THE FÊTES AT ROUEN
IT was growing dark when our little party scrambled over the decks of
several barges, and finally found themselves walking up the quay.
The lights were beginning to twinkle in all directions, and in a few
minutes the river and city were ablaze. It seemed like fairyland to the
children. The bridges were outlined with golden globes and festoons of
tiny lamps of red, white, and blue. Wreaths of lights, in the shape of
flowers of all colours, made innumerable arches of light across the
streets. Everywhere were flags grouped about shields on which were the
letters R. F., which stand for the words "Republic of France."
Walking in any direction was not easy. A mass of people swaying hither
and thither blocked streets, bridges, and quays. Our little Les Andelys
party did not attempt to stem the torrent. "We will just drift along,"
said Uncle Daboll, "and see what we can, and you children hold each
other's hands and keep closely to us."
It was a motley and most good-natured crowd. Ladies in Parisian gowns
mingled with country women in their fanciful white caps, kerchiefs, and
short skirts. There were Breton fisherfolk and dark-skinned people from
the far south; sailors and soldiers in their gay red and blue uniforms,
and every now and then one would hear a clear English voice.
Vendors of toys for the little ones, and souvenirs for everybody,
stood on every corner and did a flourishing trade, and high above
the heads of every one floated masses of the small red, white, and
blue balloons, held captive on a long string, without which no French
fête is complete. On the sidewalk in front of the cafés, people were
sitting at small tables sipping their coffee and the numberless sweet
drinks of which the French are so fond, while at each café a band
was playing for the amusement of its guests, but was also enjoyed
by the passing throngs. It took the combined efforts of many natty
policemen--"_gendarmes_," they are called--to keep an open pathway
through the crowd.
A _gendarme_ looks more like a soldier than a policeman, in his dark
blue uniform and soldier-cap, a short sword by his side, and a cape
over his shoulders, all of which gives him quite a military air.
Presently, at a corner, they were stopped by an even denser throng who
were watching a gaily dressed crowd of people entering a brilliantly
decorated and illuminated building.
"What is this?" asked Uncle Daboll of a man near him.
"It is the grand costume ball at the theatre, where every one is
expected to dress in old Norman costume," was the answer.
"Oh," said Germaine, "that is why the ladies are wearing those funny
tall head-dresses; look, Marie, there is one quite near us."
The costume was both pretty and odd. The lady had on a white head-dress
made of embroidered muslin, very like a sunbonnet in shape, with a high
crown, around which was tied a big bow of ribbon. A bright-coloured
kerchief was about her neck, and she wore a square-necked cloth bodice
neatly laced in front, with sleeves to the elbow; underneath this was a
white _chemisette_, as it is called. Around the neck and sleeves of the
bodice were bands of velvet. A very short skirt, gathered as full as
possible about the waist, a dainty little apron of coloured silk with
lace insertion, wooden _sabots_, prettily carved, and lace mitts on
her hands, completed her unusual costume.
The gentleman with her was also in Norman dress. He had big baggy
trousers, a high velvet waistcoat embroidered in bright colours, a
short round jacket with gold buttons, a high white collar with a big
red silk handkerchief tied in a bow around the neck, enormous _sabots_,
and all topped off with a high silk hat, with a straight brim.
While the children were busy looking at the details of the costumes,
a carriage halted so near Germaine that she could have put out her
hand and touched its occupant, who was a young girl about her own age.
Germaine was at once attracted to her. She had a sweet pretty face,
bright rosy cheeks, and soft blue eyes; her waving, brown hair fell
loosely about her shoulders, and across her white dress was draped a
small silk flag which Germaine recognized as the British flag, known
as the "_Union Jack_." She wore a wreath of red roses and carried in
her hand a bunch of the same flowers in which were stuck two small
silk flags--one French and the other British. Beside her sat a portly
gentleman in a gorgeous robe of black and red trimmed with fur, while
around his neck was a massive golden chain.
As Germaine was watching her, the little girl leaned eagerly out of
the carriage window, and in so doing dropped her bouquet at Germaine's
feet. "Oh, papa, I have lost my flowers," she cried. Meanwhile Germaine
quickly picked them up, and handed them back to her; and not a moment
too soon, for the carriage was moving on again and the bouquet would
have been crushed under its wheels.
"Thank you so much," cried the little girl, looking back and waving
her hand. Germaine did not understand the words, but knew she had been
thanked in English.
Germaine had been so taken up with this little incident that she had
not noticed that the crowd had separated her from her companions. Her
heart gave a bound, and with a startled cry she realized that only
strange faces were about her, and she stood motionless with fright. Her
terror was fortunately short-lived, for through the crowd she saw Uncle
Daboll making his way toward her, and rushing up to him thankfully
clasped his hand, which he made her promise not to loose again until
they were safe back on the barge.
It was not until later, when they were sitting on the deck of the barge
watching the fireworks on the heights around the city leave fiery
streaks and showers of shining stars on the blackness of the summer
sky, that Germaine had the opportunity of telling the family of her
adventure with the "little girl of the roses," as she called her.
Aunt Daboll thought that probably she belonged to one of the parties
of English visitors who had come to Rouen to take part in the Fêtes.
Very early the following morning they finished their coffee and rolls
and began their round of sightseeing, all of which had to be crowded
into the morning, as the afternoon was to be given over to the Water
Tournament, to which the children were looking forward with great
excitement.
Jean, especially, had been impressed with the posters which showed in
brilliant colours men in unfamiliar dress, tumbling into the water and
being fished out again, with, apparently, great unconcern as to the
consequences.
"Well, what shall we see first?" asked Uncle Daboll.
"Oh, the big clock," said Jean, "and then let's climb the iron spire of
the cathedral."
Germaine wanted to see where poor Jeanne d'Arc had been put to death;
the others were ready for anything.
"Everywhere one sees the name of Jeanne d'Arc," said Marie. "This
street is named after her, and last night we were in the Boulevard
Jeanne d'Arc."
"And just at the top of this same street," said Uncle Daboll, "we shall
see the Tower of Jeanne d'Arc, where the poor girl was imprisoned
during her mock trial in the great castle, of which only this one tower
is left standing."
They soon turned into a narrow street, and there was the great clock,
built in a tower, under which runs the roadway itself.
Another turning brought them to the Palais de Justice, with its big
dormer windows elaborately carved in stone.
A few steps more, and they were in the old market-place, and little
Germaine with bated breath looked at the stone let into the pavement
at her feet, which marks the spot where poor Jeanne bravely met her
terrible death by fire. All about the place the market people were
peddling their wares, bargaining and calling out the merits of their
various vegetables and fruits and poultry, the scene not unlike what it
may have been in those olden days when the Normans ruled.
Our party could not, however, linger very long over memories of the
"Maid," for Uncle Daboll hurried them away to see the great church of
St. Ouen, with such large windows that it seems to have walls of glass,
and its curious Portal of the Marmosets, all over which are carved
little animals which look like ferrets. They passed the little church
of St. Maclou, set like a gem in a tangle of streets that were little
more than alleys. As Jean said, the tall, old houses seemed to be
leaning over toward one another as if they were trying to knock their
heads together.
At one street corner there had been erected a triumphal arch which was
surmounted by a facsimile of the statue of William the Conqueror, the
original of which stands in the little Norman town of Falaise, where he
was born.
All French children know the history of this great Norman, who was an
unknown boy in an obscure little village, but who in time sailed across
what is now known as the English Channel, conquered England, and made
himself King of England as well as Duke of Normandy.
When they came to the cathedral, our party were glad to enter and rest
awhile within the cool, lofty aisles and say a short prayer.
Marie remembered her favourite St. Antoine and dropped two sous in the
box at the foot of his statue, for the poor.
While Uncle Daboll and Jean climbed up the iron spire, the rest of the
party were taken by the "_suisse_" to see the chapels with their tombs
and tapestries.
The _suisse_ is an imposing person in gorgeous dress of black velvet
and gold lace, a big three-cornered hat covered with gold braid,
white silk stockings, shoes with big buckles, and he carries a tall
gold-headed stock.
It is his duty to guard the church and, for a small fee, to show
visitors the chapels and other parts of the church not generally open.
Marie and Germaine felt quite in awe of him at first. They had never
seen anything so magnificent before, but seeing their great interest in
all that he pointed out to them, he unbent, and when he showed Germaine
the spot where was buried the heart of King Richard, and she told
him that she lived near the great castle the king had built, at Les
Andelys, he smiled in a most friendly way, and patted her on the head.
It was quite a change when, after Uncle Daboll and Jean joined them,
they went out from the dark church into the square blazing with
sunlight, and full of booths with all sorts of things to sell, toys,
souvenirs, and picture post-cards galore.
Jean was full of his experiences in the tower: how they went up a
little winding stairway to the very top, and they could see for miles
around the city, and how the people looked like tiny black dots far
below; and how, when coming down, he got a bit dizzy, and his father
made him shut his eyes and sit still for a minute or two; but that was
doing better than a grown man who was just behind them, and who had to
go back just after they had started.
When Jean had finished telling his experiences, everybody found out
that they were very hungry. Uncle Daboll laughed, and said he had never
known them to be so much of one mind before.
"Well, follow me, little ones, and we shall find something," he said,
and led the way down the street, gay with flags, wreaths, and flowers.
"Just one moment, uncle," cried Marie, "let us stop and buy some
post-cards to send home."
"It will be better," said Uncle Daboll, "to get them after dinner, and
while we are having our coffee at a café we can write them and send
them off. If we stop now, we shall be late for dinner, for it is past
noon."
"Here is our place for dinner," he continued, as they entered a small
square surrounded by old-time houses near the river. On one side was a
modest little hotel called the "Three Merchants." Going up an outside
stairway, they entered a small room with a low ceiling and a stone
floor, with a long table down the centre.
It was a typical place for the farmers to come for their dinners when
they brought their produce into the markets. Some of these farmers
were now sitting at the table with blue or black blouses over their
broadcloth suits, with their wives in black dresses and white caps, all
talking and gesticulating away over their dinner.
There were two pleasant-faced curés in their long, tight black gowns
closely buttoned up the front, the brims of their flat black hats
caught up on either side with a cord, who had evidently come in from
some country parish to see the fêtes. There was also a solitary
bicyclist whose costume betrayed the fact that he was a Frenchman, for
no other bicyclists in the world get themselves up in so juvenile a
manner as do the French. A loose black alpaca coat, a broad waistband
in which was sewed his purse, baggy knickerbockers of gray plaid, and
socks with low shoes, leaving the leg bare to the knee, completed his
marvellous costume.
You would think this a little boy's dress in America, would you not?
These were the guests to whom our party nodded, which is a polite and
universal French custom when entering and leaving a room where others
are, even though they may be unknown to you.
After a bountiful middle-class dinner, our party passed out into the
crowded streets again, when the energetic Jean exclaimed: "Now for our
post-cards!"
"Now for a place to rest a little while," cried uncle and aunt in the
same breath.
"Here is a pleasant, cool-looking little café across the street; the
one with the green shrubs in boxes before it. We will have our coffee
there while you select your post-cards. You will find them in that
corner shop."
In a few minutes the children were back with the cards. Jean had
selected a view of the cathedral, because he wanted to show his uncle
and aunt the great spire up which he had climbed; Marie sent several
showing the decorations in the streets to various of her school
friends, and Germaine did not forget her friend, M. Auguste, after
sending one each to her father and mother.
Before two o'clock everybody was hurrying toward the river to see the
water sports.
"Oh, aunty," cried Germaine, pulling her aunt by the sleeve, "look,
there is my 'little girl of the roses,' see, walking this way with
those ladies and gentlemen!"
Germaine was quite trembling with excitement as she saw the little girl
recognized her, and came quickly toward them.
"Oh, I am so glad to see you," she cried. "I have wanted to see you
again to thank you. Oh, but isn't it stupid of me?" she went on, with a
sign of vexation. "Of course you don't know English, and I can't speak
French, except to say _merci_ and _bon jour_ and _bon soir_, so how
can we talk to each other?" Then she stopped and laughed, and Germaine
laughed, too, and the two little girls stood smiling at one another,
when the portly gentleman, whom Germaine had seen in the carriage,
hurried up. "Ethel, my dear, why did you run off like this?"
"Oh, papa, this is the little girl who handed me back my roses, when
they fell from the carriage last night. You know my special programme
was tied with the flowers, and I would not have lost it for anything."
Just then some French people came up who also spoke English, and the
little girl explained the situation. Germaine then learned that Ethel
was the daughter of the mayor of the English town of Hastings, and
he had been invited to represent England at the fêtes, for it was at
Hastings that William the Conqueror had landed, and near there that
the great battle of Hastings was fought, which gave England to the
Normans.
That was so very long ago that everybody in England is now very proud
of it, and the English cousins from Hastings were taking as much
interest in the fêtes as the French themselves.
Germaine blushed while the gentleman was telling her all this, and
Ethel took a little English flag that she had pinned on her dress and
gave it to Germaine. When Ethel's papa heard where Germaine lived, he
said he had been to Les Andelys, he had stayed at the Belle Étoile, and
knew M. Auguste, and perhaps next year he would come there again and
bring Ethel and her mother, and then they should all meet again.
After the French gentleman kindly made all this known to Germaine, the
little girls shook hands and parted, for the Tournament had begun.
Two queer-looking craft, much like gondolas, took up their positions,
one at either end of the course. The crew of one had a white costume
with red sashes and red caps--the other was in similar dress, except
that their caps and sashes were blue. These respective crews were known
as the "Blues" and the "Reds."
On a raised platform at the end of his boat stood a "Red," with a long
lance at rest; opposite was a "Blue" in the same position. At a given
signal, the boats came toward one another, and one lance-man attempted
to push the other off into the water.
Great was the excitement among their partisans on the banks, and cries
of encouragement came from friends on either side. Jean had picked out
the "Blue" as his choice, while Marie and Germaine hoped the "Red"
would win. By this time the children were standing on their chairs,
Jean waving his cap with great enthusiasm. Suddenly "Red" gave a
stronger push, and down went poor "Blue," head foremost in the water.
However, he did not seem to mind it, as he sat dripping in the rescue
boat. Jean felt rather badly over the fall of his hero, but another man
took his place, and this time Jean's man won, to his intense delight.
So the fun went on until late in the afternoon. Another evening's walk
through the illuminated city, and the children were quite ready for
their beds on the barge,--for the men of the party slept on deck while
the rest had the little house to themselves.