[Illustration: 0157]
This building was occupied by the Musée of Paintings and Sculpture,
which was really one of the most important and extensive collections in
France of examples of the Flemish school of painting. Here I saw in
1910 a large number of beautiful original drawings, and a collection of
Flemish tapestries of incalculable value. There were nine or ten
rooms devoted to the Flemish masters, and to mention only a few of
the treasures they contained, I note here: "Hell-fire"; Breughel, Toil
Devoured by Usury; Jordaens, Twelfth Night; Van Balen, Rope of Europa;
P. A. da Cortona, Herodias; Seghers, St. Eloi and the Virgin; Neets, the
younger, Church Interior; Vinckboons, Forest; Van Aelst, Still Life;
Van Mieris, Pan and Syrinx; Al. Adriensis, Fish Merchant; Van Goyen,
Landscape; "Velvet" Breughel, Landscape; Van de Velde, Sea Piece; Van
Oost, Adoration of the Shepherds; Pourbus (younger), Marie de Medicis;
Brouwer, Tavern Scene; Wouverman, Hunters; Teniers, Interior of Grotto;
Rubens, Descent from the Cross; Guido (?), St. Peter; Metsys, Banker and
His Wife.
The fate of this remarkable collection of Flemish and Spanish paintings
is at present shrouded in mystery. It is said, and denied variously,
that they were removed to Paris before the German army arrived. I
understand from reports in the newspapers, which may or may not be
authentic, that this old Hôtel de Ville was entirely destroyed by
British shells early in the war, and that the venerable Maison du
Prévost, built during the Spanish invasion, and the old timbered and
slated houses at the corner of the Grand' Place, one of them occupied by
the "Café Modeste," have been entirely destroyed. But at present (May,
1917) Valenciennes is behind the curtain of mystery drawn over its
miseries by the Germans.
This little town played a small part in the peace of Cambrai, called the
"Ladies' peace," in honor of the Princesses who while at Valenciennes
had negotiated it there between Charles V and Francis I. "Two women,
Francis I's mother and Charles V's aunt, Louise of Savoy, and Margaret
of Austria, had the real negotiation of it; they had both of them
acquired the good sense and the moderation which come from experience of
affairs and from the difficulties in life; they did not seek to give one
another mutual surprises and to play off one another reciprocally.
They resided in two contiguous houses, between which they caused
a communication to be made from the inside, and they conducted the
negotiation with so much discretion that the petty Italian princes who
were interested in it did not know the results of it until peace was
concluded on the 5th of August, 1529.... These women, though morally
different and of very unequal social status, both had minds of a rare
order, trained to recognize political necessities and not to attempt any
but possible successes. They did not long survive their work; Margaret
of Austria died on the 1st of December, 1530, and Louise of Savoy on the
22nd of September, 1531." *
* Guizot's "France," Vol. Ill, p. 94.
This peace lasted until 1536; incessantly troubled, however, by far from
pacific symptoms, proceedings and preparations, but it was certainly
a monument to the skill of these two princesses. Charles V, on his
way through the kingdom, after passing a week at Paris, pushed on to
Valenciennes, the first town in his Flemish dominions, where he rested
in state. When his eyes rested upon all the wealth and cheerful industry
that surrounded him here, he said (according to Brantôme), "There is not
in this world any greatness such as that of a King of France."
Valenciennes, when I saw it before the outbreak of the great war
in 1914, was a rather sleepy little town given over to most prosaic
manufactures. There was little evident picturesqueness; most of the
ancient buildings had given way to stupid looking stucco covered houses.
In vain did my Lady Anne seek the lace makers; they were not to be
found--if they existed. There were no bric-a-brac or antique shops,
either, wherein one might browse, but there was a quaint and most
comfortable hotel, presided over by a garrulous landlord whose (artful)
innocence and unworldliness quite took us in, and whose bill, when
presented, proved to be fifty per cent more than we had reckoned upon.
Valenciennes should have been an economical town to live in, but it was
not so; at least in the delightful hotel, which was so well kept and
apparently so clean. The day following our arrival two charwomen started
at the top of the house with buckets of water and scrubbing brushes.
The buckets, by the way, were not the ordinary iron ones, but immense
affairs of rough earthenware of a rich buff color outside, and a most
delicious bright green enamel inside. The women scrubbed the floors from
attic to back door--except the parquet floors--ignoring the corners, for
cleanliness comes evidently very near to godliness in these semi-Flemish
towns of Northern France; they are not very thorough. Following these
bare-armed amazons came the housemaid with a great cake of beeswax,
which was fixed into a fork of wood at the end of the handle as long
and thick as a broomstick. With this beeswax she rubbed the floor most
energetically until the grain of the old oak floor came out clearly.
Then followed the polisher with a large, thick, flat brush made in the
form of a sort of sandal which was fastened to one foot by a wide strap
of leather, the brushless foot was kept stationary; the other with deft
slides backwards and forwards produced a most beautiful polish like
varnish. There were few carpets to be found anywhere, and in the summer
one did not miss them, but I should imagine that the houses would be
very damp and cold in the winter, when there is little provision made
for heating these old drafty rooms, and (if one might consider expense)
wood for the grate fires is charged for at the rate of "F. 1.25 per
basket of nine sticks." (Per published tariff.)
We were told that the proper way to study this part of the country is
to take a small house for the summer. One could furnish cheaply here, it
was urged, in the country style, no carpets, and with the furniture made
hereabouts.
My Lady Anne was quite taken with the idea.
The furniture was in good taste, stained a dark brown; it made a
charming foil for the bright yellows and pale greens of the crockery.
The bedrooms had alcoves for the beds, with a curious little door cut
out of the wooden partition wall at the back of the bed: this was for
the convenience of the housemaid, as it saved the necessity of pulling
out the bed to get behind it. These walls were almost always made of
boards, and thus the doors were easily cut, so that covered with wall
paper one scarcely ever noticed them.
My Lady Anne discovered that the clothing sent to be washed was, unless
otherwise ordered, sent home rough dried! Ironing is special. Following
the custom here there was no weekly washing day, but washing was done
once a month or even two months, and this is the reason why there were
so many of the really fine oak or chestnut armoirs to be found. Some of
these were most beautiful, made of polished wood, and had often unique
brass hinges and locks. Every household had one or more, in spite of the
fact that the dealers were on the quest for them. The peasants who
lived off the beaten track of travel willingly parted with them for
comparatively small prices. We thought it rather extraordinary to find
in a poor laborer's cottage a specimen of these fine chests fit for the
hall of a millionaire collector. There were also fine wardrobes to be
found, with handsomely carved chestnut or applewood panels polished like
glass, and with brass knobs and locks worn bright with the use of many
generations.
Occasionally one could find the old fashioned double decked bed made
of dark oak, and the long heavy Norman table, which was the household
larder, for in its long and deep drawer were generally stored the
household provisions of ham, bacon, or dried fish; never the bread,
though, for this was kept overhead upon a well polished board, in the
older houses, hung from the ceiling, well out of the way of the rats,
the torment of the peasant. In these houses the clothes were hung on
ropes high up against the sloping roofs to prevent these pests from
gnawing them. The broken necks of bottles were fastened at the ends of
these cords or ropes, and on these the rats jumped from the rafters and
went spinning over onto the floor far beneath. In all the villages there
were public washing pools, a feature of the country. No washing was done
in the cottages. Hundreds of peasant women washed the clothes, kneeling
in long lines at the sides of the streams, keeping up all the time a
chattering and laughing that could be heard from a distance.
Sometimes there were shelters overhead for their protection from sun and
rain, sometimes not. They washed the clothes on flat boards, and beat
them when lathered with a flat wooden sort of paddle. The washing was
well done too, surprising to tell, but although they say not, one would
think that the process was rather hard upon the clothes.
These quaint customs quite charmed us, and we were inclined to shut our
eyes to certain evidences of drunkenness and its accompanying sins among
the lower classes which could not be concealed, and which perhaps need
not be entered into here.
Valenciennes was a manufacturing town, and the condition of the artisan
classes was said to be even worse than that in Belgium just over the
border. The hours of labor were long--unquestionably too long--and
said to be as a rule fixed by the employer. Children of tender age were
employed in factory and warehouse, and this perhaps explains the stunted
appearance of the poor people. The law says that no child under
sixteen can be kept at work for more than twelve hours a day, but it is
understood that this law was easily evaded. The result was inevitable.
If the child could be kept at work for twelve hours a day, then it will
be understood that an adult was assumed to be able to do more.
Of course the man did not really work as hard as our own men do, and
that he did piece work, and also that a considerable portion of his time
must be deducted for shirking, for gossip and for rest. Still, at the
foundries the hours and the labor were both excessive. The thought had
not occurred to these manufacturers and proprietors that a man might
do more in sixty hours a week than he will do in seventy. The terrible
"Borinage" district of the mines of Belgium, which extends as far west
as Quevrain on the border, really runs over the line, and some of its
conditions existed at Blanc Misseron, Fresnes, and at Bruay. The name
"Borinage" signifies the place of boring. Here was to be found a state
of society that does not exist in any other part of the country, and the
miners and their wretched families were a type quite distinct from all
the rest of their countrymen. By the character of their work and by the
deficiencies or lack of education, supplemented by the poisonous effects
of the fiery and deleterious potato brandy and other decoctions which
they freely imbibe, they had sunk into a state of both physical and
mental decay.
"A visit to these places is not a pleasant experience, and the closer
the acquaintance made with the life of the mining population the less
attractive does it appear. The employment of children of tender years
lies at the root of the ignorance of the people of the province.... To
the proprietors, with rare exceptions, the miners are mere beasts of
burden, in whom they do not feel the least interest. No steps whatever
are taken to improve the lot of the miners, to elevate their ideas, or
even to provide them with amusement or recreations.... The only places
of resort are the 'Estaminets' and cabarets that are to be found in
every third or fourth house.... It is scarcely going too far to say that
morality does not exist in the Borinage; but the great curse in this
community is the large number of immature mothers, and the consequent
inseparable deterioration of the whole race.... Ignorance and immorality
explain the low condition to which the mining population has sunk, but
even these causes would not have produced such an appalling result if
they had not been supplemented by the prevalence of drunkenness. As
there is no restriction upon the sale of drink, every house may retail
intoxicating liquors, and in many places where it is procurable there is
no external appearance of the place being a drinking shop. The room of
the cottage will contain a few chairs and benches, besides a table, and
the liquor comes from a cupboard or an inner room. In warm weather the
table and chairs are placed outside, and on Sundays and feast days there
is not one of these houses which will not be crowded with visitors. The
only amusement known to these people is to drink and to get drunk....
The beer drinkers are the more reasonable drunkards of the two. Having
soaked themselves with 'faro' (a thin sour beer) they sleep it off. Not
so the spirit drinkers, for when they have finished their orgies they
are half mad with the poisonous alcohol which they have imbibed.
"The true explanation of the evils that follow this spirit drinking is
to be found in the character of the spirit itself. In name it is gin or
'genievre,' but it bears little or no trace of that origin. What it
is, no one outside the place of manufacture--which appears to be
unknown--can correctly declare, but by the smell it would seem to be
mainly composed of paraffin oil. This beverage is called 'Schnick' and
is the favorite spirit of the miners. It is sold for ten centimes (1
penny) for a large wine glass, and five centimes (1/2 penny) for a
small, and official statistics show that a large majority of the
miners drink a pint of this stuff every day of their lives, while it
is computed that there are no fewer than fifty thousand who drink a
quart.... Lest the reader should imagine that there is some exaggeration
in the figures just given, it may be mentioned that the total
consumption of spirits per head of the population (of Belgium) exceeds
fifty quarts." *
* "Belgian Life in Town and Country." Demetrius C. Boulger, p. 76.
This is, of course, written of Belgium, but as this mining country
extends beyond the border into France, as I have said, these conditions
exist in the neighboring villages to the north and east of Valenciennes.
It is a relief to turn from this terrible picture to the vistas
southwards, but it is only just to add that the Belgian Government was
doing its best to cleanse this region when the war broke out and put a
stop to the work.
How could the people who dwell in this terrible spot be other than
debased? Conditions were all against them. World welfare demands the
product of the mines; so workers are automatically produced to supply
it, and thus across this fair land stretches this great black belt,
like a vast unhealed wound, that extends from the western boundaries of
Picardy, far beyond the German Westphalian province, and digs deep into
the bowels of the earth, its presence being detected from afar by the
heavy clouds of pungent, evil smelling black and brown smoke of the
furnaces, as one approaches, and by the great heaps of clay and ashes
along the railway lines.
This is the territory coveted by the "war lord." This is the road to the
Channel, and over this strip by day and by night fall the shells of the
invaders and defenders alike.
Gone now are the peaceful farmsteads; the quaint old villages clustered
about the gray towers of the churches and monasteries, and the many
towered, white walled châteaux in the vine clad gardens. The quiet towns
and villages which we explored in those memorable summer days of 1910
are swept from the face of the earth, and there are now long level wide
roads stretching towards and into the horizon, upon which the whole day
and night, two mighty lines of silent armed men linking together heavy
wagons and immense shapeless masses of heavy guns and tractors, to and
from the fighting lines, form endless processions.
The God of Efficiency in destruction now reigns where once peaceful
thrift was enthroned.