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Matilda Betham-Edwards - East of Paris
"Napoleon Empereur," on the obverse "Republique Francais"? - but when Louis XVIII was brought back
by his foreign friends, how was it that there came no general smashing, a great flinging of revolutionary
potsherds to the dunghill? Safe enough now is the Nivernais collection, under the roof of the Ducal
Palace, the rude designs and commonness of the ware strikingly contrasted with the exquisite things
around.
In close proximity to these cheap plates, dedicated to the Phrygian cap and sans-culottism, are the very
choicest specimens of Nevers faience of priceless value. Why the municipality, as a rule so generous
towards the public, should thus inconveniently house its treasure, is inconceivable.
The museum is reached by a long spiral staircase, without banister or support, and a false step must
certainly result in a broken leg, or, perhaps, neck! The room also contains a striking portrait of Theodore
de Beze, the great French reformer, who, then an aged man, penned a letter, sublime in its force and
simplicity, to Henry IV., conjuring him not to abandon the Protestant faith. The mention of this fact
recalls an interesting experience. I here allude to the incontestable advance of Protestantism in France.
The traveller whose acquaintance with the country began a quarter of a century ago, cannot fail to be
impressed with this fact. Alike in towns large and small, new places of worship have sprung up, Nevers
now possessing an Evangelical church. And good was it to hear the appreciation of the little Protestant
community from my Catholic landlady.
"Yes," she said, "the Protestants here are worthy of all respect ( dignes gens) and the pastor also;
I esteem him much." Evidently the Lemaitre-Coppee-Deroulede dictum, "Only the Catholic can be called
a Frenchman," is not accepted at Nevers.
In dazzlingly brilliant weather, and amid glowing scenery, we continued our journey to Moulins, as we
travelled by rail, and not by road unable to identify "the little opening in the road leading to a thicket"
where Sterne discovered Maria. Has anyone ever identified the spot I wonder, poplar, small brook and
the rest?
Too soon were we also for "the heyday of the vintage, when Nature is pouring her abundance into
everyone's lap." For the vintage, indeed, one must go farther. Sterne must have been thinking of
Burgundy when he penned that line, or the phylloxera has brought about a transformation, vineyards here
being changed into pastures. The scenery of the Allier, like that around Autun, recalls many parts of
England. Meadows set around with hedges; little rises of green hill here and there; cattle browsing by
quiet streams; just such pictures as we may see in our own Midlands. I well remember a remark of the
late Philip Gilbert Hamerton on this subject. We were strolling near his home, in the neighbourhood of
Autun, one day, when he pointed to the landscape over against us.
"How like that is to many an English scene," he said; "and maybe it was the English aspect of this region
that tempted me to settle here." I had paid Moulins a hasty visit many years before, but, unlike Nevers
and so many French towns, the chef-lieu of the Allier does not improve upon further
acquaintance. And I surmise, that such is the impression of my country people generally. English
travellers must be few and far between at Moulins, or why should the appearance of two English ladies
attract so much curiosity? Wherever we went, the good folks of Moulins, alike rich and poor, turned
round to have a good look at us, even stopping short to stare. All this was done without any rudeness or
remark, but such extraordinary behaviour can only be accounted for by the foregoing supposition. For
some reason or other our compatriots do not, like Sterne and Maria go to Moulins.
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