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Matilda Betham-Edwards - East of Paris
But by far the most interesting acquaintance at this most historic little town was the great-nephew of
Danton. Middle-aged, unpretentious of aspect, yet with that unmistakable look partly of dignified
self-possession, partly of authority, seldom absent from the French official, I looked in vain for any
likeness to the portraits of his great kinsman. Yet perhaps in the stalwart figure, manly proportions and
bronzed complexion, might be traced some suggestion of the athlete, the strong swimmer, the bold
sportsman, whose mighty voice once made Europe tremble. The brother of this gentleman also lived at
Arcis-sur-Aube, but was absent during my visit. The juge de paix and his family were on
friendliest terms with my hostess, and he would often drop in for a chat.
From him and other residents I gathered some interesting particulars about the Danton family. The great
tribune left two little sons, George and Antoine, who grew up and resided in their ancestral home, hiding
themselves from the world. Their young step-mother it was whose memory, when on the way to the
guillotine, evoked from Danton the only betrayal of personal emotion throughout his stormy career:
"Must I leave thee for ever, my beloved," then, quickly recovering himself, cried "Danton, no weakness!"
Madame Danton married again and is lost sight of. One of Danton's sisters entered a convent, as it was
supposed hoping to expiate by a life given up to prayer the crimes, as she deemed them, of her brother.
Meantime, appalled by the shadow of their father's memory, George and Antoine decided to remain
celibate, a pair marked out for solitude and obloquy.
"Let the name of Danton perish from the recollection of man," they said.
The elder, however, afterwards acknowledged and, I believe, legitimised a daughter according to the
merciful French law. Mademoiselle Danton became Madame Menuel, and, strange as it may seem, at the
time of my visit, this direct descendant of Danton was still living. President Carnot had given her a small
pension in the form of a bureau de tabac at Troyes, where she died in 1896, leaving a son, who
some years ago was divorced from his wife, emigrated to Buenos Ayres, and has never been heard of
since. It is supposed that he is dead. The two great-nephews have each a son and a daughter living.
The juge de paix and his brother are now among the most respected citizens of Arcis, and have
lived to witness the rehabilitation of their great ancestor. Neither of the pair inhabit the house in which
Danton was born, and to which he ever returned with joy and satisfaction.
A sight of Danton's house is sufficient to disprove the calumnies of that noble woman, but inveterate
hater, Madame Roland.
From her memoirs we might gather that Danton was a poverty-stricken, pettifogging lawyer of the basest
class. That Danton's family belong to the well-to-do upper middle ranks, we see from the object lesson
before us. At the time of my visit, this large, roomy, well-built house, with coach-house, stables and
half-a-dozen acres of garden, orchard and wood, was to let for 700 francs a year. But so low a rent
now-a-days is no indication of its value a hundred years ago.
The owner of the house most kindly showed me over every part.
It is two-storeyed, plainly but solidly constructed, and evidently arranged, according to French fashion,
for a combined tenancy. Two or three families could here well be accommodated under the same roof,
each having separate establishments. I found myself in a covered carriageway, cool dark corridors
leading to outhouses and stables, a wide staircase with handsome oak balustrade to upstair kitchen and
bed-chambers, on either side of the ground floor were spacious salon and dining room, fronting town and
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