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Matilda Betham-Edwards - East of Paris
I will now say something of our neighbours. One of these was the parish priest, who had the care of
between six and seven hundred souls. The fact may be new to some readers that a village cure, even in
these days, receives on an average little more than Goldsmith's country parson, "counted rich on forty
pounds a year." This cure's stipend, including perquisites amounted to just sixty pounds yearly, in
addition to which he had a good house, large garden and paddock. But compare such a position with that
of one of our own rectors and vicars!
The Protestant clergy in France are better paid than those belonging to the orthodox faith. Being heads of
families, they are supposed, and justly, to need more. Let it not be imagined, however, that the priest
receives less under the Republic than under the Empire. But the cost of living has increased.
Of course there are black sheep in the Romish fold as elsewhere; perhaps even the simplicity, learning
and devotion to duty of the individual I here write of, are rare. Yet one cannot help feeling how much
more money the Government would have at command with which to remunerate good workers in pacific
fields if disarmament were practicable. This excellent priest, like other men of education and taste, would
have relished a little travel as much as do our own vicars and curates their annual outing to Norway or
Switzerland. What remains for recreation and charity after defraying household expenses and cost of a
housekeeper out of sixty pounds a year?
Next, let me say a word about the juge de paix in France, as I presume most readers are aware, a
modest functionary, yet better paid than that of a priest. The average stipend of a justice of the peace is
about a hundred pounds a year, with lodging, but although his duties often take him far afield he is not
provided with a vehicle, and must either cycle or defray the cost of carriage hire. I know many of these
rural magistrates, and have ever found them men of education and intelligence. I, now, for the first time,
found one well read in English literature, not only able to discuss Shakespeare and Walter Scott, but the
latest English novel appearing in translation as a feuilleton. It is well that these small officials should
have such resources. Tied down as they are to remote country spots, their existence is often monotonous
enough, especially during the winter months.
It seems to be a canon of French faith that you cannot have too much of a good thing, anyhow in the
matter of wedding festivities. Parisian society is beginning to adopt English saving of time and money,
fashionable marriages there now being followed by a brief lunch and reception. Country-folks stick to
tradition, preferring to make the most of an event which as a rule happens only once during a lifetime.
Gratifying as was the experience to an English guest, especially that guest being a devoted admirer of
France, I must honestly confess that my share in such a celebration constituted probably the hardest day's
work I ever performed. Here I will explain that the bride's father was head forester of my host and
hostess, the great folks of the place, and adored by their humbler neighbours. Chateau and cottage were
thus closely, nay affectionately, interested in the important event I am about to describe, and this aspect
of it is fully as noteworthy as the truly Gallic character of the long drawn out fete itself.
By nine a.m. horses and carriages of the chateau, adorned with wedding favours, were flying madly
about in all directions conveying the wedding party to and from the Mairie for the civil ceremony. An
hour later we were ourselves off to the village church, the house party including three English guests.
The enormously long religious ceremony over, a procession was formed headed by musicians, bride and
bridegroom leading the way, fifty and odd couples following and the round of the village was made. At
the door of the festive house we formed a circle, the newly-wedded pair embracing everyone and
receiving congratulations; this is a somewhat lachrymose ceremony. The marriage was in every way
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