But in a society which comprised men of so many different types and varying calibre, there were not wanting some of the survivals of a France which was rapidly becoming extinct An inhabitant of Verdun frequently referred to by Stanhope was the Chevalier de la Lance, an aristocrat of the ancien régime, who piqued himself upon possessing the peculiar grace of manner belonging to a bygone day, and which he carried to such a point of exaggeration as often to render himself ridiculous. "He is nevertheless a kind-hearted, gentlemanlike and amiable old man. Like most others of his rank who are still alive, he emigrated at the beginning of the Revolution. He retired to Germany, where he lived for some time under the assumed character of a humble music-master. He tells me that one of his most pleasant experiences was the surprise of his various pupils when, upon leaving the place of exile, he sent them back all the tickets for lessons which they had given him, and for which he no longer required payment He did not, however, return to France alone; in the country-house of some of his pupils he had met a lady whose heart was touched by the misfortunes of the exile. She was related to one of the leading families of the Austrian Empire, but had learnt to feel compassion for the unfortunate emigrant, and as compassion is akin to love, it soon grew into a warmer sentiment, and she at length agreed to unite her destiny to his."
On an occasion, destined to be momentous in the life of another friend of Stanhope, did the Chevalier have an opportunity of displaying his exquisite manners to the full. One day young Stanhope was walking through the streets of Verdun with a friend of his, Captain Strachey, [9] when they met a young Frenchman of their acquaintance, "one, indeed," he remarks, "of the few ancienne noblesse of Verdun."
'Ah, Monsieur Stanhope,' said the Frenchman, 'you must go to the
Cathedral, my cousin is the Quêteuse [10] to-day; you must give her a
Napoleon at least!' Strachey announced that he would like to go with me,
and together accordingly we went.
"At the appointed time the Quêteuse made her appearance. She proved to be a most lovely girl, dressed in black silk, with a garland of snow-white marguerites on her head. As a mark of particular attention from the ecclesiastical authorities, she was permitted the escort of the Chevalier de la Lance, who, thoroughly enjoying the situation, held the tips of her fingers and conducted her with all the airs and graces of the olden time through the crowd assembled in the church. At length, preceded by the beadle in full costume, she approached the place where we were standing. The graceful simplicity of her manners formed an admirable contrast to the affectation of the old chevalier. With a low courtsey, and with a smile which united the sweetest expression to the most perfect modesty, she presented her purse to each of us in our turn. I was no longer at the happy age when the heart is carried away by every sweet glance; but I own that, for the moment, I was bewildered by the beautiful sight which the young girl presented, as, engaged in so holy a cause, and with her extraordinary loveliness framed by the picturesque surrounding of Gothic arches, she might well have been mistaken for the vision of an angel. All the money in my pocket was at once transferred to the little silk purse of the fair petitioner; but to Captain Strachey's peace that smile was far more fatal. It was decisive of the destiny of his life. A copy of French verses which he penned to the beautiful Quêteuse was the first proof of the impression produced upon his heart. Many were the obstacles with which he had to contend; but at length the lovely Mlle, de la Roche became the bride of the English prisoner."
There was, however, but little intercourse between the English and the French families at Verdun. "There is one set," Stanhope writes, "who keep themselves very select and consider themselves par excellence the society of the town. Almost the only English admitted into their circle are the Marine officers. It is said that they obtained this preference by persuading the French that they are distinguished by the title of Royal Marines entirely because they rank highest in the British service!"
Only a certain Mr and Mrs S. who belonged to the class of détenus were allowed, on sufferance, occasionally to mingle with the French families; and in this connection Stanhope relates one more story.
"My fair countrywoman, who is sharing the captivity of her husband, formerly an officer in the army, is singularly attractive. If her features were not too pronounced and her form much too thin, she would be a very pretty woman. As it is, there is something remarkably airy and graceful in her figure, and very lively in her countenance. Still more lively is she in her manners. She is, indeed, one of the cleverest and most sarcastic women I ever knew, very agreeable when you are not yourself the object of her satire. In order to preserve her character for wit, she is not very scrupulous in her language; and in consequence of this an Englishman once ventured to make her an insulting proposal, upon which she very quietly caught up the poker and knocked him down, thus establishing her reputation in such a forcible manner that, whatever she has subsequently been bold enough to say, she is quite certain of being considered a perfect Diana.
"An adventure occurred to her which would be amusing if I could tell it in her own language. On one of the coldest nights of a severe winter she left her apartments to go to one of our Verdun balls. Her husband pleaded a severe headache as an excuse for not accompanying her; and, that her amusement might not be disturbed by any disagreeable suspicions, he actually retired to bed and enacted the part of a sick man so well that he eluded even her penetrating glance. No sooner, however, had the carriage driven off which conveyed her to the ball, than up jumped the sick man, dressed himself and set off to the club in order to indulge his darling passion for play. At an hour rather earlier than he had calculated upon, his wife left the ball, doubtless anxious to look after her invalid husband. She was driven home by a friend, and in order to inconvenience the latter as little as possible, she got out of the carriage without waiting for the house-door to be opened, and allowed her friend to drive away. It was a piercingly cold night, the ground was covered with snow, and she picked her way carefully up the steps and then felt in her pocket for her passe-partout. To her horror she discovered it was not there, she had forgotten to take it out with her! She used all her efforts to rouse her sleeping husband or some of the inmates, but in vain. No resource remained but for her to walk, quarterdeck, in her satin shoes and ball dress, the bodice of which, to make matters worse, was generally very décolleté.
"While engaged in this truly miserable occupation, who should come up but her husband, returning from his club! Had he had the key in his pocket much might have been forgiven him, but he, too, had forgotten it. He was obliged, therefore, to join his wife's promenade before the door of their lodgings, and submit to a snowy curtain-lecture, till dawn broke, and the miserable, shivering couple were at last able to make themselves heard by the inmates of the house."
Many years afterwards John Stanhope related a yet more extraordinary meeting which occurred to this same couple.