Punch (101.1891)

September 12, 1891.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 121

SOME CIRCULAR NOTES.

Chapter IY.

Reims—Solemnity—Relief—En voiture—Politeness— Calling— Calves
— Caves—Starting— CocJiei—Duet.
Seen the Cathedral. Grand. As I am not making notes for a
Guide-book, shall say nothing- about it. "Don't mention it." I
shan't. Much struck by the calm air of repose about Reims. So
silent is it, that Daebixet's irrepressible singing in the solemn court-
yard of the Hotel comes quite as a relief. It is an evidence of life.
This Hotel's exceptional quietude suggests the idea of its being con-
ducted like a prison on the silent system, with, of course, dumb-
waiters to assist in the peculiarly clean and tidy salle a, manger.

"Petzikoff! Blass the Prince of Waiees ! " sings out Daebixet,
whose Mark- Tapley-\\k.Q spirits would probably be only exhilarated
by a lonely night in the Catacombs. Then he shakes hands with me
violently. In France he insists upon shaking hands on every
possible occasion with anybody, in order to convey to his own
countrymen the idea of what a thorough Briton he is.

" Vous avez eu votre cafe? Eh bien alors—allons! pour passer
chez nion ami Yesqeier," says Daerixet, at the same time signal-
ling a meandering fly - driver who, having pulled up near the
Cathedral, is sitting lazily on his box perusing a newspaper. He
looks up, catches sight of Daebixet, nods, folds up the paper, sits
on it, gives the reins one shake to wake up the horse, and another, with
a crack of his whip, to set the sleepy animal in motion, and, the animal
being partially roused, he drives across the street to us. Daebixet
directs him, and on we go, lumbering and rattling through the town,
meeting only one other voiture .whose driver appears infinitely amused
at his friend having obtained a fare. Some chaff passes'between
them, which to me is unintelligible, and which Daebixet professes
not to catch, but I fancy, whatever it is, it is not highly compli-
mentary to our cocker's fares. In one quarter through which we
drive, they are setting up the booths and roundabouts for a Fair.
" They can't do much business here," I observe to my companion.
" Immense ! " he replies.—" But there's no one about."
" There will be," he returns. " Manufacturing town—everybody
engaged in business.
Bell rings—Caramba !
—out they come, like
the cigarette-makers
in Carmen." Here he
hums a short musical
extract from Bizet's
Opera, then resumes—
" Town's all alive —
then, after dinner,
back to business —•
evening time out to
play, to cafes, to the
Fair! God save the
Queen ! "

" But there's no-
thing doing at night, as we saw
we arrived yesterday," I observe.

" No," says Daebixet ; " it is an early
place." Then he sings. If you 're wa-
king"—he pronounces it " whacking "—
" call me early, mothair dear ! " finishing //» /J-
up with a gay laugh, and a guttural (j^
ejaculation in Russian ; at least, I fancy-
it is Russian. "Ah! voild."' We have pulled up before a very
clean-looking and handsome facade. The carriage-gates are closed,
but a side-door is immediately opened, and a neat elderly woman
answers Daebixet's inquiries to his perfect satisfaction. '' Yesqi'ier
est chez lui. Entrez done!" We enter, profoundly saluting the
porteress. When abroad, an Englishman should never omit the
smallest chance of taking off his hat and bowing profoundly, no
matter to whom it may be. Every Englishman abroad represents
" AU England "—not the eleven, but the English character generally,
and therefore, when among people noted for their politeness, he
should be absolutely remarkable for his courteous manners. As a
rule, to which there can be no exception taken, never lose any
opportunity of lifting your hat, and making your most polished bow.
This, in default of linguistic facility, is universally understood and
appreciated in all civilised countries. In uncivilised countries, to
remove your hat, or to bow, may be taken as a gross outrage on
good manners, or as signifying some horrible immorality, in which
case the offender would not have the chance of repeating Ins well-
intentioned mistake. But within the limits of Western enlighten-
ment to bow is mere civility, and may be taken as a preface to con-
versation ; to omit it is to show lack of breeding and to court hostility.
Therefore, N.B. Rule in travelling—Bow to everybody. And this,
by the way, is, after all, only Sir Pertinax 3Iacsycophanf s receipt
for getting on in the world by " boo'ing and boo'ing."

We pass through a courtyard, reminding me of the kind of Gqurt-

yard still to be seen in some of our old London City houses-of-
business. _ This, however, is modernised with whitewash. Here
also, it being a Continental court-yard, are the inevitable orange-
trees in huge green tubs placed at the four corners. A few pigeons
feeding, a blinking cat curled up on a mat, pretending to take no
sort of interest in the birds, and a little child playing with a cart.
Such is this picture. Externally, not much like a house of business;
but it is, and of big business too. We enter a cool and tastefully
furnished apartment. Here M. Yesqeier receives us cordially. He
has a military bearing, suggesting the idea of a Colonel en retraite.
I am preparing compliments and interrogatories in French, when
he says, in good plain English, with scarcely an accent—

'' Now Daebixet has brought you here, we must show you the
ealves, and then back to breakfast. Will that suit you ? "

"Perfectly." I think to myself—why " calves " ? It sounded
like " calves," only without the " S." Must ask presently.

M. Yesqeier begs to be excused for a minute; he will return
directly. I look to Daebixet for an explanation. " We are, then,
going to see a farm, I presume ? " I say to him. " Farm ! " exclaims
Daebixet, surprised. " Que voulez-vous dire, mon cher ? "—" Well,
didn't Mister—Mister-" " Yesqeier," suggests Daerixet.

" Yes, Mister Yesquier—didn't he say we were to go and "see the
calves?—C'estd dire," I translate, in despair at Daebixet's utterly
puzzled look, " que nous irons avec lui d la ferme pour voir les veaux
—the calves."—Ha! ha! ha!" Off goes Daebixet into a roar.
Evidently I've made some extraordinary mistake. It flashes across
me suddenly. Owing to M. Yesqeier's speaking such excellent
English, it never occurred to me that he had suddenly interpolated
the French word " caves" as an anglicised French word into his
speech to me. This accounts for his suppression of the final consonant.

" Ah ! " I exclaim, suddenly enlightened ; "I see—the cellars."

" Pou ni my ?" cries Daebixet, still in ecstasies, and speaking
Russian or modern Greek. " Da !—of course—e'est ca—nous allons
voir les caves—the cellars—where all the champagne is. Karrascho ! "

At this moment M. Vesqeter returns. He will just take us
through the offices to his private rooms. Clerks at work everywhere.
Uncommonly like an English place of business : not much outward
difference between French clerks in a large house like this and
English ones in one of our great City houses; only this isn't the
City, but is, so to speak, more Manchesterian or Liverpoolian, with
the immense advantage of being remarkably clean, curiously quiet,
and in a pure and fresh atmosphere. I don't clearly understand
what M. Vesqeier's business is, but as he seems to take for granted
that I know all about it, I trust to getting Daebixet alone and
obtaining definite information from him. Are they Yesqeier's caves
we are going to see? "No," Daebixet tells me presently, quite
surprised at my ignorance ; " we are going to see les caves de Pop-
perie—Popp & Co., only Co. 's out of it, and it's all Popp now."

"Now then, Gentlemen," says thegerant of Popp & Co, " here's a
voiture. We have twenty minutes' drive." The Popp-Manager points
out to me all the interesting features of the country. Daebixet
amuses himself by sitting on the box and talking to the coachman.

" It excites me," he explains, when requested to take a back seat
inside—though, by the way, it is in no sense Daebixet's metier to
"take a back seat,"—"it excites me—it amuses me to talk to a
cocker. On ne pent pas causer avec un vrai cocker tuus les jours."

And presently we see them gesticulating to each other and talking
both at once, Daebixet, of course, is speaking English and various
other languages, but as little French as possible, to the evident bewil-
derment of the driver. Daebixet is perfectly happy. " Petzikoff!
Blass the Prince of Waeles ! " I hear him bursting out occasionally.
Whereat the coachman smiles knowingly, and flicks the horses.

VOL. CIi