E-text prepared by Les Bowler, St. Ives, Dorset
THE GOLDEN LION OF GRANPERE, BY ANTHONY TROLLOPE.
CHAPTER I.
Up among the Vosges mountains in Lorraine, but just outside the oldhalf-German province of Alsace, about thirty miles distant from thenew and thoroughly French baths of Plombières, there lies thevillage of Granpere. Whatever may be said or thought here in Englandof the late imperial rule in France, it must at any rate be admittedthat good roads were made under the Empire. Alsace, which twentyyears ago seems to have been somewhat behindhand in this respect, receivedher full share of Napoleon’s attention, and Granpere is now placedon an excellent road which runs from the town of Remiremont on one lineof railway, to Colmar on another. The inhabitants of the AlsatianBallon hills and the open valleys among them seem to think that thecivilisation of great cities has been brought near enough to them, asthere is already a diligence running daily from Granpere to Remiremont;—andat Remiremont you are on the railway, and, of course, in the middleof everything.
And indeed an observant traveller will be led to think that a greatdeal of what may most truly be called civilisation has found its wayin among the Ballons, whether it travelled thither by the new-fangledrailways and imperial routes, or found its passage along the valleystreams before imperial favours had been showered upon the district. We are told that when Pastor Oberlin was appointed to his cure as Protestantclergyman in the Ban de la Roche a little more than one hundred yearsago,—that was, in 1767,—this region was densely dark and far behindin the world’s running as regards all progress. The peoplewere ignorant, poor, half-starved, almost savage, destitute of communication,and unable to produce from their own soil enough food for their ownsustenance. Of manufacturing enterprise they understood nothing,and were only just far enough advanced in knowledge for the Protestantsto hate the Catholics, and the Catholics to hate the Protestants. Then came that wonderful clergyman, Pastor Oberlin,—he was indeeda wonderful clergyman,—and made a great change. Since that therehave been the two empires, and Alsace has looked up in the world. Whether the thanks of the people are more honestly due to Oberlin orto the late Emperor, the author of this little story will not pretendto say; but he will venture to express his opinion that at present therural Alsatians are a happy, prosperous people, with the burden on theirshoulders of but few paupers, and fewer gentlemen,—apparently a contentedpeople, not ambitious, given but little to politics. Protestantsand Catholics mingled without hatred or fanaticism, educated thoughnot learned, industrious though not energetic, quiet and peaceful, makinglinen and cheese, growing potatoes, importing corn, coming into theworld, marrying, begetting children, and dying in the wholesome homespunfashion which is so sweet to us in that mood of philosophy which teachesus to love the country and to despise the town. Whether it bebetter for a people to achieve an even level of prosperity, which isshared by all, but which makes none eminent, or to encounter those rough,ambitious, competitive strengths which produce both palaces and poor-houses,shall not be matter of argument here; but the teller of this story isdisposed to think that the chance traveller, as long as he tarries atGranpere, will insensibly and perhaps unconsciously become an advocateof the former doctrine; he will be struck by the comfort which he seesaround him, and for a while will dispense with wealth, luxury, scholarships,and fashion. Whether the inhabitants of these hills and valleyswill advance to farther progress now that they are again to become