ALSACE-LORRAINE

By George Wharton Edwards

 “Section 15”

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Rosheim

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(Intentionally blank)

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There was a little town with houses all embowered in roses and vines, which well merited its name. It is said to have more than three thousand inhabitants, but one wonders where they kept themselves; certainly not more than a score or two were visible the day we spent there; the streets were deserted, and the table d'hote at the good little inn brought forth only one other guest besides ourselves, he a melancholy looking and seedy "commis voyageur," who rarely lifted his eyes from his plate, and ate noisily from the point of his knife. The inn was named the "Pflug." That however was the only thing against it.

Rosheim was once a free city of the Empire, whatever that may mean, and it is said to have been sacked and burned repeatedly in now forgotten wars. There were still some of the ancient fortifications standing in good preservation, and there was a remarkable old gateway with a strange peaked roof of slate set in diamond pattern, and on its wall a large clock-face, painted white, with black figures. At each side were quaintly-gabled

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houses with wooden balconies belonging to a remote period.

Before the gate was a fountain of stone raised on three steps, with a "baldaquin," where women and girls filled their pails. The rest of the town seemed silent and deserted. We explored the old Romanesque Church of SS. Peter and Paul, said to have been consecrated in the year 1049. It has a great octagonal tower with a pointed conical slate roof, which in spite of its ugliness was most impressive from its massive size. We happened upon a large courtyard, with wide open doors at its farther end, and these framed a charming picture. On the farther side was an open sort of "grenier," its broken bars standing out all golden in die sunlight against deep ultramarine shadows within. Beside it, a flight of crumbling mossy steps led up to the garden shadowed by a huge tree; gay nasturtium blossoms clothed the top of the wall, and some blue and white garments were hanging there to dry. Here among the gold-flecked straw under the "grenier" a group of hens and chickens scratched about a lordly "Monsieur Ie Coq."

It was here that we fell in with the mountebank dentist and his daughter. A wagon was drawn up beside the wall: a strange-looking vehicle, something like those pictures one sees of the old diligences which were in use before the railways. This one was painted red, green and blue. It looked like a house on wheels, having three

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doors, one to each of the front compartments, and one for the back, where a sort of ladder was fixed. The horse had been taken out, the shafts raised, with a stake supporting them, and the horse turned about between them, facing the seat, where he munched contentedly at a measure of hay. A door opened and out came a fantastically dressed girl, followed by two small black dogs, who jumped and cavorted about her. We followed to a small stream, where she busied herself washing a pair of shoes with a brush and soap. The two dogs barked at us furiously, resenting our presence. The girl wore a fantastic sort of velvet cap, covered with gold stars of tinsel. I ventured to ask her if those were performing dogs. She shook her head and replied: "No ~M'sieur, they are my pets. No, we are not circus people, as you imagine. My father is a man of science. We live in the wagon - it is our house. We travel thus while my father practices his profession. He is a dentist. We are French, and we come from Paris. Is M'sieur not English'? Ah,  - American. And what language does M'sieur speak'? – English - Well then, how is it that M'sieur speaksEnglish, but he is American-I do not understand-" All at once a loud, harsh voice behind us broke in: "Nom d'Dieu, imbecile! thou art spoiling my shoes and wasting good soap, too."

Close beside us was the most villainous-looking man I had ever seen, glaring at the girl, who cowered before

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him. There were traces of powder and rouge upon her poor white withered face; she could not have been much more than nineteen or twenty, yet she looked older. Her eyes beneath the frizzled sandy bang of faded hair looked as if she had cried away their youthful brightness.

The man switched viciously at the ground with a whip which he carried, much as if he would have used it on her had we not been there. We walked on, but, looking back, saw him standing over her threateningly, still scolding.

He quite spoiled the scene for us, this serpent in the garden. The green strip of meadow, the clear river murmuring over its flat stones; and across, the osier-shaded road stretching towards the dark fringe of trees. Warm sunshine glowed over all, and the grass and leaves shone with all the freshness brought by the morning's showers, and yet for us all the sweet charm of its perfect repose had gone from that lovely spot, while that fierce-eyed sallow-faced man stood there threatening the shrinking girl.

In the afternoon the loud beating of a drum was heard, and we followed a few of the villagers, coming at length upon the dentist's painted wagon, which had been moved to a more public spot.

Upon the very top of the wagon was the girl, now dressed in a gorgeous crimson robe, furiously beating a large bass drum, while the dentist, dressed in a black

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velvet waistcoat and knee breeches and in his shirt sleeves, a spotless white frilled shirt with huge cuffs, its bosom sparkling and gleaming with large gold studs, stood on the small seat in front. He took off a great cocked hat which he wore on his head, and waved it with some grace at the people who stood about. To him climbed a man in a blue blouse, who whispered something to him with evident anxiety. The dentist hesitated for an instant and then bawled out: "Yes – Yes - Certainly - be calm - be easy - do not trouble - I shall come to your house in a short time-about an hour - rest easy, all will be well!" The man got down and went away. "And now, good people," said he, turning to the villagers who stood open-mouthed before him, "you wish to know what 'tis all about? Eh! Well, I promise you certain wonders - hear me and treasure my words, for I bring you health, and science, and comfort! You will say, who is this who has come here among us from the far off great city of Paris. Does this man come to deceive us? - to take our money from us? By no means, my friends. I come here not to sell you anything - but to give away my wonderful medicine – free - free as the air and water! Look"-and he held up a small jar. "This pot holds a miracle - one small pinch of this ointment - only as much as would go on the point of a spoon - has already today here produced a remarkable cure, and yet of this wonderful healing balm I am going to give freely - to

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any of you who are ailing - come up and show me your stiff arm or leg - or your aching back - come to me and be cured! Free-for nothing!"

Then he opened a sort of box before him-and showed glass jars in which were frogs and bugs floating in spirit. The girl on the roof at each period banged the great drum. The peasants eyed him and each other, evidently impressed by his offer of free treatment, but were still suspicious.

"You say to yourselves," went on the mountebank, "this professor claims that he has a remedy for every and all diseases - an infallible remedy!' You are wrong! I did not claim that! I have here a remedy," he held up the little jar with one hand, and with the long lean, yellow forefinger of the other he pointed at each of his hearers, "a remedy, not for every disease, but" - a longer pause -"for some diseases - and for these" - pause" it is surely infallible!" Bang! went the drum.

"There are ailments about which I do not concern myself. I might possibly cure them, or then again I might not." (Bang.) "I never tried." (Bang.) "I cure twelve maladies of humankind." '(Bang.) "The first is cancer." (Bang.) "The second is consumption of the lungs." (Bang.) "The other ten I explain in private to my patients." (Bang.) "Among these is rheumatism." (Bang.)

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One old peasant who stood beneath him here produced a silver coin and held it up to the quack.

"Look," said he, pointing down to the old fellow. "He has faith." (Bang.) "Admire him, for he is no fool!-Nay, my friend," he continued, "I shall not take your money-but you shall come to me by and by and tell me what ails you, and then you may be sure, if my wonderful remedy is for your ailment, you shall have it." (Bang.)

By this time we had had quite enough of all this, and we came away. He probably fleeced the people well, for he departed during the night. Maybe there was a story connected with him and the poor faded girl, who mayor may not have been his daughter. Perhaps even he appeared to be more villainous and evil than he really was, or why should she stay with him? But he certainly looked capable of any sort of crime.

[End of Section 15]

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