Evening star., 1900-09-29
HAS CHIMES NOW
/" Bells Of Corneville " Really Ring in
Quaint Old Normandy.
HAD NONE WHEN OPERA WAS WRITTEN
PitifuI History Of the Prisoner Of
Gisors.
VILLAGE PERFORMANCES
Special Correspondence of The Evening Star.

is lies Cloches de Corneyille''-''The Bells
of Corneville" Corneville being a small
Norman town, too insignificant even to be
noticed in the Baedeker. The most re-
markable thing about Corneville is that 1t
has no bells, or, rather, had no bells until
this summer But the Normans are
canny folk, and twenty-five years after
their town had achieved a world celebrity
by reason of the bells 1t did not own the
Corneville population had the idea to invest
a small sum in printing and postage
stamps The circular that they sent out
broadcast over musical Europe called at
tention to the anomaly of CorneVllle
without it's cloches-you might say a Nor
mandy without it's chimes--and asked, in
the name of the sparkling operette, con-
tribution to "the Cornevile bell fund" AT
last the money is collected, the chlmes
bought and the latter part OF TINS week
is to see the first , of series series Oh 80 v1lage Mag
mandy" performed-after the Oberam-
mergau company fashion-in the pubic
place of the town, the cast comprising
1.-The entire population OF the town, llicluu-
ing the babies, because their mothers can
not leave them.
On our way to Corneville we note how
art glorifies nature. The chorus in Ihe
Chimes of Normandy Is a hilarious lot.
The young men whoop 1T up TO the rattle
of the cider pot, the girls skip about in SILK
stockings, ever breaking into song. Here
the real people are morose and censorlouS.
There is no skipping about the streets or
Gisors. Paris draws to itself all those who
thirst for gayety and noise. Those who
remain are content-like the legendary En-
glish-to take their pleasure sadly. They
are still the pleasures of the cider pot.
supplemented with morning absinthe and
deal Of after-dinner brandy. But they
drink in silence.
The towers of the old castle lift them
I'M a
redolent with the perfume of neW-moWn
hay and grain. Nightingales quarrel music
ally in the blackberry thickets of the an
cient moat of the English kings and the
powman and the cowman, as they plod
their weary way to the cider tavern,
welcomed en- route by bewilderingly fire.
quent lusty children, with their cheeks as
round as apples, calling Pau, pap"
Chorus Girls of CorneviiIe.
The country maiden here appears to wear
six or seven skirts, hanging heavily from
the hips From the hips up she is incased
In a stiff stuff that makes her movements
awkward Her hair licked" back severely,
under a phenomenaly ugly archaic white
bonnet, stiffiy starched her shoulders rigid
above the long corset in which she tor
lures herself, the corsage plain and badly
fitting, with long single row of silly but
tens, heavy black mitts on her hands and
pink kid shoes on large feet-the country
girl suffers much in contrast with the
Parisienne. 1t IS the latter who seems to
have the country virtues, even that OF
health The Norman maiden;s cheek was
blotchy. and her nose trifie tinted at the
tip. Helas! and are the chorus girls of
Corneville to look SO? | have not seen a
fresh face in this town of Gisors.
The phySiognomy of GiSorS Is diversified
by running streams Three little rivers
trinity banked with stone rivers twelve
feet wide, wind all through the place In
their sluggish currents green tufts of water
YFn q IA
bosoms Of these streams are decorated with
water fowl, geese, ducks and swans, the
latter the property of a retired Paris
grocer Eel fishing is the pastime of
thoughtful residents along the banks, and
stewed eel served cold with sauce tartare
is a notable dish at the Hotel de rEcu de
France.
The three streams, which at one time fed
the moat of the castle, straggle through the
town and join each other outside like three
tramps Along the crooked streets you
come upon SO many unexpected ancient
bridges that you might think ten rivers
flowed through Gisors. Each. bridge affords
vista of overarching trees that shade the
stream, and dark, cool depths, through
which the air comes fresh and moist even
in the high summer noon.
Gisors is fifty miles from Paris, on the
line to Dieppe, more than midway to the
sea. 1t has now only 1900 inhabitants, but
in the thirteenth century, when 1t was the
capital of the Norman Vexn it was a
place Of note. It's chief present possession
Is the ruined castle, built by Henry III of
England. Duke of Normandy. This castle
sits on hill in the middle Of the town,
which clusters round it.
There remains comparatively little of
this once immense fortress Enough ex-
lists, however, to give the most careless Wis
ltor something of an idea of what 1t must
have been through the middle ages. Most
OF it's outer walls are still standing. Their
tops SO long ago were converted into pub
Tic promenades that trees are growing on
them. In the shade around about you
come upon twelve round towers that rise
above the walls at intervals.
The Prisoner Of Gisors
From the depths of the moat below you
look straight up against sheer walls of i'm
mense solidity. They were solid enough
for Walfram, the prisoner Of Gisors, the
undiscouraged, handsome and accomplished
youth, the favorite of the Emperor Maxi
milan. held prisoner in them by an unfor-
giving king. Louis XI of France, who, in
spite of his great works, no historical
Whltewashing can leave anything but a
black and ugly type, trapped the young
Austrian and hailed him to the lowest dun
geon of this castle
The unfortunate prisoner went into con-
fnement at the age of twenty and was
released only on the deathbed of the bad
king, whose tricks and lodges are not un-
known to the readers of Walter Scott's
quentin Durward." Twenty years he
walk in the sunlight after his release ''he
fell to the ground upon his face, weeping
and declaring he was only fit to go back
to his black prison. He always afterward
preferred the night to the day. And he
kept the habit, to the time of his death, of
walking for hours in a circle whenever he
was thinking intently-a circle the circum-
ference of his old dungeon walls
These are the words of the old dame who
has the showing of the castle. She lights
bits Of candles, a dozen of them, and
leads you down the winding stairs of this
one tower, placing the lighted candles at
intervals. To get to the accursed stair
way you must have mounted from the
ground floor by another stairway to a
height of nearly half way up the tower.
Then, in a large room, with three small
windows and a fireplace, you see the door
way to the dungeon steps.
His portrait hangs In the hall of histori
cal personages at Versailles; and here in
Gisor's dungeon he has left imperishable
marks of his activity. The walls are of
heavy, soft stone. fifteen feet thick. The
room is twenty PAGES in diameter and is
lighted only by the splayed loopholes,
which, with the turning of the sun, threw
strips of light into the dark obscurity.
These slits of windows are twelve feet
above the floor. He must have had knife
or dagger. One of his works was to cut
deep footholes in the soft stone by which
he could climb up to each window and take
air. His cell was always dark except q
patch of wall directly opposite the particu-
1or ind q ,f4I, -