Billeder på siden
PDF
ePub

mother tells me that Mrs. Lesmontagnes's sons are learned, and Pierre is quite so for one who has only been to the village school. I am told that the reason that the farmer's family is so ignorant is that they are from the mountains.

Pierre tells me to-day that the curés-the priests—make much outcry against working and dancing on Sunday, and much against those men who frequent restaurants on that day. Instead, the curés desire them to pray, and in the afternoon and evening, after the services, to take some recreation, by walking out, by playing bowls or cards, which they play themselves; but people will not listen to them : they sing, they dance, and in the evening the restaurants are full of men, who drink coffee, with the little glass of spirits, or lemonade, beer, wine, brandy, cognac, rum. The brandy, or eau de vie, is sometimes made from carrots, potatoes, and rye, mixed and distilled. Cognac distilled from pressed grapes is much stronger. Rum is made in Normandy; when they boil the syrup of the beets, the scum is taken for this purpose. Brown sugar is not eaten here, Pierre says (but only refined sugars), nor did I see it upon the table in Paris; but I afterwards see a little in the north. My walk this afternoon is with Madame L., who takes me to her sister's. We see a load of nice hay coming in to a farm-house, drawn by two cows. Walking with madame, a subject of talk is still the vines. It is now the season to tie them. She tells me that when they are three years old you must begin to stake them. It is customary to take the stakes up in the autumn, and to sharpen them and replace them in the spring, if they are good enough; remember how scarce wood is. But at the age of seven years the vine is strong enough to support itself. Before the branches run out and clasp each other it is necessary to tie them; this is done with wisps of straw, by which all the branches be

1

longing to one vine are tied together. They are manured during the winter; there is never enough manure for all the vines, and they generally prefer to manure the new ones, which give more fruit. The vines must be cultivated four times a year. The phylloxera has not troubled them here.

Every third or fourth year all the trees in France that do not bear fruit are cut, their branches being trimmed, and sometimes the top taken off too. This is done in August or September. The Lesmontagnes throw the brush down. at the wood-pile, and feed the goat, and sometimes the sheep, with the leaves during the winter. Even in the spring or summer, before the goat went out to pasture, they would throw her down a fagot, and she would nibble away.

Saturday, July 6th.-Pierre tells me that the French liked the war with Germany in the beginning, because they thought they were going to conquer. They went out singing La Marseillaise and Ninety-Three, even when going to slaughter at the mouth of the cannon. But that war cost France the lives of three hundred thousand men, of whom more died by disease than in battle.

Victor spoke of the song Ninety-Three, and he gets Henri, his youngest brother, to write it for me. Henri heads it "Patriotic Song." It speaks of course of the year 1793, during their first Revolution. It tells us that ninetythree shone upon the world like a day-dawn,—like a sublime meteor in the night,—and transformed a nation of serfs into a powerful people. But from the frontiers a savage cry demands the destruction of our pride, and that we shall return to slavery,—we, the sons of liberty. But, proud citizens all, to your borders! To arms against the strangers!

Every Frenchman is a volunteer when his native land is in danger. The second verse says, "Music sounds, and the alarm-gun sends forth its powerful call; every man is a soldier and finds a weapon. They set out chanting a solemn hymn. Close your ranks, impious nobles! for the people, too, will produce gallant men: when one must die for his native land he has no need of ancestors. Then, proud citizens all, to your borders!" etc.

A portion of the third verse says, "Rather than again to see tyranny with its shackles and its rags, rather a hundred times would we lose our lives. Then, people, form your battalions; and, proud citizens all, to your borders!"

etc.

The fourth verse begins: "Behold in a few days fourteen armies; but all is wanting,-arms, shoes, and food. They are hungering for victory, and the enemy shall be their magazine." The remainder of the verse is doubtless of modern manufacture: "To-morrow thy sons, O beloved France! shall bring Prussia to thy knees; and thou wilt say to thy army, My children, I am pleased with you. Then, proud citizens all, to your borders! To arms against the foreigners!" etc.

This Saturday morning madame went very early to market at the village, carrying eggs and two ducks; but when she has a larger load, Henri goes with her to help carry it. When madame gets home she is quite warm. She waits a while, and then takes the everlasting bowl of soup. In it are some sweet-peas, bits of carrot, and bread. As I had a bowl at supper last night, I am able to judge of the quality, and I do not ask for more. She moves her lips and crosses herself, but can answer a question at once. I never see the boys cross themselves before a meal.

Women do not work the gardens here as the "Pennsylvania Dutch" do. These rich farmers have neither tomatoes, cucumbers, nor melons. Pierre says that to have them would cost the labor of another man; but it seems to me that if they greatly desired them the boys could cultivate them. Cucumbers and tomatoes will grow without glass, but not melons, I hear. Pierre has told me that they have a saying that nothing is so stupid as a true Parisian: he drinks wine and eats bread, but he knows nothing of how they are produced. And while gathering bits of talk, I will here add that the people who were out from the village "tasting the country" came here to see the chapel; and madame tells me that they thought I was a demoiselle, or unmarried, because I wore no ring.

I have laughed with the family here about my fears in coming, and have told them that I have before written that one thing which the French need is to tell the truth, but that I find them candid.

Pierre tells me that the French soldier receives his board and clothing and one sous a day, but I afterwards hear that the artillery-men or the cavalry receive two sous! Here the soldier has at five in the morning a cup of coffee without milk, but with a little sugar. At nine he has soup, meat, and bread,—his daily allowance of meat being a little over twelve ounces,-and he does not find himself over-fed. Of bread he has something more than one and a half pounds a day, besides what is in his soup. At five in the summer afternoon, and at four in the winter, he receives again soup, meat, and bread. This meal on Sundays is more of a feast, for he has a ragout of potatoes or mutton (perhaps it is of both). Except his morning coffee, the soldier is allowed

nothing to drink but water, with the addition, for three months in the summer, of syrup of Calabria,—a sort of preparation of chocolate,-which he adds to the water.

This commune or township of Boissières forms part of the canton of St. Jean, as we will call it. The cantonal town is also called St. Jean; and here is the office of the justice of the peace, the post-office, and a little well-built stone barrack for four soldiers, called gens d'armes, and their commander, called a brigadier. It is they who take up people who have offended against the laws.

Several cantons together form an arrondissement. The chief town in our arrondissement we will call Romilies. It has about twenty thousand people, and here resides a subprefect, or, as we may say, lieutenant-governor. Here, too, is a grand tribunal, where important cases are tried employing lawyers; and in Romilies there is, too, a military division of about five hundred men, with a new stone barrack, enclosing a large court-yard. It takes three of these arrondissements to form our department of L—. In the chief city of the department (we will call it St. Martin) resides the prefect, who is appointed, not elected like our governors. There are over eighty departments in France, and the one in which I now am is similar in size to the State of Connecticut. In the chief city of this department there are over one hundred thousand people, and here are two great stone barracks, containing four thousand soldiers.

To Pierre I am indebted for most of the above, and he adds that if there were no soldiers in Paris we should see assassinations every day. In all the great cities, he adds, there would be civil war if there were no soldiers. (He is a young man; I give his opinion.) "See how long," he says, "the silk-workers at Lyons have been short of work, and

« ForrigeFortsæt »