Sons of the Soil

H >> Honore de Balzac >> Sons of the Soil


The Comte de Soulanges, peer of France, selected to be the next
marshal, and faithful to the Bourbons, knew that his forests and other
property were all well-managed by the notary Lupin, and well-watched
by Soudry. He was a patron of Gendrin's, having obtained his
appointment as judge partly by the help of Monsieur de Ronquerolles.

Messieurs Leclercq and de Ronquerolles sat in the Left Centre, but
nearer to the left than to the centre,--a political position which
offers great advantages to those who regard their political conscience
as a garment.

The brother of Monsieur Leclercq had obtained the situation of
collector at Ville-aux-Fayes, and Leclercq himself, Gaubertin's
son-in-law, had lately bought a fine estate beyond the valley of the
Avonne, which brought him in a rental of thirty thousand francs, with
park and chateau and a controlling influence in its own canton.

Thus, in the upper regions of the State, in both Chambers, and in the
chief ministerial department, Gaubertin could rely on an influence
that was powerful and also active, and which he was careful not to
weary with unimportant requests.

The counsellor Gendrin, appointed judge by the Chamber, was the
leading spirit of the Supreme Court; for the chief justice, one of the
three ministerial deputies, left the management of it to Gendrin
during half the year. The counsel for the Prefecture, a cousin of
Sarcus, called "Sarcus the rich," was the right-hand man of the
prefect, himself a deputy. Even without the family reasons which
allied Gaubertin and young des Lupeaulx, a brother of Madame Sarcus
would still have been desirable as sub-prefect to the arrondissement
of Ville-aux-Fayes. Madame Sarcus, the counsellor's wife, was a Vallat
of Soulanges, a family connected with the Gaubertins, and she was said
to have "distinguished" the notary Lupin in her youth. Though she was
now forty-five years old, with a son in the school of engineers, Lupin
never went to the Prefecture without paying his respects and dining
with her.

The nephew of Guerbet, the postmaster, whose father was, as we have
seen, collector of Soulanges, held the important situation of
examining judge in the municipal court of Ville-aux-Fayes. The third
judge, son of Corbinet, the notary, belonged body and soul to the
all-powerful mayor; and, finally, young Vigor, son of the lieutenant
of the gendarmerie, was the substitute judge.

Sibilet's father, sheriff of the court, had married his sister to
Monsieur Vigor the lieutenant, and that individual, father of six
children, was cousin of the father of Gaubertin through his wife, a
Gaubertin-Vallat. Eighteen months previously the united efforts of the
two deputies, Monsieur de Soulanges and Gaubertin, had created the
place of commissary of police for the sheriff's second son.

Sibilet's eldest daughter married Monsieur Herve, a school-master,
whose school was transformed into a college as a result of this
marriage, so that for the past year Soulanges had rejoiced in the
presence of a professor.

The sheriff's youngest son was employed on the government domains,
with the promise of succeeding the clerk of registrations so soon as
that officer had completed the term of service which enabled him to
retire on a pension.

The youngest Sibilet girl, now sixteen years old, was betrothed to
Corbinet, brother of the notary. And an old maid, Mademoiselle
Gaubertin-Vallat, sister of Madame Sibilet, the sheriff's wife, held
the office for the sale of stamped paper.

Thus, wherever we turn in Ville-aux-Fayes we meet some member of the
invisible coalition, whose avowed chief, recognized as such by every
one, great and small, was the mayor of the town, the general agent for
the entire timber business, Gaubertin!

If we turn to the other end of the valley of the Avonne we shall see
that Gaubertin ruled at Soulanges through the Soudrys, through Lupin
the assistant mayor and steward of the Soulanges estate, who was
necessarily in constant communication with the Comte de Soulanges,
through Sarcus, justice of the peace, through Guerbet, the collector,
through Gourdon, the doctor, who had married a Gendrin-Vatebled. He
governed Blangy through Rigou, Conches through the post-master, the
despotic ruler of his own district.

Gaubertin's influence was so great and powerful that even the
investments and the savings of Rigou, Soudry, Gendrin, Guerbet, Lupin,
even Sarcus the rich himself, were managed by his advice. The town of
Ville-aux-Fayes believed implicitly in its mayor. Gaubertin's ability
was not less extolled than his honesty and his kindness; he was the
servant of his relatives and constituents (always with an eye to a
return of benefits), and the whole municipality adored him. The town
never ceased to blame Monsieur Mariotte, of Auxerre, for having
opposed and thwarted that worthy Monsieur Gaubertin.

Not aware of their strength, no occasion for displaying it having
arisen, the bourgeoisie of Ville-aux-Fayes contented themselves with
boasting that no strangers intermeddled in their affairs and they
believed themselves excellent citizens and faithful public servants.
Nothing, however, escaped their despotic rule, which in itself was not
perceived, the result being considered a triumph of the locality.

The only stranger in this family community was the government engineer
in the highway department; and his dismissal in favor of the son of
Sarcus the rich was now being pressed, with a fair chance that this
one weak thread in the net would soon be strengthened. And yet this
powerful league, which monopolized all duties both public and private,
sucked the resources of the region, and fastened on power like limpets
to a ship, escaped all notice so completely that General Montcornet
had no suspicion of it. The prefect boasted of the prosperity of
Ville-aux-Fayes and its arrondissement; even the minister of the
interior was heard to remark: "There's a model sub-prefecture, which
runs on wheels; we should be lucky indeed if all were like it." Family
designs were so involved with local interests that here, as in many
other little towns and even prefectures, a functionary who did not
belong to the place would have been forced to resign within a year.

When this despotic middle-class cousinry seizes a victim, he is so
carefully gagged and bound that complaint is impossible; he is smeared
with slime and wax like a snail in a beehive. This invisible,
imperceptible tyranny is upheld by powerful reasons,--such as the wish
to be surrounded by their own family, to keep property in their own
hands, the mutual help they ought to lend each other, the guarantees
given to the administration by the fact that their agent is under the
eyes of his fellow-citizens and neighbors. What does all this lead to?
To the fact that local interests supersede all questions of public
interest; the centralized will of Paris is frequently overthrown in
the provinces, the truth of things is disguised, and country
communities snap their fingers at government. In short, after the main
public necessities have been attended to, it will be seen that the
laws, instead of acting upon the masses, receive their impulse from
them; the populations adapt the law to themselves and not themselves
to the law.

Whoever has travelled in the south or west of France, or in Alsace, in
any other way than from inn to inn to see buildings and landscapes,
will surely admit the truth of these remarks. The results of
middle-class nepotism may be, at present, merely isolated evils; but
the tendency of existing laws is to increase them. This low-level
despotism can and will cause great disasters, and the events of the
drama about to be played in the valley of Les Aigues will prove it.

The monarchical and imperial systems, more rashly overthrown than
people realize, remedied these abuses by means of certain consecrated
lives, by classifications and categories and by those particular
counterpoises since so absurdly defined as "privileges." There are no
privileges now, when every human being is free to climb the greased
pole of power. But surely it would be safer to allow open and avowed
privileges than those which are underhand, based on trickery,
subversive of what should be public spirit, and continuing the work of
despotism to a lower and baser level than heretofore. May we not have
overthrown noble tyrants devoted to their country's good, to create
the tyranny of selfish interests? Shall power lurk in secret places,
instead of radiating from its natural source? This is worth thinking
about. The spirit of local sectionalism, such as we have now depicted,
will soon be seen to invade the Chamber.

Montcornet's friend, the late prefect, Comte de la Roche-Hugon, had
lost his position just before the last arrival of the general at Les
Aigues. This dismissal drove him into the ranks of the Liberal
opposition, where he became one of the chorus of the Left, a position
he soon after abandoned for an embassy. His successor, luckily for
Montcornet, was a son-in-law of the Marquis de Troisville, uncle of
the countess, the Comte de Casteran. He welcomed Montcornet as a
relation and begged him to continue his intimacy at the Prefecture.
After listening to the general's complaints the Comte de Casteran
invited the bishop, the attorney-general, the colonel of the
gendarmerie, counsellor Sarcus, and the general commanding the
division to meet him the next day at breakfast.

The attorney-general, Baron Bourlac (so famous in the Chanterie and
Rifael suits), was one of those men well-known to all governments, who
attach themselves to power, no matter in whose hands it is, and who
make themselves invaluable by such devotion. Having owed his elevation
in the first place to his fanaticism for the Emperor, he now owed the
retention of his official rank to his inflexible character and the
conscientiousness with which he fulfilled his duties. He who once
implacably prosecuted the remnant of the Chouans now prosecuted the
Bonapartists as implacably. But years and turmoils had somewhat
subdued his energy and he had now become, like other old devils
incarnate, perfectly charming in manner and ways.

The general explained his position and the fears of his bailiff, and
spoke of the necessity of making an example and enforcing the rights
of property.

The high functionaries listened gravely, making, however, no reply
beyond mere platitudes, such as, "Undoubtedly, the laws must be
upheld"; "Your cause is that of all land-owners"; "We will consider
it; but, situated as we are, prudence is very necessary"; "A monarchy
could certainly do more for the people than the people would do for
itself, even if it were, as in 1793, the sovereign people"; "The
masses suffer, and we are bound to do as much for them as for
ourselves."

The relentless attorney-general expressed such kindly and benevolent
views respecting the condition of the lower classes that our future
Utopians, had they heard him, might have thought that the higher grade
of government officials were already aware of the difficulties of that
problem which modern society will be forced to solve.

It may be well to say here that at this period of the Restoration,
various bloody encounters had taken place in remote parts of the
kingdom, caused by this very question of the pillage of woods, and the
marauding rights which the peasants were everywhere arrogating to
themselves. Neither the government nor the court liked these
outbreaks, nor the shedding of blood which resulted from repression.
Though they felt the necessity of rigorous measures, they nevertheless
treated as blunderers the officials who were compelled to employ them,
and dismissed them on the first pretence. The prefects were therefore
anxious to shuffle out of such difficulties whenever possible.

At the very beginning of the conversation Sarcus (the rich) had made a
sign to the prefect and the attorney-general which Montcornet did not
see, but which set the tone of the discussion. The attorney-general
was well aware of the state of mind of the inhabitants of the valley
des Aigues through his subordinate, Soudry the young attorney.

"I foresee a terrible struggle," the latter had said to him. "They
mean to kill the gendarmes; my spies tell me so. It will be very hard
to convict them for it. The instant the jury feel they are incurring
the hatred of the friends of the twenty or thirty prisoners, they will
not sustain us,--we could not get them to convict for death, nor even
for the galleys. Possibly by prosecuting in person you might get a few
years' imprisonment for the actual murderers. Better shut our eyes
than open them, if by opening them we bring on a collision which costs
bloodshed and several thousand francs to the State,--not to speak of
the cost of keeping the guilty in prison. It is too high a price to
pay for a victory which will only reveal our judicial weakness to the
eyes of all."

Montcornet, who was wholly without suspicion of the strength and
influence of the Mediocracy in his happy valley, did not even mention
Gaubertin, whose hand kept these embers of opposition always alive,
though smouldering. After breakfast the attorney-general took
Montcornet by the arm and led him to the Prefect's study. When the
general left that room after their conference, he wrote to his wife
that he was starting for Paris and should be absent a week. We shall
see, after the execution of certain measures suggested by Baron
Bourlac, the attorney-general, whether the secret advice he gave to
Montcornet was wise, and whether in conforming to it the count and Les
Aigues were enabled to escape the "Evil grudge."

Some minds, eager for mere amusement, will complain that these various
explanations are far too long; but we once more call attention to the
fact that the historian of the manners, customs, and morals of his
time must obey a law far more stringent than that imposed on the
historian of mere facts. He must show the probability of everything,
even the truth; whereas, in the domain of history, properly so-called,
the impossible must be accepted for the sole reason that it did
happen. The vicissitudes of social or private life are brought about
by a crowd of little causes derived from a thousand conditions. The
man of science is forced to clear away the avalanche under which whole
villages lie buried, to show you the pebbles brought down from the
summit which alone can determine the formation of the mountain. If the
historian of human life were simply telling you of a suicide, five
hundred of which occur yearly in Paris, the melodrama is so
commonplace that brief reasons and explanations are all that need be
given; but how shall he make you see that the self-destruction of an
estate could happen in these days when property is reckoned of more
value than life? "De re vestra agitur," said a maker of fables; this
tale concerns the affairs and interests of all those, no matter who
they be, who possess anything.

Remember that this coalition of a whole canton and of a little town
against a general, who, in spite of his rash courage, had escaped the
dangers of actual war, is going on in other districts against other
men who seek only to do what is right by those districts. It is a
coalition which to-day threatens every man, the man of genius, the
statesman, the modern agriculturalist,--in short, all innovators.

This last explanation not only gives a true presentation of the
personages of this drama, and a serious meaning even to its petty
details, but it also throws a vivid light upon the scene where so many
social interests are now marshalling.



CHAPTER X

THE SADNESS OF A HAPPY WOMAN

At the moment when the general was getting into his caleche to go to
the Prefecture, the countess and the two gentlemen reached the gate of
the Avonne, where, for the last eighteen months, Michaud and his wife
Olympe had made their home.

Whose remembered the pavilion in the state in which we lately
described it would have supposed it had been rebuilt. The bricks
fallen or broken by time, and the cement lacking to their edges, were
replaced; the slate roof had been cleaned, and the effect of the white
balustrade against its bluish background restored the gay character of
the architecture. The approaches to the building, formerly choked up
and sandy, were now cared for by the man whose duty it was to keep the
park roadways in order. The poultry-yard, stables, and cow-shed,
relegated to the buildings near the pheasantry and hidden by clumps of
trees, instead of afflicting the eye with their foul details, now
blended those soft murmurs and cooings and the sound of flapping
wings, which are among the most delightful accompaniments of Nature's
eternal harmony, with the peculiar rustling sounds of the forest. The
whole scene possessed the double charm of a natural, untouched forest
and the elegance of an English park. The surroundings of the pavilion,
in keeping with its own exterior, presented a certain noble,
dignified, and cordial effect; while the hand of a young and happy
woman gave to its interior a very different look from what it wore
under the coarse neglect of Courtecuisse.

Just now the rich season of the year was putting forth its natural
splendors. The perfume of the flowerbeds blended with the wild odor of
the woods; and the meadows near by, where the grass had been lately
cut, sent up the fragrance of new-mown hay.

When the countess and her guests reached the end of one of the winding
paths which led to the pavilion, they saw Madame Michaud, sitting in
the open air before the door, employed in making a baby's garment. The
young woman thus placed, thus employed, added the human charm that was
needed to complete the scene,--a charm so touching in its actuality
that painters have committed the error of endeavoring to convey it in
their pictures. Such artists forget that the SOUL of a landscape, if
they represent it truly, is so grand that the human element is crushed
by it; whereas such a scene added to Nature limits her to the
proportions of the personality, like a frame to which the mind of the
spectator confines it. When Poussin, the Raffaelle of France, made a
landscape accessory to his Shepherds of Arcadia he perceived plainly
enough that man becomes diminutive and abject when Nature is made the
principal feature on a canvas. In that picture August is in its glory,
the harvest is ready, all simple and strong human interests are
represented. There we find realized in nature the dream of many men
whose uncertain life of mingled good and evil harshly mixed makes them
long for peace and rest.

Let us now relate, in few words, the romance of this home. Justin
Michaud did not reply very cordially to the advances made to him by
the illustrious colonel of cuirassiers when first offered the
situation of bailiff at Les Aigues. He was then thinking of
re-entering the service. But while the negotiations, which naturally
took him to the Hotel Montcornet, were going on, he met the countess's
head waiting-maid. This young girl, who was entrusted to Madame de
Montcornet by her parents, worthy farmers in the neighborhood of
Alencon, had hopes of a little fortune, some twenty or thirty thousand
francs, when the heirs were all of age. Like other farmers who marry
young, and whose own parents are still living, the father and mother
of the girl, being pinched for immediate means, placed her with the
young countess. Madame de Montcornet had her taught to sew and to make
dresses, arranged that she should take her meals alone, and was
rewarded for the care she bestowed on Olympe Charel by one of those
unconditional attachments which are so precious to Parisians.

Olympe Charel, a pretty Norman girl, rather stout, with fair hair of a
golden tint, an animated face lighted by intelligent eyes, and
distinguished by a finely curved thoroughbred nose, with a maidenly
air in spite of a certain swaying Spanish manner of carrying herself,
possessed all the points that a young girl born just above the level
of the masses is likely to acquire from whatever close companionship a
mistress is willing to allow her. Always suitably dressed, with modest
bearing and manner, and able to express herself well, Michaud was soon
in love with her,--all the more when he found that his sweetheart's
dowry would one day be considerable. The obstacles came from the
countess, who could not bear to part with so invaluable a maid; but
when Montcornet explained to her the affairs at Les Aigues, she gave
way, and the marriage was no longer delayed, except to obtain the
consent of the parents, which, of course, was quickly given.

Michaud, like his general, looked upon his wife as a superior being,
to whom he owed military obedience without a single reservation. He
found in the peace of his home and his busy life out-of-doors the
elements of a happiness soldiers long for when they give up their
profession,--enough work to keep his body healthy, enough fatigue to
let him know the charms of rest. In spite of his well-known
intrepidity, Michaud had never been seriously wounded, and he had none
of those physical pains which often sour the temper of veterans. Like
all really strong men, his temper was even; his wife, therefore, loved
him utterly. From the time they took up their abode in the pavilion,
this happy home was the scene of a long honey-moon in harmony with
Nature and with the art whose creations surrounded them,--a
circumstance rare indeed! The things about us are seldom in keeping
with the condition of our souls!

The picture was so pretty that the countess stopped short and pointed
it out to Blondet and the abbe; for they could see Madame Michaud from
where they stood, without her seeing them.

"I always come this way when I walk in the park," said the countess,
softly. "I delight in looking at the pavilion and its two
turtle-doves, as much as I delight in a fine view."

She leaned significantly on Blondet's arm, as if to make him share
sentiments too delicate for words but which all women feel.

"I wish I were a gate-keeper at Les Aigues," said Blondet, smiling.
"Why! what troubles you?" he added, noticing an expression of sadness
on the countess's face.

"Nothing," she replied.

Women are always hiding some important thought when they say,
hypocritically, "It is nothing."

"A woman may be the victim of ideas which would seem very flimsy to
you," she added, "but which, to us, are terrible. As for me, I envy
Olympe's lot."

"God hears you," said the abbe, smiling as though to soften the
sternness of his remark.

Madame de Montcornet grew seriously uneasy when she noticed an
expression of fear and anxiety in Olympe's face and attitude. By the
way a woman draws out her needle or sets her stitches another woman
understands her thoughts. In fact, though wearing a rose-colored
dress, with her hair carefully braided about her head, the bailiff's
wife was thinking of matters that were out of keeping with her pretty
dress, the glorious day, and the work her hands were engaged on. Her
beautiful brow, and the glance she turned sometimes on the ground at
her feet, sometimes on the foliage around, evidently seeing nothing,
betrayed some deep anxiety,--all the more unconsciously because she
supposed herself alone.

"Just as I was envying her! What can have saddened her?" whispered the
countess to the abbe.

"Madame," he replied in the same tone, "tell me why man is often
seized with vague and unaccountable presentiments of evil in the very
midst of some perfect happiness?"

"Abbe!" said Blondet, smiling, "you talk like a bishop. Napoleon said,
'Nothing is stolen, all is bought!'"

"Such a maxim, uttered by those imperial lips, takes the proportions
of society itself," replied the priest.

"Well, Olympe, my dear girl, what is the matter?" said the countess
going up to her former maid. "You seem sad and thoughtful; is it a
lover's quarrel?"

Madame Michaud's face, as she rose, changed completely.

"My dear," said Emile Blondet, in a fatherly tone, "I should like to
know what clouds that brow of yours, in this pavilion where you are
almost as well lodged as the Comte d'Artois at the Tuileries. It is
like a nest of nightingales in a grove! And what a husband we have!
--the bravest fellow of the young garde, and a handsome one, who loves
us to distraction! If I had known the advantages Montcornet has given
you here I should have left my diatribing business and made myself a
bailiff."

"It is not the place for a man of your talent, monsieur," replied
Olympe, smiling at Blondet as an old acquaintance.

"But what troubles you, dear?" said the countess.

"Madame, I'm afraid--"

"Afraid! of what?" said the countess, eagerly; for the word reminded
her of Mouche and Fourchon.

"Afraid of the wolves, is that it?" said Emile, making Madame Michaud
a sign, which she did not understand.

"No, monsieur,--afraid of the peasants. I was born in Le Perche, where
of course there are some bad people, but I had no idea how wicked
people could be until I came here. I try not to meddle in Michaud's
affairs, but I do know that he distrusts the peasants so much that he
goes armed, even in broad daylight, when he enters the forest. He
warns his men to be always on the alert. Every now and then things
happen about here that bode no good. The other day I was walking along
the wall, near the source of that little sandy rivulet which comes
from the forest and enters the park through a culvert about five
hundred feet from here,--you know it, madame? it is called Silver
Spring, because of the star-flowers Bouret is said to have sown there.
Well, I overheard the talk of two women who were washing their linen
just where the path to Conches crosses the brook; they did not know I
was there. Our house can be seen from that point, and one old woman
pointed it out to the other, saying: 'See what a lot of money they
have spent on the man who turned out Courtecuisse.' 'They ought to pay
a man well when they set him to harass poor people as that man does,'
answered the other. 'Well, it won't be for long,' said the first one;
'the thing is going to end soon. We have a right to our wood. The late
Madame allowed us to take it. That's thirty years ago, so the right is
ours.' 'We'll see what we shall see next winter,' replied the second.
'My man has sworn the great oath that all the gendarmerie in the world
sha'n't keep us from getting our wood; he says he means to get it
himself, and if the worst happens so much the worse for them!' 'Good
God!' cried the other; 'we can't die of cold, and we must bake bread
to eat! They want for nothing, _those others_! the wife of that
scoundrel of a Michaud will be taken care of, I warrant you!' And
then, Madame, they said such horrible things of me and of you and of
Monsieur le comte; and they finally declared that the farms would all
be burned, and then the chateau."