sons of the soil-第3章

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their　reigns　upon　Les　Aigues。　What　palace；　what　royal　castle；　what

mansions；　what　noble　works　of　art；　what　gold　brocaded　stuffs　are

sacred　now？　The　petticoats　of　our　grandmothers　go　to　cover　the　chairs

in　these　degenerate　days。　Selfish　and　thieving　interlopers　that　we

are；　we　pull　down　everything　and　plant　cabbages　where　marvels　once

were　rife。　Only　yesterday　the　plough　levelled　Persan；　that　magnificent

domain　which　gave　a　title　to　one　of　the　most　opulent　families　of　the

old　parliament；　hammers　have　demolished　Montmorency；　which　cost　an

Italian　follower　of　Napoleon　untold　sums；　Val；　the　creation　of

Regnault　de　Saint…Jean　d'Angely；　Cassan；　built　by　a　mistress　of　the

Prince　de　Conti；　in　all；　four　royal　houses　have　disappeared　in　the

valley　of　the　Oise　alone。　We　are　getting　a　Roman　campagna　around　Paris

in　advance　of　the　days　when　a　tempest　shall　blow　from　the　north　and

overturn　our　plaster　palaces　and　our　pasteboard　decorations。



Now　see；　my　dear　fellow；　to　what　the　habit　of　bombasticising　in

newspapers　brings　you　to。　Here　am　I　writing　a　downright　article。　Does

the　mind　have　its　ruts；　like　a　road？　I　stop；　for　I　rob　the　mail；　and　I

rob　myself；　and　you　may　be　yawningto　be　continued　in　our　next；　I

hear　the　second　bell；　which　summons　me　to　one　of　those　abundant

breakfasts　the　fashion　of　which　has　long　passed　away；　in　the　dining…

rooms　of　Paris；　be　it　understood。



Here's　the　history　of　my　Arcadia。　In　1815；　there　died　at　Les　Aigues

one　of　the　famous　wantons　of　the　last　century；a　singer；　forgotten　of

the　guillotine　and　the　nobility；　after　preying　upon　exchequers；　upon

literature；　upon　aristocracy；　and　all　but　reaching　the　scaffold；

forgotten；　like　so　many　fascinating　old　women　who　expiate　their　golden

youth　in　country　solitudes；　and　replace　their　lost　loves　by　another；

man　by　Nature。　Such　women　live　with　the　flowers；　with　the　woodland

scents；　with　the　sky；　with　the　sunshine；　with　all　that　sings　and　skips

and　shines　and　sprouts；the　birds；　the　squirrels；　the　flowers；　the

grass；　they　know　nothing　about　these　things；　they　cannot　explain　them；

but　they　love　them；　they　love　them　so　well　that　they　forget　dukes；

marshals；　rivalries；　financiers；　follies；　luxuries；　their　paste　jewels

and　their　real　diamonds；　their　heeled　slippers　and　their　rouge；all；

for　the　sweetness　of　country　life。



I　have　gathered；　my　dear　fellow；　much　precious　information　about　the

old　age　of　Mademoiselle　Laguerre；　for；　to　tell　you　the　truth；　the

after　life　of　such　women　as　Florine；　Mariette；　Suzanne　de　Val　Noble；

and　Tullia　has　made　me；　every　now　and　then；　extremely　inquisitive；　as

though　I　were　a　child　inquiring　what　had　become　of　the　old　moons。



In　1790　Mademoiselle　Laguerre；　alarmed　at　the　turn　of　public　affairs；

came　to　settle　at　Les　Aigues；　bought　and　given　to　her　by　Bouret；　who

passed　several　summers　with　her　at　the　chateau。　Terrified　at　the　fate

of　Madame　du　Barry；　she　buried　her　diamonds。　At　that　time　she　was　only

fifty…three　years　of　age；　and　according　to　her　lady's…maid；　afterwards

married　to　a　gendarme　named　Soudry；　〃Madame　was　more　beautiful　than

ever。〃　My　dear　Nathan；　Nature　has　no　doubt　her　private　reasons　for

treating　women　of　this　sort　like　spoiled　children；　excesses；　instead

of　killing　them；　fatten　them；　preserve　them；　renew　their　youth。　Under

a　lymphatic　appearance　they　have　nerves　which　maintain　their

marvellous　physique；　they　actually　preserve　their　beauty　for　reasons

which　would　make　a　virtuous　woman　haggard。　No；　upon　my　word；　Nature　is

not　moral！



Mademoiselle　Laguerre　lived　an　irreproachable　life　at　Les　Aigues；　one

might　even　call　it　a　saintly　one；　after　her　famous　adventure；you

remember　it？　One　evening　in　a　paroxysm　of　despairing　love；　she　fled

from　the　opera…house　in　her　stage　dress；　rushed　into　the　country；　and

passed　the　night　weeping　by　the　wayside。　（Ah！　how　they　have

calumniated　the　love　of　Louis　XV。's　time！）　She　was　so　unused　to　see

the　sunrise；　that　she　hailed　it　with　one　of　her　finest　songs。　Her

attitude；　quite　as　much　as　her　tinsel；　drew　the　peasants　about　her；

amazed　at　her　gestures；　her　voice；　her　beauty；　they　took　her　for　an

angel；　and　dropped　on　their　knees　around　her。　If　Voltaire　had　not

existed　we　might　have　thought　it　a　new　miracle。　I　don't　know　if　God

gave　her　much　credit　for　her　tardy　virtue；　for　love　after　all　must　be

a　sickening　thing　to　a　woman　as　weary　of　it　as　a　wanton　of　the　old

Opera。　Mademoiselle　Laguerre　was　born　in　1740；　and　her　hey…day　was　in

1760；　when　Monsieur　（I　forget　his　name）　was　called　the　〃ministre　de　la

guerre；〃　on　account　of　his　liaison　with　her。　She　abandoned　that　name；

which　was　quite　unknown　down　here；　and　called　herself　Madame　des

Aigues；　as　if　to　merge　her　identity　in　the　estate；　which　she　delighted

to　improve　with　a　taste　that　was　profoundly　artistic。　When　Bonaparte

became　First　Consul；　she　increased　her　property　by　the　purchase　of

church　lands；　for　which　she　used　the　proceeds　of　her　diamonds。　As　an

Opera　divinity　never　knows　how　to　take　care　of　her　money；　she

intrusted　the　management　of　the　estate　to　a　steward；　occupying　herself

with　her　flowers　and　fruits　and　with　the　beautifying　of　the　park。



After　Mademoiselle　was　dead　and　buried　at　Blangy；　the　notary　of

Soulangesthat　little　town　which　lies　between　Ville…aux…Fayes　and

Blangy；　the　capital　of　the　townshipmade　an　elaborate　inventory；　and

sought　out　the　heirs　of　the　singer；　who　never　knew　she　had　any。　Eleven

families　of　poor　laborers　living　near　Amiens；　and　sleeping　in　cotton

sheets；　awoke　one　fine　morning　in　golden　ones。　The　property　was　sold

at　auction。　Les　Aigues　was　bought　by　Montcornet；　who　had　laid　by

enough　during　his　campaigns　in　Spain　and　Pomerania　to　make　the

purchase；　which　cost　about　eleven　hundred　thousand　francs；　including

the　furniture。　The　general；　no　doubt；　felt　the　influence　of　these

luxurious　apartments；　and　I　was　arguing　with　the　countess　only

yesterday　that　her　marriage　was　a　direct　result　of　the　purchase　of　Les

Aigues。



To　rightly　understand　the　countess；　my　dear　Nathan；　you　must　know　that

the　general　is　a　violent　man；　red　as　fire；　five　feet　nine　inches　tall；

round　as　a　tower；　with　a　thick　neck　and　the　shoulders　of　a　blacksmith；

which　must　have　amply　filled　his　cuirass。　Montcornet　commanded　the

cuirassiers　at　the　battle　of　Essling　（called　by　the　Austrians　Gross…

Aspern）；　and　came　near　perishing　when　that　noble　corps　was　driven　back

on　the　Danube。　He　managed　to　cross　the　river　astride　a　log　of　wood。

The　cuirassiers；　finding　the　bridge　down；　took　the　glorious

resolution；　at　Montcornet's　command；　to　turn　and　resist　the　entire

Austrian　army；　which　carried　off　on　the　morrow　over　thirty　wagon…loads

of　cuirasses。　The　Germans　invented　a　name　for　their　enemies　on　this

occasion　which　means　〃men　of　iron。〃＇*＇　Montcornet　has　the　outer　man　of

a　hero　of　antiquity。　His　arms　are　stout　and　vigorous；　his　chest　deep

and　broad；　his　head　has　a　leonine　aspect；　his　voice　is　of　those　that

can　order　a　charge　in　the　thick　of　battle；　but　he　has　nothing　more

than　the　courage　of　a　daring　man；　he　lacks　mind　and　breadth　of　view。

Like　other　generals　to　whom　military　common…sense；　the　natural

boldness　of　those　who　spend　their　lives　in　danger；　and　the　habit　of

command　gives　an　appearance　of　superiority；　Montcornet　has　an　imposing

effect　when　you　first　meet　him；　he　seems　a　Titan；　but　he　contains　a

dwarf；　like　the　pasteboard　giant　who　saluted　Queen　Elizabeth　at　the

gates　of　Kenilworth。　Choleric　though　kind；　and　full　of　imperial

hauteur；　he　has　the　caustic　tongue　of　a　soldier；　and　is　quick　at

repartee；　but　quicker　still　with　a　blow。　He　may　have　been　superb　on　a

battle…field；　in　a　household　he　is　simply　intolerable。　He　knows　no

love　but　barrack　love；the　love　which　those　clever　myth…makers；　the

ancients；　placed　under　the　patronage　of　Eros；　son　of　Mars　and　Venus。

Those　delightful　chroniclers　of　the　old　religions　provided　themselves

with　a　dozen　different　Loves。　Study　the　fathers　and　the　attributes　of

these　Loves；　and　you　will　discover　a　complete　social　nomenclature；

and　yet　we　fancy　that　we　originate　things！　When　the　world　turns　upside

down　like　an　hour…glass；　when　the　seas　become　continents；　Frenchmen

will　find　canons；　steamboats；　newspapers；　and　maps　wrapped　up　in

seaweed　at　the　bottom　of　what　is　now　our　ocean。



＇*＇　I　do　not；　on　principle；　like　foot…notes；　and　this　is　the　first　I

have　ever　allowed　myself。　Its　historical　interest　must　be　my

excuse；　it　will　prove；　moreover；　that　descriptions　of　battles

should　be　something　more　than　the　dry　particulars　of　technical

writers；　who　for　the　last　three　thousand　years　have　told　us　about

left　and　right　wings　and　centres　being　broken　or　driven　in；　but

never　a　word　about　the　soldier　himself；　his　sufferings；　and　his

heroism。　The　conscientious　care　with　which　I　prepared　myself　to

write　the　〃Scenes　from　Military　Life；〃　led　me　to　many　a　battle…

field　once　wet　with　the　blood　of　France　and　her　enemies。　Among

them　I　went　to　Wagram。　When　I　reached　the　shores　of　the　Danube；

opposite　Lobau；　I　noticed　on　the　bank；　which　is　covered　with　turf；

certain　undulations　that　reminded　me　of　the　furrows　in　a　field　of

lucern。　I　asked　the　reason　of　it；　thinking　I　should　hear　of　some

new　method　of　agriculture：　〃There　sleep　the　cavalry　of　the

imperial　guard；〃　said　the　peasant　who　served　us　as　a　guide；　〃those

are　their　graves　you　see　there。〃　The　words　made　me　shudder。　Prince

Frederic　Schwartzenburg；　who　translated　them；　added　that　the　man

had　himself　driven　one　of　the　wagons　laden　with　cuirasses。　By　one

of　the　strange　chances　of　war　our　guide　had　served　a　breakfast　to

Napoleon　on　the　morning　of　the　battle　of　Wagram。　Though　poor；　he

had　kept　the　double　napoleon　which　the　Emperor　gave　him　for　his

milk　and　his　eggs。　The　curate　of　Gross…Aspern　took　us　to　the

famous　cemetery　where　French　and　Austrians　struggled　together

knee…deep　in　blood；　with　a　courage　and　obstinacy　glorious　to　each。

There；　while　explaining　that　a　marble　tablet　（to　which　our

attention　had　been　attracted；　and　on　which　were　inscribed　the

names　of　the　owner　of　Gross…Aspern；　who　had　been　killed　on　the

third　day）　was　the　sole　compensation　ever　given　to　the　family；　he

said；　in　a　tone　of　deep　sadness：　〃It　was　a　time　of　great　misery；

and　of　great　hopes；　but　now　are　the　days　of　forgetfulness。〃　The

saying　seemed　to　me　sublime　in　its　simplicity；　but　when　I　came　to

reflect　upon　the　matter；　I　felt　there　was　some　justification　for

the　apparent　ingratitude　of　the　House　of　Austria。　Neither　nations

nor　kings　are　wealthy　enough　to　reward　all　the　devotions　to　which

these　tragic　struggles　give　rise。　Let　those　who　serve　a　cause　with

a　secret　expectation　of　recompense；　set　a　price　upon　their　blood

and　become　mercenaries。　Those　who　wield　either　sword　or　pen　for

their　country's　good　ought　to　think　of　nothing　but　of　DOING　THEIR

BEST；　as　our　fathers　used　to　say；　and　expect　nothing；　not　even

glory；　except　as　a　happy　accident。



It