Complete Works of Emile Zola (1624 page)

“
Is Nanet always giving you trouble?” he asked Sœurette. “That child is a little devil.”

She smiled, and made a gesture that indicated an excuse for him.

“Yes,” she said, “he is not always well behaved; but we have others who are much more unruly. They push one another, they fight, and they won’t obey. But all the same they are pretty good boys. Nanet is an interesting urchin, very brave and very loving.... Besides, when they are all too quiet we get anxious, and fancy that they must be ill.”

After the class-rooms came the apprentice shops, on the other side of the garden. Lectures had been given therein on the various handicrafts, and the children were instructed in the latter, less to make them expert than to give them general ideas on the subject, and to determine their vocation. These classes were carried on in connection with the courses of studies. After the children had acquired the first notions about reading and writing, tools were put into their hands, and if in the morning a child had diligently studied his grammar, arithmetic, and history, matters belonging to his intellect, he was in the afternoon employed in what gave skill and vigor to his muscles. It was like a useful recreation, a rest for the brain, a joyous interchange of activity. The principle had been adopted that every man ought to know some kind of handicraft, so that every pupil, when he left the schools, had only to select whatever trade he preferred, and perfect himself therein in a workshop. Nor was the beautiful neglected. The children took courses in music, drawing, painting, and sculpture, in which, in some souls, were born the joys of existence. Even those who never got beyond the first elements of education felt the world enlarged; the whole earth had a real interest for them; the most humble lives were brightened by a new radiance.’ In the garden, at the close of a fine day, when the sun was setting in splendor, the children would be called together, and made to sing verses about peace and glory. They were trained to rejoice in spectacles of immortal truth and immortal beauty.

Luc was ending his daily visit to the schools when some one came running to tell him that two peasants from Combettes, Lenfant and Yvonnot, wanted to see him. They had been shown into the little office which opened on the great hall.

“Have they come about that matter of the brook?” asked Sœurette.

“Yes,” answered he.
“
They are the two men who asked me for an interview. But I wish to see them more than they do me, for I was talking the other day with Feuillat, and am convinced that an understanding must be reached between La Crêcherie and Combettes, if we hope to conquer.”

She listened smilingly to what he said, for she knew perfectly all his plans as founder of a town, and after she had shaken hands with him she turned back with her quiet step to her white cradles, whence would proceed the future people needed to materialize her dream.

Feuillat, the farmer of Guerdache, had renewed his lease with Boisgelin under conditions that were disastrous to both parties. It was necessary to live, he said, and the farming system had become so defective that it was impossible for it to give good results any longer.

The soil was thoroughly impoverished. So Feuillat secretly, like an obstinate man haunted by an idea that he communicated to no one, continued to promote experimental work that he would have liked to have seen tried on his farm, and also to promote the reconciliation of the peasants of Combettes, estranged by ancient hatreds, also the union of their parcels of land, divided to infinity, and the creation of one vast domain whence might be derived great wealth. And his idea must have been that if the experiment proved a success he would try to persuade Boisgelin to allow his farm to enter the new association. If he refused, things would end by his being forced to do so. Moreover, in this taciturn Feuillat, bowed under inevitable servitude, there was something of a wily and patient apostle, resolved never to give up, but to win step by step. His first success had just been to make peace between Lenfant and Yvonnot, whose families had been quarrelling for centuries. The first having been chosen as mayor by the commune, and the second as his deputy, he had given them to understand that they were both masters whenever they agreed to act together.

Then he had slowly led them to his idea of a general good understanding which would enable the commune to get out of the disastrous rut in which it was struggling, and find in the land a source of inexhaustible wealth. Just at that time La Crêcherie was founded, and he gave it as an example, and told of its increasing prosperity. He had even succeeded in putting Lenfant and Yvonnot in communication with Luc, by taking advantage of a question of water to be regulated between Combettes and La Crêcherie. That was why the mayor and his deputy were at the works that morning.

Luc at once granted them what they came to ask, with a cordiality which conquered their habitual mistrust.

“It is understood, gentlemen, that La Crêcherie will hereafter lay pipes for all the spring water that it has impounded, and will empty all that it does not use into the Saint Jean brook, which runs across your commune before it joins the Mionne. With very little expense, you can build reservoirs, and have every facility for irrigation, and thus triple the value of your land.”

Lenfant, short and stout, shook his big head with an air of slow reflection, and said:

“But that will cost too much money.”

Yvonnot, who was small and slender, cried:

“But, monsieur, what troubles us is that the division of that water is going to be another reason for our fighting. No doubt you are a good neighbor to give it us, and we heartily thank you. But how shall we manage to let every one have his just share without his believing that the rest are robbing him?”

Luc smiled. He was glad to hear the question, because it would allow him to touch upon a subject of which his heart was full, and which made him glad to see them.

“But the water which makes things grow,” he said, “ought to belong to everybody, like the sun, which gives us all warmth and light, like the soil itself, which brings forth and gives us food. The best way of dividing is not to divide at all, but to leave what nature gives us common to everybody.”

The two peasants understood, and remained silent for a moment, with their eyes upon the floor. Lenfant, the more thoughtful of the two, was the first to speak.

“Yes — yes, we know; the farmer at Guerdache has talked to us about that.... No doubt it is a good idea for all of us to agree, as you have done here, and to hold money, land, labor, and tools in common, and then divide the profits afterwards.... It seems certain that we should each get more, and be better off than we are now.... But all the same we should have to run risks, and I think we should have to talk it over a long time before we could convince the people at Combettes.”

“Ah! of course we should,” said Yvonnot, with an abrupt gesture. “We two, you understand, are nearly of one accord, and are not much opposed to novelties.... But we shall have to bring over the others, and that will be hard work, I warn you.”

This was the mistrust of the peasants for any kind of social change that might possibly interfere with the ownership of property. This Luc knew well. He was expecting it, and continued to smile. For the peasant to give up the parcel of land so dear to him, and which had come down by descent from father to son, and to drown it, as it were, in the parcels of others — what a sacrifice! But the cruel sorrows, increasing day by day, and the exhaustion of the too much divided land, threw farmers into despair and disgust, and must have tended to convince them that there was no salvation possible, except in union, and in the agreement of an entire commune capable of creating a vast domain. Luc spoke, and proved to them that in future all success would be in association; that they must operate upon wide fields with powerful machines in order to plough them, scatter seed, and reap their harvests; they must have abundant fertilizers, chemically prepared in neighboring factories, and they must have constant irrigation, which would increase their profits tenfold. Though hitherto the hard labor of one peasant resulted only in famine, great riches would be the result if all the peasants in a village would agree to unite in cultivating the land on a large scale, and to have machines, fertilizers, and water in common. Then they would be able to recuperate the soil, which might be made marvellously fertile if it were cleared of stones, manured, and watered. It might even be eventually heated so there would be no more seasons. Two acres would suffice to feed two or three families. Already on land cultivated under this system the soil had produced miracles — an uninterrupted succession of vegetables and fruits. The population of France might be multiplied threefold; the soil would nourish it abundantly if it were systematically cultivated, in the harmony of all the creative forces. And then there would be happiness for all, three times less hard labor, the peasant would be finally freed from his ancient servitude, and delivered from the money-lender who preyed upon him, as well as set free from the fear of being crushed by large landed proprietors and by the state.

“That is too good to be possible,” said Lenfant, with his air of reflection.

But Yvonnot became excited more quickly.

“Ah! — bless me! — if that were only so, what fools we should be not to try the thing!”

“Just see what we ourselves are doing at La Crêcherie,” said Luc, who had been holding this argument in reserve as an example. “We have been scarcely three years in operation, and our business has prospered; all our workmen who have joined our association have meat to eat, wine to drink, and are no longer in debt, nor in dread of want in the future. Ask them, and come and look over what we are doing; see our works, our houses, our Communal House, all we have built and created in so short a time.... It is all done by our union. You could accomplish wonderful things if you followed our example.”

“Yes — yes; we have seen; we know,” responded the two peasants.

And that was true. They had visited La Crêcherie with curiosity before they asked for Luc. They had made no remarks on the prosperity they had observed, but were astonished at what they had seen of the happy town, which was growing so rapidly, and they asked themselves whether it might not be a good thing for them to enter into a similar association. The force of experience had made its way into them, and was subduing their opposition by degrees.

“
Well, then, since you know all about it, the thing is very simple,” said Luc, cheerfully. “We want bread; our workpeople cannot live if you do not grow grain to make it for them. You, on your part, want tools, spades, ploughs, and all kinds of things made of steel and iron, such as we can furnish you. The solution of the problem is easy enough; we have only to come to an understanding. We will give you steel, you shall give us breadstuffs, and so we will work together, and live happily hereafter. Since we are near neighbors, and your land lies close to our works, and we naturally need each other, is it not best that we should live like brothers, and combine for each others’ good, as if we were one family?”

His cordiality had its effect on Lenfant and on Yvonnot. Never had a reconciliation between peasant and manufacturer been brought about so satisfactorily. Ever since La Crêcherie had been at work, and been going on rapidly, Luc had nourished a secret wish to combine all the smaller factories in his association — all the various little industries which depended on his workshops and had grown up around them. La Crêcherie was a centre, producing raw material — that is, steel — which was needed in a whole multitude of manufactures. Chodorge’s factory made nails, and Miranda’s made agricultural machinery; there was even a man named Hordoir, an old forgeman, who had two hammers still in operation, worked by a torrent in a gorge of the Monts Bleuses. All these would be forced some day, if they desired to live, to join their brethren in La Crêcherie, without which they could not exist. Even masons and bricklayers, garment-makers, and the shoemakers employed by Mayor Gourier would, in the end, be absorbed, and come to an understanding with La Crêcherie, and would give houses and coats and shoes in exchange for tools and breadstuff. The future city could be realized only by this universal association, this communion of labor.

“Well, then, Monsieur Luc,” said Lenfant, very wisely, “these things are too big to be decided all at once. But we promise you we will think them over, and do all we can to induce Combettes to come to a good understanding, such as you have here.”

“Yes, that’s it, Monsieur Luc,” added Yvonnot. “Since we have gone so far as to become reconciled — Lenfant and I — we may as well make it our business to get others to become friends, as we have done, and Feuillat, who is a smart chap, will help us.”

As they were leaving they again alluded to the water that Luc promised to empty into the Grand Jean. All was settled. They fancied that they should be much assisted in the plan for association by this matter of fresh water, which would oblige all the inhabitants of the commune to have one interest and one will.

Luc, who went with them, took them through the garden, where their children, Arsène and Olympe, Eugenie and Nicolas, were waiting for them. Their fathers had brought them that they might see La Crêcherie, which all the country was talking about. It so happened that all the scholars of the five classes had just come forth for recreation, and filled the garden with noise and joyous merriment. The little girls’ skirts were blown about by the fresh air in the sunshine, the boys leaped about like kids; there was laughter, shouting, and singing, all the noise, indeed, that happy children love to make in the midst of soft turf and green foliage.

But Luc observed that Sœurette was not pleased; she was even scolding. She was standing in the midst of a group of dark and fair heads. Foremost stood Nanet, who had grown, being now almost ten years old, with his round, bold, happy face and his fleece of tousled hair, the color of ripe barley. Behind him were grouped the four Bonnaires, Lucien, Antoinette, Zoé, and Severin, and the two Bourron children, Sébastien and Marthe, all of them, no doubt, in disgrace, from the youngest, who was about five, to the older ones, who were nearly ten. It seemed as if Nanet had been foremost among them in some mischief, since he answered and argued, like a little urchin not easily put down, and insisted that he had done nothing wrong.