For these three days past I have attempted every evening successively to write to you; but found myself, through the fatigue of the day, too sleepy to effect my purpose at night, and in the morning I am again called upon early to my employment. A pleasing tranquillity, more intoxicating than wine, takes possession of my senses; and I cannot without regret bear a moment’s avocation from the new and agreeable amusements I find here.
I cannot indeed conceive that any place would be disagreeable to me in such company; but do you know why Clarens in itself is agreeable? it is that here I find myself actually in the country, which I could hardly ever say before. The inhabitants of cities know not how to enjoy the country; they know not what it is to be there; and, even when they are there, know not what to do with themselves. They are ignorant of all rustic business and amusements; they despise them; they seem at home as if they were in a foreign country, and I am not at all surprized that they are displeased with it. Among the country people, we should live as they do, or not associate with them at all.
The Parisians, who imagine they go into the country, mistake the thing; they carry Paris along with them. They are attended with their singers, their wits, their authors, and their parasites. Cards, music, and plays, engross all their attention; their tables are spread in the same manner as at Paris; they sit down to their meals at the same hours; are served with the same dishes, and in the same pomp: in a word, they do just the same things in the country as they did in town, where, for that reason, it had been better they had stayed; for, however opulent they are, or careful to omit nothing they are accustomed to, they always find something wanting, and perceive the impossibility of carrying Paris altogether along with them. Thus, that variety they are so fond of eludes their search; they are acquainted only with one manner of living, and are therefore a continual burthen to themselves. To me every rural employment affords something agreeable; nor is there any so painful and laborious as to excite our compassion for the labourer. As the object of both public and private utility, husbandry is peculiarly interesting; and, as it was the first employment of man in his state of innocence, it fills the mind with the most pleasing sensations, and affects us with the agreeable ideas of the golden age. The imagination cannot help being warmed by the prospects of seedtime and harvest: If we look around us, and see the fields covered with hay makers, and with flocks of sheep scattered at a distance, one is sensibly affected with a pleasure arising one knows not how. The voice of nature thus sometimes softens our savage hearts, and, though its dictates are too often fruitless, it is so agreeable that we never hear it without pleasure.
I must confess, that the misery which appears on the face of some countries, where the taxes devour the produce of the earth, the eager avarice of a greedy collector, the inflexible rigour of an inhuman master, take away much of the beauty of the prospect. To see the poor jaded cattle ready to expire under the whip; to see the unhappy peasants themselves emaciated with fasting, clothed in rags, groaning with fatigue, and hardly secured from the inclemencies of the weather by their wretched huts; these are deplorable sights, and it makes one almost blush to be a man when one thinks how the very vitals of such poor objects are drained to satisfy their cruel masters. But what pleasure is it, on the other hand, to see the prudent and humane proprietors, in milder governments, make the cultivation of their lands the instrument of their benevolence, their recreation, their pleasures! to see them with open hands distribute the bounties of providence! to see their servants, their cattle, and every creature about them, fatten on the abundance that flows from their barns, their cellars and granaries! to see them surrounded with peace and plenty, and make, of the employment that enriches them, a continual entertainment! How is it possible for one to be inattentive to the agreeable illusions which such objects present? we forget the age we live in, and the vices of our cotemporaries, and are transported in imagination to the time of the patriarchs; we are desirous to set one’s own hands to work; to join in the rustic employment, and partake of the happiness annexed to it. Oh! how delightful were the days of love and innocence, when the women were affectionate and modest, the men simple and content! such were the days when a lover did not regret fourteen years of servitude to obtain his mistress. Fair daughter of Laban! keeper of thy father’s flocks, how amiable must thou have been! how irresistible thy charms! No, never doth beauty exert its power so much as when in the midst of rural scenes and rustic simplicity. Here is the real seat of its empire; here she sits on her throne, surrounded by the graces; adorned by whose lands, she captivates all beholders. Excuse this rhapsody, my lord; I return now to my subject.
For this month past the autumnal heats have been preparing a favourable vintage, which the first has already induced us to begin; the parched leaves falling off the vines, and exposing to view the clustered grapes, whose juicy ripeness invites the hands of the gatherers. Vines loaded with this salutary fruit, which heaven bestows on the unfortunate as a cure for all their woes; the sound of the casks, tubs, and tons, which they are hooping anew on every side, the songs of the gatherers with which the vintage re-echoes; the continual trotting backwards and forwards of those who carry the grapes to the press, the harsh sound of the rustic instruments that animate the people to work; the agreeable and affecting picture of a general good humour, which seems to be extended at that time over the face of the whole earth; add to these the fog, which the sun exhales in a morning and draws up like the curtain of theatre, to display so delightful a scene; all conspire to give it the air of an entertainment; and that an entertainment which is the more pleasing on reflection, that it is the only one in which mankind have art enough to join utility with delight.
Mr. Wolmar, who has one of the best vineyards in the country, has made all the necessary preparations for his vintage. His backs, his winepress, his cellar, his casks, are all ready for that delicious liquor for which they are designed. Mrs. Wolmar herself takes charge of the crop; the choice of the labourers, and the order and distribution of the several parts of the work falling to her share. Mrs. Orbe takes care of all entertainments, and of the payment of the day-labourers agreeable to the police established here; the laws of which are never infringed or broken. As to my part, I am set to inspect the press and enforce the directions of Eloisa, who cannot bear the steam of the backs; and Clara did not fail to recommend me to this employ, as it was so well adapted to a toper. Thus every one having an allotted task, we are all up early in the morning, and are assembled to go to the vineyard. Mrs. Orbe, who never thinks herself sufficiently employed, undertaking further to observe and rate those that are idle; in doing which I can safely say, with respect to me at least, that she acquits herself with a malicious assiduity. As to the old baron, while we are all employed, he walks out with his gun, and comes, every now and then, to take me from my work, to go with him a thrush-shooting; and I am taxed by my companions with being secretly engaged to him. So that by degrees I lose my old name of philosopher and get that of an idler; appellations which in reality are not so very different. You see, by what I have told you of the baron, that we are quite reconciled, and that Wolmar has reason to be content with his second experiment. Shall I hate the father of my friend? no, were I his son, I could not respect him more than I do. In fact, I know not any man more sincere, more open, more generous, or more honourable in every respect than this old gentleman. But the extravagance of his notions and prejudices is odd enough. Since he is certain I cannot be united to his family, he is extremely civil; and, provided I be not his son-in-law, he will readily give up every thing, and allow me a superiority to himself. The only thing I cannot forgive him, is, that when we are alone, he will some time rally the pretended philosopher on his former lectures. His pleasantry on this head hurts me, and I am always vexed at it; but he turns my resentment into ridicule, and says, Come along, let us go bring down a thrush or two; we have carried this argument far enough. And then he calls out, as we go out of doors; here, Clara, Clara! provide a good supper for your master; I am going to get him an appetite. Notwithstanding his age, also, I can assure you, he brushes among the vines with his gun, with as much activity as myself, and is incomparably a better marksman. I have some satisfaction, however, in that he dares not drop a word before his daughter; the little scholar prescribing no less to her father than to her preceptor. But to return to our vintage.
It is now a week since we have been employed in this agreeable occupation, yet we have hardly done half our work. Besides the wines intended for sale and for common use, which are only simply tho’ carefully made, our benevolent fairy makes others of a more exquisite flavour for us drinkers; I myself assisting in the magical operations.
We make wines of all countries from the grapes of one vineyard: to make one sort, she orders the stalks of the bunches to be twisted when the grape is ripe, and lets them dry by the heat of the sun upon the stock; for another, she has the grapes picked and stoned before they are put into the press; Again, for a third sort, she has the red grapes gathered before sunrising, and carefully conveyed to the press, fresh with their bloom and covered with the morning dew, to make white wine. She makes a sweet wine, by putting into the casks must, reduced to a syrup by evaporation; a dry wine, by checking its fermentation; a bitter cordial by steeping wormwood; and a muscadel wine, with the help of simples. All those different wines have their peculiar methods of preparation; every one of which is simple and wholesome. And thus an industrious economy makes up for a diversity of soils, and unites twenty climates in one. You cannot conceive with what assiduity, with what alacrity, all our business is done. We sing and laugh all day long, without the least interruption to our work. We live altogether in the greatest familiarity; are all treated on a footing, and yet no one forgets himself. The ladies put on none of their airs, the countrywomen are decent, the men droll, but never rude. Those are the most caressed who sing the best songs, tell the best stories, or hit off the best joke. Our good understanding even gives rise to pleasant bickerings between us, and our mutual raillery is exerted only to shew how far we can bear with good temper each others severity. There is no returning home to play the gentle folks; we stay all the day long in the vineyard; Eloisa having caused a lodge to be built there, whither we retreat to warm ourselves when cold, or to shelter us from the rain. We dine with the peasants, and at their hour, as well as work with them. We eat their soup, a little coarse indeed, but very good, and seasoned with excellent herbs. We laugh not at their downright behaviour and rustic compliments; but, in order to free them from constraint, give into their own ways without affectation. This complacence on our side, also, is not lost upon them; they are sensible of it; and, seeing that we are so ready to go out of our way for them, are more willing to go on in their own for us. At dinner the children are brought from the house, and pass the rest of the day in the vineyard. How rejoiced are the peasants to see them! then, taking them up in their sturdy arms, they bless them, and wish heaven may prolong their days to resemble their parents, and make them in like manner a blessing to their country. When I think that the most of these men have born arms, and understand the use of the sword and musket, as well as the management of the hoe and pruning-knife, in seeing Eloisa so loved and respected by them, and herself and children received with such affecting acclamations, I cannot help calling to mind the virtuous and illustrious Agrippina, shewing her son to the troops of Germanicus. Incomparable Eloisa! who exercises in the simplicity of private life, the despotic power of wisdom and beneficence; your person a dear and sacred trust deposited in the hands of your country-men, every one of whom would defend and protect you at the hazard of his own life; it is yours to live more securely, more honourably, in the midst of a whole people who love you, than monarchs surrounded with guards.
In the evening, we all return home chearfully together; the workpeople being lodged and boarded with us all the time of the vintage; and even on Sundays after the evening service, we assemble and dance together till supper time. On the other days of the week, also, we remain altogether, after we are returned home, except the baron, who, eating no suppers, goes to bed early, and Eloisa, who with her children stays with him till his bedtime. Thus, from the time we take upon ourselves the business of the vintage till we quit it, we never once mix the city and country life together. These Saturnalia are much more agreeable and discreet than those of the Romans. The constraint they affected was too preposterous to improve either the master or the slave; but the peaceful equality which prevails here, re-establishes the order of nature, is productive of instruction to some, of consolation to others, and of a friendly connection between all. Our assembly room is an old hall with a great chimney and a good fire in it. On the mantlepiece are lighted up three lamps, made by Mr. Wolmar’s orders, of tin, just to catch the smoke and reflect the light. To prevent giving rise to envy, every thing is carefully avoided that might in the eyes of these poor people, appear more costly than what they meet with at home; no other mark of opulence being displayed than the choice of the best of common things, and a little more profusion in their distribution. Supper is served upon two long tables; where the pomp and luxury of entertainments is amply supplied by good humour and plenty. Every one sits down to table, master, labourers, and servants; every one without distinction gets up to help himself, without exception or preference; the whole repast ending in gratitude and festivity. All drink at their discretion, subject to no other rules than those of decency and sobriety. The presence of superiors, whom they so truly respect, keeps the workpeople within bounds; yet lays no restraint on their ease and chearfulness. And should any one happen to forget himself and give offence, the company is not disturbed by reprimands, the offender being dismissed the next day, without farther notice.
Thus, do I take advantage of the pleasures of the country and the season. I resume the freedom of living after the manner of the country, and to drink pure wine pretty often; but I drink none that is not poured out by the hands of one or other of the two cousins; who take upon them to measure my thirst by the strength of my head, and to manage my reason as they think proper; nor does any one know better how to manage it, or has like them the art to give or take it away from me at pleasure. When the fatigue of the day, or the length and festivity of the repast, add to the strength of the liquor, I indulge myself without restraint in the sallies it inspires. They are no longer such as I need suppress, even in the presence of the sagacious Wolmar. I am no longer afraid his penetrating eye should see into the bottom of my heart; and, when a tender idea arises in my memory, one look from Clara dissipates it; one look of Eloisa makes me blush for my weakness.
After supper, we sit up an hour or two to peel hemp; every one singing a song in turn. Sometimes the women sing all together, or one sings alone, and the rest join in chorus to the burthen of the song. Most of their songs are old tales, set to no very agreeable tunes. There is, not withstanding something antique and affecting, which on the whole is very pleasing. The words are generally very simple, unaffected, and often very sorrowful: they are, nevertheless, diverting. Clara cannot forbear smiling, Eloisa blushing, and myself from giving a sigh, when the same turns and expressions are repeated in these songs, which have heretofore been made use of between us. On those occasions, as I look upon them, the remembrance of times past rushes upon my mind: I am seized with a trembling, an insupportable burthen oppresses my heart, and leaves so deep an impression of sorrow that I can hardly shake it off. I find, nevertheless, in these evenings a sort of pleasure which I cannot describe, and which is nevertheless very great.
The union of people of different conditions, the simplicity of their occupation, the idea of ease, concord and tranquillity, the peaceful sensation it awakes in the soul; these altogether have something affecting that disposes every one to make choice of the most interesting songs. The concert of female voices is also not without its charms. For my part, I am convinced, that of all kinds of harmony there is none so agreeable as singing in unison; and that we only require a variety of concords, because our taste is depraved. Does not harmony in fact exist in every single note? What then can we add to it, without changing the proportions which nature has established in the relation of harmonious sounds.
Nature has done every thing in the best manner, but we would do better, and so spoil all.
There is as great an emulation among us about the work of the evening, as about that of the day; and a piece of roguery I was guilty of yesterday, brought me into a little disgrace. As I am not the most expert at hemp-peeling, and am sometimes absent in thought, I begun to be tired with always being pointed at for doing the least work. I shovelled the stalks with my feet therefore from my next neighbours, to enlarge my own heap; but that inexorable Mrs. Orbe, perceiving it; made a sign to Eloisa, who, detecting me in the fact, reprimanded me severely. Come, come, says she, aloud, I’ll have no injustice done here, though in jest; it is thus, people accustom themselves to cheating, and prove rogues in good earnest, and then, what is worse, make a jest of it.
In this manner we pass our evenings. When it is near bedtime, Mrs. Wolmar stands up, and says, Come, now let us to our fireworks. On which, every one takes up his bundle of hemp-stalks, the honourable proofs of his labour, which are carried in triumph into the middle of the courtyard, and there laid as trophies in a heap, and set on fire. Everyone, however, has not indiscriminately this honour; but those to whom Eloisa adjudges it, by giving the torch to him or her, who has done most work that evening; and when this happens to be herself, she does it with her own hands, without more to do. This ceremony is accompanied with acclamations and clapping of hands. The stalks soon burn up in a blaze, which ascends to the clouds; a real bonfire, about which we laugh and sing, till it is out. After this, the whole company are served with liquor, and every one drinks to the health of the conqueror, and goes to bed, content with a day past in labour, chearfulness and innocence, which he would willingly begin again the next day, the next after that, and every day, to the last of his life.
