For all these reasons, life for the typical Limousin girl became a veritable man hunt once she reached marriageable age. With such limited pickings, competition between village girls could be fierce. And no means were considered too outlandish when it came to ensnaring a husband. Mystical legends, magic and ancient traditions were still a very real part of everyday life in the Limousin. Many villages and towns had their own ritual practices which young girls were advised to adopt if they wanted to be sure of finding a husband. In the village of La Villeneuve near Eymoutiers, gaggles of single girls were to be found dancing wildly in the mud at the January fair, and the more soiled their skirts became, the better; they would undoubtedly secure a husband within twelve months. Meanwhile, seamstresses in the town of Ambazac, a short distance from where Madeleine lived, swore by a different technique. Whenever they were commissioned to make a wedding dress, they would stitch a lock of their own hair into the hem of the garment to guarantee that they too would become a wife before the year was out.12 Every community defended the unparalleled efficiency of its own method. But the girls of Bessines had the advantage of a very special tool for performing their ritual, an object few other villages could rival. It took the form of a vast monolithic stone basin, which locals had baptised Pierre Belle.
Nobody could explain how the enormous circular stone of 5m diameter and 80cm depth had arrived on the north bank of the Gartempe river.13 Some believed it was an ancient fountain, others insisted that it was a monument from Druid culture, perhaps some kind of sacrificial stone. It had a curious lean on one side, which one legend attributed to the occasion when six fairies had tried to move it. Only three of them called on the Virgin for assistance, and the other three were crushed under its massive weight as punishment for their impiety. But however conflicting the explanations of Pierre Belle’s origin, its talismanic properties were undisputed. The townsfolk maintained that all a single girl needed to do was to visit the stone on the night of the full moon, hoist herself up onto its rim and run round it seven times. With a rim of little more than 15cm in width, simply staying upright was an achievement worthy of requital. But if a girl took the trouble (and kept her balance), she would be rewarded with a husband within twelve months.
But despite the persistence of these traditions, the Limousins were steadfastly practical people. Where divine intervention failed, rural ingenuity often triumphed.
With marriage paramount and chances to form new acquaintances scarce, every opportunity was taken – or engineered – to propagate meetings and nurture potential relationships. There was the veillée, that timeless rural custom, when family and neighbours would gather together and while away the long winter evenings.14 Huddled around a crackling fire, a whole cross-section of generations could be found laughing, singing, playing cards, passing on traditions and telling stories, tales of ferocious werewolves and gruesome murders and supernatural happenings. The square after Mass was another valuable place to share news and foster connections. With its welcoming heat and constant flow of customers, the blacksmith’s was also a hive of social interaction and a breeding ground for gossip.15 In all instances, family had a key role to play in encouraging auspicious romantic unions. It was in the group’s interest. And when a young man had set his sights on a particular girl, he nervously awaited his first meal with her family; if he arrived to find coq au vin cooking, it was a sure sign that he had been approved.16
Though the father was the undisputed head of the Limousin family, in cases of this figure’s untimely death, his wife would assume this role, and with just as much authority.17 Hence, when Mathieu-Alexandre died, Madeleine’s mother Marie automatically acquired the right to manage the family’s money and estate, oversee the distribution of responsibilities, and crucially for Madeleine, to make decisions concerning the choice of spouse of the younger generation. But even if Marie faltered in her new task, the wider family could be counted on to provide vital support.
The extended family was considered deeply important in rural Limousin society, with several generations often living together under the same roof. It was quite usual to find married couples and their offspring living in the paternal home. Children were used to living with grandparents, and while the average household in the 1830s contained five people, at the upper extreme it was not uncommon to find as many as fifteen people packed into the same house. Even when family did not live together, the bonds were typically ferociously strong. Aunts, uncles, and in particular, godparents, played an important role in the lives of the family’s younger members. This was especially true in cases where a father had died, when a youngster was advised to far sounar soun peiri (or to ‘call one’s godfather close’).18 Madeleine’s grandfather, Martial Dony, was also a dependable presence, there for all his granddaughter’s important rites of passage. In short, Madeleine was not going to be left without the sound guidance of a mentor or a paternal figure in her father’s absence.
So it was that despite the early morning chill and the bleakness of a season made even more melancholy by the still recent loss of her father, the young girl had every reason to feel full of hope and expectation that February morning. It was no ordinary Tuesday; that day, she was to be married to one of the most eligible young men in the village.
Léger Coulaud was a man many a girl would be proud to call her husband. A local lad from a respectable family, he plied one of the most highly prized trades in the town: he was a blacksmith. In an agricultural town like Bessines, lu faure (as he was known in the local dialect), commanded universal respect.19 Not only did he repair the shoes of both horse and rider; he fixed broken machinery, mended farm equipment and could turn his hand to any task where welding was required. It was a valuable skill – a potentially lucrative skill. Without lu faure, the very heart of the town would stop beating.
For Madeleine, that mattered. Urgent though securing a match might have been, her family were not the kind of people to accept any man for their latest marriageable member.
While they were not rich, Mathieu-Alexandre Valadon and Marie Dony were a good, honest couple with estimable ancestral heritage.20 Mathieu-Alexandre’s father was a military man, and his grandfather had enjoyed the honour of being one of the town’s first municipal officers. Marie Dony’s family tree boasted all manner of figures considered ‘notable’ in rural society, such as master masons, millers and notaires.21 Though they were by no means bourgeois, the Valadons came from good stock.
Nor would Madeleine make an undesirable wife. She had high cheekbones, and though she was plain and her face rather angular, and she was hardly the prettiest girl in Bessines, her features were at least even. Furthermore, she could read and write, and being trained as a linen maid, she could boast a skill. Etiquette manuals stipulated that linen maids should be quick, strong, neat and above all, keen to please – attributes which rendered a woman equally appealing as a spouse.22
However, in Léger Coulaud, Madeleine could feel confident that she would be taking a husband whom her family considered worthy. Strength and physical stamina were a professional requisite in Léger’s trade, important considerations when selecting a spouse on whose income a female would come to depend; no right-minded young girl wanted a husband who was incapable of work.23 And besides his profession, Léger too benefited from favourable family connections; the names of two Coulauds appeared on the list of teachers approved by the local council in the 19th century.24 One of them was also called Léger, a name passed down the male line in the Coulaud family, so undoubtedly a relative. To possess even the rudiments of education was considered impressive at the time, particularly in a rural community like Bessines. ‘Public instruction,’ wrote the new sous-préfet or sub-prefect to the mayor in 1816, ‘wisely directed, is the seed of social virtues; the sowing of pure morality, the tie that binds together all citizens, the guarantee of happiness and the glory of nations.’25 Educated men and their associates were looked on with respect. And as if those attributes did not suffice, Léger shared his name with
the town’s patron saint and was born in the nearby hillside commune of Le Mas Barbu, where Madeleine’s family hailed from. Those facts alone surely boded well. What did it matter if the young girl’s fiancé was thirteen years her senior, and the civil ceremony, the legally binding part of the marriage contract, was to be performed on the 13th of the month? Superstition was surely immaterial when set against such auspicious circumstances. Besides, the presence of a white hen throughout the proceedings and a pinch of salt in the pocket, both traditional amulets said to bring marital harmony, would allay the concerns of the most paranoid of wedding guests.26 The match was decided.
Following the Revolution of 1789, marriage had been secularised, and couples were obliged to officialise their union at the mairie as well as having a religious ceremony. Sometimes the two ceremonies took place on the same day, but more usually there was a day or two between them. According to custom, Léger Coulaud and Madeleine Valadon’s banns had been read twice outside the mairie, first on 28 January and then on 4 February at ten in the morning. None of the locals had made any objection, and so on 12 February, a small ceremony had been conducted in the local church. Then at 11 o’clock on 13 February, Madeleine officially became the wife of Léger Coulaud. Two of the couple’s mutual friends stood as witnesses along with one of Madeleine’s cousins, while the bride’s mother and grandfather also signed the register. So did Léger’s father, Léger senior, but his mother, Thérèse Thoumassonet, did not; like so many women in rural society, she could neither read nor write.27
Limousin weddings were big affairs. Once the formalities were complete, a copious meal was traditionally offered to guests in one or other of the family members’ barns, which would be decorated with swathes of white sheet and laurel leaves.28 Normally sparse tables strained under the weight of steaming pot-au-feux, meat pies, veal and mutton casseroles, roast pork and spit roasted poultry. Then came apple tarts, prune tarts and clafoutis (the region’s cherry and batter dessert), and the whole meal was washed down with formidable quantities of wine. Once all the guests had eaten their fill, there would be singing, which would be opened by the maid of honour, before the rest of the diners joined in to congratulate the bride and groom. But under no circumstance were the couple to lend their voices to the throng: that was bad luck. After the singing came dancing, which would often take the form of special regional dances (of which there were several in the Limousin). The bride and groom would take the lead, and it was not unusual for the dances to continue into the small hours of the morning. The physical exertion was sufficient to rekindle waning appetites, so the dancing was invariably followed by more feasting. By the time the revellers were ready to begin the next round of dancing, the bride and groom would be preparing to make their discreet exit. But even if they managed to escape unnoticed, the couple would be subject to all kinds of teasing and pranks, the next day if necessary.29 And they would also be compelled to partake in some more serious rituals, not least walking beneath the requisite loaf of bread, held aloft as they passed through the doorway of the new marital home, while good fortune was invoked on the household with the words ‘Qué jamais vous manca!’ (May bread never be lacking).30
After the deluge of rituals and festivities, it was often a relief for couples to begin their new life together in peace and establish their routines, all the while hoping that the measures taken to ensure happiness and prosperity would prove effective. M. Coulaud and his new wife moved into a property in Bessines and began to settle into married life. With Madeleine continuing to work, as well as having to keep house and make sure that her husband was well fed, there was much to do. But both husband and wife working meant that there was money coming in, and as they began their first year of marriage, fortune seemed to smile on the newlyweds.
Still, however, Madeleine’s happiness was not yet complete. Something was missing. The dearest hope of every young Limousin wife was to provide her husband with a healthy son to continue the family name. As with marriage, there were a number of different methods at a woman’s disposal if she wanted to ensure she became a mother. Bessines had its own sacred fountain named after the town’s patron saint. Drinking its water was said to guarantee that a woman would give birth to an attractive baby and that the labour would be free of complication.31 Whether due to unearthly powers or just good luck, within a year of their wedding, the couple’s joy was complete. By the end of the summer, Madeleine had fallen pregnant and the following April, she gave birth to a baby boy, who was named after his father.
In a society where the best guarantee of autonomy was work, a son was considered the ultimate boon. Baby girls were frequently referred to pejoratively as no charamello (the whiner) or no pissouso (the pisser). The baptism of a girl would be announced with a single bell; for a boy, the joyous peals would go on and on.32
Madeleine could not ignore what a blessing the child was. In impoverished rural areas like the Limousin, the loss of a child was all too common, so common in fact that at the time Madeleine gave birth to her infant, throughout France, parents still did not wear mourning following the death of a child.33 Generalised poverty in the Limousin led to its mothers acquiring a reputation for breastfeeding their babies well beyond the time deemed appropriate by women in other regions – up to twenty months in some cases.34 With children being raised on a diet that became less nutritionally sufficient as they grew, those very early years were fraught with risk. Still, there was no shortage of country wisdom available to an anxious new mother like Madeleine when it came to safeguarding her precious newborn baby. She should not show the child a mirror; that was to summon the devil. On no account should he be allowed to kiss a girl of similar age, for his speech would surely be retarded. And mothers should never cut their babies’ fingernails in the first year unless they wanted the child to become a thief. Only once the child began toddling could a parent start to have a little more confidence in his or her physical stamina.35
To Madeleine’s relief, two years passed without significant problems. The Coulaud family grew more and more used to each other’s company. But a week before Madeleine’s 22nd birthday, her little boy, aged just two and a half, died unexpectedly.
People who knew the family were horrified. For all that infant mortality was common, losing an only son seemed a particularly cruel blow. A glimmer of hope came to lighten an otherwise dark period in the New Year, when Madeleine became pregnant again. The baby was delivered safely in October 1853, but the joy of the second child’s arrival could not match that of the first: it was a baby girl. That meant not the promise of a second male income, but another mouth to feed, then a dowry to find, and it was far more difficult to marry off a daughter than a son. By this time Madeleine was no longer working; the growing family were having to survive on a single income.36
Madeleine had another grievance, too. All was well so long as things worked in Coulaud’s favour, but Madeleine soon learned that when displeased or intoxicated (or both), her husband was inclined to fly into a fearful rage. On one occasion, a violent outburst had resulted in his arrest, and Madeleine was forced to cope alone for two months as Coulaud served a short prison sentence.37 His volatility boded ill. After such an auspicious beginning, the family’s future now looked decidedly bleak.
While the Coulaud family struggled to adapt to their altered circumstances, broader changes were taking place on a national scale. On 2 December 1852, Louis Napoleon made himself emperor, promising to repair the damage left in the wake of the Second Republic by restoring the authoritarian order of the Bonapartist regime. By the 1850s, agriculture had become stagnant in the Limousin and the region’s industry was concentrated in Limoges.38 Disillusioned by the Second Republic, eager for change, the people of the Limousin showed overwhelming support for the new emperor.39 Three days after the coup, the Empire was officially declared in Bessines. The announcement was greeted by enthusiastic calls of ‘Vive l’empereur!’, thunderous applause and sincere hopes for a brighter future.40 Napoleon’s mission to boost
internal prosperity found keen support in the region.41 Few recognised his campaign as an ingenious ploy designed to deflect attention from the staggering loss of liberty. The people of Bessines found it impossible not to be swept up in the heady allure of the new Empire. Indefatigable Republicans made themselves scarce. On 13 February 1853, the municipal council voted on a congratulatory message for his Highness following his recent marriage, and it was agreed that the town should find 45 francs to fund a bust of the emperor.42 As the new Empire started to thrive, religious sentiment withered in the Limousin, and a distinctly materialistic mindset took its place.43
Léger Coulaud was not the only man swayed by the prevailing mood of optimism and possibility. Disguising its structural flaws with a gloss of gaiety and frivolous living, the Empire fostered a climate where self-improvement and prosperity seemed not only desirable but achievable. Coulaud found a kindred spirit in his neighbour Pierre-Louis Planchon, a watchmaker and jeweller.44 The two men established a firm friendship. Madeleine had every reason to feel alarmed. Planchon was a confirmed scoundrel in his business dealings, and had already served a six-month prison sentence in 1845.45 But the Limousin wife had no business telling her husband with whom he could and could not mix. She knew her place.
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