Maria Chapdelaine: A Tale of the Lake St. John Country

by Louis Hémon

  CHAPTER IV

  WILD LAND

  AFTER a few chilly days, June suddenly brought veritable springweather. A blazing sun warmed field and forest, the lingeringpatches of snow vanished even in the deep shade of the woods; thePeribonka rose and rose between its rocky banks until the alders andthe roots of the nearer spruces were drowned; in the roads the mudwas incredibly deep. The Canadian soil rid itself of the last tracesof winter with a semblance of mad haste, as though in dread ofanother winter already on the way.

  Esdras and Da'Be returned from the shanties where they had workedall the winter. Esdras was the eldest of the family, a tall fellowwith a huge frame, his face bronzed, his hair black; the lowforehead and prominent chin gave him a Neronian profile,domineering, not without a suggestion of brutality; but he spokesoftly, measuring his words, and was endlessly patient. In facealone had he anything of the tyrant; it was as though the longrigours of the climate and the fine sense and good humour of therace had refined his heart to a simplicity and kindliness that hisformidable aspect seemed to deny.

  Da'Be, also tall, was less heavily built and more lively and merry.He was like his father.

  The married couple had given their first children, Esdras and Maria,fine, high-sounding, sonorous names; but they had apparently weariedof these solemnities, for the next two children never heard theirreal names pronounced; always had they been called by theaffectionate diminutives of childhood, Da'Be and Tit'B?. With thelast pair, however, there had been a return to the earlierceremonious manner-Telesphore ... Alma Rose. "When the boys getback we are going to make land," the father had promised. And, withthe help of Edwige Legare, their hired man, they set about the task.

  In the Province of Quebec there is much uncertainty in the spellingand the use of names. A scattered people in a huge half-wildcountry, unlettered for the most part and with no one to turn to forcounsel but the priests, is apt to pay attention only to the soundof names, caring nothing about their appearance when written or thesex to which they pertain. Pronunciation has naturally varied in onemouth or another, in this family or that, and when a formal occasioncalls for writing, each takes leave to spell his baptismal name inhis own way, without a passing thought that there may be a canonicalform. Borrowings from other languages have added to theuncertainties of orthography and gender. Individuals signindifferently, Denise, Denije or Deneije; Conrad or Courade; menbear such names as Hermenegilde, Aglae, Edwige.

  Edwige Legare had worked for the Chapdelaines these eleven summers.That is to say, for wages of twenty dollars a month he was inharness each day from four in the morning till nine at night at anyand every job that called for doing, bringing to it a sort offrenzied and inexhaustible enthusiasm; for he was one of those menincapable by his nature of working save at the full pitch ofstrength and energy, in a series of berserk rages. Short and broad,his eyes were the brightest blue--a thing rare in Quebec-at oncepiercing and guileless, set in a visage the colour of clay thatalways showed cruel traces of the razor, topped by hair of nearlythe same shade. With a pride in his appearance that was hard tojustify he shaved himself two or three times a week, always in theevening, before the bit of looking-glass that hung over the pump andby the feeble light of the little lamp-driving the steel through hisstiff beard with groans that showed what it cost him in labour andanguish. Clad in shirt and trousers of brownish homespun, wearinghuge dusty boots, he was from head to heel of a piece with the soil,nor was there aught in his face to redeem the impression of rusticuncouthness.

  Chapdelaine, his three sons and man, proceeded then to "make land."The forest still pressed hard upon the buildings they had put up afew years earlier: the little square house, the barn of planks thatgaped apart, the stable built of blackened logs and chinked withrags and earth. Between the scanty fields of their clearing and thedarkly encircling woods lay a broad stretch which the ax had buthalf-heartedly attacked. A few living trees had been cut for timber,and the dead ones, sawn and split, fed the great stove for a wholewinter; but the place was a rough tangle of stumps and interlacingroots, of fallen trees too far rotted to burn, of others dead butstill erect amid the alder scrub.

  Thither the five men made their way one morning and set to work atonce, without a word, for every man's task had been settledbeforehand.

  The father and Da'Be took their stand face to face on either side ofa tree, and their axes, helved with birch, began to swing in rhythm.At first each hewed a deep notch, chopping steadily at the same spotfor some seconds, then the ax rose swiftly and fell obliquely on thetrunk a foot higher up; at every stroke a great chip flew, thick asthe hand, splitting away with the grain. When the cuts were nearlymeeting, one stopped and the other slowed down, leaving his ax inthe wood for a moment at every blow; the mere strip, by some miraclestill holding the tree erect, yielded at last, the trunk began tolean and the two axmen stepped back a pace and watched it fall,shouting at the same instant a warning of the danger.

  It was then the turn of Edwige Legare and Esdras; when the tree wasnot too heavy each took an end, clasping their strong hands beneaththe trunk, and then raised themselves-backs straining, arms crackingunder the stress-and carried it to the nearest heap with shortunsteady steps, getting over the fallen timber with stumblingeffort. When the burden seemed too heavy, Tit'B? came forward leadingCharles Eugene dragging a tug-bar with a strong chain; this waspassed round the trunk and fastened, the horse bent his back, andwith the muscles of his hindquarters standing out, hauled away thetree which scraped along the stumps and crushed the young alders tothe ground.

  At noon Maria came out to the door-step and gave a long call to tellthem that dinner was ready. Slowly they straightened up among thestumps, wiping away with the backs of their hands the drops of sweatthat ran into their eyes, and made their way to the house.

  Already the pea-soup smoked in the plates. The five men setthemselves at table without haste, as if sensation were somewhatdulled by the heavy work; but as they caught their breath a greathunger awoke, and soon they began to eat with keen appetite. The twowomen waited upon them, filling the empty plates, carrying about thegreat dish of pork and boiled potatoes, pouring out the hot tea.When the meat had vanished the diners filled their saucers withmolasses in which they soaked large pieces of bread; hunger wasquickly appeased, because they had eaten fast and without a word,and then plates were pushed back and chairs tilted with sighs ofsatisfaction, while hands were thrust into pockets for their pipes,and the pigs' bladders bulging with tobacco.

  Edwige Legare, seating himself on the door-step, proclaimed two orthree times:--"I have dined well ... I have dined well ...with the air of a judge who renders an impartial decision; afterwhich he leaned against the post and let the smoke of his pipe andthe gaze of his small light-coloured eyes pursue the samepurposeless wanderings. The elder Chapdelaine sank deeper and deeperinto his chair, and ended by falling asleep; the others smoked andchatted about their work.

  "If there is anything," said the mother, "which could reconcile meto living so far away in the woods, it is seeing my men-folk make anice bit of land-a nice bit of land that was all trees and stumpsand roots, which one beholds in a fortnight as bare as the back ofyour hand, ready for the plough; surely nothing in the world can bemore pleasing or better worth doing." The rest gave assent withnods, and were silent for a while, admiring the picture. Soonhowever Chapdelaine awoke, refreshed by his sleep and ready forwork; then all arose and went out together.

  The place where they had worked in the morning was yet full ofstumps and overgrown with alders. They set themselves to cutting anduprooting the alders, gathering a sheaf of branches in the hand andsevering them with the ax, or sometimes digging the earth away aboutthe roots and tearing up the whole bush together. The aldersdisposed of, there remained the stumps.

  Legare and Esdras attacked the smaller ones with no weapons buttheir axes and stout wooden Prizes. They first cut the rootsspreading on the surface, then drove a lever well home, and, chestsagainst the bar, threw all their weight upon it. W
hen their effortscould not break the hundred ties binding the tree to the soil Legarecontinued to bear heavily that he might raise the stump a little,and while he groaned and grunted under the strain Esdras hewed awayfuriously level with the ground, severing one by one the remainingroots.

  A little distance away the other three men handled thestumping-machine with the aid of Charles Eugene. The pyramidalscaffolding was put in place above a large stump and lowered, thechains which were then attached to the root passed over a pulley,and the horse at the other end started away quickly, flinginghimself against the traces and showering earth with his hoofs. Ashort and desperate charge, a mad leap often arrested after a fewfeet as by the stroke of a giant fist; then the heavy steel blades a giantwould swing up anew, gleaming in the sun, and fall with a dull soundupon the stubborn wood, while the horse took breath for a moment,awaiting with excited eye the word that would launch him forwardagain. And afterwards there was still the labour of hauling orrolling the big stumps to the pile-at fresh effort of back, ofsoil-stained hands with swollen veins, and stiffened arms thatseemed grotesquely striving with the heavy trunk and the hugetwisted roots.

  The sun dipped toward the horizon, disappeared; the sky took onsofter hues above the forest's dark edge, and the hour of supperbrought to the house five men of the colour of the soil.

  While waiting Upon them Madame Chapdelaine asked a hundred questionsabout the day's work, and when the vision arose before her of thispatch of land they had cleared, superbly bare, lying ready for thePlough, her spirit was possessed with something of a mystic'srapture.

  With hands upon her hips, refusing to seat herself at table, sheextolled the beauty Of the world as it existed for her: not thebeauty wherein human beings have no hand, which the townsman makessuch an ado about with his unreal ecstasies.-mountains, lofty andbare, wild seas-but the quiet unaffected loveliness of the levelchampaign, finding its charm in the regularity of the long furrowand the sweetly-flowing stream--the naked champaign courting withwilling abandon the fervent embraces of the sun.

  She sang the great deeds of the four Chapdelaines and Edwige Legare,their struggle against the savagery of nature, their triumph of theday. She awarded praises and displayed her own proper pride, albeitthe five men smoked their wooden or clay pipes in silence,motionless as images after their long task; images of earthy hue,hollow-eyed with fatigue.

  "The stumps are hard to get out." at length said the elderChapdelaine, "the roots have not rotted in the earth so much as Ishould have imagined. I calculate that we shall not be through forthree weeks." He glanced questioningly at Legare who gravelyconfirmed him.

  "Three weeks ... Yes, confound it! That is what I think too."

  They fell silent again, patient and determined, like men who face along war.

  The Canadian spring had but known a few weeks of life when, bycalendar, the summer was already come; it seemed as if the localweather god had incontinently pushed the season forward with augustfinger to bring it again into accord with more favoured lands to thesouth. For torrid heat fell suddenly upon them, heat well-nigh asunmeasured as was the winter's cold. The tops of the spruces andcypresses, forgotten by the wind, were utterly still, and above thefrowning outline stretched a sky bare of cloud which likewise seemedfixed and motionless. From dawn till nightfall a merciless suncalcined the ground.

  The five men worked on unceasingly, while from day to day theclearing extended its borders by a little; deep wounds in theuncovered soil showed the richness of it.

  Maria went forth one morning to carry them water. The father andTit'B? were cutting alders, Da'Be and Esdras piled the cut trees.Edwige Legare was attacking a stump by himself; a hand against thetrunk, he had grasped a root with the other as one seizes the leg ofsome gigantic adversary in a struggle, and he was fighting thecombined forces of wood and earth like a man furious at theresistance of an enemy. Suddenly the stump yielded and lay upon theground; he passed a hand over his forehead and sat down upon a root,running with sweat, overcome by the exertion. When Maria came nearhim with her pail half full of water, the others having drunk, hewas still seated, breathing deeply and saying in a bewilderedway:--"I am done for ... Ah! I am done for." But he pulled himselftogether on seeing her, and roared out--"Cold water! Perdition! Giveme cold water."

  Seizing the bucket he drank half its contents and poured the restover his head and neck; still dripping, he threw himself afresh uponthe vanquished stump and began to roll it toward a pile as onecarries off a prize.

  Maria stayed for a few moments looking at the work of the men andthe progress they had made, each day more evident, then hied herback to the house swinging the empty bucket, happy to feel herselfalive and well under the bright sun, dreaming of all the joys thatwere to be hers, nor could be long delayed if only she were earnestand patient enough in her prayers. Even at a distance the voices ofthe men came to her across the surface of the ground baked by theheat; Esdras, his hands beneath a young jack pine, was saying in hisquiet tones:--"Gently ... together now!"

  Legare was wrestling with some new inert foe, and swearing in hishalf-stifled way:--"Perdition! I'll make you stir, so I will." Hisgasps were nearly as audible as the words. Taking breath for asecond he rushed once more into the fray, arms straining, wrenchingwith his great back. And yet again his voice was raised in oaths andlamentations:-"I tell you that I'll have you ... Oh you rascal!Isn't it hot? . . I'm pretty nearly finished ..." His complaintsripened into one mighty cry:--"Boss! We are going to killourselves making land."

  Old Chapdelaine's voice was husky but still cheerful as he answered:"Tough! Edwige, tough! The pea-soup will soon be ready."

  And in truth it was not long before Maria, once more on thedoor-step, shaping her hands to carry the sound, sent forth theringing call to dinner.

  Toward evening a breeze arose and a delicious coolness fell upon theearth like a pardon. But the sky remained cloudless.

  "If the fine weather lasts," said mother Chapdelaine, "theblueberries will be ripe for the feast of Ste. Anne."