The hunchback raised his glass very high and said with a certain solemnity:
“I drink to Mother Nature, to the fragrant hills, I drink to the cicadas, to the pine woods, to the breeze, to the rocks of thousands of years, I drink to the blue sky!”
Marcel Pagnol was the first film-maker to be elected to L’Academie Francaise . I only started to watch his movies last year, but they made such a strong impression on me that I decided to try to find and read his novels. ‘L’Eau des collines’ started as a movie script by Pagnol, but he decided later on to turn it into a couple of linked novels. I for one am grateful for this decision, because his presentation is as good here as on the silver screen.
Pagnol is not only a natural, gifted storyteller. He is truly passionate about the country where he grew up: the high hills of Southern Provence, near Marseille. He writes with a keen, observant eye about the people and the landscape and about their often rough nature, equally adept at seeing the humorous and the tragic in their struggles.
The place where the novel takes place, a village called ‘Les Bastides Blanches’, modelled on the real ‘La Treille’ in the hills above Marseille, is the real shaper of both the characters and of the plot of the novel. This is because the limestone ‘garigue’, or high plateau, depends on water sources for survivability. It is a blessed place for lovers of nature, but like any other karstic formation it is very dry and porous, with few viable springs for agriculture.
This was the origin of the village. Fifty years earlier, a summer resident from Marseille had left a small bag of gold coins to the community, and this had made it possible to conduct sparkling water from the only spring in this part of the country to the square. It was then that the small farms scattered about the valleys and hillsides had been abandoned one by one, and the families had grouped themselves around the fountain, and the hamlet had become a village.
After watching ‘La fille de puisatier’ and ‘La femme du boulanger’ , the village of the White Bastions is instantly familiar [I read afterwards that Pagnol used ‘La Treille’ in his movies]. I could see it all even before watching the movie source, since Pagnol liked to use the same local actors and the same scenery in every adaptation:
Around the square there were a number of shops: the bar-tabac, the grocer, the baker, the butcher, and then the wide open workshop of the carpenter next door to the blacksmith, and at the end, the church; it was old, but not ancient, and its bell tower was hardly higher than the houses.
After introducing the village and its residents, we get to the ‘meat’ of the story, which is one of mortal rivalries over land and over water rights, with a touch of Montagues and Capulets thrown in, but without a redeeming pair of young lovers, at least not in the beginning.
In one of the books of the great Anatole France, somebody asks a minister, “Why do you fight so often with your neighbors?” The minister, most astonished, replies, “Who do you think we should fight with?”
In general, farmers are suspicious of strangers and fierce in defending their own turf. The Bastidians share in this trait in spades, nurturing their mistrust in their hereditary enemies from the nearby village of Crespin over generations, and considering anybody who crosses the lines a traitor. Such an event happened a generation before the book starts, when Florette, the most beautiful girl in the village, decides to marry a man from Crespin. The marriage fest, intended to mend the long enduring enmity between neighbors, results instead in an epic battle.
“The women were clawing at each other, the men were rolling on the ground. Everybody was shouting, and not a single kick on the but was lost!”
“And the two cures who tried to separate them,” said Anglade, “they would have done better not to get mixed up in it! Ours was laid out by a Crespinois with a great blow on the tonsure with a ham, and theirs received a flying chair, his head passed between the crossbars and he couldn’t get it out.”
Back to present time [1920s] , the son of the girl returns to the village for his inheritance, a piece of land on a hillside that has lain fallow for decades. The Bastinois, in order to avoid confusion about the few family names available, reference the mother’s name instead of the father’s, so Jean Cadoret is known here as Jean de Florette, or should I say unknown?
The reason for Jean’s return to his family plot is also the reason most of the people in Les Bastides will ignore him: namely the machinations of his new neighbours, known as The Papet and Ugolin, the last members of the powerful Soubeyrac clan, who have designs of their own upon the very same piece of land.
The Papet usually is the grandfather. But Cesar Soubeyran had never married and owed the title to the fact that he was the oldest surviving member of the family, in sum a paterfamilias, bearer of the name, and the sovereign authority.
As the most powerful older man in the village, le Papet manipulates the events to his own advantage. His nephew Ugolin dreams of turning his own farm into a profitable field of carnations, to be sold in Marseilles. But the only viable source of water is on the farm above him, owned by the uncle of Jean, brother of the departed Florette. When negotiations with the uncle break down and result in the accidental death of the owner, the Papet and Ugolin decide to hide the spring from the new owner under a wood and cement plug, turning the land worthless.
“With water, and with that land, if you plant a tomato stake, you’ll sleep in the shade a week later! He’s going to grow strawberries like lanterns, and cucumbers like cartwheels, olives as big as apricots, and vast incredible projects. And as for the carnations, they’re finished!”
The Soubeyrans rely on the villagers typical reaction to strangers to keep the history of the spring a secret, so when Jean de Florette arrives on his new farm, filled with dreams about the future, he is unaware of the true potential of his land.
“Well, look: after having worked hard – I mean intellectual work – after meditating a long time and philosophizing, I came to the conclusion that the only possible happiness was to be a man of Nature. I need air, I need space to crystallize my thoughts. I am more interested in what is true, pure, free – in a word, authentic, and I came here to cultivate the authentic. I hope you understand me?”
Ugolin, as his closest neighbour, plays the helpful hand to Jean and helps him settle in with his wife Aimee and with his daughter Manon. Ugolin secretly rejoices at the lack of experience of the young man, whose office job has ill-prepared him to a life of tiling an arid soil, but on the other hand he is deeply troubled by the hunchback’s enthusiasm and willingness to work hard.
This is the drama that unfolds under our eyes, as unmerciful and relentless as one of those ancient Greek tragedies: Jean de Florette puts everything he has: money, time, energy, sanity, into turning a profit from his farm. Some years, the rains deliver on his hopes of a good crop, but then come the dry summer spells when he is forced to carry water on his back from another valley. Soon his inherited money run out, he is exhausted, and even the efforts of his wife and daughter to help along are not enough to save him or his crops.
The Soubeyracs have managed to defeat the young dreamer from town, but at what cost?
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This we will find out in the second volume, one that starts a few years after the events described here, focusing on the daughter of Jean:
Little Manon was approaching her tenth year. She was all golden, with sea blue eyes too big for her face, and hair so thick that her mother could hardly extract the oak leaves, pine needles, or bramble twigs from it without a pair of scissors.
The wind of the hills, the friendship of the trees, and the silence of the lonely places has fashioned her into a little wild animal, as light and lively as a fox.
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I recommend reading the sequel immediately after finishing the first book, considering they were split from one movie script and really belong together.
Even based on the first half, and on the other movies from Pagnol that I watched recently, I do not hesitate to add this among my favorite stories. Truly memorable!