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It is difficult to pass these houses without admiring the enormousoaken beams, their ends carved into fantastic figures, which crownwith a black bas-relief the lower floor of most of them. In one placethese transverse timbers are covered with slate and mark a bluish linealong the frail wall of a dwelling covered by a roof /en colombage/which bends beneath the weight of years, and whose rotting shinglesare twisted by the alternate action of sun and rain. In another placeblackened, worn-out window-sills, with delicate sculptures nowscarcely discernible, seem too weak to bear the brown clay pots fromwhich springs the heart's-ease or the rose-bush of some poor working-woman. Farther on are doors studded with enormous nails, where thegenius of our forefathers has traced domestic hieroglyphics, of whichthe meaning is now lost forever. Here a Protestant attested hisbelief; there a Leaguer cursed Henry IV.; elsewhere some bourgeois hascarved the insignia of his /noblesse de cloches/, symbols of his long-forgotten magisterial glory. The whole history of France is there.Next to a tottering house with roughly plastered walls, where anartisan enshrines his tools, rises the mansion of a country gentleman,on the stone arch of which above the door vestiges of armorialbearings may still be seen, battered by the many revolutions that haveshaken France since 1789. In this hilly street the ground-floors ofthe merchants are neither shops nor warehouses; lovers of the MiddleAges will here find the /ouvrouere/ of our forefathers in all itsnaive simplicity. These low rooms, which have no shop-frontage, noshow-windows, in fact no glass at all, are deep and dark and withoutinterior or exterior decoration. Their doors open in two parts, eachroughly iron-bound; the upper half is fastened back within the room,the lower half, fitted with a spring-bell, swings continually to andfro. Air and light reach the damp den within, either through the upperhalf of the door, or through an open space between the ceiling and alow front wall, breast-high, which is closed by solid shutters thatare taken down every morning, put up every evening, and held in placeby heavy iron bars. human hair wigs long curly

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This wall serves as a counter for the merchandise. No delusive displayis there; only samples of the business, whatever it may chance to be,,such, for instance, as three or four tubs full of codfish and salt,a few bundles of sail-cloth, cordage, copper wire hanging from thejoists above, iron hoops for casks ranged along the wall, or a fewpieces of cloth upon the shelves. Enter. A neat girl, glowing withyouth, wearing a white kerchief, her arms red and bare, drops herknitting and calls her father or her mother, one of whom comes forwardand sells you what you want, phlegmatically, civilly, or arrogantly,according to his or her individual character, whether it be a matterof two sous' or twenty thousand francs' worth of merchandise. You maysee a cooper, for instance, sitting in his doorway and twirling histhumbs as he talks with a neighbor. To all appearance he owns nothingmore than a few miserable boat-ribs and two or three bundles of laths;but below in the port his teeming wood-yard supplies all the cooperagetrade of Anjou. He knows to a plank how many casks are needed if thevintage is good. A hot season makes him rich, a rainy season ruinshim; in a single morning puncheons worth eleven francs have been knownto drop to six. In this country, as in Touraine, atmosphericvicissitudes control commercial life. Wine-growers, proprietors, wood-merchants, coopers, inn-keepers, mariners, all keep watch of the sun.They tremble when they go to bed lest they should hear in the morningof a frost in the night; they dread rain, wind, drought, and wantwater, heat, and clouds to suit their fancy. A perpetual duel goes onbetween the heavens and their terrestrial interests. The barometersmooths, saddens, or makes merry their countenances, turn and turnabout. From end to end of this street, formerly the Grand'Rue deSaumur, the words: "Here's golden weather," are passed from door todoor; or each man calls to his neighbor: "It rains louis," knowingwell what a sunbeam or the opportune rainfall is bringing him.On Saturdays after midday, in the fine season, not one sou's worth ofmerchandise can be bought from these worthy traders. Each has hisvineyard, his enclosure of fields, and all spend two days in thecountry. This being foreseen, and purchases, sales, and profitsprovided for, the merchants have ten or twelve hours to spend inparties of pleasure, in making observations, in criticisms, and incontinual spying. A housewife cannot buy a partridge without theneighbors asking the husband if it were cooked to a turn. A young girlnever puts her head near a window that she is not seen by idlinggroups in the street. Consciences are held in the light; and thehouses, dark, silent, impenetrable as they seem, hide no mysteries.Life is almost wholly in the open air; every household sits at its ownthreshold, breakfasts, dines, and quarrels there. No one can passalong the street without being examined; in fact formerly, when astranger entered a provincial town he was bantered and made game offrom door to door. From this came many good stories, and the nickname/copieux/, which was applied to the inhabitants of Angers, whoexcelled in such urban sarcasms.

The ancient mansions of the old town of Saumur are at the top of thishilly street, and were formerly occupied by the nobility of theneighborhood. The melancholy dwelling where the events of thefollowing history took place is one of these mansions,,venerablerelics of a century in which men and things bore the characteristicsof simplicity which French manners and customs are losing day by day.Follow the windings of the picturesque thoroughfare, whoseirregularities awaken recollections that plunge the mind mechanicallyinto reverie, and you will see a somewhat dark recess, in the centreof which is hidden the door of the house of Monsieur Grandet. It isimpossible to understand the force of this provincial expression,thehouse of Monsieur Grandet,without giving the biography of MonsieurGrandet himself. human hair wigs lace cap

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Monsieur Grandet enjoyed a reputation in Saumur whose causes andeffects can never be fully understood by those who have not, at onetime or another, lived in the provinces. In 1789 Monsieur Grandet,still called by certain persons le Pere Grandet, though the number ofsuch old persons has perceptibly diminished,was a master-cooper, ableto read, write, and cipher. At the period when the French Republicoffered for sale the church property in the arrondissement of Saumur,the cooper, then forty years of age, had just married the daughter ofa rich wood-merchant. Supplied with the ready money of his own fortuneand his wife's /dot/, in all about two thousand louis-d'or, Grandetwent to the newly established "district," where, with the help of twohundred double louis given by his father-in-law to the surlyrepublican who presided over the sales of the national domain, heobtained for a song, legally if not legitimately, one of the finestvineyards in the arrondissement, an old abbey, and several farms. Theinhabitants of Saumur were so little revolutionary that they thoughtPere Grandet a bold man, a republican, and a patriot with a mind opento all the new ideas; though in point of fact it was open only tovineyards. He was appointed a member of the administration of Saumur,and his pacific influence made itself felt politically andcommercially. Politically, he protected the ci-devant nobles, andprevented, to the extent of his power, the sale of the lands andproperty of the /emigres/; commercially, he furnished the Republicanarmies with two or three thousand puncheons of white wine, and tookhis pay in splendid fields belonging to a community of women whoselands had been reserved for the last lot.

Under the Consulate Grandet became mayor, governed wisely, andharvested still better pickings. Under the Empire he was calledMonsieur Grandet. Napoleon, however, did not like republicans, andsuperseded Monsieur Grandet (who was supposed to have worn thePhrygian cap) by a man of his own surroundings, a future baron of theEmpire. Monsieur Grandet quitted office without regret. He hadconstructed in the interests of the town certain fine roads which ledto his own property; his house and lands, very advantageouslyassessed, paid moderate taxes; and since the registration of hisvarious estates, the vineyards, thanks to his constant care, hadbecome the "head of the country,",a local term used to denote thosethat produced the finest quality of wine. He might have asked for thecross of the Legion of honor.

This event occurred in 1806. Monsieur Grandet was then fifty-sevenyears of age, his wife thirty-six, and an only daughter, the fruit oftheir legitimate love, was ten years old. Monsieur Grandet, whomProvidence no doubt desired to compensate for the loss of hismunicipal honors, inherited three fortunes in the course of this year,,that of Madame de la Gaudiniere, born de la Bertelliere, the motherof Madame Grandet; that of old Monsieur de la Bertelliere, hergrandfather; and, lastly, that of Madame Gentillet, her grandmother onthe mother's side: three inheritances, whose amount was not known toany one. The avarice of the deceased persons was so keen that for along time they had hoarded their money for the pleasure of secretlylooking at it. Old Monsieur de la Bertelliere called an investment anextravagance, and thought he got better interest from the sight of hisgold than from the profits of usury. The inhabitants of Saumurconsequently estimated his savings according to "the revenues of thesun's wealth," as they said.

Monsieur Grandet thus obtained that modern title of nobility which ourmania for equality can never rub out. He became the most imposingpersonage in the arrondissement. He worked a hundred acres ofvineyard, which in fruitful years yielded seven or eight hundredhogsheads of wine. He owned thirteen farms, an old abbey, whosewindows and arches he had walled up for the sake of economy,,ameasure which preserved them,,also a hundred and twenty-seven acresof meadow-land, where three thousand poplars, planted in 1793, grewand flourished; and finally, the house in which he lived. Such was hisvisible estate; as to his other property, only two persons could giveeven a vague guess at its value: one was Monsieur Cruchot, a notaryemployed in the usurious investments of Monsieur Grandet; the otherwas Monsieur des Grassins, the richest banker in Saumur, in whoseprofits Grandet had a certain covenanted and secret share.Although old Cruchot and Monsieur des Grassins were both gifted withthe deep discretion which wealth and trust beget in the provinces,they publicly testified so much respect to Monsieur Grandet thatobservers estimated the amount of his property by the obsequiousattention which they bestowed upon him. In all Saumur there was no onenot persuaded that Monsieur Grandet had a private treasure, somehiding-place full of louis, where he nightly took ineffable delight ingazing upon great masses of gold. Avaricious people gathered proof ofthis when they looked at the eyes of the good man, to which the yellowmetal seemed to have conveyed its tints. The glance of a manaccustomed to draw enormous interest from his capital acquires, likethat of the libertine, the gambler, or the sycophant, certainindefinable habits,,furtive, eager, mysterious movements, which neverescape the notice of his co-religionists. This secret language is in acertain way the freemasonry of the passions. Monsieur Grandet inspiredthe respectful esteem due to one who owed no man anything, who,skilful cooper and experienced wine-grower that he was, guessed withthe precision of an astronomer whether he ought to manufacture athousand puncheons for his vintage, or only five hundred, who neverfailed in any speculation, and always had casks for sale when caskswere worth more than the commodity that filled them, who could storehis whole vintage in his cellars and bide his time to put thepuncheons on the market at two hundred francs, when the littleproprietors had been forced to sell theirs for five louis. His famousvintage of 1811, judiciously stored and slowly disposed of, broughthim in more than two hundred and forty thousand francs.

Financially speaking, Monsieur Grandet was something between a tigerand a boa-constrictor. He could crouch and lie low, watch his prey along while, spring upon it, open his jaws, swallow a mass of louis,and then rest tranquilly like a snake in process of digestion,impassible, methodical, and cold. No one saw him pass without afeeling of admiration mingled with respect and fear; had not every manin Saumur felt the rending of those polished steel claws? For thisone, Maitre Cruchot had procured the money required for the purchaseof a domain, but at eleven per cent. For that one, Monsieur desGrassins discounted bills of exchange, but at a frightful deduction ofinterest. Few days ever passed that Monsieur Grandet's name was notmentioned either in the markets or in social conversations at theevening gatherings. To some the fortune of the old wine-grower was anobject of patriotic pride. More than one merchant, more than oneinnkeeper, said to strangers with a certain complacency: "Monsieur, wehave two or three millionaire establishments; but as for MonsieurGrandet, he does not himself know how much he is worth."

In 1816 the best reckoners in Saumur estimated the landed property ofthe worthy man at nearly four millions; but as, on an average, he hadmade yearly, from 1793 to 1817, a hundred thousand francs out of thatproperty, it was fair to presume that he possessed in actual money asum nearly equal to the value of his estate. So that when, after agame of boston or an evening discussion on the matter of vines, thetalk fell upon Monsieur Grandet, knowing people said: "Le PereGrandet? le Pere Grandet must have at least five or six millions.""You are cleverer than I am; I have never been able to find out theamount," answered Monsieur Cruchot or Monsieur des Grassins, wheneither chanced to overhear the remark.

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