Draft --

 A Story Told by Sandra and Veronique to the 7th generation Chabal’s: 

(Alice, Paul, Félix, Youri, Colette, Eamon, Mateo, Dominic, Sami, Joey, Mahé, Emile)

(Photos of the land and views maybe a collage?) 

Régis took a bold path. As a young man in 1853, he left the farm to start a new life in Avignon, where he found great success establishing a chemiserie (shirt store). He eventually passed the business to his son, and later to his grandson—my grandfather, Marcel Chabal. That makes, Régis was my great-great-grandfather. My mother was born just above that very shop; when I visited as a child, I was enchanted by the store's high walls and rows of neatly folded shirts. Régis’s life spanned (1828-1914) from the dawn of the Industrial Revolution to the birth of the Modern Age, encompassing the epic changes you are about to see.

1828 INTRODUCTION 

 

Our family’s ancestral farm, Ferme des Bachassons, sits at the base of Mount Gerbier de Jonc—famed as the source of France’s longest river, the Loire, which winds for 630 miles before draining into the Atlantic Ocean. Although our family has lived on this land since 1694, our specific story begins with Régis Chabal, born in 1828.

To understand what life was like when Regis was born, we can start by imagining a stone house with a thatched roof, lacking both electricity and indoor plumbing. Without electricity, how would they see at night? Without a furnace, how would they keep warm? You likely learned in school about using fireplaces for cooking and warmth, or perhaps you know about candles and oil lamps. But what about the lack of running water?

Today, we turn on a faucet and clean water appears instantly. Think about how many times we use water in a single day—to drink, cook, shower, clean, and use the toilet. In Régis's time, people relied on chamber pots, outhouses, and used buckets of water carried from a well. It sounds a lot like camping, which is fun for a weekend, but it gets old quickly when it’s your year-round reality. 

We were fortunate that our family’s land included a spring on the property which flowed directly from the inside of Mount Gerbier de Jonc. Let me tell you about the birth of this mountain and reveal how it is able to provide so much clean water. Indulge me for a moment—you know how much I love to talk about geology!

 

 

Eight million years ago, a massive volcanic eruption created Mount Gerbier de Jonc. Eventually, the volcano went dormant, and the lava ceased to flow, leaving behind an empty central "chimney" and a hollowed-out magma chamber. 

This unique structure now acts as a giant underground reservoir, capturing winter snowmelt and seasonal rains within its depths. Because the rock is riddled with cracks and fissures, this trapped water doesn’t just sit there; it slowly filters through the mountain and escapes as natural springs. One of those very springs sat on our family property. It is humble in appearance, but it carries a grand legacy: this constant, cool trickle is one of the official starting points of the Loire, the longest and most storied river in all of France. Standing on his father’s land, Regis would have been witnessing the birth of a river that travels hundreds of miles across the heart of the country.

 

1835, RÉGIS IS 7 YEARS OLD

What life was like for Regis

Before the sun was up, Régis pulled on his wool socks and clogs and stepped outside into the cold mountain air. The sheep were already bleating for hay—twenty-two of them pressed together for warmth. The mule stamped his feet, and the pigs snorted as they smelled the kitchen scraps drawing nearer. The chickens had to be let out of the coop and counted—all thirty-three of them—because foxes often prowled in the night. The cat, Minet, wound between his legs, hoping for a splash of milk during milking time, while the dog, Fido, trotted ahead, checking the perimeter as if he were the farm manager.

Régis loved the morning. His job was to collect the eggs before his two-year-old sister, Ursule, could try to pick them up. And you know what happens when a two-year-old grabs an egg! His older brother Cyprien, age nine, fed the pigs, while ten-year-old Pierre, the eldest, milked the cow—always leaving one of the four teats untouched for her calf.

Maman called everyone back for breakfast by singing “À table!” Waiting for them was café au lait, soft-boiled eggs, and thick crusts of rye bread spread with chestnut jam. Before breakfast, Papa Antoine had been mending a section of the thatched roof; now that the snow had melted, the spring rain had made its presence known on the kitchen floor. Maman was not too happy about that! 

 

After breakfast, Antoine and his sons, Pierre and Cyprien, took the sheep out to graze at the communal pasture. Now that a dispute with their neighbor had been settled in court, they were able to take the shortest route, walking without worry across the far corner of the neighbor’s land. Antoine always shook his head when passing the property. It had been such a petty thing when the neighbor tried to block the path, but Antoine vowed then to always remain civil. He was grateful for the Father Luke the priest, who knew how to read and so helped him make his case to the magistrate regarding his grazing rights. Antoine was determined that his sons would receive a good education. 

Antoine left the boys to mind the sheep while he returned home to an endless list of chores. With Fido’s help, the boys and the animals would all return home safely in the late afternoon.

 

Whenever possible, Papa allowed his sons to walk the mile and a half to school, held in the rectory of the church in Sainte-Eulalie. The boys enjoyed the time away from their chores and formed friendships with children of all ages, as there was only one classroom for first-graders all the way to eighth-grade. Pen and paper were far too expensive, so they used chalk and slates to learn their letters and basic arithmetic. But whenever they were needed on the farm, like at harvest time, students always stayed home to help.

Once a week, Elizabeth’s cousin Marianne came to make butter, cheese and lait fermenté (like yogurt).  Marianne traded her labor for dairy products, and since she was good company, it was a wonderful arrangement for everyone. Antoine and Elizabeth were thriving on their well-established ten-acre farm. It produced enough surplus to sell, which in turn allowed them to hire help when needed and even set aside some savings. (This was very important during a bad year, when drought or heavy rain could ruin a year’s crop and they’d need something to carry them through.)

Every evening after dinner, the family gathered around the fireplace to keep warm and entertain one another. Cyprien would play the harmonica, while Pierre was always ready to play cards. Maybe Triomphe or a game with rules he made up.  He’d also come up with jokes that either made everyone laugh or when they were bad roll their eyes. Tonight, Maman was happily sewing a doll for Ursule—a project she had put off for too long, but now that Ursule was two, she wouldn't delay any longer. 

Decoding the newspaper was a family event. Antoine has memorized many bible verses but each week the newspaper, written in French was a struggle. The family spoke a dialect, but the kids learned to speak and write French in school. As paper was scare, the newspapers were passed around and share and read allowed with the neighbors so from the well warn and somewhat outdated copies they got the news had already been delivered. 

Their talks frequently turned to "progress," as it was always an exciting topic of conversation. Just forty years earlier, the Canal du Centre had been completed, joining the Loire to the Rhône. This allowed boats to transport goods back and forth much faster than solely relying upon horses and carts that had to navigate rough roads. Farm products, coal and raw materials could be sent all over France, in particular to the cities, which were rapidly growing in population as the industrial revolution was well underway.

 

Below is a map of France that the children might have copied from the school room. The mountains, reivers, major cities and trade routes are well marked. 

By 1835, trains had become the biggest topic of all. The newspaper claimed that trains would eventually take people from Paris to Lyon in under twelve hours—an amazing feat, considering it normally took seven days by road. In fact, it was said that King Louis Philippe was planning to take the official ride. Mon Dieu! Imagine that. And to think those massive machines ran on steam! These inventions promised to make life better for everyone. The Chabal’s had much to ponder as the world was rapidly changing.

1835 ELIZABETH’S LEGACY 

Sadly, Régis’s mother, Elizabeth, never had the chance to finish the doll. She went to bed early one evening complaining of a stomachache and died within the week. She was only forty-three years old. While the exact cause remains a mystery, I suspect it was appendicitis. Our family has a long history with the condition—my mother, my brother, my son, my granddaughter, and I have all had it. Today, quick medical care makes it more of an inconvenience than a danger, but in 1835, it was often a death sentence.

The loss of their Elizabeth left the family bereft, but with the endless demands of the farm, there was little time to mourn. Marianne continued to help when possible, though she was no longer cheerful, often muttering that the workload was too great. At just two years old, Ursule grew deeply attached to young Régis. He stayed near the house, trying to remember everything their mother used to do. Since Marianne left each day by four o’clock, young Régis took charge of “le gouter,” the snack his mother would make the children. He insisted on doing things “comme Maman a fait”—just as Mom had done—A nice slice of country bread with spread generously with crème des marrons – chestnut butter, and when in season, peaches or apples from the orchard.

Regis was just old enough to have only few memories of her, and when his little sister, who had no memory of her at all, would ask him about their mother, he would ask his father if he remembered her correctly. “She laughed a lot, didn’t she, Papa?”

Antoine would smile and nod. “She did.”

“And she had long brown hair.”

“Yes, lovely brown hair just like your sister.”

Then Antoine would take Ursule onto his lap and would tell them the stories about their mother that they never tired of hearing, about how they’d met, what made her giggle, and above all, how much she loved her children. It was hard to talk about her sometimes, but his own mother had died was he was only two and he had heard so very little about her. He didn’t want his own children to feel the same a hole in his heart.

Everyone adored Ursule. Not only had she lost her mother at a tender age, but another sister, Henriette, had died just before Ursule was born. Papa and her three brothers tended to spoil her—especially Régis with whom she had grown quite attached. 

On sunny days, Régis would strap a large basket to his back and take Ursule and Fido foraging. Each season brought new treasures: wild strawberries in spring; raspberries and blackberries in summer; and pears, plums, mushrooms, and chestnuts in the fall. Régis’s favorite game involved a "giant black iron monster" that could run faster than a horse. He would chase Ursule around the garden making loud “choo-choo” sounds while she squealed with delight. To them, the trains that dominated adult conversation were still strange and magical creatures. 

(maybe add a watercolor of local fruits , mushrooms and nuts-- use a seasonal map to add more details and emphasize that food was eaten in season)

Elizabeth’s clock remained on the mantel, a marriage gift from her parents. When Cyprien grew old enough, he was allowed to wind it as the clock’s spring had to be tightened every night to keep the hands moving. The steady tick-tick-tick was a comfort, reminding them of their mother’s presence. Years later, when Régis went to school in Aubenas, he would see a great tower with a single mechanism running five clock faces at once; but for now, the only clock he knew was the one on the family mantel with which his mother had taught him to tell time.

 

Elizabeth’s sewing basket also stayed by the fire, filled with yarn, needles, and fabric scraps. Inside was a wooden box containing two treasures: a sharp pair of scissors and a silver thimble. With no one to stop them, Régis and Ursule used these tools to make toys. Régis created medieval figures—kings, queens, and jesters—and even stitched a kite out of muslin, with a little help from Papa. He became quite skilled with a needle, which pleased his father, as the task of mending now fell to Régis.

His most precious project, however, was finishing the doll his mother had started. Régis brought it to life with yarn hair and a dress made from fabric scraps. For the eyes, he used two smooth buttons salvaged his mother’s favorite house dress; their soft touch reminded him of her gentle songs. Ursule named the doll Henriette, after the sister she never knew. From then on, Ursule and Henriette were inseparable.

Because Ursule had few memories of her mother, she came to know her through the stories and traditions her family kept alive. Maman’s spirit remained the guiding light of the household, and as the years passed, it was her memory that guided Régis wherever he went.

1842 OPEN AIR MARKETS

Once a month, Sainte-Eulalie hosted an open-air market. It was a place where locals gathered to buy, sell, and catch up on the news. All manner of household goods were sold there: felt hats, frying pans, handmade furniture, books, toys, shoes, scissors, chickens, and pigs. Antoine would bring surplus bundles of wool, sacks of rye, live chickens, chestnuts, and occasionally a piglet. Regis brought along his own homemade toys to sell or barter; kites, and felted miniature animals and traded them for marbles, old clock pieces, and toy soldiers. Papa affectionately called him his “petit commerçant.”

Many people brought their wares by donkey or horse and cart, while others arrived carrying gigantic backpacks. These men were known as colporteurs. The name came from “col” (collar) and “porter” (to carry), since the wooden frames of the packs rested on the collarbone for stability. Regis was fascinated by these young men. They traveled the countryside with packs full of goods and services stopping at farms or markets along the way. And with each stop they would exchange the news of villagers from farm to farm

Antoine learned of a trade school in Aubenas where boys who lived in the country could train to provide services such as sewing, cutting, masonry and carpentry while at the same time learning more advanced academics like reading, writing and arithmetic. This training included an apprenticeship which help offset the costs of school. And so it was decided that first Pierre would go first and then Regis would have a turn to train in L’ecole technique de Aubenas.  Cyprien would stay and learn to farm like his papa.

1844 SCHOOL IN AUBENAS

By 1844 Regis’s entered the vocational school at Aubenas. Sewing machines would not be commonplace for a few more decades and so everything was still sewn by hand. 

The following illustration will give you an idea of what he had to learn to make shirts.

When Regis returns home, he works on the farm while making shirts for his neighbors. He wouldn’t be able to start a business until he turned 21 years old.

1848 THE LOTTERY

Following Napoleon’s 1804 decree, all young men were required to register for the draft. At age twenty, they entered a lottery to determine who would serve. In 1848, Regis walked to Sainte-Eulalie and drew a number from an urn. He drew number 53. The quota for that year was 10; those who drew numbers one through ten were required to join the military for seven years of service. Had his number been lower, Regis might have been swept up in the turmoil of the Second Republic and Louis-Napoléon's coup, changing the entire course of his life.

( graphic of pulling a good number? Or find something on the internet or show a war scene from the second republic)

1850-1853 COLPORTEUR 

When Regis turned 21 he was legally able to start a business and so in 1850 he became an official Shirtmaker. At this point on he set his sights on making enough money to move to a city just like his brother had done in Bezier. 

 

Here is the story directly told by his grandson Jean Chabal.

(Add photo do we have one of Jean sitting down and looking like he might be telling a story?)

 

He was the youngest in his family; he had to leave the farm to his older brother and, for that very reason, choose another trade. So he became a shirt peddler, having learned the trade before setting out on the road. My father often told me that he went about it this way: he had a painted wooden box that he carried on his back, using two cushions, and in which he placed eight or ten 3-meter rolls of fabric for shirts, neatly rolled up, a pair of good, sharp scissors, and a few  pattern templates  . Thus equipped, he would set off for the neighboring farms, wearing clogs, a velvet suit, and a black felt hat. Once he arrived at a farm, he offered his services (his family was well-known, so he had no trouble) which consisted of cutting out one or two shirts from the patterns in his case, leaving it to the women of the farm to assemble them, spending the winter by the fireplace when the depth of the snow prevented them from going out. And that was it; his role was limited to that.

 

Since his family was well-known among the farms —he didn’t have too much trouble building a clientele. But he had to return every Sunday to his father’s farm, and the miles are long in clogs.

After three years, he had saved up a small nest egg and developed great skill at tailoring. He became ambitious, and what did he do? Quite simply, he took a stagecoach to Avignon to visit a friend of his father’s who had settled there as a mason. Off he went, wearing a flannel belt with pockets and twenty gold louis well hidden inside.