The Passadoc Gazette - No. 76

The Quiz... We'll meet them when we get back.
We talk a little... a lot... passionately!
My Proust madeleine! Ferrasses: Lavender Party... Jacques Arnaud... See you in the Oubradou de la Fouant... Provenço libro... The history of lavender... Andree Blachere... Gleb Sivirine... Concrete on the Mediterranean coast... The beast of the Gevaudan... Transhumance...
Vagabondages...
Photos from yesterday
The Library of Passadoc

Claude Boyer

My mechanical Proust madeleine!

Puget-sur-Argens, 1965... Here I am on my father's Massey Harris Pony tractor.

As part of the Marschall Plan, the Canadian Pony 11 made in the United States was imported to allow farmers to abandon their horses. Its particularity is its 12 hp Continental motor. It will be one of the first large-scale tractors. There were 6 models of Pony, the Canadian 11 is the only one built in the USA. The 811, 812, 820, 820 Diesel and Vigneron were built in France under license and equipped with Simca or Peugeot engines.

I wouldn't be able to say what my father's model was.

Yesterday, at the lavender festival in Ferrasses, I had the joy of going back in time when I saw this Pony. I haven't seen one in half a century...

Ferrasses... Lavender Party

Click!

Jacques Arnaud

Descending from a powerful family, the Laugier-Arnauds, mainly composed of bankers, silk traders, and lawyers, he could have led a long life if he had been tarred by the thirst for distant discoveries and horizons.
Soon he felt narrow in his mountains and in 1805, Jacques decided to try the great adventure, that is to say to join the thousands of migrants who left old Europe by throwing themselves across the Atlantic to try the American dream.

Click... The story is on this page.

See you at "Ubradou de la Fouant"

André Abbe took us for a guided tour of Roquebrune-sur-Argens... Comments in Provencal !
Many Roquebrunois and Roquebrunois were present and each went from his anecdote as he visited. The walk ended at Didou's house around the glass of friendship. Thank you Dedé for this sympathic wandering in the village. Well, that's it. !

In the past, the Roquebrunois used to drop off their rubble at the location of the current parking lot at the bottom of the village.
One day, in the middle of the pieces of plaster, vermolue beams and other gallons, André Abbe See books... He approached and saved – among other things – a dictionary dated 1701!

Click! Listen!

Jeanne Monin… The imaginary story of an old book found in the midst of beams and malles...

He had spent his book life in the beautiful library of a large bourgeois house ... »The castle », as the people of the village called it.

We didn't open much more... We barely flipped it... Actually, we didn't read it anymore! But never, ever, would it have come to the master's idea to separate himself, or worse: to throw him away!
On the highest of the shelves, he cracked his back in the sun and stopped with dust... He was getting older... like the master who once gave his soul back to God... Unless it was the Devil.

« The castle » was sold to people of the city who modernized here, demolished there...
– A library is nice but you need a children's playroom

Farewell the beautiful woodwork... the books were given or sold on the brocades. Like the others, he walked from house to villa... We never knew what hand killed him on the pile of rubble.
Fortunately, André Abbe It's the way!

Provènço libro !

Giselle Penat-Lorde

Harvesting

O beautiful estieu, sesoun de l'aboundànci,
Quau, digo-me, to bend with you?
Sias e saras toujour lou bèn-adu,
Toujour vendrera courouna l ́esperanço

O beautiful summer, season of abundance,
Who, tell me, can complain about you?
Welcome you are and you will be,
Always, you will crown hope.
Frédéric Mistral – Translation Alain Viau.

The history of lavender

A beautiful story to the legend from which it would emerge.

The first sunrises awakened from their sweetness a still lethargic Provence. Birds gave thanks to this and there to the new day with melodious and joyful songs. The bees were already doing the job in an aerial ballet. The nature numbed by a quiet and peaceful night was slowly stretching.

As every day, a little fairy named Lavandula, not more than one inch tall, awakened with nature in an unchanging ritual. Smoothing of her pretty blond hair, a few drops of fresh dew to get rid of and make her skin fresh, giving back to her eyes the brilliance of a blue never seen before. A few quick fritters to clear her crystal wings, she was ready for further exploration. She had no attachment and traveled according to her desires where to let herself be carried by the winds. Evolved so high that no one could see it, Lavandula kept a strict notebook of each landscape she was flying over.

Click! the rest is on this page.

Philippe Natalini

Andrée Blachere

Again, tribute and honour to the many women who engaged in resistance during the Second World War. Irreplaceable liaison officers, courageously carrying out important but dangerous missions, most were young girls who did not hesitate to engage knowing the risks involved: arrest, torture, deportation and the worst, death. To illustrate this commitment, this courage, here is the testimony of Andrée Blachere, a young resistant from Bollene (Vaucluse):

« I joined the Resistance in July 1943. I was just 21 years old. I was a member of the FUJP (United Front of the Young Patriots). In October or November, an official of this organization entrusted me with a mission that remains engraved in my memory. We had to carry a suitcase containing leaflets and weapons from Valencia to Avignon. When he handed it back to me in Valencia, he said:
– At the exit from Avignon station, the Germans control the passengers, especially the men. Women, especially if you give them a lovely smile, come by more easily. But still be very careful. You'll hand over the suitcase to a man who'll be standing in front of the café, on the left, leaving the station. (Today this coffee no longer exists). He will keep in his right hand a copy of the newspaper of the time « The Little One Marseilles« .

So I'm taking the train carelessly from a 20-year-old girl. I install myself in a compartment, the precious suitcase, in the luggage net, far enough from me, in case of always possible and unforeseen control.

At the time the train started, three German soldiers, including a young and elegant officer, settled in the compartment. This one gets enterprising, all smiles. He tells me that France is a beautiful country, especially the French Riviera and invites me to spend a few days with him.

Finally we arrive at the Avignon station. I take my suitcase and prepare to face German control. A terrible anxiety holds my throat. The sweat drips down my back. I suddenly see my young officer getting ready to go out. A chance. A reflex. I stand next to him smiling. We pass, thus avoiding control.

OEgg! I'm in the square. But now I have to get rid of him... And my suitcase. I'll meet him at the train station buffet. I see the one waiting with his diary in his right hand. I put the suitcase to him with relief, he gives me his diary without a word and disappears quickly. Mission accomplished. I'm proud of it, but I'll always remember it. As for my handsome officer, no need to tell you that he's still waiting for me!

Andrée Blachere joined the Army of Shadows in 2011, she was 90 years old.

Gleb Sivirine

Gleb Sivirine (head of the maquis) testified:
Great day for the young people of the maquis, who made their first military parade, and at the bottom, it worked very well, much better as together and as discipline than I expected.

So, at 9 a.m., here as I said, and at 9 1/2 a.m. precise, according to the schedule, departure for Aiguines. I go down with the car, Roger, Jean-Pierre and two others, the last three in front with the F.M. barring the road to finish in Aiguines. With Roger, we prepare the material details of the ceremony, we warn people, then I return to the road, a few hundred meters from the village where I wait for my men. Two sections of 18 men, ordered one by Pierrot, the other by Dominique, that of Pierrot in shorts and blue shirt, that of Dominique, in companion style uniform. I take command of the whole and we scroll in an impeccable way singing through the village. The manoeuvre is done very well, sharp stops, handling weapons really not bad for beginners, because many did not know anything about weaponry a few weeks ago. Hail to the colors, then minute of silence in memory of our dead, minute of all the more poignant as we heard behind us the sobs of Madame Dûchatel (1)...

I take over the command, we come out of the village, and when I'm going to ask them to pick up the car, there's 1, 2 then almost everyone who asks me to go to the Halls to make the colour greeting, that is 6 km away again.
Les Salles is the best supply to us in the region and the inhabitants are really very chic (2). I'm being prayed for two minutes, then I decide we're going down there, and I'm going with my F.M. staff to prepare everything and warn the people we're coming.

Touching reception of spontaneity and kindness. When we arrive, the whole village is massed on the road, men discover or greet, women cry... After the ceremony, we are welcomed to the hotel of the village where we obviously occupy the large room in total being 44 to all of us. Very friendly parade of people coming each to bring something, that eggs, that bread, that cheese and especially wine. In total, amazing meals ending with songs from home and a cream offered by the ladies of the Salles who, to make us wait, also sing some romances. I felt that if I hadn't been careful with the distribution of the wine, the return could have been a little difficult, but everything went well and the departure parade was quite suitable.

1. The wife of Constable François Duchâtel murdered in Aups (83) on 12 June 1944.
2. In the Halls, Louis Picoche will report in particular the help of the families Anot, Bagarre, Sumian and Laugier. In Aiguines, the Malon, Sage and Perrier families.

Concrete on the Mediterranean coast

If our Mediterranean coastline is today full of real estate constructions of all kinds, it has not always been so. 78 years ago, concrete appeared on our shores, not because of real estate developers, but because of the German occupant.

Thus built up « The Mediterranean Wall » (in German: Südwall, meaning « southern rampart »). It was an extensive system of coastal fortifications, built by the Third Reich during World War II (from 1943 to August 1944) along the French coast of the Mediterranean Sea, from Cerbère to Menton, and intended to prevent an invasion by the Allies.

The 19^e German army whose PC was in Avignon, armed these fortifications. It was organised in 7 coastal defence sectors covering 864 km from the French coast of the Mediterranean, from the Spanish border to the Italian border. Many works making up this Südwall are still standing and are an integral part of the landscape.

See additional information on Sudwall Superforum.

Alain Cathala

The beast of the Gevaudan.

On 30 June 1764, on the rough plateaus of the upper Vivarais (south of the Massif Central), Jeanne Boulet, a 14-year-old little shepherdess, died as a victim of a « Wild beast »According to the priest who buried it. From then on, the aggressions of young shepherds will multiply in spite of great beatings.

Psychosis is spreading in this region called Gevaudan, which corresponds to the present department of Lozère. The Mystery « Beast » made speak of her in the gazettes and even at the court of King Louis XV, in Versailles, where the troops were mobilized to give her hunting. In vain. He will be assigned a total of 80 to 100 deaths in three years.

The most fanciful rumors are going to run free until these days, with the film The Wolf Pact (Christophe Gans, 2001). Some imagine an extraordinary beast or a serial killer who would have trained dogs for that purpose.

According to historian Jean-Marc Moriceau, it is actually three large wolves. The first was shot dead by François Antoine, king's archbishop holder, in September 1765, on the estate of the royal abbey of Chazes. The last was killed on 19 June 1767 by a child of the country, Jean Chastel. After that date, there was no more drama.
And the historian recalls that the attacks of young herd keepers by wolves were relatively frequent in the countryside of the Old Regime, which still counted in the XVIII^e 20 thousand wolves. The Little Red Hat is not just a tale...

Source: herodote

François Abbe

Transhumance

At the end of June 1984, I was 10 years old. We had left Saint-Auban (Alpes Maritimes) at 900 m above sea level to reach the Colle at 1,900 m above sea level. There's snow in summer but no grass! What's the point of getting so high? Because on the other side of the pass, on Mount Mounier, we find grass all summer!

It's not hot... So we pull out the sweaters... A sweater knit by my aunt Jo... As I loved math, she had personalized it. Class, right? A beautiful journey that I remember especially through the photos of André (my dad).

The school was dried up for transhumance. Andre followed it ten times. We hope that other shepherds will take over so that this beautiful tradition can continue... (not to mention transhumances) « postcard » where sheep are taken to villages for photo).

Jeanne Monin ... Every time I read « transhumance », inevitably I remember these paragraphs of Monsieur Daudet... Happiness:

« II must tell you that in Provence, it is the use, when the heat comes, to send the cattle to the Alps. Beasts and people spend five or six months up there, housed in the beautiful star, in the grass to the belly; Then, at the first thrill of autumn, we go back down to the mas, and come back bourgeoisly to graze the small grey hills that smell rosemary...

So last night the herds were coming home. Since the morning, the gate was waiting, open to two wings; The sheepfolds were full of fresh straw. Time in the hour, we thought: « Now they're in Eyguières, now Paradou. » Then suddenly, towards the evening, a loud cry: « There they are! » And over there, far away, we see the flock moving in a glory of dust.

The whole road seems to be walking with him... The old rams come first, the horn forward, the wild air; behind them the bulk of sheep, the mothers a little tired, their infants in their legs; – the red pommon mules carrying in baskets the lambs of a day they bend while walking; Then the dogs, all sweaty, with tongues to the ground, and two great naughty shepherds fall on the heels like chaps. »

I don't get tired...

Document PASSADOC – Photo André Abbe

Christophe Kilou

Wines-sur-Caramy

...in the Var.

Alain Cathala

Château de Baux – Saint-Jean-de-Bueges.

Former seigneury of the Aubert de Gelas de Chalus, the castle was sold and sold... Last owner in the 1970s, Mr. Sicard, who sold the castle (symbolic franc) to the department that restored it and handed it over to the commune.

Draguignan

Montpellier

The Peyrou Gardens. It is the arrival of the Saint Clement's aqueduct that brings the water to the city. It is drawn at 10 km, at the Lez source, brought by an aqueduct, passing through Montferrier-sur-Lez, Saint-Clément-de-Rivière, then, canalized (route de Lodeve), it goes back to the aqueduct of the Arceaux, in Montpellier, the basin for the surplus water. Today, Montpellier is fed by the Rhône water.

Guy Bouyer