THE WORKERS
There was one thing about the natives of Etaples that impressed me
particularly, and that was the respect each artisan seemed to have
for his work. In the little village were candle-makers, bakers,
boot-makers, makers of brushes, etc., and all these workmen seemed to
be interested in their work and to have a great respect for it. They
worked slowly, patiently, and always thoroughly. I noticed the same
spirit in the fields. Just beyond the hill and the giant windmill that
overlooked the village, unfenced green fields sloped downward to green
valleys, then up over the hills again. Through this open countryside
wound the white roads of France; and always the great main roads were
arched by ancient elms. Unlike England, not even a hedge divided the
property of owners. Here every day crowds of farm laborers, mostly
women and girls, came early to work. One noticed a total absence of all
modern farm implements. The women still used the old-fashioned reaping
hook that was used long before the coming of Christ. What they cut they
bound carefully into tiny sheaves. The women, for the most part, were
dressed as the woman in Millet’s picture, “The Angelus,” from hood to
wooden shoes. Here, again, the work was done patiently, quietly, and
thoroughly. The modern idea of saving labor seemed never to have come
to them. Sometimes when not very busy I would take a walk through the
long white roads, leading into a white-housed red-roofed village, the
Norman tower of the little church piercing the tree-tops; then out
again through more green unfenced fields to another little village two,
or three, or sometimes four miles away.
Often while on these walks, I used to think of the rugged strength of
these sturdy French peasants who went so steadily and quietly about
their work. They were strongly built people, well developed, and their
faces were deep red--I suppose from so much work out of doors.