Journal of a Cowboy
A flight from France
Jean-Luc had been born in the Dordogne Valley in France shortly after the French Revolution, which was launched by the Estates General in 1789. He had always considered himself lucky, if not blessed, to have been born in a place farther southeast instead of in the middle of Paris, where most of the violence was. In his youth, his parents had regaled him with stories of just how those days had been so difficult for peasants who had very little to eat. They had to scrounge about the countryside looking for wild herbs and jackrabbits to brew into soup on a daily basis.
Yes, life must have been hard, but with nobles like Marie Antoinette and Napoleon Bonaparte cast into La Conciergerie, and Robespierre leading the Reign of Terror, many people had very little means of support. People were awakened in the middle of night to the sound of guns and sword fights that were rampant in quarrels and duels for a person’s honor. The Three Musketeers were legendary defenders of the common people.
The streets were crawling with Jansenists, who promoted the idea of Original Sin, the need for Divine Grace and the reason for Predestination. The Church in Rome had declared them all heresies against Catholicism. The movement had been prompted by a Dutch theologian named Cornelius Jansen. “Wisdom” had been declared the only goddess in the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris, and Jean-Luc couldn’t fathom any kind of future for himself in France. He thought of moving to another country, where he might get a fresh start. It couldn’t be anywhere in Europe, though, because for several generations there had been political and religious unrest there.
The Movement of the Jansenists had been preceded by that of the Huguenots, who had been driven away by Queen Catherine de Medici and her infamous Saint Bartholomew’s Day Massacre, a couple of generations before them. Those French Catholics had fled to North America, trying to find respite in the Wild West. It seemed as if it were the only place left in the world with a proper respect for individuality and self-determination.
Jean-Luc dreamed of joining pioneers like the French Priest, Father Jacques Marquette, who had made quite a name for himself as a missionary among the Native Tribe of Canada. They referred to him as “Black Robes,” because of the cassock he always wore among them. It wasn’t that Jean-Luc was seriously considering the life of a missionary, but he needed a chance to continue his life anew in virgin territory, where a man could define himself, away from emperors and queens, religious movements and political strife. It seemed to him that North America offered the best opportunities for adventure.
Perhaps he could travel to the New World and come back as a wealthy and experienced man. That might make his parents, Maurice and Jeanette, proud of him, but only if they didn’t know what he was planning. He would have to slip away from home at night and hide among the herds of La Camargue, a region of France located south of Arles between the Mediterranean Sea and the two branches of the Rhône delta. He might practice lassoing the bulls and cows there and in doing so, begin to redefine himself as a real cowboy.
He retired to the family barn that night, packing only a few necessary items for the trip. He would need some food for his journey, so he picked some apples at the orchard and stuffed them into a small sack. He lay down to sleep on top of some piles of straw. He would have to practice sleeping outside, under the stars. He recognized the constellation that formed the Pleiades. He knew them as “The Seven Sisters” that guided sailors upon the sea.