girls. So, you see, that’s how the conscript’s celebration, or class party, was born.”
Mr. Pixie-hat told me that this event became so important in the lives of young Frenchmen, that the city of Villefrance–Sur–Saône, north of Lyon on the highway to Paris, established the Musée De La Conscription (conscription museum), opened in January, 2000.
My curiosity piqued by now, I drove the 20 kilometers from my rural village to Villefranche and plunged into the origins of conscription and class parties via photos, films, songs and slogans.
“Most of these documents and pictures were provided by families from around here,” the curator proudly informed me.
Since its origin, military service has been considered a citizen’s fundamental debt. In 1688 Louis XIV saw the majority of Europe united against France and the system of ‘voluntary’ recruitment began. Abuses and complaints led to a royal decree instituting a system of lot drawing in 1692: a white note exempted a man from service, a black one signified enlistment. This system would be abolished and reintroduced several times during the 18th century until it remained intact for a hundred years from 1805 to 1905.
But why celebrate an event so linked with doom?
“Friendship, brotherhood, solidarity!” exclaimed the museum curator, leading me into the room specially reserved for the preservation of this tradition. To the casual observer this might seem rather a pompous motto for a group of fellows who simply want to celebrate together. However, these men are united not only by year of birth, but by extreme bonds of friendship and loyalty.
While some men rejoiced at the opportunity to serve La Belle France, others resorted to mysticism to avoid the bloodbath of war. His life dependent on a lottery, the conscript was obsessed with drawing a lucky number. So developed the practice of magic, incantations, pilgrimages and talismans.
In the Beaujolais region, the conscript had to attend Mass for three Fridays before the drawing of lots. This same day, between 11 p.m. and midnight, he visited the cemetery to plead his cause to the dead. Finally, on the day of lots drawing, he wore a snake skin under his jacket lining. The spirits appeased, he was sure of drawing a lucky number.
Failing sorcery, there was another option. In 1802, a conscript not wishing to place his life in the hands of the battlefield Gods could buy a replacement. Rich families would hire a substitute at the cost of four years’ salary. What a temptation for a poor farmer! Seedy, intermediary companies flourished and a veritable human traffic developed. In 1825, attempting to eradicate this trade, the law permitted exemption from service by payment of a sum to the army.
Further irony to the enlistment debate was the Conseil de Révision , or Review Council. If a man chose a lucky, or depending on personal opinion, unlucky number, this council was the next stage in army selection. It reviewed a recruit’s aptitude to carry arms. Socio-professional, anthropological and cultural features were scrupulously noted in a register. Conscription at twenty years became progressively synonymous with sexual relations and marriage, more so than the capacity to carry arms. ‘Good For The Service’ meant ‘Good For Marriage’.