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La Vendee by Anthony Trollope

A >> Anthony Trollope >> La Vendee




"Don't separate yourself from me, Henri!" said she; "don't let us be
separated in anything, even in thought; not but that I should be
delighted to see a dearer friendship between you and Marie, even than
that between Marie and myself; but don't plan any separate alliance for
me. I hope you have not been doing so--tell me, Henri, that you have
not." And then she added, blushing deeply up to her pale forehead, "You
have not proposed to Adolphe that I should be his wife?"

"No, Agatha, I have not proposed it to him; I should not have dreamt of
doing so, without knowing that it would not be disagreeable to you."

"There's my own dear brother! My own Henri!" said she, going over to
him, caressing him, and kissing his forehead.

"I will never make an offer of your hand to any one Agatha; you shall
choose for yourself; I will never cause you sorrow in that way: but I
will own, dearest, that I have wished you should marry Adolphe, and I
have also fancied that you loved him."

"No, Henri, no, I do not love him--I can never love him--that is, as my
husband. I do love him as your friend. I will continue to love him as
such, as long as he remains your friend."

"I fancied also," continued he; "nay, I did more than fancy--I am sure
he loves you--is it not so?"

"He has never told me so," said she, again blushing; "it is that he may
not tell me so, that I now say that I hope he is not returning. Oh,
Henri, my own dearest brother, do not let him come to Durbelliere;
prevent him in some way; go to him for a while; make some plan with him;
and give me warning when he is coming, and I will be at Clisson with
Marie."

"Will it not be better for both of you, Agatha, that you should
understand each other? I know he loves you, though he has not told me
so. You must tell him, kindly, that you cannot return his affection: you
cannot always run away from him."

"He will forget me soon. He will, at any rate, forget his love, when he
finds that I avoid his company; but, Henri, if he formally asks my hand,
and is refused, that he will neither forget nor forgive."

"He must take his chance, dearest, like other men."

"But he isn't like other men, Henri. You know he is--he is rather
impatient of refusal; he could not bear as well as some men any
mortification to his pride."

"I trust he has too much real pride to feel himself disgraced, because
he is not loved. I grieve for him, for I love him myself; and I know his
affections are strong; but I think it is better he should know the truth
at once, and it must be from your own lips. I cannot tell him you will
not accept him before he himself makes the offer."

Agatha did not reply; she could not explain even to her brother all that
she felt. She could not point out to him how very weak--how selfish his
friend was. She could not tell him that his bosom friend would suffer
ten times more from the wound to his pride in being rejected, than from
the effects of disappointed love; but she rightly judged her lover's
character. Adolphe Denot loved her as warmly as he was capable of loving
ought but himself; but were she to die, his grief would be very short
lived; he would not, however, endure to see that she preferred any one
to himself.

"I am sorry for this, Agatha--very sorry," continued her brother; "I had
fondly hoped to see you Adolphe's wife, but it is over now. I will never
press you against your will."

"My own Henri--how good you are to your Agatha. I knew you would not
torture me with a request that I should marry a man I did not love. I
grieve that I interfere with your plans; but I will live with you, and
be your old maid sister, and nurse and love your children, and they
shall love their old maid aunt."

"There are other men, Agatha, besides Adolphe. Perhaps your next request
will be a very different one; perhaps, then, you will be singing the
praises of some admirer, and asking me to give him a brother's place in
my heart."

"And when I ask it, you will do so; but Henri," and she put her hands
upon his shoulder, as she stood close to his chair, "don't let Adolphe
come here immediately."

"He must do so, dearest, now I think of it: we have other things to
think of besides ladies' hearts, and other matters to plan besides
wedding favours; the troops will be in Clisson on Monday next, to
collect the conscripts. I have promised to be with de Lescure, and
Adolphe is to meet me there; they are both then to come here. Not a man
shall be taken who does not choose to go; and there are not many who
wish to go from choice. There will be warm work in Poitou next week,
Agatha; few of us then can think of love or marriage. You and Marie will
be making sword-knots and embroidering flags; that will be your work.
A harder task will soon follow it--that of dressing wounds and
staunching blood. We shall have hot work, and more than plenty of it.
May God send us well through it."

"Amen; with all my heart I say, amen," said Agatha; "but will these poor
men resist the soldiers, Henri?"

"Indeed they will, Agatha."

"But can they? They have not arms, nor practice in the way of
fighting--they have no leaders."

"We will take arms from our enemies. We will be apt scholars in fighting
for our wives, and our sisters, and our houses. As for leaders, the man
who is most fit shall lead the others."

"And you, Henri--merciful Heaven! what are you about to do--will you
take up arms against the whole republic?"

"With God's blessing I will--against the whole republic."

"May the Lord, in his mercy, look on you and give you his assistance;
and as your cause is just and holy, He will do so. Whatever women can
do, we will do; you shall have our prayers for your success our tears
for your reverses, and our praises for your courage; and when you
require it, as some of you will too soon, our tenderest care in your
sufferings." At this moment Marie de Lescure entered the room. "Marie,"
continued Agatha, you will help to succour those who are wounded in
fighting for their King?"

"Indeed, and indeed I will," said the bright-eyed girl, eagerly, and
regret only that I cannot do more; that I cannot myself be in the
battle. But, M. Larochejaquelin, will the people rise? will there really
be fighting? will Charles be there?"

"Indeed he will, Marie; the first among the foremost. Agatha asked me
but now, who would be our leaders? Is there a man in the Bocage--aye,
in all Poitou, who will not follow Charles de Lescure?"

"May the blessed Saviour watch over him and protect him," said Marie,
shuddering.

"But tell me, Henri;" said Agatha, "where will it commence--where will
they first resist the troops?"

"I cannot say exactly," said he, "in many places at once I hope. In St.
Florent, they say, not a man will join; in Clisson and Torfou they begin
on Monday. Charles, and I, and Adolphe will be in Clisson. Father Jerome
has the whole lists; he says that in St. Laud's, in Echanbroignes, and
Clisson, they are ready, to a man, to oppose the troops: he will go with
me to Clisson on Sunday afternoon; on Monday, with God's will, we will
be in the thick of it"

"And will Father Jerome be there, among the soldiers "said Marie.

"Why not," said Henri, "will the peasants fight worse when they see
their priest before them?"

"And if he should fall?"

"He will fail in the service of his God and his King; Father Jerome will
be here himself tomorrow."

"The Cure of St Laud's," said Agatha, "is not the man to sit idle, when
good work is to be done, but, oh! what awful times are these, when the
priests themselves have to go out to fight for their altars and their
crucifix."

"I will return home with you, M Larochejaquelin, when you go to
Clisson," said Marie.

"And leave Agatha alone?" said Henri

"Don't mind me, Henri," said Agatha, "I shall be well here. Marie cannot
leave Madame de Lescure alone, when her husband is, away and in such
danger."

"You will soon have company here enough," said Henri. "De Lescure, and
I, and Adolphe, and Heaven knows whom besides. Charette will be in arms,
and d'Autachamps, the Prince de Talmont, and M. Bonchamps. At present
their business is at a distance from us; but we shall probably be all
brought together sooner or later, and they will all be welcome at
Durbelliere."

"They shall be welcome if they are friends of yours, and friends of the
King; but come, Marie, it is late, let us go to bed; next week, perhaps,
we shall be wanting rest, and unable to take it."

They met the next morning at breakfast, and the old Marquis was there
also, and the priest, to whom they had alluded in their conversation on
the preceding evening--Father Jerome, the Cure of St. Laud's--such at
least had he been, and so was he still called, though his parish had
been taken away from him, and his place filled by a constitutional
pastor; that is, by a priest who had taken the oath to the Constitution,
required by the National Assembly Father Jerome was banished from his
church, and deprived of the small emoluments of his office; but he was
not silenced, for he still continued to perform the ceremonies of his
religion, sometimes in some gentleman's drawing-room, sometimes in a
farmer's house, or a peasant's cottage, but oftener out in the open air,
under the shadow of a spreading beech, on a rude altar hastily built for
him with rocks and stones.

The church of St Laud's was perfectly deserted--not a single person
would attend there to hear mass said by the strange priest--the peasants
would as soon have been present at some infernal rite, avowedly
celebrated in honour of the devil--and yet the Cure newly sent there was
not a bad man But he was a constitutional priest, and that was enough
to recommend him to the ill-will of the peasantry In peaceable and happy
times, prior to the revolution, the Cure of St Laud's had been a
remarkable person, he was a man of more activity, both of mind and body,
than his brethren, he was more intimate with the gentry than the
generality of clergymen in the neighbourhood, and at the same time more
actively engaged in promoting the welfare of the poor. The country cures
generally were men who knew little of the world and its ways--who were
uneducated, save as regards their own profession--who had few ideas
beyond their own duties and station, This was not so with Father Jerome;
he had travelled and heard the ways of men in other countries; he had
not read much but he had seen a good deal, and he was a man of quick
apprehension--and above all a man of much energy. He had expressed great
hostility to the revolution since its commencement; at a time when so
few were hostile to it, he had foreseen that it would destroy the
religion and the religious feeling of the country, and he had constantly
besought his flock to remain true to their old customs. He was certainly
a devout man in his own way, though he was somewhat unscrupulous in his
devotions; the people were as superstitious as they were faithful, and
he never hesitated in using their superstition to forward his own views.
His whole anxiety was for their welfare; but he cherished their very
faults, their ignorance and their follies, to enable himself to serve
them in his own manner. He was unwilling that they should receive other
education than that which they now had--he was jealous of any one's
interfering with them but their landlord and himself. He would not own
that any change: could better their condition, or that anything more was
desirable for them than that they should live contented and obedient,
and die faithful in hope.

Durbelliere had not been in his parish, but he had always been
peculiarly intimate with the family of the Larochejaquelins, and had
warmly welcomed the return of Henri to the Bocage, at a time when so
many of the nobility were leaving the country. They were now about to
join hand and heart in saving the people from the horrors of the
conscription, and though the Cure's nominal mission was to be purely
spiritual, he was quite prepared to give temporal aid to his allies,
should it at any time appear expedient to himself to do so.

Father Jerome was a tall, well-made, brawny man; his face was not
exactly handsome, but it was bold and intellectual; his eye was bright
and clear, and his forehead high and open--he was a man of immense
muscular power and capable of great physical exertion--he was above
forty-five years of age but still apparently in the prime of his
strength. He wore a long rusty black, or rather grey cure's frock, which
fell from his shoulders down to his heels, and was fastened round his
body with a black belt--this garment was much the worse for wear, for
Father Jerome had now been deprived of his income for some twelve
months; but he was no whit ashamed of his threadbare coat, he rather
gloried in it, and could not be induced by the liberal offers of his
more wealthy friends to lay it aside.

Father Jerome greeted them all as he entered the breakfast-room. He was
received with great kindness by the old Marquis, who pressed his hand
and made him sit beside himself; he blessed the two young girls
fervently, and nodded affectionately to Henri, whom he had seen on the
preceding day. It was evident that the Cure of St. Laud's was quite at
home at Durbelliere.

"We have awful times coming on us now, Father Jerome," said Agatha.

"Not so, Mademoiselle," said the priest, "we have good times coming, we
will have a King and our Church again, we poor cure will have our homes
and our altars again; our own parishes and our old flocks."

"Come what, come may," said Henri, "we cannot be worse than the
Convention would make us."

"But we firmly trust that by God's will and with God's aid, we will soon
be rid of all our troubles," said the priest. "M le Marquis, we have
your best wishes, I know; and your full approval. I hope we shall soon
be able to lay our trophies at your feet."

"The approval of an old man like me is but of little avail; but you
shall have my prayers. I would, however, that God had spared me from
these days; it is grievous for me to see my son going out to fight
against his own countrymen, at his own door-sill; it would be more
grievous still, where he now to hesitate in doing so."

"No true son of Poitou hesitates now," said the enthusiastic priest.
"I yesterday saw every conscript in the parish of St. Laud's, and not
a single man hesitated--not one dreams of joining the republicans; and,
moreover, there is not an able-bodied man who will not come forward to
assist the conscripts in withstanding the soldiers; the women, too,
Mademoiselle, are equally eager. Barere will find it difficult, I think,
to raise a troop from Poitou."

"Will the conscripts from hence be required to join at Chatillon or at
Cholet?" said the old man.

"Those from St. Laud's, at Chatillon," said Henri; "but the men will not
leave their homes, they will know how to receive the soldiers if they
come amongst them."

So saying, he got up and went out, and the priest followed him; they had
much to do, and many things to arrange; to distribute arms and
gunpowder, and make the most of their little means. It was not their
present intention to lead the men from their homes, but they wished to
prepare them to receive the republican troops, when they came into the
country to enforce the collection of the republican levy.



CHAPTER IV

CATHELINEAU

The revolt of St. Florent took place on the day after that on which the
priest had breakfasted at Durbelliere, and the rumours of it went
quickly through the country. As Cathelineau had said, the news was soon
known in Nantes and Angers, and the commander of the republican troops
determined most thoroughly to avenge the insolence and rebellion of the
vain people of St. Florent. He was not, however, able to accomplish his
threat on the instant, for he also was collecting conscripts in the
neighbourhood of Nantes, and the peasantry had heard of the doings of
St. Florent as well as the soldiers, and the men of Brittany seemed
inclined to follow the example of the men of Anjou.

He had, therefore, for a time enough to occupy his own troops, without
destroying the rebels of St. Florent--and it was well for St. Florent
that it was so. Had he at once marched five hundred men, with four
pieces of cannon against the town, he might have reduced the place to
ashes, and taken a bloody revenge for their victory The men of St
Florent would have had no means of opposing such a force, and the
peasantry generally were not armed, the tactics of the royalists were
not settled, and the revolt through the province was not general. The
destruction of St Florent was postponed for a month, and at the
expiration of that time, the troops of the republic had too much to do,
to return to the little town where the war had commenced.

The rumour of what had been done at St. Florent, was also soon known in
Coron, in Torfou, and in Clisson. The battle was fought on Thursday, and
early on Saturday morning, M. de Lescure had heard some indistinct
rumour of the occurrence; indistinct at least it seemed to him, for he
could not believe that the success of the townspeople was so complete,
as it was represented to him to be; he heard at the same time that the
revolt had been headed by Cathelineau and Foret, and that as soon as the
battle was over, they had started for Durbelliere to engage the
assistance of Henri Larochejaquelin. De Lescure, therefore, determined
to go at once to Durbelliere; and Adolphe Denot, who was with him,
accompanied him.

They found Henri in the midst of his preparations, weighing out
gunpowder with the assistance of the priest and the two girls. There was
a large quarry on the Marquis' estate, and a considerable supply of
gunpowder for blasting had been lately brought to Durbelliere from
Nantes, as it could not be purchased in the neighbouring towns. As the
priest remarked, blasting powder was not the best, but it was good
enough to treat republicans with--at any rate they could get no better,
and it was lucky that they chanced to have that.

Charles de Lescure shuddered, as he. saw the dangerous employment on
which his sister was engaged; but Henri's sister was doing the same
thing, and he knew that dangerous times for all of them were coming.
Adolphe was disgusted that Agatha's white hands should be employed in
so vile a service, but he thought ittle of the danger to which she was
exposed.

"You are well employed, ladies," said de Lescure, "but not an hour too
soon. I am rejoiced to see you so well supplied, Henri; this is indeed
a Godsend. Father Jerome, is this strictly canonical; gunpowder I fear
is altogether a temporal affair".

"But rebellion and hell-fire are synonomous," said the priest, "and
loyalty is the road to Paradise. I am strictly within my calling, M. de
Lescure. Mademoiselle, these packets are too large. You are giving too
good measure. Remember how many are the claimants for our bounty."

"You have, of course, all heard what occurred at St. Florent the day
before yesterday," said de Lescure.

"Not a word," said Henri. "What happened there? we hear nothing here
till a week after it is known in the towns."

They all left off what they were doing, and listened anxiously for M.
de Lescure's tidings. "Good news, I trust," said the Cure, whose face
showed a fearful degree of anxiety. "Good news, I trust in God; the men
of St. Florent, I am sure, have not disgraced themselves."

"Indeed, they have not, Father Jerome. If. the half of what I hear be
true, they have already played a grand part. What I hear is this--not
a conscript was to be seen at the barracks when they were summoned.
Three or four soldiers were sent to commence the collection in the town,
and they were at once taken prisoners by a party headed by Cathelineau,
the postillion. The Colonel then turned out, and fired on the crowd; but
he could not stand his ground before the people, who drove him back to
the barracks; half his men were killed in retreating. The people then
attacked the barracks, and regularly carried them by storm; took the
cannon which was with the detachment, and made prisoners of every
soldier that was not killed in the fray. If the half of it be true, St.
Florent has made a fine beginning for us."

"Glorious fellows!" said Adolphe. "What would I not give to have been
with them?"

"You will have plenty of opportunity, M. Denot," said the priest, who
held Adolphe in great aversion.

"But, Charles, the carnage of the people must have been dreadful," said
Henri; "they had nothing but their hands and nails to fight with,
against the muskets and bayonets of the soldiers--against artillery
even."

"The Lord supplied them with weapons, my son," said the priest,
solemnly. "Cannot He, who has given them courage and good hearts to
stand against the enemies of their country, also give them weapons to
fight his battles?"

"They say, too, that by some miracle the cannon could not be got to fire
on the town. They say it was loaded and ready, but that the powder
would not ignite when the torch was put to it," said de Lescure.

"They say," added Denot, "that the Colonel himself repeatedly tried to
fire it, but could not; and that when he found that Providence,
interfered for the people, he laid down his sword, and gave himself up."

"The man who came to me from the town," continued de Lescure, "had a
thousand wonderful stories. He says, that twenty times in the day
Cathelineau stood, unharmed before the bayonets of the soldiers; that
twenty times he was shot at, but it was impossible to wound him. They
say that God has interfered for the protection of St. Florent."

"Most probable," said the priest, "most probable; for who, my children,
shall attempt to judge the ways of God? Why should He not put out his
right hand to assist his own?"

"And were there not many of the townspeople killed?" asked Agatha.

"We did not hear," replied de Lescure; "but the news of their triumph
would travel faster than the account of their misfortunes; there could
not but have been much bloodshed."

"After all," said Henri, "we do not know how much of this is true. We
must not believe it all; it is too glorious to be true."

"Do not say so, M. Larochejaquelin," said the priest, "do not say so;
we will do greater things than that with the assistance of God and the
blessed Virgin; but we will not envy the men of St. Florent the honour
they have won."

"You believe it all, then, Father Jerome," said Marie. "You believe that
the republicans have been beaten."

"Every word, Mademoiselle, every word religiously. I should be a heathen
else, or worse than that, a republican."

The group who were discussing the probability of the victory said to
have been gained at St. Florent, were standing at the window of one of
the front rooms of the chateau, which looked immediately on one of the
whitewashed recumbent lions, and from it they could see the wooden
gates, the lodge, and the paved road which ran from Chatillon to Vihiers
in front of the chateau. As the priest finished speaking, three men rode
through the gates, into the avenue, directly up to the house-door: one
was tolerably well mounted on a large horse, the second was on a shaggy
pony, and the third, who was rather behind the others, was seated on a
mule of most unprepossessing appearance, whose sides he did not for a
moment cease to lacerate with his heels, to enable himself to keep up
with his companions.

"That is Foret, from St. Florent himself!" shouted the priest, rushing
out towards the door, as soon as he saw the first horseman turn in at
the gate; "a good man, and true as any living, and one who hates a
skulking republican as he does the devil."

"And that is the postillion himself, on the pony!" shouted Henri,
running after him. "I could swear to him, by his hat, among a thousand."

"Who is the man on the mule, Adolphe?" said de Lescure, remaining at the
window. "By the bye," he added, turning to the two girls who remained
with him, and who were trembling in every joint, at they knew not what,
"I forgot, in my hurry, or rather I hadn't time as yet to tell Henri
that I had heard that these men were coming here."

"Are those the very men who gained the victory at St. Florent?" asked
Marie.

"So we heard," replied de Lescure, "and now, and not till now, I believe
it; their coming here is strong confirmation; the Cure is right, it
seems."

"And is that man the good postillion of whom the people talk?"

"He is--at least he is no longer a postillion. He will cease to be a
postillion now; from henceforth he will be only a soldier."

The Cure and Larochejaquelin had rushed down the steps, and seized the
hands of Foret and Cathelineau, as they got off their horses. It was
soon evident to them that the noise of their deeds had gone before them.
Foret at once returned the greeting of Father Jerome, for they had long
known each other, and the difference between their stations was not so
very great; but Cathelineau hardly knew how to accept, or how to refuse,
the unwonted mark of friendship shewn him by a wealthy seigneur; it had
not been his lot to shake hands with gentlemen, and he had no wish to
step beyond his proper sphere, because he had been put prominently
forward in the affair of St. Florent; but he had no help for it; before
he knew where he was, Larochejaquelin had got him by the hand, and was
dragging him into the salon of Durbelliere. It appeared to the
postillion that the room was full; there were ladies there too--young,
beautiful, and modest--such as he was in the habit of seeing through the
windows of the carriages which he drove; the old Marquis was there too
now; the butler had just wheeled in his chair, and Cathelineau perceived
that he was expected to join the group at once. A vista was opened for
him up to the old man's chair; his eyes swam, and he hardly recollected
the faces of the different people round him. He wished that he had
waited at the gate, and sent in for M. Henri; he could have talked to
him alone. Why had he ridden up so boldly to the chateau gate? He had
never trembled, for a moment, during the hot work at St. Florent, but
now he felt that circumstances could almost make him a coward.

Murder One closing so did we commit this crime?

Barack Obama is teaming up with Spider-Man in a new comic from Marvel, which will see the future president exchanging a fist-bump with Peter Parker's alter ego.

The five-page story takes place in Washington DC on inauguration day, when one of Spidey's oldest enemies, the Chameleon, attempts to stop Obama's swearing-in ceremony. Fortunately, Peter Parker is covering the event as a photographer, and jumps in to save the day.

"Ya hear that, Chameleon? The president-elect here just appointed me ... secretary of shuttin' you up," Spider-Man says as he thwacks the Chameleon in the face. "I hope this doesn't ruin the inauguration for you," he tells Obama, as the Chameleon is led away by security officials. "Honestly, I'm more upset by the Chameleon's shockingly deficient understanding of the electoral process," Obama replies.

Spidey then cedes the limelight to Obama. "This is your day, after all, and I know it wouldn't look good to be seen palling around with me," he says, in a nod to Sarah Palin's comment that the then presidential candidate had been "palling around with terrorists".

The story, written by Zeb Wells and illustrated by Todd Nauck and Frank D'Armata, will appear as a bonus feature in Amazing Spider-Man 583, which goes on sale on 14 January.

"When we heard that president-elect Obama is a collector of Spider-Man comics, we knew that these two historic figures had to meet in our comics' Marvel Universe," said Marvel's editor-in-chief Joe Quesada. "A Spider-Man fan moving into the Oval Office is an event that must be commemorated in the pages of Amazing Spider-Man."

In October, graphic novel biographies of Obama and his then rival John McCain were published by IDW. April will see Michelle Obama appearing in the Female Force comic book series.

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