CHAPTER VI.
RECRUITING.
On the Monday following the meeting at Durbelliere, Larochejaquelin,Denot, the Cure of St. Laud, Foret and Cathelineau joined M. de Lescureat Clisson, and on the day afterwards, the soldiers of the Republic,when attempting to collect the conscripts at a small town near Clisson,were resisted and treated as they had been at St. Florent. There was notquite so much of a battle, for the officer in command knew what waslikely to occur, and not having received any reinforcement of troops,thought it advisable to give in early in the day, and capitulate withthe honours of war. He was allowed to march his men out of the town,each man having stipulated that he would not again serve in anydetachment sent into La Vendee for the collection of conscripts; butthey were not allowed to take their arms with them, muskets, bayonets,and gunpowder being too valuable to the insurgents to be disregarded.So the soldiers marched unarmed to Nantes, and from thence returned,before two months were over, in spite of the promises they had given,and requited the mercy of the Vendeans with the most horrid cruelties.
The people were equally triumphant in many other towns. In Beauprieu,Coron, Chatillon, and other places, the collection of conscripts wasopposed successfully, and generally speaking, without much bloodshed.In Coron, the military fired on the people, and killed three or four ofthem, but were ultimately driven out, In Beauprieu, they gave up theirarms at once, and marched out of the place. In Chatillon, they attemptedto defend the barracks, but they found, when too late, that they had nota single day's provisions; and as the townspeople also knew this, theywere at no pains to besiege the stronghold of the soldiers. They knewthat twenty-four hours would starve them out. As it was, the lieutenantin command gave up, half an hour after his usual dinner time.
These things all occurred within a week of the revolt at St. Florent.Beauprieu and Chatillon were carried on the Wednesday. Coron wasvictorious on the Thursday; and on the Friday following, a strongdetachment of soldiers marched out of Cholet, of their own accord,without attempting to collect their portion of the levy, and crossed theriver Loire, at the Pont de Ce, thus retreating from La Vendee.
These triumphs inspired the insurgents with high hopes of futurevictories; they gave them the prestige of success, made them confidentin the hour of battle, and taught them by degrees to bear, undaunted,the fire of their enemies. The officers of the Republic were mostinjudicious in allowing their enemies to gather head as they did; hadthey brought a really formidable force of men, in one body, into theprovince of Anjou, immediately upon the revolt of St. Florent, theymight doubtless have driven the Vendeans, who were then unarmed andundisciplined, back to their farms; but they affected to despise them,they neglected to take vigorous measures, till the whole country was inarms; and they then found that all the available force which they wereenabled to collect, was insufficient to quell the spirit, or daunt thepatriotism of the revolted provinces.
Towards the end of April, the first attempt was made by the Vendeanchiefs to collect a body of men under arms, and to put them into motion,for the purpose of performing service at a distance from their ownhomes; and though considerable difficulty was felt in inducing them tofollow the standards, their first attempts were successful. In the earlypart of May, they altogether succeeded in driving the soldiers out ofThouars. A few days later, they did the same at Fontenay, though herethey met with a violent opposition, and much blood was shed. At thesetwo latter places, the cannon which Cathelineau had taken in so gallanta manner at St. Florent, was brought into action, and quite supportedits character as a staunch royalist. At Fontenay, with its aid, theytook three or four other pieces of cannon, but none which they prizedas they did Marie Jeanne. It was universally credited among thepeasantry, that at Cathelineau's touch, this remarkable piece ofartillery had positively refused to discharge itself against theVendeans; and their leaders certainly were at no pains to disabuse themof a belief which contributed so strongly to their enthusiasm.
Some of the more astute among the people had certainly thought for awhile that the cannon was a humbug, that it was useless either toroyalist or to republican, in fact, that it would never go off at all.But these sceptics were cured of their infidelity at Thouars, when theysaw the soldiers as well as the republicans of the town fall in heapsbeneath the thunders of Marie Jeanne.
During April and the three weeks of May, Larochejaquelin and de Lescure,together with Cathelineau, Denot, and M. Bonchamps, were activelyengaged in collecting and exhorting the people, planning what theyshould do, and preparing themselves to bear that burst of republicanfury which they knew would, sooner or later, fall upon them.
Much of this time was spent at Clisson, as that place was centricallysituated for their different manoeuvres; and there certainly appearedreason to suppose that Madame de Lescure was not altogether wrong in hersurmises respecting Marie. Here also, at Clisson, Cathelinean frequentlyjoined the party, and though he shewed by his language and demeanourthat he had not forgotten that he was a postillion, he graduallyacquired a confidence and ease of manner among his new associates, anddisplayed a mixture of intelligence and enthusiasm, which induced hisconfederates generally to acknowledge his voice as the first in theircouncils.
They were occasionally at Durbelliere; but there Cathelineau was againabashed and confused. He could not calmly endure the quiet lovelinessof Agatha's face, or the sweet music of her voice. He himself felt thathis brain was not cool when there; that his mind was gradually teachingitself to dwell on subjects, which in his position would be awfullydangerous to him. He never owned to himself that he was in love with thefair angel, whom he considered as much above him as the skies are abovethe earth; but he would walk for hours through those eternal paths inthe chateau garden, regardless of the figures, regardless of the variousturns and twists he took, dreaming of the bliss of being beloved by sucha woman as Agatha Larochejaquelin. He built for himself splendid castlesin the air, in which he revelled day after day; and in these dreams healways endowed himself with that one gift which no talents, no courage,no success could give him--high birth and noble blood, for he stronglyfelt that without these, no one might look up to the goddess of hisidolatry; it was his delight to imagine to himself with what ecstasy hewould receive from her lips the only adequate reward of his patriotism;he would quicken his pace with joy as he dreamt that he heard her sweetvoice bidding him to persevere, and then he would return to her afterhard fighting, long doubtful but victorious battles, and lay at her feethonours worthy of her acceptance.
It can hardly be said that he himself was the hero of his own reveries;he was assured beyond the shadow of a doubt, that the proud happinesswhich he pictured to his imagination was as much beyond his own reach,as though his thoughts were turned on some celestial being. No, it wasa creation of his brain, in which he dwelt awhile, till his own stronggood sense reminded him that he had other work before him than theindulgence in such dreams, and he determined that he would be atDurbelliere as little as was possible.
It was singular though, that he contrived, while his imagination wasthus rambling, to mingle in his thoughts the actual and the ideal. Therevolt of La Vendee, the struggle of his brother royalists for therestoration of their King; the annihilation of republicanism, andre-establishment of the old clergy, were still the subjects of hismeditations; and the bold plans which his mind then suggested to him,were those which were afterwards put into effect.
He still insisted on attacking the strongly fortified citadel of Saumur,and after their success at Fontenay, the chiefs agreed at once to makearrangements for that great undertaking. The tenth of June was settledon as the day on which the attack should be commenced, and their utmostefforts in the mean time were to be employed in raising recruits, armingand drilling them, and collecting ammunition and stores of warsufficient for so serious an operation.
For this purpose Cathelineau returned for a while to St. Florent. M.Charette was requested to bring up all the men he could collect from theMarais, a part of La Vendee which lies close upon the s
ea. M. Bonchampswas invited to join them from Angers. De Lescure returned to Fontenay,to ask the assistance of those who had been so successful there againstthe republicans; while Henri Larochejaquelin, was left at home in theBocage, to secure the services of every available man from everyvillage.
He had two comrades with him in his recruiting party; and though theywere of very different characters, they were almost equally serviceable.One was his friend and priest, the Cure of St. Laud, and the other washis servant, Jacques Chapeau. The Cure had no scrupulous compunction inusing his sacerdotal authority as a priest, when the temporal influenceof Larochejaquelin, as landlord, was insufficient to induce a countrymanto leave his wife and home to seek honour under the walls of Saumur. Thepeasants were all willing to oppose the republican troops, should theycome into their own neighbourhood to collect conscripts; they were readyto attack any town where republican soldiers were quartered, providingthey were not required to go above a day's march from their own homes;but many objected to enrol themselves for any length of time, to bindthemselves as it were to a soldier's trade, and to march under arms toperform service at a distance from their farms, which to them seemedconsiderable. With such men as these, and with their wives and sisters,Henri argued, and used his blandest eloquence, and was usuallysuccessful; but when he failed, the Cure was not slow in having recourseto the irresistable thunders of the church.
No one could have been fitter for the duties of a recruiting-sergeantthan Jacques Chapeau; and to his great natural talents in that line, headded a patriotic zeal, which he copied from his master. No one couldbe more zealous in the service of the King, and for the glory of LaVendee, than was Jacques Chapeau. Jacques had been in Paris with hismaster, and finding that all his fellow-servants in the metropolis wereadmirers of the revolution, he had himself acquired a strongrevolutionary tendency. His party in Paris had been the extremeUltra-Democrats: he had been five or six times at the Jacobins, threeor four times at the Cordeliers; he had learnt to look on a lamp-ropeas the proper destination of an aristocrat, and considered himself equalto anybody, bu his master, and his master's friends. On Henri's returnto La Vendee, he had imbued himself with a high tone of loyalty, withoutany difficulty or constraint on his feelings; indeed, he was probablyunaware that he had changed his party: he had an appetite for strongpolitics, was devotedly attached to his master, and had no prudentialmisgivings whatsoever. He had already been present at one or two affairsin which his party had been victorious, and war seemed to him twice moreexciting, twice more delightful than the French Opera, or even theJacobin Clubs.
Jacques Chapeau was about five years older than his master, and was asactive and well made a little Frenchman, as ever danced all night at aball outside the barriers of Paris. He was a light-hearted andkind-hearted creature, although he always considered it necessary tohave mortal enemies--horrid, blasphemous, blood-thirsty fellows, mendevoid of feeling, without faith, hope, or charity, who would willinglyslaughter women and children for the mere pleasure of doing so. Such,in Chapeau's imagination, were all his enemies--such had been thearistocrats during the time of his revolutionary fervour--such now werethe republicans. Chapeau loved his own side truly and faithfully,without any admixture of self in his calculations, but I certainlycannot say for him that he was a good Christian, for all the clergymenin Anjou could not have taught him to love his enemies.
On a beautiful summer's morning, on the 2nd of June, this remarkablerecruiting party rode from Durbelliere to the little village ofEchanbroignes; the distance was about four leagues, and their road lay,the whole way, through the sweet green leafy lanes of the Bocage. Theaspect of this province is very singular, and in summer most refreshing.The country is divided into small farms, which are almost entirelyoccupied with pasture; the farms are again divided into small fields,and each field is surrounded by a belt of trees, growing out of high,green, flowering hedges. The face of the country is like a thicklywooded demesne, divided and subdivided into an infinity of littlepaddocks. The narrow lanes of the country, which are barely broad enoughfor the wheels of a carriage, and are seldom visited by such a vehicle,lie between thick, high hedges, which completely overshadow them; thewayfarer, therefore, never has before him that long, straight, tedious,unsightly line of road, which adds so greatly to the fatigue oftravelling in an open country, and is so painful to the eye.
Through such a lane as this our party rode quickly and cheerily;quickly, for they had much work before them for that day; and cheerily,for they knew that the people among whom they were going would join themwith enthusiasm. They were all well mounted, for they rode the besthorses from the stables of Durbelliere: the old Marquis would haveblushed to have given less than the best to the service of his King.
Chapeau was peculiarly elated at the prospect of his day's work; but hisjoy was not wholly professional; for Jacques now accounted himself asoldier by profession. He had another reason for the more than ordinarygaiety with which he trotted on towards Echanbroignes. There was therea certain smith, named Michael Stein, who had two stalwart sons, whomJacques burnt to enrol in his loyal band of warriors; this smith hadalso one daughter, Annot Stein, who, in the eyes of Jacques Chapeau,combined every female charm; she was young and rosy; she had soft hairand bright eyes; she could dance all night, and was known to possess inher on right some mysterious little fortune, left to her by nobody knewwhat grandfather or grandmother, and amounting, so said report, to thecomfortable sum of five hundred francs. When Chapeau had risen to somehigh military position, a field-marshal's baton, or the gold-laced capof a serjeant-major, with whom could he share his honours better thanwith his dear little friend, Annot Stein? Jacques wanted her advice uponthis subject, and he therefore rejoiced greatly that the path of dutywas leading him this morning to Echanbroignes.
"We may be sure, Father Jerome," said Henri, "of those men from St.Michael?"
"Of every man. You will find there will not be a defaulter."
"God send it; one traitor makes many, as sheep follow each other througha hedge row."
"Do not fear them, my son. Father Francois has the list of them; he willhave every man collected by daylight on the 7th, and he will come onwith them himself as far as the cross-roads; they will there meet my ownchildren from St. Laud."
"There were to be one hundred and seventy-five from St. Michael."
"Yes; and one hundred and forty from St. Laud; and thirty will havejoined us from Petit Ange de Poitou before we reach the turn from St.Michael."
"And have you positively determined you will start with them from St.Laud's yourself, Father Jerome."
"With God's will, my son, I most assuredly shall do so; and from thatto the walls of Saumur, they shall see before them my tattered Cure'sfrock, and the blessed symbol of their hope. I will carry the crossbefore them from the porch of the little church which shall once morebe my own, till I plant it on the citadel of Saumur beside the standardof the King."
"Oh! if we had a few more Father Jeromes!" said Henri.
"There might perhaps be more soldiers in La Vendee than at present; butperhaps also there would be fewer Christians," said the priest. "May Godforgive me if, in my zeal for my King, I am too remiss in His service."
They rode on a little way in silence, for Father Jerome felt a slightqualm of conscience at his warlike proceedings, and Henri did not liketo interrupt his meditations; but the Cure soon recovered himself.
"I shall have a goodly assemblage of followers," said he, "before Ireach Coron. Those from Echanbroignes will join us half-a-mile from thetown. There will be above two hundred from Echanbroignes."
"Will there? So many as that, think you?"
"They will muster certainly not short of two hundred. Near seven hundredmen will follow me into Coron on the evening of the 7th."
"They will find provisions there in plenty--meat, bread, and wine. Theyare not used to lie soft; they will not grumble at having clean strawto sleep on."
"They shall grumble at nothing, my friend; if your care can supp
ly themwith food, well; if not, we will find bread enough among the townsfolk.There is not a housewife in Coron, who would refuse me the contents ofher larder."
"The bullocks are ready for the butcher's axe in the stalls atDurbelliere, please your reverence," said Chapeau, who rode near enoughto his master to take a part in the conversation as occasion offered."And the stone wine-jars are ready corked. Momont saw to the latter parthimself. May the saints direct that the drinking have not the sameeffect upon our friends that the corking had on Momont, or there willbe many sick head-aches in Coron on the next morning."
"There will be too many of us for that, Jacques. Five hundred throatswill dispose of much good wine, so as to do but little injury."
"That would be true, your reverence, were not some throats so much widerthan others. You will always see that one porker half empties the troughbefore others have moistened their snouts in the mess."
"We will see to that, Jacques. We will appoint some temperate fellowbutler, or rather some strong-fisted fellow, whose thick head much winewill not hurt; though he may swill himself he will not let others doso."
"If it were not displeasing to yourself and to M. Henri, I wouldundertake all that myself. Each man of the five hundred should have hisown share of meat and drink at Coron, and the same again at Doue."
"Will not Jacques be with you?" said the priest, turning round to Henri."What should bring him to Coron among my men?"
"He says he has friends here in Echanbroignes, and he has begged thathe may be here with them on the evening of the 6th, so as to accompanythem into Coron on the 7th. We shall all meet at Doue on the 8th."
"I was thinking, your reverence, if any here were loiterers, as theremay be some, I fear; or if there should be any ill inclined to leavetheir homes, my example might encourage them. I have a liking for thevillage, and I should feel disgraced were a single able-bodied man tobe found near it after the morning of the 7th."
"I trust they will not need any one to remind them of their promise,when they have once pledged themselves to the service of their King,"said the priest. "However, you will be, doubtless, useful to me atCoron. But, Henri, what will you do without him?"
"Adolphe and I will be together, and will do well. We shall have anabsolute barrack at Durbelliere. We shall have above one hundred men inthe house. Agatha and the women are at work night and day."
"You have the worst part of the whole affair--the ammunition."
"It is all packed and ready for the carts; a few days since the cellarswere half-full of the lead and iron, which we have been casting; theyare now, I trust, half-way to Saumur, under Foret's care."
"How many men has he with him?" asked the priest.
"He has all the men from Clisson, from St. Paul's and St. Briulph's--except a few of Charles' own tenants, who went on forward to join him atDoue, and who have our supply of flags with them, made in the chateau atClisson. Madame de Lescure and poor Marie have worked their fingers tothe bone."
"God bless them! God will bless them, for they are working in the spiritwhich he loves."
"Agatha and Annette, between them, have packed nearly every ounce ofgunpowder," said Henri, who could not help boasting of his sister."Night and day they have been handling it without regarding for a momentthe destruction which the slightest accident might bring upon them."
"It is that spirit, my son, which will enable us to beat twice our ownstrength in numbers, and ten times our own strength in arms anddiscipline How many men has Foret with him?"
"Above six hundred. I do not know his exact numbers," said Henri.
"And you, yourself?"
"I shall muster a thousand strong, that is for a certainty; I believeI shall be nearer twelve thousand."
"Let me see--that will be, say two thousand five hundred from theBocage."
"Oh! more than that your reverence," said Chapeau, "you are not countingM. de Lescure's men, who have gone on with the flags--or the men fromBeauprieu who will follow M. d'Elbee, or the men from St. Florent, whowill come down with Cathelineau."
"I don't count Beauprieu, or Cholet or St. Florent; there will be twothousand five hundred from our own country, out of three thousand threehundred male adults, that is three men, Henry, out of every four--theycannot at any rate say that the spirit of the people is not with us."
As the priest spoke, they rode into the street of the little village ofEchanbroignes, and having stopped at the door of the Mayor's house,Henri and the Cure dismounted, and giving their horses up to Jacques,warmly greeted that worthy civic authority, who came out to meet them.
The appointment of a mayor in every village in France, had been enjoinedat an early time in the revolution, and after the death of the King,these functionaries were, generally speaking, strong republicans; butthe Vendeans in opposition to the spirit of the revolution, hadpersisted in electing the Seigneurs, wherever they could get a Seigneurto act as mayor; and, where this was not the case, some person in theimmediate employment of the landlord was chosen. This was the case atEchanbroignes, where the agent or intendant of the proprietor was mayor.He expected the visit which was now paid to him, and having twenty timesexpressed his delight at the honour which was done him, he got his hatand accompanied his visitors to the door of the church, where with hisown hands he commenced a violent assault on the bell-rope, which hungdown in the middle of the porch.
He was ringing the tocsin, which was to call together the people of thevillage. They also very generally knew who was coming among them on thatday, and the purpose for which they were corning; and at the first soundof the bell, all such as intended to shew themselves, came crowding onto the little space before the church; it was but few who remained athome, and they were mostly those to whom home at the present moment waspeculiarly sweet; one or two swains newly married, or just about to bemarried; one or two fathers, who could hardly bring themselves in thesedangerous times to leave their little prattling children, and one or twowho were averse to lose the profits of their trade.
In spite of the speedy appearance of his townspeople, the Mayorpersisted in his operations on the bell-rope until the perspiration randown his face. He was sounding the tocsin, and he felt the importanceof what he was doing. Every one knew that a tocsin bell to be duly rung,should be rung long and loud--not with a little merry jingle, such asbefitted the announcement of a wedding, but in a manner to strikeastonishment, if not alarm, into its hearers; and on this occasion greatjustice was done to the tocsin.
"That will do, M. Mayor; that will do, I think!" said the Cure, "itlooks to me as though our friends were all here."
The Mayor gave an awful pull, the bell leapt wildly up, gave one loudconcluding flourish, and then was quiet.
"Now, M. Mayor," said the Cure, "you have by heart the few words I gaveyou, have you not?"
"Indeed, Father Jerome, I have," said the Mayor, "and am not likely toforget them. Let me see--let me see. Now, my friends, will you be quieta moment while I speak to you. Ambrose Corvelin, will you hold yournoisy tongue awhile--perhaps M. de Larochejaquelin, I had better get upon the wall, they will hear me better?"
"Do, M. Mayor, do," said Henri; and the Mayor was lifted on to the lowwall which ran round the churchyard, and roared out the following words,at the top of his voice:
"In the holy name of God, and by command of the King, this parish ofEchanbroignes is invited to send as many men as possible to Saumur, tobe there, or at any other such place in the neighbourhood as may beappointed, at three o'clock on the afternoon of the 9th of June. And mayGod defend the right. Amen!" And having said this, the Mayor jumped offthe wall, and the crowd commenced shouting and cheering.
"Wait one moment, and hear me say a few words, my friends," said Henri,springing to the place which the Mayor had just left. "Most of you, Ibelieve, know who I am."
"We do, M Henri," said they. "We do, M. Larochejaquelin. We all know whoyou are. We know that you are our friend."
"I am very glad you think so," continued he; "for you will know, that
if I am your friend, I shall not deceive you. I have come here to askyou to share with me the honour and the danger of restoring his father'skingdom and his father's throne to the son of your murdered King. I havecome here to ask you also to assist me and others, who are your friends,in protecting yourselves, your pastors, your houses, your wives anddaughters, from the tyranny and cruelty of the republicans."
"We will!" shouted the crowd. "We will go at once. We will be at Saumuron Wednesday. We will follow M. Larochejaquelin wherever he would leadus."
"You all know Cathelineau," continued Henri; "you all know the goodpostillion of St. Florent?"
"We do, God bless him! we do. We all know the Saint of Anjou."
"Come and meet him, my friends, under the walls of Saumur; or rather,I should say, come and meet him within the walls of Saumur. Come andgreet the noble fellows of St. Florent, who have set us so loyal anexample. Come and meet the brave men of Fontenay, who trampled on thedirty tricolour, and drove out General Coustard from his covert, likea hunted fox. He is now at Saumur; we will turn him out from thence."
"We will! we will! We will hang up Coustard by the heels."
"We will strip him rather of his spurs and his epaulettes, of his swordand blue coat, and send him back to the Convention, that they may seewhat will become of the heroes, whom they send to seek for glory in LaVendee. Thanks, my friends; thanks for your kindness. I will lead youto no dangers which I will not share with you. You shall suffer nohardship of which I will not partake. I will look for no glory in whichyou shall not be my partners."
During the time that the Mayor had been giving his invitation to thepeople, and Henri had been speaking to them, Father Jerome had beenbusily employed with Jacques Chapeau over six or seven little listswhich he held in his hand. These were lists of the names of able-bodiedmen, which had been drawn out by the Cure of the parish, and Jacques hadalready marked those of one or two whom he had found to be absent, andamong them the names of Michael Stems' two stalwart sons. Father Jeromeagain handed the lists to Jacques, and as Henri descended from the wall,amid the greeting of the populace, he ascended it, and gave them alittle clerical admonition.
"My children," said he, "it delights my heart to find that so few of youare absent from us this morning--from the whole parish there are butfive, I believe, who have not readily come forward to proclaim theirzeal for their God, their King, and their Church: those five, I doubtnot, will be here when we proceed to check the names. Let it not be saidthat there was one recreant in Echanbroignes--one man afraid to answerwhen called for by his country. Is there danger in the bloody battle wehave before us?--let us all share it, and it will be lighter. Is it agrievous thing for you to leave your wives and your children?--let noman presume to think that he will be happier than his neighbours, forthat man shall assuredly be the most miserable. It is possible that someof you may leave your bodies beneath the walls of Saumur, be it so; willyou complain because the Creator may require from some of you the lifewhich he has given? Is it not enough for you to know, that he who fallsfighting with this blessed symbol before his eyes, shall that night restamong the angels of Heaven?" and the Cure held up on high, above thepeople, a huge cross, which he had had brought to him out of the church."God has blessed you, my children, in giving you the sacred privilegeof fighting in His cause. You would indeed be weak--senseless as thebrutes--unfeeling as the rocks--aye, impious as the republicans, had younot replied to the summons as you have done; but you have shown that youknow your duty. I see, my children, that you are true Vendeans. I blessyou now, and on tomorrow week, I will be among you before the walls ofSaumur."
Having finished speaking, the priest also jumped off the wall, and againthe people shouted and cheered. And now they went to work with thelists: Henri, the Mayor, and the Cure each took a pencil, and called thenames of the different men, as they were written down. There was ofcourse much delay in getting the men as they were called; but Chapeauhad sworn in three or four assistants, and he and they dived in amongthe crowd, hurried this way and that, and shouted, screamed, andscreeched with great effect. The lists were made out with some regardto the localities; the men from the lower end of the village were to goto Henri's side; those from the northern part to Father Jerome's table;and the inhabitants of the intermediate village were checked off by theMayor. Chapeau and his friends were most diligent in marshalling them;to be sure, Jacques knew the names of but few of them; but he made themtell him whether they were villagers, northerns, or lower-end men; andthough the men in many instances couldn't answer this themselves, thedivisions were effected, the names of all were called over, those whowere there were checked off and informed what was expected of them, andwhere and by whom arms would be supplied to them: and those who were notthere became the unhappy victims of a black list.
Father Jerome, when he said that there were only five absent, wassomething but not much out in his reckoning: his object, however, hadbeen to make the people think that he knew exactly who was there, andwho was not there; and in this he was successful. During the calling ofthe lists, one or two stragglers dropped in who hoped to escapedetection: respecting a few others, some good ground of excuse wasalleged; but on this head the Cure was most severe: he would accept noplea but that of absolute downright sickness, and of this he requiredto have most ample testimony--even Henri sometimes pleaded for thepeople, but unsuccessfully. The Republic by their proscription wouldhave decimated the men; the Cure of St. Laud insisted on taking themall.
The houses of those who had not presented themselves were to be visited,and the two first on the list were Jean and Peter Stein.
"Jean and Peter Stein," said Henri. "Why, Jacques, are they not friendsof yours? are they not sons of Michael Stein, the smith?"
"Quiet, M. Henri; pray be quiet for a moment, and I will explain."
"Are they not strong, active lads," said the Cure, turning somewhatangrily on Chapeau, as though he were responsible for the principles ofhis friends.
"They are, they are, your reverence, fine strong active lads as you everlaid your eyes on."
"And they are afraid to carry a musket for their king?"
"Not a bit, Father Jerome, not a bit afraid; nor yet unwilling, M.Henri. I will explain it all; only let us be a little by ourselves."
"There is a mystery, Father Jerome," said Henri, "and Chapeau must havehis own way in explaining it."
"Exactly, M. Henri; I will explain all." By this time he had got thepriest and his master somewhat out of the crowd. "You see, M. Henri,there are not two young men in the Bocage more determined to fight forthe good cause this moment, than Jean and Peter Stein."
"Why, Jacques, I do not see it yet, certainly."
"Oh! Sir, it's a fact; they are dying to have a musket in their hands.I pledge for them my word of honour," and Jacques laid his hand upon hisheart. "You will find they are with me, your reverence, when I meet youat the cross-roads, within half a mile of Coron, on Monday morning. But,M. Henri, they have a father."
"Have a father!" said the Cure, "of course they have."
"You don't mean to tell me that Michael Stein, the smith, is arepublican?"
"A republican!" said Jaques. "Oh! no, the heavens preserve us, he'snothing so bad as that, or his own son wouldn't remain under his roofanother night, or his daughter either. No; Annot wouldn't remain withhim another hour, were he twenty times her father, if he turnedrepublican."
"Why does he prevent his sons joining the muster, then?" said Henri.
"He is very fond of money, M. Henri. Old Michael Stein is very fond ofmoney; and every one in the country who owns a franc at all, is buyingan old sword or a gun, or turning a reaping-hook into a sabre, orgetting a long pike made with an axe at the end of it; so MichaelStein's smithy is turned into a perfect armoury, and he and his two sonsare at work at the anvil morning, noon, and night: they made Annot blowthe bellows this morning, till she looks for all the world like atinker's wife."
"That alters the case," said Father Jerome; "they are doing go
odservice, if they are making arms for our men; they are better employedthan though they joined us themselves."
"Don't say so, Father Jerome," said Jacques, "pray don't say so, Jeanand Peter would die were they not to be of the party at Saumur; butMichael is so passionate and so headstrong, and he swears they shall notgo. Now go they will, and therefore I supplicate that my word may betaken, and that I may be saved the dishonour of hearing the names of myfriends read out aloud with those of men who will disgrace their parishand their country."
The request of Jacques was granted, and the names of Jean and PeterStein were erased from the top of the black list.
It was eight in the evening before the recruiting party had finishedtheir work, and it was not yet noon when they rode into the littlevillage. Henri and the Cure got their supper and slept at the Mayor'shouse, and even there they were not allowed to be quiet; some of thosewho were to be at Saumur, were continually calling for new instructions;one wanted to know what arms he was to carry, another what provisionshe was to bring, a third was anxious to be a corporal, and a fourth andfifth begged that they might not be separated, as one was going to marrythe sister of the other. None of these were turned away unanswered; thedoor of the Mayor's house was not closed for a moment, and Henri, to beenabled to eat his supper at all, was obliged to give his last militaryorders with a crust of bread in his hand, and his mouth full of meat.
As might be supposed, Jacques spent the evening with Annot Stein, atleast it was his intention to have done so; but he had been so leadinga person in the day's transactions that he also was besieged by thevillagers, and was hardly able to whisper a word into his sweetheart'sear. There he sat, however, very busy and supremely happy in the smith'skitchen, with a pipe in his mouth and a bottle of wine before him. Theold smith sat opposite to him, while the two young men stood among a lotof others round the little table, and Annot bustled in and out of theroom, now going close enough up to her lover to enable him to pinch herelbow unseen by her father, and then leaning against the dresser, andlistening to his military eloquence.
"And so, my friend," said Chapeau, "Jean and Peter are not to go toSaumur?"
"Not a foot, Chapeau," said the old man, "not a foot, Chapeau; let yefight, we will make swords for you: is not that fair, neighbour?"
"I have nothing to say against it, M. Stein, not a word; only suchfellows as they, they would surely get promoted."
"Oh, ay; you will all be sergeants, no doubt. I have nothing to sayagainst that; only none of mine shall go waging wars in distant lands."
"Distant lands, say you! is not Saumur in Anjou? and is not Anjou withinthree miles of you, here where you are sitting?"
"May be so, M. Chapeau; but still, with your leave, I say Saumur isdistant. Can you get there in one day from here?"
"Why no, not in one day."
"Nor in two?"
"Why, no again; though they might do it in two. They'll start from hereMonday morning with light, and they'll reach Saumur on Wednesday in timeto look about them, and learn what they have to do the next morning."
"That's three day's going, and three coming, and heaven only knows howmany days there; and you don't call that distant! Who's to feed them allI'd like to know?"
"Feed them!" said Chapeau. "I wish you could see all the bullocks andthe wine at Durbelliere; they'll have rations like fighting-cocks. Ionly pray that too much good living make them not lazy."
"Were I a man," said Annot, as she put on the table a fresh bottle ofwine, which she had just brought in from the little inn, "were I a man,as I would I were, I would go, whether or no."
"Would you, minx," said the father; "it's well for you that yourpetticoats keep you at home."
"Don't be too sure of her, Michael Stein," said Paul Rouel, the keeperof the inn; "she'll marry a soldier yet before the wars are over."
"Let her do as her mother did before her, and marry an honest tradesman;that is, if she can find one to take her."
"Find one!" said Annot, "if I can't get a husband without finding one,indeed, I'm sure I'll not fash myself with seeking: let him find me thatwants me."
"And it won't be the first that finds you either, that'll be allowed totake to you, will it Annot?" said the innkeeper.
"That's as may be, Master Rouel," said Annot. "Those who ask noquestions are seldom told many lies."
"I know Annot Stein loves a soldier in her heart," said another old man,who was sitting inside the large open chimney. "The girls think thereis no trade like soldiering. I went for a soldier when I was young, andit was all to oblige Lolotte Gobelin; and what think ye, when I wasgone, she got married to Jean Geldert, down at Petit Ange. There'snothing for the girls like soldiering."
"You give us great encouragement truly," said Jacques. "I hope oursweethearts will not all do as Lolotte did. You would not serve yourlover so, when he was fighting for his King and country--would you,Annot?"
"I might, then, if I didn't like him," said she.
"She's no better than her neighbours, M. Chapeau," said one of herbrothers. "There was young Boullin, the baker, at St. Paul's. Till weheard of these wars, Annot was as fond of him as could be. It was nonebut he then; but now, she will not as much as turn her head if she seeshis white jacket."
"Hold thine unmannerly, loutish, stupid tongue, wilt thou, thou dolt,"said Annot, deeply offended. "Boullin indeed! I danced with him lastharvest-home; I know not why, unless for sheer good-nature; and now,forsooth, I am to have Boullin for ever thrust in my teeth. Bah! I hatea baker. I would as lieve take a butcher at once."
Jacques Chapean also was offended.
"I wonder, Jean Stein," said he, "that you know not better than to likenyour sister to such as young Boullin--a very good young man in his way,I have no doubt. You should remember there is a difference in thesethings."
"I don't know," said Jean, "why a smith's daughter should not marry abaker's son; but I did not mean to vex Annot, and will say no more abouthim; only good bread is a very good thing to have in one's house."
"And a butcher is a good trade too," said the old man inside thechimney. "Jean Geldert, he that Lolotte Gobelin ran off with, he was abutcher."