CHAPTER XXXI. THE SON OF THE MILLER OF LEGUERNO
We have said that at the very moment when Morgan and his threecompanions stopped the Geneva diligence between Bar-sur-Seine andChatillon, Roland was entering Nantes.
If we are to know the result of his mission we must not grope our way,step by step, through the darkness in which the Abbe Bernier wrappedhis ambitious projects, but we must join him later at the village ofMuzillac, between Ambon and Guernic, six miles above the little bay intowhich the Vilaine River falls.
There we find ourselves in the heart of the Morbihan; that is to say, inthe region that gave birth to the Chouannerie. It was close to Laval, onthe little farm of the Poiriers, that the four Chouan brothers wereborn to Pierre Cottereau and Jeanne Moyne. One of their ancestors, amisanthropical woodcutter, a morose peasant, kept himself aloof from theother peasants as the _chat-huant_ (screech-owl) keeps aloof from theother birds; hence the name Chouan, a corruption of _chat-huant_.
The name became that of a party. On the right bank of the Loire theysaid Chouans when they meant Bretons, just as on the left bank they saidbrigands when they meant Vendeans.
It is not for us to relate the death and destruction of that heroicfamily, nor follow to the scaffold the two sisters and a brother, nortell of battlefields where Jean and Rene, martyrs to their faith, laydying or dead. Many years have elapsed since the executions of Perrine,Rene and Pierre, and the death of Jean; and the martyrdom of thesisters, the exploits of the brothers have passed into legends. We havenow to do with their successors.
It is true that these gars (lads) are faithful to their traditions. Asthey fought beside la Rouerie, Bois-Hardy and Bernard de Villeneuve, sodid they fight beside Bourmont, Frotte, and Georges Cadoudal. Theirswas always the same courage, the same devotion--that of the Christiansoldier, the faithful royalist. Their aspect is always the same, roughand savage; their weapons, the same gun or cudgel, called in thoseparts a "ferte." Their garments are the same; a brown woollen cap, or abroad-brimmed hat scarcely covering the long straight hair that fell intangles on their shoulders, the old _Aulerci Cenomani_, as in Caesar'sday, _promisso capillo_; they are the same Bretons with wide breeches ofwhom Martial said:
_Tam laxa est..._ _Quam veteres braccoe Britonis pauperis._
To protect themselves from rain and cold they wore goatskin garments,made with the long hair turned outside; on the breasts of which, ascountersign, some wore a scapulary and chaplet, others a heart, theheart of Jesus; this latter was the distinctive sign of a fraternitywhich withdrew apart each day for common prayer.
Such were the men, who, at the time we are crossing the borderlandbetween the Loire-Inferieure and Morbihan, were scattered from LaRoche-Bernard to Vannes, and from Quertemberg to Billiers, surroundingconsequently the village of Muzillac.
But it needed the eye of the eagle soaring in the clouds, or that of thescreech-owl piercing the darkness, to distinguish these men among thegorse and heather and underbrush where they were crouching.
Let us pass through this network of invisible sentinels, and afterfording two streams, the affluents of a nameless river which flows intothe sea near Billiers, between Arzal and Dangau, let us boldly enter thevillage of Muzillac.
All is still and sombre; a single light shines through the blinds ofa house, or rather a cottage, which nothing distinguishes from itsfellows. It is the fourth to the right on entering the village.
Let us put our eye to one of these chinks and look in.
We see a man dressed like the rich peasants of Morbihan, except thatgold lace about a finger wide stripes the collar and buttonholes of hiscoat and also the edges of his hat. The rest of his dress consists ofleathern trousers and high-topped boots. His sword is thrown upon achair. A brace of pistols lies within reach of his hand. Within thefireplace the barrels of two or three muskets reflect the light of ablazing fire.
The man is seated before a table; a lamp lights some papers which he isreading with great attention, and illuminates his face at the same time.
The face is that of a man of thirty. When the cares of a partisanwarfare do not darken it, its expression must surely be frank andjoyous. Beautiful blond hair frames it; great blue eyes enliven it;the head, of a shape peculiarly Breton, seems to show, if we believe inGall's system, an exaggerated development of the organs of self-will.And the man has two names. That by which he is known to his soldiers,his familiar name, is Round-head; and his real name, received frombrave and worthy parents, Georges Cadudal, or rather Cadoudal, traditionhaving changed the orthography of a name that is now historic.
Georges was the son of a farmer of the parish of Kerleano in the communeof Brech. The story goes that this farmer was once a miller. Georges hadjust received at the college of Vannes--distant only a few leagues fromBrech--a good and solid education when the first appeals for a royalistinsurrection were made in Vendee. Cadoudal listened to them, gatheredtogether a number of his companions, and offered his services toStofflet. But Stofflet insisted on seeing him at work before he acceptedhim. Georges asked nothing better. Such occasions were not long to seekin the Vendean army. On the next day there was a battle; Georges wentinto it with such determination and made so desperate a rush that M. deMaulevrier's former huntsman, on seeing him charge the Blues, could notrefrain from saying aloud to Bonchamp, who was near him:
"If a cannon ball doesn't take off that _Big Round Head_, it will rollfar, I warrant you."
The name clung to Cadoudal--a name by which, five centuries earlier, thelords of Malestroit, Penhoel, Beaumanoir and Rochefort designated thegreat Constable, whose ransom was spun by the women of Brittany.
"There's the Big Round Head," said they; "now we'll exchange some goodsword-play with the English."
Unfortunately, at this time it was not Breton sword-thrusts againstEnglish, but Frenchmen against Frenchmen.
Georges remained in Vendee until after the defeat of Savenay. The wholeVendean army was either left upon the battlefield or vanished in smoke.For three years, Georges had performed prodigies of valor, strength anddexterity; he now crossed the Loire and re-entered Morbihan with onlyone man left of all who had followed him.
That man became his aide-de-camp, or rather his brother-in-arms.He never left him, and in memory of the hard campaign they had madetogether he changed his name from Lemercier to Tiffauges. We have seenhim at the ball of the Victims charged with a message to Morgan.
As soon as Cadoudal returned to his own part of the country, he fomentedinsurrection on his own responsibility. Bullets respected that biground head, and the big round head justified Stofflet's prediction. Hesucceeded La Rochejacquelin, d'Elbee, Bonchamp, Lescure, even Stofflethimself, and became their rival for fame, their superior in power; forit happened (and this will give an idea of his strength) that Cadoudal,almost single-handed, had been able to resist the government ofBonaparte, who had been First Consul for the last three months. The twoleaders who continued with him, faithful to the Bourbon dynasty, wereFrotte and Bourmont.
At the time of which we are now speaking, that is to say, the 26th ofJanuary, 1800, Cadoudal commanded three or four thousand men with whomhe was preparing to blockade General Hatry in Vannes.
During the time that he awaited the First Consul's answer to the letterof Louis XVIII. he had suspended hostilities; but Tiffauges had arriveda couple of days before with it.
That letter was already on the way to England, whence it would be sentto Mittau; and since the First Consul would not accept peace on theterms dictated by Louis XVIII., Cadoudal, commander-in-chief of LouisXVIII. in the West, renewed his warfare against Bonaparte, intendingto carry it on alone, if necessary, with his friend Tiffauges. Forthe rest, the latter was at Pouance, where conferences were beingheld between Chatillon, d'Autichamp, the Abbe Bernier, and GeneralHedouville.
He was reflecting--this last survivor of the great warriors of the civilwar--and the news he had just received was indeed a matter for deepreflection.
General Brune, the conqueror of
Alkmaar and Castricum, the savior ofHolland, had just been appointed to the command of the Republican forcesin the West. He had reached Nantes three days previous, intending, atany cost, to annihilate Cadoudal and his Chouans.
At any cost, therefore, Cadoudal and his Chouans must prove to thecommander-in-chief that they knew no fear, and had nothing to expectfrom intimidation.
Just then the gallop of a horse was heard; the rider no doubt hadthe countersign, for he passed without difficulty the various patrolsstationed along the toad to La Roche-Bernard, and entered the village ofMuzillac, also without difficulty.
He stopped before the door of the cottage in which Georges was sitting.The latter raised his head, listened, and, by way of precaution, laidhis hands on his pistols, though it was probable that the new-comer wasa friend.
The rider dismounted, strode up the path, and opened the door of theroom where Georges was waiting.
"Ah! it's you, Coeur-de-Roi," said Cadoudal. "Where do you come from?"
"From Pouance, general."
"What news?"
"A letter from Tiffauges."
"Give it to me."
Georges snatched the letter hastily from Coeur-de-Roi's hand and readit.
"Ah!" he exclaimed.
Then he read it a second time,
"Have you seen the man whose coming he speaks of?" inquired Cadoudal.
"Yes, general," replied the courier.
"What sort of a man is he?"
"A handsome young fellow of twenty-six or seven."
"What manner?"
"Determined."
"That's it. When does he arrive?"
"Probably to-night."
"Did you safe-guard him along the road?"
"Yes; he'll come safely."
"Do it again. Nothing must happen to him; he is protected by Morgan."
"That's understood, general."
"Anything more to say?"
"The advanced guard of the Republicans has reached La Roche-Bernard."
"How many men?"
"About a thousand. They have a guillotine with them, and thecommissioner of the executive power, Milliere."
"Are you sure?"
"I met them on the road. The commissioner was riding near the colonel,and I recognized him perfectly. He executed my brother, and I have swornhe shall die by my own hand."
"And you'll risk your life to keep your oath?"
"At the first opportunity."
"Perhaps it won't be long coming."
The gallop of a horse echoed through the street.
"Ah!" said Coeur-de-Roi, "that is probably the man you expect."
"No," replied Cadoudal, "this rider comes from the direction of Vannes."
The sound became more distinct, and it proved that Cadoudal was right.
The second horseman, like the first, halted at the gate, dismounted, andcame into the room. The royalist leader recognized him at once, in spiteof the large cloak in which he was wrapped.
"Is it you, Benedicite?" he asked.
"Yes, general."
"Where do you come from?"
"From Vannes, where you sent me to watch the Blues.
"Well, what are the Blues doing?"
"Scaring themselves about dying of hunger if you blockade the town.In order to procure provisions General Hatry intends to carry off thesupplies at Grandchamp. The general is to command the raid in person;and, to act more quickly, only a hundred men are to go."
"Are you tired, Benedicite?"
"Never, general."
"And your horse?"
"He came fast, but he can do twelve or fifteen miles more withoutkilling himself."
"Give him two hours' rest, a double feed of oats, and make him dothirty."
"On those conditions he can do them."
"Start in two hours. Be at Grandchamp by daybreak. Give the order in myname to evacuate the village. I'll take care of General Hatry and hiscolumn. Is that all you have to say?"
"No, I heard other news."
"What is it?"
"That Vannes has a new bishop."
"Ha! so they are giving us back our bishops?"
"So it seems; but if they are all like this one, they can keep them."
"Who is he?"
"Audrein!"
"The regicide?"
"Audrein the renegade."
"When is he coming?"
"To-night or to-morrow."
"I shall not go to meet him; but let him beware of falling into my men'shands."
Benedicite and Coeur-de-Roi burst into a laugh which completedCadoudal's thought.
"Hush!" cried Cadoudal.
The three men listened.
"This time it is probably he," observed Georges.
The gallop of a horse could be heard coming from the direction of LaRoche-Bernard.
"It is certainly he," repeated Coeur-de-Roi.
"Then, my friends, leave me alone. You, Benedicite, get to Grandchamp assoon as possible. You, Coeur-de-Roi, post thirty men in the courtyard;I want messengers to send in different directions. By the way, tell someone to bring the best that can be got for supper in the village."
"For how many, general?"
"Oh! two."
"Are you going out?"
"No, only to meet the man who is coming."
Two or three men had already taken the horses of the messengers into thecourtyard. The messengers themselves disappeared.
Georges reached the gate on the street just as a horseman, pulling uphis horse, looked about him and seemed to hesitate.
"He is here, sir," said Georges.
"Who is here?"
"He whom you seek."
"How do you know whom I am seeking?"
"I presume it is Georges Cadoudal, otherwise called Round-head."
"Exactly."
"Then I bid you welcome, Monsieur Roland de Montrevel, for I am theperson you seek."
"Ah, ah!" exclaimed the young man, amazed.
Then, dismounting, he looked about as if for some one to take his mount.
"Throw the bridle over your horse's neck, and don't be uneasy about him.You will find him when you want him. Nothing is ever lost in Brittany;you are in the land of honesty."
The young man made no remark, threw the bridle over his horse's neck ashe had been told, and followed Cadoudal, who walked before him.
"Only to show you the way, colonel," said the leader of the Chouans.
They both entered the cottage, where an invisible hand had just made upthe fire.