La Vendee Part 27

"I didn't say I wouldn't speak to them, Rouel," said the father, "I am as fond of my sons as another man; and as they were resolved to disobey my commands, and to go fighting, why I'll not say but I'm glad they didn't disgrace themselves. I'd have been sorry to hear that they'd run away, or been the last to face the enemy; but they had no right to go, when there was work for them to do at home; they are welcome now to come and take the best I can give them, till their new trade calls them away again, and then they'll be welcome to go soldiering again; not a hammer shall they raise on my anvil, not a blast shall they blow in my smithy, not an ounce of iron shall they turn in my furnace."

"You'll think better of these things after a day or two, neighbour,"

said Gobelin.

"When I think once about a thing, Gobelin, I'm not much given to think again. But I tell you, I wish the boys no harm; let them be soldiers now, and I pray G.o.d they may be good soldiers; only, if I save a little money by hard work, I won't have them spend it among their comrades in strong drink; it'll be all the better for Annot, when I die, that's all."

In this resolution he remained fixed, and in this frame of mind he received his truant sons on their return to Echanbroignes on the Sunday morning. They entered the village together with Chapeau, about nine in the morning, having been met about a mile from the town, by four or five friends, who escorted them back. Annot was not there, for she was very busy at home, preparing breakfast for her brothers and lover. She at any rate was determined that the prodigal sons should be received with a fatted calf.

Chapeau marched up through the village at the head of the little procession to bear the brunt of the father's anger, as his station in life, and standing in the army made him feel superior even to the fury of old Michael Stein. As they approached the door of the smith's house, they saw him sitting in the little porch with a pipe in his mouth, for Michael was never found without one or two implements; he had always either his hammer or his pipe in lull activity.

"Welcome back to Echanbroignes, M. Chapeau, welcome back," said the old man. "I am heartily glad to see so brave a soldier in my poor cabin!"

and he gave his hand to Jacques.

"And here be two other brave soldiers, Michael Stein, who, I hope, are also welcome to Echanbroignes; and this I will say, any father in Poitou might be proud to own them for his Sons: for gallanter fellows there are not in the whole army of La Vendee, and that is saying a long word."

There was a little crowd round the smith's house, and in spite of his unmilitary predilections, he could not help feeling proud at the public testimony that was paid to his sons' merits: he showed this by the tear that stood in his eye, as he said:

"They are welcome too, M. Chapeau; they are very welcome too. I am glad to see ye, safe and sound from the wars, lads. I am glad to see thee, Jean: I am glad to see thee, Peter," and he gave a hand to each of the two young men, who were delighted with their unexpected kind reception.

"And this I will say before the neighbours here, as ye would go to the wars, and make soldiers of yourselves, I am well pleased to hear ye behaved yourselves like gallant brave men should do. I'd sooner that your friends should have had to tell me that ye were both stiff and cold, than that ye should have returned yourselves with shamed faces to own that ye had disgraced the trade ye have chosen to take up with."

"Bravo! Bravo!" said Chapeau, "I am glad in my heart, Michael Stein, to hear you speak so kindly to the lads; and so will M. Henri be glad to hear it, for they are two of his own especial troop--they are two of the gallant red scarfs, who swam into Saumur with their muskets tucked under their arms."

"But understand me, boys," continued the smith, still speaking so that the neighbours standing round could hear him. "I am right glad to see both of you, as I am to see M. Chapeau, or any other gallant friend who is kind enough to visit me and Annot. But mind, it is as visitors I receive you; in a few days, doubtless, you must go away to the wars again; till then ye shall have the best I can give, both to eat and to drink. Ye shall have your own way, and never be asked to do a turn of work. Ye shall have gay holyday times, and holyday fare, and anything the old man can do, and anything the old man can give to make you merry, he will do, and he will give, because you have come back gallantly, and have not brought dishonour to the roost where ye were hatched--but more than this I will not agree to. Ye would not abide at home, as I desired, and this therefore is no longer a home for you; ye would not be content to be forgers of weapons, but ye must e'en use them too, and ye have had your way. Now, lads, I must have my way; and for the rest of the time I must have it alone. This is no longer your home, lads, and I am no longer your master. Ye would be soldiers when I did not wish it; now let ye be soldiers, and I'm the less sorry for it, as it seems like that you'll prove good soldiers. And now, Peter and Jean, you're welcome both of you. Jacques Chapeau you are most heartily welcome--come Annot, let the lads have a swinging breakfast, for I know these soldiers fight not well unless they be fed well," and so finishing his speech, he led the way into the cottage.

The three men were too well pleased with their reception to grumble at the smith's mode of expressing his feeling. Jean and Peter were delighted to find that they were to be entertained with the best their father could afford, instead of with black looks and hard words, and that the only punishment to be immediately inflicted on them, was that they were to do no work; the party, therefore, entered the cottage tolerably well pleased with each other.

It is not to be supposed that Annot remained in the back-ground during the whole of her father's oration. She had come out of the cottage, and kissed her two brothers, and shaken hands with her lover; she then returned in again, and Chapeau had followed her, and as the two were left alone together, for a minute or two, I think it very probable that she kissed him also; but I cannot speak positively on this point.

Then they all sat down to breakfast, and Paul Rouel and old Gobelin, who had contrived to be of the party, were greatly surprised to hear and to see how civil Michael was to his sons. He pressed them to eat of the very best, as he did to Chapeau, and talked to them about the war, listened to all their tales, and had altogether lost the domineering authoritative tone of voice, with which he usually addressed his own family; it was only in talking to Annot that he was the same hot-tempered old man as ever. The two young men themselves were hardly at their ease; but they eat their breakfast, and made the best they could of it.

"Smothered fire burns longest, neighbour Gobelin," said Rouel, as he left the house. "Take my word, Michael will never forgive those two boys of his the longest day he has to live."

After breakfast, Michael Stein and his whole party went to ma.s.s, as did all the soldier peasants, who had returned from Saumur; and the old Cure of the parish, who had now recovered possession of his own church, with much solemnity returned thanks to G.o.d for the great victory which the Vendeans had gained, and sung a requiem for the souls of the royalists who had fallen in the battle. When they left the church, the peasants all formed themselves into a procession, the girls going first, and the men following them; and in this manner they paraded round the green, carrying a huge white flag, which had been embroidered in the village, and which bore in its centre, in conspicuous letters of gold, those three words, the loyal Shibboleth of La Vendee, "Vive le Roi!"

This flag they fixed on a pole erected in the centre of the green, and then they set to work to amuse themselves with twenty different games.

The games, however, did not flourish--the men were too eager to talk of what they had done, and the girls were too willing to listen--they divided themselves into fifty little parties, in which fifty different accounts were given of the taking of Saumur, and in each party three or four different warriors were named as having been the most conspicuous heroes of the siege. Each narrator had some especially esteemed leader or chief, who in his eyes greatly exceeded the other leaders, and the prodigious feats of valour performed by this favoured warrior was the first and most wonderful subject of discourse. Then, but at a modest distance, as regards the glory of the achievements related, each peasant told what he had done himself; two or three probably made out their little history together, and told of each other's valour: that homely and somewhat vulgar Scotch proverb, "you scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours," was certainly unknown to them, but nevertheless they fully recognized the wise principle of mutual accommodation which that proverb teaches.

"It's no use talking, but there isn't one of them able to hold a candle to our M. Henri--is there, Louis? that is, for a downright thundering attack."

This was said by Jean Stein to two or three of the village girls, by whom he was looked on as a great hero, in consequence of his having gone to the war in spite of his father's commands, as well as on account of Chapeau's honourable testimony in his favour; and the man referred to, was one Louis Bourdin, who, as well as Jean, had been of the party who followed Henri through the moat.

"That there is not, Jean; that is, for positive standup fighting; not one. And we ought to know, for we have seen most of 'em. There's Cathelineau is a very good man at leading on the men."

"Oh, yes!" said Jean, "Cathelineau is a fine fellow too, and a very holy man; but somehow I don't think he's quite so forward as M. Henri.

M. Henri is always the first."

"But doesn't he get dreadfully knocked about by the guns and bullets?"

asked one of the girls.

"He doesn't matter that a pinch of snuff," said Louis.

"No, not a pinch of snuff," said Jean. "Do you mind, Louis, how he leapt off his horse, and dashed through the trenches, that first night at Varin? wasn't it beautiful?"

"You may say that, Jean," answered Louis; "it was beautiful. And what a night that was--you were along with him, Jean, and so was Chapeau. M.

Henri was up first, I can swear to that; but it would puzzle any one to say who was second."

"Yourself Louis, was as quick as any one--I marked you well. Indeed then, said I to myself, if all our men are as forward as Louis Bourdin, the village will have a great name before the war is over."

"But tell me truly now, Louis Bourdin," said a little girl, who was listening intently all the time, "when you went up into that place, were there real soldiers in armour, with guns and cannon firing at you all the time?"

"Truly then there were, Lolotte, hundreds of them," said Bourdin.

"Well, that is horrible!" said the girls all at once.

"And do you remember, Jean," continued Bourdin, "when M. Henri dashed down again, how the traitor rebels hallooed out, 'Fire upon the red scarf!' Well, I did think it was all up with him then. You were close to him, Jean; nearer than I am to Lolotte now."

"And that's quite near enough," said Lolotte, giving him a push.

"Why I'm sure I was doing nothing; I was only wanting to show you. Jean Stein there, was, as I was saying, quite close to M. Henri; and as they leapt out of the camp together, twenty voices roared out at once, 'Fire upon the red scarf! fire upon the red scarf!' Oh! that was a fearful evening; it was dark then, and the light of the smoking, glaring torches made it five times more horrible. I thought we were as good as dead men then. I'm sure I for one can't guess how we ever got out alive."

"And yet, M. Henri wasn't wounded," said Jean; "well it was wonderful.

After all, General d'Elbee must be right; Providence must give a shake to a rebel's arm, just as he's firing, so as to send his bullet anywhere but where it's meant to go."

"Yes," said Bourdin, "and it directs the shot of a royalist right into a rebel's heart."

"Well, if that be so," said Lolotte, "I'm sure I for one wouldn't like to fight on the rebel's side. They must be wonderful brave men to hold out at all, when Providence goes against them in that way."

"But they don't hold out, girl," said Jean, "they always run away; how they did run, Bourdin, when M. Henri led us into the town, through the broken wall; well, I believe they all thought at that time, the devil himself was coming for them out of the moat."

"Only think, girls, three or four thousand men running away as fast as their feet could carry them, from two hundred fellows, who hadn't a charge of dry powder among them, and who were all themselves dripping wet through; well that was fine."

Jacques Chapeau and Annot Stein had not joined any of these parties; they had disappeared soon after ma.s.s, and were not heard of for three or four hours afterwards; they took a long ramble by themselves, down by the mill-stream, and far beyond the mill; sitting down, every now and then among the willows, and then getting up and strolling on a bit further; they did not, this day, waste their time in foolish quarrels and fond reconciliations; but discoursed together, sundry serious matters of important business, as becomes people to do, when they think of arranging a partnership concern, from which each intends to get a comfortable means of living for the remainder of his or her life; upon the whole, they had but very few subjects of difference, and by their return to the smith's house at supper-time, they had fully agreed that no further time ought to be lost, in establishing a firm under the name of Jacques and Annot Chapeau and Co. The Co. being left to come afterwards or not, as G.o.d might please.

After supper was over, Annot had no difficulty in inducing her brothers to leave the house, and thus the coast was left clear for Jacques to ask the father's consent to his intended marriage. Neither he nor Annot expected much difficulty in persuading Michael to accept of so promising a son-in-law; but they were both determined that if they could not marry with his consent, they would do so without it. So Chapeau lighted his pipe, and sat himself down opposite the smith, and Annot retired to her own little sleeping chamber, where she might conveniently hear what her father and lover said to each other, respecting her intended nuptials.

"Well, Michael Stein, my old friend," said Jacques; "these are glorious times, are they not? The rebels beaten hollow, till they haven't a face to shew for themselves, and the King coming to La Vendee, to enjoy his own again; it will be a fine thing to see the King riding into the village of Echanbroignes to thank the gallant peasants, with his own mouth, for what they have done for him!"

"Yes, M. Chapeau! those will be fine times when they come; pray G.o.d you, and other young fellows like you, may live to see them; an old fellow like me has little chance of such happiness."

"And why not, my friend? what is to make those days so far off? I tell you, Michael Stein, the rebels were dead beaten at Saumur; they are scattered like chaff; their very best soldiers are altogether hors de combat; the war is as good as over. We may have to make a little trip or two, just to receive the English, who are coming to help us; we may have to go and meet them on the coast; or perhaps to Parthenay, to ask M. Santerre what he wants in that part of the world; but that is all, literally all; I tell you the rebels are clean beaten."

"I only wonder then, M. Chapeau, why you want the English to come and help you, if, as you say, you have conquered all the republicans yourselves?"

"Just to pay their respects to the King, and, perhaps, to lend us a hand in driving those Jacobins out of Paris--that's all. Till that's done the King is to live at Saumur."

"To live at Saumur, is he?"

"That's what those say who know most about it, and you know I'm in the way to know what's really going forward. He's to hold his court at Saumur, and Henri Larochejaquelin is to be commandant of the town, and have the command of all the forces there. I tell you, Michael Stein, we, that wear the red scarfs, will not be the worse off then."