La Vendée

  CHAPTER VI.

  COMMISSIONERS OF THE REPUBLIC.

  The taking Saumur frightened the Convention much more than any of theprevious victories of the Vendeans. The republicans lost a vast quantityof military stores, arms, gunpowder, cannons, and soldiers' clothing;and, which was much worse than the loss itself these treasures hadfallen into the hands of an enemy, whose chief weakness consisted in thewant of such articles. The royalists since the beginning of the revolthad always shewn courage and determination in action; but they had neverbefore been collected in such numbers, or combated with forces so fullyprepared for resistance, as those whom they had so signally conqueredat Saumur. The Convention began to be aware that some strong effortwould be necessary to quell the spirit of the Vendeans. France at thetime was surrounded by hostile troops. At the moment in which therepublicans were flying from the royalists at Saumur, the soldiers ofthe Convention were marching out of Valenciennes, that fortified cityhaving been taken by the united arms of Austria and England. Conde alsohad fallen, and on the Rhine, the French troops who had occupied Mayencewith so much triumph, were again on the point of being driven from itby the Prussians.

  The Committee of Public Safety, then the repository of the supreme powerin Paris, was aware that unless the loyalty of La Vendee was utterlyexterminated, the royalists of that district would sooner or later jointhemselves to the allies, and become the nucleus of an overpoweringaristocratic party in France. There were at the time thousands, and tensand hundreds of thousands in France who would gladly have welcomed theextinction of the fearful Republic which domineered over them, had notevery man feared to express his opinion. The Republic had declared, thatopposition to its behests, in deed, or in word, or even in thought, asfar as thoughts could be surmised, should be punished with death; andby adhering to the purport of this horrid decree, the voice of a nationreturning to its senses was subdued. Men feared to rise against theincubus which oppressed them, lest others more cowardly than themselvesshould not join them; and the Committee of Public Safety felt that theirprolonged existence depended on their being able to perpetuate thisfear. It determined, therefore, to strike terror into the nation byexhibiting a fearful example in La Vendee. After full consideration, theCommittee absolutely resolved to exterminate the inhabitants of thecountry--utterly to destroy them all, men, women, and children--to burnevery town, every village, and every house--to put an end to all lifein the doomed district, and to sweep from the face of the country man,beast, and vegetable. The land was to be left without proprietors,without a population, and without produce; it was to be converted intoa huge Golgotha, a burial-place for every thing that had life within it;and then, when utterly purged by fire and massacre, it was to be givenup to new colonists, good children of the Republic, who should enjoy thefertility of a land soaked with the blood of its former inhabitants.Such was the deliberate resolution of the Committee of Public Safety,and no time was lost in commencing the work of destruction.

  Barrere, one of the members of the Committee, undertook to see the workput in a proper train, and for this purpose he left Paris for the sceneof action. Westerman and Santerre accompanied him, and to them wascommitted the task of accomplishing the wishes of the Committee. Therewas already a republican army in La Vendee, under the command of GeneralBiron, but the troops of which it was composed were chiefly raw levies,recruits lately collected by the conscription, without discipline, and,in a great degree, without courage; but the men who were now brought tocarry on the war, were the best soldiers whom France could supply.Westerman brought with him a legion of German mercenaries, on whom hecould rely for the perpetration of any atrocity, and Santerre was at thehead of the seven thousand men, whom the allied army had permitted tomarch out of Valenciennes, and to return to Paris.

  It was in the beginning of July that this worthy triumvirate met atAngers, on their road to La Vendee. Cathelineau had driven therepublican garrison out of this town immediately after the victory atSaumur, but the royalists made no attempt to keep possession of it, andthe troops who had evacuated it at their approach, returned to it almostimmediately. It was now thronged with republican soldiers of alldenominations, who exercised every species of tyranny over thetownspeople. Food, drink, forage, clothes, and even luxuries weredemanded, and taken in the name of the Convention from every shop, andthe slightest resistance to these requisitions, was punished as treasonto the Republic. The Vendeans, in possession of the same town only afortnight before, had injured no one, had taken nothing without payingfor it, aid had done everything to prevent the presence of their armybeing felt as a curse; and yet Angers was a noted republican town; ithad shown no favours to the royalists, and received with open arms themessengers of the Convention. Such was the way in which the republicansrewarded their friends, and the royalists avenged themselves on theirenemies.

  One hot July evening, five men were seated in a parlour of the Mayor'shouse in Angers, but the poor Mayor himself was not allowed, norprobably did he wish, to be one of the party. Glasses were on the tablebefore them, and the empty bottles, which were there also, showed, thathowever important the subjects might be which they were discussing, theystill considered that some degree of self-indulgence was compatible withtheir duties. The air of the room was heavy with tobacco smoke, and oneor two of the number still had cigars between their lips. They were allarmed, though two of them were not in uniform, and the manner in whichthey had their arms disposed, showed that they did not quite conceivethemselves to be in security in these their convivial moments. The menwere Barrere, Westerman, and Santerre, and two of the republicanGenerals, Chouardin and Bourbotte.

  Westerman and the two latter were in uniform, and the fact of theirhaving arms, was only in keeping with their general appearance: but theother two were in plain clothes, and their pistols, which were lyingamong the glasses on the table, and the huge swords which stood uprightagainst their chairs, gave a hideous aspect to the party, and made themlook as though they were suspicious of each other.

  Barrere alone had no sword. His hand was constantly playing with alittle double-barrelled pistol, which he continually cocked anduncocked, the fellow of which lay immediately before him. He was a tall,well built, handsome man, about thirty years of age, with straight blackhair, brushed upright from his forehead; his countenance gave the ideaof eagerness and impetuosity, rather than cruelty or brutality. He was,however, essentially egotistical and insincere; he was republican, notfrom conviction, but from prudential motives; he adhered to the thronea while, and deserted it only when he saw that it was tottering; for atime he belonged to the moderate party in the Republic, and voted withthe Girondists; he gradually joined the Jacobins, as he saw that theywere triumphing over their rivals, and afterwards was one of those whohanded over the leaders of the Reign of Terror to the guillotine, andassisted in denouncing Robespierre and St. Just. He was one of the veryfew who managed to outlive the Revolution, which he did for nearly halfa century.

  His face was hardly to be termed prepossessing, but it certainly did notdenote the ruthless ferocity which the nature of the task he hadundertaken would require, and which he exercised in its accomplishment.Nature had not formed him to be a monster gloating in blood; theRepublic had altered the disposition which nature had given him, and helearnt among those with whom he had associated, to delight in the workwhich they required at his hands. Before the Reign of Terror was over,he had become one of those who most loudly called for more blood, whileblood was running in torrents on every side; it was he who demanded themurder of the Queen, when even Robespierre was willing to save her. Itwas he who declared in the Convention that the dead were the onlyenemies who never returned; and yet this same man lived to publish apamphlet, in which he advocated the doctrine, that under nocircumstances could one human being be justified in taking the life ofanother.

  He was dressed in a blue dress-coat, which in spite of the heat of theweather, was buttoned close round his body; he was rather a dandy in hiscostume, for his tightly-fitted breeches were m
ade to show the form ofhis well-formed leg, and his cravat was without a wrinkle. Before theRevolution, Barrere had been a wealthy aristocrat.

  Santerre, who sat next to him, was in every respect unlike the ci-devantnobleman. He was a large, rough, burly man, about forty years of age;his brown hair was long and uncombed, his face was coarse and hot, andthe perspiration was even now running down it, though drinking andsmoking was at present his hardest work; his lips were thick andsensual, and his face was surrounded by huge whiskers, which made himlook uncouth and savage; his cravat was thrown off, and his shirt wasopen at the neck, so as to show his brown throat and brawny chest; ahuge horse pistol lay before him close to his glass, and a still hugersword stood up against his chair. He was drinking hard and talkingloudly, and was evidently quite at ease with his company; he was ascompletely at home in the Mayor's parlour at Angers, as when rushinginto the Tuilleries at the head of his fellow citizens from the faubourgSt. Antoine.

  Santerre was of Flemish descent, and by trade a brewer. He was possessedof considerable wealth, which he freely spent among the poor, whilefamine pressed sore upon them; he was consequently loved, followed, andobeyed. He was the King of the Faubourgs; and though the most ruthlessin his animosity to the royalists, he was not altogether a bad man,neither was he by nature absolutely cruel. He had adopted the Revolutionfrom a belief that the great mass of the people would be better off inthe world without kings, nobility, or aristocrats; and having madehimself firm in this belief, he used to the utmost his coarse, huge,burly power in upsetting these encumbrances on the nation. His love ofliberty had become a fanaticism. He had gone with the current, and hehad no fine feelings to be distressed at the horrid work which he hadto do, no humanity to be shocked; but he was not one of those whodelighted in bloodshed and revelled in the tortures which he inflictedon others. He had been low in the world's esteem, and the Revolution hadraised him to a degree of eminence; this gratified his ambition, andmade him a ready tool in the hands of those who knew how to use hiswell-known popularity, his wealth, his coarse courage and great physicalpowers.

  Westerman sat at the window a little away from the others. He was a manof indomitable courage and undying perseverance. He was a German, whohad been banished from Prussia, and having entered the French army asa private soldier had gradually risen to be an officer. A short timebefore the storming of the Tuilleries he had foreseen that thedemocratic party was prevailing, and he had joined it. Danton andSanterre had discovered and appreciated his courage and energy, and hesoon found himself a leader of the people. It was he who directed themovements of the populace on the 10th of August, when the Tuilleries wassacked, and the Swiss guards were massacred on the steps of the King'spalace. Since that time Westerman had been a successful soldier in therepublican army, not that he was by any means a vehement democrat: hisobject had been military success, and that only. He had neitherpolitical theories or political ambition. Chance had thrown him in theway of the Republic, and he had become a republican. He was thenattached to the army of Dumourier as aide-de-camp to that General, andwas in the confidence of him and of Danton, at the moment that Dumourierwas endeavouring to hand over the armies of the Republic to the powerof Prussia and of Austria. He again, however, was wise in time.Dumourier calculated too entirely on the affection of the army tohimself and failed; but before he failed, Westerman had left him. He wasnow again a trustworthy servant of the Republic, and as such was sentto assist in the fearful work which the tyranny of the democratsrequired.

  His unnatural ruthlessness and prompt obedience were of no avail to him.Soon after his return from the western provinces he perished under theguillotine.

  "And so the good Cathelineau is dead," said Santerre. "The invincible,the invulnerable, the saint! ha, ha! What sweet names these dear friendsof ours have given themselves."

  "Yes," said General Bourbotte; "the messenger who told me had comedirect from their hospital; Cathelineau breathed his last the day beforeyesterday at St. Laurent."

  "Let us drink to his health, gentlemen; his spiritual health," saidSanterre; "and to his safe journey;" and the brewer raised his glass tohis lips, and drank the toast which he had proposed.

  "Bon voyage, my dear Cathelineau," said Bourbotte, following hisexample.

  "Cathelineau was a brave man," said Chouardin. "I am glad he died of hiswounds; I should have been sorry that so gallant a fellow should havehad to submit his neck to the sharp embraces of MademoiselleGuillotine."

  "That is hardly a patriotic sentiment, citizen General," said Barrere."Gallantry on the part of an insurgent royalist is an inspiration ofthe devil, sent to induce man to perpetuate the degradation and miseryof his fellow-men. Such gallantry, or rather such frenzy, should giverise to anything but admiration in the breast of a patriot."

  "My fidelity to the Republic will not be doubted, I believe," saidChouardin, "because, as a soldier, I admire high courage when I find itin a soldier."

  "If your fidelity be unimpeachable, your utility will be muchquestioned, if you wish to spare a royalist because he is a brave man,"said Barrere. "By the same argument, I presume, you would refrain fromknocking an adder on the head, because he rose boldly in your path."

  "Who talked of sparing?" said Chouardin. "I only said that I wouldsooner that a brave enemy should die in battle than be handled by anexecutioner. Talk as you will, you cannot disgrace such a man asCathelineau."

  "Cannot I, indeed, citizen General?" said Westerman, rising from hisseat and coming into the middle of the room. "I do then utterly despise,scorn, and abominate him, and all such as him. I can conceive nothingin human form more deplorably low, more pitiably degraded, than such apoor subservient slave as he was."

  "There, Westerman, you are grossly wrong," said Santerre. "Your cowardlyMarquis, run-fling from the throne which he pretends to reverence, butdoes not dare to protect; whose grand robes and courtly language alonehave made him great; who has not heart enough even to love the gaypuppets who have always surrounded him, or courage enough to fight forthe unholy wealth he has amassed: this man I say is contemptible. Suchcreatures are as noxious vermin, whom one loathes, and loathing themdestroys. You no less destroy the tiger, who ravages the green fieldswhich your labour has adorned; who laps the blood of your flocks, andthreatens the life of your children and servants, but you do not despisethe tiger; you keep his hide, as a monument of your victory over a braveand powerful enemy. Cathelineau was the tiger, who was destroying,before it had ripened, the precious fruit of the Revolution."

  "The tiger is a noble beast," said Westerman. "He is hungry, and heseeks his prey; he is satisfied, and he lays down and sleeps; butCathelineau was a mean jackal, who strove for others, not for himself.I can understand the factious enmity of the born aristocrat, who is nowcalled upon to give up the titles, dignities, and so-called honours,which, though stolen from the people, he has been taught to look uponas his right. He contends for a palpable possession which his hand hasgrasped, which he has tasted and long enjoyed. I know that he is arobber and a spoiler of the poor; I know, in short, that he is anaristocrat, and as such I would have him annihilated, abolished from theface of the earth. I would that the aristocrats of France had but oneneck, that with a grasp of my own hand, I might at once choke out theirpernicious breath," and the republican laid upon the table his hugehand, and tightly clenched his fingers as though he held between themthe imaginary throat of the aristocracy of France; "but," continued he,"much as I hate a gentleman, ten times more strongly do I hate, despise,and abhor the subservient crew of spiritless slaves who uphold the powerof the masters, who domineer over them, who will not accept the sweetgift of liberty, who are kicked, and trodden on, and spat upon, andwill not turn again; who will not rise against their tyrants, evenwhen the means of doing so are brought to their hands; who willingly,nay, enthusiastically, lay their necks in the dust, that theirfellow-creatures may put their feet upon them. Of such was thisCathelineau, and of such I understand are most of those who hound onthese wretched peasants to su
re destruction. For them I have no pity,and with them I have no sympathy. They have not the spirit of men, andI would rejoice that the dogs should lick their blood from off thewalls, and that birds of prey should consume their flesh."

  "Westerman is right," said Barrere; "they are mean curs, these Vendeans,and like curs they must be destroyed; the earth must be rid of men whoknow not how to take possession of their property in that earth whichnature has given them. Believe me, citizen General, that any sympathywith such a reptile as Cathelineau is not compatible with the feelingwhich should animate the heart of a true republican, intending honestlyand zealously to do the work of the Republic."

  General Chouardin made no reply to the rebuke which these wordsconveyed; he did not dare to do so; he did not dare to repeat theopinion that there was anything admirable in the courage of a royalist.Much less than had now been said had before this been deemed sufficientto mark as a victim for the revolutionary tribunal some servant of theRepublic, and few wished to experience the tender mercies of FouquierTinville, the public accuser. Even Santerre was silenced; despite hispopularity, his well-known devotion to the cause, his hatred of thearistocrats, and his aversion to royalty, so horridly displayed at theexecution of the King, even he felt that it might not be safe for himto urge that the memory of Cathelineau was not despicable.

  "His death must have much weakened them," said Bourbotte. "I know themwell, the miscreants! I doubt if they will follow any other leader, thatis, in great numbers. The fools looked on this man as a kind of god;they now find that their god is dead. I doubt whether there is anotherleader among them, who can induce them to leave their parishes."

  "If they won't come to us," said Barrere, "we must go to them; they havegone too far now to recede. Whether they return to their homes, or againtake up arms, matters little; they must all be destroyed, for bloodalone can establish the Republic on a basis which can never beoverturned."

  "The name of a royalist shall be as horrible in men's ears as that ofa parricide," said Santerre.

  "But what will you do if you find no army to oppose you?" saidBourbotte. "You cannot well fight without an enemy."

  "Never fear," said Westerman, "your muskets shall not grow rusty forwant of use. We will go from parish to parish, and leave behind us deadcorpses, and burning houses."

  "You will not ask soldiers to do the work of executioners?" saidBourbotte.

  "I expect the soldiers to do the work of the Convention," said Barrere;"and I also expect the officers to do the same: these are not times inwhich a man can be chary as to the work which he does."

  "We must not leave a royalist alive in the west of France," saidWesterman. "You may be assured, Generals, that our soldiers will obeyus, however slow yours may be to obey you."

  "Perhaps so," said Bourbotte; "my men have not yet been taught tomassacre unarmed crowds."

  "It is difficult to know what they have been taught," said Westerman."Whenever they have encountered a few peasants with clubs in theirhands, your doughty heroes have invariably ran away."

  Westerman as he spoke, stood leaning on the back of a chair, andBourbotte also rose as he answered him.

  "I have yet to learn," aid he, "that you yourself ever were able to makegood soldiers out of country clowns in less than a month's time. Whenyou have done so, then you may speak to me on the subject withoutimpertinence."

  "I give you my word, citizen General," answered Westerman, "I shall sayto you, then and now, whatever I, in the performance of my duty, maythink fits and if you deem me impertinent, you may settle that pointwith the Convention, or, if you prefer it, with myself."

  "Westerman, you are unfair to General Bourbotte," said Santerre; "he hassaid nothing which need offend you."

  "It is the General that is offended, not I," said Westerman; "I only begthat he may not talk mawkish nonsense, and tell us that his fellows aretoo valiant, and too noble to put to the sword unarmed royalists, wheneverybody knows they are good for nothing else, and that they would runand scatter from the fire of a few muskets, like a lot of plovers froma volley of stones."

  "I grant you," said Bourbotte, "that my soldiers are men and notmonsters. They are, as yet, French peasants, not German cut-throats."

  "Now, by Heaven, Bourbotte," said the Prussian, "you shall swallow thatword," and he seized a pistol from off the table. "German cut-throat!and that from you who have no other qualities of a soldier than what areto be found in a light pair of heels. You shall, at any rate, have todeal with one German, whether he be a cut-throat or not."

  "In any way you please," said Bourbotte, "that is, in any open or honestway." And as he spoke, he stepped back one step, and took his sword outof the scabbard.

  The pistol which Westerman had taken from the table belonged toSanterre, and when he saw it in the hand of his friend, he leapt up andseized hold of the German's arm.

  "Are you mad Westerman," said he; "do you wish to fight here in theMayor's house? I tell you, you were wrong, in taunting him as you did;sit quiet till I make peace between you."

  "Taunting him! now, by Heaven, that is good. I will leave it to Barrereto say who first taunted the other. Nonsense, Santerre, leave hold ofme I say: you do not think I am going to murder the man, do you?"

  General Chouardin also got up and put himself between the two armed men."Put up your sword, Bourbotte," whispered he, leading him off to thefurther window of the room; "you are no match for him here: if Barrerechooses he will have you recalled to Paris, and your neck will then notbe worth a month's purchase."

  "Gentlemen," said Barrere, "this will never do. You can neither of youserve the nation well if you persist in quarrelling between yourselves.General Bourbotte, you should apologize to our friend Westerman for theinsult which you offered to his countrymen."

  "My country is the country of my adoption," said Westerman. "I ceasedto be a German when I took up the arms of France; but my soldiers aremy children, and an insult to them is an injury to myself."

  "If your anger can wait till the revolt in La Vendee has been quelled,"said Chouardin, "my friend Bourbotte will be ready enough to satisfyyour wishes as a citizen. Barrere truly says, this is no time forprivate quarrels."

  "So be it," said Westerman. "Let General Bourbotte remember that he owesme an apology or redress."

  "You shall have any redress, which any arms you may be pleased to namecan give you," said Bourbotte.

  "By my honour then, you are two fools," said Santerre; "two egregiousfools, if you cannot at once forget the angry words which you each haveused. Have your own way, however, so long as you do not fight here."

  As the brewer was yet speaking, a servant knocked at the door, and saidthat a young man wished to say a few words to citizen Santerre onespecial business, and on the service of the Republic.

  "On the service of the Republic?" said Santerre. "Show him in here then;I have no official secrets from my colleagues."

  The servant, however, stated that the young man would not make hisappearance in the room where the party were sitting, and he declared hewould go away if he could not see Santerre alone. The republican atlength yielded, and followed the servant into a small sitting-room,where he found our friend, Adolphe Denot.