La Vendée

  E-text prepared by Andrew Turek

  LA VENDEE.

  An Historical Romance.

  by

  ANTHONY TROLLOPE

  CONTENTS.

  VOLUME I.

  I. THE POITEVINS. II. ST. FLORENT. III. DURBELLIERE. IV. CATHELINEAU. V. DE LESCURE. VI. RECRUITING. VII. SUNDAY IN THE BOCAGE. VIII. AGATHA LAROCHEJAQUELIN. IX. LE MOUCHOIR ROUGE. X. THE BISHOP OF AGRA.

  VOLUME II.

  I. SAUMUR. II. COUNCIL OF WAR. III. RETURN TO DURBELLIERE. IV. MICHAEL STEIN. V. THE HOSPITAL OF ST. LAURENT. VI. COMMISSIONERS OF THE REPUBLIC. VII. BATTLE OF AMAILLOU. VIII. CLISSON. IX. SANTERRE. X. THE RESCUE. XI. ANNOT STEIN. XII. SENTENCE OF DEATH.

  VOLUME III.

  I. ROBESPIERRE'S CHARACTER. II. ROBESPIERRE'S LOVE. III. THE LAST DAY AT DURBELLIERE. IV. THE CHAPEL OF GENET. V. THE VENDEANS AT ST. FLORENT. VI. THE PASSAGE OF THE LOIRE. VII. CATHELINEAU'S MOTHER. VIII. "WHAT GOOD HAS THE WAR DONE?" IX. LA PETITE VENDEE. X. LAVAL. XI. DEATH OF ADOLPHE DENOT. XII. VENDEAN MARRIAGES. XIII. CONCLUSION.

  VOLUME I.

  CHAPTER I.

  THE POITEVINS.

  The history of France in 1792 has been too fully written, and toogenerally read to leave the novelist any excuse for describing the stateof Paris at the close of the summer of that year. It is known to everyone that the palace of Louis XVI was sacked on the 10th of August. Thathe himself with his family took refuge in the National Assembly, andthat he was taken thence to the prison of the Temple.

  The doings on the fatal 10th of August, and the few following days had,however, various effects in Paris, all of which we do not clearly tracein history. We well know how the Mountain became powerful from that day;that from that day Marat ceased to shun the light, and Danton to curbthe licence of his tongue that then, patriotism in France began tototter, and that, from that time, Paris ceased to be a fitting abode foraught that was virtuous, innocent, or high-minded; but the steady marchof history cannot stop to let us see the various lights in which theinhabitants of Paris regarded the loss of a King, and the commencementof the first French Republic.

  The Assembly, though it had not contemplated the dethronement of theKing, acquiesced in it; and acted as it would have done, had theestablishment of a republic been decreed by a majority of its members.The municipality had determined that the King should fall, and, ofcourse, rejoiced in the success of its work; and history plainly markingthe acquiescence of the Assembly, and the activity of the city powers,naturally passes over the various feelings excited in different circlesin Paris, by the overthrow of the monarchy.

  Up to that period there was still in Paris much that was high, noble,and delightful. The haute noblesse had generally left the country; butthe haute noblesse did not comprise the better educated, or most socialfamilies in Paris. Never had there been more talent, more wit, or morebeauty in Paris than at the commencement of 1792; never had literaryacquirement been more fully appreciated in society, more absolutelynecessary in those who were ambitious of social popularity.

  There were many of this class in Paris who had hitherto watched theprogress of the Revolution with a full reliance in the panacea it wasto afford for human woes; many who had sympathized with the earlydemands of the Tiers Etat; who had rapturously applauded the TennisCourt oath; who had taken an enthusiastic part in the fete of the Champde Mars; men who had taught themselves to believe that sin, and avarice,and selfishness were about to be banished from the world by the lightsof philosophy; but whom the rancour of the Jacobins, and the furiouslicence of the city authorities had now robbed of their golden hopes.The dethronement of the King, totally severed many such from therevolutionary party. They found that their high aspirations had been invain; that their trust in reason had been misplaced, and that theexperiment to which they had committed themselves had failed; disgusted,broken-spirited, and betrayed they left the city in crowds, and with fewexceptions, the intellectual circles were broken up.

  A few of the immediate friends of the King, a few ladies and gentlemen,warmly devoted to the family of Louis XVI, remained in Paris. At thetime when the King was first subjected to actual personal restraint, afew young noblemen and gentlemen had formed themselves into a privateclub, and held their sittings in the Rue Vivienne. Their object was toassist the King in the difficulties with which he was surrounded, andtheir immediate aim was to withdraw him from the metropolis; Louis' ownoft-repeated indecision alone prevented them from being successful.These royalists were chiefly from the province of Poitou, and as theirmeetings gradually became known and talked of in Paris, they were calledthe Poitevins.

  They had among them one or two members of the Assembly, but the clubchiefly consisted of young noblemen attached to the Court, or ofofficers in the body-guard of the King; their object, at first, had beento maintain, undiminished, the power of the throne; but they had longsince forgotten their solicitude for the King's power, in their anxietyfor his safety and personal freedom.

  The storming of the Tuilleries, and the imprisonment of Louis,completely destroyed their body as a club; but the energy of eachseparate member was raised to the highest pitch. The Poitevins no longermet in the Rue Vivienne, but they separated with a determination on thepart of each individual royalist to use every effort to replace theKing.

  There were three young men in this club, who were destined to play aconspicuous part in the great effort about to be made, in a portion ofFrance, for the restitution of the monarchy; their fathers had livedwithin a few miles of each other, and though of different ages, and verydifferent dispositions, they had come to Paris together since thecommencement of the revolution.

  M. de Lescure was a married man, about twenty-seven years of age, ofgrave and studious habits, but nevertheless of an active temperament.He was humane, charitable, and benevolent: his strongest passion was thelove of his fellow-creatures; his pure heart had glowed, at an earlyage, with unutterable longings for the benefits promised to the humanrace by the school of philosophy from which the revolution originated.Liberty and fraternity had been with him principles, to have realizedwhich he would willingly have sacrificed his all; but at thecommencement of the revolution he had seen with horror the successiveencroachments of the lower classes, and from conscience had attachedhimself to the Crown. Hitherto he had been without opportunity ofshowing the courage for which he was afterwards so conspicuous; he didnot even himself know that he was a brave man; before, however, hiscareer was ended, he had displayed the chivalry of a Bayard, andperformed the feats of a Duguescin. A perfect man, we are told, wouldbe a monster; and a certain dry obstinacy of manner, rather than ofpurpose, preserved de Lescure from the monstrosity of perfection.Circumstances decreed that the latter years of his life should be spentamong scenes of bloodshed; that he should be concerned in all thehorrors of civil war; that instruments of death should be familiar tohis hands, and the groans of the dying continually in his ears. Butthough the horrors of war were awfully familiar to him, the harshnessof war never became so; he spilt no blood that he could spare, he tookno life that he could save. The cruelty of his enemies was unable tostifle the humanity of his heart; even a soldier and a servant of therepublic became his friend as soon as he was vanquished.

  Two young friends had followed M. de Lescure to Paris--Henri deLarochejaquelin and Adolphe Denot. The former was the son of the Marquisde Larochejaquelin, and the heir of an extensive property in Poitou; M.de Lescure and he were cousins, and the strictest friendship had longexisted between the families. Young Larochejaquelin was of a temperamentvery different from that of his friend: he was eager, impetuous,warm-t
empered, and fond of society; but he had formed his principles onthose of M. de Lescure. The love of his fellow-creatures was not withhim the leading passion of his heart, as it was with the other; buthumanity had early been instilled into him as the virtue most necessaryto cultivate, and he consequently fully appreciated and endeavoured toimitate the philanthropy of his friend.

  At the time alluded to, Henri de Larochejaquelin was not quite twentyyears of age. He was a lieutenant in the body-guard immediately attachedto the King's person, and called the "Garde du Roi." At any otherperiod, he would hardly yet have finished his education, but therevolution gave a precocious manhood to the rising generation. Henri'sfather, moreover, was very old; he had not married till late in life;and the young Marquis, when he was only seventeen, had to take onhimself the guardianship of his sister Agatha, and the management of thepaternal property. The old man was unable to leave his chair, and thoughhe still retained his senses, was well pleased to give up to the son ofhis old age the rights and privileges which in the course of naturewould descend to him.

  Without being absolutely handsome, young Larochejaquelin was of a veryprepossessing appearance. He was tall and robust, well made, and active.Though he had not attained that breadth of shoulder, and expansion ofchest, which a few years would probably have given him, he had theperfect use of his limbs, and was full of health and youthful energy;his eyes were bright, and of a clear blue colour; his hair was light,and his upper lip could already boast that ornament which the then age,and his own position made allowable. He was a favourite with all whoknew him--more so even than his friend de Lescure; and it is saying muchin his favour to declare that a year's residence amongst all that wasbeautiful and charming in Paris, had hitherto done but little to spoilhim.

  Adolphe Denot was an orphan, but also possessed of a fair property inthe province of Poitou. He had, when very young, been left to theguardianship of the Marquis de La Rochejaquelin, and had at intervals,during his holidays, and after he had left school, spent much of histime at Durbelliere, the family residence of the La Rochejaquelins.Henri had of course contracted a close friendship with him; but thisarose more from the position in which they were placed together, thana similarity of disposition. They were, indeed, very unlike; Adolphe wassomewhat older than the other, but he had neither his manliness ofmanner nor strength of character; he was more ambitious to be popular,without the same capacity of making himself so: he had as much romanticlove of poetical generosity, without the same forgetfulness of self toenable him to emulate in practice the characters, which he admired indescription; he had much veneration for poetic virtue, though but littlestrength to accomplish practical excellence. He had, on leaving school,proclaimed himself to be an ardent admirer of Rousseau; he had been awarm partizan of the revolution, and had displayed a most devotedenthusiasm to his country at the fete of the Champ de Mars. Latterly,however, the circles which he mostly frequented in Paris had votedstrong revolutionary ardour to be mauvais ton; a kind of modulatedroyalism, or rather Louis Seizeism, had become fashionable; and AdolpheDenot was not the man to remain wilfully out of the fashion. On the 10thof August, he was a staunch supporter of the monarchy.

  Adolphe Denot was a much handsomer man than his friend; his featureswere better formed, and more regular; he had beautifully white teeth,an almost feminine mouth, a straight Grecian nose, and delicately smallhands and feet; but he was vain of his person, and ostentatious; fondof dress and of jewellery. He was, moreover, suspicious of neglect, andvindictive when neglected; querulous of others, and intolerant ofreproof himself; exigeant among men, and more than politely flatteringamong women. He was not, however, without talent, and a kind of poeticfecundity of language, which occasionally made him brilliant in society;it was, however, generally speaking, those who knew him least who likedhim best.

  Larochejaquelin, however, was always true to him; he knew that he wasan orphan, without brother, sister, or relatives, and with the devotionof a real friend, he overlooked all his faults, and greatly magnifiedhis talents. For Henri's sake, M. de Lescure tolerated him, and thethree were therefore much together; they came from the same country;they belonged to the same club; they had the same political sympathies;and were looked upon as dear and stedfast friends.

  On the 10th of August, the King left the Tuilleries, and took refuge inthe National Assembly; during the greater part of the night he remainedthere with his family. Early on the following morning, he was removed,under a guard, to the Feuillants; and on the 12th it was decided thathe should be confined in the prison of the Temple.

  It was on the morning of the 12th, that the last meeting of the littleclub of the Poitevins took place.

  They met with throbbing hearts and blank faces; they all felt that evildays had come that the Revolution which had been so petted and caressedby the best and fairest in France, had become a beast of prey, and thatwar, anarchy, and misrule were at hand.

  They sat waiting on the morning of the 12th, till they should learn thedecision of the Assembly with regard to the King. De Lescure was therecalm and grave, but with much melancholy in his countenance.

  Larochejaquelin was there. Hot and eager, whispering plans for rescuingthe King, to which the less resolute hardly dared to listen. Charette,the Prince de Talmont, d'Autachamps, Fleuriot, and others, all of whomnow detested the Revolution, though they could not but feel the dangerof proclaiming themselves royalists.

  "Denot will be here directly," said La Rochejaquelin; "he is at theAssembly--they are not apt to be very tedious in their decisions."

  "Danton has openly declared," said Fleuriot, "that the armed sectionsshall remain in revolt, unless the Assembly decree the abolition of themonarchy."

  "Lafayette," said the Prince, "is the only man now who could save thecountry--if Lafayette will move, he might still save the throne."

  "He could do nothing," said d'Autachamps, "but add himself to theruins--the regiments, to a man, would side with the populace."

  "I don't know," said Larochejaquelin, "I don't think so. See how ourSwiss fought--could any men be more true to their officers or theircolours? and do you think there are not thousands in the French army astrue, as brave as they? If Lafayette would raise his hand, I for onewould join him."

  "Wait, Henri, wait," said de Lescure, "wait till you know whetherLafayette and the army will really be wanting to save the King. IfRoland be still firm, and Vergniaud true to his principles, they maystill quell the fury of the Jacobins--the moderate party has still alarge majority in the Assembly."

  "Roland and Vergniaud are both true," said Fleuriot, "but you will find,de Lescure, that they can do nothing but yield or go--they must vanishout of the Assembly and become nothing--or else they must go with thepeople."

  "The people! How I hate that phrase, in the sense in which it is nowused," said Larochejaquelin. "A mob of blood-thirsty ruffians wishes tooverturn the throne--but what evidence have we that the people wish it."

  "The people, Henri, have been taught to wish it," said de Lescure.

  "No, Charles, the people of France have not been taught to wish it--withall the teaching they have had, they do not wish it--have they shewn anyfavour to the new priests whom the Revolution has sent to them; do theylove much the Commissioners, who from time to time, come among them withthe orders of the Assembly. Do the people in the Bocage wish it?--dothey wish it in the Marais, Charette?--do they wish it in Anjou andBrittany? Danton, Robespierre, and Tallien wish it--the mob of Pariswishes it--but the people of France does not wish to depose their King."

  "But unfortunately," said d'Autachamps, "it is Danton, Robespierre, andthe mob of Paris who have now the supreme power, and for a time willhave their way--they who are wise will lie by till the storm has blownover."

  "And are we to remain quiet while we are robbed of every thing which weesteem as holy?" said Larochejaquelin; "are we all to acquiesce in thebrutality of such men as Danton, for fear the mob of Paris should be toostrong for us?"

  "I for one, will not!" said Charette
.

  "Nor I," said Larochejaquelin--"not while I have a sword to draw, and anarm to use it. You are silent, Charles--is a Republic so much to yourmind, that you have not a word, or even a wish for your King?"

  "You are too talkative, Henri," replied the other; "will it not be wellto think a little first before we proclaim definitively what we mean todo? We do not even know as yet in what position Louis XVI. may findhimself tomorrow--he may be more firmly seated on his throne than he hasbeen at any time since the Three Estates first met at Versailles."

  As he ceased speaking, the door opened, and Adolphe Denot entered, hotwith walking fast, and with his whole dress disordered by pushingthrough the dense masses of the crowd.

  "Speak, Adolphe," said Henri, "have they decreed--has it come to thevote?"

  "Are they still sitting?" said Fleuriot; "Danton, I am sure would nothave yielded so soon as this:--if the chamber be closed, he must havebeen victorious."

  "The King," said Denot, pausing for breath, "the King is to be taken tothe Temple!"

  There was a momentary silence among them all--their worst fears had beenrealized--the brute force of Paris had been triumphant. The firmness ofRoland, the eloquence of Vergniaud, the patriotism of Guadet had beenof no avail. The King of France--the heir of so long a line ofroyalty--the King, who had discarded the vices of his predecessors, andproved himself the friend of the people, was to be incarcerated in theworst prison in Paris by the vote of that very Assembly which he hadhimself called into existence.

  "He is to be confined in the Temple," continued Denot, "with the Queenand the two children. The populace are mad; they would kill him, if theycould lay their hands on him."

  "Where are your hopes now, Charles?" said Larochejaquelin. "Is it yettime for us to proclaim what we are--is it yet time for us to move? orare we to set still, until Danton enrolls us in his list of suspectedpersons?"

  No one immediately answered the appeal of the hot young loyalist, andafter a moment or two de Lescure spoke.

  "Adolphe, did you hear the words of the decree?"

  "Again and again," said Denot. "I was at the door of the Assembly, andthe decree was known to the crowd the moment the votes had been taken."

  "But did you hear the exact words?"

  "That Louis and his family should be imprisoned in the Temple," answeredDenot.

  "Did they say the King, or did they call him by his name?" asked deLescure again. "Did they decree that the King should be imprisoned, orLouis Capet?"

  As he spoke, the door again opened, and another member, who had beenamong the crowd, entered the room.

  "Gentlemen," said he, "allow me the honour to congratulate you. Yon donot know your own happiness. You are no longer the burdened slaves ofan effete monarchy; you are now the vigorous children of a youngRepublic."

  "Vive le Roi, quand meme," said Larochejaquelin, standing up in themiddle of the room. "I am glad they have so plainly declared themselves;we are driven now to do the same. Prince, now is the time to stand byour King. Charette, your hand; our dreams must now be accomplished. Youwill doubt no longer, Charles. Prudence herself would now feel that wehave no longer aught to wait for."

  "No--we must delay no longer," said Adolphe Denot. "A King is to besaved; every hour of delay is an hour of treason, while the King is inthe hands of his enemies."

  "A fine sentiment, Denot," said d'Autachamps; "but how will you avoidthe treason?--how do you purpose to rescue his Majesty?"

  "With my sword," said Adolphe, turning round shortly. "Do you doubt mywill?"

  "We only doubt your power, Adolphe," said de Lescure. "We only fear youmay not be able to raise the standard of revolt against the armedsections of all Paris, backed by a decree of the Assembly."

  "I can at any rate die in the attempt," replied Denot. "I cannot drawthe breath of life from the atmosphere of a Republic! I will not liveby the permission of Messieurs Danton and Robespierre."

  "Whatever we do," said Fleuriot, "the club must be given up. We areknown to be friendly to the King, and we are too weak to stand ourground; indeed, we should only incur useless danger by meeting here."

  "And waste the time which we may well employ in the provinces," saidCharette.

  "You are right, Charette," said Rochejaquelin, whom the wildness of hisfriend Denot had a little sobered. "You are quite right--Paris is nolonger a place for us. I will go back to the Bocage; there, at least,I may own among my neighbours that I am not a republican; there,perhaps, I may make some effort for my King--here I can make none. Youwill not stay in Paris, Charles, to hear unwashed revolutionists clatterof Louis Capet?"

  "No, Henri, I also will return home. Charette is right. We should butwaste our time in Paris, and be in danger. We shall probably be insafety in Poitou."

  "Perhaps not in safety," said Henri. "We may, I trust, soon be inaction."

  "How in action?" said Fleuriot. "What do you intend to do?"

  "To follow any one who will lead me to assist in restoring the King tohis throne," replied Henri. "Let us, at any rate, retire to ourprovinces; and be assured that the National Assembly will soon hear ofus."

  The club was broken up; the young friends met no more in the RueVivienne. Within a week from the 10th of August, the denizens of themunicipality had searched the rooms for any relics which might bediscovered there indicatory of a feeling inimical to the Republic; theirresidences also were searched, and there were orders at the barriersthat they should not pass out; but the future Vendean leaders had tooquickly appreciated the signs of the time; they had gone before therevolutionary tribunal had had time to form itself. They were gone, andtheir names for a season were forgotten in Paris; but HenriRochejaquelin was right--before long, the National Assembly did hear ofthem; before twelve months had passed, they were more feared by theRepublic, than the allied forces of England, Austria, and Prussia.