Walking To New Orleans Robert R N Rossdeanne E B

Ross Deanne E B Ross download

https://ebookbell.com/product/walking-to-new-orleans-robert-r-n-
rossdeanne-e-b-ross-deanne-e-b-ross-59378770

Explore and download more ebooks at ebookbell.com

Here are some recommended products that we believe you will be
interested in. You can click the link to download.

Magnetic City A Walking Companion To New York Justin Davidson

https://ebookbell.com/product/magnetic-city-a-walking-companion-to-
new-york-justin-davidson-5849176

Magnetic City A Walking Companion To New York Justin Davidson

https://ebookbell.com/product/magnetic-city-a-walking-companion-to-
new-york-justin-davidson-10907296

Walking With Thoreau A Literary Guide To The New England Mountains 1st
Edition Henry David Thoreau

https://ebookbell.com/product/walking-with-thoreau-a-literary-guide-
to-the-new-england-mountains-1st-edition-henry-david-thoreau-5595194

Beyond The Troubled Water Of Shifei From Disputation To

Walkingtworoads In The Zhuangzi Lin Ma Jaap Van Brakel

https://ebookbell.com/product/beyond-the-troubled-water-of-shifei-
from-disputation-to-walkingtworoads-in-the-zhuangzi-lin-ma-jaap-van-
brakel-33747704
The Essential Family Guide To Borderline Personality Disorder New
Tools And Techniques To Stop Walking On Eggshells 1st Edition Randi
Kreger

https://ebookbell.com/product/the-essential-family-guide-to-
borderline-personality-disorder-new-tools-and-techniques-to-stop-
walking-on-eggshells-1st-edition-randi-kreger-35062528

The Essential Family Guide To Borderline Personality Disorder New

Tools And Techniques To Stop Walking On Eggshells Randi Kreger Paul T
Mason

https://ebookbell.com/product/the-essential-family-guide-to-
borderline-personality-disorder-new-tools-and-techniques-to-stop-
walking-on-eggshells-randi-kreger-paul-t-mason-53788934

Zombies 01 A Field Guide To The Walking Dead Curran Bob

https://ebookbell.com/product/zombies-01-a-field-guide-to-the-walking-
dead-curran-bob-61232014

Walking New York Reflections Of American Writers From Walt Whitman To

Teju Cole Stephen Miller

https://ebookbell.com/product/walking-new-york-reflections-of-
american-writers-from-walt-whitman-to-teju-cole-stephen-
miller-51827454

Closer To The Edge Walking With Jesus For The Worlds Sake Ron Ruthruff

https://ebookbell.com/product/closer-to-the-edge-walking-with-jesus-
for-the-worlds-sake-ron-ruthruff-48875658
Another Random Scribd Document
with Unrelated Content
I turned towards the column: nothing on it made mention of Kléber's
courage and Schewardin's devotion, nothing but just those four
Vendean names. I forgot where I was, for this one-sidedness made
the blood rise to my face.
"I do not know what it is prevents me from putting a bullet into the
middle of that column, and signing it Schewardin and Kléber!" I said
aloud, talking to myself without imparting to my man the reflections
that led to this monologue.
I felt my guide put a trembling hand on my shoulder, and I turned
round; he was very pale.
"For the Lord's sake, monsieur," he said, "don't do that; I have
vowed to bring you through safe and sound, and if you were to
commit any folly like that, I could no longer answer for you.... Do
you know that those four men are our gods, and every Vendean
peasant says his prayers here, as at the stations of the Virgin which
you see at the entrance of our villages? Do not do that; or beware of
the hedgerows!"
We reached Tiffanges without saying another word.
Tiffanges is an ancient Roman station. During Cæsar's wars with the
Gauls, he sent Crassus, his lieutenant, there with the Seventh
Legion; from thence Crassus proceeded to Theowald, the Doué of
our day, where he pitched his camp. Crassus adolescens cum legione
septimâ, proximus mare Oceanum in Andibus hiemârat.[2] This
region of the Gauls was never wholly subdued by the Romans; the
Pict kings always fought for their liberty there. Augustus had hardly
ascended the throne before le Bocage uttered a fresh war-cry.
Agrippa went there immediately, believed he had subjugated the
inhabitants and returned to Rome. Again they rose in revolt. Messala
succeeded him, and took Tibullus with him, who in his capacity of
poet claims for himself a portion of the honours of the campaign—

"Non sine me est tibi partus honos: Tarbella Pyrene Testis, et

Oceani littora Santonici; Testis Arar, Rhodanusque celer,
 magnusque Garumna, Carnuti et flavi, coerula lympha, Liger!"

—as much as to say, "You did not win this honour without me.
Witness Tarbella the Pyrenean, and the coasts of the Santonic Ocean
(Saintonge); remember also the Arar (the Saône) and the rapid
Rhône and wide Garonne, and the Loire, the blue waters of the fair
Carnute."
Possibly, too, Tibullus followed Messala in the same way that Boileau
followed Louis XIV.; as to the Loire, if it was blue in the time of
Augustus, it has changed its colour singularly since that day!
Tiffanges is, indeed, a place full of memories of Cæsar, Adrian, Clovis
and the Visigoths; near the Roman tomb springs the Frankish cradle,
as can be clearly traced through the history of twenty long centuries.
The château, the ruins of which we visited, seems to be an eleventh-
century erection continued during the twelfth, and only finished at
the end of the thirteenth century. The famous Gilles de Laval,
Marshal of Raiz, who was known in the country under the name of
Barbe-Bleue, inhabited this castle, and by his way of living gave rise
to a multitude of popular traditions that are still quite fresh in the
neighbouring villages. In short, as there is justice in heaven, and a
man who pillaged twenty churches, ravished fifty maidens and
gained riches must always end badly, to acquit Providence you ought
to know that this Gilles de Laval was burnt in the meadow of Bièce,
first being beheaded at the solicitation of his family, which had great
influence with the sire de l'Hospital, who granted him this favour;
but, previously, the condemned man made a speech, at the
conclusion of which, says history, nothing could be heard but the
sobbing of women. History also tells (but as it is history, you need
not pin faith to it) that the fathers and mothers of high rank who
heard Gilles de Laval's last words fasted three days to win Divine
forgiveness for him, which, doubtless, he obtained, since his
confessor was one of the cleverest of the time. That done, these
same parents inflicted a whipping on their children, on the place of
execution, to fix in their memories the recollection of the punishment
that overtook the great criminal! History omits to tell us if the
children of the sixteenth century were as fond of executions as those
of the nineteenth.

[1] The army corp which had evacuated Mayence and which was
ordered to la Vendée was really only composed of ten thousand
four hundred men.
[2] Cæsar's Commentaries, I. iii. § 7.

CHAPTER VIII

Le Bocage—Its deep lanes and hedges—The Chouan tactics—

Vendean horses and riders—Vendean politics—The Marquis de la
Bretèche and his farmers—The means I suggested to prevent a
fresh Chouannerie—The tottering stone—I leave la Jarrie—
Adieux to my guide

I have of course put on one side as well as I could, until now,

particulars relating to statistics and the topography of the country;
but one must come to it eventually. On the outskirts of Tiffanges, la
Vendée is first seen with its undulating country, which proved so
disastrous to us in the Chouan War.
Let me be permitted to reproduce here a part of the report which I
submitted to General La Fayette on my return to Paris, which report,
as will be seen later, was also submitted to the inspection of King
Louis-Philippe:—

"... In the first place, the word Vendée, politically speaking,

comprises a much larger area of ground than it does
topographically. And this was because the name of a single
department christened a war which was really spread over four
departments. So, under the collective name of Vendée the
departments of Maine-et-Loire, Morbihan, Deux-Sèvres and la
Vendée were all included. No other part of France at all
resembles la Vendée; it is a country quite unique. But few main
roads pass through it. I will speak further of them in due
course. The other means of communication—and, consequently,
those of commerce—consist of lanes of between four and five
feet in width, edged on either side by steep banks, crowned by
a quickset hedge trimmed to the height of a man, and at every
twenty yards stand oak trees whose interlacing branches form
an arbour over the road. Hedges bounding private fields
intersect them at right angles here and there, thus forming
enclosed spaces which hardly ever consist of more than one or
two acres, always of an oblong shape. Each of these hedges has
only one opening, called échalier, which is sometimes a kind of
gate like those which enclose sheep-folds; more frequently it is
made out of wood from the hedges themselves, and, set in the
hedge, it does not look any different from the hedges
themselves to the eye of a stranger, especially in winter. The
native of the country will make straight for this hurdle, which he
knows, but other persons have generally to go along all four
sides of the fields before they can discover the way out. These
hedges thoroughly explain the tactics employed in the Vendean
War: to shoot accurately without being seen; to fly when the
shot has been fired through the opening without the risk of
being hit. Besides, with the exception of la Rochejaquelein's fine
harangue: 'If I advance, follow; if I retreat, kill me; if I die,
avenge me!' the leaders hardly ever uttered any other words
before battle than the simpler and indeed clearer ones to the
peasantry: 'Egayez-vous, mes gars!' which meant, 'Make
yourselves scarce, my lads!' Then each copse would conceal a
man with his gun—before, behind, on each side of the
advancing army; the hedges would blaze forth, bullets whistle
past one another and soldiers fall before they had time to
discover from what side the storm of fire was coming! Finally,
tired of seeing their dead lying in heaps at the bottom of these
defiles, the Blues would rush off in each direction, climb the
bank, scale the hedges and, losing half of their men in the
process, would arrive at the top, only to see a sudden cessation
of the firing: everything had disappeared as by magic, and
nothing could be seen, far or near, but a country as prettily
mapped out as an English garden, and here and there a sharp-
pointed slate-roofed tower, piercing the misty western skies, or
the red roof of a farmhouse standing out against a green
background of oaks, beeches and walnut trees. These lanes or,
properly speaking, defiles, which at first sight appear only to
have been hollowed out by the hoofs of oxen, are natural
staircases formed by the inequalities of the ground, over which
only the little horses of the country can walk surefooted. We
must say a little about these horses and the manner of driving
them. In summer the lanes are picturesque enough, but in
winter they are impracticable, as the slightest rainfall turns each
of them into the bed of a torrent, and then, for nearly four
months of the year, communication is established by foot and
across country. But let us return to the horses. The cleverest
riding-master in Franconi's would find himself at a disadvantage,
I believe, if he were perched up on one of the huge Breton
saddles, which rise out of the middle of the animal's back like a
dromedary's hump. And as to the animal himself, the rider
might imagine he could guide him by the help of bridle and
knees; but he would very quickly find out that the legs of the
Vendean rider are only used for preserving his balance, and that
the bridle is of no use except to pull his mount up short by
reining him in hard with both hands. After a little practice,
however, he would learn to assist himself with the cudgel, and
this it is which takes the place in Breton horsemanship of the
use of one's knees and the bridle. In order to turn the horse to
the right you must hit him over the left ear with the cudgel, and
vice versâ; and in this manner, which simplifies the art of the
Larives and the Pelliers enormously, one guides the animal by
roads that would turn a Basque dizzy!
"This picture, however, of the lanes and riders who frequent
them, is beginning to change in the departments of la Vendée
and of the Loire-Inférieure, where Bonaparte had roads cut; but
it is still correct as regards the department of Deux-Sèvres and
especially the southern half of the department of Maine-et-
Loire.
"It is in these latter portions of the country, therefore, that the
Vendean politicians took shelter. There, the opposition to any
form of Liberal government is energetic and flagrant. Happily, as
if in defiance, civilisation has surrounded them with a girdle of
Liberal townships, which starts from Bourbon Vendée, crosses
Chollet, Saumur and Angers, reappears at Nantes and even runs
over into la Vendée itself, at Clisson, which is a sort of forlorn
outpost from whence alarm could be given in case of a rising. A
single road passes through this country at one corner, in the
shape of a Y; the tail standing for the route from Chollet to
Trémentines, and the two forks, those from Trémentines to
Angers and Saumur—this latter road is not even a posting route.
La Vendée, then, consists nowadays of a single department,
without exit for attack or flight.
"Four very distinct classes of individuals are active in the midst
of this political furnace: the nobles or gros, the clergy, the
bourgeoisie and the peasantry or leasehold farmers.
"The nobility is entirely opposed to any form of constitutional
system; its influence is practically evil with the bourgeoisie, but
it has immense influence over the tenant farmers who are
nearly all in its pay. For instance, here is a case in point: the
Marquis of la Bretèche alone possesses one hundred and four
farmsteads; suppose each farm contains merely three men
capable of handling a gun, one word from him will bring into
action three hundred and twelve armed peasants!
"The clergy share the opinions of the nobles and have a greater
influence still through their pulpits and the confessional.
"The bourgeoisie are, therefore, the interior of the triangle
formed by the nobility, which lays down its laws, the clergy who
preach them and the people who accept them.
"So the proportion of Liberals in this department (I am referring
to the interior) is scarcely one to fifteen: the tricolour flag is
nowhere to be seen, in spite of the formal order of the prefect;
and the priests will not chant the Domine salvum except under
special command of the bishop.
"The pole to which the white flag was affixed still exists, and by
its very nakedness acts as a protest against the tricolour flag;
but the priests recommend from their pulpits that Louis-Philippe
should be prayed for, as he must inevitably be assassinated. So
the agitation goes on incessantly. It is upheld by meetings of
from forty to fifty nobles, which take place once or twice a
week, either at Lavoirs, or at Herbiers, or at Combouros. The
means they make use of for exciting the people is the
withholding of newspapers, which are only brought by specially
appointed agents, the post only passing through Beaupréau,
Chemillé and Chollet. Among the towns and villages which make
no kind of secret of their hopes of another insurrection must be
reckoned, first and foremost, those of Beaupréau, Montfaucon,
Chemillé, Saint-Macaire, le May and Trémentines. The heart of
the Royalist revolution is centred at Montfaucon; were it
extinguished throughout the whole of France, the pulse of civil
war would still beat here. A revolution would infallibly break out
if the dauphin or Madame appeared among the people, or even
on a day when war should be declared between France and any
foreign power, specially if that power were to be England, and if,
for the third time, it were to pour men and arms along the
coast, which is only from ten to eleven leagues' distance from
the department of Maine-et-Loire, where it is an easy matter to
smuggle men and weapons in through the opening between
Clisson and Chollet.
"The following seem to us to be the best means of preventing
an insurrection:—
"I. To make roads. Generally people only see in a road formed
right across an impracticable country facility offered for the
extension of commerce. The Government, if of liberal views,
sees it as a political means to its own end; civilisation follows
commerce, and liberty civilisation. Relations with other
departments will deprive the one to be feared of its primitive
wildness; reliable information will quickly spread and false
reports be as quickly disproved; post-offices will be opened in all
the chief towns of the district; the gendarmerie will be
established in regular and active service; then, finally, troops
will, in case of need, be marched all over the district in an
impressive manner. The roads to be made in the department of
Maine-et-Loire should run from Palet to Montfaucon, passing
through Saint-Crespin. At Montfaucon the road should branch
off into two, one going to Beaupréau by la Renaudiére, Villedieu
and la Chapelle-au-Genêt; the other should proceed as far as
Romagne, where it should rejoin the one from Chollet via la
Jarrie and Roussay. The commerce that would spring up along
these roads would be in Anjou wines, Bretagne cattle and the
linens of Chollet. At the present time it can only be carried on
by means of ox waggons which do not overturn, but which, by
reason of the bad roads, have to be drawn by a team of eight or
ten beasts for a single carriage very slightly loaded; or else
goods are carried on the backs of men. These roads should be
made by the workmen of the country itself, so as to distribute
money among the poor classes; for the peasants know the
places where the best road metal can be obtained; also because
the nobles, whose positive intention it is to oppose the opening
of such roads, would easily rouse the peasantry againt strange
workmen, who would draw pay that the natives would regard as
their own legitimate due; because, finally, the peasants chosen
to make these roads would themselves oppose any attempts on
the part of the nobility to prevent their execution.
"2. To transfer into villages across the Loire ten or twelve
priests, raising their stipends some hundred francs or so to
prevent them posing as martyrs—especially those from
Tiffanges, Montauban, Torfou and Saint-Crespin. To send into
the parishes in their place priests whom the Government can
safely trust. These priests would have nothing to fear; their
sacred office would protect them from the peasants, who might
detest them as men, but would respect their cassocks.
"3. A large proportion of the nobles who meet together to
discuss the means for renewing civil war enjoy very
considerable pensions, which the Government continues paying
them; nothing would be easier than to catch them in the very
act, and then the Government could justifiably cease paying
these pensions, and divide the money in equal proportions
between the old Vendean and Republican soldiers, whose
mutual hatred would gradually die down as quarter days
succeeded one another.
"In this way, there would in the future be no possibility of fresh
Vendean risings, since on the slightest outbreak the Government
would only have to stretch out its arm and to scatter troops
along the main roads to separate gatherings.
"If people think that these men, enlightened in their views since
1792, have reached the point of never rising again under the
influence of fanaticism and superstition, they are strangely
mistaken; even those that Bonaparte's conscription drew from
their homes and took away out into the world have gradually
lost their temporary enlightenment since they returned to their
hearths again and resumed their primitive ignorance. I will cite
one instance of this. I went shooting with a fine old soldier who
had served a dozen years under Napoleon. On the slope of a hill
near la Jarrie a stone was standing a dozen feet high that was
in the shape of an inverted cone, touching the mountain by one
of its upper edges and at its base, which was as narrow as the
crown of a hat, resting on a large boulder of rock; although this
stone weighed from seven and a half to ten tons, it was so
perfectly balanced that a man could easily shake it with his
hand. I thought it was a Druidical monument, but, not trusting
to the false teaching of educated men, which so often is upset
by the rude simplicity of peasants, I called to my companion
and asked him what this stone was and who had put it there.
"'The devil!' he replied, with a conviction which did not seem to
fear the faintest denial on my side.
"'The devil, did you say?' I repeated, in astonishment.
"'Yes,' he replied.
"'But what did he do it for?'
"'You see from here the stream of la Maine ... over there down
in the bottom of the valley?'
"'Perfectly.'
"'Well, then, you can make out a spot where one could cross it
on stepping-stones which rise to the surface of the water were
it not that just in the middle of these stones there is a gap.'
"'Yes.'
"'Well! that gap ought to be refilled by the rock we are now
leaning against.'
"'It is certainly hewn in such a way as to fit in exactly and to
dissipate the effect of want of continuity caused by its absence.'
"'I do not follow what you mean,' replied the peasant; 'but this
is how it came about. The devil was building a bridge on which
to cross over the river in order to steal the farmers' cows; he
had finished it all but this one stone, which he was carrying on
his shoulder, forgetting that the day he was going to finish his
work was a Sunday, when, all of a sudden, he caught sight of
the procession from Roussay, which also saw him. Whereat the
priest made the sign of the cross, and very soon Satan's
strength began to go from him; he was obliged to put the stone
down here and for ever, just where we are, as he never will be
 able to raise it again. That is why the bridge is broken and why
this stone shakes.'
"As this explanation was as good as any other, I was obliged to
be contented with it, since had I given him my own version, it
would probably have sounded as absurd to him as his did to
me."

At the end of six weeks, thanks to my guide, who accompanied me

all over, I knew the country as well as, and perhaps even a good
deal better than, one of its own inhabitants, both la Vendée of the
past and la Vendée of the future. I said good-bye to Madame
Villenave and her daughter, kissed little Élisa on her forehead and set
off to Nantes. The company of my Vendean was unnecessary farther
than Clisson, and I parted with him after trying to make him accept
some reward for the services he had rendered me; but he
obstinately refused, saying that, no matter what he had done or
might still be able to do for me, he should be eternally my debtor.
We embraced and I took my departure, but he stood where I left
him, waving to me whenever I turned round. I lost sight of him
round a corner, and all was ended between us. I do not know
whether he is alive or dead, whether he has forgotten me or still
keeps at the bottom of his heart that precious stone called gratitude,
or whether he has cast it so far away from him that he will never be
able to find it again. I reached Nantes an hour and a half after I left
him.

CHAPTER IX

The Nantes Revolution—Régnier—Paimbœuf—Landlords and

travellers—Jacomety—The native of la Guadeloupe and his wife
—Gull shooting—Axiom for sea-bird shooting—The captain of la
Pauline—Woman and swallow—Lovers' superstition—Getting
under sail
Nantes, like Paris, had had its revolution; its Raguse, who had given
orders to fire upon the people; and its people, who had crushed
Raguse. They pointed out houses to me that were almost as much
marked as the Louvre or the Institut; the firing was so well
maintained by the Royal troops that a young man named Petit had
from a single discharge received three bullets in his arm, one in his
chest and a gunshot wound right down his face; the latter had been
fired from a window by a compatriot of his. The wounded man was
recovering well; but one of his friends who had only received a
charge of buckshot was at the point of death. If he died, he would
make the eleventh who had lost his life in that secondary affray.
Régnier—who was at that time a charming comedian and who later
became one of the main pillars of the Comédie-Française—happened
to be at Nantes at the time, giving a series of representations, that
were much run after.
I spent two or three days in the midst of old recollections of the
Revolution, renewed for me by M. Villenave, who, as we know,
nearly played the part of victim in the great drama composed by the
Convention, which was put into action by Carrier. If there is a name
on earth execrated by the public, it is that of Carrier!
I left Nantes for Paimbœuf. I had only seen the sea at Havre, where
I was told it scarcely deserved the name; so I was curious to behold
a real sea, a stormy sea, one which even sailors call la mer sauvage.
I do not know anything more melancholy on earth than that band of
houses, called Paimbœuf, which fringes the Loire for five or six
hundred yards! One seems to be a thousand miles from Paris, and
outside the pale of civilisation, confronted with these brave fellows
who live by a river as wide as a sea almost, and who seem occupied
with nothing outside the mending of their nets and going fishing. I
wondered how the revolutions of the Parisian crater could possibly
matter to them, seeing that its lava could not reach them, nor could
they ever see even its flame or smoke.
But that did not matter to them, for at Paimbœuf they were boldly
talking of another Vendean insurrection. Furthermore, the distance
that separates Paimbœuf from Paris makes the very essentials of life
of such a price as is beyond the conception of people in the central
provinces of France to realise. The traveller who has heard of the
cheapness of its fish; of lobsters being sold at six to eight sous,
turbots at two francs, and skates—which no one will eat—and
shrimps being flung at your feet, is labouring under a mythical
delusion: for him, the prices at inns are very nearly the same all
over; north, south, east and west, landlords adopt an even tariff
which never lets the traveller come off too well in the matter of
expenses.
We dined at the Philippe of the place, which was called Jacomety;
our table d'hôte dinner cost us fifty sous—only between ten to
twenty sous difference between other table-d'hôte tariffs all over the
kingdom. At this meal, near me, a young, sad-looking woman was
dining; or, rather, was not dining, for she ate nothing. Her husband,
on her right hand, was attending to her with the solicitude of a lover,
and yet, every few minutes, the breast of the lovely one in distress
would heave with sobs, tears would come to her eyelids and, in spite
of her efforts to restrain them, they rolled down her cheeks. I could
not refrain from listening to the conversation of my two neighbours;
I soon learnt that the young man was a native of Guadeloupe, and
had just married this charming young woman from the
neighbourhood of Tours, whom he was transplanting from the
garden of France to that of the Antilles. The poor child, apart from
the confidence which she had just placed in that blind side of life
which we call the future, knew nothing of the country to which she
was going, and, until she could have children who would suck her
milk and dry her tears, she mourned for the friends and relatives she
was leaving behind in the old land of Europe and, probably, for the
old continent itself too. At the same table was dining the captain of
the vessel which was to take the young married pair over seas; and
it was from him that I learnt most of these details. They were to set
sail the next day. I asked his leave to go on board and to stay till his
ship sailed, which he readily granted me. The boat was at anchor
between Paimbœuf and Saint-Nazaire, and was called la Pauline. She
was a pretty three-masted trader with very graceful lines, and of five
or six hundred tons.
I did not say anything of my plan to my two neighbours, certain
that, indifferent to them as I was, the next day at the moment of
leaving I should become even more to them than a fellow-
countryman—namely, a friend! I spent the rest of that day by the
river banks shooting at ordinary gulls and blackheaded gulls, amazed
that they did not fall. A native sportsman, amused at my
disappointment, whom I approached to question as to whether the
Loire, like the Styx, had the property of rendering invulnerable the
men and animals which bathed in its waters, informed me, to my
great surprise, that, for want of the knowledge of measuring
maritime distances, I was firing from double the ordinary length of
range. He laid down the following rules as essential:—
Never fire at a sea-bird unless you can distinctly see its eye; when
you see its eye, its body is within range of your lead.
I instantly applied this maxim to practice. I waited patiently; I let a
gull come near enough for me to see its eye distinctly like a little
black speck, then I fired, and; the bird fell. The purveyor of these
counsels bowed and continued his shooting, pleased with himself for
having taught something to a Parisian.
I reproduce the lesson just as it was given me; one cannot spread
abroad a truth too widely, no matter whether small or great.
I forget which philosopher it was who said that, if he had his hands
full of truths, he would have them surrounded by a circle of fire for
fear he should open them absent-mindedly and let the truths
escape. I should open both my hands and blow the truths abroad
with all my might. Nothing flies so slowly and haltingly as the real
truth! But, as a truth always costs something to somebody, the one I
have just divulged cost the life of three or four great gulls.
Upon my return to the hotel I did not see our bride and bridegroom;
they had retired into their own room.
After eight o'clock in the evening, at the end of September, there are
not many diversions in Paimbœuf, so I followed the example of the
young couple and retired to my room, giving orders that I was to be
waked in time to take advantage of the first ship's boat that was
going out to la Pauline. The captain himself knocked at my door. I
think the worthy man had, during the night, under the sweet and
deceiving dew of sleep, let the hope spring up in his heart of taking
me on the voyage with him. He extolled the delights of a long
voyage on board a good vessel, spoke of his cook, whom he rated
far higher than Jacomety's, and praised his table, which was
unrivalled by any other than that of the Rocher de Cancale in Paris.
The captain had dined once at the Rocher de Cancale, and he never
missed a chance of putting in a good word as to the excellence of
Borel's cuisine.
It was still lovely late summer weather, and, as I simply meant to
pay a short call on la Pauline, I was clad only in nankeen trousers, a
white piqué waistcoat and a velvet jacket. These details, as will soon
be seen, are not without their importance to those who have learnt
to their cost what it is to suffer from cold. This was the first time I
had seen at such close quarters a ship that was on the point of
sailing. I had indeed been over one or two steamers at Havre that
were bound for Boston or New Orleans; but the elegance of these
boats, which are fitted up for carrying passengers, makes them
seem more like hotels, like furnished apartments and like the
corridors of theatres, than like ships. But the Pauline, on the
contrary, was a thoroughbred three-master. I examined every little
thing about her with a curiosity that enabled me to hope that some
day, if occasion offered itself, I might be able to write novels
connected with the sea, like Cooper's, or, at any rate, like those of
Eugène Sue. I was in the full flush of my examination when the boat
came alongside for the second time, bringing the young couple and
their luggage. The young wife made no attempt to restrain her
tears, but wept abundantly and openly. So she did not see me come
towards the starboard companion, and when I gave her my hand to
help her from the ladder to the bridge she uttered a little cry of
surprise.
"Ah! monsieur!" she said, "are you also going to Guadeloupe?"
"Alas! no, madame," I said; "greatly to my regret I am not; but it is
precisely because I am remaining behind that you find me here."
"I do not understand you, monsieur."
"I noticed your sadness, and know that you are leaving those who
are very dear to you. Therefore, as I am a fellow-countryman of
yours, I thought I would take your last messages to your friends."
"Oh, monsieur," she said, "how good of you!"
And she looked at her husband as if to ask him how far she might
enter into a conversation of this nature with a stranger.
He smiled, and held out his hand, and with one quick glance gave
his wife leave to do what she liked.
"Yes," he said, "be so good as to take my dear Pauline's last farewell
messages to her family; and tell her mother especially, if you see
her, that in less than three years' time we will come back and pay
her a visit."
"Three years!" murmured the young wife dubiously.
"And tell this foolish child, monsieur," he went on, kissing his wife's
forehead, "that it is easier to get to and from Guadeloupe now than
it was in old days to get to Saint-Cloud.... I am not yet thirty, and I
have already made a dozen voyages between Pointe-à-Pître and
Nantes."
"Yes, my dear! You tell me that now, but eighteen hundred leagues
is a long way!"
"Six weeks' voyage ... that isn't much surely?"
I pointed out to the young wife a swallow which was skimming
about the masts.
"That bird takes just such a voyage twice a year, madame," I said to
her, "guided by its instinct alone."
"Yes, but it is a bird," she said, sighing.
I tried to give a fresh turn to the conversation.
"Monsieur," I said to the husband, "I heard you addressing madame
as Pauline... La Pauline is the name of the boat on which we are
standing; is it a mere coincidence or by your own selection that the
names are the same?"
"It was my own choice, monsieur; there were three or four ships in
the river, and I decided on this one.... I thought that besides her
saintly patron I would give her one in addition.... Are you amused at
my superstition?"
"Not at all, monsieur, quite the reverse. I appreciate all superstitions
—particularly those which have love as their basis. It has always
seemed to me impossible to love sincerely without feeling vague
terrors on behalf of the beloved object, that make even the stoutest
hearted a prey to superstitious feelings."
The young wife listened to me for a little while.
"Oh, monsieur," she then began, holding out her hand, "what a kind
idea it was of yours to see us off!"
"I hope then, madame, that you will depute me to carry any last
messages to your family."
"I wrote to my mother this morning, monsieur, but if you happen to
be stopping at Tours, and have a little time to spare, be so good as
to inquire for the house of Madame M——, and tell her you met us
and saw us on the ship, and that you were witness" (she smiled
rather doubtfully) "that Léopold promised to bring me back to France
in three years' time."
"I will tell her, madame; and I will undertake to be surety for your
husband's word."
Meantime, operations were taking place on board preparatory to
sailing. The wind was east-south-east, just right for sailing out of the
river; they had only been waiting for the tide to turn before making
a quick start with the combined assistance of both wind and tide.
Thus, all of a sudden, the captain's voice made us start. The pilot
had just arrived from Saint-Nazaire, and the captain was issuing his
first order: "Heave short at the anchor!" At this unexpected order,
the poor traveller seemed as though she realised for the first time
that she must actually leave France. She uttered a little cry, and
threw herself on her husband's breast and burst into sobs. I took
advantage of this renewed outflow of tears to quit the newly-married
pair, and to tell the captain I was ready to return to shore at his
convenience.
"Eh!" he said, "are you in such a hurry to leave us? I had counted on
keeping you to luncheon and to dinner—or at any rate to luncheon;
for," he added, looking at the sky, "I doubt there won't be many
passengers dining to-day."
"Good!" I replied; "but, when at sea, how did you propose to get rid
of me?"
"The easiest way imaginable: you would have returned to land with
the coasting pilot."
"Stop! Is that really possible?"
"Everything is possible that one wants very much."
"Well then, I will have luncheon with you."
"Then you will not leave us until we get to Piliers; you will return
with the pilot, to whom you can give a crown-piece, and you will
pass for an Englishman who wanted a taste of sea-sickness."
"Done! Arrange matters with him for me."
He called to the pilot, spoke a few words to him in a whisper,
pointed me out with a glance, and the pilot nodded in sign of
acquiescence.
"There," said the captain, "that matter is fixed up all right!"
Then, addressing the sailors who had been heaving the anchor
apeak, he said—
"Up aloft with you and let go the top-sails and the courses, the jibs
and the spanker!"
"Ah, captain," I said, "do not go and serve me the trick that
Bougainville did to his friend the curé of Boulogne!"
"Oh, no fear of that! Besides, I am not going all round the world!"[1]
Lastly, turning to his men, he shouted—
"Get ready to hoist and haul in the top-sails!"
The story of Bougainville and the curé of Boulogne is a popular one
in the French navy, and, as you see, the captain answered me just
as a communicant answers a question on the Catechism. Now, as it
is quite possible that my reader may not be a sailor, and that ladies,
in particular, may be quite unacquainted with the legend to which I
have just referred, I will tell in as few words as possible the story of
Bougainville and the curé of Boulogne. Then we will return to our
two Paulines.

[1] See le curé de Boulogne, p. 59 of vol. ii. of Bric-à-Brac.

CHAPTER X

Story of Bougainville and his friend the curé of Boulogne

On 14 November of the year 1766, an open carriage, drawn by post-

horses, containing three naval officers, one seated on the front seat
and the other two on the back one,—which signified a decided
difference in their rank,—was driving along the Bois de Boulogne,
É
coming from the barrière de l'Étoile> and going towards the Avenue
de Saint-Cloud. By the Château de la Muette it passed a priest who
was walking slowly along in one of the side-walks reading his
breviary.
"Hi! postillion!" shouted the officer sitting at the back of the
carriage; "stop a moment, please."
The postillion stopped. This request, given in a loud voice, and the
noise the postillion made pulling up his horses, naturally led to the
priest raising his head and fixing his eyes on the carriage and its
three occupants.
"Pardieu! I am not mistaken," said the officer sitting behind; "it is
really you, my dear Rémy!"
The priest gazed in astonishment. However, his face gradually
cleared as light dawned on him, and his lips turned from amazement
to smiles.
"Ah!" he said at length, "it is you!"
"Why you (vous)?"
"It is thou (toi) then, Antoine."
"Yes, it is I, Antoine de Bougainville."
"Mon Dieu! What have you been doing with yourself during the
twenty-five years since we parted?"
"What have I been doing with myself, dear friend?" repeated
Bougainville. "Come and sit down by me a few minutes and I will tell
you."
"But ..." The priest looked round him uneasily, as though he were
afraid to go far away from his home, Bougainville understood his
fear.
"Do not be anxious; we will go at a walking pace," he replied.
A valet got down from the seat behind and lowered the step.
"It is a quarter past eleven," said the priest, "and Marianne expects
me for dinner at twelve."
"In the first place—where do you live? But sit down, though!"
He lightly drew the priest by his gown, and the priest sat down.
"Where do I live?" asked the latter.
"Yes."
"At Boulogne.... I am curé of Boulogne, friend."
"Ah! ah! I offer you my congratulations; you always had the
vocation."
"So, you see, I entered Orders."
"Are you satisfied?"
"Enchanted, my friend! The curé of Boulogne is not one of the best:
it only has an income of eight hundred livres; but my tastes are
modest, and there still remain four hundred livres over to give away
to the poor."
"Good Rémy!... You can go at a slow trot, so that we lose as little
time as possible."
The postillion set the horses to the required pace, which, moderate
though it was, none the less brought a cloud of distress on the
curé's countenance.
"Set your mind at rest," said Bougainville, "seeing we are going in
the direction of Boulogne."
"Friend," the Abbé Rémy said, laughing, "I have been curé of
Boulogne for twenty years; Marianne has been fifteen years with
me, and never, except when detained by the side of a dying
parishioner, have I been five minutes later than twelve; punctually at
twelve the soup is on the table, and ... you understand?"
"Yes; don't be afraid, I do not want to upset Marianne.... You shall
be home exactly by twelve."
"Now my mind is easy.... But talk about yourself a little: are you not
wearing the uniform of the Navy?"
"Yes; I am captain of a ship."
"How comes that about? I thought you were a barrister—Really?—
when you left college did you not begin to study law?"
"What is to be done, my dear Rémy? You, God's anointed, ought to
know better than anyone the proverb:
"'Man proposes and God disposes.' It is true I was entered as a
barrister in 1752 at the High Judicial Court of Paris."
"Ah! I knew it!" said the good priest, withdrawing the finger from his
breviary, which marked the place where he had left off reading. "So
you did become a barrister?"
"Yes; but at the same time that I was called to the Bar," continued
Bougainville, "I enlisted in the Musketeers."
"Oh, indeed! You always had a taste for arms and a special talent for
mathematics."
"You remember that?"
"Why, of course! Was I not your best friend at College?" "Ah, that is
very true!"
"Is it you or your brother Louis who belongs to the Academy?"
Bougainville smiled.
"It is my brother," he said; "or rather, it was, for you must know that
I had the misfortune to lose him three years ago."
"Ah! poor Louis.... But what can you expect. We are all mortal, and it
is well to look upon this life as a voyage which leads us to port....
Pardon, friend, it seems to me we are passing Boulogne."
Bougainville looked at his watch.
"Bah!" said he, "what does it matter! It is only half-past eleven, and
consequently you have still a good twenty minutes before you.—
Faster, postillion!"
"Why faster?"
"Because you are in a hurry, my friend."
"Bougainville!..."
"What! does not the wish to know what I have been doing outweigh
your fear of upsetting Marianne by being five minutes late?... That is
a queer sort of friendship, to be sure!"
"You are right, upon my word; five minutes more or less.... Tell me
about yourself, my dear Antoine. Besides, when I tell Marianne that
it was for you and through you I am late, she will stop scolding."
"Marianne knows me, then?"
"Knows you? Of course she does! I have spoken to her of you a
score of times.... But be quick and finish telling me how it is that,
having been called to the Bar, and after enlisting in the Musketeers, I
find you a naval officer."
"It is very simple, and I can explain it all to you in a word. In 1753 I
became assistant-major in the provincial battalion of Picardie; the
following year I was appointed aide-de-camp to Chevert, whom I left
to become Secretary to the Embassy in London, and to be made a
member of the Royal Society; in 1756 I went as captain of dragoons
with the Marquis of Montcalm, charged with the defence of Canada..
"Capital! capital!" interrupted the Abbé Rémy. "I can see you doing
it! Go on, my friend, I am listening."
The abbé, completely fascinated by Bougainville's narrative, had not
noticed that the horses had quietly passed from a slow to a quick
trot. Bougainville continued his story.
"When in Canada, I was pretty much master of my future; I had but
to conduct myself well to attain to anything. I was put in charge of
several expeditions by the Marquis de Montcalm, which I brought to
a successful issue. Thus, for instance, after a march of sixty leagues
through forests which were believed to be impenetrable, sometimes
over tracks of country covered with snow, sometimes on the ice of
the river Richelieu, I advanced as far as the end of the lake of Saint-
Sacrement, where I burned an English flotilla under the very fort
which protected it."
"What!" said the abbé, "was it you who did that? Why, I read the
account of that event; but I did not know you were the hero...."
"Did you not recognise my name?"
"I knew the name but not the man.... How could you expect I should
recognise in a member of the Basoche, whom I left studying law,
and aspiring to become a barrister, a dashing fellow who burns fleets
in the far-away depths of Canada?... You can surely see that it was
impossible!"
At this moment the carriage stopped before a posting-house.
"Oh!" said the Abbé Rémy, "where are we, Antoine?"
"We are at Sèvres, my friend."
"At Sèvres! What time is it?"
Bougainville looked at his watch.
"It is ten minutes to twelve."
"Oh! Mon Dieu!" exclaimed the abbé, "but I shall never be at
Boulogne by noon."
"That is more than probable."
"A league to go!"
"A league and a half."
"If only I could find a posting-carriage...."
He rose to his feet in the carriage and cast a look round him as far
as his sight could reach, but there was no sign of even the smallest
sort of vehicle.
"Never mind," he said, "I will walk."
Welcome to our website – the perfect destination for book lovers and
knowledge seekers. We believe that every book holds a new world,
offering opportunities for learning, discovery, and personal growth.
That’s why we are dedicated to bringing you a diverse collection of
books, ranging from classic literature and specialized publications to
self-development guides and children's books.

More than just a book-buying platform, we strive to be a bridge

connecting you with timeless cultural and intellectual values. With an
elegant, user-friendly interface and a smart search system, you can
quickly find the books that best suit your interests. Additionally,
our special promotions and home delivery services help you save time
and fully enjoy the joy of reading.

Join us on a journey of knowledge exploration, passion nurturing, and

personal growth every day!

ebookbell.com