The Blacksmith's Hammer; or, The Peasant Code: A Tale of the Grand Monarch

by Eugène Sue

  CHAPTER II.

  A BRETON WEDDING.

  Tankeru was both blacksmith and wheelwright. After having long residedat Vannes with his mother and daughter, he moved with them and settleddown in an isolated house situated about a league outside of Mezlean ina hollow, at the crossing of two roads one of which skirted the forestof Mezlean. Several reasons had combined to determine Tankeru's choiceof the lonesome locality. The first was that the house stood at the footof two bluffs which rose over a granite soil, rough, rocky and uneven,where the horses and oxen that drew the heavy wagons over the road couldnot choose but lose some nails of their shoes as they climbed the steepascent; the blacksmith would be on the spot ready to repair the damage.In the second place, Tankeru counted upon indulging in the hunt in theforest of Mezlean, a sport to which he was passionately addicted. In theteeth of all the punishments decreed against illegal hunting--theprison, the whipping post, the galley, even the gallows--Tankeru gave aloose to his controlling passion in full security of conscience,claiming that the wandering beasts of the forests belonged to the bestmarksman, and that, moreover, it was a good office to keep down thenumber of wild beasts. Game belongs to all--to the villein as to thenobleman.

  On this day there was great animation in Tankeru's home. His smithy andwheelwright shop were full of relatives, friends and vassals of theneighborhood--a pale and haggard crowd, pinched by privation, alldressed in their best rags, and, for a moment, oblivious of their miseryas they came to rejoice over the wedding of Tina and Nominoe. Theyemptied the pots of cider, ate the bacon from the salt-tub, and thecakes of black bread. The daughters and wives of the invited guests,congregated in the upstairs room of the house, were lending a hand inthe last touches of the bride's toilet. Tankeru was a man of about fortyyears of age, of an open and resolute face, tall of stature, and endowedwith an athletic strength that often won for him the prize in thewrestling matches at the rustic festivals. The host was fulfilling athis best the duties of hospitality.

  "Friends," said the blacksmith, "let us empty the barrel, the salt-tuband the bread-bin. Whatever is eaten and drunk escapes the clutches ofthe King's men, the seigneurs and the clergy!" And Tankeru addedsardonically: "Fire and flames! The devil take the armed troopers andthe tonsured gentry! Comrades, we are honest folks, may Satan take thePope!"

  "If we are honest folks, Tankeru, we are also poor folks!" replied awhite-haired peasant. "Very poor folks! The royal taxes, the seigniorialimposts, the tithes of the church are ever on the increase--and still Ihear rumors of fresh taxes. Why, they took almost everything away fromus. If they take still more, what will be left to us?"

  "Why, our skin will be left to us--and who knows but they may want thatalso to turn it into hose for themselves!" put in Tankeru. "Listen, byforce of forging, shoeing, mending wagons and saving from my daily breadfor twenty years and more, I laid by a little sum for my daughter'sdower. In less than twenty months three-fourths of the sum has passedinto the bag of the tax collectors. Fire and flames! We are honestfolks! Let us empty the barrel, the salt-tub and the bread-bin! What hasbeen drunk and eaten is not seized! The devil take the tonsuredfraternity and the troopers!"

  "Tankeru, you are always saying--'We are honest folks,'" again put inthe old peasant. "You mean by that, I suppose, that we are a lot offools to allow ourselves to be plucked to the quick. But what would youhave us do, otherwise than repeat with you--'The devil take the troopersand the tonsured fraternity!'"

  Tankeru's eyes fell upon a yoke used for oxen. Its nails had fallen out,and it stood against the wall. He took it up, showed it to the vassals,broke it over his knees, and throwing the pieces at his feet said: "Thedevil take the tonsured fraternity and the troopers! That's what's to bedone!"

  These short words, together with the energetic expression of theblacksmith's countenance, produced upon the vassals an instantaneouseffect. They all rose simultaneously, clenched their fiststhreateningly, and some of them stamped angrily with their heels uponthe fragments of the yoke that Tankeru had broken. Desirous that hisguests remain under the sway of the thoughts that the incident hadawakened in their minds, Tankeru said to them:

  "I am going upstairs to see whether my daughter is ready with hertoilet. It will not be long before her bridegroom will be here."

  Tina, the betrothed of Nominoe, surrounded with her friends andrelatives who joined her grandmother in prinking up the girl, was seatedin their midst in the old dame's bedroom. It would be hard to depict tooneself a more charming and dainty girl than "Little Tina," as she wascommonly called by her companions. Her blonde hair shone like gold inthe sun; her eyes, bluer than the cornflower, reflected the sweetness ofher angelic disposition. Everything breathed gladness around her, andyet her delicate features, full of candor and grace, were expressive ofprofound sadness. Alas! Her moist eyes, piercing the glass in the leadenframe of the narrow window in the room, wandered far away, vainlyexpecting for a long time to see the nuptial procession at the head ofwhich her betrothed was to appear. Tina's friends exchanged a few wordsin a low voice, while the grandmother held in her hands the nuptialribbons--white, signifying the innocence of the bride; red, her beauty;and black, her sorrow at leaving her family. As the grandmother wasabout to tie the symbolic bunting on Tina's head, the girl emerged fromher revery, took the knot of ribbons in her hand, gazed upon it insilence, and pointing with her finger to the black, said with aheartrending sigh:

  "Grandma, this should be the only color of my nuptial ribbons--black,like the wings of a crow."

  "Still harping on the memory of that presage of evil!" said thegrandmother in a voice of affectionate reproach. "To entertain such sadthoughts on such a beautiful day is to offend God."

  "It is to listen to God, grandma! In His goodness He sends us omens inorder to prepare us for misfortune," answered Tina pensively. "Earlythis morning I stood at the window. The sun had hardly risen, butalready my eyes wandered in the direction of Mezlean. From that quarterI saw flying towards me, with wings outstretched--a crow. He flew overmy head and circled over our house emitting his lugubrious screech. Alittle turtle dove, nestled among the leaves of the large apple treethat shades our well, was at the time cooing its song of love andtenderness. The moment she heard the cawing of the crow she hid herselffrom sight among the foliage. The crow detected and pounced down uponher. In her attempt to escape she fluttered about, and happening tostumble near the edge of the well, fell in and was drowned," Tina musedaloud to herself. "God sends us omens to prepare us for misfortune!Black should be the only color of my nuptial ribbons, grandma! Onlyblack! Nominoe does not come. The hour has passed--he will not come."

  The belief in omens was so general in Brittany that, however singular orunreasonable in appearance, Tina's persistency in her presentimentsimpressed her companions. Nevertheless, Janik, the dearest of herfriends, sought to reassure the bride and said, forcing a smile upon herown lips:

  "That you should take the sweet little turtle dove to personifyyourself, I agree to, little Tina; but to see your betrothed, Nominoe,so handsome, so good and so enamoured a youth--aye, to see him in thatugly and wicked crow--fie, little Tina, fie! How can such a thoughtoccur to you!"

  "Janik is right," put in the grandmother. "Your cousin has loved yousince your childhood. You have been long betrothed. As late as yesterdayhe was here. Did he not say, as he was taking leave: 'Till to-morrow, mysweet Tina. Fools are they who are often seen to look for happiness at adistance when they can have it near at hand. Happiness to me consists injoining my fate to yours. Till to-morrow, my sweet Tina!' And after suchwords, you foolish child, and simply on account of a delay of perhaps anhour in the arrival of the nuptial procession, you begin to have evildreams and to talk to us of black ribbons, crows and birds of death!Come, cast off such mournful thoughts!"

  "In the crow I see bad luck, grandma," persisted Tina, more and moreabsorbed in her sad presentiments, and her eyes ever resting on thedesert road of Mezlean. "I see in the crow the bad luck that threatens,and perhaps is to punis
h me."

  "Punish you!" replied the grandmother no less surprised than thebride's companions. "What harm have you ever done to anybody, dear,innocent creature, as pure and innocent as a dove?"

  "I had the vanity and pride of imagining myself beloved of Nominoe.Alas! I know it; I am his own cousin; often did we sleep together, aschildren, in the same cradle; but I am only a poor, ignorant girl, whileNominoe is clever and cultured like a clerk. He has traveled and seendistant countries. He and my uncle Salaun Lebrenn are the best marinersof Vannes. They own their own vessel. They are rich, compared to myfather, who only has his forge and a few gold coins that he deprivedhimself of for my sake." Tina paused and then proceeded in a tone ofbitter self-reproach: "Oh, what I have just said is not right--it is awrong to Nominoe. He desert me out of avarice! No! no! His heart is toogenerous for that. Seeing how much I loved him, he took pity upon me. Hefeared to grieve me if he did not love me. He is so good! Yes, lastnight, as he thought of his coming here to-day to take me for his wife,he must have realized that he loved me only out of compassion. That isthe reason of his absence!"

  "Nominoe to put such an affront upon you! upon your father! upon yourfamily!" cried the grandmother interrupting Tina. "My child, you arelosing your senses! What nonsense, to imagine such cruel things simplybecause your bridegroom is a little late in coming! Return to yoursenses!"

  "Why," remarked Janik, "I can easily guess the reason of his delay. Itmust be the fault of the Baz-valan. That Paskou the Long, the longestand most talkative of all tailors that I have ever seen, must have hadthe notion of composing a new song in honor of your wedding, and he istrying to commit it to memory. That is the reason of the delay. But theymust now be on the way."

  Suddenly Tina, who, unmindful of the consoling words with which hergrandmother and friends strove to allay her fears, did not remove herfixed and moist eyes from the deserted Mezlean road--suddenly Tinaseemed electrified; she rose, uttered a slight cry of joy, and,transfigured and radiant, stretched out both her arms towards an objectin the distance. The shock of joy, the sudden revulsion from despair,caused her to turn pale and stagger. She leaned upon her grandmother,embraced her effusively, and muttered in a voice that gladness seemed tochoke: "Nominoe is coming! There he is now! There he comes!"

  The bride's friends crowded to the window. At a distance they saw thefront ranks of the nuptial procession descending the slope of thehighway, preceded by the Baz-valan, who bestrode his little white horseand held aloft the sprig of broom in blossom. Tankeru entered at thatmoment, announcing gaily:

  "Attention! There comes the procession! Are you ready, my littledaughter? What! Your nuptial ribbons are not yet tied in your hair!"

  Only at that moment did the blacksmith notice the pallor of Tina's face,and the traces of recent tears in her eyes. Turning to the grandmother,uneasy and even alarmed, he inquired: "Mother! What has happened? Thegirl has been weeping. She weeps--and on such a day as this! What is thecause of her grief?"

  "Good father!" answered Tina to whose plump and chaste cheeks the roseswere rapidly returning, "I was crazy! A sad presage oppressed me thismorning, despite myself. The procession was delayed so long in coming--Ithought Nominoe had deserted me!"

  "Fire and flames!" cried the blacksmith, his face assuming an ominousappearance. "Such an outrage!" But immediately interrupting himself headdressed his daughter in a tone of affectionate reproof: "It is you,dear child, who, surely without intending it, wronged Nominoe and hisfather, the husband of your mother's sister, in believing them capableof breaking faith."

  "Friend Tankeru, they are waiting for you!" said one of the peasants,stepping into the room. "The Baz-valan has alighted. He has knockedtwice at the house door. Cousin Madok, in his capacity of 'Brotaer,' isgoing to answer the summons of Paskou the Long. The one is as pert asthe other. The answer will match the demand."

  "Quick, quick, little Tina!" said the grandmother. "Let me adjust theribbons in your hair. The Brotaer will call for you in a minute. Come!Make haste! We must be ready when called!"

  "Oh! Grandma," said Tina, bending to her grandmother her virginalforehead, "the Brotaer will not have to call me twice!" And radiant withjoy and pink with agitation, she raised to heaven her limpid eyes, thata moment before were veiled in sadness, but now shone sweetly, like acornflower glistening in the morning dew.

  When the nuptial procession was near the house of the bride it stopped.The guests alighted from their rustic wagons and formed a circle. Paskouthe Long leaped to the ground, entrusted his mount to one of hisapprentices who officiated as a page, and holding in his hand his freshsprig of broom, and swaying his long body with the conscious importanceof a personage upon whom all eyes are centered, the Baz-valan steppedalone to the house door, which was kept closed, and knocked. The dooropened; a relative of Tankeru, a miller named Madok, a pert and jollyfellow, appeared at the threshold. He was to fill the office of"Brotaer," or god-father to the bride, and meet and answer theBaz-valan, the bridegroom's messenger. Paskou the Long began hisoration, modulating his voice to a slow rythm, that imparted to hissentences the sound of a measured recitative:

  "In the name of the Lord God--peace to this house, and blessings uponits roof-tree--and greater bliss than I enjoy on earth."

  "What is the matter with you, friend?" mischievously interrupted Madokthe Brotaer. "Why should not your heart be glad--the heart of one whocauses others to laugh so much--to laugh at your long neck and your longlegs, and your long arms! Paskou the Long, my friend, what is the griefthat you nurse at your heart?"

  "Tut! Tut! Tut! my friend Madok," the Baz-valan replied, "very long aremy legs; still, they do not prevent the King's men from catching me,from grabbing me by the neck and saying: 'Pay! pay! pay!--pay overagain! pay all the time!' Very long are my arms, but the arms of thebailiff of our seigneur, and of the tithes-collector of the curate arelonger still! They are so long that they can reach down to the verybottom of my pockets, even if they were as bottomless as the wells ofMelusine! Quite long is my neck--and yet, Monseigneur the Governor ofBrittany could stretch it out still longer--aye, my poor long neck! Thatis the reason, my friend, why I am not among the most gladsome ofearth."

  "Oh! how true is the proverb--how squarely the proverb hits the nailupon the head when it says: It takes nine tailors to make one man. Theproverb is applicable to you," replied Madok.

  "It takes just as many asses to make one miller, friend Brotaer--or, Ishould rather say, Seigneur Windmill!" returned Paskou the Long. "Go to,and grind your grain!"

  "Well answered, Seigneur of the Needle and Thread!" said Madok. "Andyet, I repeat it--what a poor, inconsequential one-ninth of a man youare! There you are, whimpering and all in a fright as you speak ofmonseigneur, of monseigneur our Governor. Aye, your long face frowns andbecomes still longer. And yet, just tell me, when you start to speak ofa good fat pig, good and fat, a pig with such a belly that he can hardlymove his body, so club-cheeked that one can no longer see his littlepeepers, hidden under three folds of fat--tell me, is it not true thatthen your long face grows longer still--so much do you rejoice, sobrimful of admiration are you when you speak of such a fat andincomparable pig? How comes it, then, my friend, that you do notlikewise rejoice when you speak of monseigneur--of monseigneur ourGovernor? Answer my question."

  The wedding guests received with loud outbursts of laughter the allusionof Madok the miller to the enormous obesity of Monseigneur the Duke ofChaulnes, the Governor of Brittany, whom the people nicknamed the FatPig, and whom all classes execrated on account of his severity, hishaughtiness and his merciless exactions. Paskou the Long waited untilthe hilarity of the audience subsided, and then proceeded:

  "Certes, friend Brotaer, I rejoice greatly at the thought of a big andhonest pig--provided his profitable body is intended for the salt-tub.But, Lord, when I think of a huge boar, wicked and unprofitable, whofattens, pastures and wallows upon and in my own meager pittance, inreturn for which the gormandizer grunts, steps upon my feet, turns meblack and blue but
ting against me, and bites me--is it at allastonishing if then my long face should grow still longer and look sad?But that is not the cause of my grief."

  "What may be the cause of your grief? Speak! Let me know it, friendBaz-valan," demanded the Brotaer.

  Instead of answering the Brotaer's question, Paskou the Long replied: "Ihad in my dovecote a beautiful pigeon--its plumage turned to allimaginable colors. I also had a little white dove, the constant love ofmy handsome pigeon. But, alas! my dove flew away--she flew away from mydovecote. Did you, perhaps, see her around here?"

  "No, my friend; I have not seen your dove. I do not care for such smallbirds. A fine hen suits me better."

  "But some neighbors informed me that she alighted in your yard. Ientreat you, friend, go in and inquire after my little dove. If I do notfind her, I assure you my poor pigeon will die of sadness in mydovecote."

  "In order to satisfy you, friend, I shall inquire after your dove."

  Saying these words, the Brotaer went back into the bride's house, closedthe door after him, and reopened it after a short interval holding inhis hand and leading out a little girl of about five years. He presentedher to the Baz-valan and said:

  "I went into my yard. I did not see your dove there, but I saw a largenumber of fresh buds of eglantine. Here," pointing to the child, "is oneof them. She will gladden the eyes of your pigeon, and he will feelconsoled for his loss. I make you a present of the little bud, in theplace of your dove."

  The Baz-valan embraced the child and answered: "Fresh and charming isthe little bud--but my pigeon is too sad--too sad is he over the loss ofhis dove--too sad to forget her at the sight of a little flower, howeverpretty it be. Go in again, my friend, and look and see if perhaps mydove did not fly into your garret."

  "Be satisfied--but as true as every time that he sets out--the good oldmother of the ferocious Marquis of Guerrand--rings, with tears andshudderings--the alarm bell of the castle--to warn the vassals of theMarquis to be on their guard against her merciless son--just so stubbornare you in the search of your dove--as stubborn as the taxcollectors inpursuit of the poor folks."

  With these words Madok the Brotaer re-entered the house of the bride,and speedily reappeared, leading by the hand a buxom matron of aboutthirty years of age, saying: "I climbed into my garret. The tithes, thetaxes and the imposts extorted from us by the King, the castle and thecurate, leave nothing for us to glean but wisps after the harvest.Nevertheless, in my garret did I find, escaped by accident from therapacity of the tax-gatherers, this beautiful ripe ear of tasteful andgolden wheat," and he pointed to the matron. "This beautiful ear ofwheat will console your pigeon, and he will cease to pine for his dove.I give you my ripe ear of wheat to replace your dove. Take it with you."

  "However tasteful, however golden they be, the grains of that beautifulripe ear will never tempt my pigeon. Alas, with the loss of his littlewhite dove he lost the taste for both eating and drinking. Friend,friend, I entreat you, go down into your cellar. See if, perchance, mywhite dove did not seek refuge there. Search in all the corners of yourcellar, you may find my white dove there."

  "Be at your ease, but, by heaven! the men of the royal fisc, when theypounce upon our poor houses, in pursuit of taxes and imposts, even theyare not skilful as you in rummaging a dwelling from the cellar to thegarret. I shall go look again, and see whether, by accident, your dovehas fled into my cellar."

  For a third time Madok the Brotaer re-entered the bride's house, whencehe soon again emerged holding by the hand a very old and venerablelooking woman, and said: "Into my cellar I went; I did not see your dovethere. But I did find a good old fruit," pointing to the oldgrandmother, "that was gathered long, very long ago. Despite itswrinkles, however, it has preserved its taste and flavor. Good fruitgains with time. I offer it to you for your pigeon."

  "Certes, my friend, the wrinkles of good fruit do far from hurt itsquality. Always nourishing and wholesome, such fruit ever seems moreprecious, and sweeter, when, winter having come, the summer fruits aregone. But, alas! my pigeon cares not either for your good fruit, or foryour beautiful ear of ripe wheat, or for your fresh bud of eglantine.Go, if you please, and sow your pearls before monseigneur our Governor.What my pigeon wants is his own white dove. She is here; I know she is.You only refuse to return her to me. I shall go in and look for hermyself. I must have my dear white dove, and I shall have her."

  "Friend, I shall save you the trouble. Come with me, Baz-valan, come.Your little dove is not lost. I kept her safe myself, for you. I kepther in an ivory cage, a cage with bars of gold and silver. Yes, yourdove is here. She is here, gentle, beautiful, and decked quite gaily.Your handsome pigeon need not die."

  Saying this, the Brotaer opened the house door to the Baz-valan. Thelatter beckoned to Nominoe to alight from his mount, took him by thehand, and led him into the house of his bride, followed by his relativesand friends. Tina soon appeared, led by the Brotaer and accompanied byher father and grandmother. The first looks of the young girl were forNominoe; and he, seeing her so charming, above all so radiant withhappiness, no longer regretted having overpowered his reluctance tocontract the marriage. He thought to himself: "My father was right--myrefusal would have been death to her!" Beside Nominoe stood Salaun andhis brother Gildas Lebrenn, a vassal of the Count of Plouernel on thefarm of Karnak. The more distant relatives and friends ranked themselvesalong the wall of the blacksmith's shop, leaving an empty space in themiddle in which the bride and bridegroom were placed by the Baz-valanand the Brotaer. The faces of these two officials looked no less roguishthan jovial, yet serious and solemn. The touching expression on the faceof Paskou the Long caused his ridiculous thinness to be for a momentlost sight of. Tankeru and Salaun each delivered a silver ring to theBaz-valan, which he put upon the fingers of Nominoe and Tina. After thisceremony the Brotaer said to them:

  "On your knees, my children!"

  The couple knelt down upon the bare floor, and the Brotaer proceeded:

  "Exchange the rings given to you by the Baz-valan, in token of yourindissoluble alliance."

  The bride and bridegroom exchanged rings, and the Brotaer added in agrave voice:

  "Nominoe Lebrenn, Tina Tankeru, do you swear to be joined on earth, theone to the other as your finger to your ring?"

  "Oh, I swear!" answered Tina with an expression of celestial bliss, andshe approached to her lips the ring which her bridegroom had temporarilycarried on his finger.

  "I swear!" responded Nominoe.

  At the moment of binding his life to his cousin's, Nominoe wasconstrained to wrestle for a last time with his irresolution. Beforepronouncing the irrevocable oath he was silent for an instant. Theinterval was imperceptible to all except Salaun Lebrenn. The father ofthe bridegroom realized that, at that solemn moment, his son underwent asupreme struggle with himself. His heart was gripped with pain.

  "Tina Tankeru, Nominoe Lebrenn," resumed the Brotaer, "be you two forevermore united, as the ring is to the finger. We live in evil days,oppressed and harassed as we are by the men of the King, the seigneursand the clergy. Lean upon each other in your journey through these sadtimes. May your children see better days. And now, let us proceed to thetemple. The Lord will bless those whom man has united. Let us allproceed."

  The ceremony being over, Paskou the Long took Nominoe's horse by thebridle and led the animal to the door of the house. A lighter saddle,provided behind the principal one, enabled the husband to take his wifeon the crupper of his mount. The two were considered married with theexchange of rings. Nominoe leaped upon his horse. The Brotaer, in theexercise of his office, raised Tina, light and supple as a child, in hisarms, and placed her behind her husband. The nuptial procession againput itself in motion, now back to Mezlean, whither it was preceded by aband of Armorican bag-pipers, playing lustily. Behind them came Paskouthe Long, cantering on his little white horse, and Madok the millerastride of his ass. They were followed by Nominoe with little Tinabehind him--happy--Oh, as happy as one may think, at having her arm
saround the waist of her well-beloved husband. Salaun Lebrenn and Tankerurode behind the married couple upon hired horses, while Gildas Lebrenn,his wife, and all the other relatives and friends were seated in wagonsdrawn by heavy Breton oxen. A large crowd of men, women and children onfoot brought up the rear.