The Rebellion in the Cevennes, an Historical Novel. Vol. I.

by Ludwig Tieck

  CHAPTER III.

  The Lord of Beauvais was walking up and down in his garden conversingon various subjects with his friend; as often as they passed the littleopen summer house, Eveline called out to them and directed theirattention to the building, which she was trying to imitate with cards.The Counsellor of Parliament was violently struggling with hisfeelings, and his friend was trying in vain to tranquillise him.

  "I have never yet seen you so obstinate," said the latter, at length,almost impatiently; "what is it then at last, Edmond is a young manlike many others, let him exhaust his ardour, at a later period he willafford you satisfaction, for do we not recognise in him strength,character, and a noble heart, and these must certainly producesomething good hereafter."

  "It is only towards you that I am so communicative," answered thefather, "I control my impatience in the presence of others andespecially before my son, but much as I must love him, I cannotparticipate in your hopes. Were he only hasty and inconsiderate, allmight be well for I have been so too, I would even look favourably uponhis extravagant, overstrained religious zeal and all connected with it;for early in life my own heart singularly experienced these feelings;if with all this deep-rooted self will, this violent excess in everything, he would only add an inclination to activity, if he would butinstruct himself, if he would occupy himself in any way. I feel toowell that he presents but a disfigured resemblance of a part of my ownyouth, but inwardly he is most unlike me, and in some measureinimically opposed to me; thus unhappily is the neglected education ofhis childhood avenged. You know well my old friend how much and almosthow culpably he was beloved by my deceased wife, how extravagantly sheadmired every idea, impulse and peculiarity of the child, and that Abbehis tutor also, who only excited his imagination and nourished it withlegends and miracles; his youthful mind was thus dazzled and renderedincapable of discerning truth and reality, it accustomed him to indulgefreely in all the emotions of his heart and to consider them unerringand most exalted. Imperceptibly a contempt for all, who did notcoincide with him, crept into his mind, he looked upon them as cold andperverse, and in his zealous hatred, he believed himself infinitelysuperior to them. I was too weak, too irresolute to remedy the evilwhile it was yet time, I flattered myself, that it would not take rootso easily, and when at last my suffering wife, whose feelings I everfeared to distress, died in giving birth to my youngest child, it wastoo late."

  "All that may be true," rejoined his friend, "but not so bad however asyou consider it, stupidity and madness are alone incurable; a vein ofgood runs through all really excitable natures, and the life of theseirritable and violent men is spent in continual struggles between goodand evil, so that the best part may be extracted and shine forthglorified."

  "You speak," said the Counsellor, "like a physician and chemist, youdeny that the soul can appropriate to itself immutable perversitieswhich afterwards constitute its life."

  "So long as a man is young," rejoined the former, "I despair of nothingand still less of your son, for he has never given himself up todissipation. This only and bad company ruin a man entirely, and theexhaustion is not confined to the body, it also causes vacuity of mind,it closes up every avenue to the heart, so that, finally, neitherreason nor understanding, nor any feeling for morality or honourremains. Those are such as are incurable. You reproach yourself for theindulgent education you have given him, it is not in that alone,however, my old friend, that you have neglected it; you complain ofyour son's want of activity, but you have yourself excluded him fromevery means of exercising it. When he had grown up, he was destined tofollow your profession; he had, however, an antipathy to become alawyer, and then declared he would rather be shorn and become a monk. Icannot censure him for this, forgive me, if I am too frank. He desiredto go to sea, you were inflexibly opposed to it: then he wished to tryhis fortune in the army, our efforts to win your approbation to thiswere equally ineffectual. I pity the young man; it is terrible for ahair-brained fellow to be irrecoverably destined to sit behind a table,poring over acts and processes. If you have been too indulgentformerly, you are now a great deal too severe towards him."

  "You do me wrong, infatuated man," exclaimed the Counsellor vehemently;"it was not exacting too much to require of him to pursue my profession,in which I have been so useful myself, it is an honourable andbenevolent one to mankind and corresponds with the noble freedom of oursentiments; sufficient time remained to stroll about, to read, to makeverses and to indulge his passion for the chase. I was then convincedthat naval and military service were only chosen by him, that he mightescape from my paternal eye. I could not persuade myself that he chosethem as his profession with foresight and reasonable will. It grievedme to lose him entirely; only too often ill-advised youths seek thesepretexts to sink into a busy idleness: for what is the soldier inpeace? At that time we had no war. I agree with you in what you sayabout the dissipated life of our young men; but, perhaps, you willlaugh, when I assert that this passion for hunting is equallyinsupportable to me. As soon as I perceived this rising within him, Iconsidered him as almost lost, for all young people, that I have everyet seen, entirely devoted to this occupation, are idlers, who cannotagain settle to any business; this seeming occupation with itsexertions and sacrifices teaches them to despise time, they dream awaytheir lives until the hour, that calls them up again to follow the hareand the woodcock. And besides the penchant he has to rove about themountains, he frequently does not return for three or four daystogether, he then walks about the house without rest or quiet, opens adozen books, begins a letter, or a stanza, scolds the servants and thenrushes out again; and thus passes day after day, and week after week."

  The doctor looked at him, smiled, and then, after a pause, said: "Lethim alone, he will soon become tame, I have no fears on that account,and why do you make yourself uneasy, my good friend? you are quite richenough; and even if he earns nothing, if he only learns to take care ofhis fortune, to enjoy with moderation his income and to do good toothers, for it often occurs that useful occupations are perilousundertakings. I understand perfectly all that you represent to me, andam only surprised that you do not understand it yourself. Give him thelady of Castelnau, and both will become reasonable, you will be agrandfather and obtain another toy to amuse you."

  "Never!" exclaimed the Counsellor of Parliament with the utmostvehemence, "shall that take place as long as I live; it is she, whobewilders him, who torments him, and yet nourishes all his prejudices.Never speak to me of that again."

  "You do the girl injustice," said the doctor, "strange she is, indeed,but good, and out of the two excentricities a tolerable understandingwould arise." At this moment the garden-gate was closed violently,Edmond entered, and the conversation ended. They saluted one another,and seated themselves in the summerhouse with the little girl."Brother," cried Eveline, "it is all your fault, that my beautifulhouse is knocked down. He causes nothing but misfortune." Edmond was ina kindly mood, and said: "build it up again, my sister, and you willhave so much the more to do."--"Yes," answered she, "if I were allowedto be as idle as you, it would matter very little, but I have yet tosew to-day, and then to write and cipher, but you have nothing to carefor, and that is why you give so much trouble to people."

  "What have I done besides upsetting your splendid card-house?" askedEdmond.

  "Look papa," cried the child, "he has already forgotten that he shotdead his lady love; Oh, he will kill us all soon, and when he has donethat, he will be satisfied."

  Edmond frowned; the father reprimanded the child's rudeness and thedoctor gave a different turn to the conversation. "Now, dear Edmond,"said he, addressing the young man, "what do you say to the news, thatthe Camisards, in spite of their late defeat, still hold out againstthe king's troops, that they are masters of the plain, that an Englishfleet will land in Getta, that a battle is said to have been lost inGermany, and that, if only the half of all this be true, we arethinking how we shall make friends with the rebels, that they may notput an
end to us."

  "Do not jest," said Edmond, "our country has never yet been in suchdanger, so long however as such gentle proceedings are used towardsthese rebels, we are really standing on a precipice, if the foreign foeshould succeed in landing even a small army and ally itself with them."

  "Do you call their treatment mild?" asked the Counsellor.

  "I do not speak," continued the son, "of the executions, theill-treatment and all these cruelties against individuals, they aresevere enough; that even women and children are not spared is enough toinspire all mankind with horror. I mean the dreadful manner in whichthe war is carried on, so that already a royal army has been destroyedwithout being able to arrive at the root of the evil itself. Theirwarfare consists in skirmishes, in the mountains where the strangesoldier is almost always more easily entrapped; the rebels aresuccoured by the mountaineers, who provide them with troops andprovisions, by the war these rude men learn to make war, and althoughthey cannot succeed in repeating these attacks in full force, and fromall points, at the same time, with military skill and discipline, yetit is evident that the evil will rage still longer and perhaps they mayfinally conquer."

  "You appear to have changed your mind about your Marshal," said theLord of Beauvais.

  "My Marshal?" resumed the son, "he is the King's-marshal, and underthis title he serves as a representative of his majesty to us all,although the better part of the people desire that it should not beso."

  "Would to heaven," said the doctor, "that he only belonged to one ofus; I at least would make a vigourous attack upon him with pills andrhubarb, so that he would soon make room for us; he is the only managainst whom I have ever before felt a grudge. Has he not in the spaceof eight months sentenced to death more men than all the doctors in theprovince would have been able to do. All those yonder in the mountains,Cavalier and Roland included, he considers merely as his futurepatients, and like an ignorant empiric he invariably prescribes one andthe same remedy for the most opposite constitutions. Yesterday, heagain caused twelve prophets to be hanged, who all affirmed, with theirlatest breath, that a term would be soon put to his power. What is youropinion, Ned, about this gift of prophecy, of these ecstasies andconvulsions?"

  "It will not be believed in foreign lands," said the latter, "that suchthings are practised, that many reasonable men speak of them as of amystery, and that our calender dates 1703."

  "Let it date!" said Vila, "it seems then, my child, that you understandthe affair, inform me a little on the subject, for I do not understandit at all, or, at least, I cannot express in appropriate words thatwhich has from time to time passed through my mind."

  "What is there to understand in it?" said the young man impetuously,"the grossest and most absurd deception that has ever ventured topresent itself to the mind."

  "Not though in the sense in which you take it," said the doctor, "Ihave observed many in the prisons, they are very unlike one another andmerit truly a serious consideration. I have never yet been in any oftheir assemblies in the open air; or in barns; but I am resolved toassist at their service yonder there at St. Hilaire, and if you give mea kind word Ned, you shall have permission to accompany me. I havebrought some peasants clothing in my carriage, so that no one mayrecognise us."

  "I will accompany you, my good sir," said Edmond, "to make you ashamedof having considered these people of any kind of importance. We shallthen be able to be more of one mind concerning this ridiculousdeception."

  "You shall not go my son," said the father, "what can this curiosityavail? I do not understand you, my friend; are not these unfortunatemen miserable enough? must idle curiosity and petulant caprice alsomake a mockery of them? and what, if the oppressed should be betrayed,or arrested, as it has already so frequently happened, and allmassacred without distinction, who then will have been the dupe to haveslyly insinuated himself among them? or should they recognise orentertain suspicions of you?

  "Does not the old patron himself talk already like a Camisard?" saidthe doctor, laughing, "in short, do you not verily believe that theprophets would recognise and denounce us as godless people to themultitude? but tranquillise yourself, my cautious friend, a troop ofthe rebels is here in the neighbourhood, on that account the soldiersdare not trust themselves in the mountains, knowing that they havethese good friends in their rear. I wish, for once, however, to be inthe right, and you Edmond shall learn something; these are indeed avery singular sort of schools, and information is fetched withdifficulty and in small quantities from over the mountains and rocks;all men cannot be wholesale dealers like you. In reality, however, itis my son who has persuaded me to this, and made me promise to bringyou, Edmond, too."

  "Your son?" exclaimed Edmond, with great vivacity, "the friend of mychildhood, is he here again?"

  "And you mention this to us now for the first time?" said the Lord ofBeauvais.

  "You learn it now quite time enough," replied the doctor in hisphlegmatical humour; "yes, indeed, the vagabond is returned after manyyears, he has had some experience, the hair-brained fellow. He hasstudied in foreign universities, has seen Holland, England, andScotland, has wandered among the various tribes of India and now he isat length returned suddenly and to my great satisfaction just as madand wild as ever, but well informed. He has heard wonders related ofour prophets in this country. He has seen many plants and animals ofthis species in Asia, and seems as if fallen from the clouds, that, ashe turned his back upon them, a much more extraordinary plant shouldhave shot up in his own country close on the threshold of his nativehome, than any he had observed in tropical climates, nor has he left mea moments peace, until I promised to set out with him accompanied byyou too. 'But why did he not come here immediately with you?' criedEdmond.

  "His mother, his cousins, his acquaintances," answered Vila, "The wholetown of St. Hypolite would not let him go so quickly, he is obliged tonarrate until his throat is dry, he now waits to embrace you in thelittle inn in the wood, and will then set out with you on yourchivalrous expedition.--Now my old friend, make no objections, grantthis pleasure to the young people."

  "Well, be mad then," said the Counsellor of Parliament, "but there issomething in my breast that disapproves of this step. May heaven guideyou my son!"--They took leave, the carriage drew up, they ascended intoit in order to get over the first few miles.

  Scarcely had they departed, when the servant entered hastily from thegarden. "A brilliant equipage is advancing on the road from Nismes, Ithink a visit is intended for you, my Lord."

  The Counsellor of Parliament hurried into the hall. "How," exclaimed heastonished, "it is the Intendant himself, the Lord of Basville."--Thecarriage stopped and a tall grave looking man, advanced in years,descended and approached the master of the house with solemn steps.They saluted each other and after a short pause the intendant began:"You are doubtlessly surprised, my Lord Counsellor, to see me here, buta matter of importance has led me to you, it appeared to me morecourteous to visit you myself than to request your presence at Nismes,where, perhaps our conversation would not have been permitted to go onso uninterruptedly and familiarly." The Counsellor, astonished at thisprelude to the conference, begged that he would immediately disclosewhat had procured him the honour of a visit.

  "You are slandered sir," said the Intendant, as he looked at himfixedly; "I am not so fortunate as to be one of your friends, yet Iassert boldly and safely that they are abominable calumnies which arebrought against you, but which, when all the circumstances are joinedtogether, might obtain a semblance of veracity with some credulouspeople." "Who dares attack my name?" said the Counsellor of Parliament.

  "Many, very many," said the Intendant in a forcible tone, "and amongthese are men of importance and respectability. I told you severalmonths ago, that you would repent refusing your son so resolutely andinexorably permission to organise also a troop of volunteers to fightagainst the rebels and to hunt them out of their hiding-places."

  "I do not yet repent of it in the least, my Lord Intendant," repliedthe Counsel
lor. "Permit me to differ with you on this subject."

  "Had we," continued the Intendant, "obtained the assistance of citizens,peasants, and principally of the nobles of the land, upon which weought to have been permitted to reckon with certainty, our king wouldnot have been compelled to send an army and a Marshal, who haveproduced the war they should have quelled, for it was the peasantrythemselves who annihilated the villains; and like many other worthymen, you have not offered your assistance, you preferred living indisunion with your son, who is a spirited young man, and an enthusiastin the right cause. This might be taken by all for paternal love andfatherly authority, which certainly are never to be suppressed, butpermit me," continued he in a more rapid tone, as he perceived theCounsellor's impatience--"this, joined to the opinions to which youhave more than once given utterance in the presence of strangers,furnished matter for various conversations in the country; and whattook place some days ago, misleads even those who honour you; and thisis what I came here to charge you with."

  "I see, with emotion, that I am esteemed, speak out," said the Lord ofBeauvais.

  "You have," pursued the Intendant with the utmost coolness, "givenrefuge to rebels; you have received fugitive Camisards; these villainshave shouted a vivat to you here in front of your house; you havepermitted this rabble to eat at your table; you have yourself opposedviolent resistance, when attempts were made to take them prisoners; andyour son's affianced bride has insulted the Marshal in public company."

  "My lord!" exclaimed the old man entirely beside himself; however, hesaid composedly, "the web of these lies is too gross not to beimmediately recognized as falsehood. She, whom you designate as myson's bride, will never be such with my consent, I know her not, andcannot love her; my house was open to some unfortunate travellers, andone of this party whom I protected, and who announced himself by thename of the Hermit, had nearly drawn destruction upon myself andfamily."

  He then related to him the occurrences of that evening, precisely as hehad experienced them and concluded thus: "You now perceive, my LordIntendant, how falsely people have judged me in this."

  "I believe you," said the grave-looking man, "but you have forgotten thesaying that walls have ears, it is known how you have spoken sometimesof the Marshal and of his love-intrigues, which he certainly takes toolittle trouble to conceal, in which injurious expressions you have goneso far as to call him hangman. My severity and inflexibility, forwhich I am responsible to my God and to my conscience, you callblood-thirstiness. You cannot deny that you have sheltered suspectedpersons with hospitality, that until now you did not live at variancewith your son; that you have refused to allow him to serve his countryalthough he is of age; if the Lady of Castelnau insults our Marshal inthe presence of your son, while he keeps silence, one must believe thathe has an understanding with her on that subject, and if this should bethe case, suspicion further concludes, that you must be quitereconciled and of one mind; therefore, say the malicious, that you mustrender assistance every way to the rebels privately as well as openly,and that we shall be more reproached for neglect, if we suffer it, thanpraised for our forbearance; and this admits of no doubt."

  "I desire examination, the strictest examination," exclaimed theCounsellor of Parliament. "You know," said the Intendant rising, "thatin this perilous confusion there is no time for it; umbrage andsuspicion serve as proofs, the most trifling circumstances, if theycannot be refuted, condemn; the martial-law, which the king has causedto be proclaimed to us, must unfortunately take this cursory method,for the welfare of the country and the preservation of millions demandit."

  "Then I am condemned without being judged? judged without having beenheard? they commence with the punishment and will be at leisureafterwards to enquire into the case," said the Counsellor of Parliamentwith bitterness.

  "Do not be angry, my worthy sir," said the Lord of Basville. "There isno question of all this yet, the proofs of it must be much morepositive; but you cannot yourself deny, that one may be allowed to lookupon you with suspicion, when so much is alleged, against you."

  "And what then is required of me?" said the Counsellor.

  "Nothing, unreasonable," replied the man of gravity, "nothing, to whichyou can in justice offer any opposition. Yesterday I published a newmanifesto of his Majesty, wherein, nobles and citizens are summoned,urgently, entreatingly, and commandingly, to stand up unanimously fortheir country and religion. Three hundred young men have presentedthemselves; let your son be free as his years demand, permit him thusto testify his attachment to his king, for it is scarcely six weekssince, when in my apartment, in presence of the Lord Marshal, hecomplained with tears in his eyes, that your excessive parentalaffection lays a heavy restraint upon him, and prevents him fromshowing his zeal. You prevent him now again by your fatherly authority;now, certainly, these indications joined to your indifference wouldwith myself weigh heavier in the scale. Your answer, my Lord Counsellorof Parliament!" "My son," said the father with constrained displeasure,"is free; he may serve the king according to his wish if he sets hishappiness upon it."

  The Intendant bowed in silence, refused all refreshment and theafflicted father followed the carriage with tearful eyes, as it rolledaway.--"Is it then, come to this?" exclaimed he, "you have now Edmond,what you wished, I could not say no. You will now spare the roe and thedeer, and keep your balls for the chace after your brethren!--Oh whatfolly to have allowed him to go with that thoughtless old man, underthese circumstances; if these blood-thirsty men knew that!--Aye, wethink to steer the bark of life with foresight and wisdom, and shouldthe tempest have but a moment's intermission, at the first calm we letgo our oars and dreaming we are wrecked on a rock."

  Eveline entered from the garden, the old man embraced her tenderly andsighed: "Soon, perhaps, thou wilt be my only child!"

  "Have they taken Edmond away from you?" asked the child.

  "They have indeed, my dear little one," replied the father.

  "They will soon restore him to you again," said Eveline coaxingly, "wecan make better use of him, for others do not know at all what to dowith him."

  All this moment firing was heard in the distance, and the old manconcealed himself with his child in the most retired room of the house.

  He was soon recalled to the saloon, and was not a little surprised tosee his friend, the doctor, standing before him, and in reality clothedin the dress of a peasant, so that at first he did not recognize him."Be not uneasy," said he, "nothing unfortunate has happened to us, butsomething very ridiculous to me; only think, scarcely had I disguisedmyself in this merry-andrew fashion, and advanced afoot towards themountains, than a servant, whether luckily, or unluckily, stepped up tome, recognized me again and requested my attendance at the Marquis ofValmont's, who is suddenly taken dangerously ill, the carriage waswaiting ready, I threw myself into it, made them drive as fast as thehorses could run, and here, just before your door, it occurs to me forthe first time, that in the dark and hurry, I left all my unfortunatewardrobe at the inn in the wood, sword, wig, and every thing. Assist mequickly with some of your clothes, or I shall not be able to attend theMarquis."

  "And the two foolish youths," said the Counsellor, "they are now alone,without your counsel and prudence. Why did I suffer myself to beinfected with your frivolity?"

  "Make no objections, my good friend," exclaimed the former, "allthese are trifles compared to my misery!--He quickly tore off hisclothes;--Bring! give!"

  The domestic who was summoned thither assisted him, "My clothes are toolong, and perhaps too narrow for you," said the Counsellor. "Nevermind," cried the eager doctor, I shall perhaps the more easily imposeon the invalid; the black coat, the neckcloth, the waistcoat descendsto the knee, no harm in that; now for the wig!

  "You know, extraordinary man," said the Lord of Beauvais, "that I havegiven up that ornament here in this retirement more than ten yearsago.--There is not one in the house."

  "No wig!" exclaimed Vila, and with horror let fall the black coat,through one of the s
leeves of which he had thrust his arm.--"Not asingle wig! man! now I begin to believe that you have renounced allfaith, what is to be done?"

  The Counsellor and the servant endeavoured to quiet the provokedfriend, but he scarcely even heard their words. "A doctor to go to hispatient without a wig!" repeated he angrily, "it would cause an uproarin the whole province, it would be reported in Paris, a scandalousarticle would be inserted in the 'Mercure de France,' ah the infidel!it would be even better to have no bread, no catechism in the housethan to want the necessary headgear, and the Marquis will not sufferhimself to be cured by me in this bald-headed condition, and his feverwill have still less respect for me."

  But all his complaints were fruitless, he was forced to depart in thisstrange costume, and could not in the least understand the Counsellor'sindifference to his embarrassment, "I should have expected morefriendship from the old heathen," muttered he to himself, "and all thatthe Camisards have done, is nothing in comparison to my going withoutsword and chapeau bas, dressed in black with ruffles and all theappurtenances; but to advance to the bed of so distinguished a patient,without a wig is nothing less than if I had lived among canibals." Thusdid he try by exaggerations to console himself for his plight.