# The Rebellion in the Cevennes/Volume 1/Chapter VI

Chapter IV was incorrectly called Chapter VI in the original translation. This translation is complete and unabridged.
CHAPTER VI.
A large company was invited at the Marshal’s at Nismes. The Intendant, the Lord of Basville, sat by the side of the Lord of Montrevel, many officers and respectable inhabitants of the town surrounded the table, and at the head the beautiful Lady of Andreux added lustre to the assembly, who with her husband was present to do honour to this banquet. Some of her female relatives, distinguished ladies of Nismes, sat between the gentlemen, and all seemed as merry as if they were not pondering on the common oppression of the country. The Intendant of the province alone preserved his serious demeanour and joined not in the repeated laughter of the others; he was deeply engaged in earnest conversation with ​Colonel Julien, who also seemed to be totally regardless of the lively mood of the company. An important advantage had been obtained the day before over the rebels, and all were flattering themselves, that in a short time they would see these unhappy insurections brought to an end. The Marshal was in higher spirits than people had been used to see him for a long time; his sallies were laughed at and the homage which he conspicuously addressed to the Lady of Andreux, was gratefully received by her and returned with pointed elegance.
Colonel Julien related to the Intendant the wonderful manner in which he had effected his escape from the recesses of the mountains of the Cevennes, three months previously. He was in command of a small expedition and thought to have entirely defeated the rebels in a hot encounter, when he perceived himself on all sides suddenly surrounded towards evening.
"Around us," said he, "were steep, barren mountains, while we were ​preparing for a retreat, all the heights were suddenly occupied by multitudes of people, before and behind us were swarms of dark figures, we could not long remain doubtful of our position; for suddenly large stones rolled down on our troop, which in their heavy descent crushed our people murderously. Here there was no rallying to be thought of, therefore we retreated almost flying towards a mill near a mountain stream. I was convinced I should find this pass also occupied, and gave myself up for lost. The rocks crushed my soldiers right and left, resistance being impossible. Now sprung from the other side, like chamois, more than a hundred down from the steep heights, and in this disorder, where we could not hold our footing, a bloody fight ensued; I had been already wounded three times, and my fighting men were rapidly decreasing, darkness came on, when, in a moment, while the Camisards burst into their howling hymns, a panic seized the rest of my troop, and they all rushed ​towards the opening of the valley. The victorious band pursued them from the other side, new foes beset them. Bleeding, I leaned solitarily against a rock and saw through the twilight my company hewn down, the former could not perceive me, however, firmly they had sworn my death. I dragged myself sideways towards the little bridge that leads to the mill on the other side, certain of meeting death; but I found it undefended. A fault that I should not have expected from the rebels, for they were headed by Cavalier, as I heard in the midst of the cries and hubbub. All this misfortune, however, happened to me only in consequence of false informers, who brought me lying accounts; men, that I had long known, and whose fidelity seemed to me to have been tried; but they merely played this part, the better to deceive me, for they belonged to the Camisards."
"The worst of this is," said the Intendant, "that we dare trust no one, not ​a single one. The most sincere, the most zealous patriots in appearance, betray us. We are reproached for severity and harshness, but I fear we are yet too mild and compassionate, for these faithless rebels deserve no quarter; they can only be subdued by continued, inexorable severity."
"They should be wholly extirpated," interrupted the Marshal, who in the middle of his own lively conversation had only listened to the last words.
Julien looked gravely at the Intendant, while he sighed: "You really believe then that these unfortunate men are no longer deserving of human consideration," "Hardly so indeed," said the Lord of Basville, "for through their own cruelty and disgraceful conduct of every kind, they have rendered themselves unworthy of any sympathy. But go on Colonel: how were you saved in this pressing position?"
"With scarcely strength sufficient to advance a single step, I dragged myself ​across the river, through the copse and over a meadow towards the mill, for no choice was left me. It was now become quite dark, and yet I would have willingly avoided this mill, for the people there were more than merely suspicious. Two of the sons had gone over to the rebels some time before, and it had been my intention after my victory to take all these people from their houses along with me, and to have them interrogated in prison. A dog announced my arrival; this was the last thing I was conscious of, for I fell fainting before the door of the house. When I recovered from my insensibility, I found myself undressed upon a bed, my wounds bound up, and many strange faces gathered round me, which, by the glimmering light of a lamp, caused me a most disagreeable impression. An old man with white hair, who seemed to have the most authority, was the only one in whom I could have any confidence; the more horrible among them, were some women, particularly an elderly one, whom ​I took for the old man’s wife. "Your wounds are not mortal," said the old miller, "you will soon recover, be tranquil on this point."—"May I in reality have no cause for uneasiness?" rejoined I. "Am I with loyal subjects of the king?"—"By heaven, we are such!" exclaimed the aged man with tears in his eyes, "we have already made many sacrifices to him, and we will protect you, although you seem to know us well, nor are you either unknown to us. My two sons have both suffered martyrdom—but the king commanded it should be so, and God permitted it, we dispute no more with him. Hereupon the women, particularly the old ones, set up a terrific howling; some young fellows gazed at me with cruel, sanguinary looks; I was prepared for all. "Peace," cried the old man, "this man has not come under my roof as a foe, but as one requiring assistance, who injures a hair of his head, will have to answer for it to me!—We found you lifeless at our door, we recognized you on the ​spot," continued he turning to me; "we need only to have left you without assistance, and we did not murder you; but I have staunched the blood, you may return to-morrow to the town, and I will take care that you shall be conveyed with all speed to the nearest village in an easy manner, for when our companions arrive in a mass, as it may happen to-morrow, I might not be able to protect you any longer." And so it happened. During the night some rebels, who were seeking after me, were sent away even in the twilight of morning; I was placed comfortably in a small vehicle and conveyed to the opening of the valley from whence I could be carried in safety to the town."
"We may well be astonished at this false virtue," said the Intendant, "but we must refuse it our consideration, for that will not be necessary, if these unfortunate men remain faithful to the king and obey his mandates."
The company was still sitting at desert ​and sipping choice wines, when, suddenly, a great uproar was raised in the house, several men's footsteps were heard hastening up the steps, the doors burst open and in rushed the clergyman of St. Sulpice, pale, and trembling, followed by a few citizens, and among these a young man who seemed quite beside himself. "What is the matter?" demanded the Marshal in an authoritative tone, and the Intendant arose and addressed himself to the young citizen. "Now Clement," said he, "recollect yourself, what has happened to you ?" "Is not this the leader of the city militia at Nismes?" asked the Marshal with contempt.
"Even so," replied the Lord of Basville, "he led the troop of volunteers." "He seems to have lost the power of speech in his expedition," said the Lord of Montrevel, laughing.
"They are behind us—they will be here directly," stammered out young Clement.
"Who?" enquired the Marshal, who had resumed his seat.
​"Cavalier and the Camisards!" cried the young man.
"Not so bad, not quite so bad as that," rejoined the priest, who seemed more composed. But our troop is totally defeated and the rebels have been all along in our rear, and they have the insolence to appear on the plain of Nismes, as if they were going to threaten the town itself."
"Thus it is," said the Marshal cuttingly, "when citizens meddle with affairs to which they are not equal; give the young man a glass of wine to revive him." Casting at the same time a side glance at the Intendant, "Sit down reverend priest," he continued, "you appear more composed, give us a little more circumstantial acount."
"According to the order of the gracious Lord Marshal," said the priest, bowing profoundly, "We set fire yesterday to the village, which had furnished provisions to the rebels, when they had quartered themselves there; we then set ​out five hundred men strong, and three hundred soldiers marched at the same time, with a hundred dragoons on the other side of the river. The wretched, burned out creatures ran howling into the wood and we pursued our way whilst we saw about a hundred rebels flying before us. Behind the wood we joined the royal troops and surrounded the vineyards on three sides near Nages. Some Camisards showed themselves sideways, who, however, after a few shots disappeared. We now advanced on the right, the soldiers on the left, in between the mountains; we fell among the brambles, and—as if fire was vomited forth from all sides, balls flew in among us without our being able to see any one, we hesitate, we halt. Now the villains in the mountains spring to their feet yelling and psalm-singing bellow down upon us, together with hissing balls; we defend ourselves and put our hopes in the royal troops, but the superiority is too great, our people fall, we are compelled to ​retreat. Difficult enough it was to retire from the mountains, the greater part of our men remain lying there; arriving on the plain, there we beheld the military also beaten and taking flight."
"Defeated! screamed the Marshal.
"They are most likely following us," replied the priest.
"The volunteers," said the Intendant, "have apparently not been properly supported, as it has often happened already, and how shall the citizen bear up if the soldier takes flight?"
The Marshal, his face crimsoned, would have retorted angrily, when some officers, covered in dust and bewildered, entered hastily. "The rebels, Lord Marshal," said a young captain, "are seen before the gates of Nismes; Cavalier has played us a fine trick this time; our informers enticed us among the vineyards, the volunteers did not unite with us as had been agreed upon and we are entirely routed. Cavalier knows how to dispose of his men like an old soldier."
​"Lord Marshal," exclaimed a veteran colonel entering the room, "the foe is without! and the fearful Catinat has, through retribution, as he calls it, reduced three catholic villages to ashes, and with his own hands set fire to the churches."
Some prisoners were brought in, among whom there was a child of twelve years of age. "What means this lad?" exclaimed the Marshal.
"He is a brother of Cavalier," replied the old colonel, "we had already made this dangerous leader prisoner, we had taken possession of a bridge and he could not rejoin his people, when this brat, this boys here, rallied the rebels, harangued them, brandished his sword in his outstretched hand, fell upon us, retook the bridge, made his brother free, but became himself our prisoner."
"Satan's brood!" growled the Marshal, "away with them all to prison, and we, gentlemen, to our posts!" All hastened out, the guests had already retired without ​taking leave: the boy looked boldly and smilingly round the saloon, and carelessly followed his guard; no one remained behind but Colonel Julien and the Intendant, who took their hats and sticks to go to their respective houses. "This cannot continue," said the Lord of Basville, "the king sacrifices his army fruitlessly and the rebellion becomes more obstinate and stronger."
"Things will change," said the Colonel, "I have the surest intelligence from Paris;—but you testify too openly your contempt of him; he also knows what you report concerning him at court."
"Can I do otherwise," said the Intendant, "if I am a faithful servant to the king? you have witnessed all, and must acknowledge in your heart, that but for this Marshal, this rebellion would never have become a war; he nourishes it, he is rejoicing at the idea of becoming important through it, he squanders all his time with women and is brave as a soldier only through ​pityful vanity, and he piques himself in gaining the affections of silly women."
"If we now obtain a better general," said Julien, "it is to be hoped, that this system of overreached severity and cruelty would be given up and trial made of gentle means."
"No good subject of the king can counsel that," said the Intendant taking a hasty leave of the Colonel.
The streets were in an uproar and every one was hastening to make resistance against the rebels, who appeared more dangerous than ever.