# The Rebellion in the Cevennes/Volume 2/Chapter X

Tieck never wrote the concluding volume.
CHAPTER X.
In the mean while the calamity in which Edmond took a leading part and too late repented, now burst forth. Cavalier, who this time conducted every movement of the troops, had so prudently contrived his plans; valour, and fortune were so favorable to him in their execution, and at his command on all sides, that the enemy, who thought to have hemmed him in, saw themselves surrounded. The royalists were forced to give way, and were decoyed and driven into the narrow valleys, were they could not employ their strength, the cavalry was cut off, and on whatever side the soldiers turned, they met with their adverseries, who fought from the advantageously situated heights.
​In the morning, conformably to the arrangement made, the village procession was put in motion at the festive sound of bells. The church was beautifully decorated with garlands and flowers; the clerk began to play the organ, and old and young assembled on the common dressed in their holiday clothes, in order to join the young girls and follow the procession into the church. The aged priest was standing already before the altar, awaiting the congregation when suddenly a panic seized and rendered them motionless, for a loud and reiterated firing was distinctly heard close at hand. "Jesus, Maria!" exclaimed the girls, and the chains of flowers fell from their arms, the young men spoke of weapons and defence, and the old looked at one another in alarm. The firing approached nearer, and the priest and clerk had already quitted the church. All was in fearful and anxious expectation. Psalm singing was now heard from over the steep mountain. "They are ​the Camisards!" shrieked all aloud and in terror; at the same moment a regiment in reserve rushed from the left into the valley. The Camisards moved from above precipitatedly, and jumped and slid down the vineyards, while they hurled stones ands balls among the bewildered, stupified, and discouraged mass of soldiers. In vain the officers inspirited them, some fell with their horses, others sought to retreat towards the outlet of the valley on the right. The procession and the clergy, as well as the congregation were mingled with the combatants, before they were yet able to recover their senses. A few only succeeded in flying to their houses.
"They are beaten!" cried Catinat furiously, who mounted on a great black horse and roared, "After them! destroy them in the name of the Lord! and throw fire and sword into these cottages and idolatrous temples!" Ravenel rode on an small horse at his side and was already stained with blood, for he was ever foremost in the ​slaughter. Favart, Stephen, Anton, and the diminutive François had nimbly clambered down the mountain. Houses were already seen burning in the distance, the cry of murder from the inhabitants mingled with the rejoicing shouts of the victors and the clashing of arms. Stephen now attempted to take the crucifix, which the youthful Caspar, as leader of the procession carried, but the latter struck him so forcibly on the head with it, that his fair locks were smeared with blood, and the youth without drawing another breath, fell to the ground. When Anton, the shoemaker saw this, he fell furiously upon Caspar. "Tear the cruel idolaters to pieces!" screamed he, and struck Caspar with his short sword, who was on the point of using his weapons on the neck, so that in a moment he was red with a stream of blood. Louison, who saw that her beloved was lost, uttered a piercing shriek of woe, tore the short, stumpy Anton by the hair to the ground, and battered his brains out with ​the bar of the crucifix, which Caspar had now let fall. A murderous shout of blood-thirstiness rang fearfully through the troops of exasperated rebels, and François was the first to cut down the beautiful Louison, whereupon an indiscriminate massacre raged in every cottage, in every street, upon every little bridge, and in the already burning church, so that the gurgling brook soon rolled in blood-red waves.
In the mean while Edmond stood gloomy and despairingly above on the steep rock, and saw now distinctly, now obscured by the smoke the streets and houses of the village beneath him. The smoke now rolled away, the royalists had all fled, a short cry and wailing, the inhabitants were all slain, cottages burned right and left, the fire shone through all the trees, and now the flames arose in the church. and the peaceful dwelling under his feet, which had hospitably sheltered him that very night, already rolled in columns of smoke, the fire shortly raised the roof, and below was a ​universal glow of destruction and death, reflected in the bloody, splashing brook, all like a fiery river of hell, where yesterday an Eden had bloomed. The green trees defended themselves from the fiery streams, but they were compelled to bend and yield to its force. The glowing waves burst up to the heavens over the church tower, and as a child, unconsciously smiling, plays even in death, the clock struck the hour once more, and for the last time, and then fell with the tower and the beams of the roof with a loud crash into the abyss of fire and smoke.
Edmond sat down indifferent to all, and incapable of further thought. After a while he saw a troop of his brethren ascending the heights by different routes. Bertrand appeared soon afterwards on another road mounted with several horsemen. "Are you defeated?" asked Edmond, as they assembled near him. "No," cried Bertrand, "God has given us complete victory, the valleys are strewed with ​the bodies of the royalists; Cavalier has advanced yonder against the fugitives; Roland has now probably beaten another column, and Solomon their third division. But, as Cavalier knows, that several horsemen have fled, he fears they might make a circuit and fall upon him in the rear, we must therefore still occupy these heights."
Edmond had not the courage to ask what had taken place in the village below, but Bertrand began of his own accord. "Now, for once, the hard hearts have been compelled to taste our vengeance, we have at length washed our hands in their blood. They will fear us, brother; the trembling of those that have escaped to-day will teach the others to tremble too. Like destroying angels, Ravanel and Catinat cut their way through them, where these stand,·not one of the enemy expects mercy. I have now though been enabled to celebrate a great festival, such a jubilee as I have ever wished for. But many of our brethren, and our best lie there below ​The despairing peasants have armed themselves almost in greater numbers than the soldiers. Ah! poor François, the child has been torn by the beasts, Anton, and the flute player, Stephen, have had their heads smashed, one of the villains threw my brother, when the poor fellow was already wounded, into the fire, even the wretched clerk was massacred by our Everard, whereupon I pitched the rogue head over heels directly into a deep well."
"And the aged priest?" asked Edmond, scarcely audible.
"Him," said one of the troop, "I saw for a long while standing with his prayer-book, in the midst of the tumult on the common; right and left men and women were slain by his side, so that I thought, now, now this one or that must strike him. But it was as if they did not see him at all. I afterwards lost sight of him; surely he must be lying there among the dead bodies. Do you know anything of him, brother Christophe?"
​A wild-looking man, spotted with blood, diminutive and black, his whole face almost overgrown with bristly hair, said grinning: "The old grey-headed knave is certainly a sorcerer, for when I had already killed several of the idolaters, and that he still continued to stand quietly there, and I was vexed that none of my comrades had ever aimed at him, in my fury I advanced to hew him down; already I raised my arm, then the spectre looked quite quietly at me, and his old thin lips smiled at it, almost as if he would have wept, but I tell you, from his large blue eyes such a spell shot through my eyes into my heart, that terrified I let fall my arm and was unable to do any thing to the rascal. A long time after, wishing to rest myself a little, I perceived him still in his black garments like a dark cloud between the combatants, wandering through flame and smoke and over the slain, perfectly collected and as if no one could do him harm. I think he is gone ​into the burning church and will probably be burned there."
Edmond awoke from his dreams to life again at this fearful recital. "Thus, does the guest requite," said he to himself, "the hopeful son of the friend of thy youth. Is not that called love for love? Now I am no longer indebted to thee for thy hospitable reception."
"Hollo! hollo!" shouted Christophe wildly. "Our brethren yonder are bringing the sacrificing priest of Baal. So much the better, he shall be slain here before the eyes of the all seeing God."
Edmond cast a withering glance on the wretch, then looked down and recognised already close beneath him the pastor bound, whom Favart, the swarthy Eustace and other Camisards were dragging up. "Here we bring the knave dear brethren," exclaimed Favart, just as they gained a firm footing on the leval rock, and dragged up the old man with cords.
When the exhausted priest was drawn up, he ​cast such a look of lassitude, pity, and resignation to the will of heaven on the youth, that the hair of the latter stood on end with terror. "God greet you with your booty!" roared he to Favart and Eustace, "but woe to him among you, who approaches the old man even by a look, for such a one will I tear with my teeth." Favart and Eustace stepped back, turning pale, and Edmond loosened himself the cords of the venerable man, then pressed him in his arms, laid his grey head upon his throbbing breast, and a convulsive sobbing prevented all utterance and restrained his tears. "Why," said the aged man, "should I alone remain of all the rest? the poor shepherd, whose flock they have slaughtered?" "What is that?" vociferated Christophe, stammering with rage; "will they rob us of our property that we have purchased with our blood? we have left gold and silver to be consumed in the burning churches, but the life of the idolater is our booty. And who will take it ​from us? A coward, who without drawing a sword, here safe in the distance, has contemplated our life endangering labour. Away with that! Apostates are we ourselves if we bear the like from an idolater, who has not yet abandoned his former wickedness."
He would have rushed upon the holy man, but Edmond intercepted him with the swiftness of lightning, and threw him with such giant strength upon the rock that all his limbs rattled, and he remained lying, apparently senseless. Old Favart beheld this with anger, and Eustace, the charcoal-burner became wrathful Bertrand stepped wildly forward, and a group of clamorous Camisards pressed round Edmond and the priest. "Who art thou?" exclaimed Favart, "that thou darest play the master here? Wilt thou act the nobleman here?"—He seized the priest, and Eustace also laid a hand upon him. Though as Edmond stepped up to them, Eustace, from old accustomed obedience, ​let go his hold, and Favart was torn back by the powerful youth. "Lord, Edmond, Beauvais!" cried the man, "our king!" They struggled with each other, and Edmond hurled him down the mountain. "Our brother's neck is broken!" cried they all wildly together, and rushed upon Edmond with drawn weapons, who in this moment had been lost, if Abraham Mazel with a fresh troop had not arrived: Clary, Castanet, Marion, and Vila were among these. Through respect for Mazel they were quiet, and Edmond was enabled to lay the affair before the friends. "We would not be cruel towards the defenceless," said Mazel. Clary remembered Roland's express command to spare the priest; the eloquent Marion exhorted and persuaded the grumblers, and it was determined that the priest, while the guides should clothe themselves in the uniforms of the slaughtered, should be conducted to Florac, that he might there claim the protection of his superior. Edmond offered ​to take this service upon himself, and Eustace and several of the brethren would accompany him on this expedition.
Conversation and dispute were interrupted, while this scattered and cut off band advanced, whose union with the defeated soldiers Cavalier wished to prevent. The few cavalry went to meet them, the infantry placed themselves in order, and a sanguinary combat began anew on the height. Mazel led them on, and the bravery of the rebels made the military, who were already discouraged, give way. Edmond and his followers were with the young captain and his light horse, who were exposed at a distance in an obstinate combat. The horse of the young man was already killed, but he fought intrepidly and indefatigably, however little he could promise himself a fortunate issue. Edmond advanced, and cried out, "Surrender young man; you behave gallantly, it would grieve me were you killed here uselessly. I promise you protection and good treatment ​until you are exchanged for some of ours taken prisoners."
"Miserable rebel!" exclaimed the captain, dost thou think, that I would receive pardon from such a villain as thou? I know thee, Beauvais, perjurer, apostate; the executioner at Nismes awaits thee already. Look down into that valley, incendiary, and still speak of good treatment!"—He looked searchingly at the youth, glanced down on his sword and fired his pistol at Edmond, it missed, and Edmond at the same moment shot a ball throught his breast, so that he fell dead. The remainder were killed in the mêlée, the sergeant, who was still mounted fled precipitately from the height down the rock, Mazel and his followers were already far distant pursuing the enemy.
Edmond descended with those who would accompany him. In a vineyard they enjoyed the repose and frugal fare which could be quickly prepared for them. The old man was revived by a few drops of ​wine. "Beauvais, art thou my son?" began he, as he saw himself alone with Edmond.—"I am called," said the latter, "after your baptismal name, Edmond; as a testimony how my father has ever loved you."
"Ah, thou dear friend of my youth," said the old man with a deep sigh, "why must I become acquainted with thy son under such circumstances? In this way then have the dreams of thy love, our religious inspirations been embodied? Thus are our fanatic presentiments fulfilled? To these murders and burnings, to these horrible cruelties must we awaken and call our whole youth folly and illusion? Ah! verily poor Louison, thy love to thy protectress has been badly recompensed. You were right unfortunate Caspar, that you did not know in what moment and in what sufferings your happiness would terminate. Now you lie together in a bloody embrace. Why cannot I say to myself, no, this is but a dream! Awake thou miserable old man, ​and find thy commune, thy children, the former tranquil repose, the sweet peace, and thy beloved church again! Woe! woe! to ye, ye poor, ye innocent! and threefold woe upon the wretches who brought this horror into these distant valleys."—He covered his head, and wept bitterly.
The twilight was extending itself. The pastor wished to visit once more the ruins of his church, and they descended the mountain. Edmond and the priest went alone among the fallen walls. All was destroyed together, the alter only still remained and the statue of the virgin was blackened, though tolerably preserved. The old man took it down and buried it at some distance. "Wherefore?" asked Edmond. "Will not the mnltitude," said the aged man, "cry out a miracle again, when they find this statue the only thing still nearly preserved in this heap of ashes? Who knows what horrible blood-thirstiness may be enflamed by this accident, what monstrous, insatiable vengeance attached ​to this wooden symbol in the name of God, in order to satisfy under pretext of eternal love, the horrible feeling, which never should be awakened in the breast of man. No, what may be an innocent amusement in times of peace and happiness, and serve as an exalting, edifying, pious institution, often becomes a banner for the human mind if once wild rebellion has swayed it, followed exultingly by all the horrors of hell. I should consider myself a murderer, if I did not bury this protectress to-day, as our neighbours will inter the poor unprotected to-morrow. Should the Eternal Decree will it otherwise, he will easily render my trouble unnecessary".
As they again issued from the ruins, they were met by the tall figure of Lacoste. "Edmond," cried he, "you and your compeers carry on a damnable trade. I have kept myself concealed the whole day, that I might not look upon the enormity. The ceremony of your worship is ​too severe. Your God is indulgent, for otherwise he would shew himself somewhat more rigorous in it. I thought I had already experienced every thing and understood every body; but in my present high school I still learn many new things."
How astounded were Lacoste and the priest as each found again a friend of his youth in the other. "You are then that pious, sighing, youth," exclaimed Lacoste in amazement, who in the eyes of his Euphemie would see and find the whole Empyraeum? We now wander afar over the flowers of your religious elysium. But tread firmly, for these eyes and noses no longer feel our heels, these faces are only the discarded masks, which still lie about from yesterday’s gala. Yes, these masqueraders have destroyed much clothing, that can never be mended again, they have been reduced to tatters at once by extravagant insolence. Aye! aye! Edmond, your reverend cordelier, his hair is become white since then, ​like the yellow flowers of the meadow, which the first blast uproots. Where is Euphemie? Where Lucy, where our tears and sighs of those days? You have become a little old man in an instant: and, is it not true, that those youthful feelings appeal to you even now sometimes, but like dumb children, with their countenances? Now perform a little bit of a miracle with your superabundant love, and awaken these dead again which lie here in our way. But the question is, whether they would thank you for it, since they have once made a step to the other side, though rather in a neck-breaking manner; for if examined closely, that so called life is a cursedly tedious and base affair, and if one is to expect jokes like these every day, such as have been practised on these fellows here, then really one must be damnably sunk in bad habits, not to put an end to this miserable existence by a single gash on the throat. But thus indeed are we all.
​In these conversations they passed the night. The venerable pastor replied but little. Neither did his exhaustion permit him, which was so great, that he was often compelled to rest. As the hours passed the more agitated he became and the more he wished to end quickly his days in the ruins of his beloved commune, for he did not know why he should still wish to live. Edmond talked to him filially and affectionately, as a son, and the old man heartily forgave all the evil that the youth had drawn upon him. "If I could only see thy father once more before my death!" exclaimed he much affected, "or"—grief did not permit him to say more, but Edmond guessed what he meant. After they had reposed several times, with the early dawn they reached a village, which lay pleasantly among some green trees. They determined on breakfasting here, in order to be able to continue their way to Florac, Edmond felt as if his whole life and being would dissolve in dream and mist. As ​they arrived before a small house, in the upper story of which some men appeared, but who quickly drew back at the sight of the regimentals, Edmond said to himself, "I am on the point of becoming mad, for I now see the figures of my mind; it was indeed as if I perceived my father and Christine, and Eveline; and only because I here escort the two friends of his youth." They were going to inquire for the inn of an old man, who was gathering herbs in a small garden, when the wife came out of the house and begged of them to accompany her, since she herself had business at the inn, and that it was not so easy to find it, because it lay in another street, and in an out of the way place, where there was but very little business carried on, and had no communication with any high road.
With this information, the chatterer accompanied them to the neat little inn of the place. The people had only just risen, and were terrified when they saw the soldiers, for since the attack on the not ​far distant district, the whole country was filled with terror. Wine, bread, and warm drink also revived the weary travellers, and Eustace and Bertrand with some others kept watch, that they might not be unexpectedly surprised. "Who lives in the upper story of your house?" inquired Edmond of the old woman.
"Ah! good heavens!" responded. she, "they are poor unfortunate people, whose property the wicked rebels have burnt. A peasant, a poor cousin of mine, has now fled to me with his daughter and his sister's son, and who knows whether the flambeau of wrath, with which the Lord of Hosts in his anger will light us home, is not already on its way to our little cottage. For where is safety, or security now a days as formerly? Verily, all is affliction and warfare, and the strangest fatality drives men here and there, as has happened only in old marvelous stories, and the troubles only increase, and suspicion becomes greater. Where one only sees a soldier, one might ​creep into a mole's hole, even though one should be of the very best and exact faith."
"Is your trumpeter not come back yet?"
"He must have clean disappeared," answered the old woman; "but my foolish husband grieves about the knave, and thinks that some misfortune must have happened to him in the mountains, because the long bellows was already old and broken down, and is sometimes troubled with a bad cough. As if it mattered much about such vagabonds, when so many respectable people bite the grass, who have more connexion and authority than the adventurer, who wants to play Moonseignor here."
"Aye, truly," said the landlord, "but how goes it though with the Catholics, particularly with the poor clergy, as well as with the old, venerable lord there, who has now fled likewise? Some of them are said to have already arrived at Florac yesterday. The convents too suffer. A wayfarer arrived here in the night, who brought intelligence of an attack on a castle, where ​several holy women had been on a visit, who may belong to Nismes or Montpellier. Crosses and misery are in the whole land. And whence has the misfortune come? Each party lays the blame on the other."
They set forward again, and those who were placed to keep watch rejoined the troop. A fiery red had spread itself over the whole heavens, as far as the eye could reach, when they emerged from the valley, the sky was illumined with the most singular and varied burning lights. From a wood, situated on an eminence on the left, rushed an aged female attendant, and cried, "Oh, God be praised, that I see royal troops! Help, my good mistress! she ran back, and led an old nun, who appeared fainting. They approached, they revived her with wine. When the priest heard her family name called, he exclaimed, "Euphemie!" and dropped down before her. It was she, she had escaped with difficulty with her attendant from the burning castle, where she had passed the night in ​the greatest anguish. The old man told her his name. "Hast thou then at times thought of our youth?" asked he in a trembling voice, "Can one forget life?" replied the dying Euphemie, with closing eyes. "And thou, Edmond ?"——"I lived for thee, I die with thee," spoke the aged man, and both expired exhausted by the too strong emotion caused by finding each other again so wonderfully, while the rays of morning shone like a glory on their sanctified features.
Carts which came from Florac, and whose owners heard from Edmond the brief account, conveyed the bodies to the town, that they might be interred in consecrated ground.
end of the second volume
printed by j. teuten, bond street, chelsea.