The Portland daily press., 1877-07-21
THE PRESS.
Translated for tho Baltimore American by Mary
land Lady.
Count Victor.
BY JULES JANIN.
by JULES JANIN.

of Orleans, mother OF the Regent in the
minority of Louis XIV. Though she be-
fouled without scrupe the memories of the
leading men of her own day, nor sparing her
own granddaughter or her own son, she
always speaks with high respect of Victor
Baudelot. Saint Simon, too, although he
looked at human nature too generally on its
wrong side, has always good word for
Baudelot; and when in 1893 the war between
Royalist and Republicans broke out in La
Vendee, the Baudelot, who was then head of
his house. was among the first to Join those
who took up arms to curb the excuses of the
revolution. He fought as all his noble COM
rades fought with heart and hand. He was
the friend of Cathelineau, Lescure, La
Rochejaquelin and the rest of their gallant
company. He went into battle with light
hearted grace, cared nothing for discourage
ments or dangers, and his gay spirits were
had ceased to hear the groans and outcries of
the field of battle.
What war was ever so ferocous as the
struggle in La Vendee? But l have no
design of dwelling on it. Others have
painted it too often; some with their brushes
dipped in glowing hues, others in darker
colors. Ali 1 have to do is to tell you the
story of Count Baudelot, who one day was
surprised in a farm house, together with a
detachment of twelve Royalists, by body of
Blues, as the Republicans were nckn AIMED
in La Vendee. The Count called out to his
few men:
"Retire immediately The farm house
Is about to be surrounded, Fly! Garry off
the women and children. will stay and
defend the door, / can hold out ten minutes !:
There are three bundled of them! They
will murder every one they capture. Fare
well, my gallant lads. Do not forget me. It
is my turn to die to-day--it will be yours to-
morrow.
In those days of glorious heroism and self
devotion nobody was surprised at any in
stance of self-sacrifce. Dramatic heroism,
common enough among Frenchmen in other
wars, had no one to admire it, to record it,
to be surprised at it in this war of extermina-
tion and despair. 1t was no time or place
for any Quixotic exhibition of courage or
devotion. Selfsacrifces were accepted as
mere things of course, and Baudelots twelve
soldiers Immediately obeyed him.
The Count remained behind after they
left, making all possible noises, haranguing,
disputing, giving orders, rafting his gun
against the floor and clincking its locks. He
made row enough for whole regiment at
once, and the Blues were cautious in their
approaches. But after while his voice
began to fail, and, judging that his men must
by that time be safe, the careless Frenchman
cared no longer to command an imaginary
company; and, leaving, off his orders and
Gxhortations, barricaded the oak door and
waited further action. For some minutes
the door resisted the fresh assaults of the
enemy. Then it began to yield. The Blues
fred through the chinks into the chamber.
Count Victor was not wounded; and, as
he had been surprised when half through
breakfast, he sat down to table to finish his
bread and cheese, saying to himself with
every bite. SIT is my last mouthful.'
At length the strong door yielded-the
Blues burst into the apartment. 1t took
some little time to push back the distractions
and see clearly what was what through the
smoke of their own volley. They drew their
swords, and, as the dimness cleared away,
come of that large body of troops who had
resisted their entrance for half an hour.
Imagine their surprise, instead of finding
the owners of all those voices, they sa " only
one young and handsome man, tall, calm,
and with merry twinkle in his eyes eating
a slice of black loaf and washing it down
with the weak wine Of the country.
The soldiers of the Republic paused in
astonishment. This pause gave Victor
Baudelot time to toss off the last drop and
swallow the last mouthfal.
"Your good health, gentlemen" he cried,
lifting his wine glass to his lips. "The
garrison is much obliged to you for your
kind consideration"
AS he spoke he rose and went to their COM
mander.
Monsieur" said he, 81 am alone in this
house. You can shoot me behind the shrub
berry we see out yonder."
. He paused, and, to his great surprise, was
not shot moment after. 1t may have been
because his captors were recruits new to
Vendean warfare. 1t may have been be-
cause they were interested by his handsome
face, his gallant bearing, and his cool indif-
ference. Maybe they felt ashamed of shoot
ing in cold blood man who had defended
himself against three hundred of them.
They tied his hands behind his back, and,
under strict guard, sent him to country
house near Nantes, which had once been a
nobleman's mansion. The master of the
house was in compand of the very Blues
who had just seized and bound him. A Bre-
ton and gentleman (although he was a rev.
dictionary Republican, he had flung himself
heart and soul into the cause of liberty at
thes outset of the revolution. He was one
of those mobiles who in one night, that night
which has been called both the might of sac
rifces and the night of insanity" stripped
themselves of their fortunes, of their privi-
leges, of their armorial bearings, of their
very names; forgetting what was due to
their ancestors and their descendants, to the
past and to the future, and paid so dearly for
their imprudent enthusiasm during the re-
mainder of their lives.
They are now all dead. Some died the vic
Tins of that movement they too rashly served !;
some lived to see how little good their sacri-
fees accomplished.
Count Victor was imprisoned in the don :
jon tower Of the mansion; in other words,
the dovecote of the conqueror's establish
ment. The pigeons which had dwelt there in
the days of peace were now replaced from
time to time by chouans-chouan 1.-THE patois
name given for owl or bird of mighty being
the title given to the Royalists by the Repub-
licans. The dovecote still retained its peaked
roof of white slate and its tall weathercock,
nor had it been thought necessary to put
iron bars into the narrow, lofty openings
through which the doves once went and
came. Little indeed bad been added to the
furniture of the place for the accommoda-
ton of the new kind of birds who were too
often Gagged there nothing but some straw
upon the pavement, on which Count Victor
stretched himself in default of any chair.
He smiled at the idea of being shut up in
a pigeon house. If he could free his hands,
he thought, and get hold of guitar, what a
pretty little ballad he might make out of such
a situationl AS he was thinking over his bal
lad and wishing for the guitar he heard the
sound OF violin and bagpipes. These lively
instruments were playing gay march. Count
Victor started up from where he lay, and, by
showing all the straw up to the wall, managed
in spite of his bound hands. to climb up to
one of the openings and to look below him.
He looked down on merry fete. There was
long procession Of young men and fair
women, all in white, preceded by the music
of the village. The procession moved but
slowly, though the air played was gay. As it
passed under the pigeon house Tor if you will
the donjon keep of the fortressj yonng girl
looked up anxiously. She was fair, she was
elegant, she looked sad and was pale. Count
Victor saw at once she knew it contained a
prisoner; and as they passed on, he whistled
the air of King Richard in his captivity:
dams a,ae tour obscure"
sFor he was young man skilled in ballads as
well as arms, as good at guitar as at a
word thrust, FEARLESS rider, a gay dancer
IN short, brave young nobleman of the old
school, speci mems of whom we may still see
among French octogenarians; but the race
is no longer raised under tie changed social
conditions OF the present day.
The wedding party passed out of his sight,
1t was not exactly marriage procession.
however. 1T was only a betrothal. Count
Victor broke off his melody. He heard a.
noise at the door of his apartment. A man