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

by Eugène Sue

  CHAPTER VII.

  EZ-LIBR.

  It was close on midnight. The moon, now on the wane, had just risen in acloudless sky. Hardly had the silvery crescent lifted itself above thehorizon when the parish bells, spread over an area of about ten squareleagues round about the burg of Plouernel sounded the tocsin at theirloudest. At the signal, a troop of peasants armed with hatchets,hay-forks, scythes and old halberds, and preceded by a sort of vanguardconsisting of fifty men armed with muskets, sallied out of the burg ofPlouernel. They followed in silence the long avenue that led to the irongate of the court of honor before the castle. At the head of thisvanguard marched Gildas Lebrenn, the leasehold peasant of Karnak, Madokthe miller, three leasehold peasants of the domain of Plouernel itself,and Tankeru. Tankeru carried, flung over his shoulder, his heavyblacksmith's hammer into the head of which he had cut the Breton words:EZ-LIBR--To Be Free. His arms were bare; in the pocket of his leathernapron was a roll of paper partly visible above the edge. The light ofthe moon illumined Tankeru's face. In two nights the sturdy man's hairhad turned grey. His features were hardly recognizable since Tina'sdeath. Despair had left its stamp upon them. He stopped at about ahundred paces from the iron gate of the castle, and said to Madok in ahollow voice:

  "We swore to Salaun Lebrenn that we would follow his advice and placejustice on our side before coming to blows, and to submit the PeasantCode for the approval of the Seigneur Count. Perhaps he has alreadyhanged Salaun; but, dead or alive, Salaun has our word. We shall keepit! Tell our men to stop at the avenue. We shall enter the castleunarmed."

  The order was given and executed. The vanguard, together with the troopof armed vassals, halted under the trees of the avenue. Tankeru and hisfive companions advanced to the iron gate, which closed the entrance tothe court of honor and stood between two pavilions, where the gateman orporter was housed. The vestibule and all the windows on the first floorof the castle could be seen brilliantly illuminated. Tankeru drew nearthe gate and called:

  "Halloa! Porter! Porter! Come out!"

  The porter, clad in a rich livery, came out of one of the pavilions, andapproaching Tankeru, inquired:

  "Who goes there? What do you want?"

  "We want to speak with your master, and on the spot. Open the gate ofthe castle."

  "You, clown?" answered the porter, with the insolence of a lackey, as hespied through the iron bars the blacksmith and his companions, all ofwhom were poorly clad. "Go your ways! Go, barefooted rabble! If youdon't, I shall take my cane and come out--and then, look to your backs!"

  "If you do not open, I shall force the gate!" cried Tankeru to theporter, who started to return to his pavilion grumbling.

  Tankeru seized his hammer in both his hands, swung it, and with one blowsnapped the lock of the gate. It flew open. The frightened porter rantowards the winding staircase of the castle, shouting:

  "Help!"

  The six vassals entered the court of honor, and walked across it at arapid pace. Suddenly Tankeru stopped. His eyes had caught sight of threegibbets, recently reared, as shown by the fresh earth that was thrown upat their feet. He called Gildas's attention to the instruments of death,and said:

  "We arrive on time! The gibbets are intended for Salaun, his friendSerdan, and--"

  The blacksmith did not mention the name of Nominoe. His featurescontracted and assumed a frightful expression. The robust man smothereda sob, clenched with convulsive rage the handle of his heavy hammer, andpursued his march a few stops ahead of his companions.

  The frightened gateman rushed into the vestibule of the castle where alarge number of other lackeys were playing cards. Among the gamesterswas Sergeant La Montagne and his corporal. The soldiers of hisdetachment, tired out with their recent tramp, were resting in one ofthe adjoining out-buildings.

  "A number of vassals have forced open the gate!" shouted the porter ashe tumbled in. "They demand to see monseigneur immediately! Go and tellthe Count, and ask his orders!"

  One of the lackeys ran off to carry the news to his master. The Countwas at that moment discussing with his bailiffs, Abbot Boujaron and theMarchioness of Tremblay the sentence that was to be pronounced upon thethree "murderers" early next morning. At first stupefied at the audacityof his vassals, the Count bounded up with indignation, and left thehall, followed by his bailiffs and Abbot Boujaron. As the Abbot crossedthe vestibule he perceived Sergeant La Montagne, stepped towards him,and gave him a few hurried instructions in a low voice. The sergeantforthwith called to him his corporal, and both left the antechamber byan inside staircase. With his arm in a sling, followed by his bailiffs,and surrounded by a bevy of gallooned lackeys carrying torches in theirhands, the Count of Plouernel presented himself upon the stairway of thecastle at the moment when Tankeru was ascending the lower steps. Theblacksmith and his friends had reached the middle of the stairs when theAbbot said in an undertone to the young Count of Plouernel:

  "Gain time--a quarter of an hour, or if but ten minutes. The sergeanthas gone out to wake up the soldiers and arm them, together with theforester guards. We shall bag the whole pack."

  The Count of Plouernel nodded with his head approvingly to the Abbot,and addressed his vassals in an angry tone:

  "Wretches, who forced the gate of my court! What do you want? What doyou come for?"

  "You shall know in a minute, monseigneur," answered Tankeru in a firmvoice as he drew the scroll of paper from the pocket of his leathernapron. While so doing, he ascended the steps that separated him from thelanding where the Count of Plouernel stood, and handed him the writing:"Read this, if you please, monseigneur."

  "What is this silly paper that you hand me, rustic?"

  "It is the PEASANT CODE, monseigneur. Our code, the code of the poor, ofthe rustics, as you call us, Count of Plouernel."

  "In other words, ye clowns, you presume to discuss!"

  "Monseigneur," replied Tankeru, "we here are six honorable men who aredelegated by your vassals of Mezlean and Plouernel. In that writing,which contains the Peasant Code, we humbly present our grievances, andwe endeavor to lay down, as clearly as is in our power, the rules thatit may please you to observe towards us, monseigneur, from this day on.It is in great humbleness that we present our code to you, monseigneur."

  "A code! Rules dictated by this rustic rabble!" stammered the Count ofPlouernel, beside himself with rage. "The audacity! Is it insolence,carried to a climax? Is it folly? Or are these clowns simply drunk? Goback, rustics! Back to your work!"

  "Humor the miscreants," whispered the Abbot to the Count; "entertainthem, gain time; the soldiers and the foresters must be here soon--wemust bag the whole pack."

  "Indeed, my clowns. You present your grievances?" proceeded the Count ofPlouernel, thus admonished, with supreme disdain not unmixed withstupefaction. "So you have drawn up rules that it may please me toobserve towards you! The grievances of this plebs must be droll toread!"

  "We have taken the liberty, monseigneur, to submit our grievances toyou. We are at the end of our endurance; this must change! In short, wedemand of you no longer to be treated worse than draft animals; wedemand of you, monseigneur, no longer to be driven with sticks appliedto our backs; we demand of you, monseigneur, no longer to be overwhelmedwith taxes imposed at your _good pleasure_; we demand of you,monseigneur, no longer to be thrown into prison, whipped with switches,sent to the galleys, or hanged if we kill your stags, or your boars,when they enter our fields and ravage our crops; finally, we demand ofyou--but read the paper, monseigneur, and you will see that all we askis Justice--read the Peasant Code! Accept it; it will not ruin you--farfrom it! But then at least, we and our families would no longer die ofhunger, neither worse nor better than foundered horses! We shall stillcontinue to work for you from dawn to dusk, monseigneur, you will stillhave the larger share, we the smaller;--but then you would allow us tolive as the creatures of the good God should live! Accept the PeasantCode, monseigneur; sign it; be, then, faithful to your signature, andwe will be faithful to our agreement-
-it will mean peace--a good peacefor you and for our families."

  "Ho! Ho!" broke in the Count of Plouernel, whom the audacity of hisvassals threw into all manner of wrathful transports. "So, then, if Iaccept your code, we shall have peace? Whence it follows that, in case Irefuse--please complete your sentence!"

  "'Sdeath! It will then be war, monseigneur! And, take notice, it willthen be your fault, not ours," answered Tankeru resolutely. "Finally, inorder to cancel the whole bill, we demand of you that it may please youto set free three prisoners whom you are holding in the castle. Youintend to have them hanged. Well, monseigneur, you must deliver them tous, if you please; they must be set free--without further delay. Ifnot--"

  "If not?" cried the Count of Plouernel at the end of his patience. "If Irefuse to set the prisoners free, what will you do? Please answer,miserable fellow! What will you do? I would like to know!"

  "'Sdeath! Monseigneur, we shall set them free ourselves! We shall openthe war. It will be you who will have made the choice!"

  "This is too much!" cried the Count of Plouernel. But suddenly breakingoff and listening to windward, he turned to the Abbot and asked: "Is notthat the ringing of the tocsin that I hear from afar?"

  "Yes, monseigneur," observed Tankeru in a hollow voice that now waxedthreatening. "With the rise of the moon, the tocsin was rung in all theparishes of your seigniories of Plouernel and Mezlean--it is now ringingat Rennes--at Nantes--at Quimper, where the fight is on. Everywhere therevolt is on--war everywhere--in case our seigneurs refuse to accept thePeasant Code. Decide on the spot!"

  And pointing with his hand in the direction of the avenue to the castle,where the troop of armed vassals was assembled, the blacksmith added:

  "All the people of Plouernel and other parishes are yonder under arms;they are waiting for your answer, monseigneur! It will be peace, if yousign the Peasant Code and deliver us the prisoners; if not--fire andflames!--it will be war! War without mercy towards you, as you have beentowards us, merciless and pitiless."

  "Sergeant! Kill these rebels with your bayonets, or the brigands downthe avenue will hear the fire of your muskets and run to their help!"suddenly ordered the Count of Plouernel addressing Sergeant La Montagne,who, at the head of his men and hidden in the dark, had noiselesslycrept along the facade of the castle. "This way, foresters!" added theCount in a ringing voice. "The castle is going to be attacked! Kill,kill the malignant rustic plebs--kill them all!"

  "Run the clowns through! Let not one escape! Head and bowels! They triedto disarm us on the road to Mezlean!" cried Sergeant La Montagne. "Thisis our revenge! Prick them through and through! Death to the rustics!"

  At the word of command the soldiers suddenly rushed forth upon thestaircase, charging Tankeru and his companions with their bayonets.

  While the soldiers turned to obey the order to massacre the vassals uponthe stairway of the castle, Nominoe was awaiting death in his cell,whither the forester guards of the Count had taken him. The bailiff ofthe seigniory, assisted by his registrar, had proceeded to interrogatethe prisoner, who was charged with a murderous attempt, followed bywounds, upon the person of the very high, very powerful and veryredoubtable seigneur, etc. Nominoe remained silent, declining to answerany of the bailiff's questions. The only words he uttered were toinquire about the condition of Mademoiselle Plouernel. Not consideringit fit to impart the information to the prisoner, the officer of justiceonce more urged him to consider that his refusal to answer the chargesagainst him was equivalent to a confession of guilt on his part, andthat the crime, in which he was caught red-handed, was punishable withdeath. The prisoner was to appear early the next morning at the bar ofthe seigniorial tribunal, together with his two accomplices, guilty likehimself of attempted murder, also followed by serious wounds upon theperson of the very high, very powerful and very redoubtable seigneur,etc. The execution of the sentence was immediately to follow thejudgment. The three gibbets were to be erected that same night. Nominoepersisted in his silence. Thereupon the bailiff and the registrar tooktheir departure, and he was left alone.

  "To die!" pondered Nominoe. "I am about to die. Or rather, I am about tobe re-born yonder! Oh! I would greet that new life with a shout of joy,were it not for my sorrow at departing from this world at the verymoment when there is about to break out the revolt of which my father isthe soul, and which, under his direction, might have led to theoverthrow of the royal power itself. This is what attaches me to life."

  Absorbed in his meditations, Nominoe had not noticed that for aconsiderable space of time the sound of a number of bells, thoughweakened by the distance, reached him through the air-hole of his cell.Suddenly a tumultuous noise that drew nearer and nearer attracted hisattention. With the noise of the tumult was speedily mingled thedetonations of musketry fire, frequent and well sustained, and butirregularly answered. Little by little the musketry discharges ceased.The turmoil seemed hushed. A long silence ensued--and, presently, areddish glint of flames penetrated through the air-hole of the cell,reflected itself upon the opposite wall, and speedily threw the sameinto a flamboyant glare. It was the war upon the castles that broke out!Peace to the huts, war to the palaces!

  "The vassals have attacked the feudal manor--they have seized it--theyare in the halls! They are now setting it on fire!" cried Nominoe,ecstatic with joy. But immediately struck by an opposite train ofthought: "Good God! What will become of Bertha!"

  A prey to distracting anxiety, Nominoe dashed himself against the thickand iron-studded door; vainly he sought to break it down with hisshoulders. Presently loud cries reached his ears. They proceeded from athrong of people, who, rushing by the air-hole of his cell, shoutedaloud to one another:

  "The prisoners must be here! This way! this way! break open their cells!The fire is spreading! Save the prisoners! Save the prisoners!"

  "God be blessed! Perhaps I may yet see Bertha--and save her once more!"cried Nominoe.

  Encouraged by this thought, Nominoe approached his lips to the key-holeand called out:

  "Friends! This way! This way!"

  "Here I am!" answered the voice of Tankeru. "I have heard you! I amcoming!" And turning the key, which was left by the jailer in the lockoutside, he opened the door. The blacksmith stepped into the cell ofNominoe.

  Tankeru looked ashen pale. He bled. He had received two bayonetthrusts--one in the arm, the other in the thigh. When, with felledbayonets, the soldiers charged upon the delegates of the vassals, theblacksmith, armed with his hammer, a fearful weapon in his hands,succeeded in beating his way through the soldiers and joined hiscompanions who were waiting for him outside the gate. Immediatelyplacing himself at the head of the vassals' troop, he marched back withthem upon the castle and successfully conducted the assault. Theforester guards, the soldiers, the Count's hunting men, concealed behindthe embrasures of the windows on the ground floor, directed a plungingfire against the assailants. Many of these fell mortally wounded. Thesurvivors rushed up the wide stairway with Tankeru at their head. Thedoor of the vestibule was beaten down; a stubborn and bloody combatimmediately ensued inside the edifice. Victory fell to the vassals.Heated and furious with the ardor of the battle, these threw down andsmashed whatever they could lay hands upon in the sumptuous castle.Tankeru and several other peasants proceeded immediately to search forSerdan, Salaun and Nominoe. A fleeing lackey who was caught, pointed outthe building in which the prison was situated, and tendered his servicesto the vassals as a guide while he begged for his life. He led them tothe jail. It was then that Tankeru heard Nominoe's voice and steppedinto his cell.

  At the aspect of Tina's father Nominoe forgot the anxious thoughts thatbut a moment before were assailing him, and fell back terror-stricken asif a living remorse had suddenly risen before him. With featuresdistorted by fury, the blacksmith bounded forward, raising his hammer,over the head of him whom he held responsible for the death of hisdaughter.

  "Strike!" said Nominoe without moving, and lowering his head withresignation. "Strike! It is your right."
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  The blacksmith lowered his hammer, remained for a moment steeped inthought, and then said with icy calmness:

  "You shall die; but, before you do, you shall know how my daughterdied!"

  Again the blacksmith paused, and again proceeded:

  "Listen, murderer. On the day of the wedding, as you know, I took flightupon seeing that the attempt to disarm the soldiers miscarried. Afterdark I returned to my house; I knocked at the door; my mother opened it.She was pale; she was sobbing. I asked what was the matter--as yet Iknew nothing. She answered: 'It is all over. Nominoe has fled. He saidto Salaun and Tina that they would nevermore see him. The child wasbrought home in a swoon. A short while ago she regained consciousness.She is upstairs. She is spinning at her wheel as if nothing hadhappened. She does not speak. She does not weep--she frightens me--Ifear the poor girl has gone crazy.'"

  "Oh, God!" murmured Nominoe, hiding his face, in his hands. "Poor child!Poor--poor child!"

  "Upon hearing these words from my mother," Tankeru proceeded withoutseeming to hear the painful wail that escaped Nominoe, "at these wordsfrom my mother, I was at first seized with a vertigo. The blood rushedto my brain; I fell seated upon a bench; my head reeled. Presently Icould think again. I said to myself--it is done for my daughter, griefwill kill her! I went upstairs. Tina, seated before her wheel, spun. Hereyes were fixed; her cheeks were purple; heavy drops of sweat rolleddown her forehead. When I came in, her eyes were turned in mydirection--she did not budge--she did not recognize me. I believed shewas crazy; sobs choked me. I called to her--'Tina! Tina! My child!' Noanswer; no look of recognition--nothing! nothing! I left her to mymother's care, and ran to Vannes in quest of a physician. I trembledwith fear lest he should arrive too late. I informed the physician ofwhat had happened. He took horse, and followed me. I ran afoot fasterthan he on horseback. I knocked again at our door, and entering I askedmy mother: 'Is she dead?' 'No,' she answered, 'she had a spell ofweakness, but, upon recovering, she recognized me. I wished to undressher to lay her to bed. She wept and begged me not to take off herwedding clothes. She is now on her bed.' We ran upstairs with thephysician. We found her lying on her bed with her nuptial headdress andclothes. She had grown so pale that I shivered. This time she recognizedand stretched out her arms to me. She endeavored to rise; her strengthfailed her. I approached close to her pale face; she embraced me--herlips were icy--also her cheeks. I realized on the instant that she wasexpiring. I felt as if my heart was being wrung--I screamed with actualpain! My mother drew me away. I had forgotten the physician. Hecontemplated my daughter for a long time; he touched her hand, herforehead; and then he motioned to me to leave the room with him. Thesudden shock that my daughter had sustained caused all her blood to rushto her heart; a blood vessel had burst; she was dying. That was what thephysician said to me. I returned to Tina's room. She endeavored tosmile--what a smile!--and she said to us, to my mother and me: 'Give meyour dear hands, and leave them in mine till the end.' She pressed themgently, and a little later said: 'Oh! that warms me up.' Poor dearchild, her hands were so cold! her little hands were already so coldthat they froze the very marrow in my bones. I sought to comfort her.She shook her head and said to my mother: 'Do you see grandma, do younow agree that heaven does send us tokens to prepare us for misfortune?The black crow of this morning? The little dead dove? Do you remember?No--God did not wish me to be the wife of Nominoe. We exchangedrings'--and she raised to her lips the ring that she wore on herfinger--'I was his wife, and see me, now, his widow before his death. Hemarried me only out of kindness, but the Lord God did not want thatmarriage. May His will be done! May Nominoe be happy! Father, you mustpardon him, as I pardon him the sorrow that, despite himself, he hascaused us. It is not his fault. Had he been able to love me with ahusband's love he would have loved me. Pardon for him--it is the lastrequest of your daughter Tina. She also asks you to bury her in herbridal robe, with her ring and her nuptial ribbons. Good father, adieu!Grandma, adieu. Leave your hands in mine--I die--'"

  Tankeru could not finish the sentence. His voice, which trembled moreand more as he proceeded, utterly broke down. Sobs convulsed his frame.In the tenderness of his grief he forgot for a moment the revengefulrage that transported him, and he himself repeated the supreme lastwords of Tina--the pardon that with her last breath she implored forNominoe! The latter, utterly overwhelmed with the distressful report ofTina's last hours, listened to it in mournful silence. So profound washis grief, so sincere his remorse, that he never thought of his anxietyconcerning the fate of Mademoiselle Plouernel. Suddenly Tankeru's tearsceased to flow. With them also ceased his tenderness. Only his despairnow remained. His fury was rekindled; he picked up the hammer that hadfallen at his feet, swung it in the air and rushed upon Nominoe crying:

  "I have informed you of the sufferings and the agony of yourvictim--now, assassin, die!"

  The heavy hammer of the blacksmith rose to drop upon the head ofNominoe. The latter jumped aside, threw his arms around Tankeru's neck,embraced him effusively, and said in a voice choked with tears:

  "I do not fear death! Not that! But, believe me, my death would one dayweigh heavily upon your conscience! You loved my mother so dearly! Tinahas pardoned me, and she asked you to have mercy upon me! You see mytears, my remorse--you loved me once--your heart is good--uncle!uncle!--do not kill me! Eternal remorse would pursue you for the act!"

  The touching words of Nominoe, his tender embrace, the memory of hissister, the last words of Tina, the paternal affection he had alwaysfelt for his nephew disarmed Tankeru. The hammer slipped from his handand fell at his feet.

  At that moment Serdan and Salaun Lebrenn, whom the vassals had freed,entered precipitately into the cell. Serdan cried out:

  "Flee! Flee! The fire is reaching the building!"

  Having overheard his son's words in answer to Tankeru's threat to killhim, Salaun took the blacksmith's hand and pressing it warmly in hisown, said:

  "Brother, I swear to God! Despite the immensity of the wrong that he hasdone, Nominoe does deserve, if not your pardon, at least your pity!"

  "The fire! The fire!" cried several peasants who had descended into theprison to deliver the captives, and who, having regained the stairs, nowran through the gallery of cells. In view of the increasing danger, theblacksmith, Salaun and his son dashed across the black clouds of smoke,picking their way by the ruddy reflections which the conflagrationprojected upon the steps of the staircase through the prison gate, thatlooked like the mouth of a roaring furnace. Nominoe followed close uponthe steps of his father and the blacksmith who preceded him. Despite theimminence of the danger that he ran, the youth's thoughts now returnedto Mademoiselle Plouernel. In heartrending accents he muttered:

  "Oh, woe! Oh, woe! The fire is consuming the castle. What may havebecome of her? Where may Bertha be?"

  "She is safe!" answered Serdan, who, happening to walk close by the sideof Nominoe, had overheard him. "The peasants informed us that, oncemasters of the castle, their companions took care of their _gooddemoiselle_. A carriage was quickly hitched to a team of horses, andMademoiselle Plouernel departed with her nurse and an equerry toMezlean. The Marchioness, terror-stricken, died of apoplexy."

  Tankeru, Serdan, Salaun Lebrenn and Nominoe made their escape throughthe underground staircase of the prison building. The building itselfwas now ablaze, the same as all the out-houses appertaining to thecastle. Their roofs fell with crash upon crash within the walls thathad partly crumbled in the conflagration, and shot up long streamers offire and sparkling embers. Seeing that the castle itself did not containthe mass of combustible materials of all sorts with which the out-houseswere filled, it offered a longer resistance to the conflagration. Offand on a tongue of fire would be seen expiring in the midst of smokethat was still escaping from the windows on the ground floor; the panesof glass had exploded noisily and the frames were charred black. But thefire spared the upper floors where the vassals still pursued their workof devastation, throwing out of the windows pieces of f
urniture, lookingglasses, bedding, books, pictures. Debris of all kinds was heaped in thecenter of the court of honor, and the insurgents turned the heap into ahuge bonfire that lighted the three gibbets which were erected forSalaun, Serdan and Nominoe, but from which now dangled the lifelessbodies of the Count of Plouernel, Abbot Boujaron and Sergeant LaMontagne, all three objects of the implacable hatred of the people--the_seigneur_, the _priest_ and the _King's soldier_.

  Informed of the death of his brother Gildas who was massacred togetherwith the other delegates of the vassals, Tankeru excepted, Salaun lookedfor and found the body, and laid it in a grave that he dug with theassistance of Tankeru, Serdan and Nominoe. That funeral duty beingfulfilled, Salaun said to them, as he sadly contemplated the scene ofwreck and ruin which they had been unable to prevent:

  "Oh, my son! my friends! Had we been free, we would have succeeded inpreventing these acts of savagery that are so fatal to our cause! Alas,it is now too late! What is the mysterious law that causes there-vindication of human rights ever to drag excesses in its wake! Thevassals of the Count of Plouernel first submitted their grievanceshumbly to him, and presented the surely legitimate demands which theyformulated in the Peasant Code. Had the Count listened to their claims,he would have done an act of humanity and justice, and he would havepreserved his privileges. By yielding to the peasants' wishes, anddiscontinuing to look upon his peasants as beasts of burden, that manwould have shown himself not only just, but also intelligent in his owninterest. If these wretched people were spared the homicidal privationsthat, before taking them to their graves, gradually sap their health,undermine their strength, and render them unfit for continued toil, theywould have yielded more wealth to him, and would have rendered morefruitful the seigniorial domains. But no! In his pitiless egotism, theCount of Plouernel answered the peasants' prayers with disdain, withinsult, with murder! They thereupon grew furious, enraged. They returnedblow for blow, death for death; gave themselves over to frightful actsof reprisal; killed their seigneur; and now ravage and burn down hiscastle! It will cost the brother of the Count of Plouernel a good dealto repair the disasters of this single night--twenty times more than itwould have cost the Count to ease his vassals for a century and more ofthe taxes that oppressed them. Alas! This is not an isolated instancein history. Did not the seigneurs and their bishops proceed in the samemanner during the Middle Ages towards those communes which our ancestorFergan the Quarryman was one of the most intrepid to defend? Thecommuniers also began with humble supplications to their seigneurs, ortheir bishops, to alleviate their taxes. But both seigneurs and bishopsordered their men-at-arms to mow down the 'villains' and 'clowns.' And,thereupon, 'clowns' and 'villains' rose in revolt, and, arms in hand, atthe price of their blood, and after taking signal vengeance, conqueredthe franchises and the charters--the safeguards of their freedom! Evenduring the last century, did not the Reformers first request humbly thatthey be granted the right to exercise their own cult? But the Church andthe Crown answered their prayers with the pyre and wholesale massacres.And thereupon the Reformers in turn, rose in revolt, and, after a halfcentury of bloody religious wars, the Edict of Nantes finallyconsecrated and confirmed the four edicts of tolerance which theHuguenots had conquered, arms in hand. And yet, as our ancestorChristian the printer said in the days of Francis I, a simple decree oftwo lines only, recognizing in all the right to exercise their cult,while respecting the cult of others, would have avoided the dreadfulcatastrophes that Catholic intolerance brought upon France for overfifty years. What is the reason that all civil, political or religiousreform can be conquered only at the price of blood and of frightfuldisasters? Alas! simply because the nobility, the clergy and royaltylook upon all attempt to curb or clip the rights, that they considersacred, as an outrage, as theft, and as the ruination of the land;because they never will consent voluntarily to curtail their privileges,these being the source of their power and their wealth; because, evendid they grant some measure of reform under the pressure of necessity,they would strive to withdraw what they conceded, the moment theythought the danger was over."

  "But, at least, however violent the reaction against the reforms thatare granted, something always remains; some gain always is left,"observed Nominoe. "It is only by this process, slowly, painfully, andstep by step, that human progress pursues its course across the ages."

  "Oh!" broke in Salaun. "Without this deep-rooted faith in theirresistible progress of humanity, a progress that is as evident as thesun's light, what would man be? A sport of accident, a blind creature,fated to wear himself out with impotent efforts in the midst of eternaldarkness! No; no. You did not wish that, Oh, God of justice! You havepointed out a sublime goal to man! His free will chooses the path, be itslow or swift, easy or painful, peaceful or bloody. Your sovereign willis bound to be accomplished, it is in process of beingaccomplished.--And now, my friends, seeing we were not able to preventthese dreadful acts of reprisal, let us rally the peasants. Our troopwill be swollen by accessions from all the parishes that are now inrevolt. We shall march upon Rennes in order to bring assistance to thepeople and the bourgeois there in arms. The other chieftains, at thehead of the peasants of the districts of Nantes and of Quimper, will,on their part, carry succor to their respective cities in revolt. Fromthat moment, the victorious insurrection, mistress of Brittany as it isof Guyenne, of Languedoc, of Saintonge and of Dauphine, will impose thePEASANT CODE upon the clergy and the seigniory, and its national reformsupon Louis XIV!--THE LAND SHALL BELONG TO THOSE WHO CULTIVATE IT."