The Crimson Heirlooms

by Hunter Dennis

  “I beg to be corrected, Madame.”

  “There are few people who are honored with the joy of meeting God - few who have experienced the rapture of the Heavenly Presence. Yet, there are many who believe and have faith, and take great comfort from it. There are many who love God, yet have not seen Him. As we take our lessons in life from Our Father, we must take our lesson regarding earthly love.”

  “Love is faith, then.”

  “Love, Monsieur Traversier, is a decision. True love, then, is a decision undertaken by individuals of pure moral character, with impregnable integrity, who maintain their decision through any trial, with the help of God.”

  “You made a decision to love Monsieur.”

  “I was destined to wed him, so I knew of him. I knew he was a man of impeccable character and faith. I knew, come what may, that he would marry me, and when he did, he would make the lifelong decision to love and cherish me, regardless of circumstance. I, too, strive to live in Christlike fashion. I too, come what may, decided to love and cherish Monsieur once I was his wife.”

  Xavier would have doubted her words, had they not both been so obviously happy and in love. They were happy because they could rely completely on the foundation of values and trust provided by the other. As she spoke, an inner strength and unshakeable faith became more and more apparent. To Madame, Christ was as real as the floor beneath her feet. Xavier had no conception of how such a thing could come to be, or why a human being of such intelligence could stomach something so irrational as religious superstition.

  It was so different, the lives of these people. To Xavier, it seemed there were two nations living side-by-side, with almost nothing in common between them. He did, however, genuinely like them both, and hoped the feeling was mutual.

  Two hours later, the Messieurs retired to the library with coffee and cognac. Xavier would have given an arm for a good American cigar, but he knew if the nobility did partake of tobacco, it was usually as snuff. Bonchamps, in any case, did not seem to partake at all. The library itself was well-stocked. It was, of course, nowhere near as large as the one in the Meilleur - which could have fit most of the entire château. Xavier looked over the books, surprised to see Candide by Voltaire. “Are you a student of the Enlightenment, Monsieur?”

  “A student, yes.”

  “I am surprised. I would have thought that Enlightenment philosophy would offend you.”

  “What would give you such an impression?”

  “Admittedly, it is more of a bias than an impression. The Enlightenment wishes change. I assumed you would not wish change.”

  “Reforms are always needed, and corruption must always be sought out and eliminated. I am very much for those kind of reforms, and so are most minds of the Enlightenment.”

  “It is anti-noble, and anti-monarchical, quite often.”

  “Yes, and oddly, most nobles in France adore it all. I study the Enlightenment because it exists, it is a reality and influences the times I live in. I personally have found that knowledge, absorbed by the right kind of mind, is rain on fertile soil.” He paused, then repeated himself, “To the right kind of mind.”

  “You have an excellent library.”

  “Thank you. I’m afraid half my books are loaned to the village. Well, a quarter to Father Jonathan, and a quarter to his young protégé Estelle Guerrier.”

  “And what do you think of these ideas? Those of the Enlightenment?” asked Xavier. Part of him thought bringing up the subject was ill-advised, based on the purpose of his visit - but part of him simply wanted to know. He found Bonchamps to be engaging, and his thoughts coming from a different perspective that he wished to understand.

  Bonchamps shrugged, “I think the Enlightenment is already over. I think Rousseau brought the end.”

  “You begin with your finale,” laughed Xavier, “How so?”

  “The Enlightenment produced many interesting ideas, but one could say all of them are summed up by Descartes - ‘I think, therefore, I am.’ All knowledge should be gained solely through observation of fact. Tout court.”

  “Before Descartes. Bacon and Empiricism.”

  “Indeed. But Rousseau’s ideas have nothing to do with fact tested through scientific observation. His ideas are those of an artist. They are emotional, subjective - almost… theological, in tone. Rousseau is anti-Enlightenment. He is intuition and emotion over reason - but is mistaken for being the current primary proponent of the Enlightenment.”

  “An interesting thought.”

  “But do you see the danger, Monsieur?” Bonchamps asked with an earnest intensity, “We are in a time when people assume the philosopher must speak from fact - and here has come this influential man who speaks from emotion, and it is mistaken for observation. Rousseau is more of a prophet than an observer. No, something has changed. The Enlightenment has become a religion, replete with dogma, fanaticism, prophets and clergy. It is a movement that has completely lost its objectivity. It is now simply a faith, which has relabeled all of its trappings - and claims to despise religion, and those self-same trappings! All this with adamantine self-righteousness, and absolutely no sense of hypocrisy whatsoever.”

  Xavier was surprised that Bonchamps was such an exploratory thinker, and even more shocked to realize he might be partly right.

  Bonchamps continued, “After the Protestant Reformation, there was a Catholic movement, a Counter-Reformation, that has consumed our art and thought to this day. Although now they are best described as Counter-Enlightenment, although that is a grim appellation on its face. To be honest, I find these new Catholic thinkers far more interesting than the current Enlightenment thinkers. There has been a theological revolution right under the nose of the empirical philosophers.”

  Xavier had never heard of such a thing. “What would be an example of this thought? Who are its greatest minds?”

  “Abbé Fleury, Hamann, Vico, Pluche, Déguig?”

  Xavier searched his mind. None sounded familiar in the least.

  Bonchamps continued, “The Pastor of Gap? No?” Xavier smiled, and shook his head. “Moliniere, Massillon, the Bishop of Meaux? No?”

  “I’m afraid not, Monsieur. But I am intrigued. Is it possible to briefly summate their theories?”

  “I will try,” said Bonchamps, with a thoughtful whisper. He sat, and placed his hands below his chin. “Catholicism has given humanity an encompassing world view, but it has provided more than that. It is a way of life. It delineates the days, gives time for rest and work. Its customs, rules, sacraments and traditions are building blocks for the communal life of individuals and communities. It creates a sense of well-being, independent of anything else.”

  “I will take your word for it.”

  “Did you know there is no crime here, from the Loire to the Vendée? It is unheard of. Here is truly an environment free of trouble and worry - simply because of the advanced state of mind of its inhabitants. If one were to consider humanity as a type of animal, akin to farmers considering chickens or horses, one would say Catholic village life is the correct way to raise people. People do well in such an environment. They are happy and fulfilled and content.”

  “Perhaps some people.”

  “Most, let us say.”

  “Then let us say most.”

  “But there is the problem,” continued Bonchamps, “What about the few who need something different? In the past, these different few always understood why the lives of the many should be this way, and let the peasants live their lives. But no more.”

  “What is different now?”

  “Why… it is you,” Bonchamps said with a smile.

  “Myself?” said Xavier, delighted with the conversation.

  “Why yes, you, François-Xavier Traversier, deacon of the church of the bourgeois Enlightenment, the few, the vocal, the powerful. Unless I have sussed out your heart incorrectly.”

  “No, you are quite correct, Monsieur,” Xavier admitted.

  “The majority of people do not
need or desire independence. Independence is hurtful to them. If most people were granted independence from the community of the church, they would be the worst enemy of themselves and their communities.”

  “Am I an enemy to myself then?” Xavier said with a smile.

  “Only to your salvation,” shot back Bonchamps, lightly and with a smile. “You are not the group I am referring to. You are the new group, the new man, who confounds and alarms the church. The bourgeois wish to have what they are able to earn, they want nothing to do with a church that professes equality, however imperfectly and hypocritically. You desire knowledge based on hard facts and observation, and have an almost fanatical bias against the supernatural and the mystical - and the basis of the church can only be described as such. You wish no part of a church that wishes to take away your prerogatives as a thinking man, that would prevent you from questioning God and his servants, and you demand explanations placed within a context you deem worthy.”

  “And we do not accept the church as suitable for any man.”

  “Indeed. You believe all men should be free from the church, even though, from a purely objective standpoint, the church is obviously the habitat of man. Simple faith, the faith that does not rely on argument or intellectualism, is the savior of the majority. Yet this new man wishes to kick out the crutch, so to speak, and have those who cannot walk on their own crawl, to appease the dogmatic tenets of the bourgeois. The bourgeois are willing to throw the majority of mankind into the stewpot of sacrifice, if only to erase a possible enemy to their own way of life.”

  “I cannot argue. Most of your words, both dire and agreeable, seem to ring true.”

  “The presence of life is supernatural. It cannot be explained. The very existence of the universe cannot be explained. It is also therefore supernatural. To force oneself to not believe in the supernatural requires tremendous faith. In other words, you have faith in not having faith. How does the church reach such a man?”

  “Perhaps it is impossible.”

  “Are you happy, Monsieur Traversier?”

  For some reason, Xavier did not find the question objectionable. Perhaps it was simply because he liked Bonchamps. The young Marquis did not judge him, seemed to like him, and would probably give him the shirt off his back, if he required it. It is difficult to be offended by such a man. He answered, “No, Monsieur. I am not happy. You find yourself happy, presumably?”

  Bonchamps smiled, “At the moment, yes. But, more importantly, I am at peace. Something terrible could happen, and most assuredly I would not be happy. But I would still be at peace. There is an important distinction, I think.”

  “But to defeat me and those like me, Monsieur, you cannot simply point out that we are unhappy. You must destroy our hope in our dreams. All of us pursue lives that we believe, in our bones, will give us love, safety and security - eventually. We scoff at you, for we have faith in our path.”

  “Well-spoken.”

  “Also, it is difficult to understand how such positive things emanate from your dogma. How does one live in fear of breaking the rules - and then find serenity? How does one fear hell and judgment only to find joy? How does one surrender free will and feel anything but the yoke of slavery?”

  Bonchamps nodded, “There is a prayer, adopted from the gospels. ‘Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof. But only say the word and my soul shall be healed.”

  Xavier nodded, “The Centurion. He wanted Christ to heal his servant.”

  “Yes. The prayer is different from the scripture. Not to horrify the Protestant, but the prayer, to me, is even more impactful and relevant. In saying this prayer, I acknowledge my flawed nature, I turn to God, the fountain of all good, and beg for redemption through him. We are forgiven – indeed, we are loved beyond measure. Our nature is pleasing to our creator, who revels in us and takes joy in our being – and has given us forgiveness and grace. Everything is as it should be. No man should wake in the morning with anxiety upon his heart - but I do not begrudge you the freedom to do so.” They both exchanged grins, then Bonchamps was pensive once again. “There is much in the Enlightenment teachings with which I agree. But its anticlericalism alarms me, and I believe it to be shortsighted.”

  “How so?”

  “Religion, for all of its faults, has also been a moral brake on power and authority. Rulers of Christian nations must at least pay lip service to Christian ideals. Their laws and abuses can only go so far before the church is forced to castigate them.”

  “I will concede your point. It is mildly put, and agrees with what I know of history. But there is something else I know of history, Monsieur, and that regards the corruption of the church itself. What happens when these spiritual gatekeepers are the perpetrators of abuse?”

  “Yes, and I must concede that point. But imagine this, mon ami. Imagine an empowered government, filled with men who have no true values, who eschew any moral authority whatsoever, except their own. A powerful state, trailblazing its own morality, as it sees fit.”

  Xavier did imagine it, and realized there was some truth to Bonchamps’s fears.

  The Marquis shook his head, “Even under the best of circumstances, man succumbs to temptation. When the church rots, some say ‘down with the church.’ What they should actually be considering is that if man can corrupt the church, he can corrupt anything and everything - nothing on earth is exempt. If love of God does not provide a check on power, we must be sure that our laws do this, somehow. But I do not understand how law can have power if it has no true moral authority, and is based on no true ethical code.”

  “Well, if the law is backed by force, it has the ultimate power of authority. One would argue that force is the only authority that truly matters to the corrupt. To say that the law is more powerful with God behind it is perhaps naive. Law is fundamentally based on the threat of the bayonet.”

  Bonchamps rubbed his chin, “I concede your point, Monsieur. I think you might be right.” Bonchamps was quiet for a moment, then spoke again, “I do not think modern thought will lead to much good for mankind. Our philosophers define man as a perfect creature waiting to burst through the bonds of oppression. In other words, man is solely affected, and need only concern himself, with economics and law. It is as if every other aspect of our being will sort itself out perfectly, and without attention.”

  “Man is good in his natural state.”

  “Yes, which is, of course, nonsense. Man, in his natural state, is savage. Spirituality, culture, relations between the sexes, community, and even the traditions of family are simply ignored by the modern. These aspects of our existence are seemingly not important. Yet, are they not the most important aspects of our lives? Law and economics serve those aspects, and not the other way around, do they not?”

  “Again, it is your villain Rousseau. Without oppression, man is perfect, so why concern oneself? Unburden man through law and economics, and everything else will sort itself.”

  “Have you read Rousseau’s Confessions?”

  “His autobiography? I’m afraid I have not. Surprisingly, for at one point I devoured his work.”

  “Does knowledge offend or scare you, Monsieur?”

  “No, I take your tack with it.”

  “And your tack is, shall we say, full-sail with the wind?”

  “Indeed, Monsieur.”

  Bonchamps stood, and slipped the book from its shelf, gently, as if it were gunpowder. “I wish to give this to you. I would very much like for you to read it. You are quite intelligent, Monsieur Traversier. I would simply have you draw your own conclusions.”

  Xavier stood, and took the book from Bonchamps. “I will, Monsieur Bonchamps. I thank you for the gift.”

  Bonchamps indicated a chair for Xavier, then took his own. “I have taken up your valuable time. You have asked to meet with me regarding your business. I am at your service, Monsieur.”

  “I am here because I was told that you have the respect, and the ear, of the farmers of
the area.”

  “The area?”

  “I do not know what to call it. Perhaps you described it yourself - from the Loire to the Vendée. The land that is different that has no name.”

  “I know many of the farmers here. I know lords and priests from other parishes and communes, as well.”

  “I have been spinning linen thread of the highest quality, little by little, since 1776. This thread has been treated with lavender oils, exposed to sunlight, and packed in airtight containers. I have purchased the most modern kind of textile looms, the Vaucanson loom, which utilizes punch cards to program patterns into the fabric. My linen thread must now be dyed, in order to be woven into fabric. In addition, I do not see my demand for linen or dye becoming anything but more voracious. But, most importantly, I need red, blue and yellow pigment, post haste. I am preparing this dye myself. I am doing everything, except the very growing of the roots and flowers.”

  “Which you now need.”

  “Yes.”

  “So, you need guède, garance, and mignonette. By the cartload.”

  “Yes, Monsieur.”

  “How much linen?”

  “I have nearly 40 tons.”

  “By what date must your linen be dyed?”

  “I have recently purchased an ocean-going vessel. My ship needs repairs and additional outfitting. My goal is to leave in exactly twenty-four months. In addition to paying full-market price for pigments, I will give one-hundred and fifty feet of good rope for each cartload. For now, and forever, I need any and all hemp and flax, not processed, simply pulled with its roots from the ground. To be quite honest, I have come to buy flax and hemp from eastern Europe, my demand being so great. As a businessman, and as a Frenchman, this will not do for long, and I wish to find better long-term solutions. But the pigments, those I need as soon as I can get them. Now and for the foreseeable future.”

  “I can certainly be your ally in this. It will be beneficial to the farmers to grow more flax.”

  “I am relieved to hear that. And I agree.”