the chouans-第4节

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　days　of　her　exile。

Brittany　is　the　region　in　all　France　where　the　manners　and　customs　of　the　Gauls　have　left　their　strongest　imprint。　That　portion　of　the　province　where；　even　to　our　own　times；　the　savage　life　and　superstitious　ideas　of　our　rude　ancestors　still　continueif　we　may　use　the　wordrampant；　is　called　〃the　country　of　the　Gars。〃　When　a　canton　（or　district）　is　inhabited　by　a　number　of　half…savages　like　the　one　who　has　just　appeared　upon　the　scene；　the　inhabitants　call　them　〃the　Gars　of　such　or　such　a　parish。〃　This　classic　name　is　a　reward　for　the　fidelity　with　which　they　struggle　to　preserve　the　traditions　of　the　language　and　manners　of　their　Gaelic　ancestors；　their　lives　show　to　this　day　many　remarkable　and　deeply　embedded　vestiges　of　the　beliefs　and　superstitious　practices　of　those　ancient　times。　Feudal　customs　are　still　maintained。　Antiquaries　find　Druidic　monuments　still　standing。　The　genius　of　modern　civilization　shrinks　from　forcing　its　way　through　those　impenetrable　primordial　forests。　An　unheard…of　ferociousness；　a　brutal　obstinacy；　but　also　a　regard　for　the　sanctity　of　an　oath；　a　complete　ignoring　of　our　laws；　our　customs；　our　dress；　our　modern　coins；　our　language；　but　withal　a　patriarchal　simplicity　and　virtues　that　are　heroic；unite　in　keeping　the　inhabitants　of　this　region　more　impoverished　as　to　all　intellectual　knowledge　than　the　Redskins；　but　also　as　proud；　as　crafty；　and　as　enduring　as　they。　The　position　which　Brittany　occupies　in　the　centre　of　Europe　makes　it　more　interesting　to　observe　than　Canada。　Surrounded　by　light　whose　beneficent　warmth　never　reaches　it；　this　region　is　like　a　frozen　coal　left　black　in　the　middle　of　a　glowing　fire。　The　efforts　made　by　several　noble　minds　to　win　this　glorious　part　of　France；　so　rich　in　neglected　treasures；　to　social　life　and　to　prosperity　have　all；　even　when　sustained　by　government；　come　to　nought　against　the　inflexibility　of　a　population　given　over　to　the　habits　of　immemorial　routine。　This　unfortunate　condition　is　partly　accounted　for　by　the　nature　of　the　land；　broken　by　ravines；　mountain　torrents；　lakes；　and　marshes；　and　bristling　with　hedges　or　earth…works　which　make　a　sort　of　citadel　of　every　field；　without　roads；　without　canals；　and　at　the　mercy　of　prejudices　which　scorn　our　modern　agriculture。　These　will　further　be　shown　with　all　their　dangers　in　our　present　history。

The　picturesque　lay　of　the　land　and　the　superstitions　of　the　inhabitants　prevent　the　formation　of　communities　and　the　benefits　arising　from　the　exchange　and　comparison　of　ideas。　There　are　no　villages。　The　rickety　buildings　which　the　people　call　homes　are　sparsely　scattered　through　the　wilderness。　Each　family　lives　as　in　a　desert。　The　only　meetings　among　them　are　on　Sundays　and　feast…days　in　the　parish　church。　These　silent　assemblies；　under　the　eye　of　the　rector　（the　only　ruler　of　these　rough　minds）　last　some　hours。　After　listening　to　the　awful　words　of　the　priest　they　return　to　their　noisome　hovels　for　another　week；　they　leave　them　only　to　work；　they　return　to　them　only　to　sleep。　No　one　ever　visits　them；　unless　it　is　the　rector。　Consequently；　it　was　the　voice　of　the　priesthood　which　roused　Brittany　against　the　Republic；　and　sent　thousands　of　men；　five　years　before　this　history　begins；　to　the　support　of　the　first　Chouannerie。　The　brothers　Cottereau；　whose　name　was　given　to　that　first　uprising；　were　bold　smugglers；　plying　their　perilous　trade　between　Laval　and　Fougeres。　The　insurrections　of　Brittany　had　nothing　fine　or　noble　about　them；　and　it　may　be　truly　said　that　if　La　Vendee　turned　its　brigandage　into　a　great　war；　Brittany　turned　war　into　a　brigandage。　The　proscription　of　princes；　the　destruction　of　religion；　far　from　inspiring　great　sacrifices；　were　to　the　Chouans　pretexts　for　mere　pillage；　and　the　events　of　this　intestine　warfare　had　all　the　savage　moroseness　of　their　own　natures。　When　the　real　defenders　of　the　monarchy　came　to　recruit　men　among　these　ignorant　and　violent　people　they　vainly　tried　to　give；　for　the　honor　of　the　white　flag；　some　grandeur　to　the　enterprises　which　had　hitherto　rendered　the　brigands　odious；　the　Chouans　remain　in　history　as　a　memorable　example　of　the　danger　of　uprousing　the　uncivilized　masses　of　the　nation。

The　sketch　here　made　of　a　Breton　valley　and　of　the　Breton　men　in　the　detachment　of　recruits；　more　especially　that　of　the　〃gars〃　who　so　suddenly　appeared　on　the　summit　of　Mont　Pelerine；　gives　a　brief　but　faithful　picture　of　the　province　and　its　inhabitants。　A　trained　imagination　can　by　the　help　of　these　details　obtain　some　idea　of　the　theatre　of　the　war　and　of　the　men　who　were　its　instruments。　The　flowering　hedges　of　the　beautiful　valleys　concealed　the　combatants。　Each　field　was　a　fortress；　every　tree　an　ambush；　the　hollow　trunk　of　each　old　willow　hid　a　stratagem。　The　place　for　a　fight　was　everywhere。　Sharpshooters　were　lurking　at　every　turn　for　the　Blues；　whom　laughing　young　girls；　unmindful　of　their　perfidy；　attracted　within　range；for　had　they　not　made　pilgrimages　with　their　fathers　and　their　brothers；　imploring　to　be　taught　wiles；　and　receiving　absolution　from　their　wayside　Virgin　of　rotten　wood？　Religion；　or　rather　the　fetichism　of　these　ignorant　creatures；　absolved　such　murders　of　remorse。

Thus；　when　the　struggle　had　once　begun；　every　part　of　the　country　was　dangerous；in　fact；　all　things　were　full　of　peril；　sound　as　well　as　silence；　attraction　as　well　as　fear；　the　family　hearth　or　the　open　country。　Treachery　was　everywhere；　but　it　was　treachery　from　conviction。　The　people　were　savages　serving　God　and　the　King　after　the　fashion　of　Red　Indians。　To　make　this　sketch　of　the　struggle　exact　and　true　at　all　points；　the　historian　must　add　that　the　moment　Hoche　had　signed　his　peace　the　whole　country　subsided　into　smiles　and　friendliness。　Families　who　were　rending　each　other　to　pieces　over　night；　were　supping　together　without　danger　the　next　day。

The　very　moment　that　Commandant　Hulot　became　aware　of　the　secret　treachery　betrayed　by　the　hairy　skins　of　Marche…a…Terre；　he　was　convinced　that　this　peace；　due　to　the　genius　of　Hoche；　the　stability　of　which　he　had　always　doubted；　was　at　an　end。　The　civil　war；　he　felt；　was　about　to　be　renewed；doubtless　more　terrible　than　ever　after　a　cessation　of　three　years。　The　Revolution；　mitigated　by　the　events　of　the　9th　Thermidor；　would　doubtless　return　to　the　old　terrors　which　had　made　it　odious　to　sound　minds。　English　gold　would；　as　formerly；　assist　in　the　national　discords。　The　Republic；　abandoned　by　young　Bonaparte　who　had　seemed　to　be　its　tutelary　genius；　was　no　longer　in　a　condition　to　resist　its　enemies　from　without　and　from　within；the　worst　and　most　cruel　of　whom　were　the　last　to　appear。　The　Civil　War；　already　threatened　by　various　partial　uprisings；　would　assume　a　new　and　far　more　serious　aspect　if　the　Chouans　were　now　to　attack　so　strong　an　escort。　Such　were　the　reflections　that　filled　the　mind　of　the　commander　（though　less　succinctly　formulated）　as　soon　as　he　perceived；　in　the　condition　of　Marche…a…Terre's　clothing；　the　signs　of　an　ambush　carefully　planned。

The　silence　which　followed　the　prophetic　remark　of　the　commandant　to　Gerard　gave　Hulot　time　to　recover　his　self…possession。　The　old　soldier　had　been　shaken。　He　could　not　hinder　his　brow　from　clouding　as　he　felt　himself　surrounded　by　the　horrors　of　a　warfare　the　atrocities　of　which　would　have　shamed　even　cannibals。　Captain　Merle　and　the　adjutant　Gerard　could　not　explain　to　themselves　the　evident　dread　on　the　face　of　their　leader　as　he　looked　at　Marche…a…Terre　eating　his　bread　by　the　side　of　the　road。　But　Hulot's　face　soon　cleared；　he　began　to　rejoice　in　the　opportunity　to　fight　for　the　Republic；　and　he　joyously　vowed　to　escape　being　the　dupe　of　the　Chouans；　and　to　fathom　the　wily　and　impenetrable　being　whom　they　had　done　him　the　honor　to　employ　against　him。

Before　taking　any　resolution　he　set　himself　to　study　the　position　in　which　it　was　evident　the　enemy　intended　to　surprise　him。　Observing　that　the　road　where　the　column　had　halted　was　about　to　pass　through　a　sort　of　gorge；　short　to　be　sure；　but　flanked　with　woods　from　which　several　paths　appeared　to　issue；　he　frowned　heavily；　and　said　to　his　two　friends；　in　a　low　voice　of　some　emotion：

〃We're　in　a　devil　of　a　wasp's…nest。〃

〃What　do　you　fear？〃　asked　Gerard。

〃Fear？　Yes；　that's　it；　/fear/；〃　returned　the　commandant。　〃I　have　always　had　a　fear　of　being　shot　like　a　dog　at　the　edge　of　a　wood；　without　a　chance　of　crying　out　'Who　goes　there？'〃

〃Pooh！〃　said　Merle；　laughing；　〃'Who　goes　there'　is　all　humbug。〃

〃Are　we　in　any　real　danger？〃　asked　Gerard；　as　much　surprised　by　Hulot's　coolness　as　he　was　by　his　evident　alarm。

〃Hush！〃　said　the　commandant；　in　a　low　voice。　〃We　are　in　the　jaws　of　the　wolf；　it　is　as　dark　as　a　pocket；　and　we　must　get　some　light。　Luckily；　we've　got　the　upper　end　of　the　slope！〃

So　saying；　he　moved；　with　his　two　officers；　in　a　way　to　surround　Marche…a…Terre；　who　rose　quickly；　pretending　to　think　himself　in　the　way。

〃Stay　where　you　are；　vagabond！〃　said　Hulot；　keeping　his　eye　on　the　apparently　indifferent　face　of　the　Breton；　and　giving　him　a　push　which　threw　him　back　on　the　place　where　he　had　been　sitting。

〃Friends；〃　continued　Hulot；　in　a　low　voice；　speaking　to　the　two　officers。　〃It　is　time