IN BRETAGNE.
Our readers must now permit us to look backward, for we have (in
following the principal persons of our history) neglected some others in
Bretagne, who deserve some notice; besides, if we do not represent them
as taking an active part in this tale, history is ready with her
inflexible voice to contradict us; we must, therefore, for the present,
submit to the exigencies of history.
Bretagne had, from the first, taken an active part in the movement of
the legitimated bastards; this province, which had given pledges of
fidelity to monarchical principles, and pushed them to exaggeration, if
not to madness, since it preferred the adulterous offspring of a king to
the interests of a kingdom, and since its love became a crime by calling
in aid of the pretensions of those whom it recognized as its princes,
enemies against whom Louis XIV. for sixty years, and France for two
centuries had waged a war of extermination.
We have seen the list of the principal names which constituted this
revolt; the regent had wittily said that it contained the head and
tail; but he was mistaken--it was the head and body. The head was the
council of the legitimated princes, the king of Spain, and his imbecile
agent, the prince of Cellamare; the body was formed by those brave and
clever men who were now in the Bastille; but the tail was now agitating
in Bretagne among a people unaccustomed to the ways of a court, and it
was a tail armed with stings like those of a scorpion, and which was the
most to be feared.
The Bretagne chiefs, then, renewed the Chevalier de Rohan, under Louis
XIV.; we say the Chevalier de Rohan, because to every conspiracy must be
given the name of a chief.
Along with the prince, who was a conceited and commonplace man, and even
before him, were two men, stronger than he; one in thought and the other
in execution. These two men were Letreaumont, a Norman gentleman, and
Affinius Vanden-Enden, a Dutch philosopher; Letreaumont wanted money, he
was the arm; Affinius wanted a republic, he was the soul. This republic,
moreover, he wanted inclosed in Louis XIV.'s kingdom, still further to
annoy the great king--who hated republicans even at a distance--who had
persecuted and destroyed the Pensioner of Holland, John de Witt, more
cruel in this than the Prince of Orange, who, in declaring himself De
Witt's enemy, revenged personal injuries, while Louis XIV. had received
nothing but friendship and devotion from this great man.
Now Affinius wanted a republic in Normandy, and got the Chevalier de
Rohan named Protector; the Bretons wished to revenge themselves for
certain injuries their province had received under the regency, and they
decreed it a republic, with the power of choosing a protector, even were
he a Spaniard; but Monsieur de Maine had a good chance.
This is what passed in Bretagne.
The Bretons lent an ear to the first overtures of the Spaniards; they
had no more cause for discontent than other provinces, but to them it
seemed a capital opportunity for war, and they had no other aim.
Richelieu had ruled them severely; they thought to emancipate
themselves under Dubois, and they began by objecting to the
administrators sent by the regent; a revolution always commences by a
riot.
Montesquieu was appointed viceroy to hold assemblies, to hear the
people's complaints, and to collect their money. The people complained
plentifully, but would not pay, because they did not like the steward;
this appeared a bad reason to Montesquieu, who was a man of the old
regime.
"You cannot offer these complaints to his majesty," said he, "without
appearing to rebel: pay first, and complain afterward; the king will
listen to your sorrows, but not to your antipathies to a man honored by
his choice."
Monsieur de Montaran, of whom the Bretons complained, gave no offense;
but, in being intendant of the province, any other would have been as
much disliked, and they persisted in their refusal to pay.
"Monsieur le Marechal," said their deputies, "your language might suit a
general treating with a conquered place, but cannot be accepted by free
and privileged men. We are neither enemies nor soldiers--we are citizens
and masters at home. In compensation of a service which we ask,
namely--that Monsieur de Montaran, whom we dislike, should be removed,
we will pay the tax demanded; but if the court takes to itself the
highest prize, we will keep our money, and bear as we best can the
treasurer who displeases us."
Monsieur de Montesquieu, with a contemptuous smile, turned on his
heel--the deputies did the same, and both retired with their original
dignity.
But the marshal was willing to wait; he behaved himself as an able
diplomatist, and thought that private reunions would set all right; but
the Breton nobles were proud--indignant at their treatment, they
appeared no more at the marshal's reception; and he, from contempt,
changed to angry and foolish resolves. This was what the Spaniards had
expected. Montesquieu, corresponding with the authorities at Nantes,
Quimper, Vannes, and Rennes, wrote that he had to deal with rebels and
mutineers, but that ten thousand of his soldiers should teach the
Bretons politeness.
The states were held again; from the nobility to the people in Bretagne
is but a step; a spark lights the whole; the citizens declared to M. de
Montesquieu that if he had ten thousand men, Bretagne had a hundred
thousand, who would teach his soldiers, with stones, forks and muskets,
that they had better mind their own business, and that only.
The marshal assured himself of the truth of this assertion, and was
quiet, leaving things as they were for a while; the nobility then made a
formal and moderate complaint; but Dubois and the council of the regency
treated it as a hostile manifesto, and used it as an instrument.
Montaran, Montesquieu, Pontcalec and Talhouet were the men really
fighting among themselves. Pontcalec, a man of mind and power, joined
the malcontents and encouraged the growth of the struggle.
There was no drawing back; the court, however, only saw the revolt, and
did not suspect the Spanish affair. The Bretons, who were secretly
undermining the regency, cried aloud, "No impost, no Montaran," to draw
away suspicion from their anti-patriotic plots--but the event turned out
against them. The regent--a skillful politician--guessed the plot
without perceiving it; he thought that this local veil hid some other
phantom, and he tore off the veil. He withdrew Montaran, and then the
conspirators were unmasked; all the others were content and quiet, they
alone remained in arms.
Then Pontcalec and his friends formed the plot we are acquainted with,
and used violent means to attain their ends.
Spain was watching; Alberoni, beaten by Dubois in the affair of
Cellamare, waited his revenge, and all the treasures prepared for the
plot of Paris were now sent to Bretagne; but it was late--he did not
believe it, and his agents deceived him; he thought it was possible to
recommence the war, but then France made war on Spain. He thought it
possible to kill the regent; but he, and not Chanlay, should do what no
one would then recommend to the most cruel enemy of France. Alberoni
reckoned on the arrival of a Spanish vessel full of arms and money, and
this ship did not arrive; he waited for news of Chanlay; it was La
Jonquiere who wrote--and what a La Jonquiere!
One evening Pontcalec and his friends had met in a little room near the
old castle; their countenances were sad and irresolute--Du Couedic
announced that he had received a note recommending them to take flight.
"I have a similar one to show you," said Montlouis; "it was slid under
my glass at table, and my wife, who expected nothing, was frightened."
"I neither expect nor fear anything," said Talhouet; "the province is
calm, the news from Paris is good; every day the regent liberates some
one of those imprisoned for the Spanish affair."
"And I, gentlemen," said Pontcalec, "must tell you of a strange
communication I have received to-day. Show me your note, Du Couedic, and
you yours, Montlouis; perhaps it is the same writing, and is a snare for
us."
"I do not think so, for if they wish us to leave this, it is to escape
some danger; we have nothing to fear for our reputation, for that is not
at stake. The affairs of Bretagne are known to the world: your brother,
Talhouet, and your cousin have fled to Spain: Solduc, Rohan, Sanbilly
the counselor, have all disappeared, yet their flight was supposed to be
natural, and from some simple cause of discontent. I confess, if the
advice be repeated, I shall fly."
"We have nothing to fear, my friends," said Pontcalec, "our affairs were
never more prosperous. See, the court has no suspicion, or we should
have been molested already. La Jonquiere wrote yesterday; he announces
that De Chanlay is starting for La Muette, where the regent lives as a
private gentleman, without guards, without fear."----"Yet you are
uneasy," said Du Couedic.
"I confess it, but not for the reason you suppose."
"What is it, then?"
"A personal matter."
"Of your own!"
"Yes, and I could not confide it to more devoted friends, or any who
know me better. If ever I were molested--if ever I had the alternative
of remaining or of flying to escape a danger, I should remain; do you
know why?"
"No, speak."
"I am afraid."
"You, Pontcalec?--afraid! What do you mean by these words, after those
you have just uttered?"
"Mon Dieu! yes, my friend; the ocean is our safeguard; we could find
safety on board one of those vessels which cruise on the Loire from
Paimboeuf to Saint Nazaire; but what is safety to you is certain death
to me."
"I do not understand you," said Talhouet.
"You alarm me," said Montlouis.
"Listen, then, my friends," said Pontcalec.
And he began, in the midst of the most scrupulous attention, the
following recital, for they knew that if Pontcalec were afraid there
must be a good cause.