TOMB OF BÉRANGÈRE--WIVES OF COEUR DE LION--TOMBS--ABBEY
CHURCHES--CHÂTEAU OF LE MANS--DE CRAON--THE SPECTRE OF LE MANS--THE
VENDÉEANS--MADAME DE LA ROCHE-JAQUELIN--A WOMAN'S PERILS--DISASTERS
OF THE VENDÉEANS--HENRI--CHOUANS.
HOWEVER interesting the exterior of the Cathedral of St. Julien may be,
the interior entirely corresponds with it. The windows of painted glass
are of the very first order, and of surpassing beauty, nearly entire,
and attributed to Cimabue. The double range in the choir, seen through
the _grille_, or from the exterior aisle--for there are two on each
side--present a magnificent _coup d'oeil_. The architecture is of
different periods; specimens may be observed belonging to the 12th
century and reaching to the 17th; but some of the finest is that of the
Norman era; the zigzags of the portals, and the billets, rose
mouldings, &c., being of peculiar delicacy and boldness. There is a
great deal of ornament composed of those extravagant forms of animals
which, at a distance, are confounded with the foliage to which they are
attached, but which, viewed nearly, are mysteriously extraordinary. The
circular arch reigns throughout, but many in _ogive_ also occur in
different parts. The arcades and galleries of the choir are of the
utmost delicacy and elegance of form; but the chief attraction is the
tomb of the widow of Richard Coeur de Lion, placed in one of the wings
of the cross. The Lady Chapel is undergoing repair, and is being
restored in the very best style. The new screen is beautiful, and the
figures of the Virgin and Child in very good taste, as are all the
ornaments, which exactly follow the fine originals. The exterior repairs
are carried on with equal skill; and this precious monument will soon be
in perfect order.
As I looked at the pure, dignified, and commanding outline of the face
of Bérangère, she appeared to me to have been a fitting wife for the
hero whose effigy had inspired me with so much admiration when I visited
it a few years since, at Fontevraud. Her nose is slightly aquiline, her
upper lip short and gracefully curved, her chin beautifully rounded, as
are her cheeks; her eyebrows are clearly marked, and her eye full though
not large; but, even in stone, it has a tender, soft expression,
extremely pleasing, and there is a sadness about the mouth which answers
well to the tenderness of the eye. The forehead is of just proportion,
and shaded by a frill which passes across, over which an ample veil is
drawn: the whole confined by a diadem, the only part of the statue
rather indistinct. Round her fine majestic throat is a band, to which a
large ornament is attached, which rests on her chest; her head reclines
on an embroidered pillow; her drapery falls over her figure and round
her clasped hands in graceful folds, and the dog and lion at her feet
complete the whole of this charming statue, which is of workmanship
equal to that of the exquisite _four_ in the little vault at
Fontevraud.[2]
Bérangère was daughter of Sancho VI., king of Navarre--not, as some
historians say, a princess of Castile or Arragon. After Richard's death,
Philip-Augustus confirmed to her the dominion of Maine, in exchange for
part of Normandy, which had been settled on her as her dower. She lived
for more than twenty years in the town of Le Mans, where her memory was
long preserved as _La Bonne Reine Bérangère_. She founded the monastery
of Epau, near Le Mans, where the mausoleum was erected which now adorns
the Cathedral of St. Julien.
[Footnote 2: See a description of the statues of Coeur de Lion, Henry
and Elionor, and Isabella of Angoulême, in "A Summer amongst the Bocages
and the Vines."]
Two houses are pointed out in the Grande Rue, said to have formed part
of her palace; and the singularity of the ornaments which can be traced
amidst their architecture, makes it probable that the tradition is not
incorrect.
The abbey of Epau formerly stood about half a league from Le Mans, on
the banks of the river Huisne, in the midst of a fertile plain; the
widow of Richard founded it, in 1230, for Bernardins of the order of
Citeaux.
The inhabitants of Le Mans destroyed the monastery, after the battle of
Poitiers, in 1365, fearing that the English would take possession of it
and render it a place of defence; and it was reconstructed early in the
fifteenth century. The church alone remains, which, after the
Revolution, was desecrated, as has been related, and the tomb of the
foundress treated so unceremoniously.
There seems a question, which has not yet been fully resolved, as to the
identity of the wives of Richard; by some authors a certain Rothilde,
otherwise called Bérangère of Arragon, is described as his queen; who,
"owing to some misunderstanding, caused a part of the city of Limoges to
be destroyed, and salt strewn amongst the ruins; three days after which
she died, and was buried under the belfry of the abbey of St. Augustine,
in 1189 or 1190. Her mausoleum and statue were afterwards placed
there."
This could scarcely be _our_ Bérangère of Navarre, since mention is made
of her in public acts as late as 1234. In the annals of Aquitaine, by
Bouchet, it is set forth, that, "in 1160, Henry, Duke of Aquitaine, and
Raimond, Count of Barcelona, being at Blaye, on the Gironde, made and
swore an alliance, by which Richard, surnamed Coeur de Lion, second son
of the said Henry, was to marry the daughter of the said Raimond, when
she should be old enough, and Henry promised to give, on the occasion of
the said marriage, the duchy of Aquitaine to his son. This Raimond was
rich and powerful, being Count of Barcelona in his own right, and King
of Arragon in right of his wife." The Princess Alix of France--about
whose detention from him, Richard afterwards quarrelled with his
father--never became his wife; but whether it is she who is meant by the
queen buried at Limoges, in 1190, does not appear.
That he married Bérangère in 1191, in the island of Cyprus, seems an
ascertained fact; and that she died at Le Mans appears also certain; but
whether Richard really had two wedded wives it is difficult to
determine.
On the Monday of Pentecost, the Abbey of Epau was for centuries the
scene of a grand festival, in honour of the patron saint, and the
ceremony was continued, to a late period, of passing the day there in
gaiety and amusement. All the families of the neighbourhood sought the
spot on foot, and every kind of country entertainment was resorted to.
Although the object is now changed, an expedition to the remains of the
Abbey of Epau is still a favourite one with the inhabitants of Le Mans;
it is a kind of _Longchamps_, where all the fashion and gaiety of the
town is displayed.
The only tombs, besides that of Bérangère, remaining in the cathedral of
Le Mans, are those in white marble, of Charles of Anjou, Count of Maine
and King of Jerusalem and Sicily, who died in 1472. Opposite this, is a
finely-sculptured tomb, worthy of the school of Jean Goujon, of Langey
du Bellay; the carving of the fruits and flowers which adorn it is
attributed to Germain Pilon. There is some good carving, also, in a
neighbouring chapel, by Labarre, done in 1610; but little else of this
kind remarkable in the church; all the other tombs of countesses, dukes,
and princes, having long since disappeared. However, Bérangère, perhaps,
appears to the greater advantage, reigning, as she does, in solitary
grandeur in this magnificent retreat.
The abbey churches of La Couture and Du Pré, are fine specimens of early
architecture. In the chapel of the former, an inscription was once to be
found on the walls, to the memory of a certain innkeeper and postilion,
who, wishing that his name should be handed down to posterity, had set
forth the fact of his having conducted the carriages of four kings of
France, and after passing sixty-four years as a married man, died in
1509: he adds a prayer to this important record, that Heaven would
provide a second husband for his widow, whose age appears to have
reached not less than _sixteen lustres_. The subterranean church of La
Couture is very remarkable, and is, no doubt, of Roman construction; the
capitals of the pillars are extremely curious, and its height and
dryness are peculiar. The famous warrior, Hélie de la Flèche, so often
named in the wars of the eleventh century, was here buried; and here, it
is said, was deposited the body of the blessed St. Bertrand. It is a
very grand and interesting church in all its parts, and preserves some
curious memorials of Roman and early Norman architecture.
The abbey church of Du Pré is equally curious, and its circular arches,
strange capitals, niches and ornaments, prove its extraordinary
antiquity.
There are a great many houses still existing in the oldest part of Le
Mans which retain part of their original sculpture, and are of great
antiquity, though it is not likely that they reach so far back as the
time of Bérangère, or La Reine Blanche, as she is traditionally
called--a designation always given to the widowed queens of France.
The house in the Grande Rue--one of the most dilapidated streets in the
town--said to have formed part of her palace, is now divided into two
poulterers' shops; and when we visited it, the chamber called that of
the widow of Coeur de Lion, was occupied by seven women, not employed in
weaving tapestry or stringing pearls, but in plucking fowls. The
chimney-piece is curious, adorned with two fine medallions of male
heads, in high relief, very boldly executed. The outside of the house
has some curious carving of eagles with expanded wings, strange
monkey-shaped figures, lions _couchant_, crosslets and scrolls; but the
façade is so much destroyed, that it is difficult to connect any of
these ornaments. The crosslets were the arms of Jerusalem, of which the
counts of Anjou called themselves kings; but to what period all these
sculptures belong it is difficult to say.
The Grande Rue is full of these remains; in the Rue des Chanoines, some
circular-arched windows, ornamented with roses, stars, and _toothed_
carving, indicate that here once stood the church founded by St. Aldric,
in the ninth century; and some pieces of wall and brick still prove its
original Roman construction.
In the Place St. Michel, a stone house of ancient date is shown as
having been inhabited by Scarron; and in almost every street of the old
town, some curious bits, worthy of an artist's attention, may be found;
but the search after them is somewhat fatiguing, and involves a visit to
not the most agreeable part of the pretty city: all of which is
interesting, whether new or old.
Of the once famous Château of Le Mans, erected long before the time of
William the Conqueror, who destroyed it in part, nothing now remains but
the Pans de Gorron, and a few _tourelles_. Yet it was, in the turbulent
times when such fortresses were required, a place of enormous strength;
and its two forts, one called Mont Barbet, and one Motte Barbet, defied
many an attack.
It appears that the Manceaux were impatient of the yoke of the
_conquering hero_, who endeavoured to make all the territory his own
which approached his domains; and three times they gave him the trouble
of besieging their town; he, at length, having raised fortifications
sufficient to intimidate them, placed in command in the château a
female, whose warlike attainments had rendered her famous even in those
days of prowess. She was an English woman by birth, the widow of a
Norman knight, and called Orbrindelle. The fort in which she took up her
head quarters, and from whence she sent forth the terror of her power,
was called after her; but, by corruption, was afterwards named
Ribaudelle.
This castle was destroyed by royal order in 1617, and at its demolition
several Roman monuments and inscriptions were found on the walls and
beneath the foundations.
King John of France was born in the Château of Le Mans, and several
monarchs made it their temporary abode. The Black Prince sojourned
within its walls till Duguesclin, the great captain, disturbed his
repose. The unfortunate Charles VI., whom fate persecuted to the ruin of
France, was at Le Mans when that fearful event occurred to him, which
decided his future destiny. From the alleys of a great forest, now no
longer existing, issued forth that mysterious vision which no sage has
yet entirely explained. It is impossible to be at Le Mans, without
recollecting the curious story connected with the poor young king,
though the town is too light and cheerful-looking at the present day, to
allow of its being a fitting scene either for so gloomy a legend, or for
the sad events which modern days brought forth within its precincts.
The circumstances which caused the madness of the son of Charles the
Wise, may not, perhaps, be immediately present to the reader's mind:
they were as follows:--
Pierre de Craon, lord of Sablé and Ferté Bernard, an intriguing man, who
held a high place in the consideration of Mary of Brittany, the regent
of Anjou and Maine in the absence of her husband, who was prosecuting
his designs against Naples and Sicily, had proved himself a faithless
treasurer of large sums of money confided to him by his mistress; which
sums had been wrung from the two provinces of Maine and Anjou. De Craon
had dissipated this money in extravagance, instead of supplying the
army of Prince Louis, who died in consequence of disappointed hope and
his unsuccessful struggles. The traitor made his appearance in Paris
without fear; for he was protected by the powerful duke of Orleans,
brother of the king.
Shortly afterwards, however, having had a dispute with the Constable,
Olivier de Clisson, he laid wait for him, accompanied by a set of
wretches in his pay, and fell upon the great captain unawares, wounding
him in the head, and leaving him for dead. After this cowardly exploit,
De Craon fled, and threw himself under the protection of the Duke of
Brittany, who, although not his accomplice, was weak enough to take his
part.
Pierre de Craon was condemned for contumacy; several of his people were
punished with death, in particular a poor curate of Chartres, who was
entirely innocent: his dwelling was razed to the ground, and its site
given to a neighbouring church for a cemetery: and the Duke of Brittany
was summoned by King Charles to deliver up the craven knight to justice.
This command, however, was treated with contempt, and the king
accordingly put himself at the head of his troops, and set forth to
attack the duke: it was at Le Mans that he arrived with his army.
Charles was greatly excited, and his nerves appear to have been agitated
at this time, owing to various causes. The weather was intensely hot,
and the sun struck full upon him as he rode in advance of his army,
surrounded by his guard of honour. He entered the Forest of Le Mans, and
was proceeding down one of its glades, when suddenly a gigantic black
figure, wild, haggard, and with hair floating in dishevelled masses over
his face, darted suddenly from a deep recess, and, seizing the bridle of
the king's horse, cried out, in a sepulchral voice, "Hold,
king!--whither ride you?--go no further!--you are betrayed!" and
instantly disappeared amidst the gloomy shades of the wood, before any
one had time to lay hands on him.
Charles did not turn back, but continued his way in silence; he emerged
from the forest on to a wide sandy plain, where the heat was almost
intolerable, and where there was nothing to shelter him from the burning
rays. A page was riding near him, who, overcome with fatigue, slept in
his saddle, and let the lance he held fall violently on the helmet of
one of his companions. The sharp sound this occasioned roused the king
from his gloomy reverie: he started in sudden terror; his brain was
confused and heated; he imagined that the accomplishment of the
spectre's denunciation was at hand, and, losing his senses altogether,
he drew his sword, and, with a wild cry, rushed forward, hewing down all
before him, and galloping distractedly across the plain, till,
exhausted by fatigue and excitement, he fell from his horse in a swoon.
He was instantly surrounded by his people, raised from the ground, and
conveyed with all care to Le Mans, where he remained till he was thought
sufficiently recovered to be removed to Paris.
The storm about to fall on the head of the Duke of Brittany was thus
turned aside, and the troops who had received orders to attack him were
withdrawn. Whether this was a scene got up by the Duke of Brittany, in
order to work on the diseased mind of the unfortunate monarch, or was
merely the effect of an accidental meeting with a maniac, or whether the
king's uncles, who disapproved of his just indignation at De Craon's
conduct, had arranged the whole, it is impossible to say: but poor
Charles was surrounded by traitors, foreign and domestic, and evidently
had no good physician at hand, whose timely skill might have saved years
of misery and bloodshed to France.
Throughout the deadly wars of the League, and the contentions between
Catholic and Protestant, which desolated France, Le Mans and the whole
of the department of Maine took a prominent part, and its streets,
houses, churches, and villages were burnt and destroyed over and over
again. The last stand of the unfortunate Vendéeans was at Le Mans. "Sad
and fearful is the story" of the fight there, as it is told by Madame
de la Roche-Jaquelin, whose pictures draw tears from every eye, and
whose narrative, read at Le Mans, is melancholy indeed.
After dreadful fatigues and varying fortune, during which the devoted
town was taken and retaken several times, the harassed Vendéeans, more
remarkable for their valour than their prudence, remained in possession
of the town on the night of the 10th of December, 1793, and gave
themselves up to the repose which they so much needed, but without
arranging any means of security, though a vigilant enemy was on the
watch to take advantage of their state. They abandoned themselves, with
characteristic superstition, to the care of Heaven alone; placing no
sentinels, no out-posts, no guard whatever: and, although the next day
the chiefs visited the town and its issues, no precaution was taken
against the possibility of an attack,--no measures to secure a retreat,
nor council held as to whither their course should be directed in case
of such a necessity. The time was consumed in disputes, as to whether
the wearied Vendéean army should pursue its transient success, and go on
to Paris, or yield to the desire of the generality of the soldiers, and
return to their beloved home, by crossing the Loire, which so many
regretted ever to have passed. It appears that there were from sixty to
seventy thousand persons in Le Mans, of the royalist party; including
women, children, and servants, with baggage and money to a large amount.
The republican army, commanded by Marceau and Westermann, surprised the
town at night. In spite of the active bravery of La Roche-Jaquelin, and
the energy he displayed when the danger was so apparent, a fearful
slaughter ensued. Street by street, and square by square, the Vendéeans
disputed every inch of ground, till the corpses of the slain lay in
heaps in the narrow ways; every house was a fortress,--every lane a pass
desperately defended. The intrepid young leader had two horses killed
under him, and was obliged to absent himself a moment to seek for
others. No sooner did his people lose sight of him than a panic took
possession of them; they thought all lost,--became confused and
disordered. Many of them, waked from sleep, or from a state of
inebriety, in which the Britons are too apt to indulge, horrified at the
shrieks of their women, stunned by the sound of the cannon, which roared
through the dark streets, and startled at the glare of artillery
suddenly blazing around them,--entirely lost all presence of mind, and
fled in every direction; killing and wounding friends and foes in their
precipitous retreat. Horses, waggons, and dead bodies impeded their
flight, and Le Mans was one scene of carnage and terror. Their leaders
stood their ground, and kept the great square of Le Mans for more than
four hours, performing prodigies of valour. But the republicans at last
were victors: and horribly did they pursue their advantage; sparing
neither age nor sex, and exulting in the most atrocious cruelties. The
peasants of Le Mans and its environs, taking part with the stronger
side, pursued the vanquished with disgraceful energy, and murdered the
unfortunate Vendéeans in the woods and fields, and in every retreat
where those devoted people sought shelter and safety.
The state of the unfortunate women, whose husbands, sons, and fathers
were being slaughtered with every volley which rung in their ears, is
horrible to imagine. Madame de la Roche-Jaquelin thus describes her own
position in moving language:
"From the beginning, we foresaw the result of the struggle. I was lodged
at the house of a lady who was very rich, very refined, but a great
republican. She had a large family, whom she tenderly loved, and whom
she carefully attended. I resolved to confide my daughter to her, as one
of her relations had already taken charge of little Jagault. I entreated
her to protect her,--to bring her up as a mere peasant only,--to instil
into her mind sentiments of honour and virtue. I said that, should she
be destined to resume the position in which she was born, I should
thank Heaven for its mercy; but I resigned myself to all, provided she
was virtuously brought up. She assured me that, if she took my child,
she would educate her with her own. I used all the arguments a mother
could in such circumstances, and was interrupted by the cry that
announced retreat. She quitted me instantly; and I, losing at once all
hope, but trusting at least to save my daughter's life, placed her
secretly in the bed of the mistress of the family, certain that she
could not have the cruelty to abandon the innocent little creature. I
then descended the stairs: I was placed on horseback; the gate was
opened; I saw the square filled with a flying, pressing crowd, and in an
instant I was separated from every one I knew. I perceived M. Stofflet,
who was carrying the colours: I took advantage of his presence to try to
find the road; I followed him across the square, which I supposed was
the way; I kept close to the houses; and at length reached the street
which led in the direction I sought, towards the road of Laval. But I
found it impossible to advance; the concourse was too great,--it was
stifling: carts, waggons, cannon, were overturned; bullocks lay
struggling on the ground, unable to rise, and striking out at all who
approached them. The cries of persons trodden underfoot echoed
everywhere. I was fainting with hunger and terror: I could scarcely see;
for daylight was nearly closed. At the corner of a street I perceived
two horses tied to a stake, and they completely barred my passage; the
crowd pressed them against me; and I was squeezed between them and the
wall: I screamed to the soldiers to take and ride off with them; but my
voice was not heard or attended to. A young man on horseback passed by
me, with a mild and sad countenance: I cried out to him, catching his
hand, 'Oh! sir, have pity on a poor woman, near her confinement, and
perishing with want and fatigue: I can go no further.' The stranger
burst into tears, and replied: 'I am a woman, too: we shall perish
together; for nothing can penetrate into yonder street.' We both
remained expecting our fate.
"In the meantime, the faithful Bontemps, servant of M. de Lescure, not
seeing my daughter, sought for her everywhere,--found her at length, and
carried her off in his arms. He followed me, perceived me in the crowd,
and called out, 'I have saved my master's child!' I hung down my head,
and resigned myself to the worst. In a moment after I saw another of my
servants: I called to him; he caught my horse by the bridle; and,
cutting his way with his sabre, we entered the street. With incredible
trouble, we reached a little bridge in the faubourg, on the road to
Laval: a cannon was overturned upon it, and stopped up the way: at
length we got by, and I found myself in the road; where I paused, with
many others. Some officers were there, trying to rally their soldiers;
but all their efforts were useless.
"The republicans, hearing a noise where we were, turned their cannon
upon us from the height of the houses. A bullet whizzed past my head: a
moment afterwards a fresh discharge startled me; and, involuntarily, I
bent myself low upon my horse. An officer near reproached me bitterly
for my cowardice. 'Alas!' replied I, 'it is excusable in a wretched
woman to crouch down when a whole army has taken to flight!' In fact,
the firing continued so violently that all of our people who had paused
recommenced flying for their lives. Had it been daylight, perhaps they
might have been recalled.
"A few leagues from Le Mans, I beheld the arrival of my father. He and
Henri had been for a long time vainly endeavouring to reanimate the
soldiers. Henri hurried towards me, exclaiming, 'You are saved!'--'I
thought you were lost," cried I, 'since we are beaten.' He wrung my
hand, saying, 'I would I were dead!'
"About twelve leagues from Le Mans, I stopped in a village: a great part
of the army had also halted there. There was scarcely any one in the
cottages: the road was covered with poor wretches, who, fainting with
fatigue, were sleeping in the mud, without heeding the pelting rain. The
rout of Le Mans cost the lives of fifteen thousand persons. The greatest
part were not killed in the battle; many were crushed to death in the
streets of Le Mans; others, wounded and sick, remained in the houses,
and were massacred. They died in the ditches and the fields: a great
number fled on the road to Alençon, were there taken, and conducted to
the scaffold.
* * * * *
"Such was the deplorable defeat of Le Mans, where the Vendéean army
received a mortal blow: it was an inevitable fatality. The day that they
quitted the left bank of the Loire, with a nation of women, children,
and old people, to seek an asylum in a country unknown, without being
aware what route they should take, at the beginning of winter, it was
easy to foretell that we should conclude by this terrible catastrophe.
The greatest glory that our generals and soldiers can claim is that they
retarded its accomplishment so long.
"The unfortunate and intrepid Henri did not abandon his cause till not a
hope was left; and even at the last he lingered at Le Mans, and fought
desperately in the Place de l'Eperon, establishing a battery of cannon
which long kept the enemy at bay. But all was unavailing, and he yielded
to necessity. He arrived at Laval at the close of day, spent and
exhausted, and entered a house where he entreated to be allowed to rest.
He was warned that he might run the risk of being surprised by
Westermann,--'My greatest want,' said he, 'is not to live, but to
sleep.'"
The Vendéeans had left behind them so much gold and merchandize, so much
furniture, and such precious possessions, that, far from these sad
events being a cause of ruin to the inhabitants of Le Mans, they were
the means of establishing prosperity in the town in many instances, and
its commercial influence increased very sensibly from that period. It is
at this moment a town which appears in a very flourishing state, and is
on the whole one of the most agreeable and interesting in this part of
France.
The misfortunes and troubles which the ill-fated army of royalists
experienced, did not prevent their renewal a few years after, when the
sad events of the wars of the Chouans brought back all the miseries
which the desolated country was but little able to contend with.
However high-sounding the supposed motives might be which re-illumed the
war, it is now generally acknowledged that only a few enthusiastic men
acted from a sense of honour and patriotism: the greatest part being
influenced by less worthy ideas. Had it not been so, the excesses
committed by the Chouans would never have disgraced the annals of
warfare: wretches without religion, morality, or feeling, mere brigands
and marauders, under the sacred banner of patriotism, ravaged the
country, burning, torturing, and destroying, pillaging, and committing
every crime, dignified meantime by the appellation of heroes, which one
or two amongst them might have deserved if they had fought in better
company, and been better directed. It is strange that any one,
particularly at the present day, can be found to magnify into heroism
the misguided efforts of a set of turbulent school-boys, who, again, at
a later period, were made the tools of villains for their own purposes
of plunder; yet, very recently, works have appeared in which the _petite
Chouannerie_ is exalted into a praiseworthy community. Pity for the
sacrificed children who were betrayed, and the bereaved mothers who wept
over the disobedience of their sons, is all that belongs to those
concerned in the useless revolt which caused ruin to so many.
"The intention of the Chouans in taking arms," says M. de Scépeaux, in
his letters on the Chouans of Bas-Maine, "was to _defend and preserve_,
not _to attack and destroy_; and, like the soldiers of Pelayo, who kept
the rocks of Asturias as a last stronghold against their besiegers, the
Chouans made their Bocages a last asylum for the French monarchy." This
is a fine _phrase_, but the facts are very far removed from this
assertion. The Chouans were a terror and a scourge to their
fellow-citizens: farms burnt, unoffending citizens robbed and murdered,
all their possessions seized on and appropriated, stabbing in the dark,
and cowardly cruelties of all kinds characterized these "honourable
men," who were _guerillas_ and nothing more. They took names such as in
former times distinguished the bands of brigands who were the terror of
the middle ages, and their acts rendered the similitude more striking.
Some of these chiefs signed themselves, Joli-coeur, Sans-peur,
Monte-à-l'assaut, Bataillon, &c.
It was a fearful time, and violence and cruelty reigned triumphant
whichever party took the field. The province of Le Maine suffered
severely in the struggle. Le Mans was again the scene of contention, and
the streets of the town the theatre of slaughter.
Who, to look at the quiet, tranquil town now, would think how much it
has suffered! and who but must feel indignant at the pretended patriot
who is not grateful to the existing government, under whose wise sway
the cities of France are recovering their beauty and importance after
long years of torture and desolation!