At the instigation of Master Isnard, still implacable, for reason of
the inhospitable reception given to him by Raimond V., the consul,
Talebard-Talebardon, on Saturday evening despatched a clerk to
Maison-Forte des Anbiez, for the purpose of informing the baron that he
was to appear the next day, Sunday, before the overseers of the port.
Raimond V. made the trembling clerk sit down to the table and take
supper with him, but every time the man of the law opened his mouth to
ask the baron to appear before the tribunal, the old gentleman would cry
out, “Laramée, pour out some wine for my guest!”
Then he had the clerk taken back to La Ciotat somewhat intoxicated.
Interpreting the conduct of the baron according to their own view,
Master Isnard and the consul saw in his refusal to answer their summons
the most outrageous contempt.
The next day, which was Sunday, after the mass, at which,
notwithstanding his resolution the evening before, the baron did not
appear, the consuls and the recorder went through the houses of the
principal citizens, exciting public sentiment against Raimond V.,
who had so openly braved and insulted the privileges of Provençal
communities.
Much artifice, much deceit, and a great deal of persistence on the part
of Master Isnard were necessary to make the inhabitants of La Ciotat
share his hostility against the lord of Maison-Forte, because the
instinct of the multitude is always in sympathy with the rebellion of a
lord against a lord more powerful than himself; but on account of recent
disputes about fishing privileges, the recorder succeeded in arousing
the indignation of the multitude.
As we have said, it was Sunday morning; after mass the overseers of the
port held their sessions in the large town hall, situated near the new
harbour. It was a massive, heavy building, constructed of brick, and had
many small windows.
On each side rose the dwellings of the wealthiest citizens.
The site of the town hall was separated from the port by a narrow little
street.
A noisy crowd of citizens, fishermen, sailors, artisans, and country
people were pressing into the yard, and many had already seated
themselves at the door of the town hall, so as to be present at the
session of the overseers.
The citizens, instructed by the recorder, circulated in groups among the
multitude, and spread the news that Raimond V. despised the rights of
the people by refusing to appear before the overseers.
Master Talebard-Talebardon, one of the consuls, a large man, corpulent
and florid, with a shrewd, sly look, wearing his felt hood and official
robe, occupied with the recorder the centre of one of these animated
groups of which we have spoken, and which was composed of men of all
sorts and conditions.
“Yes, my friends,” said the consul, “Raimond V. treats Christians
as he treats the dogs he hunts with. The other day he threatened this
respectable Master Isnard whom you see here with his whip after having
exposed him to the fury of two of the fiercest bulls from Camargne;
it was a miracle that this worthy officer of the admiralty of Toulon
escaped the awful peril that threatened his life,” said the consul,
with an important air.
“A real miracle, for which I return thanks to Our Lady of la Garde,”
added the recorder, devoutly. “I never saw such furious bulls.”
“By St Elmo, my patron!” said a sailor, “I would gladly have given
my new scarf to have been a witness of that race. I have never seen
bull-fights except in Barcelona.”
“Without taking into account that recorder-toreadors are very rare,”
said another sailor.
Master Isnard, deeply wounded at inspiring so little interest, replied,
with a doleful air, “I assure you, my friends, that it is a terrible,
a formidable thing to be exposed to an attack from these ferocious
animals.”
“Since you have been pursued by bulls,” asked an honest tailor,
“do tell us, M. Recorder, if it is true that angry bulls have the tail
curled up, and that they shut their eyes when they strike?”
Master Talebard-Talebardon shrugged his shoulders, and replied, sternly,
to the inquirer:
“You think then, cut-cloth, that a person amuses himself by looking at
a bull’s tail and eyes, when he is charging on him?”
“That is true, that is true,” replied several assistants. “Certain
it is,” continued the consul, wishing to move the crowd to pity the
recorder, and irritate it against the baron, “certain it is that this
officer of justice and of the king narrowly escaped being a victim to
the diabolical wickedness of Raimond V.”
“Raimond V. destroyed two litters of wolves’ whelps that ravaged our
farm, to say nothing of the present he made us of the heads of the wolf
and the whelps, which are nailed to our door,” said a peasant, shaking
his head.
“Raimond V. is not a bad master. If the harvest fails, he comes to
your aid; he replaced two draught-oxen that I lost through witchcraft.”
“That is true, when one holds out a hand to the lord of Anbiez, he
never draws it back empty,” said an artisan.
“And at the time of the last descent of the pirates in this place, he
and his people bravely fought the miscreants; but for him, I, my wife,
and my daughter, would have been carried off by these demons,” said a
citizen.
“And the two sons of the good man Jacbuin were redeemed and brought
back from Barbary by good Father Elzear, the brother of Raimond V. But
for him they would still have been in chains galling enough to damn
their souls,” replied another.
“And the other brother, the commander, who looks as sombre as his
black galley,” said a patron of a merchant vessel, “did he not keep
those pagans in awe for more than two months while his galley lay soaked
in the gulf? Come, a good and noble family is that of Anbiez. After
all, this man of law is not one of us,” and pointed to the recorder.
“What does it matter to us if he is or is not run through by a
bull’s horn?”
“That is true, that is true; he is not one of us,” repeated several
voices.
“Raimond V. is a good old gentleman who never refuses a pound of
powder and a pound of lead to a sailor, to defend his boat,” said a
sailor.
“There is always a good place at the fireside of Maison-Forte, a good
glass of Sauve-chrétien wine and a piece of silver for those who go
there,” said a beggar.
“And his daughter! An angel! A perfect Notre Dame for the poor
people,” said another.
“Well, who in the devil denies all that?” cried the consul.
“Raimond V. kills wolves because he is fond of the chase. He does not
mind a piece of silver or a pound of powder or a glass of wine, because
he is rich, very rich; but he does all this to hide his perfidious
designs.”
“What designs?” asked several auditors.
“The design of ruining our commerce, ravaging our city, in short,
doing worse than the pirates, or the Duke d’Eperaon with his
Gascons,” said the consul, with a mysterious air.
All this, which he did not believe, the consul had uttered as an
experiment, and the alarming disclosure of some hidden design, exciting
the curiosity of the crowd, was at last listened to with attention.
“Explain that to us, consul,” said all, with one voice.
“Master Isnard, who is a man of the law, is going to explain this
tissue of dark and pernicious schemes,” said Talebard-Talebardon.
The recorder came forward with an anxious air, raised his eyes to
heaven, and said:
“Your worthy consul, my friends, has told you nothing but what is,
unfortunately, too true. We have proofs of it.”
“Proofs!” repeated several hearers, looking at each other.
“Give me your attention. The king, our master, and monseigneur the
cardinal have only one thought,--the happiness of the French people.”
“But we are not French, we are quite another thing,” said a
Provençal, proud of his nationality. “The king is not our master, he
is our count.”
“You talk finely, my comrade, but listen to me, if you please,”
replied the recorder. “The king, our count, not wishing to have his
Provençal communities exposed to the despotic power of the nobles and
lords, has ordered us to disarm them. His Eminence remembers too well
the violences of the Duke d’Epernon, of the lords of Baux, of Noirol,
of Traviez, and many others. He desires now to take away from the
nobility the power of injuring the people and the peasantry. Thus,
for instance, his Eminence wished,--and these sovereign orders will
be executed sooner or later,--he wished, I repeat, to remove from
Maison-Forte, the castle of Raimond V., the cannon and small pieces of
ordnance which guard the entrance of your port, and which can prevent
the going out of the smallest fishing-boat.”
“But which can also prevent the entrance of pirates,” said a sailor.
“No doubt, my friends, the fire bums or purifies; the arrow kills the
friend or the enemy, according to the hand which holds the crossbow. I
should not have had any suspicion of Raimond V., if he had not himself
unveiled to me his perfidious designs. Let us put aside his cruelty to
me. I am happy to be the martyr of our sacred cause.”
“You are not a martyr, as you are still living,” said the
incorrigible sailor.
“I am living at this moment,” replied the recorder, “but the Lord
knows at what price, with what perils, I have bought my life, or
what dangers I may still be required to meet. But let us not talk of
myself.”
“No, no, do not talk of yourself,--that does not concern us,--but tell
us how you obtained proof of the wicked designs Raimond V. has against
our city,” said an inquirer.
“Nothing more evident, my friends. He has fortified his castle again,
and why? To resist the pirates, say some. But never would the pirates
dare attack such a fortress, where they would gain nothing but blows. He
has made a strong fort in his house, from which the cannon can founder
your vessels and destroy your city. Do you know why? In order to
tyrannise over you for his profit, and tread Provençal customs under
foot with impunity. Wait; let me give you an instance. He has,
contrary to all law, established his fishing-nets outside of his legal
boundary.”
“That is true,” said Talebard-Talebardon; “you know he has no
right to do it. What injury that does to our fisheries, often our only
resource!”
“That is evident,” answered a few hearers; “the seines of Raimond
V. have injured us, especially now when the supply of fish is smaller.
But if it is his right?”
“But it is not his right!” shouted the recorder.
“We will know to-day, as the suit is to be decided by the overseers of
the port,” said an auditor.
The recorder exchanged a glance of intelligence with the consul, and
said:
“Doubtless the tribunal of overseers is all-powerful to decide the
question, but it is exactly on this point that my doubts have arisen. I
fear very much that Raimond V. is not willing to refer to this popular
tribunal. He is capable of refusing to obey that summons, made, after
all, by poor people, on a high and powerful baron--”
“It is impossible! it is impossible! for it is our special right. The
people have their rights, the nobility have theirs. Freedom for all!”
cried many voices.
“I hold Raimond V. to be a good and generous noble,” said another,
“but I shall regard him as a traitor if he refuses to recognise our
privileges.”
“No, no, that is impossible,” repeated several voices.
“He will come--”
“He is going to appear before the overseers--”
“God grant it!” said the recorder, exchanging another glance with
the consul. “God grant it, my friends; because, if he despises our
customs enough to act otherwise, we must think that he put his house in
a state of such formidable defence only to brave the laws.”
“We repeat that what you are saying, recorder, is impossible. Raimond
V. cannot deny the authority of the overseers, nor can he deny the
authority of the king,” said an auditor.
“But, first, he denies the authority of the king,” cried Master
Isnard, triumphantly; “and, since I must tell you, I believe, even
after what your worthy consul has told me, that he will deny, not only
the royal power, but the rights of the community also; in a word, that
he will positively refuse to appear before the overseers, and that he
wishes to keep his seines and nets where they are, to the detriment of
the general fishery.”
A hollow murmur of astonishment and indignation welcomed this news.
“Speak, speak, consul; is it true?”
“Raimond V. is too brave a nobleman for that.”
“If it is true, yet--”
“They are our rights, after all, and--”
Such were the various remarks which rapidly crossed each other through
the restless crowd.
The consul and recorder saw themselves surrounded and pressed by a
multitude which was becoming angrily impatient.
Talebard-Talebardon, in collusion with the recorder, had prepared this
scene with diabolical cunning.
The consul replied, hoping to increase the dissatisfaction of the
populace:
“Without being absolutely certain of the refusal of Raimond V., I have
every reason to fear it; but the recorder’s clerk, who carried the
summons to Maison-Forte yesterday, and who has been obliged to go to
Curjol on business, will arrive in a moment, and confirm the news. Our
Lady grant that it may not be what I apprehend. Alas! what would become
of our communities, if our only right, the only privilege accorded to us
poor people, should be snatched away from us?”
“Snatched away!” repeated the recorder; “it is impossible. The
nobility and the clergy have their rights. How dare they rob the people
of the last, the only resource they have against the oppression of the
powerful!”
Nothing is more easily moved than the mind of the populace, and
especially of the populace on Mediterranean shores. This crowd, but a
moment before controlled by their gratitude to the baron, now forgot
almost entirely the important services rendered to them by the family
of Anbiez, at the bare suspicion that Raimond V. wished to attack one of
the privileges of the community.
These rumours, circulated among different groups, singularly irritated
the minds of the fishermen. The recorder and the consul, thinking the
moment had arrived in which they could strike a final blow, ordered one
of their attendants to go in quest of the recorder’s clerk, who ought,
they said, to have returned from his journey, although, in fact, he had
not left La Ciotat.
At this moment, the five overseers of the port and their syndic, having
met after mass under the porch of the church, passed through the crowd
to enter the town hall, where they were to hold their solemn audience.
The new circumstances gave additional interest to their appearance; they
were saluted on all sides with numerous bravos, accompanied with the
cries:
“Long live the overseers of the port!”
“Long live the Provençal communities!”
“Down with those who attack them!”
The crowd, now greatly excited, pressed hard upon the steps of the
overseers, so as to be present at the session.
Then the clerk arrived. Although he said much in protest of the
interpretation given to his words by the recorder and the consul, those
men continued to exclaim with hypocritical lamentations.
“Ah, well, ah, well, consul,” cried one of the crowd, “is Raimond
V. coming? Will he appear before the tribunal?”
“Alas! my friends,” replied the consul, “do not question me. The
worthy recorder has predicted only too well. The tyrannical, imperious,
irascible character of the baron has been again made manifest.”
“How? How?”
“The clerk was charged yesterday to notify Raimond V. to appear before
the tribunal of overseers; he has returned and--”
“There he is! Ah,--well, come to the point!”
“Ah!”
“Ah, well!”
“Ah, well, he has been overwhelmed with the cruel treatment of Raimond
V.”
“But,” whispered the clerk, “on the contrary, the baron made me
drink so much wine that I--”
Master Isnard seized the clerk so violently by his smock-frock, and
threw such a furious glance on him, that the poor man did not dare utter
a word.
“After having overwhelmed him with cruel treatment,” continued the
consul, “Raimond formally declared to him that he would make straw
of our privileges, that he intended to keep his seines, and that he was
strong enough to overcome us, if we dared act contrary to his will, and
that--”
An explosion of fury interrupted the consul.
The tumult was at its height; the most violent threats burst out against
Raimond V.
“To the fishing-nets! the fishing-nets!” cried some.
“To Maison-Forte!” cried others.
“Do not leave one stone upon another!”
“To arms! to arms!”
“Let us make a petard to blow up the gate of the moat on the land
side!”
“Death, death to Raimond V.!”
Seeing the fury of the populace, the recorder and the consul began to
fear that they had gone too far, and that they would find it impossible
to control the passions they had so imprudently unchained.
“My friends,--my children!” cried Talebard-Tale-bardon, addressing
the most excited of the speakers, “be moderate. Run to the
fishing-nets,--that you may do, but make no attack upon Maison-Forte, or
upon the life of the baron!”
“No pity!--no pity! You yourself have told us, consul, that Raimond
was going to fire on the city and the port and do worse than the Duke
d’Epernon and his Gascons.”
“Yes, yes. Let us destroy the old wolfs den and nail him to his
door!”
“To Maison-Forte!”
“To Maison-Forte!”
Such were the furious cries which met the tardy words of moderation,
which the consul now tried to make the excited people heed.
The more peaceable inhabitants pressed around the town hall, so as to
enter the room of the tribunal where the overseers were already
seated. Others, divided into two bands, were preparing, in spite of
the entreaties of the consul, to destroy the fishing-nets and attack
Maison-Forte des Anbiez, when an extraordinary incident struck the crowd
with amazement, and rendered it silent and motionless.