Graham's Magazine, Vol. XL, No. 3, March 1852

by Various

All this had its effect, while I was busying my mind with other things—for I pursued every object with earnestness, nay with eagerness—I thought little of my loneliness, but often when my lessons were done, and I was tired of reading, and indisposed to walk, I would sit in our little garden, and looking round upon the various objects about me, would recall the pretty figure of my dear little lost Mariette dancing in and out amongst the trees and shrubs, and almost fancy I heard her sweet voice, and the prattle which used so to delight me, strangely mingled as it was, of the innocent frankness of her nature, and a certain portion of shy reserve, which had been forced into her mind by the various painful scenes she had gone through.

One evening as I was thus seated and looking out upon the road, which ran between our small house and the forest, I saw an old woman coming down from the high road which led to the town with a slow and weary pace. I should not have taken much notice of her, perhaps, had not her dress been very different from that of the peasantry in the neighborhood. It was a dress which awakened old recollections—that of the Canton in which I had been brought up, if not born. There was the white cap, with the long ears flapping down almost to the shoulders, and the top running up and curling over into a sort of helmet shape—Heaven only knows how it was constructed; but it was a very complicated piece of architecture. Then again there was the neat little jacket of dull colored gingham, and beneath it the short petticoat of bright red cloth, with the blue stockings, and the red embroidered clocks, and the high-heeled shoes with the silver buckles in them. She carried a good sized bundle in her hand, and held her head upright, though she was evidently tired. But as she came nearer, I saw a round, dry, apple-like face, with two sparkling black eyes and a nose of extensive proportions. I was upon my feet in one moment, and the next, good old Jeanette was in my arms.

I need not say how rejoiced I was to see her, or how rejoiced was also Father Bonneville, nor need I tell all her simple history since we had left her in France; nor how we wondered at her achieving so long a journey in perfect safety. Her account, however, showed how simple the whole process had been, though I do not mean to say that Jeanette put her statement altogether in the most simple terms. She was not without her own little share of vanity, innocent and primeval as it was. She did not, indeed, strive to enhance the value of her services and affection toward us, but she seemed to consider that she was magnified in abstract importance by dangers undergone and privations suffered. She told us how far she had walked on foot, where she had got a Diligence, where somebody had given her a ride in a cart, where she had got no supper, where she had got a good one, where she had been cheated of fifteen sous at least, and where the landlord and landlady were good honest people, and had treated her well for a reasonable remuneration. Her great difficulties had begun in Germany; the language of which land she understood not at all, but by dint of patient perseverance, and asking questions in French of every person she met—whether they understood that language or not—she had made her way at length to the spot which good Father Bonneville’s last letter had indicated as his place of residence, not having gone, by the nicest calculation, more than eight hundred and seventy-four miles out of her way. She looked upon it as a feat of great importance, and was reasonably proud of it; but she thought fit to assign her motives for coming at all—although those motives were not altogether very coherent, nor did the premises invariably agree with the deductions. Indeed, Father Bonneville was a little shocked at some of the proceedings of his good housekeeper; for he had a great objection to using dirty arms against those who even used dirty arms against him. It seemed that after Jeanette had notified his absence to the municipality, his books, papers, and furniture had been seized for the rapacious maw of the public good. An auction had been held on the premises, and every thing had been sold; but Jeanette boldly produced a claim upon the effects of the absconding priest for a great arrear of wages, which she roundly asserted had never been paid. She brought forward the agreement between Father Bonneville and herself, in which the amount to be paid monthly was clearly stated, and as the commune could show no receipts it was obliged to pass the good housekeeper’s account, and pay her the money out of the funds raised by the sale. Some laughed, indeed, and said that the good woman had learnt the first grand art of taking care of herself, while others defended her on the ground that it was rather laudable than otherwise to pillage an aristocrat. They cited even the cases of Moses and Pharaoh, where the plunder of the Egyptians was not only lauded, but commanded. An old touch of religious fanaticism reigned in that part of the country, and men, even the most atheistical in profession and in action, which is still more, could quote Scripture for their purpose when it served their purpose.

We are told that the devil does the same—and I think it very likely.

The sum thus received from Jeanette—swelled by every item she could think of, was by no means inconsiderable; but she had not cheated a fraudulent and oppressive civic government for her own peculiar benefit. The sum which had been left her by Father Bonneville, and the wages which had been paid her, sufficed to maintain her for several months in Angoumois—in her frugal mode of living—and to carry her across the whole of France, leaving her with some dozen or two of livres at the time she reached us in Germany. The money which she had obtained from the commune, all carefully deposited in a canvas bag, she produced and placed in the hands of Father Bonneville, who, to say sooth, did not well know what to do in the peculiar circumstances of the case. Jeanette justified her acts and deeds toward the commune upon the same principle on which some members of the commune had justified her supposed acts toward Father Bonneville. She did not know much about spoiling the Egyptians indeed; but her mind was not sufficiently refined to see the harm of cheating cheats, or spoiling plunderers of part of their plunder.

I believe the good Father talked to her seriously on the subject when I was not present; but what became of the money I do not know. All I can tell, is, that the good Father never seemed to be actually in want of money, and that all those romantic distresses which hinge upon the absence of a crown-piece, were spared us even in our exile.

Time passed. Jeanette was fully established in her old post in the household, with the addition of another German maid-servant. The one whom she found with us was strongly imbued with despotic ideas; and was, for good reasons, unwilling to submit either to the orders of a foreign superior in her peculiar department, or to the inspection of accounts and prices which she soon found was to be established. Another German girl, consequently, was sought for and found, who being younger in age, unhardened by experience, and of a diffident nature, willingly undertook to receive a dollar and a half a month, and do the harder work of the house under the orders of Jeanette, of which she did not understand one word.

Our peaceful state of existence, however, was not destined to be of very long duration. The successes of the allies, then combating the republicans of France, both on the northern and eastern frontier, insured us, for some time, tranquillity and safety. We heard of the defeat of the French army at Neerwinden, and the fall of Valenciennes and Condé, mixed with vague rumors of the defection of Dumouriez, and the flight of some of the most celebrated generals in the French army. These latter events gave great joy and satisfaction to Father Bonneville; for his hopeful mind looked forward to the re-establishment of law and order in his native country, and to the utter abasement of the anarchical party in France before the skill of Dumouriez, and the bayonets of the Austrians joined with those of all the well disposed and moderate of the land itself.

Many others shared in the same delusions; but the manifestoes of the Austrians, soon checked all enthusiasm, even on the part of the emigrants. No pretence was made of coming to support the loyal and orderly in the re-establishment of a monarchy, and a war of aggression and dismemberment was gladly commenced against France from the moment that Dumouriez’s more generous—and I must say, more prudent schemes, were rendered abortive by circumstances.

Doubtless, this first raised some indignation in the bosom of Father Bonneville, who was of too true and really loyal a nature to see unmoved, his native land partitioned by the sword, upon any pretence or coloring whatever. I do not know why, but these matters did not appear to me in the same light. I thought the people of France had committed a great crime, and deserved to be punished, as if they were but one simple, individual man. I thought that all who were genuine loyalists or supporters of an orderly and constitutional system were guilty of a crime little less great than that of the anarchists, in their dastardly holding back when great questions involving the whole fate of France, hung upon the simple exertion of a well ordered body of the bourgeoisie; and I saw not why they should not be punished for their culpable negligence which was more disastrous in effect than all the virulence of the terrorists—I saw not why those who committed tremendous crimes under the name of justice should not be brought under the sword of justice, and I looked forward, I confess, to a period of retribution with no little joy and satisfaction. It mattered not to me, in my ignorance of great affairs whether this was effected by the Austrians, the Prussians, or any other nation on the face of the earth, but France deserved punishment, and I hoped she might be punished.