CATHELINEAU’S MOTHER
The old motto, attributing disrespect to every prophet
in his own country, had not been proved true with
reference to Cathelineau in St. Florent. His
deeds, during the short period of his triumph, had
been celebrated there with general admiration, and
since his death, his memory had been almost adored.
The people of the town had had no public means of
showing their appreciation of his valour; they had
not as yet had time to erect monuments to his honour,
or to establish other chronicles of his virtues, than
those which were written in the hearts of his townsmen.
He had left an aged mother behind him, who had long
been dependent on his exertions for support, and they
had endeavoured to express their feeling of his services,
by offering to place her beyond the reach of poverty;
but, unaccountably enough, she was the only person
in St. Florent, who was dissatisfied with her son’s
career, and angry with the town which had induced
him to adopt it.
She still lived in a small cottage near the extremity
of St. Florent, which had been the residence of Cathelineau
as long as he supported himself by his humble calling.
It was now wrecked and shattered, and showed those
certain signs of ruin which quickly fall on the dwellings
of the aged poor, who have no young relatives round
them. Here she would sit and spin, seldom now
interrupted by any; though at first her neighbours
used to flock thither to celebrate the praises of her
son. She had loved her son, as warmly as other
mothers love their children; but she had loved him
as a hard-working labourer, earning for herself and
for him their daily pittance; not as a mighty General,
courted and complimented by the rich and great of
the land. She had begged him not to go out into
the town on the morning when he had been so instrumental
in saving his townsmen from the ignominy of being pressed
into the service of the Republic; and when he returned
in the evening, crowned with laurels, she had not
congratulated him. She had uttered nothing but
evil bodings to him on the day when he first went to
Durbelliere; and when he returned from Saumur, chief
General of all the forces of then victorious La Vendee,
she had refused to participate in the glories which
awaited him in his native town. On his departure
to Nantes she had prophesied to him his death, and
when the tidings of his fall were first brought to
her, she merely said that she had expected it.
The whole town mourned openly for Cathelineau, except
his mother. She wept for him in silence and alone;
but she wept for the honest, sturdy, hard—working
labourer whom she had reared beneath her roof, and
who had been beguiled away by vain people, to vain
pursuits, which had ended in his death; while others
bewailed the fall of a great captain, who had conferred
honour on their town, and who, had he been spared,
might have heaped glory on his country. Since
that time, she had not ceased to rail on those who
had seduced her son into celebrity and danger; and,
after a while, had been left to rail alone.
