Vendée is a region in Western France bordering the Atlantic. For resisting the French Revolution, the Vendeans paid a heavy price.

General Westermann eventually reported to the welfare committee: “There is no more Vendee, my republican fellow citizens! It died beneath our sabers along with its women and children. I just buried them in the swamps and woods of Savenay. According to your orders, the children were trampled to death beneath the hoofs of our horses; their women were slaughtered so that they couldn’t bring any more soldiers into the world. The streets are full of corpses; in many places they form entire pyramids. In Savenay we had to make use of massive firing squads because their troops are still surrendering. We take no prisoners. One has to give them the bread of freedom; however, mercy has nothing to do with the spirit of the revolution.” Westermann, however, soon met his nemesis; he was guillotined a short time later with his friend Danton.

Le Mans was the scene of further brutality; women, the aged, and children hiding in the houses of this large city were discovered and then under the eyes of Barbott and Prieure had their clothes torn from their bodies with sabers and bayonets; women and girls were raped, and since there weren’t enough living females for the “boys in blue,” the corpses were violated as well. This at least partially necrophilic orgy ended when the mob, accompanied by the rejoicing of the government’s soldiers, bound the cadavers together as “republican batteries” as they had done at Arras. In Angers, however, the mob decapitated those it had already hanged and demanded of the doctors that they prepare the heads so that they could place them on the battlements of the wall surrounding the city. Since the physicians were too slow at their work, the mob quickly decapitated another group of prisoners, among who was a saintly, 82-year-old abbess.

There is a rounding tribute song to their struggle here:

An English translation of the lyrics follow:

The piazza laughs and shouts at the blood that colours
The neck of the soldiers loyal to the crown
That above the stump kissed the lily of honour
With a grin they threw down the glove in challenge again

We are robbers and knights of the King, in the night we go
The cold wind of terror will not be able to stop us
If a white flower sprouts in our midst
The gold that we rob with honour
Within our hearts it shines
Like the beautiful symbols of love
That led us to the throne

The swords of the Vandea mow down in the woods
Barons and peasants we are ready for battle
To avenge those who cut the lily
There on the guillotine
To embrace again the French sun
On our hill

We are the robbers and knights of the king, in the night we go
The cold wind of terror will not be able to stop us
If a red flower sprouts in our midst
It is the blood of those who still believe
Of those who combat the revolution
Of men of honour

In the skies devastated by plebian judges,
By the hatred of men, by the lament of the heroes
Sprouts a beautiful flower that the knights wore on their cloaks
It is the white lily that perfumed the field of the rebels

The Sacred Heart bleeds on our flag
And in the night begins my last prayer
The Blessed Virgin saves France from the curse
The flower of victory, counterrevolution, sprouts again

We are the robbers and knights of the king, in the night we go
The cold wind of terror will not be able to stop us
The gold that we rob with honour
Inside our hearts it shines
Like the beautiful symbol of love
That tied us to the throne