The Lord of Beauvais was walking up and down in his garden conversing
on various subjects with his friend; as often as they passed the little
open summer house, Eveline called out to them and directed their
attention to the building, which she was trying to imitate with cards.
The Counsellor of Parliament was violently struggling with his
feelings, and his friend was trying in vain to tranquillise him.
"I have never yet seen you so obstinate," said the latter, at length,
almost impatiently; "what is it then at last, Edmond is a young man
like many others, let him exhaust his ardour, at a later period he will
afford you satisfaction, for do we not recognise in him strength,
character, and a noble heart, and these must certainly produce
something good hereafter."
"It is only towards you that I am so communicative," answered the
father, "I control my impatience in the presence of others and
especially before my son, but much as I must love him, I cannot
participate in your hopes. Were he only hasty and inconsiderate, all
might be well for I have been so too, I would even look favourably upon
his extravagant, overstrained religious zeal and all connected with it;
for early in life my own heart singularly experienced these feelings;
if with all this deep-rooted self will, this violent excess in every
thing, he would only add an inclination to activity, if he would but
instruct himself, if he would occupy himself in any way. I feel too
well that he presents but a disfigured resemblance of a part of my own
youth, but inwardly he is most unlike me, and in some measure
inimically opposed to me; thus unhappily is the neglected education of
his childhood avenged. You know well my old friend how much and almost
how culpably he was beloved by my deceased wife, how extravagantly she
admired every idea, impulse and peculiarity of the child, and that Abbe
his tutor also, who only excited his imagination and nourished it with
legends and miracles; his youthful mind was thus dazzled and rendered
incapable of discerning truth and reality, it accustomed him to indulge
freely in all the emotions of his heart and to consider them unerring
and most exalted. Imperceptibly a contempt for all, who did not
coincide with him, crept into his mind, he looked upon them as cold and
perverse, and in his zealous hatred, he believed himself infinitely
superior to them. I was too weak, too irresolute to remedy the evil
while it was yet time, I flattered myself, that it would not take root
so easily, and when at last my suffering wife, whose feelings I ever
feared to distress, died in giving birth to my youngest child, it was
too late."
"All that may be true," rejoined his friend, "but not so bad however as
you consider it, stupidity and madness are alone incurable; a vein of
good runs through all really excitable natures, and the life of these
irritable and violent men is spent in continual struggles between good
and evil, so that the best part may be extracted and shine forth
glorified."
"You speak," said the Counsellor, "like a physician and chemist, you
deny that the soul can appropriate to itself immutable perversities
which afterwards constitute its life."
"So long as a man is young," rejoined the former, "I despair of nothing
and still less of your son, for he has never given himself up to
dissipation. This only and bad company ruin a man entirely, and the
exhaustion is not confined to the body, it also causes vacuity of mind,
it closes up every avenue to the heart, so that, finally, neither
reason nor understanding, nor any feeling for morality or honour
remains. Those are such as are incurable. You reproach yourself for the
indulgent education you have given him, it is not in that alone,
however, my old friend, that you have neglected it; you complain of
your son's want of activity, but you have yourself excluded him from
every means of exercising it. When he had grown up, he was destined to
follow your profession; he had, however, an antipathy to become a
lawyer, and then declared he would rather be shorn and become a monk. I
cannot censure him for this, forgive me, if I am too frank. He desired
to go to sea, you were inflexibly opposed to it: then he wished to try
his fortune in the army, our efforts to win your approbation to this
were equally ineffectual. I pity the young man; it is terrible for a
hair-brained fellow to be irrecoverably destined to sit behind a table,
poring over acts and processes. If you have been too indulgent
formerly, you are now a great deal too severe towards him."
"You do me wrong, infatuated man," exclaimed the Counsellor vehemently;
"it was not exacting too much to require of him to pursue my profession,
in which I have been so useful myself, it is an honourable and
benevolent one to mankind and corresponds with the noble freedom of our
sentiments; sufficient time remained to stroll about, to read, to make
verses and to indulge his passion for the chase. I was then convinced
that naval and military service were only chosen by him, that he might
escape from my paternal eye. I could not persuade myself that he chose
them as his profession with foresight and reasonable will. It grieved
me to lose him entirely; only too often ill-advised youths seek these
pretexts to sink into a busy idleness: for what is the soldier in
peace? At that time we had no war. I agree with you in what you say
about the dissipated life of our young men; but, perhaps, you will
laugh, when I assert that this passion for hunting is equally
insupportable to me. As soon as I perceived this rising within him, I
considered him as almost lost, for all young people, that I have ever
yet seen, entirely devoted to this occupation, are idlers, who cannot
again settle to any business; this seeming occupation with its
exertions and sacrifices teaches them to despise time, they dream away
their lives until the hour, that calls them up again to follow the hare
and the woodcock. And besides the penchant he has to rove about the
mountains, he frequently does not return for three or four days
together, he then walks about the house without rest or quiet, opens a
dozen books, begins a letter, or a stanza, scolds the servants and then
rushes out again; and thus passes day after day, and week after week."
The doctor looked at him, smiled, and then, after a pause, said: "Let
him alone, he will soon become tame, I have no fears on that account,
and why do you make yourself uneasy, my good friend? you are quite rich
enough; and even if he earns nothing, if he only learns to take care of
his fortune, to enjoy with moderation his income and to do good to
others, for it often occurs that useful occupations are perilous
undertakings. I understand perfectly all that you represent to me, and
am only surprised that you do not understand it yourself. Give him the
lady of Castelnau, and both will become reasonable, you will be a
grandfather and obtain another toy to amuse you."
"Never!" exclaimed the Counsellor of Parliament with the utmost
vehemence, "shall that take place as long as I live; it is she, who
bewilders him, who torments him, and yet nourishes all his prejudices.
Never speak to me of that again."
"You do the girl injustice," said the doctor, "strange she is, indeed,
but good, and out of the two excentricities a tolerable understanding
would arise." At this moment the garden-gate was closed violently,
Edmond entered, and the conversation ended. They saluted one another,
and seated themselves in the summerhouse with the little girl.
"Brother," cried Eveline, "it is all your fault, that my beautiful
house is knocked down. He causes nothing but misfortune." Edmond was in
a kindly mood, and said: "build it up again, my sister, and you will
have so much the more to do."--"Yes," answered she, "if I were allowed
to be as idle as you, it would matter very little, but I have yet to
sew to-day, and then to write and cipher, but you have nothing to care
for, and that is why you give so much trouble to people."
"What have I done besides upsetting your splendid card-house?" asked
Edmond.
"Look papa," cried the child, "he has already forgotten that he shot
dead his lady love; Oh, he will kill us all soon, and when he has done
that, he will be satisfied."
Edmond frowned; the father reprimanded the child's rudeness and the
doctor gave a different turn to the conversation. "Now, dear Edmond,"
said he, addressing the young man, "what do you say to the news, that
the Camisards, in spite of their late defeat, still hold out against
the king's troops, that they are masters of the plain, that an English
fleet will land in Getta, that a battle is said to have been lost in
Germany, and that, if only the half of all this be true, we are
thinking how we shall make friends with the rebels, that they may not
put an end to us."
"Do not jest," said Edmond, "our country has never yet been in such
danger, so long however as such gentle proceedings are used towards
these rebels, we are really standing on a precipice, if the foreign foe
should succeed in landing even a small army and ally itself with them."
"Do you call their treatment mild?" asked the Counsellor.
"I do not speak," continued the son, "of the executions, the
ill-treatment and all these cruelties against individuals, they are
severe enough; that even women and children are not spared is enough to
inspire all mankind with horror. I mean the dreadful manner in which
the war is carried on, so that already a royal army has been destroyed
without being able to arrive at the root of the evil itself. Their
warfare consists in skirmishes, in the mountains where the strange
soldier is almost always more easily entrapped; the rebels are
succoured by the mountaineers, who provide them with troops and
provisions, by the war these rude men learn to make war, and although
they cannot succeed in repeating these attacks in full force, and from
all points, at the same time, with military skill and discipline, yet
it is evident that the evil will rage still longer and perhaps they may
finally conquer."
"You appear to have changed your mind about your Marshal," said the
Lord of Beauvais.
"My Marshal?" resumed the son, "he is the King's-marshal, and under
this title he serves as a representative of his majesty to us all,
although the better part of the people desire that it should not be
so."
"Would to heaven," said the doctor, "that he only belonged to one of
us; I at least would make a vigourous attack upon him with pills and
rhubarb, so that he would soon make room for us; he is the only man
against whom I have ever before felt a grudge. Has he not in the space
of eight months sentenced to death more men than all the doctors in the
province would have been able to do. All those yonder in the mountains,
Cavalier and Roland included, he considers merely as his future
patients, and like an ignorant empiric he invariably prescribes one and
the same remedy for the most opposite constitutions. Yesterday, he
again caused twelve prophets to be hanged, who all affirmed, with their
latest breath, that a term would be soon put to his power. What is your
opinion, Ned, about this gift of prophecy, of these ecstasies and
convulsions?"
"It will not be believed in foreign lands," said the latter, "that such
things are practised, that many reasonable men speak of them as of a
mystery, and that our calender dates 1703."
"Let it date!" said Vila, "it seems then, my child, that you understand
the affair, inform me a little on the subject, for I do not understand
it at all, or, at least, I cannot express in appropriate words that
which has from time to time passed through my mind."
"What is there to understand in it?" said the young man impetuously,
"the grossest and most absurd deception that has ever ventured to
present itself to the mind."
"Not though in the sense in which you take it," said the doctor, "I
have observed many in the prisons, they are very unlike one another and
merit truly a serious consideration. I have never yet been in any of
their assemblies in the open air; or in barns; but I am resolved to
assist at their service yonder there at St. Hilaire, and if you give me
a kind word Ned, you shall have permission to accompany me. I have
brought some peasants clothing in my carriage, so that no one may
recognise us."
"I will accompany you, my good sir," said Edmond, "to make you ashamed
of having considered these people of any kind of importance. We shall
then be able to be more of one mind concerning this ridiculous
deception."
"You shall not go my son," said the father, "what can this curiosity
avail? I do not understand you, my friend; are not these unfortunate
men miserable enough? must idle curiosity and petulant caprice also
make a mockery of them? and what, if the oppressed should be betrayed,
or arrested, as it has already so frequently happened, and all
massacred without distinction, who then will have been the dupe to have
slyly insinuated himself among them? or should they recognise or
entertain suspicions of you?
"Does not the old patron himself talk already like a Camisard?" said
the doctor, laughing, "in short, do you not verily believe that the
prophets would recognise and denounce us as godless people to the
multitude? but tranquillise yourself, my cautious friend, a troop of
the rebels is here in the neighbourhood, on that account the soldiers
dare not trust themselves in the mountains, knowing that they have
these good friends in their rear. I wish, for once, however, to be in
the right, and you Edmond shall learn something; these are indeed a
very singular sort of schools, and information is fetched with
difficulty and in small quantities from over the mountains and rocks;
all men cannot be wholesale dealers like you. In reality, however, it
is my son who has persuaded me to this, and made me promise to bring
you, Edmond, too."
"Your son?" exclaimed Edmond, with great vivacity, "the friend of my
childhood, is he here again?"
"And you mention this to us now for the first time?" said the Lord of
Beauvais.
"You learn it now quite time enough," replied the doctor in his
phlegmatical humour; "yes, indeed, the vagabond is returned after many
years, he has had some experience, the hair-brained fellow. He has
studied in foreign universities, has seen Holland, England, and
Scotland, has wandered among the various tribes of India and now he is
at length returned suddenly and to my great satisfaction just as mad
and wild as ever, but well informed. He has heard wonders related of
our prophets in this country. He has seen many plants and animals of
this species in Asia, and seems as if fallen from the clouds, that, as
he turned his back upon them, a much more extraordinary plant should
have shot up in his own country close on the threshold of his native
home, than any he had observed in tropical climates, nor has he left me
a moments peace, until I promised to set out with him accompanied by
you too. 'But why did he not come here immediately with you?' cried
Edmond.
"His mother, his cousins, his acquaintances," answered Vila, "The whole
town of St. Hypolite would not let him go so quickly, he is obliged to
narrate until his throat is dry, he now waits to embrace you in the
little inn in the wood, and will then set out with you on your
chivalrous expedition.--Now my old friend, make no objections, grant
this pleasure to the young people."
"Well, be mad then," said the Counsellor of Parliament, "but there is
something in my breast that disapproves of this step. May heaven guide
you my son!"--They took leave, the carriage drew up, they ascended into
it in order to get over the first few miles.
Scarcely had they departed, when the servant entered hastily from the
garden. "A brilliant equipage is advancing on the road from Nismes, I
think a visit is intended for you, my Lord."
The Counsellor of Parliament hurried into the hall. "How," exclaimed he
astonished, "it is the Intendant himself, the Lord of Basville."--The
carriage stopped and a tall grave looking man, advanced in years,
descended and approached the master of the house with solemn steps.
They saluted each other and after a short pause the intendant began:
"You are doubtlessly surprised, my Lord Counsellor, to see me here, but
a matter of importance has led me to you, it appeared to me more
courteous to visit you myself than to request your presence at Nismes,
where, perhaps our conversation would not have been permitted to go on
so uninterruptedly and familiarly." The Counsellor, astonished at this
prelude to the conference, begged that he would immediately disclose
what had procured him the honour of a visit.
"You are slandered sir," said the Intendant, as he looked at him
fixedly; "I am not so fortunate as to be one of your friends, yet I
assert boldly and safely that they are abominable calumnies which are
brought against you, but which, when all the circumstances are joined
together, might obtain a semblance of veracity with some credulous
people." "Who dares attack my name?" said the Counsellor of Parliament.
"Many, very many," said the Intendant in a forcible tone, "and among
these are men of importance and respectability. I told you several
months ago, that you would repent refusing your son so resolutely and
inexorably permission to organise also a troop of volunteers to fight
against the rebels and to hunt them out of their hiding-places."
"I do not yet repent of it in the least, my Lord Intendant," replied
the Counsellor. "Permit me to differ with you on this subject."
"Had we," continued the Intendant, "obtained the assistance of citizens,
peasants, and principally of the nobles of the land, upon which we
ought to have been permitted to reckon with certainty, our king would
not have been compelled to send an army and a Marshal, who have
produced the war they should have quelled, for it was the peasantry
themselves who annihilated the villains; and like many other worthy
men, you have not offered your assistance, you preferred living in
disunion with your son, who is a spirited young man, and an enthusiast
in the right cause. This might be taken by all for paternal love and
fatherly authority, which certainly are never to be suppressed, but
permit me," continued he in a more rapid tone, as he perceived the
Counsellor's impatience--"this, joined to the opinions to which you
have more than once given utterance in the presence of strangers,
furnished matter for various conversations in the country; and what
took place some days ago, misleads even those who honour you; and this
is what I came here to charge you with."
"I see, with emotion, that I am esteemed, speak out," said the Lord of
Beauvais.
"You have," pursued the Intendant with the utmost coolness, "given
refuge to rebels; you have received fugitive Camisards; these villains
have shouted a vivat to you here in front of your house; you have
permitted this rabble to eat at your table; you have yourself opposed
violent resistance, when attempts were made to take them prisoners; and
your son's affianced bride has insulted the Marshal in public company."
"My lord!" exclaimed the old man entirely beside himself; however, he
said composedly, "the web of these lies is too gross not to be
immediately recognized as falsehood. She, whom you designate as my
son's bride, will never be such with my consent, I know her not, and
cannot love her; my house was open to some unfortunate travellers, and
one of this party whom I protected, and who announced himself by the
name of the Hermit, had nearly drawn destruction upon myself and
family."
He then related to him the occurrences of that evening, precisely as he
had experienced them and concluded thus: "You now perceive, my Lord
Intendant, how falsely people have judged me in this."
"I believe you," said the grave-looking man, "but you have forgotten the
saying that walls have ears, it is known how you have spoken sometimes
of the Marshal and of his love-intrigues, which he certainly takes too
little trouble to conceal, in which injurious expressions you have gone
so far as to call him hangman. My severity and inflexibility, for
which I am responsible to my God and to my conscience, you call
blood-thirstiness. You cannot deny that you have sheltered suspected
persons with hospitality, that until now you did not live at variance
with your son; that you have refused to allow him to serve his country
although he is of age; if the Lady of Castelnau insults our Marshal in
the presence of your son, while he keeps silence, one must believe that
he has an understanding with her on that subject, and if this should be
the case, suspicion further concludes, that you must be quite
reconciled and of one mind; therefore, say the malicious, that you must
render assistance every way to the rebels privately as well as openly,
and that we shall be more reproached for neglect, if we suffer it, than
praised for our forbearance; and this admits of no doubt."
"I desire examination, the strictest examination," exclaimed the
Counsellor of Parliament. "You know," said the Intendant rising, "that
in this perilous confusion there is no time for it; umbrage and
suspicion serve as proofs, the most trifling circumstances, if they
cannot be refuted, condemn; the martial-law, which the king has caused
to be proclaimed to us, must unfortunately take this cursory method,
for the welfare of the country and the preservation of millions demand
it."
"Then I am condemned without being judged? judged without having been
heard? they commence with the punishment and will be at leisure
afterwards to enquire into the case," said the Counsellor of Parliament
with bitterness.
"Do not be angry, my worthy sir," said the Lord of Basville. "There is
no question of all this yet, the proofs of it must be much more
positive; but you cannot yourself deny, that one may be allowed to look
upon you with suspicion, when so much is alleged, against you."
"And what then is required of me?" said the Counsellor.
"Nothing, unreasonable," replied the man of gravity, "nothing, to which
you can in justice offer any opposition. Yesterday I published a new
manifesto of his Majesty, wherein, nobles and citizens are summoned,
urgently, entreatingly, and commandingly, to stand up unanimously for
their country and religion. Three hundred young men have presented
themselves; let your son be free as his years demand, permit him thus
to testify his attachment to his king, for it is scarcely six weeks
since, when in my apartment, in presence of the Lord Marshal, he
complained with tears in his eyes, that your excessive parental
affection lays a heavy restraint upon him, and prevents him from
showing his zeal. You prevent him now again by your fatherly authority;
now, certainly, these indications joined to your indifference would
with myself weigh heavier in the scale. Your answer, my Lord Counsellor
of Parliament!" "My son," said the father with constrained displeasure,
"is free; he may serve the king according to his wish if he sets his
happiness upon it."
The Intendant bowed in silence, refused all refreshment and the
afflicted father followed the carriage with tearful eyes, as it rolled
away.--"Is it then, come to this?" exclaimed he, "you have now Edmond,
what you wished, I could not say no. You will now spare the roe and the
deer, and keep your balls for the chace after your brethren!--Oh what
folly to have allowed him to go with that thoughtless old man, under
these circumstances; if these blood-thirsty men knew that!--Aye, we
think to steer the bark of life with foresight and wisdom, and should
the tempest have but a moment's intermission, at the first calm we let
go our oars and dreaming we are wrecked on a rock."
Eveline entered from the garden, the old man embraced her tenderly and
sighed: "Soon, perhaps, thou wilt be my only child!"
"Have they taken Edmond away from you?" asked the child.
"They have indeed, my dear little one," replied the father.
"They will soon restore him to you again," said Eveline coaxingly, "we
can make better use of him, for others do not know at all what to do
with him."
All this moment firing was heard in the distance, and the old man
concealed himself with his child in the most retired room of the house.
He was soon recalled to the saloon, and was not a little surprised to
see his friend, the doctor, standing before him, and in reality clothed
in the dress of a peasant, so that at first he did not recognize him.
"Be not uneasy," said he, "nothing unfortunate has happened to us, but
something very ridiculous to me; only think, scarcely had I disguised
myself in this merry-andrew fashion, and advanced afoot towards the
mountains, than a servant, whether luckily, or unluckily, stepped up to
me, recognized me again and requested my attendance at the Marquis of
Valmont's, who is suddenly taken dangerously ill, the carriage was
waiting ready, I threw myself into it, made them drive as fast as the
horses could run, and here, just before your door, it occurs to me for
the first time, that in the dark and hurry, I left all my unfortunate
wardrobe at the inn in the wood, sword, wig, and every thing. Assist me
quickly with some of your clothes, or I shall not be able to attend the
Marquis."
"And the two foolish youths," said the Counsellor, "they are now alone,
without your counsel and prudence. Why did I suffer myself to be
infected with your frivolity?"
"Make no objections, my good friend," exclaimed the former, "all
these are trifles compared to my misery!--He quickly tore off his
clothes;--Bring! give!"
The domestic who was summoned thither assisted him, "My clothes are too
long, and perhaps too narrow for you," said the Counsellor. "Never
mind," cried the eager doctor, I shall perhaps the more easily impose
on the invalid; the black coat, the neckcloth, the waistcoat descends
to the knee, no harm in that; now for the wig!
"You know, extraordinary man," said the Lord of Beauvais, "that I have
given up that ornament here in this retirement more than ten years
ago.--There is not one in the house."
"No wig!" exclaimed Vila, and with horror let fall the black coat,
through one of the sleeves of which he had thrust his arm.--"Not a
single wig! man! now I begin to believe that you have renounced all
faith, what is to be done?"
The Counsellor and the servant endeavoured to quiet the provoked
friend, but he scarcely even heard their words. "A doctor to go to his
patient without a wig!" repeated he angrily, "it would cause an uproar
in the whole province, it would be reported in Paris, a scandalous
article would be inserted in the 'Mercure de France,' ah the infidel!
it would be even better to have no bread, no catechism in the house
than to want the necessary headgear, and the Marquis will not suffer
himself to be cured by me in this bald-headed condition, and his fever
will have still less respect for me."
But all his complaints were fruitless, he was forced to depart in this
strange costume, and could not in the least understand the Counsellor's
indifference to his embarrassment, "I should have expected more
friendship from the old heathen," muttered he to himself, "and all that
the Camisards have done, is nothing in comparison to my going without
sword and chapeau bas, dressed in black with ruffles and all the
appurtenances; but to advance to the bed of so distinguished a patient,
without a wig is nothing less than if I had lived among canibals." Thus
did he try by exaggerations to console himself for his plight.