Edmond had again returned to consciousness, and on opening his eyes, he
saw Mazel by his couch and the swarthy Eustace, who although wounded
himself, had stayed to serve him and was kneeling by his bed. He could
not for a long time recall to his recollection how he had come there,
and the fierce looking men, with the view from the hut over the
mountains and woods, threw him into a strange reverie. However, he was
soon enabled to connect one idea with another, and to reassemble all
his faculties. His imagination was still busied with Cavalier, he
fancied he could follow and see him, now, as a shadow, then, brighter
again, yet it seemed as if his feverish state presented him figuring to
himself, in real colours and contour, the portrait of his friends and
the place in which he was. Eustace kissed his hands and bathed them
with tears. "Oh, my dear young master!" cried he then sobbing, "that
you should now come among us, and have been obliged to experience
anything so bad from our wildest prophet! yes, brother Ravanel, is the
worst, should I have said in my stupidity, the most godless: may heaven
forgive me my sins. No, all of us and himself too must often pray, that
the Lord may moderate his ardent zeal, for he is almost always in
anger, and only too frequently as if raving. Are you better now,
gracious sir?" Edmond pressed his hand and said, "I feel that the wound
is not of much consequence, it was the loss of blood alone made me
faint; but brother Eustace, as I am now a brother to you all, leave off
that empty mode of the men of the world, and call me thou, as it is
customary among you."
"As thou wilt!" exclaimed the former greatly affected: "but I am as if
in heaven, that thou brother, that thou, who wast so proud shouldst
thus converse with me. They always deny miracles, and yet this is truly
one."
"Leave him to repose, brother Eustace," said Mazel, "do not excite and
tease him any more in order that he may be soon restored." "Relate to
me," said Edmond, "brother Abraham, that my imagination may be directed
to a fixed point, which otherwise in its diseased state is wandering
lost and bewildered. Do I remember rightly, that thou saidst to-day in
that extraordinary dispute, which my soul cannot even yet understand,
thou hadst given rise to the present war. Or was it not so? tell me
something about it, for although I have grown up in this neighbourhood,
I know but little connected with these affairs."
Mazel replied: "It is true brother Edmond, it is also not true, as one
may consider the matter, and thus it is perhaps with most things in the
world. I was a lad of about twenty years of age, when, suddenly they
abolished our reformed religion, it went to the hearts of all
throughout the whole country. I was then only a forest-ranger in the
service of the Lord of Mende, on the banks of the Rhone. About this
time they began to emigrate from the country. Nobles, merchants,
peasants, and citizens went away (for that was yet permitted) towards
Switzerland, Holland, England and Germany, where they were well
received, for the poorer ones were industrious mechanics, had knowledge
of manufactures, and carried many arts and advantages to other lands. I
had no inclination to go with them. Gracious heaven! home is sweet,
where man is born, air and water seem good to him, where my language is
understood, there is my heart. Added to this, I loved a maiden; and
besides, they intended to make me a royal ranger. The thing pleased me,
and with love, domestic joy and happiness in my native land; I bound up
the mouth of conscience so close, that like a dancing bear, it could
not bite around it. The extensive emigration, the fortune that they
carried away with them, caused a great sensation, this they had never
suspected and probably thought all were quiet cattle like myself, and
just as willing to let themselves be bound to the manger. Now under
pain of being sent to the gallies, every body was prohibited to quit
the country; Ah! that gave a shock, and completely so, when they did it
in reality, and, as an example, several old noblemen were chained to
the oar. The anguish was great in the land. All were forced to attend
mass; the dragoons were sent out; the people tortured; the children
shut up. The most enthusiastic went out together into the woods and
caverns, and prayed there and preached to one another. Whomsoever they
found thus employed, was without further ceremony broken alive on the
wheel; hanging was a favour. Our Intendant thought to crush the affair
with prompt violence, and appalling horror, that old and young needed
only to be quickly reminded of their religion. People often think in
reality, because they are themselves convinced of the matter, and that
it is only carelessness in others: they wish to recall them to
themselves, and often in the midst of their barbarity, they do not mean
so badly towards them."
"Thou art right Mazel," interrupted Edmond, "I myself was of this
belief a short time ago." "But now," continued the old man in his
relation, "all our souls acquired an entirely different colour, they
were clad in new vestments, for we had not thought of it thus, and we
came to our recollection, but in a very different manner. Were I in the
wood and my dog only whined, it seemed precisely to me as if it were my
conscience. Yes, I was struck, I sought for, but could not find the
hidden jewel. My wife then consoled me once more, and thought that all
would certainly come round again.--Now it was strange enough, that a
pious society had already long since arisen in Dauphine. An aged man
lived there upon a high mountain in the middle of a wood. He had a
glass-manufactory in that solitude. Now we have all experienced that
mountain and valley, the air that one breathes there, the murmurings,
the singular voices, the cry and the echo, make a man bolder, fresher,
and also more imaginative; he no longer fears his brethren in the
cities, he prizes not so highly the stone-houses and the smooth
streets, and all the singing of bells. The man Du Serre had visions and
revelations. He did not, however, go about preaching. He, as well as
myself, was wanting in that gift, but he was endowed with that of
foresight. Can one learn that from another? we must believe it, and our
times confirm it. But how? there lies the riddle! Should it be called
an art? by no means! The enemies call it imposture, that is impious.
Well, this glass-manufacturer kept fifteen young men in his house, and
his wife as many young girls, they almost all experienced the
enlightening, and the greater part of them the gift of preaching. Thus
then did they go out into the world. The fame of beautiful Isabelle was
soon spread abroad. She seduced every-body to apostacy, as the others
termed it. Still more efficaciously did a youth, named Gabriel Astier,
teach and convert. A part of Dauphine and our neighbourhood of Vivares
soon became one flame of religion. The children then already began to
prophecy. But the poor creatures, without weapons of defence in their
too zealous faith, were surprised by the soldiers, and the greatest
number massacred. Our Basville and his son-in-law, the Marshal Broglio,
bore the fame of having massacred them all. Gabriel also, who had
become a soldier in Montpellier, was recognized and executed, and the
lovely Isabelle from fear, in the dungeon of Grenoble, retracted from
her faith, and thus all had the appearance of tranquillity. Sparks of
the faith, however, and of the force of miracles had been scattered and
lost in the Cevennes. For the spirit possesses the property of fire,
which, out of a little spark, by which a small beetle cannot warm
itself, grows, in a few hours, into a brand that lays woods in ashes,
and mocks all human efforts to extinguish it. What may not lie in one
single word? Oh thou mournful sound, like the twittering of the
swallow, thou appearest to die away in the wilderness, the spirit
conducts thee through the world, and puts thee on a coat of mail that
armies grow out of the ground, and horses and riders, and thousands
sent by kings with the thunder of artillery, were not able to make the
little world as quiet and small as it lay formerly in the solitary
cottage. Praised be the Lord!"
He prayed inwardly, and then continued: "In the meantime, people became
older and wiser but certainly more obstinate, I already began to think
no more of my former faith, nor had the new one either much effect on
my heart. I was an ass between two hayricks, and ate of neither.
"A man of the name of Beoussan, a man of God, lived first at Nismes,
and afterwards at Toulouse. He was a reformer and a lawyer, who always,
and when the people were poor, gratuitously took up the cause of his
companions of the faith: His was a spirit full of gentleness and
goodness. He went into foreign countries, became a priest in
Switzerland, preached there and in Holland, and edified thousands. Him
did the spirit and his native land lead back into our country and then
the Lord conducted me to him in the wilderness. My wife was dead at
that time, and lonely and childless, as I then was, my whole heart that
had lain so long untilled, was again enabled to bear genuine fruit. It
was, as if I began from that time to imbibe again a portion of heavenly
comfort in my cottage. Thus things went on. I was no longer in
ignorance, but I was not yet happy. This would not last, hail-showers
sometimes destroyed my seed, and when I often lay in wait with the best
dispositions, and with an open and acute mind, loaded and ready to
shoot, there came no game, no animal sprang up in the wilderness of my
heart. Ah, we totter on thus pitiably for years, and time passes as a
dream and intoxication. I glanced round me, I had become old. How!
thought I, when the Lord looks down, he will see furrows on thy old
skin and thou art still neither hot, nor cold. Than came the late Mr.
Beoussan, the holy master, among us. An impulse of the spirit, as he
said, led him to us. He was well and comfortable at home, but, pious
bird of the forest! he wished to visit once more his beloved mountains,
dells, the clear brooks, and to pour so thrillingly, fully, and
affectionately into our hearts the tones of the sweet nightingale, that
burst from his breast, that he must die from the effort.--Amen!--"
He stopped again, and Edmond said: "I often saw this pious Beoussan at
Nismes, before he was executed. It is not yet five years since he
sealed his doctrine with an ignominious death."
"Then," pursued Abraham Mazel, "All the former restrictions were
renewed with greater severity. We could not speak, scarcely think
without being betrayed. A year had now elapsed, when an assembly of
religious people in Alais was surprised by Basville, they were all
dragged to prison, and all, without further enquiries, were sentenced
to martyrdom. This took place in October. I had also been present, and
only escaped through a miracle. I had already seen some of the
prophecying children here and there, without profit, my heart became
rather colder at the sight, because the little worms did not please me
in that state. Now, after my day's work was finished, I sat in
solitude, tired and exhausted from riding, and looked round at the
green meadows, the sky and the mountains. I tried, in my inmost soul,
to unravel the mystery, why all should be thus and not otherwise, how
God and man, virtue and sin, in and through one another, and how in
this entwined knot, now and then the rays of eternity shine down into
this temporal world, and how, in one short moment, we feel and
experience within us the whole unfathomable eternity, and many thousand
thoughts and feelings, of which the smallest in the tittle of time, is
allowed no place. Also why we were so miserable, and what was the end
of the Lord in this. Behold, my friend, there descended a vast stream
of thoughts from heaven, (I saw, but knew not one word, one letter of
it) and alighted as with large eagle's wings upon my brain and roared
and murmured there, and the marrow of my back became cold as ice, and
my inmost soul was congealed and frozen, and my teeth chattered with
fear. How the breath lost itself in my breast, and now it was, as if
little cooing doves were flying through the immeasureable space of my
soul. A gentle heat came over me and my heart sprung open as the rose
out of its bud on a spring morning, and the Lord was within me. Then I
fell down and my prayer was prophecy. Oh, how could I have thought that
his presence was so sweet, who, with his glory, almost broke down the
wall of the narrow dwelling. Thanks be to him for ever and ever, Amen!"
"His wonders are immeasureable and unspeakable," said Edmond.
"Many," said Abraham in continuation, "whose faith was suspected,
were imprisoned throughout the whole country. They were most
severely treated by the Abbe Chaila who resided in the Chateau Pont
Mont-de-Verd. Parents, husbands and betrothed mourned for those that
had been carried off. It would have been sinful to place my light under
a bushel. I summoned together a little community of zealous souls in
the forest, there they witnessed my inspiration, and their courage was
raised. It was in the middle of summer, and I prophesied to them that
they should release the prisoners. The following night we assembled
together, and Pervier, a young man, whose bride was languishing in the
prisons, undertook the command. They advanced in front of the dwelling;
the Abbe's servants fired from the windows and killed three of our
friends. We now ceased to sing psalms, and stormed the castle with
trees and firebrands. The gates gave way, we entered, and encountered
the Abbe in his chamber. He suffered his dungeon to be opened, we then
assured him that he should receive no injury. The prisoners came forth;
weeping, joy, sobbing, and singing filled the house. Then they shewed
their wounds, the marks of the torture, dimmed eyes and sunken cheeks.
A shout for murder resounded around. But Pervier and I appeased the
maddened people by word and deed. The Abbe heard the noise, was
terrified at our movements, and to save himself, he sprang from a high
window into the road, and lay dashed to pieces on the ground. His
attendants and many of us ran up to him. 'The Lord has judged him for
his cruelties,' exclaimed several voices; they lay down by his side to
look into his dying eyes. Many, in spite of their emotion, could not
conceal their malicious joy, and thus in reality, our first act was the
beginning of the war, a story, which, in order to defame us, they have
entirely altered."
"It is believed," said Edmond, "that you criminally and wantonly
murdered him."
"Had it depended upon the will of one that was among us," continued
Mazel, "that, and much more would have happened. A stout, fierce man
was of our party, who very unwillingly submitted to the commands of the
moderate Pervier; you know him by his fame, Esprit Seguier. In him
already burned the fire, which now shines forth in Catinat and Ravanel,
and even then many were of opinion, that this was the true religion,
and that the zeal of Elias and not the gentleness of St. John should
save us. We all retired quietly, cheerfully, and happily. Not one of us
had been discovered. Then Seguier assembled a troop as fierce as
himself, and while the soldiers were seeking for us, returned to
Pont-de-Verd, burnt the castle, slaughtered all the priests that he
found there, and cut down all whom they encountered. But misfortune
overtook them. They were defeated; when they sought for the leader, he
himself issued from a cottage, and declared his name. 'Wretch!'
exclaimed the commander, what treatment dost thou deserve for thy
deeds?' 'That which I would give thee, wert thou my prisoner,' replied
the enthusiast, 'and verily, such as thy friends would not rejoice
over.' He remained firm to the last. He was burnt alive. A proclamation
was then issued, offering pardon to all that knew anything of the
affair of the Abbe, as well as to such as had been, up to that period,
Huguenots in secret. Innocent beings! poor deluded ones! they presented
themselves, and were all hanged before their doors, even those, who had
never been at Pont-de-Verd. Their anger was now no longer to be
restrained, the young men rebelled, I led them to Pervier, arms were
sought for, those who had none, took hatchet and sicle; a regiment
advanced to oppose us on the left of Karnaule. As soon as we began to
sing, the troops became intimidated; we rushed upon them, their balls
were of no effect, we hewed them down, five only escaped, to tell the
news of their defeat. Broglio himself then advanced upon us, but he was
driven back! A christian festival of thanksgiving was held in the
forest, and the Lord prophesied out of me to the edification of all
warriors. In our next combat Pervier was wounded, and appointed La
Porte our leader; but he did not feel that he was ordained to suffer
martyrdom, and soon went with his young wife to Geneva. Then the bold
La Porte fought the fearful battle before La Salle, of which thou must
have heard. He soon afterwards died gloriously of his wounds, for they
all opened afresh, when he was nearly cured, he sang psalms at divine
service, with so much ardour, that twenty wounded arteries bled at
once, and thus his soul, in red streams, and while he was still
singing, hastened up to heaven. To him succeeded his nephew, our
brother Roland, in command."
The latter advanced at that moment and affectionately enquired after
Edmond's health, and then charged Mazel to place sentinels round about,
for that Lord Flotard was coming and had private matters to discuss
with him, which no one was permitted to hear. Abraham retired, and
immediately from the opposite wood issued a richly dressed man, towards
whom Roland politely advanced, and both then hastened to a distance,
where they walked up and down on the skirt of the wood engaged in
earnest conversation.
"Canst thou hear what they say?" asked Edmond of the aged Eustace.
"No, brother," replied the latter, "how is that possible, since they
are so far from us, that I can scarcely distinguish them?"
But Edmond, when he turned his thoughts on Roland, could, to his great
surprise, understand all clearly and distinctly, so that not one word
of the conversation escaped him.
"I thank you sir," said Roland, "these sums come just in right time,
and will help to supply the unfortunate soldiers with those necessaries
that they have been so long compelled to forego." "And you remain
obstinate," demanded the former, "and will not accept anything for
yourself and the other leaders?"
"Do not mention that," said Roland, "you ought to know us at last. We
have not undertaken this holy war for robbery and gain: we are all
willing to remain poor. But the succours, where do they tarry? we do
what we can with short means, but a great calamity may annihilate us at
once, and then all assistance from without will come too late, even
now, a small one would be very acceptable. But already I forbode the
future, they will let us languish and perish, and then lament that they
did not lend us assistance sooner. It is ever thus, when one trusts to
foreign aid."
"Therefore a sum: could--in all cases"--observed the stranger.
"No," cried Roland with great vehemence; "Oh sir, do you think then
that I anticipate a happy result? I will live and die in this struggle,
end as it may. When I had the courage to take up the sword, I at the
same time threw away the scabbard too. I have devoted myself to ruin.
My name may be stained, the better part of mankind shall feel that I
was not debased, that, notwithstanding all, I was a good subject."
"A good subject?" said the stranger inquiringly, "I understand the
strangeness of these words. You think that I, a rebel, an outlaw, who
even accepts sums of money from foreign lands, may be purchased at a
cheap rate by the enemies of my king, and that I should maliciously
rejoice at every calamity that befell my sovereign. But it is not thus,
no Frenchman sinks so low. Let the king give us liberty of conscience,
and lame, starved, and bleeding at every pore, we will still fight for
him against England and Germany. And never would I, and my friends lend
our aid to bring our country under a foreign yoke; even should he
persist to act thus cruelly towards us: do not calculate upon that. But
I will fight for my cause in an honourable manner, as long as breath is
in me. Weak as we may be, we occupy a whole army, and with it lend
efficient succour to foreign countries. Do you not think, that with
these sentiments, I may call myself a good subject, though certain of
my ultimate ruin, by acting thus, I spare my king and country? I fall
in the fight here, or imprisonment, ignominy and martyrdom await me, no
spark of commiseration lights me on. I do not kindle the fiery zeal and
wrath of my people, in order, to break blindly into the land, to hazard
all on a dangerous game, by which the infuriated often win, I rather
restrain them. For myself I do nothing, for my party and my religion
everything. Could I but avoid involving these unfortunate men in my
ruin! But the king and fate have ordained it so."
"I am further to enquire," said Flotard anew, "whether experienced
officers should not be brought into the mountains as leaders?"
"I oppose that," said Roland gravely, "not on my own account. I know
not how we carry on the war, but still this little mountain-spot
occupies a great number of disciplined troops. We have done more than
we ever dared to think of, even in our dreams. And all those poor
enthusiastic men, who never enquire how numerous the foe may be, rush
with songs of praise upon the bayonet, and into the flames of the
stake; they would follow no foreign leader, who did not share with them
the same faith, and the same distress, for as I have already said, it
is not their wish to be rioters and rebels, and thus follow a foreign
standard, though with greater safety. They fight and conquer only under
their own known country-people, who pray and sing with them, whose
origin they know, and whose prophecies impel them to rush fearlessly
into the most palpable danger."
"They laugh at those prophets in foreign countries," said Flotard,
"What is your opinion of them?" "I know not what to say to it,"
answered Roland; I frequently see the miracle before my eyes, that
these men know things which no one can learn by natural means; but
again it often strikes me, that blind passion alone speaks out of them,
and that they voluntarily excite themselves to this state. The prophets
sometimes contradict one another. They direct our proceedings, and it
occurs occasionally that my regulations deviate from their wishes, but
I have sometimes had reason to repent of this.--Come now to the
magazines, and we shall consider what may be most necessary to us.
Roland called out, and accompanied by a few followers, they both
penetrated into the darkness of the forest.
END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
PRINTED BY J. TEUTEN, BOND STREET, CHELSEA.