A PROTESTANT CONVENTICLE
The house Number 11 Place Maubert, where La Renaudie had appointed a
rendezvous with Gabriel, belonged to an advocate named Trouillard. It
was already vaguely pointed at among the people as a place of resort for
heretics; and the fact that psalms were sometimes heard sung there in
the evening gave some credibility to these dangerous rumors. But after
all they were only rumors, and it had never occurred to the police to
investigate them.
Gabriel had no difficulty in finding the brown door, and following his
instructions, he knocked three times at regular intervals.
The door opened as if of itself, but a hand seized Gabriel's in the
darkness within, and a voice said,--
"Do not enter, for you cannot see clearly."
"I have my light with me," replied Gabriel, following the formula
prescribed by the letter.
"Enter, then," said the voice, "and follow the hand that guides you."
Gabriel obeyed, and took a few steps in that way; then the hand released
its hold, and the voice said,--
"Go on by yourself now."
Gabriel felt with his foot the first step of a staircase; he ascended,
counting seventeen steps, then stopped.
"What do you seek?" said a different voice.
"What is right," was his reply.
A door opened at once in front of him, and he entered a room very dimly
lighted.
A man was there alone; he approached Gabriel and said in a low tone,--
"Genève."
"Gloire," returned the young count at once.
The man then struck a bell, and La Renaudie himself entered by a
concealed door.
He came directly to Gabriel and pressed his hand affectionately.
"Do you know what took place in parliament to-day?" he asked.
"I have not left my house until now," replied Gabriel.
"You will learn all about it here, then," said La Renaudie. "You have
not yet bound yourself to us, but no matter; we will bind ourselves to
you. You shall know our plans, and our strength; there shall be nothing
concealed from you henceforth in the affairs of our party, while you may
remain free to act alone or with us as you choose. You have told me that
you were one of us in spirit, and that is sufficient. I do not even ask
your word as a gentleman not to disclose anything that you may see or
hear. With you it is a needless precaution."
"Thanks for your confidence," said Gabriel, much affected. "I will give
you no cause to repent it."
"Come in with me," continued La Renaudie, "and stay by my side; I will
tell you the names of those of our brethren whom you do not know. You
can judge for yourself of everything else. Come."
He took Gabriel's hand, pressed the secret spring of the concealed door,
and together they entered a large oblong hall, where about two hundred
persons were gathered.
A few torches scattered here and there cast only a dim light upon the
moving groups. Otherwise there was no furniture, nor hangings, nor
seats; a common wooden pulpit for the preacher or orator,--that was all.
The presence of a score or so of women explained, but did not justify
(let us hasten to say), the scandalous reports which were spread among
the Catholics as to these secret nocturnal meetings of the Reformers.
No one noticed the entrance of Gabriel and his guide. All eyes and all
thoughts were fixed upon him who stood on the rostrum at that moment, a
sectary of sad mien and grave speech.
La Renaudie told Gabriel his name.
"It is Nicolas Duval, a councillor of parliament," he said beneath his
breath. "He is just beginning to describe what took place to-day at the
Augustins. Listen."
And Gabriel listened.
"Our regular place of meeting at the palace," the orator continued,
"being occupied by the preparations for the celebration of Princess
Élisabeth's marriage, we sat temporarily for the first time at the
Augustins; and in some mysterious way the appearance of that
unaccustomed apartment made us from the very first feel a vague
presentiment that something out of the usual course would occur.
"However, Giles Lemaître, the president, opened the sitting in the
customary form; and there seemed to be nothing to justify the
apprehensions by which some of us had been disturbed.
"The question that had been discussed the Wednesday preceding was
reopened. It related to the regulation of religious opinion. Antoine
Fumée, Paul de Foix, and Eustache de la Porte spoke successively in
favor of toleration, and their eloquent and vigorous language seemed to
have made a marked impression on the majority.
"Eustache de la Porte resumed his seat amid loud applause, and Henri
Dufaur was just opening his mouth to complete the conquest of those who
were still hesitating, when suddenly the great door opened, and the
usher of parliament announced in a loud voice, 'The king!'
"The president did not seem in the least surprised, but descended
hastily from his chair to meet the king. All the members arose in
confusion, some altogether amazed, others very calm, as if they quite
anticipated the event.
"The king entered, accompanied by the Cardinal de Lorraine and the
constable.
"'I do not come to disturb your labors, Messieurs of the parliament,' he
said in the first place, 'but to assist them.'
"After a few meaningless compliments, he concluded his remarks thus:--
"'Peace has been concluded with Spain; but the fomenters of scandalous
heresies have taken advantage of the wars in which we have been engaged
to gain a foothold in the kingdom; and they must be stamped out, now
that the war is over. Why have you not ratified the edict against the
Lutherans which I caused to be submitted to you? However, I repeat, go
on freely in my presence with the deliberations you have already begun.'
"Henri Dufaur, who had the floor, boldly resumed his speech at the
king's command, pleaded earnestly for liberty of conscience, and even
ventured to add to his outspoken discourse some sorrowful but severe
strictures upon the measures adopted by the king's government.
"'Do you complain of disturbances?' he cried. 'Very well, we know their
author.' I might reply as Elias replied to Ahab, "It is thou who
tormentest Israel!"'
"Henri II. bit his lips and turned pale, but said nothing.
"Then Dubourg rose, and gave utterance to still more direct and weighty
remonstrances.
"'I consider, Sire,' said he, 'that there are certain crimes which
should be pitilessly punished, such as adultery, blasphemy, and perjury,
but which are condoned every day amid the prevailing licentiousness of
the time. But of what are the men accused who are thus to be delivered
over to the hand of the executioner? Is it of _lèse-majesté_? They
never omit the name of the prince in their prayers. They have never
preached revolution or treason. What! Because they have discovered the
great vices and the shameful shortcomings of the Roman hierarchy, by the
light of the Holy Scriptures, and because they have demanded that they
should be reformed, have they assumed a license which makes them worthy
of the stake?'
"Still the king never moved; but we could see that he was with
difficulty restraining an outburst of indignation.
"Giles Lemaître, the president, basely essayed to foment his mute
wrath.
"'Talk about heretics!' cried he, with feigned indignation. 'Let us deal
with them as with the Albigenses; Philippe Auguste burned six hundred of
them in one day.'
"This violent language perhaps served our cause better than the more
moderate steadfastness of our friends. It became evident that the final
result would be at least evenly balanced.
"Henri II. understood that, and determined to carry everything with a
sudden _coup d'état_.
"'Monsieur le Président is right,' said he; 'we must put an end to
these heretics, or they will escape us. To begin with, Monsieur le
Connétable, let those two rebels be arrested on the spot.'
"With his finger he pointed out Henri Dufaur and Anne Dubourg, and then
hurriedly left the hall, as if he could no longer contain himself.
"I need not tell you, friends and brothers, that Monsieur de Montmorency
obeyed the king's orders. Dubourg and Dufaur were seized and carried
away while occupying their seats as councillors of parliament, and we
were left in utter consternation.
"Giles Lemaître alone found courage to speak:--
"'It is just,' said he. 'So may all those be punished who dare to fail
of respect to the majesty of royalty!'
"But as if to give the lie to his words, the guards at that moment
entered the hall, and proceeded to execute orders which they produced,
by arresting De Foix, Fumée, and De la Porte, all of whom had spoken
before the king appeared at all, and had confined themselves to
defending the principle of toleration in matters of religion, without
suggesting the least reproach against the sovereign.
"Thus it became evident that it was not for their remonstrances uttered
in the king's presence, but simply for their religious opinions, that
five members of parliament, inviolable by law, had been charged with a
capital crime, by means of a shameful subterfuge."
Nicolas Duval ceased to speak. Mutterings of grief and anger had
interrupted him twenty times, only to follow more closely than ever his
description of that momentous and stormy session, which to us at this
distance in time seems as if it must have been told of another assembly,
and bears a startling resemblance to scenes that were enacted two
hundred and thirty years later.
But there was this important difference,--that at the later epoch it was
liberty and not royalty which had the last word to say!
The minister David followed Nicolas Duval upon the rostrum.
"Brothers," said he, "before we take counsel together, let us lift up
our voices and our hearts to God with a psalm, that He may quicken the
spirit of truth in us."
"Psalm forty!" cried several voices in the assemblage, and they all
began to sing the stirring words of that psalm.
It was an extraordinary selection to calm excited imaginations. It was
much more like a strain of menace, it must be confessed, than like a
prayer for guidance.
But wrath was uppermost at that moment in those sturdy souls, and it was
with marvellous impressiveness that all present joined in singing these
verses, in which the lack of poetic talent was replaced by the emotion
which animated them:--
"Gens insensés, où avez-vous les cœurs
De faire guerre à Jésus-Christ?
Pour soutenir cet Ante-Christ,
Jusques à quand serez persécuteurs?
Traîtres abominables!
Le service des diables,
Vous allez soutenant:
Et de Dieu les édits
Par vous sont interdits
À tout homme vivant."[1]
The last stanza was especially significant:--
"N'empêchez plus la predication,
De la parole et vive voix
De notre Dieu, le roi des rois!
Où vous verrez sa malédiction,
Sur vous, prompte s'étendre,
Qui vous fera descendre
Aux enfers ténébreux,
Où vous serez punis
Des maux qu'avez commis
Par tourmens douloureux."[2]
The psalm at an end, it was as if this appeal to God had relieved the
oppressed heart at once; silence was restored, and the assemblage was in
readiness to deliberate.
La Renaudie was the first to speak, in order to state concisely the
condition of affairs and its import.
"Brothers," said he, from where he stood on the floor, "being thus
brought face to face with an unprecedented proceeding which overturns
all preconceived notions of right and justice, we have now to decide
what course of conduct should be adopted by the adherents of the
Reformed religion. Shall we still suffer our burdens patiently, or shall
we act? Such are the questions which each one of us must propound to his
own conscience and answer according to its dictates. You see that our
oppressors propose nothing less than a general massacre, and propose to
strike us out from the list of the living, as one erases a badly written
word from a manuscript. Shall we wait like sheep for the fatal blow; or
shall we rather (since law and justice are thus violated by those very
persons whose sacred duty it is to protect them) try to do justice with
our own hands, and to that end temporarily substitute force for law? It
is for you to reply, friends and brothers."
La Renaudie made a short pause, as if to afford time for all their
intellects to digest the momentous question; then he resumed, desirous
at once to facilitate and hasten the conclusion:--
"Those whom the cause of religion and of truth should hand together are
unfortunately, as we all know, divided into two factions,--that of
Geneva, and that of the nobility; but when face to face with danger and
a common foe, it is fitting, it seems to me, that we should have only
one heart and one will. The members of both factions are alike invited
to state their opinions and suggest the remedies that occur to them. The
advice which offers the best chance of success should be unanimously
adopted, from whatever quarter it comes; and now, my friends and
brothers, speak freely and confidently."
La Renaudie's speech was followed by a considerable period of
hesitation.
Those who listened to him were lacking in just those two qualities,
courage and confidence; and in the first instance, notwithstanding the
bitter indignation which really filled all their hearts, the power of
royalty then enjoyed such great prestige that the Reformers, who were
novices at conspiring, did not dare to express at once and without
reserve their ideas on the subject of armed rebellion. They were devoted
to their opinions, and determined as a body; but each individual
recoiled before the responsibility of striking the first blow. They were
all ready to follow, but no one dared to lead.
Then, too, as La Renaudie had said, they were suspicious of one another;
neither of the two parties knew whither the other would lead it; and
their objects were, in truth, too dissimilar to make the choice of roads
and guides a matter of indifference to them.
The Geneva faction were really aiming at the foundation of a republic,
while that of the nobility simply desired to bring about a change of
dynasty.
The elective forms of Calvinism, the principle of equality which was
everywhere inculcated by the new church, tended directly toward the
republican system as it was in vogue in the Swiss cantons; but the
nobility did not wish to go so far, and would have been content, in
accordance with the advice of Élisabeth of England, to depose Henri
II., and replace him with a Calvinist king. The Prince de Condé's name
was whispered about as a suitable selection.
It would be difficult to imagine two more diametrically opposed elements
co-operating in a common cause.
Therefore, Gabriel saw regretfully that after La Renaudie's address the
two almost hostile camps eyed each other askance, without appearing to
think of drawing conclusions from the premises he had so boldly laid
down.
A moment or two passed in this unfortunate indecision, amid a confused
murmuring of many voices. La Renaudie could but ask himself whether he
had not, by being too blunt and outspoken, unwittingly done away with
all the effect of Nicolas Duval's recital; but having started on that
course, he determined to put everything to the touch, to win or lose
all, and so he thus addressed a thin, puny little man with bristling
eyebrows and bilious appearance, who made one of a group near him:--
"Well, Lignières, are you not going to speak to our brothers, and tell
them what you have at heart?"
"So be it!" replied the little man, and his gloomy countenance lighted
up. "I will speak; but I will not yield an inch, or extenuate anything."
"Go on,--you are among friends," said La Renaudie. While Lignières was
on his way to the rostrum the baron whispered to Gabriel,--
"That is a dangerous instrument to make use of Lignières is a
fanatic,--whether in good or bad faith I know not,--who urges everything
to extremes, and is always more repellent than attractive. But no
matter! We must know at any price what we have to rely upon, must we
not?"
"Yes," said Gabriel, "so that all these closed hearts may open to emit
the truth."
"Lignières and his doctrines hot from Geneva will wake them up, never
fear," rejoined La Renaudie.
The orator plunged at once _in médias res_.
"The law has brought about its own condemnation," said he. "What
resource remains? An appeal to force, and nothing else. You ask what we
ought to do! If I do not reply to that question, here is something which
will reply for me."
He held up a silver medal.
"This medal," he continued, "is far more eloquent than any words of
mine. For the benefit of those who are too far away to see it I will say
what it represents. It bears the image of a flaming sword cutting off
the blossom of a lily, whose stalk bends and falls near by; the sceptre
and the crown are rolling in the dust."
Then he added, as if he feared that he might be misunderstood,--
"Medals ordinarily serve to commemorate accomplished facts; may this one
serve as prophetic of something yet to occur! I will say no more."
Indeed, he had said enough. He came down from the pulpit amid the
plaudits of an inconsiderable portion of the assembly, and the in
mutterings of a much larger number.
But the general attitude was of stupefied silence.
"Well," said La Renaudie, in a low voice, to Gabriel, "that is clearly
not the right chord to strike. We must try another."
"Monsieur le Baron de Castelnau," he continued aloud, addressing a young
man of thoughtful appearance and handsomely clad, who was leaning
against the wall ten feet from him,--"Monsieur de Castelnau, have you
not a word to say to us?"
"I might perhaps have had nothing to say independently; but I should
like to say a word or two in reply," the young man responded.
"We are all attention," said La Renaudie.
"This young man," he added, speaking in Gabriel's ear again, "belongs to
the party of the nobility; and you should have seen him at the Louvre
the day you brought the news of the capture of Calais. Castelnau is
frank, loyal, and brave. He will set up his flag as boldly as
Lignières, and we shall see if he will be received any more warmly."
Castelnau mounted one of the steps of the rostrum, and spoke from that
slight elevation.
"I will begin," he said, "like the orators who have preceded me. We have
been iniquitously attacked; let us use like weapons to defend ourselves.
Let us do in the open field, amid the panoply of war, what they have
done in parliament among the red robes! But I differ in opinion from
Monsieur de Lignières as to the rest. I, too, have a medal to show you.
Here it is; it is not his. From a distance it seems to you to resemble
the crowns from the royal mint which we carry in our purses, and in
fact, like them, it does bear the stamp of a crowned head; but in lieu
of 'Henricus II, rex Galliæ,' its legend reads, 'Ludovicus XIII., rex
Galliæ.'[3] I have done."
The Baron de Castelnau left his place with his head proudly erect. His
allusion to the Prince de Condé was flagrant. Those who had applauded
Lignières muttered at his words, and vice versa.
But the large majority of those present were still motionless and
speechless between the two minorities.
"What do they want, pray?" Gabriel softly asked La Renaudie.
"I am afraid that they don't want anything," was the baron's reply.
At that moment the advocate Des Avenelles asked a hearing.
"This is their man, I fancy," La Renaudie remarked. "Des Avenelles is my
host when I am in Paris,--an honest and sagacious fellow, but too
cautious, almost to timidity even. His word will be law with them."
Des Avenelles from the beginning justified La Renaudie's prediction.
Said he: "We have listened to many bold and even audacious words; but
has the moment really arrived to utter them? Are we not going a little
too fast? We are shown a very worthy and lofty purpose, but not a word
is said as to the means of attaining it. They must needs be criminal. My
heart is more oppressed by the severities to which we are subjected than
that of any other member of this assemblage. But when we have so many
prejudices to overcome, should we add to the burden by casting upon the
cause of our religion the odium of an assassination?--yes, of an
assassination; for you cannot obtain by any other means the result which
you dare to propose."
Des Avenelles was interrupted by almost unanimous applause.
"What did I say?" whispered La Renaudie. "This advocate is the real
expositor of their views."
Des Avenelles continued,--
"The king is in the very bloom and flower of his vigor. To wrest the
throne from him, he must be hurled headlong from it. What living man
would take upon himself that act of violence? Kings are divine, and God
only has the right to govern them. Ah, suppose that some accident, some
unforeseen ill, some blow struck by a private hand, should take away the
king's life at this moment, and leave the guardianship of an infant
monarch in the hands of those arrogant subjects who are our veritable
oppressors!--then it would be this guardianship, and not royalty itself,
the Guises and not François II., against whom our attacks would be
directed. Civil war would be not only justifiable but laudable, and
revolution a sacred duty, and I would be the first to cry, 'To arms!'"
This energetic moderation moved the assembly to admiration; and fresh
tokens of approbation were showered upon Des Avenelles as a recompense
for his prudent courage.
"Ah!" muttered La Renaudie to Gabriel, "I regret now having asked you to
come, for you will begin to compassionate us."
But Gabriel, lost in thought, was saying to himself,--
"No, I have no right to reproach them for their weakness, for it is much
like my own. While I was secretly relying upon them, they seem to have
been relying upon me."
"What do you mean to do, pray?" cried La Renaudie to his triumphant
host.
"To maintain a legal attitude and wait!" replied the advocate, firmly.
"Anne Dubourg, Henri Dufaur, and three others of our friends in
parliament have been arrested; but who says that they will dare to
convict them, or even to accuse them? My opinion is that any overt act
of violence on our part would result simply in provoking reprisals on
the part of those in authority. And who knows that our moderation may
not be the salvation of the victims? Let us have the tranquillity of
conscious strength, and the dignity which befits a righteous cause. Let
us leave all the wrong-doing to our persecutors. Let us wait. When they
see that we are moderate in our demands, but resolute, they will think
twice before declaring war upon us,--just as I implore you, friends and
brothers, to think twice before you give them the signal for reprisals."
Des Avenelles ceased, and the applause was renewed.
The advocate, vain of his success, desired to confirm his victory.
"Let all who agree with me raise their hand," he added.
Almost every hand was raised to assure Des Avenelles that he had spoken
the mind of the gathering.
"Let us see, then," said he: "our decision is--"
"To decide nothing at all," interposed Castelnau.
"To postpone until a more favorable moment any extreme measures," Des
Avenelles concluded, casting an angry glance at the interrupter.
The minister David suggested singing another psalm to beseech God to
deliver the poor prisoners.
"Come, let us be going," said La Renaudie to Gabriel; "all this annoys
and angers me. These people only know how to sing. They have nothing
seditious but their psalms."
When they were on the street they walked along in silence, both deeply
absorbed in their reflections.
At the Pont Notre Dame they parted, La Renaudie returning to the
Faubourg St. Germain, and Gabriel going toward the Arsenal.
"Adieu, Monsieur d'Exmès," said the former. "I am sorry to have caused
you to waste your time thus. But believe me, I pray, when I assure you
that this is not our last word. The prince, Coligny, and some of our
most reliable heads were absent this evening."
"My time with you has not been wasted," replied Gabriel. "You will be
convinced of that very shortly."
"So much the better, so much the better," rejoined La Renaudie.
"Nevertheless, doubt--"
"Have no doubt at all," said Gabriel. "It was necessary for me to know
if the Protestants were really beginning to lose patience. It is of more
use to me than you can imagine to have learned that they are not tired
out yet."
[Footnote 1: "Ye men of wrath, why thus conspire ye
To wage mad war against your Saviour Christ,
By showing favor to this Anti-Christ,
Till ye yourselves shall persecutors be?
Ye doers of evil,
The works of the Devil,
You thus are upholding:
And with impious hands
From the Lord's high commands
Are the people withholding."]
[Footnote 2: "No longer now, with loud unseemly noise,
Seek to delay the utterance of the word
Of the great King of Kings, our God the Lord!
Else shall His malediction from the skies,
Upon ye descending,
To woe never-ending
In hell's darkest recess
Consign ye, to languish
In torment and anguish
Your sins to redress."]
[Footnote 3: These two rare and curious medals are to be seen to-day
in the "Cabinet des Médailles."]