TRIAL BY FIRE.
Day was far spent before I got back, my horse having gone lame. There
seemed unusual disturbance in the town; I distinguished a distant hum of
many voices, and all at once a shrill cry that made me shudder, followed
by the passionate wailing of children, and the incessant barking of
dogs. I took the back way to our house, where lay our stable, and
entering the little yard, saw to my dismay six or eight cavalry horses
standing in it. I sprang from my cart and hurried into the house, on the
threshold of which my little brother Charles met me all in tears, and
cried, "Oh, they're burning mamma!"
I burst into the kitchen; there was a roaring fire on the hearth, which
a dragoon was feeding with handfuls of paper torn from our great family
Bible; but there were also great billets of wood burning, which threw
out intense heat, and close in front of it was placed my mother, penned
in with heavy pieces of furniture, while two dragoons in front of her
were thrusting their clenched fists in her face, saying, "Now then, you
obstinate woman! will you roast like a pig, or say where he is gone?"
My mother looked immovable as stone, but directly I entered, I saw her
change countenance a little. My father lay on the ground, bound hand and
foot, while a dragoon was preparing to beat him with a heavy bridle.
"Ah, ah, here is the young cub," cried they as I entered; "here is the
young fellow that was attending on his uncle!" Then, with more bad
language than I choose to repeat, they bade me tell where I had carried
him, unless I would see my mother roasted alive.
"Out of your reach," said I, boldly; "so now let my mother go free," and
springing towards her, I released her before they could throw themselves
upon me. The next minute, we were rolling on the ground, but, as my
mother for the moment was safe, I did not mind the blows I was getting,
but returned them with a fire-iron that lay within reach. I dealt blows
with such a will that for a time I had the advantage, never ceasing to
shout, "Never fear, mother! All's safe! he's on the wide sea. Fly with
the children and leave me to deal with these gentry."
This so enraged them that they redoubled their violence; no wonder,
then, that I was got down at last, bound hand and foot, and my feet made
bare to receive the bastinado. Before they laid it on, they put the
question to me:
"Wilt thou now, then, recant thine accursed doctrines?"
"What doctrines?" said I, to gain time.
"Those that are falsely called reformed."
"Oh yes, all that are falsely called reformed."
They stood at pause on this, and looked at one another.
"He gives in," muttered one.
"Not a bit," replied another. "He is only lying."
"Well but, mark you, that's no matter of ours," said the first.
"I tell you it is!" roared the second, pushing him aside. "Let me take
him in hand. You don't know how to question him." Then accosting me, in
a defiant sort of way (he was far from sober), he said,
"Hark ye, young man. Now answer for your life. Give us no double
meanings. What is your religion?"
"That which was brought us and taught us by our Lord Jesus Christ."
"Do you believe in St. Peter?"
"Of course."
"And in the Virgin Mother of God?"
"The angel Gabriel called her blessed among women."
"But do you worship her?"
"I reverence her, and worship her Divine Son."
"Do you worship her, I say?" threatening me with the stirrup-leather.
"Son, son," put in my father.
"Silence, old man!" and they hit him on the mouth.
"Do you worship her?"
"I do not."
Then they beat the soles of my feet, till my father in anguish cried,
"Oh, I cannot bear this--" but had to bear it. And so had I. But on
their burning my soles with a red-hot iron, a merciful Providence took
me out of their hands, by bringing me insensibility. How long they
pursued their barbarities after I fainted, I know not; but when I came
to myself, it was in cold and darkness, lying in the open street, where
I suppose they had cast me, thinking me dead. How long a time must have
passed! for the stars were shining above me. Where were my parents, my
brothers and sisters? I tried to raise myself a little and look around,
but was beaten and bruised so that I was in agonies of pain, and sank
back on the ground. The cold made my wounded feet smart indescribably;
but while, with closed eyes, I was inwardly murmuring, "Lord, help thy
poor servant, for I cannot help myself;" something that made me wince
with pain, but the next moment gave exquisite relief, was applied to
the soles of my feet, and the next instant I heard the hushed voices of
those who were dearest to me on earth, my mother and Madeleine "Can it
be that we are too late?" said Madeleine. "No, his pulse yet beats,
though as feebly as possible. Oh, what he must have suffered, and how
I love him for not having given in!"
In pain though I was, a smile of joy broke over my face on this, and
I opened my eyes.
"Praise the Lord, he revives!" said my mother. "How art thou, my son?"
"I shall do well, my mother--," but I could not speak another word.
I closed my eyes, and felt about to faint.
"Jacques, dear Jacques," said Madeleine, whispering energetically and
distinctly, close to my ear, "be of good courage, and God will help
thee. I have found a place of safety in the vaults of Les Arènes,
whither Gabrielle has already taken the children; and now, if you can
but master the pain enough to get there with such help as we can give
you, before the dragoons return, we shall all be safe."
"Oh, most certainly I will," said I, trying to rise; but when I
attempted to set my feet to the ground, I was in such anguish that
I nearly fell down; but what will not "needs must" effect? The poor
galley-slaves at Marseilles and Dunkirk can tell how, when it seems
impossible for them to pull another stroke, the taskmaster's whip,
mercilessly applied, proves that they not only can pull still, but pull
well too. I am ashamed to say how these two beloved women had almost to
carry me, a stout youth; and even all their strength might have been
insufficient but for the potent spur of the dragoons' return. With an
arm round the neck of each, and resting almost my entire weight on their
shoulders, I managed to scuffle along, very slowly and with fearful
pain, towards Les Arènes. We paused now and then, under the deep shadow
of a wall, for me to regain my strength. I was astonished at my mother's
utter forgetfulness of herself in her care for me; and said, "Were you
much burnt, my mother?"
"No, my son; no," she answered, cheerfully; but in truth she was sadly
seared and blistered, and her heroism under suffering might be likened
to that of the martyrs of old.
"What took place after I fainted?" said I.
"They believed you were dead, and threw you into the road," said my
mother, "saying they hoped the dogs would come and lick your blood like
Ahab's. After that a trumpet was blown, and there seemed something going
on in the town, and they all ran off. The children had meanwhile taken
refuge with Madeleine; and I then took the opportunity of raising your
father, after cutting his bonds, and sending him off to the factory,
whence he was to return with men to carry you away, but they have never
come, and I fear some mischief may have befallen him. I would fain have
gone to see, but you were my first object. I could not carry you, and
went to Madeleine for help. She had just gone with Gabrielle and the
children to Les Arènes; but while I was preparing bandages and a
liniment for your poor feet, she returned and accompanied me back."
"Madeleine is a good angel," said I, pressing my arm more closely to
her.
"What is your case to-day, may be ours to-morrow," said she.
We continued our painful and tedious course, "lurking in the thievish
corners of the streets," like evil-doers, if we saw any one coming. The
moon was dangerously bright, but the shadows were proportionately dark,
and at length we reached Les Arènes, with their depths of mysterious
shadow, and solemn pillars and arches silvered by the white beams.
Though the amphitheatre is in the heart of the city, the neighborhood
seemed unusually deserted. People had fled, or were cowering in
hiding-places, or were flocking to see what was going on elsewhere.
I cannot otherwise account for it. Only that as we passed near the
house of good old Monsieur de Laccassagne, we could hear the abominable
uproar of drums within it, and it would seem as if all the drummers in
Nismes must have been congregated to drive the poor old gentleman to
distraction. We had also seen in the distance, floods of light streaming
from the windows of the cathedral, and heard a strange murmur of cries,
and we afterwards learnt that multitudes of poor people of the baser
sort had been driven like oxen or silly sheep into the church, pricked
on by the dragoons' swords and shouts of "Kill! kill!" to be present
at mass.
But now, as we gained a spot where, at the end of a street, we could
gain a distant glimpse of our factory, we perceived the sky red with
flurid flames bursting from it.
"The factory is on fire!" I exclaimed.
Then my mother wrung her hands, crying, "Oh, my husband! you are ruined,
perhaps sacrificed! I must go in quest of thee, and leave my son with a
faithful friend."
Then she hastened off towards the factory, and I could not blame her
nor wonder at her, though my heart misgave me that she might fall into
mischief.
Madeleine's support was insufficient for me now; but I set my teeth like
a flint, and commanded the pain I was in every time I set foot to the
ground. Was it not alleviation enough to have her dear arm for my stay,
and her tender hand wiping from my brow the drops forced forth by my
suffering?
Then we came to some steps. These gave me much trouble to descend,
especially as we were so nearly in the dark, but Madeleine seemed to
know them pretty well.
"I have often been here already," whispered she, "only not after dark,
and have laid in stores of many things necessary for our subsistence."
We were now groping along a chill stone passage, and were presently
brought up by a wall right in front, against which we violently hit
our heads.
"I fear I have missed the way," said Madeleine, in alarm. "Hark! I hear
the children laughing. Nothing damps the spirits at their age."
The next turn brought us to the entrance of a chamber, or rather den,
for it had probably been built for wild beasts, and formerly tenanted
by them. A ruddy fire burned in the middle, and circles of smoke escaped
through crannies and fissures, for of course there was no chimney.
A savory steam arose from a large black pot suspended over this fire,
and round it was gathered a motley and unruly group, not Gabrielle and
the children, but of tramps, gipsies, peddlers, and very likely thieves.
Swarthy Morescoes, Basques, I know not how many nations, were there
represented. They were singing, carousing, and making much noise.
"Here's a pretty lady," cried a gipsy woman, as Madeleine shrank back
affrighted.
"Welcome, welcome!" cried one or two voices. "Come and make one of us."
"Not so fast," said a dissentient voice. "There's a young man with her.
How do we know he is not a spy?"
"Good sir, I am lame on both feet," said I, and was turning away with
Madeleine, both of us anxious to plunge into the darkness, out of their
sight, when a threatening, swarthy man, of great strength, prevented our
departure.
"You are neither of you going," said he, defiantly, "till you give some
account of yourselves and your object."
"We are harmless people; we have only mistaken our way," interposed
Madeleine.
"Soho! Only mistaken your way? And how come harmless people to be abroad
at this time of night, groping about among the vaults of Les Arènes?"
Before there was time to answer, a tall, lean man in black, with a
bottle in his hand, which he had just removed from his lips, came
forward from a corner, and said. "Hold, there, enough has been said.
I know this young man, and, I dare say, this young maiden. We are
very good friends. Don't you remember me?" looking sharply at me.
"Not exactly," said I, straining my memory.
"Oh, come, don't deny it. Last time you had the best of it; this time
I have. Don't you remember the Fair of Beaucaire?"
"Yes, of course, sir," said Madeleine, readily, "and your beautiful
needles and pins and pretty equipage."
The needle-vender looked pleased, and said, "You have a better memory
than the young fellow; however, I owe him a good turn. You saved me from
the hoofs of le Docteur Jameray's horse, and lent me your handkerchief.
I have had it in keeping for you ever since," drawing it from his
breast. Then, turning to his companions, he said, "Excuse me; I attend
these young persons a little way. They are friends, and the young man
is ill."
In fact, my head swam round, and I swooned again, and have no
remembrance but of a confused babble of sounds. When I came to,
Madeleine and the needle-seller, whose name was La Croissette, were
conveying me between them; or, in fact, he was chiefly carrying me, and
she supporting my feet. I said, "Set me down, I'll try to walk," but
found I could not. Then she said, "Wait here; I'll run on a little, and
find where Gabrielle is."
I would have stayed her, but she was gone. La Croissette said, "You seem
in trouble; what is it?"
I said, "Don't you know the dragoons are in Nismes? They have tried to
burn my mother, have bound and beaten my father, destroyed our property,
and cudgelled and burnt me till I cannot stand."
He drew in his breath, and said, "Any one of those things is trouble
enough. Is that pretty girl your sister?"
"No; my affianced wife."
"And you have taken to Les Arènes for safety, and left your father and
mother behind?"
"Not willingly, you may be sure. My mother and Madeleine half carried me
hither. Then we saw my father's silk factory in flames, and she ran to
find him."
Madeleine here returned, and said, encouragingly, "I have found where
they are; it is a very little way, and they look so comfortable!"
With her help and La Croissette's I dragged myself along, and though it
seemed a long way off, we got there at last; and very snug did the old
vault look, with the little brazier and the lamp, and the curtain to
keep off the draught, and food and bedding on the floor. I sank down on
the straw they had prepared for me, and never was couch of down more
grateful to a luxurious man than this poor pallet to me. La Croissette
viewed the whole party with keenness, then, putting his bottle to my
lips, said, "Take this; there's a little left." Whatever it was, it
revived me; and then he nodded, said "Bon soir," and went away.
I now became anxious for my parents, though Madeleine assured me they
knew the way to our retreat. A long time passed; the children fell
asleep; we remained in anxious suspense. At length we heard footsteps.
Were they of friend or foe? Madeleine went out to see. I could not bear
her taking on herself every office that ought to devolve upon me, but
could not help it. In a few instants she guided my father and mother
into our dungeon, holding a hand of each. As they entered, the red
fire-light leaped up and showed their grave faces. The first thing my
father did, after taking us in at a glance, was to say, "Children, let
us pray!"
Even the little ones, roused from their slumber, and but half awake,
put up their hands. My mother and the girls knelt; my father stood.
His prayer began with earnest thanksgiving that we were all together
again, and that, though his worldly substance had been taken from him,
there was no loss of life or limb. Then he returned hearty thanks that,
in this our day of spiritual trial and temptation, there had been no
apostacy, no temporizing cowardice, no falling short. But, he added,
he knew, and we all knew, that this was but the beginning of sorrows;
that many a sore trial and temptation remained behind; that we had
no strength of our own wherewith to meet it; but that there was
all-sufficient strength in the great Captain of our salvation. Then
he prayed the Lord to give us his strength, sufficient for our day,
whatever it might be, even as He had strengthened Daniel in the lions'
den, and Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in the fiery furnace, and Peter
and Paul and Silas in prison, and John in Patmos; and that we might have
grace to rejoice at being accounted worthy to suffer for his name's
sake, and be strengthened to bear testimony even before kings if need
were; and to cast all our burden upon Him, not caring much for the
things of this life, knowing that he could reduplicate them if it
were his will, at any time, as he had done to Job.
While he thus prayed, an ineffable calm and sweetness took possession of
me, my eyes involuntarily closed, or, if opened at intervals, only saw
vague, uncertain forms, and thus a deep, deep sleep fell on me, without
even a dream, that lulled all sense of pain, and loss, and fear, and
sorrow, until morning.
"For so he giveth his beloved sleep." Words how beautiful, and true, and
reassuring! They that expend all their little strength for him, and lay
their little substance at his feet, are his beloved. There is no need
to be afraid we are not; we know it; we feel it; we have the witness in
ourselves, just as the child, nestling in his father's arms, knows that
he loves and is beloved. I have heard persons say, "Have you the faith
of assurance?" Yes, thank God, I have it, and have had it ever since He
was first graciously pleased to call me to Him, and that was long, long
ago. But all have not this faith; just as a man, wanting to go to
Bordeaux, may not be assured he is on the road to Bordeaux, and yet he
may be on the way thither nevertheless. Then if you have not the faith
of assurance, practise at least the faith of adherence. That, at least,
is in your own power. Cleave to God exactly as if you were certain of
being accepted by Him at last; and thus, fulfilling his own conditions,
you will be accepted by Him whether you are assured of it beforehand or
not. "Him that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out."