Precisely at noon the procession was finished. The curés, the choristers,
the beadles, the women, children, townspeople, and pilgrims, mingled
together, re-entered Haslach—some to sit down to a good dinner moistened
with white wine, beer, and coffee; others to eat their provisions on the
corner of a fountain, or on the stone bench outside a public-house.
The illustrious philosopher felt that the time to preach was come.
Coucou Peter, coming into the dining-room, said to him—
“Master, sit down at the head of the table; I’ll place myself on your
right hand, to sustain the doctrine.”
Frantz Mathéus seated himself at the place pointed out to him by his
disciple, at the head of the table, in front of the windows.
The room was very quickly filled by a crowd of people, come from all
parts of Alsace and Lorraine—all worthy peasants who lodged at the Three
Roses, and thought nothing of thirty sous for a good dinner. There were
also some mountaineers, amongst whom were Dame Thérèse and Hans Aden;
these seated themselves on the right of Coucou Peter, who took in his
left hand the large horn-handled carving-knife and fork to cut up the
joints.
Soup having been served, the dinner began in silence.
Dame Thérèse, with her child upon her knees, appeared very happy in being
near Coucou Peter, who attended to her with the greatest care, and gave
her the nicest pieces.
Now the news of Mathéus and his miracle having spread through Haslach,
people from all quarters hastened to the Three Roses, and stared into the
dining-room through the windows, demanding to see the prophet. Mother
Jacob, from the doorstep, told them all that had happened, and the
servants, left alone, were hardly able to serve the dinner. Katel hurried
round the table, arranging the dishes, removing the plates, and replacing
the emptied bottles; while Orchel brought the dishes from the kitchen.
The dining-room became more and more animated; the convives, ignorant of
the sublime mission of the illustrious philosopher, chatted together on
indifferent matters—of the fair, the harvest, the coming vintage. They
ate, laughed, drank, called to the servants, who rushed up and down the
winding stairs with dishes of sauer-kraut, saveloys, smoking sausages,
roast legs of mutton, ducks swimming in their own gravy, and little
sucking-pigs covered with beautiful golden-yellow crackling.
In the midst of this joyous animation, Maître Frantz thought he heard
these prophetic words:—“Honour! glory! Honour to the great Mathéus!
Eternal glory to the inventor of the peregrination of souls! Glory!
glory! honour! glory! Honour to the great Mathéus! Eternal glory to the
inventor of the peregrination of souls!” And in mute ecstasy he leaned
back in his chair, dropped his fork, and listened to these far-off
voices; but, in truth, this was but the effect of the Eckersthal wine and
the noisy hum of the room.
It was about two o’clock, and the moment for the dessert had arrived—that
moment when everybody speaks at once and nobody listens, when every one
thinks himself witty, and first one and then another laughs, without
knowing why.
At that moment the illustrious Doctor rose at the end of the table,
and gravely began to explain the transformation of bodies and the
peregrination of souls. He spoke calmly and said—
“Justice is the law of the universe; being, from the beginning of time,
was subjected to the law of justice; all things have been made by it, and
nothing that has been made has been made without it. It was life, and
life was will; and will animated matter, whence came plants, whence came
animals, whence came man!
“There was a man sent by Heaven, named Pythagoras: he came into the
world, and the world has not understood him—his doctrines have not been
understood!”
Thus spoke the illustrious philosopher, and all present listened in
astonishment at his wisdom. But amongst the number there was an old
Anabaptist named Pelsly, a God-fearing man; and this venerable person was
outraged by the doctrine of the illustrious philosopher. So, raising one
of his fingers with an inspired air, he cried—
“Now, the Spirit says expressly, that in the time to come some will
abandon the faith, following erring minds and diabolical doctrines,
taught by impostors filled with hypocrisy, and with consciences darkened
by crime!”
Having pronounced these words he relapsed into silence. Everybody felt
that he referred to Frantz Mathéus.
The illustrious philosopher turned pale, for he heard a murmur rise about
him. Coucou Peter became as red as a burning coal.
But quickly recovering all his strength, Maître Frantz responded—
“Oh! impostors and unbelievers, dare you really deny that Justice should
be the law of the world? Were not all beings equal before some had
advanced by merit? If they had not existed before being born, why all the
differences among them? Why should one be born as a plant, another as a
man, or an animal? Why should one be born rich, another poor, stupid or
intelligent? Where would be the justice of God, if all these differences
did not come from merit or demerit in anterior existences?”
The Anabaptist, far from allowing himself to be vanquished by this
invincible argument, once again raised his long skinny finger, and said—
“Flee from impertinent and puerile fables, and exercise yourself in
piety; for piety is of use to all, since to it have been promised the
means of present and future life. What I say to you is a certain truth,
and worthy to be received with entire submission; for that which enables
us to bear ills and outrages is that we hope in the living God, who is
the Saviour of all men, but principally of the faithful.”
At these words the persons assembled appeared greatly disturbed, and
Mathéus saw afresh threatening looks turned towards him. The illustrious
philosopher, in this critical position, raised his eyes towards heaven,
and cried—
“Being of Beings! O Great Demiourgos! Thou whose powerful will and
immutable justice govern all souls, deign—deign to enlighten this mind,
obscured by the veil of error and of prejudice!”
But the Anabaptist Pelsly, furious at this, cried—
“Is it not you, Spirit of Darkness, who seeks to obscure our
intelligence? Is it not written: ‘If any one teach a doctrine different
to this, and embrace not the doctrine according to piety, he is puffed up
with pride, and he knows nothing; he is possessed of an evil mind, which
carries him into questions and combats of words, which give birth to
envy, contestation, scandal, and evil suspicions?’”
The illustrious Doctor knew no more what to answer, when Coucou Peter
plunged into the dispute; for he had sold Bibles and almanacs, and knew
as much about the Scriptures as the Anabaptist.
“But,” cried he, striking the table with his fist, and looking at the
Anabaptist with glaring eyes—“but ‘there is nothing hidden which may
not be discovered, nothing secret which may not be found out; for that
which you have said in the darkness shall be published in the light, and
that which you have whispered in chambers shall be proclaimed from the
housetop!’ I say to you, then, Pelsly, hypocrite that you are!—‘You can
discern the face of the sky and of the earth; but how is it that you do
not discern this time? And why even of yourself judge you not what is
right?’”
Coucou Peter had hardly finished speaking these words when a great tumult
was heard within the house, and everybody looked at one another, asking—
“What is the matter?—what is the meaning of all this noise?”
Now it was old Margredel, the paralytic wife of Nikel Schouler the
weaver, who, having been told of the miracles performed by the
illustrious philosopher, had come to be cured. The poor woman, seated in
her large arm-chair, which she had not quitted for two years, was carried
on the shoulders of four pilgrims. A crowd pressed about her, crying—
“Courage, Margredel! Courage!”
Margredel smiled sadly, for she believed in the prophet, and already felt
life stirring within her.
On arriving in front of the Three Roses, Mother Jacob, who had seen her
coming, opened the outer folding-doors—then that of the great dining-room.
Poor Margredel, such as her malady had made her, was then seen, pale,
emaciated, raising her thin hands supplicatingly, and crying—
“Save me, Mr. Prophet!—deign to cast a look upon your humble servant!”
And the crowd pressed into the passage, against the windows, and even
into the room, repeating the same words. The confusion was extreme.
Seeing this, Coucou Peter wished to make his escape; for he had no
confidence in the miracles of the doctrine, and was afraid of being
stoned if his master did not cure the poor woman.
The illustrious philosopher, however, far from feeling any doubt, had
such confidence in his mission, he at once said to himself that the
Being of Beings had sent this unfortunate creature for the purpose of
enabling him to give to the universe a shining proof of the truths of
Anthropo-Zoology. Penetrated with this confidence, he rose and advanced
towards Margredel, who watched his approach with wide-open eyes. The
crowd made way for him, and Maître Frantz having arrived in front of the
paralytic, looked at her with great tenderness, and said to her, in the
midst of the most profound silence—
“Woman! have you confidence in the Being of Beings—in His infinite
goodness?”
Raising her eyes to heaven, Margredel replied, in a feeble voice—
“God, who sees into all hearts, knows how truly I believe.”
“Well, then,” cried Mathéus, firmly, “faith has saved you! Rise up—you
are cured!”
At these words, which came from his soul, all present trembled to the
very marrow of their bones. Margredel felt an extraordinary strength pass
into all her limbs; she made an effort—rose—and then fell upon her knees,
weeping, at the feet of Mathéus.
“I am saved!” she cried; “I am saved!”
It was an affecting sight to see this poor woman at the good man’s
feet, who, smiling kindly upon her, lifted her up and kissed her on her
shrunken cheeks, saying—
“That’s well—that’s well; return to your dwelling.”
Which she did immediately, crying—
“My poor children!—my poor children! I shall no longer be a burden on
you!”
Maître Frantz then turned towards the company, and said calmly—
“It was God’s will—who dares to deny the power of God?”
These words struck all present with admiration, and Coucou Peter himself
was so overcome by what he had seen and heard, that, in his bewilderment,
he could not move from his chair, and cried, in a tremulous voice—
“Master! I am not worthy to untie the strings of your shoes! Master! you
are a great prophet, a true prophet! Have pity on your poor disciple
Coucou Peter—a being sensual and full of defects—who has doubted you!”
The Anabaptist alone was unconvinced; he tore his skirts and left the
room, crying—
“And in that day he raised up false prophets, who performed great
prodigies and things astonishing, even to the seduction, if possible, of
the elect themselves!”
But the crowd would not listen to him, and did not cease to praise Maître
Frantz for the wonders he had accomplished.