It was thus that the illustrious Doctor Mathéus, knowing the power of
will, exhibited the greatness of the Being of Beings.
Margredel returned to her home, and the crowd proclaimed the miracle
throughout Haslach. Her neighbours, and those who saw her afterwards
seated at her door, said—
“Isn’t that Margredel, the paralytic, seated on her doorstep warming
herself in the sun?”
Some answered—“Yes, it is her.” Others said—“No, it’s some one else, like
her.” But she cried—“It’s myself! The prophet at the Three Roses has
cured me!”
People from all quarters hurried to the Three Roses; they abandoned the
churches to go and see and hear the prophet.
Frantz Mathéus stood at one of the dining-room windows, watching this
spectacle, and enjoying indescribable pleasure.
“O Great Demiourgos,” he cried to himself, “I thank Thee! I thank Thee
for having permitted me to live until this day! Frantz Mathéus may now
die; he has seen the triumph of Anthropo-Zoology!”
Meanwhile, the Anabaptist Pelsly had gone to the Mayor of Haslach to
denounce the illustrious philosopher.
Monsieur George Brenner, the mayor, was seated at table, surrounded by
his friends, celebrating the Fair Sunday with gaiety and feasting, when
the Anabaptist entered.
The Anabaptist related, calmly and truthfully, the prodigious
circumstances that had taken place.
“These men,” he said, “having known God, have not glorified Him as God,
and have not rendered thanks to Him; but they have bewildered themselves
in their vain reasonings, and their senseless hearts have become filled
with darkness. They have lost their wits by attributing to themselves
the name of sages; they have transferred the honour which belongs truly
to the incorruptible God to the image of a corruptible man, and to the
figures of animals, fourfooted beasts, and reptiles; wherefore God has
given them up to the desires of their hearts, to the vices of impurity;
so that by plunging into these they have dishonoured their own bodies,
put falsehood in the place of God’s truth, and rendered unto the creature
adoration and sovereign worship, instead of rendering them unto the
Creator, who is blessed in all ages!”
Thus spoke Pelsly the Anabaptist; and the mayor, striking the table
before him, cried—
“What is it you tell me? Are such things possible?”
“Come and see for yourself,” replied the Anabaptist.
The mayor rose, and left his wife, children, and friends in a very ill
temper; for since the return of the procession he had not been able to
enjoy a single moment’s repose, and several persons had already spoken
to him about the miracles—not that of Margredel, but that which had been
wrought in Mother Jacob’s kitchen.
On reaching the Rue du Tonnelet Rouge he found much difficulty in
proceeding, so great was the crowd of people shouting—
“Glory! Honour to the prophet!”
In the distance the illustrious Doctor was to be seen at the window,
surrounded by Coucou Peter, tall Hans Aden, and all the guests of the
Three Roses, eloquently haranguing the crowd.
The mayor succeeded in forcing his way through the mob, however, and
Coucou Peter suddenly caught sight of him ascending the steps of the
public-house.
This was a terrible shock to the brave fiddler, for he at once saw that
the doctrine was about to incur a great danger.
Maître Frantz was still speaking when the mayor entered the dining-room,
and then the Anabaptist, pointing to the illustrious philosopher, accused
him in these terms:—
“As it is through you, Mr. Mayor, that we enjoy profound peace, and
because several highly salutary orders have been given by your wise
foresight, we accuse this man of being the leader of a seditious sect,
of bringing division and trouble into this town, of teaching false
doctrines, and of performing miracles.”
Astonished at hearing this accusation pronounced in a loud and solemn
tone of voice, Frantz Mathéus turned, and seeing the mayor girt with his
official scarf, was terrified.
“By whom have you been permitted to perform miracles and preach in
public?” demanded the mayor.
The illustrious philosopher was at first unable to answer; but after a
few seconds he recovered his courage, and said, with deep indignation—
“Since when has permission been required to teach the truth? Oh, horrible
profanation, worthy of the most rigorous chastisement and of the
execration of ages! Had Pythagoras, Socrates, Plato, and many others,
need of permission to teach their doctrines? Were they not followed by
their disciples, surrounded by the respect, admiration, and enthusiasm of
entire peoples?”
Bewildered by this tirade, the mayor looked at the good man for a few
moments, and then said—
“It’s fortunate for you that we have no communal prison, otherwise I
would have had you taken to it at once, to teach you to speak with
respect to a magistrate wearing his scarf. I give you twenty minutes to
take yourself out of this town, and if you stay here one second longer,
I’ll have you marched to Saverne between two gendarmes.”
The guests all looked at one another in amazement, and Coucou Peter,
turning to the Anabaptist, who triumphed in his turn, said to him, in a
tone of disdainful eloquence—
“It is said, ‘They will deliver you to the magistrates to be tormented,
and you will be banished on account of justice.’”
And those present, not less indignant than the disciple of Mathéus, would
have fallen upon the Anabaptist but for the presence of the mayor.
The illustrious philosopher had had time to recover himself, however; and
as his heart swelled with pain in thinking that he was about to lose the
fruit of so many efforts and sacrifices, he resolved to defend himself.
“Mr. Mayor,” he said, with forced calmness—“Mr. Mayor, I shall with more
confidence attempt to justify myself, knowing that for several years you
have governed this province. You can without difficulty ascertain that I
have not been more than one day in Haslach, and that this Anabaptist has
not found me disputing with anybody, nor getting the people together,
either in the churches, the temples, or in the public places. He is not
able to prove one of the charges he has brought against me. It is true,
and I admit it before you, that I serve the God of Pythagoras, hoping in
Him as the Anabaptist himself hopes, and knowing Him as he knows Him.
For this it is that I labour incessantly, to preserve my conscience
exempt from reproaches; and as it commands me to spread the light by all
possible means, I have set forth with this honourable purpose, quitting
the roof of my fathers, my friends, and all that is dearest to me in the
world, to fulfil my duties. Allow me, then, to remain in this place only
one day longer—I ask no more—to convert the whole town to the truths of
Anthropo-Zoology.”
“The more reason why you should be sent away at once,” interrupted
the mayor; “instead of twenty minutes, I’ll not allow you more than
ten.” Turning to the Anabaptist, “Pelsly,” he said, “go and fetch the
gendarmes.”
At these words Frantz Mathéus felt his hare nature gain the upper hand.
“Oh, Mr. Mayor, Mr. Mayor!” he cried, his eyes filling with tears,
“posterity will severely judge you!”
He went from the room in silence.
For some few moments all present were saddened by this scene. Coucou
Peter’s eyes wandered dolefully over the table, and he did not know what
course to take. Suddenly he drew himself up, and in a loud tone cried—
“Posterity will severely judge you, Mr. Mayor! So much the worse for you.”
This said, he cocked his hat upon his ear, crossed his hands behind his
back, and walked majestically out by the same door as Maître Frantz.
After the departure of Coucou Peter there was a great uproar. Jacob
Fischer, a sensual man and naturally covetous of money, recollected that
Coucou Peter and Mathéus had lodged in the outhouse, that they had given
Bruno two feeds of oats, and that they had not only themselves dined at
thirty sous apiece, but that Hans Aden and Thérèse had dined also at
their expense.
He hurried after Coucou Peter, therefore, crying—
“Stop! stop! You are not going off in that manner, without paying.”
Everybody followed the landlord, impressed by a singular curiosity to see
what further was going to happen.
On reaching the steps into the yard, they saw Maître Frantz coming from
the outhouse, leading Bruno by the bridle, and behind him Coucou Peter,
with the saddle, valise, and other things, hastening to get all ready for
departure, for he apprehended that an attempt might be made to detain
them.
Jacob Fischer uttered an exclamation of indignation, and sprang down the
steps four at a time.
“You are not going off so!” he cried. “I shall detain this horse as
security.”
And, filled with anger, he tried to stop Bruno; but Coucou Peter,
pushing him back roughly, seized a stick from behind the stable door, and
exclaimed—
“Stand back! There is nothing in common between you and me!”
Jacob Fischer hung on to the bridle, and Mathéus said gently—
“Put back your stick behind the door, my dear disciple—put this stick
back into its place.”
Coucou Peter looked as if he were disinclined to obey; but when he
saw the crowd stream down the steps into the yard, he remembered the
psychological lessons of Oberbronn and gave in.
Almost at the same moment a number of people surrounded the horse,
the illustrious philosopher, and his disciple. Each one related the
occurrence in his own manner, and Mathéus was deeply distressed at
hearing all these cries, speeches, and explanations; for if some
approved, others highly blamed him for wishing to go away without paying.
Among the crowd were Jacob Fischer and his wife, big Orchel and
little Katel, Hans Aden and Dame Thérèse, Kasper-Siébel, the son of
Ludwig-Siébel the blacksmith, Passauf the garde champêtre, in his large
gendarme’s hat, the Anabaptist Pelsly, and the mayor in tri-coloured
scarf. There was a great tumult.
At length the mayor succeeded in obtaining silence, and Jacob Fischer
then stated the case.
“These people,” he said, “owe me for lodging in the outhouse, for four
dinners at thirty sous, and two feeds of oats; that makes seventeen
francs. If they go off, where are they? I know nothing of them. Coucou
Peter never has a sou. I demand that the horse shall be left in pledge.”
Mathéus replied—
“In all times prophets have been furnished with victuals and drink in
the houses of their hosts, who considered themselves fortunate in being
able to entertain them; and when their doors have been closed against
them, they have shaken the dust from their feet and betaken themselves
elsewhere. And I say that such obdurate-hearted men are greatly to be
pitied: it would have been better for them never to have come into
the world, since they do nothing but pain us by the sight of their
iniquities.”
In spite of this eloquent address, neither the mayor nor Jacob Fischer
appeared to be convinced; on the contrary, the publican repeated the
items of his bill: so much for the horse, so much for the illustrious
philosopher and his disciple, so much for their guests; in all, seventeen
francs.
The mayor, seeing that the clamour was increasing, said—
“Jacob, take the horse and retain it as security. They’ll have to go on
foot, that’s all.”
The landlord instantly snatched the bridle from Mathéus’s hands, and the
good man, who was quite unprepared for the shock, nearly fell to the
ground; but he clung to Bruno’s neck, and enfolding it in his arms sobbed
like a child.
“Bruno!—my poor Bruno!” he cried. “They wish to separate you from me—you,
the companion of my toils—you, my best, my only friend! Oh, do not be
so cruel! Bruno! my poor Bruno! what will become of you, far from your
master? They will ill-treat you—they will care nothing for your long
services!”
The tears of the white-headed old man moved all the beholders.
“It _is_ cruel,” they said among themselves, “to take this poor old
man’s horse from him. He’s not dishonest—see how he weeps; it’s only
good-hearted people who love animals in that way!”
Several women, who had come like the others, with their children in their
arms, hurried away, for they could not bear to see it.
Coucou Peter, behind Bruno, hung his head dejectedly; he accused himself
of being the cause of all, and two big tears ran down his red cheeks.
Dame Thérèse wept also; and as everybody was at a stand-still to prevent
the landlord taking away the horse, this good little woman slipped behind
Coucou Peter and put thirty francs into his hand unseen.
“Accept this, Monsieur Coucou Peter, for love of me,” she whispered.
Coucou Peter put the money into his waistcoat-pocket and sobbed more than
ever; then, after a few moments, raising his head, he cried—
“Maître Jacob, I should not have thought this of you!—I should have
thought you would have trusted an honest man! But since it’s as it is,
here is your money—and let go this horse at once, or I’ll split your head
open!”
He seized the stick again from behind the stable-door, and everybody
would have been glad if he had belaboured that wretched publican.
Coucou Peter even repaid Hans Aden, casting upon Thérèse so tender a
look that she felt embarrassed to the bottom of her soul; he also kissed
the child which she held in her arms. Then, in a loud ringing voice, he
cried—
“Forward, Maître Frantz! forward! Men are rascals!”
Mathéus mounted on horseback, Coucou Peter threw open the gate into the
field, and the mayor felt at ease only after seeing them disappear in the
forest of Saverne.
A great uproar then arose in the town; the prophet was called for, and
the crowd demanded miracles!