The Huguenot Part 36

LONDON:

PRINTED FOR

LONGMAN, ORME, BROWN, GREEN, & LONGMANS,

PATERNOSTER-ROW.

1839.

THE HUGUENOT.

CHAPTER I.

THE UNFORESEEN BLOW.

To have judged by the affable and agreeable smile which Louvois bore upon his countenance as he pa.s.sed the young Count de Morseuil in one of the anterooms, a stranger to that minister would have imagined that he was extremely well disposed towards the gentleman whom he was in fact labouring to ruin. No such error, however, could have taken place with regard to the aspect with which the King received the young Count, which, though not frowning and severe, was grave and somewhat stern.

The countenance and conduct of Albert of Morseiul was calm, tranquil, and serene; and Louis, who, intending to cut the interview as short as possible, had risen, could not help saying within himself, "That looks not like the face of a man conscious of crime."

As the King paused while he made this remark to himself, the Count imagined that he waited for him to begin and open the cause of his coming; and, consequently, he said at once, "Sire, I have ventured to intrude upon your Majesty, notwithstanding your intimation that you would send for me when your convenience served, inasmuch as I have matters of some importance to lay before you, which would bear no delay."

"Pray," demanded Louis, "pray, Monsieur de Morseiul, before you proceed further, be so good as to inform me, whether the matters to which you allude refer to yourself or to the state?"

"By no means to myself," replied the Count, who was not altogether satisfied with the King's tone and manner. "They refer entirely to the safety of the state and your Majesty. On my own affairs I would not have presumed to intrude upon you again."

"Very well, then," said the King dryly, "since such is the case, you will be good enough to communicate whatever you may have to say upon such subjects to Monsieur de Louvois, Monsieur de Seignelai, or Monsieur Colbert de Croissy, as the case may be; such being the usual course by which matters of importance are brought to my ears. And now, Monsieur de Morseiul, though I have but a single moment to attend to any thing at this particular time, let me ask you one question,--Is there or is there not any hope of my receiving the great gratification of being enabled to show you as much favour and distinction as I could wish, by your abjuring the heresy in which you have been unfortunately brought up, and seeking repose in the bosom of the Catholic church?"

The Count de Morseiul felt that a crisis in his fate had arrived; but, with the question put to him so simply and straight-forwardly, he felt that he could not evade the decision, and he would not prevaricate even for safety.

"If, Sire," he said, "what your Majesty demands is to know my own opinion upon the subject at this moment--"

"I mean, Sir," said the King, "plainly, Do you believe that there exists a likelihood of your becoming converted to the Catholic faith?"

"I do not believe so, Sire," replied the Count. "With deep and profound respect for your Majesty, with much veneration and regard for Monsieur Bossuet, and with all the advantage of being even now reading some of his works upon religion, I should be deceiving your Majesty, I should be wronging myself, I should be showing myself unworthy of the high opinion which Monsieur de Meaux has expressed of me, if I did not clearly and distinctly state that I see no likelihood whatsoever of my changing opinions instilled into me in infancy."

"Nay, nay," cried the King, considerably moved and struck by the calm, yet respectful dignity of the young Count's demeanour. "Think better of it! In G.o.d's name think better of it! Let me hope that the eloquence of Bossuet will prevail--let me hope that I may yet have the opportunity of conferring upon you all those favours that I am most eager to bestow."

There was an eagerness and sincerity in the King's manner, which affected the Count in turn. "Alas, Sire," he said, "what would I not do to merit the favour of such a King? but still I must not deceive you. Whatever hopes your Majesty is pleased to entertain of my conversion to the established religion of the realm, may be derived from the knowledge--from the powerful grat.i.tude--which your Majesty's generosity and high qualities of every kind must call up in your subjects and your servants; or they may arise from your knowledge of the deep and persuasive eloquence of the Bishop of Meaux: but they must not arise from any thing that I have said, or can say, regarding the state of my mind at this moment."

"I grieve, Monsieur de Morseiul, I grieve bitterly to hear it,"

replied the King; and he then paused, looking down thoughtfully for some moments; after which he added, "Let me remonstrate with you, that nothing may be left undone, which I can do, to justify me in treating you as I could wish. Surely, Monsieur de Morseiul, there can be nothing very difficult to believe in that which so many--nay, I may say all the holiest, the wisest, and the best have believed, since the first preaching of our religion. Surely, the great body of authority which has acc.u.mulated throughout ages, in favour of the Catholic church, is not to be shaken by such men as Luther and Calvin. You yourselves acknowledge that there are--as there must ever be when heavenly things are revealed to earthly understanding--mysteries which we cannot subject to the ordinary test of human knowledge, in the whole scheme of our redemption--you acknowledge it; and yet with faith you believe in those mysteries, rejecting only those which do not suit you, and pretending that the Scripture does not warrant them. But let me ask you, upon what authority we are to rely for the right interpretation of those very pa.s.sages? Is it to be upon the word of two such men as Luther and Calvin, learned though they might be, or on the authority of the church, throughout all ages, supported by the unbia.s.sed opinions of a whole host of the learned and the wise in every century? Are we to rely upon the opinion of two men, originally stirred up by avarice and bad pa.s.sions, in preference to the whole body of saints and martyrs, who have lived long lives of piety and holiness, meditating upon those very mysteries which you reject. I am but a weak and feeble advocate, Monsieur de Morseiul, and should not, perhaps, have raised my voice at all after the eloquence of a Bossuet has failed to produce its effect; but my zealous and anxious wish both to see you reunited to the church, and to show you that favour which such a conversion would justify, have made me say thus much."

The young Count was too prudent by far to enter into any theological discussions with the King, and he, therefore, contented himself with replying, "I fear, Sire, that our belief is not in our own power. Most sincerely do I hope and trust, that, if I be now in the wrong, G.o.d may open my eyes to the truth. At present however----"

"Say no more, Sir! say no more!" said the King, bending his head as a signal that the young n.o.bleman might retire. "I am heartily sorry for your state of mind! I had hoped better things. As to any other information you may have to communicate, you will be pleased to give it to one of the secretaries of state, according to the department to which it naturally refers itself."

The King once more bowed his head, and the Count with a low inclination retired. "I had better go at once to the apartments of Louvois," he thought; "for this affair of Hatreaumont may be already on the eve of bursting forth, and I would fain have the last act of my stay in my native land one of loyalty to the King who drives me forth."

When he reached the open air, then, he turned to the right, to seek the apartments of Louvois; but, ere he reached them, he was met by the Chevalier de Rohan, whom we have already mentioned, who stopped him with a gay and nonchalant air, saying, "Oh, my dear Count, you have made my fortune! The hundred louis that you lent me have brought good luck, and I am now a richer man than I have been for the last twelve months. I won ten thousand franks yesterday."

"And, doubtless, will lose them again today," answered the Count. "I wish to Heaven you would change this life--but, my dear Chevalier, I must hasten on, for I am on business."

"When shall I have an hour to talk with you, Count?" exclaimed the Chevalier de Rohan, still detaining him. "I want very much to explain to you my plan for raising myself--I am down low enough, certainly, just now."

"When next we meet, Chevalier--when next we meet!" said the Count, smiling as he thought of his approaching departure. "I am in great haste now."

But ere he could disengage himself from the hold of the persevering Chevalier de Rohan, he felt a hand laid gently upon his arm, and turning round, saw a gentleman whose face was not familiar to him.

"Monsieur le Comte de Morseiul, I believe," said the stranger; and, on the Count bowing his head, he went on. "I have to apologise for interrupting your conversation; but I have a word for your private ear of some importance."

The Chevalier de Rohan had by this time turned away, with a nod of the head; and the Count replied to the other, "I am in some haste, Sir.

Pray, what may be your pleasure?"

"I have an unpleasant task to perform towards you, Monsieur de Morseiul," said the stranger; "but it is my wish to execute it as gently and delicately as possible. My orders are to arrest and convey you to the Bastille."

The Count de Morseiul felt that painful tightening of the heart which every man, thus suddenly stopped in the full career of liberty, and destined to be conveyed to long and uncertain imprisonment, to be shut out from all the happy sounds and sights of earth, to be debarred all the sweet intercourses of friendship and affection, has felt and must feel. At the same time all the various points of anxiety and difficulty in his situation rushed through his mind with such rapidity as to turn him dizzy with the whirling numbers of such painful thoughts. Clemence de Marly, whose hand was to have been his that very night, the good old pastor, his friends, his servants, all might, for aught he knew, be kept in utter ignorance of his fate for many days.

The hands, too, of the unscrupulous and feelingless instruments of despotic power, would be in every cabinet of his house and his chateau, invading all the little storehouses of past affections, perhaps scattering to the winds all the fond memorials of the loved and dead. The dark lock of his mother's hair, which he had preserved from boyhood--the few fragments of her handwriting, and some verses that she had composed shortly before her death--all his father's letters to him, from the time that he first sent him forth, a gallant boy girt with the sword of a high race, to win renown, through all that period when the son, growing up in glory, shone back upon his father's name the light that he had thence received, and paid amply all the cares which had been bestowed upon him, by the joy of his great deeds, up to that sad moment, when, with a trembling hand, the dying parent announced to his son the commencement and progress of the fatal malady that carried him to the grave.--All these were to be opened, examined, perhaps dispersed by the cold, if not by the scornful; and all the sanct.i.ties of private affection violated.

Such and a thousand other such feelings, rapid, innumerable, and, in some instances, contradictory to and opposing each other, rushed through his bosom in a moment at the announcement of the officer's errand. The whole facts of his situation, in short, with every minute particular, were conjured up before his eyes, as in a picture, by those few words; and the first effort of deliberate thought was made while De Cantal went on to say, "As I have said, Monsieur de Morseiul, it is my wish to save you any unnecessary pain, and therefore I have ordered the carriage, which is to convey you to the Bastille, to wait at the further end of the first street. A couple of musketeers and myself will accompany you inside; so that there will be no unnecessary parade about the matter: and I doubt not that you will be liberated shortly."

"I trust it may be so, Sir," replied the Count; "and am obliged to you for your kindness. I have violated no law, divine or human; and though, of course, I have many sins to atone towards my G.o.d, yet I have none towards my King. I am quite ready to accompany you, but I suppose that I shall not be permitted to return to my own house, even to seek those things which may be necessary for my comfort in the Bastille."

"Quite impossible, Sir," replied the officer. "It would be as much as my head is worth to permit you to set foot in your own dwelling."

The thoughts of the young Count, as may well be supposed, were turned, at that moment, particularly to Clemence de Marly; and he was most anxious, on every account, to make his servants acquainted with the fact of his having been arrested, in the hope that Riquet would have the good sense to convey the tidings to the Hotel de Rouvre. To have explained this, in any degree, to the officer who had him in charge, would have been to frustrate the whole design; and therefore he replied,

"Far be it from me, Sir, to wish you to do any thing but your duty: but you see, as I have been accustomed, throughout my life, to somewhat perhaps too much luxury, I should be very desirous of procuring some changes of apparel. That, I am aware, may be permitted to me unless I am to be in the strictest and most severe kind of imprisonment which the Bastille admits of. You know by the orders you have received whether such is to be the case or not, and of course I do not wish you to deviate from your orders. Am I to be kept _au secret?_"

"Oh dear no, not at all," replied the officer. "The order merely implies your safe custody; and, probably, unless some private commands are given farther, you will have what is called the great liberties of the Bastille: but still that would not, by any means, justify me in permitting you to go to your own house."

"No," replied the Count; "but it renders it perfectly possible--if you are, as I believe, disposed to treat a person in my unfortunate situation with kindness and liberality--for you to send down one of your own attendants to my valet, Jerome Riquet, with my orders to send me up, in the course of the day, such clothes as may be necessary for a week. Let the message be verbal, so as to guard against any dangerous communication; and let the clothes be addressed to the care of the governor of the prison, in order that they may be inspected before they are given to me."

"Oh, to that, of course, there can be no objection," replied the young officer. "We will do it immediately. But we must lose no time, Monsieur de Morseiul, for the order is countersigned by Monsieur de Louvois, and you know he likes prompt obedience."

The Count accompanied him at a rapid pace, deriving no slight consolation under the unhappy circ.u.mstances in which he was placed, at the idea of Clemence being fully informed of the cause of his not appearing at the time he had promised. At the spot which Monsieur de Cantal had mentioned, was found a plain carriage, with a coachman and lackey in grey, and two musketeers of the guard seated quietly in the inside. While the Count was entering the vehicle, the officer called the lackey to his side and said, "Run down as fast as possible to the house of the Count de Morseiul, and inquire for his valet. What did you say his name is, Monsieur de Morseiul?"

"Jerome Riquet," said the Count.