The Rebellion in the Cevennes, an Historical Novel Volume Ii Part 5

"Your Name?"

"Dubois, by your leave."

When he announced himself as surgeon, he was commanded to bind up the wounds of Ravanel and several of the other brethren. Cavalier and Roland discovered from the papers the position of the royal troops, and it was decided to antic.i.p.ate the attack. As they intended to dispatch a trusty person to reconnoitre the country, Edmond stepped forward and said: "As yet I have not been able to do any thing for you, my dearest brethren, intrust this commission to me." It was granted to him, and he retired to dress according to his own ideas, in a manner befitting his design; Lacoste, who would never separate from him, now pressed forward again as his companion. As soon as they had discussed and ordered every thing, Cavalier proposed, that the courier should be detained until they should have brought their plan to a fortunate conclusion, and Castanet with his young wife repaired to the leafy hut, that had been got ready for them both, while the darkness of night set in.

CHAPTER VIII.

Edmond intended visiting the valleys under pretext of inquiring after and purchasing an estate and castle in the district, that were abandoned by the owner, and now for sale. He had become acquainted with an aged secular priest, who dwelt in a beautifully situated village of a charming valley, and his companion had under other pretences taken up his quarters in a neighbouring village. As Edmond wandered solitarily through the enchanting landscape, for the purpose of acquainting himself with its conveniences, his heart became oppressed as he struggled to know if the object, that led him hither might in itself be a good, whether it might be a justifiable one. "Shall I," said he to himself, "bring war into these peaceful valleys, where hitherto no noise of arms has ever resounded? Here the monsters still slumber, which we are going to awaken, in order to provide victims even in these communes for their grim jaws." He quieted his perturbed feelings with the thought, that without his a.s.sistance the royalists would march hither, for the purpose of entangling and, if possible, extirpating his new brethren from this part of the country, which was almost wholly in the possession of Catholic inhabitants.

His host, the Catholic priest, was a very little grey-haired man, who, with just as old and amiable a housekeeper lived under the vines and olive trees, that shaded his dwelling so quietly and peaceably, that Edmond on his first entrance was involuntarily reminded of the fable of Philemon and Baucis. He could not divest himself of the idea, that in this habitation the earliest and dearest recollections of his childhood were hovering round him, he was confounded at himself, that his wrath, his burning, religious zeal seemed here nearly exhausted, he was almost obliged to confess that it was forgotten. He meditated and dreamed in the rustling of the trees, by the murmuring of the little waterfall, how softly his soul melted away, and his resolution, like that of Rinaldo's in the enchanted garden of Armida, lost all its strength.

When he could not regain his former energy in his waking dreams, as he strolled by the side of the brook, he called it the stream of oblivion, where he now enjoyed the vernal gales and flower breathing elysium and in Lethe separating himself for ever from the world of strife and suffering.

The clergyman had also received the youth with the greatest cordiality; whenever Edmond returned from his rambles, such pleasure beamed on the countenance of the old man, that the stranger felt himself bound to his host by kindliness and emotion. The latter frequently examined him fixedly and as if he had known him already at an earlier period, and then sank into a reverie as if he could not connect his recollections.

"My dear Chevalier de Valmont," (thus Edmond had named himself) commenced the old man on the second day, as they sat at table, "the longer you are with me, the greater pleasure do I experience in your society. An extraordinary resemblance to an old friend almost compels me to treat you as a beloved brother, nay, I may say as a son. It is long since any stranger has visited me in my solitude, here I learn but little of the world, and that is why such a visit as yours is so acceptable to me." "I too am delighted with your society," replied Edmond, "and I ask myself not without sadness, wherefore it should not be granted to man to spend his days in peaceful quiet, elevated and instructed by nature, enlivened and comforted by the simplest and most delightful enjoyments."

"Perhaps this will be your fate my good sir." answered the priest with vivacity, "perhaps we may then see each other very often and confidentially, if you should only, become the possessor of yonder castle, which is scarcely half a league distant from hence."

"And," said Edmond hesitatingly,--"if the war should rush down here also? should this castle, this house here be consumed in flames? Where is safety in our times?" "The Lord will protect us replied the priest, as he has done heretofore." "And should he confer victory on the foes?"

"His will be done," prayed the old man, "for his decree is wisdom, he is just and good, and with his might dwells love." "It almost appears,"

said Edmond surprised, "that you will not be disinclined to grant victory to the rebels; at least you express yourself so mildly, that I do not recognise in you the Catholic, as zealous for his religion as, however, he ought to be."

"Let us not misunderstand each other," replied the priest, "I only mean, that I surrender myself intirely, wholly, and unconditionally to the will of my Lord, and resign the reins to him without murmuring, or contending. But I love my religion, I am thoroughly imbued with it, and on that very account be it far from me to banish these poor deluded ones and to call down a curse upon their heads."

"You are thus a worthy servant of your religion," answered Edmond, "and deserve that the enlightening should be made manifest to you."

The venerable man looked smilingly on the youth and said: "You have now betrayed yourself young gentleman,--do not blush," continued he in the mildest tone, "fear nothing from me; you are not the less welcome to me on that account. Perhaps we shall understand, when we have learnt to know each other and perhaps not; but you shall ever remain my beloved guest, may become also my friend, although it may happen that I should blame your enthusiasm, or your fanaticism. How many worthy, n.o.ble, truly inspired, loving minds have I also known among the Huguenots and how many harsh and pitiless ones in my own church. It is now indeed a woeful time in our country, and moreover, we see as yet no end to the misery."

Edmond had recovered from his surprise and embarra.s.sment, and said: "Is it though right, to remain thus indifferent and irresolute as you appear to me to be? Yet, perhaps, at a later period of life I shall also feel thus, for my father, to my sorrow, spoke almost as you do."

"You do not know me yet," answered the priest, "and I may well a.s.sert, without pretention, that sentence ought not to be p.r.o.nounced so hastily and so readily on a man, who has had such experience of himself and of the world, who has reflected and really lived. In religious affairs particularly, my brain whirls in agony, when I see how so many place the whole tenor of a profound mystery in a book, an expression, a phrase, or even a syllable, and weigh the immensity of love in grains and scruples, that they may know the faster how surely their brother is to be d.a.m.ned, who in other countries and with different vessels draws out of the ocean of grace. Whoever too hastily gives a yes, or a no to the interrogations of the conscience, in such a.s.suredly neither doubt, nor conviction is as yet awakened. That exhaustion, that mournful faintness which comes over us, when we see all parties fallen into error, all truth and inspiration mingled and disfigured by human pa.s.sion, is not to be called indifference. Whom the revealed word has once enlightened can never again forget the glance of love, that has arisen in his inmost soul, he would rather forfeit his life than his conviction, he requires no proofs, no renewing to confirm him, no pa.s.sion, no illusion, or miracle to ground him more firmly in himself, as little will raillery, or doubt, brilliant talent, or presumptuous philosophy, again be able to displace in his heart that directing star."

Edmond became thoughtful. "You are recalling," said he at length, "my former existence within me; I believe I comprehend you, and yet formerly I did not understand myself. You even mention the miraculous and similar things slightingly, do we not live in the age of such things? Oh! my honoured, venerable friend, could you have beheld what I have seen, could I tell you what I have myself experienced, you would then be bewildered at yourself and your own conviction, but you content yourself in peace, that you may escape the conflict, you deny the gift of prophecy, the visions, the wonderful state of these children and inspired Camisards, or censure with your church all, as deception and falsehood, if perchance you do not, as however I cannot believe of you, agree with the most infamous, and declare it the work of Satan and of h.e.l.l." "Aye, no, my young enthusiast," cried the old man, "nothing of all this; I have spoken with sensible men, and I have witnessed myself years ago similar singularities: Why should I deny these miracles, and may be, here and there mingled with lies, what should deter me from believing in them?"

"Well, nevertheless," interrupted Edmond pa.s.sionately, "you will withdraw from the truth, you will uphold only your church as truly orthodox?"

"Has mine then no miracles to bring forward?" said the old man meekly: "and why should I not recognise them? But should the truth of revelation be grounded upon these alone, we were then indeed entrapped in the worst of errors. That, which habit renders necessary to us, we call nature and its laws: When I see a deviation from this, which surprises and confounds me, I speak of miracles; as if these so named laws were not likewise miracles; as if I were able to interpret, to comprehend and explain the daily phenomena; as if each flower did not blossom before me as a miracle; my origin, growth and decay, sun, moon, and stars, light, air, and water, nay, the organisation of the smallest fly were not also miracles like horror and spectre. All life surrounds me spiritually, miraculously; or, if my spirit is torn out of the peaceful element of its heavenly atmosphere; then love becomes hatred and despair, and wisdom as well as the revealed word of the Lord madness and blasphemy." Edmond was mute. "Know I then," continued the old man, "that which I call nature and its energies, the mind and its faculties? how each day it varies in different men for the most insignificant occasions! The poet, the artist knows how to speak of feelings, which to the uninitiated must appear as delirium, or miracle: energies unfold themselves, of which the former world was ignorant, many others have in the course of time declined, or have been forgotten; they appear again probably to astonish, or to give a firmer foundation to true science. Would my mind set limits to the Almighty, and know I, what G.o.d from wise, unsearchable causes will permit or execute? but no miracle can ever be elevated to a religious mystery; revelation requires not this to announce its eternal truth; the Saviour himself did not perform his miracles for that purpose, and reproaches the pharasees and people; miracle seeking testifies disbelief and irreligion, and where pa.s.sion, party or sect, in the conflict of opinions, relies upon these inexplicable phenomena and wish to found conviction, or even to prove and explain for ever and ever out of what is indefinite, then is it all over long since with every sincere examination, with all true religion."

"And the resurrection of the Lord?" said Edmond. "Is not," said the former, "to be reckoned among the phenomena, commonly called miracles, if the grosser, unenlightened mind can indeed comprehend them only in this manner." "Go on," said Edmond, "to make your opinions clear to me, I am not yet too old to learn." "It happens not unfrequently," resumed the priest "that remorse and despair either in criminals or in weak, sickly men have produced a sudden cure of old paralysis, so that the strength of the arm has been able to tear off their fetters, or to break iron posts; pa.s.sion or terror exasperated that man, and gave him what in an ordinary state he did not possess. In dreams, in sickness, strange worlds are often discovered to us, and unknown feelings, scarcely foreboded, are presented to our view, and thus it may well happen, nay, I have myself experienced it, that in excited minds, inspired by enthusiasm, remorse, and pa.s.sion, a state, as if between sleep and wakefulness, originates, in which, in the struggles of the organs, the spirit breaks in a short time through the bonds that confine it; it sees and hears as a spirit, distance approaches it, barriers obstruct not its view, futurity becomes the present, and in this total overthrow, the original vigour of the soul resumes its own appropriate right."

"And wherefore should not this, according to your own words," said Edmond, "be able to be pure and heavenly?"

"I will neither combat, condemn, nor ratify it," answered the clergyman, "were our nature entirely pure and refined, had we never falsified our heavenly origin, then indeed might these phenomena deserve our praise and thanksgiving to the Almighty, who again ever raises us to the rank of apostles, and denies us not the gift of prophecy. But frivolity, mortality, and evil have penetrated into us, this death obscures our life, this annihilation struggles against our spirit, as we are of heavenly origin; our outward existence is, however, as well as our spiritual operations continually exposed to this pitiful enemy, as the shadow, it follows every thought and every deed, and to combat it in thought and action, as well as in pure faith and devotion, is the task of our existence; the past must be continually put aside to make room for the coming, of the Lord. But woe to us when that wonderful excitement of the mind, when these gifts of prophecy a.s.sociate themselves with this nullity, this chaos, and all the dark pa.s.sions! Then eternal truth, which never slumbers within us, summons falsehood, vanity, pride, wickedness, and bloodthirstiness, to enter into the shadowed gloom of our dark deformed soul, hyenas and tigers then tear themselves free from their fetters, and hapless man imagines, while the spirit of murder is roaring within him, that the Spirit of the Lord is prophesying directly from out of his mouth."

Edmond looked at him searchingly. "Often, however," pursued the old man composedly, "it is only the Immortal Spirit, that collects all its present and future energies, that it may step beyond the ordinary limits of nature, and that it merely takes with it the images of folly, and the almost innocent mask, in order to announce even in the supernatural, that which is absurd and contrary to nature."

"If you are right." said Edmond, "what do you counsel those, who are thus gifted? This state must be a most critical one; but how disembarra.s.s yourself of it?"

"By simplicity of conduct," replied the old man, "by estrangement from all pa.s.sion and pride, and by pure prayer for the deliverance from this error, and from the deluding gift."

"That signifies," answered Edmond pa.s.sionately and bitterly, "I ought to entreat the Lord to withdraw from me, I ought to pray to him to remain far away from me; in order to become G.o.dly, I must commence with consummate impiety. Is it thus that a priest of the Lord can exhort and counsel? but thus they are, thus they speak, these persecutors. And if they be but consistent, they must also entirely deny the miracles of their church, nay, even censure sacred Scripture as a lie."

"You have not indeed completely understood me, young man," answered the priest. "May not the ardour of love kindle so intensely, that the matter, the obscurity, the nothingness in us, may become temporally annihilated, and our speech, with the Lord's permission working in his strength may issue forth? That this may be possible, the example of the apostles teaches us, the prophets bear witness; that many great saints whom the world venerated, may have thus spoken and worked, is certainly credible.--And thus belief may move and elevate, it may be a positive crime to mock reservation,--but what can this avail true religion, or its mysteries? How weak would it be, if these supports, as I have already said, were indispensable to it! The miracle of all miracles, my young friend, is the great moment which is revealed to all sinning, hapless mortals in their limited life, when the lord himself advances to meet the penitent, the indifferent, and creates his heart anew. This metamorphosis is more wonderful incomprehensible, and more mysterious than all the overthrows of the laws of nature, which attract the eye searching for miracles, for here out of nothing something is brought forth, out of death, suddenly like a flash of lightning, life is created."

They were disturbed at this moment by several peasants, who were begging directions from their priest how to proceed respecting the approaching festival and procession. Edmond in the mean while walked about the little garden, variously excited and inclined to contemplation, for his earlier youth had been recalled to his remembrance, many of his father's words, many of his early instructor's, his mother's admonitions were again revived within him.

The clergyman returned after a short time and said: "Still I must ever lovingly admire the human mind, when it preserves itself pure, and so many sentiments and customs affect, while they appear to us childish, and foolish. Let no severe judge expunge these feelings from our religion, for even, these sucklings will hang on their mother's breast, and while they nourish themselves, they gaze in her dark eyes, whose expression they understand more from the instinct of childhood than from knowledge. We have here in our little church a miraculous portrait of the mother of G.o.d, which is renowned and honored far and wide by the country-people of the mountain. An old shapeless figure cut in wood of small size, probably in the early age of art, when it was yet scarcely aware of its own existence. I have seen the sick, when they prayed before the altar, restored to health, for faith and the commotions of the mind are able to bring forth the strongest phenomena in our delicate nature. Now when I reflect that upon this little spot so many thousands have for centuries derived consolation and joy, I cannot look upon her without emotion. The war has rendered a festival impossible this year, which otherwise has annually been celebrated on the morrow.

From several village communities, even from those which lie twelve leagues off, processions of the communities arrived; eight young girls crowned with flowers bore the portrait of the Madonna of their church, singing all those hymns, which sound so beautifully in the mountain dialect in their tunes: Thus they walked round the church and one procession after another brought many with spiritual songs into our temple, here the strange visitor must bow low before ours, who then in a chaunt thanked and praised the Lord, in the song which our young women here sing most enchantingly in alternate chorusses. Thus all the processions bring in their mother of G.o.d quite similar to the theories of the ancient Greeks, and retired again in praise and thanks. This ceremony, which to the wise may only appear puerile, has, since I have been able to observe the people here, always produced much good and salutary fruit. The common man (though what do I say, who among us that calls himself the educated,) need not such things at times. The whole village all the winter long rejoiced in the antic.i.p.ation of this day, the possession of this Marie endears this spot of the mountain, and renders it invaluable to them, the pilgrimage church here dazzles to the absent from a distance as if surrounded with a glory. The wandering through unknown districts encouraged the young and old, the visitings of a foreign nature, made the accustomed home more agreeable to them.

Religious sentiments, pious designs, were developed, and at a later period, in peace brought to perfection. On the road they encountered the poor and sick, who needed a.s.sistance, all the feelings of the heart were renewed and reinvigorated, for man requires a similar renewal at times, that he may not become too monotonous to himself. Shall I also remind you, that by this means their native land became to all more endeared and beloved? without mentioning, that people from far countries became acquainted, and one heard of this and that from another; affection and also marriages were contracted among the distant mountaineers, and thus the useful, the good with piety and an inclination for the wonderful, as well as the love of nature went hand in hand." "All this," said Edmond, "however much you may speak in its favour, the Huguenots call idolatry."

"It would be so too," answered the old man, "if persecution, hatred and malice, were excited by this love and festivity. It might be perilous to celebrate the festival now, especially if it should be interrupted by enthusiasts of the other party. In bygone years, however, I have seen even protestants, who were unable to look upon the puerile ceremony without shedding tears. For it is just in a similar way, when man suffers himself to yield to his most cherished sentiments as if he were at home, when in an entirely childish and artless spirit he draws near to his G.o.d, or to his representative, his mother, or the saints, (whom he believes nearer to the nameless one,) plays and sports with the dreaded, the worshipped, laying aside all solemnity and all serious pomp, then does mankind appear purest and simplest. All ages, all nations are the same, let them think and worship as they like, have never been able to do entirely without it, and what we are often compelled to hear from free-thinkers or reformers, that we have again introduced the old overthrown idolatry, is only, if rightly understood, in the spirit of love, the regeneration of the human mind, which will never permit this source of its holy thirst to be exhausted. But abuse and error attach themselves to everything human. Indeed, the most beautiful body consists merely of earth, and dust; and yet beauty is more sublime than the moist clay of the fields."

Thus was Edmond compelled to hear from strange lips his former thoughts detailed. He was so affected by the presence of the old man, that he felt himself compelled to discover to him what a zealous catholic he himself had once been and had but a short time previously turned to the Huguenot faith; he was silent, however, respecting his alliance with the Camisards, and the purpose for which he had descended into the valleys.

"It is easy to understand," answered the old man, "how lively minds in these troublous times forsake their party and seek on the opposite side, what is wanting to them; that love makes such attempts to become reconciled with itself, even though these attempts should fail. My dear, young friend, you recall to my mind by your confession, your countenance and presence my own past youth in the most lively colours, and I cannot refrain from exchanging confession for confession, confidence for confidence. I am indeed tempted to impart to you the history of my little limited life, that has almost only experienced emotions of the mind."

They seated themselves in an arbour, before which stood plantains entwined with vines, the green wooded mountains were open, and the murmuring of the brook resounded pleasingly through the solitude, while from to time to time, the bells of the village church on account of the festival on the morrow, rang out their monotonous and solemn tones.

"I come from the Netherlands," commenced the priest, "born of Huguenot parents, whom I lost at a very early period. My guardians, worldly-minded men, troubled themselves more about the preservation of my small fortune than of giving me a sound education, and therefore it happened that I was consigned to a tutor, with whom they, as well as myself, were very well pleased. He was a man of extensive information, who had also travelled much, and had resided a considerable time in London. As he was descended from a good family, and possessed himself some tact, he became acquainted with and acquired each day the confidence of many beaux esprits and of the courtiers here, and although his morals had not suffered as much as one might well have been led to fear, his religious principles at least, which may never have been very strong, were by this intercourse entirely stifled and destroyed. Knowledge, understanding were the most important to him, however he devoted himself with religious worship to poetry, as well as to the history of the ancient Greeks. No one could be more eloquent than he, when he enlarged upon these subjects. That these sentiments, as I was of a very lively disposition, should influence me, was very natural; my tutor seemed to me the most gifted of mortals, and his decisions were my oracles. Though I may still honour his memory, I must nevertheless censure as a weakness in what then certainly appeared to me his greatest forte, namely, his unwearied mockery of Christianity and of every religion; all others rather than the various sects of the Christian Church, found a release from his satires; the present, as well as the past, the history of the development, its mysteries, all was a subject of his derision, and the apostles, even the Saviour himself, were not spared by him, how much less Luther, or Calvin, and Zwingli, or even those so named mystics, who desire to form in themselves a peculiar spirit to recognise G.o.d. My mind had soon become so intimately connected with his, that I could not endure that there should be any religion for me on the earth, that any pious sentiments should ever arise in my heart. I had indeed my heroes of the former world, the Grecian antiquity, the high-minded Romans, in whose patriotism I glowed in dreams, the boundless fields of poetry with its gardens of wit and humour; and out of Sophocles and Eschylus, those dreamers of a world of spirits not understood, these seemed to me the most sublime objects that could ever have the power to shake my soul.

In a short time I was honestly and truly ashamed of being a Christian, when I thought of the variegated world of fiction, of the ambiguous Grecian mythology, of those feasts and spectacles, lofty statues, and n.o.ble temples: Where then were the deliverer on the ignominious cross, and his impoverished disciples? how this faith of poverty and misfortune dwindled into nothing compared with those sacrifices and public parade, and the jubilee of the Pindaric hymns? neither did I reckon myself among the community, and the dullest day of my young, life, was that on which I was received into the church of our sect with the customary ceremonies. Each word seemed nonsense to me, all solemnity degradation, in anger only I responded to the questions, and while still in the church, I swore never again to visit it: A contradictory and foolish oath, which, however, I long observed. At a later period, when I reentered into the world, I remarked that all, who were called strong-minded, were either privately or publicly of my belief. All did not openly mock; the weak disapproved of this outrage, but only from the feeling of not making weak men err, or become unhappy, who though had nothing better themselves, or were not able to produce any thing but the old, miserable tale, that, without a connexion, one often contradicts the other. Many forcibly denied altogether the history of the Saviour, with others still worse, he was merely an unfortunate rebel, and to the best, a moral man, but who indeed, according to their views must be far inferior to Socrates, whose life was clearer, and whose doctrines seemed more comprehensible.

Several of these free-thinkers, to whom the catholic church was a stumbling block, and who, that they might not be considered as antichristians, turned all the strength of their mind, under pretext of protecting the protestant freedom, to tear to atoms and to disfigure their catholic brethren, the history of the church, spiritual and temporal ordinances, in the most barbarous manner: thus behind this rampart, they imagined under false names, to be able to annihilate Christianity itself, for this it was which was hateful to them, not this, or that party. All this was very evident to me, and I lent my aid as much as my limited power would permit. I arrived at the age of maturity, and my opinions only became still more deeply rooted. I travelled, I saw the world, but only on the side, which confirmed my prejudices. If I met with pious enlightened Christians, they appeared to me only as strange disordered spirits, worthy of remark perhaps, of pity a.s.suredly. In a German town I took out of sheer insolence the book of a German mystic from the library to my own dwelling, that I might for want of better amus.e.m.e.nt, divert myself in the spirit of derision with the madness of the absurd and the foolish. Unconsciously, I had brought the fire-brand into my house, which soon set in flames all this edifice of pride and worldly impiety. I turned over the leaves, read and laughed, read again and found the puerility at least poetical. The book left me no rest, I felt as it were attracted to it, it tortured me, and to my shame I was soon forced to confess to myself, that it contained connexion, strength, and spirit, that it instructed me, and that gardens, flowers, and trees of love bloomed, where I had only seen a waste desert. The presentiment seized me, that another G.o.d might rule the universe than he, whom in my enthusiastic views of nature, or in my poetical inspirations, I had been willing to discover, or to acknowledge in the vortex of frivolity.

"My mind much affected, after some weeks of anxiety and meditation, longed ardently to read the Holy Scriptures. None of my numerous acquaintances, even such as were book collectors, or who possessed extensive libraries, had this book in their households. I felt ashamed, that I too had never required it. From that time this treasure became my faithful companion on my travels. I read in solitary and consecrated moments, and experienced what every thirsty one feels, who is susceptible of humiliation, in whom the utter sense of helplessness is not entirely extinct, which, indeed, is so indispensably necessary before the spiritual word can take root in the uncultivated heart.

Faith! this so often disputed, attacked and variously explained word.

Oh! who has experienced it, in whom it has arisen with its strength, he will not dispute it. I could not withdraw myself from the revelation, the faith, so triumphantly did the words, the images, the language of the gospel glittering in the splendour of arms pierce through my soul, and all my energies became the prisoners of eternal love, and were now happy and blessed in the service, in the sweet slavery. My former rebellion against the Lord appeared to me mean and despicable, and my contempt turned from its course, no longer understood the folly of its early wisdom. Many indeed imagine, that faith, humility, and unbounded trust in the Lord, are nothing else than killing our energies, nay the faculty of thinking, and consequently withdraw in anger or in trembling from that work of regeneration, which, nevertheless speaks sometimes from afar indirectly to their insensible hearts. Unhappy men! This so much dreaded faith would first elevate their capacities to energies and kindle new lights and flames in their spirits. Without him, the revealed Christ, no sense in profound thought, no spirit in history, no consolation in nature and no peculiarity in our existence. Art, love, humour, who possesses him, they are then free play-fellows. How joyous, sweet, yea intoxicating and full of merriment, cheerful, and smiling does Christianity appear through all the genuine works of modern art, how blessed and pleasing are they, when in the greatness and fulness of the old world, yet like a spirit of gentle melancholy that pa.s.ses away as the cloud, momentarily over the beautiful landscape in the brilliancy of spring." The old man paused, and Edmond said: "Oh! how willingly I listen to you, and remember all the sentiments and vicissitudes of my stormy youth."

"What I had before rejected," continued the priest, "now became the most urgent want of my soul, for I felt, how much a christian congregation, in unison together, must strengthen and elevate the individual. I visited the church therefore and wished to join in the worship of my sect. But whether it was that my mind was too much agitated, or that I had perhaps fallen on the wrong one, it appeared to me that every where the church overreached itself by preaching. All preferred their own explanations, and their close reasoning philosophy to the word of the Lord, they were all ashamed of Christ and denied him in artfully spun phrases, they misinterpreted him, merely that they might bring him nearer to their own weak necessities, as if he and his disciples must be subservient to their enlightened times, as servants and s.e.xtons of the church. I knew well, that every believing auditor and layman must be a priest himself to be able by his own power to transform the worthless into the good, but all my vital energies sank in the midst of that which surrounded me; the shrill singing stunned me, and the whole left a void and almost brought me back again to the state of a despairing infidel. It was certainly unreasonable on my part to require that all should partake of the intoxication of my newly planted vineyard. I was now compelled to feel, that fanaticism, and stepping beyond the limits was yet worse than remaining cold and apathetic below the mark. I continued my travels, and quarrelled on the way with my companion, already an old acquaintance, who neither could, or would not share in all my feelings. Thus we arrived at Nismes; there my destiny ordained, that I should long remain, in order that my whole life fully aroused should be determined and resolved. My companion, a certain Lacoste, introduced me to a house, where new feelings awaited me, to torture as much as to bless me."

"Lacoste!" exclaimed Edmond, "should he, perhaps--but proceed my venerable friend, I may be mistaken."

"My former friend," pursued the priest, "was tall and robust, a handsome man in every sense of the word, feeling and kind, but frivolous, and as far from every religion, as I had been a short time previously. This friend introduced me to the family of a worthy magistrate, which soon, as the good man and his excellent wife received me so hospitably, became my daily abode. They had a son, an amiable youth whose enthusiasm quickly procured him my confidence, for just as much as Lacoste disputed all religious principles, young Beauvais warmly cherished them, voluntary lived in and for religion: he was the most zealous defender of his Catholic party, that I have ever been acquainted with."

"Heavens!" exclaimed Edmond, "you are then, venerable man, the Edmond Watelet, of whom I have so often heard the Counsellor of Parliament speak, as the favourite friend of his youth?"

A long pause ensued.--"It is indeed so," said the aged priest wiping away his tears, "the young enthusiastic Beauvais must now be an old man; I too though am become old! Aye, truly, there is a period which our heart refuses to believe, it is that alone which exalts the life of each one of us to a strange fiction, to a wonderful tale. He is still living then? ah, my dear Chevalier, you are yourself very like him.

That is the spell, which so inseparably bound me to you."

Edmond talked of his father, but notwithstanding his deep emotion, he felt it was impossible to discover to him at that moment, that he was his son. After a time during which the old man recovered from his agitation, he continued more calmly: "That which most contributed to convert the paternal dwelling of my young friend into an enchanted garden for me, was the society of the young and beautiful women, who a.s.sembled there. Ha himself was affianced to a lovely girl, and he ardently antic.i.p.ated his union with her. His Lucy's sentiments corresponded exactly with his own, and all that drew them nearer to each other was more or less imbibed into their existence and grew with the inspired hymn. The elder Beauvais only smiled at the high-strained feeling of the young people, for though he was himself pious, he rather feared that overreaching, and this religious ecstasy appeared to him as such. I now visited the temple in high spirits with my enthusiastic friend. The solemnity of G.o.d's service, the stillness, the enchanting singing, the dread-inspiring presentiment which hovered over every mystery that here tried to present itself visibly to the necessitous, languishing senses, transported my heart. Already accustomed to look upon every thing as a riddle, as a concealed mystery of love, the celebration of the Ma.s.s appeared to me as elevated and divine, as revelation and work of art, as type and fulfilment at the same time, and each word spoken, or sung as it fell on my ear in the full force of its signification, drove back a bolt from my heart. Art and nature changed before my eyes, the element of water became glorified, in the fire, in the light of the church tapers as well as that of the house, I perceived and recognised the whole tenor of the secret of nature. The nights became too short to enable us to impart to each other all that arose in our minds. A young abbe, a mild, miracle-believing enthusiast was often the third in our consultations in the open air or within doors, and his learning, his knowledge in old legends and histories of the church gave to all our spiritual movements body and presence, yes, my friend, this rosy period of my youth was like the wedding festival of my soul, and griefs not to be named were already preparing in the midst of this enjoyment, in order to teach me how weak, how frail man is and remains."

"And this abbe," exclaimed Edmond, who had scarcely heard the last words, "was he not named Aubigny?"

"Exactly so," replied the pastor with much astonishment, "it seems indeed that you know all the companions of my youth."

"Through the Counsellor of Parliament," answered Edmond, "who also likes to recall to his memory the season of his youth. But I pray you to continue your narrative. I fear that that Lacoste did not wish to be the fourth in your alliance."

"The unfortunate man," said the priest, "who had already become so confidential with us, withdrew from us day by day, although he still continued to visit frequently the paternal dwelling. Notwithstanding that we had agreed to deal mildly with him, his derision of us excited our anger, and his coldness refused all our conciliatory endeavours. It was not predestined, that our days should flow along in peaceful, undisturbed cheerfulness.