The king’s council, which cared only for external acts, were no less astonished than rejoiced at the innumerable abjurations. Louvois wrote to his father, the chancellor, about the beginning of September, 1685: “Sixty thousand conversions have been made in the district of Bordeaux, and twenty thousand in that of Montauban. So rapid is the progress, that before the end of the month ten thousand Reformers will not be left in the district of Bordeaux, where there were one hundred and fifty thousand on the 15th of last month.”

The Duke de Noailles informed Louvois, at the same time, of the conversions at Nismes, Uzès, Alais, Villeneuve, &c. “The most influential people of Nismes,” said he, “abjured in the church, the day following my arrival. There was a slackening afterwards, but matters soon assumed a proper face, with the help of some billetings upon the dwellings of the most obstinate.... The number of Reformers in this province is about two hundred and forty thousand; I believe that all this will be expedited before the termination of the month.”

It was thought necessary to make these abjurations more secure by a legal measure; Louis XIV.—surrounded and besieged by his chancellor and his minister of war; ill-informed, perhaps, of what was passing in his kingdom—for he lived in the midst of favourites, like an Asiatic sultan in the seclusion of his palace—Louis XIV., to whom Louvois and La Chaise had promised that the work should not cost one drop of blood; having also consulted, it is said, the archbishops Harlay and Bossuet—Louis XIV. signed the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes on the 18th of October, 1685. God still permitted him to sit thirty years longer upon the throne, that he might bear the burden of the crime he had committed.

The preamble of the act of Revocation bears testimony to the monstrous lie, with which the king’s mind had been abused: “We now see,” it says, “with that just gratitude we owe to God, that our endeavours have terminated as we proposed, since the better and the greater portion of our subjects of the pretended Reformed religion have embraced Catholicism, and the Edict of Nantes therefore remaineth useless.”

Here is a recapitulation of the Revocatory Edict: Prohibition for the future of all lawful exercise of the Reformed worship in the kingdom. Exile of the pastors after the lapse of fifteen days, and, in the interim, prohibition to perform their functions, under penalty of the galleys. The promise to the pastors who recanted, of a pension greater by one-third than that they before enjoyed, with a reversion of one-half to their widows. Dispensation from academic studies for those of the pastors, who were desirous of entering the profession of the law. Parents were prohibited from instructing their children in the Reformed religion, and were enjoined to have them baptized and sent to (Roman) Catholic churches, under penalty of a fine of five hundred livres. All the refugees were ordered to return to France within four months, or to suffer confiscation of their property. The Reformers were forbidden to emigrate, under pain of the galleys for the men, and imprisonment for life for the women. Finally, the laws against those who relapsed, were confirmed.

The last article gave rise to a cruel mistake. It ran in these words: “At the most is it lawful for the said persons of the pretended Reformed religion, pending the pleasure of God to enlighten them, to dwell in the towns and places of our kingdom ... without being molested or troubled, under pretext of the said Reformed religion, on condition, as aforesaid, that there shall be no exercise of worship.” It would, therefore, appear that liberty of conscience at home, within the bosom of a family, was respected. The Reformed rejoiced at this relief amidst their misfortunes, and some even suspended their preparations for departure; but never was hope more bitterly disappointed.

The event showed, that these words, “pending the pleasure of God to enlighten them,” signified, pending their conversion by the dragoons, like their co-religionists. Louvois wrote to the provinces: “His majesty desires that the severest rigour should be shown to those who will not conform to his religion, and those who seek the foolish glory of wishing to be the last, must be pushed to the utmost extremity.”

The 18th of October, 1685, must be counted among the darkest days of France. It brought trouble, poverty, and humiliation upon many a generation.

The policy of Henry IV., of Richelieu, Mazarin, and even of Louis XIV. himself, was struck to the core. It was no longer possible to preserve the natural allies of France in Protestant Europe, when the world resounded with the piteous cries of the Reformed. All Protestantism rose against Louis XIV.: it found a leader in the prince of Orange, and the Parliamentary revolution of 1688 was the answer to the royal attempt of 1685.

Less powerful abroad, the country was weakened within. Emigration, of which we shall speak in the next book, assumed immense proportions. The wise Vauban wrote, only a year after the Revocation, that “France had lost a hundred thousand inhabitants, sixty millions of money, nine thousand sailors, twelve thousand tried soldiers, six hundred officers, and its more flourishing manufactures.” The Duke de Saint-Simon says in his memoirs, that “commerce was ruined in every branch, and a quarter of the kingdom was sensibly depopulated.”