"Oh yes," replied Chasseron: "I see you judge by externals alone, my young friend; and because I am here a poor cultivator of the soil, you think that I am a mere peasant; but I am of gentle blood like yourself--hold my own land, what is left of it; and your friend Virgil should have taught you that there is no degradation in agriculture; so that, though I have for a time beaten my sword into a reaping-hook, I am not a bit the worse gentleman for that."
"Nay, God forbid," replied the young gentleman, "I hold it one of the most honourable employments a man can follow; but you must not censure me for seeking occupation in my books, as you say, while you seek occupation in your fields."
"There is some difference, however," replied Chasseron; "in living with the dead as you say, you cut yourself off from doing good to the living, which ought to be the great object of each man's life. You may tell me, that amongst those great men, those sages of antiquity, you can best learn how to live, and gain precepts to be applied to your future conduct; but there is a danger in being too long a learner; and, in studying precepts all your life, you may forget ever to apply them. Each man has duties, and those of busy times like these are active ones. One's king, one's country, one's friends, one's relations, one's fellow-citizens, all have claims upon us which the dead have not; and the exercise of our abilities affords lessons for our conduct, to which all the maxims of philosophers and moralists are but bubbles."
"Methinks," replied De Montigni, "that the cultivator of the soil is not much more called into active life than the cultivator of letters."
"Your pardon, your pardon, worthy Sir," answered the farmer; "he is always mingling with his fellow-creatures; he is ever ready to take his part with the rest when need shall be; he is daily benefiting mankind, and not spending his life in studying how; he is still learning more, even while he is enacting much; and, by the practice of what is right, he learns to do it well."
The young gentleman smiled gaily, but changed the subject, saying, "Perhaps you are right; but now tell me, as you seem to have studied all these things deeply, and most likely have lived with your eyes open to all that has taken place, what has been doing here of late, and what is the real state of France? for, but imperfect and maimed accounts reach us in foreign lands, perverted by the prejudices of men, and coloured by all the passions of the relators. Nor have I indeed paid much attention to what I heard, till I was summoned back by my uncle; for the only tidings that reached us, came through the League, except once or twice, when some Royalists passed by Venice."
"Your question is a wide one," replied Chasseron, "and I should have to write a history to tell you. It is but needful to say, that France is growing tired of the League; men are recovering from the fever which had driven them mad. The King, now with many, now with few, is still gaining ground on his enemies; but his friends are sometimes more mischievous to him than his foes. Half the Catholics serve him coldly, intrigue in his very camp, his court, and at his table, because he is a heretic. The Huguenots murmur and complain because he is obliged to buy, bribe, and reward their adversaries. Both fight well when there is a battle or a siege, but both are well inclined to leave him when he is obliged to spend his time in those slow and difficult movements, which are no less necessary in a campaign than the combat or the storming party. In the meanwhile, fed with foreign gold, supported by foreign troops, confederated with the implacable enemies of the land, and slaughtering Frenchmen with the swords of the Spaniard, the only hold which the League have upon the people of France is the frail pretext of religion, the almost incurable anarchy into which they have thrown the country, and the possession of a number of towns and fortresses, lands, governments, and territories, which those who have grasped them are unwilling to resign and know they can only retain so long as this great serpent of the League remains uncrushed."
"But let me hear," rejoined the young baron, "if you can tell me why, when the King had Paris at his mercy, he did not make himself master of it. If I have been informed aright, he could have taken it in an hour?"
"Perhaps he might," replied Chasseron, "and yet he did not. I think it was very foolish of him, for my part; but still there would have been terrible bloodshed, many thousands of good citizens would have perished, the capital would have been a scene of slaughter, violence, and devastation, such as the world has seldom witnessed. After all, perhaps it is as well for a King not to do all that a King can do; and yet the Parisians deserved no great mercy at his hands. But he, poor foolish man, chose rather to wander about fighting here and fighting there, sleeping hard, sometimes half starved, and working day and night, than take their beds from under these rebellious citizens, or give their wives and daughters up to his soldiers."
"And he was right," cried De Montigni warmly, "and God will bless him for it. If I am not much mistaken, that act will set him firmly on the throne of France."