"I do not know that," exclaimed Monsieur de Champclair. But he had the great majority of the persons who were then present against him, and, in a desultory conversation that followed, those who had most vehemently advocated resistance but a few minutes before, who had been all fire and fury, and talked loudly of sacrificing their lives a thousand times rather than sacrificing their religion, viewed the matter in a very different light now when the first eagerness was over. One declared that not an able-bodied man in forty would take the field in defence of his religion; another said, that they had surely had warning enough at La Rochelle; another spoke, with a shudder, of Alaix. In short, Albert de Morseiul had an epitome in that small meeting of the doubts, fears, and hesitations; the apathy, the weakness, the renitency which would affect the great body of Protestants, if called upon suddenly to act together. He was forced, then, to content himself with pressing strongly upon the attention of all present the necessity of adopting instantly the suggestion of Marshal Schomberg, and of drawing up a representation to the King, to be signed as rapidly as possible by the chief Protestants throughout the kingdom, and transmitted to Schomberg, who was even then on his way towards Paris.
Vain discussions next ensued in regard to the tone of the remonstrance, and the terms that were to be employed; and those who were inclined to be more bold in words than in deeds, proposed such expressions as would have entirely obviated the result sought to be obtained, giving the petition the character of a threatening and mutinous manifesto. Though this effect was self-evident, yet the terms had nearly been adopted by the majority of those present, and most likely would have been so, had not a fortunate suggestion struck the mind of Albert of Morseiul.
"My good friends," he said, "there is one thing which we have forgotten to consider. We are all of us soldiers and country gentlemen, and many of us have, perhaps, a certain tincture of belles lettres; but a petition from the whole body of Protestants should be drawn up by some person eminent alike for learning, wisdom, and piety, whose very name may be a recommendation to that which he produces. What say you, then, to request Monsieur Claude de l'Estang to draw up the petition for our whole body. I intend to leave Poitiers to-morrow, and will communicate your desire to him. The paper shall be sent to you all as soon as it is drawn up, and nothing will remain but to place our hands to it, and lay it before the King."
The proposal was received with joy by all; for even those who were pressing their own plans obstinately were at heart glad to be delivered from the responsibility; and this having been decided, the meeting broke up.
The Count de Morseiul lingered for a few minutes after the rest were gone to speak with Marshal Schomberg, who asked, "So you are not going to wait for the opening of the states?"
"I see no use of so doing," replied the Count; "now that I know the measures which the King's commission dictates, I have nothing farther to detain me. But tell me, Marshal, do you really believe that Louvois and his abettors will urge the King seriously to such steps?"
"To a thousand others," replied Schomberg; "to a thousand harsher, and a thousand more dangerous measures. I can tell you that it is already determined to prohibit for the future the marriages of Catholics and Protestants. That, indeed, were no great evil, and I think rather favourable to us, than not; but it is only one out of many encroachments on the liberty of conscience, and, depend upon it, our sole hope is in opening the King's eyes to our real character as a body, and to the awful evils likely to ensue from oppressing us."
"But should we be unable so to do," demanded the Count, "what remains for us then, my noble friend? Must we calmly submit to increasing persecution? must we renounce our faith? must we resist and die?"
"If by our death," replied Schomberg firmly, but sadly, "we could seal for those who come after us, even with our hearts' blood, a covenant of safety--if by our fall in defence of our religion we could cement, as with the blood of martyrs, the edifice of the reformed church--if there were even a hope that our destruction could purchase immunity to our brethren or our children, I should say that there is but one course before us. But, alas! my good young friend, do you not know, as well as I do, that resistance is hopeless in itself, and must be ruinous in its consequences; that it must bring torture, persecution, misery, upon the women, the children, the helpless; that it must crush out the last spark of toleration that is likely to be left; and that the ultimate ruin of our church in France will but be hastened thereby? No one deserving the title of man, gentleman, or Christian, will abandon his religion under persecution; but there is another course to be taken, and it I shall take, if these acts against us be not stayed. I will quit the land--I will make myself a home elsewhere. My faith shall be my country, as my sword has been my inheritance! Would you take my advice, my dear Count, you would follow my example, and forming your determination before hand, be prepared to act when necessary."
The Count shook his head. "I thank you," he said, "I thank you, and will give what you propose the fullest consideration; but it is a resolution that cannot be taken at once--at least by such as feel as I do. Oh! my good friend, remember how many ties I have to break asunder before I can act as you propose. There are all the sweet memories of youth, the clinging household dreams of infancy, the sunny home of my first days, when life's pilgrimage took its commencement in a garden of flowers. I must quit all these,--every dear thing to which the remembrance of my brightest days is attached--and spend the autumn and the winter of my latter life in scenes where there is not even a memory of its spring. I must quit all these, Schomberg. I must quit more. I must quit the faithful people that have surrounded me from my boyhood--who have grown up with me like brothers--who have watched over me like fathers--who have loved me with that hereditary love that none but lord and vassal can feel towards each other--who would lay down their lives to serve me, and who look to me for direction, protection, and support. I must quit them, I must leave them a prey to those who would tear and destroy them. I must leave, too, the grave of my father, the tombs of my ancestors, round which the associations of the past have wreathed a chain of glorious memories that should bind me not to abandon them. I, too, should have my grave there, Schomberg; I, too, should take my place amongst the many who have served their country, and left a name without a stain. When I have sought the battle field, have I not thought of them, and burned to accomplish deeds like theirs? When I have been tempted to do any thing that is wrong, have I not thought upon their pure renown, and cast the temptation from me like a slimy worm? And should I leave those tombs now? Were it not better to do as they would have done, to hang out my banner from the walls against oppression, and when the sword which they have transmitted to me can defend my right no longer, perish on the spot which is hallowed by the possession of their ashes?"