While this was going on, the third band expected at the Molard, that headed by Canon Veigy, had assembled in the upper part of the city. The immobility of the reformers, who did not leave Baudichon's house, fretted the canon and those whom he commanded. 'They keep themselves still as hares,' he said: 'we must compel them to leave their form.' This they prepared to do. It had been decided, as we have said, by Moine and his friends, the chiefs of the movement, that they should surround and set fire to Baudichon's house, so that the heretics should be stifled, burnt, driven out, and dispersed. In the opinion of some it was a capital idea of the huguenots to shut themselves up in one house, for by this means a single match would suffice to get rid of them.... But the plan of fire-raising was not to everybody's taste. 'It cannot be done without great mischief,' said the wiser heads; 'the whole street might be burnt down.'... The barbarous plan had, however, been resolved on, and its execution entrusted to Canon Veigy's corps. It was a churchman who had been charged with the cruel duty. 'Canon de Veigy was to pass through the narrow street of the Trois Rois,[680] behind the Rhone, set fire to Baudichon's house, and drive the others into the street, so that they could escape nowhere.'[681]
The canon's band was preparing to descend into the city to perform its task, when some catholics, running to the hôtel-de-ville, announced the defeat of the troops from St. Gervais. 'We may expect a similar encounter,' said the canon and his subordinates; and being not at all eager to measure weapons with the captain-general, they resolved to join the crowd on the Molard, by passing to the east, in order to be out of the reach of Philippe's attack, and to have a reinforcement to burn the huguenots. Changing their direction, they descended by the Rue Verdaine. When they arrived at the Molard, they were very ill received. Everybody reproached them, calling them cowards and traitors. The priest-party were 'greatly astonished and vexed because they had not set fire to the house, as had been agreed upon.'[682]
=HUGUENOTS ON THE DEFENSIVE.=
The news of this scheme for burning them out had reached the citadel of the reformed. Maisonneuve and his friends hesitated no longer. Thus far they had responded to the fury of their adversaries by remaining quiet; they desired as much as possible to spare the effusion of blood; but now their moderation became useless. At first they had been only sixty, their numbers had increased, but they were still inferior to their adversaries: they determined, however, to repel force by force.[683] They sallied forth, therefore, calm and silent, for they felt the gravity of the moment. On arriving in the Rue des Allemands they drew up in line of battle five deep, according to the Swiss practice. The front rank was about 250 paces from the enemy. They were determined not to take the offensive. 'We will wait for our adversaries,' they said; 'but if they attack us, we will sooner die than retreat a single step.'
Although they were, as we have said, by no means numerous in comparison with the several catholic bands, they were firm and full of hope. There were neither priests, women, nor children with them to embarrass them: all were stout, resolute, disciplined men, who feared not to fight one against ten. They did not, however, place their confidence in their strength; they did 'not turn from one side to the other to set their hopes in vain things;' the most pious among them 'repeated that there was not one spark of certain help for them except in God alone.'
The fight was about to begin. The reformed, knowing that the city artillery had been surrendered by the Bossu to their adversaries and pointed at the Molard, had procured some cannon, probably by the intervention of the captain-general. The huguenots marching boldly on two sides of the great square, had planted their guns—some in the Rue du Rhone, others in the Rue du Marché, only ninety paces from the catholics. On each side the artillery was ready to be discharged, the arquebuses were loaded, the spears and halberds were in the hands of the combatants, the women and children of the Romish party were bringing stones. There were transports of anger, cries, and terrible threats.[684] All were prepared for the onset, and a massacre seemed inevitable.[685]
At this moment the sound of a trumpet was heard; it was not the signal of battle, but the prelude: the city crier, stopping at the corner of some neighbouring street, proclaimed, 'that every foreigner should retire to his lodging under pain of three lashes with a rope.' In this way they cleared the place where the battle was to be fought. The trumpet and the crier's shrill voice soon died away, and there was a deathlike silence. On each side there were noble souls, lovers of peace, who were a prey to the deepest emotions at the thought that brothers were about to attack brothers, and many turned a sorrowful look on the streets that were soon to be stained with the blood of their fellow-citizens. These compassionate men would have liked to restrain the fratricidal arms, but they trembled before the priests. 'No one,' says a contemporary, 'dared venture to speak to the ecclesiastics to propose peace; the great pride of the priests intimidated them, and they feared to be called Lutherans.'[686] To desire to prevent the shedding of blood, was to be a partisan of the Reformation.[687] The parties cast threatening glances at each other, and the two armies were about to come into violent collision.
=PRAYERS AND TEARS.=
Then the agony burst forth. Some of the wives, mothers, and daughters, who were in the Place du Molard, and who up to this moment had been full of ardour for the combat, were moved and could not restrain their anguish. The tenderness of their sex resumed its sway: they let go their aprons, and the stones contained in them fell to the ground. They burst into tears and gave utterance to long and sorrowful moaning. 'Alas!' they said, 'the father is armed against the son, brother against brother, neighbour against neighbour.... They are all ready to kill one another.'[688] The emotion became almost universal.
Whilst many of the catholic women were thus transformed, the evangelical women who remained at home were praying. They reflected that, however the world may torment and vex, nothing can happen but what God Himself has ordained. They put the immutable decree of the Lord, who wills to maintain the kingdom of His Son for ever, in opposition to the wicked conspiracies by which the men of the world assail it, and doubted not that God would look upon and help them in their necessity.