# The Rebellion in the Cevennes/Volume 1/Chapter X

CHAPTER X.
Edmond had again returned to consciousness, and on opening his eyes, he saw Mazel, by his couch and the swarthy Eustace, who although wounded himself, had stayed to serve him, and was kneeling by his bed; He could not for a long time recall to his recollection how he had come there, and the fierce looking men, with the view from the hut over the mountains and woods, threw him into a strange reverie; However, he was soon enabled to connect one idea with another, and to reassemble all his faculties. His imagination was still busied with Cavalier, he fancied he could follow and see him, now, as a shadow, then, brighter again, yet it seemed as if his feverish state presented him figuring to himself, in real ​colours and contour, the portrait of his friends and the place in which he was. Eustace kissed his hands and bathed them with tears. "Oh, my dear young master!" cried he then sobbing, "that you should now come among us, and have been obliged to experience anything so bad from our wildest prophet! yes, brother Ravanel, is the worst, should I have said in my stupidity, the most godless; may heaven forgive me my sins. No, all of us and himself too must often pray, that the Lord may moderate his ardent zeal, for he is almost always in anger, and only too frequently as if raving. Are you better, now, gracious sir?" Edmond pressed his hand and said, "I feel that the wound is not of much consequence, it was the loss, of blood alone made me faint; but brother Eustace, as I am now a brother to you all, leave off that empty mode of the men of the world, and call me thou, as it is customary among you."
"As thou wilt!" exclaimed the former greatly affected: "but I am as if in heaven, ​that thou brother, that thou, who wast so proud shouldst thus converse with me. They always deny miracles, and yet this is truly one."
"Leave him to repose, brother Eustace," said Mazel, "do not excite and tease him any more in order that he may be soon restored." "Relate to me," said Edmond, "brother Abraham, that my imagination may be directed to a fixed point, which otherwise in its diseased state is wandering lost and bewildered. Do I remember rightly, that thou saidst to-day in that extraordinary dispute, which my soul cannot even yet understand, thou hadst given rise to the present war. Or was it not so? tell me something about it, for although I have grown up in this neighbourhood, I know but little connected with these affairs."
Mazel replied: "It is true brother Edmond, it is also not true, as one may consider the matter, and thus it is perhaps with most things in the world. I was a lad of ​about twenty years of age, when, suddenly they abolished our reformed religion. It went to the hearts of all throughout the whole country. I was then only a forest-ranger in the service of the Lord of Mende, on the banks of the Rhone. About this time they began to emigrate from the country. Nobles, merchants, peasants, and citizens went away (for that was yet permitted) towards Switzerland, Holland, England and Germany, where they were well received, for the poorer ones were industrious mechanics, had knowledge of manufactures, and carried many arts and advantages to other lands. I had no inclination to go with them. Gracious heaven! home is sweet, where man is born, air and water seem good to him, where my language is understood, there is my heart. Added to this, I loved a maiden; and besides, they intended to make me a royal ranger. The thing pleased me, and with love, domestic joy and happines in my native land; I bound up the mouth of conscience so ​close, that like a dancing bear, it could not bite around it. The extensive emigration, the fortune that they carried away with them, caused a great sensation, this they had never suspected and probably thought all were quiet cattle like myself, and just as willing to let themselves be bound to the manger. Now under pain of being sent to the gallies, every body was prohibited to quit the country; Ah! that gave a shock, and completely so, when they did it in reality, and, as an example, several old noblemen were chained to the oar. The anguish was great in the land. All were forced to attend mass; the dragoons were sent out; the people tortured; the children shut up. The most enthusiastic went out together into the woods and caverns, and prayed there and preached to one another. Whomsoever they found thus employed,was without further ceremony broken alive on the wheel; hanging was a favour. Our Intendant thought to crush the affair with prompt violence, and ​appalling horror, that old and young needed only to be quickly reminded of their religion. People often think in reality, because they are themselves convinced of the matter, and that it is only carelessness in others: they wish to recall them to themselves, and often in the midst of their barbarity, they do not mean so badly towards them."
"Thou art right Mazel," interrupted Edmond, "I myself was of this belief a short time ago." "But now," continued the old man in his relation, "all our souls acquired an entirely different colour, they were clad in new vestments, for we had not thought of it thus, and we came to our recollection, but in a very different manner. Were I in the wood and my dog only whined, it seemed precisely to me as if it were my conscience. Yes, I was struck, I sought for, but could not find the hidden jewel. My wife then consoled me once more, and thought that all would certainly come round again.—Now it was strange enough, ​that a pious society had already long since arisen in Dauphiné. An aged man lived there upon a high mountain in the middle of a wood. He had a glass manufactory in that solitude. Now we have all experienced that mountain and valley, the air that one breathes there, the murmurings, the singular voices, the cry and the echo, make a man bolder, fresher, and also more imaginative; he no longer fears his brethren in the cities, he prizes not so highly the stone-houses and the smooth streets, and all the singing of bells. The man Du Serre had visions and revelations. He did not, however, go about preaching. He, as well as myself, was wanting in that gift, but he was endowed with that of foresight. Can one learn that from another? we must believe it, and our times confirrm it. But how? there lies the riddle! Should it be called an art? by no means! The enemies call it imposture, that is impious. Well, this glass-manufacturer kept fifteen young men in his house, and his wife as ​many young girls; they almost all experienced the enlightening, and the greater part of them the gift of preaching. Thus then did they go out into the world. The fame of the beautiful Isabelle was soon spread abroad. She seduced every-body to apostacy, as the others termed it. Still more efficaciously did a youth, named Gabriel Astier, teach and convert. A part of Dauphiné and our neighbourhood of Vivarès soon became one flame of religion. The children then already began to prophecy. But the poor creatures, without weapons of defence in their too zealous faith, were surprised by the soldiers, and the greatest number massacred. Our Basville and his son-in-law, the Marshal Broglio, bore the fame of having massacred them all. Gabriel also, who had become a soldier in Montpellier, was recognized and executed, and the lovely Isabelle from fear, in the dungeon of Grenoble, retracted from her faith, and thus all had the appearance of tranquillity. Sparks of the ​faith, however, and of the force of miracles had been scattered and lost in the Cevennes. For the spirit possesses the property of fire, which, out of a little spark, by which a small beetle cannot warm itself, grows, in a few hours, into a brand that lays woods in ashes, and mocks all human efforts to extinguish it. What may not lie in one single word? Oh thou mournful sound, like the twittering of the swallow, thou appearest to die away in the wilderness, the spirit conducts thee through the world, and puts thee on a coat of mail that armies grow out of the ground, and horses and riders, and thousands sent by kings with the thunder of artillery, were not able to make the little world as quiet and small as it lay formerly in the solitary cottage. Praised be the Lord!"
He prayed inwardly, and then continued: "In the meantime, people became older and wiser but certainly more obstinate, I already began to think no more of my former faith, nor had the new one ​either much effect on my heart. I was an ass between two hayricks, and ate of neither.
"A man of the name of Beoussan, a man of God, lived first at Nismes, and afterwards at Toulouse. He was a reformer and a lawyer, who always, and when the people were poor, gratuitously took up the cause of his companions of the faith: His was a spirit full of gentleness and goodness. He went into foreign countries, became a priest in Switzerland, preached there and in Holland, and edified thousands. Him did the spirit and his native land lead back into our country and then the Lord conducted me to him in the wilderness. My wife was dead at that time, and lonely and childless, as I then was, my whole heart that had lain so long untilled, was again enabled to bear genuine fruit. It was, as if I begun from that time to imbibe again a portion of heavenly comfort in my cottage. Thus things went on. I was no longer in ignorance, but ​I was not yet happy. This would not last, hail-showers sometimes destroyed my seed, and when I often lay in wait with the best dispositions, and with an open and acute mind, loaded and ready to shoot, there came no game, no animal sprang up in the wilderness of my heart. Ah, we totter on thus pitiably for years, and time passes as a dream and intoxication. I glanced round me, I had become old. How! thought I, when the Lord looks down, he will see furrows on thy old, skin and thou art still neither hot, nor cold. Then came the late Mr. Beoussan, the holy master, among us. An impulse of the spirit, as he said, led him to us. He was well and comfortable at home, but, pious bird of the forest! he wished to visit once more his beloved mountains, dells, the clear brooks, and to pour so thrillingly, fully, and affectionately into our hearts the tones of the sweet nightingale, that burst from his breast, that he must die from the effort.—Amen!—"
​He stopped again, and Edmond said: "I often saw this pious Beoussan at Nismes, before he was executed. It is not yet five years since he sealed his doctrine with an ignominious death."
"Then," pursued Abraham Mazel, "All the former restrictions were renewed with greater severity. We could not speak, scarcely think without being betrayed. A year had now elapsed, when an assembly of religious people in Alais was surprised by Basville, they were all dragged to prison, and all, without further enquiries, were sentenced to martyrdom. This took place in October. I had also been present, and only escaped through a miracle. I had already seen some of the prophecying children here and there, without profit, my heart became rather colder at the sight, because the little worms did not please me in that state. Now, after my day's work was finished, I sat in solitude, tired and exhausted from riding, and looked round at the green meadows, the sky and the mountains. I tried, in my inmost soul, to unravel the ​mystery, why all should be thus and not otherwise, how God and man, virtue and sin, in and through one another, and how in this entwined knot, now and then the rays of eternity shine down into this temporal world, and how, in one short moment, we feel and experience within us the whole unfathomable eternity, and many thousand thoughts and feelings, of which the smallest in the tittle of time is allowed no place. Also why we were so miserable, and what was the end of the Lord in this. Behold, my friend, there descended a vast stream of thoughts from heaven, (I saw, but knew not one word, one letter of it) and alighted as with large eagle’s wings upon my brain and roared and murmured there, and the marrow of my back became cold as ice, and, my inmost soul was congealed and frozen, and my teeth chattered with fear. How the breath lost itself in my breast, and now it was as if little cooing doves were flying through the immeasureable space of my soul. A gentle heat came over me and my heart ​sprung open as the rose out of its bud on a spring morning, and the Lord was within me. Then I fell down and my prayer was prophecy. Oh, how could I have thought that his presence was so sweet, who, with his glory, almost broke down the wall of the narrow dwelling. Thanks be to him for ever and ever, Amen!"
"His wonders are immeasureable and unspeakable," said Edmond.
"Many," said Abraham in continuation, "whose faith was suspected, were imprisoned throughout the whole country. They were most severely treated by the Abbé Chaila who resided in the Château Pont Mont-de-Verd. Parents, husbands and betrothed mourned for those that had been carried off. It would have been sinful to place my light under a bushel. I summoned together a little community of zealous souls in the forest, there they witnessed my inspiration, and their courage was raised. It was in the middle of summer, and I prophesied to them that ​they should release the prisoners. The following night we assembled together, and Pervier, a young man, whose bride was languishing in the prisons, undertook the command. They advanced in front of the dwelling; the Abbé's servants fired from the windows and killed three of our friends. We now ceased to sing psalms, and stormed the castle with trees and firebrands. The gates gave way, we entered, and encountered the Abbé in his chamber. He suffered his dungeon to be opened, we then assured him that he should receive no injury. The prisoners came forth; weeping, joy, sobbing, and singing filled the house. Then they shewed their wounds, the marks of the torture, dimmed eyes and sunken cheeks. A shout for murder resounded around. But Pervier and I appeased the maddened people by word and deed. The Abbé heard the noise, was terrified at our movements, and to save himself, he sprang from a high window into the road, and lay dashed to pieces on ​the ground. His attendants and many of us ran up to him. "The Lord has judged him for his cruelties," exclaimed several voices; they lay down by his side to look into his dying eyes. Many, in spite of their emotion, could not conceal their malicious joy, and thus in reality, our first act was the beginning of the war, a story, which, in order to defame us, they have entirely altered."
"It is believed," said Edmond, that you criminally and wantonly murdered him."
"Had it depended upon the will of one that was among us," continued Mazel, "that, and much more would have happened. A stout, fierce man was of our party, who very unwillingly submitted to the commands of the moderate Pervier; you know him by his fame, Esprit Seguier. In him already burned the fire, which now shines forth in Catinat and Ravanel, and even then many were of opinion, that this was the true religion, and that the zeal of Elias ​and not the gentleness of St. John should save us. We all retired quietly, cheerfully, and happily. Not one of us had been discovered. Then Seguier assembled a troop as fierce as himself, and while the soldiers were seeking for us, returned to Pont-de-Verd, burnt the castle, slaughtered all the priests that he found there, and cut down all whom they encountered. But misfortune overtook them. They were defeated; when they sought for the leader, he himself issued from a cottage, and declared his name. 'Wretch!' exclaimed the commander, what treatment dost thou deserve for thy deeds?' 'That which I would give thee, wert thou my prisoner.' replied the enthusiast, 'and verily, such as thy friends would not rejoice over.' He remained firm to the last. He was burnt alive. A proclamation was then issued, offering pardon to all that knew anything of the affair of the Abbé, as well as to such as had been, up to that period, Huguenots in secret. Innocent beings! ​poor deluded ones! they presented themselves, and were all hanged before their doors, even those, who had never been at Pont-de-Verd. Their anger was now no longer to be restrained, the young men rebelled, I led them to Pervier, arms were sought for, those who had none, took hatchet and sicle; a regiment advanced to oppose us on the left of Karnaulè. As soon as we began to sing, the troops became intimidated; we rushed upon them, their balls were of no effect, we hewed them down, five only escaped, to tell the news of their defeat. Broglio himself then advanced upon us, but he was driven back! A christian festival of thanksgiving was held in the forest, and the Lord prophesied out of me to the edification of all warriors. In our next combat Pervier was wounded, and appointed La Porte our leader; but he did not feel that he was ordained to suffer martyrdom, and soon went with his young wife to Geneva. Then the bold La Porte fought the fearful battle before La Salle, of ​which thou must have heard. He soon afterwards died gloriously of his wounds, for they all opened afresh, when he was nearly cured, he sang psalms at divine service, with so much ardour, that twenty wounded arteries bled at once, and thus his soul, in red streams, and while he was still singing, hastened up to heaven. To him succeeded his nephew, our brother Roland, in command."
The latter advanced at that moment and affectionately enquired after Edmond’s health, and then charged Mazel to place sentinels round about, for that Lord Flotard was coming and had private matters to discuss with him, which no one was permitted to hear. Abraham retired, and immediately from the opposite wood issued a richly dressed man, towards whom Roland politely advanced, and both then hastened to a distance, where they walked up and down on the skirt of the wood engaged in earnest conversation.
​"Canst thou hear what they say?" asked Edmond of the aged Eustace.
"No, brother," replied the latter, "how is that possible, since they are so far from us, that I can scarcely distinguish them?"
But Edmond, when he turned his thoughts on Roland, could, to his great surprise, understand all clearly and distinctly, so that not one word of the conversation escaped him.
"I thank you sir," said Roland, "these sums come just in right time, and will help to supply the unfortunate soldiers with those necessaries that they have been so long compelled to forego." "And you remain obstinate," demanded the former, "and will not accept anything for yourself and the other leaders?"
"Do not mention that," said Roland, "you ought to know us at last. We have not undertaken this holy war for robbery and gain: we are all willing to remain poor. But the succours, where do they ​tarry? we do what we can with short means, but a great calamity may annihilate us at once, and then all assistance from without will come too late, even now, a small one would be very acceptable. But already I forbode the future, they will let us languish and perish, and then lament that they did not lend us assistance sooner. It is ever thus, when one trusts to foreign aid."
"Therefore a sum could—in all cases"— observed the stranger.
"No," cried Roland with great vehemence; "Oh sir, do you think then that I anticipate a happy result? I will live and die in this struggle, end as it may. When I had the courage to take up the sword, I at the same time threw away the scabbard too. I have devoted myself to ruin. My name may be stained, the better part of mankind shall feel that I was not debased, that, notwithstanding all, I was a good subject."
"A good subject?" said the stranger ​inquiringly, "I understand the strangeness of these words. You think that I, a rebel, an outlaw, who even accepts sums of money from foreign lands, may be purchased at a cheap rate by the enemies of my king, and that I should maliciously rejoice at every calamity that befell my sovereign. But it is not thus, no Frenchman sinks so low. Let the king give us liberty of conscience, and lame, starved, and bleeding at every pore, we will still fight for him against England and Germany. And never would I, and my friends lend our aid to bring our country under a foreign yoke; even should he persist to act thus cruelly towards us: do not calculate upon that. But I will fight for my cause in an honourable manner, as long as breath is in me. Weak as we may be, we occupy a whole army, and with it lend efficient succour to foreign countries. Do you not think, that with these sentiments, I may call myself a good subject, though certain of my ultimate ruin, ​by acting thus, I spare my king and country? I fall in the fight here, or imprisonment, ignominy and martyrdom await me, no spark of commiseration lights me on. I do not kindle the fiery zeal and wrath of my people, in order, to break blindly into the land, to hazard all on a dangerous game, by which the infuriated often win, I rather restrain them. For myself I do nothing, for my party and my religion everything. Could I but avoid involving these unfortunate men in my ruin! But the king and fate have ordained it so."
"I am further to enquire," said Flotard anew, "whether experienced officers should not be brought into the mountains as leaders?"
"I oppose that," said Roland gravely, "not on my own account. I know not how we carry on the war, but still this little mountain-spot occupies a great number of disciplined troops. We have done more than we ever dared to think of, even in our dreams. And all those poor ​enthusiastic men, who never enquire how numerous the foe may be, rush with songs of praise upon the bayonet, and into the flames of the stake; they would follow no foreign leader, who did not share with them the same faith, and the same distress, for as I have already said, it is not their wish to be rioters and rebels, and thus follow a foreign standard, though with greater safety. They fight and conquer only under their own known country-people, who pray and sing with them, whose origin they know, and whose prophecies impel them to rush fearlessly into the most palpable danger."
"They laugh at those prophets in foreign countries," said Flotard, "What is your opinion of them?" "I know not what to say to it," answered Roland; "I frequently see the miracle before my eyes, that these men know things which no one can learn by natural means; but again it often strikes me, that blind passion alone speaks out of them, and that they voluntarily ​excite themselves to this state. The prophets sometimes contradict one another. They direct our proceedings, and it occurs occasionally that my regulations deviate from their wishes, but I have sometimes had reason to repent of this.—Come now to the magazines, and we shall consider what may be most necessary to us.
Roland called out, and accompanied by a few followers, they both penetrated into the darkness of the forest.
END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.