by Eugène Sue
“Civil war is a fearful extremity. All the same, the day may come when the men of arms will be needed by the Reformation.”
“May that untoward day never arrive! My opinion is that patience, resignation and respect for the laws and the Crown should be carried to the utmost limit possible. Nevertheless, should the sword have to be drawn, not for the purpose of imposing the Evangelical church through violence, but for the purpose of defending our lives, and the lives of our brothers, I should not, then, hesitate to call upon the men of arms who are partisans of the Reformation. Among these, it is my belief, we shall number a young man who has barely emerged from adolescence, and who gives promise of becoming a great captain at maturer age. He is called Gaspard of Coligny. His father bore himself bravely in the late wars of Italy and Germany. He died leaving his sons still in their childhood. Madam Coligny raised them in the Evangelical faith. About a year ago I found a place of refuge under her roof, at her castle of Chatillon-on-the-Loing, in Burgundy. I there met her eldest son, Gaspard. The precocious intellectual maturity of the lad, his devotion to our cause, awakened in me the best of hopes. He will be one of the pillars of the new temple — besides a terrible enemy raised against the Pope and Satan.”
“Monsieur,” put in Christian, interrupting John Calvin in a low voice, “we are shadowed. I have noticed for some little while three men not far behind us, who seem to be timing their steps to ours.”
“Let us stop, let us allow them to pass. We shall ascertain whether they are bent upon following us. They may be friends, like ourselves bound to our assembly.”
Christian and John Calvin halted. Shortly they were passed by three men clad in dark colors, and all three carrying swords. One of these seemed, as he passed closely by John Calvin, to scan his face intently in the moonlight. A moment later, after having proceeded a little distance with his friends, he left them, retraced his steps, and walking towards Christian and his companion, said, courteously touching his cap with his hand:
“Monsieur Calvin, I am happy to meet you.”
“Monsieur Coligny!” exclaimed the reformer gladly. “You did come — as I hoped you would.”
“It was natural I should respond to the summons of him whose doctrines I share, and for whom my mother entertains so much esteem and affection.”
“Are the two gentlemen you are with of our people, Monsieur Coligny?”
“Yes. One is French, the other a foreigner, both devoted to our cause. I have felt safe to bring them to our assembly. I vouch for them, as for myself. The foreigner is a German Prince, Charles of Gerolstein, a cousin of the Prince of Deux-Ponts, and, like him, one of the boldest followers of Luther. My other friend, a younger son of Count Neroweg of Plouernel, one of the great seigneurs of Brittany and Auvergne, is as zealous in favor of the Reformation as his elder brother for the maintenance of the privileges and dominion of the Church of Rome.”
“Sad divisions of the domestic hearth!” observed John Calvin with a sigh. “It is to be hoped the truth of the Evangelium may penetrate and enlighten all the hearts of the great family of Christ!”
“May that era of peace and harmony soon arrive, Monsieur Calvin,” replied Gaspard of Coligny. “The arrival of that great day is anxiously desired by my friend Gaston, the Viscount of Plouernel and captain of the regiment of Brittany. With all his power has he propagated the Reformation in his province. To draw you his picture with one stroke, I shall add that my mother has often said to me I could not choose a wiser and more worthy friend than Gaston Neroweg, the Viscount of Plouernel.”
“The judgment of a mother, and such a mother as Madam Coligny, is not likely to go astray regarding her son’s choice of his friends,” answered John Calvin. “Our cause is the cause of all honorable people. I would like to express to your friends my great gratification at the support they bring to us.”
Gaspard of Coligny stepped ahead to inform his friends of John Calvin’s wish that they be introduced to him.
Upon hearing the name of the Viscount of Plouernel, Christian had started with surprise. Accident was bringing him in friendly contact with one of the descendants of the Nerowegs, that stock of Frankish seigneurs which the sons of Joel the Gaul had, in the course of generations, so often encountered, to their sorrow. He felt a sort of instinctive repulsion for the Viscount of Plouernel, and cast upon him uneasy and distrustful looks as, accompanied by Gaspard of Coligny and Prince Charles of Gerolstein, he stepped towards John Calvin. While the latter was exchanging a few words with his new friends, Christian examined the descendant of Neroweg with curiosity. His features reproduced the typical impress of his race — bright-blonde hair, aquiline nose, round and piercing eyes. Nevertheless, the artisan was struck by the expression of frankness and kindness that rendered the young man’s physiognomy attractive.
“Gentlemen,” said John Calvin, whose voice interrupted the meditations of Christian, “I am happy, in my turn, to introduce you to one of ours, Monsieur Lebrenn, a worthy coadjutor in the printing office of our friend Robert Estienne. Monsieur Lebrenn has incurred no little danger in affording hospitality to me. Moreover, it is to him we are indebted for the discovery of the locality where we are to meet to-night.”
“Monsieur,” replied Gaspard of Coligny addressing Christian with emotion, “my friends and I share the sentiments of gratitude that Monsieur John Calvin entertains for you.”
“Besides that, Monsieur Lebrenn,” added Neroweg, the Viscount of Plouernel, “I am delighted to meet one of the assistants of the illustrious Robert Estienne. All that we, men of arms and war, have to place at the service of the cause of religious liberty is our sword; but you and your companions in your pursuit, you operate a marvelous talisman — the press! Glory to that invention! Light follows upon darkness. No longer is Holy Writ, in whose name the Church of Rome imposed so many secular idolatries upon the people, an impenetrable mystery. Its truth owes to the press its second revelation. Finally, thanks to the effect of the press, the hope is justified that Evangelical fraternity will one day reign on earth!”
“You speak truly, Monsieur Plouernel. Yes, the invention of the press bears the mark of God’s hand,” observed John Calvin. “But the night advances. Our friends are surely waiting for us. Let us move on, and join them.”
With Gaspard of Coligny on one side, and the Viscount of Plouernel on the other, John Calvin, the great promoter of the new doctrines, proceeded to climb the slope of the hill of Montmartre.
Much to his regret, the extreme astonishment that the affable words of the descendant of the Plouernels threw him into, deprived Christian of the power to formulate an answer. He followed John Calvin in silence, without noticing that, for some time, Prince Charles of Gerolstein was examining him with increasing attention. This seigneur, a man in the full vigor of life, tall of stature, of a strong but open countenance, fell a little behind his friends and joined Christian, whom he thus addressed after walking a few steps beside him:
“Believe me, monsieur, if, a minute ago, I failed to render just praise, as my friends did, to the courageous hospitality you accorded John Calvin, I do not, therefore, appreciate any the less the generosity of your conduct. It was that your name fell strangely upon my senses. It awoke within me numerous recollections — family remembrances.”
“My name, Prince?”
“Spare me that princely title. Christ said: ‘All men are equal before God.’ We are all brothers. Your name is Lebrenn? Is Armorican Brittany the cradle of your family?”
“Yes, monsieur. It is.”
“Did your family live near the sacred stones of Karnak, before the conquest of Gaul by Julius Caesar?”
Christian looked at Charles of Gerolstein without attempting to conceal his astonishment at meeting a stranger acquainted with incidents that ran back so many centuries in his family’s history. The Prince pursued his interrogatory:
“Towards the middle of the Eighth Century, one of your ancestors, Ewrag by name, and son of Vortigern, one of the most intrepi
d defenders of the independence of Brittany, and grandson of Amael, who knew Charlemagne, left his native land to take up his home in the lands of the far North.”
“Yes, after the great Armorican insurrection. During that uprising the Bretons appealed for aid to the Northman pirates, who had established themselves at the mouth of the Loire. Ewrag afterwards embarked for the North with those sea-faring peoples.”
“Did he not leave behind two brothers?”
“Rosneven and Gomer.”
“Ewrag, who first settled down in Denmark, had a grandson named Gaëlo. In the year 912 he was one of the pirate chiefs who came down and besieged Paris under the command of old Rolf, later Duke of Normandy. Gaëlo was recognized as a member of your family by Eidiol, at that time dean of the Parisian skippers.”
“Yes, indeed. Gaëlo was taken wounded into the house of my ancestor Eidiol. While dressing the wound of the Northman pirate, the words ‘Brenn — Karnak’ were discovered, traced with indelible letters on his arm. It was a custom, often followed in those disastrous days, when ware or slavery frequently scattered a family to the four winds. They hoped, thanks to the indelible marks, to recognize one another should fresh upheavals happen to throw them again in one another’s way.”
“After wedding the Beautiful Shigne, one of the Buckler Maidens who joined the expedition of Rolf, Gaëlo returned to the North. Since then there have been no tidings of him.”
“Yes. For all these past centuries we have remained in ignorance concerning that branch of our family. But, monsieur, I cannot understand how you, a German Prince, can possess such exact information of my humble family, which, besides, is of Gallic race. I wish you would explain yourself.”
Christian was interrupted by John Calvin, who, turning back, said to him:
“Here we are at the top of the hill. Which path are we to follow now out of the many in sight? Be so good as to lead us out of this maze.”
“I shall walk ahead, and show you the path to follow,” answered Christian.
As Christian hastened his steps to take the lead of the group, the Prince of Gerolstein said to him:
“I can not at this moment carry on the conversation that for a thousand reasons I am anxious to hold with you. Where could I meet you again?”
“I live on the Exchange Bridge, facing the right side of the cross as you come from the Louvre.”
“I shall call upon you to-morrow evening, Monsieur Lebrenn;” and extending his hand to the artisan, Prince Charles of Gerolstein added: “Give me your hand, Christian Lebrenn, we are of the same blood. The cradle of my own stock is old Armorican Gaul. The course of the centuries, and the accidents of conquest have raised my house to sovereign rank, but it is of plebeian origin.”
After cordially clasping the hand of the amazed Christian, the Prince rejoined John Calvin and his friends. At that moment, Justin, who had been stationed on the lookout at the head of the rocky path that led to the quarry, walked rapidly up to his fellow workman, saying:
“I had begun to feel uneasy. All the persons who have been convoked to the meeting have arrived long ago. I counted sixty-two. I am here on the lookout. Master Robert Estienne requested one of our friends to plant himself near the mouth of the excavation leading to the underground issue of the cavern. You know that gallery, cut behind the large rock, which recently sheltered us from the eyes of Loyola and his disciples. I inspected the passage this morning. It is open.”
“In case of danger you will run and notify the assembly. I understand.”
“From his side also Master Robert Estienne’s friend will give the alarm in case of need. It is not likely the quarry will be invaded by both passages at once. One will always remain free. Our friends can deliberate in perfect safety.”
“If the gathering is not disturbed by some accident, friend Justin, I shall return by this path and we shall reenter Paris together.”
“Agreed. Our arrangements are made.”
A moment later, Christian, John Calvin and his friends entered the quarry. There they found assembled the leading partisans of the Reformation in Paris — lawyers, literary men, rich merchants, seigneurs, courtiers and men of arms and of science. Thus, besides Gaspard of Coligny, Prince Charles of Gerolstein and the Viscount of Plouernel, there were present the following personages of distinction: John Dubourg, a Parisian draper of St. Denis Street; Etienne Laforge, a rich bourgeois; Anthony Poille, an architect, and brother-in-law of Mary La Catelle, who, herself, had been invited as one of the most useful promoters of the Reformation; Clement Marot, one of the most renowned poets of those days; a young and learned surgeon named Ambroise Paré, the hope of his art and science, a charitable man who opened his purse even to the sufferers whom he attended; and Bernard Palissy, a potter, whose work will be imperishable, and who is as well versed in alchemy as he is celebrated in sculpture. A small number of chiefs of guilds were also present. The guilds, being plunged in ignorance, were still under the influence of the monks, and entertained a blind hatred for the Reformation. A few wax candles, brought along by several of the persons present, lighted the bowels of the cavern and threw a flickering glamor upon those grave and thoughtful faces. When John Calvin entered the cavern he was recognized by some of the reformers. His name immediately flew from mouth to mouth. Those who had not yet seen him drew nearer to contemplate him. The resolute stamp of his character was reflected upon his pensive countenance. A profound silence ensued. The reformers ranked themselves in a circle around their apostle. He stepped upon a block of stone in order to be better heard, and proceeded to address them:
“My dear brothers, I have just traversed the larger portion of France. I have conferred with most of our pastors and friends in order to determine in concert with them the articles of faith of the Evangelical religion, the basis of which was laid by the immortal Luther. If the formula of our common belief is adopted by you, such as it has been adopted by most of our friends, the unity of the reformed church will be an established thing. This is our Credo:
“‘We believe and confess that there is one only God, a sole, spiritual, eternal, invisible, infinite, incomprehensible, immutable essence, who is all-powerful, all-wise, all-good, all-just and all-merciful.’”
“That we believe; that we confess,” answered the reformers.
“‘We believe and confess,’” continued Calvin, “‘that God manifests Himself as such to man by creation, and by the preservation and guidance of creation; furthermore, by the revelation of His Word, gathered by Moses, and which constitutes what we call Holy Writ, contained in the canonical books of the Old and the New Testament.’”
“That is the Book; the only Book; the Code of good and evil; the instructor of men and of children alike; the divine source of all goodness, all power, all consolation, all hope!” responded the reformers.
“Moses was a disciple of the priests of Memphis. I can well see how he gave out this or that Egyptian dogma, as emanating from divine revelation — but that remains, however, a hypothesis. I do not accept the pretended sacredness of the texts,” said Christian Lebrenn, apart; while Calvin continued:
“‘We believe and confess that the Word contained in the sacred books, which proceed from God to man, is the norm of all truth; that it is not allowable for man to change the same in aught; that custom, judgments, edicts, councils and miracles must in no manner be opposed to Holy Writ, but, on the contrary, must be reformed by it.’”
“We want the Word of God pure and simple. We want it disengaged of all the Romish impostures, that, for centuries, have falsified and perverted it,” the reformers replied.
“Here,” said Christian, again to himself, “here starts the freedom of inquiry. That is the reason for my adherence to the Reformation.” Calvin resumed:
“‘We believe and confess that Holy Writ teaches us that the divine essence consists of three persons — the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, and that this Trinity is the source of all visible and invisible things. That is our belief.’”
“It is an article of faith with us; it is the foundation of our religion,” chorused the reformers, while Christian Lebrenn added, to himself:
“This also belongs to the domain of hypothesis — and of religious absurdities. One more article of faith to be rejected.”
“‘We believe and confess,’” continued Calvin, “‘that man, having been born pure and clean in the image of God, is, through his own sin, fallen from the grace he had received, and that all the descendants of Adam are tainted with original sin, down to the little children in their mothers’ wombs. That is our belief on these subjects.’”
“We are bound to accept all that is found in the sacred books. The will of the Lord is impenetrable — let it be done in all things. Our reason must humble itself before that which seems incomprehensible,” was the response of the reformers.
“Oh, God of Love and Mercy!” exclaimed Christian Lebrenn, apart. “To proclaim in Thy name that Thy will smites the unborn child even in its mother’s womb! Just God! Thou who knowest all things — past, present and to come — Thou knewest Thy creature, man, who is not but because Thou hast said, Be! was bound to fall into sin. Thou knewest it. Generations upon generations, all guiltless of the sin of the first man, were to undergo the terrible chastisement that it has pleased Thee to inflict upon them. Thou knewest it. And yet, Thou art supposed to have said: ‘Man, you will fall into sin. The original stain shall mark your children even in their mothers’ wombs’! Merciful God! Pardon the infirmity of my intellect. I cannot believe a father will devote his own children to eternal misery. I cannot believe a father can take pleasure in allowing his children’s mind to waver between justice and injustice, especially when he knows beforehand they are fatedly certain to elect iniquity, and when he knows the consequence of their choice will be fearful to themselves and to all their posterity. Just God! What is the constant aim of the thoughts and efforts of every honorable man, within the limits of his faculties? To give his children such an education as will keep them from the path of vice; an education that may justify him to say: ‘My children will be upright men!’ And yet, Thou, almighty God, Thou art supposed to have said: ‘I will that the evil inclinations of my children carry the day over the good ones; I will that they become criminals, and that they be forever damned!’ Never shall I accept such a doctrine.”