The Arm and the Darkness

by Caldwell, Taylor;

  De Tremblant spoke in a reflective and disturbed voice: “If this is true, and I am assured that Monsieur le Duc would not so inform us if there was the slightest doubt of it,” and he bowed to de Rohan, “then the possibilities of what confronts us is menacing in the extreme. We know the sleepless hatred of this—certain lady—and we know that if the Duc de Richelieu is won by her, we are lost. There is no end to the probabilities. La Rochelle will be attacked. The Edict of Nantes will be revoked. The Huguenots will be destroyed, or exiled, in every corner of France. Civil war will come again amongst us. We shall then be open to assault by England, by the Germanies, and we shall be invaded by the Habsburgs under the pretense of a holy alliance with us against the ‘heretics.’ This is the end of France.”

  De Bouillon gazed at him with his cold and watchful eyes. “If La Rochelle is attacked, and falls, it does not follow that all of us are lost,” he said, meditatively. He thought of Sedan again, and the Rhenish state always in his thoughts, and he said to himself that at the worst he could come to an understanding with the Cardinal.

  De Tremblant, always acutely aware of the thoughts passing in the minds of others, turned to de Bouillon, and in a trembling voice, exclaimed: “Monsieur, do not believe for an instant that any corner of France will be safe if La Rochelle falls. There is no amnesty for traitors, either from the enemy or from former friends.”

  De Bouillon regarded him with his cold masked expression which betrayed nothing. De Tremblant continued:

  “There are some, for the sake of expediency, for personal ambition and devious and selfish designs, who would betray France. These are not Frenchmen. They are only evil men. Inexorable fate invariably overtakes them. This is the evidence of history. Unfortunately, before they are punished, the innocent are lost. We know, now, that the traitor must always be the first the patriot must destroy. Be assured, Messieurs,” and he turned to the others with a moved countenance, “I have always been a man of peace, but I shall consider it my duty as a Frenchman to kill the traitor with my own hand.”

  De Rohan laughed loudly, and clapped the other on the shoulder. “What extravagance! There are no traitors here, my friend. Or, do you suspect one of us?”

  But de Tremblant did not smile. He was too shaken. “I suspect no man by repute of others, but only when I have discovered him myself.”

  The faintest flicker of contempt glimmered in de Bouillon’s chilly eyes, but he did not move even a finger. The Comte Van Tets had listened to this with profound attention, and his glance dwelt on each man separately.

  Paul, who had sensed some menace in the room, was greatly disturbed. He looked about at the company, appealingly. “I am certain that none of us has a deeper love or a deeper allegiance than France. I trust, Messieurs, that you will hear me, and, after me, our distinguished visitor. It is necessary that I speak first,” he added, with an apologetic glance at the Dutchman, “for what I will say he will confirm.”

  Arsène had been wandering about the room, surveying the books critically, with his new-found interest. Now he returned to the group seated about the fireplace.

  Paul was silent for a few moments before speaking. As he gathered his words in his mind, he looked at the assembled gentlemen with desperate pleading in his eyes, as if he implored them to comprehend his sincerity, his passionate conviction. There was none in all of Paris, who, entering into the circle of the young Comte’s personality, could hate him, for one knew instantly that here was a spirit without cruelty or malice, and filled only with good will and gentleness and compassion. Even de Bouillon could not despise him. He reverenced men of power, and though Paul’s power was strange to him, and suspect, he still admired it. Moreover, that inhuman heart was mysteriously touched.

  He began to speak, urgently yet softly, his voice filled with the potentialities of passion; his hands half lifted as his burning eyes engaged each gentleman separately:

  “It has been said that Protestantism is the heir of all the good men of the ages. The men of heart and sensibility and pity, the men who formulated the revolutionary doctrine that all men are brothers, and that each soul is equal before God. On this premise, they have declared that men should rightfully be equal before other men, not oppressed, not unjustly punished, not regarded without mercy, not destroyed wantonly by tyrants. They have declared that a man’s thoughts and his honest words should be respected, that no hindrance be placed upon a man’s coming and going, and that his home is inviolate, and that the fruits of the earth shall not be withheld from him when he has earned them by labor and courage.

  “These are simple things. These are simple verities. They were said by noble men in Egypt, in Israel, in Greece and in Rome. They were said by Erasmus, by Luther, and their followers. But only a few have believed them.”

  He paused. De Tremblant’s long ugly face was deeply moved. De Rohan stared with open mouth and blinking russet eyes. The Dutchman, seated near the fire, had bent his head and his hand partially concealed his face. Arsène, standing near his friend, felt a mysterious swelling of his heart, a mounting excitement. But de Bouillon listened with an expression of restrained but amazed contempt, his fingertips feeling his rigid mouth.

  Paul resumed, in a quickened and rising voice: “The Roman Church has professed to espouse these principles of brotherhood, justice, mercy and compassion. It has professed to believe in that equality of man propounded by Jesus.

  “Nevertheless, without mercy, and only with oppression, cruelty, persecution and hatred, its actions have denied all this. It has done so since its accession to power. Power has corrupted it. While its voices utter the noblest of truths, its priestly agents have set themselves against the oppressed and the defenseness, against the thinkers and the liberators. For it knows that should mankind universally awaken, it will be robbed of the power it has obtained through its service to tyrants and murderers, the rich and the noble.

  “The Church has set its face against the enlightenment of the people. Once the Duc de Richelieu said to me: ‘I would say the greatest calamity Europe suffered in the past five hundred years, is not Luther, but the printing press. For that, we cannot forgive the Germans.’ This frankness is not only his own. The Church has frequently expressed its opposition to the universal enlightenment of men. For it understands that access to the thoughts of the great ages will make man think. It has always set its face against the thinker, for the thinker arouses other men to a realization of their dignity before God and man, and has given them strange and angry thoughts, full of indignation against the oppressor.

  “The Church has declared that God has decreed the situation and the state of every man, that if he is born humble and hopeless, he must remain in that condition, nor revolt against his masters. This is excellent for the masters, whom the Church so slavishly serves! The Church has decreed poverty and ignorance, obedience and humility for the huge mass of the miserable people, and charity, piety and power for the rich and the fortunate. In this way it has mortally offended the greater portion of the world, by relegating it to the level of lower beasts, and has exalted those who by the accident of birth have inherited power and privilege. By this doctrine, by its service to the great, it has obtained power for itself.”

  His voice, urgent and passionate, held his listeners, though to three, at least, his words were revolutionary and astounding. But de Tremblant, smiling tremulously, leaned forward a little the better to hear. The young Comte’s face was radiant with fervor, with the light of his dedicated and unselfish spirit. His eyes burned and flashed in the mingled firelight and candlelight, as if illuminated by an inner conflagration.

  “In the beginning,” he continued, “Protestantism set itself against the injustice and the oppression of the Church and those it served. It set itself against the dark ignorance which that Church had advocated for all those multitudes of the nameless and the despairing. Erasmus wrote of these things. Luther, with his great and powerful voice, projected them into the world of all men. In the beginning, Protesta
ntism was liberation for mankind from the chains and the whips of centuries of domination by the Church. It lit a lamp which had been unlighted for hundreds of years, and showed the misery and the torment which the Church had inflicted upon the mute and the disinherited of the ages.

  “God had placed His blessing on the spiritual revolution of Protestantism. For the first time in centuries the people lifted themselves from all fours and gazed, blinded, on the light of liberation. A new dawn seemed heralded. Protestantism, for the first time in human history, had universally and actually projected into reality the ideals of fraternity, liberty and equality. It promised to sustain these ideals, to project them into history as a revivifying and powerful force, free and life-giving. The Church feared and hated it, for it knew that Protestantism was the drums which would awaken men everywhere from the sloth and the inertia of oppression and despair.”

  No man moved as he spoke. De Bouillon’s countenance had seemed to recede into shadowy pallor and narrowness, so it was less a countenance than a spectral outline. But strange to say, the face of de Rohan, gross, strong and brutal, had changed, become refined and eager, as if that earthy soul had felt the touch of a new and mystical spring. Strange, too, there was a kind of shame in his vivid eyes. He thought to himself: So my father spoke, and I have forgotten!

  But Paul’s face had darkened, become attenuated with suffering and anguish. His hands lifted, dropped to his sides.

  “But in these last hundred years, the dawn has fallen back into the night. The shout of liberation is silent. For Protestantism was seized upon by the great princes to throw off the grasp of the Church on large areas of land, and immense wealth which they coveted for themselves. It must be admitted that to a certain extent the Church had restrained the princes from too much seeking after personal power. Now, the princes would be revenged. They cared nothing for the liberation of their people, for the enlightenment of the souls of men, for the principles of liberty, equality and fraternity. Protestantism was the trumpet that called them to revolt against the restrictions of the Church which denied them complete power, which it jealously wished to retain in its own hands. The dream was lost. Man has been compelled again to wait for another day of liberation. Between the upper stone of the Church, and the nether stone of the Protestant princes, the multitudes were ground and crushed. But the cold and sterile Protestantism of the princes held no warmth, no hope, no vitality for the people.”

  He lifted his hand again, and cried out in a strong and impetuous voice:

  “Against the lust for power of the Church, against its betrayal of the oppressed and the helpless, and against the rapacity, treachery, cynicism and political expediency of the powerful Protestant nobles, we equally set our hearts and our hands! Both are enemies of the freedom, justice, peace and dignity, of men. Neither has in it a true and compassionate religion, an awareness of the relationship between God and man. For Rome desires only the slavery and the blindness of the people, in order that it may grow stronger on their ignorance and submission, and Protestantism desires only to keep the people in hating ferment, in order to blackmail the Church for political advantage!

  “Against these infamous two we must rise with sternness and passion. Otherwise the cause of man against his oppressor is lost forever. That is why I have come tonight, to ask for your help, your hearts, and your hands. You must forget your political expediencies, your love for your own privilege. You must revive in yourself the old holy Protestantism, for the sake of all mankind. You must dedicate yourselves to the liberation of the world, to freedom and justice and mercy!”

  He fell abruptly into silence, but his face, his eyes, his shaking lips and outstretched hands were more eloquent than words. De Tremblant came to him, and put his arm about his shoulders, and faced the others.

  “Unless we do this, with dedication and courage,” he said, “France is lost.”

  “But not only France,” pleaded Paul. “The cause of Protestantism is lost to the world if we are remiss, if we succumb to the treachery in our own hearts. Protestantism had pursued a winding course in England, but because of the labors of a few of her noblest men, it is beginning to blossom in some of its potential fruits. A conscience has awakened in England.”

  De Bouillon stirred at this, and gazed at Paul with his hooded and receding eyes. There was speculation in them, a curious reflectiveness.

  “You believe, Monsieur, that England is generously concerned with the safety of Protestantism in France?”

  “Yes, I believe this,” replied Paul. “I believe that de Buckingham will aid us, if we are attacked by the Cardinal or the Habsburgs.”

  “Nevertheless,” said de Bouillon, thoughtfully, “I have heard that a certain lady has prevailed on de Buckingham not to send succor to the Rochellais in the event of a rebellion.” He leaned forward a little towards Paul as he said this.

  Paul lost much of his color. His eyes became brilliant with alarm.

  “You are certain of this, Monsieur le Duc?”

  De Bouillon shrugged. “I am not accustomed to repeat mere rumors.”

  Paul was silent. He looked desperately from one face to the other.

  Then de Rohan spoke hoarsely and slowly: “But there is a way, Messieurs. For instance, if it should appear that that—certain lady—is in reality false to her new admirer, de Buckingham might not survive long enough to keep his infamous promise.”

  There was a profound silence in the great room. De Rohan looked at them all blandly, his reddish eyes baleful yet smiling.

  Paul was still pale. “I do not advocate murder, even of a traitor,” he murmured.

  De Rohan exchanged an amused look with de Bouillon. “Ah, what a saint this is, and so young a man! Monsieur, have you not learned that violent men must be dealt with violently?”

  “It is a visionary,” said de Bouillon, favoring Paul with a cynical smile. “Monsieur, is it true that you have liberated your peasants, set them as free men on your estates, sharers in your property and your incomes, accountable to you only for a small portion?”

  “It is true,” said Paul.

  “And you advocate this extraordinary procedure for all of us?”

  “Most assuredly,” said Paul, with a steadfast look at them all. “I have more than enough for one man. My people labor on my estates, and the greater portion of the fruits are rightfully theirs, before God. I need no more than I have. No man should have more than he needs.”

  “Most revolutionary,” muttered de Bouillon, and he laughed a little, with amazed derision. “But I assure you, Monsieur, that your astounding generosity will not be repeated universally.”

  “Yet, this has been advocated by the noblest Protestant leaders,” said Paul.

  De Bouillon shrugged. He still smiled, but he gazed at Paul with that sinister reflectiveness which his enemies knew only too well. “I have never heard such madness!” he exclaimed. “What will proceed from this? Does Monsieur believe he can teach cattle to walk like men, and converse in human language?”

  De Tremblant interrupted, with a sad smile: “Monsieur de Vitry believes that men can be educated above their instincts. I do not believe this, entirely. How can one impose reason upon natural emotion, or the prejudice that springs from emotion? In a final crisis, instinct and emotion will destroy education and reason.

  “Nevertheless, I believe something of Monsieur’s conviction. I do not believe that freedom and enlightenment will raise all men above their inherent stature. But I do believe that the air of freedom and enlightenment will cause to flower and flourish a rare and occasional soul, of value to the world, and which in these days is inevitably lost. That rare soul must be saved, sought out, nurtured, for the sake of all of us, for the sake of France. The price we must pay is small contrasted with the great end.”

  “I do not understand all this subtlety,” said de Rohan, with impatience. “I know only that Protestantism must not be lost in France, that I shall protect my people to the death. That is all I can promise. I am
a direct man. I am no Jesuit, with fine phrases and obscurantism.”

  “It is enough,” Paul assured him, with his gentle smile.

  “But surely Monsieur le Comte is not truly serious?” exclaimed de Bouillon. “Let us be realistic. Though I am a Huguenot, I am not blind to the results in England. The Reformation has, in England, resulted in the rise of a coarse and rascal species, who are creating a despicable intermediary class of shopkeepers, tradesmen and petty artisans. In the noxious atmosphere they exude, the aristocratic tradition must die, the tradition of nobility which maintains an unassailable bastion between the benighted and inferior multitudes and majesty.”

  He included the others in a humorous look. “Let us reflect. We are of the aristocratic tradition. We cannot allow the transports of visionaries to jeopardize our ancient privilege, the ancient right of our blood and birth. It is unfortunate that Protestantism seems to give rise to a degraded middle class wherever it flourishes. We must not allow this, however fervent are our Huguenot convictions.”

  De Tremblant gazed at him steadily, his long kind ugly face convulsed with anger and contempt.

  “Monsieur le Duc,” he said, coldly and deliberately, “appears to care less for Protestantism than he does for his own ambition. If this be offense to the Duc, he is aware of the proper redress, and is privileged to demand it.” He touched the hilt of his sword. “But I warn Monsieur now that I care nothing for the privileges conferred by the accident of birth, nor those who boast them. All that I have, in my person, in my estates, in my power, is at the demand of Monsieur le Comte de Vitry. And I say also, that I am no mean adversary, and am never turned from the course I wish to pursue.”

  He added, laying his hand on Paul’s arm, but looking at de Bouillon:

  “There are extremes in this young gentleman’s idealism. But battles are not fought and won temperately. If everything of what we consider our rights and our noble privilege must be destroyed to save Protestantism in France, in the world, then we must abandon them.”