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 IN EX ITU ISRAEL.
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL 
 
 AN HISTORICAL NOVEL 
 
 BY 
 
 S. BARING-GOULD, M. A. 
 
 Author of ' Curious Myths of the Middle Ages,' 
 ' Origi7i and Development of Religious Belief ' The Silver Store,' &c., &C. 
 
 VOL. I 
 
 MACMILLAN AND CO. 
 
 1870
 
 OXFORD: 
 
 BY T. COMBE, M.A., E. R GARDNER, E. P. HALL. AND H. LATHAM, M.A., 
 PRINTERS TO THE UNIVERSITY.
 
 •r? 
 
 DEDICATED 
 
 THE MEMORY OF THE LATE 
 
 COUNT CHARLES DE MONTALEMBERT 
 
 BY 
 
 -*- 
 _*> 
 
 'ONE WHO, FROM A DISTANCE, HAS LOVED AND ADMIRED HIS LIFE, 
 ^ HIS PRINCIPLES, AND HIS WRITINGS. 
 
 6
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 There Is a side to the History of the French 
 Revolution which Is too generally overlooked — Its 
 ecclesiastical side. 
 
 Under the ancien regime, the disadvantages 
 of an Establishment produced a strong party of 
 liberal Catholics prepared for a radical change 
 In the relations between Church and State. 
 
 It was this party which organised that remark- 
 able Constitutional Church, at once Republican 
 and Catholic, which sustained Religion through 
 the Reign of Terror, and which Pope Pius VII 
 and Napoleon I combined to overthrow. 
 
 My object in writing this story is to Illustrate 
 the currents of feeling In the State and Church 
 of France in 1 789, currents not altogether unlike 
 those now circulating in our own. It was my 
 good fortune, during a recent visit to Normandy,
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 to collect materials for a history of a repre- 
 sentative character of that eventful period, — one 
 Thomas Lindet, parish priest of Bernay. In 
 writing his story, I do not present him to the 
 reader as a model. He had great faults ; but 
 one can forgive much on account of his enthu- 
 siastic love of justice, and faith in his cause. 
 
 That my story may be taken to convey a 
 moral, is possible. But let me disclaim any in- 
 tention of preaching a lesson to the aristocracy ; 
 I believe that they do not need it. In France, 
 the crown supported the nobility ; in England, 
 the nobility support the crown. The French 
 aristocracy was a privileged class, exempt from 
 the burden of taxation. In England, the hea- 
 viest burden falls on the holders of landed 
 property. With us, the privileged class is that 
 of the manufacturer and trader. The French 
 nobility never made common cause with the 
 people against the encroachments of the royal 
 prerogative. The English barons wrung Magna 
 Charta from reluctant John. Henry VIII would 
 never have been able to consolidate the power in 
 his despotic hands, had not the civil wars of the 
 Roses broken the strength of the aristocracy.
 
 PREFACE. IX 
 
 Since then the nobiHty have made the cause 
 of right and Hberty their own, and a Hmited 
 monarchy is the result. 
 
 The moral, if moral there must be, is this : 
 In times when the relations between Church 
 and State are precarious, coercive measures are 
 certain to force on a rupture. 
 
 Of late, repression has been employed freely 
 on a portion of the community, and this has 
 suddenly created a liberation party which three 
 years ago scarcely existed within the Church 
 and the ranks of the clergy. 
 
 The English curate is as much at the mercy 
 of the bishop as was, and is still, the French 
 cure ; and this he has been made painfully 
 aware of 
 
 In the Wesleyan revival, a body of earnest 
 men who moved for a relaxation of the icy 
 bonds of Establishmentarianism were thrust forth 
 into schism. The first Tractarians were driven 
 to Rome by the hardness of their spiritual rulers. 
 At present, a party, peculiarly narrow, and 
 rapidly dying, by means of a packed Privy 
 Council, are engaged in hunting out and re- 
 pressing the most active section of the Church.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 Worship Is the language of conviction. To a 
 large and rapidly increasing body of Anglicans, 
 Christ is not, as He is to Protestants, a mere 
 historical personage, the founder of Christianity, 
 but is the centre of a religious system, the ever- 
 present object of adoration for His people. A 
 passionate love of Christ has floreated into 
 splendour of worship. To curtail liberty of 
 worship is to touch the rights of conscience ; 
 and to interfere with them has ever led to 
 disastrous consequences — such is the verdict of 
 History. 
 
 A feverish eagerness to dissever Church and 
 State has broken out among clergy and laity, 
 and a schism would be the result, were the chain 
 uniting Church and State indissoluble ; but, as 
 events of late years have made it clear, that with 
 a little concerted energy the old rust-eaten links 
 can be snapped, there will be no schism, but an 
 united effort will be made by a body of resolute 
 spirits within the Church to tear asunder crown 
 and mitre. The disestablishment of the English 
 Church will present a feature absent from that of 
 the Irish Church. In the latter case, there was 
 an unanimous opposition to the measure by all
 
 PREFACE. xi 
 
 within it ; but, in the event of the severance of 
 the union in England, it will take place amid 
 the joyous acclamations of no inconsiderable 
 section of its best and truest sons. 
 
 If, from the following pages, it appears that 
 my sympathies are with the National Assembly, 
 and those who upset the aricien regi77te, it does 
 not follow that they are with the Revolution in 
 its excesses. The true principles of the Revo- 
 lution are embodied in the famous Declaration 
 of the Rights of Man. ' Write at the head of 
 that Declaration the name of God,' said Gregoire ; 
 ' or you establish rights without duties, which is 
 but another thing for proclaiming Force to be 
 supreme.' The Assembly refused. Gregoire 
 was right. 
 
 Robespierre, Danton, and his clique made force 
 supreme — as supreme as in the days of the 
 Monarchy, and trampled on the rights, to protect 
 which they had been raised into power. 
 
 A Republic is one thing : the despotism of 
 an Autocracy or of a Democracy is another 
 thing. 
 
 I propose following up this historical romance 
 by a life of the Abbe Gregoire, which will illus-
 
 xii PREFACE, 
 
 trate the position of the Constitutional Church, 
 of which he was the soul. 
 
 I have chosen the form of fiction for this 
 sketch, as it best enables me to exhibit the state 
 of feeling in France in 1788, 1789. That is no 
 fiction ; the incidents related and the characters 
 introduced are, for the most part, true to History. 
 
 S. B-G. 
 
 Dalton, Thirsk, 
 March 25M, 1870.
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The forests that at the present day cover such a considerable 
 portion of the department of Eure, and which supply the great 
 manufacturing cities on the Seine with fuel, were of much 
 greater extent in the eighteenth century. The fragments of 
 forest which now extend from jMontfort to Breteuil were then 
 united, and stretched in one almost unbroken green zone from 
 the Seine to the Arve, following the course of the little river 
 Rille. A spur struck off at Serquigny, and traced the confluent 
 Charentonne upwards as far as Broglie. 
 
 The little town of Bernay is no longer hemmed in by woods. 
 The heights and the valley of the Charentonne are still well 
 timbered, and green with copse and grove; the landscape is 
 park-like ; here and there a fine old oak with rugged bark and 
 expanded arms proclaims itself a relic of the ancien regime ; 
 but the upstart poplars whitening in the wind along the river 
 course spire above these venerable trees. The roads lie be- 
 tween wheat and potato fields, and the names of hamlets, such 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 as Bosc, Le Taillis, Le Buisson, Bocage, La Couture, &c., alone 
 proclaim that once they lay embedded in forest foliage. 
 
 On the eve of the Great French Revolution, Bernay was a 
 manufacturing town, that had gradually sprung up during the 
 middle ages, around the walls of the great Benedictine Abbey 
 which the Duchess Judith of Brittany had founded in 1013, 
 and endowed with nearly all the surrounding forest. The town 
 was unhealthy. It lay in a hollow, and the monks had 
 dammed up the little stream Cogney, which there met the 
 Charentonne, to turn their mill-wheel, and had converted a 
 portion of the valley into a marsh, in which the frogs croaked 
 loudly and incessantly. 
 
 When the abbot was resident, the townsfolk were required to 
 beat the rushes and silence the noisy reptiles every summer 
 night ; but now that the Superior resided at Dax, this require- 
 ment was not pressed. 
 
 After a heavy downfall of rain, the rivulet was wont to swell 
 into a torrent, overflow the dam, and flood the streets of 
 Bernay, carrying with it such an amount of peat that every 
 house into which the water penetrated was left, after its retreat, 
 plastered with black soil, and, in spring, smeared with frog- 
 spawn. 
 
 The mill was privileged. No other was permitted in the 
 neighbourhood. When M. Chauvin erected a windmill on the 
 hill of Bouff"ey, the monks brought an action against him, and
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 made him dismantle it. All the corn that grew within five 
 miles was ground at the Abbey mill, and every tenth bag was 
 taken by the Fathers in payment for grinding the corn indiffer- 
 ently and at their leisure. At certain seasons, more wheat was 
 brought to the mill than the mill could grind, because the water 
 had run short, or the stones were out of repair, consequently 
 many thousands of hungry people had to wait in patience till 
 the Cogney filled, or till the mill-stones had been re-picked, 
 whilst the gutted windmill of ]M. Chauvin stood in compulsory 
 inaction. 
 
 The great and little tithes of Bernay went to the Abbey ; and 
 out of them the monks defrayed the expense of a curate for 
 the parish church of S. Cross. This church had been built by 
 the town in 1372, by permission of the Abbey, on condition 
 that the parish should bear the charge of its erection, and the 
 abbot should appoint the curate ; that the parish should be 
 responsible for the repair of the fabric and the conduct of 
 divine service, and that the Abbey should pay to the incumbent 
 the portion congriie of the tithes. The incumbent of Bernay 
 was, throughout the middle ages and down to the suppression 
 of the monastery, a salaried curate only, without independent 
 position, and receiving from the Abbey a sum which amounts 
 in modern English money to about fifty pounds, and out of 
 this he was required to pay at least two curates or vicaires. 
 This sorry pittance would have been miserable enough, had 
 
 B 2
 
 I.V EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 the cure been provided with a parsonage-house rent free ; but 
 with this the Abbey did not furnish him, and he was obliged 
 to lodge where he could, and live as best he could on the 
 crumbs that fell from the abbot's table. 
 
 The parishioners of Bernay had made several attempts to 
 free their church from its dependence, but in vain. The monks 
 refused to cede their rights, and every lawsuit in ^yhich the 
 town engaged with them terminated disastrously for the 
 citizens. The people of Bernay were severely taxed. Beside 
 the intolerable burdens imposed on them by the State, they 
 paid tithes on all they possessed to the monks, who assessed 
 them as they thought proper, and against whose assessment 
 there was no appeal, as the abbot of Bernay exercised legal 
 jurisdiction in the place, and every question affecting eccle- 
 siastical dues was heard in his own court. The corn was 
 tithed in the field, and tithed again at the mill. The Abbey 
 had rights of corve\\ that is, of claiming so many days' 
 work from every man in the place, and on its farms, free of 
 expense. The townsfolk, who were above the rank of day 
 labourers, escaped the humiliation only by paying men out 
 of their own pockets, to take their places and work for the 
 Fathers. 
 
 It was hard for the citizens, after having been thus taxed by 
 the Church, to have to expend additional money to provide 
 themselves with religious privileges. Bernay might have been
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 a far more prosperous town but for the Abbey., which, like 
 a huge tumour, ate up the strength and resources of the place, 
 and gave nothing in return. 
 
 The Abbey was also en commende; in other words, it was a 
 donative of the Crown. Whom he would, the king made 
 superior of the monks of S. Benedict at Bernay, — superior 
 only in name, and for the purpose of drawing its revenues, 
 for he was not a monk, nor indeed was he in other than minor 
 orders. Louis XV, whose eye for beauty was satisfied with 
 a Du Barry, having been fascinated by the plump charms of 
 Madame Poudens, wife of a rich jeweller at Versailles, at- 
 tefcipted to seduce her. The lady estimated her virtue at a 
 rich abbey, and finally parted with it for that of Bernay, which 
 was made over iri commendam to a son, whether by Poudens 
 or Louis was not clearly known, but who, at the age of seven, 
 in defiance of the concordat of Francis I with the Pope, was 
 made, abbe of Bernay, father superior of Benedictine monks, 
 and entitled to draw an income of fifty-seven thousand livres 
 per annum, left by Duchess Judith to God and the poor. The 
 case was by no means uncommon, Charles of Valois, bastard 
 of Charles IX and Marie Fouchet, at the age of thirteen was 
 invested with the revenues of Chaise-Dieu, and Henry IV 
 bartered an abbey for a mistress. 
 
 Thomas Lindet was cure of S. Cross. 
 
 The introduction of the power-loom from England had
 
 IN .EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 produced much want and discontent in Normandy, and in 
 Bernay many hands were thrown out of work. The sickness 
 and famine which had periodically afflicted that town of late 
 years became permanent, and the poor priest was condemned 
 to minister in the presence of want and disease, without the 
 power of alleviating either, whilst the revenues of the Church 
 were drained to fill the purse of the non-resident abbe, and 
 by him to be squandered on luxuries and vanities. 
 
 Lindet had more than once expressed his opinion upon the 
 abuses regnant in the Church. In 1781, in a discourse ad- 
 dressed by him to the general assembly of his parish, he had 
 said : — ' We desire that justice should be brought to bear upon 
 these abuses, which outrage common sense and common right, 
 at once. But is there any hope in the future of an accom- 
 pHshment of our desires ? At present, all is dark ; but never 
 let us despair. We groan under oppression. But be sure 
 of this, — wrong-doing revenges itself in the long run. We 
 wish to abolish the intolerable privileges which burden some, 
 that others may trip lightly through life. Alas ! the privileged 
 classes are jealous of our jealousy of them. They scarce 
 permit us to pray the advent of a rectification of abuses, which 
 will prove as glorious to religion as it will prove beneficial 
 to society. Who will put salt upon the leeches, and make 
 them disgorge the blood of the poor 1 ' 
 
 For having used this language the cure had been severely
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 reprimanded by his bishop ; for bishops were then, as they 
 are frequently now, the champions of abuses. 
 
 At the present date, Lindet was again in trouble with his 
 diocesan. For three days in succession the sanctuary lamp 
 in his church had remained unlighted. The reason was, that 
 the cure's cruse of oil was empty; and not the cruse only, 
 but his purse as well. He had neither oil by him, nor money 
 wherewith to buy any; the lamp therefore remained dark. 
 Lindet hoped that some of his parishioners would come for- 
 ward, and furnish the sacramental light with a supply of oil, 
 and this eventually took place ; but, in the meantime, three 
 days and nights of violation of the rubric had elapsed. The 
 officiel or inquisitor of the bishop heard of this, and called on 
 Thomas Lindet, the day before the opening of this tale, to 
 inform him that it was at his option to pay down twenty-five 
 livres for the misdemeanour, or to be thrown into the eccle- 
 siastical court. 
 
 Under the ancien regime, a large portion of a bishop's 
 revenues was derived from ecclesiastical fines imposed by his 
 court, and into this court cases of immorality, heresy and 
 sacrilege among the laity, and of infringement of rubrical 
 exactness, and breach of discipline among the clergy, were 
 brought. As the prosecutor was also virtually the judge, it 
 may be supposed that judgment was usually given against 
 the defendant, who might appeal to the archbishop, or from
 
 I.V EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 him to the pope, — all interested judges, but \Yho \vas debarred 
 from carrying his wrong before a secular tribunal. 
 
 The sun was declining behind the pines, and was painting 
 with saffron the boles of the trees, and striping with orange 
 and purple the forest paths, as Thomas Lindet prepared to 
 part from his friend Jean Lebertre, cure of the pilgrimage 
 shrine of Notre Dame de la Couture, at the brow of the hill 
 where the path to the Couture forked off from the main road 
 to Bernay. At this point the trees fell away towards the valley, 
 and the shrine was visible, lit in the last lights of evening which 
 turned the grey stone walls into walls of gold. 
 
 La Couture is a singularly picturesque church, with lofty 
 choir rising high above the nave roof, and with numerous 
 chapels clustered about the chancel apse. The spire of lead 
 with pinnacled turrets, in that setting glare, seemed a pyramid 
 of flames. 
 
 The priest of Bernay was a tall thin man of forty-five, with 
 colourless face, sunken cheeks, and restless, very brilliant eyes. 
 His face, though far from handsome, was interesting and 
 attractive. It beamed with intelligence and earnestness. His 
 long hair, flowing to his shoulders, was grizzled with care 
 rather than with age, — the care inseparable from poverty, 
 and that arising from the responsibilities attending on the 
 charge of a number of souls. His brow w^as slightly retreating 
 and wanted breadth, his cheek-bones were high. The nose
 
 I.V EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 and mouth were well moulded, the latter was peculiarly delicate 
 and flexible. The thin lips WTre full of expression, and 
 trembled with every emotion of the heart. 
 
 Lindet's hands were also singularly beautiful — they were 
 narrow and small ; a lady would have envied the taper fingers 
 and well-shaped nails. INIalicious people declared that the 
 priest was conscious of the perfection of his hands, and that 
 he took pains to exhibit it; but this was most untrue. No 
 man was more free from vanity, and had a greater contempt 
 for it, than Thomas Lindet. He had contracted 2^ habit of 
 using his right hand whilst speaking, in giving force to his 
 words by gesture, and whilst thinking, in plucking at the 
 cassock-buttons on his breast, but this trick was symptomatic 
 of a highly-strung nervous temperament, and was in no 
 degree attributable to personal vanity. 
 
 Lebertre was somewhat of a contrast to Lindet. lie was 
 a middle-sized, well-built man, with a face of an olive hue, hazel 
 eyes, large, as earnest as those of his friend, but not like them 
 in their restlessness ; they were deep, calm wells, which seemed 
 incapable of being ruffled by anger, or clouded with envy. 
 His black hair was flowing and glossy, without a speck in 
 it of grey. ' I would not do so,' said he, holding Lindet's 
 arm ; ' you should bear meekly, and suffer patiently.' 
 
 ' Bear and suffer ! ' repeated the cure of S. Cross, his eyes 
 hghtening and his lips quivering; 'True. "Suffering is the
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 badge of all our tribe." What the English poet puts into the 
 mouth of a Jew is a motto meet for a French cure. But, my 
 brother, tell me — are not wrongs and sufferings crushing us, 
 destroying our self-reliance, ruining our independence, and 
 obliterating our self-respect? How can a priest be respected 
 by his flock when he does not respect himself; and how can 
 he respect himself when he is trodden like dirt under the feet 
 of his spiritual superiors?' 
 
 'Bearing wrongs and suffering injustice without a murmur 
 is the badge of a Christian ; above all, of a priest. He who 
 suffers and endures uncomplainingly is certain to obtain respect 
 and reverence/ 
 
 'A pretty world this has become,' exclaimed Lindet; 'the 
 poor are ground to powder, and at each turn of the wheel 
 we are bidden preach them Christian submission. They look 
 around, and see everywhere labour taxed, and idleness go 
 free. Toil then like a Christian, and pay, pay, pay, that the 
 king may make fountains for his garden, the nobles may 
 stake high at cards, and the bishops and canons may salary 
 expensive cooks. Say the little farmer has a hundred francs. 
 Out of this he is obliged to pay twenty-five for the taille, 
 sixteen for the accessories, fifteen for his capitation, eleven for 
 tithe. What remains to him for the support of his family, 
 after he has paid his rent ? Truly of this world may be said 
 what is said of hell: " Nullus or do, sempiternus horror inhabitat!''
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL, II 
 
 Lebertre did not answer. With the steadfastness of purpose 
 that was his characteristic, he returned to his point, and 
 refused to be led into digression by his vehement and volatile 
 companion. 'You must not go to Evreux, as you propose/ 
 he said. 
 
 ' r shall go to the bishop,' returned Lindet ; ' and I shall 
 give him the money into his hand. I shall have the joy, the 
 satisfaction, may be, of seeing, for once in my life, a bishop's 
 cheek burn with shame.' 
 
 '■ Is this a Christian temper ? ' 
 
 ' Is it the part of a Christian bishop to consume his clergy 
 with exactions and with persecutions, and to torture them 
 with insults ? Our bishop neglects his diocese. He receives 
 some four hundred and fifty thousand livres per annum, and 
 can only visit Bernay, with five thousand souls in it, once 
 in three years, to confirm the young and to meet the clergy. 
 When he comes amongst us on these rare occasions he takes 
 up his abode at the Abbey, and receives us, the priests who 
 seek advice and assistance, at a formal interview of ten 
 minutes, into which we must condense our complaints ; and 
 then we are dismissed without sympathy and without redress.' 
 
 Lindet took a few steps along the path to La Couture. ' I 
 will accompany you, Jean,' he said ; ' and I will tell you how 
 I was treated when last I had access to Monseigneur. He 
 sat at a little table; on it was a newspaper and a hand-bell,
 
 12 I.V EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 and his large gold watch. He signed to me to stand before 
 him ; I did so, holding my hands behind my back like a boy 
 who is about to be scolded. He asked me some trifling 
 question about my health, which I did not answer. I could 
 not afford to waste one out of my ten minutes thus; so I 
 broke out into an account pf our troubles here. I told him 
 there was no school for the children ; that I had no parsonage 
 house. God knows! I vrould teach the poor . children myself 
 if they could be crowded into my garret, but the good woman 
 with whom I lodge will not permit it. I told him of the 
 want and misery here, of the exactions under which the poor 
 are bowed. I spoke to him of the hollow-eyed hungry work- 
 men, and of the women hugging their starving babes to their 
 empty breasts.' The priest stopped, gasping for an instant, 
 his trembling white hand working in the air, and expressing 
 his agitation with mute eloquence. 'All the while I talked, 
 his eye was on the newspaper; I saw that he was reading, 
 and^ was not attending to me. What he read was an account 
 of a fete at Versailles, from which, alas ! he was absent. 
 Then he touched his bell, " Your time is up,'' he said ; and I 
 was bowed out.' 
 
 * You forget that the time of a prelate is precious.' 
 'I grant you that,' ans\yered Lindet, with quivering voice; 
 ' too precious lo be spent amidst a crowd of lackeys in 
 dancing attendance on royalty ; too precious to be wasted on
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. ■ 13 
 
 fetes and dinners to all the lordlings that Monseigneur can 
 gather about his table in the hopes that they may shed some 
 lustre on his own new-fledged nobility.' 
 
 ' I will not hear you, my friend/ said Lebertre, turning from 
 him ; ' you are too bitter, too vindictive. You would tear our 
 bishops from their seats, and strip them of their purple.' 
 
 * Of their purple and fine linen and sumptuous faring every 
 day, that Lazarus may be clothed and fed ! ' interrupted Lindet, 
 passionately. 
 
 ' You would abolish the episcopacy and convert the Church 
 to presbyterianism,' said the cure of La Couture with a slight 
 tone of sarcasm. 
 
 * Never,' answered the priest of S. Cross ; his voice instantly 
 becoming calm, and acquiring a depth and musical tone like 
 that in which he was wont to chant. ' No, Lebertre, never. 
 I would preserve the ancient constitution of the Church, but 
 I would divest it of all its State-given position and pomp. I 
 would have our bishops to be our pastors and overseers, and 
 not our lords and tyrants. I reverence authority, but I abhor 
 autocracy. David went forth in the might of God to fight 
 the Philistine ; Saul lent him his gilded armour, but the 
 shepherd put it off him — he could not go in that cumbrous 
 painted harness. With his shepherd's staff and sling he slew 
 the giant. Woe be it! the Church has donned the golden 
 armour wherewith royalty has invested -her, and crushed
 
 14 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 beneath the weight, it Hes prostrate at the feet of the 
 enemy/ 
 
 Lindet walked on fast, weaving his fingers together and 
 then shaking them apart. 
 
 ' But let me continue what I had to tell you of the bishop's 
 visit here,' he said. ' I was walking down the Rue des Jardins 
 an hour after my reception, with my head sunk on my bosom, 
 and — I am not ashamed to add — with my tears flowing. I 
 wept, for I was humbled myself, and ashamed for the Church. 
 Then suddenly I felt a sting across my shoulders, as I heard 
 a shout. I started from my reverie to find myself almost 
 under the feet of the horses of a magnificent carriage with 
 postilions and outriders in livery, that dashed past in a cloud 
 of dust. I stood aside and saw my bishop roll by in con- 
 versation with M. Berthier, laughing like a fool. ]\Iy shoulders 
 tingled for an hour with the lash of the post-boy's whip, but 
 the wound cut that day into my heart is quivering and bleeding 
 still.' As he spoke, he and his friend came suddenly upon a 
 wayside crucifix which had been erected at the confines of 
 the parish as a station for pilgrims, in a patch of clearing. 
 The pines rose as a purple wall behind it, but the setting 
 sun bathed the figure of the Saviour in light, and turned 
 to scarlet the mat of crimson pinks which had rooted them- 
 selves in the pedestal. 
 
 Lebertre pressed the hand of his agitated companion, and
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 1 5 
 
 pointed up at the Christ, whilst an expression of faith and 
 devotion brightened his own countenance. He designed to 
 lead the thoughts of Lindet to the great Exemplar of patient 
 suffering, but the cure of S. Cross mistook his meaning. He 
 stood as one transfixed, before the tall gaunt crucifix, looking 
 up at the illumined figure. Then, extending his arms, he cried, 
 ' Oh Jesus Christ ! truly Thou wast martyred by the bishops 
 and aristocrats of Thy day; smitten, insulted, condemned to 
 death by Annas and Caiaphas, the high priests, and by Pilate, 
 the imperial governor. Verily, Thy body the Church bleeds 
 at the present day, sentenced and tortured by their successors 
 in Church and State.' 
 
 Before the words had escaped his lips, a cry, piercing and 
 full of agony, thrilled through the forest. 
 
 Lindet and Lebertre held their breath. In another instant, 
 from a footpath over which the bushes closed, burst a peasant 
 girl, parting the branches, and darting to the crucifix, she 
 flung herself before it, clasping her arms around the trunk, 
 and in so doing overturning a flower-basket on her arm, and 
 strewing the pedestal and kneeling-bench with bunches of 
 roses. 
 
 She was followed closely by a large man, richly dressed, 
 who sprang towards her, cast his arms round her waist, and 
 attempted to drag her from her hold. 'Sacr^! you sweet 
 little wench. If persuasion and flattery fail, why, force must
 
 1 6 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 succeed.' And he wrenched one of her bare brown arms 
 from the cross. She cast a despairing look upward at the 
 thorn-crowned head which bowed over her and the seducer, 
 and uttered another piteous wail for help. 
 
 At the same moment, the sun passed behind some bars of 
 fog on the horizon, and the light it flung changed instantly 
 from yellow to blood-red. The figure of the Christ was a 
 miserable work of art, of the offensive style prevalent at the 
 period, contorted with pain, the face drawn, and studded with 
 huge clots of blood. In the scarlet Hght it shone down on 
 those below as though it were carved out of flame, and 
 menaced wrathfully. 
 
 The girl still clung to the cross with one arm. She was 
 dressed in a short blue woollen skirt that left unimpeded her 
 ankles and feet, a black bodice laced in front, exposing the 
 coarse linen sleeves and shift gathered over the bosom about 
 the throat. Her white frifled Normandy cap, with its broad 
 flaps, was disturbed, and some locks of raven hair fell 
 from beneath it over her slender polished neck. The 
 oval sun -browned face was exquisitely beautiful. The 
 large dark eyes were distended with terror, and the lips were 
 parted. 
 
 'Mon Dieu! do you think that those frail arms can battle 
 with mine.?' asked the pursuer with mocking composure, as 
 he drew the other arm from the stem of the cross, and holding
 
 /.V EXITU ISRAEL. 1 7 
 
 both at the wrists, pressed them back at the girl's side so 
 as to force her to face him. 
 
 'Look at me,' he said, in the same bantering tone; 'can 
 your pestilent litde village produce so wealthy and promising 
 a lover as me? Your Jacques and Jeans have but a few 
 liards in their purses, and can only offer you a pinchbeck ring ; 
 but I ■' — he disengaged one hand, whilst he felt in his pocket 
 and produced a purse; 'whilst I — Ha! listen to the chink, 
 chink, chink ! You do not know the language of money, do 
 you? Well, I will interpret; chink, chink — that means silk 
 dresses, satin shoes, dainty meats, and sweet bonbons. Now 
 then ! ' he exclaimed, as she made a struggle to escape. 
 
 'Now then,' repeated Thomas Lindet, who, quick as thought, 
 strode between the man and his prey. He released the child ; 
 and placing her beside him, with a lip that curled with scorn, 
 he removed his huge shovel hat, and bowing almost double, 
 with a sweep of the hat, said, 'M. Berthier! the little one 
 and I bid you good evening ! ' 
 
 Then he drew back, extending his arm and hat as an aegis 
 over the girl. 
 
 The gentleman stood as if petrified, and looked at them. 
 He was a tall man, largely made, very big-boned, with his 
 hair powdered and fastened behind by a black silk bow. His 
 face was closely shaven, the nose short, the upper lip very 
 long and arched. But the most conspicuous feature of his 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 face were his eyes, set in red and raw sockets. As he stood 
 and looked at the priest, he mechanically drew a handkerchief 
 from his pocket, and proceeded with a corner of it to wipe 
 the tender lids. 
 
 His coat was of maroon velvet edged and frogged with 
 gold braid, his waistcoat was of white satin, and his hat was 
 three-cornered and covered with lace. He wore a rapier at 
 his side ; and he was evidently a man of distinction. 
 
 ' Come, Lebertre, my friend,' said Lindet, cheerfully, without 
 taking any more notice of the gentleman ; * I will accompany 
 you and help to protect this damsel' The girl had lost 
 one of her sabots, but in the excess of her fear she walked 
 along unconscious of her loss. The cure of La Couture 
 strode on one side of her, and the priest of Bernay paced on 
 the other, supporting her with their hands, for her limbs shook 
 with agitation, and, if unassisted, she would have fallen. 
 
 ' I know her,' said Lebertre to his friend, ' she is little 
 Gabrielle Andr^, and lives down by the river with her father, 
 who is a farmer of the Abbey/ 
 
 Lindet looked across at his companion, with a glad light 
 dancing in his eyes, and raising one hand heavenwards he 
 exclaimed : ' Did I not say that the Church in all her members 
 suffers and bleeds? Would, dear friend, that, as we have 
 rescued this poor child out of the hands of a betrayer, we 
 might also rescue the poor Church from her seducers ! '
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 Lebertre did not answer ; but after a while he said solemnly, 
 and with an air of deep conviction : ' Lindet ! did you mark 
 how, at the cry of the child, the head of the Christ shook 
 and frowned ? ' 
 
 >^H>-«— 
 
 C 2
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The Charentonne in its meanderings forms a number of 
 islets. The stream is in itself inconsiderable, but it spreads 
 itself through its shallow valley like a tangled skein, and 
 cuts up the meadows with threads of water easily crossed on 
 plank-bridges. 
 
 Much of the land in the bottom is marsh, into which a 
 rill dives and disappears, but other portions are firm alluvial 
 soil, producing rich crops of grass, flax, and here and there 
 patches of corn. 
 
 On one of these islands, if islands they may be called, above 
 the hamlet of La Couture, stood a cottage, in style resembling 
 those we meet with in the southern counties of England, 
 constructed of black timber and white plaster, and thatched. 
 To the south, at its back, lay a dense growth of willow and 
 poplar, screening the house from the sun, and giving it in 
 winter a moist and mouldy appearance, but in summer one 
 cool and refreshing. A considerable flower-garden occupied 
 the front of the cottage, filled with superb roses, white, yellow, 
 and red. Tall white and scarlet lilies leaned against the house,
 
 IX EX ITU ISRAEL. 21 
 
 whose thatch was golden with house-leek, so that in the flower 
 season the Isle des Hirondelles attracted the admiration of 
 all who passed along the road to Ferrieres. 
 
 In this cottage lived Matthias Andre, father of Gabrielle, 
 whom the two priests are conducting across the foot-bridge 
 towards him. 
 
 He was cleaning out the cow-house as they approached. 
 littering fresh straw in the stall from which he had forked 
 the manure. He was a middle-sized man, clad in knee- 
 breeches and blue worsted half-stockings that covered the 
 calves, but were cut short at the ankles. His sabots, which 
 shod his otherwise bare feet, were stained and clotted with 
 soil. His coarse linen shirt was open at the throat, exposing 
 his hairy breast, and the sleeves were rolled to the elbows, 
 so as to give free play to his brown muscular arms. A large 
 felt hat, out of which the sun had extracted the colour, lay 
 on the bench before the door, and his head was covered 
 with a blue knitted conical cap, the peak and tassel of which 
 hung over his right ear. 
 
 Labour and exposure had bronzed and corrugated the 
 features of ^Matthias, oppression and want had stamped on 
 them an expression of sullen despair. His brow was in- 
 variably knit, and his eyes were permanently depressed. He 
 muttered to himself as he worked : he never sang, for his 
 heart was never lisrht. How can the heart be light that is
 
 2 2 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 weighed down, and galled with chains ? The life of the 
 peasant before the French Revolution was the hfe of a slave; 
 he could not laugh, he could not even smile, for he had to 
 struggle for bare existence with exactions which strangled 
 him. He and his sons were Hke Laocoon and his children 
 in the coils of the serpent that was laced round their Hmbs, 
 that breathed poison into their lungs, and sucked the life- 
 blood from their hearts; and that serpent was the Ancien 
 Regime. 
 
 Louis VI had enfranchised the serfs on the royal domain, 
 and the nobles, after his example, gradually released theirs, 
 finding that the peasant, with liberty and hope, worked 
 better than the slave, and made the land more valuable. To 
 them they sold or rented some of their acres. In 13 15 
 appeared the order of Louis X, requiring all the nobles to 
 emancipate their serfs, because 'every man should be born 
 free ; therefore let the lords who have rights over the persons 
 of men, take example from us, and bring all to freedom.' 
 
 The nobles, determined by their interest, obeyed ; but 
 down to 1789 serfs remained in France; — it was from the 
 hands of the Church that the Revolution liberated them. To 
 the last, the canons of the Cathedral of S. Claude, in 
 Franche-Comt^, refused to emancipate their slaves from the 
 feudal right of main viorte, which placed human beings, ran- 
 somed by the blood of Christ, on a level with the cattle.
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 23 
 
 In Jura there were as many as ten thousand; but in Nor- 
 mandy serfage had disappeared in the thirteenth century. 
 The serf became a small farmer, and free ; — but at what 
 price ? The land was his on condition of paying a rent. 
 Charges also, real, that is, paid in money or in fruits, and 
 personal, that is, acquitted by service rendered free of ex- 
 pense to the landlord, weighed on the agriculturist. 
 
 The imposts which oppressed him were these : — First, the 
 Taille or tax. Of this there were two kinds, the taux and 
 the taillon. From these taxes the nobles and the churchmen 
 were exempt. Of nobles there were in France some 83,000, 
 and of churchmen some 200,000. The capitation was an 
 impost direct and personal, which touched all. Calculated 
 upon the presumed value of land and property which was 
 taxable, it was arbitrary, and those who had access to, and 
 credit with, the officers of comptrol, were lightly rated, whilst 
 those without interest were obhged to pay according to an 
 exaggerated estimate. By a succession of injustices, also, 
 the capitation of some was fixed, whilst that of others varied. 
 The duty of tenth was levied nominally on all; but nobles 
 and ecclesiastics were privileged, and paid nothing on their 
 woods, meadows, vines, and ponds, nor on arable land 
 belonging to the home farm. 
 
 The Corvee, also, weighed only on the peasant. The 
 name, according to etymologists, indicates the posture of a
 
 ^4 
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 
 
 man bowed at the hardest labour. He who was amenable 
 to the corvee was required to work himself, and make his 
 horses and oxen work, for his landlord and for government. 
 By this means the roads and other public works were kept 
 in repair. 
 
 Two grand sources of public revenue were the Gahelle 
 and the Excise. The gabelle, or monopoly of salt, pressed 
 upon the peasant in two ways. The father of the family, 
 obliged to pay for salt which he needed a price fifty 
 times its value, was also required, under pain of imprison- 
 ment, to purchase a certain amount, determined by the clerks, 
 and fixed according to the presumed consumption of his 
 family. If he failed to purchase the requisite amount, or if 
 he was suspected of being in possession of contraband goods, 
 at any time of the day his house might be invaded by the 
 officers of the Excise, and its contents examined. 
 
 The feudal rights to grinding the corn, and pressing the 
 grapes and apples, were also grievous restrictions on the 
 liberty of the farmer and peasant. His landlord might im- 
 prison him for crushing the wheat he grew in a hand-quern, 
 and for squeezing enough apples to fill a bottle with cider. 
 
 The Champart was another feudal right. The farmer was 
 bound to yield to his lord not only a share of his harvest, 
 but also he was not permitted to reap and garner his own 
 corn till the portion due to the proprietor had been removed
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 25 
 
 from his field. In addition to all these burdens came the 
 Tithe ; \Yheat, barley, rye, and oats were at first alone tith- 
 able. But the conversion of arable land into pasture and 
 into fields of lucerne, sanfoin, and clover, to escape this tax, 
 affected the income of the clergy, and they claimed the right 
 of taking the tenth of cattle and of tithing wool. Nobles 
 and roturiers resisted this claim, and numerous law-suits were 
 the result, — suits rendered so expensive by the corruptions 
 existing in courts of justice, that the vast majority of sufferers 
 paid the tenth of their goods to the clergy rather than risk 
 all to the lawyers. 
 
 IMatthias Andre removed his blue cap to the cures as they 
 approached. He bore them no grudge, — they were fellow- 
 sufferers; but he was wont to grind his teeth as the noble- 
 man or the provost drove by, and he would curse the monk 
 who came to exact the convent dues. 
 
 ' Good evening to you, neighbour Andre,' said Jean Le- 
 bertre ; ' we have brought you your daughter. She is a 
 little upset, frightened by the impertinence of a — well, of a 
 gentleman.' 
 
 ' Of a rascal,' interrupted Lindet. 
 
 ' She shall tell you the story,' said the priest of La Cou- 
 ture, thrusting the girl forward ; ' she can do so better than 
 I; all I know of it is, that my friend here rescued her from 
 a gentleman who was treating her with insolence.'
 
 2 6 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 'How was it, child?' asked Matthias, casting his fork from 
 him with such violence that it stuck into the soil and re- 
 mained upright. 
 
 Gabrielle moved towards the seat. 
 
 'Yes, sit down,' said Lebertre; 'poor child, you are greatly 
 overcome.' 
 
 Gabrielle sank upon the bench. She still trembled in all 
 her limbs. Removing her white cap, which was disarranged, 
 her beautiful .dark hair fell inf waves down her back and 
 touched the seat she occupied. The fear which had dis- 
 tended her eyes had now deserted them, and the irises re- 
 covered their usual soft and dewy light. The peachy colour 
 also returned to cheeks that had been blanched, but the 
 delicate rosy lips still quivered with excitement. Clasping 
 her hands on her lap, and shaking the locks from her 
 temples, she looked up beseechingly at her father, and said, 
 in gentle entreaty, — 
 
 ' ]My father ! Let me not go to the chateau again.' 
 
 ' Tell me what took place.' 
 
 *It was IM. Berthier, my father. You know how I have 
 feared him. Why did you send me to the chateau.'" 
 
 'Goon, child.' 
 
 She suddenly clasped her hands over her brow, threw her 
 head forward, and resting her elbows on her lap, said : — 
 ' Promise me ! I am not to go near that place again.'
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 27 
 
 'Is time so common an article that I can afford to waste 
 it thus?' exclaimed Andre. 'Go on with your story, or I 
 shall return to littering the cow-stall.' 
 
 'My father!' 
 
 ' Well ! ' 
 
 ' I am not to go there again ! ' 
 
 With a curse the peasant flung himself towards his fork, 
 tore it out of the ground, and recommenced his work. He 
 continued carrying into the cow-shed bundles of straw and 
 spreading them, with apparent forgetfulness of his daughter, 
 and indifference to her trouble. She remained with her head 
 in her hands, crying. Lebertre spoke to her, but her grief had 
 now obtained the mastery over her, and she could not answer 
 him. 
 
 ' Let h^er cry herself out,' said Lindet. 
 
 After the first paroxysm was over, she sprang up, ran 
 to her father, cast her arms about him, and placing her 
 chin upon his breast, looked up into his eyes. This was 
 an old trick of hers. Matthias never looked any one in the 
 face, and when his daughter wished to meet his gaze, she 
 acted thus. 
 
 ' I will tell you all now,' she said. ' Come, sit by me on 
 the bench.' 
 
 ' I have no time at present,' he answered, sullenly. ' Besides, 
 I can guess a great deal.'
 
 28 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 ' You shall listen to me/ said the girl ; ' I will not let you 
 go till you have heard everything.' 
 
 She removed the manure-fork from his hand, and led him 
 to the door of the cow-shed. He would not go farther, he 
 would not seat himself beside her, as she had asked. He 
 yielded to her request in one particular, but not in another. 
 It was his way, — his pride, to do w^hatever he was asked with 
 a bad grace. He supported himself against one side-post, with 
 his head down, and the knuckle of his forefinger between his 
 teeth ; she leaned against the other jamb. 
 
 * I went round to the houses, as usual, selling my bunches 
 of roses; I sold one to INIadame Laborde, and two to the 
 Demoiselles Breant ; and M. Fran9ois Corbelin, the musician, 
 bought one, but he did not pay me, — he had no money with 
 him to-day, but he promised for next time. Then I went to 
 the chateau of ]\I. des Pintreaux, but the ladies did not want 
 any of my roses ; and then I walked on with my basket to the 
 Chateau Malouve. The lackeys told me that Monsieur was 
 not in, but that he was a little way along the road, and that 
 I was to take him my roses, as he particularly wished to pur- 
 chase them, he wanted them all; so I walked on, but I was 
 distressed, for I did not like to meet M. Berthier alone. He 
 always addresses me in a way that gives me pain, and he 
 makes his jokes, so that I am ashamed.' 
 
 ' Well; well, go on.'
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. . 29 
 
 * So, my father, after I had shown him my basket- 
 ' Then you found him ? ' 
 
 'Yes; he was at no great distance. He laughed when I 
 came towards him. He did not seem to care much for the 
 roses, but looked at me with his horrible eyes, and he put his 
 hand to my chin, and asked for a kiss, then I was frightened 
 and ran from him ; but he followed me, and I was so frightened 
 that I could not run with my usual speed ; my head was spin- 
 ning, and I scarcely knew whither I was^going; then, just 
 as he caught me up, M. le Cure rescued me from him. God 
 be praised ! ' 
 
 Matthias turned from the door-post to resume his pitchfork, 
 but his daughter intercepted him once more. 
 
 ' My father,' she entreated, ' say that I am never to go again 
 with my roses to M. Berthier ! ' 
 
 ' Did he pay you for the bunches he took ? ' 
 
 * No ; I ran away before he paid for them.' 
 
 'You are a fool; you should have taken the money, and 
 then run away.' 
 
 Lebertre now stepped forward to interfere. 
 
 * It is not right, Matthias, that the poor child should be sent 
 into such peril again.' 
 
 'M. Berthier buys more bunches than any one else,' an- 
 swered Andr^, moodily. 
 . ' Dear father, I have too often to suffer the looks and smiles
 
 30 IN EXirU ISRAEL. 
 
 and jokes of those to whom I offer my bunches of flowers/ 
 said the girl, emboldened by finding that the priest took her 
 part. 'Let me work in the field every day with you. Let 
 us dig up the garden, and turn it into a potato-field.' 
 
 ' Remember the risk to a young and pretty child,' continued 
 the cur^, ' in sending her round the country alone with her 
 basket of flowers. The young gentlemen are gay and reck- 
 less ; shame and sin enough have been wrought in this neigh- 
 bourhood by them, and M. Berthier is notorious for his 
 debaucheries. You are thrusting your child over a precipice.' 
 
 ' We must live,' answered the peasant, fiercely. ' Answer 
 me this. Does not the sailor risk life for a small wage ; does 
 not the soldier jeopardy his for a gay coat and a Hard a day ? 
 Is it not the mission of men— I do not mean of nobles, they 
 are not men, they are gods— to labour and struggle for a sub- 
 sistence in the midst of perils .? Shall not my child, then, run 
 some risks to win enough to satisfy the gnawing hunger in 
 our vitals ? Does not the doctor venture his health for the 
 sake of a fee, and shall not this girl risk her honour to save 
 her life ? ' 
 
 ' You imperil both your soul and hers.' 
 
 IVIatthias shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 Lindet strode up to him, caught his shoulders in his palms, 
 and jerked his head upwards; their eyes met for a second, 
 and in that second Lindet mastered his dogged humour.
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 3 1 
 
 Andre threw it aside, and straightening himself, he beat his 
 hands together, and cried out in an altered tone, full of bitter- 
 ness and pain, — 
 
 ' My God ! what are we poor but the cattle of the rich ? 
 We are theirs; what is the good of our attempting to resist 
 their will? They possess our earnings, our labour, our Hfe, 
 our honour ; ay ! our souls are theirs, to ruin them if they Hke. 
 Can anything I may do protect poor Gabrielle from M. Ber- 
 thier, or any other great man who shall cast his lustful eyes 
 on her? No. Let things take their course. Perhaps God 
 will right our wrongs at the judgment. I wait for that. Thy 
 kingdom come ! ' he exclaimed, throwing up his hands to the 
 sky. * And till then, — if it be God's will that we should be 
 the prey of the powerful, — that they should eat us up, and 
 pollute our honour, — why, His will be done, we must even 
 bear it.' 
 
 ' Do you love your daughter } ' asked Lebertre. 
 
 ' As much as I can afford,' answered Andre, relapsing into 
 his moody humour. 
 
 ' You do love her,' said Lindet; ' but you love yourself better.' 
 
 Matthias looked furtively at him. 
 
 ' I love her, indeed,' he said, sadly ; * but I have no thoughts 
 for anything but how to stave off the great enemy.' 
 
 ' What great enemy .? ' asked Lebertre. 
 
 'Hunger,' answered the peasant, passionately.
 
 32 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 
 
 'The child shall not take her flowers to the Chateau Ma- 
 louve any more/ said Lindet, firmly. ' She shall take them 
 instead to my brother Robert, and he will buy them. Mind, 
 instead, not besides/ 
 
 ' Yes, monsieur ! ' answered Andr^. * Indeed, I do not 
 desire that evil should befall my dear child, but hunger is 
 imperious ; and oh ! last winter was so terrible, that I dare not 
 face another such, so destitute of means as I have been.' 
 
 Dusk had by this time settled in, and the cur^s walked 
 homewards. Their roads lay together as far as La Couture, 
 which is almost a suburb of Bernay, and was, according to 
 antiquaries, the original parish church of that town, before 
 the erection of S. Cross. 
 
 * See,' said Lindet to his friend, as they parted at the door 
 of the presbytery of La Couture ; ' see how want and poverty 
 dry up the natural springs of love and virtue ; and how the 
 nobles, the Church, and the king, by their oppression of the 
 peasant, are demoralising him. Believe me, if ever a day of 
 reckoning should come, those natural feelings^ which oppres- 
 sion has turned into gall, will overwhelm the oppressors. If 
 once the people get the upper hand, mercy must not be ex- 
 pected ; wrong-doing has long ago destroyed all the tenderer 
 feelings of our poor.' 
 
 But he was wrong in thinking that they were destroyed. 
 Frozen over they were, but not dried up.
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 33 
 
 That night, after Andre had gone up his ladder to the bed 
 of straw on which he lay, and after several hours of darkness, 
 Gabrielle woke up at the sound of sobs, and creeping lightly 
 from her attic chamber to her father's door, she saw him by 
 the moonlight that flowed in at the unglazed window, kneehng 
 against his bed, with his head laid upon his arm, and the moon 
 illumining it, weeping convulsedly, and the white light glittered 
 in his tears. 
 
 -«-^i=^-^;4ic-o. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The west front of Evreux Cathedral occupies one side of 
 a small square, of which the south side is formed by a high 
 wall pierced by the arched gate that conducts into the court- 
 yard of the bishop's palace. 
 
 Above this arch was wont to be erected the arms of the 
 prelate occupying the see, impaled with those of the diocese. 
 The Bishop of Evreux in 1788 was IMonseigneur de Narbonne- 
 Lara, and the arms borne by him displayed a ramping and 
 roaring lion. As those of the bishopric were a S. Sebastian 
 bound to a pillar, and transfixed with arrows, the combination 
 was peculiar, and was seized on by the wags to point a moral. 
 They observed that the saint typified Religion, bound hand 
 and foot by establishmentarian thongs, and pierced through 
 with many sorrows, whilst IMonseigneur's lion, which seemed 
 bent on devouring the martyr, symbolized the greed and 
 ambition of the episcopacy. 
 
 IMonseigneur de Narbonne had scrambled from a counter 
 to a throne. He was one of those few prelates of the French 
 Church who were not members of great families. Tell it
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 35 
 
 not in Gath ! his fatlier made and sold goose-liver pasties at 
 Strasbourg : but Strasbourg is a very long way from Evreux. 
 
 The bishop's father called himself Lara, his mother had 
 been a Demoiselle Narbonne; by combining the names, and 
 prefixing to the maternal cognomen a De, the bishop was able 
 to pass himself off as a member of the nobility, and to speak 
 disparagingly of roturiers. Above the parental shop at Stras- 
 bourg hung a wooden and painted figure of a plucked goose, 
 the badge of the family profession, and the only heraldic 
 device of which old Lara boasted. The lion, says JEsop, 
 once assumed an ass's skin; but on the shield of Mon- 
 seigneur de Narbonne-Lara, bishop of Evreux, abbot in com- 
 mendam of three religious houses, the ancestral goose ramped 
 and roared as a lion or out of a field gules. 
 
 The bishop was ambitious of becoming an archbishop and 
 a cardinal; he had therefore to pay his court at once to 
 Versailles and to Rome— a course he was perfectly competent 
 to pursue, for, though filled to the brim with pride, he had 
 not a drop of self-respect. He was a tall, stout and handsome 
 man, but his good looks were marred by the redness and 
 fleshiness of his face, and his proportions were disguised by 
 the pomposity of his carriage. 
 
 Being a man of consummate shrewdness, he had succeeded 
 in making himself a favourite at Court. His knowledge of 
 German had won him first the bishopric of Gap, and after- 
 
 D 2
 
 IN EXirU ISRAEL. 
 
 wards the more important one of Evreux, when, during the 
 late reign, the Dauphiness had set Austrian fashions. For 
 the same reason, he was now private chaplain to the Queen. 
 He gave capital dinners, and hoped by the choiceness of his 
 cookery and wines to buy the favour of those who had the 
 ear of royalty. By fussy officiousness in the diocese, by 
 worrying his clergy, he hoped to ■obtain credit for energetic 
 discharge of his episcopal duties, and by favouring the Jesuits, 
 he made sure that his acts would be favourably reported at 
 Rome. 
 
 IMonseigneur was now about to achieve a triumph. Prince 
 Louis- Stanislas -Xavier, commonly called ' Monsieur,' the 
 brother of the King, Duke of Anjou, Alencon and Vendome, 
 Count of Perche, IMaine, and Senonches, having business to 
 transact in Normandy connected with the bailiwicks of Bernay 
 and Orbec, of which he was lord, had been invited to the 
 palace by the Bishop of Evreux, and the prince had accepted 
 the invitation. 
 
 Monseigneur de Narbonne was in a flutter of excitement 
 at the prospect. The same may be said of Mademoiselle 
 Baptistine, his sister, who lived with him. The grand old 
 palace was turned inside out. Painters, gilders, and uphol- 
 sterers had taken possession of the house, and had banished 
 the bishop into the turret overlooking the garden. 
 
 The prelate sat in his purple cassock and cape, pen in
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 37 
 
 hand, making imaginary calculations of the expenses the 
 visit of the prince would entail upon him. He had ordered 
 the withdrawing room to be furnished with blue silk hangings 
 powdered over with silver lilies, and having ascertained from 
 his sister the price per yard- of silk, and having allowed a 
 margin for the fleurs-de-lis, he measured the room when no 
 one was looking, and had just estimated the cost. He added to 
 this the blue velvet divan, and the chairs gilt and covered with 
 blue velvet, and the painting and gilding of the ceiling, the 
 carpets and the mirrors. He had pretty well satisfied himself 
 that the income of the see would not bear such an expenditure 
 as he contemplated. But it was worth the sacrifice. Three 
 archbishops were then infirm. His own immediate superior 
 at Rouen had been reduced very low by a virulent attack of 
 gastric fever, brought on by immoderate eating of peaches; 
 and, according to the last account from Rouen, the arch- 
 bishop, immediately on his recovery, had again attacked 
 the fruit of which he was passionately fond, in opposition to 
 the express orders of his physician. If the archbishop were 
 to be again prostrated, there was every chance of his vacating 
 an archiepiscopal throne, and also of placing a cardinal's hat 
 at the disposal of the Pope. M. Ponce, the officiely was with 
 the Bishop of Evreux. 
 
 ' My good Ponce,' said the bishop, ' you must procure me 
 money somehow. Between ourselves, the expenses which I
 
 TY EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 shall be compelled to incur, in order adequately to entertain 
 royalty, are so considerable, that I must have my coffer re- 
 plenished, or I shall be involved in difficulties.' 
 
 'I think, my Lord,' answered the confidant, 'that some of 
 the cases for your lordship's court might be compromised, 
 and that would at once produce a sum of ready money.' 
 
 ' My excellent friend, I shall esteem it a favour if you will 
 do so. Are there many cases in hand V 
 
 ' My Lord, I think there are some other cases coming on, 
 but they are not ripe yet. But, if your lordship will take 
 my advice, I should advise attention to be directed rather to 
 the clergy than to the laity. The times, as your lordship is 
 well aware, are somewhat uncertain. A spirit of antagonism 
 to constituted authority is abroad; there is much restlessness, 
 much impatience of the rights of those, whom Providence 
 has ordained masters and governors, in Church and State.' 
 
 ' It is but just that the shepherd should live of the milk of 
 the flock,' said the bishop with dignity. 
 
 ' Your lordship is theoretically right ; but, unfortunately, the 
 flock will not submit to be milked with as great equanimity 
 as heretofore. Since the local parliaments, to the detriment 
 of the liberties of the Church, have assumed to receive appeals 
 from our courts, we have lost the hold upon the laity that we 
 possessed formerly. I think — but here I bow to your lord- 
 ship's superior judgment — that it would not be advisable,
 
 I.Y EXITU ISRAEL. 39 
 
 just at present — I only urge at present, to draw off too much 
 milk from the laity. Now as for the pretrisse, that is quite 
 another matter. The priests are at your disposal, your lord- 
 ship can do with them^ almost what your lordship likes. They 
 are, in fact, mere servants of the bishop. ' 
 
 ' True, Ponce,' said the prelate, blandly ; ' I say to this man 
 go, and he goeth ; and to another do this, and he doeth it.' 
 
 'And the most satisfactory point is this, they have no 
 appeal against their bishop. The law ' 
 
 'I am the law,' interrupted IMonseigneur ; 'to the diocese 
 in all matters ecclesiastical, I repeat the expression, I am the 
 law.' 
 
 'Your lordship is right,' continued the officer; 'and there- 
 fore I would urge that the most ready source of money is to 
 be found in the Church. You have but to fine a priest, and he 
 cannot escape you. He cannot evade your court, he cannot 
 appeal to the crown, he dare not throw himself on public 
 opinion. He is completely at your mercy. He is your slave. 
 If he refuses to comply with your requirements, you can inhibit 
 him, or suspend him. Whilst suspended, the income of the 
 living goes to your lordship, and you have only to provide 
 out of it for the ministration of the sacraments ; a small tax, 
 for there are always indigent or disreputable clergy glad enough 
 to take temporary duty for a trifling fee. But the cure knows 
 better than to resist his diocesan. He has been bred to
 
 40 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 consider it a matter of conscience to yield to his ecclesiastical 
 superior; and, even if conscience does not influence him, 
 common prudence will act upon him, when he considers 
 that every other profession is legally shut against him, so 
 that he must be his bishop's slave, or starve.' 
 
 'I have no wish for a moment to act with undue severity 
 towards my clergy,' said Monseigneur de Narbonne ; 'indeed, 
 I am incapable of any such action; but discipline must be 
 maintained, and when a spirit of defiance manifests itself, 
 even amongst the clergy, it is high time that they should 
 be made to recognise who is master in the Church. The 
 cures dare to call my episcopal acts in question, and to 
 oppose the execution of my projects. Is the Church a con- 
 stitutional government.'' Certainly not; it is a monarchy of 
 which every prelate is sovereign in his own see. The laity 
 may have eluded his crook, but with the spike he can transfix 
 his recalcitrant clergy.' 
 
 ' I can give your lordship an .instance of insubordination 
 corroborative of w^hat you have just stated. I have just re- 
 turned from Bernay ' 
 
 'Ah! there you have one of these new lights,' interrupted 
 the bishop. ' I know his sentiments ; he is a leader of dis- 
 affection, a man of ungovernable vehemence, huge pride, and 
 insolent demeanour.' 
 
 ' Quite so, my Lord,' said ]M. Ponce. ' According to your
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 41 
 
 honoured instructions, he has been closely watched, and, as 
 I learned that he had neglected to light his sanctuary-lamp 
 during three days, he has rendered himself amenable to justice. 
 I have, however, offered him to compromise the matter on the 
 receipt of a fine of twenty-five livres. He has refused me 
 the money, and declares that he will speak to your lordship 
 about it, face to face.' 
 
 ' The fellow must be humbled,' said the prelate ; ' he forgets 
 that he has no legal status, that he is a mere salaried curate, 
 and that I have it in my power to ruin him. I am glad that 
 he is coming here ; I shall have an opportunity of cautioning 
 him to exhibit decorum in his conduct and respect in his 
 
 behaviour. Well, Mademoiselle!' he suddenly exclaimed, as 
 
 the door opened, and his sister entered, embracing a large 
 deal box. 
 
 ' I have brought you your letters, Monseigneur, and ' 
 
 'Well, my good sister, and what.?' 
 
 ' Oh, nothing, nothing ! ' 
 
 ' May I ask what that box contains ? ' enquired the bishop 
 blandly, whilst he took the letters. 
 
 ' Nothing in the world, brother, but ' 
 
 'But what, eh.?' 
 
 ' Oh ! nothing at all' 
 
 ' Shall I retire .? ' asked M. Ponce, who had risen from his 
 seat on the lady's entry.
 
 42 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 ' By no means, my Ponce, by no means ; ' and he began to 
 tear open his letters. 
 
 ' Ha ! begging appeals. The priest of Semerville is restoring 
 his church, and entreats help; the people are too poor, the 
 landlord too chary of giving, and so on.' Away fluttered the 
 note, torn in half, and the qffici'el obsequiously picked it up 
 and placed it with a score other dead appeals in the waste- 
 paper basket. 
 
 ' The cure of S. Julien entreats me to interfere — some widow 
 who has been wronged — bah ! ' and that letter followed the 
 first. 
 
 ' " I have allowed nine months to elapse since the vicaire of 
 Vernon was appointed, and the licence has not yet been 
 forwarded; wherefore, knowing the uncertainty of the post, 
 he is confident that the omission is due to the neglect of the 
 postman, and not of the forgetfulness of the bishop." Humph ! 
 inclined to insolence. That is the way these young curates 
 behave ! You shall await my convenience, M. Dufour.' This 
 letter was crumpled up, and thrown at the basket. 
 
 'An altar to S. Joseph! The clergy of Louviers are 
 desirous — and so on. Well, Louviers is a large place, 
 S. Joseph the patron of the Jesuits; at any other time than 
 this, my good friends.' Away sped this appeal. ' " The 
 cur^ of Beaumont ventures to observe that it is two years 
 since the last confirmation, and that the children are growing
 
 A'V EX ITU ISRAEL. 43 
 
 up and leaving the district." Confound his impudence ! My 
 rule is plain enough, to hold a confirmation every year in 
 the large to\\Tis, Evreux and Louviers ; one every second year 
 in the smaller towns; and one every third year in the rural 
 districts. Sister! enclose a printed slip with that notice to 
 the cure of Beaumont.' 
 
 'Yes, brother.' 
 
 ' What have we here .? So, ho ! a note from M. Berthier, 
 Intendant of Paris, written at his country seat, near Bernay, 
 about Thomas Lindet, who has behaved to him without proper 
 respect, and whose revolutionary principles render him a 
 dangerous person to be the cure of a large and important 
 town. Pass me my paper-case. Ponce, my good fellow, I will 
 send him a note in return to thank him for the information, 
 and to promise that the cure shall be reprimanded and 
 cautioned. Intendant of Paris ! a man of consequence, is he 
 not, Ponce, eh 1 ' 
 
 'A man of very great consequence, my Lord; his father- 
 in-law is iNI. Foulon, a great person at Court, as your lord- 
 ship must know.' 
 
 If the bishop had attended to his sister instead of to his 
 letters, he would have observed that she was carefully placing 
 the deal box underneath the divan or sofa, which occupied 
 one side of the little room. 
 
 ' Can I assist you, Mademoiselle } ' asked M. Ponce.
 
 44 /■^'V^ EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 'On no account/ replied the lady with evident alarm and 
 agitation. 
 
 She made several ineffectual attempts to attract her brother's 
 attention, but he was too absorbed in his letters to notice 
 her. And the moment he had despatched his answer to 
 M. Berthier, he plunged at once into a discussion as to the 
 guests who were to be invited to meet His Royal Highness, 
 at a fete on the evening of his arrival. 
 
 ' I am in doubt whether to ask M. Girardin,' said the prelate ; 
 'what is your opinion, my Ponce ? He is Lieutenant-General 
 of the bailiwick, which should weigh against his lack of 
 nobility; his views are too liberal to please me, he is a bit 
 of a philosopher, has read Rousseau and Voltaire, perhaps, 
 and thinks with Montesquieu. I do not like to introduce a 
 herd of roturiers to the Duke ; and, if one admits two or three, 
 all the burghers of the place will be offended at not having 
 been invited.' 
 
 'As you have done me the honour of asking my opinion,' 
 said the functionary, 'I would recommend you to invite 
 M. Girardin. Feed well those who are not favourably disposed 
 towards you; dazzle those who are your enemies, and you 
 render them powerless.' 
 
 'I quite agree with what you say,' said the bishop. This 
 was not extraordinary, as his official merely repeated a sentiment 
 he had heard Monseigneur express several times before ;
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 45 
 
 ' those whom I cannot suppress I dazzle, those whom I cannot 
 dazzle I invite to my table.' 
 
 ' There is sound worldly wisdom in that/ said M. Ponce. 
 
 'And it works admirably/ the bishop continued; then, 
 turning to his sister, he said, ' Well, Baptistine, what about 
 the box ? ' 
 
 The lady gave a little start, frowned, and shook her head. 
 
 ' Well,' paused the bishop ; ' what is in it ? W^here have 
 you put it } ' 
 
 IVIademoiselle Baptistine at once seated herself on the sofa, 
 and spread her gown, as a screen, to cover it, whilst she 
 made several cabalistic gestures to signify that the presence 
 of a third party prevented her from saying what she wanted. 
 J\I. Ponce caught a glimpse of these signs, or guessed that 
 he was no longer wanted, for he rose, and, after having 
 formally saluted the bishop, and asked permission to retire, 
 he walked sideways towards the door, repeatedly turning 
 to bow. 
 
 As his hand rested upon the latch, the door was thrown 
 open, and a large black retriever bounded mto the room, 
 between the legs of a powdered footman in purple livery, 
 who announced, ' i\I. le ^Marquis de Chambray.' 
 
 The gendeman who entered was tall and thin, with a 
 solemn face, adorned with a pair of huge grey moustaches. 
 His hair was powdered, and the dust covered the collar of
 
 46 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 his velvet coat. He was elaborately dressed, and had the air 
 of an ancient dandy. The Marquis was a man of some 
 fortune, and of illustrious family. He acted for the prince 
 as his deputy in the bailiwicks of Orbec and Bernay. Scarcely 
 less stiff and formal than his appearance was his character. 
 He was an aristocrat of the aristocrats, filled with family pride, 
 and rigid in his adherence to the rules of etiquette of the 
 reign of Louis XIV. He was never known to have made 
 a witty remark, certainly never a wise one. But though 
 neither witty nor wise, he w^as a man who commanded respect, 
 for he was too cautious ever to act foolishly, and too well- 
 bred ever to behave discourteously. 
 
 * Ah ! sapristi ! ' exclaimed the IMarquis ; ' my naughty dog, 
 how dare you intrude? I must apologise, my Lord, for the 
 bad conduct of my dog. I left it in the courtyard, but it has 
 found its way after me.' 
 
 ' Let him remain,' said the bishop ; ' fine fellow, noble dog ! 
 The doors are all open, my dear Marquis; the workmen are 
 engaged in getting the palace just a little tidy for our 
 distinguished visitor. Never mind the dog — it would be 
 impossible to shut him out, whilst the house is in confusion. 
 I am so sorry that you should be shown into this little 
 boudoir; but really, I am driven to it as my only refuge in 
 the midst of a chaos.' 
 
 ' I have come to inform you, my lord bishop, that IMonsieur
 
 JX EXITU ISRAEL. 47 
 
 will be with you on Thursday next, if that will suit your 
 convenience. I received a despatch from him to-day, and, 
 amongst other matters, was a notice to that effect, and a 
 request that the announcement should be made to you 
 immediately.' 
 
 'We shall be proud to receive him, and everything shall 
 be in readiness,' said the bishop. 
 
 ' The weather is exceedingly fine,' observed the IMarquis, 
 turning courteously towards Mademoiselle Baptistine. 
 
 ' It is charming,' answered the bishop's sister, nervously. 
 Mademoiselle Baptistine was a lady of forty-five, with an 
 aquiline nose, of which, as an aristocratic feature, she and 
 her brother were proud. Her complexion was fair, her eyes 
 very pale, and starting from her head, so that she had always, 
 except when asleep, the appearance of being greatly surprised 
 at something. 
 
 ' It is also hot ; Mademoiselle doubtless finds it hot,' said 
 the Marquis. 
 
 'Very much so. I have been quite overcome.' 
 
 ' But it is seasonable,' observed the visitor. And so on. 
 
 Presently, however, the conversation brightened up a litde; 
 for the IMarquis, turning sharply on the bishop, said : ' By the 
 way, I met a member of your family the other day.' 
 
 A scarlet flush covered the bishop's face, and Mademoiselle 
 Baptistine turned the colour of chalk.
 
 48 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 
 
 'I met the old Countess de Narbonne in Paris; she is 
 doubtless a cousin. I told her I was acquainted with your 
 lordship, but she did not seem to know you; probably her 
 memory fails.' 
 
 'The De Narbonne and the De Narbonne -Lara families, 
 though remotely connected, are not the same/ answered the 
 bishop, wiping his hot face; 'the branches separated in the 
 reign of Saint Louis, and therefore the connection between 
 them is distant. IMine crossed the Pyrenees and settled in 
 Spain, where they fought valiantly against the Moors. The 
 castle of Lara is in Andalusia; the family assumed the 
 territorial name of Lara, in addition to the De Narbonne, on 
 their receiving the Spanish estates from a grateful monarch 
 in recognition of their services. IMy grandfather, unfortunately, 
 gambled half the property away, and my father sold the rest 
 to pay off the debts his father had contracted ; an honourable 
 proceeding, which reduced the family, however, greatly. With 
 the remains of his fortune he came to France, retaining 
 possession only of the ancestral castle in Spain.* 
 
 Suddenly Mademoiselle Baptistine uttered a scream. From 
 under the sofa darted the retriever with a huge pasty in its 
 mouth. In its efforts to secure the dainty morsel, it flung 
 the hd of the box from which it had extracted the pie, half 
 way across the room. 
 
 ' What is the dog at ? ' exclaimed the bishop.
 
 IX EX ITU ISRAEL 49 
 
 " Rascal ! ' shouted the ]\Iarquis, ' bring that here instantly.' 
 He threatened the brute with his stick, and the dog crawled 
 to him with the pasty in its mouth. 
 
 ' What manners ! ' cried the nobleman ; ' I am so grieved 
 at the ill-conduct of my dog — No, Madame ! ' as the lady 
 stooped towards the cover of the box, which had contained 
 the delicious tempting pie. ' Never, INIadame ; allow me.' 
 
 ' Allow me ! ' said the bishop, bending his knee, and stooping 
 towards it. But IMademoiselle Baptistine was as active as 
 either of the men ; and thus it came to pass that the three 
 heads met over the lid of the box; and at the same moment 
 the bishop and the Marquis read a printed shop-label, pasted 
 upon it, and directed in manuscript to the bishop, from — 
 
 ^Jacques de Narhonne-Lara {formerly Lara), 
 Maker of the celebrated Strasbourg Goose-liver Pasties. 
 Rue des Capuchins, 6; Strasbourg! 
 
 ' Sapient dog ! ' said the nobleman, rising, and blowing his 
 nose. ' ]My wise Leo knows what is good. Ah ! the pasty 
 is utterly gone, he has eaten it. I quite envy him the mouthful. 
 Pray accept my deepest regret for his misconduct.' 
 
 ' Do not mention it,' answered the bishop, with his eyes still 
 on the hateful label. 
 
 ' I am so glad to have the address,' said the Marquis, with 
 a slight tinge of sarcasm in his voice ; ' I will write to the shop 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 and order some of these pasties for myself — I dote on the pate 
 de foix gras.' And he bowed himself out of the room. 
 
 ' What has that fool Jacques been about ? ' asked the bishop, 
 throwing himself back in his chair, and clasping his hands in 
 the air above his head. 
 
 ' My dear brother ! ' answered Baptistine, ' Jacques has 
 assiuned the same name as you have ; he is proud of being 
 brother to a bishop, that is why — and he has sent you the 
 pasty as an offering of brotherly love — so he says in his letter. 
 I found the box on the table in the hall, and all the servants 
 round it, laughing. I snatched it from them, and brought 
 it up here, when ' the rest was drowned in tears. 
 
 ' He had better have sent me a halter,' said the bishop. 
 
 — :<-<t-«^
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Famine reigned in France, for the resources of the country 
 were drained off to sustain the court in luxury and vice. 
 In seven years, Louis XV added seven hundred and fifty 
 milUons of francs to the two billions and a half of debts 
 left by Louis XIV. Archbishop F^nelon wrote to the 
 Grand Monarque : ' At length, France is become one great 
 hospital, desolate and unprovided with the necessaries of hfe. 
 By yourself alone these disasters have been created. In 
 the ruin of France, everything has passed into your hands ; 
 and your subjects are reduced to live upon your bounty.' 
 
 Louis the Well-Beloved was hunting one day in the forest 
 of Senart. He met a peasant carrying a coffin. ' For whom 
 is that coffin ? ' asked the king. ' For a man.' ' What did 
 he die of .-^ ' ' Hunger.' France was dying : in a few years, 
 but for the Revolution, it would have been dead and buried, 
 killed by famine. 
 
 ' In my diocese,' said the Bishop of Chartres, ' men browse 
 with the sheep.' 
 
 Taxes innumerable were paid. But there was not money 
 
 E 2
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL, 
 
 enough. Hundreds perished, that the beasts of ^sop's fables 
 might squirt water in the duck-ponds of Versailles. The royal 
 mistresses sparkled with jewels, and each jewel cost a human 
 Hfe. One hundred millions of francs went in pensions, the 
 Red Book told on whom. Exemption from taxes was given 
 liberally; the king created nobles, the revenue created em- 
 ployes, all these were exempt. Thus, whilst the sum required 
 of the people increased every year, every year the number of 
 payers decreased. The load weighed on fewer shoulders, and 
 became more and more oppressive. 
 
 At Versailles, fifteen thousand men and five thousand horses 
 were supported at the public cost to give splendour to the seat 
 of royalty; they consumed sixty million livres per annum. 
 The king's house cost eighteen millions, that of the queen 
 four millions, and those of the princes nine milHons, though 
 they possessed as their apannages a seventh part of the territory 
 of France. The Church drew an annual income of four 
 hundred and fifty millions ; the tithes were worth eighty 
 millions, and its buildings were estimated at five hundred 
 millions. Of the land in France, one-fifth belonged to the 
 Church. 
 
 What was the condition of the peasant ? It has been already 
 described; it was he who bore the burden and heat of the day. 
 On his toils the court, the nobles, and the Church lived. It 
 was his blood that they sucked. The peasant might not plant
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 53 
 
 what he would in his fields ; pastures were required to remain 
 pastures, arable land was to be always arable. If he changed 
 his field into meadow, he robbed the cure of his tithe ; if he 
 sowed clover in his fallow land, the landlord or the abbot 
 turned in his flock of sheep, to crop off it what he deemed his 
 share. The lord and the abbot sent out their cattle to pasture 
 an hour before those of the peasant; they had the right to 
 keep huge dovecots, and the pigeons fed on the grain of the 
 farmer. The tenant worked for his landlord three days in the 
 year for himself, three days for each of his sons and servants, 
 and three for each horse and cart. He was bound to cut and 
 make and stack his lord's hay in spring, and to reap and 
 garner his wheat in autumn; to repair the caslle walls, and 
 make and keep up the castle roads. Add to all this the tax 
 to the king, twelve sous per head for each child, the same for 
 each servant, the subvention for the king; the twentieth for 
 the king, that is, the twentieth portion of the fruits of the earth, 
 already tithed for the Church. 
 
 When we hear folk declaim against the French Revolution, 
 do not let us forget what was the state of the people before 
 that event. The Revolution was a severe surgical operation, 
 but it was the salvation of France. 
 
 To the beautiful gothic church of Notre Dame de la Couture, 
 the people of Bernay and the neighbouring villages went in 
 procession, on the Feast of the Assumption, to entreat the
 
 54 ' I^^ EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 Blessed Virgin to obtain for them relief from their miseries. 
 Human succour seemed in vain. If they appealed to the king, 
 his answer was, Give ! If they besought the nobility, they also 
 answered, Give ! If they threw themselves at the feet of the 
 Church, her response was also, Give ! 
 
 Now, throughout the land a cry went up to Heaven. At 
 Bernay it took the form of a pilgrimage. 
 
 The origin of the Church of La Couture was as follows. 
 Far away in the purple of antiquity, when first the faith of 
 Christ began to dawn in Gaul, a shepherd-boy found himself 
 daily deserted by his flock, which left him as he entered the 
 forest in the morning, and only returned to him at nightfall. 
 Impelled by curiosity, he followed the sheep one day, and they 
 led him through bush and brake till he emerged on a pleasant 
 sunny glade upon the slope of the hill, where the pasture was 
 peculiarly rich, and where also, resting against a magnificent 
 wild rose, leaned a black statue of the Blessed Virgin. 
 
 This discovery led to a concourse of pilgrims visidng the 
 image, which had been thus unaccountably placed in the heart 
 of a forest. The clergy of the ancient city of Lisieux sent 
 a waggon to transport the image to their church ; but no 
 sooner was it placed upon their altar than it vanished, and was 
 found next morning in the glade of Bernay. A chapel was 
 erected over it, and was served by a hermit, but the afiiux of 
 pilgrims made the shrine rich, and a church was built in the
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 55 
 
 forest, and about the church a village soon arose. The trees 
 were cut down, and the bottom of the valley was brought into 
 cultivation, from which fact the church obtained its name of 
 La Couture, or Ecclesia de Cultura Bernaii. 
 
 The church is beautifully situated on the steep side of the 
 hill, with its west front towards the slope, and its apse standing 
 up high above the soil, which falls away rapidly from it into 
 the valley. The western doorway is richly sculptured and 
 contains a flamboyant window, occupying the tymphanum of 
 the arch. Above this portal is a large window, which, at the 
 time of our story, was filled with rich tracery, and with richer 
 glass that represented INIary, the Queen of Heaven, as the 
 refuge of all in adversity. In the central light, the Virgin 
 appeared surrounded by flames and rays, her face and hands 
 black, whilst angels harped and sang around her. A fillet 
 surmounted her, bearing the text * Nigra sum, sed formosa, 
 sicut tabernacula cedar.' (Cant. i. 4.) On one side, cripples 
 and sick persons stretched forth their hands to the sacred 
 figure; on the other, were peasants trampled on and smitten 
 by the servants of nobles in armour, whilst above in the tracery 
 might be seen houses and barns in conflagration, and ships 
 about to be engulfed in waves ^ 
 
 ' The window is described from one existing in the north aisle of the church 
 of S. Foy, at Conches, the stained glass in which church is perhaps the finest 
 in Nrrmandy,
 
 56 IX EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 From the west door, a flight of fifteen steps leads down into 
 the nave, so that on entering, the appearance of the church 
 is almost that of a magnificent crypt. 
 
 On the 15th of August, in the afternoon, the church pre- 
 sented an imposing spectacle. Eight parishes had united to 
 visit the shrine, and supplicate the protection of the Blessed 
 Virgin. The day had been hitherto very fine, and the sight 
 enjoyed from the churchyard of the processions arriving from 
 diff"erent quarters, in the bright sunshine, had been singularly 
 beautiful. Each parish procession was headed by its banner ; 
 the clergy, by crucifix and candles. Various confraternities, 
 with their insignia, united to give picturesqueness to the 
 scene. From the interior of the church the eff"ect was striking, 
 as the fine, — endless it seemed, — rippled down the flight of 
 western steps, with tapers twinkling and coloured banners 
 waving; whilst the organ thundered, and the people shouted 
 the refrain of a penitential litany. The illumined figures in 
 the yard contrasted with those in shadow, as they flowed 
 through the portal : this was epecially noticeable when a band 
 of girls in white, with white veils, and lighted taper in hand, 
 preceded by their white banner emblazoned with a representa- 
 tion of the Assumption, moved through the doorway. The 
 leading: ribbons of this banner were held bv two maidens in 
 white ; one of these was Gabrielle, and her appearance in this 
 pure garb was most beautiful. A wreath of white roses
 
 AV EX ITU ISRAEL. 57 
 
 encircled her head, and clasped the muslin veil to her temples. 
 As the shadow of the arch fell upon her, a slight puff of wind 
 extinguished her candle, but on reaching the foot of the steps 
 a taper was held towards her, and she was about to re-light 
 hers at the flame, when, raising her eyes, she encountered those 
 of M. Berthier, who, with a smirk, proffered her his burning 
 candle. She shrank away, and kindled her light at the candle 
 of a girl who followed her. 
 
 M. Berthier was in company with an old gentleman, very 
 thin, with a hatchet face, white hair, and black eyes active and 
 brilliant. He was dressed in an old brown riding-coat, with 
 high collar, over which protruded a short wiry pig-tail, fastened 
 with a large bow. He took snuff, at intervals of a few minutes, 
 from a large gold box ; and he took it in a peculiar manner, 
 not from his fingers but from the palm of his hand, into which 
 he shook the tobacco dust, and from which he drew it into his 
 nostrils by applying the palm to his face. This method of 
 snuffing might be economical, but it was ungainly and dirty, 
 for it left crumbs of tobacco upon the lips, nose, and cheeks 
 of the old man. 
 
 * That is the wench,' said Berthier, after he had politely 
 returned the taper, which he had unceremoniously snatched 
 from the hand of a peasant, that he might offer it to 
 Gabrielle. 
 
 ' A pretty litUe darling,' the old man replied. ' Is this the
 
 58 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 third flame this year, and we only in August ? Bah ! my 
 lad, you are positively shocking.' 
 
 ' Are you going to remain here among these rascals ? ' 
 
 'A moment or two, my friend; I want to see who are 
 the malcontents. Bah ! these people ask Heaven for food. 
 Let Heaven give them rain and sunshine, and the earth 
 yield her increase ; who will profit thereby 1 Not they. 
 Bah ! Famine is not the result of the seasons, it is no 
 natural phenomenon. It is good for the people to be 
 kept on low diet, it humbles them ; America bred fat 
 cattle, and they have thrown off the yoke. What makes 
 the famine, my boy } Why, we make famine, and keep 
 up famine, because the people must be retained in sub- 
 jection.' 
 
 Berthier touched the old man to silence him; Lindet was 
 close to them, and his glittering eye rested on the Intendant 
 and his father-in-law. But Foulon took no notice of the 
 touch, and he continued : — ' Bah ! If they are hungry, let 
 them browse grass. Wait till I am minister, I will make 
 them eat hay; my horses eat it.' 
 
 Thomas Lindet heard the words as distinctly as did Berthier. 
 A flush, deep as ruby, suff"used his face, and he clenched his 
 teeth, whilst a flame darted from his eyes. 
 
 ' W^ho is that devil.?' asked Foulon, with imperturbable calm- 
 ness, of his son-in-law.
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 59 
 
 ' He is the priest of S. Cross, at Eernay. I owe him a 
 grudge. Come out of this crush into the air, I am stifled.' 
 
 Berthier drew his father-in-law to the door. 
 
 The weather was undergoing a change. To the west, above 
 the hill, a semicircle or bow of white cloud, in which the sun 
 made prismatic colours, edged a dense purple-black mass of 
 darkness. It was like gazing into a hideous cavern whose 
 mouth was fringed with fungus. 
 
 'A storm is at hand,' said Berthier; 'it is approaching too 
 rapidly for us to escape. We must remain here.' 
 
 An ash with scarlet berries grew opposite the west door, 
 on high ground. This tree stood up against the advancing 
 clouds like a tree of fire, so intense was the darkness within 
 the bow of white. The leaves scarcely rusded ; at intervals 
 a puff of wind swept over the churchyard and shook the 
 tree, but between the puffs the air was still. Gradually a 
 peculiar smell, very faint, Hke the fume of a brick-kiln at a 
 great distance, filled the air. The white vapourous fringe dis- 
 solved into coils of cloud, ropy, hanging together in bunches, 
 and altering shape at each moment. A film ran over the 
 sun, which was instantly shorn of its rays ; a chill fell on 
 the air, and a shadow overspread the ground; the ash turned 
 grey, and everything that had been golden was transmuted 
 into lead. « 
 
 From the church within sounded the organ, and the people
 
 6o IN EX ITU ISRAEL 
 
 chanting the Magnificat; and incense rose before the altar, 
 on which six candles burned. 
 
 From over the western hill came the mumble of distant 
 thunder, a low continued roll like the traffic of heavy-laden 
 vehicles on a paved road. A few large drops fell and spotted 
 the flagstone on which Berthier and Foulon stood. They 
 looked up. The sky was now covered with whirling masses 
 of vapour, some light curl-like twists flew about before the 
 main body of lurid thunder-cloud, which was seamed and 
 hashed with shooting lights. 
 
 The wind arose and moaned around the church, muttering 
 and hissing in the louvre-boards of the spire ; the ash shivered 
 and shook, the willows and poplars in the valley whitened 
 and bent, and the long grass in the cemetery fell and rose 
 in waves ; the jackdaws flew screaming around the tower, 
 a martin skimmed the surface of the ground, uttering its 
 piercing cry. 
 
 Foulon had been scratching his initials Hstlessly on the 
 flag on which he stood, with the ferule of his walking-stick. 
 Drops like tears falling about it made him say: — 'Come 
 in, Berthier, my boy. The rain is beginning to fall, and you 
 will have your smart coat spotted and spoiled.' 
 
 The two men re-entered the church. Vespers had just con- 
 cluded, and Lindet ascended the pulpit. From where he stood 
 he saw them in the door-way, with the sheet-lightning flashing
 
 I.V EXITU ISRAEL. 6i 
 
 and fading behind them. At one moment they appeared en- 
 circled with flame, at another plunged in darkness. 
 
 ' As I came into this church to-day/ spoke Lindet with dis- 
 tinctness, ' I heard one say to another : If the peasants are 
 hung7y, let them browse grass. I would make them eat hay ; 
 my horses eat it. As I stand in this pulpit, and the lightning 
 illumines yonder window, I see painted there a lean, famished 
 peasant, trampled under the hoofs of the horse of some noble 
 rider, and the great man has his staff raised to chastise the 
 peasant. Under these circumstances, the poor man lifts his 
 hands to heaven, as his only refuge. That is what you do 
 this day, — you, the down-trodden, scourged, and bruised; you 
 who are bidden browse the grass, because that is the food 
 of brute-beasts. Just Heaven ! the importunate widow was 
 heard who cried to the unjust judge to avenge her on her 
 adversary, and shall not God avenge His own elect, though 
 He bear long.^' 
 
 The rain burst with a roar upon the roof, — a roar so loud 
 and prolonged that the preacher's voice was silenced. The 
 vergers closed the great doors to prevent the rain from enter- 
 ing, for the wind began now to blow in great gusts. The 
 fountains of heaven seemed to have burst forth, the rain 
 rattled against the west window, loudly as though hail and 
 not rain were poured upon it. Dazzling flashes of lightning 
 kindled up the whole interior with white brilliancy, casting
 
 62 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 no shadows. The congregation remained silent and awed, 
 the clergy in their tribune opposite the pulpit sat motionless. 
 The candles flickered in the draughts that whistled round 
 the aisles; their flames seemed dull and orange. 
 
 Suddenly the bells in the tower began to peal. Accordmg 
 to popular belief their sound dispels tempests, and the 
 ringers were wont to pull the ropes during a storm. The 
 clash and clangour of the metal alternated with the boom 
 of the thunder. The darkness which fell on the church was 
 terrible, men and women on their knees recited their beads 
 in fear and trembling. Scarce a heart in that great con- 
 course but quailed. Once a child screamed. Then, as for 
 one instant, the bells ceased, the sobbing of a babe at its 
 mother's breast was heard. The water began to flow down 
 the hill, collect into a stream in the churchyard, and to pour 
 in a turbid flood down the steps into the nave. It boiled 
 up under the closed door, it rushed into the tower and dis- 
 lodged the ringers, w^ho were soon over shoe-tops in water. 
 
 A startled bat flew up and down the church, and dashing 
 against the altar-candles extinguished one with its leathern 
 wings. 
 
 All at once the rain ceased to fall, and the wind lulled. 
 None stirred ; all felt that the tempest was gathering up its 
 strength for one final explosion ere it rolled away. Then a 
 tall thin woman in black, with a black veil thrown over her
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 63 
 
 head, was observed to have stationed herself immediately before 
 the altar, where she knelt with outstretched arms and uplifted 
 face. Those who were near observed with horror that the 
 face, from which the veil was upthrown, was of a blue-grey 
 colour. When she had made her way to her present situation 
 none knew ; none had observed her in the procession, for then 
 she had been, probably, closely veiled. She threw her arms 
 and hands passionately towards the black Virgin above the 
 altar, and in the stillness of that lull in the storm her piercing 
 cry was heard pealing through the church, 'Avenge me on 
 my adversary.' 
 
 * My God ! ' whispered Berthier to his father-in-law, as he 
 pointed to the excited worshipper, ' look at my wife, Foulon ! 
 she has gone mad.' 
 
 'Bah!' answered the imperturbable old man; 'nothing of 
 the sort, my boy; she is invoking vengeance upon you and 
 me.' 
 
 Instantly the whole church glared with light, brighter than 
 on the brightest summer day. No one present saw any 
 object, he saw only light — light around him, light within him, 
 followed by a crash so deafening and bewildering that it was 
 some minutes before any one present was able to perceive 
 
 '- what had taken place, much less to realize it. 
 
 ( The lightning had struck the tower, glanced from it, bring- 
 ing part of the spire with it; had rent the west wall of the 

 
 64 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 church, and had shattered the slab on which, some minutes 
 previously, Foulon and Berthier had been standing. 
 
 This was the last effort of the storm ; the sky lightened after 
 this explosion, the rain fell with less violence, and gradually 
 ceased. 
 
 The congregation left the church. The torrent, which had 
 rushed down the hill, had in some places furrowed the graves 
 and exposed the dead. The grass was laid flat, and much 
 of it was buried in silt. Every wall and eave dripped, and 
 the valley of the Charentonne lay under water. 
 
 —=<«♦§;>» a*^:' 
 
 ^■.'•SS^'-fii^
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Matthias Axdee did not join the procession. He had 
 been to mass in the morning, for the Assumption was a day 
 of obligation. And now he sat smoking bad tobacco out 
 of an old brown clay pipe, on the seat before his door, facing 
 due north, towards Bernay ; there was a corn-field on his right, 
 cut off from the Isle of Swallows by a ri^Tilet of water — a 
 field he had ploughed whilst his daughter Gabrielle drove the 
 horses, which he had sown with his own hands, and which 
 he had reaped. Gabrielle had bound the sheaves after him, 
 and now the shocks stood in goodly array, waiting to be 
 garnered. They had been waiting thus tweh'e days. The 
 harvest was late this year, owing to the cold spring. Much 
 corn was down in the country, and the tithe-cart of the 
 monastery had been round to farm after farm, and had come 
 last to his. He did not dare to remove a sheaf till the Abbey 
 ad taken its tenth ; and after the monks came the revenue 
 officers, taking their twentieth. What the palmer-worm had 
 left, the locust devoured. Now came the feast-day, on which 
 all work ceased, so the good wheat remained a thirteenth 
 'ay unstacked. 
 
 'OL. I. F
 
 66 AV EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 Sullen, with downcast eyes, sat the peasant without his 
 coat, but in his red velvetine waistcoat, drawing long whiffs 
 from his pipe, and blowing them leisurely through his nostrils. 
 
 Beside him sat a little wiry brown man, with coarse serge 
 suit of snuflf-brown, face and hands, stockings and cap, to 
 match. His eyes were sharp and eager. This was Edenne 
 Percenez, the colporteur. 
 
 ' You have not joined the procession, ]\Iatthias, my friend,' 
 said the Httle man, filling a pipe. 
 
 ' For five and forty years 1 have supplicated God, our 
 Lady, and the Saints, to assist me in my poverty, and the 
 answers to my prayers have been doled out in such scant 
 measure, that I have almost given up prayer,' answered 
 Andre. 
 
 'You must work as well as pray,' quoth the little man, 
 with his pipe in his mouth. 
 
 ' Do I not work ? ' asked the peasant-farmerj turning almost 
 fiercely on his friend; 'I work from morning Ull night, and 
 from the new year to the new year. But what does that 
 avail when the season is bad .' A hard winter, a late summer, 
 and then fiery heat from June to August, without a drop of 
 rain. The grass is hardly worth mowing; the clover is short 
 and scanty, and the corn-crops are poor. When we thrash 
 out the wheat, we shall find the greater part of the ear is 
 husk.'
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 67 
 
 ' Things may mend/ said the colporteur ; ' they always 
 reach their worst before they right themselves. When we 
 have the States-general, why then we shall see, we shall see ! ' 
 
 Matthias shrugged his shoulders. ' What did the Notables 
 do for us last year .? ' 
 
 ' The Notables are very different from the States-general. 
 The Notables were all chosen out of the nobility — one 
 hundred and forty oppressors met together, to decide how 
 much greater oppression we could be made to bear. But 
 in the States-general, the oppressed will have a voice, and 
 can cry out.' 
 
 ' The Notables are summoned again.' 
 
 ' Yes, my friend, they are summoned by Necker, but not 
 to consult on the deficit, but to deliberate on the form of 
 election to the States-general, and on their composition.' 
 
 ' How great is the deficit .? ' 
 
 'At the end of last year the expenditure surpassed the 
 receipt by one hundred and ten millions, and the deficit 
 «ow amounts to sixteen hundred and thirty millions. The 
 exchequer cannot borrow money, for Necker has discredited 
 loans by publishing the state of the finances. Do you think 
 the Notables, the princes of blood-royal, the chiefs of the 
 nobility, the clergy and the magistracy, will pay the debt 
 out of their own pockets.'' No, no; they like to spend and 
 not to pay. Now, the king is going to call together the 
 
 F 2
 
 68 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 States-general. The Notables pay ! they saw only in Calonne's 
 scheme the spoliation of the nobility and clergy, that is why 
 they drove Calonne away, and brought in Lom^nie de Brienne, 
 the bishop, in his stead; they brought a churchman into the 
 ministry to bury the public credit, dead long ago. De Brienne 
 finds that there is no other resource but to take possession 
 of Calonne's plans, and ask the Parliament of Paris to consent 
 to a vast loan. But the Parliament is made up of judges, 
 men grave and economical, and they are indignant at an 
 impost on their lands. Why should they be made to pay 
 for Monsieur the Count d'Artois' fetes, and the queen's follies .? 
 Why consent to a debt ever accumulating, and acquiesce in 
 the ruin of France? Tell me that, my friend Matthias. 
 When the walls crack, we do not paste paper over the rents 
 to hide them — we dig down to the foundations, and we relay 
 them. Perhaps the Parliament of Paris thought this, my 
 Andrd, so they appealed to the States-general. The States- 
 general we shall have ; and then, Matthias, we, the oppressed, 
 the tax-payers, the hungry — we shall have a voice, and shall 
 speak out ; and, Matthias ! we shall make ourselves heard.' 
 
 * Go on,' said the farmer ; ' tell me the rest.' 
 
 ' The king declares that he will convoke the States- 
 general' 
 
 ' We shall speak out t ' asked Andre, hesitatingly. 
 
 'Our own fault, if we do not.'
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 69 
 
 * But they will punish us if we do.' 
 
 ' What, Matthias, punish all France ! Remember, all France 
 will speak.' 
 
 ' And we can tell the good king that the tax-gatherers, and 
 the excise, and the nobles, and the abbes, are crushing us.'' 
 that they are strangling us, that we are dying .? ' 
 
 ' Surely.' 
 
 'And the tax-gatherers, and the excise, and the nobles, 
 and the abbes, cannot revenge themselves on us for saying 
 that.?' Andr^ leaned back and laughed. He had not 
 laughed for many years, and his laugh now was not that 
 of gaiety. • 
 
 * A storm is rising,' said Percenez, pointing over the hill. 
 '■ Will the king listen to us } ' 
 
 ' Yes, he will listen.' 
 
 ' But will he redress our wrong } ' 
 
 ' We shall make him. He has put the means into our 
 hands.' 
 
 The first roll of thunder was heard. 
 
 *We shall be relieved of the taxes, the gabelle, the 
 corvee ? ' 
 
 ' I do not say that ; but the taxes will be levied on all 
 alike.' 
 
 ' What ! will the abbe and the noble pay six sous a livre 
 for salt, and pay the taille ? '
 
 7o IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 'Certainly, we shall make them pay. We pay, so must 
 they/ 
 
 Again Andr^ leaned back and exploded into laughter, whilst 
 from over the hill the forked lightnings darted, and the 
 thunder boomed. 
 
 The two men watched the approach of the tempest. The 
 mutter of the thunder was now unceasing, and the vault was 
 illumined with continuous flashes. 
 
 ' I must hasten home,' said Etienne Percenez, ' or my old 
 dame will die of fright at being alone in the storm.' 
 
 ' And I will go in/ said Andre. But he did not go in 
 at once; he stood in his door. As Percenez crossed the 
 foot-bridge, he heard his friend bellow. Thinking he was 
 calling, the little brown man turned his head; he saw that 
 Andre was laughing. 
 
 ' I cannot help it,' roared the peasant ; ' to think of the 
 nobles, the intendants, and the abbes, paying taxes ! ' and 
 he roared again. Then he signed to Percenez. 
 
 ' The storm is coming on.' 
 
 ' Very, very fast,' cried the other, beginning to run. 
 
 IMatthias went inside the house, and seated himself before 
 the fireless hearth, and listened to the wind growling round 
 the eaves. The rain splashed against the little window, glazed 
 with round panes. There was a leak in the roof, and through 
 it the water dribbled upon the floor of the bedroom over-
 
 IN EXirU ISRAEL. 
 
 head. It became so dark in the chamber, that IMatthias 
 would have lit a candle, had not candles cost money. 
 The water swept down the window in waves; the house 
 trembled at each explosion of the thunder. Going to the 
 door, the peasant saw by the lightning no part of the land- 
 scape, for the rain falling in sheets obscured everything. He 
 shut the door; the flashes dazzled him. Then he threw 
 himself down on a bench, and put his hands to his ears, 
 to shut out the detonations of the thunder, and began to 
 think about Necker and the States-general, and the probability 
 of the nobles and clergy paying taxes, and this idea still 
 presented itself to him in such a novel and ludicrous light, 
 that again he laughed aloud. All at once an idea of another 
 kind struck him, as his hand touched the floor and encountered 
 water. He leaped with a cry to his feet and splashed over 
 the floor. He rushed to the door. The darkness was clearing, 
 and by the returning light, as the rain began to cease, and 
 the surrounding hills to become visible, he observed every 
 lane converted into a torrent of brown fluid; the roads had 
 become watercourses, and w^ere pouring turbid streams 
 through the gates into the fields and meadows. The 
 Charentonne had risen, and was rising every moment. The 
 water was level with the bridge which conducted into his 
 corn-field, and that was above the surface of the ground, for 
 it rested on a smaH circumvallation raised lo protect the
 
 7 2 AV EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 field from an overflow. For a moment he gazed at his wheat ; 
 then he burst away through the sallows and willow-herbs 
 which grew densely together behind his cottage, drenching 
 himself to the skin, and for ever marring the crimson velvet 
 waistcoat; and struggled through the rising overflow and 
 dripping bushes to the south point of his isle, where usually 
 extended a gravelly spit. That was now submerged; he 
 plunged forward, parting the boughs, and reached a break 
 in the coppice, whence he could look up the valley. At 
 that moment the sun shot from the watery rack overhead, 
 and the bottom of the vale answered with a glare. Its green 
 meadows and yellow corn-fields were covered with a sheet of 
 glistening water, its surface streaked with ripples, pouring 
 relentlessly onwards, and lifting the water-line higher as each 
 broke. Clinging to a poplar, from which the drops shivered 
 about him, up to his middle in water, stood Matthias Andre, 
 stupefied with despair. Then slowly he turned, and worked 
 his way back. 
 
 The few minutes of his absence had wrought a change. 
 His garden was covered, and the flood had dissolved or 
 overleaped the dyke of the corn-field, and was flowing around 
 his shocks of wheat. 
 
 Nothing could possibly be done for the preservation of his 
 harvest. He stationed himself on the bench at his door, and 
 watched the water rise, and upset his sheaves, and float them
 
 I.V EXITU ISRAEL. 73 
 
 off. Some went down the river, some congregated in an eddy, 
 and spun about ; others accumulating behind them, wedged 
 them together, and formed a raft of straw. 
 
 ' Go ! ' shouted he to his corn-sheaves ; ' sodden and spoiled, 
 I care not if ye remain. Go ! now I must starve outright, 
 and Gabrielle — she must starve too." 
 
 Gabrielle ! 
 
 Instantly it occurred to him that she was at the church, and 
 would need protection and assistance in returning. 
 
 He went inside and put on his coat, took a strong pole in 
 his hand, and bent his steps towards the foot-bridge. It was 
 not washed away, but it was under water. He felt for it with 
 the pole, found it, and crossed cautiously. Then he took the 
 road to La Couture. Many people met him. Recovered 
 from their alarm, their tongues were loosened, and they were 
 detaiHng their impressions of the storm to one another. Andre 
 accosted a neighbour, and asked him if he had seen Gabrielle. 
 He had not; but supposed she was behind; — many, he said, 
 were still in the churchyard, waiting for the flood to subside. 
 
 Some old w^omen, who lived in a cottage only a hundred 
 paces beyond the stile across which Andre strode into the road 
 from his islet, now came towards him. 
 ^Neighbour Elizabeth, have you seen my child } ' 
 
 ' No, Gaffer Andre.' 
 
 A Httle farther on he met a girl-friend of Gabrielle's, in
 
 74 ly EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 white, with her wreath somewhat faded, and her candle ex- 
 tinguished. 
 
 ' Josephine ! where is my little one ? ' 
 
 ' I do not know, father Andre ; I have been looking for her 
 amongst the girls of our society, but I could not find her.' 
 
 ' Do you think she is still in the church ? ' 
 
 ' That may be, but I do not think it is likely ; you know that 
 the lightning struck the spire.' 
 
 * Was any one killed .^ ' 
 
 ' No; but we were all dreadfully frightened.' 
 
 Matthias pushed on. He questioned all who passed, but 
 could gain no tidings of Gabrielle. Several, it is true, had seen 
 her in the procession ; some had noticed her in the church ; 
 but none remembered to have observed her after the fall of the 
 lightning. 
 
 Andr^ was not, however, alarmed. He thought that possibly 
 his daughter was still in church, praying; probably she was 
 with some friend in a cottage at La Couture. Gabrielle had 
 many acquaintances in that little village, and nothing was more 
 probable than that one of them should have invited the girl 
 home to rest, and take some refreshment, till it was ascertained 
 that the water had sufficiently subsided to permit of her return 
 to the Isle of Swallows. 
 
 When he reached La Couture, he went direct to the church. 
 He was shocked to see the havoc created there by the
 
 IX EX ITU ISRAEL. 75 
 
 bursting of the storm; workmen were already engaged in 
 filling the graves that had been ploughed up by the currents, 
 and covering the coffins which had been exposed ; head- 
 crosses lay prostrate and strewn about, and the sites of some 
 graves had completely disappeared. A knot of people stood 
 at the west end of the church, gazing at the ruin effected by 
 the lightning ; the summit of the spire was cloven, a portion 
 leaned outward, the lead was curled up like a ram's horn, and 
 a strip of the metal dissolved by the electric fluid exposed 
 the wooden rafters and framework of the spire. The stroke 
 had then glanced to the apex of the nave gable, thrown down 
 the iron cross surmounting it, had split the wall, shattered 
 the glass, and then had fallen upon and perforated the 
 threshold. 
 
 Matthias Andre entered the church, and sought through its 
 chapels for his daughter. She was not there. No one was 
 in the sacred building. 
 
 Then he entered the village, and visited one house after 
 another. No one had tidings to tell of Gabrielle. The father 
 became anxious. He enquired for the girl who had borne 
 the banner of the Blessed Virgin. He asked her about his 
 daughter, who had stood near her, holding the leading 
 ribbon. 
 
 She had seen Gabrielle, of course she had, when they 
 entered the church ; she sat near her in the aisle during vespers.
 
 76 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 When the storm came on, Gabrielle seemed to be greatly 
 alarmed ; she must have fainted when the lightning fell, be- 
 cause two gentlemen had carried her out of church. 
 
 Whilst the girl spoke, she stood in the doorway of her 
 cottage, holding the trunk of a vine which was trellised over 
 the front of the house and a small open balcony, to which 
 a flight of stairs outside the dwelling gave access. 
 
 The girl was the sister of Jean Lebertre, cure of the church, 
 and she kept house for her brother. During the conversation, 
 a priest stepped out of the upper room that opened on to the 
 balcony, and leaning his elbows on the wooden rail, looked 
 down on Andre'. 
 
 ' What is the matter ? ' he asked. 
 
 Matthias turned his face to the questioner. It was Lindet. 
 
 ' I cannot discover what has become of my daughter, Mon- 
 sieur le Cure. Pauline, here, asserts that she fainted in church 
 at the great thunder-clap, and that she was carried out by two 
 gentlemen.' 
 
 In a moment, Lindet strode down the stairs, and said, 
 looking fixedly with his bright eyes on the girl : 
 
 ' Answer me, Pauline, who were those gentlemen ? ' 
 
 ' I do not know, monsieur.' 
 
 ' What were they like .'' ' 
 
 ' Ma foi ! I was so dazzled that I hardly know.' 
 
 ' Are you sure they were gentlemen ? '
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 7 7 
 
 ' Oh, monsieur ! of course they were. One had on a velvet 
 coat.' 
 
 ' Of what colour ? ' 
 
 ' Reddish-brown, I think/ 
 
 ' And is that all you observed of him ? ' 
 
 ' He wore a sword.' 
 
 ' And the other 1 ' 
 
 * The other gentleman was quite old.' 
 ' Did you see the face of the first ? ' 
 
 ' I think so.' 
 
 ' And did you notice any peculiarity .? Consider, Pauline.' 
 
 * His eyes were strange. The sockets seemed inflamed.' 
 Lindet beat his hands together ; Andre folded his arms 
 
 doggedly, and his chin sank on his breast, whilst a cloud 
 settled on his brow. 
 
 * That is enough,' he said, in sullen tones ; ' I am going 
 home.' 
 
 Lindet caught his arm. 
 
 * Are you going home, man ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, I am tired. I have lost my crops, I have lost my 
 daughter, and, what is worst, I have spoilt my best waistcoat.' 
 
 * What ! will you not make further enquiries ? Your daugh- 
 ter will be ruined,' said Lindet, vehemently. 
 
 ' Why make further enquiries ? I know now where she is.' 
 ' And will you make no effort to recover her ? '
 
 78 I^' EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 ' Why should I ? I can do nothing. The poor cannot 
 resist the great. The storm came on just now, and the light- 
 ning smote yon spire. Why did you not make an effort to 
 protect the spire ? Because you were powerless against the 
 bolt of heaven. Well ! that is why I make no attempt to pro- 
 tect my child ; what could I do to oppose the will of an 
 Intendant, a great man at Court, and very rich .? ' 
 
 ' The child will be ruined. Make an attempt to save her.' 
 
 Andre shook his head. 
 
 'No attempt I could make would save her; no attempt 
 I could make would save my corn either. I shall go home 
 and wipe my waistcoat; perhaps I may save that ixovci utter 
 ruin.' 
 
 ►<=«<(jp <!)♦=.•<
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Thomas Lindet was not satisfied. Some effort must be 
 made to rescue the girl. If the father would not move, he 
 must. He started immediately for the chateau. He was an 
 impetuous man; what he resolved on doing he did at once, 
 as quickly as he could. 
 
 In half an hour he was at the Chateau Malouve. 
 
 The house was small and modern. It stood by itself, with 
 the woods for a background, on the slope of the hill, facing 
 south-east. The ground before it fell rapidly away towards 
 the valley, and was in field and pasture. A terrace had been 
 formed in front of the house, with a pond in the midst, and 
 a triton to spout water from a conch-shell. But as the chateau 
 occupied high ground, and there was little water on a higher 
 level, the triton maintained in wet weather an inconsiderable 
 dribble, which not even the storm of that day could convert 
 into a jet; but in hot weather it was dry. 
 
 The chateau was flanked by two square blocks, the roofs 
 of which were capped with tower-roofs and weathercocks. 
 The body of the building had the high exaggerated roof of
 
 8o IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 Louis XIV's time, pierced with attic louvres. Every window 
 was provided with emerald green shutters, and the walls being 
 of a chalky whiteness, the house had a gay and smiling ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 M. Berthier had a large house in Paris, in which he resided 
 the major portion of the year, only visiting Malouve in the 
 summer for a month or two. 
 
 At the back of the chateau was a yard, one side occupied 
 by stables, another by servants' offices ; access to this yard was 
 obtained through an iron gate painted green and gold, set 
 in a lofty iron railing, very gay with paint, very strong and 
 insurmountable, the spikes at the summit being split and con- 
 torted so as to form a pretty, but, at the same time, an emi- 
 nendy practical chevaux-de-frise. 
 
 As Thomas Lindet approached the gate, two hounds rushed 
 out of their kennels before the coach-house door, and barked 
 furiously. One was chained, but the other, by accident, had 
 got loose, the staple which fastened the chain having given 
 way ; and the brute now flew to the gates, dragging the clank- 
 ing links after him, and leaped against the iron bars. 
 
 The shovel hat and black cassock were an unusual sis^ht to 
 the dog, and the costume of the priest excited it to a pitch 
 of fury. First it set its head down, with the paws extended, 
 rolled back its lips exposing the pink gums and white fangs, 
 and growled ; then it leaped up the iron rails, as though
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 desirous of scrambling over them, started back, barked 
 furiously ; its chained brother assisting vociferously. The 
 eyes of the hound became bloodshot. It flung itself again 
 and again at the gate, it ran along the line of rails, leaping 
 on the dwarf wall in which they were fixed, and slipping 
 instantly off it, scrambling up again, and catching at the bars 
 with its teeth, searching along the whole length for a gap, 
 through which it could force its way ; sometimes thrusting 
 its head between the rods, and then, nipped by them, becoming 
 more furious ; racing back to the great gates, scraping at the 
 earth under them with intent to burrow a way to get at the 
 priest, but always unsuccessful. 
 
 Lindet rang the great bell. 
 
 A rakish-looking footman opened the glass doors of the 
 house, looked out and called ' Poulet ! Poulet ! ' to the hound, 
 but it paid no attention, so the footman sauntered to the 
 stable and then to the coach-house, in search of a groom. 
 As he passed the kennel, he kept at some distance from the 
 chained dog, but addressed it in a conciliatory tone — 'Eh 
 bien ! Pigeon, mon ami ! Soyez tranquil, cher Pigeon.' But 
 the Pigeon paid no more attention to this advice than did 
 the Chicken to his calls. 
 
 Not being able to find the groom, the footman leisurely 
 visited the garden, and called, not too loudly, 'Gustave!' 
 Gustave, the gardener, having at last turned up, a little con- 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 JY EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 versation ensued between him and Adolphe, the footman, 
 which ended in both appearing in the court, and making 
 towards the hound from opposite quarters, Adolphe keeping 
 unduly in the rear. 
 
 Having approached the dog — which by this time had worked 
 itself into a mad rage, apparently quite ungovernable — within 
 such distance as Gustave, on one side, and Adolphe on the 
 other, respectively thought consistent with prudence, ' Come 
 on, my brave fellow, excellent dog, worthy hound, trustiest 
 of chickens!' called Adolphe, 'come, don't be a naughty child. 
 Come, be docile once more, and all shall be forgotten.' . 
 
 ' Come this way, you rascal!' roared Gustave authoritatively, 
 ' come and let me chain you up, or, sapristi ! I'll dash your 
 brains out, I'll tear the liver out of you, I'll poke your red 
 eyes out, I'll ci.t off your bloodthirsty tongue. Sacre ! I give 
 you three minutes by the clock, and, ventre gris ! if you 
 don't obey me, I'll be the death of you. Come, you insolent, 
 audacious ruffian. Come this moment ! ' 
 
 But the dog paid not the slightest attention to the entreaties 
 of Adolphe and the threats of Gustave. 
 
 Lindet folded his arms, and looked on the men con- 
 temptuously. They were both afraid of the hound, but pre- 
 tended that they were not. 
 
 ' You must give him rein,' said Adolphe ; ' he will exhaust 
 himself, and the poulet will be an angel once more.'
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 83 
 
 ' Not for a moment/ roared Gustave ; ' suffer that demon 
 an inch of liberty ; never ! He shall be chained to a block 
 of stone, — he shall not move a paw, he shall not open his 
 mouth, he shall not wink an eye. He shall have no meat 
 for a thousand days, till the devil in him is expelled ! ' 
 
 ' I will fetch the dear fellow a sponge-cake. I know he 
 loves sweets, do you not, my Poulet } And above all sweets, 
 sponge-cake ; yes, in one moment ! Be gentle till my return/ 
 
 ' I will get my double-weigiited whip, with lead in it, and 
 fifty thousand knots in the lash, and nails in each knot, and 
 the nails rusty, and crooked, and spiked. Ah ! ha ! they will 
 make the devil jump ; they will make the devil bleed ! 
 Sapristi ! I will cut and chop and mangle his accursed 
 hide.' 
 
 'Bah!' said a creaky voice. 
 
 M. Foulon was there. He had heard the noise, which was 
 indeed deafening, and had descended to the yard from his 
 room. He • was in his brown topcoat, and the little wiry 
 pigtail with its huge bow protruded over it like a monstrous 
 dragon-fly that had alighted on his collar. 
 
 ' Bah ! you are three fools,' said he ; then, drawing his 
 great gold snuff-box from his breast pocket, he poured some 
 of the dust into his hand, snuffed it up himself, strewing his 
 face with particles of tobacco, then he emptied half that re- 
 
 G 2
 
 84 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 mained in the box into his hand, and walked leisurely up to 
 Poulet. 
 
 *Eh bien, Poulet!' said he, with a tone of mingled banter 
 and defiance. The hound turned its head instantly, snarled, 
 cowered, and the old man flung the snuff into its face. 
 
 'Now you may go and wink and sneeze your superfluous 
 spirits away, you chicken, you!' Foulon continued; 'now you 
 may go to your darling brother Pigeon, and you may tell 
 him that you do not like snuff", that snuff is expensive, because 
 of the excise; that we have a monopoly of tobacco, and that 
 the revenue gains by tobacco. Do you understand, Poulet.? 
 Well, go and tell Pigeon all about it. Here, I will help you.' 
 He caught the end of the chain, and drew the dog after 
 him to its kennel. The brute's attention was engrossed by 
 its own distress, the snuff" in its eyes blinded it, the snuff" 
 up its nose afflicted it with sneezing, and down its throat 
 choked it. 
 
 Foulon called to Gustave for a hammer. Adolphe ran 
 with alacrity to look for one, Gustave brought one. The 
 old man calmly snuffed again, then took the hammer and 
 riveted the staple. ' Now, then, you rascal,' said he, turning 
 abruptly upon the footman ; ' do you not see that you have 
 left Monsieur le Cure outside the gate.? How thoughtless, 
 how unmannerly ! ' 
 
 Adolphe bounded to the railing and unlocked the iron
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 85 
 
 gate. Thomas Lindet walked past him, and went straight 
 towards Monsieur Foulon. 
 
 The old gentleman removed his hat and bowed courteously ; 
 the priest, absorbed in the purpose of his visit, had forgotten 
 these courtesies. He now bent towards Foulon stiffly, and 
 raised his shovel hat. 
 
 'You have done me an honour I never hoped to have 
 enjoyed. This day you have made me a proud man ; hitherto 
 I have been humble. Beware, my dear cure, or you will blow 
 me up into extravagant conceit.' 
 
 Lindet looked at him with surprise. 
 
 ' You did me the honour of preaching an observation I made 
 within your hearing to my excellent son-in-law, the good 
 Berthier. I did not know that my remarks were so valuable, 
 so deserving of repetition.' 
 
 ' I have come to speak of quite another matter,' said Lindet. 
 
 'Indeed! I thought your visit was one of congratulation 
 to the poor old man, Foulon, on having made a shrewd and 
 pertinent remark at last — at last, after so many years of 
 stupidity, Foulon has given promise of being witty and wise. 
 But allow me to observe that you did not give my remarks 
 exactly as they were made. . Not that a word or two is of 
 consequence, but still accuracy is a point — a point, you under- 
 stand, we revenue farmers learn to appreciate.' 
 
 ' Sir, I came here '
 
 86 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 * Pardon me, my dear cure, we will stick to the point. The 
 expressions I used were these. " Bah ! — " you did not render 
 that interjection in your version. Now, that interjection is 
 expressive ; besides, it is characteristic ; I always use it. Well, 
 I said, "Bah! if the peasants are hungry, let them browse 
 grass. Wait till I am minister, I will make them eat hay; 
 my horses eat hay." You left out the words "wait till I am 
 minister." Be exact, my good friend ; exactness is a virtue.' 
 
 ' M. Foulon, I have come here ' 
 
 'One moment, my good cur^; here is a little lesson of 
 Christian forgiveness for you to take home with you. This 
 day you desired to turn loose these hungry peasants on me ; 
 this day I have chained up a savage bloodhound that was 
 ravening to be at your throat. Now, what have you to say?' 
 
 ' I want to know where is the girl Gabrielle Andre, whom 
 your son-in-law, M. Berthier, and you, ]\I. Foulon, carried out 
 of church this afternoon ? ' 
 
 ' Bah ! I am ashamed of my good, model cure. He is as 
 bad as we naughty laymen, and runs after pretty girls and 
 petticoats.* 
 
 Lindet clenched his hands and teeth. 
 
 ' She is your charming niece, is she not .? Ah, ha i my sad 
 scapegrace of a cur^ ! ' 
 
 * M. Foulon, I will not have this,' said the priest, passion- 
 ately ; ' this insult is intolerable/
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 87 
 
 ' Then you can always leave the court/ answered the old 
 man ; ' see ! the door is open. But we wdll not quarrel. 
 Come along into the hall and have some refreshment.' 
 
 Lindet stamped. The imperturbable coolness and insolence 
 of the old gentleman exasperated his fiery spirit. 
 
 ' Come, come, cool down,' said Foulon ; ' I did not mean 
 to irritate you. Is the girl your relative } ' 
 
 'No.' 
 
 ' Of course, then, she is one of your parishioners ? ' 
 
 * No, she is not.' 
 
 ' Then, pardon me, but I am surprised at your taking so 
 much trouble, and running the risk of being torn to pieces 
 by those villanous dogs, to make enquiries about her. I will 
 answer all your enquiries with the utmost frankness, if you 
 can assure me that her father authorized you to come here 
 and demand her.' 
 
 Lindet's face became crimson. He bit his lips with vexation. 
 That he was completely at the old man's mercy, he felt; and 
 he was conscious that the revenue-farmer was making him 
 ridiculous. 
 
 ' I insist on knowing whether the girl is here. I know her 
 father and her, and I have a perfect right to make these 
 enquiries. I now ask to see her. You dare not keep her 
 here against her father's and her own will.' 
 
 'You are the most inconsequent of curds,' exclaimed
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 Foulon, laughing gently; 'you ask to see her, and you ask 
 at the same time whether she is here. I neither say that she is 
 here, nor that she is not here. As to your seeing her, that is 
 out of the question. If she be not here, how can I show 
 her to you.? If she be here, I do not bring the chamber- 
 maids into the courtyard to receive pastoral exhortations.' 
 
 Whilst speaking with Lindet, the old gentleman had moved 
 slowly towards the gates of the yard: Lindet had followed 
 him, without observing whither he was conducting him. Thus 
 Foulon had drawn him outside the rails. Now, having finished 
 this last insulting speech, spoken with an air of politeness and 
 cordiaUty, he suddenly turned on his heel, stepped within, 
 slammed and locked the iron gates of the enclosure, leaving 
 Lindet without. 
 
 The cure attempted to speak again; but Foulon retired, 
 waving his hand and hat, and bowing courteously. Then 
 he made the circuit of the house, in hopes of finding 
 another door, but was baffled. It is true there was a small 
 door in a high wall, which led into the garden, but it was 
 fastened from within. The terrace was so raised, being built 
 up from the slope, that it could not be reached, and on every 
 other side the chateau was enclosed by walls and rails. 
 
 Lindet wasted a few minutes in making the round of the 
 premises, feeling all the while that he should be at a loss 
 w:hat course to pursue, even if he did penetrate once more
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 within. At last he desisted and retired, satisfied that the 
 only person who could claim access to the girl, with any 
 chance of obtaining it, was her father; and Lindet was con- 
 vinced that he could not be stimulated to make the attempt. 
 
 Had Lindet accompanied Andre home to 'les Hirondelles, 
 instead of rashly going himself in quest of Gabrielle, he would 
 have done her a greater service. 
 
 When ]Matthi).s Andre returned to les Hirondelles, he found 
 that the water/4iad subsided almost as rapidly as it had risen. 
 The plank-b(-idge was no longer submerged, and the garden 
 and house/were clear. The corn-field presented the appear- 
 ance of/a large pond, but that was because the dyke re- 
 tained/''^the water ; there being no gap in it, there was no 
 drainage. 
 
 /To his amazement, he saw i\I. Berthier seated at' his door. 
 /Andre scowled at him, but deferentially removed his bonnet. 
 
 ' Good evening, man !' said the Intendant, nodding, but not 
 rising from his seat. 'Your name is Matthias Andre, is it 
 not?' 
 
 ' Yes, monsieur.' 
 
 ' Ah ! your daughter was at the church this afternoon ?' 
 
 ' She was, monsieur, and I cannot find her ' 
 
 ' I know, I know,' interrupted Berthier ; ' I can tell you more 
 about her than you could tell me.' 
 
 ' Monsieur, I heard that you and your honoured father-in-law
 
 go IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 had removed her from the church, when she fainted during the 
 thunderstorm.' 
 
 ' You heard aright,' said Berthier. ' There was evident 
 danger in remaining within. The spire might fall at any 
 moment and bury those in the church under its ruins. We 
 saw a girl near us fall, and thinking she had been injured by 
 the lightning, we carried her out and transported her to my 
 house. We did not know where was her home. She is now 
 with my wife, Madame Berthier, who has taken great interest 
 in her.' 
 
 Andre remained standing before him with his eyes on the 
 ground. He knew that Berthier was deceiving him, and the 
 Intendant did not care to do more than give his account of 
 what had really taken place, a superficially plausible colour. 
 
 * I see your wheat is under water,' said the stout gendeman, 
 pointing with his thumb towards the submerged field, and then, 
 drawing his handkerchief from his pocket, he twisted the corner 
 into a litde screw and ran it round the lids of his eyes in 
 succession. 
 
 * Yes, monsieur, all my crop is destroyed.' 
 
 '■ And what have you to subsist upon now } ' 
 
 ' Nothing ! ' 
 
 ' Can you pay the tax ? ' 
 
 ' I do not know.' 
 
 ' Have you any money laid by, to help you out of your
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 9 1 
 
 difi5culties? Of course, in prosperous times, you have put 
 aside a nice sum to fall back upon ? ' 
 
 ' IMonsieur ! how can a peasant lay by ? The revenue 
 absorbs all his profits, and leaves him barely enough for his 
 subsistence. He may live in times of plenty; in times of 
 scarcity he must die.' 
 
 ' Then what do you intend doing ? ' 
 
 Matthias shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 ' All depends on the winter. I have a few potatoes. I must 
 sell this wet corn — it will all be mouldy — for what it will fetch. 
 Ah ! if I could have garnered it three days ago, or even yester- 
 day. I shall starve.' He groaned. 
 
 ' And your daughter will starve with you ! ' 
 
 Andre answered with a scowl. 
 
 ' Do you owe any money ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; I owe Jacob Maitre, the usurer, four hundred crowns.' 
 
 ' You cannot pay him ? ' 
 
 'No. I have been in debt a long while ; he threatens, and 
 I had hoped to pay him off a part this year.' 
 
 * And now he must wait ? ' 
 
 * He will not wait.' 
 ' How so } ' 
 
 ' He will put me in prison.' 
 
 *And whilst you are in prison, what will your daughter 
 do?' .
 
 92 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 
 
 ' God knows ! ' Andre bowed his head lower, and began 
 to mutter to himself. 
 
 ' What are you saying ? ' asked the Intendant. 
 ' Nothing/ answered the peasant, doggedly. 
 
 * But I will hear,' said Berthier. 
 
 ' I said if God would not provide, then the devil must.' 
 
 * Goodman Andre, that is a somewhat shocking sentiment. 
 Besides, it is not altogether true ; there may be a half measure, 
 you know. Now madame, my wife,^a very worthy, pious 
 woman — a little of heaven one way, but a deuced black and 
 ugly one — a little of hell the other way, — she is the person to 
 do it. She has commissioned me to ask you to allow her 
 to retain your child as her servant. That is her message. 
 She wants an active girl to wait upon her, and she has taken 
 a fancy to your daughter. I do not interfere in household 
 matters — understand that — but my good wife, being unable, 
 or disinclined, to come here and see you on the subject, has 
 persuaded me to do her work. I am goodnatured, I am fat; 
 fat people are always goodnatured, so I yield to my wife 
 in everything. I am her slave — her factotum. It is a pity 
 to be goodnatured; one is imposed upon, even by the best 
 of wives.' 
 
 Andre did not speak ; through the corner of his eyes he was 
 contemplating his submerged corn-field. He knew still that 
 Berthier was deceiving him, and he was calculating the chances
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 93 
 
 of the approaching winter. Would his potatoes last, even if 
 Jacob Maitre did not come down upon him ? Would not the 
 usurer seize on everything, — his cow, his horse, his cart, his 
 potatoes, his bed and furniture, his very clothes ? 
 
 Berthier took some money out of his pocket, and made 
 twelve little heaps on the seat beside him. 
 
 ' What do you say to me, in my generosity, giving you six 
 months' wage for your girl in advance ? This is very reckless 
 of me, because I really do not know whether she will suit 
 madame or not. IMadame is capricious, she sometimes sends 
 away a dozen servants in the year. However, as you are in 
 great distress, and I am constitutionally liberal — fat people are 
 always liberal — I say, well, I will risk it. You shall have six 
 months' wage in advance, and the wage is good; it is high, 
 very high. Count.' 
 
 Andre touched one of the little heaps with his finger, and 
 upset the silver pieces, that he might reckon their number; 
 then he counted the heaps, and multiplied the sum in one by 
 six ; then he doubled that. 
 
 He would not speak yet. 
 
 Berthier substituted gold for some of the silver. Rarely had 
 gold passed through the peasant's fingers. He took the piece 
 up in his trembling palm, turned it over, and looked at it 
 fixedly. His hand shook as with the palsy, and the gold piece 
 fell from it into the mud. Andre's brow became beaded with
 
 94 /^V EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 perspiration. He stooped, and picking it up hastily, went to 
 a pitcher and washed it reverently, and then replaced it on the 
 bench. 
 
 ' Well, man ! ' said the Intendant, taking his pocket-handker- 
 chief and spreading it on his knee. It was stained. 
 
 IMatthias moodily entered the stable, produced a pick, and 
 walked into his potato-croft. Berthier stared after him, uncer- 
 tain whether by this action he designed in his boorish manner 
 to express his determination to break off the transaction. 
 Matthias began to dig up a row of potatoes, and Berthier 
 saw him take up the roots, and count the tubers on each, and 
 measure them with his eye. 
 
 Presently he returned with a lap-full ; these he measured in 
 a bushel, and made a rough calculation of the number he 
 should gather from his litde croft. 
 
 The gloom on his face became deeper. Then he went into 
 the cow-house and remained there a few minutes. After that 
 he entered the litde orchard of some dozen trees, and estimated 
 the yield of apples ; then he returned to the house, opened 
 the clothes-chest, and threw all the articles of wearing apparel 
 on the table and bench, and made a mental valuation of them. 
 There were some silver ornaments, — round perforated buttons 
 and a brooch that Gabrielle wore on great fetes ; an heirloom. 
 The peasant was unable to estimate their value, so he brought 
 them out to the Intendant, and said, sulkily :
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 95 
 
 ' What are these worth ? ' 
 
 Berthier weighed them in his hand, laughed, and said : 
 
 ' The value of the silver is trifling— five or eight francs, at the 
 outside.' 
 
 The wretched father carried them back into the house. 
 
 Presently he came out in a vacillating, uneasy way — his 
 mind hardly made up. 
 
 ' You promise me that it is only madame who will have any- 
 thing to do with my Gabrielle t ' he said. 
 
 ' I promise you that ! of course I will. She will be with 
 madame night and day; will scarcely be out of her sight. 
 Will that content you ? ' 
 
 Andre still mused, and refrained from giving a decided 
 answer. 
 
 Just then he caught sight of the money-lender, Jacob Maitre, 
 a short-built, red-whiskered and bearded man, with thick over- 
 hanging red brows, standing on the dyke, contemplating the 
 havoc made in Andre's field by the flood. 
 
 That sight determined him. He bent, gathered up six of 
 the heaps of silver between his palms, rushed with it into his 
 cottage, and bolted the door.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Aftee Berthier had seen Gabrielle safely locked up in one 
 of the towers that formed the extremities of his house, at 
 Foulon's advice he had visited the Isle des Hirondelles. 
 
 IMadame Berthier had returned from the church, and was 
 in her own chamber, at the farther end of the house. 
 
 This unhappy woman was Foulon's daughter; towards her 
 he had never shown the least paternal love. Possibly it was 
 not in his nature to exhibit love. She had never been beau- 
 tiful, having inherited her father's hatchet-face ; in addition to 
 her plainness was her colour ; her complexion was of an ashen 
 blue-grey, the result of having taken much nitrate of silver 
 medicinally. Her plainness and her complexion being neither 
 of them attractive, Berthier made no pretence of loving her, 
 and Foulon did not exact it of him. Berthier, the Intendant, 
 or Sheriff of Paris, a man of humble extraction, being de- 
 scended from a race of provincial attorneys, had worked his 
 way into prominence and power by his shrewdness and un- 
 scrupulousness. He had married Foulon's daughter for the
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 97 
 
 sake of some money she inherited from her mother, but chiefly 
 in hopes of one day possessing his father-in-law's large 
 fortune. 
 
 Foulon had begun his career as an intendant of the army, 
 and had amassed immense wealth by victualling badly and 
 charging high. The soldiers fasted or fed on garbage, that 
 Foulon might fatten. He was both a contractor for the army, 
 and one of the commission appointed to watch and check the 
 contractors. 
 
 Madame Berthier was naturally a woman of a warm and 
 affectionate disposition; but meeting with no response from 
 her husband or her father, and, through repeated humiliations 
 to which she was subjected by her profligate husband, all that 
 warmth had accumulated into a fire which burned in her 
 bosom, consuming her, disturbing her intellect, and wrecking 
 her constitution. 
 
 She was a tall thin woman, dressed wholly in black. Her 
 hair was grey, a silvery grey, contrasting painfully with the 
 blue-grey of her face. Her large hazel eyes were clear and 
 bright, but their brilliance was unnatural, and impressed a 
 stranger with a conviction that they betokened a mental con- 
 dition on the borders of insanity. 
 
 Her sitting-room was quite square, with a window to the 
 east, another to the west, and a third to the south. It was 
 painted yellow throughout ; the curtains were of orange 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 
 
 damask, and a patch of yellow rug occupied the centre of 
 the poHshed floor. 
 
 In the midst of this chamber sat Madame Berthier, making 
 cat's cradles, her favourite amusement, and one with which 
 she would occupy herself during long hours of loneliness. 
 By constant practice she was able to accomplish all the usual 
 changes with the threads very rapidly, and she was frequently 
 puzzling out new arrangements with an interest and application 
 completely engrossing. 
 
 On her shoulders couched a Persian cat, of great size, with 
 long hair. It had been white originally, but Madame Berthier 
 had dyed it saffron ; the saffron stains were on her grey hands, 
 as she wrought with her threads. The appearance of the cat 
 was unpleasant, for being by nature an Albino, its eyes were 
 pink, and they seemed unnaturally faint, when contrasted with 
 the vivid colouring of its coat. The cat sat very composedly 
 on her shoulder, with its round yellow face against hers, and 
 its paws dangling on her bosom. 
 
 ' Be patient, Gabriel,' said she to the cat, who moved un- 
 easily on her shoulder, as his quick ear caught the sound 
 of steps in the corridor. ' We must all acquire patience ; 
 it is a heavenly virtue, but it is, oh ! so hard to obtain.' 
 
 Berthier tapped at the door, opened it, and introduced him- 
 self and Gabrielle. 
 
 The cat rose, balancing itself nicely where it had been
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 99 
 
 reposing, set up its back and tail, stretched itself, and then 
 re-settled. 
 
 * Well now, madame,' said Monsieur Berthier ; ' making 
 cradles still, I see.' 
 
 The lady worked vigorously with her threads, and did not 
 look up or answer her husband. 
 
 ' Look this way, Madame Plomb.' 
 
 She threw up her head, bit her lower lip, and stamped her 
 foot impatiently. As her eye lit on Gabrielle it remained 
 fixed, and her complexion became more deadly. 
 
 ' I have brought a new servant to attend on you/ conti- 
 nued Berthier. ' Are you Hstening to me, Madame Plomb .? ' 
 
 Again she stamped, but she would not speak. 
 
 ' You will take great care of her, my Angel ! and you will 
 pay especial regard to her morals, mind that, my Beauty ! I 
 have promised her father that she shall be under your charge, 
 and that you shall take care that she be virtuous and 
 pious.' 
 
 Madame Berthier would neither look at him, nor speak 
 to him. He knew that she struggled daily with herself to 
 maintain composure, and to restrain her tongue, in his 
 presence, and he amused himself inventing a thousand means 
 of insulting and irritating her, till he had wrought her into 
 frenzy. 
 
 * I am sure you will like this new addition to your little 
 
 H 2
 
 lOO IN EX ITU ISRAEL 
 
 Staff,' continued the Intendant, placing his large hands on 
 Gabrielle's shoulders, and thrusting her forward. 
 
 The girl cowered under his touch, and an expression of 
 horror and loathing passed across her face. Madame Berthier, 
 whose eyes were fastened on her, saw this and laughed 
 aloud. 
 
 ' What ! not a word for your Zoozoo ! Cruel madame, not 
 to look at, or speak to, your own devoted husband.' 
 
 No ; not a look or a word. The poor wife sought to ignore 
 him. She began diligently to weave her cat's cradles, though 
 her eyes still rested on Gabrielle. Maybe she trembled a little, 
 for the yellow cat mewed fretfully, and shifted its position 
 slightly, then rubbed its head against her blue cheek, as if 
 beseeching not to be disturbed. 
 
 ' This little mignonne is a gem — a beauty of the first water. 
 You must be very careful of her ; such pretty little faces would 
 bewitch half mankind. Look, madame ! what a ripe luscious 
 tint, what a rich and glowing complexion, like a peach, is it 
 not.? It is flesh — actually warm, soft, rosy flesh; it is not 
 lead! 
 
 IMadame Berthier uttered a cry at this coarse insult, and 
 covered her face with her hands. 
 
 'You should wear gloves, Madame Plomb,' continued her 
 husband, ' and then you might cover your face with some 
 prospect of concealing your complexion. But what do I see }
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL lOi 
 
 You have been dyeing your hands with saffron. Actually trying 
 to gild lead.' 
 
 The wretched woman threw down her cat, sprang to her feet 
 and fled out of the room, down the corridor which extended 
 the length of the house, from one tower to the other. She 
 was caught almost instantly in her father's arms. 
 
 'How now!' exclaimed the old man. 'How is this, my 
 little Imogene ? In a pet ! one of your little naughty tan- 
 trums ! Naughty Imogene ! ' 
 
 'I\Iy father!' cried the unhappy woman, 'why did you marry 
 me to that man ?' 
 
 'Tut, tut,' said ]M. Foulon, disengaging himself from her. 
 ' You ask me that so often, that I am obliged to formularize 
 my answers and your questions into a sort of catechism. 
 How does it begin } Ah ! Where were you married ? Ansiver : 
 At S. Sulpice. Who by 1 Answer : By Father Mafitte. What 
 were you asked } Answer : Wilt thou have this man to thy 
 wedded husband.^ Ajiswer : I will. Now, then, whose doing 
 was it that you were married to IMonsieur Berthier .•* Why, your 
 own, child ! ' 
 
 ' Father, take me away.' 
 
 ' Imogene, what nonsense ! ^lay I offer you my arm to 
 conduct you back to your yellow chamber.^' 
 
 ' Father,' she wrung her hands, ' he insults me.' 
 
 'He has his little jokes about your complexion, eh.' Bah !
 
 102 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 you should not be such a baby as to mind his playful banter. 
 He is a boy, gay at heart, and very facetious.' 
 
 * It is not that/ moaned the wretched woman ; ' he brings 
 
 young girls here, — and I his wife have to receive them, and 
 
 Oh, father ! take me away, or I shall go raging mad ! ' 
 
 ' Bah ! young men will be young men — not that Berthier is 
 such a youth, either ! You must not exact too much. Look 
 at your face in the glass, and then say, — can he find much 
 satisfaction therein ? Is it not natural that the butterfly should 
 seek brighter and fairer flowers ? ' 
 ' You have no heart.' 
 
 ' Imogene, I never pretended to possess those gushing senti- 
 ments which make fools of men and women. I am a man of 
 reason, not sentiment. I have no passions. You never saw me 
 • angry, jealous, loving, — never ! I think, I reason, I calculate, I 
 do not feel and sympathize ; I am all intelligence, not emotion. 
 Bah ! Take things coolly. Say to yourself. What is reason- 
 able? Is it reasonable that Berthier should profess ardent 
 passion for me, who am plain and blue t No, it is pre- 
 posterous; therefore I acquiesce in what is natural.' 
 ' You take his part against me.' 
 
 ' I take the part of common sense, Imogene. I cannot say 
 to Berthier, be a hypocrite, go against nature. I always accept 
 human nature as I find it, and I never attempt to force the 
 stream into a channel too strait for it.'
 
 IN- EX ITU ISRAEL 103 
 
 Madame Berthier stood looking from side to side distractedly. 
 'I find no help anywhere !' she moaned. 
 
 '■ Imogene, you have plenty to eat, good wine to drink, first- 
 rate cookery; you employ an accomplished milliner; your 
 rooms are handsomely furnished; you can drive out when 
 it pleases you. What more can you want.?' 
 
 ' Love,' answered the poor woman. ' I am always hungry. 
 I am always in pain here,' she pointed to her breast ; ' I want, 
 I want, I want, and I never get what I desire/ Then uttering 
 another cry, like that which had escaped her when her husband 
 insulted her, and running along the corridor from side to side, 
 like a bird striving to escape, she beat the walls on this side, then 
 on that, with her hands, uttering at intervals her piercing wail. 
 
 Berthier came into the corridor and joined his father-in-law. 
 ' There is nothing more offensive to persons of sentiment than 
 fact,' said Foulon, brushing the tobacco from his nose and 
 cheeks. 'Before fact down go Religion, Poetry, Ethics, Art. 
 People live in a dream-world, which they people with phantoms. 
 Show them that all is a delusion, and they are wretched — they 
 love to be deceived. Bah ! I hate sentiment. It is on senti- 
 ment that Religion and iMorality are based. What is sentiment ? 
 On my honour, I cannot tell' 
 
 On reaching the end of the corridor, INIadame Berthier stood 
 still, and turning towards her husband and father, she raised 
 her hands, and cried, as she did in church :
 
 104 ^^^ EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 ' Avenge me on my adversaries ! ' ' 
 
 Then, becoming calmer, she called : 
 
 ' Gabriel ! ' For the cat was standing at her door, and 
 was mewing. The strangely- dyed beast, hearing her call, darted 
 past the two men, and seating itself before her, looked up into 
 her face. 
 
 'My faithful Gabriel!' she said. Then with a single 
 bound it reached her shoulder, and placing its fore paws 
 together balanced itself, whilst she walked slowly up the 
 passage. The appearance of the woman in the dusk, in her 
 long black gown and shawl, with her frightful head on one 
 side to give room for the cat to stand comfortably, was wild 
 and ghostly. 
 
 She approached her husband and her father slowly. As she 
 passed them, she turned her face towards Foulon, and said: 
 ' I have looked to you for help,' she touched him with her 
 stained finger. ' I have looked to you for help,' she touched 
 Berthier on the breast, turning to him ; ' I find none.' Throw- 
 ing her hand up and pointing out of the window towards 
 the evening star, that glittered above the horizon, — ' Queen of 
 heaven, I have looked to you ! And,' she continued in a low 
 voice, hoarse with suppressed emotion, ' if she gives me none, 
 I shall seek help in myself.' 
 
 * That is sensible, Imogene,' said Foulon ; ' one should find 
 resources in one's self.'
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 105 
 
 ' Mind/ she said, sharply ; ' I ask for love. If I do not get 
 it, I take revenge.' Then she swept into her room, and 
 shut the door. 
 
 Gabrielle was there in her white dress and veil, scarcely 
 less pale than her garments. The roses in her wreath 
 exhaled a strong odour as they faded. She stood where 
 she had been placed by Berthier, nearly in the middle of 
 the room. The evening was rapidly closing in. The sun 
 had set, but through the west window the light from the 
 horizon glimmered. 
 
 ]Madame Berthier threw herself into a seat and looked 
 at Gabrielle. 
 
 'Are you a bride .^' she asked, in a harsh voice. 
 
 'No, madame,' answered the girl, trembling. 
 
 'Ah! no. You were one of those in procession to-day.' 
 
 'Yes, madame.' 
 
 'How came you here?' 
 
 'jMadame, I think I fainted at the thunderclap, and I 
 remember no more, till I was brought through the yard 
 into this house.' 
 
 ' Have you been here before V 
 
 'Madame, I have been to the Chateau sometimes with 
 my roses.' 
 
 'What roses?' 
 
 ' The bunches that I sell.'
 
 io6 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 ' Then you are the flower-girl, are you, whom I have seen 
 at the gate sometimes?' 
 
 ' Yes, madame.' 
 
 ' Why have you been brought here, do you know ? ' 
 
 Gabrielle burst into tears, threw herself on her knees; and 
 stretching out her hands towards the lady entreated : — 
 ' Oh madame, dear, good madame ! send me home, pray 
 let me out of this dreadful house. Madame, I want to go 
 home to my father; pray, good madame, for the love of Our 
 Lady!' 
 
 'Child,' said Berthier's wife, 'are you not here by free 
 choice?' 
 
 ' Oh no, no ! ' cried Gabrielle. * Only let me go, that I 
 may run home.' 
 
 'Where do you live?' 
 
 'At Les Hirondelles.' 
 
 *What is your name?' 
 
 ' Gabrielle Andre.' 
 
 'Gabrielle?' 
 
 'Yes, madame.' 
 
 The strange woman uttered a scream of joy; caught her 
 cat in her hands, and held it up before the girl. 
 
 ' See, see ! ' she said ; ' this is Gabriel, my own precious 
 Gabriel ! ' 
 
 She softened towards the poor child at once.
 
 IN- EX ITU ISRAEL 107 
 
 ' Come nearer,' she said. ' What have you let fall ? Ah ! 
 your taper. They brought that with you, did they ? ' 
 
 * Madame, I think I had it fast in my hand.' 
 
 'Wait,' said the lady. She struck a light, and kindled the 
 taper, which Gabrielle had raised from the floor. 
 
 ' Just so,' continued she ; ' hold the light before you, and 
 remain kneeling, that I may see your face ; but do not kneel 
 to me ; see ! turn yonder, towards the western sky, and the 
 dying light, and the evening star.' 
 
 Gabrielle slightly shifted her position, too frightened to do 
 anything except obey mechanically. 
 
 ' You are very pretty,' said jMadame Berthier. ' How very 
 beautiful you are ! Do you know that t ' 
 
 ' Madame ! ' Gabrielle was too much alarmed to colour. 
 
 ' Now, tell me, do you know M. Berthier ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, madame ! ' the girl said, with a sob, as her tears began 
 to flow ; ' I dread him most of all. He frightens me. He is 
 wicked; he pursues me with his eyes. Father had just pro- 
 mised that I should never come to this house again, because, 
 because ' she was interrupted by her tears. 
 
 ' Go on, Gabrielle.' 
 
 ' Because he ran after me in the forest, and the cure saved 
 me from him, just as he caught me up.' 
 
 ' You do not Uke Berthier ; I saw it in your face.' 
 
 ' Oh, madame ! how could W
 
 lo8 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 The lady laughed a little, chuckling to herself. Presently 
 she addressed Gabrielle again. 
 
 ' Do you know me .? ' 
 
 ' No, madame.' 
 
 ' Do you know my name 1 ' 
 
 'You are called Madame Plamb,' said Gabrielle, hesitatingly. 
 
 The woman stamped passionately on the floor, and jerked 
 the yellow cat off her shoulder. 
 
 *' Who told you that .? Why do you call me that ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, madame ! I am so sorry, but I heard Monsieur Ber- 
 thier address you by that name. I meant no offence.' 
 
 'Listen to me, child.' The lady drew her chair towards 
 Gabrielle. ' Give me your light.' She snatched the taper from 
 her trembling hand, and waved it before her face. ' Look on 
 me,' she said ; ' yes, look, look. Now you know why they call 
 me the Leaden ! ' She blew out the candle, and continued : 
 ' It is only those who hate me who call me by that name ; only 
 those, remember, whom I hate. Beware how you call me 
 that again.' 
 
 She leaned back, and remained silent for some minutes. 
 Gabrielle' s tears flowed fast, and she sobbed heavily. She 
 was not only frightened, but weary and faint, and sick at 
 heart. 
 
 ' Shall I protect you .? " asked the lady, at length. 
 
 * Madame 1 I pray you,' pleaded Gabrielle, through her tears.
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 1 09 
 
 ' Then I will. He shall not touch you. You shall sleep 
 in my little ante-room.' 
 
 * May I not go home .? ' 
 
 ' Alas ! poor child, how can you '^ The gates and doors are 
 locked. The walls are high ; and if you scaled the walls, 
 the bloodhounds would be after you. Perhaps you may go 
 home soon, but not now ; you cannot now ! ' 
 
 After another pause, she said : 
 
 ' Gabrielle, stand up.' 
 
 The girl instantly rose. 
 
 ' Gabriel, Gabrielle, my cat and you ! I love my cat, why 
 not you ? Will you kiss me .? ' 
 
 Passionately she caught the girl to her bosom, and kissed 
 her brow and lips and cheek. Then laughing, she said : 
 
 ' Yes ! Gabrielle, you must be here awhile, and you shall 
 hold the threads, and help to make cat's cradles.' 
 
 --<J^-4>-'
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The moon, in her first quarter, hung in a cloudless sky over 
 the valley of the Charentonne, reflected from every patch and 
 pool of water. The poplars, like frosted silver, cast black 
 shadows over the white ground. The frogs were clamorous, 
 for their domain had been unexpectedly extended. 
 
 Thomas Lindet, in his attic, was putting together a few 
 clothes into a bundle, to take with him to Evreux, as he was 
 about to start next morning, after the first mass at six. He 
 occupied two rooms in a small cottage opposite the church. 
 It was an old house, in plaster and timber, with a thatched 
 roof, and consisted of a ground-floor and an upper storey. 
 The ground-floor was occupied by an old woman, and the 
 priest tenanted the rooms above. His sitting-room, in which 
 he was making up his bundle, was clean ; the walls were laden 
 with whitewash, as was also the sloping ceiling. The window 
 was covered with a blue-and-white striped curtain of bed- 
 ticking; the chairs were of wood, unpolished, with wooden 
 seats. Over the chimney-piece were a crucifix and two little 
 prints, one of Jean Jacques Rousseau, the other of S. Jerome.
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 1 1 1 
 
 His small library occupied a few deal shelves on one side of the 
 fireplace. Besides his breviary, there were few books in binding, 
 except an old copy of Atto of Vercellae on the ' SuiTerings 
 and Persecutions of the Church/ and a Geoffrey of Vendome 
 on ' Investitures.' But there were many pamphlets and pole- 
 mical tracts, such as were circulated at that time in France, 
 and in paper covers, torn and dirty, were IMontesquieu's 
 ' Esprit des Lois,' and Rousseau's ' Emile.' 
 
 Having completed his preparations, the priest blew out his 
 candle, drew the curtain, and looked out of his window, pierced 
 through the thatch. The church of S. Cross was exactly op- 
 posite, on the other side of the small square, and the moon 
 brought its sculpture into relief The gothic tower, sur- 
 mounted by an ugly bulbous cap, cut the clear grey sky; the 
 delicate tracery of the windows stood out like white lace 
 against the gloom of the bell-chamber. 
 
 The west front had been remodelled in 1724, and, though 
 Lindet, with the taste of the period, admired it, no one at the 
 present day would approve of the stiff Italian pedimented 
 doorway, with its four pillars incrusted in the wall, or of the 
 niche in the same style, containing the effigy of the Empress 
 Helena bearing the cross, which intrudes upon the elegant 
 gothic west window. 
 
 After the excitement of the day, a reaction had set in, and 
 Lindet felt dispirited, and disposed to question the judicious-
 
 1 1 2 nV EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 ness of his purpose. He leaned on the window-sill listening 
 to the trill of the frogs, sweetened by distance, and to the 
 throbbing of the clock in the tower. From where he stood, 
 he could see the rosy glimmer of the sanctuary lamp, through 
 the west window of the church. At this window, looking 
 towards the light which burned before the Host, he was wont 
 every evening to say his prayers, before retiring to rest. 
 
 He put his delicate hands together. The mechanism of 
 the clock whirred, and then midnight struck. The notes 
 boomed over the sleeping town, and lost themselves among 
 the wooded hills. All at once Lindet's mind turned to the 
 poor child for whose preservation he had laboured ineffectually 
 that day. Then, fervently, he prayed for her. 
 
 She was seated at the window in Madame Plomb's ante- 
 chamber, fast asleep, with her head on her hands. The 
 window was wide open, and the shutters were back, so that 
 the moon and air entered, and made the chamber light and 
 balmy. 
 
 About nine o'clock, the cook had been to madame's room 
 to tell Gabrielle that she was to sleep with her at the other end 
 of the house ; but INIadame Berthier, full of violence, had struck 
 and driven the woman out of the room, and she had retired, 
 very angry, and threatening to tell ' IMonsieur.' The woman 
 had been as good as her word ; but Berthier and Foulon being 
 together in the billiard-room playing, she had not ventured
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 1 1 3 
 
 to interrupt them till they left, which was at midnight. The 
 cook was very angry, and, like an insulted servant, threatened 
 to leave the house. 
 
 ' Ah ! so so ! ' exclaimed Berthier. ' We shall see. You 
 were right to obey my orders. Gustave ! come here ; follow 
 me, Antoinette ; the girl shall be removed immediately, awake 
 or asleep, by gentleness or by force.' 
 
 The silver light struck across the face of the sleeping girl, 
 still wet with tears, and streaked the floor. An acacia inter- 
 cepted some, of the light, and as a light wind stirred, it pro- 
 duced an uneasy shiver over the floor. A leaf, caught in a 
 cobweb, pattered timidly against one of the window-panes. 
 A ghost-moth fluttered about the room, its white wings gleam- 
 ing in the moonlight, as it swerved and wheeled, while its 
 shadow swerved and wheeled in rhythm, on the sheet of 
 Gabrielle's couch, as though there were two moths, one white, 
 the other black, dancing up and down before one another. 
 The shadows of the acacia foliage made faces on the floor. 
 Dark profiles, hatchet-shaped, with glistening eyes and mouths 
 that opened and shut, faces of old women munching silently, 
 silhouettes of demons butting with their horns, or nodding, as 
 though they would say, — Wait, wait, wait ! We shall see ! 
 
 The white veil of the sleeping girl lay on the floor, in a line. 
 The flickering lights crossed it, and the shadows of the leaves 
 resembled black flat insects, and long slugs, scrambhng over 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 I^ EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 it, in a mad race. The foliage of the acacia whispered, and 
 the pines of the forest close by hummed as the wind stirred 
 their myriad vibrating spines. The air laden with the fragrance 
 of the resin, was not balmy only, but warm as well. An owl 
 in the woods called at intervals to-whoo ! and waited, expecting 
 an answer, then called again. Then the night-hawk screeched, 
 and fluttered among the trees. In the garden-plots whole 
 colonies of crickets chirped a long quivering song in a thou- 
 sand parts, perfectly harmonized, all night long, with a rapidity 
 of execution perfectly amazing. 
 
 From Bernay sounded distant, yet distinct, the chime of 
 midnight. At the same moment the hounds in the yard be- 
 came restless, and gave tongue spasmodically. The girl sighed 
 in sleep, and turned her head from the light; then she woke, 
 started up, and uttered a scream. The door of the room was 
 open, and Berthier stood in it, looking at her, with the cook 
 and Gustave in the background. At the same moment, 
 a black figure glided from behind the window-curtains, and 
 stood between him and her. 
 
 * Sacrd ! Madame Plomb, you are up late,' observed the 
 Intendant, advancing into the chamber, and shutting the door 
 behind him upon the two servants. ' May I trouble you, 
 Madame Plomb, to retire to your couch t ' He stepped 
 towards her.
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 1 15 
 
 The woman drew herself up, raised her arm, and the 
 moon flashed along a slender steel blade she brandished. 
 
 * Nonsense, my charmer ! ' said Berthier ; ' no acting with 
 me. Put down that Httle toy and begone.' 
 
 ' Stop ! ' she exclaimed. ' Do you see that veil there ; there, 
 beast, there on the floor .? ' 
 ' Perfectly well, my angel.' 
 
 * Pass over it, if you dare.' 
 
 ' I dare ! ' he said scornfully, but without advancing. 
 
 * If your foot transgresses that Hmit, I swear, beast ! it will 
 be your death.' 
 
 He looked at her; the moon was on her blue-grey face, 
 and she looked at him. Her countenance was terrible : in 
 that light, it was like the face of a fiend. 
 
 ' You are a devil,' he said. 
 
 * You have made me one,' she answered. 
 
 Deadly hatred glared out of her wild black eyes ; there was 
 resolution in the set lips and hard brow, and Berthier felt that 
 what his wife threatened, that she would execute. He could 
 not endure the flash and glitter of her eye-balls, and he 
 lowered his. 
 
 ' I hate you,' she muttered ; ' I hate you, beast ! Do you 
 think I should shrink from your blood t Is your blood so dear 
 to me ? Should I shrink from your corpse— from your dead 
 face ? I have only seen the living one, and that is to me 
 
 I 2
 
 1 16 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 SO odious, that I long to see the dead one; it is sure to be 
 more pleasant. Those red inflamed eyes of yours, are they 
 so bewitching that I should not wish to close them for ever? 
 Those lips, which I have never kissed, beast ! I promise to 
 kiss them one day. I promise it, remember. They shall be 
 stiff and cold then. That shall be my one and only kiss.' 
 
 The hounds barked furiously without, so furiously that they 
 disturbed the house. Adolphe opened his window and 
 called : ' Be quiet, my children ; be good boys, there ! Pigeon 
 and Poulet!' 
 
 Gustave roared from the window of the corridor : ' A thou- 
 sand devils ! shall I not murder you to-morrow, if you are 
 not quiet this instant } ' 
 
 The acacia creaked and crackled. 
 
 Berthier moved towards the window, he was determined to 
 disarm his wife, if possible. 
 
 'Where are you going.?' she asked, sharply. 
 
 ' I am going to look out, and see why the dogs are so 
 furious.' 
 
 'You cannot see into the yard from this window.' 
 
 ' No, but I can see if anyone is without.' Next moment — 
 ' Imogene ! I believe that there must be some one.' 
 
 She lowered her knife, with the fickleness of her disorder; 
 the idea distracted her attention. 
 
 ' Where .? '
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 1 1 
 
 ' Come and look.' 
 
 She stepped towards the window. Instantly, quick as 
 thought, he struck her wrist, and sent the knife flying from 
 her grasp, across the room. 
 
 Gabrielle in an agony of terror cried, ' ]My father ! Oh, my 
 father ! ' 
 
 Madame Berthier uttered a moan of pain and rage. Her hus- 
 band would have grappled with her at once, but that something 
 whizzed in at the open window, and struck him in the eye 
 with such force that he staggered backward, and the blood 
 burst from the lid and streamed over his cheek. 
 
 INIadame Berthier recovered her knife, and threatening him 
 with it, drove him, blinded with pain and blood, out of 
 the room. 
 
 Who can describe the horror of conscience to which 
 Matthias Andre was a prey that night.? He remained after 
 the departure of Berthier, for some hours half stupefied, 
 looking at the money which he held in his hand; then 
 he tied it up in a piece of rag, and placed it in his bosom ; 
 but it was too heavy there, it seemed to weigh him down, 
 so he fastened it to the belt of his blouse, which he now 
 put on. To distract his mind, he began to replace in the 
 boxes the clothes he had drawn from them, but, as he huddled 
 them in, unfolded, they would not all go in. In the dusk, the 
 garments which were not thus disposed of looked like bodies
 
 1 1 8 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 of human beings waiting to be buried. He threw out all the 
 clothes from the trunks again, and began to fold them, but 
 he did this work clumsily, and there remained still one of 
 Gabrielle's dresses uncoffered. The sight of this distressed 
 him, it reminded him of his daughter too painfully, so he 
 hid it under the table. Then he could not resist the desire 
 to peer at it where it lay, and the fancy came upon him that 
 she lay there dead, and that he had killed her; so he fled 
 up the ladder into his loft, and cast himself upon his bed. 
 
 But there was no rest there. The transactions of that 
 evening haunted him. He tried to calculate what had best 
 be done with the money ; but no ! all he could think of 
 was that this was the price of his child's honour and 
 happiness. 
 
 Remembering that he had not taken any supper, he 
 descended the ladder and sought in the dark for a potato 
 pasty; but when he had found it he could not eat it, for he 
 considered that it had been made by her fingers. He tried 
 to uncork a bottle of wine, but could not find the screw, so 
 he broke the neck, and drank from it thus ; the broken glass 
 cut his lips, for his hand shook. Gabrielle's old gown under 
 the table he could not see, it was too dark, but he was 
 constrained by a frenzied curiosity to creep towards it, and 
 feel if it were there. Yes; he felt it, and he shrank from 
 the touch.
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 1 1 9 
 
 The moon shone in at his bed-room window. The Hght 
 distressed him, when he returned to his couch; so he tried 
 to block up the window by erecting his coat against it, 
 supported by a pitchfork and a broom. It remained thus 
 for just five minutes, and then the structure gave way, and 
 the moonlight flowed in again. 
 
 Andre could bear the house no longer. He again descended 
 the ladder, stole past the table, and opening his door, went 
 outside. He took -the path across the foot-bridge and entered 
 the forest. He resolved to ascend the hill, and see the 
 outside of the chateau in which lay his child. The way was 
 dark, the shadows of the pines and beech-trees obscured it, 
 but the wretched man knew it well, and he walked along 
 it, trembling with fear. He heard voices in the forest, he 
 saw faces peeping from behind the tree-boles. The rusde 
 of birds in the pine-tops made him start; but he held on 
 his way. 
 
 When he reached the castle ^lalouve, he stood still. His 
 brow was dripping. The clock of Bernay parish church 
 struck twelve. At the same time the dogs scented him, and 
 began to bark. 
 
 The unhappy father prowled round the building, looking up 
 at every window, his every limb shaking with apprehension. 
 
 Suddenly, from an open casement he heard a cry. He 
 knew the tone of that voice. The cry pierced his heart.
 
 120 nV EX ITU ISRAEL, 
 
 He ran to the foot of the building which rose from the sward 
 at this spot, and looked up at the window. An acacia-tree 
 stood at a little distance from the wall, and he proceeded to 
 scramble up it. The trunk was smooth, and presented no 
 foot-hold. He was a clumsy man, and could not mount well ; 
 the branches were britde and broke with him. He heard 
 voices in the chamber whence his daughter's cry had reached 
 him, he grappled with the tree and worked himself up a little 
 way with his knees. The leaves shook above him as though 
 the acacia responded to every pulsation of his heart. 
 
 'Father! Oh, my father!' 
 
 That call to him — it seemed denunciatory, reproachful — 
 burst upon his ear. He tore the money from his belt, and 
 with all his force, he hurled it through the window; then 
 he slid down the tree and fled. 
 
 He fled, but the cry pursued him; it echoed from every 
 wall of the chateau. He heard it in the bay of the blood- 
 hounds ; it came to him from the dark aisles of the forest, 
 the wind swept it after him; the owl caught it up and 
 towhoo'd it, the night-hawk screamed it. 
 
 He put his hands to his ears to shut it out. But the cry 
 was within him, and it echoed through and through and 
 through him — 
 
 'Father! Oh, my father!' 
 
 The cry of a child betrayed by its own parent, — the cry
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 1 2 1 
 
 of a slave sold by its own father, — the cry of a soul given 
 
 up to devils by him who had given it being, — the cry of a 
 
 loving heart against him it had loved, against him for whom 
 
 the hands had worked gladly, the feet tripped nimbly, the 
 
 lips smiled sweetly, and the eyes twinkled blithely — 
 
 -J 
 ' Father ! Oh, my father ! ' 
 
 As he sprang over the stile, as he raced to the foot-bridge, 
 as he traversed it, from the white face that glared up at him 
 from the water, from the rusding reeds, from the soughing 
 willows, from his own white and black home as he reached it — 
 
 ' Father ! Oh, my father ! ' 
 
 In his horror and despair he threw himself in at the door, 
 and ran towards the ladder. He scrambled up it; and 
 drawing it up after him fastened a rope that lay coiled 
 on his floor to it, and he noosed the other end about his 
 neck, and he crawled to the hole in the floor through which 
 he had mounted and drawn the ladder, and the cry came 
 up to him from below. 
 
 He leaped towards it, and so sought to silence it.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 All Evreux was out of doors, as Thomas Lindet, travel- 
 soiled and weary, entered the city. The double avenue of 
 chestnuts before the church and seminary of S. Taurin was 
 thronged with people, and a large triumphal arch spanned 
 the road just beyond the square, the sides adorned with 
 pilasters of gilt paper and banks of flowers, and the summit 
 crowned with a banner emblazoned with the lilies of France. 
 In the tympanum of the arch was a niche Hned with crimson 
 cloth destined to contain a statue of S. Louis, lent for the 
 occasion by the superior of the seminary. The raising of 
 the pious king to his destined position was an operation which 
 engaged all eyes, and provided conversation for all tongues. 
 
 It is wonderful how much noise and commotion attends 
 the execution of a very simple performance in France. Every 
 spectator is by the fact of his presence constituted an adviser, 
 and those engaged on the work which attracts observation 
 harangue and expostulate and protest at the top of their 
 voices. 
 
 Those whose task it was to translate S. Louis from the
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL T23 
 
 ground to his elevated pedestal, proceeded with their duty 
 in a somewhat clumsy and unworkmanlike manner. A pulley 
 had been erected at the apex of the gable above the arch, 
 and a cord ran over it into the midst of the crowd which 
 pulled promiscuously and with varying force at the rope. 
 The other end of the rope was attached to the neck of the 
 monarch, and as he was raised he dangled in the centre of 
 the archway, much more like a felon undergoing the extreme 
 penalty of the law, than a canonized saint. In the mean- 
 while, two vociferous men in blue blouses and trowsers, half 
 way up two ladders, were supposed to steady the king, but 
 on account of the jerky manner in which the crowd hauled 
 at the rope, they were unable to achieve their object, and 
 they vented their displeasure in oaths. All at once there 
 was a crash. The head had separated from the body — the 
 statue was in plaster ; and first down fell the trunk and then 
 the crowned head. The catastrophe caused a sudden silence 
 to fall on the multitude, but it was soon broken by execrations 
 and invocations of ' mille diables.' Then a general rush was 
 made to inspect the remains of the decapitated king. 
 
 'There was absolutely no piece of wood or wire to keep 
 head and trunk together!' exclaimed one of the workmen, 
 elevating the fragment of head. ' Of course it broke off. 
 Who ever heard of a plaster cast without a nucleus of solid 
 wood or iron in the middle ! '
 
 124 J-^^ EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 ' Out of the way ! make room/ shouted a coachman, 
 cracking his whip; and the crowd started aside to allow a 
 handsome lumbering coach to roll by, and pass under the 
 triumphal arch. Two heads were protruded from the windows, 
 to see what caused the commotion and throng; and Lindet, 
 happening to look in that direction, saw the faces of Foulon 
 and Berthier. 
 
 ' Why are all these preparations being made ? ' asked 
 Lindet of a shopman near him. 
 
 ' Ah ! ' exclaimed the man ; ' don't you know that IMonsieur 
 the Prince is coming.^' 
 
 Lindet pushed up the street, passed the Palais de Justice, 
 a handsome, massive Italian building, and walked straight to 
 the bishop's palace. Having reached Evreux, he would do 
 his business and leave it. 
 
 The gate to the palace was decorated with evergreens and 
 banners, the arms above the archway had been re-gilt and 
 re-coloured ; S. Sebastian was very pink, exuded very red 
 blood from his wounds, and the lion of monseigneur ramped 
 in a refulgent new coat of gold leaf. 
 
 The wooden doors were wide open, displaying the interior 
 of the quadrangle ; a long strip of crimson carpet conducted 
 from the gate over the pavement to the principal entrance 
 to the house; footmen in episcopal purple liveries, their hair 
 powdered, skipped hither and thither.
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 1 2 ! 
 
 Lindet walked straight into the court, and asked to see the 
 bishop. 
 
 'You must wait in the office, yonder,' said the servant he 
 addressed, with impatience. 
 
 ' Please to tell the bishop that I desire to see him.' 
 
 'You're mighty imperious. Perhaps he may not want to 
 see you.' 
 
 'Never mind. Tell him that Thomas Lindet, cure of 
 Bernay, has walked to Evreux on purpose to see him, and 
 see him he must.' 
 
 ' Well, well, sit down in the office.' 
 
 Lindet entered the little room, and waited. He waited an 
 hour, and no bishop came ; he rang a bell, but it was not 
 answered ; then he stepped out into the court, and catching 
 a servant by the arm, insisted on his message being conveyed 
 to monseigneur. 
 
 ' This is a mighty inconvenient time,' said the man ; ' don't 
 you know that the Prince is expected t ' 
 
 ' But not here.' 
 
 ' Yes, here ; he stays at the palace,' 
 
 Lindet stepped back in astonishment. 
 
 'What does the priest want.?' asked the butler, who was 
 passing at that moment. 
 
 'I have come here desiring to speak with monseigneur. I 
 have come from Bernay on purpose.'
 
 1 2 6 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 
 
 ' ' Get along with you/ said the butler ; ' what do you mean 
 by intruding at this time ? Don't you know that his lordship 
 only sees the parsons on fixed days and hours? Get out of 
 the court at once, you are in the way here/ 
 
 * I shall not go/ said the cure, indignantly ; ' I shall not 
 move from this spot till my message has been taken to the 
 bishop. He may be just as indisposed to receive me to-morrow 
 as to-day.' 
 
 ' Ay ! he won't see any of you fellows till the latter end of 
 next week. So now be off!' 
 
 'What is the matter.?' asked a voice from an upper window. 
 'Chopin, who is that ?' 
 
 The butler and the priest looked up. At an open window 
 stood Monseigneur de Narbonne-Lara, in a bran-new violet 
 cassock and tippet, his gold pectoral cross rubbed up, his 
 stock very stiff, and his dark hair brushed and frizzled. ' What 
 is all this disturbance about, Chopin, ay.?' 
 
 'Monseigneur!' replied the butler, bowing to the apparition, 
 'here is a cure from Bernay, who persists that he must see 
 your lordship.' 
 
 ' Tell him, Chopin, that I am engaged, and that this is not 
 the proper day.' 
 
 ' Monseigneur/ began the butler, again bowing ; but Lindet 
 interrupted him with — 
 
 ' I want to speak for one moment to your lordship,'
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 127 
 
 ' Who are you ? ' 
 
 ' I am Thomas Lindet, cure of S. Cross.' 
 
 *0h! indeed. Friday week, at 2 p.m.,' said the bishop, 
 shutting the window and turning away. 
 
 Lindet remained looking after him. The bishop stood a 
 moment near the window, with his back towards the Hght, 
 meditating; then he turned again, opened the casement, and 
 called — 
 
 '■ Chopin, you may give him a glass of cider, and then send 
 him off.' 
 
 ' Yes, monseigneur.' 
 
 He slammed the window, and walked away. 
 
 Lindet had much trouble in finding an inn which had a 
 spare bed to let. The Grand Cerf was full and overflowing; 
 the Cheval Blanc, nearly opposite, seemed to be bursting 
 out at the windows, for they were full of heads protruded 
 to a perilous distance, gazing up the Paris road ; the Golden 
 Ball at last offered an attic bed, which Lindet was glad to 
 secure. This little inn stood in the Belfry Square, a market- 
 place, named after an elegant tower containing a clock and 
 curfew bell, in the purest Gothic of the fourteenth century, 
 surmounted by a spire of delicate lead tracing, in the same 
 style as that on the central tower of the Cathedral, but smaller 
 considerably. The square was tolerably free from people, 
 as monsieur was not expected to pass through it, and
 
 128 IJV EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 the comparative quiet was acceptable to the weary priest. 
 After having taken some refreshment, and rested himself for 
 an hour on his bed, his restless, excited spirit drove him 
 forth into the street. 
 
 The bells of the Cathedral and S. Taurin were clanging 
 and jingling, flags fluttered from every tower and spire, mus- 
 ketry rattled, men shouted, a band played the Descent of 
 Mars, as Lindet issued from a narrow street upon the square 
 before the Cathedral and saw that it was crowded, that a 
 current was flowing in the midst of that concourse, and that 
 the current bore flags and banners, and followed the music. 
 The priest, mounting upon a kerbstone, saw that the civic 
 procession was conducting the Prince to the episcopal palace. 
 He saw the town gilds pass, then the confraternities or clubs, 
 in their short loose cassocks, knee-breeches, and caps, with 
 sashes tied across their breasts, emblazoned with their insignia. 
 Three principal confraternities appeared — that of Evreux, pre- 
 ceded by a banner figured with S. Sebastian, that of S. IMichael, 
 and that of S. Louis. A band of Swiss soldiers in red uniform 
 followed, and in the midst of these guards rolled the gaily- 
 painted carriage of Louis-Stanislas-Xavier, son of France. 
 Lindet saw a portly young man, of good-humoured but stolid 
 appearance, bowing acknowledgment of the acclamations which 
 greeted him. That was the Prince. Lindet saw nothing of 
 the reception at the gate, presided over by the ramping lion
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. i 29 
 
 and the wounded saint ; he could hear a pompous voice read- 
 ing, and he knew that monseigneur was delivering an address 
 from the Clergy to the Royal Duke, but what was said, how 
 many titles were rehearsed, how much flattery was lavished, 
 how many expressions of devotion and respect were em- 
 ployed — all this was lost in the buzz of the crowd. 
 
 What was he to do ? He could not wait for more than 
 a week, as required by the bishop. The journey had cost 
 him more than he could well afford, and the expense of the 
 inn at Evreux would far exceed what his purse contained, 
 if he deducted the twenty-five livres due to the bishop. He 
 had determined not to give the money to the officiel^ but to 
 the prelate himself, and to explain to him the reason of his 
 having broken the requirements of the Church. 
 
 Entering the Cathedral, he seated himself in the aisle, where 
 he could be alone and in quiet, to form a plan for seeing 
 the bishop and coming to an explanation with him; but he 
 could not hit upon any to his mind. He walked round 
 the church, admiring its height, and the splendour of its 
 glass. In the Lady Chapel he stood, and his lip curled 
 with a smile as he observed, in one of the north windows, 
 a bishop vested in cope and mitre, holding the pastoral staff 
 in one hand, whilst with the other he threw open the cope 
 to grasp a sword girded at his side, and exposed a suit of 
 knightly armour, in which he was entirely enveloped. 
 
 VOL. I. ^ K
 
 130 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said Lindet to himself, ' when these panes were pic- 
 tured it was as now, the shepherd's garb invested the wolf. 
 And what marvel ! If the Church may not appoint her own 
 pastors, how can she be properly shepherded ? " Qui prae- 
 futurus est omnibus ab omnibus eligatur," said S. Leo.' 
 
 The priest lingered on till late in the church. He was 
 weary, and the Cathedral was more attractive than the little 
 bedroom at the ' Golden Ball.' He took a chair in the chapel 
 of S. Vincent, and was soon asleep. 
 
 It was afternoon when the prince arrived, and the after- 
 noon rapidly waned into evening dusk, and the dusk changed 
 to dark. 
 
 At nine, the Cathedral doors were locked, after a sacristan 
 had made a hasty perambulation of the church to see that 
 it was empty. Lindet did not hear his call, as he walked 
 down the aisles crying 'All out!' and the verger did not 
 observe the slumbering priest in the side chapel. Thus it 
 happened that the curd was locked up in the church. 
 
 It was night. when he awoke; slowly his consciousness re- 
 turned, and with it the recollection of where he was. He 
 was much refreshed. The walk of many miles every day in 
 hot sun had worn him out, and this quiet nap in the cool 
 minster had revived him. 
 
 The moon glittered through the windows, and carpeted the 
 aisle floors.
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 131 
 
 He rose from his chair, and leaving the chapel, bent his 
 knee for a moment before the High Altar, where the lamp 
 hung as a crimson star, and tried the north transept door 
 which opened into the square. It was locked. He then 
 sought the west doors, but found them also fast. Returning 
 down the south nave aisle, he saw lights from without re- 
 flected through the windows on the groined roof, and strains 
 of instrumental music were wafted in. 
 
 Near the south transept he found a small door : it was the 
 bishop's private entrance. Lindet pushed it, and the door 
 yielded. He found himself in a small cloister leading to the 
 palace. The lights were brighter, and the music louder. They 
 issued from the palace garden, of which the priest obtained a 
 full view. 
 
 The garden occupied the whole south side of the Cathedral, 
 and was well laid out in swath and flowers. A beautiful 
 avenue of limes extended the whole length of the garden, 
 above the broad moat which separated the palace precincts 
 on the south from the city. This moat has been turned into 
 a kitchen-garden in our own day, but in that of which we are 
 writing it was full of water. The avenue, therefore, formed 
 a terrace above a broad belt of water, not stagnant, as in 
 many moats, but kept fresh by a stream flowing through 
 it. 
 
 The modern traveller visiting Evreux, should on no account 
 
 K 2
 
 132 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 fail to walk on the city side of this old moat, for from it he 
 will obtain the most striking view of the magnificent Cathedral 
 and the ancient picturesque palace, rising above the lime-trees. 
 A couple of lines of young trees have been planted, and the 
 half-street turned into a boulevard; but in 1788, this side of 
 the moat was bare of trees, and a row of tall houses faced 
 the water, with only a paved road between, and a dwarf 
 wall pierced at intervals with openings to steps that de- 
 scended to the moat, where all day long women soaped 
 and beat dirty clothes, with much diligence, and more 
 noise. 
 
 Lindet found the garden brilliantly illuminated. Lamps 
 were affixed to the old walls of the Cathedral, and traced 
 some of its most prominent features with lines of coloured 
 fire. The statues which, in imitation of Versailles, the bishop 
 had set up in his flower-garden, held lanterns. A pond of 
 gold-fish, in the centre of the sward, surrounded a vase, in 
 which burned strontian and spirits of wine, casting a red 
 glare into the water, and producing a wild contrast to the 
 calm white moonlight that lay in flakes upon the gravelled 
 walks. 
 
 The avenue was, however, the centre of light. In it tables 
 were laid, brilliant with candelabra supporting wax candles, 
 and with coloured lanthorns slung between the trees, and 
 lamps attached to every trunk. At intervals also were sus-
 
 IX EXITU ISRAEL. 1 33 
 
 pended brass rings, sustaining twenty candles. "Wreaths of 
 artificial flowers, banners, mirrors, statues holding lights, 
 transparencies, occupied every conceivable spot and space, 
 and transformed the quiet old lime avenue into a fairy-land 
 palace. 
 
 The tables were laden with exquisite viands in silver, and 
 glittered with metal and glass. 
 
 The higher end of the tables was towards the west, and 
 a dais, crimson carpeted, raised a step above the soil, 
 supported the board at which sat the prince, the bishop, and 
 all the most illustrious of the guests. 
 
 On the opposite side of the moat, a crowd of hungry 
 women and children strained their eyes to see the nobles 
 and high clergy eat and drink, which was only next best to 
 themselves eating. 
 
 ' So we are going to have the States-general, after all/ 
 said the Duke de la Rochefoucauld, a noble-looking man, 
 with a frank, open countenance, full of light and dignity. 
 
 ' Yes,' answered the prince ; ' His Majesty cannot with- 
 draw his summons.' 
 
 'You speak as if he wished to do so,' said I\I. de la 
 Rochefoucauld. 
 
 'I am not privy to his wishes,' answered Louis Stanislas 
 with a smile on his heavy face; 'let us not talk of politics, 
 they are dull and dispiriting subjects.' Then, turning to the
 
 134 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 bishop, he said: ' Monseigneur, I think you could hardly 
 choose a more delightful retreat than this of yours. To my 
 taste, it is charming. You are really well off to have such 
 a capital palace and such delightful gardens. If I were you, 
 nothing would induce me to change them. Why, look at 
 the Archbishop of Rouen By the way, how is the arch- 
 bishop .''' he turned to the duke, whose kinsman the prelate 
 was. ' I heard he had been seriously unwell' 
 
 The Duke de la Rochefoucauld assured 'monsieur' that 
 the cardinal was much better; in fact, almost well. 
 
 ' That is right,' said the prince. Then again addressing his 
 host, he continued : ' No, I assure you, nothing in the world 
 would induce me, were I you, my Lord Bishop, to desert 
 this see for another.' 
 
 ' I am hardly likely to have the chance put in my way,' 
 said the bishop. 
 
 'And then,' pursued Louis, 'who, having once built his 
 nest in charming Normandy, would fly to other climes .'' 
 You are a brave Norman by birth, I believe, monseigneur.?' 
 Louis had an unfortunate nack of getting upon awkward 
 subjects. This arose from no desire of causing annoyance, 
 but from sheer obtuseness. He resembled his brother the 
 King in being utterly dull, with neither wit nor vice to relieve 
 the monotony of a thoroughly prosaic character. 
 
 ' No, your grace,' answered the bishop, slightly reddening.
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 135 
 
 *I belong to a Navarre family. The family castle of Lara 
 is in Spain. The name Lara is territorial, and was adopted 
 on the family receiving the Spanish estates and Castle ' 
 
 'Excuse me/ said the prince, interrupting him; 'but I 
 think, my dear Lord, we have a ghost before us.' 
 
 The bishop looked up from his plate, on which his eyes 
 had rested whilst narrating the family history, and saw im- 
 mediately opposite him, standing below the da'is, in ragged 
 cassock, with the buttons worn through their cloth covers, 
 with dusty shoes, and with a pale, eager face quivering with 
 feeling, Thomas Lindet, cure of S. Cross at Bernay. 
 
 The bishop was too much astonished to speak. He stared at 
 the priest, as though he would stare him down. The guests 
 looked round almost as much surprised as the prince or the 
 bishop, so utterly incongruous was the apparition with the 
 place. The look, full of pain, stern and passionate, con- 
 trasted terribly with the faces of the banqueters, creased with 
 laughter. The pale complexion, speaking too plainly of want 
 and hunger— why did that look upon them as they sat at 
 tables groaning under viands and wines of the most costly 
 description.? The dress, so ragged and dusty, was quite out 
 of place amongst silks and velvets. The bishop waved his 
 hand with dignity, and his episcopal ring glittered in the 
 lights as he did so. But Lindet did not move. Then, 
 addressing his butler over the back of his chair, the prelate
 
 136 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 
 
 said : ' Chopin, tell the fellow to go quietly. If he is hungry, 
 take him into the servants' hall and give him some supper.' 
 
 Lindet put his hand into his bosom, and drew forth a litde 
 moleskin purse,— a little rude purse, made by one of the 
 acolytes of Bernay out of the skins of the small creatures 
 he had snared, and given as a mark of affection to his priest. 
 He emptied the contents of this purse into his shaking palm, 
 and with agitated fingers, he counted twenty-five livres, put 
 the rest — it was very little — back into the mole-skin bag ; and 
 then, holding the money, he mounted the dais. 
 
 ' Go down, sir, go down ! ' said the indignant prelate ; 
 and several footmen rushed to the priest to remove him. 
 
 'Leave me alone,' said Lindet, thrusting the servants off; 
 ' I have business to transact with my diocesan.' 
 
 'What do you want.?' asked the bishop, his red face 
 turning purple with wrath and insulted pride; 'get you gone, 
 and see me at proper times and in proper places!' 
 
 ' Monseigneur,' answered Lindet in a clear voice, 'I have 
 walked through dust and heat from Bernay to speak to you, 
 and I am told I cannot see you for a whole week.' 
 
 * Go, go ! ' said the bishop ; ' I do not wish to have an 
 unpleasant scene, and to order you to be dragged from my 
 table. Go quietly. I will see you to-morrow.' 
 
 ' No,' Lindet answered ; ' you would not receive me privately 
 this afternoon, now vou shall receive me publicly, whether the
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 137 
 
 time suits or not. You have fined me, unheard, for not having 
 lit my sanctuary-lamp. I had neither oil nor money ; therefore 
 I must pay you a heavy fine. There is the money — ' he 
 leaned across the table, and placed it in the bishop's plate. 
 ' Count it, — twenty-five livres ; and next time your lordship 
 gives a feast, spend what you have wrung from me in buy- 
 ing — ' he ran his eye along the table, and it lit on a pie, — 
 ' goose-liver pasties for your distinguished guests.' It was a 
 random, shot, a bow drawn at a venture, but it went in at 
 the joints of the mail, and smote to the heart. 
 
 Lindet turned from the table and walked away. 
 
 The guests sprang to their feet with a cry of dismay. 
 Monseigneur de Narbonne-Lara had fallen out of his chair 
 in an apoplectic fit. 
 
 -<:^c-;
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 'Come here, children — my angels, Gabriel and Gabrielle!' 
 said ]\Iadame Plomb, standing in the corridor at an open 
 window. ' Come and see what is to be seen.' 
 
 The yellow cat, who had been seated on a little work-table 
 in the lady's boudoir, bounded lightly to the floor, and obeyed 
 its mistress's call. Reaching her, the cat leaped to her shoulder, 
 that being the situation in which it would obtain an uninter- 
 rupted view^ of what it was called to witness. Gabrielle followed, 
 still in white, for she had no other clothes with her, looking 
 very pale, with dark rings round her eyes. 
 
 Madame Berthier made no allusion to the occurrences of 
 the night; they seemed to have faded from her recollection, 
 and her attention had been concentrated on cat's cradles, 
 which she was able to execute with great ease, now that she 
 had Gabrielle's fingers on which to elaborate the changes. 
 
 In the courtyard was Berthier' s travelling carriage, with 
 the horses attached, and the coachman standing beside them. 
 Foulon and his son-in-law were near the carriage. 
 
 * Adolphe ! my dressing-case,' said the old man.
 
 IX EX ITU ISRAEL, 139 
 
 'INIonsieur, you will find it in the well under the seat.' 
 'Are the pistols in the sword-case?' asked Berthier. 
 'Monsieur will find them in the sword-case.' 
 ' You have packed up my green velvet coat, and you have 
 provided silk stockings.?' asked Foulon. 
 
 'Monsieur will find everything in his trunk.' 
 ' But you have forgotten the canister of snuff.' 
 ' INIonsieur, I ask pardon, it is under the seat.' 
 'Ah!' said Foulon, pointing up at the window, and nudging 
 Berthier ; ' contrasts, — see !' 
 
 The Intendant looked up, and caught sight of the three 
 faces looking down on the preparations, — the yellow-faced 
 cat, the blue-faced wife, the pale-faced peasant-girl. 
 
 ' You are surely going to salute the cheeks of your lady, 
 before you start, my friend,' said Foulon. Then, in a loud 
 voice to his daughter, — 'Well now, Imogene, how are you 
 this morning 1 eh ! In rude health and buoyant spirits. 
 Capital ! And how is my little darling .'' What ! pale as the 
 moon. The naughty dogs must have disturbed your innocent 
 slumbers. Oh, Poulet ! oh, Pigeon ! you rascals,' he shook 
 his forefinger at the dogs, — ' how shall I forgive you for 
 having broken the rest of my little mignonne ! for having 
 robbed her of her roses ! for having filled her maiden breast 
 with fear ! Oh, you dogs ! oh, oh !' 
 
 ' Is everything ready ?' asked Berthier of Adolphe.
 
 I40 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 
 
 ^ Everything — everything/ replied the footman. 
 
 ' See that the dogs be properly fed, Gustave/ 
 
 ' Certainly, monsieur.' 
 
 'What is the matter with my boy's eye?' asked Foulon. 
 ' It has been lacerated ; it is unusually tender ; it is bruised.' 
 Then, elevating his voice, and addressing those at the window, 
 ' Ah ! who has been striking and scratching my good Berthier ? 
 I know it was that cat. Oh, puss ! you sly puss, how demure 
 you look! but that is all very well by day. At night, ah! 
 then you show your claws.' 
 
 The sheriff, finding that everything necessary was in the 
 carriage, mounted the steps to the house, and making his 
 way to the corridor presented himself before his wife, Gabrielle, 
 and the cat. He stood before them with his eyes down, and 
 with a sullen expression of face. His right eye was dis- 
 coloured and cut ; it both watered and bled, and he repeatedly 
 wiped it. 
 
 ' Madame,' said he, with less of his usual insolence of 
 manner, ' your father and I shall be absent for some days.' 
 
 * Look me in the face,' said his wife. He lifted his eyes 
 for an instant; the wounded organ evidently pained him, for 
 it was glassy, and the lid closed over it immediately; the 
 other fell before the glance of the lady. 
 
 ' IMadame,' he continued, ' we are about to visit Conches 
 on business, and, after a delay there of a day, we proceed to
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 141 
 
 Evreux to meet the Count of Provence. He visits the 
 bishop, and \ve dine with him at the palace on Thursday 
 evening.' 
 
 ' What is that to me } ' asked his wife. 
 
 'I thought you would like to know, madame,' 
 
 ' Why do you not call me Madame Plomb } ' 
 
 His eyes fluttered up to hers and fell again. 
 
 ' Because you are a coward/ said the lady. ' I know you 
 for a bully and a coward.' 
 
 * IMadame, I shall retire,' he said, scowling. ' I came here 
 in courtesy to announce to you our departure, and I meet 
 with insult,' 
 
 ' What is to become of this child } ' asked the lady, touching 
 Gabrielle. 
 
 ' She remains here,' answered Berthier ; ' I have eng.iged 
 her to be your servant. I have hired her of her father.' A 
 look of triumph shot across his flabby countenance : ' he has 
 received six months' wage in advance.' 
 
 Gabrielle uttered a faint cry and covered her face. 
 
 ' I doubt not he has returned the money,' said Madame 
 Berthier. ' See ! in this soiled rag is a sum ; it was cast in 
 at the window last night. If I mistake not, this blood which 
 discolours the linen is yours. It looks like yours, it feels like 
 yours — ugh ! it smells like yours.' 
 
 'Madame, I know nothing about that money. I know
 
 142 AV EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 that I have agreed with the girl's father, that he has received 
 payment for her services, and that I keep her here.' 
 
 ' Whether she remains here or at home,' said IMadame 
 Berthier, * she is safe from you, as long as I am here to 
 protect her.' 
 
 ' As long as you are here/ answered Berthier, as he walked 
 towards the stairs. Then turning to her, with his foot on 
 the steps, he said, with a coarse laugh : * As long as you are 
 here to protect her ! Quite so, Madame Plomb. But how 
 long will you be here.?' He disappeared down the stairs, 
 and entering the carriage with Foulon, drove through the 
 gay iron gates, and was gone. 
 
 ' Gabrielle,' said Madame Berthier ; ' my dear child, we will 
 seek your father, and ask him whether this is true. I do 
 not believe it, do you, Gabriel, my angel ! ' she turned her 
 lips to the cat's ear. The animal rubbed its chin against 
 her mouth and purred. * I understand, my sweet ! you wonder 
 how the money came in at the window, do you not.? Well, 
 perhaps the good man was deceived by that beast, and, when 
 he found out what sort of a man the beast was, he brought 
 the money back; he could not get into the house at night, 
 so he cast the silver through the window. Was it so, Gabriel .? 
 You are awake at night, you walk about in the moonlight, 
 you can see in the dark ; tell me, my seraph ! was it so .? ' 
 Then catching the girl's arm, she whispered, 'Wait, I have
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 143 
 
 not shown you the cat's castle. You have seen his net and 
 his coffer, his parlour, his pantry, and now you shall see his 
 castle, in which we shall shut him up when he is naughty. 
 That is his Bastille. Have you ever seen the Bastille, 
 Gabrielle.? No, of course you have not. Now come with 
 me, and I will build you the cat's Bastille.' 
 
 The unfortunate woman drew the little peasant-girl into her 
 yellow room, seated herself in her high-backed chair, and in 
 a moment had her fingers among the strings. 
 
 ' Take it off, Gabrielle,' she said. ' Come, Gabriel ! sit 
 quiet, and you shall see the pretty things we shall construct 
 for you.' 
 
 The cat obediently settled himself into an observant attitude, 
 with his head resting between his paws ; Gabrielle drew 
 her chair opposite Madame Berthier, and held up her fingers 
 to receive the threads. 
 
 ' So,' said the lady ; ' that is the net.' 
 
 She worked nimbly with her fingers. 
 
 ' I have such trouble when I am alone,' she said ; ' I have 
 to stretch the threads on this winding machine, or lay them 
 on the table. Gabriel is so selfish, he will not make an 
 attempt to assist me. But then all these contrivances are 
 for him, you know, and he would lose half the pleasure, if 
 he were made to labour at their construction. See ! this, now, 
 is the cat's cabinet. I should so much like to do something,
 
 144 ^^ EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 that is, to dye your white dress saffron. You do not know 
 how becoming it would be. I love yellow and black. I 
 wear black, but Gabriel wears yellow. There ! we have the 
 basket. They used to dress the victims of the Inquisition in 
 yellow and black, and torture and burn them in these colours. 
 This is the cat's parlour. And Jews, as an accursed race, 
 were obliged to wear yellow, so I have heard. Among the 
 Buddhists, too, the monks wear saffron habits, in token that 
 they have renounced the world. This, my dear, is the pantry. 
 And the Chinese wear it as their mourning colour — their very 
 deepest mourning. But I like it; it suits my complexion, I 
 think. There ! Do you observe this } How your fingers 
 tremble ! This is my own invention. Put up your fingers, 
 so. Up, up ! There, now. You have the cat's Bastille, a 
 terrible tower for naughty pusses, when we shut them up. 
 Ah ! what have you done with your shaking, quaking fingers .? 
 You have pulled down, you have utterly dissolved my Bastille, 
 and all the imprisoned cats will get out!' 
 
 At the same moment, Gabriel bounded from his perch. 
 
 'Why, how now!' exclaimed Madame Berthier; 'you are 
 crying, my poor girl I Why do you cry .? You lack patience. 
 Ah ! that is a great and saintly virtue, very hard to acquire. 
 Indeed, you can only acquire it by constant prayer and making 
 cat's cradles. That is my experience. Yes, it is patience 
 that you want. We poor women have much to bear in this
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 145 
 
 world from the wicked men. If we had not religion and 
 trifling to occupy our thoughts and time, we should go mad. 
 I am sure of it. Sometimes I feel a burning in my head, 
 but first it comes in my chest, a fire there consuming me ; 
 then it flames up from my heart into my brain, and sets that 
 on fire, and I should go crazy but for this. I say my rosary 
 and then I make cradles, and then I say my chaplet again, 
 and then go back to my threads. Why are you crying .? ' 
 
 ' Madame ! ' entreated Gabrielle ; ' may I go to my father .? ' 
 
 ' But, my dear, I think the beast said your father had engaged 
 you to him as my servant and companion.' 
 
 ' Oh, dear madame ! you are so kind, pray let me see him 
 and speak to him.' 
 
 ' You shall,' answered the lady ; ' I will accompany you. I 
 Hke to walk out, but I go veiled. I frighten children some- 
 times, and even horses are afraid of me. Yes; we will go 
 together, and I shall see your papa ! Ah ! I long to see your 
 papa ! You are Gabrielle, and my cat is Gabriel, Both were 
 quite white, till I dyed my angel yellow, and I want to dye 
 your white clothes, and then you will be both just alike. 
 Who knows, when I see your papa, perhaps we may be 
 alike ! ' 
 
 The strange woman went into her bed-room to dress for 
 going out; presently she came from it, bearing some black 
 garments. 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 IiV EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 ' You should have waited,' said she to Gabrielle ; ' after the 
 Bastille comes the grave. I was going to make the grave 
 for puss, and then you pulled my tower down.' 
 
 When ready for the walk, INIadame Berthier parted with 
 many expressions of tenderness from the yellow cat. It 
 was some time before she could resolve on going, for she 
 stood in the door wafting kisses to her ' angel Gabriel,' and 
 apologising to him with profuse expression of regret for 
 her absence. 
 
 * But we shall return soon, my Gabriel ! do not waste your 
 precious affections in weeping for my absence. Soon, soon ! 
 And now, adieu ! come on, my Gabrielle.' 
 
 The walk was pleasant, and Madame Berthier enjoyed it. 
 She insisted on picking yellow and blue flowers as they went 
 along, and showing them to her companion. 
 
 ' See ! ' she would say ; ' the colours harmonise.' 
 
 The plantation of pines was soon passed, and then their 
 road traversed beech copse. The leaves were beginning to 
 turn, for the drought had aff'ected the trees like an early frost. 
 Among the beech were hazels, laden with nuts, hardly ripe; 
 fern and fox-gloves grew rank on the road-side. 
 
 The day was warm, the air languid, being charged with 
 moisture that rose from the heated and wet earth, so that a 
 haze veiled the landscape. The flies were troublesome, 
 following INIadame Berthier and Gabrielle in swarms. A
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 147 
 
 squirrel darted across the path and disappeared up one of 
 the trees. 
 
 ' Oh ! ' cried Madame Berthier ; ' if Gabriel had only been 
 here. How he would have run, how he would have pounced 
 upon that red creature! Gabriel is so nimble.' 
 
 'Ah, madame!' exclaimed the girl, as they came within 
 sight of the valley and the Island of Swallows, 'my poor 
 father has lost his corn.' 
 'What is the matter?' 
 
 ' See ! the water has been out, and it has flooded our field 
 in which the wheat was standing uncarried.' 
 
 ' Alas ! the pretty yellow corn,' said Madame Berthier, ' your 
 father must buy some more.' 
 'He has no money.' 
 
 ' Yes, child, he has ; did not the beast give him your wage ? 
 Ah ! I forgot, and he returned it.' 
 
 They crossed the little foot-bridge. Gabrielle stood still, 
 with her hand on her heart, and looked round, 
 ' I do not see him,' she said, anxiously. 
 ' Oh, the papa is indoors, doubtless.' 
 They reached the front of the cottage. 
 'The garden must have been very gay,' said Madame 
 Berthier ; ' what roses ! but ah ! how the rain has battered 
 them, and the flood has spoiled the beds. Why do you 
 grow so many pink and white roses t I like this yellow one.' 
 
 L 3
 
 148 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 Gabrielle put her hand on the latch and gently opened the 
 door. She looked in; it was dark, for the litde green blind 
 was drawn across the window. 
 
 ' Go in, my child,' said the lady ; ' I will look about me, 
 and then 1 shall come to you. I want to see the papa, so 
 much/ 
 
 The girl stepped into the room, and called her father. 
 
 How silent the house seemed to be ! the air within was close 
 and hot. 
 
 ' Father, where are you t ' she called again. 
 
 Madame Berthier was picking some roses, when she heard 
 a scream. She ran to the cottage-door, sprang in, and saw 
 Gabrielle standing against the wall, her eyes distended with 
 horror, her hands raised, and the palms open before her, as 
 though to repel some one or something she saw. 
 
 ' What is the matter .? ' asked madame. ' It is so dark in 
 here.' She drew back the window-curtain. 
 
 'Ah!' 
 
 There, in a corner, where the ladder conducting to the 
 upper rooms had stood, hung IMatthias Andr^, with his head 
 on one side, his eyes open and fixed, the hands clenched and 
 the feet contracted. 
 
 ' Mon Dieu ! is that the papa ? ' exclaimed Madame Berthier. 
 * Why, really, he is not unlike me. See ! our faces are much 
 alike. I am IMadame Plomb, and he is Monsieur Plomb.'
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 149 
 
 The girl was falling. The strange woman carried her out 
 into the open air. 
 
 ' His complexion is darker than mine,' she said, musingly ; 
 'but we are something alike.' 
 
 — «•«•«#>^•>>•>^—
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 The shock was too much for Gabrielle's already excited 
 nerves to bear, and she remained for several days prostrated 
 with fever. During this time, Madame Berthier attended her 
 with gentle care and aifection. She administered medicines 
 with her own hand, slept in the room beside her, or kept 
 watch night and day. The unfortunate woman having at 
 length found a human being whom she could love, concen- 
 trated upon her the pent-up ardour of her soul. The cat 
 attracted less attention than heretofore, and for some days 
 his cradles were neglected. 
 
 If Madame Berthier had been given a companion whom 
 she could love, in times gone by, and had been less ill- 
 treated by her husband and neglected by her father, she 
 would never have become deranged ; it is possible that a 
 course of gentle treatment and forbearance from irritating 
 conduct on the part of M. Berthier might eventually have 
 restored her already shaken intellect ; but such treatment and 
 forbearance she was not to receive.
 
 AV EX ITU ISRAEL, 151 
 
 Madame Berthier was walking in the court-yard one day, 
 when Gabrielle was convalescent. Her husband and father 
 had returned, but she had seen Httle of them. The former 
 carefully avoided the wing occupied by the invalid and his 
 wife, out of apprehension of infection, for he was peculiarly 
 fearful of sickness ; and Foulon did not approach them, not 
 having occasion. 
 
 As she passed the kennel, she halted to caress the hounds. 
 Poulet and Pigeon were docile under her hand, and never 
 attempted to fly at and bite her. She and her father were 
 the only persons in the chateau who had the brutes under 
 perfect control ; they feared Foulon, but they loved IVIadame 
 Plomb. Animals are said to know instinctively those persons 
 who like them. The poor woman exhibited a remarkable 
 sympathy with animals, which they reciprocated. The dogs 
 would never suffer Berthier to approach them without bark- 
 ing and showing their fangs, because he amused himself in 
 teasing and ill-treating them ; they slunk into their kennels 
 before Foulon's cold grey eye, IMadame Berthier they saluted 
 with gambols. She patted the dogs, and addressed them by 
 name. 
 
 ' Well, Pigeon ! well, Poulet ! how are you to-day } Are 
 you more reconciled to Gabriel ? Ah ! when will you learn 
 to love that angel.? He fears you; he sets up his back, and 
 his tail becomes terrible to contemplate; and you— you
 
 1 5 2 IN EX ITU ISRA EI . 
 
 growl at him, and you leap towards him, and I know if you 
 were loose you would devour him. Alas ! be reconciled, and 
 love as brethren.' Turning to Adolphe, who approached, she 
 asked, ' Have they been good boys lately ? ' 
 
 'Madame, their conduct has been superb.' 
 
 ' That is nice, my brave dogs ; I am pleased to hear a 
 good account of you.' 
 
 'Madame, I must except Poulet for one hour. For one 
 hour he misconducted himself; but what is an hour of evil 
 to an age of good ? it is a drop in an ocean, madame.' 
 
 ' Did he misconduct himself, Adolphe ? How was that .? ' 
 
 ' Alas ! madame, that I should have to blame him ; and 
 yet the blame does hardly attach to him, — it rests rather on 
 the staple, — the staple of his chain. It gave way that day 
 that the cur^ came.' 
 
 'What cure.?' 
 
 ' Ah ! madame does not know ? IMonsieur the Curd of 
 Bernay arrived at the gate, and the brave dog rushed towards 
 him, and would have devoured him, doubtless, but for the 
 rails. The staple, madame, was out ; but Gustave and I, 
 assisted by your honoured father, secured the dog once 
 more, and no blood was shed.' 
 
 ' What brought the cure here ? ' 
 
 Adolphe fidgeted his feet, and platted his fingers. 
 
 ' Tell me, Adolphe,' persisted madame, ' tell me why
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL, i.^3 
 
 jNI. Lindet came to this house. These gates are not usually 
 visited by Religion/ 
 
 •'Madame/ answered the servant in a low voice, and with 
 hesitation, ' I think he came here to enquire after the young 
 girl ' 
 
 'I understand,' said the lady. 'Who spoke to him?' 
 
 ' It was ]M. Foulon, your honoured father, who dismissed 
 him.' 
 
 ' Did the priest seem anxious to obtain information ? ' 
 
 ' jMadame, I believe so ; he seemed most anxious.' 
 
 ' Thank you, Adolphe. Open the gate for me ; I am going 
 to Bernay.' 
 
 ' Madame will, I am sure, not mention what I have said,' 
 the man began, nervously. 
 
 ' Be satisfied ; neither M. Berthier nor M. Foulon shall 
 know that you have mentioned this to me.' 
 
 ' Madame is so good ! ' exclaimed the man, throwing open 
 the gate. 
 
 The unfortunate lady, having gathered her veil closely over 
 her face, so as completely to conceal it, took the road to 
 Bernay, and, entering the town by the Rue des Jardins, 
 crossed the square in front of the Abbey, and speedily made 
 her way to the Place S. Croix, where dwelt the priest. 
 
 The day being somewhat chilly, Thomas Lindet was seated 
 before the fire in the kitchen ; his brothers, Robert and Peter,
 
 154 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 were with him. Robert was an attorney in practice at Bernay, 
 Peter was supposed to help him in the office, but as the prac- 
 tice was small, and Peter was constitutionally incapable of 
 attending to business, or of doing anything systematically, his 
 value was nil. The brothers were remarkable contrasts. Some 
 years later, when the events of the Revolution had developed 
 their characters, they were nicknamed Robert le Diable, Thomas 
 ITncredule, and Pierre le Fou. It is needless to say that these 
 names were given them by their enemies. Only in the first 
 dawn of Christianity do we find a nickname given in a spirit 
 of charity — Barnabas, the Son of Consolation. These names 
 were partly just and partly unjust. Robert was never a devil; 
 Thomas was, perhaps, a doubter; Peter was certainly a fool. 
 Robert had an intelligent face, much like that of his brother 
 the cure ; his lips were habitually arched with a smile ; it was 
 difficult to decide whether the smile was one of benevolence 
 or of sarcasm. An ironical twinkle in his eye led most who 
 had deahngs with him to suspect that he was internally jesting 
 at them, when they received from him some mark of courtesy 
 or esteem. A thorough professional acquaintance with the 
 injustice of the ancien regime, had made him as desirous 
 of a change as his brother Thomas. He had the same pas- 
 sionate love of right and liberty, the same vehemence, but his 
 strong clear judgment completely governed and modulated his 
 impulses. He was scrupulously honest and truthful. The
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL, 155 
 
 Revolution rolled its course around him, and he became one 
 of its most important functionaries, without compromising his 
 character, without losing his integrity ; under every form of 
 government he served, being found an invaluable servant 
 in the interest of his country, true to France and . to his 
 conscience. He had no love for power; he dreaded its 
 splendour : he loved only to have work and responsibihty. 
 He was less a man of politics than of administration. 
 His extreme caution was a subject of reproach, but it 
 saved his neck from the guillotine in the Reign of Terror, 
 and his probity, which left him unenriched by the public 
 moneys which had passed through his hands, preserved 
 him from exile in 181 6. Of him the great Napoleon 
 said : ' I know no man more able, and no minister more 
 honest.' The innumerable difficulties with Vv-hich he had to 
 deal in administrative and financial practice during the Revo- 
 lution, occupied his close attention, and he shunned public 
 discussion, in which he knew he should not shine, that he 
 might be the soul of committees. The Girondins, mistrusting 
 him, thrust him into the arms of Robespierre, who received 
 him, saying, ' We shall found Salente, and you shall be the 
 Fenelon of the Revolution.' 
 
 Jean Baptiste Robert, to give him his name in full, was 
 little conscious of the part it was his destiny to play, at the 
 time our story opens. He and Peter were smoking.
 
 156 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 ' Well, Thomas ! what have you gained by this move ? ' 
 asked Robert, alluding to his brother's expedition to 
 Evreux. 
 
 ' To my mind,' put in Peter, 'you have acted very wrongly, 
 and have not exhibited that respect to constituted authority 
 which the catechism enjoins/ 
 
 Thomas had his own misgivings, so he did not answer. 
 
 ' You should have waited,' said Robert. 
 
 * That is your invariable advice,' said Thomas, impatiently ; 
 ' always wait, wait, wait — till doomsday, I suppose.' 
 
 ' Till the election of deputies,' said Robert, between his 
 whiffs ; ' it is the same.' 
 
 'You will be inhibited, brother Thomas,' Peter observed, 
 as he shook some of the ashes from his pipe on to the floor ; 
 ' as sure as eggs are eggs, Monseigneur the Bishop will with- 
 draw your Hcence, and inhibit you from preaching and minis- 
 tering the sacraments. And quite right too.' 
 
 ' Why right, Peter ? ' asked Thomas. 
 
 ' Because you have gone against constituted authority. I 
 say, reverence constituted authority; never thwart it. Con- 
 stituted authority, in my eyes ' 
 
 ' Is constituted despotism,' said Thomas. 
 
 ' No ; it is right. Obedience is a Christian virtue ; obedience 
 is due to all who are set over us in Church and State. You 
 have revolted against constituted authority, brother, and con-
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 157 
 
 stituted authority will be down on you. You will be inhibited. 
 Mark my words, you will.' 
 
 ' No, not yet,' said Robert. ' To inhibit you would be to 
 wing the story, and send it flying through the province. But 
 be cautious for the future ; the least trip ^^^ll cause your fall.' 
 
 Madame Berthier tapped at the door, and the priest an- 
 swered it. 
 
 ' I want to speak with you,' she said, ' for one minute.' 
 
 ' Privately .? ' 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
 ' Then walk this way.' 
 
 He conducted her to his sitting-room, and requested her to 
 be seated. She did not remove her veil, but told him her 
 name. 
 
 'You came to Chateau Malouve in search of Gabrielle 
 Andre,' she said. ' Did they tell you she was there } ' 
 
 ' Madame, I did go in quest of her. Pardon me for speaking 
 plainly, but I knew she would be in great peril if she were 
 there.' 
 
 ' You were right, she would have been in great peril ; I have 
 protected her, however.' 
 
 ' She is with you, then, madame t ' 
 
 ' She is with me at present : she has been very ill. The 
 sKock of her father's death has been too great for her. She 
 is recoverino: now.'
 
 158 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 'Does the poor child remain with you?' asked the priest. 
 
 ' At present ; but I cannot say for how long. M. Berthier 
 may be removing to Paris shortly, our time for returning to 
 the capital approaches, and, if we go there — we — that is 
 Gabriel, Gabrielle and I.' 
 
 * Who is Gabriel, madame V 
 ' An angel.' 
 
 ' Pardon me, I do not understand.' 
 
 ' He is my solace, my joy.' 
 
 'Madame!' 
 
 ' He is my cat.' 
 
 ' Proceed, I pray.' 
 
 ' If we, that is, Gabriel, Gabrielle and I go to Paris, I cannot 
 be sure that I shall be able to protect the girl. Here, in the 
 country, servants are not what they are in Paris. There they 
 are creatures of the beast ! ' 
 
 ' Of whom, madame ? ' 
 
 * Of the beast — of my husband. What am I to do then ? 
 They will do what Berthier orders them; they will separate 
 her from me; they will lock me up. They have done so 
 before ; they will even tear my angel from my shoulder.' 
 
 'Your angel, madame.?' 
 
 'jNIy Gabriel, my cat. I have great battles to keep him 
 near me, how can I assure myself of being able to retain 
 her?'
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL, 159 
 
 ' What is to be done, then ?' 
 
 ' She cannot go home to her blue father ; she cannot stay 
 with yellow Gabriel. I ask you what is to be done/ 
 
 Lindet paused before he replied. The lady puzzled him, 
 her way of speaking was so strange. He looked intently 
 at her veil, as though he desired to penetrate it with his eyes. 
 Madame Berthier saw the direction of his eyes, and drew the 
 veil closer. 
 
 'Why do you stare?' she asked; 'my face is not beautiful: 
 it is terrible. The beast calls me Madame Plomb, and I hate 
 him for it; but,' she drew close to the priest and whispered 
 into his ear, ' I know now how to make him blue, like me, — 
 how to turn M. Berthier into INI. Plomb. We shall see, we 
 shall see one of these days ! ' 
 
 ' Madame, what is your meaning?' 
 
 'Ah, ha! I tell no one that secret, but you shall discover 
 my meaning some day. Now, go back to what we were 
 saying about Gabrielle. What is to be done with her?' 
 
 ' When you go to Paris ? ' 
 
 'Yes, I cannot protect her there. I am not safe there 
 myself. Here I can do what I Hke, but not there.' 
 
 ' I cannot tell you, madame, but I will make enquiries, and 
 find out where she may be taken in and screened against 
 pursuit.' 
 
 ' You promise me that,' she said.
 
 i6o I^^ EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 ' Yes, madame, I will do my best. If you will communicate 
 with me again in a day or two, I shall be more in a position 
 to satisfy you.' 
 
 ' Then I may trust in you as Gabrielle's protector when I am 
 unable myself to execute that office ?' 
 
 ' Certainly. I will be her protector/ 
 
 Madame Plomb rose from her seat, and departed. 
 
 As she approached the chateau, she heard the furious bark- 
 ing of the two dogs, and on entering the gates she saw the 
 cause. ]M. Berthier had wheeled an easy chair into the yard, 
 and was seated in it at a safe distance from the hounds, armed 
 with a long-lashed carriage whip, which he whirled above his 
 head, and brought down now on Poulet and then on Pigeon, 
 driving the beasts frantic with pain and rage. He had thrown 
 a large piece of raw meat just within their reach, and he 
 kept them from it by skilful strokes across the nose and 
 paws. The dogs were ravenous, and they flew upon the 
 piece of flesh, only to recoil with howls of pain. Pigeon had 
 bounded to the top of his kennel, and was dancing with 
 torture, having received a cutting stroke across his fore 
 paws ; then, seeing Poulet making towards the meat, and 
 fearful lest he should be robbed of his share, he leaped down 
 from his perch and flew after his brother, only to be nearly 
 overthrown by Poulet, as he started back before a sweep of 
 the lash.
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. i6l 
 
 Madame Berthier looked scornfully towards her husband. 
 
 ' Ah, ha ! my leaden lady ! ' cried he, as she drew near ; 
 'you have been taking a walk; there is nothing to be com- 
 pared with fresh air and exercise for heightening and refining 
 the complexion. You are right, madame, to wear a veil ; the 
 sun freckles.' 
 
 He had recovered all that insolence which seemed to have 
 left him on the day following her repulse of him. 
 
 ' Sacre ! you rascal ! will you touch the meat .? No, not 
 yet,' and the whip caught Poulet across the face. 
 
 The blow was answered with a furious howl. 
 
 'Are you going, Madame Plomb? No, stand here and 
 watch my sport. I do not like to have my sport interfered 
 with, mind that. What I like to do, that I will do. Sacre ! 
 who will dare to stand between me and my game V 
 
 ' I will,' said his wife, walking towards the dogs. 
 
 ' No, you shall not ; you shall leave that meat alone.' 
 
 She stooped, picked up the piece of raw flesh, and threw 
 it towards the dogs. 
 
 ' You are a bold woman to go so near the infuriated hounds,' 
 said Berthier, cracking his whip in the air ; 'I daren't do it.' 
 
 ' No, you are a bully ; and bullies are always cowards.' 
 
 ' Madame ! you are uncivil. You bark like Pigeon and 
 Poulet.' 
 
 ' I shall bite, too.' 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 1 62 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 
 
 'Do you know what we do with barking, biting, snarling, 
 angry, ungovernable beasts, eh ? with those who show their 
 teeth to their masters, who unsheath their claws to their lords ? 
 Do you know what we do with them, eh ? ' 
 
 He wiped his red eyes with the corner of his hand- 
 kerchief, leaned back in his chair, and laughed. ' Shall I tell 
 you what we do with dangerous animals, or with those who 
 stand between us and our object ? We chain them up.' 
 He laughed again. 
 
 Madame gazed contemptuously at his fat quivering cheeks. 
 
 'We lock them up, we chain them up,' continued he; 
 ' we make them so fast that they may bark as much as they 
 like, but bite they cannot, for those whom they would bite 
 keep out of their reach.' 
 
 ^■.^mm^^---—
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Madame Berthter had left Gabrielle in her yellow room, 
 with strict directions to attend to the cat, and to take him a 
 little stroll in the garden. The lady had descended to the 
 court-yard with full intentions of visiting the church of Notre 
 Dame, but the information given her by Adolphe had altered 
 her intention. The walk to Bernay and back took longer 
 than she had intended. 
 
 Shortly after madame had left the house, Gabrielle, carrying 
 the dyed cat in her arms, descended the stairs and entered 
 the garden. Her confinement to the house had removed the 
 dark stain of the sun from her skin, which was now of a 
 wheaten hue, delicate, and lighting up with every emotion 
 that sent a flush to her cheek. The anxiety and terror which 
 had overcome her, had left their traces on her face ; the old 
 child-like simplicity and joyousness were gone, and their place 
 was occupied by an expression of timidity scarcely less en- 
 gaging. She wore one of her own peasant dresses, so be- 
 coming to a peasant girl, and a pure white Normandy cap. 
 
 * Poor puss ! ' she said, caressing the yellow cat as she 
 
 M 2
 
 1 64 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 entered the garden ; ' do you love your mistress ? I am sure 
 you do, for already I love her, though I have not known her 
 half so long as you have. How can that dreadful man treat 
 her with so much cruelty? If he only knew how good she 
 was ' 
 
 * You surely do not allude to me when you use the expres- 
 sion "dreadful man." No, I am convinced you could not 
 have so named one who lives only to devote himself to you, 
 and gratify your every whim.' 
 
 Berthier stood before her, having stepped from an arbour 
 that had concealed him. 
 
 Gabrielle recoiled in speechless terror. 
 
 'Did I hear you say that you loved Madame Plomb.?' he 
 asked, advancing towards her. She shrank away. 
 
 'Did I hear you express affection for that leaden woman, 
 with her blue complexion, her bird-like profile, her fierce black 
 eyes, and her mad fancies.?' 
 
 ' Monsieur,' answered the girl, trembling violently, ' I do love 
 her ; she has been kind to me.' 
 
 ' Then,' said the fat man, throwing up one hand and laying 
 the other on his breast, ' I love her too.' 
 
 He looked at her from head to foot, feasting his eyes on her 
 beauty and innocence. She attempted to look up, but before 
 that bold glance her eyes fluttered to one side and then the 
 other.
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 1 65 
 
 'Do not run away, I will not touch you,' he said, as she 
 made a movement to escape ; ' I want merely to have a word 
 with you in confidence. If you will not listen to me here, 
 I will speak to you in the house. Whither can you go to 
 escape me .? The house is mine. No door is locked or 
 bolted which I cannot open.' 
 
 ' Monsieur, pray do not speak to me ! ' exclaimed Gabrielle, 
 joining her trembling hands as in prayer. 
 
 ' I must speak to you, little woman,' said Berthier, ' for I 
 have got a charming suggestion, strictly correct, you may be 
 sure, which I want to make to you.' 
 
 ' Let me go home ! ' she cried, covering her face with her 
 hands. 
 
 ' Home ! ' echoed Berthier. ' Where is your home } Not 
 the Isle of Swallows. Your father is deftd, you know that; 
 and another farmer has taken the house. How stupid of the 
 pere Andre to put himself out of the world just when his 
 daughter wanted a home ! ' 
 
 This brutal remark caused the girl's tears to burst forth. 
 
 ' Home ! ' continued the Intendant, approaching her ; ' this 
 is henceforth your home. I offer you my wealth, my man- 
 sions, my servants, myself.' He put his hand on her shoulder. 
 
 She sprang from the touch, as though it had stung her. 
 
 ' Foolish maiden, not to accept such offers at once. You 
 are in my power ; you have nowhere to flee to ; you have no
 
 1 66 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 relations to take your part against me. If I turn you out of 
 my doors, do you know whither to go? No; you have no 
 place to go to.' 
 
 * I have friends,' she sobbed. 
 ' Name them.' 
 
 ' I am sure Pauline Lebertre would give me shelter.' 
 
 * Who is Pauline Lebertre, may I ask } ' 
 ' The cure's sister.' 
 
 ' At La Couture .? ' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 M. Berthier clapped his fleshy hands together and laughed. 
 
 'You are vastly mistaken,' he said, 'if you think that 
 every house is open to you now. I lament to say it, but your 
 presence in this chateau is likely somewhat to affect your credit 
 with some good people. It is with unfeigned regret that I 
 assure you that this charming mansion of mine is regarded 
 with suspicion. It is even asserted that you left your father 
 and home for the purpose of making your fortune here ; that 
 the idea so weighed on the good IMatthias, that he committed 
 suicide, and that therefore you are his murderer.' 
 
 Gabrielle leaned against a tree, with her face in her hands ; 
 she could not speak ; shame, anguish, and disgust overwhelmed 
 her. 
 
 ' Do you think that the sister of a cure would invite you to 
 her house ? '
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 167 
 
 ' Monsieur, monsieur ! ' she cried ; ' leave me, I pray.' 
 ' Certainly, I will leave you to digest what I have told you," 
 he said, with great composure ; ' but not just yet ; I must place 
 certain alternatives before you, and, if you are a discreet girl, 
 you will make the choice I desire. If you leave my hospitable 
 roof, you go forth branded as your father's murderer, with an 
 ugly name that will ever cling to you. You will go forth to 
 be pointed at and scorned, and to be shut out of the society 
 of your friends. On the other hand, if you remain here, you 
 may remain on honourable terms. There is a place, not the 
 grave, which swallows up wives ; and the husband is left not 
 only to all intents and purposes a widower, but in the eye of 
 the law wifeless, so that he may marry again. I am sorry to 
 say it, but that place is about to swallow up jNIadame Plomb. 
 I offer you her place. She will be dead,— dead to all the 
 world, and dead by law. You may occupy the place of 
 honour at my table, sit beside me in my carriage, dress as 
 suits your taste, lavish money as you list. You shall be my 
 second wife, and the cure's daughter will come bowing down 
 to you and asking for subscriptions for the church and the 
 poor, and you can give more than all the rest of the people 
 in the village, and you can set up a magnificent tomb to your 
 father, and have a thousand masses said for his soul/ 
 
 * Madame ! ' cried the girl, ' oh, dear madame, come to my 
 rescue ! '
 
 1 68 TzV EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 ' You trust to the leaden wife to protect you, do you ? ' asked 
 Berthier, laughing. ' The leaden woman shall not be at hand 
 to stand between us much longer. I have managed that she 
 shall disappear.' 
 
 Gabrielle looked fixedly at him, and her heart stood still. 
 
 ' Yes, I promise you that/ said Berthier ; * I will have no 
 more knives drawn upon me, and presented at my throat. 
 I have taken precautions against a recurrence of such a pro- 
 ceeding. Let me tell you, dearest, that she shall not be much 
 longer in this house. In a very few hours I hope to see her 
 removed to a place of security. Should you like to know 
 whither ? ' — he sidled up to her, put his lips to her ear, and 
 whispered a name. ' Now I leave you,' he said, drawing back ; 
 ' I leave you to make your choice. Think what it would be 
 to be called Madame Berthier de Sauvigny, and to reign over 
 the peasants of JMalouve ! ' 
 
 With a snap of his fingers he \\ithdrew. It was some time 
 before Gabrielle had sufficiently recovered to escape into the 
 house. She fled to iMadame Berthier's room and threw herself 
 into a chair ; then, fearing lest her pursuer should intrude 
 himself upon her again, she went to the door to lock or bolt 
 it, but found that the bolt had been removed, and there was no 
 key in the lock. Berthier had spoken the truth when he said 
 that no place in the house was secure from his entrance. She 
 reseated herself, and awaited Madame Berthier's return.
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 169 
 
 That lady arrived in good spirits. She had secured a pro- 
 tector for Gabrielle, and she had spoiled her husband's sport 
 with the dogs. 
 
 'Well, my precious ones!' exclaimed she, as she entered. 
 ' Gabriel ! come to my shoulder. Where is my angel ? I do 
 not see him. Gabrielle, tell me where is the cat, or I perish.' 
 
 ' Madame,' answered the girl, who had started to her feet on 
 the entrance of the lady, ' I do not know ; I left him in the 
 garden.' 
 
 ' Have you cherished him, and consoled him for my 
 absence .? ' 
 
 ' Madame, I have done what I could.' 
 
 ' That is right. Oh ! it is delightful, now I can leave the 
 house without anxiety. Hitherto I have been torn with fears 
 lest some mischief should befall my angel, whenever I have 
 been absent from home ; but now I leave him to you in all 
 confidence. But — what is the matter with you ? you have been 
 crying.' 
 
 ' Madame ! you have been so good to me, but I cannot 
 remain in this house. I cannot, indeed.' 
 
 ' My dear child, I know that you cannot, and I have this 
 afternoon been to find you a protector, and I have secured 
 you one.' 
 
 ' Who, madame } ' 
 
 ' The cure of Bernay.'
 
 1 70 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 ' Madame,' faltered the girl, ' does he know that I am here ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, child.' 
 
 ' And he will yet receive me ? ' 
 
 * I do not know that he will himself receive you, but he has 
 promised to find you a refuge.' 
 
 ' Madame, tell me, does he think evil of me ? ' 
 
 ' Of you ? No ; why should he ? ' 
 
 ' Because, madame, I am in this house.' 
 
 ' Ah, to be sure ; that is not to the credit of any young 
 woman; but I have assured him that I stood between you 
 and harm.' 
 
 Gabrielle flung herself before INIadame Berthier, to clasp her 
 feet ; the lady caught her and held her to her heart. 
 
 'You are too good to me,' the girl sobbed. 'Oh, madame, 
 how can I ever repay you ? ' 
 
 ' You will pray for me.' 
 
 ' Ever, ever ! ' fervently ejaculated Gabrielle. 
 
 ' And for Gabriel, my cat.' 
 
 'Madame,' said the girl, clinging to the unfortunate lady, 
 ' madame, how shall I say it ? — but you are yourself in danger.' 
 
 ' I am always in danger,' said the poor woman. ' Am not 
 I married to a beast ? But tell me, now, what has made you 
 cry whilst I have been out ? The beast has not been near you 
 to insult you. If he has,' — she gnashed her teeth; all the 
 softness which had stolen over her strange countenance altering
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. l*\\ 
 
 suddenly to an expression of hardness, — 'if he has, I shall 
 draw my knife upon him again. And I shouW be sorry to do 
 that, because I do not want to make him bleed ; I have other 
 designs in my head. Ah ! they are secrets : we shall see ! 
 perhaps some day we shall be m.ore alike than we are now. 
 Well — ' she seated herself and removed her bonnet and veil — 
 'well, and how came you to part company with the yellow 
 cat?' 
 
 ' Madame ! you are in danger.' 
 
 ' I have told you that I am in danger every day. In danger 
 of what ? Of being grossly insulted ; of being called Madame 
 Plomb; of having my liberty taken from me. I have been 
 locked up in my chamber before now, and the beast threatened 
 me with something of the kind just now, as I passed him in 
 the yard, teasing the dogs. That man is hated by all. The 
 people of Paris hate him ; his servants hate him ; his dogs 
 hate him ; you hate him ; and so do I, — I hate him. I am all 
 hate.' 
 
 ' Madame, let me tell you what he said to me.' 
 
 ' I do not care to hear, — I can guess ; he spoke of me 
 and called me INIadame Plomb,' she stamped, as she men- 
 tioned the name. ' He made his jokes about me. He always 
 makes his jokes about me to the servants, to his guests, to 
 any one — and, if I am hstening and looking on, all the 
 better.'
 
 172 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 ' Dear, dear madame, let me speak.' 
 
 ' You do not know, however, how my father treats me. 
 That is worst of all. But where is Gabriel ? Where is the 
 yellow angel ? Come, we will make his cradle.' 
 
 In a moment she had the threads about her fingers. 
 
 The girl saw that her only chance of being attended to was 
 to wait her opportunity. 
 
 ' This is the cat's net,' said INIadame Berthier. ' This is his 
 basket.' She pursued the changes ^^•ith her usual interest, 
 till it came to that of her own invention. As Gabrielle 
 put up her fingers for the construction of the castle, she said, 
 nervously : 
 
 ' ]\Iadame, what do you call this tower or prison ? ' 
 
 ' I call it the cat's castle.' 
 
 ' But you have another name for it. You told me about 
 ■a dreadful prison in Paris ' 
 
 ' Ah ! the Bastille.' 
 
 * Yes, madame. Who are shut up in that place ? ' 
 
 * Political offenders, and mad people, and, indeed, all sorts 
 of folk.' 
 
 ' How are they put in there ?' 
 
 ' Why, those who have committed poHtical offences ' 
 
 ' No, dearest madame, the others.' 
 ' What ! the mad people .?' 
 ' Yes.'
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 173 
 
 'Their friends get an order from the king, and then they are 
 incarcerated.' 
 
 ' Are all mad people in Paris put there ?' 
 
 ' Oh dear no ! they are sent to Bicetre. But only those 
 of very great families, or those whom it is not wise or prudent 
 for their relatives to have sent to the general asylum, are im- 
 prisoned there/ 
 
 ' Madame, have you ever feared ?' 
 
 ' Feared what, Gabrielle ? ' 
 
 ' Feared lest ' the girl hesitated and shook like an aspen. 
 
 'I have often been much afraid of an accident befalling 
 my darling Gabriel. Oh ! child, the anguish and terror of 
 one night when the dear cat was absent. He had not been 
 in all day, and night drew on and no Gabriel came, so I sat 
 up at the window and watched, and I cried ever and anon, 
 but he did not answer.' 
 
 'Madame,' interrupted the girl, clasping the poor lady's 
 hands, and utterly ruining the tower of threads ; ' dear, dear 
 Madame Berthier, have you never feared the Bastille for 
 yourself ? ' 
 
 Those words struck the lady as though with an electric shock. 
 She started back and gazed with distended horror-lighted 
 eyes and rigid countenance at Gabrielle; her hands fell 
 paralysed at her side; her mouth moved as though she 
 would speak, but not a word escaped her lips.
 
 174 
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 At that moment the dogs began to bark furiously in the 
 yard, and continued for some minutes. 
 
 IMadame Berthier slowly recovered such self-possession as 
 she ever had. 
 
 'Did he mean that?' she asked; 'he said that those who 
 were dangerous were chained up. Gabrielle, tell me, did he 
 threaten that to me?' 
 
 ' Madame, he said as much ' 
 
 The unhappy woman was silent again. She seemed cowed 
 at the very idea, her feet worked nervously on the floor, and 
 her fingers twitched ; every line of her face bore the impress 
 of abject fear. 
 
 ' Oh, Gabrielle ! do not desert me ! ' she entreated piteously. 
 ' I have no friends. My husband is against me, my father 
 is indifferent. I fling myself on you. Do not desert me — 
 Gabrielle, Gabrielle ! ' the cry of pain pierced the girl to the 
 heart. 
 
 ' My dearest madame,' said she ; ' I will follow you.' 
 
 ' Gabrielle, did you hear aright ? Was it not the cat they 
 were going to take to his castle ? Hark !' 
 
 There was a sound, a tramp of feet in the corridor. 
 
 'Who are these, who are coming?' shrieked the poor 
 woman. 
 
 The girl was too frightened to move from her place. She 
 stood trembling, and the tread drew nearer.
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 1 75 
 
 * Fly to the door, shut it, lock it!' cried Madame Berthier, 
 throwing herself from her chair on the ground and tearing 
 her grey hair with her discoloured hands. 
 
 Gabrielle stood irresolute but one moment, then she fell 
 on her knees beside her mistress, and raised her head and 
 kissed her, as the tears flowed from her eyes over the frightened 
 deathly countenance of the unfortunate woman, whose trembling 
 was so violent and convulsive that the floor vibrated under 
 her. 
 
 ' Gabrielle ! ' gasped the poor lady, suddenly becoming 
 calmer; 'if I be taken, remember M. Lindet is your pro- 
 tector. Do not remain here.' Then her mind rambled off 
 to the horror w^hich oppressed her. 
 
 The door was thrown open, and Berthier entered with his 
 eyes twinkling, and his cheeks wagging with laughter. Behind 
 him were some soldiers. 
 
 'In the king's name!' he exclaimed. 'Ha! get up!' He 
 stood instantly before his wife, rubbing his hands. His eye 
 lighted on Gabrielle, and he saluted her with a nod and leer. 
 * Now, dear ! what did I say .? ' 
 
 Madame Berthier hid her face in the girl's bosom. All 
 fierceness, all her courage, every atom of power seemed to 
 have disappeared before the awful fear. 
 
 ' I will raise her,' said Berthier. 
 
 ' No,' exclaimed Gabrielle ; ' she is in my care.'
 
 17.6 I.V EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 ' In your care ! ' laughed Berthier ; ' much good your care 
 will do her.' 
 
 The girl gendy lifted the frightened woman to her feet, 
 but she could not stand without support. 
 
 ' She is dangerous/ said Berthier to the officers. ' Secure 
 her. She attempted my life with a dagger. Take care, she 
 may stab one of you.' 
 
 There seemed little danger of this from the quaking 
 being before them, nevertheless they secured her with 
 manacles. 
 
 Gabrielle clung to her. The soldiers thrust her aside. 
 
 ' Let me accompany her ! Oh, let me go with her ! ' she 
 pleaded ; ' I have no home but with her ! ' 
 
 ' What ! ' exclaimed Berthier, ' no home ! Why, this house 
 is your home. You have none other.' 
 
 Gabrielle was separated from madame. 
 
 ' Where are you going to take me?' asked the poor woman, 
 faintly. 
 
 ' To the Bastille,' answered her husband promptly, stepping 
 in front of her and staring into her eyes dim with fear, ' where 
 you will be secure, and knowing you to be there, I shall be 
 safe.' 
 
 'Let her come with me,' she besought, turning her face 
 towards Gabrielle. 
 
 ' By no manner of means,' answered Berthier with a laugh ;
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 177 
 
 * I intend to make her very comfortable here. Whilst you enjoy 
 your cell, she shall have your room.' 
 
 ' My cat !' gasped the wretched wife. 
 
 'Would you have me catch it for you?' he asked. 'No. 
 You must go without. Soldiers ! remove her.' 
 
 They obeyed. She offered no resistance. A carriage was 
 in the yard, ready to receive her. As the men drew her along 
 the corridor and down the stairs, her limbs refusing to support 
 her, her eyes turned from side to side in a strained, uneasy 
 manner, and moans escaped her lips. 
 
 Gabrielle, almost too stunned to think, stood and gazed 
 after her, but when she saw that the soldiers were about to 
 thrust her into the carriage, with her grey hair hanging loosely 
 about her shoulders, and with no cover for her face, she 
 rallied, and flying back to the room she had left, caught up 
 the bonnet and veil IMadame Berthier had so lately taken 
 off, and hastened after her to the court. She sprang upon 
 the step of the carriage, and with her own hands adjusted 
 the straggling hair, put on the bonnet, and drew the veil 
 over the face of her mistress. 
 
 ' Gabrielle !' murmured the poor woman, and the girl flung 
 herself into her arms. 
 
 'Come!' said Berthier; 'enough of this. Coachman, 
 drive on.' 
 
 Reluctantly the mistress and the maiden parted. Gabrielle 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 Stood looking after the carriage, as it rolled towards the gates 
 amidst the furious barking of the hounds. 
 
 Just as it passed through the entrance and turned into the 
 road, the head and arms of Madame Berthier appeared at the 
 coach window, the latter extended, and her cry, shrill and full 
 of agony, was echoed back from the front of the chateau : 
 
 ' Gabrielle ! save me, save me !' 
 
 ' That,' said Berthier, rubbing his eyes, ' that is more than 
 Gabrielle or any one else can do, excepting myself or the 
 king.' 
 
 ^-oi§"0:o-«
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Thomas Lindet stood at his window thinking. One by one 
 the lights died out in the town. A candle had been shining 
 through the curtain in ^ladame Leroux's bedroom for an hour, 
 and now that was extinguished. The red glow of the forge at 
 the corner had become fainter. For long it had shot a scarlet 
 glare over the pavement, and had roared before the bellows. 
 The clink on the anvil was hushed, the shutters were closed, 
 and only a feeble glimmer shone through their chinks, and 
 under the door. The watch had closed the tavern of the 
 ' Golden Cross.' None traversed the square. Lindet saw a 
 light still in IMadame Aubin's windows. She had a child 
 ill, and was sitting up with it. There was a glimmer also 
 from the window of M. Francois Corbelin, and the strains 
 of a violin issued from his room. There was no moon 
 now. The stars shone in the black vault above, and the 
 priest fixed his eyes upon them. 
 
 Save for the violin, all was hushed ; the frogs indeed trilled 
 as usual, but the curd was so accustomed to the sound that 
 he did not hear them, or rather did not know that his ear 
 
 N 2
 
 i8o IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 received their clamorous notes. Then suddenly he heard the 
 baying of some hounds, distant, but approaching. 
 
 A moment after, Lindet saw a figure dart across the 
 market-place, with extended arms, and rush to his door. 
 Looking fixedly at the form, he distinguished it to be that 
 of a woman. She struck at his door, and gasped, ' Let 
 me in ! they are after me.' 
 
 ' Who are you, and what do you want 1 ' asked the cure from 
 his window. 
 
 ' Oh ! quick, let me in,' she cried ; * the dogs ! the 
 dogs !' 
 
 ' Who are you } ' 
 
 ' I am Gabrielle ' she broke off with a scream, for 
 
 instantly from the street, out of which she had started, ap- 
 peared the bloodhounds, baying and tracking her. 
 ' For God's sake ! or they will tear me ! ' she cried. 
 Lindet flung himself down the stairs, tore the door open, 
 beat off" the dogs with a staff he snatched up, as the girl sprang 
 in ; then slammed and barred the door upon the brutes. 
 ' Have they hurt you .? ' 
 
 She could not answer ; her breath was nearly gone. 
 * Stay there,' he said ; ' I will fight a candle.' He groped 
 his way to the kitchen, felt for the tinder and steel, and 
 struck a fight. Having kindled from it a little lamp, he re- 
 turned to the girl. She had sunk upon the ground beside
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL l8l 
 
 the door, outside of which the hounds leaped and barked, and 
 at which they attempted to burrow. 
 
 ' How came you here ? ' asked the cure. He set down the 
 lamp, and raised her from the floor in his arms. 
 
 ' I have escaped,' she gasped. ' I ran. They are after me.' 
 
 Voices were now heard without, calling off the dogs. 
 
 ' Bah ! she has taken refuge with her dear friend the cure. 
 I thought as much.' The voice was that of Foulon. 
 
 ' Sacre ! ' exclaimed Berthier ; ' I wish we had discovered her 
 flight a little earlier. I wish the dogs had brought her down 
 in the forest. Sacre ! I wish ' 
 
 ' My dear good Berthier,' said Foulon, ' what is the use of 
 wishing things to be otherwise than they are.? always accept 
 facts, and make the most of them. Gustave ! take the dogs 
 away. They make a confounded noise.' 
 
 ' Remain here,' said Lindet, in an agitated voice ; ' I will go 
 and summon Madame Pin, the old woman whose house this 
 is. She is as deaf as a post.' 
 
 ' Do not go ! ' pleaded Gabrielle, trembling ; ' perhaps they 
 may get in. Wait, wait, to defend me.' 
 
 Lindet stood and listened to the voices outside. The dogs 
 were collared and withdrawn. Foulon tapped at the door. 
 
 ' Do not open,' entreated Gabrielle. 
 
 ' Well ! Monsieur le Cure,' said the old gentleman through
 
 1 8 2 IN EX ITU ISRA EI. 
 
 the door ; ' sly priest ! so the Httle rogue is with you ? What 
 will the bishop say ? So late at night ! ' 
 
 The noise had attracted the musician to his window. The 
 mother of the sick child had opened her casement, and was 
 looking out. IMadame Leroux started out of the dose into 
 which she had fallen, and appeared at her garret window. 
 
 ' What is the matter } ' asked the musician. 
 
 ' Ah, M. Corbelin ! ' exclaimed Foulon, in a loud voice ; 
 ' what foxes these cures are ! We have just seen one admit 
 a young and pretty girl to his house. Hark ! it is striking 
 midnight. No wonder all the dogs in the town have been 
 giving them a charivari.' Then, in a low tone to Berthier, 
 he said : ' My good boy ! I have served out our cure now, 
 for having repeated in the pulpit certain observations I made 
 in private. Those she-dragons yonder ' — he pointed up at the 
 windows — ' will have ruined Thomas Lindet for ever. Come, 
 let us go home.' 
 
 >-^<t>-^
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 It was evident that the States-general must be convoked. 
 All attempts on the part of the Court at evasion provoked so 
 loud and so indignant a burst of feeling from every quarter of 
 France, that Louis XVI finally resolved on conquering his 
 repugnance and yielding to popular pressure. 
 
 When Brienne resigned the ministry, he engaged Louis to 
 summon Necker, a banker of Geneva. Necker decided the 
 king to convoke the States-general, and to determine the 
 mode of convocation, the notables were summoned. Necker 
 was now prime minister of France. He was adored by the 
 people, who believed him to be liberal-minded and honest ; 
 and on his influence the Court relied to keep in check and 
 subordination the third estate, and use its weight as a counter- 
 poise to that of the nobility and clergy, who had acted so 
 decided a part in resisting the crown in the equal distribution of 
 taxation. As the object desired by the Court was to make the 
 two privileged classes bear their share in the burden, and as 
 the States-general consisted of three houses, of which two were 
 composed of those enjoying immunities, it was evident that
 
 1 84 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 they would unite against the wishes of the king and Necker, 
 and the Tiers Etat. To avoid this, Necker proposed that the 
 number of those representing the third estate should equal the 
 number of the noble and clerical delegates conjointly. The 
 assembly of notables, perceiving the design of the prime 
 niinister, rejected the double representation demanded in 
 favour of the communes, and the Parhament of Paris declared 
 that the States-general must be composed in the same manner 
 as in 1614, when they last met. An assembly of peers, held 
 on the 20th November, expressed the same sentiment, and the 
 notables were dismissed. The courtiers were so accustomed 
 to consider their will the rule of government, that the opinion 
 of the notables, the parliament, and the peers would have 
 prevailed, had not the necessity of filling the deficit in the 
 finances inclined the ministry towards the Tiers Etat. Necker 
 procured a decree of council deciding the double representa- 
 tion, on the 27th December; as to the question of delibera- 
 tions by orders or by the three houses united, that was remitted 
 to the decision of the States-general, convoked for the end 
 of April, 1789. 
 
 Although the hopes of the king rested on the third estate, 
 he feared it. He desired that it should vote taxes ; he resolved 
 that it should do nothing more. Some persons advised him 
 to assemble the States at Blois, at Orleans, or at Bourges, and 
 to avoid Paris, which would exert an incalculable influence over
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL, 
 
 the third house. Louis XVI, however, decided that the as- 
 sembly should take place at Versailles, where the splendour 
 of the Court was calculated to overawe the representatives of 
 the people, and render them complaisant tools of the royal 
 will. 
 
 When, in the autumn of 1788, it became apparent to the 
 whole of France that a crisis would arrive in the following 
 spring, and that there would be a struggle between the pri- 
 vileged and the unprivileged classes, which would end either 
 in the country asserting its rights and liberties, or in its further 
 and final subjugation, it became important to those whose 
 representatives occupied the upper houses, that they should 
 present a compact front to the common enemy — Justice. 
 
 The nobility were almost unanimous; but it became daily 
 more apparent that the second privileged class was by no 
 means so. The Church was divided into two classes, the upper 
 and the lower clergy, and the scission between them was 
 almost as sharp as that between the noble and the roturier. 
 The eyes of the Court were turned on the Church, which held 
 the scales between the parties, anxious to know whether its 
 bias would be cast on the side of the third, or of the higher 
 estate. The bishops and high clergy were stirred into activity, 
 and became pohtical agents; they exerted their influence on 
 all the clergy within their sway, to promote the election of 
 candidates favourable to the ancien regime.
 
 1 86 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 
 
 The opportunity of acting a part as a political agitator 
 inspired the Bishop of E\Teux, when recovered from his attack 
 of apoplexy, to make the circuit of his diocese, and by flattery 
 and promises extended to some, by pressure brought to bear 
 on others, to secure the election of candidates recommended 
 by himself as partizans of privilege and abuse. Indeed, his 
 ambition was to be himself elected. His negotiations had not 
 been as successful as he had anticipated; he discovered that 
 his clergy were by no means so enthusiastic in their devotion 
 to the existing state of affairs as were those who largely pro- 
 fited by them. Some listened to him and respectfully declined 
 to promise their votes to him or his candidate, others would 
 consider his lordship's recommendation, others again would 
 give no answer one way or another. The bishop was per- 
 sonally unpopular ; he had a domineering manner which 
 offended his clergy, and a tenacity to his dignity, which ren- 
 dered him disliked. If a living in his gift were vacant, he 
 kept it open for six months, and then appointed to it a priest 
 of another diocese ; if he were written to on business by one 
 of his clergy, he either gave him no answer, or did not reply 
 for months. Towards the close of his circuit, he arrived at 
 Bernay, not in the best humour at his ill success, and accepted 
 Berthier's invitation to stay at Chateau Malouve. Thither 
 sLindet was summoned. 
 
 Rumours had come to the bishop's ears that the liberal
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 1 87 
 
 party among his clergy, in casting about for a suitable delegate 
 at the approaching convocation, had mentioned the name of 
 the cur^ of S. Cross. No name could possibly have been 
 suggested more calculated to irritate monseigneur; and the 
 bishop had arrived at Bernay with a settled determination to 
 crush Lindet. The means were simple : he had but to sign 
 his name and Lindet was cast adrift ; but he must have some 
 excuse for inhibiting him ; and to provide him with this, Ponce, 
 the officiel, was summoned to Bernay. The excuse was, how- 
 ever, ready, and awaiting his arrival, — an excuse a great deal 
 more plausible than he had ventured to expect. The bishop 
 had not been an hour in the chateau before Foulon had made 
 him acquainted with ' a scandal which had compromised 
 Religion and the Church in that neighbourhood,' and had told 
 him how that Lindet had received a young woman into his 
 house at midnight, and had not dismissed her till next morning, 
 when he had sent her to his brother, the lawyer, to be his 
 servant. 
 
 Now it happened that the incident had caused no scandal 
 in Bernay, as Foulon had predicted, for the musician had from 
 his window witnessed what had taken place; Berthier's cha- 
 racter was well known in Bernay, and the disappearance of 
 Gabrielle had been widely commented upon. A few malicious 
 persons, perhaps, alluded to the priest's part in recovering the 
 girl, as indicating a very unaccountable interest in her, but
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 the circumstance had roused a deep indignation against the 
 Intendant in the breasts of the Bernay people, which was not 
 allayed when it transpired through Lindet, that Madame Ber- 
 thier, the protectress of the girl, had been carried off to Paris 
 by soldiers, to be incarcerated in the Bastille. 
 
 When Thomas Lindet reached Chateau Malouve, he was 
 shown into the yellow room, once occupied by the afflicted 
 lady, and which Berthier had surrendered to the prelate as his 
 office during his stay. 
 
 Lindet found the bishop seated near the window, at the head 
 of a long table, beside which sat M. Ponce, acting as his 
 secretary. Monseigneur de Narbonne bowed stiffly, without 
 rising from his chair, or removing his biretta; his red face 
 flushed purple as the priest entered, but gradually resumed 
 its usual ruddy hue. 
 
 ' I have received a paper, which INI. Ponce will do us the 
 favour of reading,' said the bishop in a pompous tone, without 
 raising his eyes from the table, or for a moment looking the 
 cure full in the face — ' a paper which contains grave charges 
 of a moral nature against you, Robert Thomas Lindet — your 
 name is correctly stated, is it not .^ ' 
 
 ' Yes, my Lord.' 
 
 ' But your brother, the lawyer, is also Robert.' 
 
 ' Monseigneur, his name in full is Jean Baptiste Robert.' 
 
 ' Then you are both Robert.'''
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 'Both, my Lord; but I have always been called by my 
 second name.' 
 
 ' M. Ponce, will you kindly ' the bishop bent slightly 
 
 towards his officer. 
 
 That gentleman rose, and taking up a paper, read in a voice 
 devoid of expression : — 
 
 'We, the undersigned, did, on the night of September 3, 
 1788, see a young girl, Gabrielle Andre, secretly enter the 
 parsonage of Robert Thomas Lindet, cure of S. Cross, at 
 Bernay, between the hours of eleven and twelve at night, 
 the said Robert Thomas Lindet himself admitting her, and 
 closing and locking the door after her. And we, the under- 
 signed, have ascertained that the said girl, Gabrielle Andre, 
 did remain in the house of the priest that night till the hour 
 of seven in the morning.' 
 
 This document was signed by Foulon, Berthier, Gustave, 
 and Adolphe. 
 
 The bishop closed his fingers over his breast, leaned back 
 in his chair, thrust his feet out under the table, setded his 
 neck comfortably in his cravat, and looked at Lindet. 
 
 The priest grew pale, not with fear, but with indignation. 
 
 'Have you anything to say upon this.?' asked the prelate, 
 blandly. Lindet flashed a glance at him, and the bishop's 
 eyes fell instantly. 
 
 ' Is this true V again asked the bishop, after a pause.
 
 J 90 I.V EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 ' Perfectly/ answered the priest in a hard voice. 
 
 ' I ask you whether, or not, you have thereby brought 
 scandal on the Church?' 
 
 'I do not care.' 
 
 ' ]\I. Lindet, please to remember in whose presence you 
 stand.' 
 
 ' I am not likely to forget, monseigneur.' 
 
 ' Then answer in a becoming way.' 
 
 ' jNIy Lord ! I ask to see my accusers.' 
 
 ' This is no public trial.' 
 
 ' I shall not answer till they are brought here face to face 
 with me.' 
 
 'I am your bishop. I insist on your answering me what 
 I ask. You are contumacious, sir. You forget where you are.' 
 
 ' That also/ said Lindet, ' I do not forget. I remember 
 but too distinctly that I am in the house of a man notorious 
 for his crimes, and whose hospitaHty you accept. I ask you, 
 my Lord, whether or not you have thereby brought scandal 
 on the Church.' 
 
 The bishop half started out of his chair. 
 
 ' This insolence is simply intolerable. To my face ' 
 
 * Better than behind your back. I tell you — the head of 
 the Church in this diocese, the guardian of religion and 
 morality — that you are outraging decency by lodging in this 
 polluted den.'
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 191 
 
 ' Leave my presence this instant/ said the bishop. ' Ponce ! 
 turn him out.' 
 
 ' No/ said Lindet, taking a chair, and leaning his hands on 
 the back to steady himself, for his limbs trembled with excite- 
 ment ; ' no, monseigneur ; a charge has been brought against 
 me, a slur has been cast on my character, and I ask to meet 
 my accusers face to face.' 
 
 'Pardon me!' The door opened, and Foulon stepped in, 
 bearing some peaches on a leaf. ' My dear Lord, I must 
 positively offer you this fruit, the very last on the tree. I 
 thought all were gone, but these are so luscious. Pray accept 
 them.' 
 
 Lindet faced him instantly, with abruptness. 
 
 ' Monsieur Foulon, I am glad you are here.' 
 
 ' Ah, ha ! my dear cure. Sly fellow ! Do you remember the 
 pretty little peasantess ? Well, I allow she was pretty, bewitch- 
 ing enough to have captivated a saint, therefore quite excusable 
 in a cure to have been ensnared.' 
 
 'Monsieur Foulon!' said the prelate with dignity, ruffling 
 up, and throwing a tone of reprimand into his voice. 
 
 ' I beg your lordship's pardon a thousand times, but he is 
 too sly. He amuses me infinitely.' 
 
 Thomas Lindet had much difficulty in controlling his naturally 
 quick temper. He gripped the back of the chair with nervous 
 force, and his lips whitened and trembled.
 
 192 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 ' I know you will allow me/ said Foulon, withdrawing the 
 chair ; and bringing it to the table, he seated himself 
 upon it. 
 
 Lindet, standing without support, shook like a leaf in the 
 wind. He folded his arms on his breast, and pressed them 
 tightly against it, to keep down the bounding heart. 
 
 ' INIonseigneur,' he said, ' this person has charged me with 
 having received a poor girl into my house.' 
 
 ' I saw her slip in, and I heard you bolt the door after her,' 
 said Foulon ; ' you did not suppose that anyone would be about 
 at midnight, eh ? ' 
 
 ' Was she a relation ? ' asked the bishop. 
 
 ' She was not, my Lord,' answered the cure. 
 
 ' A relative of your housekeeper ?' 
 
 'No: 
 
 ' Who was she ? ' 
 
 ' She was a poor orphan girl, whom IMadame Berthier, that 
 person's daughter, had entrusted to my charge, to protect her 
 from M. Berthier. The child was in danger here ' 
 
 ' Excuse me,' said Foulon in a grave tone, addressing himself 
 to the bishop, ' is this cure to bring charges of such a nature 
 as this against my son-in-law, in his own house ? ' 
 
 'You are right,' answered Monseigneur de Narbonne; 'I 
 insist on you, M. Lindet, exculpating yourself ^vithout slan- 
 dering others.'
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 193 
 
 ' M. Foulon,' said the priest, turning upon the old gentleman, 
 then engrossed in snuffing ; ' you know that what I say is true. 
 You know that the child was decoyed into this house by your 
 son-in-law; you know that your own daughter stood between 
 her and her would-be destroyer.' 
 
 ' He is mad,' said Foulon, calmly. ' Dear, dear me ! ' 
 
 Lindet could endure no more ; his blood boiled up, and 
 the suppressed passion blazed into action. He sprang upon 
 the imperturbable old man, and caught him by the shoulders, 
 and forced him round in his chair to face him. 
 
 ' Take some snuff,' said Foulon, extending his box. 
 
 ' Deny what I have said, if you dare ! ' 
 
 ' Certainly not ; I will deny nothing. Of course the girl was 
 brought here ; of course my Imogene stood between her and 
 ruin; of course she besought you to stand protector to the 
 child; — there, does that satisfy you? I grant all, you see, 
 now be calm. Always say " yes, yes " to a maniac ; it is 
 safest,' he added, aside to the bishop. 
 
 ' I think,' said Monseigneur de Narbonne, ' that I have heard 
 quite enough of this, — enough to satisfy me that jM. Lindet 
 is not a fit person to minister in my diocese. I will trouble 
 you,' he added, turning to M. Ponce, ' to give me that paper 
 you have been so diligently and kindly drawing up for me. 
 I must inform you,' he said, turning his face towards Lindet, 
 ' that I withdraw your licence, and inhibit you from performing 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 194 ^-"^ EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 any ecclesiastical function within my jurisdiction till further 
 notice.' 
 
 He took the paper from his secretary, and in a bold hand 
 signed it — ' F. Ebro.' 
 
 'You condemn and punish me, you destroy my character, 
 and ruin me, without investigating the charge laid against 
 me,' said the priest. 
 
 'You have acknowledged that the charge is substantially 
 correct.' 
 
 * I have not acknowledged it, nor can you prove that my 
 moral character is thereby affected.' 
 
 * I am quite satisfied that you are greatly to blame,' said 
 the bishop. ' I will not hold a public investigation, because 
 it would only increase the scandal, and I desire to spare you 
 and the Church that shame. I am satisfied that you are to 
 blame ; that is enough.' 
 
 *I demand a thorough investigation,' said the cure, with 
 great firmness. 
 
 ' You may demand one,' answered the bishop, ' but you shall 
 not get one.' 
 
 ' What ! ' exclaimed Lindet ; * I am to be ruined, and to be 
 deprived of the means of clearing myself ! ' 
 
 'I am satisfied,' said the bishop, drawing himself up. 
 
 ' But I am not,' retorted the priest. 
 
 The bishop bowed stiffly, and then turning to ]\I. Ponce,
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 195 
 
 said : ' I think we will proceed with other business. Good 
 morning, M. Lindet. Here is your inhibition.' 
 
 The cure stood silent for a moment, looking first at the 
 secretary, then at Foulon, who was engaged in pouring snuff 
 into his palm ; then at the bishop, who had taken up one 
 of the peaches, and with a silver pocket-knife was pealing it. 
 
 ' My lord bishop ! ' said Lindet, ' hear what I say. We, the 
 priests of the Church of France, have groaned under an 
 intolerable oppression : we have been subject, without redress, 
 to the whims and caprices of the bishop; neither justice nor 
 liberty has been accorded us. I shall resist this treatment. 
 I shall not submit to be crushed without a struggle. I appeal 
 to the law.' 
 
 ' You have no appeal,' said the prelate, coldly ; ' you are 
 a mere curate, — a stipendiary curate, and not an incumbent ; 
 the incumbent is under the protection of the law, the curate 
 is removable at the will of the bishop.' 
 
 Lindet paused again. 
 
 ' These peaches are delicious,' said the bishop to Foulon. 
 
 ' Then,' said the cure, ' I appeal to the country against eccle- 
 siastical tyranny. You spiritual lords, with your cringing sub- 
 serviency to the crown, with your utter worldliness, with your 
 obstructiveness to all religious movement in your dioceses, with 
 your tenacious adherence to abuses, and with your arbitrary 
 despotic treatment of your clergy, have taught us to hate the 
 
 o 2
 
 196 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 
 
 name of Establishment; to cry to God and the people to 
 destroy a monstrous, odious sham, and restore to the Church 
 its primitive independence. I wait the assembly of the States- 
 general, at which the clergy shall have a voice ; and then, 
 my Lord, then I shall speak, and you shall hear me.' 
 He turned abruptly on his heel, and left the room. 
 
 3B>^<^c-o.-
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 By an order dated January 24th, 1789, the king required 
 that the desires and reclamations of all his subjects should be 
 transmitted to him. Every parish was to draw up a statement 
 of its grievances and its wishes, which was to be handed into 
 the assembly of the secondary bailiwick, by it to be fused into 
 one which was forwarded to the grand bailiwick. The 
 secondary bailiwicks of Beaumont-le-Royer, Breteuil, Conches, 
 Ezy-Nonancourt, Orbec, and Bernay, belonged to the grand 
 bailiwick of Evreux. The nobility and the clergy drew up 
 their papers separately. 
 
 Another operation, not less important than the composition 
 of these tahiers, was to be simultaneously accomplished. This 
 was the election of delegates. 
 
 According to the edict of the 24th January, the ancient dis- 
 tinction of electors and deputies into three orders, the clergy, 
 the nobility, and the third estate, was maintained. These 
 orders had a common electoral circumscription, the grand 
 bailiwick. The mode of election in the two first orders was 
 made the same, but it was different in the third.
 
 198 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 
 
 The nomination of deputies for the clergy was to be made 
 directly by the bishops, abbes, canons, and other beneficed 
 clergy in the grand bailiwick. The cures, who subsisted on 
 the portion congrue, in another word, nearly all the clergy in 
 country parishes, could only vote in person if their parish were 
 within two leagues of the town in which was held the assembly, 
 unless they had a curate to take their place during their 
 absence, and provide for the religious requirements of the 
 people. 
 
 The election was equally direct for the deputies of the 
 nobility. The nobles possessing fiefs within the jurisdiction 
 of the grand bailiff, might appear by representatives, but all 
 others were required to appear in person. 
 
 The third estate, on the contrary, in naming its represent- 
 atives, had to traverse three stages. Eight days at latest after 
 having received the notification, the inhabitants composing the 
 tiers etat in the towns and country parishes, above the age of 
 twenty-five, were invited to unite in their usual place of as- 
 sembly, before the justice, or, in his default, before their syndic, 
 for the purpose of naming a number of delegates, the number 
 being proportioned to the population — two for two hundred 
 fires and under, three for more than two hundred, four for 
 three hundred and over, and so on, in progression. These 
 delegates were required to betake themselves to the seat of the 
 secondary bailiwick of their arrondissement, and there elect
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 199 
 
 one quarter of their number. Those who had passed this 
 ordeal were next bound to transport themselves to the principal 
 bailiwick, and there, united with the deputies of that particular 
 arrondissement of the bailiwick, and with the delegates of the 
 town corporations, to form, under the presidence of the lieu- 
 tenant-general, a college to which was remitted the final 
 election of deputies. 
 
 Such organization had this advantage, — it gave to the 
 elections, at a period when the relations of men with each 
 other were much more limited than they are at present, 
 guarantees of sincerity which they could not have had by direct 
 universal suffrage. At each stage the electors knew those 
 who solicited their votes. A communication was established 
 through an uninterrupted chain of confidential trusts, from the 
 most humble member of the primary assemblies to the delegates 
 sent to Versailles from the grand colleges. 
 
 On Monday, the i6th March, 1789, seven hundred and 
 fifty ecclesiastics, four hundred and thirty nobles, and three 
 hundred deputies of the third estate, assembled in Evreux 
 for the final election of delegates. 
 
 At eight o'clock in the morning, the great bell of the 
 Cathedral boomed over the city to announce the opening of 
 the first session. From the summit of the central spire floated 
 a white standard, powdered with golden lilies. Ropes had 
 been flung across the streets, and from them were slung
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 banners and flags bearing patriotic inscriptions, ' Vive le Roy ! ' 
 and ' Vive les Etats Generaux/ The lilies of France fluttered 
 from the windows of the barracks, the hospital, and the Palais 
 de Justice. 
 
 The weather was cold. The winter had been of unpre- 
 cedented severity, and the snow was not gone. On the north 
 side of the Cathedral it was heaped between the buttresses in 
 dirty patches. It glittered on the leaden roof of the aisles. 
 In the streets it was kneaded into black mud ; it lurked white 
 and glaring in corners. Women had been up at daybreak 
 sweeping the slush from their door-steps, and making the 
 causeway before their houses look as clean as the season per- 
 mitted. The limes in the palace-garden had not disclosed 
 a leaf; the buds were only beginning to swell. 
 
 It was a bright morning, almost the first really sunny spring- 
 tide day that year, and it was accepted by all as a glad omen 
 of a bright era opening on France with the elections of that 
 day. 
 
 A stream of people poured into the Cathedral through the 
 west gate and northern portal. The nave was reserved for 
 the electors; the people of Evreux filled the transepts and 
 aisles. In the centre, under Cardinal Balue's tower, sat the 
 nobility, many of them dressed with studious splendour; the 
 clergy occupied the choir, and overflowed into the choir-aisles. 
 The third estate sat west of the central tower. This body of
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 201 
 
 men presented marked contrasts in the appearance of the 
 members constituting it. Side by side with the lawyer and 
 surgeon, in good black cloth suits, black satin breeches, and 
 black silk stockings, sat the peasant delegate in coarse blue 
 cloth jacket, brown cap, — that cap which has been mounted 
 on the flag-staff of the Republic as the badge of liberty, — and 
 shoes of brown leather without heels, laced in front. Next 
 to him a miller, with a broad-brimmed hat, pinched to make 
 it triangular, a velvet waistcoat, and a coat set with large 
 mother-of-pearl buttons, and here and there also a curd in 
 cassock turned green with age, and black bands, edged with 
 white; for some of the country villages sent their priests to 
 bear their complaints before the great assembly. 
 
 Never had that noble church looked more impressive than 
 on that IMarch morning. It is peculiarly narrow and lofty, and 
 darkened by the immense amount of painted glass which fills 
 the windows, — glass of the highest style of art, and great depth 
 of colour, and thickness of material. 
 
 The bishop occupied his throne, and the Abbe de Cernay, 
 dean of the chapter, sang the mass of the Holy Ghost, in 
 crimson vestments. 
 
 Never, probably, has that grand church resounded with 
 a finer choral burst of song than when, at the conclusion of 
 the mass, those seven hundred and fifty priests, with the choir, 
 and a number of the laity, joined with the thunder of the organ,
 
 202 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 in the Veni Creator, sung to the melody composed by good 
 King Robert of France. 
 
 The assembly was then constituted in the nave of the 
 Cathedral. The candles were extinguished, the fumes of 
 incense faded away, the clergy who had assisted in robes 
 retired to lay aside their vestments ; seats and a table were 
 placed in the nave at the intersection of the transepts, and 
 M. de Courcy de Montmorin, grand bailiff of Evreux, took 
 his seat as president. Beside him sat ]\I. Girardin, lieutenant- 
 general of the bailiwick, and on his left ]\I. Gozan, procureur 
 of the king. Adrian Buzot, chief secretary, sat pen in hand 
 at the table. On the right, filHng the northern transept, sat 
 the clergy in a dense black body, with the bishops of Evreux 
 and Lisieux at their head in purple velvet chairs, studded with 
 gold-headed nails. The bishops wore their violet cassocks, 
 lace rochets, and capes, over which hung their episcopal 
 crosses. In the south transept were placed the nobles ; and 
 the third estate filled the first three bays of the nave below 
 the cross. 
 
 As soon as the assembly was seated, and silence had been 
 established, the grand bailiff rose. He was a venerable man, 
 of noble appearance, with a fresh complexion, bright clear 
 grey eyes, and a flowing beard whiter than the late snow 
 without. Raising his chapel from his blanched head as he 
 began his speech, he replaced it again. His voice, at first
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 203 
 
 trembling and scarcely audible in that vast building, gradually 
 acquired tone, and was, towards the close of the address, heard 
 by every one in that great concourse. 
 
 ' I give thanks to Heaven,' said the old man, lifting his cap 
 and looking upwards, ' that my life has been prolonged to this 
 moment, which opens before us, under the auspices of a 
 beloved monarch, a perspective of happiness, which we should 
 hardly have ventured to hope for. 
 
 * What an epoch in our annals, and, indeed, in those of 
 humanity ! A sovereign consults his people on the means 
 of assuring their felicity, and assembles around him all those 
 gifted with poUtical knowledge, to strengthen, or rather, to relay 
 the bases of general prosperity. 
 
 ' Already, from one end of France to the other, those social 
 ideas which establish the rights of man and citizenship on true 
 and solid foundations have been disseminated. Government, 
 far from attempting to hinder the spread of these ideas, has 
 allowed them a liberty in accordance with its own generous 
 purposes. 
 
 'It is for us, gentlemen, to show ourselves worthy of this 
 noble confidence reposed in us by our sovereign ; it is for us 
 to second the views of a monarch who consecrates for ever 
 his power, by showing that he desires to endear it to his 
 subjects. 
 
 ' Experience has taught kings, as it has their subjects, that
 
 204 ^^ EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 this alone is the means of protecting and securing the royal 
 prerogative from the seductions of their ministers, who too 
 frequently have stamped the decrees of their selfish passions, 
 their errors, and their caprice, with the seal of a cherished 
 and sacred authority. 
 
 ' In order that we may arrive at that patriotic aim, dear to 
 our hearts, we have to endeavour to maintain concord and 
 mutual consideration between the three orders. Let us then 
 from this moment suppress our own petty, selfish interests, and 
 subordinate them to that dominant interest which should 
 engross and elevate every soul — the public weal. 
 
 ' The clergy and the nobility will feel that the grandest of 
 all privileges is that of seeing the person and property of each 
 under national security, under the protection of public liberty, 
 the only protective power which is durable and infallible. 
 
 ' The third estate will remember the fraternal joy with which 
 all orders have hailed the success of the third in obtaining its 
 demands. Let it not envy its elder brethren those honorific 
 prerogatives, rendered legitimate by their antiquity, and which, 
 in every monarchy, accompany those who have rendered ser- 
 vice to their country, and whose families are venerable through 
 their age. 
 
 'Generous citizens of all orders, you whom patriotism 
 animates, you know all the abuses, and you will demand their 
 reform at the ensuing council of the nation.
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 205 
 
 ' I do not agitate the question of the limit of the powers 
 given to our deputies. Public opinion has decided that; in 
 order that they may operate efficaciously, they must be, if not 
 wholly unlimited, at least very extensive. 
 
 ' Such are the ideas, gentlemen, which I submit to your 
 consideration, 
 
 'I assure you solemnly of the sincerity with which I offer 
 up my prayers for the pubHc welfare. This hope — so sweet, 
 yet so late in coming to me, now far advanced in years, is 
 the consolation of my age, rejuvenated by the light of a new- 
 era which promises to dawn, inspiring with hope us who 
 stand on the brink of eternity, and which will be the glory 
 of our posterity. We shall lay the foundations, another 
 generadon will rejoice in the superstructure. I thank God 
 that this feeble hand is called even to the preparatory work, 
 and, gentlemen, I conclude with the words of the Psalmist : 
 " Respice in servos tuos, et in opera Hm, et dirige filios 
 eorum." ' 
 
 The venerable bailiff sat down; a thrill of emotion ran 
 through the assembly. In perfect silence, the roll-call and 
 verification of powers was begun. 
 
 Amongst those names first proclaimed, in the order of the 
 nobility, was that of Louis-Stanislas Xavier, son of France, 
 Duke of Anjou, Alen9on and Vendome, Count of Perche, 
 Maine and Senonches, Lord of the bailiwicks of Orbec and
 
 2o6 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 Bernay. This prince, who was afterwards Louis XVIII, was 
 represented by the IMarquis of Chambray. 
 
 When the names of the clergy were read, Monseigneur de 
 Narbonne turned his ear towards Adrian Buzot. 
 
 ' Robert Thomas Lindet, curate of S. Cross, at Bernay.' 
 
 ' I object,'* said the bishop, raising his hand. 
 
 The secretary turned to him, and asked his reason. 
 
 ' He is disquaHfied from appearing. He is under in- 
 hibition.' 
 
 Lindet sprang to his feet and worked his way to the front. 
 'I maintain,' said he, 'that an inhibition does not disqualify 
 me from appearing.' 
 
 The bishop leaned back in his velvet chair, crossed his 
 feet, folded his hands, and looked at the president. 
 
 *I have been inhibited without just cause, without having 
 been given a hearing, or allowed to clear myself of imputations 
 maliciously cast upon me.' 
 
 ' M. Lindet,' said the grand bailiff, ' we cannot enter upon 
 the question of the rights of the inhibition; we are solely 
 concerned with the question, whether that said inhibition in- 
 capacitates you from voting.' 
 
 ' Quite so,' the prelate interjected ; then his cold grey eye 
 rested upon Lindet, who returned the look with one of 
 defiance. 
 
 j\I. de Courcy whispered with the Procureur du Roi.
 
 nV EXITU ISRAEL. 207 
 
 ' I think/ said the bishop, in a formal tone, ' that, ^vhatever 
 may be the decision on the legahty of your appearing, 
 M. Lindet, there can be but one opinion on its propriety. 
 If you have not the decency to remain in retirement, when 
 lying under rebuke for scandalous and immoral conduct, you 
 will probably not be shamed by anything I may say/ 
 
 ' My Lord,' began the cure, ' I protest — ' but he was inter- 
 rupted by the president, who, nodding to AI. Gozan, the 
 agent for the king, said : 
 
 ' The objection raised by monseigneur appears to me not 
 to invalidate the claim of I\L Lindet to have a voice in the 
 redaction of the cahiers and the election of the clerical 
 delegates. The order of his Majesty makes no provision 
 for the case of a clerk under censure, and silence on this 
 point may fairly be construed in his favour. The sentence 
 upon him was purely spiritual, his status as stipendiary 
 curate remains unaltered. If he have a grievance, an oppor- 
 tunity is graciously afforded him by his Majesty of declaring 
 it. The ends proposed would be frustrated, if all those who 
 had grievances were precluded by an exercise of authority on 
 the part of their lords, feudal or spiritual, from expressing 
 them.' 
 
 The bishop coloured, bowed stiffly, and began to converse 
 in a low tone with M. de la Ferronays, bishop of Lisieux. 
 
 The preliminary work of calling over the names of electors
 
 2o8 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 and delegates occupied the session of that day. At four 
 o'clock in the afternoon it was dissolved, and the vast con- 
 course began to flow out at the Cathedral doors. 
 
 But it was observed by the bishops, that the clergy showed 
 no signs of moving from their places. 
 
 M. de Narbonne rose from his violet velvet chair, and 
 with a smile at his brother prelate, and then at the dean, 
 suggested that they should retire through the private entrance 
 in the south transept to the palace garden. 
 
 He was about to cross before the table at which Adrian 
 Buzot was still engaged with his papers, when Thomas Lindet, 
 standing on his chair, addressed him. 
 
 ' ]My Lord ! you have this morning publicly attacked my 
 character, by asserting that my conduct has been " scandalous 
 and immoral." I demand of you, before these my brother 
 priests, to state the grounds upon which you base that 
 charge.' 
 
 The bishop, taking the arm of his suffragan, did not even 
 turn to look at the cure, but began to speak rapidly to his 
 brother prelate. 
 
 ' My Lord ! are you going to answer me, or are you not .? ' 
 again asked Lindet. 'I appeal to you as a Christian — not 
 as a bishop. You have damaged my character. State 
 frankly your reasons for doing so. Give me an opportunity 
 of clearing myself.' He had spoken calmly so far, but all
 
 I A' EX ITU ISRAEL. 209 
 
 at once his natural impetuosity overpowered him, and he 
 burst forth with the sentence : * Stay ! you have just genu- 
 flected towards the Host ! you have bent the knee in homage 
 to Him who is IMercy and Justice, whose minister you are. 
 In His name I demand justice. Mercy I have long ago 
 ceased to expect/ 
 
 ' I had rather be keeper of a lunatic asylum,' said the 
 Bishop of Lisieux, ' than be custos of a herd of wild cures.' 
 
 The Bishop of I^vreux laughed aloud. The laugh echoed 
 through the aisles, and was heard by the priests, as he laid 
 his hand on the private door. 
 
 The dense black mass of clerics rose, and the bishop 
 darted through the door with purple cheek and blazing eye, 
 as a hiss, long and fierce, broke from that body of priests 
 he shepherded. 
 
 ' Barbarians ! blackguards ! ' said the bishop, shaking his 
 fist at the Cathedral, as he shut the door behind him and 
 quenched that terrible sound. ' Wait ! I have chastised you 
 hitherto with whips; when these States-General are over, I 
 shall thrash you into subserviency with scorpions.' 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Ox the following day, March 17, the three orders 
 betook themselves to their several places of reunion, to draw 
 up their memorials of grievances. The clergy assembled 
 in the hall of the Seminary of S. Taurinus under the 
 presidency of the bishop of the diocese, assisted by the 
 Bishop of Lisieux, Feron de la Ferronnais. The nobility 
 met in the Church of S. Nicholas, with the grand baiHff as 
 their chairman, and the third estate occupied the audience 
 chamber of the Viscount's court, and was presided over by 
 M. Girardin. 
 
 The deliberations of the third estate presented no incident 
 worthy of note. Unanimity reigned among the members, 
 and its resolutions were in accordance with, and had 
 indeed been prepared by, the discussions conducted in the 
 earlier stages of election. What were the pressing grievances 
 weighing on the people, have been already shown. The 
 cahiers from the villages and towns which were read before 
 it threw a clear hght also on ecclesiastical abuses; the prin- 
 cipal we shall extract from these documents for the edification 
 of the reader.
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 2 1 1 
 
 Intolerable abuses had invaded the collation to benefices. 
 The revenues ^vhich had been provided by the piety of the 
 past for the maintenance of public worship, for the subsistence 
 of the ministers of religion, and for the support of the poor, 
 had accumulated in the hands of a few abb^s about the 
 Court and high dignitaries of the Church. M. de Marbeuf, 
 archbishop of Lyons, was Abbot commendatory of Bee, the 
 nursery of S. Anselm and Lanfranc; the celebrated Abbe 
 Maury held in commendam the Abbey of Lyons-la-Foret ; 
 Dom Guillaume-Louis Laforcade, a Benedictine resident at 
 S. Denis, was Prior of Acquigny; De Raze, minister of the 
 Prince-bishop of Bale, was Prior of Saint-L6, near Bourg- 
 Achard; Lomenie de Brienne, archbishop of Sens, who was 
 minister of finance in 1788, and of whom ]\I. Thiers well 
 says, that ' if he did not make the fortune of France, he 
 certainly made his own,' possessed 678,000 livres per annum, 
 drawn from benefices all over France, and his brother, the 
 Archbishop of Trajanopolis was non-resident Abbot of the 
 wealthy Abbey of Jumieges. This state of things drew from 
 the redactors of the cahiers of the third estate many bitter 
 recriminations. ' It is revolting,' said Villiers-en-Vexin, ' that 
 the goods of the Church should only go to nourish the passions 
 of titulars.' ' According to the canons,' said the parish of 
 Thilliers, ' every beneficed clergyman is bound to give a 
 quarter of his income to the poor. In our parish, with a 
 
 p 2
 
 2 12 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 
 
 revenue of twelve thousand livres flowing into the Church, 
 nothing returns to the poor but the scanty alms of the ill-paid 
 curate.' 'Is it not surprising,' said the people of Plessis- 
 H^bert, ' to see so many bishops and abb^s squander their 
 revenues in Paris, instead of expending them on religious 
 works, in those places whence they are derived ? ' 
 
 Fontenay wrote in stronger terms : ' The most revolting 
 abuse is the miserable exspoliation of the commendatory 
 abbeys. The people are indignant at it. They see the fruit 
 of their toil pass into the covetous hands of a titular, deaf 
 to the cries of misery, whose ears are filled with the clatter of 
 political affairs and the rattle of pleasure. Let the king seize 
 on the property of the Church and pay with it the debts of 
 the State— this is what the country desires ! The Church has 
 no need of fiefs to govern souls.' 
 
 Whilst the high dignitaries rolled in riches, a large class of 
 priests, and that the most deserving, vegetated in a wretched 
 condition of poverty. These were the cures of parishes, who 
 were deprived of the tithe which passed into the hands of 
 some lay or high clerical impropriator, and who received only 
 a small indemnity, called the portion congrue, scarcely sufficient 
 to keep them from perishing with hunger. 
 
 The cahiers are full of commiseration for these poor dis- 
 inherited sons of the Church. Villiers-sur-le-Roule and Tosny 
 assert ' that the benefice of their cures., reduced to the ^oriion
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 2 1 3 
 
 cojigrue, is absolutely insufficient for their support, and for 
 enabling them to render help to the poor. The Abbe of 
 Conches absorbs half the tithe, and he does not give a sous 
 to the relief of the parish.' At Muids, 'the collegiate church 
 of Ecouis receives all the tithes. The chapter gives nothing 
 to the poor, and seeks only to augment the revenue. The 
 cure is reduced to misery.' The situation is the same at 
 Saint-Aubin-sur-Gaillon : ' The extent of this parish makes 
 the presence of a curate necessary, and as he receives from 
 the Abbe de la Croix-Saint Leufroy, who holds the great 
 tithes, only three hundred and fifty livres, and as the sum is 
 quite insufficient, he is obliged to go round at harvest-time, 
 like a begging friar, through the hamlets, asking for corn and 
 wine and apples. Surely this is lowering the priest, and is 
 adding an impost to the already taxed parish.' ' When the 
 cures have hardly a bare subsistence,' says the memorial of 
 Fontenay; 'when they are reduced to live on what is strictly 
 necessary, what can they offer to the poor ? They, have only 
 their tears. Let the cures have the tithe of the parishes in 
 which they minister.' 
 
 Still more hardly treated were the town cures, for the portion 
 co7igrue paid them was smaller in proportion than that given 
 to the country priests, upon the excuse that the difference 
 was made up by the increased number of fees. But it was 
 forgotten that the charges and other expenses of a town,
 
 2 14 IX EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 the calls on the priest's purse, were far greater m a populous 
 city than in a country village. 
 
 The house of the clergy was the theatre of stormy scenes, 
 which broke out between the high dignitaries and the cures 
 living on the portion congriie. These latter had a numerical 
 advantage ; they formed a majority of thirty to one. On the 
 evening of the i6th, instead of bearing to the episcopal palace 
 the expression of their deference, they assembled, to the 
 number of three hundred, in a chapel. There, disdaining all 
 moderation of language, a cure of the diocese of Evreux 
 boldly said that the inferior clergy had groaned too long 
 under the oppression of the bishops, and that it was time 
 to shake off a yoke which had become as odious as it was 
 intolerable. A second orator, a cure of the diocese of Lisieux, 
 no less energetically expressed the same opinion. A third 
 priest, having risen to speak, began to defend the episcopate, 
 whereupon he was silenced by the clamour of the throng of 
 priests, and his cassock was torn off his back. When, on 
 the 17th of IMarch, the official deliberation of the clergy was 
 opened at the Seminary of S. Taurinus, the Bishop of Evreux 
 proposed to nominate a secretary, and mentioned his choice ; 
 but his nomination was rejected with a firmness which let 
 him understand that the vast majority of his clergy were 
 antagonistic to his wishes. Every proposition made by this 
 prelate and his colleague met with a similar fate, and the
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 2 1 5 
 
 memorial addressed to the Crown was drawn up without their 
 participation, and in a spirit hostile to the high clergy. 
 
 On March 21, the Bishop of Evreux, smarting under the 
 humiliations to which he was exposed, wrote a letter to 
 M. Necker, Minister of Finances, filled with complaints. It 
 contained the following passage : — ' It is impossible for me, 
 say what I will to them, to keep this assembly of wild, 
 excited curates in control. I am cast, like a Christian of old, 
 ad leones. These priests, calculating on their numbers, are 
 inflated with pride, and bear down all remonstrance. And 
 these are the men we are to send to the States-General, 
 without a shadow of knowledge of our ecclesiastical affairs; 
 without a trace of interest in the maintenance of our pre- 
 rogatives; without a glimmer of sympathy for our rights, 
 jurisdictions, fiefs, and our territorial possessions. They are 
 prepared to overturn everything; they are indifferent to the 
 spoliation of the Church; they are even prepared to hail its 
 disestablishment, if one were fool enough to suggest such a 
 possibility. 
 
 ' The high beneficed clergy are unrepresented ; how can 
 they be otherwise, when the great majority of the deputies 
 are taken from amongst cur^s who have, as a general rule, 
 no interest in defending our properties.? You are too just 
 not to be struck with the inconveniences which this general 
 summons of our clergy to an assembly must drag down on
 
 2i6 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 US, and I venture to hope that in future I shall not be again 
 subjected to the indignity of presiding over a tumultuous 
 and disorderly rout, such as that at present assembled. My 
 zeal for the public welfare, and my devotion to the Crown, 
 have alone sustained me against the outrages I have endured, 
 to the like of which I have never previously been subjected 
 in my diocese.' 
 
 A few days after, the bishop received an answer from 
 M. Necker, couched in these laconic terms : — 
 
 ' IMonseigneur, I grieve to hear of the schism in the assembly 
 under your presidence. But who is to blame if the children 
 revolt against their father ? I have read somewhere the in- 
 junction, which you, my Lord, may also possibly have seen, 
 " Fathers, provoke not your children to wrath." ' 
 
 On the 23rd, the cahiers, or memorials of complaints and 
 recommendations, were completed, and on the 24th the election 
 of deputies took place. In the hall of the Seminary the 
 election of clerical delegates was the scene of the final struggle 
 between the upper and lower clergy, and it was fought with 
 greatest violence. On the preceding evening the bishops had 
 concerted with those clergy on whom they thought they could 
 rely, and had resolved to bring forward M. Parizot de Durand, 
 incumbent of Breteuil, and M. de la Lande, cur^ of Illiers- 
 I'Eveque. The former was a worthy priest, greatly beloved 
 for his piety, exceedingly obstinate in his adhesion to the
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 217 
 
 existing state of affairs, and utterly averse to change in any 
 form. He had a favourite maxim, ' quieta non movere,' which 
 he produced on every possible occasion, and ^vhich was, in 
 fact, the law of his life. It was in vain for those who saw 
 the agitation of mind, and the effervescence of popular feeling, 
 to assure him that nothing was quiet ; the stolid old Con- 
 servative was not to be shaken from his position, and main- 
 tained that this excitement was due to the moving of things 
 hitherto quiet, and that the only cure for it was to reduce 
 them to their former condition of stagnation. 
 
 M. de la Lande was a man of family. He had been ap- 
 pointed in 1765 incumbent of the church of Notre-Dame in 
 Illiers-rEveque ; he was a pluralist, enjoying, in addition, the 
 incumbency of S. IMartin, the second parish in the barony. 
 The collation to these two rich benefices belonged to the 
 Bishop of Evreux, who was lord of Illiers, the barony having 
 been made over to the see by Philip de Cahors in the 
 thirteenth century. M. de la Lande was a courtier, and was 
 often at Versailles. In his parish he was liked as an amiable, 
 easy-going parson, fond of his bottle, and passionately addicted 
 to the chase. 
 
 It was arranged that the bishops and beneficed clergy should 
 not appear prominently as supporting these candidates, but 
 that they should be proposed and seconded by members of 
 the assembly not suspected of being rigid partizans of the
 
 2i8 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 ancien regime. IMonseigneur de Narbonne had given up 
 the hope of being himself elected, and deemed it prudent 
 not to allow his name to be proposed. 
 
 At nine o'clock the Bishop of Evreux took his seat in 
 the hall of the Seminary. The large windows admitted 
 floods of light, and the casements Vv'ere opened to allow 
 the spring air to enter. The snow had wholly disappeared 
 during the last few days, and a breath of vernal air had 
 swept over the land, promising a return of warmth and beauty. 
 The swallows were busy about the tower of S. Taurin; from 
 the bishop's seat the belfry was visible, and the scream of 
 the excited birds that wheeled and darted to and fro was 
 audible. Now and then a jackdaw dashed through the flutter- 
 ing group with a dry stick in its beak, to add to the accu- 
 mulation of years which encumbered the turret stairs. The 
 Cathedral bell summoned the electors, and they came to 
 their assembly-room in groups of two and three, and took 
 their seats in silence. The bishop looked sullen and dis- 
 contented ; he sat rubbing his episcopal ring, breathing on 
 it, and polishing it on his cuff", and then looking out of the 
 window at the birds. His large fleshy cheeks hung down, 
 and their usual beefy redness was changed to an unwhole- 
 some mottle of pink and purple. His barber had not at- 
 tended on him that morning, or the prelate had been too 
 busy to allow himself to be shaved, so that his chin and
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 upper lip presented a rough appearance, which helped to 
 make him look more ill at ease and out of condition than 
 he had during the earlier part of the session. He took no 
 notice of the clergy as they entered, and was regardless of 
 Monsieur de la Ferronnais when he took his place near him. 
 Every now and then he muttered to himself expressions of 
 disgust at the situation in which he was placed, and aspira- 
 tions for a speedy termination to the session. 
 
 ' Good morning, my dear Lord,' said the Bishop of Lisieux, 
 touching his arm. The Bishop of Evreux looked round 
 sulkily, placed his hands on the arms of his chair, and raised 
 himself slightly from the seat. INIonseigneur de la Ferronnais 
 was a bright old man, amiable, fond of fun, not particularly 
 anxious about the turn matters took. He was sure that 'all 
 would come right in the end.' 
 
 ' This is your last day in purgatory,' he said to his 
 colleague. 
 
 ' I thank Heaven,' answered Monseigneur de Narbonne, 
 without looking at him. 
 
 ' You take these troubles too seriously, you lay them too 
 much to heart,' continued the Bishop of Lisieux. ' Let the 
 boys wrangle over their precious cahiers and doleances ; we 
 know very well that they are sops — sops to Cerberus. The 
 Government will never read them, and it pleases the poor 
 fellows to be called to scribble their complaints. Possibly
 
 I.V EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 the charming queen wants curl-papers for the ladies of the 
 Court, and has hit on this sweet expedient of obtaining paper 
 at no personal cost.' 
 
 'I cannot, and will not, stand this much longer,' said the 
 Bishop of Evreux. ' I am like the martyr who was stabbed 
 to death with the styles of his scholars. It is the indignity 
 which I am subjected to that galls me to the quick.' 
 
 ' Put your pride in your pocket,' laughed ]M. de la Ferron- 
 nais. '■ We have long ago learned to pocket our conscience 
 at the bidding of the Crown ; perhaps our self-respect may 
 fill the 'Other pocket, and so balance be preserved.' 
 
 The Bishop of Evreux did not answer. The Cathedral bell 
 had ceased, and, with an expression of impatience and disgust 
 visible to all in the room, he rang his hand-bell and opened 
 the sitting. 
 
 ' Gentlemen,' he said, ' we have before us this day an im- 
 portant duty to fulfil. Let me ask of you to remember that 
 it is not to be undertaken lightly and in a spirit of private 
 pique. You have to elect delegates to the national council. 
 You are hardly aware how great are the issues in the hands 
 of that assembly. If you send men to utter there the wild 
 sentiments you have been pleased to express in your paper 
 to the king, you will revolutionise France and the Church. 
 That there have been, and still exist, abuses in the political 
 and ecclesiastical worlds, I am the last to deny. In times of
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 2 2 1 
 
 great excitement, extreme partizans of change may precipitate 
 the constitution into an abyss from which it would take cen- 
 turies of reconstruction to recover it. You will be good 
 enough to remember that the Church in this land is established, 
 that it enjoys great privileges and possessions; that to wrest 
 from her those possessions would be to leave her suddenly in 
 a condition of destitution for which she is wholly unprovided, 
 and to rob her of her privileges will be to subject her to an 
 indignity from which it is your place to shield her, as your 
 spiritual mother and the bride of Christ. Gendemen, hitherto 
 you have exhibited yourselves as a compact and resolute body 
 of malcontents. I do not use the word in an injurious sense. 
 I say you have exhibited yourselves as malcontents, as dis- 
 satisfied with the existing state of affairs in Church and State. 
 If you wish to have abuses rectified, it will not be by violent 
 men who endeavour to tear down every institution which by 
 its antiquity has become full of rents, but it will be by men of 
 calm judgment and reconstructive ability, who will carefully 
 and reverently restore and re-adapt what is decayed and an- 
 tiquated. I ask of you, then, in the interest of your order, 
 to elect persons of matured judgment and practical experience. 
 It can be no secret to you that the fate of France depends on 
 the attitude assumed by your delegates. The house of the 
 nobility is naturally attached to conservative principles, that 
 of the third estate is liberal and revolutionary. It will be our
 
 /iY EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 mission to arbitrate between these contending interests, on the 
 one side to conciliate the people, and on the other to move 
 the aristocracy to relinquish their most obnoxious privileges, 
 and to lend their shoulders to ease the third estate of the yoke 
 which, it is universally acknowledged, presses upon them 
 unduly. Above all, let us avoid being divided in our own 
 house. We touch both of the other estates. On one hand, 
 we are alhed with the noblesse ; on the other hand, we are 
 attached to the tiers eiat. Through our hierarchy we are in 
 communication with the noble class, through our curates we 
 pulsate with the heart of the unprivileged class. Let not that 
 double union lead to a dissolution of our body, but rather to 
 a harmonization of the other bodies. Onme regjium in seipswji 
 diviswn desolabitur, et domus supra domiim cadet! 
 
 This address, so full of good sense, was not without its effect 
 upon the clergy. Some began to feel that they had been a 
 little too hard on the privileged party in the assembly, and that 
 an attempt at conciliation might now well be made. 
 Jean Lebertre, cure of La Couture, rose and said : 
 ' Monseigneur, and you my fellow-electors, — At the coming 
 assembly of the estates of this realm, it is well that all interests 
 should be represented, — that which desires a redistribution of 
 the funds of the Church, and that which desires that they 
 should remain in the hands of a few as prizes to those who 
 are most diligent and most deserving.'
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 223 
 
 A Voice : ' When are the prizes so given ? ' 
 
 * Well,' continued Lebertre, ' suppose that they are given to 
 the clergy who by birth or political influence have some claim 
 to receive them, what then ? Is not the Church brought into 
 intimate contact with both rich and noble, and poor and com- 
 moner ? If her clergy are to exert influence over those in the 
 highest classes, they must be enabled to move in those classes, 
 and to leaven them. To do so, they must receive an income 
 proportionate to the requirements of such a life. God forbid 
 that the Church should be only the Church of the poor and 
 ignorant; and that she must become, if you rob her of prizes. 
 Educated and intellectual men will not enter her orders unless 
 they are provided with a competency. We country cures do 
 not want wealth ; our lot is cast among the poor, and by being 
 ourselves poor, we have a fellow-feeling for our flock, and our 
 flock have an affection for us. The beneficed clergy, pluralists 
 and commendatory abbots, are wealthy, and are thus enabled 
 to enter into high society, and to infuse into it religious prin- 
 ciples and a love of morality. Take away their means, and 
 you withdraw all spiritual influence from the most powerful, 
 because the highest, stratum of society. I propose as one can- 
 didate for the clergy of this assembly, IM. Parizot de Durand, 
 cure of Breteuil, a priest of unblemished character, and a man 
 of solid common sense.' 
 
 M. de Durand was seconded.
 
 224 
 
 IiV EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 But immediately after, the Abbe Lecerf started up and 
 proposed Thomas Lindet, cure of Bernay. 
 
 Instantly an expression of anger, — a sudden dark cloud, 
 obscured the countenance of the president. 
 
 ' I take it as a deliberate insult to myself, that a man should 
 be proposed to represent the clergy of the diocese who is 
 under inhibition from me,' he said, in a passionate loud tone. 
 
 Monseigneur de la Ferronnais shrugged his shoulders, and 
 tapping the Bishop of Evreux on the back of his hand with his 
 middle finger, said : ' You have made as great a mistake now 
 as you made a great hit by your first speech.' 
 
 That the Bishop of Lisieux was right became at once 
 apparent. Lindet sprang up, on fire, in a blaze. 
 
 ' There, there ! ' he said, stretching out his hands, that 
 quivered with excitement and the vehemence of his utterance ; 
 ' see what he wants you to commit yourselves to — to support 
 the absolute and irresponsible exercise of discipline. Why am 
 I under inhibition } I will tell you all. A friend of the 
 bishop's, then, is a man notorious for his immoralities, a man 
 very great at Court, or be sure he would not be monseigneur's 
 friend. Well, this man attempted to seduce a poor girl, a 
 peasant's daughter. She fled from her seducer, and I pro- 
 tected her, and saved her, at the earnest entreaty of the man's 
 own wife. He thereupon charges me vvith what he himself had 
 failed to do, and the bishop, who is his guest, complaisantly,
 
 IX EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 at his host's request, inhibits me without allowing me a fair 
 hearing, and an open trial.' 
 
 ' Are we going to be pestered with this nonsense here ? ' 
 asked the bishop, angrily. ' I pronounce this not to be the 
 place for such questions to be ventilated.' 
 
 ' What place is '^ ' suddenly asked Lindet, turning upon the 
 prelate ; ' I have asked for a trial, open and fair ; I cannot 
 get one. I have no wish to be your representative, gentlemen ; 
 but what I do wish is, that the whole body of clergy here 
 should protest unanimously against these arbitrary judgments, 
 and insist on impartiality in our judges.' 
 
 He sat down. A murmur of sympathy ran through the 
 crowd. A cure of the town of Evreux sprang up. 
 
 ' How shall we best declare our indignation at the exercise 
 of authority which is unjust and arbitrary ? Surely by electing 
 
 the man who has thus signally been ill-treated. I second the 
 nomination of M. Lindet.' 
 
 * I refuse to put his name to the meeting,' said the bishop. 
 
 ' My brother ! ' exclaimed Monseigneur de la Ferronnais, 
 ' you are throwing everything into their hands. Be cool.' 
 
 ' You are not competent to refuse,' said the Abbe Lecerf 
 ' If you abdicate your place as president, we shall elect another 
 president. As long as you occupy the chair, monseigneur, 
 you must propose whoever is named.' 
 
 ' I contend,' spoke the dean, rising slowly, ' that this pro- 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 2 26 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 posal is indecent. There are certain charges which it is not 
 well should be given to the world, and discussed in public. 
 If the bishop sees fit to exercise his prerogative, and to secretly 
 punish a priest without publishing his reasons, he is perfectly 
 justified in so doing. It is necessary to screen the Church 
 from scandal.' 
 
 ' It is never justice to condemn unheard,' said Lecerf. 
 
 ' We have groaned too long under this arbitrary exercise 
 of power. The bishop may suspend and inhibit any congruist 
 in his diocese,' exclaimed another priest. 'If he chooses, he 
 can at any future occasion, when his gracious Majesty summons 
 us again, — he can, I say, hold the election in his own hands 
 by suspending and inhibiting all those who are Stipendiary 
 curates, and thus throw all the power into the scale of the 
 high clergy.' 
 
 ' It is a question of liberty to elect or of servitude,' shouted 
 another cure. 
 
 ' Gentlemen,' said an old ecclesiastic of Evreux, ' I was 
 present last autumn during a conversation between the bishop's 
 officiel, M. Ponce, and an abbe, whom I see before me, but 
 will not name, — an abbe, gentlemen, whom I have noticed to 
 be exceedingly diligent in whipping up voters on the side of 
 privilege. During the conversation at which I was present, 
 the name of M. Lindet, curd of Bernay, was mentioned. The 
 abbe here present stated that he had heard rumours of the
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 227 
 
 intention of some of the clergy of the deanery of Bernay to 
 make an attempt to nominate M. Lindet as a distinguished 
 upholder of liberal opinions, and as a priest of much experience 
 and of great influence. The officer of monseigneur, sitting 
 yonder in the chair, replied to this that he had discussed the 
 matter with the bishop, and that they had agreed to stop the 
 nomination at all ventures. M. Ponce suggested an inhibition, 
 and he said that the bishop had sent him to Bernay to find 
 some excuse for serving one on the unfortunate cure of that 
 parish. I address myself to his Lordship, our president. 
 Let him deny this if he dares. If he does deny it, I shall 
 at once mention the name of the abbe whom I heard in 
 conversation with the officiel! 
 
 A storm was instantly evoked : some clamoured for the 
 name, others called on the bishop to answer, and others 
 cried ' Shame, shame ! ' 
 
 ' Let the name of M. Lindet be put to the meeting ? ' asked 
 the same old priest. ' His Lordship is sullen. Rise, all who 
 vote for M. Lindet.' 
 
 Instantly five or six hundred electors sprang up and waved 
 their hands above their heads. 
 
 * Those in favour of M. Durand, stand up.' 
 
 There was a clatter, as the voters for the inhibited priest sat 
 down, and about fifty stood up. 
 
 * Take the numbers,' rose in a shout from the others. 
 
 Q 2
 
 2 28 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 
 
 Monseigneur de la Ferronnais held his superior by the arm, or 
 the Bishop of Evreux would have left the room in a fury. 
 
 ' For Heaven's sake!' exclaimed he, 'do be calm. Accept 
 this vote, and you will get your own man in as the second 
 delegate.' 
 
 ' I will have nothing more to say to this assembly of ruffians,' 
 said the Bishop of £vreux, wrenching his hand away. 
 
 * I beseech you remain here.' 
 
 ' Not another moment,' he said, rising. 
 There burst from the mass of priests a shout ; 
 ' He has vacated the chair ! ' 
 
 ' Let the Bishop of Lisieux take it ! ' cried the Abbe Lecerf. 
 ' The Bishop of Lisieux in the chair ! Long live the new 
 president ! ' 
 
 Monseigneur de la Ferronnais looked at the Bishop of Evreux- 
 ' What is to be done V he asked. 
 
 * Take the chair, in God's name,' answered the president, 
 thrusting it towards him ; ' I will not remain here another 
 moment.' 
 
 * You must indeed remain,' said the Bishop of Lisieux, 
 ' unless you are inclined to pass through all those infuriated 
 priests to the door. There is no side entrance to be used 
 as an easy mode of exit.' 
 
 Monseigneur de Narbonne scowled down the hall; his colleague 
 was right, and he seated himself in the chair of his suffragan.
 
 IX EX ITU ISRAEL 229 
 
 The Bishop of Lisieux rose to the occasion. As he took 
 the place of the late president a smile illumined his face— a 
 smile full of good humour, which was at once reflected from 
 every face in the saloon. 
 
 'Be quiet, you babies!' he said, stretching his right hand 
 towards the ranks of discontented priests ; and then he laughed 
 a bright, ringing laugh, full of freshness. 
 
 Instantly it was echoed from every part of the room. 
 
 ' I was once in Spain,' began Monseigneur de la Ferronnais ; 
 — Monseigneur de Narbonne winced ; — ' I was once in Spain, 
 at the city of Pampeluna. I found a crowd of people hurrying 
 to the great square before the principal church. What did they 
 rush there for? To see a bull baited. I returned to France. 
 I stayed a day or two in the cathedral town of Bayonne. 
 I found the city assembled on the quay of the Adour. Where- 
 fore } To enjoy the sport of bear-baiting. Gentlemen ! I 
 have seen a bull baited, I have seen a bear baited, but never 
 till this day have I witnessed the baiting of a bishop.' 
 
 He spoke with emphasis, and with that ease of gesture which 
 a Frenchman knows so well how to make good use of. His 
 words raised a storm of laughter and cheers. The Bishop of 
 l^vreux writhed in his chair. His suffragan turned towards 
 him, extended his arms as though to embrace him, laid his 
 head on one side, and in a tone full of commiseration said : 
 ' He is down ! shall we spare him .^ In the arena of ancient
 
 230 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 Rome, the gladiator who fell elevated the index of his right hand 
 
 to ask pity of the spectators 1 see—' Monseigneur de 
 
 Narbonne had his hand up to stop his colleague, but at the 
 allusion, he instantly withdrew it with a frown. ' Now, my good 
 spectators, who are also his assailants, do you stand presso 
 or verso pollice ? That is right! You are spared, my Lord 
 Bishop of Evreux.' 
 
 He seated himself with rapid motion, and crossed his legs ; 
 then, composing his face, he said : 
 
 ' I suppose I need not have voting-papers upon M. Lindet. 
 It is hardly necessary for me to put his name before you again, 
 but we must proceed formally. ]\I. Lindet has been proposed 
 by the Abbe Lecerf, and seconded by I\L Rigaud. Those in 
 favour of INI. Lindet, hold up their hands.' 
 
 He counted the raised palms, collectedly, rank by rank, 
 requesting each row when counted to lower their hands. 
 
 * Those opposed to ]NL Lindet, hold up their hands.' 
 
 In a minute, he declared Thomas Lindet elected delegate 
 to the National Assembly. 
 
 ' Now, gentlemen,' said the president, ' I wish in no way 
 to influence your votes in other ways than that of sobriety 
 and consideration. You must remember that the Church will 
 not be fairly represented at the States-General, if those in 
 the enjoyment of benefices be wholly excluded. Choose for 
 your second delegate one as liberal, nay, as revolutionary in
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 
 
 231 
 
 his views as you please, but pray choose one who may 
 represent the moneyed interests of the Church. I leave it to 
 your sense of justice and propriety.' 
 
 This little speech was received with hearty applause. 
 
 M. de la Lande was proposed, seconded, and carried almost 
 unanimously. 
 
 The Bishop of Lisieux turned to his angry brother prelate, 
 and whispered : 
 
 ' Now we have got your own man in. You see what may 
 be done with good-humour. If you had attempted to browbeat 
 those cur^s any longer, they would have elected as their second 
 representative a more furious democrat than even Lindet 
 himself.' 
 
 * I have had humiliations enough to bear without being made 
 the butt of your jokes before a rabble,' answered Monseigneur 
 de Narbonne, sullenly. 
 
 — :<-<^-:<r
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Gabrielle had found a temporary asylum at the house of 
 Robert Lindet, the lawyer. Robert lived in a small villa, with 
 his brother Peter, on the side of the road to Brionne and 
 Rouen. The house stood back from the dusty highway, with 
 a long strip of garden before it, and a high wall completely 
 shutting it off from the road. A row of trees occupied one 
 side of the garden, ending in a green ivy-covered arbour, in 
 which no one ever sat, as it occupied an angle in the high 
 walls, and commanded no view, and was by its position ex- 
 cluded from air and light. 
 
 The garden was poor. Two little patches of flowers — 
 larkspur and escholtzia and white lilies — were nearly the only 
 ones that grew in it; the two former sowed themselves, and 
 the latter remained where it had been planted in Robert's 
 youth. The rest of the garden was turf. On it stood a 
 hutch of white rabbits with black noses, which were constantly 
 escaping over the garden and destroying the flowers. The 
 house front consisted of two parts, the portion occupied by 
 the lawver and his brother, and that sriven over to the cook
 
 IX EX ITU ISRAEL, 233 
 
 and kitchen, which latter portion was an incongruous adjunct 
 to the trim little house. The kitchen was on the ground-floor, 
 and a ladder staircase in the open air gave access to the bed- 
 room above. 
 
 The house — little altered — is at present the abode of the 
 Chaplain to the Convent of the Sisters of the Blessed Sacra- 
 ment. 
 
 The lower rooms of the house being turned into offices, the 
 brothers were wont, in cold weather, to sit over the fire in the 
 kitchen, where Gabrielle presided. 
 
 Gabrielle was not happy. That last piercing cry of her 
 protectress and friend, Madame Berthier, had entered her 
 heart, and stuck there like a barbed arrow. As she lay 
 awake at night, she thought of the huge prison, dark and 
 cold, down whose passages no sunbeams streamed, and of the 
 poor lady alone there, in solitude and despair. During the 
 day she thought of her, — of the cold she must feel in her cell, 
 of the deprivation of scenes of beauty and life. ' I ought to 
 do something for her, but what can I do!' She asked those 
 who knew anything about Paris whether there would be a 
 possibiUty of her obtaining admission to the Bastille, to wait 
 upon the prisoner, but they all replied with a shake of the head. 
 
 On March 25th, Etienne Percenez was sitting in the kitchen 
 with the brothers Lindet, whilst Gabrielle washed dishes and 
 forks and spoons at the sink in the window.
 
 2 34 ^^y EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 The conversation had run upon the political movements 
 of the day, the abuses needing correction, the rights of the 
 people which required acknowledgment. Gabrielle had lis- 
 tened without much interest, and the names of Necker, Artois, 
 Sartines, De Brienne, &c., had entered- her ear without attract- 
 ing her attention, when all at once it was arrested by a remark 
 of the colporteur : 
 
 ' The Bastille and the lettres-de-cachet ! Have they been 
 protested against ?' 
 
 ' The time has not come,'* said Robert Lindet ; ' our cahiers 
 mention grievances of which we are personally cognizant. 
 When the States-general meet, then every nook and cranny 
 of the old 7'egime will be searched and swept out.' 
 
 'What can be more iniquitous than the lettre-de-cachet .''' 
 asked Percenez ; * the king gives blank forms for any one to 
 fill in, and thus lives and liberties are sacrificed without trial. 
 Saint-Florentin gave away fifty-thousand. What became of 
 these blank orders of imprisonment } They were matters of 
 traffic ; fathers were shut up by their sons, husbands by their 
 wives; Government clerks, their mistresses, and the friends 
 of the mistresses, — any pretty woman of easy virtue incon- 
 venienced by a strait-laced husband or father or mother, with 
 a little civility, flattery, money, could get these terrible orders 
 by which to bury those they desired to get rid of.' 
 
 ' And sometimes,' said Robert, ' the Bastille was an easy
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 235 
 
 payment of a State debt. The Baron and Baroness Beausoleil 
 spent their fortune and their time in opening valuable mines. 
 When all their wealth was gone, they applied to Richelieu for 
 payment, or at least a recognition of their services. The 
 recognition was accorded them. They were shut up for life 
 in the Bastille, apart from one another, and separated for 
 ever from their children ! ' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' exclaimed Peter ; ' this is too bad. You know that 
 the king had abolished these lettres-de-cachet. Why do you 
 rake up old grievances which are long dead?' 
 
 'Dead grievances!' said Stephen Percenez; 'you forget, 
 Monsieur Pierre, they are only asleep, not dead. It is true 
 Louis XVI has forbidden the incarceration of any one at the 
 request of their families, without a well-grounded reason. 
 But who is to be judge of the soundness of the reason } 
 And who forced him to decree that.^ — Madame Legros.' 
 
 'Madame Legros!' said Gabrielle, coming forward; 'tell 
 me, who was she?' 
 
 ' Did you never hear of Latude ?' asked Percenez. 
 
 ' Never,' answered Gabrielle. ' Was he a prisoner ?' 
 
 ' Yes, for thirty-four years in Bicetre and the Bastille, thrown 
 into the worst dungeons, by the spite of a woman — a harlot, 
 Madame de Pompadour. He wrote his appeals for mercy, and 
 pardon for crimes he had never committed, on rags, in his 
 own blood ; then they buried him in holes underground with-
 
 236 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 out light, where he spent long years in domesticating rats. 
 Once a memorial addressed to some philanthropist or other — 
 one memorial out of a hundred, was lost by a drunken jailer— a 
 woman picked it up. That woman was a poor mercer, who 
 sat stitching in her shop door. She picked up the fluttering 
 sheet and read it, and resolved to liberate the miserable 
 sufferer.' 
 
 Gabrielle bent forward, with her eyes fixed on the 
 speaker. 
 
 ' What did she do ? ' she asked, eagerly. 
 
 ' What did she not do } ' returned Etienne Percenez ; ' she 
 worried every great man to whom she could obtain access 
 with her story of the wrongs of Latude, and his sufferings 
 in prison. She consecrated her life to his. All kinds of 
 misfortune beset her, but she held firmly to her cause. Her 
 husband remonstrated with her — he called her enthusiasm 
 folly, for her business failed, as well it might, when her time 
 was spent in seeking audiences with great Lords and high 
 Churchmen, and when her attention was fixed on something 
 other than caps and gowns. Her father died, then her mother. 
 Slanderous tales were raised about her : it was asserted that 
 she was the mistress of the prisoner, for whose liberation she 
 laboured, and sacrificed all. The police threatened her; but 
 she remained invincible. The story of Latude's sufferings 
 and of ^Madame Legros' self-devotion spread through France,
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 237 
 
 whispered from one to another. In the depths of winter, on 
 foot, far advanced in pregnancy, the brave woman set out 
 for Versailles, resolved to appeal at head-quarters. She 
 found a femme de chambre inclined to take her memorial to 
 the queen, but an abbe passing snatched it from her hand, 
 and tore it up, bidding her not attempt to meddle. Cardinal 
 de Rohan — he, you know, who was concerned in the affair of 
 the necklace — was good-natured, and he endeavoured to move 
 Louis XVI to pardon Latude — pardon him for what ? for having 
 in some way caused annoyance to his grandfather's mistress ; 
 in what way ? — nobody knows. Three times the king refused 
 to pardon and liberate this man whose life had been wasted 
 in a prison. At last, in 1784, Madame Legros had so worked 
 on public opinion, that the king was forced to release him. 
 You see what woman can do ! ' 
 
 Gabrielle raised her eyes and hands to heaven. 
 
 ' ]\Iay God enable me to do the same for Madame Berthier !' 
 she cried. 
 
 "■ There now, Etienne,' said Robert, with a curl of the lip ; 
 ' you have applied a match to a barrel of gunpowder.' 
 
 ' Ah ! if it were to blow down the walls of the Bastille ! ' said 
 the pedlar, shaking his brown head. 
 
 'Dear friend,' said the girl, laying her hand on Percenez' 
 arm ; ' she who saved me in my hour of deepest need, she 
 who stood between me and ruin, is now in that awful place.
 
 238 nv EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 Her last cry was to me to save her. Tell me, what can 
 I do?' 
 
 * Nothing, absolutely nothing, except washing up dishes,' 
 answered Robert Lindet. 
 
 She did not attend to him, but looked straight into Percenez' 
 eyes. The girl was so beautiful, so earnest and enthusiastic, 
 that the colporteur gazed on her with admiration, and did 
 not answer. 
 
 ' I must do something," she proceeded to say ; ' I hear her 
 voice calling me, night and day. That cry of " Gabrielle, save 
 me ! '■ haunts me. I am tortured with inactivity.' 
 
 ' ]\Iy good girl,' Robert observed, ' there is not the slightest 
 occasion for inactivity. There are the floors to be scoured, 
 and the cobwebs to be brushed away, and the dishes to be 
 washed.' 
 
 ' Good, kind master ! ' cried the srirl, turning^ to him : ' vou 
 have received me when I was homeless. But did I not 
 tell you that I could not remain in your service ? I warned 
 you that I had something to do that must be done ' 
 
 ' Fudge ! ' said the lawyer. ' You women are highflown, 
 crazy creatures. You can do nothing for Madame Berthier; 
 content yourself with the certainty of that, and stick to your 
 kitchen-work, or, if you like it better, feed the rabbits.' 
 
 Percenez smiled. A smile on his rugged brown countenance 
 was rare, and it had meaning whenever it appeared.
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 239 
 
 ' Excuse me, M, Lindet/ he said ; ' I have faith in 
 enthusiasm. Before that every barrier goes down. It is 
 absolutely unconquerable/ 
 
 'Enthusiasm is faith run to extravagance/ answered the 
 lawyer. ' Enthusiasm is good for a dash, but it is not fit for 
 continuous work. Enthusiasm would level a mountain, but 
 it would never reconstruct it.' 
 
 ' Hark ! ' exclaimed Peter, holding up his finger. 
 
 The others were silent and listened. They heard the bells 
 of S. Cross pealing merrily. 
 
 ' What can be the occasion } ' asked Percenez. 
 
 Peter took his pipe out of his mouth, and walked slowly 
 into the garden. Robert and Stephen followed him. From 
 the high stone wall the clamour of the bells was echoed 
 noisily. 
 
 ' It is very odd,' said Robert ; ' what can be the reason ? ' 
 
 At that moment the garden- door opened, and M. Lamy, 
 one of the curates {vicaires) of Bernay, rushed in, his face 
 beaming with pleasure. 
 
 ' Well ! what is the news ? ' asked Percenez. 
 
 * The best, the very best of news,' answered the priest. 
 ' M. Thomas Lindet is elected delegate of the clergy to the 
 Estates-general.' 
 
 * An enthusiast,' said Robert, with a smile aside to 
 Percenez.
 
 240 IX EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 ' Ah ! M. Robert, and it is just his enthusiasm which has 
 taken him ahead of all the rest of the class, and turned him 
 into a delegate/ 
 
 Whilst Robert and Peter talked with M. Lamy, the little 
 brown colporteur turned back to the kitchen, and said to 
 Gabrielle : ' Well, what about your protectress ? ' 
 
 ']\Iy friend,' answered Gabrielle, earnestly and vehemently; 
 ' I shall go to Paris, if I go on foot, and I shall see what 
 can be done. I will implore the queen on my knees to use 
 her influence to obtain the release of Madame Berthier.' 
 
 ' You forget ; that lady is not shut up as a political offender, 
 but because she is insane.' 
 
 ' I will do what I can,' answered the girl, simply. ' She 
 has no one else to assist her — no one else to speak for her.' 
 
 'You are only a peasant-girl.' 
 
 ' Well ! what was Madame Legros ? ' 
 
 'Are you resolved.?' 
 
 She put her hand on her heart. 
 
 ' I must go,' she said. ' I have no rest here. I shall have 
 no rest till I have done my utmost.' 
 
 ' Paris is a dangerous place for a young and pretty maiden.' 
 
 ' Ah ! Monsieur Etienne, the good God, who raised up a 
 protectress for me in my need before, will deliver me in any 
 future peril' 
 
 ' What have you to live upon in Paris ? ^
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 241 
 
 ' I do not know.' 
 
 'You must bear in mind that great distress exists there, 
 that money is scarce and provisions are dear.' 
 
 ' God will provide.' 
 
 ' He will provide if He calls you there, not otherwise.' 
 
 ' Is it not His call that I hear now ? ' asked the girl, her 
 face brightening with enthusiasm. ' ]My friend, my father's 
 friend, listen to me. There is a something within me, I 
 cannot tell you what it is, which draws me from this place 
 after my dear, unfortunate madame. Only yesterday I was 
 walking in the wood above La Couture. I went to pray at 
 a crucifix which I well know, for it was there that M. Lindet 
 first stood my champion against him whom I will not name. 
 I prayed there — I cannot tell you for how long, and I asked 
 for a sign— a sign what I was to do.' She paused timidly, 
 dropped her eyes, and continued in a whisper: 'Whilst 1 
 was on my knees, all on an instant I felt something leap 
 upon my shoulder.' 
 
 ' Well, child, what was it } ' asked Percenez with a smile. 
 
 ' It was jMadame Berthier's yellow cat, it looked so lean and 
 neglected, and its yellow dye was nearly worn off it. It knew 
 me, for it rubbed its head against my cheek.' 
 
 ' Nonsense, Gabrielle, do you call that a sign .? ' 
 
 ' Yes, JMonsieur Etienne, it was a sign to me. It would 
 not have been so to anyone else, may be, but I know what 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 that cat was to the poor lady, I know what she suffers 
 now in being separated from it; and, if it were only to 
 restore her cat to her, I would walk barefoot all the way 
 to Paris.' 
 
 'I suspect the only success you will meet with will be 
 that.' 
 
 'Well, and that will be something/ 
 
 'You are a resolute girl/ 
 
 'Monsieur !Rtienne, I viust go/ 
 
 'Why so?' 
 
 ' If I did not go, I should die/ 
 
 The little brown man looked fixedly at her, and then said : 
 
 ' Gabrielle, I have known you from a little girl. I am 
 going to Paris. Like you, I must go. I am fixed with a 
 desire to see the working out of this great problem, the 
 States-General. Gabrielle ! the French people are like your 
 Madame Berthier, chained and in prison. I do not know 
 whether my feeble voice will avail to effect their release. 
 You do not know whether yours will liberate one individual 
 out of that great suffering family. Well ! we go in hope, 
 vague may be, but earnest, and resolved to do our best. 
 We shall go together.' 
 
 'What do you say, monsieur?' 
 
 'I will go and visit my sister, Madame Deschwanden, and 
 shall take you with me. We shall see what takes place.'
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 243 
 
 * You will help me to get to Paris ? ' 
 
 'Yes, I will.' 
 
 Miaw ! The yellow cat, which had been asleep in a corner, 
 was now wide awake, and at a bound had reached Gabrielle's 
 shoulder. 
 
 How merrily in Gabrielle's ear sounded the bells of S. Cross ! 
 
 ••<^*&^^at^:— 
 
 '^-^^i^ 
 
 B a
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Old Paris is no more. Every day some feature of the 
 ancient capital disappears. This is a commonplace remark. 
 Everyone says it; but few realize how true it is. We, who 
 revisit that queen of cities after an interval of — say, ten years, 
 see mighty changes. Streets are open where were houses 
 once; markets have altered their sites; squares occupy the 
 place where we remember piles of decaying houses; churches 
 appear, where we did not know that they stood, so buried 
 were they in high, many-storied houses. 
 
 We can breathe in Paris now. Down the boulevards the 
 breeze can now rustle and sweep away the stale odours which 
 once hung all the year round ancient Paris. 
 
 But we have no conception of what that capital was in 
 1789. Paris had grown without system. None had drawn 
 out a plan of what it was to be, where the streets were to 
 run, and where squares were to open. The thoroughfares 
 had come by chance, without order, without law, almost 
 without object ; the streets twisted and wound their way 
 between walls black with smoke, and overhanging; the
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 245 
 
 houses, with their feet in mud and garbage, and their heads 
 in smoke, stood sideways to the road, as though they turned 
 away to avoid a disagreeable sight and odour. Their narrow 
 front to the street was topped with a high-pitched gable, 
 unless some modern architect had squared it off. Here and 
 there were cemeteries adjoining markets, a refuse heap on 
 which lay dead animals in putrefaction, nooks, where beggars 
 crouched in rags, blind alleys in which squalid children played, 
 open sewers, and pubHc cesspools. 
 
 The Seine, spanned by five bridges encumbered with low 
 vessels moored head and stern, out of which the washer- 
 women cleaned their dirty linen, resembled a wide stagnant 
 ditch. The fall being slight, the river but leisurely carried 
 off the filth from the sewers, the soap from the washing- 
 boats, and the dye that flowed into it from the factories. 
 Add to this the slops and sewage of the Hotel Dieu, which 
 contained six thousand patients suffering from all the loath- 
 some disorders to which human nature is subject, and one can 
 appreciate the hoji-mot of Foote, when he was asked by a 
 Parisian whether he had such a river in London, ' No, we 
 had such an one, but we stopped it up (alluding to the 
 Fleet Ditch) ; at present, we have only the Thames.' 
 
 Beneath the Pont Notre Dame, a net was every night let 
 down to stop the bodies of drowned men, and of such as 
 were murdered and thrown into the river.
 
 246 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 
 
 At seven in the morning, twice a week, a bell was rung 
 through the streets for the inhabitants to sweep before their 
 houses; but for this, there would have been no possibility of 
 walking, there being no foot-way. 
 
 Gabrielle and the little brown Percenez entered Paris on the 
 28th of April. The streets, crowded with people, astonished 
 the girl. Her eyes turned with wonder from side to side. 
 The height of the houses, the intricacy of the streets, the 
 antiquity of the buildings, the number of crossings, shops, 
 coffee-houses, stalls, were such as she had never seen before. 
 Her ears were assailed by the cries of fruiterers and pedlars 
 of all sorts with their carts, and by the rattle and rumble of 
 wheels upon the stone pavement. As a coach drove by, the 
 girl and her conductor stepped up against the wall, there 
 being no footway; when a couple of carriages met, it was 
 often difficult to avoid being run over. The hackney coaches, 
 distinguished then, as they are now, by numbers in yellow 
 painted on their backs, jolted past in shoals. Uneasy, dirty 
 vehicles they were, with a board slung behind the coach- 
 box, upon which the driver stood. Trim little sedan chairs 
 on wheels some thirty inches high, dragged by a man be- 
 tween shafts like the handles of a wheelbarrow, dived in and 
 out among the stalls and carriages, and rattled jauntily and 
 expeditiously along. Sometimes a grand coach, behind which 
 were suspended footmen in livery, with long white staves,
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 247 
 
 rolled down solemnly and slowly, scattering the hucksters and 
 sedan chairs, as a hawk disperses a flight of sparrows. 
 
 'Do you notice, Gabrielle,' said Percenez, 'the wheels of 
 the private carriages are girt with tires made in small pieces, 
 whilst the hired fiacres have their wheels girt with hoops 
 of iron in one piece? You would be surprised, little girl, 
 how much envy the jointed tires excite ; for only gentlemen 
 of birth are entitled to use them.' 
 
 'Are we going the right way, IMonsieur Etienne.'" asked 
 Gabrielle, timidly, for she was so bewildered by the novelty 
 of her position, that she thought the streets of Paris a tangle 
 in which none could fail to lose the way. 
 
 'Be not afraid, we are bound for the street S. Antoine. 
 I know the road. I was here only five years ago, and Paris 
 is not a place to change in a hurry.' 
 
 Just then they heard a body of voices shouting a song. 
 Gabrielle looked round, and exclaimed : — 
 
 ' Oh, Monsieur Etienne, here is a great mob advancing. 
 What is to be done?' 
 
 'Do not be afraid/ answered the little man; 'Hsten, what 
 is it they are chanting ? ' 
 
 The words were audible. As the band approached, every 
 man, woman, and child joined in the song : — 
 
 ' Vive le tiers etat de France ! 
 II aura la preponderance
 
 248 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 Sur le prince, sui- le prdlat. 
 Ahi ! povera nobilita ! 
 Le pldb^ien, puits de science, 
 En lumieres, en experience, 
 Surpasse le pretre et magistrat, 
 Ahi ! povera nobilita ! ' 
 
 Percenez took off his hat, and waved it with a cheer. 
 
 On they came, a legion, a billow of human beings, bearing 
 before them an effigy, raised aloft, of a large man with a 
 white waistcoat, a snuff-coloured coat, a powdered wig, and 
 wearing a decoration, the cordoji-tioir. The figure rocked 
 upon the shoulders of the men who carried it, and the by- 
 standers hooted and laughed. Away before the mob flew 
 the hackney coaches and the wheeled chairs, like the ' povera 
 nobilita' escaping from the rising people. Heads appeared 
 at the windows; from some casements kerchiefs were flut- 
 tered; from most, faces looked down without expressing 
 special interest or enthusiasm. 
 
 The litde brown colporteur caught the sleeve of a man 
 who sold onions. 
 
 ' What effigy is that ? ' he asked. 
 
 ' That is Rdveillon,' was the answer. 
 
 'And who is he.?' 
 
 ' A paper-maker.' 
 
 ' Why are the mob incensed against him V
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 249 
 
 ' He has made a great fortune, and is now bent on reducing 
 the wages of his workmen/ 
 
 'Is that all?' 
 
 ' And he has received, or is about to receive, a decoration/ 
 
 Percenez shrugged his shoulders ; the onion-seller did the 
 same. 
 
 'Monsieur Etienne !' said Gabrielle, timidly; 'do let us 
 retire before this crowd. It will swallow us up.' 
 
 'You are right, child; we will get out of the way. I have 
 no interest in this affair.' 
 
 He drew her back into a large doorway with a wicket gate 
 in it. They stepped through this wicket into the carriage- 
 way to the yard within. A violent barking saluted them. 
 At the same moment, a gendeman emerged upon one of 
 the galleries that surrounded the court, and, leaning on the 
 balcony, called — 
 
 ' Gustave !' 
 
 'Eh, monsieur?' exclaimed the porter, starting from his 
 room. 
 
 ' Shut and lock the door, before the mob come up.' 
 
 Percenez and Gabrielle recognised the voice and face of 
 Berthier. Before Gustave could fasten the gate, the girl 
 dragged her companion back into the street ; in another 
 moment they were caught in the advancing wave, and swept 
 onwards towards the Faubourg S. Antoine.
 
 250 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 What followed passed as a dream. Gabrielle saw rough 
 faces on all sides of her, wild eyes, bushy beards and mous- 
 taches. She heard the roar of hoarse voices chanting; she 
 felt the thrust and crush around her, and her feet moved 
 rapidly, otherwise she would have fallen and been trodden 
 down. She clung to Percenez, and the litde man held her 
 hand tightly in his own. It was strange to Gabrielle after- 
 wards to remember distinctly a host of objects, trivial in 
 themselves, which impressed themselves on her memory in 
 that march. There was a man before her with a blue hand- 
 kerchief tied over his hat and under his chin. The corner 
 of this kerchief hung down a little on the right, and Gabrielle 
 would have had it exactly in the middle. The green coat 
 of a fellow bearing a pole and an extemporized flag attached 
 to it, had been split up the back and mended with brown 
 thread. In one place only was the thread black. Gabrielle 
 remembered the exact spot in the coat where the brown 
 thread ended and the black thread began. The great man 
 who marched on her left had a botde of leeches in his hand, 
 and he was filled with anxiety to preserve the glass from 
 being broken. How came he among the crowd .f* Gabrielle 
 wondered, and formed various conjectures. He was very 
 careful of his leeches, but also very determined to remain 
 in the midst of the throng. Above the heads and hats and 
 caps rocked the image of the paper manufacture*^ and
 
 IN EXirU ISRAEL. 251 
 
 Gabrielle saw the arms flap and swing, as it was jerked from 
 side to side by the bearers. A dead cat whizzed through 
 the air, and struck the effigy on the head, knocking the 
 three-cibrnered hat sideways. The mob shouted and stood 
 still. Then one of the men who preceded them with a ban- 
 ner laid his pole across the street, and shouted for the cat. 
 It was tossed over the heads of the people, and he picked 
 it up and attached it to the neck of the image of Reveillon. 
 Then he reared his banner again, and the crowd flowed 
 along as before. 
 
 Gabrielle took advantage of the halt to peep into a basket 
 she carried on her arm. As she raised the lid, a paw was 
 protruded, and a plaintive miaw announced to her that the 
 yellow cat she had brought with her was tired of its im- 
 prisonment, and alarmed at the noise. 
 
 All at once the pressure on every side became less, the rioters 
 had moved out of the narrow street into an open space. The 
 girl looked up. Before her rose dark massive towers, — she 
 could see five at a glance ; one stood at an angle towards the 
 street, drums of towers crenelated at top, and capped with 
 pepper-boxes for the sentinels. The walls were pierced at 
 rare intervals with narrow slits. One window only, of mode- 
 rate dimensions, was visible, and that was high up in the 
 angle-tower, oblong, narrow, cut across with a huge stone 
 transdm, and netted over with iron stanchions. The walls
 
 252 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 
 
 were black with age and smoke. The sunlight that fell 
 upon them did not relieve their tint, but marked them with 
 shadows black as night. 
 
 Adjoining the street was a high wall, against which were 
 built shops and taverns. These, however, ceased to en- 
 cumber the wall near the gate, which was in the Italian 
 style, low pedimented, and adorned with the arms of France 
 in a shield. Through slits on either side moved the great 
 beams of the drawbridge. 
 
 As Gabrielle looked, awe-struck, at this formidable building, 
 she heard the clank of chains and the creak of a windlass, 
 and slowly the great arms rose and carried up with them 
 a bridge that shut over the mouth of the gate, as though 
 there were secrets within which might not be uttered in the 
 presence of that crowd. 
 
 The mob fell into line before the gate and moat that pro- 
 tected it, facing it with threatening looks. All at once, with 
 a roar Hke that of an advancing tidal wave, there burst from 
 the mob, with one consent, the curse — 'Down with the 
 Bastille!' 
 
 Then the}" faced round again, and rushed upon the factory 
 of R^veillon, situated under the towers of the terrible fortress. 
 
 'Up to the lanthorn!' 
 
 The cry was responded to by a general shout. In another 
 moment a rope was flung over the chain stretched across
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 253 
 
 the street from which the lanthorn Hghting the street was 
 suspended, and the t^gy of Reveillon dangled in the air. 
 This execution was greeted with yells of applause; men and 
 women joined hands and danced under the figure. Some 
 threw sticks and stones at it; these falling on the heads of 
 the spectators, added to the confusion. At last, a young 
 man, catching the legs of the image, mounted it, and seated 
 himself astride on the shoulders. He removed the three- 
 cornered hat and wig and placed them on his own head, 
 amidst laughter and applause. The strain upon the lanthorn- 
 chain was, however, too great, and one of the links yielding 
 at the moment when the youth stood upon Reveillon's 
 shoulders and began a dance, he, the effigy, and the lan- 
 thorn were precipitated into the street. What became of 
 the man nobody knew, and nobody cared; the image was 
 danced upon and trodden into the dirt; the lanthorn was 
 shivered to pieces, and the glass cut the feet of those who 
 trampled on it. 
 
 The factory doors were shut and barred ; the windows 
 were the same. The rioters hurled themselves against the 
 great gates, which were studded with iron, but they could not 
 burst them open. Some shouted for fire, others for a beam 
 which might be driven against them, and so force them open. 
 But the banner-bearer in the green coat stitched with black 
 and brown thread laid his pole against tie side of the house,
 
 2 54 ^^y EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 swarmed up it, axe in hand, and smote lustily at the shut- 
 ters of one of the windows. The splinters flew before his 
 strokes, and soon one of the valves broke from its hinges, 
 and slid down the wall. Next minute, the green man was 
 inside, waving his hat to the people, who cheered in response. 
 
 They fell back from the door. Another man crept in at the 
 broken window, and joined the fellow who had cut his way 
 through the shutter. The two together unfastened the door, 
 and the mob poured into Reveillon's factory. Adjoining was 
 the house of Reveillon. Its doors were forced open at the same 
 time as the paper-making establishment. The private entrance 
 to an upper storey of the workshops from the house was burst 
 by those in the factory, and the mob crowding in from the 
 street met that breaking in from above. The besiegers having 
 now taken complete possession, and meeting with no resistance 
 (for Reveillon had taken refuge in the Bastille, and his servants 
 had fled,) they spread themselves over the premises from attic 
 to cellar. The workmen lately employed to make and dye the 
 paper were foremost in breaking the machinery, and in tapping 
 the large vats in which the white pulp lay, thus flooding the 
 floors with what looked like curdled milk. Some descended 
 to the cellars and drank the wine stored for Reveillon's table, 
 others drank the dyes, mistaking them for wine, and rolled in 
 agony in the whey-like fluid on the ground, spluttering out the 
 crimson and green liquors they had imbibed. Those who had
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 axes, and those who had armed themselves with fragments of 
 the machinery, smashed mirrors, tables, pictures, broke open 
 drawers and destroyed all the movables within reach, and then 
 flung them through the windows among the crowd below. 
 Among other objects discovered was a portrait in oils of R^- 
 veillon ; this was literally minced up by the rioters, who waxed 
 more furious as they found material on which to expend their 
 rage. Two men, armed with a great saw, began to cut through 
 the main rafters of the great room of the factory. When those 
 who thronged this appartement saw what was taking place, 
 they were filled with panic, and rushed to the door, or flung 
 themselves out of the windows, to escape being trampled down 
 by those behind. Some, entering the rag-store, rent open the 
 bales, and strewed the tatters about in all directions. One 
 man — it was he with the leeches — holding his bottle, still un- 
 emptied and unbroken, in one hand, appHed a torch to the 
 rag-heaps, and set the store in a blaze ; others fired the ware- 
 house of paper. Flames issued from the cellars of Reveillon's 
 house. It was apparent to all the rioters within, that, unless 
 they made a speedy exit, they would perish in the fire. In- 
 stantly a rush was made to the doors. As they poured through 
 them, a horizontal flash of light darted into their eyes, followed 
 by a rattling discharge, and several of the foremost rioters 
 rolled on the pavement. 
 
 Late in the day, when all the mischief was done, a regiment
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 of Grenadiers had been ordered to the spot by the com- 
 mandant of that quarter of the to^Yn, ]\I. de Chatelet. 
 
 The mob replied to the volley by hurling paving-stones, 
 broken pieces of Reveillon's furniture, iron fragments of the 
 machinery ; in short, anything ready at hand. 
 
 The man with the bottle of leeches ran out into the middle 
 of the street, a torch in his right hand, flourished the firebrand 
 over his head, and called on his companions to follow him 
 against the soldiers. Two or three started forwards. The 
 military fired again. The man leaped high into the air, hurled 
 his firebrand into their midst, and fell his length, shot through 
 the heart; his bottle broke, and the leeches wriggled over his 
 prostrate form. 
 
 The Grenadiers did not fire again. A rumbling noise was 
 heard, and along with it the tramp of advancing feet. In 
 another moment the red uniforms of the Swiss soldiers gleamed 
 out of the shadow of the street, and a battalion with fixed 
 bayonets charged down the square in front of the Grenadiers, 
 sweeping the mob before them. In their rear were a couple 
 of cannon, drawn by horses, which were rapidly placed in 
 position to clear the streets. But they were not discharged. 
 The Grenadiers wheeled and charged in the direction opposite 
 to that taken by the Swiss, and in a few minutes the scene 
 of the riot was deserted by all save the dead and the dying, 
 and the inhabitants looking anxiously from their windows.
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 257 
 
 Why had not the soldiers been sent earlier ? 
 
 On the preceding day the mob had threatened this attack, 
 but had been prevented from accomplishing their intention by 
 the train of carriages that encumbered the road through the 
 Faubourg S. Antoine, the 27th April being the day of the Cha- 
 renton races. They had contented themselves with stopping 
 all the carriages, and shouting through the windows, ' Long 
 Hve the Third Estate ! ' The carriage of the Duke of Orleans 
 had been alone excepted. The people had surrounded it, and 
 cheered vociferously. 
 
 The reason why the destruction of R^veillon's factory was 
 permitted by Berthier the Intendant, and Besenval the Com- 
 mandant of the Forces in and around Paris, was that the Court 
 had taken alarm at the threatening attitude of the third estate 
 and the people of the metropolis, and it hoped to have an 
 excuse for concentrating troops on Versailles and Paris. 
 
 The elections at Paris were not completed, the Estates- 
 General had not met, but the crowd of nobles, headed by the 
 Count d'Artois and the Princes of Conde and Conti, had seen 
 that the King, by calling together the three estates, and by 
 permitting Necker to double the representation of the Com- 
 mons, had created a Frankenstein, which, if allowed to use 
 its power, would strangle privilege. The Count d'Artois ruled 
 the Queen, and the Queen ruled the weak, good-natured 
 King. IMarie Antoinette had imbibed fears from the Count, 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 and had communicated them to the King, and he had begun 
 to feel restless and anxious about the great assembly, which 
 he had convoked. He could not prevent its meeting, but he 
 could constrain its utterances, and he only wanted an excuse 
 for massing around it the army, to force the third estate to 
 vote money, and to keep silence on the subject of reform. 
 
 But where are Percenez and Gabrielle .? We have lost sight 
 of them in the crowd. We must return to their side. We 
 left them before the Bastille, as the mob rolled towards 
 R^veillon's factory. 
 
 ' Now, my child, hold fast to me,' said the colporteur ; ' my 
 sister . lives near this, — yonder, under the wall. She is married 
 again; I always forget her new name, — it is not that of a 
 Christian — at least, it is not a French name. She has married 
 one of the Swiss guard, a widower, with a tall, hulking son, and 
 she has got a daughter by her late husband, Madeleine. Ah ! 
 you will like her, — a nice girl, but giddy.' 
 
 The littlq man worked his way through the crowd till he 
 had brought Gabrielle before a small house that abutted upon 
 the outer wall of the fortress. The door was shut and locked, 
 and Percenez knocked at it in vain ; then he beat against the 
 window-glass, but no one answered, the fact being that his 
 sister, Madame Deschwanden — such was the name unpro- 
 nouncable by French lips — and her daughter, Madeleine 
 Chabry, were upstairs, looking out of the window at the mob
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 259 
 
 and its doings, and were deaf to the clatter at their own door. 
 Percenez soon discovered the faces of his sister and niece, and 
 stepping back to where he could be seen by them, signalled 
 to them^ and shouted their names. 
 
 ' Ah ! ' screamed Madame Deschwanden, clasping her hands, 
 then throwing them round her daughter's neck, and kissing her, 
 ' there is my brother Stephen ! Is it possible ? Stephen, is 
 that really you? What brought you here? How are all the 
 good people at Bernay ? I am charmed ! Madeleine, I shall 
 die of joy/ 
 
 * Will you let us in, good sister ? ' 
 
 ' Who is that with you ? You must tell me. But wait ! 
 I will open the door myself. Oh ecstasy ! oh raptures ! 
 Praised be Heaven ! Come, delicious brother, to my bosom.' 
 
 <H}io=>— 
 
 s 2
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 As soon as Madame Deschwanden had introduced her 
 brother and Gabrielle to the inside of her house, she fell back, 
 contemplated Percenez with outspread hands and head on one 
 side, and then precipitated herself into his arms, exclaiming, 
 ' Oh ecstasy ! oh raptures ! it is he.' 
 
 Having extricated herself from her brother's arms almost as 
 rapidly as she had fallen into them, she said, ' Come along to 
 the window, and see the rest of the fun.' 
 
 She caught Percenez in one hand and Gabrielle in the other, 
 and drew them upstairs into the room in which she had been 
 sitting before she descended to admit them. 
 
 * Etienne, you know my daughter Madeleine, do you not ? ' 
 she asked abruptly ; then turning towards the new comer, and 
 from her to her own daughter, she introduced them : 
 
 * Madeleine Chabry — Madame Percenez.' 
 
 ' Pardon me,' said the colporteur, laughing ; ' litde Gabrielle 
 is not my wife.' 
 
 ' Ah ! a sweetheart.' 
 ' No, nor that either.'
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 261 
 
 ' Well, never mind explanations/ said jNIadame Deschwanden ; 
 ' they are often awkward, and always unnecessary. Of one 
 thing I can be certain, mademoiselle is charming, and she is 
 heartily welcome,' she curtsied towards the girl, and then viva- 
 ciously changed the subject. ' The sport ! we must not miss it. 
 Oh ! they have got into the factory, and into the house. 
 Oh ! the exquisite, the enchanting things that are being de- 
 stroyed. Perfidious heavens ! I know there are angelic wall- 
 papers in that abandoned Reveillon's shop — I have seen them 
 with these eyes — and all going to ruin. Saints in Paradise ! 
 such papers with roses and jessamines and Brazilian humming- 
 birds.' Then, rushing to the door of the room, she called 
 loudly, 'Klaus! Klaus!' 
 
 ' What do you want, mother ? ' asked a young man, coming 
 to the door. 
 
 Percenez and Gabrielle turned to look at him. He was 
 a slender youth of nineteen, with very light hair and large 
 blue eyes. His face was somewhat broad, genial, and good- 
 natured. He was without his coat, his shirt-sleeves were 
 rolled up his muscular arms, and the collar was open at the 
 throat, exposing his breast and a little black riband, to which 
 was attached a medal resting on it. 
 
 ' What do I want ! ' exclaimed Madame Deschwanden, 
 starting from the window into the middle of the room.
 
 262 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 ' How can you ask such a question, Klaus ? Look at these 
 walls. They are my answer.' 
 
 ' My dear mother, what do you mean .? ' 
 
 'Klaus, you are little better than a fool. The people are 
 sacking the factory, and there you stand. I\Iy faith ! it is 
 enough to make angels swear ! And papers — wall-papers, to 
 be had for nothing— for the mere taking. I saw one myself 
 with roses and jessamine and humming-birds, and there was 
 another — another for a large room. I saw it with these 
 eyes — a paper to paper heaven ! with a blue sky and an 
 Indian forest of palms, and an elephant with a tower on 
 its back, and a man holding a large red umbrella, and a 
 tiger in the attitude of death, receiving a shot, and foaming 
 with rage, and monkeys up a palm. Mon Dieu! you must 
 get it me at once, or I shall expire. Klaus, I must and will 
 have those papers.' 
 
 'You absurd little mother,' said Klaus, stepping into the 
 room and laughing ; ' do you think I am going to steal 
 Reveillon's goods for you, and get myself and you and father 
 and INIadeleine into trouble ? Be content.' 
 
 ' Content ! ' exclaimed madame. ' Who ever heard such 
 a word.? Content I with papers — wall-papers, think of that, 
 going a-begging. I know that those idiots yonder will burn 
 the factory and save nothing. Klaus, you seraph, my own 
 jewel ! ' she cast herself on his bosom ; ' to please the mamma,
 
 AV EX ITU ISRAEL. 263 
 
 though she be a stepmother in name but never one in 
 sentiment, to please her who studies your fondest whims. 
 You know very well,' said she, suddenly recovering herself, 
 'that I put myself out of the way only yesterday for you, 
 that I sacrificed my own wishes to yours only yesterday. 
 Did I not prepare veal a Toseille for your dinner, and you 
 know in your inmost heart that I preferred it aiix petits 
 pots?' Then instantly becoming indignant, she frowned, 
 stiffened in every joint, became angular, and said, ' ingrate ! ' 
 
 *My dear, good mother ' 
 
 ' Now look you here,' she interrupted ; ' we will sit together 
 on the sofa, in the corner, and whisper together. Come 
 along.' She had him by the arm, and dragged him over to 
 the seat she had indicated, and pinned him into the angle 
 with her gown, which she spread out before her, as she 
 subsided beside him. 
 
 * You know, you rogue, that my wishes are law to you. 
 Do not deny it. Think of this. I wish, I furiously desire, 
 I burst with impatience to possess at least one of those 
 papers. Bring enough to cover all the walls. I see it in 
 your eyes — you are going! it mantles on your cheek, it 
 quivers on your tongue. Oh ecstasy ! oh raptures ! ' she 
 leaped from her sofa, and running to those at the window 
 kissed them all, one after the other. 'He has promised. 
 This room will speedily be a bower of roses and jessa-
 
 264 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 mine and Brazilian humming-birds. Quick, Klaus, mein 
 sohn ! ' 
 
 * He will not go, mother,' said Madeleine, speaking for the 
 first time; 'he is too conscientious.' 
 
 * Conscientious ! ' echoed IMadame Deschwanden, covering 
 her eyes ; ' that I should have lived to hear the word. 
 Madeleine ! he is none of us. He has that nasty German 
 blood in his veins, and it has made him conscientious. l\Iy 
 aunt's sister's son married a Hungarian, and their child was 
 always afflicted with erysipelas. I attributed it to his 
 Hungarian blood, poor child ! But, Klaus ! conquer it, and, 
 oh ! get me the angelic paper — that with the humming-birds, 
 never mind that with the tiger and the elephant; and so 
 compromise the matter. I declare, I declare ! ' she cried, 
 darting to the window; 'they are casting the furniture out 
 of the house — tables, chairs, and breaking them ! To think 
 of the expense ! Ah ! there goes a mirror. Madeleine, oh ! 
 if we could have secured that glass. It would have filled the 
 space above the sideboard to perfection. If I could have 
 seen myself in that mirror, and called it my own, I could 
 have died singing.' 
 
 Madeleine darted out of the room, and ran downstairs. 
 Next moment her mother and Percenez saw her in the crowd, 
 pushing her way up to the house with resolution and 
 success.
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 265 
 
 * That is my own daughter ! ' cried the enraptured lady : 
 ' she is in everything worthy of me ; she is, indeed ! She gave 
 me much trouble as a child, I brought her up at my own 
 breast, and see how she is ready to repay me. She will 
 bring me a thousand pretty things. Oh, rapture ! As for 
 Klaus, I will not call him " mein sohn " any more. I will 
 not frame my lips to utter his Swiss jargon. Go to your 
 saints, boy; cut and carve away at them, and remember to 
 your shame that you have refused the entreaty of your mother. 
 No, thank goodness ! I am not your mother. I should have 
 overlaid you fifty times had you been mine; I might have 
 guessed what a sort of conscientious creature you would 
 have grown up.' 
 
 ' What is Klaus's work .? ' asked Percenez, to turn the 
 subject. 
 
 'Work!' repeated Madame Deschwanden, 'why, he is a 
 wood-carver; he makes saints for churches, and crucifixes, 
 and Blessed Virgins, and all that sort of thing, you know ; 
 but it don't pay now, there's no demand. jMadeleine began 
 that once, but gave it up. You can't swim against the 
 tide.' 
 
 ' Then what is IMadeleine's work now } ' 
 
 * Oh ! she is flower-girl at Versailles.' 
 
 Gabrielle looked up. 'I am a flower-girl,' she said, timidly. 
 ' Oh, indeed ! ' answered Madame Deschwanden, quickly
 
 2 66 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 
 
 running her eye over her. 'You are good-looking, you will 
 do, only fish in a diff"erent pool from Madeleine. But oh, 
 ecstasy ! here comes ]\Iadeleine. What has she got ? ' 
 
 Madeleine was indeed visible pushing her way back from 
 the factory. She had something in her hands, but what, 
 was not distinguishable. In another minute she was upstairs 
 and had deposited a beautiful mother-of-pearl box on the 
 table, a box of considerable size, and of beautiful work- 
 manship. 
 
 ' What is in it } ' almost shrieked IMadame Deschwanden. 
 
 'My mother, I cannot tell; it is locked, and I have not 
 the key.' 
 
 Madeleine was nearly out of breath. She leaned against 
 the table, put her hand against her side, and panted. She 
 looked so pretty, so bewitching, that Percenez could hardly 
 be angry with her, though he knew she had done wrong. 
 Her cheeks were flushed, her dancing black eyes were bright 
 with triumph, and her attitude was easy and full of grace. 
 She wore her hair loose, curled and falling over her neck 
 and shoulders. Her bodice was low, exposing throat and 
 bosom, both exquisitely moulded; her skirt was short, and 
 allowed her neat little feet and ankles to be seen in all their 
 perfection. Gabrielle thought she had never seen so pretty 
 a girl. She herself was a marked contrast to INIadeleine. 
 She was not so slender and trim in her proportions, nor so
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 267 
 
 agile in her movements ; but her face was full of simplicity, and 
 that was the principal charm. Madeleine's features were not so 
 regular as those of Gabrielle, but there was far more animation 
 in her face. The deep hazel eyes of the peasant-girl were 
 steady, the dark orbs of the Parisian flower-girl sparkled and 
 danced, without a moment's constancy. A woman's character 
 is written on her brow. That of Gabrielle was smooth, and 
 spoke of purity; the forehead of Madeleine expressed boldness 
 and assurance. 
 
 * You are the joy of my life, the loadstar of my existence ! ' 
 exclaimed the mother, embracing her daughter, and then the 
 box, which she covered with kisses. ' Oh ecstasy ! oh raptures ! 
 this is beautiful Klaus, lend me one of your tools to 
 force the box open. Perhaps it contains jewels ! Klaus, 
 quick ! ' 
 
 The lad placed his hand on the coffer, and said, gravely: 
 'I am sorry to spoil your pleasure, dear mother; but this 
 mother-of-pearl box must be returned.' 
 
 ' Returned ! ' echoed madame with scorn, — ' returned to 
 the mob, who are breaking everything. I never heard such 
 nonsense.' 
 
 ' Not to the mob, but to M. Reveillon.' 
 
 ' To ]\I. Reveillon ! what rubbish you do talk ! I shall 
 keep the box and cherish it. Mon Dieu ! would you tear it 
 from me now that I love it, that I adore it .? '
 
 268 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 'We shall see, when my father comes,' said Nicholas 
 Deschwanden. * I have no doubt of his decision.' 
 
 ' I shall kill myself/ said Madame Deschwanden, ' and go 
 to heaven, where I shall be happy, and you will not be able 
 to rob me of all my pretty things, and pester me with your 
 conscientious scruples. See if I do not ! or I shall run 
 away with a gentleman who Mill love me and gratify all my 
 little innocent whims. See if I do not ! And so I shall 
 leave you and your father to talk your rigmaroles about Alps 
 and lakes and glaciers, and chant your litanies to Bruder 
 Klaus and Heiliger Meinrad. See if I don't ! ' 
 . The discharge of musketry interrupted the flow of her 
 threats, and the vehement little woman was next moment 
 again at the window. 
 
 ' Oh, how lucky ! ' she exclaimed : ' Madeleine ! if you had 
 been ten minutes later you would have been shot. Count, 
 Etienne; count, IMadeleine; one, two, three, four, oh how 
 many there are down — killed, poor things ! Dear me ! I 
 would not have missed the sight for a thousand livres. Etienne, 
 Madeleine, you Klaus! come, look, they will fire again. Glorious ! 
 Oh, what fun ! Ecstasy ! raptures ! ' 
 
 After the second discharge madame drew attention to the 
 man who had been shot through the heart — he with the bottle 
 of leeches. 
 
 ' How he leaped ! He would have made his fortune on
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 269 
 
 the tight-rope. Oh ! what would I not have given to have 
 danced with him. I am certain he was a superb dancer. 
 Did any of you ever in your Hfe see a male cut such a 
 caper } Never ; it was magnificent, it was prodigious. More 
 the pity that he is dead. He will never dance again/ she 
 said, in a low and^^ sad voice ; but brightened up instantly 
 again with the remark, ' Ah well ! we must all die sooner or 
 later. Etienne, count the dead, now that the soldiers have 
 cleared the street and square. My faith ! what a pity it is 
 that dead men are not made serviceable for the table; and 
 meat is so dear ! ' Then suddenly it occurred to the volatile 
 lady that her brother and his little companion had come to 
 take up their abode with her — and meat so dear ! She attacked 
 Etienne at once on the point. 
 
 ' My dearest brother, whom I love above everyone — yes, 
 whom I adore, — I will not deny it, whom I idolize, — tell 
 me, where are you lodging } ' 
 
 ' I thought you could give Gabrielle and me shelter for 
 awhile,' answered Percenez. 'I am sure Madeleine will 
 share her bed with Gabrielle, my little ward, and I can litter 
 myself a mattress of straw anywhere.' 
 
 'And you have not dined yet.''' asked Madame Deschwanden. 
 
 ' No ; we have not had time to think of dinner.' 
 
 ' But you are hungry ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly.'
 
 270 I.V EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 'And thirsty?' 
 
 'Very thirsty, I can assure you.' 
 
 Madame Deschwanden caught both his hands in hers, and 
 shook them enthusiastically. 
 
 ' My own best-beloved brother ! I talk of you all day long, 
 do I not, Madeleine .? You, too, Klaus, can bear me witness. 
 I am rejoiced to hear that you are hungry and thirsty. And 
 you like thoroughly good dinners ? ' 
 
 'Most assuredly, when I can get them.' 
 
 'And you too?' she looked at Gabrielle, who whispered 
 an affirmative. 
 
 ' And you enjoy a really good bottle of wine ? ' 
 
 ' Trust me,' answered Stephen. 
 
 ' Then,' said IMadame Deschwanden, hugging her brother 
 to her heart, 'the best of everything is yours, at the sign 
 of the Boot, two doors off, on the right hand, and table- 
 d'hote is in half an hour. Terms very moderate.' 
 
 * But, my sister ! ' said the little colporteur, drawing out of her 
 embrace, and regarding her with a sly look, ' I have come 
 to take up my residence with you.' 
 
 ' And dine at the Boot,' put in the lady. ' I can confidently 
 recommend the table there. It is largely patronized by the 
 most discerning palates ' 
 
 'But, my sister, I am quite resolved to take my meals 
 with you.'
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 27 I 
 
 * You cannot, indeed ! ' exclaimed madame ; ' my cookery 
 is vile, it is baser than dirt. I am an abject cook.' 
 
 ' Oh, Josephine, neither Gabrielle Andre nor I are particular.' 
 
 ' Andr^ ! ' exclaimed Madame Deschwanden. ' Do you tell 
 me the name of this seraph is Andr^ ? Is she the daughter 
 of Matthias Andre of Les Hirondelles V 
 
 ' To be sure she is.' 
 
 Madame now cast herself on the neck of the peasant girl, 
 sobbed loudly, and wept copiously. 
 
 ' To think it is you ! the daughter of Matthias, who adored 
 me, when I was your age. Yes, child; your father when a 
 young man was my most devoted admirer ; but, ah, bah ! 
 every one admired me then, but he above them all. And if 
 I had accepted him as my husband — to think you might then 
 have been my daughter. Poor Matthias ! how is he ?' 
 
 Percenez checked her with a look and shake of the head. 
 
 * Well, well ! we all die, more 's the pity ; and your mother — 
 dead too ! Ah well ! every sentence ends in a full stop, and so 
 does the long rigmarole of life. Then in pity's sake let life be 
 a Jubilate and not a De Profundis.' 
 
 * About meals?' said Percenez. His sister's countenance fell 
 at once, but she rapidly recovered. 
 
 * Exactly. You will hear all the news at the Boot. Superb 
 place for gossip. Oh you men, you men ! you charge us 
 women with tittle-tattling, and when you get together — ' she
 
 272 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 wagged her finger at him and laughed. ' Now, be quick, 
 Etienne ! my brother, and you, my angel, Mademoiselle 
 Andre, and get your dinners over quick, and come here and 
 tell us the news, and we shall have a charming evening.' 
 
 ' My sister,' said Percenez, ' you must really listen to my 
 proposal. I may be in Paris for weeks — perhaps months. 
 I intend to pursue my business of selling newspapers and 
 pamphlets here in Paris for a while, that is, during the session 
 of the States-General, and I cannot think of troubling you 
 ^vith my presence as a guest. Will you let us lodge with 
 you .? I will pay you so much a week for my bed and board, 
 and Gabrielle shall do the same. She has a mission to per- 
 form in Paris, and though I am not sanguine of her success, 
 nevertheless she must make an attempt. She can join 
 Madeleine in selling flowers, and I will guarantee that you 
 are no loser.' 
 
 ' My own most cherished brother ! ' exclaimed INIadame 
 Deschwanden ; ' do not think me so mercenary as all that. 
 Gladly do I urge you to stay here, and join us at our frugal 
 table. You are welcome to every scrap of food in the larder, 
 and to every bed in the house. Far be it from me to be 
 mercenary. I hate the word — I scorn to be thought it. / 
 care for money ! No one has as yet hinted such a thing to 
 me ! No ; you are welcome — welcome to a sister's hospitality. 
 The terms, by the way, you did not mention,' she said, in a 
 lower voice ; * we have taken in boarders at '
 
 /X EX ITU ISRAEL. 273 
 
 She was interrupted by the entrance of Corporal Desch- 
 wanden, her husband, a tall, grave soldier, with a face as cor- 
 rugated and brown as that of Percenez; his moustaches and 
 the hair of the head were iron grey, his eyes large and blue, 
 like his son's, and lighted with the same expression of frank 
 simplicity. 
 
 The corporal saluted Percenez and Gabrielle, as his wife 
 introduced them with many flourishes of the arms and flowers 
 of eloquence. 
 
 ' You are heartily welcome, sir,' said the soldier in broken 
 French ; ' and you, fraulein, the same.' 
 
 Then seating himself at the table he rapped the board with 
 his knuckles and said, ' Dinner !' 
 
 Madame Deschwanden and her daughter speedily served a 
 cold repast in the lower room, the mother making many 
 apologies for having nothing hot to offer, as she had been 
 distracted by the Reveillon riot, and now her head was racked 
 with pain, and she prayed Heaven would speedily terminate her 
 sufferings with death. 
 
 The old soldier during the meal looked over several times 
 at Gabrielle in a kindly manner, and treated her with courtesy. 
 The girl raised her timid eyes to his, and saw them beaming 
 with benevolence. A frightened smile fluttered to her lips, 
 and he smiled back at her. ^ 
 
 ' You have come a long way,' he said ; ' and you must be 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 2 74 ^^ EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 tired, poor child! Ah! if you had oui mountains to climb' — 
 he looked at his son Nicholas — ' they would tire your little feet. 
 Do you remember the scramble we had up the Rhigi, Klaus ? 
 And the lake — the deep blue lake — Ach es war herrlich ! And 
 the clouds brushing across the silver Roth and Engelberger 
 hbrner.' The old man rose, brushed up his hair on either side 
 of his ears ; his blue eyes flashed, and he sat down again. 
 
 ' Now this is against all rule,' said IMadame Deschwanden ; 
 'here we are back at that pottering little Switzerland, and 
 the mountains, and the lake, before dinner is over; we shall 
 have the glaciers next, and the chamois, and the cowbells, 
 and the gentians, and of course wind up with the Bruder 
 Klaus.' 
 
 ' Relaxation,' said the soldier, rapping the table with his 
 knuckles, after consulting his watch. ' IMeal-time up ; re- 
 laxation begins.' 
 
 • Then you are going to have the lakes and the cowbells and 
 the Bruder Klaus ! ' said jMadame Deschwanden. 
 
 ' It is their time,' answered the corporal. 
 
 ' Then IMadeleine and I are off.' 
 
 ' I will rap for prayers,' said the corporal.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Madeleine and her mother retired to the window, and 
 beckoned Gabrielle to join them. 
 
 The corporal and the colporteur lit their pipes, and Klaus 
 with his knife began to cut a head out of a bit of box-wood 
 he extracted from his pocket. 
 
 ' So, Master Percenez, you have come to witness the great 
 struggle.?' said the soldier, fixing his blue eyes on the httle 
 man. 
 
 ' Yes, corporal, I have. I am interested in it, — but who is 
 not ? It seems to me that we must fight now, or give in 
 for ever.' 
 
 ' A fight there will be,' said the soldier ; ' a fight of tongues 
 and hard words. Tongues for swords, hard words for bullets. 
 Did you ever hear how we managed to gain our liberty in 
 my country ? I tell you that was not with speeches, but with 
 blows. I doubt if your States-General will do much. I do 
 not think much of talking, I like action.' 
 
 ' And are you free in Switzerland .'' ' asked Percenez. 
 
 * Yes,' answered Deschwanden, ' we are free. We gained 
 
 T 2
 
 276 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 our liberty by our swords. Our brave land was subject to 
 the despotic rule of the Duke of Austria, and we were re- 
 duced to much the same condition as you French are now. 
 We paid taxes which were exorbitant, we were crushed by 
 the privileged classes, and robbed of the just reward of our 
 toil. Then Arnold of Melchthal, Werner Stauffacher, and 
 Walter Fiirst formed the resolution to resist, and lead the 
 people to revolt, and so they threw off the yoke and became 
 free.' 
 
 ' Father/ said Nicholas, ' do you remember the inn of the 
 Confederates on the lake, with their figures painted on the 
 white wall, five times the size of fife?' 
 
 'Ah so ! ' exclaimed the corporal ; ' have I not drunk on 
 the balcony of that same inn over against Griitli .^ Have I 
 not seen the three fountains that bubbled up where the Con- 
 federates stood and joined hands and swore to liberate their 
 country from the oppression of their Austrian governors, to 
 be faithful to each other, and to be righteous in executing 
 their judgments on the tyrants.'*' 
 
 The old man brushed up the hair on either side of his 
 head, rose to his feet, filled his tumbler with wine, and waving 
 it above his head, exclaimed joyously : 
 
 ' Here is to the memory of Arnold of Melchthal, Werner 
 Stauffacher, and Walter Furst ! ' 
 
 Percenez and young Nicholas drank, standing.
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL, 277 
 
 * Did you ever hear/ continued the soldier, reseating himself, 
 ' how William Tell refused to bow to the ducal cap set up 
 on a pole, the badge of servitude, and how the governor — 
 his name was Gessler — bade the valiant archer shoot an apple 
 off his son's head?' 
 
 ' I have heard the story,' said the colporteur. 
 ' And I have seen the place,' cried Nicholas ; ' have I not, 
 father?' 
 
 * We have both seen the very spot where the glorious 
 William stood, and where grew the tree against which the 
 lad was placed. The square is no more. Houses have in- 
 vaded it, so that now Tell could not send an arrow from his 
 standing-point to the site of the tree. Ah ! he was a great 
 liberator of his country, was Tell. Fill your glasses, friends ! 
 To William Tell!' He rubbed up his hair, rose to his feet, 
 and drained his glass again. 
 
 ' Have you ever heard how nearly Swiss freedom was lost, 
 by treachery and gold ? You must know that the Confederate 
 States had vanquished Charles of Burgundy in three great 
 battles, and had pillaged his camp, which was so full of booty 
 that gold circulated among the people like copper. The cantons 
 of Uri, of Schwytz, and Unterwalden — that latter is mine — 
 desired peace, and those of Lucerne, and Berne, and Zurich 
 desired to extend the Confederacy ; so great quarrels arose, 
 and soon that union which was the source of their strength
 
 2 78 nv EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 promised to be dissolved, and civil war to break out, and 
 ruin Swiss independence. The Confederates were assembled 
 for consultation, for the last time, at Stanz. The animosity of 
 party, however, was so great, that after three sessions of angry 
 debates, the members rose with agitated countenances, and 
 separated M'ithout taking leave of one another, to meet again, 
 perhaps, only in the conflict of civil war. That which neither 
 the power of Austria, nor the audacious might of Charles of 
 Burgundy, had ever been able to accomplish, my people were 
 themselves in danger of bringing about by these internal dis- 
 sensions ; and the liberty and happiness of their country stood 
 in the most imminent peril.' 
 
 ' My faith ! ' cried IMadame Deschwanden, shrugging her 
 shoulders, and throwing into her face, as she sat in the 
 window, an expression of disgust and contempt, ' they are 
 getting upon the Bruder Klaus/ 
 
 ' Yes, wife,' said the soldier, turning to her, and brushing up 
 
 his hair, ' glorious Bruder Klaus ! Here's to his but no, 
 
 you shall hear the story first. So ! up the face of a precipice 
 in the INIelchthal lived a hermit, Nicholas von der Flue. And 
 here I may add that our captain is called by the same name. 
 Well, then, this hermit, whom we call Brother Nicholas, or, for 
 short. Brother Klaus, left his cell at the moment of danger, 
 and sending a messenger before him to bid the deputies 
 await his arrival, he walked all the way to Stanz without
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 279 
 
 resting, and entered the town-hall, where the assembly sat. 
 He wore his simple dark-coloured dress, which descended 
 to his feet; he carried his chaplet in one hand, and grasped 
 his staff in the other; he was, as usual, barefoot and bare- 
 headed; and his long hair, a little touched by the snows of 
 age, fell upon his shoulders. When the delegates saw him 
 enter, they rose out of respect, and God gave him such 
 grace that his words restored unanimity, and in an hour all 
 difficulties were smoothed away ; the land was preserved from 
 civil war, and from falling again, — as in that case it must have 
 fallen, — under the power of Burgundy or Austria.' 
 
 ' I have seen the very coat Bruder Klaus wore,' said Nicholas, 
 his large blue eyes full of pride and joy. 
 
 ' Yes,' said the soldier, triumphantly ; ' we have both seen 
 his habit ; we have seen his body, too, at Sachseln. Fill your 
 glasses !' he rubbed up his hair, first over his ears and then 
 above his forehead and at the back of the head, and starting 
 to his feet, pledged Bruder Klaus of pious memory. Per- 
 cenez and Nicholas joined enthusiastically. 
 
 ' See ! ' said the latter, taking his black ribbon from his neck, 
 and extending the medal to Percenez ; ' on that coin is a repre- 
 sentation of the blessed hermit; that piece has been laid on 
 his shrine, and has been blessed by the priest of Sachseln.' 
 
 ' Fetch him the statue of the glorious brother ! ' cried the
 
 2 8o nv EXITU ISRAEL. 
 
 corporal to his son ; ' let him see what blessed Nicholas really 
 was like.' 
 
 The lad instantly dived out of the room, down a passage, 
 and presently reappeared with a wooden figure of the hermit, 
 carved by himself The face was exquisitely wrought, and 
 the hands delicately finished. The whole was painted, but 
 not coarsely. 
 
 ' He was very pale in the face, almost deadly white, and dark 
 about the eyes,' said the soldier. * We have his portrait, taken 
 
 during his life, in the town-hall of Sarnen ' all at once 
 
 the corporal's eyes rested on his watch. 
 
 ' Herr Je ! ' he exclaimed ; ' we have exceeded our time by 
 three minutes.' He rapped with his knuckles on the table, and 
 shouted the order : 
 
 ' Music ! ' 
 
 Instantly his son Nicholas produced a flute, and warbled on 
 it a well-known Swiss air. The corporal folded his hands on 
 his breast, threw back his head, fixed his eyes on the scrap 
 of blue sky visible above the roofs of the houses opposite, and 
 began to sing, ' Herz, mein Herz warum so traurig' — of which 
 we venture to give an English rendering : 
 
 ' Heart, my heart ! why art thou weary. 
 Why to grief and tears a prey ? 
 Foreign lands are bright and cheery ; 
 Heart, my heart, what ails thee, say.?
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. - 281 
 
 That which ails me past appeasing ! 
 
 I am lost, a stranger here ; 
 What though foreign lands be pleasing, 
 
 Home, sweet home, alone is dear. 
 
 Were I now to home returning, 
 
 Oh, how swiftly would I fly ! 
 Home to father, home to mother, 
 
 Home to native rocks and sky ! 
 
 ' Through the fragrant pine-boughs bending 
 
 I should see the glacier shine, 
 See the nimble goats ascending 
 Gentian-dappled slopes in line; 
 
 See the catde, hear the tinkle 
 
 Of the merry clashing bells. 
 See white sheep the pastures sprinkle 
 
 In the verdant dewy dells. 
 
 I should climb the rugged gorges 
 
 To the azure Alpine lake, 
 Where the snowy peak discharges 
 
 Torrents, that the silence break. 
 
 ■ I should see the old brown houses, 
 At the doors, in every place. 
 Neighbours sitting, children playing, 
 Greetinofs in each honest face.
 
 282 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 
 
 ' Oh my youth ! to thee returning, 
 Oft I ask, why did I roam ? 
 Oh my heart ! my heart is burning 
 At the memory of Home. 
 
 ' Heart, my heart ! in weary sadness 
 Breaking, far from fatherland, 
 Restless, yearning, void of gladness, 
 Till once more at home I stand.' 
 
 As the old man sang, the tears filled his large eyes, and slowly 
 trickled down his weather-beaten cheeks. He sat for some 
 while in silence and motionless, absorbed in memory. Now 
 and then a smile played over his rugged features. 
 
 'I remember walking from Beckenreid to Seehsberg one 
 spring evening,' he said, speaking to himself; ' the rocks were 
 covered with wild pinks. We never see wild pinks here. And 
 the thyme w^as fragrant, multitudes of bees swarmed humming 
 about it. I remember, because, when tired, I sat on the 
 thyme, and listened to their buzz. Down below lay the deep 
 blue green lake reflecting the mountains, still as glass. The 
 bell of Gersau was chiming. The red roofs were so pretty 
 under the brown rocks of the Scheideck and Hochflue. A 
 little farther on, upon a mass of fallen rock in the water, in 
 the midst of a feathery tuft of birch, stood the chapel of 
 Kindlismord.' He paused and smiled, and then a great tear 
 dropped from his cheek to his breast. ' I saw a foaming
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 283 
 
 torrent rush through the forest and dart over a ledge and 
 disappear. The golden clouds overhead were reflected in 
 the lake. I picked a bunch of blue salvias and a tiger-lily.' 
 He drew a heavy sigh, brushed his hair down with his hands, 
 shook his head, looked at his watch, and rapped the table with 
 the order : 
 
 ' Prayers ! ' 
 
 Immediately all rose, and the old soldier led the way down 
 the passage into Klaus's workshop, 
 
 Klaus, as has already been said, carved statues for churches. 
 His room was full of figures, some finished and coloured, 
 others half done ; some only sketched out of the block. On 
 a shelf stood a row of little saints ; but the majority were from 
 three to five feet high. In the corner was a huge S. Christo- 
 pher, carrying the infant Saviour on his shoulder, and leaning 
 on a rugged staff. His work-table was strewn with tools and 
 shavings and chips of wood, and the floor was encumbered 
 with blocks of oak and box, wood shavings and sawdust. 
 In a niche in the side of the room, on a pedestal, stood a 
 life-sized figure of the Swiss hermit, the patron saint of the 
 Deschwandens, with a pendent lamp before it. A crucifix of 
 ebony and boxwood stood before the little window which 
 lighted the room, and was situated immediately above his work- 
 table. The corporal knelt down, followed by his family and
 
 284 AV EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 the guests, and recited the usual evening prayers in a firm 
 voice, ending with the Litany of the Saints. 
 
 After the last response, the corporal made a pause, and 
 rapped with his knuckles against the bench in front of him, 
 whereupon Madame Deschwanden rose with a sniff and a great 
 rustle of her garments, and sailed out of the room, leaning on 
 IMadeleine. 
 
 ' You had better come, too,' she said to Percenez and Ga- 
 brielle ; ' that father and son there have not done yet. They 
 have their blessed Swiss saints to invoke in their barbarous 
 jargon. But, as I do not approve either of their tongue or of 
 their Klauses and Meinrads, Madeleine and I always leave them 
 to themselves.' 
 
 The colporteur and his little ward rose, but not without 
 hesitation, for the corporal and his son remained kneeling as 
 stiff as any of the wooden figures surrounding them, with 
 hands joined and eyes directed immediately in front of them. ' 
 
 * Oh my faith ! ' exclaimed Madame Deschwanden, as she 
 reached the sitting-room ; ' to think that I have been reduced 
 to this,— to become the spouse of a clockwork-man made of 
 wood. Heavens ! Etienne, the corporal does everything to the 
 minute ; dresses, washes, eats, prays, dreams of his precious 
 Schweizerland, all by the watch, and I — poor I — I am in 
 despair. This does not suit me at all.' 
 
 Percenez attempted to console his sister, and she rattled on
 
 IN EXITU ISRAEL. 205 
 
 with her story of grievance, whilst Gabrielle, musing and not 
 speaking, heard the solemn voice of the old soldier sounding 
 from the workshop : 
 
 ' Heiliger Meinrad ! ' 
 
 And Nicholas's response : ' Bitte fiir uns ^' 
 
 * Heiliger Gallus ! ' 
 ' Bitte fiir uns/ 
 
 * Heiliger Beatus ! ' 
 ' Bitte fiir uns/ 
 
 ' Heiliger Moritz und deine Gefahrte ! ' 
 
 ' Bittet fiir uns.' 
 
 ' Heiliger Bonifacius ! ' 
 
 ' Bitte fiir uns/ 
 
 ' Heilige Verena ! ' 
 
 ' Bitte fiir uns/ 
 
 ' Heiliger Bruder Klaus ! ' 
 
 ' Bitte fur uns,' 
 
 Shortly after, the corporal and his son returned to the room. 
 Gabrielle was sitting by herself in the dusk near the door — 
 in fact, in that corner of the sofa into which Madame Desch- 
 wanden had driven Nicholas, when she wanted the paper with 
 roses and jessamine and Brazilian humming-birds. 
 
 The young man walked towards her somewhat awkwardly, 
 
 ^ Holy Meinrad, &.c. Pray for us.
 
 2 86 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 and leaning on the arm of the sofa with his back to the 
 window, said : 
 
 * You must be puzzled at our relationship in this house.' 
 
 ' I do not quite understand the relationship, I own,' answered 
 Gabrielle, shyly. 
 
 'I am not the son of madame,' said he, noddins; his head 
 in the direction of Percenez's sister, 'nor is Madeleine my 
 own sister. My father married again, after my mother's death, 
 and Madame Chabry was a widow with an only daughter. 
 Do you understand now ? ' 
 
 * Yes, thank you.' 
 
 * I should like to hear your opinion about the box,' he con- 
 tinued. ' Do you think we have any right to keep it t Mamma 
 is set upon it, so is Madeleine, but the question is, have they 
 any right to it .? ' 
 
 Gabrielle looked at her shawl, and plucked at the fringe. 
 
 * You do not like to answer,' said Klaus. 
 
 ' I think the box ought to be returned,' she said, timidly, and 
 in a low, faltering voice. 
 
 A smile beamed on the lad's broad face. He nodded at her 
 in a friendly, approving manner, and said, ' So my father says. 
 I consulted him in the other room. And now the difficulty 
 is to get the box away. Observe my father.' 
 
 Gabrielle looked towards the corporal ; he was standing near 
 the window, with his back to the table on which the mother-
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 287 
 
 of-pearl coffer lay, and was engaged in animated conversation 
 with Percenez, IMadame, and Madeleine. Gabrielle observed 
 that the old soldier made a point of addressing his wife and 
 daughter-in-law in turn, and then directing an observation to 
 Percenez. From sentences she caught, the girl ascertained 
 that the corporal was attacking the French character, and was 
 especially caustic on the subject of French women. His wife 
 was at once in a blaze, and Madeleine caught fire. Percenez 
 took up cudgels on behalf of his countrywomen, but the 
 soldier was not to be beaten by the three com.bined. As soon 
 as the conversation or argument gave symptoms of flagging, 
 he produced from his armoury some peculiarly pungent remark, 
 which he cast as a bomb-shell among them, and v*'hich at once 
 aroused a clatter of tongues. 
 
 ' There's a story told in my country of a man who married 
 a Frenchwoman/ said the soldier, fixing his wife with his eye. 
 
 ' I will not listen to your stories,' said ]\Iadame Desch- 
 wanden; 'they are bad, wicked tales. Stop your ears, 
 Percenez, as I stop mine. ^Madeleine, don't Usten to him. 
 A Frenchman uses his tongue like a feather, but a German 
 or Swiss knocks you down with it like a club.' 
 
 'There is a story in my country,' pursued the corporal, 
 turning composedly towards the colporteur, ' of a Swiss farmer 
 who married a French mademoiselle.' 
 
 'Ah! I pity her, poor thing, I do,' said Madame Desch-
 
 2 88 JN EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 wanden, suddenly removing her hand from her ear and flutter- 
 ing it in her husband's face; 'she doubtless thought him 
 flesh and blood, and only too late found him out to be a 
 Jacquemart — a wooden doll worked by springs.' 
 
 ' So ! ' continued the soldier, calmly, ' the man died ' 
 
 * Of dry rot,' interpolated madame ; ' there was a maggot 
 in his head.' 
 
 ' He died,' the soldier pursued ; ' and then, having left the 
 earth, he presented himself at the gates of Paradise.' 
 
 *Ah!' exclaimed madame; 'and he found that it was 
 peopled with Bruder Klauses — like the wooden saints your 
 boy carves.' 
 
 * Now you know, Percenez, my good friend, that there is a 
 preliminary stage souls have to pass through before they can 
 enter the realm of the blessed ; that stage is called purgatory. 
 So ! S. Peter opened the door to the Swiss Bauer and said, 
 " You cannot come in. You have not been in purgatory ! " 
 " No,'' answered the farmer, " but I have spent ten years 
 married to a French wife." '' Then step in," said the door- 
 keeper, " you have endured purgatory in Ufe." ' 
 
 ' I will not listen to you,' screamed Madame Deschwanden, 
 resolutely facing the window and presenting her back to her 
 husband. 
 
 Madeleine followed suit, and was immediately engrossed in 
 what was taking place in the street.
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 289 
 
 'You Frenchwomen!' called the corporal, tauntingly, as 
 he stepped backwards with his hands behind him. The 
 mother and daughter turned abruptly, and facing him exclaimed 
 together, ' We glory in the title ; ' then reverted to their 
 contemplation of the street. 
 
 ' Now,' said Nicholas, in a low voice, ' observe my father 
 attentively; he is a skilful general.' 
 
 Corporal Deschwanden retreated leisurely backwards, as 
 though retiring from the presence of royalty, till he reached 
 the table, when his hands felt for the casket, and took it up ; 
 then, still fronting the window and the women at it, he sidled 
 towards the door, keeping the mother-of-pearl box carefully 
 out of sight. 
 
 Having reached the door, he asked Percenez if he would 
 accompany him for a stroll. The colporteur gladly consented, 
 and followed him out of the room. 
 
 The mother and daughter still maintained their position at 
 the open window, till suddenly the former threw up her hands 
 with a cry of dismay, sprang abruptly into the middle of the 
 room, and shrieked out, ' I am betrayed ! the thief ! the rogue ! 
 the malicious one ! He has carried off the mother-of-pearl 
 box. I saw it under his arm. He showed it to Etienne, and 
 laughed as he crossed the street. Madeleine ! what shall we 
 do } We will take poison, and die in one another's arms ! * 
 Then, after a volley of shrieks, she fell on her daughter's neck 
 and deluged her with tears. 
 
 VOL. I. U
 
 290 IN EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 ' I think that was a skilfully-executed manoeuvre of my 
 father's,' said Nicholas, aside. 
 
 Gabrielle smiled; but then, observing how distressed was 
 her hostess, she said, in a low voice, ' I am afraid your 
 mother is heart-broken over her loss.' 
 
 'Yes, for half an hour, and then she will have forgotten 
 all about it. You will see, when my father returns, it will be 
 with a locket, or a brooch, or a ribbon, and then she will be 
 all " ecstasy and raptures," and will kiss him on both cheeks, 
 and pronounce him the best of husbands.' 
 
 Gabrielle looked up into his face with an expression of 
 delight in her eyes and on her lips. 
 
 The young man's eyes rested on her countenance with 
 pleasure. After a moment's hesitation, he said : 
 
 ' Mademoiselle Gabrielle, may I ask you one little favour ? 
 I know I have not deserved it by anything I have done, 
 but you will confer a debt of gratitude on my father and on 
 me if you will accede to my request.' 
 
 'What is it?' asked the girl, opening her eyes very wide, 
 and wondering very greatly what he meant. 
 
 ' Will you promise me not to take part with my mother 
 and Madeleine against the Swiss.? My father laughs, and I 
 laugh, but what they say cuts us, — sometimes deeply. We 
 are proud of our country ;' he brushed his hair from his brow 
 and straightened himself, his attitude and action a repro-
 
 IN EX ITU ISRAEL 291 
 
 duction of his father. ' We have reason to be proud of 
 it, and we do not hke to be joked about it, and to hear 
 slurs cast on it. Oh ! Mademoiselle Gabrielle, I do not 
 know why I ask this of you, but I should feel it dread- 
 fully if you joined them against us, and so, too, would my 
 father.' 
 
 * I promise with all my heart.' 
 
 ' That is delightful ! ' exclaimed Nicholas, clapping his hands, 
 whilst a joyous flush overspread his open countenance; 'and 
 then, there is something more.' His face grew solemn at 
 once. ' Do not speak against, or make a joke about, Bruder 
 Klaus. You do not know what a man that was, what a 
 saint he is, what he did for his country, what a miraculous 
 life he led, what wonders are wrought yet at his tomb. 
 You should have seen his portrait — the grave white face, 
 and the eyes reddened with weeping, and the sunken cheeks ! 
 Oh, Mademoiselle Gabrielle, you may be sure that, among 
 the greatest of saints, our Bruder Klaus ' 
 
 'What !' exclaimed ^Madame Deschwanden, looking up from 
 her daughter's shoulder, as she caught the word ; * if that boy 
 is not dinning Bruder Klaus into Mademoiselle Andre's ear 
 already. Was ever a woman so overwhelmed, so haunted as 
 I am with these ragged old Swiss hermits } I have the night- 
 mare, and dream that Bruder Klaus is dancing on my breast. 
 I look out of the window in the dark, and see Bruder Klaus 
 
 u 2
 
 292 nv EX ITU ISRAEL. 
 
 jabbering in the gloom, and pointing at me with his stick. I 
 wish to goodness the precious Bruder had committed a mortal 
 sin, and his sanctity had gone to the dogs, I do ! ' 
 
 Nicholas drew nearer to Gabrielle, as though shrinking from 
 his stepmother's expressions as impious, and willing to screen 
 the girl from their pernicious influence. He stooped towards 
 her, with his great blue eyes fastened on her with intensity of 
 earnestness, as he whispered : 
 
 ' You will promise me that ? Oh ! please do, dear mademoi- 
 selle!' 
 
 ' Certainly I will,' answered Gabrielle, frankly looking at 
 him. 
 
 He caught her hand and kissed it, and then precipitately 
 left the room. 
 
 END OF VOL. I.
 
 i6, Bedford Street, Covent Garden, London. 
 
 May, 1870. 
 
 Macmillan &~ Co:s General Catalogue 
 of Works in the Depa7^tinents of History ^ 
 Biography, Travels, Poetry, and Belles 
 Lettres. With some short Account or 
 Critical Notice concerning each Book. 
 
 SECTION I. 
 
 HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, and TRAVELS. 
 Baker (Sir Samuel W.).— THE NILE TRIBUTARIES OF 
 
 ABYSSINIA, and the Sword Hunters of the Hamran Arabs. 
 By Sir Samuel W. Baker, M.A., F.R.G.S. With Portraits, 
 Maps, and Illustrations. Third Edition, 8vo. 21s. 
 
 Sir Samuel Baker here describes tivelve 7nonths' exploration, durin\; 
 which he exatnitted the rivers that are tributary to the Nile fro jji Abyssinia, 
 including the Atbara, Settite, Roy an, Salaa?n, Angrab, Rahad, Binder, 
 ajtd the Blue Nile. The interest attached to these portions 0/ Africa differs 
 entirely from that of the White Nile regions, as the whole of Upper Egypt 
 and Abyssinia is capable of droelopment, and is inhabited by races having 
 so7ne degree of civilization; tuhile Central Africa is peopled by a race of 
 savages, whose future is more problematical. 
 
 THE ALBERT N'YANZA Great Basin of the Nile, and Explo- 
 ration of the Nile Sources. New and Cheaper Edition, with 
 Portraits, Maps, and Illustrations, Two vols, crown 8vo. i6j. 
 
 '^ Bruce won the source of the Blue Nile; Speke and Grant won the 
 Victoria source of the great White Nile ; and I have been permitted to 
 
 A^^^ A 
 
 10.000.5.70
 
 GENERAL CATALOGUE. 
 
 Baker (Sir Samuel W.) {continued)— 
 
 succeed in completing the Nile Sources by the discovery of the great 
 reservoir of the equatorial waters, the Albert Nyanza, from which the 
 river issues as the entire White Nile.'" — Preface. 
 
 NEW AND CHEAP EDITION OF THE ALBERT N'YANZA. 
 
 I vol. crown 8vo. With Maps and Illustrations, 'js. 6d. 
 
 Barker (Lady).— station life in new Zealand. 
 
 By Lady Barker. Crown 8vo. 'js. 6d. 
 
 " These letters are the exact account of a ladys experience of the brighter 
 and less practical side of colonization. They record the expeditions, ad- 
 ventures, and einergencies diversifying the daily life of the wife of a Neiu 
 Zealand sheepfarjner ; and, as each was written while the novelty and 
 excitement of the scenes it describes were fresh upon her, they 7?iay succeed 
 in giving hej'e in England an adequate i7npression of the delight and free- 
 dom of a7i existence so far rernovedfrom our own highly -zvr ought civiliza- 
 tion.'' — Preface, 
 
 " We have never read a more truthful or a pleasantcr little booV 
 
 Athen.^um. 
 
 Baxter (R. Dudley, M.A.).— THE TAXATION OF THE 
 UNITED KINGDOM. By R. Dudley Baxtef, M.A. 8vo. 
 cloth, 4$-. 6^. 
 
 The First Part of this work, originally read before the Statistical 
 Society of London, deals with the Amount of Taxation; the Second Fan, 
 which n(rdj constitutes the main portion of the work, is almost entirely new, 
 and embraces the important questions of Rating, of the relative Taxation 
 of Land, Fersonalty, and Industry, and of the direct efect of Taxes upon 
 Frices. The author trusts that the body of facts here collected may be of 
 permanent value as a record of the past progress and present condition of 
 the population of the United Ki?tgdom, independently of the transitory 
 circu7nstances of its prese7it Taxation. 
 
 NATIONAL INCOME. With Coloured Diagrams. Svo. 3^. 6d. 
 
 Part \. — Classification of the Fopulatio7t, Upper, Middle, a 7id Labour 
 Classes. \\.—l7ico77ie of the U7iited Ki7igdo7n. 
 
 " A pai7istaki7ig and certai7ily most i7iteresti7ig inquiry. "—Pall Mall 
 Gazette.
 
 HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, &- TRAVELS. 
 
 Bernard.— FOUR LECTURES ON SUBJECTS CONNECTED 
 
 WITH DIPLOMACY. By Mouxtague Bernard, M.A., 
 
 Chichele Professor of International Law and Diplomacy, Oxford. 
 
 8vo. gs. 
 
 Four Lediwes , dealing -with (i) The Congress of Westphalia; (2) Syste?>is 
 
 cf Policy ; (3) Diplomacy, Past and Present; (4) The Obligations oj 
 
 Treaties. 
 
 Blake.— THE LIFE OF WILLIAM BLAKE, THE ARTIST. 
 By Alexander Gilchrist. With numerous Illustrations from 
 Blake's designs, and Fac-similes of liis studies of the " Book of 
 Job." Two vols, medium 8vo. 32^. 
 
 These volumes contain a Life of Blake ; Selections from his JVritings, 
 including Poems ; Letters ; Annotated Catalogue of Pictures and Drawings, 
 List, with occasional notes, of Blake's Engi'avings and Writings. Thei'c 
 are appoided Engraved Designs by Blake ; ( I ) The Book of Job, twenty- 
 one photo-lithographs from the original: ; (2) Songs of Innocence and 
 Experioice, sixteen of the original Plates. 
 
 Blanford (W. T.).— geology and zoology of 
 
 ABYSSINIA. By W. T. Blanford. 8vo. 2\s. 
 
 This luork coTitains an account of the Geological and Zoological 
 Observations made by the Author in Abyssinia, when accompanying the 
 British Army on its march to Magdala and back in 1868, ajid during a 
 short journey in Norther7t Abyssinia, after the departure of the troops. 
 Parti. Personal Narrative; Part II. Geology; Part III Zoology. 
 With Coloured Illustrations and Geological Map. 
 
 Bright (John, M. P.).— SPEECHES ON QUESTIONS OF 
 
 PUBLIC POLICY. By the Right Hon. John Bright, M. P. 
 
 Edited by Professor Thorold Rogers. Two vols. Svo. 25J. 
 
 Second Edition, with Portrait. 
 
 " / have divided the Speeches contaijied in these volumes into groups. 
 
 The materials for selection are so abimdant, that I have been constrained 
 
 to omit many a speech which is worthy of careful perusal. I have 
 
 naturally given prominence to those subjects with which Mr. Bright has 
 
 been especially identified, as, for example, India, America, Ireland, and 
 
 Parliamentary Reform. But nearly roery topic of great public interest on 
 
 which Mr. Bright has spoken is represented in these volu^^s.^'' 
 
 Editor's Preface, 
 A 2
 
 GENERAL CATALOGUE, 
 
 Bright, (John, M.P.) {continned) — 
 
 AUTHOR'S POPULAR EDITION. Extra fcap. 8vo. cloth. Second 
 Edition, y. 6d. 
 
 Bryce.— THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE. By James Bryce, 
 B.C.L., Fellow of Oriel College, Oxford. \Reprinting. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE CHARACTERISTICS. See Mullinger. 
 
 CHATTERTON : A Biographical Study. By Daniel Wilson, 
 LL.D., Professor of History and English Literature in University 
 College, Toronto. Crown 8vo. 6s. 6d. 
 
 The Author here regards Chatterton as a Poet, 7iot as a mere " resetter 
 and defacer of stolen literary treasures.'''' Revieived in this light, he has 
 found iHuch in the old materials capable of being turned to ftezu account ; 
 and to these 7naterials research ifi various directions has enabled him to 
 make some additions. 
 
 Clay.— THE PRISON CHAPLAIN. A Memoir of the Rev. John 
 Clay, B.D., late Chaplain of the Preston Gaol. With Selections 
 from his Reports and Correspondence, and a Sketch of Prison 
 Discipline in England. By his Son, the Rev. W. L. Clay, M.A. 
 8vo. I5J-. 
 
 " Fezv books have appeared of late years better e7ititled to a7i attentive 
 penisal. . . . It prese7its a co77iplete narrative of all that ha^ bee7i do7i€ a7td 
 atte77ipted by various phila7ith7'opists Jor the a77ieliorat'io7i of the co7iditio7t a7id 
 the improve7ne7it of the 7Jio7-als of the C7'i77iinal classes i7i the British 
 do7ni7iio7is. " — London Revifav. 
 
 Cobden.— SPEECHES ON QUESTIONS OF PUBLIC 
 POLICY. By Richard Cobden. Edited by the Right Hon. 
 John Bright, M.P , and Professor Rogers. Two vols. Bvo. With 
 Portrait. (Uniform with Bright's Speeches.) 
 
 Cooper. — ATHENE CANTABRIGIENSES. By Charles 
 Henry Cooper, F.S.A., and Thompson Cooper, F.S.A. 
 Vol. I. Bvo., 1500—85, i8j. Vol. II., 1586— 1609, i8x. 
 
 This elabo7'ate work, which is dedicated by per77iissio7i to Lo7'd Macaulay, 
 €ontai7ts lives of the e7?ii7tent 7ne7i se7it fo7-th by Camb7-idge, after the 
 fashion of A7ttho/ty h Wood, i7t hisfaf7ious ^^ A the nee Oxo7tie7tses."
 
 HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, &- TRAVELS. 5 
 
 Cox (G. v., M. A.).— RECOLLECTIONS OF OXFORD. 
 By G. V, Cox, M.A., New College, Late Esquire Bedel and 
 Coroner in the University of Oxford. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 
 los. 6d. 
 
 *^ An anmsi7tg{-2ccx2.go, of anecdote, and iinll pleasantly recall in jfiany 
 a country parsonage the memory of yojithful days^ — Times. 
 
 Dicey (Edward).— THE MORNING LAND. By Edward 
 Dicey. Two vols, crown 8vo. i6j-. 
 '■'■All invitatio7i to be present at the opejiing of the Suez Canal was the 
 immediate cause of my journey. But I made it my object also to see as 
 much of the Morning Land, of whose marvels the canal across the 
 Isthmus is only the least and latest, as tijne and opportunity would permit. 
 The result of my observations was communicated to the journal I then 
 represented, i7i a series of letters, which I noiu give to the public in a 
 collected form.'' — Extract from Author's Preface. 
 
 Dilke. — GREATER BRITAIN. A Record of Travel in English- 
 speaking Countries during 1866-7. (America, Australia, India.) 
 By Sir Charles Wentworth Dilke, M.P. Fifth and Cheap 
 Edition. Crown 8vo. 6^. 
 " Mr. Dilke has written a book which is probably as well ivorth reading 
 as any book of the sanie aims and characta- that roer xoas written. Its 
 merits a)-e that it is written in a lively and agreeable style, that it ijnplies 
 a great deal of physical pluck, that no page of it fails to shoxv an acute and 
 highly intelligent observer, that it stimulates the imagination as well as the 
 judgmejit of the reader, and that it is on perhaps the most interesting 
 subject that can attract an Englishman i>:ho cares about his country.'''' 
 
 Saturday Review. 
 
 Durer (Albrecht).— HISTORY OF THE LIFE OF AL- 
 BRECHT DURER, of Numberg. With a Translation of his 
 Letters and Journal, and some account of his works. By Mrs 
 Charles Heaton. Royal 8vo. bevelled boards, extra gilt. 31J. dd. 
 This work contains about Thirty Illustrations, ten ofzvhich are produc- 
 tions by the Autotype [carbon) process, and are printed in permanent tints 
 by Messrs. Cutidall and Fleming, under license from the Autotype Com- 
 pany, Limited; the rest are Photographs and Woodcuts. 
 
 EARLY EGYPTIAN HISTORY FOR THE YOUNG. See 
 " Juvenile Section."
 
 GENERAL CATALOGUE. 
 
 Elliott. — LIFE OF HENRY VENN ELLIOTT, ot Brighton. 
 By JosiAH Batemax, M.A., Author of "Life of Daniel Wilson, 
 Bishop of Calcutta," &c. With Portrait, engraved by Jeens ; 
 and an Appendix containing a short sketch of the life of the Rev. 
 Julius Elliott (who met with accidental death while ascending the 
 Schreckhom in July, 1869. ) Crown 8vo. 8j. 6^. Second Edition, 
 with Appendix. 
 
 "^ very charmhig piece of religions biography; no one can read it 
 7vit/iout both pleasure and profit.'" — British Quarterly Review. 
 
 Fairfax.— A life of the great lord Fairfax, 
 
 Commander-in-Chief of the Army of the Parliament of England. 
 By Clements R. Markham, F.S.A. With Portraits, Maps, 
 Plans, and Illustrations. Demy 8vo. i6j-. 
 
 No full Life of the great Parliamentary Commander has appeared: 
 and it is here sought to produce one — based upon careful research in con- 
 iempo7-ary records afid upon family and other documents, 
 
 Forbes. — LIFE OF PROFESSOR EDWARD FORBES, 
 F.R.S, By George Wilson, M.D., F.R.S.E., and Archibald 
 Geikie, F.R.S. 8vo, with Portrait, I4j-. 
 
 ^^ From the first page to the last the book claims careful reading, as being 
 a full but not overcrowded reheat'sal of a most instructive life, and the true 
 picture of a mind that was rare in strength and beauty.^'' — Examiner. 
 
 Freeman.— HISTORY OF federal government, 
 
 from the Foundation of the Achaian League to the Disniption of 
 the United States. By Edward A. Freeman, M.A. Vol. I. 
 General Introduction. History of the Greek Federations. 8vo. 
 21J. 
 
 " The task Mr. Freeman has iindertaken is one of great magnitude and 
 importance. It is also a task of an almost entirely novel charactei'. No 
 other zvork professing to give the history of a political principle occurs to 
 us, except the slight co7itributions to the history of representative govern- 
 ment that is contained in a course of M. Guizot's lectures .... The 
 history of the development of a principle is at least as important as the 
 history of a dynasty, or of a race."" —Saturday Review.
 
 HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, &- TRAVELS. 7 
 
 Freeman {continued)— 
 
 OLD ENGLISH HLSTORY FOR CHILDREN. By Edward A. 
 
 Freeman, M.A., late Fellow of Trinity College, Oxford, With 
 
 Five Coloured Maps. Extra fcap. 8vo., half-bound. 6j-. 
 
 ** Its object is to show that clear, accurate, and scientific vieivs of history, 
 
 or indeed of any subject, may be easily given to children from the veiy 
 
 first. . . I have, I hope, shoivn that it is perfectly easy to teach children, from 
 
 the very first, to distinguish triie history alike font legend and from wilful 
 
 invention, and also to tinderstand the nature of historical autho7'ities, and 
 
 to weigh one statement against another. . . . . I have throughout striven to 
 
 connect the history of England with the general history of civilized Europe, 
 
 afid I have especially tried to make the book serve as an incejttive to a more 
 
 accurate study of historical geography.^'' — Preface. 
 
 French (George Russell). — shakspeareana 
 
 GENEALOGICA. 8vo. cloth extra, 15^. Uniform with the 
 "Cambridge Shakespeare." 
 Part I. — Identification of the dramatis personse in the historical plays, 
 from King John to King IIe7try VIII. ; Notes on Characters in Macbeth 
 and Hamlet ; Peisons and Places belonging to Warwickshire alluded to. 
 Part II. — The Shakspeare and Arden families and their connexions, with 
 Tables of descent. The present is the first attempt to give a detailed de- 
 scription, in consecutive order, of each of the dramatis persons z« Shak- 
 speare' s immortal chronicle-histories, and some of the characters have been^ 
 it is believed, ho'ein identified for the fist time A clue is furnished which, 
 followed up tuith ordinary diligence, may enable any one, with a taste for 
 the pursuit, to trace a distinguished Shakspearean 7vorthy to his lineal 
 representative in the present day. 
 
 Galileo. — THE PRIVATE LIFE OF GALILEO. Compiled 
 
 principally from his Correspondence and that of his eldest 
 
 daughter, Sister Maria Celeste, Nun in the Franciscan Convent of 
 
 S. Matthew in Arcetri. With Portrait. Crown 8vo. "js. dd. 
 
 It has been the efideavour of the cornpiler to place before the reader a 
 
 plain, ungarhled statement of facts ; and as a means to this end, to allow 
 
 Galileo, his friends, and his judges to speak for themselves as Jar as possible. 
 
 Gladstone (Right. Hon. W. E., M.P.).— JUVENTUS 
 
 MUNDI. The Gods and Men of the Heroic Age, Crown 8vo. 
 cloth extra. With Map. lo.r. Gd. Second Edition.
 
 GENERAL CATALOGUE. 
 
 Gladstone (Right. Hon. W. E., yi.V.){contmued)~ 
 
 This new ivork of Mr. Gladstone deals especially with the historic 
 element in Homer, expotmdijig that element and furnishing by its aid a 
 full account of the Homeric men and the Home7-ic 7-eligion. It starts, after 
 the introducto7y chapter, with a discussion of the several races then existing 
 in Hellas, ijicluding the influence of the Phxnicians and Egyptians. It 
 contains chapters on the Olympian systet?i, with its several deities ; on the 
 Ethics and the Polity of the Heroic age ; on the geography of Homer ; on 
 the characters of the Poems ; presenting, in fine, a vieiv of primitive life 
 and pritnitive society as found in the poems of Homer. To this New 
 Edition various additions have been made. 
 
 "GLOBE" ATLAS OF EUROPE. Uniform in size with Mac- 
 millan's Globe Series, containing 45 Coloured Maps, on a uniform 
 scale and projection ; with Plans of London and Paris, and a 
 copious Index, Strongly bound in half-morocco, with flexible 
 back, 9J-. 
 
 This Atlas includes all the countries of Europe in a series of 48 Maps, 
 drawn on the same scale, with an Alphabetical Index to the situation of 
 more than ten thousand places, and the relation of the various maps and 
 countries to each other is defined in a general Key-map. All the maps 
 being 071 a uniform scale facilitates the compai'ison of exteiit and distance, 
 and conveys a just impression of the relative magnitude of different countries. 
 The size suffices to shozu the provincial divisions, the railways and main 
 roads, the principal rive7-s aftd 77iou7ttai7t ra7iges. ^^This atlas," writes the 
 ]3ritish Quarterly, " %vill be an i7ivaluable boon for the school, the desk, or 
 the t/'avellei-'s po}-t77ianteau. " 
 
 Godkin (James). — the land war in Ireland, a 
 
 History for the Times. By James Godkin, Author of "Ireland 
 and her Churches," late Irish Correspondent of the Times. 8vo. \2s. 
 A History of the I/ish land Question. 
 
 Guizot. — (Author of "John Halifax, Gentleman.")— M. DE 
 BARANTE, a Memoir, Biographical and AutobiographicaL By 
 M. Guizot. Translated by the Author of "John Halifax, 
 Gentleman." Crown 8vo. 6s. 6d. 
 
 " The highest purposes of both histoiy and biography are a7is7ce7-ed by a 
 7/>emoir so lifelike, so faithful, a7td so philosophical.''' 
 
 British Quarterly Review.
 
 HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, &- TRAVELS. 
 
 HISTORIC Al. SELECTIONS. Readings from the best Authorities 
 on English and European History. Selected and arranged by 
 E. M. Sew ELL and C. M. Yoxge. Crown 8vo. 6s, 
 
 IVJieii young children have acqtiired the outlines of history from abridge- 
 ments and catechisf?is, and it becomes desirable to give a more enlarged 
 vietv of the subject, in order to render it really useftd and ijiteresting, a 
 difficulty often arises as to the choice of books. Two courses are open, eithei- 
 to take a general and consequently dry history oj facts, such as RusselV s 
 Moda'n Europe, or to choose sojfie work treating of a particular period or 
 subject, such as the works op Macaulay ajtd Froude. The former course 
 usually rendei's history uninteresting ; the latter is unsatisfactory, because 
 it is not sufficiently comprehejisive. To reniedy this difficulty, selections, 
 continuous and cfironological, have in ifie present volume been ta/cen from 
 the larger works of Freeman, Milman, Palgraze, and otJiers, whic/i may 
 serve as distinct landmarJis of fiistorical reading. " IVe knoiv of scarcely 
 anytfiing," says the Guardian, of this volume, ^^ whic/i is so likely to raise 
 to a higher level the average standard of English education.'''' 
 
 Hole.— A GENEALOGICAL STEMMA OF THE KINGS OF 
 ENGLAND AND FRANCE. By the Rev. C. Hole, iSI.A., 
 Trinity College, Cambridge. On Sheet, \s. 
 
 The different families are printed in distinguishing colours, thus facili- 
 tating reference. 
 
 A BRIEF BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY. Compiled and 
 Arranged by the Rev. Charles Hole, M.A. Second Edition. 
 l8mo. neatly and strongly bound in cloth, \s. 6d. 
 
 One of the most comprefiensive and accurate Biographical Diciwnaries 
 in the world, containing more than \%,ooo persons of all countries, with 
 dates of birth and death, ajtd wfiat they were distinguisJicd for. Extreme 
 care has been bestowed on the verif cation of the dates ; attd thus nuinei-ous 
 errors, current in i>revious works, have been corrected. Its size adapts it 
 jor the desk, portmanteau, or pocket. 
 
 "An invaluable addition to our manuals oj reference, and, from its 
 moderate price, cannot fail to become as popular as it is useful.'" — Times.
 
 lo GENERAL CATALOGUE. 
 
 Hozier. — the seven weeks' war ; Its Antecedents and 
 its Incidents. By H. M. HoziER. With Maps and Plans. Two 
 vols. 8vo. 28^. 
 
 This work is based upon letters reprinted by permission from " The 
 Times. " For the most part it is a product of a personal eye-ivitness of some 
 of the most interesting incidents of a war which, for rapidity and decisive 
 results, may claim an almost unrivalled position i7t history. 
 
 THE BRITISH EXPEDITION TO ABYSSINIA. Compiled from 
 Authentic Documents. By Captain Henry M. Hozier, late 
 Assistant Military Secretary to Lord Napier of Magdala. Svo. gs. 
 
 "' Several accojints of the British Expedition have been published. .... 
 They have, however, been writteyt by those who have not had access to those 
 authentic docu7nents, which cannot be collected directly after the termination 
 
 of a campaign The endeavo7ir of the author oj this sketch has been to 
 
 present to readers a succinct and impartial account oj an enterpi'ise which 
 has raielv been equalled in the aiinals of war T — Preface. 
 
 Irving.— THE ANNALS OF OUR TIME. A Diurnal of Events, 
 Social and Political, which have happened in or had relation to 
 the Kingdom of Great Britain, from the Accession ot Queen 
 Victoria to, the Opening of the present Parliament. By JOSEPH 
 Irving. Svo. half-bound. \%s. 
 
 " We have before us a trusty and ready guide to the evejits of the past 
 thirty years, available equally for the statestnan, the politician, the public 
 writer, and the genei-al reader. If Mr. L'ving's object has been to bring 
 before the readei- all the most noteiuoi-thy occurrences zvkich have happened 
 since the beginning of Her Majestfs reign, he may justly claitn the credit 
 of having done so most briefly, succinctly, and simply, and in such a 
 manner, too, as to furnish hif?i with the details necessary in each case to 
 comprehend the evetit of which he is in search iji an ijitelligent manner. 
 Reflection will serve to show the great value oj such a work as this to the 
 journalist and statesman, and indeed to every one who feels an intei'est in 
 the progress of the age ; and we may add ihat its value is considerably in- 
 creased by the addition of that most importajit of all appendices, an 
 accurate and instructive index." — Times.
 
 HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, &- TRAVELS. ii 
 
 Kingsley (Canon).— on the ancien REGIME as ii 
 
 Existed on the Continent betore the French Revolution, 
 Three Lectures delivered at the Royal Institution. By the Rev. 
 C. Kingsley, M.A., formerly Professor of Modern History 
 in the University of Cambridge. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 
 These three lectures discuss srjeraUy (i) Caste, (2) Centralization, (3) 
 The Explosive Forces by which the Revolution was superinduced. The 
 Preface deals at some length with certain political questions of the present 
 day. 
 
 THE ROMAN AND THE TEUTON. A Series of Lectures 
 delivered before the University of Cambridge. By Rev. C. 
 Kingsley, M.A. 8vo. 12s. 
 
 Contents •.—Tnangnral Lecture ; The Eorest Children ; The Dying 
 Ejnpire ; The Human Debcge ; The Gothic Civilizer; Dietrich' s End; The 
 NetJiesis cf the Goths ; Paulus Diaconus ; The Clergy and the Heathen ; 
 The Monk a Civilizer ; The Lombard La^i^s ; The Popes and the Lombards ; 
 The Strategy of Providence. 
 
 Kingsley (Henry, F.R.G.S.).— TALES OF OLD 
 
 TRAVEL. Re-narrated by Henry Kingsley, F.R.G.S. With 
 Eight Illustrations by HUARD. Crown Svo. ds. 
 
 Contents -.—Marco Polo ; The Shipnureck ofPelsart; The Wondoful 
 Adventures of Andrew Battel; The Wanderings of a Capuchin; Peter 
 Carder; The Preservation of the " Terra A^ova ;'' Spitzbergen ; DErme- 
 nonville' s Acclimatization Adventure ; The Old Slave Trade; Miles Philips ; 
 The Sufferings of Robert Everard ; John Fox ; Alvaro Nunez; The Foun- 
 datio7i of an Empire. 
 
 Latham. — black and white : A journal of a Three Months' 
 Tour in the United States. By Henry Latham, M. A., Barrister- 
 at-Law. Svo. loj. dd. 
 
 " The spirit in zvhich Mr. Latham has written about our brethren in 
 America is commendable in his^-h degree.'" — Athen.t^um.
 
 GENERAL CATALOGUE. 
 
 Law. — THE ALPS OF HANNIBAL. By William John Law, 
 M.A., formerly Student of Christ Church, Oxford. Two vols. 
 8vo. 21S. 
 
 " No one can read the work and not acquire a conviction that^ in 
 addition to a thorough grasp of a particular topic, its turiter has at 
 conwiand a large store of reading and thought upon many cognate points 
 of ancient history and geography.''— Cl\]A.KiEKi.-Y Review. 
 
 Liverpool.— THE LIFE AND ADMINISTRATION OF 
 ROBERT BANKS, SECOND EARL OF LIVERPOOL, K.G. 
 Compiled from Original Family Documents by Charles Duke 
 YoN'GE, Regius Professor of History and English Literature in 
 Queen's College, Belfast ; and Author of " The History of the 
 British Navy," " The History of France under the Bourbons," etc. 
 Three vols. 8vo. 42^. 
 
 Since the time of Lord Burleigh no one, except the second Pitt, ever 
 enjoyed so long a tenure of power ; with the same exception, no one ever 
 held ojice at so critical a time .... Lord Liverpool is the very last 
 minister zaho has been able fully to carjy out his own political views ; who 
 has been so strong that in matters of general policy the Opposition could 
 extort no concessions from him which were not sanctioned by his own 
 deliberate judgment. The present work is founded almost entirely on the 
 correspondence left behind him by Lord Liverpool, and now in the possession 
 of Colonel and Lady Cathei'ine Harcourt. 
 
 "■Full of information and instruction^ —Yo^T'tkiGWiiX Review. 
 Maclear. — See Section "Ecclesiastical History." 
 Macmillan (Rev. Hugh). — HOLIDAYS ON HIGH 
 
 LANDS ; or, Rambles and Incidents in search of Alpine Plants. 
 By the Rev. Hugh Macmillan, Author of "Bible Teachings in 
 Nature," etc. Crown 8vo. cloth, ds. 
 
 " Botanical knowledge is blended with a love of fiature, a pious en- 
 thusiasm, and a rich felicity of diction not to be met with in any works 
 of kindred character, if we except those of Hugh Miller.'" —T>M\.\ 
 Telegraph.
 
 HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, b- TRAVELS. 13 
 
 Macmillan (Rev. Hugh), {continued)— 
 
 FOOT-NOTES FROM THE PAGE OF NATURE. With 
 numerous Illustrations. Fcap. 8vo. ^s. 
 
 " Those %vho have derived pleasure and p7-ofit from the study 0/ flowe)-s 
 and ferns — subjects, it is pleasing to fitid, nozv everynvhere popidar — by 
 descending lower into the arcana of the vegetable kingdom, will find a still 
 more interesting and delightful field of research in the objects brought under 
 reviav in the following pages T — Preface, 
 
 BIBLE TEACHINGS IN NATURE. Fourth Edition. Fcap 8vo. 
 6s.— See also "Scientific Section." 
 
 Martin (Frederick) THE STATESMAN'S YEAR-BOOK : 
 
 A Statistical and Historical Account of the States of the Civilized 
 World. Manual for Politicians and Merchants for the year 1870. 
 By Frederick Martin. Seventh Annual Publication. Crown 
 Svo. IOJ-. 6d. 
 
 The new issue has been entirely re-written, revised, and corrected, on the 
 basis of official reports received direct from the heads of the leading Govern- 
 nunts of the World, in reply to letters sent to them by the Editor. 
 
 ''^Everybody who kjiows this work is aware that it is a book that is indis- 
 pensable to writers, financiers, politicians, states77ien, and all who are 
 directly or indirectly interested in the political, social, industrial, com- 
 mercial, and finaitcial condition of their fellow-creatures at home and 
 abroad. Mr. Martin deserves warm com?nendation for the care he takes 
 in making ' The Statesmafi's Year Book'' complete a?id C07'rect.'" 
 
 Standard. 
 
 HANDBOOK OF CONTEMPORARY BIOGRAPHY. By 
 Frederick Martin, Author of "The Statesman's Ycar-Book." 
 Extra fcap. Svo. 6s. 
 
 This volu77ie is an atter7ipt to produce a book of referc/icc, fur7iishing in 
 a C07ide7tscd for77i so7ne biographical particulars of 7iotable living 77ien. 
 The leadi7tg idea has been to give only fa^ts, and those in the brief est forvi , 
 and to exclude opinions.
 
 14 GENERAL CATALOGUE. 
 
 Martineau. — BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES, 1852— 1868. 
 By Harriet INIartineau. Third Edition, with New Preface. 
 Crown 8vo. 8^-. 6^. 
 
 A Collection of Memoirs under these several sections: — (i) Royal, (2) 
 Politicians, (3) Professional, (4) Scientific, (5) Social, (6) Literary. These 
 Memoirs appeared 07'iginally in the columns of the " Daily News." 
 
 Masson (Professor). — ESSAYS, BIOGRAPHICAL AND 
 CRITICAL. See Section headed " Poetry AND Belles Lettres.' 
 
 LIFE OF JOHN MILTON. Narrated in connexion with the 
 PoHtical, Ecclesiastical, and Literary History of his Time. By 
 David Masson, M.A., LL.D., Professor of Rhetoric at Edin- 
 burgh. Vol. I. with Portraits. 8vo. i8j-. Vol. II. in the Press. 
 
 // is intended to exhibit Milton s life in its connexions with all the more 
 notable phenomena of the period of British history in which it was cast — 
 its state politics, its ecclesiastical variations, its literature a?id speculative 
 thought. Cominencing in 1608, the Life of Milton proceeds through the 
 last sixteen years of the reign of James /., includes the whole of the reign 
 of Charles I. and the subsequent years of the Comfnonwealth and tJie 
 Protectorate, and then, passing the Restoration, extends itself to 1674, or 
 through fourteen years of the new state of things under Charles II. The 
 first volume deals with the life of Milton as extending prom 1608 to 1640, 
 which was the pci'iod of his education and of his minor poems. 
 
 Morison.— THE LIFE AND TIMES OF SAINT BERNARD, 
 Abbot of Clairvaux; By James Cotter Morison, M.A. New 
 Edition, revised. Crown 8vo. 7^-. 6d. 
 
 " One of the best contributions in our literature towards a vivid, intel- 
 ligent, and worthy knowledge of European interests and thoughts and 
 feelings during the twelfth century. A delightful and instructive volume, 
 a?id one of the best products of the 7nodern historic spirit."" 
 
 Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 Morley (John). — EDMUND BURKE, a Historical Study. By 
 John Morley, B.A. Oxon. Crown 8vo. 7^. dd.
 
 HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, &^ TRAVELS. 
 
 " T/ie style is terse a7id incisive, and brilliant zuit/i epigram and point. 
 It contains pithy aphoristic sentejices which Burke himself would not have 
 disowned. But these are not its best features : its sustained power 0/ 
 reasoning, its wide S7.veep of observation and reflection, its elevated ethical 
 and social tone, statnp it as a work of high excellence, and as such we 
 cordially 7-ecominend it to our readers." — Saturday Review. 
 
 Mullinger.— CAMBRIDGE CHARACTERISTICS IN THE 
 SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. By J. B. Mullinger, B.A. 
 Crown 8vo. AgS. 6d. 
 
 It is a very entertaining and readable book." — Saturday Review, 
 
 " The chapters on the Cartesian Philosophy and the Cambridge Platonists 
 are admirable. ' ' — Athex^UM. 
 
 Palgrave. — history of normandy and of Eng- 
 land. By Sir Francis Palgrave, Deputy Keeper of Her 
 Majesty's Public Records. Completing the History to the Death 
 of William Rufus. Four vols. 8vo. f^ 45-. 
 
 Volume I. General Relations of Mediceval Europe — The Carlovingian 
 Empire — The Danish Expeditions in the Gauls — And the Establishment 
 of Rollo. Volume II. The Three Eirst Dukes of Normandy ; Rollo, 
 Guillaume Longue-Epee, and Richard Sans-Peur — The Carlovingian 
 line supplanted by the Capets. Volume III. Richard Sans-Peur — 
 Richard Le-Bon — Richard III. — Robert Le Diable — William the Con- 
 queror. Volume IV. IVilliafn Rufus — Accession of Henry Beauclerc. 
 
 Palgrave (W. G.). — a narrative of a year's 
 
 JOURNEY THROUGH CENTRAL AND EASTERN 
 ARABIA, 1862-3. By William Gifford Palgrave, late of 
 the Eighth Regiment Bombay N. I. Fifth and cheaper Edition. 
 With Maps, Plans, and Portrait of Author, engraved on steel by 
 Jeens. Crown 8vo. 6j. 
 
 ** Considering the extent of our previous ignorance, the a?nount of his 
 achievements, and the irnportance of his contributions to our knowledge, we 
 cannot say less of him than zvas once said of a far greater discoverer. Mr. 
 Palgrave has indeed given a new world to Europe." — Pai.l Mall Gazette.
 
 i6 GENERAL CATALOGUE. 
 
 Parkes (Henry).— AUSTRALIAN VIEWS OF ENGLAND. 
 By Henry Parkes. Crown 8vo. cloth. 3^-. dd. 
 
 " The folloiving letters were W7itten during a residence in England, in 
 the years 1 861 and 1862, and "were published in the "Sydney Morninij 
 Herald" on the arrival of the monthly mails .... On re-perusal, these 
 letters appear to contain views of English life and impressions of English 
 notabilities which, as the views and impressions of an Englishman on his 
 return to his native country after an absence of twenty years, may not be 
 ivithout interest to the English reader. The writer had opportunities of 
 mixing with different classes of the British people, arid of hearing opinions 
 on passing events from opposite standpoints of obsei-jation.'" — Author's 
 Preface. 
 
 Prichard.— THE ADMINISTRATION OF INDIA. From 
 1859 to 1868. The First Ten Years of Administration under the 
 Crown. By Iltudus Thomas Prichard, Barrister-at-Law. 
 Two vols. Demy 8vo. With Map. 2\s. 
 
 In these volntnes the author has aijned to supply a full, in/partial, ana 
 independejit account of British India between 1859 and 1868 — xvhich is 
 in many respects the most important epoch in the history of that country 
 -ivhich the present century has seen. 
 
 Ralegh.— THE LIFE OF SIR WALTER RALEGH, based 
 upon Contemporary Documents. By Edward Edwards. To- 
 gether with Ralegh's Letters, now first collected. With Portrait. 
 Two vols. 8vo. 32J-. 
 
 " Mr. Edwards has certainly luritten the Life of Ralegh from fuller 
 information than any previous biog7-apher. He is intelligent, industrious, 
 sympathetic : and the world has in his t%uo volumes larger means afforded 
 it of knowing Ralegh than it ever possessed before. The nnv letters and 
 the neivlv-edited old lettas are in themselves a boon." — Pall Malt. 
 G.\zette. 
 
 Robinson (Crabb). — DIARY, REMINISCENCES, AND 
 CORRESPONDENCE OF HENRY CRABB ROBINSON. 
 Selected and Edited by Dr. Sadler. With Portraif. Second 
 Edition. Three vols. 8vo. cloth. 36^-.
 
 HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, &- TRAVELS. 17 
 
 Mr. Crabb Robinson s Diary extends over the greater part of three- 
 quarters of a century. It contains personal reminiscences of some of the 
 most distinguished characters of that period, including Goethe, Wieland, De 
 Quincey, Wordsworth (with whom Mr. Crabb Robinson was on terms of 
 great intimacy), Madame de Stael, Lafayette, Coleridge, Lamb, Milman, 
 &=c. dr=c. : and includes a vast variety of subjects, political, literary, ecclesi- 
 astical, and miscellaneous. 
 
 Rogers (James E. Thorold).— historical GLEAN- 
 INGS : A Series of Sketches. JMontague, Walpole, Adam Smith, 
 Cobbett. By Rev. J. E- T. Rogers. Crown 8vo. 4J-. dd. 
 Professor Rogers's object in the following sketches is to present a set of 
 
 historical facts, grouped round a principal figure. The essays are in the 
 
 forvi of lectures. 
 
 HISTORICAL GLEANINGS. A Series of Sketches. By Rev. 
 J. E. T. Rogers. Second Series. Crown 8vo. ds. 
 
 A companion volume to the First Series recently published. It contains 
 papers on JViklif Laud, Wilkes, Home Tooke. In these lectures the 
 author has aimed to state the social facts of the time in which the individual 
 whose history is handled took part in piddic business. 
 
 Smith (Professor Goldwin).— thrle English 
 
 STATESMEN : PYM, CROMWELL, PIT1\ A Course of 
 Lectures on the PoHtical History of Englajid. I5y GoLUWiN 
 Smith, M. A. Extra fcap. 8vo. New and Cheaper Edition. 5j-. 
 
 "^ work which 7ieither historian nor politician can safely a ford to 
 neglect.^' — SATURDAY Review. 
 
 SYSTEMS OF LAND TENURE IN VARIOUS COUNTRIES. 
 
 A Series of Essays published under the sanction of the Couden 
 
 Club. Demy Svo. Second Edition. 12s. 
 The subjects treated are: — i. Tenure of Laiul in Ireland : 2. land 
 Lazos of England ; 3. Tenure of Land in India; 4. Land System of 
 Belgium and IIolla)ui ; 5. Agrarian Legislation of Prussia during the 
 Present Century; 6. Land System of Prance ; 7. Russian Agrarian 
 Legislation oj 1861 ; 8. Farm Land and Land Laws of the United 
 States. 
 
 K
 
 GENERAL CATALOGUE. 
 
 Tacitus. — THE HISTORY OF TACITUS, translated intc. 
 English. By A. J. Church, M.A. and W. J. Brodribb, M.A. 
 With a Map and Notes. 8vo. \os. 6d. 
 
 The translato7's have eiideavoured to adhere as closely to the original as 
 was thought coisistent with a proper observance of English idiom. At 
 the same time it has been their aim to reproduce the precise expressions oj 
 the author. This work is characterised by the Spectator as " a scholarly 
 and faithful translation.^^ 
 
 THE AGRICOLA AND GERMANIA. Translated into English by 
 A. J. Church, M.A. and W. J. Brodribb, M.A. With Maps 
 and Notes. Extra fcap. 8vo.' 2s. 6d. 
 
 The translators have sought to produce such a version as may satisfy 
 scholars who demand a faithful rendering of the original, and English 
 readers ivho are oj^ended by the baldness and frigidity zvhich comjnonly 
 disfigure translations. The treatises are accompanied by introductions, 
 notes, maps, and a chronological summary. The Athenaeum says oJ 
 this work that it is " a version at once readable and exact, which may be 
 perused with pleasure by all, and consulted with advantage by the classical 
 student. ^^ 
 
 Taylor (Rev. Isaac). — WORDS AND PLACES; or 
 
 Etymological Illustrations of History, Etymology, and Geography. 
 By the Rev. Isaac Taylor. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 
 \2s. 6d. 
 " Mr. Taylor has produced a really usefil book, and one zvhich stands 
 alone in our language." — Saturday Review. 
 
 Trench (Archbishop).— GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS : Social 
 Aspects of the Thirty Years' War. By R. Chenevix Trench, 
 D.D., Archbishop of Dublin. P'cap. Svo. 2s. 6d. 
 
 " Clear and lucid in style, these lectures zi'ill be a treasure to many to 
 whom the subject is u!fajniliar:'—T)u\ii^i^ Evening Mail. 
 
 Trench (Mrs. R.). — Edited by Archbishop Trench. Remains 
 of the late Mrs. RICHARD TRENCH. Being Selections from 
 her Journals, Letters, and other Papers, New and Cheaper Issue, 
 with Portrait, Svo. 6s.
 
 HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, &- TRAVELS. 19 
 
 Contains notices and anecdotes illnstratin g the social life of the period 
 — extending over a quarter of a centitjy (1799 — 1827). // includes also 
 poems and other miscellaneous pieces by Mrs. Trench. 
 
 Trench (Capt. F., F.R.G.S.).— the RUSSO-INDIAN 
 
 QUESTION, Historically, Strategically, and Politically con- 
 sidered. By Capt. Tre.nxh, F.R.G.S. With a Sketch of Central 
 Asiatic Politics and Map of Central Asia. Crown 8 vo. 'js. (id. 
 " The Russo-Indian, or Central Asian question has for sroeral obvious 
 reasons been attracting much public attention in England, in Russia, and 
 also on the Continent, ivithin the last year or two. . . . I have thought 
 that the present volume, givhtg a short sketch of the history of this question 
 from its earliest oigin, and condensing much of the most recent and inte- 
 resting infor}nation on the subject, and on its collateral phases, might 
 perhaps be acceptable to those zuho take an interest in it.'''' — Author's 
 Preface. 
 
 Trevelyan (G.O., M.P.).— cawnpore. illustrated with 
 
 Plan. By G. O. Trevelyan, M.P., Author of "The Com- 
 petition Wallah." Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 6j-. 
 "//z this book we are not spared one fact of the sad story ; but our 
 feelings are not harrowed by the recital of imaginary outrages. It is 
 good for us at home that we have one ivho tells his tale so well as does 
 Mr. Trrc'elyan.^' — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 THE COMPETITION WALLAH. New Edition. Crown 8vo. 6j. 
 " The earlier letters are especially interesting for their racy descriptions 
 
 of European lije ijt India Those that follow are of more serious 
 
 import, seeking to tell the truth about the Hindoo character and English 
 influences, good and bad, upon it, as zvell as to suggest some better course of 
 treatment than that hitherto adopted.'''' — Examiner. 
 
 Vaughan (late Rev. Dr. Robert, of the British 
 Quarterly). — ^IEMOIR OF ROBERT A. VAUGHAN. 
 Author of "Hours with the Mystics." By Robert Vaughan, 
 D.I). Second Edition, revised and enlarged. Extra fcap. 8vo. ^s. 
 
 " // descri'cs a place on the same shelf with Stanley'^ s ' Life of Ai'nold, ' 
 and CarlyWs ' Stirling^ Dr. Vaughan has perfornted his painful but 
 not all unpleasing task with exquisite good taste and feeling.'''' — N0NCON-. 
 
 FORMIST.
 
 GENERAL CA TA LOG UE. 
 
 Wagner.— MEMOIR OF THE REV. GEORGE WAGNER, 
 M.A., late Incumbent of St. Stephen's Church, Brighton. By the 
 Rev. J. N. SiMPKiNSON, M.A. Tliird and Cheaper Edition, cor- 
 rected and abridged. 5j-. 
 
 "^ more edifying biography we have rarely viet luithy — Literary 
 Churchman. 
 
 Wallace.— THE MALAY ARCHIPELAGO: the Land of the 
 Orang L'^tan and the Bird of Paradise. A Narrative of Travel 
 with Studies of ^Nlan and Nature. By Alfred Russel Wallace. 
 With r^Iaps and Illustrations. Second Edition. Two vols, crown 
 8vo. 2\S. 
 
 ^' A carefully and delibei-ateiy composed narrative. ... We advise 
 our readers to do as lue have done, read his hook through^ — TiMES. 
 
 Ward (Professor).— THE HOUSE OF AUSTRIA IN THE 
 THIRTY YEARS' WAR. Two Lectures, vdth Notes and Illus- 
 trations. By Adolphus W. Ward, M.A., Professor of History 
 in Owens College, Manchester. Extra fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d. 
 
 " Very cow/act and instructive.''— YoKTSiGiiTiA' Review. 
 
 Warren.— AN ESSAY ON GREEK FEDERAL COINAGE. 
 By the Hon. J. Leicester Warrek, M.A. Svo. 2s. 6d. 
 " The present essay is an atternpt to illustrate Mr. Freeman's Federal 
 Governinent by evidence deduced from the coinage ofthetirnes and countiies 
 therein treated ^"'—Preface. 
 
 Wilson. — A MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON, M. D., 
 F.R.S.E., Regius Professor of Technology in the University of 
 Edinburgh. By his Sister. New Edition. Crown Svo. ds. 
 '-'■ An exquisite and touching portrait of a rare and beautiful spirit.'' — 
 Guardian. 
 
 Wilson (Daniel, LL.D.).— PREHISTORIC ANNALS 
 OF SCOTLAND. By Daniel Wilson, LL.D., Professor of 
 History and English Literature in University College, Toronto. 
 New Edition, with numerous Illustrations. Two vols, demy 
 Svo. 36^^.
 
 HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, &-> TRAVELS. ii 
 
 This elaborate and learned work is divided into fonr Parts. Part I. 
 deals with The Primeval or Stone Period : Aborigi7ial Traces, Sepidchral 
 Memorials, Dtvellings, and Catacotnbs, Temples, Weapons, ^c. &^c. ; 
 Part II., The Bronze Period : The Metallurgic Transition, Primitive 
 Bronze, Personal Ornaments, Religion, Arts, and Domestic Habits, with 
 other topics ; Part HI, The Iron Period : The Introduction of Iron, The 
 Romaji Invasion, Strongholds, &=c. (^c; Part IV., The Christian Period : 
 Historical Data, the lYorrie's Law Relics, Primitive and Mediccval 
 Ecclesiology, Ecclesiastical and Miscellaneous Antiquities. The work is 
 furnished with an elaborate Index. 
 
 PREHISTORIC MAN. New Edition, revised and partly re- written, 
 with numerous Illustrations. One vol, 8vo. 2is. 
 
 This work, which carries out the principle of the preceding one, but with 
 a wider scope, aims to " view Alan, as far as possible, luiaffected by those 
 modifying influences which accompany the druelopment of nations and the 
 maturity of a true historic period, in order thereby to ascertain the sources 
 fro??i whence such development and maturity proceed." It contains, for 
 example, chapters on the Primrval Transition ; Speech ; Aletals ; the 
 Mound-Builders ; Primitive .Ircliitecture ; the American Type; the Red 
 Blood of the J Vest, cr'r. <^c. 
 
 CHATTERTON : A Biographical Study. By Daniel Wit.son, 
 LL.D., Professor of History and English Literature in University 
 College, Toronto. Crown 8vo. 6s. dd. 
 
 The Author here regards Chatterton as a Poet, not as a ^^ mere resetter 
 and defacer of stolen literary treasures. " Reviewed in this light, he has 
 found much in the old materials capable of being turned to new account : 
 and to these materials rcsea7'ch in vaj-ious directions has enabled hi?n to 
 m-ake some additiois.
 
 SECTION II. 
 
 POETRY AND BELLES LETTRES. 
 
 Allingham.— LAURENCE BLOOMFIELD IN IRELAND; 
 
 or, the New Landlord. By William Allingha:m. New and 
 Cheaper Issue, with a Preface. Fcap, 8vo, cloth, 45-. 6^. 
 
 In the new Preface, the state of Ireland, with special reference to the 
 Chicrch tneasnre, is discussed. 
 
 " // is vital with the national character. . . . It has something of Pope's 
 point and Goldsmith's si7nplicit)\ touched to a jnore modern issue." — 
 Athen^UM. 
 
 Arnold (Matthew). — POEMS. By Matthew Arnold. 
 Two vols. Extra fcap. 8yo. cloth. 12 J-. Also sold separately at 6^. 
 each. 
 
 Volume I. contains Narrative and Elegiac Poe?ns ; Volume II. Dra- 
 matic and lyric Poems. The two volumes comprehend the First and 
 Second Series of the Poems, and the Kruj Poems. 
 
 NEW POEMS. Extra fcap. 8vo. 6j. (yd. 
 
 Li thisvolwne will befound^^Empedoclcs on Etna ; " " Thyrsis " {xvritten 
 in com7nemoration of the late Professor Clough) ; " Epilogue to Lessing's 
 Laocobn ;" ^^ Heine's Grave f' '''■ Oberman7i once 77iore.'' All these 
 poc7?is are also i/icluded in the Editio7i {two vols. ) above-me7itio7ied. 
 
 ESSAYS IN CRITICISM. New Edition, with Additions. Extra 
 fcap. 8vo. ds. 
 Contents : — Preface ; The Fu/utio7i of Criticism at the p]-eseiit ti77ie ; 
 The Literary I7iflue7ice of Acadc7nies ; Mau7-ice de Gucrin ; Eugenie 
 de Gueri/i ; Hei7ii'ich Heine ; Paga7i a7id Mcdiarval Eeligicus Se/iti7)ie7it : 
 Joubcrt ; Spi7ioza and the Bible ; Marcus Aurclius.)
 
 POETRY &> BELLES LETTRES. 23 
 
 Arnold (Matthew) {conthmed)— 
 
 ASPRO^IOXTE, AND OTHER I'OEMS. Fcap. 8vo. cloth 
 extra. ^. 6d. 
 Contents : — Poems for Italy; Dramatic Lyrics ; Miscellaneous. 
 
 " Uncom^non lyrical to^ii<er and deep foetic feeling.'" — Literary 
 Churchman, 
 
 Barnes (Rev. W.).— POEMS OF RURAL LIFE IN COM- 
 MON ENGLISH. By the Rev. \Y. Barnes, Author of 
 " Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect." Fcap. 8vo. ds. 
 " In a high degree pleasant and novel. The hook is by no means one 
 zi'hich the loz-ers of descriptive poetry can afford to lose.'''' — Athen^UM. 
 
 Bell. — ROMANCES AND MINOR POEMS. Ey Henry 
 Glassford Bell. Fcap. 8vo. ds. 
 " Full of life and genizis.'''' — Court Circular. 
 
 Besant. — STUDIES IN EARLY FRENCH POETRY. By 
 \Yalter Besant, M.A. Crown. 8vo. 8j-. dd. 
 
 A sort of impression rests on most minds that French literatni e begins 
 7oith the '■^ siecle de Louis Quatorze ;'''' any previous literature being for 
 the most part uftknewn or ignored. Few know anything of the enormous 
 literary activity that began in the thirteenth century, was carried on by 
 Rulebeuf Marie de France, Gaston de Foix, Thibault de Champagne, 
 and Lorris ; was fostered by Charles of Orleans, by Margaret of Valois, 
 by Francis the First ; that gave a crowd of versifiers to France, enriched, 
 strengthejied, developed, and fixed the French language, and prepared the 
 way for Corneille and for Racine. The present work aims to afford 
 information and direction touching the caj'ly efforts of France in poetical 
 litei'ature. 
 
 " /« one moderately sized volume he has contrived to introduce us to the 
 very best, if not to all of the early French poets.'" — Athen^UM. 
 
 Bradshaw.— AN ATTEMPT TO ASCERTAIN THE STATE 
 OF CHAUCER'S WORKS, AS THEY WERE LEFT AT 
 HIS DEATH. With some Notes of their Subsequent History. 
 By Henry Bradshaw, of King's College, and the Universiry 
 Library, Cambridge. /« Hie Press.
 
 24 GENERAL CATALOGUE. 
 
 Brimley.— ESSAYS BY THE LATE GEORGE BRIMLEY, 
 M.A. Edited by the Rev. AY. G. CLARK, M.A. With Portrait. 
 
 Cheaper Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 3.C. 6^. 
 
 Essays on literaiy topics, such as Tennyson s '"'^ Poems,''* Carlylis 
 ''^ Life of Stirling,^'' '■'■Bleak House,'''' vSr-V., reprinted from Eraser, the 
 Spectator, and like periodicals. 
 
 Broome. — the stranger of SERIPHOS. a Dramatic 
 Poem. By Frederick Napier Broome. Fcap. 8vo. ^s. 
 
 Founded on the Greek legeiid of Dajiae and Perseus. 
 
 " Grace and beauty of expression are Mr. B7-oome''s characteristics ; 
 and these qualities are displayed in 7?iany passages." — ATHENAEUM. 
 
 Church (A. J.).— HOR.E TENNYSONIAN.E, Sive Eclogue 
 e Tennysono Latine redditfe. Cura A. J. Church, A.M. 
 Extra fcap. 8vo. 6s. 
 
 Latin vers'ions of Selections f'om Tennysoii. Among the authors are 
 the Editor, the late Professor Conington, Professor Seeley, Dr. Hessey, 
 
 Mr. Kehhel, and other gejitlcm en. 
 
 Clough (Arthur Hugh).— the POEMS AND PROSE 
 REMAINS OF ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. AYith a 
 Selection from his Letters and a Memoir. Edited by his AYife. 
 With Portrait. Two vols, crown Svo. 2\s. Or Poems sepa- 
 rately, as below. 
 The late Professor Clough is well known as a g7'aceful, tender poet, 
 and as the scholarly translator of Plutaj'ch, The letters possess high 
 interest, not biographical only, but literary — discussing, as they do, the 
 most important questiom of the tiine, always in a genial spii-it. The 
 ^' Reviains'' include papers on " Petre/icht^ient at Oxford;'^ on Professor 
 F. IV. Nnuman^s book " The Soul 'f on Wordsworth ; on the Fo7-mation 
 of Classical English ; on so7ne Moder7i Poe7?is {Matthew Arnold and the 
 late Alexander S7nith), &^c. <2t'c. 
 
 THE POEMS OF ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH, sometime Fellow 
 of Oriel College, Oxford. With a Memoir by F. T. Palgrate. 
 Second Edition. Fcap. Svo. 6s.
 
 POETRY &^ BELLES LETTRES. 25 
 
 " Froin the higher viiud of cultivated, all-questioning, but still conser- 
 vative England, in this oitr puzzled generation, we do not kno7v of any 
 uttera7ice in literature so characteristic as the foetus of Arthur Hugh 
 Clough." — Fraser's Magazine. 
 
 Dante.— DANTE'S COMEDY, THE HELL. Translated by 
 W. M. RossETTi. P'cap. 8vo. cloth, ^s. 
 
 " The aim of this translation of Dante may be summed up in one word 
 — Literality. . . . To follorv Dante sentence for sentence, line for line, 
 word for word — neither more nor less — has been my strenuous endeavour. ^^ 
 — Author's Preface. 
 
 De Vere.— THE INFANT BRIDAL, and other Loems. By 
 Aubrey De Vere. Fcap. 8vo. "js. 6d. 
 ^^ Mr. De Vere has taken his place among the poets of the day. Pure 
 and tender feeling, and that polished restraint of style which is called 
 classical, are the charms of the vohinie.^'' — Spectator. 
 
 Doyle (Sir F. H.). — v;orks by Sir Francis Hastings Doyle, 
 Professor of Poetry in the University of Oxford : — 
 
 THE RETURN OF THE GUARDS, AND OTHER POEMS. 
 Fcap. 8vo. 7J-. 
 " Good 7uine needs no bush, nor good verse a preface ; ami Sir P'rancis 
 Doyle'' s verses run bright and clear, and smack oj a classic vintage. . . . 
 His chief characteristic, as it is his greatest charm, is the sifuple manliness 
 which gives force to all he zurites. It is a characteristic in these days rare 
 enough. ' ' — ExAM i n e R. 
 
 LECTURES ON POETRY, delivered before the University of 
 Oxford in 1868. Crown 8vo. y. 6d. 
 
 Three Lectures :— (i) Inaugural ; (2) Provincial Poetry; (3) Dr 
 Newmati's "" Dreatn of GerontiusT 
 
 ^^ Full of thoughtful discrimination and fine insight: the lecture on 
 '■Provincial Poetry'' seems to us singularly true, eloquent, atui instructive.'' 
 — Spectator. 
 
 Evans. — BROTHER FABIAN'S MANUSCRIPT, AND 
 OTHER POEMS. By Sebastian Evans. Fcap. Svo. cloth. 
 6s.
 
 GENERAL CATALOGUE. 
 
 Kingsley (Canon). — See also "Historic Section," "Works 
 OF Fiction," and "Philosophy;" also "Juvenile Books," 
 a;?^" Theology." 
 
 THE SAINTS' TRAGEDY : or, The True Story of Elizabeth of 
 Hungary. By the Rev. Charles Kingsley. \Yith a Preface by 
 the Rev. F. D. Maurice. Third Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 5j-. 
 
 ANDROMEDA, AND OTHER POEMS. Third Edition. Fcap. 
 8vo. 5^. 
 
 PHAETHON ; or, Eoose Thoughts for Loose Thinkers. Third 
 Edition. Crown Svo. 2.s. 
 
 Kingsley (Henry).— ^;v '•' Works of Fiction." 
 
 Lowell (Professor).— AMONG MY BOOKS. Six Essays. 
 By James Russell Lowell, M.A., Professor of Belles Lettres 
 in Harvard College. Crown Svo. 7^. bd. 
 Six Essays : D7yden ; Witchcraft; Shakespeare Once More ; Nr.c 
 Efigland Tzuo Centuries ago; Lessing ; Rousseau and the Senti- 
 mentalists. 
 
 UNDER THE WILLOWS, AND OTHER POEMS. By James 
 Russell Lowell. Fcap. Svo, 6j-. 
 " Under the Willows is one oj the most admirable bits of idyllic work, 
 sho7-t as it is, or perhaps because it is short, that have been done in our gene- 
 ration.^^ — Saturday Review. 
 
 Masson (Professor). — ESSAYS, BIOGRAPHICAL AND 
 
 CRITICAL. Chiefly on the British Poets. By David Masson, 
 
 LL.D., Professor of Rhetoric in the University of Edinburgh. 
 
 Svo. lis. 6d. 
 
 '^Distinguished by a remarkable power of analysis, a clear statement 
 
 of the actual facts on which speculation is based, and an app7-opriatc 
 
 beauty of Language. These essays shoidd be popular with seriotis mcJi. " — 
 
 Athen.^um. 
 
 BRITISH NOVELISTS AND THEIR STYLES. Being a Critical 
 Sketch of the History of British Prose Fiction. Crown Svo. ^s.dd. 
 
 " Valuable for its lucid analysis of funda7ne7ital principles, its breadth 
 of view, and sustained ani/nation of style.'" — Spectator.
 
 POETRY ^ BELLES LE TERES, 29 
 
 Masson (Professor) {continued)— 
 
 MRS. JERNINGHA^M'S JOURNAL. Second Edition. Extra fcap. 
 8vo. 3J-. 6d. A Poem of the boudoir or domestic class, purporting^ 
 to be the journal of a newly-married lady. 
 
 *' One quality in the piece, sufficient 0/ itself to claim a mo7nents atten- 
 tion, is that it is tinique — original, indeed, is not too strong a ivord — /// 
 the manner of its conception and execution.'" — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 Mistral (F.).—MIRELLE: a Pastoral Epic of Provence. Trans- 
 lated by H. Crichton. Extra fcap. Svo. 6j-. 
 
 " This is a capital translation of the elegant and richly -coloured pastoral 
 epic poem of M. Mistral zvhich, in 1859, he dedicated in enthusiastic 
 
 terms to Lamartine. // luould be hard to overpraise the 
 
 sweetness and pleasijig freshness of this charming epic^ — Athen.*;um. 
 
 Myers (Ernest). — THE PURITANS. Ly Ernest Myers. 
 Extra fcap. Svo. cloth. 2.s. 6d. 
 
 " It is not too much to call it a really grand poem, stately and dignified, 
 and showing not only a high poetic mind, but also great poiver over poetic 
 expression.'" — Literary Churchman. ,^ 
 
 Myers (F. W. H.),— Poems. By F. W. IL Myers. Extra 
 fcap. Svo. 4.r. U. Containing "ST. PAUL," "St. JOHN," and 
 other Poems. 
 
 Nettleship. — ESSAYS ON ROBERT BROWNING'S 
 POETRY. By John T. Nettleship. Extra fcap. Svo. 6j-. dd. 
 
 Noel. — BEATRICE, AND OTHER I'OEMS. By the Hon. 
 RoDEX Noel. Fcap. Svo. (ys. 
 
 *' Beatrice is in many respects a noble poem ; it displays a splendour 
 of landscape painting, a strojig definite precision of highly-coloured descrip- 
 tion, 7vhich has not often been surpassed.'"'— V.\u. M.M.L Gazette.
 
 28 GENERAL CATALOGUE. 
 
 Kingsley (Canon). — See also "Historic Section," "Works 
 OF Fiction," and "Philosophy;" also "Juvenile Books," 
 ^;z^" Theology." 
 
 THE SAINTS' TRAGEDY : or, The True Stoiy of Elizabeth of 
 Hungary. By the Rev. Charles Kingsley. With a Preface by 
 the Rev. F. D. Maurice. Third Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 5j-. 
 
 ANDROMEDA, AND OTHER POEMS. Third Edition. Fcap. 
 8vo. 5J. 
 
 PHAETHON; or. Loose Thoughts for Loose Thinkers. Third 
 Edition. Crown 8vo. is. 
 
 Kingsley (Henry).— ^;v "Works of Fiction." 
 
 Lowell (Professor).— AMONG MY BOOKS. Six Essays. 
 
 By James Russell Lowell, M.A., Professor of Belles Lettres 
 
 in Harvard College. Crown 8vo. yj. dd. 
 Six Essays : Dryden ; Witchcraft; Shakespeare Once More ; Ne7v 
 England Two Centuries ago; Lessing ; Roussean and the Senti- 
 mejttalists. 
 
 UNDER THE WILLOWS, AND OTHER POEMS. By James 
 Russell Lowell. Fcap. 8vo. ds. 
 " Under the Willows is one 0/ the ?nost admirable hits of idyllic work, 
 sho7-t as it is, or perhaps because it is short, that have been done in our gene- 
 ration." — Saturday Review. 
 
 Masson (Professor). — ESSAYS, BIOGRAPHICAL AND 
 
 critical. Chiefly on the British Poets. By David Masson, 
 
 LL.D., Professor of Rhetoric in the University of Edinburgh. 
 
 8vo. . I2s. 6d. 
 
 ''^Distinguished by a remarkable pozuer of analysis, a clear statement 
 
 of the actual facts on zvhich speculation is based, and an appi-opriatc 
 
 beauty of Language. These essays should be popular with serious meji. " — 
 
 Athen^um. 
 
 BRITISH NOVELISTS AND THEIR STYLES. Being a Critical 
 Sketch of the History of British Prose Fiction, Crown 8vo. Is. 6d. 
 
 " Valuable for its lucid analysis of fundamental principles, its b7-eadth 
 of view, and sustained animation of style.^' — Spectator.
 
 POETRY &- BELLES LETTRES. 
 
 Mas son (Professor) [continmd)— 
 
 -MRS. JERXINGHAM'S JOURNAL. Second Edition. Extra fcap. 
 8vo. 3J-. 6d, A Poem of the boudoir or domestic class, purporting 
 to be the journal of a newly -married lady. 
 
 " One quality in the piece, sufficient of itself to claim a mornenCs atten- 
 tion, is that it is unique — original, indeed, is not too strong a zaord — /;/ 
 the manner of its conception and executionf^ — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 Mistral (F.).—MIRELLE: a Pastoral Epic of Provence. Trans- 
 lated by H. Criciiton. Extra fcap. 8vo. ds. 
 
 " This is a capital translation of the elegajit and richly -coloured pastoral 
 epic poem of M. JMistral zvhich, in 1 859, he dedicated in enthusiastic 
 
 terms to Lamartine. It would be hard to overpraise the 
 
 sweetness and pleasing freshfiess of this charming epicy — Athen.i:um. 
 
 Myers (Ernest). — the PURITANS. Ly Ernest Myers. 
 Extra fcap. 8vo. cloth. 2.s. 6d. 
 
 ' ' It is not too much to call it a really grand poem, stately and dignified, 
 and shoTdoing not only a high poetic i?iind, but also great poiver over poetic 
 expression.'" — Literary Churchman, .^ 
 
 Myers (F. W. H.), — Poems. By F. W. I^. Myers. Extra 
 fcap. Svo. 4J. (id. CoDtainint^r '^ST. PAUL,"' "St. JOHN," and 
 other Poems. 
 
 Nettleship. — essays on Robert browning's 
 
 POETRY. By John T. Nettleship. Extra fcap. Svo. 6j. dd. 
 
 Noel. — BEATRICE, AND OTHER POEMS. 15y the Hon. 
 Roden Noel. Fcap. Svo. ds. 
 
 "Beatrice is in via ny respects a noble poem; it displays a splendour 
 of landscape painting, a strojig definite precision of highly-coloured descrip- 
 tion, which has not often been surpassed.'' — Pall Mall Gazette.
 
 30 GENERAL CATALOGUE. 
 
 Norton.— THE lady of la GARAYE. By the Hon. Mrs. 
 Norton. With Vignette and Frontispiece. Sixth Edition. 
 Fcap. 8vo. 4J-. dd. 
 
 " There is no lack of vigour, no faltering of p07i'er, plenty of passio7t, 
 much bj-ight description, much musical ve7-se. . . . Full of thoughts well- 
 expressed, and may be classed atnong her best works.'''' — Times. 
 
 Orwell.— -THE BISHOP'S ^VALK AND THE BISHOP'S 
 TIMES. Poems on the days of Archbishop Leighton and the 
 Scottish Covenant. By Orwell. Fcap. 8vo. 5^. 
 
 ' ' Pure taste and faultless precisiojt of language, the fruits of deep thought, 
 insight into human nature, and lively sympathy.^'' — NONCONFORMIST. 
 
 Palgrave (Francis T.). — ESSAYS ON ART. By Francis 
 Turner Palgrave, M.A., late Fellow of Exeter College, 
 Oxford. Extra fcap. 8vo. 6^. 
 Mulready — Dyce — Holman Hunt — Herbert — Poetry, Pj-ose, and Sen- 
 sationalism in Aj't — Sculpture in England — The Albert Cross, &^c. 
 
 SHAKESPEARE'S SONNETS AND SONGS. Edited by F. T. 
 Palgrave. Gem Edition. With Vignette Title by Je ens. y.6d. 
 
 ^' For mimite elegance no zvlume could possibly excel the ^ Gem 
 Edition.'' " — SCOTSMAN. 
 
 Patmore. — Works by Coventry Patmore : — 
 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 Book I. 77ie Betrothal ; Book II. The Espousals ; Book III. 
 Faithful for Ever. With Tajnertoji Church Tower. Two vols. Fcap. 
 
 ?)Z'0. 1 2s. 
 
 *^* A Nrcu and Cheap Edition in one vol. iSmo., beaut fully printed 
 on toned paper, price 2s. 6d. 
 
 THE VICTORIES OF LOVE. Fcap. Svo. ^. 6d 
 
 The intj-insic merit of his poem will secure it a permanent place in 
 literature. . . . Mr. Patmore has fully earned a place in the catalogue 
 of poets by the finished idealization of domestic life.'''' — Saturday 
 Review.
 
 POETRY ^--BELLES LETTRES. 31 
 
 Pember (E. H.).— tpie tRxVGEDY of lesbos. a 
 
 Dramatic Poem. By E. PI Pember. Fcap. 8vo. 4$-. 6d. 
 Foimded upon the story of Sappho. 
 
 Rossetti. — Works by Christina Rossetti :— 
 
 GOBLIN MARKET, AND OTHER POEMS. With two Designs 
 by D. G. Rossetti. Second Edition. Fcap, 8vo. 5j-. 
 
 ^^She handles her little marvel with that rare poetic discrifninatioti which 
 neither exhausts it of its simple zuonders by pushing symbolism too far, nor 
 keeps those ivojiders in the 7?ierely fabulous and capricious stage. In fact 
 she has produced a true children s poetn^ which is far more delightful to 
 the mature than to children^ though it would be delightficl to ally— 
 Spectator. 
 
 THE PRINCE'S PROGRESS, AND OTHER POEMS. With 
 two Designs by D. G. Rossetti. Fcap. 8vo. ds. 
 
 " Miss Rossetti^ poems are of the kind which recalls Shelley'' s dtfiiiitiou 
 of Poetry as the record of the best and happiest moments of the best and 
 happiest minds. . . . They are like the piping of a bird on the spray in 
 the sunshine, or the quaint singing with which a child amuses itself when 
 it forgets that anybody is listening.'''' — SATURDAY REVIEW. 
 
 Rossetti (W. M.).— DANTE'S PIELL. 6'.'^ " Dante." 
 
 FINE ART, chiefly Contemporary. By William- M. Rossetti. 
 Crown Svo. \os. 6d. 
 
 This volume consists of Criticism on Contemporary Art, reprinted from 
 Eraser, The Saturday Review, The Pall Mall Gazette, and other pub- 
 lications. 
 
 Roby.— STORY OF A HOUSEHOLD, AND OTHER POEMS. 
 By Mary K. Roby. Fcap. Svo. 5^-. 
 
 Shairp (Principal).— KILMAHOE, a Highland Pastoral, with 
 other Poems. By John Campbell Shairp. Fcap. Svo. 5^-. 
 
 " Kilmahoe is a Highland Pastoral, redolent of the war?n soft air of 
 the Western Lochs and Moors, sketched cut n ith remarkable grace and pic- 
 turtsqziencss.'''' — SATURDAY REVIEW.
 
 GENERAL CATALOGUE. 
 
 Smith. — \Yorks by Alexander Smith : — 
 
 A LIFE DRAMA, AND OTHER POEMS. Fcap. 8vo. 2.s. 6d. 
 
 CITY POEMS. Fcap. 8vo. 5^. 
 
 EDWIN OF DEIRA. Second Edition. Fcap. 8\o. 5^. 
 
 "^ poem lohich is marked by the stj-ength, sustained sweetness, and 
 compact texture of real Ufey — North British Review. 
 
 Smith. — POEMS. By Catherine Barnard Smiih. Fcap. 
 Svo. 5J-. 
 
 " Wealthy in feeling, jneaning, finish, and gi-ace ; not zoithout passion^ 
 -tvhich is suppressed, but the keener for that." — Athen/EUM. 
 
 Smith (Rev. Walter). — hymns OF CHRIST AND THE 
 CHRISTIAN LIFE. By the Rev. \Yalter C. Smith, M.A. 
 Fcap. Svo. Gs. 
 
 " lyiese are among the siveetest sacred poems loe have read for a long 
 time. With no profuse imageiy, expressing a range of feeling and 
 expression by no means uncommon, they are true and elevated, and their 
 pathos is profound and simple'' — Nonconformist. 
 
 Stratford de Redcliffe (Viscount).— shadows OF 
 THE PAST, in Verse. By Viscount Stratford de Red- 
 CLIFFE. Crown Svo. \os. 6d. 
 
 " The vigorous words of one ivho has acted vigorously. They co}}:bine 
 thefei-zmir of politician and poet." — Guardian. 
 
 Trench. — Works by R. Chenevix Trench, D.D., Archbishop 
 ot Dublin. See also Sections ' ' Philosophy, " ' ' Theology," &c. 
 
 POEMS. Collected and arranged anew. Fcap. Svo. *js. 6d. 
 
 ELEGIAC POEMS. Third Edition. Fcap. Svo. 2s. 6d. 
 
 CALDERON'S LIFE'S A DREAM : The Great Theatre of the 
 World. With an Essay on his Life and Genius. Fcap. Svo. 
 AJ. 6d.
 
 POETRY &- BELLES LETTRES. 33 
 
 TrencH (Archbishop) {continued)— 
 
 HOUSEHOLD BOOK OF ENGLISH POETRY. Selected and 
 arranged, with Notes, by R. C. Trench^ D.D., Archbishop of 
 Dublin. Extra fcap. 8vo. 5^. 6^. 
 
 This volume is called a *' Household Book,''^ by this name implying that 
 it is a book for all — that there is nothing in it to prez'cnt it from being 
 confidently placed in the hands of every member of the household. Speci- 
 mens of all classes of poetry are given, ijicluding selections fro?n. livino- 
 ■ authors. The Editor has aimed to produce a book * ' which the efnigrant, 
 finding room for little fiot absolutely necessary, might yet find 1 90m for 
 in his trunky and the traveller in his knapsack, and that 07i some narrow 
 shelves where there are few books this might be otte.'' 
 
 " The Archbishop has confe^-red in this delightful vohime an important 
 gift 071 the whole Ejiglish-speaking population of the world.' ^ — Pall 
 Mall Gazette. 
 
 SACRED LATIN POETRY, Chiefly Lyrical. Selected and arranged 
 for Use. Second Edition, Corrected and Improved. Fcap. 8vo. 
 
 * ' The aim of tJie present volume is to ofier to manbers of our English 
 Church a collection of the best sacred Latin poetry, such as they shall be 
 able etitirely and hear-tily to acceptjind approve — a collection, that is, in which 
 they shall not be evermore liable to be offended, and to have the current oj 
 their sympathies checked, by coming upoji that which, however beautiful as 
 poetry, out of higher respects they must reject and condemn — in which, too, 
 they shall not fear tJiat snares are beijig laid for them, to entangle them 
 unazvares in admiration for ought which is inconsistent with tJieir faith 
 and fealty to their oivn spiritual mother.^' — PREFACE. 
 
 Turner. — SONNETS. By the Rev. Charles Tennyson 
 Turner. Dedicated to his brother, the Poet Laureate. Fcap. 
 8vo. 4^. ^d. 
 
 " The Sonnets are dedicated to Mr. Tennyson by his brother, and have, 
 independently of their merits, an interest of association. They both ioz>e to 
 write in simple expressive Saxon; both love to touch their iviageiy in 
 epithets rather than in formal similes ; boih have a delicate perception 
 of rhythmical movement, and thus Mr. Turner has occasional lines which, 
 for phj-ase and music, might be ascribed to his brother. . . He kno7vs the 
 
 C
 
 34 GENERAL CATALOGUE. 
 
 haunts of the wild rose, the shady nooks ivhere light quivers through the 
 leaves, the ruralities, in short, of t/ie land of iinagitiationy — Athenaeum, 
 
 SMALL TABLEAUX. Fcap. 8vo. 4^. 6./. 
 
 " These brief poems have not only a peculiar kind of interest for the 
 student of English poetry, but are intrinsically delightful, and will reward 
 a careful and frequent perusal. Full of naivete, piety, love, and knowledge 
 of natural objects, and each expressing a single and gena'ally a simple 
 subject by meajts of 7nmute and original pictoj-ial touches, these sonnets 
 have a place of their ozvn." — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 Vittoria Colonna. — LIFE AND POEMS. By Mrs. Hensy 
 RoscoE. Crown 8vo. 9^-. 
 
 The life of Vittoria Colo?ina, the celebrated Marchesa di Pescara, has 
 received but cursory notice from any English writer, though in every 
 history of Italy her name is me?itioned with great honour among t/ie poets 
 of the sixteenth century. "In three hundred and fifty years," says her 
 biographer, Visconti, ^^ there has been 710 other Italian lady who can be 
 compared to he?'.^' 
 
 '■'■It is written with good taste, with quick and intelligent sympathy, 
 occasionally with a real freshiiess and charm of style." — Pall Mall 
 Gazette. 
 
 Webster. — Works by Augusta Webster :— 
 
 "If Mrs. Webster 07ily re7nains t7'ue to herself, she will assuredly 
 take a higher rank as a poet than any woman has yet done.''— 
 
 Westminster Review. 
 
 DRAMATIC STUDIES. Extra fcap. 8vo. 5^. 
 
 "A volume as strongly 7narked by perfect taste as by poetic power.'" — 
 Nonconformist. 
 
 PROMETHEUS BOUND OF yESCHYLUS. Literally translated 
 into English Verse. Extra fcap. 8vo. y. 6d. 
 
 " Closettess and simplicity co7nbined with literary skill." — Athen^UM. 
 
 "Mrs. Webster's ' Drajuatic Studies' a7id ' T}-a7islatio7i of Prome- 
 theus' have won for her an honourable place a7no7ig our fe7nale poets. 
 She writes with rc77iarkable vigour a7id drainatic realization, a7id bids fair 
 to be the most successfid clai7nant of Mrs. Broioning's wiz/z//^."— BRITISH 
 Quarterly Review. 
 
 MEDEA OF EURIPIDES. Literally translated into English Verse. 
 Extra fcap. 8vo. 3^". 6d.
 
 POETRY &-> BELLES LETT RES. 35 
 
 " Mrs. Webster s translation surpasses our zitmost expectations. It is a 
 photograph of the original -without any of that harshness which so often 
 acco7npanies a photograph" — Westminster Review. 
 
 A WOMAN SOLD, AND OTHER POEMS. Crown 8vo. ^s. dd. 
 '^ Mrs. Webster has shawn us that she is able to draw admirably froui 
 the life ; that she can observe with subtlety, and render her observations 
 with delicacy ; that she can impersonate complex conceptions, and venture 
 into which feiv living writers canfollozu her." — Guardian. 
 
 PORTRAITS. Fcap. 8vo. 3^. 6d. 
 
 " There is not one of the * Portraits^ on which we would not willinglv 
 dwell." — Spectator. 
 
 Woodward (B. B., F.S.A.). — SPECIMENS OF THE 
 
 DRAWINGS OF TEN MASTERS, from the Royal Collection 
 at Windsor Castle. With Descriptive Text by the late B. B. Wood- 
 ward, B.A., F. S.A., Librarian to the Queen, and Keeper of 
 Pi-ints and Drawings. Illustrated by Twenty Autotypes by 
 Edwards and Kidd. In 4to. handsomely bound, price 2$s. 
 This volume contains facsimiles of the works of Michael Angela, Pcrugino, 
 Raphael, Julio Romano, Leonardo da Vinci, Giorgione, Paul Veronese, 
 Poussin, Albert Diirer, Holbeiii, executed by the Autotype (Carbon) process, 
 7vhich may be accepted as, so far, perfect representations of the originals. In 
 most cases some reduction in size was necessary, and then the dimensions 
 of the drawing itself have been given. Brief biographical memoranda of 
 the life of each master are inserted, solely to prevent tJie need of reference 
 to other works. 
 
 Woolner. — MY BEAUTIFUL LADY. By Thomas Woolner. 
 
 With a Vignette by Arthur Hughes. Third Edition. Fcap. 
 
 8vo. 5^. 
 " It is clearly the product of no idle hour, but a highly-conceived and 
 faithfully-executed task, self-imposed, and prompted by that inwai-d yearn- 
 ing to utter great thoughts, and a wealth of passionate feeling xvhich is 
 poetic geniiis. No man can read this poe9?t without being struck by the 
 fitness and finish of the workmanship, so to speak, as well as by the chas- 
 tened and unpretending loftiness of thought 7vhich pervades the whole.'' — 
 Globe. 
 WORDS FROM THE POETS. Selected by the Editor of " Rays of 
 
 Sunlight." With a Vignette and Frontispiece. iRmo. I.xtra 
 
 cloth gilt. 2s. 6d. Cheaper Edition, iSnio. limp., \s.
 
 GLOBE EDITIONS. 
 
 Under the title GLOBE EDITIONS, the Publishers are 
 issuing a uniform Series of Standard EngUsh Authors, 
 carefully edited, clearly and elegantly printed on toned 
 paper, strongly bound, and at a small cost. The names of 
 the Editors whom they have been fortunate enough to 
 secure constitute an indisputable guarantee as to the 
 character of the Series. The greatest care has been taken 
 to ensure accuracy of text ; adequate notes, elucidating 
 historical, literary, and philological points, have been sup- 
 plied ; and, to the older Authors, glossaries are appended. 
 The series is especially adapted to Students of our national 
 Literature ; while the small price places good editions of 
 certain books, hitherto popularly inaccessible, within the 
 reach of all. 
 
 Shakespeare.— THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM 
 SHAKESPEARE. Edited by W. G. Clark and W. Aldis 
 Wright. Ninety-first Thousand. Globe 8vo. 3^. dd. 
 
 "A marvel of beauty, cheapness, and co7npactness. The whole works — 
 plays, poems, and sonnets — are cojitained in one small volume : yet the 
 page is perfectly clear and readable. . . . For the busy man, above all 
 for the zvorklng Student, the Globe Edition is the best of all existing 
 Shakespeare books. ^'' — Athen^.um. 
 
 Morte D'Arthur. — SIR THOMAS MALORY'S BOOK OF 
 
 KING ARTHUR AND OF HIS NOBLE KNIGHTS OF 
 
 THE ROUND TABLE. The Edition of Caxton, revised for 
 
 Modern Use. With an Introduction by Sir Edward Strachey 
 
 Bart. Globe 8vo. 3^. 6^. New Edion.
 
 GLOBE EDITIONS. 37 
 
 " It is with the most perfect confidence that zue recommend this edition 0/ 
 the old romance to every class of readers^ — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 Scott. — THE POETICAL WORKS OF SIR WALTER 
 SCOTT. With Biographical Essay by F. T. Palgrave. 
 Globe 8vo. y. 6d. New Edition. 
 
 ^' As a popular edition it leaves nothing to be desired. The want 0/ 
 such an 07ie has long been felt, combining real excellence -with cheapness." 
 — Spectator. 
 
 Burns. — THE POETICAL WORKS AND LETTERS OF 
 ROBERT BURNS. Edited, with Life, by Alexander Smith. 
 Globe 8vo. 3^'. 6^. New Edition. 
 
 " The toorhs of the bard have nrjer been offered in such a complete forjn 
 in a single volumeP — Glasgow Daily Herald. 
 " Admirable in all respects.'''' — Spectator. 
 
 Robinson Crusoe.— the adventures of ROBINSON 
 
 CRUSOE. By Defoe. Edited, from the Original Edition, by 
 J. W. Clark, M.A., Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge. 
 With Introduction by Henry Kingsley. Globe 8vo. 3^. 6d. 
 
 " The Globe Edition of Robinson Crusoe is a book to have and to keep. 
 It is printed after the original editions, with the quaint old spelling, and 
 is published in admirable style as regards type, paper, and bitiding. A 
 well-written a7id genial biographical introdicction, by Air. Henry Kingsley, 
 is likewise an attractive feature of this edition.'' — Morning Star. 
 
 Goldsmith.— GOLDSMITH'S MISCELLANEOUS WORKS. 
 With Biographical Essay by Professor Masson. Globe Svo. 
 IS. 6d. 
 
 This edition includes the whole of Goldsmith's Miscellaneous Works— 
 the Vicar of Wakefield, Plays, Poems, dr^c. Of the memoir the SCOTSMAN 
 newspaper writes: '■'■Such an admirable compendium of the facts of 
 Goldsmith! s life, and so careful and minute a delineation of the mixed 
 traits of his peculiar character, as to be a very model of a literary 
 biography.'''^
 
 38 GENERAL CATALOGUE. 
 
 Pope. — THE POETICAL WORKS OF ALEXANDER POPE. 
 Edited, with Memoir and Notes, by Professor Ward. Globe 
 8vo. 3^". (id. 
 
 " The book is handsome and handy. . . . The notes are many, and 
 the matter of them is rich in interest.'' — Athenaeum. 
 
 Spenser. — the complete works of edmund 
 
 SPENSER. Edited from the Original Editions and IManuscripts, 
 
 by R. Morris, Member of the Council of the Philological Society. 
 
 With a Memoir by J. W. Hales, M.A., late Fellow of Christ's 
 
 College, Cambridge, Member of the Council of the Philological 
 
 Society. Globe 8vo. 3^. 6d. 
 
 " A complete and clearly p7'inted edition of the whole 7vorks of Spenser, 
 
 carefully collated with the originals, with copious glossary, worthy — and 
 
 higher praise it needs not — of the b:antiful Globe So-ies. The work is 
 
 edited with all the care so noble a poet deserves.''' — Daily News. 
 
 Dry den.- the POETICAL WORKS OF JOHN DRYDEN. 
 Edited, with a Revised Text, Memoir, and Notes, by W\ D. 
 Christie. Globe 8vo. 3^-. (id. 
 
 * ^ Other Standard Works are in the Press. 
 
 *** The Volumes of this Series may also be had in a variety of morocco 
 and calf bindings at ver>' moderate Prices.
 
 GOLDEN TREASURY SERIES. 
 
 Uniformly printed in i8mo., with Vignette Titles by Sir 
 Noel Paton, T. Woolner, W. Holman Hunt, J. E. 
 MiLLAis, Arthur Hughes, &c. Engraved on Steel by 
 Jeens. Bound in extra cloth, 4^. dd. each volume. Also 
 kept in morocco. 
 
 '''■Messrs. Macviillan have, in their Golden Treasury Series especially, 
 provided editions of standard wo7-ks, volumes oj selected poetry, and 
 original co7npositions, which entitle this series to be called classical. 
 Nothing can be better than the literary execution^ nothing more elegant 
 than the material workmanship.''^ — British Quarterly Review. 
 
 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF THE BEST SONGS AND 
 LYRICAL POEMS IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 
 Selected and arranged, with Notes, by Francis Turner 
 Palgrave. 
 
 *' This delightful little volume, the Golden Treasury, which contains 
 many of the best original lyrical pieces and songs in our language, grouped 
 with care atid skill, so as to illustrate each other like the pictures in a 
 well-arranged gallery.'" — Quarterly Review, 
 
 THE CHILDREN'S GARLAND FROM THE BEST POETS. 
 Selected and arranged by Coventry Patmore. 
 
 " // includes specimens of all the great masters in the art oJ poetry, 
 selected with the inatured judgment of a man concentrated on obtaining 
 ifisight into the feelings and tastes of childhood, aiid desirous to awaken its 
 ^nest impidscs, to cultivate its keenest sensibilities.^'' — Morning Post.
 
 40 GENERAL CATALOGLE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF PRAISE. From the Best English Hymn Wiiters. 
 Selected and arranged by SiR Roundell Palmer. A New and 
 Enlarged Edition. 
 
 *' All previous compilations of this kind must undeniably for the present 
 give place to the Book of Praise. . . . The selection has been made 
 throughout with sound judgment and critical taste. The paifis involved 
 in this compilation must have been^wimejise, embracing^ as it does, every 
 writer of ?iote in this special province of Etiglish literature, and ranging 
 over the most widely divergent tracks of religious thojight." — Saturday 
 Review. 
 
 THE FAIRY BOOK ; the Best Popular Fairy Stories. Selected and 
 rendered anew by the Author of "John Halifax, Gentleman." 
 
 '^ A delightful selectiort, in a delightful external form ; full of the 
 physical splendour and vast opulence of proper fairy tales.''^ — SPECTATOR. 
 
 THE BAELAD BOOK. A Selection of the Choicest British Ballads. 
 Edited by William Allingham. 
 
 ^^ His taste as a j?idge of old poetry will be found, by all acquainted with 
 the various readings of old English ballads, ti'ue enough to justify his 
 undertaking so critical a task.'''' — Saturday Review. 
 
 THE JEST BOOK. The Choicest Anecdotes and Sayings. Selected 
 and arranged by ]\Iark Lemon. 
 
 ** The fullest and best jest book that has yet appeared.''' — Saturday 
 Review. 
 
 BACON'S ESSAYS AND COLOURS OF GOOD AND EVIL. 
 With Notes and Glossarial Index. By W. Aldis Wright, M. A. 
 
 " The beautiful little edition of Bacon's Essays, nozv before 7cs, does 
 credit to the taste arid scholarship of Mr. Aldis Wright. . . . It puts the 
 reader in possession of all the essential literary facts and chronology 
 necessary for reading the Essays in connexion with Bacon's life and 
 times.'" — Spectator. 
 
 " By far the most complete as well as the most elegant edition we 
 possess'' — Westminster Review.
 
 GOLDEN TREASURY SERIES. 41 
 
 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS from this World to that which is to 
 come. By John Bunyan. 
 " .-/ beautiful and scholarly reprint.'''' — Spectator. 
 
 TUl:: SUXDAY LOOK OF POETRY FOR THE YOUNG. 
 Selected and arranged by C. F. Alexander. 
 ' ' A zoell-selected volume of Sacrbd Poetry. " — S pect AfOR. 
 
 A BOOK OF GOLDEN DEEDS of all Times and all Countries. 
 
 Gathered and narrated anew. By the Author of " The Heir of 
 
 Redclyffe." 
 "... Totheyoung, for whom it is especially intended, as d most interesting 
 collection of thrilling tales well told ; and to their elders, as a useful hand- 
 hook of reference, and a pleasant one to take up when their wish is to while 
 azuay a weaty half hour. We have seen no irettier gift-book for a long 
 time." — Athen^um. 
 
 THE POETICAL WORKS OF ROBERT BURNS. Edited, with 
 Biographical Memoir, Notes, and Glossary, by Alexander 
 Smith. Two Vols, 
 '■'■Beyond all question this is the most beatitiful edition of Burns 
 yet out.'" — Edinburgh Daily Review. 
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF ROBINSON CRUSOE. Edited from 
 the Original Edition by J. W. Clark, M.A., Fellow of Trinity 
 College, Cambridge. 
 " Mutilated and mjd'ified editions of this English classic are so much 
 
 the rule, that a cheap and pretty copy of it, rigidly exact to the original, 
 
 will be a prize to many book-buyers'' — Examiner. 
 
 THE REPUBLIC OF PLATO. Translated into English, with 
 Notes by J. LI. Davies; M.A. and D. J. Vaugh.\n, M.A. 
 ^' A dainty and cheap little edition.''' — Examiner. 
 
 THE SONG BOOK. Words and Tunes from tlie best Poets and 
 Musicians. Selected and arranged by John Hullah, Professor 
 of Vocal Music in King's College, London. 
 
 "A choice collection of the sterlijig songs of England, Scotland, and 
 Ireland, with the music of each prefixed to the words. How much true 
 wholesome pleasure, such a book can d'lffuse, atid will diffuse, we trust, 
 through ?nany thousand fafuilies.'" — Examiner. 
 
 D
 
 42 GENERAL CATALOGUE. 
 
 LA LYRE FRANCAISE. Selected and arranged, with Notes, by 
 GusTAVE Masson, French Master in Harrow School. 
 A selection of the best French songs and lyrical pieces. 
 
 TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS. By an Old Boy. 
 
 " A perfect gem of a book. 77ie best and most healthy book about boys 
 for boys that ever was written.''' — Illustrated Times. 
 
 A BOOK OF WORTHIES. Gathered from the Old Histories and 
 written anew by the Author of "The Heir of Redclyffe."' 
 With Vignette. 
 ^^ An admirable edition to an admirable series!' — Westminster 
 Review.
 
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