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I was wakened next morning （Wednesday； October 2nd） by the same dog
… for I knew his bark … making a charge down the bank； and then；
seeing me sit up； retreating again with great alacrity。 The stars
were not yet quite extinguished。 The heaven was of that enchanting
mild grey…blue of the early morn。 A still clear light began to
fall； and the trees on the hillside were outlined sharply against
the sky。 The wind had veered more to the north； and no longer
reached me in the glen； but as I was going on with my preparations；
it drove a white cloud very swiftly over the hill…top； and looking
up； I was surprised to see the cloud dyed with gold。 In these high
regions of the air； the sun was already shining as at noon。 If
only the clouds travelled high enough； we should see the same thing
all night long。 For it is always daylight in the fields of space。
As I began to go up the valley； a draught of wind came down it out
of the seat of the sunrise； although the clouds continued to run
overhead in an almost contrary direction。 A few steps farther； and
I saw a whole hillside gilded with the sun； and still a little
beyond； between two peaks； a centre of dazzling brilliancy appeared
floating in the sky； and I was once more face to face with the big
bonfire that occupies the kernel of our system。
I met but one human being that forenoon； a dark military…looking
wayfarer； who carried a game…bag on a baldric； but he made a remark
that seems worthy of record。 For when I asked him if he were
Protestant or Catholic …
'Oh；' said he； 'I make no shame of my religion。 I am a Catholic。'
He made no shame of it！ The phrase is a piece of natural
statistics； for it is the language of one in a minority。 I thought
with a smile of Bavile and his dragoons； and how you may ride
rough…shod over a religion for a century； and leave it only the
more lively for the friction。 Ireland is still Catholic； the
Cevennes still Protestant。 It is not a basketful of law…papers；
nor the hoofs and pistol…butts of a regiment of horse； that can
change one tittle of a ploughman's thoughts。 Outdoor rustic people
have not many ideas； but such as they have are hardy plants； and
thrive flourishingly in persecution。 One who has grown a long
while in the sweat of laborious noons； and under the stars at
night； a frequenter of hills and forests； an old honest countryman；
has； in the end； a sense of communion with the powers of the
universe； and amicable relations towards his God。 Like my mountain
Plymouth Brother； he knows the Lord。 His religion does not repose
upon a choice of logic； it is the poetry of the man's experience；
the philosophy of the history of his life。 God； like a great
power； like a great shining sun； has appeared to this simple fellow
in the course of years； and become the ground and essence of his
least reflections； and you may change creeds and dogmas by
authority； or proclaim a new religion with the sound of trumpets；
if you will； but here is a man who has his own thoughts； and will
stubbornly adhere to them in good and evil。 He is a Catholic； a
Protestant； or a Plymouth Brother； in the same indefeasible sense
that a man is not a woman； or a woman not a man。 For he could not
vary from his faith； unless he could eradicate all memory of the
past； and； in a strict and not a conventional meaning； change his
mind。
THE HEART OF THE COUNTRY
I WAS now drawing near to Cassagnas； a cluster of black roofs upon
the hillside； in this wild valley； among chestnut gardens； and
looked upon in the clear air by many rocky peaks。 The road along
the Mimente is yet new； nor have the mountaineers recovered their
surprise when the first cart arrived at Cassagnas。 But although it
lay thus apart from the current of men's business； this hamlet had
already made a figure in the history of France。 Hard by； in
caverns of the mountain； was one of the five arsenals of the
Camisards； where they laid up clothes and corn and arms against
necessity； forged bayonets and sabres； and made themselves
gunpowder with willow charcoal and saltpetre boiled in kettles。 To
the same caves； amid this multifarious industry； the sick and
wounded were brought up to heal； and there they were visited by the
two surgeons； Chabrier and Tavan； and secretly nursed by women of
the neighbourhood。
Of the five legions into which the Camisards were divided； it was
the oldest and the most obscure that had its magazines by
Cassagnas。 This was the band of Spirit Seguier； men who had joined
their voices with his in the 68th Psalm as they marched down by
night on the archpriest of the Cevennes。 Seguier； promoted to
heaven； was succeeded by Salomon Couderc； whom Cavalier treats in
his memoirs as chaplain…general to the whole army of the Camisards。
He was a prophet； a great reader of the heart； who admitted people
to the sacrament or refused them； by 'intensively viewing every
man' between the eyes； and had the most of the Scriptures off by
rote。 And this was surely happy； since in a surprise in August
1703； he lost his mule； his portfolios； and his Bible。 It is only
strange that they were not surprised more often and more
effectually； for this legion of Cassagnas was truly patriarchal in
its theory of war； and camped without sentries； leaving that duty
to the angels of the God for whom they fought。 This is a token；
not only of their faith； but of the trackless country where they
harboured。 M。 de Caladon； taking a stroll one fine day； walked
without warning into their midst； as he might have walked into 'a
flock of sheep in a plain；' and found some asleep and some awake
and psalm…singing。 A traitor had need of no recommendation to
insinuate himself among their ranks； beyond 'his faculty of singing
psalms'； and even the prophet Salomon 'took him into a particular
friendship。' Thus； among their intricate hills； the rustic troop
subsisted； and history can attribute few exploits to them but
sacraments and ecstasies。
People of this tough and simple stock will not； as I have just been
saying； prove variable in religion； nor will they get nearer to
apostasy than a mere external conformity like that of Naaman in the
house of Rimmon。 When Louis XVI。； in the words of the edict；
'convinced by the uselessness of a century of persecutions； and
rather from necessity than sympathy；' granted at last a royal grace
of toleration； Cassagnas was still Protestant； and to a man； it is
so to this day。 There is； indeed； one family that is not
Protestant； but neither is it Catholic。 It is that of a Catholic
CURE in revolt； who has taken to his bosom a schoolmistress。 And
his conduct； it is worth noting； is disapproved by the Protestant
villagers。
'It is a bad idea for a man；' said one； 'to go back from his
engagements。'
The villagers whom I saw seemed intelligent after a countrified
fashion； and were all plain and dignified in manner。 As a
Protestant myself； I was well looked upon； and my acquaintance with
history gained me further respect。 For we had something not unlike
a religious controversy at table； a gendarme and a merchant with
whom I dined being both strangers to the place； and Catholics。 The
young men of the house stood round and supported me； and the whole
discussion was tolerantly conducted； and surprised a man brought up
among the infinitesimal and contentious differences of Scotland。
The merchant； indeed； grew a little warm； and was far less pleased
than some others with my historical acquirements。 But the gendarme
was mighty easy over it all。
'It's a bad idea for a man to change；' said he； and the remark was
generally applauded。
That was not the opinion of the priest and soldier at Our Lady of
the Snows。 But this is a different race； and perhaps the same
great…hearte