into laying down their arms, were slain on
Whit–Sunday afternoon, by assailants who rushed out
of vespers for the purpose. An eye–witness, of
some experience, declared that he never before
beheld heads flying about in such multitudes.
Tliis is the glorious victory of which the present
amiable Archbishop of Toulouse proposes to hold
a centenary celebration, to last a week, as a Feast
of deliverance, on and about the seventeenth of
May, one thousand eight hundred and sixty–two,
and respecting which festival, although
prohibited, good Catholics intimate that where
there's a will there's a way.

However we may dispute about the origin of
evil, one thing is certain: that evil begets evil.
One evil thing gives rise to, induces, and is
the cause of, another. As a good tree brings
forth good fruit, so, a bad tree brings forth
bad fruit. The last centenary celebration of
the wicked deed, namely, that in 1762, was
a thunder–cloud whose coming was ushered in
by crimes that make us shudder, and which we
would gladly leave in oblivion had not a Christian
prelate strained after their possible
repetition. The cloud was already charged with
lightning ready to strike the first devoted head
that chance or passion might single out. Months
beforehand, the popular mind was excited by
preparations for that coming seventeenth of
May. The magnificence of the decorations, the
cloth of gold expressly ordered at Lyons, the
costumes, and the altars to be built in the
streets for this monstrous and revolting revival
of horrors, were talked of on all sides.
Protestants were regarded as worse than infidels,
and as more pestiferous than mad dogs.

There dwelt then at Toulouse, a respectable
family—to their sorrow members of the reformed
religion of the name of Calas, doing a good
business as drapers, irreproachable in conduct,
leading a life of modest competency, and
respected by their neighbours.

The family consisted of Jean Calas, the
father, aged sixty–four; Anne Calas, the mother,
aged forty–five (the legal documents called her
la demoisell Calas Mère, because a bourgoise,
even when married, was not allowed to be called
madame); and six children. Of these, four were
sons; Marc Antoine, the eldest; Jean Pierre,
the cadet or second son; Louis, of whom more
anon; and Jean Louis Donat, who scarcely
enters into our story, being then (fortunately for
him) apprenticed in a commercial establishment
at Nîmes. The two daughters happened to be
staying at a friend's country–house.

Another member of the household was Jeanne
Vignier, a servant, who had lived with the family
five–and–twenty years, who professed, and
doubtless felt in her way, a strong attachment to
them, converting it into a privilege to speak
and act pretty nearly as she pleased. Her faith
was opposed to that of her master's. She was
a bigoted Catholic—that is, she was a Catholic
of her day; and she selected as her especial
favourites the eldest and the third sons. Her
zeal and affection carried her so far as to attempt
young Louis's secret conversion, with the object
of ensuring his eternal welfare by bringing him
back to the pale of the true church. Her
endeavours were seconded by friends and
neighbours, by the barber Durand, his wife, and
their son the abbé, and by another abbé named
Benaben.

Both Marc Antoine and Louis Calas were
dissatisfied with their humble circumstances, or
rather with the humble appearance which their
father's faith and social position required them
to be contented with. Their weakness was the
inconsistent folly of Quaker's children, who
should pant to rush into Vanity Fair. Both
aimed at making an appearance above their
sphere of life; a superior education only excited
their ambition. They probably believed their
parents more wealthy than they really were.
They longed to wear bright–coloured clothes—an
unreasonable wish at that time of day—to
tdisinguish them from poor grey–clad tradesmen;
and their importunities at last extorted the
grant of blue coats with metal buttons.

When Louis attained his eighteenth year his
secret vanity and his distaste for regular
business exceeded all moderate bounds. He tried
hard to get his father to concede a more showy
establishment than that intended for him.
Unable to bend his parent's wise resolution, he
resolved to break through it violently. It is no
harsh judgment to suppose that Louis, greedy
and selfish, was perfectly aware of the
consequences of his abjuring the faith of his
ancestors. The law furnished the children of
Hugenots with terrible arms against parental
authority. An ordonnance of the seventeenth of
June, one thousand six hundred and eighty–
one, made the son of a Protestant his own
master at seven years of age, allowed him
to renounce his parents' religion, and to exact
an allowance enabling him to live separate from
the family. Louis therefore drew up a memorial,
addressed to the Intendant of the Province,
in which he demanded the King's orders, not
only for his own proper sequestration, but also
for that of his two sisters and his younger
brother Donat. There is nothing like the zeal
of new made converts.

This petition, which Louis carried about with
him in his pocket, accidentally fell into Marc
Antoine's hands, who, as soon as he was aware
of its contents, bitterly reproached his brother
with the wicked attempt to bring misery into
the family. Louis, in his guilty shame, went
and hid himself in the Durand's house. Only
Jeanne, the servant, knew where he was, and
she supplied him with money out of her savings.
From his retreat, Louis, holding fast to his
project, negotiated with his father. Jean Calas had
no possible means of preventing a conversion
which grieved him deeply. After a time, he was
visited by a councillor of the parliament, M. De
La Mothe, a highly respected and influential
person, who informed him of Louis's
determination, and advised him to make no
opposition.

"Monsieur le Conseiller," replied the father,
coldly, "I approve of my sou's conversion, if it