should wait for me, being a Protestant, to counsel you to go
to mass, is a thing you should not do, although I will boldly declare
to you that it is the prompt and easy way of destroying all malign
projects. You will thus meet no more enemies, sorrows, nor
difficulties _in this world_. As to the _other world_," he continued,
smiling, "I can not answer for that."
The king continued in great perplexity. He felt that it was degrading
to change his religion upon apparent compulsion, or for the
accomplishment of any selfish purpose. He knew that he must expose
himself to the charge of apostasy and of hypocrisy in affirming a
change of belief, even to accomplish so meritorious a purpose as to
rescue a whole nation from misery. These embarrassments to a
vacillating mind were terrible.
Early one morning, before rising, he sent for Sully. The duke found
the king sitting up in his bed, "scratching his head in great
perplexity." The political considerations in favor of the change urged
by the duke could not satisfy fully the mind of the king. He had still
some conscientious scruples, imbibed from the teachings of a pious and
sainted mother. The illustrious warrior, financier, and diplomatist
now essayed the availability of theological considerations, and urged
the following argument of Jesuitical shrewdness:
"I hold it certain," argued the duke, "that whatever be the exterior
form of the religion which men profess, if they live in the
observation of the Decalogue, believe in the Creed of the apostles,
love God with all their heart, have charity toward their neighbor,
hope in the mercy of God, and to obtain salvation by the death,
merits, and justice of Jesus Christ, they can not fail to be saved."
Henry caught eagerly at this plausible argument. The Catholics say
that no Protestant can be saved, but the Protestants admit that a
Catholic may be, if in heart honest, just, and true. The sophistry of
the plea in behalf of an _insincere_ renunciation of faith is too
palpable to influence any mind but one eager to be convinced. The king
was counseled to obey the Decalogue, which _forbids false witness_,
while at the same time he was to be guilty of an act of fraud and
hypocrisy.
But Henry had another counselor. Philip of Mornay, Lord of Plessis,
had imbibed from his mother's lips a knowledge of the religion of
Jesus Christ. His soul was endowed by nature with the most noble
lineaments, and he was, if man can judge, a devoted
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