While he was on his way to confer with the pope and cardinals, others were canvassing Melancthon and the protestants. De la Fosse left for Wittemberg, bearing the king’s letter, and William du Bellay, an intelligent statesman, who was determined to spare no pains to bring the great scheme to a successful issue, wrote to the German doctor, explaining motives and removing objections. In his eyes the cause in question was the greatest of all: it was the cause of religion and of France. ‘Let us beware,’ wrote the councillor of Francis I. to Melancthon, ‘let us beware of irritating the king, whose favor you will confess is necessary to us. If, after he has written to you with his own hand, after you have almost given your consent, after he has sent you a deputation, in whose company you could make the journey without danger,—if you finally refuse to come to France, I much fear that the monarch will not look upon it with a favorable eye. It is necessary both to France and religion that you comply with the king’s request.[705] Fear not the influence of the wicked, who cannot endure to be deprived of anything in order that the glory of Jesus Christ should be increased.[706] The king is skilful, prudent, yielding, and allows himself to be convinced by sound reasons. If you have an interview with him, if you talk with him, if you set your motives before him, you will inflame him with an admirable zeal for your cause.[707] Do not think you will have to dissemble or give way.... No; the king will praise your courage in such serious matters more than he would praise your weakness. I therefore exhort and conjure you in Christ’s name not to miss the opportunity of doing the noblest of all the works which it is possible to perform among men.’ As we read these important letters, these touching solicitations, and the firm opinions of the councillor of Francis I., we are tempted to inquire what is their date. Is it in reality only five months after the strappadoes? One circumstance explains the startling contrast. France might say: ‘I feel two natures in me.’ Which of them shall prevail? That is the question. Will it be the intelligence, frankness, love of liberty, and presentiment of the moral responsibility of man, which are often found in the French people; or the incredulity, superstition, sensuality, cruelty, and despotism, of which Catherine de Medicis, her husband, and her sons were the types? Shall we see a people, eager for liberty, submitting in religious things to the yoke of a Church which never allows any independence to individual thought? Strange to say, the solution of this important question seemed to depend upon a reformer. Should Melancthon come to France, he would, in the opinion of the Du Bellays and the best intellects of the age, inaugurate with God’s help in that illustrious country the reign of the Gospel and liberty, and put an end to the usurpations of Rome.