The Councillor was not only silenced, but sank into his chair in a state of temporary lapse. For the moment, at least, the reality of the picture presented to him had touched his heart.
Nevertheless the Maréchale's Appeal was rejected, and M. Pictet wrote to her: "The wretched storm of anger and prejudice which you witnessed and which your friends deplore so much, has not blown over by any means. I, for one, despair of ever seeing my fellow-citizens properly understand what religious liberty and respect of other people's opinion mean,--therefore the only course left to the Army seems to be the one indicated in St. Matthew x. 23! _You_ have done your duty, you cannot be expected to do more than Paul and Barnabas did (Acts xiii. 51)."
Meantime the enemies of righteousness rejoiced. The theatrical paper of Geneva complimented the authorities upon the expulsion. "Our theatre," it said, "has lost a formidable rival, and the crowd is beginning to find its way back to us."
At that critical time it was not only the civil but the spiritual leaders who were weighed and found wanting. Injustice could scarcely have been pushed so far had not the Churches sanctioned it by their attitude of silence or open hostility. Many religious people took the side of the persecuting government and the godless populace. The bitterest pamphlet against the _Armée du Salut_ was written by Madame la Comtesse de Gasparin, whom the delighted mob hailed as "a Christian if ever there was one." But the most strange and humiliating fact of all was that the Swiss branch of the Evangelical Alliance resolved, after due deliberation, to refrain from uttering a single word in defence of religious liberty. No wonder that a number of its most influential members sorrowfully withdrew from its fellowship.
Banished from Geneva, the Evangelists found refuge for a time in Neuchâtel. Coming on the scene just after the authorities had forbidden evening meetings, the Maréchale gave notice of a morning one to be held the next day. The hall was filled, and the meetings went on every morning and afternoon, all through the week.
At six o'clock on Sunday morning the roaring of a crowd of roughs coming up the street reached the ears of those who had already gathered inside the hall. While the noise grew louder and louder, the Maréchale said to her officers, "Wait here and pray; I will go and meet them." On stepping outside the door, she was at once surrounded by rough fellows in their shirt sleeves, armed with sticks and forks and stones, who began to demand what she wanted in their town, and poured upon her the senseless accusations of the tap-rooms.