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I have read strange confidential letters of this Baron Hody. In action and in style there is nothing more cynical and more repulsive than the Jesuit police, when they unveil their secret treasures. These are the contents of the unbuttoned cassock. I simply tell the tale. Nothing more. "Baron Hody. Very well, I will go to him," said Cournet.
Under him its treasures were thrown liberally open to the ecclesiastical antiquaries of his day to Hody, to Stillingfleet, to Collier, to Atterbury, and to Strype, who was just beginning his voluminous collections towards the illustration of the history of the sixteenth century. But no one made so much use of the documents in his charge as Wharton himself.
I have just come from Paris, I wish to eat first and sleep afterwards." The landlord was touched, took the double louis, and gave him bed and supper. Next day, while he was still sleeping, the landlord came into his room, woke him gently, and said to him, "Now, sir, if I were you, I should go and see Baron Hody." "Who and what is Baron Hody?" asked Cournet, half asleep.
Cournet went there, and was shown into the presence of this personage. Baron Hody did him the honor to ask him sharply, "Who are you?" "A refugee," answered Cournet; "I am one of those whom the coup d'état has driven from Paris. "Your profession?" "Ex-naval officer." "Ex-naval officer!" exclaimed Baron Hody in a much gentler tone, "did you know His Royal Highness the Prince de Joinville?"
As to his public functions, Baron Hody was what they call at Brussels "The Administrator of Public Safety;" that is to say, a counterfeit of the Prefect of Police, half Carlier, half Maupas. Thanks to Baron Hody, who has since left the place, and who, moreover, like M. de Montalembert, was a "mere Jesuit," the Belgian police at that moment was a compound of the Russian and Austrian police.
As in fair waters a man may see the hody of the sun, and of the moon, and of the stars, and the very body of heaven; so ho that stands upon the bank of this river, and that washeth his eyes with this water, may see the Son of God, the stars of God, the glory of God, and the habitation that God has prepared for his people. And are not these pleasant sights? Is not this excellent water?
The landlord explained to him who Baron Hody was. When I had occasion to ask the same question as Cournet, I received from three inhabitants of Brussels the three answers as follows: "He is a dog." "He is a polecat." "He is a hyena." There is probably some exaggeration in these three answers. A fourth Belgian whom I need not specify confined himself to saying to me, "He is a beast."
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