He bitterly reproached the Guises “with treating as mere policists, that is, men who sacrifice religion to temporal interests, the Catholics inclined to make concessions to the Reformers, especially the Chancellor de l’Hospital and the sons of the late Constable de Montmorency.”  The Guises, indeed, and their friends did not conceal their distrust of De l’Hospital, any more than he concealed his opposition to their deeds and their designs.  Whilst the peace of Longjumeau was still in force, Charles IX. issued a decree interdicting all Reformers from the chairs of the University and the offices of the judicature; L’Hospital refused to seal it:  “God save us from the chancellor’s mass!” was the remark at court.  L’Hospital, convinced that he would not succeed in preserving France from a fresh civil war, made up his mind to withdraw, and go and live for some time at his estate of Vignay [a little hamlet in the commune of Gironville, near Etampes, Seine-et-Oise].  The queen-mother eagerly took advantage of his withdrawal to demand of him the seals, of which, she said, she might have need daily.  L’Hospital gave them up at once, at the same time retaining his title of chancellor, and letting the queen know “that he would take pains to recover his strength in order to return to his post, if and when it should be the king’s and the queen’s pleasure.”  From his rural home he wrote to his friends, “I am not downhearted because the violence of the wicked has snatched from me the seals of the kingdom.  I have not done as sluggards and cowards do, who hide themselves at the first show of danger, and obey the first impulses of fear.  As long as I was strong enough, I held my own.  Deprived of all support, even that of the king and the queen, who dared no longer defend me, I retired, deploring the unhappy condition of France.  Now I have other cares; I return to my interrupted studies and to my children, the props of my old age and my sweetest delight.  I cultivate my fields.  The estate of Vignay seems to me a little kingdom, if any man may consider himself master of anything here below. . . .  I will tell you more; this retreat, which satisfies my heart, also flatters my vanity; I like to imagine myself in the wake of those famous exiles of Athens or Rome whom their virtues rendered formidable to their fellow-citizens.  Not that I dare compare myself with those great men, but I say to myself that our fortunes are similar.  I live in the midst of a numerous family whom I love; I have books; I read, write, and meditate; I take pleasure in the games of my children; the most frivolous occupations interest me.  In fine, all my time is filled up, and nothing would be wanting to my happiness if it were not for the awful apparition hard by which sometimes comes, bringing trouble and desolation to my heart.”