numerous countries which he united under his sceptre had its destination
in accordance with the private views of its master. The Netherlands were
to be the field for the display of his arbitrary authority and his cruel
despotism. The emperor had already given proof of his fierce disposition
in the treaty of Madrid; but he now gave further evidence of the same.
On the 29th of January, 1529, he concluded, at Barcelona, an alliance
with the pope which was worthy of both of them. It was therein declared
that ‘many persons having completely deviated from Christian doctrine,
the emperor and his brother would make use of their power against those
who should obstinately persist in their errors.’ All the princes were
invited to join this ‘holy alliance.’[801] On the 5th of August of the
same year the emperor confirmed, by the treaty of Cambray, his
determination to extirpate evangelical doctrine; and the same year a new
placard, dated from Brussels, October 14, was everywhere posted up,
which ordered that all those who dwelt in the country should, before
November 25, deliver into the hands of the prefect of the place all
books and manuscripts conformed to the opinions of Luther. Whosoever
failed to do so, and whosoever should receive heretics into his house,
should be punished both with confiscation and with death.
‘Nevertheless,’ it was added, ‘that we may manifest to all with what
compassion we are moved, those who before the said date shall confess
and abjure their errors shall be reconciled to the Church.’ Relapsed
persons and prisoners were, however, excepted. The relapsed were
condemned to the flames; and with respect to other heretics, the men
were to be beheaded, and the women condemned to the pit, _i.e._, to be
_buried alive_. Half of the goods of accused persons was promised to the
informers.[802] Such was the compassion with which, according to the
assurance which he gave, the heart of Charles the Fifth was moved. Was
the atrocious penalty pronounced against women consequent on the fact
that they usually showed more piety and gave greater provocation by
their zeal to the satellites of Charles? This is possible; and at all
events the fact is greatly to their honor.
The emperor was not the only oppressor of the evangelicals of the
Netherlands. Charles of Egmont, duke of Guelderland, who was at this
time residing in the ancient palace of his town of Arnheim, on the right
bank of the Rhine, indulged without restraint his wrath against the
Reformation. Two men were the objects of his especial detestation. One
of these was Gerhard Goldenhauer of Nimeguen, a correspondent of
Erasmus, who had brought many of the inhabitants of Guelderland to the
knowledge of Christ. The other was Adolph Clarenbach, a learned and
eloquent man, who had courageously proclaimed evangelical truth. Shortly
after the conclusion of the alliance between the emperor and the pope,
the duke determined to do every thing in his power for the purpose of
crushing the enemies of the pope. ‘I will have,’ said he, ‘all those who
are tainted with the Lutheran heresy, young and old, natives and
foreigners, men and women,[803] all who, either within the privacy of
their own houses, or in hostelries, or in conventicles, shall have said
or done any thing which savors of heresy, deprived without mercy and
without respect of persons, of their property and their lives. One third
of their fortune shall be mine, another third shall go to the towns or
other places where the offence has been committed, and the remaining
third shall go to the informer.’ The ducal fanatic had signed with his
own hand an edict embodying these barbarous stipulations. He did not
confine himself to threats. At Arnheim, Nimeguen, and elsewhere, he
caused men, women, and even monks, to be arrested; and after having
examined them, had some of them drowned, others beheaded, and many
banished. With respect to evangelical books, he ordered them all to be
burnt. In the palace where these orders were signed and discussed there
was a young man not very friendly to popery, whose heart these cruel
proceedings filled with sorrow. This was Charles, a son of the duke by a
noble lady, and a much better man than his father, leading a virtuous
life, and dear to all good men. But nothing could stay the violence of
the wretched Egmont. Perpetually restless, gloomy, and fierce, he could
not lay hands on Clarenbach and Goldenhauer; but the former, immovable
in his avowal of the truth, was burnt alive on the 20th of September, of
this same year, 1529, at Cologne. Goldenhauer withdrew to Strasburg, and
was afterwards called to Marburg as professor of theology.[804]
Nothing could check the course of the government of Charles the Fifth.
On the contrary, it hastened on. Six days after the publication of the
last placard, William, a Christian man of Zwoll, was struck. He had been
one of the ministers of Christian of Denmark, and had come into Belgium
with this prince. Ere long, certain theologians of Louvain, irritated by
his profession of evangelical doctrine, had him arrested. They then went
to him and said—‘Here are certain articles on which we require your
opinion. We give you twelve days to reply to us; and if you refuse to do
so,’ they added in a threatening tone, ‘we shall proceed against you as
we think proper.’
[Sidenote: Executions.]
William read the articles, eight in number, and feeling that there was
no need to take twelve days to answer them, he immediately made a
confession of his faith.[805] ‘Reverend doctors,’ he said to the
theologians, ‘I believe, with respect to the pope, that if he be minded
to wield the temporal sword, to refuse obedience to the lawful
magistrate, rather than confine himself to the spiritual sword which is
the word of God,[806] he has no power either to bind or to loose
consciences. With respect to purgatory, every Christian knows perfectly
well that after death he will be blessed. With respect to the invocation
of saints, we have in heaven Christ alone as mediator, and it is to Him
that I cling. With respect to the mass, it is certainly not a sacrifice;
for the blood of Christ shed upon the cross suffices for the salvation
of the faithful. With respect to Luther’s books, I admit that I have
read them, not however out of contempt for His Imperial Majesty, but in
order that by learning and knowing the truth I may reject every
untruth.’
The doctors of Louvain, noted for their hatred of the Gospel, listened
with abhorrence to this candid confession, in which piety so singular
shone forth.[807] For such a confession, they said, the man who makes it
assuredly deserves to be condemned to death. A stake was therefore
prepared at Mechlin, and William was burnt alive amidst the lamentations
of pious men, who all mourned the death of this Christian martyr.[808]
A young man of Naarden, on the Zuyder Zee, not far from Amsterdam,
studied at the university of Louvain. Endowed with a certain good
nature, lively but not diligent, he voluntarily forsook his studies,
disregarded rules, laughed, drank, and spent his money. He returned to
Holland and to his father’s house. The influences of home appear to have
been salutary, and he began to reflect on his conduct. One day as he was
walking near the sea-shore, he suddenly fell down as if he had been
struck by lightning, and lay stretched upon the ground. Was this
collapse purely physical, or were moral causes in operation? The
remembrance of his misdeeds had doubtless something to do with it. The
young Dutchman had so completely lost consciousness that the people who
ran to his assistance and lifted him up thought that he was dead, and
carried the body home. He was laid on a bed, and gradually he came to
himself; but he was changed. He felt that the severe blow which the hand
of God had struck him was necessary to subdue him to obedience. He was
in distress; but the mercy of Christ consoled him, and henceforth he
walked uprightly. When he had been cast down, like Paul on the road to
Damascus, he had, like him, heard the voice of the Saviour. He diffused
light around him, going from place to place preaching the Gospel. These
events occurred in 1530. The imperial governor sent him orders to appear
at the Hague. He went voluntarily; but he was so simple and so true that
he was dismissed. The same thing happened a second time. But on a third
occasion he was sent to prison. He excited, however, so much interest in
those about him, that they offered him the means of escape. He refused
the offer, and was condemned to death. He went quite joyfully to
execution, with a heart full of love for God and for men. He was heard
singing a hymn to the praise of the Lord who called him to himself by a
death which was made sweet to him. He had nothing about him, not even
the smallest coin; but, seeing near the scaffold some poor people
entirely destitute, he took off with great simplicity his shoes and
stockings, and gave these to them.[809] The victims of Charles were men
of this sort.
[Sidenote: Mary Of Hungary.]
A change which took place in the government of this prince seemed likely
to effect a change with respect to evangelical Christians, and the
friends of the Reformation indulged lively hope from it. Margaret, aunt
of the emperor, who for ten years had governed the Netherlands with
wisdom but with severity, died in 1531, and was succeeded by Mary, queen
of Hungary, the sister of Charles. This princess was a great lover and
student of literature. ‘Verily,’ said Erasmus, speaking of her, ‘the
world is turned upside down; monks are ignorant and women are educated.’
She was a clever woman, of heroic spirit, and a great huntress. But when
she went to the hunt she carried the Gospels in her pocket. We have
already met with her in Hungary, and have not forgotten the words of
consolation which Luther gave her after the death of the king her
husband.
At the Diet of Augsburg she had had the Gospel preached in her own
house, and had won the hearts of the Protestants, who admired her
moderation and her piety. She loves the evangelicals, they used to say,
and has often allayed the wrath of the emperor. She pleads their cause
with him, although with moderation and timidity.[810] She was thus an
object of suspicion to the pope and his adherents, and they accused her
of heresy. The pope, when he had learnt her conduct, instructed his
legate to complain of her to the emperor. ‘She secretly favors,’ said
the nuncio to Charles, ‘the Lutheran faction; she lowers the Catholic
cause, and opposes the measures of your ministers.’[811] She was charged
even with having dissuaded the elector of Trèves from joining the
Catholic alliance, and with having prevented the bishop of Lavaur, envoy
of Francis I., from going into Germany for the purpose of taking counsel
with the Romish party.
Mary of Hungary arrived at Brussels, and took up her abode in the palace
of the court. Little reflection was needed to discover how difficult was
the position assigned her. Although she was not a fully enlightened
Christian and disciple of the Reformation, she nevertheless loved the
Gospel and felt pity for the persecuted evangelicals. On the other hand,
she was sent by her brother to execute his laws against the Protestants,
laws which the emperor did not fail to sanction and often to aggravate
by new ones. What should Mary do? How escape from this cruel dilemma?
She ought to have refused the government with which her brother had
invested her; but this office gave to the widowed queen a rank among the
princes of Europe, and Charles was not one of those whose favors it was
easy to refuse. He had set her in a false position, and unhappily she
remained there. She proposed to steer her course between two contrary
currents; and, while carrying out the orders of her lord and brother,
while endeavoring also to retain his favor and to dissipate his
suspicions by severe letters against the Protestants, she strove as much
as she could to alleviate their sufferings. Some have believed that as
governess of the Netherlands, she had renounced the religious sentiments
which she had held as queen. This, we think, is a mistake. Her life was
a tissue of inconsistencies and contradictions; but she held to the last
sentiments which were suspected at Rome. This was shown by the
determination of Philip II., who, when he resolved to execute in these
provinces his sanguinary designs, recalled his aunt to Spain. Poor
woman, poor princess! What inward struggles she had to undergo!
Nevertheless, it must be acknowledged that the torments which she
suffered in her own heart were the penalty of her ambition and her
cowardice. By the course which she took she did harm even to the cause
which she had wished to promote. Her leaning to the Gospel, accompanied
by the sanction which she gave to the death of those whom in her own
conscience she honored, frequently added to the distress of pious men,
and increased the weakness and humiliation of the Reformation. Hope
deceived weighs down and disheartens.
[Sidenote: Cornelius Crocus.]
Meanwhile the evangelical meetings multiplied under Mary’s government.
They were held sometimes in the open air, and sometimes in concealed
retreats; and their attendants were counted by thousands. Among all the
towns of Holland, Amsterdam was distinguished by the number of its
inhabitants, its commercial activity, and the abundance of its wealth.
Evangelical doctrine had early been proclaimed there, either by some of
its inhabitants who cultivated literature and read the Greek Testament
of Erasmus, or by such of its burgesses as went to Germany on matters of
business and brought the Gospel back with them, or by pious foreigners
who came amongst them for the sake of their trade. There was a priest,
by name Cornelius Crocus, a learned man who taught the _belles-lettres_,
but at the same time, being full of zeal for the papacy, addicted
himself to all the Romish practices, and despised the Reformation. It
was, however, silently making progress around him, and he suddenly found
himself encompassed with evangelicals. His kinsfolk, his acquaintances,
and his former disciples[812] had embraced the doctrine of Luther and
Œcolampadius, and were aiming, he thought, to corrupt those who were
still pure in faith. He was alarmed. The peril which was hemming him
round took up his thoughts and tormented him night and day.
Nevertheless, full of confidence in himself, he fancied that if only he
could write a book the danger would be dispelled. But he saw one
obstacle in his way, and only one. As a member of the Minorite order, he
had every day so many prayers to read that not a single moment was left
him for composition. Only a month, he thought, one month of leisure,
would accomplish the task. The book would be written, and Lutheranism
destroyed. He resolved to apply to episcopal authority; and on the eve
of the Epiphany, 1531, he wrote to the official of Utrecht, delegate of
the bishop, to exercise his jurisdiction in this matter—‘I most
earnestly entreat you to permit me to break off my prayers for one month
only, in order that I may compose a work adapted to turn away men’s
minds from Luther and Œcolampadius, and to prevent the corruption of
those who are as yet unaffected. I am obliged to make all the more haste
because some of those whom I have in view are to set sail next month on
a voyage to the East, according to the custom at Amsterdam.’[813]
Amsterdam, already famous for its maritime expeditions, was even then
privileged to bear afar in its vessels the doctrine of the Gospel.
[Sidenote: Controversies.]
There was especially one evangelical at Amsterdam whom Crocus in his
alarm did not lose sight of. This was John Sartorius, who was, as it
appears, his colleague in teaching the _belles-lettres_. Born in this
town in 1500, endowed with remarkable ability and a strong character, he
had much distinguished himself as a student. On a visit to Delft, he had
made the acquaintance of Walter, a Dominican of Utrecht, who, being
proscribed by his own party, had taken refuge in this town. This monk
was the first to impart to Sartorius a taste for the truth. Afterwards,
Sartorius having become intimate with Angelo Merula, pastor of
Heenvliet, he gained by intercourse with this pious man, a solid
knowledge of the truths of the faith.[814] Sartorius was master of
Hebrew, Greek, and Latin; and being charged with the teaching of the
learned languages, he obtained permission of the magistrates to give his
pupils a course of Hebrew lessons which, as we know, was at this time
almost a heresy. Ere long he gave yet more convincing proofs of his
religious sentiments. While engaged on philology, he endeavored to
implant in the minds of his pupils the fundamental principles of the
Gospel; and the doctrine on which he most dwelt was that of faith
alone,[815] because he was certain, like all the reformers, that it was
the surest means of filling a Christian’s life with good works. Crocus,
while mechanically reading his long prayers was thinking of something
else; and, being carried away by the violence of his passion, uttered
loud cries. He resolved to attack Sartorius, confident that he should
crush him at the first blow. He therefore composed and printed at
Antwerp a work entitled _Concerning Faith and Works, against John
Sartorius_. Crocus was joined by Alard, another divine of Amsterdam.
‘This man,’ said he, ‘has a cultivated mind, but he has unfortunately
chosen the worst of all preceptors, presumption.’ Sartorius, though
sharply assailed, did not waver. Immovable in his faith, he courageously
defended it, and without flinching contended against the enemy. He was
not afraid of the superstitious, and was determined to resist them. He
wrote successively—_On justifying faith against Crocus_, and _On the
holy Eucharist_; and in these works, aiming to call things by their true
names, he fearlessly made use of expressions rather too strong. He
published also _Assertions of the Faith, addressed to the satellites of
Satan_.[816] But while he remained immovable in his convictions, he was
obliged frequently to change his place of residence. We find him at
Norwic, at Haarlem, and at Basel. Other evangelical Christians were
compelled like him to quit their native land. John Timann, having tasted
the truth and finding that he could not freely teach it to his
fellow-citizens, took refuge at Bremen, where he labored as a faithful
minister for thirty years, and there died. It was no unimportant matter
that the civil power should thus deprive the Christian people of their
guides, and this it was to learn one day to its own cost. Sartorius
could not endure exile, and he afterwards returned to his native land,
where
Longtemps tourmenté par un destin cruel,
Rend son corps à la terre et son esprit au ciel.
These are the last two lines of his epitaph, written by himself.[817]
Sartorius was one of the noblest combatants of the Reformation.
[Sidenote: Persecution At Amsterdam.]
Although the doctors had to take their flight, the Holy Scriptures and
the Christian books remained. It is even possible that Mary of Hungary
secretly promoted the printing of the Bible. This sacred book was
eagerly read in the Netherlands. ‘Ah,’ people used to say, ‘it is
because many of the dogmas taught by the clergy are not to be found in
the oracles of God, that the reading of them is so rigorously
prohibited.’ Thus the wrath of Charles and of his councillors was
kindled against the authors, the printers, and the readers of these
books which contradicted Rome; and a new placard made its appearance
(1531), drawn up with a refinement of cruelty. It was posted up in all
the provinces, and ran thus—‘It is forbidden to write, to print, or to
cause to be printed or written any book whatsoever without permission of
the bishops. If any one do so, he shall be put in the pillory; the
executioner shall take a cross of iron, he shall heat it red-hot, and
applying it to his person shall brand him; or he shall pluck out one of
his eyes, or cut off one of his hands,[818] at the discretion of the
judge.’ The papacy in the sixteenth century was not in favor of freedom
of the press.
At the same time, orders were given for the promulgation, every six
months, without delay, of the edict of 1529. There were some things the
remembrance of which Charles V. was not willing that his _faithful
ones_, as he called them,[819] should for one moment lose. Men were
bound always to keep in mind the _sword_, women the _pit_, and the
relapsed the _fire_. Three good thoughts these were, fit to keep alive
the fidelity of the faithful. The government did not restrict itself to
words. A little while after, the agents of the imperial authority at
Amsterdam, entering by night into certain houses, which they had marked
during the day, crept noiselessly to the bedsides of those whom they
sought, seized nine men, ordered them to put on their hose immediately
and without murmuring, and then carried them off to the Hague. There, by
the command of the emperor, they were beheaded.
They were suspected of preferring the baptism of adults to that of
infants.[820]
These executions produced profound irritation among the free population
of the Netherlands, and in some places they offered resistance to the
caprices of the autocrat. Deventer contained many evangelicals.
Consequently, some envoys of the emperor received instructions, in 1532,
to make an inquiry concerning those suspected of Lutheranism. It was
intended to place the unhappy town under the régime of the fire, the
sword, and the pit. When the envoys of Charles arrived at the gates of
the city their entrance was prohibited.[821] They were amazed to see the
townsmen sending away the deputies of their sovereign. ‘We demand
admission of you _in the name of the emperor_,’ repeated the imperial
officers. The senate and the tribunes of the people assembled. The
question was hardly discussed. The ancient Dutch immunities still lived
in the hearts of these citizens, and they intended to put in practice
the right of free manifestation of conscience. The deputies of the
senate therefore went to the gates of the city and said to the envoys of
Charles—‘We can not by any means consent that foreign commissioners
should usurp the rights which you claim. If you have any complaint to
make, carry it before the burgomaster or before the delegates of the
senate.’ Noble and courageous town, whose generous example is to be held
in honor!
[Sidenote: A Family Of Martyrs.]
All magistrates were not so bold. At Limburg, a small town in the
province of Liège, many of the townsmen had been converted to the Gospel
without being exposed to any interference on the part of the
magistrates. Among these converts was one family, all of whose members
were consecrated to God. There were six of them: the father and mother,
two daughters and their husbands. Called one after another to the
knowledge of the Saviour, they had taken their lamps in their hands in
order to show to others the path of life; and truly their upright and
holy life enlightened those who were witnesses of it. Some emissaries of
the emperor arrived (1532), and no one stopped them at the gates. The
home of this family was immediately pointed out to them. They entered
the house, and seized father and mother, sons and daughters. Sobs and
groans were now heard in this abode, which used before to resound with
the singing of psalms. In the midst of their great trial, however, these
six Christians had one consolation—they were not separated from each
other, but were condemned to be all burnt at the same fire. The pile was
constructed outside the town, near the heights of Rotfeld.[822] While
they were being led to execution, the father and mother, the two
daughters, and the sons-in-law felt, it is said, a kind of holy
transport, and uttered cries of joy.[823] It appears, however, that some
among them showed signs of momentary weakness. Therefore, desirous of
strengthening each other, they began to sing together their beautiful
psalms—‘God is our God forever and ever; He will be our guide even unto
death.’ Thus they reached the place of execution; and each of them
breathed his last calling upon the Lord Jesus.[824] This blessed family
had been removed to heaven all together, and without any painful
separation.
Persecution did not slacken. In 1533, four men accused of holding
evangelical doctrines were put to death at Bois-le-Duc. Five men and one
woman, terrified at the prospect of death, abjured their faith and were
condemned to walk in procession before the host, carrying lighted
tapers, to cast their Lutheran books into the fire, and to wear
constantly on their garments a yellow cross. One man, named Sikke
Snyder, was beheaded at Leeuwarden for having received baptism as an
adult;[825] and not long before, a woman, for the same crime, had been
thrown into the lake of Haarlem. This was the most expeditious way to
get rid of her; but they did her husband the honor of burning him alive,
with two of his friends, at the Hague.
The like crimes marked the year 1534. A potter of Bois-le-Duc lost his
head for the crime of being an evangelical. William Wiggertson suffered
the same fate, but secretly, in the fortress of Schagen; and Schol, a
priest of Amsterdam, distinguished for his eloquence and his virtues,
was condemned to the flames at Brussels.[826]
These horrors—and there were many besides those we have described—could
not but produce a fatal reaction. The persecutions which befell the
adherents of the reformed faith in those lands in which the change was
most thorough, in the Netherlands, in France, in England, and in
Scotland, were to exert a lasting influence. It is felt even to the
present day. It may be said that the martyr-fires are hardly yet
extinguished, that the bell of Saint Bartholomew’s Day is still
resounding, and that there are yet visible the last of those numerous
bands of prisoners and of refugees, defiling some of them to the
galleys, others into exile. In the Lutheran countries, and especially in
Germany, where the blood of the martyrs was not spilt at all, or to a
very small extent, there is a certain moderation, and even some
kindliness in the intercourse between Roman Catholics and Protestants.
The conflict there is scientific only. But it is otherwise in the
countries of the reformed or Calvinistic faith. There people do not
forget the fire and the sword, and the two parties appear to be
irreconcilable. If this is the present result of cruelties perpetrated
more than three centuries ago, we may imagine what the effect must have
been on contemporaries. They filled the hearts of pious men with sorrow
and distress.
[Sidenote: The Enthusiasts.]
As early as 1531, it was generally acknowledged that the whole body of
the people would embrace the Reformation if persecution ceased. Those
who were not guided by the fear of God were exasperated and enraged with
the persecutors. Nor was this the worst; the want of spiritual leaders
left the field open to enthusiasts who believed themselves inspired, and
to impostors who pretended to be so. If the pastors are set aside, fools
or knaves set themselves up as prophets, and, instead of instructing the
people, lead them astray. It appears that some of the disciples of the
enthusiastic divines whom Luther and Zwinglius had strenuously opposed,
when driven out of Germany and Switzerland, brought their visions into
the Netherlands. They knew that these lands had long been in the
enjoyment of liberty, and hoped that they should be able to propagate
their system there without disturbance. The persecutions of the Romish
clergy threw many evangelicals into their arms. The system of these
enthusiasts was altogether opposed to that of the reformers. They
differed, in particular, as to the doctrine of the powerlessness of the
soul for good. They consequently separated into two parties. Man, said
some of their doctors, is able by his own power to obtain salvation. For
these, Christ was a schoolmaster rather than a Saviour; and some of
them, Kaetzer, for example, positively denied his divinity. ‘He redeems
us,’ they said, ‘by pointing out the path that we ought to pursue.’[827]
Others asserted that the flesh alone was subject to sin, that the spirit
was not affected, and that it had no share in the fall. All of them
looked upon the evangelical church and its institutions as a new papacy.
Both alike, they affirmed, the new and the old, were about to be
destroyed, and a great transformation of the world was about to be
effected. It would begin by depriving kings and magistrates, and by
putting pastors and priests to death.
These so-called prophets frequently made their appearance without any
one’s knowing whence they came or whither they went. They began by
saluting in the name of the Lord. Then they spoke of the corruption of
the world. They announced the end of all things, naming even the day and
the hour, and they styled themselves the messengers of God to seal the
elect with the seal of the covenant. All those who were sealed were
about to be gathered together from the four quarters of the world, and
all the ungodly would be destroyed. They especially addressed themselves
to artisans, and in them they found men more intelligent than the
peasants of the rural districts, men wearied with their laborious
occupations, bitter about their low wages, and full of eager desire for
a better position. The principal leaders were tailors, shoemakers, and
bakers. The majority of these respectable classes stood aloof from the
dreams of the fanatics, and continued to earn their livelihood by honest
means. But the enthusiasts among them in Switzerland, in Alsace, in
Germany, in the Netherlands, and elsewhere, proposed to form a great
international league, by means of which they would live in pleasure and
have nothing to do. Professing themselves inspired of God for the
accomplishment of His purposes, they gave themselves up ere long to the
most shameful passions and the most cruel actions. It has been remarked
that the most signal example of fanaticism recorded in the pages of
history was inspired by an exaggerated devotion to the papal system; and
those citizens of Paris have become famous, who on the night of Saint
Bartholomew, assassinated, butchered, and tore to pieces those of their
fellow-citizens who did not go to mass. History, however, does present
to us a fanaticism yet more disgusting, if it be not more cruel. It was
that of a sect which was neither Romanist nor Protestant—the enthusiasts
of whom we speak. And if we consider their relations, whether with Rome
or with Protestantism, it seems to us that it is no deviation from a
wise impartiality to say that the cruelties of the imperial government,
frequently supported by the priests, essentially contributed to plunge
these unfortunate men into their extravagances and cruelties; while the
Protestant divines earnestly contended against them with the pen, and
the princes with the sword.
If the fire of fanaticism was sometimes brought from Germany into the
Netherlands, it was most frequently kindled there without foreign aid.
The fermentation which took place in certain rude and coarse natures,
and the persecutions of Rome, developed there an unwholesome heat which
irritated men’s tempers and inflamed their imaginations. There was no
need here of Stork, of Munzer, or of Manz.
[Sidenote: Prophets.]
In 1533, agents of the Government discovered arms in the possession of
some of the enthusiasts.[828] ‘Assuredly,’ said Queen Mary, ‘this is not
far from sedition.’ Melchior Hoffmann, a Suabian fur-trader, a clever,
eloquent, and audacious man, had before this time spent some years at
Embden, in East Friesland, and had given himself out as one called of
God to contend against the doctrines of the pope, of Luther, and of
Zwinglius, and to manifest the truth to the world.[829] John Matthison,
a Haarlem baker, an acute, daring, and immoral man, now at Amsterdam,
had enthusiastic raptures, and asserted himself to be Enoch.[830] He
pretended that as such he was charged to announce the coming of the
kingdom of God; he predicted sufferings so horrible against those who
refused to believe him, that the poor people in their terror fancied
they already saw hell opened before them; and subdued by alarm they
blindly believed every thing that Enoch told them. Among his disciples
was one John Bockhold, a Leyden tailor, whom he ordained, and whom he
sent out with eleven others (twelve apostles!) to preach the new Gospel.
The restitution of all things is at hand, said these new prophets. A
spiritual and temporal reign of Christ is approaching. None will be
admitted but the righteous; the ungodly must be destroyed beforehand.
Even ministers must take the sword and establish the new kingdom by
force. Then, desirous of assigning to each his part, they declared that
‘Luther and the pope were, indeed, both of them false prophets, but that
Luther was the worst.’[831] ‘The times of persecution are ended,’ cried
they, in the midst of the populations terrified by the cruelties of
Charles the Fifth; ‘you have nothing more to fear. The moment is come in
which the faithful will triumph over the whole earth, and will render
unto tyrants double for the evil which they have done them.’ If any one
hesitated to believe the prophets, they charged him with resisting the
Spirit of God; called him Korah, Abiram, or Jambres; and the poor
people, afraid of opposing a divine mission, accepted with trembling the
promises which were to put an end to their sufferings. The tailor
Bockhold preached thus at Amsterdam, Enkhuysen, Alkmaar, Rotterdam and
elsewhere, establishing in all these places small communities of the
faithful, numbering from ten to twenty persons. The thought that the
cruel tyranny of Charles was about to be brought to judgment, and that
it was necessary to hasten the end, took possession of men’s minds. They
became restless, and had no thought but of taking vengeance on those
whose instruments were the pit, the fire, and the sword.
[Sidenote: Delusions.]
One night, in a solitary spot in the province of Groningen, a man rose
in the midst of a great multitude which had come together from all
quarters. He was naked to the waist, his soul was troubled, his
intellect disordered, his thoughts incoherent; and, in a state of the
strangest hallucination, he cried out with an unsteady and inharmonious
voice, ‘I am God the Father.... Kill, kill the priests and the monks;
kill the magistrates of the whole world, but especially those who govern
us. Repent ye, repent ye! Behold, your deliverance is at hand.’ This
maniac, whose name was Hermann, gave utterance to terrible groans and
vociferations,[832] and heated and inflamed as he was, he drank great
draughts of wine to allay his thirst.
The rumor was continually gaining ground that the hour of judgment was
approaching, that all the faithful would be saved, but that unbelievers
would perish under severe chastisements. More than three hundred men
hurried together in a single night, filled with alarm, and demanded with
loud cries the baptism which was to shelter them from the judgments of
heaven, and they received it, convinced that all those who had not
received it were going to perish.
A spirit of darkness was more and more diffusing itself among the poor
and ignorant men who were terrified by the executions. It seized even
upon the most vulgar classes, worked them up to a state of fatal fear,
and subjected them to the force of extravagant imaginations. One night,
a young gardener[833] got up and went to the bedside of Hermann, who
gave himself out as the Father eternal, and said to him, ‘I am the Son
of God.’ Then, filled with pity for the wretched ones who were
persecuted by the agents of the emperor and of the priests, and who did
not believe in the deliverance proclaimed, he cried out, ‘O Father, have
pity on the people: have pity! and pardon.’ A great crowd had assembled;
he took a cupful of strong drink and drank it, intending to honor the
Holy Spirit; then mounting on a chair, he uttered piercing cries,
proclaiming himself the Son of God. Seeing his mother in the crowd, he
turned to her: ‘Dost thou not believe,’ he said before them all, ‘and
dost thou not confess that thou hast brought forth the Son of God?’ The
poor woman, astonished and alarmed, not knowing what had happened to her
son, replied quite simply that she did not. The deluded man then flew
into a rage and so terrified his poor mother that she stammered out,
tremblingly, that she did believe it. But one of the men who were
present, having declared that he for his part did not believe it at all,
the demoniac seized him and hurled him violently into the filth of a
dunghill that lay near a cow-shed. ‘Behold,’ he said, ‘thou art lying in
the abyss of hell.’ A robust man, who had good sense and was indignant
at these fooleries, now seized him and threw him down. Others, not very
tolerant, threw themselves upon the raving maniac and overwhelmed him
with blows; so that the unfortunate man had much difficulty in making
his escape by flight from the hands of those who so roughly chastised
him. As to Hermann, he was arrested by order of the magistrate,
conducted to Groningen, and cast into prison. The atrocious cruelties of
Louis XIV. also gave rise to similar acts on the part of enthusiasts.
But there is no room for comparison between the sincere and often pious
Camisards and the coarse and impure fanatics of the Netherlands. These
facts of different kinds agree only in showing the fatal consequences of
the criminal persecutions of the papacy. The sect of the enthusiasts,
however, became purer in course of time.
[Sidenote: Adoption Of Calvinism.]
At the same time an important change was gradually effected among the
evangelicals who remained faithful to the Word of God. A profound
acquaintance with the history of the Netherlands in the sixteenth
century has not in all cases excluded a mistake—not, however, very
widely spread—as to the origin of the Reformation in these provinces. It
has been asserted that it had found its way thither, not through
Germany, but through France, by means of the Huguenots.[834] We have
seen that it came direct from Wittenberg, and that at the very beginning
of the movement. From what took place at Antwerp and in other towns,
there is no room for doubt on the subject. But after those mad, fierce
displays of fanaticism, that portion of the evangelicals which had
continued sane (and this formed the great majority), sided by preference
with the French and Swiss Reformation; and step by step the Netherlands,
which had apparently embraced the Reformation of Luther, attached
themselves to that of Calvin. Geneva took the place of Wittenberg.
Viglius, who was appointed by Charles the Fifth president of the great
council at Mechlin, said—‘There are but few who adhere to the confession
of Augsburg; Calvinism has taken possession of almost all hearts.’[835]
To assert that the sole cause of this movement was the fanaticism which
passed from the banks of the Rhine into the Netherlands would be an
exaggeration. There were other causes at work in this transformation;
but the enthusiasm, the disgust, and the alarm which it aroused went for
much. This fact is no disparagement to Lutheranism, for Luther and his
adherents were ‘at this time the most vigorous censurers of these
disorderly proceedings.’ One other cause besides might be assigned for
the change, so remarkable and almost unique, which was brought about in
the Netherlands. It was in this country that the most furious
persecution raged. Now, it has been remarked that those reformed parties
which were the objects of violent persecution were those which rejected
images, crucifixes, and every thing which tradition has bequeathed to
some Protestant churches, and resolved to maintain the conflict
according to the teaching of the Scriptures, only by the word of their
testimony and by the blood of the Lamb. This remark is worthy of some
attention; but it must not be forgotten that no one drew more strength
than Luther did from the arsenal of the Word of God.
Footnote 801:
Dumont, _Corps universel diplomatique_, iv. pp. 1, 5.
Footnote 802:
Haræi, _Annales Ducum Brabantiæ_, ii. p. 582, Gerdesius, _Ann._ iii.
p. 65. Brandt, Schook.
Footnote 803:
Pontanus, _Hist. Geldr._ lib. xi. fol. 762.
Footnote 804:
Sleidan, Scultetus, Rabus, _Martyrologium_, Gerdesius, _Ann._ iii. pp.
41, 67. Melchior Adam.
Footnote 805:
‘Sine mora fidei suæ rationem exhibendam esse.’—Gerdesius, _Ann._ iii.
p. 68.
Footnote 806:
Ephes. vi. 17.
Footnote 807:
‘Illa confessio ingenua certe ac singulari pietate
conspicua.’—Gerdesius, _Ann._ iii. p. 70.
Footnote 808:
‘Magno piorum luctu vivus sit combustus.’—_Ibid._
Footnote 809:
Brandt.
Footnote 810:
‘Pro quibus non semel, timide licet et verecunde, apud Cæsarem
intercesserat.’—Gerdesius, _Ann._ iii. p. 74.
Footnote 811:
Sarpi, _Hist. of the Council of Trent_, § lxi.
Footnote 812:
‘Sunt quidam partim cognati mei partim noti partim etiam qui fuerunt
discipuli mei.’—Letter from Crocus to the official of Utrecht, 1531.
Foppens, _Bibliotheca Belgica_, i. p. 197. Gerdesius, _Ann._ iii. p.
76.
Footnote 813:
‘Mense proximo quidam illorum navibus profecturi sunt in partes
orientales, ut hic Amsterdami mos est.’—Gerdesius, _Ann._ iii. p. 76.
Footnote 814:
Pauli Merulæ, _Descriptio rerum adv. Ang. Merulam gestarum_, p. 108.
Footnote 815:
‘Quum. . . imprimis de justificatione ex sola fide doctrinam
evangelicam urgeret.’—Gerdesius, _Ann._ iii. p. 77.
Footnote 816:
‘Assertiones fidei ad Satanæ satellitium.’—_Ibid._ p. 78.
Footnote 817:
‘Sed postquam virtus duris exercita fatis
Destituit corpus, spiritus astra tenet.’
Gerdesius, _Ann._ iii. p. 78.
Footnote 818:
‘Et candentem crucem cauterio inurendam.’—Gerdesius, _Ann._ iii. p.
79.
Footnote 819:
‘Cæsar suis fidelibus salutem.’—Edict of 1529.
Footnote 820:
Brandt. i. p. 37.
Footnote 821:
‘Legatos Cæsaris admittere suam in urbem noluerunt.’—Revii, _Deventria
illustrata_, p. 250. Gerdesius. _Ann._ iii. 80.
Footnote 822:
‘Ad Montana Rotfeldii.’—_Histoire des Martyrs_, fol. 686.
Footnote 823:
‘Jubilis dicuntur replevisse viam supplicii.’—Gerdesius, _Ann._ iii.
p. 80.
Footnote 824:
Gerdesius. Brandt, i. p. 40.
Footnote 825:
Brandt, i. p. 40.
Footnote 826:
Brandt i. p. 41.
Footnote 827:
Röhrich, _Ref. in Elsass_, i. p. 338. Ranke, iii p. 367.
Footnote 828:
‘In Transisalania arma bellica apud sectarios quosdam
inveniri.’—Gerdesius, _Ann._ iii. p. 82.
Footnote 829:
‘Non papismum solum, sed Lutheri quoque et Zwinglii doctrinam
vehementer reprehendebat.’—_Ibid_. p. 83. Emmius, _Hist. rer. Frisic._
lib. lv. p. 860.
Footnote 830:
‘Se Enochum esse affirmavit.’—Gerdesius, _Ann._ iii. p. 87.
Footnote 831:
‘Lutherum et pontificem Romanum esse falsos prophetas, Lutherum tamen
altero deteriorem.’—Opus restitutionis. Gerdesius, _Ann._ iii. p. 83.
Footnote 832:
‘Ululantem potius quam clamantem.’—Emmius, _Hist. rerum Frisicarum_,
lib. lvii. fol. 884. Gerdesius, _Ann._ iii. p. 91.
Footnote 833:
Gerdesius, _Ann._ iii. p. 92.
Footnote 834:
See Mr. Motley’s great work on the Foundation of the United Provinces,
part ii. ch. i. It contains an account of the early days of the
Reformation in the Netherlands. The Christianity which was propagated
in the times of which we are speaking became the principal cause of
the great and tragic revolution described by this historian.
Footnote 835:
‘Confessioni Augustanæ paucissimi adherent, sed Calvinismus omnium
pæne corda occupavit’—Viglius van Zuichem to Hopper.
CHAPTER XII.
LOUVAIN.
(1537-1544.)
At this point the history of the Netherlands presents to us a noble
spectacle: we see on the one hand the little ones, those unknown to the
world, serving God with fervor and indomitable resolution, and on the
other hand, persecutors thirsting for their blood, and conflicts and
martyrdoms awaiting them. The heroism of the lowly appears infinitely
small in the eyes of the world. In our eyes it is one of the glories of
the Reformation, that in its history the little ones are especially
brought before us. This is one of the features which distinguish it from
secular history, which takes delight chiefly in palaces and in the
splendid achievements of conquerors.
[Sidenote: Evangelists At Ghent.]
At Brussels, Antwerp, Louvain, Ghent, and other towns, there were many
friends of the Gospel. Evangelical Christianity was continually gaining
strength, but at the same time Romish fanaticism was also on the
increase. Ghent, a town of such extent that it was called _a country
rather than a town_, contained at this period numerous adherents of the
Reformation. So much did they hunger and thirst after sound doctrine
that, in 1537, when a preacher who spoke French only preached the Gospel
in this town, where nothing but Flemish was understood, numberless
hearers thronged around him and hung upon his lips. Pierre Bruly
(Brulius)—this was his name—spoke with such fervor of spirit, and with
eloquence so forcible, that the Flemings, although they could not
understand what he said, were edified by the earnest and affectionate
feeling with which he spoke. When the sermon was over, some of his
hearers who could afford it, anxious to know exactly what was said by a
preacher who pleased them so much, betook themselves to persons who were
acquainted with both languages, and, taking out of their pockets the
small bag in which they carried their money, said to them—‘Translate to
us, if you please, the discourse which the preacher has delivered; we
will give you so much for it.’[836] More than three hundred of the
Ghentese, men and women, appear to have been converted by the preaching
of Bruly. As he was anxious, however, to address people who could
understand him, he left Flanders three or four years later, and went to
Strasburg, where he succeeded Calvin as pastor of the French Church.
People said of him—‘He has, like the young Picard (Calvin) a pure
doctrine and a spotless life.’ We shall meet with him again hereafter in
Belgium.
Happily, other friends of the Gospel still remained in Ghent. There was
Clava, an old man in years, said Erasmus, but who always renews his
youth like the spring-tide and bears the most beautiful fruit; Jean
Cousard also, who had been a correspondent of Zwinglius; and especially
the four Utenhovs. Nicholas Utenhov, a distinguished jurisconsult, an
elegant littérateur, a wise, modest, and upright man, long held at
Ghent, with high honor, the presidency of the Supreme Council of
Flanders. Every moment of leisure that he could snatch amidst the noises
of the palace, the numerous causes brought before him, the exclamations
of the suitors and the advocates who were about him, Utenhov employed in
reading the Holy Scriptures; and he frequently devoted to the study of
them part of the night.[837]
Martin van Cleyne, a physician, a commentator on Hippocrates and Galen,
tasted the Word of God, rejoicing to see how faith and the Gospel healed
sick souls and gave them a new life. In the practice of his art he had
never seen such marvellous cures; and he said to himself that, in spite
of all the efforts which physicians make to heal them, men nevertheless
die at last; while Jesus Christ heals forever and makes immortal. He
therefore began to communicate to his friends and neighbors the
sovereign remedy which he had discovered. But, being persecuted by the
Inquisition, he went to London under the assumed name of Micron, and
became pastor of the Belgian church there.[838]
When Alasco arrived at Louvain he found there zealous partisans both of
the papacy and the Gospel; on the one side theologians and fanatical
monks, and on the other a little flock among the citizens who received
gladly the light of the Gospel. A lady, belonging to one of the
principal families of the town, Antoinette Haveloos (born van Roesmals)
many of whose ancestors had in old times occupied the foremost place in
the state, was animated with a lively piety, and, by her virtues, was an
example to all the town.[839] She possessed at this time a competency,
which she afterwards lost, and she joyfully practised hospitality. It
was in her house that Alasco took up his abode when he came to
Louvain.[840] Antoinette was then about fifty-two years of age, and she
resided at a place called Bollebore, from a fountain situated near the
river La Vuerre. ‘Above all things she was given to reading and
meditating on the Holy Scriptures; and by this means she became
acquainted with the will of God, which she also put in practice,
discharging towards her neighbors the offices of charity.’[841] She was,
moreover, regarded as the soul of the Reformation in Louvain. She had a
daughter named Gudule, elegant in figure, perfectly beautiful and
refined, at this time in the flower of her age.[842] Gudule was reserved
and modest, and did not make much display of her religious sentiments;
but she had deep feeling and especially great love for her mother.
Antoinette’s family circle was large, and her nephews and nieces had
almost all become believers in the Gospel.
[Sidenote: Jan Van Ousberghen.]
The Reformation also counted numerous friends beyond the limits of this
family. The most faithful evangelist of Louvain was Jan van Ousberghen.
His was not a spirit restless with rash zeal. The bookseller Jerome
Cloet, who was well acquainted with him, called him ‘the quietest man in
Louvain.’[843] He appears to have been well educated, and to have read
the Latin works on the faith which were published in Germany and
elsewhere. He let no opportunity slip of making the Gospel known, and
souls were enlightened by his private conversation. ‘To the instructions
of Jan van Ousberghen,’ said a pious woman, Catherine, the wife of the
sculptor Beyaerts, ‘I am indebted for the sentiments which I
profess.[844] Still more frequently Ousberghen spoke at meetings held in
private houses, in the farms of the neighborhood, and in the open air.
There were also at Louvain a small number of priests who, although they
acted with less freedom than Ousberghen, nevertheless exercised a
powerful influence. Among them was one man of sixty, feeble in body, his
head hoary with age, modest, but very learned. His name was Paul van
Roovere. He possessed many hymns, psalms, and other writings in the
vulgar tongue (Flemish), besides the Holy Scriptures, in the study of
which he spent his time.[845] He was a poet and was very skilful in
versification; he was likewise a musician and player on the flute. The
evangelicals of Louvain frequently accosted him when they saw him in the
street, at church, or in the cathedral of Louvain, where he appears to
have discharged some ecclesiastical functions. The sculptor Jan
Beyaerts, one day in Lent, entered into conversation with him in St.
Peter’s church, opposite to the altar of St. Ann. They spoke of the
communion, and Master Paul, setting transubstantiation aside, said that
the holy supper was simply a pledge which Christ had left to us of his
passion by which we are saved. Master Paul had established a charitable
fund for the poor reformed Christians; and when he went to the house of
Catherine Sclercx, the wife of Rogiers, he used frequently to give her
money to distribute to the poor, ‘because he knew that she liked to
visit the houses of the needy.’[846] This pious priest was at the same
time an agreeable man, and his conversation ‘turned upon entertaining
subjects.’ He was a handsome old man, always kindly and good-humored.
‘Sincere convictions,’ it has been observed, ‘do not exclude the love of
the fine arts or the graces of wit.’[847]
Master Paul had a friend, Matthew van Rillaert, with whom ‘he often
talked about the word of God and the sacrament of the Eucharist, and
discussed the questions whether communion should be in both kinds and
whether priests ought to marry.’ ‘Ah,’ said Matthew, ‘better take a wife
than commit the sin of fornication.’ He often went to the shop of the
bookseller Jerome Cloet, and ‘there religious subjects were talked of,
the councils of the Church and justification by faith.’[848] But among
the believers, of Louvain the most eminent was Master Peter Rythove,
school-master of St. Gertrude, who, in this capacity, was entrusted with
the education of young men intended for the ministry. He was a
well-informed man, and the most learned of the theologians. He was a
frequent visitor at the bookseller Cloet’s, and used even to buy books
on botany, medicine, and other sciences.[849]
[Sidenote: An Innocent Walk.]
One of the most noteworthy personages of the evangelical band at Louvain
was Jacques Gosseau, bachelor of the Civil and Canon Laws, and formerly
dean of the Drapers’ Guild. He lived on his fortune. He had married
Mary, the niece of Antoinette van Roesmals. One day, at vintage-time,
when Antoinette, her daughter Gudule, and other friends were at his
house, Mary said that she had a great longing to eat some grapes, and
proposed to go to Rosselberg to the vineyard of her sister Martha. The
Rosselberg is a line of hills which takes its name from the ferruginous
color of the soil. Extensive vineyards existed there till the
seventeenth century. ‘With all my heart,’ said Antoinette. The company
rose to depart. It was in the afternoon. When they came to the ramparts,
near the gates of the city, they met the evangelist Van Ousberghen, Jan
Beyaerts and his wife Catherine. They walked on together towards the
Rosselberg; and on the way Jan van Ousberghen, began to read in the New
Testament. They arrived at the vineyard. The porter, said one of the
accused, was ‘a believer.’ They ate some grapes; and then on their way
back the party took the road to Boschstrathen, and sat down for a while
in the fields. Jan van Ousberghen again took his precious volume and
read in the New Testament. Many persons were afterwards prosecuted for
this innocent walk.[850]
But the conferences on matters of faith, as they used to call them, were
chiefly held at the house of Antoinette, either at Bollebore or at the
black Lys, where she afterwards took up her abode.
There were present both men and women of various ranks, who freely
conversed with one another. It is probable that Alasco attended these
meetings, especially those held at Antoinette’s house, in which he often
resided. His name, however, does not appear in the interrogatories. Jan
Schats often read the Bible there. There is no purgatory, said he; the
soul, when it escapes from the body, rests until the day of judgment in
a place which God knows.[851] Jan Vicart, the haberdasher of the Golden
Gate, said—‘There are two churches, the Christian church and the church
of Rome. It is enough for us to make confession to God, because from Him
cometh all salvation. I receive the sacrament in remembrance of Christ,
and I bring up my daughters in these sentiments.’[852]
[Sidenote: Boldness Of Beyaerts.]
The faith of some of these disciples was not steadfast and pure. The
sculptor Beyaerts was one of the frequenters of these meetings; but he
held some views which were more ardent than profound, and had more
enthusiasm than steadfastness in his faith. In each of the churches of
St. Peter and St. James there was a picture intended to impress the
parishioners and induce them to come forward to the help of souls
detained in purgatory. Beyaerts devoted himself to the task of putting
an end to the scandal which these pictures occasioned among his friends.
One evening he went by stealth into St. Peter’s church, near the tower,
under the bells, by the side of a crucifix. He was alone in the church;
he took down the picture, concealed it under his gown, and went quickly
away. Meeting Catherine Sclercx, she saw the picture and said to him,
‘Well done.’ Beyaerts did the same with the picture in St. James’s
church, and all his friends were pleased, and said that these pictures
were ‘wicked cheats.’ But this same man, now so bold, displayed
lamentable weakness when brought before the judges.
But there was something more than weakness. The Spirit of God was
carrying on His work at Louvain and in the Netherlands, but the evil one
was not idle. A black sheep had crept into the fold. George Stocx, a
member of a chamber of rhetoric, and author of various songs and poems,
appears to have belonged to the party of the libertines. While he was a
devout speaker at the meetings he denied his doctrine by his manner of
life. He sought after opportunities of luxurious living, sang verses
which excited laughter, danced and drank. One evening after attending a
feast at Gempe, he was so drunk when the time came for returning to
Louvain that they had to throw him into a wagon.[853]
It was otherwise with Jan van Ousberghen. With respect to him there was
but one testimony. He was a holy man, people said, who had suffered much
for the glory of God.[854] He had strong faith in Christ, great piety,
singular modesty, and marvellous steadfastness. He was the soul of the
meetings held in the house of Antoinette. But two calamities
successively occurred to waste the little Christian flock. An epidemic
broke out in Louvain, apparently in 1539. It attacked especially the
household of Antoinette, and carried off her husband and several of her
children. The disconsolate widow took refuge, with Gudule, who was
spared to her, in one of the towers of the town. These towers looked
over the country, and the plague-stricken were compelled to resort to
them, to prevent contagion spreading in the town. This epidemic, which
took from Antoinette the objects of her tenderest affections, made a
change also in her condition of life. She was henceforth ‘a poor old
woman, laden with poverty and sufferings, having lost all that she
possessed, even her very means of subsistence.’[855] But the Gospel
remained to her.
[Sidenote: Arrests By Night.]
The persecution of 1540 had been only partial. The inquisitors were
provoked to see that it had not put an end to what they called heresy.
Evangelical books and lectures were multiplied. The theologians and the
monks—the band of Pharisees, as they were called by a minister of the
day—multiplied their complaints and outcries. The Council of Brabant
resolved, at the beginning of 1543, to make a general arrest of
suspected persons at Brussels, Antwerp, Oudenarde, and especially at
Louvain, where the reformed Christians were taking greater and greater
liberties. In the course of March the attorney-general, Peter du Fief, a
man notorious for his violent and unjust proceedings, arrived at
Louvain. He determined, in order that none of those who had been
denounced to him might escape, to apprehend them in a body during their
first sleep. One night, in the middle of March, when it was already
dark, Peter du Fief assembled his men and informed them that the
business in hand was the seizure and imprisonment of all the heretics,
without any noise, and without words, in the darkness. Between ten and
eleven o’clock at night the officers set out on their way. The poor
people, mostly of the class of artisans, wearied with their day-labor,
had lain down to rest in their beds without a thought of any thing
happening.[856] The officers knocked at the door. If perchance the
father of the family, on account of his hard work, had fallen into a
sound sleep and did not immediately come to open to them, the door was
broken down, and these _brigands_ hastened violently to the very bedside
of the father. There they took by surprise the husband and the wife,
who, starting out of sleep, stared about, wondering what was the matter.
The sergeants immediately laid hands on the husband, sometimes on both
husband and wife, according to orders, and took them away.[857] Thus
were seen leaving their homes the sculptor Beyaerts and his wife
Catherine, Dietrich Gheylaert and his wife Mary, van der Donckt and his
wife Elizabeth. The children, who were beside their parents, sometimes
even in the same bed, were the last to wake, and they all trembled. The
whole house was filled with armed men, torches were flaring here and
there, soldiers were ferreting about in every corner in search of books
or men—a suspected book was sufficient ground for a sentence of
death—drawn swords, halberts and cuirasses gleamed in the pale light of
the torches. The little ones, who saw their father and mother ill-used,
dragged one this way, the other that way, and carried off with their
hands bound, wept and cried aloud. They called after them—‘Where are you
going, father? Where are you going, mother? Who is going to stay here?
Who will give us our food to-morrow?’ The sergeants, fearing that the
neighbors would hear these cries and come to help them, seized the
little ones. ‘The poor children were flogged,’ says the chronicler. As
they only cried the more, their mouths were closed by force.
Nevertheless, the constables did this to no purpose, for the uproar was
too loud not to be heard. Many evangelicals, ‘when they perceived these
boors were coming,’ threw themselves out of bed, leaped over the walls
in their shirts, and made their escape. Sometimes ‘some good people’
came with all speed to warn their friends, who then escaped; and this
greatly increased the fury of the tyrants. The attorney-general,
inflamed with rage and hatred against the truth, kept up the hunt all
night with his men; and nothing could pacify his wrath but committing to
prison twenty-three of the townsmen, fathers and children, husbands and
wives, brothers and sisters, of various classes. He had them confined in
different places, giving orders that they should not be allowed to read,
to write, or to speak to any one, whether it were father, mother, or
wife. Besides those whom we have named, there were also seized
Antoinette van Roesmals, the chaplain Paul de Roovere, the parson van
Rillaert, the Sclercx, Schats, Vicart, Jerome Cloet, and others, who,
when thus torn away from their homes, were persuaded that nothing short
of their death would allay the rage of their enemies.
The honest townsmen of Louvain could not restrain their indignation.
‘What!’ said they, addressing the cruel du Fief, ‘thou art sending to
prison people who by their virtue gave a good example to the whole town!
Have they stirred up any sedition? Hast thou seen a single one of their
number with a bloody sword in his hand? How durst thou lay on innocent
men those unclean and sacrilegious hands with which thou hast pillaged
the holy places, and robbed the poor of their earnings? Will not these
houses into which thou dost make bold to enter for the purpose of
persecution fall on thee?‘[858]
[Sidenote: The Examinations.]
The examinations forthwith began. Latomus, a doctor of the university of
Louvain, famous for his controversy with Luther, the dean, Ruard Tapper,
of Enkhuysen, whom the pope six years before had nominated
inquisitor-general of the Netherlands, and others besides, betook
themselves every day to the prisons; and they went ‘as if they were
going to a combat, equipped and tricked out at all points against a body
of poor weak women. The younger prisoners modestly kept silence; but the
more experienced turned the arguments of the theologians against
themselves, so that the latter retreated in confusion.’
It was on the 20th of March, 1543, that the inquiry began. Catherine
Sclercx, wife of Jacques Rogiers, an apothecary, was brought up _pede
ligato_ on that day, on March 31, and on June 13. ‘What do you hold
about the invocation of saints?’ they said to her. ‘I am little
practised in discussion,’ replied Catherine, ‘but I will not hold any
thing except what Holy Scripture teaches. It is there said _we must
worship God only_ and _there is only one Mediator_. I have therefore
purposed in my own mind to worship and to invoke none but Him.’ ‘What
impudence!’ said the theologians; ‘thou art venturing, with hands full
of uncleanness, to present thyself before God. If the emperor came into
this town, wouldst thou not, before approaching him, appeal to Monsieur
de Granvella, in order that he might recommend thee to him?’ ‘But see,’
simply answered Catherine, ‘suppose the emperor were at a window and
called me with his own tongue, saying—“Woman, thou hast to do with me;
come up hither, I will grant thee what thou shalt ask for,” would you
still counsel me to wait until I had gained friends at court?’ This
noble woman then said, with a holy boldness—‘I have a heavenly emperor,
Jesus Christ, the redeemer of the world. He says aloud to all men, Come
unto me! It is not to one or two of you, gentlemen, our masters, that he
speaks this word. It is to all; and whosoever, feeling the burden of his
sins pressing upon his soul, hastens in tears to respond to the call of
God’s mercy, needs no other advocate, neither St. Peter nor St. Paul, to
procure him access to his prince.’ The judges in astonishment rose
without coming to any decision, contenting themselves with exclaiming,
as they went away, ‘A Lutheran.’ This was an argument which they found
unanswerable.[859]
‘Even the women mock at us,’ said the theologians; ‘let us put an end to
this trial as soon as possible, and let us begin with those of our own
order.’ They then gave orders to bring up the priest, Peter Rythove,
schoolmaster of Sainte-Gertrude. They were more afraid of him than of
any one, conscious that he knew them well and had the power of divulging
their frauds.[860] Word was brought to them that he had escaped. This
was an addition to their trouble. ‘Quick,’ they said; ‘let placards be
posted up that he may be arrested.’ He took good care not to make his
appearance, and they declared him to be an obstinate heretic. Then
flying to his house, like insatiable harpies,[861] they plundered him of
every thing that belonged to him. ‘O players!’ said honest men, ‘how
well you agree to perform your farces before the simple-minded people!
and especially never to return empty-handed to your homes!’
[Sidenote: Paul De Roovere.]
They now fell upon the poor priest, Paul de Roovere, and they were
determined to have him put to death with pomp and solemnity, and to
exhibit him as a public spectacle. Artisans set to work and erected a
platform in the great hall of the Augustines. On the day of the
exhibition a great crowd of townsmen and of students filled both the
hall and the adjacent streets. The procession advanced. At its head
there walked a small wan old man, thin, with a long white beard, and
almost wasted away with grief and exhaustion.[862] Truly, said the
spectators, this is the shadow of a man, a corpse already in a state of
decomposition. It was poor Paul surrounded by armed men. Behind them
came the dignitaries of the university, the heads of the convent, and
others of the clergy. These doctors, at once accusers and judges,
ascended the platform and took their seats in a circle, with Paul de
Roovere standing in the midst of them. There sat the chancellor,
Latomus, a great enemy to literary culture, who, when preaching one day
before Charles V., narrowly escaped being hissed by some lords of the
court.[863] By his side sat the dean and inquisitor, Ruard of Enkhuysen,
‘a man whose oratory was of the poorest kind, but whose cruelty was
extreme.’ Next to him was Del Campo a Zon, also an inquisitor, canon of
St. Peter’s, and rector for the occasion, who was called by some ‘the
devil incarnate,’ and there were several others. ‘Sergeants, armed at
all points, surrounded the platform, prepared to defend these brave
pillars of the Church.’ The rector, who was afterwards bishop of
Bois-le-Duc, rose, enjoined silence, and said with a loud
voice—‘Desirous of faithfully discharging our duty, which is to defend
the sheep against the furious assaults of wolves, to kill the latter and
to strangle them,[864] we present to you, as a rotten member of our
mystical body, which ought to be lopped and cut off, this man, in whose
house we have found a great number of Lutheran books, and who dares even
to say that to be saved it is enough to embrace the mercy of God offered
in the Gospel.’
Then, turning to the people, the rector, canon, and inquisitor
exclaimed—‘Beware, therefore, you who are here present, and let the
danger which threatens you, and the fear of losing your souls, restrain
you from despising the power of the Roman pontiffs. This wretch is
condemned to be degraded from the priesthood and delivered over to the
secular arm to undergo the punishment which he deserves.’
The rector was followed by Father Stryroy, prior of the Dominicans, a
vehement man, whose voice was a thunder-peal of audacity and impudence.
But some laughed at his storm of words, and others abhorred a course so
disgraceful. Many even talked of driving the orator and the judges from
their seats and of rescuing the priest Paul.[865] But no one was willing
to be captain and bell the cat. One glance from Paul would have
sufficed; but the poor priest, weakened in body as well as in mind,
remained motionless and silent, and thus disheartened his partisans. The
priests also had noticed the dejection of the old man. They determined
to take advantage of it; and, retiring into an adjoining hall, they
employed for the purpose of inducing him to recant vehement entreaties,
supplications, flattery, promises, and allurements. ‘The old man
resisted all.’ The inquisitors then, provoked, calling to remembrance
the tyrant of Agrigentum, who had his enemies burnt at a slow fire and
his friends in a copper bull, said to him—‘We will make you suffer more
grievous torture than any Phalaris ever inflicted.’ Paul trembled at
these words. He was led back to prison, and monks and theologians came
every day and talked to him about the cruel sufferings which were in
preparation for him.
[Sidenote: His End.]
Meanwhile the attorney-general was preparing for the trial of the
laymen. This lasted from March 21 to the end of April; but no sufficient
evidence was obtained. The judges now had the prisoners taken into the
great prison, where the rack was, and there they began that frightful
and marvellous process of which it has been said that it is perfectly
certain to ruin an innocent man who has a feeble constitution, and to
save a guilty man if he were born robust. This lasted fifteen days. The
torturers knew no pity for age, or sex, or infirmity. The poor women
were victimized (_géhennées_) and tormented as well as the men. The
piteous cries of these cruelly-tortured wretched ones were heard in the
streets of Louvain. Their voices, raised by grief to a higher pitch,
were borne to a distance. Inarticulate sounds, piercing words, repeated
exclamations, lamentations, weeping, mournful noises, broken sobs, and
dying voices spread terror everywhere. Throughout the town there was
nothing but sighs, tears, and lamentations from people of every class,
whose hearts were filled with grief.[866] Almost all were steadfast, but
one sad victim consoled the tyrants, as the chronicler calls them. They
had so terrified poor Paul that the wretched old man was seen ascending
the platform with trembling steps, and there he read a statement which
the theologians had prepared. He declared, with a voice scarcely
audible, ‘that he detested that religion which at the instigation of
Satan he had hitherto followed.’ Deep sighs and broken sobs every moment
interrupted him. Good men who heard him were touched with compassion at
the sight of this unfortunate victim. At the command of his masters, the
poor man took his books and cast them into the fire; while the doctors
and the judges, with an air of pride and triumph, insulted the Gospel of
God. The wretched man was placed in close confinement in the castle of
Vilvorde, was fed on bread and water only, and was not allowed to read
or to write, or to see any body. He was ‘like a dead body in a grave,
until at length he died there of exhaustion.’
It was now the turn of the other prisoners. Jan Vicart and Jan Schats
were taken to the town-hall, and there the attorney-general turned
towards them a cruel countenance and said—‘My friends, I am grieved at
your fate; but the devil has deceived you, and consequently you are
condemned to be burnt and reduced to ashes as men relapsed into
Lutheranism. If I were to act otherwise, I should not be Cæsar’s
friend.[867]
The whole city of Louvain was in a state of great excitement. Although
executions usually took place outside the town, the inquisitors had
determined that in this case the victims should suffer in the open space
before St. Peter’s Church, for the sake of terrifying the people. The
young Spaniard who relates these facts, and who was at this time on a
visit to Louvain, went to the spot at five o’clock in the morning. Many
workmen were already very busily engaged in enclosing a part of the
space, that no one might pass the barrier. They next set up in the
middle two crosses about the height of a man, and piled round them ‘a
great quantity of faggots and other wood.’ Afterwards, the
attorney-general and his attendants entered a house opposite to the
church, the windows of which looked out on the two crosses. All the town
companies had been ordered up ‘for daybreak,’ that the people might not
rescue the prisoners. The militiamen, who had escorted the magistrates,
encompassed the place, and showed by the expression of their faces that
they were there ‘by compulsion and with great reluctance.’ The two
prisoners at length appeared. There was first Jan Schats, now about
forty-three years old, whose principal crime was having had in his house
a German Bible, and read it, as well as the _Life of our Lord_, _the
Sinner’s Consolation_, the _Little Garden of the Soul_, _Emmaus_, and
other works bound together ‘in a leather cover.’ In addition to this, he
was accused of having visited those of his own creed who fell sick and
of having assisted them with his alms. By the side of Schats was Jan
Vicart, haberdasher, who was charged with the like offences.[868] These
two men, coming from rigorous confinement, and having suffered cruel
torture, were weak and almost half dead. Nevertheless, the bystanders
heard them lamenting their sins before God, and asserting that they
welcomed death, having confidence in the divine mercy.[869]
[Sidenote: Martyrdom.]
When their prayer was finished, the deathsman bound them to the two
stakes, placed a rope with a slip-knot round their necks, and then piled
faggots round them with straw and powder. At a signal from the
attorney-general, he tightened the rope to strangle them. The magistrate
then ‘displaying as much light-heartedness as if he had been named
emperor of the Romans,’ says an eye-witness, handed to the deathsman a
lighted torch, and in doing this he leaned forward so eagerly that he
narrowly missed falling from the window. The eyes of the multitude were
fastened on him, and they contemplated with astonishment, says the
chronicler, ‘his hideous face afire with rage, his fierce eyes, his
mouth which breathed out flames more terrible than those of the torch in
his hand. Many there were who uttered horrible imprecations against this
sanguinary monster.’[870] ‘Ere long the fire was so large that one might
have said the flames touched the clouds and would set them on fire. Some
jets of flame rose to such a height and made so much noise that it might
have been imagined loud voices were crying from heaven for vengeance.’
The next day it was the turn of the women. Two of them, both quite
elderly, who above all had steadfastly maintained the truth of the
Gospel, were condemned to the most cruel punishment, namely, to be
buried alive.[871]
One of these women was Antoinette van Roesmals, the friend of John
Alasco, of Hardenberg, and of Don Francisco de Enzinas, whose ancestors
had governed the state. She was now about sixty years of age, and was
full of faith and of good works. It was said in the town that her
kinsfolk, her friends, and even the bailiff, had offered a large sum of
money that she might be set at liberty, but in vain. She drew near to
the spot where she was to be laid alive in the ground. Gudule, her
beautiful daughter, in the flower of her age, who cherished the deepest
affection for her mother, would not be separated from her. ‘I will,’ she
said, ‘be a spectator of the sacrifice of my mother.’[872] It was
however agreed that she should not stand by the brink of the grave in
which she who had brought her into the world was to be buried alive, and
she consented to remain at a distance, if only she could see her mother.
Thus concealed in a place apart,[873] she saw the pious Antoinette led
to execution; she saw the grave prepared, and that her mother still
remained calm. Gudule was overwhelmed, silent and motionless. She shed
no tears; her whole life was in her gaze.[874] With fixed eye she
watched the progress of the dismal execution. But when she saw her
mother going down alive to the place of the dead, when the servants of
the executioners threw upon her some shovelfuls of earth and she began
to be covered with it, Gudule uttered a cry. From this moment she could
not refrain; her outcries were terrible. ‘O God!’ says an eye-witness,
‘with what lamentations, with what wailings she filled the air!‘[875]
Her tongue was at length loosed, she was no longer motionless. Reduced
to despair, she began to run about the streets of the town as if she had
lost her reason. Tears ran down from her eyes as from a fountain. She
plucked out her hair, she tore her face.[876] ‘The poor girl is still
living,’ says the witness who has left us the narrative of these events,
‘and I have good hope that she will never be forsaken of the everlasting
God, the Father of our deliverer, Jesus Christ, who is also the Father
of the orphan.’
We have been speaking of some humble Christians of Louvain; we must now
turn to their brethren at Brussels.
[Sidenote: Giles Tielmans.]
There had been signs of an awakening in this capital; and there were to
be found in it men who were truly imitators of Jesus Christ, a class
unhappily too small. One of the citizens, Giles Tielmans, a native of
Brussels, was not ‘of a rich family nor of great renown,’ but he had
acquired by his virtues a higher esteem, even on the part of the enemies
of pure doctrine. Giles had never wronged a single creature, and he had
always made it his aim to give pleasure to every body. He was now
thirty-three years of age, and no one had ever had a complaint against
him. If he encountered opposition he would give way. He would rather
relinquish his rights than quarrel about them, in order that he might in
this life maintain peace and charity.[877] This Christian man fulfilled,
both in the letter and in the spirit, the commandment of his master—‘If
any man will take thy coat, let him have thy cloak also.’ He had been
endowed by God with a good disposition, but ‘having begun to taste in
his youth the heavenly wisdom drawn from the sacred writings, this
natural goodness had improved to an incredible degree.’ His look was
sweet and modest, his deportment amiable, and every thing about him
revealed a soul holy and born for heaven, dwelling in a pure and chaste
tabernacle. He spent the greater part of his time in visiting the sick,
in relieving the poor, and in making peace between any of his neighbors
who might be at variance with each other. Tielmans used to say that it
was a disgraceful thing to pass one’s life in idleness. In order to
avoid this, to earn his living by his own labor, and to have something
to give to the poor, he had followed the trade of a cutler. He lived in
a very humble way, spending hardly any thing on himself, but
distributing among the needy the fruits of his toil, which God greatly
blessed. ‘He had thus won the love of the people.’ ‘All good men were
fond of talking with him; all listened to him, and all gave up their
property at his bidding.’[878] But if any one made him a present, ‘he
accepted it only for the purpose of relieving some poor person known to
him.’ He had at Brussels his baker, his shoemaker, his tailor, and his
apothecary. Of the first he took bread for the hungry; of the second
shoes for the barefooted; of the third garments to cover the naked in
winter; and of the fourth medicines to cure the sick. The physician he
paid out of his own purse.
His principal aim was to become well acquainted with the doctrines of
the Gospel. He therefore read the Scriptures diligently, and meditated
on them deeply. With so much fervor did he put forth all the energies of
his soul in prayer, that ‘oftentimes his friends found him on his knees,
praying and in a kind of rapture.’ He was a hard worker. He read all the
best books which were written on the doctrine of salvation, but
especially the Holy Scriptures; and when he explained the Christian
faith, it was with so much eloquence that people exclaimed—‘O pearl of
great price! why art thou still buried in darkness, whilst thou oughtest
to be kept in the sight and knowledge of all the world, esteemed and
prized by every one!‘[879]
[Sidenote: His Evangelical Zeal.]
In 1541, the epidemic raged again. Famine accompanied it. ‘The republic
was in great distress, and many poor people were in very great trouble.’
Tielmans sold his goods by auction, and they fetched a large sum. From
this time not a day passed but he went into the public institutions in
which the plague-stricken were treated. He gave them what they were in
want of; and served them with his own hands. He went to the inns where
strangers were entertained, and he removed the sick into his own house,
nursed and fed them. When they had recovered their health, he gave them
the means of pursuing their journey. One day he visited a poor woman who
was near her confinement. She had already five children who slept with
her every night. He immediately returned to his house, sent her his own
bed, the only one which remained in his possession, and slept himself on
straw.[880]
He was physician not only to the bodies of men, but also to their souls.
He came to the bedside of sick persons and taught them to know the
Saviour. With great power he said to them—‘Trust not in your own works.
The mercy of God alone can save you, and this is to be laid hold of by
faith in Christ.[881] So vast was the extent of sin that divine justice
could be appeased only by the sacrifice of the Son of God. At the same
time, the love of God towards man was so unspeakable that He sent his
Son into the world, from the hidden place of his abode,[882] to cleanse
men from sin by his own blood and to make us inheritors of his heavenly
kingdom.’ So energetic were the words of Tielmans that many of those
‘who lay upon their death beds attacked by the pestilence, in distress
and consternation and a prey to all the horrors which follow in its
train, seemed to recover life; and, casting away all pharisaical
opinions and all trust in their own deservings, embraced the doctrine of
the Saviour, and passed joyfully to their heavenly home.’ Those who
escaped the contagion, having been brought by the Word to the knowledge
of the truth, were scattered about in the neighboring towns, and sowed
there what they had learnt of it; go that by these means ‘religion had
been restored in its purity in the whole of Brabant.’ Such was the life
of Giles Tielmans. In him faith and works were admirably united. This
case is one of the fruits of the Reformation which it is worth while to
know.
Persecution had not been slow in causing agitation and terror among the
faithful of Louvain. Unfortunately, not all of those who ‘said that they
had tasted of the Gospel and had laid hold of the true religion’ were
able to persevere. There were several such at Louvain, and especially
among those who belonged to the higher classes, who no longer showed any
sign of true Christianity, and who, though they did not believe in
Romish doctrines, yet gave out that they did, and became thorough
hypocrites. They broke off intercourse with those who in their opinion
might compromise them. If they had in their households any pious men,
they expelled them, bidding them provide for themselves elsewhere. ‘Ah!’
said one of those who were thus turned into the street, ‘I marvel at the
thoughtlessness of men. Is there any greater virtue, any ornament of
life more excellent than to maintain true religion, with high courage
and unconquerable spirit, even to one’s last breath? It gives me great
pain to see people, who were not among the worst, lose heart at the
first breathing of the storm, and like cowards put off the profession of
piety.’
The same blow fell upon Brussels. The parish of La Chapelle had for its
parson a fanatical priest named William Guéné, ‘a wicked rake,’ says the
chronicler. The incumbent of this benefice was William de Hoowere,
bishop _in partibus_ of Phœnicia, suffragan vicar of the bishop of
Tournay. But as other offices prevented his giving his personal services
in the parish, he had entrusted the administration to Guéné, with the
title of vice-pastor. This Guéné, ‘who ought rather to be called a wolf,
considering his wicked tricks and his abominable actions,’ was
continually making outcries in public, and particularly against the
pious Giles Tielmans, a man so rich in good works. He put questions to
him in his sermons, ‘swore and called upon heaven and earth to witness
that, if this man were not taken out of the way and put to death, the
whole country would in a little while be of his opinion.’ Guéné did not
confine himself to saying these things in his church; but went to the
attorney-general and formally accused ‘this innocent and excellent man.’
Peter du Fief did not wait to be told a second time. He seized Tielmans
and put him in prison. Matters did not stop here.[883] More than three
hundred suspected persons, inhabitants of the towns of Brabant and
Flanders, had been pointed out. Their names had been enrolled and their
persons were to be seized. Many of them resided at Brussels. There were
Henry van Hasselt, Jacob Vrilleman, Jan Droeshout, Gabriel the sculptor,
Christian Broyaerts and his wife, a niece of Antoinette van Roesmals,
and others, besides ‘a great number of the most respectable people of
the city.’ But the tragical scene at Louvain had raised the alarm. Many
took flight and remained in concealment in secret places. Some were,
however, arrested.
[Sidenote: Justus Van Ousberghen.]
There was one man more of note, and this was Justus van Ousberghen, next
to Tielmans the most devoted evangelist. No one had more zeal, no one
more courage, as a preacher of the Gospel. There was, however, one thing
of which he was afraid, and this was the stake. Heretics were condemned
to the flames; and the thought of being burnt, perhaps burnt over a slow
fire, caused him unheard of uneasiness and pain. And assuredly, many
might be uneasy at less. Nevertheless, he lost no opportunity of
proclaiming the Gospel. He was not at Louvain at the time of the
persecutions of March; but was then in an abbey about two leagues from
the town, where he was at work. The poor man had sore trials to bear.
His wife was a scold. Some time before the scenes of March 1543, Justus
had been absent from Louvain three or four months, no doubt for the
purpose of making known the Gospel at the same time that he was working
for his livelihood.
When he returned home, his wife, ‘instead of bidding him welcome,
received him in a shameful manner.’ ‘People have been to arrest you,’
she said to him; and she refused to admit him into their dwelling.
Justus, notwithstanding his zeal, was a man of feeble character, and his
wife ruled over him. He did not enter his house. Turned into the street,
and exhausted with fatigue, he questioned with himself whither he should
go. The heavens were black and the rain was falling in torrents. He
betook himself to the bachelor of arts, Gosseau, and requested him to
give him a bed for a single night. ‘I promise you I will go away
to-morrow morning,’ he said. The Gosseaus with pleasure complied with
his request. ‘You are quite chilly from the rain,’ they said; ‘first
warm yourself by the fire.’ The poor man dried himself, and then took a
little food. ‘God be praised,’ said he, ‘for all my miseries, and for
giving me strength to rise above them!’
Shortly after the terrible night of March, Justus, as we have mentioned,
was at an abbey two leagues from Louvain, where he was employed ‘in
trimming with fur the frocks of the monks,’ for he was a furrier by
trade. He had established himself at the entrance to the monastery, and
was doing his work without a thought of impending danger. Suddenly the
_drossard_ of Brabant made his appearance, with a great number of
archers. The _drossard_ was an officer of justice whose business was to
punish the excesses committed by vagrants. As the pious Van Ousberghen
used to travel from place to place to get work, the magistrate had
affected to consider him not as a heretic—this would have been honoring
him too much—but as a vagrant. ‘At once, all the archers,’ he related,
‘fell upon me as a troop of ravenous wolves fall upon a sheep; and they
instantly seized my skins and trade implements.’ The wolves, however,
did not content themselves with the skins, they seized the man and
carefully searched him. Ousberghen made no resistance. They found on him
a New Testament and some sermons of Luther ‘which he always carried in
his bosom.’ The archers were delighted with these discoveries. ‘Here,’
they said, pointing to the books, ‘here is enough to convict him.’ They
hastily bound him and took him to Brussels; and there he was confined in
the house of the _drossard_. The monks who had assembled were amazed at
the scene of violence which was presented at their own gates. They had
had no suspicion that a man who decorated their garments kept such
heretical books in his pocket.[884]
[Sidenote: His Trial.]
The next day two councillors of the chancery of Brabant appeared to
conduct his examination. ‘We shall have you put to the torture,’ they
said, ‘if you do not speak the truth.’ ‘I will speak it till death,’ he
answered, ‘and I shall need no torture to compel me.’ They asked him
what he thought of the pope, of purgatory, of the mass, of indulgences.
‘I believe,’ said he, ‘that salvation is given of God of his perfectly
free goodness;’ and he confirmed his faith by the words of Holy
Scripture. ‘Why,’ resumed the commissioners, ‘have you these books about
you, since it is not your calling to read?’ ‘It is my calling to read
what is necessary for my salvation,’ he replied. ‘The redemption
announced in the New Testament belongs to me no less than to the great
doctors or even the great princes of the world.’ ‘But these books are
heretical.’ ‘I hold them to be Christian and salutary.’ The Reformation
was and always will be the most powerful means of diffusing instruction.
Rome said to the people—‘It is not your business to read.’ And the
people, instructed by the Reformation, answered, ‘It is our business to
read that which saves us.’
The examination continued: ‘Discover to us your accomplices, heretical
like yourself,’ said the councillors. ‘I know no other heretics,’
replied Justus, ‘but the persecutors of the heavenly doctrine.’ This
word ‘persecutors’ suddenly enraged the commissioners. ‘You blaspheme,’
they exclaimed. ‘If you do not acknowledge that you lie, we will make
you undergo such torments as man has never yet suffered; we will tear
you limb from limb with a hot iron.’[885] ‘The _drossard_ saw with his
own eyes the monks of the convent where I was seized and which I
attended,’replied he; ‘if you wish to have them taken, do so at your own
good pleasure.’
[Sidenote: His Fears.]
Thereupon Justus was conducted to the prison of la Vrunte, into a lofty
chamber, railed in and barred, in which he was left for nine weeks
without seeing any one. Terrible were the assaults which he suffered in
his own soul. Left without any human support, and no longer feeling in
himself the same energy, the snares of the enemy, the remembrance of his
sins, the image of a cruel death by burning, astounded and made him
tremble. ‘Pray with me,’ he said to another prisoner; ‘entreat that the
mercy of God may keep me in the article of death, and that I may happily
reach the end of this Christian warfare.’ New strength was indeed given
him.
On the day of the departure of Charles the Fifth, who had stayed some
time at Brussels, Justus was brought before the court (January 3, 1544).
The commissioners read to him the confession made before them. ‘Do you
acknowledge it?’ they said. He answered that he did. ‘But,’ he added,
‘you have suppressed the testimonies of the Holy Scriptures by which I
confirmed it.’ ‘Since you acknowledge this confession,’ said the
councillors, ‘we summon you to retract it; otherwise you will be
tormented with unheard of pains, and burnt alive.’ ‘You may make use of
force,’ he answered, ‘but you can not compel me to this iniquity.’ ‘We
give you till to-morrow to consider it.’ As he was re-entering his
prison, tied and bound, Giles Tielmans approached him and said
affectionately, ‘What is the matter?’ ‘The Lord calls me,’ he answered.
Giles was going to speak further with him, but the archers roughly
thrust him back, saying—‘Off with thee; thou hast deserved to die as
much as he! Thy turn will come.’ ‘Think also of your own,’ said Giles.
On the following day, Justus was again brought before the judges. ‘Hast
thou changed thy opinion?’ they said to him. ‘If thou dost not retract
every thing thou wilt perish.’ ‘Never will I deny, on earth and before
men, the eternal truth of God, because I desire that it should bear
witness for me before the Father in heaven.’ Thereupon they condemned
him to be burnt alive. ‘Thy body shall be consumed,’ they said, ‘and
entirely reduced to ashes.’ This was enough to strike terror into the
heart of the poor man who had such a dread of fire; but falling upon his
knees he thanked God, and then his judges, for putting an end to the
miseries of his life. Terrified, however, at the thought of the flames,
he turned to his judges and said—‘Give permission for me to be
beheaded.’ ‘The sentence is passed,’ they said, ‘and can be revoked only
by the queen.’[886]
Giles Tielmans did not leave Ousberghen; consolations flowed from his
lips in accents so divine, with such energy, sweetness, and piety, that
every word went to the heart of the sufferer, and drew tears from his
eyes.’ Unfortunately, a great number of monks and priests kept coming,
and continually interrupted these delightful conversations. ‘Do not
trouble yourselves so much,’ said Justus to the monks; ‘but if you have
power to do any thing for me, only entreat of the judges that I may be
beheaded.’ His horror of burning did not abate. ‘We will see,’ they said
craftily, ‘whether it can be done.’ They then urged him to receive at
their hands the sacrament of the body and blood of the Saviour. ‘I long
ago received it for the first time spiritually,’ he said; ‘it is
engraved in living letters on the tables of my heart. Nevertheless, I do
not despise the symbols, and if you are willing to give me them under
the two kinds of bread and wine, according to the institution of the
Saviour, I will receive them.’ The monks consented. It was a large
concession on their part. The relator, however, who was in the prison,
is unable to assert that the Supper was thus given to him.[887]
On the eve of the execution, almost all the household went up to him. He
was very feeble, and suffered much from thirst. He turned, however, to
his friends and said—‘My death is at hand; and since all our sins were
nailed to the cross of our Saviour, I am ready to seal with my blood his
heavenly doctrine.’ They all wept, and falling on their knees, by the
mouth of Giles they commended Justus to the Lord. When the prayer was
finished, Ousberghen rose and said—‘I perceive within me a great light,
which makes me rejoice with joy unspeakable. I have now no other desire
than to die and be with Christ.’
[Sidenote: Martyrdom Of Tielmans.]
Two of the councillors had gone to the governess of the Netherlands, and
had requested her to substitute beheading for the stake. Queen Mary
instantly replied—‘I will do so; it is a very small favor where death is
not remitted.’ Was there any connection between this favor and the
consent of Justus to receive the Supper, at the hands of the priests,
provided it were administered under both kinds? We sometimes see even
strong minds shaken by some innate aversion, such as that which Justus
experienced at the thought of fire.
On January 7, early in the morning, the archers arrived. Justus van
Ousberghen was conducted from the prison to the market-place, and there
forthwith his head was cut off. While this was going on the whole prison
was in tears.[888]
The death of Justus was not enough. The priest of La Chapelle, William
Guéné and his band, were determined to have also that of Giles.
On January 22, the sergeants, who were to take him into a prison where
torture was applied, came for him. It was before daylight, at five
o’clock in the morning, because they feared the people. When Giles heard
that they were asking for him, he came; and seeing them all shivering
(it was very cold weather), he made them go into the kitchen and lighted
a fire for them. While they were warming themselves, he ran to his
friend, the Spaniard, who was in bed. ‘The sergeants are come,’ he said
‘to take me away to death or to some crueller fate.’
Tielmans was put to the torture; and on January 25th he was condemned to
be burnt. On the 27th, six hundred men were put under arms and escorted
him to the place. A vast pile was erected there. ‘There is no need of so
much wood,’ said he, ‘for burning this poor body. You would have done
better to show pity for the poor people who are dying of cold in this
town, and to distribute to them what there is to spare.’ They intended
to strangle him first, to mitigate the punishment. ‘No,’ said he, to
those who wished to grant him this kindness, ‘do not take the trouble. I
am not afraid of the fire, I will willingly endure it for the glory of
the Lord.’ He was prepared to face the sufferings which Justus had so
much dreaded. He prayed, and entered a little hut of wood and straw
constructed on the pile. Then, taking off his shoes, he said—‘There is
no need for these to be burnt; give them to some poor man.’ He knelt
down, and, the executioners having set fire to the pile, the
kind-hearted man was consumed and his ashes were flung into the river.
The people openly murmured against the monks, and from this time began
to hate them. When they came to the houses of the townsmen to ask alms,
the people used to answer—‘Giles was burnt for having distributed all
his property among the poor; as for us, we will give you nothing, for
fear of being likewise put to death.’[889]
END OF THE SEVENTH VOLUME.
Footnote 836:
‘Sibi pretio oblato ea explicari curarint quæ dicta erant.’—Gerdesius,
_Ann._ iii. p. 126. Schoock, _De Canon. Ultraj._ p. 461.
Footnote 837:
‘Frequenter noctis aliquam partem huic curæ decidens.’—Erasmus,
_Epist._ lib. xxviii. 23.
Footnote 838:
Gerdesius, _Ann._ iii. p. 123.
Footnote 839:
_Memoirs of Enzinas_, i. p. 10. The Latin text of the memoirs of this
Spanish Christian, and the French translation of the 16th century,
were published by M. Campan, of the Belgian Historical Society, at
Brussels in 1862. ‘Pietatis ardore flagrabat ... quæ virtutis ac
pietatis velut exemplar semper fuisset habita.’—_Ibid._ i. pp. 104,
106.
Footnote 840:
‘Antonia de præcipua pene familia urbis, cujus hospitio aliquando usus
est D. Johannes a Lasco.’—_Ibid._ p. 102.
Footnote 841:
_Memoirs of Enzinas_, translation of 1558, p. 105.
Footnote 842:
‘Filiam perelegantem, forma liberali atque ætate integra.’—_Ibid._ p.
112.
Footnote 843:
_Memoirs of Enzinas_, translation of 1558, p. 611.
Footnote 844:
_Ibid._ p. 463.
Footnote 845:
This passage and others are taken from the _pièces justificatives_ of
the trial of the townsmen of Louvain. See _Memoirs of Enzinas_, i. pp.
466, 467, &c.
Footnote 846:
_Memoirs of Enzinas_, p. 466.
Footnote 847:
Campan. _Ibid._ p. 469.
Footnote 848:
_Ibid._ pp. 539, 541.
Footnote 849:
_Memoirs of Enzinas_, pp. 37, 619.
Footnote 850:
_Memoirs of Enzinas_, pièces justificatives, i. pp. 324, 325, 331,
409, 419, &c.
Footnote 851:
_Memoirs of Enzinas_, pièces justificatives, i. p. 361.
Footnote 852:
_Ibid._ pp. 379, 381.
Footnote 853:
_Memoirs of Enzinas_, i. p. 487.
Footnote 854:
_Ibid._ ii. p. 249.
Footnote 855:
_Memoirs of Enzinas_, i. pp. 319, 323, 391.
Footnote 856:
_Memoirs of Enzinas_, i. p. 14. The author of these _Memoirs_ arrived
at Louvain the day after this occurrence.
Footnote 857:
Crespin, _Actes des Martyrs_, iii. p. 125. _Memoirs of Enzinas_, i. p.
15.
Footnote 858:
_Memoirs of Enzinas_, iii. pp. 17, 18, 26. A general inquiry into the
administration of Peter du Fief was afterwards instituted, and in the
year following the inquiry he was no longer in office.
Footnote 859:
Crespin, _Actes des Martyrs_, book iii. p. 125. Gerdesius, _Ann._ iii.
p. 144. _Memoirs of Enzinas_, i. pp. 23-33.
Footnote 860:
‘Eorum fraudes et scelerata consilia præ ceteris propalare
poterat.’—_Memoirs of Enzinas_, i. p. 38.
Footnote 861:
‘Tanquam insatiabiles Harpyiæ.’—_Ibid._
Footnote 862:
‘Homo perpusillus, barba prominenti, exsanguis, macilentus, dolore
atque inedia pæne consumptus.’—_Memoirs of Enzinas_, i. p. 40.
Footnote 863:
‘Riderent ac tantum non exsibilarent.’—_Ibid._ i. p. 46.
Footnote 864:
‘Lupos occidere ac trucidare debemus.’—_Ibid._ i. p. 58.
Footnote 865:
‘Vidi et audivi multos in eo loco. . . qui deposuissent.’—_Memoirs of
Enzinas_, i. p. 68.
Footnote 866:
‘Clamores tristissimi eorum qui in carcere cruciabantur, universam
urbem personabant, ut nemo quantumvis barbarum aut efferatum natura
finxisset, sine ingenti animi dolore, miserandos illos gemitus et
clamores audire potuisset.’—_Memoirs of Enzinas_, i. p. 74.
Footnote 867:
‘Et si vos dimitterem, non essem amicus Cæsaris.’—_Ibid._ i. p. 82.
Footnote 868:
_Memoirs of Enzinas_, pièces justificatives. Interrogatoires, i. pp.
337-383.
Footnote 869:
_Ibid._ i. p. 93.
Footnote 870:
‘Plures fuerant qui horrendis imprecationibus sanguinariam belluam
diabolis devoverunt.’—_Ibid._ p. 94.
Footnote 871:
Crespin, _Actes des Martyrs_, book iii. p. 126.
Footnote 872:
‘Spectatrix materni sacrificii.’—_Ibid._ p. 112.
Footnote 873:
The old French translation is not accurate in the whole of this
passage. The Latin _Memoirs_ say, ‘In aliquo fortassis angulo, aut
certe in domo proxima.’—_Ibid._
Footnote 874:
‘Ita maternam fortunam in anima filiæ fixam insedisse.’—_Ibid._
Footnote 875:
‘Deum immortalem! quibus lamentationibus, quibus ejulatibus aera
complebat.’—_Actes des Martyrs_, book iii. p. 126.
Footnote 876:
‘Ferebatur velut insana per urbem; magna vis lacrymarum ex oculis
tanquam ex fonte promanabat; capillos ac faciem dilaniabat.’—_Ibid._
Footnote 877:
_Memoirs of Enzinas_, ii. p. 23.
Footnote 878:
‘Suarum facultatum Ægidium dominum faciebant.’—_Memoirs of Enzinas_,
ii. p. 26.
Footnote 879:
_Memoirs of Enzinas_, ii. p. 31.
Footnote 880:
‘Unum lectum quem sibi tantum domi reliquum fecerat, ad fœminam
parturientem misit, et ipse deinceps in stramine jacuit.’—_Memoirs of
Enzinas_, ii p. 32.
Footnote 881:
‘Una misericordia Dei (quæ fide in Christum apprehenditur) servari nos
oportere.’—_Ibid._
Footnote 882:
‘Ex arcana sua sede.’—_Ibid._
Footnote 883:
_Memoirs of Enzinas_, ii. pp. 35, 37.
Footnote 884:
_Memoirs of Enzinas_, ii. pp. 252-255.
Footnote 885:
_Memoirs of Enzinas_, ii. pp. 256, 264.
Footnote 886:
Crespin, _Actes des Martyrs_, p. 121. _Memoirs of Enzinas_, ii. pp.
261, 273.
Footnote 887:
_Memoirs of Enzinas_, ii. pp. 280, 281, 285.
Footnote 888:
‘Nec in tota domo quisquam fuit qui a lacrimis potuerit
temperare.’—_Memoirs of Enzinas_, ii. p. 296.
Footnote 889:
_Memoirs of Enzinas_, ii. pp. 330-353. _Ibid._ pièces justificatives.
Letter to Queen Mary, p. 517.
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● Transcriber’s Notes:
○ Missing or obscured punctuation was silently corrected.
○ Typographical errors were silently corrected.
○ Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only
when a predominant form was found in this book.
○ Text that was in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).
○ Footnotes have been moved to follow the chapters in which they are
referenced.