DIPLOMATISTS, BACKSLIDERS, MARTYRS.
(1531.)
[Sidenote: CHARLES SLANDERS THE PROTESTANTS.]
The royal trio was now broken up. Margaret, knowing well that her mother
had always influenced her brother in favour of popery, hoped to profit
by an event that had cost her so many tears, and immediately attempted
to incline her brother to the side of the Reform. But there were other
influences at work at court: the Sorbonne, the bishops, Montmorency, and
even the emperor endeavoured to set Francis against the evangelicals.
Charles V. especially desired to take advantage of the alliance which
drew him closer to France, in order to turn its sovereign against
Luther. His envoy, Noircarmes, had very positive instructions on this
point. One day, when this ambassador had gone to present his homage to
the king, they had a long conversation together, and Noircarmes gave
utterance to all the usual calumnies against the Reformation. Francis
did not know what answer to make, but fixed the diplomatist's
accusations in his memory, with the intention of repeating them to his
sister. He paid her a visit, while still in a state of excitement.
'Madame,' said he angrily, 'do you know that your friends the
protestants preach the community of goods, the nullity of the marriage
tie, and the subversion of thrones? Noircarmes says that if I do not
destroy Lutheranism, my crown will be in danger.'[189] To justify the
innocent was one of the tasks which the Queen of Navarre had imposed
upon herself. 'Sire,' she said to the king, 'the reformers are
righteous, learned, peaceful men, who have no other love than that of
truth, no other aim than the glory of God, and no other thought than to
banish superstition and to correct morals.' The Queen of Navarre was so
gracious, so true, so eloquent, that the king left her completely
changed—at least for the day.[190] But it was not long before perfidious
insinuations again roused his anger.
[Sidenote: REINHOLD AND THE COURTIERS.]
Margaret, either by her own hand or through her agents, informed the
protestants of Germany of the charges brought against them by Charles's
ambassador, and called upon them to contradict Noircarmes. This they did
immediately. One of them, Matthew Reinhold, a man devoted to the Gospel
and a clever diplomatist, arrived in Paris about the middle of April
1531, and having been received by the king, attended by his lords and
his bishops, he handed in a letter from the Elector of Saxony, the
Landgrave of Hesse, and their allies. Francis opened it and appeared to
read it with interest. 'Sire,' wrote the princes, 'a few monks (Tetzel
and his friends) having through avarice hawked their indulgences about
the country to the dishonour of Christ and the ruin of souls,[191]
certain just and wise men have reproved them; the sun has risen upon the
Church, and has brought to light a world of scandals and errors. Help
us, Sire, and use such means that these disputes may be settled, not by
force of arms, but by a lawful judgment, which shall do no violence to
the consciences of christians.'[192]
While Francis was reading this letter, the lords and prelates of his
court eyed the Lutheran from head to foot. They went up to him and asked
the strangest questions. 'Is it true,' said a bishop, 'that the women in
your country have several husbands?'—'All nonsense!' replied the German
envoy. To other questions he returned similar answers; the eagerness of
the speakers increased, and the conversation was becoming animated, when
the king, who had finished the letter, declared that he thought it very
reasonable, and, to the great surprise of the court, smiled graciously
upon Reinhold.[193] A few days later (21st April) he gave the envoy an
answer: 'In order to heal the sores of the christian republic,' he said,
'there must be a council; provided the Holy Ghost, who is the lord of
truth, has the chief place in it.' Then he added: 'Do not fear the
calumnies of your enemies.'[194] The first step was taken.
The grand idea of the counsellors of Francis I., and of the king
himself, was, at this time, to substitute for the old policy of France a
new and more independent policy, which would protect it against the
encroachments of the papacy. Melanchthon was charmed at the king's
letter. 'The Frenchman answered us in the most amiable manner,' he
said.[195] A council guided by the Spirit of God was precisely what the
German protestants demanded: they thought themselves on the point of
coming to an understanding with the King of France. This hope took
possession of Margaret also, and of the powerful party in the royal
council who thought, like her, that the union of France, Germany, and
England would lead to an internal and universal reform of christendom.
The king, urged to form an alliance with the German princes, resolved to
send an ambassador on his part, and selected for this mission one
Gervais Waim. The choice was an unlucky one: Waim, a German by birth,
but long resident in Paris,[196] desired that everything in Germany
should remain as he had left it. A blind partisan of the ancient state
of things, he regarded any change as an outrage towards the German
nation, and was full of prejudices against the Reformation. Accordingly,
he had hardly arrived at Wittemberg (this was in the spring of 1531),
when he sought every opportunity of gratifying his blind hatred. He met
with a grand reception; banquets and entertainments were given in his
honour. One day there was a large party, at which Luther was present
with his friends and many evangelical christians, who were desirous of
meeting the envoy of the King of France. The latter, instead of
conciliating their minds, grew warm, and exclaimed: 'You have neither
church nor magistrate nor marriage; every man does what he pleases, and
all is confusion as among the brutes. The king my master knows it very
well.'[197] On hearing this extravagant assertion, the company opened
their eyes. Some got angry, others laughed, many despaired of ever
coming to an understanding with Francis I. Melanchthon changed his
opinion entirely. 'This man,' he said, 'is a great enemy of our
cause.... The kings of the earth think of nothing but their own
interest; and if Christ does not provide for the safety of the Church,
all is lost.'[198] He never said a truer thing. Waim soon found that he
had not been a good diplomatist, and that he ought not to have shocked
the protestant sentiment; he therefore confined himself to his duty, and
his official communications were of more value than his private
conversations.[199] We shall see presently the important steps taken by
France towards an alliance with evangelical Germany.
[Sidenote: IMPRUDENCE OF THE FRENCH DEPUTY.]
Margaret, believing that the triumph of the good cause was not far off,
determined to move forward a little. She had struck out of her
prayer-book all the prayers addressed to the Virgin and to the saints.
This she laid before the king's confessor, William Petit, Bishop of
Senlis, a courtier, and far from evangelical, though abounding in
complaisance for the sister of his master. 'Look here!' she said; 'I
have cut out all the most superstitious portions of this
book.'[200]—'Admirable!' exclaimed the courtier; 'I should desire no
other.' The queen took the prelate at his word: 'Translate it into
French,' she said, 'and I will have it printed with your name.' The
courtier-bishop did not dare withdraw; he translated the book, the queen
approved of it, and it appeared under the title of _Heures de la Royne
Marguerite_ ('Queen Margaret's Prayer-book'). The Faculty of Divinity
was angry about it, but they restrained themselves, not so much because
it was the queen's prayer-book, as because the translator was a bishop
and his Majesty's confessor.
[Sidenote: LECOQ'S SERMON BEFORE THE KING.]
Nor did the Queen of Navarre stop here. There was at that time in Paris
a curé, named Lecoq, whose preaching drew great crowds to St. Eustache.
Certain ladies of the court, who affected piety, never missed one of his
sermons. 'What eloquence!' said they, speaking of Lecoq, one day when
there was a reception at St. Germain; 'what a striking voice! what a
flow of words! what boldness of thought! what fervent piety!'—'Your fine
orator,' said the king, who was listening to them, 'is no doubt a
Lutheran in disguise!'—'Not at all, Sire,' said one of the ladies; 'he
often declaims against Luther, and says that we must not separate from
the Church.' Margaret asked her brother to judge for himself. 'I will
go,' said Francis. The curé was informed that on the following Sunday
the king and all his court would come to hear his sermon. The priest was
charmed at the information. He was a man of talent, and had received
evangelical impressions; only they were not deep, and the breath of
favour might easily turn him from the right way. As this breath was just
now blowing in the direction of the Gospel, he entered with all his
heart into this conspiracy of the ladies, and began to prepare a
discourse adapted, as he thought, to introduce the new light into the
king's mind.
When Sunday came, all the carriages of the court drew up before the
church of St. Eustache, which the king entered, followed by Du Bellay,
Bishop of Paris, and his attendant lords and ladies. The crowd was
immense. The preacher went up into the pulpit, and everybody prepared to
listen. At first the king observed nothing remarkable; but gradually the
sermon grew warmer, and words full of life were heard. 'The end of all
visible things,' said Lecoq, 'is to lead us to invisible things. The
bread which refreshes our body tells us that Jesus Christ is the life of
our soul. Seated at the right hand of God, Jesus lives by his Holy
Spirit in the hearts of his disciples. _Quæ sursum sunt quærite_, says
St. Paul, _ubi Christus est in dextera Dei sedens_. Yes, _seek those
things which are above_! Do not confine yourselves during mass to what
is upon the altar; raise yourselves by faith to heaven, there to find
the Son of God. After he has consecrated the elements, does not the
priest cry out to the people: _Sursum corda!_ lift up your hearts! These
words signify: Here is the bread and here is the wine, but Jesus is in
heaven. For this reason, Sire,' continued Lecoq, boldly turning to the
king, 'if you wish to have Jesus Christ, do not look for him in the
visible elements; soar to heaven on the wings of faith. _It is by
believing in Jesus Christ that we eat his flesh_, says St. Augustin. If
it were true that Christ must be touched with the hands and devoured by
the teeth,[201] we should not say _sursum_, upwards! but _deorsum_,
downwards! Sire, it is to heaven that I invite you. Hear the voice of
the Lord: _sursum corda_, Sire, _sursum corda!_'[202] And the sonorous
voice of the priest filled the whole church with these words, which he
repeated with a tone of the sincerest conviction. All the congregation
was moved, and even Francis admired the eloquence of the preacher. 'What
do you think of it?' he asked Du Bellay as they were leaving the
church.—'He may be right,' answered the Bishop of Paris, who was not
opposed to a moderate reform, and who was married.—'I have a great mind
to see this priest again,' said the king.—'Nothing can be easier,'
replied Du Bellay.
[Sidenote: FALL OF LECOQ.]
Precautions, however, were taken that this interview should be concealed
from everybody. The curé disguised himself and was introduced secretly
into the king's private cabinet.[203] 'Leave us to ourselves,' said
Francis to the bishop.—'Monsieur le curé,' continued he, 'have the
goodness to explain what you said about the sacrament of the altar.'
Lecoq showed that a spiritual union with Christ could alone be of use to
the soul. 'Indeed!' said Francis; 'you raise strange scruples in my
mind.'[204] This encouraged the priest, who, charmed with his success,
brought forward other articles of faith.[205] His zeal spoilt
everything; it was too much for the king, who began to think that the
priest might be a heretic after all, and ordered him to be examined by a
Romish doctor. 'He is an arch-heretic,' said the inquisitor, after the
examination. 'With your Majesty's permission I will keep him locked up.'
The king, who did not mean to go so far, ordered Lecoq 'to be set at
liberty, and to be admitted to prove his assertions by the testimony of
Holy Scripture.'
Upon this the Cardinals of Lorraine and Tournon, 'awakened by the
crowing of the cock,'[206] arranged a conference. On one side was the
suspected priest, on the other some of the most learned doctors, and the
two cardinals presided as arbiters of the discussion. Tournon was one of
the ablest men of this period, and a most implacable enemy of the
Reformation; in later years he was the persecutor of the Waldenses, and
the introducer of the Jesuits into France. The discussion began.
'Whoever thought,' said the doctors of the Sorbonne to Lecoq, 'that
these words _sursum corda_ mean that the bread remains bread? No;
they signify that your heart should soar to heaven in order that the
Lord may descend upon the altar.' Lecoq showed that the Spirit alone
gives life; he spoke of Scripture; but Tournon, who had been the means
of making more than one pope, and had himself received votes for his own
election to the papacy, exclaimed in a style that the popes are fond of
using: 'The Church has spoken; submit to her decrees. If you reject the
authority of the Church, you sail without a compass, driven by the winds
to your destruction. Delay not!... Save yourself! Down with the yards
and furl the sails, lest your vessel strike upon the rocks of error, and
you suffer an eternal shipwreck.'[207] The cardinals and doctors
surrounded Lecoq and pressed him on every side. Here a theologian fell
upon him with his elaborate scholastic proofs; there an abbé shouted in
his ears; and the cardinals threw the weight of their dignity into the
scales. The curé of St. Eustache was tossed to and fro in indecision. He
had some small taste for the Gospel, but he loved the world and its
honours more. They frightened and soothed him by turns, and at last he
retracted what he had preached. Lecoq had none of the qualities of a
martyr: he was rather one of those weak minds who furnished backsliders
to the primitive Church.
Happily there were in France firmer christians than he. While, in the
world of politics, diplomatists were crossing and recrossing the Rhine;
while, in the world of Roman-catholicism, the most eloquent men were
becoming faithless to their convictions: there were christian men in the
evangelical world, among those whose faith had laid hold of redemption,
who sacrificed their lives that they might remain faithful to the Lord
who had redeemed them. It was a season when the most contrary movements
were going on.
Toulouse, in olden times the sanctuary of Gallic paganism, was at this
period filled with images, relics, and 'other instruments of Romish
idolatry.' The religion of the people was a religion of the eye and of
the ear, of the hands and of the knees—in short, a religion of
externals; while within, the conscience, the will, and the understanding
slept a deep sleep. The parliament, surnamed 'the bloody,' was the
docile instrument of the fanaticism of the priests. They said to their
officers: 'Keep an eye upon the heretics. If any man does not lift his
cap before an image, he is a heretic. If any man, when he hears the
_Ave Maria_ bell, does not bend the knee, he is a heretic. If any
man takes pleasure in the ancient languages and polite learning, he is a
heretic.... Do not delay to inform against such persons.... The
parliament will condemn them, and the stake shall rid us of them.'[208]
A celebrated Italian had left his country and settled at Agen. Julius
Cesar della Scala, better known by the name of Scaliger, belonged to one
of the oldest families of his native country, and on account of the
universality of his knowledge, many persons considered him the greatest
man that had ever appeared in the world. Scaliger did not embrace the
reformed faith, as his son did, but he imported a love of learning,
particularly of Greek, to the banks of the Garonne.
[Sidenote: CATURCE AT TOULOUSE.]
The licentiate Jean de Caturce, a professor of laws in the university,
and a native of Limoux, having learnt Greek, procured a New Testament
and studied it. Being a man of large understanding, of facile eloquence,
and above all of thoughtful soul, he found Christ the Saviour, Christ
the Lord, Christ the life eternal, and adored him. Erelong Christ
transformed him, and he became a new man. Then the Pandects lost their
charm, and he discovered in the Holy Scriptures a divine life and light
which enraptured him. He meditated on them day and night. He was
consumed by an ardent desire to visit his birthplace and preach the
Saviour whom he loved and who dwelt in his heart. Accordingly he set out
for Limoux, which is not far from Toulouse, and on All Saints' day,
1531, delivered 'an exhortation' there. He resolved to return at the
Epiphany, for every year on that day there was a great concourse of
people for the festival, and he wished to take advantage of it by openly
proclaiming Jesus Christ.
[Sidenote: THE TWELFTH-NIGHT SUPPER.]
Everything had been prepared for the festival.[209] On the eve of
Epiphany there was usually a grand supper, at which, according to
custom, the king of the feast was proclaimed, after which there was
shouting and joking, singing and dancing. Caturce was determined to take
part in the festival, but in such a way that it should not pass off in
the usual manner. When the services of the day in honour of the three
kings of the East were over, the company sat down to table: they drank
the wine of the south, and at last the cake was brought in. One of the
guests found the bean, the gaiety increased, and they were about to
celebrate the new royalty by the ordinary toast: _the king drinks!_
when Caturce stood up. 'There is only one king,' he said, 'and Jesus
Christ is he. It is not enough for his name to flit through our
brains—he must dwell in our hearts. He who has Christ in him wants for
nothing. Instead then of shouting _the king drinks_, let us say
this night: _May Christ, the true king, reign in all our
hearts!_'[210]
The professor of Toulouse was much esteemed in his native town, and many
of his acquaintances already loved the Gospel. The lips that were ready
to shout _the king drinks_ were dumb, and many sympathised, at least by
their silence, with the new 'toast' which he proposed to them. Caturce
continued: 'My friends, I propose that after supper, instead of loose
talk, dances, and revelry, each of us shall bring forward in his turn
one passage of Holy Scripture.' The proposal was accepted, and the noisy
supper was changed into an orderly christian assembly. First one man
repeated some passage that had struck him, then another did the same;
but Caturce, says the chronicle, 'entered deeper into the matter than
the rest of the company,' contending that Jesus Christ ought to sit on
the throne of our hearts. The professor returned to the university.
This Twelfth-night supper produced so great a sensation, that a report
was made of it at Toulouse. The officers of justice apprehended the
licentiate in the midst of his books and his lessons, and brought him
before the court. 'Your worships,' he said, 'I am willing to maintain
what I have at heart, but let my opponents be learned men with their
books, who will prove what they advance. I should wish each point to be
decided without wandering talk.' The discussion began; but the most
learned theologians were opposed to him in vain, for the licentiate, who
had the Divine Word within him, answered 'promptly, pertinently, and
with much power, quoting immediately the passages of Scripture which
best served his purpose,' says the chronicle. The doctors were silenced,
and the professor was taken back to prison.[211]
The judges were greatly embarrassed. One of them visited the
_heretic_ in his dungeon, to see if he could not be shaken. 'Master
Caturce,' said he, 'we offer to set you at full liberty, on condition
that you will first retract only three points, in a lecture which you
will give in the schools.' The chronicler does not tell us what these
three points were. The licentiate's friends entreated him to consent,
and for a moment he hesitated, only to regain his firmness immediately
after. 'It is a snare of the Evil one,' he replied. Notwithstanding
this, his friends laid a form of recantation before him, and when he had
rejected it, they brought him another still more skilfully drawn up. But
'the Lord strengthened him so that he thrust all these papers away from
him.' His friends withdrew in dismay. He was declared a heretic,
condemned to be burnt alive, and taken to the square of St. Etienne.
Here an immense crowd had assembled, especially of students of the
university who were anxious to witness the degradation of so esteemed a
professor. The 'mystery' lasted three hours, and they were three hours
of triumph for the Word of God. Never had Caturce spoken with greater
freedom. In answer to everything that was said, he brought some passage
of Scripture 'very pertinent to reprove the stupidity of his judges
before the scholars.' His academical robes were taken off, the costume
of a merry-andrew was put on him, and then another scene began.
[Sidenote: THE DOMINICAN SILENCED.]
A Dominican monk, wearing a white robe and scapulary, with a black cloak
and pointed cap, made his way through the crowd, and ascended a little
wooden pulpit which had been set up in the middle of the square. This by
no means learned individual assumed an important air, for he had been
commissioned to deliver what was called 'the sermon of the catholic
faith.' In a voice that was heard all over the square, he read his text:
_The Spirit speaketh expressly, that in the latter times some shall
depart from the faith, giving heed to seducing spirits and doctrines of
devils_.[212] The monks were delighted with a text which appeared so
suitable; but Caturce, who almost knew his Testament by heart,
perceiving that, according to their custom of distorting Scripture, he
had only taken a fragment (_lopin_) of the passage, cried out with
a clear voice: 'Read on.' The Dominican, who felt alarmed, stopped
short, upon which Caturce himself completed the passage: _Forbidding
to marry, and commanding to abstain from meats, which God hath created
to be received with thanksgiving of them which believe_. The monks
were confounded; the students and other friends of the licentiate
smiled. 'We know them,' continued the energetic professor, 'these
deceivers of the people, who, instead of the doctrine of faith, feed
them with trash. In God's service there is no question of fish or of
flesh, of black or of grey, of Wednesday or Friday.... It is nothing but
foolish superstition which requires celibacy and abstaining from meats.
Such are not the commandments of God.' The Dominican in his pulpit
listened with astonishment; the prisoner was preaching in the midst of
the officers of justice, and the students heard him 'with great favour.'
The poor Dominican, ashamed of his folly, left his sermon unpreached.
After this the martyr was led back to the court, where sentence of death
was pronounced upon him. Caturce surveyed his judges with indignation,
and, as he left the tribunal, exclaimed in Latin: 'Thou seat of
iniquity! Thou court of injustice!' He was now led to the scaffold, and
at the stake continued exhorting the people to know Jesus Christ. 'It is
impossible to calculate the great fruit wrought by his death,' says the
chronicle, 'especially among the students then at the university of
Toulouse,' that is to say, in the year 1532.[213]
Certain preachers, however, who had taught the new doctrine, backslided
deplorably at this time, and checked the progress of the Word in the
south; among them were the prothonotary of Armagnac, the cordelier Des
Noces, as well as his companion the youthful Melchior Flavin, 'a furious
hypocrite,' as Beza calls him. One of those who had received in their
hearts the fire that warmed the energetic Caturce, held firm to the
truth, even in the presence of the stake: he was a grey friar named
Marcii. Having performed 'wonders' by his preaching in Rouergue, he was
taken to Toulouse, and there sealed with his blood the doctrines he had
so faithfully proclaimed.[214]
[Sidenote: TWO MODES OF REFORMATION.]
We must soon turn to that external reformation imagined by some of the
king's advisers, under the inspiration of the Queen of Navarre, and by
certain German protestants who, under the influence of motives partly
religious, partly political, proposed to reform Christendom by means of
a council, without doing away with the Romish episcopate. But we must
first return to that humble and powerful teacher, the noble
representative of a scriptural and living reformation, who, while urging
the necessity of a spiritual unity, set in the foremost rank the
imprescriptible rights of truth.
[Footnote 189: Seckendorf, pp. 1170, 1171.]
[Footnote 190: 'Fratris iras pro viribus moderavit.'—Bezæ _Icones_.]
[Footnote 191: 'Propter quæstum, cum contumelia Christi et cum periculo
animarum.'—_Corp. Ref._ ii. p. 472.]
[Footnote 192: Sleidan, ch. viii.]
[Footnote 193: 'Ihm eine gnädige Mine gemacht.'—Seckendorf, p. 118.]
[Footnote 194: Sleidan, ch. viii. p. 232.]
[Footnote 195: 'Gallus rescripsit humanissime.'—_Corp. Ref._ ii. p. 503.]
[Footnote 196: Du Bellay, _Mémoires_, iv. p. 167.]
[Footnote 197: 'Sondern gienge alles unter einander wie das Viehe.—
Schelhorn, p. 289.]
[Footnote 198: 'Illi reges sua agunt negotia.'—_Corp. Ref._ ii. p. 518.]
[Footnote 199: Du Bellay, _Mém._ p. 167.]
[Footnote 200: Bèze, _Hist. Eccl._ i. p. 8.]
[Footnote 201: 'Corpus et sanguinem Domini, in veritate, manibus
sacerdotum tractari, frangi, et fidelium dentibus atteri.' (The formula
which Pope Nicholas exacted of Bérenger.)—Lanfranc, _De Euchar._ cap. v.]
[Footnote 202: 'Speciebus illis nequaquam adhærendum, sed fidei alis ad
cœlos evolandum esse. Illud subinde repetens: _Sursum corda! sursum
corda!_'—Flor. Rémond, _Hist. de l'Hérésie_, ii. p. 225. See also
Maimbourg, _Calvinisme_, pp. 22-24.]
[Footnote 203: 'Bellaii opera, Gallus hic in secretiorem locum
vocatus.'-Flor. Rémond, ii. p. 225.]
[Footnote 204: 'Regi scrupulos non leves injecit.'—Ibid.]
[Footnote 205: 'Idem de aliis quoque fidei articulis.'—Ibid.]
[Footnote 206: A play upon the priest's name, both in French and in
Latin. 'Lotharingus et Turnonius cardinales Galli hujus cantu
excitati.'—Flor. Rémond, ii. p. 225.]
[Footnote 207: 'Antennas dimittite ac vela colligite, ne ad errorum
scopulos illisa navi æternæ salutis naufragium faciatis.'—Flor. Rémond,
_Hist. de l'Hérésie_, ii. p. 225.]
[Footnote 208: Théod. de Bèze, _Hist. Eccl._ i. p. 7.]
[Footnote 209: This _jour des Rois_ corresponds with our _Twelfth
day_.]
[Footnote 210: Théod. de Bèze, _Hist. Eccl._ i. p. 7. Crespin,
_Martyrologue_, fol. 106.]
[Footnote 211: Théod. de Bèze, _Hist. Eccl._ i. p. 7. Crespin,
_Martyrologue_, fol. 106.]
[Footnote 212: 1 Timothy iv. 1.]
[Footnote 213: Théod. de Bèze, _Hist. Eccl._ i. p. 7. Crespin,
_Martyrologue_, fol. 106.]
[Footnote 214: Ibid.]