TRIUMPH AND MARTYRDOM.
(WINTER 1533-34.)
[Sidenote: THE GOSPEL IN THE PARIS CHURCHES.]
The consequences of the meeting at Marseilles were to be felt at Paris.
After Calvin's flight, the Queen of Navarre, as we have seen, had
succeeded in calming the storm; and yet the evangelical cause had never
been nearer a violent persecution. The prisons were soon to be filled;
the fires of martyrdom were soon to be kindled. During the year 1533
_Lutheran_ discourses had greatly multiplied in the churches. 'Many
notable persons,' says the chronicler, 'were at that time preaching in
the city of Paris.'[551] The simplicity, wisdom, and animation of their
language had moved all who heard them. The churches were filled, not
with formal auditors, but with men who received the glad-tidings with
great joy. 'Drunkards had become sober; libertines had become chaste;
the fruits which proceeded from the preaching of the Gospel had
astonished the enemies of light and truth.'
The doctors of the Sorbonne did not wait for the king's orders to attack
the evangelicals; his interview with the pope, and the news of the bull
brought from Rome, had filled the catholic camp with joy. 'What!' they
exclaimed, 'the king is uniting with the pope at Marseilles, and in
Paris the churches are opened to heresy! ... let us make haste and close
them.'
In the meanwhile Du Bellay, the Bishop of Paris, who had made such a
fine Latin speech to Clement VII., and who went at heart half-way with
his brother, arrived in the capital. The leaders of the Roman party
immediately surrounded him, urged him, and demanded the realisation of
all the hopes which they had entertained from the interview at
Marseilles. The bishop was embarrassed, for he knew that his brother and
the king were just then occupied with a very different matter. Yet it
was the desire of Francis that, for the moment, they should act in
conformity with his apparent and not with his real action. The bishop
gave way. The pious Roussel, the energetic Courault, the temporising
Berthaud, and others besides, were forbidden to preach, and one morning
the worshippers found the church doors shut.[552]
[Sidenote: PRIVATE MEETINGS.]
Great was their sorrow and agitation. Many went to Roussel and Courault,
and loudly expressed their regret and their wishes. The ministers took
courage, and 'turned their preaching into private lectures.' Little
meetings were formed in various houses in the city. At first none but
members of the family were present; but it seemed that Christ, according
to his promise, was in the midst of them, and erelong friends and
neighbours were admitted. The ministers set forth the promises of Holy
Scripture, and the worshippers exclaimed: 'We receive more blessings now
than before.'
There were others besides Parisian faces which Courault, Roussel, and
their friends saw on the humble benches around their little table: there
were persons from many provinces of France, and even from the
neighbouring countries. Among them was Master Pointet, a native of
Menton, near Annecy, in Savoy, 'who practised the art of surgery in the
city of Paris.' He had been brought to a knowledge of the Gospel in a
singular way. 'Monks and priests,' says the chronicler, 'used to come to
him to be cured of the diseases peculiar to those who substitute an
impure celibacy for the holy institution of marriage.'[553] Pointet,
observing that godliness was not to be found among the priests, sought
for it in the Scriptures; and, having discovered it there, began to
remonstrate seriously with those unhappy men. 'These punishments,' he
told them, 'proceed from your accursed celibacy: they are your wages,
and you would do much better to take a wife.' Pointet, while reading
these severe lessons, loved to go and learn in the lowly assemblies held
by the humble ministers of the Word of God, and no one listened with
more attention to the preaching of Roussel and Courault.
The Sorbonnists, having heard of these conventicles, declared 'that they
disliked _these lectures_ still more than the sermons.' In fact, if the
preaching in the churches had been a loud appeal, the Divine Word in
these small meetings spoke nearer to men's hearts, enlightening them and
making them fast in Jesus Christ; and accordingly the conversions
increased in number. The lieutenant-criminal once more took the field:
he posted his agents at the corners of the more suspected streets, with
orders to watch the Lutherans and ferret them out. These spies
discovered that on certain days and hours many suspicious-looking
persons, most of them poor, were in the habit of frequenting certain
houses. Morin and his officers set to work immediately: they made the
round of these conventicles, seizing the pastors and dispersing the
flocks. 'We are deprived of everything,' said the worshippers; 'we
remain without teaching and exhortation. Alas! poor sheep without
shepherds, shall we not go astray and be lost?' Then with a sudden
impulse they exclaimed: 'Since our guides are taken away from us here,
let us seek them elsewhere!' Many French evangelicals fled into foreign
countries.
While the poor reformed[554] who remained in Paris were thus forsaken
and sorrowful, the Sorbonne loudly demanded the return of Beda and the
other exiles. The theologians canvassed the most influential members of
the parliament, and besieged Cardinal Duprat. The king and the pope had
just met solemnly at Marseilles; one of the Medici had just entered the
family of the Valois; a royal letter, despatched from Lyons, ordered
proceedings to be taken against the heretics: could they leave the
champions of the papacy in disgrace? The demand was granted, and the
impetuous Beda returned in triumph to the capital with his friends. That
wicked little fairy Catherine had, unconsciously, and by her mere
presence, restored him to liberty.
[Sidenote: FRESH EFFORTS OF THE SORBONNE.]
The wrath and fanaticism of Beda, excited by exile, knew no bounds. The
repression of obscure _preachers_ did not satisfy him; he determined to
renew the attack he had formerly made upon the learned. 'I accuse the
king's readers in the university of Paris,' he said to the parliament.
These were the celebrated professors Danès, Paul Paradis, Guidacieri,
and Vatable, learned philologists, esteemed by Francis and honoured over
all literary Europe. 'Their interpretations of the text of Scripture,'
continued Beda, 'throw discredit on the Vulgate, and propagate the
errors of Luther. I demand that they be forbidden to comment on the Holy
Scriptures.'[555]
Beda did not stand alone. Le Picard had returned from exile with his
master, and the Sorbonne, wishing to give him a striking mark of their
esteem, had conferred on him the degree of doctor of divinity. Beda and
Le Picard took counsel together with some other priests. War was
resolved upon, the legions were mustered, the plan of the campaign drawn
up, and the various battle-fields allotted among the combatants. They
took possession of the pulpits from which the preachers of the Reform
had been expelled, and loud voices were heard everywhere giving
utterance to violent harangues against 'the Lutherans.' Beda, Le Picard,
and their followers denounced the heretics as enemies of the altar and
the throne. In the Gospel, the germ of every liberty, they saw the cause
of every disorder. 'It is not enough to put the Lutheran evangelists in
prison,' said these forerunners of the preachers of the League; 'we must
go a step further, and burn them.'[556]
The arrests were begun immediately; but early in the year 1534 the
burning pile was declared to be the best answer to heresy. The
parliament of Paris published an edict, according to which whoever was
convicted of Lutheranism on the testimony of two witnesses, should be
burnt forthwith.[557] That was the surest way: the dead never return.
Beda immediately demanded that the decree should be applied to the four
evangelists: Courault, Berthaud, Roussel, and one of their friends.
Notwithstanding his moderation and his concessions, Roussel particularly
excited the syndic's anger. Was he not Margaret's chaplain? The terror
began to spread. Whilst Francis at Bar-le-Duc was endeavouring to please
the most decided of the protestants, the evangelicals of Paris, alarmed
by the inquiries of the police, shut themselves up in their humble
dwellings. 'Really,' they said, 'this is not much unlike the Spanish
inquisition.'[558] The Sorbonne dared not, however, burn Roussel and his
friends without the consent of the king.
[Sidenote: THREE HUNDRED EVANGELICAL PRISONERS.]
In the meanwhile the ultramontane party formed the design of catching
all the Lutherans in Paris in one cast of the net. Morin set to work: he
urged on his hounds; his sergeants entered the houses, went down into
the cellars and up into the garrets, taking away, here the husband from
the wife; there, the father from the children; and in another place, the
son from the mother. Some of these poor creatures hid themselves, others
escaped by the roofs; but the chase was successful upon the whole. The
alguazils of the Sorbonne lodged about _three hundred prisoners_ in the
Conciergerie.[559] When this news spread, with its concomitants of
terror and distress, the flight recommenced on a larger scale: some were
stopped on the road, but many succeeded in crossing the frontier. Among
their number was a christian courtier, Maurus Musæus, a gentleman of the
king's chamber, who took refuge at Basle, whence he wrote describing his
numerous perplexities to Bucer.[560]
All this was done by the Sorbonne and parliament, as the king had not
yet spoken out. At last he returned to the capital, and everybody
thought he would be eager to fulfil the promises he had made the pope;
but, on the contrary, he hesitated and affected to be scrupulous. The
evil spirit that he had received from Clement VII. under the form of a
Medici, was too young to have any influence over him. Besides, he was
thinking much more just then of his alliance with the protestants of
Germany than of his union with the pope, and the attacks made against
his professors in the university annoyed him.
Beda was not discouraged: he got some persons, who had access to the
king, to beg that Roussel and his friends might be burnt. But how could
that prince send the Lutherans of France to the stake at the very time
he was seeking an alliance with the Lutherans of Germany? 'Nobody is
condemned in France,' he said, 'without being tried. Beda wishes to have
Roussel and his friends burnt; very well! let him first go to the
Conciergerie and reduce them to silence.'[561] This was not what Beda
wanted: he knew that it was easier to burn the chaplain than to refute
him. But the king compelled him to go to the prison; and there the
impetuous Beda and the meek Roussel stood face to face. The disputation
began in the presence of witnesses. The prisoner brought forward, with
much simplicity, the Scriptures of God; the syndic of the Sorbonne
replied with scholastic quibbles and ridiculous trifling.[562] His own
friends were embarrassed; everybody saw his ignorance; Beda left the
prison overwhelmed with shame, and Roussel was not burnt.[563]
[Sidenote: THE KING'S IRRITATION.]
While Beda and Roussel were disputing in the Conciergerie, a different
scene was passing at the Louvre. A friend of letters, belonging to the
royal household, knowing the king's susceptibility, placed a little book
elegantly bound on a table near which the king was accustomed to sit.
Francis approached, took up the book heedlessly, and looked at it. He
was greatly surprised on reading the title: _Remonstrance addressed to
the King of France by the three doctors of Paris, banished and
relegated, praying to be recalled from their exile_. It was a work
published by Beda before his return to Paris, and had been carefully
concealed from the monarch. 'Ho! ho!' said he, 'this book is addressed
to me!' He opened and read, and great was his anger on seeing how he was
insulted and slandered.... 'Francis I. regards neither pope nor Medici:
in his eyes, the chief infallibility is always his own.' 'Send those
wretches to prison,' he exclaimed; and immediately Beda, Le Picard, and
Le Clerq were shut up in the bishop's prison on a charge of high
treason.[564]
And now the chiefs of both causes were in confinement: Gerard Roussel,
Courault, and Berthaud on one side; Beda, Le Picard, and Le Clerq on the
other. Would any one dare affirm that the King of France did not hold
the balance even between the two schools? Who shall be released? who
shall remain a prisoner? was now the question. It would have been better
to set them all at large; but neither Francis nor his age had attained
to religious liberty. Contrary winds agitated that prince, and drove him
by turns towards Rome and towards Wittemberg. One or other of them,
however, must prevail. Margaret, believing the time to be critical,
displayed indefatigable activity. She pleaded the cause of her friends
to the king and to his ministers. Still mistaken, or seeming to be
mistaken, as regards Montmorency, she begged this treacherous friend to
save the very persons whose destruction he had sworn. 'Dear nephew,' she
wrote to him, 'they are just now completing the proceedings against
Master Gerard, and I hope the king will find him worthy of something
better than the stake, and that he has never held any opinion deserving
such punishment, or savouring of heresy. I have known him these five
years, and, believe me, if I had seen anything doubtful in him, I should
not so long have put up with such a pagan.'[565] The king could not
resist his sister's earnest solicitations and the desire of making
friends among the protestants of Germany. In the month of March 1534 he
published an ordinance vindicating the evangelical preachers from the
calumnies of the theologians, and setting them at liberty.[566]
Surprising thing! Roussel, Courault, and Berthaud at liberty; Beda, Le
Picard, and Le Clerq in prison! The champions of heresy triumph, and the
champions of the Church are in chains! And this, too, after the king's
return from Marseilles (the interview at Bar-le-Duc was not known at
Paris), and four months after the marriage of Henry of France with the
pope's niece!... Where are the promises made to Clement VII.? Both the
city and the Sorbonne were deeply excited by this measure.[567] The
greater the hopes aroused by the union with the papacy, the greater the
fears caused by the king's conduct towards its most intrepid defenders.
Would Francis I. become a Henry VIII.? Would Roman catholicism be ruined
in France? The priests were afraid—many of them even despaired.
The evangelicals, on the contrary, were delighted. The Word of God was
about to triumph, they thought, not only in Paris, but also throughout
France. Surprising news indeed came from Lyons, where an invisible
preacher kept the whole population in suspense.
[Sidenote: ALEXANDER AT GENEVA.]
The friar De la Croix, whom we have already mentioned, having abandoned
Paris, his convent, his cowl, and his monkish title, had reached Geneva
under the name of Alexander. Cordially welcomed by Farel and Froment, he
had been instructed by their care in the knowledge of the truth. His
transformation had been complete. Christ had become to him 'the sun of
righteousness; he had a burning zeal to know him, and great boldness in
confessing him. Incontinent, he showed himself resolute, and resisted
all gainsayers.' Accordingly the Genevan magistracy, which was under the
influence of the priests, had condemned him to death as a heretic; the
sentence had, however, been commuted, 'for fear of the King of France,'
who would not suffer a Frenchman, even if heretical, to be maltreated,
and Alexander was simply turned out of the city. When on the high-road
beyond the gates, and near the Mint, he stopped and preached to the
people who had followed him. Such was the power of his language that it
inspired respect in all around him. 'Nobody could stop him,' says
Froment, 'so strongly did his zeal impel him to win people to the
Lord.'[568]
Alexander first went to Berne with Froment, and then, retracing his
steps, seriously reflected whether he ought not to return into France.
He did not deceive himself: persecution, imprisonment, death, awaited
him there. Then ought he not rather, like so many others, to preach the
Gospel in Switzerland? But France had so much need of the light and
grace of God.... should he abandon her? To preach Christ to his
countrymen, Alexander was ready to bear all manner of evil, and even
death. One single passion swallowed up all others. 'O my Saviour! thou
hast given thy life for me; I desire to give mine for thee!' He crossed
the frontier; and, learning that Bresse and Maconnais (Saône-et-Loire),
where Michael d'Aranda had preached Christ in 1524, were without
evangelists, he began to proclaim the forgiveness of the Gospel to the
simple and warm-hearted people of that district, among whom fanaticism
had so many adherents. He did not mind this: wandering along the banks
of the Bienne, the Ain, the Seille, and the Saône, he entered the
cottages of the poor peasants, and courageously scattered the seed of
the Gospel.[569] A rumour of his doings reached Lyons, where certain
pious goldsmiths, always ready to make sacrifices for their faith,
invited Alexander to come and preach in their city.
[Sidenote: HIS WORK AT LYONS.]
It was a wider field than the plains of Bresse. Alexander departed,
arrived at Lyons, and entered the goldsmiths' shops. He conversed with
them, and made the acquaintance of several _poor men of Lyons_, who were
rich in faith; they edified one another, but this did not satisfy him.
The living faith by which he was animated gave him an indefatigable
activity. He was prompt in his decisions, full of spirit in his
addresses, ingenious in his plans. He began to preach from house to
house; next 'he got a number of people together here and there, and
preached before them, to the great advancement of the Word.' Opposition
soon began to show itself, and Alexander exclaimed: 'Oh that Lyons were
a free city like Geneva!'[570] Those who desired to hear the Word grew
more thirsty every day; they went to Alexander, and conversed with him;
they dragged him to their houses, but the evangelist could not supply
all their wants. He wrote to Farel, asking for help from Geneva, but
none came; the persecution was believed to be so fierce at Lyons, that
nobody dared expose himself to it. Alexander continued, therefore, to
preach alone, sometimes in by-streets, and sometimes in an upper
chamber. The priests and their creatures, always on the watch,
endeavoured to seize him, but the evangelist had hardly finished his
sermon when the faithful, who loved him devotedly, surrounded him,
carried him away, and conducted him to some hiding-place. But Alexander
did not remain there long: wistfully putting out his head, and looking
round the house, to see that there was no one on the watch, he came
forth to go and preach at the other extremity of the city. He had hardly
finished when he was carried away again, and the believers took him to
some new retreat, 'hiding him from one house to another,' says the
chronicler, 'so that he could not be found.'[571] The evangelist was
everywhere and nowhere. When the priests were looking after him in some
suburb in the south, he was preaching in the north, on the heights which
overlook the city. He put himself boldly in the van, he proclaimed the
Gospel loudly, and yet he was invisible.
Alexander did more than this: he even visited the prisons. He heard one
day that two men, well known in Geneva, who had come to Lyons on
business, had been thrown into the bishop's dungeons on the information
of the Genevan priests: they were the energetic Baudichon de la
Maison-Neuve, and his friend Cologny.[572] The gates opened for
Alexander: he entered, and that mysterious evangelist, who baffled the
police of Lyons, was inside the episcopal prison. If one of the agents
who are in search of him should recognise him, the gates will never open
again for him. But Alexander felt no uneasiness; he spoke to the two
Genevans, and exhorted them; he even went and consoled other brethren
imprisoned for the Gospel, and then left the dungeons, no man laying a
hand on him. The priests and their agents, bursting with vexation at
seeing the futility of all their efforts, met and lamented with one
another. 'There is a Lutheran,' they said, 'who preaches and disturbs
the people, collecting assemblies here and there in the city, whom we
must catch, for he will spoil all the world, as everybody is running
after him; and yet we cannot find him, or know who he is.'[573] They
increased their exertions, but all was useless. Never had preacher in so
extraordinary a manner escaped so many snares. At last they began to say
that the unknown preacher must be possessed of satanic powers, by means
of which he passed invisible through the police, and no one suspected
his presence.
[Sidenote: MARGARET AND ROUSSEL.]
Thus the Gospel was proclaimed in the first and in the second city of
France. The Sorbonne and the catholic party had been intimidated by the
king, and the Easter festival of 1534, which was approaching, might give
the evangelicals of Paris a striking opportunity of proclaiming their
faith. This was what the Queen of Navarre desired. She had passed some
time at Alençon, and also at Argentan, not far from Caen, with her
sister-in-law, Catherine d'Albret, abbess of the convent of the Holy
Trinity; at length she had returned to Paris. The priests dared not name
her, but they made certain allusions to her in their sermons which their
hearers very well understood. These things were reported to Margaret,
who cared neither to pacify nor to punish her accusers, and answered
them only by endeavouring still more to advance the cause of piety in
France. The little conventicles only half pleased her: she wanted the
evangelical doctrine to enter the kingdom by the churches, and not by
the 'upper chambers.' She would have desired for France a reformation
similar to that of England, which, while giving it the Word of God,
preserved its archbishops and bishops, its cathedrals, its liturgy, and
its grandeur. Queen of France, she would have been its Elizabeth; but
doubtless with more grace. Her ambition was to install the Gospel at
Notre Dame. She paid a visit to the king; she spoke to the bishop ...
Roussel shall preach there. He was not a Farel in boldness, but Margaret
encouraged him; besides, the idea of preaching the Gospel to the people
of Paris in that old cathedral was pleasing to him. He determined,
therefore, to comply with the queen's wishes.
The report of Margaret's intentions had hardly become known, when the
canons were in commotion. How scandalous! What! shall these
evangelicals, of whom they wished to purge France, assemble in the
cathedral?... A disciple of Luther ... in the temple ennobled by so many
holy bishops!... Finding themselves betrayed by the king, the priests
resolved to turn to the people. These fanatics did not scruple to become
mob-leaders; they traversed the city and the suburbs, entered the shops,
distributed little handbills, and stuck up placards: under the
excitement of this mission the oldest Sorbonnists regained all the
activity of youth. 'We must resist these scandalous meetings at any
cost,' they said. 'Let the people crowd before the gates of Notre Dame,
and hinder the evangelicals from entering; or, if they do not succeed,
let them fill the cathedral, and prevent Roussel from ascending the
pulpit, and drown his heretical voice by the shouts of the believers.'
When the day came, a great movement took place among the citizens of
Paris. An immense crowd hastened from all the neighbouring quarters, who
surrounded Notre Dame and filled the interior of the church. The
Lutherans could not get in, and Roussel was forced to give up his
sermon.[574]
A favourable wind seemed generally to be breathing over the Reformation:
its enemies were still in prison and its friends at liberty; Francis
appeared to be more than ever in harmony with his sister and with the
protestants of Germany; and an evangelical orator was authorised to
preach at Notre Dame: a violent hurricane, however, suddenly burst upon
the metropolis. A pious and active christian was there to lose his life,
and Paris was to witness at the same time—a triumph and a martyrdom.
[Sidenote: ALEXANDER AT LYONS.]
One day, a few weeks after Easter, a man loaded with chains entered the
capital: he was escorted by archers, all of whom showed him much
respect. They took him to the Conciergerie. It was Alexander Canus,
known among the Dominicans by the name of Father Laurent de la Croix. At
Lyons, as at Paris, Easter had been the time appointed by the
evangelicals for boldly raising their banner. The goldsmiths, who were
to Alexander what the Queen of Navarre was to Roussel, were no longer
satisfied with preachings in secret. Every preparation was made for a
great assembly; the locality was settled; pious christians went through
the streets from house to house and gave notice of the time and place.
Many were attracted by the desire of hearing a doctrine that was so much
talked about, and on Easter-day the ex-dominican preached before a large
audience.[575] Was it in a church, in some hall, or in the open air? The
chronicler does not say. Alexander moved his hearers deeply, and it
might have been said that Christ rose again that Easter morn in Lyons,
where he had so long lain in the sepulchre. All were not, however,
equally friendly; some cast sinister glances. Alexander was no longer
invisible: the spies in the assembly saw him, heard him, studied his
physiognomy, took note of his _blasphemies_, and hurried off to report
them to their superiors.[576]
While the police were listening to the reports and taking their
measures, there were voices of joy and deliverance in many a humble
dwelling. A divine call had been heard, and many were resolved to obey
it. Alexander, who had belonged to the order of _Preachers_, combined
the gift of eloquence with the sincerest piety. Accordingly, his hearers
requested him to preach again the second day of Easter. The meeting took
place on Monday, and was more numerous than the day before. All eyes
were fixed on the evangelist, all ears were attentive, all faces were
beaming with joy; here and there, however, a few countenances of evil
omen might be seen: they were the agents charged to seize the mysterious
preacher. The assembly heard a most touching discourse; but just when
Alexander's friends desired, as usual, to surround him and get him away,
the officers of justice, more expeditious this time, came forward, laid
their hands upon him, and took him to prison. He was brought before the
tribunal and condemned to death. This cruel sentence distressed all the
evangelicals, who urged him to appeal; he did appeal, which had the
effect of causing him to be transferred to Paris. 'That was not done
without great mystery,' says Froment, 'and without the great providence
of God.'[577] People said to one another that Paul, having appealed to
the emperor, won over a great nation at Rome; and they asked whether
Alexander might not do the same at Paris. The evangelist departed under
the escort of a captain and his company.
The captain was a worthy man: he rode beside Alexander, and they soon
entered into conversation. The officer questioned him, and the
ex-dominican explained to him the cause of his arrest. The soldier
listened with astonishment; he took an interest in the story, and by
degrees the words of the pious prisoner entered into his heart. He heard
God's call and awoke; he experienced a few moments of struggle and
doubt, but erelong the assurance of faith prevailed. 'The captain was
converted,' says Froment, 'while taking him to Paris.' Alexander did not
stop at this; he spoke to each of the guards, and some of them also were
won over to the Gospel. The first evening they halted at an inn, and the
prisoner found means to address a few good words to the servants and the
heads of the household. This was repeated every day. People came to see
the strange captive, they entered into conversation with him, and he
answered every question. He employed in the service of the Gospel all
the skill that he possessed in discussion. 'He was learned in the
doctrine of the sophists,' says a contemporary, 'having profited well
and studied long at Paris with his companions (the Dominicans).' Now and
then the people went and fetched the priest or orator of the village to
dispute with him; but they were easily reduced to silence. Many of the
hearers were enlightened and touched, and some were converted. They
said, as they left the inn: 'Really we have never seen a man answer and
confound his adversaries better by Holy Scripture.'[578] The crowd
increased from town to town. At last Alexander arrived in Paris:
'Wonderful thing!' remarks the chronicler, 'he was more useful at the
inns and on the road than he had ever been before.'[579]
[Sidenote: A PRISONER IN PARIS.]
This remarkable prisoner was soon talked of in many quarters of Paris.
The case was a very serious one. 'A friar, a Dominican, an inquisitor,'
said the people, 'has gone over to the Lutherans, and is striving to
make heretics everywhere.' The monks of his own convent made the most
noise. The king, who detained Beda in prison, desired to preserve the
balance by giving some satisfaction to the catholics. He was not uneasy
about the German protestants; he had observed closely the landgrave's
ardour, and had no fear that the fiery Philip would break off the
alliance for a Dominican monk. Francis, therefore, allowed matters to
take their course, and Alexander appeared before a court of parliament.
'Name your accomplices,' said the judges; and as he refused to name the
accomplices, who did not exist, the president added: 'Give him the
boot.' The executioners brought forward the boards and the wedges, with
which they tightly compressed the legs of the evangelist. His sufferings
soon became so severe that, hoping they had converted him, they stopped
the torture, and the president once more called upon him to name all
who, like himself, had separated from the Church of Rome; but he was not
to be shaken, and the punishment began again. 'He was severely tortured
several times,' say the _Actes_, 'to great extremity of cruelty.' The
executioners drove the wedges so tightly between the boards in which his
limbs were confined, that his left leg was crushed. Alexander groaned
aloud: 'O God!' he exclaimed, 'there is neither pity nor mercy in these
men! ... oh that I may find both in thee!'—'Keep on,' said the head
executioner. The unhappy man, who had observed Budæus among the
assessors, turned on him a mild look of supplication, and said: 'Is
there no Gamaliel here to moderate the cruelty they are practising on
me?'[580] The illustrious scholar, an honest and just man, although
irresolute in his proceedings, kept his eyes fixed on the martyr,
astonished at his patience. 'It is enough,' he said: 'he has been
tortured too much; you ought to be satisfied.' Budæus was a person of
great authority; his words took effect, and the _extraordinary gehenna_
ceased. 'The executioners lifted up the martyr, and carried him to his
dungeon a cripple.'[581]
[Sidenote: ALEXANDER TORTURED.]
It was the custom to deliver sentence in the absence of the accused, and
to inform him of it in the Conciergerie through a clerk of the criminal
office. The idea occurred of pronouncing it in Alexander's presence;
perhaps in his terror he might ask for some alleviation, and by this
means they might extort a confession. But all was useless. The court
made a great display, and a crowd of spectators increased the solemnity,
to no purpose: Alexander Canus, of Evreux, in Normandy, was condemned to
be burnt alive. A flash of joy suddenly lit up his face. 'Truly,' said
the spectators, 'is he more joyful than he was before!'[582]
The priests now came forward to perform the sacerdotal degradation. 'If
you utter a word,' they told him, 'you will have your tongue cut
out.'—'The practice of cutting off the tongue,' adds the historian,
'began that year.' The priests took off his sacerdotal dress, shaved his
head, and went through all the _usual mysteries_. During this ceremony
Alexander uttered not a word; only at one of the absurdities of the
priests he let a smile escape him. They dressed him in the _robe de
fol_—a garment of coarse cloth, such as was worn by the poorer
peasantry. When the pious martyr caught sight of it, he exclaimed, 'O
God, is there any greater honour than to receive this day the livery
which thy Son received in the house of Herod?'[583]
A cart, generally used to carry mud or dust, was brought to the front of
the building. Some Dominicans, his former brethren, got into it along
with the humble christian, and all proceeded towards the Place Maubert.
As the cart moved but slowly, Alexander, standing up, leant over towards
the people, and 'scattered the seed of the Gospel with both hands.' Many
persons, moved even to tears, exclaimed that they were putting him to
death wrongfully; but the Dominicans pulled him by his gown, and annoyed
him in every way. At first he paid no attention to this; but when one of
the monks said to him coarsely: 'Either recant, or hold your tongue,'
Alexander turned round and said to him with firmness: 'I will not
renounce Jesus Christ.... Depart from me, ye deceivers of the people!'
At last they reached the front of the scaffold. While the executioners
were making the final preparations, Alexander, observing some lords and
ladies in the crowd, with common people, monks, and several of his
friends, asked permission to address a few words to them. An
ecclesiastical dignitary, a chanter of the Sainte Chapelle, carrying a
long staff, presided over the clerical part of the ceremony, and he gave
his consent. Then, seized with a holy enthusiasm, Alexander confessed,
'with great vehemence and vivacity of mind,'[584] the Saviour whom he
loved so much, and for whom he was condemned to die. 'Yes,' he
exclaimed, 'Jesus, our only Redeemer, suffered death to ransom us to God
his Father. I have said it, and I say it again, O ye christians who
stand around me, pray to God that, as his son Jesus Christ died for me,
he will give me grace to die now for him.'
[Sidenote: ALEXANDER'S TRIUMPHANT DEATH.]
Having thus spoken, he said to the executioner: 'Proceed.' The officers
of justice approached, they bound him to the pile and set it on fire.
The wood crackled, the flames rose, and Alexander, his eyes upraised to
heaven, exclaimed: 'O Jesus Christ, have pity on me! O Saviour, receive
my soul!' He saw the glory of God; by faith he discerned Jesus in
heaven, who received him into his kingdom. 'My Redeemer!' he repeated,
'O my Redeemer!' At last his voice was silent. The people wept; the
executioners said to one another: 'What a strange criminal!' and even
the monks asked: 'If this man is not saved, who will be?' Many beat
their breasts, and said: 'A great wrong has been done to that man!' And
as the spectators separated, they went away thinking: 'It is wonderful
how these people suffer themselves to be burnt in defence of their
faith.'[585]
The Romish party having obtained this satisfaction, the political party
thought only of overthrowing popery in one of the states of Germany, and
of paving the way for its decline in the kingdom of St. Louis.
[Footnote 551: Crespin, _Martyrologue_, fol. 111.]
[Footnote 552: Théod. de Bèze, _Hist. Eccl._ i. p. 9.]
[Footnote 553: Crespin, _Martyrologue_, fol. 107 verso.]
[Footnote 554: The words _reform_ and _reformed_ apply especially to the
religious movement in France.]
[Footnote 555: Crévier, _Hist. de l'Université de Paris_ v. p. 278.]
[Footnote 556: 'Hos Beda vellet incendio tradere.'—Myconius to
Bullinger, _Ep. Helvet. Ref._ p. 121, 8vo.]
[Footnote 557: 'Edictum, omnem qui duobus testibus convinceretur
lutheranus, statim exurendum esse.'—Bucer to Blaarer, Strasburg MSS.]
[Footnote 558: 'Res erit non absimilis inquisitioni Hispaniæ.'—Ibid.]
[Footnote 559: 'Nunc circa trecentos Parisiis jam captos.'—Bucer to
Blaarer, Strasburg MSS.]
[Footnote 560: His letters are preserved in the Seminary at Strasburg.]
[Footnote 561: 'Tum _coegit_ Bedam ut privatim cum eis congredi
oporteret.'—Letter of Oswald Myconius, _Ep. Helvet. Ref._ p. 121.]
[Footnote 562: 'Pessime enim nugas suas ad scripturas Dei adhibuit.'—
Ibid.]
[Footnote 563: 'Inscitiam suam ostendere, quod et ei cessit in magnam
ignominiam.'—Ibid.]
[Footnote 564: 'Beda conjectus est in carcerem, accusatus criminis læsæ
majestatis.'—Cop to Bucer, Strasb. MSS. See also H. de Coste, p. 77.
Schmidt, p. 106.]
[Footnote 565: _Lettres de la Reine de Navarre_, i. p. 299.]
[Footnote 566: 'Prorsus liberatus est theologorum calumniis, ac decreto
regis absolutus.'—Cop to Bucer, Strasburg MSS.]
[Footnote 567: 'Quo multi commoti sunt et perturbati.'—Cop to Bucer,
Strasburg MSS.]
[Footnote 568: Froment, _Actes et Gestes de Genève_, p. 76.—The Mint was
near the present railway station.]
[Footnote 569: Crespin, _Martyrologue_, fol. 106.]
[Footnote 570: Froment, _Actes et Gestes_, p. 74.]
[Footnote 571: Ibid.]
[Footnote 572: Froment, _Actes et Gestes_, p. 75.]
[Footnote 573: Ibid. p. 74.]
[Footnote 574: Coste, _Hist. de Le Picard_, p. 46; Schmidt, _Mémoires de
Roussel_, p. 107.]
[Footnote 575: Crespin, _Martyrologue_, fol. 106.]
[Footnote 576: Froment, _Actes et Gestes_, p. 75.]
[Footnote 577: _Actes et Gestes_, p. 75.]
[Footnote 578: Froment, _Actes et Gestes_, p. 75.]
[Footnote 579: Ibid.]
[Footnote 580: Crespin, _Martyrologue_, fol. 107.]
[Footnote 581: Crespin, _Martyrologue_, fol. 107.]
[Footnote 582: Ibid.]
[Footnote 583: Crespin, _Martyrologue_, fol. 107. Froment, _Actes et
Gestes_, p. 76.]
[Footnote 584: Ibid.]
[Footnote 585: Crespin, _Martyrologue_, fol. 107 verso. Froment, _Actes
et Gestes_, p. 78.]