“He had respect unto the recompense of the reward.”—HEBREWS xi. 26.
THE morrow after Hamelin’s unexpected visit to his friend was Sunday, and
he gladly embraced the opportunity, so soon as the shadows of night had
spread their friendly veil, to slip through the streets, and repair to
the place of meeting, where he exhorted and prayed with the little
congregation, bidding them be of good cheer, and encouraging them with
the hope, that before long, they should have a minister to take the
charge of them. The next day he departed for Allevert, where, being
kindly received by many of the people, he remained some time, calling
them together by the sound of a bell, to listen to his exhortations, and
also baptizing a child. Tidings of these proceedings were not long in
reaching Saintes, and a great stir was immediately raised by divers
officials of the town, who instigated the bishop at that time in
residence, to authorize proceedings against Hamelin.
So slenderly provided was the poor Huguenot, that he had taken with him
no other outfit than a simple staff in his hand; neither purse nor scrip
had he, nor carried any weapon of defence. Alone, and without fear, he
went his way, solely intent on the errand he was about. His friend, who
evidently regarded him with the utmost love and reverence, after
describing his defenceless condition, his poverty, and his trustful
spirit, humorously contrasts with all this the extravagant and absurd
measures adopted by his enemies, who “constrained the bishop to produce
money for the maintenance of a pursuit of the said Philebert, with
horses, gendarmes, cooks, and cutlers.” With all this fuss and ado, they
speedily transferred themselves to the islands of Allevert, where they
re-baptized the child—thus, as far as was in their power, repairing the
mischief done by the heretic, whom, though they failed to catch him in
that place, they shortly discovered in the mansion of one of the
neighbouring gentry; and, laying forcible hands on him, they carried him
off as a malefactor, to the criminals’ prison in Saintes, where they
lodged him in safe custody.
Sore was the grief of Palissy when he learned that the friend whom he
esteemed above all others, had thus been captured by wicked men; and well
he knew that they had both power and will to destroy Hamelin.
Indignation struggled in his breast with sorrow; and as he reflected on
the blameless conversation, pure charity, and simple-heartedness of the
man, he exclaimed—“I am full of wonder that men should have dared to sit
in judgment of death over him, when they had heard and well knew, that
his life was holy.” Not content with passively bewailing his friend’s
calamity, he tells that he mustered hardihood, notwithstanding that these
were perilous days, “to go and remonstrate with six of the principal
judges and magistrates of the town, that they had imprisoned a prophet or
an angel of the Lord,” assuring them that for eleven years he had known
this Philebert Hamelin to be of so holy a life that it seemed to him as
if other men were devils compared with him.
Strong and impetuous language, prompted by the indignant earnestness of a
loving and faithful heart, which set at nought all selfish
considerations! It was, indeed, no light risk our noble-hearted Bernard
was incurring. The edict of Châteaubriand had recently appeared,
aggravating all former penalties, forbidding all assistance to those who
were of the new religion, and all refuge of them; offering rewards to
such as should denounce them, and, in short, rendering the laws against
heresy so stringent, that the life of any one known to be a heretic
depended wholly on the sufferance of his neighbours. In the face of such
a danger, Palissy went to the very men who were officially engaged to
punish his rashness, and boldly remonstrating with them, proclaimed the
innocence and virtue of their prisoner. This courageous and honourable
conduct was fruitless. The judges, indeed, showed sufficient humanity
not to avail themselves of his boldness as a weapon against himself; they
even heard him with courtesy, and tried to excuse themselves in reference
to Hamelin’s condemnation. To use Palissy’s words—“The better to come by
a wash for their hands, that would acquit their hearts, they reasoned
that he had been a priest in the Roman church; therefore they sent him to
Bordeaux, with good and sure guard, by a provost-marshal.” Thus they set
the seal to his doom; for Bordeaux was well-known to be the
waiting-chamber to the scaffold.
An effort was made, while yet Hamelin remained imprisoned at Saintes, to
procure his release, which deserves to be mentioned on more than one
account. The tidings of his captivity had spread abroad, among the
neighbouring districts, and reached the ears of a little church founded
by him in a somewhat remote region. These poor people, with overflowing
hearts, when the evil tidings reached them, lost no time in considering
how they might best help to procure the release of one whom they loved
and honoured as their spiritual father. The result of their deliberation
was apparent, when, the day previous to his removal to Bordeaux, an
advocate came secretly to the prison-house in which Hamelin lay, and
offered to the jail-keeper the sum of 300 livres, provided he would, that
night, put the captive outside the prison door. The bribe was tempting;
and the frail official hesitated, desiring first, however, to take
counsel of Master Philebert in the matter. His magnanimous reply was
that he chose rather to perish by the hands of the executioner than to
expose another man to peril, for the purpose of securing his own safety.
On hearing this, the advocate, taking back his money, returned to those
who had sent him. “I ask you,” said Palissy, as he recounted this worthy
conduct of his friend, “which is he among us who would do the like, being
at the mercy of enemies, as he was?”
It was a sad meeting of the infant church when they assembled on the
Sabbath after Hamelin’s death. They looked each other in the face, and
sorrowfully proceeded to the sacred exercises of the hour. After the
service was concluded, Palissy introduced to them a minister, named De La
Place, who had been chosen by their deceased friend to undertake the
office of pastor in Allevert. The events which had since befallen
rendered it, however, highly dangerous and undesirable that he should
repair thither for a time; and he had received notice, warning him to
abstain from proceeding on his journey.
[Picture: . . a sad meeting of the infant church]
In compliance with this intimation he had stopped short at Saintes where
he remained in safety with Bernard, who now made him known to the
brethren, and they with one accord prayed him to stay among them and
minister the word of God. Thus were they, most unexpectedly, supplied
with a pastor.
Before the assembly broke up, Victor, calm in manner, though with intense
feeling, narrated to them some touching incidents he had learned of the
last hours of their martyred friend. He had not been alone; a companion
in tribulation shared his sufferings and death, whom Philebert had
strengthened in the hour of trial by his own quiet confidence and joyful
anticipation of the future that awaited them. On the morning fixed for
their execution he awoke his comrade, who was sleeping in the same cell,
and pointing with his hand to the splendid sunrise just visible on the
eastern horizon, he exclaimed, “Let us rejoice; for, if the aspect of
nature, and the return of daylight, be so beautiful on earth, what will
it be to-morrow, when we shall behold the mansions of heaven?”
His composure and piety affected even the stern jailer, who was so much
impressed with what he saw and heard that he had spoken of it to one who
secretly sympathized with the martyrs, and related everything to Victor.
When conveyed to the gibbet, Hamelin remained self-possessed, and a
divine peace was visible on his countenance. He was asked once more, if
he would renounce his errors, and return to the true faith, but, unmoved,
and steadfast in hope, he sang a hymn, making no other reply to the
importunities of those around him than this, “I die for the name of Jesus
Christ.” His last words were, “Lord Jesus, have mercy on me.”
When Victor had concluded his narrative, Palissy said, “You have heard,
brethren, the end of this child of God, to whom we are indebted in no
small degree; for if there be among us any of that Christian fellowship
in love which is the blessed product of communion with the members of the
body of Christ, we must assuredly trace it to his influence. All that
has been done among us is the result of the good example, counsel, and
doctrine of this brother, beloved in the Lord. And think you,” he
continued—his eye kindling, and his voice tremulous with emotion—“that
they who condemned the just will be excused on the plea of ignorance?
Assuredly the judges of this town knew well that his life was holy;
nevertheless, they acted through fear, lest they should lose their
offices: so we must understand it. And thus they delivered him up, and
caused him to be hung like a thief. But, will not God avenge his elect?
Will he not show that precious in his sight is the death of these, his
witnesses? Truly, a rich harvest has always sprung up from the blood of
the martyrs, and the ashes of the just, scattered to the four winds of
heaven, have been as the seed of the kingdom.”
These words of the noble-hearted potter recall to our minds what Luther
had spoken, some thirty years before this period, when tidings reached
him of the persecution and death of some of his followers. “At length,”
he exclaimed, “Christ is gathering some fruit from our labours, and is
creating new martyrs. Their bonds are our bonds; their dungeons our
dungeons; and their fires our fires. We are all with them, and the Lord
himself is at our head. He afterwards celebrated these first victims of
the Reformation in a noble hymn, whose strains were speedily heard
echoing throughout Germany, and everywhere spreading enthusiasm for the
cause—
“They ride the air—they will not down,
The ashes of the just;
Nor graves can hide, nor waters drown,
That spirit-pregnant dust.
Where’er the winds that seed have flung
Soldiers are gendered;
And Satan’s foiled, and Christ is sung
By voices from the dead.” {77}
The early years of the little Reformed church of Saintes were very
troublesome ones. It was established, in the outset, with great
difficulties and imminent perils, and those who ventured to enroll
themselves among its number were blamed and vituperated with perverse and
wicked calumnies. The ignorance and superstition of that age and country
were called into active exercise against the adherents of the new faith,
and the vilest slanders were fabricated against them, and accredited even
by those who witnessed their blameless lives. Most frequently their
meetings for religious worship were held during the hours of darkness,
for fear of their enemies; and occasion was taken from this circumstance
to insinuate that, if their doctrine were good, they would preach it
openly. They were even accused of wickedness and unchaste conduct in
their assemblies; nor were there wanting some “of the baser sort” who
said that the heretics had dealings with the devil, whose tail they went
to kiss by the light of a rosin candle. Notwithstanding all these
things, however, the church continued to exist, and to grow; and after a
time, it made surprising increase. The timid commencement, the rapid
advance, and, finally, the successful establishment and prevalence of the
Reformed tenets in Saintes, were all noted by Palissy, with loving
fidelity. He scanned, with the eye of a Christian and a philosopher, the
dealings of God’s providence; and watchfully observed the various ways in
which his purposes of wisdom and mercy were brought to pass.
It is remarked, by a Roman Catholic historian of the day, that “the
painters, clock-makers, modellers, jewellers, booksellers, printers, and
others, who, although in humble trades, have still some exercise for
thought, were the first to adopt these new ideas.” What a pleasing and
instructive fact, proving, as it does, that not only for the rich and
leisurely, the learned and studious, are reserved those best and choicest
gifts of God—the seeing eye, the hearing ear, and the heart wise to
discern the heavenly wisdom of the cross! Nowhere could we find an
instance more strikingly in point than that afforded us by the life of
Palissy. While he laboured with enthusiasm and devoted earnestness at
the calling of his choice (and of his necessity), his most precious, his
chosen pursuit was not his art, but the knowledge and service of God his
Saviour. He obeyed the sacred mandate, “Seek ye first the kingdom of God
and his righteousness,” and girding himself to the conflict with error,
his soul became possessed with a holy enthusiasm; and having assumed to
himself the right of free inquiry, he did not scruple to make bold
confession of his faith.