I. a second elector.’’ ‘‘He is worse than Luther,’’’ cried

the papists. More dreaded he was indeed by the Roman- ists of France. They thrust him into prison as a heretic, but he was set at liberty by the king. For years the strug- gle continued. Francis, wavering between Rome and the Reformation, alternately tolerated and restrained the fierce zeal of the monks. Berquin was three times imprisoned by the papal authorities, only to be released by the monarch, who, in admiration of his genius and his nobility of char- acter, refused to sacrifice him to the malice of the hierarchy.
Berquin was repeatedly warned of the danger that threatened him in France, and urged to follow the steps of those who had found safety in voluntary exile. The timid and time-serving Erasmus, who with all the splendor of his scholarship failed of that moral greatness which holds life and honor subservient to truth, wrote to Berquin: ‘Ask to be sent as ambassador to some foreign country ; go and travel in Germany. You know Beda and such as he—he is a thousand-headed monster, darting venom on every side. Your enemies are named legion. Were your cause better than that of Jesus Christ, they will not let you go till they have miserably destroyed you. Do not trust too much to the king’s protection. At all events, do not compromise me with the faculty of theology.’’*
But as dangers thickened, Berquin’s zeal only waxed the stronger. So far from adopting the politic and self-serving
* Wylie, b. 18, ch. 9.
THE FRENCH REFORMATION 217
counsel of Erasmus, he determined upon still bolder meas- ures. He would not only stand in defense of the truth, but he would attack error. The charge of heresy which the Romanists were seeking to fasten upon him, he would rivet upon them. The most active and bitter of his opponents were the learned doctors and monks of the theological department in the great University of Paris, one of the high- est ecclesiastical authorities both in the city and the nation. From the writings of these doctors, Berquin drew twelve propositions which he publicly declared to be ‘‘opposed to the Bible, and heretical;’’ and he appealed to the king to act as judge in the controversy.
The monarch, not loath to bring into contrast the power and acuteness of the opposing champions, and glad of an opportunity of humbling the pride of these haughty monks, bade the Romanists defend their cause by the Bible. This weapon, they well knew, would avail them little; imprison- ment, torture, and the stake were arms which they better understood how to wield. Now the tables were turned, and they saw themselves about to fall into the pit into which they had hoped to plunge Berquin. In amazement they looked about them for some way of escape.
‘‘Just at that time an image of the Virgin at ‘the corner of one of the streets, was mutilated.’’ There was great excitement in the city. Crowds of people flocked to the place, with expressions of mourning and indignation. The king also was deeply moved. Here was an advantage which the monks could turn to good account, and they were quick to improve it. ‘‘These are the fruits of the doctrines of Berquin,’’ they cried. ‘‘All is about to be overthrown —religion, the laws, the throne itself—by this Lutheran conspiracy.’’*
Again Berquin was apprehended. The king withdrew from Paris, and the monks were thus left free to work their will. The Reformer was tried, and condemned to die, ana lest Francis should even yet interpose to save him, the sentence was executed on the very day it was pronounced,
TWiylie, b. 18, ch. 9.
218 THE GREAT CONTROVERSY
At noon Berquin was conducted to the place of death. An immense throng gathered to witness the event, and there were many who saw with astonishment and misgiving that the victim had been chosen from the best and bravest of the noble families of France. Amazement, indignation, scorn, and bitter hatred darkened the faces of that surg- ing crowd; but upon one face no shadow rested. The martyr’s thoughts were far from that scene of tumult; he- was conscious only of the presence of his Lord.
The wretched tumbrel upon which he rode, the frowning taces of his persecutors, the dreadful death to which he was voing,— these he heeded not; He who liveth and was dead, and is alive forevermore, and hath the keys of death and of hell, was beside him. Berquin’s countenance was radi- ant with the hght and peace of heaven. He had attired himself in goodly raiment, wearing ‘‘a cloak of velvet, a doublet of satin and damask, and golden hose.’’* He was about to testify to his faith in presence of the King of kings and the witnessing universe, and no token of mourning should belie his joy.
As the procession moved slowly through the crowded streets, the people marked with wonder the unclouded peace, the joyous triumph, of his look and bearing. ‘‘He is,’’ they said, ‘‘like one who sits in a temple, and meditates on holy things.’’*
At the stake, Berquin endeavored to address a few words to the people; but the monks, fearing the result, began to shout, and the soldiers to clash their arms, and their clamor drowned the martyr’s voice. Thus in 1529, the highest literary and ecclesiastical authority of cultured Paris ‘‘set the populace of 1793 the base example of stifling on the scaffold the sacred words of the dying.’’’
Berquin was strangled, and his body was consumed in the flames. The tidings of his death caused sorrow to the friends of the Reformation throughout France. But his
‘D’Aubigné, ‘‘ History of the Reformation in the Time of Calvin,’’ be, achy 16; 2 Waylies bad 3eichy (9%
THE FRENCH REFORMATION 219
example was not lost. ‘‘We too are ready,’’ said the wit- nesses for the truth, ‘‘to meet death cheerfully, setting our eyes on the life that is to come.’’’
During the persecution at Meaux, the teachers of the reformed faith were deprived of their license to preach, and they departed to other fields. Lefevre after a time made his way to Germany. Farel returned to his native town in. eastern France, to spread the light in the home of his childhood. Already tidings had been received of what was going on at Meaux, and the truth, which he taught with fearless zeal, found listeners. Soon the authorities were roused to silence him, and he was banished from the city. Though he could no longer labor publicly, he traversed the plains and villages, teaching in private dwellings and in secluded meadows, and finding shelter in the forests and among the rocky caverns which had been his haunts in boy- hood. God was preparing him for greater trials. ‘‘The crosses, persecutions, and machinations of Satan, of which I was forewarned, have not been wanting,’’ he said; ‘‘they are even much severer than I could have borne of myself; but God is my Father; He has provided and always will provide me the strength which I require.’’” ;
As in apostolic days, persecution had ‘‘fallen out rather unto the furtherance of the gospel.’’* Driven from Paris and Meaux, ‘‘they that were scattered abroad went every- where preaching the word.’’* And thus the light found its way into many of the remote provinces of France.
God was still preparing workers to extend His cause. In one of the schools of Paris was a thoughtful, quiet youth, already giving evidence of a powerful and penetrating mind, and no less marked for the blamelessness of his life than for intellectual ardor and religious devotion. Jlis genius and application soon made him the pride of the college, and it was confidently anticipated that John Calvin would become
1D’ Aubigné, ‘‘ History of the Reformation in the Time of Calvin,’’ Los RO) ANG
?D’Aubigné, b. 12, ch. 9. Sole al hes 1 Epa 2s * Acts 8:4,
Ay ¢ Contro.
220 THE GREAT CONTROVERSY
one of the ablest and most honored defenders of the church. But a ray of divine light penetrated even within the walls of scholasticism and superstition by which Calvin was in- closed. He heard of the new doctrines with a shudder, nothing doubting that the heretics deserved the fire to which they were given. Yet all unwittingly he was brought face to face with the heresy, and forced to test the power of Romish theology to combat the Protestant teaching.
A cousin of Calvin’s, who had joined the Reformers, was in Paris. The two kinsmen often met, and discussed to- gether the matters that were disturbing Christendom. ‘“‘There are but two religions in the world,’’ said Olivetan, the Protestant. ‘‘The one class of religions are those which men have invented, in all of which man saves himself by ceremonies and good works; the other is that one religion which is revealed in the Bible, and which teaches man to lcok for salvation solely from the free grace of God.’’
“‘T will have none of your new doctrines,’’ exclaimed © Calvin; “‘think you that I have lived in error all my days?’’*
But thoughts had been awakened in his mind which he could not banish at will. Alone in his chamber he pon- dered upon his cousin’s words. Conviction of sin fastened upon him; he saw himself, without an intercessor, in the presence of a holy and just Judge. The mediation of saints, good works, the ceremonies of the church, all were power- less to atone for sin. He could see before him nothing but the blackness of eternal-despair. In vain the doctors of the church endeavored to relieve his woe. Confession, penance, were resorted to in vain; they could not reconcile the soul with God.
While still engaged in these fruitless struggles, Calvin, ehancing one day to visit one of the public squares, wit- nessed there the burning of a heretic. He was filled with wonder at ~the expression of peace which rested upon the martyr’s countenance. Amid the tortures of that dreadful death, and under the more terrible condemnation of the
a Wadley 195 bya, 76
Ce THE FRENCH REFORMATION 221
church, he manifested a faith and courage which the young student painfully contrasted with his own despair and darkness, while living in strictest obedience to the church. Upon the Bible, he knew, the heretics rested their faith. He determined to study it, and discover, if he could, the secret of their joy.
In the Bible he found Christ. ‘‘O Father,’’ he eried, ‘‘His sacrifice has appeased Thy wrath; His blood has washed away my impurities; His cross has borne my curse; His death has atoned for me. We had devised for ourselves many useless follies, but Thou hast placed Thy word. be- fore me like a torch, and Thou hast touched my heart, in order that I may hold in abomination all other merits save those of Jesus.’’’”
Calvin had been educated for the priesthood. When only twelve years of age he had been appointed to the chaplainey of a small church, and his head had been shorn by the bishop in accordance with the eanon of the church. He did not receive consecration, nor did he fulfil the duties of a priest, but he became a member of the clergy, holding , the title of his office, and receiving an allowance in con- sideration thereof.
Now, feeling that he could never become a priest, he turned for a time to the study of law, but finally abandoned this purpose, and determined to devote his life to the gospel. But he hesitated to become a public teacher. He was nat- urally timid, and was burdened with a sense of the weighty responsibility of the position, and he desired still to devote himself to study. The earnest entreaties of his friends, how- ever, at last won his consent. ‘‘ Wonderful it is,’’ he said, ‘‘that one of so lowly an origin should be exalted to so great a’ disnity.’’”
Quietly did Calvin enter upon his work, and his words were as the dew falling to refresh the earth. He had left Paris, and was now in a provincial town under the protec- tion of the princess Margaret, who, loving the gospel, ex- tended her protection to its disciples. Calvin was still a
*Martyn, Vol. III, ch, 13. “Wylie, by 13) ch. 9:
222 THE GREAT CONTROVERSY *
youth, of gentle, unpretentious bearing. His work began with the people at their homes. Surrounded by the mem- bers of the household, he read the Bible, and opened the truths of salvation. Those who heard the message, carried the good news to others, and soon the teacher passed beyond ‘the city to the outlying towns and hamlets. To both the castle and the cabin he found entranec, and he went for- ward, laying the foundation of churches that were to yield fearless witnesses for the truth.
A few months, and he was again in Paris. There was unwonted agitation in the circle of learned men and schol- ars. The study of the ancient languages had led men to the Bible, and many whose hearts were untouched by its truths were eagerly discussing them, and even giving battle to the champions of Romanism. Calvin, though an able combatant in the fields of theological controversy, had a higher mission to accomplish than that of these noisy school- men. The minds of men were stirred, and now was the time to open to them the truth. While the halls of the universities were filled with the clamor of theological dis- putation, Calvin was making his way from house to house, opening the Bible to the people, and speaking to them of Christ and Him crucified.
In God’s providence, Paris was to receive another invita- tion to accept the gospel. The eall of Lefevre and Farel had been rejected, but again the message was to be heard by all classes in that great capital. The king, influenced by political considerations, had not yet fully sided with Rome against the Reformation. Margaret still clung to the hope that Protestantism was to triumph in France. She resolved that the reformed faith should be preached in Paris. During the absence of the king, she ordered a Protestant minister to preach in the churehes of the city. This being forbidden by the papal dignitaries, the princess threw open the palace. An apartment was fitted up as a chapel, and it was announced that every day, at a specified hour, a sermon would be preached, and the people of every
THE FRENCH REFORMATION 223
rank and station were invited to attend. Crowds flocked to the service. Not only the chapel, but the ante-chambers and halls were thronged. Thousands every day assembled,— nobles, statesmen, lawyers, merchants, and artisans. The king, instead of forbidding the assemblies, ordered that two of the churches of Paris should be opened. Never before had the city been so moved by the word of God. The spirit of life from heaven seemed to be breathed upon the people. Temperance, purity, order, and industry were taking the place of drunkenness, licentiousness, strife, and idleness. But the hierarchy were not idle. The king still refused to interfere to stop the preaching, and they turned to the populace. No-means were spared to excite the fears, the prejudices, and the fanaticism of the ignorant and supersti- tious multitudes. Yielding blindly to her false teachers, Paris, like Jerusalem of old, knew not the time of her visi- tation, nor the things which belonged unto her peace. For two years the word of God was preached in the capital; but while there were many who accepted the gospel, the majority of the people rejected it. Francis had made a show of toleration, merely to serve his own purposes, and the papists succeeded in regaining the ascendency. Again the churches were closed, and the stake was set up. Calvin was still in Paris, preparing himself by study, meditation, and prayer, for his future labors, and continu- ing to spread the light. At last, however, suspicion fast- ened upon him. The authorities determined to bring him to the flames. Regarding himself as secure in his seclusion, he had no thought of danger, when friends came hurrying to his room with the news that officers were on their way to arrest him. At the instant a loud knocking was heard at the outer entrance. There was not a moment to be lost. Some of his friends detained the officers at the door, while others assisted the Reformer to let himself down from a window, and he rapidly made his way to the outskirts of the city. Finding shelter in the cottage of a laborer who was a friend to the reform, he disguised himself in the
8—G. C.
224 THE GREAT CONTROVERSY
garments of his host, and shouldering a hoe, started on his journey. Traveling southward, he again found refuge in the dominions of Margaret.’
Here for a few months he remained, safe under the pro- tection of powerful friends, and engaged as:before in study. But his heart was set upon the evangelization of France, and he could not long remain inactive. As soon as the storm had somewhat abated, he sought a new field of labor in Poitiers, where was a university, and where already the new opinions had found favor. Persons of all classes gladly listened to the gospel. There was no public preach- ing, but in the home of the chief magistrate, in his own lodgings, and sometimes in a public garden, Calvin opened the words of eternal life to those who desired to listen. After a time, as the number of hearers increased, it was thought safer to assemble outside the eity. A cave in the side of a deep and narrow gorge, where trees and over- hanging rocks made the seclusion still more complete, was chosen as the place of meeting. Little companies, leaving the city by different routes, found their way hither. In this retired spot the Bible was read and explained. Here the Lord’s supper was celebrated for the first time by the Protestants of France. From this little church several faithful evangelists were sent out.
Once more Calvin returned to Paris. He could not even yet relinquish the hope that France as a nation would accept the Reformation. But he found almost every door of labor closed. To teach the gospel was to take the direct road to the stake, and he at last determined to depart to Germany. Scarcely had he left France when a storm burst over the Protestants, that, had he remained, must surely have involved him in the general ruin.
The French Reformers, eager to see their country keep- ing pace with Germany and Switzerland, determined to strike a bold blow against the superstitions of Rome, that should arouse the whole nation. Accordingly placards at- tacking the mass were in one night posted all over France.
*See D’Aubigné, ‘‘ History of the Reformation in the Time of Calvin,’’ b. 2, ch. 30.
THE FRENCH REFORMATION 225
Instead of advancing the reform, this zealous but ill-judged movement brought ruin, not only upon its propagators, but upon the friends of the reformed faith throughout France. It gave the Romanists what they had long desired,—a pretext for demanding the utter destruction of the heretics as agitators dangerous to the stability of the throne and the peace of the nation.
By some secret hand — whether of indisereet friend or wily foe was never known — one of the placards was at- tached to the door of the king’s private chamber. The monarch was filled with horror. In this paper, superstitions that had received the veneration of ages were attacked with an unsparing hand. And the unexampled boldness of ob- truding these plain and startling utterances into the royal presence, aroused the wrath of the king. In his amaze- ment he stood for a little time trembling and _ speechless. Then his rage found utterance in the terrible words: ‘‘Let all be seized without distinction who are suspected of Luther- esy. I will exterminate them all.’’* The die was cast. The king had determined to throw himself fully on the side of Rome.
Measures were at once taken for the arrest of every Lutheran in Paris. reformed faith, who had been accustomed to summon the believers to their secret assembles, was seized, and with the threat of instant death at the stake, was commanded to conduct the papal emissary to the home of every Protestant in the city. He shrunk in horror from the base proposal, but at last fear of the flames prevailed, and he consented to become the betrayer of his brethren. Preceded by the host, and surrounded by a train of priests, incense-bearers, monks, and soldiers, Morin, the royal detective, with the traitor, slowly and silently passed through the streets of the city. The demonstration was ostensibly in honor of the ‘‘holy sacrament,’’ an act of expiation for the insult put upon the mass by the protesters. But beneath this pageant a deadly purpose was concealed. On arriving op-
‘D’Aubigné, ‘‘ History of the Reformation in the Time of Calvin,’’ b. 4, ch. 10.
226 THE GREAT CONTROVERSY
posite the house of a Lutheran, the betrayer made a sign, but no word was uttered. The procession halted, the house was entered, the family were dragged forth and chained, and the terrible company went forward in search of fresh victims. They ‘‘spared no house, great or small, not even the colleges of the University of Paris. . .. Morin made all the city quake. . . . It was a reign of terror.’’’
The victims were put to death with cruel torture, it being specially ordered that the fire should be lowered, in order to prolong their agony. But they died as conquerors. Their constancy was unshaken, their peace unclouded. Their per- secutors, powerless to move their inflexible firmness, felt themselves defeated. ‘‘The scaffolds were distributed over all the quarters of Paris, and the burnings followed on suc- cessive days, the design being to spread the terror of heresy by spreading the executions. The advantage, however, in the end, remained with the gospel. All Paris was enabled to see what kind of men the new opinions could produce. There was no pulpit like the martyr’s pile. The serene joy that lighted up the faces of these men as they passed along ... to the place of execution, their heroism as they stood amid the bitter flames, their meek forgiveness of injuries, transformed, in instances not a few, anger into pity, and hate into love, and pleaded with resistless eloquence in behalf of the gospel.’’*
The priests, bent upon keeping the popular fury at its height, circulated the most terrible accusations against the Protestants. They were charged with plotting to massacre the Catholics, to overthrow the government, and to murder the king. Not a shadow of evidence could be produced in support of the allegations. Yet these prophecies of evil were to have a fulfilment; under far different circumstances, however, and from causes of an opposite character. The eruelties that were inflicted upon the innocent Protestants by the Catholics, accumulated in a weight of retribution, and in after-centuries wrought the very doom they had pre- dicted to be impending, upon the king, his government, and
*D’Aubigné, ‘‘ History of the Reformation in the Time of Calvin,’’ b. 4, ch: 10. * Wylie, b. 13, ch. 20.
THE FRENCH REFORMATION 227
his subjects; but it was brought about by infidels, and by the papists themselves. It was not the establishment, but the suppression, of Protestantism, that, three hundred years later, was to bring upon France these dire calamities. _
Suspicion, distrust, and terror now pervaded all classes of society. Amid the general alarm it was seen how deep a hold the Lutheran teaching had gained upon the minds of men who stood highest for education, influence, and excel- lence of character. Positions of trust and honor were sud- denly found vacant. Artisans, printers, scholars, professors in the universities, authors, and even courtiers, disappeared. Hundreds fied from Paris, self-constituted exiles from their native land, in many cases thus giving the first intimation that they favored the reformed faith. The papists looked about them in amazement at thought of the unsuspected heretics that had been tolerated among them. Their rage spent itself upon the “multitudes of humbler victims who were within their power. The prisons were crowded, and the very air seemed darkened with the smoke of burning piles, kindled for the confessors of the gospel.
Francis I. had gloried in being a leader in the great movement for the revival of learning which marked the opening of the sixteenth century. He had delighted to gather at his court men of letters from every country. To his love of learning and his contempt for the ignorance and superstition of the monks was due, in part at least, the degree of toleration that had been granted to the reform. But, inspired with zeal to stamp out heresy, this patron of learning issued an edict declaring printing abolished all over France! Francis I. presents one among the many ex- amples on record showing that intellectual culture is not a safeguard against religious intolerance and persecution.
France by a solemn and public ceremony was to commit herself fully to the destruction of Protestantism. The priests denianded that the affront offered to high Heaven in the condemnation of the mass, be expiated in blood, and that the king, in behalf of his people, publicly give his sanction to the dreadful work.
228 THE GREAT CONTROVERSY
The 2ist of January, 1535, was fixed upon for the awful ceremonial. The superstitious fears and bigoted hatred of the whole nation had been roused. Paris was thronged with the multitudes that from all the surrounding country crowded her streets. The day was to be ushered in by a vast and imposing procession. ‘‘The houses along the line of march were hung with mourning drapery, and altars rose at intervals.’’ Before every door was a lighted torch in honor of the ‘‘holy sacrament.’’ Before daybreak the procession formed, at the palace of the king. ‘First came the banners and crosses of the several parishes; next ap- peared the citizens, walking two and two, and_ bearing torches.’’ The four orders of friars followed, each in its own peculiar dress. Then came a vast collection of famous relics. Following these rode lordly ecclesiastics in their purple and scarlet robes and jeweled adornings, a gorgeous and glittering array.
“‘The host was carried by the bishop of Paris under a magnificent canopy, ... supported by four princes of the blood. . . . After the host walked the king... . Francis