CHAPTER VII.

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“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.

. . 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.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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