BOOK III. FROM THE PROMULGATION TO THE REVOCATION OF THE EDICT OF NANTES. (1598-1685.) (continued 2)

The result was, that the chief employments at court and in the army, of the magistracy and the finances, were systematically refused to the Calvinists, except in extraordinary cases. Turenne and Duquesne broke through this barrier by the splendour of their services; the others were left disregarded, or condemned to grow grey in inferior situations. The Edict of Nantes had, no doubt, made the Reformed admissible to office, but it did not guarantee to them the favours of the court; “and royalty,” to use the expression of Louis XIV. himself, “restricted them to the narrowest limits that justice and a regard for appearances would permit.” Even these conditions, however, were not long respected.

Louis XIV. has, moreover, said, in the memoirs which he dictated for the instruction of the dauphin: “As for the favours that depended upon me alone, I resolved, and I have punctually kept that resolution ever since, not to grant any to the people of that religion, and this out of kindness, and not from hatred, that they might be obliged thereby to consider from time to time by themselves, and apart from violence, whether they were acting wisely in voluntarily depriving themselves of the advantages they might enjoy in common with my other subjects.” Nothing can be more naïf and instructive than these avowals.

The ministers of state naturally followed the bent of the prince. No favour [was to be allowed] to heretics; ill-will [was to be accorded,] when it was possible [to manifest it] without too open an attack upon acquired rights; and a constant inequality of treatment, that urged the lukewarm and the ambitious to change their religion.

The intendants of the provinces—the new creation of a government, that aspired to a stronger national unity—anxious to make themselves agreeable to the court and the council, did not omit to pronounce for the Jesuits against the pastors, and for the bishops against the provincial synods or the consistories, whenever there was a pretext, however frivolous, that could be made available.

Nearly all the Parliaments pursued the same course, not through religious fanaticism, but through that spirit which in all ages, among the Pagans as in Christendom, has constituted the magistracy the guardians of ancient laws and traditional customs. The advocate-general, Omer Talon, said, in the great days of Poitiers, in 1634, that the pretended Reformed, being only suffered by toleration, the matters regarding them ought not to be counted as favourable, and that the most rigorous interpretation ought, on the contrary, to be applied against them.

Thus in the questions brought before the tribunals, they could only count upon the strict right, or rather upon what it was not possible to deny to them without flagrant injustice. Out of every severe decree, a hostile law immediately arose against them, and by one restriction and another, they successively lost what the Edict of Nantes had conceded to them.

The universities and colleges, where clerical influence was dominant, invented difficulty upon difficulty, against conferring academic degrees upon the religionists, and at length these degrees were only granted upon certificates of attendance at mass.

As for the relations between private individuals of the two religions, there is a distinction to be drawn. The men of letters, and the people of the middle class, the respectable folks—to use the language of the period—generally lived on good terms with each other. We know that the French Academy was founded by members of both communions. Such was also the origin of many learned societies, at Nismes and elsewhere. “Long before the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes,” says Segrais, “the (Roman) Catholics and Huguenots lived here [at Caen] on good terms; they ate, drank, played, and took their amusements together, and left each other freely, some for the mass, others for the sermon, without any scandal on one side or the other.”

But in the body of the people, more subjected to the teaching of the priesthood, prejudices and hatreds were rife. Whence resulted vexatious interferences with the rights of freedom, local privileges, as the corporations of trades, and in the small appointments in the gift of the municipal councils. Whence also arose acts of violence on the least pretence, against the places of worship, against the property, against the persons; and when it was dared, attacks became more regular and more general, and were habitually headed by some ignorant parish vicar, or some abject monk.

By what has been said, we may judge of the condition of the Reformed after the Edict of Grace. They had, at intervals, days of repose, which permitted them to apply themselves to theological learning, to develop their ordinary instruction, and to cultivate the industrial arts. But this rest was uncertain, this calm unquiet, so to speak, and persecution soon went on increasing, until the favourable moment appeared for the annihilation of the French Reformation. We shall only relate what is most important.[81]

VIII.

Cardinal de Richelieu, who had written a method of controversies, in the leisure moments of his youth, was bent upon the execution of his plan of reunion. He thereupon sounded the pastors and the provincial synods, by means of his confidant Father Joseph, a mysterious personage, an emissary at once intriguing, active, and unscrupulous; he was seconded in his work by a certain Théophile de la Milletière, an equivocal Calvinist, and a writer of but little learning, who was ambitious to gain a name by promoting designs of which he did not comprehend the object.

Among the persons who were captivated by this project, were the prudent and skilful, who were desirous of abandoning a religion—if they could do so without dishonour—so little agreeable to [those in] power, as well as simple people, who foolishly believed that (Roman) Catholicism was willing to make serious concessions, no less than some other good folks, who treated the whole matter as a question of charity. In the number of these last, a man of merit, Petit, pastor and professor of theology at Nismes, was for some time found.

However, it soon appeared, that under the pompous word reunion, nothing else was dreamed of than an act of repentance on the part of the Calvinists, and of gracious amnesty on that of the (Roman) Catholics—a no more considerable change than that of a few terms, which shocked the ear of the disciples of Calvin. Certain pastors were to be gained beforehand, who, for form’s sake, should hold a disputation with (Roman) Catholic doctors in the king’s presence, and should oppose no strong objection. Then they were to demand admittance as penitents, and the Church of Rome, like a good mother, would receive them with open arms. Lastly, a meeting, filled with people of this easy mould, was to be got together in a national synod; and when once the project of reunion was officially announced, material force was to be employed to compel the submission of the recalcitrants, or to expel them from the kingdom.

The plan was skilfully conceived: the only flaw, however, was the omission to take honourable and faithful consciences into the account. It failed. The pastors displayed obstinacy, and, what is remarkable, the laity were even more obstinate than their ministers. Not one provincial synod entered into the plot. Petit acknowledged his error; La Milletière was excommunicated, and immediately became a (Roman) Catholic; Richelieu had other matters to attend to, and the idea of the reunion was abandoned, to be again attempted on two or three occasions before the Revocation.

The clergy went a different way to exterminate heresy, namely, by means of missionaries, ambulating controversialists, otherwise called converters, or propagators of the faith, whom we find at work from the year 1630. Some of them were monks, Capuchins and Recollets, of whom Fénélon somewhere says, that they had drawn universal contempt upon themselves by their ignorance and their fanatical rage. The others were laymen of the lowest condition—cordwainers, brokers, tailors, itinerant grinders, little shopmen—who, without any study, abandoned their trade for the championship of the (Roman) Catholic faith.

These vagabonds received a fixed sum per head, for every proselyte, and the rate varied according to the importance of the convert. They were careful to take certificates duly legalized, of their conquests, so that they might insure the receipt of their money. Fraud soon entered into the transaction, as might have been expected. There were wretches who joined the Reformed communion for the express purpose of deserting it, or feigned to belong to it that they might abjure, and afterwards share [the proceeds of their iniquity] with their accomplices.

The converters had learned a catalogue of ridiculous subtilties and gross quibbles by heart, which they retailed on all occasions. The refutation of what was least ignoble in these polemics, was made with a master’s hand by the pastor Drelincourt, in his Abrégé des Controverses, whence he was called the scourge of the propagators of the faith.

One of their favourite arguments consisted in putting this question: “Do you believe that the king is idolatrous and damned?” If the answer was “yes,” the result became a serious affair, pregnant with grave consequences, particularly for those who held any public appointment. If the reply was in the negative, they then asked how it was that any one could refuse to enter a church that opened the door of salvation. Or, again, if they encountered a strong resistance, they pushed their interlocutor to utter irreverent words against the Virgin and the saints; and as the laws punished what was then styled blasphemy, they denounced the offenders.

As they had the priests and the Jesuits for their protectors, the majority of these “converters” were no less insolent than illiterate. They ran from town to town, knocking at the doors of consistories and synods. They even made their way, by force, into private houses, sometimes by the assistance of the judges of the district, and commenced a controversy, according to rule. So long as they were civilly invited to withdraw, they held firm. But if in a moment of anger they were thrust out, they sought to excite their unwilling host to some act of violence before witnesses, in the open street, and immediately carried their complaint before a tribunal.

Many carried their impudence to such an extent as to interrupt the pastors in full assembly, and to give them the lie. These unworthy excesses exposed them to no more than murmurs and words of reprehension. People dared not chastise them as they deserved. If an assembly, less enduring than others, thrust them into the street and a tumult resulted, the consequence was the interdiction of religious worship, or even the imprisonment of the pastor.

Stalls were erected at the crossways; and there these new mountebanks, with piles of great books at their sides, of which they had not read a word, blattered away upon points of controversy, parodied the ministers, and diverted or excited the populace by their vociferations.

The most remarkable of these “converters” was one Véron, or Father Véron. He had worn the habit of a Jesuit, and had been presented with the curacy of Charenton, that he might more conveniently importune the Reformed. This Véron frequently attended the sermons of the pastors, and at the end of the service refuted them on a kind of stage he had caused to be erected at the door of his church. He wearied the most learned doctors of the Reformation with his challenges. The celebrated Bochart had on one occasion the complaisance to open a regular disputation with him. But Véron fled before the questions, which he had himself placed upon the table, were examined, and the pastors ended by opposing him with the silence of contempt.

All these endeavours after conversions had but little success. Not only studious men, but artisans, women, nay even children of the Reformed communion, made themselves masters of controversial subjects, and easily confounded the self-styled propagators of the faith. So also, after the pacific mission came the armed mission—the booted mission, of which we shall speak in its place.

From 1631 to 1645 three national synods were held. The court strove to render them less and less frequent, until it might succeed wholly in suppressing them. The first of these assemblies was opened at Charenton, on the 1st of September, 1631. The commissioner Galland took his seat without opposition. Pastors and laity, all were of a sorrowful heart, and [maintained an] humble attitude: they felt they were at the mercy of their opponents.

The king disgraced the general deputies, whose nomination would be agreeable to himself, and the synod obeyed. Later, one single deputy only was required, the formality of whose re-election was even dispensed with. This high office was concentrated in the family of the Marquis de Ruvigny, and the churches vainly sought to join a general deputy from the Tiers-état with him. The liberal spirit of the Reformation did not suit Louis XIV.

The synod of Charenton declared itself against any projects of reconciliation with the (Roman) Catholics; but it offered the hand of fellowship to the Lutherans, who until then had not been admitted to the Supper of the Calvinists. “Because the churches of the Confession of Augsburg,” it said, “agree with the other Reformed churches in the fundamental points of true religion, and because there is neither superstition nor idolatry in their worship, the faithful of the said confession, who through a spirit of friendship and peace, shall join the communion of our churches in this kingdom, may, without making any abjuration, be received at the table of the Lord.”

The king would vouchsafe no answer to the list of grievances drawn up at Charenton, until after the separation of the synod: “In order,” he said, “that he might treat with his subjects more suitably to his sovereign dignity and the sacred authority of his word.” We may recognise in this (answer) both the genius and accent of Richelieu.

Another national synod was opened in the month of May, 1637, in the town of Alençon. M. de Saint Marc, a councillor of state and a royal commissioner, addressed it in a high tone: “I am come to your synod to make known to you the will of his majesty. All authority is of God, and consequently, on this immoveable basis, you are bound to obey. Besides that the goodness of his majesty obliges you to obedience, as well as the care he takes of you, his clemency and his power are the firmest supports you can have. I have not the slightest doubt that you have often reflected upon the admirable providence of God, which has so ordered that the royal authority is your preservation.” The moderator, Basnage, replied to M. de Saint Marc, that the churches had never had the least thought of departing from that submission, to which the Word of God bound them.

The king (now) forbade the pastors and elders to correspond between synod to synod, or with foreign ecclesiastical bodies; and as many letters had arrived from Geneva and Holland, they were given up sealed to the commissioner, who, after having ascertained their contents, permitted that they should be read to the meeting. These letters treated upon some points of doctrine raised by Amyrant, a professor of the academy of Saumur. We shall return to them by-and-by.

The synod engaged itself upon the question of negro slavery, a matter little agitated in the seventeenth century, and which did not at all excite the attention of the assemblies of the (Roman) Catholic clergy. If it was of opinion that the Word of God does not prohibit the buying and keeping of slaves, it at least laid down conditions very far in advance of that epoch: “This assembly, confirming the canon framed by the provincial synod of Normandy, exhorted the faithful not to abuse this liberty in a manner contrary to the rules of Christian charity, and not to replace these unbelievers in the power of the barbarians, who might treat them inhumanly, or in that of those who were cruel; but to give them to kind-hearted Christians, who might chiefly be in a condition to take care of their precious and immortal souls, by endeavouring to instruct them in the religion of Christ.”

A third national synod was held at Charenton, at the end of the year 1644, shortly after the death of Cardinal de Richelieu and of Louis XIII. The king’s commissioner took the singular part of being the first to complain of the encroachments and usurpations of the Reformed churches, in order, apparently, to prevent the Reformed from making reclamations against the injustice and indignities which they suffered. He then made known the wishes of the king, among which was the order to exclude any from the ministry of the Gospel who had studied at Geneva, in Holland, or in England, because of the republican spirit which prevailed in those countries. This was the period of the struggles of Cromwell and the Puritans against Charles I.

There was, on the reports of some deputies from the maritime provinces, a question about the Independents, who had come from England and settled in France. They were accused of teaching that each flock ought to be self-governed, without any regard to the authority of conferences and synods. The assembly, considering this opinion to be prejudicial to the interests of the Church of God, and to those of the state, enjoined upon the maritime provinces, that they should prevent this evil from taking root in the kingdom.

IX.

From 1652 to 1656, the situation of the Reformed was satisfactory. Mazarin was pleased with the fidelity they had shown during the troubles of the Fronde. He was also desirous, by treating them well, to conciliate the friendship of Cromwell, who by inclining to the side of France or of Spain, then at war with each other, might throw a decisive weight into the scale.

The free exercise of religion was therefore re-established in many places where it had been suppressed, contrary to the texts of the edicts. The Reformed were restored to municipal offices; some were intrusted with important appointments in the finances and the army. The declaration of 1652, which we have already had occasion to mention, confirmed the Edict of Nantes, and regulations, articles, and patents passed in favour of the Reformed. Never since the reign of Henry IV. had they breathed so freely, or enjoyed greater protection.

This time was to be of short duration. The assembly of the clergy, which met in 1656, pronounced, through their organ, the archbishop of Sens, bitter complaints against what they called the oppression of the (Roman) Catholic church. As the priests could not be persecutors, they declared that they were persecuted. They did not, of course, demand the revocation of the edicts; but they required the re-establishment of “legitimate interpretations, which had been put upon them by the late king.” They grieved to see that heretics “had by new enterprises ruined all the wise precautions with which the great prince (Louis XIII.) had stopped the restlessness of their minds,” and supposed that the declaration of 1652 had been a surprise made upon the piety of Louis XIV. and his prime minister.

As the Reformed had built some places of worship belonging to a commander of Malta and to other ecclesiastical noblemen, the assembly of the Church pretended that “synagogues of Satan had been erected upon the patrimony of the Son of God.” These same priests pleaded the examples of Saint Ambrose and Saint Athanasius, who had refused places of worship to the Arian heresy, in order to demand the demolition of the new religious edifices. They insinuated that the presentation of the list of grievances to the king, proved the re-establishment of the political assemblies which were forbidden by the edicts; that the collections made in favour of the Vaudois of Piedmont, concealed a formidable conspiracy, and might be followed by warlike and dangerous enterprises; that the fortifications of some of the Huguenot places had been reconstructed, and that the town of Montauban, among others, was furnished with seventeen bastions. They accused the “apostates from the faith of their fathers” of aspiring to the most important dignities of the state; and their harangue ended with a pathetic appeal to the protection of the king; as if the (Roman) Catholic church of France had been reduced to the last extremity!

We have analyzed the speech of the orator of the clergy with some care, for it is from this moment that we must date a fresh period of persecutions and cruelty, that lasted until the Revocation [of the Edict of Nantes].

Mazarin did not accede to all that was demanded by the priests; for the war with Spain still continued, and it was still necessary to conciliate Cromwell. Nevertheless the council published a declaration designed to explain that of 1652, and which in effect annulled it. Things were again placed upon the same footing as in the time of Louis XIII. The exercise of the (Reformed) religion was forbidden in the places where it had been newly established; and to join, as it would appear, chicanery to violence, several decrees prohibited the ministers from taking the name of pastors, or of giving that of churches to their flocks.

A more important interdiction, already issued in 1631, was reproduced at this epoch, which went to deprive the pastors of the right of preaching in the quarters or annexed districts. To appreciate the extreme importance of the question, which threatened to suppress more than half the places of worship at one blow, it must be remembered that, according to the Edicts, the services of the Reformed religion could only be performed in a certain number of spots that had been fixed, commune by commune, name by name, within which it was lawful on the one hand, but criminal on the other [to celebrate divine worship].

But many of these communes comprised flocks either too small [in number] or too poor [in circumstances] to provide for the maintenance of a pastor. The faithful in such cases divided the burden by uniting, and one minister was charged with the care of all. This was the origin of the annexed districts.

It was not disputed that the right of preaching belonged to the communes within their respective boundaries, or at least it was not disputed directly; the letter of the Edicts had pronounced [that they had the right]. But the pastors were attacked. Had they the right of going beyond their place of residence? Were they free to unite two or three distinct flocks together? Called to one district, designated by name, could they serve others with it? As far as justice and common sense were concerned, there could have been no question [on the matter]; but for the intolerance of the priest, for the ill-will of the judge, for the hostile tendencies of the council, there was a question, and good care was taken not to let it drop.

This wretched quarrel for nearly forty years produced vexations upon vexations, suits upon suits, appeals upon appeals, the provincial synods commanding the pastors to maintain themselves in the possession of their annexed districts, and the legal authorities forbidding them to do so under pain of fines and imprisonment. For the most part, the evidence of right had to give way to sophisms supported by actual force.

The Parliaments of Toulouse, Rennes, Aix, and Poitiers, made themselves remarkable by the rigour and iniquity of their decrees. In every case of a Reformed and a (Roman) Catholic, of a pastor and a priest, of a place of worship and a church, of a consistory and an episcopal chapter, the heretical party was wrong, unless it had tenfold reason on its side, and its right was absolutely incontestable. These Parliaments interpreted the Edicts in such a manner that scarcely anything of them remained, and in criminal causes, the slightest evidence was sufficient to condemn the Religionists to excessive punishments.

How could the complaints of the Reformed reach the court? They might no more hold political assemblies. The council year after year refused the authority to hold a national synod, and the voice of a single deputy-general, who might be left to the churches, was disregarded. At length, in 1658, the provincial synods determined to send ten deputies to Paris, commissioned to submit their grievances to the king. Louis XIV. made them wait four months for an audience, and when he condescended to receive them, he said to them drily, “I will examine your statement, and will do you justice.” Cardinal Mazarin was even more formal. “The king will show by his acts,” he told the deputies, “the good-will he bears towards you; be assured that I speak to you sincerely.” Honeyed words, which were not believed!

All that the Reformers obtained, after the most persevering solicitations, was a vague promise that the king would observe the Edict of Nantes, “hoping that those of the pretended Reformed religion would render themselves worthy of this favour, by their good conduct, their fidelity, and their affection in his service.” The reply betrayed injurious suspicions, and the deputies did not conceal their chagrin. But the court retracted nothing; it only announced that commissioners from each religion should be sent into the provinces to watch over the execution of the Edicts. These commissioners entered upon their duties two or three years afterwards, and did the churches, as will be seen, much more harm than good.

In 1659, peace having been concluded with Spain, Mazarin conceded to the wishes of the Reformed so far as to grant them permission to convoke a general synod. It was opened at Loudun on the 10th of November, 1659, and was the last of the national synods, at least of such as had the approval of public authority.

One’s heart is filled with grief as the minutes of that assembly are read. Nothing but haughtiness, threats, accusations, and recrimination, appear on the side of the court; whilst on the side of the Reformers, it is all humility, abasement, and expression of gratitude,—gratitude for what? Doubtless for the evil that had not yet been done them!

At the opening of the synod, the royal commissioner, M. de la Magdelaine, addressed it, saying that the Reformed had great reason to admire the benignity of his majesty, who gave them the shelter of his royal authority.

He forbade them to make any complaint. “The king,” he continued, “has commanded me to tell you that he has much more reason to complain of the infractions and transgressions of the Edicts committed by his subjects of the pretended Reformed religion, and of the contempt they have manifested for them, for they have reached the supreme degree of insolence, even since his majesty has assumed the reins of government, for they recommenced preaching in Languedoc, in spite of its being prohibited, and not only in that province, but everywhere else, which they have done openly and boastingly.” It may be remarked that the same grievances based upon the same acts, had already been produced before the national synod of Charenton, fifteen years before, which proves that the court had not found a single new pretext for its reprimands.

The moderator of the assembly, Jean Daillé, thus answered these reproaches, in a submissive tone of voice: “We receive with all possible respect and humility, everything that is told us on the part of his majesty.” Then he showed that so far from having encroached upon the territory of the (Roman) Catholic church, the Reformers had in many places beheld their worship abolished and their places of worship razed.

The commissioner, acting upon the order of the court, pressed the assembly to hasten the close of its sittings, and gave them to understand that this would be the last of the national synods: “His majesty,” said he, “having considered that national synods cannot be holden unless at great expense and without causing much inconvenience and trouble to those who are deputed to [attend] them; and as, moreover, many affairs and matters may be settled more easily and at less cost in the provincial synods, the holding of which his majesty permits once every year for the conservation of the discipline of the pretended Reformed religion; for these reasons, gentlemen, his majesty has judged expedient that I should propose to you on his part to confer every power for the future upon these provincial synods.”

To have talked of the expense of a few thousand horses and the inconvenience of those who attended the national synods, in order to colour the violation of the Edict of Nantes, was a bitter mockery. Daillé answered, in the name of the assembly, that he hoped the king would not deprive them of his liberality. “Besides, the holding of these synods being,” added he, “of absolute necessity to us, we will very willingly bear all the expenses and all the inconveniences that we have to undergo for such an object.” The assembly then desired that “with the good pleasure of his majesty,” a new synod should be held at Nismes, after an interval of three years.

Louis XIV. did not grant that permission, and from the 10th of January, 1660, when the synod of Loudun terminated its session, the presbyterian organization of the French Reformation continued headless. Forcible state reasons had arisen for suppressing political assemblies; none but the most frivolous pretexts could be alleged for prohibiting the convocation of the national synods. But with the maxims of intolerance, the ruin of the former was certain to require the destruction of the latter. Royalty had broken up the Huguenot party, and the priesthood now made it crush the religious community.

The first national synod was held in 1559; the nineteenth and last met a century afterwards. If the Reformers suffered in 1559, they had the hope of conquering the kingdom. In 1659, they still suffered, but they had no longer any hopes of this kind. Descartes had appeared, and the field of the struggle against (Roman) Catholicism, at least in France, had begun to change.

X.

Whilst the French Reformation was a prey to so many harassing troubles, it gained honour before Europe and with posterity, by the learning of its doctors. This was the great epoch of its theology. Germany, so justly proud of its immense labours in this branch of human knowledge, still cites these theologians of the seventeenth century with respect. The majority possessed, indeed, that solidity of judgment, together with a profound and vast erudition, that clearness of view, that skilful connection of proofs, in short, that precision of style, which distinguish the good French writers in every class of literature.

We shall only here name the most eminent of the doctors or pastors of the Reformed churches. The history of their ideas and their writings does not belong to our subject.

The academy of Montauban was at this time celebrated for the orthodoxy of its doctrines, and the reputation of its professors. Among them, may be mentioned Daniel Chamier, Michel Bérault, and Antoine Garissoles.

Chamier had a genius for statesmanship, as well as for the theological sciences. He had a great share in framing the Edict of Nantes. The courtiers, who did not like him, because he was proof against their seductions, ranked him among the “fools of the synod.”

He held at Nismes, in 1600, a famous discussion with Father Cotton, the confessor of Henry IV. Nothing could be more opposite than the two antagonists. The one, a rigid dialectician, went from syllogism to syllogism, straight to the mark; the other abounded in rhetorical figures and brilliant digressions. The Jesuit had the advantage of dazzling his auditors, but the Reformed theologian had the gift of convincing them, and victory remained with him.

The national synods invited him to refute the writings of Bellarmine, which he did in a Latin work of four folio volumes, entitled: Panstratie Catholique, ou Ordre universel de Bataille. He intended to publish a fifth volume upon the question of the church, but was prevented by death. This is the most complete controversial book of the French Reformation. “Chamier,” says a modern German theologian, “has profoundly penetrated into the examination of the (Roman) Catholic doctrine. He attacks it with considerable force and sagacity, seeking his proofs, by turns, from Scripture, the Fathers, tradition, history, and philosophy. The work is not prolix, in spite of its great length; it is singularly full, rich and abundant.”[82]

Chamier was killed by a cannon-ball at the siege of Montauban, on Sunday, the 10th of October, 1621. He had visited the ramparts to address some exhortations to the soldiers, who had not been able to attend divine service.

His grandson, an advocate at Montélimart, was broken on the wheel alive, in 1683, for having been present at a religious assembly, which was called seditious, because it defended itself against the dragoons of Louis XIV.

Michel Bérault was a learned and skilful theologian, on the testimony of Scaliger. He was chosen to dispute against Duperron in the Conference of Nantes, and published, in answer to the assertions of that bishop, a book upon the “Vocation of the Ministers of the Gospel.” But his character was more ardent than became a man of his cloth. The royal commissioner demanded his exclusion from the national synod of Charenton, because he had in his writings justified the last resort to arms. Without obeying this injunction, the assembly deemed it incumbent upon them to censure Bérault before admitting him to take his seat.

Garissoles (born in 1587, died in 1650) had as much disinterestedness as piety; and when the professors of Montauban quitted their post, because the suppression of the royal pensions prevented their payment, he alone continued to discharge the duties of his office.

His book, Imputation du Péché original (“The Imputation of original Sin”), obtained a great success. The evangelical cantons of Switzerland, to whom Garissoles had dedicated it, rewarded him by the gift of four silver cups of splendid workmanship, with a letter signed by the principal magistrates. He also composed a Latin epic poem, L’Adolphide, in which he celebrated the services that Gustavus Adolphus had rendered to the Reformation.

The academy of Montauban subsisted in that town until 1661. It was then transferred elsewhere, and soon ruined, for motives so puerile that they are almost beneath the gravity of history.

The buildings of the theological college, having been erected at the expense of the Reformed population, belonged to them by the most legitimate title. Notwithstanding this, the Jesuits, after the Edict of Grace, succeeded in procuring an award to themselves of a part of it for their own lectures, and not content with half, they sought means of invading the rest, by ousting the real owners.

One day, therefore, they obstructed the court and principal avenues of the edifice, on the occasion of a theatrical piece appointed to be represented by their scholars. The students of the Reformed communion arrived at the usual hour, and found no passage or outlet by which they could reach their lecture-rooms. The youths being irritated, grew angry, and overturned the scaffoldings of the Jesuits, not without some acts of violence, as may be conceived, between the scholars of the two parties. Great complaints, denunciations, and calumnies were immediately made to the court. This foolish matter was transformed into a state-offence, and a lettre de cachet[83] soon commended the delivery of the whole college to the reverend Fathers.

The people of Montauban became displeased in their turn, and crowded tumultuously round the door of one of their places of worship where the Notables had assembled, at the invitation of the consuls, to deliberate upon this affair. Fresh denunciations, more exaggerated and blacker still than the preceding [were uttered, asserting that] it was a vast plot:—the signal of a general revolt of the heretics, of whom the people of Montauban were the advanced guard. Mazarin was then on his death-bed, and Louis XIV. was engaged with his court fêtes. The Jesuits had the direction of everything with the queen-mother, Anne d’Autriche, who was devoted to their cause.

In short, for a few broken planks, and a little clamouring at a popular meeting, Montauban was treated as a rebellious city. Some thousands of soldiers were billeted upon the townspeople. The remains of the walls were overthrown. Several inhabitants were condemned to death, others were banished, and the greater number ruined. Consuls of the religion were no longer [permitted to reside in the town]. The academy was transferred to Puy-Laurens, where it only vegetated; and Montauban, subjected to a government of terror, was speedily depopulated. It was supposed that Louis XIV. consented the more easily to this conduct of the Jesuits, because he was glad [of an opportunity] to avenge the affront which Louis XIII. had suffered before the ramparts of Montauban, at the siege of 1620: he punished the children for the heroic resistance of their fathers.

The academy of Saumur, founded by Mornay, had also a high reputation. It was more open than that of Montauban to the new ideas. Its professors, Cameron, Amyraut, Cappel, and La Place, taught doctrines, which were a sort of compromise or transition between Calvinism and Arminianism.

John Cameron (1579-1625), a Scotchman by birth, belonged to French theology by his studies, his lectures, and his writings. After having been pastor at Bordeaux, he replaced Gomar in the chair of theology at Saumur, and also brought there other opinions. He was a man of learning and judgment, and well acquainted with philosophy; but he was little versed in the study of the Fathers, and given to attack, on all occasions, the books of Theodore de Bèze. He spoke of many things in the received doctrines that required correction; though his lectures, printed in 1626, do not clearly indicate what changes he had in view.

He had, as we have said elsewhere, some differences with the court, and sought refuge in England; but he was permitted to return to the country of his adoption. The national synod of Castres, granted a pension of seven hundred livres to his children, “in testimony of the honour in which his memory [was held].”

Moïse Amyraut (1596-1664), the most illustrious of the disciples of Cameron, was accused before the national synod of Alençon, of teaching opinions contrary to the confession of faith. Numerous letters from Holland and Geneva taxed him with a disguised plagiarism.

It is not our duty to relate these theological debates. It may suffice to mention that the learned professor of Saumur had enunciated a system, to which the name of hypothetical universalism was given, by way of opposition to the doctrine of the particularists. Amyraut taught that Jesus Christ’s death was sufficient for all men, but that he died efficaciously for the elect alone. He propounded also a universal predestination in a certain sense; nevertheless, he defended himself from the reproach of having adopted the principles of the Arminians, and even published a profession of faith against them.

The moderator of the synod, Benjamin Basnage, on hearing his apology, offered him the hand of fellowship, as well as to Testard, a pastor of Blois, who was accused of having adopted the same sentiments. The dispute was nevertheless renewed in the third synod of Charenton; but the assembly imposed silence on both parties, and forbade any further differences upon these questions, which it declared to be useless for the work of salvation.

Amyraut was charged by the last national synod with the compilation of the decisions concerning ecclesiastical discipline, and received from that assembly the most honourable marks of confidence. He had been long before reconciled to most of his adversaries.

Nearly forty works of his are extant upon matters of theology and edification. His paraphrases on the Bible were much approved. His Morale Chrétienne, dedicated to M. Villarnoul, of the family of Duplessis-Mornay, is the work of a man who had made himself thoroughly acquainted with the Bible, the human heart, and the world. “My purpose,” he says, “is to construct a code of Christian morality, in which I may build, upon the foundations of nature, the teachings which have been given us by Revelation.”

Amyraut did not simply possess the knowledge of the theologian; he had a cultivated mind, a lively and engaging conversation, agreeable manners, and a character which begot universal good-will. The cardinals Richelieu and Mazarin always showed him marks of great regard. He was exceedingly charitable, and during the last ten years of his life, distributed the revenues of his appointment of pastor to the poor of both communions.

His colleague, Louis Cappel (1585-1658), was one of the first Hebraïsts of his age. He propounded a system upon the use of the vowel-points in the original Hebrew, which excited great opposition, and his Critique Sacrée, published after his death, still more increased the number of his opponents, because he was accused of raising doubts upon the universally received text of the Old Testament.

Another colleague of Amyraut, Josué de la Place (1596-1655), drew up a great portion of the Thèses de Saumur, which were an object of considerable attention in the theological discussions of his times. He held peculiar opinions upon the imputation of the sin of Adam. Man, according to this doctor, while bearing the burden of original sin, is not responsible for it before God, as if he had himself fallen in the first transgression.

Etienne Gaussen, who died in 1675, filled the chair of philosophy at Saumur. One of his books treats of the use of philosophy in theology. There is also a judicious treatise of his upon the Art of Professorship, and an interesting dissertation upon the way to direct theological studies. His works, written in Latin, have been well received in Germany and Holland. A sixth edition was printed at Halle, in 1727, and they have since been republished. Burmann, Franke, Staeudlin, and other theologians, speak of him with much commendation.

At the academy of Sedan, Pierre Dumoulin professed a severe orthodoxy to his last day. He died at the age of ninety years (1568-1658).

Dumoulin had been saved, when scarcely four years old, from the massacre of Saint Bartholomew, through the devotion of a servant. Nominated to a pastorship at Charenton, in 1599, he edified the faithful of Paris under the reign of Henry IV. But the Jesuits took advantage of a letter that he had written to the king of England, in 1621, to obtain a warrant for his arrest, and he fled to Sedan, a town independent of France at that time. His universally revered character procured a joyful welcome for him. The national synod of Castres in vain solicited Louis XIII. for his recall; the Jesuits determinately opposed it. He had maintained a sharp controversy against them, on the occasion of a sermon, in which the Father Arnoux pretended that the confession of faith of the Reformed, was in no way sanctioned by the Scriptural texts indicated at the conclusion of the articles, This accusation having attracted considerable attention, Dumoulin, in concert with the pastors of Charenton, published a Defence of the Reformed Churches of France. The dedicatory epistle, addressed to Louis XIII., did not spare the disciples of Loyola. “They cannot suffer,” said Dumoulin, “a king, although Roman Catholic, if he be not a persecutor of his subjects, and if he do not set fire to his kingdom.”

The Jesuits laid an information against the book, against the author, against the printer, and even against the readers. The sentence pronounced severe penalties against all who should read the work, or have it in their houses.

Pierre Dumoulin laboured much during his long career. We count no less than seventy-three works from his pen, amongst which the most popular were Le Boucher de la Foi, L’Anatomie de la Messe, and Les Décades des Sermons. His style of preaching was, at the same time, grave and familiar; if he was deficient in classic elegance, he bore the impress of a vigorous originality, which reveals the intimate life of the preacher.

When his approaching death was announced to that venerable pastor: “Oh! how good of you,” he exclaimed, “to impart such news to me! Welcome, death, I rejoice at thy coming! At length my aspirations will be fulfilled; I shall be happy in the sight of my God!”

Another professor of Sedan, Louis Leblanc de Beaulieu, (1615-1675), maintained the renown of that academy, without entertaining doctrines so strictly Calvinist as those of Dumoulin. His mind, to use the expression of his adversary Nicole, was extraordinarily clear and well adapted for unravelling complicated questions.

Leblanc endeavoured, not to unite the two communions, but to approximate them to each other, by demonstrating that many of their differences only rose upon verbal disputes. He also tried to establish a solid peace between the Calvinists, the Arminians, and the Lutherans. These efforts brought upon him the charge of latitudinarianism. Pious men, nevertheless, did full justice to the sincerity of his convictions and to the rectitude of his character, and the severe Jurieu defended him after his death against inconsiderate attacks.

His knowledge and his modesty were equally great. The collection of his Thèses forms an almost complete treatise of dogmatic science: four editions were published in the course of a few years.

Without being so celebrated as the others, the academy of Nismes reckoned several meritorious professors. We have already cited Samuel Petit (1594-1643), who was appointed in 1627 to the three chairs of Theology, Greek, and Hebrew, at the same time.

Petit had a profound acquaintance with the Oriental languages. Having one day entered the synagogue of Avignon, he heard the Rabbi pronounce in Hebrew injurious expressions against Christians. The learned professor immediately answered him in the same tongue, and without expressing the least resentment, exhorted the Jewish doctor to become better acquainted with the faith he attacked. The disconcerted Rabbi apologised.

A cardinal had conceived so much esteem for Samuel Petit, that he offered to throw open the doors of the library of the Vatican to him, and to procure for him the appointment of revising the manuscripts. The professor refused. He might have found learning in the archives of Rome; but he would have lost what he esteemed still more—liberty of conscience.

Petit has left divers works upon chronology and philosophy. He also laboured to elucidate the antiquities of the Old and New Testament. His character was kind, and he was more bent upon doing good, than upon raising questions of controversy.

XI.

Beside the professors of the universities, the French Reformation owned, in the seventeenth century, learned and hard-working pastors, who equally claim a short notice.

André Rivet (1572-1651) exercised the pastoral functions in France to the age of forty-seven, presided over the national synod of Vitré, in 1617, and was then a professor of theology in Holland. His Introduction to the Study of the Bible lays down the true basis of sacred criticism. The author insists that we must seek, not an allegorical or convenient sense in the Scriptures, but the exact and real sense—that which results naturally from the terms of the original text.

Rivet was extremely severe in his doctrines, and sometimes violent in his polemics; but he preserved a constant moderation in his private life. “Adverse events, whether public or otherwise,” says the author of his Last Hours, never surprised him, or disturbed his serenity. He was accustomed to say: “Everything is possible; I wonder at nothing.” Thus he never burst into laughter; for he looked upon all mundane things as mutable and transitory.

Edme Aubertin (1595-1652) had particularly studied the Fathers. He published a book in 1633, upon the Eucharist of the Ancient Church, in which he sought to prove that the doctrine of the Real Presence was unknown during the first six centuries of the Christian era. This work was denounced to the privy council; but it was more easy to condemn than to refute it. “That great and incomparable work L’Eucharistie” says the son of Jean Daillé, “has outlived all the attacks of the other communion, no one of whom has ventured into open war with it, or, so to speak, dared to meet it tête-à-tête” (face to face).

In his last moments, the door of his apartment was forced by the curate of Saint Sulpice, escorted by a commissary of police and the mob. Edme Aubertin awakened by the tumult, and gathering his presence of mind, declared with a firm voice that he died in the Reformed faith.

Benjamin Basnage (1580-1652) was commissioned, both by the political assemblies and the national synods, with missions as important as they were delicate. The court, which feared his credit, would have prevented him from taking his place at the national synod of Charenton in 1630. He has written, besides several controversial treatises, an approved work upon the Visible and Invisible State of the Church. We shall have to speak in the following book of his illustrious grandson, Jacques Basnage.

David Blondel (1591-1655) was more conversant with ecclesiastical history than any other man of his time. Prodigies are related of his memory: he had read everything, and had forgotten nothing. Having become blind, he dictated two volumes in folio upon difficult points of chronology and antiquity. The national synods conferred the title of honorary professor upon him, without attaching him to any academy, and all the provinces subscribed an annual pension for his maintenance at Paris.

Blondel combatted the pretension of the Roman See to the primacy, the false Decretals, and the Sybilline oracles. His good faith equalled his erudition; he was blamed by some of the older Huguenots for having contradicted the legend of Pope Joan, to which they clung with great prejudice.

Samuel Bochart (1599-1667) was a pastor at Caen, and enjoyed there the respect of all the people of worth. “He was,” says Bayle, “one of the most learned men the world has seen. But his knowledge, however vast it might be, was not his principal quality; his modesty is infinitely more to be esteemed than all his learning. Hence the ease with which he has worn his glory.”

Bochart has won an imperishable name by his Phaleg, the Canaan, and the Hierozoïcon—three works which treat, one of the dispersion of the primitive tribes, the two others of the topography, and of the animals mentioned in the Bible. They are still standard books upon these subjects. The German doctor Michaëlis, who followed a century after, profited considerably by the labours of Bochart, and the Hierozoïcon was reprinted, in 1793, by Professor Rosenmüller.

Nearly all the pastors of Charenton or of Paris (for they resided at the last city) were learned theologians, as well as distinguished preachers.

Michel Le Faucheur, who died in 1657, has left some volumes of sermons, which still deserve our study. We owe to him also a treatise on the Action of the Orator, which was attributed to Conrart, secretary to the French academy. The second national synod of Charenton returned express thanks to Le Faucheur for his reply to Cardinal Duperron, concerning the doctrine of the Eucharist, and had it printed at the cost of the churches.

Jean Mestrezat (1592-1657) was but eighteen years old when he was offered a professorship of philosophy: he had scarcely completed his theological studies, when he was appointed pastor at Charenton—a remarkable distinction which was awarded to no one else.

He defeated a Jesuit before the regent Anne d’Autriche, and the princess was so astonished and dismayed by the force of his arguments, that she ordered that the report of this disputation should not be printed.

In an audience he had with Louis XIII., Cardinal de Richelieu asked him, among other things, why the Reformed called foreigners to their ministry? “It is to be wished,” replied Mestrezat, “that so many Italian monks, who are in France had the same zeal for his majesty as these stranger pastors, who recognize no other sovereign than the king.” At these words Cardinal de Richelieu exclaimed, tapping him on the shoulder: “This is the boldest minister in all France.”

The treatises of Mestrezat upon the Scriptures and upon the Church, show him to have been one of the most skilful doctors of the Reformed. His sermons, which may be always read with advantage, are above all remarkable for their correctness and depth of reasoning.

Charles Drelincourt (1595-1669) was the model of a true pastor. He lived a life of faith and prayer, of charity and devotion, employing the day in visiting his flock, and his evenings in meditation and composition. On the 27th of October, 1669, he was still preaching in the places of worship at Charenton—the following Sunday he had ceased to live. To him might be applied the words which he has put into the mouth of a pastor at the end of his Visites Charitables: “I have long lived; I have long preached; I am not weary of serving so good a Master, so liberal a Lord.”

The contemporaries of Drelincourt agree in saying that no other minister at Charenton knew better how to lead the erring back, to strengthen the weak, to exhort the lukewarm, to comfort the poor, and to console the unhappy.

His works of edification and polemics have a popular character, which made them welcome to every house in his age, and has prolonged the life of some of them even till now. It has been already seen that no adversary was more dreaded by the converters than he, and that he had armed in the most solid manner the simple and the illiterate against their sophisms by his Abrégé des Controverses. The other works of Drelincourt, which have been most frequently reprinted, are his Préparation à la Sainte Cène, his Visites Charitables, and his Consolations contre la Mort. This last book has been translated into all the languages of Europe, and has been reproduced in more than fifty editions.

Drelincourt addressed these consolations to himself: “I pray God,” said one of his friends to him in his last illness, “that He may change your bed of infirmity into a bed of health.” “My bed of health and of rest,” he answered, “will be in heaven.”

Jean Daillé (1595-1670), of the same age as Drelincourt, was long his colleague at Paris, and followed him quickly to the grave. Prudent and reserved as well as pious, he acquired general esteem, without ever swerving in his convictions or his duties.

Educated from an early age, in the house of Duplessis-Mornay, and having afterwards travelled through the principal European states, he quickly displayed a mature intelligence. Daillé’s first essay in authorship, was a master-piece, L Usage des Pères.[84] He ascribes to these venerable doctors all that they are entitled to, without surrendering the sovereign authority which he accords to the Bible in anything. His Apologie des Eglises Réformées is (also) firm without being offensive. Truth is apparent throughout, [combined] with charity. The author’s purpose was to answer those who accused the Reformed of having sundered Catholic unity, and while he acknowledged that division is a great evil, he proves there are cases where it is the first of duties.

The biographer of Jean Daillé has (many) interesting details of his mode of life and study. “His books and his studies,” says he, “constituted his chief recreation and delight. They afforded him recreation from his work, and at the same time pleasure and profit; and it was in them that he sought rest after the wearisome occupations of the day. His industry was very great; and as he rose early, he gained five or six clear hours. It is not astonishing, therefore, that he found leisure to produce so much, for he was a man who profited by everything, and who never read a book, however contemptible it might be, without making extracts from it, which he well knew how to use at the proper time and place.”

About the year 1660, some younger pastors of no less merit began to appear, such as Dubosc, Larroque, Ancillon, and Claude.

Pierre Dubosc, born at Bayeux, in 1623, has been pronounced as the greatest preacher of the Reformed in the seventeenth century. “It may be said without flattery,” writes Elie Benoit, “that he had all the gifts necessary to constitute a Christian preacher. He had a mind enlightened by the knowledge of literature. He was a good philosopher, a sound theologian, and a judicious critic. His personal appearance also was favourable; his voice was both powerful and sweet, and his action pleasing.”[85]

The church of Charenton made many urgent requests, in 1658, to draw him to Paris. Marshal Turenne, the Marquis de la Force, and other illustrious persons, joined their solicitations [for this purpose]. But Dubosc refused to leave the church of Caen, his maxim being, that a minister cannot quit his flock with a good conscience, until he has obtained their express consent.

When this appeal was renewed in 1670, the archbishop of Paris went so far as to implore the king three times in the same week, to prevent the nomination of Dubosc, as if he dared not trust the cause of (Roman) Catholicism to the eloquence of Bourdaloue and Bossuet.

The Jesuits of Normandy, jealous of his fame, accused Dubosc of having spoken of confession in derogatory terms, and procured his banishment to Châlons in 1664. He did not remain there many months, thanks to the good offices of some powerful protectors.

Dubosc was often deputed by the oppressed churches to Louis XIV. He was commissioned in 1668 to seek from him the maintenance of the edicts. On first hearing him, Louis was inattentive and absorbed with other thoughts. But gradually he listened, and evinced signs of satisfaction. The demeanour, the voice, the grave, yet easy air, the eloquent words of the orator completely triumphed over the repugnance with which Louis had been inspired against all the heretic ministers. “Madam,” he said to the queen after the audience, “I have just heard the best speaker in my kingdom.” And turning to his courtiers [he added], “It is certain that I have never heard any one speak so well.”

Pierre Dubosc was banished by the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, and died in a land of exile in 1692.

Matthieu de Larroque (1619-1684) had the happiness of closing his eyes amidst his flock, on the eve of his sentence of banishment. He had also been called by the church of Charenton in 1669, but the king forbade the prosecution of the summons, notwithstanding the representations of the general deputy Ruvigny. Other churches, Vitré, Saumur, Montauban, and Bordeaux, disputed the privilege of possessing a man of so much merit and learning. Larroque wrote a History of the Eucharist, which disturbed the imaginary triumph of the controversialists of Port Royal on this subject.

David Ancillon (1617-1692) possessed great theological knowledge; unhappily, he has written but little. Called, in the first instance, to minister to the church of Meaux, he won universal good-will. “What gained him the affection of all,” says his son, “were his life without reproach and his deep and simple piety. The humblest of his friends were always sure of his exertions in their behalf; and while his good offices were open to all, no difference of religion made any [change] in his behaviour to any one. He softened and tamed the Roman ecclesiastics of the diocese, and lived upon friendly terms with them; by which means he preserved peace and concord among all the inhabitants.”

His preaching appears to have possessed singular attraction. He meditated and composed his sermons with great care, although he published but one—The Tears of Saint Paul. Ancillon was in the habit of saying, “that it was showing too little esteem for the public, to take no pains in preparation, and that a man, who should appear on a ceremonial day in his night-cap and dressing-gown, would not commit a greater breach of civility.”

He was a pastor at Metz at the time of the Revocation; and when he embarked, with his three colleagues, in the vessel which was to bear him from his native land, all the faithful assembled on the shore, and watched his departure with tears and sobs. Many followed him into exile. David Ancillon met with a favourable reception at Berlin from the elector of Brandenburg, and became the head of the illustrious family which has done so much honour to the French name in Germany.

Jean Claude, the last of the eminent pastors of Charenton, was born in 1619, at La Salvetat, in Rouergue. Claude was a pious man, a learned theologian, a skilful preacher, a wise and cautious writer, and being, moreover, endowed with a judgment and presence of mind that never failed, he was more capable than any one of opposing the champions of the (Roman) Catholic church; and without pretending that his genius was equal to that of Bossuet, it may be doubted whether he has not excelled him in soundness of learning and force of reasoning.

His name will reappear more than once in the course of this history. After exercising the pastoral function in Languedoc, where he displayed considerable energy, he was called to Charenton in 1666. He there took the first place after the death of Drelincourt and Daillé, without contest. “M. Claude,” says his biographer, Ladevèze, “particularly shone as president of an assembly. He appeared in this position for several years in the Consistory of Charenton; as well as in more than one synod of the Isle of France, where he was moderator. However complicated might be the matters submitted to the synod, and however disguised by ignorance or party manœuvres, M. Claude had so exact a spirit of discernment, that he unravelled all this chaos in a moment.”

It would be easy to extend the list of doctors and pastors, who have acquired a name in the French Reformation during the seventeenth century. They generally preceded the great defenders of the (Roman) Catholic communion,—Arnauld, Nicole, Bossuet,—and in a degree, compelled their appearance. Why were such flourishing studies arrested by persecution? Why were men, who bore with so firm a hand the glorious burden of Calvin and Theodore de Bèze, driven to waste their pens upon their miserably dispersed places of worship and academies? This was indeed a disgrace to the Church of Rome and a misfortune for France.

XII.

We now resume the chain of events, of which the picture will be both sad and sorrowful. We will soften the outlines, but not efface them; for we are writing history. We may collect the lesson, that intolerance stands upon a slippery precipice, from which, the moment she has made a slip, she is dragged from iniquity to iniquity, and from violence to violence, until she reaches the most atrocious excesses—a moral which perhaps is not absolutely useless, even at this day.

Mazarin died in 1661; his death was a loss to the Reformed. Although he inspired them with little confidence, and was not friendly to them, this cardinal preferred the use of stratagem to that of force; and as he sought to support his foreign policy by the Protestant power, he dared not impose too hard a yoke upon the French Calvinists.

After his decease, Louis XIV. resolved to govern alone, and persecution increased. Not that this prince was naturally cruel; had he been so, he would have restrained himself out of respect for his own greatness; but he had been educated in hatred of the Huguenots. Other motives, which we shall explain, intervened later to strengthen the prejudices of his childhood, and the obliteration of heresy was one of the fixed ideas of his reign. He may have varied as to the means, have faltered between the course of persuasion and that of persecution, have even seemed to retrace his steps, and to defer until more favourable opportunities the execution of this great undertaking; but through all these fluctuations and adjournments, his object never changed.

In 1661 commissioners were nominated in each province to examine into the real or pretended violation of the Edict of Nantes, and to re-establish peace between the two communions. One of these commissioners was a (Roman) Catholic, the other a Calvinist. This measure would have been excellent, if the agents for carrying it out had enjoyed the same rights, and the authority whose duty it was to decide ultimately, had been impartial between them. It was however quite otherwise, and that which was intended as a guarantee to the Reformed, became a fresh source of troubles and iniquities.

The (Roman) Catholic commissioner appointed to each general district, was generally a man of consideration, holding a seat in Parliament, or even in the king’s council, and was known for his entire devotion to the interests of the Romish church. The Calvinist commissioner, on the contrary, with very rare exceptions, was either some poor gentleman ignorant of business, or some ambitious individual secretly sold to the court, and nominated by the intendants, sometimes even by the bishops, expressly to betray his duty. The first had all the power that accompanies a state religion; the second, all the weakness of a religion scarcely tolerated. One spoke with authority, invoking the name of the king; the other spoke with humility, in the name of the poor oppressed, whose fears he shared.

The commissioners were instructed to ascertain the rights of exercising worship in the contested districts. But as many churches had no authentic titles, either because they had never supposed that these documents would become necessary, or because they had been lost during the religious wars, they could only maintain their right by actual possession and traditional notoriety. Constant quibbling was the consequence of this—in order to defeat the claims of the churches. The syndics of the (Roman) Catholic clergy were admitted to interfere in these disputes, and sought to invade everything; and when there was any disagreement between the two commissioners, the matter was decided by the council, whose aim was to restrict the Huguenots to the narrowest limits; or by the intendants, who had no other object than that of paying their court to Louis XIV.

It is impossible to count in how many districts the exercise of the Reformed religion was interdicted, how many places of worship were razed, schools suppressed, charitable establishments confiscated for the benefit of the (Roman) Catholics, and how many individuals also experienced crying injustice, however incontestable might be their rights. This would fill volumes.

Some Jesuits and others published lengthy writings, in which, under pretence of interpreting the Edict of Nantes, they demolished it piecemeal. The more skilful they showed themselves in the invention of new sophisms against the execution of the law, the more they thought they deserved from their church. The priest Soulier, author of an Explanation of the Edict of Nantes, unintentionally confesses this in his dedicatory epistle to the bishops: “I shall esteem myself too fortunate, sirs,” says he, “if I can second the zeal of your daily labours, after the example of the greatest of kings, for the extinction of heresy.” The explanation was at all events designed, right or wrong, to extinguish heresy.

These writings were sent to the council, to the parliaments, to the procurators-general, and the intendants, who, without approving the whole of their contents, furnished themselves with weapons out of these great arsenals of the Jesuit school, and never failed to use them when they could do so with any decency.

In 1663 the clergy obtained, at the instance of their General Assembly, a declaration against those who relapsed, that is to say, against those who returned to the Reformed communion, after having abjured. “These people could no longer pretend,” the preamble stated, “to the benefit of the Edict of Nantes, since they had renounced, and by returning to the heresy, had incurred the guilt of the enormous crime of profanation against the sacred mysteries of the (Roman) Catholic religion.” The ordinance consequently pronounced against them the penalty of perpetual banishment. This declaration is regarded by Rulhières, and other historians, as the first direct attack upon the Edict of Nantes, and the first decisive step in the path of revocation.

There were at that time a certain number of individuals, who went from the Reformed to the (Roman) Catholic communion, without well knowing why, and without any serious intention of remaining. Some gave way to threats, others to momentary seductions, others to weakness, or the natural inconstancy of their minds. It was, in the first place, a great error, to admit them so lightly into the Church of Rome, and some Jansenist bishops, more scrupulous than the others, complained of it. It was a still greater error to seek to retain them there by terror.

But the clergy went farther; they set themselves to invent, and to create backsliders. Attendance at mass for three or four Sundays, the blessing of a priest in a mixed marriage, a confidential avowal to a (Roman) Catholic of a leaning towards his religion, a conjecture, an appearance, a hearsay, or some mention of abjuring fifteen or twenty years before—all these were transformed into acts of (Roman) Catholicism, and if the pretended convert placed foot again within a heretic place of worship, he was dragged before the tribunals as a relapsed person.

So many abuses, and such grave troubles resulted from this, that a new declaration, published in 1664, decreed the nullity of all the procedures begun upon the subject. Yet the law was only suspended; and it was afterwards resumed with the addition of cruel aggravations.

In the month of May, 1665, an ordinance of the council authorized the curates, and all the ecclesiastics of the Romish church generally, to present themselves with a magistrate at the domicile of sick persons, to ask if they were willing to die in their heresy, or to be converted to the true religion. It is easy to imagine the double scenes of grief and scandal that would ensue, whenever the priest was a fanatic and the magistrate compliant. It was no longer possible to live or to die in peace, out of the Roman communion.

Paternal authority was also destined to be severely attacked. Without speaking of the crimes of abduction that were committed in many places, frequently with the most complete impunity, children were declared, by a decree of the 24th of October, 1665, to be capable of embracing (Roman) Catholicism; boys at fourteen years of age, girls at twelve, and parents were under the obligation of providing them with an alimentary allowance to maintain them out of their houses.

The Reformed complained bitterly of this law, and what was more strange, the bishops and commissioners-general of the clergy complained of it also. They told the chancellor that their conscience did not permit them to allow so much power to the hands of heretic fathers, and that children, being responsible for their acts before the age of fourteen or of twelve years, it ought to be permitted to receive them into the true church as soon as they desired it. The chancellor discussed the matter with them for form’s sake; and at the conclusion of the audience said to them: “The king has done his duty, you will do yours.”

The abjurations of many children were in fact received before the specified age; and when the parents had recourse to legal proceedings, the advocates-general decided that there was a great difference between exciting by “inducing” children to change religion, and receiving them with open arms, when they presented themselves by a sort of inspiration from heaven. Some years after, a new law, of which we shall speak, sanctioned these attacks against the most sacred rights of families.

The ordinances against blasphemers, and in particular against those accused of outraging the honour, the purity, and the holiness of the Virgin Mary, were confirmed. This gave rise to a host of prosecutions as extravagant as they were barbarous.

The sermons of the pastors were collected by spies in the pay of the Jesuits, and if there were found any terms, however slight, against the teachings of (Roman) Catholicism, these pastors were cited before the tribunals under the accusation of blasphemy. Many individuals were exposed to the same treatment, and (Roman) Catholics who were at law with the Reformed, were often found to tax them with some blasphemy, for the purpose of gaining an undue advantage over the adverse party.

It daily became more difficult for the Reformed to obtain admission to public offices. They had been at first kept out of high employments; access to the less important places was next closed, and by degrees they were debarred from the very smallest, unless in the towns and cantons where they still retained the majority. In many provinces, a profession of the (Roman) Catholic faith was exacted from simple artisans before they could obtain a license to pursue their calling.

Even the corporation of laundresses at Paris laid a remonstrance before the council, that their community having been instituted by Saint Louis, could not admit heretics, and this reclamation was gravely confirmed (singular monument of folly!) by a decree of the 21st of August, 1665. It was thereupon remarked that these washerwomen had in their corporation many abandoned women, of whom they did not complain, and that they disturbed themselves much more about heresy than about evil manners. The example had been set them, it is true, by the priests, by the court, and particularly by Louis XIV.

Colbert, however, persisted in employing the Reformed in financial employments. A Protestant from Germany, Bartholomew Herward, had been appointed intendant of the finances under the ministry of Mazarin, notwithstanding the opposition of the commissioners of the clergy, authentically signified to the chancellor. Herward next became comptroller-general. “He favoured those of his religion,” says Elie Benoit; “the finances became the refuge of the Reformed, to whom all other employments were refused. They entered into the farms and commissions, and made themselves so necessary in affairs of this nature, that even Fouquet and Colbert could not dispense with them, and were forced to retain them as people of proved fidelity, and of acknowledged capacity.”[86]

Colbert, in fact, relied upon their spirit of order, economy, and probity, and cared very little about their religion, provided the people in his service were but honest. Rulhières has a curious remark upon this subject in his Eclaircissements historiques: “The fact is, that the financiers then enjoyed general esteem for the first time; they were not attacked either by Molière, Lafontaine, or Boileau. This silence of the satirists about the financiers, during the period, in which the greatest number of these offices were filled by Protestants,” Rulhières adds, “is it not infinitely honourable to them?”[87]

Others of them being excluded from offices of state, and even of the municipal magistracy, had betaken themselves to arts and manufactures, agriculture and industry, a new title of recommendation to the protection of Colbert. But this great minister of state soon succumbed before the will of his master, for under Louis XIV. genius did not relieve any one from the duty of being a courtier.

Together with the violence of the council and of the tribunals, the Reformed had to endure those puerile vexations and petty annoyances from which intolerance can never free itself. They were prohibited, among other things, from singing psalms either on land or water, in their workshops or at their house-doors. If a procession happened to pass while they were singing in their places of worship, they had to stop. Their burials could take place only at break of day, or at nightfall, and not more than ten persons were permitted to participate in the funeral, except at Castres, Montauban, Nismes, and in towns of the same order, where the presence of thirty persons was authorized. It was not lawful for the Reformed to marry unless at the times fixed by the canons of the (Roman) Catholic church; and the nuptial procession might not exceed, parents included, the number of twelve persons.

The rich churches were interdicted from contributing to the support of ministers for the poor churches. It was considered a crime in the consistories to pronounce censures against those, who placed their children in the colleges of the Jesuits. The pastors lost the right of taking the title of doctors of theology, and the king forbade them, under penalty of a fine of three hundred livres, to wear the cassock and long robe elsewhere than in their places of worship. They might speak and pray in the hospitals only in whispers, lest they should offend the ears of the (Roman) Catholics.

Notwithstanding all this, the bishop of Uzès, the orator of the general assembly of the clergy, declared to the king, in 1665, that “it behoved him to labour with greater ardour for the entire extirpation (such were his words) of the redoubtable monster of heresy.” He asked, besides, that liberty of conscience should be taken away from the (Roman) Catholics, that is to say, that it should be no longer permissible for them to leave the Roman church, adding that twenty-two dioceses of Languedoc had demanded this from the provincial estates, and that all the dioceses of the kingdom were ready to seal that declaration with their blood.

The council could not yet proceed to extremities, [and] refused [to do so]. But in the following year it passed a most comprehensive act, by sanctioning, under the form of a general law, all the decrees that had been made upon particular cases by the courts of justice. The preamble stated that this law had been accorded on the demand of the assembly of the clergy. It comprised fifty-nine articles, which all tended to restrict the liberties that the Edict of Nantes had declared perpetual and irrevocable.

The first emigration dates from this epoch. The Reformed hoped no longer to meet with either justice or repose in their native land, and preferred the sufferings of exile to those of persecution.

The Protestant powers of Europe began to be moved. The elector of Brandenburg, one of the most faithful and useful allies of Louis XIV., wrote to him in favour of the Reformed. The king replied that he permitted them to live on an equality with his other subjects. “I am bound to do so,” said he, “by my royal word, and by the gratitude I feel for the proofs they have given of their fidelity during the late disturbances (of the Fronde), in which they bore arms in my service.”

These were but diplomatic phrases, that deceived no one. England and Sweden, whose neutrality was necessary to Louis XIV. after the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, expressed also their solicitude for the fate of the Reformed of France. Emigration continued; and all these circumstances induced the council to publish, in 1669, a kind of retractation of the preceding decrees. Nine articles of the declaration of 1666 were suppressed and twenty-one softened. Although this was but half-justice, the poor oppressed people esteemed themselves fortunate [in obtaining it].

Shortly afterwards the celebrated edict was published, which prohibited the king’s subjects, under pain of confiscation of liberty and property, from going to establish themselves in foreign countries without express permission, and particularly from taking service in the quality of ship-builders or sailors. This law struck all Frenchmen in their ancient liberties; but it was enforced only against those who emigrated on account of their religion.

The Marshal de Turenne had just abjured (1669). This conversion had all the importance of a general act. Turenne had resisted the invitations of Mazarin and Louis XIV., and had not even been dazzled by the offer of the constable’s sword. He changed all at once, when no one any longer expected it, and why, has never been made known.

Some (Roman) Catholic writers say that he had become enlightened by Bossuet’s Exposition of the Doctrines of the Catholic Church,—a book, indeed, well arranged, soberly penned, and of wonderful skill, in which the author hides the greatest errors of doctrine and practice of (Roman) Catholicism under the artifices of deeply-studied diction. It is possible that the old soldier did not investigate very narrowly, and that his limited information upon controversial questions might have failed to protect him against the subtilties of the theologian.

The Reformed historians explain the matter otherwise. They relate that Turenne, who was at all times lax in his religion, had only been retained in it by his wife and his sisters, Mesdames de Duras and de la Trémoille, both very zealous for the Reformed belief. When he was left alone, and had surrendered himself to gallantries little compatible with the faith, he accepted the reasoning of Bossuet.

This is the place to observe that the greater part of the court nobility,—the families of Bouillon, Châtillon, Rohan, Sully, La Trémoille,—regulating themselves by the will of the monarch, had one by one re-entered the (Roman) Catholic church. Their licentious manners had also prepared them for abjuration; these were not less inordinate than those of the rest of the courtiers, according to the testimony of Tallemant des Réaux, who was himself a Calvinist by birth.

Among the people of importance, who had remained faithful to the Reformation, we may cite the Count de Schomberg, who had been commander-in-chief of the armies; the Duke de la Force and his house; a younger branch of the family of La Rochefoucault; several descendants of Duplessis-Mornay; the Marquises de Ruvigny, of whom one was minister-plenipotentiary at London, and the other deputy-general of the churches. The lesser nobility in the provinces had been more firm than the great noblemen. Languedoc, Guienne, Quercy, Saintonge, Poitou, Normandy, still reckoned thousands of gentlemen devoted to the faith of their fathers, and who, in return for the good services they rendered to the king in his armies and his fleets, asked only for a little justice and protection.

XIII.

The abjuration of Turenne renewed the projects of reunion, which had never been entirely abandoned since the attempt of Cardinal de Richelieu. The Prince de Conti, governor of Bas-Languedoc, desirous of making himself agreeable to Louis XIV., had already renewed the endeavour in 1661. The provincial synod of Nismes answered him, in the rude language of the period, by the mouth of their moderator Claude, that the Reformed would be guilty of unpardonable cowardice if they consented to “unite light with darkness, Christ with Belial.”

The project assumed a more serious turn from 1670 to 1673. The Marshal de Turenne took it up with the approbation of the king, and tried to obtain the adhesion of the pastors. An agent of the court visited one after another those who were dependent upon the national synod of Charenton; and partly by threats of the king’s displeasure, and partly by the promise of accomplishing the reunion upon an equitable basis, this emissary succeeded in extorting from several ministers the verbal or written promise of supporting the plan in the next synodal assembly.

It was stated that the king was disposed to extirpate the abuses in the Romish church, which most shocked the Reformed; that the worship of images, purgatory, prayers for the dead, the invocation of saints, would be either suppressed or at least sensibly corrected; that theologians freely chosen from both sides, would have the mission of contriving a mutual understanding upon the doctrine of the Lord’s Supper; that the use of the cup would be restored to the laity, and the religious service would be celebrated in the vernacular; finally, that if the pope sought to oppose these changes, the king would go further, having the word of forty-two bishops upon these articles, and knowing the means of bringing the others to the same opinion.

This was evidently a falsehood. Louis XIV. could not execute what the subaltern agents promised in his name; and if the bishops had refused to make this concession at the colloquy of Poissy, when the Reformation was widely extended throughout the whole kingdom, how could one among them have made such concessions to a small minority, shut up in its places of worship, without political authority, shorn of all power of religious expansion, and well-nigh extirpated?

Nor did the wisest of the Reformed fall into the snare; for they knew that Rome uses two very different languages: the first, when she wishes to gain over heretics; the second, when she has them under her hoof. They knew, moreover, that the accord would, in the end, be limited to an entire submission on their part, followed by a merciful pardon on the other. For this reason, the provincial synod convoked at Charenton, in the month of May, 1673, opposed the new project of reunion with an energetic refusal, and the five pastors, who had promised to support it, solemnly declared their determination against it.

The same attempts produced the like results in Saintonge, Languedoc, and the Vivarais. The court and the clergy at length recognised that there was no rational hope of reducing the Reformed in this direction, and were driven to seek other means for the extermination of heresy.

Two methods, very different in their principle and line of action, were indicated by the adversaries of the Huguenots. The Jansenists, and the most enlightened and most pious of the (Roman) Catholics generally, proposed to convert them by persuasion, fair treatment, and good examples, thinking that it was better to leave the erring without the pale of the Church than to force hypocrites to enter it. The Jesuits and their friends said, on the contrary, that it was incumbent to use both the authority of the king and the Parliaments without reserve, to exact acts of Catholicity at any price, and then to retain folks by the fear of executions, upon the fundamental maxim, that if the new (Roman) Catholics had little faith, their children would have more, and their grandchildren still more. The court balanced a long time between these two systems, which serves to explain its alternatives of mildness and rigour. But in the end, the advice of the Jesuits prevailed.

Ordinances, declarations, decrees, and other acts of the council followed, striking the heretics blow upon blow. Their number was so great that it is impossible to indicate even the substance of them. The Reformed were successively forbidden to raise supplies for the maintenance of their ministers, and the expense of sending them to the synods; to except against suspected judges, although this right was preserved to other Frenchmen; to print religious books without the authorization of the magistrates of the Romish communion; to suborn and corrupt, that is to say, to seek to convert (Roman) Catholics, under pain of a fine of a thousand livres; to celebrate their worship in the places and on the days when the bishops made their tours; to have more than one school and one master in each of the districts where they exercised their religion; to teach by this master anything else than writing, reading, and the elements of arithmetic; and so on. The Reformed were oppressed in their religious faith, their civil person, their political rights, their domestic condition, the education of their children, and each iniquity necessarily produced others. Thus evil ever begets evil.

Some pastors, having held unlawful meetings upon the ruins of their places of worship, which had been unjustly pulled down, were condemned to do penance with a rope round their neck, and were then banished the kingdom. The demolitions spread, and were multiplied for the most trivial motives, upon the denunciations of a bishop, or of some other member of the clergy, upon the quibbles of a (Roman) Catholic commissioner, or simply, as the faithful of Saint Hippolyte experienced, upon the accusation of having manifested disrespect for a curate bearing the holy sacrament along the street.

There were in Béarn ninety-six places of worship, and forty-six churches of residence. A lawsuit, which lasted seven years, reduced the number of places of worship to twenty, and fettered these in every possible way. It was nearly the same in all the provinces of the kingdom. If the council sometimes used precaution, and imposed upon the intendants some reserve, the pastor Claude presumes, in his Plaintes des Protestants de France, that it was to induce the belief that justice was regarded, and that the condemned churches had not good titles.

The mind feels some relief, amidst these persecutions, in dwelling upon the paper wars which were fought at the same epoch between the most eminent pastors of the two religions. Here at least material violence did not intervene; here the contest was equal; and when men of great powers attacked the Reformation, it did not want solid and skilful champions for its defence.

The Jansenists were so accustomed to the strife, that they could not desist from it; and peace having been concluded between them and the Jesuits, through the intermission of Clement IX., they turned their arms against the Huguenots. They imported into the conflict all the greater zeal, that they were themselves taxed with being no more than disguised Calvinists.

Arnault and Nicole therefore published their famous Perpétuité de la Foi sur l’Eucharistie (1664-1676), in which they endeavoured to establish, from the text of the Fathers of the Church, and by certificates brought from the East, that the dogma of the real presence has been at all times admitted in Christianity. Claude replied that they had wrongly interpreted the sense of the Fathers, and certificates procured from poor Greek popes by the ambassador of France, who was their protector against the Turks, were but of little value. His answer had extraordinary success; and the Jesuits themselves did their best to disseminate it, as Arnault complains in one of his letters, because they were quite as much interested in humiliating the Jansenists as in destroying the Reformed.

Nicole re-entered the lists with his Préjugés légitimes contre les Calvinistes. His argumentation was sadly wanting in caution. He maintained that before quitting the Church of Rome, the meanest artisan is bound to assure himself of the authenticity of the holy writings, to compare the translations with the original, to examine all the various readings, to weigh all the interpretations of the texts, to compare them with the decisions of the councils, to perform in a word an immense labour that the most erudite dare hardly undertake. These arguments, every one knows, have been turned by Rousseau against (Roman) Catholicism and even against the Gospel. Claude, Jurieu, and Pajon answered Nicole.

Arnault came to the succour of his friend in a book upon the Renversement de la Morale de Jesus Christ par les Erreurs des Calvinistes. It astonished every one that a doctor who agreed with Calvin upon the dogma of predestination, had constructed all the scaffolding of his polemics upon this consequence, that grace cannot be lost; and this was judiciously objected to him, not only by Bruguier, pastor of Nismes, but by theologians of his own communion.

Bossuet’s Exposition also provoked numerous replies. La Bastide, a member of the consistory of Charenton, and David Noguier, a pastor of Languedoc, proved that this work was wanting in truth, and that the author has constructed an ideal Catholicism totally unlike the real. Pierre Jurieu proved it better than any one in his Preservatif contre le Changement de Religion, and resumed the same question in his Politique du Clergé de France. “Here is a man,” he says, “who transports us into another country. There is no worship of images, no invocation of saints in this new religion; they are only implored just as we beg the faithful on earth to pray to God for us. Until now, I had thought that the devotions to the Virgin and to the other saints was an important thing; I see that the majority of devotees think them of great consequence; and these people say they are nothing, they may be dispensed with, and that it is sufficient to invoke God and Jesus Christ!”

Claude had a celebrated conference with Bossuet in 1678, upon the invitation of Mademoiselle de Duras. The two adversaries have published the report of their debate. Bossuet had pledged himself to make Claude avow that it may happen that a simple individual, however ignorant he may be, understands the Scriptures better than all the councils and all the rest of the Church together—a proposition which he styled as absurd. Claude answered that the question was not so simple, and that before asking if an artisan may be right in spite of all the councils and the Church, it should be shown that there is a single article, upon which the Church and all the councils have constantly agreed.

Ten years afterwards, the bishop of Meaux (Bossuet) re-entered the arena with his Histoire des Variations des Eglises Protestantes. His attacks were made upon the absentees and the proscribed, whose books of refutation were not permitted to pass from Holland into France.

To speak alone was a privilege a man like Bossuet ought to have repudiated.

XIV.

The jubilee of the year 1676 brought about what certain historians call the conversion of Louis XIV. This prince experienced deep remorse that he had caused so much scandal at court and in his kingdom by his public adulteries. He resolved, so he promised his spiritual directors, not to revisit Mademoiselle de Montespan. But he had not the firmness to keep his word. His conscience became thereupon disturbed, and he had troubles of mind and of heart, which were skilfully turned against the heretics by Father La Chaise, who had been promoted about a year before to the office of the king’s confessor. The Reformed were made to atone for the faults of the monarch, and to reconcile him with his offended God by their abjuration, or their ruin.

The religion of Louis XIV. was of this kind. If he had not sufficient piety to conquer his passions, he had enough bigotry to imagine that he could expiate his errors by the reduction of heretics to the Roman unity. Louis XIV. received his first religious ideas from a Spanish mother, who, very ignorant herself, had impressed his mind with many petty scruples, and but little enlightenment on faith and Christian morality. The Jesuits had continued her work, by inspiring their pupil with sentiments, which might subserve for the accomplishment of their designs.

Having understood at a later period how badly he had been educated, he remodelled his education as to those matters which most interested the dignity and authority of his crown. Unhappily, he remained just where he was in respect of religious matters, and his habits were no better than his spiritual convictions. “He never had a proper idea of his duties,” says M. de Sismondi. It was not only his amours which deserve censure, although the scandal of their publicity, the dignities to which he raised the children of his adultery, and the constant humiliation to which he subjected his wife, add greatly to his offence against public morality. He made himself besides deeply guilty by the merciless cruelty with which he shed blood, at one time by such executions as those he inflicted upon the Bretons to punish them for having defended their privileges, at another by the ruin of entire populations. No respect for engagements, no notion of right or wrong, regulated either his public or his private conduct. He violated treaties just as he violated his domestic engagements; he seized the property of his subjects, as well as that of his cousin, Mademoiselle de Montpensier. He acknowledged in his judgments, and in his rigour towards his people, no rule but his own will. At the very moment that his subjects were dying of famine, he retrenched nothing from his prodigalities. Those, who boasted of having converted him, had never represented to him more than two duties, that of renouncing his incontinence, and that of extirpating heresy in his dominions.[88]