=ALEXANDER AT LYONS.=
One day, a few weeks after Easter, a man loaded with chains entered the capital: he was escorted by archers, all of whom showed him much respect. They took him to the Conciergerie. It was Alexander Canus, known among the Dominicans by the name of Father Laurent de la Croix. At Lyons, as at Paris, Easter had been the time appointed by the evangelicals for boldly raising their banner. The goldsmiths, who were to Alexander what the Queen of Navarre was to Roussel, were no longer satisfied with preachings in secret. Every preparation was made for a great assembly; the locality was settled; pious christians went through the streets from house to house and gave notice of the time and place. Many were attracted by the desire of hearing a doctrine that was so much talked about, and on Easter-day the ex-dominican preached before a large audience.[575] Was it in a church, in some hall, or in the open air? The chronicler does not say. Alexander moved his hearers deeply, and it might have been said that Christ rose again that Easter morn in Lyons, where he had so long lain in the sepulchre. All were not, however, equally friendly; some cast sinister glances. Alexander was no longer invisible: the spies in the assembly saw him, heard him, studied his physiognomy, took note of his blasphemies, and hurried off to report them to their superiors.[576]
While the police were listening to the reports and taking their measures, there were voices of joy and deliverance in many a humble dwelling. A divine call had been heard, and many were resolved to obey it. Alexander, who had belonged to the order of Preachers, combined the gift of eloquence with the sincerest piety. Accordingly, his hearers requested him to preach again the second day of Easter. The meeting took place on Monday, and was more numerous than the day before. All eyes were fixed on the evangelist, all ears were attentive, all faces were beaming with joy; here and there, however, a few countenances of evil omen might be seen: they were the agents charged to seize the mysterious preacher. The assembly heard a most touching discourse; but just when Alexander's friends desired, as usual, to surround him and get him away, the officers of justice, more expeditious this time, came forward, laid their hands upon him, and took him to prison. He was brought before the tribunal and condemned to death. This cruel sentence distressed all the evangelicals, who urged him to appeal; he did appeal, which had the effect of causing him to be transferred to Paris. 'That was not done without great mystery,' says Froment, 'and without the great providence of God.'[577] People said to one another that Paul, having appealed to the emperor, won over a great nation at Rome; and they asked whether Alexander might not do the same at Paris. The evangelist departed under the escort of a captain and his company.
The captain was a worthy man: he rode beside Alexander, and they soon entered into conversation. The officer questioned him, and the ex-dominican explained to him the cause of his arrest. The soldier listened with astonishment; he took an interest in the story, and by degrees the words of the pious prisoner entered into his heart. He heard God's call and awoke; he experienced a few moments of struggle and doubt, but erelong the assurance of faith prevailed. 'The captain was converted,' says Froment, 'while taking him to Paris.' Alexander did not stop at this; he spoke to each of the guards, and some of them also were won over to the Gospel. The first evening they halted at an inn, and the prisoner found means to address a few good words to the servants and the heads of the household. This was repeated every day. People came to see the strange captive, they entered into conversation with him, and he answered every question. He employed in the service of the Gospel all the skill that he possessed in discussion. 'He was learned in the doctrine of the sophists,' says a contemporary, 'having profited well and studied long at Paris with his companions (the Dominicans).' Now and then the people went and fetched the priest or orator of the village to dispute with him; but they were easily reduced to silence. Many of the hearers were enlightened and touched, and some were converted. They said, as they left the inn: 'Really we have never seen a man answer and confound his adversaries better by Holy Scripture.'[578] The crowd increased from town to town. At last Alexander arrived in Paris: 'Wonderful thing!' remarks the chronicler, 'he was more useful at the inns and on the road than he had ever been before.'[579]
=A PRISONER IN PARIS.=
This remarkable prisoner was soon talked of in many quarters of Paris. The case was a very serious one. 'A friar, a Dominican, an inquisitor,' said the people, 'has gone over to the Lutherans, and is striving to make heretics everywhere.' The monks of his own convent made the most noise. The king, who detained Beda in prison, desired to preserve the balance by giving some satisfaction to the catholics. He was not uneasy about the German protestants; he had observed closely the landgrave's ardour, and had no fear that the fiery Philip would break off the alliance for a Dominican monk. Francis, therefore, allowed matters to take their course, and Alexander appeared before a court of parliament. 'Name your accomplices,' said the judges; and as he refused to name the accomplices, who did not exist, the president added: 'Give him the boot.' The executioners brought forward the boards and the wedges, with which they tightly compressed the legs of the evangelist. His sufferings soon became so severe that, hoping they had converted him, they stopped the torture, and the president once more called upon him to name all who, like himself, had separated from the Church of Rome; but he was not to be shaken, and the punishment began again. 'He was severely tortured several times,' say the Actes, 'to great extremity of cruelty.' The executioners drove the wedges so tightly between the boards in which his limbs were confined, that his left leg was crushed. Alexander groaned aloud: 'O God!' he exclaimed, 'there is neither pity nor mercy in these men! ... oh that I may find both in thee!'—'Keep on,' said the head executioner. The unhappy man, who had observed Budæus among the assessors, turned on him a mild look of supplication, and said: 'Is there no Gamaliel here to moderate the cruelty they are practising on me?'[580] The illustrious scholar, an honest and just man, although irresolute in his proceedings, kept his eyes fixed on the martyr, astonished at his patience. 'It is enough,' he said: 'he has been tortured too much; you ought to be satisfied.' Budæus was a person of great authority; his words took effect, and the extraordinary gehenna ceased. 'The executioners lifted up the martyr, and carried him to his dungeon a cripple.'[581]
=ALEXANDER TORTURED.=
It was the custom to deliver sentence in the absence of the accused, and to inform him of it in the Conciergerie through a clerk of the criminal office. The idea occurred of pronouncing it in Alexander's presence; perhaps in his terror he might ask for some alleviation, and by this means they might extort a confession. But all was useless. The court made a great display, and a crowd of spectators increased the solemnity, to no purpose: Alexander Canus, of Evreux, in Normandy, was condemned to be burnt alive. A flash of joy suddenly lit up his face. 'Truly,' said the spectators, 'is he more joyful than he was before!'[582]
The priests now came forward to perform the sacerdotal degradation. 'If you utter a word,' they told him, 'you will have your tongue cut out.'—'The practice of cutting off the tongue,' adds the historian, 'began that year.' The priests took off his sacerdotal dress, shaved his head, and went through all the usual mysteries. During this ceremony Alexander uttered not a word; only at one of the absurdities of the priests he let a smile escape him. They dressed him in the robe de fol—a garment of coarse cloth, such as was worn by the poorer peasantry. When the pious martyr caught sight of it, he exclaimed, 'O God, is there any greater honour than to receive this day the livery which thy Son received in the house of Herod?'[583]
A cart, generally used to carry mud or dust, was brought to the front of the building. Some Dominicans, his former brethren, got into it along with the humble christian, and all proceeded towards the Place Maubert. As the cart moved but slowly, Alexander, standing up, leant over towards the people, and 'scattered the seed of the Gospel with both hands.' Many persons, moved even to tears, exclaimed that they were putting him to death wrongfully; but the Dominicans pulled him by his gown, and annoyed him in every way. At first he paid no attention to this; but when one of the monks said to him coarsely: 'Either recant, or hold your tongue,' Alexander turned round and said to him with firmness: 'I will not renounce Jesus Christ.... Depart from me, ye deceivers of the people!'