When Sunday came, all the carriages of the court drew up before the church of St. Eustache, which the king entered, followed by Du Bellay, Bishop of Paris, and his attendant lords and ladies. The crowd was immense. The preacher went up into the pulpit, and everybody prepared to listen. At first the king observed nothing remarkable; but gradually the sermon grew warmer, and words full of life were heard. 'The end of all visible things,' said Lecoq, 'is to lead us to invisible things. The bread which refreshes our body tells us that Jesus Christ is the life of our soul. Seated at the right hand of God, Jesus lives by his Holy Spirit in the hearts of his disciples. Quæ sursum sunt quærite, says St. Paul, ubi Christus est in dextera Dei sedens. Yes, seek those things which are above! Do not confine yourselves during mass to what is upon the altar; raise yourselves by faith to heaven, there to find the Son of God. After he has consecrated the elements, does not the priest cry out to the people: Sursum corda! lift up your hearts! These words signify: Here is the bread and here is the wine, but Jesus is in heaven. For this reason, Sire,' continued Lecoq, boldly turning to the king, 'if you wish to have Jesus Christ, do not look for him in the visible elements; soar to heaven on the wings of faith. It is by believing in Jesus Christ that we eat his flesh, says St. Augustin. If it were true that Christ must be touched with the hands and devoured by the teeth,[201] we should not say sursum, upwards! but deorsum, downwards! Sire, it is to heaven that I invite you. Hear the voice of the Lord: sursum corda, Sire, sursum corda!'[202] And the sonorous voice of the priest filled the whole church with these words, which he repeated with a tone of the sincerest conviction. All the congregation was moved, and even Francis admired the eloquence of the preacher. 'What do you think of it?' he asked Du Bellay as they were leaving the church.—'He may be right,' answered the Bishop of Paris, who was not opposed to a moderate reform, and who was married.—'I have a great mind to see this priest again,' said the king.—'Nothing can be easier,' replied Du Bellay.
=FALL OF LECOQ.=
Precautions, however, were taken that this interview should be concealed from everybody. The curé disguised himself and was introduced secretly into the king's private cabinet.[203] 'Leave us to ourselves,' said Francis to the bishop.—'Monsieur le curé,' continued he, 'have the goodness to explain what you said about the sacrament of the altar.' Lecoq showed that a spiritual union with Christ could alone be of use to the soul. 'Indeed!' said Francis; 'you raise strange scruples in my mind.'[204] This encouraged the priest, who, charmed with his success, brought forward other articles of faith.[205] His zeal spoilt everything; it was too much for the king, who began to think that the priest might be a heretic after all, and ordered him to be examined by a Romish doctor. 'He is an arch-heretic,' said the inquisitor, after the examination. 'With your Majesty's permission I will keep him locked up.' The king, who did not mean to go so far, ordered Lecoq 'to be set at liberty, and to be admitted to prove his assertions by the testimony of Holy Scripture.'
Upon this the Cardinals of Lorraine and Tournon, 'awakened by the crowing of the cock,'[206] arranged a conference. On one side was the suspected priest, on the other some of the most learned doctors, and the two cardinals presided as arbiters of the discussion. Tournon was one of the ablest men of this period, and a most implacable enemy of the Reformation; in later years he was the persecutor of the Waldenses, and the introducer of the Jesuits into France. The discussion began. 'Whoever thought,' said the doctors of the Sorbonne to Lecoq, 'that these words sursum corda mean that the bread remains bread? No; they signify that your heart should soar to heaven in order that the Lord may descend upon the altar.' Lecoq showed that the Spirit alone gives life; he spoke of Scripture; but Tournon, who had been the means of making more than one pope, and had himself received votes for his own election to the papacy, exclaimed in a style that the popes are fond of using: 'The Church has spoken; submit to her decrees. If you reject the authority of the Church, you sail without a compass, driven by the winds to your destruction. Delay not!... Save yourself! Down with the yards and furl the sails, lest your vessel strike upon the rocks of error, and you suffer an eternal shipwreck.'[207] The cardinals and doctors surrounded Lecoq and pressed him on every side. Here a theologian fell upon him with his elaborate scholastic proofs; there an abbé shouted in his ears; and the cardinals threw the weight of their dignity into the scales. The curé of St. Eustache was tossed to and fro in indecision. He had some small taste for the Gospel, but he loved the world and its honours more. They frightened and soothed him by turns, and at last he retracted what he had preached. Lecoq had none of the qualities of a martyr: he was rather one of those weak minds who furnished backsliders to the primitive Church.
Happily there were in France firmer christians than he. While, in the world of politics, diplomatists were crossing and recrossing the Rhine; while, in the world of Roman-catholicism, the most eloquent men were becoming faithless to their convictions: there were christian men in the evangelical world, among those whose faith had laid hold of redemption, who sacrificed their lives that they might remain faithful to the Lord who had redeemed them. It was a season when the most contrary movements were going on.
Toulouse, in olden times the sanctuary of Gallic paganism, was at this period filled with images, relics, and 'other instruments of Romish idolatry.' The religion of the people was a religion of the eye and of the ear, of the hands and of the knees—in short, a religion of externals; while within, the conscience, the will, and the understanding slept a deep sleep. The parliament, surnamed 'the bloody,' was the docile instrument of the fanaticism of the priests. They said to their officers: 'Keep an eye upon the heretics. If any man does not lift his cap before an image, he is a heretic. If any man, when he hears the Ave Maria bell, does not bend the knee, he is a heretic. If any man takes pleasure in the ancient languages and polite learning, he is a heretic.... Do not delay to inform against such persons.... The parliament will condemn them, and the stake shall rid us of them.'[208]
A celebrated Italian had left his country and settled at Agen. Julius Cesar della Scala, better known by the name of Scaliger, belonged to one of the oldest families of his native country, and on account of the universality of his knowledge, many persons considered him the greatest man that had ever appeared in the world. Scaliger did not embrace the reformed faith, as his son did, but he imported a love of learning, particularly of Greek, to the banks of the Garonne.
=CATURCE AT TOULOUSE.=
The licentiate Jean de Caturce, a professor of laws in the university, and a native of Limoux, having learnt Greek, procured a New Testament and studied it. Being a man of large understanding, of facile eloquence, and above all of thoughtful soul, he found Christ the Saviour, Christ the Lord, Christ the life eternal, and adored him. Erelong Christ transformed him, and he became a new man. Then the Pandects lost their charm, and he discovered in the Holy Scriptures a divine life and light which enraptured him. He meditated on them day and night. He was consumed by an ardent desire to visit his birthplace and preach the Saviour whom he loved and who dwelt in his heart. Accordingly he set out for Limoux, which is not far from Toulouse, and on All Saints' day, 1531, delivered 'an exhortation' there. He resolved to return at the Epiphany, for every year on that day there was a great concourse of people for the festival, and he wished to take advantage of it by openly proclaiming Jesus Christ.
=THE TWELFTH-NIGHT SUPPER.=