Everything had been prepared for the festival.[209] On the eve of Epiphany there was usually a grand supper, at which, according to custom, the king of the feast was proclaimed, after which there was shouting and joking, singing and dancing. Caturce was determined to take part in the festival, but in such a way that it should not pass off in the usual manner. When the services of the day in honour of the three kings of the East were over, the company sat down to table: they drank the wine of the south, and at last the cake was brought in. One of the guests found the bean, the gaiety increased, and they were about to celebrate the new royalty by the ordinary toast: the king drinks! when Caturce stood up. 'There is only one king,' he said, 'and Jesus Christ is he. It is not enough for his name to flit through our brains—he must dwell in our hearts. He who has Christ in him wants for nothing. Instead then of shouting the king drinks, let us say this night: May Christ, the true king, reign in all our hearts!'[210]
The professor of Toulouse was much esteemed in his native town, and many of his acquaintances already loved the Gospel. The lips that were ready to shout the king drinks were dumb, and many sympathised, at least by their silence, with the new 'toast' which he proposed to them. Caturce continued: 'My friends, I propose that after supper, instead of loose talk, dances, and revelry, each of us shall bring forward in his turn one passage of Holy Scripture.' The proposal was accepted, and the noisy supper was changed into an orderly christian assembly. First one man repeated some passage that had struck him, then another did the same; but Caturce, says the chronicle, 'entered deeper into the matter than the rest of the company,' contending that Jesus Christ ought to sit on the throne of our hearts. The professor returned to the university.
This Twelfth-night supper produced so great a sensation, that a report was made of it at Toulouse. The officers of justice apprehended the licentiate in the midst of his books and his lessons, and brought him before the court. 'Your worships,' he said, 'I am willing to maintain what I have at heart, but let my opponents be learned men with their books, who will prove what they advance. I should wish each point to be decided without wandering talk.' The discussion began; but the most learned theologians were opposed to him in vain, for the licentiate, who had the Divine Word within him, answered 'promptly, pertinently, and with much power, quoting immediately the passages of Scripture which best served his purpose,' says the chronicle. The doctors were silenced, and the professor was taken back to prison.[211]
The judges were greatly embarrassed. One of them visited the heretic in his dungeon, to see if he could not be shaken. 'Master Caturce,' said he, 'we offer to set you at full liberty, on condition that you will first retract only three points, in a lecture which you will give in the schools.' The chronicler does not tell us what these three points were. The licentiate's friends entreated him to consent, and for a moment he hesitated, only to regain his firmness immediately after. 'It is a snare of the Evil one,' he replied. Notwithstanding this, his friends laid a form of recantation before him, and when he had rejected it, they brought him another still more skilfully drawn up. But 'the Lord strengthened him so that he thrust all these papers away from him.' His friends withdrew in dismay. He was declared a heretic, condemned to be burnt alive, and taken to the square of St. Etienne.
Here an immense crowd had assembled, especially of students of the university who were anxious to witness the degradation of so esteemed a professor. The 'mystery' lasted three hours, and they were three hours of triumph for the Word of God. Never had Caturce spoken with greater freedom. In answer to everything that was said, he brought some passage of Scripture 'very pertinent to reprove the stupidity of his judges before the scholars.' His academical robes were taken off, the costume of a merry-andrew was put on him, and then another scene began.
=THE DOMINICAN SILENCED.=
A Dominican monk, wearing a white robe and scapulary, with a black cloak and pointed cap, made his way through the crowd, and ascended a little wooden pulpit which had been set up in the middle of the square. This by no means learned individual assumed an important air, for he had been commissioned to deliver what was called 'the sermon of the catholic faith.' In a voice that was heard all over the square, he read his text: The Spirit speaketh expressly, that in the latter times some shall depart from the faith, giving heed to seducing spirits and doctrines of devils.[212] The monks were delighted with a text which appeared so suitable; but Caturce, who almost knew his Testament by heart, perceiving that, according to their custom of distorting Scripture, he had only taken a fragment (lopin) of the passage, cried out with a clear voice: 'Read on.' The Dominican, who felt alarmed, stopped short, upon which Caturce himself completed the passage: Forbidding to marry, and commanding to abstain from meats, which God hath created to be received with thanksgiving of them which believe. The monks were confounded; the students and other friends of the licentiate smiled. 'We know them,' continued the energetic professor, 'these deceivers of the people, who, instead of the doctrine of faith, feed them with trash. In God's service there is no question of fish or of flesh, of black or of grey, of Wednesday or Friday.... It is nothing but foolish superstition which requires celibacy and abstaining from meats. Such are not the commandments of God.' The Dominican in his pulpit listened with astonishment; the prisoner was preaching in the midst of the officers of justice, and the students heard him 'with great favour.' The poor Dominican, ashamed of his folly, left his sermon unpreached.
After this the martyr was led back to the court, where sentence of death was pronounced upon him. Caturce surveyed his judges with indignation, and, as he left the tribunal, exclaimed in Latin: 'Thou seat of iniquity! Thou court of injustice!' He was now led to the scaffold, and at the stake continued exhorting the people to know Jesus Christ. 'It is impossible to calculate the great fruit wrought by his death,' says the chronicle, 'especially among the students then at the university of Toulouse,' that is to say, in the year 1532.[213]