Philip, influenced by superstition, and governed by the priests, supported the policy of the inquisitors in the Netherlands. Their cruelties, therefore, increased, until the people broke out into open revolt. The populace made disturbances, throwing down the images in the churches, and committing other acts of violence. The king threatened vengeance upon the transgressors; and submitted the case to the supreme court of inquisition in Spain, to know its judgment concerning the revolters—information and depositions being given by the inferior inquisitors among the disaffected, that court determined that the inhabitants of the Netherlands were guilty of treason.
Philip now indulged his bigotry to the utmost, regardless of the welfare of his subjects. He sent “the Duke of Alva, of infamous memory,” into the Netherlands, with a powerful army to destroy the heretics. That monster, whose bigotry, pride, and stubbornness corresponded with those of his royal master, is said to have “poured out the Protestant blood as water on every side; while one hundred and twenty thousand fled from the persecution.” Throughout all their cities, old and young, men and women, without any distinction of dignity, age, or sex, might be seen suffering by the sword, the gibbet, the fire, and other torments, until the wretched people, roused with indignation, arose as one man, and totally overthrew the horrid Inquisition. William, prince of Orange, undertook the deliverance of his native country, which he accomplished with troops levied among the refugees and the German Protestants. The mortified King of Spain recalled the Duke of Alva; but that “monster boasted that he had delivered into the hands of the executioners above eighteen thousand heretics and rebels, besides those who died in the war!”
Father Paul reckons the Belgic martyrs at 50,000; but Hugo Grotius estimates the numbers who suffered by the hands of the executioner at no less than 100,000. Popery, however, with the accursed Inquisition, was thus driven from the country, and the civil war terminated only with a new form of government, which formed a new Protestant state in Europe, under the title of “The Seven United Provinces.”
CHAPTER VIII.
THE INQUISITION IN FRANCE.
Martyrs in France—Francis I., a persecutor—His mother, Louisa, establishes the Inquisition—Early victims—Francis pursues her policy—His processions and victims—His horrid death—Increase of Protestants—Charles IX.—Massacre—Edict of Nantes—Its revocation—Barbarities of dragoons.
France supplied a large number of victims to the cruel bigotry of the Inquisition, at the period of the reformation, especially in the reign of Francis I. This great monarch was nephew to Louis XII., whom he succeeded on the throne at his death, January 21, 1515. Francis was then twenty-one years of age; and no sooner was he seated on the throne than he resolved on an expedition into Italy, in which he was successful. After the battle of Marignan, in which he was victorious, Francis entered Milan, October 23, 1515; and shortly after concluded a peace with Pope Leo X., by which he was confirmed in many privileges, he and the Pope making various concessions. Leo and Francis met at Bologna, where they drew up a treaty, known as the “The Concordat,” in virtue of which they agreed to sacrifice what were understood as the rights of the church, mutually sharing the spoils. The king conceded to the Pope his supremacy, independent of all councils of the church, while Leo despoiled the ecclesiastical corporations of France of the power to nominate to the bishoprics, bestowing this patronage upon the monarch. This treaty was ratified by the Pope making a public procession to the cathedral at Bologna, the king bearing the train of His Holiness! Francis felt conscious of the iniquitous character of the Concordat; and, turning to Duprat, his chancellor, whispered, “there is enough in it to damn us both!”
Francis and Leo having thus linked their interests together, separated, each to pursue his own course: but the king having afterwards been irritated by some delays of the Pope, complained to the papal legate of the conduct of Leo; adding, that if he were not speedily satisfied, he would countenance the Lutherans in his kingdom. The priestly ambassador replied in a manner that silenced the high-spirited monarch. “Sire,” said he, “you would be the first and greatest loser by such a step—a new religion demands a new prince!” By this means Francis was prepared, under the influence of superstition and fear for his crown, to show the most ardent zeal for the cause of the Pope and his Inquisition.
Two ladies, at this period, exercised extraordinary influence in religion in France. Margaret, the duchess of Alençon, sister of Francis, entertained opinions far different from those of the king; and she afforded her powerful protection to the reformers, who increased in several parts of France, especially at Meaux and Lyons. Louisa of Savoy, mother of Francis, professedly a Roman Catholic, but in reality a woman of no religious principle, was made regent of the kingdom, while he carried his arms into Italy, in 1524. He was, at first, successful; but, being eager to take Pavia, he was defeated near that city by the imperial forces, and taken prisoner by Lannoy, vice-king of Naples.
Francis I. became a captive in the power of the Emperor Charles V., and was carried a prisoner into Spain. During his absence the terrors of the Inquisition were felt in France. For, no sooner had Louisa obtained possession of the reins of government, by the captivity of the king, her son, than she wrote to the Pope, as the means of conciliating his favour, asking his advice as to the best mode of dealing with the heretics that infested France. Clement VII., exasperated by the failure of every attempt to arrest the progress of the reformation in Germany and Switzerland, was delighted with the message which laid the heretics throughout the “Most Christian kingdom of France” at the mercy of the sovereign pontiff. He responded with practical effect; and, by a papal bull, established the Inquisition in France.
For the purpose of carrying out his policy, the Pope appointed Chancellor Duprat to be archbishop of Sens, and created him a cardinal. Thus the Inquisition was, at once, constituted in France, as all the influential powers,—the regent, the chancellor, and the parliament,—were leagued with the Pope and the Sorbonne, to exterminate heresy with fire and sword. A commission was appointed, consisting of four priests, to whom was entrusted absolute power to proceed against all persons suspected of being tainted with Lutheran doctrines. The highest dignitaries were held responsible to this dread tribunal; and the first victim of the inquisitors was Briconnet, count of Montbrun, bishop of Meaux. He was compelled to answer, like the humblest priest, before two of the inquisitors, and every appeal that he attempted to make to the parliament, or to the regent, was rejected. He recanted the evangelical doctrines that he had preached; and Lefevre, an aged professor in the university, “the forerunner of the reformation,” fled to Strasburgh. But neither the fall of the bishop, nor the flight of the doctor, could satisfy the inquisitors of Paris. Jean Pavanne was burned at the stake in the Place de Grève, rejoicing that he was counted worthy to suffer death for Christ. Their next victim was “the good hermit of Livry.” As he had evangelised the villagers around his dwelling, about nine miles from Paris, it was resolved to make him a public example. A vast pile was raised in the open area in front of the cathedral of Notre Dame, in which this servant of Christ was sacrificed, in the presence of the whole of the clergy, and a multitude of the people, who had been called together by the great bell of the cathedral. To such humble victims others were added of higher rank, and by other means than the prison and the stake. Michael D’Arande, chaplain to the Princess Margaret, was threatened with death, and Anthony Papillon, chief master of requests to the Dauphin, was carried off by poison. The inquisitors, in a few months, had committed to the flames, or driven from France, nearly every individual who had been the object of their envy or suspicion. At length, after a year’s captivity in Spain, Francis obtained his freedom, on most humiliating conditions, to the performance of which he was bound by a solemn oath. From this oath to the emperor the Pope gave him absolution, and thereby bound him more closely to himself by such faithless bonds of perjury and deceit. But this favour rendered it the more difficult for him to change the policy which, under the regency of his mother, had delivered up the heretics of France to the inquisitors of Rome.