Chapter 11 Life of the Preachers After the Edict of 1724.
A LONG with the appalling news of the murderous edict, reports of the revolutionary projects of the exasperated Huguenots reached the ears of the pastors, and this was quickly followed by the sad tidings of the death of their beloved aged friend, Benedict Pictet. Well for them that, when their hearts were overwhelmed, they could look to the Rock that was higher than they―a shelter, and a strong tower from the enemy. On their bereavement, Court thus expresses his feelings, which were also those of Roger: “You could not have made use of a more crushing announcement than that of the death of the illustrious Pictet, of this incomparable man, so tender and so good, who had so much kindness for me as to place me as it were among his children. Oh! what a blow, my dear friends; what a fatal blow!”
The excited state of the reformed demanded the immediate action of the pastors. Quickly they traveled through the provinces, exhorting their flocks to patience and submission, and to faith in God, who would not fail them in their new ordeal. Some softening of the cruel decree was sought for by various appeals to the friends they had lately made among the foreign powers―the courts of England, Holland, and Prussia. A proposant, of the name of Gaubert, even ventured to address Louis XV. “Sire,” he wrote, “for the love of Him who placed the scepter in your hands, and who let you happily ascend this august throne in order to dispense justice to the people whom He has confided to your prudent care, and who are your children and your subjects, have compassion on those poor innocents who are oppressed without cause, and grant that no further violence be done to their conscience. From your goodness and kindness, they look for some softening of their misfortunes.”
But appeals, expostulations, and entreaties, were alike unavailing. Nothing shook the determination of the courtiers and priests at Versailles, who had originated the barbarous proclamation. It remained in all its pitiless severity, to dishonor the opening years of the reign of Louis XV., a monstrous legislation, truly, that aimed at nothing less than the extermination of the reformed in his kingdom Its eighteen articles were so incoherent and iniquitous, that in their full rigor, their execution was impossible.
Baville, in his eagerness to annihilate Protestants and Protestantism, had outwitted himself, by drawing up an edict, which, if carried out in all its details, must have made every prison of France to overflow, and have caused the galleons to be glutted with the thousands of galley-slaves that would have been drafted on to them.
That these decrees fell through to some extent was, doubtless, greatly due to the fact that the Roman Catholic clergy of the provinces recoiled before the violence that they must have inevitably done to their own consciences, by wittingly admitting to the sacraments but badly dissembled heretics. It is but just to add that the heroism of the persecuted, in the patience of divine strength, baffled the cunning and violence of the enemy, whose shafts fell powerless before the authority of their faith, so that the long series of barbarities which followed did not bring the result which the church of Rome had anticipated. Again the “great sight,” which Moses turned aside to contemplate in a bygone age, was seen; “behold, the bush burned with fire, and the bush was riot consumed.”
No tangible help came from the Protestant powers in response to the appeals of the Huguenots. But little importance seemed to be attached by them to an edict, which was to cause so much blood and so many tears to flow among those whom they had pledged themselves to befriend. A few dry letters of sympathy came from Geneva, making the preachers realize the more fully that Pictet’s fatherly heart no longer beat there; some equally profitless ones from Berlin, advising them to give up holding assemblies in the desert; and fervent appeals from the refugee pastors at La Haye, exhorting the Protestants as a body to abandon France, likening her to Babylon, and quoting, “Come out of her, my people, that ye be not partakers of her sins, and that ye receive not of her plagues.”
This last suggestion coming from Christians whom all respected, met with the most serious consideration at the Synod, which was immediately convoked for the purpose of conferring as to how the Protestants should act in this dire emergency. The alternatives proposed were revolt or dissimulation of their faith, and on each there was long and earnest deliberation. General emigration, to countries where they could freely worship, for a while met with the most favor, and seemed imminent, as the pastors firmly negative the other propositions. But God overruled that this should not be carried into effect, for He yet purposed to preserve a testimony for the truth in France, and designed that it should but revive with fresh vigor from the fiery piles and bloody scaffolds of the young king.
After continued and prayerful consultation, another alternative was suggested, which commended itself to the minds of the most godly, namely, to remain in the country, to boldly confess their faith, and to trust God for patience and courage to suffer the consequences. It was decided that the preachers should exhort the people to this end, and especially to beseech them that all envy, hatred, and malice might be laid aside, that sectarian parties should break up, and all together make common cause, standing shoulder to shoulder for Christ. Having further appointed a day for a general fast and humiliation on account of the “torrent of vices, which were a shame to the reformation,” the synod dispersed.
A few months of calm followed the promulgation of the edict; but the preachers knew full well that it was but the calm before the storm, which must inevitably burst upon their devoted heads; indeed Roger very quickly experienced the first heavy drops from the threatening cloud. The authorities at Grenoble, who had so strenuously endeavored to capture him in the valley of Bordeaux, now redoubled their efforts, obtaining from government a corps of fourteen hundred men to pursue him. The pastor, being warned of their intentions, ceased holding meetings for a time, and kept in concealment. Having no distinct orders from headquarters, the troops remained inactive, so that this attempt, as previous ones had done, resulted in failure.
The other preachers were also in great danger. A description of Court’s person was in the hands of the police, and had been widely circulated to facilitate his arrest; it ran as follows: ― “Height 5.ft. 4, pretty well made; wearing generally a short perruque; a little marked with small pox; broad face; aquiline nose; black eyes. He ordinarily wears either gold or silver buttons on his clothes, which are without braid. He always wears a hat bound with ribbon, carries a sword as well as a cane.’ A thousand francs had been previously put on his head, but it had now risen in value to a thousand crowns, and a few years later this sum was again doubled. Corterey, whom they honor by designating as” the most dangerous of all, “was priced at two thousand francs, and he was thus described: ―” Height little above the middle; face long and thin; large mouth; aquiline nose; dark chestnut hair; gentle expression.”
A sum of a thousand francs was placed also on the heads of Durand, Rouviere, Montbonnoux, and Gaubert. Thus was it sought to excite the cupidity of the poor peasantry, and it is much to their credit that the preachers were not immediately betrayed to the enemy for love of filthy lucre. Spies, however, were by no means lacking, and day by day the government received offers from worthless characters, who were but too anxious to earn the wages of iniquity by selling the lives of those of whom the world was not worthy.
In face of these new and pressing dangers, when residence of even a few days in any locality might prove fatal, it became a rule that preachers should be ever on the wing, and a life of incessant hardships and weary wanderings began. Pilgrim-missionaries from necessity, the preachers constantly moved on, carrying the glad tidings of the grace of God far and wide, to mountain hamlet and sheltered valley, which the gospel story had not reached, ere these now “scattered abroad, went everywhere preaching the word.” The dusty highroads of the plains, glistening in the brilliant sunshine like long bands of white ribbon, leading through pleasant vineyards and olive groves, would be avoided as too frequented, the evangelists feeling more secure when wending their way over dangerous mountain tracks, where the roar of the torrent and of the falling cascade was heard, and but few fellow travelers were encountered. Disguised in the coarse homespun garments of mountaineers, staff in hand, they would tramp on unnoticed, thankful when occasionally a Huguenot peasant would give them a lift on his mule or rough pony. Roger’s robust frame defied fatigue, and this mode of life, which others, many years his junior, found so exhausting, was no effort to him. At fifty years of age he far surpassed his younger companions in strength and muscular endurance, so that it was said of him that “he could do his hundred miles a day without being tired!”
Very different was the experience of others of a delicate organization, though of an equal resolution. Thus when Court was reduced with fever, and still determined to continue his itinerant ministry, he walked on until his feeble limbs refused to carry him further, and he was obliged to procure two men to bear him forward. On another occasion he writes: “My traveling companion, the brother Rouviere, has been laid up in a village fifty days through illness... He has now rejoined me, but is still very ill, though he walks a little.” Gaubert says of himself: ― “As I am always in poor health, I can hardly walk, and people are disobliging. Those who have good mounts are not wanting in good reasons for not lending them.”
Through wind and rain, heat and cold, on pressed the persistent missionaries, thankful if, at the end of a long day’s toil, they could obtain the rare luxury of a bed. Most frequently, like Jacob, when the sun went down, they found but a stone for a pillow, under the starry vault of heaven.
But there were localities of special peril, where such unguarded resting-places would be unsafe. In these districts, caves known only to the Huguenots, offered at least secure covert―dens in which wild beasts alone could be supposed to hide in We read of one in a cliff overhanging a broad and rapid river, with a very narrow inlet, difficult to detect, so concealed was it by boughs of trees and underwood. This entrance could be only gained by sliding full ten feet down the surface of the rock. This cave communicated with one below, and from the lower cavern was an outlet which, in case of discovery, might be used by the refugees without fear of further pursuit, seeing that it involved a plunge into the dark flowing stream, and a swim for life.
Sometimes a stranger, in apparent kindness, would offer the shelter of his roof; but, knowing the strong temptation to treachery, through the high rewards set on their heads, the wary wanderers would not venture to accept the much needed hospitality. Far otherwise was an invitation treated when made by true hearted Protestants, who gloried in welcoming the banished preachers to their homes. Undeterred by fear of the terrible galleys for life, which might be their fate if their guests were discovered, they gladly threw open their doors at the first knock, and vied with each other in proving their courage, and in showing affection to their pastors. What joy in the Christian household, when gathered round the blazing hearth on a winter’s night, with doors securely fastened, in the company of one of these men of God Often they would sit on into the small hours of the night, listening to thrilling tales of hairbreadth escapes, of to details of the Lord’s work, and the gracious encouragement given at the last held meetings.
Naturally at this crisis, assemblies were of less frequent occurrence, and were gathered how and when possible, according to the movements of the troops. It was very encouraging to the preachers to find that tribulation and persecution but increased their influence over the minds of the Protestants, who flocked whenever possible with greater eagerness than ever around those whom they could but regard as martyrs to the truth.
Anxious and trying as were years of homeless wanderings to these men, who, for Christ’s sake, were as vagabonds on the earth, we cannot but feel that those among them who had taken to themselves wives, had greatly enhanced their trials and anxieties. Of necessity all home links had to be broken for those who persisted in preaching the gospel in France, as it was impossible for women and children to share their vagrant, fugitive life.
Corteiz, as we have seen, had married some years previously in Switzerland, and had never dared to remove his wife from her native land, where she lived in constant apprehension as to her husband’s fate, ever dreading to receive tidings of his martyrdom. That this separation was equally painful to the loving heart of the hardy mountaineer is evident by his letters “to my Isabeau,” which give us glimpses of the inner life of the inflexible Huguenot, while treading with such brave cheerfulness his lonely path. The writing is uncouth and straggling, the orthography faulty, but they breathe forth depths of exquisite tenderness for the wife and children whom, at a distance, he still sought to cherish and comfort.
Antoine Court had, two years ‘ere this, on his return from Geneva, married at Uzes, a young girl of much piety, Etiennette Pages by name, but whom he calls “Rachel.” She was already well known among God’s people for her devotedness to Christ, and this was her chief attraction in the young man’s eyes. Though doubtless the companionship of so true a helpmeet, who gladly shared his labors, was a great solace to him while it could be enjoyed, yet, in the present emergency, which imperatively demanded separation from wife and babe, the very possession of such treasures greatly deepened the trials of an already troublous life.