Henry M. Baird · 124 of 379
CHAPTER VIII · Assault upon the worshippers.
The Protestants of the capital, far from rejoicing over the misfortunes of the kingdom, as their adversaries falsely asserted, met even more frequently than before to offer their united prayers in its behalf. On the evening of the fourth of September, 1557, three or four hundred persons, of every rank of society, quietly repaired to a house in the Rue St. Jacques, almost under the very shadow of the Sorbonne, where the of the was to be administered according to previous appointment. Their coming together had not been so noiseless, however, as to escape the attention of some priests, residing in the Collége du Plessis, on the other side of the way, whose suspicions had for some time been fixed upon the spot. The reformed were not disturbed during the exercise of their worship. But when, toward midnight, they prepared to return to their homes, the fury of their enemies discharged upon them the full force of its pent-up energies. A fanatical crowd blocked the street or filled the opposite windows, ready to overwhelm with a shower of stones and missiles of all descriptions any that might leave the protection of the house. Continual accessions were made of those whom the cries of "Thieves!" "Robbers!" "Conspirators against the realm!" attracted to the place. The discovery of the fact that it was a company not of robbers, but of "Lutherans," only inflamed the rage of the new-comers. The cry was now for blood. Every avenue of escape was guarded, and bonfires lighted here and there dispelled the friendly darkness. Carts and wagons were drawn across the streets, and armed men occupied the street-corners, or, if too cowardly to expose themselves to any danger, stood ready at doors and windows to thrust the fugitives through with their pikes.
The assembled Protestants, awakened to their danger, at first expected a general massacre. But the exhortations of their pastors and elders gave them new courage. In the midst of the storm raging without, they betook themselves to prayer. At length the necessity was recognized of coming to a prompt decision. To await the coming of the civil authorities, for whom their enemies had sent, was to give themselves up to certain death. Nothing remained but to force their way out—a course recommended, we are told, by those who knew the cowardice of a Parisian mob. The men who were provided with swords were placed in the front rank, the unarmed followed in their wake. Again and again small companies issued into the street and faced the angry storm. Each successive company reached a safe refuge. In fact, of all that adopted the bolder course of action, only one person was knocked down and left upon the ground to be brutally murdered and suffer the most shameful indignities. There were, however, many—one hundred and twenty or more women and children, with a few men—whom fear prevented from following the example of their companions. Around them the rabble, balked of the greater part of its expected victims, raged with increased fury. At one moment they presented themselves at the windows to the view of their enemies, in the vain hope that the sight of so much innocence and helplessness would secure compassion. When only blind hatred and malice were exhibited in return, they withdrew and quietly awaited the fate which they believed to be in store for them at the hands of the mob. From this they were delivered by the sudden arrival of Martine, the king's "procureur" belonging to the Châtelet, with a strong detachment of commissaries and sergeants.
With great difficulty restraining the impetuosity of the mob, the magistrate made on the very spot an examination into the services that had been held. The whole story was told him in simple terms. He found that, while the Protestants had been assembling, the Scriptures had for a long time been read in the French language. The minister had next offered prayer, the whole company kneeling upon the floor. He had afterward set forth the institution of the holy supper as given by St. Paul, had exhibited its true utility and how it ought to be approached, and had debarred from the communion all seditious, disobedient, impure, and other unworthy participants, forbidding them to come near to the sacred table. Then those who had been deemed to be in a fit frame to receive the sacrament had presented themselves, and received the bread and the wine from the hands of the ministers, with the words: "This is the communion of the body and blood of the Lord." Prayers had followed for the king and the prosperity of his kingdom, for all the poor in their affliction, and for the church in general. The services had closed with the singing of several psalms.