Henry M. Baird · 317 of 379

CHAPTER XI · A witty woman's caution.

That very evening Beza and Lorraine crossed swords for the first time in the apartments of Navarre. The former, coming by invitation, was much surprised to find there before him not only Antoine and his brothers, but Catharine de' Medici and Cardinal Lorraine, neither of whom had he previously met. Without losing his self-possession, however, he briefly adverted to the occasion of his coming, and the queen mother in return graciously expressed the joy she would experience should his advent conduce to the peace and quietness of the realm. Hereupon the cardinal took part in the conversation, and said that he hoped Beza might be as zealous in allaying the troubles of France as he had been successful in fomenting discord—a remark which Beza did not let pass unchallenged, for he declared that he neither had distracted nor intended to distract his native land. From inquiries respecting Beza's great master, Calvin, his age and health, the discourse turned to certain obnoxious expressions which Lorraine attributed to Beza himself; but the latter entirely disclaimed being their author, much to the confusion of the cardinal, who had expected to create a strong prejudice against his opponent in the minds of the by-standers. The greater part of the evening, however, was consumed in a discussion respecting the real presence. Beza, while denying that the sacramental bread and wine were transmuted into the body and blood of Christ, was willing to admit, according to Calvin's views and his own, "that the bread is sacramentally Christ's body—that is, that although that body is now in heaven alone, while we have the signs with us on earth, yet the very body of Christ is as truly given to us and received by faith, and that to our eternal life, on account of God's promise, as the sign is in a natural manner placed in our hands." The statement was certainly far enough removed from the theory of the Romish Church to have consigned its author to the flames, had the theologians of the Sorbonne been his judges. But it satisfied the cardinal, who confessed that he was little at home in a discussion foreign to his ordinary studies—a fact quite sufficiently apparent from his confused statements—and did not attempt to conceal the little account which he made of the dogma of transubstantiation. "See then, madam," said Beza, "what are those sacramentarians, who have been so long persecuted and overwhelmed with all kinds of calumnies." "Do you hear, cardinal?" said the queen to Lorraine. "He says that the sacramentarians hold no other opinion than that to which you have assented." With this satisfactory conclusion the discussion, which had lasted a couple of hours, was concluded. The queen mother left greatly pleased with the substantial agreement which the two champions of opposite creeds had attained in their first interview, and flattering herself that greater results might attend the public conferences. The cardinal, too, professed high esteem for Beza, and said to him, as he was going away: "I adjure you to confer with me; you will not find me so black as I am painted." Beza might have been pardoned, had he permitted the cardinal's professions somewhat to shake his convictions of the man's true character. He was, however, placed on his guard by the pointed words of a witty woman. Madame de Crussol, who had listened to the entire conversation, as she shook the cardinal's hand at the close of the evening, significantly said, in a voice loud enough to be heard by all: "Good man for to-night; but to-morrow—what?" The covert prediction was soon fulfilled. The very next day the cardinal was industriously circulating the story that Beza had been vanquished in their first encounter.