Chapter IV (2)

It was a strange sight, this evangelical chaplain preaching in the chapel of the most persecuting court in Christendom. Alexander, too, after being frequently accused, was at length obliged to hold a theological disputation with the confessor De Soto, in the presence of the two Granvellas. In consequence of this disputation proceedings were instituted against him. The confessor often came before the emperor and declared that the whole country would be ruined if this man were not severely punished. One day a friend of Enzinas came to see him in prison, and told him that the queen's preacher had fled, because he found that if he stayed an hour longer he would be ruined. Alexander was tried and burnt in effigy, together with his Latin and French books. As for himself, he became first a professor at the university of Heidelberg, afterwards canon of Canterbury cathedral, and finally pastor of the French church in London.

This flight brought Enzinas to a decision. On February 1, 1545, after sitting a long time at table at the evening meal, he felt more depressed than usual without knowing why. The clock struck, it was half-past seven. He then rose, as he was wont to do, not liking protracted meals, and began to pace up and down in a gloomy and dejected state, so that some of the prisoners came up to him and said--'Come, put away this melancholy.' 'Make you merry, the rest of you, over your cups,' he answered; 'but as for me I want air; I will go out.' No one paid any attention to what he said, nor did he himself mean any thing particular when he spoke. He continued walking about, uneasy, having some difficulty in breathing, and in great distress. He thus came to the first gate, the upper part of which, constructed of strong lattice-work, allowed him to see into the street. Having approached it for the purpose of looking out, he felt the gate stir. He took hold of it and it opened easily. The second was wide open, and the third was only closed during the night. We have mentioned the negligence of the jailer. Francis was amazed at the strange circumstance. It seemed to him that God called him; he resolved to take advantage of this unlooked-for opportunity, and went out.

[Sidenote: ESCAPE OF ENZINAS.]

He reached the street and was there alone. The night was very dark, but was lighted up from time to time by the torches of passengers traversing the streets or the squares. Enzinas, keeping a little on one side, considered where he had better go. Every refuge appeared to him open to suspicion and full of danger. Suddenly he remembered one man of his acquaintance, of Christian character, in whom he placed implicit confidence. He betook himself to his place of abode and called him. 'Come in and stay with me,' said the man. Enzinas replied that it appeared to him the safest plan to go out of the town that very night. 'Do you know,' he added, 'any part of the walls at which it would be possible to clear them?' 'Yes,' said the other, 'I will guide you and will accompany you wherever you wish to go.' The friend took his cloak and they set out. They went on their way, quite alone in the darkness, towards the walls. At night these parts were deserted. They found the spot they were seeking for, and scaled the wall. At that moment the clocks in the town struck the hour of eight.[156] Their flight had, therefore, occupied less than half an hour. These two men cleared the wall as easily as if they had prepared for it long before. Enzinas was out of the town. 'I often found help of God,' said he, 'while I was in prison; but never had I experienced it as at this moment.' He resolved to proceed that same night to Mechlin, and early the next morning to Antwerp.

A thousand thoughts thronged his mind as he went silently onwards in the darkness. The gloomy fancies of the prison-house were succeeded by joyful hopes. Much affected by his wonderful deliverance, he saw in it a mystery, a hidden will of God. 'Assuredly,' he said, 'if I am set at liberty, it is to the end that I may be ready for ruder conflicts and greater dangers,' and as he walked on he prepared himself for them by prayer. 'O Father of our deliverer Jesus Christ, enlighten my mind, that I may know the hope of my calling, and that I may faithfully serve the church of Jesus Christ even to the latest day of my life.'

Thus, sometimes praying and sometimes conversing with the brother who accompanied him, Enzinas arrived before Mechlin; but as the gates of the town were not yet opened, he had to wait a long time. At five o'clock in the morning the officers of the town appeared, and every one was free to go in or out. As Enzinas entered he saw in front of an inn a vehicle just on the point of starting, in which sat a man whose appearance was not calculated to inspire confidence. Enzinas, however, inquired of him whither he was going. The man replied, 'To Antwerp; and if you please to get up, the carriage is quite ready.' This man was an agent of the inquisitors, the secretary Louis de Zoëte. He was one of the great enemies of the Reformation; he had instituted the proceedings against Enzinas, and had mustered the witnesses for the prosecution. He was now on his way to Antwerp, as bearer of a sentence of condemnation issuing from the imperial court, by virtue of which he was to order the burning of any evangelicals then in prison. The meeting was not a pleasant one. Enzinas and De Zoëte had probably only casually seen each other. The young Spaniard, therefore, not recognizing his enemy, might with pleasure avail himself of his offer. In this case it was more than probable that he would be recognized during the journey by the police spy, whose business was to track and seize suspected persons, as a hunting dog tracks the game. Zoëte might possibly find means of adding another to the list of those whom he was going to burn alive. 'Get into the carriage,' said Enzinas to the Brussels friend who accompanied him. He got in. The door of the hotel at which Francis had knocked was not yet opened. While waiting the two friends, one in the carriage, the other in the street, were talking on various subjects; and the owner of the carriage hearing them took part likewise in the conversation. At length the door opened. 'Go with this gentleman,' said Francis to his friend; 'for my part I must travel faster, and shall go on horseback.' The people of the inn, who were acquainted with him, welcomed him with great demonstrations of joy; and on learning his position gave him a good horse. Without losing a moment he mounted and set out. He soon overtook the carriage and saluted its occupants. 'Make good speed,' said his friend. 'I will go so fast,' he replied, 'that if all the scoundrels in Brussels are determined to pursue me they shall not catch me.' It seems impossible that De Zoëte should not have heard this, and it must have given him something to think about.[157]

[Sidenote: A LEGEND.]

In two hours Enzinas was at Antwerp. Unwilling to expose his kinsmen and friends to danger, he alighted at an inn, with which he was doubtless familiar, as he had already been at Antwerp several times, and in which he believed that he should be safe. In the evening his travelling companion arrived at Antwerp. As soon as he saw Enzinas he exclaimed: 'You will be greatly astonished to hear in what company I have come, and who it is that you talked so much with at Mechlin!' 'Who was he, then?' 'The worst man in the whole country, Louis de Zoëte.' Enzinas thanked God that he had so spell-bound the eyes and the mind of the persecutor, that while he saw and spoke with him he had not recognized him. The next day two persons from Brussels, strangers to Enzinas, arrived at the inn. Enzinas meeting them at table or elsewhere, said to them: 'What news from Brussels?' 'A great miracle has just taken place there,' they replied. 'And pray what may it be?' 'There was a Spaniard who had lain in prison for fifteen months, and had never been able to obtain either his release or his trial. But the host which we worship has procured him a miraculous deliverance. The other evening, just at nightfall, the air suddenly shone around him with great brightness. The three gates of the prison opened miraculously before him, and he passed forth from the prison and from the town, still lighted by that splendor.' 'See, my dear master,' said Enzinas afterwards to Melanchthon, 'the foolishness of the popular fancy, which in so short a time dressed up in falsehood a certain amount of truth. It is quite true that three gates were found open, else I should not have got out. But as to the brightness, the light of which they speak, I saw no other than that of the lanterns of passengers in the street.[158] I attribute my deliverance not to the wonderful sacrament which these idolaters worship, but solely to the great mercy of God, who deigned to hear the prayers of his church.'

Along with this popular rumor another was current in Brussels, but in higher circles. The emperor was at this time at Brussels, which town he did not leave till April 30, 1545. Don Francis de Enzinas was not an ordinary prisoner; not a working-man, a cutler, like Giles Tielmans. An eminent family, a good education, learned attainments, talents, the title of Spaniard, and of a Spaniard highly spoken of in high places, these were things greatly esteemed by many at court. Charles the Fifth himself was far from being unconscious of their importance. He had promised his protection to Enzinas if there were nothing bad in his book, and many persons assured him that there was, on the contrary, nothing but good in it. How, then, could he put to death a scholar for having translated into good Spanish the inspired book of the Christians? According to public rumor the judges had said: 'We can not honorably extricate ourselves from this cause; the best plan is to set the man free secretly.' It was added that when the jailer had announced the flight of Enzinas to the president, the latter had replied: 'Let him go, and do not trouble about it; only do not let it be spoken of.' If this version were the true one, it would explain the circumstance of Zoëte's not appearing to recognize Enzinas. But Enzinas himself did not credit it, and it is probable that it had no better foundation than the first story.

[Sidenote: CALVIN AND ENZINAS.]

Francis remained a month at Antwerp. On his release from prison he had sent the news to his friends, and had received their congratulations. Among these friends were two of the most illustrious of the reformers, Calvin and Melanchthon, between whom, whatever may be thought of it, there were many points of resemblance. Calvin was the man, said Enzinas, whom he had always most warmly loved.[159] He had written a short letter to him, somewhat unpolished in style.[160] Calvin replied to his friend immediately in a letter which breathed the most affectionate feeling, and which Francis thought very remarkable. It praised his labors and his Christian conduct. 'Oh,' said Enzinas, 'in how kindly a manner he can speak of things which in themselves are not deserving of praise!'[161] This singular kindliness of Calvin, which then struck all his friends, has since been much called in question. Enzinas replied to him (August 3): 'Our friendship,' said he, 'is now sealed; between us there is a sacred and perpetual alliance, which can only be broken by the death of one of us. What do I say? I have this sweet hope, that when bodily ties shall be broken, we shall enjoy this friendship in a future life with more exquisite delight than we can in this mortal flesh. Not till then shall we live a life truly blessed, and one which shall endure forever in the presence of God and in the society of the holy angels. Nevertheless, while we are still in this exile, and while we labor earnestly and unremittingly in our calling, each according to the ability which he has received from the Lord, let us cultivate our friendship by fulfilling all its obligations. My dear Calvin, I have a most grateful sense of the affection which you profess for me, and I will spare no pains to make myself worthy of it. You will find in me a sincere friend.... With respect to the pamphlet which you have addressed to the States of the Empire, Luther has read it and praises it very heartily. Melanchthon very highly approves it. Cruciger is wonderfully fond of you, and can not sufficiently commend any production of yours. As to the censures of others you need not trouble yourself about them.'[162]

Enzinas not only wrote to Melanchthon, but also went to him. He arrived at Wittenberg in March, rather more than two years after leaving the town. He related in detail to his master what had befallen him, and what he had seen during these two years; and Melanchthon, struck with his narrative, begged him to write and publish it. 'An account of the cruelties practised towards Christian people in the Netherlands,' he said, 'which you have seen with your own eyes, and which you have in part experienced, for your life was in danger, might if published be of great service for the future.'[163] Enzinas at first hesitated. 'At the very time,' said he, 'when I was driven about by the fury of the tempest, I endured patiently my personal sufferings, considering them by far inferior to the perils of my brethren. How then can I, in this hour when, thanks be to God, I am in port, set myself to recount my own history, in seeming forgetfulness of the wounds of the church?' As Melanchthon pressed the point, Francis declared that he would yield in obedience to his command. The friend of Luther, thus satisfied, wrote to Camerarius (April 16, 1545): 'Our Spaniard, Francis, has returned, miraculously delivered, without any human aid, at least so far as he knows. I have begged him to write an account of these things, and I will send it to thee.' The interest which Melanchthon took in these facts perhaps justifies the place which we have assigned them in the history of the Reformation.

[Sidenote: JAMES ENZINAS AT ROME.]

Other sorrows were to overtake the Spaniards who were scattered about far from their native land. James Enzinas, the eldest brother of Francis, had hardly got his Spanish catechism printed at Antwerp before he received his father's orders to go to Rome. The ambitious father was desirous of honors and fortune for his eldest son. He was aware of James's talents, but he was unaware of his attachment to the evangelical faith, and had no doubt that if he were at Rome he would make his way to the higher dignities of the church. It was glory of another kind which James was to find there. He was bitterly grieved; he would have greatly preferred to go to Wittenberg. But his conscience was so tender, his character so simple and straightforward, his obedience to his father so absolute, that he felt bound in duty to set out for the metropolis of the papacy. There he spent two or three years, taking no pleasure in it, sorrowing over all that he witnessed, and not by any means ingratiating himself with the hierarchy. His abilities, his attainments, his character were esteemed; but he was far from gaining any thing thereby. On the contrary, melancholy, dissatisfaction, and even disgust, took possession of him at every thing around him. He saw things not only contrary to Christian truth, but contrary to uprightness and to virtue. He felt that he was in a wrong position, and entreated his father to allow him to leave Italy, but in vain. The old man, considering the path which two of his sons were pursuing in Germany, probably believed that he should at least save the eldest by keeping him at Rome. The frank disposition of James did not allow him entirely to hide his convictions, especially from his fellow-countrymen. Francis also, who knew him well, was very much alarmed about him. He had no doubt that his brother, if he remained at Rome, would be ruined. He therefore implored him to cross the Alps. James did not indulge in any delusions. He knew that, instead of the honors of which his father was dreaming, he could hope for nothing in the city of the pope but disgrace and death. He determined, therefore, to yield to the entreaties of his brother, and made ready to depart.

He might, doubtless, have quitted Rome by stratagem, and have secretly escaped. But he was too candid entirely to conceal his purpose. One of his countrymen was informed of it and hastened to denounce him to the Inquisition as a heretic. James was then arrested and thrown into strict confinement. His arrest made a great noise. A Spaniard accused of Lutheranism! A man of learning and of an ancient family opposed to the Church! An enemy of the pope living close by the pope! What strange things! The Inquisition, therefore, determined to make of this trial an imposing affair. There was 'a great assembly of the Romans' to attend at his examination. James appeared in the presence not only of the inquisitors, but also of the cardinals, bishops, and all Spaniards of eminence then at Rome, and of several members of the Roman clergy. If the popes had been unable, notwithstanding their efforts, to keep Luther in their hands, they had now at least one of his disciples in their power. James Enzinas, in the presence of this imposing assembly, perceived that God gave him suddenly, and at Rome itself, an opportunity of glorifying him and of doing, once for all, the work to which he had desired to consecrate his whole life. He took courage. He understood perfectly well that the 'lion's mouth' was opening before him, the gulf of death. But neither the solemnity of the hour, nor the brilliancy of the court, nor the thought that he was about to be swept away by a fatal stroke, nor all that was dear to him on earth, could make him swerve from the straight path. 'He maintained with great constancy,' says the chronicler, 'and with holy boldness the true doctrine of the Gospel.' He did more. Standing thus in the presence of the princes of the Roman church, and of all their pomp, he thought that fidelity required him to expose their errors. 'He forthwith condemned,' says the narrator, 'the impieties and diabolical impositions of the great Roman antichrist.' At these words a thrill ran through the assembly. The whole court was in commotion. The prelates, annoyed at what they heard, were agitated as if under the influence of some acute nervous irritation. They cried out in astonishment and anger. The Spaniards especially could not contain themselves. 'All at once, not only the cardinals, but those of his own country who were present, began to cry aloud that he ought to be burnt.'[164]

[Sidenote: HIS MARTYRDOM.]

After a little reflection, however, the court was of a different opinion. If the Spaniard should publicly condemn in Rome his so-called errors, the glory of the papacy, it was thought, would be all the greater. The speaker was surrounded and was told that if he would appear in the public square and retract his heresies, the Church would once more receive him as one of her children. His fellow-countrymen pressed around him and depicted the honors to which he might then attain. But on such a condition he would not redeem his life. He would rather glorify Christ and die. The wrath of his enemies burst forth afresh. 'These fierce ministers of all impiety and cruelty,' says the chronicler, 'became more violent than before.' James then ascended the pile, asserting with immovable courage that all his hope was in Christ. 'Unawed by the pompous display which surrounded him, and by the ostentatious devotion of his countrymen, with his heart ever fixed on God, he passed on boldly and firmly into the midst of the flames, confessing the name and the truth of the Son of God to his latest breath. Thus did this good servant of God end his life by a glorious martyrdom, in the midst of all impiety, and, wonderful to tell, in the very city of Rome.'[165]

At the news of his death his brothers and his friends were filled with sorrow. Francis at first felt only the blow which had fallen on his tenderest affections. At the very time when he was in daily expectation of embracing his brother he learnt that all that was left of him was a handful of ashes which were cast into the Tiber. This cruel death, taking place just when Charles the Fifth was endeavoring to crush Protestantism, and the black clouds which were gathering in all directions, filled him with the most melancholy thoughts. 'God is surely preparing some great dispensation of which we know nothing,' he said. All around he saw only disorder and confusion. In this hour of dejection he received a sympathetic and consoling letter from Calvin.[166] The reformer directed his friend's thoughts to the blessed life which is after death, and in which it is the privilege of the faithful to dwell with Christ. 'I am not ignorant,' replied Enzinas, 'how true are the things which you write to me. But we are men, and the infirmities of the flesh beset us. We can not, nay, we ought not, to cast off all sense of sorrow. But in the midst of this distress I rejoice that there was given to this brave Christian so much constancy in the profession of the truth, and I am persuaded that for some wise purpose my brother has been removed to that eternal assembly of the blessed, in which the loftiest spirits now greet him with this song of triumph: _These are they who have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb_.' Francis in his grief did not forget his native land. 'God grant,' said he, 'that the tidings of this divine fire,[167] wherewith my brother's soul glowed, may be diffused in every part of Spain, to the end that the noblest minds, stimulated by his example, may at length repent of the impiety in which at present they are living.' This letter from Enzinas to Calvin was written from Basel, April 14, 1547.