ly reduced to submission to papal
authority. "The Lutherans of Meaux" had passed into a proverb.
Persecuted, they retained their devotion to their new faith; compelled
to observe strict secrecy, they multiplied to such a degree that their
numbers could no longer be concealed. Twenty years after their
destruction had been resolved upon, the necessity of a regular church
organization made itself felt by the growing congregations. Some of the
members had visited the church of Strasbourg, to which John Calvin had,
a few years before, given an orderly system of government and
worship--the model followed by many Protestant churches of subsequent
formation. On their return a similar polity was established in Meaux. A
simple wool-carder, Pierre Leclerc, brother of one of the first martyrs
of Protestant France, was called from the humble pursuits of the artisan
to the responsible post of pastor. He was no scholar in the usual
acceptation of the term; he knew only his mother-tongue. But his
judgment was sound, his piety fervent, his familiarity with the Holy
Scriptures singularly great. So fruitful were his labors, that the
handful of hearers grew into assemblies often of several hundreds, drawn
to Meaux from villages five or six leagues distant.

[Sidenote: A woman's pointed remark.]

[Sidenote: A favorite psalm.]

Betrayed by their size, the conventicles came to the knowledge of the
magistrates, and on the eighth of September, 1546, a descent was made
upon the worshipping Christians. Sixty-two persons composed the
gathering. The lieutenant and provost of the city, with their meagre
suite, could easily have been set at defiance. But the announcement of
arrest in the king's name prevented any attempt either at resistance on
their part, or at rescue on that of their friends. Respecting the
authority of law, the Protestants allowed themselves to be bound and led
away by an insignificant detachment of officers. Only the pointed remark
of one young woman to the lieutenant, as she was bound, has come down to
us: "Sir, had you found me in a brothel, as you now find me in so holy
and honorable a company, you would not have used me thus." As the
prisoners passed through the streets of Meaux, their friends neither
interfered with the ministers of justice, nor exhibited solicitude for
their own safety; but accompanying them, as in a triumphal procession,
loudly gave expression to their trust in God, by raising one of their
favorite psal