lows begun to fall upon the backs of the
pedlers, when some of the magistrates themselves threw their cloaks
around the culprits, whose confiscated books were afterward secretly
returned to them, or bought and paid for.[626] To such a formidable
height had this irregularity grown, that, on the very day upon which the
confirmation of the three proposed inquisitors-general was made, Henry
published a new edict (at Compiegne, on the twenty-fourth of July, 1557)
intended to secure an adherence to the penalties prescribed by previous
laws. The reader of this edict, remembering the frequency with which the
_estrapade_ had done its bloody work for the last quarter of a century,
will not be astonished to read that the punishment of death is affixed
to the secret or public profession of any other religion than the Roman
Catholic. But he will rejoice, for the sake of our common humanity, to
learn that "it very frequently happens that our said judges are moved
with pity by _the holy and malicious words_ of those found guilty of the
said crimes;" and that, to secure the uniform infliction of the extreme
penalty upon the professors of the reformed faith, it was now necessary
for the king to remove from the judges the slightest pretext or
authority for mitigating the sentence that condemned a Protestant to the
flames or gallows.[627]

[Sidenote: Defeat of St. Quentin, Aug. 10, 1557.]

Under cover of the war during three years, Protestantism made rapid
strides in France. But the contest itself was disastrous to its
originators. The constable, having, when hostilities had once been
undertaken contrary to his advice, been unwilling to resign the chief
command to which his office entitled him, assumed the defence of Paris
from the north, while to his younger rival in arms, the Duke of Guise,
was assigned the more brilliant part in the enterprise--the conquest of
the kingdom of Naples. Montmorency's success, however, fell far short of
the reputation he enjoyed for consummate generalship. Not only did he
fail to relieve his nephews Coligny and D'Andelot, who had shut
themselves up with a handful of men in the fortress of St. Quentin; but
he himself (on the tenth of August, 1557) met with a signal defeat in
which the flower of the French army was routed, and many of its leaders,
including the constable himself, were taken prisoners.[628]

[Sidenote: Rage against the "Lutherans."]

The French capital was thrown into a paroxysm of fear on