During nearly four years and a half the affectionate pastor went in and out among his Huguenot brethren, and the Lord blessed him in his work. His beloved wife and family were sorely needing his help and company, however; so, at the end of that period, he left France to visit them. His own health was also greatly shattered, so much so that even to his wife he scarcely looked the same man. In the happy society of those he loved best on earth, Monsieur Brousson recovered a little more strength, and this he longed again to spend in the service of his Lord, and with His people.
So the devoted pastor resumed his faithful labors, even during the fifteen months which he spent in Lausanne. The scattered Huguenots in other countries were also, for a time, the objects of his care. He therefore visited Holland and England, where many such had taken refuge. After this, he again went to France, comforted many friends by private visits, and also held a large secret meeting near Sedan. A few more visits to dear ones in Holland, a little while in the bosom of his family, and a third time the brave Monsieur Brousson went forth to his native land, no more to leave it, till he went on high to be with the Lord.
At last the popish authorities had the satanic pleasure of capturing the noble, fearless pastor. A letter written by himself to a protestant friend, fell into the hands of an informer bearing the same name. The latter speedily made the fact known, and in consequence, Monsieur Brousson was arrested by the authorities. He submitted in meekness, acknowledging with all openness that his name was Claude Brousson. Imprisonment in various places followed, until Montpellier was reached. On his way thither he could very easily have escaped while his guards slept, but he was too honorable to steal his liberty. After being kept for a time in the citadel of Montpellier, he was led forth to undergo a mock trial. The judges had but one end before them, and that was the death of this notable Huguenot. Still, with a show of justice, the trial began, and charges were formally made against the prisoner.
Brousson owned to that which was true, such as preaching contrary to the king’s command. But he firmly denied the false, when he was charged with an attempt to bring a foreign army into the country. Of course, his words were unheeded, and sentence was pronounced against him. Calmly the brave man listened to what lay before him, yet wavered not. The torture of the rack was first to be his, then his bones were to be broken on the wheel, and finally he was to be executed. In perfect submission he heard it all, and when the moment came, he bore unmurmuringly every blow which the wrath of man chose to put upon him.
The sufferings of the rack were generally used to extort from the victim the names of others like-minded with himself. Every effort thus to obtain information from Claude Brousson was, by the grace of God, totally unsuccessful.
Seeing how unavailing these proved, his persecutors then ceased their attempts to obtain information by such means. The priests, as usual, did their utmost to make him recant, but all in vain. God kept His dear servant firm and steadfast during that dreadful ordeal, and all it entailed.
The final part of the sentence passed upon Monsieur Brousson was carried out at Montpellier, on the fourth of November, 1698. It was sunset, and an unusually large crowd of people collected to see the end of such a noted man. The number was considered to be at least twenty thousand. Many came out of mere curiosity, and not a few because of their enmity to the preacher, who had long told out the love of God to suffering men and women. A large number of those, however, who mingled in that multitude, in all probability, were there out of affection for the self-denying pastor. The sight was to them one of pain and sorrow, yet they lingered around their loved one during his last moments, hoping once again to hear his welcome voice.
The place was an elevated part of the town called the Peyrou, then used principally for the execution of those who refused to worship according to the king’s religion. Everything connected with it as a spot where man’s hatred to God was displayed, caused it to be a vile spot indeed while Louis XIV. reigned in France. Nature had made it extremely attractive, for a splendid view of the works of God met one’s view on every side. The distant snow-capped mountains, the beautiful Cevennes, and the sparkling waters of the Mediterranean, gave each their own peculiar beauty to the scene. In the present day it forms a very fine promenade, and is greatly admired.
Degraded as the Peyrou was in the days of Claude Brousson and the many who suffered there, yet the loveliness of nature was the same then as now. As that devoted man mounted the scaffold, his heart and lips were occupied with God while he passed slowly onwards. Soldiers guarded that man of peace, but they little knew how satisfied he was to exchange the earth for the heavens. He attempted to say a few parting words of affection to the loved ones in the crowd, but many drums were beaten to drown his voice, so that nothing could be heard. Then, at last, amid the din and noise of the world around, that happy spirit was freed to wing its way from the hatred of man, to the presence of God, whose love is everlasting.
Let me now carry my young reader in thought to a touching incident which occurred farther north, towards the close of the same century, bringing death more rapidly than was the case with Claude Brousson the Huguenot.
Marion Cameron was a young Scotch-woman, well known for her piety, and beloved by many. The dragoons who were then ever on the search for such victims in Scotland, heard of her, and went, without delay, to take her from the quiet of home, to cruel punishment. With two friends, however, she succeeded in escaping their grasp, and fled to a moor close by. There the three companions hid themselves from their pursuers, causing the latter to be completely baffled for a time. But, alas! it was only for a very brief space indeed. Marion and her two friends were wearied with their flight, and accordingly looked for a suitable place to rest their aching bodies. When this was obtained, they committed themselves to the care of God by prayer, and desired also to sing one of the psalms. Therefore, fearless of the consequences, their voices rang soft and clear through the air, while their hearts were glad and rejoicing in the Lord. It was a hateful yet welcome sound to the soldiers whose ears the notes had reached. Hateful, for they loved neither God, His people, nor His Word; welcome, because it betrayed more victims for their merciless swords.
When the spot was reached, the soldiers found themselves face to face with the friends whom they sought. The latter were now at their mercy, and the malice of the soldiers’ hearts rejoiced in the fact. Yet they made a show of offering a way of escape. Life was offered to the three Christians on the condition that they would burn their Bibles. A miserable alternative, indeed, which was instantly refused by the noble trio! Full well the soldiers knew that it would be so. They only sought an excuse for shedding the blood of these helpless victims.
Inflamed with Satanic zeal, these wretched messengers of royalty leveled their guns and fired. The aim was sure and those three faithful ones who had been friends in life passed out of it together. Away from the sorrows of earth and time, they left the turmoil of the present scene, for the eternal joys of the Lord’s presence. After the departure of the soldiers, kind and sorrowing neighbors hastened to the moor where the dead bodies lay. Many a tear was shed over those youthful martyrs, for they had been truly loved. After a grave had been dug, loving hands committed “dust to dust,” there to sleep in peace till the resurrection morn shall dawn.
Such scenes make one think of the words of Psalm 102:19-2019For he hath looked down from the height of his sanctuary; from heaven did the Lord behold the earth; 20To hear the groaning of the prisoner; to loose those that are appointed to death; (Psalm 102:19‑20): “For he hath looked down from the height of his sanctuary; from heaven did the Lord behold the earth; to hear the groaning of the prisoner, to loose those that are appointed to death.” With what tender pity and love must the eyes of God fall upon such a spectacle, and how truly His ear is open to the cry of the oppressed. But, on the other hand, He beholds the evil as well as the good, and will not forget the sorrows which the enmity of man has brought on His people. What a solemn day of reckoning has yet to be met by those who are to be “judged according to their works!”
Think of the thousands who have found a fiendish pleasure in shedding the blood of the saints of God. Could we name them each one, what a long and terrible list would rise up before us! Yet all are known to God, not one will be forgotten, not one whose body will continue in the grave after that moment when called to stand before God. Ah! what a contrast will that scene before the “great white throne” be to the triumph of their deadly deeds here! On earth they acted as kings, queens, noblemen, judges, officers, soldiers, exercising their human authority. Popes, prelates, priests, and all the would-be dignitaries of popish rule, held their sway till death took them hence. But what are they all in that awful day yet to come, as pictured in Rev. 20? John writes: “The sea gave up the dead which were in it; and death and hell delivered up the dead which was in them: and they were judged every man according to their works.”
My clear reader, you may not have been guilty as these men were, but if you are judged according to your works, where will you be in that day of woe?