DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.63221#0163
THE MYSTICS OF MEAUX
125
he died. “Madame,” he said, “I have reached the age of
a hundred and one, and I do not remember committing
any fault with which to burden my conscience now that I
am leaving this world—unless it be one only, which I feel
it is impossible to expiate. How can I exist before the
Tribunal of God—I who have taught the Gospel of His
Son, in all its pristine purity, to so many who have suf-
fered death for Him, whilst I have always managed to
escape it ? And this, too, in an age when, far from fearing
it, I ought to have desired it.” Margaret tried to comfort
him, and she reasoned so well that at last he said, “ There
is nothing left for me to do but to go to my God Whom
I hear calling me.” Then, turning his eyes on her, he beg-
ged her to be his executrix; he left his books to Roussel,
his clothes to the poor, and recommended the rest to the
care of God. “ And what of all your fortune comes to
me?” she asked. “The trouble of distributing my posses-
sions among the poor,” he replied. “Gladly will I do it,”
said she; “ and I swear that this gives me more pleasure
than if my brother, the King, had made me his heiress.”
Thereupon he said farewell to those at table, and went
straightway to his bed, where he died so gently that every-
one thought he was asleep.
Perhaps Lefebre d’Etaples was right about himself and
he had, by his retirement, committed an unconscious crime
against the French Reformation. But in England Protest-
antism established itself without the existence of great
leaders. Had Francis I been a strong-willed and clear-
sighted man of action, like Henry VIII—or had he even
remained faithful to his trust as the Patron of Reason and
125
he died. “Madame,” he said, “I have reached the age of
a hundred and one, and I do not remember committing
any fault with which to burden my conscience now that I
am leaving this world—unless it be one only, which I feel
it is impossible to expiate. How can I exist before the
Tribunal of God—I who have taught the Gospel of His
Son, in all its pristine purity, to so many who have suf-
fered death for Him, whilst I have always managed to
escape it ? And this, too, in an age when, far from fearing
it, I ought to have desired it.” Margaret tried to comfort
him, and she reasoned so well that at last he said, “ There
is nothing left for me to do but to go to my God Whom
I hear calling me.” Then, turning his eyes on her, he beg-
ged her to be his executrix; he left his books to Roussel,
his clothes to the poor, and recommended the rest to the
care of God. “ And what of all your fortune comes to
me?” she asked. “The trouble of distributing my posses-
sions among the poor,” he replied. “Gladly will I do it,”
said she; “ and I swear that this gives me more pleasure
than if my brother, the King, had made me his heiress.”
Thereupon he said farewell to those at table, and went
straightway to his bed, where he died so gently that every-
one thought he was asleep.
Perhaps Lefebre d’Etaples was right about himself and
he had, by his retirement, committed an unconscious crime
against the French Reformation. But in England Protest-
antism established itself without the existence of great
leaders. Had Francis I been a strong-willed and clear-
sighted man of action, like Henry VIII—or had he even
remained faithful to his trust as the Patron of Reason and