The most serious causes always find defenders among trivial men, who do not thoroughly understand them, but yet despise their adversaries. The Reformation has no reason to be proud of some of its auxiliaries in the sixteenth century. A serious cause ought to be seriously defended; but history cannot pass by these manifestations, which are as much in her domain as those of another kind. Satire was not spared in this matter. The students especially delighted in it: they posted up a long placard, written carefully with ornamented letters in French verse, in which the four theologians were described in the liveliest and most fantastic colours.[333] Two of their colleagues were also introduced, for the four doctors on whom the king's wrath had fallen were not the only criminals. A cordelier especially was notorious for his curious sermons, full of bad French and bad Latin, and still more notorious for the clever and popular eloquence he displayed, whenever a collection was to be made in favour of his order. This Pierre Cornu, who had been nicknamed _des Cornes_, was wonderfully touched off in the poem of the students. Groups of scholars, burgesses, and Parisian wits gathered round the placards, some bursting with laughter and others with anger. The vehement and ridiculous Cornu especially excited the mirth of the idlers. A profane author who had nothing to do with the Reformation, speaks of him in his writings:—'Ha! ha! Master Cornu,' said one, 'you are not the only man to have horns.... Friend Bacchus wears a pair; and so do Pan, and Jupiter Ammon and hosts besides.'—'Ha! ha! dear Master Cornibus,' said another, 'give me an ounce of your sermon, and I will make the collection in your parish.' Strange circumstance! The public voice seemed at this time opposed to these forerunners of the preachers of the League. The Sorbonne, however, had friends who replied to these jests by bursts of passion. 'The man who wrote these verses is a heretic,' they exclaimed.[334] From insults they passed to threats; from threats they came to blows, and the struggle began. The bigots wished to pull down the placard. A creature of the Faculty succeeded; springing into the air, he tore it down and ran off with his spoil.[335] Then the crowd dispersed. [Sidenote: SORBONNE CALLS FOR THE STAKE.] In that age placards played a great part, similar to that played by certain pamphlets in later times. There was no need to buy them at the bookseller's; everybody could read the impromptu tracts at the corners of the streets. Rome was not in the humour to leave these powerful weapons in the hands of her enemies, and the Sorbonne determined to appeal to the people against the abhorred race of innovators. It did not jest, like the youth of the schools; it went straight to the point, and invoked the stake against its adversaries. Two days after that on which the former placard was posted up, another was found on the walls, containing these unpolished verses: