These thoughts naturally occur to us as we approach an epoch when a persecuting fanaticism broke out in France, when scaffolds were raised in the streets of Paris, and when acts of terrible cruelty were enthusiastically applauded by a royal cortége. These rights of conscience, which we record, are not new. They date neither from our century, nor from the sixteenth. The Saviour established them when he said: '_Render unto Cæsar the things which are Cæsar's, and_ UNTO GOD THE THINGS THAT ARE GOD'S.' Since that hour they have been maintained by many courageous voices. During three centuries the martyrs said to the pagan emperors: 'Is it not an irreligious act to forbid my worshipping the God whom I like, and to force me to worship the god whom I dislike?'[8] In the fourth century Athanasius and Hilary told the Arian princes: 'Satan uses violence, he dashes in the doors with an axe ... but persuasion is the only weapon truth employs.'[9] In later years, when the barbarians desired to bend the Church under the weight of brute force, the hitherto servile clergy declared as loudly as they could that religious doctrine did not fall under the dominion of the temporal sword. [Sidenote: ROME, A PERSECUTING POWER.] When, therefore, in the bloody days of the Reformation, the power of Rome, uniting in some countries with the power of the princes, wished to constrain men's souls and force them to submit to its laws, the evangelical christians, by claiming liberty in their turn, only asserted the great principle of Jesus Christ formerly adopted by the Church herself. But, strange to say! this principle which she had found so admirable, when she had to employ it in self-defence, became impious when it was appealed to in order to escape from her persecutions. Such inconsistencies frequently occur in the history of fallen humanity. We must call them to remembrance though it be with sorrow. There have always existed many generous persons in the bosom of catholicity who have protested with horror against the frightful punishments by which it was attempted to make our forefathers renounce their faith; and there are still more now, for the laws of religious liberty are gradually becoming established among nations. But we must never forget that two centuries of cruel persecution was the welcome the world gave to the Reformation. When the day of St. Bartholomew saw the streets of the capital of the Valois run with blood,—when ruffians glutted their savage passions on the corpse of that best and greatest of Frenchmen, Coligny—immense was the enthusiasm at Rome, and a fierce shout of exultation rang through the pontifical city.[10] Wishing to perpetuate the glory of the massacre of the huguenots, the pope ordered a medal to be struck, representing that massacre and bearing the device: _Hugonotorum strages_. The officers of the Roman court still sell (as we know personally) this medal to all who desire to carry away some remembrance of their city.