sopher Ramus.]

No loss was more sensibly felt by the scientific world than that of the
learned Pierre de la Ramee, or Ramus, a philosopher second to none of his
day. The professor might possibly have escaped if his only offence had
been his Protestant views; but Ramus had had the temerity to attack
Aristotle, and to attempt to reform the faulty pronunciation of the Latin
language. For these unpardonable sins he was tracked to the cellar in
which he had hidden, by a band of robbers under the guidance of Jacques
Charpentier, a jealous rival, with whom he had had acrimonious
discussions. After being compelled to give up a considerable sum of money,
he was despatched with daggers, and thrown from an upper window into the
court of his college. Never was philosophic heterodoxy more thoroughly
punished; for if the whipping, dragging through the filthy streets, and
dismembering of a corpse by indignant students with the approval of their
teachers, could atone for such grave errors, the anger of the illustrious
Stagirite must have been fully appeased. If anything can clearly exhibit
the depth of moral degradation to which Roman Catholic France had fallen,
it is the fact that Charpentier unblushingly accepted the praise which was
liberally showered upon him for his participation in this disgraceful
affair.[1037]

[Sidenote: President Pierre de la Place.]

Scarcely less signal a misfortune to France was the murder of Pierre de la
Place, president of the Cour d'Aides, whose excellent "Commentaries on the
State of Religion and the Republic" constitute one of our best guides
through the short reign of Francis the Second and the early part of the
reign of Charles the Ninth. This eminent jurist, even more distinguished
as a writer on Christian morals than as a historian, had first embraced
the Reformation at a time when the recent martyrdom of Anne du Bourg
served as a significant reminder of the perils attending a profession of
Protestant views. President de la Place had been visited in his house
early in the morning, on the first day of the massacre, by Captain Michel,
an arquebusier of the king, who, entering boldly with his weapons and with
the white napkin bound on his left arm, informed him of the death of
Coligny, and the fate in reserve for the rest of the Huguenots. The
soldier pretended that the king wished to exempt La Place from the general
slaughter, and bade him accompany him to the Louvre. However, a gift of a
thousan