A Spectacle for vsurers and succors of poore folkes bloud whereby they may see, Gods iust dislike and reuenge, vpon their vncharitable and vnciuill oppression, with a horrible murther committed by a young man, that hanged his owne mother in August last, 1606.

A Spectacle for Vſurers and Succers of poore folkes bloud.

Whereby they may ſee, Gods iuſt diſlike and reuenge, vpon their vncharitable and Vnciuill oppreſsion.

With a horrible murther committed by a young man, that hanged his owne Mother in Auguſt laſt. 1606.

depiction of usurer being devoured by rats

Imprinted at London for Iohn Wright, and are to be ſold at his ſhop neere Chriſts-Church gate. 1606.

A true treatiſe, declaring how miraculouſly an Vſurer was deuoured by Rats, at Charret neere to the citty of Aix in Prouence, within the Kingdome of France, on the ſecond day of Auguſt. 1606. According to the French Copie, printed at Lions, by Leger Bonhomme.

AH, what a world is this, when we muſt haue amongeſt vs, who are baptiſed in the name of Chriſt Jeſus, and doe carry the names of Chriſtians, men ſo voyde of all charity, and ſo without all humanity towards their neighbours, that they are not aſhamed by all forts of greedy couetouſneſſe and extortions, as by vnreaſonable enhaunſing the price of victualls, and all other cruell and vnkind meanes, to oppreſſe and vtterly vndoe their poore Chriſtian brethren and ſiſters, without any remorſe or pitty to the fatherleſſe children, or diſtreſſed widowes, as I may ſay, that we ſeeme rather to liue among Jewes, than Chriſtians? Yea, it may be auouched, that the Turkes and Saracins, I had almoſt ſaid, the very ſauage and brutiſh Americanes, would be aſhamed to plot and practiſe ſuch horrible and accurſed meanes, for the ſpoyling and pining of poore Chriſtians, as is daily practiſed among vs, who make, profeſſion to haue beene trayned in Chriſt his ſchoole. Which might iuſtly make to bluſh for ſhame our Vſurers, and vnſatiable greedy minded men, who care for nothing but inriching themſelues: although it be with the ruine and vtter vndoing of infinite poore people, whō they ſuffer, yea cauſe to periſh. Whoſe cries vndoubtedly do aſcend vnto theeares of the Lord, and he being a iuſt Iudge, will be auenged thereon. And though he puniſh not viſibly in this life alwayes the vnmercifulneſſe of wicked worldlings: yet hath he ſundry times ſhewed fearefull tokens of his diſpleaſure againſt ſuch dealings: Among which, marke this notable example following.

Vpon the ſecond day of Auguſt laſt paſt, in the yeare of Grace 1606, at Charret, a little towne nere to the Citty of Aix in Prouence, within the Kingdome of France, there dwelt a rich Vſurer, named George Rolet, of the age of about fifty yeares. Hee had three Graniers full of Corne, and two cellars full of wine, and much cattell of his owne, feeding on both ſides of Aix: beſides great ſtore of money that was owing him. And he neuerlent any money, or money worth, to any, without ſufficient pawnes, or elſe to men that were wealthy. And he ſo dealt by lending, as euery ſix moneths he would commonly double his principall: ſo vngraciouſly had he hardened his heart by wicked vſuryes and extortions to inrich himſelfe.

His wife was dead, hauing left him no childe neyther had he any body, for whom he might thus miſerably ſtrape theſe goods together, but one Neece: for to inrich whom, and to fulfill his owne vnſatiable couetouſneſſe, hee omitted no vile, and abhominable practiſes of vſury vnaſſaied, neuer regarding how wretchedly his ſoule were left quite abandoned of charity and al piety, wherby it became a bondſlaue to the Deuill, who as a hangman or executioner of Gods iuſt wrath againſt the wicked, pay thoſe their hire in the ende, that are ruled by him.

Now it ſo fel out, that this wretched Vſurer had not ſold any of his corne or wine that yeare, ſtaying vntill a time ſhould come when he might ſell it deerer. but when he ſaw the yeare ſo farre paſt, as he could hope for no greater price, he thought it beſt to ſet open his Graniers, and to ſell his corne: which he did vpon a Market day. And forthwith came haſting thether, manye people of ſundry ſexes & ages, for to buy Corne. Amongſt others came a poore woman a Widow, from a Village called Montalien, beeing a little league diſtant from thence. The womans name was Claudia Balme: who meaning to buy corne, aſked him, how hee ſold a buſhell? He anſwered, fiue ſhillings. What (ſayd ſhe) fiue ſhillings? Now that God beſtoweth ſuch plenty on vs, you might wel affoard it for three ſhillings. I had rather (ſayd he) be eaten vp with Rats, then I would let it go for leſſe then fiue.

There withall, at the ſame inſtant, comes another poore woman, from another Village not far off, called Werre in, to whom this Vſurer had lent foure crownes-worth of cor • e, vppon condition, that ſhe muſt pay him a third partmore then the price of the Market, and beſides, to pay ſix pence a moneth vſury for euery crowne: for aſſiſtance whereof, he had receyued of the ſayd woman, named Margaret Paſchall, ſeuen rings in pawne. This foreſaid day, came the ſaid Margaret Paſchall, and ſayd vnto him, Mayſter George Rolet, I haue brought you the money which I owe you, and I pray you giue mee my rings againe, He anſwered her, yes Goſſip, you ſhall. Then ſhe telling him out firſt the principall, and then the intereſt, demaundeth agayne ver rings. The Vſurer taketh her money and locketh it vp, & opening a cupbord▪ taketh out a folded paper, and deliuereth it vnto her, ſaying: Lo Goſſip, there be your goodes. She opening the paper, ands one of her rings wanting, where at being much grieued, ſhe ſayd vnto him. I haue payd you your full aſking. and yet I miſſe here one of my rings: I beſeech you deale not ſo hardly with met, as to keepe it, but let me haue it agayne. He denyed, that he had any mo of her then the ſixe. The woman, contrariwiſe auouched, that ſhee had deliuered to him ſeuen, deſcribing vnto him what manner of one it was, ſaying, that it was the firſt that euer her deceaſſed huſband had giuen her. He ſtill denyed it. The poore woman fell on weeping, and ſtill affirmed, that he had her ſayd ring. Hee after many other oathes and proteſtations, did in the ende (according to his vſuall manner of ſwearing, or rather of curſing himſelfe) beſeech God, for to ſuffer the Rats to eate and deuour him vp, if euer he had, or receiued any ſuch ring. This poore woman ſel on her knees, ſaying: I pray and moſt humbly beſeech God Almighty, that it may ſo come to paſſe, and that he ſhew ſome wonderfull token vpon you or mee, to make manifeſt whether of vs doo ſweare falſly: and I verily truſt, that God who is moſt iuſt, will declare miraculouſly, which of vs holdeth the trueth, and which the contrary.

She had ſcarce made an ende of her prayer, but immediatly there came (a wonderfull thing to teh an innumerable ſort of Rats, which ſet vpon this Vſurer, ſome on one part of him, ſome on another. And albeit his ſeruants ſought by all meanes to driue them a way, they laboured in vaine: for the more they hunted them away, the mo in multitudes came ſtill, more and more aſſayling him.

His friends and kinſfolke cauſed him to bee ſtripped, and ſo to bee wrapped in a cleane cloth, and to be carried a way into another lodging. But he was no ſooner brought thether, but theſe vermin Rats (as iuſt executors of Gods will) came running thether in flockes, and gnawed his body, who had miſerably ſucked, gnawed and deuoured the goods of very many poore people. And apply what remedies thoſe that were about him could doe by any meanes, yet could they not ſtay theſe Rats, but that in twenty & foure houres they had depriued him of his life. So he died the ſecond of Auguſt, in the yeare of our Lord 1606. about foure of the clocke in the afternoone. His friends and kinſfolke thought to make ſome funerall or buriall of the remainder of his body, which theſe little creatures had left: whereof they were deceyued, for before midnight, they had ſcarfe left him the leaſt ſhew of a body, but had carried all away: ſo as no man can tell what became thereof.

Thus may wee learne by this wicked mans miſerable ende, that wee are not created for our ſelues alone, but to be helpers and comforters one to another: and that we ought not by vſury, oppreſſion, and ſuch vniuſt meanes, to catch away, from others vncharitably and vnconſcionably, that which is not our owne. And much leſſe, that we ſhould in any wiſe ſweare by his name raſhly and falſely, who is a iuſt iudge and almighty. Neyther to curſe our ſelues but rather to pray for Gods dayly bleſſing. God for his mercyes ſake amend vs all.

A Treatiſe moſt true, of a curſed young youth of Remilly in Sauoy, who miſerably and ſhamefully ſtrangled and hanged his owne mother. With his puniſhment for the ſame, on Satterday the 19. of Auguſt. 1606.

According to the French Copie printed at Tholouſe by Peter Chantenefue.

NOtwithſtanding that the cruell murther, committed by that firſt murtherer Cain on the perſon of his brother, be left vnto all poſterityes mentioned, as a haynous wickedneſſe much diſpleaſing to God, and abhominable before men: yet haue there beene ſome found ſo inhumane and cruell, as they haue imitated, if not ſurpaſſed him in ſuch villany. For what ſhall we ſay of Nero, who moſt vnnaturally cauſed his owne mother to bee ſlaine, and her wombe to be ripped vp, that he might ſee the place where he lay during the time that his mother bare him? And not much leſſe deteſtably performed, will this treatiſe ſhewe a parricide.

At Remilly, a little towne of Sauoy, there dwelt a woman named Gaſparde Briſin, widow to one Anthony Moillon deceaſſed, and ſhe had a ſonne called George Moillon, now come to the age of neere twenty yeares. Her deceaſſed huſband, knowing her to be a thrifty howſwife, had by will certayne yeeres before, left her miſtreſſe and gouerneſſe of all his goods, without yeelding account thereof to any, before her ſonne were come to the age of twenty yeares: and then, if ſhe and he did not like to dwell together any longer, ſhe to haue her part of the land, with halfe of the goods, and a thouſand Florins ouerplus.

The ſonne now ſeeing himſelfe almoſt twenty yeeres old, kept ruffian like & diſordered company, which is too cōmon a thing now a dayes. He then muſt haunt tauerns, play, dance, and ryot luſtily. The mother, on the other ſide ſought to bridle this young colt, and would not let him haue too much money, for feare hee ſhould ſpoile himſelfe, with voluptuouſnes.

He ſtill was vrged by thoſe that kept him company, to force his mother to feede him with money, or elſe to ſel her yarne, linnen cloth, plate, or whatſoeuer elſe he could catch, & to make money therof. He, as pliable as waxe, to take any impreſſion, following their counſayle, was dayly at his mother for money. She, (though hardly) would now and then giue him a little: which not ſo ſoone receiued, but it was preſently ſpent. He then commeth for more, which not obtayning, he falls to threatning and to offer fowle ſpeeches vnto her.

At whitſontide laſt, the wake being at that place then when many youthes ſhould aſſemble, this yong man, among all other, would bee ſtored with money & ſpend prodigally among his cōpanions, tooke ſixe of the beſt wether ſheepe that were in his mothers paſture, and ſold them to the butcher. Then during the merriment, who but hee at danſing, banketting and play: ſo as the laſt of the three holidaies he had not a penny left him of ſixe crownes that he had receiued, and of whatſoeuer elſe he could ſteale from his mother. The ſame day commeth the ſhepheard, and his miſtris, enquiring of her ſheepe, and the number of her wethers, vnderſtood how her ſonne had ſold ſixe of them, comming in an euening where they were Shee aſked her ſonne, what he had done with the money that he had receiued for the wethers. He anſwered, that he had what to doo therwith, & that he would ſell many mo of them, giuing her ſundry bad words. She takes vp a cudgell to ſtrike him. But he, being wickedly bent, can to her, and did wring it out off her hands. Herevpon, ſhee being very angry, goeth out into the ſtreete to his companions that brought him to diſorder, willing thē not to maintaine her ſonne any more in his lewdnes, nor to cal him out to go with thē henceforth, & to cauſe him ſo fondly to ſpend his money. Her ſon very angry to ſee that his mother had vttered his faults in the open ſtreet, and that before yong maides, who mocked him therewith, hatcheth within his mind a miſche euous imaginatiō, & being tempted by the Deuill who watcheth how he may allure vs to yeeld vnto that which may worke our endles wo, ſo poſſeſſed this yong mans mind, that he purpoſed one night to kil his own mother. He vſed to lie in a bed by himſelfe in his mothers chamber. This poore mother being in bed, ſighed much for grief at her ſons ill huſbandry & cariage. He then watcheth & attendeth his time vntil ſhee was a ſteep: & in the end perceiuing her faſt a ſleep, takes a cord, which hee had prepared of purpoſe, and hauing made a nooſe, hee comming neere his mothers bed, had at firſt ſome remorſe of conſcience, as he was about to put the cord about her neck: but remembring how the day before ſhe had ſhamed him openly, and that before young wenches, whom he eſteemed more then his mother, this accurſed ſonne, poſſeſſed with the Deuil puts the cord about her necke and ſtrangleth her. And when he ſaw that ſhe had no longer any breath left in her, he hoyſeth her neck vp by the cord, making it faſt to the vpper part of the bedſteed and ſo left her hanging. Then hee takes her keyes, which were vnder the boiſter of her bed, & opens all her cheſts, finding there about two hundred crownes, with rings, borders and other iewels: truſſeth vp altogether, and aſſoone as the Cocke had crowed, he commaunded to haue a horſe ſadled, ryſeth, putteth on his clothes, his boots and ſpurres, and hauing ſhut faſt the chamber doore, where his mother was, goes to horſebacke, and told the man ſeruant that he had appointed with his mother to go to Chambery.

This new Oreſtes, or killer of his mother, being on his way, euery ſtep that he ſet forward, ſeemeth to behold burning firebrands before him: feare followed him at the heeles, and a guilty conſcience of that he had done affrighted him: the leaſt noyſe that he heard, was euer and anon as an alarum vnto him, ſo as he knew not which wayes to turne him.

In the meane time, when the morning was well vp, his mothers maydes, wondring that their miſtreſſe roſe not, knocked at her chamber doore, calling her, but in vaine, for no body anſwered. At length they call in the neighbours, and brea • e open the doore, and finde the woman there hanging. they fetch the Caſtle keeper of the place, and ſtraight way it is ſuſpected to bee her ſonnes doing. Then he was ſent after in haſt, and beeing knowne all the way he went, was taken at Marches, and ſo carried ſafe to Chambery, where hee freely confeſſed this wicked and horrible fact, and was there condemned by the Senate, to bee pin • hed his fleſh off vnder the paps in three places of the towne with pincers red hot, and afterward to be burned to death in the market called Vernay. And ſo was he executed on Satterday the nineteenth of Auguſt 1606. At his execution he willed all youth to take example by him, and to be obedient to their fathers and mothers, and to beware of haun • ing lewd company. When the fire was burning about him, he cryed vnto God for mercy vntill the laſt gaſpe.

This may ſerue an example both for parents, to be carefull how they bring vp their children in the feare of God. and in good nurture betimes, while they are vnder their gouernement: and for youth, to take heed that they eſchew riotous and lewd company, leaſt thereby the Deuill procure them to the like deſperate and damnable attempts. And ſo God guide vs in the right way.

FINIS.