It was February 21, 1794. Father Noël Pinot climbed the scaffold with a firm step, eager to meet God. In an instant, the blade of the guillotine carried out its task, interrupting his earthly life and giving him a birth in Heaven.
Editorial (21/02/2024 08:14, Gaudium Press) It was 1791. On a cold Sunday in January, the inhabitants of Le Louroux-Béconnais, a town near Angers, crowded into the church. They felt anxious because the mayor, Jean Boré, had summoned them to attend the oath that the parish priest, Noël Pinot, had been ordered to take before the municipal council.
On July 12 of the previous year, the Constituent Assembly had approved the Civil Constitution of the Clergy, which aimed to restructure France’s ecclesiastical circumscriptions and turn bishops and priests into civil servants. To ensure its application, all clerics had to swear allegiance to it, at the risk of suffering severe repression from the revolutionary authorities.
Among the population of Anjou, which was markedly religious and greatly influenced by the recent apostolate of St. Louis de Montfort, discontent and non-conformity with such an unjust imposition were evident.
But on that winter morning, the parish priest of Louroux didn’t seem to be in any hurry to pronounce his oath. He spent so long in the sacristy, removing his vestments and saying his prayers after Communion, that the prefect went to fetch him, demanding that he immediately submit to his orders, or else he would be dismissed from his post. The only answer he got was a refusal as firm as it was calm, based on an irrefutable argument: neither the law nor the prefect could take away the powers he had received from God.
The parish priest gave up his mission
The people were overjoyed by this attitude. In fact, no one had doubted the integrity of Father Pinot, whom everyone knew very well and to whom they had a deep affection. Since his arrival in that parish, the largest in the entire diocese, he had given himself to his mission with the same ardor with which he had looked after the chaplaincy of the Hospital des Incurables in Angers for seven years.
Undeterred, he traveled the distances that separated him from the most remote villages, lavishing attention on them and sparing no effort. According to the testimony of his contemporaries, the virtue in which he excelled most was undoubtedly charity.
As an exemplary parish priest, he was extremely concerned with distributing the sacraments, converting sinners, rescuing the lost and giving everyone a solid Christian education.
In the pulpit, he was a confident theologian; in the confessional, a peerless director of consciences; in catechesis, a gentle and attractive teacher.
Firm conviction
After the stormy episode with the mayor, Father Pinot decided to break his silence and state his position in public. His clear, resolute and eloquent voice rang out in the sacred precincts, stating that it was his duty to reject the Civil Constitution of the Clergy, which was contrary to the principles of the Church and whose oath would make him unworthy of his ministry.
He was well aware of the tribulations that awaited him, but the fear of losing his office, his freedom or even his life would never make him capitulate.
With his hands tied, like an evildoer
A few days later, a hundred men from the National Guard marched silently through the small town at night and surrounded the parish house with a warrant for the arrest of Citizen Pinot.
He himself, interrupting the prayers he used to prolong into the early hours of the morning, came to open the door. He received them courteously, allowed himself to be handcuffed without resistance and was taken to Angers.
Forced to parade through the streets of Angers with his hands tied like an evildoer, Father Pinot was locked up in prison. A few days later, he received the sentence for his “crimes”: he was to remain for two years eight leagues away from his parish.
“Irresistible and incorrigible convert”
He then decided to exercise his ministry in other towns in Anjou. Angers, Corzé, Beaupréau and the entire Mauges region benefited from his apostolate for many months, the fruits of which soon exasperated his adversaries.
As he passed through, Christian life increased, fervor grew and – what seemed worse to them – many sworn priests recanted and returned to communion with the Church.
As the fame of this “irresistible and incorrigible convert, who everywhere resurrected Jesus Christ in souls” grew more and more, the authorities decided to hunt him down and throw him in a dungeon, in the hope of making him shut up for good.
But, by God’s special protection, he always managed to escape, traveling from village to village and from house to house without ceasing his missionary activity.
His time had not yet come
In the middle of 1793, an unexpected event facilitated Father Pinot’s work. The victories of the Vendée army at Thouars, Saumur and Angers cleared the way to Louroux for our faithful priest.
His arrival in the old parish was a real triumph: those simple people, but with a strong faith, welcomed him, eager for his teachings and nostalgic for his religious ceremonies.
However, that peace was short-lived: the defeat of the Vandean army at Nantes on June 29th led to a resurgence of the Terror. The virtuous priest once again found himself in mortal danger; however, determined not to leave his flock, he chose to remain clandestinely in the parish territory.
During the day, he hid in isolated farms and mills, dividing his time between prayer, reading and sleep. And when the first shadows of night enveloped the woods and fields, he would come out of seclusion and carry out his ministry: he heard Confessions, assisted the sick, baptized children and performed weddings. At midnight, he would celebrate the Eucharist in a stable, a barn or even out in the open, to an audience that was always large.
His nocturnal movements, although discreet, aroused the suspicion of the municipality’s scouts. He was often on the verge of being caught, and on one occasion he had to hide in a pile of clothes; on another, he lay down under the hay of a manger; shortly afterwards, he escaped from the refuge in which he was minutes before a contingent of the National Guard burst in?
Divine Providence was watching over this beloved son, because his time had not yet come; but he, convinced that sooner or later he would fall into the hands of his persecutors, rejoiced in the expectation of martyrdom.
Betrayed and humiliated like Christ
On the night of February 9, 1794, as he was preparing to celebrate Mass in a house in the village of La Milanderie, a heavy knock was heard on the door. He hid in a wooden chest, with all the liturgical ornaments and the chalice itself, while the owner of the house went to open it.
Fifty men burst into the humble dwelling, uttering threats and searching everything thoroughly. In the end, they found him and made him leave, amid insults and mockery.
In fact, at the root of this arrest was a whistleblower who had once been helped by the good parish priest’s alms: having spotted his benefactor in the yard of the house, he had rushed to denounce him to the authorities, lured like Judas by the promised remuneration.
Father Pinot was immediately taken to Louroux, where an ignominious scene took place, reflecting the Passion of Christ: judges and guards spat in his face, slapped him and beat him.
One of them, who had also been the object of the charitable parish priest’s favors, heard these words from the innocent victim, like a paternal invitation and a terrible reproach: “Wretch, I have done you nothing but good!”
After a brief interrogation, the prisoner was transferred to Angers, where, awaiting trial, he spent ten days in a dark and inhospitable prison, fed only on bread and water.
Before the court, he answered questions confidently and calmly. He affirmed that he had not sworn to the Constitution because his conscience prevented it, and that he had not gone into exile, as required by law, because he had to look after the parish entrusted to him by Jesus Christ, through his Church.
The joy of the elect shone on his brow
As a result, citizen Noël Pinot was sentenced to the guillotine. He heard the sentence with peace and welcomed with joy the executioners’ decision to execute him in his priestly vestments. Clad in his amice, alb, stole and chasuble, he crossed the city to the place where the sinister scaffold stood, which would soon become for him the portico of eternal bliss.
Next to the guillotine, before stepping on the first rung of the ladder, he raised his eyes and, filled with supernatural enthusiasm, exclaimed: “Introibo ad altare Dei! – And I will approach the altar of God” (Ps 42:4).
These were the words that began the Mass in the ancient liturgy, and Father Pinot had said them countless times before climbing the steps of the altar. But now he was climbing the scaffold to immolate himself, the ultimate holocaust of his life! The servant’s blood would be mixed with the Lord’s, like the drops of water that, at the Offertory, the celebrant mixes with the wine to become, with it, a single drink of salvation.
He climbed with a firm step, eager to meet God. In an instant, the blade of the guillotine carried out its task, interrupting his earthly life and giving him birth in Heaven. It was February 21, 1794.
Noël Pinot had just surrendered his spirit to the Creator. A priestly soul, convinced of the dignity of his mission; a soul fully aware of being a mere instrument in God’s hands, humbly carrying out his ministry; a soul who forgot himself in order only to make his sacred character shine; a soul of fire, always drawing others towards the good; a soul who knew how to put the rights of the Church before his personal interests, even at the cost of his own life!
With his death, he bequeathed to posterity an insignificant memorial of heroism and holiness, “a noble example of generous zeal, according to which one must give one’s life for the holy and venerable Laws” (II Mac 6:27).
Text taken, with adaptations, from the magazine Heralds of the Gospel, no. 146, February 2014.
Compiled by Carlos Ruiz