Читать книгу History of the Reformation in Europe in the Time of Calvin (Vol. 1-8) - J. H. Merle D'Aubigné - Страница 21

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The cruel butchery of Navis and Blanchet, and the insolent sealed letter, were acts ruinous to those who had committed them. If the bishop had possessed only the spiritual power, he would not have been dragged into such measures; but by wishing to unite earthly dominion with religious direction, he lost both: a just punishment of those who forget the words of Christ: ‘My kingdom is not of this world.’ The bishop had torn the contract that bound him to the free citizens of the ancient city. The struggle was growing fiercer every day, and would infallibly end in the fall of the Roman episcopate in Geneva. It was not the Reformation that was to overthrow the representative of the pope: it was the breath of liberty and legality that was to uproot that barren tree, and the reformers were to come afterwards to cultivate the soil and scatter abroad the seeds of life. Two parties, both strangers to the Gospel, stood then face to face. On the one side were the bishop, the vicar and procurator-fiscal, the canons, priests, monks, and all the agents of the popedom; on the other were the friends of light, the friends of liberty, the partisans of law, the representatives of the people. The battle was between clerical and secular society. These struggles were not new; but while in the middle ages clerical society had always gained the victory, at Geneva, on the contrary, in the sixteenth century the series of its defeats was to begin. It is easy to explain this phenomenon. Ecclesiastical society had long been the most advanced as well as the strongest; but in the sixteenth century secular society appeared in all the vigour of youth, and was soon to gain the victories of a maturer age. It was all over with the clerical power: the weapons it employed at Geneva (the letter and the walnut-tree) indicated a thorough decline of human dignity. Out of date, fallen into childishness, and decrepid, it could no longer contend against the lay body. If the duel took place on open ground, without secret understandings, without trickery, the dishonoured clerical authority must necessarily fall. The Epicurean hog (if we may be permitted to use an ancient phrase), at once filthy and cruel, who from his episcopal throne trampled brutally under foot the holiest rights, was unconsciously preparing in Geneva the glorious advent of the Reformation.

The meeting of the 5th of December was no sooner dissolved than the citizens dispersed through the town. The insolent request of the princes and the refusal of the people were the subject of every conversation: nothing else was talked of ‘in public or in private, at feast or funeral.’ The letter which demanded on behalf of Geneva an alliance with Friburg was not sealed like the bishop’s; it was openly displayed in the streets, and carried from house to house; a large number of citizens hastened to subscribe their names: there were three hundred signatures. It was necessary to carry this petition to Friburg; Berthelier, who was still under trial, could not leave the city; besides, it would be better to have a new man, more calm perhaps, and more diplomatic. They cast their eyes on the syndic Besançon Hugues, who in character held a certain mean between Berthelier the man of action, and Lévrier the man of law. ‘No one can be more welcome among the confederates than you,’ they said; ‘Conrad Hugues, your father, fought at Morat in the ranks of Zurich.’—‘I will go,’ he replied, ‘but as a mere citizen.’ They wished to give him a colleague of a more genial nature, and chose De la Mare. He had resided for some time on a property his wife possessed in Savoy; but the gentry of the neighbourhood ‘playing him many tricks,’ because he was a Genevan, he had returned to the city burning with hatred against the Savoyard dominion.

The two deputies met with a warm reception and great honour at Friburg. The pensioners of Savoy opposed their demand in vain; the three hundred Genevans who had signed the petition received the freedom of the city, with an offer to make the alliance general if the community desired it. On Tuesday, December 21, the two deputies returned to Geneva, and on the following Thursday the proposal of alliance was brought before the people in general council. It was to be a great day; and accordingly the two parties went to the council determined, each of them, to make a last effort. The partisans of absolutism and those of the civic liberties, the citizens attached to Rome and those who were inclined to throw off their chains, the old times and the new, met face to face. At first there were several eloquent speeches on both sides: ‘We will not permit law and liberty to be driven out of Geneva,’ said the citizens, ‘in order that arbitrary rule may be set up in their place. God himself is the guarantee of our franchises.’ They soon came to warmer language, and at last grew so excited that deliberation was impossible. The deputy from Friburg, who had returned with Hugues and De la Mare, strove in vain to calm their minds; the council was compelled to separate without coming to any decision. Switzerland had offered her alliance, and Geneva had not accepted it.189

The friends of independence were uneasy; most of them were deficient in information and in arguments; they supplied the want by the instinct of liberty, boldness, and enthusiasm; but these are qualities that sometimes fail and fade away. Many of them accordingly feared that the liberties of Geneva would be finally sacrificed to the bishop’s good pleasure. The more enlightened thought, on the contrary, that the rights of the citizens would remain secure; that neither privilege, stratagem, nor violence would overthrow them; but that the struggle might perhaps be long, and if, according to the proverb, Rome was not built in a day, so it could not be thrown down in a day. These notable men, whose motto was ‘Time brings everything,’ called upon the people to be patient. This was not what the ardent Berthelier wanted. He desired to act immediately, and seeing that the best-informed men hesitated, he said: ‘When the wise will not, we make use of fools.’ He had again recourse to the young Genevans, with whom he had long associated, with a view of winning them over to his patriotic plans. He was not alone. Another citizen now comes upon the scene, a member of one of the most influential families in the city, by name Baudichon de la Maison-Neuve, a man of noble and exalted character, bold, welcome everywhere, braving without measure all the traditions of old times, often turbulent, and the person who, more perhaps than any other, served to clear in Geneva the way by which the Reformation was to enter. These two patriots and some of their friends endeavoured to revive in the people the remembrance of their ancient rights. At the banquets where the young men of Geneva assembled, epigrams were launched against the ducal party, civic and Helvetic songs were sung, and among others one composed by Berthelier, the unpoetical but very patriotic burden of which was: Vivent sur tous, Messieurs les alliés!

Every day this chorus was heard with fresh enthusiasm. The wind blew in the direction of independence, and the popular waves continued rising. ‘Most of the city are joining our brotherhood,’ said Bonivard; ‘decidedly the townsfolk are the strongest.’ The Christmas holidays favoured the exultation of the citizens. The most hot-headed of the Genevan youths paraded the streets; at night they kindled bonfires in the squares (which they called ardre des failles), and the boys, making torches of twisted straw, ran up and down the city, shouting: ‘Hurrah for the League! the huguenots for ever!’ Armed men kept watch throughout the city, and as they passed the houses of the mamelukes, they launched their gibes at them. ‘They were very merry,’ said Bonivard, ‘and made more noise than was necessary.’ The two parties became more distinct every day, the huguenots wearing a cross on their doublets and a feather in their caps, like the Swiss; the mamelukes carrying a sprig of holly on their head. ‘Whoever touches me will be pricked,’ said they, insolently pointing to it. Quarrels were frequent. When a band of the friends of Savoy happened to meet a number of the friends of the League, the former would cry out: ‘Huguenots!’ and the latter would reply: ‘We hold that title in honour, for it was taken by the first Swiss when they bound themselves by an oath against the tyranny of their oppressors!... But you mamelukes have always been slaves!’—‘Beware,’ said the vidame, ‘your proceedings are seditious.’—‘The necessity of escaping from slavery makes them lawful,’ replied Berthelier, Maison-Neuve, and their followers. The mountain torrent was rushing impetuously down, and men asked whether the dykes raised against it would be able to restrain its fury.190

The party of Savoy resolved to strike a decisive blow. No one was more threatened than Berthelier. The two princes might perhaps have spared the lives of the other citizens whose names were contained in the letter; but as for Berthelier, they must have his head, and that speedily. This was generally known: people feared to compromise themselves by saluting him, and timid men turned aside when they saw him coming, which made Bonivard, who remained faithful to him, exclaim with uneasiness: ‘Alas! he is abandoned by almost everybody of condition!’ But Berthelier did not abandon himself. He saw the sword hanging over his head; he knew that the blow was coming, and yet he was the most serene and animated of the citizens of Geneva; it was he who ‘by word and by example always comforted the young men.’ He asked simply that right should be done. ‘I am accused of being a marplot because I ask for justice;—a good-for-nothing, because I defend liberty against the enterprises of usurpers;—a conspirator against the bishop’s life, because they conspire against mine.’ His case was adjourned week after week. His friends, touched by the serenity of his generous soul, loudly demanded a general council. The people assembled on the 19th of January: ‘All that I ask,’ said Berthelier, ‘is to be brought to trial; let them punish me if I am guilty; and if I am innocent, let them declare it.’ The general council ordered the syndics to do justice.191

They hesitated no longer: they carefully examined the indictment; they summoned the vidame and the procurator-fiscal three times to make out their charges. The vidame, knowing this to be impossible, got out of the way: he could not be found. Navis appeared alone, but only to declare that he would give no evidence. All the formalities having been observed, the Grand Council, consisting at that time of 117 members, met on the 24th of January, 1519, and delivered a judgment of acquittal. The syndics, bearing their rods of office and followed by all the members of the council, took their station (according to the ancient custom) on the platform in front of the hôtel-de-ville. An immense crowd of citizens gathered round; many were clinging to the walls; all fixed their eyes with enthusiasm on the accused who stood calm and firm before his judges. Then Montyon, the premier syndic, a mameluke yet a faithful observer of the law, said to him: ‘Philibert Berthelier, the accusations brought against you proceeding, not from probable evidence but from violent and extorted confessions, condemned by all law human and divine. We, the syndics and judges in the criminal courts of this city of Geneva, having God and the Holy Scriptures before our eyes,—making the sign of the cross and speaking in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,—declare you, Philibert, by our definitive sentence, to be in no degree attaint or guilty of the crime of conspiring against our prince and yours, and declare the accusations brought against you unreasonable and unjust. Wherefore you ought to be absolved and acquitted of these, and you are hereby absolved and acquitted.’ This judgment, delivered by a magistrate devoted to the duke and the bishop, was a noble homage paid to the justice of the cause defended by Berthelier. A solemn feeling, such as accompanies a great and just deliverance, pervaded the assembly, and the joyful patriots asked if Berthelier’s acquittal was not the pledge of the liberation of Geneva.192

But if the joy among the huguenots was great, the consternation of the mamelukes was greater still. This mystery—for such they called the acquittal of an innocent man—terrified them. They had fancied their affairs in a better position, and all of a sudden they appeared desperate. That noble head, which they desired to bring low, now rose calm and cheerful in the midst of an enthusiastic people. To complete their misfortune, it was one of their own party that had delivered that abominable verdict of acquittal. They sent the news to their friends in Piedmont, adding that their affairs had never been in a worse position. Berthelier’s acquittal created a deep sensation at the court of Turin. It was a triumph of law and liberty that compromised all the plans of Savoy. By seizing Berthelier, they had hoped to extinguish that fire of independence and liberty, which they could discern afar on the Genevan hills; and now the fire which they hoped had been stifled, was shooting out a brighter and a higher flame.... The Archbishop of Turin, who had sworn to destroy all republican independence, represented to his sovereign the true meaning of the sentence that had just been delivered. The feeble duke, who knew not how to carry out his enterprises and feared spending money more than losing his dominions, had remained until this moment in a state of foolish confidence. He now awoke: he saw that the alliance with Switzerland would deprive him of Geneva for ever, and considered Berthelier’s acquittal as an outrage upon his honour. He determined to break the alliance, to quash the judgment, and to employ, if necessary, all the force of Savoy. He began, however, with diplomatic measures.193

On the 30th of January his ambassadors, the president of Landes, the seignior of Balayson, Bernard of St. Germain, and the skilful and energetic Saleneuve, arrived in Geneva, and, having been introduced to the general council, made at first loud protestations of friendship. But soon changing their tone and wishing to terrify by their threats, they said: ‘Nevertheless his Highness learns that some of you are conspiring against him.’ At these words there was a great commotion in the assembly: ‘Who are the conspirators? name them,’ was the cry from every side. The seignior of Landes, who had let the word escape him, corrected himself, and assured them that the duke was delighted to hear that the people had refused to favour those who were opposed to him. But the ambassador changed his tone to no purpose—the Genevan susceptibility was roused: that unlucky word conspire spread through the city. ‘To conspire against the duke he must first be our prince,’ said some. ‘Now, whatever he may say, he is only vidame, that is, a civil officer, and as such subordinate to the supreme council. We will make no reply to the ambassadors of Savoy so long as they do not name the conspirators.’ The Savoyards increased their attentions, and showed the tenderest regard for the purses of the Genevans. ‘We are quite alarmed,’ they said, ‘at the quantity of gold florins you will have to pay Friburg for its alliance.’ They carefully hid themselves under sheep’s clothing; but do what they would, the wolf’s fangs peeped out unexpectedly now and then; and while the chiefs were enshrouding themselves in diplomacy, sharp disputes occurred between the citizens and the ambassadors’ attendants. ‘All the Genevans are traitors!’ exclaimed a servant belonging to the treasury of Chambéry. The varlet was reprimanded, but the ambassadors thought it prudent to leave the city. They were exasperated, and on their return to Turin told the duke: ‘You will gain nothing by reasoning with these citizens. If you say you are their prince, they will maintain that you are their vassal.’—‘Well, then,’ said the duke, ‘let us settle the matter not with the pen but with the sword.’ That was just what the energetic Saleneuve desired.194