Читать книгу History of the Reformation in Europe in the Time of Calvin (Vol. 1-8) - J. H. Merle D'Aubigné - Страница 29

Table of Contents

The prophetess was mistaken: the meal was good. On a sudden the sky hitherto so dark cleared up, and there was a gleam of sunshine. The duke, who was thinking of marriage, returned to Turin; the bishop, who was seriously ill and needed a warmer air, withdrew to his abbey of Pignerol, and the huguenots, freed from their two oppressors, raised their heads. Ramel, Hugues, Taccon, Baudichon de la Maison-Neuve, and two others, waited upon the episcopal vicar, prothonotary of the holy see, and demanded the revocation of the decrees contrary to the liberties of the city, and the liberation of all citizens imprisoned by the bishop. ‘In case of refusal,’ they said, ‘we shall appeal to the metropolitan see of Vienne.’289 The vicar, remembering the excommunication incurred in the affair of Pécolat, was alarmed, and granted all they demanded. This concession raised the courage of the most timid, and the patriots immediately held meetings to provide for the safety of the city. Aimé Lévrier, the judge, was especially prominent. Berthelier had been the man of action, Lévrier was the man of right: he had seen with sorrow force substituted for law. In his opinion, every idea hostile to right ought to be combated; and the government of the bishop was not that of the laws, but of arbitrary power and terrorism. Lévrier had examples in his own family: the prelate had caused his brother-in-law (the procurator Chambet) to be thrown into prison because he was a huguenot, and to be tortured so severely that his limbs remained out of joint. ‘God made man free,’ said Lévrier, ‘ages have made Geneva free; no prince has the right to make us slaves.’ Despairing of ever seeing the bishop reign with justice, he proposed an effectual remedy: ‘Let us petition the pope for the prelate’s destitution.’ The daring motion was agreed to, and Lévrier was commissioned to go to Rome to see to its execution. The princes of Savoy succeeded in stopping him, and parried the blow, in part at least. Leo X., however, acknowledging how shameful the bishop’s conduct had been, ordered the bastard never to return to Geneva, and to select a coadjutor to replace him. This was a cruel disgrace to the prelate.

Nor was this all: the people reasserted their ancient rights. The time had come for electing the syndics for the year; the duke and the bishop, as it will be remembered, had deprived the citizens of the right to elect, and accordingly the Great Council nominated these magistrates; but immediately loud protests were heard. The aged John Favre290 and his two sons, with De la Mare, Malbuisson, Vandel, Richardet, and others, protested vigorously against this illegal act, and declared that the election ought to take place according to the ancient franchises. The people were at that time assembled in general council. The mamelukes, unwilling to restore the liberties which their chiefs had taken away from the citizens, resisted stoutly; and there was an immense uproar in the assembly. The huguenots, ever prompt, immediately organised the bureau, not troubling themselves about the protests of their adversaries, and the popular elections began. At this news the ministers of the bishop and the duke hurried to the council, exclaiming: ‘Stop! it is a great scandal; the Great Council has already named the syndics!’ The huguenots resisted; they declared they would resume the ancient privileges of which a foreign prince had deprived them; and the ministers of the two cousins (Charles and John), finding their only resource was to gain time, demanded and obtained the adjournment of the election until the morrow. The huguenots felt themselves too strong not to wait. The next day, which was Monday, the citizens poured from every quarter towards St. Pierre’s, full of enthusiasm for the constitutions handed down by their ancestors. Violence could not annul right; the election was made by the people in conformity with the liberties of Geneva. But the huguenots, having recovered their liberties, gave a proof of a moderation still more surprising than their energy. They knew that by being patient they would be strong; they thought that the election of huguenot syndics might, under present circumstances, cause the storm to burst, and bring down incalculable disasters upon the city; they therefore returned the same syndics as the Great Council had done. After having conquered absolutism, they conquered themselves. To construct with haste a scaffolding that might afterwards be easily thrown down was not their object; they desired to lay a solid foundation for the temple of liberty.291

They did more: they attempted a reconciliation. Three of them, headed by Robert Vandel (who was syndic in 1529), called upon the mameluke syndic Danel, and said: ‘Let us forget our mutual offences and make peace; let us drop the names mameluke and huguenot, and let there be none but Genevans in Geneva. Bring the matter before the council.’ The huguenots, like true citizens, desired union in their country; not so the mamelukes, who were sold to the foreigner. They referred the proposition to the vicar and episcopal council, and then to the bishop and the duke—a sure means of insuring its failure.292 Moderation, concord, respect for the rights of all, were on the side of liberty. The only thought of the priests and mamelukes was how to separate themselves from the public cause. Of this a striking proof was seen at that time.

Money to pay the expenses of the war (known as the war des Bésolles) had to be raised. The clergy, notwithstanding their wealth, refused to pay their quota, little suspecting that by their avarice they were preparing the way for the Reformation.293 To no purpose did the huguenots, who had shown themselves so magnanimous in the election of the syndics, make an earnest movement to reconcile all parties; the priests, thinking only of their purses, replied by one of those violent measures customary with the papacy. A citation from Rome fell suddenly into the midst of Geneva; the pope summoned the chief magistrates of the republic to appear before him, to render an account of the tax they had dared to levy upon the priests; and on the 30th of April the agents of the court of Rome posted the citation on the gates of the church of St. Pierre. The citizens ran up to read it. What! the priests must always keep themselves apart! Poor men who gain their living painfully by the sweat of their brow, must stint their children’s bread in order to pay this debt; and these debauched monks, these indolent priests, still abundantly enjoy the delights of the flesh, and are not willing to make the smallest sacrifice? The public conscience was stirred, the city thrilled with indignation, ‘everybody was much vexed;’ the next day the anger excited by this new act of meanness, this crying selfishness, burst out, and ‘there was some rioting.’

Had the Reformation anything to do with this opposition to the selfishness of the priests and the despotism of Rome? It is possible, nay, probable; but it is a mistake to mix up the Reformer of Wittemberg with it. ‘Luther,’ says Bonivard, ‘had already given instruction at this time to many in Geneva and elsewhere.’294 The instruction, mentioned by the prior of St. Victor, clearly refers to christian truth in general, and not to the conduct of the Genevese under present circumstances. Had Luther done more? Had he addressed to Geneva any of his evangelical teachings, as Bonivard seems to indicate? Had he begun in this city the work that Calvin completed, as one of Bonivard’s editors thinks?295 This seems to us more than doubtful. The influence exercised by Luther over Geneva is indisputable; but it proceeded solely from his writings; it was the general influence of the evangelical ideas scattered through the world by the great Reformer.

It was the year 1520. Luther was known at Geneva. A few huguenots, indignant at the bull from Rome, asked whether this monk, who was already spoken of throughout christendom, had not shown that the pope had been often mistaken, and was mistaken every day? When the pope had condemned him, had not Luther appealed from the pope? Had he not said that the power of the sovereign pastor ought not to be employed in murdering ‘Christ’s lambs and throwing them into the jaws of the wolf?’ ... When the pope had launched a bull against this bold doctor, as he now launched a citation against Geneva, had not Luther asked how it was that you could not find in all the Bible one word about the papacy, and that while the Scriptures often mention little things, they positively say nothing of what we are assured are the greatest in the church?296 ... ‘We are no longer so frightened at the pope’s bells,’ said the Genevans, ‘and will not let ourselves be caught in his nets.’297 Such was the first echo in Geneva of the cry uttered at Wittemberg. On those hills which rise so gracefully at the extremity of that beautiful lake, there was a soil ready to receive the seed which Luther was scattering in the air. It came borne on the winds from the banks of the Elbe even to the banks of the Rhone. Geneva and Wittemberg began to shake hands.

The Genevan priests, hearing the name of Luther, were alarmed; they fancied they already saw the dreaded face of the arch-heretic in Geneva, and began to make long processions to avert the wrath of heaven. One day, wishing at any cost to save their purses and their faith, they organised a procession on a greater scale than usual. Issuing from the city they proceeded with loud chants towards Our Lady of Grace on the bank of the impetuous torrent of Arve, whose turbid waters descend from the glaciers. All were there—canons, priests, monks, scholars in white surplices, while clerks, proud of their office, bore in front the image of St. Peter, the symbol of the papacy. The spectacle was very displeasing to the townspeople. If, they thought, we can do without the pope, like Luther, may we not also do without these canons, monks, and priests? Has not Luther said that ‘a christian elected by christians to preach the Gospel is more truly a priest than if all the bishops and popes had consecrated him?’298 It is scarcely probable that the Genevans would have had the idea of putting into practice this theory of the Reformer; but some of them desired to get quit of this army of Rome, in the pay of the Duke of Savoy. ‘All the priests have gone out,’ said they; ‘let us profit by the opportunity to shut the gates of the city, and prevent them from returning!’ As the priests placed their interests in opposition to those of the city, it seemed logical to put them quietly out of Geneva. ‘All those black coats,’ says Syndic Roset, ‘were very nearly shut out, through separating themselves from the republic.’299 We may imagine the fright of the priests when they learnt what had been proposed. There was nothing, they thought, of which these huguenots were not capable, and such an off-hand way of getting rid of the clergy at one stroke was very much in keeping with their character. The citizens were not however bold enough for this. ‘The prudent averted that,’ says Bonivard. The startled monks and priests returned hastily and without opposition to their nests, and lived once more at their ease: they escaped with a good fright. This strange proposal, made by a few men of decision, has been considered a prelude to the Reformation in Geneva. That is saying too much; it required the Gospel to be first preached in the city: and that was the real prelude. The hour of the Reformation had not yet come; still the lesson was not lost, and an arrangement was made with the clergy, who paid a portion of the expenses of the war.

Other events gave some hope to the Genevans, whose franchises were so rudely trodden under foot; their greatest friend came out of prison, and their greatest enemy quitted this world. Bonivard was still in confinement, but his relations, who had great influence at court, solicited the duke to restore him to liberty. ‘I dare not,’ said Charles, ‘for fear of offending the pope.’ They then applied to Rome: Leo X. commissioned the Bishop of Belley to investigate the matter, and the friends of the prior entreated this prelate to set the prisoner at large: ‘I dare not,’ he replied, ‘for fear of offending the duke.’ At last the duke consented, and Bonivard recovered his liberty but not his priory. The Abbot of Montheron, to whom Charles had given it, having gone to Rome to arrange his affairs, was invited by certain ecclesiastics who coveted his benefice to a banquet ‘after the Roman manner, and there,’ says Bonivard, ‘they gave him some cardinals’ powder, which purged the soul out of his body.’300 It was by having recourse to this ‘romanesque’ fashion that the guilty soul of Pope Alexander VI. had been hurried from the world. A deed was found by which the repentant Montheron resigned to Bonivard whatever rights he had over the priory;301 but Leo X. gave St. Victor to one of his cousins, who leased the revenue for 640 gold crowns; and Bonivard, the amiable and brilliant gentleman, brought up in abundance, at one time prior and even prince, was left in poverty. It is true that he succeeded for a time in being put in possession of his priory; but the duke soon made him regret in a horrible dungeon the liberty and goods that had been restored to him. Geneva’s day of agony was not yet ended, and at the very time when the citizens hoped to be able to breathe a purer air, oppression once more came and stifled them.

Another event which seemed likely to be favourable to Geneva was approaching. The pope, as we have said, had forced a coadjutor upon the bishop, and the latter had chosen Pierre de la Baume, an ecclesiastic of high family, a scion of the illustrious house of the counts of Montrevel, whom he looked upon as a son. Pierre, who was abbot of Suze and St. Claude, and bishop of Tarsus in partibus, came to Geneva about the time of Bonivard’s liberation in 1521 to take possession of his charge. On the 25th of January a Te Deum was sung for that purpose at St. Pierre’s by the Bishop of Maurienne. Everybody knew that the coadjutor would soon be bishop and prince; accordingly all passions were aroused, and after mass, the mamelukes endeavoured to gain over the future bishop to their side. Besançon Hugues, who desired to see Geneva catholic and episcopal, but free, waited upon the prelate; reminded him, to pave the way for a good reception, that one Hugues, his great-uncle, had been cardinal, and perceiving that he had to deal with a frivolous, vain, pleasure-seeking man, and who, as a younger son, was ambitious to rise at least as high as his elder brothers, he strove to make him understand that, far from submitting to the duke, he should remember that the Bishop of Geneva was prince, while the duke was only vassal. Pierre de la Baume, a weak man, ever halting between two opinions, carried away by the honesty and eloquence of the Genevan citizen, gave him his confidence. Besançon Hugues remained ever after his most confidential adviser.302

Erelong another scene was enacted beyond the Alps. The miserable John of Savoy lay at Pignerol on his death-bed. Given during his life to the pleasures of the table and of debauchery, he was now paying the penalty of his misdeeds. He suffered from the gout, he was covered with filthy ulcers, he was little more than skin and bone. He had thought only of enjoying life and oppressing others; he had plotted the ruin of a city of which he should have been the pastor; he now received the wages of his iniquity. Near the bed where this prelate lay languishing stood his coadjutor, who had hastened from Geneva to Pignerol. With eyes fixed upon the dying man, Pierre sought to buoy him up with false hopes; but John was not to be deceived. Soon the dreaded moment approached; an historian, whom Romish writers quote habitually with favour,303 describes all that was horrible in the end of this great sinner. Hirelings surrounded the dying bishop, and turned their eyes from time to time on him and on the objects they might be able to carry off as soon as he was insensible. Pierre de la Baume contemplated the progress of the disease with ill-dissembled satisfaction, eagerly anticipating the moment when, relieved from his hypocritical cares, he would enter into possession of all that he had coveted for so many years. Jean Portier, the dying man’s secretary, the confidant of his successor, watched that criminal impatience, that sordid cupidity, and that perverse meanness, which he already hoped to turn to his advantage. The shadows of the victims of the expiring man were traced on the walls of the room by an avenging hand, and when at last the priests desired to administer extreme unction, he imagined they were covering him with blood. They presented him the crucifix; he seemed to recognise the features of Berthelier, and asked with a wild look: ‘Who has done that?’ Far from embracing with respect and submission this emblem of eternal salvation, he rejected it with horror, heaping foul abuses on it. Blasphemy and insult mingled with the foam that whitened his trembling lips. Thus wrote an author less Romanist, we perceive, than is imagined.304 Repentance succeeded despair in the guilty soul of the prelate before his death. Turning a last look on his adopted son, he said to him: ‘I wished to give the principality of Geneva to Savoy ... and to attain my object, I have put many innocent persons to death.’ The blood that he had shed cried in his ears: Navis, Blanchet, and Berthelier rose up before him. Pursued by remorse, weighed down by the fear of a Judge, he would have desired to save La Baume from the faults he had committed himself. ‘If you obtain this bishopric,’ continued he, ‘I entreat you not to tread in my footsteps. On the contrary, defend the franchises of the city.... In the sufferings I endure, I recognise the vengeance of the Almighty.... I pray to God for pardon from the bottom of my heart.... In purgatory ... God will pardon me!’305 It is gratifying to hear this cry of an awakening conscience at the termination of a criminal life. Unfortunately Pierre de la Baume did not profit by this solemn advice. The bastard died after horrible sufferings, ‘inflicted by the divine judgment,’ says Bonivard, ‘and he went into the presence of the Sovereign to plead with those whose blood he had shed.’—‘At the time of his death, he was so withered,’ adds the prior of St. Victor, ‘that he did not weigh five and twenty pounds.’ The prophecy of Pécolat was fulfilled: Non videbit dies Petri. Instead of twenty-five years the episcopacy of John of Savoy had only lasted nine.

Geneva was about to change masters. The struggle which had characterised the episcopacy of John of Savoy could not fail to be renewed if, instead of a shepherd, the Genevese received a hireling. Who would come off victorious in this new combat? Would the old times be maintained; or, thanks to a prelate who understood the wants of the age and the nature of the Gospel, should we witness the commencement of a new era? There was little hope that it would be so. The episcopal see of Geneva, which gave the rank of temporal prince, was much coveted by nobles, and even, as we have seen, by members of the sovereign families. These worldly bishops thought only of getting rich and of living in pomp and pleasure, careless of the good government of the Church or of feeding their flock. The thrones of such princes could not but totter and fall erelong. Pierre de la Baume, certain good qualities notwithstanding, could not prevent this catastrophe; on the contrary, he accelerated it. He had wit and imagination; but was weak, vain, and inclined to the same habits of servility as his predecessor, ‘incapable,’ says an historian, ‘of comprehending any other happiness than sleeping well, after he had eaten and drunk well.’306

The bastard having breathed his last, Pierre, kneeling by the side of his bed, rose up a bishop. He took immediate steps to secure his new property from pillage, and on the 7th of February, 1522, wrote a letter to ‘his dearly beloved and trusty syndics, councillors, citizens, and community of Geneva,’ which gave no promise that the reign of truth would be witnessed during his episcopacy. He began with the falsehoods usual in such cases, and informed the Genevans that his predecessor had ‘made as holy an end as ever prelate did, calling upon his Creator and the Virgin Mary with his latest breath.’ He reminded them at the same time ‘of the great love and affection which John had felt while alive for them and for all his good subjects.’ ... ‘Witness the chestnut-tree at the bridge of Arve,’ said some.307

A year elapsed before the new bishop came to Geneva. Was it from fear; or did his temporal occupations keep him away? It was probably the latter motive. He had to come to an understanding with the duke and the pope touching his episcopacy, and he visited Rome in order to obtain his briefs. At last, on the 11th of April, 1523, his solemn entry took place.308 A great multitude flocked together from all the surrounding districts. The syndics, the councillors, and the people went as far as the bridge of Arve to meet the bishop, who, accompanied by his gentlemen, priests and friends, and having by his side the Countess of Montrevel his sister-in-law, the Marquis of St. Sorlin his second brother, and two of his nephews, advanced ‘riding on a mule beautifully harnessed and gilt, and wearing a green hat, after the fashion of the bishops of Rome.’ The four syndics carried a handsome canopy over his head, which a pelting rain rendered very necessary. ‘More than a hundred horses crept at a snail’s pace before him.’ Four companies of archers, arquebusiers, bowmen, and spearmen marched by with firm steps. In every street of the city ‘young men well mounted, equipped, and accoutred, rode à l’albanaise.’ Dramas, farces, mysteries, games and pastimes were given in the open air in spite of the rain, and the Genevans were full of hope. It might have been said that this branch, so severely shaken and almost separated from the Roman papacy, was about to be restored. Geneva, by welcoming the bishop so cordially, seemed to be welcoming the pope who sent him. This was however in the year 1523. Luther had burnt the bull from Rome; he had said before the Diet of Worms, I cannot do otherwise. The Reformation was advancing with great strides at Wittemberg, and was spreading over all Germany. And yet it was just at this time that Geneva received a Roman bishop almost with enthusiasm; but if the energetic city should be disappointed in its expectations, we shall see it rise up against all the framework of Rome and overthrow it without leaving a single piece in its place.

For the moment men indulged in the most flattering hopes. La Baume bore a tree (in German baum) on his shield; the Genevese presented him a poem, the first lines of which ran thus:

But for this tree which God has planted,

Geneva would have had no gladness;

No branch and no support had I

To lean upon in time of sadness.

But God be praised for his good work

In planting here this goodly tree,

Beneath whose shade the poor shall dwell

In peace and unity.309

These verses are a proof of the pacific intentions which the patriots then entertained; for they were written by Ami Porral, a most decided huguenot, who afterwards became one of the first supporters of the Reformation. The Roman episcopacy did not correspond to their hopes; Porral and his friends soon discovered that they must plant another tree in the orchard, the tree of the Gospel, in whose branches the birds of the air might come and lodge. A priest representing St. Peter, and dressed as a pope, presented to the bishop the golden key of his cathedral, and the prelate, standing in the church in front of the high altar, swore to observe the franchises of the city.310 But he had scarcely taken this oath before he imprisoned a citizen unlawfully; and when the syndics humbly reminded him of their liberties, he exclaimed petulantly: ‘You always smell of the Swiss.’311 However, he set the prisoner at large.

Between 1519 and 1525 there were few days of energy and enthusiasm in Geneva; her liberty was expiring, tyranny hovered over the city, a funeral pall seemed to hang upon its walls. This was a time of bitter trial and depression in the city. In the midst of citizens who slumbered, of some who paid court to an illegitimate power, and of others who thought of nothing but amusement, there were many who shed tears over the loss of their glorious hopes. We feel ill at ease in Geneva now, and still more ill in the midst of merrymakings than in the midst of trials. Would the duke and the bishop really succeed in stifling the new life which animated this little state? A great event will arise to give strength to liberty. She descended to the tomb with Berthelier, though still young; she will come forth again when, the gates of Switzerland opening wide, Geneva shall grasp the hand of the ancient champions of independence, and receive the words of Him who said: The truth shall make you free.