Читать книгу History of the Reformation in Europe in the Time of Calvin (Vol. 1-8) - J. H. Merle D'Aubigné - Страница 38

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Then a step was taken without which the Reformation would never have been established in Geneva. In the morning of the 20th of February the representatives of Berne, Friburg, and Geneva resolved to conclude solemnly the alliance between the three cities, for which the people had sighed during so many years. They met, they gave their hands, affection and confidence were in every feature. ‘In the name of the most holy and most high Trinity,’ said the three free states, ‘in the name of God the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, we reciprocally promise mutual friendship and intercourse in order that we may be able to preserve the good that God has given us in justice, repose, and true peace.... And if hereafter one or many should wish to molest the syndics, councils, or freemen of the city of Geneva in their persons, honour, goods, or estate, we, the avoyers, councils, and freemen of the cities of Berne and Friburg—by virtue of our oath made and sworn—are bound to give the said city favour, aid, and succour, and to march out our armies ... at their charge, however.’402 The required formalities having been fulfilled: ‘Gentlemen,’ said Jean Philippe, ‘we will depart and carry this good news ourselves to our country.’ The councils of Berne and Friburg ordered that a number of deputies from each canton equal to that of the fugitives should accompany them, with power to seal the alliance at Geneva. All the exiles left on the same day; but how different was the return from that breathless flight which had not long ago brought them to Friburg! ‘They went, not in fear and dread as they had come, but taking the high road through the Pays de Vaud, where all strove to do them honour; for,’ says Bonivard, ‘they still smelt the reek of the roast meat of Morat.’

On the 23rd of February the news of the speedy arrival of the exiles and delegates of the cantons spread through Geneva; citizen told it to citizen, great was the joy, and arrangements were made for their reception. The syndics on horseback, carrying their batons, followed by all who had horses, went out to meet them, and the people collected near the Swiss gate to receive them. A salute of guns announced their approach. They walked three abreast: in the middle was a Genevan fugitive, on his right and left a deputy of Berne and of Friburg: this order, continued through the whole line, announced more clearly than all the rest the close union of the three cities. Geneva, allied to the Swiss, might be able to preserve its independence; Geneva was saved. A conversion had been wrought in its people. Hitherto they had turned to the south; now they turned towards the north: they began to cast off Rome and to catch a glimpse of Wittemberg. There are certain movements in nations that transform their destinies. The citizens could not take their eyes off those unhappy men who had had such difficulty in escaping the archers of Savoy, and who, strange to say, were returning holding Berne and Friburg by the hand. They had gone away, still disposed to appeal to Rome; but having heard much talk in Switzerland of the Reformation, they were to be the first to welcome Farel and the Gospel to Geneva.... Relations and friends pressed in their arms these fugitives, whom they had thought they should never see again. ‘They were sumptuously entertained at the hôtel-de-ville. A morality on the said alliance was performed, and a bonfire was lighted on the Place Molard.’403 The Council of Two Hundred was convened.

This important council assembled, but instead of two hundred citizens, three hundred and twenty met together. This sitting was to be a festival; everybody desired to be present. It was known that Hugues would speak: the respect they felt for the great citizen and his companions in misfortune, the adventures he had to relate, mixed up (it was reported) with strange facts, excited interest and curiosity. Hugues rose to speak: there was deep silence: ‘You know, sirs,’ he began, ‘that five or six months ago, on the morrow of Holy Cross (September 15, 1525), we left here in great haste by different roads; without communicating with one another, not knowing where to go to escape the rage of the most illustrious duke, Monseigneur of Savoy. We were warned by friends that, on the demand of certain persons in this city, the prince was resolved to take us and put us ignominiously to death, because we had resisted innovations opposed to our liberties. Ah! sirs, that was no child’s play, believe me. The archers and agents of my lord of Savoy pursued us as far as St. Claude, from St. Claude to Besançon, and beyond.... We had to travel day and night in the woods, through wind and rain, not knowing where to go in quest of safety.... At last we considered that we had friends at Friburg, and thither we went.’

The citizens, riveting their eyes on Hugues, did not lose a word of his narrative and of the details which he added. They seemed to bear him company through those woods and mountains, among the ravines and snow; they fancied they heard behind them the tramp of the armed men in pursuit of them.... What struck them was not only the epic element in the flight and return of these free men, of which ancient Greece would doubtless have made one of the finest myths in her history; it was in an especial manner the sovereign importance which these acts had for them. During those sacred days, Geneva and her destinies had turned on their axis; her gates were opened on the side of light and liberty; the flight, the residence at Berne and Friburg, and the return of Hugues and his companions, are one of the most important pages in the annals of the city.

Hugues continued: he told them how Friburg and Berne had seen no other means of securing their liberties than by receiving them into their alliance.... ‘Here are the letters duly sealed with their great seals,’ said the noble orator, presenting a parchment. ‘They are written in German; but I will tell you their substance, article by article, without deceiving you in any—on my life.’ He read the act of alliance, and added: ‘Sirs, my comrades and I here present promise you, on our lives and goods, that the said citizenship is such. Consider, sirs, if you will ratify and accept it.’ The assembly testified its approbation with thanks to God, and resolved to convoke a general council for the next day.404

The catholic party and the ducal party were aroused. The Swiss alliance, an immense innovation, threatened all the conquests they had made with so much trouble in Geneva during so many generations. The bishop, full of uneasiness, consulted with the canons and some others on whom he thought he could rely. All told him that if Berne had its way in Geneva, there would be no more bishop, no more prince. To work then! All the powers of feudalism and the papacy conspired against an alliance which first gave Geneva liberty and afterwards the Gospel. At first they wished to prevent the general council from meeting. It was customary to summon it by tolling the great bell; now Canon Lutry had the key of the tower where this bell hung. In the evening the reverend father, followed by some armed men, climbed step by step up the narrow stairs which led to the bell-loft, and placed the men in garrison there. ‘You are here,’ he said, ‘to defend the bell and not to give it up;’ he then went down, double-locked the door, and carried away the key. In the morning the door was found to be locked, and Lutry refused to open it. ‘The canons,’ it was said in the city, ‘are opposed to the assembling of the people.’ The irritated citizens ran together. ‘Whereupon there was a great uproar and alarm in the church of St. Pierre, so that De Lutry was constrained to open the door and give up the bell.’405

It was all over; they resolved still to fight a last battle, even with the certainty of being defeated. The general council met; the bishop went thither in person, attended by his episcopal followers, in the hope that his presence might intimidate the huguenots. ‘I am head, pastor, and prince of the community,’ he said. ‘It concerns my affairs, and I wish to know what will be laid before you.’—‘It is not the custom for my lord to be present,’ said Hugues; ‘the citizens transact none but political matters here406 which concern them wholly. His presence, however, is always pleasing to us, provided nothing be deduced from it prejudicial to our liberties.’ Thereupon Hugues proposed the alliance. Then Stephen de la Mare got up. In 1519 he had shone in the foremost rank of the patriots; but, an ardent Roman Catholic, he had since then placed liberty in the second rank and the Church in the first. It was he who had undertaken to oppose the proposition. ‘It is sufficient for us to live under the protection of God, St. Peter, and the bishop.... I oppose the alliance.’ De la Mare could not proceed, so great was the confusion that broke out in the assembly; the indignation was general, yet order and quiet were restored at last, and the treaty was read. ‘Will you ratify this alliance?’ said first syndic G. Bergeron. ‘Yes, yes!’ they shouted on every side. The syndic continued: ‘Let those who approve of it hold up their hands!’ There was a forest of hands, every man holding up both at once. ‘We desire it, we approve of it,’ they shouted again. ‘Those of the contrary opinion?’ added the syndic. Six hands only were raised in opposition. Pierre de la Baume from his episcopal throne looked down upon this spectacle with anxiety. Even to the last he had reckoned upon success. By selecting De la Mare, the old leader of the patriots, and placing him at the head of the movement against the alliance with the Swiss, he fancied he had hit upon an admirable combination; but his hopes were disappointed. Alarmed and irritated, seeing what this vote would lead to, and determined to keep his principality at any cost, the bishop-prince exclaimed: ‘I do not consent to this alliance; I appeal to our holy father the pope and to his majesty the emperor.’ But to no purpose did the Bishop of Geneva, on the eve of losing his states, appeal to powers the most dreaded—no one paid any attention to his protest. Joy beamed on every face, and the words ‘pope, emperor,’ were drowned by enthusiastic shouts of ‘The Swiss ... the Swiss and liberty!’ Besançon Hugues, who, although on the side of independence, was attached to the bishop, exerted all his influence with him. ‘Very well, then,’ said the versatile prelate, ‘if your franchises permit you to contract an alliance without your prince, do so.’—‘I take note of this declaration,’ said Hugues; and then he added: ‘More than once the citizens have concluded such alliances without their prince—with Venice, Cologne, and other cities.’ The Register mentions that after this the prince went away satisfied. We rather doubt it; but however that may be, the bishop by his presence had helped to sanction the measure which he had so much at heart to prevent.407

What comforted Pierre de la Baume was the sight of Besançon Hugues at the head of the movement. That great citizen assured the bishop that the alliance with Switzerland was not opposed to his authority; and he did so with perfect honesty.408 Hugues was simply a conservative. He desired an alliance with Switzerland in order to preserve Geneva in her present position. He desired to maintain the prelate not only as bishop, but also as prince: all his opposition was aimed at the usurpations of Savoy. But there were minds in Geneva already wishing for more. Certain citizens, in whom the new aspirations of modern times were beginning to show themselves, said that the municipal liberties of the city were continually fettered, and often crushed, by the princely authority of the bishop. Had he not been seen to favour the cruel murders which the Savoyard power had committed in Geneva? ‘The liberties of the people and the temporal lordship of the bishop cannot exist together; one or other of the two powers must succumb,’ they said. The history of succeeding ages has shown but too plainly the reasonableness of these fears. Wherever the bishop has remained king, he has trampled the liberties of the people under foot. There we find no representative government, no liberty of the press, no religious liberty. In the eyes of the bishop-prince these great blessings of modern society are monsters to be promptly stifled. Some Genevans comprehended the danger that threatened them, and, wishing to preserve the liberties they had received from their ancestors, saw no other means than by withdrawing from the ministers of religion a worldly power which Jesus Christ had refused them beforehand. Some—but their number was very small then—went further, and began to ask whether the authority of a bishop in religious matters was not still more contrary to the precepts of the Gospel, which acknowledged no other authority than that of the word of God; and whether liberty could ever exist in the State so long as there was a despot in the Church. Such were the great questions beginning to be discussed in Geneva more than three hundred years ago: the present time seems destined to solve them.

In spite of the loyal assurances of Besançon Hugues, the bishop was disturbed. Sitting with liberty at his side, he felt ill at ease; and the terror spreading through the ranks of the clergy could not fail to reach him. If the Bishop of Geneva should be deprived of his principality, who can tell if men will not one day deprive the pope of his kingship? The alarm of the canons, priests, and friends of the papacy continued to increase. Did they not know that the Reformation was daily gaining ground in many of the confederated states? Friburg, indeed, was still catholic; but Zurich was no longer so, and everything announced that Berne would soon secede. The great light was to come from another country, from a country that spoke the language of Geneva; but Geneva was then receiving from Switzerland the first gleams that precede the day. Some Genevans were already beginning to profess, rather undisguisedly, their new religious tendencies; Robert Vandel, the bishop’s friend, openly defended the Reformation. ‘Sire Robert is not very good for Friburg,’ said some; ‘but he is good for Berne, very good!’ which meant that he preferred Holy Scripture to the pope. The priests said that if Geneva was united to Switzerland, there was an end of the privileges of the clergy; that simple christians would begin to occupy themselves with religion; and that in Geneva, as in Basle, Schaffhausen, and Berne, laymen would talk about the faith of the Church. Now there was nothing of which the clergy were more afraid. The ministers of the Romish religion, instead of examining the Scriptures, of finding in them doctrines capable of satisfying the wants of man, and of propagating them by mild persuasion, were occupied with very different matters, and would not suffer any one but themselves to think even of the Bible and its contents. Never was a calling made a more thorough fiction. It was said of them: They have taken away the key of knowledge; they enter not in themselves, and them that were entering in they hindered.

These ideas became stronger every day, and the attachment of the priests to their old customs was more stubborn than ever. It was difficult to avoid an outbreak; but it should be observed that it was provoked by the canons. These rich and powerful clerics, who were determined to oppose the alliance with all their power, and, if necessary, to defend their clerical privileges with swords and arquebuses, got together a quantity of arms in the house of De Lutry, the most fanatical of their number, in order to make use of them ‘against the city.’ On the night of the 26th of February, these reverend seigniors, as well as the principal mamelukes, crept one after another into this house, and held a consultation. A rumour spread through the city, and the citizens told one another ‘that M. de Lutry and M. de Vausier had brought together a number of people secretly to get up a riot.’ The patriots, prompt and resolute in character, were determined not to give the mamelukes the least chance of recovering their power. ‘The people rose in arms,’ the house was surrounded; it would appear that some of the chiefs of the ducal party came out, and that swords were crossed. ‘A few were wounded,’ says the chronicler. However, ‘proclamation was made to the sound of the trumpet through the city,’ and order was restored.409

The conspiracy of the canons having thus failed, the members of the feudal and papal party thought everything lost. They fancied they saw an irrevocable fatality dragging them violently to their destruction. The principal supporters of the old order of things, engrossed by the care of their compromised security, thought only of escaping, like birds of night, before the first beams of day. They disguised themselves and slipped out unobserved, some by one gate, some by another. It was almost a universal panic. The impetuous Lutry escaped first, with one of his colleagues; the bishop-prince’s turn came next. Bitterly upbraided by the Count of Genevois for not having prevented the alliance, Pierre de la Baume took alarm both at the huguenots and the duke, and escaped to St. Claude. The agents of his Highness of Savoy trembled in their castles; the vidame hastened to depart on the one side, and the gaoler of the Château de l’Ile, who was nick-named the sultan, did the same on the other.

The most terrified were the clerics and the mamelukes who had been present at the meeting at Canon de Lutry’s. They had taken good care not to stop after the alarm that had been given them, and when the order was made by sound of trumpet for every man to retire to his own house, they had hastened to escape in disguise, trembling and hopeless. The next morning the city watch, followed by the sergeants, forcibly entered De Lutry’s house, and seized the arms, which had been carefully hidden; but they found the nest empty, for all the birds had flown. ‘If they had not escaped,’ said Syndic Balard, ‘they would have been in danger of death.’ The canons who had not taken flight sent two of their number to the hôtel-de-ville to say to the syndics: ‘Will you keep us safe and sure in the city? if not, will you give us a safe-conduct, that we may leave it?’ They thought only of following their colleagues.

The flight of the 26th of February was the counterpart of that of the 15th of September. In September the new times had disappeared in Geneva for a few weeks only; in February the old times were departing for ever. The Genevese rejoiced as they saw these leeches disappear, who had bled them so long, even to the very marrow. ‘The priests and the Savoyards,’ they said, ‘are like wolves driven from the woods by hunger: there is nothing left for them to take, and they are compelled to go elsewhere for their prey.’ Nothing could be more favourable to the Swiss alliance and to liberty than this general flight. The partisans of the duke and of the bishop having evacuated the city, the senate and the people remained masters. The grateful citizens ascribed all the glory to God, and exclaimed: ‘The sovereignty is now in the hands of the council, without the interference of either magistrates or people. Everything was done by the grace of God.’410

At the very time when the men of feudalism were quitting Geneva, those of liberty were arriving, and the great transition was effected. On the 11th of March eight Swiss ambassadors entered the city in the midst of a numerous crowd and under a salute of artillery: they were the envoys from the cantons who had come to receive the oaths of Geneva and give theirs in return. The next day these freemen, sons of the conquerors of Charles the Bold, all glowing with desire to protect Geneva from the attacks of Charles the Good, appeared before the general council. At their head was Sebastian de Diesbach, an energetic man, devout catholic, great captain, and skilful diplomatist. ‘Magnificent lords and very dear fellow-freemen,’ he said, ‘Friburg and Berne acquaint you that they are willing to live and die with you.... Will you swear to observe the alliance that has been drawn up?’—‘Yes,’ exclaimed all the Genevans, without one dissentient voice. Then the Swiss ambassadors stood up and raised their hands towards heaven to make the oath. Every one looked with emotion on those eight Helvetians of lofty stature and martial bearing, the representatives of the energetic populations whose military glory at this time surpassed that of all other nations. The noble Sebastian having pronounced the oath of alliance, his companions raised their hands also, and repeated his words aloud. The citizens exclaimed with transport: ‘We desire it, we desire it!’ Then with deep emotion said some: ‘Those men were born in a happy hour, who have brought about so good a business.’ Eight deputies of Geneva, among whom were Francis Favre and G. Hugues, brother of Besançon, proceeded to Berne and Friburg to make the same oath on the part of their fellow-citizens.411

The men of the old times were not discouraged: if they had been beaten at Geneva, might they not conquer at Friburg and Berne? Indefatigable in their exertions, they resolved to set every engine to work in order to succeed. Stephen de la Mare, three other deputies of the duke, Michael Nergaz, and forty-two mamelukes went into Switzerland to break off the alliance. But Friburg and Berne replied: ‘For nothing in the world will we depart from what we have sworn.’ The hand of God was manifest, and accordingly when Hugues heard of this answer, he exclaimed: ‘God himself is conducting our affairs.’

Then was Geneva intoxicated with joy. On the morrow after the taking of the oath in the general council, the delight of the people broke out all over the city. Bonfires were lighted in the public places; there was much dancing, masquerading, and shouting; patriotic and satirical songs reechoed through the streets; there was an outburst of happiness and liberty. ‘When a people have been kept so long in the leash,’ said Bonivard, ‘as soon as they are let loose, they are apt to indulge in dangerous gambols.’412

While the people were rejoicing after their fashion, the wise men of the council resolved to show their gratitude to God in another manner. The councils issued a general pardon. Then an indulgence and concord were proclaimed, and all bound themselves to live in harmony. They went further: they desired to repair the injustice of the old régime. ‘Bonivard,’ said some, ‘has been unjustly deprived of his priory of St. Victor because of his patriotism.’—‘What would you have us do?’ they answered; ‘the pope has given the benefice to another.’—‘I should not make it a serious matter of conscience to disobey the pope,’ said Bonivard slily.—‘And as for us,’ said the syndics, ‘we do not care much about him.’ In later years the magistrates of Geneva gave the most palpable proofs of this declaration; for the moment, they confined themselves to resettling the ex-prior in the house of which the pope had robbed him. Another more important reparation had still to be effected.

In this solemn hour, when the cause of liberty was triumphing, amid the joyful shouts of a whole people, two names were pronounced with sighs and even with tears: ‘Berthelier! Lévrier!’ said the noblest of the citizens. ‘We have reached the goal, but it was they who traced out the road with their blood.’ An enfranchised people ought not to be ungrateful to their liberators. By a singular coincidence the anniversary of Berthelier’s death revived more keenly the memory of that disastrous event. On the 23rd of August a hundred citizens appeared before the council: ‘Seven years ago this very day,’ they said, ‘Philibert Berthelier was beheaded in the cause of the republic; we pray that his memory be honoured, and that, for such end, a solemn procession shall march to the ringing of bells from the church of St. Pierre to that of Our Lady of Grace, where the hero’s head was buried.’ That was not without danger: Our Lady’s was on the Savoy frontier, and his Highness’s soldiers might easily have disturbed the ceremony. The council preferred ordering a solemn service in memory of Berthelier, Lévrier, and others who died for the republic. The Genevans, acknowledging the great blessings with which the hand of God had enriched them, wished to repair all wrongs, honour all self-sacrifice, and walk with a firm step in the paths of justice and of liberty. It was by such sacrifices that they meant to celebrate their deliverance.413

Geneva did not stand alone in feeling these aspirations towards modern times. It was doubtless in the sixteenth century a great example of liberty; but the movement tending towards new things was felt among all those nations whom the Bible compares to a troubled sea: the tide was rising over the whole surface. During the first half of the sixteenth century Europe was awaking; the love of ancient learning enlightened the mind, and the brilliant rays of christian truth, so long intercepted, were beginning to pierce the clouds. A world till then unknown was opening before man’s astonished eyes, and everything seemed to announce a civilisation, independence, and life as yet unknown to the human race. The mind of Europe awoke, and moving forward took its station in the light, insatiable of life, of knowledge, and of liberty.

The great question was to know whether the new world, which seemed to be issuing from the abyss, would repose on a solid foundation. More than once already awakened society had appeared to break its bonds, to throw off its shroud, and uplift the stone from the sepulchre. It had happened thus in the ninth, eleventh, and twelfth centuries, when the most eminent minds began to ask the reason of things;414 but each time humanity had wanted the necessary strength, the new birth was not completed, the tomb closed over it again, and it fell once more into a heavy slumber.

Would it be the same now? Would this awakening of the sixteenth century be also like a watch in the night?

Certain men, elect of God, were to give this new movement the strength it needed. Let us turn towards that country whence Geneva would receive those heroes baptised with the Holy Spirit and with fire.

The scene of our history is about to change. ‘A man of mark’ whom we have already quoted, said, when speaking of Geneva: ‘On this platform appear actors who do not speak so loud as great kings and emperors on the spacious theatre of their states; but what matters how the speaker is dressed, if he says what he ought?’415 We are leaving for a time this modest platform. We shall no longer have to speak of a little nation whose greatest heroes are obscure citizens. We are entering a mighty empire where we shall be in the company of kings and queens, of great personages and famous courtiers. Yet the dissimilarity between the two theatres is not so wide as one might expect. In that vast country of France, where historians usually describe nothing but the great stream formed by the numerous combinations of policy, a few springs are seen welling forth, at first unnoticed, but they swell by degrees, and their waters will one day have more influence on the destiny of the world than the floods of that mighty river. One of these springs appeared at Etaples, close upon the shores of the Channel; another at Gap in Dauphiny; and others in other places. But the most important, that which was to unite them all and spread a new life even to the most distant countries, welled up at Noyon, an ancient and once illustrious town of Picardy. It was France who gave Lefèvre and Farel—France, too, gave Calvin. That French people, who (as some say) cared for nothing but war and diplomacy; that home of a philosophy often sceptical and sometimes incredulous and mocking; that nation which proclaimed and still proclaims itself the eldest daughter of Rome, gave to the world the Reformation of Calvin and of Geneva—the great Reformation, that which is the strength of the most influential nations, and which reaches even to the ends of the world. France has no nobler title of renown: we do not forget it. Perhaps she will not always disdain it, and after having enriched others she will enrich herself. It will be a great epoch for her future development, when her dearest children drink at those living fountains that burst from her bosom in the sixteenth century, or rather at that eternal fountain of the Word of God, whose waters are for the healing of nations.