CHARLES DESIRES TO SEDUCE THE GENEVANS. THE MYSTERIES OF THE CANONS AND
OF THE HUGUENOTS.
(AUGUST 1523.)
The duke, seeing that the Genevese commune was seriously weakened,
had formed new plans for definitively seizing the sovereignty, and of
expelling both liberty and the tendencies towards the Reformation,
with which, according to Charles III. and Charles V., this restless
city was infected. Magnificence, fêtes, grandeur, flattery, seduction,
and perfidy were all to be brought into play, and for that end Charles
possessed new resources. He had just married Beatrice of Portugal,
whose sister was about to be united to the Emperor Charles V. Beatrice,
a woman of great beauty, proud, ambitious, and domineering, required
everything to bend before her; Charles, a man of no will, found one in
this princess; and the conspiracy of Savoy against Genevan independence
entered into a new phase, which threatened to be marked by great
reverses. After a few months of wedlock, the duke expressed a desire to
present the beautiful duchess to his good friends of Geneva, and made
preparations for displaying all the pomps and seductions of a court in
order to win them over. And more than this: the duchess expected to be
brought to bed in December: it was now August (1523); if she had a boy
in Geneva, would not these worthy burgesses be happy, nay proud, to
have for their prince a son of Savoy born within their walls? And would
not the child’s uncle, the mighty emperor, have a word to say then in
his favour in that ancient imperial city which still bore the eagle
on its shield? Every means was set to work to carry out this court
manœuvre.
The duke had calculated rightly when reckoning on republican vanity.
Every one was busied in preparing to receive the prince, with his wife
and courtiers, for the Genevese desired that the pomps of this fête
should infinitely surpass those of the bishop’s reception. There were
(so to say) two men in these citizens: one, full of lofty aspirations,
longed for truth and liberty; but the other, full of vanity and fond of
pleasure, allowed himself to be seduced by luxury and the diversions of
a court. The duke and the bishop would never have succeeded in ruining
Geneva; but if Geneva united with them, her ruin seemed inevitable.
All heads were turned. ‘I shall be dressed more expensively than you
on the day of the duchess’s entrance,’ said Jean de Malbuisson to
Jean Philippe, afterwards first syndic. Upon which, Philippe, one
of the proudest huguenots, ordered a magnificent dress of satin,
taffeta, velvet, and silver, which cost him forty-eight crowns of the
sun. Malbuisson was filled with jealousy and anger, and the syndics
were compelled to interfere to appease this strife of vanity.[312]
These vain republicans, charmed at the honour to be done them by the
daughter of the king of Portugal, wished to strew her path with roses.
Portugal, governed by the famous dynasty of Aviz, renowned by the
expeditions of Diaz, Vasco de Gama, and Cabral, and by the conquests of
Albuquerque, was then overflowing with riches, was a naval power of the
first order, and was at the height of its greatness. It was no small
thing in the eyes of the burgesses of the city of the Leman that the
glory, which filled the most distant seas with its splendour, should
shed a few sparks of its brilliancy on the shores of an unknown lake.
The duke had no doubt that these citizens, so fond of pleasure, would
quietly submit to the claims which beauty laid upon them, and that
Geneva would be his.
At last the 4th of August arrived, and all the city hastened to the
banks of the Arve to meet the young and charming duchess; the women had
the foremost place in this Genevese procession. A battalion of amazons,
composed of three hundred of the youngest and most beautiful persons
in Geneva, appeared first. They wore the colours of the duchess, blue
and white; their skirts, as was the fashion with the warlike damsels
of antiquity, were tucked up to the knee; and each one carried in her
right hand a javelin, and in her left a small shield. At the head as
captain was the wife of the Seignior d’Avully, who, being a Spaniard,
could speak to the duchess in her own language: in the middle was the
standard-bearer, ‘a tall and beautiful woman, waving the colours like a
soldier who had done nothing else all his life.’
The duchess appeared, seated in a triumphal chariot drawn by four
horses, and so covered with cloth of gold and jewels that all eyes
were dazzled. The duke rode by her side on a mule richly caparisoned,
and a multitude of noblemen followed them in magnificent attire,
smiling and talking to one another: the good-humoured simplicity of
these republicans charmed them. They said that if they had failed with
the sword, they would succeed with jewellery, feathers, and display;
and that this rebellious city would be too happy, in exchange for the
amusements they would give, to receive the duke and pay court to the
pope. Everything had been arranged to make the poison enter their
hearts by mild and subtle means. The triumphal car having halted at
Plainpalais, the queen of the amazons approached the duchess and said:
En ce pays soyez la bienvenue!...
with other verses which we spare the reader. When the princess arrived
before the chapel of the Rhone, where stood an image of the Virgin with
the child Jesus in her arms, a sibyl appeared and said:
For thee I have obtained a boon divine:--
The Son of God before thine eyes shall shine....
Look up ... see him to Mary’s bosom pressed,
The Virgin who hath borne him for our rest;
With great devotion Mary’s son adore,
And he shall open wide to thee heaven’s door.
The procession passed successively under six triumphal arches,
dedicated to illustrious princesses, before each of which Beatrice
had to stop and hear a new compliment. But it was labour lost: the
haughty Portuguese woman, far from thanking the ladies, did not even
look at them; and when the men came forward in their turn in those
magnificent dresses which had cost them so much money and contention,
the duchess received the _shopkeepers_ with still greater contempt. A
deep feeling of discontent immediately replaced the general enthusiasm:
‘She takes us for her slaves, in Portugal fashion,’ exclaimed one of
the proudest of the huguenots. ‘Let us show her that we are free men.
Come, ladies, I advise you to return to your spinning; and as for us,
my friends, we will pull down the galleries and destroy the theatres.’
And then he whispered to one of his neighbours: ‘Better employ our
money in fortifying the city, and compelling these Savoyards to keep
outside. You entice them in ... take care they do not burn you in
your own straw.’ The duke’s counsellors began to feel alarmed. The
mine which they fancied had been so skilfully dug, threatened to blow
them all into the air. Yet a few more mistakes of this kind and all
was lost.... Some of the courtiers endeavoured to excuse the haughty
manners of Beatrice by telling the citizens: _Che eran los costumbres
de Portugal._ ‘They were the fashions of Portugal.’ The duke conjured
his wife to make an effort to win back their hearts.[313]
Doubts were beginning at that time to be circulated concerning the
attachment of Geneva to the papacy. Charles and his courtiers had heard
something of this; and the desire to keep the city in the fold of Rome
for ever had a great share, as we have remarked, in their chivalrous
enterprise. The mamelukes and the canons, ashamed of these rumours,
had prepared a mystery-play calculated to make the duke and duchess
believe that the Genevans thought much more of seeking crosses and
other relics than of finding that New Testament so long unknown and
about which they were talking so much in Germany. Accordingly, when
the procession arrived at the Place du Bourg de Four, they saw a large
scaffold, a kind of house, open on the side next the spectators, and
divided into several stories. The triumphal car halted, and the people
of Geneva who were afterwards to show the world another spectacle,
began to perform the ‘Invention of the Cross.’
The first scene represents Jerusalem, where the Emperor Constantine and
Helena, his mother, have arrived to make search for the precious relic.
CONSTANTINE _to the Jews_.
Come tell me, Jews, what did you do
With the cross whereon by you
Christ was hanged so cruelly?
THE JEWS, _trembling_.
Dear emperor, assuredly
We do not know.
CONSTANTINE.
You lie.
You shall suffer for this by-and-by.
(_To his guards._)
Shut them in prison instantly.
The Jews are put into prison; and this is a lesson to show what ought
to be done to those who pay no respect to the wood that Helena had come
to worship.
A JEW _from the window_.
Judas the president am I,
And if you will let me go
I by signs most clear will show
Where my father saw it hid.
CONSTANTINE.
Out then; we the cross will seek,
And they shall linger here the while.
The next scene represents Golgotha. The emperor, Helena, and their
train follow the Jew.
JUDAS.
Mighty emperor, here’s the spot
Where the cross by stealth was put
With other two.
CONSTANTINE.
Good!
Let the earth be dug around,
And the cross be quickly found.
A LABOURER _digs up three crosses_.
This is all.
CONSTANTINE, _puzzled to know which is the true cross_.
To prove the story true
Still remains.... What shall we do?
HELENA.
My dear son, pray hold your tongue.
(_She orders a dead body to be brought._)
To this corpse we will apply
These three crosses carefully,
And, if I be not mistaken,
At the touch it will awaken.
(_The three crosses are applied, and when the third touches the body it is
restored to life._)
HELENA.
O wonderful!
(_Helena takes the true cross in her arms._)
CONSTANTINE _kneels and worships it_.
O cross of Christ, how great thy power!
In this place I thee adore;
May my soul be saved by thee!
HELENA.
The cross hath brought to us God’s grace,
The cross doth every sin efface.
Here’s the proof....
Thus, therefore, the Genevese believed in the miracles worked by the
wood of the cross. How, after such manifest proof, should not the world
see that Geneva was free from heresy?[314]
The procession and the princess resumed their march. They stopped
before the hôtel-de-ville, and there the syndics made Beatrice a
present from the city, which she received _pleasantly_ according to the
lesson the duke had given her. However, she could hold up no longer:
exhausted with fatigue, she begged to be conducted to her lodging. They
proceeded accordingly towards the Dominican convent, where apartments
had been prepared for the duke and duchess. This monastery, situated
without the city, on the banks of the Rhone, was one of the most
corrupt but also one of the richest in the diocese. Here they arrived
at last, Charles as delighted as Beatrice was wearied. ‘The flies are
caught by the honey,’ said the duke; ‘yet a few more fêtes, and these
proud Genevans will become our slaves.’
He lost no time, and, full of confidence in the _prestige_ of Portugal,
the brilliancy of his court, and the graces of his duchess, he began
to give ‘great banquets, balls, and fêtes.’ Beatrice, having learnt
that it was necessary to win hearts in order to win Geneva, showed
herself agreeable to the ladies, and entertained them with ‘exquisite
viands,’ followed by ballets, masquerades, and plays. On his part the
duke organised tournaments with a great concourse of noble cavaliers,
assembled from all the castles of the neighbouring provinces, and in
which the youth of Geneva contended with the lords of the court. ‘We
have never been so well amused since the time of Duke Philibert,’
said the young Genevans. To the allurements of pleasure Savoy added
those of gain. The court, which was ‘large and numerous,’ spent a
great deal of money in the city, and thus induced all those to love
it who had given up their minds to the desire for riches. Finally the
attractions of ambition were added to all the rest. To souls thirsting
for distinction Geneva could offer only a paltry magistracy, whilst,
by yielding themselves to Savoy, they might aspire to the greatest
honours; accordingly the notables and even the syndics laid themselves
at the feet of the duke and duchess. ‘The prince was better obeyed at
Geneva than at Chambéry,’ says Bonivard. Everything led the politicians
to expect complete success. That bold soaring towards independence and
the Gospel, so displeasing to the duke, the king of France, and the
emperor, was about to be checked; and those alarming liberties, which
had slept for ages, but which now aspired after emancipation, would be
kept in restraint and subjection.[315]
The calculations of the princes of Savoy were not, however, so correct
as they imagined. A circumstance almost imperceptible might foil them.
Whilst the cabinet of Turin had plotted the ruin of Geneva, God was
watching over its destinies. Shortly before the entry of the bishop
and the duke, another power had arrived in Geneva; that power was the
Gospel. Towards the end of the preceding year, in October and November
1522, Lefèvre published his French translation of the New Testament.
At the same time the friends of the Word of God, being persecuted
at Paris, had taken refuge in different provinces. A merchant named
Vaugris, and a gentleman named Du Blet, were at Lyons, despatching
thence missionaries and New Testaments into Burgundy and Dauphiny,
to Grenoble and Vienne.[316] In the sixteenth century as in the
second, the Gospel ascended the Rhone. From Lyons and Vienne came
in 1523 to the shores of Lake Leman that Word of God which had once
destroyed the superstitions of paganism, and which was now to destroy
the excrescences of Rome. ‘Some people called evangelicals came from
France,’ says a _Memoir to the Pope on the Rebellion of Geneva_ in
the archives of Turin. The names of the pious men who first brought
the Holy Scriptures to the people of Geneva, have been no better
preserved than the names of the missionaries of the second century: it
is generally in the darkness of night that beacon fires are kindled.
Some Genevans ‘talked with them and bought their books,’ adds the
MS. Thus, while the canons were assisting in the representation of
time-worn fables, and holding up as an example the piety of those who
had sought for the cross in the bowels of the earth, more elevated
souls in Geneva were seeking for the cross in the Scriptures. One
of the first to welcome these biblical colporteurs was Baudichon de
la Maison-Neuve, a man bold and ardent even to imprudence, but true,
upright, and generous. He was enraptured to find in the Gospel the
strength he needed to attack the superstitions of old times, which
filled him with instinctive disgust. Robert Vandel did the same. Syndic
in 1529, and employed in all the important affairs of the time, he
found in these works which had come from Lyons a means of realising
his ideal, which was to make Geneva a republic independent in religion
as well as in politics. These noble-hearted men and many besides them
read the Scriptures with astonishment. They sought, but they could
find no Roman religion there--no images, no mass, no pope; but they
found an authority and power above prelates and councils and pontiffs,
and even princes themselves--a new authority, new doctrine, new life,
new church ... and all these new things were the old things which the
apostles had founded. It was as if the quickening breath of spring had
begun to be felt in the valley after the rigours of a long winter.
They went out into the open air; they basked in the rays of the sun;
they exercised their benumbed limbs. Priests and bigot laymen looked
with astonishment at this new spectacle. What! they had hoped that the
pompous entrance of Charles and Beatrice would secure their triumph,
and now an unknown book, entering mysteriously into the city, without
pomp, without display, without cloth of gold, borne humbly on the back
of some poor pedlar, seemed destined to produce a greater effect than
the presence of the brother-in-law of Charles V. and of the daughter of
the kings of Portugal.... Was the victory to slip from their hands in
the very hour of success? Was Geneva destined to be anything more than
a little city in Savoy and a parish of the pope’s?... Disturbed at this
movement of men’s minds, some of the papal agents hastened to write to
Rome: ‘What a singular thing! a new hope has come to these dejected
rebels.... And to those books which have been brought from France
and which they buy of the evangelicals, the Genevans look for their
enfranchisement.’[317]
In fact, the triumph of the duke, the duchess, and their court, who had
succeeded in leading certain Genevans into dissipation and servility,
exasperated the huguenots: they never met without giving vent, as they
grasped each other’s hands, to some expression of scorn or sorrow.
Among them was Jean Philippe, several times elected captain-general.
He was not one of those whom the Holy Scriptures had converted: he was
a rich and generous citizen, full of courage and a great friend of
liberty; but loving better to pull down than to build up, and carrying
boldness even to rashness. He proposed that they should give a lesson
to the mamelukes and priests, ‘and undertook to bear all the expenses.’
Other huguenots, more moderate, and above all more pious, held it of
importance to make known the impressions they had received from the
Gospel. The Word of God having touched their hearts, they desired to
show that it was a remedy for all the ills of humanity. Seeing that
everybody was eager to entertain the duke and duchess, they resolved
to add their dish also to the banquet, seasoning it however with a
few grains of salt. Instead of the discovery of the cross by Helena,
they will celebrate the discovery of the Bible by the Reformation. The
subject was not ill-chosen, as it brought out strongly the contrast
between the old and the new times. The huguenots therefore informed
the duke that they were desirous of performing a mystery-play in his
honour in the open air on the Sunday after a certain holiday called Les
Bordes. Jean Philippe having generously provided for all the expenses,
the young men learnt their parts, and everything was ready for the
representation.
It was fair-time at Geneva, and consequently a great crowd of Genevans
and strangers soon gathered round the theatre: the Bishop of Maurienne
arrived; lords and ladies of high descent took their seats; but they
waited in vain for the duke, who did not appear. ‘We shall not go,
neither the duchess nor myself,’ he said, ‘because the performers are
huguenots.’ Charles, knowing his men well, feared some snake in the
grass. The huguenot who had composed the piece represented the state
of the world under the image of a _disease_, and the Reformation as
the _remedy_ by which God desired to cure it; the subject and title of
his drama was _Le Monde Malade_, the Sick World, and everything was to
appear--priests, masses, the Bible and its followers. The principal
character, _Le Monde_ (the World), had heard certain monks, terrified
at the books which had lately come from France, announce that the last
days were at hand, and that the World would soon perish. It was to be
burnt by fire and drowned by water.... This was too much for him; he
trembled, his health declined, and he pined away. The people about him
grew uneasy, and one of them exclaimed:
The World grows weaker every day;
What he will come to, who can say?
He had however some friends, and each of them brought him a new remedy;
but all was useless--the World grew worse and worse. He decided then to
resort to the sovereign universal remedy, by which even the dead are
saved, namely, masses. The Romish worship, assailed by the reformers,
was now on its trial in the streets of Geneva.
THE WORLD.
Come, Sir Priest, pull out your wares--
Your masses, let me see them all.
PRIEST, _delighted to see the World apply to him_.
May God give you joy! but how
You like them I should wish to know.
THE WORLD.
I like them just as others do.
PRIEST.
Short?
THE WORLD.
Yes, short.
PRIEST, _showing him some masses_.
Then here’s the thing for you.
THE WORLD, _rejecting them with alarm_.
Than these no sermon can be longer.
PRIEST, _showing others_.
Here are others.
THE WORLD, _refusing them_.
No! no! no!
PRIEST, _finding that the World wants neither long nor short masses_.
What you want you do not know.
Then _Le Conseiller_ (the Counsellor), a wise and enlightened man,
recommends a new remedy, one both harmless and effectual, which is
beginning to make a great noise.
What is it, say?
asks the World; the Counsellor answers:
A thing which no man dares gainsay ...
THE BIBLE.
The World does not know what this new medicine means: another character
strives in vain to inspire him with confidence:
Believe me, Mr. World, there’s not a fool
But knows it.
The World will not have it at any price. It was known already at Geneva
in 1523 that the world was giving a bad reception to the Gospel: ‘They
shall say all manner of evil against you, and shall persecute you.’ As
he could not be cured by the priests, and would not be cured by the
Bible, the World called in the Doctor (_le Médecin_), and carefully
described his disease:
I am so troubled, and teased, and tormented,
With all the rubbish that they have invented ...
That flat here on my bed I lie.
DOCTOR.
What rubbish?
THE WORLD.
That a _deluge_ by-and-by
Will come, and that a _fire_ to boot
Will burn us all both branch and root.
But the Doctor happens to be (as was often the case in the sixteenth
century) one of those who believe the text of the Bible to be
infallible; he begins to paint the liveliest picture of the disorders
of the clergy, in order to induce his patient to take the remedy
prescribed for him:
Why are you troubled, Sir World, at that?
Do not vex yourself any more
At seeing these rogues and thieves by the score
Buying and selling the cure of souls ...
Children still in their nurses’ arms
Made abbots and bishops and priors...
* * * * *
For their pleasure they kill their brothers,
Squander their own goods and seize another’s;
To flattering tongues they lend their ear;
For the merest trifle they kindle the flame
Of war, to the shame of the christian name.[318]
The World, astonished at a description so far from catholic, becomes
suspicious, thinks the language heretical, and exclaims:
... Mere fables these:
From the land of LUTHER they came.
DOCTOR.
Upon Luther’s back men lay the blame,
If you speak of sin....
At Geneva, therefore, as well as in all the catholic world, Luther was
already known as the man who laid bare sins. The Doctor did not allow
himself to be disconcerted by this charge of Lutheranism:
World, would you like to be well once more?
THE WORLD, _with firmness_.
Yes!
DOCTOR.
Then think of abuses what a store
Are daily committed by great and small,
And _according to law_ reform them all.
This was demanding a Reformation. The huguenots (_Eidguenots_)
applauded; the foreign merchants were astonished; the courtiers
of Savoy, and even Maurienne himself, smiled. Still Maison-Neuve,
Vandel, Bernard, and all those who had ‘talked with’ the evangelicals,
and especially the author of the drama, knew the difficulties the
Reformation would have to encounter in Geneva.
The World, irritated against these laymen who turn preachers, exclaims:
This impudent doctor so mild of speech,
I asked him to cure me, not to _preach_.
The fool!
Another personage, alarmed at so unprecedented a thing:
Good heavens! it can’t be true.
THE WORLD.
True enough; but as for his preaching now,
I’d rather be led by a fool, I vow,
Than a preacher.
FRIENDS OF THE WORLD.
That’s quite right;
Live by the rule of your appetite.
THE WORLD.
That will I!...
Whereupon the World puts on a fool’s dress, and the burlesque ends.
It is too true that the world, after the Reformation, put on a fool’s
dress in various places, particularly in France. What was the house
of Valois but a house of fools? And yet a divine wisdom had then
entered the world, and remains in it still, for the healing of nations.
From the beginning of 1523, the great principle of protestantism
which declares Scripture to be the only source and rule of truth,
in opposition to that of Roman Catholicism, which substitutes the
authority of the Church, was recognised in Geneva. The ‘text of the
Bible’ was publicly declared ‘an irreproachable thing’ and the only
remedy for the cure of diseased humanity. And what, at bottom, was this
burlesque of the huguenots but a lay sermon on the text: _The law of
the Lord converteth the soul_? It is good to observe the date, as it is
generally thought that the Reformation did not begin till much later in
the city of Calvin. This ‘mystery’ of a new kind did not remain without
effect; the evangelicals had taken up their position; the ram, armed
with its head of brass, that was to batter and throw down the walls of
Rome--the infallible Bible, had appeared. Jean Philippe felt that the
piece had not cost him too dear.
The stage of the _Monde Malade_ had scarcely been pulled down, when the
citizens had to think of something else besides plays. The Savoyards,
who did not like the dish served up to them, and thought they smelt
the poison of heresy in it, resolved to avenge themselves by making
the weight of their yoke felt. Two words comprehend the whole policy
of these soldiers and courtiers: despotism of the prince, servility of
the people. They undertook to mould the Genevans to their system. With
haughty mien and arrogant tone they were continually picking quarrels
with the citizens; they called everything too dear that was sold them,
they got into a passion and struck the shopkeepers, and the latter,
who had no arms, were obliged at first to put up with these insults.
But erelong every one armed himself, and the tradesmen, raising their
heads, crossed swords with these insolent lords. There was a great
uproar in the city. Irritated at this resistance, the grand-master
of the court hastened to the council: ‘The duke and duchess came
here,’ he said, ‘thinking to be with friends.’ The council ordered
the citizens to be arrested who had struck the gentlemen, and the
Savoyard quarter-master undertook to lock them up, which the Genevan
quarter-master resisted. The duke, in a passion, threatened to bring
in his subjects ‘to pillage the place.’ There was some reason, it must
be confessed, to desire a little tranquillity. ‘The duchess is willing
to do us the honour of being brought to bed in this city,’ said Syndic
Baud to the people; ‘please do not make any disturbance; and as soon
as you hear the bells and trumpets, go in procession with tapers and
torches, and pray to God for her.’
The ‘honour’ which the duchess was about to confer on Geneva did not
affect the Genevans. The most courageous citizens, Aimé Lévrier, John
Lullin, and others, were superior to all such seductions. Faithful
interpreter of the law, calm but intrepid guardian of the customs and
constitutions, Lévrier continually reminded the council that Charles
was not sovereign in Geneva. While avoiding a noisy opposition, he
displayed unshrinking firmness; and accordingly the duke began to
think that he could only become prince of the city by passing over his
body. Lullin was not a jurist like Lévrier, but active, practical, and
energetic; at every opportunity he manifested his love of liberty, and
sometimes did so with rudeness. Although prior of the confraternity of
St. Loup, he was at the same time landlord of the _Bear_ inn, which,
according to the manners of those days, was not incompatible with a
high position in the city. One day when his stables were full of horses
belonging to a poor Swiss carrier, some richly-dressed gentlemen of
Savoy alighted noisily before the inn and prepared to put up their
horses. ‘There is no room, gentlemen!’ said Lullin roughly. ‘They are
the duke’s horses,’ replied the courtiers. ‘No matter,’ returned the
energetic huguenot. ‘First come, first served. I would rather lodge
carriers than princes.’ At that time Charles was raising six thousand
men, to be present in Geneva at his child’s christening, and the
cavaliers probably belonged to this body. But the huguenots thought it
too much to have six thousand godfathers armed from head to foot, and
it was probably this that put Lullin in bad humour. Charles was weak
but violent; he stamped his foot when told of the insult offered to
his servants, cast a furious glance over the city, and exclaimed with
an oath: ‘I will make this city of Geneva smaller than the smallest
village in Savoy.’[319] Many trembled when they heard of the threat,
and the council, to pacify the prince, sent Lullin to prison for three
days.
At length the great event arrived on which the hopes of Savoy reposed.
On the 2nd December one of the duke’s officers informed the syndics
that the duchess had been delivered at noon of a prince. Immediately
the bells were rung, the trumpets sounded: bishop, canons, priests,
monks, confraternities, boys and girls dressed in white and carrying
tapers in their hands, all walked in long procession. Bonfires were
lighted in every open place, and the cannons on the esplanade (La
Treille) which looks towards Savoy announced to that faithful country
that the duke had a son.[320] ‘As he was born in Geneva,’ said the
courtiers to one another, ‘the citizens cannot refuse him for their
prince.’[321] The duchess had the matter very much at heart, and
erelong, richly apparelled and seated in her bed, as was the custom,
she would say in the frivolous conversations she had with the persons
admitted to pay their court to her: ‘This city is a _buena posada_’ (a
very good inn). The delighted duke replied: ‘Geneva shall be yours,’
which she was very pleased to hear.[322]
Everything in Geneva and even in Europe seemed to favour the designs
of Savoy. Charles V. the duke’s brother-in-law, and Francis I. his
nephew, were preparing for the war in Lombardy. The struggle between
the pope and Luther occupied men’s minds. The Swiss were ‘in great
care and discord, city divided against city, and one against another
in the same city.’ Bishop Pierre de la Baume was fickle, worldly,
fond of gambling, of feasting, of waiting upon the ladies, and of
pursuing other pleasures which diverted him from better occupations.
Timid and even fearful, changing like a weathercock with every wind,
he dreaded above all things to lose the benefices he possessed in the
territory of his Highness. All this permitted Charles--at least he
thought so--quietly to invade Geneva and unite it to Savoy without
Europe’s saying a word. To have his hands still freer, he persuaded De
la Baume that his presence in Italy was necessary for the emperor’s
service.[323] That done, and thinking the fruit ripe and ready to fall,
the duke and duchess made preparations for striking the final blow.
They clearly saw the hostile disposition of many of the Genevans;
but that was only an additional reason for increased exertions. If,
now that a prince of Savoy was born in Geneva, the duke failed in
his projects, everything would be lost for many a day. The cue was
therefore given to all the Savoyard nobility. The beauty of their gold
pieces dazzled the shopkeepers; sports, dinners, balls, masquerades,
plays, tournaments, pomp, finery, pleasures, luxuries, and all the
allurements which seduce men (say contemporary writers), captivated the
worldly and particularly the youth. Some few huguenots talked loudly
of independence; some old Genevans still strove to retain their sons;
some venerable mothers, seeing their children setting out for the court
dressed in their gayest clothes, asked them if they did not blush for
the old manners of their fathers,--if they desired to sell their free
souls and become the servants of princes?... But all was useless. ‘It
is like throwing water on a ball,’ said the afflicted parents; ‘not a
drop stays there.’--‘What would you have?’ replied these giddy youths.
‘It is stronger than us. As soon as the charms of the world appear, our
appetites carry us away, like runaway horses.’
The monks did not remain behind in this work of corruption. On the
20th of May the Dominicans celebrated the Feast of St. Ives, and
invited the youth to one of those notorious vigils where all sorts
of abominations were practised. The syndics complained ineffectually
to the vicar-general of the scandalous lives (_sceleratæ vitæ_) of
these friars. ‘Go to the convent and remonstrate with them,’ said this
ecclesiastic. And when the syndics went there, the prior acknowledged
that the monks led a dissolute life, but, he added, ‘it is to no
purpose that I speak to them of correction; they answer that, if I do
not hold my tongue, they will turn me out of the monastery.’[324] By
their vices the clergy were digging a gulf beneath their feet, into
which they would drag everything--doctrine, worship, and Church. All
appeared to combine for the enslavement of Geneva. Neither the emperor,
nor the king, nor the pope, nor the bishop, nor the Swiss, nor even the
Genevese themselves, watched over the independence of the city. The
living waters of the Gospel alone could purify these Augean stables.
‘God only remained,’ said Bonivard; ‘but while Geneva slept, He kept
watch for her.’[325]
Geneva was indeed about to wake up. The enervating dreams of the
‘golden youth’ were beginning to fade away. Not only those to whom the
New Testament had been brought, not only the friends of independence,
but thoughtful men of order and of law were going to oppose the duke. A
new martyr was to fertilise a generous soil with his blood, and prepare
the final victory of right and liberty.