When the sermon was over, Farel prepared to celebrate the Lord’s Supper

publicly, according to the Gospel form, and, standing with his brethren

Viret and Froment before a table, he gave thanks, took the bread, broke

it, and said: ‘_Take, eat_;’ and then, lifting up the cup, he added:

‘_This is the blood of the New Testament, which is shed for the

remission of sins_.’ The believers were beginning to draw near to

receive the communion of the Lord,[547] when an unexpected circumstance

fixed their attention. A priest of noble stature, wearing his sacerdotal

robes, left the place where he had been sitting among the congregation,

and approached the table. It was Louis Bernard, one of the twelve

_habilités_ of the cathedral, possessor of a wealthy benefice, and

brother of him who had been touched at the time of Farel’s first

preaching. Was he going to say mass? did he want to dispute with Farel?

or had he been converted? All were anxious to see what would happen. The

priest went up to the table, and then, to the general surprise, he took

off his sacerdotal vestments, flung away cope, alb, and stole, and said

aloud: ‘I throw off the old man, and declare myself a prisoner to the

Gospel of the Lord.’[548] Then, turning to the reformers and their

friends, he said: ‘Brethren, I will live and die with you for Jesus

Christ’s sake.’ All imagined they saw a miracle;[549] their hearts were

touched. Farel received Bernard like a brother; he broke bread with him,

gave him the cup, and, eating of the same morsel, the two adversaries

thus signified that they would in future love one another ‘with a

sincere and pure affection.’ The priest was not the only person who

threw off the foul robes of his ancient life, and put on the white robe

of the Lord. Many Genevans from that day began to think and live

differently from their fathers; but Louis Bernard was a striking type of

that transformation, and the crowd, as they quitted the church, could

not keep their eyes off him. They saw him returning full of peace and

joy to his father’s house, wearing a Spanish cape instead of the usual

priest’s hood. All the evangelicals,—‘men, women, and children,—went

with great joy to greet him and make their reverence.’[550]

Another circumstance, quite as extraordinary, still further increased

the beauty of this festival. During the rejoicings of that first

evangelical Pentecost, a knight of Rhodes came to Geneva in search of

liberty of faith. A knight of Rhodes was a strange visitor in that city.

It was known confusedly that those warlike monks, instituted to defend

the pilgrims in the Holy Land, had been expelled from Jerusalem by

Soliman, and had finally settled in Malta. But why should this one come

to Geneva? The ex-knight, whose name was Pierre Gaudet, related how,

being born at St. Cloud, near Paris, he had heard the Gospel, and that,

having chosen for his glory the cross of the Son of God, he held the

world in contempt. The scandal he had thus occasioned had forced him to

flee. Having an uncle living about a league from Geneva—the commander of

Compesières—he had taken refuge with him; but feeling the need of

Christian communion, he had come to his brethren that he might enjoy it.

The huguenots received him like a friend. That city which had seen in

Berthelier and Lévrier the martyrs of liberty, was to have in Gaudet the

first martyr of the Gospel.[551]

[Sidenote: Old And New Manners.]

While the Word of God was forming new manners, the contrast of the old

manners asserted itself more boldly. The people of the lower classes—men

and women, youths and maidens—danced, according to custom, in the public

square on the evening of Whitsunday. The _tabarins_ played their music

in the streets, and merry-andrews made the people laugh. The women of

St. Gervais, disguised and carrying bunches of box, set the example to

those of the other quarters. The young men united with them, and the

joyous troops paraded the streets in long files, singing, capering, and

sometimes attacking the passers-by. George Marchand, a huguenot no

doubt, who was very ready with his hands, being caught hold of by a

woman who wanted to make him dance with her, gave her a slap on the

face. There was a fierce disturbance; and the Council consequently

forbade these dancing promenades, and ordered that every one should be

content ‘to dance before his own house:’ and this was surely enough.

From that time such idle processions were not repeated. While the

catholic common people were indulging in wanton sports, not perceiving

that they were dancing round the open grave of Roman-catholicism, the

evangelicals increased in zeal and faith to extend the teaching of the

Word of God; and a gentler and more Christian life was about to be

naturalized in that small but important city. The Whitsuntide procession

of 1534, with its coarse jests, was, in Geneva, the funeral procession

of popery.[552]

Indeed, the laity were then learning better things than those which the

monks had taught them. It was not the ministers alone who labored;

simple believers practiced the ministry of charity. If there chanced to

be in any house a man ‘very rebellious,’ opposing the doctrine of

Scripture, his friends, neighbors, and relations, who had tasted of its

excellence, would go to him, and without offending him, without

returning him evil for evil, ‘admonish him with great mildness.’ The

evangelicals invited certain of their friends, even strangers and

enemies, to their houses to eat and drink, in order that they might

speak more familiarly with them. All their study was ‘to gain some one

to the Word.’[553]

In the neighboring countries, in Savoy, Gex, Vaud, and the Chablais, not

only did the enemies of Geneva use threats, but made preparations to

attack it. There was much talk in the city of the assaults that were to

be made by the _forains_, the aliens; and accordingly there was always a

number of citizens kept under arms. Farel, Viret, and Froment often

joined these soldiers of the republic during their night-watches, and,

sitting near the gates of the city or on the ramparts, by the glare of

the bivouac fires or the torches, they would converse together about the

truth, questioning and answering one another. ‘Each man familiarly and

freely objected and replied to what the preacher said;’ and sometimes

before they left their posts, the citizens were resolved in heart upon

religious points about which they had hitherto been in doubt. Not

without reason are these ‘conversations of the bivouac’ recorded here.

In later times, one of the evangelists of Geneva, calling to mind the

nocturnal meetings he had held at the military posts, exclaimed: ‘At

these assemblies and watches more people have been won to the Gospel

than by public preaching.’[554]

Footnote 542:

‘Les luthériens crêveraient par le milieu ... la ville

s’abymerait.’—Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, pp. 92, 93.

Footnote 543:

Registre du Conseil du 15 Mai, 1534. Froment, _Gestes de Genève_.

Footnote 544:

Registre du Conseil des 4, 11, 13, 30 Avril; 5, 14, 15, 17, 24, 26

Mai, and 12 Juin. Sœur Jeanne, _Levain du Calvinisme_, p. 89. MS. de

Berne, _Hist. Helv._, v. 12. Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, pp. 119,

120.

Footnote 545:

Farel’s words. See p. 242 of the volume recently published in

commemoration of the tercentenary of his death (_Du vrai usage de la

croix de Jesus-Christ_, Neuchatel, 1865).

Footnote 546:

_Du vrai usage_, &c.

Footnote 547:

‘Gebennis hac Pentacoste cum innumeri cœnam peragerent

dominicam.’—Haller to Bullinger, 4th June, 1534. MS. Arch. Eccl.

Tigur.

Footnote 548:

‘Veterem hominem exuens et se Evangelii captivum exhibens.’—Haller,

ibid.

Footnote 549:

‘Est in miraculum.’—Haller to Bullinger, 4th June, 1534. MS. Eccl.

Tigur.

Footnote 550:

The Spanish cape was a cloak with a hood, in common use at that

time.—La Sœur Jeanne, _Levain du Calvinisme_, p. 89.

Footnote 551:

Registre du Conseil du 29 Juin, 1535. Crespin, _Martyrologue_, p. 114.

Footnote 552:

Registre du Conseil des 31 Mai et 2 Juin, 1534.

Footnote 553:

‘Gaigner quelqu’un à la Parolle.’—Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 127.

Footnote 554:

Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, pp. 126, 127.

CHAPTER XI.

BOLDNESS OF TWO HUGUENOTS IN PRISON AND BEFORE THE COURT OF LYONS.

(MAY TO JUNE 1534.)

[Sidenote: Discussion In The Garden.]

In the midst of these dangers and struggles the Huguenots were not to be

consoled for the imprisonment of Maisonneuve. So long as the intrepid

captain of the Lutherans was threatened with extreme punishment, the

triumph of the evangelicals could not be complete. They feared generally

a fatal termination, for Baudichon and Janin, far from yielding anything

to their adversaries, were boldly spreading the knowledge of the Gospel

in their prison. Janin was as much at his ease as if he had been in the

streets of Geneva: at the jailer’s table, in the halls and galleries and

elsewhere, the armorer argued about the faith. One day, meeting Jacques

Desvaux, a priest of the diocese of Le Mans, Janin took him to task and

tried to convert him to the Gospel. He spoke to him of the apostles and

the saints, and showed him how they had always taught doctrines opposed

to those of Rome. He did more. A garden was attached to the prison, and

the prisoners were allowed to walk in it at certain hours. One day,

shortly before the festival of the Rogations, Janin went into it, taking

a French Testament with him, and began to read it. When he had done he

left the book, not unintentionally, on a low wall, and went away. A

priest named Delay (there was no lack of ecclesiastics in the

archiepiscopal prison) passing near, observed the book, took it up, and,

opening it, read: _The New Testament_. A Testament in French! Delay

began to examine it: a number of prisoners, priests and others, gathered

round him; he turned over the pages in search of the First Epistle of

St. John, ‘because on that day the Church mentioned it,’ but could not

find it.[555]

From the place in the garden to which he had retired, Janin saw Delay

looking for something. Going up to him, the Genevese asked what he

wanted. On being told, he took the book, immediately found the epistle

(those laymen of Geneva knew their Bible better than the priests), and

began to read the first chapter aloud, dwelling upon the words: _The

blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin_. He stopped,

and addressing the prisoners, explained the words, and drew their

attention to two doctrines which, he said, can never be made to

harmonize: that of the Bible, according to which we are cleansed _by the

blood of Christ_; and that of Rome, according to which we are cleansed

by meritorious works. ‘You explain the passage wrongly,’ exclaimed some

of his hearers: ‘we must not follow the letter, but the moral meaning.’

It is an argument we have seen revived in more recent times. ‘You cannot

understand that epistle,’ said a priest, ‘since you are obliged to read

it in French.’—‘Surely I must read it in my own language,’ answered

Janin, ‘for I do not understand Latin. God commanded his apostles to

preach the Gospel to all creatures, and therefore in all

languages.’—‘That is true,’ answered the priests: ‘_prædicate Evangelium

omni creaturæ_; but it is also true that all good Christians draw near

our mother, the Holy Church, to hear Scripture explained by the mouths

of priests and doctors who, in this world, hold the place of the

apostles.’ Janin, who, though honoring the special ministry of the Word,

firmly believed in the universal priesthood taught by St. Peter,[556]

exclaimed boldly: ‘I am just as much a priest as any man, and can give

absolution. God has made us all priests. I can pronounce the sacramental

words, like the other priests.’ And, if we are to believe his accusers,

he added: ‘You may even utter them in the house, in the kitchen.’ He

then began to repeat aloud: _Hoc est corpus meum_.[557] Janin was one of

those daring spirits who imagine that the more they startle their

hearers, the more good they do. Still, the ministers, Farel and Viret,

had no warmer friend.

The prisoners who listened to him, wishing, perhaps, to prolong a

discussion that amused them, started the huguenot again. ‘The Virgin

Mary,’ began one. Janin, interrupting him, said: ‘The Virgin Mary was

the noblest woman that ever existed in the world, inasmuch as she bore

in her bosom Him who has washed us from our sins. But we must not pray

to her or to the saints in paradise.’—‘And prayers for the dead,’

suggested another.—‘There is no need of them,’ said the armorer, ‘for as

soon as we are dead, we are saved or condemned for everlasting, and

there is no purgatory.’[558]

[Sidenote: Rogation Festival.]

On Monday, the 11th of May, the festival of the Rogations afforded the

prisoners a spectacle calculated to break the uniformity of their lives.

They proceeded to the garden, and presently a noisy crowd gave

indications of the grand procession, which was now returning to St.

John’s church, adjoining the archiepiscopal prison, whence it had

started. The priests went first, with crosses and banners, reciting

prayers or singing hymns; after them came the people. De la Maisonneuve

and Janin said that such a ceremony was an abuse, and that it would have

been far better to have given to the poor the money which those fine

banners had cost. The procession having at last reëntered the church of

St. John, the singing, shouting, and noise became insupportable, even in

the garden. Baudichon, according to the evidence of one of his accusers,

withdrew, saying: ‘Those people must be fools and madmen, or do they

imagine that God is deaf?’[559]

The next day the festival continued, and just as the prisoners were

going to dinner, the noise of singing was heard. It was a new

procession. ‘Where do they come from?’ asked Maisonneuve. The jailer’s

wife answered: ‘From the church of St. Cler.’ ‘And what have they been

doing there?’ said Baudichon; ‘have they been looking for St. Cler? They

will not find him or God either, for they are in Paradise; and it is

great nonsense to look for them elsewhere.’[560]

On the 28th of May, the depositions made by the prisoners with reference

to the language used on the Rogation days were read. ‘I would sooner be

torn in pieces,’ said De la Maisonneuve, ‘than have uttered the words

contained in that deposition.’[561] The Court having summoned the priest

Delay before them, the latter declared that he adhered to the main

points, _with the exception_ of the words ascribed to Baudichon. ‘He

only said,’ continued Delay, ‘that it would have been better to give the

poor the money paid for the banners. I did not hear him use the other

words.’[562]

Janin, who had hitherto been the most ardent of the two prisoners, now

began to grow dispirited, as is usual with such temperaments. He looked

upon his condemnation to death as certain; and was quite unmanned by the

thought that he would never see Geneva again. On Whitsunday, a turnkey

having gone to fetch him from his dungeon to hear a mass which the other

prisoners had asked for, Janin, far from refusing, did not betray the

least sign of opposition during the service, but behaved himself

decently, ‘which he had not been accustomed to do before,’ said one who

was present. He quitted the chapel, dejected and silent. Just as he was

about to re-enter his narrow cell, De la Maisonneuve came up: he knew

the state of his friend’s soul and desired to cheer him. Leaning against

the door, he said to Janin, who was already inside: ‘Do not fret

yourself; be firm, and make no answer. I would sooner it cost me five

hundred crowns, than that any harm should come to you or me. My lords of

Berne will not suffer them to do us any mischief.’[563]

[Sidenote: Opinion Of Baudichon.]

Janin’s alarm was not, however, without foundation: false evidence

multiplied. Louis Joffrillet accused De la Maisonneuve of having said to

him at the door of his master’s shop: ‘Pshaw! if you were at Geneva I

would give you a horse-load of relics for a dozen _aiguilettes_.... They

sell relics there at the butchers’ stalls.’[564] On hearing the

unbecoming words ascribed to him, Baudichon exclaimed: ‘That witness is

a little brigand, a young thief; he has told a lie. I demand that he be

detained, and (he added in great anger) I will have him hanged!’

Manicier, Joffrillet’s deposed that he had no recollection of such words

being used by De la Maisonneuve.[565]

All these depositions, De la Maisonneuve’s courage, and the interest

felt for him in high places, created a greater excitement every day in

the second city of France. ‘There was much noise in Lyons about those

two Lutherans of Geneva.’[566] Some eagerly took their part; others, who

detested them, hoped to see them burnt. But as the two protestants had

powerful protectors, the clergy dared not proceed to extremities without

sufficient proof. The canons of St. John sent M. de Simieux, a gentleman

of Dauphiny, who was related to one of them, to Geneva to try and hunt

up some capital charge against Baudichon. De Simieux alighted at the

Hôtel de la Grue, in the Corraterie, and immediately entered into

conversation with the landlord, who promised to introduce him to some

worthy people, from whom he would receive accurate information about

that wretched Baudichon.[567]

Meanwhile, the gentleman amused himself by walking up and down in front

of his lodging. Presently he saw fifteen persons, ‘of the most

respectable of the city,’ approaching, who saluted him and said: ‘We

have heard that you are come from Lyons; is it true that Baudichon is

about to be released?’ De Simieux asked the gentlemen what they thought

of the prisoner. ‘If he is discharged,’ said one of them, ‘we and all

the Catholics in Geneva will be totally ruined and lost. His

accomplices, the Lutherans of the city, have prepared their plan, and

the only thing they are waiting for, before putting it into execution,

is Baudichon’s release.’ ‘Yes, yes,’ said all the fifteen, ‘we are sure

of it.’[568]

De Simieux asked them to specify some overt act. ‘On Corpus Christi

day,’ said one, ‘as the procession was passing Baudichon’s house, his

wife was at the window with her maid, and both were spinning with their

distaffs. When Madame de la Maisonneuve saw the priests marching before

her _all in white_, she exclaimed: “Look what fine _goats_!” ... as if a

flock of those animals had been passing by twos before her.’[569] As

this remark of the wife was not sufficient to burn the husband, De

Simieux asked for something more. ‘It is notorious,’ they told him,

‘that Baudichon is the person most employed in seducing the city of

Geneva to the Lutheran heresies; that it was he who caused the preachers

to come; and that, if he is liberated, everybody will go over to his

faith.’[570]

While this conversation was going on in a narrow street, an official

interview of far greater importance was taking place not far off. Two

ambassadors from the King of France had just arrived at Geneva, and the

syndics who waited upon them declared they thought it very strange that

messieurs of Lyons should presume to give them the law. The ambassadors

promised to speak to the king on the subject.[571]

[Sidenote: Baudichon Locked Up.]

Meantime, matters were looking worse at Lyons. On Thursday, the 18th of

June, Florimond Pécoud, the merchant, seasoned his deposition with some

piquant expressions which he falsely ascribed to Baudichon. ‘Telling him

one day that I had just come from mass,’ said Pécoud, ‘Baudichon made

the remark: “And what did you see there? ... a slice of turnip, ...

nothing more.”’[572] At these words the prisoner rose indignantly, and

said to the judges: ‘I will not make any reply, I have made too many

already,’ and proceeded to leave the hall. ‘We order you to stay,’ said

the judges; but De la Maisonneuve would not stop. ‘Positively,’ said the

judges, looking at each other, ‘he flees our presence.’ To the jailer

who was sent after him to bid him return, he answered haughtily: ‘I am

not disposed at present; let them wait until after dinner.’ Baudichon

reappeared in the afternoon, but his anger had not cooled down. ‘I know

that Pécoud,’ he said; ‘he has cheated the merchants, he has been a

bankrupt, and his wife and he live by the debauchery of others. I

guarantee to prove what I say.’

The next day there was a scene quite as lively. Maisonneuve having

contradicted a witness: ‘I command you to sit in the dock,’ said the

president. ‘I will not sit in the dock,’ answered the citizen of Geneva;

‘I have sat there too long.’ This was too much for the judges. The

procurator-fiscal ordered Baudichon to be taken away and put in solitary

confinement: no one was to speak to him. The prisoner was accordingly

removed and locked up.[573]

The Court immediately increased the number of witnesses for the

prosecution: it is useless to name them. De la Maisonneuve, more

indignant than ever, thought it enough to say: ‘They are false

witnesses, tutored to procure my death.’[574]

Such was indeed the intention of the Court, and, considering the power

of the ecclesiastical tribunals, it seemed impossible they should fail

to attain their end. De la Maisonneuve was not prepared to die. His

knowledge of the Gospel had stripped death of its terrors in his eyes,

but the work of his life was not terminated: the reformation of Geneva

was not accomplished, there was still many a tough contest to be fought

for liberty. A man of resolution was wanted at Geneva—a man to launch

the bark with energy towards the happy shores it was to reach. That man

was De la Maisonneuve.

On the 1st of July, seeing the eagerness of his adversaries, he

petitioned the court to grant him an advocate. The judges would not

consent: the prosecution was difficult enough already. ‘The case does

not require it,’ said the procurator-fiscal, ‘the accused must answer by

his own mouth. The said Baudichon is not an ignorant man; he is prudent

and _astute_ enough in his business.’[575]

De la Maisonneuve could indeed speak freely in the uprightness of his

heart; but a formal defence alarmed him. Anticipating, however, the

unjust refusal of his judges, he had resolved to protest against it.

Producing certain papers, he said, as he pointed to them: ‘This document

was written by my own hand; I desire that it be inserted among the

minutes of the trial, and propose to read it word for word.’ He was

permitted to do so; upon which Baudichon, standing before his judges

with the paper in his hand, reminded them of the fact of his unjust

imprisonment, which had already lasted three months; contended that his

judges had no authority to take cognizance of anything he had done out

of the kingdom, and added: ‘I call upon you to do me speedy justice; if

you refuse, I will prosecute each one of you, and force you to make

compensation and reparation for the injuries I have suffered.... I

appeal to his Majesty.’[576]

[Sidenote: Treatment Of Baudichon.]

The vicars-general could not believe their ears. What impudence! The

accused presumes to attack the members of the Court, and his judges are

to be put on their defence. Are they not the representatives of the

Church? ‘You have no cause to complain of your long detention,’ they

said. ‘It proceeds solely from your having refused to answer us. We

cannot send you before the syndics of Geneva, because, as laymen, they

have no cognizance of such matters. Besides, the king understands that

you demur concerning the offences committed by you in the kingdom of

France.’ Then pressing him with questions, they said: ‘Are you a

Christian? What is your faith? Do you believe in the holy catholic

Church? Do you obey our holy father the pope? We are judges of your

faith, and we require you to answer, under pain of excommunication and

other lawful penalties.’ ‘I will not answer,’ returned Maisonneuve,

quite as determined as they, ‘and I appeal from your order to every

court in the kingdom.’ After this answer, Baudichon, in the eyes of the

Court, was nothing but an obstinate heretic. The inquisitor, Morini,

conjured him to return to the catholic faith. It was useless.[577]

A man who struggled with so much courage against unreasonable judges,

who, in their despotism, claimed the right to forbid him to display

before God the faith, homage, and obedience which his conscience imposed

upon him,—a man who, in the first half of the sixteenth century, bearded

the inquisitors even in sight of the stake, as if his forehead had been

made _of adamant, harder than flint_, deserves some respect from an

easier age, which is no longer called to such combats, and which perhaps

would be unable to sustain them.

Footnote 555:

MS. du Procès inquisitionnel de Lyon. Déposition Desvaux, pp. 99, 100;

Déposition Delay, pp. 112, 113.

Footnote 556:

1 St. Peter ii. 9.

Footnote 557:

MS. du Procès inquisitionnel de Lyon. Déposition Desvaux, pp. 100-103;

Déposition Delay, pp. 114, 115, 124.

Footnote 558:

Ibid. Déposition Desvaux, pp. 104, 105; Déposition Delay, pp. 116,

117.

Footnote 559:

MS. du Procès inquisitionnel. Déposition Desvaux, pp. 106, 107;

Déposition Delay, pp. 118, 119.

Footnote 560:

Ibid. Déposition Galla, pp. 148-151; Déposition de Gynieux dit Nego,

pp. 154-156.

Footnote 561:

Ibid. p. 121.

Footnote 562:

MS. du Procès inquisitionnel, p. 124.

Footnote 563:

MS. du Procès inquisitionnel. Déposition de Billet, pp. 127-129;

Déposition de Mochon, pp. 130, 131.

Footnote 564:

Ibid. Déposition de Joffrillet, pp. 136, 137.

Footnote 565:

‘Recors de tels propos et paroles.’—MS. du Procès inquisitionnel, pp.

138-140; Déposition de Manicier, p. 144.

Footnote 566:

Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 241.

Footnote 567:

Froment, _Gestes de Genève_. The inn of La Grue was, it would seem,

the projecting corner house on the left as you go from the Rhone,

before reaching the museum.

Footnote 568:

MS. du Procès inquisitionnel, pp. 184-196.

Footnote 569:

MS. du Procès inquisitionnel, pp. 197, 198.

Footnote 570:

Ibid. pp. 198-200.

Footnote 571:

Registres du Conseil du 10 Juin, 1534.

Footnote 572:

Maisonneuve compared the host to a slice of turnip—one of the

commonest of things.—MS. du Procès inquisitionnel, p. 162.

Footnote 573:

MS. du Procès inquisitionnel, pp. 189-191.

Footnote 574:

Ibid. pp. 222-238.

Footnote 575:

MS. du Procès inquisitionnel, p. 246.

Footnote 576:

Ibid. pp. 247-250.

Footnote 577:

MS. du Procès inquisitionnel, pp. 251-259.

CHAPTER XII.

SENTENCE OF DEATH.

(JULY 1534.)

The judges and priests, though determined to free the Church from such a

dangerous enemy by pronouncing the capital sentence upon him, resolved

to make a last effort to obtain a condemnatory confession from him. The

procurator-fiscal, looking at Baudichon, said: ‘Considering the

arrogance and temerity of the accused, considering that he is not

sufficiently attainted by the witnesses, we order that he be

_constrained_ to answer _concerning his faith_, and to that end be put

to the torture.’ The noble-minded citizen was to be exposed to the

horrible torments practiced by the inquisitors, but there were no

instructions as to the kind of torture to be employed.[578] De la

Maisonneuve was imprisoned under the roof. Was the order of the Court

carried out? That is more than we can tell; we have discovered nothing

relative to his punishment; we can only find that he was treated in a

harsh and cruel manner. Appearing before the Court on the 13th of July,

he complained strongly of the indignities to which he had been exposed.

‘They have behaved tyrannously to me,’ he said, ‘and shown me much

rudeness and cruelty.’ The judges answered that he had no grounds of

complaint, and that if he wished any favor he had only to answer

concerning his faith. ‘If I were to remain here a prisoner all my life,’

said Baudichon, ‘I would never answer you, for you are not my

judges.’[579]

The Court then resolved to try if they could not obtain from him some

semi-catholic formula which would authorize them to publish his

recantation, or, in default of that, some very heretical declaration

which would justify their burning him. A few words uttered with the lips

were enough for certain judges to give life or death. Evangelical

Christianity prescribes an opposite way; words will not satisfy it:

truth must penetrate into the depths of the heart and abide there by

means of a thorough assimilation which transforms man to the image of

God. But, above all, it protests against constraint; and to those

officials, those inquisitors who imagine they are helping the cause of

truth, it exclaims: ‘Leave to God what belongs to God!’ This was

Maisonneuve’s opinion.

[Sidenote: Charges Against Baudichon.]

The Court and the canons of St. John, having failed to obtain any

confession from Baudichon, resolved to call a witness before them who,

they thought, must crush him. At their request, the Bishop of Geneva,

who was then at Chambéry, desired father Cautelier, superior of the

Franciscan convent, to proceed to Lyons and give evidence against the

prisoner. On the 18th of July the monk appeared before the Court, and

declared that ‘he had preached daily at Geneva all through Lent, doing

the best he could; that he had known Baudichon, notoriously reputed as a

favorer of the Lutheran sect, and one Farellus, a very bad man, who

preached that heresy, and others more execrable still, of which he was

the inventor; that one day, being unable to obtain a license for

Farellus to preach, Baudichon came up with his accomplices; that, in the

presence of a very great multitude of people, he declared he would have

Farellus preach; that thereupon some of his party went and rang the bell

three different times, and that in the same monastery where he,

Cautelier, had preached in the morning, the said Farellus preached

publicly, according to his accursed doctrine, which he continued to do

all through Lent, wearing a secular dress.’ Then, speaking of the visit

made him by Maisonneuve and Farel, the father superior continued: ‘They

asserted that the pope is the beast of the apocalypse, and that the holy

see is not apostolical but diabolical; ... and Baudichon was so

transported with rage and anger, that he would have set the monastery on

fire.’[580]

De la Maisonneuve was then brought in. The two great adversaries met

face to face and kept their eyes fixed on each other. The energetic

huguenot, speaking with calmness, almost with disdain, said: ‘I know

that witness; he is a bad man.... He preached several heresies at

Geneva, and excited much disturbance among the people.’—‘Heresies!’

exclaimed the astonished judges. ‘What heresies?’ An heretical father

superior! that was strange indeed!—‘If I was at Geneva,’ answered the

accused, ‘I would tell you, but here I shall say no more.’[581]

At the same time the crafty monk had with him a weapon which, he

thought, must infallibly procure Baudichon’s death. Pierre de la Baume,

in his quality of bishop and prince, had given him a sealed letter

addressed to the judges, praying them to send the culprit to him, or at

least, to treat him with all the rigor of justice. Coutelier handed it

to the Court. The bishop informed his ‘good brothers and friends’ that

Maisonneuve had already been convicted of Lutheran heresy (this was five

or six years back), that he had done penance, and promised him, his

bishop, that he would not go astray again. ‘Cum nemini gremium ecclesia

claudat,’ continued La Baume, ‘as the Church shuts her bosom against no

one, I was content to pardon him, but threatened him with the stake in

case of relapse.’ It is possible that De la Maisonneuve may formerly

have had some conversation of this sort with the bishop, who took

advantage of it. The law threatened very severe penalties against such

as relapsed; they were not allowed a trial, and were delivered up

immediately to the secular arm to be put to death. ‘I beg you to

transfer him to me’ continued the bishop, ‘to execute justice upon him

to the contentment of _God and the world_, and the maintenance of our

holy faith.’ But a rivalry worthy of Rome existed between the Bishop of

Geneva and the primate of France; each wished to have the honor of

burning the Genevan.[582]

The struggle was natural. The affair had all the more importance in the

eyes of the bishops and priests inasmuch as Maisonneuve was guilty of a

blacker crime in their opinion than that of Luther and of Farel. He was

a _layman_, and yet he presumed to reform the Church. The clergy

believed that the intervention of the laity was the most menacing

circumstance possible. A great transformation was going on: opinion was

changing; as the understanding became enlightened, it condemned abuses

and reformed errors. One of the evils introduced by catholicism,

aggravated still further by the papacy, had been to nullify the faithful

in religious matters. It was endurable that a bishop should go to war;

but for a layman to have anything to say in the Church was inadmissible.

This perversion of the primitive order was pointed out by the reformers:

in their eyes the despotism of priests was still more revolting than the

despotism of kings. A man might, they thought, give up to another man

his house, his fields, his earthly existence; but to give up to him his

soul, his eternal existence, ... impossible! One of the forces of

protestantism was the influence of the laity; one of the weaknesses of

Roman-catholicism was their exclusion from the direction of religious

interests.

The Bishop of Geneva thought that, by putting that powerful layman,

Maisonneuve, to death, he was dealing the Reformation a heavy blow. The

officials of the archbishop-primate of France thought the same. There

was no doubt what would be the fate of the proud Baudichon: it was only

a question whether the flames of his funeral pile should be kindled at

Lyons or Chambéry. The judges consequently asked him if he desired to be

sent to Chambéry to be tried by the Bishop of Geneva; and the prisoner

declared that he preferred remaining in the kingdom of France. De la

Baume gave way, but insisted that the Court should make haste and punish

such a turbulent man. ‘Chastise him,’ said the bishop, ‘according to the

good pleasure of the king, who has shown in his letters that he is quite

inclined that way. Nay, more, you will do a very meritorious work before

God.’ The Court accordingly began their preparations for offering up the

sacrifice.[583]

[Sidenote: Proceedings Of The Magistrates.]

The magistrates of Geneva had not remained inactive. On the 23d of June

the syndics and council of the city wrote three letters: one to the

king’s lieutenant, another to the burgesses of Lyons, and a third to

Diesbach and Schœner, ambassadors of Berne at the Court of Francis I.,

declaring they thought it ‘very strange that Messieurs of Lyons should

wish to give the law to Geneva.’[584] The vicars-general were not much

alarmed: they hoped that the intervention of Francis I. would be limited

to forbidding Baudichon de la Maisonneuve to be tried for acts committed

in his own country. Still they judged it prudent to make haste.

The Court now resorted to its final, solemn, and triple summons.[585]

‘Baudichon de la Maisonneuve,’ said the president, ‘we adjure you to

answer concerning your faith under pain of excommunication.’ The Genevan

was silent. Thrice the same question was put, thrice there was the same

silence. At last, when the president added: ‘Are you a Christian?’ he

replied: ‘You are not my judges, and never will be. If I were before the

syndics of Geneva, I should answer so that every one would be

satisfied.’ He declared, however, that he was ready to enter into

explanations immediately concerning any offence he was accused of

committing in France; thus showing that he desired merely to maintain

the rights of his people and of their magistrates. The Court would not

consent: they no doubt understood that mere table-talk was not

sufficient to cause a man to be burnt. Once more they refused him a

counsel. ‘If you can write,’ they told him, ‘we permit you to set down

with your own hand whatever you please, and we will hear you tomorrow.’

He declared he could not do it without access to the minutes of the

proceedings; to which the Court answered, that the proceedings must be

well known to him.[586]

[Sidenote: The Sentence.]

The inquiry was over; De la Maisonneuve was returned to the care of the

archbishop’s procurator-general, and the next day, the 18th of July, he

was taken before him. That personage rose and said: ‘Baudichon de la

Maisonneuve, being manifestly convicted of the crimes and offences

mentioned in the indictment, is by us pronounced heretical, a great

abettor, defender, and protector of the heretics and heresies which at

present swarm so greatly, and as such he is remitted to the secular

arm.’[587]

They were in haste to finish. There was a rumor that the king would

deliver the prisoner: they must, therefore, hurry on the sentence and

execution. On the 28th of July the Court held its last sitting. Two

inquisitors were on the bench, and the final sentence was pronounced:

‘Baudichon de la Maisonneuve,’ said the Court, ‘you have been fully

convicted of having affirmed at Geneva and elsewhere many heretical

propositions of the Lutheran or Œcolampadian faction;

‘Of having been the chief promoter and defender of that sect;

‘Of having protected the impure Farel and other persons, propagators of

that perverse doctrine;

‘Of having refused to answer in our presence concerning your faith;

‘We therefore declare you to be heretical, and the chief fautor and

defender of heresy and heretics;[588]

‘Consequently we deliver you over as such to the secular arm.’

This was the formula employed by the ecclesiastical tribunals in

pronouncing the capital sentence. De la Maisonneuve appealed to the

king, to the legate, to any proper authority, and was led back to

prison.

The Church, having a horror of blood, delivered Baudichon to the civil

magistrates that they might take the life of that high-minded man: the

captain of the Lutherans was condemned to death.[589] For a long while

people at Geneva, Lyons, and elsewhere, had been every day expecting

that he would be burnt.[590] Now there could no longer be any doubt

about his fate: the sentence was lawfully pronounced. The priests

triumphed, and the evangelicals awaited a great sorrow.

Many burning piles had already been erected in France, Germany, and

elsewhere, and Christians more earnest than Maisonneuve, but not freer

or more courageous, had perished on them for their faith. Were the

persecutors always influenced by cruelty and hatred? Were the

vicars-general, the canons of St. John, the archbishop-primate of

France—all of them thirsting for blood? No doubt there were malignant

fanatics among them, but it would be unjust to form so severe a judgment

of all. Some of them were upright and perhaps benevolent men, to whom

the words uttered upon the cross might be justly applied: _Forgive them,

for they know not what they do_. Atrocious as are the deeds of the

persecutors in the sixteenth century, they easily admit of explanation.

A religion convinced of the truth of its dogmas considers it to be its

right and duty to combat the errors which destroy souls (as it

believes); and, if it is allied with the civil power, makes it a virtue

and a law to borrow the secular sword to purify the Church from

contagion. The fault of such judges—and it is a great fault—is to put

themselves in the place of God, to whom alone belongs the dominion over

conscience; to forget that religion, being in its nature spiritual, has

nothing to do with constraint, and can be propagated and received by

moral convictions only. The sword, when religion determines to grasp it,

easily becomes insensate and ruthless in her hands. _Put up thy sword

into the sheath_, said Jesus to Peter; and those who call themselves

Peter’s successors have been always drawing it. The ground is so

slippery, the gulf so near, that, besides the thousands of cases in

which the Church of Rome during the sixteenth century suffered that

great fall, two or three instances may be quoted in which even

protestants have stumbled.

Three centuries have corrected such lamentable aberrations; we no longer

erect scaffolds, but tribunals, dungeons, and exile still coerce

religious convictions. What must we do to destroy forever such evils in

all their ramifications? The most effectual remedy would seem to be the

separation of the spiritual and temporal power, the destruction of the

links which still unite the ecclesiastical with the civil power. The

doctrine which condemns those fanatical murders has long prevailed all

over evangelical Christendom; at Rome the acts are tempered, but the

principles remain. Modern civilization is waiting for the time when

salutary modifications between the Church and the State will take from

the former, everywhere and forevermore, the possibility of again

grasping the unholy sword which has poured forth such torrents of the

most generous blood.

Footnote 578:

MS. du Procès inquisitionnel, pp. 260-262.

Footnote 579:

MS. du Procès inquisitionnel, pp. 303, 304.

Footnote 580:

MS. du Procès inquisitionnel, pp. 324-327.

Footnote 581:

MS. du Procès inquisitionnel, pp. 335-338.

Footnote 582:

MS. du Procès inquisitionnel, pp. 345-349.

Footnote 583:

MS. du Procès inquisitionnel, p. 338.

Footnote 584:

Registres du Conseil des 10 et 23 Juin et 7 Juillet, 1534.

Footnote 585:

Friday, 17th July, 1534.

Footnote 586:

MS. du Procès inquisitionnel, pp. 339-343.

Footnote 587:

Ibid. pp. 350-354.

Footnote 588:

‘Hæreticæ pravitates et hæreticorum maximum defensorem et

factorem.’—The sentence is in Latin in the MS. du Procès

inquisitionnel, pp. 431-435.

Footnote 589:

See the letter of Francis I. to the Council of Geneva in the archives

of that city.

Footnote 590:

Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 242.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE NIGHT OF JULY THIRTY-FIRST AT GENEVA.

(JULY 1534.)

[Sidenote: Effect Of Baudichon’s Imprisonment.]

By imprisoning Maisonneuve, the priests had desired to check the

progress of the Gospel, but it had the contrary effect. The courage of

the accused and the injustice of the accusers increased the

determination of the Genevans. The work of the Reformation was not a

work without fore-thought; it had been long preparing, and advanced step

by step towards the goal by paths which the hand of God had traced for

it. The rich harvests which were to cover the shores of Lake Leman and

to feed so many hungry souls, were not to spring from the earth in a

day; the soil had long been ploughed and dressed, the seed had been

sown, and therefore the crop was so abundant. The Reformation was the

fruit of a long travail: at one time the secret operations of divine

influence, at another, deeds done by men in the light of day, was

transforming by slow degrees a somewhat restless but still energetic and

generous people.

The festival of Corpus Christi was approaching, and the catholics hoped

by that imposing ceremony to bring back some of those who had left them;

but their expectations were disappointed. The most enlightened and

honorable men of Geneva had no longer any taste for these feasts—not

because of their antiquity, but because they were in their opinion

founded on serious errors, and shocked their enlightened sentiments. The

thought that a wafer, consecrated by a priest, was about to be paraded

through the city to receive divine honors, revolted evangelical

Christians. They determined not to join in the procession, or to shut up

their houses, but to work as on ordinary days. When the priests and

their adherents heard of this, they imagined that the Lutherans intended

attacking them during their progress; but, on being reassured, they took

courage and the devout began to file off. There was not the least act of

violence, but only a silent protest; many houses before which the

procession passed were without hangings, and through the open windows

‘the Lutheran dames were seen in velvet hoods busily spinning with their

distaffs or working with their needles.’ Vainly did the priests sing and

the splendid cortège defile through the streets: the velvet-hooded

ladies remained motionless. Gross insults would not have enraged the

devotees so much. One of them seeing a window open on the ground-floor

and a protestant lady filling her distaff, reached into the room,

snatched away the distaff, struck her violently on the head with it,

threw it into the mud, trampled on it, and disappeared among the crowd.

The startled lady screamed out, and (says Sister Jeanne) nearly died of

fright. Notwithstanding this act of violence, the protestants remained

quiet. Everything helped the cause of Reform: neither the grotesque nor

unseemly dances of the populace, nor the sanctimonious processions of

the clergy, were able to paralyze in Geneva the power of the doctrine

from on high.[591]

An act of a new convert still further increased the murmurs. When Louis

Bernard threw off the surplice he returned to civil life: he soon became

a member of the Two Hundred, and afterwards of the Executive Council.

Being an upright man and desirous of leading a Christian life, he

married a widow of good family, and Viret blessed their union. The

marriage created a great sensation. ‘What!’ exclaimed the catholics,

‘priests and monks with wives!’ ‘Yes!’ rejoined the reformers, ‘you

think it strange they should have lawful wives, but you were not

surprised when they had unlawful wives, the practice was so general.

What foxy consciences are yours! You confess to brushing off the dew

with your tail as you crossed the meadows, but not of having stolen the

poor man’s poultry!’ Bernard justified by his conduct the step that he

had taken. The men who had been dissolute priests became good

fathers,[592] and society was gainer by the exchange.

[Sidenote: Discussion Before The Council.]

But the priests did not think so. Master Jean, the vicar of St. Gervais,

a zealous man and noisy talker, having heard of Bernard’s marriage,

exclaimed from the pulpit: ‘Where is the discipline prescribed by the

church, where are the commandments of the pope? Oh, horror! priests

marry after they have taken the vow of chastity!’ The question of

marriage and celibacy was discussed before the Council; the priest and

Viret, who had given the nuptial benediction, were summoned to the

Hôtel-de-ville. The reformer maintained that marriage is honorable to

all men. St. Paul, when directing that the minister of the Lord should

not have several wives, shows that we must not constrain him to have

none at all, and if the apostle insists that he must be a good father,

it follows evidently that he should be married. ‘Those who issue from

the dens of the solitary and idle life called monkery or celibacy,’ said

one of the reformers, ‘are like savages; while the government of a

household is an apprenticeship for the government of the Church of God.’

The vicar supported his opinion by bad arguments,’ says the ‘Register,’

‘and wandered far from the truth.’ ‘Do not corrupt the Gospel, or else

we shall take proceedings against you,’ said the premier-syndic. The

poor dumbfoundered vicar stammered out a few excuses and retired,

promising to teach in future in conformity with their lordships’

instructions.[593]

But they had no sooner shut his mouth on the question of marriage, than

he opened it on that of baptism. ‘Do these heretics imagine,’ he

exclaimed, ‘that the Holy Ghost can descend into the heart by other

channels than the priests?... They baptize in rooms, in gardens, without

blowing upon the child to drive away the wicked one.... They are _ipso

facto_ excommunicate.’

The independence of Church and State was not understood in the sixteenth

century. Farel complained to the Council, and the priest was about to

yield, when some laymen, irritated by the defeat of Rome, came to his

assistance. ‘Are these heretics already giving us the law in Geneva?’

they said to the council. ‘Only the other day they were satisfied to

speak, and now they want to hinder us from doing so. We demand that it

be as permissible for Master Jean to preach as it is for Master Farel.’

The syndic replied frankly:—‘We have not forbidden the vicar to preach:

on the contrary we order him to preach the Gospel.’[594] It was not then

understood that to command a man to preach what he did not believe was

more tyrannical than to silence him.

Farel, Viret, and the vicar were in attendance; they were led into the

council chamber, and the discussion began immediately. ‘The Holy Ghost,’

said Farel, ‘can act without the aid of priests. It is faith in the

power of Christ’s blood that cleanseth us from our sins, and baptism is

the evidence of that absolution. But where have you read that it must be

celebrated with oil, salt, and other rubbish?[595] ... I know very well

that this strange trumpery is of ancient origin.... The devil very early

began to indulge in heavy jokes, and all these baubles come from him.

Let us put aside these pomps and shows that dazzle the eyes of the

simple, but brutalize their understanding, and let us celebrate the rite

of baptism simply, according to the Gospel form, with fair water, in the

name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.’ The embarrassed vicar quoted

the authority of the pope in his defence, and highly extolled the two

swords that are in his hand. ‘That is an idle allegory,’ said the

reformer, ‘and a sorry jest.... There are two powers indeed: one in the

Church, the other in the State. The only power in the Church is the Word

of Christ, and the only power in the State is the sword.’ That

distinction gave much pleasure, and the secretary entered it on the

minutes. An important transformation was going on: the civil power was

lifting its head and beginning to brave that spiritual power which had

humbled it for so long. The syndic kindly entreated Farel ‘to take it

all in good part;’ but turning with severity towards the vicar, ordered

him again ‘to preach in accordance with the truth.’ ‘Do you forbid me to

preach any more?’ asked the priest, abashed. The syndic answered him a

little harshly: ‘You are forbidden nothing, except lying.’ This marks a

new phase of the Reformation in Geneva. The monks who remained faithful

to St. Francis were alarmed in their convent at Rive, and said: ‘Let us

make haste to carry away our altar-ornaments and jewels.’ ... The

Council opposed this, and ordered those precious objects to be kept in

safe custody.[596]

[Sidenote: Alarming Rumor.]

While the magistracy of Geneva held back from catholicism, the partisans

of the pope in the surrounding country were preparing to support it. An

alarming rumor had been circulating in the city for some days; and the

vicar and the reformer had scarcely withdrawn, when several members of

the Council expressed their fears. ‘The bishop, in concert with the

duke, has formed the design of invading us,’ they said. ‘At a banquet,

at which two hundred persons were present, a formidable conspiracy was

planned against our liberties. Wherever you go, you hear nothing but

threats against the city. Many of our fellow-citizens have gone out to

join the enemy, and are preparing to attack us, with the gentry of the

neighborhood.’ Captain-General Philippe was ordered ‘to be on the

look-out,’ and many placed their hands and their lives at his disposal.

It was true that Pierre de la Baume, having formed a new plot, had come

to an understanding with the Genevese episcopals and the lords of

Friburg; and quitting, not without reluctance, his delightful residence

at Arbois, he had gone to Chambéry to concert measures with the duke. A

Romish camarilla stimulated the two princes. The most fervid of the

mamelukes, and of the lords of Savoy and of Vaud, had arranged a meeting

for a hunting match at the foot of the Voirons, and there arrangements

had been made for ‘hunting down’ the heresy of Geneva. ‘Every one there

is running after this new word,’ they told the duke. ‘There is but one

means of safety left, and that is, to destroy the city and the heretics

by making war upon them, and then restoring the prelate by force.’

Forthwith the plan was arranged ‘of the most dangerous treason that had

yet been aimed at Geneva.’ The duke hoped to become master of the city,

and to re-establish the papal power in it. He had no doubt that

catholicity, far from being jealous of his conquest, would be eager to

applaud it. To insure success, he determined to ask the help of France,

and to that end applied to the Cardinal de Tournon. It was proposed that

Pierre de la Baume should resign his see to one of the duke’s sons, the

young Count of Bresse, and a handsome compensation was offered him.

Maisonneuve, the captain of the Lutherans, a man so generally dreaded,

being then in prison at Lyons, it was desirable to take advantage of his

absence, and the last day of July was fixed for the execution of the

enterprise.[597]

The Councils of Geneva, in great alarm, sent John Lullin and Francis

Favre to Berne to ask the advice and assistance of those powerful

allies. At the same time they ordered the bells of the Convent of St.

Victor and others to be cast into cannon, and directed the captains of

the city to take the necessary measures for putting it into a state of

defence. And, lastly, wishing to deprive the enemies of Geneva of every

pretext, the Council determined to punish those who had ‘ill-advisedly

broken the images of the convent at Rive;’ and declared, that _though

such images ought to be taken down and destroyed, according to God’s

law_, yet ‘those persons’ ought not to have done it without order and

permission, because it was _an act pertaining to the magistracy_. In

consequence of this, six men, of whom little was known, were imprisoned

on the 26th July.[598]

[Sidenote: Enthusiasm In Geneva.]

Great was the enthusiasm in Geneva. The citizens were ready to give up

everything ‘to follow the right path,’ and the Reformation still

advanced, notwithstanding the great danger with which it was threatened.

Some even chose this moment to confess their faith. The last Sunday in

July, a few hours before the day when the enemy intended to enter

Geneva, a member of the Dominican order, that pillar of the papacy,

‘after the bell had bidden the people to the sermon,’ appeared before

the congregation, took off his monastic dress, went into the pulpit, and

then, ‘like a madman,’ prayed God to have pity on him. He bewailed

himself, asked pardon of his listeners for having ‘lived so ill in times

past, and so monstrously deceived everybody.’ ‘I have preached

indulgences,’ he continued, ‘I have praised the mass, I have extolled

the sacraments and ceremonies of the Church. Now I renounce them all as

idle things. I desire to find but one thing—the grace of Christ

crucified for me.’ After which he preached an heretical sermon.[599]

These conversions increased the dangers of Geneva, by exciting the wrath

of the catholics. Four days after the touching confession of the

Dominican the projected plot was to be carried out. The Savoyard troops,

assembling at a little distance from the city, were to approach it under

cover of the darkness. One detachment would arrive by the lake and the

tower guard, bribed by ten crowns, would let the boats pass without

firing on them. Within the city, more than three hundred foreigners had

entered separately and stealthily, and were hidden in catholic houses.

In the middle of the night F. du Crest was to go to the Molard with

fire-arms and hoist a red flag. The firing of a heavy culverine would be

the signal for the priests to come to the support of their friends.

Certain episcopals would mount to the roofs of their houses with lighted

torches to summon the foreign troops to approach. The catholics of

Geneva and their allies would then leave their houses; three of the city

gates were to be forced by a locksmith of their party, the troops would

enter, and Genevans and strangers would advance shouting: ‘Long live our

prince, monseigneur of Geneva!’ The friends of independence and reform,

thus caught between two fires, would be unable to make any resistance.

Then would begin the executing of the judgment of God: if it had been

waited for long, it would only be the more terrible now. The pious

soldiers of the Church would fall upon the Lutherans and put them to

death. The city would be purged of all those seeds of the gospel and

liberty which were choking, within its walls, the ancient and glorious

plants of feudalism and popery. Finally to complete their work, the

conquerors would share the property of the vanquished, which the bishop

had in anticipation confiscated for their benefit, and Geneva, forever

bound to Rome, would thus become its slave and never its rival.[600]

On the 29th and 30th July all began to move round the city. On the

north, the Marshal of Burgundy, the bishop’s brother, was to descend

into the valley of the Leman, with six thousand men, raised in imperial

Burgundy. On the south, the Duke of Savoy had obtained permission of the

king of France to enlist in Dauphiny, ‘persons experienced in war.’

Numerous soldiers—some coming by land, others by water—were expected

from Chablais, Faucigny, Gex, and Vaud. A galley and other boats had

been fitted out near Thonon, to which place the artillery of Chillon had

been removed. Several corps were marching on Geneva. The bishop, who was

anything but brave, did not wish to leave Chambéry; but the duke, to

encourage him, gave him a body-guard of two hundred well-armed men, and

Pierre de la Baume quitted, not without alarm, the capital of Savoy

early in the morning of the 30th July, and halted at Lé-luiset, a

village situated about two leagues from Geneva, where he intended to

wait in safety the issue of the affair.

The corps nearest to Geneva appeared. Savoyard troops under the command

of Mauloz, castellan of Gaillard, reached their station in front of the

St. Antoine Gate. Armed men from Chablais advanced along the Thonon road

as far as Jargonnant, in front of the Rive gate. Other bands prepared to

enter by the gate on the side of Arve and Plainpalais. Barks and boats

filled with soldiers arrived in the waters that bathed the city. The

army that was to cross the Jura, and other corps, did not appear; but

the assembled forces were sufficient for the coup-de-main.[601]

[Sidenote: Levrat, The Traitor.]

While these manœuvres were going on without, everything seemed going on

well within. The man entrusted with the care of the artillery, and who

was called Le Bossu (the Hunchback), had been bribed. In the evening

Jean Levrat, ‘one of the most active of the traitors,’ had prowled about

his dwelling, and the keeper, not wishing to be compromised, had handed

him through a loophole the keys of the tower of Rive, where the cannons

had been stored. Levrat and his accomplices spiked several, and Le Bossu

had filled others with hay. The blacksmith had counterfeited the keys of

the city, and made iron implements to break down the gates.[602] The

most lively emotion prevailed in the houses of all the catholics. Party

walls had been broken through, so that they could go from one to another

and concert matters secretly. Michael Guillet, Thomas Moine, Jacques

Malbuisson, De Prato, Jean Levrat, and the Sire de Pesmes, went to and

fro watching that no man shrank back.

Throughout the whole of the 30th of July the Councils and the reformed

remained in complete ignorance of the blow that was impending. They knew

of the threats, but did not believe there was any danger, so that in the

evening of the 30th they had gone to rest as quietly as usual. In the

early part of the night a stranger desired to speak with the

premier-syndic on urgent business. Michael Sept received him. ‘I am from

Dauphiny,’ said the man: ‘I am a hearer of the Word of God, and should

grieve to see Geneva and the Gospel brought to destruction. The duke’s

army is marching upon your city; a number of soldiers are already

assembled all round you, and very early this morning the bishop left

Chambéry to make his entrance among you.’ It was a fellow-countryman of

Farel and Froment that undertook to save Geneva. But was there still

time? The premier-syndic immediately communicated the intelligence to

his colleagues, and it was resolved to arrest some of those who were

always ready to make common cause with the enemy outside. The syndics

questioned them, confronted them with one another, and gradually saw the

horrible plot unravelled, of which they had until that moment been

ignorant.[603] All the citizens upon whom they could rely were called to

arms. It was not yet midnight.

The episcopals, who had not gone to bed, waited in excitement for the

appointed hour. A great number of canons and priests had assembled in

the house of the canon of Brentena, Seigneur of Menthon, belonging to an

illustrious family of Savoy. They congratulated one another that the

plot had been so well arranged, and nothing in that assembly of

ecclesiastics was talked of but torches, banners, and artillery. In a

short time, however, one of their party came in, and told them that the

huguenots were arming everywhere. The reverend members of the chapter

ran to the window, and saw with affright a numerous patrol marching by.

The alarm spread; not an episcopal dared venture out: they hid the red

flag, the signal for the murder of the huguenots. One hope only

remained; the troops round Geneva were amply sufficient to secure the

triumph of the bishop.[604]

[Sidenote: Waiting For The Signal.]

And indeed the number of soldiers round the city was very great. Playing

on the word _Geneva, gens nova_, the leaders had chosen for their

watchword this cruel phrase: _Nous ferons ici gent nouvelle_,[605] that

is to say, they would extirpate the evangelicals from Geneva and replace

them by catholic Savoyards. They waited for the appointed signal and

turned their eyes to the roofs of the houses from which the torches were

to be waved. They fancied that some had been seen, but had soon

disappeared. While the anxious officers were asking what was to be done,

some of the soldiers noticed a simple-looking boy walking about on the

hill, peering innocently about him, but constantly getting nearer to the

city gates. He was taken before Mauloz the castellan and M. de Simon,

another of the leaders, who asked him what he was doing there at such an

hour of the night. The boy, who seemed greatly embarrassed, answered, ‘I

am looking for the mare I lost.’ It was not the case.

Three of the best citizens of Geneva, Jean d’Arlod, auditor, the zealous

Étienne d’Adda, and Pontet, happening to be at La Roche, three or four

leagues from Geneva, in the evening, had heard the enterprise talked of,

and had immediately mounted their horses in order to reach the gates

before the enemy.[606] Pushing rapidly along the by-roads, they stopped

at a farm-house a short distance from the city, where they learnt that

the Savoyard troops were already under the walls. D’Arlod directed one

of the farm-servants to go and see if they could enter. M. de Simon and

Mauloz the castellan, impatient to know the cause of the delay,

determined to make use of this poor boy, of whose innocence they felt no

doubts. ‘Hark ye!’ they said to him; ‘go and see whether the Rive and

St. Antoine gates are open.’ The lad, who was very unwilling to serve as

a scout to the Savoyards, replied: ‘Oh! I should be afraid they would

kill me.’ At that instant Mauloz, whose attention was divided between

the youth and the houses on which the torches were to be displayed,

exclaimed, ‘There is one!’ A brilliant light appeared over the city: the

whole force hailed it with joy, and the two captains could not turn away

their eyes. The light appeared and disappeared, returned, and was again

eclipsed, and every time it came in sight, strange to say, it looked

more elevated. Higher and higher it rose; already it overtopped the

tallest chimneys. There was something extraordinary about it, and the

Savoyards began to grow uneasy. ‘Why, can it be so?’ said those who knew

Geneva; ‘the light is ascending the spire of St. Pierre!... Yes, it is

so ... that is where the main watch of the city is stationed in time of

danger.’ At last the light ceased to move; it halted at the top of the

spire, which was built on the crest of the hill. It thus brooded over

the city, and seemed turned upon the Savoyard army, like the glaring eye

of the lion shining through the midnight darkness of the desert. Then a

panic terror seized the soldiers of Charles III.; their features were

disturbed, their hearts quaked. Mauloz, who had kept his eyes fixed on

the threatening apparition, turned in despair towards M. de Simon, who

was already moving off, and exclaimed: ‘We are discovered: we are

betrayed! We shall not enter Geneva to-night.’ The young messenger,

finding that nobody took heed of him, ran off to the farm to tell

D’Arlod and his friends what had taken place.[607]

[Sidenote: Retreat Of The Savoyards.]

Yet the lion’s eye still glared above the city. ‘The sugar-plums are all

ready for our supper,’ said the men-at-arms.[608] Every one thought of

retiring: Mauloz and Simon gave orders for the retreat. As day was

beginning to break, the Genevese look-outs stationed on the tower saw

the Savoyards filing off in the direction of Castle Gaillard, with drums

beating and colors flying.

The Genevan catholics were in suspense no longer: their enterprise had

miscarried. They were stupefied and furious against their allies. One of

them, Francis Regis, said with a great oath: ‘We are ruined and undone:

those gentlemen are not worth a straw. We made the signals, everything

was in good order, but the gentry deceived us.’[609] As for the bishop,

he was more frightened than disappointed. When the terrible beacon shone

out from the temple of St. Pierre’s, some men, commissioned to keep him

informed of what was going on, had started off full gallop, and reported

to him the ominous words of the ferocious Mauloz: ‘We are betrayed!’

Instantly the poor prelate mounted his horse, and rode hastily away to

join the duke.

When the sun rose, not an enemy was to be seen about the city. The

Genevans could not believe their eyes: the events of that memorable

night seemed almost miraculous, and they were transported with joy, like

men who have been saved from death. All the morning the streets were

filled with people; they exchanged glances, they shook hands with each

other; many blessed God; some could not believe that their catholic

fellow-citizens were cognizant of the plot. One little incident removed

every doubt. As some citizens happened to be passing the house of the

keeper of the artillery, they heard the shrill voice of a woman

screaming in great emotion: ‘Ha! traitor! you are betraying me as you

betrayed the city!’ ... A man replied with abuse and blows; the screams

of the wretched creature became louder and louder, and the coarse voice

of another woman was mingled with hers. It was the Bossu, his wife, and

servant: the keeper of the artillery had been surprised by his wife in

flagrant infidelity. The huguenots, hearing the uproar, stopped and

entered the house. ‘Yes,’ screamed the wife louder than ever; ‘yes,

traitor, you gave Jean Levrat the keys through the loop-hole.’ Levrat,

the Bossu, and the locksmith were immediately arrested.[610]

The leaders of the conspiracy remained, as usual, at liberty. Skulking

in their houses, Guillet, De Prato, Perceval de Pesmes, the two Du

Crests, the two Regis, and many others, knew well that they merited

death more than Portier; and, affrighted like the hare in its form,

which pricks up its ears to listen for the pursuing huntsman, they

started at the slightest noise, and fancied every moment that the

syndics or their officers were coming. As no one appeared, they formed a

desperate resolution: disguising themselves in various ways, they left

their houses and escaped; ‘and never returned to the city again,’ says

Froment. The bishop’s conspiracy with Portier and the Pennets had forced

several catholics to leave the council; the project of a night attack

obliged many to leave Geneva. Every effort made by catholicism to rise

helped it to descend, and every blow aimed at the Reformation for its

destruction raised it still higher. The citizens remarked to one

another, reports a contemporary, who has recorded the words: ‘It was God

who brought down the hearts of our enemies, both without and within, so

that they could not make use of their strength.’[611]

[Sidenote: Vigilance And Meditation.]

Meanwhile Geneva was not at ease. The Marshal of Burgundy and the

Governor of Chablais had not appeared; and the enemy might have

withdrawn only to wait for these powerful reinforcements. All the

citizens were called to arms. ‘Throughout that week a strong guard was

kept up, and the gates of the city were closed.’ As the episcopals had

often had recourse to the bells to summon their partisans, ‘it was

forbidden to ring the church-bells either day or night.’ A silence,

accompanied with meditation and vigilance, prevailed through the city.

The inhabitants were ready to sacrifice their lives, and showed their

resolution by a deep earnestness, and not by idle boasts. The preachers

would converse with the soldiers, speaking familiarly to them of _the

good fight_, and the soldiers never grew tired of listening to them.

‘What a new way of making war,’ said many. ‘In old times the soldiers

used to have dissolute women with them at their posts, but now they have

preachers, and instead of debauchery and filthy language, every thing is

turned to good.’[612]

Could such generous zeal save the city from the attacks of Savoy

supported by France, Friburg, Burgundy, and the mamelukes? There were

men who shook their heads with sorrow and ‘lived in fear and

despondency.’ But ‘a friend sticketh closer than a brother.’ On the

morning after the enterprise, a delegate from Lausanne arrived in

Geneva, and although the Duke had given orders that the Estates of Vaud

should make common cause with him, the messenger said: ‘We are ready,

brethren, to send you a hundred arquebusiers if you want them.’

Neuchâtel made a similar offer. Berne commissioned Francis Nägeli the

treasurer, the banneret Weingarten, and two other citizens, to exhort

the Duke and Marshal of Burgundy to desist from hostilities. The Swiss

cantons, assembled at Baden, forwarded a similar message to Charles III.

The partisans of the pope and of the bishop saw that as their enterprise

had miscarried, their cause was lost. The leaders had escaped at first:

now the flight became general. Even the friends of the Genevese

franchises began to leave the city; it was, therefore, natural that the

fanatics should depart to swell the ranks of the mamelukes. They took

with them all they could carry, and used various stratagems to get out

of the city, stealing away cautiously by night. Some took refuge on the

left shore of the lake; a greater number in the castle of Peney, on the

right bank of the Rhone, whence they kept the Genevese population

continually on the alert. Their wives and children, left behind in the

city, held secret interviews with them at the foot of the steep cliffs

which line the banks of the river, and told them all the news. No

Genevan citizen could start for Lyons without the refugees at Peney

being informed of it; they were always on the look-out for travellers.

It was a strange phenomenon, of which history presents, however, more

than one example, this opposition of the papists and feudalists to civil

and religious liberty degenerating into brigandage.[613]

The flight of the episcopalian laity destroyed the power of the clergy,

whose support they were, and made the reformers masters of the

situation. Geneva was resolved to keep within her walls none but those

who were ready to shed their blood for her. One night when the drum

called citizens to arms a timid man bade his wife say he was absent:

some of his neighbors, however, forced their way into his chamber and

found him hidden in bed, pretending to have the fever: he shook, indeed,

but it was with fear. The coward was banished from the city for life,

under pain of being flogged if he returned: a year later, however, he

was indulgently readmitted, ‘because it is not given to every man to

have the courage of a Cæsar,’ says the ‘Register’; but he was always

looked upon as an alien. Courage was at that time one of the

qualifications necessary for Genevese citizenship.[614]

[Sidenote: Frightened Nuns.]

While the mamelukes were indulging in highway robbery without the city,

the weaker members of the episcopal party who still remained within it

were living in fear. Their persons, their worship, their convents were

respected: not a hair of their heads was touched; but they trembled lest

the outrages of the refugees at Peney should excite the huguenots to

take their revenge. The nuns especially were in perpetual alarm. One

night, between eleven and twelve o’clock, the sisters of St. Claire were

startled from their slumbers by a loud knocking at the door: scared at

the noise, they listened with beating hearts. Then other knocks were

heard. Faint and trembling, they crept from their beds. The huguenots

are surely coming to avenge on them the perfidious night of the 31st of

July! ‘The heretics,’ they whispered one to another, ‘have broken down

the gates of the convent.’ The nuns ascribing guilty intentions to them,

ran to the abbess in dismay: ‘My dear children,’ said she, ‘fight

valiantly for the love of God.’ They waited, but nobody came.

The youngest of the nuns, who had been at service overnight with the

rest of the community, and made drowsy by the long prayers, had fallen

into a sound sleep; the under-superior had locked her in the church

without observing her. About eleven o’clock the unlucky sister awoke:

she looked round, and could not make out where she was.... At last she

recognized the chapel; but the darkness, the loneliness, the place

itself—all combined to frighten her. She fancied she could see the dead

taking advantage of that silent hour to quit their graves and wander

through the church.... Her limbs refused to move. At length she summoned

up courage and rushed to the door. It was locked. In her fright, she

gave it a violent blow. It was this which woke the sisters. Then she

listened, and as no one came, she knocked again three times, as loud as

she could.

While this was going on, the abbess prepared to receive the wolves who

were about to devour her innocent lambs. She first desired to know if

all her flock were present, and to her great anguish discovered that one

was missing. Then another knock, louder than all the rest, was heard.

‘Let us go forth,’ said the abbess, ‘and enter the church, for it will

be better for us to be before God than in the dormitory.’ They descended

the stairs; the abbess put the key into the lock, opened the door ...

and found before her the young nun, who, pale as death fainted away at

her feet.[615]

The tales that men took pleasure in circulating, and sometimes even

printing, about the reformers and the reformed, about Calvin and Luther

in particular, often had no more reality than the imaginations of the

nuns of St. Claire as to the designs of the huguenots, which had given

the poor girls such a terrible fright; and they were less innocent.

Footnote 591:

Registre du Conseil du 2 Juin, 1534.—La sœur Jeanne, _Levain du

Calvinisme_, pp. 89, 90.

Footnote 592:

Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, pp. 127-129; MS. de Gautier.

Footnote 593:

Registre du Conseil du 8 Juin, 1534.—MS. de Gautier; La sœur Jeanne,

_Levain du Calvinisme_, p. 88.

Footnote 594:

Registres du Conseil des 20 et 24 Juillet, 1534.—MS. de Gautier.

Footnote 595:

‘Aliis unguentis.’—Registres du Conseil du 24 Juillet, 1534.

Footnote 596:

Registres du Conseil des 30 Juin et 24 Juillet, 1534.—MS. de Gautier.

Footnote 597:

Registres du Conseil des 23 Juin et 7 Juillet, 1534.—Froment, _Gestes

de Genève_, p. 123; Ruchat, iii. p. 334.—MS. de Gautier.

Footnote 598:

Registres du Conseil des 24, 26 Juin, 17, 26, 27, 28 Juillet, 1534.

Footnote 599:

La Sœur Jeanne, _Levain du Calvinisme_, p. 94.

Footnote 600:

_Chron._ MS. de Roset, liv. iii. ch. xxvii.—MS. de Gautier.—Froment,

_Gestes de Genève_, pp. 123, 124.—Procès aux Archives.—Gaberel, Pièces

Justificatives.—Papiers Galiffe, communiqués par M. A. Roget, ii. 115.

Footnote 601:

_Chron._ de Roset.—Registre du Conseil des 17, 28, 31 Juillet,

1534.—Ruchat, iii. p. 325.—Vulliemin, _Histoire de la Suisse_, xi. p.

89.—Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, pp. 123-125.

Footnote 602:

Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 123.

Footnote 603:

Our account of the manner in which the plot was discovered is founded

on the testimony of many witnesses. Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p.

125; Roset (_Chron._ MS. liv. iii. ch. xxvii.), and the minutes or

Register of the Council which were drawn up by Roset’s father. Other

versions, differing from this narrative, do not appear to us to repose

upon such solid foundations.

Footnote 604:

Registre du Conseil du 31 Juillet, 1534.—_Chron._ MS. de Roset.

Footnote 605:

‘Faciemus hic gentem novam.’—_Geneva restituta_, p. 73. ‘We will make

a new people here.’

Footnote 606:

Registre du Conseil _in loco_.

Footnote 607:

Registre du Conseil du 25 Janvier, 1537. It was not until then that

D’Arlod related to the Council of Two Hundred what had happened to him

three years before. _Chron._ MS. de Roset, liv. iii. ch. xxvii.

Footnote 608:

The soldiers played upon the word _dragée_—which means small-shot as

well as sweetmeats.

Footnote 609:

Déposition de Jacques Maguin. Papiers Galiffe. A. Roget, ii. p. 116.

Footnote 610:

Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 125. Registre du Conseil du 31

Juillet, 1534. _Chron._ MS. de Roset.

Footnote 611:

Michel Roset, MS. Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, pp. 123-125. Registre

du Conseil du 7 Août, 1534.

Footnote 612:

La sœur Jeanne, _Levain du Calvinisme_, p. 92. Froment, _Gestes de

Genève_, p. 126. MS. de Gautier.

Footnote 613:

Registre du 30 Septembre, 1534. The ruins of the castle of Peney were

still to be seen a few years ago near Satigny, between the Lyons and

Geneva railway and the Rhone.

Footnote 614:

Registres du Conseil des 4, 12, 13 Août, 4 Septembre, 1534: 27

Janvier, 1535.

Footnote 615:

La Sœur Jeanne, _Levain du Calvinisme_, pp. 92-94.

CHAPTER XIV.

AN HEROIC RESOLUTION AND A HAPPY DELIVERANCE.

(AUGUST AND SEPTEMBER, 1534.)

The friends of independence and of the Reformation had better grounded

anxieties than those of the nuns of St. Claire: they understood that the

attack had only been adjourned, and that they must hold themselves ready

for severe struggles. Accordingly, Geneva mustered all her forces. ‘Let

those who are abroad return home,’ said the Council: but alas! two of

the most intrepid were in the prisons of the French primate, and about

to be sent to the stake. The sentence condemning Baudichon de la

Maisonneuve and his friend to death had been pronounced, as we have

seen. They had been delivered by the priests to the secular arm, and

were about to be executed, when a fresh attempt was made in their

behalf.

[Sidenote: Tales About Parel.]

There was a patrician family in Berne, illustrious for its ancient

nobility and valor, some of whose members had rendered signal services

to France. In the 15th century, Nicholas of Diesbach, the avoyer, allied

that puissant republic with Louis XI. against Charles the Bold, and had

gained several victories over the Burgundian forces. At Pavia, in 1525,

another of the family, John of Diesbach, commanded the Swiss auxiliary

troops of France. Stationed on the right wing, at the head of 2,000

Helvetians, at first he drove back the imperialist infantry and cavalry.

Francis I. was on the point of gaining the victory; but meanwhile his

left wing had been annihilated; in that quarter Suffolk, the heir of the

White Rose, the Duke of Lorraine’s brother, Nassau, Schomberg, La

Tremouille, San Severino, and the veteran La Palisse, fell on the field

of battle, and Montmorency was made prisoner. Nevertheless, the Swiss

still held their ground manfully, when Alençon, the king’s

brother-in-law, fleeing shamefully, and carrying after him part of the

French men-at-arms, caused Diesbach’s soldiers, who were fighting at his

side and already shouting victory, to waver. At that moment the

lansquenets, commanded by the redoubtable Freundsberg, fell furiously on

the Swiss and broke them. The Helvetians, seeing the Frenchmen retiring,

believed they were to be sacrificed to the hatred of the Germans. John

of Diesbach conjured and threatened them in vain; nothing could stop

them. Then the valorous captain rushed forward alone against a battalion

of lansquenets and fell dead. Bonnivet, in despair, stretched out his

neck to the spears of the enemy, and was killed: and Francis I. who was

the last to fight, yielded up his sword with a shudder to Lannoy.[616]

John of Diesbach had married a French lady, Mademoiselle de Refuge, to

whom the king had promised a dowry of 10,000 livres, but had afterwards

given her husband, as an equivalent, the lordship of Langes, which the

latter had bequeathed to his wife. But in 1533 Francis I. had taken back

the estate, without giving the promised dowry. The widow of the hero of

Pavia, finding herself thus deprived of her property by the man for whom

her husband had died, implored the intervention of Berne, and the chiefs

of that republic had commissioned another Diesbach, Rodolph, to proceed

to the court of France to support the just claims of his relation.

Rodolph departed on the 12th of January, 1534, accompanied by George

Schœner. This mission was destined to be of more importance to Geneva

than to Berne.[617]

Rodolph of Diesbach himself was highly esteemed in France. He had passed

his youth there, had studied at the University of Paris, and from 1507

to 1515 had taken part in the wars of Louis XII., and honorably

distinguished himself. On his return to Berne, he was one of those who

embraced the evangelical faith, and was often called to defend the

interests of Geneva and the Reformation. While Rodolph was in France

pleading the cause of his cousin, De la Maisonneuve and Janin were

imprisoned at Lyons, and Diesbach received instructions from the lords

of Berne to do all in his power to obtain their liberation from the

king. He set about it with all the energy of a Bernese and a warrior;

went to Blois, where Francis I. was then holding his court, and

earnestly solicited the enlargement of the two evangelicals.[618] He

regarded Baudichon de la Maisonneuve as his co-burgher and

co-religionist, and saw clearly how useful his presence would be in

Geneva. But, on the other hand, the catholic nobles and ultramontane

priests urged the king to suffer the two Genevans to be burnt. How could

Francis I., who had recently become the pope’s friend, and who had

ordered the heretics in his kingdom to be brought to trial[619]—how

could he save the heretics of Geneva? The friends as well as the enemies

of the Reformation were in the keenest suspense. Weeks, and even months

elapsed, without obtaining a decisive answer from the king.

[Sidenote: A Terrible Necessity.]

Geneva was greatly agitated during this long delay; but the absence of

the two energetic huguenots did not hinder the work from being pursued

with resolution. The magistrates desired to take and execute promptly

the supreme measures rendered necessary by the danger of the country. A

terrible and inexorable necessity continually rose before their minds.

To save Geneva, a great portion of it must be destroyed.

The city was at that time composed of two parts: the city proper and the

four suburbs. The suburb of the Temple, or _Aigues Vives_ (Eaux Vives),

stood on the left shore of the lake, and took its name from the church

of St. John of Rhodes, which stood there.[620] The suburb of Palais lay

to the left, on the picturesque banks of the Rhone; that of St. Leger

extended from the city to the bridge thrown over the icy torrent of the

Arve; and that of St. Victor, in which the monastery of that name was

situated, stretched from Malagnou to Champel. This town beyond the walls

not only had as many houses as the one within, but covered a far more

extensive surface, and contained over six thousand inhabitants.

On the 23d August the Two Hundred members of the Great Council received

a summons, bearing the words: ‘In consequent of urgent affairs of the

city.’[621] Every one understood what they meant. The premier-syndic

proposed to build up some of the gates, and to set a good guard; but

added, that such measures alone were not sufficient; that, as the

suburbs were very extensive, the enemy could establish himself in them;

and that it was necessary unhesitatingly to knock down all the houses,

barns, and walls, beginning with the nearest. Many were struck with

grief when they heard the proposition. What a resolution! what a

disaster! With their own hands the citizens were to destroy those

peaceful homes in which their childhood had played, where they had been

born, and where those whom they loved had died; and a great part of the

population would have no other shelter left them than the vault of

heaven. Yet the Two Hundred did not hesitate. The friends of the

Reformation, in whose eyes the Gospel had shone with all its brightness,

were prepared for the greatest sacrifices so that they might preserve

it. Those who were not touched by religious motives were carried away by

patriotic enthusiasm. ‘It is better to lose the hand than the arm ...

the suburbs than the city,’ exclaimed the citizens. The resolution was

agreed to; and without any delay—for the matter was urgent—the very same

day, after dinner, the four syndics, accompanied by Aimé Levet and five

other captains of the city, ‘went to give orders for the destruction of

the suburbs.’ There were cries and tears here and there, but nearly all

had formed the resolution to lay their goods, although with trembling

hands, upon the altar of their country and their faith.

It must be done, for every day the danger appeared to draw nearer. The

Genevese ambassadors at Berne wrote to the Council: ‘Be on your guard.’

Acts of violence and trifling skirmishes announced more serious combats.

On the 14th of August, Richerme, a merchant of Geneva, returning from

Lyons, was seized, dragged successively to three of the bishop’s

castles, and put to the torture. On the 25th, Chabot, another citizen,

was stopped at the Mont de Sion, taken to the castle of Peney, and also

put to the torture; but the judges, wishing to give a proof of their

good nature, added: ‘Do not let his bones be broken or his life

endangered.’ They soon brought in a new prisoner.

[Sidenote: The Embroiderer Of Avignon.]

There was an embroiderer at Avignon, ‘so superstitious in fasting,’ that

he had sometimes gone several days without eating or drinking. The poor

artisan, having received the Gospel, had ceased to attend mass, and had

consequently been sent to prison. The churchmen asked him how long it

was since he had been present at the sacrifice of the altar. ‘Three

years,’ he replied; ‘and with my own will neither myself nor any of my

family would ever have gone there.’ When they heard him talk in this

way, the priests did not dare put him to death, for they thought him

mad. Six months afterwards there came a great pestilence; every one

fled, and the prison-doors were left open: ‘seeing which the pious

embroiderer went out.’ He thirsted for the Gospel, and knowing that

there were great preachers at Geneva, he took the road to that city. His

travelling expenses were not great: ‘he had been accustomed to go from

Avignon to Lyons, more than sixty French leagues, for a _sol-de-roi_,’

says Froment. At last he reached the valley of the Leman, alone and a

fugitive, but joyfully anticipating the words of life that he was soon

to hear. Suddenly he was surrounded by a troop of horsemen, who asked

him roughly: ‘Where are you going?’ ‘To Geneva.’ ‘What to do?’ The

embroiderer answered frankly and courteously, as was his custom, ‘I am

going to hear the Gospel preached; will you not go and hear it also?’

‘No, indeed,’ answered the men. He began to press them: ‘Go, I entreat

you,’ he said. ‘I am surprised at you: you are so near, and I am come

expressly all the way from Avignon to hear it. I entreat you to come.’

‘March, rascal!’ they cried, ‘and we will teach you to hear those devils

of Geneva.’ They took him to Peney, and, on reaching the castle, said to

him: ‘We will give you three strappadoes in the name of the three devils

you wished to go and hear preach.’ Having tied his hands behind his

back, they raised him to the top of a long beam of wood, and let him

fall suddenly to within two feet of the ground. ‘That is in the name of

Farel,’ they cried; then came one for Froment, and another for Viret.

The poor fellow, all bruised as he was, getting on his legs as well as

he could, again looked at his tormentors, and, touched with love for

them, repeated, in a persuasive tone: ‘Come along with me and hear the

Gospel.’ The indignant Peneysans answered roughly: ‘March back quickly

to the place from whence you came,’ which he would not do for anything

they could do to him. ‘He is out of his mind,’ they said; and, taking

him for an idiot, they let him go. The poor man reached Geneva at last,

and was lodged for nearly two months, says Froment, ‘with the author of

this book, to whom he related the whole matter.’[622]

Such deeds of violence showed the Genevans that there was no time to

lose. In the month of August the resolutions of the Council followed one

another rapidly. On the 18th they ordered that the church and priory of

St. Victor should be demolished; on the 23d, that all the houses, barns,

and walls in the suburbs should be pulled down; and that a certain

number of Swiss veteran soldiers should be enrolled who should be fed

and lodged by the rich in turn; on the 24th, that all absentees should

be summoned to return for the defence of the city; on the 1st of

September, that it should be fortified on the side of the lake; on the

11th, that the trees around the walls which might screen the approach of

the enemy should be cut down; and on the 13th, that every man should

begin to pull down his house within two days, that is, by the 15th of

September.[623]

The calamity then appeared before them as imminent and inexorable, and

with all its coarser and sad realities. The weaker minds were

distressed, the more excitable gave way to anger. In the suburbs there

was much clamor. What! the houses to be levelled to the ground, like

those of traitors, and that too by the very hands of the inhabitants!

The priests shuddered at the thought that the churches of St. Victor,

St. Leger, and of the Knights of Rhodes were to be destroyed.

Discontented citizens pointed coolly to the solidity of the condemned

edifices, and declared that it would not be possible to pull them down.

And, finally, the chiefs of the catholic party, foreseeing that the

measures which were to be the salvation of Reform would be the ruin of

popery, determined to make a vigorous demonstration against them.

Thirty of the most notable catholics, headed by Anthony Fabri, one of

the family of the celebrated Bishop Waldemar, and Philip de la Rive,

waited upon the council. Fabri, who had been elected spokesman, was

calm, but by his side stood De Muro (du Mur), who was much excited. ‘We

demand that the suburbs be left in their present condition, as being

beautiful, convenient, and more useful to the city than if they were

destroyed.’ The council, whom it pained to impose such a sacrifice,

reserved the power of compensating the greatest sufferers, but held to

their orders. ‘I crave permission to leave the city,’ said De Muro,

‘with eight hundred of my co-burghers, for this demolition is an act of

hostility against us.’[624]

[Sidenote: Baudichon Liberated.]

At the very time when certain of the citizens were threatening to leave

Geneva, the friends of independence desired all the more to see the

return of those who were away. There was one in particular whose

decision and courage were appreciated by all. Suddenly, on the 26th of

September, the very day when De Muro had used that threatening language,

a report circulated through the city that Baudichon de la Maisonneuve

and his companion had been set at liberty.

Rodolph of Diesbach and George Schœner had not ceased to implore the

king’s intervention. Although the prince, who in a few months was to

fill the streets of his capital with strappadoes and burning piles, did

not feel any very sincere compassion for the two heretics, still he

desired to conciliate the favor of the Swiss, and perhaps not being much

inclined to restore her estates to John of Diesbach’s widow, he was not

sorry to give the Bernese some other satisfaction. The cause of justice

triumphed at last. Moved by Diesbach’s earnest solicitations, Francis I.

granted the release of the prisoners. The two Bernese, instead of

‘tarrying to turn from side to side to the helps of this world,’

acknowledged the protection of God. ‘We have obtained their liberty,’

said the ambassadors, ‘God having given them to us.’[625] They started

immediately for Lyons, furnished with letters under his Majesty’s seal,

which they presented to the authorities in whose guard the prisoners

were kept ‘until they should be burnt, as was the practice in those

days.’[626] The gates of the prison were opened; De la Maisonneuve and

Janin were given up to the Bernese. At the news of such an unprecedented

act, the officials, inquisitors, and canons of St. John were amazed; all

the priests of Lyons were sorely vexed, and the archbishop of Geneva

still more so; but they were forced to be patient.[627] As for the

prisoners, they knew that if God delivers his servants, it is not with

the intent that they should abandon what they have begun. Instead of

saying, when they were restored to liberty, Let us remain for a time in

the shade, lest we be exposed to new dangers, they desired to work with

greater zeal at the emancipation of their country. They travelled from

Lyons to Geneva with the two lords of Berne, and were once more within

the walls of that ancient city.

[Sidenote: The Prisoners Restored.]

There was still so much uneasiness felt about them, that on the 16th of

September, when the news spread that some Bernese gentlemen had arrived

at the hostelry of the Tour Perse[628] with Baudichon and Collonier,

many persons would hardly believe it. God gave the Genevans more than

they hoped for. When friends who have been supposed lost are found

again, those who had sorrowed over their bereavement run to meet them,

and feel an inexpressible satisfaction as they look at them. So it

happened at Geneva when the two prisoners returned. There was great joy

in the city: many gave thanks to God that ‘the violent course of the

wolves who would have devoured the best sheep of the flock had been

frustrated,’ and praised the King of France because he valued the

arquebuses of the Swiss more than the paternosters of the priests.

Desirous of showing the ambassadors a mark of respectful gratitude, the

four syndics and the councillors, with their ushers and serjeants,

proceeded on the 17th of September to the Tour Perse[629] to hold an

official sitting, at which the transfer of the prisoners was to be made.

The chief magistrates of the republic having taken their seats in one of

the large rooms, according to the usual order, Rodolph of Diesbach and

G. Schœner entered, accompanied by the captives. Those noble gentlemen

explained that they had come from Lyons and the court of France; that

with God’s aid they had obtained the release of the two Genevans; that,

according to rule, they ought to deliver the prisoners into the hands of

the magnificent lords of Berne, to whose intervention their deliverance

was due;[630] that they yielded, however, to the wishes of Baudichon and

Collonier, who preferred to remain in the city of Geneva;[631] and that

they only wanted a guarantee that the Council would be willing to

produce them before Messieurs of Berne, whenever the latter demanded

them.[632] The Genevese magistrates thanked the lords of Berne, and gave

the required guarantee in writing.[633]

At last De la Maisonneuve was free: he could return to his wife and

children, and converse with his friends. The latter were never tired of

listening to him: the particulars of his imprisonment, his examinations,

and his dangers possessed the liveliest interest for them. Froment

especially, who was fond of a gossip,[634] asked him many questions. ‘As

Baudichon told me,’ we read in his _Gestes_, ‘all that could not be done

without great expense, and his captivity cost him one thousand and fifty

crowns of the sun.’[635]

A letter from Francis I. completed this episode in the history of the

Reformation. Four days after the prisoners had been restored to their

homes, that prince wrote to the syndics at Geneva:—[636]

‘To our very dear and good friends the lords of Geneva:

‘Very dear and good friends,—You know how, at your earnest prayer

and request, and also at that of our very dear and great friends,

confederates, allies, and gossips, the lords of the city and canton

of Berne, we have restored and sent back certain prisoners who had,

in this our kingdom, used words respecting the faith, such and of

such consequence, that therefore they had been condemned to death.

This we were right willing to do; for the affection we have to

gratify you and the said lords of Berne, as well in this respect as

in all others that may be possible to us, having perfect confidence

that you are willing to do the like for us. For this cause, having

been advertised that you have detained in prison in your city a monk

our subject, Guy Furbity by name, of the order of Preaching Friars,

for having held certain language and dogmatized things touching the

faith of the Church, which did not seem good to you, and for which

he is about to be brought to trial, we desire to pray you right

affectionately by these presents, that, showing towards us

reciprocal pleasure, you would immediately release the said Furbity

our subject, without further proceedings against him for the reasons

aforesaid. By so doing you will please us very agreeably. Praying

the Creator to guard you, our very dear and good friends, in his

most holy keeping. Written at Blois the xxist day of September, one

thousand v hundred xxxiiij.

‘FRANÇOYS. BRETON.’

[Sidenote: Furbity Set At Liberty.]

Francis I. said: I send you back two prisoners, return me one. That

seemed just and natural, yet the petty republic did not yield to the

demand of the puissant king of France. The Council desired to follow

conscientiously the legal course, and the rules of diplomacy. They found

that the two cases were not identical; and as the Dominican had been

imprisoned at the instance of the lords of Berne, it was agreed to ask

their opinion first. The favor of the house of Valois could not make the

magistrates of Geneva yield, even after the extraordinary boon they had

just received: they desired, above all things, to follow the principles

admitted in politics, and act justly towards the Bernese. Furbity was

set at liberty at the beginning of 1536.

To have imprisoned the Dominican at all for preaching was a fault, and

to keep him in prison was another; but in each case the fault was that

of the age. With this reserve, we may pay to the courage of the weak the

honor that is due to them. It is a noble thing in small states to hold

firm to their principles in the presence of powerful empires, when they

do so without presumption. And not only is it noble, it is salutary

also, and invests them with a moral force which guarantees their

existence. The petty republics of Switzerland and Geneva in particular

have given more signal examples than that which has just been recorded.

Footnote 616:

Narrative of Pescara and Freundsberg. _Histoire de la Suisse_, by Jean

de Muller, continued by MM. Gloutz-Blotzheim, J. J. Hottinger,

Monnard, and L. Vulliemin.

Footnote 617:

MS. chronicles of the Diesbach family at Berne.

Footnote 618:

Registre du Conseil de Genève, 17 September, 1534.

Footnote 619:

‘_Faire et perfaire le procès des hérétiques._’—Letter to the Bishop

of Paris.

Footnote 620:

Near the Pré l’Évêque.

Footnote 621:

Registre du Conseil _ad diem_.

Footnote 622:

Froment, _Actes et Gestes Merveilleux de la Cité de Genève_, pp. 174,

175.

Footnote 623:

Council Registers under the dates mentioned.

Footnote 624:

Registre du Conseil du 14 Septembre, 1534.

Footnote 625:

‘Deo dante illorum relaxationem obtinuerunt.’ Registres du Conseil du

14 Septembre, 1534.

Footnote 626:

Note by Flournois on the corresponding passage of the Council

Registers.

Footnote 627:

Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 244.

Footnote 628:

Registre du Conseil du 17 Septembre, 1534.

Footnote 629:

‘In domo turris Perse.’ Registre du Conseil du 17 Septembre, 1534.

Footnote 630:

’Illos debere magnificis Dominis Bernatibus præsentari.’—_Ibid._

Footnote 631:

‘Dicti Baudichon et Collonier optant potius in hac civitate expectare,

quod alibi.’—_Ibid._

Footnote 632:

‘Petunt cautionem de repræsentando eosdem.’—_Ibid._

Footnote 633:

‘Super quo factum remersiationibus.’—_Ibid._

Footnote 634:

Bonnet, _Lettres Françaises de Calvin_, ii. p. 575.

Footnote 635:

Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 244.

Footnote 636:

Archives of Geneva, No. 1054, year 1534.

CHAPTER XV.

THE SUBURBS OF GENEVA ARE DEMOLISHED AND THE ADVERSARIES MAKE READY.

(SEPTEMBER 1534 TO JANUARY 1535.)

Baudichon de la Maisonneuve and Janin re-entered Geneva the day after

that on which the final order to demolish the suburbs was given. The

captain of the Lutherans was restored to his country at the very moment

when the deadliest blows were aimed at it. The coincidence was

remarkable. The return of these two energetic citizens could not but

give a fresh impetus to the resolution to sacrifice one half of the city

in order to save the other. The first walls destined to fall were those

of the monastery of St. Victor, which, as it stood at the gate of the

city, might easily be occupied by the enemy’s army as an advanced

post.[637] There were no tears shed over the destruction of that

building, except such as might have been drawn down by the thought of

its antiquity. Ever since Bonivard the prior had been prisoner at

Chillon, the monks had shaken off every kind of restraint, and the

monastery had become a sty of scandals and disorders. The friars had

been in the habit of frequenting certain houses of ill fame in their

suburbs; but now the convent was the scene of their continual orgies. No

sooner was there a talk of destroying that nest of debauchery than the

reprobates exhibited the most insatiable greediness. The monks and their

mistresses began to pillage the monastery; they tore down and carried

away everything that was of any value; at night, and sometimes even

during the day, they were seen leaving the monastery with bundles, and

hiding their plunder in the adjoining houses. The priory was thus not

only emptied, but almost stripped to the bare walls.[638] What an

ignoble fall was that of these pretended religious orders!

Notwithstanding their robbery, the Council assigned the monks a

residence in the city, and even a chapel, which was more than they

deserved.

Then every man put his hand to the work. All was life and animation on

those beautiful heights whence the eye takes in the lake, the Alps, the

Jura, and the valley lying between them. First, the church was pulled

down, and then the priory, and nothing was left but rubbish which

encumbered the ground. That building, the most ancient in Geneva, was

founded at the beginning of the sixth century by Queen Sedeleuba, sister

of Queen Clotilda, in memory of the victories of her brother-in-law,

Clovis;[639]—that temple where the body of St. Victor had been deposited

during the night, and which (as it was said) a light from heaven pointed

out to strangers,—that sanctuary to which the great ones of the earth

had gone as pilgrims, was now an undistinguishable ruin. That monument,

erected to commemorate the triumph of orthodoxy defended by Clovis over

Arianism professed by Gondebald, crumbled to the ground, after lasting

more than a thousand years, in the midst of the libertinism of its

monks. A crown had been placed on the cradle of St. Victor—a rod should

have been placed upon its ruins.

[Sidenote: Lamentations Of The Dead.]

Yet things that have been great in the eyes of men do not always end

like those that have been vulgar. One day a strange report, set afloat

by the monks and nuns, circulated through the city. During the night,

voices, groans, and lamentations had been heard among the ruins of St.

Victor. The wind, when it blows strong over those heights, often

resembles the human voice. The devotees listened: again the plaintive

tones were heard, and agitated them. ‘Ah!’ they exclaimed, ‘it is the

dead groaning, and not without reason, because their repose has been

disturbed.’ The crowd increased, and ere long ‘the ghosts were plainly

lamenting, not only by night, but by day.’ If the dead lamented over the

fall of St. Victor, the living had reason to weep still more over the

church, whose monks had been its disgrace instead of its glory.

After the priory, the houses nearest to the city were pulled down one by

one. When the citizens, wearied by their labors, sat down on the ruins

to rest, they asked what was to become of them. ‘Where shall I store my

goods, where shelter my wife and children?’ said Jean Montagnier. ‘And

where shall I go myself?’ A poor mason, an infirm old man, burst into

tears when he saw his wretched home demolished: the Council gave him a

measure of wheat, and promised to pay his rent. But if the magistrates

showed kindness to the wretched, they were inflexible to the rebels.

Magdalen Picot, a widow, having insulted the syndics in a fit of

passion, was sentenced to three days’ imprisonment. If the poor lamented

their hovels, the rich regretted their beautiful houses, the pleasant

gardens round them, the smiling meadows watered by running streams and

overshadowed by majestic trees, the fountains and the temple of the

Crusaders, whose Gothic walls imparted an antique and religious

character to the pleasing picture. A poet gave utterance to their

thoughts in these lines:—

Urbe fuere mihi majora suburbia quondam,

Templis et domibus nec speciosa minus,

Quinetiam irriguis pratis, hortis et amœnis;

Pascebant oculos hæc animosque magis.[640]

Amid such lamentations, all good citizens and zealous evangelicals

remained firm; but De Muro with a great number of catholics quitted

Geneva, and passed over to the enemy’s camp. Henceforward they were to

fight no longer against the Reformation with secret conspiracies; they

would attack it in open war: _aperto bello patriam oppugnaturi_.[641]

[Sidenote: The Affrighted Nuns.]

At the same time that the houses were demolished, ramparts were built.

Tribolet, captain of Berne, and one of the envoys from that republic, a

man of experience, quick and compassionate at the same time, directed

the construction of the earthworks and masonry intended to fortify the

city. Towards the end of September, he began to plot out the lines in a

garden adjoining the convent of St. Claire. Rich and poor, great and

small, wheeled their barrows filled with earth and stones. When the work

was done, Tribolet decided that it must be continued into the next

garden, that of the nuns; and on the 30th of September, as early as four

in the morning, they were politely requested to remove from the garden

everything they wished to keep. Sorely distressed at this terrible

message, they began to call upon God through the intercession of the

Virgin and the saints. ‘We are secluded from the world for the love of

God,’ said the abbess to the Bernese captain; ‘forbear from breaking

into our holy cloister.’ Tribolet explained to her that the safety of

the city required it, and added that he would do his work, ‘whether they

liked it or not.’ Thereupon the frightened sisters threw open the

convent, and running into the church, fell prostrate to the earth,

weeping bitterly. When the captain opened the door, and saw the poor

women stretched on the pavement, he said kindly to them: ‘Do not be

afraid, we shall do you no harm.’ The sisters were much surprised to

find a heretic could be so good-natured.[642]

Meanwhile the work of destruction continued, and as the materials were

employed to build the fortification and repair the breaches in the

walls, we may say with Bonivard, ‘_Etiam periere ruinæ_:’ ‘the very

ruins have perished.’

But what was to be done with the six thousand citizens expelled from

their homes? Were they to be left to wander about, exposed to the

robbers of the neighborhood? There would have been room for a great

portion of them in the convents, but those buildings were kept closed.

On the other hand, the houses of the huguenots were thrown open, even to

catholics. The citizens had incurred debts through long wars, their

trade was ruined and their fields laid waste.... Nevertheless he that

possessed two rooms gave up one, and he who had a loaf of bread shared

it with his brother. Syndic Duvilard was empowered to lodge

provisionally, either in the state buildings or in private houses, such

as had been deprived of their homes. If any destitute persons were seen

loitering in the streets, benevolent men and pious women would accost

them, take them home, sit them down at the family table, and every place

however small, was fitted up with sleeping accommodation. The Council

even gave aid and comfort to the rich. Butini of Miolans was lodged,

says the Register, in the house of the curate of St. Leger.