The activity of the Genevese was constantly stimulated by the news which

reached them from without. ‘The Duke of Savoy,’ said letters from Berne,

‘is collecting an army of brigands, and preparing perpetual troubles for

you.’ Towards the end of September, the two Gallatins (John the notary

and his son Pierre), having gone to their estate at Peicy for the

vintage, were on their return summoned before the Council on a charge of

communicating with the people in the castle of Peney, which was half a

league distant. The father said that, while he was in the press-house

pressing the grapes, Nicod de Prato and other Peneysans had called on

him. Did any one ever refuse a visit paid in the press-house? They had

taken a glass of wine together, and that was all. ‘As for me,’ said the

son, ‘I confess that I went to Peney and drank with the episcopal

fugitives there; they told me that ere long we should have a _stout

war_; that it would not be a little one like De Mauloz’ night attack on

the 31st of July; that they would come in great force, and that I should

do well to leave the city. When I returned (continued Pierre) I reported

it all to my captain.’ The two Gallatins were immediately discharged

without any remark.[643]

The first enemy which the bishop loosed against his flock was famine: he

gave orders to intercept the provisions all round the city. The

market-place was deserted, the stores in the houses were gradually

exhausted, and the episcopals flattered themselves that before long none

but hungry phantoms would be seen in Geneva, instead of valiant

citizens. ‘Oh, insensate shepherd! he robs even his sheep of their food,

when he should feed them,’ said one who was among the number confined

within the city walls. Unhappy bishop! unhappy Geneva![644]

[Sidenote: Geneva Encircled With Iron.]

As if starvation was not enough, the unnatural pastor surrounded Geneva

with a circle of iron. His castle of Jussy to the east, at the foot of

the Voirons; that of Peney to the west, on the banks of the Rhone; the

Duke’s castle of Galliad to the south-west, on the heights overlooking

the Arve; and to the north on the lake, the village of Versoix, at that

time well defended: all these fortresses, filled with mamelukes and

soldiers, hemmed in the city, and left no issue but by the lake. ‘In

this way no one can leave Geneva,’ they said, ‘except at the risk of his

life.’ The bishop followed the example given by dispossessed

princes—nay, even by ecclesiastical authorities, and connived more or

less at the brigands. Many gentlemen of those districts, returning with

delight to a trade their fathers had formerly practised, kept watch in

their eyries for the little merchant caravans, to pounce upon them. One

day some devout catholics of Valais, on their way to France with a long

file of well-laden mules, were stripped by these rough episcopals.

Beyond the Fort de l’Ecluse was situated a castle—a thorough den of

robbers—belonging to the Seigneur of Avanchi, ‘the cunningest and

cruellest man ever known.’ Accompanied by a few savage mercenaries, he

would lie in ambush near the high-road, and when travellers appeared,

spring from the rocks like a wild beast, ‘tearing out the eyes of some,

and cutting off the ears of others.’ D’Avanchi treated in this manner a

poor tradesman who had printed some New Testaments;[645] and when the

judge of the castle remonstrated with him for his cruelty, the seigneur

killed him on the spot. He showed no preference, however, so far as

religion was concerned. Having fallen in with some nuns one day, he

graciously invited them to enter his mansion under pretence of giving

them alms, and then maltreated them. The fierce and sensual wild-boar of

the Jura was taken to Dôle, and there put to death by order of a

catholic tribunal.[646]

The bishop now took another step: he ordered the episcopal see to be

transferred from Geneva to the town of Gex, at the foot of the Jura, and

gave instructions ‘that his council, court, judges, and all other

officers should proceed thither.’ In the night of the 24th of September

the episcopal officers escaped stealthily, and the city was left not

only without prelate, but also without civil judges or courts of appeal.

When the news of this flight got abroad in the morning, De la

Maisonneuve, Levet, Salomon, and their friends felt an immense relief.

At last they were free from that episcopal crew, who had so often caught

the Genevese in their toils ‘by frauds and snares.’[647] The Council

forbade the seals, the symbol of supreme authority, to be taken from

Geneva.[648] The prince bishop assembled at Gex a great number of

priests from the surrounding districts. ‘We must crush that Lutheran

sect,’ he told them, ‘by war or otherwise. It is not enough to remain

entrenched in our camp, we must force the enemy in theirs.’

[Sidenote: Thunderbolts Against Geneva.]

Pierre de la Baume launched his thunderbolts at last. In every parish of

the Chablais, Faucigny, Gex, and Bugey, in every abbey, priory, and

convent, the great excommunication was pronounced in his name, not only

against the councils and citizens of Geneva, but against all who should

hear the preachers or talk with them, and even against any persons who

should enter the city for any purpose whatsoever. Hereafter, the

superstitious rural population looked upon Geneva as a place inhabited

by devils. Some men of Thonon, more curious than the rest, ventured to

pay it a visit, and on their return declared ‘that the preachers were

really men and not demons.’ These rash individuals were arrested and

taken to Gex, where the bishop sent them to prison;[649] and after that

time no one dared go to Geneva.

The friends of the Reformation were not discouraged by these hostile

acts. ‘By Christmas at the latest,’ they said, ‘all the churches will be

empty, and the whole city of one faith.’[650] ‘It is all for the best,’

added many. ‘Once upon a time the bishops usurped the franchises of the

city; now they return them to us and go away. Well, then, let us do

without bishops, and govern ourselves.’ The Council did not think fit to

proceed so quickly, and merely resolved ‘that everything should be

written down which the bishop had done against the city, by way of

precaution against him.’[651] When the canons, the representatives of

the prelate, assembled for their usual monthly meeting,[652] the syndics

and council appeared before them: ‘Forsaken by our bishop, who is

exciting cruel soldiers against his flock, what shall we do, reverend

sirs?’ they asked. ‘The see is vacant: we pray you to recognise the

fact, and to elect, as in your privilege, the necessary functionaries

for the city, in the place of those who have deserted their

office.’[653]

The canons having answered in a dilatory manner, the councils, who were

always rigid observers of precedent, resolved to apply to the only

authority that could decide between them and the bishop. The Genevese

appealed to the pope. It was a strange step, but appeals to the Roman

pontiff as head of the catholic world, partly founded on the forged

decretals of the pseudo Isidore,[654] were then in full vigor. That

petty people followed the path of legality, and by this means attained

their end. The men who have succeeded, remarks an historian, are those

who, in the very midst of a revolution, have neither accepted nor

adopted a revolutionary policy.[655] On the 7th of October, 1534, the

syndics and council entered an appeal at Rome, complaining that their

bishop had deprived them of their franchises and jurisdiction. It was

not a matter of religion, but of policy. The prince of the Vatican was

called upon to fulfil his obligations. It was Rome who broke the bond:

no answer was returned, which greatly delighted the evangelicals.[656]

[Sidenote: Proceedings Of The Duke.]

But as the pope laid down the crosier the duke took it up. He succeeded

in gaining over some Bernese ambassadors who had been sent to him, and

these men, enraptured with the prince’s courteous manners, tried to

convince the people of Geneva of his goodness. ‘We know him,’ said the

huguenot, ‘he has an ass’s head and a fox’s tail.’[657] The Bernese

continued: ‘Everything will be forgiven, but on condition that you send

away these new preachers; that you permit such preachings no longer;

that the bishop be restored to his former estate, and finally that you

live in the faith of our holy mother, the Church.’[658] The Genevans

could hardly believe their ears. The Little and the Great Council having

sent for the ambassadors of Berne, told them plainly and curtly: ‘You

ask us to abandon our liberties and the Gospel of Jesus Christ. We would

sooner renounce father and mother, wife and children, we would sooner

lose our goods and our life! Tell the duke we will set fire to the four

corners of the city, before we dismiss the preachers who announce the

Word of God.... Nevertheless, they offer to endure death, if it can be

shown by Scripture that they are wrong.’ The men of Berne were greatly

astonished at such a reply.[659]

The duke was still more astonished; the measure was full, the insolence

of that handful of friends to the evangelical doctrine must be severely

punished. ‘Seeing this, the duke and all his following (_sequelle_),

more inflamed than ever with anger against Geneva, consulted together to

make war upon it.’ From every quarter the heads of the clergy (and

Bishop du Bellay in particular) conjured him ‘to support the authority

of the holy faith in the city of Geneva.’[660] The persuasion of these

prelates inflamed the prince with such zeal for the maintenance of the

papacy, that, unmindful of every treaty, he sent letters to Valais and

the catholic cantons, demanding their assistance _propter fidem_, in

behalf of the true faith, against the cities of Geneva, Lausanne, and

others.[661] At the same time he despatched orders to his governors,

gentlemen, provosts and other officers, ‘to ruin and destroy

Geneva.’[662] On the 20th of November a diet was held at Thonon to

decide upon the fate of the city; and as the aristocratic influence

prevailed just then at Berne, the Bernese deputies adopted the sinister

resolutions of Savoy. Even Charles V. declared through an ambassador his

support of the duke’s demands, and required that, prior to any other

measure, the bishop should be restored to all his rights.

Happily the citizens of Geneva were not without timely warning of the

storm that was about to burst upon them. The messengers, commissioned by

Charles III. to carry his rigorous orders to his agents, had to pass

through certain villages, where they would sometimes halt at the inn.

Everybody noticed their embarrassed manner, and in some places there

were well-disposed persons who stopped and searched them, and

discovering their letters took them away and sent them to the syndics.

The latter comprehended the danger impending over the city, and

accordingly took the measures necessary for its defence.[663] The

friends of independence and of the Reformation, instead of being

dejected by such news, felt their courage increased. It was as if a

spark had fallen upon powder; their spirits caught fire. The hour of

sacrifices and energetic resolutions had arrived; there were no more

paltry scruples, evasions or delays, no more timid compromises. For a

thing to succeed, it must be done with decision. The Genevese therefore

boldly grasped the hammer, and with fresh strength began to demolish the

suburbs and popery at the same time. At the Pré l’Evêque, they took down

a stone cross because (as they said) ‘it turned men away from the true

cross of Jesus Christ.’[664] At St. Leger, as the church had been

demolished, they destroyed the images also. Still the Roman worship

remained free; while Rome was attacking Geneva, Geneva protected Rome.

The canons having timidly asked the Council, on the 24th of December, if

they might celebrate the Christmas matins next day, the syndics posted

themselves at the doors of the different churches ‘with men-at-arms to

prevent annoyance,’ until divine service was over.[665]

[Sidenote: Switzerland Against Geneva.]

Geneva had still one hope remaining. Would those same Switzers, who had

shaken off the oppression of Austria, permit Savoy to place Geneva under

the yoke? Would the protestant republic of Berne, which had done so much

to sow the good seed in this allied city,—which to this end had brought

thither and protected Farel, Viret, and Froment,—would that republic

turn away, now that the grain was beginning to shoot forth, and the

harvest was at hand? It seemed impossible. A diet was to meet at Lucerne

in January, to deliberate what Switzerland should do in this

conjuncture. All the ideas of the Genevans were concentred on that one

point. Not only did a majority of the cantons, but the Bernese

themselves, consent to the restoration of the duke and the bishop. They

required, indeed, that liberty of conscience should be respected; ‘for,’

said they, ‘it does not depend upon man to believe what he wishes; faith

is the gift of God.’ But the duke and the bishop had the frankness to

reject such a condition: ‘We claim,’ they said, ‘the right of ordering

everything that concerns religion in our states.’—‘We mean,’ added their

representatives, ‘that the preachers shall be expelled from the city,

and that Berne shall break off her alliance with it.’ At these words

grief and indignation pierced the Genevan deputies like a sword. ‘What!’

they said; ‘the bishop complains of being robbed of his jurisdiction,

and it is he who is the robber! He has been always wishing to strip

Geneva of her franchises; and not long ago he transferred the officers

of justice, the courts, and the tribunals, to a foreign country.’ The

diet was inexorable. They resolved that the duke and the bishop should

be reinstated in the possession of all their lordships and privileges.

To no purpose did Syndic Claude Savoie and Jean Lullin, who were alarmed

at this decision, hasten to Lucerne and declare that Geneva would never

accept the articles voted. ‘You ought to thank us,’ answered the

Swiss,—was it in irony or in sincerity?—‘instead of which you insult us.

Accept the mandate.’—‘We cannot,’ proudly answered the deputies. ‘In

that case,’ resumed the cantons, ‘we have only to place the matter in

the hands of God.’[666]

Geneva was abandoned by all, even by Berne. The news filled the citizens

with the liveliest emotion. There was nothing left them but God, and God

is mighty. ‘Yes,’ said they, ‘be it so, let God decide.’ Men worked at

the walls and prepared their arms, the women prayed, and the children in

their games defied Savoy and the bishop. The bells of the demolished

churches were melted down to make cannon. Every night, men on guard

stretched the chains across the streets, and the watchword was to make

‘good ward and sure ward.’ Everything was carried out with order,

calmness, and courage.[667]

Their enemies smiled at this activity, and asked how it could be

possible for such a small city to resist the numerous forces about to

march against it. But wiser men were not ignorant that in the world

faith often prevails over superstition, wisdom over strength, piety over

anger, and that the great mission falls ultimately to the just and the

calm. Charles V., who aspired to place his sword in the balance, and

other great and ambitious men, have had something gigantic in them;

extraordinary ideas have flashed across their minds like lightning, and

they have often cast a wide and sombre light over history; but they have

founded nothing lasting. All great and solid creations belong to

justice, perseverance, and faith.

[Sidenote: The Song Of Resurrection.]

The spirit of self-sacrifice and firmness with which the Genevans

demolished one half of their city was a pledge of victory. At the

beginning of 1535 the work was almost ended. A few, however, of the

remoter buildings did not come down until 1536, and even 1537.

Everything was levelled round the walls, the approaches to the place

were free, the artillery could play without obstruction, the lines

intended to cover the city were formed, the ramparts were built, and

Geneva, witnessing the labors of her children, and her sudden and

marvellous transformation, might well exclaim by the mouth of one of her

poets:—

. . . . . Incepit tentandi causa pudoris

Alliciens varios hæc mea forma procos;

Qui me cum blandis non possent fallere verbis,

Ecce minas addunt, denique vimque parant.

Tunc ego non volui pulchrum præponere honesto,

Diripui rigida sed mea pulchra manu

Templa, domos, hortos, in propugnacula verti,

Arcerent stolidos quæ procul inde procos.

Diripui pulchrum certe, ut tutarer honestum.

_E pulchra et fortis facta Geneva vocor._[668]

Geneva was then passing through the arduous ordeal of transformation.

Rough blows assailed her, groans burst from her bosom, and on her

features was the pallor of death. But in the hour when the sacrifice was

thus accomplished on the altar, when riches and beauty were immolated to

save independence and faith, when these proud thoughts agitated men’s

hearts and made their presence known by a cry of agony or by words of

high-mindedness, a mysterious light shone forth, in the midst of the

darkness; liberty, morality, and the Gospel had appeared. Hopeful eyes

had seen a new edifice, radiant with immortal glory, rising above the

ruins of the old. The song then heard was not the song of death, but of

resurrection.

Footnote 637:

It was situated nearly on the spot where the Russian church now

stands.

Footnote 638:

Registre du Conseil du 18 Août, 1534. The expression in the Register

is much more energetic.

Footnote 639:

‘Ecclesia quam Sedeleuba regina in suburbano Genevensi

construxerat.’—Fredegarius, _Chron._ cap. xxii. La sœur Jeanne,

_Levain du Calvinisme_, p. 94.

Footnote 640:

‘Great suburbs at one time surrounded the city, not less beautiful

with churches and houses than with well-watered meadows and pleasant

gardens; which feasted the eyes and the heart still more.’ The lines

from which our extract is taken are in Gautier’s manuscript. He

ascribes them to an anonymous writer who had seen the suburbs.

Footnote 641:

Registre du Conseil des 11, 14, 16, et 19 Septembre, 1534. Gautier,

MS. La sœur Jeanne, _Levain du Calvinisme_, pp. 97, 98. MS. de

Turrettini; Berne, _Hist. Helvet._

Footnote 642:

Registre du Conseil des 21, 25 Septembre, 1534. La sœur Jeanne,

_Levain du Calvinisme_, pp. 97-100.

Footnote 643:

Registre du Conseil du 21 Septembre, 1534. The Gallatin family, after

serving this republic, furnished devoted citizens to the United

States. Abraham Albert Alphonse Gallatin, who emigrated to America at

the end of the eighteenth century, became Secretary of State.

Footnote 644:

Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 115. Registre du Conseil, 29

Septembre, 1534.

Footnote 645:

Procès Inquisitionnel de Baudichon de la Maisonneuve. MS. de Berne, p.

7.

Footnote 646:

Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, pp. 117, 118, 121, 174. Registre du

Conseil du 25 Septembre, 1534. Roset MS.

Footnote 647:

Par fraudes et pipées.

Footnote 648:

Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 115. Registre du Conseil du 25

Septembre, 1534. Gautier MS.

Footnote 649:

Froment, _Gestes_, p. 116.

Footnote 650:

La sœur de Sainte Claire, _Levain du Calvinisme_, p. 97.

Footnote 651:

Registre du 18 Septembre, 1534.

Footnote 652:

‘Die calendæ suæ.’—Registre du Conseil du 1er Octobre, 1534.

Footnote 653:

Registre du Conseil du 1er Octobre 1534. MS. de Gautier. MS. de Roset,

liv. iii. ch. xxix.

Footnote 654:

‘Episcoporum judicia et cunctorum majorum negotia causarum eidem

sanctæ sedi reservata esse liquet.’—Canon 12.

Footnote 655:

M. Guizot.

Footnote 656:

_Chron._ MS. de Roset, liv. iii. ch. xxix. MS. de Gautier.

Footnote 657:

Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 110. Registre du Conseil du 1er

Septembre, 1534.

Footnote 658:

Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, pp. 110, 111.

Footnote 659:

Ibid. p. 112.

Footnote 660:

‘Soutenir l’autorité de la sainte foy dans la ville de

Genève.’—Archives of the kingdom of Italy at Turin, bundle xiii. No.

19.

Footnote 661:

Archives of the kingdom of Italy at Turin, bundle xiii. No. 19.

Footnote 662:

‘Nuire et détruire Genève.’

Footnote 663:

Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 113. Registre du Conseil 1er, 13

Octobre, 1534. MSC. de Roset, liv. iii. ch. xxx.

Footnote 664:

Registre du Conseil des 28 Novembre, 3 Décembre, 1534, et 9 Mars,

1535. La sœur Jeanne, _Levain du Calvinisme_, pp. 100-104.

Footnote 665:

Registre du Conseil du 24 Décembre, 1534. La sœur Jeanne, _Levain du

Calvinisme_, p. 104.

Footnote 666:

MS. de Roset, liv. iii. ch. xx. Registre du Conseil des 5, 28 Janvier,

20 et 21 Février, 1535. MS. de Gautier.

Footnote 667:

Registre du Conseil des 29 Décembre, 1534; 8, 12, 15 Janvier, 1535.

Footnote 668:

‘My beauty attracted many suitors who sought to seduce me. When they

saw that their flattering could not make me faithless, they had

recourse to threats, and at last prepared to overcome me by force.

Then I, unwilling to set my beauty above my virtue, destroyed with

inflexible hand my temples, gardens, and houses, and converted them

into ramparts, to keep my insensate suitors at a distance. I destroyed

my beauty to preserve my honor. I was once Geneva the fair; now I am

called Geneva the valiant.’ These lines are preserved in Gautier’s

manuscript history.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE KING OF FRANCE INVITES MELANCTHON TO RESTORE UNITY AND TRUTH.

(END OF 1534 TO AUGUST 1535.)

While the work of the Reformation appeared exposed to great dangers in a

small city of the Alps, it had in the eyes of the optimists chances of

success in two of the greatest countries of Europe—France and Italy. The

two finest geniuses of the reform, Melancthon and Calvin, had been

summoned to those two countries respectively. Luther, their superior by

the movements of his heart and the simplicity of his faith, was inferior

to them as a theologian, and they probably surpassed him in their

capacity to comprehend in their thoughts all nations and all churches.

The first half of the sixteenth century was the epoch of a great

transformation to the people of Europe; there had been nothing like it

since the introduction of Christianity. During the middle ages, the pope

was the guardian of Christendom, and the people were infants, who, not

having attained the necessary age, could not act for themselves. The

pontificial hierarchy opened or shut the gates of heaven, laid down what

every man ought to believe and do, dominated in the councils of princes,

and exercised a powerful influence over all public institutions. But a

wardship is always provisional. When a man attains his majority, he

enters into the enjoyment of his property and rights, and having to

render an account to none but God, he walks without guardians by the

light which his conscience gives him. There is also a time of majority

for nations, and Christian society attained that age in the sixteenth

century. From that moment it ceased to receive blindly all that the

priests taught; it entered into a higher and more independent sphere.

The teaching of man vanished away; the teaching of God began again. Once

more those words were heard in Christendom which Paul of Tarsus had

uttered in the first century: ‘_I speak as to wise men; judge ye what I

say_.’[669] But it must be carefully observed that it was by throwing

open the Bible to their generation that the reformers realized this

sentence. If they had not restored a heavenly torch to man, if they had

left him to himself in the thick shadows of the night, he would have

remained blind, uneasy, restless, and unsatisfied. The holy emancipation

of the sixteenth century invited those who listened to it to draw freely

from the divine Word all that was necessary to scatter the darkness of

their reason and fill up the void in their hearts. Elevating them above

the goods of the body, above even arts, literature, science, and

philosophy, it offered to their soul eternal treasures—God himself. The

Gospel, then restored to the world, gave an unaccustomed force to the

moral law, and thus conferred on the people who received it two

boons,—order and liberty,—which the Vatican has never possessed within

its precincts.

[Sidenote: Alarm And Joy.]

All men, however, did not understand that the majority which each must

necessarily attain individually is at the same time essential to them

collectively, and that the Church in particular must inevitably attain

it. There were many, among those who were interested in the prosperity

of nations, who felt alarm at the abolition of the papal guardianship.

They saw that this stupendous act would work immense changes in the

sphere of the mind; that society as a whole, literature, social life,

politics, the relations of foreign countries with one another, would be

made new. This prospect, which was a subject of joy to the greater

number, excited the liveliest apprehensions in others. Those especially

who had not learnt that man, as a moral being, can only be led by free

convictions, imagined that all society would run wild and be lost if

that power was suppressed which had so long intimidated and restrained

it by the fear of excommunications and the stake. These men, alarmed at

the sight of the free and living waters of reform and wishing at any

cost to save the nations of Europe from the deluge which appeared to

threaten them, thought it their duty to confine them still more, to

restore, strengthen and raise the imperilled dikes, and thus keep the

stagnant waters in the foul canals where they had stood for ages.

Notwithstanding his liberal tendencies with regard to literature and the

arts, Francis I. was not exempt from these fears, and gave a helping

hand to a restoration,—often a cruel restoration of the Romish

jurisdiction. Henry VIII., of little interest as an individual, though

great as a king, and who was truly the father, predecessor, and

fore-runner of Elizabeth and her reign, even while striving

ineffectually to preserve the catholic doctrines in his realm, separated

it decisively from the papacy, and by so doing laid the foundations of

the liberty and greatness of England. Francis I., on the other hand,

maintained the papal supremacy in his dominions, and labored to restore

it in the countries where it had been abolished. In 1534 and 1535 we see

him making great exertions to that end, and finding numerous helpers to

back him up.

The idea of restoring unity in the Christian Church of the West, not

only engrossed the attention of those who were actuated by despotic

views, but also of noble-minded and liberal men. ‘By what means can we

succeed?’ they asked. The violent answered, ‘By force;’ but the wise

represented that Christian unity could not be brought about by the

sword. Those who were occupied with this great question determined to

examine whether they could not solve it by means of mutual concessions;

and they set about their task with different motives and in different

tempers. They formed three categories.

There existed at that time in all parts of Europe men of wit and

learning, children of the Renaissance, who disliked the superstitions

and abuses of Rome, as well as the bold doctrines and severe precepts of

the Reformation. They wanted a religion, but it must be an easy one, and

more in conformity (as they held) with reason. Between Luther and the

pope, they saw Erasmus, and that elegant and judicious writer was their

apostle: hence the Elector of Saxony called them Erasmians.[670] They

thought that by melting popery and protestantism together they might

realize their dreams.

In like manner, too, there were persons to be found of greater or less

eminence in whom the desire prevailed to maintain Europe in that papal

wardship which had lasted through all the middle ages: they feared the

most terrible convulsions if that supreme authority should come to an

end. At their head in France was the king. Francis I. had also a more

interested object: he desired, from political motives, to unite

protestants and catholics, because he had need of Rome in Italy to

recover his preponderance there, and of the protestants in Germany to

humble Charles V. To this class also belonged, to a greater or less

extent, William du Bellay, the king’s councillor and right hand in

diplomacy. So far as concerns doctrine, both were on the side of

Erasmus; but, in an ecclesiastical point of view, while the prince

inclined to a moderate papal dominion, the minister would have preferred

a still more liberal system.

[Sidenote: The Moderate Evangelicals.]

Finally, there were, particularly in Germany, a few evangelical

Christians who consented to accept the episcopalian form, and even the

primacy of a bishop, in the hope of obtaining the transformation of the

doctrine and manners of the universal Church. Melancthon at Wittemberg,

Bucer at Strasburg, and Professor Sturm at Paris, were the most eminent

men of this school. Melancthon went farther than his colleagues. He

believed that the great revolution then going on was salutary and even

necessary; but he would have liked to see it limited and directed.

Former ages had elaborated certain results which ought, in his opinion,

to be handed down to ages to come; and he imagined that if the pope

could be induced to receive the Gospel, that despot of old times might

still be useful to the Church. Another and a still more urgent interest

animated these pious men: it was necessary to rescue the victims of

fanaticism, to extinguish the burning piles. The bloody and solemn

executions which had taken place in Paris on the 21st of January, 1535,

in presence of the king and court, had excited an indescribable horror

everywhere. One might have imagined that those noble-hearted men foresaw

the miseries of France, the battle-fields running with blood, and the

night of St. Bartholomew with its murders ushered in by the death-knell

from the steeple of St. Germain l’Auxerrois; that they saw pass before

them those armies of fugitives whom the revocation of the Edict of

Nantes scattered over the wide world.

One common feature characterized all three classes. Those who composed

them were in general of an accommodating disposition, an easy manner,

ready to sacrifice some part of what they thought true, in order to

attain their end. But there were in Europe, on the side of Rome many

inflexible papists, and on the side of the Reformation many determined

protestants, who set truth above unity, and were resolved to do

everything ‘so that the talent which God had entrusted to them might not

be lost through their cowardice, or taken from them on account of their

ingratitude.’[671]

[Sidenote: Effects Of The Placards.]

The famous placards posted up in the capital and all over France on that

October night of 1534 had carried trouble into the hearts of the

peacemakers. They had seen, as they imagined, the torch suddenly applied

to the house in which they were quietly laboring to reconcile Rome and

the Reformation. ‘Such a seditious act agitates the whole kingdom, and

exposes us to the greatest dangers,’[672] wrote Sturm from Paris to

Melancthon. ‘The authors of those placards are men of a fanatical turn,

rebels who circulate pernicious sentiments, and who deserve

chastisement,’ wrote Melancthon to the Bishop of Paris. But at the same

time the most energetic of the German protestants, revolted by the

cruelty of Francis I., refused to join in union with a prince who burnt

their brethren. The King of France had formed the plan of a congress,

destined to restore peace to Christendom; but an imprudent hand had

applied the match to the mine, and the friends of peace were struck with

terror and confusion. From that moment there was nothing heard but

recriminations, reproaches, and altercations.

Francis I. saw clearly that, if his project was on the brink of failing,

the fault was due mainly to his own violence; he therefore undertook to

set straight the affairs he had so imprudently damaged. On the 1st

February, 1535, he wrote to the evangelical princes of the empire,

assuring them that there was no similarity between the German

protestants and the French _heretics_, his victims. The contriver of the

strappadoes of the 21st January, assumed a lofty tone, as if he were

innocence itself. ‘I am insulted in Germany,’ he said, ‘in every place

of assembly, and even at public banquets. It is said that people dressed

like Turks can walk freely about the streets of Paris, but that no one

dares appear there in German costume. People say that the Germans are

looked upon here as heretics, and are arrested, tortured, and put to

death. We think it our duty to reply to these calumnies. Just when we

were on the point of coming to an understanding with you, certain

mad-men endeavored to upset our work. I prefer to bury in darkness the

paradoxes they have put forth; I am loth to set them before you, most

illustrious princes, and thus display them in the sight of the

world.[673] I think it sufficient to say that even you would have

devoted them to execration. I wished to prevent the pestilence from

spreading over France, but not a single German was sent to prison.[674]

The men of your nation, princes and nobles, continue to be graciously

received at my court; and as for the German students, merchants, and

artisans who work in my kingdom, I treat them like my other subjects,

and, I may say, like my own children.’ The letter produced some little

effect, and there was a reaction on the other side of the Rhine.

Melancthon resumed his schemes of reunion.

But a new change then occurred: suddenly, and with greater violence than

ever, new difficulties arose, which threatened to make shipwreck of the

whole business. Francis I. had caused the conciliatory opinions of

Melancthon, Hedio, and Bucer to be circulated in Germany.[675] Some

unwise and by no means upright adherents of catholicism mutilated and

abridged those opinions,[676] and then proclaimed with an air of triumph

that the heretics, with Melancthon at their head, were about to return

into the bosom of the Church!... Excessive was the irritation of the

evangelical flocks, and loud cries arose from every quarter against the

temporizers and their weakness. They called to mind that truth is not a

merchandise which can be cheapened; but a chain, of which if but one

link be broken, all the rest is useless. ‘Melancthon is of opinion,’

said some, ‘that a single pontiff, residing at Rome, would be very

useful to maintain harmony of faith between the different nations of

Christendom. Bucer adds that we must not overthrow all that exists in

popery, but restore in the protestant churches many of the practices

observed by the ancients. The men who speak thus are deserters and

turncoats. They betray our cause, they commit a crime.’[677] If such

protestants as these were heard among the Lutherans, doctors such as

Farel and Calvin spoke out still more plainly against all attempts at a

union with popery. ‘It is wrong,’ wrote Calvin afterwards to some

English friends, ‘to preserve such paltry rubbish, the sad relics of

papal superstition, every recollection of which we ought to strive to

extirpate.’[678] The thought that Francis I. was at the head of these

negotiations filled the Swiss theologians in particular with ineffable

disgust. ‘What good can be expected of that prince,’ said Bullinger,

‘that impure, profane, ambitious man?[679] He is dissembling: Christ and

truth are of no account in his projects. His only thought is how to gain

possession of Naples and Milan. What does this or that matter, so that

he makes himself master of Italy?’ These honest Swiss were not wanting

in common sense. Alarmed at the trap that was preparing for Reform,

Bullinger, Blaarer, Zwyck, and other reformed divines wrote to Bucer:

‘It is of no use your contriving a reunion with the pope; thousands of

protestants would rather forfeit their lives than follow you.’

At the same time the Sorbonne and its followers raised their voices

still higher against all assimilation with Lutheran doctrines. The storm

swelled on both sides, and burst upon the moderate party. Poor Bucer,

driven in different directions, succumbed under the weight of his

sorrow. ‘Would to God,’ he exclaimed, ‘that, like the French martyrs, I

were delivered from this life to stand before the face of Jesus

Christ!’[680]

[Sidenote: Hope Of Union Lost.]

Every hope of union seemed lost. The ship which the politic King of

France had launched, and to which the hand of the pious Melancthon had

fastened the banners of peace, had been carried upon the breakers; all

attempts to get her out to sea again appeared useless; there was neither

water enough to float her, nor wind enough to move her. She was about to

be abandoned, when a sudden breeze extricated her from the shallows, and

launched her once more upon the wide ocean.

Clement VII. having died of chagrin, occasioned by the prospect of a

future in which he could see nothing but deception and sorrow,[681] the

King of France considered himself thenceforward liberated from the

promises made to Catherine’s uncle. Ere long the choice of the Sacred

College gave him still greater liberty. Alexander Farnese, who, under

the title of Paul III., succeeded Clement, was a man of the world; he

had studied at Florence in the famous gardens of Lorenzo de’ Medici, and

from his youth had lived an irregular life. On one occasion, being

imprisoned by his mother’s orders in the castle of St. Angelo, he took

advantage of the moment when the attention of his jailers was attracted

by the procession of Corpus Christi to escape through a window by means

of a rope. Although he had two illegitimate children, a son and a

daughter, he was made cardinal, and from that hour kept his eyes

steadily fixed upon the triple crown. He obtained it at last, at the age

of sixty-seven, and declared that in religious matters he would follow

very different principles from those of his predecessors. This man, who

had so much need of reformation for himself and his family, was

engrossed wholly with reforming the Church. We shall find not only a

king of France, but a pope of Rome also, making advances to Melancthon.

Leo X. bequeathed schism to Christendom. Paul III. undertook to restore

unity, and thus hoped to acquire a greater glory than that of the

Medicis. He promised the ambassadors of Charles V. to call a council,

and four days after his election declared his intentions in full

consistory. ‘I desire a reform,’ he said; ‘before we attempt to change

the universal Church, we must first sweep out the court of Rome;’ and he

nominated a congregation to draw up a plan of reform. Proud of his

skill, he thought that everything would be easy to him, and already

triumphed in imagination over the Germans, who were, in his opinion, so

boorish, and the Swiss, who were so barbarous. Francis I., satisfied

with this disposition of the pope, was not unaware, besides, that he had

private means of communicating with him. The first secretary of his

Holiness was Ambrosio, an influential man and by no means averse to

presents. A person who had need of his services having given him sixty

silver basins with as many ewers, ‘How is it,’ said a man one day, ‘that

with all these basins to wash in, his hands are never clean?’[682]

[Sidenote: Popery In France.]

But the work of union was not to be so easy as the conjunction of two

such stars as Farnese and Valois seemed to promise. While the Romish

Church was being toned down at Rome, popery became stricter in France.

The fanatical party that was to acquire a horrible celebrity by the

crimes of the Bartholomew massacre and of the League, was beginning to

take shape round the dauphin, the future Henry II. That youth of

eighteen, who had not long returned from Madrid, was far from being

lively, talkative, and independent, like a young Frenchman, but gloomy

and silent, and appeared to live only to obey women. There were two at

his side, admirably calculated to give him a papistical direction:

first, his wife, Catherine de Medicis, and next his mistress, Diana of

Poitiers, a widow, still beautiful in spite of her age, and who would

not (as it has been said) have spoken to a heretic for an empire. The

mistress and the wife, who were on the best of terms, and all of the

dauphin’s party, endeavored to thwart the king’s plans. The most

influential members of that faction were continually repeating to him

that the protestants of Germany were quite as fanatical and seditious as

those of France. At the same time, the emperor’s agents, animated by the

same intentions, told the German protestants that Francis I. was an

infidel in alliance with the Turks. The obstacles opposed in France and

Germany to the reconciliation of Christendom were such that its

realization appeared a matter of difficulty.

But in the midst of these intrigues the moderate party held firm. The Du

Bellays belonged to one of the oldest families in France; their nobility

could be traced back to the reign of Lothaire,[683] and their mother,

Margaret de la Tour-Landry, reckoned among her ancestors a man who had

occupied himself with laying down the rules of a good education. After a

life of busy warfare, the Chevalier de la Tour-Landry, seignior of

Bourmont and Claremont, who lived in the fourteenth century, wrote two

works on education: one for his sons, the other for his daughters,

copies of which became numerous. The treatise intended for the girls was

printed in 1514, perhaps by the direction of the parents of the Du

Bellays. ‘Out of the great affection I bear to my children,’ wrote the

old cavalier, ‘whom I love as a father ought to love them, my heart will

be filled with perfect joy if they grow up good and honorable, loving

and serving God.’[684] William and John particularly seemed to have

responded to this prayer. William, the elder, was not void of Christian

sentiments. ‘I desire,’ he said, ‘that nothing may happen injurious to

the cause of the Gospel and the glory of Christ;’[685] but he was

specially one of the most distinguished generals and diplomatists of his

epoch. He knew, says Brantome, the most private secrets of the emperor

and of all the princes of Europe, so that people supposed him to have a

familiar spirit. Although maimed in his limbs—the consequence of his

campaigns—he was a man of indefatigable activity. His brother John,

Bishop of Paris, who was also ‘another master-mind,’ professed like him

an enlightened catholicism; and hence it happened that on the accession

of Henry II. he was deprived of his rank by the intrigues of the papist

party, and driven from France. Still, to show that he remained a

catholic, he took up his residence in Rome.

[Sidenote: Melancthon’s Position.]

In 1535 the moderate catholic party, at the head of which were these two

brothers, seeing the chances of success at Rome as well as at Paris,

resolved to take a more decided step, and to invite Melancthon to

France. The proposal was made to Francis I., and supported by all the

members of the party. They knew that Melancthon was called ‘the master

of Germany,’ and thought that if he came to France he would conciliate

all parties by the culture of his mind, by his learning, wisdom, piety,

and gentleness. One man, if he appears at the right moment, is sometimes

sufficient to give a new direction to an entire epoch, to a whole

nation. ‘Ah, sire,’ said Barnabas Voré de la Fosse, a learned and

zealous French nobleman, who knew Germany well, and had tasted of the

Gospel, ‘if you knew Melancthon, his uprightness, learning, and modesty!

I am his disciple, and fear not to tell it you. Of all those who in our

days have the reputation of learning, and who deserve it, he is the

foremost.’[686]

These advances were not useless: Francis I. thought the priests very

arrogant and noisy. His despotism made him incline to the side of the

pope; but his love of letters, and his disgust at the monks, attracted

him the other way. Just now he thought it possible to satisfy both these

inclinations at once. Fully occupied with the effect of the moment, and

inattentive to consequences, he passed rapidly from one extreme to

another. At Marseilles he had thrown himself into the arms of Clement

VII., now he made up his mind to hold out his hand to Melancthon.

‘Well!’ said the king, ‘since he differs so much from our rebels, let

him come: I shall be enchanted to hear him.’ This gave great delight to

the peacemakers. ‘God has seen the affliction of his children and heard

their cries,’ exclaimed Sturm.[687] Francis I. ordered De la Fosse to

proceed to Germany to urge Melancthon in person.

A king of France inviting a reformer to come and explain his views was

something very new. The two principal obstacles which impeded the

Reformation seemed now to be removed. The first was the character of the

reformers in France, the exclusive firmness of their doctrines, and the

strictness of their morality. Melancthon, the mild, the wise, the

tolerant, the learned scholar, was to attempt the task. The second

obstacle was the fickleness and opposition of Francis I.; but it was

this prince who made the advances. There are hours of grace in the

history of the human race, and one of those hours seemed to have

arrived. ‘God, who rules the tempests,’ exclaimed Sturm, ‘is showing us

a harbor of refuge.’[688]

[Sidenote: Efforts Of The Mediators.]

The friends of the Gospel and of light set earnestly to work. It was

necessary to persuade Melancthon, the Elector, and the protestants of

Germany, which might be a task of some difficulty. But the mediators did

not shrink from before obstacles; they raised powerful batteries; they

stretched the strings of their bow, and made a great effort to carry the

fortress. Sturm, in particular, spared no exertions. The free courses he

was giving at the Royal College, his lectures on Cicero, his logic,

which, instead of preparing his disciples (among whom was Peter Ramus)

for barren disputes, developed and adorned their minds—nothing could

stop him. Sturm was not only an enlightened man, a humanist,

appreciating the Beautiful in the productions of genius, but he had a

deep feeling of the divine grandeur of the Gospel. Men of letters in

those times, especially in Italy, were often negative in regard to the

things of God, light in their conduct, without moral force, and

consequently incapable of exercising a salutary influence over their

contemporaries. Such was not Sturm: and while those _beaux-esprits_,

those wits were making a useless display of their brilliant intelligence

in drawing-rooms, that eminent man exhibited a Christian faith and life:

he busied himself in the cultivation of all that is most exalted, and

during his long career, never ceased from enlightening his

contemporaries.[689] ‘The future of French protestantism is in your

hands,’ he wrote to Bucer; ‘Melancthon’s answer and yours will decide

whether the evangelicals are to enjoy liberty, or undergo the most cruel

persecutions. When I see Francis I. meditating the revival of the

Church, I recognize God, who inclines the hearts of princes. I do not

doubt his sincerity; I see no hidden designs, no political motives;

although a German by birth, I do not share my fellow-countrymen’s

suspicions about him. The king, I am convinced, wishes to do all he can

to reform the Church, and to give liberty of conscience to the

French.’[690] Such was, then, the hope of the most generous spirits—such

the aim of their labors.

Sturm, wishing to do everything in his power to give France that liberty

and reformation, wrote personally to Melancthon. He was the man to be

gained, and the professor set his heart upon gaining him. ‘How delighted

I am at the thought that you will come to France!’ he said. ‘The king

talks much about you; he praises your integrity, learning, and modesty;

he ranks you above all the scholars of our time, and has declared that

he is _your disciple_.[691] I shed tears when I think of the devouring

flames that have consumed so many noble lives; but when I learn that the

king invites you to advise with him as to the means of extinguishing

those fires, then I feel that God is turning his eyes with love upon the

souls who are threatened with unutterable calamities. What a strange

thing! France appeals to you at the very time when our cause is so

fiercely attacked. The king, who is of a good disposition at bottom,

perceives so many defects in the old cause, and such imprudence in those

who adhere to the truth, that he applies to you to find a remedy for

these evils. O Melancthon! to see your face will be our salvation. Come

into the midst of our violent tempests, and show us the haven. A refusal

from you would keep our brethren suspended above the flames. Trouble

yourself neither about emperors nor kings: those who invite you are men

who are fighting against death. But they are not alone: the voice of

Christ, nay, the voice of God himself calls you.’[692] The letter is

dated from Paris, 4th March, 1535.

The Holy Scriptures, which were read wherever the Reform had penetrated,

had revived in men’s hearts feelings of real unity and Christian

charity. Such cries of distress could not fail to touch the protestants

of Germany; Bucer, who had also been invited, made preparations for his

departure. ‘The French, Germans, Italians, Spaniards, and other nations,

who are they?’[693] he asked. ‘All our brethren in Jesus Christ. It is

not this nation or that nation only, but all nations that the Father has

given to the Son. I am ready,’ he wrote to Melancthon; ‘prepare for your

departure.’

[Sidenote: Importance Of France.]

What could Melancthon do? that was the great question. Many persons,

even in Germany, had hoped that France would put herself at the head of

the great revival of the Church. Had not her kings, and especially Louis

XII., often resisted Rome? Had not the university of Paris been the

rival of the Vatican? Was it not a Frenchman who, cross in hand, had

roused the West to march to the conquest of Jerusalem? Many believed

that if France were transformed, all Christendom would be transformed

with her. To a certain point, Melancthon had shared these ideas, but he

was less eager than Bucer. The outspoken language of the placards had

shocked him; but the burning piles erected in Paris had afterwards

revolted him; he feared that the king’s plans were a mere trick, and his

reform a phantom. Nevertheless, after reflecting upon the matter, he

concluded that the conquest of such a mighty nation was a thing of

supreme importance. His adhesion to the regenerating movement then

accomplishing might decide its success, just as his hostility might

destroy it. He must do something more than open his arms to France, he

must go to meet her.

Melancthon understood the position and set to work. First, he wrote to

the Bishop of Paris, in order to gain him over to the proposed union, by

representing to him that the episcopal order ought to be maintained. The

German doctor did not doubt that even under that form, the increasing

consciousness of truth and justice, the living force of the Gospel,

which was seen opening and increasing everywhere, would gain over to the

Reformation the fellow-countrymen of St. Bernard and St. Louis. ‘France

is, so to speak, the head of the Christian world,’ he wrote to the

Bishop of Paris.[694] ‘The example of the most eminent people may

exercise a great influence over others. If France is resolved to defend

energetically the existing vices of the Church, good men of all

countries will see their fondest desires vanish. But I have better

hopes; the French nation possesses, I know, a remarkable zeal for

piety.[695] All men turn their eyes to us; all conjure us, not only by

their words, but by their tears, to prevent sound learning from being

stifled, and Christ’s glory from being buried.’

On the same day, 9th of May, 1535, Melancthon wrote to Sturm: ‘I will

not suffer myself to be prevented either by domestic ties or the fear of

danger. There is no human grandeur which I can prefer to the glory of

Christ. Only one thought checks me: I doubt of my ability to do any

good; I fear it will be impossible to obtain from the king what I

consider necessary to the glory of the Lord and the peace of

France.[696] If you can dispel these apprehensions, I shall hasten to

France, and no prison shall affright me. We must seek only for what is

fitting for the Church and France. You know that kingdom. Speak. If you

think I should do well to undertake the journey, I will start.’

Melancthon’s letter to the Bishop of Paris was not without effect. That

prelate had just been made a cardinal; but the new dignity in nowise

diminished his desire for the restoration of truth and unity in the

Church; on the contrary, it gave him more power to realize the great

project. The Reformation was approaching. Delighted with the sentiments

expressed to him by the _master_ of Germany, he communicated his letter

to such as might feel an interest in it, and among others, no doubt, to

the king. ‘There is not one of our friends here,’ he said, ‘to whom

Melancthon’s mode of seeing things is not agreeable. As for myself, it

is pleasant far beyond what I can express.’[697] It was the same with

his brother William. While the new cardinal especially desired a union

with Melancthon in the hope of obtaining a wise and pious reform, the

councillor of Francis I. desired, while leaving to the pope his

spiritual authority, to make France politically independent of Rome. The

two brothers united in entreating the king to send for Luther’s friend.

De la Fosse joined them, and all the friends of peace, in conjuring the

king to give the German doctor some proof of his good-will. ‘He will

come if you write to him,’ they said.

[Sidenote: Letter Of The King.]

Francis I. made up his mind, and instead of addressing the sovereign

whose subject Melancthon was, the proud king of France wrote to the

plain doctor of Wittemberg. This was not quite regular; had the monarch

written to the elector, such a step might have produced very beneficial

results; not so much because the susceptibility of the latter prince

would not have been wounded, as because the reasons which Francis, with

Du Bellay’s help, might have given him, would perhaps have convinced a

ruler so friendly to the Gospel and to peace as John Frederick. It is

sometimes useful to observe the rules of diplomacy. This is the letter

from the King of France to the learned doctor, dated 23d of June, 1535.

‘Francis, by the grace of God King of the French, to our dear Philip

Melancthon, greeting:

‘I have long since been informed by William du Bellay, my

chamberlain and councillor, of the zeal with which you are

endeavoring to appease the dissensions to which the Christian

doctrine has given rise. I now learn from the letter which you have

written to him, and from Voré de la Fosse, that you are much

inclined to come to us, to confer with some of our most

distinguished doctors on the means of restoring in the Church that

divine harmony which is the first of all my desires.[698] Come then,

either in an official character, or in your own name; you will be

very acceptable to me, and you will learn, in either case, the

interest I feel in the glory of your Germany and the peace of the

universe.’

These declarations from the King of France forwarded the enterprise;

before taking such a step, he must have been very clear in his

intentions. We may well ask, however, if the letter was sincere. In

history, as in nature, there are striking contrasts. While these things

were passing in the upper regions of society, scenes were occurring in

the lower regions which ran counter to those fine projects of princes

and scholars. The Swiss divines maintained that the whole affair was a

comedy in which the king and his ministers played the chief parts. That

may be questionable, but the interlude was a blood-stained tragedy. In

the very month when Francis I. wrote to Melancthon, a poor husbandman of

La Bresse, John Cornon, was arrested while at work in the fields, and

taken to Macon. The judges, who expected to see an idiot appear before

them, were astonished when they heard that poor peasant proving to them,

in his simple _patois_, the truth of his faith, and displaying an

extensive knowledge of Holy Scripture. As the pious husbandman remained

unshaken in his attachment to the all-sufficient grace of Jesus Christ,

he was condemned to death, dragged on a hurdle to the place of

execution, and there burnt alive.[699]

In the following month of July, Dennis Brion, a humble barber of

Sancerre, near Paris, and a reputed heretic, was taken in his shop. He

had often expounded the Scriptures, not only to those who visited him,

but also to a number of persons who assembled to hear him. Nothing

annoyed the priests so much as these meetings, where simple Christians,

speaking in succession, bore testimony to the light and consolation they

had found in the Bible. Brion was condemned, as the husbandman of La

Bresse had been, and his death was made a great show. It was the time of

the _grands jours_ at Angers; and there he was burnt alive, in the midst

of an immense concourse of people from every quarter.[700] It is

probable that those executions were not the result of any new orders,

but a mere sequel to the cruelties of the 21st of January, the influence

of which had only then reached the provinces.

These two executions, however, made the necessity of laboring to restore

peace and unity still more keenly felt. Those engaged in the task saw

but one means: to admit on one side the evangelical doctrine, and on the

other the episcopal form with a bishop _primus inter pares_. Western

Christendom would thus have a protestant body with a Roman dress. The

Church of the Reformation (it was said) holds to doctrine before all

things, and the Church of Rome to its government; let us unite the two

elements. The Wittemberg doctors hoped that the substance would prevail

over the form; the Roman doctors that the form would prevail over the

substance; but many on both sides honestly believed that the proposed

combination would succeed and be perpetual.

[Sidenote: Du Bellay Goes To Rome.]

At the same time as De la Fosse started for Wittemberg, the new

cardinal, Du Bellay, departed for Rome: two French embassies were to be

simultaneously in the two rival cities. The ostensible object of the

cardinal’s journey was not the great matter which the king had at heart,

but to thank the pope for the dignity conferred upon him; still it was

the intention and the charge of the Bishop of Paris to do all in his

power to induce the catholic Church to come to an understanding with the

protestants. Before quitting France, he wrote to Melancthon: ‘There is

nothing I desire more earnestly than to put an end to the divisions

which are shaking the Church of Christ. My dear Melancthon, do all you

can to bring about this happy pacification.[701] If you come here, you

will have all good men with you, and especially the king, who is not

only in name, but in reality, _most Christian_. When you have conferred

with him thoroughly, which will be soon, I trust, there is nothing that

we may not hope for. God grant that at Rome, whither I am going with all

speed, I may obtain, in behalf of the work I meditate, all the success

that I desire.’[702]

The cardinal’s journey was of great importance. The party to which he

belonged, which desired one sole Catholic Church, in which evangelical

doctrines and Romish forms should be skilfully combined, was acquiring

favor in the metropolis of catholicism. The new pope raised to the

cardinalate Contarini and several other prelates who were known for

their evangelical sentiments and the purity of their lives. He left them

entire liberty; he permitted them to contradict him in the consistory,

and even encouraged them to do so. The hope of a reform grew greater day

by day in Italy.[703] It thus happened that Cardinal du Bellay found

himself in a very favorable atmosphere at Rome: he would be backed by

the influence of France, and to a certain point by the imperial

influence also, for no one desired more strongly than Charles V. an

arrangement between catholics and protestants. The Bishop of Paris, an

enlightened and skilful diplomatist and pious man, had a noble

appearance, and displayed in every act the mark of a great soul.[704] He

thus won men’s hearts, and might, in concert with Melancthon, be the

chosen instrument to establish the so much desired unity in the Church.

[Sidenote: Du Bellay To Melancthon.]

While he was on his way to confer with the pope and cardinals, others

were canvassing Melancthon and the protestants. De la Fosse left for

Wittemberg, bearing the king’s letter, and William du Bellay, an

intelligent statesman, who was determined to spare no pains to bring the

great scheme to a successful issue, wrote to the German doctor,

explaining motives and removing objections. In his eyes the cause in

question was the greatest of all: it was the cause of religion and of

France. ‘Let us beware,’ wrote the councillor of Francis I. to

Melancthon, ‘let us beware of irritating the king, whose favor you will

confess is necessary to us. If, after he has written to you with his own

hand, after you have almost given your consent, after he has sent you a

deputation, in whose company you could make the journey without

danger,—if you finally refuse to come to France, I much fear that the

monarch will not look upon it with a favorable eye. It is necessary both

to France and religion that you comply with the king’s request.[705]

Fear not the influence of the wicked, who cannot endure to be deprived

of anything in order that the glory of Jesus Christ should be

increased.[706] The king is skilful, prudent, yielding, and allows

himself to be convinced by sound reasons. If you have an interview with

him, if you talk with him, if you set your motives before him, you will

inflame him with an admirable zeal for your cause.[707] Do not think you

will have to dissemble or give way.... No; the king will praise your

courage in such serious matters more than he would praise your weakness.

I therefore exhort and conjure you in Christ’s name not to miss the

opportunity of doing the noblest of all the works which it is possible

to perform among men.’

As we read these important letters, these touching solicitations, and

the firm opinions of the councillor of Francis I., we are tempted to

inquire what is their date. Is it in reality only five months after the

strappadoes? One circumstance explains the startling contrast. France

might say: ‘I feel two natures in me.’ Which of them shall prevail? That

is the question. Will it be the intelligence, frankness, love of

liberty, and presentiment of the moral responsibility of man, which are

often found in the French people; or the incredulity, superstition,

sensuality, cruelty, and despotism, of which Catherine de Medicis, her

husband, and her sons were the types? Shall we see a people, eager for

liberty, submitting in religious things to the yoke of a Church which

never allows any independence to individual thought? Strange to say, the

solution of this important question seemed to depend upon a reformer.

Should Melancthon come to France, he would, in the opinion of the Du

Bellays and the best intellects of the age, inaugurate with God’s help

in that illustrious country the reign of the Gospel and liberty, and put

an end to the usurpations of Rome.

If the great enterprise at which some of the greatest and most powerful

personages were then working succeeded, if the tendency of Catherine and

her sons (continued unfortunately by the Bourbons) were overcome, France

was saved. It was a solemn opportunity. Never, perhaps, had that great

nation been nearer the most important transformation.

In addition to the appeals of Du Bellay, no means were spared to

persuade Germany. Sturm wrote another letter to the Wittemberg doctor,

telling him that the king was not very far from sharing the religious

ideas of the protestants, and that, if his views were laid clearly and

fearlessly before him, the reformer would find that the sovereign agreed

with him on many important points. And more than this, Claude Baduel,

who, after studying at Wittemberg, was in succession professor at Paris,

rector at Nismes, and pastor at Geneva, was intrusted by the Queen of

Navarre with a mission to Melancthon. Francis I., wishing to pass from

words to deeds, published an amnesty on the 16th July, 1535, in which he

declared that ‘the anger of our Lord being appeased, persons accused or

suspected should not be molested, that all prisoners should be set at

liberty, their confiscated goods restored, and the fugitives permitted

to re-enter the kingdom, provided they lived as good catholic

Christians.’[708]

As Francis I. did not wish to alarm the court of Rome, and desired to

prevent it from interfering and seeking to disturb and thwart his plans,

he called Cardinal du Bellay to him a short time before his departure,

and said: ‘You will give the Holy Father to understand that I am sending

your brother to the protestants of Germany to get what he can from them;

at the very least to prevail on them to acknowledge the power of the

pope as head of the Church universal. With regard to faith, religion,

ceremonies, institutions, and doctrines, he will preserve such as it

will be proper to preserve,—at least, what may reasonably be tolerated,

while waiting the decision of the council.... Matters being thus

arranged, our Holy Father will then be able earnestly and joyfully to

summon a council to meet at Rome, and his authority will remain sure and

flourishing; for, if the enemies of the Holy See once draw in their

horns in Germany, they will do the same in France, Italy, England,

Scotland, and Denmark.’[709]

The opinions of Francis I. come out clearly in these instructions. The

only thing he cared about was the preservation of the pope’s temporal

power. As for religion, ceremonies, and doctrines, he would try to come

to an understanding,—he would get what he could; but the protestants

must pull in their horns,—must renounce their independent bearing. The

king declared himself satisfied, provided the people of Europe continued

to walk beneath the Caudine forks of Romish power.

[Sidenote: Conference With The Reformers.]

It was not long before the king showed what were his real intentions,

and towards what kind of reconciliation a council would have to labor,

if one should ever be assembled, which was very doubtful. On the 20th

July, the Bishop of Senlis, his confessor, requested the Sorbonne to

nominate ten or twelve of its theologians to confer with the reformers.

If a bombshell had fallen in the midst of the Faculty, it could not have

caused greater alarm. ‘What an unprecedented proposal!’ exclaimed the

doctors; ‘is it a jest or an insult?’ For two days they remained in

deliberation. ‘We will nominate deputies,’ said the assembly, ‘but for

the purpose of remonstrating with the king.’ ‘Sire,’ boldly said these

delegates, ‘your proposal is quite useless and supremely dangerous.

Useless, for the heretics will hear of nothing but Holy Scripture;

dangerous, for the catholics, who are weak in faith, may be perverted by

the objections of the heretic.... Let the Germans communicate to us the

articles on which they have need of instruction, we will give it them

willingly; but there can be no discussion with heretics. If we meet

them, it can only be as their judges. It is a divine and a human law to

cut off the corrupted members from the body. If such is the duty of the

State against assassins, much more is it their duty against schismatics

who destroy souls by their rebellion.’[710]

These different movements did not take place in secret; they were talked

about all over the city, and far beyond it. Enlightened minds were much

amused by the fear which the doctors of the Sorbonne had of speaking.

There was no lack of remarks on that subject. ‘We must not chatter and

babble overmuch about the Gospel; but it is absurd that, when anybody

inquires into our faith, we should say nothing in defence of it. Let us

discourse about the mysteries of God peaceably and mildly: to be silent

is a supineness and cowardice worthy of the sneers of unbelievers.’[711]

When Marot the poet heard of the answer of the Sorbonne, he said:—

Je ne dis pas que Mélancthon

Ne déclare au roi son advis;

Mais de disputer vis-à-vis ...

Nos maîtres n’y veulent entendre.

The politicians were not silent. The prospect of an agreement with the

protestants deeply moved the chiefs of the Roman party, who resolved to

do all in their power to oppose the attempt. Montmorency, the grand

master, the Cardinal de Tournon, the Bishop of Soissons, de

Chateaubriand, and others exerted all their influence to prevent

Melancthon from coming to France, Cardinal du Bellay from succeeding at

Rome, and catholics and protestants from shaking hands together under

the auspices of Francis I.

This fanatical party, which was to make common cause with the Jesuits,

already forestalled them in cunning. ‘One morning,’, say Roman-catholic

historians,[712] ‘Cardinal de Tournon appeared at the king’s _levée_,

reading a book magnificently bound.’ ‘Cardinal, what a handsome book you

have there!’ said the king. ‘Sire,’ replied De Tournon, ‘it is the work

of an illustrious martyr, Saint Irenæus, who presided over the Church of

Lyons in the second century. I was reading the passage which says that

John the Evangelist, being about to enter some public baths, and

learning that the heretic Cerinthus was inside, hastily retired,

exclaiming: “Let us fly, my children, lest we be swallowed up with the

enemies of the Lord.” That is what the apostles thought of heretics; and

yet you, Sire, the eldest son of the Church, intend inviting to your

court the most celebrated disciple of that arch-heretic Luther.’ De

Tournon added that an alliance with the Lutherans would not only cause

Milan to be lost to France, but would throw all the catholic powers into

the arms of the emperor.[713] Francis I., though persisting in his

scheme, saw that he could not force those to speak who had made up their

minds to be silent; and wishing to give De Tournon some little

satisfaction he let the Faculty know that he would not ask them to

confer with the reformers. The king intended to hear both parties; he

sought to place himself between the two stormy seas, like a quiet

channel, which communicates with both oceans, and in which it was

possible to manœuvre undisturbed by tempests.

[Sidenote: Is A Mixed Congress Possible?]

The refusal of the Sorbonne, at that time more papistical than the pope

himself, does not imply that a conference between protestant and

catholic theologians was impossible; for six years later such a

conference really did take place at Ratisbon, and nearly succeeded. A

committee, half protestant, half Romanist, in which Melancthon and Bucer

sat, and in which the pious Cardinal Contarini took part as papal

legate, admitted the evangelical faith in all essential points, and

declared in particular that man is justified not by his own merits, but

by faith alone in the merits of Christ, pointing out, however, as the

protestants had always done, that the faith which justifies must _work

by love_. That meeting of Ratisbon came to nothing: it could come to

nothing. A gleam of light shone forth, but a breath from Rome

extinguished the torch, and Contarini submitted in silence. The

conference, however, remains in history as a solemn homage, paid by the

most believing members of the Roman-catholic Church to the Christian

doctrines of the Reformation.[714]

Footnote 669:

1 Corinth. x. 15.

Footnote 670:

‘Die Leute die die Sache fordern, mehr Erasmich als Evangelisch

sind.’—Bretschneider, _Corpus Reformatorum_, ii. p. 909.

Footnote 671:

Calvin.

Footnote 672:

‘Stultissimis et seditiosissimis rationibus regna et gentes

perturbarunt.’—_Corp. Ref._ ii. p. 855.

Footnote 673:

‘Quorum ego paradoxa malo iisdem sepelire tenebris, unde subito

emerserant, quam apud vos, amplissimi ordines, hoc est, in orbis

terrarum luce memorari.’ In the _Corpus Reformatorum_, ii. pp.

828-835, Bretschneider gives only the German translation of this

letter. The original Latin, whose existence we were ignorant of when

our third volume was published, will be found in Freheri _Script.

Rerum German._ iii. p. 295.

Footnote 674:

It appears certain that some Germans were imprisoned; but they were

afterwards released and sent back to Germany by the king’s

order.—_Corpus Reformatorum_, ii. p. 857.

Footnote 675:

For these opinions see _supra_, vol. ii. p. 353.

Footnote 676:

‘Mutilati et excerpti . . . . . . mala fide decerpti.’—_Corpus

Reformatorum_, ii. p. 976.

Footnote 677:

‘Vocor transfuga, desertor . . . . me totam causam

prodidisse.’—Melancthon to Du Bellay. _Corpus Reform._ ii. p. 915.

Footnote 678:

‘C’est un vice d’entretenir des menus fatras.’—Calvin, _Lettres

Françaises_, i. p. 420.

Footnote 679:

‘De Gallo, homine impuro, profano et ambitioso.’—Bullinger to

Myconius, 12 March, 1534. _Corp. Ref._ p. 122.

Footnote 680:

‘Ego velim . . . . cum Gallis martyribus Christum adire.’—Bucer,

_Zeitschrift für Hist. Theol._ 1850, p. 44.

Footnote 681:

‘E fu questo dolore ed affanno che lo condusse alla morte.’—Soriano,

in Ranke, i. p. 127.

Footnote 682:

Warchi, _Istorie Fiorentine_, p. 636. Ranke.

Footnote 683:

Moreri, art. _Du Bellay_.

Footnote 684:

_Livre du Chevalier de la Tour-Landry qui fut fait pour l’enseignement

des femmes mariées et à marier._ It was reprinted in 1854 by Jannet,

in the ‘Bibliothèque Elzevirienne.’ There are seven manuscript copies

in the Bibliothèque Impériale. See also Burnier, _Histoire Littéraire

de l’Education_, i. p. 11.

Footnote 685:

‘Quod Evangelii causam et Christi gloriam perturbaret.’—_Corp. Ref._

ii. p. 887.

Footnote 686:

‘Cum rege diu de te locutus est, ita ut te omnibus, qui nostris

temporibus docti et habentur et sunt, prætulerit.’—_Corp. Ref._ ii. p.

857.

Footnote 687:

‘Sentio respici a Deo calamitatibus affectas et afflictas hominum

conditiones.’—_Corpus Reformatorum_, ii. p. 858.

Footnote 688:

‘Deus portum aliquem profugium ostendit.’—_Ibid._ p. 856.

Footnote 689:

See Schmidt’s _Vie de Jean Sturm, premier recteur de Strasbourg_.

Footnote 690:

‘Da Franz i. aüf Erneürung der Kirche sinne . . . . bereit sei zur

Kirchenverbesserung, das seine zu thun, und die Gevissen frei zu

lassen.’—Sturm to Bucer. Schmidt, _Zeitschrift für die Hist. Theol._

1850, i. p. 46. Strobel, _Hist. du Gymnase de Strasbourg_, p. 111 &c.

Footnote 691:

‘Non rogatus se discipulum tuum esse dixit.’—_Corpus Reformatorum_,

ii. p. 857.

Footnote 692:

‘Sed advocari te Dei Christique voce.’—_Corp. Ref._ ii. p. 859.

Footnote 693:

‘Qui sunt Germani, qui Itali, qui Hispani et alii?’—Schmidt,

_Zeitschr. für Hist. Theol._ 1850, p. 47.

Footnote 694:

‘Cum regnum gallicum, si licet dicere, caput christiani orbis

sit.’—_Corpus Reformatorum_, ii. p. 869.

Footnote 695:

‘Gallica natio eximium habet pietatis studium.’—_Ibid._

Footnote 696:

‘Vereor ut impetrari ea possint quæ ad gloriam Christi et

tranquillitatem Galliæ et Ecclesiæ necessaria esse duco.’—_Corpus

Reformatorum_, ii. p. 876.

Footnote 697:

‘Mihi vero etiam supra quam dici potest jucundum.’—_Ibid._ p. 880.

Footnote 698:

‘Quo resarciri possit pulcherrima illa ecclesiasticæ politiæ harmonia,

qua una re cum ego mihi nihil unquam quicquam majori cura, studio

complectendum esse duxerim.’—_Corp. Ref._ ii. p. 880.

Footnote 699:

Crespin, _Actes des Martyres_, p. 116.

Footnote 700:

Ibid. p. 126.

Footnote 701:

‘In hanc pacificationem, mi Melancthon, per Deum quantum potes

incumbe.’—_Corp. Ref._ ii. p. 881.

Footnote 702:

The letter is dated: ‘Ex fano Quintini (St. Quentin) in Viromanduis,

die 27 Jun. anno 1535.’—_Ibid._

Footnote 703:

‘Molti anni inanzi, li prelati non erano stati in quelle riforma di

vita; li cardinali havevono libertà maggiore di dire l’ opinione loro,

in consistorio .... Si poteva sperare di giorno in giorno maggiore

riforma.’—_Tre libri delli Commentarj delli Guerra_, 1537. Ranke.

Footnote 704:

De Thou; Sainte-Marthe.

Footnote 705:

‘Necessarium esse religioni et Galliæ ut regiæ exspectationi

satisfacias.’—_Corp. Ref._ ii. p. 888.

Footnote 706:

‘Non enim est quod metuas iniquorum potentiam.’—_Ibid._

Footnote 707:

‘Mirabiliter eum inflammares.’—_Ibid._

Footnote 708:

Isambert, xii. p. 405; Sismondi, xvi. p. 459.

Footnote 709:

Instructions des rois très chrétiens et de leurs ambassadeurs (Paris

1654), p. 7.

Footnote 710:

Ballue et Bouchigny. Crevier, _Hist. de l’Université_, v. pp. 2-4.

Footnote 711:

Calvin.

Footnote 712:

Pallavicini, Maimbourg, Varillas, &c.

Footnote 713:

Maimbourg, _Calvinisme_, p. 28. Varillas, ii. p. 449.

Footnote 714:

‘Acta in conventu Ratisbonensi, 1541,’ by Melancthon and Bucer.

CHAPTER XVII.

WILL THE ATTEMPT TO ESTABLISH UNITY AND TRUTH SUCCEED?

(AUGUST TO NOVEMBER 1535.)

[Sidenote: Individuality And Community.]

Was the union desired by so many eminent men to be for good or for evil?

On this question different opinions may be, and have been, entertained.

Certain minds like to isolate themselves, and look with mistrust and

disdain upon human associations. It is true that man exists first as an

individual, and that before all things he must be himself; but he does

not exist alone: he is a member of a body, and this forms the second

part of his existence. Human life is both a monologue and a dialogue.

Before the era of Christianity, these two essential modes of being had

but an imperfect existence: on the one hand, social institutions

absorbed the individual, and on the other, each nation was encamped

apart. Christianity aggrandized individuality by calling men to unite

with God, and at the same time it proclaimed the great unity of the

human race, and undertook to make into one family all the families of

the earth, by giving the same heavenly Father to all. It imparts a fresh

intensity to individuality by teaching man that a single soul is in

God’s eyes of more value than the whole universe; but this, far from

doing society an injury, becomes the source of great prosperity to it.

The more an individual is developed in a Christian sense, the more

useful a member he becomes of the nation and of the human race.

Individuality and community are the two poles of life; and it is

necessary to maintain both, in order that humanity may fulfil its

mission in revolving ages. The mischief lies in giving an unjust

pre-eminence to either of the two elements. Romish unity, which

encroaches upon individuality, is an obstacle to real Christian

civilization; while an extreme individuality, which isolates man, is

full of peril both to society and to the individual himself. It would

therefore be unreasonable to condemn or to approve absolutely the

eminent men who in 1535 endeavored to restore unity to the Church. The

question is to know whether, by reconstructing catholicity, they

intended or not to sacrifice individual liberty. If they desired a real

Christian union, their work was good; if, on the contrary, they aimed at

restoring unity with a hierarchical object, with a despotic spirit,

their work was bad.

There was another question on which men were not more agreed. Would the

great undertaking succeed? France continued to ask for Melancthon; would

Germany reply to her advances? We must briefly glance at the events

which had taken place in the empire since the agreement between the

catholics and protestants concluded, as we have seen, in July,

1532.[715] These events may help us to solve the question.

It had been stipulated in the religious peace that all Germans should

show to one another a sincere and Christian friendship. In the treaty of

Cadan (29th June, 1534), Ferdinand, who had been recognized as King of

the Romans, had undertaken, both for himself and for Charles V., to

protect the protestants against the proceedings of the imperial court.

Somewhat later, the city of Münster, in Westphalia, had become the

theatre of the extravagances of fanaticism. John Bockhold, a tailor of

Leyden, setting himself up for a prophet, had made himself master of the

city, and been proclaimed king of Zion. He had also established a

community of goods, and attempted, like other sectarians, to restore

polygamy. He used to parade the city, wearing a golden crown; to sit in

judgment in the market-place, and would often cut off the head of a

condemned person. A pulpit was erected at the side of the throne, and

after the sermon the whole congregation would sometimes begin to dance.

The Landgrave, Philip of Hesse, one of the leaders of the protestant

cause, marched against these madmen, took Münster on the 24th June,

1535, and put an end to the pretended kingdom of Zion.[716] These

extravagances did not injure the protestant cause, which was not

confounded with a brutal communism, reeking with cruelty and debauchery;

besides, it was the protestants, and not the catholics, who had put them

down. But from that hour, the evangelicals felt more strongly than ever

the necessity of resisting the sectarian spirit: this they had done at

Wittemberg as early as 1522. At last it appeared clearer every day that

the free and Christian general council, which they had so often

demanded, would be granted them. All the events, which we have

indicated, seemed to have prepared protestant Germany to accept the

proposals of France.

[Sidenote: An Important Mission.]

Voré de la Fosse, bearing letters from Francis I., William du Bellay,

and other friends of the union, was going to Germany to try and bring it

to a successful issue. De la Fosse was not such a distinguished

ambassador as those who figured at London and at Rome, and the power to

which he was accredited was a professor in a petty town of Saxony. But

Germany called this professor her ‘master,’ and De la Fosse considered

his mission a more important one than any that had been confided to

dukes and cardinals. Christendom was weakened by being severed into two

parts; he was going to re-establish unity, and revive and purify the old

member by the life of the new one. The Christian Church thus

strengthened would be made capable of the greatest conquests. On the

success of the steps that were about to be taken depended, in the

opinion of De la Fosse and his friends, the destiny of the world.

The envoy of Francis I. arrived at Wittemberg on the 4th of August,

1535, and immediately paid Melancthon a visit, at which he delivered the

letters intrusted to him, and warmly explained the motives which ought

to induce the reformer to proceed to France. De la Fosse’s candor, his

love for the Gospel, and his zeal gained the heart of Luther’s friend.

By degrees a sincere friendship grew up between them; and when

Melancthon afterwards wanted to justify himself in the eyes of the

French, he appealed to the testimony of the ‘very good and very

excellent Voré.’[717] But if the messenger pleased him, the message

filled his heart with trouble: the perusal of the letters from the king,

Du Bellay, and Sturm brought the doubts of this man of peace to a

climax. He saw powerful reasons for going to France and equally powerful

reasons for staying in Germany. To use the expression of a reformer,

there were two batteries firing upon him by turns from opposite

quarters, now driving him to the right, now to the left. What would

Charles V. say, if a German should go to the court of his great

adversary? Besides, what was to be expected from the Sorbonne, the

clergy, and the court? Contempt.... He would not go. On the other hand,

Melancthon had before him a letter from the king, pressing him to come

to Paris. An influential nation might be gained to the Gospel, and carry

all the West along with it. When the Lord calls, must we allow ourselves

to be stopped by fear?... He hesitated no longer: he would depart. Voré

de la Fosse was delighted. But erelong other thoughts sprang up to

torment the doctor’s imagination. What was there not to be feared from a

prince who had sworn, standing before the stake at which he was burning

his subjects, that to stop heresy he would, if necessary, cut off his

own arm and cast it into the fire?... In that terrible day of the

strappadoes, a deep gulf had opened in the midst of the church. Was it

his business to throw himself, Curtius-like, into the abyss, in order

that the gulf should close over him?... Melancthon would willingly leave

to the young Roman the glory of devoting himself to the infernal gods.

De la Fosse visited the illustrious professor daily, and employed every

means to induce him to cross the Rhine.[718] ‘We will do whatever you

desire,’ he said. ‘Do you wish for royal letters to secure to you full

liberty of going to France and returning? You shall have them. Do you

ask for hostages as guarantees for your return? You shall have them

also. Do you want an armed guard of honor to escort you and bring you

back? It shall be given you.[719] We will spare nothing. On your

interview with the king depends not only the fate of France, but (so to

speak) of the whole world.[720] Hearken to the friends of the Gospel who

dwell in Paris. Threatening waves surround us, they say by my mouth;

furious tempests assail us; but the moment you come, we shall find

ourselves, as it were, miraculously transported into the safest of

havens.[721] If, on the contrary, you despise the king’s invitation, all

hope is lost for us. The fires now slumbering will instantly shoot forth

their flames, and there will be a cruel return of the most frightful

tortures.[722] It is not only Sturm, Du Bellay, and other friends like

them who invite you, but all the pious Christians of France. They are

silent, no doubt—those whom the cruellest of punishments have laid among

the dead, and even those who, immured in dungeons, are separated from us

by doors of iron; but, if their voices cannot reach you, listen at least

to one mighty voice, the voice of God himself, the voice of Jesus

Christ.’[723]

[Sidenote: Melancthon A Man Of God.]

When Melancthon heard this appeal, he was agitated and overpowered.[724]

What an immense task! These Frenchmen are placing the world on his

shoulders! Can such a poor Atlas as he is bear it? How must he decide?

What must he do? In a short time his perplexity was again increased. The

French gentleman had hardly left the room when his wife, Catherine

daughter of the Burgomaster of Wittemberg, her relations, her young

children, and some of his best friends surrounded him and entreated him

not to leave them. They were convinced that, if Melancthon once set foot

in that city ‘which killeth the prophets,’ they would never see him

again. They described the traps laid for him; they reminded him that no

safe-conduct had been given him; they shed tears, they clung to him, and

yet he did not give way.

Melancthon was a man of God, and prayed his heavenly Father to show him

the road he ought to take; he thoroughly weighed the arguments for and

against his going. ‘The thought of myself and of mine,’ he said, ‘the

remoteness of the place to which I am invited, and fear of the dangers

that await me ought not to stop me.[725] Nothing should be more sacred

to me than the glory of the Son of God, the deliverance of so many pious

men, and the peace of the Church troubled by such great tempests. Upon

that all my thoughts ought to be concentred; but this is what disturbs

me: I fear to act imprudently in a matter of such great importance, and

to make the disease still more incurable through my precipitancy. Will

not the French, while giving way on some trivial points which they must

necessarily renounce, retain the most important articles in which

falsehood and impiety are especially found?[726] Alas! such patchwork

would produce more harm than good.’

There was much truth in these fears; but De la Fosse, returning to his

friend, sought to banish his apprehensions, and assured him that the

disposition of Francis I. was excellent at bottom. ‘Yes,’ replied

Luther’s friend, ‘but is he in a position to act upon it?’[727] He

expected nothing from a conference with fanatical doctors. Besides, the

Sorbonne refused all discussion. ‘The king,’ he said, ‘is not the

Church. A council alone has power to reform it; and therefore the prince

ought to set his heart upon hastening its convocation. All other means

of succoring afflicted Christendom are useless and dangerous.’

De la Fosse turned Melancthon’s objection against him. ‘At least we must

prepare the way for the council,’ he said; ‘and it is just on that

account that the King of France wishes to converse with you.’ Then,

desiring to strike home, the envoy of Francis I. continued: ‘The king

never had anything more at heart than to heal the wounds of the Church:

he has never shown so much care, anxiety, and zeal.[728] If you comply

with his wishes, you will be received with more joy in France than any

stranger before you. Will you withhold from the afflicted Church the

hand that can save her? Let nothing in the world, I conjure you, turn

you aside from so pure and sacred an enterprise.’[729] De la Fosse was

agitated. The idea of returning to Paris without Melancthon—that is to

say, without the salvation he expected—was insupportable. ‘Depart,’ he

exclaimed, ‘if you do not come to France!... I shall never return

there.’[730]

[Sidenote: Melancthon’s Character.]

Melancthon was touched by these supplications. He thought he heard (as

they had told him) the voice of God himself. ‘Well, then,’ he said, ‘I

will go. My friends in France have entertained great expectations and

apply to me to fulfil them: I will not disappoint their hopes.’

Melancthon was resolved to maintain the essential truths of

Christianity, and hoped to see them accepted by the catholic world.

Francis I. and his friends had not rejected Luther’s fundamental

article,—justification solely by faith in the merits of Christ, by a

living faith, which produces holiness and works. According to the most

eminent and most Christian orator of the Roman Church, Melancthon

combined learning, gentleness, and elegance of style, with singular

moderation, so that he was regarded as the only man fitted to succeed in

literature to the reputation of Erasmus.[731] But he was more than that:

his convictions were not to be shaken; _he knew where he was_, and, far

from seeking all his life for his religion—as Bossuet asserts—he had

found it and admirably explained it in his _Theological

Commonplaces_.[732] Still he constantly said to his friends: ‘We must

contend only for what is great and necessary.’[733]

Melancthon, who was full of meekness, was always ready to do what might

be agreeable to others. Sincere, open, and exceedingly fond of children,

he liked to play with them and tell them little tales. But with all this

amiability he had a horror of ambiguous language, especially in matters

of faith; and although a man of extreme gentleness, he felt strongly,

his anguish could be very bitter, and when his soul was stirred, he

would break out with sudden impetuosity, which, however, he would soon

repress. His error, in the present case, was in believing that the pope

could be received without receiving his doctrines: every true

Roman-catholic could have told him that this was impossible. At all

events De la Fosse had decided him. For the triumph of unity and truth,

this simple-hearted bashful man was resolved to brave the dangers of

France and the bitter reproaches of Germany. ‘I will go,’ he said to the

envoy of Francis I. It was the language of a Christian ready to

sacrifice himself. In history we sometimes meet with characters who

enlarge our ideas of moral greatness: Melancthon was one of them.

But would his prince allow him to go? The prejudices of Germany against

France, besides numerous political and religious considerations, might

influence the elector. These were difficulties that might cause the

enterprise to fail. Still the noble-minded professor resolved to do all

in his power to overcome them. The university had just removed from

Wittemberg to Jena on account of the plague. Melancthon, quitting

Thuringia, directed his course hastily towards the banks of the Elbe,

and arriving at Torgau, where the court was staying, at the old castle

outside the city, was admitted on Sunday, the 15th of August, after

divine service to present his respects to the elector.

John Frederick was attended by many of his councillors and courtiers,

and notwithstanding the esteem he felt for Melancthon, an air of

dissatisfaction and reserve was visible in his face. The elector was

offended because the King of France, instead of applying to him, had

written direct to one of his subjects; but graver motives caused him to

regard the Wittemberg doctor’s project with displeasure.

[Sidenote: Letter To The Elector.]

It was no slight thing for Melancthon, who was naturally timid and

bashful, to ask his sovereign for anything likely to displease him.

Without alluding to the letter he had received from Francis I., which he

thought it wiser not to mention, he said: ‘Your Electoral Grace is aware

that eighteen Christians have been burnt in Paris, and many others

thrown into prison or compelled to fly. The brother of the Bishop of

Paris has endeavored to soften the king, and has written to me that that

prince has put an end to the executions, and desires to come to an

understanding with us in regard to religious matters. Du Bellay invites

me to mount my horse and go to France.[734] If I refuse, I appear to

despise the invitation or to be afraid. For this reason I am ready in

God’s name to go to Paris, as a private individual, if your Highness

permits. It is right that we should teach great potentates and foreign

nations the importance and beauty of our evangelical cause. It is right

that they should learn what our doctrine is and not confound us with

fanatics, as our enemies endeavor to do. I do not deceive myself as to

my personal unimportance and incapacity; but I also know, that if I do

not go to Paris, I shall appear to be ashamed of our cause, and to

distrust the words of the King of France, and the good men who are

endeavoring to put an end to the persecution will be exposed to the

displeasure of the master. I know the weight of the task imposed upon me

... it overwhelms me ... but I will do my duty all the same, and with

that intent I conjure your Grace to grant me two or three months’ leave

of absence.’

Melancthon, according to custom, handed in a written petition.[735] John

Frederick was content to answer coldly that he would make his pleasure

known through the members of his council.

The ice was broken. France and Germany were face to face in that castle

on the banks of the Elbe. The opposition immediately showed itself. The

audience given to Melancthon set all the court in motion. The Germanic

spirit prevailed there more than the evangelical spirit, and the

knowledge that Germans could be found who were willing to hold out their

hands to Francis I. irritated the courtiers. They met in secret

conference, looked coldly upon Melancthon, and addressed him rudely.

Gifted with the tenderest feelings, the noble-hearted man was deeply

wounded. ‘Alas!’ he wrote to Jonas, ‘the court is full of mysteries, or

rather of hatreds!... I will tell you all about it when I see you.’[736]

He awaited with anxiety the official communication from the elector. The

next day, 16th of August, he was informed that John Frederick’s

councillors had a communication to make to him on the part of their

master. If the interview with the Elector had been cold, this was icy.

Chancellor Bruck—better known as Pontanus, according to the fashion of

latinizing names—had been intrusted with this mission. Bruck, who at the

famous diet of Augsburg had presented the Evangelical Confession to

Charles V. in the presence of all the princes of Germany, was an

excellent man, more decided than Melancthon, and in some respects more

enlightened; he saw that it was dangerous to accept the pope, if they

desired to reject his doctrines. He received the doctor with a severe

look, and said to him in a harsh tone: ‘His Highness informs you that

the business you have submitted to him is of such importance, that you

ought not to have engaged yourself in it without his consent. As your

intentions were good, he will overlook it; but as to permitting you to

make a hasty and perilous journey to France, all sorts of reasons are

against it. Not only his Highness cannot expose your safety; but as he

is on the point of discussing with the emperor several questions which

concern religion, he fears that if he sent a deputy to Paris, his

Imperial Majesty, and the other princes of Germany, would imagine that

he was charged with negotiations opposed to the declarations we have

made to them. That journey might be the cause of divisions, quarrels,

and irreparable evils.[737] You are consequently desired to excuse

yourself to the King of France in the best way you can, and the elector

promises you he will write to him on the subject.’

[Sidenote: Melancthon’s Sorrow.]

Melancthon withdrew in sorrow. What a position was his! His conscience

bade him go to Paris, and his prince forbade him. Do what he would, he

must fail in one of his most important duties. If he departs in defiance

of the elector’s prohibition, he will not only offend his prince, but

set Germany against himself, and sacrifice the circle of activity which

God has given him. If he remains, all hope is lost of bringing France to

the light of the Gospel. Hesitating and heart-broken, he went first to

Wittemberg, desiring to confer with Luther, and did not conceal from his

friend the deep indignation with which he was filled.[738] He was called

to raise the standard of the Gospel in an illustrious kingdom, and the

elector opposed it on account of certain diplomatic negotiations. He

declared to Luther that he would not renounce the important mission, and

he was fortified in this opinion by the sentiments which that reformer

entertained. The two friends could speak of nothing but France, the

king, and Du Bellay. ‘As you have consulted me,’ said Luther, ‘I declare

that I should see you depart with pleasure.’[739] He also made a

communication to Melancthon which gave the latter some hope.

Having been informed of the audience of the 15th, the reformer had just

written to the elector. The cries of his brethren in France, delivered

to the flames, moved Luther at Wittemberg, as they moved Calvin at

Basle. The French reformer addressed an admirable letter to Francis I.,

and the German reformer endeavored to send Melancthon to him. The two

men were thus unsuspectingly ‘conjoint together in opinion and desires.’

‘I entreat your Grace,’ wrote Luther to John Frederick, in the most

pressing manner, ‘to authorize Master Philip to go to France. I am moved

by the tearful prayers made to him by pious men, hardly rescued from the

stake, entreating him to go and confer with the king, and thus put an

end to the murders and burnings. If this consolation be refused them,

their enemies, thirsting for blood,[740] will begin to slay and burn

with redoubled fury.... Francis I. had written Melancthon an exceedingly

kind letter, and envoys have come to solicit him on his behalf.... For

the love of God, grant him three months’ leave. Who can tell what God

means to do? His thoughts are always higher and better than ours. I

should be greatly distressed if so many pious souls, who invite

Melancthon with cries of pain, and reckon upon him, should be

disappointed and conceive untoward prejudices against us. May God lead

your Grace by his Holy Spirit!’

Such was Luther’s affection for his brethren in France. He did more than

write. The reformer was not in good health just then; he complained of

losing his strength, and of being so _decrepit_ that he was compelled to

remain idle half the day.[741] Notwithstanding this, he made the journey

from Wittemberg to Torgau, where he had an interview with the

prince.[742] Perhaps this journey was anterior to Melancthon’s.

[Sidenote: German Prejudices.]

The simultaneous efforts of these two great reformers ought to have

produced a favorable effect upon a prince like the elector. John

Frederick, who had succeeded his father John in August, 1532, was true

and high-minded, a good husband and a good prince. A disciple of

Spalatin and the friend of Luther, he venerated the Word of God, and was

full of zeal for the cause of the Reformation. Less phlegmatic than his

father, he united judgment and prudence with an enterprising spirit.

Such qualities must have led him to favor Melancthon’s journey to

France. But he was susceptible and rather obstinate; so that if a

project, not originating with him, but with another, displeased him in

any way, the probability of its success was not great. And hence

Luther’s letter did not make a great impression upon him: it merely

increased the excitement. The prejudices of Germany rendered

Melancthon’s journey less popular every day; at the court of Torgau, in

Saxony, and in the other protestant countries, it was regarded as

madness. ‘We at Augsburg,’ wrote Sailer, the deputy of that city, ‘know

the King of France well: he cares very little, as everybody knows, about

religion, and even morality. He is playing the hypocrite with the pope,

and cajoling the Germans, thinking only how he can disappoint the

expectations he raises in them. His sole thought is to crush the

emperor.’[743] Some even of the best disposed were full of horrible

apprehensions, and fancied that they saw an immense pile constructing on

which to burn the _master of Germany_. Passions were roused; a violent

tempest stirred men’s minds; the most gloomy opinions arrived at Torgau

every day from all quarters. Others did not look upon the matter so

tragically, but employed the weapons of ridicule. German susceptibility

was wounded because Francis I. had not selected some great personage for

this mission. They looked down upon Barnabas Voré called De la Fosse: ‘A

fine ambassador!’ they said; ‘all the pawnbrokers in France would not

advance twenty crowns upon his head.’—‘Even the Jews,’ said another,

‘would not have such a Barnabas, if they could buy him for a

penny.’[744]

Before long the people grew tired of jests and suppositions, and

circulated extraordinary stories. Many prophesied that Melancthon would

be assassinated, even before he had crossed the Rhine. It was reported

that the papists had killed the real ambassador on the road, that they

had substituted De la Fosse for him, and given him forged letters with a

view to influence Melancthon, for whom they had prepared an ambuscade.

‘If he departs, he is a dead man.’[745] Albert of Mayence, the

ecclesiastical elector, in particular gave umbrage to the protestants.

When these rumors reached Luther, he said: ‘In this I clearly recognize

that bishop and his colleagues; of all the devil’s instruments, they are

the worst; my fears for Philip increase. Alas! the world belongs to

Satan, and Satan to the world.’ Then, remembering an anecdote, he

continued: ‘The Archbishop of Mayence, after reading Melancthon’s

commentary on the Epistle to the Romans, exclaimed: “The man is

possessed!” and throwing the volume on the ground, trampled upon it.’ If

the prince, through whose states Melancthon would probably have to pass,

treated the book thus, what would he do to the author? Luther was

shaken. In 1527, George Winckler, the pious pastor of Halle, having been

summoned before this very Archbishop Albert, had been murdered by some

horsemen as he was returning by the road Melancthon must take. The great

reformer began to change his mind.

The elector, perceiving this, put more solid arguments before him: ‘I

fear,’ he said, ‘that if Melancthon goes to France, he will concede to

the papists far more than what you, doctor, and the other theologians

would grant, and hence there would arise a disunion between you and him

that would scandalize Christians and injure the Gospel. Those who invite

him are more the disciples of Erasmus than of the Bible. Melancthon will

infallibly incur the greatest danger at Paris—danger both to body and

soul. I would rather see God take him to himself than permit him to go

to France. That is my firm resolve.’[746]

These communications seriously affected Luther: the elector attacked him

on his weakest side. The reformer venerated Melancthon, but he knew to

what sacrifices his desire for union had more than once been on the

point of leading him. If Melancthon was the champion of unity, Luther

was the champion of truth: to guard the whole truth with a holy jealousy

was his principle. The Reformation, he thought, must triumph by fidelity

to the Word of God, and not by the negotiations of kings. Recovering

from his first impressions, he said to Melancthon: ‘I begin to suspect

these ambassadors.’[747] From that moment he never uttered a word in

favor of the journey. Still the dangers of the protestants of France

were never out of his thoughts. ‘Must we abandon our brethren?’ he asked

himself perpetually. A luminous idea occurred to him: Suppose the

evangelicals were to leave France, and come to Germany in search of

liberty.[748] He engaged to receive them well. Luther anticipated _the

Refuge_ by a century and a half.

[Sidenote: Harsh Letter To Melancthon.]

By degrees the elector gained ground, and the extraordinary adventure

proposed to Melancthon became more doubtful every day. From the first

the prince had had the politicians and courtiers with him; then the men

of letters and citizens, alarmed by the sinister reports, had gone over

to his side; and now Luther himself was convinced. Melancthon remained

almost alone. His sympathetic heart longed to remove the sword hanging

over the heads of the French evangelicals, and it seemed as if nothing

could stop him. John Frederick endeavored to convince him. Beyond a

doubt, the French reformation, driven at this moment by contrary winds,

must reach the haven; but the task must be left to its own crew. Every

ship must have its own pilot. John Frederick, therefore, wrote a severe

letter to Melancthon, and the tender-hearted divine had to drink the cup

to the dregs. ‘You declared that you were ready to undertake a journey

to France,’ said the elector, ‘without consulting us. You should,

however, have thought of your duty to us, whom God has established as

your superior. We were greatly displeased to see that you had gone so

far in the matter. You know the relations existing between the King of

France and the emperor, and you are not ignorant that we are obliged to

respect them. We desire that foreign nations should be brought to the

Gospel; but must we go to them to effect their conversion?[749] The

undertaking is of great extent, and the success very doubtful. The

letters we receive from France are well calculated to make us despair of

seeing the evangelical seed bear fruit there. _Do you desire to disturb

the public peace of the German nation, and while we have a right to

expect that you will second us, do you presume on the contrary to vex us

and thwart our plans?_’

This was too much. Melancthon stopped; the arrow, aimed by the elector,

had pierced his heart. His decision was soon made: ‘Because of these

words,’ he said ‘I will not go.’ He afterwards underlined the passage,

and wrote in the margin the words we have just quoted.[750] The elector

had been still more severe, when he dictated the despatch. ‘Go,’ were

his words, ‘go and do as you please; engage in this adventure. But we

leave all the responsibility with you. Consider it well.’ He suppressed

this paragraph at the chancellor’s desire.[751]

Melancthon’s simple and tender heart was crushed by his sovereign’s

dissatisfaction. Surmounting his natural shyness, he had determined to

brave danger, in the hope of seeing the Reformation triumph, and now

disgrace was his only reward. The courtiers maintained that he and the

other theologians were obstinate and almost imbecile, and would do much

better to be content with their schools and leave the government of the

Church to others. Melancthon lightened his grief by sharing it with his

friends; he wrote to Camerarius, to Sturm, and even to William du

Bellay. The great hellenist, who had lived much among the ancient

republics of Greece, imagined that Europe was already overrun by the

evils under which those states had perished. ‘I have never known a more

cruel prince,’ he said to them: ‘with what harshness he treats me![752]

He not only does not permit me to depart, but he insults me besides. My

fault is in being less obstinate than others. I confess that peace is so

precious in my eyes that it ought not to be broken except for matters

really great and necessary. Oh! if the elector did but know those who

take advantage of this proposed journey to sow discord! It is not the

learned who do it, but the ignorant and the fools. They call me deserter

and runaway.... O my friend, we live under the _régime_ of the

democracy, that is to say, under the tyranny of the unlearned,[753] of

people who quarrel about old wives’ stories, and think of nothing but

gratifying their passions. How great is the hatred with which they are

inflamed against me!... They slander me and say that I am betraying my

prince.’ Theramenes was condemned to drink hemlock because he had

substituted an aristocracy or government of the worthiest for a

democracy, and governed the state with wisdom. ‘I do not deceive

myself,’ he exclaimed; ‘the fate of Theramenes awaits me.’[754]

Melancthon was not the only sufferer; his faithful friend, Luther, did

not fail him. Although he was now opposed to the French journey, John

Frederick’s letter disturbed him seriously; it appeared to him that

great changes were necessary, and a stormy future loomed before him. ‘My

heart is sad,’ he wrote to Jonas, ‘for I know that such a severe letter

will cause Philip the keenest anguish.... All this awakens thoughts

which I would rather not have.[755] Another time I will tell you more

... at present I am overwhelmed with sorrow.’ Then, feeling uneasy about

Melancthon, he wrote to him: ‘Have you _swallowed_ our prince’s

letter?[756] I was exceedingly agitated by it from love to you. Tell me

how you are.’ ...

What were the thoughts that occurred to Luther involuntarily? There is

some difficulty in deciding. Perhaps the reformer thought that this

business might occasion a difference between Church and State. ‘Admire

the wisdom of the court,’ he said; ‘see how it boasts of being an actor

in this adventure! As for us, we much prefer being merely spectators,

and I begin to congratulate myself that the court despises and excludes

us.[757] It all happens through the goodness of God, so that we should

not be mixed up with these disturbances, which we might perchance have

to lament hereafter very sorely. Now we are safe, for whatever is done

is done without us. What Demosthenes desired too late, we obtain

early—namely, not to be concerned in the government.[758] May God

strengthen us therein! Amen.’ Luther appeared to foresee a time when the

evangelical Church would have no other support but God, and rejoiced at

the prospect.

[Sidenote: Melancthon’s Letter To The King.]

As John Frederick had not yet despatched his letter to Francis I., his

councillors delicately advised him to suppress it. ‘Since the king has

not written to the elector about the proposed journey,’ said Luther, ‘it

would be better for the elector also not to write. A letter from him

would perhaps give the king an opportunity of answering, and that should

be avoided.’[759] John Frederick still hesitated, for although his

letter was written on the 18th of August, it was not despatched until

the 28th. ‘Most serene and illustrious king,’ he said, ‘we should have

been willing to do your majesty a pleasure, by permitting Melancthon to

go to France, especially as it was for an extraordinary propagation of

the Gospel, so as to make it yield the most abundant and the richest

fruit.[760] But we had to take into consideration the difficulties of

the present times.’ Then, as a final reason, the elector added: ‘Lastly,

we do not remember for certain ... that your Majesty has written to us

about Melancthon. If in any future contingency you should write to us

for him,’ continued John Frederick, ‘and should assure us that he will

be restored safe and sound, we will permit him to proceed to you. Be

assured that we shall always readily do whatever we can to propagate the

Gospel of Christ in every place, to favor the temporal and spiritual

interests of your Majesty, your kingdom, and its church, and to hasten

the deliverance of the Christian commonwealth.’

Melancthon, to whom the elector communicated this letter,[761] feared

that instead of quieting the King of France, it would only irritate him

still more. He could not bear the idea of answering ungratefully a

powerful monarch who had shown such kindness towards him. This thought

engrossed him from morning to night. On the very day when the Elector

Frederick’s letter was despatched, Melancthon sent off three, the first

of which was for the king. He feared, above all things, that Francis I.

would relinquish the great enterprise that was to restore unity and

truth to the Church. He therefore wrote to him, suppressing the

indignation he felt at the elector’s refusal. ‘Most Christian and most

mighty king,’ he said, ‘France infinitely excels all the kingdoms of the

world, in that it has continually been a vigilant sentinel for the

defence of the Christian religion.[762] Wherefore, I humbly congratulate

your Majesty for having undertaken to reform the doctrine of the Church,

not by violent remedies but by reasonable means;[763] and I beseech your

Majesty not to cease bestowing all your thoughts and all your care upon

this matter. Sire, do not allow yourself to be stopped by the harsh

judgments and rude writings of certain men. Do not suffer their

imprudence to nullify a project so useful to the Church. After receiving

your letter, I made every effort to hasten to your Majesty; for there is

nothing I desire more than to aid the Church according to my poverty. I

had conceived the best hopes, but great obstacles keep me back.... Voré

de la Fosse will inform you of them.’

If the doctor of Germany was reserved when writing to the king, he

allowed the emotions of his heart to be seen in the letters he wrote the

same day to Du Bellay and Sturm: ‘Could anything be more distressing,’

he said to Du Bellay, ‘than to be exposed at one and the same time to

the anger of the most Christian king, the harsh treatment of the

elector, and the calumnies of the people?... But the injustice of men

shall not rob me of moderation of spirit or zeal for religion. Touching

the journey, I have promised Voré de la Fosse to go to Frankfort

shortly, whence, if it be desired, I will hasten to you.’ He had not,

therefore, entirely given up France. ‘I hope,’ he said in conclusion,

‘that the king’s mind will be so guided by your advice and by that of

your brother the cardinal, that he will henceforward employ all his

powers in setting forth the glory of Christ.’[764]