HISTORY OF THE FRENCH SHORE--FELIX V
The history of the French shore, which has only recently belonged
to France, may be told in briefest outline. In the earliest times
of which we need take cognizance it belonged to the Dukes of Savoy,
whose domains continued for a considerable distance up the valley of
the Rhone. Then came the war of 1536, of which we have spoken more
than once, in which the Bernese took the territory away from them.
Part of it was recovered by Duke Emanuel Philibert in 1564, and the
whole was reassigned by treaty in 1593. The inhabitants had, in the
meantime, been converted to Protestantism, and the first task of
Savoy was to reconvert them. A mission for that purpose was led by
St. Francis de Sales, and the principles of the Counter-Reformation
quickly triumphed. The French Revolution brought a French army to
Savoy, but the expelled rulers came to their own again when the Holy
Alliance resettled the map of Europe. Nothing further happened until
the war which resulted in the consolidation of a United Italy. Savoy
(together with Nice) was then Napoleon III.'s reward for ejecting the
Austrian garrison from Italian territory. The country had long been
French in its language and its sympathies, and the people were quite
willing, if not actively anxious, to change their allegiance; and
the history of Savoy has, since that date, belonged to the history
of France. Its extreme Catholicism, like that of Brittany, gave
trouble at the time of the expulsion of the Religious Orders, but
that is a question of modern politics into which it is unnecessary to
enter here. We will search instead for the historical and literary
landmarks.
Our first interesting name is that of Duke Amadeus VIII. The death
of his eldest son caused him profound grief, and 'in 1431,' says
Bishop Creighton, 'he retired from active life, and built himself
a luxurious retreat at Ripaille, whither he withdrew with seven
companions to lead a life of religious seclusion. His abode was
called the Temple of St. Maurice; he and his followers wore grey
cloaks, like hermits, with gold crosses round their necks and long
staffs in their hands.' But though Duke Amadeus dressed as a
hermit, he hardly lived as one; and as for religious seclusion, he
interpreted it after a fashion of his own. 'Vitam magis voluptuosam
quam penitentialem degebat,' is the statement of his biographer,
Æneas Sylvius; and his jovial proceedings added to the French
language the new expression 'faire Ripaille.'
Those were the days, however, when the Council of Basle accused Pope
Eugenius IV. of heresy and schism. An Opposition Pope was wanted, and
the Council decided to offer the dignity to the ducal hermit, who
was living a voluptuous rather than a penitential life. A deputation
was sent to wait upon him at Ripaille. Amadeus, with his hermit
companions, advanced to meet the visitors, with a cross borne before
him, and discussed the proposal in a thoroughly business-like spirit.
'What,' he asked, 'do you expect the Pope to live on? I cannot
consume my patrimony and disinherit my sons.' He was promised a grant
of first-fruits of vacant benefices, and that satisfied him, though
he made the further stipulation that he should not be required to
shave. As a matter of fact, however, he was presently shamed into
shaving by the respectful amazement of the devout; and he took the
name of Felix V. and entered Basle attended by his two sons--'an
unusual escort for a Pope,' as Creighton justly remarks--and was
crowned by the Cardinal of Aries, the only Cardinal present, on July
24, 1440.
The question then arose, Which Pope would be recognized by the other
European Principalities and Powers? By degrees it was found that the
balance of opinion was against Felix V., and in favour of Eugenius
IV. and his successor Nicolas V.; and Felix V. then discovered that
he did not greatly care about his somewhat shadowy honours. He had
had much anxiety, and only a small and irregular stipend. So, on
April 7, 1449, he was persuaded to resign the Papal office, and less
than two years afterwards he died. 'He was more useful to the Church
by his death than by his life,' says Æneas Sylvius. But that is as it
may be. He was, at all events, an interesting figure and a better man
than Æneas himself, seeing that Æneas, afterwards Pius II., candidly
confessed that he was 'neither holier than David nor wiser than
Solomon,' and actually wrote love-letters to help Sigismund, Count
of Tyrol, 'to overcome the resistance of a girl who shrank from his
dishonourable proposals.'
[Illustration: THE RHONE VALLEY FROM CHEXBRES]