FIRST ARMED ATTACK OF THE CATHOLICS UPON THE REFORMATION.
(MARCH 28, 1533).
This effusion of blood, far from calming men's minds, served but to
inflame them. 'All good christians were more excited than before,' says
Sister Jeanne. The skirmish in which, being seven hundred against two,
they had gained the advantage, was an omen of victory! They looked at
each other and counted their numbers. 'We are the majority and well
armed,' they said; 'we must sally out boldly and fight these rascals.'
The principal leaders, lay and ecclesiastic, withdrawing into a private
part of the cathedral, held a final council. The most influential
represented that the huguenots had celebrated the sacrament, that they
persevered in holding their meetings 'here and there,' that the
sacerdotal authority was decreasing and the number of heretics
increasing, and that there was only one means left of saving the Romish
faith—putting every heretic to death.[656] The syndics stretched out
their wands in vain, and ordered them to keep the peace. All was
useless. 'Now is the time,' cried the priests; 'let us run to the great
bell and give the signal.' At the word many hastened to the tower of the
church and began to ring the tocsin. At the same time those who were in
the church prepared to march.
[Sidenote: CATHOLICS PREPARE TO FIGHT.]
Three of the syndics were devoted to the catholic party: Nicholas du
Crest, Pierre de Malbuisson, and Claude Baud. Finding that they could
not stop the riot, they determined if possible to direct it. Claude
Baud, lord of Troches, in whose castle many a plot had been concocted
against the independence of Geneva, would have desired to make an end of
the Reform, but not by violent means. Seeing, however, that it was
impossible to check the torrent, he put himself at the head of the
_émeute_, but with the hope of restraining it, and afterwards of
repressing the Reform by legal means. 'Shut the doors of the church,'
said Baud. This had a surprising effect: the catholics on a sudden grew
calmer. The syndic feared that if they came to blows, the two parties
might become confused in the battle, and that friends would strike
friends without recognising each other. He ordered a great bundle of
laurel boughs to be brought in, and addressing the crowd around him,
said: 'Formerly, citizens, they used to give garlands to the conquerors;
I give you these laurels before the victory: they will distinguish you
from the wicked.' The combatants each took a sprig and fastened it to
their caps; and then the pious catholics who were in the crowd, wishing
to give a religious character to the _émeute_, proposed that they should
implore the blessing of heaven before they started. The ecclesiastics
were silent immediately, and turning to the choir, prostrated themselves
in fervent devotion before the high altar. All present knelt down 'with
great abundance of tears,' and sang the famous hymn of the Roman
breviary:
Vexilla regis prodeunt.[657]
As soon as the strain was ended, one of the priests said: 'Let us
commend ourselves to the blessed Virgin, that she may intercede for us
and for the holy faith!' And all, as with one voice, joined in the
_Salve Regina_—a prayer which the people were accustomed to sing at the
execution of a criminal. The echoes of this ominous chant having died
away in the aisles of the vast cathedral, the priests rose from their
knees: one of them took the cross, while some laid hold of other
banners. 'Behold,' they said, 'behold the standards of the king
advancing.' The excitement grew greater every minute. It was Friday, the
one before Passion Week. 'Let us this day call to mind the day on which
our Lord was willing to shed his blood for us, and therefore let us not
spare ours. Let us take vengeance on his enemies who crucify him anew
more cruelly than the Jews did.'[658] They uttered such cries that 'it
was quite pitiful to hear them,' and 'there was no heart so hard as not
to melt into tears.'[659]
[Sidenote: THE CORPS ARE FORMED.]
All this emotion was not without a cause. The religion of the middle
ages was disappearing. We believe that it must disappear altogether; and
yet we are touched by the enthusiasm displayed by its adherents, which
was worthy of a better cause. Syndic Baud, who wished to give an
appearance of legality to the clerical movement, called Percival de
Pesmes, and ordered him to go with a body of men and fetch the banner of
the city. At length the great bell, which had kept on ringing, was
silent; the ringers came down from the tower and joined the rest of
their party. The churchmen then formed into companies and elected their
captains; all were full of courage and ardour, and St. Pierre's
resembled a parade-ground rather than a church. The companies defiled in
front of the high altar, and the syndic, ordering the doors to be thrown
open, all the clerical army quitted the temple, descended with a firm
step the steep street of the Perron, and proceeded towards the Molard,
which was the general rendezvous for those who desired on that day to
destroy both the reformed and the Reformation in Geneva.
As soon as the tocsin was heard, the city was agitated to its most
retired quarters, and even the inhabitants of the surrounding districts
had listened with alarm to its ill-omened sound. The startled and uneasy
citizens caught up their arms, rushed hastily from their houses, and ran
'like poor wandering sheep without a shepherd,' some one way, some
another, not knowing where to go, what was the matter, and whether the
enemy was within the walls or without. The peasants of the vicinity,
forewarned by the agents of the canons, entered the city in arms. The
confusion continued to increase: some cried 'Fire,' others 'Fall on;'
all shouted 'Alarm, alarm!' Some ran to the gates, others to the
hôtel-de-ville, and others to the ramparts; but the priests who had
contrived the affair, and who were marching 'in large bands' from
different quarters towards the Molard, excited the ignorant people to
follow them, and shouting so as to drown all other cries, 'Down with the
Lutherans,' thus made it known who were the enemies to be attacked. 'To
the Molard,' they added; 'Down with the dogs that want to destroy our
holy mother Church.' No fervent catholic hesitated; all ran along the
streets, isolated or in bands; they drew their swords, then arquebusses
rattled.... It was like a flock of birds in search of their prey,
opening their talons, and plunging swiftly upon the Molard.[660]
[Sidenote: THE MUSTERING OF THE HOSTS.]
Meanwhile the main clerical body, that which started from St. Pierre's,
arrived. It numbered from six to seven hundred men—canons, priests,
monks, sacristans, and devout laymen, all well armed, Syndic Baud
marching at their head, and 'wearing his great hat and feathers.' When
this body debouched on the square by the arcade of the Fort de l'Ecluse,
the Molard and adjacent streets were filled with an agitated and
confused crowd. But immediately, by the syndic's order, companies were
formed in imitation of that of St. Pierre's, and all the people put
themselves 'in order for fighting.' Baud having thus drawn out his
corps, proceeded to count them: there were about 2,500 men,[661] not
reckoning the old men, women, and children, who shouted and wept, and
although unarmed, added to the tumult. The catholics were full of hope.
To the majority of them, the struggle was a mere party matter; but
others, better instructed and better theologians than the rest, felt
that it was an effort to expel for ever from Geneva the doctrines of
protestantism touching the pre-eminence of Holy Scripture,
justification, works, the mass, the Church, and especially grace, to
which alone the Reformation attributed salvation, while the Romish
Church claimed a part in conversion for the natural powers of man, and
looked upon this difference between the two Churches as the essential
point. At the same time, however, it must be acknowledged that just then
they troubled themselves very little about theology. Being ready to
contend with the arms of men of war, the two bodies were especially
animated by political passions. The catholics feared lest their enemies
should succeed in escaping. 'Shut the gates of the city,' said the
syndic, 'so that no one can take flight.' Again cries were heard:
'Forward, lead us to Baudichon's.' 'No,' answered Baud, 'let us wait for
the other corps before we attack.'
There were still three bands to come: the first, commanded by the
bishop's equerry, Percival de Pesmes, was to come straight from the
hôtel-de-ville, bringing the banner, as we have said; the second,
commanded by Canon de Veigy, descending from the west, was to make for
the Molard by the Rue de la Cité; the third, coming from the suburb of
St. Gervais, was to cross the Rhone bridge, and was commanded by Captain
Bellessert. 'He was a stout fellow and like a madman,' says Froment. The
band that he conducted was the most violent in the republic. These three
corps united with the 2,500 men already at the Molard could not fail to
give the death-blow to the reformed and the Reformation.
But as they did not appear, the catholics and mamelukes who were ready
for fighting, zealous in the cause of the pope, and overflowing with
hatred for the Reform, became impatient, and striking the ground with
the butt-ends of their guns, desired to march forthwith. 'Forward!' they
cried. 'Let us wait,' said the syndic, whether because he feared that
'their business would not take well,' as the chronicle says; or because
he wished by an imposing force to constrain the reformed to surrender
without fighting; or, lastly, because he hoped that if he
procrastinated, some unforeseen circumstance might happen to disarm the
combatants. 'We want artillery,' he said, 'to besiege Baudichon's
house.' This quieted the most ardent, by giving them something to do;
they hurried off to the arsenal, but it was doubtful whether it would be
opened to them, as the captain-general was opposed to them. The
artillery-keeper, named Bossu (hunchback), in consequence of his
infirmity, a man of vulgar character and suspected morals, and a strong
partisan of the priests, did not hesitate. He delivered up the artillery
to the catholics, who dragged away the cannon with much uproar, planted
them in the square, and loaded them.[662]
At this moment arrived the band led by the descendant of the crusaders,
the young and dashing Percival de Pesmes, eager to fight, like his
fathers, for the pope and his Church against these new Saracens. He bore
the great banner with pride, and, defiling with his corps, drew them up
in line of battle. Syndic Baud took the banner from his hands, and
planted it in the middle of the square. The people, electrified at the
sight, 'raised a loud shout.'[663] There is no longer any doubt: the
republic is arming, the city banner floats above the catholic ranks, and
the huguenots are only rebels.
[Sidenote: THE NUNS OF SAINT CLAIRE.]
The monks took the most active part in this business; the convents were
therefore empty, all but that of Saint Claire, which alone was not
deserted. The nuns, however, wished to take part in the struggle:
'Alas!' they said, 'our worthy fathers have gone to share in the fight
with a number of monks, because it is in behalf of the faith.... Let us
kneel before God that He may show mercy to the poor city.' The mother
abbess drew a cross of ashes on the foreheads of the sisters, after
which they marched in procession round the cloister, invoking in devout
litanies the protection of the whole celestial choir. Then forming a
cross, they took their places in the middle of the choir, and there,
distracted and weeping, they fell on their knees and cried aloud:
'Mercy, O God! through the intercession of the glorious Virgin Mary and
all the Saints! Give victory to the Christians, and bring the poor
wanderers back to the way of salvation.'[664]
At this moment the sisters heard a noise at the gate of the convent: it
was a few good catholic women who, very much afraid themselves, came to
bring the sisters tidings calculated to add to their distress. 'If the
heretics win the day,' they said, 'they will certainly make you all
marry, young and old—all to your perdition.'[665] This was the customary
bugbear of the poor nuns. They were superstitious and even fanatical,
but nothing indicates that they were not pure. A tradition to the effect
that there was an underground communication between their convent and
that of the gray friars is a fiction as void of foundation as the
frightful news of a _forced marriage_ brought by their indiscreet
friends. The terrified nuns crossed themselves, sang their litanies once
more, and cried louder than ever: 'O holy Virgin, give victory to the
Christians!'
[Sidenote: A CRUEL HUSBAND.]
The agitation in the city was then at its height; the shouts of the
priests were frightful,[666] They bawled lustily to those who lagged
behind, exhorted those who appeared indifferent, and animated the whole
body with voice and gesture, as hunters urge their hounds after the
stag. The catholics responded to the tumultuous clamours of these
ministers of disorder and strife. But the tempest was not confined to
the streets: scenes still more harrowing were taking place in the
houses. 'Alas!' said the wisest men, 'there is no humanity left, and
they take no account of the ties of nature.' One of the most fiery
catholics, hearing the tocsin, was hurriedly fitting on his armour, when
his wife, a fervent Romanist like himself, and whose father was at the
head of the Lutherans, was filled with terror at seeing her husband's
animation, and looked at him with a dejected countenance. She was Micah,
daughter of Baudichon de la Maisonneuve. Her catholic faith did not make
the young wife forget the sweet and holy ties that bind a child to her
father. She shuddered at each malediction uttered by her husband against
the author of her days. At length her grief broke out in a flood of
tears. Her fanatical husband, exasperated to the highest degree against
Maisonneuve, who was regarded as the main support of the heresy, turned
back and, without showing the least pity, said: 'Wife, cry as much as
you please. If we come to blows and I meet your father, he shall be the
first on whom I shall try my strength.... I will kill him, or he shall
kill me.' And then, callous at the sight of Micah, whose tears flowed
faster at these words which pierced her heart, the barbarous husband
said as he left her: 'He is a bad Christian, a renegade, the worst of
the worst—this wretched Baudichon!'[667] Micah was twice married: first
to Bernard Combet, and secondly to Guyot Taillon. We have not been able
to discover which of her two husbands was so cruel; probably it was the
first.
These distressing scenes became more heart-rending every moment. In the
houses nothing was heard but the cries and groans of mothers and wives,
of daughters and young children. The streets echoed with the oaths of
the men who cursed _that law_ (the Reformation), and the first man who
had brought it there. 'In truth, it is not possible,' says the
chronicler, 'to describe the cries and tears which then filled the whole
city.' But the mournful sounds of grief and sorrow which rose in the air
could not drown the fanatical and sonorous voices of the priests.[668]
During this time a deep and solemn awe prevailed in Baudichon's house.
The evangelicals were not insensible to the hatred which was arrayed
against them, but the greatness of the danger gave them that calmness
which the Christian experiences in the presence of death. The strong
encouraged the weak, addressing them in words of piety and feeling:
'Ah!' they said, 'if all the world would agree in the truth, we should
be at peace; but as the majority fight against it, we cannot confess
Christ without encountering resistance and hatred. It is the malice of
the wicked one that divides us into contrary bands, and everywhere
kindles strife and debate.'[669]
[Sidenote: NOVEL REINFORCEMENT.]
An unexpected reinforcement added to the numbers of the catholic troop.
The women of that party had not all a tender soul and bruised heart,
like Baudichon's daughter: the virtues of the evangelical women, the
eagerness with which they had renounced their jewels and dress in favour
of the poor, had excited the displeasure of many of them; and the
thought that they no longer came to kneel with them at the altar of
Mary, had filled them with anger and hatred. The tempest then sweeping
through the city fanned the evil passions of the weaker sex. In every
house the wives and sisters, and even the mothers of the catholics got
ready; they assembled the children from twelve to fifteen years old, and
proceeded with them to the Place d'Armes, where they had agreed to meet.
'In this assemblage of women,' says Sister Jeanne, who was very intimate
with them, 'there were full seven hundred children from twelve to
fifteen years old, firmly resolved to do good service along with their
mothers.'
When these ladies met, they held a parliament of a new sort; and their
speeches were far more impassioned than those of the men. They had no
doubt that their husbands would put all their adversaries to death, but
were vexed to think that their wives would be left alive. 'If it should
happen,' said one of them, 'that our husbands fight against the
unbelievers, let us also make war and _kill their heretic wives, in
order that the breed may be extirpated_.'[670] This was the only way,
these pious ladies thought, of preserving Geneva catholic; if the wives
and children were spared, the heresy would shoot forth again in a few
years. A unanimous cry of approval was raised by the women, and even by
the accompanying children, and the Amazons immediately prepared for the
combat. They armed their children, distributing little hatchets and
swords among them; when there were no more weapons to give out, their
mothers told them to fill their hats and caps with stones. They, too,
fiercely gathered up their aprons, which they filled with missiles.
Sister Jeanne does not omit a single detail in her narrative, for it is
of this that she is most proud. Some of these women had stationed
themselves at the windows to crush the evangelicals at the moment of
battle by pouring their missiles down upon them; but the more determined
marched with the children to the Molard, where they arrived with loud
shouts. Strange madness! as if God who requires in the Christian woman
_a meek and quiet spirit_, and forbids her to be adorned 'with braided
hair and costly array,' did not all the more forbid her to arm herself
with stones and march to battle. Frenzied and guilty women! Some
huguenots, observing them from afar, asked with astonishment what could
be the meaning of such a singular assemblage. They seemed to resemble
those druidesses who (as it is related) when their sanctuary was
threatened, ran to and fro along the shore of the lake, in black robes
with hair dishevelled, and waving torches in their hands.[671]
Delighted at the sight, the priests, unwilling to be behindhand,
exclaimed: 'We will be the first to defend our spouse the Church.' There
were about one hundred and sixty armed priests in the square. If the
clergy and women set the example, shall the citizens remain behind? The
whole body assembled at the Molard shouted again and again 'Forward,
forward!' The syndics did not incline to attack, but the excited crowd
carried them away.[672] The plan was to march to Baudichon's house,
where the huguenots had assembled, to set fire to it, and thus, having
forced them to come out, to murder them as they were escaping from the
flames by the doors and windows.[673] Citizens, priests, women and even
children, wished to have the privilege of being the first to strike
Maisonneuve, Salomon, and their friends; torrents of heretical blood
were to flow in the streets. 'Forward!' they repeated, but amid the
general agitation the beautiful plumes that ornamented the syndic's hat
remained stationary. Baud wishing to temporise, and to avoid bloodshed,
refused to give the signal: 'To be more sure,' he said, 'and in order
that none may escape from our hands, let us wait for the corps from St.
Gervais.'[674] The syndic still hoped that the reformed would lay down
their arms and surrender at discretion to an imposing force.
[Sidenote: FEELINGS OF THE REFORMED.]
The reformed assembled in Baudichon's house on the left bank of the
river, at the corner of the streets of the Allemands and of the
Corraterie (about 450 paces from the Molard) had gradually seen their
numbers increase. Many of their friends, who at first desired to remain
at home, observing the danger that threatened their brethren, had come
to their help, determined to conquer or die with them. The enthusiasm
had spread even to the children and excited them to acts of devotedness
beyond their years. 'A young apprentice went there, in spite of father,
mother, and priests, and exhorted them all to be of good cheer.'[675]
The elder portion were not blind to the gravity of the situation, but
they remained firm, being full of confidence in God. 'As a spark,' they
said, 'may suddenly set fire to a whole city, so Geneva has in an
instant been stirred up to riot.... But let not our hearts be troubled;
the Lord holds the tempests and whirlwinds in His hand, and can appease
them whenever He pleases.'
Sinister omens might intimidate them. They had before them the unhappy
Vandel, faint and bleeding.... They approached the wounded young man
with compassion. 'See,' they said, 'see how the bishop and his officers
treat the best citizens.' Noticing the paleness of his face, they
despaired of his life, and gloomy thoughts filled their hearts.
[Sidenote: PRAYER OF THE REFORMED.]
This was not the only presage of the danger that threatened them; the
shouts of the catholics, increasing in violence, reached even there.
They looked at each other with astonishment and even with alarm. 'What
fury!' they said; 'how large a number against so few!' And some of them
added: 'If God be not for us, we are undone.' But others, changing the
words, answered: '_If God be for us, who can be against us?_' De la
Maisonneuve was the firmest. Possessing a quick and even violent temper,
an enthusiast for liberty and truth, he was at this solemn hour calm,
thoughtful, and christianlike. No one was more exposed than he: his
house was to be as it were the battle-field; but forgetful of self, he
went up to such as were dejected and said: 'We must show our
magnanimity, even should they drive us to despair. The wicked are
already erecting triumphal arches ... in the air. God does not look to
numbers, be they great or small, but to the cause for which they fight.
If we are under the banner of Jesus, God will be a wall of brass to us.'
These words encouraged such as were shaken, and gave joy to their
afflicted hearts; and scarcely had Baudichon uttered them than those who
stood round him fell on their knees and bowed before the Lord. One of
them prayed: 'O God, thou givest the rein to the wicked only so far as
is necessary to try us. Stop them, therefore, and restrain them, lest
they hurt us. Change the hearts of our enemies, and look only to the
cause for which we are going to fight.' This simple prayer availed more
than a _Salve Regina_. Rising from their knees, the friends of the
Reform stretched out their hands and said: 'We swear to die in God's
cause, and to keep faith and loyalty with one another.' And, like the
martyrs of the early ages, they waited for the blow with which they were
threatened, because they refused to abandon the Gospel which God was
then restoring to Christendom.
While the evangelicals were praying, the band so impatiently expected
from St. Gervais began to cross the bridge at last. The ex-syndic
Jean-Philippe, now captain-general, who inclined to the Reform from
political motives, being called by his office to repress all disorder,
had taken his post between the bridge and the city, near Baudichon's
house, and those who belonged to neither party had rallied round him.
Just as the corps from the suburb was debouching from the bridge and
entering the city, Philippe ordered them to return. At these words their
leader, Bellessert the butcher, furious at the attempt to stop him, flew
into a passion, and with horrible oaths struck the captain-general so
violently with his halberd that he fell to the ground. At the instant
Claude de Genève, and other citizens who followed Philippe, dashed
forward to meet the assailants; the captain sprang to his feet, and,
turning sword in hand upon the man who had struck him, wounded
Bellessert. At the same time, his followers, hitting right and left,
drove the St. Gervaisians back upon the bridge. The latter attempted in
vain to resume the offensive; Philippe's troop did not give them time to
breathe. Many had been wounded, and disorder was in their ranks; they
were too proud and violent to give way if they had not suffered much
loss. At last they fled and returned dejected to their houses.[676] The
captain's followers immediately closed the bridge gate to prevent the
people of the suburb from returning into the city.[677]
This measure exposed the reformed in St. Gervais to some danger. Aimé
Levet lived, as we have said, at the other end of the bridge. His wife,
distressed at the struggle and the wounds her brethren were about to
give and to receive, had gone out, imprudently perhaps, and standing in
the street, tried to discover what was going on. At this moment, the
catholic women of the quarter, inflamed by the sight of their idol
Bellessert's wounds, and determined not to be behind the women of the
city in warlike zeal, caught sight of Claudine Levet, to whom they
attributed all the mischief. With a loud cry they rushed upon her,
exclaiming: 'Let us begin the war by throwing this dog into the Rhone.'
Claudine, seeing the furies coming, uttered a shriek, and 'being
tricky,' according to Sister Jeanne, returned hastily into the house and
shut the door. It was certainly a very lawful _trick_. The catholic
women instantly moved to attack it: but much as they tried to break the
door down, they could not succeed. They then vented their fury on the
apothecary's drugs: at first they took what served for show, and then
entering the shop 'threw them all contemptuously into the street.'[678]
This expedition against the drugs did not calm them: leaving the shop
and standing in front of the house, they turned their angry eyes to
Claudine's windows and used insulting language. Madame Levet remained
calm in the midst of the uproar, and 'raised her thoughts to heaven,
where she found great matter of joy to blot out all her sorrows.' At
last the catholics retired, 'very wroth because they could not get at
this woman or any other.' Claudine was saved.[679]
[Sidenote: PLAN TO BURN OUT THE HUGUENOTS.]
While this was going on, the third band expected at the Molard, that
headed by Canon Veigy, had assembled in the upper part of the city. The
immobility of the reformers, who did not leave Baudichon's house,
fretted the canon and those whom he commanded. 'They keep themselves
still as hares,' he said: 'we must compel them to leave their form.'
This they prepared to do. It had been decided, as we have said, by Moine
and his friends, the chiefs of the movement, that they should surround
and set fire to Baudichon's house, so that the heretics should be
stifled, burnt, driven out, and dispersed. In the opinion of some it was
a capital idea of the huguenots to shut themselves up in one house, for
by this means a single match would suffice to get rid of them.... But
the plan of fire-raising was not to everybody's taste. 'It cannot be
done without great mischief,' said the wiser heads; 'the whole street
might be burnt down.'... The barbarous plan had, however, been resolved
on, and its execution entrusted to Canon Veigy's corps. It was a
churchman who had been charged with the cruel duty. 'Canon de Veigy was
to pass through the narrow street of the Trois Rois,[680] behind the
Rhone, set fire to Baudichon's house, and drive _the others_ into the
street, so that they could escape nowhere.'[681]
The canon's band was preparing to descend into the city to perform its
task, when some catholics, running to the hôtel-de-ville, announced the
defeat of the troops from St. Gervais. 'We may expect a similar
encounter,' said the canon and his subordinates; and being not at all
eager to measure weapons with the captain-general, they resolved to join
the crowd on the Molard, by passing to the east, in order to be out of
the reach of Philippe's attack, and to have a reinforcement to burn the
huguenots. Changing their direction, they descended by the Rue Verdaine.
When they arrived at the Molard, they were very ill received. Everybody
reproached them, calling them cowards and traitors. The priest-party
were 'greatly astonished and vexed because they had not set fire to the
house, as had been agreed upon.'[682]
[Sidenote: HUGUENOTS ON THE DEFENSIVE.]
The news of this scheme for burning them out had reached the citadel of
the reformed. Maisonneuve and his friends hesitated no longer. Thus far
they had responded to the fury of their adversaries by remaining quiet;
they desired as much as possible to spare the effusion of blood; but now
their moderation became useless. At first they had been only sixty,
their numbers had increased, but they were still inferior to their
adversaries: they determined, however, to repel force by force.[683]
They sallied forth, therefore, calm and silent, for they felt the
gravity of the moment. On arriving in the Rue des Allemands they drew up
in line of battle five deep, according to the Swiss practice. The front
rank was about 250 paces from the enemy. They were determined not to
take the offensive. 'We will wait for our adversaries,' they said; 'but
if they attack us, we will sooner die than retreat a single step.'
Although they were, as we have said, by no means numerous in comparison
with the several catholic bands, they were firm and full of hope. There
were neither priests, women, nor children with them to embarrass them:
all were stout, resolute, disciplined men, who feared not to fight one
against ten. They did not, however, place their confidence in their
strength; they did 'not turn from one side to the other to set their
hopes in vain things;' the most pious among them 'repeated that there
was not one spark of certain help for them except in God alone.'
The fight was about to begin. The reformed, knowing that the city
artillery had been surrendered by the Bossu to their adversaries and
pointed at the Molard, had procured some cannon, probably by the
intervention of the captain-general. The huguenots marching boldly on
two sides of the great square, had planted their guns—some in the Rue du
Rhone, others in the Rue du Marché, only ninety paces from the
catholics. On each side the artillery was ready to be discharged, the
arquebuses were loaded, the spears and halberds were in the hands of the
combatants, the women and children of the Romish party were bringing
stones. There were transports of anger, cries, and terrible
threats.[684] All were prepared for the onset, and a massacre seemed
inevitable.[685]
At this moment the sound of a trumpet was heard; it was not the signal
of battle, but the prelude: the city crier, stopping at the corner of
some neighbouring street, proclaimed, 'that every foreigner should
retire to his lodging under pain of three lashes with a rope.' In this
way they cleared the place where the battle was to be fought. The
trumpet and the crier's shrill voice soon died away, and there was a
deathlike silence. On each side there were noble souls, lovers of peace,
who were a prey to the deepest emotions at the thought that brothers
were about to attack brothers, and many turned a sorrowful look on the
streets that were soon to be stained with the blood of their
fellow-citizens. These compassionate men would have liked to restrain
the fratricidal arms, but they trembled before the priests. 'No one,'
says a contemporary, 'dared venture to speak to the ecclesiastics to
propose peace; the great pride of the priests intimidated them, and they
feared to be called Lutherans.'[686] To desire to prevent the shedding
of blood, was to be a partisan of the Reformation.[687] The parties cast
threatening glances at each other, and the two armies were about to come
into violent collision.
[Sidenote: PRAYERS AND TEARS.]
Then the agony burst forth. Some of the wives, mothers, and daughters,
who were in the Place du Molard, and who up to this moment had been full
of ardour for the combat, were moved and could not restrain their
anguish. The tenderness of their sex resumed its sway: they let go their
aprons, and the stones contained in them fell to the ground. They burst
into tears and gave utterance to long and sorrowful moaning. 'Alas!'
they said, 'the father is armed against the son, brother against
brother, neighbour against neighbour.... They are all ready to kill one
another.'[688] The emotion became almost universal.
Whilst many of the catholic women were thus transformed, the evangelical
women who remained at home were praying. They reflected that, however
the world may torment and vex, nothing can happen but what God Himself
has ordained. They put the immutable decree of the Lord, who wills to
maintain the kingdom of His Son for ever, in opposition to the wicked
conspiracies by which the men of the world assail it, and doubted not
that God would look upon and help them in their necessity.
'It was God's will,' said Froment, 'to avoid bloodshed, and He ordained
it accordingly.'[689]
[656] Froment, _Gestes_, p. 51.
[657] 'The standards of the king go forth.'—Rambach, _Anthologie
christliche Gesänge_, i. 104. The use Dante made of the first line of
this hymn is well known:
Vexilla Regis prodeunt Inferni.—_Inferno_, xxxiv. 1.
[658] La Sœur J. de Jussie, _Le Levain du Calvinisme_, p. 53.
[659] Ibid. Froment, _Gestes_, &c. p. 51.
[660] Council Registers, _ad diem_.—Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 51.
Gautier MS.
[661] La Sœur J. de Jussie, _Le Levain du Calvinisme_, p. 51. The
number is probably exaggerated.
[662] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 52.—La Sœur J. de Jussie,
_Le Levain du Calvinisme_, p. 53.—Roset MS., liv. ii. ch. viii.
[663] La Sœur J. de Jussie, _Le Levain_, &c. p. 53.
[664] Ibid. p. 57.
[665] La Sœur J. de Jussie, _Le Levain_, &c. p. 57.
[666] Roset MS. _Chron._
[667] La Sœur J. de Jussie, _Le Levain_, &c. p. 54.
[668] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 54.—La Sœur J. de Jussie,
_Le Levain du Calvinisme_, p. 54.—Roset MS., _Chron._ liv. ii.
ch. x.—Gautier MS.—Chonpard MS.
[669] Ibid.
[670] La Sœur J. de Jussie, _Le Levain_, &c. p. 54.
[671] La Sœur J. de Jussie, _Le Levain du Calvinisme_, pp. 54,
55.—Gautier MS.
[672] 'Plebs mota syndicos codem traxit.'—Turretini manuscript in the
library at Berne.
[673] 'Civis cujusdam domus concursu facto petitur; jam tormenta majora
dirigebantur.'—Turretini MS.
[674] La Sœur J. de Jussie, _Le Levain du Calvinisme_, pp. 54,
55.—Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 50.—Gautier MS.
[675] Choupard MS.
[676] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 52.—Council Registers of the
28th March, 1534.—La Sœur J. de Jussie, _Le Levain du Calvinisme_,
p. 54.—Gautier MS.
[677] Ibid.
[678] La Sœur J. de Jussie, _Le Levain_, &c. p. 57.
[679] Ibid.
[680] The Three Kings may still be seen carved over the gate of the
large house (called Trois Rois) in Bel Air.
[681] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 53.
[682] Choupard MS.—Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, pp. 52-54.—Gautier MS.
[683] 'Erumpunt qui convenerant a protestantibus, vim vi
repulsaturi.'—Turretini MS. at Berne.
[684] 'Clamor, saxa, minæ, furor.'—Turretini MS.
[685] Utrinque ad cædes in proximo.'—Ibid.
[686] Froment, _Gestes_, &c. p. 54.
[687] Ibid.
[688] Froment, _Gestes_, &c. p. 54.
[689] Ibid. p. 55.