CATASTROPHE.
(BEGINNING OF JULY, 1533.)
While these fine liberal theories were being proclaimed at the hôtel de
ville and hailed with joy by noble minds, some enemies of the Reform
maintained that they were only got up for the occasion, because the
reformed were not yet the strongest party, and the bulk of the people,
who looked upon them as mere trash, was occupied with other things. The
report grew stronger every day that the bishop had made up his mind at
last, that his resolution was not to be shaken, and that in obedience to
the pope he was about to return to Geneva. The liberty so lately
proclaimed was, therefore, seriously endangered.
[Sidenote: PREPARATIONS TO RECEIVE THE BISHOP.]
Every preparation was made for the reception of the prince, whose
approaching arrival began to turn people's heads, as usually happens in
such a case. Priests, mamelukes, and ducal partisans believed that the
hour of their triumph was at hand, and that independence and Reform
would be effectually buried. Every man who owned a horse had him
dressed, as no one was permitted to go and meet the bishop on foot.[745]
The trumpeters rehearsed, the artillerymen got out their guns. Jacques
de Malbuisson, one of the chiefs of the catholic party, thinking that
there was nothing too fine for a bishop and prince, especially for one
who was bringing to the city, as a token of welcome, submission to the
pope in religious matters, and to an ecclesiastical sovereign in
temporal matters, hung the walls of the episcopal palace with beautiful
tapestry, covered the tables and floors with silk and woollen cloth, and
filled the rooms with rich furniture. Pierre de la Baume had appointed
him quartermaster, and the good catholic intended that the beauty of the
decorations should make the Genevans comprehend the greatness of their
prince.
If a servile crowd was preparing to sacrifice to a priest the liberties
of the people and the Word of God, those who esteemed these treasures
far above all others, anticipated with sorrow that all the old vexations
were about to be revived. The Two Hundred were assembled: one proud
huguenot, jealous of the political liberties, could not contain himself,
and rising in the Council, said: 'There is a report that the mamelukes
who deserted the city some seven years ago are to escort the bishop and
return with him: I ask if it is true?' Instantly the storm broke out.
Some said 'Yes!' others 'No!' The debate grew warm; they provoked and
abused each other, gave one another the lie, and used very irritating
language.[746] At last the huguenots conquered, and the Two Hundred
ordered that the mamelukes should not be allowed to enter, for fear that
there should be discord instead of harmony in the city.
The syndics foresaw that such a resolution would probably excite
confusion in the procession accompanying the bishop; and as they wished
to avoid all disputes, they sought an opportunity for bringing men's
minds together. Assembling the leaders of the opposing parties, they
entreated them, as a sign of peace, to dine together. Such a banquet,
they thought, would reconcile factions and dissipate the fears of the
prelate. It was an _argumentum ad hominem_. How could Pierre de la Baume
be afraid of men who drank together? Libations were indeed copiously
poured out in honour of concord, for the Genevans were always ready in
this respect; but the convictions of the two parties remained the same.
Wine had no power to change either the champions of the pope or of the
people, neither the Guelphs nor the Ghibelines.[747]
On Tuesday, 1st of July, the prince-bishop descended the Jura, attended
by his chancellors, the president De Gevigny and many of the nobility,
meditating the counter-revolution he hoped to bring about. The Friburg
deputies, 'knowing the prelate's timid humour,'[748] went to meet him at
Gex, in order to protect his entrance. They turned back with him and
drew near the city. This event, which filled the catholics with joy, was
a great trouble to the proud huguenots and pious evangelicals, and
nearly broke their hearts. The procession seemed to them like a funeral
train. Were independence, liberty, the growing Reform—those inestimable
riches which are the life of man—to be carried like a dead body to the
grave? Were those bells, just beginning to ring, tolling a funeral
knell? Everything seemed to point that way.
Just as the brilliant escort that was riding out to meet the bishop
crossed the bridge over the Rhone, a troop of about fourscore catholics
appeared, all carrying arquebuses. The premier syndic, who was watching
them with uneasy look, ordered them to return. 'We are going to our
prince,' answered they with spirit. The magistrates and their escort
lost sight of them for a few moments, but the troop was again visible
when the procession got out of the city. 'They are the most violent of
the party,' said some of the syndic's followers. 'They will play us some
scurvy trick.' A second time the syndic ordered them to return, and a
second time they answered, 'We are going to our prince,' and continued
their way.
[Sidenote: THE BISHOP'S ENTRANCE.]
The cortège having proceeded half a league from the city, waited for the
bishop, who came in sight about four in the afternoon. By his side were
the magistrates of Friburg, and behind him the chiefs of the mamelukes,
banished from Geneva but proud of braving those who had expelled them.
The intimidated syndics dared not forbid their entrance into the city.
Nor was this all: the fourscore arquebusiers surrounded the prelate,
assuming the duty of a body-guard. The bells rang out, the artillery
roared, and the friends of the clergy shouted repeated _vivats_. The
throne was regaining strength; the majesty of the prince enhanced its
splendour, and His Highness inspired respect in all who saw him.[749]
These bursts of joy soon came to an end. The bishop had hardly entered
the city, when its appearance changed. New faces were seen
everywhere—faces which seemed to breathe of nothing but revenge. At
night conferences were held at the palace, among the canons and the
other partisans of despotic rule. Everyone talked about the horrible
resolutions come to in these meetings—it was all the same whether the
resolutions were true or fictitious. Many of the reformed were
exceedingly distressed. 'The heretics felt great contrition,' says
Sister Jeanne, 'for they knew full well that the bishop brought no good
to them, but would injure them as much as he could.'[750]
The prelate was firmly resolved to have recourse, if necessary, to
force, banishment, and death. But his character and interests inclined
him also to accomplish peacefully, if he could, the great revolution he
so strongly desired. He wished to act in such a way that appearances at
least should be on his side.
Desiring to give his restoration the double sanction of religion and
policy, the bishop ordered a grand procession for Thursday, 3rd July,
after which a general council of the people should be held. The
procession took place: canons, priests, and friars, walking in order,
sang or chanted their litanies with great fervour, and prayed that God
and the Virgin would be pleased to preserve the holy Roman Catholic
Church in Geneva. When the singing was over, the general council was
held. The refugees, who had forgotten nothing and learnt nothing, would
have preferred a prompt and vigorous repression to this liberal meeting;
but the bishop was unwilling to begin by imprisoning citizens. Besides,
the impatient exiles would lose nothing by waiting.[751]
[Sidenote: THE BISHOP AT THE GENERAL COUNCIL.]
All the bishop's partisans proceeded proud and joyful to the council of
the people; the magistrates with uneasiness, and a few huguenots with
sad and suffering looks. As soon as the assembly was formed, the prelate
appeared, attended by his nobles. He was determined to claim full
sovereign power in Geneva, and to take it by force if it were disputed.
Two great principles—the good pleasure of the prince and the
constitutions of the people—met face to face on the 3rd of July, in the
general council of Geneva. La Baume had taken his precautions; he had
brought several distinguished men with him from Franche Comté, and among
them the bailiff of Dôle, a learned and eloquent magistrate. This
orator, imagining to win the Genevans by flattering and flowery
language, delivered a very fine oration; but his Burgundian eloquence
produced no great effect upon the huguenots. After him the prince-bishop
came forward, and, speaking with a fine clear voice and in very
intelligible language, he asked the syndics and the people whether they
recognised him for their prince and lord. The question was skilfully
put. If they answered _No_, they made themselves rebels, and severe
measures became lawful; while, if they answered _Yes_, they surrendered
to the prelate, and all was over with liberty and the Gospel. The
magistrates, who were careful not to fall into a trap, saw that it was
necessary to make a distinction. Convinced that they held their
charters, franchises, and legislation from God quite as much as the
prince did his power, they made a reserve. 'Certainly, my lord,' they
replied, 'we regard you as our prince, and are ready to obey you; _but
in adopting for guide our liberties, customs, and franchises, written
and unwritten, which we beg you to respect, as you promised to do a long
while ago_.'[752] The embarrassed bishop-prince thought it essential not
to open up the delicate question of the constitution he had ratified,
and, letting alone for the moment all that concerned his temporal power,
he spoke only as a bishop, and delivered to the Genevans a devout
exhortation on the salvation of their souls. In reality, the great
object of his terror was the Reformation; the great desire of his heart
was the triumph of the papacy. 'Have the fear of God before your eyes,'
he said, 'and keep the commandments of holy Church.' He knew full well
that 'holy Church' would recommend the people to recognise his power
without any restriction. He pronounced these words 'in so devout and
humble a manner that everybody wept, and the general council broke up
without dispute or tumult, for which God be praised.'[753]
[Sidenote: THE CHARTERS CONSULTED.]
The Genevans were not, however, ready to bend their necks to receive the
yoke the bishop presented to them. The various members of the assembly
had hardly dispersed before the agitation broke out. Huguenots and
independent catholics declared boldly and with one accord that they
would maintain the constitution; the courtiers and mamelukes alone
supported the absolute privileges of the prelate. 'No despotic power,'
said one party. 'No resistance to the orders of our prince,' said the
other. Offended at the new pretensions of the bishop, the citizens
resolved to oppose him with the antique monuments of their liberty.
There was a vaulted chamber in the hôtel de ville called the _Grotto_,
in which the venerable charters of the Genevan people were enclosed
under many bolts and bars. Not suffering themselves to be disturbed by
the arbitrariness of the bishop, by the eloquence of his orators, or the
terrible bands of Friburg and Turin, the citizens determined to consult
the sacred documents of their franchises. The syndics proceeded to the
Grotto; the rusty bolts yielded to the stout arms of their officers;
they took out the noble parchments of their ancestors, and all eyes were
eagerly turned upon the title-deeds in which were inscribed the duties,
rights, and liberties of the people. The roll was placed upon the table;
it was unfolded, and, while the others listened, one of the magistrates
read the words written therein. 'In the name of the holy, perfect, and
undivided Trinity, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.' Could the bishop
trample under foot a charter which reposed on so sacred a foundation?
The magistrate continued his examination. This document, drawn up by
Bishop Adhemar in 1387, contained (to use its own words) 'the liberties,
franchises, and immunities which the citizens of Geneva have enjoyed so
long that the memory of man runneth not to the contrary.' The Genevans
were moved, and passing the parchment from hand to hand, read certain
portions of it, and swore to defend their rights.[754]
The syndics having no doubt that these old documents would be received
by the bishop with the profoundest respect, quitted the hôtel de ville,
carrying their venerable charters with them, which they laid before the
prelate. They pointed out to him the immunities that were secured to
them, and withdrew full of hope. But Pierre de la Baume did not care the
least for these old papers, and would not give himself the trouble to
decipher such disagreeable documents: he was in a hurry to see them
restored to the cellar where they had slept so long. He intended to
govern after a more modern fashion. The Reformation, on the other hand,
was about to be accomplished by maintaining, in opposition to episcopal
usurpation, the most lawful rights of the most ancient liberty.[755]
[Sidenote: DESPOTIC PLANS.]
The bishop no longer hesitated. When he had asked the general council to
recognise his sovereignty, the magistrates had replied by limiting it
according to the constitutions of the people. It was necessary therefore
to renounce all idea of reigning with mildness, and to govern by force.
Pierre de la Baume was not the first bishop excluded from his episcopal
city, who had reentered it with thoughts of violence. Tales of
unheard-of cruelties had been imprinted on the memory of the people. In
the tenth century, the bishop of Cambray having been driven from his
city by the burgesses who were exasperated against him, had returned
with foreign soldiers; and these mercenaries, the ministers of his
revenge, had pursued the citizens even into the churches, killing some,
cutting off the hands and feet of others, putting out the eyes of some,
and branding many on the forehead with a red-hot iron.[756] About two
centuries later, another bishop also returning forcibly into his city,
his followers had seized one of the most respected and wealthy citizens,
notwithstanding the promise to spare his life, and had fastened him by
the feet to the tail of a horse, which they forced into a gallop.[757]
The bishop of Geneva did not purpose imitating these episcopal
proceedings; manners, though rude, were softened; he meant to content
himself with less. He would have the principal supporters of the
Reformation and of Geneva seized, and would get rid of them simply by
the sword—either in Geneva, as in the case of Berthelier, or in some
lonely castle, as in the case of Levrier. Then the prince-bishop would
exercise, without control and in his own way, that sovereignty which
appeared to him absolutely necessary in order to stifle the
protestantism of some and the independence of others.
Freed from the importunate antiquarians who put their trust in dusty
charters, the bishop began to prepare for the execution of his designs.
He counted his forces and felt sure of victory. In the first place there
was the Council, which, being mostly catholic, supported him at heart;
then there were the priests and their adherents; then the Friburgers;
then the banished mamelukes, and finally a certain class of people,
skilful in the use of the arquebuse, 'and who would handle it well,'
said the bishop. The total of his partisans being thus reckoned, the
bishop enquired who were the huguenot chiefs he ought to get rid of. It
is hardly probable that La Baume did this alone or simply aided by one
of his secretaries or officers of justice. Weakness was one of the most
marked features of his character; he had no energy, although he
sometimes pretended the contrary. But those around him made up for it.
The proscription that he was about to carry into execution was
essentially due to the encouragements and solicitations of the enemies
of the Reformation and of independence. 'Finding himself strong and
powerful,' says a contemporary, 'both on the part of the Friburgers and
of the enemies of God and the city (namely, the mamelukes) who were now
within the walls, the bishop desired to exercise his tyranny.'[758] Some
of his friends shrank from such severity, and would have desired to
divert him from it; but the most violent men prevailed. 'My lord,' they
said, 'must exercise his power against certain citizens and burgesses,
and by this means extirpate and eradicate the Lutheran sect and
heresy.'[759]
[Sidenote: PROSCRIPTIONS.]
The proscribed were selected indifferently from among the evangelicals
and huguenots. One of the first pointed at was Chautemps. He was not
only a heretic, but his children had been trained up in heresy, and he
had kept for a long time in his house Olivetan, the translator of the
Bible, who had dared reprimand a dominican preacher in full church. Aimé
Levet came next; at his house the religious meetings were most
frequently held. Pierre Vandel—youngest son of that Claude, whom twenty
years before Bishop John of Savoy had cast into prison[760]—a man of
resolute character, readily putting himself in the foreground, was
joined with the other two. Ami Perrin did not belong to the evangelicals
properly so called, but he had been the chief of the four huguenots
whose zeal for controversy had proved so embarrassing to the vicar of
the Madeleine, and passed for the boldest of all the band. Others were
afterwards pointed out: Jean Pecolat, an ill-sounding name in episcopal
ears; Domaine d'Arlod, Jean Veillard, Anthonin Derbey, Henry Doulens,
Jacques Fichet, Claude de Genève, and Philibert de Compey, a nobleman in
high esteem. Although a Savoyard and of gentle birth, Philibert was
huguenot at heart; the count of Genevois took advantage of the
opportunity to confiscate all his lands and lordships, 'and the poor
pervert was deprived of his property,' says a contemporary. There were
still a few more whose arrest was determined on, and among them Pasta
and Rozetta.[761] The bishop and his friends, all full of zeal, hoped to
catch other citizens after these;[762] but they thought it prudent not
to do everything at once. If the first attempt succeeded, they would
follow it up by a second, and would lay their hands upon such citizens
as they had not thought of at first. 'I have proscribed all those whom I
can remember; those whom I have forgotten I will proscribe as they recur
to my mind.' This saying of a great master in the art, found its
application in Geneva.[763]
The bishop, having ended his first task, began to consider how he could
lay hold of the proscribed, which was no easy matter. The most natural
way would have been to capture each of them in his own house; but he
feared, that if he went to work in that fashion, some would hide
themselves, others would escape, and others would be rescued in the
streets. The alarm would spread in a moment, and the daring huguenots
would entrench themselves in Baudichon de la Maisonneuve's house. Above
all, Pierre de la Baume was wanting in frankness; he excelled, whenever
he pleased, in appearing amiable to those whom he hated. He resolved to
give them an invitation, and to hold out his hand graciously to the men
whose death he was plotting. He will invite them to his palace,
'trusting in his faith,' but without keeping it.[764] He will thus take
them all by one cast of the net, then he will tie the knot, and the poor
wretches shall leave the saloons of the palace only to descend to its
dungeons. It was thought an excellent stratagem, and preparations were
made for carrying it out.
The next day, July 5th, the bishop's officers called on the citizens
entered in the black list, and in his name gave them an invitation,
which must have appeared to them either a great honour or a treacherous
snare. If any of them raised objections, the messengers assured them, in
the prelate's name, that no harm would come to them. Some through
candour, others from ignorance, and others also from rashness, proceeded
to the episcopal palace. They had put on their finest suits and wore
their swords. What could the bishop want with them?... Probably to
obtain some concessions, and they were firmly decided not to make any.
Others, who were more clear-sighted or more prudent, took to flight. The
clerical riots which had preceded the bishop's coming, the
unsatisfactory company by which he was surrounded, and the demands he
had made—all combined to give food for thought to minds possessed of any
discernment. Women, more keen or more timid, generally see clearer in
such cases than men: their conjugal love takes the alarm. It would
appear that Claudine Levet and Jaquéma Chautemps felt all the tender
solicitude of their sex, and conjured their husbands not to place
themselves in the cruel hands of the bishop, and to quit their homes,
their children, and their country which they could now serve better
abroad. These two excellent christians were among the number of those
who escaped. Maisonneuve, against whom the mamelukes were much
irritated, set out for Berne, full of indignation against the bishop's
tyranny. To this city, next to God, he always looked for deliverance.
Several others also quitted Geneva.[765]
[Sidenote: HUGUENOTS ENTRAPPED.]
Meantime Perrin, D'Arlod, Vandel, and their friends proceeded to the
palace. The gates opened before them and they entered my lord's
antechambers. But they had hardly arrived, reckoning on the gracious
audience that had been promised them, when they were seized, heavily
fettered, and led away to the episcopal prison.[766] The impetuous
Perrin and the courageous Vandel were compelled to yield to force. The
bishop's officers took them down into the dungeons, and as if cords,
iron doors, and bolts were not enough, their feet were set in the stocks
and their hands were manacled.[767]
[Sidenote: CONJUGAL DEVOTION.]
When the news was told the prince-prelate, it was the pleasantest
tidings he had ever received. He breathed again, and yet he was not
entirely satisfied: he wanted some prisoners whom he had especially set
his heart upon—particularly Levet and Chautemps. But if the husbands had
disappeared, their wives might suffer for them. Pierre de la Baume
ordered Jaquéma Chautemps to be seized, but Claudine Levet remained at
liberty. Claudine was a pious christian woman, firm in faith but of
gentle character, and she was spared; but Jaquéma, who it will be
remembered was taught by Olivetan, possessed perhaps some of that
courageous decision which was found in Calvin's cousin and in Calvin
himself. Claudine was the woman of the New Testament; Jaquéma seems
rather to remind us of the heroines of the Old. It is to be regretted
that we have not the same information about her as about Claudine. At
all events she paid for her husband. The delicate woman, the wife of one
of the chief persons in the city, accustomed to the comforts of life,
used to the company of one of the most original French writers of the
day, the tutor to her children, was shut up in a narrow cell, and
treated roughly like a conspirator. Ancient and modern times have
witnessed more than one instance of conjugal devotion. Many wives,
seeing their husbands threatened with a cruel death, have been able to
say to them:
. . . . . . Et quel autre que moi
A le droit d'y prétendre et de mourir pour toi?[768]
The Reformation also has furnished many similar examples.
As part of the huguenot leaders were now in prison, the bishop and his
confidants deliberated what should be done with them. It was quite out
of the question to put them to death publicly in Geneva, like
Berthelier. The simplest way would be to behead them secretly in their
dungeons; but that would be known immediately, and would create terrible
excitement. 'They durst not kill them in the city for fear of the
people.'[769] The bishop's councillors proposed to send them out of
Geneva in a boat by night, and convey them either to Friburg, which was
calling for victims to avenge Wernli's death, or to the castle of
Chillon, where Bonivard was shut up, or to Jussy near Mount Voiron, or
lastly to the strong castle of Gaillard at the foot of the Salève, 'and
there do as they pleased with them.'[770] They decided on the last plan,
and orders were given for carrying it out.
Thus everything proceeded to the bishop's satisfaction. As some of the
principal huguenots were about to be sent out of Geneva, it became
necessary 'to catch other citizens after them and serve them the same,'
that is, carry them also out of the city; for the fear of the people
continually pursued the bishop. He was planning how to continue the work
he had undertaken, when news was brought him which greatly troubled him.
One of his agents, commissioned by him to take note of everything that
occurred in the city, came and told him that not only Baudichon de la
Maisonneuve had escaped, but that he had gone to Berne to demand
help.... What a check! what danger! If the fugitive brings back the
Bernese, they will undertake the defence of heresy ... it will triumph.
The harder the blow which La Baume desired to strike, the more dangerous
would it be if it failed. He was therefore in great alarm and in a great
passion also. He ordered his officers to pursue those who had escaped,
to take horses so as to catch them up, and to bring them back bound to
prison where their friends awaited them. But he did not rest satisfied
with sending after the fugitives such persons as were under his own
orders, he wanted others to track them down, to catch them in the rear
or in front: this induced him to make a very extraordinary demand.
As soon as the syndics had heard of the arrest of some of the most
notable of the citizens, they had summoned the council. Astounded at the
tyrannical act, and alarmed for the future of the republic, they
deliberated what was to be done. Should they abandon their
fellow-citizens to the illegal vengeance of the bishop, or should they
revolt against their prince? They were plunged into silent stupor when a
messenger from the bishop appeared. No doubt he had come to give some
explanation, to make an excuse, and perhaps to declare that the bishop
would withdraw his fatal decree! No such thing: the council soon learnt
that he was charged with an extraordinary message.
[Sidenote: STRANGE REQUEST OF THE BISHOP.]
The episcopal messenger, having made the customary salutations, said:
'My lord has decided to send his officers beyond the frontiers to take
certain _criminals_ (this was the term he applied to those noble
citizens). Our very reverend prince therefore requires the council to
lend him some of the city officers to accompany his own and pursue the
fugitives in the territory of Savoy.' This was too much. De la Baume
required the magistrates of Geneva to employ in oppressing citizens the
power they had received to defend them. Such an audacious proposition
disgusted the syndics; they did not hesitate to refuse his demand;
desiring, however, to keep on good terms with him to the last, they gave
a specious motive for their refusal. 'Pray pardon us,' they answered the
bishop, 'if we cannot do it; we should be afraid lest the duke, whose
territories our officers would have to enter, should be angry with us
for violating the treaties.' This refusal threw him into a great
passion. He believed, perhaps not without reason, that the duke of Savoy
would overlook the violation of territory, as its object was to catch
huguenots. 'Return,' he said to his officer, 'and tell those gentlemen
to do justice, and that if they do not, there are fourscore in the city
who will help me to do it. Add, that they are to act straightforwardly.'
The magistrates remained firm. But the prelate found some little
consolation in the cooperation of people better disposed than the
syndics of Geneva to subserve his anger.[771]
Aimé Levet, instead of escaping by the right bank, on which his house
was situated, had chosen the left bank, and thrown himself into that
beautiful country which extends between the Rhone and the lake on one
side, and Mount Voiron and Mount Salève on the other, and where the wide
opening which these two mountains leave between them, permits the
traveller to contemplate the magnificent range of the Alps of Mont
Blanc. Was it Levet's wish to avoid taking the usual road of the
fugitives, on which he was sure to be arrested; or did he intend hiding
in the mountains, as the fine month of July invited him, to climb the
easy and graceful slope of the Voiron, or to scale, by the road called
l'Echelle (the ladder), the abrupt walls of Salève, whose enormous rocks
overhang the plain? That is possible; other fugitives had done so. Levet
wandered for some time in that part of the valley where the sandy
torrent of the Arve utters a low murmur; but, thinking only how he
should escape his persecutors, he had no leisure to contemplate the
dazzling vision of the Alps lighted up by a July sun, which made so
striking a contrast with the gloomy paths he was then traversing. He
knew that mamelukes, priests, ducal partisans, and above all, the Sire
de Montagny, castellan of Gaillard, would follow in his track. How
strange his destiny! Only a few months ago he had been a zealous
catholic, and then the surprising conversion of his wife had led to
his.... Now, he was wandering about as a fugitive, without a place where
to lay his head. We cannot tell all the anguish he went through, and all
the groans he uttered. He did not lose courage, however, for he knew Him
who was his protector, and who maintains the right. He was assured of
being able to stand before God and His angels at the very moment when
men were hunting him down. He had wolves behind him eager to tear him in
pieces, but 'God saves His poor sheep, even out of the jaws of the
lions.'[772]
[Sidenote: LEVET PURSUED AND TAKEN.]
They were indeed in pursuit of him. Messire de Charanzonay, a canon of
Geneva, had kept his eye on Levet: he knew that he had made off in the
direction of the mountains, and that he must be found either in the
bailiwick of Gaillard, or in the parish of Bonne. He had an interview,
therefore, with the castellan of Gaillard, M. de Montagny, a good
catholic and Savoyard, who furnished him with aid; a band of men left
the castle, and the chase began, the canon leading the way. Erelong,
poor Levet heard the footsteps of the people in search of him: he was
seized. The canon, eager to vent his anger, had him scourged without any
form of trial, and after he had been soundly beaten, sent him off to the
castle of Gaillard.[773] Levet, encompassed by guards, was conducted to
that fortress, situated at the point where the Arve, issuing from the
mountains, enters the plain, and where many an innocent man had been
imprisoned. The drawbridge fell and rose again, the massive gates
opened, the armed sentinels halted to see the huguenot pass, and at last
Levet, doubly guilty, as a liberal and as an evangelical, was thrown
into a deep dungeon. From that moment the husband's captivity assured
the liberty of the wife.
[Sidenote: FRIBURG DEPUTIES CALL FOR REVENGE.]
Other circumstances happening on the same day (6th of July) rejoiced the
bishop and his court, and put to the proof the firmness of the council
as well as the tranquillity of the citizens. A man sent from the Pays de
Vaud reported that a number of well-armed Friburgers had arrived at Nyon
and threatened Geneva. They were the avengers of Wernli's blood. 'Go and
tell the captain-general,' said the syndics, 'and bid him look to the
safety of the city.' Shortly after this, a citizen told the council that
the Friburgers who were in Geneva were preparing to set out for the
castle of Gaillard. Presently a third person came and informed the
syndics that the Friburgers were crossing the lake from Nyon, and that
their boats could be clearly distinguished from the upper part of the
city, making for the south. Finally, news came from Gaillard that
Wernli's relations, accompanied by a great number of Friburg
men-at-arms, had entered the fortress, vowing they would wash their feet
in the blood of the evangelicals. The council did not know what to do,
and the city was filled with apprehension.[774]
The extremes of anguish were felt in the homes of the prisoners. The
most sinister stories were propagated through the city as to the
severity employed by the bishop towards his captives. Some began to lose
courage and to ask—it was a question often put in the time of the
Reformation—why the disciples of the Gospel had to endure not only the
afflictions common to all men, but calamities from which their enemies
were exempt? 'Ah!' replied the wiser ones, 'the corn is first threshed
in the barn along with the straw; but afterwards it is pressed and
crushed alone on the millstone.'[775] All were not to be comforted, and
from many an afflicted house the cries of sorrow rose to heaven.
Meanwhile, the avoyers of Friburg pressed the council to grant to
Wernli's relations the justice they demanded, and insisted that the
Genevans arrested on the 23rd May and 4th June should be brought to
trial immediately. The mamelukes cried still louder than the Friburgers,
and demanded the trial of the eleven persons imprisoned on the 5th July.
While the case of the Friburgers was entirely judicial, that of the
mamelukes was political: they wished to take advantage of a trial to
effect a revolution. The council instructed the procurator-fiscal to
have the accused brought before him, as the Genevan constitution
required; but the fiscal declared he could not do so on account of the
order of the prince, who had cited the case before himself. The bishop
meant to be at once judge and interested party, and to substitute
clerical despotism for the protecting forms of the lay tribunals. The
alarmed magistrates immediately waited on the prince to make their
humble but resolute protest.[776]
Pierre de la Baume had just dined when the syndics appeared. 'I have
cited the cause before me,' he said: 'I have my reasons.' The syndics
represented to him that he might pardon men after sentence, but not try
accused persons, who must necessarily appear before the lawful
tribunals. 'I cite the case before me,' repeated the bishop. The
indignant syndics bowed and withdrew. Sebastian de Diesbach, the
banneret of Weingarten and other deputies from Berne, had arrived at
Geneva, and Baudichon de la Maisonneuve, as it seems, had returned with
them. The syndics prayed their intervention, and the Bernese spoke to
the bishop; but the passionate headstrong churchman would not listen to
them. He stretched the cord at the risk of breaking it. 'I have cited
the case before me,' he said again.
The spirit of blind fanaticism was felt in other places besides the
palace: it agitated the mamelukes, carried away the episcopalians and
even a few of the Friburgers. They had sworn the death of liberty and
the Reformation, and were already planning the means of preventing for
ever their return to Geneva. They went up and down the city, and were
quite indefatigable. As you looked at them you would have said—the
comparison was made at the time—that coming after the deluge, and
wishing to prevent the waters from invading their dwellings again, they
had said to one another: 'Let us build a tower whose top may reach unto
heaven.' 'They built the tower of Babel,' says a contemporary,
'presuming, like the giants, to fight against God.'
[Sidenote: ATTACKS ON HUGUENOTS.]
They did indeed come to blows. On that very day (7th July) some horsemen
of the episcopal party who were riding at Plainpalais in front of the
convent of their friends the Dominicans, saw three of the most
considerable of the Genevese citizens go past: they were Philippe the
captain-general, John Lullin afterwards syndic, and Francis Favre who
was a member of the ordinary council in the following year. The
cavaliers immediately rode at them, calling them traitors and Lutherans.
The three huguenots were hated and feared by the mamelukes, who knew
them to be men ready to sacrifice their lives for the ancient liberties
of their country. If they had not been included in the first
proscription, it was partly through fear, for their boldness was
indomitable; and also because it had been preferred to begin with pious
evangelicals like Chautemps and Levet. True, Ami Perrin had been
arrested; but without having undergone the great change which Scripture
calls 'a new birth,' he was still in the front rank whenever the cause
of the Reformation was in question. It was he who had actively protected
Farel. Besides the episcopal _sbirri_ could not well distinguish between
protestants who were such inwardly and those who were so outwardly only.
However, neither persecution nor insult abated the courage of the
citizens. They knew that God often suffers the wicked to act for a few
days, and permits them to raise high towers against his elect. Then on a
sudden he strikes the huge mass, he loosens the joints and scatters the
materials, so that the mighty edifice whose summit was to rise to heaven
falls into dust, and is scattered to the winds.
The syndics, being determined to resist the bishop and his usurpations,
convened the council of Sixty on the 8th July, and explained to them how
he purposed to place Geneva under the government of his good pleasure,
and by way of beginning, was preparing to try in his own court the
noblest of the citizens. The future that threatened Geneva filled the
assembly with emotion and fear. What was to be done? Resort to force,
policy, or diplomacy? The Genevans, in self-defence, looked for simpler
and more affecting means; they had recourse to one of those measures
which are almost unique in history, and exhale a perfume of antiquity.
[Sidenote: ELDERS OF GENEVA BEFORE THE BISHOP.]
There were in Geneva certain Nestors of liberty, who, uplifting their
hoary heads among three generations of their children, gave utterance to
words of wisdom. To these they had recourse. Councillors—their sons
probably—went to fetch them, and these venerable witnesses of the
ancient liberties entered the presence of the council, where seats were
placed for them. Although the vigour of their bodies was weakened, their
hearts now beat stronger for their country than in their younger days,
and their memory recalled to them distinctly the times of yore.
Accordingly, when they heard of the dangers by which the republic was
threatened, and of the bishop's intention to usurp judicial power, they
were filled with sadness and alarm. 'Criminal causes,' they said,
'belong to the civil magistrate; the practice has never varied in that
respect, and the bishop's claim to hear them himself is a novelty
without precedent.' The council of sixty resolved to send a deputation
to the prince, composed of the four syndics and six of these aged
citizens, who felt happy to bear, before they died, a last testimony to
the liberties of their country. If the bishop laughed at the ancient
papers of ancient Geneva, would he also laugh at these ancient men?
The deputation, proceeding slowly through the streets, took its way
towards the palace. The fathers of the country walked with tottering
steps, supported by the younger ones, and advanced towards the residence
of the haughty priest whom Rome had sent to the shores of the Leman, and
who was trampling under foot the most venerable rights. Never had men
going to plead the independence of a nation inspired more tenderness,
sympathy, and respect. People watched and blessed them as they passed,
and prayers were raised to heaven that God would accompany with his
strength this extraordinary step in favour of liberty.[777]
The bishop, informed of the movement, had desired to surround himself
with all that could give a specious appearance to his usurpations. And
accordingly, when they entered the hall, the deputation found not only
the prelate sitting in pomp—not only his councillors, officers, and the
ambassadors of Berne and Friburg ranged around him,—but also the
relatives of the canon. Pierre de la Baume paired the suppliants of
Friburg against the elders of Geneva. The syndics respectfully expressed
to him their surprise that he should appear to look upon the council
with suspicion, that several citizens of note had been thrown into
prison, and lastly that his lordship, contrary to the laws, had cited
the case before his own tribunal. But, while the elders turned a look at
once mild and penetrating upon the prince, and their hoary heads seemed,
as it were, to bring the old times before him, Wernli's relatives,
shaking their black garments, again called for vengeance, declaring that
the prince had promised to do them justice, and praying upon him to be
faithful to his word. 'Yes,' said the bishop immediately, 'yes, I cite
the cause before me.' The syndics, determined not to give up the most
venerated laws of the State, placed before him the ancient constitution
of the people, and pointing to the twelfth article, read as follows:
'That no inquisition upon lay malefactors, or other process whatsoever,
can or shall be held, except by summoning the four syndics and four
citizens of the said city of Geneva, who shall be chosen by the other
citizens.[778] And that the trial and sentence of the afore-named
malefactors belongs and shall belong to the aforesaid citizens, and not
to any other persons whatsoever.' The constitution having thus spoken,
the syndic ceased.
[Sidenote: THE BISHOP WILL NOT YIELD.]
Then the elders, who had hitherto kept silent, and whose grave, modest,
and firm looks inspired respect, came forward. One of them, speaking for
all, raised his trembling hands, 'and declared that such had always been
the law of Geneva, and that never in the course of their long lives had
they had the pain to see the prince trample it under foot.' The feeble
voices and calm looks of these venerable men added a strange, and one
might almost say a heavenly, force to their testimony. That humble
speech in favour of liberty possessed an eloquence more penetrating than
the most admirable orations of a Cicero or a Demosthenes. But, if
liberty had never been more touching, despotism had never been more
obstinate. The syndics conjured the bishop in vain, in the name of the
laws and of God, to surrender the prisoners to them, according to the
law, so that they might try them conformably with their office; Pierre
de la Baume kept repeating: 'I cannot, I have cited the cause before
me.' The Friburg ambassadors begged the syndics to consent to the
episcopal citation, 'for this time only,' but the magistrates of Geneva
were unwilling that the franchises of the city should be violated either
now or later. They quitted the bishop's palace with sorrow, and the six
elders followed them.[779]
When they arrived at the hôtel-de-ville, the council of sixty was still
sitting. They gave a faithful account of their mission. They reported
that the bishop-prince persisted in his iniquitous _non possumus_, and
although the council felt deep pain at hearing the statement, no one
flinched. These Genevans knew the fidelity that freemen owe to the
institutions of their ancestors. The ambassadors of Berne then asked to
be admitted. Importuned by their allies, the Friburgers, and by the
councillors of the bishop, these haughty Bernese, unfaithful to their
renown, had come to imagine that the Genevans might very well, for
_once_, on this solemn occasion, renounce their charter and their
rights. Sebastian de Diesbach therefore invited the council to try if
they could not 'consent to this citation, which the prelate positively
would not recal.' Thus the only allies of Geneva solicited them to enter
voluntarily upon the path of concessions.... The council deliberated,
and the Sixty were unanimous. Here is the resolution which the secretary
entered upon the register: 'Ordered to reply to My Lords of Berne, that
we will not consent to this citation, as it is entirely contrary to our
franchises, and resolved to ask them to be pleased to aid us with their
advice.' My Lords of Berne did not like to see their advice rejected,
but as they withdrew they said that such men deserved to be free.[780]
This new refusal exasperated the mamelukes. They were determined to use
Wernli's death as an instrument of war to beat down the ancient edifice
of Genevese liberties, to root up the foundations of the Reformation,
and to establish on the ruins their own theories concerning the absolute
power of the pope and the prince. Consequently they demanded the
convocation of the Two Hundred, hoping to find favourable voices among
them. The great council met the next day, and the Friburg ambassadors
appeared before it, attended by a great number of the relations and
friends of the canon—all dejected, gloomy, and silent, like the
suppliants of ancient times. It was not fanaticism which animated the
greater part of them. They had played with Wernli in their childhood;
they had loved him in their youth; they venerated his memory now that a
terrible catastrophe had stretched him dead in the streets of the city.
If they had been unable to defend him in the hour of danger, they wished
to do everything now the hour of vengeance was come. It was not
sufficient to have sprinkled his body with their tears, the blood of
victims must flow in the very spot where the martyr had been struck
down. 'Most honoured lords,' said the canon's brother, 'the justice
which men owe to one another is written on earth in the hearts of the
just; why, then, should you trample it under foot? You have not yet done
justice for the death of him who was our brother and our friend; on the
contrary, you left the criminals free to come and go for six weeks. His
body lies in the grave, but his blood, sprinkled on the stones of your
city, calls for vengeance. If you are armed with the sword, it is not
for mere show but to strike malefactors. And yet your tribunals are
dumb, and your sword slumbers in the sheath. Permit my lord bishop to
cite the case before him. If you refuse, you may rest assured that we
shall seek other means of avenging the death of our friend, and we shall
drown our sorrow and anger not in the waters of justice but in blood.'
The Friburgers spoke as if it were a murder: they forgot that the canon
had put on a cuirass, that he had grasped the halberd, that he had gone
fully armed to the scene of tumult, that he had rekindled the dying
flames, and attacked the huguenots, who had only used their arms in
legitimate self-defence. The avoyer of Friburg seconded the eloquent
menaces of Wernli's brother.[781]
[Sidenote: REFUSAL OF THE TWO HUNDRED.]
The Two Hundred saw that a war with Friburg and Savoy would be the
consequence of their refusal, but they had taken their stand on the rock
of right and were not to be moved. 'We do not know of any guilty persons
who have been allowed to come and go freely in the city,' they said. 'If
it be so, the blame lies with the procurator-fiscal whose duty it was to
apprehend them, and not with us who are judges. As for permitting my
lord to cite the cause before him, we cannot do so; it would be a
violation of the franchises, for which we and our forefathers have often
risked our bodies and our goods.' The syndic added that the council
would consent to the bishop's naming two persons to be present at the
examination, but on condition that they had no deliberative voice. The
Friburgers and mamelukes could not make up their minds to accept this
proposition. They were specially vexed that Coquet, syndic of the guard,
whom they looked upon as devoted to the reform, should be among the
number of the judges, whilst in their opinion he ought to be in the
prisoner's dock.[782]
[Sidenote: ARGUMENTS FOR THE TEMPORAL POWER.]
If it had been a mere question of punishing the author of the canon's
death, the prelate would perhaps have trusted to the syndics; but he
aimed at destroying both liberty and the Reformation in Geneva, and for
that he trusted to himself alone. To supplications, threats, and
violence some consented to add reasons. There was a kind of argument
used only in scholastic debates to prove that priests were the best
judges both in civil and political matters. This strange proposition was
demonstrated by syllogism. The major was: 'He is the best fitted to
judge who is nearest to God.' The minor this: 'Ecclesiastics are nearer
to God than laymen.' The conclusion is evident. They had recourse also
to arguments derived from astronomy. 'As there are two great lights in
the universe,' it was said, 'so there are also two in society. The
Church is the sun and the State is the moon. Now the moon has no light
of her own; all her light is derived from the sun. It is evident,
therefore, that the church possesses in itself, formally and virtually,
the temporal jurisdiction of the state.'[783]
Such arguments had great strength in the prelate's eyes: he appointed
two deputies, his bailiff and his attorney, and sent them to the Two
Hundred with orders to defend the rights of the sun. The union of the
two powers in a single individual supplied them with their principal
argument. The BISHOP was hardly mentioned in their speech but only the
_prince_. 'The bishop is your prince,' they declared; 'and you, the
syndics, are his officers. He may therefore command you as his subjects,
and when he transfers to his tribunal a cause which is in your hands,
you have only to obey.' This theory of absolute power could not pass in
Geneva. 'We are not the prince's officers,' replied the magistrates,
'but syndics of the city, elected by the people and not by my lord. He
has no power to institute us, and even his own officers, nominated by
himself, make oath to us, whilst we make oath to nobody.' Then the
syndics, turning to the Friburg deputation, continued: 'Sirs, you helped
us in the time of Berthelier, help us again now. It is not we, but the
bishop and his officers who alone occasion the delay of which you
complain. Let two deputies from the bishop, two from Berne, and two from
Friburg, assist at the trial, and be witnesses of our uprightness.'[784]
The bishop persisted in his demand: the deputies from Berne, desiring to
terminate the difference, proposed that the cause should be remitted to
two judges nominated by the council, two by the bishop, two by Berne,
and two by Friburg. The Genevans replied that a people were not at
liberty to sacrifice the smallest portion of their rights; and fatigued
with these endless importunities, they added: 'If our offer is refused,
we will convoke the general assembly of the people and do what it shall
ordain.' The Bernese, knowing very well that if the matter was referred
to the people no arrangement would be possible, exclaimed: 'Pray do
nothing of the kind.'
Whilst even Berne was soliciting the syndics to give way, the wives,
relations, and friends of the prisoners conjured them to persevere in
their resistance. They feared to hear every morning that it was too late
to act. 'It is time to bring the matter to an end,' said the syndics to
the Bernese. 'The prisoners are only accused; is it just to make them
suffer as if they were guilty? Go and speak plainly to the prince; make
him comprehend the duty which our liberties impose upon us.' The Bernese
went to the episcopal palace, but neither the bishop nor the Friburgers
who were with him would yield an inch. 'Messieurs of Geneva will not do
otherwise than they have said,' coldly answered Pierre de la Baume.
'Very good! and we for our part will not do otherwise than we have
declared.' The Friburgers added with a menacing tone: 'We are about to
return home and there ... we shall consider another remedy.' This remedy
was war: the Friburg deputies would return with an army.[785]
[Sidenote: THE PRISONERS IN THEIR CELLS.]
While these things were going on, the huguenots and evangelicals, seized
by the bishop's order, were still in prison bound hand and foot. Pierre
Vandel, Claude Pasta, the Sire de Compey, Domaine D'Arlod, the energetic
Ami Perrin and others, not forgetting Jaquéma, awaited their fate in the
gloomy vaults of the episcopal residence. In every house in Geneva and
at the town-hall people were constantly talking of them. 'The
prisoners,' they said, 'are kept in close confinement.' Such severity
excited universal compassion, and the secretary of council mentions it
in the Registers.[786] However if the bishop had been able to deprive
them of freedom of motion, there was another he could not take from
them, which was a sweet consolation for those who had received the
gospel in their hearts. 'Though they were bound and made fast in the
stocks,' says Calvin, 'still while praying they praised God.' It is of
Paul and Silas, shut up in the prison at Philippi, of whom the reformer
is speaking; but what he says of the liberty of prayer, which exists
even in spite of chains, may be applied to some of those who were now in
the prelate's dungeons.
Just at this time a report circulated through the city that the bishop
was secretly preparing boats for the removal of the prisoners to some
castle. It was said that certain stout watermen were ready to grasp the
oar, that an armed force would accompany the captives, and that as soon
the episcopal officers were upon the open lake they would laugh at the
syndics and the huguenots. These reports still more excited the anger of
the citizens. One of them, a daring man named Pierre Verne, watching the
boats moored on the shore, sought the means of preventing this unlawful
abduction: he thought he had found one, simple and in his opinion
infallible, and waited (as we shall see presently) until the veil of
night concealed him from the eyes of the enemy.[787]
If the prince's councillors were contriving how to get the huguenot
captives away, certain of the mamelukes were vexed that there were still
so many at liberty, and that the bishop was so slow in apprehending them
all without exception. It seemed to them that the _coup d'état_, or
rather _coup de main_, of which they had dreamt was long in coming; and
they knew that if a bold stroke is to succeed, the execution must be
prompt. Some of them began therefore to make amends for official
slowness by separate acts of violence.
[Sidenote: ATTEMPT TO MURDER CURTET.]
It was harvest time, and Jean Ami Curtet or Curteti, a man well disposed
towards the Gospel and belonging to a family which Duke Philibert le
Beau had ennobled, had gone out in the morning to visit a field which he
possessed on the banks of the Arve. He examined the ears and the stalks:
everything promised a fine harvest. Knowing that when wheat is once
ripe, there should be no delay in reaping it, he ordered the labourer
who accompanied him to begin to cut it. But he was destined to fall
before his corn, and on that very spot.... A sudden noise was heard,
some men in disguise fell upon him, knocked him down, beat him and left
him for dead in his own field. The news soon reached the city. 'It is
some gentlemen in disguise who have murdered him,' said the people. On
hearing the mournful news, the relations and friends of Curtet seized
their arquebuses, and about forty of them hastened towards the Arve
bridge. They raised the poor man who was seriously wounded, and bearing
their sad burden returned slowly into the city, their hearts bursting
with anger. As the procession passed in front of a house where some
Friburgers lodged, one of the Genevans called them 'Rascals and
traitors!' The Friburgers, innocent of the attempt, swore that they
would demand satisfaction for such an outrage; but the sad procession,
passing slowly through the principal streets of Geneva, under the
windows of the chief citizens, called up very different thoughts. Men
asked each other whether the partisans of the prince-bishop intended to
add murder to illegal arrest; whether it was sufficient to wear a mask
and strange garments to deprive citizens of their lives, without any
risk to the murderers; and whether every huguenot, as he was engaging in
the most innocent occupations, might be suddenly laid dead by a masked
enemy in the fields bequeathed to him by his ancestors?[788]
While these dangers were accumulating on the heads of the friends of the
Reformation in Geneva itself, perils not less great were gathering round
the city. People arriving from the country on the left bank of the Rhone
and of the lake reported that armed Friburgers and Savoyards were
assembling in great numbers at the castle of Gaillard, and that one of
the Wernlis commanded a part of them. It was well known that this
person, exasperated by the death of his relative the canon, combined in
his heart, along with the love and respect he bore to his memory, a more
energetic sentiment—that of revenge. The knights and soldiers who
gathered round him caught the infection of his anger. But not at
Gaillard only were armed men assembling, according to the reports of the
country people: there were some higher up, in the direction of the
mountains, at Etrembières, where there was a ferry over the Arve to the
_mandement_ of Mornex. Others were assembling higher still around the
picturesque hill of Montoux, and especially at the village of Collonges,
at the foot of the hill. At the same time, the people who came to Geneva
from the right bank of the Rhone and the lake, from the side of the
Jura, brought similar tidings, and spoke of armed men in the Gex
district, and particularly at the Grand Saconnex, three-quarters of a
league from Geneva. The city was beginning to be surrounded by its
enemies.[789]
The time seemed near when the projects conceived by the bishop at Arbois
were about to be realised. That prelate, who reproached his friend
Besançon Hugues for not having '_barked_' loud enough to prevent the
fall of his authority, proposed not only to bark himself against the
'_wolves_,' but also to bite them. One of those priests whom Rome had
raised to the rank of princes of nations had said: 'I am accustomed to
act vigorously.... I shall consider what it must be.' The pontiff was
preparing to fulfil his own prophecies.
[Sidenote: GENEVA AND CALVIN.]
The future of Geneva was indeed threatening. On the 10th of July a
gloomy veil seemed to be closing over that noble city. A fanatical party
was preparing the shroud in which it designed to bury the independence
of the citizens and the Reformation of the Church. That city, for which
many persons had already anticipated a more glorious destiny, was about
to be reduced to a mere provincial town, occupying an undistinguished
place in the world, and subject to the enervating influence of Rome,
without life and without liberty.
But other things were written in heaven. God was preparing both Geneva
and Calvin to deliver battle together, on the result of which was to
depend the triumph of the Gospel and the liberty of modern nations. And
to prepare for these glorious events, the steps of the great reformer
were soon to be directed, undesignedly on his part, towards that small
but energetic city, unique of its kind in Europe, and of which the man
of God was not then thinking.
We shall not forget that other nations have also added their stone to
the edifice of civil and religious liberty. From Switzerland, Germany,
the Low Countries, the British Isles, France, and afterwards America, as
well as other countries, were to proceed some of the acts destined to
secure the triumph of God's right and man's liberties.
And yet Calvin and Geneva did something. Calvin possessed an inflexible
resolution. God had said to this man as he had said of old to one of his
prophets: _As an adamant harder than flint have I made thy forehead;
fear them not, neither be dismayed at their looks, though they be a
rebellious house_.[790] It was not by chance, as it is termed, that such
a character was called to the midst of a people who had shown in
terrible struggles, watered with the blood of their best citizens, an
indomitable resistance to absolute power. At the period of history we
are describing God was preparing Calvin and Geneva each apart; but the
union of those two natures, predestined (if I may say so) for each
other, could not fail to produce remarkable effects in the world. The
reformer was about to concentrate in this little corner of earth a moral
force which would contribute to save the Reformation in Europe, and to
preserve in a few more favoured spots those precious liberties to which
all nations have equal rights.
It was necessary in the 16th century that a great man and a little
people should serve as a centre to the Reformation. The firmness of the
one, the energy of the other, tempered like steel in the waters of the
Gospel, were to give the tone to nations that were greater though
possibly less decided, and to impress the seal of unity on other
energies. _Behold how great a matter a little fire kindleth!_
While waiting for this new dawn, sorrow reigned in Geneva. The reformers
were expelled, their most fervent disciples were in prison, or wandering
through the country; and the sword was suspended over the heads of all
the friends of God's word. The mamelukes triumphed. The friends of the
Gospel and of liberty asked with anguish if the day of great tribulation
was come at last.... The wives of the prisoners and of the fugitives
expected to hear every moment of some new tragedy. Children called for
their fathers, who came not to the call. Groans and lamentations,
apprehension and even cries of anger, prevailed everywhere.
[Sidenote: FAITH AND HOPE.]
Only a few souls, putting their trust in God, preserved some little
hope. Knowing that 'God is not God unless He is on a throne, that is,
unless he governs the world, they feared nothing, however terrible it
might be,'[791] from the hands of the powers of the earth. In the midst
of agitated hearts and dejected faces, there were eyes which, though
dimmed with tears, were raised towards heaven with a glance of hope and
faith.
[745] 'Pedestris benda.'—Council Registers of 22nd and 30th June.
[746] 'Valde irritatoria.'—Council Registers of 22nd and 30th June.
[747] Council Registers of 22nd and 30th June. Gautier MS.
[748] Mémoires du diocèse de Genève, par le curé Besson, p. 63.
[749] Council Registers of 1st, 2nd, and 3rd July. Froment, _Gestes de
Genève_, p. 61. Gautier MS.
[750] La sœur Jeanne de Jussie, _Le Levain du Calvinisme_, p. 67.
Gautier MS.
[751] Council Registers of 2nd and 3rd July, 1533. La sœur J. de Jussie,
_Le Levain du Calvinisme_, p. 67. Gautier MS.
[752] Council Registers of 3rd July, 1533.
[753] La sœur J. de Jussie, _Le Levain_, p. 68.
[754] 'Senatus, sua libertate subnixus, jus suum strenue
tuetur.'—Spanheim, _Geneva restituta_, p. 62.
[755] 'Libertates, franchesiæ, immunitates, usus, et consuetudines
civitatis Gebennensis.'—_Mémoires d'Archéologie de la Soc. d'Hist. de
Genève_, tome ii. p. 312. Council Registers of 4th July, 1533.
[756] 'Alios interfecerunt, alios truncatis manibus et pedibus
demembraverunt; quibusdam vero oculos fodiebant, quibusdam frontes ferro
ardente notabant.'—_Scriptur. gallic. et franc._, viii. p. 281.
[757] 'Ad equi caudam pedibus alligatus . . . . vir dives et probus.'—G.
de Noviguto, _Op._ p. 510.
[758] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 61.
[759] Ibid.
[760] Vol. i. p. 73.
[761] Their names are given by Froment in his _Gestes de Genève_,
pp. 61-62.
[762] Ibid.
[763] See Plutarch's _Life of Sylla_. Council Registers of 5th
July.
[764] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 61.
[765] Council Registers of 5th July. La Sœur Jeanne de Jussie, _Le
Levain du Calvinisme_, p. 64. Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, pp.
61, 62.
[766] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 62.
[767] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 62.
[768]
... Who besides me
Can claim the right to die for thee?—_Alceste._
[769] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 62.
[770] 'Et illec en faire à leur plaisir.'—Ibid.
[771] Council Registers of 5th July, 1533.
[772] Calvin.
[773] Council Registers of 5th July and 6th August, 1533.
[774] Council Registers of 6th and 7th July.
[775] Calvin, _Op._ passim.
[776] Council Registers of 6th and 7th July, 1533. Roset MS. liv. iii.
ch. xiv. Gautier MS.
[777] Council Registers of 8th July, 1533. Gautier MS.
[778] 'Nisi vocatis sindicis et quatuor civibus dictæ civitatis.'—Mémoires
d'Archéologie de la Société d'Histoire de Genève,
ii. p. 323.
[779] Council Registers of 8th July, 1533. Roset MS. _Chron._ liv.
iii. ch. xiv. Gautier MS.
[780] Council Registers of 8th July, 1533. Roset MS. _Chron._ liv.
iii. ch. xiv. Gautier MS.
[781] Council Registers of 9th July, 1533. Roset MS. _Chron._ liv.
iii. ch. xiv. Gautier MS.
[782] Council Registers of 9th July, 1533. Roset MS. _Chron._ liv. iii.
ch. xiv. Gautier MS.
[783] 'Cum tota claritas lunæ sit a sole, patet quod jurisdictio
spiritualis, quæ comparatur soli, habet in se formaliter vel virtualiter
jurisdictionem temporalem.'—Goldasti, _Monarchia_, ii. p. 1461 et
seq.
[784] Council Registers of 9th July, 1533.
[785] Council Registers of 9th July, 1533.
[786] Council Registers of 12th July, 1533.
[787] Council Registers of 12th July, 1533.
[788] Council Registers of 14th July, 1533.
[789] Council Registers of 10th July, 1533.
[790] Ezekiel, iii. 9.
[791] Calvin.
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