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 HISTORY
 OF THE
 REFORMATION IN EUROPE
 IN THE TIME OF CALVIN.

 BY

 J. H. MERLE D'AUBIGNÉ, D.D.
 AUTHOR OF THE 'HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY,' ETC.


'Les choses de petite duree ont coutume de devenir fanees, quand elles
ont passe leur temps.

'Au regne de Christ, il n'y a que le nouvel homme qui soit florissant,
qui ait de la vigueur, et dont il faille faire cas.'

CALVIN.


 VOL. V.
 ENGLAND, GENEVA, FERRARA.

 NEW YORK:
 ROBERT CARTER & BROTHERS,
 No. 530 BROADWAY.
 1876.


 ST. JOHNLAND STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY,
 SUFFOLK COUNTY, N. Y.




PREFACE.


This is the tenth volume of the _History of the Reformation of the
Sixteenth Century_, and the fifth of the Second Series. The first series
described the history of that great epoch from its commencement down to
the Confession of Augsburg (1530). The second will include the years
intervening between that period and the triumph of the Reformation in
various parts of Europe. It is not always easy to fix the latter limit,
which varies according to locality.

Nevertheless, a rule laid down by the author in his first volume
sensibly limits the work he has undertaken. 'The history of one of the
greatest revolutions that has ever been accomplished in human affairs,
and not the history of a mere party, is the object of the present
undertaking. The history of the Reformation is distinct from that of
Protestantism.' One or two volumes coming, God willing, after this one
will bring it to a conclusion. The author divided the history into two
series for the convenience of the public, but he does not separate them.
Together they form a single work.

The course that he will probably pursue in future will better express
the unity of the great event which has made the sixteenth century
famous. Streams at first flow apart; they afterwards unite with each
other in succession and form a single river. There comes a moment when
the waters undergo the law of concentration: the same phenomenon is
manifested in a history like ours. After following up successively the
facts of the Reformation in Germany, German Switzerland, France,
England, Western Switzerland and elsewhere, we shall concentrate our
narrative a little, and present the progress of the great transformation
in a single picture.

New countries and new men will come before us. In our next volume we
shall travel through Scotland, Denmark, Sweden, Hungary, and other parts
of Europe, retracing the great features of their religious history. We
shall even return to Luther and Melanchthon, whose society is at once so
healthy and so pleasant; and also see Calvin at his work in Geneva.

One circumstance, besides that already indicated, warns the author to
restrict his labor, and might suddenly interrupt it. Time is growing
short for him, and he cannot complete his work without the aid of Him
who is the master of our days.

This volume begins with England. A faithful history of the Reformation
is now perhaps more necessary to that country than to any other. The
general opinion on the Continent, excepting that of the blind partisans
of popery, is that the cause of Reform is won, and that there is no need
to defend it. Strange to say this is not entirely true with regard to
England—a country so dear to the friends of truth and liberty. Nay, even
among Anglican ministers, a party has been formed enthusiastic in behalf
of rites, sacerdotal vestments, and superstitious Roman doctrines, and
violent in their attacks upon the Reformation. The excesses in which
some of its members have indulged are unprecedented. One of them has
instituted a comparison between the Reformers and the leaders during the
Reign of Terror—Danton, Marat, and Robespierre, for instance—and
declares the superiority of the latter.[1] 'The Reformation,' says this
Anglican priest in another place, 'was not a Pentecost; I regard it as a
Deluge, an act of divine vengeance.' In the presence of such opinions
and of others which, though less marked, are not less fatal, the history
of the Reformation may furnish some wholesome lessons.

The history of England is succeeded in this volume by a narrative of the
events which led to the triumph of the Reformation in Geneva. That
history ought to interest the Protestants of every country, the little
city having afterwards played so considerable a part in the propagation
of evangelical truth and in the struggles of Protestantism with Popery.

For the purpose of his narrative, the author has continued to consult
the most authentic sources: original documents, letters written by the
persons of whom this history speaks or by their contemporaries, and the
chronicles, annals, and books published at that epoch. He has made use
of such collections of documents as have been printed; frequently he has
had recourse to MSS. of the period which have not yet been published.

We live in a literary age when criticism sways the sceptre. Criticism is
good and necessary: it purifies history and clears the paths to the
palace of truth. But if dogmatic epochs have their excesses, critical
epochs have theirs also. It was said a long while ago that 'those who
run too hastily after truth shoot beyond it.' The men who desire to
renovate history are like those who desire to renovate cities. The
latter begin by pulling down a few ugly houses which disfigure the
neighborhood and impede the traffic; but at last they lay their hands on
solid and useful edifices, buildings whose destruction is regretted by
every one. Wise men will, in critical ages, take moderation and equity
for their rule. These have often been wanting in recent days. There is a
criticism called by the Germans _hypercriticism_, which not only denies
what is false, but even what is true. The Holy Scriptures have been the
special object of its attack. It has denied the authenticity of the
writings of St. John, St. Paul, Isaiah and other sacred writers, and the
truth of many of the facts which they record. If the sacred books have
not been spared by this criticism, writings purely human, the facts of
history, have not escaped unassailed. There have been numerous instances
of this in Germany and elsewhere.

Several facts which belong to the history of the Reformation of France
and French Switzerland have been recently called in question both in
reviews and pamphlets. The author has felt it his duty to prove the
historical reality of his statements, not only in the Preface to the
French edition of this volume, but in the February Number of the _Revue
Chrétienne_ (1869) published in Paris by M. Meyrueis. He has not thought
it necessary to give these details in the English edition, because the
statements which called them forth are unknown in England. It will be
sufficient to indicate the principal points which have been denied with
too much precipitancy, and the correctness of which the author has
proved by the soundest demonstration.

The first fact relates to Le Fèvre of Etaples. The author stated in his
History that that theologian, the writer of a remarkable translation of
the Holy Scriptures into French, had taught the great doctrine of the
Reformation—justification by faith through grace—as early as 1512, that
is to say, four or five years before Luther. This having been disputed,
the author proved it by the existence of Le Fèvre's _Commentary on the
Epistles of St. Paul_ published in 1512, in which that doctrine is
distinctly taught, and which is preserved in the _Bibliothèque
Impériale_ at Paris. He added other proofs derived from the writings of
Farel and Beza, as also from the learned critic Richard Simon, Bayle, &c.

The second fact concerns William Farel. The author said in his History
that this Reformer, the most zealous evangelist of that period, had
imbibed the evangelical doctrines at Paris from the lessons of his
master, Le Fèvre of Etaples, and that he was converted between 1512 and
1514—before the beginning of the Reformation properly so called. That
point having been denied, the author proved it by the positive
declarations of Le Fèvre and Farel. The latter says pointedly: 'This
took place in the time of Louis the Twelfth.' Now Louis XII. died in
1515.

The third fact relates to Thomas ab Hofen, the friend of Zwingle, and
deputy from Berne to Geneva in 1527. The author wrote in his History
that this layman was, properly speaking, the first who labored to spread
the Gospel in Geneva. As that statement had been impugned, the author
proved it by the German and Latin letters of Zwingle and of Ab Hofen
himself.

The fourth fact concerns Robert Olivetan, Calvin's cousin, and author of
the first translation of the Bible into French. It has been doubted
whether he was tutor in the family of a Genevese councillor in 1532, and
whether he 'evangelized' at that time in Geneva. The author proved his
statement by the positive testimony of the reformer Froment, in his
_Actes et Gestes de Genève_, and by extracts from the official records
of the Genevese Council. He has demonstrated that Olivetan preceded in
Geneva as a preacher of the Gospel, not only Calvin but Farel and
Froment.

Lastly, the fifth fact relates to Calvin. A Genevese writer denied a few
years back that Calvin, when returning from Italy, passed through Aosta,
where there exists, however, a monument erected to commemorate his
flight. The author hopes he has proved that the universal opinion, which
makes the Reformer pass through that city, is well founded, and that the
contrary opinion has no weight.

This last point is discussed in the Preface to the French edition of
this volume: the four others are examined at length in an article
entitled _Critique d'une Critique_, published in the _Revue Chrétienne_
of Paris.

There are individuals who, when they meet with facts in a history that
have not been previously discussed in an archæological dissertation, or
with circumstances that had hitherto been unknown, immediately imagine
that such facts have no foundation. This is a curious aberration. If an
historian writes—not according to second-hand authorities, but after
original materials—it is quite natural that he should come upon things
that have not been noticed before. This has happened to the author of
the _History of the_ _Reformation_. True history, no doubt, possesses
coloring and life; but it describes such events only as are founded on
the firm basis of truth.

There are writers at this day who carry their archæological
predilections further still and would like to substitute chronicles for
history, giving us a body without a soul. But authors of distinguished
merit have protested against such an error.

A great critic, M. Sainte Beuve, says: 'There is one kind of history
founded on documentary evidence, state papers, diplomatic transactions,
and the correspondence of ambassadors; and there is another kind with
quite a different aspect—moral history, written by the actors and the
eye-witnesses.'

An eminent man (Le Comte d'Haussonville) who by his last work, _L'Eglise
Romaine et le premier Empire_, has taken an honorable position among
historians, indorses this judgment. 'M. Sainte Beuve is right,' he says;
'the latter kind of history is the best, by which I mean the most
instructive, the most profitable, the only one which serves to unseal
the eyes, open the understanding, combat deplorable credulity, and avoid
disagreeable mystifications. What concerns us, is to know men, "by
lifting the curtain which hides them," according to the happy expression
of Saint-Simon.'

Another celebrated writer has said: 'Real history appears only when the
historian begins to distinguish, across the gulf of time, the living and
acting man—the man endued with passions, the creature of habit—with
voice and physiognomy, with gestures and dress, distinct and complete,
like the one from whom we have just parted in the street. Language,
Legislation, Catechisms, are abstract things; the complete thing is the
man acting, the visible corporeal man, who walks, fights, toils, hates,
and loves.

'Why is not history studied more closely? In it men would find human
life, domestic life with its varied and dramatic scenes; the human heart
with its fiercest as well as its tenderest passions, and moreover a
sovereign charm—the charm of reality.'

Lastly, we read in the studies of M. Daunou, one of the most accredited
masters of historical composition, that 'history which is naturally
_picturesque_ and _dramatic_ has become in modern times _dull_ and
_cold_, and no longer presents those living images of men and things
which ancient genius loved to trace.'

History had freed herself from the restraint which the Middle Ages had
imposed on her, to prevent her from speaking naturally and with life, as
men speak; and perhaps the lessons of the illustrious academician and
peer of France, whom we have just quoted, may have contributed to this
change. But for some time observers have been asking whether there is
not reason to fear a return of the Middle Ages; whether men are not
again attempting to fasten a gag on history. One might at times be led
to say that archæologists are of opinion that history might be
suppressed as a matter of luxury, a useless ornament, and be replaced by
documents, diplomas, and extracts from registers strung together.

Is it just that an historian should have the antiquaries crying out
against him from every side, because, while keeping faithfully to
documents, he draws something from them that has life or light? Is it
just that when a character feels, moves, and speaks, rejoices or
grieves, the Areopagus should declare him to be a fictitious being who
could never have existed, and a pure product of the imagination? You
believe that our ancestors were people like ourselves, with hearts that
beat with passion and grief.—By no means; they were icy shades like
those wandering on the banks of the Styx. Hitherto men had said: This
being feels and moves, therefore he lives; but according to the new
school, life is a fable. Nothing is authentic but what is wearisome. A
man and a history are not looked upon as real living beings, unless they
are colorless, stark, and cold.

Of this we have had many instances. One time we incurred this reproach:
Your imagination, we were told, invents features which give animation to
the subject, but about which you could know nothing. The following
passage was quoted: 'When Fryth the reformer,' wrote the critic, 'was
taken as a prisoner on foot to the episcopal court at Croydon, you say
that "he had a calm and cheerful look, and the rest of the journey was
accomplished in pious and agreeable conversation." How could you know
that?' the objector went on. 'Were you of the party to see the
appearance of his face?' We immediately took down the eighth volume of
Foxe's _Acts and Monuments_, the appendix to which contains an account
of Fryth's journey written by an eye-witness. We opened the book and
found these words: 'And so with a cheerful and merry countenance, he
went with them, spending the time in pleasant and godly communication.'
What we were charged with having invented, was an almost literal
transcript of a document more than three hundred years old.

If archæology were to be substituted for history, we do not think the
public would be overpleased with the authors of the transformation. The
investigations of palæographers are not the edifice, but the materials
prepared for its construction. History is above archæology, as the house
is above its foundations. The building raised by the architect is the
end. In it men find a pleasant dwelling-place, sheltered from the
inclemency of the seasons. But it is a good thing to excavate, to dig
out fragments of rock from the bosom of the earth; it is advantageous,
when you build, to have stones, and good stones too. The historian who
sets little store by archæology betrays a superficial mind; the
archæologist who sets little store by history betrays a mind whose
cultivation is still incomplete. But we need not fear this movement; it
has no chance of success. Real history will never perish.

We insert this protest in the present volume, not because of anything
that may concern us personally; but as this history has been favorably
received, we feel bound to prove that we have always followed the most
respectable authorities, and although liable to error, we have
conscientiously endeavored to give a truthful narrative—true in its
facts and in the spirit by which it is animated.

       *       *       *       *       *

When will debates and contests cease? Happily there is something in the
world which the attacks of men can neither batter down nor even shake,
and which is sufficient to give peace to the soul. The holy words which
the prophets of God have written will exist for ever, because the Light
of Life is in them, and because from age to age many hearts, longing for
the highest blessings, have found, and still find, in them everlasting
life. They delight us, not only on account of their divine origin, but
because they fully satisfy all the wants of our existence. We say to
this heavenly and living truth, which the divine words reveal to us: I
was naked and thou didst clothe me. I was thirsty, and thou didst give
me to drink. I was hungry, and thou gavest me meat. How is it that so
many men, perishing with thirst, do not come to these waters? Writers of
great power in pagan antiquity, such as Celsus, Porphyry, and Julian,
attacked Christianity in the early ages, employing the same idle
objections as are still used in our days. They knew not that it
contained an imperishable strength. For eighteen hundred years it has
withstood all attacks, and since our glorious Reformation it has
received a new impulse. The nations who cover the most distant seas with
their ships have scattered everywhere the seed of God. Their footsteps
have reached to the ends of the world, and the crouching nations rise up
at their approach. Perhaps unbelief was never more common in Europe
among the lower strata of society; but at the same time believers were
never so numerous throughout the world. _It is a great multitude which
no man can number._

And even were infidelity and atheism to increase more and more, that
should not lead us to forsake Thee, thou Saviour of the world! If
earthly wisdom gives its votaries a light which scorches and wastes the
soul, Thou givest a light which uplifts, vivifies, and delights. In the
midst of struggles Thou implantest peace in our hearts. In the depths of
sorrows Thou givest a powerful and living consolation. At the approach
of that death which is the terror of men, Thou fillest our souls with
the firm and lively hope of reaching, by the path of Thy cross, life
with Thee in the glorious and invisible world. To whom should we go, O
Christ? Thou hast the words of eternal life, and we have believed and
have known, that Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God.

GENEVA: _March, 1869_.

[1] _The Guardian_ for 20th May, 1868.




 CONTENTS
 OF
 THE FIFTH VOLUME.

 BOOK VIII.
 ENGLAND BREAKS WITH ROME.


 CHAPTER I.
 A CONSPIRACY AGAINST THE REFORMATION.
 (MARCH AND APRIL 1534.)

 A Critical Time—The King condemned at Rome—Two Days too late—The
 English Envoys and the Bishop of Paris—Miscalculations of the English
 Envoys—Henry's Book against the Pope—The People and the Clergy against
 the Pope—Reaction of Ultramontanism—An epileptic Girl—The Nun of
 Kent—Scene in a Chapel—Oracles and Miracles—Political Enterprise—The
 Nun before the King—Her Partisans increase in Number—Attempts to bring
 over Sir Thomas More—The Conspiracy—New Allies—The Nun and the
 Conspirators are arrested—Contrition of Sir Thomas More—Condemnation of
 the Criminals—Death of the Maid of Kent
                                                                    PAGE 1

 CHAPTER II.
 HENRY VIII. SEPARATES ENGLAND FROM THE PAPACY.
 (CHRISTMAS 1533 TO JUNE 1534.)

 The King's Proceedings against Catherine—The Monks and the Priests
 renounce the Pope—Preparation of Charles V. against Henry—Henry
 prepares to resist him—The Two Chiefs of the Anti-Roman Party—The
 Orator of the Reformation—The King abolishes the Authority of the
 Pope—The Sheriffs ordered to see the Proclamation carried out—The
 Church, a Department of the State—Authority in the Church—Form which
 the Church might have assumed—Various Systems
                                                                        18

 CHAPTER III.
 BEGINNING OF DANGER FOR THE QUEEN AND FOR TYNDALE
 (1534 TO AUGUST 1535.)

 Tyndale translates the Old Testament at Antwerp—His Charity and
 Zeal—Joye pretends to correct his Version—Tyndale's noble Protest—Anne
 protects the Friends of the Gospel—Her Message in Harman's
 Favor—Discontent of the King—Plot against Tyndale—Snares laid for
 him—Stratagem—Attempt at Bribery—Recourse to the Imperial
 Government—Tyndale's House surrounded—The Traitor—Tyndale's Arrest—His
 Imprisonment in the Castle of Vilvorde—The Life of the Reformers:
 Apologies for the Reformation
                                                                        28

 CHAPTER IV.
 THE KING-PONTIFF AGAINST THE ROMAN-CATHOLICS AND THE PAPACY.
 (1534 AND 1535.)

 Opposition of certain Priests—Mental Restrictions—Fanatical Monks and
 timid Monks—Agitation of Sir Thomas More—More and Fisher refuse to take
 the Oath—They are taken to the Tower—The Carthusians required to
 swear—Paul III. desires to bring back England—Henry rejects the
 Papacy—Severe Laws concerning his Primacy—The King, not the Head of the
 Church
                                                                        42

 CHAPTER V.
 LIGHT FROM BOTH SIDES.
 (1534 AND 1535.)

 Frankness and Misery of Sir Thomas More—Confusion in England—Character
 of Cranmer—Cranmer's Work—The Bible shall be translated into
 English—Cranmer's Joy—Failure of the Translation by the Bishops—Popish
 and seditious Preachers—The King orders the Carthusians to reject the
 Pope—The Carthusians resolve to die—Threats of Revolt—Incompatibility
 of Popery and Liberty—The Carthusians are condemned—Execution of the
 Three Priors—Henry strikes on all sides
                                                                        51

 CHAPTER VI.
 DEATH OF BISHOP FISHER AND SIR THOMAS MORE.
 (MAY TO SEPTEMBER 1535.)

 Fisher raised to the Cardinalate at Rome; condemned to Death at
 London—Piety of his Last Moments—His Christian Death—More before the
 Court of King's Bench—He is sentenced to Death—Taken back to the
 Tower—Meeting with his Daughter—General Emotion—More's
 Mortifications—Morning of 6th July—His Last Words—His Death—Sensation
 produced by these two Executions—Effects on the Continent—Fanatical
 Bull against Henry VIII.—Henry justifies himself at Rome—His Excuses
 not valid
                                                                        64

 CHAPTER VII.
 VISITATION OF THE MONASTERIES: THEIR SCANDALS AND SUPPRESSION.
 (SEPTEMBER 1535 TO 1536.)

 State of the Monasteries—Gluttonous Living—General Disgust—Cranmer's
 Advice to the King—Children of Darkness caught in a Net—General
 Visitation ordered—The Laity reappear—The Commissioners—The
 Universities—Cranmer on Rome—The Visitation begins—Corruption of Morals
 in the Monasteries—Immorality in the Abbey of Langdon—Robberies,
 Debaucheries, Frauds—The Holy Bottle at Hales—The Fraud at
 Boxley—Coining False Money—Cruelties—The Visitors besieged at
 Norton—The Nunneries—Apologists and Detractors—Many Monks and Nuns set
 free—Report of the Commissioners—Deliberations of the Council—Effect of
 the Report upon Parliament—Three hundred and seventy-six Monasteries
 abolished—Real Religious Houses—Latimer and Cranmer—Covetousness of the
 Nobility—Bad use of the Conventual Property—Testimony of the Monks—The
 Measure accomplished—Terror and Despair—New Institutions—National
 Prosperity—Social and Political Developments—Transformation of Society
                                                                        78

 CHAPTER VIII.
 UNION OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND WITH THE PROTESTANTS OF GERMANY.
 (1534 TO 1535.)

 Henry VIII. makes advances to Melanchthon—The Reformer rejects
 them—Luther and the Elector incline to Henry—The Errors of
 Intolerance—A New English Embassy to Germany—The Alliance is
 signed—Cranmer saves Mary—Conference with Catherine—Catherine's
 Firmness, Asceticism, and Illness—Preparations of Charles V. against
 England—Catherine's Will, her Farewell, and Death—Anne Boleyn's
 Feelings on hearing of her Death—England and Germany seek to
 unite—Theological Discussion at Wittemberg—Will Luther concede
 anything?—A Master and Slaves at the Court of England
                                                                       105

 CHAPTER IX.
 ACCUSATION OF ANNE BOLEYN.
 (1535 TO MAY 1536.)

 Error concerning the Beginning of the Reformation—Anne Boleyn's Virtues
 and Good Works—Her Relations with Cranmer and Latimer—With Tyndale and
 Parker—Parker's Christian Character—Anne Boleyn's Character—The Truth
 about Queen Anne—Her Enemies—Henry attracted by Jane Seymour—Queen
 Anne's Manners—Her Anguish—Her stillborn Son—Her Sadness and
 Anxiety—Anne's Zeal for the Reformation—Discontent of the
 Ultramontanists—Anne's Dangers increase—Her Anxiety for her
 Daughter—The Four Articles of the Indictment—Character of
 Henry VIII.—Commission of Inquiry—Brereton and Smeaton arrested—The
 Tournament at Greenwich—The King makes a Scene—Anne before Norfolk and
 the Council—Anne Boleyn in the Tower—Her Piety and Innocence—Her
 Sorrow—Critical Position of Cranmer—His Letter to the King—False Policy
 of Cranmer—Harsh Surveillance of the Queen—Peace and Agitation in her
 Heart—Extraordinary Transport
                                                                       119

 CHAPTER X.
 ANNE FORGIVES HER ENEMIES AND IS PUT TO DEATH.
 MAY 1536.)

 The Judge acknowledges Anne's Innocence—Her Enemies and her
 Renunciation of the World—Dignity of her Answer—Anne's Letter to the
 King—Its Effect upon Henry—Northumberland's Declaration—The
 Jury—Condemnation of Norris—The Queen and her Brother before the
 Peers—Anne's Dignity—Effect produced in the City—Sentence of
 Death—Anne's Farewell Address to the Peers—Lord Rocheford condemned—The
 four Gentlemen beheaded—Henry annuls his Marriage with Anne—Joy and
 Hope of the Pope—Anne's Self-reproach—Asks Pardon of Princess
 Mary—Anne's Communion—Miracles of the Priests—Anne's last Message to
 Henry—Preparations upon the Tower Green—A noble Pardon—Emotion caused
 by that Christian Act—Death of Anne—Her Memory—The Royal Hunting
 Party—Henry marries Jane Seymour—Effect of Anne's Death on the
 Continent—What Share had Rome in it?
                                                                       147

 CHAPTER XI.
 REFORMING MOVEMENT AFTER ANNE'S DEATH; CATHOLIC
 AND SCHOLASTIC REACTION.
 (SUMMER 1536.)

 Position of the two Parties—The Pope desires to unite with England—Two
 men in Henry VIII.—Pole determines to write to the King—Priests are
 Fathers, Kings are Sons—Henry rules like the Turk—Pole has orders to
 curse Henry—Sentiments of the King—Mary pays dear for her
 Reconciliation with the King—Ratification of Parliament—Order to
 renounce the Pope—Language of the Worldlings and the
 Christians—Convocation of the Clergy—Latimer's Reforming
 Sermon—Necessity of the Reformation—The Lay Element reappears—The
 Clergy denounce sixty-seven _mala dogmata_—The Prolocutor's Charge
 before the Bishops—The two Armies front to front—A Scotchman in the
 Convocation—What Cranmer thought essential—Fox extols the
 Reformation—The Word of God the Source of Life—Alesius is
 excluded—Necessity of a Convocation
                                                                       171

 CHAPTER XII.
 A MOVEMENT OF SCHOLASTIC CATHOLICISM INAUGURATED BY
 THE KING. EVANGELICAL REACTION.
 (AUTUMN 1536.)

 Henry plays the part of a Pope—Dogmas of the new Head of the
 Church—Articles about Religion—Baptism, Presence, Penance, Images,
 Prayers to Saints, Ceremonies, Purgatory—Different Opinions—The
 Articles accepted—Cranmer's Precautions to prevent Mischief—Cromwell
 Vicegerent—Coverdale's Bible—Evangelical Reaction—Various
 Testimonies—Persecutions—The foundations of Faith
                                                                       191

 CHAPTER XIII.
 INSURRECTION OF THE NORTH OF ENGLAND TO RESTORE THE
 PAPACY AND DESTROY THE REFORMATION.
 (OCTOBER 1536.)

 Agitation in the Northern Counties—Ferment throughout the
 Country—Revolt in Lincolnshire—Twenty thousand Insurgents—The King's
 Threats—The Pilgrimage of Grace—Sermon of Latimer—Aske's Address—The
 Nobility—The Earl of Northumberland—Henry's Alarm—Panic in
 London—Brutality of the Rebels—The Lancaster Herald before the Rebel
 Chiefs—The Insurgent Army marches on London—The Royal
 Proclamation—Propositions of the Rebels—They disperse—Subsequent
 Revolts and Repressions
                                                                       201

 CHAPTER XIV.
 DEATH OF THE GREAT REFORMER OF ENGLAND.
 (FROM 1535 TO OCTOBER 1536.)

 Tyndale's Characteristic—Imprisonment at Vilvorde—His Labors—Rogers
 comes to his help—Tyndale's Legacy—The Bible about to appear—A Light
 that shines before Men— Intercession with the King on behalf of
 Tyndale—Activity of Poyntz to save him—Poyntz attacked by
 Philips—Tyndale's Firmness—All things combine against Tyndale—His great
 Offence—Tyndale's Words—Tyndale degraded—Led to Punishment—He dies
 praying for the King—Petition for the Circulation of the whole
 Bible—The King consents—Consequences of the Act—How the Bible was
 received—Inward Power of Scripture
                                                                       213


 BOOK IX.
 REFORMATION OF GENEVA BY FAREL'S MINISTRY, AND ARRIVAL OF CALVIN IN
 THAT CITY AFTER HIS SOJOURN IN ITALY.

 CHAPTER I.
 PROGRESS, STRUGGLES, AND MARTYRS OF THE REFORMATION IN GENEVA.
 (JANUARY TO JUNE 1535.)

 Is Liberty a Blessing?—The Swiss abandon Geneva—New Election of
 Magistrates friendly to the Reformation—The Reformed party increases—A
 Monk offers to preach the Gospel—Opposition at St. Germain—The Council
 determines to let the Monk preach—Riot in the Church—Easter Communion—A
 Knight of Rhodes preaches the Gospel—The Brigands of Peney—Gaudet's
 cruel Punishment—The Martyr's Constancy—The Genevese attack the
 Castle—Retreat and Courage
                                                                       230

 CHAPTER II.
 POISONING OF THE REFORMERS. CONVERSION OF THE HEAD OF THE FRANCISCANS.
 (SPRING 1535.)

 Plot to get rid of Farel, Viret, and Froment—Antonia gained by the
 Priests—Her Experience—Steals the Poison—Prepares the Poisoned Soup—Her
 Terror and Flight—She is caught and brought back—Sensation in
 Geneva—Condemnation of the Criminal—Her Visions—Consequence of the
 Crime—Two Enfranchisements necessary—Conversion of Jacques Bernard,
 Superior of the Franciscans—He preaches throughout Lent—What the
 Charters of the Church declare—Jacques Bernard asks for a Public
 Discussion
                                                                       243

 CHAPTER III.
 PREPARATIONS FOR A PUBLIC DISPUTATION IN GENEVA.
 (FROM APRIL TO WHITSUNTIDE, 1535.)

 Five Positive and Five Negative Propositions—The Council authorizes
 Jacques Bernard to support them—Publicity established by the
 Reformation—Catholicism answers by a Procession—The Nuns alone show
 Courage—Celebrated Theologians invited—Caroli comes unasked—His
 Character—His Motives for visiting Geneva—Conversation between Farel
 and Caroli—Farel censures him—The Magistrate's part in the
 Discussion—Commissioners belonging to the two Parties
                                                                       254

 CHAPTER IV.
 THE GREAT PUBLIC DEBATE ON THE FOUNDATIONS OF THE EVANGELICAL FAITH.
 (JUNE 1535.)

 Struggle between the Head of the Franciscans and the Head of the
 Dominicans—The Ten Propositions sent to Furbity—Caroli acknowledges the
 Necessity of Grace—Caroli invites Furbity to the Disputation—Caroli
 stops short about the Mass—He recovers and speaks with Eloquence—Viret,
 Caroli, and Farel—The Victory remains with the Reformation
                                                                      264

 CHAPTER V.
 TRIUMPH OF THE WORD OF GOD, BOTH WRITTEN AND SPOKEN.
 (JUNE TO AUGUST 1535.)

 First Bible of the Reformation—The Printer and the
 Impression—Olivetan's Appeal to the Church—Conversions after the
 Disputation—Delays of the Council—Great Misery in Geneva—The Reformed
 demand the free Preaching of the Gospel—Farel preaches at the
 Magdalen—Forbidden by the Council—Farel preaches in various
 Churches—The Cathedral of St. Pierre—The False Worship and the
 True—Farel's Sermon at St. Pierre's—Two Systems with regard to
 the State
                                                                       271

 CHAPTER VI.
 IMAGES AND THE MASS ABOLISHED.
 (8TH TO 11TH AUGUST 1535.)

 Chants of the Priests—The Children's Games in the Cathedral—Destruction
 of Images—What must be thought of it?—The Host—Discovery of the
 Huguenots—Indignation of the Genevese—Three Bands march against the
 Idols—The Frauds at St. Gervais—The Miracles of St. Dominic—Farel's
 Reprimand—The Reformation grows stronger—Grief of the Priests—Firmness
 of the Reformed—Farel before the Great Council—Suppression of the
 Mass—The Clergy are not the Church—Sadness and Murmurs—Jesus Christ
 substituted for Ceremonies—The Tenth of August 1535
                                                                       283

 CHAPTER VII.
 PRIESTS, MONKS, NUNS, AND VICAR-GENERAL DEPART.
 (AUGUST TO DECEMBER 1535.)

 The Monks are dumb—The Priests haughtily refuse to speak—Flight of
 Papal Adherents—Who shall pay the Cost of the War?—The Abolition of
 Mass announced to the Pope—Farel preaches to the Nuns—How they receive
 his Sermon—Conversion of a Nun—Claudine and Blaisine desire to
 enlighten the Sisters—Departure of the Nuns—Their Journey and Arrival
 at Annecy—Disorders and Flight of the Vicar-general—Opprobrium of the
 Priests, Zeal of some of their body—Establishment of a general
 Hospital—Foundation of Schools—Priests summoned to defend their
 Faith—Roman-catholicism comes to an End—Doctrine of Christ preached
                                                                       298

 CHAPTER VIII.
 AN ENERGETIC CITIZEN CALLS SWITZERLAND TO HELP
 GENEVA AND THE REFORMATION.
 (SEPTEMBER AND OCTOBER 1535.)

 Preparations for attacking Geneva—The coming Tempest—The Emperor's
 Plans—Terror and Refuge—Berne drawn opposite ways—Noble Answer of the
 Genevese to the Duke—Discord between Baudichon and Michael Sept—La
 Maisonneuve appointed Captain-general—The Danger increases—Claude
 Savoye turns towards the Jura—Wildermuth promises Help—Ehrard and the
 Heroine of Nidau—The Neuchâtelers answer to the Summons—Opposition of
 the Governor—An Auxiliary Force of Volunteers—Hesitation of the
 Neuchâtelers—Struggle and Prayer—The Force diminished by one-half
                                                                       313

 CHAPTER IX.
 WAR AND THE BATTLE OF GINGINS.
 (11TH AND 12TH OCTOBER 1535.)

 Wildermuth's projected Route—Forced to change his Course—The Volunteers
 climb the Jura—Inclement and laborious March—Hunger—The Abbey—The Lake
 of Les Rousses—They reach St. Cerques—The three Guides—Message to
 Claude Savoye—Claude departs for Coppet—The Swiss descend the Jura—They
 approach Nyon—Led into a Snare—The Betrayal—Battle of Gingins—Two
 heroic Women—Slaughter of Priests—Second Battle and Second
 Victory—Thanksgivings on the Field—Song of the Bernese
 Soldiers—Preparations for resisting a Third Attack
                                                                       327

 CHAPTER X.
 DIPLOMACY OR THE CASTLE OF COPPET.
 (OCTOBER 12TH 1535.)

 War and Diplomacy—Statesmen in the Castle of Coppet—De Lullin, the
 Bernese, and Savoye—The Conference—The Governor plays with the
 Ambassadors—De Lullin's Schemes—All start to stop the Advance of the
 Swiss—What the Governor saw on the Road—The Ambassadors stop the
 Swiss—The news of the Victory reaches Geneva—Baudichon departs with
 five hundred Men—Terror of the fugitive Savoyards—Treacherous
 Negotiations—The Bernese order the Swiss to retire—They hesitate but
 yield at last—The Bernese made Prisoners—Baudichon's Approach causes
 alarm at Coppet—Fraud of the Diplomatists—The Three Genevese Delegates
 arrested and sent to Chillon—Baudichon allows himself to be
 deceived—The Swiss are tricked—Indignation at Geneva—The Genevese seize
 three Hostages—Storming of St. Jean
                                                                       339

 CHAPTER XI.
 MOVEMENTS FOR THE ATTACK AND DEFENCE OF GENEVA. FAITH AND HEROISM.
 (FROM THE BEGINNING OF NOVEMBER 1535 TO THE END OF JANUARY 1536.)

 Geneva blockaded—Combat and Prayer—Succor comes from France—Scheme of
 Francis I.—Geneva coins Money—Berne pleads for Geneva at
 Aosta—Conference in the City of Aosta—The Genevese refuse a
 Truce—Baudichon's Success at Berne—Defeat of French Auxiliaries in the
 Jura—Farel's Exhortation to the Council—Francis I. desires to become
 the Protector of Geneva—Attack of the third of January—Jesse's heroic
 defence of Notre Dame—What is the true Remedy?—The War of Cologny
                                                                       357

 CHAPTER XII.
 EXTREME PERIL.
 (JANUARY TO FEBRUARY 1536.)

 The Duke's new Plans—Giangiacomo de Medici—Has the Command of the
 Genevese Campaign—Ordered to destroy the City—Berne decides to help
 Geneva—The Proclamation—Nägueli made Commander-in-Chief—His
 Orders—Haller blesses the Army—The Troops march out with Songs—Song of
 the Bernese—Misery in Geneva—Capture of Versoix by the Genevese—Changes
 in the Policy of Europe—Combinations of Princes—Francis I. determines
 to attack Savoy—The Bishop of Lausanne opposes the Swiss—The two Armies
 meet at Morges—Medici's heart fails him—Embarks his Army and
 escapes—General break-up—Power of Moral Force—The Lords of the Country
 too frightened to take up Arms—Spare the People, destroy the
 Castles—Francis and Margaret of Gingins—The Vicar-General De Gingins
 hidden at Divonne—Nägueli divides his Army into three Corps—Entrance of
 the Swiss into Geneva—The Bernese War-song—The Genevese give God the
 glory
                                                                       369

 CHAPTER XIII.
 DESTRUCTION OF THE CASTLES—JOY IN GENEVA—LIBERATION OF BONIVARD.
 (FROM FEBRUARY TO THE END OF MARCH 1536.)

 Interview between Berne and Geneva—Burning of the Castles—A Circle of
 Fire—Destruction of Peney—Spirit of Peace in Geneva—Election of
 Syndics—Advance of the Army—The Soldiers deliberate—The French in
 Savoy—Seize the Duke's States—Last Years of his Life—Geneva rises as
 the Duke declines—Pretensions of the Bernese: Firmness of the
 Genevans—Conquest of Vaud—Bonivard at Chillon—Geneva and Berne resolve
 to liberate him—Attack upon the Castle—The Garrison runs
 away—Liberation of Bonivard—An Altar of the Gospel and of Liberty
                                                                       390

 CHAPTER XIV.
 THE PEOPLE OF GENEVA DESIRE TO LIVE ACCORDING TO THE GOSPEL.
 (MARCH TO JUNE 1536.)

 The City and the Country evangelized—The Council in an Episcopal
 Capacity—The State and the Church—Difficulties—Religion of
 Neighborhood—A Month granted to the Priests—Furbity set at
 Liberty—Morals in Geneva—Reason of Opposition to the Ministers—Farel
 calls for a Public Confession of Faith—Source of Genevese
 Liberty—Dangers of an Appeal to the Whole Body of Citizens—The Meeting
 of the Twenty-first of May—The Question put to the People—A Bulwark
 against the Pope—Memorial Inscription—Return of Genevan
 Refugees—Toleration—Transformation—Easter—Want of good Preachers—Where
 is the Chosen Man of God?
                                                                       403

 CHAPTER XV.
 CALVIN AT FERRARA.
 (WINTER AND SPRING.)

 The Court of Ferrara—Arrival of two Frenchmen—Their joyful Reception by
 Princess Renée—Men of Letters at Ferrara—Long Conversations between
 Renée and Calvin—A new Director of Princes—Calvin's last Letters—The
 Countess of Marennes—Meetings in the Chapel of the Court—Calvin's
 Hearers—Anne de Beauregard—Her early Death—Marot's Epitaph—Soubise—His
 Zeal—Bevilacqua and Titian—The Word stifled by the World—François the
 Chaplain—Conversations with Calvin—Calvin lends him a Copy of the
 _Institutes_—Mass—The 'Helen' of the Church—The Chaplain's
 Agitation—Calvin's Letter to the Duchess about the Chaplain—Calvin
 justifies Germany—Calvin writes to Duchemin—How to escape the
 Pollutions of Babylon—Roussel made a Bishop—Calvin's Letter to him—His
 energetic Appeal—Lesson to be drawn from these Letters—Calvin's
 Influence in Italy—His Danger
                                                                       420

 CHAPTER XVI.
 FLIGHT OF CALVIN.
 (SPRING, 1536.)

 The Inquisition alarmed—The French ordered to leave Ferrara—Marot's
 Lines to the Queen of Navarre—Calvin arrested—Hurried away to
 Bologna—Stopped and rescued on the Road—His
 Flight—Castelvetro—Traditions of Carigliano and Saluzzo—The City of
 Aosta—Beginning of the Gospel—Violent Opposition—Zeal of Bishop Gazzini
 and the Guardian of the Franciscans—Assembly of the States—Was Calvin
 at Aosta at that time?—Passes through Aosta twice—Calvin's
 Farm—Calvin's Bridge and Window—The Monument in Aosta—Calvin returns to
 France—Visit to Noyon—Prepares to return to Basle—His Object and Desire
                                                                       442

 CHAPTER XVII.
 CALVIN'S ARRIVAL AT GENEVA.
 (SUMMER, 1536.)

 A Traveller arrives at Geneva—Meeting with Du Tillet—Interview with
 Farel—Farel invites him to settle at Geneva—Calvin's Objections—His
 Timidity—Farel's Ardor—The Imprecation—The Thunderbolt—Calvin yields to
 the Call of God—His Journey to Basle—His Sermons at St. Pierre's—His
 Place in the Church—A wrong Step—The Spot on the Robe—How it may be
 excused—The Rule of Conscience—God's Honor more precious than
 Life—Religious and Political Liberty united—Hidden Errors—Formation of
 a living and united Church—Order of the Council—The Centre and the Head
                                                                       456




 HISTORY
 OF THE
 REFORMATION IN EUROPE
 IN THE TIME OF CALVIN.




 BOOK VIII.
 ENGLAND BREAKS WITH ROME.




 CHAPTER I.
 A CONSPIRACY AGAINST THE REFORMATION.
 (MARCH AND APRIL, 1534.)


The parliament of 1534 had greatly advanced the cause of the
Reformation. The voices of the most enlightened men of England had been
heard in it with still greater power than in 1529; and accordingly an
historian,[2] referring to the meeting of 1534, speaks of it as 'that
great session.' Those enlightened men, however, formed but a small
minority, and among them were many who, from a want of independence,
never voted on the side of liberty but when the king authorized them.
The epoch was a critical one for the nation. It might as easily fall
back to the pope, as advance towards the Gospel. Hesitating between the
Middle Ages and modern times, it had to choose either life or death.
Would it make a vigorous effort and reach those bracing heights, like
travellers scaling the rugged sides of the Alps? England appeared too
weak for so daring a flight. The mass of the people seemed chained by
time-worn prejudices to the errors and practices of Rome. The king no
doubt had political views which raised him above his age; but a slave to
his passions, and the docile disciple of scholasticism, he detested a
real Reformation and real liberty. The clergy were superstitious,
selfish, and excitable; and the advisers of the crown knew no other rule
than the will of their master. By none of these powers, therefore, could
a transformation be accomplished. The safety of England came from that
sovereign hand, that mysterious power, which was already stirring the
western world. The nation began to feel its energetic impulse. A strange
breeze seemed to be filling the sails and driving the bark of the state
towards the harbor, notwithstanding the numerous shoals that lay around
it.

The thought which at that time mainly engrossed the minds of the most
intelligent men of England—men like Cranmer, Cromwell, and their
friends—was the necessity of throwing off the papal authority. They
believed that it was necessary to root out the foreign and unwholesome
weed, which had spread over the soil of Britain, and tear it up so
thoroughly that it could never grow again. Parliament had declared that
all the powers exercised by the bishop of Rome in England must cease and
be transferred to the crown; and that no one, not even the king, should
apply to Rome for any dispensation whatsoever. A prelate had preached
every Sunday at St. Paul's Cross that the pope was not the head of the
Church. On the other hand, the pontiff, who was reckoning on Henry's
promised explanations and satisfactory propositions, seeing that the
messenger whom he expected from London did not arrive, had solemnly
condemned that prince on the 23rd March, 1534.[3] But immediately
startled at his own boldness, Clement asked himself with agony how he
could repair this wrong and appease the king. He saw it was impossible,
and in the bitterness of his heart exclaimed: 'Alas! England is lost to
us!'

[Sidenote: THE KING CONDEMNED AT ROME.]

Two days after the famous consistory in which Henry's condemnation had
been pronounced, an English courier entered Rome, still in a state of
agitation and trouble, and went straight to the papal palace. 'What is
his business?' people said; 'and what can give him such boldness? The
Englishman was bringing to the ministers of the Vatican the
long-expected act by which the King of England declared himself prepared
to enter into an arrangement with the pope, provided the cardinals of
the imperial faction were excluded.[4] The messenger at the same time
announced that Sir Edward Carne and Revett, two envoys from Henry VIII.,
would soon arrive to conclude the business.[5] Cardinal Farnese, who
erelong succeeded Clement under the title of Paul III., and the more
moderate prelates of the sacred college, waited upon the pope at once,
and begged him to summon the consistory without delay. It was just what
Clement desired; but the imperialists, more furious than ever, insisted
on the confirmation of the sentence condemning Henry, and spared no
means to ensure success. Monks went about repeating certain stories
which their English brethren sent them, and which they furthermore
exaggerated. They asserted that the English people were about to rise in
a body against the king and throw themselves at the feet of the holy
father. The pope ratified the sentence, and the consistory, taking one
more step, ordered the emperor to carry it out.

It has been said that a delay of two days was the cause of the
Reformation of England. That is a mistake. The Reformation came from the
Holy Scriptures, from God, from His mighty grace, and not from princes,
their passions, or delays. Even had the pontifical court at last
conceded to Henry the divorce he asked for, that prince would probably
not have renounced the rights he had acquired, and which made him sole
and true monarch of England. Had he done so, it is doubtful whether he
was strong enough to check the Reformation. The people were in motion.
Christian truth had reappeared among them: neither pontifical agitations
nor concessions could stop the rapid current that was carrying them to
the pure and living waters of the Gospel.

[Sidenote: DISMAY OF THE ENGLISH ENVOYS.]

However, Sir Edward Carne and William Revett, Henry's envoys, arrived in
Italy full of hope, and pledged themselves (as they wrote to the king)
to reconcile England and the papacy 'in conformity to his Highness's
purpose.'[6] Having learnt on reaching Bologna, that the bishop of
Paris, who was instructed to support them, was in that city, they
hurried to him to learn the exact state of affairs. The bishop was one
of those enlightened catholics who believed that the extreme
ultramontane party was exposing the papacy to great danger, and who
would have prevented schism in the Church, by giving some satisfaction
to Germany and England. Hence the envoys from Henry VIII. found the
prelate dejected and embarrassed. 'All is over,' he told them. 'The pope
has pronounced sentence against his Majesty.' Carne and Revett were
thunderstruck; the burden was too heavy for them.[7] 'All our hopes have
vanished in a moment,' they said. Du Bellay assured them that he had
spared no pains likely to prevent so precipitate and imprudent an act on
the part of a pope.[8] 'But the imperialists,' he said, 'moved heaven
and earth, and constrained Clement VII. to deliver a sentence in
opposition to his own convictions.' The ambassador of Francis I. added
that there was still one gleam of hope. 'Raincé, secretary to the French
embassy at Rome, with an oath, wished himself at perdition,'[9] said Du
Bellay rather coarsely, 'if our holy father does not patch up all that
has been damaged.' The Englishmen desired to go to the pope forthwith,
in order to prevent the execution of the sentence. 'Do nothing of the
kind,' said the French bishop. 'Do not go to Rome on any pretext
whatsoever.'[10]

Perhaps Du Bellay wanted first to know what his master thought of the
matter. Carne, undecided what to do, despatched a messenger to
Henry VIII. to ask for orders; and then, ten days later, wishing to do
something, he appealed from the bishop of Rome ill-informed to the
bishop of Rome better informed.[11]

[Sidenote: PEOPLE AND CLERGY AGAINST ROME.]

When the King of England received his ambassador's message, he could
hardly restrain his anger. At the very moment when he had made a
concession, which appeared to him the height of condescension, Rome
treated him with contempt and sacrificed him to Charles V. Even the
nation was aroused. The pope, it was said, commissions a foreign prince
to execute his decrees; soldiers newly raised in Germany, and brimful of
insults and threats, are preparing to land in Great Britain![12]
National pride arrayed the people on the King's side. Henry no longer
hesitated; his offended honor demanded reparation: a complete rupture
alone could satisfy it. He wrote a treatise entitled: 'On the power of
Christian kings over their Churches, against the tyranny and horrible
impiety of the pope.'[13] This book against the pope, and the very
different one that he had formerly written against Luther, are the two
claims of this prince to theological renown. Consulting merely his own
interests, he threw himself now on one side, now on the other. Many
writers supported him. 'The pope,' said Dr. Samsons, dean of the Chapel
Royal, 'has no more power in England than the Archbishop of Canterbury
in Rome. It was only by tacit consent that the pope crept into the
kingdom, but we intend to drive him out now by express consent.'[14] The
two houses of parliament were almost unanimously of that opinion. The
privy council proposed to call upon the lord mayor to see that
anti-Romish doctrines were taught in every house in London. Lastly, the
people showed their opposition after their fashion, indulging in games
and masquerades, in which a cardinal at one time, the pope at another,
were represented. To call a man a 'papist' or 'a priest of the pope' was
one of the greatest insults.[15] Even the clergy declared against Rome.
On the 31st March the lower house of convocation discussed whether the
Roman pontiff had in England, according to Scripture, a higher
jurisdiction than any other foreign bishop.[16] Thirty-three voted in
the negative, only four in the affirmative. The king immediately
forwarded the same question to all the ecclesiastical corporations of
the kingdom. The friends of the Gospel were filled with joy. The pope
had made a great mistake when, imitating the style of ancient Rome, he
had hurled the bolts of the Vatican, as Jupiter had in days of old
launched the thunders of the Capitol. A great revolution seemed to be
working itself out unopposed in this island, so long the slave of the
Roman pontiffs. There was just at this time nothing to be feared from
without: Charles V. was overwhelmed with business; the King of Scotland
was on better terms with his uncle of England, and Francis I. was
preparing for a friendly interview with Henry VIII.[17] And yet the
danger had never been greater; but the mine was discovered in March
1534, before the match could be applied to it.

A dangerous political and clerical conspiracy had been for some time
silently organizing in the convents. It was possible, no doubt, to find
here and there in the cloisters monks who were learned, pious, and
loyal; but the greater number were ignorant and fanatic, and terribly
alarmed at the dangers which threatened their order. Their arrogance,
grossness, and loose manners irritated the most enlightened part of the
nation; their wealth, endowments, and luxury aroused the envy of the
nobility. A religious and social transformation was taking place at this
memorable epoch, and the monks foresaw that they would be the first
victims of the revolution. Accordingly they were resolved to fight to
the uttermost, _pro aris et focis_, for their altars and homes. But who
was to take the first step in the perilous enterprise—who to give the
signal?

As in the days of the Maid of Orleans, it was a young woman who grasped
the trumpet and sounded the charge. But if the first was a heroine, the
other was an ecstatic—nay, a fanatic.

[Sidenote: ELIZABETH BARTON'S MIRACLES.]

There lived in the village of Aldington in Kent a young woman of
singular appearance. Although of an age which is usually distinguished
by a fresh and clear complexion, her face was sallow and her eyes
haggard. All of a sudden she would be seized with a trembling of the
whole body; she lost the use of her limbs and of her understanding,
uttered strange and incoherent phrases, and fell at last stiff and
lifeless to the ground. She was, moreover, exemplary in her conduct. The
people declared her state to be miraculous, and Master, the rector of
the parish, a cunning and grasping priest, noticing these epileptic
attacks, resolved to take advantage of them to acquire money and
reputation. He suggested to the poor sufferer that the extraordinary
words she uttered proceeded from the inspiration of Heaven, and declared
that she would be guilty if she kept secret this wonderful work of God.
A monk of Canterbury, named Bocking, joined the priest with the
intention of turning the girl's disease to the profit of the Romish
party. They represented to Elizabeth Barton—such was the name of the
Kentish maiden—that the cause of religion was exposed to great danger in
England; that it was intended to turnout the monks and priests; but that
God, whose hand defends His Church by the humblest instruments, had
raised her up in these inauspicious days to uphold that holy ark, which
king, ministers, and parliament desired to throw down. Such language
pleased the girl: on the faith of the priests, she regarded her attacks
as divine transports; a feeling of pride came over her; she accepted the
part assigned her. On a sudden her imagination kindled, she announced
that she had held communications with saints and angels, even with Satan
himself. Was this sheer imposture or enthusiasm? There was, perhaps, a
little of both; but in her eyes, the end justified the means. When
speaking, she affected strange turns, unintelligible figures, poetical
language, and clothed her visions in rude rhymes, which made the
educated smile, but helped to circulate her oracles among the people.
Erelong she set herself unscrupulously above the truth, and inspired by
a feverish energy, did not fear to excite the people to bloodshed.

There was somewhere out in the fields in one part of the parish, a
wretched old chapel that had been long deserted, and where a coarse
image of the Virgin still remained. Master determined to make it the
scene of a lucrative pilgrimage. He suggested the notion to Elizabeth
Barton, and erelong she gave out that the Virgin would cure her of her
disorder in that holy consecrated edifice. She was carried thither with
a certain pomp, and placed devoutly before the image. Then a crisis came
upon her. Her tongue hung out of her mouth, her eyes seemed starting
from their sockets, and a hoarse sepulchral voice was heard speaking of
the terrors of hell; and then, by a singular transformation, a sweet and
insinuating voice described the joys of paradise.[18] At last the
ecstasy ended, Elizabeth came to herself, declared that she was
perfectly cured, and announced that God had ordered her to become a nun
and to take Bocking as her confessor. The prophecy of the Kentish maiden
touching her own disease being thus verified, her reputation increased.

Elizabeth Barton's accomplices imagined that the new prophetess required
a wider stage than the fields of Aldington, and hoped that, once
established in the ecclesiastical metropolis of England, she would see
her followers increase throughout the kingdom. Immediately after her
cure, the ventriloquist entered the convent of the Holy Sepulchre at
Canterbury, to which Bocking belonged. Once in this primatial city, her
oracles and her miracles were multiplied. Sometimes in the middle of the
night, the door of her cell opened miraculously: it was a call from God,
inviting her to the chapel to converse with Him. Sometimes a letter in
golden characters was brought to her by an angel from heaven.[19] The
monks kept a record of these wonders, these oracles; and selecting some
of them, Master laid the miraculous collection, this bible of the
fanatics, before Archbishop Warham. The prelate, who appeared to believe
in the nun's inspiration, presented the document to the king, who handed
it to Sir Thomas More, and ordered the words of the Kentish maiden to be
carefully taken down and communicated to him. In this Henry VIII. showed
probably more curiosity and distrust than credulity.

Elizabeth and her advisers were deceived, and thought they might enter
into a new phase, in which they hoped to reap the reward of their
imposture. The Aldington girl passed from a purely religious to a
political mission. 'Unhappily,' says an ultramontane writer, 'she
quitted heaven for earth, and busied herself with worldly things.'[20]
This is what her advisers were aiming at. All, and especially Friar
Bocking, who contemplated restoring the authority of the papacy—even
were it necessary to their end to take the king's life—began to denounce
in her presence Henry's tolerance of heresy and the new marriage he
desired to contract. Elizabeth eagerly joined this factious opposition.
'If Henry marries Anne Boleyn,' she told Bishop Fisher, 'in seven
months' time there will be no king in England.' The circle of her
influence at once grew wider. The Romish party united with her. Abel,
Queen Catherine's agent, entered into the conspiracy; twice Elizabeth
Barton appeared before the pope's legates; Fisher supported her, and Sir
Thomas More, one of the most cultivated men of his day, though at first
little impressed in her favor, admitted afterwards the truth of her
foolish and guilty revelations.

[Sidenote: THE NUN BEFORE HENRY.]

One thing was yet wanting, and that was very essential in the eyes of
the supporters of the movement: Elizabeth must appear before Henry VIII.
as Elijah appeared before Ahab: they expected great results from such an
interview. At length they obtained permission, and the Kentish maiden
prepared herself for it by exercises which over excited her. When
brought into the presence of the prince, she was at first silent and
motionless, but in a moment her eyes brightened and seemed to flash
fire; her mouth was drawn aside and stretched,[21] while from her
trembling lips there fell a string of incoherent phrases. 'Satan is
tormenting me for the sins of my people,' she exclaimed, 'but our
blessed Lady shall deliver me by her mighty hand.... O times! O
manners!... Abominable heresies, impious innovations!... King of
England, beware that you touch not the power of the holy Father.... Root
out the new doctrines.... Burn all over your kingdom the New Testament
in the vulgar tongue. Henry, forsake Anne Boleyn and take back your wife
Catherine.... If you neglect these things, you shall not be king longer
than a month, and in God's eyes you will not be so even for an hour. You
shall die the death of a villain, and Mary, the daughter of Catherine,
shall wear your crown.'[22]

This noisy scene produced no effect on the king. Henry, though prompt to
punish, would not reply to Elizabeth's nonsense, and was content to
shrug his shoulders. But the fanatical young woman was not discouraged:
if the king could not be converted, the people must be roused. She
repeated her threats in the convents, castles, and villages of Kent, the
theatre of her frequent excursions. She varied them according to
circumstances. The king must fall: but at one time she announced it
would be by the hands of his subjects; at another, of the priests; and
at a third, by the judgment of God. One point alone was unchanged in her
utterances: Henry Tudor must perish. Erelong, like a prophetess lifted
above the ordinary ministers of God, she reprimanded even the sovereign
pontiff himself. She thought him too timid, and taking him to task,[23]
declared that if he did not bring Henry's plans to naught, 'the great
stroke of God which then hung over his head' would inevitably fall upon
him.[24]

This boldness added to the number of her partisans. Monks, nuns, and
priests, knights, gentlemen, and scholars, were carried away by her.
Young folks especially and men of no culture eagerly embraced this mad
cause. There were also men of distinction who did not fear to become her
defenders. Bishop Fisher was gained over: he believed himself certain of
the young woman's piety. Being a man of melancholy temperament and
mystic tendency, a lover of the marvellous, he thought that the soul of
Elizabeth might well have a supernatural intercourse with the Infinite
Being. He said in the House of Lords: 'How could I anticipate deceit in
a nun, to whose holiness so many priests bore witness?' The Roman
catholics triumphed. A prophetess had risen up in England, like Deborah
in Israel.

One eminent and large-hearted catholic, Sir Thomas More, had however
some doubts; and the monks who were Elizabeth's advisers set every
engine at work to win him over. During the Christmas of 1532, Father
Risby, a Franciscan of Canterbury, arrived at Chelsea to pass the night
there. After supper, he said: 'What a holy woman this nun of Kent is! It
is wonderful to see all that God is doing through her.'—'I thank God for
it,' coldly answered More.—'By her mediation she saved the cardinal's
soul,' added the monk. The conversation went no farther. Some time later
a fresh attempt was made: Father Rich, a Franciscan of Richmond, came
and told More the story of the letter written in letters of gold and
brought by an angel. 'Well, father,' said the chancellor, 'I believe the
nun of Kent to be a virtuous woman, and that God is working great things
by her;[25] but stories like that you have told me are not part of our
_Credo_, and before repeating them, one should be very sure about them.'
However, as the clergy generally countenanced Elizabeth, More could not
bear the idea of forming a sect apart, and went to see the prophetess at
Sion monastery. She told him a silly story of the devil turned into a
bird.[26] More was satisfied to give her a double ducat and commend
himself to her prayers. The chancellor, like other noble intellects
among the catholics, was prepared to admit certain superstitions; but he
would have had the nun keep in her religious sphere; he feared to see
her touch upon politics. 'Do not speak of the affairs of princes,' he
said to her. 'The relations which the late Duke of Buckingham had with a
holy monk were in great part the cause of his death.' More had been
Chancellor of England, and perhaps feared the duke's fate.

[Sidenote: A CONSPIRACY FORMED.]

Elizabeth Barton did not profit by this lesson. She again declared that,
according to the revelations from God, no one should deprive the
Princess Mary of the rights she derived through her birth, and predicted
her early accession. Father Goold immediately carried the news to
Catherine. The nun and her advisers, who chided the pope only through
their zeal for the papacy, had communications with the nuncio; they
thought it necessary for him to join the conspiracy. They agreed upon
the course to be adopted: at a given time, monks were to mingle with the
people and excite a seditious movement.[27] Elizabeth and her
accomplices called together such as were to be the instruments of their
criminal design. 'God has chosen you,' said the nun to these friars, 'to
restore the power of the Roman pontiff in England.' The monks prepared
for this meritorious work by devout practices: they wore sackcloth next
their skin, they fastened iron chains round their bodies, fasted,
watched, and made long prayers. They were seriously intent on disturbing
the social order and banishing the Word of God.

The violent Henry VIII.—easy-tempered for once in his life—persisted in
his indifference. The seven months named by the prophetess had gone by,
and the dagger with which she had threatened him had not touched him. He
was in good health, had the approbation of parliament, saw the nation
prosper under his government, and possessed the wife he had so
passionately desired. Everything appeared to succeed with him, which
disconcerted the fanatics. To encourage them Elizabeth said: 'Do not be
deceived. Henry is no longer really king, and his subjects are already
released from every obligation towards him. But he is like King John,
who, though rejected by God, seemed still to be a king in the eyes of
the world.'[28]

The conspirators intrigued more than ever: not content with Catherine's
alliance, they opened a communication with Margaret Plantagenet,
Countess of Salisbury, niece of Edward IV., and with her children the
representatives of the party of the White Rose. Hitherto this lady had
refrained from politics; but her son Reginald Pole, having united with
the pope and quarrelled with Henry VIII., they prevailed upon her to
carry over to the Princess Mary, whose household she directed, the
forces of the party of which she was the head.

[Sidenote: THE CONSPIRATORS ARRESTED.]

The conspirators believed themselves sure of victory; but at the very
moment when they imagined themselves on the point of restoring the
papacy in England, their whole scheme suddenly fell to the ground. The
country was in danger: the state must interfere. Cranmer and Cromwell
were the first to discover the approaching storm. Canterbury, the
primate's archiepiscopal city, was the centre of the criminal practices
of the Kentish girl. One day the prioress of the Holy Sepulchre received
the following note from Cranmer: 'Come to my palace next Friday; bring
your nun with you. Do not fail.'[29] The two women duly came;
Elizabeth's head was so turned that she saw in everything that happened
the opportunity of a new triumph. This time she was deceived. The
prelate questioned her; she obstinately maintained the truth of her
revelations, but did not convince the archbishop, who had her taken to
Cromwell, by whom she was sent to the Tower with five other nuns of her
party. At first Elizabeth proudly stuck to her character of prophetess;
but imprisonment, the searching questions of the judges, and the grief
she felt on seeing her falsehoods discovered, made her give way at last.
The unhappy creature, a blind tool of the priests, was not entirely
wanting in proper feeling. She began to understand her offence and to
repent of it: she confessed everything. 'I never had a vision in all my
life,' she declared;[30] 'whatever I said was of my own imagination; I
invented it to please the people about me and to attract the homage of
the world.' The disorder, which had weakened her head, had much to do
with her aberrations. Master, Bocking, Goold, Deering, and others
guiltier than her, appeared before the Star Chamber. Elizabeth's
confession rendered their denials impossible, and they acknowledged
having attempted to get up an insurrection with a view of
re-establishing the papacy. They were condemned to make a public
disavowal of their impostures, and the following Sunday at St. Paul's
was appointed for that purpose. The bishop of Bangor preached; the nun
and her accomplices, who were exposed on a platform in front of him,
confessed their crimes before the people, and were then led back to the
Tower.[31]

Personages far more illustrious than these were involved. Besides an
epileptic girl and a few monks, the names of Fisher and of More were in
the indictment. Cromwell urged both the bishop and the statesman to
petition the king for pardon, assuring them they would obtain it. 'Good
Master Cromwell,' exclaimed Sir Thomas More, who was much excited and
ashamed of his credulity, 'my poor heart is pierced at the idea that his
Majesty should think me guilty. I confess that I did believe the nun to
be inspired; but I put away far from me every thought of treason. For
the future, neither monk nor nun shall have power to make me faithless
to my God and my king.' Cranmer, Cromwell, and the chancellor prevailed
on Henry VIII. to strike More's name out of the bill. The illustrious
scholar escaped the capital punishment with which he was threatened. His
daughter, Margaret Roper, came in a transport of joy to tell him the
news: 'In faith, Meg,' said More with a smile, '_quod differtur non
aufertur_, what is put off is not put away.'[32]

The case of the bishop of Rochester was more serious: he had been in
close communication with all those knaves, and the honest but proud and
superstitious churchman would not acknowledge any fault. Cromwell, who
desired to save the old man, conjured him to give up all idea of
defending himself; but Fisher obstinately wrote to the House of Lords
that he had seen no deception in the nun. The name of the king's old
tutor was left, therefore, in the bill of attainder.[33]

[Sidenote: THE CRIMINALS CONVICTED.]

The bill was introduced into the House of Lords on the 21st February,
and received the royal assent on the 21st March. The prisoners were
brought together in the Star Chamber to hear their sentence. Their
friends had still some hope; but the Bull which the pope had issued
against Henry VIII. on the 23rd of March, endangering the order of
succession, made indulgence difficult. The king and his ministers felt
it their duty to anticipate, by a severe example, the rebellion which
the partisans of the pontiff were fomenting in the kingdom. Sentence of
death was pronounced upon all the criminals.

During this time the unfortunate Elizabeth saw all the evils she had
caused rise up before her eyes: she was grieved and agitated, she was
angry with herself and trembled at the idea of the temporal and eternal
penalties she had deserved. Death was about to end this drama of
fanaticism. On the 20th April the false prophetess was carried to Tyburn
with her accomplices, in the midst of a great crowd of people. On
reaching the scaffold, she said: 'I am the cause not only of my own
death, which I have richly deserved, but of the death of all those who
are going to suffer with me. Alas! I was a poor wretch without
learning,[34] but the praises of the priests about me turned my brain,
and I thought I might say anything that came into my head. Now I cry to
God and implore the king's pardon.' These were her last words. She
fell—she and her accomplices—under the stroke of the law.

These were the means to which fervent disciples of Rome had recourse to
combat the Reformation in England. Such weapons recoil against those who
employ them. The blindest partisans of the Church of the popes continued
to look upon this woman as a prophetess, and her name was in great favor
during the reign of Mary. But the most enlightened Roman catholics are
now careful not to defend the imposture.[35] The fanatical episode was
not without its use: it made the people understand what these pretended
visions and false miracles were, through which the religious orders had
acquired so much influence; and so far contributed to the suppression of
the monasteries within whose walls such a miserable deception had been
concocted.

[2] Burnet.

[3] Supra, vol. iv, bk. vi. ch. xxi.

[4] Pallavicini, _Concil. Trid._ lib. i. Herbert, p. 397. Burnet, i. p.
131. Collyer, ii. p. 80.

[5] Carne and Revett to Henry.—_State Papers_, vii. p. 553.

[6] Carne and Revett to Henry.—_State Papers_, vii. p. 553.

[7] 'It was to our heaviness.' Carne and Revett to Henry.—_State
Papers_, vii. p. 553.

[8] Du Bellay to the King. Le Grand, _Preuves du divorce_, p. 634.

[9] 'Se donne au diable.'—_Ibid._

[10] _State Papers_, vii. p. 553.

[11] Carne and Revett to Henry VIII.—_State Papers_, p. 555.

[12] Vaughan to Cromwell.—_Ibid_. vii. p. 511.

[13] 'De potestate christianorum regum in suis Ecclesiis, contra
pontificis tyrannidem et horribilem impietatem.'—Strype, _Records_, i.
p. 230.

[14] Strype, _Records_, i. p. 178.

[15] Raumer, _Briefe_, ii. p. 63.

[16] 'An Romanus pontifex habeat aliquam majorem jurisdictionem.'—
Wilkins, _Concilia_, iii. p. 769.

[17] Henry VIII. to Francis I.—_State Papers_, vii. p. 562.

[18] 'A voice speaking within her belly.'—Cranmer, _Letters and
Remains_, p. 273.

[19] Cranmer, _Letters and Remains_, pp. 65, 274.

[20] Audin, in his History of Henry VIII.

[21] 'Draw her mouth away toward the one ear.'—Cranmer, _Letters and
Remains_, p. 65.

[22] Fisher's Letter to the House of Lords.—Collyers, vi. p. 87. Strype,
Sanders, Hall, &c.

[23] Bishop Bale, _Works_, p. 640.

[24] Cranmer, _Letters and Remains_, p. 273.

[25] More to Cromwell.—Burnet, _Records_, ii. p. 262.

[26] 'Suddenly changed into such a strange ugly-fashioned bird.'—More to
Cromwell. Burnet, _Records_, ii. p. 260.

[27] 'Much perilous sedition and also treason.'—Cranmer to Archdeacon
Hawkins, _Letters and Remains_, p. 274. A manuscript in the Record
Office contains various details.

[28] 'Henricum non amplius esse regem.'—Sanders, p. 74.

[29] Cranmer, _Letters and Remains_, p. 252.

[30] _Ibid_. p. 274.

[31] Cranmer, _Letters and Remains_, p. 274.

[32] More's _Life_, p. 230.

[33] Letter from Cromwell to Fisher.

[34] Hall, p. 814. Burnet, p. 280 (edit. 1816.)

[35] The Roman catholic historian Lingard acknowledges the deception.




 CHAPTER II.
 HENRY VIII. SEPARATES ENGLAND FROM THE PAPACY.
 (CHRISTMAS 1533 TO JUNE 1534.)


The maid of Kent having been executed, her partisans rallied round
another woman, who represented the Romish system in its highest
features, as Elizabeth Barton had represented it in its more vulgar
phase. After the nun came the queen.

[Sidenote: QUEEN CATHERINE'S FIRMNESS.]

Catherine had always claimed the honors due to the Queen of England, and
her attendants yielded them to her. 'We made oath to her as queen,' they
said, 'and the king cannot discharge our consciences.' Whenever Lord
Mountjoy, royal commissioner to the daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella,
called her '_princess_,' she raised her head haughtily and said to him:
'You shall answer for this before God.'[36] 'Ah!' exclaimed Mountjoy,
fretted by the vexations of his office, 'I would a thousand times rather
serve the king in the most dangerous cause!' Mary having also received
an injunction to drop her title of princess, made answer: 'I shall
believe no such order, unless I see his Majesty's signature.' The most
notable partisans of Roman catholicism, and even the ambassador of
Charles V., paid the queen frequent visits. Henry became uneasy, and
shortly before Christmas 1533 he took measures to remove her from her
friends. Catherine opposed everything. Suffolk wrote to the king: 'I
have never seen such an obstinate woman.' But there was a man quite as
obstinate, and that was Henry.

His most cherished desires had not been satisfied: he had no son. Should
he chance to die, he would leave two daughters, Mary and Elizabeth; the
former supported by the partisans of the old times, the latter by those
of the new. Civil war would probably decide to whom the crown should
belong. It was necessary to prevent such a misfortune. The Lords and
Commons, therefore, petitioned the king, no doubt at his instigation,
that his marriage with Lady Catherine should be declared null, and her
child illegitimate; that his marriage with Queen Anne should be
recognized as valid, and the children issuing from it alone entitled to
succeed. All classes of people immediately took the statutory oath; even
the monks bowed their heads. They said: 'Bound to render to our king
Henry VIII. and to him alone after Jesus Christ,[37] fidelity and
worship, we promise inviolable obedience to our said lord as well as to
our most serene Queen Anne, his wife, and to their children; and we
profess perpetual respect for the holy and chaste marriage which they
have legitimately contracted.'[38] This forced testimony, borne to Anne
by the monastic orders, is one of the numerous monuments of the
despotism of Henry VIII. and of the moral weakness of the monks.

But in this oath of allegiance the king had meditated a more important
object—to banish the papacy from England. The monks bound themselves not
only to recognize the prescribed order of succession, but further to
substitute the primacy of the king for that of the pope. 'We affirm,'
they said, 'that King Henry is the head of the Anglican Church, that the
Roman bishop, falsely styled pope and sovereign pontiff, has no more
authority than any other bishop; and we promise to preach Christ simply
and openly according to the rule of Scripture and of the orthodox and
catholic doctors.' A sign, a word from the State was sufficient to make
the papal army pass from the camp of Rome to the camp of the king.

The 'famous question,'[39] that of the Romish jurisdiction, was also put
before the two universities. On the 2nd May Cambridge declared, that
'all its doctors having carefully examined the Holy Scriptures, had not
discovered the primacy of the pope in them.' The clergy of the province
of York, led by the archbishop Edward Lee, a churchman full of talent,
activity, and vanity, stoutly resisted at first; but eventually the
prelate wrote to the king on the 2nd June that 'according to the
unanimous opinion of his clergy, the pope in conformity with the Holy
Scriptures had no more authority in England than any other foreign
ecclesiastic.'[40] Henry, not content with the proclamations of his
council and the declarations of parliament, required for his separation
from Rome the suffrage of the Church; and the Church, probably more from
weakness than conviction, gave it. However, without reckoning the
members of the clergy who, like the primate, wanted no pope, there were
many bishops who, at heart, were not sorry to be liberated from the
perpetual encroachments of the Roman court.

[Sidenote: RESISTANCE AGAINST INVASION.]

A rumor from the continent suddenly disquieted the king among all his
easy triumphs; a more formidable enemy than those monks and bishops was
rising against him. It was reported that the emperor was not only
recruiting soldiers in Flanders, but was forwarding considerable numbers
from Bohemia, Germany, Italy, and Spain for the invasion of England.[41]
Francis I. could not permit this kingdom, so close to his own, to be
occupied by the armies of Charles V. his constant enemy; he determined
therefore to have an interview with Henry, and to that intent sent over
the Seigneur De la Guiche, his chamberlain and counsellor.[42] Henry
replied that it would be difficult to leave England just at a time when
pope and emperor spoke of invading him; the more so as he must leave his
'most dearly beloved queen' (Anne Boleyn) and his young daughter, the
Princess Elizabeth; as well as another daughter and her mother, the aunt
of Charles V., whose partisans were conspiring against him. 'Ask my good
brother the king,' said Henry to De la Guiche, 'to collect a fleet of
ships, galleys, and barks to prevent the emperor's landing. And in case
that prince should invade either France or England, let us agree that
the one who is not called upon to defend his own kingdom shall march
into Charles's territories.' However, Henry consented to go as far as
Calais.[43]

There was another invasion which, in Henry's eyes, was much more to be
dreaded. That king—a greater king perhaps than is ordinarily
supposed—maintained that no prince, whether his name was Charles or
Clement, had any business to meddle with his kingdom. The act of the
23rd March, by which the pope had condemned him, had terminated his long
endurance: Clement VII. had declared war against him and Henry VIII.
accepted it. A man, though he be ordinarily the slave of his passions,
has sometimes impulses which belong to great characters. Henry
determined to finish with the pope as the pope had finished with him. He
will declare himself master in his own island; dauntlessly he will brave
Rome and the imperial power ready to assail him. Erelong the fire which
consumed him appeared to kindle his subjects. The political party, at
the head of which were Suffolk and Gardiner, was ready to give up the
papacy, even while maintaining the dogmas of catholicism. The
evangelical party desired to go farther, and drive the catholic
doctrines out of England. These two hostile sections united their forces
against the common enemy.

At the head of the evangelicals, who were eventually to prevail under
the son of Henry VIII., were two men of great intelligence, destined to
be powerful instruments in the enfranchisement of England. Cranmer, the
ecclesiastical leader of the party, gave way too easily to the royal
pressure; but being a moderate theologian, a conscientious Christian, a
skilful administrator, and indefatigable worker, he carefully studied
the Scriptures, the Fathers, and even the Schoolmen; he took note of
their sayings, and strengthened by their opinions, continued the work of
the Reformation with calmness and perseverance. Beside him stood
Cromwell, the lay leader of protestant feeling. Gifted in certain
respects with a generous character, he loved to benefit those who had
helped him in adversity; but too attentive to his own interests, he
profited by the Reformation to increase his riches and honors. Inferior
to Cranmer in moral qualities, he had a surer and a wider glance than
the primate; he saw clearly the end for which he must strive and the
means necessary to be employed, and combined much activity with his
talents. These leaders were strongly supported. A certain number of
ministers and lay members of the Church desired an evangelical reform in
England. Latimer, a popular orator, was the tribune commissioned to
scatter through the nation the principles whose triumph Cranmer and
Cromwell sought. He preached throughout the whole extent of the province
of Canterbury; but if his bold language enlightened the well-disposed,
it irritated the priests and monks. His great reputation led to his
being invited to preach before the king and queen. Cranmer, fearing his
incisive language and sarcastic tone, begged him to say nothing in the
pulpit that would indicate any soreness about his late disgrace. 'In
your sermon let not any sparkle or suspicion of grudge appear to remain
in you.[44] If you attack with the Word of God any sin or superstition,
do it without passion.' Latimer preached, and Anne Boleyn was so charmed
by his evangelical simplicity, Christian eloquence, and apostolic zeal,
that she made him her chaplain. Latimer takes his place by the side of
Cranmer among the reformers of the English Church.

[Sidenote: THE PAPAL AUTHORITY ABOLISHED.]

The evangelical and the political parties being thus agreed to support
the prince, Henry determined to strike the decisive blow. On the 9th
June, 1534, about three months after he had been condemned at Rome, he
signed at Westminster the proclamation 'for the abolishing of the
usurped power of the pope.'[45] The king declared: 'That having been
acknowledged next after God, supreme head of the Church of England, he
abolished the authority of the bishop of Rome throughout his realm, and
commanded all bishops to preach and have preached, every Sunday and holy
day, the sweet and sincere Word of the Lord; to teach that the
jurisdiction of the Church belongs to him alone, and to blot out of all
canons, liturgies, and other works the name of the bishop of Rome and
his pompous titles, so that his name and memory be never more remembered
in the kingdom of England, except to his contumely and reproach.[46] By
so doing you will advance the honor of God Almighty, manifest the
imperial majesty of your sovereign lord, and procure for the people
unity, tranquillity, and prosperity.'

[Sidenote: THE CHURCH, A STATE-DEPARTMENT.]

Would these orders be executed? If there remained in any university,
convent, parish, or even in any wretched presbytery, a breviary in which
the name of the _pope_ was written; if on the altar of any poor country
church a missal was found with these four letters unerased—it was a
crime. If every weed be not plucked up, thought the king's counsellors,
the garden will soon be entirely overrun. The obstinacy of the clergy,
their stratagems, their pious frauds were a mystery to nobody. Henry was
persuaded, and his counsellors still more so, that the bishops would
make no opposition; they resolved therefore to direct the sheriffs to
see that the king's orders were strictly carried out. 'We command you,'
said that prince, 'under pain of our high indignation, to put aside all
human respect, to place God's glory solely before you, and, at the risk
of exposing yourselves to the greatest perils, to make and order
diligent search to be made.[47] Inform yourselves whether in every part
of your county the bishop executes our commands without veil or
dissimulation. And in case you should observe that he neglects some
portion, or carries out our orders coldly, or presents this measure in a
bad light, we command you strictly to inform us and our council with all
haste.

'If you hesitate or falter in the commission we give you, rest assured
that being a prince who loves justice, we will punish you with such
severity that all our subjects will take care for the future not to
disobey our commands.'

Everybody could see that Henry was in earnest, and immediately after
this energetic proclamation, those who were backward hastened to make
their submission. The dean and chapter of St. Paul's made their protest
against the pope on the 20th June. On the 27th the University of Oxford,
in an act where they described the king as 'that most wise Solomon,'
declared unanimously that it was contrary to the Word of God to
acknowledge any superiority whatsoever in the bishop of Rome. A great
number of churches and monasteries set their seals to similar
declarations.[48]

Such was the first pastoral of the prince who claimed now to govern the
Church. He seemed desirous of making it a mere department of the State.
Henry allowed the bishops to remain, but he employed the functionaries
of police and justice to overlook their episcopate; and that office was
imposed upon them in such terms that they must necessarily look sharp
after the transgressors. First and foremost the king wanted his own way
in his family, in the State, and in the Church. The latter was to him as
a ship which he had just captured: the captain was driven out, but for
fear lest he should return, he threw overboard all who he thought might
betray him. With haughty head and naked sword Henry VIII. entered the
new realm which he had conquered. He was far from resembling Him whom
the prophets had announced: _Behold thy king cometh unto thee, meek and
lowly_.

[Sidenote: FORM THE CHURCH SHOULD TAKE.]

The power in the Church having been taken from the pope, to whom should
it have been committed?

Scripture calls the Christian people a holy nation, a royal
priesthood;[49] words which show that, after God, the authority belongs
to them. And, in fact, the first act of the Church, the election of an
apostle in the place of Judas, was performed by the brethren assembled
in one place.[50] When it became necessary to appoint deacons, the
twelve apostles once more summoned 'the multitude of the disciples.'[51]
And later still, the evangelists, the delegates of the flocks, were
selected by the voice of the churches.[52]

It is a principle of reason, that authority, where a corporate body is
concerned, resides in the totality of its members. This principle of
reason is also that of the Word of God.

When the Church became more numerous it was called upon to delegate (at
least partially) a power that it could no longer exercise wholly of
itself. In the apostolic age the Christians, called to form this
delegation, adopted the forms with which they were familiar. After the
pattern of the council of elders, which existed in the Jewish
synagogues, and of the assembly of decurions, which exercised municipal
functions in the cities of the pagans,[53] the Christian Church had in
every town a council, composed of men of irreproachable life, vigilant,
prudent, apt to teach,[54] but distinct from those who were called
doctors, evangelists, or ministers of the Word.[55] Still the Christians
never entertained the idea of giving themselves a universal chief, after
the image of the emperor. Jesus Christ and his Word were amply
sufficient. It was not until many centuries later that this
anti-Christian institution appeared in history.

The authority, which in England had been taken away from the pope,
should return in accordance with scriptural principles to the members of
the Church; and if, following the example of the primitive Christians,
they had adopted the forms existing in their own country in the
sixteenth century, they would have placed as directors of the
Church—Christ remaining their sole king—one or two houses or assemblies,
authorized to provide for the ecclesiastical administration, the
maintenance of a pure faith, and the spiritual prosperity of that vast
body. These assemblies would have been composed, as in the primitive
times, of a majority of Christian laymen, with the addition of
ministers; and both would have been elected by believers whose faith was
in conformity with that of the Church.[56]

But was there at that time in England a sufficient number of enlightened
Christians to become members of these assemblies, and even to hold the
elections which were to appoint them? It is doubtful. They were not to
be found even in Germany. 'I have nobody to put in them,' said Luther;
'but if the thing becomes feasible, I shall not be wanting in my
duty.'[57]

This form of government not being possible in England then, according to
the Reformer's expression, two other forms offered themselves. If the
first were adopted, the authority would be remitted to the clergy; but
that would have been to perpetuate the doctrines and rites of popery and
to lead back infallibly to the domination of Rome. The most dangerous
government for the Church is the government of priests: they commonly
rob it of liberty, spontaneousness, evangelical faith, and life.

There remained no alternative then but to confide the supreme authority
in the Church to the State; and this is what was generally done in the
sixteenth century. But men of the greatest experience in these matters
have agreed that the government of the religious society by the civil
power can only be a temporary expedient, and have universally proclaimed
the great principle, 'that the essence of all society is to be governed
by itself.'[58] To deny this axiom would be utterly contrary not only to
liberty, but, further still, contrary to justice.

We must not forget when we speak of the relations between Church and
State, that there are three different systems:—the government of the
Church by the State; the union of the Church, governing itself, with the
State; and their complete separation. There is no reason for pronouncing
here upon the relative value of the two last systems.

[36] 'Which we should answer to afore God.'—_State Papers_, i. p. 403.

[37] 'Cui uni et soli, post Jesum Christum.'—Rymer, _Acta_, p. 192.

[38] 'Erga castum sanctumque matrimonium.'—_Ibid._

[39] 'In quæstione illa famosa de Romani pontificis potestate.'—Wilkins,
_Concilia_, iii. p. 771.

[40] 'Nemine eorum discrepante.'—Wilkins, _Concilia_, p. 782.

[41] 'But of Boheme, Italy, and Almayn, as also out of Spain, to invade
his realm.'—Certain Articles. _State Papers_, vii. p. 560.

[42] It has been supposed that this was the Duke of Guise (Froude,
_History of England_); but a devoted papist, such as Guise, would not
have been concerned in a negotiation opposed to the orders of the pope.
The _State Papers_ (vii. p. 562) and the index affixed to the seventh
volume both say _Guiche_ or _Guysche_.

[43] _State Papers_, vii. pp. 559-564.

[44] Latimer: _Remains_, p. 366.

[45] Wilkins, _Concilia_, iii. p. 772.

[46] 'And his name and memory to be never more remembered except to his
contumely and reproach.'—Wilkins, _Concilia_, p. 773.

[47] 'Make diligent search and wait.'—King's proclamation. Foxe, _Acts
and Monuments_, v. p. 70. _Wait_ properly signifies _ambuscade_.

[48] 'Sigilla de cera rubea.'—See for the pattern and the signatures,
Rymer, _Acta_, vii. pp. 185-209.

[49] 1 Peter ii. 9.

[50] Acts i. 15.

[51] Acts vi. 2.

[52] 2 Cor. viii. 19.

[53] _Digesta_, lib. I. tit. ii.; _De decurione_, No. 2.

[54] 1 Timothy iii.; Titus i.

[55] Ephesians iv. 11; vi. 21; Colossians i. 7; 1 Timothy iv. 6.

[56] The Thirty-nine Articles.

[57] Luther, _De missa Germanica_.

[58] Grotius, _De imperatoris summa potestate circa sacra_.




 CHAPTER III.
 BEGINNING OF DANGER FOR THE QUEEN AND FOR TYNDALE.
 (1534 TO AUGUST 1535.)


Two persons were at this time specially dreaded by the Roman party: one
was at the summit of the grandeurs of the world, the other at the summit
of the grandeurs of faith—the queen and Tyndale. The hour of trial was
approaching for both of them.

There existed another reformation than that of which the sheriffs were
to be the agents; there were other reformers than Henry VIII. One man,
desirous of reviving the Church of Christ in England, had made the
translation of the Holy Scriptures the work of his life. Tyndale had
been forced to leave his country; but he had left it only to prepare a
seed which, borne on the wings of the wind, was to change the
wildernesses of Great Britain into a fruitful garden.

[Sidenote: TYNDALE AT ANTWERP.]

The retired teacher from the vale of the Severn had settled in 1534 as
near as possible to England—at Antwerp, whence ships departed frequently
for British harbors. The English merchants, of whom there were many in
that city, welcomed him with fraternal cordiality. Among them was a
friend of the Gospel, Mr. Thomas Poyntz, whose brother filled an office
in the king's household. This warm-hearted Christian had received
Tyndale into his house, and the latter was unremittingly occupied in
translating the Old Testament, when an English ship brought the news of
the martyrdom of Fryth, his faithful colleague. Tyndale shed many tears,
and could not make up his mind to continue his work alone. But the
reflection that Fryth had glorified Jesus Christ in his prison, aroused
him: he felt it his duty to glorify God in his exile. The loss of his
friend made his Saviour still more precious to him, and in Jesus he
found comfort for his mind. 'I have lost my brother,' he said, 'but in
Christ, all Christians and even all the angels are father and mother,
sister and brother, and God himself takes care of me. O Christ, my
Redeemer and my shield! thy blood, thy death, all that Thou art and all
that Thou hast done—Thou thyself art mine!'[59]

[Sidenote: TYNDALE'S CHARITY AND ZEAL.]

Tyndale, strengthened by faith, redoubled his zeal in his Master's
service. That indefatigable man was not content to study the Scriptures
with eagerness: he desired to combine with learning the charity that
worketh. The English merchants of Antwerp, having given him a
considerable sum of money, he consecrated it to the poor; but he was not
content with mere giving. Besides Sunday he reserved two days in the
week, which he called his 'days of recreation.' On Monday he visited the
most out of the way streets of Antwerp, hunting in garrets for the poor
English refugees who had been driven from their country on account of
the Gospel; he taught them to bear Christ's burden, and carefully tended
their sick. On Saturday, he went out of the city, visiting the villages
and solitary houses, and 'seeking out every hole and corner.'[60] Should
he happen to meet some hard-working father burdened with children, or
some aged or infirm man, he hastened to share his substance with the
poor creatures. 'We ought to be for our neighbor,' he said, 'what Christ
has been for us.' This is what Tyndale called his 'pastime.'[61] On
Sunday morning he went to a merchant's house where a large room had been
prepared for evangelical worship, and read and explained the Scriptures
with so much sweetness and unction and in such a practical spirit that
the congregation (it was said) fancied they were listening to John the
Evangelist.[62] During the remainder of the week the laborious doctor
gave himself entirely to his translation. He was not one of those who
remain idle in the hope that grace may abound. 'If we are justified by
faith,' he said, 'it is in order that we may do Christian works.'

There came good news from London to console him for the death of Fryth.
In every direction people were asking for the New Testament; several
Flemish printers began to reprint it, saying: 'If Tyndale should print
2000 copies, and we as many, they would be few enough for all England.'
Four new editions of the sacred book issued from the Antwerp presses in
1534.

There was at that time living in the city a man little fitted to be
Tyndale's associate. George Joye, a fellow of Cambridge, was one of
those active but superficial persons, with little learning and less
judgment, who are never afraid to launch out into works beyond their
powers. Joye, who had left England in 1527, noticing the consideration
which Tyndale's labors brought to their author, and being also desirous
of acquiring glory for himself, began, though he knew neither Hebrew nor
Greek, to correct Tyndale's New Testament according to the Vulgate and
his own imagination. One day when Tyndale had refused to adopt one of
his extravagant corrections, Joye was touched to the quick: 'I am not
afraid to cope with him in this matter,' he said, 'for all his high
learning in Hebrew, Greek, and Latin.'[63] Tyndale knew more than these.
'He is master of seven languages,' said Busche, Reuchlin's disciple:
'Hebrew, Greek, Latin, Italian, Spanish, English, French, and so
thoroughly, that whichever he is speaking one might believe it to be his
mother tongue.'[64]

In the month of August Joye's translation appeared at Antwerp: he had
advertised it as 'clearer and more faithful.' Tyndale glanced over the
leaves of the work that had been so praised by its author, and was vexed
to find himself so unskilfully 'corrected.' He pointed out some of
Joye's errors, and made this touching and solemn declaration: 'I protest
in the presence of God and Jesus Christ, and before the whole assembly
of believers, that I have never written anything through envy, to
circulate any error, or to attract followers to me. I have never had any
other desire than to lead my brethren to the knowledge of Christ. And if
in what I have written or translated there should be anything opposed to
God's word, I beg all men to reject it as I reject it myself, before
Christ and his assembly.'

It was in November 1534 that Tyndale made this noble protest.

While Joye was waging this petty war against Tyndale, every ship that
came from London to Antwerp brought the cheering news that the great war
seemed to be dying out in England, and that the king and those around
him were drawing towards protestantism. A change had been worked in
Anne's mind analogous to that which had been wrought in her position.
She had been ambitious and worldly, but from the moment she ascended the
throne, her character had expanded; she had become queen, she wished to
be the mother of her people, especially of those who trod in the paths
of Holy Scripture. In the first transports of his affection, Henry had
desired to share all the honors of sovereignty with her, and she had
taken this high position more seriously than Henry had intended. When he
saw her whom he had placed by his side imagine that she had any power,
the selfish and jealous monarch knit his brows: this was the beginning
of the storm that drove Anne Boleyn from the throne to the scaffold. She
ventured to order Cromwell to indemnify the merchants who had suffered
loss for having introduced the New Testament into England. 'If a day
passes,' people said, 'without her having an opportunity of doing a
service to a friend of the Gospel, she is accustomed to say with Titus,
"I have lost a day."' Harman, a merchant of Antwerp and a man of
courage, who had helped Tyndale to publish the Gospel in English, had
been kept seven months in prison by Wolsey and Hacket.[65] Although set
at liberty, he was still deprived of his privileges and compelled to
suspend business. He came over to England, but instead of applying
either to the lord chancellor or to Cromwell for the restoration of his
rights, he went straight to the queen. Anne, who was then at Greenwich
palace, was touched by his piety and sufferings, and probably without
taking council of the king, she dictated the following message to the
prime minister, which we think worth quoting at full.

BY THE QUEEN.

_Anne the Queen._—Trusty and right well-beloved, we greet you well. And
whereas we be credibly informed that the bearer hereof, Richard Harman,
merchant and citizen of Antwerp in Brabant, was in the time of the late
lord cardinal put and expelled from his freedom and fellowship of and in
the English house there, for nothing else, as he affirmeth like a good
Christian man,[66] but only for that, that he did, both with his goods
and policy to his great hurt and hindrance in this world, help to the
setting forth of the New Testament in English. We therefore desire and
instantly pray you, that with all speed and favor convenient, you will
cause this good and honest merchant, being my Lord's true, faithful, and
loving subject, to be restored to his pristine freedom, liberty, and
fellowship aforesaid. And the sooner at this our request: and at your
good pleasure to hear him in such things as he hath to make further
relation unto you in this behalf.

Given under our signet at my Lord's manor of Greenwich, the xiv. day of
May.

To our trusty and well-beloved Thomas Cromwell, principal secretary to
his Majesty, the king my lord.

This intervention of the queen in favor of a persecuted evangelical was
much talked about. Some ascribed her conduct to the interests of her own
cause, others to humanity: most of the friends of the Reformation
regarded it as a proof that Anne was gained over to their convictions,
and Tyndale manifested his gratitude to the queen by presenting her with
a handsome copy of his New Testament.

[Sidenote: DISPLEASURE OF THE KING.]

What gave such joy to Tyndale annoyed the king greatly. Such a private
order as this coming from the queen singularly displeased a monarch
whose will it was that no business should be discussed except in his
council. There was also in this order, at least in Henry's eyes, a still
greater evil. The evangelical reformation, which Henry had so stoutly
combated and which he detested to the last, was making great progress in
England. On the 4th of July, 1533, Fryth, the friend of Harman and
Tyndale, was burnt at Smithfield, as being one of its followers; and ten
months later, on the 14th of May, 1534, Harman, the friend of Tyndale
and Fryth, had been declared 'a good Christian' by the queen. Anne dared
profess herself the friend of those whom the king hated. Did she design
to make a revolution—to oppose the opinions of her lord the king? That
letter did not remain without effect: it was reported that the friends
of the Word of God, taking advantage of these favorable dispositions,
were printing at Antwerp six separate editions of the New Testament, and
were introducing them into England.

[Sidenote: SNARES LAID FOR TYNDALE.]

It was not only the king who was irritated, the anger of the Romish
party was greater still; but as they dared not strike the queen, they
looked about for another victim. Neither Bishop Fisher, Sir Thomas More,
nor Henry VIII. appear to have had any part in this new crime. Gardiner,
now bishop of Winchester, gave a force to the episcopal body of which it
had long been deprived; and several prelates, 'incensed and inflamed in
their minds,' says a document,[67] called to remembrance that the best
means of drying up the waters of a river is to cut off its springs. It
was from Tyndale that all those writings proceeded—those Gospels which,
in their opinion, were leading England astray. The moment seemed
favorable for getting rid of him: he was actually in the states of
Charles V., that great enemy of the Reformation. Gardiner and his allies
determined to send into the Low Countries two persons with instructions
to keep an eye upon the reformer, to take him unawares, and have him put
to death. For this purpose they selected a very clever monk of Stratford
Abbey and a zealous young papist, who had the look of a gentleman, and
who (they hoped) would soon gain Tyndale's heart by his amiability.

It was about the end of the year 1534, while the reformer was still
living at Antwerp in the house of Thomas Poyntz, when one day, dining
with another merchant, he observed among the guests a tall young man of
good appearance whom he did not know. 'He is a fellow-countryman,' said
the master of the house, 'Mr. Harry Philips, a person of very agreeable
manners.'[68] Tyndale drew near the stranger and was charmed with his
conversation. After dinner, just as they were about to separate, he
observed another person near Philips, whose countenance from being less
open pleaded little in his favor. It was 'Gabriel, his servant,' he was
told. Tyndale invited Philips to come and see him: the young layman
accepted the invitation, and the candid reformer was so taken with him,
that he could not pass a day without him—inviting him at one time to
dinner, at another to supper. At length Philips became so necessary to
him that he prevailed upon him, with Poyntz's consent, to come and live
in the same house with him. For some time they had lost sight of
Gabriel, and on Tyndale's asking what had become of him, he was informed
that he had gone to Louvain, the centre of Roman clericalism in Belgium.
When Tyndale and Philips were once lodged beneath the same roof, their
intimacy increased: Tyndale had no secrets from his fellow-countryman.
The latter spent hours in the library of the hellenist, who showed him
his books and manuscripts, and conversed with him about his past and
future labors, and the means that he possessed for circulating the New
Testament throughout England. The translator of the Bible, all candor
and simplicity, supposing no evil, thinking nothing but good of his
neighbor, unbosomed himself to him like a child.

Philips, less of a gentleman than he appeared, was the son of a
tax-gatherer in Devonshire; and the pretended domestic, a disguised
monk, was that crafty and vicious churchman, who had been brought from
Stratford and given to the so-called gentleman—apparently as a servant,
but really as his counsellor and master. Neither Wolsey, More, nor
Hacket had succeeded in getting hold of Tyndale; but Gardiner, a man of
innate malice and indirect measures, familiar with all holes and
corners, all circumstances and persons, knew how to go to work without
noise, to watch his prey in silence, and fall upon it at the very moment
when he was least expected. Two things were required in order to catch
Tyndale: a bait to attract him, and a bird of prey to seize him. Philips
was the bait, and the monk Gabriel Dunne the bird of prey. The
noble-hearted Poyntz, a man of greater experience than the reformer, had
been for some time watching with inquisitive eye the new guest
introduced into his house. It was of no use for Philips to try to be
agreeable, there was something in him which displeased the worthy
merchant.[69] 'Master Tyndale,' he said one day to the reformer, 'when
did you make that person's acquaintance?'—'Oh! he's a very worthy
fellow,' replied the doctor, 'well-educated and a thorough gentleman.'
Poyntz said no more.

Meanwhile the monk had returned from Louvain, where he had gone to
consult with some leaders of the ultramontane party. If he and his
companion could gain Mr. Poyntz, it would be easy to lay hold of
Tyndale. They thought it would be sufficient to show the merchant that
they had money, imagining that every man was to be bought. One day
Philips said to Poyntz: 'I am a stranger here, and should feel much
obliged if you would show me Antwerp.' They went out together. Philips
thought the moment had come to let Poyntz know that he was well supplied
with gold, and even had some to give to others. 'I want to make several
purchases,' he said, 'and you would greatly oblige me by directing me. I
want the best goods. I have plenty of money,' he added.[70] He then took
a step farther, and sounded his man to try whether he would aid him in
his designs. As Poyntz did not seem to understand him, Philips went no
farther.

[Sidenote: IMPERIAL GOVERNMENT CONSULTED.]

As stratagem did not succeed, it was necessary to resort to force.
Philips by Gabriel's advice set out for Brussels in order to prepare the
blow that was to strike Tyndale. The emperor and his ministers had never
been so irritated against England and the Reformation. The troops of
Charles V. were in motion, and people expected to hear every moment that
war had broken out between the emperor and the king.[71] On arriving at
Brussels the young Englishman appeared at court and waited on the
government: he declared that he was a Roman catholic disgusted with the
religious reforms in England and devoted to the cause of Catherine. He
explained to the ministers of Charles V. that they had in the Low
Countries the man who was poisoning the kingdom; and that if they put
Tyndale to death, they would save the papacy in England. The emperor's
ministers, delighted to see Englishmen making common cause with them
against Henry VIII., conceded to Gardiner's delegate all that he asked.
Philips, sparing no expense to attain his end,[72] returned to Antwerp,
accompanied by the imperial prosecutor and other officers of the
emperor.

It was important to arrest Tyndale without having recourse to the city
authorities, and even without their knowledge. Had not the hanseatic
judges the strange audacity to declare, in Harman's case, that they
could not condemn a man without positive proof? The monk, who probably
had not gone to Brussels, undertook to reconnoitre the ground. One day,
when Poyntz was sitting at his door,[73] Gabriel went up to him and
said: 'Is Master Tyndale at home? My master desires to call upon him.'
They entered into conversation. Everything seemed to favor the monk's
designs: he learnt that in three or four days Poyntz would be going to
Bar-le-Duc, where he would remain about six weeks. It was just what
Gabriel wanted, for he dreaded the piercing eye of the English merchant.

[Sidenote: TREACHERY OF PHILIPS.]

Shortly after this, Philips arrived in Antwerp with the prosecutor and
his officers. The former went immediately to Poyntz's house, where he
found only the wife at home. 'Does Master Tyndale dine at home to-day?'
he said. 'I have a great desire to dine with him. Have you anything good
to give us?' 'What we can get in the market,' she replied
laconically.[74] 'Good, good,' said the perfidious papist as he turned
away.

The new Judas hurried to meet the officers, and agreed with them upon
the course to be adopted. When the dinner-hour drew near, he said: 'Come
along, I will deliver him to you.' The imperial prosecutor and his
followers, with Philips and the monk, proceeded towards Poyntz's house,
carefully noting everything and taking the necessary measures not to
attract observation. The entrance to the house was by a long narrow
passage. Philips placed some of the agents a little way down the street;
others, near the entrance of the alley. 'I shall come out with Tyndale,'
he told the agents; 'and the man I point out with my finger, is the one
you will seize.' With these words Philips entered the house; it was
about noon.

The creature was exceedingly fond of money; he had received a great deal
from the priests in England for the payment of his mission; but he
thought it would be only right to plunder his victim, before giving him
up to death. Finding Tyndale at home, he said to him, after a few
compliments: 'I must tell you my misfortune. This morning I lost my
purse between here and Mechlin,[75] and I am penniless. Could you lend
me some money?' Tyndale, simple and inexperienced in the tricks of the
world,[76] went to fetch the required sum, which was equivalent to
thirty pounds sterling. The delighted Philips put the gold carefully in
his pocket, and then thought only of betraying his kind-hearted friend.
'Well, Master Tyndale,' he said, 'we are going to dine together.' 'No,'
replied the doctor, 'I am going to dine out to-day; come along with me,
I will answer for it that you will be welcome.' Philips joyfully
consented; promptitude of execution was one element of success in his
business. The two friends prepared to start. The alley by which they had
to go out was (as we have said) so narrow that two persons could not
walk abreast. Tyndale, wishing to do the honors to Philips, desired him
to go first. 'I will never consent,' replied the latter, pretending to
be very polite.[77] 'I know the respect due to you—it is for you to lead
the way.' Then taking the doctor respectfully by the hand, he led him
into the passage. Tyndale, who was of middle height, went first, while
Philips, who was very tall, came behind him. He had placed two agents at
the entrance, who were sitting at each side of the alley. Hearing
footsteps they looked up and saw the innocent Tyndale approaching them
without suspicion, and over his shoulders the head of Philips. He was a
lamb led to slaughter by the man who was about to sell him. The officers
of justice, frequently so hardhearted, experienced a feeling of
compassion at the sight.[78] But the traitor, raising himself behind the
reformer, who was about to enter the street, placed his forefinger over
Tyndale's head, according to the signal which had been agreed upon, and
gave the men a significant look, as if to say to them, 'This is he!' The
men at once laid hands upon Tyndale who, in his holy simplicity, did not
at first understand what they intended doing. He soon found it out; for
they ordered him to move on, the officers following him, and he was thus
taken before the imperial prosecutor. The latter who was at dinner
invited Tyndale to sit down with him. Then ordering his servants to
watch him carefully, the magistrate set off for Poyntz's house. He
seized the papers, books, and all that had belonged to the reformer; and
returning home, placed him with the booty in a carriage, and departed.
The night came on, and after a drive of about three hours they arrived
in front of the strong castle of Vilvorde, built in 1375 by duke
Wenceslaus, situated two or three leagues from Brussels on the banks of
the Senne, surrounded on all sides by water and flanked by seven towers.
The drawbridge was lowered, and Tyndale was delivered into the hands of
the governor, who put him into a safe place. The reformer of England was
not to leave Vilvorde, as Luther left the Wartburg. This occurred, as it
would appear, in August 1535.[79]

[Sidenote: TYNDALE IMPRISONED.]

The object of his mission once attained, Philips, fearing the
indignation of the English merchants, escaped to Louvain. Sitting in
taverns or at the tables of monks, professors, and prelates—sometimes
even at the court of Brussels, he would boast of his exploit, and
desiring to win the favor of the imperialists would call Henry VIII. a
tyrant and a robber of the State.[80]

The English merchants of Antwerp, being reasonably offended, immediately
called upon the governor of the English factory to take measures in
favor of their countryman; but the governor refused. Tyndale, deprived
of all hope, sought consolation in God. 'Oh! what a happy thing it is to
suffer for righteousness' sake,' he said.[81] 'If I am afflicted on
earth with Christ, I have joy in the hope that I shall be glorified with
Him in heaven. Trials are a most wholesome medicine, and I will endure
them with patience. My enemies destine me for the stake, but I am as
innocent as a new-born child of the crimes of which they accuse me. My
God will not forsake me. O Christ, thy blood saves me, as if it had been
mine own that was shed upon the cross. God, as great as He is, is mine
with all that He hath.'[82]

Tyndale in his prison at Vilvorde was happier than Philips at court. If
we carefully study the history of the reformers, we recognize at once
that they were not simply masters of a pure doctrine, but also men of
lofty souls, Christians of great morality and exalted spirituality. We
cannot say as much of their adversaries; what a contrast here between
the traitor and his victim! The calumnies and insults of the enemies of
protestantism will deceive nobody. If it is sufficient to read the Bible
with a sincere heart in order to believe it; it is sufficient also to
know the lives of the reformers in order to honor them.

[59] Tyndale, _Treatises_, pp. 18, 110. (Parker Society.)

[60] Tyndale, _Treatises_, p. lxi. (Parker Society.)

[61] 'Thus he spent his two days of pastime, as he called them.'—_Ibid._

[62] 'Much like to the writings of St. John the Evangelist.'—_Ibid._

[63] Anderson, _Bible Ann._ p. 397.

[64] 'Ut quamcunque loquatur, in ea natum putes.'—Schelhorn, _Amœnitates
Litterariæ_, iv. p. 431.

[65] See _History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century_, vol. v.
book xx. chap. iv.

[66] The words 'like a good Christian man' are not given in the Strype
_Memorials_, i. p. 431. They have been erased in the original, probably
by some Roman catholic. Cotton MSS., Cleop. E. 5. fol. 330.

[67] 'The bishops incensed and inflamed in their minds.'—Foxe, _Acts_,
v. p. 121.

[68] 'A comely fellow, like a gentleman.'—Foxe, _Acts_, v. p. 121.

[69] 'Having no great confidence in the fellow.'—Foxe, _Acts_ v. p. 122.

[70] 'For, said he, I have money enough.'—Foxe, _Acts_, v. p. 122.

[71] 'There should have been war between the emperor and the
king.'—_Ibid._

[72] 'Which was not done with small charges and expenses.'—_Ibid._

[73] 'Poyntz sitting at his door.'—Foxe, _Acts_, v. p. 23.

[74] 'What good meat shall we have?' 'Such as the market will
give.'—_Ibid._

[75] Foxe, _Acts_, v. p. 23.

[76] 'For in the wily subtleties of this world he was simple and
inexpert.'—_Ibid._, p. 127.

[77] 'For that he pretended to show a great humanity.'—_Ibid._

[78] 'They pitied to see his simplicity.'—Foxe, _Acts_, v. p. 127.

[79] A letter from Poyntz to his brother John, in which he gives an
account of Tyndale's imprisonment, and which is preserved among the
Cotton MSS., is dated 15th August 1535.

[80] 'Tyrannum ac expilatorem reipublicæ.'—Cotton MSS., Galba B. x. 81.

[81] Tyndale, _Treatises_, ii. p. 28. (Parker Society.)

[82] Foxe, _Acts_, i. p. 19.




 CHAPTER IV.
 THE KING-PONTIFF AGAINST THE ROMAN-CATHOLICS AND THE PAPACY.
 (1534 AND 1535.)


[Sidenote: INSTRUCTIONS TO THE CLERGY.]

While the Roman papacy was triumphing in the Low Countries, a lay papacy
was being established in England. Henry VIII. gave his orders like a
sovereign bishop, _summus episcopus_, and the majority of the priests
obeyed him. They believed that such an extraordinary state of things
would be but of short duration, and thought that it was not worth the
trouble of dying in battle against what would perish of itself. They
muttered with their lips what the king ordered them, and waited for the
coming deliverance.

Every preacher was bound to preach once at least against the usurpations
of the papacy; to explain on that occasion the engagements made by the
pope with the king of England, the duplicity shown by Clement, and the
obligation by which the monarch was bound to thwart so much falsehood
and trickery. The ministers of the Church were ordered to proclaim the
Word of Christ purely, but to say nothing about the adoration of saints,
the marriage of priests, justification by works and other doctrines
rejected by the reformers, which the king intended to preserve. The
secular clergy generally obeyed.

There were however numerous exceptions, particularly in the north of
England, and the execution of Henry's orders gave rise to scenes more or
less riotous. Generally speaking, the partisans of Rome did not merit a
very lively interest; but we must give due credit to those who ventured
to resist a formidable power in obedience to conscientious principles.
There were here and there a few signs of opposition. On the 24th of
August Father Ricot, when preaching at Sion Monastery, called the king,
according to his orders, 'the head of the Church;' but added immediately
after, that he who had given the order was alone responsible before God,
and that he 'ought to take steps for the discharge of his conscience.'
The other monks went farther still: as soon as they heard Henry's new
title proclaimed, there was a movement among them. Father Lache, who far
from resembling his name was inflexible even to impudence, got up; eight
other monks rose with him and left the chapel 'contrary to the rule of
their religion' and to the great scandal of all the audience.[83] These
nine friars, boldly quitting the church one after another, were the
living protest of the monks of England. That their desire was not to
acknowledge Jesus Christ alone as head, is intelligible: they wanted to
maintain the dominion of the pope in the Church, and in the State also.
The king pope would have none of these freaks of independence. Bedell,
who had received Cromwell's order to inspect this convent, proposed to
send the nine monks to prison, 'to the terrible example of their
adherents.'[84]

The priests, finding that they must act with prudence, avoided a
repetition of such outbreaks and began secretly to school their
penitents in the confessional, bidding them employ mental reservations,
in order to conciliate everything. They set the example themselves: 'I
have abjured the pope _in the outward man_, but not _in the inward
man_,' said one of them to some of his parishioners.[85] The confessor
at Sion Monastery had proclaimed the king's new title and even preached
upon it; yet when one of his penitents showed much uneasiness because he
had heard Latimer say that the pope himself could not pardon sin: 'Do
not be afraid,' said the confessor; 'the pope is assuredly the head of
the Church. True, king and parliament have turned him out of office here
in England; but that will not last long. The world will change again,
you will see, and that too before long.'—'But we have made oath to the
king as head of the Church,' said some persons to a priest. 'What
matters!' replied he. 'An oath that is not very strictly made may be
broken the same way.'

These mental reservations, however, made many ecclesiastics and laymen
too feel uneasy. They longed for deliverance: they were on the look out;
they turned their eyes successively towards Ireland which had risen for
the pope, and towards the Low Countries, whence an imperial fleet was to
sail for the subjugation of England. Men grew excited. In the convents
there were fanatical and visionary monks who, maddened by the abuses of
power under which they suffered, and fired by persecution, dreamt of
nothing but reaction and vengeance, and expressed their cruel wishes in
daring language. One of them named Maitland, belonging to the Dominican
convent in London, exclaimed presumptuously, as if he were a prophet:
'Soon I shall behold a scaffold erected.... On that scaffold will pass
in turn the heads of all those who profess the new doctrine, and Cranmer
will be one of them.... The king will die a violent and shameful death,
and the queen will be burnt.' Being addicted to the black art, Maitland
pretended to read the future by the help of Satanic beings. All were not
so bold: there were the timid and fearful. Several monks of Sion House,
despairing of the papacy, were making preparations to escape and hide
themselves in some wilderness or foreign cloister. 'If we succeed,' they
said, 'we shall be heard of no more, and nobody will know where we are.'
This being told to Bedell, Cromwell's agent, he was content to say: 'Let
them go; the loss will not be great.' Roman-catholicism was, however, to
find more honorable champions.

[Sidenote: MORE REFUSES TO TAKE THE OATH.]

Two men, a layman and a bishop, celebrated throughout Christendom,
Fisher and Sir Thomas More, were about to present an opposition to the
king which probably he had not expected. Since More had fathomed the
king's intentions, and resigned the office of chancellor, he often
passed whole nights without sleep, shuddering at the future which
threatened him, and watering his bed with tears. He feared that he was
not firm enough to brave death. 'O God!' he exclaimed during his
agitated vigils, 'come and help me. I am so weak I could not endure a
fillip.'[86] His children wept, his wife stormed against her husband's
enemies, and he himself employed a singular mode of preparing his family
for the fate that awaited him. One day, when they were all at table, a
serjeant entered the room and summoned him to appear before the king's
commissioners. 'Be of good cheer,' said More; 'the time is not yet come.
I paid this man in order to prepare you for the calamity that hangs over
you.' It was not long delayed.

Shortly after the condemnation of Elizabeth Barton the nun, Sir Thomas
More, Fisher, and many other influential men were summoned to the
archbishop's palace to take the oath prescribed in the Act of
Succession. More confessed, received the sacrament, and forbidding his
wife and children to accompany him, as was their custom, to the boat
which was to carry him to Lambeth, he proceeded in great emotion towards
the place where his future would be decided. His startled family watched
him depart. The ex-chancellor taking his seat in the boat along with his
son-in-law William Roper, endeavored to restrain his tears and struggled
but without success against his sorrow. At length his face became more
serene, and turning to Roper, he whispered in his ear, 'I thank our
Lord, my son; the field is won.'[87] On his arrival at Lambeth palace,
where bishop Fisher and a great number of ecclesiastics assembled, More,
who was the only layman, was introduced first. The chancellor read the
form to him: it stated in the preamble that the troubles of England, the
oceans of blood that had been shed in it and many other afflictions,
originated in the usurped power of the popes; that the king was the head
of the Anglican Church, and that the bishop of Rome possessed no
authority out of his own diocese. 'I cannot subscribe that form,' said
More, 'without exposing my soul to everlasting damnation. I am ready to
give my adhesion to the Act of Succession which is a political act—but
without the preamble.' 'You are the first man who has refused,' said the
chancellor. 'Think upon it.' A great number of bishops, doctors, and
priests who were successively introduced, took the required oath. But
More remained firm, and so did bishop Fisher.[88]

Cranmer, who earnestly desired to save these two conscientious men,
asked Cromwell to accept the oath they proposed,[89] and the latter
consulted the king upon it. 'They must give way,' exclaimed Henry, 'or I
will make an example of them that shall frighten others.' As the king
was inexorable, they were attainted by act of parliament for refusing to
take the required oath, and sent to the Tower. This was in December
1534.[90]

The family of Sir Thomas More was plunged in affliction. His daughter
Margaret having obtained permission to see him, hurried to the Tower,
penetrated to his cell, and incapable of speaking, fell weeping into his
arms. 'Daughter,' said More, restraining himself with an effort, 'let us
kneel down.' He repeated the seven penitential Psalms, and then rising
up, said: 'Dear Meg, those who have put me here think they have done me
a high displeasure, but God treats me as He treats his best
friends.'[91] Margaret, who thought of nothing but to save her father,
exclaimed: 'Take the oath! death is hanging over your head.' 'Nothing
will happen to me but what pleases God,' replied Sir Thomas More. His
daughter left the Tower overwhelmed with grief. His wife, who also went
to see him, chancellor Audley, the dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk,
Cromwell, and other of the king's counsellors were not more successful
than Margaret. Bishop Fisher met similar solicitations with a similar
refusal.

[Sidenote: RESISTANCE OF THE CARTHUSIANS.]

As the king's government did not wish to hurry on the trial of these
illustrious men, they turned from the chiefs to the followers. The
Carthusians of London were in great odor of sanctity; they never spoke
except at certain times, ate no meat, and affirmed that God had visited
them in visions and miracles. Their house was not free from disorders,
but many of the monks took their vocation seriously. When the royal
commissioners visited them to tender the oath of succession, Prior
Haughton, a man of small stature but agreeable appearance and noble
carriage, appeared before them. The commissioners required him to
acknowledge Henry's second marriage to be lawful; Haughton at first
sought a loophole, and answered that the king might be divorced and
married without him or his monks having anything to say to it. 'It is
the king's command,' answered the commissioners, 'that you and your
brethren acknowledge by oath the lawfulness of his union. Call the monks
together.'[92] The Carthusians appeared, and all refused to take the
oath. The prior and proctor were consequently sent to the Tower. The
bishop of London used all his influence to make them change their
opinions, and succeeded in persuading them that they might take the
oath, by making several reservations. They therefore returned to the
Charter House and prevailed upon their brethren to do as they had done.

Immediately all was confusion in the monastery. Several monks in deep
distress could not tell which course to follow; others, more decided,
exclaimed that they would not yield at any price. 'They are minded to
offer themselves in sacrifice to the great idol of Rome,' wrote Bedell
to Cromwell.[93] At last, when the soldiers appeared to take the rebels
to the Tower, the terrified monks lost heart, and took the oath to the
new marriage of Henry VIII. 'so far as it was lawful.' The bitter cup
was removed, but not for long.

Whilst England was separating from Rome, Clement VII. was dying of
vexation.[94] The hatred felt by the Romans towards him[95] was only
equalled by the joy they experienced at the election of his successor.
Alexander Farnese, the choice of the French party, was a man of the
world, desirous of putting down the protestants, recovering England,
reforming the Church, and above all enriching his own family. When Da
Casale, Henry's envoy, presented his homage: 'There is nothing in the
world,' said Paul III. to him, 'that I have more at heart than to
satisfy your master.' It was too late.

[Sidenote: HENRY REJECTS THE PAPACY.]

Clement's behavior had produced an evil influence on the character of
the Tudor king. The services rendered by this prince to the papacy had
been overlooked, his long patience had not been rewarded: he fancied
himself despised and deceived. His pride was irritated, his temper grew
fiercer, his violence for some time restrained, broke out, and unable to
reach the pope, he revenged himself on the papacy. Until now, he had
scarcely been worse than most of the sovereigns of Christendom: from
this moment, when he proclaimed himself head of the Church, he became
harsh, and cared for nothing but gratifying his evil inclinations, his
despotic humors, his blood-thirsty cruelty. As a _prince_, he had at
times shown a few amiable qualities; as a _pope_, he was nothing but a
tyrant.

Henry VIII. observing the agitation his pretensions caused in England,
and wishing to strengthen his new authority, had caused several bills
concerning the Church to be brought into the parliament, which met on
the 3rd of November, 1534. The ministers who had drafted them, far from
being protestants, were zealous partisans of scholastic orthodoxy. It
was the cunning Gardiner, a furious Catholic; the duke of Norfolk who
assisted in the king's movements against Rome, only to prevent him from
falling into the arms of the reformers; and the politic Cromwell, who,
despite his zeal against the pope, declared at his death, possibly
giving a particular meaning to the words, that he died in the catholic
faith.[96]

The first act passed by parliament was the ratification of the king's
new title, already officially recognized by the clergy. Henry's
ministers knew how to make the law strict and rigorous. 'It is enacted,'
so ran the act, 'that our lord the king be acknowledged sole and supreme
head on earth of the Church of England; that he shall possess not only
the honors, jurisdictions, and profits attached to that dignity, but
also full authority to put down all heresies and enormities, whatever be
the customs and the laws that may be opposed to it.'[97] Shortly after,
on the 1st of February, parliament still more imperious, enacted that
'whoever should do anything tending to deprive the king or his heirs of
any of their titles, or should call him heretic, schismatic, usurper,
&c., should be guilty of high treason.'[98]

[Sidenote: THE KING, NOT HEAD OF THE CHURCH.]

Thus Henry VIII. united the two swords in his hand.—'A Mohammedan
union,' says a modern historian.[99] This writer might have contented
himself with calling it 'a papal union.' Whether a pope claims to be
king, or a king claims to be pope, it comes to nearly the same thing. At
the time when the Reformation was emancipating the long-enslaved Church,
a new master was given it, and what a master! The consciences of
Christians revolted against this order of things. One day—it was some
time later—Cranmer was asked: 'Who is the supreme head of the Church of
England?'—'Christ,' was the reply, 'as He is of the universal
Church.'—'But did you not recognize the king as supreme head of the
Church?'—'We recognized him as head of _all the people of England_,'
answered Cranmer, 'of _churchmen_ as well as of _laymen_.'[100]—'What!
not of the Church?' 'No! _Supreme head of the Church_ never had any
other meaning than what I tell you.' This is explicit. If the title
given Henry only signified that he was king of the clergy as well as of
the laity, and that the former were under the jurisdiction of the royal
courts as well as the latter, in all matters of common law, there can be
nothing fairer. But how was it that Cranmer did not find as much courage
in Henry's lifetime to speak according to his conscience, as when
examined in 1555 by Brokes, the papal sub-delegate? An interpretative
document drawn up by the government at almost the same time as the act
of parliament, corroborates however the explanation made by Cranmer; it
said: 'The title of supreme head of the Church gives the king no new
authority: it does not signify that he can assume any spiritual
power.'[101] This document declares that the words _reform abuses and
heresies_, indicate the authority which the king possesses to suppress
the powers which the bishop of Rome or other bishops have usurped in his
realm. 'We heartily detest,' said Fulke, master of Pembroke Hall,
Cambridge, 'the notion that the king can do what he likes in matters of
religion.'[102] Even Elizabeth refused the title of head of the
Church.[103] Probably these are facts which are not generally known.

[83] Bedell to Cromwell.—_State Papers_, i. p. 423.

[84] _Ibid._ p. 424.

[85] Father Forest of Greenwich. Bedell to Cromwell, MS. in Record
Office.

[86] More's _Life_, p. 218.

[87] More's _Life_, p. 218.

[88] 17th April, 1534. Cranmer's _Letters and Remains_, p. 286.

[89] Letter from Cranmer to Cromwell.—_Ibid._

[90] _State Papers_, i. p. 432.

[91] More's _Life_, p. 239.

[92] Strype, _Records_, i. p. 300.

[93] _State Papers_, i. p. 422.

[94] 'Fu questo dolore et affanno, che lo condusse alla morte.'—Soriano.

[95] 'Quem omnes mortales acerbissimo odio prosequebantur.'—_State
Papers_, vii. p. 573.

[96] 'I die in the catholic faith, not doubting.'—Foxe, _Acts_, v. p.
402.

[97] Acts of Supremacy: 26 Henry VIII. ch. 1. See Herbert, p. 408.

[98] _Ibid._ ch. 13.

[99] Friedrich von Raumer: _Geschichte Europas_, ii. p. 29.

[100] 'Of all the people of England, as well ecclesiastical or
temporal.—Cranmer, _Letters and Remains_, p. 224.

[101] 'Not that he should take any spiritual power from spiritual
ministers.'—_Heads of arguments concerning the power of the pope and the
royal supremacy._—MS. in Record Office.—Froude, ii. p. 326.

[102] Fulke's _Defence_, p. 489.

[103] Jewell's _Works_, iv. p. 1144.




 CHAPTER V.
 LIGHT FROM BOTH SIDES.
 (1534-1535.)


In England it was reserved for Catholics as well as for evangelicals to
give the world, amid great misery, remarkable examples of Christian
virtues. Latimer and others preached the truth courageously; martyrs
like Bilney, Tewkesbury, and Fryth had laid down their lives for the
Gospel. Now in the other party, laymen, monks, and priests, with
unquestionably a less enlightened piety, were about to furnish proofs of
their sincerity. There were Roman martyrs also. Two armies were in
presence; many fell on both sides; but there was a sensible difference
between this spiritual war and the wars of nations. Those who bit the
dust did not fall under the weapons of a hostile army; there was a third
power, the king-pope, who took his station between the two lines, and
dealt his blows now to the right, now to the left. Leaders of the
pontifical army were to be smitten in the struggle in which so many
evangelicals had already fallen.

[Sidenote: MORE'S WRETCHED CONDITION.]

Sir Thomas More, while in prison, strove to banish afflicting thoughts
by writing a history of Christ's passion. One day when he came to these
words of the Gospel: _Then came they and laid hands on Jesus, and took
Him_, the door opened, and Kingston, the governor of the Tower,
accompanied by Rich, the attorney-general, appeared. 'Sir Thomas,' said
Rich, 'if an act of parliament ordered all Englishmen to acknowledge me
as their king, would you acknowledge me?'—'Yes, sir.'[104]—'And if an
act of parliament ordered all Englishmen to recognize me as
pope?'—'Parliament has no authority to do it,' answered More. Sir Thomas
held that an act of parliament was sufficient to dethrone a king of
England: it is to a great grandson of More's that we are indebted for
this opinion, which a grand-nephew of Cromwell put in practice a hundred
years later. Was Henry VIII. exasperated because More disposed so freely
of his crown? It is possible, but be that as it may, the harshness of
his imprisonment was increased. Suffering preceded martyrdom. The
illustrious scholar was forced to pick up little scraps of paper on
which to write a few scattered thoughts with a coal.[105] This was not
the worst. 'I have neither shirt nor sute,'[106] he wrote to the chief
secretary of state, 'nor yet other clothes that are necessary for me to
wear, but that be ragged and rent too shamefully. Notwithstanding, I
might easily suffer that if that would keep my body warm. And now in my
age my stomach may not away but with a few kind of meats; which, if I
want, I decay forthwith, and fall into crases and diseases of my body,
and cannot keep myself in health.... I beseech you be a good master unto
me in my necessity, and let me have such things as are necessary for me
in mine age. Restore me to my liberty out of this cold and painful
imprisonment. Let me have some priest to hear my confession against this
holy time, and some books to say my devotions more effectually. The Lord
send you a merry Christmas.

'At the Tower, 23rd December.'

It is a relief to hope that this scandalous neglect proceeded from
heedlessness and not from cruelty. His requests were granted.

While these sad scenes were enacted in the Tower, there was great
confusion in all England, where the most opposite parties were in
commotion. When the traditional yoke was broken, every man raised up his
own banner. The friends of More and Fisher wished to restore the papacy
of the Roman bishop; Henry VIII., Cromwell, and the court thought how to
establish the supremacy of the king; finally, Cranmer and a few men of
the same stamp, endeavored to steer between these quicksands, and
aspired to introduce the reign of Holy Scripture under the banner of
royalty. This contest between forces so different, complicated too by
the passions of the sovereign, was a terrible drama destined to wind up
not in a single catastrophe, but in many. Illustrious victims, taken
indiscriminately from all parties, were to fall beneath the oft-repeated
blows and be buried in one common grave.

The prudent Cranmer lived in painful anxiety. Surrounded by enemies who
watched every step, he feared to destroy the cause of truth, by
undertaking reforms as extensive as those on the continent. The natural
timidity of his character, the compromises he thought it his duty to
make with regard to the hierarchy, his fear of Henry VIII., his
moderation, gentleness, and plasticity of character and in some respects
of principle, prevented his applying to the work with the decision of a
Luther, a Calvin, or a Knox. Tyndale, if he had possessed the influence
that was his due, would have accomplished a reform similar to that of
those great leaders. To have had him for a reformer would, in
Wickliffe's native land, have been the source of great prosperity; but
such a thing was impossible: his country gave him—not a professor's
chair but exile. Cranmer moved forward slowly: he modified an
evangelical movement by a clerical concession. When he had taken a step
forward, he stopped suddenly, and apparently drew back; not from
cowardice, but because his extreme prudence so urged him. The boldness
of a Farel or a Knox is in our opinion far more noble; and yet this
extreme moderation saved Cranmer and protestantism with him. Near a
throne like that of Henry's, it was only a man of extreme precaution who
could have retained his position in the see of Canterbury. If Cranmer
should come into collision with the Tudor's sceptre, he will find that
it is a sword. God gives to every people and to every epoch the man
necessary to it. Cranmer was this man for England, at the time of her
separation from the papacy. Notwithstanding his compromises, he never
abandoned the great principles of the Reformation; notwithstanding his
concessions, he took advantage of every opportunity to encourage those
who shared his faith to march towards a better future. The primate of
England held a torch in his hand which had not the brilliancy of that
borne by Luther and Calvin, but the tempest that blew upon it for
fifteen or twenty years could not extinguish it. Sometimes he was seized
with terror: as he heard the lion roar, he bent his head, kept in the
background, and concealed the truth in his bosom; but again he rose and
again held out to the Church the light he had saved from the fury of the
tyrant. He was a reed and not an oak—a reed that bent too easily, but
through this very weakness he was able to do what an oak with all its
strength would never have accomplished. The truth triumphed.

[Sidenote: TRANSLATION OF THE SCRIPTURES.]

At this time Cranmer thought himself in a position to take a step—the
most important step of all: he undertook to give the Bible to the laity.
When the convocation of clergy and parliament had assembled, he made a
proposition that the Holy Scriptures should be translated into English
by certain honorable and learned men, and be circulated among the
people.[107] To present Holy Scripture as the supreme rule instead of
the pope, was a bold act that decided the evangelical reformation.
Stokesley, Gardiner, and the other bishops of the catholic party cried
out against such a monstrous design: 'The teaching of the Church is
sufficient,' they said; 'we must prohibit Tyndale's Testament and the
heretical books which come to us from beyond the sea.' The archbishop
saw that he could only carry his point by giving up something: he
consented to a compromise. Convocation resolved on the 19th of December,
1534, to lay Cranmer's proposal before the king, but with the addition
that the Scriptures translated into the vulgar tongue should only be
circulated among the king's subjects in proportion to their knowledge,
and that all who possessed suspected books should be bound to give them
up to the royal commissioners: others might have called this resolution
a defeat, Cranmer looked upon it as a victory. The Scriptures would no
longer be admitted stealthily into the kingdom, like contraband goods:
they would appear in broad daylight with the royal sanction. This was
something.

Henry granted the petition of Convocation, but hastened to profit by it.
His great fixed idea was to destroy the Roman papacy in England, not
because of its errors, but because he felt that it robbed princes of the
affection and often of the obedience of their subjects. 'If I grant my
bishops what they ask for,' he said, 'in my turn I ask them to make oath
never to permit any jurisdiction to be restored to the Roman bishop in
my kingdom; never to call him _pope_, universal _bishop_, or most holy
lord, but only bishop of Rome, colleague and brother, according to the
ancient custom of the oldest bishops.'[108] All the prelates were eager
to obey the king; but the archbishop of York, secretly devoted to the
Roman Church, added, to acquit his conscience, 'that he took the oath in
order to preserve the unity of the faith and of the Catholic
Church.'[109]

Cranmer was filled with joy by the victory he had won. 'If we possess
the Holy Scriptures,' he said, 'we have at hand a remedy for every
disease. Beset as we are with tribulations and temptations, where can we
find arms to overcome them? In Scripture. It is the balm that will heal
our wounds, and will be a more precious jewel in our houses than either
gold or silver.'[110] He therefore turned his mind at once to the
realization of the plan he had so much at heart. Taking for groundwork
an existing translation (doubtless that by Tyndale), he divided the New
Testament into ten portions, had each transcribed separately, and
transmitted them to the most learned of the bishops, praying that they
might be returned to him with their remarks. He even thought it his duty
not to omit such decided catholics as Stokesley and Gardiner.

[Sidenote: SEDITIOUS PRIESTS AND PREACHERS.]

The day appointed for the return and examination of these various
portions having arrived (June 1553), Cranmer set to work, and found that
the _Acts of the Apostles_ were wanting: they had fallen to the lot of
the bishop of London. When the primate's secretary went to ask for the
manuscript, Stokesley replied in a very bad humor: 'I do not understand
my lord of Canterbury. By giving the people the Holy Scriptures, he will
plunge them into heresy. I certainly will not give an hour to such a
task. Here, take the book back to my lord.' When the secretary delivered
his message, Thomas Lawness, one of Cranmer's friends, said with a
smile: 'My lord of London will not take the trouble to examine the
Scriptures, persuaded that there is nothing for him in the Testament of
Jesus Christ.' Many of the portions returned by the other bishops were
pitiable. The archbishop saw that he must find colleagues better
disposed.

Cranmer had soon to discharge another function. As popery and rebellion
were openly preached in the dioceses of Winchester and London,[111] the
metropolitan announced his intention to visit them. The two bishops
cried out vehemently, and Gardiner hurried to the king: 'Your Grace,' he
said, 'here is a new pope!' All who had anything to fear began to
reproach the primate with aspiring to honors and dominion. 'God forgive
me,' he said with simplicity, 'if there is any title in the world I care
for more than _the paring of an apple_.[112] Neither paper, parchment,
lead, nor wax, but the very Christian conversation of the people, are
the letters and seals of our office.' The king supported Cranmer,
knowing that certain of the clergy preached submission to the pope. The
visitation took place. Even in London priests were found who had taken
the oath prescribed by Henry VIII., and who yet 'made a god of the Roman
pontiff,[113] setting his power and his laws above those of our Lord.'
'I command you,' said the king, 'to lay hold of all who circulate those
pernicious doctrines.'

Francis I. watched these severities from afar. He feared they would
render an alliance between France and England impossible. He therefore
sent Bryon, high-admiral of France, to London, to reconcile the king
with the pope, to strengthen the bonds that united the two countries,
and at the same time, he prevailed upon Paul III. to withdraw the decree
of Clement VII. against Henry VIII.[114] But success did not crown his
efforts: the king of England had no great confidence in the sincerity of
the pope or of the French king. He was well pleased to be no longer
confronted by a foreign authority in his own dominions, and thought that
his people would never give up the Reformation. Instead of being
reconciled with the Roman pontiff, he found it more convenient to
imitate the pope, and to break out against those subjects who refused to
recognize him, the king, as head of the Church.

[Sidenote: RESOLUTION OF THE CARTHUSIANS.]

He first attacked the Carthusians, the most respectable of the religious
orders in England, and whom he considered as the most dangerous. Where
there was the most goodness, there was also the most strength; and that
strength gave umbrage to the despotic Tudor king.

Monastic life, abominable in its abuses, was, even in principle,
contrary to the Gospel. But we must confess that there was a certain
harmony between the wants of society in the Middle Ages and conventual
establishments. Many and various motives drove into the cloisters the
men that filled them; and if some were condemnable, there were others
whose value deserves to be appreciated. It was these earnest monks who,
even while defending the royalty of the pope, rejected most
energetically the papacy of the king: this was enough to draw down upon
them the royal vengeance. One day a messenger from the court brought to
the Charter-House of London an order to reject the Roman authority. The
monks, summoned by their prior, remained silent when they heard the
message, and their features alone betrayed the trouble of their
minds.[115] 'My heart is full of sorrow,' said Prior Haughton. 'What are
we to do? If we resist the king, our house will be shut up, and you
young men will be cast into the midst of the world, so that after
commencing here in the spirit you will end there in the flesh. But, on
the other hand, how can we obey? Alas! I am helpless to save those whom
God has entrusted to my care!' At these words the Carthusians 'fell all
a-weeping;'[116] and then taking courage from the presence of danger
they said: 'We will perish together in our integrity; and heaven and
earth shall cry out against the injustice that oppresses us.'—'Would to
God it might be so,' exclaimed the Superior; 'but this is what they will
do. They will put me to death—me and the oldest of us—and they will turn
the younger ones into the world, which will teach them its wicked works.
I am ready to give up my life to save you; but if one death does not
satisfy the king, then let us all die!'—'Yes, we will all die,' answered
the brethren.—'And now let us make preparation by a general confession,'
said the prior, 'so that the Lord may find us ready.'

Next morning the chapel-doors opened and all the monks marched in. Their
serious looks, their pale countenances, their fixed eyes seemed to
betoken men who were awaiting their last moments. The prior went into
the pulpit and read the sixtieth Psalm: '_O God, thou hast cast us
off._' On coming to the end, he said: 'My brethren, we must die in
charity. Let us pardon another.' At these words Haughton came down from
the pulpit, and knelt in succession before every brother, saying: 'O my
brother, I beg your forgiveness of all my offences!' The other monks,
each in his turn, made this last confession.

Two days afterwards they celebrated the mass of the Holy Ghost.
Immediately after the elevation, the monks fancied they heard 'a small
hissing wind.'[117] Their hearts were filled with a tender affection:
they believed that the Holy Ghost was descending upon them, and the
prior, touched by this surprising grace, burst into tears. Enthusiasm
mingled extraordinary fantasies with their pious emotions.

The king had evidently not much to fear in this quarter. His crown was
threatened by more formidable enemies. In various parts, especially in
Lincolnshire and Yorkshire,[118] there were daring partisans of the
papacy to be found who endeavored to stir up the people to revolt; and
thousands of Englishmen in the North were ready to help them by force of
arms. At the same time Ireland wished to transport her soldiers across
St. George's Channel and hurl the king from his throne. The decision
with which Fisher, Sir Thomas More, and the Carthusians resisted Henry
had not immediate insurrection for its object, but it encouraged the
multitude to revolt. The government thinking, therefore, that it was
time to strike, sent the Carthusians an absolute order to acknowledge
the royal supremacy.

[Sidenote: ROME AND LIBERTY INCOMPATIBLE.]

At this time there was in reality no liberty on one side or the other.
Rome, by not granting it, was consistent with herself; but not so the
protestantism that denies it. The Reformation, acknowledging no other
sovereign Lord and Teacher than God, must of necessity leave the
conscience to that Supreme Master, man having nothing to do with it. But
the Roman Church, acknowledging a man as its head, and honoring the pope
as the representative of God on earth, claims authority over the soul.
Men may say in vain that they are in harmony with God and His Word: that
is not the question. The great business is to be in accord with the
pope. That old man, throned in the Vatican on the traditions of the
School and the bulls of his predecessors, is their judge: they are bound
to follow exactly his line, without wavering either to the right or the
left. If they reject an article, a jot of a papal constitution, they
must be cast away. Such a system, the enemy of every liberty, even of
the most legitimate, rose in the sixteenth century like a high wall to
separate Rome and the new generation. It threatened to destroy in the
future that power which had triumphed in the past.

After the festival of Easter 1535, the heads of two other Carthusian
houses—Robert Laurence, prior of Belleval, and Augustine Webster, prior
of Axholm—arrived in London in obedience to an order they had received,
and, in company with Prior Haughton, waited upon Cromwell. As they
refused to acknowledge the royal supremacy, they were sent to the Tower.
A week later, they consented to take the oath, adding: 'So far as God's
law permits.'—'No restrictions,' answered Cromwell. On the 29th of April
they were placed on their trial, when they said: 'We will never believe
anything contrary to the law of God and the teaching of our holy mother
Church.' At first the jury expressed some interest in their behalf; but
Haughton uselessly embittered his position. 'You can only produce in
favor of your opinion,' he said, 'the parliament of one single kingdom;
for mine, I can produce all Christendom.' The jury found the three
prisoners guilty of high-treason.[119] Thence the government proceeded
to more eminent victims.

Fisher and More, confined in the same prison, were now treated with more
consideration.[120] It was said, however, that these illustrious
captives were endeavoring, even in the Tower, to excite the people to
revolt. The king and Cromwell could hardly have believed it, but they
imagined that if these two leading men gave way, their example would
carry the recalcitrants with them: they were therefore exposed to a new
examination. But they proved as obstinate as their adversaries, and
perhaps more skilful. 'I have no more to do with the titles to be given
to popes and princes,' said Sir Thomas; 'my thoughts are with God
alone.'[121]

The court hoped to intimidate these eminent personages by the execution
of the three priors, which took place on the 4th May, 1535. Margaret
hurried to her father's side. Before long the procession passed under
his window, and the affectionate young woman used every means to draw
Sir Thomas away from the sight; but he would not avert his eyes. When
all was over, he turned to his daughter: 'Meg,' he said, 'you saw those
saintly fathers; they went as cheerfully to death as if they were
bridegrooms going to be married.'[122]

[Sidenote: EXECUTION OF THE CARTHUSIANS.]

The prisoners walked calmly along: they wore their clerical robes, the
ceremony of degradation not having been performed, no doubt to show that
a papal consecration could not protect offenders. Haughton, prior of the
London Charter-House, mounted the ladder first. 'I pray all who hear
me,' he said, 'to bear witness for me in the terrible day of judgment,
that it is not out of obstinate malice or rebellion that I disobey the
king, but only for the fear of God.' The rope was now placed round his
neck. 'Holy Jesus!' he exclaimed, 'have mercy on me,' and he gave up the
ghost. The other priors then stepped forward. 'God has manifested great
grace to us,' they said, 'by calling us to die in defence of the
catholic faith. No, the king is not head of the Church of England.' A
few minutes later and these monks, dressed in the robes of their order,
were swinging in the air. This was one of the crimes committed when the
unlawful tiara of the pontiffs was placed unlawfully on the head of a
king of England. Other Carthusians were put to death somewhat later.

Meanwhile Henry VIII. desired to preserve a balance between papists and
heretics. The Roman tribunals struck one side only, but this strange
prince gloried in striking both sides at once. An opportunity of doing
so occurred. Some anabaptists from the Low Countries were convicted on
the 25th of May: two of them were taken to Smithfield and twelve others
sent to different cities, where they suffered the punishment by fire.
All of them went to death with cheerful hearts.[123]

The turn of the illustrious captives was at hand.

[104] More's _Life_, p. 252.

[105] _Ibid._ p. 253.

[106] Strype, _Ecclesiastical Memorials_, i. p. 270.

[107] Cranmer's _Memorials_, p. 24.

[108] 'Bishop of Rome and fellow-brother.'—Wilkins, _Concilia_, iii. p.
280.

[109] Lee to Cromwell.—_State Papers_, i. p. 428.

[110] Cranmer's _Letters and Remains_, p. 120.

[111] 'They rather preached sedition than edification.'—Cranmer,
_Letters and Remains_, p. 296.

[112] _Ibid._ p. 305.

[113] 'Making him a god.' The king's letter.—Strype, _Records_, i. p.
208.

[114] See _State Papers_, vol. vii., containing the letters, &c., of
Cromwell, Henry VIII., Da Casale, Bryon, and Francis I. (March to June
1535.)

[115] _Histor. Martyrum Angl._—Strype, _Records_, i. p. 302. This
narrative rests specially upon the testimony of a Carthusian which,
though partial, bears however a character of truth.

[116] Strype, _Records_, i. p. 301.

[117] Vitus to Dalker, _Hist. Mart. Angl._—Strype, _Records_, i. p. 302.

[118] Coverdale, _Remains_, p. 329.—Cranmer's _Letters and Remains_, pp.
351, 352, 354.

[119] Strype, _Memorials_, i. p. 305.

[120] 'Tractabantur humanius atque mitius quam par fuisset pro eorum
demeritis.'—_State Papers_, vii. p. 634.

[121] More's _Life_, p. 256.

[122] _Ibid._ p. 246.

[123] Tyndale, i. p. lxx.—Latimer, i. p. 60.—Collyer, ii. p. 99.




 CHAPTER VI.
 EXECUTION OF BISHOP FISHER AND SIR THOMAS MORE.
 (MAY TO SEPTEMBER 1535.)


Not long after the death of the Carthusians, Cromwell paid More a visit.
Henry VIII. loved his former chancellor, and desired to save his life.
'I am your friend,' said Cromwell, 'and the king is a good and gracious
lord towards you.' He then once again invited More to accept the act of
parliament which proclaimed the king's supremacy; and the same steps
were taken with Fisher. Both refused what was asked. From that moment
the execution of the sentence could not be long delayed. More felt this,
and as soon as the Secretary of State had left him, he took a piece of
coal and wrote some verses upon the wall, expressive of the peace of his
soul.

[Sidenote: FISHER'S LAST DAYS.]

Henry and his minister seemed however to hesitate. It had not troubled
them much to punish a few papists and obscure anabaptists; but to put to
death an ex-chancellor of the realm and an old tutor of the king—both
personages so illustrious and so esteemed throughout Christendom—was
another thing. Several weeks passed away. It was an act of the pope's
that hastened the death of these two men. About the 20th of May,
Paul III. created a certain number of cardinals: John Du Bellay,
Contarini, Caracciolo, and lastly, Fisher, bishop of Rochester. The news
of this creation burst upon Rome and London like a clap of thunder. Da
Casale, Henry's agent at the papal court, exclaimed that it was offering
his master the greatest affront possible: the matter was the talk of the
whole city.[124] 'Your holiness has never committed a more serious
mistake than this,' said Da Casale to the pope.[125] Paul tried to
justify himself. As England desired to become reconciled with the
Vatican, he said, it seemed to him that he could not do better than
nominate an English cardinal. When Fisher heard the news, he said
piously: 'If the cardinal's hat were at my feet, I would not stoop to
pick it up.' But Henry did not take the matter so calmly: he considered
Paul's proceedings as an insolent challenge. Confer the highest honors
on a man convicted of treason—is it not encouraging subjects to revolt?
Henry seemed to have thought that it would be unnecessary to take away
the life of an old man whose end could not be far off; but the pope
exasperated and braved him. Since they place Fisher among the cardinals
in Rome, in England he shall be counted among the dead. Paul may, as
long as he likes, send him the hat; but when the hat arrives, there
shall be no head on which to place it.[126]

On the 14th of June, 1535, Thomas Bedell and other officers of justice
proceeded to the Tower. The bishop would give no answer to the demand
that he should recognize the king as head of the Church. Sir Thomas
More, when questioned in his turn, replied: 'My only study is to
meditate on Christ's passion.'[127] 'Do you acknowledge the king as
supreme head of the Church?' asked Bedell. 'The royal supremacy is
established by law.'—'That law is a two-edged sword,' returned the
ex-chancellor. 'If I accept it, it kills my soul; if I reject it, it
kills my body.'[128]

Three days later the bishop was condemned to be beheaded. When the order
for his execution arrived, the prisoner was asleep: they respected his
slumber. At five o'clock the next morning, 22nd of June, 1535, Kingston
entering his cell, aroused him and told him that it was the king's good
pleasure he should be executed that morning. 'I most humbly thank his
Majesty,' said the old man, 'that he is pleased to relieve me from all
the affairs of this world. Grant me only an hour or two more, for I
slept very badly last night.' Then turning towards the wall, he fell
asleep again. Between seven and eight o'clock he called his servant,
took off the hair-shirt which he wore next his skin to mortify the
flesh, and gave it to the man. 'Let no one see it,' he said. 'And now
bring me my best clothes.'—'My lord,' said the astonished servant, 'does
not your lordship know that in two hours you will take them off never to
put them on again?'—'Exactly so,' answered Fisher; 'this is my
wedding-day, and I ought to dress as if for a holiday.'[129]

[Sidenote: FISHER'S CHRISTIAN DEATH.]

At nine o'clock the lieutenant appeared. The old man took up his New
Testament, made the sign of the cross, and left the cell. He was tall,
being six feet high, but his body was bent with age, and his weakness so
great that he could hardly get down the stairs. He was placed in an
arm-chair. When the porters stopped near the gate of the Tower to know
if the sheriffs were ready, Fisher stood up, and leaning against the
wall opened his Testament, and lifting his eyes to heaven, he said: 'O
Lord! I open it for the last time. Grant that I may find some word of
comfort to the end that I may glorify thee in my last hour.' The first
words he saw were these: _And this is life eternal, that they might know
thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent_.[130]
Fisher closed the book and said: 'That will do. Here is learning enough
to last me to my life's end.'[131]

The funeral procession was set in motion. Clouds hid the face of the
sun; the day was gloomy; the streets through which they passed seemed
dull and in harmony with men's hearts. A large body of armed men
surrounded the pious old man, who kept repeating in a low tone the words
of his Testament: _Hæc est autem vita æterna, ut cognoscant te solum
Deum et quem misisti Jesum Christum_. They reached Smithfield. 'We will
help you to ascend,' said his bearers at the foot of the scaffold. 'No,
sirs,' he replied, and then added in a cheerful tone: 'Come, feet! do
your duty, you have not far to go.'[132] Just as he mounted the
scaffold, the sun burst out and shone upon his face: _They looked unto
him and were lightened_, he cried, _and their faces were not
ashamed_.[133] It was ten o'clock. The noble bearing and piety of the
aged bishop inspired all around him with respect. The executioner knelt
before him and begged his forgiveness. 'With all my heart,' he made
answer. Having laid aside his robe and furred gown, he turned to the
people, and said with gravity and joy: 'Christians, I give my life for
my faith in the holy catholic Church of Christ. I do not fear death.
Assist me, however, with your prayers, so that when the axe falls I may
remain firm. God save the king and the kingdom!' The brightness of his
face at this moment struck the spectators. He fell on his knees and
said: 'Eternal God, my hope is in thy deliverance.' The executioner
approached and bound his eyes. The bishop raised his hands, uttered a
cry towards heaven, and laid his head on the block. The doomsman seized
his heavy axe, and cut off the head at one blow. It was exposed by
Henry's orders on London bridge; but soldiers carried the body to
Barking church-yard, where they dug a lowly grave for it with their
halberds. Doubts have been thrown upon the details of this death; we
believe them to be authentic, and it is a pleasure by reporting them to
place a crown on the tomb of a Roman-catholic bishop whose end was that
of a pious man.

It was now the turn of Sir Thomas More. On the 1st of July, 1535, he was
summoned before the court of King's Bench. The former Chancellor of
England quitted his prison in a frieze cloak, which had grown foul in
the dungeon, and proceeded on foot through the most frequented streets
of London on his road to Westminster. His thin pale face; his white
hair, the effect not of time but of sorrow and imprisonment; the staff
on which he leant,[134] for he walked with difficulty, made a deep
impression on the people. When he arrived at the bar of that tribunal
over which he had so often presided, and looked around him, though
weakened by suffering, with a countenance full of mildness, all the
spectators were moved. The indictment was long and perplexed:[135] he
was accused of high-treason. Sir Thomas, endeavoring to keep on his
feet, said: 'My Lords, the charges brought against me are so numerous,
that I fear, considering my great weakness, I shall be unable to
remember them all.' He stopped: his body trembled and he was near
falling. A chair was brought him, and after taking his seat, he
continued: 'I have never uttered a single word in opposition to the
statute which proclaims the king head of the Church.'—'If we cannot
produce your words,' said the king's attorney, 'we can produce your
silence.'—'No one can be condemned for his silence,' nobly answered
More. '_Qui tacet consentire videtur_, Silence gives consent, according
to the lawyers.'[136]

[Sidenote: SIR THOMAS MORE SENTENCED.]

Nothing could save him: the jury returned a verdict of guilty. 'Now that
all is over,' said the prisoner, 'I will speak. Yes, the oath of
supremacy is illegal. The Great Charter laid down that _the Church of
England is free_, so that its rights and liberties might be equally
preserved.'[137]—'The Church must be _free_,' said the lawyers: 'it is
not therefore the slave of the pope.'—'Yes, _free_,' retorted More; 'it
is not therefore the slave of the king.' The chancellor then pronounced
sentence, condemning him to be hanged at Tyburn, and then quartered,
while still alive. Henry spared his illustrious subject and old friend
from this cruel punishment, and ordered that he should be merely
beheaded. 'God save all my friends from his Majesty's favor,' said Sir
Thomas, 'and spare my children from similar indulgences.... I hope, my
lords,' said the ex-chancellor, turning meekly towards his judges, 'that
though you have condemned me on earth, we may all meet hereafter in
heaven.'

Sir William Kingston approached; armed guards surrounded the condemned
man, and the sad procession moved forward. One of the Tower wardens
marched in front, bearing an axe with the edge turned towards More;[138]
it was a token to the people of the prisoner's fate. As soon as he
crossed the threshold of the court, his son, who was waiting for him,
fell at his feet distracted and in tears: 'Your blessing, father,' he
exclaimed, 'your blessing!' More raised him up, kissed him tenderly, and
blessed him. His daughter Margaret was not there: she had fainted
immediately on hearing of her father's condemnation.[139] He was taken
back to prison in a boat, perhaps to withdraw this innocent and
illustrious man, treated like a criminal, from the eyes of the citizens
of London. When they got near the Tower, the governor, who had until
then kept his emotion under, turned to More and bade him farewell, the
tears running down his cheeks.[140] 'My dear Kingston,' said the noble
prisoner, 'do not weep; we shall meet again in heaven.'—'Yes!' said the
lieutenant of the Tower, adding: 'you are consoling me, when I ought to
console you.' An immense crowd covered the wharf at which the boat was
to land. Among this crowd, so eager for the mournful spectacle, was a
young woman, trembling with emotion and silently waiting for the
procession: it was Margaret. At length she heard the steps of the
approaching guards, and saw her father appear. She could not move, her
strength failed her; she fell on her knees just where she had stood. Her
father, who recognized her at a distance, giving way to the keenest
emotions, lifted up his hands and blessed her. This was not enough for
Margaret. The blessing had caused a strong emotion in her, and had
restored life to her soul. Regardless of her sex, her age, and the
surrounding crowd, that feeble woman, to whom at this supreme moment
filial piety gave the strength of many men, says a contemporary,[141]
flew towards her father, and bursting through the officers and
halberdiers by whom he was surrounded,[142] fell on his neck and
embraced him, exclaiming: 'Father, father!' She could say no more; grief
stopped her voice: she could only weep, and her tears fell on her
father's bosom.[143] The soldiers halted in emotion; Sir Thomas, the
prey at once of the tenderest love and inexpressible grief, felt as if a
sword had pierced his heart.[144] Recovering himself, however, he
blessed his child, and said to her in a voice whose emotion he strove to
conceal: 'Daughter, I am innocent; but remember that however hard the
blow with which I am struck, it comes from God. Submit thy will to the
good pleasure of the Lord.'

[Sidenote: MORE AND HIS DAUGHTER.]

The captain of the escort, wishing to put an end to a scene that might
agitate the people, bade two soldiers take Margaret away; but she clung
to her father with arms that were like bars of iron, and it was with
difficulty that she could be removed.[145] She had been hardly set on
the ground a few steps off, when she sprang up again, and thrusting
those who had separated her from him she so loved, she broke through the
crowd once more, fell upon his neck, and kissed him several times with a
convulsive effort. In her, filial love had all the vehemence of passion.
More, whom the sentence of death had not been able to move, lost all
energy, and the tears poured down his cheeks. The crowd watched this
touching scene with deep excitement, and 'they were very few in all
the troop who could refrain from weeping; no, not the guards
themselves.'[146] Even the soldiers wept, and refused to tear the
daughter again from her father's arms. Two or three, however, of the
less agitated stepped forward and carried Margaret away. The women of
her household, who had accompanied her, immediately surrounded her and
bore her away from a sight of such inexpressible sadness. The prisoner
entered the Tower.

Sir Thomas spent six more days and nights in prison. We hear certainly
of his pious words, but the petty practices of an ascetic seemed to
engross him too much. His macerations were increased: he walked up and
down his cell, wearing only a winding-sheet as if he were already a
corpse waiting to be buried.[147] He often scourged himself for a long
time together, and with extraordinary violence. Yet at the same time he
indulged in Christian meditations. 'I am afflicted,' he wrote to one of
his friends, 'shut up in a dungeon; but God in His mercy will soon
deliver me from this world of tribulation. Walls will no longer separate
us, and we shall have holy conversations together, which no jailer will
interrupt.'[148] On the 5th of July, desiring to bid his daughter a last
farewell, More took a piece of charcoal (he had nothing else), and wrote
to her: 'To-morrow is St. Thomas's day, and my saint's day; accordingly,
I desire extremely that it may be the day of my departure. My child, I
never loved you so dearly as when last you kissed me. I like when
daughterly love has no leisure to look unto worldly courtesy.[149]...
Farewell, my dearly beloved daughter; pray for me. I pray for you all,
to the end that we may meet in heaven.'

Thus one of the closest and holiest affections, that of a father for his
daughter, and of a daughter for her father, softened the last moments of
this distinguished man. Sir Thomas sent Margaret his hair-shirt and
scourge, which he desired to conceal from the eyes of the indifferent.
What an inheritance!

That night he slept quietly, and the next morning early (6th of July,
1535), a fortnight after the death of the bishop, Sir Thomas Pope, one
of his familiar friends, came to inform him that he must hold himself in
readiness. 'I thank the king,' said More, 'for shutting me up in this
prison, whereby he has put me in a condition to make suitable
preparation for death. The only favor I beg of him is, that my daughter
may be present at my burial.' Pope left the cell in tears. Then the
prisoner put on a fine silk robe which his wealthy friend Bonvisi, the
merchant of Lucca, had given him. 'Leave that dress here,' said
Kingston, 'for the man to whom it falls by custom is only a jailer.'—'I
cannot look upon that man as a jailer,' answered More, 'who opens the
gates of heaven for me.'

[Sidenote: EXECUTION OF SIR THOMAS MORE.]

At nine o'clock the procession quitted the Tower. More was calm, his
face pale, his beard long and curly; he carried a crucifix in his hand,
and his eyes were often turned towards heaven. A numerous and
sympathizing crowd watched him pass along—a man one time so honored,
lord chancellor, lord chief-justice, president of the house of
Lords—whom armed men were now leading to the scaffold. Just as he was
passing in front of a house of mean appearance, a poor woman standing at
the door, went up to him and offered him a cup of wine to strengthen
him: 'Thank you,' he said gently, 'thank you; Christ drank vinegar
only.' On arriving at the place of execution: 'Give me your hand to help
me up,' he said to Kingston, adding: 'As for my coming down, you may let
me shift for myself.'[150] He mounted the scaffold. Sir Thomas Pope, at
the king's request, had begged him to make no speech, fearing the effect
this illustrious man might produce upon the people. More desired however
to say a few words, but the sheriff stopped him. 'I die,' he was content
to say, 'in the faith of the catholic Church, and a faithful servant of
God and the king.' He then knelt down and repeated the fifty-first
Psalm:[151] _Have mercy upon me, O God, according to thy
loving-kindness: according unto the multitude of thy tender mercies blot
out my transgressions_. When he rose up, the executioner begged his
forgiveness: 'Why do you talk of forgiveness?' replied More; 'you are
doing me the greatest kindness I ever received from man.' He desired the
man not to be afraid to do his office, and remarked that his neck was
very short. With his own hands he fastened a bandage over his eyes, and
then laid his head on the block. The executioner, holding the axe, was
preparing to strike, when More stopped him, and putting his beard
carefully on one side, said: 'This at least has not committed treason.'
Such words, almost jesting, no doubt, startle us at such a moment; but
strong men have often been observed to manifest the calmness of their
souls in such a manner. More probably feared that his long beard would
embarrass the executioner, and deaden the blow. At length that head
fell, through which so many noble thoughts had passed; that keen clear
eye was closed; those eloquent lips were the lips of a corpse. The head
was exposed on London bridge, and Margaret discharged the painful duty
her father had bequeathed her, by piously burying his body.

[Sidenote: HENRY'S VICTIMS.]

Thus, at the cost of his life, this eminent man protested against the
aberrations of a cruel prince, who usurped the title given by the Bible
to Jesus Christ alone. The many evangelical martyrs who had been
sacrificed in different countries and who were to be sacrificed, showed
in general, to a greater extent than Fisher and More, an ardent love for
the Saviour, a lively hope of eternal life; but none showed greater
calmness than they. These two good men wanted discernment as to what
constitutes the pure Gospel; their piety bound them too much, as we have
said, to monastic practices; they had (and More especially) in the days
of their power persecuted the disciples of the Lord, and though they
rejected the usurpations of the king, had acted as fanatical defenders
of those of the pope. But at a time when there were so many cringing
bishops and servile nobles—when almost every one bent the head timidly
before the mad popery of Henry VIII., these two firmly held up theirs.
More and Fisher were companions in misfortune with Bilney and Fryth: the
same royal hand struck them all. Our sympathies are for the victims, our
aversion for the executioner.

The death of these two celebrated men caused an immense sensation. In
England, the people and even the nobility were struck with astonishment.
Could it be true, men asked, that Thomas More, whom Henry had known
since he was nine years old, with whom he used to hold friendly
conversations by night on the terrace of his country-house, at whose
table he used to love to sit down familiarly, whom he had chosen,
although a layman and a knight only, to succeed the powerful
Wolsey:—could it be true that by the king's orders he had perished by
the axe? Could it be true that Fisher had met with the same fate—that
venerable old man of fourscore years, who had been his preceptor, the
trusty friend of his grandmother, and to whose teaching he owed the
progress he had made in learning? Men began to see that resistance to a
Tudor was the scaffold. Every one trembled, and even those who had not
known the two victims could not restrain their tears.[152]

The horror which these executions caused among the enlightened men of
the continent was displayed with more liberty and energy. 'I am dead,'
exclaimed Erasmus, 'since More is dead: for, as Pythagoras says, we had
but one soul between us.'[153]—'O England! O dearly beloved country,'
said Reginald Pole; 'he was not only Margaret's father, but thine
also!'—'This year is fatal to our order,' said Melanchthon the reformer;
'I hear that More has been killed and others also. You know how such
things wring my heart.'[154]—'We banish such criminals,' said Francis I.
sharply to the English ambassador, 'but we do not put them to
death.'—'If I had two such lights in my kingdom,' said Charles V., 'I
would sooner give two of my strongest cities than suffer them to be
extinguished.' At Rome in particular the anger was terrible. They were
still flattering themselves that Henry VIII. would return to his old
sympathies; but now there was no more hope! The king had put to death a
prince of the Church, and as he had sworn, the cardinal's hat could find
no head to wear it. A consistory was immediately summoned: Cardinal de
Tournon's touching letter was read, and all who heard it were moved even
to tears. The embarrassed and speechless agents of England knew not what
to do; and as they reported, there was everything to be feared.

Perhaps nobody was so confounded as the pontiff. Paul III. was
circumspect, prudent, deliberative, and temporizing; but when he thought
the moment arrived, when he believed further manœuvring was not
required, he no longer hesitated, but struck forcibly. It is known that
he had two young relations whom, in his blind tenderness, he had
created cardinals, notwithstanding their youth and the emperor's
representations. 'Alas!' he exclaimed, 'I feel as mortally injured, as
if my two nephews had been killed before my eyes.'[155] His most devoted
partisans, and above all a cardinal of his creation put to death! There
was a violent movement in his heart; he worked himself into a fury; he
desired to strike the prince whose cruel deeds had wounded him so
deeply. His anger burst out in a thunder-clap. On the 30th of August he
issued a bull worthy of Gregory VII., which the more zealous partisans
of the papacy would like to remove from the papal records.[156] 'Let
King Henry repent of his crimes,' said the pontiff; 'we give him ninety
days and his accomplices sixty to appear at Rome. In case of default, we
strike him with the sword of anathema, of malediction, and of eternal
damnation;[157] we take away his kingdom from him; we declare that his
body shall be deprived of ecclesiastical burial; we launch an interdict
against his States; we release his subjects from their oath of fidelity;
we call upon all dukes, marquises and earls to expel him and his
accomplices from England; we unbind all Christian princes from their
oaths towards him, command them to march against him and constrain him
to return to the obedience due to the Holy Apostolic See, giving them
all his goods for their reward, and he and his to be their slaves.'[158]

Anger had the same effect upon the pontiff as inebriety; he had lost the
use of his reason, and allowed himself to be carried away to threats and
excesses of which he would have been ashamed, had he been sober.
Accordingly the drunkenness was hardly over, before the unfortunate Paul
hastened to hide his bull, and carefully laid aside his thunderbolts in
the arsenal, free to bring them out later.

[Sidenote: HENRY'S PALTRY EXCUSES.]

Henry VIII., more calm than the pope, having heard of his discontent,
feared to push him to extremities; and Cromwell, a month after the date
of the bull, instructed Da Casale to justify the king to the Vatican.
'Fisher and More,' he was to say, 'had on all points of the internal
policy of England come to conclusions diametrically opposed to the quiet
and prosperity of the kingdom. They had held secret conversations with
certain men notorious for their audacity, and had poured into the hearts
of these wretches the poison which they had first prepared in their
own.[159] Could we permit their crime, spreading wider and wider, to
give a death-blow to the State? Fisher and More alone opposed laws which
had been accepted by the general consent of the people, and were
necessary to the prosperity of the kingdom. Our _mildest_ of sovereigns
could not longer tolerate an offence so atrocious.'[160]

Even these excuses accuse and condemn Henry. Neither More nor Fisher had
entered into a plot against the State; their resistance had been purely
religious; they were free to act according to their consciences. It
might have been necessary to take some prudential measures in an age as
yet little fitted for liberty; but nothing could excuse the scaffold,
erected by the king's orders, for men who were regarded with universal
respect.

[124] 'Qua de re tota urbe sermo fuit.'—_State Papers_, vii. p. 604.

[125] 'Nunquam alias gravius erratum fuisse.'—_Ibid._

[126] 'Eo maturius truncatur capite.'—Erasmi _Epp._ i. p. 1543.

[127] Interrogatories.—_State Papers_, i. p. 432.

[128] More's _Life_, p. 271.

[129] Fuller, p. 203.

[130] John xvii. 3. The Testament was in Latin.

[131] Fuller, p. 204.

[132] 'Eia, pedes, officium facite; parum itineris jam restat.'—Sanders,
p. 79.

[133] Psalm xxxiv. 5.

[134] 'He went thither leaning on his staff.'—More's _Life_, p. 255.

[135] 'Longa et perplexa accusatio.'—Polus, _Pro Unitatis Defensione_,
p. 63.

[136] More's _Life_, p. 260. Herbert: _Henry VIII._ p. 393.

[137] 'Ecclesia Anglicana libera sit, et habeat omnia jura integra, et
libertates suas illæsas.'—Herbert: _Henry VIII._ p. 268.

[138] More's _Life_, p. 274.

[139] 'Exanimata dolore.'—Polus, _Pro Unitatis Defensione_.

[140] More's _Life_, p. 274.

[141] 'Cui jam pietas multorum virorum robur addiderat.'—Polus, _Pro
Unitatis Defensione_, p. 66.

[142] 'Passing through the midst of the guards, who with bills and
halberts compassed him round.'—More's _Life_, p. 276.

[143] 'Lacrymis sinum ejus applebat.'—Polus, _Pro Unitatis Defensione_,
p. 66.

[144] 'What a sword was this to his heart.'—More's _Life_, p. 278.

[145] 'Ut vix ab eo divelli posset.'—Polus, _Pro Unitatis Defensione_,
p. 66.

[146] More's _Life_, p. 277.

[147] 'With a sheet about him, like a corpse ready to be buried.'—More's
_Life_, p. 279.

[148] 'Ubi non arcebit a colloquio janitor.'—_Ad. Anton. Bonvisum
mercatorem Lucensem._

[149] More's _Life_, p. 280.

[150] More's _Life_, p. 286.

[151] The fiftieth of the Vulgate: _Miserere mei, Deus_.

[152] 'Lacrimas tenere non potuerunt.'—Polus, _Pro Unitatis,
Defensione_, p. 66.

[153] In Moro mihi videor extinctus, adeo _mia psuche_, juxta
Pythagoram, duobus erat.'—Erasmi _Epp._ p. 1938.

[154] _Corpus Reformatorum_, ii. p. 918. The 'order' means that of men
of letters.

[155] 'Si videret ante se, occisos duos suos nepotes.'—_State Papers_,
vii. p. 621.

[156] Lingard, iii. ch. iv.

[157] 'Anathematis, maledictionis, et damnationis eternæ mucrone
percutimus.'—_Bullarium Romanum_, 3 Kal. Septemb. 1535.

[158] 'Et eos capientium servos fieri decernentes.'—_Ibid._

[159] 'In horum sinum, jam antea conceptum pectore venenum
evomebant.'—_State Papers_, vii. p. 634.

[160] 'Sustinere diutius non potuit mitissimus Rex istorum culpam tam
atrocem.'—_State Papers_, vii. p. 635.




 CHAPTER VII.
 VISITATION OF THE MONASTERIES: THEIR SCANDALS AND SUPPRESSION.
 (SEPTEMBER 1535 TO 1536.)


The death of the late tutor and friend of the prince was to be followed
by a measure less cruel but far more general. The pope who treated kings
so rudely should not be surprised if kings treated the monks severely.
Henry knew—had indeed been a close witness of their lazy and often
irregular lives. One day, when he was hunting in the forest of Windsor,
he lost his way, perhaps intentionally, and about the dinner hour
knocked at the gate of Reading Abbey. As he represented himself to be
one of his Majesty's guards, the abbot said: 'You will dine with me;'
and the king sat down to a table covered with abundant and delicate
dishes. After examining everything carefully: 'I will stick to this
sirloin,' said he, pointing to a piece of beef of which he eat
heartily.[161] The abbot looked on with admiration. 'I would give a
hundred pounds,' he exclaimed, 'to eat with as much appetite as you; but
alas! my weak and qualmish stomach can hardly digest the wing of a
chicken.'—'I know how to bring back your appetite,' thought the king. A
few days later some soldiers appeared at the convent, took away the
abbot, and shut him up in the Tower, where he was put upon bread and
water. 'What have I done,' he kept asking, 'to incur his Majesty's
displeasure to such a degree?' After a few weeks, Henry went to the
state prison, and concealing himself in an ante-room whence he could see
the abbot, ordered a sirloin of beef to be set before him. The famished
monk in his turn fell upon the joint, and (according to tradition) eat
it all. The king now showed himself: 'Sir abbot,' he said, 'I have cured
you of your qualms; now pay me my wages. It is a hundred pounds, you
know.' The abbot paid and returned to Reading; but Henry never after
forgot the monks' kitchen.

[Sidenote: STATE OF THE MONASTERIES.]

The state of the monasteries was an occasion of scandal: for many
centuries all religious life had died out in most of those
establishments. The monks lived, generally, in idleness, gluttony, and
licentiousness, and the convents which should have been houses of saints
had become in many cases mere sties of lazy gormandizers and impure
sensualists. 'The only law they recognize,' said Luther, speaking of
these cloisters, 'is that of the seven deadly sins.' History encounters
here a twofold danger: one is that of keeping back what is essential,
the scandalous facts that justify the suppression of monasteries; the
other is that of saying things that cannot be named. We must strive to
steer between these two quicksands.

All classes of society had become disgusted with the monasteries: the
common people would say to the monks: 'We labor painfully, while you
lead easy and comfortable lives.' The nobility regarded them with looks
of envy and irony which threatened their wealth. The lawyers considered
them as parasitical plants, which drew away from others the nutriment
they required. These things made the religious orders cry out with
alarm: 'If we no longer have the pope to protect us, it is all over with
us and our monasteries.' And they set to work to prevent Henry from
separating from the pope: they circulated anonymous stories, seditious
songs, trivial lampoons, frightful prophecies and biting satires against
the king, Anne Boleyn, and the friends of the Reformation. They held
mysterious interviews with the discontented, and took advantage of the
confessional to alarm the weak-minded. 'The supremacy of the pope,' they
said, 'is a fundamental article of the faith: none who reject it can be
saved.' People began to fear a general revolt.

When Luther was informed that Henry VIII. had abolished the authority of
the pope in his kingdom, but had suffered the religious orders to
remain, he smiled at the blunder: 'The king of England,' he said,
'weakens the body of the papacy but at the same time strengthens the
soul.'[162] That could not endure for long.

[Sidenote: CROMWELL'S ADVICE.]

Cromwell had now attained high honors and was to mount higher still. He
thought with Luther that the pope and the monks could not exist or fall
one without the other. After having abolished the Roman pontiff, it
became necessary to abolish the monasteries. It was he who had prevailed
on the king to take the place of head of the Church; and now he wished
him to be so really. 'Sire,' he said to Henry, 'cleanse the Lord's field
from all the weeds that stifle the good corn, and scatter everywhere the
seeds of virtue.[163] In 1525, 1528, 1531 and 1534 the popes themselves
lent you their help in the suppression of monasteries; now you no longer
require their aid. Do not hesitate, Sire: the most fanatical enemies of
your supreme authority are to be found in the convents. There is buried
the wealth necessary to the prosperity of the nation. The revenues of
the religious orders are far greater than those of all the nobility of
England. The cloister schools have fallen into decay, and the wants of
the age require better ones. To suppress the pope and to keep the monks
is like deposing the general and delivering the fortresses of the
country up to his army. Sire, imitate the example of the protestants and
suppress the monasteries.'

Such language alarmed the friends of the papacy, who stoutly opposed a
scheme which they believed to be sacrilegious. 'These foundations were
consecrated to Almighty God,' they told the king; 'respect therefore
those retreats where pious souls live in contemplation.'[164]
'Contemplation!' said Sir Henry Colt smiling; 'tomorrow, Sire, I
undertake to produce proofs of the kind of contemplation in which these
monks indulge.' Whereupon, says an historian, Colt, knowing that a
certain number of the monks of Waltham Abbey had a fondness for the
conversation of ladies, and used to pass the night with the nuns of
Chesham Convent, went to a narrow path through which the monks would
have to pass on their return, and stretched across it one of the stout
nets used in stag-hunting. Towards daybreak, as the monks, lantern in
hand, were making their way through the wood, they suddenly heard a loud
noise behind them—it was caused by men whom Colt had stationed for the
purpose—and instantly blowing out their lights they were hurrying away,
when they fell into the toils prepared for them.[165] The next morning,
he presented them to the king, who laughed heartily at their piteous
looks. 'I have often seen better game,' he said, 'but never fatter.
Certainly,' he added, 'I can make a better use of the money which the
monks waste in their debaucheries. The coast of England requires to be
fortified, my fleet and army to be increased, and harbors to be built
for the commerce which is extending every day.[166] All that is well
worth the trouble of suppressing houses of impurity.'

The protectors of the religious orders were not discouraged, and
maintained that it was not necessary to shut all the convents, because
of a few guilty houses.

[Sidenote: REVIVING INFLUENCE OF THE LAITY.]

Dr. Leighton, a former officer of Wolsey's, proposed a middle course:
'Let the king order a general visitation of monasteries,' he said, 'and
in this way he will learn whether he ought to secularize them or not.
Perhaps the mere fear of this inspection will incline the monks to yield
to his Majesty's desires.' Henry charged Cromwell with the execution of
this measure, and for that purpose named him vicegerent and
vicar-general, conferring on him all the ecclesiastical authority which
belonged to the king.[167] 'You will visit all the churches,' he said,
'even the metropolitan, whether the see be vacant or not; all the
monasteries both of men and women; and you will correct and punish
whoever may be found guilty.' Henry gave to his vicar precedence over
all the peers, and decided that the layman should preside over the
assembly of the clergy instead of the primate; overlook the
administration not only of the bishops but also of the archbishops;
confirm or annul the election of prelates, deprive or suspend them, and
assemble synods. This was at the beginning of September 1535. The
influence of the laity thus re-entered the Church, but not through the
proper door. They came forward in the name of the king and his
proclamations, whilst they ought to have appeared in the name of Christ
and of His Word. The king informed the primate, and through him all the
bishops and archdeacons, that as the general visitation was about to
commence, they should no longer exercise their jurisdiction.[168] The
astonished prelates made representations, but they were unavailing: they
and their sees were to be inspected by laymen. Although the commission
of the latter did not contain the required conditions, namely the
delegation of the flocks, this act was a pretty evident sign that the
restoration of the members of the Church to their functions was at that
time foreseen and perhaps even regarded by many as one of the most
essential parts of the Reformation of England.

The monks began to tremble. Faith in the convents no longer existed—not
even in the convents themselves. Confidence in monastic practices,
relics, and pilgrimages had grown weaker; the timbers of the monasteries
were worm-eaten, their walls were just ready to fall, and the edifice of
the Middle Ages, tottering on its foundations, was unable to withstand
the hearty blows dealt against it. When an antiquary explores some
ancient sepulchre, he comes upon a skeleton, apparently well preserved,
but crumbling into dust at the slightest touch of the finger; in like
manner the puissant hand of the sixteenth century had only to touch most
of these monastic institutions to reduce them to powder. The real
dissolver of the religious orders was neither Henry VIII. nor Cromwell:
it was the devouring worm which, for years and centuries, they had
carried in their bosom.

The vicar-general appointed his commissioners[169] and then assembled
them as a commander-in-chief calls his generals together. In the front
rank was Dr. Leighton, his old comrade in Wolsey's household, a skilful
man who knew the ground well and did not forget his own interests. After
him came Dr. Loudon, a man of unparalleled activity, but without
character and a weathercock turning to every wind. With him was Sir
Richard Cromwell, nephew of the vicar-general, an upright man, though
desirous of making his way through his uncle's influence. He was the
ancestor of another Cromwell, far more celebrated than Henry VIII.'s
vicegerent. Other two were Thomas Legh and John Apprice, the most daring
of the colleagues of the king's ministers; besides other individuals of
well known ability. The vicegerent handed to them the instructions for
their guidance, the questions they were to put to the monks, and the
injunctions they were to impose on the abbots and priors; after which
they separated on their mission.

The Universities, which sadly needed a reform, were not overlooked by
Henry and his representative. Since the time when Garret, the priest of
a London parish, circulated the New Testament at Oxford, the sacred
volume had been banished from that city, as well as the _Beggar's
Petition_ and other evangelical writings. Slumber had followed the
awakening. The members of the university, especially certain
ecclesiastics who, forsaking their parishes, had come and settled at
Oxford, to enjoy the delights of Capua,[170] passed their lives in
idleness and sensuality. The royal commissioners aroused them from this
torpor. They dethroned Duns Scotus, 'the subtle doctor,' who had reigned
there for three hundred years, and the leaves of his books were
scattered to the winds. Scholasticism fell; new lectures were
established; philosophical teaching, the natural sciences, Latin, Greek,
and divinity were extended and developed. The students were forbidden to
haunt taverns, and the priests who had come to Oxford to enjoy life,
were sent back to their parishes.

[Sidenote: CRANMER DENOUNCES ROME.]

The visitation of the monasteries began with those of Canterbury, the
primatial church of England. In October 1535, shortly after Michaelmas,
Dr. Leighton, the visitor, entered the cathedral, and Archbishop Cranmer
went up into the pulpit. He had seen Rome: he had an intimate conviction
that that city exerted a mischievous influence over all Christendom; he
desired, as primate, to take advantage of this important opportunity to
break publicly with her. 'No,' he said, 'the bishop of Rome is not God's
vicar. In vain you will tell me that the See of Rome is called _Sancta
Sedes_, and its bishop entitled _Sanctissimus Papa_: the pope's holiness
is but a holiness in name.[171] Vain-glory, worldly pomp, unrestrained
lust, and vices innumerable prevail in Rome. I have seen it with my own
eyes. The pope claims by his ceremonies to forgive men their sins: it is
a serious error. One work only blots them out, namely, the death of our
Lord Jesus Christ. So long as the See of Rome endures, there will be no
remedy for the evils which overwhelm us. These many years I had daily
prayed unto God that I might see the power of Rome destroyed.'[172]
Language so frank necessarily displeased the adherents of the pope, and
accordingly, when Cranmer alluded to his energetic daily prayer, the
Superior of the Dominicans, trembling with excitement, exclaimed: 'What
a want of charity!'

He was not the only person struck with indignation and fear. As soon as
the sermon was over, the Dominicans assembled to prevent the archbishop
from carrying out his intentions. 'We must support the papacy,' they
said, 'but do it prudently.' The prior was selected, as being the most
eloquent of the brothers, to reply to Cranmer. Going into the pulpit, he
said: 'The Church of Christ has never erred. The laws which it makes are
equal in authority to the laws of God Himself. I do not know a single
bishop of Rome who can be reproached with vice.'[173] Evidently the
prior, however eloquent he might be, was not learned in the history of
the Church.

[Sidenote: MONKISH DEPRAVITIES.]

The visitation of the Canterbury monasteries began. The immorality of
most of these houses was manifested by scandalous scenes, and gave rise
to questions which we are forced to suppress. The abominable vices that
prevailed in them are mentioned by St. Paul in his description of the
pagan corruptions.[174] The commissioners having taken their seats in
one of the halls of the Augustine monastery, all the monks came before
them, some embarrassed, others bold, but most of them careless. Strange
questions were then put to men who declared themselves consecrated to a
devout and contemplative life: 'Are there any among you,' asked the
commissioners, 'who disguising themselves, leave the convent and go
vagabondizing about? Do you observe the vow of chastity, and has any one
been convicted of incontinence? Do women enter the monastery,[175] or
live in it habitually?' We omit the questions that followed. The result
was scandalous: eight of the brothers were convicted of abominable
vices. The black sheep having been set apart for punishment, Leighton
called the other monks together, and said to them: 'True religion does
not consist in shaving the head, silence, fasting, and other
observances; but in uprightness of soul, purity of life, sincere faith
in Christ, brotherly love, and the worship of God in spirit and in
truth. Do not rest content with ceremonies, but rise to sublimer things,
and be converted from all these outward practices to inward and deep
considerations.'[176]

One visitation still more distressing followed this. The Carthusian
monastery at Canterbury, four monks of which had died piously, contained
several rotten members. Some of them used to put on lay dresses, and
leave the convent during the night. There was one house for monks and
another for nuns, and the blacksmith of the monastery confessed that a
monk had asked him to file away a bar of the window which separated the
two cloisters. It was the duty of the monks to confess the nuns; but by
one of those refinements of corruption which mark the lowest degree of
vice, the sin and absolution often followed close upon each other. Some
nuns begged the visitors not to permit certain monks to enter their
house again.[177]

The visitation being continued through Kent, the visitors came on the
22nd of October to Langdon Abbey, near Dover. William Dyck, abbot of the
monastery of the Holy Virgin, possessed a very bad reputation. Leighton,
who was determined to surprise him, ordered his attendants to surround
the abbey in such a manner that no one could leave it. He then went to
the abbot's house, which looked upon the fields, and was full of doors
and windows by which any one could escape.[178] Leighton began to knock
loudly, but no one answered. Observing an axe, he took it up, dashed in
the door with it, and entered. He found a woman with the monk, and the
visitors discovered in a chest the men's clothes which she put on when
she wished to pass for one of the younger brethren. She escaped, but one
of Cromwell's servants caught her and took her before the mayor at
Dover, where she was placed in the cage. As for the holy father abbot,
says Leighton, he was put in prison. A few of the monks signed an act by
which they declared that their house being threatened with utter ruin,
temporal and spiritual, the king alone could find a remedy, and they
consequently surrendered it to his Majesty.[179]

The abbot of Fountains had ruined his abbey by publicly keeping six
women. One night he took away the golden crosses and jewels belonging to
the monastery, and sold them to a jeweller for a small sum.[180] At
Mayden-Bradley, Leighton found another father prior, one Richard, who
had five women, six sons, and a daughter pensioned on the property of
the convent: his sons, tall, stout young men, lived with him and waited
on him. Seeing that the Roman Church prohibited the clergy from obeying
the commandment of Scripture, which says: _A bishop must be the husband
of one wife_, these wretched men took five or six. The impositions of
the monks to extort money injured them in public opinion far more then
their debauchery. Leighton found in St. Anthony's convent at Bristol a
tunic of our Lord, a petticoat of the Virgin, a part of the Last Supper,
and a fragment of the stone upon which Jesus was born at Bethlehem.[181]
All these brought in money.

Every religious and moral sentiment is disgusted at hearing of the
disorders and frauds of the monks, and yet the truth of history requires
that they should be made known. Here is one of the means—of the
blasphemous means—they employed to deceive the people. At Hales in
Gloucestershire, the monks pretended that they had preserved some of
Christ's blood in a bottle. The man whose deadly sins God had not yet
pardoned could not see it, they said; while the absolved sinner saw it
instantaneously. Thousands of penitents crowded thither from all parts.
If a rich man confessed to the priest and laid his gift on the altar, he
was conducted into the mysterious chapel, where the precious vessel
stood in a magnificent case. The penitent knelt down and looked, but saw
nothing. 'Your sin is not yet forgiven,' said the priest. Then came
another confession, another offering, another introduction into the
sanctuary; but the unfortunate man opened his eyes in vain, he could see
nothing until his contribution satisfied the monks. The commissioners
having sent for the vessel, found it to be a 'crystall very thick on one
side and very transparent on the other.'[182] 'You see, my lords,' said
a candid friar, 'when a rich penitent appears, we turn the vessel on the
thick side; that, you know, opens his heart and his purse.'[183] The
transparent side did not appear until he had placed a large donation on
the altar.

[Sidenote: THE FRAUD AT BOXLEY.]

No discovery produced a greater sensation in England than that of the
practices employed at Boxley in Kent. It possessed a famous crucifix,
the image on which, carved in wood, gave an affirmative nod with the
head, if the offering was accepted, winked the eyes and bent the body.
If the offering was too small, the indignant figure turned away its head
and made a sign of disapproval.[184] One of the Commissioners took down
the crucifix from the wall, and discovered the pipes which carried the
wires that the priestly conjuror was wont to pull.[185] Having put the
machine in motion, he said: 'You see what little account the monks have
made of us and our forefathers.' The friars trembled with shame and
alarm, while the spectators, says the record, roared with laughter, like
Ajax.[186] The king sent for the machine, and had it worked in the
presence of the court. The figure rolled its eyes, opened its mouth,
turned up its nose, let its head fall, and bent its back. 'Upon my
word,' said the king, 'I do not know whether I ought not to weep rather
than laugh, on seeing how the poor people of England have been fooled
for so many centuries.'

These vile tricks were the least of the sins of those wretches. In
several convents the visitors found implements for coining base
money.[187] In others they discovered traces of the horrible cruelties
practised by the monks of one faction against those of another.
Descending into the gloomy dungeons, they perceived, by the help of
their torches, the bones of a great number of wretched people, some of
whom had died of hunger and others had been crucified.[188] But
debauchery was the most frequent case. Those pretended priests of a God
who has said: _Be ye holy, for I the Lord am holy_, covered themselves
with the hypocritical mantle of their priesthood, and indulged in
infamous impurities. They discovered one monk, who, turning auricular
confession to an abominable purpose, had carried adultery into two or
three hundred families. The list was exhibited, and some of the
Commissioners, to their great astonishment, says a contemporary writer,
found the names of their own wives upon it.[189]

There were sometimes riots, sieges, and battles. The Royal Commissioners
arrived at Norton Abbey in Cheshire, the abbots of which were notorious
for having carried on a scandalous traffic with the convent plate. On
the last day of their visit, the abbot sent out his monks to muster his
supporters, and collected a band of two or three hundred men, who
surrounded the monastery, to prevent the commissioners from carrying
anything away. The latter took refuge in a tower, which they barricaded.
It was two hours past midnight: the abbot had ordered an ox to be killed
to feed his rabble, seated round the fires in front of the convent, and
even in the courtyard. On a sudden Sir Piers Dulton, a justice of the
peace, arrived, and fell with his posse upon the monks and their
defenders. The besiegers were struck with terror, and ran off as fast as
they could, hiding themselves in the fish-ponds and out-houses. The
abbot and three canons, the instigators of the riot, were imprisoned in
Halton Castle.[190]

Fortunately, the king's Commissioners met with convents of another
character. When George Gifford was visiting the monasteries of
Lincolnshire, he came to a lonely district, abounding in water but very
poor,[191] where the abbey of Woolstrop was situated. The inhabitants of
the neighborhood, notwithstanding their destitution, praised the charity
of the recluses. Entering the convent, Gifford found an honest prior and
some pious monks, who copied books, made their own clothes, and
practised the arts of embroidering, carving, painting, and engraving.
The visitor petitioned the king for the preservation of this monastery.

[Sidenote: THE NUNNERIES.]

The Commissioners had particular instructions for the women's convents.
'Is your house perfectly closed?' they asked the abbess and the nuns.
'Can a man get into it?[192] Are you in the habit of writing
love-letters?'[193] At Litchfield the nuns declared that there was no
disorder in the convent; but one good old woman told everything, and
when Leighton reproached the prioress for her falsehood, she replied:
'Our religion compels us to it. At our admission we swore never to
reveal the secret sins that were committed among us.'[194] There were
some houses in which nearly all the nuns trampled under foot the most
sacred duties of their sex, and were without mercy for the unhappy
fruits of their disorders.

Such were frequently in those times the monastic orders of the West. The
eloquent apologists who eulogize their virtues without distinction, and
the exaggerating critics who pronounce the same sentence of condemnation
against all, are both mistaken. We have rendered homage to the monks who
were upright; we may blame those who were guilty. The scandals, let us
say, did not proceed from the founders of these orders. Sentiments,
opposed beyond a doubt to the principles of the Gospel, although they
were well-intentioned, had presided over the formation of the
monasteries. The hermits Paul, Anthony, and others of the third and
fourth centuries gave themselves up to an anti-Evangelical asceticism,
but still they struggled courageously against temptation. However, one
must be very ignorant not to see that corruption must eventually issue
from monastic institutions. _Every plant which my heavenly Father hath
not planted shall be rooted up_, is the language of the Gospel.

We do not exaggerate. The monasteries were sometimes an asylum in which
men and women, whose hearts had been wrecked in the tempests of life,
sought a repose which the world did not offer. They were mistaken; they
ought to have lived with God, but in the midst of society. And yet there
is a pleasure in believing that behind those walls, which hid so much
corruption, there were some elect souls who loved God. Such were found
at Catesby, at Godstow, near Oxford, and in other places. The Visitors
asked for the preservation of these houses.

If the visitation of the convents was a bitter draught to many of the
inmates, it was a cup of joy to the greater number. Many monks and nuns
had been put into the convents during their infancy, and were detained
in them against their will. No one ought to be forced, according to
Cromwell's principles. When the visitation took place, the Visitors
announced to every monk under twenty-four years of age, and to every nun
under twenty-one, that they might leave the convent. Almost all to whom
the doors were thus opened, hastened to profit by it. A secular dress
was given them, with some money, and they departed with pleasure. But
great was the sorrow among many whose age exceeded the limit. Falling on
their knees, they entreated the Commissioners to obtain a similar favor
for them. 'The life we lead here,' they said, 'is contrary to our
conscience.'[195]

[Sidenote: REPORT OF THE COMMISSIONERS.]

The Commissioners returned to London, and made their report to the
Council. They were distressed and disgusted. 'We have discovered,' they
said, 'not seven, but more than seven hundred thousand deadly
sins.[196]... These abominable monks are the _ravening wolves_ whose
coming Christ has announced, and who under sheep's clothing devour the
flock. Here are the confessions of the monks and nuns, subscribed with
their own hands.[197] This book may well be called _The Book of God's
Judgment_. The monasteries are so full of iniquity that they ought to
fall down under such a weight. If there be here and there any innocent
cloister, they are so few in number that they cannot save the others.
Our hearts melt and all our limbs tremble at the thought of the
abominations we have witnessed. O Lord! what wilt Thou answer to the
five cities which Thou didst consume by fire, when they remind Thee of
the iniquities of those monks, whom Thou hast so long supported?[198]
The eloquence of Ptolemy, the memory of Pliny, and the pen of St.
Augustine would not be able to give us the detestable history of these
abominations.'

[Sidenote: DELIBERATIONS OF THE COUNCIL.]

The Council began to deliberate, and many of the members called for the
secularization of a part of the monasteries. The partisans of the
religious orders took up their defence, and acknowledged that there was
room for reform. 'But,' they added, 'will you deprive of all asylum the
pious souls who desire to quit the world, and lead a devout life to the
glory of their Maker?' They tried even to invalidate in some points the
testimony of the Visitors; but the latter declared that, far from having
recorded lightly those scandalous facts, they had excluded many.[199]
'We have not reported certain public scandals,' they said, 'because they
seem opposed to the famous charter of the monks—_Si non caste, tamen
caute_.' Men of influence supported the Commissioners' conclusions; a
few members of the Council were inclined to indulgence; even Cromwell
seemed disposed to attempt the reform of whatever was susceptible of
improvement; but many believed that all amendment was impossible. 'We
must, above all things, diminish the wealth of the clergy,' said Dr.
Cox; 'for so long as they do not imitate the poverty of Christ, the
people will not follow their teaching. I have no doubt,' he added, with
a touch of irony, 'that the bishops, priests, and monks will readily
free themselves from the heavy burden of wealth of every kind, which
renders the fulfilment of their spiritual duties impossible.'[200] Other
reasons were alleged. 'The income of the monasteries,' said one of the
privy-councillors, 'amounts to 500,000 ducats, while that of all the
nobility of England is only 380,000.[201] This disproportion is
intolerable, and must be put an end to. For the welfare of his subjects
and of the Church, the King should increase the number of bishoprics,
parishes, and hospitals. He must augment the forces of the State, and
prepare to resist the Emperor, whose fleets and armies threaten us.
Shall we ask the people for taxes, who have already so much trouble to
get a living, while the monks continue to consume their wealth in
laziness and debauchery? It would be monstrous injustice. The treasures
which the convents derive from the nation ought no longer to be useless
to the nation.'

In February 1536, this serious matter was laid before Parliament. It was
Thomas Cromwell whose heavy hand struck these receptables of impurity,
and whom men called 'the hammer of the monks,'[202] who proposed this
great reform. He laid on the table of the Commons that famous _Black
Book_, in which were inscribed the misdeeds of the religious orders, and
desired that it should be read to the House. The book is no longer in
existence: it was destroyed, in the reign of Queen Mary, by those who
had an interest in its suppression. But it was then opened before the
Parliament of England. There had never before been such a reading in any
assembly. The facts were clearly recorded—the most detestable enormities
were not veiled: the horrible confessions of the monks, signed with
their own hands were exhibited to the members of the Commons. The
recital produced an extraordinary effect. Men had had no idea of such
abominable scandals.[203] The House was horror-stricken, and 'Down with
them—down with them!' was shouted on every side.

The debate commenced. Personally, the members were generally interested
in the preservation of the monasteries: most of them had some connection
with one cloister or another; priors and other heads had relations and
friends in Parliament. Nevertheless the condemnation was general, and
men spoke of those monkish sanctuaries as, in former times, men had
spoken of the priests of Jezebel—'Let us pull down their houses, and
overturn their altars.'[204] There were, however, some objections.
Twenty-six abbots, heads of the great monasteries, sat as barons in the
Upper House: these were respected. Besides, the great convents were less
disorderly than the small ones. Cromwell restricted himself for the
moment to the secularization of 376 cloisters, in each of which there
were fewer than twelve persons. The abbots, flattered by the exception
made in their favor, were silent, and even the bishops hardly cared to
defend institutions which had long been withdrawn from their authority.
'These monasteries,' said Cromwell, 'being the dishonor of religion, and
all the attempts, repeated through more than two centuries, having shown
that their reformation is impossible, the King, as supreme head of the
Church under God, proposes to the Lords and Commons, and these agree,
that the possessions of the said houses, shall cease to be wasted for
the maintenance of sin, and shall be converted to better uses.'[205]

[Sidenote: REAL RELIGIOUS HOUSES.]

There was immediately a great commotion throughout England. Some
rejoiced, while others wept: superstition became active, and weak minds
believed everything that was told them. 'The Virgin,' they were assured,
'had appeared to certain monks, and ordered them to serve her as they
had hitherto done.' 'What! no more religious houses,' exclaimed others,
through their tears.[206] 'On the contrary,' said Latimer; 'look at that
man and woman living together piously, tranquilly, in the fear of God,
keeping His Word and active in the duties of their calling: they form _a
religious house_, one that is truly acceptable to God. Pure religion
consists not in wearing a hood, but in visiting the fatherless and the
widows, and keeping ourselves unspotted from the world. What has
hitherto been called a religious life was an irreligious life.'[207]
'And yet,' said the devout, 'the monks had more holiness than those who
live in the world.' Latimer again went into the pulpit and said: 'When
St. Anthony, the father of monkery, lived in the desert, and thought
himself the most holy of men, he asked God who should be his companion
in heaven, if it were possible for him to have one. "Go to Alexandria,"
said the Lord; "in such a street and house you will find him."[208]
Anthony left the desert, sought the house, and found a poor cobbler in a
wretched shop mending old shoes. The saint took up his abode with him,
that he might learn by what mortifications the cobbler had made himself
worthy of such great celestial honor. Every morning the poor man knelt
down in prayer with his wife, and then went to work. When the
dinner-hour arrived, he sat down at a table on which were bread and
cheese; he gave thanks, ate his meal with joy, brought up his children
in the fear of God, and faithfully discharged all his duties. At this
sight, St. Anthony looked inwards, became contrite of heart, and put
away his pride. Such is the new sort of _religious houses_,' added
Latimer, 'that we desire to have now.'

And yet, strange to say, Latimer was almost the only person among the
Evangelicals who raised his voice in favor of the religious bodies. He
feared that if the property of the convents passed into the greedy hands
of Henry's courtiers, the tenants, accustomed to the mild treatment of
the abbots, would be oppressed by the lay landlords, desirous of
realizing the fruits of their estate unto the very last drop. The Bishop
of Worcester, being somewhat enthusiastic, was anxious that a few
convents should be preserved as houses of study, prayer, hospitality,
charity, and preaching.[209] Cranmer, who had more discernment and a
more practical spirit, had no hope of the monks. 'Satan,' he said,
'lives in the monasteries; he is satisfied and at his ease, like a
gentleman in his inn, and the monks and nuns are his very humble
servants.'[210] The primate, however, took little part in this great
measure.[211]

[Sidenote: SUPPRESSION OF THE MONASTERIES.]

The Bill for the suppression of the monasteries passed the two Houses on
the 4th of February, 1536. It gave to the king and his heirs all the
convents whose annual income did not exceed £200 sterling. About ten
thousand monks and nuns were secularized. This Act added to the revenue
of the Crown a yearly rental of £32,000 sterling, besides the immediate
receipt of £100,000 sterling in silver, jewels, and other articles. The
possessions hitherto employed by a few to gratify their carnal appetites
seemed destined to contribute to the prosperity of the whole nation.

Unhappily, the shameless cupidity of the monks was replaced by a
cupidity of a different nature. Petitions poured in to Cromwell from
every quarter. The saying of Scripture was fulfilled, _Wheresoever the
carcass is, there will the eagles be gathered together_. Thomas Cobham,
brother of Lord Cobham, represented that the Grey Friars' monastery at
Canterbury was in a convenient position for him; that it was the city
where he was born, and where all his friends lived. He consequently
asked that it should be given him, and Cranmer, whose niece he had
married, supported the prayer.[212] 'My good Lord,' said Lord-Chancellor
Audley, 'my only salary is that of the chancellorship; give me a few
good convents; I will give you my friendship during my life, and twenty
pounds sterling for your trouble.' 'My specially dear Lord,' said Sir
Thomas Eliot, 'I have been the king's ambassador at Rome; my services
deserve some recompense. Pray his Majesty to grant me some of the
suppressed convent lands. I will give your lordship the income of the
first year.'

History has to record evils of another nature. Some of the finest
libraries in England were destroyed, and works of great value sold for a
trifle to the grocers. Friends of learning on the continent bought many
of them, and carried away whole shiploads. One man changed his religion
for the sake of a piece of abbey land. The king lost at play the
treasures of which he had stripped the monastic orders, and used
convents as stables for his horses. Some persons had imagined that the
suppression of the monasteries would lead to the abolition of taxes and
subsidies; but it was not so, and the nation found itself burdened with
a poor-law in addition to the ordinary taxes.[213] There were, however,
more worthy cases than those of the king and his courtiers. 'Most dread,
mighty, and noble prince,' wrote the lord-mayor of London to the king,
'give orders that the three city hospitals shall henceforward subserve
not the pleasures of those canons, priests, and monks, whose dirty and
disgusting bodies encumber our streets; but be used for the comfort of
the sick and blind, the aged and crippled.'

The Act of Parliament was immediately carried out. The earl of Sussex,
Sir John St. Clair, Anthony Fitzherbert, Richard Cromwell, and several
other commissioners, travelled through England and made known to the
religious communities the statutory dissolution. The voice of truth was
heard from a small number of monasteries. 'Assuredly,' said the
Lincolnshire Franciscans, 'the perfection of Christian life does not
consist in wearing a gray frock, in disguising ourselves in strange
fashion, in bending the body and nodding the head,[214] and in wearing a
girdle full of knots. The true Christian life has been divinely
manifested to us in Christ; and for that reason we submit with one
consent to the king's orders.' The monks of the convent of St. Andrew at
Northampton acknowledged to the commissioners that they had taken the
habit of the order to live in comfortable idleness and not by virtuous
labor, and had indulged in continual drunkenness, and in carnal and
voluptuous appetites.[215] 'We have covered the gospel of Christ with
shame,' they said. 'Now, seeing the gulf of everlasting fire gaping to
swallow us up, and impelled by the stings of our conscience, we humble
ourselves with lowly repentance, and pray for pardon, giving up
ourselves and our convent to our sovereign king and lord.'

[Sidenote: SORROW AND DESPAIR.]

But they did not all use the same language. It was the last hour for the
convents. There was a ceaseless movement in the cloisters; bursts of
sorrow and fear, of anger and despair. What! No more monasteries! no
more religious pomps! no more gossip! no more refectory! Those halls,
wherein their predecessors had paced for centuries; those chapels, in
which they had worshipped kneeling on the pavement, were to be converted
to vulgar uses. A few convents endeavored to bribe Cromwell: 'If you
save our house,' said the abbot of Peterborough, 'I will give the king
two million five hundred marks, and yourself three hundred pounds
sterling.'[216] But Cromwell had conceived a great national measure, and
wished to carry it out. Neither the eloquence of the monks, their
prayers, their promises, nor their money could move him.

Some of the abbots set themselves in open revolt against the king, but
were forced to submit at last. The old halls, the long galleries, the
narrow cells of the convents, became emptier from day to day. The monks
received a pension in proportion to their age. Those who desired to
continue in the religious life were sent to the large monasteries. Many
were dismissed with a few shillings for their journey and a new
gown.[217] 'As for you,' said the commissioners to the young monks under
twenty-five, 'you must earn a living by the work of your hands.' The
same rule was applied to the nuns.

There was great suffering at this period. The inhabitants of the
cloisters were strangers in the world: England was to them an unknown
land. Monks and nuns might be seen wandering from door to door, seeking
an asylum for the night. Many, who were young then, grew old in beggary.
Their sin had been great, and so was their chastisement. Some of the
monks fell into a gloomy melancholy, even into frightful despair: the
remembrance of their faults pursued them; God's judgment terrified them;
the sight of their miseries infuriated them. 'I am like Esau,' said one
of them, 'I shall be eternally damned.' And he strangled himself with
his collar. Another stabbed himself with a penknife. Some compassionate
people having deprived him of the power of injuring himself, he
exclaimed with rage, 'If I cannot die in this manner, I shall easily
find another;' and taking a piece of paper, he wrote on it: _Rex tanquam
tyrannus opprimit populum suum_.[218] This he placed in one of the
church books, where it was found by a parishioner, who in great alarm
called out to the persons around him. The monk, full of hope that he
would be brought to trial, drew near and said, 'It was I who did it:
here I am; let them put me to death.'

Erelong those gloomy clouds, which seemed to announce a day of storms,
appeared to break. There were tempests afterwards, but, speaking
generally, England found in this energetic act one of the sources of her
greatness, instead of the misfortunes with which she was threatened. At
the moment when greedy eyes began to covet the revenues of Cambridge and
Oxford, a recollection of the pleasant days of his youth was awakened in
Henry's mind. 'I will not permit the wolves around me,' he said, 'to
fall upon the universities.' Indeed, the incomes of a few convents were
employed in the foundation of new schools, and particularly of Trinity
College, Cambridge; and these institutions helped to spread throughout
England the lights of the Renaissance and of the Reformation. An
eloquent voice was heard from those antique halls, saying: 'O most
invincible prince, great is the work that you have begun. Christ had
laid the foundation; the apostles raised the building. But alas! barren
weeds had overrun it; the papal tyranny had bowed all heads beneath its
yoke. Now, you have rejected the pope; you have banished the race of
monks. What more can we ask for? We pray that those houses of cenobites,
where an ignorant swarm of drones was wont to buzz,[219] should behold
in their academic halls a generous youth, eager to be taught, and
learned men to teach them. Let the light which has been restored to us
spread its rays through all the universe and kindle other torches, so
that the darkness should flee all over the world[220] before the dawn of
a new day.'

It was not learning alone that gained by the suppression of the
monasteries. The revenues of the crown, which were about seven hundred
thousand ducats, increased by those of the convents which were about
nine hundred thousand, were more than doubled. This wealth, hitherto
useless, served to fortify England and Ireland, build fortresses along
the coasts, repair the harbors, and create an imposing fleet. The
kingdom took a step in the career of power. By the reformation of the
convents the moral force of the nation gained still more than the
material force. The abolition of the papacy restored to the people that
national unity which Rome had taken away; and England, freed from
subjection to a foreign power, could oppose her enemies with a sword of
might and a front of iron.

[Sidenote: NATIONAL PROSPERITY.]

Political economy, rural economy, all that concerns the collection and
distribution of wealth, then took a start that nothing has been able to
check. The estates, taken from the easy-going monks, produced riches.
The king and the nobility, desirous of deriving the greatest gain
possible from the domains that had fallen to them, endeavored to improve
agriculture. Many men, until that time useless, electrified by the
movement of minds, sought the means of existence. The Reformation, from
which the nation expected only purity of doctrine, helped to increase
the general prosperity, industry, commerce, and navigation. The poor
remembered that God had commanded man to eat his bread, not in the shade
of the monasteries, but _in the sweat of his brow_. To this epoch we
must ascribe the origin of those mercantile enterprises, of those long
and distant voyages which were to be one day the strength of Great
Britain. Henry VIII. was truly the father of Elizabeth.

Moral, social, and political development was no less a gainer by the
order that was established. At the first moment, no doubt, England
presented the appearance of a vast chaos: but from that chaos there
sprang a new world. Forces which had hitherto been lost in obscure
cells, were employed for the good of society. The men who had been
dwelling carelessly within or without the cloister walls, and had
expended all their activity in listlessly giving or listlessly receiving
alms, were violently shaken by the blows from the _Malleus monachorum_,
the hammer of the monks: they aroused themselves, and made exertions
which turned to the public good. Their children, and especially their
grandchildren, became useful citizens. The third estate appeared. The
population of the cloisters was transformed into an active and
intelligent middle class. The very wealth, acquired, it is true,
greedily by the nobility, secured them an independence, which enabled
them to oppose a salutary counterpoise to the pretensions of the crown.
The Upper House, where the ecclesiastical element had predominated,
became essentially a lay house by the absence of the abbots and priors.
A public grew up. A new life animated antique institutions that had
remained almost useless. It was not, in truth, until later that mighty
England, having become decidedly evangelical and constitutional, sat
down victoriously on the two great ruins of feudalism and popery; but an
important step was taken under Henry VIII. That great transformation
extended its influence even beyond the shores of Great Britain. The blow
aimed at the system of the Middle Ages re-echoed throughout Europe, and
everywhere shook the artificial scaffolding. Spain and Italy alone
remained almost motionless in the midst of their ancient darkness.

The suppression of the monasteries, begun in 1535, was continued in
1538, and brought to a conclusion in 1539 by an Act of Parliament.

[Sidenote: A PROPHECY.]

A voice was heard from these ruined convents, exclaiming: 'Praise and
thanksgiving to God! _For other foundation can no man lay than Jesus
Christ._ Whoever believes that Jesus Christ is the _pacifier_ who
turneth away from our heads the strokes of God's wrath,[221] lays the
true foundation; and on that firm base he shall raise a better building
than that which had the monks for its pillars!' This prophecy of Sir
William Overbury's did not fail to be accomplished.

[161] 'A Sir Loyne of beaf, so knighted by this king Henry.'—Fuller, p.
299.

[162] 'Des Pabstes Leib plaget er, abes seine Seele stærkt er.'—Lutheri
_Opp._ xxii. p. 1466.

[163] 'Ecclesiam vitiorum vepribus purgare, et virtutum seminibus
conserere.'—Collyer's _Records_, ii. p. 21.

[164] 'For the benefit of a retired and contemplative disposition.'—
_Ibid._ i. p. 102.

[165] 'The monks coming out of the nunnery ... ran themselves into the
net.'—Fuller, p. 317.

[166] 'He intended to build many havens.'—Burnet, i. p. 181.

[167] Wilkins, _Concilia_, iii. p. 785.—Coll. _Rec._ 21.

[168] 'Nullus vestrum ea quæ sunt jurisdictionis exercere.'—Collyer's
_Records_, p. 22.

[169] Audley to Cromwell, 30th Sept. 1535.—_State Papers_, i. p. 450.

[170] _Suppression of the Monasteries_, p. 71, sqq.

[171] Cranmer's _Letters and Remains_, p. 326.

[172] _Ibid._ p. 327.

[173] 'He knew no vices by none of the bishops of Rome.'—Cranmer's
_Letters and Remains_, p. 327.

[174] Epistle to the Romans, ch. i.

[175] 'By backways or otherwise.'—Wilkins, _Concilia_, iii. p. 783.

[176] Wilkins, _Concilia_, p. 791.

[177] _Suppression of the Monasteries_, p. 48.—Fuller, p. 318.

[178] 'Like a coney clapper, full of starting-holes.'—Fuller, pp. 75,
76.

[179] 'Surrender of the monastery of Langdon.'—Burnet, _Records_, i. p.
133.

[180] _Suppression of the Monasteries_, p. 100.

[181] 'Pars petræ super qua natus erat Jesus in Bethlehem.'—Strype, i.
p. 391.

[182] Collyer's _Records_, ii. p. 149.

[183] 'This, as it is said, was done to open his heart and his
pocket.'—_Ibid._

[184] 'Capite nutare, innuere oculis, barbam convertere, incurvare
corpus.'—_Records_ or _Documents_ in Burnet, iii. p. 131.

[185] 'Occultæ passim fistulæ in quibus ductile per rimulas ferrum a
mystagogo trahebatur.'—_Ibid._ p. 132.

[186] 'Aliis Ajacem risu simulantibus.'—_Records_ or _Documents_ in
Burnet, iii. p. 132.

[187] 'The instruments for coining.'—_Ibid._ p. 182.

[188] 'Some crucified.'—_Ibid._ p. 182.

[189] 'Some of the commissioners found of their own wives titled among
the rest.'—W. Thomas in _Strype_, i. p. 386.—Burnet, i. p. 182.

[190] Ellis, _Letters_, 3rd Series, vol. iii. p. 42.

[191] 'Standing in a wet ground, very solitary.'—_Strype_, i. p. 393.

[192] 'An sint aliqua loca pervia, per quæ secrete intrari
possit?'—Wilkins, _Concilia_, iii. p. 789.

[193] 'Whether any of you doth use to write any letters of love or
lascivious fashion.'—Wilkins, _Concilia_, iii. p. 789.

[194] _Suppression of the Monasteries_, p. 91.

[195] _Suppression of the Monasteries_, p. 81.

[196] Strype, i. p. 385.

[197] 'Their own confessions, subscribed with their own hands, be a
proof thereof.'—Strype, i. p. 387.

[198] Strype, i. p. 385.

[199] We suppress circumstances which were quoted then; they may be seen
in Fuller (p. 318) and elsewhere.

[200] Strype, i. p. 418.

[201] _Relazione d'Inghilterra_, by Daniele Barbaro, ambassador of
Venice.—Ranke, iv. p. 61.

[202] 'Malleus monachorum.'

[203] 'When their enormities were first read in the Parliament House,
they were so great and abominable.'—Latimer's _Sermons_, p. 123.

[204] 'There was nothing but "_Down with them!_"' _Ibid._ p. 123.

[205] _State Papers._ 27 Henry VIII. c. 28.

[206] Latimer's _Sermons_, p. 391.

[207] _Ibid._ p. 392.

[208] 'There he should find a cobbler which should be his fellow in
heaven.'—_Ibid._

[209] Strype, i. p. 400.

[210] Cranmer's _Letters and Remains_, p. 64.

[211] 'I will not take upon me to make any exposition.'—_Ibid._ p. 317.

[212] Cranmer's _Letters and Remains_, p. 330.

[213] Latimer's _Sermons_, pp. 93, 256.—Dean Hook's _Lives of the
Archbishops of Canterbury_, passim.

[214] 'Dolking and becking.'—Collyer's _Records_, ii. p. 159.

[215] _Ibid._

[216] Collyer's _Records_, ii. pp. 156-159.

[217] 'A new gown of strong cloath.'—Fuller, _Church History_, p. 311.

[218] 'The king oppresses his people like a tyrant.'—Cranmer's _Letters
and Remains_, p. 319.

[219] 'Ignarus fucorum grex evolare solebat.'—Strype, _Records_, i. p.
136.

[220] 'Novæ ut lampades, novique faces possint accendi.'—Strype,
_Records_, i. p. 337.

[221] 'The pacifier of God's wrath, the bearer of sins.'—Strype,
_Records_, i. p. 307.




 CHAPTER VIII.
 UNION OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND WITH THE PROTESTANTS OF GERMANY.
 (1534 TO 1535.)


Henry VIII. having thrown down the _pillar of the papacy_—the monks—felt
the necessity of strengthening the work he had begun by alliances with
the continental protestants. He did not turn to the Swiss or the French
Reformers: their small political importance, as well as the decided
character of their Reform, alienated him from them. 'What inconsiderate
men they are,' said Calvin, 'who exalt the king of England. To ascribe
sovereign authority to the prince in everything, to call him supreme
head of the Church under Christ, is in my opinion blasphemy.'[222]

[Sidenote: MELANCHTHON.]

Henry hoped more from Germany than from Switzerland. As early as 1534
three senators of Lubeck had presented to him the Confession of
Augsburg, and proposed an alliance against the Roman pontiff.[223] Anne
Boleyn pressed the king to unite with the protestants, and in the spring
of 1535 Barnes was sent to Wittemberg, where he induced the Reformers to
claim his master's protection. Melanchthon, who was more inclined than
Luther to have recourse to princes, since he did not refuse to unite
with Francis I., did not reject the advances of Henry VIII. 'Sire,' he
wrote in March 1535, 'this is now the golden age for Britain.[224] In
times of old, when the armies of the Goths had stifled letters in
Europe, your island restored them to the universe. I entreat you in the
name of Jesus Christ to plead for us before kings.' The illustrious
doctor dedicated to this prince the new edition of his _Common-Places_,
and commissioned Alesius, a Scotchman, to present it with the hope that
he should see England become the salvation of many nations, and even of
the whole Church of Christ.[225] Alesius, who had taken refuge in
Saxony, was happy to return to that island from which the fanaticism of
the Scotch clergy had compelled him flee. He was presented to the uncle
of his king, and Henry, delighted with the Scotchman, said to him: 'I
name you my scholar,' and directed Cranmer to send Melanchthon two
hundred crowns. They were accompanied by a letter for the illustrious
professor, in which the king signed himself: _Your friend Henry_.

But it was not long before the hopes of a union between Germany and
England seemed to vanish. Scarcely had Melanchthon vaunted in his
dedication to Henry VIII. the moderation of the king—a moderation worthy
(he had said) of a wise prince—when he heard of the execution of Fisher
and More. He shrank back with terror. 'Morus,' he exclaimed, 'has been
put to death, and others with him.' The cruelties of the king tortured
the gentle Philip. The idea that a man of letters like More should fall
by the hands of the executioner, scandalized him. He began to fear for
his own life. 'I am myself,' he said, 'in great peril.'[226]

Henry did not suspect the horror which his crime would excite on the
continent, and had just read with delight a passage of Melanchthon's in
which the latter compared him to Ptolemy Philadelphus! He therefore said
to Barnes: 'Go and bring him back with you.' Barnes returned to
Wittemberg in September and delivered his message. But the doctor of
Germany had never received so alarming an invitation before. He imagined
it to be a treacherous scheme. 'The mere thought of the journey,' he
said, 'overwhelms me with distress.' Barnes tried to encourage him. 'The
king will give you a magnificent escort,' he said, 'and even hostages,
if you desire it.'[227] Melanchthon, who had More's bleeding head
continually before him, was immovable. Luther also regarded Barnes with
an unfavorable eye, and called him _the black Englishman_.[228]

The envoy was more fortunate with the elector. John Frederick, hearing
that the king of England was desirous of forming an alliance with the
princes of Germany, replied that he would communicate this important
demand to them. He then entertained Barnes at a sumptuous breakfast,
made him handsome presents, and wrote to Henry VIII. that the desire
manifested by him to reform religious doctrine augmented his love for
him, 'for,' he added, 'it belongs to kings to propagate Christ's gospel
far and wide.'[229]

Luther also, but from other motives than those of the elector, did not
look so closely as Melanchthon; the suppression of the monasteries
prepossessed him in favor of his ancient adversary. The penalties with
which the Carthusians and others had been visited did not alarm him.
Vergerio, the papal legate, who was at Wittemberg at the beginning of
November, invited Luther to breakfast with him. 'I know,' he said, 'that
king Henry kills cardinals and bishops, but ...' and biting his lips, he
made a significant movement with his hand, as if he wished to cut off
the king's head. When relating this anecdote to Melanchthon, who was
then at Jena, Luther added: 'Would to God that we possessed several
kings of England to put to death those bishops, cardinals, legates, and
popes who are nothing but robbers, traitors, and devils!'[230] Luther
was less tender than he is represented when contrasted with Calvin.
Those hasty words expressed really the thoughts of all parties. The
spiritual leaven of the gospel had to work for a century or more upon
the hard material of which the heart of man is made, before the errors
of Romish legislation, a thousand years old, were banished. No doubt
there was an immediate mitigation produced by the Reformation; but if
any one had told the men of the sixteenth century that it was wrong to
put men to death for acts of impiety, they would have been as
astonished, and perhaps more so, than our judges, if they were abused
because, in conformity with the law, they visited murder with capital
punishment. It is strange, however, that it required so many centuries
to understand those glorious words of our Saviour: _The Son of man is
not come to destroy men's lives, but to save them_.[231]

The condition which the protestants placed on their union with
Henry VIII. rendered the alliance difficult. 'We only ask one thing,'
said the Reformers to Barnes, 'that the doctrine which is in _conformity
with Scripture_ be restored to the _whole world_;'[232] but Henry still
observed the catholic doctrine. But he was told that the Lutherans and
Francis I., thanks to Melanchthon's mediation, were probably coming to
an agreement, and that a general council would be summoned. What
treatment could he expect from such an assembly, he who had so
grievously offended the papacy! Desirous of preventing a council at any
price, the king determined in September, 1535, to send a more important
embassy to the Lutherans, in order to persuade them to renounce the idea
of coming to terms with the pope, and rather to form an alliance with
England.

[Sidenote: EMBASSY TO GERMANY.]

Consequently Fox, bishop of Hereford, a proud and insolent courtier, and
Archdeacon Hare, an amiable and enlightened man, with some others,
started for Germany and joined Barnes and Mount who had preceded them.
On the 24th of December they were admitted into the presence of the
Elector of Saxony, the Landgrave of Hesse, and other protestant deputies
and princes: 'The king our master,' they said, 'has abolished the power
of the Roman bishop throughout his dominions, and rejected his pretended
pardons and his old wives' stories.[233] Accordingly the pope, in a
transport of fury, has summoned all the kings of the earth to take arms
against him. But neither pope nor papists alarm our prince. He offers
you his person, his wealth, and his sceptre to combat the Roman power.
Let us unite against it, and the Spirit of God will bind our
confederation together.'[234] The princes replied to this eloquent
harangue, 'that if the king engaged to propagate the pure doctrine of
the faith as it had been confessed at the diet of Augsburg; if he
engaged, like them, never to concede to the Roman bishop any
jurisdiction in his States, they would name him Defender and Protector
of their confederation.'[235] They added that they would send a
deputation, including one man of excellent learning (meaning
Melanchthon), to confer with the king upon the changes to be made in the
Church. The Englishmen could not conceal their joy, but the theologian
had lost all confidence in Henry VIII. 'The death of More distresses me:
I will have nothing to do with the business.'[236] Nevertheless the
treaty of alliance was signed on the 25th December, 1535.[237] The
catholic party, especially in England, was troubled at the news, and
Gardiner, then ambassador in France, lost no time in writing to oppose
designs which would establish protestantism in the Anglican Church.

While the king was uniting with the Confession of Augsburg, his
relations with the most decided partisans of the papacy were far from
improving. His daughter Mary, whose temper was melancholy and irritable,
observed no bounds as regards her father's friends or acts, and refused
to submit to his orders. 'I bid her renounce the title of princess,'
said Henry in a passion.—'If I consented not to be regarded as such,'
she answered, 'I should go against my conscience and incur God's
displeasure.'[238] Henry, no friend of half-measures, talked of putting
his daughter to death, and thus frightening the rebels. That wretched
prince had a remarkable tendency for killing those who were nearest to
him. We may see a father correct his child with a stripe; but with this
man, a blow from his hand was fatal. There was already some talk of
sending the princess to the Tower, when the evangelical Cranmer ventured
to intercede in behalf of the catholic Mary. He reminded Henry that he
was her father, and that if he took away her life, he would incur
universal reprobation. The king gave way to these representations,
predicting to the archbishop that this intervention would some day cost
him dear. In fact, when Mary became queen she put to death the man who
had saved her life. Henry was content to order his daughter to be
separated from her mother. On the other hand, the terrified Catherine
endeavored to mollify the princess. 'Obey the king in all things,' she
wrote from Buckden, where she was living, 'except in those which would
destroy your soul. Speak little; trouble yourself about nothing, play on
the spinet or lute.' This unhappy woman, who had found so much
bitterness in the conjugal estate, added: 'Above all, do not desire a
husband, nor even think of it, I beg you in the name of Christ's passion.

'Your loving mother, CATHERINE THE QUEEN.'[239]

[Sidenote: CATHERINE'S FIRMNESS.]

But the mother was not less decided than the daughter in maintaining her
rights, and would not renounce her title of queen, notwithstanding
Henry's orders. A commission composed of the Duke of Suffolk, Lord
Sussex, and others, arrived at Buckden to try and induce her to do so,
and all the household of the princess was called together. The intrepid
daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella said with a firm voice: 'I am the
queen, the king's true wife.'[240] Being informed that it was intended
to remove her to Somersham and separate her from some of her best
friends, she answered: 'I will not go unless you bind me with
ropes.'[241] And to prevent this she took to her bed and refused to
dress, saying she was ill.[242] The king sent two catholic prelates, the
archbishop of York and the bishop of Durham, hoping to soften her.
'Madam,' said the archbishop, 'your marriage being invalid....'—'It is a
lawful marriage,' she exclaimed with passionate vehemence.[243] 'Until
death I shall be his Majesty's wife.'—'Members of your own council,'
continued the archbishop, 'acknowledge that your marriage with Prince
Arthur was actually consummated.'—'It is all false!' she exclaimed in a
loud tone.—'The divorce was consequently pronounced.'...—'By whom?' she
asked.—'By my lord of Canterbury.'—'And who is he?' returned the queen.
'A shadow![244] The pope has declared in my favor, and he is Christ's
vicar.'—'The king will treat you like a dear sister,' said bishop
Tonstall.[245]—'Nothing in the world,' answered Catherine, 'neither the
loss of my possessions nor the prospect of death, will make me give up
my rights.'

In October, 1535, Catherine was still at Buckden. That noble but fanatic
woman increased her austerity, indulged in the harshest practices of an
ascetic life, prayed frequently bare-kneed on the floor, while at the
same time a deadly sorrow was undermining her health. At last
consumption declared itself;[246] and as her condition required a change
of air, she was removed to Kimbolton. She longed for the society of her
daughter, which would no doubt have alleviated her sufferings; but she
asked in vain with tears to see her. Mary also entreated the king to let
her visit her mother: he was inflexible.[247]

[Sidenote: CHARLES ARMS AGAINST HENRY.]

Henry's harshness towards the aunt of Charles V. excited the wrath of
that monarch to the highest degree. He was then returning victorious
from his first African expedition, and determined to delay no longer in
carrying out the mission he had received from the pope. To that end it
was necessary to obtain, if not the co-operation, at least the
neutrality of Francis I. That was not easy. The king of France had
always courted the alliance of England: he had signed a treaty with
Henry against the emperor and against the pope, and had just sought an
alliance with the Lutheran princes. But the emperor knew that the
acquisition of Italy, or at least of Lombardy, was the favorite idea of
Francis I. Charles was equally desirous of it, but he was so impatient
to re-establish Catherine of Aragon on the throne, and bring England
again under the dominion of the pope, that he determined to sacrifice
Italy, if only in appearance. Sforza, duke of Milan, having just died
without children, the emperor offered Francis I. the duchy of Milan for
his second son, the duke of Orleans, if he would not oppose his designs
against England.[248] The king of France eagerly accepted the proposal,
and wishing to give a proof of his zeal, he even proposed that the pope
should summon all the princes of Christendom to force the king of
England to submit to the See of Rome. The love he had for Milan went so
far as to make him propose a crusade against his natural ally,
Henry VIII.[249]

[Sidenote: DEATH OF CATHERINE.]

The matter was becoming serious: rarely had a greater danger threatened
England, when an important event suddenly removed it. At the very time
when Charles V., aided by Francis I., desired to rouse Europe in order
to replace his aunt on the throne, she died. About the end of December,
1535, Catherine became seriously ill, and felt that God was bringing her
great sorrows to an end. The king, wishing to keep up appearances, sent
to inquire after her. The queen, firm to the last in her principles,
sent for her lawyers and dictated her will to them. 'I am ready,' she
said, 'to yield up my soul unto God.... I supplicate that five hundred
masses be said for my soul; and that some personage go in pilgrimage for
me to Our Lady of Walsingham.[250] I bequeath my gowns to the convent,
and the furs of the same I give to my daughter.' Then Catherine thought
of the king: to her he was always her husband, and despite his
injustice, she would not address him but with respect. Feeling that the
end was not far off, she dictated the following letter, at once so
simple and so noble:—

'My most dear Lord, King, and Husband:

'The hour of my death now approaching, I cannot choose but, out of the
love I bear you, advise you of your soul's health. You have cast me into
many calamities and yourself into many troubles; but I forgive you all,
and pray God to do likewise. I commend unto you Mary our daughter,
beseeching you to be a good father to her. Lastly, I make this vow, that
mine eyes desire you above all things.'[251]

The queen, therefore, sought to bid farewell of him who had wrought her
so much evil. Henry was moved, and even shed tears,[252] but did not
comply with the queen's wish: his conscience reproached him with his
faults. On the 7th January Catherine received the last sacraments, and
at two o'clock she expired.

Anne felt at the bottom of her heart the rights of this princess. She
had yielded to her imagination, to the absolute will of the king; her
marriage had given her some moments of happiness, but her soul was often
troubled. She thought to herself that the proud Spanish woman was the
one to whom Henry had given his faith; and doubted whether the crown did
not belong to the daughter of Isabella. Catherine's death removed her
anxieties. 'Now,' she said, 'now I am indeed a queen.' She went into
mourning, but according to the custom in France at that period. The
tears of the people accompanied to the tomb that unhappy and (to say
truth) superstitious woman; but she was an affectionate mother, a
high-spirited wife, and a queen of indomitable pride.[253]

This decease was destined to effect great changes in Europe. The
emperor, who was forming a holy alliance to replace his aunt on the
throne, and who, to succeed, had gone so far as to sacrifice the
northern part of Italy, having nothing more to do with Catherine,
sheathed his sword and kept Milan. Francis I., vexed at seeing the prey
slip from him which he had so eagerly coveted, and fancied already in
his hands, went into a furious passion, and prepared for a war to the
death. The emperor and the king of France, instead of marching together
against Henry, began each of them to court him, desiring to have him for
an ally in the fierce struggle that was about to begin.

At the same time Catherine's death facilitated, as we have said, the
alliance of the king with the protestants of Germany, who had maintained
the validity of his marriage with the princess of Aragon. One of their
chief grievances against Henry VIII. had thus disappeared. Both sides
now thought they could make a step forward and strive to come to an
understanding theologically. The points on which they differed were
important. 'The king of England,' they said at Wittemberg, 'wishes to be
pope in the place of the pope, and maintains most of the errors of the
old popery, such as monasteries,[254] indulgences, the mass, prayers for
the dead, and other Romish fables.'[255]

[Sidenote: DISCUSSION AT WITTEMBERG.]

The discussion began at Wittemberg. The champions in the theological
tournament were Bishop Fox and Archdeacon Heath on one side; Melanchthon
and Luther on the other. Heath, one of the young doctors whom Queen Anne
had maintained at Cambridge University, charmed Melanchthon exceedingly.
'He excels in urbanity and sound doctrine,' said the latter. Fox, on the
other hand, who was the king's man, showed, in Philip's opinion, no
taste either for philosophy or for agreeable and graceful conversation.
The doctrine of the mass was the principal point of the discussion. They
could not come to an understanding. Luther, who thought it would be only
a three days' matter, seeing the time slip away, said to the elector: 'I
have done more in four weeks than these Englishmen in twelve years. If
they continue reforming in that style, England will never be _inside_ or
_out_.'[256] This definition of the English Reformation amused the
Germans. They did not discuss, they disputed: it became a regular
quarrel.[257] 'I am disgusted with these debates,' said Luther to
vice-chancellor Burkhard, 'they make me sick.'[258] Even the gentle
Melanchthon exclaimed: 'All the world seems to me to be burning with
hatred and anger.'[259]

Accordingly the theological discussions were broken off, and the
ambassadors of Henry VIII. were admitted on the 12th of March into the
presence of the elector. 'England is tranquil now,' said the bishop of
Hereford; 'the death of a woman has forever terminated all wrangling. At
this moment the creed of Jesus Christ alone is the concern of his
Majesty. The king therefore prays you to make an alliance between you
and him possible, by modifying a few points of your Confession.'
Whereupon the vice-chancellor of Saxony addressed Luther: 'What can we
concede to the king of England?'—'Nothing,' answered the reformer. 'If
we had been willing to concede anything, we might just as well have come
to terms with the pope.' After this very positive declaration, Luther
softened down a little. He knew well, as another reformer has said,
'that some men are weaker than others, and if we do not treat them very
mildly, they lose their courage and turn away from religion; and that
Christians who are more advanced in doctrine are bound to comfort the
infirmities of the ignorant.'[260] The Saxon reformer, retracing his
steps a little, wrote to the vice-chancellor: 'It is true that England
cannot embrace the whole truth all at once.'[261] He thought it possible
in certain cases to adopt other expressions, and tolerate some diversity
of usages. 'But,' he said, always firm in the faith, 'the great
doctrines can neither be given up nor modified. Whether to make an
alliance or not with the king, is for my most gracious lord to decide:
it is a secular matter. Only it is dangerous to unite outwardly, when
the hearts are not in harmony.' The protestant states assembled on the
24th of April, 1536, at Frankfort on the Main, required Henry VIII. to
receive _the faith confessed at Augsburg_, and in that case expressed
themselves ready to acknowledge him as protector of the evangelical
alliance. The elector, who was much displeased with certain English
ceremonies, added: 'Let your Majesty thoroughly reform the _pontifical
idolomania_ in England.'[262] It was agreed that Melanchthon, Sturm,
Bucer, and Dracon should go to London to complete this great work of
union. England and evangelical Germany were about to join hands.

This alliance of the king with the Lutherans deeply chafed the catholics
of the kingdom, already so seriously offended by the suppression of the
monasteries and the punishment of the two men to whom Henry (they said)
was most indebted. While the Roman party was filled with anger, the
political party was surprised by the bold step the prince had taken. But
the blow which had struck two great victims had taught them that they
must submit to the will of the monarch or perish. The scaffolds of
Fisher and More had read them a great lesson of docility, and moulded
all those around Henry to that servile spirit which leaves in the palace
of a king nothing but a master and slaves.

They were about to see an illustrious instance in the trial of Anne
Boleyn.

[222] 'Inconsiderati homines. . . . Dederunt illi (Regi Angliæ) summam
rerum omnium potestatem, et hoc me semper graviter vulneravit.
Erant . . . enim blasphemi, quum vocarent ipsum _Summum caput Ecclesiæ
sub Christo_.'—Calvinus _in Amos_, vii. 13.

[223] 'Fœdus contra Romanum pontificem.'—Rymer, _Fœdera_, VI. ii. p.
214.

[224] 'Tale nunc aureum seculum esse tuæ Britanniæ.'—_Corpus Reform._
ii. p. 862.

[225] 'Multarum gentium et Ecclesiæ Christianæ salutem.'—_Ibid._ p. 920.

[226] 'Ego quoque magno versor in periculo.'—_Corpus Reform._ ii. p.
918.

[227] 'Und auch Geissel dafür anbeüt.'—Lutheri _Epp._ iv. p. 633.

[228] 'Ille niger Anglicus.'—_Ibid._ p. 630.

[229] 'Ut Christi gloria latissime propagetur.'—_Corpus Reform._ ii. p.
944.

[230] 'Reverendissimi cardinales, papæ et eorum legati, proditores,
fures, raptores, et ipsi diaboli. Utinam haberent plures Reges Angliæ,
qui illos occiderent.'—Lutheri _Epp._ iv. p. 655.

[231] St. Luke ix. 56.

[232] 'Pia ac sana doctrina, divinis literis consentanea, toti orbi
restituatur.'

[233] There is a play upon words in the Latin: 'Venias vel potius Nenias
prorsus antiquavit.'—_Corpus Reform._ ii. p. 1029.

[234] 'Dei spiritum qui utrosque conglutinet.'—_Ibid._ p. 1032.

[235] 'S. M. obtineat nomen Defensoris et Protectoris.'—_Ibid._ 1034.

[236] 'Thomæ Mori casu afficior, nec me negotiis illis admiscebo.'—
_Ibid._ p. 1034.

[237] _Corpus Reform._ ii. pp. 1032-36. The signatures of Fox, Heath,
and Barnes, the English envoys, precede those of the Elector of Saxony
and of the Landgrave.

[238] Letter from Lady Mary to King Henry VIII.—Foxe, _Acts_, vi. p.
353.

[239] Burnet, _Records_, ii. p. 220.

[240] 'Persisting in her great stomake and obstinacy, made answer with
an open voice.'—_State Papers_, i. p. 415.

[241] _Ibid._ p. 417.

[242] 'She may faine her self sycke and kepe her bed, and will not put
on her clothes.'—_Ibid._

[243] 'In great coler and agony, and always interrupting our
words.'—_Ibid._ i. p. 420.

[244] 'Lord of Canterbury, whom she called a shadow.'—_Ibid._ p. 420.

[245] 'As your Grace's most dearest sister.'—_Ibid._ p. 421.

[246] 'Catharina ... animi mœrore confecta, cœpit ægrotare.'—_Polydore
Virgil_, p. 690.

[247] 'Conjux a viro, mater pro filia impetrare non potuit.'—Polus,
_Apol. ad Cæsarem_, p. 162. This fact has been doubted, but no evidence
has been produced against it.

[248] 'Scribebat se contentari dare ducatum Mediolani duci
Aurelianensi.'—_State Papers_, vii. p. 649.

[249] _Mémoires de Du Bellay._

[250] 'The last will, &c.'—Strype, _Records_, i. p. 252.

[251] Herbert, p. 432.

[252] 'Rex ubi literas legit, amanter lachrymavit.'—_Polydore Virgil_,
p. 690.

[253] The Lord Chamberlain to Cromwell.—_State Papers_, i. p. 452.

[254] The _great_ monasteries were not yet suppressed.

[255] _Corpus Reform._ iii. p. 12.

[256] 'Werden sie nimmermehr daraus noch drein kommen.'—Lutheri _Epp._
iv. p. 671.

[257] 'Cum Anglicis disputamus, si disputare est rixari.'—_Ibid._ p.
669.

[258] 'Usque ad nauseam.'—_Ibid._ p. 669.

[259] 'Orbis terrarum ardet odiis et furore.'—_Corpus Reform._ iii. p.
53.

[260] Calvin.

[261] 'In England nicht so plötzlich kann alles nach der Lehre in's Werk
bracht werden.'—Letter to the Vice-Chancellor. Lutheri _Epp._ iv. p.
688.

[262] 'Regia dignitas vestra suscipiat emendationem Idolomaniæ
pontificiæ.'—_Corpus Reform._ iii. p. 64.




 CHAPTER IX.
 ACCUSATION OF ANNE.
 (1535 TO MAY 1536.)


If feeble minds did not shrink from bending beneath the royal despotism,
men of fanatical mould cherished vengeance in their hearts. Great wounds
had been inflicted on the papacy, and they burnt to strike some signal
blow against the cause of Reform. That also, they said, must have its
victim. For all these monasteries sacrificed, one person must be
immolated: one only, but taken from the most illustrious station. The
king having, on the one side, struck his tutor and his friend, must now,
to maintain the balance, strike his wife on the other. A tragedy was
about to begin which would terminate in a frightful catastrophe. Anne
Boleyn had not been brought up, as some have said, 'in the worst school
in Europe,'[263] but in one of the best—in the household of the pious
Margaret of Angoulême, who was the enlightened protectress not only of
the learned, but of all friends of the Gospel. Anne had learnt from that
princess to love the Reformation and the Reformers. And accordingly she
was in the eyes of the papal partisans, the principal cause of the
change that had been wrought in the king's mind, and by him throughout
the kingdom. The Reformation, as we have seen, began in England about
1517 with the reading of the Holy Scriptures in the universities; but
the most accredited Roman doctors have preferred assigning it another
origin, and, speaking of Cranmer's connexion with Anne Boleyn, thirteen
years later, have said, 'Such is the beginning of the Reformation in
England.'[264] In this assertion there is an error both of chronology
and history.

[Sidenote: CRANMER'S ELOQUENCE.]

Since her coronation, the queen had been in almost daily communication
with the archbishop of Canterbury, and habitually—even her enemies
affirmed it—the interests of the evangelical cause were treated of. At
one time Anne prayed Cranmer to come to the assistance of the persecuted
protestants. At another, full of the necessity of sending reapers into
the harvest, she interested herself about such young persons as were
poor, but whose pure morals and clear intellect seemed to qualify them
for the practice of virtue and the study of letters;[265] these she
assisted with great generosity.[266] This was also an example that
Margaret of Valois had given her. The queen did not encourage these
students heedlessly: she required testimonials certifying as to the
purity of their morals and the capacity of their intellect. If she was
satisfied, she placed them at Oxford or Cambridge, and required them to
spread around them, even while studying, the New Testament and the
writings of the reformers. Many of the queen's pensioners did great
service to the Church and State in after years. With these queenly
qualities Anne combined more domestic ones. Cranmer saw her, like good
Queen Claude, gathering round her a number of young ladies distinguished
by their birth and their virtues, and working with them at tapestry of
admirable perfection for the palace of Hampton Court, or at garments for
the indigent. She established in the poor parishes vast warehouses,
filled with such things as the needy wanted. 'Her eye of charity, her
hand of bounty,' says a biographer, 'passed through the whole
land.'[267] 'She is said in three quarters of a year,' adds Lord Herbert
of Cherbury, the celebrated philosopher and historian, 'to have bestowed
fourteen or fifteen thousand pounds in this way,' that is, in alms.[268]
And this distinguished writer, ambassador of England at the court of
Louis XIII., and known in France by the exertions he made in behalf of
the protestants, adds: 'She had besides established a stock for poor
artificers in the realm.'[269] Such were the works of Queen Anne.
Cranmer, who had great discernment of men and things, being touched by
the regard which the queen had for those who professed the Gospel, and
seeing all that she did for the Reformation and the consolation of the
wretched, declared that next to the king, Anne was of all creatures
living 'the one to whom he was most bound.'[270]

Cranmer was not the only person among the evangelicals with whom Anne
Boleyn entertained relations. From the first day she had seen Latimer,
the Christian simplicity and apostolic manners of the reformer had
touched her. When she heard him preach, she was delighted. The
enthusiasm for that bold Christian preacher was universal. 'It is as
impossible,' said his hearers, 'for us to receive into our minds all the
treasures of eloquence and knowledge which fall from his lips, as it
would be for a little river to contain the waters of the ocean in its
bed.' From the period (1535) when Latimer preached the Lent Sermons
before the king, he was one of the most regular instruments of the
queen's active charity.

A still more decided reformer had a high esteem for Anne Boleyn: this
was Tyndale. No one, in his opinion, had declared with so much decision
as the queen in favor of the New Testament and its circulation in
English. Wishing, accordingly, to show his gratitude and respect,
Tyndale presented her with a unique copy of his translation, printed in
beautiful type on vellum, illuminated and bound in blue morocco, with
these words in large red letters: _Anne Regina Angliæ_ (Anne, queen of
England).[271] This remarkable volume, now preserved in the library of
the British Museum, is a monument of the veneration of the prisoner of
Vilvorde for Anne Boleyn. A manuscript manual of devotion for the use of
this princess has also been preserved: she used to present copies of it
to her maids of honor. We see in it the value she attached to the Holy
Scriptures: 'Give us, O Father of Mercies,' we read, 'the greatest of
all gifts Thou hast ever conferred on man—the knowledge of Thy holy
will, and the glad tidings of our salvation. Roman tyranny had long
hidden it from us under Latin letters; but now it is promulgated,
published, and freely circulated.'[272]

[Sidenote: PARKER'S CHRISTIAN CHARACTER.]

Anne having in 1535 lost Dr. Betts, one of her almoners, looked out for
a man devoted to the Gospel to take his place, for she loved to be
surrounded by the most pious persons in England. She cast her eyes upon
Matthew Parker, a native of Norwich, professor at Corpus Christi
College, Cambridge, and a man who for two years had been preaching the
truth with fervor. Parker loved retirement and obscurity; accordingly,
when he received on the Wednesday following Palm Sunday two letters
summoning him to court 'because the queen wished to see him,'[273] he
was amazed and confounded. At first he wanted to refuse so brilliant a
call; but Latimer wrote to him: 'Show yourself to the world; hide
yourself no longer; do good, whilst you have the opportunity. We know
what you can do; let not your will be less than your power.'[274] Parker
went to London, and in a short time his knowledge, piety, and prudence
gained the entire esteem of the queen. That modest, intelligent, active
man was just the person Anne wanted, and she took pleasure thenceforward
in bestowing on him marks of her consideration. He himself tells us that
if, in the course of his duties, he was called upon to receive friends
at his table, the queen, eking out his narrow means, would send him a
hare or a fawn taken in her parks.[275] Parker was from this time one of
those employed by Anne to distribute her benevolence. He had hardly
arrived at court, when he presented to the queen one W. Bill, a very
young and very poor man, but by no means wanting in talent. Anne, rich
in discernment, placed him in the number of students whom she was
preparing for the ministry: he afterwards became dean of Westminster.
Parker, who began his career with Anne, was to finish it with Elizabeth.
When he was deprived of all his offices by Queen Mary in 1554, he
exclaimed: 'Now that I am stripped of everything, I live in God's
presence, and am full of joy in my conscience. In this charming leisure
I find greater pleasures than those supplied by the busy and perilous
life I led at the court.' Forced to hide himself, often to flee by
night, to escape the pursuit of his persecutors, the peace which he
enjoyed was never troubled. He looked upon trials as the privilege of
the child of God. All of a sudden a strange and unexpected calamity
befell him. The daughter of Anne Boleyn, having ascended the throne,
desired to have her mother's chaplain for archbishop of Canterbury and
primate of all England. 'I kneel before your Majesty,' he said to Queen
Elizabeth, 'and pray you not to burden me with an office which requires
a man of much more talent, knowledge, virtue, and experience than I
possess.' A second letter from Chancellor Bacon repeated the summons.
Then the unhappy Parker exclaimed in the depth of his sorrow: 'Alas!
alas! Lord God! for what times hast Thou preserved me![276] I am come
into deep waters, where the floods overflow me. O Lord! strengthen me by
Thy mighty Spirit!' Parker was at the head of the Church of England for
sixteen years, and dignified the elevated seat on which he had been
constrained to sit. Such were the men whom Anne Boleyn gathered round
her.

We should be mistaken, however, if we represented the young queen as a
bigot, living like Catherine in the practices of a rigid austerity. It
appears even doubtful whether she knew by experience that inner,
spiritual, and living Christianity which was found in Latimer, Tyndale,
Cranmer, and Parker. She was a virtuous wife, a good protestant,
attached to the Bible, opposed to the pope, fond of good works,
esteeming men of God more than courtiers: but she had not renounced the
world and its pomps. A woman of the world, upright, religious, loving to
do good, a class of which there is always a large number, she was
unacquainted with the pious aspirations of a soul that lives in
communion with God. Even her position as queen and wife of Henry VIII.
may have hindered her from advancing in the path of a Christian life.
She thought it possible to love God without renouncing the enjoyments of
the age, and looked upon worldly things as an innocent recreation.
Desiring to keep her husband's heart, she endeavored to please him by
cheerful conversation, by organizing pleasure parties of which she was
the life, and by receiving all his courtiers gracefully. Placed on a
slippery soil and watched by prejudiced eyes, she may occasionally have
let fall some imprudent expression. Her sprightliness and gaiety, her
amiable freedom were in strong contrast with the graver and stiffer
formalities of the English ladies. Latimer, who saw her closely,
sometimes admonished her respectfully, when he was alone with her, and
the grateful Anne would exclaim unaffectedly: 'You do me so much
good![277] Pray never pass over a single fault.'

[Sidenote: THE TRUTH ABOUT ANNE BOLEYN.]

It is not from the writings of the pamphleteers that we must learn to
know Anne Boleyn. Towards the end of the sixteenth century, opposite
parties, in their extreme excitement, have painted her at one time in
colors too dark, at another in colors too flattering. We must in this
matter especially listen to men whose testimony is sanctioned by
universal respect. There are not many princesses in history who have
enjoyed, like Anne, the esteem of the most elevated minds—of Cranmer and
Latimer, of Tyndale and Parker, and other Christians, less illustrious,
perhaps, but not less respectable. In the eyes of the papal partisans,
however, she had committed an unpardonable crime: _she had separated
England from the papacy_; and accordingly their savage hatred has known
no bounds, and they have never ceased to blacken her memory with their
vile calumnies. Of all the misdeeds that history can commit, the
greatest consists in representing the innocent as if they were guilty.
It is wholesale calumny for the use not only of the present generation
but for generations to come. Many writers have forged and still forge
base imputations against the reformers Luther, Calvin, and others. Anne
Boleyn has had her full share of slander in this huge conspiracy of
falsehood.[278]

The grandeur with which Anne was surrounded, had opened her heart to the
tenderest sympathies. To be the joy of her husband and the delight of
her relations, to protect the friends of the Gospel and to be loved by
England—these were for some time the dreams of her young imagination.
But ere long the crown of St. Edward pressed heavily on her forehead.
The members of her own family became her enemies. Her uncle, the proud
duke of Norfolk, the chief along with Gardiner of the ultramontane
party, was animated by a secret hatred against the young woman who was
the support of the evangelical party. Her father, the earl of Wiltshire,
imagining he saw that the king was not flattered at being his
son-in-law, had quitted London, regretting a union which his ambition
had so much desired. Lady Rocheford, wife of Anne's brother, a woman of
despicable character, whose former perfidies the queen had pardoned, and
whom she had attached to the court, repaid this generous magnanimity by
secretly plotting the ruin of a sister-in-law whose elevation had filled
her with jealousy. At length, one of those who ate her bread and
received favors from her, was about to show her ingratitude to the
unfortunate queen.

Among her ladies of honor was Jane Seymour, who united all the
attractions of youth and beauty, and whose disposition held a certain
mean between the severe gravity of Queen Catherine and the fascinating
sprightliness of Queen Anne. Constancy in affection was not a feature of
Henry's character; his heart was easily inflamed; his eye rested on the
youthful Jane Seymour, and no sooner had he become sensible of her
graces, than the charms of Anne Boleyn, which had formerly captivated
him, became unendurable. The genial gaiety of the queen fatigued him;
the accomplishments which are ordinarily the means of pleasing, gave him
umbrage; the zeal she manifested for Protestantism alienated him. Anne's
enemies, especially the duke of Norfolk and Lady Rocheford, observed
this, and resolved to take advantage of it to ruin the woman who
overshadowed them.

[Sidenote: ANNE'S CHARACTER AND MANNERS.]

One circumstance, innocent enough of itself, favored the designs of the
queen's enemies. Anne, who had been brought up in France, among a people
distinguished for their inexhaustible stores of gaiety, easy
conversation, witty and ingenious sallies, ironical phrases, and amiable
hearts, had brought something of all this to London. Frank and
prepossessing, she loved society; and her ordinary manners seemed too
easy among a nation which, with deep affections, possesses much gravity
and external coldness. Anne had found a certain freedom of speech in the
court of France—it does not appear that she even imitated it; but in a
moment of gaiety she might have let slip some keen railleries, some
imprudent words, and thus furnished her enemies with weapons. She had
some difficulty in conforming with the strict etiquette of the court of
England, and had not been trained to the circumspection so necessary
with a husband like Henry VIII.

Anne was, at the same time, a friend of the Reformation in the midst of
a society that was catholic at heart, and a Frenchwoman in the midst of
an English court; these were her two capital crimes. She was not
understood. Her gaiety did not degenerate into frivolity: she did not
possess that love of pleasure, which, carried to excess, engenders
corruption of manners; we have named the truly pious men whom she loved
to gather round her. But it was quite enough for some persons that Anne
was agreeable, like the ladies of St. Germains and Fontainebleau, to
suspect her of being a flirt, like many of them. Moreover, she had
married above her station. Having lived at court as the equal of the
young nobles belonging to it, she was not always able, after she
ascended the throne, to keep herself on the footing of a queen. From
that time her enemies interpreted unfavorably the innocent amiability
with which she received them. The mistrustful Henry VIII. began to
indulge in suspicions, and Viscountess Rocheford endeavored to feed that
prince's jealousy by crafty and perfidious insinuations.

[Sidenote: ANNE'S ANGUISH.]

Anne soon noticed the king's inclination for Jane Seymour: a thousand
trifles, apparently indifferent, had struck her. She often watched the
maid of honor; her pride was offended, and jealousy tortured her heart
night and day. She endeavored to win back the king's love; but Henry,
who perceived her suspicions, grew more angry with her every hour. The
queen was not far from her confinement; and it was at the very moment
when she hoped to give Henry the heir he had longed for during so many
years, that the king withdrew from her his conjugal affection. Her heart
was wrung, and, foreseeing a mournful future, she doubted whether a blow
similar to that which had struck Catherine might not soon be aimed at
her. Jane Seymour did not reject the king's advances. Historians of the
most opposite parties relate that one day, towards the end of January
1536, the queen, unexpectedly entering a room in the palace, found the
king paying his court to the young maid of honor in too marked a manner.
They may possibly exaggerate,[279] but there is no doubt that Henry gave
cause for very serious complaints on the part of his wife. It was as if
a sword had pierced the heart of the unfortunate Anne Boleyn: she could
not bear up against so cruel a blow, and prematurely gave birth to a
dead son. God had at length granted Henry that long-desired heir, but
the grief of the mother had cost the child's life. What an affliction
for her! For some time her recovery was despaired of. When the king
entered her room, she burst into tears. That selfish prince, soured at
the thought that she had borne him a dead son, cruelly upbraided her
misfortune, instead of consoling her. It was too much: the poor mother
could not restrain herself. 'You have no one to blame but yourself,' she
exclaimed.[280] Henry, still more angry, answered her harshly and left
the apartment.[281] These details are preserved by a well-informed
writer of the time of Elizabeth. To present Henry under so unfavorable a
light, if it were untrue, could hardly have been an agreeable mode of
paying court, as some have insinuated, to a queen who took more after
her father than her mother.

Anne now foresaw the misfortunes awaiting her: she recovered indeed
after this storm, and exerted herself by taking part once more in
conversaziones and fêtes; but she was melancholy and uneasy, like a
foundering ship, which reappears on the waves of the sea after the
storm, and still keeps afloat for a time, only to be swallowed up at
last. All her attempts to regain her husband's affections were useless,
and frightful dreams disturbed her during the slumbers of the night.
This agony lasted three months.

The wind had changed: everybody noticed it, and it was, to certain
heartless courtiers, like the signal given to an impatient pack of
hounds. They set themselves to hunt down the prey, which they felt they
could rend without danger. The ultramontanists regained their courage.
They had feared that, owing to Anne's intervention, the cause of Rome
was lost in England, and their alarm was not unreasonable. Cranmer,
uniting his efforts with those of the queen, never ceased pushing
forward the Reformation. When some one spoke in the House of Lords about
a General Council in Italy, he exclaimed: 'It is the Word of God alone
that we must listen to in religious controversies.' At the same time, in
concert with Anne, he circulated all over England a new Prayer-book,
_the Primer_, intended to replace the dangerous books of the
priests.[282] The people used it. A pious and spiritual reader of that
book exclaimed one day, after meditating upon it: 'O bountiful Jesu! O
sweet Saviour! despise not him whom Thou hast ransomed at the price of
such a treasure—with Thy blood! I look with confidence to the throne of
mercy.'[283] Religion was becoming personal with Anne Boleyn.

[Sidenote: ANNE'S ZEAL FOR RELIGION.]

The queen and the archbishop had not stopped there: they had attempted,
so far as Henry would permit, to place true shepherds over the flocks,
instead of merchants who traded with their wool. The bishopric of
Worcester, which had been taken from Ghinnucci, was given (as we have
seen) to Latimer; so that the valley of the Severn, which four Italian
bishops had plundered for fifty years, possessed at last a pastor who
'planted there the plenteousness of Jesus Christ.'[284] Shaxton, another
of Anne's chaplains, who at this time professed a great attachment to
Holy Scripture, had been appointed bishop of Salisbury, in place of the
famous Cardinal Campeggio. Hilderly, formerly a Dominican prior—who had
at one time defended the immaculate conception of the Virgin, but had
afterwards acknowledged and worshipped Jesus Christ as the only
Mediator—had been nominated to the see of Rochester, in place of the
unfortunate Bishop Fisher. Finally, George Brown, ex-provincial of the
Augustines in England—an upright man, a friend of the poor, and who,
caught by the truth, had exclaimed from the pulpit, 'Go to Christ and
not to the saints!'—had been elected archbishop of Dublin, and thus
became the first evangelical prelate of Ireland, a difficult post, which
he occupied at the peril of his life.[285] Other prelates, like Fox,
bishop of Hereford, although not true Protestants, proved themselves to
be anti-Papists.

The members of the ultramontane party saw the influence of the queen in
all these nominations. Who resisted the proposal that the English Church
should be represented at the General Council? Who endeavored to make the
king advance in the direction of the Reformation? Who threw England into
the arms of the princes of Germany?—The queen, none but the queen. She
felt unhappy, it was said, when she saw a day pass without having
obtained some favor for the Reformation.[286] Men knew that the pope was
ready to forgive everything, and even to unite with Henry against
Charles V., if the king would submit to the conditions laid down in the
bull—that is to say, if he would put away Anne Boleyn.[287]

The condition required by the pontiff was not an impossible one, for
Henry liked to change his wives: he had six. Marriage was not to him a
oneness of life. At the end of 1535, Anne had been his wife for three
years; it was a long time for him, and he began to turn his eyes upon
others. Jane Seymour's youth eclipsed the queen's. Unfortunate Boleyn!
Sorrow had gradually diminished her freshness. Jane had natural allies,
who might help her to ascend the throne. Her two Papers_, vii. p. 637,
640.] brothers, Edward and Thomas—the elder more moderate, the younger
more arrogant—each possessing great ambition and remarkable capacity,
thought that a Seymour was as worthy as a Boleyn to wear the English
crown. The first blow did not however proceed from them, but from a
member of the queen's family—from her sister-in-law. There is no room
for indifference between near relations: they love or, if they do not
love, they hate. Lady Rocheford, so closely allied to the queen, felt
continually piqued at her. Jealousy had engendered a deep dislike in her
heart, and this dislike was destined to lead her on to contrive the
death of the detested object. Rendered desperate by the happiness and
especially by the greatness of Anne Boleyn, it became her ruling passion
to destroy them. One obstacle, however, rose up before her. Lord
Rocheford, her husband and Anne's brother, would not enter into her
perfidious schemes. That depraved woman, who afterwards suffered capital
punishment for conniving at crime, determined to ruin her sister-in-law
and her husband together. It was arranged that three of the courtiers
should give Henry the first hints. 'Thus began,' says an author of that
day, 'a comedy which was changed into a sorrowful tragedy.'[288] Nothing
was omitted that tended to the success of one of the most infamous court
intrigues recorded in history.

Anne became cognizant almost at the same time of her sister-in-law's
hatred of her and of her husband's love for Jane Seymour. From that
moment she foreboded an early death, and her most anxious thoughts were
for her daughter. She wondered what would become of the poor child, and,
desirous of having her brought up in the knowledge of the Gospel, she
sent for the pious simple-minded Parker, told him of her apprehensions
and her wishes, and commended Elizabeth to him with all a mother's
love.[289] Anne's words sank so deep into his heart that he never forgot
them;[290] and twenty-three years later, when that child, who had become
queen, raised him to the primacy, he declared to Lord Burghley, that if
he were not under such great obligations to her mother, he would never
have consented to serve the daughter in such an elevated station.[291]
After consigning the youthful Elizabeth to the care of a man of God, the
unhappy queen was more at ease.

[Sidenote: CHARGES AGAINST ANNE.]

Meantime the plot was forming in silence, and two or three
circumstances, such as occur in the most innocent life, were the pretext
for Anne's destruction.

One day, when she was with the king at Winchester, she sent for one of
the court-musicians, named Smeton, 'to play on the virginals.'[292] This
was the first count in the indictment.

Norris, a gentleman of the king's chamber, was engaged to Margaret, one
of Anne's maids of honor, and consequently was often in the queen's
apartments. Slanderous tongues affirmed that he went more for the sake
of his sovereign than for his betrothed. The queen hearing of it, and
desiring to stop the scandal, determined to bind Norris to marry
Margaret. 'Why do you not go on with your marriage?' she asked him. 'I
desire to wait a little longer,' answered the gentleman. Anne, with the
intent of making him understand that there were serious reasons for not
putting it off any longer, added: 'It is said at court that you are
waiting for a dead man's shoes, and that if any misfortune befell the
king, you would look to have me for your wife.'[293] 'God forbid!'
exclaimed Norris, in alarm; 'if I had such an idea, it would be my
destruction.' 'Mind what you are about,' resumed the queen, with
severity. Norris, in great emotion, went immediately to Anne Boleyn's
almoner. 'The queen is a virtuous woman,' he said; 'I am willing to
affirm it upon oath.'[294] This was the second count in the indictment.

Sir Francis Weston, a bold frivolous man, was (although married) very
attentive to a young lady of the court, a relative of the queen. 'Sir
Francis,' said Anne, who was distressed at his behavior, 'you love
Mistress Skelton, and neglect your wife.' 'Madam,' answered the
audacious courtier, 'there is one person in your house whom I love
better than both.' 'And who is that?' said the queen. 'Yourself,'
answered Weston. Offended by such insolence, Anne ordered him, with
scorn and displeasure, to leave her presence.[295] This was the third
count of the indictment.

Lord Rocheford, a man of noble and chivalrous character, indignant at
the calumnies which were beginning to circulate against his sister,
endeavored to avert the storm. One day, when she kept her bed, he
entered her room to speak to her; and, the maids of honor being present,
he leant towards the queen, to say something on this matter which was
not fit for the ears of strangers to the family. The infamous Lady
Rocheford made use of this innocent circumstance to accuse her husband
and sister-in-law of an abominable crime.

Such are the four charges that were to cost Anne Boleyn her life. Futile
observations, malicious remarks to which persons are exposed in the
world, and especially at court, reached the ears of the king, and
inspired him with jealousy, reproaches, angry words, and coldness. There
was no more happiness for Anne.

There was enough in these stories to induce Henry VIII. to reject his
second wife, and take a third. This prince—and it was the case generally
with the Tudors—had a temper at once decided and changeable, a heart
susceptible and distrustful, an energetic character, and passions eager
to be satisfied at any price. Very mistrustful, he did not easily get
the better of his suspicions, and when any person had vexed him, he was
not appeased until he had got rid of him. Common-sense generally
appreciates at their true worth such stories as those we have reported;
but the characters now on the stage were more irritable than those
usually to be found in the world. 'A tempest,' says Lord Herbert of
Cherbury on this subject, 'though it scarce stir low and shallow waters,
when it meets a sea, both vexeth it, and makes it toss all that comes
thereon.'[296]

Henry, happy to have found the pretext which his new passion made him
long for, investigated nothing; he appeared to believe everything he was
told. He swore to prove Anne's guilt to others by the greatness of his
revenge. Of his six wives, he got rid of two by divorce, two by the
scaffold; only two escaped his criminal humor. This time he was
unwilling to proceed by divorce; the tediousness of Catherine's affair
had wearied him. He preferred a more expeditious mode—the axe.

[Sidenote: COMMISSION OF ENQUIRY.]

On the 25th of April the king appointed a commission to enquire into
Anne's conduct, and placed on it the duke of Norfolk, a maternal uncle
but (as we have said) an implacable enemy of the unfortunate queen; the
duke of Suffolk, who, as Henry's brother-in-law, served him in his least
desires; the earl of Oxford, a skilful courtier; William Paulet,
comptroller of the royal household, whose motto was, 'To be a willow and
not an oak;' Audley, the honestest of all, but still his master's humble
servant; Lord Delawarr, and several other lords and gentlemen, to the
number of twenty-six. It has been said, by Burnet and others, that the
king named Anne's father, the earl of Wiltshire, one of the judges. It
would, no doubt, have been the most striking trait of cruelty, of which
Henry gave so many proofs; but we must in justice declare that the
wretched prince did not perpetrate such a monstrosity. Burnet, after the
most searching investigations, retracted his error.[297] On Thursday,
the 27th of April, the king, understanding the necessity of a Parliament
to repeal the laws made in favor of Anne and her children, issued writs
for its assembling. He was resolved to hurry on the business—equally
impatient to hear no more of his wife, and to possess her who was the
object of his desires.

Anne, who was ignorant of what was going on, had gradually recovered a
little serenity, but it was not so with those around her. The court was
agitated and uneasy. The names of the commissioners were canvassed, and
people wondered where the terrible blows of the king would fall. Many
were alarmed for themselves or their friends. Would the storm burst on
Sir Thomas Wyatt, who wrote verses in Anne's honor? or on Lord
Northumberland, whom the queen had loved before Henry cast his eyes upon
her? The king did not intend to go so high.

The indecision did not last long. At two o'clock on the 27th of
April—the very day when the writs for the new Parliament were
issued—William Brereton, one of the gentlemen of the king's household,
pointed out by the queen's enemies, was arrested and taken to the Tower.
Two days later, on the 29th of April, Anne was crossing the
presence-chamber, where a miserable creature happened to be present at
that moment. It was Mark Smeton, the court-musician—a vain, cowardly,
corrupt man, who had felt hurt because, since the day when he had played
before the queen at Winchester, that princess had never even looked at
him. He was standing, in a dejected attitude, leaning against a window.
It is possible that, having heard of the disgrace that threatened the
queen, he hoped, by showing his sorrow, to obtain from her some mark of
interest. Be that as it may, his unusual presence in that room, the
posture he had assumed, the appearance of sorrow which he had put on,
were evidently intended to attract her attention. The trick succeeded.
Anne noticed him as she passed by. 'Why are you sad?' she asked. 'It is
no matter, madam.' The queen fancied that Smeton was grieved because she
had never spoken to him. 'You may not look to have me speak to you,' she
added, 'as if you were a nobleman, because you are an inferior person.'
'No, madam,' replied the musician, 'I need no words; a look sufficeth
me.'[298] He did not receive the look he asked for, and his wounded
vanity urged him from that moment to ruin the princess, by whom he had
the insolence to wish to be remarked. Smeton's words were reported to
the king, and next day (April 30), the musician was arrested, examined
at Stepney, and sent to the Tower.

[Sidenote: TOURNAMENT AT GREENWICH.]

A magnificent festival was preparing at Greenwich, to celebrate the
First of May in the usual manner. This was the strange moment which
Henry had chosen for unveiling his plans. In certain minds there appears
to be a mysterious connection between festivities and bloodshed; another
prince (Nero) had shown it in old times, and some years later
Charles IX. was to celebrate the marriage of his sister Margaret by the
massacres of St. Bartholomew. Henry VIII. gave to two of the victims he
was about to immolate the foremost places in the brilliant tournament he
had prepared. Lord Rocheford, the queen's brother, was the principal
challenger, and Henry Norris was chief of the defenders. Sir Francis
Weston was also to take part in these jousts. Henry showed himself very
gracious to them, and hid with smiles their approaching destruction. The
king having taken his place, and the queen, in a magnificent costume,
being seated by his side, Rocheford and Norris passed before him,
lowering their spears—_morituri te salutant_. The jousting began
immediately after. The circumstances of the court gave a gloomy
solemnity to the festival. The king, who was watching with fixed eyes
the struggles of his courtiers, started up all of a sudden, with every
appearance of anger, and hastily quitted the balcony. What had happened?
The ultramontane Sanders, notorious as being a most malicious and
fabulous writer, mentions that the queen had dropped her handkerchief
into the lists, and that Norris took it up and wiped his face with it.
Lord Herbert, Burnet, and others affirm that there is nothing to
corroborate the story, which, were it true, might be very innocent.
However, the festivities were interrupted by the king's departure. The
confusion was universal, and the alarmed queen withdrew, eager to know
the cause of the strange procedure.[299] Thus ended the rejoicings of
the First of May.

Henry, who had gone back to the palace, hearing of the queen's return,
refused to see her, ordered her to keep her room, mounted his horse,
and, accompanied by six gentlemen, galloped back to London. Slackening
his pace for a time, he took Norris aside, and, telling him the occasion
of his anger, promised to pardon him if he would confess. Norris
answered, with firmness and respect: 'Sire, if you were to cut me open
and take out my heart, I could only tell you what I know.'[300] On
reaching Whitehall, Henry said to his ministers: 'To-morrow morning you
will take Rocheford, Norris, and Weston to the Tower; you will then
proceed to Greenwich, arrest the queen, and put her in prison. Finally,
you will write to Cranmer and bid him go immediately to Lambeth, and
there await my orders.' The victims were seized, and the high-priest
summoned for the sacrifice.

The night was full of anguish to Anne Boleyn, and the next day, when she
was surrounded by her ladies, their consternation increased her terror.
It seemed to her impossible that a word from her would not convince her
husband of her innocence. 'I will positively see the king,' she
exclaimed. She ordered her barge to be prepared, but, just as she was
about to set out, another barge arrived from London, bringing Cromwell,
Audley, and the terrible Kingston, lieutenant of the Tower. That ominous
presence was a death-warrant: on seeing him the queen screamed aloud.

[Sidenote: ANNE BEFORE THE COUNCIL.]

They did not, however, remove her at once: the council, on which sat her
most violent adversaries, assembled in the palace, and Anne was summoned
to appear before it. The duke of Norfolk, the president, informed her
coldly of what she was accused, and named her pretended accomplices. At
these words, the queen, struck with astonishment and sorrow, fell on her
knees and cried out: 'O Lord, if I am guilty, may I never be forgiven!'
Then, recovering a little from her emotion, she replied to the
calumnious charges brought against her, to which Norfolk answered
carelessly and contemptuously, as if he were still speaking to the
little girl whom he had seen born, 'Tut, tut, tut,' and shook his head
disdainfully.[301] 'I desire to see the king,' said Anne. 'Impossible,'
answered the duke; 'that is not included in our commission.' 'I have
been very cruelly treated,' said Anne Boleyn, later, when speaking of
this horrible conversation with her uncle. 'It is his Majesty's good
pleasure that we conduct you to the Tower,' added Norfolk. 'I am ready
to obey,' said the queen, and all went in the same barge. When they
reached the Tower, Anne landed. The governor was there to receive her.
Norfolk and the other members of the council committed her into his
charge and departed. It was five in the afternoon.

Then the gates of the fortress opened; and at this moment, when she was
crossing the threshold under the charge of heinous crimes, Anne
remembered how, three years before, she had entered it in triumph for
the ceremony of her coronation, in the midst of the general acclamations
of the people. Struck by the fearful contrast, she fell on her knees 'as
a ball,'[302] and exclaimed, 'O Lord, help me, as I am guiltless of that
whereof I am accused!' The governor raised her up, and they entered. She
expected to be put into close confinement. 'Mr. Kingston,' she said,
'shall you put me into a dungeon?' 'No, madam,' answered the governor;
'you will be in your own lodging, where you lay at your coronation.' 'It
is too good for me,' she exclaimed. She entered, however, and on
reaching those royal chambers, which recalled such different
recollections, she knelt again and burst into tears. The violence of her
grief presently brought on convulsive movements, and her tears were
succeeded by hysterical laughter.[303] Gradually she came to herself,
and tried to collect her thoughts. Feeling the need of strengthening
herself by the evidences of the Lord's love, she said to Kingston,
'Entreat his Majesty to let me have the sacrament.'[304] Then, in the
consciousness of innocence, she added, 'Sir, I am as clear from the
company of man as I am of you. I am the king's true wedded wife.'[305]

[Sidenote: ANNE'S SYMPATHY.]

She was not absorbed in her own misfortunes: she was moved by the
sufferings of the others, and uneasy about her brother. 'Can you tell me
where Lord Rocheford is?' she asked. Kingston replied that he had seen
him at Whitehall. She was not tranquillized by this evasive answer. 'Oh,
where is my sweet brother?' she exclaimed. There was no reply. 'Mr.
Kingston,' resumed Anne, after a few moments, 'do you know why I am
here?' 'No, madam.' 'I hear say that I am to be accused of criminal
familiarities.' (Norfolk had told her so in the barge.) 'I can say no
more than—Nay!' Suddenly tearing one of her garments, she exclaimed, as
if distracted: 'If they were to open my body, I should still say—No.'
After this her mind wandered. She thought of her mother, and the love
she felt for the countess of Wiltshire made her feel more than anything
else the bitterness of her situation: she imagined the proud lady was
before her, and cried, with unutterable agony, 'O my mother, my mother,
thou wilt die for sorrow!' Then her gloomy thoughts were turned to other
objects. She remembered that, while in the barge, the duke of Norfolk
had named Norris and Smeton as her accusers, which was partly false. The
miserable musician was not grieved at being wrongfully accused of a
crime likely to make him notorious, but Norris had stoutly rejected the
idea that the queen could be guilty. 'O Norris, hast thou accused me!'
she ejaculated; 'and thou too, Smeton!' After a few moments' silence,
Anne fixed her eyes on the governor. 'Mr. Kingston,' she asked, 'shall I
die without justice?' 'Madam,' answered the governor, 'the meanest
subject of the king has that.' At these words the queen again laughed
hysterically. 'Justice—justice!' she exclaimed, with disdainful
incredulity. She counted less upon justice than the humblest of her
subjects. Gradually the tempest calmed down, and the silence of the
night brought relief to her sorrow.

The same day (May 2) the news spread through London that the queen was
arrested. Cranmer, who had received the royal intimation to go to his
palace at Lambeth, and wait there until further orders, had arrived, and
was thunderstruck on hearing what had happened. 'What! the queen in
prison! the queen an adulteress!'... A struggle took place in his bosom.
He was indebted to the queen for much; he had always found her
irreproachable—the refuge of the unhappy, the upholder of the truth. He
had loved her like a daughter, respected her as his sovereign. That she
was innocent, he had no doubt; but how account for the behavior of the
king? The unhappy prelate was distracted by the most painful thoughts
during the whole of Tuesday night. This truly pious man showed excessive
indulgence towards Henry VIII., and bent easily beneath his powerful
hand; but his path was clearly traced—to maintain unhesitatingly the
innocence of her whom he had always honored. And yet he was to be an
example of the fascination exerted by a despot over such characters—of
the cowardice of which a good man may be guilty through human respect.
Doubtless there are extenuating circumstances in his case. It was not
only the queen's fate that made the prelate uneasy, but also the future
of the Reformation. If love for Anne had helped to make Henry incline to
the side of the Reformation, the hatred which he now felt against his
unhappy wife might easily drive him into the other direction. Cranmer
desired to prevent this at any price, and accordingly thought himself
obliged to use extreme precaution. But these circumstances are really no
extenuation. No motive in the world can excuse a man from not frankly
defending his friends when they are falsely accused—from not vindicating
an innocent woman when she is declared to be guilty. Cranmer wrote to
the king: 'I cannot without your Majesty's command appear in your
presence; but I can at least desire most humbly, as is my duty, that
your great wisdom and God's help may remove the deep sorrow of your
heart.

[Sidenote: CRANMER'S LETTER TO HENRY.]

'I cannot deny that your Majesty has great cause to be overwhelmed with
sorrow. In fact, whether the things of which men speak be true or not,
your honor, Sire, according to the false appreciation of the world, has
suffered; and I do not remember that Almighty God has ever before put
your Majesty's firmness to so severe a proof.

'Sire, I am in such a perplexity that I am clean amazed; for I never had
a better opinion in woman than I had of her, which maketh me think that
she cannot be culpable.'[306]

This was tolerably bold, and accordingly Cranmer hastened to tone down
his boldness. 'And yet, Sire,' he added, 'would you have gone so far, if
you had not been sure of her crime?... Your Grace best knoweth that,
next unto your Grace, I was most bound unto her of all creatures living.
Wherefore I must humbly beseech your Grace to suffer me in that which
both God's law, nature, and her kindness bindeth me, unto that I may
(with your Grace's favor) wish and pray for her. And from what condition
your Grace, of your only mere goodness, took her, and set the crown upon
her head, I repute him not your Grace's faithful servant and subject,
nor true to the realm, that would not desire the offence to be without
mercy punished, to the example of all others. And as I loved her not a
little, for the love I judged her to bear towards God and His holy
Gospel; so, if she be proved guilty, there is not one that loveth God
and His Gospel that will ever favor her, for then there never was
creature in our time that so much slandered the Gospel.

'However,' he added, appearing to recover his courage, 'forget not that
God has shown His goodness to your Grace in many ways, and has never
injured you; whilst your Grace, I am sure, acknowledged that you have
offended Him. Extend, therefore, to the Gospel the precious favor you
have always shown it, and which proceedeth not from your love for the
queen your wife, but from your zeal for the truth.

'From Lambeth, 3d of May, 1636.'

When Cranmer addressed these soothing words to the king, it was
doubtless on the supposition (on which he gives no opinion) that Anne
was guilty. But, even admitting this hypothesis, is it not carrying
flattery of the terrible autocrat very far, to compare him with Job as
the prelate does? In another part of this letter he says: 'By accepting
all adversity, without despair and without murmuring, your Grace will
give opportunity to God to multiply His blessings, as He did to His
faithful servant Job, to whom, after his great calamity, and to reward
his patience, He restored the double of what He had possessed.' As
regards the king, Cranmer had found for himself a false conscience,
which led him into deceitful ways: his letter, although he still tries
to defend Anne, cannot be justified.

He was about to dispatch the letter, when he received a message from the
lord-chancellor, desiring him to come to the Star-Chamber. The
archbishop hastened across the Thames, and found at the appointed place
not only Audley, but the Lords Oxford and Sussex, and the
lord-chamberlain. These noblemen laid before him the charges brought
against Anne Boleyn, adding that they could be proved, though they did
not themselves produce any proof. On his return to Lambeth, Cranmer
added a postscript to his letter, in which he expressed his extreme
sorrow at the report that had just been made to him.

[Sidenote: CRUELTY TO ANNE BOLEYN.]

The morning of the same day (May 3) was a sad one in the Tower. By a
refinement of cruelty, the king had ordered two of the queen's
enemies—Lady Boleyn and Mistress Cosyns—to be always near her; to which
end they slept in her room, while Kingston and his wife slept outside
against her chamber-door. What could be the object of these strange
precautions? We can only see one. Every word that fell from Anne, even
in her convulsions or in her dreams, would be perfidiously caught up,
and reported to the king's agents with malicious interpretations. Anne,
pardoning the former conduct of these ladies, and wholly engrossed with
her father's sorrow, thought she might ask for news about him from the
persons who had been given her for companions; but those wicked women,
who never spoke to her without rudeness, refused to give her any
information. 'The king knew what he was doing,' said Anne to Kingston,
'when he put these two women about me. I could have desired to have two
ladies of my chamber, persons whom I love; but his Majesty has had the
cruelty to give me those whom I could never endure.'[307]

The punishment continued. Lady Boleyn, hoping to detect some confusion
in her niece's face, told her that her brother, Lord Rocheford, was also
in the Tower. Anne, who had somewhat recovered her strength, answered
calmly, 'I am glad to learn that he is so near me.' 'Madam,' added
Kingston, 'Weston and Brereton are also under my charge.' The queen
remained calm.[308]

She purposed, however, to vindicate herself, and her first thought
turned towards two of the most pious men in England: 'Oh, if God
permitted me,' she said, 'to have my bishops (meaning Cranmer and
Latimer), they would plead to the king for me.' She then remained silent
for a few minutes. A sweet reflection passed through her mind and
consoled her. Since she had undertaken the defence of the persecuted
evangelicals, gratitude would doubtless impel them to pray for her. 'I
think,' she said, 'that the greater part of England is praying for
me.'[309]

Anne had asked for her almoner, and, as some hours had elapsed without
his arrival, gloomy images once more arose to sadden her mind. 'To be a
queen,' she said, 'and to be treated so cruelly—treated as queen never
was before!' Then, as if a ray of sunshine had scattered the clouds, she
exclaimed: 'No, I shall not die—no, I will not die!... The king has put
me in prison only to prove me.' The terrible struggle was too great for
the young woman: she had convulsions and fits, and almost lost her
senses. Attacked by a fresh hysterical paroxysm, the unfortunate lady
burst into laughter. On coming to herself after a while, she cried: 'I
will have justice ... justice ... justice!'[310] Kingston, who was
present, bowed and said: 'Assuredly, madam.' 'If any man accuses me,'
she continued, 'I can only say—No. They can bring no witness against
me.'[311] Then she had, all at once, an extraordinary attack: she fell
down in delirium, and with eyes starting, as if she were looking into
the future, and could foresee the chastisement with which God would
punish the infamous wickedness of which she was the victim, she
exclaimed: 'If I am put to death, there will be great judgments upon
England for seven years.... And I ... I shall be in heaven ... for I
have done many good deeds during my life.'[312]

[263] Froude.

[264] Bossuet, _Histoire des Variations_, liv. vii. art. 8.

[265] 'Quorum morum ingenuitas et candor aliquis ingenii præluceret.'—
Letter of Sir John Cheke, 1535. Parker's _Correspondence_, p. 3.

[266] 'Reginæ magnificentia quæ erga studiosos late patuit.'—_Ibid._ p. 2.

[267] Wyatt, _Memoirs of Anne Boleyn_, p. 442.

[268] Herbert, _Reign of Henry VIII._ The sum was equivalent to about
60,000_l._ of our money.

[269] Herbert.

[270] 'I was most bound unto her of all creatures living.'—Cranmer to
Henry VIII., 1536. _Letters and Remains_, p. 324.

[271] Tyndale, _Doctrinal Treatises, Notice_, p. lxiv.

[272] _History of the Translation of the Bible_, p. 97. Todd's _Life of
Cranmer_, i. p. 136.

[273] Parker's _Correspondence_, pp. 1, 2.

[274] 'Notum est quid potes; fac non minus velis quam potes.'—_Ibid._
p. v.

[275] Parker to Sir W. Cecil, _ibid._ p. 178.

[276] 'Heu, heu! Domine Deus, in quæ tempora servasti me!'—Parker's
_Memoranda, Corresp._ p. 484.

[277] 'She heard her chaplain gladly to admonish her.'—Fuller, p. 200.

[278] This sort of conspiracy extends from the publication of the work
entitled, _De origine et progressu schismatis Anglicani_, 1585, by
Sanders—'a book,' says Bayle, 'in which there is much passion and very
little accuracy'—down to the _Histoire de Henri VIII._, by Audin, a
worthy successor of Sanders, and whose work is in high favor in all
papal coteries. This miserable manufacture of outrageous fictions began
even before Sanders, and is not yet ended.

[279] 'Janam (Seymour) genibus Henrici insidentem.'—Sanders, Heylin,
Lingard.

[280] 'Laying the fault upon unkindness.'—Wyatt.

[281] 'Which the king took more hardly.'—_Ibid._

[282] 'Pestilent and infectious books.'—_Preface to the Primer._

[283] Strype, i. p. 339; _Liturgies_, p. 477.

[284] Latimer's _Sermons_, p. 82.

[285] 'It was to the hazard of his life.'—Cranmer's _Memorials_, p. 38.

[286] Meteren, _Histoire des Pays-Bas_, p. 21.

[287] 'Hanno fondata questa bolla sopra la causa del matrimonio.'—_State
Papers_, vii. p. 637, 640.

[288] _Histoire de Anne Boleyn, royne d'Angleterre_, p. 181.—This
History, written in French verse of the sixteenth century, which M.
Crapelet has printed after three manuscripts in the Imperial Library at
Paris, is from the pen of Crespin, lord of Milherve, who was in London
at the time of which he speaks.

[289] 'What words her Grace's mother said to me of her (Elizabeth) not
six days before her apprehension.'—Parker's _Correspondence_, p. 59.

[290] Parker to Lord Burghley, 6th October, 1572.—_Ibid._ p. 400.

[291] Parker to Lord Burghley, 19th March, 1571.—_Ibid._ p. 391.

[292] Kingston's _Letters_, p. 455.

[293] Kingston's _Letters_, p. 452.

[294] 'He would swear for the queen that she was a good woman.'—_Ibid._

[295] 'And then she defied him in scorn and displeasure.'—Strype, p. 433.

[296] Herbert, p. 381 (ed. 1649).

[297] Addenda to the Third Book of his History.—He acknowledges that
this _mistake_, as he calls it, was an invention of the miserable
Sanders.

[298] Kingston's _Letters_, p. 455.

[299] 'This much troubled the whole company, especially the
queen.'—Herbert, p. 445.

[300] _Histoire d'Anne Boleyn_, by Crespin, p. 186. See also
_Archéologie_, xxiii. p. 64.

[301] Kingston's _Letters_, p. 456.

[302] 'This gracious queen falling down upon her knees _as a ball_, her
soul beaten down with affliction to the earth.'—Wyatt, p. 144.

[303] 'In the same sorrow, fell into great laughing.'—Kingston's
_Letters_, p. 451.

[304] Kingston's _Letters_, p. 451.

[305] _Ibid._

[306] Cranmer's _Letters and Remains_, letter clxxiv. to King
Henry VIII., pp. 323, 324.

[307] Cranmer's _Letters and Remains_, p. 457.

[308] 'She made a very good countenance.'—Cranmer's _Letters and
Remains_, p. 454.

[309] 'I think the most part of England prays for me.'—Kingston's
_Letters_, p. 457.

[310] Kingston's _Letters_, p. 457.

[311] _Ibid._

[312] Kingston's _Letters_, p. 457.




 CHAPTER X.
 ANNE FORGIVES HER ENEMIES, AND IS PUT TO DEATH.
 (MAY 1536.)


[Sidenote: AN UNJUST TRIBUNAL.]

Everything was preparing for the unjust judgment which was to have so
cruel a termination. Justice is bound to watch that the laws are
observed, and to punish the guilty; but if law is to be just law, the
judges must listen fairly to the accused, diligently discharge all the
duties to which their office calls them, and not permit themselves to be
influenced either by the presents or the solicitations, the threats or
the favors, or the rank (even should it be royal) of the prosecutor.
Their decisions should be inspired only by such motives as they can give
an account of to the Supreme Judge; their sentences must be arrived at
through attentive consideration and serious reflection. For them there
are no other guides than impartiality, conscience, and law. But the
queen was not to appear before such judges: those who were about to
dispose of her life set themselves in opposition to these imperious
conditions.

Henry's agents redoubled their exertions to obtain, either from the
ladies of the court or from the accused men, some deposition against
Anne; but it was in vain. Even the women whom her elevation had eclipsed
could allege nothing against her. Henry Norris, William Brereton, and
Sir Francis Weston were carefully interrogated, one after the other: the
examiners tried to make them confess their adultery, but they stoutly
denied it; whereupon the king's agents, who were determined to get at
something, began a fresh inquiry, and cross-examined the prisoners. It
is believed that the gentlemen of the court were exempted from torture,
but that the rack was applied to Mark Smeton, who was thus made to
confess all they wanted.[313] It is more probable that the vile
musician, a man of weak head and extreme vanity, being offended that his
sovereign had not condescended even to look at him, yielded to the
vengeance of irritated self-esteem. The queen had not been willing to
give him the honor of a look—he boasted of adultery. The three gentlemen
persevered in their declaration touching the queen's innocence: Lord
Rocheford did the same.[314] The disheartened prosecutor wrote to the
Lord-Treasurer: 'This is to inform you that no one, except Mark, will
confess anything against her; wherefore I imagine, if there be no other
evidence, the business will be injurious to the king's honor.'[315] The
lawyers knew the value to be given to the musician's words. If the
verdict was left to the equitable interpretation of the law—if the king
did not bring his sovereign influence to bear upon the decisions of the
judges, there could be no doubt as to the issue of the hateful trial.

But every passion was at work to paralyze the power of right. Vainly the
queen's innocence shone forth on every side—the conspiracy formed
against her grew stronger every day. To the wickedness of Lady
Rocheford, the jealousies of an intriguing _camarilla_, the hatred of
the ultramontane party, the unbridled ambition aroused in certain
families by the prospects of the despot's couch soon to be empty though
stained with blood, and to the instability of weak men, was added the
strong will of Henry VIII., as determined to get rid of Anne by death as
he had been to separate from Catherine by divorce. The queen understood
that she must die; and, wishing to be prepared, she sought to wean
herself from that life which had so many attractions for her. She felt
that the pleasures she had so enjoyed were vain; the knowledge that she
had endeavored to acquire, superficial; the virtue to which she had
aspired, imperfect; and the active life she had desired, without
decisive results. The vanity of all created things, once proclaimed by
one who also had occupied a throne, struck her heart. Everything being
taken from her, she renounced

  Le vain espoir de ce muable monde.[316]

Anne, giving up everything, turned towards a better life, and sought to
strengthen herself in God.[317]

[Sidenote: ANNE SEEKS THE BETTER LIFE.]

Such were her affecting dispositions when the duke of Norfolk,
accompanied by other noblemen, came in the king's name to set before her
the charges brought against her, to summon her to speak the truth, and
to assure her that, if she confessed her fault, the king might pardon
her. Anne replied with the dignity of a queen still upon the throne, and
with the calmness of a Christian at the gates of eternity. She threw
back with noble indignation the vile accusations of which the royal
commissioners were the channel:

  A ces seigneurs, parlant comme maîtresse.[318]

'You call upon me to speak the truth,' she said to Norfolk. 'Well then,
the king shall know it,' and she dismissed the lords. It was beneath her
to plead her cause before these malicious courtiers, but she would tell
her husband the truth. Left alone, she sat down to write that celebrated
letter, a noble monument of the elevation of her soul; a letter full of
the tenderest complaints and the sharpest protests, in which her
innocence shines forth, and which combines at once so much nature and
eloquence that in the opinion of the most competent judges it deserves
to be handed down to posterity. It ran as follows:—

[Sidenote: ANNE BOLEYN'S LETTER.]

'Your Grace's displeasure and my imprisonment are things so strange unto
me, that what to write, or what to excuse, I am altogether ignorant.
Whereas you sent to me (willing me to confess a truth and so obtain your
favor), by such a one whom you know to be my ancient professed enemy; I
no sooner received this message by him, than I rightly conceived your
meaning; and if, as you say, confessing a truth indeed may procure my
safety, I shall with all willingness and duty perform your command.

'But let not your Grace ever imagine that your poor wife will ever be
brought to acknowledge a fault, where not so much as a thought thereof
ever proceeded. And, to speak truth, never a prince had wife more loyal
in all duty and in all true affection, than you have ever found in Anne
Boleyn—with which name and place I could willingly have contented
myself, if God and your Grace's pleasure had so pleased. Neither did I
at any time so far forget myself in my exaltation or received queenship,
but that I always looked for such alteration as I now find; for the
ground of my preferment being on no surer foundation than your Grace's
fancy, the least alteration was fit and sufficient (I knew) to draw that
fancy to some other subject.

'You have chosen me from a low estate to be your queen and companion,
far beyond my desert or desire. If then you found me worthy of such
honor, good your Grace, let not any light fancy or bad counsel of my
enemies withdraw your princely favor from me; neither let that
stain—that unworthy stain—of a disloyal heart towards your good Grace
ever cast so foul a blot on me and on the infant princess, your
daughter.

'Try me, good king, but let me have a lawful trial, and let not my sworn
enemies sit as my accusers and as my judges; yea, let me receive an open
trial, for my truth shall fear no open shames. Then shall you see either
mine innocence cleared, your suspicions and conscience satisfied, the
ignominy and slander of the world stopped—or my guilt openly declared;
so that whatever God and you may determine of, your Grace may be freed
from an open censure, and mine offence being so lawfully proved, your
Grace may be at liberty, both before God and man, not only to execute
worthy punishment on me, as an unfaithful wife, but to follow your
affection already settled on that party, for whose sake I am now as I
am; whose name I could, some good while since, have pointed unto, your
Grace being not ignorant of my suspicion therein. But if you have
already determined of me, and that not only my death but an infamous
slander must bring you the joying of your desired happiness, then I
desire of God that He will pardon your great sin herein, and likewise my
enemies, the instruments thereof; and that He will not call you to a
strict account for your unprincely and cruel usage of me at His general
judgment-seat, where both you and myself must shortly appear; and in
whose just judgment, I doubt not (whatsoever the world may think of me),
mine innocency shall be openly known and sufficiently cleared.

'My last and only request shall be, that myself may only bear the burden
of your Grace's displeasure, and that it may not touch the innocent
souls of those poor gentlemen, who, as I understand, are likewise in
strait imprisonment for my sake. If ever I have found favor in your
sight—if ever the name of Anne Boleyn have been pleasing in your
ears—then let me obtain this request; and so I will leave to trouble
your Grace any further; with mine earnest prayer to the Trinity to have
your Grace in His good keeping, and to direct you in all your actions.

'From my doleful prison in the Tower, the 6th of May.

'ANNE BOLEYN.'

We see Anne thoroughly in this letter, one of the most touching that was
ever written. Injured in her honor, she speaks without fear, as one on
the threshold of eternity. If there were no other proofs of her
innocence, this document alone would suffice to gain her cause in the
eyes of an impartial and intelligent posterity.[319]

[Sidenote: EFFECT OF ANNE'S LETTER ON HENRY.]

That noble letter aroused a tempest in the king's heart. The firm
innocence stamped on it; the mention of Henry's tastes, and especially
of his inclination for Jane Seymour; Anne's declaration that she had
anticipated her husband's infidelity, the solemn appeal to the day of
judgment, and the thought of the injury which such noble language would
do to his reputation—all combined to fill that haughty prince with
vexation, hatred, and wrath. That letter gives the real solution of the
enigma. A guilty caprice had inclined Henry to Anne Boleyn; another
caprice inclined him now to Jane Seymour. This explanation is so patent
that no one need look for another.

Henry determined to inflict a great humiliation upon this daring woman.
He would strip her of the name of wife, and pretend that she had only
been his concubine. As his marriage with Catherine of Aragon had been
declared null because of her union with his brother Arthur, Henry
imagined that his marriage with Anne Boleyn might be annulled because of
an attachment once entertained for her by Percy, afterwards duke of
Northumberland. When that nobleman was summoned before Cromwell, he
thought that he also was to be thrown into the Tower as the queen's
lover; but the summons had reference to quite a different matter. 'There
was a pre-contract of marriage between you and Anne Boleyn?' asked the
king's vicar-general. 'None at all,' he answered; and in order that his
declaration might be recorded, he wrote it down and sent it to Cromwell.
In it he said: 'Referring to the oath I made in this matter before the
archbishops of Canterbury and York, and before the Blessed Body of our
Saviour, which I received in the presence of the duke of Norfolk, and
others of his majesty's counsellors, I acknowledge to have eaten the
Holy Sacrament to my condemnation, if there was any contract or promise
of marriage between the queen and me. This 13th of May, in the
twenty-eighth year of his majesty King Henry VIII.'[320] This
declaration was clear, but the barbarous monarch did not relinquish his
idea.

A special commission had been appointed, on the 24th of April, 'to judge
of certain offences committed at London, Hampton Court, and Greenwich.'
They desired to give to this trial the appearance at least of justice;
and as the alleged offences were committed in the counties of Middlesex
and Kent, the indictment was laid before the grand juries of both
counties. On the 20th of May they found a true bill. The writers
favorable to Henry VIII. in this business—and they are few—have
acknowledged that these 'hideous charges' (to use the words of one of
them) were but fables invented at pleasure, and which 'overstepped all
ordinary bounds of credulity.'[321] Various explanations have been given
of the conduct of these juries; the most natural appears to be that they
accommodated themselves, according to the servile manner of the times,
to the king's despotic will, which was always to be feared, but more
especially in matters that concerned his own person.

The acts that followed were as prompt as they were cruel. Two days after
(on May 12) Norris, Weston, Brereton, and the musician were taken to
Westminster, and brought before a commission composed of the dukes of
Norfolk and Suffolk, Henry's two intimates, and other lords, and it is
even said that the earl of Wiltshire was present.[322] The three
gentlemen repelled the charge with unshakable firmness. 'I would endure
a thousand deaths,' said Norris, 'sooner than betray the innocent. I
declare, upon my honor, that the queen is innocent, and am ready to
support my testimony in arms against all the world.'[323] When this
language of Henry VIII.'s favorite was reported to that prince, he cried
out: 'Hang him up, then—hang him up!'[324] The wretched musician alone
confessed a crime which would give him a place in history. He did not
reap the reward promised to his infamy. Perhaps it was imagined that his
death would guarantee his silence, and that his punishment would
corroborate his defamations. The three gentlemen were condemned to be
beheaded, and the musician to be hanged.

[Sidenote: QUEEN ANNE'S TRIAL.]

Three days later (on May 15) the queen and her brother were taken before
their peers in the great hall of the Tower, to which the Lord Mayor and
a few aldermen and citizens alone were admitted. The duke of Norfolk had
received orders to assemble a certain number of peers to form a court:
they were twenty-six in all, and most of them enemies of Anne and of the
Reformation.[325] The earl of Wiltshire was not of the number, as
Sanders pretends.[326] The duke of Norfolk, the personal enemy of the
unfortunate queen, that uncle who hated her as much as he should have
loved her, had been appointed to select the judges and to preside over
the trial: a circumstance indicative of the spirit in which it was to be
conducted. Norfolk took his seat, having the lord-chancellor on his
right and the duke of Suffolk on his left, and in front of him sat as
deputy-marshal the earl of Surrey, Norfolk's son, an upright man, but a
proud and warm supporter of Romanism. The queen was announced: she was
received in deep silence. Before her went the governor of the Tower,
behind her came Lady Kingston and Lady Boleyn. Anne advanced with
dignity, adorned with the ensigns of royalty, and, after gracefully
saluting the court, took her seat in the chair accorded either to her
weakness or her rank. She had no defender; but the modesty of her
countenance, the dignity of her manner, the peace of her conscience,
which found expression in the serenity of her look, touched even her
enemies. She appeared before the tribunal of men, thinking only of the
tribunal of God; and, relying upon her innocence, she did not fear those
whom but yesterday she had ruled as a queen. One might have said from
the calmness and nobility of her deportment, so assured and so majestic,
that she was come, not to be tried as a criminal, but to receive the
honors due to sovereigns. She was as firm, says a contemporary, as an
oak that fears neither the hail nor the furious blasts of the wind.[327]

The court ordered the indictment to be read; it charged the queen with
adultery, incest, and conspiracy against the king's person. Anne held up
her hand and pleaded 'not guilty,' and then refuted and tore to tatters,
calmly yet forcibly, the accusations brought against her. Having an
'excellent quick wit,' and being a ready speaker, she did not utter a
word that did not strike home,[328] though full of moderation; but the
tone of her voice, the calmness of her features, and the dignity of her
countenance, pleaded more eloquently than her words. It was impossible
to look at her or to hear her, and not declare her innocent, says an
eye-witness.[329] Accordingly there was a report in the Tower, and even
in the city, that the queen had cleared herself by a most wise and noble
speech and that she would be acquitted.

While Anne was speaking, the duke of Northumberland, who had once loved
her and whom Henry had cruelly enrolled among the number of her judges,
betrayed by his uneasy movements the agitation of his bosom. Unable to
endure the frightful torment any longer, he rose, pretending
indisposition, and hastily left the hall before the fatal verdict was
pronounced.

The king waited impatiently for the moment when he could introduce Jane
Seymour into Anne Boleyn's empty apartments. Unanimity of votes was not
necessary in the House of Peers. In England, during the sixteenth
century, there was pride in the people, but servility (with few
exceptions) among the great. The axe that had severed the head of the
venerable bishop of Rochester and of the ex-chancellor More, had taught
a fearful lesson to all who might be disposed to resist the despotic
desires of the prince. The court feared to confront the queen with the
musician, the only witness against her, and declared her guilty without
other formality. The incomprehensible facility with which the nobility
were then accustomed to submit to the inflexible will of the monarch,
could leave no room for doubt as to the catastrophe by which this
tragedy would be terminated.[330]

[Sidenote: ANNE'S SENTENCE.]

The duke of Norfolk, as lord high-steward, pronounced sentence: that the
queen should be taken back to the Tower, and there on the green should
be burnt or beheaded, _according to his majesty's good pleasure_. The
court, desirous of leaving a little space for Henry's compassion, left
the mode of death to him: he might do the queen the favor of being only
decapitated.

Anne heard this infamous doom with calmness.[331] No change was observed
in her features: the consciousness of innocence upheld her heart.
Clasping her hand and raising her eyes to heaven, she cried out, 'O
Father, O Creator! Thou who art the way, the truth, and the life,
knowest that I have not deserved this death!'[332] Then, turning to her
cruel uncle and the other lords, she said: 'My lords, I do not say that
my opinion ought to be preferred to your judgment; but if you have
reasons to justify it, they must be other than those which have been
produced in court, for I am wholly innocent of all the matters of which
I have been accused, so that I cannot call upon God to pardon me. I have
always been faithful to the king my lord; but perhaps I have not always
shown to him such a perfect humility and reverence as his graciousness
and courtesy deserved, and the honor he hath done me required. I confess
that I have often had jealous fancies against him which I had not wisdom
or strength enough to repress. But God knows that I have not otherwise
trespassed against him. Do not think I say this in the hope of
prolonging my life, for He who saveth from death has taught me how to
die, and will strengthen my faith. Think not, however, that I am so
bewildered in mind that I do not care to vindicate my innocence. I knew
that it would avail me little to defend it at the last moment, if I had
not maintained it all my life long, as much as ever queen did. Still the
last words of my mouth shall justify my honor. As for my brother and the
other gentlemen who are unjustly condemned, I would willingly die to
save them; but as that is not the king's pleasure, I shall accompany
them in death. And then afterwards I shall live in eternal peace and joy
without end, where I will pray to God for the king—and for you, my
lords.'[333]

The wisdom and eloquence of this speech, aided by the queen's beauty and
the touching expression of her voice, moved even her enemies. But
Norfolk, determined upon carrying out his hateful task, ordered her to
lay aside her royal insignia. She did so, and commending herself to all
their prayers, returned to her prison.

Lord Rocheford now came forward and took his sister's place. He was calm
and firm, and answered every question point by point, with much
clearness and decision. But it was useless for him to affirm the queen's
innocence—useless to declare that he had always respected her as a
sister, as an 'honored lady:' he was condemned to be beheaded and
quartered.

The court then broke up, and while the courtiers, who had just sealed
with the blood of an innocent queen their servile submission to the most
formidable of despots, were returning to their amusements and base
flatteries, the Lord Mayor turned to a friend and said to him: 'I can
only observe one thing in this trial—the fixed resolution to get rid of
the queen at any price.' And that is the verdict of posterity.

[Sidenote: LORD ROCHEFORD BEHEADED.]

The wretches who had entered into this iniquitous plot were eager to
have it ended. On the 17th of May the gentlemen who were to be executed
were brought together into a hall of the Tower. They embraced, commended
each other to God, and prepared to depart.[334] The constable of the
Tower, fearing that they would speak upon the scaffold, reminded them
that the honor due to the king would not permit them to doubt the
justice of their sentence. When they reached the place of punishment,
Lord Rocheford, no longer able to keep silence, turned towards the
spectators and said: 'My friends, I am going to die, as such is his
majesty's pleasure. I do not complain of my death, for I have committed
many sins during my life, but _I have never injured the king_. May God
grant him a long and happy life!' Then, according to the chronicler, he
presented his head

  Au dur tranchant qui d'un coup l'emporta.[335]

Norris, Weston, and Brereton were beheaded after him.

The king, before putting his wife to death, desired to perform an act
not less cruel: he was determined to annul his marriage with Anne,
notwithstanding Northumberland's denials. Did he wish to avoid the
reproach of causing his wife to perish by the hands of the executioner?
or, in a fit of anger, did he desire to strike the queen on all sides at
once? We cannot tell. Be that as it may, the king in his wrath did not
see that he was contradicting himself; that if there was no marriage
between him and Anne, there could be no adultery, and that the sentence,
based on this crime, was _ex facto_ null. Cranmer, the most unfortunate,
but perhaps not the least guilty of all the lords who lent themselves
servilely to the despotic wishes of the prince—Cranmer believed (as it
appears) that the position of the queen would thus become better; that
her life would be saved, if she could no longer be regarded as having
been Henry's wife. This excuses, although slightly, his great weakness.
He told the unhappy lady that he was commissioned to find the means of
declaring null and void the ties which united her to the king. Anne,
stunned by the sentence pronounced upon her, was also of opinion that it
was an expedient invented by some relics of Henry's regard, to rescue
her from the bitterness of death. Her heart opened to hope, and
imagining that she would only be sent into banishment, she formed a plan
of returning to the continent. 'I will go to Antwerp,' she said at
dinner, with an almost happy look.[336] She knew that she would meet
with protestants in that city, who would receive her with joy. But vain
hope! In the very letter wherein the governor of the Tower reports this
ingenuous remark of the queen, he asks for the king's orders as to the
construction of the scaffold.[337] Henry desired personally to order the
arrangement of those planks which he was about to stain with innocent
blood.

About nine o'clock in the forenoon of the 17th of May the
lord-chancellor, the duke of Suffolk, the earl of Essex (Cromwell), the
earl of Sussex, with several doctors and archdeacons entered the chapel
at Lambeth.[338] The archbishop having taken his seat, and the
objections made against the marriage of Henry VIII. and Anne Boleyn
having been read, the proctors of the king and of the queen admitted
them, and the primate declared the marriage to be null and void. The
queen was not present, as some historians have thought.

[Sidenote: DELIGHT OF THE POPE.]

On the very day of Anne Boleyn's divorce, Da Casale, the English envoy
at Rome, having heard of the queen's imprisonment, hurried to the
pontifical palace to inform Paul III. of the good news.[339] 'I have
never ceased praying to heaven for this favor,' said the pope with
delight, 'and I have always hoped for it. Now his majesty may accomplish
an admirable work for the good of Christendom. Let the king become
reconciled with Rome, and he will obtain from the king of France all
that he can wish for. Let us be friends. I will send him a nuncio for
that purpose. When the news of cardinal Fisher's death reached Rome,' he
continued, recollecting that terrible bull, 'it is true I found myself
driven to a measure somewhat severe ... but I never intended to follow
up my words by deeds.' Thus, according to the pope and his adherents,
the imprisonment of Anne Boleyn was to reconcile England and Rome. This
fact points to one of the causes which made Norfolk and other catholics
enter into the conspiracy against her.

On the same day also (17th of May), towards evening, the queen learnt
that the sentence would assuredly be carried out. Although it was
declared that she had never been the king's wife, the doom pronounced
upon her for adultery must nevertheless be accomplished. This is what
Henry VIII. called administering justice.

[Sidenote: ANNE ASKS MARY'S PARDON.]

Anne desired to take the Lord's Supper, and asked to be left alone.
About two hours after midnight the chaplain arrived; but, before
partaking of the holy rite, there was one thing she wished to do. One
fault weighed heavily on her heart. She felt that she had sinned against
queen Catherine by consenting to marry the king. Her conscience
reproached her with having injured the princess Mary. It filled her with
the deepest sorrow, and she was eager, before she died, to make
reparation to the daughter of the woman whose place she had taken. Anne
would have liked to see Mary, to fall a queen at her feet, and implore
her pardon; but alas! she could not: she was only to leave the prison
for the scaffold. Resolved, however, to confess her fault, she did so in
a striking manner, which showed all the sincerity of her repentance and
her firm determination to humble herself before Catherine's daughter.
She begged Lady Kingston, the wife of the constable of the Tower, who
had little regard for her, to take her seat in the chair of state. When
the latter objected, Anne compelled her, and kneeling before her, she
said, all the while crying bitterly: 'I charge you—as you would answer
before God—to go in my name to the princess Mary, to fall down before
her as I do now before you, and ask her forgiveness for all the wrongs I
have done her. Until that is done,' she added, 'my conscience will have
no rest.'[340] At the moment when she was about to appear before the
throne of God, she wished to make reparation for a fault that weighed
heavily upon her heart. 'In that,' she said, 'I wish to do what a
Christian ought.' This touching incident leads us to hope that if,
during life, Anne was simply an honest protestant, trusting too much to
her own works, the trial had borne fruit and had made her a true
Christian. But of this she was to give a still more striking proof.

As she rose from her knees, Anne felt more calm and prepared to receive
the sacrament. Before taking it, she once more declared her innocence of
the crime imputed to her. The governor was present, and he did not fail
to inform Cromwell of this declaration, made as it were in the presence
of God. Anne had found in Christ's death new strength to endure her own:
she sighed after the moment that would put an end to her sorrows.
Contrary to her expectation, she was told that the execution was put off
until the afternoon. 'Mr. Kingston,' she said, 'I hear that I am not to
die this afternoon, and I am very sorry for it; for I thought by this
time to be dead and past my pain.'—'Madam,' replied the governor, 'you
will feel no pain, the blow will be so sharp and swift.'—'Yes,' resumed
Anne, 'I have heard say that the headsman is very clever,' and then she
added: 'and I have but a little neck,' putting her hand about it and
smiling.[341] Kingston left the room.

Meanwhile the devout adherents of the Roman primacy were full of
exultation, and allowed the hopes to appear which Anne's death raised in
their bosoms. 'Sire,' they told the king, 'the tapers placed round the
tomb of queen Catherine suddenly burst into flame of their own
accord.'[342] They concluded, from this prodigy, that Roman-catholicism
was once more about to shed its light on England. The priests were eager
to chant their _Deo gratias_, and a report was circulated that this new
victory over the Reformation was going to be inaugurated by hanging a
group of heretics along with Anne.[343] Neither friends nor enemies drew
any real distinction between the cause of Anne and the cause of
protestantism; and many evangelical Christians, imagining that when Anne
was dead there would be no one to protect them any longer, prepared to
quit the kingdom.

Henry, however, keenly desiring to have if it were but one word from
Anne that would exculpate him, sent some one to her with a commission to
sound her, and to discover whether the hope of escaping death would not
induce her to satisfy him. Anne replied, and they were the last words
she addressed to the king: 'Commend me to his majesty, and tell him that
he has ever been constant in his career of advancing me. From a private
gentlewoman he made me a marchioness, from a marchioness a queen; and
now that he has no higher degree of honor left, he gives my innocence
the crown of martyrdom.'[344] The gentleman went and reported this noble
farewell to his master. Even the jailer bore testimony to the peace and
joy which filled Anne Boleyn's heart at this solemn moment. 'I have seen
men and also women executed,' wrote Kingston to Cromwell, 'and they have
been in great sorrow; but to my knowledge this lady has much joy and
pleasure in death.'[345]

[Sidenote: ANNE'S EXECUTION.]

Everything was arranged so that the murder should be perpetrated without
publicity and without disturbance. Kingston received orders to turn all
strangers out of the Tower, and readily obeyed. About eleven in the
forenoon of the 19th of May, the dukes of Suffolk and Richmond, the
lord-chancellor, Cromwell, the lord-mayor with the sheriffs and
aldermen, entered the Tower, and took their stations on the green, where
the instrument of punishment had been erected. The executioner, whom
Henry had summoned from Calais, was there with his axe and his
attendants. A cannon, mounted on the walls, was to announce both to king
and people that all was over. A little past noon Anne appeared, dressed
in a robe of black damask, and attended by four of her maids of honor.
She walked up to the block on which she was to lay her head. Her step
was firm, her looks calm; all indicated the most complete resignation.
She was then thirty years old, and 'never had she looked so beautiful
before,'[346] says a French contemporary, then in London. Her eyes
expressed a meek submission; a pleasing smile accompanied the look she
turned on the spectators of this tragic scene.[347] But just when the
executioners had made the last preparations, her emotion was so keen
that she nearly fainted. Gradually she recovered her strength, and her
faith in the Saviour filled her with courage and hope.

It is important to know what, in this last and solemn moment, were her
sentiments towards the king. She had desired that Mary should be asked
to forgive her wrongs: it was her duty, if she died a Christian, also to
pardon Henry's faults. She must obey her Saviour, who said: '_Love your
enemies, bless them that curse you_.' She had pardoned everything; but
it was her duty to declare it before she died, and if she was humble,
she would do so without affectation. Addressing those who had been her
subjects and were then standing round her, she said: 'Good Christian
people, I am not come here to justify myself; I leave my justification
entirely to Christ, in whom I put my trust. I will accuse no man, nor
speak anything of that whereof I am accused, as I know full well that
aught that I could say in my defence doth not appertain unto you, and
that I could draw no hope of life from the same. I come here only to
die, according as I have been condemned. I commend my judges to the
Lord's mercy. I pray God (and I beg you to do the same) to save the king
and send him long to reign over you, for a gentler or more merciful
prince there never was. To me he was ever a good, gentle, and sovereign
lord. And thus I take my leave of the world and of you, and I heartily
desire you all to pray for me. O Lord, have mercy upon me! To God I
commit my soul!'[348]

Such are the simple words in which Anne gave utterance to the feelings
of peace with which her heart was filled towards her husband, at the
moment when he was robbing her of life. Had she said that she forgave
him, she would have called up the memory of the king's crime, and would
thus have appeared to claim the merit of her generous pardon. She did
nothing of the sort. During one part of their wedded life, Henry had
been a 'good lord' to her. She desired to recall the good only, and
buried the evil in oblivion. She did so without any thought of self; for
she knew that before the gracious words could reach the king's ears, the
axe would have already fallen upon her, and it would be impossible for
Henry to arrest the fatal blow.

This Christian discourse could not fail to make a deep impression on all
who heard her. As they looked at the unfortunate queen, they felt the
tenderest compassion and the sharpest pain.[349] The firmer her heart
became, the weaker grew the spectators of the tragedy. Ere long they
were unable to check the tears which the sufferer had the strength to
restrain.[350] One of the ladies of the royal victim approached her to
cover her eyes; but Anne refused, saying that she was not afraid of
death, and gave her as a memorial of that hour, a little manuscript
prayer-book that she had brought with her.

The queen then removed her white collar and took off her hood, that the
action of the axe might not be impeded;[351] this head-dress formed a
queue and hung down behind. Then falling on her knees, she remained a
few moments silent and motionless, praying inwardly. On rising up, she
approached the fatal block, and laid her head on it: 'O Christ, into thy
hands I commit my soul!' she exclaimed. The headsman, disturbed by the
mild expression of her face, hesitated a few seconds, but his courage
returned. Anne cried out again: 'O Jesus, receive my soul!' At this
instant the axe of the executioner flashed in the air and her head fell.
A cry escaped from the lips of the spectators, 'as if they had received
the blow upon their own necks.'[352] This is honorable to Anne's
enemies, so that we may well believe the evidence. But immediately
another sound was heard: the gunner, placed as a signal-man on the wall,
had watched the different phases of the scene, holding a lighted match
in his hand; scarcely had the head fallen, when he fired the gun, and
the report, which was heard at a distance, bore to Henry the news of the
crime which gave him Jane Seymour.[353] The ladies of queen Anne, though
almost lifeless with terror, would not permit the noble remains of the
mistress, whom they had loved so much, to be touched by rude hands; they
gathered round the body, wrapped it in a white sheet, and carried it
(almost fainting as they were) to an old elm chest, which had been
brought out of the arsenal and had been used for storing arrows. This
rough box was the last home assigned to her who had inhabited costly
palaces: not so much as a coffin had been provided for her. The ladies
placed in it Anne's head and body; 'the eyes and lips were observed to
move,' says a document, as if her mouth was repeating the last words it
had uttered. She was immediately buried in the Tower chapel.[354]

Thus died Anne Boleyn. If the violent passions of a prince and the
meanness of his courtiers brought her to an untimely death, hatred and
credulity have killed her a second time. But an infamous calumny, forged
by dishonest individuals, ought to be sternly rejected by all sensible
men. Not in vain did Anne, at the hour of death, place her cause in the
hands of God, and we willingly believe that all enlightened men, without
prejudice or partiality, among Roman-catholics as among others, turn
with disgust from the vile falsehoods of malicious courtiers and the
deceitful fables of the papist Sanders and his followers.

[Sidenote: HENRY'S INHUMANITY.]

On the morning of this day, Henry VIII. had dressed himself in white, as
for a festival, and ordered a hunting-party. There was a great stir
round the palace; huntsmen hurrying to and fro, dogs baying, horns
sounding, nobles arriving. The troop was formed and they all set off for
Epping Forest, where the sport began. At noon the hunters met to repose
themselves under an oak which still bears the name of the _King's Oak_.
Henry had taken his seat beneath it, surrounded by his suite and the
dogs; he listened and seemed to be agitated. Suddenly a cannon shot
resounded through the forest—it was the concerted signal—the queen's
head had fallen. 'Ha, ha!' exclaimed the king, rising, 'the deed is
done! uncouple the hounds and away.'[355] Horns and trumpets were
sounded, and dogs and horses were soon in pursuit. The wretched prince,
led away by his passions, forgot that there is a God to whom he would
have to render an account not only of the execution in the Tower, but of
the chase in the forest; and by these cruel acts, which should have
shocked the hearts even of his courtiers, he branded himself with his
own hands as a great criminal. The king and his court returned to the
palace before nightfall.

At last Henry was free. He had desired Jane Seymour, and everything had
been invented—adultery, incest—to break the bonds that united him to the
queen. The proofs of Anne's crimes failing, the ferocious acts of the
king were to supply their place. Could those who witnessed the cruelty
of the husband venture to doubt the guilt of the wife? Henry had become
inhuman that he might not appear faithless. Now that the object was
obtained, it only remained to profit by his crime. His impatience to
gratify his passions made him brave all propriety. The mournful death of
his queen; the Christian words that she had uttered, kissing as it were
the cruel hand that struck her—nothing softened that man's heart, and
the very next day he married the youthful maid of honor. It would have
been difficult to say in a more striking manner: 'This is why Anne
Boleyn is no more!' When we see side by side the blood-stained block on
which Anne had received her death-blow, and the brilliant altar before
which Henry and Jane were united, we all understand the story.[356] The
prince, at once voluptuous and cruel, liked to combine the most contrary
objects in the same picture—crime and festivities, marriage and death,
sensuality and hatred. He showed himself the most magnificent and most
civilized monarch of Europe; but also the rival of those barbarous kings
of savage hordes who take delight in cutting off the heads of those who
have been their favorites and even the objects of their most passionate
love. We must employ different standards in judging of the same person,
when we regard him as a private and as a public individual. The Tudor
prince, so guilty as a husband, father, and friend, did much good as a
ruler for England. Louis XIV., as well as Henry VIII., had some of the
characteristics of a great king; and his moral life was certainly not
better than that of his prototype in England. He had as many, and even
more mistresses than the predecessor of the Stuarts had wives; but the
only advantage which the French monarch had over the English one, is
that he knew how to get rid of them without cutting off their heads.

The death of Anne Boleyn caused a great sensation in Europe, as that of
Fisher and More had done before it. Her innocence, which Henry (it is
said) acknowledged on his death-bed,[357] was denied by some and
maintained by others; but all men of principle expressed a feeling of
horror when they heard of her punishment. The protestant princes and
divines of Germany had not a doubt that this cruel act was the pledge of
reconciliation offered to the pope by Henry VIII., and renounced the
alliance they were on the point of concluding with England. 'At last I
am free from that journey,' said Melanchthon, whom Anne Boleyn's death,
added to that of Sir Thomas More, had rendered even less desirous of
approaching the prince who had struck them. 'The queen,' he continued,
'accused, rather than convicted, of adultery, has suffered the penalty
of death, and that catastrophe has wrought great changes in our
plans.'[358]

Somewhat later the protestants ascribed Anne's death especially to the
pope: 'That blow came from Rome,' they cried; 'in Rome all these tricks
and plots are contrived. Even Petrarch had long since called that city

  Nido di tradimenti, in cui si cuova
  Quanto mal per lo mondo hoggi si spande.'[359]

In this I suspect there is a mistake. The plots of the Roman court
against Elizabeth have caused it to be accused of similar designs
against the mother of the great protestant queen. The friends of that
court in England were probably no strangers to the crime, but the great
criminal was Henry.

[313] 'The saying was that he was grievously racked.'—_Archéologie_,
xxiii. p. 164.

[314] 'No man will confess anything against her.'—Kingston's _Letters_,
p. 458.

[315] Kingston's _Letters_, p. 458.

[316] 'The vain hope of this changeable world.'—_Histoire d'Anne de
Boleyn_, by Crespin, p. 140.

[317] 'Avecque Dieu lors plus se fortifie.'—_Ibid._ p. 190.

[318] 'Speaking like a mistress to these lords.'

[319] A copy of this letter was found among the papers of Cromwell, at
that time the king's chief minister. 'It is universally known,' says Sir
Henry Ellis, 'as one of the finest compositions in the English
language.'—_Original Letters_, ii. p. 53.

[320] Burnet, _Records_, book iii. No. 49. The original is in the Cotton
Library.

[321] Froude.

[322] Baga de Secretis, pouch 8.

[323] Meteren, _Histoire des Pays-Bas_.

[324] Godwin's _Annals_, p. 139.—Queen Elizabeth raised his son to the
peerage, and four of his grandsons were among the greatest of England's
captains during the reign of Anne Boleyn's daughter.

[325] Burnet, _Addenda_, vol. i.

[326] _Ibid._ Baga de Secretis, pouch 8.

[327]

  'On vit la reine au jugement venir,
  Qui ne se veut que de Dieu souvenir;
  Ne faisant cas de chose qui la touche;
  Mais plus se tient constante qu'une souche,
  Qui ne craint grêle ou vent impétueux.'

_Histoire d'Anne Boleyn, royne d'Angleterre_, by Crespin, p. 200. The
last lines of this narrative are dated 2d of June, 1536, only seventeen
days after the queen's trial and sentence. It would appear that the
author, Crespin, lord of Milverne, was an eye-witness of the scene.

[328] 'Having an excellent quick wit and being a ready speaker, she
did so answer all objections.'—_Harleian MSS._

[329]

  'Peu parlait, mais qui la regardait,
  Coulpe de crime en elle n'attendait.'

_Histoire d'Anne Boleyn, royne d'Angleterre_, by Crespin, p. 201.

[330] The catholic historian, Lingard, makes this remark. Vol. iii.
ch. v.

[331] _Histoire d'Anne Boleyn, royne d'Angleterre_, by Crespin, p. 202.

[332] Meteren, _Histoire des Pays-Bas_, p. 21.

[333] Meteren, _Histoire des Pays-Bas_, p. 21.

[334] _Histoire d'Anne Boleyn, royne d'Angleterre_, by Crespin, pp. 196,
198, 199, 205.

[335] _Ibid._ pp. 205, 206.—To the sharp axe which severed it at a blow.

[336] 'This day at dinner the queen said that she should go to
Antwerp.'—Kingston, _Letters_, p. 460.

[337] 'I desire to know the king's pleasure for the preparation of the
scaffold.'—_Ibid._

[338] 'Inter horas ix et xi ante meridiem, in quodam basso
sacello.'—Wilkins, p. 803. It is an error of the copyist or of the
printer which makes Wilkins say that the act relates to Anne of Cleves
(Annam Clivensem).

[339] 'Ten days have elapsed since I went to the pope and narrated to
him the tidings.'—_Cotton MSS._ Vitellius, B. xiv. fol. 215, May 27th,
1536.

[340] Burnet, i. p. 185.

[341] Burnet, i. p. 185.

[342] Cotton MSS., Vitellius, B. xiv. p. 216; Turner, ii. p. 457.

[343] Cotton MSS., Vitellius, B. xiv. p. 216; Turner, ii. p. 457.

[344] 'Purposing to make her by martyrdom a saint in heaven.'—Strype,
p. 437.

[345] Kingston, _Letters_, p. 461.

[346] 'Oncque n'avoit été vue si belle.'

[347] _Histoire d'Anne Boleyn, royne d'Angleterre_, by Crespin.

[348] Anne Boleyn's last words are given by Hall, p. 819; Burnet, i.
p. 373; Turner, ii. p. 455; Wyatt, p. 214. See also the _Memorial_ of
Constantine who was present (_Archeologia_, vol. xxiii.), and the letter
of a Portuguese gentleman quoted by Lingard, vol. iii. ch. v.

[349] _Histoire d'Anne Boleyn, royne d'Angleterre_, by Crespin.

[350] _Ibid._

[351] _Histoire d'Anne Boleyn, royne d'Angleterre_, by Crespin.

[352] Wyatt, p. 449.

[353] _Histoire d'Anne Boleyn, royne d'Angleterre._

[354] _Histoire d'Anne Boleyn, royne d'Angleterre._ Spelman, Hall,
Burnet.

[355] Anderson, _Annals of the English Bible_, i. p. 476; Tytler, _Life
of King Henry VIII._, p. 383; Nott, &c.

[356] Hume, who is certainly an impartial judge, has described these
things with justice, and better than the most recent historians. See his
_History of England_, House of Tudor, ch. viii.; and also Burnet,
Turner, &c.

[357] Thevet: _Cosmographie Universelle_, p. 656. This author was a
contemporary Franciscan monk, and consequently an impartial witness.
Meteren, _Histoire des Pays-Bas_, p. 21; Burnet, iii. p. 120; Turner,
ii. p. 459.

[358] 'Posterior regina, magis accusata quam convicta adulterii, ultimo
supplicio affecta est; magna conciliorum mutatio secuta est.'—_Corpus
Reformatorum_, iii. p. 89.

[359] _Memoir of Anne Boleyn_, by G. Wyatt, p. 445.




 CHAPTER XI.
 REFORMING MOVEMENT AFTER ANNE'S DEATH; CATHOLIC
 AND SCHOLASTIC REACTION.
 (SUMMER, 1536.)


[Sidenote: POSITION OF THE TWO PARTIES.]

After queen Anne's death the two parties were agitated in opposite
directions. The friends of the Reformation wished to show that the
disgrace of that princess did not carry with it the disgrace of the
cause they had at heart, and consequently believed that they ought to
accelerate the Reform movement. The friends of Rome and its doctrines,
imagining, on their part, that the queen's death had put their affairs
in good train, thought they had but to redouble their activity to gain a
complete victory. The latter seemed indeed to have some reasons for
encouragement. If Catherine's death had reconciled Henry VIII. and the
emperor just when the latter was threatening England with invasion, the
death of Anne Boleyn appeared as if it would reconcile the king with
Paul III., who was ready to issue his terrible bull. Henry's wives
played a great part in his private history, but they had also a certain
importance in his relations with the powers of Europe, especially with
the pope. As soon as the pontiff had seen Charles V. and Francis I.
preparing for war, he had instructed his _son_ to hint to Da Casale,
that the court of Rome was very desirous of reviving the ancient
friendship which had united it to England.[360] These desires increased
rapidly.

On the 20th of May, when the news of the queen's prosecution arrived in
Rome, both pope and cardinals were transported with joy. The frightful
calumnies of which that princess was the victim, served the cause of the
papacy too well not to be accepted as truths, and all felt persuaded
that, if Anne fell from the throne, the acts done at London against the
Italian primacy would fall with her. When Da Casale informed the pope
that the queen had been sent to prison, Paul exclaimed with delight: 'I
always thought, when I saw Henry endowed with _so many virtues_, that
heaven would not forsake him. If he is willing to unite with me,' he
added, 'I shall have authority enough to enjoin the emperor and the king
of France to make peace; and the king of England, reconciled with the
Church, will command the powers of Europe.' At the same time Paul III.
confessed that he had made a mistake in raising Fisher to the
cardinalate, and wound up this pontifical effusion in the kindest of
terms. Da Casale, much delighted on his part, asked whether he was to
repeat these matters to the king. 'Tell him,' answered the pope, 'that
his majesty may, without hesitation, expect everything from me.'[361] Da
Casale, therefore, made his report to London, and intimated that, if
Henry made the least sign of reconciliation, the pope would immediately
send him a nuncio. Thus Paul left not a stone unturned to win over the
king of England. He extolled his virtues, promised him the foremost
place in Europe, flattered his vanity as an author, and did not fear—he
the infallible one—to acknowledge that he had made a mistake. Everybody
at the court of Rome felt convinced that England was about to return to
the bosom of the Church; cardinal Campeggi even sent his brother to
London to resume possession of the bishopric of Salisbury, of which he
had been deprived in 1534.[362] Up to the end of June, the pope and the
cardinals became kinder and more respectful to the English, and
entertained the most flattering expectations regarding the return of
England.

[Sidenote: THE TWO HENRYS.]

Would these expectations be realized? Henry VIII. was not one man, but
two: his domestic passions and his public acts formed two departments
entirely distinct. Guided as an individual by passion, he was, as a
king, sometimes led by just views. He believed that neither pope nor
foreign monarch had a right to exercise the smallest jurisdiction in
England. He was therefore decided—and this saved Great Britain—to
maintain the rupture with Rome. One circumstance might have taught him
that in all respects it was the best thing he could do.

Rome has two modes of bringing back princes under her yoke—flattery and
abuse. The pope had adopted the first: a person, at that time without
influence, Reginald Pole, an Englishman, and also a relative and
_protégé_ of Henry's, undertook the second. In 1535 he was in the north
of Italy; burning with love for the papacy and hatred for the king, his
benefactor, he wrote _ab irato_ a defence of the unity of the Church,
addressed to Henry VIII., and overflowing with violence. The wise and
pious Contarini, to whom he showed it, begged him to soften a tone that
might cause much harm. As Pole refused, Contarini entreated him at least
to submit his manuscript to the pope; but the young Englishman, fearing
that Paul would require him to suppress the untoward publication,
declined acceding to his friend's request. His object was, not to
convert the king, but to stir up the English against their lawful
prince, and induce them to fall prostrate again before the Roman
pontiff. The treatise, finished in the winter of 1536, before Anne's
trial, reached London the first week in June. Tonstall, bishop of
Durham, and Pole's friend, read the book, which contained a few truths
mixed up with great errors, and then communicated it to the king. Never
did haughty monarch receive so rude a lesson.

[Sidenote: POLE'S APPEAL TO THE KING.]

'Shall I write to you, O prince,' said the young Englishman, 'or shall I
not? Observing in you the certain symptoms of the most dangerous malady,
and assured as I am that I possess the remedies suitable to cure you,
how can I refrain from pronouncing the word which alone can preserve
your life? I love you, sire, as son never loved his father, and God
perhaps will make my voice to be like that of his own Son, _whose voice
even the dead hear_. O prince, you are dealing the most deadly blow
against the Church that it can possibly receive, you rob it of the chief
whom it possesses upon earth. Why should a king, who is the supreme head
of the State, occupy a similar place in the Church? If we may trust the
arguments of your doctors, we must conclude that Nero was the head of
the Church.[363] We should laugh, if the laughter were not to be
followed by tears. There is as great a distance between the
ecclesiastical and the civil power, as there is between heaven and
earth. There are three estates in human society: first, the people; then
the king, who is the son of the people; and lastly, the priest, who
being the _spouse of the people_ is consequently the _father of the
king_.[364] But you, in imitation of the pride of Lucifer, set yourself
above the vicar of Jesus Christ.

'What! you have rent the Church, as it was never before rent in that
island, you have plundered and cruelly tormented it, and you claim, in
virtue of such merits, to be called its supreme head. There are two
Churches: if you are at the head of one, it is not the Church of Christ;
if you are, it is like Satan, who is the prince of the world, which he
oppresses under his tyranny.... You reign, but after the fashion of the
Turks. A simple nod of your head has more power than ancient laws and
rights. Sword in hand you decide religious controversies. Is not that
thoroughly Turkish and barbarian?[365]

'O England! if you have not forgotten your ancient liberty, what
indignation ought to possess you, when you see your king plunder,
condemn, murder, squander all your wealth, and leave you nothing but
tears. Beware, for if you let your grievances be heard, you will be
afflicted with still deeper wounds. O my country! it is in your power to
change your great sorrow into greater joy. Neither Nero nor Domitian,
nor—I dare affirm—Luther himself, if he had been king of England,[366]
would have wished to avenge himself by putting to death such men as
Fisher and Sir Thomas More!

'What king has ever given more numerous signs of respect to the supreme
pontiff than that Francis I. who spoke of you, O Henry, in words
received with applause by the whole Christian world: "your friend,—till
the altar," _Amicus—usque ad aras_.—The emperor Charles has just subdued
the pirates; but is there any pirate that is worse than you? Have you
not plundered the wealth of the Church, thrown the bodies of the saints
into prison, and reduced men's souls to slavery? If I heard that the
emperor with all his fleet was sailing for Constantinople, I would fall
at his feet, and say—were it even in the straits of the Hellespont—"O
emperor, what are you thinking of? Do you not see that a much greater
danger than the Turks threatens the Christian republic? Change your
route. What would be the use of expelling the Turks from Europe, when
new Turks are hatched among us?" Certainly the English for slighter
causes have forced their kings to put off their crowns.'[367]

After the apostrophe addressed to Charles V., Reginald Pole returns to
Henry VIII., and imagining himself to be the prophet Elijah before king
Ahab, he says with great boldness: 'O king, the Lord hath commanded me
to curse you; but if you will patiently listen to me, he will return you
good for evil. Why delay to confess your sin? Do not say that you have
done everything according to the rules of Holy Scripture. Does not the
Church, which gives it authority, know what is to be received and what
rejected? You have forsaken the fountain of wisdom. Return to the
Church, O prince! and all that you have lost you shall regain with more
splendor and glory.

'But if anyone hears the sound of the trumpet and does not heed it, the
sword is drawn from the scabbard, the guilty is smitten, and his blood
is upon his own head.'

[Sidenote: ITS EFFECT ON HENRY.]

We have hardly given the flower of this long tirade, written in the
style of the 16th century, which, divided into four books, fills one
hundred and ninety-two folio pages. It reached England at the moment of
the condemnation of the innocent Anne, which Pole unconsciously
protested against as unjust, more unjust even than the sentences of
Fisher and More. Henry did not at first read his 'pupil's' philippic
through. He saw enough, however, to regard it as an insult, a divorce
which Italy had sent him. He ordered Pole to return to England; but the
latter remembered too well the fate of Fisher and Sir Thomas More to run
the risk. Bishop Tonstall, one of the enemies of the Reformation, wrote,
however, to Pole, that as Christ was the head of the Church, to separate
it from the pope was not to separate from its head. This refutation was
short but complete.

The king was resolved to maintain his independence of the pope. Some
have ascribed this determination to Pole's treatise, and others to the
influence of Jane Seymour. Both these circumstances may have had some
weight in Henry's mind; but the great cause, we repeat, is that he would
not suffer any master but himself in England. Gardiner replied to Pole
in a treatise which he entitled: _On True Obedience_,[368] to which
Bonner wrote the preface.

Paul III. was not the only one who descried the signal of triumph in
Anne's death: the princess Mary believed that she would now become
heiress-presumptive to the crown. Lady Kingston, having discharged Anne
Boleyn's Christian commission, Catherine's daughter, but slightly
affected by this touching conduct, took advantage of it for her own
interest, and charged that lady with a letter addressed to Cromwell, in
which she begged him to intercede for her with the king, so that the
rank which belonged to her should be restored. Henry consented to
receive his daughter into favor, but not without conditions: 'Madam,'
said Norfolk, who had been sent to her by the king, 'here are the
articles which require your signature.'

The daughter of the proud Catherine of Aragon was to acknowledge four
points: the supremacy of the king, the imposture of the pope, the incest
of her own mother, and her own illegitimacy. She refused, but as Norfolk
was not to be shaken, she signed the two first articles;[369] then
laying down the pen, she exclaimed: 'As for my own shame and my
mother's—never!' Cromwell threatened her, called her obstinate and
unnatural, and told her that her father would abandon her: the unhappy
princess signed everything. She was restored to favor, and from that
time received yearly three thousand pounds sterling; but she was
deceived in thinking that the misfortune of her little sister Elizabeth
would replace her on the steps of the throne.

[Sidenote: THANKS OF PARLIAMENT.]

Parliament met on the 8th of June, when the chancellor announced to them
that the king, notwithstanding his mishaps in matrimony, _had yielded to
the humble solicitations of the nobility_, and formed a new union. The
two houses ratified the accomplished facts. No man desired to stir the
ashes from which sparks might issue and kindle a great conflagration. At
no price would they compromise the most exalted persons in the kingdom,
and especially the king. All the allegations, even the most absurd, were
admitted: Parliament wanted to have done with the matter. It even went
further: the king was thanked for the _most excellent goodness_ which
had induced him to marry a lady whose brilliant youth, remarkable
beauty, and purity of blood were the sure pledges of the happy issue
which a marriage with her could not fail to produce; and his most
respectful subjects determined to bury the faults of their prince under
flowers, compared him for beauty to Absalom, for strength to Samson, and
for wisdom to Solomon. Parliament added, that as the daughters of
Catherine and Anne were both illegitimate, the succession had devolved
upon the children of Jane Seymour. As, however, it was possible that she
might not have any issue, parliament granted him the privilege of naming
his successor in his will: an enormous prerogative, conferred upon the
most capricious of monarchs. Those who refused to take the oath required
by the statute were to be declared guilty of high treason.

Parliament having thus arranged the king's business, set about the
business of the country. 'My lords,' said ministers on the 4th of July
to the upper house, 'the bishop of Rome, whom some persons call _pope_,
wishing to have the means of satisfying his love of luxury and tyranny,
has obscured the Word of God, excluded Jesus Christ from the soul,
banished princes from their kingdoms, monopolized the mind, body, and
goods of all Christians, and, in particular, extorted great sums of
money from England by his dreams and superstitions.' Parliament decided
that the penalties of _præmunire_ should be inflicted on everybody who
recognized the authority of the Roman pontiff, and that every student,
ecclesiastic, and civil functionary should be bound to renounce the pope
in an oath made in the name of God and all his saints.[370]

This bill was the cause of great joy in England; the protestant spirit
was stirred; there was a great outburst of sarcasms, and one could see
that the citizens of the capital naturally were not friends to the
papacy. Man is inclined to laugh at what he has respected when he finds
that he has been deceived, and then readily classes among human follies
what he had once taken for the wisdom of Heaven. A contest of epigrams
was begun in London, similar to that which had so often taken place at
Rome between Pasquin and Marforio: perhaps, however, the jokes were
occasionally a little heavy. 'Do you see the stole round the priest's
neck?' said one wit; 'it is nothing else but the bishop of Rome's
rope.'[371]—'Matins, masses, and evensong are nothing but a roaring,
howling, whistling, murmuring, tomring, and juggling.'[372]—'It is as
lawful to christen a child in a tub of water at home or in a ditch by
the way, as in a font-stone in the church.'—Gradually this jesting
spirit made its way to the lower classes of society.—'Holy water is very
useful,' said one who haunted the London taverns; 'for as it is already
salted, you have only to put an onion in it to make sauce for a gibbet
of mutton.'—'What is that you say,' replied some blacksmith, 'it is a
very good medicine for a horse with a galled back.'[373] But while
frivolity and a desire to show one's wit, however coarse it might be,
gave birth to silly jests merely provocative of laughter, the love of
truth inspired the evangelical Christians with serious words which
irritated the priests more than the raillery of the jesters. 'The
Church,' they said, 'is not the clergy, the Church is the congregation
of good men only. All ceremonies accustomed in the Church and not
clearly expressed in Scripture ought to be done away. When the sinner is
converted, all the sins over which he sheds tears are remitted freely by
the Father who is in heaven.'[374]

After the words of the profane and of the pious came the words of the
priests. A convocation of the clergy was summoned to meet at St. Paul's.
The bishops came and took their places, and anyone might count the votes
which Rome and the Reformation had on the episcopal bench. For the
latter there were: archbishop Cranmer; Goodrich, bishop of Ely; Shaxton,
bishop of Salisbury; Fox, bishop of Hereford; Latimer, bishop of
Worcester; Hilsey, bishop of Rochester; Barlow, bishop of St. David's;
Warton, bishop of St. Asaph; and Sampson, bishop of Chichester—nine
votes in all. For Rome there were: Lee, archbishop of York; Stokesley,
bishop of London; Tonstall, bishop of Durham; Longland, bishop of
Lincoln; Vesey, bishop of Exeter; Clerk, bishop of Bath; Lee, bishop of
Lichfield; Salcot, bishop of Bangor; and Rugge, bishop of Norwich—nine
against nine. If Gardiner had not been in France there would have been a
majority against the Reformation. Forty priors and mitred abbots,
members of the upper house, seemed to assure victory to the partisan of
tradition. The clergy, who assembled under their respective banners,
were divided not by shades but by glaring colors, and people asked, as
they looked on this chequered group, which of the colors would carry the
day. Cranmer had taken precautions that they should not leave the church
without being enlightened on that point.

[Sidenote: LATIMER'S SERMON.]

The bishop of London having sung the mass of the Holy Ghost, Latimer,
who had been selected by the primate to edify the assembly, went up into
the pulpit. Being a man of bold and independent character, and
penetrating, practical mind, which could discover and point out every
subterfuge, he wanted a Reform more complete even than Cranmer desired.
He took for his text the parable of the unjust steward.[375] 'Dear
brethren,' he said, 'you have come here to-day to hear of great and
weighty matters. Ye look, I am assured, to hear of me such things as
shall be meet for this assembly.' Then having introduced his subject,
Latimer continued: 'A faithful steward coineth no new money, but taketh
it ready coined of the good man of the house. Now, what crowds of our
bishops, abbots, prelates, and curates, despising the money of the Lord
as copper and not current, teach that now redemption purchased by money
and devised by men is of efficacy, and not redemption purchased by
Christ.'

The whole of Latimer's sermon was in this strain. He did not stop here;
in the afternoon he preached again. 'You know the proverb,' he said—'"An
evil crow, an evil egg."[376] The devil has begotten the world, and the
world in its turn has many children. There is my Lady Pride, Dame
Gluttony, Mistress Avarice, Lady Lechery, and others, that now hard and
scant ye may find any corner, any kind of life, where many of his
children be not. In court, in cowls, in cloisters, yea, where shall ye
not find them? Howbeit, they that be secular are not children of the
world, nor they that are called spiritual, of the clergy. No, no; as ye
find among the laity many children of light, so among the clergy ye
shall find many children of the world. They do execrate and detest the
world (being nevertheless their father) in words and outward signs; but
in heart and works they coll and kiss him.[377] They show themselves to
be as sober as Curius the Roman was,[378] and live every day as if all
their life were a shroving time (a carnival). I see many such among the
bishops, abbots, priors, archdeacons, deans, and others of that sort,
who are met together in this convocation, to take into consideration all
that concerns the glory of Christ and the wealth of the people of
England. The world has sent us some of its whelps.[379] What have you
been doing these seven years and more? Show us what the English have
gained by your long and great assemblies. Have they become even a hair's
breadth better? In God's name, what have you done?—so great fathers, so
many, so long a season, so oft assembled together—what have you done?
Two things: the one, that you have burnt a dead man (William Tracy); the
other, that ye went about to burn one being alive.[380] Ye have oft sat
in consultation, but what have ye done? Ye have had many things in
deliberation, but what one is put forth whereby either Christ is more
glorified, or else Christ's people made more holy? I appeal to your own
conscience.'

Here Latimer began, as Luther had done in his _Appeal to the German
Nobility_, to pass in review the abuses and errors of the clergy—the
Court of Arches, the episcopal consistories, saints' days, images, vows,
pilgrimages, certain vigils which he called 'bacchanalia,' marriage,
baptism, the mass, and relics.

After this severe catalogue, the bishop exclaimed: 'Let us go home even
as good as we came hither, right-begotten children of the world. Let us
beat our fellows, let us eat and drink with drunkards. But God will
come, God will come, yea and he will not tarry. He will come upon such a
day as we nothing look for him. He will come and cut us in pieces, and
let be the end of our tragedy.[381] These be the delicate dishes
prepared for the world's well-beloved children. These be the wafers and
junkets provided for worldly prelates—wailing and gnashing of teeth.

'If you will not die eternally, live not worldly. Preach truly the Word
of God. Feed ye tenderly the flock of Christ. Love the light. Walk in
the light, and so be the children of light while you are in the world,
that you may shine in the world to come bright as the sun, with the
Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen.'

An action full of simplicity and warmth had accompanied the firm and
courageous words of the Reformer. The reverend members of convocation
had found their man, and his sermon appeared to them bitterer than
wormwood. They dared not, however, show their anger, for behind Latimer
was Cranmer, and they feared lest they should find the king behind
Cranmer.

Ere long the clergy received another mortification which they dared not
complain of. A rumor got abroad that Cromwell would be the
representative of Henry VIII. in the assembly. 'What!' they cried out,
'a layman, a man who has never taken a degree in any university!' But
what was the astonishment of the prelates, when they saw not Cromwell
enter, but his secretary, Dr. Petre, one of the convent visitors, whom
the primate seated by his side—a delegate of a delegate! On the 21st of
June, Cromwell came down, and took his seat above all the prelates. The
lay element took, with a bold step, a position from which it had been so
long banished.

[Sidenote: THE MALA DOGMATA DENOUNCED.]

It was to be expected that the champions of the middle ages would not
submit to such affronts, and particularly to such a terrible fire as
Latimer's, without unmasking their batteries in return, and striving to
dismantle those of the enemy. They saw that they could not maintain the
supremacy of the pope and attack that of the king; but they knew that
Henry adhered to transubstantiation and other superstitious doctrines of
the dark ages; and accordingly they determined to attack by this breach,
not only Latimer, but all the supporters of the Reformation.
Roman-catholicism did not intend to perish without a struggle; it
resolved—in order that it might hold its ground in England—to make a
vigorous onslaught. The lower house having chosen for its prolocutor one
Richard Gwent, archdeacon of bishop Stokesley and a zealous
ultramontanist, the cabal set to work, and the words of Wycliff, of the
Lollards, of the Reformers, and even of the jesting citizens having been
carefully recorded, Gwent proposed that the lower house should lay
before the upper house sixty-seven evil doctrines (_mala dogmata_).
Nothing was forgotten, not even _the horse with the galled back_. To no
purpose were they reminded that what was blamable in this catalogue were
only 'the indiscreet expressions of illiterate persons;' and that the
rudeness of their imagination alone had caused them to utter these
pointed sarcasms. In vain were they reminded that, even in horse races,
the riders to be sure of reaching their goal pass beyond it. The
enumeration of the _mala dogmata_ was carried, without omitting a single
article.

On the 23d of June, the prolocutor appeared with his long list before
the upper house of convocation. 'There are certain errors,' he said,
'which cause disturbance in the kingdom,' and then he read the
sixty-seven _mala dogmata_. 'They affirm,' he continued, 'that no
doctrine must be believed unless it be proved by Holy Scripture; that
Christ, having shed his blood, has fully redeemed us, so that now we
have only to say, O God, I entreat Thy Majesty to blot out my
iniquity.[382] They say that the sacrifice of the mass is nothing but a
piece of bread; that auricular confession was invented by the priests to
learn the secrets of the heart, and to put money in their purse; that
purgatory is a cheat; that what is usually called the Church is merely
the old synagogue, and that the true Church is the assembly of the just;
that prayer is just as effectual in the open air as in a temple; that
priests may marry. And these heresies are not only preached, but are
printed in books stamped _cum privilegio_, with privilege, and the
ignorant imagine that those words indicate the king's approbation.'[383]

The two armies stood face to face, and the scholastic party had no
sooner read their lengthy manifesto than the combat began. 'Oh, what
tugging was here between these opposite sides,' says honest Fuller.[384]
They separated without coming to any decision. Men began to discuss
which side they should take: 'Neither one nor the other,' said those who
fancied themselves the cleverest. 'When two stout and sturdy travellers
meet together and both desire the way, yet neither is willing to fight
for it, in their passage they so shove and shoulder one another, that
they divide the way between them, and yet neither gets the same.[385]
The two parties in convocation ought to do the same: there ought to be
neither conquerors nor conquered.' Thus the Church, _the pillar of
truth_, was required to admit both black and white—to say Yes and No. 'A
medley religion,' exclaims an historian; 'to salve (if not the
consciences) at least the credits of both sides.'[386]

[Sidenote: ALESIUS IN CONVOCATION.]

Cranmer and Cromwell determined to use the opportunity to make the
balance incline to the evangelical side. They went down to convocation.
While passing along the street Cromwell noticed a stranger—one Alesius,
a Scotchman, who had been compelled to seek refuge in Germany for having
professed the pure Gospel, and there he had formed a close intimacy with
Melanchthon. Cranmer, as well as Cromwell, desirous of having such an
evangelical man in England—one who was in perfect harmony with the
Protestants of Germany, and whose native tongue was English—had invited
him over to London.[387] Melanchthon had given him a letter for the
king, along with which he sent a copy of his commentary on the Epistle
to the Romans. Henry was so charmed with the Scotchman, that he gave him
the title of 'King's Scholar.' Alesius was living at the archbishop's
palace in Lambeth. Cromwell, observing him so seasonably, called him and
invited him to accompany them to Westminster. He thought that a man of
such power might be useful to him; and it is even possible that the
meeting had been prearranged. Together the Englishman and the Scotchman
entered the chamber in which the bishops were sitting round a table,
with a number of priests standing behind them. When the vicar-general
and Alesius, who was unknown to most of them, appeared, they all rose
and bowed to the king's representative. Cromwell returned the
salutation, and, after seating the exile in the highest place opposite
the two archbishops, he addressed them as follows: 'His majesty will not
rest until, in harmony with convocation and parliament, he has put an
end to the controversies which have taken place, not only in this
kingdom but in every country. Discuss these questions, therefore, with
charity, without brawling or scolding, and decide all things by the Word
of God.[388] Establish the divine and perfect truth as it is found in
Scripture.'

[Sidenote: GOD'S WORD THE SOURCE OF LIFE.]

Cromwell wanted the submission of _all_ to the divine revelations: the
traditional party answered him by putting forward human doctrines and
human authorities. Stokesley, bishop of London, endeavored to prove, by
certain glosses and passages, that there were seven sacraments: the
archbishop of York and others supported him by their sophistry and their
shouts. 'Such disputes about words, and such cries,' said Cranmer, 'are
unbecoming serious men. Let us seek Christ's glory, the peace of the
Church, and the means by which sins are forgiven. Let us inquire how we
may bring consolation to uneasy souls; how we may give the assurance of
God's love to consciences troubled by the remembrance of their sins. Let
us acknowledge that it is not the outward use of the sacraments that
justifies a man, and that our justification proceeds solely from faith
in the Saviour.'[389] The prelate spoke admirably and in accordance with
Scripture: it was necessary to back up this noble confession. Cromwell,
who kept his Scotchman in reserve, now introduced him to the clergy, as
the 'king's scholar,' and asked him what he thought of the discussion.
Alesius, speaking in the assembly of bishops, showed that there were
only _two_ sacraments—Baptism and the Lord's Supper, and that no
ceremony ought to be put in the same rank with them. The bishop of
London chafed with anger in his seat. Shall a mere Scotchman, driven
from his country and entertained by German protestants, presume to teach
the prelates of England? He shouted out indignantly, 'All that is
false!' Alesius declared himself ready to prove what he had said out of
Scripture and the old fathers. Then Fox, bishop of Hereford, who had
just returned from Wittemberg, whither he had been sent by the king, and
where he had been enlightened by conversing with Luther and Melanchthon,
rose up and uttered these noble sentiments: 'Christ hath so lightened
the world at this time,' he said, 'that the light of the Gospel hath put
to flight all misty darkness; and the world will no longer endure to be
led astray by all that fantastic rubbish with which the priests formerly
filled their imaginations and their sermons.' This was pointed at bishop
Stokesley and his friends: 'It is vain to resist the Lord; his hand
drives away the clouds. The laity know the Holy Scriptures now better
than many of us.[390] The Germans have made the text of the Bible so
easy, by the Hebrew and Greek tongue, that even women and children
wonder at the blindness and falsehood that hath been hitherto. Consider
that you make not yourselves to be laughed to scorn of all the world. If
you resist the voice of God, you will give cause for belief that there
is not one spark of learning or godliness in you. All things consist not
in painted eloquence and strength of authority. For truth is of so great
power, strength, and efficacy, that it can neither be defended with
words nor be overcome with any strength; but after she hath hidden
herself long, at length she pusheth up her head and appeareth.' Such was
the eloquent and Christian language with which even bishops endeavored
to bring about the triumph of that English Reformation which some have
been pleased to represent as 'the product of an amorous caprice.'[391]
Moved by such Christian remarks, Alesius exclaimed, 'Yes, it is the Word
of God that bringeth life; the Word of God is the very substance and
body of the Sacrament. It makes us certain and sure of the will of God
to save our souls: the outward ceremony is but a token of that lively
inflammation which we receive through faith in the Word and promise of
the Lord.' At these words the bishop of London could not contain
himself. 'The Word of God,' he cried; 'Yes, granted! But you are far
deceived if you think there is no _other_ Word of God but that which
every souter and cobbler may read in his mother-tongue.' Stokesley
believed in another Word of God besides the Bible; he thought, as the
council of Trent did a little later, 'That we must receive _with similar
respect and equal piety the Holy Scriptures and_ TRADITION.'[392] As it
was noon, Cromwell broke up the meeting.

The debate had been sharp. The sacerdotal, sacramental, ritualist party
had been beaten; the evangelicals desired to secure their victory.

Alesius, after his return to Lambeth, began to compose a treatise;
Stokesley, on the other hand, prepared to get up a conspiracy against
Alesius. Next day the bishops, who arrived first at Westminster, entered
into conversation about the last sitting, and were very indignant that a
stranger, a Scotchman, should have been allowed to sit and speak among
them. Stokesley called upon Cranmer to resist such an irregularity. The
archbishop, who was always rather weak, consented, and Cromwell entering
shortly after with his protégé, an archdeacon went up to the latter and
told him that his presence was disagreeable to the bishops. 'It is
better to give way,' said Cromwell to Alesius; 'I do not want to expose
you to the hatred of the prelates. When once they take a dislike to a
man, they never rest until they have got him out of the way. They have
already put to death many Christians for whom the king felt great
esteem.' Alesius withdrew and the debate opened. 'Are there seven
sacraments or only two?' was the question. It was impossible to come to
an understanding.

Convocation, an old clerical body, in which were assembled the most
resolute partisans of the abuses, superstitions, and doctrines of the
middle ages, was the real stronghold of Rome in England. To undertake to
introduce the light and life of the Gospel into it was a rash and
impracticable enterprise. The divine Head of the Church himself has
declared that '_no man putteth new cloth to an old garment, neither do
men put new wine into old bottles_.' There was but one thing to be done.
Suppress the assembly and form a new one, composed of members and
ministers of the Church, who acknowledge no other foundation, no other
rule, than the Word of God. '_New wine must be put into new bottles._'
Such a step as this would have helped powerfully to reform the Church of
England really and completely. But it was not taken.

[360] 'Pristina rediret amicitia.'—Da Casale to Cromwell. _State
Papers_, vii. p. 643.

[361] 'Proculdubio vestra Majestas omnia de ipso sibi polliceri possit.'
This letter of the 27th of May, which is among the Cotton MSS.
(Vitellius, B. xiv.), has suffered by fire, but is given almost entire
by Turner in a note to the second volume of his History, pp. 483-5.

[362] Letter from Campeggi to the duke of Suffolk, dated 5th of June,
1536.—_State Papers_, vii. p. 657.

[363] 'Quid aliud quam Neronem fuisse caput ecclesiæ.'—R. Poli, _Pro
Ecclesiasticæ Unitatis defensione_. Libri quatuor, 1555, without place,
fol. 7, _verso_.

[364] 'Sacerdos ergo tanquam vir populi erga regem patris personam
gerit.'—_Ibid._ fol. 17, _verso_ 18-20.

[365] 'Atque hoc Turcicum plane et barbarum.'—R. Polus, fol. 71,
_verso_. Pole forgot that this reasoning applied still better to the
popes than to Henry VIII.

[366] 'Audeo autem jurare ne Lutherum quidem ipsum, si rex Angliæ
fuisset, &c.'—R. Polus, fol. 75.

[367] 'Corona se et sceptro abdicare coegerunt.'—_Ibid._ fol. 79,
_verso_.

[368] _De Vera Obedientia._

[369] _State Papers_, i. p. 459.

[370] 'So help me God, all saints, and the Holy Evangelist.'—Collyers,
ii. p. 119.

[371] Wilkins, _Concilia_, iii. p. 805.

[372] _Ibid._ p. 806.

[373] _Ibid._ p. 807.

[374] _Ibid._ p. 806.

[375] St. Luke xi. 1-8.

[376] Latimer's _Sermons_, p. 42.

[377] Wilkins, _Concilia_, p. 43.

[378] Curius Dentatus.—'Incomptis Curium capillis.' Horace.

[379] Latimer's _Sermons_, p. 44.

[380] Referring to himself.

[381] Latimer's _Sermons_, p. 57.

[382] 'Deprecor Majestatem tuam, ut tu Deus deleas iniquitatem
meam.'—Wilkins, _Concilia_, p. 806.

[383] The list of _mala dogmata_ is given by Collier.

[384] Fuller, p. 213.

[385] _Ibid._

[386] _Ibid._

[387] Preface to Alesius's treatise _On the Authority of the Word of
God_. See also Anderson, _Annals of the Bible_, i. p. 451.

In the history of the Reformation in Scotland we shall sketch the most
remarkable traits of the life of Alesius.

[388] 'Ye will conclude all things by the Word of God, without all
brawling or scolding.'—Anderson, _Annals of the Bible_, i. p. 499.

[389] 'Whether the outward worth of them doth justify man, or whether we
receive our justification through faith.'—Anderson, _Annals of the
Bible_, i. p. 499. Todd's _Life of Cranmer_, i. p. 163.

[390] Burnet, i. p. 205. Anderson, _Annals of the Bible_, i. p. 502.

[391] Audin, _Histoire de Henri VIII._ Preface.

[392] Council of Trent, 4th sitting, 8th of April, 1546.




 CHAPTER XII.
 A MOVEMENT OF SCHOLASTIC CATHOLICISM INAUGURATED BY
 THE KING. EVANGELICAL REACTION.
 (AUTUMN, 1536.)


After Anne Boleyn's death, the men of the Reformation had taken the
initiative, and Cranmer, Cromwell, Latimer, and Alesius seemed on the
point of winning the prize of the contest. The intervention of a greater
personage was about to turn the medal.

[Sidenote: HENRY PLAYS THE POPE.]

Anne's disgrace and the wedding with Jane Seymour had occupied the king
with far other matters than theology. Cranmer had the field free to
advance the Reformation. This was not what Henry meant; and as soon as
he noticed it, he roused himself, as if from slumber, and hastened to
put things in order. Though rejecting the authority of the pope, he
remained faithful to his doctrines. He proceeded to act in his character
as head of the Church, and resolved to fulminate a bull, as the pontiffs
had done. Reginald Pole, in the book which he had addressed to him,
observed that in matters touching the pope, we must not regard either
his character or his life, but only his authority; and that the lapses
of a pope in morals detract nothing from his infallibility in faith.
Henry understood this distinction very clearly, and showed himself a
pope in every way. He did not believe that there was any incompatibility
between the right he claimed of taking a new wife whenever he pleased,
by means of divorce or the scaffold, and that of declaring the oracles
of God on contrition, justification, and ecclesiastical rites and
ceremonies. The rupture of the negotiations with the protestants gave
him more liberty, and even caused him a little vexation. His chagrin was
not unmingled with anger, and he was not grieved to show those obstinate
Germans what they gained by not accepting him. In this respect Henry was
like a woman who, annoyed at being rejected by the man she prefers,
gives her hand to his rival in bravado. He returned, therefore, to his
theological labors. The doctors of the scholastic party spared him the
pains of drawing up for himself the required articles; but he revised
them and was elated at the importance of his work. 'We have in our own
person taken great pain, study, labors, and travails,' he said, 'over
certain articles which will establish concord in our Church.'[393]
Cromwell, always submissive to his master and well knowing the cost of
resistance, laid this royal labor before the upper house of Convocation.
In religious matters Henry had never done anything so important. The
doctrine of the authority of the prince over the dogmas of the Church
now became a _fact_. The king's dogmatic paper, entitled _Articles about
religion set out by the Convocation, and published by the King's
authority_, bears a strong resemblance to the _Exposition_ and the _Type
of Faith_, published in the seventh century, during the monothelite
controversy, by the emperors of Constantinople—Heraclius and
Constant II. That prince, who in a political sense gave England a new
impulse, sought his models as an ecclesiastical ruler, in the Lower
Empire. Everybody was eager to know what doctrines the new head of the
Church was going to proclaim. The partisans of Rome were doubtless quite
as much surprised as the Reformers, but their astonishment was that of
joy; the surprise of the evangelicals was that of fear. The
vicar-general read the royal oracles aloud: 'All the words contained in
the whole canon of the Bible.' he said, 'and in the three creeds—the
Apostles', the Nicene, and the Athanasian—_according to the
interpretation which the holy approved doctors in the Church do
defend_,[394] shall be received and observed as the infallible words of
God, so that whosoever rejects them is not a member of Christ but a
member of the devil, and eternally damned.'

[Sidenote: ARTICLES OF RELIGION.]

That was the Romish doctrine, and Bossuet, in his examination of the
royal document, appears much satisfied with the article.[395]

'The sacrament of baptism should be administered to infants, in order
that they may receive the Holy Ghost and be purified of sin by its
secret virtue and operation. If a man falls after baptism the sacrament
of penance is necessary to his salvation; he must go to confession, ask
absolution at the priest's hands, and look upon the words uttered by the
confessor as the _voice of God_ speaking out of heaven.'[396]

——'That is the whole substance of the catholic doctrine,' the partisans
of Rome might urge.[397]

'Under the form of the bread and the wine are verily, substantially, and
really contained the body and very blood of the Saviour which was born
of the Virgin.'

——'That indicates most precisely the real presence of the body,' say the
Romish doctors.[398]

'The merits of the Saviour's passion are the only and worthy causes of
our justification; but, before giving it to us, God requires of us
inward contrition, perfect faith, hope, and charity, and all the other
spiritual motions which must necessarily concur in the remission of our
sins.'

——The council of Trent declared the same doctrine not long after.[399]

'Images ought to be preserved in the churches. Only let those who kneel
before them and adore them know that such honor is not paid to the
images, but to God.'

——'To use such language,' Roman-catholics have said, 'is to approve of
image-worship to the extreme.'[400]

'It is praiseworthy,' continued Cromwell, 'to address prayers to our
Blessed Lady, to St. John the Baptist, to each of the apostles, or to
any other saint, in order that they may pray for us and with us; but
without believing there is more mercy in them than in Christ.'

——'If the king looks upon this as a kind of Reformation,' said a Romish
doctor, 'he is only making game of the world; for no catholic addresses
the saints except to have their prayers.'[401]

'As for the ceremonies, such as sprinkling with holy water, distributing
the consecrated bread, prostration before the cross and kissing it,
exorcisms, &c., these rites and others equally praiseworthy ought to be
maintained as putting us in remembrance of spiritual things.'

——'That is precisely our idea,' said the partisans of Romish
tradition.[402]

'Finally, as to purgatory, the people shall be taught that Christians
ought to pray for the souls of the dead, and give alms, in order that
others may pray for them, so that their souls may be relieved of some
part of their pain.'[403]

——'All that we teach is here approved of,' said the great opponent of
protestantism.[404]

Such was the religion which the prince, whom some writers call the
father of the Reformation, desired to establish in England. If England
became protestant, it was certainly in spite of him.

[Sidenote: THE ARTICLES ACCEPTED.]

A long debate ensued in convocation and elsewhere. The decided
evangelicals could see nothing in these articles but an abandonment of
Scripture, a 'political daubing,' in which the object was only to please
certain persons and to attain certain ends. The men of the moderate
party said, on the other hand, 'Ought we not to rejoice that the
Scriptures and ancient creeds are re-established as rules of faith,
without considering the pope?' But above these opposite opinions rose
the terrible voice of the king: _Sic volo, sic jubeo_: Such is my
pleasure, such are my orders. If the primate and his friends resisted,
they would be set aside and the Reformation lost.

It does not appear that Cranmer had any share in drawing up these
articles, but he signed them. It has been said, to excuse him, that
neither he, nor many of his colleagues, had at that time a distinct
knowledge of such matters, and that they intended to make amendments in
the articles; but these allegations are insufficient. Two facts alone
explain the concessions of this pious man: the king's despotic will and
the archbishop's characteristic weakness. He always bent his head; but,
we must also acknowledge, it was in order to raise it again. Archbishop
Lee, sixteen bishops, forty abbots or priors, and fifty archdeacons or
proctors signed after Cromwell and the primate. The articles passed
through Convocation, because—like Anne's condemnation—_it was the king's
will_. Nothing can better explain the concessions of Cranmer, Cromwell,
and others in the case of Anne Boleyn, than their support of these
articles, which were precisely the opposite of the Scriptural doctrine
whose triumph they had at heart. In both cases they had yielded
slavishly to those magic words: _Le roi le veut_, The king wills it.
Those four words were sufficient: that man was _loyal_ who sacrificed
his own will to the sovereign. It was only by degrees that the free
principles of protestantism were to penetrate among the people, and give
England liberty along with order. Still that excuse is not sufficient:
Cranmer would have left a more glorious name if he had suffered
martyrdom under Henry VIII., and not waited for the reign of Mary.

When the king's articles were known, discontent broke out in the
opposite parties. 'Be silent, you contentious preachers and you factious
schoolmen,' said the politicians: 'you would sooner disturb the peace of
the world, than relinquish or retract one particle!'[405] The articles
were sent all over England, with orders that everyone should conform to
them at his peril.

Cranmer did not look upon the game as lost. To bend before the blast,
and then rise up again and guide the Reform to a good end, was his
system. He first strove to prevent the evil by suggesting measures
calculated to remedy it. Convocation resolved that a petition should be
addressed to the king, praying him to permit his lay subjects to read
the Bible in _English_, and to order a new translation of it to be
made;[406] moreover, a great number of feast-days were abolished as
favoring 'sloth, idleness, thieves, excesses, vagabonds, and
riots;'[407] and finally, on the last day of the session (20th of July),
Convocation declared—to show clearly that there was no question of
returning to popery—that there was nothing more pernicious than a
general council;[408] and that, consequently, they must decline to
attend that which the pope intended to hold in the city of Mantua.
Thereupon parliament and Convocation were dissolved, and the king did
without them for three years.

[Sidenote: CROMWELL'S INSTRUCTIONS.]

Henry VIII. was satisfied with his minister. Cromwell was created Lord
Privy-Seal, the 2d of July, 1536, baron, and a few days later vicegerent
in ecclesiastical matters (_in rebus ecclesiasticis_). Wishing to tone
down what savored too much of the schools in the king's articles, he
circulated among all the priests some instructions which were passably
evangelical. 'I enjoin you,' he said, 'to make your parishioners
understand that they do rather apply themselves to the keeping of God's
commandments and fulfilling of his works of charity, and providing for
their families, than if they went about to pilgrimages.[409] Advise
parents and masters to teach their children and their servants the
Lord's Prayer, the Apostles' Creed, and the Ten Commandments, in their
mother-tongue.' He even undertook to reform the clergy. 'Deans, parsons,
vicars, curates, and priests,' he said, 'are forbidden to haunt taverns,
to drink or brawl after dinner or supper, to play at cards day or night.
If they have any leisure, they should read the Scriptures, or occupy
themselves with some honest exercise.'

Cranmer and Cromwell went farther than this. They wished to circulate
the Holy Scriptures. Tyndale's version was, in Cromwell's opinion, too
far compromised to be officially circulated; he had, therefore,
patronized another translation. Coverdale, who was born in 1488, at a
place of that name in Yorkshire, had undertaken (as we have seen) to
translate the Bible, and had applied to Cromwell to procure him the
necessary books.[410] Tyndale was more independent, a man of firmer and
bolder character than Coverdale. He did not seek the aid of men, and
finished his work (so to say) alone with God. Coverdale, pious no doubt
like his rival, felt the need of being supported, and said, in his
letter to Cromwell, that he implored his help, 'prostrate on the knees
of his heart.'

Coverdale knew Greek and Hebrew. He began his task in 1530; on the 4th
of October, 1535, the book appeared, probably at Zurich, under the
title: BIBLIA, _the Bible, that is to say, the Holy Scriptures of the
Old and New Testament_; and reached England in the early part of 1536.
At the beginning of the volume was a dedication to Henry VIII., which
ended by imploring the divine blessing on the king and on his 'dearest,
just wife, and most virtuous princess, queen Anne.' Cromwell was to
present this translation to the king, and circulate it throughout the
country; but this _dearest wife_, this _most virtuous princess_, had
just been accused by Henry, dragged before the tribunals, and beheaded.
It was impossible to distribute a single copy of this version without
arousing the monarch's anger. Those who desired that the ship which had
come so far should not be wrecked in the harbor, had recourse to several
expedients. The decapitated queen's name was _Anne_, that of the
queen-regnant was _Jeanne_: there was a resemblance between them. Some
copies corrected with a pen have instead of _queen Anne_,—_queen JAne_;
in others the name of the queen is simply scratched out.[411] These
expedients were not sufficient: a new title-page was printed and dated
1536, the current year. But it was all of no use: it was impossible to
obtain the royal sanction.

Still, if Coverdale's Bible was not admitted into England, the
Reformation, taught by pious ministers, was spreading more and more. The
priests murmured in vain: 'Not long ago,' they said, 'the Lollards were
put to death for reading the Gospel in English, and now we are ordered
to teach it in that language. We are robbed of our privileges, and our
labors are increased.'

[Sidenote: EVANGELICAL REACTION.]

The king had proclaimed and laid down his ten articles to little
purpose: faith gave pious ministers and Christians a courage which the
great ones of the earth did not possess. John Gale, pastor of Twaite, in
Suffolk, a quick, decided, but rather imprudent man, attacked the royal
articles from his pulpit. But he did not stop there. His church was
ornamented with images of the Virgin and Saints, before which the devout
used to stick up tapers. 'Austin,' said he one day to a parishioner,
'follow me;' and the two men, with great exertions, took away the iron
rods on which the worshippers used to set their tapers, and turned the
images to the wall.—'Listen,' said Dr. Barret to his parishioners, 'the
lifting up of the host betokens simply that the Father has sent his Son
to suffer death for man, and the lifting up of the chalice, that _the
Son has shed his blood for our salvation_.'—'Christ,' said Bale, prior
of Dorchester, 'does not dwell in churches of stone, but in heaven above
and in the hearts of men on earth.'[412]—The minister of Hothfield
declared that: 'Our Lady is not the queen of heaven, and has no more
power than another woman.' 'Pull him out of the pulpit,' said the
exasperated bailiff to the vicar. 'I dare not,' answered the latter. In
fact, the congregation were delighted at hearing their minister say of
Jesus, as Peter did: _Neither is there salvation in any other_, and that
very day more than a hundred embraced their pastor's doctrines.[413]
Jerome, vicar of Stepney, endeavored to plant the pure truth of Christ
in the conscience,[414] and root out all vain traditions, dreams and
fantasies. Being invited to preach at St. Paul's Cross, on the fourth
Sunday in Lent, he said: 'There are two sorts of people among you: the
free, who are freely justified without the penance of the law and
without meritorious works; and the slaves, who are still under the yoke
of the law.'—Even a bishop, Barlow of St. David's, said in a stately
cathedral: 'If two or three cobblers or weavers, elect of God, meet
together in the name of the Lord, they form a true Church of God.'[415]

This was going too far: proceedings were commenced against those who had
thus braved the king's articles. Jerome appeared before Henry VIII. at
Westminster. The poor fellow, intimidated by the royal majesty,
tremblingly acknowledged that the sacraments were necessary for
salvation; but he was burnt five years after in the cause of the Gospel.
Gale and others were accused of heresy and treason before the criminal
court. The books were not spared. There were some, indeed, that went
beyond all bounds. One, entitled _The little garden of the soul_,[416]
contained a passage, in which the beheading of John the Baptist and of
Anne Boleyn were ascribed to the same motive—the reproach of a criminal
love uttered against two princes: one by Anne, and the other by John.
Henry compared to Herod! Anne Boleyn to Saint John the Baptist! Tonstall
denounced this audacious publication to Cromwell.

The crown-officers were to see that the doctrines of the pope were
taught everywhere; but, without the pope and his authority, this system
has no solid foundation. The Holy Scriptures, to which evangelical
Christians appeal, is a firm foundation. The authority of the pope—a
vicious principle—at least puts those who admit it in a position to know
what they believe. But catholicism with Romish doctrine and without the
pope, has no ground to stand on. Non-Roman-catholicism has but a
treacherous support. Another system had already, in the sixteenth
century, set up reason as the supreme rule; but it presents a thousand
different opinions, and no absolute truth. There is but one real
foundation: _Thy word is truth_, says Jesus Christ.

[393] Wilkins, _Concilia_, iii. p. 817.

[394] Wilkins, _Concilia_, iii. p. 818.

[395] Bossuet, _Histoire des Variations_, liv. vii. § 30.

[396] Wilkins, _Annals_, iii. p. 819.

[397] Bossuet, _Histoire des Variations_, liv. vii. § 26.

[398] _Ibid._ § 25.

[399] Council of Trent, sixth session, canons 9 & 11.

[400] Bossuet, _Variations_, liv. vii. § 26.

[401] _Ibid._

[402] _Ibid._ § 27.

[403] Wilkins, _Concilia_, iii. p. 822.

[404] Bossuet, _Variations_, liv. vii. § 28.

[405] Lord Herbert of Cherbury, p. 470.

[406] Heylin, _Ecclesia vindicata_, p. 15. Anderson, _Annals of the
English Bible_, i. p. 507.

[407] Wilkins, _Concilia_, iii. pp. 823, 827.

[408] 'Nullius Synodi finem vidi bonum.'—_Ibid._ p. 808.

[409] Wilkins, _Concilia_, iii. p. 814.

[410] _State Papers_, i. p. 383. Coverdale's _Remains_, p. 490. The
letter is dated the 1st of May, but has no year: it appears to me to
be 1530.

[411] Such copies may be found at the British Museum, and in the
libraries at Lambeth and Sion College.

[412] Strype, i. p. 442.

[413] _Ibid._ i. p. 443.

[414] Foxe, _Acts_, v. p. 429.

[415] 'Two cobblers and weavers, in company, elected in the name of God,
there was the true Church of God.'—Strype, _Records_, i. p. 443.

[416] _Hortulus animæ._—Strype, i. p. 444.




 CHAPTER XIII.
 INSURRECTION OF THE NORTH OF ENGLAND TO RESTORE THE
 PAPACY AND DESTROY THE REFORMATION.
 (OCTOBER, 1536.)


The bastard system of a catholicism without a pope, put forward by the
king, did not enjoy great favor, and the evangelical Reform gained fresh
adherents every day. The more consistent popish system endeavored to
stand against it. There were still many partisans of Rome in the
aristocracy and among the populations of the North. A mighty effort was
about to be made to expel both Cranmer's protestantism and the king's
catholicism, and restore the papacy to its privileges. A great
revolution is rarely accomplished without the friends of the old order
of things combining to resist it.

[Sidenote: INFLUENCE OF THE HOUSE OF COMMONS.]

Many members of the House of Lords saw with alarm the House of Commons
gaining an influence which it had never possessed before, and taking the
initiative in reforms which were not (as they thought) within its
sphere. Trained in the hatred of heresy, those noble lords were
indignant at seeing heretics invested with the episcopal dignity, and a
layman, Cromwell, presuming to direct the convocation of the clergy.
Some of them formed a league, and Lord Darcy, who was at their head, had
a conference on the subject with the ambassador of Charles V. That
prince assured him that he should be supported.[417] The English
partisans of the pope, aided by the imperialists, would be amply
sufficient, they thought, to re-establish the authority of the Roman
pontiff.

There was great agitation especially among the inhabitants of the towns
and villages of the North. Those of the counties of York and Lincoln,
too remote from London to feel its influence, besides being ignorant and
superstitious, were submissive to the priests as to the very
representatives of God. The names of the Reformers Luther, Melanchthon,
Œcolampadius, and Tyndale were known by the priests, who taught their
flocks to detest them. Everything they saw exasperated them. If they
went a journey, the convents which were their ordinary hostelries
existed no longer. If they worked in the fields, they saw approaching
them some ragged monk, with tangled hair and beard, with haggard eye,
without bread to support him, or roof to shelter him, to whom hatred
still gave strength to complain and to curse. These unhappy wretches
went roaming up and down the country, knocking at every door; the
peasants received them like saints, seated them at their table, and
starved themselves for their nourishment. 'See,' said the friars,
showing their rags to the people about them, 'see to what a condition
the members of Jesus Christ are reduced! A schismatic and heretical
prince has expelled us from the houses of the Lord. But the Holy Father
has excommunicated and dethroned him: no one should henceforth obey
him.' Such words produced their effect.

When the autumn of 1536 had arrived, the ferment increased among the
inhabitants of the rural districts who had no longer their field labors
to divert them. They assembled in great numbers round the convents to
see what the king meant to do with them. They looked on at a distance,
and with angry eyes watched the commissioners who at times behaved
violently, indulged in exactions, or threw down one after another the
stones of the building which had been held in such long reverence.
Another day they saw the agent of some lord settle in the monastery with
his wife, children, and servants; they heard those profane lay-folks
laugh and chatter as they entered the sacred doors, whose thresholds had
until now been trodden only by the sandals of the silent monks. A report
spread abroad, that the monasteries still surviving were also about to
be suppressed. Dr. Makerel, formerly prior of Barlings, disguised as a
laborer, and a monk (some writers say a shoemaker) named Melton, who
received the name of 'Captain Cobbler,'[418] endeavored to inflame men's
minds and drive them to revolt. Everywhere the people listened to the
agitators; and ere long the superior clergy appeared in the line of
battle. 'Neither the king's highness nor any temporal man,' they said,
'may be supreme head of the Church. The Pope of Rome is Christ's vicar,
and must alone be acknowledged as supreme head of Christendom.'[419]

[Sidenote: REVOLT IN LINCOLNSHIRE.]

On Monday, 2d of October, 1536, the ecclesiastical commission was to
visit the parish of Louth in Lincolnshire,[420] and the clergy of the
district were ordered to be present. Only a few days before, a
neighboring monastery had been suppressed and two of Cromwell's agents
placed in it to see to the closing. The evening before the inspection
(it was a Sunday) a number of the townspeople brought out a large silver
cross which belonged to the parish, and shouting out, 'Follow the cross!
All follow the cross! God knows if we can do so for long,' marched in
procession through the town, with Melton leading the way. Some went to
the church, took possession of the consecrated jewels, and remained
under arms all night to guard them for fear the royal commissioners
should carry them off. On Monday morning one of the commissioners, who
had no suspicions, quietly rode into the town, followed by a single
servant. All of a sudden the alarm-bell was rung, and a crowd of armed
men filled the streets. The terrified commissioner ran into the church,
hoping to find it an inviolable asylum; but the mob laid hold of him,
dragged him out into the market-place, and pointing a sword at his
breast, said to him, 'Swear fidelity to the Commons or you are a dead
man.' All the town took an oath to be faithful to King, Commons, and
Holy Church. On Tuesday morning the alarm-bell was rung again; the
cobbler and a tailor named Big Jack marched out, followed by a crowd of
men, some on foot and some on horseback. Whole parishes, headed by their
priests, joined them and marched with the rest. The monks prayed aloud
for the pope, and cried out that if the gentry did not join them they
should all be hanged; but gentlemen and even sheriffs united with the
tumultuous troops. Twenty thousand men of Lincolnshire were in arms.
England, like Germany, had its peasant revolt;[421] but while Luther was
opposed to it, the archbishop of York, with many abbots and priests,
encouraged it in England.

The insurgents did not delay proclaiming their grievances. They declared
that if the monasteries were restored, men of mean birth dismissed from
the Council,[422] and heretic bishops deprived, they would acknowledge
the king as head of the Church.[423] The movement
was got up by the monks more than by the pope. Great disorders were
committed.

The court was plunged into consternation by this revolt. The king, who
had no standing army, felt his weakness, and his anger knew no bounds.
'What!' he said to the _traitors_ (for such was the name he gave them),
'what! do you, the rude commons of one shire, and that one of the most
_brute and beastly_ of the whole realm, presume to find fault with your
king? Return to your homes, surrender to our lieutenants a hundred of
your leaders, and prepare to submit to such condign punishment as we
shall think you worthy of; otherwise you will expose yourselves, your
wives and children, your lands and goods, not only to the indignation of
God, but to utter destruction by force and violence of the sword.'

Such threats as these only served to increase the commotion.
'Christianity is going to be abolished,' said the priests; 'you will
soon find yourselves under the sword of _Turks_! But whoever sheds his
blood with us shall inherit eternal glory.' The people crowded to them
from all quarters. Lord Shrewsbury, sent by the king against the
rebellion, being unable to collect more than 3,000 men, and having to
contend against ten times as many, had halted at Nottingham. London
already imagined the rebels were at its gates, and mighty exertions were
made. Sir John Russell and the duke of Suffolk were sent forward with
forces hurriedly equipped.

The insurgents were 60,000 strong, but with no efficient leader or store
of provisions. Two opinions arose among them: the gentlemen and farmers
cried, 'Home, home!' the priests and the people shouted, 'To arms!' The
party of the friends of order continued increasing, and at last
prevailed. The duke of Suffolk entered Lincolnshire on October 13, and
the rebels dispersed.[424]

[Sidenote: PILGRIMAGE OF GRACE.]

A still greater danger threatened the established order of things. The
men of the North were more ultramontane than those of Lincoln. On
October 8 there was a riot at Beverley, in Yorkshire. A Westminster
lawyer, Robert Aske, who had passed his vacation in field-sports, was
returning to London, when he was stopped by the rebels and proclaimed
their leader. On October 15 he marched to York and replaced the monks in
possession of their monasteries. Lord Darcy, an old soldier of Ferdinand
of Spain and Louis XII., a warm papal partisan, quitted his castle of
Pomfret to join the insurrection. The priests stirred up the
people,[425] and ere long, the army, which amounted to 40,000 men,
formed a long procession, 'the _Pilgrimage of Grace_,' which marched
through the county of York. Each parish paraded under a captain, priests
carrying the church cross in front by way of flag. A large banner, which
floated in the midst of this multitude, represented on one side Christ
with the five wounds on a cross, and on the other a plow, a chalice, a
pix, and a hunting-horn. Every pilgrim wore embroidered on his sleeve
the five wounds of Christ with the name of Jesus in the midst. The
insurgents had a thousand bows and as many bills, besides other
arms,[426] but hardly one poor copy of the Testament of Christ. 'Ah!'
said Latimer, preaching in Lincolnshire, 'I will tell you what is the
true Christian man's pilgrimage. There are, the Saviour tells us, eight
days' journeys.' Then he described the eight beatitudes in the most
evangelical manner: the poor in spirit, those who mourn, those who are
meek, those who hunger and thirst after righteousness, and the
rest.[427]

Aske's pilgrimage was of another sort. Addressing the people of those
parts, he said to them: 'Lords, knights, masters, and friends,
evil-disposed persons have filled the king's mind with new inventions:
the holy body of the Church has been despoiled. We have therefore
undertaken this _pilgrimage_ for the reformation of what is amiss and
the punishment of heretics.[428] If you will not come with us we will
fight and die against you.' Great bonfires were lighted on all the hills
to call the people to arms. Wherever these new crusaders appeared the
monks were replaced in their monasteries and the peasants constrained to
join the pilgrimage, under pain of seeing their houses pulled down,
their goods seized, and their bodies handed over to the mercy of the
captains.

There was this notable difference between the revolt in Germany and that
in the North of England. In Germany, a few nobles only joined the people
and were compelled to do so. In England, almost all the nobility of the
North rallied to it of their own accord. The earls of Westmoreland,
Rutland, and Huntingdon, Lords Latimer, Lumley, Scrope, Conyers, and the
representatives of several other great families, followed the example of
old Lord Darcy. One single nobleman, Percy, earl of Northumberland,
remained faithful to the king. He had been ill since the unjust sentence
which had struck the loyal wife of Henry VIII.—a sentence in which he
had refused to join—and was now at his castle lying on a bed of pain
which was soon to be the bed of death. The rebels surrounded his
dwelling and summoned him to join the insurrection. He might now have
avenged the crime committed by Henry VIII. against Anne Boleyn, but he
refused. Savage voices shouted out, 'Cut off his head, and make Sir
Thomas Percy earl in his stead.' But the noble and courageous man said
calmly to those around him, 'I can die but once; let them kill me, and
so put an end to my sorrows.'[429]

The king, more alarmed at this revolt than at the former one, asked with
terror whether his people desired to force him to replace his neck under
the detested yoke of the pope. In this crisis he displayed great
activity. Being at Windsor, he wrote letter after letter to
Cromwell.[430] 'I will sell all my plate,' he said. 'Go to the Tower,
take as much plate as you may want, and coin it into money.'[431] Henry
displayed no less intelligence than decision. He named as commander of
his little army a devoted servant, who was also the chief of the
ultramontane party at the court—the duke of Norfolk. Once already, for
the condemnation of the protestant Anne Boleyn, Henry had selected this
chief of the Romish party. This clever policy succeeded equally well for
the king in both affairs.

London, Windsor, and all the south of England were in great commotion.
People imagined that the papacy, borne on the lusty arms of the northern
men, was about to return in triumph into the capital; that perhaps the
Catholic king of the Scots, Henry's nephew, would enter with it and
place England once more under the papal sceptre. The friends of the
Gospel were deeply agitated. 'That great captain the devil,' said
Latimer in the London pulpits, 'has all sorts of ordnance to shoot at
Christian men. These men of the North, who wear the cross and the wounds
before and behind,[432] are marching against Him who bare the cross and
suffered those wounds. They have risen (they say) to support the king,
and they are fighting against him. They come forward in the name of the
Church, and fight against the Church, which is the congregation of
faithful men. Let us fight with the sword of the spirit, which is the
Word of God.'

The rebels, far from being calmed, showed—part of them at least—that
they were animated by the vilest sentiments. A body of insurgents had
invested the castle of Skipton, the only place in the county of York
which still held for the king. The wife and daughters of Lord Clifford,
and other ladies who inhabited it, happened to be at an abbey not far
off, just when the castle was beleaguered. The insurgents caused Lord
Clifford to be informed that if he did not surrender, his wife and
daughters would be brought next day to the foot of the walls and be
given up to the camp-followers. In the middle of the night, Christopher
Aske, brother of Robert, who had remained faithful, crept through the
camp of the besiegers, and by unfrequented roads succeeded in bringing
into the castle all those ladies, whom he thus saved from the most
infamous outrages.[433]

[Sidenote: THE LANCASTER HERALD.]

Robert Aske, Lord Darcy, the archbishop of York, and several other
leaders had their head-quarters at Pomfret castle, where the Lancaster
herald, dispatched by the king, presented himself on the 21st of
October. After passing through many troops of armed men—'very cruel
fellows,' he says[434]—he was at last introduced to the great captain.
Seeing Lord Darcy and the archbishop before him—persons more important
than the Westminster lawyer—the herald began to address them. Aske was
offended, and rising from his seat told him haughtily, that he was the
person to be addressed. The messenger discharged his mission. He
represented to the leaders of the rebellion that they were but a handful
before the great power of his Majesty,[435] and that the king had done
nothing in regard to religion, but what the clergy of York and of
Canterbury had acknowledged to be in conformity with the Word of God.
When the speech was ended, Aske, as if he did not care for the herald's
words, said rudely to him, 'Show me your proclamation.' 'He behaved,'
wrote the envoy, 'as though he had been some great prince, with great
rigor and like a tyrant.' 'Herald,' said Aske, 'this proclamation shall
neither be read at the market-cross nor elsewhere amongst my people. We
want the redress of our grievances, and we will die fighting to obtain
them.' The herald asked what were their grievances. 'My followers and
I,' replied the chief, 'will walk in pilgrimage to London, to his
Majesty, to expel from the council all the vile blood in it, and set up
all the noble blood again;[436] and also to obtain the full restitution
of Christ's Church.' 'Will you give me that in writing?' said the
herald. Aske gave him the oath which the rebels took, and at the same
time putting his hand on the paper, he said with a loud voice, 'This is
my act; I will die in its defence, and all my followers will die with
me.' The herald, intimidated by the authoritative tone of the chief,
bent his knee before the rebel captain, for which he was brought to
trial and executed in the following year. 'Give him a guard of forty
men, and see him out of town,' said Aske.

[Sidenote: REBELS MARCH ON LONDON.]

Forthwith thirty thousand well-armed men, of whom twelve thousand were
mounted, set out under the orders of Aske, Lord Darcy, and other
noblemen of the country. Norfolk had only a small force, which he could
not trust; accordingly the rebels were convinced, that when they
appeared, the king's soldiers and perhaps the duke himself would join
them. The Roman-catholic army arrived on the banks of the Don, on the
other side of which (at Doncaster) the king's forces were stationed.
Those ardent men, who were six against one, inflamed by monks who were
impatient to return to their nests, proposed to pass the Don, overthrow
Norfolk, enter London, dictate to the king the execution of all the
partisans of the Reformation, and restore the papal power in England.
The rising of the water, increased by heavy rains, did not permit them
to cross the river. Every hour's delay was a gain to the royal cause;
the insurgents having brought no provisions with them, were forced to
disband to go in search of them elsewhere. Norfolk took advantage of
this to circulate an address among the rebels. 'Unhappy men!' it said,
'what folly hath led you to make this most shameful rebellion against
our most righteous king, who hath kept you in peace against all your
enemies? Fye, for shame! How can you do this to one who loves you more
than all his subjects? If you do not return, every man to his house, we
will show you the hardest courtesy that ever was shown to men, that have
loved you so well as we have done. But if you go to your homes, you
shall have us most humble suitors to his Highness for you.'[437] This
proclamation was signed by Lords Norfolk, Shrewsbury, Exeter, Rutland,
and Huntingdon, all catholics, and the greatest names in England.

The insurgents thus found themselves in the most difficult position.
They must attack the supporters of their own cause. If the lords who had
signed the proclamation were slain, England would lose her best
councillors, and her greatest generals, and the Church would be deprived
of the most zealous catholics. The strength of England would be
sacrificed and the country opened to her enemies. Old Lord Darcy was for
attacking; young Robert Aske for negotiation. On Saturday, 28th of
October, commissioners from both parties met on the bridge leading to
Doncaster. The rebel commissioners consented to lay down their arms,
provided the heresies of Luther, Wicliff, Huss, Melanchthon,
Œcolampadius, and the works of Tyndale were destroyed and nullified;
that the supremacy was restored to the see of Rome; that the suppressed
abbeys were re-established; that heretical bishops and lords were
punished by fire or otherwise; and that a parliament was held promptly
at Nottingham or York.[438]

There could no longer be any doubt, that the object of the insurrection
was to crush the Reformation. The names of most of the reformers were
mentioned in the articles, and fire or sword were to do justice to the
most illustrious of their adherents. The same evening they handed in a
letter addressed: _To the King's Royal Highness. From Doncaster, this
Saturday, at eleven of the clock at night. Haste, post, haste, haste,
haste!_[439] The rebels themselves were in such haste that they waited
no longer. The next day (29th of October) the king's lieutenant
announced at one in the afternoon, that the insurgents had dispersed and
were returning to their homes.[440] Two of the rebel leaders were to
carry the stipulated conditions to the king, and Norfolk was to
accompany them. That zealous catholic was not perhaps without a hope
that the petition would induce Henry to become reconciled to the pope.
He was greatly deceived.

Thus God had scattered the forces of those who had stood up against
Wicliff, Huss, and Luther. The kingdom resumed its usual tranquillity. A
little later the men of the North, excited by the intrigues of the pope
and Reginald Pole, then a cardinal, again took up arms; but they were
defeated; seventy of them were hanged on the walls of Carlisle, and
Lords Darcy and Hussey, with many barons, abbots, priors, and a great
number of priests, were executed in different places. The scheming
archbishop of York alone escaped, it is not known how. The cottages,
parsonages, and castles of the North were filled with anguish and
terror. Henry, who cut off the heads of his most intimate friends and of
his queen, did not think of sparing rebels. It was a terrible lesson,
but not very effectual. The priests did not lose their courage; they
still kept asking for the re-establishment of the pope, the death of the
Lutherans, and the annihilation of the Reform. An event which occurred
at this time seemed likely to favor their desires. A great blow was
about to be dealt against the Reformation. But the ways of God are not
as our ways, and from what seems destined to compromise His cause, He
often makes His triumph proceed.

[417] 'That he should lack no help.'—_State Papers_, i. p. 558.

[418] _State Papers_, i. p. 462, note.

[419] Wilkins, _Concilia_, iii. p. 812.

[420] _State Papers_, i. p. 462.

[421] The _State Papers_ contain several documents relating to this
insurrection (vol. i. pp. 462-534). Others are in the _Chapter House_.

[422] 'Counsellors of mean birth'—particularly Cromwell.—Herbert,
p. 474.

[423] 'They might accept his grace to be Supreme Head of the
Church.'—_Ibid._

[424] _State Papers_, i. pp. 462, 471.

[425] 'Certain abbots moved to insurrection.'—Coverdale, _Remains_,
p. 329.

[426] Bale, _Works_, p. 327. Bale was Archbishop of York in 1553.

[427] Latimer, _Sermons_, i. p. 476.

[428] _State Papers_, i. p. 467. Dr. Lingard says that this expedition
was named jestingly 'the Pilgrimage of Grace.' He is mistaken: the
rebels themselves seriously call it by this name six times in their
proclamation.

[429] Stapleton's _Examination_.

[430] October 17 and 18, 1536. Letters liv. to lviii. pp. 475-478, of
the _State Papers_, vol. i.

[431] _State Papers_, i. p. 478, 482.

[432] Latimer, _Sermons_, p. 29.

[433] This fact is mentioned in one of the depositions of the trial
which followed the revolt. See Christopher Aske's Examination.

[434] Lancaster Herald's Report.—_State Papers_, i. p. 485.

[435] The herald added: 'They shall be constrained the next year to
eat their own fingers.'—_State Papers_, i. p. 476.

[436] 'To have all the vyle blood of his counsell put from him and
all noble blood set up again.'—_Lancaster Herald's Report_, p. 486.

[437] _State Papers_, i. p. 495.

[438] These articles are more or less numerous according to the
sources whence they are derived.

[439] _State Papers_, i. p. 496.

[440] _Ibid._ p. 497.




 CHAPTER XIV.
 THE DEATH OF THE GREAT REFORMER OF ENGLAND.
 (FROM 1535 TO OCTOBER 1536.)


Most of the reformers, Luther, Zuingle, Calvin, Knox, and others have
acquired that name by their preachings, their writings, their struggles,
and their actions. It is not so with the principal reformer of England:
all his activity was concentred in the Holy Scriptures. Tyndale was less
prominent than the other instruments of God, who were awakened to
upraise the Church. We might say, that knowing the weakness of man, he
had retired and hidden himself to allow the Word from Heaven to act by
itself. He had studied it, translated it, and sent it over the sea: it
must now do its own work. Is it not written: _The field is the world,
and the seed is the Word_? But there is another characteristic, or
rather another fact, which distinguishes him from them, and this we have
to describe.

[Sidenote: TYNDALE'S CHARACTERISTIC.]

While the new adversaries of Henry VIII., Pole and the papistical party,
were agitating on the continent, Tyndale, the man whom the king had
pursued so long without being able to catch, was in prison at Vilvorde,
near Brussels. In vain was he girt around with the thick walls of that
huge fortress. Tyndale was free. 'There is the captivity and bondage,'
he could say, 'whence Christ delivered us, redeemed and loosed us.[441]
His blood, his death, his patience in suffering rebukes and wrongs, his
prayers and fastings, his meekness and fulfilling of the uttermost point
of the law broke the bonds of Satan, wherein we were so strait bound.'
Thus Tyndale was as truly free at Vilvorde, as Paul had been at Rome. He
felt pressed to accomplish a vow made many years before. 'If God
preserves my life,' he had said, 'I will cause a boy that driveth a plow
to know more of the Scriptures than the pope.' True Christianity shows
itself by the attention it gives to Christ's little ones. It was time
for Tyndale to keep his promise. He occupied his prison hours in
preparing for the humble dwellers in the Gloucestershire villages and
the surrounding counties, an edition of the Bible in which he employed
the language and orthography used in that part of England.[442] When
near his end, he returned lovingly to the familiar speech of his
childhood; he wrote in the dialect of the peasantry to save the souls of
the peasants, and for the first time put titles to the chapters of the
Scripture, in order to make the understanding of it easier to his
humbler fellow-countrymen. Two other editions of the New Testament
appeared during the first year of his captivity. He did more: he had
translated the Old Testament according to the Hebrew text, and was going
to see to the printing of it just when Philips betrayed him. The fear
that this labor would be lost grieved him even more than his
imprisonment: a friend undertook the work he could no longer do himself.

[Sidenote: ROGERS AND TYNDALE.]

At that time there lived at Antwerp, as chaplain to the English
merchants in that city, a young man from the county of Warwick, named
Rogers, who had been educated at Cambridge, and was a little more than
thirty years old. Rogers was learned, but submissive to the Romish
traditions. Tyndale having made his acquaintance, asked him to help in
translating the Holy Scriptures, and Rogers caught joyfully at the
opportunity of employing his Greek and Hebrew. Close and constant
contact with the Word of God gradually effected in him that great
transformation, that total renewal of the man which is the object of
redemption. 'I have found the true light in the Gospel,' he said one day
to Tyndale; 'I now see the filthiness of Rome, and I cast from my
shoulders the heavy yoke it had imposed upon me.'[443] From that hour
Tyndale received from Rogers the help which he had formerly received
from John Fryth, that pious martyr, whose example Rogers was to follow
by enduring, the first under Mary, the punishment of fire. The Holy
Scriptures have been written in English with the blood of martyrs—if we
may so speak—the blood of Fryth, Tyndale, and Rogers: it is a crown of
glory for that translation. At the moment of Tyndale's perfidious
arrest, Rogers had fortunately saved the manuscript of the Old
Testament, and now resolved to delay the printing no longer. When the
news of this reached the Reformer in his cell at Vilvorde, it cast a
gleam of light upon his latter days and filled his heart with joy. The
_whole Bible_,—that was the legacy which the dying Tyndale desired to
leave to his fellow-countrymen. He took pleasure in his gloomy dungeon
in following with his mind's eye that divine Scripture from city to city
and from cottage to cottage; his imagination pictured to him the
struggles it would have to go through, and also its victories. 'The Word
of God,' he said, 'never was without persecution—no more than the sun
can be without his light. By what right doth the pope forbid God to
speak in the English tongue? Why should not the sermons of the Apostles,
preached no doubt in the mother-tongue of those who heard them, be now
written in the mother-tongue of those who read them?' Tyndale did not
think of proving the divinity of the Bible by learned dissertations.
'Scripture derives its authority from Him who sent it,' he said. 'Would
you know the reason why men believe in Scripture?—It is _Scripture_.—It
is itself the instrument which outwardly leads men to believe, whilst
inwardly, the spirit of God Himself, speaking through Scripture, gives
faith to His children.'[444] We do not know for certain in what city
Rogers printed the great English folio Bible. Hamburg, Antwerp, Marburg,
Lubeck, and even Paris have been named. Extraordinary precautions were
required to prevent the persecutors from entering the house where men
had the boldness to print the Word of God, and from breaking the
printing-presses. Tyndale had the great comfort of knowing that the
whole Bible was going to be published, and that prophets, apostles, and
Christ himself would speak by it after his death.[445]

[Sidenote: TYNDALE IN PRISON.]

This man, so active, so learned, and so truly great, whose works
circulated far and wide with so much power, had at the same time within
him a pure and beneficent light—the love of God and of man—which shed
its mild rays on all around him. The depth of his faith, the charm of
his conversation, the uprightness of his conduct, touched those who came
near him.[446] The jailer liked to bring him his food, in order to talk
with him, and his young daughter often accompanied him and listened
eagerly to the words of the pious Englishman. Tyndale spoke of Jesus
Christ; it seemed to him that the riches of the divine Spirit were about
to transform Christendom; that the children of God were about to be
manifested, and that the Lord was about _to gather together his elect_.
'Grace is there, summer is nigh,' he was wont to say, 'for the trees
blossom.'[447] In truth, young shoots and even old trees, long barren,
flourished within the very walls of the castle. The jailer, his
daughter, and other members of their house were converted to the Gospel
by Tyndale's life and doctrine.[448] However dark the machinations of
his enemies, they could not obscure the divine light kindled in his
heart, and which _shone before men_. There was an invincible power in
this Christian man. Full of hope in the final victory of Jesus Christ,
he courageously trampled under foot tribulations, trials, and death
itself. He believed in the victory of the Word. 'I am bound like a
malefactor,' he said, 'but the Word of God is not bound.' The bitterness
of his last days was changed into great peace and divine sweetness.

[Sidenote: EFFORTS TO SAVE TYNDALE.]

His friends did not forget him. Among the English merchants at Antwerp
was one whose affection had often reminded him that 'friendship is the
assemblage of every virtue,' as a wise man of antiquity styles it.[449]
Thomas Poyntz, one of whose ancestors had come over from Normandy with
William the Conqueror, had perhaps known the reformer in the house of
Lady Walsh, who also belonged to this ancient family. For nearly a year
the merchant had entertained the translator of the Scriptures beneath
his roof, and a mutual and unlimited confidence was established between
them. When Poyntz saw his friend in prison, he resolved to do everything
to save him. Poyntz's elder brother John, who had retired to his estate
at North Okendon, in Essex, had accompanied the king in 1520 to the
Field of the Cloth of Gold, and although no longer at court, he still
enjoyed the favor of Henry VIII. Thomas determined to write to John.
'Right well-beloved brother,' he said, 'William Tyndale is in prison,
and like to suffer death, unless the king should extend his gracious
help to him. He has lain in my house three quarters of a year, and I
know that the king has never a truer-hearted subject.[450] When the pope
gave his Majesty the title of Defender of the Faith, he prophesied like
Caiaphas. The papists thought our prince should be a great maintainer of
their abominations; but God has entered his grace into the right battle.
The king should know that the death of this man will be one of the
highest pleasures to the enemies of the Gospel. If it might please his
Majesty to send for this man, it might, by the means thereof, be opened
to the court and council of this country (Brabant) that they would be at
another point with the bishop of Rome within a short space.'

John lost no time: he succeeded in interesting Cromwell in the
reformer's cause, and on the 10th of September 1535, a messenger arrived
in Antwerp with two letters from the vicar-general—one for the marquis
of Bergen-op-zoom, and the other for Carondelet, archbishop of Palermo
and president of the council of Brabant. Alas! the marquis had started
two days before for Germany, whither he was conducting the princess of
Denmark. Thomas Poyntz mounted his horse, and caught up the escort about
fifteen miles from Maestricht. The marquis hurriedly glanced over
Cromwell's dispatch. 'I have no leisure to write,' he said; 'the
princess is making ready to depart.' 'I will follow you to the next
baiting place,' answered Tyndale's indefatigable friend. 'Be it so,'
replied Bergen-op-zoom.

On arriving at Maestricht, the marquis wrote to Flegge, to Cromwell, and
to his friend the archbishop, president of the council of Brabant, and
gave the three letters to Poyntz. The latter presented the letters of
Cromwell and of the marquis to the president, but the archbishop and the
council of Brabant were opposed to Tyndale. Poyntz immediately started
for London, and laid the answer of the council before Cromwell,
entreating him to insist that Tyndale should be immediately set at
liberty, for the danger was great. The answer was delayed a month.[451]
Poyntz handed it to the chancery of Brabant, and every day this true and
generous friend went to the office to learn the result. 'Your request
will be granted,' said one of the clerks on the fourth day. Poyntz was
transported with joy. Tyndale was saved.[452]

The traitor Philips, however, who had delivered him to his enemies, was
then at Louvain. He had run away from Antwerp, knowing that the English
merchants were angry with him, and had sold his books with the intent of
escaping to Paris. But the Louvain priests, who still needed him,
reassured him, and remaining in that stronghold of Romanism, he began to
translate into Latin such passages in Tyndale's writings as he thought
best calculated to offend the catholics. He was thus occupied when the
news of Tyndale's approaching deliverance filled him and his friends
with alarm. What was to be done? He thought the only means of preventing
the liberation of the prisoner was to shut up the liberator
himself.[453] Philips went straight to the procurator-general. 'That
man, Poyntz,' he said, 'is as much a heretic as Tyndale.' Two
sergeants-at-arms were sent to keep watch over Poyntz at his house, and
for six days in succession he was examined upon a hundred different
articles. At the beginning of February 1536, he learnt that he was about
to be sent to prison, and knowing what would follow, he formed a prompt
resolution. One night, when the sergeants-at-arms were asleep, he
escaped and left the city early, just as the gates were opened. Horsemen
were sent in search of him; but as Poyntz knew the country well, he
escaped them, got on board a ship, and arrived safe and sound at his
brother's house at North Okendon.

[Sidenote: TYNDALE'S FIRMNESS.]

When Tyndale heard of this escape, he knew what it indicated; but he was
not overwhelmed, and almost at the foot of the scaffold, he bravely
fought many a tough battle. The Louvain doctors undertook to make him
abjure his faith, and represented to him that he was condemned by the
Church. 'The authority of Jesus Christ,' answered Tyndale, 'is
independent of the authority of the Church.' They called upon him to
make submission to the successor of the Apostle Peter. 'Holy Scripture,'
he said, 'is the first of the Apostles, and the _ruler_ in the kingdom
of Christ.'[454] The Romish doctors ineffectually attacked him in his
prison: he showed them that they were entangled in vain traditions and
miserable superstitions, and overthrew all their pretences.

During this time Poyntz was working with all his might in England to
ward off the blow by which his friend was about to be struck. John
assisted Thomas, but all was useless. Henry just at that time was making
great efforts to arrest some of his subjects, whom their devotion to the
pope had driven out of England. 'Cover all the roads with spies, in
order to catch them,' he wrote to the German magistrates;[455] but there
was not a word about Tyndale. The king cared very little for these
evangelicals. His religion consisted in rejecting the Roman pontiff and
making himself pope; as for those reformers, let them be burnt in
Brabant, it will save him the trouble.

All hope was not, however, lost. They had confidence in the vicegerent,
the _hammer_ of the monks. On the 13th of April Vaughan wrote to
Cromwell from Antwerp: 'If you will send me a letter for the
privy-council, I can still save Tyndale from the stake; only make haste,
for if you are slack about it, it will be too late.'[456] But there were
cases in which Cromwell could do nothing without the king, and Henry was
deaf. He had special motives at that time for sacrificing Tyndale: the
discontent which broke out in the North of England made him desirous of
conciliating the Low Countries. Charles V. also, who was vigorously
attacked by Francis I., prayed _his very good brother_ (Henry VIII.) to
unite with him _for the public good of Christendom_.[457] Queen Mary,
regent of the Netherlands, wrote from Brussels to her uncle, entreating
him to yield to this prayer, and the king was quite ready to abandon
Tyndale to such powerful allies. Mary, a woman of upright heart but
feeble character, easily yielded to outward impressions, and had at that
time bad counsellors about her. 'Those animals (the monks) are all
powerful at the Court of Brussels,' said Erasmus. 'Mary is only a puppet
placed there by our nation; Montigny is the plaything of the
Franciscans; the cardinal-archbishop of Liège is a domineering person,
and full of violence; and as for the archbishop of Palermo, he is a mere
giver of words and nothing else.'[458]

Among such personages, and under their influence, the court was formed,
and the trial of the reformer of England began. Tyndale refused to be
represented by counsel. 'I will answer my accusers myself,' he said. The
doctrine for which he was tried was this: 'The man who throws off the
worldly existence which he has lived far from God, and receives by a
living faith the complete remission of his sins, which the death of
Christ has purchased for him, is introduced by a glorious adoption into
the very family of God.' This was certainly a crime for which a reformer
could joyfully suffer. In August 1536, Tyndale appeared before the
ecclesiastical court. 'You are charged,' said his judges, 'with having
infringed the imperial decree which forbids any one to teach that faith
alone justifies.'[459] The accusation was not without truth. Tyndale's
_Unjust Mammon_ had just appeared in London under the title: _Treatise
of Justification by Faith only_. Every man could read in it the crime
with which he was charged.

Tyndale had his reasons when he declared he would defend himself. It was
not his own cause that he undertook to defend, but the cause of the
Bible; a Brabant lawyer would have supported it very poorly. It was in
his heart to proclaim solemnly, before he died, that while all human
religions make salvation proceed from the works of man, the divine
religion makes it proceed from a work of God. 'A man, whom the sense of
his sins has confounded,' said Tyndale, 'loses all confidence and joy.
The first thing to be done to save him is, therefore, to lighten him of
the heavy burden under which his conscience is bowed down. He must
believe in the perfect work of Christ which reconciles him completely
with God; then he has peace, and Christ imparts to him, by his Spirit, a
holy regeneration.—Yes,' he exclaimed, 'we believe and are at peace in
our consciences, because that God who cannot lie, hath promised to
forgive us for Christ's sake. As a child, when his father threateneth
him for his fault, hath never rest till he hear the word of mercy and
forgiveness of his father's mouth again; but as soon as he heareth his
father say, "Go thy way, do me no more so; I forgive thee this fault!"
then is his heart at rest; then runneth he to no man to make
intercession for him; neither, though there come any false merchant,
saying: "What wilt thou give me and I will obtain pardon of thy father
for thee," will he suffer himself to be beguiled. No, he will not buy of
a _wily fox_ what his father hath given him freely.'[460]

[Sidenote: TYNDALE DEGRADED.]

Tyndale had spoken to the consciences of his hearers, and some of them
were beginning to believe that his cause was the cause of the Gospel.
'Truly,' exclaimed the procurator-general, as did formerly the centurion
near the cross; 'truly this was a good, learned, and pious man.'[461]
But the priests would not allow so costly a prey to be snatched from
them. Tyndale was declared guilty of erroneous, captious, rash,
ill-sounding, dangerous, scandalous, and heretical propositions, and was
condemned to be solemnly degraded and then handed over to the secular
power.[462] They were eager to make him go through the ceremonial, even
all the mummeries, used on such occasions: it was too good a case to
allow of any curtailment. The reformer was dressed in his sacerdotal
robes, the sacred vessels and the Bible were placed in his hands, and he
was taken before the bishop. The latter, having been informed of the
_crime_ of the accused man, stripped him of the ornaments of his order,
took away the Bible from the translator of the Bible; and after a barber
had shaved the whole of his head, the bishop declared him deprived of
the crown of the priesthood, and expelled, like an undutiful child, from
the inheritance of the Lord.

One day would have been sufficient to cut off from this world the man
who was its ornament, and those who walked in the darkness of fanaticism
waited impatiently for the fatal hour; but the secular power hesitated
for awhile, and the reformer stayed nearly two months longer in prison,
always full of faith, peace, and joy. 'Well,' said those who came near
him in the castle of Vilvorde, 'if that man is not a good Christian, we
do not know of one upon earth.' Religious courage was personified in
Tyndale. He had never suffered himself to be stopped by any difficulty,
privation, or suffering; he had resolutely followed the call he had
received, which was to give England the Word of God. Nothing had
terrified him, nothing had dispirited him; with admirable perseverance
he had continued his work, and now he was going to give his life for it.
Firm in his convictions, he had never sacrificed the least truth to
prudence or to fear; firm in his hope, he had never doubted that the
labor of his life would bear fruit, for that labor had the promises of
God. That pious and intrepid man is one of the noblest examples of
Christian heroism.

[Sidenote: TYNDALE'S DYING PRAYER.]

The faint hope which some of Tyndale's friends had entertained, on
seeing the delay of justice, was soon destroyed. The imperial government
prepared at last to complete the wishes of the priests. Friday, the 6th
of October, 1536, was the day that terminated the miserable but glorious
life of the reformer. The gates of the prison rolled back, a procession
crossed the foss and the bridge, under which slept the waters of the
Senne,[463] passed the outward walls, and halted without the
fortifications. Before leaving the castle, Tyndale, a grateful friend,
had intrusted the jailer with a letter intended for Poyntz; the jailer
took it himself to Antwerp not long after, but it has not come down to
us. On arriving at the scene of punishment, the reformer found a
numerous crowd assembled. The government had wished to show the people
the punishment of a heretic, but they only witnessed the triumph of a
martyr. Tyndale was calm. 'I call God to record,' he could say, 'that I
have never altered, against the voice of my conscience, one syllable of
his Word. Nor would do this day, if all the pleasures, honors, and
riches of the earth might be given me.'[464] The joy of hope filled his
heart: yet one painful idea took possession of him. Dying far from his
country, abandoned by his king, he felt saddened at the thought of that
prince, who had already persecuted so many of God's servants, and who
remained obstinately rebellious against that divine light which
everywhere shone around him. Tyndale would not have that soul perish
through carelessness. His charity buried all the faults of the monarch:
he prayed that those sins might be blotted out from before the face of
God; he would have saved Henry VIII. at any cost. While the executioner
was fastening him to the post, the reformer exclaimed in a loud and
suppliant voice: 'Lord, open the king of England's eyes!'[465] They were
his last words. Instantly afterwards he was strangled, and flames
consumed the martyr's body. His last cry was wafted to the British
isles, and repeated in every assembly of Christians. A great death had
crowned a great life. 'Such,' says the old chronicler, John Foxe, 'such
is the story of that true servant and martyr of God, William Tyndale,
who, for his notable pains and travail, may well be called _the Apostle
of England in this our later age_.'[466]

His fellow-countrymen profited by the work of his life. As early as 1526
more than twenty editions of Tyndale's New Testament had been circulated
over the kingdom, and others had followed them. It was like a mighty
river continually bearing new waters to the sea. Did the reformer's
death dry them up suddenly? No. A greater work still was to be
accomplished: the entire Bible was ready. But could it be circulated?
The king had refused his consent to the circulation of Coverdale's
Bible; would he not do the same with this, and with greater reason? A
powerful protector alone could secure the free circulation of Scripture.
Richard Grafton, the printer, went to London to ask permission to sell
the precious volume, and with the intention of applying to Cranmer.

Would Cranmer protect it? The king and Cromwell had declared against
Tyndale, and the primate had looked on: that was too much his custom.
His essentially prudent mind, the conviction he felt that he could do no
good to the Church unless he kept the place he occupied, and perhaps his
love of life, inclined him to yield to his master's despotic will. So
long as Henry VIII. was on the throne of England, Cranmer was (humanly
speaking) the only possible reformer. A John the Baptist, a Knox, would
have been dashed to pieces at the first shock. The sceptre was then an
axe; to save the head, it was necessary to bend it. The primate,
therefore, bent his head frequently. He hid himself during the royal
anger, but when the storm had passed he appeared again. The primate was
the victim of an error. He had said that the king ought to command the
Church, and every time the tyrant's order was heard, he appeared to
believe that God himself enjoined him to obey. Cranmer was the image of
his Church which, under the weight of its greatness and with many
weaknesses hidden beneath its robes, has notwithstanding always had
within it a mighty principle of truth and life.

Grafton, the printer, had an audience of the archbishop at Forde, in
Kent: he presented the martyr's Bible, and asked him to procure its free
circulation. The archbishop took the book, examined it, and was
delighted with it. Fidelity, clearness, strength, simplicity,
unction—all were combined in this admirable translation. Cranmer had
much eagerness in proposing what he thought useful. He sent the volume
to Cromwell, begging him to present it to his Majesty and obtain
permission for it to be sold, 'until such time that we (the bishops),'
he added, 'shall put forth a better translation—which, I think, will not
be till a day after doomsday.'[467]

[Sidenote: SALE OF THE BIBLE PERMITTED.]

Henry ran over the book: Tyndale's name was not in it, and the
dedication to his Majesty was very well written. The king regarding (and
not without reason) Holy Scripture as the most powerful engine to
destroy the papal system, and believing that this translation would help
him to emancipate England from the Romish domination, came to an
unexpected resolution: he authorized the sale and the reading of the
Bible throughout the kingdom. Inconsistent and whimsical prince! at one
and the same time he published and imposed all over his realm the
doctrines of Romanism, and circulated without obstacle the Divine Word
that overthrew them! We may well say that the blood of a martyr,
precious in the eyes of the Supreme King, opened the gates of England to
the Holy Scriptures. Cromwell having informed the archbishop of the
royal decision, the latter exclaimed, 'What you have just done gives me
more pleasure than if you had given me a thousand pounds. I doubt not
but that hereby such fruit of good knowledge shall ensue, that it shall
well appear hereafter, what high and acceptable service you have done
unto God and the king, which shall so much redound to your honor that
(besides God's reward) you shall obtain perpetual memory for the
same.'[468]

[Sidenote: RECEPTION OF THE BIBLE.]

For centuries the English people had been waiting for such a permission,
even from before the time of Wycliff; and accordingly the Bible
circulated rapidly. The impetuosity with which the living waters rushed
forth, carrying with them everything they met in their course, was like
the sudden opening of a huge floodgate. This great event, more important
than divorces, treaties, and wars, was the conquest of England by the
Reformation. 'It was a wonderful thing to see,' says an old
historian.[469] Whoever possessed the means bought the book and read it
or had it read to him by others. Aged persons learnt their letters in
order to study the Holy Scriptures of God. In many places there were
meetings for reading; poor people clubbed their savings together and
purchased a Bible, and then in some remote corner of the church,[470]
they modestly formed a circle, and read the Holy Book between them. A
crowd of men, women, and young folks, disgusted with the barren pomp of
the altars, and with the worship of dumb images, would gather round them
to taste the precious promises of the Gospel. God himself spoke under
the arched roofs of those old chapels or time-worn cathedrals, where for
generations nothing had been heard but masses and litanies. The people
wished, instead of the noisy chants of the priests, to hear the voice of
Jesus Christ, of Paul and of John, of Peter and of James. The
Christianity of the Apostles reappeared in the Church.

But with it came persecution, according to the words of the Master: _The
brother shall deliver up the brother to death, and the father the
child_. A father exasperated because his son, a mere boy, had taken part
in these holy readings, caught him by the hair, and put a cord round his
neck to hang him.[471] In all the towns and villages of Tyndale's
country the holy pages were opened, and the delighted readers found
therein those treasures of peace and joy which the martyr had known.
Many cried out with him, 'We know that this Word is from God, as we know
that fire burns; not because any one has told us, but because a Divine
fire consumes our hearts. O the brightness of the face of Moses! O the
splendor of the glory of Jesus Christ, which no veil conceals! O the
inward power of the Divine word, which compels us, with so much
sweetness, to love and to do! O the temple of God within us, in which
the Son of God dwells!'[472] Tyndale had desired to see the world on
fire by his Master's Word, and that fire was kindled.

The general dissemination of the Holy Scriptures forms an important
epoch in the Reformation of England. It is like one of those pillars
which separate one territory from another. Here, for the moment, we
suspend our course, and repose for a brief space ere we turn our steps
to other countries.

[441] Tyndale, _Doctrinal Treatises_, p. 18.

[442] '_The Newe Testament dylygently corrected and compared with the
Greke_, by Willyam Tyndale, and finished in the yere of our Lord God
M.D. anno xxv.' There is a copy of it in the Cambridge Library. In this
edition Tyndale wrote, 'faether, maester, sayede,' &c., instead of
'father, master, said.'

[443] Foxe, _Acts_, vi. p. 591.

[444] Tyndale's _Works_, vol. i. pp. 131, 161, 148; vol. iii. pp. 136,
139.

[445] Mr. Christopher Anderson, who has displayed such a combination of
learning and discernment in his work entitled _The Annals of the English
Bible_, comes to no decision as to the place of impression. He only
remarks that if we examine well the capital letters, initials, &c., we
may now be able to name the printing office from which that volume
proceeded.

[446] Foxe, _Acts_, v. p. 127.

[447] Tyndale, _Doctrinal Treatises_, p. 83.

[448] Foxe, _Acts_, v. p. 127.

[449] Pythagoras in the _Epicteti Enchir._ p. 334.

[450] Anderson, _Annals of the English Bible_, i. p. 427.

[451] 'Let not to take pains with loss of time in his own
business.'—Foxe, _Acts_, v. p. 124.

[452] 'Master Tyndale should have been delivered to him.'—_Ibid._

[453] 'He knew no other remedy but to accuse Poyntz.'—Foxe,
_Acts_, v. p. 430.

[454] Tyndale, _Works_, ii. pp. 195, 251.

[455] Tyndale, _Works_, ii. pp. 195, 251.

[456] _State Papers_, vii. pp. 662, 663, 665.

[457] _Ibid._ ix. pp. 662-664.

[458] Letter to Cholerus. Erasmus died shortly after, on the 12th
of July, 1536.

[459] Foxe, _Acts_, v. p. 127. Urkunden des Augsburg Reichtages,
ii. p. 719.

[460] Tyndale, _Works_, i. p. 294.

[461] 'Homo doctus, pius, et bonus.'—Foxe, _Acts_, v. p. 127.

[462] John Hutton (the English agent) to Lord Cromwell, 12th
August, 1536.—_State Papers_, vii. p. 665.

[463] The present prison is built on the other bank of the river.

[464] Foxe, _Acts_, v. p. 134.

[465] _Ibid._ p. 129.

[466] Foxe, _Acts_, v. p. 114.

[467] Cranmer, _Letters and Remains_ (4th August, 1537), p. 344.

[468] Cranmer, _Letters and Remains_, p. 346.

[469] Strype, _Cranmer Mem._ p. 91.

[470] 'Several poor men ... on Sunday sat reading in the lower
end of the Church.'—_Ibid._

[471] Strype, _Cranmer Mem._, p. 92.

[472] Tyndale's _Works_, vol. i. pp. 27, 317, 373, 463; vol. ii. pp. 210,
260; vol. iii. p. 26.




 BOOK IX.
 REFORMATION OF GENEVA BY FAREL'S MINISTRY, AND ARRIVAL
 OF CALVIN IN THAT CITY AFTER HIS SOJOURN IN ITALY.




 CHAPTER I.
 PROGRESS, STRUGGLES, AND MARTYRS OF THE REFORMATION IN GENEVA.
 (JANUARY TO JUNE 1535.)


The Reformation of Geneva, prepared by the restoration of civil liberty
and begun by the reading of the Word of God and the teaching of various
evangelists, was about to be definitively carried out by the devout
ministry of Froment, Viret, and particularly of Farel. Afterwards
Calvin, in accord with the Councils, who never renounced their right of
intervention, will strengthen the foundations and organize and crown the
edifice. The civil and ecclesiastical powers had (especially since the
days of Hildebrand) struggled continually with each other in the
different nations of Christendom, and stirred up hatreds, divisions, and
wars. A better state of things was to take the place of these perpetual
troubles. Church and State were not always to be united even in Geneva;
but they would show more moderation in their relations, would more
frequently have the same thoughts, and would advance hand in hand
towards a mutual independence, which would not, however, estrange them
from each other.

[Sidenote: IS LIBERTY A BLESSING?]

At the beginning of 1535 the opposition to Reform was still vigorous in
that city, whose inhabitants were discussing the important question
whether liberty was a good or an evil? The partisans of the pope and
Savoy tried to demonstrate to such of the citizens as were known to be
in favor of civil liberty and religious reform, that their condition
would go from bad to worse, if they did not accept the sovereignty of
their bishop, the protectorate of a neighboring prince, and the
supremacy of the pope—three masters for one. The fruits of that
independence with which they were so captivated, would be (they said)
agitation, disorder, violence, and misery. The feudal party was
sincerely convinced that the path of liberty is rugged and dangerous;
that he who follows it stumbles, falls, and is ruined; and that whether
a nation be great or small, it needs an absolute and energetic power to
keep it in order. They advised the Genevese to lay aside their fine
theories, their old parchments, and their ancient franchises, and to
take a master if they desired to see peace, wealth, pleasure, and
prosperity abound within their walls.

The citizens rejected this advice. They believed that as the liberties
they possessed came from their fathers, they ought not to rob their
children of them. They knew that independence had dangers, privations,
and troubles to which they must submit. But life itself is not without
them, and we should not think that a reason for making away with it. If
God has enriched man with noble faculties, it is not that he may
mutilate or stifle them, but develop, regulate, and increase them. No
man worthy of the name voluntarily accepts laws in the making of which
he has had no share. Cæsarism, violence, and secret societies cannot be
substituted in a nation for independence, justice, and publicity.
Despotism dwarfs a man, liberty strengthens him. To take it away in
order to prevent abuses, is to change the work and plan of the Creator.

And yet everything seemed to indicate that liberty and reform were about
to be destroyed in Geneva. An assembly of the Swiss Cantons held, as we
have seen, at Lucerne on the 1st of January, 1535, had been occupied
about Geneva; and Berne, the only canton that wished well to the
Genevese, had consented that the bishop and the duke should be
reinstated in the rights which they pretended to possess, provided
religion remained free; for, the Bernese had added, 'faith is the gift
of God.' But the envoys of Savoy had demanded the complete and
unconditional recognition of the absolute authority of the duke and the
bishop, which alone (they affirmed) could put an end to all hatred and
effusion of blood.[473] The diet had decided on this, so that the
reformation and independence of Geneva were about to be annihilated by
the Swiss themselves.

[Sidenote: HUGUENOT MAGISTRATES ELECTED.]

But it is when men draw back that help is nearest. If all were resolved,
outside of Geneva, to destroy its Reformation, the small phalanx of
citizens within its walls was not less resolved to uphold it. Three
parties called for it alike. The old huguenots wanted it to be
immediate, violent even if necessary; the magistrates wished it to be
legal, slow, and diplomatic; and the evangelicals desired it to be
spiritual and peaceably accomplished by the Word of God. There were many
pious souls in the houses of people of mark, as well as in obscure
dwellings, who cried to God day and night for the triumph of the good
cause. That little city of 12,000 souls had determined to resist the
powers who wanted to crush it. Without hesitation, without fear, Geneva
trusted in God and marched onwards. The period (7th of February) having
arrived at which the magistrates were elected every year, the Genevese
resolutely voted to the first offices of the state the friends of
independence and reform.[474] Among the councillors there were also some
of the most decided huguenots.[475] With such men—with Farel, Viret, and
Froment within its walls, and with the Divine protection, the
transformation of Geneva seemed imminent, notwithstanding the efforts of
Switzerland, Piedmont, the emperor, and the pope.

The government party desired to precipitate nothing; they intended to
conciliate opposite opinions, and to seek a certain middle course which
would satisfy everybody; but the cause of the Reformation and of liberty
fermented in many hearts. Those waters, which the magistrates would have
desired to see motionless, were strongly agitated, and the Roman ship,
already dismasted, might be suddenly engulfed. Almost every day some
citizen, some woman, or even some monk, left the Church of the pope and
entered the Church of the Gospel; or else some foreign Christian, who
had forsaken everything to obey his conscience, entered the free city,
principally by the gate of France. Those pious refugees were received
like brothers. People gathered round them, looked at them, and
questioned them. The strangers told how they had waged a bitter war,
endured vile reproaches, wept much and groaned much; but the annoyances
they had suffered (they added) appeared light, now that they had found
deliverance and liberty. The Christians of Geneva were strengthened by
the faith of these noble confessors of Jesus Christ. The reforming
torrent increased, it was seen rushing against the weakened barriers.
The Roman-catholics both from without and within vainly endeavored to
check it; it was about to sweep away the worm-eaten timbers of
popery.[476] The council, however, seemed motionless. The ardent
Bandière was pushing forward, the catholic Philippin was holding back;
but the halfway opinions of the chief syndic and of Du Molard finally
prevailed.

The moderate party agreed that some concession ought to be made to the
evangelical party, if they wished to remain in office. A good
opportunity occurred of realizing this plan. They discovered a gray
friar who offered to preach the Word of God, while wearing the hood of
St. Francis. To give a mitigated Gospel, under a Roman form, is the plan
ordinarily chosen by those who have set peace before truth. One or two
days after the election of syndics, the cordelier, supported by the
council, asked the Chapter for a place to preach in. The canons, who
were a little mistrustful, examined him: he wore the brown frock of St.
Francis, and a cord served him for a girdle. Still they feared there was
something underneath. 'Go to the vicar-episcopal, who lives at Gex,'
they said. The 'evangelical monk' did so; but the vicar also regarded
him with an uneasy look. 'My lord bishop,' he answered, 'will soon come
to Geneva; he will bring with him whatever preacher he likes.' The poor
Franciscan came back and told the council that they had bowed him out
everywhere. Two councillors now waited upon the Chapter to support the
monk's petition; when some of them, who lived as canons do, as idly as
can be imagined, suddenly found that they had their hands full. 'We have
to read the service,' they answered, 'and it is so long! and then there
is other work to do; there is the procession, in which we must walk in
order. We have not the time to think about preaching! Make the best
arrangement you can.' The council was disgusted. To bawl out litanies,
that was a pressing matter; but to have the Word of God preached was a
supererogatory work. 'Well then,' said the offended syndics to the monk,
'we will give you a place ourselves,' and they assigned him the church
of St. Germain, situated in a district devoted to catholicism. This was
Saturday, 12th of February, the eve of the first Sunday in Lent.[477]

The report of this decision threw the catholics of the parish into
confusion, and there were violent scenes in many a household. The women
were beside themselves; they abused their husbands, called them cowards,
and enjoined them to oppose the monk's sermon. One of them, by name
Pernette, was distinguished in this opposition. Small, fat,
short-legged, and with her head between the shoulders, she was so like a
ball that they called her in the city _Touteronde_.[478] But a restless
spirit agitated her little body, and a big voice came out of it.
Pernette bestirred herself, plotted in-doors, shouted in the streets,
and at last went to see the parish-priest.

The priest of St. Germain and bishop's procurator-fiscal was Thomas
Vandel, brother of Robert, Pierre, and Hugues. He was an undecided
character, disposed to walk like his brothers in the way of
independence, but close ties attached him to the bishop, and he
hesitated. Divided in heart, he was continually driven backwards and
forwards by opposing sentiments.

For the moment, thanks to the efforts of certain canons and noble
ladies, the wind at the parsonage was favorable for the papacy. Certain
huguenots, however, were just then speaking in a loud voice; and Vandel,
unwilling to pronounce for either side, threw the burden on the
principal members of his parish, by requesting them to present a
petition to the council.

[Sidenote: A RIOT IN CHURCH.]

On Sunday morning a little before the hour at which the monk was to
preach, the deputation proceeded to the hôtel-de-ville. The members were
really speaking for their wives. There was no question of heresy. 'We
fear that there may be a disturbance,' they said, 'and therefore beg to
have our usual service.' The syndics answered, 'You will hear the
preacher. If he preaches well, he shall stay; but if he preaches any
novelty, anything contrary to Holy Scripture, he will be expelled.'
Accordingly the priest had it announced in the church that the monk
would preach _by order of the council_. The women and a few men returned
to their homes much irritated. An insurrection was at once organized; a
clerical partisan collected a number of the parishioners about him in
the street and shouted out, 'Shut the church doors against the gray
friar.' Pernette, who was there, went home, caught up a great wooden
pestle with which she used to pound salt,[479] and brandishing it like a
club, marched fiercely to the combat. A great number of women, among
whom were some of rather questionable morality, surrounded her, crying,
'The Lutherans want to give us a preacher. Oh, the dogs, the dogs!'
Pernette raised her pestle and declared she would brain the first
heretic who dared approach the pulpit. Her bellicose companions followed
her, entered the church, drew up in battle-array, and waited for the
enemy. Directly the cordelier appeared, they began to make a great
uproar,[480] and rushed in front of him, shouting and tossing their arms
and their weapons. Pernette got on a chair, and brandished the pestle
over their heads. The Reformed who had entered the doors gathered round
the preacher, crying, 'Forward, courage!' and made a way for the monk,
who, little by little, reached the foot of the pulpit. 'Then,' says
sister Jeanne de Jussie, 'that apostate from St. Francis, who still wore
the robe of the holy order, began to preach in the heretical
fashion.'[481] But as soon as the Franciscan opened his mouth, Pernette
gave the signal by raising her pestle, and immediately the bigots of
both sexes made such an uproar that the cordelier was compelled to be
silent.

The council, unwilling to see their orders defied, took proceedings
against the rioters. The friend of the priests who had prompted the
insurrection lost his citizenship; Pernette was condemned to a few days'
imprisonment on bread and water; and two other women of loose conduct
were banished from the city. From that time the cordelier preached in
peace; and the _curé_ seeing which way the wind was blowing, graciously
received him into his own house. Before long he began to have a liking
for the monk's opinions, and appeared to range himself on the side of
the Gospel.[482]

This victory—as was natural—precipitated the movement of the Reformation
in Geneva. Easter day was kept with much fervor by the friends of the
Gospel. They went in considerable numbers to the Lord's table, which was
spread at the Rive convent. Husbands accompanied their wives; the young
guided the old. Some huguenots, who probably were not among the
communicants, wishing to prove to the catholics, that although they were
in the last days of Holy Week, the bells had not made a journey to Rome,
as the priests led the superstitious people to believe, rang them in
loud peals on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, says sister Jeanne.[483]
The fanatical adversaries of the Reformation, exasperated by this
progress, were about to take a cruel revenge.

[Sidenote: THE PIOUS KNIGHT OF RHODES.]

Gaudet of St. Cloud, near Paris, a pious man and formerly knight of
Rhodes,[484] saw with joy this active movement of Reform. Accordingly,
he had left his uncle, the Commander of Rhodes, Sire Loys Brunis de
Compésières, a man heartily devoted to the pope, and had gone and
settled in Geneva with his wife and household. The city of the huguenots
was specially adapted to offer a refuge to the exiles. Then, at least,
there was no exclusive aristocracy; every individuality had its place.
Any one might by his intelligence and energy take his seat among the
notables. Gaudet, touched by these liberal manners, and edified by the
zeal with which Farel and the other ministers scattered the true
doctrine of the Son of God amidst great difficulties,[485] lived happily
in Geneva, heard the preaching and even preached himself, which seemed
extraordinary in a knight of Rhodes. One day a Genevese Roman-catholic,
visiting the Commander of Compésières, told him what his nephew was
doing. When Sire Loys heard that the knight of Rhodes was turning
heretic and preacher, he resolved to get him out of so dangerous a city,
and to that end gave his visitor a letter in which Gaudet was invited to
go to Gex, where he would find important news from Paris. Gaudet set
off. It was not an easy thing at that time to make this journey.
Genevese mamelukes, Savoyard knights, and other brigands filled the
castle of Peney. Perched on the walls, they kept watch on all the
surrounding country, and as soon as they perceived a traveller, they
swooped down upon their prey, and carried him off to their eyrie. Their
brigandage was the chief topic of conversation in all the country round.
'On the 9th of February of this year,' people said at Geneva, 'three
cordeliers and two printers, all disciples of the Gospel, who had come
from France and were journeying hither, were carried away from the inn
at which they had halted by twelve arquebusiers from Peney. A little
later another Frenchman was taken, tortured, and hanged. Between the 1st
and 5th of April several Genevans were taken to the castle with their
hands tied behind them like criminals. A huguenot, condemned, without
proof, of having helped to drive the bishop out of Geneva, was torn limb
from limb by horses in the courtyard at Peney. The garrison of that
castle creates continual alarm night and day; and carries off cattle,
goods, and even men, women and children.'[486] Such savage acts were of
a nature to prevent Gaudet from acting upon his uncle's invitation; but
a knight of Rhodes knows no fear. He reached Gex on the 22d of June
without hindrance, and departed the next morning. He was travelling
without suspicion when some armed men pounced upon him and carried him
off to the castle of Peney.

[Sidenote: THE KNIGHT CRUELLY TORTURED.]

The fanatics who had taken up their abode there, tried to bring Gaudet
back to the teaching of Rome; but as their efforts were useless, they
took other means which doubtless were not to be found in his uncle's
instructions. They kept him for about five days in great torment.[487]
'If you will recant,' they said, 'your life shall be spared.' But the
ex-knight knew that we have to fight continually, and he had the
doctrine of salvation too deeply engraved in his heart to forget it. 'He
remained constant,' say the chroniclers, 'supporting the cause of the
Gospel.' The men of Peney had not expected this. In their eyes Gaudet's
firmness was criminal obstinacy, and they resolved 'to put him to the
cruellest death ever heard of in this country.'[488] They determined
that he should be 'burnt alive over a slow fire, for having settled at
Geneva, for having attended sermons, and heard and preached the Gospel.'
That was his crime. Wishing to let their neighbors enjoy a spectacle so
worthy of being seen, the gentlemen invited the peasantry of the
neighborhood, men, women, and children, to be present. Gaudet was
brought from his dungeon, and taken into the castle yard, which was
filled with spectators, and there fastened to a post. One of the
Peneysans brought some embers and placed them 'neatly' under his feet;
when the soles of his feet were burnt, the fire was removed and passed
in succession over the different parts of the body. But the Christian
knight remained firm. He knew that when God puts his Holy Spirit into a
man, he cannot fail, although the heavens should fall. His cruel
torturers showed as much determination as he did. They said that Gaudet
was a member of that famous order of St. John of Jerusalem founded in
the Holy Land, placed under the protection of the holy see, and which
had defended with so much glory the Cross against the Crescent. The
knowledge that one of its knights had joined the heretics, that he had
even become a preacher, transported them with fury. Seeing that their
burning coals did nothing, they tied the disciple of the Gospel to a
pillar, stood round him with their arms, and, more cruel than the Red
Indians, began to prick him all over with their spears and
halberds.[489] Gaudet, forgivingly, blessed his enemies. 'You are
putting me to death,' he said, 'because I have preached the Word of God.
I call to the God of mercy, and pray that He will pardon the sufferings
you inflict upon me.'[490]

The martyr was visibly sinking, but he ceased not to invoke the name of
Christ; and 'that invocation,' says the chronicler, 'brought him
alleviation in his bitter torments.' He had put his hope in the
faithfulness of the unseen God. The punishment and the joy of the martyr
had a different effect upon the spectators from what had been expected.
They were seized with horror; they uttered deep sighs, and 'departed
weeping and groaning to their homes, being grieved at such an
outrage.'[491] At length Gaudet, exhausted, rendered up his soul to God,
two days after he had been fastened to the pillar. Geneva, who had had
her martyrs of liberty, now had her martyrs of faith.[492]

[Sidenote: ATTACK ON PENEY.]

So cruel an action revolted every heart. The priests said: 'It will do
us more mischief than twenty of Farel's sermons.' The huguenots
exclaimed that the brigands' nest must be destroyed. The relatives of
the citizens confined in it feared lest they should meet with Gaudet's
fate, and called for their deliverance. The council met one night after
supper, the gates of the city being already closed, and the attack of
Peney was proposed. They were reminded, in vain, 'that it contained old
soldiers, men tried in war, and that the castle was strong and well
supplied with artillery.' Gaudet's cruel punishment carried the day: the
proposal for attacking was voted. The herald passed through the dark
streets, with orders that every man, bearing arms, should go to his
muster-place without delay. A force of nearly five hundred men and two
pieces of artillery left the city. About an hour after midnight, the
little army was under the walls of the fortress. All was quiet:
everybody was asleep. Unfortunately, the ladders had not yet arrived,
and the Genevese, fearing they would be observed if the assault was
deferred, pointed their cannons and fired a shot. The men-at-arms in the
castle were aroused: at first they imagined they were taken, says the
chronicler; but recovered themselves before long. Some rang the
alarm-bell to call their friends from outside, others ran to the
ramparts. Renouncing their idea of scaling the walls, the Genevese aimed
their cannons at the gate and battered it down; the Peneysans
immediately set up another. Bullets and cannonballs rained on the
besiegers, the walls seemed on fire. Some of the Genevese fell where
they stood; others, who were wounded, retired out of gunshot, and sat
down mournfully by the road-side. At this moment it was reported that M.
de Lugrin, who commanded at Gex, was approaching with his troops. As the
Genevans were about to be caught between two fires, the commanders
ordered a retreat.

Everybody crowded to the gates to receive the discomfited force. What a
disaster! women looking for their husbands, mothers for their sons!
'What remedy can be found for the ills that now oppress us?' was the
cry. The voices of the Reformers revived their drooping spirits, and
said: 'God will do other and greater things. He will deliver you from
your enemies, but by other means which you do not understand, in order
that the honor may be entirely paid to Him, and not to your human
enterprises and artillery.'[493] The Genevans neglected nothing for
their defence. They took the bells from the convents and cast them into
cannon; they cleared away the walls of the faubourgs which still
existed; they established a permanent force to protect the open country
and seek provisions; and, finally, sent away the traitors whom they
found in the city. They trusted in God, but they wished to be ready for
battle.

[473] _Archives générales du royaume d'Italie à Turin._—Genève, paquet
14.

[474] The four syndics were A. Chicand, the intrepid huguenot Ami
Bandière, Hudriod du Molard, and Jean Philippin: the last only, who was
chosen from a feeling of equity, inclined to the catholic side.

[475] A. Porral, J. Philippe, F. Favre, S. Coquet, d'Adda, Cl. Savoye,
J. Lullin, and Et. de Chapeaurouge.

[476] Registres du Conseil des 7 et 8 Février 1525.—Froment, _Gestes le
Genève_, p. 131

[477] Registres du Conseil du 12 Février 1535.

[478] Roundabout.

[479] 'Unum pictonem nemoreum.' (Lawyer's Latin.) Registres du Conseil
du 14 Février 1535.

[480] Registres du Conseil du 14 Février 1535.

[481] _Commencement de l'Hérésie dans Genève_, p. 105.

[482] Registres du Conseil des 13, 14, 21 Février et 6 Mars.

[483] _Commencement de l'Hérésie_, pp. 106 and 108.

[484] See Vol. IV. book vii. ch. 10.

[485] Crespin, _Actes des Martyrs_, art. P. Gaudet, p. 114.

[486] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 172.

[487] Crespin, _Martyrologue_, p. 114.

[488] 'Dont onques on ouyt parler en ce pays.'

[489] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 173.

[490] Letter from the Council of Geneva to Porral, ambassador at Berne,
29th June, 1535.

[491] 'S'en alloynt, pleurant et gémissant en leurs maysons, estant
marrys d'ung tel oultraige.'

[492] Registres du Conseil du 29 Juin 1525.—Crespin, _Actes des
Martyrs_, p. 114.—Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 173.

[493] Registres du Conseil des 4, 7, 10, 17, 18, Mai 1535.—Froment,
_Gestes de Genève_, pp. 177, 178.—Jeanne de Jussie, _Commencement de
l'Hérésie dans Genève_, pp. 114, 115.




 CHAPTER II.
 POISONING OF THE REFORMERS—CONVERSION OF THE HEAD OF THE FRANCISCANS.
 (SPRING, 1535.)


[Sidenote: ULTRAMONTANE PLOTS.]

The ultramontanes were more zealous than ever. Many would only employ
lawful arms; but there were some who were by no means scrupulous as to
the means adopted to vanquish the enemies of Rome. Fanatics make a false
conscience for themselves, and then look upon culpable actions as good
ones. Empire was slipping from the hands of the Church; it must, at any
cost, be restored to her, thought the extravagant Roman-catholics of
Geneva. Canon Gruet, in particular—his _famulus_, Gardet the priest, and
Barbier, in the service of the bishop of Maurienne, thought that, as
neither duke, bishop, nor mameluke could do anything, other means must
be devised to check that furious torrent which threatened to sweep away
papacy, temples, priests, and images. Fanatics, whom the wise men of
catholicism are unanimous in condemning, were plotting in the dark and
muttering softly that as Farel, Viret, and Froment were all living in
the same house, they could easily be got rid of at one blow. Some
inkling of these guilty designs got abroad, and the Reformers were
warned to be on their guard; but such plots did not trouble them. 'If we
were all three dead,' said Froment, 'God would soon raise up others. Out
of stones can He not raise up children unto Abraham?' The work of
darkness began.[494]

There lived in Geneva at that time a married woman and mother of a
family, Antonia Vax by name; she was of quick perception, melancholy
temperament, enthusiastic imagination, weak rather than depraved. In
those days poison was much used; Bonivard had often related, 'how pope
Alexander VI., wishing to have the money and benefices of two or three
cardinals, had drunk in mistake from the flagon in which stood the
poisoned wine, and had been caught in his own trap.' Antonia had seen
poison employed. When in service at Lyons, nine years before, she had
remarked that one of her companions always carried with him a little box
piously covered with an _Agnus Dei_: 'It contains sublimate,' he had
told her. More than once after this, when the unfortunate woman, of dark
and dreamy temperament, felt the vapors rise to her brain, she had cried
out: 'How wretched I am! how I should like to be out of this world! If I
only had some sublimate!' At Bourg she had seen her mistress, in
complicity with a Spanish doctor, give her husband poison; and entering
afterwards the household of an illustrious family, the Seigneur de
Challe, nephew to the bishop of Maurienne, she had seen her master
poison his mother's husband. After this Antonia came to Geneva with her
husband and children.[495]

[Sidenote: ANTONIA AND THE PRIESTS.]

Barbier, one of the chief instigators of the plot, had known Antonia
when she was in M. de Challe's service. On his return from a conference
held at Thonon, he cast his eyes upon her to carry out the guilty
designs formed by him and his accomplices. At Geneva, as in England, it
was a woman whom the misguided priests selected to strike the blow which
they hoped would destroy the Reformation. Neither of those wretched
women was deprived of all moral sentiment; but the heated imaginations
of the maid of Kent and of Antonia, and their unhealthy sensibility,
made them embrace enthusiastically the schemes of wicked and crafty men.
Barbier accosted the woman Vax, spoke to her of the preachers, and of
the ills which threatened Holy Church; and when he thought he had
sufficiently prepared the ground, he represented to her the great
service she would do to religion, if she freed Geneva from the heretics.
'If any suspicions should be aroused,' he added, 'you will only have to
remove to Canon Gruet's, secretary to Monseigneur of Maurienne.' Antonia
hesitated. Some monks of the abbey of Ambournay, in Bresse, whom she had
known, and who were then at Geneva, got round her, and endeavored to
persuade her that such an action would merit the glory of heaven. She
appeared sensible to their persuasions, and yet the deed was repugnant
to her. To decide her, Barbier took her to D'Orsière, a canon held in
great esteem. 'Act, act boldly,' said the canon; 'you need not be
anxious.' The unhappy woman yielded.[496]

The next step was to prepare the means: by representing her as a poor
woman who fled to Geneva for the Gospel, they contrived to get her
admitted into Claude Bernard's house, where Farel, Viret, and Froment
lodged. Bernard's heart was touched, and he engaged Antonia to wait upon
his three guests, who took their meals apart. She knew so well how to
play her part, that she was in fact regarded as one of the more fervent
seekers of the Gospel. To procure poison was not difficult: she had
lived for some time with Michael Vallot, the apothecary, and continued
to go there. One day she paid him a visit, and, at a propitious moment,
caught up some poison in a box and ran away.

When the poison was in her hands, she had still (as it would appear) a
moment of uneasiness; but the wretches, whose tool she was, pressed her
to deliver Geneva from heresy. Accordingly, on the 8th of March,
Antonia, taking courage, prepared some spinach soup, which she made very
thick, for fear the poison should be noticed, threw in the sublimate,
and, entering the room where Farel, Viret, and Froment were at table,
put the deadly broth before them. Farel looked at it, found it too thick
for his taste, and, though he had no suspicion, asked for some household
soup. Froment, less dainty than Farel, had taken the spoon, and was
about to lift it to his mouth, when some one came in and informed him
that his wife and children had just arrived in Geneva. He rose hastily,
'leaving everything,' and ran off to meet them. Viret was left, still
pale and suffering from the sword-cut he had received from a priest near
Payerne. The perfidious Antonia had told him that she would make him
some soup 'good for his stomach,' and he therefore ate tranquilly the
food she had 'dressed to kill him.'[497]

The crime was accomplished. If the good providence of God had
miraculously saved two of the evangelists, the third was to all
appearance lost. At this moment the wretched woman suddenly became
agitated; her conscience reproached her with her crime; and bursting
into tears, she ran hurriedly to the kitchen, where she began to moan.
'What is the matter with you?' asked her companions: but she made no
answer. Unable to resist her remorse, and believing pure water to be a
good antidote to the poison, she formed the resolution of saving her
victim, poured some water into a glass, hurried up-stairs, and desired
Viret to drink it. The latter was astonished, and wanted at least to
know the reason of such a request. She refused to tell him, but did not
cease begging him until he had drunk. Froment, much irritated against
the woman, regarded her emotion as 'mere crocodile's tears;' he says so
in his Chronicle. We are inclined to believe them sincere.

[Sidenote: FLIGHT OF ANTONIA.]

Viret became ill, and his friends were heart-broken. 'Alas!' said
Froment, 'we expect death for him, and not life.' People asked the cause
of this sudden illness, and Antonia, suspected of knowing something
about it, was seized with terror. She felt herself already caught and
sentenced. 'I know very well that it is no _sport_,' she exclaimed. Her
imagination was heated; she went to the house where her children lived,
and, taking the youngest in her arms, leading a second by the hand, the
others following her, she ran with alarm to the shore of the lake,
wishing to escape, and her little ones with her. 'Take me away from the
city,' she said to the boatmen. They carried her as far as Coppet, about
three leagues off. Claude Bernard and one or two of his friends, who had
reasons for mistrusting the woman, jumped into a boat, and, having found
her, brought her back. They did not, however, charge her with anything;
but her conscience accused her: her agitation kept increasing during the
passage; and her haggard eyes were fixed upon her old master, his
friends, and the boatmen. 'You are betraying me,' she said: 'you are
playing me a trick.' At length they arrived. Antonia got out of the boat
first, and while Bernard and his friends were occupied in landing the
children, she slipped away lightly, plunged into a dark alley between
the Molard and the Fusterie, hurried through it, climbed the Rue de la
Pélisserie, and reached the house of Canon D'Orsière, who had said to
her: 'Act, act boldly, you need not be anxious.'—'Save me!' she
exclaimed. The canon hid her in his cellar. But some people had seen a
woman pass hurriedly along: the officers of justice searched the canon's
house, found Antonia crouching in a dark underground cellar, and took
her away to prison, where she confessed everything.

Meanwhile Viret was in peril of death, and, as there was no woman at
Bernard's to tend him, Dame Pernette, a pious Christian, and wife of the
councillor Michael Balthasard, begged that he might be removed to her
house, which was done. Froment, who went to see him often, said:
'Really, Dame Pernette is doing him a great service, and showing him
great kindness.' One doctor said he was poisoned, another denied it. The
whole city was filled with the affair: men and women assembled and
expressed their sorrow. 'Must the Church be robbed of such a pearl,'
they said, 'by such a miserable creature?... Poor Viret! Poor
reformers!... Sword-cuts in the back, poison in front.... Such are the
rewards of those who preach the Gospel!' Viret was saved, but he felt
the effects of the poison all his life.[498]

The investigation began on the 13th of April. Antonia was not of a
character to conceal her crime: the _vénéfique_, as they called the
poisoner, declared openly she was led into it by the 'round caps (the
clergy).'[499] The priests, and even the canon who had ruined her, were
arrested and taken to prison. A canon arrested by laymen! All the clergy
were in commotion: Aimé de Gingins, the bishop's vicar-general,
represented to the syndics that a canon ought not to be imprisoned by
anybody, not being a subject of the State, but only of the chapter. The
magistrates declared that the investigation of criminal matters belonged
to them, and the priests were forced to submit to be tried according to
the common law—a great innovation in the sixteenth century.

[Sidenote: EXECUTION OF ANTONIA.]

Antonia was condemned to have her head cut off, her body hung on the
gibbet of Champel, and her head fixed on a nail. At first she remained
firm. 'Take care, my lords,' she said, 'that your servants do not poison
you, for there are many who practise it.' But when she had returned to
prison, she became quite prostrated. Pale and speechless, she rolled her
haggard eyes around her. It was still worse when she was led to the
place of execution. Her mind wandered: she was like one of those
personages spoken of in antiquity, who were said to be pursued by the
Furies. Although surrounded by an immense crowd, she did not observe it:
her eyes seemed fixed on some mysterious beings. She fancied she saw the
priests of Geneva and the monks of Ambournay standing round her. 'Take
them away, take them away!' she exclaimed, waving her hand; and as the
guards showed by their looks of astonishment that they did not know what
she meant, 'Take them away,' she resumed, pointing with her finger at
what she believed she saw; 'in heaven's name take away those
_round-caps_ who are before me; ... it is they who are the cause of my
death!' Having mounted the scaffold, she cried out again in great
anguish: 'Take them away!' and her head fell.[500] She paid dearly for
her crime—a crime too frequent in those days, when fanatics thought it
their duty to serve by violence the cause which they said was the cause
of God. The adversaries of the Reformation, in the countries which it
reached, have too frequently employed the arms of iniquity against it.

The guilty project of getting rid of the three Reformers at once had the
opposite consequences to what its authors had hoped. The atrocity of the
attempt increased the love of the people for the Reform, and detracted
greatly from the reputation of the priests. The most sinister reports
were circulated about them. It was said that they had tried to poison
the bread and wine of the Lord's Supper, in order to cut off all the
reformed at a blow. People shrank from them in the streets as they
passed, as if their simple approach could inflict death.[501]

All Geneva was in commotion: a transformation of that little state
became imminent. At this time ambitious popes and despotic princes
exercised absolute power. Two kinds of enfranchisement were necessary
for Christendom: that of the nation and that of the Church. The Genevese
sought after both: some rallied round the banner of faith, others round
that of liberty; but the more enlightened minds saw that these two holy
causes should never be separated; and that the political awakening of a
nation can only succeed so far as the awakening of the conscience tends
to prevent disorder.[502] In no country, perhaps, were these two
movements so simultaneous as in Geneva. Certain natural phenomena are
studied in microscopic animalcules: a moral phenomenon may be
illustrated in the history of this small city which may be enunciated in
these words: 'He who desires to be free must believe.'[503]

The Gospel, however, was not as yet triumphant. While the
Roman-catholics always had their parishes, their churches, and numerous
priests, the reformed had but one place of worship, and three ministers.
Such a state of things could not last long. An important event occurred
to hasten the victory of the Gospel and of liberty.

[Sidenote: JACQUES BERNARD CONVERTED.]

At the very moment when a pious reformer was descending near to the
gates of death, the head of the Franciscans in Geneva was taking the new
road 'that leadeth unto life.' The three brothers Bernard—Claude, the
elder, in whose house the reformers received a Christian hospitality;
Louis, priest of St. Pierre; and Jacques, guardian or superior of the
Franciscan convent—were among the most notable citizens of Geneva. The
two elder had for some time embraced the Reform; but the third, a monk,
had remained a zealot for popery. Ere long he himself was shaken. Seeing
the three ministers closely at his brother Claude's, he learnt by their
life to esteem their doctrine, and their virtues struck him so much the
more, as he had lived in popery a life by no means regular himself. He
examined himself seriously whether he would not do well to renounce
monasticism.[504] The light of the Gospel began to shine into his heart.
Nothing struck him so much as the thought that Christ, in his great
love, had procured for his followers by his death a _perfect_
reconciliation with God. The character which popery ascribed to the mass
appeared to him to do injury to the infinite price of the Saviour's
passion. 'I am convinced,' said he to Farel, at the end of one of their
conversations. 'I am one of you!'—'Good!' answered the reformer, 'but if
faith is kindled in your heart, it is necessary that the light should be
shown abroad. Confess your faith publicly before men.' Jacques was
determined not to spare himself, and not only to declare for the Gospel,
but, further, to endeavor to make it known to his fellow-citizens. He
posted up bills on February 19th, that during Lent he would preach every
afternoon in the convent church.

This was something new: a numerous crowd filled the place. 'Men and
women, catholics and Lutherans, crowded in,' says the nun of Ste.
Claire, 'and that during all the first week.' Some fancied that the
guardian was going to thunder against the Reform; but all doubts were
soon dispersed. He spoke, and the astonishment was universal. The
reformed were surprised at seeing one who formerly had rejected so
rudely the grace of Christ, now rushing like a common soldier into the
midst of the battle and defending it. The catholics were still more
amazed. 'This scandalized them so much,' adds the sister, 'that they
never went afterwards.'[505] It seemed impossible to come to an
understanding, and the confusion continued increasing.

How could they get out of a struggle which looked as if it would never
end? There appeared one very natural means which does honor to the epoch
in which men had recourse to it. The magistrates of the sixteenth
century, whether in Switzerland or elsewhere, studied their charters
when there was a question of establishing what was right, and
assimilated the principles which had dictated them. But their love of
the right was not a platonic love, as among enervated jurists. These
notable men wished to realize in the government of the people what was
in its constitution. Now if the book of the _Liberties, Franchises,
Immunities, Uses, and Customs_ of Geneva was the charter of the state,
the _Holy Scriptures_ were the charter of the Church: the Bible was the
grand muniment of their spiritual franchises. Nothing must be decided,
therefore, except by this sovereign rule.[506] While such thoughts
occupied the syndics, the same desire animated the Reformers. 'We will
forfeit our lives,' they said, 'if we do not prove by Holy Scripture
that what we preach is true.' A conference, at which, with the divine
charter before them, the faith, duties, and rights of Christians should
be established, seemed the wisest way of getting out of the difficulty.

[Sidenote: A PUBLIC DISCUSSION DEMANDED.]

One thing stopped the members of the council: they were reluctant that
foreigners—two Frenchmen and a Vaudois—should be at the head of the
disputation. Farel respected such a feeling, and desired that the name
of an old Genevan should be inscribed first in Geneva on the list of the
Reformation. He went to Jacques Bernard: 'Brother,' said he, 'it is
necessary that your change of life should turn to the edification of the
people.[507] Write down some propositions; announce that you are ready
to answer all men in a public disputation, and defend your theses by
clear and manifest reasons. They would refuse us this favor, for we are
foreigners; but you are a citizen of Geneva,[508] and superior of an
important order. They will grant your request.' The recent epoch of
Bernard's conversion, his want of Christian experience, the annoyances,
the dangers to which he would be exposed, might have induced him to
refuse this demand. But he knew that in the new life on which he had
entered, the rule was, that every one, forgetful of himself, should work
for the good of others; and that with regard to his insufficiency, God
would provide. The head of the Cordeliers asked the council's permission
to maintain publicly the evangelical doctrine in a conference to which
all the learned in the city and abroad should be invited. The syndics,
who desired that the Reformation should be accomplished by reason and
not by force, granted his prayer, and everything was got ready for this
important action. For a long time Geneva had seen the parties armed from
head to foot, crossing their swords and halberds: now minds were to be
ranged in battle-array, and the spiritual combat would, to all
appearance, decide the future of the Reformation.

[494] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 94.

[495] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 95.—Le Curé Besson, _Mémoires du
Diocèse de Genève et de Maurienne_, p. 303.—Sommaire des aveux d'Antoina
(Archives de Berne). Gaberel, i., Pièces, p. 80.

[496] Sommaire de ce que la poisonnière a confessé entre les mains de la
justice. (Archives de Berne.)—Gaberel, Pièces, p. 80.

[497] Sommaire de ce que la poisonnière a confessé entre les mains de la
justice. (Archives de Berne.)—Gaberel, Pièces, p. 80.

[498] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, pp. 104, 105.—Chron. MSC. de Roset,
liv. iii. ch. 21.

[499] Chron. MSC. de Roset.

[500] Registres du Conseil du 14 Juillet 1535.—Archives de
Berne.—Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 95.—Chron. MSC. de Roset,
liv. iii. ch. 21.

[501] Registres du Conseil des 20 Avril, 7 Mai, 30 Août 1535.

[502] 'Nullum libertati publicæ, nisi in civibus evangelicis,
præsidium.'—_Geneva Restituta_, p. 77.

[503] M. de Tocqueville.

[504] 'Bernardus cogitabat de exuenda cuculla.'—Farel to Calvin, _Epp.
Calv._ p. 77.

[505] Jeanne de Jussie, _Commencement de l'Hérésie dans Genève_, p.
106.—Lettre de Farel à Calvin.

[506] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, pp. 131, 135.

[507] 'Parum est nisi cum ædificatione majori id faceret.'—Farellus
Calvino.

[508] 'Bernardus civis erat.'—_Ibid._




 CHAPTER III.
 PREPARATION FOR A PUBLIC DISPUTATION AT GENEVA.
 (FROM APRIL TO WHITSUNTIDE, 1535.)


[Sidenote: THE TEN PROPOSITIONS.]

Jacques Bernard and the Reformers had a meeting for the purpose of
drawing up their propositions. The justifying power of faith was to hold
the first place, for, according to the Gospel, man must, before
everything, condemn the selfish existence he has lived until the moment
of his awakening, and place all his confidence in the redemption
accomplished by Jesus Christ alone. The theses drawn up by the Reformers
were as follows:—

I. _Man must seek justification for his sins in Jesus Christ_
ALONE.[509]

II. _Religious worship must be paid to God_ ALONE.

III. _The constitution of the Church must be regulated by the Word of
God_ ALONE.

IV. _The atonement for sins must be ascribed to Christ's sacrifice,
offered up_ ONCE, _and which procures full and entire remission_.

V. _We must acknowledge_ ONE ONLY _Mediator between God and man—Jesus
Christ_.

The fault of Rome had been to add to the Gospel many strange dogmas and
ceremonies, and place them above the primitive edifice, stage after
stage, pile after pile, thus crushing it: this is indeed the proper
meaning conveyed by the word superstition. The Reformers aspired to pull
down this framework, and liberate Christian truth from all the fables by
which it was disfigured. Hence, as we see, the word _alone_ plays a
great part in this disputation. Its object was to exclude all human
additions and to exalt God alone, Christ alone, the Gospel alone. These
propositions, however, did not entirely satisfy Farel. In his opinion it
was necessary, after laying down truths, to point out errors. Five
negative theses were, therefore, added to the five positive theses:—

VI. _It is wrong to put our trust in good works and look for our
justification in them._

VII. _To worship saints and images is to be guilty of idolatry._

VIII. _Hence our traditions and ecclesiastical (or rather Roman)
constitutions are not only useless but pernicious._

IX. _The sacrifice of the mass, and prayers to the dead or for them, are
a sin against the Word of God, and men are wrong to look to them for
salvation._

X. _The intercession of saints was introduced into the Church by the
authority of men and not of God._

These propositions seem to us now mere theological formulæ: they were
more than that. There was the true spirit in them. 'There are different
ways of speaking,' said the friend[510] to whom Farel wrote an account
of this disputation; 'the roaring of a lion is different from the
braying of an ass.' There was indeed in these theses, destined to throw
down a whole world of errors, the formidable 'roaring of a lion.'

On the 23d of April Jacques Bernard went to the hôtel-de-ville and
presented his propositions to the council, who authorized him to defend
them, and desired him to inform the members of the chapter of St. Pierre
and other priests, monks, and doctors.[511] At Constance, freedom of
discussion had been suppressed; and that assembly, therefore, had
produced no other light than the flames of the scaffold. It was not thus
that the Reformation was to advance. 'Let the truth appear and triumph!'

The theses were immediately distributed in all the churches and
monasteries of the city. No worshipper crossed the threshold of the
sanctuary without receiving one of the printed handbills. The superior
of the Franciscans waited personally upon the canons and presented each
of them with a copy of the propositions. He gave them to every member of
the government, lay and clerical: there was no shop or refectory in
which the ten propositions were not read and commented upon. They were
posted on the church doors and in the public places, not only in Geneva,
but in the allied and neighboring cities. They were even sent to
gentlemen at their châteaux. In its very infancy, the Reformation
proclaimed and practised the widest publicity. The trumpet sounded in
every quarter of the city, and the herald announced that a discussion
would take place on the 30th of May in the great hall of the Cordeliers
of Rive, and that scholars of all classes, Genevese or foreigners,
clerks or laymen, were invited with full liberty of speaking, and the
offer of a safe-conduct. 'Ah!' said Froment, one of the champions, 'if
such a license were given by every prince, the business would be soon
settled, without burning so many poor Christians. But the pope and his
cardinals forbid all discussion of this or that, except it be with fire
and sword: a fashion they have learnt no doubt from the Grand
Seignor.'[512]

[Sidenote: ALARM OF THE PAPISTS.]

The remark was but too true. The news of the discussion had no sooner
reached the bishop than a feeling of horror came over him. 'What!' he
said, 'convoke a council in my own city! nobody has the right to do it
but myself.' And he immediately published throughout his diocese a
proclamation 'forbidding the faithful to be present at the assembly
under pain of excommunication.' The duke of Savoy also forbade his
subjects to attend it, and the Franciscans, at that time assembled in
general chapter at Grenoble, having received the invitation, declared
they would not come.[513] There were, no doubt, capable men among them;
but to discuss the truths taught by the Church was, in their eyes,
aiming a blow at its authority. The result was a universal silence on
the part of the priests. They were very clever in making the most of
miraculous appearances, of dead children restored to life; but of
discussion, not a word. One or two fervent Catholics would, however,
have willingly broken a lance with Farel, but the orders of their chiefs
held them back. The army of the pope, summoned by the voice of the
trumpet, was wanting on the day of combat.

Still Roman-catholicism did something. Monsignor de Bonmont went to the
council on the 25th of May, and begged the syndics to take part in a
torchlight procession and other ceremonies which were to take place on
the 27th of the month, the festival of Corpus Christi. That procession,
however brilliant it might be, was very displeasing to the zealous
Reformers: they did not like that the Word of God should be supplanted
by millinery, lace, and all the empty glitter which dazzles the eye in
sacerdotal costumes. The answer of the council was judicious: 'We have
appointed a discussion,' said the premier syndic to the vicar-episcopal;
'that will decide whether the procession is holy or not. Wait a little,
then; if the conference is in favor of the procession, it shall be
proclaimed with sound of trumpet.'[514]

At the same time the council resolved to send a deputation to all the
convents to invite the monks, who answered, 'We have no learned men
among us; it is impossible for us to take part in the discussion.'[515]

One convent, however, displayed resolution: it was that of the nuns of
Ste. Claire. The mother-vicar, Mademoiselle de Montluet de Château-Fort,
a woman of warm and fiery temperament, answered the invitation: 'Begone!
you are wicked people who want to vex the servants of God.' The deputies
replied, 'It is said, madam, that certain of your nuns remain only by
force under your instruction, and would like to hear the voice of the
Good Shepherd.'... At these words the mother-vicar burst out. 'Satan has
no part among us,' she cried; and turning towards the nuns, added, 'My
sisters, speak, speak!' Almost all exclaimed at the top of their voices,
'We will live and die in our holy calling.' The clamor was so great that
the deputies could not make themselves heard. 'Do not be afraid,
gentlemen,' said the mother, 'this is nothing. You will hear something
very different if you take us to your _synagogue_. When we are there, we
will make such an uproar, that we shall remain mistresses of the place.'
'Dame vicar,' said a deputy, 'you are very arrogant.' Thereupon the
gentlemen retired, acknowledging however that they had not witnessed
such courage in the convents of the monks.[516]

Farel, who was distressed at seeing the priests of Geneva refuse the
discussion, would have supplied their place by distinguished athletes
belonging to one party or the other. He wrote to Lefèvre of Etaples, the
celebrated doctor of the Sorbonne, and invited him to the combat in
which liberty and truth were about to engage in Geneva.[517] The aged
and venerable doctor shed tears, and returned thanks to God for what he
heard.[518] But he was too old to take part in a disputation; perhaps,
too, his faith was not bold enough; he declined the invitation. Farel
turned his eyes in another direction. A chapter of the order of St.
Francis was at that time sitting at Lyons, its president being Pierre de
Corne, or _de Cornibus_, the most intrepid adversary of the heretics,
the butt of Rabelais' jests and of some unbelieving worldlings, but
highly extolled by the devout, and especially by Loyola's friend,
Francis Xavier. Farel pressed De Cornibus to come to Geneva; the
reformer could not give a plainer proof of the seriousness of his
intentions and the impartiality of the discussion. 'I am quite ready to
break a lance in Geneva,' wrote De Cornibus. The council were highly
delighted with this answer, and prepared to receive the warlike doctor
with great honor. But all of a sudden De Cornibus informed them that he
could not come.

If the combatants were not to be very numerous, the spectators at least
were crowding in from all sides—men and women, great and small.
Everybody wanted to see and hear, but nobody was willing to speak. The
reformers were in despair, lest the dialogue should be turned into a
monologue, and instead of a grand combat, one army alone should appear
on the field of battle.[519]

[Sidenote: CAROLI AT GENEVA.]

An unexpected help now appeared. A doctor of the Sorbonne, named Caroli,
arrived in Geneva and declared himself ready to dispute. Possessing
insupportable vanity, tossing his head as he walked along the street,
assuming a haughty and impudent air with everybody, the Parisian doctor
made a great stir, talked incessantly, aped the gentleman, and boasted
loudly. Much taken up with himself, he sought marks of honor, and to
obtain them employed cunning, artifice, and intrigue. He represented
himself to be, or allowed others to call him, _bishop_. 'Have you
heard,' said the citizens, 'that a bishop has arrived from France?'[520]
Everybody thought that Farel had found his man at last. But the
reformer, who had known him long, shook his head. The foolish admiration
which Caroli felt for his own person had drawn upon him the contempt of
those who were not to be deceived by his braggadocio. The reformer knew
that he was fluent of tongue, but was without firm principle,
uprightness, or solid character, and that his sole desire was to make a
name—whether in the Roman or in the evangelical camp mattered little to
him. He was known to unite and to quarrel with everybody in turn. He was
neither catholic nor reformer, but simply Caroli. As skilful as the
famous Beda in the tricks of sophistry, he had disputed in Paris with
that illustrious champion; and the Sorbonne having interdicted him,
Margaret of Valois looked upon him as a victim of the Gospel, and gave
him the living of Alençon. He had come from that city to Geneva, where
nobody had expected or wanted him.[521] It was rumored abroad that there
would be a great stir in the city; and Caroli, who had 'a keen scent'
(to use the words of a contemporary), thought that Geneva would be a
theatre where he might display his profound learning and fine voice, and
gather fresh laurels to adorn his brow. There was only one point about
which he still hesitated: should he take the side of Rome or of the
Reformation?

[Sidenote: FAREL REBUKES CAROLI.]

Farel liked not those ambiguous characters who hoist one flag or another
according to the place they may be at. Catholic at Paris, Erasmian at
Alençon, Caroli would probably be a reformer at Geneva. Farel went to
his inn, where he found him at breakfast. Entering upon business
immediately, the reformer said to him frankly: 'You are driven from
France for the faith, you say; certainly you have not deserved it, for
you have done nothing that was unworthy of the pope or worthy of Jesus
Christ.'[522] The doctor of the Sorbonne, offended by such words, held
his tongue and continued his meal. 'The song I sang him while he was at
breakfast,' said Farel, 'did not seem to please him much.'[523] 'Are you
willing now,' resumed Farel, 'to confess the truth openly, as God
requires, and to repair the evil that you have done by your
dissimulation?' The Parisian doctor cleverly turned the conversation and
began to parade a great zeal for the poor. 'I am going to send my
servant back to France,' he said, 'to receive the money from my
benefices, and I shall distribute it among your poor refugees.' Farel
remembered how certain monks in Paris had made a great display about a
collection in favor of the poor, not a penny of which had the latter
ever seen. 'God,' he said, 'will never fail either the poor or us. Let
us now give the bread of the Word to men's souls,' and left him. Several
days elapsed. Caroli compensated himself for the humiliation Farel had
inflicted upon him by representing himself everywhere as one of the
greatest orators of France; and accordingly all the Genevans wanted to
hear him. 'Let us put him to the test,' said Farel, who asked him to
preach. But Caroli, no doubt fearing the proof, urged a thousand excuses
to get off. 'Your sermons charm me,' he said to Farel, 'and I cannot
persuade myself not to hear them.'[524]

This braggart priest, who pretended to support the refugees, was living
upon them, extorting their money, wine, and other things. 'Our master,'
said one of them to Farel, 'behaves very theologically: he uses wine
magisterially, and even Sorbonically.' The reputation of certain doctors
of the Sorbonne was established on that point. 'He has women to make his
bed,' they added, 'to pull off his stockings, and even for other
familiarities.'[525] The wretched man imagined that, coming into a
country which rejected the law of the pope, he could throw off the law
of God. Farel, assured of the truth of these reports, visited this vain
and impure priest, spoke to him of his dissolute life, reminded him of
the judgment of the Lord, and entreated him to change his conduct. Farel
spoke with so much authority, that all who were present were struck with
it. The Sorbonne doctor was confounded: he hid his face in his hands,
and did not open his mouth. From that time he behaved more prudently,
and did nothing (openly, at least) that could be charged against him. He
had his reasons for not quarrelling with the reformers.

Jacques Bernard, who had but recently thrown off the cowl, was not so
clear-sighted as Farel; Caroli tried, therefore, to throw dust into his
eyes. He hinted that, as a doctor of the Sorbonne of Paris, celebrated
by former struggles with the most illustrious doctors, he was well
qualified to be appointed arbiter in the disputation, and invited to
pronounce authoritatively the final judgment.[526] Thus, becoming umpire
between Geneva and Rome, he already fancied himself the most important
person of Christendom. The simple-minded Bernard, circumvented by the
artifices of the wily Frenchman, consented to make the strange
proposition to Farel.—'No,' at once answered the reformer; 'it is to God
and to Holy Scripture that we must pay supreme honor. We do not want men
as judges of our controversy: the Lord is the only judge, who will
decide authoritatively by the Scriptures. That presumptuous man would
only seek his own glorification in the dispute.' The magistrates
supported this opinion.

[Sidenote: THE DEBATE PROCLAIMED.]

In fact, the council, finding itself between two confessions—one coming,
and one departing—regarded itself as mediator, and wished to see which
was right or wrong; then, if there were cause, to do as certain good
kings of Israel and Judah had done—'extirpate the idolatry of their
people.'[527] Placed at the head of the republic, the magistracy did not
understand that religious matters, so important at that period, were not
within its jurisdiction; and even when the question was decided somewhat
later, when the firm Calvin was established at Geneva, the State
continued to hold under its jurisdiction all matters which are
considered in this day as belonging to the Church. The council,
therefore, nominated eight commissioners, empowered to regulate the
discussion, and chose them from among the most respected leaders of the
people: four belonged to the catholic party,[528] and four to the
reformed opinions;[529] all of them had been syndics. The council,
moreover, named four secretaries, belonging to the two parties, and
instructed them to draw up the minutes. The discussion was proclaimed by
sound of trumpet, and it was published everywhere, that the disputation
would be entirely free. Then, fearing lest the enemy should take
advantage of the opportunity to attack Geneva, the syndics bade the
captain-general 'keep careful watch and ward at the gates, towers, and
ramparts, and prevent any disturbance taking place in the city.'[530]

[509] 'Justificationem a peccatis in _solo_ Christo quærendam.'—Theses
Genev.

[510] Calvin.

[511] Registres du Conseil du 23 Avril 1535.—Chron. MSC. de Roset.

[512] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, pp. 137, 138.

[513] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 138. Jeanne de Jussie,
_Commencement de l'Hérésie dans Genève_, p. 112.

[514] Registres du Conseil des 25 et 26 Mai 1535.

[515] Registres du Conseil du 29 Mai 1535.

[516] Jeanne de Jussie, _Commencement de l'Hérésie dans Genève_, p. 117,
&c.

[517] 'Cupiebam habere pium Stapulensem.'—Farel's Letter to Calvin,
_Epist. Calv._, p. 76.

[518] 'Non sine lacrymis audiebat.'—Farel's Letter to Calvin, _Epist.
Calv._, p. 76.

[519] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 140.—Registres du Conseil des 26
et 29 Mai 1535.

[520] 'Dicebant omnes episcopum Gallicum venisse.'—Farel's Letter to
Calvin, _Epist. Calv._, p. 76.

[521] 'Venit Genevam neque expectatus neque expetitus.'—_Ibid._

[522] 'Cum nihil egisset pontifice indignum nec Christo dignum.'—Farel
to Calvin, _Epist. Calv._

[523] 'Non fuit satis grata Carolo hæc cantio quæ in prandio
canebatur.'—_Ibid._

[524] 'Se rapi concionibus nostris.'—_Ibid._

[525] 'Habere quæ lectum ejus sternerent, tibialia exuerent, ac
familiarius dormituro adessent.'—Farel to Calvin.

[526] 'Satagebat per Bernardum Carolus ut præsideret in disputatione, et
omnia resolveret.'—_Ibid._

[527] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 134.

[528] Girardin de la Rive, J. Balard, Cl. Richardet, and Cl. de
Châteauneuf.

[529] Michel Sept, Cl. Savoye, Ami de Chapeaurouge, and Aimé Curtet.

[530] Registres du Conseil du 29 Mai 1535.




 CHAPTER IV.
 THE GREAT PUBLIC DEBATE ON THE FOUNDATIONS OF THE
 EVANGELICAL FAITH.
 (JUNE 1535.)


Sunday, the 30th of May and the feast of Pentecost, the day on which the
discussion was to begin, came at last. A year had passed away since the
Reformation had made its public entrance into Geneva; it was now about
to take another step—one that would secure its triumph. The day of
Pentecost, so important for the establishment of Christianity, was to be
important also for the Reformation. The same Spirit which had begun the
Church, is also that which will renew it when it has fallen. Friends and
enemies crowded that day to the convent of Rive, animated with the
liveliest and most opposite emotions. Nothing had been spared so that
the debate should take place with solemnity. 'A theatre,' that is to
say, a platform, had been erected in the great hall. The eight
commissioners took their seats, and an immense concourse of Genevans and
foreigners filled the vast auditory. A table had been placed in the
_arena_ for the combatants. Jacques Bernard appeared first: he was
followed by Farel, Viret, and Froment; but the places set apart for the
champions of the Roman Church remained unoccupied, and people began to
ask if Rome would fail to appear. At last two ecclesiastics came
forward: one was Chapuis, prior of the Dominican convent, the most
learned man at that time in Geneva; the other was Caroli, the Sorbonne
doctor.

[Sidenote: BERNARD AND CHAPUIS.]

Bernard spoke first. He undertook to prove that, in the Romish Church,
men did not look to Christ for justification from their sins, and for
that purpose put in the rules of his order, and showed how the monks
claimed to be saved by their vain practices, and gave themselves up to
pride, avarice, and even to great impurity. He spoke from personal
knowledge. A man of upright heart, quick, a little violent even, he
repelled with energy the disorders in which he had once taken part.
Standing in the great hall of his own convent, the guardian pulled down
what he had worshipped and worshipped what he had pulled down. This made
the father-confessor of Ste. Claire exclaim: 'How that accursed Jacques
Bernard despises the frock he once wore.' Chapuis, the Dominican, came
forward resolutely in defence of the monastic orders, and reproved the
guardian severely. Farel rose in support of Bernard, but Chapuis, who
feared such an adversary, maintained that nobody but Bernard ought to
answer him.[531] The next day Bernard and Chapuis, the heads of the two
great convents of Geneva, met again; but Chapuis received orders from
his Provincial to leave the city immediately.

This vexed the magistrates exceedingly: they remembered Furbity, and the
excessive zeal which had caused his imprisonment: they had no doubt that
he would joyfully seize the opportunity of defending the faith of Rome.
Having sent for the jailer's wife, they ordered her to place the
articles under dispute in the reverend father's hands. As she was a
zealous Roman-catholic, and on good terms with Furbity, they thought
that he would receive them more willingly from her than from her
husband, who was ardent for the reform. The woman, a timid soul, was
afraid of everybody: of her husband, whom she did not wish to displease
by neglecting the commission, and of the reverend father, whom she
feared to offend by giving him the heretical propositions; so she sent
them by one of the turnkeys. 'Alas!' exclaimed Furbity, 'even my poor
hostess is trying to seduce me.' He tossed the paper out of his cell.
The jaileress sent it back to him by her little girl; but the latter,
who was harshly received, brought it back to her mother, who, frightened
at the probability of displeasing their worships, slipped the theses
into the cell by the window. The reverend father, seeing the paper which
he had cursed falling at his feet, picked it up, tore it to pieces, and
trampled it under foot.[532] All hope of seeing him defend popery had to
be given up.

The disputation began again without him. Bernard and Farel, having
Caroli for respondent, showed by Scripture that Jesus Christ alone saves
men from sin. Caroli was very weak, but hinted to his partisans that he
reserved his hardest blows till the last, and would then pound his
adversaries to powder. He did not speak up for either side. The honest
Viret, indignant at such trickery, attacked him so skilfully, that he
was constrained to pronounce for or against the truth. The Sorbonnist
took the side of the reformers. 'All the efforts of man are in vain,' he
said. 'Without the grace of Christ, he can neither begin what is good,
nor pursue it, nor persevere.'[533] 'Very good,' exclaimed Farel; 'thank
you, doctor. The glory of God and the edification of the people, is all
we desire.' Caroli was quite proud of having spoken so well.

[Sidenote: FURBITY INVITED TO DEBATE.]

The reformers were again without antagonists, Caroli appearing to agree
with them. The magistrates returned to their notion about Furbity, and
as Caroli had been his theological tutor in Paris, the Council asked him
to invite his old pupil to come and defend his doctrine, or to disavow
his errors as he himself had done. 'Willingly,' said the vainglorious
doctor. After dinner, the four syndics, the great Parisian doctor, that
_Satan_ William Farel (as Sister Jeanne calls him), Pierre Viret, and
several of their friends, went to the prison. The Dominican appeared: he
was thin, weak, debilitated, and his feet tottered, so that when he saw
the Sorbonne doctor in the company of all those heretics, he fell
fainting to the ground.'[534] They lifted him up, and when he had
recovered his senses, Caroli, addressing him in a doctoral tone, said:
'How is this, brother Guy; will you die in your obstinacy—in your
errors, now that we have arrived at the truth? Acknowledge that you have
been deceived, and return to God.' Furbity, divided between respect for
his old teacher and fidelity to the pope, exclaimed: 'God forbid that I
should quarrel with my master.... I desire to die in the truth as I
learnt it of you.'—'Come, then, and defend it,' they said. But Furbity
imposed a singular condition: he required Farel's beard to be cut off.
We know that the bigots believed in the existence of a devil in each
hair of the reformer's beard. 'If I must dispute with that idiot,' he
exclaimed, 'let the dwelling of his master the devil be first cleared
away, and all his skin shaved.'[535] They urged the doctor to no
purpose: nothing could shake him. No beard or no discussion.

The debate began again, and that day Caroli was Roman-catholic from head
to foot. Bernard maintained that Christ was the only mediator; Caroli
affirmed that it was Mary. 'The Virgin having remained upon earth, after
the death of the Saviour,' he said, 'the mother naturally succeeded the
Son.'[536]—'Mary, the successor to her Son!' exclaimed Farel. 'Let us
have done with these foolish questions: let us get out of this labyrinth
of quibbling which men call _Roman theology_.' It was agreed that the
discussion next day should turn upon the Mass.

Caroli, determining to arm himself completely to defend this palladium
of popery, spent a portion of the night in hunting over huge
folios,[537] and in taking notes of the reasons that might be adduced in
favor of that sacrifice. The _Mysteria Missæ_ of Innocent III., the
_Summa Theologiæ_ of Thomas Aquinas, the _Sentences of Bonaventure_,
were in turn examined by him. The next day he began to pour out the
arguments he had hastily collected. 'Firstly,' he said; 'secondly'....
But he lost the thread and stopped short, continuing to repeat the same
words. The scholar forgot his lesson. To complete the comedy, it only
wanted Farel to prompt the arguments which he had forgotten. 'You mean
to say this or to say that,' suggested the reformer.—'Yes, yes,' said
the poor doctor, 'it is exactly what I meant to say.'[538]

Caroli, piqued at this triumph of Farel's, made an effort, and getting
once more into the saddle, began to prance about valiantly. 'Really,'
said Froment, who heard him, he now argues with subtlety and great
earnestness.' The catholics, without waiting for the reformer's answer,
ran off to the canons: 'The Parisian doctor is speaking admirably,' they
said. The canons ordered some of their best wine to be taken to him.
Caroli was at this moment the happiest man in the world; the papacy and
the Reformation both lavished their favors on him at once.

The next day the audience was more numerous than usual: the doctor's
eloquence had been much talked about, and the catholics came in crowds.
Sworn enemies of Reform[539] said to one another, 'Let us go and witness
the triumph of the divine mysteries of popery.' That day the points to
be defended were transubstantiation, the sacrifice of the mass, the
adoration of the bread, the taking away of the cup, the invocation of
saints, the use of a foreign tongue, and other rites and customs.
Caroli, puffed up by the good position he had acquired, tossed his head
and challenged his adversaries in a loud tone: 'Give me a man who shows
himself a man,' he said, 'and we will fight together.' Then stood
forward to answer him a mere boy. When the veteran doctor saw this
novice, so puny in body,[540] he despised him as Goliath despised David.
'Surely,' he said, 'you do not mean to pass him off for one of your
pastors!' This young man was Pierre Viret, then twenty-four years old,
whose health was still weakened by the poison, and who had such a pale
face and weak look that he seemed ready to faint. 'Alas!' he said of
himself, 'I am but a mere bag of bones.' His language showed little
color or elegance: but he had a logical style, perfectly clear, the
skill of an orator, and all accompanied by an indescribable sweetness
and charm.

[Sidenote: TRIUMPH OF REFORM.]

The two champions joined in combat; and Viret refuted Caroli's
assertions so clearly and so completely, that all the spectators took
his side.[541] Caroli, not knowing what to say, began to vociferate a
long 'Bah! bah! bah!'[542] It was useless for Viret to adduce the most
solid reasons, the Sorbonne doctor could find no other argument than
that foolish interjection. 'What do I hear?' exclaimed Farel; 'we should
blush to answer in such a manner.' Caroli held his tongue, and some
catholics began to ask themselves whether the doctrines they had held
for sacred might not be merely the opinions of men.[543]

Quitting this part of the subject, the doctor proceeded to defend the
forms of popery. 'How much more august is the service,' he said, 'if it
is celebrated in Latin! What majesty there is in the Roman ceremonies!
The tonsure of the priests is a crown to them.'—'It is Christ's wish,'
said Farel, 'that leaving shadows, we should worship the Father in
spirit and in truth. If we load the Church with ceremonies, signs, and
ornaments, we rob it of the presence of Jesus Christ. If King Hezekiah
broke the brazen serpent, what must be done with all these
superstitions, which surpass the idolatry of the Jews in scandal?'

It was too much. The bishop, informed of the progress of the discussion,
issued from Arbois on the 13th of June, in the very midst of the
debates, an order, 'forbidding people of every condition to be from that
day forward so bold and daring as to speak or trade with the syndics,
preachers, and citizens of Geneva, under pain of excommunication and a
fine of twenty-five livres.'[544]

Thus the bishop set up a quarantine to separate Geneva from Christendom;
but it was precisely at this epoch that the obscure city of the
Allobroges came into communication with the world, and spread abroad the
light which it had received. While the papacy ceased to utter its
oracles there, and had in its service none but the dumb, the Word of God
made its loud and mighty voice heard through the mouths of the
Reformers. Such was the result of the discussion. 'In that controversy,'
says a modern historian who does not belong to the Reform, 'the
catholics were defeated by the reformers.'[545]

[531] 'Nollet alium respondere quam Bernardum.'—Farel to Calvin,
p. 77.—Jeanne de Jussie, _Commencement de l'Hérésie dans Genève_,
p. 125.—Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, pp. 139, 140.

[532] Jeanne de Jussie, _Commencement de l'Hérésie dans Genève_, p. 80.

[533] 'Frustra hominem conari sine gratia, nec ordiri, nec prosequi, nec
perseverare posse.'—Farel to Calvin, _Epist. Calv._, p. 77.

[534] Jeanne de Jussie, _Commencement de l'Hérésie dans Genève_, p. 80.

[535] _Ibid._ pp. 80, 81.

[536] 'Succedere matrem Filio.'—Farel to Calvin.

[537] 'Partem noctis impendit in annotandis rationibus quibus posset
missa ferri.'—_Ibid._

[538] Hominem, memoria labantem, adjuvabamus, ut sua formaret
argumenta.'—Farel to Calvin, _Epist. Calv._

[539] 'Juratissimi hostes.'—Farel to Calvin, _Epist. Calv._

[540] 'Cum juvenem quem ut tironem Carolus reputat.'—_Ibid._

[541] 'Cum Viretus tam aperte dissolveret omnia.'—_Ibid._

[542] 'Cœpit, insani more, vociferari longum ba, ba, ba.'—Farel to
Calvin, _Epist. Calv._

[543] 'Humana et impia esse quæ divina sanctissimaque arbitrabantur.'—
_Ibid._

[544] Archives de Genève.—Pièces historiques, No. 1125.

[545] Mignet, _Réforme à Genève_, p. 66.




 CHAPTER V.
 TRIUMPH OF THE WORD OF GOD, BOTH WRITTEN AND SPOKEN.
 (JUNE TO AUGUST 1535.)


Rome had set up, beside the Bible and even above it, the word and the
traditions of men. The Reformation demanded that the Holy Scriptures
should be read by all and preached from the pulpits. The written Word
and oral teaching were to displace that pretended infallible chair,
which alone was authorized (they said) to set forth the will of God.

[Sidenote: THE FRENCH BIBLE PRINTED.]

One fact of great importance was being accomplished at this time. The
discussion maintained at Geneva by Farel, Bernard, Chapuis, and Caroli
was but a musketry skirmish; but at a little distance from that city—at
Neuchâtel—thanks to the labors of Calvin and Olivetan, a tradesman, a
Picard like themselves, was preparing that great artillery, whose
formidable volleys were to break down the walls of error, on the ruins
of which a divine hand was to establish the truth of Jesus Christ.

Pierre Robert of Noyon, called Olivetan, had finished the work the
Church had intrusted to him. On the 4th of June, 1535, appeared the
first French Bible of the Reformation.[546] 'Possessing a keen and
penetrating mind,' said one of its readers who was thoroughly capable of
appreciating the work, 'the translator is not deficient in learning; he
has spared neither labor, research, nor care, and has ably discharged
the duties of a translator of the Bible.'[547] 'I have done the best I
could,' said the translator himself, on presenting the book to his
brethren; 'I have labored and searched as deeply as I possibly could
into the living mine of pure truth; but I do not pretend to have
entirely exhausted it.'[548] Some people have asserted that Olivetan's
Bible was only a copy of that by Le Fevre of Etaples. The translation of
the Old Testament, probably begun before Olivetan's journey to the
Valleys, is the best part of his work, and it may be said to be
original.[549] Calvin's cousin no doubt had his predecessor's
translation before him; but the latter does not contain three
consecutive verses in which Olivetan has not changed something. His New
Testament is more like Le Fevre's; still numerous changes were
introduced into it. It has been calculated that the new translator had
corrected the biblical text of the Sorbonne doctor in twenty-three
thousand five hundred places, and in more than sixty thousand, if
account be taken of all the minutiæ of style.[550] Calvin's share has
reference particularly to the later editions of this Bible. With regard
to the mechanical part, the two cousins had found a distinguished
auxiliary.

Pierre de Wingle (called also Pérot Picard) was one of the good printers
of the sixteenth century. The episcopal court of Lyons, where he lived,
had prosecuted him for printing 'certain writings come from Germany;' he
then took refuge at Geneva, but the impression of the New Testament and
various pamphlets had compelled him, in 1532, to flee to Neuchâtel—a
reformed city since 1530—which behaved more hospitably, and shortly
after made him a citizen. About half an hour's walk from Neuchâtel, is
the little village of Serrière; here Wingle set up his presses, and this
modest but happy locality, which first had heard the Gospel preached by
Farel, was destined also to be the first to witness the birth of
Olivetan's Bible. The latter had dated his dedication,

 _Des Alpes, ce_ XIIᵉ _de feburier 1535_,

as if he wished to confound the Vaudois valleys of the Cottian Alps,
where the idea had been conceived, with the parts of Switzerland where
it had been carried out. The Vaudois had collected for this publication
five hundred golden crowns, a sum equivalent to about 2,400_l._
sterling.

[Sidenote: OLIVETAN TO THE CHURCH.]

The volume had scarcely left the press, when Wingle and his friends sent
it wherever the French language was spoken. 'Has not the King of kings
proclaimed,' they thought, 'that His _Word should go forth to the ends
of the world_?' 'The people who make thee this present,' said Olivetan
to the Church, 'are the true people of patience who, in silence and
hope, have overcome all assaults. For a long time they have seen thee
maltreated, seeming rather a poor slave than the daughter and heiress of
the universal Ruler. But now that thou beginnest to recognize thy
origin, these people, thy brothers, come forward and lovingly offer thee
their all. Cheer up then, poor little Church! go and cleanse thy
spattered rags; go and wash thy befouled hands. Desirest thou to be
always subject to masters? Is it not time to think of the Bridegroom?
Here is a precious jewel He sends thee as a wedding-gift and pledge of a
loyal marriage.[551] Art thou afraid that He will some day leave thee a
widow, He who lives for evermore? Courage! bid farewell to that
traitorous hag whom thou hast so long called mother. It is true that
thou canst bring to thy husband nothing of any value; but come, come
boldly with all the nobles and titled ones of thy court, with thy
insulted, excommunicated, imprisoned, banished, and plundered ones! Come
with thy tortured, branded, crop-eared, dismembered ones![552] Such are
those whom Christ calls to triumph with him in his heavenly court.'[553]

If the fruits of the Bible published at Neuchâtel were more numerous,
those of the discussion at Geneva were more prompt. The most candid
catholics were struck at seeing the men who were on the side of the
Reform giving an account of their faith, while those on the other side
stood dumb. There was eloquence in this contrast. Accordingly priests,
laymen, and women, stripped of their prejudices, declared that the truth
of God, brought forward during the discussion, had opened their eyes. No
doubt many simply quitted the forms of popery for the forms of
protestantism. To put aside superstitions, to break images, and to
reject the authority of the pope was in their eyes the Reform: their
chief was Ami Perrin. But with a great number of Genevans, the movement
within, the conversion of the heart, corresponded with the movement
without. There were rivers of running water in that city which no man
could stop, and at which many quenched their thirst.

[Sidenote: DELAYS IN THE COUNCIL.]

The magistrates, however, far from reforming the Roman worship, remained
motionless and silent. The friends of the Gospel took the initiative.
Claude Bernard, the brother of Jacques, one of the captains of the city,
a man full of zeal for the truth, went before the council on June 28th,
accompanied by the ministers and several notables, and represented that
the mass, images, and other inventions and idolatries,[554] being
contrary to Holy Scripture, as the disputation had showed, it was time
they were suppressed. The law of conscience ought to become the law of
the State also. Bernard said: 'Ought a father to permit the children
whose guardianship God has intrusted to him, to become attached to
errors opposed to the truth of God? Magistrates, act like fathers. It
will be to the glory of God and the salvation of the people.'[555]

The syndics and councils could not come to a decision. The step they
were asked to take was that of a giant. They feared to excite the
catholics to take up arms, and the duke of Savoy to surround Geneva with
his artillery. To cross definitively the line which separated the old
times from the new was too much for them. St. Paul and the Apostles had
done it in their day, and the reformers were doing it now; but the
syndics of Geneva were neither Pauls nor Farels. They feared civil war
and escalades; they preferred waiting for the Reform to be accomplished
without them, for everything to be changed without any one's observing
it. The council, therefore, procrastinated and did nothing.[556] 'The
minutes of the discussion take a long time arranging,' answered the
premier syndic to Claude Bernard; 'as soon as they are drawn out, we
will see what is to be done.' The great evolution of the Reformation was
metamorphosed by these worthy ediles into a question of drawing up
minutes. To show their love for the _status quo_, they condemned to
three days' imprisonment, on bread and water and the strappado, a
huguenot who had destroyed the images placed in front of the chapel of
Notre Dame.

Farel's friends determined to wait; but no measure of reform appeared,
although they waited ten times the space required to examine the
minutes. The huguenots thought that the council was taking refuge in
'tortuous hiding-places,' when it ought to act boldly in the light of
day. The evangelicals thought that 'as God gives us everything openly,
the secrets of our hearts ought also to be open and displayed.'

Never had courage and firmness been more necessary. Great miseries were
beginning. Since the disputation not a sack of wheat or a load of wood
had entered the city, while previously they used to enter in great
numbers twice a week. There were no eggs, or butter, or cheese, or
cattle. One day, however, a cow was brought by a man from a neighboring
village; what a supply for a whole city! But the man had scarcely got
out of the city, when the enemy seized him roughly and made him pay
three times the price he had received. If friends wanted to bring some
trifling stores from the nearest farms, they dared not do it by
daylight.[557] Finding themselves reduced to such extremities, a few
citizens on one or two occasions went out of the city to procure bread:
they were insulted and beaten. 'Alas!' said the poor creatures, 'we have
only to move the tips of our fingers, or go a nail's breadth out of the
city, to make our enemies cry out that we are upsetting heaven and
earth.'[558]

Seeing that no progress was made, the evangelicals determined to assert
the free publication of the Word of God. It was not enough for them to
have it printed, they wanted it preached,—not only in their own houses
or in the great hall of Rive, but in the churches. They had within their
walls one of the most powerful preachers of the age—Farel: they believed
that their duty towards God and their fellow-citizens called upon them
to make his eloquent voice heard by the multitude.

[Sidenote: FAREL AT THE MADELEINE.]

The 22d of July was the feast of Mary Magdalen. The bells had been
solemnly rung to call worshippers to the church of that name, and
already a great number of catholics and even evangelicals had gathered
within its walls. Was it by a Latin mass that the memory of that
Magdalen ought to be commemorated to whom Jesus had said: _Thy faith
hath saved thee_? Ought not those words to be preached which Jesus had
addressed to her, and not the rubbish with which the priests sent their
flocks to sleep? This was what the reformers asked each other. They
observed, moreover, that the catholics, less numerous than the
protestants, had six churches, while the latter had scarcely one or two
places of worship. They added that if the marvellous work begun in
Geneva was to be completed, great meetings must be held in the temples.
Some persons called out, 'Farel.'—'Yes, Farel,' repeated many: 'let us
go and fetch him;' and they all ran to the convent of Rive. The reformer
had just gone into the pulpit when the message was handed to him. Farel
was always ready and believed he had a right to speak in a church. 'My
friends,' he said to his congregation, 'we must to-day preach the good
news under the vaulted roof of the Madeleine, and abolish idolatry
there.' He then came down from the pulpit and bent his way towards that
huge old gothic church, with its Carlovingian tower, whose foundation
dates from the eleventh century. The crowd of his hearers followed him.
He entered: his friends made signs of joy: the priest standing before
the altar, where he was celebrating mass, stopped in alarm and ran away;
his acolytes followed him, and all the worshippers wished to do the
same. But the huguenots, thinking that the Word of God was specially
necessary for them, shut the doors. This roused the catholics, the
frightened women shrieked, and all made such an uproar, that the
reformers opened the doors and let those depart who pleased. There
remained, however, a certain number of undecided persons; and Farel
began to preach with power, that Saviour who had pardoned the Magdalen
and who still pardons sinners.

Meantime those who had fled, dispersing in the streets and houses, cried
out against the scandal, while the parish priest, running off to the
hôtel-de-ville, complained to the council. Farel was forbidden to preach
again in that church. When the sermon was ended, the catholics returned
and the priests sang mass in it with more fervor than ever. The
huguenots made no opposition, but they also claimed that no one should
oppose their meetings. The two worships were to be free. In fact the
very same day at vespers, 'those rascals (_canailles_),' says Sister
Jeanne, 'again took possession of the holy church, and every day
afterwards it was the usual custom to preach in it.'[559]

The irritated council summoned Farel before them on the 30th of July.
'Sirs,' said the reformer, 'you have yourselves acknowledged that
whatever cannot be proved by Scripture ought to be suppressed; why then
do you delay doing so? Were not the defenders of popery vanquished in
our debates? And has not almost the whole city recognized the finger of
God in this signal defeat of the papacy? Give us orders which we can
obey, for fear we should be constrained to answer you with Scripture,
that _it is better to obey God rather than men_. Assemble the Council of
Two Hundred and let them decide.' The syndics, knowing that the friends
of Reform had a majority in that assembly, refused the demand, and
repeated their prohibition to Farel, adding: _For good reasons_.

Farel thought their reasons bad. In such a matter he knew but one really
good: _Preach the Gospel to every creature_, the Lord had said. He set
no bounds either to his desire for the triumph of the truth, or to his
expectation of help from God to give him the victory. A holy ambition
that would not be straitened, animated him, and according to the words
of Elisha, he _smote five or six times_ until the enemy was vanquished.
Farel was one of those men whom God raises up for great and salutary
revolutions: opposition only served to inflame his courage.

[Sidenote: FAREL AT SAINT-GERVAIS.]

On the 1st of August he went to Saint-Gervais, where the friends of the
Reform were numerous. The uneasy syndics sent a guard of fifty men; but
Farel went into the pulpit and preached in the old church the ever new
Gospel of Jesus Christ. On the 5th of August he became still bolder, and
proclaimed the anti-Roman doctrine in the church dedicated to St.
Dominic, the father of the Inquisition. This evangelist did not perform
his office at his own time only and according to his own convenience: he
never spared himself, whatever were the vexations he gathered from his
labors. He summoned weary souls to rest at the feet of Christ; he
followed up the obstinate; he argued, reproved, entreated, exhorted. He
multiplied the inducements to make the dilatory enter upon the way of
life, and 'his vehemence was always tempered with meekness.' The hour
had arrived when divine truth was to triumph over human errors; he
therefore multiplied his attacks. The greatest blow yet remained to be
struck. A thunder-clap was about to bring down an abundant rain upon the
thirsty earth, and the outpouring of the Holy Ghost which cometh from
heaven.[560]

The cathedral of St. Pierre, whose three old towers soar above the city,
played a great part in its history, and every Genevan was attached to
its stones, though they were now (as it were) broken and scattered, and
the divine service was contaminated by mournful profanations. But the
greater the desolation, the more did pious men desire to see that august
temple purified and the good news proclaimed beneath its vaulted roof.
Fourteen canons still belonged to it, established to defend it; but
those unhappy clerks, isolated, scared, and conquered before a blow was
struck, waited trembling until the tide of Reform, which still kept
rising, invaded their sanctuary. They had not long to wait. On Sunday
morning, 8th of August, a crowd of reformed Genevans mounted the streets
leading to the church, and approached it with the firm intention of
replacing the light upon the candlestick. 'When rust has tarnished
iron,' said a reformer, 'we endeavor to restore it to its former
brightness: must we not, then, cleanse away from the Church of Christ
the thick rust which ages of darkness have accumulated on it?'[561]
Having entered the noble edifice, the reformers began to ring the great
bell to call the people to hear the Gospel. _Clémence_ was tolling the
last hour of the Middle Ages, the _De Defunctis_ of images, 'those gods
of the priests,' as the huguenots called them. The chapel which
contained the arm of St. Anthony, on which men used to swear in serious
cases, was to be pulled down; all that mass of waxen hands offered by
devotees, and a thousand other relics equally stupid, were to disappear.
In that temple, now 'crammed with idols,' God and his Word were
henceforward to reign alone.

[Sidenote: FAREL IN THE PULPIT.]

Farel arrived and went into the pulpit. The worship they were about to
celebrate was not to be an ordinary service: a religious revolution was
about to be accomplished. Ceremonies were the essence of popery. Now
Farel was full of the idea that there are no ceremonial laws in
Christianity; that an act of worship, discharged according to the rules
of the Church, is not on that account pleasing to God and meritorious:
that to overburden believers with festivals, bowing of the head,
crossing, kneeling before pictures, and ceremonies, is opposed to
worship in the spirit; that to fill the churches with images, offerings,
relics, and tapers is dealing a blow at justification by faith and the
merit of Christ's death which alone save the sinner. He believed with
his whole heart that divine worship, according to the New Testament,
does not consist in processions, elevations, salutations, bowings,
genuflexions before the host, and other superstitious usages; that its
essence is faith in the Gospel, the charity which flows from it,
patience in bearing the cross, public confession of Jesus Christ, and
the living prayer of the heart. At the sight of the statues, the
pictures, the votive offerings which surrounded him—at the recollection
of the superstitious ceremonies which for centuries had profaned that
cathedral, Farel in great emotion was ready to do anything, even at the
risk of his life, to establish that religion which is _spirit and life_.
'Those idols,' he said, pointing from the pulpit to the images around
him, 'the mass and the whole body of popery are condemned by the Holy
Ghost. The magistrates, ordained by God, ought to pull down everything
that is raised in opposition to God's glory.' The images, if they
remained, would be in his eyes a sign of the victory of catholicism; but
if they fell, their fall would proclaim the victory of the Reformation.
This point had been often discussed: the priests and devout people
opposed Farel's intentions with all their power, and maintained that
such changes required the consent of a general council. The alarmed
politicians objected that if they pulled down the images, then for one
enemy Geneva would have a hundred—the duke of Savoy, the king of France,
the emperor, the pope, the cardinals, and all the bishops in the world.

There were at this time two powers and two systems in the city:—the
reformers, whose ideal theories had not yet been modified by reality,
said that the State, as well as individuals, ought to become a new
creature; that the Gospel would accomplish this work of transformation;
that the Church would change the people and would make of the State a
kingdom of God upon earth.... Alas! that task is still far from being
accomplished, and can it ever be? On the other hand the politicians,
without wishing to reject the influence of the Gospel, thought that the
State occupied the first place in human society, and that order was not
possible without it. They believed that the magistrates, without being
the masters of the faith, ought to be the source of regularity in the
Church, and accordingly the State undertook to restrain the
evangelicals. It was attempted later in Calvin's day; now it was done in
Farel's. The council sent for him after the sermon at St. Pierre's and
asked him why he had preached in the cathedral. 'I am surprised,' said
the reformer, 'that you make a crime of what is in accordance with
Scripture.' If, however, he rendered unto God the things that were
God's, he was willing to render unto Cæsar the things that were Cæsar's.
He therefore expressed a desire that the reformers should be summoned by
the legitimate authority, and renewed his demand for the convocation of
the Council of Two Hundred.

The syndics ordered him to discontinue his sermons at St. Pierre's until
further notice.[562]

[546] Annales de Boyne, ad annum.

[547] Calvin, Letter at the head of the Bible of 1535.

[548] Preface to the Bible of 1535.

[549] Olivetan took advantage of all the Hebrew commentaries and
paraphrases contained in the Bible of Bomberg. (Venice, 1518-1526.) See
the articles in the _Revue de Strasbourg_, by M. Reuss.

[550] Em. Pétavel, _La Bible en France_, pp. 106, 107.

[551] According to Olivetan, the Bible is the 'corbeille de mariage'—the
casket containing the jewels and presents which the bridegroom sends to
the bride.

[552] 'Viens avec tes tenaillés (torn with red-hot pincers), tes
flétris, tes oreillés, tes démembrés.'

[553] Calvin placed two writings at the head of the volume: _Une épître
à tous empereurs, rois, princes, et peuples soumis à l'empire de
Christ_, and a _Discours préliminaire_, which was long at the head of
the ancient Genevan Bibles.

[554] 'Idolotramenta.' Registres du Conseil du 28 Juin 1535.—Farellus
Calvino.

[555] 'Magistratus fungeretur officio patris . . . . officium faceret
pro gloria Dei et plebis salute.' Farel to Calvin, _Epist.
Calv._—Chronique MSC. de Roset, iii. p. 37.

[556] 'Le conseil donc, délayant, ne faisait rien.'—Chronique MSC. de
Roset, iii. p. 37.

[557] Collection Galiffe.

[558] Dépêches des Syndics, du 18 Juillet, aux Cantons Suisses.

[559] Jeanne de Jussie, _Commencement de l'Hérésie dans Genève_,
p. 127.—Registres du Conseil du 23 Juillet.

[560] Registres du Conseil du 30 Juillet.

[561] Calvin.

[562] Registres du Conseil du 8 Août 1535.—Froment, _Gestes de Genève_,
pp. 142, 144.




 CHAPTER VI.
 IMAGES AND THE MASS ABOLISHED.
 (8TH TO 11TH AUGUST 1535.)


The Reformation protested against a ritualistic and meritorious worship;
against the multiplicity of feasts, consecrations, ecclesiastical usages
and customs; against any adoration whatever rendered to creatures,
images, and relics; against the invocation of mediators who usurped the
function of the Son of God; lastly, and chiefly, against a pretended
expiatory sacrifice, effected by the priests, which was substituted for
the only sacrifice offered by Jesus Christ.

[Sidenote: CHANTS OF THE PRIESTS.]

All these human vanities were about to disappear. Farel and his friends
waited for the reformatory ordinance; but the ardent huguenots, among
whom Ami Perrin was the most active, became impatient at the perpetual
hesitations of the council. A chance event called forth an energetic
demonstration on their part. The same Sunday (8th August) in the
afternoon at vespers, the canons, assembling again in their church,
chanted the Psalm _In exitu Israël_, 'When Israel went out of
Egypt,'[563] and, with the utmost simplicity, repeated in Latin what
Farel had said in the morning in French:

  Simulacra gentium argentum et aurum,
  Opera manuum hominum.
  Os habent et non loquentur.
  Oculos habent et non videbunt.
  Similes illis fiant qui faciunt ea
  Et omnes qui confidunt in illis.[564]

The canons could not have chosen a fitter text. Some huguenots, who knew
Latin better perhaps than they did, smiled and called out: 'Ho there,
you priests, you curse in your chants those who made the images and
trusted in them, and yet you allow them to remain.' They restrained
themselves, however, for the moment. The magistrates continued
repeating, 'There is no need to abolish the mass and images; else very
formidable princes will be to you like ravening wolves rushing upon
sheep.'[565]

A very extraordinary thing occurred at this moment. Nobody was willing
to begin the work and yet it was accomplished. 'God,' said the
reformers, 'who holds the world in his hand, loves to choose the
contemptible rather than what is great and apparent.' In fact, it was a
mischievous jest of some children which dealt the first blow. 'For this
work,' says Froment, 'God stirred up a score of little boys.' These
children had often heard the priests, and their errors and abuses spoken
of; and their parents had added that it was time they were ended. They
slipped into St. Pierre's; stopped and listened, and were struck with
the strange intonations of the canons. Making their way towards a part
of the church remote from that in which the reverend fathers were
chanting, they began to play like boys of their age, 'while nobody
thought anything about it,' says the chronicler. They commenced singing
and shouting in imitation of the canons' voices. Presently they lifted
up the seats of the low stalls, on which the reverend fathers used to
sit when they were not engaged in the service, and let them fall with a
noise. Everybody knows the fondness little boys have for amusements of
this kind. They gambolled about, but in their games there was a certain
opposition to the worship which their fathers condemned. The petulance
of their age carried them away. They saw in a corner certain things that
resembled dolls; they could not resist their desire to take them; and
catching hold of the 'priests' mannikins,'[566] as Froment calls them,
they began to toss to one another the small grotesque figures with which
the chapels were decorated.

[Sidenote: THE IMAGES BROKEN.]

At this moment Perrin, Goulay, and their friends, attracted perhaps by
the noise, entered the cathedral. They saw that the great execution had
begun; children were beforehand with them. Passion and impulse carried
them away. They knew that it was the province of the government only to
work out a reform; but when the government hangs back from its duty,
what is to be done? 'We have petitioned the council to pull down the
idols,' they said; 'and it has not done so for want of courage. Let us
then come to its help and do what God commands.' At once the daring
citizens, going farther than the children, penetrated into the choir
where the priests were singing, and the latter asked in alarm what these
laymen were going to do. 'On a sudden,' says the chronicler, 'Perrin and
his companions threw the idols to the ground and broke them.' The
children who saw this began to run about and 'jump upon those little
gods.' Taking up the pieces, they ran to the door with glee, and called
to the people collected in front of the church: 'Here are the gods of
the priests, will you have a piece?' At the same time they threw the
fragments among the crowd. There was great confusion. The wiser heads
ineffectually argued that this work of reform should be left to the
council; those huguenots had no doubts as to their duty. If the
magistrates were unwilling to have the images destroyed, the Bible
commands it. 'The sun is now rising,' they said, 'and scattering
throughout Christendom the dense clouds that obscure the religion of
Jesus Christ.'

The order of things in the middle ages was indeed incompatible with the
new wants of society. Later, in the time of Calvin, after the first
victory had been gained, it was important to establish Christian
doctrine and to constitute Christian society; but now it was the time of
Farel. It was necessary to appeal to the spirit of liberty and to the
energetic development of the will—this a conservative writer has
acknowledged[567]—a necessity in the first ages at the time of the
establishment of Christianity; it was no less a necessity in the
sixteenth century. The powers that had invaded the Church were so
tenacious that the labor necessary to pull them down was a work of
revolution and of war. The moral fact was the same at the epoch of these
two great dispensations. Whoever applauds the axe which shattered the
colossal statue of Serapis at Alexandria,[568] cannot blame that which
threw down the images of a corrupt worship in the temples of Geneva.

Great was the sorrow felt by the devotees during that execution; they
seemed looking at the fall of the papacy itself. Some who had remained
in the church contemplated the heart-rending spectacle from afar.
Foolish women of the city, says Froment, began to weep and to groan.
'Alas! our good saints, our sacred images (they said) before which we
used to kneel!... Whom shall we adore now?'—and they 'cursed those dogs
(_cagnes_).'

A new and still more striking act increased the wrath of the priests and
that of their partisans. Of all the Romish dogmas there was none which
more disgusted the huguenots than transubstantiation. To affirm it (they
maintained) was to presume that Jesus Christ, man and God, was
transformed into a little cake. And hence a French refugee, Maigret,
surnamed the Magnificent, a man without pity for Roman errors, having
found some wafers in the church, threw them upon the ground; his dog,
who followed him, sprang upon them and ate them up. 'Now if these little
cakes had been real gods,' said the pitiless Maigret, 'they would not
have allowed themselves to be eaten by that beast.'[569] No one has
combated the doctrine of transubstantiation more vigorously than Calvin,
but he would not have approved of such a rude mode of acting; later, he
expressly condemned it. 'Let us not take too great license,' he said.

[Sidenote: HUGUENOT DISCOVERIES.]

The horror of the priests knew no bounds; they ran out of the church,
hastened to the hôtel-de-ville, and described to the council the violent
scenes that had just taken place. The syndics, irritated because the
huguenots had despised their orders, sent two of their number to the
cathedral—Antoine Chiquand and Ami Bandière. They were 'much excited,'
shouting and threatening 'those who had done this.' But the reformed
were not inclined to give way. They had made strange discoveries. Some
who had begun to search after the famous arm of St. Anthony—upon which,
in important cases, oaths used to be made with the ringing of bells and
great pomp, found—not the arm of the saint, but the limb of a stag.
Others, opening the precious shrine which inclosed the head of St.
Peter, brought out a piece of pumice-stone instead of the skull. 'See,'
they exclaimed, showing these objects to the surrounding crowd, 'see
what the priests used to make us worship.' This gave another direction
to the indignation of the delegates from the council, and one of them,
disgusted at such mean frauds, said to the other: 'If the gods of the
priests are true gods, let them defend themselves. As for us we can do
no more.' The huguenots, wishing to make these scandals known to the
people, put the pumice-stone and the stag's bone under magnificent
canopies, and prepared to carry these precious relics of an apostle and
a saint all round the city. The novel procession attracted an immense
crowd, and the disgusting falsehoods, of which it was a proof, opened
the eyes of the most obstinate. 'Now we know,' they said, 'the value of
the priests' words! They made us pay five florins for the ceremony; they
pretended that if any one made a false oath, the saint would wither up
his hand. All that was only to frighten and plunder us.' Every one began
to despise a clergy who, for so many ages, had thus played upon the good
faith of the people. An old writer has said: '_Justæ quibus est
iræ_.'[570] 'Woe unto the Scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites!'[571]

In the evening, a certain number of citizens met together after supper,
when the more excited 'proposed that they should make the round of the
other churches and throw down the idols everywhere.'—'No,' replied the
wiser ones, 'not now; if we did it at so late an hour, folks would say,
as they did of old at Pentecost, that we are _full of new wine_. Let us
wait until to-morrow morning.'[572] This was the general opinion.

The next day, Monday the 9th of August, early in the morning, the drum
beat in the streets. Some people asked 'Whether there was any alarm of
the enemy.'—'Make yourselves easy,' they answered; 'it is only a fight
against Rome and her idols.' Everything was conducted with order: the
citizens were drawn up in their companies. Baudichon de la Maisonneuve,
Pierre Vandel, and Ami Perrin, who were the three captains of the city,
put themselves at their head, and then they all marched with drums
beating to the church of St. Gervais. It was not a tumultuous band, but
the majority of the people advancing under the orders of their regular
captains. None of those citizens had the least doubt as to the
lawfulness of his proceedings. The new crusade, like that of Peter the
Hermit, was accomplished to the cry of—_It is the will of God!_

[Sidenote: SCANDALS AT ST. GERVAIS'.]

There were at St. Gervais' scandals still greater than at St. Pierre's.
The priests, to procure money, pretended that St. Nazaire, St. Celsus,
and St. Pantaleon were buried under the high altar. When a poor woman
approached, she heard a confused noise.[573] 'It is the voices of the
holy bodies,' said the priests, 'praying to be taken up and canonized;
but that requires a large sum of money.' Others related how at the dead
of night small luminous creatures were often seen moving about the
cemetery. 'They are souls from purgatory,' explained the ecclesiastics;
'they wander about here and there asking for masses for their
deliverance.' Certain persons, wishing to learn the truth, crept one
night into the cemetery, caught some of those poor souls, and found that
they were—crabs, with small wax tapers lighted and fastened on their
backs.[574] Frivolous men laughed, but serious men, seeing to what
guilty manœuvres the priests had been driven by the love of gain, were
seized with horror. 'Avarice so excites them,' said Calvin one day,
'that there is nothing they will not try, how bad soever it may
be—treacheries, frauds innumerable, hatreds, poisonings—as soon as the
gleam of silver or gold has dazzled their eyes.'

The three captains and their companies, having reached the church, began
by exploring the vault where the three saints groaned, and discovered
the trick. They found under the altar two earthen vessels connected by a
tube, and pierced with holes like those in an organ-pipe, so that the
least noise over the vessels produced the effect of organ-bellows, and
caused a sound like the indistinct murmur of persons talking.[575] 'The
poor papists could not believe it.'—'No!' they said; 'it is St. Nazaire,
St. Celsus, and St. Pantaleon.'—'Come and see then,' answered the
reformers. They came and saw, and 'some of them from that hour refused
to believe any more in such abuses.'[576]

[Sidenote: MIRACLES AT ST. DOMINIC'S.]

The judgment having been accomplished at St. Gervais, the three captains
turned their steps towards the church of St. Dominic, one of the chief
sanctuaries of popery between the Jura and the Alps. Great miracles were
worked there: the huguenots called them 'great swindles.' A beautiful
image adorned in a costly manner, and representing Our Lady, stood in
the church, and had the power (it was said) of calling back to life the
children who had died without baptism. Poor people came to Geneva from
all the country round, with their lifeless little children, and laid
them on the altar before the image. Then a feather placed on the
infant's mouth flew into the air, or else the cheeks flushed with red:
sometimes the child perspired. The spectators cried out: 'A miracle!'
'The child is resuscitated' (_revicoullé_), said the monks. Immediately
the bells rang, the child was christened, and then buried. 'The child
had never been restored alive to its father or mother,' said the
huguenots, 'and yet they had to pay dearly for it.' The citizens lifted
up the altar and found two machines under it: on one side were certain
instruments in which they blew to make the child breathe, and on the
other some stones which were heated to make the child turn color or
perspire. An ointment with which they had smeared it became soft, and
gave a certain hue to its flesh. 'Really,' exclaimed the Genevans,
'those who believe such clumsy absurdities ought to have been
converted—into blocks!' Henceforth Our Lady ceased to work
miracles.[577]

The band of reformers, having passed to the refectory, found there a
carving representing a big fat woman at a table cutting up a large pie,
with monks seated round her. Beneath were these words from psalm
cxxxiii., _Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell
together in unity!_ At this moment Farel came up: 'Is it thus, my
fathers,' he said, 'that you interpret Holy Scripture? Have you not
jeered enough at men, but you must jeer also at the Word of God? By what
right do you adapt it to your gluttony?' 'Alas!' exclaimed the monks,
'excuse us; you have come too late to make us renounce our good
customs.'[578]

Meanwhile some huguenots had stopped before another piece of sculpture,
at which they were quite amazed. At the top they saw a devil with seven
heads: from the devil issued the pope with his triple crown; from the
pope issued the cardinals; from the cardinals the bishops, monks, and
priests ... and below them was a burning furnace representing hell. The
reformed Genevans were astonished to find in a convent of St. Dominic a
satire upon the papacy, more cutting than all that they had ever
imagined.[579]

The three captains and their companies arrived at last near the Arve,
where stood the church of Notre Dame; but the syndic, informed of what
was going on, arrived at the same time, and wishing to save a famous
picture of the Virgin, had it carried before them to the hôtel-de-ville.
There was no lack of raillery; people asked if they were going to work
miracles with the picture? and they were compelled to burn it in the
great hall to escape the jokes that were showered upon them.

The campaign was over; the citizens returned to their homes; the
Christian conscience approved of their work. The suppression of so many
shameful frauds—was it not ordered in heaven? From that day mass was
sung no longer in any of the churches.[580] The action of the citizens
was more than a popular movement: the Reform was strengthened by it. No
one would have condemned the vile tricks of the priests more than the
honest and brave Luther. Yet Luther, putting specially in the foreground
the great doctrine of man's justification by faith, thundered against
indulgences and other pretended good works, but tolerated images; while
Zwingle, Farel, and Calvin, regarding especially God, His glory, and His
grace, protested against every apotheosis of the creature, against all
paganism, and particularly against all images in the Lord's temple. Here
then was a characteristic difference between Lutheranism and the Reform.

Great was the sorrow and anger of the priests. Gathered round the ruins
of what they had adored, some remained silent while others uttered cries
of horror. The threats of the clergy were such that the alarmed council
that very day called the three captains before them, and asked if they
intended to obey orders. 'Certainly,' they replied; 'we destroyed the
images, because they were set up contrary to God's Word.' The syndics,
struck with the firmness of those men, summoned the council of Two
Hundred for the next day.[581]

The next day was the 10th of August, a memorable day which was to decide
the destiny of Geneva. There was great agitation throughout the city.
Some of the friends of Rome still hoped, trusting in the antiquity of
their forms and traditions; but the reformed believed the cause of the
Reformation gained, since there was on its side God, His Word, and the
majority of the citizens and of the councils. The two hundred senators
having taken their place, and many other persons of note sitting near
them, Farel appeared, accompanied by Pierre Viret, Jacques Bernard, and
several laymen. His slight appearance, his complexion tanned by the sun,
and his red beard, so dreaded by the priests, had nothing imposing; but
there was in that man a heart burning with love for Christ's Gospel, and
from those thick lips flowed streams of masculine eloquence which
carried away all hearers. He advanced firm and sure of the victory of
the Reformation. It is written: _Whatsoever is born of God overcometh
the world. Fear not._ There was much talking and agitation in the
assembly: the men who composed it had a presentiment of great things;
they felt the importance of the crisis, and, full of anxiety about what
would happen, fixed their eyes on Farel.

[Sidenote: FAREL BEFORE THE COUNCIL.]

Silence having been proclaimed, the reformer, holding the minutes of the
disputation in his hand, began to speak, and selected as the principal
points of the debate the worship of images and the sacrifice of the
mass. He reminded them 'that most of those who demanded their
maintenance had abstained from appearing; that others had not been able
to defend them, and that many had rejected them. 'Why,' he exclaimed,
'should not all embrace the Gospel? We are ready, my colleagues and I,
not only to make a public confession, but (if necessary) to sprinkle it
with our blood.' Then addressing the council directly, and raising his
'voice of thunder,' says a Roman-catholic author, he called upon the
assembly to deliver a judgment that should give glory to God. 'What!'
said he: 'the dominion of the papacy is falling, and would you lift your
hands to support what God is overthrowing? Will you always halt between
two opinions? If the pope really utters oracles, listen to him; but if
the voice we hear in Scripture is God's voice, do what it ordains.'—Here
Farel stopped: he felt the importance of the decision that was about to
be taken, and a profound emotion came over him. Lifting his hands
towards heaven, he exclaimed: 'O God! enlighten this council, make it
understand that Thy glory and the salvation of all this people are
concerned; humble the loud boasting of the priests,[582] and make Thy
cause triumph.' This 'earnest prayer,' as a manuscript terms it, made a
deep impression upon all who heard it.

The deliberation began: it was calm, serious, thoughtful, and marked
with all the dignity such an important affair demanded. The most earnest
reformers would have liked the immediate cessation of popery in Geneva;
but the council thought it wiser to proceed slowly. As Farel had uttered
a new challenge against the priests, the premier syndic proposed to call
upon them to defend the mass and image-worship if they could. Meanwhile
it was ordered, that (not to offend the catholics) the pulling down of
images should be stopped, and that (not to offend the reformers) the
celebration of mass should cease. These resolutions passed almost
unanimously.[583]

But Rome was already vanquished and the friends of the reformed were
eager to prove it. A layman stood up and said: 'You call up the priests,
but I am much afraid there is not one left in the city. They are all
thinking of running away and carrying off the church treasures. Why
should we always temporize? The reform of the abuses which disfigured
religion, far from damaging its existence, will restore it to itself,
just as washing a smeared and dirty picture restores it to its primitive
condition. That bishop, those priests, those citizens who run away, are
not the Church, they are only deserters.' The council resolved
unanimously that the Romish priests who fled were not carrying the
Church of Geneva with them, and ordered an inventory to be taken of all
ecclesiastical property. The sitting then broke up.[584]

[Sidenote: CONFISCATION OF CHURCH PROPERTY.]

The mass was suppressed: this was an enormous step. The abolition of the
mass was the abolition of popery. The reform was immediately carried
into execution. The next day (11th August) a formal order was issued
'neither to sing nor to say mass' in the city of Geneva. The frightened
priests obeyed: they drew in their horns, they hid themselves, and took
good care not to permit the least chant to be heard. Ere long there was
a new trouble. They saw the commissioners of the council enter the
churches and draw up an inventory of the furniture, jewels, and
ecclesiastical property. With downcast eyes and silent lips, the
ministers of Rome beheld the disappearance of the fine portraits, pyxes,
chalices, and other precious works, which were removed to a place of
safety beyond the reach of dilapidation. They were valued at more than
ten thousand crowns. From that day no Roman service was celebrated in
the city. There was not to be found among the clergy one of those
enthusiastic souls who rush into the midst of danger to uphold and to
proclaim their faith.

These bold acts were not, however, accomplished without a murmur. The
populace generally was for the Roman worship, and some opposition cries
were heard. 'If the mass is no longer sung,' said some timid souls to
the syndics, 'the people may rise.'[585] 'Ah!' said some prudent men,
'if the mass is sung again, that would create a still greater
disturbance.' The council therefore maintained the prohibition. A few
catholics, faithful to the superstitions of ages, might be seen going at
the canonical hours into the silent churches, wandering like ghosts
through the deserted aisles, and shedding tears. Alas! there were no
more chants, no more prayers, no more masses, no more litanies, no more
incense! The priests and the organ—all were silent.

In those days of great alarm a few women only displayed any courage. 'We
will not strike our colors,' said the sisters of St. Claire. And in fact
they did hear the mass, but with closed doors and in low tones in the
middle of the choir, and sometimes, for greater security, in the
refectory. Zealous catholics went and knocked stealthily at the convent
gate and begged in a whisper to be admitted to the masses celebrated
without singing and without pomp. They joined in the service with
trembling: they pricked up their ears and were alarmed at the least
noise. This fidelity did not last long. Five days later, on the 5th of
August, the feast of the Assumption, the last communion took place. The
father-confessor and his companions, after saying mass timidly, stole
out of the city.[586]

[Sidenote: CHRIST, AND NOT CEREMONIES.]

While night was gradually stretching its veil over popery and its
followers, the sun rose higher upon the friends of the Holy Scriptures.
There were no more Latin chants, no more theatrical postures, sacerdotal
garments, pictures and incense; none of those practices pleasing to the
eye, to the ear, or to the smell, which had so long reigned in the
Church; but in their place Jesus Christ;—Christ, in the past, making
atonement on the cross for the sins of His people;—Christ, in the
present, always in the midst of His followers, vivifying, sanctifying,
and consoling their hearts. These Christian men had entered into the new
era of truth and charity, to which the reformers invited them. While the
councils were busy particularly with the maintenance of tranquillity;
while the great body sought only independence and liberty—precious
goods, but which cannot suffice—the small body of truly pious souls,
acknowledging the Son of God as the author of a new life, were decided
to follow wherever He should lead them.

The fall of the mass, which dates from the 10th of August, was regarded
by the reformed as a sign of victory, and the Genevan Church, adopting
this idea, celebrates every century in the month of August (reckoning
from 1535) the jubilee of its reformation. After three years of
struggles the first victory was gained; but a fourth year was to pass
away before the definitive establishment of the Reform. Let us therefore
continue our march until May 1536, and even until the arrival of Calvin.

[563] Psalms cxiv. and cxv. In the Vulgate cxiii.

[564] 'Their idols are silver and gold, the work of men's hands. They
have mouths but they speak not; eyes have they but they see not. They
that make them are like unto them, so is every one that trusteth in
them.'

[565] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 144.

[566] 'Les marmousets des prêtres.'

[567] M. Guizot.

[568] Sozomenes, vii. 15.

[569] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 146.

[570] Virgil, _Æneid_, x. 716.

 But otherwise the troops, with hate inspired And _just revenge_,
 against the tyrant _fired_.—Dryden.

[571] Matthew, xxiii. 14.

[572] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, pp. 144-146.—Registres du Conseil du
8 Août 1535.

[573] 'Bonæ vetulæ mulieres solebant suos chapelettos, in eas quas
credebant ibidem esse sanctas reliquias, demergere.'—Registres du
Conseil du 8 Décembre 1535.

[574] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 149.

[575] 'Duo vasta terrea habebant vaginam seu conductum terreum de uno ad
alium; adeo ut vasa, sic sibi respondentia, resonarent ad modum murmuris
hominis.'—Registres du Conseil du 8 Août 1535.

[576] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 150.

[577] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 152.

[578] _Ibid._ p. 151.

[579] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 153. An engraving of this picture
is given in the edition of Froment published by M. Revilliod.

[580] Registres du Conseil du 9 Août 1535.

[581] Registres du Conseil du 9 Août 1535.

[582] 'Rabats le haut caquet des prêtres.'

[583] Registres du Conseil du 10 Août 1535.—MSC. Chouet.

[584] _Ibid._—Chronique de Roset, iii. ch. xxxvii.

[585] Registres du Conseil, ad annum.

[586] Jeanne de Jussie, _Commencement de l'Hérésie dans Genève_, pp.
144, 145.—Registres du Conseil des 10 et 12 Août.—Chron. MSC. de Roset.




 CHAPTER VII.
 PRIESTS, MONKS, NUNS, AND VICAR-GENERAL DEPART.
 (AUGUST TO DECEMBER 1535.)


The Reformation protested against the hierarchy. It denied that Christ
had given to the Church or to its heads the power of making laws by the
fulfilment of which Christians would be justified before God. The
Reformation protested against monkery. It denied that a cloistered life
could merit salvation and give a piety superior to what the Word of God
requires of all Christians; it reproached the monastic discipline with
lowering the divine institutions of marriage, government, and labor; and
was an occasion of backsliding and unheard-of scandal.

[Sidenote: THE MONKS ARE DUMB.]

The priests were about to quit Geneva and carry away with them those
abuses; but the council, which always studied to proceed by equitable
ways, would not condemn them without hearing them. The monks of the
different convents, demoralized and trembling like culprits, had, it is
true, fled in great numbers. Still there were some remaining, and they
received an order to appear before the Great Council to defend their
faith. They were very alarmed, but the order was peremptory. On the
morning of the 12th of August those members of the order of St. Dominic,
St. Augustin, St. Francis, and the minors of Ste. Claire who were still
in Geneva arrived at the hôtel-de-ville. They were twelve in number, a
poor remnant of those powerful bodies who for long had possessed such
great power in the city. The twelve, standing with bent heads before the
council, heard a summary of the disputation read, and this added to
their alarm. The premier syndic having asked them if they had anything
to say in favor of the mass and of images, all remained silent. St.
Dominic, St. Francis, and even St. Augustin were dumb before the Reform.
The syndics, desiring at any price to extract a sound from them, ordered
the monks to be called up one after the other. Chapelain, a brother of
St. Dominic, was called first. 'We are simple people,' he said, 'who
cannot answer for want of knowledge. We are accustomed to live as our
fathers lived and to believe as the Church does. Do not ask us about
matters beyond our reach.' The other monks were unanimous in requesting
that they might be permitted not to inquire into such questions. Monkery
fell in Geneva amid universal astonishment and indignation.

But after the monks came the priests. Monseigneur de Bonmont,
vicar-episcopal, had, at the request of the council, assembled the
canons and the secular clergy at his house. The same day (12th August)
in the afternoon, a distinguished deputation of syndics and councillors,
wishing to honor the church, went to the grand-vicar, instead of making
him come to the hôtel-de-ville like the monks. The wise and pious
Savoye, who had been elected spokesman, informed the priests that a
summary of the great disputation having been drawn up, it was about to
be read to them, 'that they might come to a better decision.' The latter
displayed less weakness than the monks. Indignant that laymen should
presume to catechise the priesthood, they replied haughtily: 'We do not
want to hear your debate, and we do not care what Farel said. We wish to
live as we have hitherto done, and beg you will leave us in peace.' As
the priests rejected the opportunity given them of justifying their
doctrines, the representatives of the state interdicted them from
celebrating mass until further orders. Some days later the council
ordered them 'to worship God according to the Gospel,' and forbade them
to perform 'any act of popish idolatry.'[587]

A great and salutary revolution was thus carried out. The Romish
priests, seeing their vast temples now silent, their rich abbeys now
bare, and themselves reduced to silence, determined to quit Geneva. The
fear of being detained made them have recourse to various expedients. In
the evening or early in the morning they stole out of the city, or else,
hiding in some corner during the day, they fled during the night.
Priests, laymen, women holding their children's hands, bade adieu to the
cheerful city, to the shores of the beautiful lake, and to its smiling
hills. They loved Rome and Rome was sufficient for them. On the 13th of
August a cry of alarm was heard in the council: 'Geneva,' it was said,
'by losing a part of its population, will lose its importance.' But it
was the contrary that happened. Confessors of the Gospel compelled to
quit their country in the cause of faith, and especially Frenchmen, were
to fill up the void made by the adherents of the pope.

The exodus continued day and night, but not without difficulty. Jean
Regis, a priest, and two of his colleagues crept one dark night to the
back of St. Victor's convent, entered the stables, and took out three
horses. They were preparing to mount them when they were arrested. The
council assembled at two hours after midnight, and sent to prison the
priests who were running away on stolen horses.[588] The council
prevented the clergy from laying hands upon what did not belong to them,
but not from going wherever they pleased.

A great number of ecclesiastics and laymen succeeded, however, in
gaining the states of the Duke of Savoy, and wherever they went they
stirred up the anger of the catholics against Geneva. The storm that was
brewing became more threatening. It was not enough for the Genevans to
see their fields laid waste, they learnt from Savoy that the city itself
was going to be destroyed. The citizens thrilled with anger: 'As the
attack is to take place in favor of popery,' they said, 'it is right
that popery should pay for the defence.' The council, therefore, decided
that the church jewels should be devoted to the necessities of the
state. The priests of St. Germain, St. Gervais, and other parishes
brought their reliquaries and vessels; but the proctors of the Madeleine
appeared empty-handed at the hôtel-de-ville, and said: 'By what right do
you demand our treasures?' At the same time the ex-syndic, Jean Balard,
and other catholics, seizing the opportunity, exclaimed: 'Why do you
deprive us of our masses?' But the council was firm, and the priests of
the Madeleine, quite broken-hearted, were obliged to bring their
chalices and other vessels to aid in combating the defenders of their
faith. As the value of these ornaments did not exceed three hundred
crowns, those of St. Pierre were added to them.[589]

[Sidenote: PAUL III. INFORMED.]

It was time for Geneva to be on its guard. At the beginning of September
1535, the ambassador from the duke of Savoy, prince of Piedmont,
informed the pope (on behalf of his master) of what had taken place and
asked for prompt repression. He told the pontiff that 'on the 10th of
August the wretched Lutherans had abolished religion; that they had
entered the churches, had thrown out the relics and the images, had
proclaimed the mass to be an abuse, and had set the ministers
preaching.' Paul III. was thunderstruck; but true to his silent habits,
he only expressed his surprise by signs. He shrugged his shoulders, said
the ambassador, as if a thrill of horror had run through him. Then
bowing his head he sighed gently, and said in a low tone: 'Holy Virgin!
Holy Virgin!' and sank into a deep silence. But if his lips were dumb
and his body motionless, his mind, full of activity, was agitated and
sought some means of conjuring the evil. At last, breaking silence, he
turned to the ambassador: 'Tell the duke that he has behaved like a good
servant of the Church. He has done all in his power to prevent this
disaster. Let him persevere in the same course.'[590] The duke
understood him, and, secure of the support of the pope and of his
brother-in-law the emperor, he continued his preparations against
Geneva.

[Sidenote: FAREL PREACHES TO THE NUNS.]

During this time the houses of the priests who remained in the city, and
the aisles of the almost deserted cloisters, resounded with wailings.
This was particularly the case in the convent of St. Claire.

  . . . Penitusque cavæ plangoribus ædes
  Femineis ululant.[591]

That convent was the only one worthy of any interest: the reformers
wished to attempt to introduce a little light into it. The Sunday of the
Octave after the Visitation of the Virgin, the syndics, with Farel,
Viret, one of the monks who had embraced the reform, and about a dozen
notables of the city, made their appearance there about ten o'clock.
When the sisters were assembled, Farel took for his text the gospel of
the day: '_Maria abiit cum festinatione in civitatem Judæ_:' 'Mary went
with haste into a city of Juda,'[592] and tried to enlighten the nuns.
'You see,' he said, 'the Virgin Mary did not lead a solitary life; she
was diligent in aiding others, and went to the town where her cousin,
who was older than herself, lived, in order to do her a service. God
said in the days of the Creation: _It is not good that the man should be
alone_. Why then should man contradict this law of God? The Lord is
unwilling that any restraint should be imposed upon the conscience,
since he has given it liberty. The service rendered to God in the
cloisters is therefore a diabolical tyranny.' At these words the
mother-vicar, a violent woman, rose hastily, left her seat, went and put
herself between the sisters and the _heretics_, and said sharply to the
latter: 'Be off, for you will gain nothing here!'—'Return to your
place,' said the syndics; but the mother replied: 'I will do nothing of
the sort.' Consequently they turned her out.

Farel continued: 'What is this monastic life that is substituted for
holy matrimony and liberty? It is a life full of great abuses, monstrous
errors, and carnal corruption.' At these words the sisters began to cry
out, 'It is a falsehood,' and spat at the reformer in their wrath.[593]
But Farel, who had suffered worse things than this, said to the
confessor: 'We know that many of these poor young women would willingly
come to the truth and liberty, if you and the old ones did not keep them
so close.' While saying these words he was stopped by loud blows which
prevented his being heard. It was the mother-vicar, who had been
listening to him; she struck against the partition with her fists, and
cried out: 'Hah! you wretched, cursed man! You are wasting your coaxing
words. Bah! you will make nothing of them!' She then backed up her words
by a terrible drumming upon the panels.[594] Some of the sisters stopped
their ears with wax, so as not to hear Farel's sermon. The latter,
calling to mind the saying, _Give not that which is holy unto the dogs_,
retired, and the deputation went down the staircase. The monk who had
embraced the Reform was the last of the file; one of the sisters walked
behind him, thumping him on the shoulders with her fists, and saying:
'Wretched apostate, out of my sight!' 'But this fine fellow did not seem
to notice them,' says Jeanne, who was present; 'he said not a word, his
tongue was palsied.'[595] The same could not be said of the
mother-vicar, and some others, who kept on vociferating and thumping.
Farel returned no more to the convent.

One nun, however, had opened her heart to the Gospel. Claudine Levet,
who had a sister named Blaisine Varembert, in the cloister, had often
visited her, had given her a New Testament, and prayed night and day to
God that Blaisine might be enlightened. The latter was touched with the
love of the Saviour, of which Claudine had spoken to her; and on the
festival of Corpus Christi she refused to adore the holy sacrament.
Three of the sisters fell upon her, 'and bruised her all over.' They put
her in prison, and tied her hands and feet. 'Ah!' said Blaisine, 'you
keep me in prison, because I reproach you for making good cheer and
living in strife with one another day and night.'[596]

Claudine Levet and some other Genevan ladies, with Baudichon de la
Maisonneuve and Pierre Vandel, went to the convent with the intention of
liberating the poor girl. The mother-vicar 'stood upright on her feet,'
and said: 'Gentlemen, consider well what you are about to do, for if any
man comes near, either he or I shall die upon the spot.'[597] Upon this,
the men remaining in the background, two or three ladies approached the
prisoner. The latter, standing by the side of her sister, declared that
she desired to serve God purely, according to Holy Scripture, and added
that she was detained in the convent against her will. 'In that case you
are free,' said De la Maisonneuve. To no purpose did the mother-vicar
rush impetuously forward, wishing to detain her by force, and several
nuns did the same; Blaisine left the convent without saying a word,
entered a neighboring house, took off her religious dress, and went in
plain garments to her sister's.[598]

Claudine and Blaisine could not, however, make up their minds to abandon
the poor recluses. Possessing the Word of God, and the salvation that it
announces, they desired to share their good things with them. The
Genevese ladies, attached to the Gospel, had much faith and activity.
The two sisters, therefore, returned to the convent on Saturday, 28th,
and Sunday, 29th August, and Dame Claude began to speak; but the nuns
tossed their heads, and called out: 'Oh the great story-teller! Oh the
devil incarnate!' And the mother-vicar, turning towards a syndic who had
accompanied Claudine, along with other 'respectable persons,' said:
'Take that witch away from here.' 'Beware how you abuse her,' answered
the magistrate, 'for she is a holy creature, enlightened by the true
God, and produces great fruits by her divine doctrines, converting the
poor ignorant people, and continually taking great pains for the
salvation of souls.' '_Convert_,' exclaimed the superior, 'you should
rather say _pervert_.' At the same time the sisters spat in her face,
according to the report of one of their number.[599]

[Sidenote: DEPARTURE OF THE NUNS.]

When the syndic saw this, he lost all hope. The duke of Savoy invited
the sisters to take refuge in his states, making them fine promises.
'Fair ladies,' said the magistrate, 'name the day you wish to
depart.'—'To-morrow,' said the mother-superior, 'to-morrow, at
daybreak.'—'Fair ladies,' resumed the syndic, 'pack up your goods.'[600]

Early next morning the syndics arrived, when the sisters, after singing
a _De Profundis_, put their breviaries under their arm, and drew up in
two ranks. The mother-vicar placed the young sisters, who might have any
longing to quit the veil, by the side of some sturdy nuns who could
detain them. A great crowd had assembled before the convent and in the
streets. Seeing this, many of the nuns 'shrank back with fear,' but the
courageous superior said, with animation: 'Cheer up, my sisters, make
the sign of the cross, and keep our Lord in your hearts.' They stepped
forward. This procession of veiled and silent women represented
Roman-catholicism leaving Geneva. Sobs were heard here and there. Three
hundred archers marched in front, behind, and at the side of the nuns,
to protect them. 'If any one moves,' said the syndic to the spectators,
'he shall lose his head.' The crowd looked on silently as the sisters
passed along.[601]

When the procession arrived at the Arve bridge, where the territory of
the city ceased, the nuns, who had imagined they would find the duke and
his court waiting at the frontiers of his states to receive them with
great honor, could see nobody. A poor monk alone appeared, bringing a
wretched wagon, in order to carry the old and sick.[602]

The rain and the muddy roads delayed their progress. The poor nuns, who
knew nothing but their convent, were startled at everything. Seeing a
few sheep grazing in a meadow, they screamed aloud, taking them (says
one of the sisters) for _ravening wolves_. A little farther on, some
cows which were in the fields, attracted by this troop passing along,
stretched out their heads towards the road, and lowed. The nuns imagined
they were _hungry bears_, and had not even strength to run away. At
nightfall they reached St. Julien, having taken fifteen hours to go a
short league. The next day they entered Annecy, where the duke gave them
the monastery of the Holy Cross. All the bells of the city rang at their
arrival. Here the poor nuns found some repose; but they did not forget
the judgment of God that had banished them from Geneva, and did not hide
the cause of their misfortunes. 'Ah!' said Sister Jeanne de Jussie, 'the
prelates and churchmen did not observe their vows at this time, but
squandered dissolutely the ecclesiastical property, keeping women in
adultery and lubricity, and _awakening the anger of God_, which brought
divine punishment on them.'[603]

If the truth extorted such a confession from a nun, an honest but
fanatical disciple of popery, we may understand what the reformed
thought and said. A cry came from their hearts against the immorality
and hypocrisy of those who ought to have been their guides. Hence there
was great agitation among the priests; they came running in a distracted
manner to Monseigneur de Bonmont, and asking him: 'What is to be done?
must we stay or go?'

[Sidenote: FLIGHT OF THE GRAND-VICAR.]

The grand-vicar thought it was necessary to go. Public opinion declared
unequivocally against him: he was one of those priests who called forth
Sister Jeanne's reproof. 'Monseigneur keeps in his house several
mistresses and agents of debauchery,' people said. 'Gaming, _mots de
gueule_, dances, banquets, impudicity, and every kind of dissolute
living, are his delight. He generally has five vile prostitutes at his
table, seated according to their degree, two at his right and two at his
left, while the oldest waits upon the others. He smiles when he talks of
impudicity, and says, "It is a mere backsliding, and does not count."'
Seeing the storm grow darker, the wretched priest was terrified in his
conscience, and resolved to act like his bishop, and quit a city where
he could no longer live as he had always lived. The Reformation was the
re-establishment of morality as well as of faith. Monseigneur fled to
the mountain, to solitude in the abbey of Bonmont, near Nyon, on a spur
of the Jura, which overlooks Lake Leman and its rich valley. Another
terror was soon to drive him thence.[604]

The anger of God (spoken of by Jeanne) continued to work out his
judgments: opprobrium accumulated on those priests who had thought
themselves the kings of the earth. On the 18th of September, some of the
citizens having caught one of them in an act of impurity, they set him
on a donkey, and paraded him thus through the city, making his mistress,
disguised as a lackey, walk behind him. Serious men disapproved of such
buffoonery. 'Ah!' they said, 'disease, the consequence of their
disorders, has so punished them, that as we see them pass along in their
processions we might imagine them to be soldiers returning from the war,
they are so covered with scars—true martyrs of the pope!'[605] The
magistrates would have liked not to punish them, not to banish them, but
to reform them. 'Give up,' they said, 'your dances, gluttony, and
dissolute living, and dwell in our city according to God's law, like
citizens and good friends.' But that seemed too difficult for the
priests: they preferred to leave Geneva.

The most active, however, remained. Dupan and some of his colleagues
went from house to house, strengthening the weak. They might be seen
passing along the streets, wearing their sacerdotal vestments. If a
child was born, they hastened to christen it according to the Roman
ritual; if fervent Catholics desired the sacrament, they met secretly in
some chamber, knelt down before a hastily constructed altar, crossed
themselves, and said mass. They even carried their zeal so far as to
visit certain of the reformed, in order to bring them back to the fold
of the Church. At the very moment when the edifice was giving way on all
sides, their natural inflexibility and enthusiasm for the papacy made
them remain, as if their feeble hands were sufficient to support it.
Such courage claims our admiration, but the reformed considered it
rather as a matter for serious anxiety. They felt the necessity of
concord and unity at this critical moment. 'See what your condescension
exposes us to,' they said to the magistrates. 'Just as the enemy is
marching against the city, these priests are going to stir up a civil
war within our gates.'[606]

[Sidenote: HOSPITAL AND SCHOOL FOUNDED.]

The syndics who knew the danger and the necessities of the city, thought
that the best means of securing to Geneva her independence and her
faith, would be to set everything in good order. The Reformation is a
good tree; let it therefore bear its fruit! Christians ought to take
care of their sick and of their poor. Accordingly, a general hospital
was founded at Ste. Claire, and endowed with the revenues of the old
hospitals and the property become ownerless through the departure of the
ecclesiastics. Claude Salomon, one of the most fervent evangelicals,
dedicated himself, his wife, and his fortune to its service.

Christians ought to take care of their children. It is true that in
1429, F. de Versonex, the syndic, had founded a school where grammar,
logic, and the liberal arts were taught; but the director of that
institution having left the city, the school had been shut. It must be
restored and improved. Farel and his friends required that the
instruction should be universal—for all children. The school was
established in the place which is still named Rue du Vieux Collège, and
its direction intrusted to Saunier, a capable man.[607]

After the extirpation of ignorance came the suppression of mendicity. An
order was published by sound of trumpet on the 29th of October, 'that no
person should beg, but seek shelter in the poor-house.'[608]

Subsequently these institutions received important developments. It was
not until the period when the college and academy were founded by Calvin
that instruction took a start in Geneva, which carried intellectual
culture to such a height in that city. But the starting-point was
Saunier's college, where primary instruction was mixed up with religion.
The Reformation launched Geneva like a ship, which at first coasts along
the nearest shores, but reaches at last the remotest seas. It was not
simply a matter of theological dogma, as some believe; it developed the
conscience, the understanding, and the heart, and regulated the will. It
did not form merely a few Christian men; it gave to that city a new
people, school, church, literature, science, and charity; it gave new
value to the great interests of man, and called into existence a
well-spring of useful research and elevated thoughts. The Reformation
was able to say:

  Humani nihil a me alienum puto.[609]

[Sidenote: ROMANISM ENDS IN GENEVA.]

While the council was carrying out these beneficent measures, a certain
number of agitated and restless priests kept going from house to house,
consulting together and professing opinions that tended to rebellion.
Instead of taking harsh measures against them, the magistrates loyally
determined to give them a fresh opportunity of defending their faith. On
the 29th of November thirty priests, headed by Dupan, appeared before
the council. There were still thirty priests in Geneva and only three
ministers! It was not, therefore, by numbers and by the might of man,
that the Reformation was established, but by the power of God. The
premier syndic asked them to undertake the defence of popery. 'We have
neither the ability nor the learning,' answered Dupan; and he added:
'Sooner than expose our religion to a new discussion, we will give up
all pastoral functions.' The priesthood abdicated. On the 6th of
December the council again called the priests before them, and gave them
this option: 'If your doctrine is good, defend it; if bad, renounce it.'
Then the break-up began. 'For a long time,' said Delorme, 'I have been
saying mass unwillingly,' and he passed over, with others, to the side
of the Reform. Some left the city; and the council required that those
who remained 'should wear other hats,' and live like the rest of the
citizens. Lastly, wishing to make it evident that there was no longer in
Geneva either bishop or prince, the council voted that the episcopal
palace should be converted into a prison.[610] This was no change in its
destination, according to certain sarcastic huguenots, since the bishop
and his see had never been of any use but to keep liberty captive. Thus
ended the existence of the Romish priesthood in Geneva. The magistrates,
far from persecuting catholicism, had on several occasions put the
priests in a position to defend it: it was the religion of the popes
that fled and made way for the religion of the Holy Scriptures. Complete
religions liberty, the conquest of modern times, did not certainly
preside at that day in the councils of the republic; but as an historian
of Geneva, who is not a protestant, has said, 'We must not demand of an
age ideas, theories, and acts which could not exist until after events
and revolutions still to come.'[611]

Seeing that the priests were departing, that their chants no longer
re-echoed through the lofty Gothic aisles, that the tapers no longer
burnt upon the gorgeous altars and the varied ceremonial had
disappeared, Farel, Viret, and Froment came forward and said: 'We are
ready to preach without sparing ourselves either weariness or labor, and
to employ all the power of the Word to lead the flock into the straight
road with wisdom and gentleness.' And in fact from that hour the Word
which awakeneth and teacheth was heard daily in the churches, and
particularly at St. Pierre and St. Gervais. The hearers said that these
true ministers of the Gospel 'did not behave like old-clothes men
(_revendeurs_), who are accustomed to polish up their wares and put a
gloss upon their old rags, in order to get more money for them; but they
offered the pure and simple doctrine of Jesus Christ.' Many felt that
the Word of God was a sword which pierces to the heart and kills the old
man in such a manner that a new man takes the place of him that was
slain.

Farel assembled the people in the cathedral in order that they should
all pray for peace to God who giveth it.[612] These prayers ascended to
heaven. Geneva was to have peace, but after new trials.

[587] Registres du Conseil du 12 Août.—Chronique MSC. de Roset.

[588] Registres du Conseil du 12 Août.

[589] Registres du Conseil des 16 et 17 Août 1535.

[590] Archives de Turin. Mémoire sur les droits de la maison de Savoye.

[591] Virgil, _Æneid_, ii. 487. 'Shrieks of women rend the vaulted
skies.'—_Dryden._

[592] Luke, i. 39.

[593] Jeanne de Jussie, _Commencement de l'Hérésie dans Genève_, p. 131.

[594] _Ibid._

[595] 'Ce brave homme n'en faisait aucun semblant, ni oncques dit mot;
il avait la langue amortie.'

[596] 'Vous faites bonne chère et vivez en noise.'—Jeanne de Jussie,
_Commencement de l'Hérésie dans Genève_, pp. 170-173.

[597] _Ibid._ pp. 141-148.

[598] Jeanne de Jussie, _Commencement de l'Hérésie dans Genève_, pp.
150-152. Registres du Conseil du 25 Août 1535.

[599] 'Décrachaient.'—Jeanne de Jussie.

[600] Jeanne de Jussie, _Commencement de l'Hérésie dans Genève_, pp.
175, 189, 197.

[601] Jeanne de Jussie, _Commencement de l'Hérésie dans Genève_, pp.
192, 197.

[602] _Ibid._ pp. 199-201.

[603] Jeanne de Jussie, _Commencement de l'Hérésie dans Genève_, pp. 34,
201-223.

[604] Jeanne de Jussie, _Commencement de l'Hérésie dans Genève_,
p. 34.—Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 157.

[605] Jeanne de Jussie, _Commencement de l'Hérésie dans Genève_, pp.
154-160.—Roset, Chron. MSC. liv. iii. ch. xxxvii.

[606] Registres des Conseils des 15 Octobre, 12 et 29 Novembre 1535.

[607] He was probably the writer of a treatise entitled _Ordre et
manière d'enseigner en la ville de Genève, au collège_, recently
reprinted by Professor Bétant.

[608] Registres du Conseil des 27 Août, 7 et 17 Septembre, 29 Octobre,
12, 14 et 15 Novembre 1535.—Des Hôpitaux de Genève.—_Mémoires
d'Archéologie_, iii. pp. 155-366.

[609] 'Nothing that concerns mankind is indifferent to me.'

[610] Registres du Conseil des 12, 23, 24 et 29 Novembre, 6 Décembre
1535.

[611] Thourel, _Histoire de Genève_, ii. p. 163.

[612] Kirchhofer, _Farel_, p. 193.




 CHAPTER VIII.
 AN ENERGETIC CITIZEN CALLS SWITZERLAND TO HELP
 GENEVA AND THE REFORMATION.
 (SEPTEMBER AND OCTOBER 1535.)


[Sidenote: THE COMING TEMPEST.]

The joy which then filled Geneva was not to be of long duration. The sky
was fair, and yet certain signs indicated that the tempest was not far
off. The Reformation which had been accomplished excited the most
serious uneasiness at Turin, at Rome, and around the puissant Charles V.
Hitherto a few desultory attacks had been made against the city: its
territory had been laid waste, its provisions intercepted, and ladders
had been placed against its walls: but now a regular campaign was about
to be opened, and the enemy were decided not to lay down their arms
until they had taken it and transformed it into a popish and Savoyard
city. The partisans of Rome felt their danger; they saw that as Geneva
was at the gates of France, Italy, and Germany, if the Reformation was
settled there, it might compromise the existence of the papacy
itself.[613] Accordingly all their thoughts were bent on putting down
_the revolt_, though at the cost of much bloodshed, and of treating
Geneva as Alby, 'of holy and illustrious memory,' had been treated
formerly. Paul III., a friend of the world and of the fine arts, wished,
however, to employ milder means at first—to reduce the city by famine.
'These Lutherans of four days' standing,' he said, 'will soon be
disgusted with their heresy.' He was deceived, but the duke of Savoy did
not share his mistake. That prince, who showed a certain kindness
towards his party, was hard, violent, and merciless whenever Geneva was
concerned. He was to be the Simon de Montfort of the new crusade. 'It is
impossible,' people said, 'that the Genevans can hold out in the face of
the duke's alliances. On the one hand, there is his brother-in-law the
emperor, his nephew the king of France, his father-in-law the king of
Portugal, and his allies the Swiss; and then all his own subjects, who
hem in Geneva for two hundred leagues round, as wolves surround a fold
of helpless sheep. On the other hand, there is the pope, the cardinals,
the bishops, and the priests, whose favor and support the bishop of
Geneva possesses.'[614] The cabinet of Turin resolved, therefore, to set
to work. On the 30th of August the duke publicly proclaimed Geneva as
infected with the plague, forbade his subjects, under pain of death, to
have any communication with its inhabitants, and promised hospitality in
his states to all who desired to escape from the pestilence. It was
thought in Piedmont that only a few mischief-makers would remain, and
that one bold stroke would make the ducal army master of the city.
Everything was prepared in the states of Charles IV. to strike a
decisive blow.[615]

[Sidenote: THE EMPEROR'S PROJECTS.]

On the 28th of August and 24th of September, numerous companies came as
far as the gates of Geneva, but the citizens drove them back. These were
mere skirmishes of outposts: more formidable attacks were in
preparation. Charles V., victorious over Barbarossa, called upon the
Swiss League, assembled at Baden near Zurich, to give material help to
the duke of Savoy. It was said in many quarters that the plan of that
ambitious monarch was to destroy four cities—Algiers, Geneva,
Wittemberg, and Constantinople—two cities of the Koran and two of the
Gospel. Did not an old prophecy speak of an emperor who was to achieve
the conquest of the world, command 'the adoration of the cross under
pain of death, and then be crowned at Jerusalem by _an angel of
God_?'—'That emperor,' said many, 'is Charles V.'[616]

Alarm was beginning to creep over the Genevese people; the councils
deliberated, but in vain, as to what could be done to save the city.
Fathers and mothers sat by their firesides with downcast eyes, silent
lips, and foreheads burdened with care; and groups collected here and
there in the streets, talking earnestly about their misfortunes! 'All
round the city there is nothing but fighting, blockade of provisions,
plunder, and conflagration. Within the city correspondence on a large
scale with the enemy. How can a handful of men resist such a multitude?'
Then the preachers of the Word pointed to the glorious deliverances
recorded in the Scriptures. 'God will do the same for you to-day,' they
said, 'provided you place your whole trust in Him.' And lifted up by
that mighty word, those men against whom princes took counsel together,
exclaimed: 'We will place our hope and our refuge in God alone.'[617]

Charles III., encouraged by the emperor's support, sent his ambassadors
to the Swiss Cantons, and demanded that the duke and the bishop,
'escorted by my Lords of Berne, should be brought back to Geneva, to
resume all their pre-eminence therein; and that no person should make
innovations.' Happily the deputies from Geneva—Lullin, Des Clefs, and
Claude Savoye were there, and remained firm as rocks to uphold the
rights of their country. The Swiss, finding the two parties equally
inflexible, withdrew, saying: 'This affair of Geneva tires us to death;
get out of it the best way you can!' Lullin and Des Clefs returned to
Geneva; but Claude Savoye, determined to obtain help, remained in the
territories of the League.[618]

The hopes of this energetic reformer were not without some foundation.
When the council of Berne had heard of the abolition of the mass at
Geneva, they had rejoiced, and, on the 28th of August, had written a
letter of congratulation to the magistrates: 'Seeing that you have
learnt the truth,' they said, 'be watchful over it and persevere firmly.
So doing, be not afraid that God will let you be destroyed at last.'
Claude Savoye departed for Berne, and on arriving there went from house
to house and appeared before the heads of the State, 'What!' said he,
'you sent us your minister Farel, and now that we have obeyed the Word
which he preached to us, you deliver us up into the cruel hands of our
enemies.' That noble reformer, Berthold Haller, supported him with all
his strength, and called upon Berne 'not to abandon Geneva
faint-heartedly.' Meanwhile the deputies from Turin canvassed the lords
of the council on the opposite side. Self-interest prevailed among the
patricians. 'Raise troops for your own defence,' they told Claude
Savoye, 'provided it be not on our territory; all that we can possibly
do for you is to commend you to God's grace.' And they ended with this
expressive but familiar saying: 'The shirt is nearer to us than the
coat.'[619]

[Sidenote: GENEVA TRUSTS IN GOD.]

When the Genevans heard of Berne's refusal, they were thunderstruck.
Berne, reformed like themselves, abandoned them! The faith, so necessary
to nations, began to waver in many hearts; but Farel endeavored to
strengthen those who were shaken. 'Certainly,' he said to them, 'my
lords of Berne have sent us to a great and strong master—to God. He it
is who will have all the honor of our deliverance, and not men. He has
done mightier things than this. He always shows his power in what is
desperate; and when it seems that all is lost, it is then that all is
won.'[620]

The court of Turin did not think like Farel, and seeing the Swiss
abandoning Geneva, it felt no doubt that the city, coveted so long,
would soon fall into its hands. It was desirable to take advantage of
the dejection of the citizens; and accordingly the Piedmontese cabinet
hastily sent ambassadors to summon 'my lords of Geneva,' in the name of
their masters, to expel heresy and the heresiarchs, to restore the
bishop and clergy to their rights, and to set up the images again. But
the Genevese, prouder still in misfortune than in prosperity, replied to
the envoys: 'Noble lords, we will sacrifice our fortunes, our interests,
our children, our blood, and our lives in defence of the Word of God.
And sooner than betray that holy trust we will set fire to the four
corners of our city, as our Helvetian ancestors once did.'[621] The
ambassadors carried back this heroic answer to their master, and the
duke pressed forward his preparations.

A danger not less great—possibly greater—threatened Geneva: discord. An
implacable hatred 'like that which in old times existed between Cæsar
and Pompey,' says Froment, divided the captain-general Philippe and the
syndic Michael Sept; a fatal hatred whence proceeded great woes, with
loss of goods, of honor, and of men, exile, and death. Some took part
with Philippe, others with Michael Sept. 'When the eldest son of the
captain-general,' said the former, 'was taken prisoner by the men of
Peney, who offered to exchange him against a number of their comrades
who were imprisoned in Geneva, Michael Sept answered: "No, it would be
contrary to the interests of the state."'—'It is true,' replied the
syndic's friends, 'but did he not add: "Let us redeem Philippe's son; I
will give three hundred crowns as my share. If it were the case of my
own child, my advice would not be different."' The council having
refused the exchange in consequence of this advice, the captain-general,
a liberal and brave but haughty, turbulent, and violent man, swore a
deadly animosity against Michael Sept. He scattered fire and flame
everywhere against that venerable magistrate, and sacrificing the
interests of his country to his resentment, he retired murmuring to his
tent. 'I am sick,' he replied, 'I will be captain-general no longer.'
Extreme susceptibility may ruin a man and sometimes a state.

The retirement of the captain-general, in the serious position in which
Geneva was now placed, as well as the divisions with which it was
accompanied, greatly increased the danger of the city. Moreover, they
did not know whom to appoint as Philippe's successor. Many named
Baudichon de la Maisonneuve; but he was hasty and impetuous like the
other, and the council would have liked a more sedate, more penetrating,
more prudent character; they feared the eagerness and want of
circumspection of that daring citizen. But his friends represented that
nobody was more devoted to the cause of independence and of the Gospel;
and that what they wanted now was a chief full of courage and zeal. De
la Maisonneuve was appointed captain-general.

The new commander immediately called a muster of all the men who were
ready to march out with him against the enemy. They were but four
hundred in all. It mattered not. De la Maisonneuve grasped a banner on
which he had ordered some fiery tears to be emblazoned. Greater
simplicity might have been more becoming at such a moment; yet it was a
deep and true feeling of the tragical position in which Geneva was
placed that animated the captain-general. He waved his standard before
his four hundred soldiers, and exclaimed: 'Let every one be prepared to
die. It is not common tears that we must shed, but tears of blood!'

[Sidenote: THE GENEVANS IMPLORE DIVINE AID.]

On returning into the city, the little army went to the churches. Farel
had as much ardor in praying as Baudichon in fighting. Every day there
were sermons and prayers to the Lord. 'O God,' said the reformer, 'be
pleased to defend thy cause!'[622]

In truth, it was not only the independence of Geneva that was
threatened, but the Reformation. The Genevans enumerated their
sufferings, outrages, poverty, famine, cold, loss of goods, furniture,
and cattle, stolen by bands of plunderers; young children, and even men
and women, carried off, maltreated, and put to death; attacks made at
all hours, and so violently that it was scarcely possible to hold out
longer. But greater misfortunes were still to come. Charles of Savoy,
supported by the emperor, was recruiting old Italian and Spanish
soldiers, and had selected to command them one of the cruellest captains
of the age, employed somewhat later by Charles V. against the
Protestants of Germany. The heads of the state, convinced of the danger,
made this declaration on the 3d of October: 'Our enemies are preparing
every day to attack us; so that, if God does not help us, we cannot
escape their blood-stained hands.'[623]

During this time Claude Savoye, who was soliciting help from Berne,
received nothing but refusals. He was sad and heart-stricken; all was
growing darker round him; he knew not whence aid could come. On a sudden
a ray of light cheered him. Farel had proclaimed at Neuchâtel the Gospel
he was preaching at Geneva. The towns and villages and valleys of that
country were the scene of many of the reformer's victories. He had also
preached to the mountaineers of the see of Basle, who had imagined they
were 'listening to an angel come down from heaven.' Claude Savoye,
rejected by the lords of Berne, turned his eyes towards the Jura, where
the French language being in use, it would be easy for him to plead the
cause of his country. He shook off the dust of his feet against Berne,
and departed.

There was in those parts a man known for his evangelical zeal, a friend
of Farel, and on whom Savoye thought he could reckon. Jacob Wildermuth,
or Wildermeth,[624] belonged to a family whose members had filled the
highest offices at Bienne, of which they were the hereditary mayors; but
they also possessed the citizenship of Neuchâtel, and the one of whom we
are speaking seems to have frequently resided in the latter country. His
father had gained distinction in the famous battles of Morat and
Grandson, and he himself had made the campaigns of Italy from 1512 to
1515. _Wildermuth_ signifies _wild courage_, a name very appropriate to
the intrepid warrior. Although advanced in years,[625] he had all the
fire of youth and could support great fatigue. About the end of 1529,
when Farel went to Neuchâtel, Wildermuth had welcomed him; and when the
magistrates forbade the reformer to preach in the churches: 'Stay,' said
the soldier to him, 'I will make you preach in the houses.' He was
immediately assailed with threats: 'I can easily brave them,' he said,
'for I know that God is stronger than man or devil.'[626]

Such was the man to whom Claude Savoye made known the danger of Geneva.
He conceived at once the design of delivering that city. Wildermuth was
not only full of faith in the Gospel, and of aversion to ultramontane
superstitions, but he was intelligent, skilful, and courageous; and
having already made the campaigns of Italy, he knew better than others
how to organize and lead a body of volunteers. 'A burgess of Berne,'
said the Genevan to him, 'has given me six hundred crowns, wherewith to
raise a troop to fight against the duke and the pope.'—'Very good,' said
the Swiss warrior, 'I undertake, with the help of my strong-handed
cousin, Ehrard of Nidau,[627] to enrol some stout fellows, and lead them
secretly and promptly to Geneva.'

[Sidenote: THE HEROINE OF NIDAU.]

Half a league from Bienne, on the lake of that name, in the Seeland,
which forms part of the canton of Berne, stands the pretty little town
of Nidau. Ehrard Bourgeois was one of the citizens most devoted to the
Gospel and to liberty; and, more than that, he was one of those strong,
practical men, who know how to act upon others, and who, when they have
once embraced a cause, never give it up until it has triumphed. At once
he made the critical position of Geneva known in Nidau and its environs.
If he had a strong hand, he had a no less powerful voice; those who
loved the Gospel and hated despotism answered to his call. In a humble
dwelling of this neighborhood there lived a woman with her husband and
three sons, whose name has not been handed down to us. Filled with
ardent zeal for the Gospel, she determined to contribute to the
deliverance of her brethren of Geneva. A religious spirit has often
invested women with a strength that does not seem to belong to their
sex. The heroine of Nidau stood up: grasping a two-handed sword, and
addressing her husband and three sons, she inspired them all with
courage. She burnt with desire to march with her people to encounter
those soldiers of Savoy, who, urged on by the pope, were advancing
against Geneva. Their number and force did not stop her. 'Though I
should be alone,' she said to her husband and children, 'I would fight
with this sword against all yonder Savoyards.[628] The father and sons
were valiant warriors and fervent in the Gospel; and all five presented
themselves to Ehrard in order to march to the rescue of Geneva. It is a
great sign when women bestir themselves about the maintenance of rights,
and encourage their sons and their husbands, instead of dissuading them
from the battle: when this occurs, the enemy is already beaten. We have
seen it in antiquity, and in modern times. The fire which animated this
heroine spread all around her, and a goodly number of valiant fellows
hastened from the Seeland, Bienne, and the valleys of the Jura, to be
enrolled under the flag of Ehrard.

During this time Claude Savoye and Wildermuth were appealing to the men
of good-will at Neuchâtel and in its valleys. In every place Savoye
uttered his lament over the poor city of Geneva: 'Help us in God's
name,' he said. 'Give aid and succor to your Christian brethren, who
hold the same faith and obey the same law as you: and who, because they
have the Gospel preached, and defend their liberties and franchises, are
beleaguered by the enemies of the faith.' These words were not
ineffectual. Many generous minds threw far from them the selfish
thoughts that might have restrained them. 'Shall we not be moved with
pity towards our brethren in the Lord?' said the men of Neuchâtel to one
another. 'Shall not the charity we owe to our neighbor impel us?' One of
the most fervent was Jacques Baillod, called also the Banneret, whose
family, one of the oldest in the Val de Travers, filled the chief
offices of the state. He was, as it would appear, misshapen in body,
short,[629] and a little hunch-backed, not very unlike Æsop (said some);
but he was a skilful and valiant captain. Many men from the Val de
Travers and other places listened to his appeal. Even at Neuchâtel, an
ex-councillor was distinguished by his zeal; this was André, surnamed
Mazellier, or 'the butcher,'[630] one of those firm characters who, when
they have put their hands to the plow, never look back. 'In a short
time,' says a contemporary chronicler, 'a thousand picked men, fine
men-of-war, faithful and of stout heart—if there are any such in all
Switzerland—were assembled, and ready to march at once to the succor of
Geneva at their own expense.'[631] According to others, only eight or
nine hundred men took up arms.

[Sidenote: OPPOSITION OF DE PRANGINS.]

Meanwhile the rumor of these preparations reached the castle of
Neuchâtel. The Sire de Rive de Prangins, governor of the county for the
princess of Longueville, 'a papist and a Savoyard,' says the chronicler
Roset; 'a great enemy of the Word,' says Froment; had done all he could
to prevent the establishment of the Reformation in the county, and now
the Neuchâtelans wanted to go and support Geneva. Astonished at so much
audacity, he forbade those brave men to move under pain of his serious
indignation. Among those who had answered to the appeal of Savoye, there
were some who now hesitated. A certain number of these brave men had no
strong belief or strong will to maintain them. Full of respect for the
princess and her lieutenant, they bent easily beneath the authority
which presumed to constrain them. Their wives endeavored to revive their
zeal. In the eyes of the latter it was not an ordinary war; it was a
struggle for the Word of God. Being ardent evangelists, they had at
heart, as much as Farel, to uphold the faith, and combined with pure
doctrine that keen sensitiveness, that impulsiveness of the heart, which
are the portion of their sex. 'Go,' they said; 'if you do not go, we
will go ourselves.' Some, indeed, did go, like the heroine of Nidau.
Others, speaking in the name of religion, overawed their husbands and
decided them: 'We will not leave our Christian brethren of Geneva to
perish miserably,' said the Neuchâtelans to those who wished to detain
them; 'they are attacked for no other cause than to destroy the Gospel
and their liberties. _In such a quarrel we will all die._'

It was necessary to depart at once. The men who had risen in the towns,
the valleys, and the plain, to defend, without official character, a
city they had never seen, were not armed _cap-à-pied_ like the brilliant
knights of Savoy whom they were going to fight. Some had muskets, all
had swords, but they wore neither helmet nor cuirass. The justice of
their cause was to be their breast-plate. In the evening of the 7th
October the most distant corps—that from Bienne, the bishopric of Basle,
Nidau, and the Seeland—began their march. It is probable that they
crossed the lake of Neuchâtel to avoid the city. On arriving at the
entrance to the Val de Travers they halted, that being the place of
rendezvous. Those from Neuchâtel, Valangin, and other places soon
arrived, and all were now assembled in that picturesque country where
the Areuse rushes out of the valley. The intrepid Wildermuth took the
command.[632]

[Sidenote: STRUGGLE OF THE NEUCHATELANS.]

The little army was preparing to depart when it saw a cavalcade
approaching from the direction of Neuchâtel: they were officers of the
government sent to prevent any of Madame's subjects from marching to the
help of Geneva. Having reached the force, these delegates from the Sire
of Prangins approached the men under their jurisdiction, and ordered
them to return each one to his home. To go and fight against the duke of
Savoy was to put themselves in revolt against their sovereign, who would
treat them as rebels. 'They were forbidden, and in stronger terms than
before, and with fierce threats, so that many lost courage.' These
Neuchâtelans had not at first reflected that their government was
strongly opposed to the Reformation. Now their respect for the
established powers counterbalanced the sentiments which had induced them
to go to the help of the Gospel. They feared the unpleasant consequences
that their disobedience might entail upon themselves and their families.
They were agitated and divided. Wildermuth and other worthy persons
perceiving that some of them were giving way, were grieved at it; but
they did not want men whose hearts were weakened. It was right in their
eyes to protect the innocent against the wicked; but they would not
force their convictions on their brethren. Wildermuth called out:
'Comrades, if you have not the courage to die for Geneva, and kill as
many false priests as shall offer themselves, go about your business! It
is better for us to be few, but men of heart, as in the days of Gideon,
than to drag half-hearted ones after us.'

The struggle in these Neuchâtelans became more severe. Should they go
forward or should they return? Wildermuth had named Gideon: they
remembered how that Israelitish chief had consulted God to know if he
was to march against Midian. These honest people, who had taken up arms
in God's cause, believed in God and in His help. All, therefore, knelt
down on the spot in order to ask of their Sovereign Lord the road they
ought to take; and that troop, but lately so tumultuous, remained for
some minutes in deep silence. God himself was to choose whom He would
for the battle. When the prayer was ended, each man stood up, and the
energetic captain exclaimed aloud and with great earnestness: 'Now, let
those return home whom threats alarm; but you, to whom God has given
hearts to fight for your brethren, without fear for your lives—forward!'
Three or four hundred returned home.[633] It is not doubtful that they
acted thus from a spirit of obedience to the superior authority.

The others, who belonged particularly to the canton of Berne and to the
Jura, had not received a similar prohibition, and although diminished in
number, they did not hesitate. The little force was reduced by one half,
and consisted of four hundred and fifteen men; but those who remained
were filled with faith and courage. They departed calling upon the name
of God, and praying Him to be their helper.

[613] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p, 169.

[614] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 169.

[615] Chron. MSC. de Roset, liv. iii. ch. xxxvii.

[616] Stettler, _Chronik_, p. 68.—Ranke, _Deutsche Geschichte_, vol. iv.
p. 118.

[617] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, pp. 168, 169.

[618] Registres du Conseil du 26 Septembre 1535.—Stettler, _Chronik_,
p. 69.—Chron. MSC. de Roset.

[619] Registres du Conseil du 26 Septembre 1535.—Froment, _Gestes de
Genève_, p. 170.—Letters of Haller to Bullinger.

[620] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 171.

[621] This refers to the twelve cities destroyed by the Helvetians when
they departed for Gaul, about 58 B.C.

[622] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 172.

[623] Registres MSC. du Conseil du 3 Octobre.—Froment, _Gestes de
Genève_, pp. 168, 172, 184, 185, &c.

[624] Dictionnaire de Len.

[625] 'Den wohlbetagten Hauptman Jacob Wildermuth.'—Stettler, _Chronik_,
p. 70.

[626] Letter from Jacob Wildermuth to the Council of Berne, dated
Neuchâtel, December 3, 1529. Archives de Berne.—Herminjard,
_Correspondance des Réformateurs dans les pays de Langue française_,
ii. p. 212.

[627] 'Seines handvesten Vetters.'—Stettler, _Chronik_.

[628] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 195.

[629] _Abrégé chronologique de l'Histoire de Neuchâtel_, par un ancien
Justicier, p. 161.

[630] Annales de Boyne, liv. ii. p. 293.

[631] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 192.

[632] The documents in the French language, the _Gestes de Genève_ of
Froment, an official letter in the State Archives at Geneva
(_Portefeuille historique_, No. 1152) call the captain-in-chief _Jacob
Verrier_. The _Verriers_, or glass-makers, were generally rich and
influential men in the country. Wildermuth belonged to that class. _See_
Herminjard's _Correspondance des Réformateurs dans les pays de Langue
française_, ii. p. 211.

[633] Froment says about three hundred.—_Gestes de Genève_, p. 194. The
Bernese ambassadors say four hundred and fifty.—Registres du Conseil de
Genève _ad annum_.




 CHAPTER IX.
 WAR AND THE BATTLE OF GINGINS.
 (11TH AND 12TH OCTOBER 1535.)


[Sidenote: THE SECRET MARCH.]

What road should this little army take? There seemed to be no other than
that through the Pays de Vaud. But that country was occupied by the
captains of the duke of Savoy, who separated Wildermuth's band from
Geneva, and could easily oppose him with four or five thousand men.
Besides, if the Swiss auxiliaries followed that road, they would have to
pass near Yverdun and other strong towns capable of stopping them. 'I
undertake,' Wildermuth had said, 'to lead my companions secretly and
promptly to Geneva.' But how could he lead four to five hundred men
secretly? With that intent he had formed a bold strange plan, by means
of which he hoped to clear the distance between Neuchâtel and Geneva,
without its being known what he was doing, and would present himself to
the Genevese in distress, and to the Savoyards, their enemies, at a
moment when neither of them expected him. The old captain intended to
turn the Jura, and for that purpose to cross the Val de Travers, enter
Franche Comté, make for Sainte Claude, and thence, by the pass of the
Faucille, he would descend directly upon Geneva.

His troops began their march: they passed through Couvet, Môtiers, and
other villages in the valley; but they had hardly crossed the last
meadows, when they found the mountainous and steep roads, which
separated them from Les Verrières and Pontarlier, entirely closed by the
Savoyards.[634] Wildermuth, after taking counsel with the other chiefs,
resolved, instead of turning the Jura, to march by the upper valleys.
Some objected the season, the precipices, the absence of beaten roads;
but the leaders saw no other means of escaping the armed corps which
desired to stop them. The troop was so small that, if it fought two or
three battles before reaching Geneva, scarcely a handful of men would
enter the beleaguered city.

[Sidenote: LABORIOUS MARCH.]

Turning, therefore, to the left, in a southerly direction, and passing
the village of Butte, the volunteers painfully climbed the steep path
which, winding between Mont Chasseron and the Côte-aux-Fées, leads to
Sainte-Croix. They passed through this village, descended towards
Vallorbe, and then climbed again into the high valleys of Joux.

These heroic adventurers were two days (Friday and Saturday) on those
cold and desert heights. Everything was already covered with snow, which
was knee-deep, and forced them to clear the way with unheard-of labor.
We must not forget that there were women among them. It was the coldest
period of the year, says Froment, the winter being early and severe.
Thick flakes of snow fell and covered those brave men with a white
mantle, and obliged them to move slowly. But Wildermuth, notwithstanding
his age; Baillod, notwithstanding his small stature; and Savoye,
notwithstanding his fatigues, were fearless. One of them always marched
in front; and when they had to encounter difficult passages, they sprang
forward with fiery ardor upon those icy bulwarks, as if mounting to the
assault.

At that time there were only twenty families in the valley, and some
monks of the order of the Premonstrants, who had been settled in the
twelfth century at a place still called _the Abbey_. At the approach of
this unexpected body of 'men in white,' the inhabitants of the heights
fled in terror, with such valuables as they could carry; and those noble
champions of independence and the Gospel could find nowhere either men
or provisions, so that famine 'pressed them sorely.' They went into the
poor gardens, but could gather nothing to appease their hunger except 'a
few cabbage stalks and some turnips—and very little of these,' adds the
chronicler. However, they did not lose courage: they were going to help
Geneva, and every step carried them nearer. This idea stimulated them:
the drifted snows, which often blocked up the road, were crossed with
renewed courage.

On Saturday afternoon these warriors reached the wild lake of Les
Rousses, where they turned to the left, to make for the valley of the
Leman, marching slowly beneath long ranges of pine-trees. At length the
troop, overwhelmed with fatigue, arrived at Saint Cergues, on the
heights of the Jura overlooking Nyon, 2,800 feet above the lake. The
valiant men conducted by Wildermuth expected to find provisions in this
village; but there were no inhabitants, and no victuals. However, as
there were houses and beds too, the chiefs determined to pass the night
there, and posted sentinels all round.[635]

What were they to do next day? They might, indeed, continue their
painful road over the mountain as far as La Faucille, whence they could
descend by way of Gex to Geneva: this, as it appeared, was Claude
Savoye's first plan; but most of his comrades, pressed by hunger,
fatigued by the snow and the difficult roads of the Jura, proposed to
descend at once into the beautiful valley of the Leman. It was useless
to represent to them that they would infallibly fall in with the ducal
troops near Nyon; they answered that they had been two days without
eating; how could an army, weakened by starvation, deliver Geneva?
Nothing was decided, when the advanced sentinels brought in three young
men whom they had taken near the village. Wildermuth and the other
chiefs questioned them: they were the first human beings who had
approached them since they had plunged into the Jura. 'We have been sent
by the people of Geneva,' said one of the three, 'to serve you as
guides. The ducal troops are assembled not far from the mountain, to the
number of four to five thousand, horse and foot, and are preparing to
surround you, take you prisoners, and hang you.[636] Follow us, and we
will lead you to Geneva safe and sound.' Claude Savoye did not know
these men, which was not a good augury; but Wildermuth and his followers
had those upright hearts which do not easily suspect treachery in
others. Too happy to find guides, they resolved to follow the young men
next morning. It was night, and the troop prepared to take the necessary
repose.

There was, however, one man in that valiant band who was not to rest.
The _Genevan_, as he is generally called in this narrative, believing
that the destiny of his country was about to be decided, could not
sleep. Just at that moment a native of the district presented himself
mysteriously at the outposts and desired to see him. Savoye at once went
to speak with him. The messenger told him that he had come from the
Seigneur d'Allinges, one of the noblemen then collected round
Monseigneur de Lullin, governor of Vaud. D'Allinges had quitted the
castle of his family, situated on a steep hill near Thonon, whose
beautiful ruins are still the admiration of travellers, and had joined
the Savoyard gentlemen. Being a personal friend of Savoye's, he sent to
tell him that Louis de Diesbach and Rodolph Nägueli, the envoys of
Berne, had arrived at the castle of Coppet, in order to act as mediators
in the affair. This news troubled Savoye; did Bernese diplomacy wish to
neutralize his exertions? He might have waited until the morning, but
his character always carried him forward. He determined to depart alone,
and instantly. D'Allinges had sent him a paper signed with his own hand,
which was to serve as a safe-conduct. After conferring with Wildermuth,
Savoye quitted Saint Cergues at the moment when the others were about to
seek the repose of night. He descended the mountain hastily, though not
without difficulty; and, crossing rocks and penetrating thickets, he
reached the foot of the Jura at last. He found there a fine Spanish
courser, which D'Allinges had sent for him. Savoye sprang into the
saddle, and galloped off to Coppet.[637]

[Sidenote: SAVOYE GOES TO COPPET.]

On the other hand, the Swiss who had slept at Saint Cergues lost no
time. Stirring early on the Sunday morning, they departed under the
conduct of the three young guides. Geneva was in imminent danger; it was
necessary to hasten to its assistance. The band passed near the castle,
whence on a sudden a world sparkling with beauty opens before the eyes
of those who have been long shut up in the gorges of the Jura: the lake,
its rich valley peopled with smiling villages; the magnificent Alps, in
the bosom of which Mont Blanc uplifts his kingly head; Geneva, and the
towers of its antique cathedral. Delighted to perceive the city to whose
succor they were hastening, these generous men hailed it with joy. They
descended and marched to within a league of Nyon, at Gingins, whose
castle was then occupied by the Seigneur de Gingins, brother to the
vicar-general of Geneva. Wildermuth's followers, tired and hungry, hoped
(according to what their guides had said) to find there in abundance the
provisions of which they stood so much in need.

Behind a coppice between the village and the mountain was a ravine, worn
by the waters which descend from the hills during the heavy rains; it
would scarcely hold two persons abreast, a streamlet flowed along the
bottom, and thick underwood bordered it on both sides. The guides of
these valiant men said that they must be careful not to go near the
village, for fear the enemy should hear of their arrival, and desired
them to hide in the ravine and wait until their return. 'We will run to
Gingins,' they said, 'and bring you back refreshments; and then we will
all set out for Geneva.' 'Go,' said the troop; 'we will pay fairly for
all you can bring us.' The Swiss drew up noiselessly in the hollow way,
and their guides quitted them.

[Sidenote: BATTLE OF GINGINS.]

At Gingins there was a body of the enemy composed of Italians,
Savoyards, and gentlemen and men-at-arms of the bailiwicks of Nyon, La
Côte, Gex, La Sarraz, and other localities. The priests had preached a
crusade in those parishes.[638] They had done more: they had armed
themselves[639] and marched at the head of their villages, saying that
they would not lay down their arms until heresy was extirpated from the
valley of the Leman. They were all waiting for the Swiss, impatient to
fall upon that little band of four to five hundred ill-armed soldiers,
which they had seen descending the mountain. The duke of Savoy,
according to the official report, had on foot to stop them three to four
thousand men. Froment, who often exaggerates numbers, speaks of four to
five thousand, and reckons Spaniards among them. This force was divided
into corps, one of which was then at Gingins.

This first division, composed of fifteen hundred men, was commanded by
the Sieur de Lugrin, chief of the Gex contingent, and an Italian,
according to a chronicler. Devoted to the Romish Church and to his
master the duke, Lugrin detested Geneva and the Reform. Towards him the
three guides had made their way; and, being received into the castle,
they informed him of the results of the stratagem to which they had had
recourse, and told him that the Swiss were shut up in a narrow place,
where it would be impossible for them to move, and where it would be
easy to kill them all. Lugrin immediately marched out at the head of his
men, confident of crushing at the first blow these adventurers,
exhausted by hunger and fatigue, and of staining with heretics' blood
that deep mountain ravine.

The Swiss volunteers were waiting, without suspicion and in silence, for
the provisions that had been promised them. Presently they fancied they
heard a noise: Captain Erhard and one or two others raised their heads.
Great was their surprise when, instead of the three pretended friends
bringing them food, they saw a numerous and well-armed body of cavalry
and infantry advancing and preparing a very different sort of banquet
for them. Wildermuth without hesitation issued from the ravine; at the
same time the Sieur de Lugrin came forward, and the two chiefs, each
accompanied by an officer, met between the two forces. 'What is your
intention?' asked Lugrin.—'To go to Geneva,' answered Wildermuth.—'We
will not grant you the passage.'—'Very well; then we will take it.' At
this the officer who attended Lugrin dealt Wildermuth a blow with the
butt-end of his arquebuse and knocked him down. But the Neuchâtelan who
was with him struck the Savoyard back again and killed him.[640]
Wildermuth sprang up immediately, and ran eagerly towards his followers
to give them orders to charge.

The soldiers who composed the troop of the duke of Savoy were brave men,
burning with enthusiasm for the cause of Rome. They occupied a hill
situated between the ravine and the castle; they were set in motion,
and, on coming within gunshot, discharged their muskets; but as the
Swiss were still in the ravine, the bullets passed over their heads.
'Forward!' cried Wildermuth at this moment. In an instant his followers,
exasperated at being fooled and betrayed, issued from the hollow way,
rushed through the hedge, drew up boldly in presence of the enemy, and
fired a volley which brought several to the ground. Excited by rage and
hunger, the valiant Switzers did not give themselves time to reload
their arms, but rushed impetuously upon the Savoyards. They were like
bears or wolves whom hunger drives from the mountains, to seek food in
the plain. Those who had swords fought with them; those who had muskets
used them as clubs; it was a struggle man to man, and the conflict was
frightful. In the very middle of the fight was the heroine of Nidau,
with her husband and three sons, 'all fervent in the Gospel.' Wielding
her two-handed sword, she confronted the Savoyards. 'This family of five
persons,' says Froment, 'father, mother, and children, made a great
discomfiture of persons.' The husband was killed, the sons were wounded,
but the mother was unhurt, which was a wonderful thing to see, says the
chronicler, for nobody attacked the enemy with more intrepidity. Another
woman, according to Stettler, rivalled her in courage, and four
Savoyards had already bitten the dust when she fell, struck by a mortal
blow.[641]

[Sidenote: THE PRIESTS CUT DOWN.]

The men did not remain in the background. Fired with martial fury, they
drove their swords through their enemies' bodies, or brained them with
their arquebuses, or else, quickly reloading their guns, brought them
down from a distance.[642] Being skilful marksmen, they picked out their
victims; forty nobles, most of them Knights of the Spoon,[643] bit the
dust; and the priests paid a large tribute to death. The fanatical anger
of the clergy, who marched courageously to battle, was met by the
avenging anger of the Swiss, who were irritated at seeing men of peace
on the field of strife. Wildermuth had pointed out 'the false priests'
to his men. 'There they are now; we must sacrifice them as did Elijah of
old.' The curés, who had not expected such a resistance, found
themselves cut down by those terrible Helvetians, to whom two days of
suffering and the perfidy of their enemies gave a sort of transport. An
excited imagination could alone, perhaps, secure victory to the Swiss.
One of them in particular seemed like the angel of death. The
indignation he felt at seeing the servants of God wielding the sword,
carried him away, and twenty of them fell beneath his blows—a terrible
fulfilment of the words of Christ to Peter: _They that take the sword
shall perish with the sword_. A hundred of these ministers of peace,
turned ministers of war, remained dead or wounded on the field.[644] The
noise was frightful, and was heard a long way off. 'During the battle,'
says Froment, 'there was fierce lightning in the air and loud thunder.'
Was there a storm or are these words only figurative? Perhaps persons at
a distance took the flashes of the guns and the noise of the battle for
thunder and lightning.

[Sidenote: SONG OF THE BERNESE SOLDIER.]

The defeat seemed total and decided. Wildermuth and his followers
thought they would have nothing more to do than march into Geneva, when
an unexpected circumstance forced them to begin again. Another _corps
d'armée_ of Savoye, that which was nearest, summoned by the noise of the
battle, hurried forward to Lugrin's help. It was commanded (as it would
appear) by Michael Mangerot, baron of La Sarraz; he is indeed the only
chief of his party mentioned by some historians.[645] Mangerot, a
Frenchman by extraction and owner of the barony of La Sarraz, had been,
since the Sieur de Pontverre's death, the most formidable of the Knights
of the Spoon. Despite his efforts, none of his men could stand before
the ardor of the Swiss, and intrepidity triumphed over numbers. Those
'tall foreigners,'[646] as the German chronicler styles the Savoyards,
were alarmed and discouraged; they threw away their arms, turned their
backs, and shamefully took to flight,[647] leaving the field of battle
covered with firelocks, breastplates, lances, dead horses and men, among
whom (says the catholic Pierre-Fleur) were many _goodly personages_. The
loss of the Savoyards has been variously estimated from five hundred to
two thousand. In the first rank of the victims of the fight the Swiss
recognized their perfidious guides. The latter had lost only seven men
and one woman. The hill on which these terrible blows were dealt is
still called, in memory of this battle, the _Molard_ or the _mound of
the dead_. The valiant band of the Jura, at the sight of the victims of
the day, halted on the terrible battle-field, and piously bending their
knees amid the scattered arms and blood-stained corpses of their
enemies, returned thanks to God for the great and unexpected victory He
had granted them. The feelings which animated them have been expressed
by a Swiss poet of the time in a _Song of the Bernese Soldier after the
Battle of Gingins_, of which we give a few verses:

  Rejoice, O Berne, rejoice![648]
    Right joyful shouldst thou be,
  For when our grief was sorest
    God sent us victory.

  By all the world we're hated,
    Because the glory due
  We render to His name alone.
    *      *       *       *

  Hail to the Bear, the brave old Bear,[649]
    Who, to uphold our right,
  Has armed his sons, and covered them
    With his broad shield in the fight.

  With haste they marched to succor
    Geneva, round whose wall
  Raved fiercely the mass-worshippers,
    All eager for its fall.

  But hunger did not stop them,
    Nor mountains bar their way,
  Nor the sight of the sudden foemen
    Could strike them with dismay.

  One man to seven we stood,
    With weapons rude and few;
  But 'God will be our spear,' we said,
    Sprang through the hedge, and undismayed
  On their steel-clad ranks we flew.

  Yes! the Lord was on our side that day,
    In our hearts we felt His might,
  And Belial's dainty champions
    Were scattered in the fight.

  See how the bear-cubs taught them
    To tread a merry dance!
  And the priests, how well we shrived them
    With the pricking of a lance!

  Ours is the victory! Forward then!
    For aid Geneva calls,
  Haste to the help of those whose shame
  Is to love God's Word and Christ's dear name—
    Haste! yonder are her walls!

Meanwhile the report of the battle had spread through the whole
district; all the neighboring villages were in commotion; couriers,
dispatched by Lugrin, hastily ordered up the various corps, stationed at
intervals, to the support of their unhappy commander. These troops
hurried forward at the top of their speed. When the Swiss had finished
their thanksgiving, they looked before them and perceived that the
hostile chiefs were busied in filled up their thinned ranks, and that
fresh bands were joining the Savoyard army. The Sire de Lugrin and the
Baron of La Sarraz at the head of these fresh troops, supported by the
old ones, were about to attack the terrible battalion, posted on the
Molard. The Savoyards were much superior in number, and their leaders
were determined to do everything to recover their honor and crush
liberty in Geneva. The Swiss did not hesitate; they moved forward and
descended the hill to scatter their enemies once more. The struggle was
about to be renewed. Could these famished and exhausted men sustain the
shock of soldiers burning with desire to avenge the deaths of their
comrades?

That was the question: a few hours would probably answer it; but an
unexpected circumstance occurred to give a new turn to affairs.

[634] 'Die Strasse von ihren Feinden der Savoyern verhaget
war.'—Stettler, _Chronik_, p. 70.

[635] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 194.—Stettler, _Chronik_, p. 70.

[636] 'Zu ümgeben, fahen under hencken.'—Stettler, _Chronik_,
p. 70.—MSC. de Roset, liv. iii. ch. 41.

[637] 'Den Berg herab, willens mit den Bernern zu conferiren.'—Stettler,
_Chronik_, p. 71.

[638] Stettler, _Chronik_, p. 70.

[639] 'Mit guten Brægedinen angethan.'—_Ibid._ p. 71.

[640] Berne MS. ascribed to Bonivard.

[641] It would appear from the chroniclers, that these are two distinct
cases. Froment (_Gestes de Genève_, p. 195) says positively that the
woman of whom he speaks _n'eut pas de dommage_; Stettler (_Chronik_,
p. 71) says, on the contrary, of her whom he mentions, that she had _vor
ihrem Tod vier Mann erlegt_. Could one or other of these writers be
mistaken?

[642] 'Stachen, schlossen, und schlugen se männlich.'—Stettler,
_Chronik_, p. 71.

[643] _Supra_, Vol. II. p. 377.

[644] 'Bei hundert priestlichen Personen . . . auf den Platz
gelassen.'—Stettler, _Chronik_, p. 71.

[645] Verdeil, _Histoire du Canton de Vaud_.

[646] Grands Welches.

[647] 'Den Rucken kehrten,' &c.—Stettler, _Chronik_, p. 71.

[648] 'O Bern! du magst wohl frölich seyn!' etc. Recueil de Werner
Sterner. This song is probably by the famous contemporary poet Manuel.

[649] The Bear, i.e. Berne, which has a bear on its shield.




 CHAPTER X.
 DIPLOMACY, OR THE CASTLE OF COPPET.
 (OCTOBER 12TH 1535.)


[Sidenote: DIPLOMACY AND WAR.]

Diplomacy and war are the two means employed to decide international
differences. It is customary to speak disparagingly of both, and not
without cause. All who care for their fellow-men and desire the material
and moral prosperity of nations, look upon war as a crime against
humanity; and yet a people, invaded by an unjust and ambitious
conqueror, who desires to despoil them of their independence and
nationality, have as much right to defend themselves as the man attacked
on the highway by a robber bent on depriving him of his purse or his
life.

Diplomacy has its faults, like war. Its object being to conciliate
jarring interests, it falls easily into narrow and selfish views, while
it should possess that broad wisdom which reconciles differences with
impartiality. Fully acknowledging the tact with which in ordinary times
it adheres to the path it ought to follow, we think that it gets
confused and goes astray in periods of transition, when society is
passing from one phase to another. Seamen on a distant voyage have
observed that in certain latitudes and on certain days the
compass-needle is so agitated that the steersman cannot make use of it
to direct his course: it turns, perhaps, to the right when it should
point to the left. This is just the case with diplomacy in those great
epochs, when, as in the sixteenth century, society is turning on its
hinges and entering into a new sphere. In such a case diplomacy acts
first in a direction contrary to the impulses which prepare the future:
it devotes all its care to maintain what has been, while the normal
character of the new epoch is precisely that what has been must give
place to what is to be. Governments, naturally enough, always begin by
opposing the new developments of social, political, and religious life.
This is just what the powerful aristocracy of Berne did at first with
regard to Geneva: we have seen it once and we shall see it again. But if
there is a bad diplomacy, there is also a good one. Would it be out of
place to remark here, that if the château of Coppet, where some of the
facts of our history occurred, was in 1535 the seat of bad policy, it
became afterwards the centre of a liberal statesmanship?[650]

The Council of Berne had kept themselves carefully informed of the
proceedings of Claude Savoye. They had learnt that about four hundred
and fifty men, 'among whom were several of My Lords' subjects,' were
crossing the Jura to succor Geneva, 'not without danger, because of the
smallness of their number.' The Council knew that these men would have
to fight the nobles and other people of the country, brought together
from every quarter in the villages and on the roads, to the number of
more than three or four thousand. The Bernese magistrates wished,
besides, to avoid war. They had, therefore, deputed Louis of Diesbach
and Rodolph Nägueli to the Pays de Vaud, with instructions to order the
volunteers to return home. The two Bernese ambassadors had made their
way to the castle of Coppet, situated between Geneva and Gingins.[651]

There was just then a great crowd in that feudal residence, which has
since been replaced by a modern château. That place, which was one day
to be the asylum of letters and of liberty, was now, by a singular
contrast, the head-quarters of a rude and ignorant gentry, who desired
at any price to maintain feudalism, and destroy in Geneva light,
independence, and faith. Monseigneur de Lullin, governor of the Pays de
Vaud in behalf of the duke, had taken up his abode there with his
officers and several gentlemen of the district.

[Sidenote: CONFERENCE AT COPPET.]

On Saturday, 29th October, the day when Wildermuth and his band reached
the village of Saint Cergues, the ambassadors from Berne had arrived at
the castle of Coppet, with the intention of coming to some understanding
with the governor of Vaud on the means of preventing the battle that was
imminent. Here they learnt that it was nearer than they had imagined,
and that the Swiss were expected on the following morning. The Savoyard
and Bernese chiefs immediately entered into a conference on these
serious matters, and they were still in discussion when Claude Savoye,
who had only two or three leagues to pass over, arrived on his panting
courser. The daring Genevan was fully conscious that it was
very imprudent to show himself in the castle occupied by the
commander-in-chief of the enemies of Geneva; but it mattered not to him;
he wanted to obtain from Diesbach, at any risk, a promise that he would
not stop the troops that Claude was bringing to the help of his
fellow-citizens.

The Sire de Lullin, being informed of his arrival, was surprised and
exasperated: there was a stormy scene in the conference, and that clever
but hasty and passionate administrator ordered the heretical and
rebellious Genevan to be seized. The latter, escorted by armed men, soon
appeared before him in the principal hall of the castle. To the
Savoyards about the governor, a huguenot of Geneva was a kind of monster
which aroused alike their curiosity and horror. Savoye, finding himself
in the lion's jaws, presented the paper that D'Allinges had sent him.
This put a climax to the governor's passion. 'By what right,' he asked
that chief, 'do you give a safe-conduct?'[652] Lullin, imagining that
the noble Savoyard might be a traitor in correspondence with the enemies
of his highness, ordered both the bearer and the giver of the passport
to be locked up. The ambassadors of Berne did not think it their duty to
offer any opposition: the main thing for them was to obtain a promise
from the governor to do all in his power to hinder the arrival of the
Swiss band. They therefore asked him to set out with them the next
morning (Sunday, October 10th) at daybreak, to climb the mountain on
whose top they hoped still to find Wildermuth and his followers, and to
make them return.[653] De Lullin would not consent to this proposition.
He wished to suffer the little Swiss force to descend into the plain,
not doubting that the soldiers under his orders would crush them to
pieces. An opportunity offered of giving a sound lesson to those
adventurers who dared measure themselves against the duke of Savoy: not
one of those rash men should return home. But the Bernese were still
more decided than the Savoyard governor, and after many efforts
succeeded in bringing him round to their views. 'We came to the
conclusion, after much trouble,' they said in their report, 'to go and
meet them and make them retire in confidence to their own country, at
the expense of My Lord of Savoy.'[654]

[Sidenote: SIRE DE LULLIN'S SCHEMES.]

Very different thoughts occupied the dwellers in the castle during the
night which followed these deliberations. While the Bernese were
reflecting on the means of preventing a battle, the governor examined
his plans: he had three to four thousand soldiers, fresh, vigorous, and
ready for the combat, while the Swiss were only four or five hundred
tired and starving men. Not to take advantage of such an opportunity of
punishing those 'heretics and mischief-makers,' appeared to him a
serious fault. Without breaking his promise, it was possible (if he
procrastinated) that the Swiss would have time to come down from the
mountains and be cut to pieces by the Savoyards. On Sunday morning
Diesbach and Nägueli were stirring at daybreak, but Lullin made them
wait a long time for him. When he appeared, the Bernese told him they
were ready to start, according to their agreement. 'Excuse me,
gentlemen,' said the governor, 'I must hear mass first: we catholics
never begin a journey without it.'[655] The mass was very tedious; at
length the Bernese, seeing the governor return, thought their long trial
was ended; but Lullin, convinced as ever that by giving time to his
troops they would destroy Wildermuth's band, said to them: 'Gentlemen,
they are about to serve up a collation: it is impossible to start
without breakfasting.'[656] The collation had to be waited for: Lullin
and his officers talked much and with extreme amiability. 'Really, the
governor and his gentlemen are keeping us a little too long this
morning,' said the ambassadors,[657] who were quite wearied with these
delays. At length they sat down to table, and would no doubt have sat
there long, but that suddenly a noise like discharges of musketry was
heard. The Bernese ambassadors sprang to their feet. There was no more
room for doubt: the battle had begun, and it was perhaps too late to
fulfil their commission. They determined, notwithstanding, to ride to
the field of battle. The Savoyard governor, thinking that, in
consequence of all his delays, his men-at-arms would have had time to
cut the Swiss to pieces, raised no more difficulties. They went down
into the courtyard of the castle, where for several hours thirty horses
had been stamping impatiently, and a great number of officers, guards,
and servants had been gossiping. 'Bring me the Genevan's fine Spanish
horse,' said the governor, 'and give him a donkey.'[658] They brought
Savoye's noble courser to the Sire de Lullin. 'Give me also his
arquebuse,' added the sharp-witted Savoyard, 'for I am sure it is a good
one.' The troop fell in: the thirty horsemen and the governor's guards
surrounded the Sire de Lullin, his officers, the Bernese, and poor
Savoye mounted on his humble quadruped. They could not go very fast in
consideration of the heretical donkey, which Lullin would not leave
behind. Claude did not allow himself to be vexed by the ridicule with
which the governor tried to cover him, and sooner than stay at Coppet he
preferred they should laugh at him and treat him as a common prisoner.

Meanwhile, the governor and his escort kept advancing, looking before
them and trying if they could not discover the Swiss. Suddenly, at a
short distance from Gingins, the strangest and most unexpected sight met
their eyes. Soldiers were flying in every direction—along the highway,
through the lanes, across the fields: everywhere terror, confusion, and
all the marks of a signal defeat. The governor looked attentively: it
was useless trying to deceive himself, the runaways were his own
soldiers. He had expected to see the hostile band destroyed, and he
found those who were to accomplish his designs fleeing in confusion.
Incensed by such cowardice, he approached some of the fugitives and
cried out: 'What are you doing, you poltroons? Stop! why are you running
away? Are you not ten times as numerous as the heretics? Turn back and
help me to hang them!'[659] But the Savoyards, smitten with a panic
terror, passed near him almost without seeing him. It was impossible to
check their flight.

[Sidenote: THE BERNESE AMBASSADORS.]

What was to be done at such a strange conjuncture? There was but one
course to be taken. The governor had flattered himself with the hope of
seeing the Swiss crushed or of crushing them himself, and he had found
them victorious. Instead of having recourse to the sword, he must make
up his mind to an humble prayer. It appears that neither Lullin nor
Diesbach had any hope of seeing a third attack succeed. The Bernese
ambassadors, commissioned by their Council to act as mediators, must
therefore advance and stop the terrible band. De Lullin gave them some
of his horsemen as an escort, and they galloped off. At one time they
were stopped by bands of fugitives, at another they fell into the midst
of the Savoyard cavalry marching forward to rejoin their colors: at last
they arrived on the field of battle. It was the moment when the Swiss,
having gained two victories and returned thanks to God, had perceived
that fresh troops were approaching, and were preparing to renew the
combat for a third time.[660] But at the sight of the lords of Berne
they halted. This important circumstance was about to give a new and
unexpected turn to events.

During this time what was the Genevan doing on his donkey? The
chroniclers do not tell us: he disappeared, he vanished. We may
conjecture that, seeing Lullin occupied in rallying his troops, still
hoping that another battle would be fought, and comprehending the
necessity of informing the Councils of what was going on, he took
advantage of the general confusion to make for Geneva, to call his
fellow-citizens to take part in this heroic affair, and unite with the
Swiss. However that may be, the news of the battle of Gingins was
brought to Geneva by Savoye, or some other person, on the 11th of
October, the day after the fight, and the whole city was in commotion. A
deadly combat (they said) has taken place between our liberators and our
oppressors. Four hundred Savoyards were left on the field, but the
Swiss, surrounded by numerous troops, are shut up near Nyon, and in
great danger of being cut to pieces!

[Sidenote: GENEVA IN ARMS.]

Then arose a cry in the free city! They knew the number of the
Savoyards, and even exaggerated them; but the Swiss must be saved at any
cost. Besides, there could be no doubt that if that little band was
destroyed, Lugrin, Mangerot, and the other chiefs would turn against
Geneva. The Genevese did not hesitate: they had already fought many a
battle, and were ready to fight others. The strong man is he who
struggles continuously. The swimmer who ceases to make head against the
current is swept away by the stream and disappears. The people whose
liberty or faith is threatened, must, like the strong man, struggle
until the last, for fear the rushing waters should overwhelm him. This
was the example long given by the small city of Geneva: for ages she had
been struggling for her independence; for ages to come she struggled for
her faith.

Baudichon de la Maisonneuve, the captain-general, summoned all the
citizens to arms. There was no difficulty in collecting them. They
talked in Geneva of the unheard-of difficulties which the Swiss had had
to overcome in traversing the Jura. Such sufferings, toils, diligence,
and love (said the people); such signal services; the great dangers to
which those brave men have been exposed on our account—shall we repay
them only with ingratitude?[661] The Genevans resolved to deliver the
Swiss or to die with them. In an instant they were under arms; 'about
two thousand men,' says Froment, placed themselves, fully equipped,
under the orders of Baudichon de la Maisonneuve; other documents speak
of five hundred only—a number which seems nearer the truth. Froment,
probably, counted all who took up arms: the oldest, who remained in the
city to defend it, as well as the youngest, who left it to march to the
aid of Wildermuth's band. Eight pieces of artillery were taken out of
the arsenal,[662] and the army having been divided into three corps
under separate captains, Baudichon de la Maisonneuve took the
command-in-chief.[663]

They departed. The soldiers of Geneva advanced enthusiastically towards
the Pays de Vaud, and hastened their steps for fear they should arrive
too late. At the sight of Baudichon's little army the scattered
Savoyards, whom fear had brought as far as Versoix and the neighborhood
of Coppet, and who were still trembling at the thought of yesterday's
combat, imagined that everything was lost. 'We are all going to be
killed,' they said, 'and the country conquered.' Some fled in different
directions across the fields; others, fearing there would be no time to
run, hid themselves in the _courtels_ or inclosed gardens in the
vicinity of Coppet; while others more frightened still, wishing to put
the lake between them and their enemies, jumped into some boats moored
to the bank, and for want of oars employed their halberds, and thus,
rowing with all their might, reached the shore of Savoy. The Genevans,
without stopping to pursue the fugitives, arrived to within a short
distance of Coppet. 'If once we are united with the Swiss, which can be
easily done,' they said, 'our country is saved.'[664]

On Sunday evening and Monday morning diplomacy had done its work. The
envoys of Berne, arriving on the field of battle at the moment when the
Swiss were going for a third time to rush upon the Savoyard army, had
stationed themselves in front of that band of heroes, and, faithful to
the diplomatic spirit which at that time prevailed in the councils of
the powerful republic, had said: 'Halt! On behalf of our superiors we
command you to retire. The Savoyards are many, and quite prepared to
receive you warmly.' The lords of Berne were accustomed to command, and
their dependents to obey: they hoped, therefore, to gain the men of
Seeland. Further, Louis of Diesbach, who had distinguished himself in
the Italian wars, and had been governor of Neuchâtel after the Swiss had
carried off its prince, Louis of Orleans, fancied himself on that
account sure of persuading those Neuchâtelers who had remained faithful
to the enterprise. Calling them aside, he endeavored to show them, as
well as the Bernese, 'that it would be better for them to retire with a
good victory than to run into greater danger.'—'Every effort was made by
soft words to induce the valiant champions to return,' says Froment.

Diplomacy was less sure than it appeared to be of the defeat which, as
it pretended, awaited the companions of Wildermuth. If alone they had
won two victories, what would they not do with the help of the men of
Geneva? The Savoyards were placed between two fires, and it appeared to
many that they were all going to be taken and their country
conquered.[665] The followers of La Maisonneuve, combining with those of
Wildermuth, would expel the Savoyards from the country and unite it
either to Geneva or to Switzerland. On the other hand, the diplomatists
said to the Swiss, that another attack would expose them to the risk of
a defeat as signal as their triumph had been; that the battles which
such brave men had fought would not be useless; and that the Bernese,
intrusted with the task of mediation, would obtain from Savoy a good
peace in favor of Geneva. 'See, you have been two or three days without
eating,' added Diesbach; 'two battles have exhausted your strength. Make
your way to the village of Founex, above Coppet; abundant supplies are
waiting for you, and there you shall receive our last directions.' Thus
spoke the lords of Berne.

[Sidenote: THE SWISS MARCH TO FOUNEX.]

But the intrepid men of the Seeland and Neuchâtel contingent were
'greatly angered;' they asked whether they should let themselves be
seduced by 'soft words' or 'foolish fears;' they laughed at the attempt
to frighten them with the Savoyards, who were (they said) so scared that
they did not know what they were about! But the ambassadors did not
cease their exertions, and already the Swiss were hesitating. A number
of the Bernese did not wish to put themselves in opposition to the
government of their canton; and the Neuchâtelers thought that as it was
the lords of Berne who had supported Neuchâtel in the work of Reform,
they would not be likely to abandon Geneva. The greater number,
exhausted and worn out by two days' journeying in the snow and one day
of hard fighting, and having had no other food than a few turnips, were
of opinion, that as they were weakened by hunger, and the food was
offered them at Founex which had not been given them at Gingins, it was
quite natural to go there. Besides, that was not relinquishing their
design. Was not Founex on the road to Geneva? The ambassadors became
more urgent, and at last all marched off, leaving, not without regret,
the glorious field of battle. 'And so they came to Founex, where they
were supplied with meat and drink,' say the registers of Geneva.[666]

The Bernese lords saw them march off, and when the last had passed them,
they breathed freely, turned their bridles, and with their escort took
the road to Coppet, much pleased at having succeeded so well. But they
were not yet at the end of their troubles. They had hardly proceeded
half way when they were exposed to a new danger. A Savoyard squadron,
about sixty strong, was approaching: on coming within a short distance
of the Bernese, the horsemen set spurs to their horses and dashed upon
the ambassadors and their escort, shouting out, 'Slay, slay!' One of
them, placing his musket on Diesbach's breast, was preparing to kill
him.[667] In the midst of the alarm that had seized them, the Bernese
diplomatists began to understand that it is not wise to choose one's
friends badly. However, Diesbach escaped with a fright, one of his
escort having turned the musket aside. The explanations of the
ambassadors did not satisfy the Savoyards, who were a reinforcement of
cavalry on their way to Gingins, to help their countrymen to take
satisfaction for the defeat which their friends had suffered. They were
furious, and swore they would avenge their comrades murdered in two
affairs by the Bernese. Convinced that these patricians of Berne were in
a plot with the victors, they made them prisoners, ordered them to get
off their horses, and forcing them to march on foot between them, as if
they were robbers, intended to put them in prison at Nyon. At last,
however, after fresh parleying, those rude horsemen found out that they
were taking away the governor's friends, and, intimidated by the
knowledge, they hastened to release the envoys, who remounted their
horses and rode off to Coppet. It was late when they arrived at the
castle, where serious matters awaited them.[668]

[Sidenote: DIPLOMATIC TRICKERY.]

The next morning, Monday, 11th of October, the governor, the two Bernese
deputies, and several gentlemen, having met at breakfast, were
discussing what was to be done, 'as they sat eating, drinking, and
banqueting,' when an officer entered and informed them that a Genevese
army, commanded by De la Maisonneuve, was approaching the castle. The
whole place was in confusion. The Savoyard army was so far off that the
Genevese might by a bold stroke seize the governor of Vaud, with his
officers and gentlemen, and even the envoys of Berne, and carry them
away to Geneva. Such a blow would have been quite in harmony with
Baudichon's daring character; if he had been able to make the bishop
quit Geneva, he might easily (thought many) deliver his city from the
lords who were conspiring at Coppet. What could be done to stop him?
Those gentlemen invented 'an old trick of war,' says the chronicle,
according to which every man, not in a position to resist his
adversaries, makes a pretence of wishing for peace, either to gain time
or to draw his enemy into a snare. At any price the men of Geneva must
be induced to return. Diplomacy, therefore, recommenced its stratagems.
The governor of Vaud, although more determined than ever to destroy that
restless city, commissioned some of his gentlemen to go and inform the
Genevan commander that they were in conference, and that they were even
ready to sign the preliminaries of a peace advantageous to the city; but
that, in order to complete the negotiations, they wanted three deputies
from Geneva.

The gentlemen of Savoy, the bearers of this message, having arrived at
the Genevan outposts, and being conducted to De la Maisonneuve,
discharged their pacific mission. Opinions were divided. Some suspected
a trick, and contended that if the troops of Geneva and Neuchâtel could
meet, the independence of Geneva would be secured. They therefore did
all they could to oppose the conference; but others affirmed that they
could trust M. de Diesbach; and that the best course would be to send
three of their men, to ascertain the sincerity of these proposals of
peace and then return and make their report. 'Who will guarantee their
return?' cried those who feared the Savoyard governor. Upon this the
gentlemen of the Sire de Lullin pledged their 'faith and promise' that
no harm should befall the delegates. The worthy Genevans, being
unwilling to suspect perjury, gave way, and selected as their envoys
Jean d'Arlod, Thibaut Tocker, and Jean Lambert.

[Sidenote: GENEVAN ENVOYS IMPRISONED.]

When this deputation reached the castle, the Sire de Lullin and his
guests were again occupied in eating, drinking, and banqueting. This
intimacy of the lords of Berne with the enemies of Geneva displeased
d'Arlod and his colleagues; but all the same they resolved to discharge
their mission faithfully. They had not long to wait before they learnt
that the Savoyard chiefs had no idea of peace; and that they wanted to
crush that sect, rebellious to the laws of the Church,—that sect which
they had so long loaded with their contempt, which dismissed the
priests, declared its independence of the pope, made laws contrary to
those which for centuries had governed Christendom, and pretended to
treat with Rome as an equal. Those huguenots had deprived the saints of
the honors they had enjoyed, destroyed the images, abolished the mass,
and interdicted the sacred rites. What was then to be done, except to
treat their deputies as criminals? The Genevan plenipotentiaries asked
to see the preliminaries of the peace which it was desired to conclude
with them. The Sire de Lullin could not believe his ears, and, bursting
with anger, he flew into a passion at their audacity: 'What! rebels dare
ask to know the _preliminaries_!' He ordered them to be seized. It was
useless for the Genevans to appeal to the promise that had been given
them; Lullin would not hear a word, and, desiring war at any price, was
determined to trample under foot the inviolability with which the law of
nations invests internuncios. The three Genevans were 'tied and fastened
like robbers.'—'Take them to the castle of Chillon,' said Lullin, 'where
they will be able to talk with M. de Saint Victor (Bonivard), who has
already spent six years there for the business of Geneva.' The three
noble citizens were carried off and shut up in the fortress of Chillon.
It was the opinion then at Coppet, as it had been a century before at
Constance, 'that no one is bound to keep faith with heretics.'[669]

De la Maisonneuve and his officers waited impatiently for the return of
their delegates; the time slipped away, and they did not appear. The
fear of deplorable events began to disturb the least credulous minds.
'It is probable,' said some, 'that this is a _going_ which will have no
_returning_.'[670] The commander sent the trumpeter, Ami Voullier, to
inquire what was going on—a duty belonging in those days to his office.
Voullier, either because he inclined to the worse side, or was bribed by
the enemy, or suffered himself to be deceived by some crafty Savoyard,
returned and reported that the gentlemen at the castle were occupied in
drawing up the articles of peace; and that the place was not undefended,
for he had seen in the vineyards round about it more soldiers than
vinestocks. He added that, as peace was about to be concluded, the
presence of armed men who were not to fight was useless, and that the
best thing would be for every man to return home. The most pacific of
the Genevans, believing their delegates to be really occupied in drawing
up a real treaty, insisted upon returning to the city. An experienced
and clear-sighted commander, a man of superior mind, would not have been
satisfied with the trumpeter's report. He would not have left the
place without being put in direct communication with the three
plenipotentiaries. If he had discovered the governor's perfidy, he would
have been able, especially with the support of the Swiss, to surround
the castle, capture the governor and his suite, and the Bernese
themselves, and not release them until he had obtained the deliverance
of his envoys. Even if it were true that they were discussing a treaty
of peace, would it not have been of advantage for the forces of Geneva
to remain near Coppet to add strength to the representations of their
delegates? De la Maisonneuve was a good citizen, a good protestant, and
a soldier, but he was neither a great general nor a keen diplomatist.
Besides, a noble simplicity of heart does not suspect dissimulation.
Those proud huguenots, who erred sometimes through too much violence,
erred now through too much simplicity. It was decided that, as peace was
going to be signed, the Genevans should return home. The corps started
for Geneva. This error weighed heavily upon Baudichon de la Maisonneuve,
and troubled him all the rest of his life.

[Sidenote: THE SWISS VOLUNTEERS DUPED.]

The skilful diplomatists assembled at Coppet, having thus got rid of the
Genevese, undertook to rid themselves in a similar manner of the Swiss
cantoned at Founex. Some of them, going to Wildermuth's little army,
said: 'Peace is concluded. All soldiers must now return home. The city
of the huguenots will now be free. You have fairly acquired the right to
enjoy repose. Moreover, the governor of Vaud undertakes to pay the
expense of your journey.' The Swiss gave way like the Genevans. An
heroic victory was succeeded by a diplomatic defeat. If the honest have
their power, the cunning have theirs also. It is the fate of humble and
sincere individuals and nations to be sometimes mystified by the adroit
and powerful. As regards the Swiss, the last verse of the war-song of
Gingins shows that, if they turned their steps homewards, it was because
of their conviction that the deliverance of Geneva was secured.

'Finish the matter,' we said, 'in order that the city of Geneva may be
delivered—that is all we ask; that peace may be secured to her, so that
the Word of God may be preached within her walls in all liberty, that
the Lord's fold may be saved, and then we shall return joyful to our
homes.'[671]

But these strains were the illusions of honorable minds. If arms had
wrought the triumph of right and liberty at Gingins, policy had procured
the triumph of fraud and despotism at Coppet.

Still one question arises. Was the battle of Gingins useless? No, for it
saved Geneva. The bravery of the Swiss and their victory were deeply
imprinted in the minds of the population of Vaud. They talked of it in
villages and castles, and even in Savoy. Accordingly, some months later,
when an army sent by the Councils of Berne appeared in the country, no
one dared measure himself with it, the bravery of the Swiss still
freezing all hearts with terror.

Louis of Diesbach and his colleagues, who arrived at Geneva the day
after the treason of Coppet, proposed to the council a treaty with the
duke, stipulating, among other things, that the traitors of Peney should
be restored to their privileges. 'What!' said the premier Syndic, 'you
have sent back those who were coming to our help, and you claim to place
within our walls those who will never cease from making war on us!'[672]
De la Maisonneuve, discovering that the trumpeter had made a false
report, and that his troops, instead of returning to Geneva, ought to
have marched upon Coppet, could not contain his sorrow and rage. He
declared the man guilty of high-treason, and many persons joined with
him in demanding Ami Voullier's head. His life was, however, spared, but
he lost the esteem of his fellow-citizens.[673]

The indignation of the magistrates and of the chiefs of the soldiery was
trifling compared with the anger of the people. The thought that the
envoys had been shut up within the walls of Chillon made all their
hearts burn. 'Let us make reprisals,' said the relatives of the victims
to the syndics, 'and to make sure that they will restore us our
fellow-citizens, let us seize hostages who are as good as they.' Three
notable men, at that time within the reach of the Genevans—M. de Sales,
the Bastard of Wufflens, and M. de Montfort—were laid hold of.[674] The
last-named was a monk of the convent of St. Jean, situated on the
heights bathed by the blue waters of the Rhone, at the gates of Geneva,
although within the duke's territories. The people do not weigh the
claims of justice so calmly as wise men in council. The flames which
burnt in every heart broke out all of a sudden. There was shouting and
assembling. The popular waves rose higher from street to street, tossing
and foaming. 'Shall we leave at the very gates of the city,' was the
cry, 'a building whence the enemy can make his artillery bear upon us?'
The crowd rushed to St. Jean, scaled the walls, seized De Montfort,
climbed on the roof, broke, demolished, and threw down everything, and
did not stop until the convent was in ruins. The crime of Coppet
produced the execution at St. Jean. Popular indignation did not reflect
that in all states, and especially in republics, nothing should be done
except by the law.

[650] See the works of Madame de Staël, her family, the Duc de Broglie,
Comte Haussonville, and her friends.

[651] Report of the two Bernese envoys to the Council of Geneva.

[652] 'Von Lullin sagte Alinges hatte Gleit zu geben keine
Gewalt.'—Stettler, _Chronik_.

[653] 'Die Deutsche heim zu mahnen, und zu Ihnen den Berg hinauf zu
reiten.'—_Ibid._

[654] Report of the two Bernese envoys.—_Registres du Conseil de
Genève._

[655] 'Hielt die Berner betrüglich auf, bemeldeter von Lullin, und
sagte: Er wollte zum ersten Mess hören.'—Stettler, _Chronik_.

[656] 'Und eine Collation thun.'—_Ibid._

[657] Registres du Conseil de Genève du 12 Octobre 1535.

[658] 'Nahm er des Genfers starken hispanischen Hengst, setzt
denselbigen hingegen auf einen Esel.'—Stettler, _Chronik_, p. 71.

[659] 'Vermahnet sie ihren Feinden bey Hencken zügestehen.'—Stettler,
_Chronik_, p. 71.

[660] Stettler says that the Swiss had already started for Geneva when
the Bernese arrived; and Ruchat and others say the same. On reading the
manuscript registers of the Council of Geneva, it is seen that the
report of Messieurs de Berne states expressly the contrary; and Froment
corroborates this report, p. 196.

[661] These are the words spoken in the Council.—See the _Registres du
Conseil_ for the 11th October 1535.

[662] _Registres du Conseil_, _ad diem_.

[663] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 197.

[664] _Registres du Conseil_ du 11 Octobre 1535.—MSC. de Roset,
liv. iii. ch. 51.

[665] 'Gaigné.' Froment. _Gestes de Genève_, p. 197.

[666] Registres du Conseil de Genève du 12 Octobre 1535.—Froment,
_Gestes de Genève_, pp. 196-198.

[667] 'Die Schryen, Würgen, würgen! Setzten dem von Diesbach ein
Feuerbüchsen an die Brust.'—Stettler, _Chronik_, p. 71.

[668] Stettler, _Chronik_, p. 72.

[669] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 198.—Registres du Conseil du 11
Octobre 1535.—MSC. de Roset, liv. iii. ch. 41.

[670] 'Une _allée_ qui n'aura pas de _retour_.'

[671] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 199.—MSC. de Roset, liv. iii.
ch. 41.—_Schweizer Chronik in Liedern_, Berne, 1535.

[672] Registres du Conseil du 12 Octobre 1535.—MSC. de Roset, liv. iii.
ch. 42.

[673] Froment, Roset, &c.

[674] Chron. MSC. de Roset, liv. iii. ch. 51.




 CHAPTER XI.
 MOVEMENTS FOR THE ATTACK AND DEFENCE OF GENEVA—FAITH AND HEROISM.
 (FROM THE BEGINNING OF NOVEMBER 1535 TO THE END OF JANUARY 1536.)


[Sidenote: GENEVA BLOCKADED.]

A reverse is not always an evil; it may sometimes lead to a decisive
victory. There were few regular troops among those who had been beaten
at Gingins, which made the defeat a lesson by which the duke of Savoy
might profit. He resolved, in effect, to benefit by it, to bring up
veteran soldiers, to place a distinguished general at their head, and
thus to crush that rebellious city which presumed to set up a religion
unknown at Rome. But as these troops were not ready, Charles III.
ordered the chiefs of the great valley of the Leman to exact of their
vassals the military service which they owed. The nobles of that
district were persuaded that they would easily triumph over Geneva, if
the Swiss did not come to their help; and as that was not likely, the
hatred felt against the city, and the hope of enriching themselves with
its spoil, induced a great number of liegemen to rally round the banners
of their lords. About the end of October the Sire de Lullin took his
measures for blockading Geneva. Mangerot, baron of La Sarraz, a prompt,
violent, obstinate man, filled with contempt for the reformation of the
Church and the liberty of the citizens, was placed at the head of the
attack. On the 1st of November these armed bands occupied certain
villages and small towns which formed a kind of circle round the city,
and began to plunder, burn, and kill all who fell into their hands.
Famine and the cold, which was very severe that year, soon caused
distress in the city. The churches were filled with old men, women and
children, and even armed men. 'There is no resource and refuge left but
God alone,' said Farel from the pulpit, and voices were heard responding
to him from the midst of the congregation, 'In Him alone we place our
trust.' If a musket-shot was heard, or shouts, or the drum, the armed
men left immediately, but 'without noise or confusion; nobody else moved
from the sermon,' and the service was not interrupted. As the firing
grew hotter without, those who had remained in the temple cried to God
that 'not to man's arm did they look for deliverance, but to His great
faithfulness.' One night, the Genevans, startled out of their sleep and
rising hastily, found the city surrounded by fires kindled by the
men-at-arms of Savoy, with the intention of giving them light for the
assault, and heard the bells of the convents and chapels all round
ringing as loud as possible to increase their terror. The citizens
fought valiantly, and the enemy was once more repulsed.[675]

Yet the blockade was still maintained round the city, and no one could
tell whence succor would arrive. One day a messenger coming from France
succeeded in making his way through the troops which surrounded Geneva:
he was the bearer of a letter conceived in these terms:

'_You will certainly receive some mule loads of good and salable
merchandise, and they will be there one of these days._

 'PIERRE CROQUET.'[676]

The letter was handed to Maigrot the Magnificent. ''Tis good,' he said,
'salvation comes to us from France.'

[Sidenote: VOLUNTEERS FROM FRANCE.]

At that moment certain evolutions were taking place in the policy of the
great powers of Europe, which might favor the deliverance of Geneva. 'If
you desire Milan, take Turin,' said the crafty Clement VII. to the king
of France. As Sforza, the last duke of Milan, was dead, Francis I., in
order to follow up the pontiff's advice, had to seek some kind of
pretext for declaring war against his uncle, the duke of Savoy. There
was one which presented itself quite naturally. 'Charles IV. oppresses
Geneva,' said some. 'Let France oppose his laying hands on it, and war
will be certain.' Francis I., who was then at Lyons and negotiating with
Charles V., saw that he could not support Geneva openly; but permitted
the Sieur de Vérey, a French nobleman, to raise a troop of volunteers.
Men, charmed with the new liberties, flocked with enthusiasm to his
banners. Many printers in particular joined the band. The printers in
those times remarked that the Reformation produced not only authors who
wrote for the people, but a people who read their books with eagerness;
and accordingly they were ready to fight for it. Francis I. was not
content to look on, but gave Vérey the company of Jean Paoli, son of the
Sieur de Ceri, the old captain of the Roman bands, consisting of
'excellent cavalry and valiant personages.'[677]

Meanwhile the city was going to ruin: there was no money to pay the
soldiers. What was to be done? In many old houses Genevan coins were
found, bearing the sun as a symbol with this device—_Post tenebras spero
lucem_.[678] These pieces proved that the city of Geneva had once
possessed the right of coining money—a right of which the prince-bishops
had deprived her. Claude Savoye received instructions to issue a new
coinage, and was forthwith supplied with silver crosses, chalices,
patens, and other sacred utensils. The coins he struck bore on one side
the key and eagle (the arms of Geneva), with the legend, _Deus noster
pugnat pro nobis_, 1535, 'Our God fighteth for us;' and on the reverse,
_Geneva civitas_. The following year another coinage was issued which,
in addition to the ordinary device, _Post tenebras lucem_, bore these
words of Isaiah and St. Paul, _Mihi sese flectet omne genu_, 'Unto me
every knee shall bow,' the monogram of Jesus, I. H. S., being in the
centre. Geneva did not believe in its own victory only, but in the
victory of God, whose glory, hidden until then, would be magnified among
all nations.

[Sidenote: CONFERENCE AT AOSTA.]

While Francis I. was stealthily aiding Geneva, the powerful republic of
Berne was negotiating in its favor. Some of its statesmen crossed the
Saint-Bernard on their way to the town of Aosta, where the duke of Savoy
was to meet them. Berthold Haller, the reformer, and the other Bernese
pastors, had gone in a body to the council and conjured them to make an
appeal to the people for the deliverance of Geneva. 'They are ready,'
said the ministers, 'to sacrifice their goods and their lives to uphold
the Reformation in that city.' The lords of Berne, desirous of taking at
least one step, sent a deputation to the duke, and commissioned their
general, Francis Nägueli, who was at its head, to support the cause of
Geneva. Son of one of the most distinguished chiefs of the Swiss bands,
Francis had grown up in the camp, and like Wildermuth, had made his
first campaign in the wars of Italy in 1511. 'He was a man at twenty,'
people said. His features bronzed by a southern sun presented a mixture
of energy, acuteness, and antique grandeur, and the Christian piety by
which he was animated imparted to them a great charm.[679] P. d'Erlach,
Rodolph of Diesbach, and the chancellor P. Zyro accompanied him.
Crossing the mountains with difficulty—it was in the latter half of
November—and braving rain, cold, and snow,[680] the ambassadors arrived
at last at the city of Aosta. The duke was not there; they were invited
to push on to Turin, but the lords of Berne replied that they would wait
for the duke at the foot of the glaciers. The Bernese and their suite
took advantage of this delay to enter into conversation with the
inhabitants, and spoke to them fearlessly of Holy Scripture and the
usurpations of the Roman bishop.

At last Charles III. arrived and the conference was opened. 'First of
all,' said the Bernese, 'we require you to leave the citizens of Geneva
at liberty to obey the Word of God, as the supreme authority of faith.'
The duke, surrounded by the servants of Rome and urged particularly by
Gazzini, bishop of Aosta, declared that he could not concede their
demand without the consent of the emperor, the permission of the pope,
and the decision of a general council. 'I ask you once more,' said
Nägueli, 'to leave the Genevans free to profess their faith.' 'Their
faith,' ejaculated Charles, 'what is their faith?' 'There are Bibles
enough, I think, in Savoy,' answered Nägueli; 'read them, and you will
discover their faith.' The duke asked for a truce of five or six months
to come to an understanding on the matter with the emperor and the pope.
The ambassadors, recrossing the snows of those lofty mountains, returned
to Berne and made their report.[681]

During this time the Savoyard troops had drawn closer round Geneva, and
on the 7th of December had attacked the city. Rodolph Nägueli, the
general's brother, communicated to the council the offer made by
Charles III. of a five months' truce. But the Genevese replied: 'How can
the duke observe a truce of five months, when he cannot keep one of
twenty days? He makes the proposal in order to starve us out. We will
negotiate no more with him, except at the sword's point. All delays are
war to us. Give us your assistance, honored lords. We ask it not only in
the name of our alliances, but in the name of the love you owe to your
poor brethren in Christ. Do what you may, the hour is come, and our God
will fight for us.' The herald was sent through the city, ordering every
citizen to get his arms ready and to muster round their captains.[682]

[Sidenote: MAISONNEUVE'S EXERTIONS.]

At the same time Baudichon de la Maisonneuve, who was then in
Switzerland, employed all his energies to awaken the sympathy of the
people in favor of Geneva. At Berne, he sought support among the middle
classes, among those who loved the Gospel and liberty, feeling persuaded
that they would carry the magistrates with them. He was indefatigable
and pleaded the cause of his country in private houses, in society, and
in the council. He labored as if desirous of repairing the fault he had
committed in allowing himself to be outwitted at Coppet by the Savoyard
statesmen. The government of Lullin, being informed of the exertions of
the Genevese citizen, ordered him to be seized when he attempted to
cross the territory of Vaud on his return home. De la Maisonneuve was
filled with joy, for he was succeeding in his efforts; the good cause
was gradually gaining the upper hand in Berne; but one thing distressed
him: he received no news from Geneva, and could not go there to
communicate his great expectations to his fellow-countrymen. 'I have
received no news at all from you,' he wrote on the 9th of December to
the council, 'no more than if I were a Jew or a Saracen. If I could
pass, I would not remain here; but I am warned that I am watched on all
sides, as a mouse is watched by a cat. Know that those of Basle and
other cantons who belong to the Gospel are willing to employ all their
power to help us. In a short time you will see wonders and how God will
work.'[683]

Meanwhile the severity of the weather had become extreme; the nobles who
were blockading Geneva—the De Montforts, De Gingins, De Burchiez, and
others—determined to go into winter quarters with their men. The Sire
Mangerot de la Sarraz vainly conjured them to remain. 'We are compelled
to return,' they said. The Genevans began to breathe. Their enemies were
departing, and the refugee Maigrot kept telling them that friends from
France were about to 'arrive in numbers and full of courage.' The
citizens began thus to discern some gleams of light through the darkness
which surrounded them.

In effect the Sieur de Montbel de Vérey, with his seven hundred
foot-soldiers and four hundred horse, dispatched secretly by Francis I.,
with a personal object, to the support of Geneva, had arrived in the
valley of St Claude. This was in the middle of December. The intrepid
Mangerot, disgusted at the cowardice of his allies, had remained alone
at his post; and he had done so specially to oppose the French. Taking
four hundred men with him, he climbed the mountains, and found from ten
to twenty feet of snow in the upper valleys. De Vérey's Italian cavalry
could not advance and his foot-soldiers were almost frozen. All of a
sudden, at the turn of a road, a discharge of musketry spread terror and
disorder in that disorganized band. The intrepid De Vérey, accompanied
by seven horsemen, dashed through the enemy, and on the 14th of December
eight men, the only survivors of nearly twelve hundred, arrived at the
gates of Geneva.[684]

Nägueli, the Bernese deputy, fully comprehending the gravity of the
circumstances, departed the same day. They soon learnt with regret that
all the Sieur de Vérey's men-at-arms had either been cut to pieces or
dispersed in the snows and forests of the mountains; at the same time La
Sarraz, proud of his victory, once more beleaguered the city, and swore
that he would put an end to its independence and heresy. The fortunes of
Geneva were overcast, and some asked if this was how God saved those who
followed His Word. On the 17th of December, at the moment when the
frightful news arrived, William Farel went to the council and said:
'Most honored lords, the chief thing is that we should all be converted
to God, and that you should make arrangements that the people should
renounce sin and hear the Word of the Lord. It is because God knows that
it is of no use to entice by mildness those who sleep, that He now
strikes you with great blows of His hammer in order to arouse you.' That
holy exhortation made a deep impression on the council, and the same day
the officers of the state published throughout the city that 'all men
should go on the morrow and other days to the church of St. Pierre and
invoke the help of God.' The next morning, the Genevese, assembling
before the Most High, cried to Him by the voices of His servants.[685]

[Sidenote: CLAIMS OF FRANCIS I.]

A still greater danger threatened Geneva. The Frenchman, De Vérey,
although beaten, desired none the less to attain the end for which he
had been sent. He had very winning ways with the Genevese. 'The king of
France,' he said, 'takes your business to heart; he will send a stronger
force to save you, for he loves Geneva with a strong affection.[686]
Meantime, gentlemen, to give him occasion to expel your enemy, it would
be advisable that you should grant him some pre-eminence in your city.
The king asks for nothing but to be called the _Protector of your
liberties_. He desires to help you to become strong.'[687] The council
ruminated, discussed, and calculated all these matters well.[688] On the
one hand, they did not want the protection of France; on the other, they
felt the need of her support. They temporized. 'First expel our
enemies,' they said, 'and we will then see how to show our respect for
the king.' 'We had hoped to find you better disposed,' said De Vérey,
who was not satisfied with _respect_ for his master. 'Think upon it,
gentlemen, think upon it.' He went away very discontented. But the
citizens spoke out more frankly than the council. A despotic king, what
a protector for their liberty! A king who hangs and burns evangelical
Christians, what a protector for their faith! Bold tribunes, and
especially the brothers Bernard, stood forth, and demanded that if their
country must perish, it should perish free. Let us write to the king,
then said the council, that the Genevese offer him their humble
services, 'but _without any subjection_.' The little city, on the verge
of the abyss, rejected the hand of the powerful monarch which alone was
stretched out to save them. Six days later (December 23d) the duke of
Savoy ordered the commanders of his forces on this side of the mountains
'to do their duty.' It was resolved in Geneva that in case of assault
all the citizens, and even the old men, women, and children, should
repair to the walls.

[Sidenote: JESSE'S HEROIC DEFENCE.]

The year 1536 opened, and on the 3d of January the Savoyard garrisons of
Lancy, Confignon, Saconnex beyond the Arve, and Plan-les-Ouates, castles
situated between the Rhone and the Arve, as well as those of Gaillard
and Jussy, fortresses between the Arve and the lake, advanced
simultaneously against the city. At the head of the last troop was
Amblard de Gruyère, a fervent catholic and hot-headed feudalist, who
determined first to take possession of the church of our Lady of Grace
on the Arve, and thus acquire an important position a few minutes
distant from the city and the Savoyard territory. Pierre Jessé and three
other valiant huguenots had thrown themselves into the tower. Amblard
advanced, and standing at the foot of the wall, called to them:
'Surrender! on the honor of a gentleman your lives shall be spared.'
Jessé answered: 'I would sooner surrender to yon pig-drivers, for you
gentlemen have no honor.' Upon this Amblard de Gruyère opened a warm
fire upon his adversaries. The latter were not alarmed; they stood firm,
and believed, with Farel, that a man armed with divine strength is
equipped from head to foot. They threw down huge stones from the top of
the tower upon their assailants; they discharged their arquebuses and
killed several of the enemy. Amblard ordered an assault, broke down the
iron door which closed the staircase, and rushed up it, sword in hand;
but just as he reached the door which opened into the belfry, a ball
knocked him back upon the people behind him. Although reinforcements
came up one by one to the support of the assailants, the latter, seeing
their captain fall, 'had a great fright and fear.'[689] All night long
the four huguenots made fire-signals to their friends in the city, to
let them know that they would hold out until death. Meantime the
attacking party did not relax their hold. Climbing the narrow stairs,
they placed torches against the floor of the tower under the feet of the
four huguenots, and set the timbers on fire. The Savoyards, thinking
that the Genevans would be burnt to death, then retired, 'carrying off
the body of their captain and others who had fallen.' The undaunted
huguenots, already feeling the fire, rushed down the stairs through the
flames, and were saved, with nothing burnt but their beards.[690] Jessé
was afterwards made a member of the council.

Still, if one attack failed, it paved the way for others; and new troops
were moved up against the city. The council deliberated on the course to
be pursued, and two alternatives were proposed. Farel demanded, for the
preservation of the city, that the inhabitants should put their trust in
God, and that prayers should be offered from every heart for peace and
unity, not for Geneva only, but for all Christendom.[691] Balard
proposed another remedy: 'Let mass be publicly celebrated once more,' he
said; 'the mass is an expiation that will render God propitious to
us.'—'The mass is not worth a straw,' exclaimed a huguenot.—'If it is
so,' retorted a catholic, 'the death and passion of Jesus Christ are
good for nothing.' At these words the assembly became greatly excited.
'Blasphemy!' exclaimed some. 'Balard has spoken blasphemy! He is a
heretic. All who maintain the sacrifice of the host nullify the
sacrifice of Jesus Christ.' The council put an end to the discussion by
resolving 'that the priests should prove that the preachers spoke
falsely, or else that they should go to the sermons and convince
themselves that the ministers spoke the truth.'[692]

On the 12th of January the gates of the city were bricked up, the
openings in the walls were filled in, and the armed men held themselves
in readiness. The hostile force was advancing in three divisions—one
between the lake and the Arve, a second between the Arve and the Rhone,
and a third between the Rhone and the lake. About ten o'clock at night
cries of alarm were heard from the walls; the Savoyards were placing
their ladders on the southern side, while the Baron de la Sarraz and his
troop had already got into the fosse on the north-west side. The
Genevans hastened bravely to the defence, and threw down both ladders
and soldiers. The next day the agitated council ordered these words to
be entered in the minute-book of their meetings: '_They assaulted us
vigorously, but God, to whom belongs all the honor, repelled
them_.'[693] From that time the Savoyards, 'more inflamed than ever,
scarcely missed a night without making an attack.'[694] They desired to
do more.

On the 24th of January the garrisons of Jussy and Gaillard, amounting to
600 or 800 men, of whom 100 were horsemen, reinforced by a large number
of peasants, took up a position between Chene and Cologny, a little
above the ravine of Frontenex. A hundred footmen and forty horse made a
sortie from Geneva, and a great number of boys from fourteen to sixteen
years old accompanied them. This small body at once attacked the large
one, and in a short time the wide plain between Frontenex and Ambilly
was covered with fugitives and corpses. Not less than two hundred had
fallen. The victors returned in triumph from the _War of Cologny_,
through a crowd of citizens, who went out to meet them and welcome them
with shouts of joy.[695]

But if the weak people of Geneva repulsed little armies, how would they
resist when the grand army came?

[675] Registres du Conseil des 9 et 12 Novembre 1535.—Froment, _Gestes
de Genève_, pp. 179-184.

[676] 'Vos recevrez certainement charge de mullets, de bonne et mettable
marchandise, et seront là un de ces jours.'

[677] Registres du Conseil du 17 Décembre.—Chron. MSC. de Roset,
liv. iii. ch. 11.—Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, pp. 187-191.

[678] Taken from the Vulgate, Job xvii. 12.

[679] Dictionnaire de Len. Journal de Nägueli.—Vulliemin, _Continuation
de l'Histoire Suisse de Müller_.

[680] 'Bei Kalter Winterzeit, in Schnee und Regen.'—Stettler, _Chronik_,
p. 72.

[681] Stettler, _Chronik_, p. 73.—MSC. de Roset, liv. iii. ch. 46.

[682] Registres du Conseil des 8 et 10 Décembre.—Chron. MSC. de Roset,
liv. iii. ch. 49 to 51.—Collection Galiffe dans Roget, _Les Suisses et
la Genève_.—Stettler, _Chronik_, p. 73.

[683] 'Vous verrez merveilles en bref et comme Dieu besognera.'—
Collection Galiffe dans Roget, _Les Suisses et Genève_.

[684] Stettler, _Chronik_, p. 73.—Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p.
201.—Chron. MSC. de Roset, liv. iii. ch. 52.—Mémoires de Pierre-Fleur,
p. 118.

[685] Registres du Conseil du 17 Décembre 1535.—Chron. MSC. de Roset,
liv. iii. ch. 53.

[686] 'Fortiorem bendam . . . . Genevam ingenti amore prosequitur.'—
Registres du Conseil du 17 Décembre 1535.

[687] _Ibid._—Chron. MSC. de Roset, liv. iii. ch. 53.

[688] 'Omnibus bene ruminatis, discussis, et calculatis, fuit solutum
respondendi.'—Registres du Conseil, du 17 Décembre.

[689] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, pp. 184, 185.

[690] _Ibid._

[691] 'Farellus exhortavit eos de uniendo populum, et fidendo in Deum,'
etc.—Registres du Conseil du 10 Janvier 1536.

[692] Registres du Conseil du 10 Janvier 1536.

[693] 'Ils nous ont assaillis vigoureusement; mais Dieu, à qui en est
tout honneur, les a repoussés.'—Registres du Conseil du 13 Janvier
1536.—Chron. MSC. de Roset, liv. iii. ch. 56.

[694] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, pp. 186, 187.

[695] Registres da Conseil du 24 Janvier 1536.—Chron. MSC. de Roset,
liv. iii. ch. 58.—Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, pp. 204-206.




 CHAPTER XII.
 EXTREME PERIL.
 (JANUARY TO FEBRUARY 1536.)


[Sidenote: GENEVA IN PERIL.]

The duke of Savoy was preparing to aim more decisive blows at Geneva. He
desired to satisfy the ancient ambition of his house, and to crush a
city which believed itself called upon to divorce from Rome the
populations scattered around her. In this he was animated by his wife,
Beatrice, a Portuguese princess, who was inspired by that religious
fanaticism which generally distinguishes the women of the Iberian
peninsula. The cities of Asti, Ivrea, and Verceil had fallen into the
hands of the house of Savoy, and Geneva was to experience the same fate.
The moment seemed favorable. Charles V. was preparing to destroy
protestantism: lansquenets, recruited by the emperor's brother, were
arriving from Germany, and the army which Charles himself was bringing
back from Africa, was moving towards the Alps. Letters from Berne
announced that the emperor and the duke would begin by reducing Geneva,
reformed Switzerland would follow, and last of all Lutheran Germany.
Thus the subjection of the city of the huguenots formed part of a
general plan. That mighty monarch, upon whose dominions the sun never
set, had determined to abolish the Reformation, beginning with this
city.

[Sidenote: GIANGIACOMO DE MEDICI.]

Charles III. had learnt that what had paralyzed his former efforts was
the error he had committed by not sending disciplined troops against the
huguenot city. He therefore determined on this occasion to select none
but veteran soldiers and to place them under the orders of one of the
boldest captains of the age, whose march should be accompanied with
plunder and devastation. A person of low birth, who had settled at
Milan, had acquired a small fortune by his industry. This man,
Bernardino Medici (a name not to be confounded with that of the Medicis
of Florence) had two sons, Giovanni Angelo, who became Pope under the
name of Pius IV., and Giangiacomo, a rash, enterprising, treacherous,
and cruel young man, whose ambition was insatiable and whose trade was
war. Having been sent to the castle of Musso on the lake of Como, by the
duke of Milan, with a letter charging the governor to put the bearer to
death, the cunning Giangiacomo had opened the letter, got together a few
companions, seized the castle, and made a small principality of it,
which he had increased little by little, by furious inroads into the
surrounding districts—the Valteline, the Milanese, Venetia, and even the
Grisons. The Swiss, with Nägueli at their head, marched against the
robber chieftain and destroyed his lair. From that time the daring
freebooter had carried his impetuosity and devastations elsewhere.
Portions of French Switzerland, on the side of the Jura, had been
ravaged by him. It was this Attila on a small scale whom Charles III.
selected to put at the head of the new campaign against Geneva. It was
not a question of merely taking the city, but of putting it in such a
position that it could never lift its head again; in short, of
destroying it. Giangiacomo was just the man for the work. At a later
period Charles V., wishing to employ him against the German Reformation,
created him marquis of Marignano, and gave him the command of the
artillery in his campaign against the Lutherans. For the present,
however, it was not Wittemberg but Geneva that Medici was to lay
waste.[696]

The duke of Savoy placed his general at the head of an army composed of
four thousand Italians,[697] besides Savoyards and Spaniards, stout,
strong fellows, most of them old soldiers. A considerable number of
armed men were summoned from the valley of the Leman to join Medici, and
thus double or even triple his forces. The warlike brother of the future
Pope Pius IV., supported by great princes, by the duke of Savoy and the
emperor, had no doubt of victory. He began his march along the valley of
the Leman.

The peril was great, but was everything lost? Was there not a power in
Geneva which had not been found in Verceil or Asti? 'There seem to be no
means of escaping from the hands of our enemies,' said the pious
Genevans; 'but our hope is in God, who will not suffer His holy name to
be blasphemed by infidels.'[698]

Berne had long closed her ears to the cries of Geneva. Baudichon de la
Maisonneuve had gone thither to point out the extremity to which his
country was reduced. At the moment when the peril had become greatest,
the Bear awoke, and prepared to descend from his mountains. Political
motives had no doubt something to do with this decision of the Council.
After the war in Burgundy, the 'pays romand' (the French-speaking part
of Switzerland) had attracted the attention of that powerful republic.
Somewhat later she had formed treaties of co-citizenship with Geneva and
Lausanne; and when she saw the king of France raising an army, and
moving it towards the Alps, she feared lest that prince should be
beforehand with her. But the solicitations of Baudichon de la
Maisonneuve, and the voices of the Bernese citizens who were for
independence and the Reformation, had, after God, the greatest share in
the decision of that state. The Bernese Council issued a proclamation to
the people, in which, after setting forth the peril of Geneva, they went
on to say: 'This matter touches, first of all, the glory of God, and
next it touches us.' 'We are ready,' answered the people, 'to sacrifice
our goods and our lives for the maintenance of the faith and of our
oaths.' Twenty thousand men offered to march. The change which now took
place in the councils of Berne was so unexpected that it was generally
ascribed to the direction of God. 'Berne, urged by the divine
inspiration, is moving,' wrote a pious Bernese to Bullinger, Zwingle's
successor at Zurich.[699] And that excellent Genevan, Porral, said in
the fulness of his joy: 'O God, I thank Thee for that Thou hast inspired
our citizens to give us help and comfort.'[700]

On the 16th of January a herald bore to the duke of Savoy a declaration
of war with fire and sword. Francis Nägueli was unanimously appointed
commander of the expedition. A decided Christian, a tried captain, and a
skilful negotiator, he was adored by his soldiers, who called him 'our
Franz.' From the twenty thousand men who offered themselves he selected
six thousand. He gave two orders. A new weapon was then succeeding the
halberds and the long swords; the arquebuses threw balls that struck the
enemy invisibly. Nägueli wished to have the advantage of that weapon.
'Bring _fire-sticks_,' he said. He moreover exacted strict discipline:
'Be orderly, just, and kind towards the peasantry, as well as fearless
in battle.'

[Sidenote: BERTHOLD HALLER.]

There was another man in Berne who had the cause of Geneva as much at
heart as Nägueli. The reformer, Berthold Haller, bowed down with
suffering, had only a few days to live. Yet as the army, before leaving
Berne, wished publicly to pray for God's help, he left his sick-bed with
some difficulty, and, supported by his friends, crawled into the
cathedral pulpit. That man, so mild, so timid, so mistrustful of
himself, showed on the approach of death an energy which had hitherto
been foreign to him. 'Men of Berne,' he said, with a voice almost
inaudible, 'be firm and courageous. Magistrates and people, officers and
soldiers, remain faithful to the Word of God. Honor the Gospel, by
behaving righteously, and follow up unshrinkingly for the love of God
your intention to snatch from the destruction that threatens them our
poor brethren of Geneva, hitherto sadly forsaken of men.'[701] Then
lifting his trembling hands towards heaven, Haller stretched them above
the silent army, and exclaimed, 'May God fill your hearts with faith,
and may He be your Comforter!' The whole army, the whole people, in the
city, in the canton, and even in the upper valleys among the perpetual
snows, repeated these words—the last the reformer uttered in
public—which became the watchwords of this holy war.

On Saturday (January 22d) six thousand men left the city, marching with
a firm step, not under their peculiar flags (for each city had its own),
but under that of Berne alone, a symbol at once of strength and unity. A
hundred cavalry and sixteen pieces of cannon accompanied the infantry.
They all wore a white cross on a red field; the old mark of the
crusaders was their only uniform. Haller's words had borne fruit. Those
children of the mountains went to the help of their brothers with
enthusiasm and with faith. The noble Nägueli rode at their head. He
desired to make an evangelical and Helvetic country of the beautiful
valley of the Leman. He was serious and silent, for he was meditating on
the means of freeing Geneva completely, but at the cost of as little
blood as possible. The soldiers marched after him, active and joyful, in
the midst of a crowd of men, women, and children collected from the
villages round about; and those bold Helvetians, with heads erect, made
the road echo with their songs of war. The Chronicle of old Switzerland
has preserved them for us:

  Be silent, people all, and listen to my lay.
    Sing, comrades, raise to heaven the well-known strain,
    For the bear has left his mountain den, and following in his train
  Stalk terror and alarm to all who try to bar his way.
  With eager footsteps on he goes, the weeping ones to save,
  Whom all the world hath left to sink unaided to the grave.

  My gallant, gallant bear! God hath raised thee from the dead;
    Bound in his chains, the scorn of men, the pope long held thee fast,
    But Christ hath snapped thy bonds, and the night of slavery is passed.
  Once more the light of day falls from heaven upon thy head.
  What a crowd of joyous cubs swarms around thee in thy den,
  For wondrous is the love God hath shown thee among men.

  Cheer up, old mountain bear! and with head uplifted high,
    Let him who tries to stop thee have a care!
    Woe, woe to him that hateth thee, woe to the knaves who fear
  To follow where thou leadest—to Rome and victory,
  To dethrone the king of liars, at the hypocrites to laugh,
  And their idolatries to scatter to the winds of heaven like chaff.

  I await thee in the mountains, when the bloody strife is o'er,
    And thou comest with the laurel wreath upon thy head;
    Thou shalt drink our mountain streams, grassy meads shall be thy bed,
  There thy wearied limbs shall rest, and thy heart be glad once more,
  He who fighteth for the faith, findeth glory at the last,
  And God shall crown the warrior for the dangers he has passed.[702]

[Sidenote: THE ARMY AT MORAT.]

On the first day the army reached the battle-field of Morat, which the
soldiers hailed with enthusiasm. The contingents of Bienne, Nidau, La
Neuville, Neuchâtel, Valengin, Château d'Œx, Gessenay, and Payerne,
burning with affection for Geneva and the Reformation, joined the
Bernese flag in the last-named town. Here the Avoyer de Watteville
passed this noble army in review on the 24th of January, and
administered the oath to it.

Geneva presented at this time a less showy spectacle. The famine, which
for some months had distressed the city, was now prowling like a ghastly
phantom in every street, frightening the women and children, and even
the men themselves. Cold and sickness, the inevitable consequences of
deprivation, filled the houses with suffering and mourning. These
adversities were like a fierce torrent that sweeps away everything it
touches. Even the brave began to grow dejected. At this conjuncture a
man arrived from Berne, the bearer of two messages. One, on paper, had
been given him to avert suspicion in case he should be stopped by the
governor of Vaud; it was a demand for Furbity's liberation. The other
message was to be made verbally. 'Detain me here a prisoner,' said the
Bernese, 'and put me to death, if my lords do not march out with their
army to help you.' The people of Geneva could not believe him. 'In three
days,' he added, 'you will see the castles of the country in flames.
That will be the signal of Berne's coming.'[703]

When there was no longer any doubt of the arrival of the liberators, the
Genevan population, so long afflicted, breathed and took courage. The
most energetic men did not want to wait until their allies had arrived.
Versoix, an important place belonging to the duke of Savoy, might stop
the Bernese army. Fourscore citizens, manning a few boats, attacked it
from the lake, put to flight the soldiers of Savoy by the fire of their
cannon, and entered the fortress. The granaries were filled with corn,
the cellars with wine, and the stalls with cattle: this was to the
hungry citizens like the scene in the camp of the Syrians at the gates
of Samaria.[704] The Genevese hastily removed to their boats all that
they could carry away, and returning to the city displayed their booty
in the market-place in the midst of an immense crowd. Wheat, barley, and
cattle were sold at a low rate. Everybody ran and bought what he wanted;
all rejoiced at this unexpected succor. And yet great danger still
impended over Geneva.

[Sidenote: COMBINATION OF PRINCES.]

It is true Berne was coming to her help; but more than that was required
to save the city. The emperor's plan was (as we have seen) to crush the
Reformation, which opposed his absolute sovereignty in Germany. It has
been said that Francis I., attracted by the offer of Milan, had shown an
inclination to let Charles V. do what he liked. Could Berne resist that
powerful monarch?[705] Would not the patricians, who more than once had
shown themselves very cold with respect to Geneva, be found returning to
their old system of compromises and delays? A great change in the
relations and projects of the princes could alone, as it would appear,
save the city. Now just at this very moment a series of events was
taking place that suddenly transformed the political aspect of Europe.

Catherine of Aragon, aunt of Charles V., died. In consequence of her
decease, the emperor relinquished his design of invading England, and
kept the duchy of Milan, which he had offered to the king of France to
induce him to combine against Henry VIII. Francis I., treated by the
emperor as a person of no importance, swore that he would be avenged.
But to reach Charles V. and seize Milan, it was necessary to march over
the body of his uncle, the duke of Savoy. He did not hesitate to let
this prince know 'how little he would be advantaged by not having France
for a friend.'[706] Now, if the duke of Savoy, prince of Piedmont, is
driven by the king of France beyond the Alps and further still, Geneva
is saved.

At the sight of the danger which threatened him, Charles III. would have
liked to renew the old alliance with his nephew; but the influence of
his wife, who had 'led him into this dance,'[707] kept him bound to the
cause of the emperor. In his embarrassment he formed a resolution that
was not devoid of a certain cleverness, and which would make the
conquest of Geneva and its annexation to the dominions of the emperor
inevitable. Charles III. offered to cede to Charles V., in exchange for
various Italian provinces, the western slopes of the Alps, 'all the
country he possessed from Nice to the Swiss League, including
Geneva.'[708] By establishing the house of Austria between himself and
France, the duke would raise an impassable barrier against his restless
neighbor, and at the same time gratify the taste of the house of Savoy,
which loved to extend itself on the side of Italy. By virtue of this
exchange, the states of Charles V. would have bordered France everywhere
from the Mediterranean to the North Sea. Francis I. was alarmed. 'I will
not permit the emperor,' he said, 'to set up such a _ladder_[709]
against my kingdom, in order to invade it from that quarter
hereafter.'[710] All his hesitation ceased, and he determined to carry
out without delay the plan he had formed of invading Savoy, Piedmont,
and the Milanese. Thus at the very moment when the duke was preparing to
crush Geneva, he saw a storm suddenly gathering which was at once to
drive him from both slopes of the Alps and save the little city. Let us
see whether such was really the result of that policy.

The Swiss army, commanded by Nägueli, had started from Payerne on the
24th of January and arrived the next day at Echallens, whence it was to
march on Morges. The contingents of Orbe and Lausanne, desirous of
taking part in the deliverance of Geneva, came to increase his force,
which was thus raised to about ten thousand men. Sebastian de
Montfaulcon, bishop of Lausanne, a proud, intriguing, domineering
priest, inflamed with anger at seeing his people declare for Geneva,
determined to raise troops to oppose the liberating army. His bailiff
and secretary, going into the steep and narrow streets of the city,
knocked at every door, and asked whether the inmates would take the side
of the bishop or of the burgesses. Montfaulcon himself set out for his
castle of Glérolles, near St. Saphorin, in order to stir up the
inhabitants of La Vaux. But Nägueli was to encounter in his march a more
formidable obstacle than Montfaulcon and his extempore soldiers.

Medici, informed of the march of the Bernese army, had determined to
attack it before it reached Geneva. He could see that if Nägueli were
once established in that city, it would not be easy to take it. The plan
of the Italian commander was to march by Thonon and Evian, carry his
soldiers across the lake, give battle to the Bernese, and, after
defeating them, turn upon Geneva, which would be incapable of resisting
him. The character and antecedents of the devastating condottiere were
sufficient to indicate the fate reserved for his conquest. The city
would have been pillaged, perhaps burnt, in conformity with the habits
of Giangiacomo.

[Sidenote: THE TWO ARMIES MEET.]

That formidable chief had crossed the lake with his army in boats from
Chablais, and had almost reached Morges; his intention being to give a
solid base to his operations, not only by being master of Morges, which
was under the duke's orders, but still further by taking possession,
with the bishop's help, of Lausanne, whose liberal citizens were ready
to join Nägueli. On the 27th of January, in the evening, a detachment
started for that purpose under the orders of the Sieur de Colloneys. But
the latter had not gone far when Medici perceived fires on the heights
near the villages of Bussigny, Renens, and Crissier; it was the Bernese
who were preparing to bivouac on the hills. The fugitive governor of
Musso had no idea that the enemy was so near. He had not yet taken up
his position and the Swiss were in sight. He called back the detachment,
and early next morning sent out some of his cavalry to reconnoitre the
Swiss army and skirmish with them. Nägueli, not doubting that the hour
of battle had arrived, drew up his formidable line on the heights of
Morges; all his men were full of ardor.[711] Medici also desired to
arrange his troops for the struggle, but was not blind to the
disadvantages of his position. Nägueli was on the heights, while the
Savoyard troops had their backs to the lake, into which they might be
driven. The general, sent by the duke of Savoy to destroy Geneva, looked
with astonishment at the army of the new crusaders. He found himself in
presence of that valorous Nägueli who, as captain-general of the
Leagues, had taken from him his castle of Musso and the lands he had
seized by stratagem or force. More than once this robber-chief had said:
'What neither the emperor nor the king of France could do, that Switzer
did.' And now, at the head of the troops of Piedmont and Savoy, and
supported by Charles V., the late castellan of Musso had flattered
himself with the hope of taking vengeance for the injury he had once
endured; but it was the contrary that happened. Instead of rushing
forward at the head of his veteran soldiers, he was confused; he
hesitated, and his heart seemed to fail him.

[Sidenote: FLIGHT OF MEDICI.]

How was that? Was it because the sight of the army of Berne in line of
battle intimidated him? Was it because the gentlemen of Vaud and Gex,
upon whom he had counted, remembering the valor of the Swiss at Gingins,
had no desire to risk the chance of receiving a second lesson, and kept
away? Was it because the reinforcements expected from Savoy had not
arrived? Or was it because bad news reached him from Chambery, informing
him that the duke could think of nothing but the defence of his
hereditary states against the king of France? All these reasons had
something to do with the trouble of the former castellan of Musso; but
the last was the strongest. What a vexation for Medici! He had vaunted
that he would put an end to the interminable existence of Geneva; and at
the first rencounter he has to retreat. He had reckoned on the pleasure
of destroying _a nest of heretics_, and he cannot prevent Nägueli's
saving it. At this critical moment, one of the most daring captains of
the age seemed to become one of the most cowardly. There are people who,
audacious in prosperity, lose their heads when the chances are against
them. The flotilla in which the commander of the troops of Savoy had
traversed the lake lay at anchor a little distance from Morges, on the
side of Lausanne. Medici deserted the field of battle without striking a
blow, and embarked a portion of his troops while the remainder stopped
in Morges, a fortified city. Nägueli, seeing that the enemy was
retiring, pushed the advanced guard of the Swiss down to the shore. The
Italian captain, desiring at least to burn a few cartridges, discharged
the guns of his fleet at the Bernese, who returned the fire; but it was
not difficult for the latter to get out of reach of the cannonade.

During this petty engagement, the Spaniards and Italians, who to the
number of about seven hundred had taken shelter in Morges, furious at
seeing the triumph of the protestants so near at hand, behaved in that
city, which belonged to the duke, as if they had been in a hostile town.
They rushed into the castle, broke open private houses, and even
pillaged the churches, everywhere committing the cruellest
outrages;[712] after which they opened the gate on the Rolle side, and
most of them ran away. Some escaped on horseback, 'and the rest, says
Froment, 'got off fighting with a two-legged sword.'[713] Medici sent
two or three boats to Morges to bring off those who had not decamped,
and then sailed away to Savoy. One might almost say that an invincible
angel of the Almighty, as in the days of Judah, had put the enemies of
the Word of God to flight.[714]

[Sidenote: THE POWER OF MORAL FORCE.]

The break-up was complete: a panic terror had fallen upon the soldiers.
The roads, the plain, the mountain paths were crowded with fugitives.
The motives that induced Medici to retire were doubtless unknown to his
troops; but there is another explanation, a moral explanation, of their
disorderly flight. The Italian bands had crossed the Alps because their
captains had promised to deliver up to them Geneva, whose wealth rumor
had greatly exaggerated. It was a very different motive that animated
the Swiss: they had left their mountains and their valleys to secure
national independence and liberty of faith in Geneva in opposition to
the pope, the bishop, and the duke. The Genevese themselves, in the
obstinate struggle they had maintained for so many years, were impelled
by the noblest motives. But moral principles give to an army a moral
energy which bands of pillagers cannot resist. There is no doubt that
Medici's condottieri were in many respects better soldiers than the
shepherds of the Alps or the shopkeepers of the little city; but the
latter had a holy cause to defend. Their glance sufficed to scare the
bandits, who, renouncing the plunder of the hostile city, pillaged the
towns of their allies and fled as fast as oars or legs could carry them.
On the 30th of January the Council of Geneva were able to enter the
following words on their minutes: 'Four thousand Italian and other
foreigners, who had made preparations at Morges for the defence of the
country (Vaud), made no resistance and fled like cowards without
striking a blow.'

But Nägueli might encounter adversaries more formidable than the
Italians of Medici. The chiefs of all the district lying between the
Alps and the Jura, not only those of Vaud, but of Gex, Chablais, and
other parts of Savoy, were a real power. It was not known at that time
what part they would take. Their absence from Morges might only have
been occasioned by delay. Might not the priests be found arousing their
parishioners and marching at their head, as they had done three months
before at the battle of Gingins? If the cavaliers of the Middle Ages
should unite with the mercenaries of the sixteenth century, it would be
all over with Geneva. But the victory gained at Gingins by four hundred
and fifty sons of the Reformation over three to four thousand nobles and
soldiers, had, as we have mentioned, spread terror throughout the
country. They called to mind that one had put seven to flight; that many
chiefs had fallen by the balls of those keen marksmen; and that a
hundred priests had bitten the dust. Hence it was that only a few of the
gentry had any idea of taking up the sword: the priests kept silence,
and even the intrepid baron of La Sarraz went and hid himself within the
walls of Yverdun. The real feat of arms that delivered Geneva was the
victory of Gingins, gained by the independent friends of the
reformation: the official expedition of Berne was the triumphal march
which gathered the fruits and wore the laurels.

Nägueli, who stopped in Morges until the next day, was aroused in the
middle of the night by his alarmed followers. The sentries at the harbor
had heard the noise of oars in the distance. Was the enemy returning
from Savoy in greater force? Each man held his breath, the sound drew
nearer, and presently a boat approached. It might perhaps be followed by
others; but no, it was alone, and brought letters for Medici which had
probably been delayed. Everything was seized, and from the dispatches
the Bernese general learnt that the count of Challans had dispatched to
the Italian commander a considerable reinforcement of cavalry and
infantry.

Nägueli, thinking to come up with this reinforcement near Geneva,
hurried forward to meet them. On the morning of the 30th of January he
started for Rolle; no obstacle retarded his march; nobles and soldiers
'had been reduced to dust by terror.'[715] The fields were deserted; the
small towns and villages were empty; fear of the Bernese had swept the
country. The general, in concert with his chiefs, had agreed that it
would be an unwise policy to neglect establishing peace in that district
with a firm hand, as well for the present as for the future. Another
principle also animated the Bernese: they wanted to extend the territory
of the Helvetic League and their own as far as the shores of Lake Leman.
Now so long as the power of the nobles of Vaud, who were strongly
attached to Savoy, remained unbroken, there would be perpetual
insurrections, and Berne would hardly be in a position to hold her own.
Nägueli was persuaded that the strength of the cruel chevaliers of those
valleys lay in their strongholds. 'If we want to drive out the wolves,'
he said, 'we must destroy their dens.' The castles of Rolle and Rosay
were reduced to ashes; and the Genevans, seeing in the darkness of the
night those distant flames, shouted with joy, '_They are coming!_'

Nägueli resumed his march, sparing the inhabitants, but everywhere
destroying the images. Passing near Nyon without attacking it, he moved
upon Divonne and Gex, important positions from which he desired to expel
the enemy before entering Geneva.

[Sidenote: FRANCOIS DE GINGINS.]

François de Gingins, lord of Divonne and Chatelard, who had at first
taken part in the blockade of Geneva, but had withdrawn his troops
during the frosts of December, had shut himself up in his castle of
Divonne on the hills which overlook that village. Nägueli desired to
treat with respect a nobleman whose ancestors had been counted from the
tenth century among the great vassals of the kings of Transjurassic
Burgundy, and who possessed an amiable character and pacific
disposition. Brought up by his maternal uncle, the count of Gruyères,
and afterwards appointed by the king of France page of honor in his
household, he had returned to his home and married his cousin Margaret,
daughter of Antoine de Gingins, president of the sovereign council of
Savoy. He had small liking for the priests, whose gross and often
immoral conduct offended him; but he was alarmed at the idea of being
unfaithful to the Church and feudalism, and after some hesitation
attached himself to Roman-catholicism and the duke.[716] Margaret had,
it is said, some share in the change which afterwards occurred in the
family. The ladies of the castles were generally superior to their
husbands; they were more accessible to religious impressions. While the
lord was away at tournaments or on warlike expeditions, the wife
remained mistress of the household, governed her children and servants,
and virtues were often developed in her which would have been vainly
sought for elsewhere. A son speaking of his mother, describes her
beauty, her features always tranquil, her brow armed with severe
chastity, her virtuous looks, her regulated conversation, her modesty,
her fear of God, and her charity.[717] It is thus we love to picture to
ourselves Margaret of Gingins.

The young lord of Divonne liked the neighborhood of Geneva and the
intelligence of its inhabitants, and, without being aware of it, the
cause of the Reformation had made some progress in his heart. In 1548 he
made over his four castles of Gingins, Divonne, Chatelard, and Sarraz to
his sons, and retired to Geneva, where he remained to the end of his
days.[718] Thus, in his person, peace was concluded between the
redoubtable gentlemen of the country and the city which they had so
harassed. Nägueli, aware of the good inclinations of the baron, did not
burn his castle, and was content with exacting from him a ransom of
three hundred crowns.

On Tuesday (February 1st) ten syndics of Geneva came to present the
Bernese general with the thanks of the city. While they were in
conference with him, a noise was heard in the castle. They all pricked
up their ears. The old abbot De Gingins, episcopal vicar of Geneva, who
had retired (as we have seen) into the Jura, to his isolated convent of
Bonmont, alarmed at the approach of the army, disturbed by the
recollection of his licentious life, and remembering that the Swiss had
no liking for wicked priests, a great number of whom had fallen at
Gingins, had taken refuge at Divonne in his nephew's castle, where he
believed himself safe from all harm. He kept quiet in a secret
hiding-place, greatly tormented by fear that the Bernese might discover
him. Some soldiers, who were ordered to search the castle, found him and
brought him more dead than alive before their general. As the latter
sharply reproached the lord of Divonne with violating their convention,
the alarm of the old sinner increased; but he began to breathe again,
when the general declared that he would be willing to release him for a
ransom of four hundred crowns. The poor abbot, though the fear of death
was passed, never recovered from his fright.

The Savoyard troops, whose arrival had been announced to Medici by the
count of Challans, had not appeared, and we may understand the reason.
Consequently, next morning (February 2d) Nägueli, finding that there was
no enemy to prevent his entering Geneva, divided his soldiers into three
corps: one was to reduce the country between the Rhone and the Jura as
far as the Fort de l'Ecluse, which it was to take; the other was to
march to Gex, and burn the castle; while the rest of the army started
for Geneva.[719]

[Sidenote: BERNESE WAR-SONG.]

The Genevans awaited with great impatience the arrival of their
liberators. The sun cheered with its beams the brightest of the days in
Genevese history. The snows which covered the mountains glittered in the
distance; but in the plain at their feet, flashes of light were observed
which delighted the citizens still more. 'Two leagues off,' says
Froment, 'we could see the arms glittering, which was a great joy to
us.' The young people ran forward to meet their deliverers, and in a
short time the Bernese army approached and passed through an
enthusiastic crowd stationed on both sides of the road. The leaders
Nägueli, Weingarten, Cyro, Diesbach, and Graffenried, came first on
horseback; then followed the bannerets, councillors, provosts, and other
members of the Councils of Berne; and last of all the liberating army,
seventeen pieces of artillery, and the companies of Neuchâtel, Lausanne,
and other places in Vaud. As the Bernese passed the gates and entered
the city, they sang aloud once more these strains to the glory of God:

  When the people's heart is silent,
    And their eyes are closed in death,
  Then God, the great Deliverer,
    Awakes them with a breath.
  Proud as Egyptian Pharaoh
    Was the Duke on Leman's shore,
  For twice five tedious years his yoke
    Geneva, groaning, bore.
  A martyr to the faith, she flies
    Panting and still oppressed.
  The hour is come: 'Up, Judah, up!
    Pass through the sea, and be at rest.'

  Her voice among our mountains
    Resounded, and her cry
  Of anguish tired the echoes,
    But no man made reply.
  Deaf to Geneva's woes and sleeping
    Among her meads Helvetia lay;
  But our rocks at last are shaken;
  With a shout the Bernese waken,
  And to succor the oppressed
  They march with dauntless breast:
    The Bear alone to pity giveth way.

  To the war the fierce old bear,
    With his eager cubs, has gone:
  Day of safety to God's children,
    Day of gladness to each one.
  Day of death to thee, rash prince,
    Day of sorrow and of shame,
  Day of fire which shall consume thee
    With inextinguishable flame.
  Expect not mercy, for thy crime
    Has dried up mercy's spring;
  My voice, once soft, now thunders loud,
    And fierce remorse thy heart shall wring.

  Berne, if thy heart could counterfeit,
    If thy proud neck could bend;
  If thy tongue, in honeyed accents,
    Could kings, as gods, commend;
  Then their haughty palace gates
    Would before thee open wide,—
  But Christ is thy salvation,
    And His cup thy boast and pride.
  They have left thee all alone,
  Thy friends,—where are they flown?
    In the battle no man fighteth at thy side.

  Fear nothing! every coming age
    Shall bless thy memory;
  For twice ten days thy cry has been:
    'We conquer or we die!'[720]
  What feats have been accomplished
    By thy arm! how many a town
  And many a haughty ruler
    Before thee hath gone down!
  Burnt are their castles, and their gods
    Low in the dust are laid;
  While all men sing thy glory,
    That knows nor spot nor shade.

  Happy the people among whom
    The great God loves to abide;
  Who daily search the Lord's own book,
  Who scorn the pope, who upward look
    To Christ their heavenly guide.
  They sheathe their swords, and turning
    Their hearts to God above,
  From morn to eve unshrinkingly
    They trust upon His love.[721]

[Sidenote: TO GOD BE THE GLORY.]

'Geneva received her deliverers with great delight,' says an
eye-witness, 'and replied to their songs with cries of joy.'[722] The
barbarous captain, sent against the huguenots to destroy them, had
disappeared; the wild beast, after a roar, had returned hastily to his
den. Their goods, their liberty, their faith, their lives were saved.
Excited by this great deliverance, the Genevans were not satisfied
merely with expressing their gratitude to the Bernese, but looked
higher. They knew that a Supreme Power, an Infinite Love, holds the
affairs of this world in His hands. It was that faith which was to make
the little city grow, and they wished to give expression to it. The
council being assembled, they resolved to enrol in the annals of the
republic a testimony of their gratitude, and ordered these words to be
written:

'_The power of God has confounded the presumption and rash audacity of
our enemies._'[723]

Froment, too, an eye-witness of these things, wrote in his _Gestes
Merveilleux_ the following simple and touching words:

'_In the year 1536, and in the month of February, Geneva was delivered
from her enemies by the providence of God._'[724]

[696] Hieronymo Soranzo, _Relazione di Roma_.—Ripenmonte, _Historiæ
urbis Mediolani_.—Ranke, _Römische Päpste_.

[697] 'Die Soldaten, darunter 4,000 Italiäner.'—Stettler, _Chronik_,
p. 82.

[698] Beauregard, _Mémoire sur la maison de Savoie_, tom. i.
p. 324.—Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 207.—C. Zwick to B. Haller,
le 12 Janvier 1536.

[699] Veluti numine quodam instinctus.'—Sulzer to Bullinger, le 11
Février 1536.

[700] Stettler, _Chronik_, p. 78.—Lettre de Porral.—Mémoire de
Pierre-Fleur, p. 140.

[701] 'Die armen, verlassen, Christlichen Mitbrüder zu Genf.'—
Kirchofer's _Haller_, p. 231.

[702] Werner Steiner, _Sammlung_.—_Le Chroniqueur_, p. 202.—Pierre-Fleur,
p. 143.—Stettler, _Chronik_, p. 81.

[703] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 208.

[704] 2 Kings ch. vii.

[705] Letter from the bishop of Lausanne to the bailiff of
Vevey.—Stettler, _Chronik_.—Mémoires de Pierre-Fleur, p. 145.

[706] Mémoires de Du Bellay, liv. v. p. 239.

[707] _Ibid._ p. 240.

[708] Mémoires de Du Bellay, liv. v. p. 240.

[709] Echelle.

[710] Mémoires de Du Bellay, liv. v. p. 240.

[711] 'Ihre Feinde unerschrocken anzugreifen.'—Stettler, _Chronik_,
p. 82.

[712] Chron. MSC. de Roset, liv. iii. ch. 59.—Savion, iii.
p. 175.—Stettler, _Chronik_, p. 82.

[713] 'En bataillant de l'épée à deux pieds.'—Froment, _Gestes de
Genève_, p. 209.—Registres du Conseil du 30 Janvier 1536.—Chron. MSC. de
Roset, liv. iii. ch. 59 and 60.

[714] 2 Kings ch. xix.

[715] 'Verstaubt mit solchem Schrecken.'—Stettler, _Chronik_, p. 512.

[716] Manuscript archives of the family of Gingins.

[717] Life of Guibert de Nogent.—Collection des Mémoires de M. Guizot,
tom. ix. p. 346.

[718] Manuscript archives of the Gingins family.

[719] Registres du Conseil du 2 Février 1536.—Stettler, _Chronik_,
p. 82.

[720] The army left Berne on the 22d of January and entered Geneva on
the 2d of February.

[721]

  Die, dann, das Schwerdt verborgen,
    Das Herz in Gott versenkt,
  Die Gottheit lassen sorgen,
  Am Abend wie am Morgen
    Die alle Herzen lenkt.

Werner Steiner, MSC. Sammlung.—Froment, _Gestes de Geneve_,
P. 209.—Registres du Conseil du 2 Février 1536.

[722] MSC. de Roset, liv. iii. ch. 59.

[723] 'La puissance de Dieu a confondu la présomption et la téméraire
audace de nos ennemis.'—Registres du Conseil du 30 Janvier 1536.

[724] 'L'an 1536 et au mois de Février, Genève fut délivrée de ses
ennemis par la providence de Dieu.'—Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 207.




 CHAPTER XIII.
 DESTRUCTION OF THE CASTLES—JOY IN GENEVA—LIBERATION OF BONIVARD.
 (FROM FEBRUARY TO THE END OF MARCH 1536.)


There was now to be an interview between the liberators and the
liberated. Berne and Geneva, united by a common faith, were to embrace
each other. The members of those two republics loved one another not
only as allies but as brothers. On Thursday (February 3d) the Council of
Two Hundred assembled; many other citizens were present, and the hall
was full. Nägueli appeared, accompanied by his principal officers and
the representatives of the Council of Berne. The assembly gave utterance
to its joy, and all eyes were fixed on the valiant general. 'Most
honored lords,' he said, 'this long while past we have heard your
complaints. For these twenty months we have been making great efforts at
Lucerne, Baden, and even Aosta; and having thus exhausted all the means
of peace, we have drawn the sword, and the enemy has fled on every side.
Now we will do whatever you command us, for we are here to fulfil the
oaths that unite Geneva and Berne.' Such noble language moved the
assembly. 'May God do the same for you,' replied the premier syndic.
Then desiring the work to be perfect, he added: 'Now, gentlemen, march
onwards; pursue the enemy until the end; we are ready to give you all
necessary assistance.' It was decided that the army should make itself
master of Chablais on the left shore of the lake, and push forward on
the other side as far as Chambery. In all those districts they would
circulate the Word of God.[725]

[Sidenote: BURNING OF THE CASTLES.]

There was first another task to be completed. For centuries the castles
had obstructed the progress of civilization, and in later years that of
the gospel. It was from those eyries, perched on their lofty rocks, that
the vultures swooped down upon the plain. Bishops even had been known to
entreat the princes to destroy, 'for the love of God and the honor of
the blessed Mary, those buildings constructed by the inspiration of
Satan.'[726] This the evangelical Nägueli was about to do, and
henceforth the husbandman would drive his plow in peace through fields
from which he would no longer fear to see the fruit of his labors swept
away.

The inhabitants of the castles had disappeared: fear of the Bernese had
depopulated the country. Men, women, and children had taken refuge in
the miserable chalets of the Salève, Voirons, Mole, and Jura. Priests
and monks, hurriedly abandoning their parishes and their convents, threw
off their frocks and assumed the garb of the peasantry. 'Not one man in
all the country dared represent himself as a priest or a monk.' Every
now and then one of them dressed in a coarse gray coat would leave his
hiding-place, and mysteriously entering some half-deserted hut, would
ask the affrighted peasant 'what the bear of Berne was doing.' 'But take
care,' he added, 'you tell nobody that I am a priest.' The clerical and
lay despots of the Middle Ages learnt in their turn what it was to
tremble.

At length a great spectacle of desolation, which was to be the last,
began. A judgment—may we not call it a judgment of God?—was
accomplished. Here and there at first a few flames were seen flashing
forth, and these soon became an immense conflagration. Detachments,
consisting of Bernese and Genevans, issued from the city: some turned to
the right, others to the left; the ancient walls of some old towers were
their aim. 'It was from thence,' said the Genevans, 'that rapine and
death have so often rushed out upon us.' The building was surrounded,
the most impetuous made their way into the interior and set fire to it,
and when the flames had caught they rushed off for another execution.
These detachments were followed by a numerous troop of men, women, and
boys, who had their share also in the business. The judgment of God
swept over the country, as of old over the land of Canaan. The
fortresses of Gex, Gaillard, and Jussy, those terrible scourges of
Geneva; the castles of Coppet, Prangins, Bellerive, Vilette,
Ville-la-Grand, and many others, fell a prey to the flames. They were in
all, according to Froment, from a hundred to a hundred and forty. Geneva
was sometimes surrounded by a circle of fire. The longer and crueller
the offence, the more terrible was the punishment. No one was put to
death, but those feudal lairs, which crumbled away in the midst of the
flames, were a sacrifice offered by the Swiss to the shades of the
citizens immolated by their former possessors.

[Sidenote: DESTRUCTION OF PENEY.]

There was one castle in particular whose destruction the Genevans
desired: it was Peney. On the 8th of February some Bernese, accompanied
by a few horsemen and gunners of Geneva, started for this purpose. The
blood shed by the Peneysans and their numberless outrages made them cry
out unanimously, 'No mercy for Peney!' The almost abandoned fortress was
easily occupied. A fire was kindled in that courtyard where the victims
had been so cruelly tortured. The castle was soon in flames, and there
remained nothing but dismantled towers and blackened walls; but that was
not enough. Those walls still seemed guilty, and the Genevans so
completely destroyed the ill-omened ruin that not a trace of it can now
be found. All the country was at length swept clean of a long-continued
brigandage; but (we repeat) it does not appear that one of those
gentlemen or of their dependents suffered death or even imprisonment for
their crimes. The device of Geneva and of Berne during this remarkable
expedition was: 'Spare the tyrants, but destroy their dens.'[727]

At the same time peace reigned within. A spirit of pardon seemed to have
descended upon the Genevans. Happiness enlarged all their hearts. On
Sunday (February 6th) sermons were preached in the different churches by
the reformers; after which the great bell, Clémence, reserved for solemn
occasions, summoned all the people to St. Pierre's. It was, as it were,
the first day of the new republic. 'Citizens,' said one of the syndics,
'in order that the city may prosper we must believe what the Gospel
teaches and live according to its commandments. Accordingly—and this is
our new decree—let all the animosities which sprang up during the war be
renounced; all offences pardoned, all quarrels forgotten, all lawsuits
given up. Let us drop all hateful names. Let no man henceforth say to
another, "You are a papist," or the latter reply, "You are a Lutheran."
But let us all live according to the Holy Gospel of God,' Such were the
first fruits of the Reformation. 'We will! we will!' shouted the people.
They then proceeded to the election of the four syndics who were to be
at the head of the new republic. The assembly chose the energetic Claude
Savoye, the amiable and persevering Ami Porral, and the zealous Etienne
de Chapeaurouge, men on the side of the Reformation but especially of
political experience. The people, wishing to have among their
magistrates one man purely evangelical, named Ami Levet, the husband of
the pious Claudine, although he was not on the list proposed by the
senate. Shortly afterwards the Two Hundred elected the twenty-five
members of the Council, and Balard, as well as Richardet,
Roman-catholics but good citizens, preserved their seats. In the hour of
their greatest enthusiasm the Genevans behaved justly and without
party-spirit—a thing rarely witnessed in the annals of nations.[728]

On the evening before, Nägueli, at the head of the army, augmented by a
Genevese contingent, had marched out in order to follow up his victory
as far as Chambery and _farther_. Ambitious thoughts may then perhaps
have stirred the hearts of some of the Bernese. For the triumph of the
Reformation (they might possibly have said for the grandeur of Berne)
they thought that Savoy, and even the north of Italy, ought to be
conquered. Let there be formed in the centre of Europe, on both sides of
the colossal citadels of the Alps, a great confederation of independent
and evangelical people, which shall circulate liberty and truth through
Germany, France, and the Italian peninsula. Therefore forward to
Chambery, and _farther_!

The dream was to melt away as soon as formed. The general was riding in
front, calm and pensive, followed by some of his officers. He turned his
head—there was no army to be seen. Nägueli galloped back towards Geneva,
and found his soldiers drawn up in a square in a large field and
deliberating democratically. What was the cause of such a breach of
military discipline? The soldiers, satisfied with having delivered
Geneva, did not care to follow their captain in his daring schemes. They
deliberated therefore, as they were wont to do in their valleys. Should
they march forward or turn back? 'To Berne,' cried many; 'to our fields,
our flocks, our mountains!' Nägueli succeeded, however, in getting the
army to march. Was he not their _good Franz_?[729]

[Sidenote: THE FRENCH INVADE SAVOY.]

On Saturday, 12th of February, the Swiss advanced guard had reached
Rumilly, near the lake of Bourget, eight leagues from Chambery, when M.
de Villebon, grand provost of Paris, arrived in great haste at the camp.
'The king my master,' he said, 'has a quarrel with the duke of Savoy,
his uncle, about his mother's rights. Yesterday (February 11th) he
signed at Lyons the commission given to the Sire de Brion-Chabot,
admiral of France, to attack Savoy. Eight hundred French lances, a
thousand light horse, twelve thousand infantry, six thousand
lansquenets, two thousand French adventurers, three thousand Italians,
and a powerful artillery are about to enter the states of the duchy; and
when Savoy is conquered, the French army will invade Piedmont. I require
you, therefore, in the name of the king, to proceed no farther.'
Nägueli, already shaken by the demands of his soldiers, answered that as
the King of France had rights over those countries, the Swiss would
discontinue their advance.[730]

[Sidenote: LAST YEARS OF THE DUKE.]

Other hands than those of Switzerland were to deal the last blows
destined to secure the Reformation and independence of Geneva. Villebon
had hardly got back to Lyons, when the army of Francis I. moved forward,
overran Bresse and Savoy, then invaded Piedmont, and afterwards the
Milanese. The duke, always irresolute, had taken no steps to check the
French. It was in vain that at the last moment he called Medici to his
aid; that captain, who had been unable to destroy Geneva, could not save
Piedmont. Charles III., abandoned by the emperor, his brother-in-law,
found himself, after spending thirty years of his life in hunting down
Geneva, robbed in four months of his states, which he never entered
again, and driven to bay on the shores of the Mediterranean. All kinds
of disasters fell upon him at once. His country was devastated by the
plague; his friends turned against him; the emperor showed him no pity;
his son, the heir to his crown, was taken away by death; his beautiful
and haughty wife, Beatrice of Portugal, pierced to the heart by so many
misfortunes, died of a wasting sickness. Of all his states there was
nothing left but the valley of Aosta, Nice, and two or three other
cities. Alone and affrighted, this unhappy prince dragged out a
wearisome life. He regretted his son, regretted his wife, regretted his
states. His heated imagination surrounded him with phantoms; Geneva,
which, unopposed, was developing her glorious and new existence, was to
him an avenging ghost. He fell ill: he broke out in sweats; he shivered
with cold; his eyes grew dim and his face pale; he wasted away of a slow
fever. After a punishment of twenty-three years, death, the consequence
of his reverses and his sorrows, put an end to the painful existence of
the great enemy of Genevese independence and of the Reformation.[731]
His son, Emanuel Philibert, a man of great capacity, recovered his
states; but having many evils to repair, he adopted a pacific policy
with regard to Geneva. Forty-four years of peace permitted the
Reformation and the new republic to strengthen and organize themselves.
God gives to the people and the churches, whom he designs to make use
of, the time necessary for their development.

While these things were going on, dangers less apparent, but as great as
they were unexpected, threatened Geneva. As the Bernese desired to reap
advantage from the help accorded to the little republic, their
ambassadors put forward certain pretensions, which they set up a little
later with respect to Lausanne and Vaud, and which were then too easily
conceded. The lords of Berne, regardless of the reproach that might be
urged against them of having consulted merely their own interests in the
expedition, hinted to the council of Geneva that they ought to have
their reward, and asked that the rights and prerogatives of the duke and
the bishop should be transferred to them. Such a demand revolted the
proud independence of the Genevese, and they rejected the sovereignty of
Berne with as much decision as they had rejected that of Savoy. 'If we
had desired to have a master,' they answered with firmness, 'we should
have spared ourselves all the trouble, expense, and bloodshed of which
we have been so prodigal to secure our independence.' Berne was forced
to give way before a resolution that appeared immovable. When Nägueli
re-entered Geneva, after having taken the Fort de l'Ecluse on returning
from his short campaign, he was surprised to meet with a cold and
embarrassed reception, very different from the former enthusiastic
welcome. The noble general, who did not like such discussions, gave
immediate orders for the departure of his army.

There was still a great work to be accomplished. In conformity with the
instructions of the Bernese government, Nägueli was to break the twofold
yoke of the pope and the duke which pressed heavily upon the territory
of Vaud. His troops marched into that country without resistance, and
took Yverdun, in which the intrepid Mangerot had fortified himself. In a
short time cities, villages, and castles submitted; a few towns, tired
of the Savoyard rule, desired to be annexed to Berne. Others, especially
Lausanne and some rural districts, wished to retain all their rights;
but they gave way, when the Bernese promised to respect their
franchises. Under any circumstances it was a good work to take away from
the pope and unite to Switzerland the beautiful country that extends
from the lake of Geneva to that of Neuchâtel. Nägueli re-entered Berne
in peace, and his soldiers, proud of a four weeks' campaign that was to
have such important consequences, gave vent to their exultation, and
concluded their songs with this line:

  Respecte l'ours, ou bien crains les oursons.[732]

The work appeared to be accomplished. The city of the Reformation
thrilled with joy, and exulted in the air of liberty and of the Gospel.
Here and there, however, sorrows and regrets remained. Many hearts were
wrung, and many an eye was turned with mortification in the direction of
Chillon, where Bonivard had been languishing for six years. He had done
so much to give liberty to Geneva, and he alone was not free. He was
pining away, imprisoned within those rocks, which, excavated below the
level of the lake, form a gigantic sepulchre. A loophole permitted a
feeble ray of light to enter the dungeon, and the prisoner, while
walking slowly round the column to which he was chained, delighted to
turn his eyes towards that side, and sometimes contemplated (according
to tradition) a little bird, which used to perch on the iron bars of the
narrow opening. At the slightest noise, the bird flew off to the wood
behind the castle, or skimmed away over the surface of the lake. The
bird was free; but Bonivard was in chains. 'I had such leisure for
walking,' he said, 'that I wore away a path in the rock, as if it had
been done with a hammer.'[733] When he was seized by the perfidious
hands of his enemies he had said: 'I am going alone, with God, to suffer
my passion!' And suffer it he did. But while his body and heart
suffered, his mind was at work. Some of the thoughts which then occupied
him have been recorded by his own hand: _Live in remembrance of
death_,—_Courage increases by wounds_, and such like. For five or six
months the Genevan envoys, so traitorously seized at Coppet, had also
been imprisoned at Chillon, but not in the underground dungeons.

[Sidenote: CHILLON ATTACKED.]

Such iniquities could not be tolerated. Berne again took up her
_fire-sticks_, and Geneva prepared her boats. On the 20th of March one
hundred armed men were embarked on four war cutters and other vessels.
The Genevese councils had given the command to Francis Favre and Francis
Chamois. All the citizens would have liked to march in person to Chillon
to set Bonivard and the plenipotentiaries at liberty. On the day of
sailing, everybody left their houses, and from an agitated crowd
assembled near the Rhone, there rose a universal cry, 'Rescue the
captives!'

On Sunday morning—it was the 26th of March—Bonivard being as usual in
his dungeon, pricked up his ears. He fancied he heard an unaccustomed
noise; he was not mistaken. Loud but still distant cannon shots
re-echoed through the vaults of his prison. What was going on? It was
the artillery of Berne which, on its arrival at Lutry, between Lausanne
and Chillon, announced its presence. But that signal of deliverance was
to be the signal of death to Bonivard and the three envoys. 'If the
Bernese appear before the place,' wrote the duke of Savoy to the
governor, 'you will give the prisoners of Geneva the estrapade twice,
and then put them to death without hesitation.'[734] The duke intended
that the deliverers should find nothing but corpses.

The next morning (27th of March) Chillon was surrounded. Berne had drawn
up her troops and planted her guns below the village of Veytaux, between
the castle and Montreux. The Valaisans, although catholics, had also
taken up arms to expel the duke from their neighborhood, and had placed
their artillery on the Villeneuve side; the Genevans blockaded the
castle from the lake. The batteries opened fire, and the governor
perceiving that all resistance was useless, demanded a parley at
nightfall. Nägueli, Favre, and some other captains assembled at the foot
of a steep rock between the castle and the Bernese batteries, to receive
his deputies; but as they could not come at once to terms, the
conference was prolonged. The garrison, by no means anxious to fall into
the hands of the Swiss, determined to take advantage of this momentary
respite and of the veil of night, to make their escape. Silently they
crept on board the great galley; not a voice, not a sound of arms was
heard, and having thus mysteriously got away, they made rapidly towards
Savoy. When Favre was informed of it, he went immediately on board his
boat, which was moored to the shore, and hastened in pursuit of the
enemy; but before he could get up with them, they had thrown their
cannons into the lake, set fire to the galley, and from Lugrin, where
they landed, hurried into the Savoyard Alps below the Dents d'Oche. Had
they taken Bonivard and the three plenipotentiaries with them? It was a
question that could not be answered, and Favre, ill at ease, veered
round and returned to Chillon.[735]

[Sidenote: BONIVARD LIBERATED.]

The governor had surrendered just as he arrived. Nägueli, on leaving
Berne, had written to him that he should answer with his head for the
lives of the prisoners: he had, therefore, some hope of recovering them.
Favre, Chamois, and the other Genevans hastily sprang from their boats,
entered the castle, and in a minute they embraced the three envoys. But
where was Bonivard? They seized the keys of the vaults, unlocked a sunk
door, and entered. It was the hall of execution: beneath its rude arches
were wheels, axes, pulleys, cords, and all the horrible instruments with
which men were crippled or killed. The Genevans, without stopping, ran
to the door of an inner vault, undid the bars, pulled back the bolts.
The friends of the prior of Saint Victor sprang over the threshold,
rushed into the gloomy dungeon, reached the column. 'Here he is! he is
alive!' Bonivard fell into their arms. His friends found it difficult to
recognize him. The features changed by suffering, the long unkempt
beard, the hair falling over his shoulders—had changed his
appearance.[736] 'Bonivard,' they said to him, 'Bonivard, you are free!'
The prisoner, who seemed to be waking from a long sleep, did not think
of himself: his first words were for the city he had loved so much. 'And
Geneva?' he asked. 'Geneva is free too,' they replied. His chains were
taken off, and, conducted by his friends, he crossed the door of that
vast prison. The bright light which burst upon him affected his eyes
which had been deprived of it for so many years, and he turned them
mechanically towards the gloom of his dungeon. At last he recovered
himself and bade farewell to his sepulchre. The crowd looked at him for
some moments with emotion, and then rushed into that dismal cell, where
the wretched man had suffered so long. Every one desired to see it, and
for ages yet to come the traveller will visit it. The illustrious
prisoner was delivered; the last fortress of tyranny was captured; the
victory of the Reformation was complete. No traveller wandering along
the picturesque shore of Montreux can fail to look at those walls,
rising out of the water, without a feeling of horror for despotism and
of gratitude for the Gospel. Those rocks, so long the witnesses of
oppression, are now hailed with emotion and joy by the friends of the
Word of God and liberty.

  Chillon! thy prison is a holy place,
  And thy sad floor an altar.[737]

The flotilla was soon sailing back to Geneva with Bonivard and the three
parlementaires on board. They were returning joyously through the help
from on high, and in a short time they landed from their boats amid the
joyful shouts of their fellow-citizens, and placed their feet on a free
soil.[738]

[725] Registres du Conseil du 3 Février 1536.—Froment, _Gestes de
Genève_, pp. 210, 211, 213.

[726] Letter from Fulbert, bishop of Chartres, to King Robert.—Guizot,
_Civilisation en Europe_, p. 313.

[727] 'Epargnons les tyrans; abattons leurs repaires.'—Registres du
Conseil des 14 Mars et 4 Avril 1536.—Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, pp.
211, 212.—MSC. de Roset, liv. iii. ch. 61.—Stettler, _Chronik_, p. 82.

[728] Registres du Conseil du 6 Février.—MSC. de Roset, liv. iii.
ch. 62.—From this day the Council minutes are drawn up in French and not
in Latin. The old times are succeeded by the new.

[729] Mémoires de Pierre-Fleur, p. 146.

[730] Guichenon, ii. p. 212.—Froment, _Gestes de Genève_,
p. 214.—Stettler, _Chronik_, p. 85.—MSC. de Roset, liv. iii. ch. 61.

[731] Costa de Beauregard, _Mémoires de la Maison de Savoie_, pp.
323-327.—Du Bellay, Guichenon, Calvin, _passim_.

[732] 'Respect the bear, or fear his cubs.'—Chant de la Guerre de
Genève.—Mémoires de Pierre-Fleur, pp. 148-152.—Stettler, _Chronik_,
p. 87.

[733] 'J'avois tel loysir de me pourmener, que j'empreignis un chemin en
la roche, comme si on l'eût fait avec un martel.'—This pathway is well
known to all who have visited Chillon.

[734] Bonivard MS.—Mémoires d'Archéologie, iv. p. 207.—Mémoires de
Pierre-Fleur, p. 153.

[735] Bonivard MS.—Mémoires d'Archéologie. iv. p. 207.—Mémoires de
Pierre-Fleur, p. 153.—Registres du Conseil du 29 Mars 1536.

[736] 'Era divenuto difforme, con un volto tutto coperto da un gran pelo
et da lunghi capelli.'—Leti, _Hist. Giverrina_, tom. iii.—Mémoires
d'Archéologie, p. 269.

[737] Lord Byron, _The Prisoner of Chillon_.

[738] Registres du Conseil _ad diem_.




 CHAPTER XIV.
 THE PEOPLE OF GENEVA DESIRE TO LIVE ACCORDING TO THE GOSPEL.
 (MARCH TO JUNE 1536.)


An entire people is not converted to God in a body. The pagan religions
were identical with the nation; but the Christian Church is distinct
from it. Even the Apostolic Church soon extended beyond the narrow
limits of the tribe of Judah; it was founded at Jerusalem irrespective
of temple, sanhedrim, and Jews, and subsequently was established among
all nations unconnected with the state. A prince cannot decree a
religion by a cabinet minute; a people cannot elect it by a majority of
votes. There is, however, something grand in seeing an assembled nation
declare without constraint that they will take the Gospel as the rule of
their faith and the source of their life. This is what Geneva was about
to do.

[Sidenote: EVANGELIZATION BY ORDER.]

The communities which extended from the foot of the Jura to the Alps of
the Voirons and the Mole, had recognized the councils of Geneva as their
legitimate lords, reserving their own customs and franchises. But, in
the opinion of the Reformers, this territory would only be an
embarrassment, unless a new life were communicated to its inhabitants
and spread over the whole nation. Commerce, manufactures, liberty, and
letters do much for the prosperity of a people, but cannot be their
life. If the Word of God, _if the light of the_ _world_, does not
enlighten them, they fall sooner or later. These opinions were
sufficiently common in Geneva for an unknown poet to say to the united
parishes in this unpolished strain:

  Vaut-il pas mieux dire à Dieu nos secrets,
  Qu'à un grand tas d'idiots indiscrets?
  Vaut-il pas mieux au pauvre et au débile
  Donner habit, pain, vin, chandelle et huile,
  Qu'aux marmots d'or, d'argent, pierre, et bois,
  Rendre l'honneur défendu tant de fois?[739]

'Messieurs,' said Farel to the council on the 13th of March, 'the Word
of God ought to be preached in the parishes subject to this city.' Ten
days later he made a fresh application to that assembly on the same
matter, when he was supported by politicians as well as by men of piety.
To leave the seeds of popery in Geneva and in her rural dependencies was
(they thought) exposing the state to great danger. In order to thread
the shoals and brave the storms which threatened the frail bark, there
must be a cordial understanding between all the crew. Several persons
exclaimed with rather an excess of energy: 'If some go to sermon and
others to mass, the republic will go to the devil.'

The work was begun at once. The reformers preached in Geneva; other
ministers preached in the country; heralds of the council went from
village to village making proclamations by sound of trumpet: 'Let there
be no more disobedience!' they said; 'no more gambling! No more
blasphemy!' Still the council did not wish to exercise any constraint
with regard to religion. The inhabitants of Viuz and other villages in
the _mandement_ of Thiez in Faucigny having prayed that they might be
allowed their own way as to church matters, their request was granted.
But the bishop, who was less tolerant, excommunicated the poor people,
because, although catholics, they recognized heretical magistrates. The
syndics undismayed and very positive as to their episcopal capacity,
wrote to the vicars that they would relieve their parishes from the
excommunication and completely absolve them—which greatly comforted the
worthy peasants. When Easter drew near, however, they began to feel
great distress. 'Alas!' they said to the syndics, 'as we have been
excommunicated, we cannot take the sacrament at Easter.' 'We hold you to
be entirely absolved,' answered the reformed magistrates demurely. Upon
which the simple people received the sacrament with great tranquillity
of mind.[740]

[Sidenote: THE STATE AND THE CHURCH.]

These are strange actions. It has been maintained that the church, in
proportion as political society becomes Christian, ought gradually to be
lost in the state. It has been asserted that, at the epoch of the
Reformation, Christianity had completed its ecclesiastical period, and
had entered into the political period. Lastly, some men have added that
to organize the church was a useless labor, a sheer loss of time, an
absolute impossibility, and that presbyteries and synods were but silly
child's play.[741] Was the fact that we have recorded—episcopal
absolution emanating from the council—the first step in this absorption
of the church by the state; and is it true that the Reformation leads to
it? Quite the contrary. By reviving in the Christian conscience the idea
of the kingdom of God; by awakening to life and action the members of
the evangelical congregation, protestantism awoke the church throughout
Christendom. Geneva, owing to the impulse given it by Calvin, became the
place where it was constituted in the most independent and most
scriptural manner. The church must not be lost in the state, and the
state must not be lost in the church, whatever socialists or priests may
say. How can the state survive the church? The state is temporary, the
church immortal.

But the magistrates heroically discharged their episcopal functions to
little purpose; there was great difficulty in maintaining order. The
villages of Vandœuvre and Celigny wished to hear mass and a protestant
sermon every Sunday, while the priests universally demanded the
preservation of the Romish ceremonies. The council felt the necessity of
explaining the posture of affairs, and called together all the
ecclesiastics and proctors of the parishes.[742] On the 3d of April,
1536, the Romanist party was drawn up on one side of the council-room,
and on the other were Farel, with some other ministers, and several
zealous protestants.[743] Claude Savoye, the premier syndic, spoke
against the union of sermons and the mass, which some parishes desired,
and declared that such a medley was by no means agreeable to the
magistracy. He then said to the priests: 'Instead of preventing the
people from living according to the Gospel, why do you not embrace it
yourselves, and give up your mass?' Dom Claude de Puthex, canon of
Satigny, stepped forward and said: 'If our neighbors of Gex change their
mode of life, we will do the same.' This religion of _neighborhood_ was
a surprise to the reformers; and those simple folks reminded them of
sheep who pass where others have gone before, and leap over the hedge as
soon as the foremost of them have shown the way. 'Turn about,
gentlemen,' said Farel, 'instead of continuing your course;' and he
added several 'beautiful remonstrances.' 'Give us a month to study the
Gospel,' answered the canons. After the priests had withdrawn, the
council asked the opinion of Farel and Bonivard. The latter declared
that 'consciences must be enlightened and not forced.' Farel also was of
opinion that the papists ought not to be troubled in their devotions, in
order that they might not be exasperated against the Word; but that they
ought to be brought to the Gospel 'with extreme gentleness.' He
therefore proposed that 'the priests during the required month should
give themselves up exclusively to the inquiry after truth.' When the
ecclesiastics were called in, the syndic informed them that their
request had been granted unanimously; and at the end of the month, they
all declared that they could not prove by the Gospel either the mass,
auricular confession, or other papal ordinances. The brother of Guy
Furbity, who was in the assembly, declared that Farel's exhortation to
the priests was 'sound according to Holy Scripture and to God.'[744] It
is true that this person had a reason for wishing to please the
Genevans.

[Sidenote: GUY FURBITY.]

There remained, however, one thing to be done. They had liberated the
protestant Bonivard, they determined also to set free the Roman-catholic
Furbity, whose release was demanded by his brother William. Guy left his
prison on the 6th of April. He had been condemned (it will be
remembered) to prove his doctrines, or to retract his insulting
language; whereupon he had asked for books, and the council sent him a
Bible. 'A Bible!' he exclaimed, 'they must be laughing at me. How can I
prove my doctrines with the help of a Bible? I should not succeed in a
twelve-month.' He wanted the _Sentences_ of Peter Lombard, the _Summa_
of Thomas Aquinas, and so forth, and they gave him a Bible! 'Magnificent
lords,' he said on the 6th of April, 'I beg your pardon; I said things
that displeased you; I was wrong. I did not know how matters were.
Henceforward I will endeavor to lead a better life, and to preach the
truth better than I have hitherto done.' The council ordered him to be
set at liberty forthwith.[745]

[Sidenote: SEVERITY OF FAREL.]

Farel was more active than ever. He was busy in the city and in the
villages with Roman-catholics and reformed: he was intent on everything
that could elevate the moral and religious condition of the community.
The anarchy and corruption that prevailed in Geneva upon Calvin's
arrival have been exaggerated. The energetic language of the sixteenth
century, interpreted by the delicate critics of our times, has perhaps
contributed to this mistake. Before the Reformation there was beyond all
doubt great corruption among the clergy, and particularly among the
monks. That dissoluteness had also infected individuals and even
families among the citizens; but one feature had distinguished this
people, and especially the councils, during the struggles for political
emancipation, namely, the close union of liberty with legality, that is
to say, with order. The Genevese were always found ready for the
greatest sacrifices—for the sacrifice of their goods, their ease, their
homes, and their lives sooner than lose their independence: now these
are not the manners of an epicurean people. Admiration of the
Reformation period ought not to make us unjust towards the period of
political emancipation. It is true that the reformers, and Calvin
especially, had a hard task with this energetic and restless people, and
that the struggles often proceeded from a want of faith and morality,
which these austere men had remarked in certain citizens. But the
struggles were aggravated by the intervention of the state, to which the
ministers were not averse, and by the temporal punishments inflicted on
those who infringed religious discipline. Perhaps no one in the
sixteenth century perceived more clearly than Calvin the distinction
between the spiritual and the temporal; and yet neither he nor Farel
understood it, and above all did not realize it, to its full extent. 'If
there should be men so insolent and given up to all perversity,' said
Farel to the syndics, 'as only to laugh at being excommunicated, it will
be your business to see whether you will allow such contempt to remain
unpunished.'[746] The haughty republicans who had sacrificed everything
to break down the despotism of the bishop and the duke, were irritated
when they saw another yoke imposed upon them in religious matters. They
had the true sentiment that their consciences ought to be free, and if
attempts had been made to convince them and not to constrain them, the
end proposed would have been more easily attained. For many an age Rome
had forgotten that the weapons of the evangelical warfare _are not
carnal_. Unhappily magistrates and reformers sometimes forgot it also.
It was an error, and the error led to the commission of many faults.

Nevertheless discipline was not the essential characteristic of Farel,
Calvin, and their friends: they were in a special degree men of faith
and of a living faith. In their eyes faith was the one thing needful—the
good thing above all others. They desired that man should be holy and do
good works; but for that, he must believe in the love which God had
shown him in Christ. Faith, according to the reformers, is the presiding
principle of morality. If a man has faith, he is a child of God; if he
has not, he is under the dominion of sin. Moreover Farel did not want a
purely negative reform, which should consist in merely rejecting the
pope; he wanted it to be positive, and to that end it was necessary that
the people should believe in Jesus Christ. Lastly, Farel saw disunion
and disputes in Geneva. In order that the community, the new Church,
should be strong, it ought not to be composed (he thought) of scattered
members, opposed perhaps to one another; it must form a single body, and
glorify God with one voice and one heart. He desired, therefore, that a
public profession of faith in the Gospel should be made at Geneva.

As sovereignty in matters of state belongs to the assembly of all the
citizens, it was supposed with still further reason, that to the same
body, convened according to the ancient customs, belonged the right of
proclaiming the evangelical doctrine. On Friday, the 19th of May, Farel,
accompanied by Antoine Saunier, his old travelling companion in the
valleys, and by the pastor Henri de la Mare, appeared before the
council. 'Most honored lords,' he said, 'it is of great importance for
all the people to live in strict union. To get rid of the quarrels,
jeers, reproaches, and dissensions, which the fretful disposition of our
nation may occasion every day, we must employ mildness; and, further
still, we must manifest our concord. Seeing that there is one only truth
of God, all the people should declare their intention to adhere to it
with one and the same heart.' The council approved of the proposition,
and resolved to call together the council-general for a confession of
faith, on Sunday, the 21st of May. At Augsburg it was the priests and
doctors who had confessed the doctrine; at Geneva, it was to be the
whole nation.[747] The difference between the two reforms is natural.
Democracy ruled in Geneva, and it had become all the dearer to the
citizens from their conviction that if the liberties of nations had been
taken away, the crime lay at the door of the papacy. Calvin has repeated
this more than once. It has been said that the communes, the liberties
of the Middle Ages, issued from the furrow and the shop.[748] From the
_shop_ came specially the liberty of Geneva. The Burgundians who settled
there were traders, and willingly exchanged their arms for merchandise.
Some of the heroes of Geneva, whose devotedness reminds us of ancient
times, sprang from the counter or the factory.

[Sidenote: ROMAN-CATHOLICS IN GENEVA.]

Still an appeal to the people was a bold measure, for there yet existed
among the citizens, and even in the council, many decided adversaries of
reform, and some of them were among the most eminent men. Might not such
an appeal stir up an opposition which would overthrow all that had been
done? The position of the Roman-catholics was most serious. They were
required to conform to the Gospel. Could they do so? Their consciences
forbade them. Were they to refuse, they would disturb the unanimity and
harmony so necessary to the people at that juncture. Pierre Lullin,
almost a septuagenarian, uncle of the haughty huguenot Jean Lullin, was
one of the most fervent catholics in Geneva. Unable to do without the
mass, he had asked, in September 1535, to be allowed to have it
performed by a priest in a chapel of St. Gervais, which was his private
property. Another eminent man, Syndic Balard, had ceased indeed to be a
partisan of the bishop, but he had taken refuge in a catholicism more
spiritual than Lullin's, and yet quite as marked. According to his
views, the Holy Ghost governed the Roman-catholic church, which church,
communicating that spirit to its members, imposed on them the obligation
of finding its doctrines in Scripture. Lullin, Balard, and some others,
had frequent conferences together. The sincere catholics were not the
only persons to be feared; they were supported by Genevans of scant
faith, who cried out against the Reformation, principally because of its
rigid morality. The reformers themselves were not without fear with
regard to many of those who at that time walked with them. There were
men who heard the preachers, but went no farther; they burnt the idols,
but did not reform their lives. 'For faith to be secure, it must be
governed by conscience,' said the theologians, 'otherwise there is
danger that it will be swamped, and that the ship will founder in a
stormy sea.' Were they about to witness a renewal of those tumults which
had so often disturbed the General Councils?[749]

At length the 21st of May arrived—that day at once so longed for and so
feared. The bells rang out cheerfully; Clémence wafted through the air
the words carved on her surface: 'I summon the people. Jesus, Saviour of
men, Son of Mary, salvation of the world! be merciful and propitious to
us!' The good citizens congratulated each other, as they obeyed the
summons, that this day would put an end to innumerable struggles, and
that the city, so long wasted by briers and thorns, would now be covered
by the hand of God with flowers and laurels. The emotion was universal.

[Sidenote: THE QUESTION AND THE ANSWER.]

Besides the mass of the people, the ambassadors of Berne were present in
the church, and among them the chief of the liberating army, Nägueli.
One of the most heroic Genevans and most sincere Christians, the
intrepid Claude Savoye, was president. When he arose to speak, he
reminded them of the flight of the bishop, the arrival of the Gospel in
Geneva, the glorious deliverance granted to the city; and then he added,
in a voice that was heard all down the nave, 'Citizens, do you desire to
live according to the Gospel and the Word of God, as it is preached to
us every day? Do you declare that you will have no more masses, images,
idols, and other papal abuses whatsoever? If any one knows and wishes to
say anything against the doctrine that is preached to us, let him do
so.'

There was a deep silence: all were in expectation. Will not some voice,
friendly to Rome or to the world, protest against reform? The aged and
devout Pierre Lullin, the spiritual catholic Jean Balard, the frivolous
Jean Philippe, the episcopal Malbuisson, Richardet, Ramel, De la Rive,
and others, known for their attachment to Rome, are going, doubtless, to
take up the premier syndic's challenge. The hour is striking; Geneva is
about to decide its future. If it is true that the pope is Christ's
vicar, and as God upon earth, let them say so! Now or never. They wait:
they wait still; not a word disturbs the solemn silence of the people.
No one made opposition. The fact was duly recorded. Then other accents
than those which had been anticipated resounded through the aisles of
the cathedral. Was it the voice of pious syndic Levet, or of one of the
Two Hundred, or of some one in the body of the meeting? The council
registers do not inform us. That voice, speaking in the name of the
united nation, proclaimed: 'We all, with one accord, desire, with God's
help, to live under that holy evangelical law, and according to God's
Word as it is preached to us. We desire to renounce all masses, images,
idols, and other papal ceremonies and abuses, and to live in union with
one another, in obedience to justice.' When the voice ceased, all the
people held up their hands and repeating a unanimous oath, exclaimed:
'We swear it.... We will do so with God's help.... We will!'[750]

The assembly broke up, and the citizens departed, congratulating each
other that the innumerable tyrannies of '_Pharaoh_' and the darkness of
the '_sorcerers_' were to be succeeded by the mild light of Jesus Christ
and the life-giving breath of liberty. Even such huguenots as had
struggled especially for political enfranchisement, raised no discordant
voice. They knew well that if this petty people remained catholic, it
would lose its independence, and infallibly become Savoyard. But others
held higher views: Geneva appeared to them as a fortress which God had
built to save the Gospel. 'God,' said Froment, the oldest of the
Genevese reformers, 'God has selected this strong territory, so
difficult of access, to form a rampart as it were against the pope and
his followers. It is in these rude countries, guarded on the south by
the Savoy mountains and their eternal snows; on the north by the
difficult gorges of the Jura; and on the east by the narrow passes of
the St. Bernard and the Simplon, where our friends, the Valaisans, with
half a score of men can stop an army; it is in this blessed corner of
the earth that God planted His Gospel, surrounding his word with those
gigantic fortresses, in order that the enemy may neither reach it nor
stifle it.' While the citizens thronged the open square, the ministers
went into the pulpit. 'A mighty captain hath led us,' they said; 'let us
put our trust in him alone. He has more power than all the kings of the
earth, and alone he has preserved us from our enemies. The captain is
Jesus Christ, our Saviour, our Redeemer, and our strong tower.'[751]

[Sidenote: MEMORIAL INSCRIPTION.]

Farel and several Genevans asked that some monument should be erected to
recall to future ages the memory of their great deliverance. Did not
Joshua set up twelve stones after he had crossed the Jordan? Farel
composed a Latin inscription, which was carved in letters of gold on
stone and steel. The council and people fixed it over one of the
principal gates of the city and afterwards over the entrance to the
Hôtel-de-Ville, so that every one might read this testimony of a
grateful city.

 QUUM ANNO 1535
 PROFLIGATA ROMANI ANTICHRISTI TYRANNIDE
 ABROGATISQUE EJUS SUPERSTITIONIBUS
 SACRO-SANCTA CHRISTI RELIGIO
 HIC IN SUAM PURITATEM
 ECCLESIA IN MELIOREM ORDINEM
 SINGULARI DEI BENEFICIO REPOSITA
 ET SIMUL PULSATIS FUGATISQUE HOSTIBUS
 URBS IPSA IN SUAM LIBERTATEM
 NON SINE INSIGNI MIRACULO RESTITUTA FUERIT
 SENATUS POPULUSQUE GENEVENSIS
 MONUMENTUM HOC PERPETUÆ CAUSA FIERI
 ATQUE HOC LOCO ERIGI CURAVIT
 QUO SUAM ERGA DEUM GRATITUDINEM
 AD POSTEROS TESTATAM FACERET.[752]

The citizens who had left their homes to embrace the faction of the
bishop and the duke, and to fight against the Reformation, were struck
with the surprising deliverance accorded to Geneva. They became friends
again, and many of them asked permission to return to their country.
Evangelical Geneva was pleased to see those prodigal sons once more
knocking at the door of their father's house, and welcomed them on their
pledging themselves to obey the laws and contribute to the taxes in a
manner proportionate to their means. Some of them, however, were
forbidden to carry either sword or knife, 'except for the purpose of
cutting bread.'—'Let us put an end to all enmities and disorders,' said
the citizens, 'and live together like good friends.'[753] The priests
and monks who had embraced the Reform, were compensated for the stipends
of which they had been deprived. The state desiring to show its
gratitude to Bonivard, paid his debts, made him free of the city, and
gave him the house of the vicar-episcopal, the dignity of a member of
the Two Hundred, and a pension of two hundred and fifty crowns. The
ex-prior of St. Victor married, thus substituting a Christian union for
the ignoble life of a monk.

Evangelical Geneva furnished an example of the feelings engendered by
help from heaven; patience and meekness were displayed towards
everybody. The Genevans had read in Scripture, that 'Charity beareth all
things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things;'
and in this spirit they acted. 'Most honored lords, I cannot go to hear
the sermon,' said the timid Malbuisson, 'because I suffer from the
gout.' This excuse could only be met by a smile, for the gout did not
prevent him from attending the Council; but no one desired to constrain
him. If even the most zealous sought to lead recalcitrants to the
Gospel, they did not insist. They wanted Balard to go to sermon, but he
did not; they wanted him to leave the city, but he remained; they wanted
him to close his warehouse (he was a large ironmonger), and it was no
sooner shut than he reopened it.[754] He continued to be a member of the
Council and discharged all its functions. Girardet de la Rive took his
child a league from the city to have it christened by a priest; and yet
he was re-elected syndic in 1539 and 1543, and in Calvin's time, in
1547, was appointed one of the six commissioners for drawing up the
ordinances of justice. Those terrible huguenots were kindly people at
heart. They desired to give their fellow-citizens time to compare the
old life with the new, the doctrine of the Bible with that of the pope.
The Roman-catholics kept holiday the feast days of the Romish church,
and saw their priests in secret; but gradually their convictions were
modified. As constraint was not applied outwardly, truth acted all the
more inwardly. Those upright men read the Holy Scriptures, and Scripture
shedding a light into their hearts, drew them day by day nearer to the
truth. At last they went to hear sermons like the rest. In the sixteenth
century Geneva was more liberal than people of our day suppose.[755]

[Sidenote: TRANSFORMATION.]

What a transformation had come over the city! The Genevese, those
veteran athletes, laid down their arms at the feet of the Prince of
Peace. The tumultuous city, continually exposed to the brigandage of the
knights, to the nocturnal attacks of the Savoyards, and to internal
dissension, was transformed into a centre of civilization. 'Let us
profit by our liberty,' said Bonivard. 'Let us make good laws and set up
a good government, for, according to the sentiment of the emperor Marcus
Aurelius, empires and great lordships are acquired by brave and valiant
captains, but are kept up by just judges. Messieurs of Geneva, you are
indebted to God for two blessings: one, that your republic has given
birth to liberty; the other, that, on leaving its mother's womb, it
found nurses ready to supply it with such nourishment that if you take
advantage of it your republic will be, if not immortal, which is
impossible, yet it will be of long and vigorous duration.' In fact,
Geneva became at once a free city, a learned city, and an evangelical
city.[756]

Easter Sunday 1536 was one of the high festivals of the renovation of
this little people. Farel, stationed at a humble table, which had
replaced the pompous altar, broke the bread and blessed the cup, while a
calm and solemn crowd drew near the symbols of the body and blood of the
Saviour. 'What a sacrament we had,' he said, 'and what great things the
Lord hath done for us.'[757]

[Sidenote: MINISTERS WANTED.]

But he longed for still greater things. 'I pray that He who hath
increased this little flock beyond all our expectations, may increase it
still more by augmenting our faith.'[758] The reformer was then almost
alone in Geneva. Froment had been summoned to Aigle, and Viret had gone
to Neuchâtel. Farel was sinking under his labors and called loudly for
help. In his opinion the Genevans wanted a new man, some one in his
place. His incessant energy, his somewhat coarse manner, and even the
victories he had gained, had inspired such as were wanting in religion
with prejudices that might injure the cause of the Gospel. Farel was
rather one of those who found societies than of those who organize them;
he was sensible of this, and desired to place in other hands the
definitive establishment of the church in Geneva, in order that he might
go to new scenes where he might gain new victories. He was like one of
those noble war-horses that neigh for the battle.

Where could the man of God be found to complete the work? He was sought
among the ministers, but to no effect. The Reform was liable to perish,
not from want of work, but from want of workmen. 'Alas!' cried Farel,
'where shall we find the preachers we require? I cannot tell.'[759] It
is true that ex-priests and monks frequently offered themselves, but
what workmen they were! One day it was a simpleton without any capacity;
at another, a coward who did not care to undertake a task so full of
peril; one man was immoral; another self-sufficient; a third was
worldly; a fourth altogether monkish. Farel was dismayed. 'You speak to
me of Dennis,' he said, 'but Dennis is a monk from head to foot.'[760]
The reformer had as much trouble in putting these sham fellow-helpers
aside, as in contending with desperate enemies. 'Beware of the tonsure,'
he said to his friends, 'of the tonsure and the tonsured.'[761] 'We want
none of those skimmers[762] of Scripture,' he said, 'who turn to every
wind like weathercocks on the steeples; none of those flatterers of
princes and magistrates, who wish to please them for their bellies'
sake, or through fear of being banished: none of those dissolute monks,
who seek only to please master or mistress. No, no; none of these
mercenaries; for it is to be feared that if we take them to lead the
flocks, we shall enter into a more inextricable labyrinth than that
through which we have passed.'

Not only Geneva but Western Europe required 'a God-fearing pastor,' as
Farel said; a doctor who could explain with learning the teachings of
Holy Scripture; an evangelist who, with eloquence full of life, should
convert souls to Christ; a champion who should fight valiantly against
the doctors of Rome and lead them captive to the truth; and a man of
administrative capacity who could establish order in the churches of
God. The earth had shaken, old buildings had been thrown down. It was
requisite to erect in their place an edifice more conformable with the
original design—one with more air, more light, more warmth. Where could
the man be found who, gifted with wisdom from God like Solomon, should
raise a temple to Him which should manifest his glory? He was sought for
everywhere, perseveringly yet ineffectually. And yet the man whom God
had elected was soon to appear.

[739] The author is unknown, but the poem was in Bonivard's
possession.—See the Mémoires d'Archéologie, iv. p. 271.

[740] Chron. MS. de Roset, liv. iii. ch. 63 to 67.—Registres du Conseil.

[741] 'Vergebene Arbeit, unnütze Zeitverschwendung, elendes
Kinderspiel.'—Rothe, professor at Heidelberg, _Theologische Ethik_, iii.
p. 1017.—Rothe, who has not long been dead, is considered an eminent
theologian in Germany.

[742] Registres du Conseil des 10, 13, 24 et 31 Mars 1536.—MS. de Roset,
liv. iii. ch. 63.

[743] Registres du Conseil du 3 Avril 1536.

[744] Registres du Conseil du 3 Avril 1536.—MS. de Roset, liv. iii.
ch. 63.

[745] Registres du Conseil du 6 Avril 1536.

[746] Mémoire du 16 Janvier 1537.

[747] Registres du Conseil du 19 Mai.

[748] Guizot.

[749] Registres du Conseil des 24 Juillet, 15 Août, 17 Septembre
1536.—Dernier Discours et Œuvres de Calvin.

[750] Registres du Conseil du 21 Mai 1536.—MS. de Roset, liv. iii.
ch. 68.

[751] Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, pp. 166-168, 224.

[752]

 The tyranny of the Roman Antichrist
 Having been overthrown,
 And its superstitions abolished
 In the year 1535,
 The most holy religion of Christ
 Having been restored,
 In its truth and purity,
 And the Church set in good order,
 By a signal favor of God;
 The enemy having been repelled
 And put to flight,
 And the city by a striking miracle
 Restored to liberty;
 The senate and people of Geneva have erected
 And set up this monument,
 In this place,
 As a perpetual memorial,
 To attest to future ages
 Their gratitude to God.

 MS. de Roset, liv. iii. ch. 62.

[753] Registres du Conseil des 11 Avril; 2, 20, 21 Juin 1536; 29 Janvier
1537.—MS. de Roset, liv. iii. ch. 68.

[754] Mémoires de la Société d'Archéologie de Genève, vol. x. p. lxvii.

[755] Mémoires de la Société d'Archéologie de Genève, vol. x.
p. lxvii.—Registres du 4 Septembre 1536.—_La Réforme à Genève_, by the
Abbé Magnin, p. 233.

[756] Froment, _Gestes merveilleux de Genève_, p. 239.—Bonivard,
_Mémoires d'Archéologie_, iv. pp. 285-289.

[757] Farel's _Letters_.

[758] _Ibid._

[759] 'Jubeor evocare undique ministros. Sed unde? Plane ignoro.'—
Farel's _Letters_.

[760] 'Dyonisius totus monachus.'—_Ibid._

[761] 'Rasis sedulo curabis.'—_Ibid._

[762] 'Fleureteurs' (ceux qui effleurent).—Froment, _Gestes merveilleux
de Genève_, p. 237.




 CHAPTER XV.
 CALVIN AT FERRARA.
 (WINTER AND SPRING.)


There was in Italy, as we have said in another place,[763] a city in
which the love of letters flourished, and where the Gospel found a firm
support: that city was Ferrara. It was embellished by a university,
bishop's palace, and cathedral; by the castle of the ancient dukes, the
palace of Este; but its fairest ornament was Renée of France. That
princess, daughter of King Louis XII., wife of the duke of Este, was not
more distinguished by the graces of her mind and her learning, than by
the love of holiness which shone in her, like a divine flame, according
to the testimony of one of the most learned Christians of Italy.[764]
For some time she had turned her attention towards heavenly science and
theological studies, and had attracted successively to Ferrara the most
eminent Christians of Italy—Curione, Occhino, Flaminio, and Peter
Martyr. Two young Frenchmen arrived in their turn some time before the
events we have just described. One was called Charles d'Espeville and
the other Louis de Haulmont. They soon made their arrival known to the
duchess, who was expecting them; and Renée, whose heart had remained
French, was happy to possess in her palace two such distinguished
fellow-countrymen. She knew that they had left their homes on account of
that Gospel of Christ which she herself had learnt to love in the
society of her dear cousin, Margaret of Angoulême, the king's sister.
She lodged them in the Palace del Magistrato, situated in the Piazza del
Duomo, and adjoining the castle.[765]

[Sidenote: RENEE AND CALVIN.]

Louis de Haulmont was an amiable young man, pious but timid, still
undecided as to the road he should take, and the victim of fierce
struggles. His companion, Charles d'Espeville, was a man of humble
appearance: his eyes were lively and piercing, his manner serious and
firm, and everything in him indicated a soul of a different stamp from
that of his friend. Haulmont's true name was Louis du Tillet; he was a
canon and archdeacon of Angoulême; Charles d'Espeville was none other
than John Calvin. As these two Frenchmen were about to sojourn in the
states of a prince, a vassal of the pope, they were compelled (says
Muratori) to appear under a false name and in a costume different from
what they usually wore.[766]

Renée, whose compassionate heart had been so often touched by the
recital of the terrible punishments and victorious faith which animated
the evangelicals, could not look upon one of them who had escaped a
dungeon and the scaffold, without experiencing towards him the feelings
of a mother and a sister. 'She was struck with Calvin's fine genius,'
says a catholic historian,[767] and the perfection with which he spoke
and wrote the French language. She presented her two countrymen to the
duke, as men of letters who had come to visit the brilliant Italy: this
was a better claim to the favor of the grandson of Pope Alexander VI.
than their condition as reformers.

Ferrara presented many subjects of interest to Calvin. The duke of Este
liked to play the Medici: Bernard Tasso, a poet not without imagination,
was secretary to the duchess; and his son, the illustrious author of the
'Jerusalem Delivered,' was soon to fill the court of Ferrara with his
genius, his sorrows, his despair and folly, caused (it is supposed) by
his unhappy passion for the beautiful Leonora, daughter of Renée, and
even to expiate by a seven years' captivity in a madhouse the crime of
having loved a granddaughter of Louis XII. and Lucrezia Borgia. Celio
Calcagnini, canon, poet, orator, mathematician, and antiquary, who
guided in the _land of the Muses_ the footsteps of the youthful Anne of
Este, who afterwards became duchess of Guise, and her friend Olympia
Morata, was then also at the court of Este. A year sooner, the author of
'The Institutes of the Christian Religion' might have met the author of
the 'Orlando Furioso;' but the somewhat discordant individualities of
Calvin and Ariosto were not destined to be found side by side.

It was not the men of learning, however, whom the young theologian had
come to see: it was the duchess herself. That princess, who had already
received in France a few rays of evangelical light, did not yet possess
a sufficient knowledge of Christian truth: she felt this, and was
determined to seek above all things peace with God. She therefore had
frequent interviews with Calvin. Holy Scripture was the subject of their
conversation; the reformer explained to Renée one passage by another,
and the light of heaven beaming from all these passages of Holy Writ,
carried brightness and warmth into the princess's heart. The young
doctor spoke with simplicity and modesty, but at the same time with
affection and decision. 'If I address you, madam,' he said, 'it is not
from rashness or presumption, but pure and true affection to make you
prevail in the Lord. When I consider the pre-eminence in which He has
placed you, I think that, as a person of princely rank, you can advance
the kingdom of Jesus Christ.' But even this consideration was not
necessary to arouse the zeal of the evangelist of Noyon. The princess's
noble character and her love for the Gospel touched him deeply. 'I
observe in you,' he added, 'such fear of God, and such a real desire to
obey Him, that I should consider myself a castaway if I neglected the
opportunity of being useful to you.'[768] Calvin was the most profound
and most earnest commentator of Holy Scripture; and Renée embraced with
her whole heart the truths that he proclaimed, so that the reformer was
able to say to her some time later: 'It has pleased God, madam, to
enlighten you with the truth of His holy Gospel. Let us now confess that
if God has withdrawn us from the depths of darkness, it is in order that
we should follow the light straightforwardly, turning neither to this
side nor to that.'[769] The duchess profited by this advice. 'Calvin,'
says Muratori, 'so infected Renée with his errors that it was never
possible to extract from her heart the poison she had drunk.'[770]

[Sidenote: A CHRISTIAN WALK.]

An open Christian walk was difficult at a court where popery and
worldliness ruled together. Hence Renée felt keenly the need of
directions in harmony with the Word of God; and in her difficulties and
agonies, at the times when she was about to faint, 'as if she was sunk
in water almost over her head,' she had recourse to the evangelical
theologian. Calvin then invited her always to walk 'forwards, in order
that the gifts of God might increase in her.' 'The main point,' as he
wrote to her some time after, 'is that the holy doctrine of our Master
should so transform us in mind and heart, that His glory may shine forth
in us by innocence, integrity, and holiness.'[771]

Some of the most illustrious divines of Roman-catholicism have been, in
France and other countries, the directors of princes; but there was a
great difference between them and the reformer. That practical
evangelist, whom Romish controversialists and others have reproached
with speaking of nothing but doctrines, urged the daughter of Louis XII.
to 'seek after _innocence_, _integrity_, and _holiness_.'

The relations of Calvin with the duchess lasted all his life, and they
were always marked with frankness and respect. Touched with a zeal so
Christian and so pure, she loved and honored him, 'as long as he lived,'
says Theodore Beza, 'as an excellent instrument of the Lord.'[772] Even
when he could no longer hold a pen on account of his extreme weakness,
Calvin, borrowing the hand of his brother, wrote to her; and to her were
addressed the last three French epistles of the reformer.[773]

[Sidenote: THE COUNTESS OF MARENNES.]

The duchess of Ferrara was not the only person whom Calvin called at
that time to a Christian life. 'Many others, especially among those
about her person, were _seduced_,' says Muratori; that is to say,
brought over to evangelical truth.[774] These conversions, probably,
must not be ascribed solely to Calvin: some, like Renée, had already
enjoyed a certain knowledge of the Gospel; others were afterwards
strengthened in their faith; but all received something from the young
reformer. Soon after his arrival at the court of Ferrara, Calvin had
remarked a lady of great intelligence and learning, who was one of its
principal ornaments. This was Anne de Parthenay, first lady of honor to
the duchess, and wife of Antoine de Pons, count of Marennes, first
gentleman to the duke. The countess of Marennes was a great musician,
and often sang in the duchess's apartments, where she was admired for
the beauty of her voice.[775] But Anne busied herself with more serious
labors. Not satisfied with studying the Latin authors, she had a taste
for Greek, and 'intrepidly' translated the poets and prose writers.[776]
That eminent woman did more: she read books of divinity, and even took a
particular pleasure in 'discussing almost every day with the theologians
the matters of which they treated.'[777] She therefore talked with
Calvin on these subjects, and before long the pure and living faith of
the reformer gave a new direction to her soul. Hitherto she had been
somewhat of a 'blue-stocking,' but now she 'ceased to have any
confidence in herself,' and sought in the holy books and in her Saviour
the means of quenching the thirst for knowledge and the divine life
which tormented her. From that hour she became a new creature and a
'good huguenot.' She even won over her husband to the convictions that
were dear to herself, and, so long as the countess lived, the latter
showed himself a great lover of virtue and of truth.[778]

Adjoining the hall of Aurora, where Renée and her court usually
assembled, was a chapel adorned by the pencil of Titian. Until now
Calvin had only spoken in the duchess's apartments, and respect
naturally prevented the servants (according to the historians of the
Roman church) 'from inquiring too curiously into what occurred
there.'[779] But ere long Renée began to think that she ought not to
keep for herself only and a few court favorites the words of life and
light which fell from the lips of the French divine. While listening to
them, she had felt the bitterness of sin and the fear of God's
judgments; but she had at the same time tasted the sweets of pardon and
eternal life. Ought not others to enjoy them also? Should she prevent
those from entering who desired to enter?

Calvin was ready. Renée invited him to preach in Titian's chapel. Had he
not preached in the catholic churches of Noyon, Angoumois, and Poitou?
The duchess threw open the doors of that service to all who desired to
take part in it. The count of Marennes and his wife, the youthful Jean
de Parthenay, seigneur of Soubise and brother to the countess, with
other members of that family, the count of Mirambeau, Anne of
Beauregard, Clement Marot, and Leon Jamet, the ex-clerk of finance, who
had fled from Paris after the affair of the Placards—were all present at
these meetings.

The charms which French people found in a French service might excuse
these assemblies in the eyes of the duke of Este. But they were soon
joined by learned Italians, friends of the Gospel, and among others by
Giovanni Sinapi and his brother, as well as by the pious, sprightly, and
beautiful Francesca Baciro, whom Giovanni Sinapi married two years
later.[780] At this epoch so glorious for Italy, when Curione taught at
Pavia, protected by the admiration of his hearers; when Aonio Paleario
at Sienna glorified Jesus Christ, 'the king of every people;' when
Mollio at Bologna commented on the Epistles of Saint Paul to the great
scandal of the pope; when Juan Valdes, Peter Martyr, and Occhino filled
Naples with the Gospel; when Christ's truth seemed to be gliding even
into Rome itself, a Frenchman, under the patronage of a French princess,
was announcing in Ferrara the same Gospel, but with a voice even more
distinct. What a future for Italy, if Rome had not extinguished these
lights! There was gathered around the preacher a serious and friendly
audience in the chapel of the castle of Ferrara.

Calvin, full of the truths he had just set forth in his _Institutes_,
'put forward that Word of the Lord whose majesty by a holy violence
constrains souls to obey it,' and showed that this 'Gospel, whose
smallness many folks despised, as if it crouched at their feet, so far
surpassed the range of the human mind that the greatest geniuses lift
their eyes in vain, for they can never see the top.'[781]

[Sidenote: ANNE OF BEAUREGARD.]

Among the persons whose heart sought after God was the beautiful Anne of
Beauregard, who, though still very young, had accompanied Renée to
Ferrara. Being betrothed, and all radiant with the joy of her youth, she
was soon to be called to other altars than those of marriage. Falling
ill, she profited by the Word she had heard, and, content with Christ
alone, despised the world. Death cut down that beautiful flower. Renée
regretted her bitterly; all the court wept with her; and Marot, who was
then at Ferrara, wrote these melancholy lines upon her tomb:

  De Beauregard, Anne suis, qui d'enfance,
  Laissai parents, pays, amis et France,
  Pour suivre ici la duchesse Renée;
  Laquelle j'ai depuis abandonnée,
  Futur époux, beauté, fleurissant âge;
  _Pour aller voir au ciel mon héritage_.
  Laissant le monde avec moins de souci
  Que laissai France, alors que vins ici?[782]

The count of Marennes, a man of no decision of character, often attended
Calvin's preaching. He was rather afraid that the duke, his master,
would be displeased; still the duchess herself had arranged these
meetings. The countess, his wife, whose humble servant he was, asked him
to join them; his brother-in-law, Soubise, also invited him; Marennes,
therefore, followed the others to chapel, being urged from without and
not from within.

[Sidenote: ZEAL OF SOUBISE.]

Soubise, on the contrary, an independent man, of noble, decided, and
energetic character, went with his whole heart, and, after Renée, was
the best conquest of the Gospel at Ferrara. In that fanatical age it was
choosing a hard and miserable life; but the Gospel Word had conquered
him, and he was determined to walk among the thorns. 'John of Soubise, a
hero of the sixteenth century,' says Moreri, 'suffered himself to be
perverted at the court of the duke of Ferrara, when Renée of France
received there certain doctors of the pretended reformed religion.'[783]
He had been trained for the profession of arms; he now found at Calvin's
side the sword of the Word of God, and returning into France
courageously 'occupied himself in defending the truths he had
believed.'[784] A gentleman of the king's chamber, a knight of the
Order, having had command of the French army in Italy, a man of great
resources and great service, 'having effected a hundred masterstrokes,'
he was, above all, very zealous for God; and, without neglecting the
important affairs of the kingdom, he sought the salvation of the
humblest tenant on his estates. A good old pastor, Mulot des Ruisseaux,
'impelled by the singular virtue of the lord of that place' (Soubise),
used to leave his house at the approach of night—the only time when
evangelical Christians dared meet together—and visit the adjoining
districts, everywhere teaching the Scriptures. More than once, on
hearing the signal of alarm, he had to hide in the woods and pass the
night there. In a short time a great part of the people had forsaken
mass.[785] Soubise even desired to convert Catherine de Medicis, and
with that view held long conversations with the queen,[786] and the
crafty Italian woman led him to hope for a moment that she was on the
point of turning Protestant. The trouble that he had taken was not
entirely lost. The duchess of Bourbon Montpensier, 'a woman of virile
character and of wisdom beyond her sex,' as De Thou describes her,[787]
being present at Soubise's conversations with Catherine de Medicis,
received the truths which he was explaining to another; and somewhat
later two of that lady's daughters, the duchess of Bouillon and the
princess of Orange, bravely professed the doctrines of the Reformation.

By his only daughter, Catherine of Parthenay, Soubise was grandfather of
the celebrated duke of Rohan.

It was not only among his compatriots at Ferrara that Calvin was a
fisher of men. The traditions of certain families of the peninsula place
several eminent Italians[788] among the number of those who heard and
received light from him. One of them was a Neapolitan nobleman, the duke
of Bevilacqua, then at Ferrara. His ancestors, who descended from the
Boileaux, barons of Castelnau, a family which in France has produced
many distinguished men, were of Languedocian origin, and had been
compelled by the persecutions directed against the Vaudois and
Albigenses in the thirteenth century to take refuge in the kingdom of
Naples.[789] Bevilacqua discovered at Ferrara, in Calvin's teaching, the
truth for which his forefathers had been compelled to leave France.

Another Italian, more eminent still, who used to attend these
evangelical assemblies, was Titian, then about the age of fifty-eight.
That great painter, who had decorated the castle of duke Alphonso of
Este, was again at Ferrara. Possessing a calm, solid, judicious, and
truth-loving mind, devoted to nature, and seeking to represent her in
all her truth, Titian was naturally struck with the pure and living
religion which Calvin preached. The great artist was no stranger to the
deep affections of the soul, and the sublimest heroism in his eyes was
the devotedness of the Christians, who sacrificed their lives for their
faith. There are no scenes more terrible and pathetic than those
represented in his pictures of martyrs. Nurtured with the writings of
Dante, Petrarch, and other great men of Italy, who had shown themselves
opposed to the abuses of the popes and their adherents, Titian could
applaud the opposition led by the young Frenchman against the papacy.
But if at that time he greeted evangelical truths with admiration, there
is no evidence that they sank very deeply into his heart. It would
appear that Bevilacqua asked him to paint Calvin's portrait; but however
that may be, the portrait still exists in the palace of the duke of
Bevilacqua at Naples.[790] There is no indication that Titian preserved
the impressions he received at Ferrara. 'Among those who seem touched by
the beauty of the Gospel,' says Calvin, 'there is scarcely one out of
ten in whose heart the Word of God is not stifled.' Titian was, no
doubt, an instance of the truth of the fact indicated by the Reformer.

[Sidenote: THE WORD STIFLED BY THE WORLD.]

Calvin had been a faithful and active workman in his Master's vineyard,
yet he did not always meet with friendly and docile hearers, even in
Ferrara. Among the persons forming the duchess's court, he had noticed a
cringing person with insinuating manners, whose look and expression
displeased him greatly. That man, by name Master François, chaplain to
Renée was one of those double-hearted people who wish to satisfy God and
their own cupidity. Calvin had heard that the life of that priest was
far from saintly. 'I do not interfere,' he answered, when called upon to
declare his opinion as to the chaplain's superstitious doctrines—'I do
not interfere, for if I laid myself out to speak evil of him, I should
have to speak of far different matters, on which I remain silent.'
Master François, seeing the favor which the young stranger enjoyed at
court, assumed an air of being convinced by his words, appeared to
become his friend, and began to preach as evangelically as he could. He
raised no objections to Calvin's meetings, but prevailed on the duchess
to be present at mass also, which he continued to say, notwithstanding
his evangelical appearances. Such a man could not please the upright and
inflexible reformer. 'When I see any one extinguishing the light of
truth,' he wrote one day to Renée, 'I cannot forgive him, were he a
hundred times my father.'[791]

Calvin tried, therefore, to convince François that the celebration of
what he called 'the sacrifice at the altar' was contrary to Holy
Scripture. Whenever the chaplain went astray the reformer admonished
him. 'I have often tried to bring him into the true path,' he said. The
priest would then appear sorrowful, and ashamed of his weakness, and
Calvin, pressing him still more closely, would succeed in 'making him
confess his iniquity.' But human respect still prevailed in François,
and if any one about the court happened to be present at his
conversations with the reformer, he would make excuses for himself
before them.

[Sidenote: THE CHAPLAIN AND THE INSTITUTES.]

One day, finding his discourses useless, Calvin determined to present
him with 'a treatise of his;'[792] that is all he says. He does not
mention the title of this work; but as it cannot have been either his
commentary on Seneca's _De Clementiâ_ or the _Psychopannichia_, it was
evidently the _Institutes of the Christian Religion_, which he had just
printed at Basle—these three works being at that time all the reformer
had written. Even on the supposition that Calvin had left Basle before
the actual publication of his book, it would have been very natural for
him to take a copy with him when starting for Italy. Master François
opened that volume, which, by God's grace, has imprinted indelible
convictions in so many minds. This is the first notice we have of the
reading of the _Institutes_: it is mentioned by Calvin himself, and took
place during his Italian journey, in the castle of Lucrezia Borgia's
son. These circumstances impart to it a peculiar interest. François
probably did not read the whole treatise. The mass was the subject of
difference between him and Calvin, and consequently it was that part of
his work to which the latter referred him. There was much in it
calculated to disturb the chaplain. 'Christ,' said the treatise, 'being
immortal, has been appointed by God everlasting priest; he has no need
then for others to succeed him. Now do not those priests who offer
sacrifice every day put themselves in Christ's place, and rob him of the
prerogative of his eternal sacrifice?'[793] Further on he adds: 'The
mass being established in such a manner that a hundred thousand
sacrifices are offered up daily, swamps and buries the sacrifice of
Christ which was offered as _sole_ sacrifice. To set up an altar now is
to pull down the cross of Jesus Christ. The mass blots out of the
remembrance of men the Saviour's true and only death.' And still further
on the chaplain read: 'The mass robs us of the fruits which resulted to
us from the death of Christ; for who will believe himself redeemed by
that death, when a new redemption is presented to him in the mass?'
Other considerations put forward by Calvin in his book, were equally
calculated to convince the priest.

Calvin who was not deficient in classical recollections and who
anticipated a second Iliad in which the princes of the earth would
meet—some to retain the mass, others to remove it—compares it, in
conclusion, to that woman of antiquity, so notorious by the impure
passions and the cruel war she stirred up. 'Assuredly,' he exclaimed,
'Satan never constructed a stronger machine to attack the kingdom of
Jesus Christ. Behold that Helen under whose eyes the enemies of the
truth are fighting with so much rage, with whom they commit adultery,
and plunge into a spiritual impurity which is the most detestable of
all.' He then draws up and displays the long catalogue of 'great and
serious abuses' which the mass has engendered, namely, disgraceful
markets, illicit and dishonest gains, great extortions—all kinds of
impurity, idolatry, sacrilege, and other 'consequences' that we omit.

[Sidenote: CALVIN AND FRANCOIS.]

The priest was greatly agitated. The beauty of the language, the
clearness of style, the energy of expression, the powerful logic, the
strength of affection, the rapidity and seriousness of the reproaches,
the accusations and recriminations which fell upon his soul, like
hailstones in a storm, and above all the idea that the mass robbed
Christ of his cross and his crown, and insulted his divinity, alarmed
François who had imagined nothing of the sort. He was 'convinced in his
conscience;' he thought himself really guilty and exposed to great
danger, while his anguish increased more and more. He hastened to the
reformer, and there (says Calvin), 'he protested with strong oaths he
would never assist at the mass, it being so great an abomination.'[794]
The chaplain's emotion was sincere, only it was not permanent. He soon
relapsed into his habitual condition, and recommenced preaching the word
of God 'solely because he thought he might thus catch benefices and
other prey.' At a later period Calvin wrote of him: 'Madam, I know my
man so well that I do not value his oath more than the chattering of a
magpie. If persons who can raise him to dignities, or are rich enough to
fill his wallet, ask him to give glory to God, he will take pains to
gratify them; but if any persecution should come, he will be quite ready
to renounce the Gospel. He plays different parts at different times. It
is not the duty of a Christian to speak ill of his neighbor, but there
is no one with whom I wage such fierce war as with those who, under the
cloak of the Gospel, play the hypocrite with princes, and by their
cunning and tricks keep them always enveloped in clouds, without leading
them to the true goal.[795] This man,' he said, 'is convinced in his
conscience, and yet he continues doing what he acknowledges to be
wrong.' He added: 'All the hatred which I have shown him hitherto is,
that I have endeavored with all my power to edify him in what is
right.'[796] Such were the struggles which the valiant champion of the
Gospel had to maintain in the palace of the dukes of Este.

One of the duchess's ladies—her name is not known—who had found peace
with God in the Saviour's death, refused to be present at mass. François
attempted to convince her, but the young lady remained firm as a rock.
'She would not offend her conscience.' The angry priest complained to
the duchess and did all in his power to deprive the young maid of honor
of the kindly feeling which Renée was accustomed to show towards her.
Before long the duchess herself was 'warned,' that those who 'conducted
themselves like that young lady' would not be tolerated, seeing that
they would give occasion for scandal. The princess, knowing full well
that the duke would not permit any one at court to reject the mass, was
in great distress, and Calvin was informed of it by the countess of
Marennes.[797] The enemies of the Reformation added falsehood to
violence. The confessor tried to make the duchess believe that the
churches of Germany had not discussed the matter, but that they admitted
the mass. Calvin complained loudly of the great injury done to the
churches of God. 'All the churches that have received the Gospel,' he
wrote a little later, 'and even all individuals hold this article—that
the mass ought not to be endured. Even Capito, one of those who
endeavors earnestly to _moderate_ matters, teaches in a work dedicated
to the king of England, that it is the duty of Christian princes to
drive from their realms such a detestable idolatry. There is now not a
single man of reputation who is not of that opinion.'[798]

[Sidenote: CALVIN WRITES TO DUCHEMIN.]

During his residence at Ferrara, Calvin was not satisfied with combating
the errors of those who surrounded him: he did not forget France, to
which his heart was always attached; and he watched, although from afar,
the friends he had left there. The superstitions of Italy and the
profane spirit displayed by the priests in the midst of their relics and
empty ceremonies, produced the same effect upon him as upon Luther, and
made him all the more desirous to see his fellow-countrymen withdraw
from the authority of the pope. He was therefore deeply moved by the
news which reached him at this time. Nicholas Duchemin, with whom he had
lived at Orleans, whose character he esteemed, and of whom he had said,
'that he was dearer to him than his life,' had been appointed official
or ecclesiastical judge, which brought him into close relations with the
Roman clergy and worship. Calvin was alarmed and sent him a letter
which, revised and enlarged, was published under this title: _How we
must avoid the papal ceremonies and superstitions, and observe the
Christian religion with purity_.[799] 'I do not mean,' said Calvin to
his friend, 'that you should make a conscience of things which it is not
in your power to escape, and with regard to which you should be free. I
do not forbid your entering the temples which surround you, although
numberless examples of impiety are witnessed in them daily. Although the
images are consecrated to detestable sacrileges, I do not forbid you to
look at them. It would not even be in your power, for the streets are
full of a multitude of idols. But have a care lest a too great license
should make you overstep the bounds of liberty.'[800]

Duchemin was very sensible of the danger, and wishing to be at the same
time faithful to the Gospel, and to preserve an advantageous
appointment, had put this question to Calvin: 'How can I keep myself
pure among the pollutions of Babylon?' Calvin showed him, as he had
shown François, that the mass was the most dangerous enemy.

'Do not believe,' he said, 'in that conjuror who approaches the altar
and begins to play his tricks, now turning this side, now that; at one
time resting motionless, at another muttering his magic murmurs, by
means of which he pretends to draw Christ down from heaven to make
reconciliation between God and man, and thus substitute himself for the
Saviour dead and raised again.'[801]

The more Calvin reflected on Duchemin's position the more it alarmed
him. He thought himself on the point of losing one of the earliest
objects of his tender affection. A few moments longer on the verge of
the abyss and his friend would fall into it. He called to him with all
his strength and with a cry of anguish. 'I feel very great regret for
your condition,' he said. 'I am sorry that you are not permitted to
extricate yourself from that Egypt where so many monsters are always
before you. A man thinks to himself that it is of no great importance to
trifle a little in order to preserve the favor of the people, and to
take part with others in wicked ceremonies. Then one foot is placed a
little further on, and thus declining gradually, he falls from the
straight path, and is precipitated to ruin and perdition. Let us be
careful never to recede, even a nail's breadth, from the obedience due
to our heavenly Father. Awake, then, awake, most virtuous man! Display
in your actions such piety, goodness, charity, chastity, and innocence,
that the superstitious, even while vexed that you are not like them, may
be constrained to confess, whether they will or not, that you are the
servant of God.'[802]

[Sidenote: CALVIN'S APPEAL TO ROUSSEL.]

It was not long before the Reformer received still more distressing
news. It was not merely a disciple, it was a teacher who grieved him.
One of the men whom he esteemed the most was not only exposed to peril,
but had succumbed. Calvin learnt that, on the death of Pierre d'Albret,
bishop of Oleron, Queen Margaret of Navarre, who was falling away from
evangelical simplicity, had sent to Rome to beg the vacant see for
Roussel; and that, after some difficulty, the court of the Vatican had
granted the favor. Roussel a bishop, and by favor of the pope! Calvin
was amazed. People wrote to him that the appointment had been celebrated
by the poets of Bearne, and that Roussel was overwhelmed with
congratulations; and Calvin wondered whether his friend, amid the
seducing songs of the sirens, would lend an ear to his warnings. He
determined, however, to give utterance to the solemn voice of
faithfulness. The stern language he addressed to the new bishop shows
us, more clearly than the cleverest portrait, the great decision of his
soul.

'It will seem to you that I dream,' he wrote to Roussel, 'if alone among
the multitude of those who flatter you, I come to disturb the
rejoicings. And yet, if you suffer yourself in the least degree to be
cozened by such prettinesses, they will lead you into a heavy and
dangerous forgetfulness. Those who have once drunk, be it but a little
drop, of that cup of the Roman table, are intoxicated and
bewitched.'[803]

Calvin pictured to himself the magnificent state of his friend, the
great splendor, the grand appearance, the mitre, crosier, mantle and
ring, and all the rest of the paraphernalia with which he was bedizened;
the riches, the pomp displayed in his household, the long train of
servants, the dainty table, and a thousand other forms of luxury and
superfluity, and exclaimed: 'Now that you have become the favorite of
fortune, remember that He who appointed bishops (that is, God) wills
that, while the people sleep, they should be in a watch-tower on a hill,
casting their eyes on all around them, and that their voice should be
like the sound of a trumpet. With what faithfulness do you labor to
raise up that which has fallen? True religion is defamed, mocked at,
trodden under foot, and even entirely ruined; the poor people are
deceived, abused, plundered by a thousand frauds, and led to slaughter ...
and all that is done before your eyes! You not only let these things
pass, but there is hardly any impiety in your diocese which you do not
sanction by your seal!

'What ought to be done with one who, like you, deserts his captain,
passes over to the enemy, and damages the camp in whose defence he had
sworn to employ his life?

'Blow the trumpet, watchman! Arm thyself, shepherd! Why waitest thou? Of
what art thou thinking? Is this a time for sleep? What! a murderer,
guilty of shedding blood, every drop of which the Lord will require of
thee again! And thou art not afraid?[804]

'O Rome, Rome! how many good people thou corruptest who otherwise were
not ill-born? How many among those already corrupted whom thou makest
worse daily? How many of those whom thou hast debauched, whom thou
plungest into eternal perdition?[805]

'O my dear Roussel, come out of that slough as soon as possible, for
fear lest while lingering in it you should sink deeper and deeper into
the mire.[806]

'You will say, I know: "What then will become of us poor wretches? Must
we, who live at our ease, go into foreign lands, like needy vagabonds?
Must we, who always have our pantry and cellar full, without any toil,
live upon coarse fare procured by the sweat of our brows and the labor
of our hands?"[807]

'If you find such a life strange, you are not a true Christian. It is
very hard, I confess, to leave one's birthplace to be a wanderer and a
stranger. And yet the Lord, who is a marvellous worker, contrives that
this poverty, so bitter in the opinion of men, is made pleasing to them,
and that, tempered with a heavenly sweetness, it procures them especial
pleasure.'

Thus the young man of twenty-seven was already a teacher abounding in
energy and good sense. These two letters, which (according to the most
trustworthy evidence) were written at Ferrara, would of themselves be
sufficient to mark his residence in that city with a special character.
It was then he began to appear, to speak, and to lead with the authority
of a reformer. In him God gave His church a teacher gifted with that
indomitable firmness which, notwithstanding all obstacles and all
seductions, is able to break with error and to uphold the truth. At the
same time He gave a man whose activity was not to be limited to the
place where he lived, but whose wide spirit would embrace all
Christendom, and who would be able to send into France, the Low
Countries, England, Poland, and wherever it became necessary, the words
of wisdom and of faith.

Calvin taught not only by his words but by his example. He might have
been able, by softening down some expressions in the Gospel, to remain
in the palace of the dukes of Este, and to enjoy the favor of princes.
But if he required fidelity and renunciation in Roussel, he first
possessed them himself. He made the sacrifices to which he invited
others, and was ready to exchange the pleasures and brilliancy of a
court for the horrors of a prison, or of a flight environed with danger.
Calvin remained firm, as 'seeing Him who is invisible,' and preferred to
be afflicted with the people of God rather than have a part in the joys
of the great ones of the earth. This spirit of self-denial characterized
him to the last. The friend of princes, the councillor of kings, he
lived humbly, having scarcely the means of supplying the ordinary wants
of life.

[Sidenote: CALVIN'S INFLUENCE IN ITALY.]

It is said that Calvin visited Padua, Venice, and even Rome; but it does
not appear that history can accept this tradition. It is probable that
all the time he spent beyond the Alps was passed near the Duchess Renée.
His influence, however, extended beyond the palaces and the principality
of the dukes of Este. One of the men who may be considered the best
judges, one of the literary historians of the peninsula, the jesuit
Tiraboschi, declares that Calvin's sojourn at the court of Ferrara was
more injurious to Italy than all the soldiers, active disciples of
Luther, who propagated his doctrines there.[808] And yet Calvin scarcely
quitted Ferrara. Just when the star of Ariosto, which had shone over
that city, had set, and when that of Tasso was about to appear, the star
of Calvin shone there with a purer light than that of the bard of
Orlando or of Godfrey. But the faithful Christian could not long remain
in the bosom of worldliness and popery without suffering from their
violent attacks. Calvin's sojourn was about to end in a tragic and
unexpected manner.

[763] See Vol. IV. bk. vii. ch. 18.

[764] 'Sic versari in _studiis nostris, ut excellat_. . . . Sed ob
magnitudinem ingenii et studium sanctitatis quæ in ista semper veluti
divinum aliquid eluxit, retulit se ad _cœlestes artes_ et ad
_disciplinas theologicas_.'—Paleario, _Epp._ iv. 4.

[765] A. Frizzi, _Guida per la città di Ferrara_, p. 43.—Bonnet, _Calvin
à la cité d'Aoste_.

[766] 'Sotto abito finto.'—Muratori, _Annali d'Italia_, xiv. p. 305.

[767] Varillas.

[768] A madame la duchesse de Ferrare.—_Lettres françaises de Calvin_,
i. p. 44. There is no date to this letter, and it may possibly belong to
the following year, 1537. At page 154, Calvin refers to a book that
Capito had written '_naguères_,' not long ago, and that work, _De
Missa_, dedicated to Henry VIII., bears the date of 15 March 1537.

[769] 'Sans décliner ni de çà ni de là.'

[770] 'Talmente infetto Renea degli errori sui, che non si potè mal
trarle di cuore il bevuto veleno.'—Muratori, _Annali d'Italia_, xiv.
p. 305.

[771] Letter of 1537 addressed to Renée, duchess of Ferrara.

[772] Beza, _Vita Calvini_, p. 21.

[773] See the Letters dated the 8th and 24th January and the 4th April
1564, in Mons. J. Bonnet's _Recueil_. Calvin died on the following 4th
May.

[774] 'Poichè non solo confermò nell' errore la duchessa Renata, ma più
altri ancora sedusse.'—Muratori, _Antichità Estensi_, ii. ch. xiii.

[775] 'Quali venustate canas.'—Gyraldus, _Epistola dedicatoria, Hist.
Poetarum_.

[776] 'Ut Græcos autores intrepide evolvas.'—_Ibid._

[777] Bayle, _Dictionary_, sub voce _Anne de Parthenay_, iii. p. 600.

[778] Beza, _Hist. ecclés._ i. p. 127.

[779] Maimbourg, _Hist. du Calvinisme_, p. 62.

[780] Jules Bonnet, _Olympia Morata_, p. 43.

[781] Calvin, _passim_.

[782] Œuvres de Marot.

[783] Moreri, _Grand Dictionnaire historique_, vi. p. 317.

[784] Bayle, _Dictionnaire hist. et crit._ iv. p. 142.

[785] Beza, _Hist. des Eglises réformées_, i. p. 127.

[786] Bayle, _Dictionnaire_, iv. p. 142.

[787] Thuanus, lib. xxviii.

[788] See the _Bulletin de la Société de l'Histoire du Protestantisme
français_, Paris, 1860, p. 168.—Documents historiques inédits et
originaux, communiqués par M. de Triqueti.

[789] _Histoire de l'Inquisition en France_, par De la Mothe, vol. ii.
pp. 538, 603, &c.—_Bevilacqua_ is _Boileau_ translated into Italian.
Some of the _Drinkwaters_ and _Boileaus_ of England claim to belong to
the same family.

[790] In the _Bulletin du Protestantisme français_ for 1860, p. 170, we
read:—'About the year 1840 the duke of Bevilacqua showed to Sir John
Boileau the portrait of Calvin, painted by Titian on this occasion, and
offered him a copy of it. I have had many opportunities of seeing it at
London in Sir John's house.' M. de Triqueti, whose words we have just
quoted, speaks of another portrait of Calvin painted by Titian,
purchased in 1860, at a public sale in Paris. We ourselves have seen in
one of the Italian picture galleries a portrait of Calvin also assigned
to Titian. There is one in the public library of Geneva, and several are
to be found in various Italian museums (Stählin: _Johannes Calvin_, ii.
p. 7); but these are rather pictures painted by Titian's pupils and
touched up by the master, as was the custom of the teacher and his
students in those days.

[791] Letter to the duchess of Ferrara, in the _Lettres françaises de
Calvin_, i. p. 47.

[792] 'Un sien traité.'—_Ibid._ i. p. 48.

[793] Calvin in the _editio princeps_ (March 1536) of his _Institutes_
treats of the Lord's Supper at pages 236-284.

[794] A la duchesse de Ferrare.—_Lettres françaises de Calvin_, i. p.
48.

[795] A la duchesse de Ferrare.—_Lettres françaises de Calvin_,
pp. 47, 48.

[796] _Ibid._—The letter to the duchess of Ferrara was written later;
but what we have quoted above refers to Calvin's sojourn at Ferrara,
when he had these conversations with Master François.

[797] A la duchesse de Ferrare.—_Lettres françaises de Calvin_,
i. p. 45.

[798] A la duchesse de Ferrare.—_Lettres françaises de Calvin_, p. 54.

[799] 'Comment il faut éviter,' &c. Des Gallars, Calvin's friend, says
in his edition of the reformer's _Opuscules_ (1552), 'Epistolas duas
edidit, quas de hâc re ad quosdam amicos _ex Italia_ scripserat.' The
latest editors of Calvin's works say in the prolegomena to vol. v.
(Brunswick, 1866): 'Eas _in itinere Italico_, anno 1536, suscepto,
Calvinum scripsisse dicit Colladonius.' Colladon was one of the
reformer's intimate friends. The first of these writings contains (in
the French edition) 38 pages folio, and the second 35.

[800] Calvin, _Opuscules français_ (1566), p. 82.

[801] _Ibid._ pp. 58, 62, 64, 73, 74, 84, &c.

[802] Calvin, _Opuscules français_ (1566), pp. 58, 59, 84, 92.

[803] _Quel est l'office de l'homme chrétien en administrant ou rejetant
les bénédictions de l'Eglise papale?_ Jean Calvin à un ancien ami à
présent prélat.—_Opuscules français_, pp. 36, 37.

[804] _Opuscules français_, p. 108.

[805] _Ibid._ p. 124.

[806] _Ibid._ p. 128.

[807] _Ibid._ p. 129.

[808] 'Più dannoso all' Italia fu il soggiorno che, per qualche tempo,
fece occultamente Calvino, sotto il nome di Carlo d'Heppeville, alla
corte di Ferrara, circa il 1535.'—Tiraboschi, _Hist. de la Litt. ital._
vii. p. 358.




 CHAPTER XVI.
 CALVIN'S FLIGHT.
 (SPRING, 1536.)


Duke Hercules of Este had remarked that certain changes had taken place
since the arrival of the Frenchman. Calvin's discussion with François
the chaplain could not be kept secret. Borgia's grandson knew that the
pope, under the pretence of heresy, might deprive him of his states;
already his father, Duke Alphonso, through being on bad terms with Rome,
had passed many years in exile. The Inquisition had a tribunal at
Ferrara, and what was going on at court was more than enough to alarm
it. A report had been made to the pope; Charles V. had been informed;
and Paul III. proposed a treaty to the duke, in which there was a secret
article stipulating the removal of all the French then at Ferrara; but
there was one among them for whom a severer fate was reserved. The duke,
retracting the indulgence he had conceded to his wife, declared that he
was resolved to put an end to the schismatic intrigues of which the
court was the theatre; that the count and countess of Marennes, Soubise,
the other gentleman, and even Marot, must quit his states; 'and as for
M. d'Espeville,' he added, 'know, madam, that if he is discovered, he
will forthwith be dragged to punishment on account of religion.'[809]

[Sidenote: TRIALS OF RENEE.]

This order was like a thunderstroke to Renée. Called to leave the land
of her ancestors, she had created a little France at Ferrara; and now,
all who gave her any comfort in her exile were about to be torn from
her. Rome would deprive her of that pious and learned teacher who had
given her such good counsel; perhaps he would expiate on an Italian
scaffold the crime of having proclaimed the Gospel. All the lords and
ladies of the court, and even the satirical Marot, were to leave
Ferrara. Leon Jamet seems to have been the only Frenchman permitted to
stay; the duchess, who required a secretary, had obtained her husband's
permission for this ex-clerk of the treasury to remain with her in that
character. Thus the daughter of Louis XII., after the bright days she
had enjoyed, was condemned to remain almost alone in her palace, as in a
gloomy chamber; her slightest movements were watched; she was tormented
by priests whom she despised, and exposed by the grandson of Borgia to
unjust harshness. Marot, touched by so many misfortunes, and knowing the
part which the queen of Navarre, Renée's cousin, would take in this
great trial, addressed her in these touching lines:

  Ah! Marguerite, écoute la souffrance
  Du noble cœur de Renée de France;
  Puis comme cœur, plus fort en espérance,
        Console-la.

  Tu sais comment hors son pays alla,
  Et que parents et amis laissa là;
  Mais tu sais quel traitement elle a
        En terre étrange![810]

Renée was to suffer a pain still greater than that caused by the
dismissal 'beyond the mountains' of her friends from France. That
iniquitous institution, decorated with the name of the _Holy Office_,
which was destined a little later to make thousands of martyrs in Spain,
the Netherlands, and other countries, desired for the moment to strike
the teacher who had excited the greatest terror and hatred at Rome. The
Inquisition had discovered Calvin's residence. His name and his _crime_
were inscribed in the black-book of that cruel institution.[811] Heresy
was flourishing at the court of Este; the chief culprit was pointed out,
and if the others were allowed to depart, he at least must be punished.

[Sidenote: CALVIN'S ARREST.]

Calvin, forewarned of what was going on, was at the palace Del
Magistrato, where he and Du Tillet lived, and was hurriedly getting
ready for his departure, when the agents of the inquisitors, who were on
the watch, arrived, seized the 'pestiferous disturber,' and dragged him
away a prisoner.[812] It was not their intention to leave him in a place
where the evangelical doctor possessed many influential friends. They
determined to have him tried at Bologna, a city in the States of the
Pope, not far distant from Ferrara, where they would be entirely the
masters. The young Frenchman was therefore placed in the charge of some
familiars of the Holy Office, and guarded by them was to proceed to that
ancient city which boasted of possessing within its walls the ashes of
St. Dominick, the founder of the Inquisition.

Calvin began the journey, surrounded by the men appointed to conduct
him. He might then have said of himself, as he afterwards said of
another: 'Although he hopes still, he is assailed by a hundred deaths,
so that there is not an opening, be it ever so small, for escape.'[813]
The tribunal of the Inquisition, which was never tender, would certainly
not be so towards a heretic of this kind. The squadron which had him in
charge, turning towards the south, crossed a fertile country and
proceeded without obstacle towards the city of Bologna.[814] They had
already gone more than halfway, when some armed men suddenly made their
appearance.[815] They stopped the escort, and ordered them to release
their prisoner. We do not know whether there was any resistance; but
this much is certain, that the inquisitors, little accustomed to yield,
saw the doctor taken from them whom they were conducting to certain
death. Calvin was set at liberty[816] and strained every nerve to get
out of Italy.

His sojourn in that country, as we read of it in authentic documents, is
far from being a blank page, as some have supposed. The last event that
we have mentioned, according to Muratori, has even a particular
interest. It reminds us of a well-known circumstance in the history of
the German reformation, when Luther, returning from Worms, was carried
off by horsemen masked and armed from head to foot. But Calvin's case
was more serious than that of the Saxon reformer, who was taken to a
castle belonging to friends, beyond the reach of danger; while Calvin
was left alone, almost in the middle of Italy, and forced to make his
way through a hostile country, where he ran the risk of being arrested
again.

It has been asked who snatched this choice prey from the tribunals of
Rome, and even in the states of the pope; whence did the blow
proceed?[817] It was bold and rash; it exposed its contrivers and agents
to great danger, for the papacy and the Inquisition were all-powerful in
Italy. A strong affection, a great respect for the reformer, and
boundless devotion to the cause of truth, can alone account for such an
audacious adventure. One person only in the Italian peninsula was
capable of contriving it and of carrying it out, and that was—is it
necessary to say?—the daughter of Louis XII. Everybody ascribed the
reformer's liberation to her. It might be expected that the Inquisition,
always so suspicious and severe, would be implacable in its vengeance.
Renée escaped, at least for the moment. It is possible that Hercules of
Este exerted his influence at the pontifical court to hush up the
affair, and promised to keep the duchess closer in future. He kept his
word but too well.

Calvin did not hesitate to take advantage of this rescue; but from that
moment we have no sufficient data about him or his route. To find any
traces of him, we must examine local traditions, which ought not to be
despised, but which do not supply us with historical certainty. It was
natural—the map indicates it—that the fugitive should turn his steps in
the direction of Modena. In the environs of that city there lived a
celebrated man of letters, Ludovico Castelvetro, who was suspected of
heresy. He was an esteemed critic and skilful translator; he had
rendered into Italian one of Melanchthon's writings, and when he quitted
Italy many years after this, he passed through Geneva, where he visited
some friends. When the ancient villa of Castelvetro was pulled down in
the first half of this century, the workmen discovered a sealed chest,
which contained the earliest editions of Calvin's works in marvellous
preservation.[818] The reformer had no doubt heard this scholar
mentioned at the court of Ferrara; but there is nothing to prove that he
sought a temporary asylum under the roof of Melanchthon's translator,
who does not appear to have made at that time a frank profession of the
Gospel.[819]

[Sidenote: CALVIN'S ROUTE.]

Tradition relates that Calvin, instead of going northwards towards
Switzerland, skirted the Apennines, turned to the west, and reached the
Val di Grana, between Saluzzo and Coni, where he preached. It is
affirmed that the priests of the village of Carigliano so excited the
women of the parish, that with savage cries they stoned the Frenchman
out of the place. It is added that Calvin went thence to Saluzzo, and
preached there, but with as little success.[820] In our opinion, these
traditions are not sufficiently corroborated to deserve a place in
history. It seems more likely that Calvin took the shortest road to
Switzerland and made for the St. Bernard pass. If he had possessed
leisure for evangelical excursions, he might no doubt have gone to the
Waldensian valleys, which his cousin Olivetan had visited, and where the
latter had conceived the project of translating the Bible, at which he
himself also labored and was still to labor. But there is no indication
of his having ever visited those mountains. He arrived at the city of
Aosta.

[Sidenote: THE CITY OF AOSTA.]

The first gleams of the Word of God were beginning, as we have said, to
enlighten that cisalpine region which lies at the foot of the St.
Bernard, Mont Blanc, and Mont Rosa. Aosta, founded by Augustus, after
whom it was named, had received an evangelical impulse from Switzerland.
The Bernese had thought that if the Divine Word crossing the St. Gothard
had made conquests near the banks of the Ticino, it might make others in
the valley of Aosta by crossing the St. Bernard. Italian, Bernese, and
Genevan documents all bear witness alike to the religious fermentation
then prevailing in that city. 'The Gospel is spreading beyond the
mountains,' wrote Porral, the envoy of Geneva at Berne, 'and it must go
forward in despite of princes, for it is from God.' Ere long the Roman
hierarchy made use of their customary weapons against those who embraced
the Reform, and Porral announced that the Aostans had 'serious questions
with their bishop, on account of the _excommunications_, which they
could not bear.'[821] We have told how the Bernese plenipotentiaries
went to Aosta in November 1535, to confer with the duke of Savoy. They
pleaded there in favor of Geneva, and demanded the liberation of
Saunier, then a prisoner at Pignerol.[822] They talked with everybody
they met about the great questions then under discussion, and invited
them to receive the teaching of Holy Scripture. Some dwellers in the
valley, both among the nobility and burghers, welcomed the principles of
the Reformation.[823] Among those won to the Gospel were the Seigneurs
De la Crète and De la Visière, the pious and zealous Leonard de Vaudan,
Besenval, Tillier, Challans, Bovet, Borgnion, Philippon, Gay, and
others.[824]

But if there were hearts in the valley of Aosta ready to receive the
Gospel, there were others determined to resist it. At the head of its
opponents were two eminent men. Among the laity was Count René de
Challans, marshal of Aosta, full of enthusiasm for popery and feudalism,
and bursting with contempt for the heretics and republicans of
Switzerland. Distressed at witnessing the reverses suffered by his
master, the duke of Savoy, he had sworn that in Aosta at least he would
exterminate the Lutherans. His fellow-soldier in this crusade was Pietro
Gazzini, bishop of Aosta, one of the most famous prelates of Italy.
Priests and devotees extolled his virtues and his learning, but what
distinguished him most was the haughty temper and domineering humor
which so often characterizes the priests of Rome. Gazzini was a canon of
the Lateran, the first patriarchal church of the west, and served as the
channel between the duke and the pope. He was at Rome when evangelical
doctrine began to spread in his diocese, and he then tried to manage
that the council, which was to put an end to heresy, should be held in
the states of the duke his master.[825] He even carried his ambition for
his sovereign very far. 'It was becoming,' he told the pontiff, 'that
the direction of the council should be given to the duke of Savoy by the
emperor and the king of France.'[826] The direction of a council given
to a secular prince by the pope and two other secular princes is an idea
apparently not in strict harmony with the theocratic omnipotence of the
pontiff, which many men boast of so loudly.

In the bishop's absence there was a person at Aosta quite worthy of
supplying his place: this was the guardian of the Franciscan monastery,
Antonio Savion (Antonius de Sapientibus), a well-informed, zealous man,
who afterwards became general of the order, and was one of the fathers
of the Council of Trent. Savion uttered a cry of alarm.

One day, when Gazzini was performing his duties in the basilica of St.
John, he received letters describing the state of affairs at Aosta. The
alarmed prelate did not hesitate. 'When Calvin's heresy was penetrating
into his diocese,' said Besson, the Savoyard priest, 'he hastened to
block up the road.'[827]

As soon as the bishop arrived, he visited every parish with
indefatigable diligence; he went into the pulpits and 'kept the people
in sound doctrine by his sermons.'[828] He told them that 'Satan was
prowling about, like a roaring lion, to devour them; that they must
therefore keep a strict watch and drive back the ferocious beast.' To
these exhortations he added censures, monitions, and excommunications.
All readers of Holy Scripture were to be driven from the fold of the
church.

A general assembly of the Estates of the valley to regulate the affairs
of the district was held on the 21st of February, 1536. Among the
deputies were several friends of the Reformation: De la Crète, Vaudan,
Borgnion, and others indicated in the _cahier_ of the Estates.[829] Two
subjects in particular filled the majority of the assembly with anxiety.
The political and the religious situation of the city appeared equally
threatened. Men's eyes were turned to Switzerland, and it was asserted
that designs of political conquest were combined in the minds of the
Bernese with the too manifest desire of religious conquest. At a time
when the house of Savoy was exposed to the attack of France, many wanted
to see the valley of Aosta take advantage of this to join the Helvetic
League and rally under the standard of the Gospel. The members of the
assembly were convinced that the Swiss desired 'to canton' all the
country, and by that means extend their confederation on both sides of
the Alps. But the other danger was still more alarming to the chiefs of
the Roman party, and they earnestly represented to the Estates that the
attachment of the city and valley to the holy see of Rome was
threatened; and that the Bernese Lutherans, who were not content with
laying hands upon the territory of Vaud, but had introduced and
propagated their 'venomous sect,' wanted to do the same in Aosta.[830]
The assembly resolved to maintain the Roman-catholic faith and continue
loyal to his ducal highness, and it was enacted that every transgressor
should be put to death.[831]

[Sidenote: CALVIN AT AOSTA.]

It is a matter of notoriety that Calvin passed through the city of
Aosta; but did he arrive at this epoch, and was he there during part at
least of the session of the Estates? This is affirmed by documents of
the 17th and 18th centuries, and his presence there is not impossible;
but there is, in our opinion, one circumstance adverse to its
acceptance. The official documents of the period, and more especially
the journals of the assembly of February and March, 1536, make no
mention of Calvin's presence, and do not even allude to it. It would,
however, have been worth the trouble of recording, if he were only
designated, as he was a little later in the Registers of Geneva, as _a
Frenchman_. Two important facts, in a religious point of view, occurred
at Aosta in the early months of the year 1536: the Assembly of the
Estates and the passage of Calvin. The first took place in February and
March; the second probably a little later. Tradition makes them
coincide, which is more dramatic; history sets each in its right place.
But because the reformer did not (during the sitting of the Assembly)
play the part assigned to him, it must not be assumed that he never
passed through that city.

Calvin had his reasons for taking the Aosta and St. Bernard route. It
had been in use for centuries, and he had no doubt learnt during his
residence at Basle, what was universally known in Switzerland, that the
Bernese had frequent relations with this country, that they had
introduced the Gospel there, and that some of the inhabitants had
adopted the principles of the Reformation. An ancient document gives us
to understand that Calvin passed through Aosta both going and
returning.[832] In our opinion that would be quite natural. The reports
circulated in Switzerland about that city would induce him to take that
road on his way to Italy, and we can easily conceive, as regards his
return, that a fugitive would take a road already known to him, and
where he was sure of meeting friends. But we do not press this, and are
content to follow the traces Calvin left in the country on his return,
and which are still to be found there.

[Sidenote: CALVIN'S FARM.]

At the foot of the St. Bernard, very near the city of Aosta, stood a
house on some rising ground, where a grange may still be seen. In order
to reach it you leave the St. Bernard road a short distance from the
city and take a footpath, near which a little chapel now stands. The
meadows around it, the abrupt peaks rising above it, the Alps hiding
their snowy heads in the clouds, the view over Aosta and the valley—all
combined to give a picturesque aspect to that house. If the traveller
asks the inhabitants of the country what house that is, he will be told
it is 'Calvin's Farm;' and they add that when the reformer was passing
through Aosta, he was sheltered there by one of the most zealous of the
reformed, Leonard de Vaudan. It was very natural that Calvin should
prefer such a retired habitation to a house in the city.

We do not know what Calvin did or said at Aosta. The only fact which
appears proved—and a monument more than three centuries old attests
it—is that his presence did not remain unknown, and caused a sensation
there more or less lively. The reformer would have run great danger had
he been arrested in the city of Bishop Gazzini, 'who by his vehement
discourses was arming all his flock against the heretics, and who,
seeing Satan incarnate in the evangelical teachers, called upon them to
expel the ravenous beast.' Such are the expressions made use of by the
historian of the diocese.[833] Calvin, already a fugitive, hastened to
leave the neighborhood of the city. To these simple and natural facts
some extraordinary circumstances have been added. For instance, certain
writers have represented the Count of Challans in fierce pursuit of
Calvin, and following him with drawn sword into the very heart of the
mountains. This is a legend tacked on to history, as happens far too
frequently.

It was natural that Calvin, under the circumstances in which he was
placed, should not take the ordinary road, as it was certain he would be
looked for there, and he might easily have been overtaken. It would
appear, if we follow the traces his passage has left round Aosta, that
he sought to escape from the enemies of the Reformation. When we leave
'Calvin's Farm,' and turn to the right, we come to a bridge near Roisan,
below the village of Closelina. This is called in the neighborhood
'Calvin's Bridge.' Calvin crossed it, and thus followed a more difficult
and less frequented road than the St. Bernard. If we climb the mountain
in the direction of the valley of La Valpeline, we arrive at a col
inclosed by Mont Balme, Mont Combin, and Mont Vélan: this is the 'pass
of the window,' afterwards named 'Calvin's Window,' and by it the
reformer entered Switzerland again.[834]

As we have said, Calvin's passage had made a deep impression in Aosta.
The inhabitants of that most catholic city looked upon their opposition
to the reformer, and the flight to which they compelled him to have
recourse, as a glory to their city calculated to bring upon them the
admiration of the friends of the papacy. Consequently, five years after
these events, on the 14th May, 1541, the Aostans erected a stone cross
in the middle of their city in memory of the act. As this primitive
monument had become decayed, it was replaced two centuries later (1741)
by a column eight feet high, which Senebier mentions, and on which there
was this inscription:[835]

  'HANC CALVINI FUGA EREXIT ANNO MDXLI.
  RELIGIONIS CONSTANTIA REPARAVIT MDCCXLI.'

Finally, a hundred years later, this was succeeded by the monument,
which every traveller can now see as he passes through Aosta, and which
we have examined more than once ourselves.[836] There are thus three
centuries and three successive monuments. Calvin's passage through the
city of Aosta is, therefore, among the number of historic facts
commemorated on the very spot where they occurred, in the most
peremptory manner.

[Sidenote: CALVIN RETURNS TO FRANCE.]

Calvin passed through Switzerland, halted at Basle, and thence proceeded
to Strasburg. He determined to choose one of these two cities, in which
to pass that studious and peaceful life he desired so much, either in
the society of Cop, Gryneus, and Myconius, or of Bucer, Capito, and
Hedio. But he desired first to return to Noyon, where he had some
business to arrange. Leaving Du Tillet at Strasburg, he started for
France, which he could do without imprudence; for he had not left his
country under the weight of any judicial sentence which he had evaded.
Moreover the government just then was less severe.

The arrival of the young doctor was no sooner known in Paris than many
friends of the Gospel hastened to his inn. They were never tired of
listening to him. 'There is not in all France,' they told him, 'a man
who inspires us with so much admiration as you do.'[837]

But Calvin was eager to reach Noyon, where a severe disappointment
awaited him: his brother Charles, the chaplain, was no more.[838] The
circumstances of his death filled Calvin with sorrow and with joy.
'Charles openly confessed Jesus Christ on his dying bed,' his surviving
brother, Anthony, and his sister Mary told John, 'and desired no other
absolution than that obtained from God by faith. Accordingly, the
exasperated priests had him buried by night, between the four pillars of
the gallows.'

Calvin invited Anthony and Mary to leave a country in which believers
were covered with infamy.

His stay at Noyon was very short. It was not possible for him to go
direct to Basle or Strasburg, because of the war between Charles V. and
Francis I., which prevented his crossing Champagne and Lorraine; but he
learnt that he could, without encountering any difficulty, pass through
Bresse, then ascend the Rhone, traverse Geneva, and so reach Basle by
way of Lausanne and Berne. He took this road. 'In all this,' says Beza,
'God was his guide.'[839]

Thus drew near to Geneva the great theologian who discerned more clearly
than any other man of that day what, in doctrine and in life, was in
conformity with or opposed to God's truth and will. Whereas his
predecessors had left some few traditions existing by the side of
Scripture, he laid bare the rock of the Word. Truth had become the sole
passion of that ardent and inflexible soul, and he was resolved to
dedicate his whole life to it. At that time, however, he had no idea of
performing a work like Luther's; and if he had been shown the career
that was opening before him, he would have shrunk from it with terror.
'I will try to earn my living in a private station,' he said.[840] The
ambition of Francis I. changed everything. That prince, unwittingly,
accomplished the designs of God, who desired to place the reformer in
the centre of Europe, between Italy, Germany, and France.

[809] _Défense de Calvin_, par Drelincourt, p. 337.

[810] _Œuvres de Cl. Marot_, ii. p. 337.

[811] 'Vengo assicurato da chi ha veduto gli atti dell' Inquisizion di
Ferrara.'—Muratori, _Annali d'Italia_, xiv. p. 305.

[812] 'Che si pestifero mobile fu fatto prigione.'—_Ibid._

[813] Calvin on _Acts_ xii. 6.

[814] 'Mentre che era condotto da Ferrara a Bologna.'—Muratori, _Annali
d'Italia_, xix. p. 305.

[815] 'Gente armata.'—_Ibid._

[816] 'Fu messo in libertà.'—_Ibid._

[817] 'Onde fosse venuto il colpo.'—Muratori, _Annali d'Italia_,
xiv. p. 305.

[818] Bayle's Dictionary, _sub voce_ Castelvetro.—J. Bonnet: _Calvin_.
The discovery happened in 1823.

[819] Tiraboschi, _Hist. de la Litt. ital._ vii. p. 169.

[820] Bonnet, _Calvin au Val d'Aoste_, pp. 13, 14.

[821] Dépêches d'Ami Porral au Conseil de Genève.

[822] Lettres du Conseil de Berne au duc de Savoie du dernier Septembre
1535, et au Conseil de Genève du 24 Décembre 1535. These letters were
communicated to me, along with others, by M. de Steiner, librarian of
the city of Berne, and M. de Stürler, Chancellor of State.

[823] 'Quæ factæ sunt per Bernenses Leuteranos in Provincia Augustana,
etc.' Procès-verbal de l'Assemblée du 28 Février 1536.

[824] Many of these names are still to be found in Suisse Romande where
the bearers of them had been forced to take refuge.

[825] _Il vescovo d'Agosta allo duca di Savoia._ The author found this
letter, dated from Rome, in the General Archives of the kingdom of
Italy, preserved at Turin.

[826] 'Di far dare il governo del Concilio, tanto da sua Santità quanto
dallo Imperatore, e re di Francia, a vostra Eccellenza (the
duke).'—_Ibid._

[827] _Mémoires des diocèses de Genève, d'Aoste, etc._, par le curé
Besson, p. 260.

[828] _Ibid._ p. 261.

[829] 'Nobilis Nicolaus de Crista, Antonius Vaudan, Bartolomæus,
Borgnion, pro communitate parochiæ Sancti Stephani electi, etc.' General
Council of February 1536. Archives of the Intendance of Aosta.

[830] 'Illa secta venenosa leuterana.'—Procès-verbal of the Assembly.
Archives of the Intendance of Aosta.

[831] MS. in the Archives of the kingdom at Turin.

[832] Documents in the Archives of M. Martinet, formerly deputy of
Aosta.—J. Bonnet, _Calvin au Val d'Aoste_, p. 21.

[833] _Mémoires des diocèses de Genève et d'Aoste, etc._, par le curé
Besson, p. 261.

[834] The idea of Calvin's passage by this _col_ is now generally
admitted, and even in Murray's Guide we read, '_Calvin fled by this pass
from Aosta_.'

[835] _Histoire littéraire de Genève_, i. p. 182 (edit. 1786).

[836] To the inscription given above, these words have been added:

 'CIVIUM MUNIFICENTIA RENOVAVIT ET ADORNAVIT.
 ANNO MDCCCXLI.'

[837] Godefridus Lopinus, _Calvino_. MS. preserved in the public Library
at Geneva.

[838] Beza, _Vita Calvini_.

[839] 'Divinitus perductus.'—Beza, _Vita Calvini_.

[840] _Lettres françaises de Calvin_, i. p. 22.




 CHAPTER XVII.
 CALVIN'S ARRIVAL AT GENEVA.
 (SUMMER, 1536.)


[Sidenote: CALVIN ARRIVES AT GENEVA.]

One evening in the month of July, 1536, a carriage from France arrived
at Geneva. A man, still young, alighted from it. He was short, thin, and
pale; his beard was black and pointed, his organization weak, and his
frame somewhat worn by study; but in his high forehead, lively and
severe eyes, regular and expressive features, there were indications of
a profound spirit, an elevated soul, and an indomitable character. His
intention was to 'pass through Geneva hastily, without stopping more
than one night in the city.'[841] He was accompanied by a man and woman
of about the same age. The three travellers belonged to the same
family—two brothers and a sister. The foremost of them, long accustomed
to keep himself in the background, desired to pass through Geneva
unobserved. He inquired for an inn where he could spend the night: his
voice was mild, and his manner attractive. Scarcely a carriage arrived
from France without being surrounded by some of the Genevans, or at
least by French refugees; for it might bring new fugitives, obliged to
seek a country in which they were free to profess the doctrine of
Christ. A young Frenchman, at that time the friend and disciple of the
traveller, who had gone to the place where the carriage from France put
up, in order to see if it brought anybody whom he knew, recognized the
man with the intelligent face, and conducted him to an hotel. The
traveller was John Calvin, and his friend was Louis Du Tillet, ex-canon
of Angoulême, Calvin's travelling companion during his Italian journey.
From Strasburg, whither he had gone to meet Calvin, he had returned to
Geneva, no doubt because he thought that the war between Francis I. and
Charles V. would compel his friend to make a bend and pass through
Bresse and the valley of the Leman. This was actually what happened.

Calvin, who had come to Geneva without a plan and even against his will,
having sat down with Du Tillet in his room at the hotel, their
conversation naturally turned on the city in which they were, and of
which the reformer know but little. He learnt, either from his friend or
from others subsequently, what he probably knew something about already;
namely, that popery had been driven out of it shortly before; that the
zeal, struggles, trials, and evangelical labors of William Farel were
incessant; but that affairs were not yet 'put in order in the city;'
that there were dangerous divisions, and that Farel was contending
almost alone for the triumph of the Gospel. Calvin had long respected
Farel as the most zealous of evangelists; but it does not appear that
they had ever met. Du Tillet could not keep to himself the news of his
friend's arrival, and after leaving Calvin, he called on Master William.
'After discovering me, he made my coming known to others,' says
Calvin.[842]

[Sidenote: FAREL AND CALVIN.]

Farel, who had read the _Christian Institutes_, had recognized in the
author of that work the most eminent genius, the most scriptural
theologian, and the most eloquent writer of the age. The thought that
this extraordinary man was in Geneva, and that he could see and hear
him, moved and delighted Farel. He went with all haste to the inn and
entered into conversation with the youthful theologian. Everything
confirmed him in his former opinion. He had long been looking for a
servant of God to help him, yet had never thought of Calvin. But now a
flash of light shone into his soul, an inward voice said to him: This is
the man of God you are seeking. 'At the very moment when I was thinking
least about it,' he said, 'the grace of God led me to him.' From that
moment there was no hesitation or delay. 'Farel, who glowed with a
marvellous zeal for promoting the Gospel,' says Calvin, 'made every
effort to retain me.'[843]

Would he succeed? Seldom has there been a man who, like Calvin, was
placed in the influential position he was to occupy all his life, not
only without his concurrence but even against his will. 'Stay with me,'
said Farel, 'and help me. There is work to be done in this city.' Calvin
replied with astonishment: 'Excuse me, I cannot stop here more than one
night.'—'Why do you seek elsewhere for what is now offered you?' replied
Farel; 'why refuse to edify the Church of Geneva by your faith, zeal,
and knowledge?' The appeal was fruitless: to undertake so great a task
seemed to Calvin impossible. 'But Farel, inspired by the spirit of a
hero,' says Theodore Beza, 'would not be discouraged.' He pointed out to
the stranger that as the Reformation had been miraculously established
in Geneva, it ought not to be abandoned in a cowardly manner; that if he
did not take the part offered to him in this task, the work might
probably perish, and he would be the cause of the ruin of the
Church.[844] Calvin could not make up his mind; he did not want to bind
himself to a particular church; he told his new friend that he preferred
travelling in search of knowledge, and making himself useful in the
places where he chanced to halt. 'Look first at the place in which you
are now,' answered Farel; 'popery has been driven out and traditions
abolished, and now the doctrine of the Scriptures must be taught here.'
'I cannot _teach_,' exclaimed Calvin; 'on the contrary, I have need to
_learn_. There are special labors for which I wish to reserve myself.
This city cannot afford me the leisure that I require.'

He explained his plan. He wanted to go to Strasburg, to Bucer, and
Capito, and then putting himself in communication with the other doctors
of Germany, to increase his knowledge by continued study. 'Study!
leisure! knowledge!' said Farel. 'What! must we never _practise_? I am
sinking under my task; pray help me.' The young doctor had still other
reasons. His constitution was weak. 'The frail state of my health needs
rest,' he said.—'Rest!' exclaimed Farel, 'death alone permits the
soldiers of Christ to rest from their labors.' Calvin certainly did not
mean to do nothing. He would labor, but each man labors according to the
gift he has received: he would defend the Reformation not by his deeds
but by words.[845]

The reformer had not yet expressed his whole thought: it was not only
the work they asked him to undertake that frightened him, it was also
the locality in which he would have to carry it out. He did not feel
himself strong enough to bear the combat he would have to engage in. He
shrank from appearing before the assemblies of Geneva. The violence, the
tumults, the indomitable temper of the Genevese were much talked of, and
they intimidated and alarmed him. To this Farel replied, 'that the
severer the disease, the stronger the measures to be employed to cure
it.' The Genevese storm, it is true; they burst out like a squall of
wind in a gale; but was that a reason for leaving him, Farel, alone to
meet these furious tempests? 'I entreat you,' said the intrepid
evangelist, 'to take your share. These matters are harder than death.'
The burden was too heavy for his shoulders; he wanted the help of a
younger man. But the young man of Noyon was surprised that _he_ should
be thought of. 'I am timid and naturally pusillanimous,' he said. 'How
can I withstand such roaring waves?'[846] At this Farel could not
restrain a feeling of anger and almost of contempt. 'Ought the servants
of Jesus Christ to be so delicate,' he exclaimed, 'as to be frightened
at warfare?'[847] This blow touched the young reformer to the heart.
_He_ frightened!—_he_ prefer his own ease to the service of the Saviour!
His conscience was troubled and his feelings were violently agitated.
But his great humility still held him back: he had a deep sentiment of
his incapacity for the kind of work they wanted him to undertake. 'I beg
of you, in God's name,' he exclaimed, 'to have pity on me! Leave me to
serve Him in another way than what you desire.'

[Sidenote: THE IMPRECATION.]

Farel, seeing that neither prayers nor exhortations could avail with
Calvin, reminded him of a frightful example of disobedience similar to
his own. 'Jonah, also,' he said, 'wanted to flee from the presence of
the Lord, but _the Lord cast him into the sea_.' The struggle in the
young doctor's heart became more keen. He was violently shaken, like an
oak assailed by the tempest; he bent before the blast, and rose up
again, but a last gust, more impetuous than all the others, was shortly
about to uproot him. The emotion of the elder of the two speakers had
gradually increased, in proportion as the young man's had also
increased. Farel's heart was hot within him. At that supreme moment,
feeling as if inspired by the Spirit of God, he raised his hand towards
heaven and exclaimed: 'You are thinking only of your tranquillity, you
care for nothing but your studies. Be it so. In the name of Almighty
God, I declare that if you do not answer to His summons, He will not
bless your plans.' Then, perceiving that the critical moment had come,
he added an 'alarming adjuration' to his declaration: he even ventured
on an imprecation. Fixing his eyes of fire on the young man, and placing
his hands on the head of his victim, he exclaimed in his voice of
thunder: 'May God curse your repose! may God curse your studies, if in
such a great necessity as ours you withdraw and refuse to give us help
and support!'

At these words, the young doctor, whom Farel had for some time kept on
the rack, trembled. He shook in every limb; he felt that Farel's words
did not proceed from himself: God was there, the holiness of the
presence of Jehovah laid strong hold of his mind; _he saw_ _Him who is
invisible_. It appeared to him, he said, 'that the hand of God was
stretched down from heaven, that it lay hold of him, and fixed him
irrevocably to the place he was so impatient to leave.'[848] He could
not free himself from that terrible grasp. Like Lot's wife when she
looked back on her tranquil home, he was rooted to his seat, powerless
to move. At last he raised his head and peace returned to his soul; he
had yielded, he had sacrificed the studies he loved so well, he had laid
his Isaac on the altar, he consented _to lose his life to save it_. His
conscience, now convinced, made him surmount every obstacle in order
that he might obey. That heart, so faithful and sincere, gave itself,
and gave itself for ever. Seeing that what was required of him was God's
pleasure, says Farel, he did violence to himself, adding: 'And he did
more, and that more promptly, than any one else could have done.'

[Sidenote: CALVIN'S SUBMISSION.]

The call of Calvin in Geneva is perhaps, after that of St. Paul, the
most remarkable to be found in the history of the Church. It was not
miraculous, like that of the Apostle on the road to Damascus; and yet in
the chamber of that inn, there was the flash of light and the roar as of
thunder; the voice which the Lord made to sound in Calvin's heart,
terrified him, broke down his obstinacy, and prostrated him as if a
thunderbolt from heaven had struck him. His heart had been pierced; he
had bowed his head with humility, and almost prostrate on the earth he
had felt that he could no longer fight against God and kick against the
pricks. At the same time confidence in God filled his soul. He knew that
He who made him feel those 'stings'[849] had a sovereign remedy
calculated to heal all his wounds. Has not God said, 'Commit thy way
unto the Lord, and He shall bring it to pass?' The young man desired no
longer to run restive like a fiery courser, but, 'like a docile steed,
permit himself to be guided peaceably by the hand of his Master.'[850]

From that hour the propagation and defence of truth became the sole
passion of his life, and to them he consecrated all the powers of his
heart. He had still, after this solemn hour, to undergo, as he says,
'great anxiety, sorrow, tears, and distress.' But his resolution was
taken. He belonged to himself no longer, but to God. 'In everything and
in every place he would guide himself entirely by his obedience.' He
never forgot the fearful adjuration which Farel had employed. He had not
set himself (he thought) in the place he occupied, but had been put
there by the arm of the Almighty. Hence, whenever he met with obstacles,
he called to mind 'the hand stretched down from heaven,' and knowing its
sovereign power, he took courage.

The reformer did not, however, stop at Geneva immediately. On leaving
France, he had undertaken to accompany one of his relations, named
Artois, to Basle. For some days the brethren of Geneva refused to let
him go. At last, seeing that Calvin was decided, they confined
themselves to extorting from him an engagement to return; after which he
started for Basle with his relation. On the road he encountered fresh
importunities; the Churches, whom the author of the _Christian
Institutes_ saluted on his journey, desired to detain him.[851] Whether
these entreaties, on which Calvin had not reckoned before setting out,
proceeded from Lausanne, Neuchâtel, Berne, or rather from some other and
younger Churches, it is hard to say. At last he arrived at Basle, and
having finished his business returned to Geneva, probably in the latter
half of the month of August. But he had no sooner arrived than his
delicate health was shaken; he suffered from a severe cold, and was ill
for nine days.

[Sidenote: CALVIN'S VOCATION.]

When Calvin recovered from his indisposition, he at once set about the
work for which he had been detained. As he would have a crowd of
hearers—men and women, old and young, Genevese and strangers—the
cathedral of St. Pierre was assigned him. It was in that vast building,
where the mass had been so often sung, that Calvin was about to
inaugurate the reign of Holy Scripture. The gates of St. Pierre's
opened; the frail and humble, but powerful preacher entered the Gothic
portal; a numerous crowd made their way with him into the nave, whose
majestic grandeur seemed to harmonize so well with the new teaching that
was about to be heard in it; and soon his voice resounded under those
time-honored arches.

Calvin, coming after Luther and Farel, was called to complete the work
of both. The mighty Luther, to whom will always belong the first place
in the work of the Reformation, had uttered the words of faith with
power; Calvin was to systematize them, and show the imposing unity of
the evangelical doctrine. The impetuous Farel, the most active
missionary of the epoch, had detached men from Romish errors, and had
united many to Christ, but without combining them; Calvin was to reunite
these scattered members and constitute the assembly. Possessed of an
organizing genius, he accomplished the task which God had assigned him:
he undertook to form a church placed under the direction of the Word of
God and the discipline of the Holy Ghost. In his opinion, this ought to
be—not, as at Rome, the hierarchical institution of a legal religion;
nor, as with the mystics, a vague ideal; nor, as with the rationalists,
an intellectual and moral society without religious life. It is said of
the Word, which was God, and which was made flesh: _In_ _Him was life_.
Life must, therefore, be the essential characteristic of the people that
it was to form. Spiritual powers must—so Calvin thought—act in the midst
of the flock of Jesus Christ. It was not ideas only that the Lord
communicated to His disciples, but a divine life. 'In the kingdom of
Christ,' he said, 'all that we need care for is the _new man_.'

And this was not a mere theory: Calvin must see it put into action. Not
content with the reformation of the faith, he will combat that decline
of morality which has for so long filled courts, cities, and monasteries
with disorder. He will call for the conversion of the heart and holiness
of life; he will interdict luxury, drunkenness, blasphemy, impurity,
masquerades, and gambling, which the Roman Church had tolerated.

This strictness of discipline has brought down severe reproaches on the
reformer. We must confess that if Calvin did take a false step, it was
here. He conceded to man, to the magistrate, too great a share in the
correction of morals and doctrine: in the sixteenth century the
intervention of the State in the discipline of the Church disturbed the
only truly salutary action of the Word of God. Calvin cleansed with pure
water the gold and silver of the tabernacle, but left on it _one_
spot—the employment of the civil arm. We must not, however, accuse him
more than justice permits. He had to suffer from this action of the
temporal power much more than he employed it. Since 1532 the Genevese
government had set itself in the place of the bishop. We have seen its
orders to preach the Gospel without any admixture of human doctrines. A
little later it organized the grand disputation, demanded by Bernard,
and presided over it as judge. Did it not even go so far as to remove
from the people of Thiez the excommunication pronounced by the bishop?
Elsewhere we have described how in the Swiss cantons, and especially at
Zurich and Berne, the magistrates did the same. The intervention of
temporal authority proceeded from the temporal power. The Council of
Geneva had no intention of permitting a strange minister, a young man of
Noyon, to deprive them of prerogatives to which they clung strongly.
They claimed the right to regulate almost everything by their
decrees—from the highest things, the profession of faith, the regulation
of worship, and the government of the church, down to women's dress.
Calvin often protested against those pretensions, and on this point his
whole life was one long struggle. Far from blaming the reformer for
certain regulations he was obliged to permit, we should praise him for
the firmness with which he maintained, more than any other teacher of
the sixteenth century, the great principles of the distinction between
what is temporal and what is spiritual.[852]

[Sidenote: RESULTS OF HIS TEACHING.]

But he contributed still more forcibly by his direct teaching to scatter
the seeds of a true and wise liberty among the new generations.
Doubtless the sources of modern civilization are manifold. Many men of
different vocations and genius have labored at this great work; but it
is just to acknowledge the place that Calvin occupies among them. The
purity and force of his morality were the most powerful means of
liberating men and nations from the abuses which had been everywhere
introduced, and from the despotic vexations under which they groaned. A
nation weak in its morals is easily enslaved. But he did more. How great
the truths, how important the principles that Calvin has proclaimed!
He fearlessly attacked the papacy, _by which all liberty is
oppressed_,[853] and which during so many centuries had kept the human
mind in bondage; and broke the chains which everywhere fettered the
thoughts of man. He boldly asserted 'that there is _a very manifest
distinction_ between the spiritual and the political or civil
governments.'[854] He did more than this: the aim of his whole life was
to restore the supremacy of conscience. He endeavored to re-establish
the kingdom of God in man, and succeeded in doing so not only with men
of genius, but with a great number of obscure persons. These were the
men who, resolving to obey God above all things, were able to resist the
instruments of the pope, the Valois, Philip II., Alva, and their
imitators. While maintaining their liberty as regards faith, those noble
disciples of the Gospel—men such as Knox, Marnix de Sainte-Aldegonde,
and a multitude of other Christian heroes—learnt to maintain it in
earthly matters.[855] Such was the principal gate by which the different
liberties have entered the world.

Calvin did not confine himself to theories: he pronounced frankly
against the despotism of kings and the despotism of the people. He
declared that 'if princes _usurp any portion of God's authority_, we
must not obey them;'[856] and that if the people indulge in acts of mad
violence, we should rather perish than submit to them. 'God has not
armed you,' he said, 'that you may resist those who are set over you by
Him as governors. You cannot expect He will protect you, if you
undertake what He disavows.'[857] Nevertheless Calvin taught men to love
such eternal blessings, and said that it was better to die than to be
deprived of them. '_God's honor_,' he declared, '_is more precious than
your life_.' And from that hour we see those in the Netherlands and
elsewhere, who had learnt at Geneva to maintain freedom of conscience,
acquiring such a love for liberty that they claimed it also for the
State, sought it for themselves, and endeavored to give it to others.
Religious liberty has been, and is still, the mother of every kind of
liberty; but in our days we witness a strange sight. Many of those who
owe their emancipation in great part to Calvin, have lost all
recollection of it, and some of them insult the noble champion who made
them free.

Still, the establishment of temporal liberty was not the reformer's
object: it flows only from his principles, as water from a spring. To
proclaim the salvation of God, to establish the right of God—these are
the things to which he devoted his life, and that work he pursued with
unalterable firmness. He knows the resistance that men will oppose to
him: but that shall not check his march. He will batter down ramparts,
bridge over chasms, and unflinchingly trample under foot the barriers
which he knows are opposed to the glory of God and the welfare of man.
Calvin has a correct, penetrating, and sure eye, and his glance takes in
a wide horizon. He resists not only the chief enemy, popery, but
generously opposes those who seem to be on his side and pretend to
support him: there is no acceptance of persons with him. He discerns
manifold and grave errors hidden under the cloak of reform—errors which
would destroy from its foundation the edifice to whose building, those
who teach them, pretend to give their help. Whilst many allow themselves
to be surprised, he discovers the small cloud rising from the sea; he
sees the skies are about to be darkened and filled with storms, thunder,
and rain. At the sight of these tempests he neither bends nor hides his
head: on the contrary, he raises it boldly. 'We are called,' he says,
'to difficult battles; but far from being astonished and growing timid,
we take courage, and commit our own body to the deadly struggle.'

That man had occasioned astonishment at first by his youthful air and
the weakness of his constitution; but he had no sooner spoken than he
rose in the eyes of all who heard him. He grew taller and taller, he
towered above their heads. Every man presaged in him one of those mighty
intelligences which carry nations with them, gain battles, found
empires, discover worlds, reform religion, and transform society.

Calvin teaches in Geneva, he writes to those far beyond its walls. And
ere long we see something new forming in the world. A great work had
been commenced by the heroic Luther, who had a successor worthy of him
to complete it. Calvin gives to the Reformation what the pope affirms it
does not possess. There is a noise and a shaking, and the dry bones meet
together. The breath comes from the four winds, the dead live and stand
upon their feet, an exceeding great army. The Church of Christ has
reappeared upon earth. From the bosom of that little city goes forth the
word of life. France, Switzerland, the Netherlands, Germany, England,
Scotland, and other countries hear it. A century later, that same word,
borne by pious refugees or faithful missionaries, shall become the glory
and strength of the New World. Later still, it shall visit the most
distant isles and continents; it shall fill the earth with the knowledge
of the Lord, and shall gather together more and more the dispersed
families of the world round the cross of Christ in a holy and living
unity.

[Sidenote: A COUNCIL MINUTE.]

On the 5th of September, 1536, the Council of Geneva ordered these words
to be written in their public registers:

'_Master William Farel explains that the lecture which that Frenchman
had begun at St. Pierre's was necessary; wherefore he prayed that they
would consider about retaining_ _him and providing for his support. Upon
which it was resolved to provide for his maintenance._'

On the 15th of February, 1537, they gave six crowns of the sun, and
afterwards a cloth coat, to 'that Frenchman' recently arrived, and whose
name it would seem they did not know.[858] Such are the modest notices
of the young man in the public records of the city which received him.
In a few years that name was sounded all over the world; and in our time
a celebrated historian—impartial in the question, as he does not belong
to the churches of the Reformation—has said: 'In order that French
protestantism [we might say "protestantism" in general] should have a
character and doctrine, it needed a city to serve as a centre, and a
chief to become its organizer. _That city was Geneva, and that chief was
Calvin._'[859]

[841] Preface to Calvin's _Commentaire sur les Psaumes_.

[842] 'Il me fit connaître aux autres.'—Preface to the _Commentaire sur
les Psaumes_. In the Latin edition, 'Statim fecit ut innotescerem.'

[843] Letter to Chr. Fabri, 6th June, 1561.

[844] Beza, _Vie de Calvin_.

[845] Calvin, _Préface des Psaumes_.

[846] _Ibid._

[847] Beza, _Vie de Calvin_.

[848] 'Ac si Deum violentem mihi e cœlo manum injiceret.'—Calvin.

[849] 'Piqûres.' The word is Calvin's.

[850] Calvin.

[851] 'In ipso itinere Ecclesias multas offendo quibus immorari
aliquantisper rogor.' Calvin to Daniel, 13th October, 1536. _Offendo_
should here be taken in the sense of 'to meet,' rather than 'to hurt.'
See Cicero, _Fam._ ii. p. 3.

[852] On this subject Mons. A. Roget has put forward just views and
authentic facts in his writing entitled, _L'Eglise et l'Etat à Genève du
vivant de Calvin_.

[853] Calvin, _Institution chrétienne_, liv. iv. ch. 7.

[854] Calvin, _Institution chrétienne_, liv. iv. ch. 22.

[855] 'What is the principle of our strength?' asked an eloquent Dutch
writer not long ago. 'I will tell you: it is in our origin. We are the
offspring of the Geneva of Calvin.'—_La Hollande et l'Influence de
Calvin_, par M. Groen van Prinsterer, conseiller d'Etat. La Haye, 1864.

[856] Calvin, _Comment. sur Matth._ xxii. 21.

[857] This was addressed to those who were exciting the protestants of
France to acts of violence. See Calvin's letters to the Church of
Angers, April 1556, and other letters.

[858] Registres du Conseil des 13 Février 1537, 13 et 20 Septembre 1541.

[859] Mignet, _La Réformation de Genève_, p. 10.




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