J. H. Merle D'Aubigné - History of the Reformation in Europe in the Time of Calvin (Vol. 1-8)

Moral victories secure success more than material victories. Over the corpses of Berthelier and Lévrier we might give a christian turn to the celebrated saying: ‘It is the defeated cause that is pleasing to God.’ The triumph of brute force in the castle of Bonne and in front of Cæsar’s tower agitated, scandalised, and terrified men’s minds. Tears were everywhere shed over these two murders.... But patience! These bloody ‘stations’ will be found glorious ‘stations’ leading to the summit of right and liberty. A book has been written telling the history of the founders of religious liberty. I may be deceived, but it appears to me that the narrative of the struggles of the first huguenots might be entitled: History of the founders of modern liberty . My consolation when I find myself called upon to describe events hitherto unknown, relating to persons unnoticed until this hour, and taking place in a little city or obscure castle, is, that these facts have, in my opinion, a European, a universal interest, and belong to the fundamental principles of existing civilisation. Berthelier, Lévrier, and others have hitherto been only Genevese heroes; they are worthy of being placed on a loftier pedestal, and of being hailed by society as heroes of the human race.

The haste with which the victim had been sacrificed, the remote theatre of the crime, the hour of night that had been chosen, all show that Charles had an uneasy conscience. He soon discovered that he had not been mistaken in his fears. The indignation was general. The men of independence took advantage of the crime that had been committed to magnify the price of liberty. ‘A fine return,’ they said, ‘for the honours we have paid Monsieur of Savoy and his wife!’ Though their anger broke out against the duke, the bishop had his share of their contempt. The reflection that he had permitted his friends to be sacrificed on one side of the Alps while he was amusing himself on the other, shocked these upright souls. ‘A pretty shepherd,’ they said, ‘who not only abandons his flock to the wolves, but the faithful dogs also that watch over it!’ They were disgusted with priestly government: some citizens even went so far as to say: ‘We had better grant Monsieur of Savoy his request, than let ourselves be murdered for a prelate who gives us no credit for it. If the duke takes away certain things, he will at least guarantee the rest; while the bishop devours us on one side and lets us be devoured on the other.’ 350They concluded that ecclesiastical principalities only served to ruin their subjects—at Geneva as well as at Rome. Liberals and ducals held almost the same language. The temporal power of the bishop was a worm-eaten building that would tumble down at the first shock.

When the news of the murder at Bonne was heard among the young worldlings who frequented the court, they were aghast, and a change came over them. All that the duke had done to win them, the splendid entertainments, the graces of the duchess, the charms of her ladies, were forgotten. In the ball-room they could see nothing but Death leaning on his scythe and with hollow eyes looking round for some new victim. Their past pleasures seemed a mockery to them. A brilliant representation had taken place: on a sudden the curtain fell, the lights were extinguished, and the most enthusiastic spectators, seized with terror, hastened to escape far from a place which appeared to run with blood. That murder, ‘in the night by torchlight, put all the city in great alarm,’ says a chronicler.

Amid all these cries of indignation, of contempt, of terror, there was a small group of firm men who saw the dawn of liberty piercing through the darkness of crime. The generous spirits who had received the Divine Word from France—Porral, Maison-Neuve, Vandel, Bernard, even Bonivard—took courage in their tears. ‘One single obstacle will check the duke,’ they said, ‘and that obstacle is God! God desires by means of the duke to chastise Geneva, not destroy it. The stripes that he inflicts are not for its death, but for its improvement. Yes! God, after punishing us with the rod of a father, will rise with the sword in his hand against those whose crimes he appears to permit.’ 351

Charles, perceiving the effect produced by the outrage he had committed, felt ill at ease at Geneva. Nor was that all; for, learning that a numerous French army was entering his states on one side, while the imperial army was advancing on the other, and that a terrible meeting might ensue, he alleged this motive for returning to Turin. Wishing, however, to secure his authority in Geneva, he sent for Hugues, whose patriotism he feared, reminded him of the scene just enacted at Bonne, and required him to promise, upon oath, that he would not take part in the affairs of the city. Hugues entered into the required engagement. 352Then Charles hastened to depart, and Bonivard said, with a meaning smile: ‘The duchess having crossed the Alps, the duke hastens after her—like a good little canary.’ 353

The Genevans breathed at last: the city was without either duke or bishop. Lévrier’s martyrdom, which had at first crushed them, now inflamed their courage. As a steel blade long bent returns back with a spring, so Geneva, suffering under a blow that seemed as if it would destroy her, rose up with energy. More than this; the empty place was soon filled. Help would come from heaven. The ancient imperial and episcopal city, not content with having set aside bishops and dukes, would within a few years place on the throne Him who exalteth nations. Then, ‘dwelling in the shadow of the Almighty,’ and sitting tranquilly at the foot of her beautiful mountains, Geneva will raise her head, crowned with a twofold liberty. 354

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The duke had no sooner departed than there was a general burst of indignation against him, and against the mamelukes who had delivered up the greatest of the citizens to his sword. Bernard Boulet, the city treasurer, was one of the proudest of these ducal partisans. He had built a fine house, where he gave splendid entertainments to his party and kept a good table, by which means he soon squandered away all his property. But unwilling to renounce his gay life, he clandestinely appropriated the property of the State, and still continued to entertain magnificently. ‘Boulet,’ said the huguenots, ‘thinks only of indulging with his friends in all kinds of pleasure, in drunkenness, and in voluptuousness. Foppish in dress, dainty at table, he has no thought for the hunger and nakedness of the poor. Dissipation, bad management, fraud, robbery make up his whole life.’ Boulet, who furnished no accounts, owed the city ‘at least 6,400 florins’ 355—a very large sum for those days. But they feared his influence and malice; and nobody was willing ‘to bell the cat.’ Syndic Richardet, a good patriot, courageous but hot-headed, entered the council one day determined to put an end to these manifest peculations. ‘I call upon the treasurer,’ he said, ‘to produce the accounts of his office.’ The embarrassed Boulet attempted to evade the question; but, being determined to make him give an account of his conduct, the syndic persisted. The mameluke, driven into a corner, exclaimed: ‘Are we to be governed by these huguenots ?’—‘He spoke thus from contempt,’ says Bonivard. The fiery Richardet could not restrain himself; exasperated because the treasurer insulted him at the very moment he was discharging the duties of his office, he acted after the style of Homer’s heroes, and, raising his syndic’s staff above the dishonest mameluke, dealt him such a blow that the staff flew to pieces. It must be remembered that in the middle ages deeds of violence were sometimes reckoned lawful. For instance, an old charter bore that if a respectable man or woman were insulted, every prud’homme who came up was permitted to punish such misconduct by one, two, or three blows; only the prud’homme was required to make oath afterwards that he had given the blows for the sake of peace. 356There was instantly a great commotion in the hall; the mameluke councillors uttered cries of anger; the huguenots protested that Richardet had acted without their approval; and the syndic, who was sincere and good at heart, frankly apologised. Throughout all the disturbance Boulet did not utter a word; he was secretly calculating the advantages he could derive from this assault, and was delighted to have suffered it. ‘He swallowed it as mild as milk,’ says Bonivard. 357Chance, he thought, favoured him, and had opportunely extricated him from a desperate position. What a providence in this violent act of the syndic! The greedy dishonest treasurer would put on the airs of a martyr; his fidelity to the duke, he would say, had drawn upon him this savage assault. He would excite Charles III. against Geneva; he would urge him to take the city by storm; and in the midst of all these agitations his accounts would be forgotten—which was the essential thing for him.