Chapter XIII

THE NIGHT OF JULY THIRTY-FIRST AT GENEVA.
(JULY 1534.)

[Sidenote: Effect Of Baudichon’s Imprisonment.]

By imprisoning Maisonneuve, the priests had desired to check the progress of the Gospel, but it had the contrary effect. The courage of the accused and the injustice of the accusers increased the determination of the Genevans. The work of the Reformation was not a work without fore-thought; it had been long preparing, and advanced step by step towards the goal by paths which the hand of God had traced for it. The rich harvests which were to cover the shores of Lake Leman and to feed so many hungry souls, were not to spring from the earth in a day; the soil had long been ploughed and dressed, the seed had been sown, and therefore the crop was so abundant. The Reformation was the fruit of a long travail: at one time the secret operations of divine influence, at another, deeds done by men in the light of day, was transforming by slow degrees a somewhat restless but still energetic and generous people.

The festival of Corpus Christi was approaching, and the catholics hoped by that imposing ceremony to bring back some of those who had left them; but their expectations were disappointed. The most enlightened and honorable men of Geneva had no longer any taste for these feasts—not because of their antiquity, but because they were in their opinion founded on serious errors, and shocked their enlightened sentiments. The thought that a wafer, consecrated by a priest, was about to be paraded through the city to receive divine honors, revolted evangelical Christians. They determined not to join in the procession, or to shut up their houses, but to work as on ordinary days. When the priests and their adherents heard of this, they imagined that the Lutherans intended attacking them during their progress; but, on being reassured, they took courage and the devout began to file off. There was not the least act of violence, but only a silent protest; many houses before which the procession passed were without hangings, and through the open windows ‘the Lutheran dames were seen in velvet hoods busily spinning with their distaffs or working with their needles.’ Vainly did the priests sing and the splendid cortège defile through the streets: the velvet-hooded ladies remained motionless. Gross insults would not have enraged the devotees so much. One of them seeing a window open on the ground-floor and a protestant lady filling her distaff, reached into the room, snatched away the distaff, struck her violently on the head with it, threw it into the mud, trampled on it, and disappeared among the crowd. The startled lady screamed out, and (says Sister Jeanne) nearly died of fright. Notwithstanding this act of violence, the protestants remained quiet. Everything helped the cause of Reform: neither the grotesque nor unseemly dances of the populace, nor the sanctimonious processions of the clergy, were able to paralyze in Geneva the power of the doctrine from on high.[591]

An act of a new convert still further increased the murmurs. When Louis Bernard threw off the surplice he returned to civil life: he soon became a member of the Two Hundred, and afterwards of the Executive Council. Being an upright man and desirous of leading a Christian life, he married a widow of good family, and Viret blessed their union. The marriage created a great sensation. ‘What!’ exclaimed the catholics, ‘priests and monks with wives!’ ‘Yes!’ rejoined the reformers, ‘you think it strange they should have lawful wives, but you were not surprised when they had unlawful wives, the practice was so general. What foxy consciences are yours! You confess to brushing off the dew with your tail as you crossed the meadows, but not of having stolen the poor man’s poultry!’ Bernard justified by his conduct the step that he had taken. The men who had been dissolute priests became good fathers,[592] and society was gainer by the exchange.

[Sidenote: Discussion Before The Council.]

But the priests did not think so. Master Jean, the vicar of St. Gervais, a zealous man and noisy talker, having heard of Bernard’s marriage, exclaimed from the pulpit: ‘Where is the discipline prescribed by the church, where are the commandments of the pope? Oh, horror! priests marry after they have taken the vow of chastity!’ The question of marriage and celibacy was discussed before the Council; the priest and Viret, who had given the nuptial benediction, were summoned to the Hôtel-de-ville. The reformer maintained that marriage is honorable to all men. St. Paul, when directing that the minister of the Lord should not have several wives, shows that we must not constrain him to have none at all, and if the apostle insists that he must be a good father, it follows evidently that he should be married. ‘Those who issue from the dens of the solitary and idle life called monkery or celibacy,’ said one of the reformers, ‘are like savages; while the government of a household is an apprenticeship for the government of the Church of God.’ The vicar supported his opinion by bad arguments,’ says the ‘Register,’ ‘and wandered far from the truth.’ ‘Do not corrupt the Gospel, or else we shall take proceedings against you,’ said the premier-syndic. The poor dumbfoundered vicar stammered out a few excuses and retired, promising to teach in future in conformity with their lordships’ instructions.[593]

But they had no sooner shut his mouth on the question of marriage, than he opened it on that of baptism. ‘Do these heretics imagine,’ he exclaimed, ‘that the Holy Ghost can descend into the heart by other channels than the priests?... They baptize in rooms, in gardens, without blowing upon the child to drive away the wicked one.... They are _ipso facto_ excommunicate.’

The independence of Church and State was not understood in the sixteenth century. Farel complained to the Council, and the priest was about to yield, when some laymen, irritated by the defeat of Rome, came to his assistance. ‘Are these heretics already giving us the law in Geneva?’ they said to the council. ‘Only the other day they were satisfied to speak, and now they want to hinder us from doing so. We demand that it be as permissible for Master Jean to preach as it is for Master Farel.’ The syndic replied frankly:—‘We have not forbidden the vicar to preach: on the contrary we order him to preach the Gospel.’[594] It was not then understood that to command a man to preach what he did not believe was more tyrannical than to silence him.

Farel, Viret, and the vicar were in attendance; they were led into the council chamber, and the discussion began immediately. ‘The Holy Ghost,’ said Farel, ‘can act without the aid of priests. It is faith in the power of Christ’s blood that cleanseth us from our sins, and baptism is the evidence of that absolution. But where have you read that it must be celebrated with oil, salt, and other rubbish?[595] ... I know very well that this strange trumpery is of ancient origin.... The devil very early began to indulge in heavy jokes, and all these baubles come from him. Let us put aside these pomps and shows that dazzle the eyes of the simple, but brutalize their understanding, and let us celebrate the rite of baptism simply, according to the Gospel form, with fair water, in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.’ The embarrassed vicar quoted the authority of the pope in his defence, and highly extolled the two swords that are in his hand. ‘That is an idle allegory,’ said the reformer, ‘and a sorry jest.... There are two powers indeed: one in the Church, the other in the State. The only power in the Church is the Word of Christ, and the only power in the State is the sword.’ That distinction gave much pleasure, and the secretary entered it on the minutes. An important transformation was going on: the civil power was lifting its head and beginning to brave that spiritual power which had humbled it for so long. The syndic kindly entreated Farel ‘to take it all in good part;’ but turning with severity towards the vicar, ordered him again ‘to preach in accordance with the truth.’ ‘Do you forbid me to preach any more?’ asked the priest, abashed. The syndic answered him a little harshly: ‘You are forbidden nothing, except lying.’ This marks a new phase of the Reformation in Geneva. The monks who remained faithful to St. Francis were alarmed in their convent at Rive, and said: ‘Let us make haste to carry away our altar-ornaments and jewels.’ ... The Council opposed this, and ordered those precious objects to be kept in safe custody.[596]

[Sidenote: Alarming Rumor.]

While the magistracy of Geneva held back from catholicism, the partisans of the pope in the surrounding country were preparing to support it. An alarming rumor had been circulating in the city for some days; and the vicar and the reformer had scarcely withdrawn, when several members of the Council expressed their fears. ‘The bishop, in concert with the duke, has formed the design of invading us,’ they said. ‘At a banquet, at which two hundred persons were present, a formidable conspiracy was planned against our liberties. Wherever you go, you hear nothing but threats against the city. Many of our fellow-citizens have gone out to join the enemy, and are preparing to attack us, with the gentry of the neighborhood.’ Captain-General Philippe was ordered ‘to be on the look-out,’ and many placed their hands and their lives at his disposal. It was true that Pierre de la Baume, having formed a new plot, had come to an understanding with the Genevese episcopals and the lords of Friburg; and quitting, not without reluctance, his delightful residence at Arbois, he had gone to Chambéry to concert measures with the duke. A Romish camarilla stimulated the two princes. The most fervid of the mamelukes, and of the lords of Savoy and of Vaud, had arranged a meeting for a hunting match at the foot of the Voirons, and there arrangements had been made for ‘hunting down’ the heresy of Geneva. ‘Every one there is running after this new word,’ they told the duke. ‘There is but one means of safety left, and that is, to destroy the city and the heretics by making war upon them, and then restoring the prelate by force.’ Forthwith the plan was arranged ‘of the most dangerous treason that had yet been aimed at Geneva.’ The duke hoped to become master of the city, and to re-establish the papal power in it. He had no doubt that catholicity, far from being jealous of his conquest, would be eager to applaud it. To insure success, he determined to ask the help of France, and to that end applied to the Cardinal de Tournon. It was proposed that Pierre de la Baume should resign his see to one of the duke’s sons, the young Count of Bresse, and a handsome compensation was offered him. Maisonneuve, the captain of the Lutherans, a man so generally dreaded, being then in prison at Lyons, it was desirable to take advantage of his absence, and the last day of July was fixed for the execution of the enterprise.[597]

The Councils of Geneva, in great alarm, sent John Lullin and Francis Favre to Berne to ask the advice and assistance of those powerful allies. At the same time they ordered the bells of the Convent of St. Victor and others to be cast into cannon, and directed the captains of the city to take the necessary measures for putting it into a state of defence. And, lastly, wishing to deprive the enemies of Geneva of every pretext, the Council determined to punish those who had ‘ill-advisedly broken the images of the convent at Rive;’ and declared, that _though such images ought to be taken down and destroyed, according to God’s law_, yet ‘those persons’ ought not to have done it without order and permission, because it was _an act pertaining to the magistracy_. In consequence of this, six men, of whom little was known, were imprisoned on the 26th July.[598]

[Sidenote: Enthusiasm In Geneva.]

Great was the enthusiasm in Geneva. The citizens were ready to give up everything ‘to follow the right path,’ and the Reformation still advanced, notwithstanding the great danger with which it was threatened. Some even chose this moment to confess their faith. The last Sunday in July, a few hours before the day when the enemy intended to enter Geneva, a member of the Dominican order, that pillar of the papacy, ‘after the bell had bidden the people to the sermon,’ appeared before the congregation, took off his monastic dress, went into the pulpit, and then, ‘like a madman,’ prayed God to have pity on him. He bewailed himself, asked pardon of his listeners for having ‘lived so ill in times past, and so monstrously deceived everybody.’ ‘I have preached indulgences,’ he continued, ‘I have praised the mass, I have extolled the sacraments and ceremonies of the Church. Now I renounce them all as idle things. I desire to find but one thing—the grace of Christ crucified for me.’ After which he preached an heretical sermon.[599]

These conversions increased the dangers of Geneva, by exciting the wrath of the catholics. Four days after the touching confession of the Dominican the projected plot was to be carried out. The Savoyard troops, assembling at a little distance from the city, were to approach it under cover of the darkness. One detachment would arrive by the lake and the tower guard, bribed by ten crowns, would let the boats pass without firing on them. Within the city, more than three hundred foreigners had entered separately and stealthily, and were hidden in catholic houses. In the middle of the night F. du Crest was to go to the Molard with fire-arms and hoist a red flag. The firing of a heavy culverine would be the signal for the priests to come to the support of their friends. Certain episcopals would mount to the roofs of their houses with lighted torches to summon the foreign troops to approach. The catholics of Geneva and their allies would then leave their houses; three of the city gates were to be forced by a locksmith of their party, the troops would enter, and Genevans and strangers would advance shouting: ‘Long live our prince, monseigneur of Geneva!’ The friends of independence and reform, thus caught between two fires, would be unable to make any resistance. Then would begin the executing of the judgment of God: if it had been waited for long, it would only be the more terrible now. The pious soldiers of the Church would fall upon the Lutherans and put them to death. The city would be purged of all those seeds of the gospel and liberty which were choking, within its walls, the ancient and glorious plants of feudalism and popery. Finally to complete their work, the conquerors would share the property of the vanquished, which the bishop had in anticipation confiscated for their benefit, and Geneva, forever bound to Rome, would thus become its slave and never its rival.[600]

On the 29th and 30th July all began to move round the city. On the north, the Marshal of Burgundy, the bishop’s brother, was to descend into the valley of the Leman, with six thousand men, raised in imperial Burgundy. On the south, the Duke of Savoy had obtained permission of the king of France to enlist in Dauphiny, ‘persons experienced in war.’ Numerous soldiers—some coming by land, others by water—were expected from Chablais, Faucigny, Gex, and Vaud. A galley and other boats had been fitted out near Thonon, to which place the artillery of Chillon had been removed. Several corps were marching on Geneva. The bishop, who was anything but brave, did not wish to leave Chambéry; but the duke, to encourage him, gave him a body-guard of two hundred well-armed men, and Pierre de la Baume quitted, not without alarm, the capital of Savoy early in the morning of the 30th July, and halted at Lé-luiset, a village situated about two leagues from Geneva, where he intended to wait in safety the issue of the affair.

The corps nearest to Geneva appeared. Savoyard troops under the command of Mauloz, castellan of Gaillard, reached their station in front of the St. Antoine Gate. Armed men from Chablais advanced along the Thonon road as far as Jargonnant, in front of the Rive gate. Other bands prepared to enter by the gate on the side of Arve and Plainpalais. Barks and boats filled with soldiers arrived in the waters that bathed the city. The army that was to cross the Jura, and other corps, did not appear; but the assembled forces were sufficient for the coup-de-main.[601]

[Sidenote: Levrat, The Traitor.]

While these manœuvres were going on without, everything seemed going on well within. The man entrusted with the care of the artillery, and who was called Le Bossu (the Hunchback), had been bribed. In the evening Jean Levrat, ‘one of the most active of the traitors,’ had prowled about his dwelling, and the keeper, not wishing to be compromised, had handed him through a loophole the keys of the tower of Rive, where the cannons had been stored. Levrat and his accomplices spiked several, and Le Bossu had filled others with hay. The blacksmith had counterfeited the keys of the city, and made iron implements to break down the gates.[602] The most lively emotion prevailed in the houses of all the catholics. Party walls had been broken through, so that they could go from one to another and concert matters secretly. Michael Guillet, Thomas Moine, Jacques Malbuisson, De Prato, Jean Levrat, and the Sire de Pesmes, went to and fro watching that no man shrank back.

Throughout the whole of the 30th of July the Councils and the reformed remained in complete ignorance of the blow that was impending. They knew of the threats, but did not believe there was any danger, so that in the evening of the 30th they had gone to rest as quietly as usual. In the early part of the night a stranger desired to speak with the premier-syndic on urgent business. Michael Sept received him. ‘I am from Dauphiny,’ said the man: ‘I am a hearer of the Word of God, and should grieve to see Geneva and the Gospel brought to destruction. The duke’s army is marching upon your city; a number of soldiers are already assembled all round you, and very early this morning the bishop left Chambéry to make his entrance among you.’ It was a fellow-countryman of Farel and Froment that undertook to save Geneva. But was there still time? The premier-syndic immediately communicated the intelligence to his colleagues, and it was resolved to arrest some of those who were always ready to make common cause with the enemy outside. The syndics questioned them, confronted them with one another, and gradually saw the horrible plot unravelled, of which they had until that moment been ignorant.[603] All the citizens upon whom they could rely were called to arms. It was not yet midnight.

The episcopals, who had not gone to bed, waited in excitement for the appointed hour. A great number of canons and priests had assembled in the house of the canon of Brentena, Seigneur of Menthon, belonging to an illustrious family of Savoy. They congratulated one another that the plot had been so well arranged, and nothing in that assembly of ecclesiastics was talked of but torches, banners, and artillery. In a short time, however, one of their party came in, and told them that the huguenots were arming everywhere. The reverend members of the chapter ran to the window, and saw with affright a numerous patrol marching by. The alarm spread; not an episcopal dared venture out: they hid the red flag, the signal for the murder of the huguenots. One hope only remained; the troops round Geneva were amply sufficient to secure the triumph of the bishop.[604]

[Sidenote: Waiting For The Signal.]

And indeed the number of soldiers round the city was very great. Playing on the word _Geneva, gens nova_, the leaders had chosen for their watchword this cruel phrase: _Nous ferons ici gent nouvelle_,[605] that is to say, they would extirpate the evangelicals from Geneva and replace them by catholic Savoyards. They waited for the appointed signal and turned their eyes to the roofs of the houses from which the torches were to be waved. They fancied that some had been seen, but had soon disappeared. While the anxious officers were asking what was to be done, some of the soldiers noticed a simple-looking boy walking about on the hill, peering innocently about him, but constantly getting nearer to the city gates. He was taken before Mauloz the castellan and M. de Simon, another of the leaders, who asked him what he was doing there at such an hour of the night. The boy, who seemed greatly embarrassed, answered, ‘I am looking for the mare I lost.’ It was not the case.

Three of the best citizens of Geneva, Jean d’Arlod, auditor, the zealous Étienne d’Adda, and Pontet, happening to be at La Roche, three or four leagues from Geneva, in the evening, had heard the enterprise talked of, and had immediately mounted their horses in order to reach the gates before the enemy.[606] Pushing rapidly along the by-roads, they stopped at a farm-house a short distance from the city, where they learnt that the Savoyard troops were already under the walls. D’Arlod directed one of the farm-servants to go and see if they could enter. M. de Simon and Mauloz the castellan, impatient to know the cause of the delay, determined to make use of this poor boy, of whose innocence they felt no doubts. ‘Hark ye!’ they said to him; ‘go and see whether the Rive and St. Antoine gates are open.’ The lad, who was very unwilling to serve as a scout to the Savoyards, replied: ‘Oh! I should be afraid they would kill me.’ At that instant Mauloz, whose attention was divided between the youth and the houses on which the torches were to be displayed, exclaimed, ‘There is one!’ A brilliant light appeared over the city: the whole force hailed it with joy, and the two captains could not turn away their eyes. The light appeared and disappeared, returned, and was again eclipsed, and every time it came in sight, strange to say, it looked more elevated. Higher and higher it rose; already it overtopped the tallest chimneys. There was something extraordinary about it, and the Savoyards began to grow uneasy. ‘Why, can it be so?’ said those who knew Geneva; ‘the light is ascending the spire of St. Pierre!... Yes, it is so ... that is where the main watch of the city is stationed in time of danger.’ At last the light ceased to move; it halted at the top of the spire, which was built on the crest of the hill. It thus brooded over the city, and seemed turned upon the Savoyard army, like the glaring eye of the lion shining through the midnight darkness of the desert. Then a panic terror seized the soldiers of Charles III.; their features were disturbed, their hearts quaked. Mauloz, who had kept his eyes fixed on the threatening apparition, turned in despair towards M. de Simon, who was already moving off, and exclaimed: ‘We are discovered: we are betrayed! We shall not enter Geneva to-night.’ The young messenger, finding that nobody took heed of him, ran off to the farm to tell D’Arlod and his friends what had taken place.[607]

[Sidenote: Retreat Of The Savoyards.]

Yet the lion’s eye still glared above the city. ‘The sugar-plums are all ready for our supper,’ said the men-at-arms.[608] Every one thought of retiring: Mauloz and Simon gave orders for the retreat. As day was beginning to break, the Genevese look-outs stationed on the tower saw the Savoyards filing off in the direction of Castle Gaillard, with drums beating and colors flying.

The Genevan catholics were in suspense no longer: their enterprise had miscarried. They were stupefied and furious against their allies. One of them, Francis Regis, said with a great oath: ‘We are ruined and undone: those gentlemen are not worth a straw. We made the signals, everything was in good order, but the gentry deceived us.’[609] As for the bishop, he was more frightened than disappointed. When the terrible beacon shone out from the temple of St. Pierre’s, some men, commissioned to keep him informed of what was going on, had started off full gallop, and reported to him the ominous words of the ferocious Mauloz: ‘We are betrayed!’ Instantly the poor prelate mounted his horse, and rode hastily away to join the duke.

When the sun rose, not an enemy was to be seen about the city. The Genevans could not believe their eyes: the events of that memorable night seemed almost miraculous, and they were transported with joy, like men who have been saved from death. All the morning the streets were filled with people; they exchanged glances, they shook hands with each other; many blessed God; some could not believe that their catholic fellow-citizens were cognizant of the plot. One little incident removed every doubt. As some citizens happened to be passing the house of the keeper of the artillery, they heard the shrill voice of a woman screaming in great emotion: ‘Ha! traitor! you are betraying me as you betrayed the city!’ ... A man replied with abuse and blows; the screams of the wretched creature became louder and louder, and the coarse voice of another woman was mingled with hers. It was the Bossu, his wife, and servant: the keeper of the artillery had been surprised by his wife in flagrant infidelity. The huguenots, hearing the uproar, stopped and entered the house. ‘Yes,’ screamed the wife louder than ever; ‘yes, traitor, you gave Jean Levrat the keys through the loop-hole.’ Levrat, the Bossu, and the locksmith were immediately arrested.[610]

The leaders of the conspiracy remained, as usual, at liberty. Skulking in their houses, Guillet, De Prato, Perceval de Pesmes, the two Du Crests, the two Regis, and many others, knew well that they merited death more than Portier; and, affrighted like the hare in its form, which pricks up its ears to listen for the pursuing huntsman, they started at the slightest noise, and fancied every moment that the syndics or their officers were coming. As no one appeared, they formed a desperate resolution: disguising themselves in various ways, they left their houses and escaped; ‘and never returned to the city again,’ says Froment. The bishop’s conspiracy with Portier and the Pennets had forced several catholics to leave the council; the project of a night attack obliged many to leave Geneva. Every effort made by catholicism to rise helped it to descend, and every blow aimed at the Reformation for its destruction raised it still higher. The citizens remarked to one another, reports a contemporary, who has recorded the words: ‘It was God who brought down the hearts of our enemies, both without and within, so that they could not make use of their strength.’[611]

[Sidenote: Vigilance And Meditation.]

Meanwhile Geneva was not at ease. The Marshal of Burgundy and the Governor of Chablais had not appeared; and the enemy might have withdrawn only to wait for these powerful reinforcements. All the citizens were called to arms. ‘Throughout that week a strong guard was kept up, and the gates of the city were closed.’ As the episcopals had often had recourse to the bells to summon their partisans, ‘it was forbidden to ring the church-bells either day or night.’ A silence, accompanied with meditation and vigilance, prevailed through the city. The inhabitants were ready to sacrifice their lives, and showed their resolution by a deep earnestness, and not by idle boasts. The preachers would converse with the soldiers, speaking familiarly to them of _the good fight_, and the soldiers never grew tired of listening to them. ‘What a new way of making war,’ said many. ‘In old times the soldiers used to have dissolute women with them at their posts, but now they have preachers, and instead of debauchery and filthy language, every thing is turned to good.’[612]

Could such generous zeal save the city from the attacks of Savoy supported by France, Friburg, Burgundy, and the mamelukes? There were men who shook their heads with sorrow and ‘lived in fear and despondency.’ But ‘a friend sticketh closer than a brother.’ On the morning after the enterprise, a delegate from Lausanne arrived in Geneva, and although the Duke had given orders that the Estates of Vaud should make common cause with him, the messenger said: ‘We are ready, brethren, to send you a hundred arquebusiers if you want them.’ Neuchâtel made a similar offer. Berne commissioned Francis Nägeli the treasurer, the banneret Weingarten, and two other citizens, to exhort the Duke and Marshal of Burgundy to desist from hostilities. The Swiss cantons, assembled at Baden, forwarded a similar message to Charles III.

The partisans of the pope and of the bishop saw that as their enterprise had miscarried, their cause was lost. The leaders had escaped at first: now the flight became general. Even the friends of the Genevese franchises began to leave the city; it was, therefore, natural that the fanatics should depart to swell the ranks of the mamelukes. They took with them all they could carry, and used various stratagems to get out of the city, stealing away cautiously by night. Some took refuge on the left shore of the lake; a greater number in the castle of Peney, on the right bank of the Rhone, whence they kept the Genevese population continually on the alert. Their wives and children, left behind in the city, held secret interviews with them at the foot of the steep cliffs which line the banks of the river, and told them all the news. No Genevan citizen could start for Lyons without the refugees at Peney being informed of it; they were always on the look-out for travellers. It was a strange phenomenon, of which history presents, however, more than one example, this opposition of the papists and feudalists to civil and religious liberty degenerating into brigandage.[613]

The flight of the episcopalian laity destroyed the power of the clergy, whose support they were, and made the reformers masters of the situation. Geneva was resolved to keep within her walls none but those who were ready to shed their blood for her. One night when the drum called citizens to arms a timid man bade his wife say he was absent: some of his neighbors, however, forced their way into his chamber and found him hidden in bed, pretending to have the fever: he shook, indeed, but it was with fear. The coward was banished from the city for life, under pain of being flogged if he returned: a year later, however, he was indulgently readmitted, ‘because it is not given to every man to have the courage of a Cæsar,’ says the ‘Register’; but he was always looked upon as an alien. Courage was at that time one of the qualifications necessary for Genevese citizenship.[614]

[Sidenote: Frightened Nuns.]

While the mamelukes were indulging in highway robbery without the city, the weaker members of the episcopal party who still remained within it were living in fear. Their persons, their worship, their convents were respected: not a hair of their heads was touched; but they trembled lest the outrages of the refugees at Peney should excite the huguenots to take their revenge. The nuns especially were in perpetual alarm. One night, between eleven and twelve o’clock, the sisters of St. Claire were startled from their slumbers by a loud knocking at the door: scared at the noise, they listened with beating hearts. Then other knocks were heard. Faint and trembling, they crept from their beds. The huguenots are surely coming to avenge on them the perfidious night of the 31st of July! ‘The heretics,’ they whispered one to another, ‘have broken down the gates of the convent.’ The nuns ascribing guilty intentions to them, ran to the abbess in dismay: ‘My dear children,’ said she, ‘fight valiantly for the love of God.’ They waited, but nobody came.

The youngest of the nuns, who had been at service overnight with the rest of the community, and made drowsy by the long prayers, had fallen into a sound sleep; the under-superior had locked her in the church without observing her. About eleven o’clock the unlucky sister awoke: she looked round, and could not make out where she was.... At last she recognized the chapel; but the darkness, the loneliness, the place itself—all combined to frighten her. She fancied she could see the dead taking advantage of that silent hour to quit their graves and wander through the church.... Her limbs refused to move. At length she summoned up courage and rushed to the door. It was locked. In her fright, she gave it a violent blow. It was this which woke the sisters. Then she listened, and as no one came, she knocked again three times, as loud as she could.

While this was going on, the abbess prepared to receive the wolves who were about to devour her innocent lambs. She first desired to know if all her flock were present, and to her great anguish discovered that one was missing. Then another knock, louder than all the rest, was heard. ‘Let us go forth,’ said the abbess, ‘and enter the church, for it will be better for us to be before God than in the dormitory.’ They descended the stairs; the abbess put the key into the lock, opened the door ... and found before her the young nun, who, pale as death fainted away at her feet.[615]

The tales that men took pleasure in circulating, and sometimes even printing, about the reformers and the reformed, about Calvin and Luther in particular, often had no more reality than the imaginations of the nuns of St. Claire as to the designs of the huguenots, which had given the poor girls such a terrible fright; and they were less innocent.

Footnote 591:

Registre du Conseil du 2 Juin, 1534.—La sœur Jeanne, _Levain du
Calvinisme_, pp. 89, 90.

Footnote 592:

Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, pp. 127-129; MS. de Gautier.

Footnote 593:

Registre du Conseil du 8 Juin, 1534.—MS. de Gautier; La sœur Jeanne,
_Levain du Calvinisme_, p. 88.

Footnote 594:

Registres du Conseil des 20 et 24 Juillet, 1534.—MS. de Gautier.

Footnote 595:

‘Aliis unguentis.’—Registres du Conseil du 24 Juillet, 1534.

Footnote 596:

Registres du Conseil des 30 Juin et 24 Juillet, 1534.—MS. de Gautier.

Footnote 597:

Registres du Conseil des 23 Juin et 7 Juillet, 1534.—Froment, _Gestes
de Genève_, p. 123; Ruchat, iii. p. 334.—MS. de Gautier.

Footnote 598:

Registres du Conseil des 24, 26 Juin, 17, 26, 27, 28 Juillet, 1534.

Footnote 599:

La Sœur Jeanne, _Levain du Calvinisme_, p. 94.

Footnote 600:

_Chron._ MS. de Roset, liv. iii. ch. xxvii.—MS. de Gautier.—Froment,
_Gestes de Genève_, pp. 123, 124.—Procès aux Archives.—Gaberel, Pièces
Justificatives.—Papiers Galiffe, communiqués par M. A. Roget, ii. 115.

Footnote 601:

_Chron._ de Roset.—Registre du Conseil des 17, 28, 31 Juillet,
1534.—Ruchat, iii. p. 325.—Vulliemin, _Histoire de la Suisse_, xi. p.
89.—Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, pp. 123-125.

Footnote 602:

Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 123.

Footnote 603:

Our account of the manner in which the plot was discovered is founded
on the testimony of many witnesses. Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p.
125; Roset (_Chron._ MS. liv. iii. ch. xxvii.), and the minutes or
Register of the Council which were drawn up by Roset’s father. Other
versions, differing from this narrative, do not appear to us to repose
upon such solid foundations.

Footnote 604:

Registre du Conseil du 31 Juillet, 1534.—_Chron._ MS. de Roset.

Footnote 605:

‘Faciemus hic gentem novam.’—_Geneva restituta_, p. 73. ‘We will make
a new people here.’

Footnote 606:

Registre du Conseil _in loco_.

Footnote 607:

Registre du Conseil du 25 Janvier, 1537. It was not until then that
D’Arlod related to the Council of Two Hundred what had happened to him
three years before. _Chron._ MS. de Roset, liv. iii. ch. xxvii.

Footnote 608:

The soldiers played upon the word _dragée_—which means small-shot as
well as sweetmeats.

Footnote 609:

Déposition de Jacques Maguin. Papiers Galiffe. A. Roget, ii. p. 116.

Footnote 610:

Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, p. 125. Registre du Conseil du 31
Juillet, 1534. _Chron._ MS. de Roset.

Footnote 611:

Michel Roset, MS. Froment, _Gestes de Genève_, pp. 123-125. Registre
du Conseil du 7 Août, 1534.

Footnote 612:

La sœur Jeanne, _Levain du Calvinisme_, p. 92. Froment, _Gestes de
Genève_, p. 126. MS. de Gautier.

Footnote 613:

Registre du 30 Septembre, 1534. The ruins of the castle of Peney were
still to be seen a few years ago near Satigny, between the Lyons and
Geneva railway and the Rhone.

Footnote 614:

Registres du Conseil des 4, 12, 13 Août, 4 Septembre, 1534: 27
Janvier, 1535.

Footnote 615:

La Sœur Jeanne, _Levain du Calvinisme_, pp. 92-94.