III.
Notwithstanding the unhappy issue of the conference of Poissy, the courage of the Reformed party rose greatly, because they had had the advantage of setting forth their faith before the chiefs of the kingdom and the princes of the Roman (Catholic) Church. It was no longer possible to accuse them of infamous crimes, or to give them up without form of law to the sword of the executioner. The timid and the undecided flew to the standard of the Reformation, and a movement, like those we have already described on other occasions, was once more seen.
Some important towns, Milhau, Sainte Foy, Lacaune, and hundreds of villages cut themselves off at one stroke from (Roman) Catholicism. One pastor named Beaulieu announced to Farel that three hundred parishes of L’Agenois had put down the mass. “I have heard persons worthy of belief say,” he wrote, “that if there could be found on this very day four thousand, or even six thousand ministers of the Lord, they would all be employed.” Admitting that there is some exaggeration in this, the progress would still have been considerable.
The aged Farel returned for some time to his native country, and passing by Grenoble, exhorted the faithful to hold their meetings in the open air. Another preacher of great reputation at Geneva, Pierre Viret, came to Nismes in the month of October, 1561, and the day after his arrival, eight thousand auditors crowded round the foot of his pulpit.
He was suffering from the effects of two attempts at assassination. A female domestic, gained by some monks, had tried to poison him at Geneva; and a priest of the Pays de Vaud, having attacked him on the highway, had so beaten him that he had been left for dead upon the spot. “To look at me,” he wrote at a later period, referring to his first sermon at Nismes, “I appeared like a dry anatomy covered with skin, who had taken my bones there to be buried; so much so, that even those who were not of our religion, but strongly opposed to it, pitied me and said: ‘What is this poor man come to do in our country? Has he come here to die?’ And I have even heard that, when I ascended the pulpit for the first time, many seeing me feared that I should faint before I could finish my sermon.”
He however rendered important services to the Reformation at Nismes, Lyons, Montpellier, and Orthez. He preached, according to the testimony of his contemporaries, with a sweetness and a charm which were peculiarly his own. It was not the vehemence of Farel, nor the depth of Calvin, but something unctuous and penetrating, which never wearied his hearers. Pierre Viret presided in 1563 at the national synod of Lyons. He has left some controversial writings in a lively and ingenious style, copies of which appear to have been well thumbed by the hands of the people.
In this great religious movement, new Catholic churches were invaded; for in several places there no longer remained either priests to celebrate the old worship, or believers to attend. And as crucifixes, images of saints, relics, and other objects, which the Reformation regarded as monuments of idolatry, were found in these churches, they were broken or cast into the fire. These devastations are to be deplored; Pierre Viret and all wise men opposed them. But how could it be otherwise? The Reformers but imitated the early Christians without knowing it, and from the mere force of circumstances. “On every side,” says M. de Châteaubriand in his narrative of the fourth century, “temples were demolished, a loss ever to be lamented for the arts; but the material monument fell, as it always will, beneath the intellectual force of an idea, which has made its way into the conviction of the human race.”[40]
Meetings of eight thousand, fifteen thousand, some historians say forty thousand, were held at Paris. To avoid tumults, they were held outside the town. The people went out and came back by several gates. One of the usual preachers was Theodore de Bèze, whom the queen-mother had invited to stay in France, since his presence might be required. He blessed a court marriage between M. de Rohan and Mademoiselle de Barbançon, in the presence of the queen of Navarre and of the prince of Condé, which inspired greater confidence in the faithful of Paris. The Reformation was decidedly taking a hold in public and official acts.
The meetings were divided into two great sections. The one celebrated its worship outside the gate of Saint Antoine, at Popincourt; the other in the faubourg Saint Marceau, in a place called Le Patriarche. Several ministers preached at the same time before multitudes of hearers. The women placed themselves in the centre, then came the men on foot, next some men on horseback, and lastly, soldiers or bowmen, who protected the unarmed crowd.
It is difficult, on account of the contradictory testimony of contemporaries, to calculate exactly the respective forces of the two communions. Theodore de Bèze says, that if the Reformed had determined either at Paris or in the provinces to employ all their means of action, they could have maintained the contest with a prospect of success. The Cardinal de Sainte Croix, a sort of titled spy entertained by Rome in France from 1561 to 1565, reports in his letters that even the members of the council were uncertain as to the numerical force of the parties, and concluded his last letter by saying that the kingdom was half Huguenot.
Admiral Coligny, on the invitation of the queen-mother, presented her with a list of more than two thousand five hundred churches, which demanded liberty of religion, and placed the persons and the wealth of the Reformed at the disposal of the king. He referred to flocks united in congregations, and administered to by regular pastors. To arrive at an exact estimate, it would be necessary to add the great mass of new believers, who had not yet been able to organize themselves according to the rules of discipline.
A letter which, it is said, was written by the Chancellor l’Hospital, some days before the conference of Poissy, and sent to the pope Pius IV. from the king, contained the following curious indications: “The fourth part of this kingdom is separated from the communion of the Church; and this fourth part is composed of gentlemen, of the principal citizens, and of those of the lower classes, who have seen the world, and are accustomed to bear arms, so that the separated lack not for strength. Neither are they deficient in counsel, for they have with them more than three-fourths of the men of letters. They have no want of money to carry on their affairs, having on their side a great proportion of the large and good houses, both of the nobility and of the Third Estate.”
In raising the number of the Reformed, in this document, to a fourth of the population, it is probable that the discontented and undecided were included, in order to render the pontiff more tractable as to projects of accommodation. But those historians, who pretend that the Calvinists formed at this time but a tenth of the population, must fall into a far more serious error, if we reflect that this minority sustained long and bloody wars against the (Roman) Catholics in every part of the kingdom, and always compelled them to consent to peace. The tenth part of the kingdom could not have held out so long against the other nine.
At Paris, the markets, the brotherhoods, the workmen, all the smaller classes, in a word, preserved their attachment to the old worship. The better order of citizens were divided; but the majority continued to profess (Roman) Catholicism. The greater number of the gentry, on the contrary, had adopted the Reformed faith, or were inclined to favour it. After the Guises and the court, it was Paris that saved the Romish church in France.
The position of the Reformed had become false and insupportable in every way, under the control of the Edict of July. This edict, which tolerated domestic gatherings and forbade public meetings, could not be carried into effect. The new believers, wherever they were numerous, necessarily overturned the barrier of the law; and on the other hand the (Roman) Catholic populace, excited by the priests, or carried away by their own fanaticism, were committing the greatest atrocities. They bathed in blood at Tours, Sens, and Cahors. Even at Paris, a conflict—known as the mutiny of Saint Médard—broke out. Order, rule, and authority were at an end.
Measures of restraint became necessary. The cardinals and bishops, true to their spirit of persecution, counselled the expulsion of all the preachers from the kingdom, and the extermination of those who should resist; but Catherine de Medicis and L’Hospital answered that such a course would instantly lead to civil war. Only one thing appeared feasible to the chancellor—namely, to give a legal sanction to the public meetings of the Calvinists, under certain conditions.
Hence the Edict of January, 1562, was deliberated and adopted in a solemn assembly of the Notables. L’Hospital then, for the first time, developed the idea of the co-existence of the two communions. He declared that if the king should side entirely with one party, he must at once raise an army to crush the other, and that it would be difficult to make the soldiers fight against their fathers, brothers, sons, or dearest friends. “The question is not,” he said, “about settling religion, but the common weal; for many may be citizens, who are not Christians. Even an excommunicated person does not cease to be a citizen, and we may live at peace with those who are of different opinions, as we see in the same family, where those who are (Roman) Catholics do not the less live in peace with, and love those, who are of the new religion.”
These were the principal provisions of the Edict of January. Those of the Reformed, who had seized churches and ecclesiastical property, were ordered to restore them without delay. It was forbidden to destroy the images, to break the crosses, or to commit any other act, which might give occasion for scandal. It was also forbidden to meet in the interior of towns by night or by day, but authority was given to assemble outside the gates, and to preach, pray, and perform other religious exercises. No one was allowed to go armed to the assemblies, gentlemen excepted, whilst officers of the government were to be admitted whenever they chose to be present.
One clause, which marks the spirit of the epoch, was to the effect, that the ministers were ordered to swear before the civil magistrates, that they would preach in conformity to the Word of God and the Nicene Creed, “in order” said the edict, “not to fill our subjects with new heresies.” The pastors did not complain of this; for they saw a barrier in this obligation against the invasion of doctrines opposed to their own confession of faith.
The Edict of January answered better to the wants of Paris and of the northern or central provinces, than to those of the south. How could whole cities go and worship outside their walls? and to what purpose was it to restore churches, which, for want of (Roman) Catholics, must remain closed? However, Theodore de Bèze and his colleagues, while confessing that more might have been expected, invited the faithful, in the name of God, to observe the edict, and their advice was generally listened to. The religious edifices were given up; the tithes were paid to the priests; and the Reformed now busied themselves only in peacefully organizing their flocks under the protection of the laws.
Not so was it, however, in the opposite camp. The Guises had refused to assist at the assembly of the Notables; and Anne de Montmorency only went to protest against the new decree. The Parliaments of Bordeaux, of Toulouse, Rouen, and Grenoble, registered the edict without difficulty. The Parliament of Dijon, on the contrary, under the influence of the Duke d’Aumale, brother of the Cardinal de Lorraine, met it with a formidable refusal. The Parliament of Paris gave way only after several letters of command had been issued, and added this clause: “In consideration of the urgent necessity, without approving the new religion, and until it be otherwise ordered!” This was in effect, while accepting a law of toleration, to announce the return of persecution.
Notwithstanding this resistance, matters had become more endurable, and the public peace might have been gradually restored, but that the defection of Anthony de Bourbon, lieutenant-general of the kingdom, opened the gate to civil war and the most frightful disasters.