In 1414, notwithstanding De Brogny’s advanced age, he repaired to Constance, at the period when John Huss had been deluded thither by the faithless Emperor Sigismund’s safe-conduct, to defend his doctrine before the assembled council. He presided it several times, had daily and nightly conferences with Sigismund, and when Huss had been cast into a dungeon and doomed to recant what were termed his errors, or to die at the stake, the cardinal, compassionating his misfortunes, visited him often in his cell, and implored as well as reasoned with him. It was in vain, for the reformer’s firmness was not to be shaken. Conducted to the place of his torture, (which is still shown at Constance,) and seeing a female fanatic hurrying forward to cast her faggot on the pile, he exclaimed with the calmness of a philosophical spectator, “Oh sancta simplicitas!” and when he had ascended it, and the executioner, to spare him the sight, applied his torch to that part to which his back was turned, he said, “You may light it before my eyes; if I had feared fire, I should not be here now.” Even when the flames closed round his tall figure, his voice was heard from the midst of them chanting a psalm.
It would be too long to tell you what monasteries the Cardinal De Brogny founded, and what churches received his donations. You will be more interested in hearing that he bequeathed four hundred golden florins as marriage portions to poor maidens in the county of Geneva; a larger sum to the widows and orphans of Annecy; and that, possessor of forty benefices, he spent their revenues on public works and the care of the poor. A rule of his house fed thirty mendicants daily, and a codicil of his will ordered that this custom should be continued an entire year after his death. On his return from Constance, he visited his birthplace, the village of Brogny, and, assembling in his father’s cottage all the old men of the district, mostly companions of his boyhood, he dined in their company, and, inquiring into their affairs, provided for their future comfort.
He died at Rome, aged 84, and was buried at Geneva. Bonnivard saw his statue on the tomb, afterwards thrown down by the Reformers; and a later writer says it is a pity they did so, as one would have rejoiced to see the features of a “modest man of genius and a tolerant cardinal.”
CHAPTER XII.
Arrival of friends—Excursion to Chamouny—The Voiron mountain—Its monastery—The babes in the wood—Old castle of Faucigny—Its last possessor—Her rights over Dauphiny bequeathed to Savoy—Long war with France—Bonneville—Cluses—Wretched inhabitants—The baronial capital in the time of the old lords—Cavern of La Balme—The village of Arache, and Falquet—The Nant d’Arpenas—Sallenches—Mont Blanc—The lake of Chède filled up—Pont Pelissier—Les Motets—The Glacier des Bossons—Evening—A tranquil night—Morning cavalcade—My guide—The Montanvert—Fontaine du Caillet—Source of the Aveiron—The avalanche—Mer de Glace—Passage of cattle—Priory of Chamouny founded in eleventh century—The Grands Mulets on Mont Blanc—Character of the inhabitants of Chamouny—Return—Versoix destined by Louis the Fourteenth for Geneva’s rival—Coppet—The monument—Old castle of Wufflens—Bertha—Morges—Lausanne—Cathedral containing tomb of Duke Amedée and Bernard de Menthon—The Faucon—The fat innkeeper abandoned—Vevay—Trois Couronnes.
Since I last wrote we have made a very delightful excursion, even though Fanny was no party concerned; for our friends joining us, though only for a few days, and anxious to make a flying visit to Chamouny, we determined on accompanying them, and recommending our four-footed companions, both, but particularly Fanny, to the whole establishment, including Monsieur Dejean’s sister, we set forth; all eight packed in one of his heavy carriages and drawn by four of his heavy horses. It was the 3rd of August, and a burning day. Just before the road enters Savoy, (as it nears the Salève on the right hand and the Voiron on the left, and beyond the valley through which flows the small river Foron, you see Mont Blanc and its glaciers,) the country loses the tamer, cultivated beauty of the environs of Geneva, and becomes wild and grand. At the summit of the Voiron, in a desert and savage retreat, damp and cold, and usually deep in snow, there was once a monastery. I read somewhere that a monk, questioned as to his sufferings, said they were such as sometimes to drive him to desperation, but that the Virgin gave him strength and would reward him in Heaven with torrents of felicity for the earthly torments he endured! Not long ago this mountain was the scene of a new edition of the babes in the wood.
One stormy October two young boys were at play about four in the evening, chasing each other over the snow. Night closed in, and they lost their way in a thick fir-wood, unconscious of its being close to their own home. When it had become quite dark, and they did not return, the alarmed family searched the forest with torches and cow-bells, and after three hours of toil and anxiety, they were found in a hole filled with leaves; the oldest, nine years of age, had taken off his jacket, to cover with it his brother, only six years old, and was lying on him to keep him warm, braving himself cold and death, and already so far benumbed as to be unable to reply to the well known voices which called on him.
The Foron rises in this mountain, and is the Genevese boundary. We crossed it on the wooden bridge which looks so picturesque from the height above, and were stopped at Annemasse, a little farther, to exhibit our passports. This is the Sardinian frontier, and we were detained some time, but no trouble given, and the carriage not examined. We were found en règle, for the passports had been visés the night before, this being a necessary preliminary to visiting Chamouny, and a profitable one to Sardinia, for each visa costs four francs.
Before reaching Bonneville, which is the chief town of the province of Faucigny, we passed the ruined castle of its old barons, which frowns on a commanding height to the left. Its last possessor was Beatrice, grand-daughter of Agnes, daughter of Aymon the second, baron of Faucigny, last male of his line. Marrying the dauphin of Vienne, she bore with her to her husband her rights over the province, but having attained an advanced age, family dissensions, and the ill-treatment of her grandchildren, offspring of her daughter Anna, induced her to pray the protection of her cousin Amedée the Great, count of Savoy. Received at his court, and treated with attention and affection, as well as with the honours due to her rank, she resolved on proving her gratitude by bequeathing to him all the lands, rights, and castles she possessed over and above her marriage portion, as well as whatever she could alienate of her paternal inheritance. Her will, made in this spirit, was the cause of Savoy’s taking up arms against Dauphiny; the one to defend the territory just acquired, the other to resist spoliation; and these cruel wars once kindled did not cease entirely till Humbert the Second, last dauphin, weary of the world when he had lost his son, took the monastic habit, and in 1349 ceded Dauphiny to the heir of France. The Green Count Amedée, disapproving of the presence of his new and powerful neighbour, led an army across the mountains, and fought a pitched battle, in which he was victorious, taking prisoners many of the chief men there, both of France and Dauphiny. The count’s prowess and power proved, the former were satisfied with placing their interests in the hands of arbitrators, who decided that Savoy should remain sovereign of Faucigny and Gex, while she ceded to France all her possessions in Dauphiny beyond the Rhone and the Guier. The old castle passed, the road nears the Mole, which towers in all its elevation of 5800 feet, and we drove through an avenue of trees into Bonneville, where we breakfasted not badly, despite the very poetical rhyme: