On the 26th of September they went before the queen, who had near her the chiefs of the clergy, and said they desired to know if the Cardinal de Lorraine and the other prelates, renouncing the dogma of transubstantiation, would themselves attach their signature to the extract of the Confession of Augsburg. “If it is wished that we should sign something,” continued Theodore de Bèze, “it is reasonable that the Cardinal de Lorraine should also sign what he presents to us in the name of his party.”
The cardinal was excessively nettled at this proposition. “We are not equal, and far from being so,” he said. “For my part, I am not called upon to sign on the word of any master; I subscribe neither to those, who made this confession, nor to you.” “Since you will not,” answered Bèze, “sign yourselves, it is not just to call upon us to do so.” Bossuet pretends that Theodore de Bèze only escaped by a subtlety. It may be so; but his antagonist had set him the example.
Jacques Lainez, the general of the Jesuits, who had just arrived with the legate, assisted at this conference. He delivered so ridiculous and insolent a discourse in Italian, that it astonished even the most impetuous (Roman) Catholics. After comparing the heretics to foxes and wolves, he said they ought not to discuss with them, but to send them before the Council of Trent, and that it did not belong to laymen or to women to judge of these matters. This last arrow hit Catherine de Medicis, who showed how deeply it offended her.
Passing to the question of the Supper, the general of the Jesuits wished to explain it by saying that Jesus Christ is present in the Sacrament, as a king who played his own part in the feasts celebrated to his honour. He dwelt at length upon this comparison, heaving deep sighs, and at the end of his discourse he wept. Bèze scornfully replied that “he had made a farce of the Supper, in which Jesus Christ was the harlequin, a remark foolish and unworthy to be spoken, or heard.” Then quitting the Jesuit, he entered upon a more serious debate with Claude d’Espence.
Such was the first appearance of the Jesuits in France: but it scarcely indicated the important part they were to play in after-times. It was the prelates, assembled at Poissy, who authorized them to establish themselves in France; so that, according to the judicious remark of an historian, the assembly from which an equitable arrangement was expected between the religions, only served to introduce those into the kingdom, who stopped at nothing to prevent it.
The conference was reduced to still narrower limits. The queen-mother charged certain theologians on either side to draw up a common formulary upon the doctrine of the Supper. The five (Roman) Catholic delegates, who had been chosen from amongst the more moderate, succeeded in agreeing with the Reformed by the assistance of those vague expressions, which every one can interpret as he pleases. The news having spread at court, many rejoiced, and Catherine de Medicis sent for Theodore de Bèze to express to him her satisfaction. The Cardinal de Lorraine, after reading the formula, seemed contented. But the assembly of the clergy and the doctors of the Sorbonne protested that this document was insufficient, captious, erroneous, and heretical; and, to put it aside, they presented to the queen a confession drawn up in the most strictly (Roman) Catholic sense, demanding that the ministers, if they refused to sign it, should be pronounced obstinate, separated from the Church, and driven out of the most Christian kingdom.
After this there was nothing more to be discussed, and the conference terminated on the 9th of October. One thing alone was made clear:—that the hope of bringing the two communions together by mutual concessions was illusory, and that nothing remained but either to let one exterminate the other, or to allow them to live side by side. This last idea, so little understood at that time, began to dawn upon a few superior intellects, and especially in that of the Chancellor l’Hospital, as we shall presently see.
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.