‘Papal Avignon,’ writes Carlyle, in his wonderful ‘French Revolution,’ ‘with its castle rising sheer over the Rhone-stream; beautifullest town, with its purple vines and gold-orange groves; why must foolish old rhyming Réné, the last sovereign of Provence, bequeath it to the Pope and gold tiara—not rather to Louis XI. with the Leaden Virgin in his hatband? For good and for evil! Popes, Antipopes, with their pomp, have dwelt in the Castle of Avignon rising sheer over the Rhone-stream; there Laura de Sade went to hear Mass; her Petrarch twanging and singing by the Fountain of Vaucluse hard by, surely in a most melancholy manner.’
Speaking of Petrarch, naturally one’s thoughts turn to Rienzi, the Italian liberator, who fell because the Roman people were not at that time prepared for freedom. ‘When,’ writes Lord Lytton, in his splendid novel, ‘Rienzi,’ ‘the capital of the Cæsars witnessed the triumph of Petrarch, the scholastic fame of the young Rienzi had attracted the friendship of the poet—a friendship that continued, with a slight exception, to the last.’
Rienzi was one of the Roman deputies who had been sent to Avignon to supplicate Clement VI. to remove the Holy See back to Rome. It was on this mission that Rienzi for the first time gave indication of his extraordinary power of eloquence and persuasion. The pontiff, indeed, more desirous of ease than glory, was not convinced by the arguments, but he was enchanted with the pleader, and Rienzi returned to Rome laden with honours and clothed with the dignity of high and responsible office. No longer the inactive scholar, the gay companion, he rose at once to pre-eminence amongst all his fellow-citizens. Never before had authority been borne with so austere an integrity, so uncorrupt a zeal. He had thought to impregnate his colleagues with the same loftiness of principle, but in this respect he had failed. Now, secure in his footing, he had begun openly to appeal to the people, and already a new spirit seemed to animate the populace of Rome. According to modern historians, Petrarch and Rienzi went to Avignon together, but, says Lord Lytton, it was more probable that Rienzi’s mission was posterior to that of Petrarch. However that may be, it was at Avignon that Petrarch and Rienzi became most intimate, as Petrarch observes in one of his letters. Perhaps it would have been better for Italy and better for the Roman Catholic Church had they never returned to Rome. If the reader doubts this, let him read Zola’s ‘Rome.’ It was in 1309 that Clement moved his Court thither, and for sixty-eight years, until 1377, Avignon continued to be the Papal residence. The six successors of Clement V., all of them Frenchmen, like himself, were regarded by the Italians with feelings of dislike and contempt. They were little more than the ecclesiastical agents of the French monarchy.
The climax in the history of Avignon was reached when, in 1309, Clement V. removed thither from Rome, and made Avignon the seat of the Roman Pontiff and the metropolis of Christendom. By land, by sea, by the Rhone—the position of Avignon, writes Gibbon, was at all times accessible—the southern provinces of France do not yield to Italy itself; new palaces arose for the accommodation of the Pope and Cardinals, and the arts of luxury were soon attracted by the treasures of the Church. A part of the adjoining country had long belonged to the Popes, and the sovereignty of Avignon was purchased from the youth and distress of Jane, the first Queen of Naples and Countess of Provence.
Under the shadow of the French monarchy, amidst an obedient people, the Popes enjoyed a tranquillity to which they had long been strangers. Italy deplored their loss, but the Sacred College was filled with French Cardinals, who regarded Rome and Italy with abhorrence and contempt. What remains of the Papal Palace is now turned into barracks, of which you get a good view from the station as you leave for Lyons or Paris. Dr. Arnold, who paid it a passing visit, was struck with horror by the sight of its dungeons. From Avignon the Pope prosecuted a bitter persecution of his neighbours, the Waldenses. The King of France was alarmed, and sent an officer to inquire into the matter. The report was favourable. ‘Then,’ said the King, ‘they are much better Christians than myself or Catholic subjects, and therefore they shall not be persecuted.’ He was as good as his word, and the Pope at Avignon had for a time to forbear, or Avignon might have had as bloody a record as Rome itself. But at Avignon they do not think of these things. All round the old city are the mulberry trees and the silkworms; and the farmers want protection for their native industry, and to keep foreign raw silk out of the market.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE GREAT CITY OF LYONS.
In one of the first books which used to be placed in the hands of young people when I was a lad—Fox’s ‘Book of Martyrs’—we get rather an unpleasant idea of Lyons. ‘There,’ writes old Fox, ‘the martyrs were condemned to sit in iron chains till their flesh broiled. Some were sewn up in nets and thrown on the horns of wild bulls, and the carcases of those who died in prison previous to the time of execution were thrown to dogs. Indeed, so far did the malice of pagans proceed that they set guards over the bodies while the beasts were devouring them, lest the friends of the deceased should get them by stealth, and the offal not devoured by the dogs was ordered to be burnt.’ After this we get a little indignant as we turn to Gibbon, and read of the mild and beneficent spirit of the ancient polytheism, which seems to find such favour in his eyes. To-day all is changed. Christians, in the shape of Roman Catholics, have it all their own way; yet one of the handsomest places of worship I saw was that of the Reformed Church. One of the earliest reformers, Waldo, the leader of the Albigenses, was born at Lyons.
The McAll Mission is doing a good work at Lyons, though in some districts they have to report a falling off. They seek to get hold of the children, but they find in this respect the priests are as active as themselves. By means of the œuvres de patronage founded by the Catholics many of the children are drawn away. In one of the immense remote suburbs of Lyons the mothers’ meeting plays an important part in the work of evangelization. In many quarters Bible-readings have been found to be very successful, and there is a Y.M.C.A., to which many young men belong. As a rule, French Protestantism is not aggressive, else it would not be what it is to-day. Still, during the last few years the churches have waked up wonderfully, and much good has been the result. Be this as it may, Lyons is the finest city next to Paris that France can boast of. It has a population of about half a million, and the Rhone runs through it, adding much to its picturesqueness, as its banks are lined with stately houses and offices and shops. There are some twenty bridges over the river, most of them very handsome. At night you seem a little lonely as you watch the long rows of lamps that glitter along the banks. But by day the picture is reversed: there is busy life everywhere, and so clean and handsome are the buildings that you can scarcely realize that Lyons is planted with silk-mills, and that, in fact, it is the centre of the great silk trade of France. The trees, planted everywhere on the quays, which are used as promenades, make it a very charming residence.