At Geneva, therefore, as well as in all the catholic world, Luther was already known as the man who laid bare sins. The Doctor did not allow himself to be disconcerted by this charge of Lutheranism:
World, would you like to be well once more?
The World, with firmness.
Yes!
Doctor.
Then think of abuses what a store
Are daily committed by great and small,
And according to law reform them all.
This was demanding a Reformation. The huguenots (Eidguenots) applauded; the foreign merchants were astonished; the courtiers of Savoy, and even Maurienne himself, smiled. Still Maison-Neuve, Vandel, Bernard, and all those who had ‘talked with’ the evangelicals, and especially the author of the drama, knew the difficulties the Reformation would have to encounter in Geneva.
The World, irritated against these laymen who turn preachers, exclaims: This impudent doctor so mild of speech,
I asked him to cure me, not to preach.
The fool!
Another personage, alarmed at so unprecedented a thing: Good heavens! it can’t be true.
The World.
True enough; but as for his preaching now,
I’d rather be led by a fool, I vow,
Than a preacher.
Friends of the World.
That’s quite right;
Live by the rule of your appetite.
The World.
That will I!...
Whereupon the World puts on a fool’s dress, and the burlesque ends.
It is too true that the world, after the Reformation, put on a fool’s dress in various places, particularly in France. What was the house of Valois but a house of fools? And yet a divine wisdom had then entered the world, and remains in it still, for the healing of nations. From the beginning of 1523, the great principle of protestantism which declares Scripture to be the only source and rule of truth, in opposition to that of Roman Catholicism, which substitutes the authority of the Church, was recognised in Geneva. The ‘text of the Bible’ was publicly declared ‘an irreproachable thing’ and the only remedy for the cure of diseased humanity. And what, at bottom, was this burlesque of the huguenots but a lay sermon on the text: The law of the Lord converteth the soul? It is good to observe the date, as it is generally thought that the Reformation did not begin till much later in the city of Calvin. This ‘mystery’ of a new kind did not remain without effect; the evangelicals had taken up their position; the ram, armed with its head of brass, that was to batter and throw down the walls of Rome—the infallible Bible, had appeared. Jean Philippe felt that the piece had not cost him too dear.
The stage of the Monde Malade had scarcely been pulled down, when the citizens had to think of something else besides plays. The Savoyards, who did not like the dish served up to them, and thought they smelt the poison of heresy in it, resolved to avenge themselves by making the weight of their yoke felt. Two words comprehend the whole policy of these soldiers and courtiers: despotism of the prince, servility of the people. They undertook to mould the Genevans to their system. With haughty mien and arrogant tone they were continually picking quarrels with the citizens; they called everything too dear that was sold them, they got into a passion and struck the shopkeepers, and the latter, who had no arms, were obliged at first to put up with these insults. But erelong every one armed himself, and the tradesmen, raising their heads, crossed swords with these insolent lords. There was a great uproar in the city. Irritated at this resistance, the grand-master of the court hastened to the council: ‘The duke and duchess came here,’ he said, ‘thinking to be with friends.’ The council ordered the citizens to be arrested who had struck the gentlemen, and the Savoyard quarter-master undertook to lock them up, which the Genevan quarter-master resisted. The duke, in a passion, threatened to bring in his subjects ‘to pillage the place.’ There was some reason, it must be confessed, to desire a little tranquillity. ‘The duchess is willing to do us the honour of being brought to bed in this city,’ said Syndic Baud to the people; ‘please do not make any disturbance; and as soon as you hear the bells and trumpets, go in procession with tapers and torches, and pray to God for her.’
The ‘honour’ which the duchess was about to confer on Geneva did not affect the Genevans. The most courageous citizens, Aimé Lévrier, John Lullin, and others, were superior to all such seductions. Faithful interpreter of the law, calm but intrepid guardian of the customs and constitutions, Lévrier continually reminded the council that Charles was not sovereign in Geneva. While avoiding a noisy opposition, he displayed unshrinking firmness; and accordingly the duke began to think that he could only become prince of the city by passing over his body. Lullin was not a jurist like Lévrier, but active, practical, and energetic; at every opportunity he manifested his love of liberty, and sometimes did so with rudeness. Although prior of the confraternity of St. Loup, he was at the same time landlord of the Bear inn, which, according to the manners of those days, was not incompatible with a high position in the city. One day when his stables were full of horses belonging to a poor Swiss carrier, some richly-dressed gentlemen of Savoy alighted noisily before the inn and prepared to put up their horses. ‘There is no room, gentlemen!’ said Lullin roughly. ‘They are the duke’s horses,’ replied the courtiers. ‘No matter,’ returned the energetic huguenot. ‘First come, first served. I would rather lodge carriers than princes.’ At that time Charles was raising six thousand men, to be present in Geneva at his child’s christening, and the cavaliers probably belonged to this body. But the huguenots thought it too much to have six thousand godfathers armed from head to foot, and it was probably this that put Lullin in bad humour. Charles was weak but violent; he stamped his foot when told of the insult offered to his servants, cast a furious glance over the city, and exclaimed with an oath: ‘I will make this city of Geneva smaller than the smallest village in Savoy.’[319] Many trembled when they heard of the threat, and the council, to pacify the prince, sent Lullin to prison for three days.
At length the great event arrived on which the hopes of Savoy reposed. On the 2nd December one of the duke’s officers informed the syndics that the duchess had been delivered at noon of a prince. Immediately the bells were rung, the trumpets sounded: bishop, canons, priests, monks, confraternities, boys and girls dressed in white and carrying tapers in their hands, all walked in long procession. Bonfires were lighted in every open place, and the cannons on the esplanade (La Treille) which looks towards Savoy announced to that faithful country that the duke had a son.[320] ‘As he was born in Geneva,’ said the courtiers to one another, ‘the citizens cannot refuse him for their prince.’[321] The duchess had the matter very much at heart, and erelong, richly apparelled and seated in her bed, as was the custom, she would say in the frivolous conversations she had with the persons admitted to pay their court to her: ‘This city is a buena posada’ (a very good inn). The delighted duke replied: ‘Geneva shall be yours,’ which she was very pleased to hear.[322]