The more light-hearted among them went further than this. For ages the Roman Church had accustomed its followers to unite masquerades with the most sacred recollections. In some cantons there had been great rejoicings over the abolition of the mass. Such a fire could not be kindled in Switzerland without scattering a few sparks over Geneva. Baudichon de la Maison-Neuve, a great enemy to superstition, an active and even turbulent man, and daring enough to attempt anything, resolved to organise a funeral procession of the papacy. He would attack Rome with the weapons that the Roman carnival supplied him, and would arrange a great procession. Whilst serious men were reading the epistle from heaven (the Gospel), which absolved them from the excommunication of its pretended vicar, the young and thoughtless were in great excitement; they dressed themselves in their houses in the strangest manner; they disguised themselves, some as priests, some as canons, and others as monks; they came out, met together, drew up in line, and soon began to march through the streets of the city. There were white friars, grey friars, and black friars, fat canons, and thin curates. One was begging, another chanting; here was one scourging himself, there another strutting solemnly along; here a man carrying a hair shirt, there a man with a bottle. Some indulged in acts of outrageous buffoonery; others, the more completely to imitate the monks, went so far as to take liberties with the women who were looking on, and when some fat friar thus made any burlesque gesture, there was loud applause, and the crowd exclaimed: 'That is not the worst they do.' In truth the reality was more culpable than the burlesque. When they saw this tumultuous procession and heard the doleful chanting, mingled with noisy roars of laughter, every one said that popery was dying, and singing its De profundis, its burial anthem.
The priests took the jest in very bad part, and the procession was hardly over before they hurried, flushed with anger, to complain to the syndics of 'the enmity raised against them by Baudichon and others.' The syndics referred their complaint to the episcopal council, and the latter severely reprimanded the offenders. But Maison-Neuve and his friends withdrew, fully convinced that the priests were in the wrong, and that the victory would ultimately be on their side.[762]
=BONIVARD AT THE PRIORY.=
They were beginning in Geneva to estimate a papal excommunication at its proper value. No one knew more on this subject than Bonivard, and he instructed his best friends on this difficult text. Among the number was François Favre, a man of ardent character, prompt wit, and rather worldly manners, but a good citizen and determined huguenot. Favre was one day, on a famous occasion, to be at the head of Bonivard's liberators. He went sometimes to the priory, where he often met Robert Vandel, a man of less decision than his two friends. Vandel, who still kept on good terms with the bishop, was at heart one of the most independent of men, and Bonivard had made him governor of the domain of St. Victor.
These Genevans and others continued the conversations that Bonivard had formerly had with Berthelier in the same room and at the same table. They spoke of Berne, of Geneva, of Switzerland, of the Reformation, and of excommunication. Bonivard found erelong a special opportunity of enlightening his two friends on the acts of the Romish priesthood.
=BONIVARD ON EXCOMMUNICATION.=
There was no one in Geneva whom the papal party detested more than him. The ultramontanists could understand why lawyers and citizens opposed the clergy; but a prior!... His enemies, therefore, formed the project of seizing the estates of St. Victor, and of expelling Bonivard from the monastery. The huguenots, on hearing of this, ardently espoused his cause, and the council gave him, for his protection (20th of January, 1528) six arquebuses and four pounds of gunpowder. These were hardly monastic weapons; but the impetuous Favre hastened to offer him his heart and his arm; and, to say the truth, Bonivard in case of need could have made very good use of an arquebuse. He had recourse, however, to other defenders; he resolved to go and plead his cause before the League. But this was not without danger, for the duke's agents might seize him on the road, as he afterwards had the misfortune to know. Favre, ever ready to go where there was any risk to be run, offered to accompany him to Berne. Vandel had to go as governor of St. Victor: they set off. Arriving at a village in the Pays de Vaud, the three huguenots dismounted and took a stroll while their horses were resting. Bonivard, as he was riding along, had noticed some large placards on the doors of the churches, and being curious to know what they were about, he went up to them, and immediately called his friends; 'Come here,' he said; 'here are some curious things—letters of excommunication.' He was beginning to read them, when one of his companions cried out: 'Stop! for as soon as you have read them, you will thereby be excommunicate!' The worthy huguenot imagined that the best plan was to know nothing about such anathemas, and then to act as if the excommunication did not exist—which could not be done if they were read. Bonivard, a man of great good sense, profited by the opportunity to explain to his friends what these earthly excommunications were worth. 'If you have done what is wrong,' he told them, 'God himself excommunicates you; but if you have acted rightly, the excommunication of priests can do you no harm. There is only one tribunal which has power over the conscience, and that is heaven. The pope and the devil hurt only those who are afraid of them. Do therefore what is right, and fear nothing. The bolts which they may hurl at you will be spent in the air.' Then he added with a smile: 'If the pope or the metropolitan of Vienne excommunicate you, pope Berthold of Berne will give you absolution.'[763] Bonivard's words were repeated in Geneva, and the papal excommunications lost credit every day.
This became alarming: the episcopal officers informed the bishop; but the latter, who was enjoying himself in his Burgundian benefices, put aside everything that might disturb his meals and his repose. It was not the same with the duke and his ministers. That prince was not content with coveting the prelate's temporal power; looking upon La Baume as already dispossessed of his rights, he made himself bishop, nay almost pope, in his place. The cabinet of Turin thought that if the principles of civil liberty once combined with those of religious liberty, Geneva would attempt to reform Savoy by means of conversations, letters, books, and missionaries. Charles III. therefore sent a message to the council, which was read in the Two-Hundred on the 7th of February. 'I hear,' said the prince, 'that the Lutheran sect is making way among you.... Make haste to prevent the ravages of that pestilence, and, to that intent, send on the 17th two men empowered by you to hear some very important things concerning my authority in matters of faith.'
What would the Genevans answer? If a bishop is made prince, why should not a prince be made bishop? The confusion of the two provinces is a source of continual disturbance. Christianity cannot tolerate either Cæsars who are popes, or popes who are Cæsars; and yet ambition is always endeavouring to unite these two irreconcilable powers. The duke did not presume to abolish definitively the episcopal power and confer it on himself; but he wished to take advantage of the bishop's flight to acquire an influence which he would be able to retain when the episcopal authority was restored. He spoke, therefore, like a Roman pontiff ... of his authority in matters of faith.
'Really,' said the council, 'we have had enough and too much even of one pope, and we do not care to have two—one at Rome and the other at our very gates.' The citizens were so irritated at Charles's singular claim, that they did not return an answer in the usual form. 'We will not write to the duke,' said the syndics; 'we will delegate no one to him, seeing that we are not his subjects; but we will simply tell the bearer of his letter that we are going on very well, and that the duke, having no authority to correct us, ought to mind his own business.' Such is the minute recorded in the council register for this day. As for La Baume, the poor prelate, who did not trouble himself much either about pope or Lutheranism, wrote the same day to the Genevans, that he permitted them 'to eat milk-food during the coming Lent.' This culinary permission was quite in his way, and it was the most important missive from the bishop at that time.[764]