=SUPERSTITIONS IN GENEVA.=
WHILE the men of the old times were taking fright and retreating, the men of the new times were taking courage and advancing. They sat down at the firesides of the burgesses of Geneva, and, leading the way to religious conversation, gradually scattered new ideas in the city and new seed in men's hearts. Of these Lutherans, as they were called, some were Genevans, others Bernese; and the witty Bonivard occasionally joined in this familiar talk. Some of them, truly pious men, told their listeners that they ought to look for salvation to the cross alone, and that, just as the sun transforms the earth and causes it to produce fruit, so the light of the Gospel would transform their hearts and lead them to perform new works. Others, who were sarcastic and simply negative men, confined themselves to pointing out the abuses of Rome and of its clergy. They said openly what hitherto they had dared to utter only in secret. If they saw a cordelier passing, with ruddy face, long beard, brown frock, and disgusting aspect, they pointed at him and said: 'These monks creep not only into the consciences of the citizens, but into their houses, and defile the city by their scandals and adultery.[801] Our grated windows and bolted doors can hardly keep out their unbridled vices, and protect the chastity of our wives and daughters.[802] God has given them up to the lusts of their hearts.'
Such conversations as these were continually taking place among the Genevans and the Bernese during the interval between the reformation of Berne and that of Geneva. When a Genevan invited a Switzer to his house, the former would volunteer, after dinner, to show his guest the curiosities of the city. 'We will first go and have a look at the church of St. Pierre,' said he. 'See what a fine cathedral it is; admire these pillars, these arches, that vaulted roof; but there are other things besides. Here is a shrine containing an invaluable treasure—the arm of St. Anthony.... On holidays it is brought out for the adoration of the people, who kiss the relic with holy reverence. But,' added the Genevan, in a whisper to his companion, 'this arm some people affirm to be only one of the members of a stag. Come with me to the high altar; you see the box in which the brains of St. Peter are preserved!... To doubt this is a frightful heresy, and not to adore them abominable impiety; but ... between you and me ... these brains of the apostle are only pumice-stone.'[803]
=MONKISH TRICKS.=
Sometimes Swiss and Genevans crossed the river and climbed the street leading to the ancient church of St. Gervais. 'What are those old women about, putting their ears to that hole?' asked one of them. A number of priests and women had collected there. 'The bodies of St. Gervais, St. Nazaire, St. Celsus, and St. Pantaleon are buried under this altar,' said the priests to the women. 'These holy bodies desire to quit their vault; come and listen at this hole, and you will hear them.' The simple women approached, and heard a noise like that of men talking together. 'We can hear them,' they said.—'Alas!' continued the priests, 'in order to raise the body of a saint, we require bishops, ceremonies, silver utensils, and we have nothing!' As they wished to deliver these holy personages, these good women immediately cast their offerings into the church box ... and the priests gathered them up. 'Do you know,' said a huguenot, 'incredulous people affirm that the noise which proceeds, as the priests say, from the conversation of St. Pantaleon and his friends, is caused by certain pipes, cleverly arranged, which, immediately the hole is opened and the air flows in, give out the sounds that are heard?'[804]
'Have you ever seen souls out of purgatory? Nothing is easier at Geneva,' said a huguenot after supper. 'It is quite dark; let us go to the cemetery, and I will show them to you.... Here we are.... Do you see those little flames creeping slowly here and there among the scattered bones?... They are souls (the priests tell us) which, having left their place of anguish, crawl slowly about the cemetery at night, and entreat their relatives to pay the priests for masses and prayers to free them from purgatorial fires.... Wait a little ... there is one coming near us ... I will deliver it.' He stooped, and, picking it up, showed it to his companions: 'Ha! ha! upon my word, these souls are curiously made ... they are crabs, and the priests have fastened little wax tapers to their backs.'[805]
'That is one of the tricks of our clergy,' said a learned huguenot. (Bonivard often took part in these conversations.) 'They are buffoons in their repasts, fools in all difficult discussions, snails in work, harpies in exaction, leopards in friendship, bulls in pride, minotaurs in devouring, and foxes in cunning.'[806]
The Genevans went further still. One day—it was Tuesday, the 4th of January, 1530—when several huguenots had met together, and the relics and impositions of the priests had formed the subject of conversation, some of them, living in St. Gervais, indignant at the frauds of the clergy, who metamorphosed the bodies of saints into mines of gold, determined to protest against these abuses. They went out of the house in a body, marched up and down the different streets, and, stopping at certain places, assembled the people in the usual manner, when, surrounded by a large crowd, they held (says the council register) 'an auction of an unusual sort, by way of derision.' Perhaps they offered the bodies to the highest bidder; but, in any case, they themselves were sent to prison.
This scene had greatly amused the inhabitants of the suburb. Old superstitions were giving way in Geneva and falling to the ground amid the applause of the people. The huguenots claimed the right of free inquiry, and desired that the human understanding should have some authority in the world. These experiments of liberty, which alarmed the Church, delighted the citizens. The inhabitants of St. Gervais, animated with generous sentiments, went in great numbers to the hôtel-de-ville. 'We desire that the prisoners be set at liberty,' said they to the syndics, 'and we offer to be bail for them.' The magistrates still clung to the old order of things.—'I ought to reprimand you severely for your disorders,' said the premier syndic. 'We will have no tumult or sedition here. Let the relatives of the prisoners come before the council to-morrow, and we will hear them.' On the 9th of January, the Two-Hundred resolved to pardon the prisoners, and to tell them that this folly, if they ever committed another like it, should count double against them.[807]
=A NEGATIVE REFORM.=