Rodolph of Diesbach himself was highly esteemed in France. He had passed his youth there, had studied at the University of Paris, and from 1507 to 1515 had taken part in the wars of Louis XII., and honorably distinguished himself. On his return to Berne, he was one of those who embraced the evangelical faith, and was often called to defend the interests of Geneva and the Reformation. While Rodolph was in France pleading the cause of his cousin, De la Maisonneuve and Janin were imprisoned at Lyons, and Diesbach received instructions from the lords of Berne to do all in his power to obtain their liberation from the king. He set about it with all the energy of a Bernese and a warrior; went to Blois, where Francis I. was then holding his court, and earnestly solicited the enlargement of the two evangelicals.[[618]] He regarded Baudichon de la Maisonneuve as his co-burgher and co-religionist, and saw clearly how useful his presence would be in Geneva. But, on the other hand, the catholic nobles and ultramontane priests urged the king to suffer the two Genevans to be burnt. How could Francis I., who had recently become the pope’s friend, and who had ordered the heretics in his kingdom to be brought to trial[[619]]—how could he save the heretics of Geneva? The friends as well as the enemies of the Reformation were in the keenest suspense. Weeks, and even months elapsed, without obtaining a decisive answer from the king.
A Terrible Necessity.
Geneva was greatly agitated during this long delay; but the absence of the two energetic huguenots did not hinder the work from being pursued with resolution. The magistrates desired to take and execute promptly the supreme measures rendered necessary by the danger of the country. A terrible and inexorable necessity continually rose before their minds. To save Geneva, a great portion of it must be destroyed.
The city was at that time composed of two parts: the city proper and the four suburbs. The suburb of the Temple, or Aigues Vives (Eaux Vives), stood on the left shore of the lake, and took its name from the church of St. John of Rhodes, which stood there.[[620]] The suburb of Palais lay to the left, on the picturesque banks of the Rhone; that of St. Leger extended from the city to the bridge thrown over the icy torrent of the Arve; and that of St. Victor, in which the monastery of that name was situated, stretched from Malagnou to Champel. This town beyond the walls not only had as many houses as the one within, but covered a far more extensive surface, and contained over six thousand inhabitants.
On the 23d August the Two Hundred members of the Great Council received a summons, bearing the words: ‘In consequent of urgent affairs of the city.’[[621]] Every one understood what they meant. The premier-syndic proposed to build up some of the gates, and to set a good guard; but added, that such measures alone were not sufficient; that, as the suburbs were very extensive, the enemy could establish himself in them; and that it was necessary unhesitatingly to knock down all the houses, barns, and walls, beginning with the nearest. Many were struck with grief when they heard the proposition. What a resolution! what a disaster! With their own hands the citizens were to destroy those peaceful homes in which their childhood had played, where they had been born, and where those whom they loved had died; and a great part of the population would have no other shelter left them than the vault of heaven. Yet the Two Hundred did not hesitate. The friends of the Reformation, in whose eyes the Gospel had shone with all its brightness, were prepared for the greatest sacrifices so that they might preserve it. Those who were not touched by religious motives were carried away by patriotic enthusiasm. ‘It is better to lose the hand than the arm ... the suburbs than the city,’ exclaimed the citizens. The resolution was agreed to; and without any delay—for the matter was urgent—the very same day, after dinner, the four syndics, accompanied by Aimé Levet and five other captains of the city, ‘went to give orders for the destruction of the suburbs.’ There were cries and tears here and there, but nearly all had formed the resolution to lay their goods, although with trembling hands, upon the altar of their country and their faith.
It must be done, for every day the danger appeared to draw nearer. The Genevese ambassadors at Berne wrote to the Council: ‘Be on your guard.’ Acts of violence and trifling skirmishes announced more serious combats. On the 14th of August, Richerme, a merchant of Geneva, returning from Lyons, was seized, dragged successively to three of the bishop’s castles, and put to the torture. On the 25th, Chabot, another citizen, was stopped at the Mont de Sion, taken to the castle of Peney, and also put to the torture; but the judges, wishing to give a proof of their good nature, added: ‘Do not let his bones be broken or his life endangered.’ They soon brought in a new prisoner.
The Embroiderer Of Avignon.
There was an embroiderer at Avignon, ‘so superstitious in fasting,’ that he had sometimes gone several days without eating or drinking. The poor artisan, having received the Gospel, had ceased to attend mass, and had consequently been sent to prison. The churchmen asked him how long it was since he had been present at the sacrifice of the altar. ‘Three years,’ he replied; ‘and with my own will neither myself nor any of my family would ever have gone there.’ When they heard him talk in this way, the priests did not dare put him to death, for they thought him mad. Six months afterwards there came a great pestilence; every one fled, and the prison-doors were left open: ‘seeing which the pious embroiderer went out.’ He thirsted for the Gospel, and knowing that there were great preachers at Geneva, he took the road to that city. His travelling expenses were not great: ‘he had been accustomed to go from Avignon to Lyons, more than sixty French leagues, for a sol-de-roi,’ says Froment. At last he reached the valley of the Leman, alone and a fugitive, but joyfully anticipating the words of life that he was soon to hear. Suddenly he was surrounded by a troop of horsemen, who asked him roughly: ‘Where are you going?’ ‘To Geneva.’ ‘What to do?’ The embroiderer answered frankly and courteously, as was his custom, ‘I am going to hear the Gospel preached; will you not go and hear it also?’ ‘No, indeed,’ answered the men. He began to press them: ‘Go, I entreat you,’ he said. ‘I am surprised at you: you are so near, and I am come expressly all the way from Avignon to hear it. I entreat you to come.’ ‘March, rascal!’ they cried, ‘and we will teach you to hear those devils of Geneva.’ They took him to Peney, and, on reaching the castle, said to him: ‘We will give you three strappadoes in the name of the three devils you wished to go and hear preach.’ Having tied his hands behind his back, they raised him to the top of a long beam of wood, and let him fall suddenly to within two feet of the ground. ‘That is in the name of Farel,’ they cried; then came one for Froment, and another for Viret. The poor fellow, all bruised as he was, getting on his legs as well as he could, again looked at his tormentors, and, touched with love for them, repeated, in a persuasive tone: ‘Come along with me and hear the Gospel.’ The indignant Peneysans answered roughly: ‘March back quickly to the place from whence you came,’ which he would not do for anything they could do to him. ‘He is out of his mind,’ they said; and, taking him for an idiot, they let him go. The poor man reached Geneva at last, and was lodged for nearly two months, says Froment, ‘with the author of this book, to whom he related the whole matter.’[[622]]
Such deeds of violence showed the Genevans that there was no time to lose. In the month of August the resolutions of the Council followed one another rapidly. On the 18th they ordered that the church and priory of St. Victor should be demolished; on the 23d, that all the houses, barns, and walls in the suburbs should be pulled down; and that a certain number of Swiss veteran soldiers should be enrolled who should be fed and lodged by the rich in turn; on the 24th, that all absentees should be summoned to return for the defence of the city; on the 1st of September, that it should be fortified on the side of the lake; on the 11th, that the trees around the walls which might screen the approach of the enemy should be cut down; and on the 13th, that every man should begin to pull down his house within two days, that is, by the 15th of September.[[623]]
The calamity then appeared before them as imminent and inexorable, and with all its coarser and sad realities. The weaker minds were distressed, the more excitable gave way to anger. In the suburbs there was much clamor. What! the houses to be levelled to the ground, like those of traitors, and that too by the very hands of the inhabitants! The priests shuddered at the thought that the churches of St. Victor, St. Leger, and of the Knights of Rhodes were to be destroyed. Discontented citizens pointed coolly to the solidity of the condemned edifices, and declared that it would not be possible to pull them down. And, finally, the chiefs of the catholic party, foreseeing that the measures which were to be the salvation of Reform would be the ruin of popery, determined to make a vigorous demonstration against them.