Popery In France.
But the work of union was not to be so easy as the conjunction of two such stars as Farnese and Valois seemed to promise. While the Romish Church was being toned down at Rome, popery became stricter in France. The fanatical party that was to acquire a horrible celebrity by the crimes of the Bartholomew massacre and of the League, was beginning to take shape round the dauphin, the future Henry II. That youth of eighteen, who had not long returned from Madrid, was far from being lively, talkative, and independent, like a young Frenchman, but gloomy and silent, and appeared to live only to obey women. There were two at his side, admirably calculated to give him a papistical direction: first, his wife, Catherine de Medicis, and next his mistress, Diana of Poitiers, a widow, still beautiful in spite of her age, and who would not (as it has been said) have spoken to a heretic for an empire. The mistress and the wife, who were on the best of terms, and all of the dauphin’s party, endeavored to thwart the king’s plans. The most influential members of that faction were continually repeating to him that the protestants of Germany were quite as fanatical and seditious as those of France. At the same time, the emperor’s agents, animated by the same intentions, told the German protestants that Francis I. was an infidel in alliance with the Turks. The obstacles opposed in France and Germany to the reconciliation of Christendom were such that its realization appeared a matter of difficulty.
But in the midst of these intrigues the moderate party held firm. The Du Bellays belonged to one of the oldest families in France; their nobility could be traced back to the reign of Lothaire,[[683]] and their mother, Margaret de la Tour-Landry, reckoned among her ancestors a man who had occupied himself with laying down the rules of a good education. After a life of busy warfare, the Chevalier de la Tour-Landry, seignior of Bourmont and Claremont, who lived in the fourteenth century, wrote two works on education: one for his sons, the other for his daughters, copies of which became numerous. The treatise intended for the girls was printed in 1514, perhaps by the direction of the parents of the Du Bellays. ‘Out of the great affection I bear to my children,’ wrote the old cavalier, ‘whom I love as a father ought to love them, my heart will be filled with perfect joy if they grow up good and honorable, loving and serving God.’[[684]] William and John particularly seemed to have responded to this prayer. William, the elder, was not void of Christian sentiments. ‘I desire,’ he said, ‘that nothing may happen injurious to the cause of the Gospel and the glory of Christ;’[[685]] but he was specially one of the most distinguished generals and diplomatists of his epoch. He knew, says Brantome, the most private secrets of the emperor and of all the princes of Europe, so that people supposed him to have a familiar spirit. Although maimed in his limbs—the consequence of his campaigns—he was a man of indefatigable activity. His brother John, Bishop of Paris, who was also ‘another master-mind,’ professed like him an enlightened catholicism; and hence it happened that on the accession of Henry II. he was deprived of his rank by the intrigues of the papist party, and driven from France. Still, to show that he remained a catholic, he took up his residence in Rome.
Melancthon’s Position.
In 1535 the moderate catholic party, at the head of which were these two brothers, seeing the chances of success at Rome as well as at Paris, resolved to take a more decided step, and to invite Melancthon to France. The proposal was made to Francis I., and supported by all the members of the party. They knew that Melancthon was called ‘the master of Germany,’ and thought that if he came to France he would conciliate all parties by the culture of his mind, by his learning, wisdom, piety, and gentleness. One man, if he appears at the right moment, is sometimes sufficient to give a new direction to an entire epoch, to a whole nation. ‘Ah, sire,’ said Barnabas Voré de la Fosse, a learned and zealous French nobleman, who knew Germany well, and had tasted of the Gospel, ‘if you knew Melancthon, his uprightness, learning, and modesty! I am his disciple, and fear not to tell it you. Of all those who in our days have the reputation of learning, and who deserve it, he is the foremost.’[[686]]
These advances were not useless: Francis I. thought the priests very arrogant and noisy. His despotism made him incline to the side of the pope; but his love of letters, and his disgust at the monks, attracted him the other way. Just now he thought it possible to satisfy both these inclinations at once. Fully occupied with the effect of the moment, and inattentive to consequences, he passed rapidly from one extreme to another. At Marseilles he had thrown himself into the arms of Clement VII., now he made up his mind to hold out his hand to Melancthon. ‘Well!’ said the king, ‘since he differs so much from our rebels, let him come: I shall be enchanted to hear him.’ This gave great delight to the peacemakers. ‘God has seen the affliction of his children and heard their cries,’ exclaimed Sturm.[[687]] Francis I. ordered De la Fosse to proceed to Germany to urge Melancthon in person.
A king of France inviting a reformer to come and explain his views was something very new. The two principal obstacles which impeded the Reformation seemed now to be removed. The first was the character of the reformers in France, the exclusive firmness of their doctrines, and the strictness of their morality. Melancthon, the mild, the wise, the tolerant, the learned scholar, was to attempt the task. The second obstacle was the fickleness and opposition of Francis I.; but it was this prince who made the advances. There are hours of grace in the history of the human race, and one of those hours seemed to have arrived. ‘God, who rules the tempests,’ exclaimed Sturm, ‘is showing us a harbor of refuge.’[[688]]
Efforts Of The Mediators.
The friends of the Gospel and of light set earnestly to work. It was necessary to persuade Melancthon, the Elector, and the protestants of Germany, which might be a task of some difficulty. But the mediators did not shrink from before obstacles; they raised powerful batteries; they stretched the strings of their bow, and made a great effort to carry the fortress. Sturm, in particular, spared no exertions. The free courses he was giving at the Royal College, his lectures on Cicero, his logic, which, instead of preparing his disciples (among whom was Peter Ramus) for barren disputes, developed and adorned their minds—nothing could stop him. Sturm was not only an enlightened man, a humanist, appreciating the Beautiful in the productions of genius, but he had a deep feeling of the divine grandeur of the Gospel. Men of letters in those times, especially in Italy, were often negative in regard to the things of God, light in their conduct, without moral force, and consequently incapable of exercising a salutary influence over their contemporaries. Such was not Sturm: and while those beaux-esprits, those wits were making a useless display of their brilliant intelligence in drawing-rooms, that eminent man exhibited a Christian faith and life: he busied himself in the cultivation of all that is most exalted, and during his long career, never ceased from enlightening his contemporaries.[[689]] ‘The future of French protestantism is in your hands,’ he wrote to Bucer; ‘Melancthon’s answer and yours will decide whether the evangelicals are to enjoy liberty, or undergo the most cruel persecutions. When I see Francis I. meditating the revival of the Church, I recognize God, who inclines the hearts of princes. I do not doubt his sincerity; I see no hidden designs, no political motives; although a German by birth, I do not share my fellow-countrymen’s suspicions about him. The king, I am convinced, wishes to do all he can to reform the Church, and to give liberty of conscience to the French.’[[690]] Such was, then, the hope of the most generous spirits—such the aim of their labors.
Sturm, wishing to do everything in his power to give France that liberty and reformation, wrote personally to Melancthon. He was the man to be gained, and the professor set his heart upon gaining him. ‘How delighted I am at the thought that you will come to France!’ he said. ‘The king talks much about you; he praises your integrity, learning, and modesty; he ranks you above all the scholars of our time, and has declared that he is your disciple.[[691]] I shed tears when I think of the devouring flames that have consumed so many noble lives; but when I learn that the king invites you to advise with him as to the means of extinguishing those fires, then I feel that God is turning his eyes with love upon the souls who are threatened with unutterable calamities. What a strange thing! France appeals to you at the very time when our cause is so fiercely attacked. The king, who is of a good disposition at bottom, perceives so many defects in the old cause, and such imprudence in those who adhere to the truth, that he applies to you to find a remedy for these evils. O Melancthon! to see your face will be our salvation. Come into the midst of our violent tempests, and show us the haven. A refusal from you would keep our brethren suspended above the flames. Trouble yourself neither about emperors nor kings: those who invite you are men who are fighting against death. But they are not alone: the voice of Christ, nay, the voice of God himself calls you.’[[692]] The letter is dated from Paris, 4th March, 1535.