Still Roman-catholicism did something. Monsignor de Bonmont went to the council on the 25th of May, and begged the syndics to take part in a torchlight procession and other ceremonies which were to take place on the 27th of the month, the festival of Corpus Christi. That procession, however brilliant it might be, was very displeasing to the zealous Reformers: they did not like that the Word of God should be supplanted by millinery, lace, and all the empty glitter which dazzles the eye in sacerdotal costumes. The answer of the council was judicious: 'We have appointed a discussion,' said the premier syndic to the vicar-episcopal; 'that will decide whether the procession is holy or not. Wait a little, then; if the conference is in favor of the procession, it shall be proclaimed with sound of trumpet.'[514]
At the same time the council resolved to send a deputation to all the convents to invite the monks, who answered, 'We have no learned men among us; it is impossible for us to take part in the discussion.'[515]
One convent, however, displayed resolution: it was that of the nuns of Ste. Claire. The mother-vicar, Mademoiselle de Montluet de Château-Fort, a woman of warm and fiery temperament, answered the invitation: 'Begone! you are wicked people who want to vex the servants of God.' The deputies replied, 'It is said, madam, that certain of your nuns remain only by force under your instruction, and would like to hear the voice of the Good Shepherd.'... At these words the mother-vicar burst out. 'Satan has no part among us,' she cried; and turning towards the nuns, added, 'My sisters, speak, speak!' Almost all exclaimed at the top of their voices, 'We will live and die in our holy calling.' The clamor was so great that the deputies could not make themselves heard. 'Do not be afraid, gentlemen,' said the mother, 'this is nothing. You will hear something very different if you take us to your synagogue. When we are there, we will make such an uproar, that we shall remain mistresses of the place.' 'Dame vicar,' said a deputy, 'you are very arrogant.' Thereupon the gentlemen retired, acknowledging however that they had not witnessed such courage in the convents of the monks.[516]
Farel, who was distressed at seeing the priests of Geneva refuse the discussion, would have supplied their place by distinguished athletes belonging to one party or the other. He wrote to Lefèvre of Etaples, the celebrated doctor of the Sorbonne, and invited him to the combat in which liberty and truth were about to engage in Geneva.[517] The aged and venerable doctor shed tears, and returned thanks to God for what he heard.[518] But he was too old to take part in a disputation; perhaps, too, his faith was not bold enough; he declined the invitation. Farel turned his eyes in another direction. A chapter of the order of St. Francis was at that time sitting at Lyons, its president being Pierre de Corne, or de Cornibus, the most intrepid adversary of the heretics, the butt of Rabelais' jests and of some unbelieving worldlings, but highly extolled by the devout, and especially by Loyola's friend, Francis Xavier. Farel pressed De Cornibus to come to Geneva; the reformer could not give a plainer proof of the seriousness of his intentions and the impartiality of the discussion. 'I am quite ready to break a lance in Geneva,' wrote De Cornibus. The council were highly delighted with this answer, and prepared to receive the warlike doctor with great honor. But all of a sudden De Cornibus informed them that he could not come.
If the combatants were not to be very numerous, the spectators at least were crowding in from all sides—men and women, great and small. Everybody wanted to see and hear, but nobody was willing to speak. The reformers were in despair, lest the dialogue should be turned into a monologue, and instead of a grand combat, one army alone should appear on the field of battle.[519]
=CAROLI AT GENEVA.=
An unexpected help now appeared. A doctor of the Sorbonne, named Caroli, arrived in Geneva and declared himself ready to dispute. Possessing insupportable vanity, tossing his head as he walked along the street, assuming a haughty and impudent air with everybody, the Parisian doctor made a great stir, talked incessantly, aped the gentleman, and boasted loudly. Much taken up with himself, he sought marks of honor, and to obtain them employed cunning, artifice, and intrigue. He represented himself to be, or allowed others to call him, bishop. 'Have you heard,' said the citizens, 'that a bishop has arrived from France?'[520] Everybody thought that Farel had found his man at last. But the reformer, who had known him long, shook his head. The foolish admiration which Caroli felt for his own person had drawn upon him the contempt of those who were not to be deceived by his braggadocio. The reformer knew that he was fluent of tongue, but was without firm principle, uprightness, or solid character, and that his sole desire was to make a name—whether in the Roman or in the evangelical camp mattered little to him. He was known to unite and to quarrel with everybody in turn. He was neither catholic nor reformer, but simply Caroli. As skilful as the famous Beda in the tricks of sophistry, he had disputed in Paris with that illustrious champion; and the Sorbonne having interdicted him, Margaret of Valois looked upon him as a victim of the Gospel, and gave him the living of Alençon. He had come from that city to Geneva, where nobody had expected or wanted him.[521] It was rumored abroad that there would be a great stir in the city; and Caroli, who had 'a keen scent' (to use the words of a contemporary), thought that Geneva would be a theatre where he might display his profound learning and fine voice, and gather fresh laurels to adorn his brow. There was only one point about which he still hesitated: should he take the side of Rome or of the Reformation?
=FAREL REBUKES CAROLI.=
Farel liked not those ambiguous characters who hoist one flag or another according to the place they may be at. Catholic at Paris, Erasmian at Alençon, Caroli would probably be a reformer at Geneva. Farel went to his inn, where he found him at breakfast. Entering upon business immediately, the reformer said to him frankly: 'You are driven from France for the faith, you say; certainly you have not deserved it, for you have done nothing that was unworthy of the pope or worthy of Jesus Christ.'[522] The doctor of the Sorbonne, offended by such words, held his tongue and continued his meal. 'The song I sang him while he was at breakfast,' said Farel, 'did not seem to please him much.'[523] 'Are you willing now,' resumed Farel, 'to confess the truth openly, as God requires, and to repair the evil that you have done by your dissimulation?' The Parisian doctor cleverly turned the conversation and began to parade a great zeal for the poor. 'I am going to send my servant back to France,' he said, 'to receive the money from my benefices, and I shall distribute it among your poor refugees.' Farel remembered how certain monks in Paris had made a great display about a collection in favor of the poor, not a penny of which had the latter ever seen. 'God,' he said, 'will never fail either the poor or us. Let us now give the bread of the Word to men's souls,' and left him. Several days elapsed. Caroli compensated himself for the humiliation Farel had inflicted upon him by representing himself everywhere as one of the greatest orators of France; and accordingly all the Genevans wanted to hear him. 'Let us put him to the test,' said Farel, who asked him to preach. But Caroli, no doubt fearing the proof, urged a thousand excuses to get off. 'Your sermons charm me,' he said to Farel, 'and I cannot persuade myself not to hear them.'[524]