Out of the Flames Read online

  It seems that Calvin replied to some of these letters and not to others. But there is no doubt he was seething. Servetus's language did not moderate over time, and he did little to hide the fact that he believed Calvin was perverting the Christian ethic every bit as much as the pope was. In the course of the correspondence, Servetus asked repeatedly for the return of his manuscript, but Calvin refused to send it back. In 1550, he again tried to goad the Catholics in France into taking action. In De Scandalis, a monograph denouncing unorthodox scriptural interpretations, Calvin asserted that Villanovanus was in fact Servetus. Either by oversight or contrivance, the authorities in France still did nothing.

  SERVETUS WORKED ON HIS MANUSCRIPT in secret for six years; not until 1552 was it finally ready for publication. It ran to almost eight hundred pages and was entitled Christianismi Restitutio (The Restoration of Christianity). The title was a slap at Calvin's Christianae Religionis Institutio, much as De Trinitatis Erroribus had been a slap at Saint Augustine. Servetus left no doubt as to the book's purpose. On the title page, he wrote:

  The whole apostolic church is summoned to the threshold. Once again there is restored knowledge of God, of the faith of Christ our justification, of the regeneration of baptism, and of participation in the Lord's Supper. With the heavenly kingdom restored to us, the wicked captivity of Babylon has been ended, and the Antichrist with his hosts destroyed.

  Underneath, in Hebrew, was written, “And at that time shall Michael stand up. And war broke out in heaven.” The Michael to whom he referred was not himself but rather the archangel Michael, with whom Servetus felt at least a strong bond and perhaps even a transmuted identity. Servetus believed that the Apocalypse was at hand and this was his declaration of war, a call to revolution against the abominations unto God and the tyranny imposed by both the pope and the Reformer.

  The task we have set ourselves here is truly sublime; for it is nothing less than to make God known in his substantial manifestation by The Word and his divine communication by the Spirit, both comprised in Christ, through whom alone do we learn how divineness of the Word and the Spirit may be apprehended in Man. Hidden from human sight in former times, God is now both manifested and communicated to the world… to the end that we may see him face to face as it were in Creation, and feel him intuitively but lucidly declared in ourselves. It is high time that the door leading to knowledge of this kind were opened; for otherwise no one can either know God truly, read the Scriptures aright, or be a Christian.

  In the body of the work, all the old themes were there: the injustice of infant baptism, the contortions of the Scriptures, the myth that was the Trinity, but most of all, the assertion that God existed in all people and things. In contrast to his earlier books, his language was sophisticated, and each argument was laid out in scrupulous (and often suffocating) detail. There were discourses and dialogues, the latter featuring Michael and Peter, the same two names he had used in Two Dialogues on the Trinity.

  The book was to be published anonymously, but the manuscript contained several laughably obvious clues. At one point in the dialogues, Peter says to Michael, “I perceive you are Servetus.” Also opting for maximum provocation over discretion, Servetus included, right up front, the text of the thirty letters that he had written to Calvin.

  SERVETUS HAD A MANUSCRIPT, now he needed a publisher. The heretical nature of the work was obvious, so the Trechsels were out of the question. Frellon was a possibility, but that would mean compromising a friend if the Inquisition reacted badly, a distinct possibility.

  Instead, Servetus sought printers outside of France who might be sympathetic to his views. He sent the manuscript to a friend of his, a publisher named Martin Borrhaus in Basel. Borrhaus wrote back:

  The Grace and Peace of God be with you, dearest Michael! I have received your letter and your book; but I fancy that on reflection you will see why it cannot be published in Basel at the present time. When I have perused it [more carefully] I shall therefore return it to you by the accredited messenger you may send for it. But I beg you not to question my friendly feelings toward you. To what you say besides I shall reply at greater length on another occasion. Farewell! Thy

  MARRINUS BASEL, APRIL 9, 1552

  Borrhaus did not express any surprise at the content of the book, so he must have been aware that his friend Michael (either as Vil-lanovanus or Servetus) held these extreme views. It is also unlikely that this was the only person in whom Servetus had confided—there seems to have been a network of like-minded individuals, although it is impossible to say how big or far-flung this network was. But it is clear that for much of his time in Vienne, Servetus had been leading a double life.

  Finally, five months later, he found a pair of brothers-in-law, Balthazar Arnoullet and Guillaume Geroult, who had recently established a small printing firm in Lyon with a branch in Vienne. Geroult handled the editorial end, and Arnoullet took care of the business side. During his last sales trip to Geneva, Geroult had run afoul of the Ordinances and been accused of “sexual irregularity.” He had been dragged in front of Calvin himself, where he was publicly humiliated, then fined and banished. The temptation to get even by publishing Christianismi Restitutio (especially after Servetus agreed to foot the entire cost of printing and pay a bonus on top of it) overwhelmed caution. Geroult outflanked his brother-in-law, a Calvin supporter, by withholding information as to the true nature of the material.

  Still, Arnoullet should have suspected something. None of the work was done by the firm's regular employees, nor was it done in their regular print shop. Instead, Geroult set up a secret press in a cabin in the woods and staffed it with pressmen hired specifically for the job. The author edited his own work. As soon as each page was typeset, the manuscript leaf from which it had come was burned. The title page was notable in that neither the author's nor the publisher's name appeared (although, once again unable to resist, Servetus appended the letters “M S V” as a colophon).

  Finally, after four months, a thousand octavos (this was a book for the people) were ready for shipment. On January 3, 1553, the first batch of five hundred books, hidden in bales of hay, was dispatched by horse cart to Frankfurt for sale at the upcoming book fair. Another shipment went to a printer in Lyon for safekeeping. A third was sent to a bookseller in Geneva.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ALMOST NOTHING HAPPENED in Geneva that Calvin did not know about. Very soon after its arrival and before it could ever go on sale, he had a copy of Christianismi Restitutio in his hands.

  By 1553, with the threat of Savoy and the pope's interference only a distant memory, Genevans were once again rankling at the extreme restrictions on their day-to-day lives. Their displeasure was enhanced by the fact that the many French refugees who now chose to resettle in Geneva seemed to be gobbling up all the good jobs.

  Calvin's opposition called itself les enfants de Genève, children of the republic, and had formed the Patriot Party, which became known as the “Libertines.” Among its leaders were veterans, or sons of veterans, of the wars against Savoy, such men as Ami Perrin and Philabert Berthe-lier. The Libertines' strength was concentrated in the civil government, in the Little Council and the Council of Two Hundred, while Calvin dominated the Consistory, the roster of pastors.

  By early 1553, the escalation of hostilities between the two sides had brought them to the brink of outright war. The previous year, Calvin had excommunicated Berthelier, and the Little Council had been moving closer and closer to negating the Ordinances by reinstating him. By the time Christianismi Restitutio had settled in Calvin's hands, the situation was tenuous, and there was a possibility that despite his international renown he would once again be kicked out of Geneva.

  When he saw the book, he knew that regardless of what happened in the city, he could at least be rid of Servetus and, with some deft maneuvering, might even persuade his enemies to handle the entire messy affair. But he could not be seen as taking a personal hand in the matter. After all the letters at the
beginning of the book were to him, and his involvement could easily be interpreted as a personal vendetta and not a theological dispute. This might provide just the embarrassment that the Libertines were waiting for.

  Calvin resolved upon a plan. First he banned the book in Geneva. Then he ripped out the first sixteen pages of his copy and summoned a loyal subordinate, a Genevan merchant named Guillaume de Trie.

  A few days later, on February 26, 1553, Trie sent a letter to his cousin, Antoine Arneys, who lived in Lyon. Trie was originally from Lyon himself—in fact, he had been a sheriff there—but had fled four years earlier as part of the French religious migration. Arneys remained staunchly Catholic, but the cousins had kept up a correspondence. Religious differences being what they were, relations between the two had sometimes been strained, each using his letters to undermine the theological position of the other.

  The French inquisitors had recently arrested five students from Switzerland on grounds of spreading heresy, and Arneys, in his previous letter, had accused the reformers in Geneva of perpetuating a system that led to chaos and disorder. Trie replied:

  My dear cousin, I express my sincere thanks for your beautiful admonishments which you made trying to brief me on the situation here. I do not doubt that they came from your feelings of deep friendship. I see, however, (thank God) that the vices are corrected better here than by your regulations. We would not suffer that the name of God be blasphemed and that the wrong doctrines and opinions are spread without repression. You tolerate among you a heretic who deserves to be burned wheresoever he may be. When a man says that the Trinity… is a Cerebus and an infernal monster, and when he disgorges all the villainies possible to think of against all that the Scriptures teach us about the eternal generation of the Son of God… I ask in what place and in what esteem would you hold him?… I have to speak frankly… one should not be content simply to put to death such men, but they should be most cruelly burned. Please show me where is the zeal you are so proud of and where is the enforcement of law by your splendid hierarchy you so glorify? The man of whom I speak has been condemned by all the churches you reprove, yet you tolerate him among you to the point that he could print his books full of blasphemies that I need say no more.

  Just in case Arneys (or whoever else might subsequently see the letter) was a bit slow at picking up the hint, Trie did say more:

  This man is a Portuguese Spaniard, named Michael Servetus by his real name but who is at present using the name of Vil-leneuve and who practices medicine. He had lived during a certain time in Lyon, and is now at Vienne, where the book about which I talk has been printed in the printing office of a certain Balthazar Arnoullet. And in order that you would not think that I speak without foundation, I am sending you the first leaf [sixteen pages] for your information.

  “WHEN ARNEYS GOT HIS cousin's letter, he reacted precisely as Calvin had anticipated and forwarded the letter and the sixteen pages to the local authorities. They, in turn, sent the material directly to the President of the Ecclesiastical Court of the Holy Apostolic See, the Inquisitor General of the Faith in the Kingdom of France and Gaul, a ferocious zealot and dogged persecutor of heretics, the Dominican friar Matthieu Ory.

  Ory, essentially the head of the national religious police, wasted no time in contacting the vicar of Lyon, Benoît Bautier. Agreeing on the need for speed and stealth but mindful of the chain of command, on March 13 Ory drafted a letter to an aide to Cardinal de Tournon, who, now unwelcome at court, was staying at the Château de Roussillon, just south of Vienne.

  I wish to inform you in high secret about certain books that are being printed in Vienne and which contain execrable blasphemies against the divinity of Jesus Christ and the Holy Trinity and whose author and printer are in the region. The reverend Vicar and I have seen the book and we agreed that one of us or we both should go and talk to the Monseigneur… The reverend Vicar writes to you about this in such a secret that your left hand should not know what your right hand is doing. We ask you only to ask orally Monseigneur the Cardinal if he knows a certain physician named Villanovanus and a printer Arnoullet, because the matter concerns them both.

  Upon reading the letter, Tournon summoned Bautier and the vicar of Vienne and instructed the latter to deliver a written order to Guy de Maugiron, lieutenant governor of Dauphiny. It instructed Maugiron to proceed on the charges “with extreme diligence and… under the strictest possible secrecy.” Tournon went on to add, “I am sure of the zeal which you have, and that you will not spare even your own son in this matter for the honor of God and his Church.”

  Maugiron, a friend and patient of Dr. Villeneuve, was in a tricky spot. The doctor had cured his son of a fever, tantamount in those days to saving someone's life. Maugiron was in no position to ignore a direct order from a cardinal, but neither was he prepared to forget who had really spared his son.

  Nonetheless, on March 16 the trap appeared set. The local judges convened at Maugiron's house and sent a message to Dr. Villeneuve that they needed to speak to him on a matter of great importance. After two hours, the doctor still had not appeared and the judges began to be concerned, but then Villeneuve arrived, bidding those assembled good day with an air of casual self-confidence. When questioned, he denied that he was Servetus or that he had ever engaged in heretical behavior. Furthermore, as a longtime resident of Vienne, well known by the town's prominent churchmen—including the archbishop and the cardinal—he was at a loss to explain how such scurrilous accusations could possibly have been lodged against him. When the judges informed him that they intended a search of his home, he made no objection whatever.

  The search turned up nothing—not a book, a document, or a note. Not a single piece of evidence, including the letters from Calvin, was left to connect Villeneuve to Servetus. There were two copies of a paper on astrology written by Michael Villanovanus, but since they were in the house of Michael Villanovanus, that could hardly be considered incriminating.

  The next day, the judges went to the printing house of Arnoullet and Geroult, confronted Geroult (Arnoullet was out of town), and questioned him for hours. Geroult denied any knowledge of any heretical tract. The judges then examined each of the printers and compositors individually, as well as each of their wives and all of the servants in the house. They showed the printers the pages that Arneys had received in the mail. The terrified printers denied ever seeing them before. The characters were not the same as those they used in their typesetting, the paper was different, and they had not produced an octavo in over two years. A check of the Arnoullet catalog confirmed all that they had said. The printers were then warned that if they revealed details of the investigation to anyone, they would stand trial for heresy.

  The judges had one last card to play. They waited for Arnoullet to return and then accosted him before he could speak to anyone. The astonished Arnoullet appeared completely baffled by the accusation… as, in fact, he was, since Geroult had told him nothing about the book.

  At this point, the judges faced a dilemma. If they dismissed the matter as a case of mistaken identity and then were found to be wrong, they might well have to face the wrath of Ory and the Inquisition themselves. On the other hand, Dr. Villeneuve was a long-standing and respected member of the community, a fact that he himself had taken pains to point out, and an unfounded persecution might have equally unpleasant consequences. The judges decided to throw the matter up the line and referred it to Archbishop Palmier. Palmier refused to accept on the basis of an unsupported accusation that his friend, doctor, collaborator, and former teacher had deceived him. He summoned Ory to Vienne personally. If he was going to go on with this, he told the Inquisitor, he had better be absolutely sure.

  Feared and powerful though he was, Matthieu Ory was not about to commit himself to prosecuting such a well-connected citizen without more proof. He returned to Lyon to indulge in a bit of counterespionage. He called in Arneys and dictated a letter in which Trie was asked to send along a copy of the entire book.
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  Instead of sending the book, Calvin decided to provide a more definitive form of proof without abandoning what politicians in a later era would call “plausible deniability.” The letter that Trie sent on March 16 in reply to Arneys's request was a masterpiece of misdirection.

  My dear cousin,

  When I wrote the letter that you have communicated to those whom I charged with indifference, I did not suppose the matter would go so far. I simply meant to call your attention to the fine zeal and devotion of those who call themselves the pillars of the Church, although they suffer such disorder in their midst, and persecute so severely the poor Christians who wish to follow God in simplicity [this referring to the five students]. Inasmuch as this glaring instance had been brought to my notice, the occasion and subject seemed to me to warrant mentioning the matter in my letters. But since you have disclosed what I meant for you alone, God grant that this may the better serve to purge Christianity of such filth, such deadly pestilence. If they really wish to do anything, as you say, it does not seem to me that the matter is so very difficult, though I cannot for the moment give you what you want, namely the printed book. But I can give you something better to convict him, namely two dozen manuscript pieces of the man in question, in which his heresies are in part contained. If you show him the printed book, he can deny it, which he cannot do in respect of his handwriting. The case then being proved, the men of whom you speak will have no excuse for further dissimulation or delay.

  The manuscript pieces of which Trie wrote were the letters that Servetus had written to Calvin and the scathing marginal comments with which Servetus had notated Calvin's Institutes seven years before. Since there could be no doubt as to the source of this material, Calvin had Trie write the following: