Museum of the Reformation
Doolan, Paul
August 1st, 2005
History Today, Volume 55; Issue 8
 Paul
Doolan visits a new museum in Geneva that presents the history
of Reformed Christianity and Calvinism as a key and positive
factor in European history.
PERHAPS THE MOST REMARKABLE THING about Geneva's new International
Museum of the Reformation is that it has taken so long: in
1959, on the 400th anniversary of the publication of Calvin's
Institutes, the idea was first floated that a museum should
be founded in Geneva, the Rome of Protestantism. In April
the museum finally opened its doors, with an impressive array
of objects relating to Calvin and the Reformation in Geneva
and its expansion throughout the world.
The new museum is housed on the ground floor of the eighteenth-century
Mallet House, next to the St Pierre Cathedral, where John
Knox once preached, and on the spot where the town council
declared the city Reformed in May 1536. The museum, like the
Reformed churches that it celebrates, is rich in texts. An
early English Bible created by refugees fleeing Mary Tudor
and dedicated to Elizabeth is prominently displayed, as are
early French, Italian and German translations of God's, word.
A replica of an early printing press stands in a corner that
celebrates John Knox, who also found refuge in this city.
One room remembers the French Wars of Religion and displays
a collection of printed works and manuscripts donated by the
art collector Jean Paul Barbier-Mueller. The documents here
include autographs from Francis I, Henry III and Henry IV
as well as Catherine de' Medici.
Too much text might prove tedious, especially for the visitor
who lacks a command of Latin or French. But in the banqueting
hall, modern technology permits one to eavesdrop a conversation
among Geneva's citizens and reformers, from Calvin to Rousseau,
on the topic of predestination. Calvin's views on the subject
are famous - humans are depraved creatures, damned to hell,
and only a few will be saved by God's grace. The nineteenth-century
drawing room allows you to sit on a modern glass chair and
enjoy a fifteen-minute audio-visual about the Reformation
on your own private screen. Technology is wonderful only when
it works: on the day of my visit, alas, it didn't.
The tiny music room, with amazing acoustics, provides the
visitor with a menu of musical choices from Luther to Bach
to contemporary chorale pieces. Surrounded by the magnificence
of the human voice, one can understand that it was music,
in particular the metrical psalter, and not the pessimistic
dogma of predestination, that was the secret of Calvinism's
success.
From Geneva, Calvin's teaching spread to South Africa by
way of Holland, America by way of England, and found a home
in Scotland and the north of Ireland. It is no wonder that
Museum director Isabelle Graessle describes the museum as
'a must in order to understand Geneva as a city, as a culture
and as the core of one of the major spiritual streams in Europe
and elsewhere.'
Calvin's legacy was undoubtedly humanistic: its sobriety
attracted the new urban bourgeoisie and its intellectual rigour
appealed to some of Europe's finest minds; it promoted literacy,
individuality and free enterprise. But the museum fails to
dwell on the darker aspects of early Reformation Geneva. Audio-visual
displays and poignant engravings document the trials and tribulations
of the Waldensians (members of the heresy that had survived
in Alpine areas since the twelfth century, and who were given
asylum in Geneva) and the persecution of French Huguenots
after the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes in 1685. But Reformers
were not the only victims. Under Calvin's leadership the people
of Geneva endured a regime of harsh discipline. Dancing, drinking,
gambling and singing bawdy songs were denounced. Engaging
in flirtation, the wearing of bright clothes or the reading
of frivolous books could bring about the wrath of the religious
authorities. Some crimes were punishable by drowning, beheading
and burning. Protestant Geneva was a cruel as anywhere else
when it came to the churchsanctioned killings of socalled
witches. Those who disagreed with Calvin, and there were many,
were silenced by imprisonment, exile, or even death.
The most notorious case was that of Michel Servetus. A medical
doctor and anatomist as well as a priest, Servetus made the
fatal error of suggesting that God could not be composed of
the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. The Catholic Church
and the fledgling Protestant churches joined together in denouncing
this antitrinitarianism. Servetus, condemned to death by the
Inquisition, fled from Catholic Lyon to Geneva, where he was
arrested and the city authorities declared: 'we condemn you
Michael Servetus, to be bound and taken to Champel, and there
attached to a stake and burned with your book to ashes'. His
execution met with Calvin's approval. Reformation historian
Diarmaid MacCulloch has described this incident as 'an extraordinary
saga of ecumenical viciousness'.
Geneva makes a splendid destination for anyone with an interest
in the Reformation and this museum should be on everyone's
itinerary. But you will need to search hard to find any mention
of Michel Servetus.
Perhaps the most remarkable thing about Geneva's new International
Museum of the Reformation is that it has taken so long: in
1959, on the 400th anniversary of the publication of Calvin's
Institutes, the idea was first floated that a museum should
be founded in Geneva, the Rome of Protestantism. In April,
the museum finally opened its doors, with an impressive array
of objects relating to Calvin and the Reformation in Geneva
and its expansion throughout the world. Doolan visits a new
museum in Geneva that presents the history of Reformed Christianity
and Calvinism as a key and positive factor in European history.
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