J. H. Merle D'Aubigné - History of the Reformation in Europe in the Time of Calvin (Vol. 1-8)

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Without delay Berthelier entered upon the work to which he had sworn to devote his life. Wishing to prepare it carefully, he invited the most ardent of the young Genevans to confer with him on the salvation of the country. He did not select for this meeting some lonely field, above the shores of the lake, as the Grütli: he had to deal with the inhabitants of a city and not with the children of the mountains. He therefore took a hall in the principal square of the city, la Place du Molard, then almost washed by the waters of the river, and appointed a time for the meeting when the streets were most thronged. About twilight one afternoon, probably in 1516 (it is difficult to fix precisely the date of this important meeting 96), Berthelier, and then a few other patriots, set out for the Molard: they came from the Rue du Rhone, la Rive, and from the Cité; those who came from the upper part of the town passed down the Rue du Perron. As they walked, they conversed of the tyranny of the bishop and the plots of the princes of Savoy. One of those who appeared to have the most influence was Amadeus de Joye, the son of distinguished, upright, and honourable parents, who had brought him up virtuously. The public voice, while proclaiming him ‘a merry fellow,’ added that he was honest and straightforward, and connected with all the good men of the city: he exercised the honourable vocation of druggist and apothecary, and had always enjoyed a good reputation in his business. Not far from him was Andrew Navis: a change had taken place in the son of the procurator-fiscal. The cause of liberty had dawned upon his ardent soul in all its beauty: in it he fancied he had found the unknown good he had sought so eagerly; his imagination had been inflamed, his heart moved, and leaving the Savoyard party, of which his father was one of the chiefs, he rushed with all his natural impetuosity to the side of independence. One of his friends, John Biderman, surnamed Blanchet, had accompanied him, a young man about twenty-four years old. Full of natural wit, disliking work, very fond of fun, Blanchet ‘trotted up and down,’ picked up all the news, repeated it at random, and meddled in everybody’s business. He had, however, at bottom a sensitive heart, and the tyranny of the bishop provoked him. Berthelier, who was among the earliest arrivals, scanned attentively the young people and the earnest men who had joined them, and experienced a feeling of happiness at the sight. There was in him a being superior to the follies of banquets. The daily routine, the small passions, the vulgarity of mind, life such as he had hitherto known it, wearied him. At last he had before him an assembly brought together for the noble cause of independence; and for that reason he affectionately pressed the hand of all comers. At this moment the bell rang for vespers at Magdalen old church, and was distinctly heard at the Molard. There were present with Berthelier about fifty citizens—a small meeting, and yet more numerous than that of Walter Fürst and his friends. Besides, did not all noble hearts in Geneva beat in harmony with those of the fifty patriots? 97

They gathered in a circle round Berthelier, and stood silent; the heroic citizen reminded them that from the most remote times Geneva had been free; but that for one or two centuries the princes of Savoy had been trying to enslave it, and that the duke only waited for the favourable opportunity to impose his usurped sovereignty upon their country. Then fixing his noble look upon his audience, he asked them if they wished to transmit to their children not liberty but ... slavery? The citizens answered No, and demanded anxiously how the liberties of the city could effectually be saved? ‘How!’ said Berthelier. ‘By being united, by forgetting our private quarrels, by opposing with one mind every violation of our rights. We have all the same franchises, let us all have the same heart. If the bishop’s officers lay hands on one of us, let all the others defend him with their swords, their nails, their teeth!’ 98Then he exclaimed: ‘ Who touches one, touches all .’ At these words they all raised their hands and said: ‘Yes, yes! one heart, one common cause! Who touches one, touches all!’—‘Good,’ resumed Berthelier, ‘let this motto be the name of our alliance, but let us be faithful to the noble device. If the bishop’s constables take one of us to prison, let us rescue him from their hands. If they indulge in criminal extortions, let us seek out the abominable plunder even in their houses.’ And then he repeated in a loud voice: ‘ Who touches one, touches all !’ And yet in the midst of this enthusiasm, the marks of fear could be seen on some faces. One citizen asked with considerable uneasiness what they would do if my lord of Geneva, aided by his Highness, should attack the city with a strong army? ‘Fear nothing,’ answered Berthelier sharply, ‘we have good friends;’ and he added soon after: ‘I will go to the Swiss, I will bring back forces, and then ... I will settle accounts with our adversaries.’ 99

From that time the consultations and debates became more and more frequent: the discussions went on in private families, at St. Victor’s, in the houses of the principal citizens, sometimes even in the public places: men reminded each other of the customs and franchises of Geneva, and promised to be mutually faithful.

One day Berthelier, Blanchet, and several other citizens meeting at Mugnier’s to discourse round the table about the common interest, unfortunately brought with them a vile and corrupt fellow, a creature of the bishop’s, named Carmentrant. They sat down, the wine circulated, and their heads soon became heated: ‘The bishop,’ said one of them, ‘has sold Geneva to the duke!’—‘If he breaks his oath,’ said another, ‘his treason does not free us from ours. When princes trample the law under foot, the citizens ought to uphold it at any cost.’—‘We must let the bishop know,’ added Berthelier, ‘the resolution we have adopted to defend our independence.’—‘That is not easy,’ observed one; ‘how can we approach my lord and dare tell him all the truth?’—‘Let us mask ourselves,’ returned he; ‘we may say hard things under our masks.... Let us make a momon at the palace.’ The momon was a bet made by maskers when playing at dice. Pécolat did not seem convinced. ‘Leave that to me,’ said Berthelier, ‘I shall find a way of speaking to the prelate.’ Carmentrant listened in silence; he engraved in his memory every word of the great patriot, ready to add to them his private interpretations. He asserted afterwards that Berthelier proposed attacking the prelate’s life; but the contrary was proved, and even the farce of the momon was never carried out. That mattered not; the smallest joke at that time was metamorphosed into the crime of high treason. 100

Berthelier was not the only person the bishop caused to be watched; Bonivard, ever sparkling with wit, gave opportunities to informers. He had at that time a difference with the bishop about the right of fishing in the Rhone. One day when walking with Berthelier and other friends, he complained of the prelate’s avarice; and then indulging in a joke, he said laughingly: ‘If ever I meet him near my fishery, one or other of us will catch an ugly fish.’ This was made a principal charge against him: he wished to drown the bishop. They were mistaken: Bonivard was not a violent character; but he was ambitious, and, without wishing the bishop any harm, he secretly aspired to the bishopric. ‘I will go to Rome,’ said he to one of his intimate friends, ‘and will not have my beard shaved until I am bishop of Geneva.’