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

But if Bonivard was opposed to the despotism of princes, he was equally so to the disorders of the people. Accordingly he did not hesitate, but hurried to the episcopal vicar’s. De Gingins, who was waiting for the return of his messenger in the keenest anxiety, flew to meet the prior, exclaiming: ‘Ah, St. Victor, if you do not give orders, some disaster will happen to the canons. Our folks have done a foolish thing, and the people have heard of it: see if you can quiet them.’ 209

Bonivard hastily lighted a torch (for it was night) and ran to meet the people. He found them at the top of the Perron, a steep street, which opens between the cathedral and the Rue des Chanoines. Berthelier and the ex-syndic Hugues ‘were in front,’ he tells us. The former of the two, seeing his friend Bonivard at the top of the street, with a furred amice upon his head, holding a torch in one hand, and with the other making eager signs for them to stop, exclaimed with an oath: ‘Ah! you Bouche-Coppons , you make a fair show in front with treachery behind.’—‘Bouche-Coppon (or hooded friar) was a name they gave us,’ says the prior, ‘because we carried the amice on our heads in winter.’ 210

The moment was critical: the trembling canons expected to see the people fall upon them; some of their servants, peering anxiously down the Perron, from the top of the street watched the movements of the crowd, and of a sudden shrank back with terror on hearing the shouts of the advancing huguenots. In fact the people were exasperated and demanded that the priests should be brought to account for meddling with politics. Bonivard did not flinch: ‘Gently, good sirs,’ he said to the citizens, ‘do not be vexed at trifles; there is not so much harm done as you think.’ Then ascribing to the canons his own ideas, he continued: ‘These reverend gentlemen have written, that they will not live under other protection than that of God and St. Peter, and that as for the alliance with Friburg, they do not mean either to accept or refuse it.... The letter is not sent yet ... you shall see it!’ Upon this Besançon Hugues motioned the people to halt, and the crowd obeyed a magistrate so respected. On his side Bonivard hastily despatched a messenger to the Bishop of Maurienne, the most intelligent of the canons, instructing him to ‘change promptly the purport of the letter.’ Maurienne privately sent for the secretary and dictated to him a new despatch such as Bonivard required. Berthelier, Hugues, and Pécolat, deputed by the people, arrived shortly after, conducted by Bonivard, when Maurienne showed them the new document. They suspected the trick. ‘Oh no! the ink is still quite wet,’ they said. However, as the contents satisfied them, they would not examine the letter too narrowly, and the people, unwilling to make a disturbance to no purpose, were satisfied also. ‘Let the business be settled this once,’ they said; ‘but let us keep a kick in store for the other courtiers.’ They meant, no doubt, that having given a smart lesson to the canons, they reserved the honour of giving another to the mamelukes. ‘I have inserted this,’ says Bonivard, concluding his account of this incident, ‘to caution all republics never to give credit or authority to people bred in the courts of princes.’ 211

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The duke was at the end of his resources, and the affair of the chapter had raised his indignation to its utmost. There had been comedy enough—it was time now to come to the tragedy. Everything must be prepared to crush Geneva and liberty.

The duke raised an army ‘this side the mountains (that is, in Savoy) as secretly as he could.’ Then fearing lest the Friburgers, if they were warned, should hasten to the support of the city, and wishing ‘to catch the fish without wetting his paws,’ he sent M. de Lambert into Switzerland to amuse the cantons with fine speeches. While the ambassador was thus occupying the attention of Messieurs de Friburg, the Savoyard nobles hastily summoned their vassals to arms. The duke placed his forces under the command of the Sieur de Montrotier, Bonivard’s cousin and an excellent captain. The latter marched off his troops during the night and assembled them in silence round Geneva; so that the duke reached St. Jullien, a league from the city, with seven thousand soldiers, before anything was known of his enterprise. The Savoyards had never done so well before. In a short time the people of the neighbourhood, hurrying in crowds to his standard, raised the ducal army to ten thousand men. 212

Then the duke no longer concealed his intentions. He kept his court at St. Jullien, and there gathered round the prince an ever-increasing number of nobles in rich dresses and splendid armour; and especially of young gentlemen brimful of insolence, who longed to make a campaign against the noisy shopkeepers. Never before had this little town witnessed so much display, or heard so many boasts. ‘We must put them down with our riding-whips,’ said some. No sooner said than done. On the 15th of March, 1519, fifteen of these cavaliers started from St. Jullien to carry out their plan of campaign; they arrived in Geneva, proceeded straight to the hôtel-de-ville, leaving their horses with their servants in the street, and with a swaggering air entered the council-room, all booted and splashed with mud. Not waiting to be offered chairs, they rudely sat down, and without any preface said: ‘My lord, desiring to enter this city, orders you to lay down your arms and to open the gates.’ The Genevan senators, seated in their curule chairs, looked with astonishment at this singular embassy; they restrained themselves, however, and replied at once firmly and moderately that the duke would be welcome at Geneva provided he came with his ordinary retinue, and only to enjoy himself as he had often done before. ‘In that case,’ added the syndics, ‘the arms we carry will be used only to guard him.’ This seemed to imply that another use might be made of them; and accordingly the gentlemen answered haughtily: ‘My lord will enter your city with whom he pleases and do in it as he pleases.’—‘Then,’ answered the syndics bluntly, ‘we will not let him enter.’ At these words the fifteen cavaliers rose up like one man: ‘We will enter in spite of your teeth,’ they said, ‘and we will do in your city whatever we please.’ Then striding noisily across the flagstones with their spurred boots, they left the hall, remounted their horses, and galloped off along the St. Jullien road. 213

As they were seen riding hastily along, fear came over the population. In truth the moment was critical. Geneva was from that time for more than a century under arms, and on repeated occasions, especially at the epoch of the famous escalade in 1602, repelled the attacks of Savoy. But the Reform gave it a strength afterwards which it did not now possess. The Swiss diet ordered them to receive the duke; there were only from ten to twelve thousand souls in the city, including women and children; and the prince of Piedmont, duke of Savoy, was at their gates with ten thousand soldiers. They fancied that Charles was going to enter, to burn and massacre everything: many families fled in alarm with the most valuable of their property. But their flight was useless, for the armed men of Savoy occupied the roads, so that the fugitives came upon them everywhere. Some returned to the city: ‘All the country of Savoy is in arms,’ said they; ‘and many of our people have been taken and put to the torture.’ It was then three o’clock in the afternoon. 214The patriots assembled: Berthelier, Hugues, Bonivard, and many others met in order to come to some understanding. They resolved that it was expedient to send an embassy to Friburg to inform their allies of this incident, and to ask for a garrison, as the duke would not dare to fire a gun at the walls guarded by the League. But whom should they send? Many reasons,—the question of expense being one,—restrained the citizens, for they were poor. Bonivard grew warm: ‘You have exasperated the wolf; he is at your gates ready to devour you,’ he said, ‘and you prefer to let him eat up your milk, your butter, and your cheese—what am I saying? you would sooner let him eat yourselves up than give a share of your pittance to the mastiff that would guard you.’ There was one man in the meeting who never calculated when the object was to save his country: this was Besançon Hugues. He was ill, he had already incurred debt in the cause of Geneva; but that mattered not! ‘I will go,’ said he, and he departed. 215