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

Such was the Council of Halberds . It had given Geneva the Duke of Savoy for her protector , and had imposed on the citizens obedience towards that prince. An encroaching, powerful, able court, like that of Turin, could easily make an hereditary sovereignty out of such a concession. But a course of violence and stratagem provokes the resistance of noble minds. After the action of despotism, the reaction of liberty was to begin; the bow too violently bent by the duke was to break in his hand.

The next day, in fact, Charles, who fancied himself already prince of the city, wishing to enter upon his new career, requested the city to hand over to him the jurisdiction in criminal matters, which was refused. Nor was this the only check; the procurator-fiscal having, by his Highness’s orders, sent from house to house to collect votes against the alliance with the Swiss, many flatly refused to give them. At this moment the duke appeared as if he were stunned. He had matters on his mind which troubled and disturbed him; they made him mistrustful and anxious. The assembled people had just taken the oath of obedience to him ... and to his first two requests (such legitimate requests as he thought them) they had replied by a No! After having given an example of his extreme violence, Charles gave another of his extreme weakness. He thought Geneva crushed; but Geneva, even when crushed, alarmed him. He pressed his foot upon her neck, but he felt the corpse moving under him. Even the mamelukes he began to consider as obstinate republicans, secretly defending their independence. His head began to reel, his heart to fail him. The essential trait of his character, it will be remembered, was to begin everything and finish nothing. This union of violence and folly, of which several Roman emperors have furnished examples, was found also in Charles. At the moment he had gained an important victory, and just as it was necessary for him to remain on the field of battle to profit by it, he turned his back and fled precipitately into Piedmont. It was asserted that Beatrice had recalled him. ‘Venus overcame Pallas,’ says Bonivard. The prior of St. Victor is always inclined to be sarcastic. But if (as is possible) it was the desire to join the duchess which induced Charles III. to let that city of Geneva slip from his hands, which the house of Savoy had coveted for ages, it is a proof that if he was violent enough to take it, he was too weak to keep it. However that may be, on the 12th of December, 1525, the duke quitted the city, and from that day neither he nor his successors entered it again. If Charles had remained, and followed the advice of his ministers, he would probably have established his authority, and bound Geneva to Rome. The triumph of the power of Savoy at the extremity of Lake Leman would have had serious consequences. But the victory he was about to win—which he had even gained ... was lost by his cowardly desertion, and lost for ever. 387

So did not think the syndic Montyon and fifty of the most servile mamelukes. Proud of the decision of the Council of Halberds, they resolved to make it known to the Swiss. The horseman intrusted with the message departed, and, on his arrival at Friburg, delivered the letters to the avoyer. ‘The fugitives are deceiving you,’ said the writers; ‘the entire community desires to live under the protection of our most dread lord the Duke of Savoy.’ This accusation revived all the energy of the huguenots. The mamelukes charged them with lying.... From that hour they feared neither the dungeon nor the sword. Imprison them in Cæsar’s tower, in the castle of Bonne, or elsewhere, it matters not: they are ready to expose themselves to the violence of the enemy. ‘Appoint a commissioner,’ said some of them; ‘let him come with us to Geneva, and he will tell you which of the two has lied, we or the mamelukes.’ John Lullin and two or three of his friends departed without a safe-conduct, accompanied by De Sergine, a Friburg notary, resolved to prove that Geneva desired to be free. The unexpected news of Lullin’s arrival spread through the city; numbers of citizens immediately crowded round the bold and imprudent huguenot, gazed upon him with tenderness, and anxiously asked for news of the exiles. Fathers, brothers, sons, friends came in great anxiety of mind to hear the tidings of those they loved dearest. ‘Alas!’ said Lullin, ‘how can I tell of their misery and sorrow?’ ... He described them as exiled, oppressed with fears for their country, despised by some, ill-treated by others, destitute, ‘reduced to Job’s dunghill,’ obliged in order to support their families to receive alms from such strangers as had compassion on their wretchedness. But here the generous huguenot, whose wounded heart was bursting with tears and full of bitterness, could contain himself no longer: ‘It is you,’ he exclaimed, ‘it is you that increase our sorrow—yes, you!’ He indignantly complained that the Genevans remaining in Geneva disavowed those who had left it to save her independence, and made them pass for liars. He asked them how it was that, as the foreign prince had fled beyond the Alps, Geneva did not reclaim the liberty which he had taken away. ‘Is it thus that citizens defend the ancient rights handed down by their fathers?’ This touching language, the presence of him who uttered it and of the two or three fugitives at his side, the sight of their poverty, their distress, their patriotism, and their heroic courage, stirred the citizens. The Savoyard agents, Balleyson, Saleneuve, and their soldiers, remained in the city to no purpose: Geneva awoke from her slumbers. ‘Friburg desires to know the real state of this city?’ said a few patriots to Sergine; ‘come, then, with us to the council—come and see for yourself.’ The most energetic men were still in Switzerland; but by degrees all in Geneva who loved liberty were seen to shake off the silence to which they had been reduced. They encouraged one another to make an imposing demonstration. Erelong the justification of the foreigners took place, and it was conducted with all the solemnity that a simple people could give it. 388

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On the 22nd of December, ten days after Charles’s departure, crowds of citizens poured from every quarter towards the hôtel-de-ville. The syndics and the council, who were then sitting, were informed that certain persons desired to be admitted; the doors were opened, and the petitioners entered. At their head walked John Bandière, a man about sixty years old, whose son Ami (syndic in the Reformation year) was among the fugitives. This venerable man advanced, surrounded by the children of his son and of other exiles. 389With him came several citizens who, though they had remained in the background during recent events, might yet with good right appear in the front line. There was the amiable Ami Porral, afterwards syndic, who zealously embraced the evangelical faith; Pierre de Joye, cousin of that De Joye whom Bishop John had desired to put to death; the bold Robert Vandel, syndic in 1529, his brother Peter, Sept, De Chapeaurouge, Falquet, Lect, Delapalud, Malbuisson, Favre, Lullin, Denis Hugues, son of the estimable Besançon: in short, says a document of the time, about 100 citizens, the flower of Geneva. These men desired not only to bear testimony in favour of men unjustly accused; but observing that those to whom the reins of the State had been confided were slumbering, that the chariot was leaving the track and about to fall into the ditch, they thought it their duty to set the drivers on the right road. Bandière, his face wet with tears (says a manuscript), spoke first: ‘Most honourable lords,’ he said, ‘you see these children; do you not know their fathers? Are not these poor little ones orphans already, though their fathers are still alive?’ 390—‘Yes,’ exclaimed the councillors.—‘Those citizens,’ continued Bandière, ‘who, for having defended the liberties of Geneva, were compelled, through a thousand dangers, to seek refuge in Germany yonder, 391—are not they good men?’ ... ‘They are,’ was the answer. ‘Are they not citizens of this city—the good men whose fathers, sons, and connections you have before you?’—It was cheerfully acknowledged.