THE PEOPLE IN GENERAL COUNCIL VOTE FOR THE ALLIANCE. THE DUKE INTRIGUES
AGAINST IT.
(FEBRUARY AND MARCH 1519.)
The Genevans knew what sort of report would be made of them at Turin;
they therefore resolved to forestall the duke and to conclude as
soon as possible an alliance with the Swiss, which would permit them
vigorously to repel the Savoyards. Nothing could be more lawful.
Liberty was of old date in Geneva: the despotism of the princes was
an innovation. The people having met according to custom on Sunday,
February 6, 1519, to elect the four syndics for the year, Besançon
Hugues came forward. At first he seemed to be speaking in personal
explanation, but one only thought filled his heart--he wished to
see Geneva united to Switzerland. To propose this openly would
endanger his life, and perhaps give an advantage to the enemy; he
therefore proceeded artfully to work. ‘Sovereign lords,’ said he,
‘the ambassadors of Savoy spoke of conspirators; I think they meant
me, and had my journey to Friburg in their mind. Now, I declare that
I have done nothing contrary to the duty of a citizen.... Besides,’
added he, as if parenthetically, ‘if you desire to know all about it,
you will find it explained at length in a letter from the council of
Friburg.’--‘The letter, read the letter,’ they cried out. This was
just what Hugues wanted: Friburg would thus make the proposal which he
dared not bring forward himself. The letter was read before all the
assembly. ‘When it shall please the entire community of Geneva to join
in friendship and citizenship with the people of Friburg,’ said the
writer, ‘the latter will agree cheerfully, without prejudice either to
the rights of the bishop and prince of Geneva, or to the liberties and
franchises of the city, and neither of the parties shall pay tribute to
the other.’[195]
When they heard this loyal and generous letter, the people were
enraptured. The Swiss themselves were stretching out their hands to
them. The joy was universal; there was a cry for the offer of these
noble confederates to be put to the vote. Montyon, the mameluke syndic,
was alarmed; he was taken unawares; that immense affair against which
the bishop and Savoy were uniting their forces was about to be carried
as if by storm. Even the patriotic Vandel was intimidated, and proposed
that they should proceed immediately to the election of the syndics
conformably to the order of the day. It was too late. Since the 22nd of
December, Berthelier and his friends had displayed unwearied activity:
in six weeks the huguenot party had made immense progress. Desire,
hope, and joy animated the citizens. Another feeling, however, was
mingled with this enthusiasm, and it was indignation. The ambassadors
of Savoy had insinuated, it will be remembered, that Geneva would
have to pay tribute to Friburg. ‘Where are those famous gold florins,
with which they frightened us?’ said the citizens. ‘The duke who
is only a civil officer among us, in his desire to become prince,
condescends to vile falsehoods in order that he may succeed!’ ... From
every quarter rose the cry: ‘A poll, a poll! citizenship with Friburg!
A poll, a poll!’ As the two first syndics obstinately refused, Hugues
remembered that there are moments when audacity alone can save a
people. He laid aside his habitual scruples, and acting solely on his
own responsibility, he proposed the alliance. ‘Yes, yes,’ replied
the majority of the assembly with uplifted hands. A few mamelukes,
surprised, disconcerted, and disheartened, remained silent and
still.[196]
Thus, at the very moment when the court of Turin was expressing its
discontent at the acquittal of Berthelier, the people replied by a
resolution which threatened still more the ambitious designs of Savoy.
The citizens of Geneva opened their gates to the Swiss. By turning
their backs on the south, they forsook despotism and popery; by turning
towards the north, they invited liberty and truth.
The nomination of the syndics, which came next, seemed to confirm this
solemn vote: it was the most huguenot election ever known. Three of the
new syndics were devoted partisans of independence, namely, Stephen
de la Mare, a connection of the Gingins, who had accompanied Hugues
to Friburg; John Baud, Hugues’ brother-in-law; and Louis Plongeon,
seignior of Bellerive. Guiges Prévost, the premier syndic, had indeed
very close relations with the ducal party, but he was a man of good
intentions. Many old councillors had to make way for devoted patriots.
Geneva was beginning to soar: it desired to be free. Ambassadors set
off immediately to announce to Friburg that the people had voted the
alliance.[197]
Then burst forth one of those great transports that come over a whole
nation, when after many struggles it catches a glimpse of liberty.
In all the city there were bonfires, cheering, songs, processions,
and banquets. But here and there, in the midst of this great joy,
there were gloomy faces to be seen; the mamelukes strove in vain to
keep down their anger; it broke out suddenly in insults and riots.
The reaction was indeed prompt: in the presence of the simple joy of
the people, the duke’s friends drew closer together, and their party
was organised. The house of Savoy had still many adherents in Geneva,
capable of opposing the desire for independence and truth. There were
old Savoyard families devoted to the duke; persons who were sold to
him; young men of birth, enthusiasts of absolute power; priests and
laymen enamoured of Rome; traders averse to a war that would injure
their business; weak men, trembling at the least commotion, and many
low people without occupation, who are easily excited to riot. The
party felt the necessity of calculating their strength and coming
to some understanding; but it was not its most prominent leaders
who placed themselves in the front. Francis Cartelier, a native of
Bresse, and syndic in 1516, a lettered, prudent, and cunning but
mean man, convened its principal members in a room at the convent of
Rive, which was called ‘the little stove.’ Thither came in succession,
besides Montyon and Nergaz, whom we know already, other mamelukes
young and full of zeal: Messieurs de Brandis, who were at the head
of Genevan society; the two De Fernex, who derived their name from a
lordship which became famous in after years; Marin de Versonex, whose
family was distinguished by its good works, a young man of limited
understanding but ardent imagination, of a disposition easily led away,
and passionately devoted to the Church of Rome, which alone he thought
able to save him; by his side was his cousin Percival de Pesmes, united
to him by a sincere friendship, and whose ancestors had been among
the crusading barons who followed St. Louis; lastly, many other noble
mamelukes, determined to oppose even to death the triumph of the party
of liberty and Switzerland. These old magistrates and these young
nobles found themselves out of their element in Geneva. Sincere for the
most part in their convictions, they believed they saw in the new day
that was rising over the world, a day of tempest which destroying what
existed would put nothing in its place. What must be done to avert so
dire a misfortune? They resolved to inform the duke of the alliance
which had just been voted, and urge him to make every exertion to
prevent its being carried out.[198]
All these efforts were to prove useless. Liberty was beginning to raise
her head in one of the smallest but most ancient cities of the Empire
and the Church. It is a strange thing that the city bearing on its
flag the symbols of these two absolute powers--the key of the popes
and the eagle of the emperors--raised this very significant banner,
and thus proclaimed, as if in a spirit of contradiction, liberty in
Church and State. While other nations (if we except the Swiss League)
were sleeping under the feudal sceptre of their masters, this little
republic in the centre of Europe was awaking. Like a dead man lying in
a vast cemetery, it began to stir and alone came forth triumphant from
its tomb. In all the neighbouring countries, in Switzerland, Savoy,
France, and places more remote, people talked of the strange movements
taking place at Geneva, and of the daring resistance opposed by a
few energetic citizens to a prince who was brother-in-law to Charles
V. and uncle to Francis I. Men of the old times grew alarmed. True,
it was but a cloud, small as a man’s hand, but it might grow into a
fierce tempest in which the two ancient buttresses of feudal and Roman
society--absolute power in spiritual and in temporal matters--might be
shattered. What would happen then? Might not this emancipatory movement
extend through Europe? At Geneva men talked of political liberty; at
Wittemberg of religious reform: if these two streams should chance to
unite, they would make a formidable torrent which would throw down
the edifice of the dark ages and sweep away its ruins into the great
abyss. ‘People spoke everywhere,’ Bonivard tells us, ‘of huguenots and
mamelukes, as they once did of Guelfs and Ghibelines.’ The prior of
St. Victor, to whom these things were reported, reflected on them and
said in his musings: ‘Geneva is beginning to be a member in the body
of christendom of which strange things are said.’ In examining them,
however, he thought there was room for abatement both of hopes and
fears:--‘Fame, as Virgil sings, is a goddess who makes things greater
than they are.’[199] These things were greater than Bonivard thought.
Geneva, by setting out in search of liberty, was to find the Gospel.
The duke, the count, and the bishop, informed successively by their
ambassadors, the vidame, and lastly by the mamelukes of ‘the little
stove,’ ‘drank of these bitter waters’ and asked themselves if they
were going to lose that city from which the house of Savoy had
derived such great profit for centuries. They began to understand the
imprudence of their rough policy; they began to regret the arrests and
the murders; they would have liked that ‘the work was to be done over
again.’ That seemed difficult; yet after many conferences, the three
princes agreed upon certain plans, one or other of which they thought
must succeed.
First: They sought to break the alliance by means of their pensioners
at Friburg. The latter wishing to earn their money began to intrigue,
to declaim, and to discuss. But the Friburgers, devoted to the cause
of Geneva and liberty, resisted them, and the people, discovering
the intrigues of the pensioners, rose against them. There were great
disturbances in the streets, and blows were exchanged. ‘What! does even
Friburg take side with the new ideas?’ people said at the court of
Turin. It was not because they were new, but because they were old,
that Friburg adopted them. The pensioners of Savoy were obliged to
strike their sails, and they wrote to the duke: ‘All who do not dance
to the tune the people play, incur the risk of a beating.[200] ... Will
your Highness pray excuse us?’
This attempt having failed, the court of Turin passed to another,
and endeavoured to win over the leaders of the opposition in Geneva.
‘They open their mouths very wide,’ said the Savoyards; ‘stuff them
with gold.’ Much skill was required to carry out this new manœuvre.
The Bishop of Maurienne, precentor of the cathedral of Geneva, a
supple, able, insinuating man, and tolerably esteemed by the friends
of liberty, was selected by the duke for this delicate mission. The
prince declared to him with the strongest oaths (in order that it
might be repeated) that he had nothing to do with the deaths of Navis
and Blanchet. ‘It was done by my lord of Geneva alone without my
knowledge,’ said he. ‘Ah, I should be very glad it had never happened,
let it cost me ever so much. Repeat all I say to Berthelier. Offer him
gold and silver; in a word, do anything to attach him to my service.’
Maurienne arrived in Geneva. Nobody doubted at that time that every
man had his price. ‘His Highness,’ said the bishop to Berthelier, ‘is
aware that the crimes of which you are accused are the inventions
of your enemies.’ Then came promises of gold and silver. ‘Only,’
added Maurienne, ‘let Geneva renounce her alliance with the Swiss.’
Berthelier, who awaited with unflinching heart the hour when he would
pour out his life for the independence of Geneva, smiled disdainfully
at these words; then he shuddered, and putting aside the gilded yet
poisoned cup which Maurienne presented to him, he answered coldly:
‘A vile interest will never make us render up an innocent people to
the vengeance of your prince.’ Maurienne, rejected by Berthelier,
‘frequented every place of meeting,’ says a manuscript, ‘in order to
prevail upon the chief supporters of the alliance to give it up; but he
only lost his pains.’ All whom he tried to seduce wished to be free and
to join hands with Switzerland.[201]
The duke, seeing that he was labouring in vain, made one more heroic
effort. ‘Well, then,’ he said, ‘let us raise all Switzerland.’ The
energetic Saleneuve, the able Chappuis, and the diplomatic Lambert
were sent as ambassadors from Savoy to the deputies of the cantons
then sitting in diet, and complained bitterly of Geneva. Would that
little city weigh as much in the balance as the powerful house whose
states enclosed the two sides of the Alps? ‘Friburg,’ said president
Lambert, ‘treats with _enclavés_, without the consent of the most
serene prince in whose states they are placed.’ This new name given to
the Genevans amused Bonivard greatly. ‘Oh, oh!’ he said; ‘no longer
daring to call us his subjects, for the word is used up, the duke
styles us his _enclavés_!’ This time Charles III. and his government
had taken the right course. The cantons, offended that Friburg had
acted alone in this matter, desiring to humour the duke, and not being
acquainted with the facts, promised to exhort ‘certain headstrong and
rebellious Genevans to desist from their enterprise.’[202] This little
republic, at the moment of her awakening, found ranged against her
both the neighbouring princes and a large majority of the cantons. The
diet declared in favour of the duke, and sent the Sieur d’Erlach to
Geneva to support the ducal protest. What could little Geneva do, when
pressed at once by Savoy and Switzerland? It was as if two ships in
full sail should come up in opposite directions, threatening to crush a
frail boat that floated between them. But the poor little bark carried
a ballast which was its salvation, namely, liberty and the protection
of God. Such vessels, even if they are run down, come to the surface
again sooner or later. The Friburgers did not desert the cause of
independence, but sent John Fabri to Geneva on their behalf. The two
deputies met almost about the same time on the shores of the Leman, one
bringing peace, the other war.
The general council having met on the 1st of March, 1519, the generous
Fabri, faithful to a desperate cause, spoke first, and did not conceal
from the assembly the large majority that had declared against Geneva.
‘Consider the matter and see for yourselves what ought to be done,’ he
said. ‘As for us, we will preserve the alliance to the last drop of
our blood.’ These words electrified the audience. ‘And we too!’ they
shouted all around. The citizens were stirred: they shook hands, they
blessed Friburg and embraced Fabri: everybody swore to be true to the
alliance. The Friburgers quitted the hall touched with the noble sight
of a nation ready to brave the greatest dangers in the maintenance of
its rights.
The deputy from the League was admitted next. Cold and diplomatic,
a stiff patrician and inflexible magistrate, D’Erlach spoke with
an imperious voice: ‘Obey the duke,’ he said. ‘Be henceforward his
faithful subjects; break off your alliance with Friburg. The League
require it from you under pain of their deep resentment; and as for
Friburg, they command it.’ This short and rough speech amazed the
Genevans. How long had they been the subjects of Savoy?... Had the
Swiss League broken their own yoke only to impose it on others? Had
they lighted the torch of liberty on their own mountains only to
extinguish it elsewhere?... What! shall the representatives of the
ancient liberties draw up in battle array against the new liberty? The
proudest of the Genevans, with heads upraised, said haughtily that even
the Swiss could not make them bend. Yet all the citizens were not so
brave. Could Geneva be saved if Switzerland forsook her? Many became
uneasy, some were grieved: the mamelukes alone rejoiced and triumphed.
The place of assembly reechoed with weeping, groans, and curses. The
confusion continued to increase.
When the deputy from Berne had withdrawn, the deputy from Friburg,
animated with the most heroic sentiments, returned to reassure
the people; and notwithstanding the declarations of the Bernese
commissioner he affirmed stoutly that Berne would not abandon Geneva.
‘Fear nothing,’ he said; ‘my lords of Berne and Friburg are brothers;
they will not quarrel with each other for the love of Savoy. And
though Berne should forsake you, we are strong enough with God’s help,
and we will not permit either you or ourselves to be trampled on....
Declare frankly whether you desire the alliance: say Yes or No.’ Then
with a loud shout the people exclaimed: ‘Yes! yes! Better see our wives
and children slain, better die a thousand deaths ourselves, than cancel
the alliance with Friburg!’ The general council desiring to give an
energetic proof of its will, and to make the resolution irrevocable,
decreed that if any should propose the rupture of the alliance, he
should be forthwith beheaded. The syndics returned to the inn where
D’Erlach coldly awaited their answer. It was as becoming and proud as
D’Erlach’s speech had been imperious. ‘We will send a deputation to the
next diet,’ they said, ‘when we will prove that we are not the duke’s
subjects, and that we have done nothing to his prejudice.’[203]
The greatness of a people does not depend upon the extent of its
territory. There was a soul in this little nation, and in that soul
dwelt lofty aspirations. Had all the powers of the earth risen
against Berthelier, Lévrier, and Hugues, these energetic men would
not have quailed. At the meeting of the general council on the
following day (March 2, 1519) the alliance was confirmed; Hugues
and Malbuisson started immediately for Friburg with instructions to
sign the engagement, which the Helvetic diet had just ordered to
be cancelled. Such was the answer made by Geneva to the Swiss. The
faithful devotedness of Friburg should be for ever inscribed as an
example in the records of history. But it is not to the Swiss in
general, as is commonly believed, that the Genevans substantially owe
their independence, but to God and to the strong will that God gave
them.[204]