THE FUGITIVES AT FRIBURG AND BERNE. THE DUKE AND THE COUNCIL OF
HALBERDS AT GENEVA.
(SEPTEMBER TO DECEMBER 1525.)
A Striking sight was that presented by the city founded by the
Zœhringens. Strange men were wandering round the old cathedral and on
the steep and picturesque banks of the Sarine. The people of Friburg
looked at them with respect, for they knew that these citizens, the
victims of the tyranny of a foreign power, had come to seek an asylum
within their walls. They went to the windows to see them pass, and
approached them with cordial affection. The Friburgers wished to hear
them, and Besançon Hugues, accompanied by a number of the fugitives,
was introduced into the council-hall. They gave him a seat on the right
of the avoyer, which was the place of honour, and the sitting being
opened, the Genevan rose and said: ‘Most honoured lords, there is a
town situated at the natural limits of Switzerland--a town entirely
devoted to you, where you can come and go just as at home, where you
can bargain, sell, and buy whatever you require, and which would be
able to stop your enemies, if ever the League should be attacked from
the south. This town, the complement of Helvetia, ought to be allied
to the cantons. Did not the Swiss in the time of Cæsar extend as far
as L’Ecluse?[372] ... If Geneva should fall into the hands of Savoy,
the cannon that ought to defend you will be turned against you....
Gentlemen, time presses, the fatal moment is at hand.... Long, unjust,
and violent persecutions have placed our liberties on the brink of the
abyss. The heroic Berthelier murdered at the foot of Cæsar’s tower; the
wise Lévrier beheaded in the castle yard of Bonne; Malbuisson, Chabod,
and many others recently flung into gloomy dungeons; all our friends
remaining at Geneva in danger of losing their lives ... and we, most
honoured lords, who are before you, obliged to abandon our property,
our business, our families, our country, that we may not fall into the
hands of a prince who has sworn our death: to such a state is our free
and ancient city reduced.... One thing alone can save it ... the strong
hand of the Swiss League.... Most honoured lords, hear our cries,
behold our tears, and have compassion on our misery. For God’s honour,
give us aid and counsel.’
The fugitives who stood around Hugues--Lullin, Girard, the two Bauds,
Bandière, Sept, Pécolat, and about twelve other citizens--were deeply
moved. These men, men of great energy, appeared as suppliants before
the senate of Friburg. Their countenance, their words, entreated this
powerful city, and yet a noble pride was visible in their looks. They
felt at once their independence and their misery; they had the air of
dethroned kings. Some wrung their hands, others shed tears; all prayed
with tones of sorrow that the Swiss would come to their assistance. The
Friburgers, touched with pity for Geneva and its exiles, and filled
with indignation against Charles and his partisans, replied: ‘No,
we will not desert you.’ Words full of kindness, which consoled men
overwhelmed with sorrows, and shed a ray of light upon their gloomy
path!
The moment was favourable for gaining the Swiss: they were exasperated
at seeing Savoy, after the battle of Pavia, basely embrace the cause
of the conqueror. In going to the support of Geneva, Switzerland the
faithful would give a wholesome lesson to that power which always took
the strongest side. Friburg immediately despatched deputies to Berne
and Soleure, and some of the fugitives accompanied them. In these two
cities the unfortunate Genevans renewed their touching supplications.
At Berne, says a chronicler, ‘they found a bad beginning but a good
end;’ at Soleure, the contrary, ‘a good beginning but a bad end.’
Soleure, however, joined the two other cities in notifying to the duke,
that if he valued their friendship he must cease injuring Geneva. But
Berne in particular showed great zeal. There were already in that city
a number of devoted friends of Zwingle and the Reformation; among
others one of the chief magistrates, Thomas ab Hofen, an intelligent
and moderate man, of a temper inclined to melancholy, much employed
in the public business of his country, and who for two years had been
corresponding with the reformer of Zurich. These evangelical Bernese
soon perceived that there was a hidden but real relationship between
the reformation of Zurich and the emancipation of Geneva; and they
influenced their countrymen in favour of the Genevans. At the same
time they spoke of the Gospel to the fugitives, and some of those
men who had come to Switzerland in search of liberty only, found the
truth. This movement of the powerful republic towards Geneva preluded
new times. Savoy had desired to crush that liberty which was of such
old standing in Geneva, and the Reformation which was soon to begin;
but, by the wonderful providence of God, the blow intended to kill both
secured their existence and gave them a wider development. The word of
the reformers, well received by the Bernese people, was to arrive even
at Geneva, and that city would thus, by God’s counsel, receive from
Switzerland not only national independence, but blessings that extend
far beyond the destinies of nations.[373]
Meanwhile the duke had been told of the departure of the fugitives:
just as he was going to lay his hand upon the nest, the birds
disappeared. Charles and his counsellors were staggered. These
energetic citizens would in truth be no longer in Geneva to combat
his designs; but it would have been surer, he thought, to put them
out of the way either by the sword of the executioner or by a long
imprisonment. Charles the Good had often practised both these means
with success. In vain did his partisans say, to comfort him, that at
least the patriots would not offend him by their presence. Yes, but if
they should return--if they should not return alone--if the Swiss....
There were in the Helvetic League confused noises, distant sounds of
Reformation and of liberty, which alarmed the Savoyards. Yet they said,
if we profit skilfully by the absence of the huguenots, if we properly
muzzle the other Genevans, if we establish ourselves firmly in the
city, nobody will be able to turn us out.
And now, as there was no need to hurry, the duke resolved to put off
his entrance for a while. The appeal to Rome had wounded him deeply.
To see himself, a sovereign prince, head of the most glorious house in
Europe, uncle of the king of France, brother-in-law of the emperor,
summoned before the pope by a band of nobodies, greatly incensed the
vain and haughty Charles III. Before he enters Geneva, the appeal must
be withdrawn. The duke sent orders on this subject to M. de Balleyson,
his representative in the city. Then, as if to pass away the time, he
urged on the persecution of all the Genevans around him. The Sieur
of Bonebouges, brother to the Sieur of Montrotier, at the head of
the troops of Faucigny, good soldiers but violent men, plundered the
country, seized many respectable people in the environs of the city,
and shut them up in the castles of Savoy, where they were grossly
maltreated.
De Balleyson lost no time in executing his master’s orders. He
represented to the principal friends of Savoy at Geneva of what an
offence the city had been guilty towards the duke by daring to accuse
him before the pope. On the 20th of September the general council was
convoked. Alas! those energetic men who had so often been its glory,
Hugues and his companions in misfortune, were absent, and nearly all
the friends they still possessed in Geneva refused to attend. M. de
Balleyson appeared before this shadow of a general council and said:
‘Our lord the duke wishes to learn from the people of this city of
Geneva whether they intend to prosecute a certain appeal before the
court of Rome.’[374] The mamelukes, who were almost alone in the
council, shouted out as if with one voice: ‘It is not our wish to
prosecute the said appeal.’[375]
This matter being ended, the duke prepared to make his entrance into
the city, which he did in the last days of September with a part of the
troops which he had ‘beyond the Arve.’ He found Geneva very different
from what he had desired. He had hoped to seize the rebels there,
and he found none but slaves. The servile mamelukes cared little for
liberty, and were proud to have a master. They called him their ‘most
dread lord,’ approached him with base adulation, and, kissing the
chains he brought them, assured him that his coming filled them with
joy and comfort.
The duke, who set little store by such cringing men, thought only how
he could become prince of the city, and intrigued to get the sovereign
authority handed over to him. His ministers had conceived a plan which
promised fairly, and the necessary manœuvres were immediately resorted
to. The syndics having appeared before his Highness on the 29th of
September (1525), the duke said to them rather abruptly: ‘The expenses
and fines imposed on Geneva by my council of Chambéry amount to twenty
thousand gold crowns.’ He desired to frighten the Genevans, and induce
them to sacrifice their independence in exchange for this debt. But
the syndics contented themselves with answering: ‘Monseigneur, the city
is poor, and we can only offer you ... our hearts.’ This was not what
Charles wanted. The duke’s chancellor, taking the syndics aside, said
to them: ‘Come, gentlemen, put yourselves straight, do _something_ to
satisfy his Highness.’ The syndics reflected for two or three days,
and unable or unwilling to guess what that ‘something’ could be, they
said to the vidame, the lawful channel between them and the prince:
‘What does the duke mean?’ The vidame conferred with his master, and
appearing before the council on the 10th of October, he said: ‘The
duke is vicar-imperial and sovereign of the cities included within his
states; Geneva is so included. Why do you not then acknowledge him as
your master? Do not be afraid; he is a kind prince; he will respect the
authority of the bishop and the franchises of the city, and you will
enjoy a prosperity hitherto unknown.’ This was clearer: the Savoyard
prince said plainly that he wanted Geneva. The vidame, observing that
his hint had been received without enthusiasm, added: ‘If you do not
accept the duke willingly, you will be made to accept him by force.’
The servile mamelukes, magnifying the advantages of annexation to so
powerful a state, would have granted everything on the spot. The moment
was critical: the syndics were uneasy and wavering. On the one hand
was the ancient independence of their country; on the other, superior
and brute force, which none of them could resist. They referred his
Highness’s demand to the episcopal council, which in turn referred it
to the prince-bishop in person. Such a reply was already a concession;
the politicians of Savoy fancied themselves near their object....
Geneva consents, they will say to the bishop; you cannot answer us by a
refusal. The city was on the verge of ruin when an unexpected and noble
succour preserved it.[376]
What Charles had so much dreaded came to pass. Towards the end of
October, several stout men of warlike mien and proud look were seen
entering by the Swiss gate: they were ambassadors from Berne, Friburg,
and Soleure, with Gaspard de Mullinen of Berne at their head. This
energetic man was a good catholic; in 1517 he had made a pilgrimage to
Jerusalem, and had been created knight of the Holy Sepulchre. A blind
conservative, he was conscientiously and steadfastly opposed to every
change, religious or political. ‘Confederates,’ said he continually in
the diets, ‘resist the doctrine of Luther, or we shall soon be overrun
by it.’[377] It would seem as if Mullinen ought to have supported the
prince’s pretensions with his iron hand; but in his sight the attempt
of Savoy was contrary to treaty, and consequently a revolutionary
work. Seeing, therefore, that the Genevese council were wavering, the
indignant Bernese went to their place of meeting, and said: ‘Stand firm
and fear nothing; our lords will support you in all your rights.’[378]
This intervention on the part of the Swiss disconcerted the duke. He
must change his plan, and have recourse to stratagem in order to free
himself from this knight of the Holy Sepulchre. Never were diplomatists
more successful in deceiving rude warriors and honest citizens. First,
Charles’s ministers put the mamelukes forward, who began telling the
ambassadors: ‘We desire to live under the protection of the duke and
the bishop.’ Next, Charles declared to the Swiss that he was full of
love for all the citizens of Geneva, and ready to grant everything
the cantons required. ‘The fugitives may return,’ he added. ‘Here is
a safe-conduct for them: take it to them.’ The document was placed
in Mullinen’s hands. He was astonished at the rapid success of his
embassy. He turned the paper over and over, without reading it however,
and for a good reason. The safe-conduct was in Latin, and the knight
of Mullinen with his noble colleagues did not pretend to any knowledge
of that language; but how could they suppose that the duke had not
given them, as he assured them, complete satisfaction? They imagined
that the document, while it secured life and liberty to the fugitives,
would open to them the gates of Geneva; and doubting not that Besançon
Hugues, Lullin, Girard, and their friends, on their return to the city,
would be able to preserve its independence, they thanked the duke and
departed satisfied for their homes.[379]
But Hugues was a better Latin scholar and knew his man better than
Mullinen. As soon as the ambassador returned, he handed to the
Genevese, with an air of triumph, the important paper that was the
reward of his journey, and Hugues read it eagerly. On coming to the
last phrase he smiled bitterly: _Dummodo non intrent civitatem, nec
suburbia ejus_, said the safe-conduct; ‘which means,’ said Hugues to
the deputies, ‘that we can return to Geneva provided we do not enter
the city or the suburbs.... The duke will be within and we without....
What services can we render the city? You know the smallness of our
territory. If we are neither in the city nor in the suburbs, we are
on the lands of Savoy.... Now if Berthelier was arrested close under
the walls (at La Treille), if Lévrier was seized at the very gate of
St. Pierre, what would befall us on the ducal territory?... The duke
is laying a snare: it is a condition which nullifies the act.--The
bird which the duke has sent us,’ he added, ‘has a fine head and
beautiful plumage; but there is a tail at the end which spoils all the
rest.’--‘This grace is a mere trap,’ said the indignant exiles. The
knight of Mullinen was offended and annoyed at the manner in which the
Duke of Savoy had befooled him, and perhaps began to imagine that a
knowledge of Latin might be of use. ‘My lords,’ said the fugitives to
the councils of Berne and Friburg, ‘the duke is a great traitor. He
fears not God, but he fears men the more. For this reason, make us free
of your cities; for if he knows that we are your allies, then only will
he leave us in peace.’[380] At the same time the Genevans, wishing to
show the duke what confidence they placed in his safe-conduct, sent for
their wives and children. This was making an energetic answer to Savoy.
The poor Genevese women with hearts full of bitterness began their
journey. Women did not travel much at the beginning of the sixteenth
century; and these, who had hardly been out of Geneva, thought, as they
went to Friburg and Berne, that they were going almost to the end of
the world. What a sad journey was theirs! Frightened at the real or
supposed dangers of the road, surprised at the strange language whose
unintelligible sounds began to echo in their ears, bathed in tears,
and broken-hearted, they folded the poor children in their arms; for
they were terrified at the strange scenes and new faces, and clung
with their weak hands round their mothers’ necks. At length this troop
of afflicted women entered Friburg; but their arrival at first only
increased the distress, and when these loving wives embraced their
husbands, their tears of joy were mingled abundantly with tears of
sorrow. The ‘foreigners,’ as they were called, although of respectable
families, were at that time destitute of everything, and were almost
like beggars at the doors of their friends. At the first moment they
were compelled to leave their families in the street, not knowing where
to shelter them. It was a heart-rending time. What! not a room, not
even a stable where these exhausted women and children could lie upon
the straw! The afflicted mothers pressed the little creatures to their
bosom--kissed their pale lips ... and then regretted Geneva.
At length the foreigners took courage and went before the council.
‘We sent for our families,’ they said, ‘but we can neither lodge them
nor feed them.... Permit them to enter the hospital.’ The prayer was
granted, and these well-born women who not long ago were robed in silk
and dancing with Beatrice of Portugal, were seen exchanging the palace
for a hospital. ‘The people were moved to pity,’ says Bonivard. It must
be remembered, however, that in those times staying in a hospital was
not degrading: travellers often lodged in such places.[381]
The arrival of the women and children at first increased the distress
of the citizens; they were discouraged and seemed to have reached the
depths of misery. The sight of these beloved beings reminded them
of Geneva and softened their hearts. But on a sudden they roused
themselves; they went from Friburg to Berne; they spoke in private
houses, in the halls of the tribes, in the public places, and appealed
to the sympathy of the Swiss. They represented that the duke had put
their leaders to death; that he had forced them to forsake their homes
and their business, and to fly to a foreign land; that, being reduced
to the greatest poverty, they had been compelled to place their wives
in a position which they would once have rejected with contempt, and
that, to put a climax to this misery, the city which they loved, and
for whose independence they were ready to sacrifice everything, was
invaded and enslaved.... These great souls were troubled; these proud
citizens, so resolute before the face of a cruel prince, were depressed
in the presence of their afflicted families, of their exile, of the
ruin of Geneva, and tears betrayed their weakness. The Bernese looked
with admiration on these noble citizens, whose tattered garments bore
witness to their wretched condition. Many of the tribes of the city of
Berne and the majority of the Council of Two Hundred declared for the
vanquished cause, and the conclusion of an alliance with Geneva seemed
near at hand.
The bishop, already alarmed by Charles’s intrigues, was startled when
he heard of this. If Berne accepted the reformed doctrine like Zurich,
if Geneva should follow the example of Berne, the prelate seated in
the chair of the bishops and on the throne of princes, would see them
both taken from under him. Pierre de la Baume, like many ecclesiastical
sovereigns, cared nothing for the welfare of those whom he called his
subjects; but he cared a great deal for the title of prince, and would
not suffer either the duke or the Swiss to deprive him of it. In order
to preserve it, he would have convoked the whole world, had that been
possible. Accordingly, even when at table, he felt uneasy and would
pause frequently, musing with himself and saying: ‘The duke is at
Geneva; the fox in the poultry-yard.... Let the fowls look out!... And
then, on the other hand, they are playing tricks in the cantons....
The bears look as if they wished to descend from the mountains....
Unhappy shepherd!... I will do anything,’ he said, ‘to preserve
the jurisdiction of the Church.’ He began at once, and endeavoured
first to coax his flock:[382] ‘We are very glad to hear of your good
disposition,’ he wrote to them; ‘and you will do us great pleasure
by informing us of all that is necessary for the welfare of our dear
city.... Do you, on your part, so conduct yourselves that God and the
world may have cause to be satisfied.’[383] In 1525, as in 1523, the
prelate’s device was still _God and the world_.
These efforts came to nothing. The government of bishops and princes,
established in different parts of christendom, was at first mild and
paternal, compared with the government of certain lay lords; but long
ago, the bishops had lost the superiority which could legitimatise
their authority, and the lay power had, on the contrary, gained great
influence in the world. In France, especially since the thirteenth
century, royalty, by displaying a character of kindness, had favoured
the progress of the people in things material, intellectual, and
even moral; and if Francis I., notwithstanding a personal character
by no means estimable, holds a brilliant place in history, it must
be ascribed to this quality in French royalty. But almost all the
bishop-princes of Geneva who preceded the Reformation, cared little
for the development of the nation, except it were to thwart it. John
of Savoy and Pierre de la Baume were nothing but selfish dissolute
priests. No halo was seen on their brows; and thus they found one
day that there was no firm ground under their feet. Ecclesiastical
authorities, even when honest, are apt to despise the temporal
interests of their subjects; and as unhappily spiritual interests do
not much affect ambitious prelates, the immortal souls and the earthly
liberties of their flocks are equally oppressed by them.
The duke, who knew better than anybody the weakness of the episcopal
power (which he had mainly caused), felt his ambition increase, and
resolved to put an end to it. With this intent he would take a step
which, by giving him what Savoy had coveted for centuries, would
fortify him with a title calculated to impose silence on the complaints
of the prelate, the accusations of the fugitives, and the demands of
the Swiss. He determined to convene a general council, composed almost
exclusively of his creatures, from which he would obtain, either
by persuasion or by a great display of force, the homage due to a
sovereign. To attain his object he began by toning down his insolent
conduct and his unjust pretensions. Treasurer Boulet, first cause
of all these disturbances, being obliged to furnish his accounts at
the hôtel-de-ville, was condemned. The citizens imprisoned or fined
received the promise of an early amnesty; and imagining he had thus
gained every heart, Charles desired the people to be called together,
that all the community might know of the good-will he entertained
towards them. The syndics and the bishop’s vicar, perceiving that the
fatal hour had arrived, refused his demand. They were not strong,
but fear came upon them in that solemn moment when they saw Geneva
suspended over the abyss. Gruet, the vicar, stammered out some excuses:
‘Nobody would come to the council,’ he said, ‘but rabble and ruffians.’
It was precisely what the duke wanted. Being already master of Geneva
and claiming to make everything bend under his absolute will, he would
not allow Gruet to finish his speech: ‘It is my council’s advice,’ he
said, ‘that the people should assemble to-morrow, Sunday, at eight in
the forenoon, in the cloister of St. Pierre. Have this published by
sound of trumpet, and let the heads of families be informed by sending
from door to door.’ Then turning to the vicar, he added: ‘You will
be present with all the episcopal council.’ He informed them that he
would visit the assembly on his way to mass, and would then tell them
his pleasure; so that the council might prepare their answer during
service-time, and he would receive it on his way back. The ducal
partisans ran from street to street and from house to house in order to
muster all their forces at an assembly called in the name of a prince
whose subjects lived at Chambéry and Turin.[384] The liberals, who were
still numerous in Geneva, pretty generally kept away: they did not
consider a council assembled by the duke to be legitimate.
The next day, Sunday, December 10, the great bell of the cathedral
having summoned the citizens, men whose names are for the most part
unknown appeared to form a council. The most important portion in this
_popular_ assembly was not the people, but the duke, who appeared
between nine and ten o’clock, accompanied by the Bishop of Maurienne,
the episcopal council, the chancellor of Savoy, and his chamberlains,
esquires, officers, and many gentlemen from his states; before and
behind came the archers of Savoy. Carrying their halberds with a
threatening air, and impatient to reduce this herd of shopkeepers
under their prince, these mercenaries gave the meeting the appearance
of a battle-field rather than of a council. Nothing like it had ever
been witnessed in the city. Resolved that day to make the conquest
of Geneva, Charles proudly mounted to the place reserved for the
sovereign; his courtiers drew up to the right and left, and his
soldiers formed in a circle round the assembly, while above their heads
flashed the broad-pointed bills at the end of the long staves, as if
to frighten the citizens. The duke reclining upon the throne, which
was covered with rich tapestry, ordered his chancellor to explain his
sovereign intentions. The latter, making a low bow, read: ‘About three
months ago, as the duke was preparing to cross the mountains on Italian
business, he learnt that certain seditious people, who have fled to
the country of the League, were sowing dissension between him and
the bishop, between Geneva and the Swiss.... Whereupon his Highness,
who has always been a mild and gentle prince to this city, seeing
it threatened by a frightful calamity, neglected his own interests,
hastened to you, and has spared neither money nor pains to restore
peace among you. In return for so many benefits, this magnanimous
prince asks but one thing ... that you should recognise him as your
sovereign protector.’ The protection was evidently a mere veil to hide
dominion and despotism; accordingly the few honest citizens there
present were dispirited and silent. It was necessary to make haste,
for the duke wished to avert all opposition. Having read the paper,
the chancellor stepped forward, and cried as loud as he could, for his
voice was weak: ‘Are you willing to live in obedience to your bishop
and prince, and under the protection of my lord duke?’ ... The question
should now have been put to the vote; but the impatient mamelukes
carried it by acclamation, shouting out with all their might: ‘Yes,
yes!’ The chancellor resumed: ‘My lord, seeing the great love this city
feels towards him, cancels all the penalties it has incurred, takes
off all sequestrations, remits all fines, which amount to twenty-two
thousand crowns, and pardons all rebels--those excepted who have fled
to Switzerland.’ Such are usually the amnesties of tyrants; those are
excepted who ought to be included, and those included who do not need
it. ‘Thanks, thanks!’ replied the mamelukes. ‘As my chancellor may not
have been distinctly heard,’ said Charles to Syndic Montyon, ‘have
the goodness to repeat what he has said in my name.’ After this, his
Highness, with his chancellor, courtiers, gentlemen, and halberdiers,
left the assembly and went to mass. It looked like a triumphal
procession. As for those left behind, if there were venal citizens who
dared to raise their heads, there were others whose uneasy consciences
bowed them down.[385]
As soon as the Genevese were left to themselves, Montyon, a fanatical
partisan of Savoy, got on a bench and repeated, not without
embarrassment, the chancellor’s address. The halberdiers being away,
the assent was no longer unanimous. There were still many honest men
in Geneva who clung to the ancient institutions of the State and held
a Savoyard usurpation in horror. Some, at the very moment when the
liberty of their country was about to be thrown into the abyss, were
smitten with a last love for her. ‘The address is full of guile,’ they
said. Many, however, acceded to the ‘protection,’ but added, ‘saving
the authority of the prince-bishop and the liberties of the city,’
which nullified the vote.[386]
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]