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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