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]
CHAPTER XVI.
THE CANONS JOIN THE DUKE, AND THE PEOPLE RISE AGAINST THEM.
(March 1519.)
The duke hesitated no longer. Pacific and diplomatic means were exhausted; he must now draw the sword and with its trenchant edge hew down the pride of Geneva. Nevertheless, to save appearances, he desired that some influential body would declare against the alliance; for it would then seem as if he were supporting a Genevese party, and his intervention with an armed force would look less odious. To attain his end he turned his eyes on the chapter of St. Pierre, the bishop’s natural council, and in his absence representing the catholic church. Its members being all noble or graduates in law (which at that time amounted almost to nobility), this body might be considered as the house of lords in the Genevan constitution.[205] The duke instructed his agents to work upon the canons, and they might have been seen going from door to door in the street that still bears their name. They advised the canons to be on their guard; that this alliance with the Swiss compromised everything, and particularly their functions and benefices. They were conjured to write to my lords of the League, stating that the chapter did not assent to the alliance in question. The canons, flattered by the importance which his Highness of Savoy attached to their opinion, hastily put on scapulary and amice and assembled in chapter. The success of this ducal manœuvre could not be doubtful. Only one canon was a native of Geneva; and this was Michael Navis, brother of him whom the bishop had murdered—a man as servile as his brother was independent. Two only were liberals: De Gingins, abbot of Bonmont, and Bonivard, prior of St. Victor, who was the youngest of the chapter, and who had no vote because he was not in holy orders. All the other canons were devoted to the duke—all worthy gentlemen, much impressed with their own dignity, like those canons of St. John of Lyons who, having produced their quarterings of nobility, demanded the privilege of not kneeling at the elevation of the host. The chapter opened their deliberations; and ‘the stout master-courtiers who had the right to speak first began to say amen.’ Bonivard, who saw these fat canons one after another bending low their bloated faces, grew alarmed at the turn matters were taking. What would be the consequence if the Church said No, while the people said Yes? What disorders at home, what weakness abroad! He saw that the opposition in the chapter fell to his share; he performed his duty valiantly and paid dearly for it. He had not been asked for his vote, and the secretary was preparing to commit the resolution to writing, when the prior rose and said: ‘Stop a little, Mr. Secretary, although I am not in sacris (in orders) and have no vote in the chapter, I have a duty here. Now it seems to me that before granting the illustrious duke his request, you should consider the purport of it a little better.[206] It tends to break off that alliance with Friburg which the people of this city have so much at heart that they would lose their wives and children sooner than renounce it. Think of what you are doing.... Very reverend sirs, you cannot return an answer to the duke without that answer being known to our people with whom you have promised to live and die. What will they say of you? With your permission I will tell you. They will say that you are playing the scorpion’s trick—that you pretend to be friends in front, and behind you inflict a mortal wound with your tail.... Fear their anger. Rest assured that if they say nothing at the moment, they will bear you in mind another day.’ The ‘stout masters,’ who were far from brave, began to feel uneasy and to turn in their stalls. They were in an awkward dilemma. ‘There is one way of satisfying both parties,’ continued Bonivard; ‘that is, reply to my lord of Savoy, and to the people also, that your business does not extend to alliances and other like civil matters, but to spiritual things only; that it does not concern you to make or unmake treaties; and that your function is only to pray to God and to pray principally for peace among all men. If you do this, no one will have reason to be dissatisfied with you.’
Thus did Bonivard at the beginning of the sixteenth century lay down a categorical distinction between the spiritual and the temporal government, and maintain that the Church and the State had each its own sphere. The canons thought this theory very strange, and stranger still that a young man of twenty-five should presume to teach it them.