During this time the fifteen gentlemen had returned to St. Jullien and made a report of their visit to the council. Charles and his advisers did not consider their proceedings very diplomatic, and resolved to act more officially but more insolently. The next day, Friday, April 1, the king-at-arms, Provena de Chablais (he derived this name from the province where he was born) arrived in Geneva, and was introduced to the council with the usual ceremony. A cuirass covered him down to the waist; on his left arm he wore his casaque or coat of arms, and his right hand held a rod,—a gaule, says a manuscript. He entered with head erect, without uncovering or making any bow to the council. ‘Sit down by my side,’ politely said the premier syndic to him, ‘and unfold your message.’ Chablais remained standing, with sneering lip and silent, although the invitation was repeated thrice. This mute embassy considerably astonished the Genevan senate. At last, the king-at-arms quitted his fixed posture and took a seat of his own accord, not by the side of, but above the syndics who remained impassive. Then he said: ‘Worshipful syndics and councillors, do not marvel if I did not sit down when you desired me, and if I sit down now without being invited; I will tell you the reason. I am here in behalf of my most dread prince and lord, the Duke of Savoy, my master and yours. It does not become you to tell him to sit down—it is his privilege to do so when and where he pleases:—not beside you but above you, as your sovereign prince; and as representing his person, I have done so myself. Now from my seat I unfold my commission, and it is this. My lord and yours charges and commands you to prepare his lodging in your hôtel-de-ville with the sumptuousness and magnificence that belong to such a prince. Likewise he orders that you will get ready provisions for him and his company, which will be ten thousand infantry without including cavalry; for his intention is to lodge here with this retinue to administer justice in Geneva.’[216]
The king-at-arms was desired to retire, the council wishing to deliberate on the answer to be returned. The discussion was not a long one, all being unanimous to maintain firmly the liberties of Geneva. The herald was called in again, and the first syndic said to him: ‘Sir Chablais, we are equally surprised at what you do and at what you say. At what you do; for after we offered you a seat, you refused it; and when you had refused it, you took it.... At what you say; for you say that my lord of Savoy is your prince and ours ... a thing unheard of until this time. He may be your prince—that we believe; but ours ... no! We are his very humble servants, but we are neither his subjects nor his vassals.... It therefore does not belong either to you or to him to sit in the place where you are.... As for what you say respecting our hôtel-de-ville, we know not what you mean; the duke may choose any lodging he pleases except our hôtel-de-ville, which we cannot spare. He will be treated as in former times—better if possible. He desires to administer justice; it is the place of the bishop and council to do so, according to the franchises which he himself has sworn. If any one among us has offended him, let him inform us. Lastly, as to the large train with which he desires to be attended, it is a singular company for the administration of justice! Let him please to come with his usual retinue, nay, with five hundred men; but ten thousand men and cavalry besides.... We have not supplies for so many.’[217]
Chablais listened coldly and disdainfully. ‘Will you or will you not obey the orders of my lord?’ he said. The first syndic answered bluntly: ‘No.’ The herald then rose, put on his coat of arms, and with a loud voice said: ‘On his behalf then I pronounce you rebellious to your prince—and I declare war against you with fire and sword.’ Then flinging his rod into the middle of the hall, he continued: ‘I defy you on the part of my lord, in sign of which I throw down this rod (gaule); let him take it up who pleases.’ So saying, he left the hall.[218]
The news of this singular challenge was immediately carried to the people, who were dismayed at it. The huguenots, seeing that they must die or be slaves (say the annals), chose the first alternative and prepared for death, resolving, however, to sell their lives and not to throw them away. Feeling themselves the strongest body in the city, they called the people together. ‘Let every one take up arms!’ they said. They even forced the mamelukes to do so. The gates were shut, the chains stretched across the streets, the artillery manned, the watch set: ‘they made all the preparations for war according to the skill and experience they had in that business.’[219]
The duke, knowing that right was not on his side, resolved to draw the sword. Advised by Montrotier, a daring officer, he had a fit of courage, and, closing all the roads, sent out his troops in every direction. It was Saturday, April 2, and market day at Geneva. The market was held ‘without a word said;’ they allowed everybody to go in and out who wished;[220] but about noon a report of the duke’s manœuvre having reached the city, the inhabitants took up arms. The peasants, returning from market, described to the Savoyards, with some exaggeration perhaps, the war preparations made by the Genevans. Immediately the duke’s fit of courage was succeeded by one of fear. Bonivard had expected this, and on hearing that the prince was at the head of an army had shrugged his shoulders. ‘The duke knows as much of war,’ he said, ‘as a monk bred in a convent since he was seven years old.’ This display of ten thousand men, assembled a league from Geneva, these troops sent out in every direction—all ended in a pitiful retractation. M. de Lucinge, appearing before the council, said: ‘His Highness has ordered me to inform you, most honoured lords, that he desires to come and sup with you in a friendly way. If he cannot lodge in the hôtel-de-ville, be so good as to prepare a lodging elsewhere for him, his great suite,[221] and two or three hundred infantry only.... He desires to do violence to nobody.’ The mamelukes proposed that the gates should be opened to the duke immediately, but the syndics replied that they would consult the general council on the morrow. The mameluke councillors, who thought that the duke did Geneva a great honour by coming to it, looked around with astonishment at the answer: their greatest happiness was to approach a prince and pay court to his Highness, and these inflexible huguenots turned their backs upon him. ‘Well,’ said they, ‘if they will not let the duke come to us, we will go to him.’ Accordingly Montyon and several others of his party left the council-room. The court-yard of the hôtel-de-ville was full of citizens waiting to learn the result of the meeting: they saw the mamelukes pass with astonishment. The spectators whispered in each other’s ears: ‘They are going to join the Savoyards.’ ... Presently a loud shout was raised, and several huguenots, catching up some spears that were resting against the wall, ran after the mamelukes to seize them; they were almost overtaken when the councillors, deputed by the syndics, entreated them, for the safety of the city, to avoid a strife between citizens. The angry patriots returned to the hôtel-de-ville. Every one was distressed at knowing that there were among them men capable of forsaking Geneva for the Duke of Savoy.[222]
The disloyalists (as they were called) hastened along the St. Jullien road. Besides Montyon, there were Cartelier, Déléamont, Nergaz, Ray, the two De Fernex, and others, making in all between thirty and forty. ‘Our interview with the duke must be private,’ said the cunning Cartelier, who felt how criminal was the step they were taking. The duke let them know that at a certain hour of the night he would be under a particular tree in the Falcon orchard. Thither they resorted one by one, and were all soon gathered round the tree without being able to recognise each other except by the voice. The intriguing Cartelier was spokesman. Political views influenced Montyon, De Versonex, and others; but in him, it was the hatred he bore against the huguenots and the desire to be revenged on them. He assured the duke that the majority of the people were ready to acknowledge him for their sovereign. ‘But,’ he added, ‘the bad ones have shut the gates, stretched the chains, placed guards.... Enter Geneva, my lord, sword in hand.’ They then discussed their guilty projects, and it was agreed in whispers what the mamelukes should do in order to facilitate the entrance of the Savoyards into the city. ‘The traitors,’ says Bonivard, ‘entered into a plot with the duke.’[223]
Early on Sunday Charles took up a better position and went to his strong castle of Gaillard on the Arve, three-quarters of a league from Geneva. The report of his intentions having spread through all the valley of the Leman, the gentlemen and the companies of the Pays de Vaud, Chablais, and Faucigny came thronging in. Nay, more: the canons and priests of the city, quickly forgetting the lesson they had received, hurried off to Gaillard. Bonivard, who was almost the only cleric remaining in Geneva, saw all his theories confirmed. It was his maxim that ‘people bred up in the courts of princes always remember their first food.’—‘And now,’ said he, ‘of all the canons and folks of the long robe, there are left in Geneva only De la Biolée, Navis, and myself. All are gone to visit the duke at Gaillard, even M. de Bonmont who was considered the principal friend of the public weal.’[224] Erelong the castle was filled with an imposing crowd, more numerous than at St. Jullien.
The storm was approaching, the danger increasing from hour to hour: the little band of patriots was still full of courage; but alas! it was an ant-hill on which a rock from the Alps was about to fall. They had watched the priests with anxious eye, but without desiring to stop them. ‘These birds have so keen a scent,’ it was said, ‘that they hasten wherever there is any flesh.’ If Friburg would only send a few valiant warriors to assist those of Geneva, that Savoyard army would soon be dispersed; but Friburg remained dumb. The uneasiness spread from one to another; desponding faces were met in the streets.... On a sudden two horsemen are seen on the Swiss road.... O joy! they wear the Friburg colours!... At eleven o’clock in the forenoon of Sunday, April 3, 1519, Berthelier’s friend, Councillor Marti, accompanied by a herald, entered Geneva. ‘And your armed men?’ they said to him, and were informed in answer that, for the present at least, there were none. The general council happening to be assembled in order to reply to M. de Lucinge, Marti instantly proceeded thither, but was not received so well as he had expected. ‘We want ambassadors in doublets and not in long robes,’ said the huguenots to him; ‘not diplomatists, but soldiers.’ Marti started for Gaillard, but the Genevans saw him depart without hope; in their opinion, arquebuses should be the only answer for the Savoyards.[225]
The Friburger, as he drew near Gaillard, was struck with the large number of troops around the castle. At this moment the duke was giving audience to the canons, who were making all the bows and compliments learnt in former days at court; he hoped to be able to draw them into the plot, and was therefore much annoyed at seeing this mediator arrive. Turning impatiently towards his officers, he vented in an under tone some contemptuous words against him. Nevertheless, a few minutes later, when he had examined him more closely, Charles took courage, doubting not that his political skill would easily manage this shepherd of the Alps. ‘He seems a good plain man, easy to be deceived,’ said the duke, who, commencing his manœuvres, added: ‘Sit down, Mr. Ambassador,’ and thereupon feasted him liberally, and gave him all kinds of good words. But the plain man, who was in reality a bold and crafty Friburger, replied in his Romane tongue: ‘My lord, you have already told my friends so many lies, that I do not know if they will believe you any more.’[226] The duke, offended at this rude language, spoke more sharply: ‘I shall enter Geneva as a friend,’ he said; ‘or, if they do not like it, as an enemy. My artillery is all ready to lather (savonner) the city in case of refusal.’ Marti in alarm demanded a truce, at least for the night, so that he might speak to the people of Geneva and settle the matter, which the duke granted.[227]
All the citizens were afoot: the guards at the gates, the cannon on the walls, the watch day and night in the streets. At ten o’clock Marti arrived, and went straight to the council, whose sittings were declared permanent. ‘Gentlemen,’ said he to the syndics, ‘I think you must trust the duke and let him enter the city.’—‘And the assistance of Friburg?’ asked some; to which Marti replied: ‘My lords are far away!’[228] He seemed to have lost all hope. He added, however: ‘There is a truce until to-morrow morning.’ It was agreed to convene the Great Council the next morning before daybreak in order to deliberate on the course to be taken in this terrible crisis; and as the citizens had been on foot for three nights, they were permitted in consideration of the truce to go and take some repose. It was then eleven o’clock.