Wernli did not intend to remain satisfied with a mass: he believed a fight was necessary. He had hardly laid aside his robes, his cross, and stole, when he thought of donning his armour: this was part of his piety. He had no trouble in persuading his brethren, for the priests were more zealous than the laymen in these disturbances.[710] The first battle having proved a failure, they prepared for a second. In the Reformation of Geneva facts play as important a part as ideas. The great questions of rights, liberty, and truth were not elaborated simply in the studies of a few lawyers or divines, but were discussed around the hearths of burghers, at the meetings of evangelicals, and in the general council of the citizens, and were decided in the streets in the midst of formidable struggles. Ideas became acts; doctrines gave birth to events; theories set men's hearts beating, armed their hands, and produced great deliverances. There may have been some evil in this mighty activity, but it was an unavoidable evil.
On the afternoon of the festival, Wernli and a great number of other ecclesiastics met in council at the vicar-episcopal's. They bitterly regretted that the good-nature of the Friburgers and the weakness of the syndics had caused the failure of their plot. They had lost the game, and must begin again. A project adjourned needs not on that account be given up. The catholics should take advantage of the time when the absence of the principal huguenots would make the victory easy.
=A HOLIDAY EVENING.=
During this discussion a few citizens of both parties were promenading near the Rhone, apparently thinking only of taking a little recreation. It was the evening of a holiday, and the setting sun poured its rays in floods of flame upon the lake. The west was on fire, the water reflected the image of the sky, and flashed with bright and flickering colours. But the citizens thought little at this moment of the beauties of nature. However great the apparent calm without, their souls were agitated by fierce passions. By degrees they entered into conversation; they spoke of religion, as was their custom; they debated with warmth, then they began to dispute and to abuse each other, and finally hands were raised and blows were struck.
The sun set; the brightness died away, all grew pale round the city, and daylight was fading into darkness. The hour, so favourable for walking, had attracted many abroad; the noise drew still more. Huguenots and mamelukes, catholics and reformed, hurried to the Molard. 'What is the matter?' they asked. The parties were already forming into two distinct groups. Every one as he arrived joined his friends; they arranged themselves in order, they soon counted their numbers, and two bands drew up face to face. Some of the more impetuous went in front and excited the crowd. The gaoler of the episcopal prisons and his brother, both great brawlers, who handled the dagger cleverly, 'very riotous men' (says a manuscript) thorough bravoes of the 16th century, were among the most violent. Monks and priests of the lower rank mingled with the people in the square, while their superiors were in consultation at the vicar-episcopal's. They excited the crowd, and complained loudly that the Friburgers had hindered them on the 28th March from destroying the heretics, which, they held, would have been a necessary severity.
Meanwhile the two parties, though already face to face, apparently did not think of coming to blows. One Pinet, sent by the clergy 'to apply the match, began to work upon the people.' He glided from group to group, and strove to inflame the minds of the catholics. 'Who will fight along with me on behalf of his religion?' he said. Then turning towards the huguenots, he challenged them, shouting out, with an oath: 'Your creed is a rascally one, you Lutherans! If there is a man among you willing to maintain the contrary, let him come here and fight.'[711] This challenge was repeated several times, but the reformed feared a disturbance. 'Peace has been made,' said they, 'do not break it.' Some of them added: 'Be on your guard, Pinet is a sad scamp.' Nobody would 'take the bait.' One huguenot, however, the impatient Ami Perrin, could not contain himself; provoked by the priests' agent, he rushed upon him and nearly killed him. Both huguenots and catholics ran between them to separate them. Peace was restored or at least seemed to be; but a spark had been struck out, and the fire was about to be kindled.[712]
=MARIN DE VERSONAY.=
A young Catholic, Marin de Versonay, agitated by the scene which he had just witnessed, left the square and hurried up the Rue du Perron. Versonay was a man of narrow mind but ardent imagination, and fanatically attached to the Romish Church, which he looked upon as the sole and exclusive source of holiness and everlasting happiness. Moreover he had an unbounded affection for his cousin Percival de Pesmes, and the profoundest respect for the sovereignty of the bishop. His ancestors had conferred great services upon Geneva. In 1476 his grandfather Aymon, councillor to the bishop John Louis of Savoy, had lent his plate to the city to quiet the Swiss, who threatened it with pillage. The young nobleman wished to do for Geneva more than his grandfather had done—he wished to destroy heresy. His wife, with whom the priests were great friends, urged him on night and day.[713]
The members of the episcopal council, the canons and principal priests, were all armed and waiting at Messire de Bonmont's house the issue of this skirmish. At every noise they pricked up their ears, fancying they heard the footsteps of a messenger; but none appeared, and everything seemed to betoken that peace would not be disturbed. Pinet had withdrawn in confusion, and Perrin, notwithstanding his natural impetuosity, knew very well that the reformed did not wish to take the initiative and break the public peace. Tranquillity was restored. A few citizens of both parties still remained in the Molard, but many of the catholics and huguenots had left, and to seal their concord had gone to drink together, saying that they intended to remain friends. The match had gone out.[714]
Young de Versonay and the impetuous canon were going to rekindle it. The former, whose imagination had been excited, directed his steps to De Bonmont's house. He knocked violently at the gate and shouted aloud: 'Help! help! they are killing all good christians!' At the sound of these imprudent words the canons and priests caught fire; some remained doubtful and motionless, but Pierre Wernli, 'that good knight,' immediately sprang to his feet. The service he had celebrated in the cathedral was hardly over, when he had thought of another, and said to himself that this very day the Reformation must be buried in a winding-sheet from which it should never rise again. Accordingly, after taking off his sacerdotal robes, he had put on his breastplate and cuishes, belted his sword to his side, seized his heavy halberd, and thus armed,[715] had gone to the vicar-episcopal's. Immediately Wernli heard Versonay's voice, he thought the hour was come. Standing in the midst of the priests, and grasping his weapon, he invited his colleagues by a glance to follow him. Many hesitated, and then, 'burning with love of God,' says one of his greatest admirers, 'this good champion of the faith, seeing that nobody got ready for the fight, lost patience, would not wait for the other churchmen, and went out first with fiery courage.'[716] The die was cast; the battle was about to begin, for no one was able to stop the impetuous canon.