nouvelles de notre association - aafi-afics - UNOG

THE ESCALADE
Aamir Ali
(This is a slightly revised version of Chapter 1 of Aamir Ali’s book « The Story of Geneva », 1989)
Unlucky is the nation that does not have some inspiring legend through which it manifests its identity
and expresses its genius. It is usually some striking historical incident seen through the mists of time,
blurring its details and making it larger than life. France has its Joan of Arc; England its Henry V;
India its Rani of Jhansi; America its Paul Revere; Greece its Marathon; the Sioux the Little Big Horn;
Colombia its Bolivar; Haiti its Toussaint; Switzerland its William Tell.
And Geneva its Mère Royaume.
Geneva and Savoy
At the beginning of the seventeenth century, the
small Republic of Geneva constituted a thorn in
the flesh of Charles-Emmanuel I, Duke of Savoy,
because it sat astride his route to Switzerland and
the north. And it was Protestant. That Geneva
embraced the Reform in 1536 and under the
leadership of Jean Calvin, became a leader of the
Protestant movement, was yet another reason for
the Catholic Dukes of Savoy to resent it. Was it
possible that this small State should hold out
against the mighty dukedom of Savoy which
almost surrounded it? One quick bite and Geneva
could be swallowed, and the thorn would be
removed, the pain eased.
The region of north-west Italy was ruled by the
Savoy dynasty from the beginning of the eleventh
century for some 900 years. It controlled the
Alpine passes which gave it enormous strategic
power, and it successfully held the balance
between the Holy Roman Empire, the Pope,
Spain and France; in later years between Austria
and France. A strong military force, the ruler
acquired the title of the Duke of Savoy in 1416
and the title of King of Sicily in 1713.
Yes, Savoy could surely swallow Geneva in one
quick mouthful. However, France - regions of
Savoy did not become part of France until 1860 -
was interested in keeping Geneva independent. It
was the gateway through which Swiss
mercenaries passed on their way to France. If
this gate were to be closed, the flow of
mercenaries would dry up, and without the
doughty Swiss soldiers, what would France’s
military might be?
Charles-Emmanuel I knew that if he launched war
against Geneva, France would intervene. That
would not do at all. His best plan would be a
surprise attack: a short, sharp, shock. If he
managed to occupy the city in one fell swoop, the
whole affair would be over before the Genevese
could rally round to protect themselves or any
outsider come to their help. He was not the first,
or the last, to reason thus, knowing that a fait
accompli was usually impossible to undo.
Geneva, though believing itself protected by the
treaties between France and Savoy, couldn’t help
being suspicious of Savoy’s intentions. The King
of France sent warnings. There were other
indications.
A French merchant, Pierre Pelé, coming from
Turin, warned Geneva that an attack, probably at
the Gate of Rie (Rive), was being prepared. In
April 1602, Marc-Antoine Pascal who lived in
Rome but had relatives in Geneva, gave warning
that the Pope, the Duke of Savoy, and the King of
Spain were plotting against the city, and had
offered him huge bribes if he would help them.
There were other signs that something was afoot.
Geneva strengthened its fortifications, put up
more chains across its streets, reinforced its gates
with iron plates, and offered special prayers. But
as the days passed and nothing happened, the
precautions were relaxed. As a welcome
economy measure, the vital guard on the parapets
between the Porte de la Monnaie - where the
Rue de la Cité now comes down to the Place Bel
Air - and the Porte Neuve was abandoned. Little
did they guess that this was just the spot where
the enemy would attack.
The Genevese did not realise how strong was the
obsession of Charles-Emmanuel I. For him, the
48