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A grisly sight but the citizens saw in it only the
confirmation of the divine retribution that must
befall enemies of the Republic and of the
Reformation.
The Outcome
Even before the execution of these prisoners, the
people of Geneva were massed together in the
Cathedral St. Pierre, singing Théodore de Bèze’s
version of Psalm 124:
If it had not been the Lord who was on our side,
when men rose against us;
Then they had swallowed us up quick, when their
wrath was kindled against us;
Then the waters had overwhelmed us, the stream
had gone over our soul;
Blessed be the Lord, who hath not given us as a
prey to their teeth;
Our soul is escaped as a bird out of the snare of
the fowlers: the snare is broken and we are
escaped.
Our help is in the name of the Lord, who made
heaven and earth.
They had streamed up the narrow cobbled streets
to the Cathedral, high born aristocrat and low born
commoner, united through a sense of deliverance
and victory which made them kin. So the
Genevese Councillor smiled and embraced the
cobbler, the patrician exchanged warm words with
the Huguenot refugee. And everyone was eager
to provide and garnish tales of the battle, how
they had routed hundreds, nay thousands, of the
enemy; how Isaac Mercier had charged through a
whole army to let down the portcullis and blocked
the dastardly attackers; how the Mère Royaume
had leapt from her window to knock out dozens of
Savoyards with her cooking pot.
Geneva had been saved. If Jaques Mercier, or
Francois Bousezel, had chosen to ignore the
noises they heard, the city might have fallen.
If Isaac Mercier had fled up the ramp with his
companions instead of hauling himself up above
the Porte de la Neuve and having the good sense
to lower the portcullis, the city might have fallen.
If Dame Piaget had not had the presence of mind
to throw down her key, the city might have fallen.
If the citizens of Geneva, high born and low born,
rich and poor, native and immigrant - Poteau,
Muzy, Gallatin, Baudière, Baptista, Canal, Mercier
and so many others - had not rushed out to fight
and die if necessary, the city might have fallen.
And if the Mère Royaume had not been imbued
with sturdy common sense, if she had not realised
the importance of stopping the Savoyards from
entering the city precincts, if she had not been a
good housewife and been preparing her soup for
the morrow, if she had not been ready to sacrifice
soup and copper pot for the independence of the
Republic, the city would certainly have fallen.
By any measure, Geneva’s victory was a
remarkable one, a victory of an outnumbered but
determined people against professional soldiers.
News of this spread throughout Europe and the
Genevese were not the only ones to recognise
divine protection. Geneva was a State to be
reckoned with; it had been firmly placed on the
map of Europe.
Had the Savoyards succeeded, Geneva would
have become a small Catholic township of Savoy,
later of France, on the outskirts of that great
country, with no special identity of its own. It
would not have found an international vocation, it
would not have become a place where warring
nations and factions could meet and come to
terms, it would not have been the seat of the
International Committee of the Red Cross, it
would not have been the seat of the League of
Nations after the first World War, and of the
United Nations and several specialised agencies
after the Second, it would not have become an
international city par excellence whose name is
synonymous with international cooperation and
the search for peace.
But equally important, the fateful night of 11
December 1602 gave Geneva its most enduring
legend, one around which the populace can rally
and manifest its strong feelings of being
Genevese.
Every year, they dress up in seventeenth century
costumes, watch the impressive parade organized
by the illustrious Compagnie de 1602, sing the
124th Psalm and the hymn written in 1603 to
celebrate the event: Cé qu’é l’aino (He who is on
high). It is in dialect and has 68 verses:
fortunately not all of them have to be sung on
every festive occasion. The following translation of
the first two verses reflects the high tide of
patriotism that swept the city after the great
victory.
He who is on high, Lord of Battles
Who laughs to scorn the miserable scum,
And showed, on that Saturday night,
That He is the Protector of us Genevese.
They came, on the twelfth of December
On a night as pitch black as ink,
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