“Narrow streets predominated, tho’ there were also a certain number of open spaces—­notably at the markets, and in front of the Cathedral, where there was a traffic in those relics and rosaries which Geneva was presently to repudiate with virtuous indignation.  One can form an idea of the appearance of the narrow streets by imagining the oldest houses that one has seen in Switzerland all closely packed together—­houses at the most three stories high, with gabled roofs, ground-floors a step or two below the level of the roadway, and huge arched doors studded with great iron nails, and looking strong enough to resist a battering-ram.  Above the doors, in the case of the better houses, were the painted escutcheons of the residents, and crests were also often blazoned on the window-panes.  The shops, too, and more especially the inns, flaunted gaudy signboards with ingenious devices.  The Good Vinegar, the Hot Knife, the Crowned Ox, were the names of some of these; their tariff is said to have been fivepence a day for man and beast."....

In the first half of the sixteenth century occurred the two events which shaped the future of Geneva; Reformation theology was accepted; political independence was achieved.  Geneva it should be explained, was the fief of the duchy of Savoy; or so, at all events, the Dukes of Savoy maintained, tho’ the citizens were of the contrary opinion.  Their view was that they owed allegiance only to their Bishops, who were the Viceroys of the Holy Roman Emperor; and even that allegiance was limited by the terms of a Charter granted in the Holy Roman Emperor’s name by Bishop Adhemar de Fabri.  All went fairly well until the Bishops began to play into the hands of the Dukes; but then there was friction, which rapidly became acute.  A revolutionary party—­the Eidgenossen, or Confederates—­was formed.  There was a Declaration of Independence and a civil war.

So long as the Genevans stood alone, the Duke was too strong for them.  He marched into the town in the style of a conqueror, and wreaked his vengeance on as many of his enemies as he could catch.  He cut off the head of Philibert Berthelier, to whom there stands a memorial on the island in the Rhone; he caused Jean Pecolat to be hung up in an absurd posture in his banqueting-hall, in order that he might mock at his discomfort while he dined; he executed, with or without preliminary torture, several less conspicuous patriots.  Happily, however, some of the patriots—­notably Besancon Hugues—­got safely away, and succeeded in concluding treaties of alliance between Geneva and the cantons of Berne and Fribourg.

The men of Fribourg marched to Geneva, and the Duke retired.  The citizens passed a resolution that he should never be allowed to enter the town again, seeing that he “never came there without playing the citizens some dirty trick or other;” and, the more effectually to prevent him from coming, they pulled down their suburbs and repaired their ramparts, one member of every household being required to lend a hand for the purpose.