The Bishop of Maurienne, who fancied himself a great diplomatist, was seriously offended. ‘Do you think, M. de St. Victor,’ he said, ‘that we do not know how to write a letter?’ ... The Savoyard canons were exasperated that one of their countrymen should desire anything but what the duke wished. ‘The house of Savoy,’ said M. de Monthoux, ‘has conferred many favours on your predecessors, and is it thus you show your gratitude?’ ... ‘I would willingly render service to the duke,’ answered Bonivard, ‘but before all I will observe my oath to Geneva and the Church.’ At these words, which resembled a reproach, murmurs arose from all quarters. Bonivard was not intimidated. Upright in heart, noble in intention, wise in counsel, of extraordinary intelligence and superior talent, he was far above the anger of his venerable colleagues. ‘Very well, then, gentlemen,’ said he, ‘do as you please, but I protest that I do not agree.’ Then turning to the clerk, he said: ‘Write down that, Mr. Secretary,’ and left the chapter. The canons were too full of the sense of their own importance to heed the protest. Persuaded that it was their duty to check a political movement, which might besides lead to a religious revolution, these churchmen, desirous of displaying a courage similar to that of the Roman senators, peremptorily drew up their declaration against the Swiss alliance, without regard to the resistance of the people which Bonivard had predicted. At the dawn of the canonical institution, when the scattered priests of a church were assembled by the bishop into one body, these priests or canons led at first a life so regular and so strict that the people were enraptured with them. But that did not last long, and the lives of these ecclesiastics too often became so disorderly that the laity turned away from them with disgust and hatred. It had been so at Geneva. The decision of the canons was soon known in the city, and the people immediately assembled in great numbers in the Place Molard. They described the scene in the chapter, of which Bonivard may perhaps have given some hints; and complained that lazy priests should dare to declare their opinions on public matters and take side with the enemies of Geneva. They said that churchmen were always wanting to meddle with politics, and striving, by flattering authority, to gratify their avarice and increase their power. It was proposed to pay these reverend men a visit, and request them to mind their own affairs and leave state matters alone. In fact, the patriots were stirring, and ready, says Bonivard, ‘to proceed in great rage to assault the canons.’ Aimé de Gingins, abbot of Bonmont and episcopal vicar, who lived with his colleagues in the street still known as the Rue des Chanoines,[207] sent in all haste for his friend the prior of St. Victor, that he might stop the people. Would he consent? As the canons had rejected his advice, might he not leave them to get out as they could from the evil