A year elapsed before the new bishop came to Geneva. Was it from fear; or did his temporal occupations keep him away? It was probably the latter motive. He had to come to an understanding with the duke and the pope touching his episcopacy, and he visited Rome in order to obtain his briefs. At last, on the 11th of April, 1523, his solemn entry took place.[308] A great multitude flocked together from all the surrounding districts. The syndics, the councillors, and the people went as far as the bridge of Arve to meet the bishop, who, accompanied by his gentlemen, priests and friends, and having by his side the Countess of Montrevel his sister-in-law, the Marquis of St. Sorlin his second brother, and two of his nephews, advanced ‘riding on a mule beautifully harnessed and gilt, and wearing a green hat, after the fashion of the bishops of Rome.’ The four syndics carried a handsome canopy over his head, which a pelting rain rendered very necessary. ‘More than a hundred horses crept at a snail’s pace before him.’ Four companies of archers, arquebusiers, bowmen, and spearmen marched by with firm steps. In every street of the city ‘young men well mounted, equipped, and accoutred, rode à l’albanaise.’ Dramas, farces, mysteries, games and pastimes were given in the open air in spite of the rain, and the Genevans were full of hope. It might have been said that this branch, so severely shaken and almost separated from the Roman papacy, was about to be restored. Geneva, by welcoming the bishop so cordially, seemed to be welcoming the pope who sent him. This was however in the year 1523. Luther had burnt the bull from Rome; he had said before the Diet of Worms, _I cannot do otherwise_. The Reformation was advancing with great strides at Wittemberg, and was spreading over all Germany. And yet it was just at this time that Geneva received a Roman bishop almost with enthusiasm; but if the energetic city should be disappointed in its expectations, we shall see it rise up against all the framework of Rome and overthrow it without leaving a single piece in its place. For the moment men indulged in the most flattering hopes. La Baume bore a tree (in German _baum_) on his shield; the Genevese presented him a poem, the first lines of which ran thus: But for this tree which God has planted, Geneva would have had no gladness; No branch and no support had I To lean upon in time of sadness. But God be praised for his good work In planting here this goodly tree, Beneath whose shade the poor shall dwell In peace and unity.[309]