said, ‘that the people should assemble to-morrow, Sunday, at eight in the forenoon, in the cloister of St. Pierre. Have this published by sound of trumpet, and let the heads of families be informed by sending from door to door.’ Then turning to the vicar, he added: ‘You will be present with all the episcopal council.’ He informed them that he would visit the assembly on his way to mass, and would then tell them his pleasure; so that the council might prepare their answer during service-time, and he would receive it on his way back. The ducal partisans ran from street to street and from house to house in order to muster all their forces at an assembly called in the name of a prince whose subjects lived at Chambéry and Turin.[384] The liberals, who were still numerous in Geneva, pretty generally kept away: they did not consider a council assembled by the duke to be legitimate. The next day, Sunday, December 10, the great bell of the cathedral having summoned the citizens, men whose names are for the most part unknown appeared to form a council. The most important portion in this _popular_ assembly was not the people, but the duke, who appeared between nine and ten o’clock, accompanied by the Bishop of Maurienne, the episcopal council, the chancellor of Savoy, and his chamberlains, esquires, officers, and many gentlemen from his states; before and behind came the archers of Savoy. Carrying their halberds with a threatening air, and impatient to reduce this herd of shopkeepers under their prince, these mercenaries gave the meeting the appearance of a battle-field rather than of a council. Nothing like it had ever been witnessed in the city. Resolved that day to make the conquest of Geneva, Charles proudly mounted to the place reserved for the sovereign; his courtiers drew up to the right and left, and his soldiers formed in a circle round the assembly, while above their heads flashed the broad-pointed bills at the end of the long staves, as if to frighten the citizens. The duke reclining upon the throne, which was covered with rich tapestry, ordered his chancellor to explain his sovereign intentions. The latter, making a low bow, read: ‘About three months ago, as the duke was preparing to cross the mountains on Italian business, he learnt that certain seditious people, who have fled to the country of the League, were sowing dissension between him and the bishop, between Geneva and the Swiss.... Whereupon his Highness, who has always been a mild and gentle prince to this city, seeing it threatened by a frightful calamity, neglected his own interests, hastened to you, and has spared neither money nor pains to restore peace among you. In return for so many benefits, this magnanimous prince asks but one thing ... that you should recognise him as your sovereign protector.’ The protection was evidently a mere veil to hide dominion and despotism; accordingly the few honest citizens there present were dispirited and silent. It was necessary to make haste,