The 9th of January was an important date in the history of the Reformation of Geneva, and perhaps (we might add) in that of Europe. The laity were about to resume their rights: a priest was to appear before the Genevese laymen and the Bernese magistrates. As soon as the Council of Two Hundred had assembled, the ambassadors entered, followed by three persons who attracted the special attention of all present. The eyes full of fire, the bold bravery, the indomitable features of one of them marked him to be Farel. The second, less known, had, although young, the prudence of a man in years and the sweetness of a St. John; this was Viret. The third, short in stature and of mean appearance, decided in his gait, lively, and talkative; this was Froment. They all took their seats at the right of the premier syndic. The friar of the order of St. Dominic, entering in his turn, sat on the left on a raised bench. They had met to attack and defend the papacy. The tournament, at which a great crowd of gentlemen and citizens was present, resembled one of those ‘solemn judgments’ to which man had had recourse for ages to terminate certain controversies. The subject of the dispute was more important than usual. Truth and tradition, the middle ages and modern times, independence and slavery, were in the balance. All, therefore, who were interested in divine and human things, waited with impatience. Their expectations were disappointed. Just as the struggle was about to begin, one of the combatants hung back. The Dominican rose and said: ‘Messieurs, I am a monk and doctor of Paris; I cannot appear before laymen without the license of my prelate.’ He sat down. ‘You offered before all the people,’ said Sebastian of Diesbach, ‘to defend your position by the Holy Scriptures, and now you want a licence.’ Farel rose and observed, that the monk and the great apostle were of contrary opinions; ‘St. Paul refused, in such a case, to appear before the priests at Jerusalem, and appealed to Cæsar. Now Cæsar was certainly a layman, and what is more—a heathen.’ The monk forbore to reply to this invincible argument; but looking with pity on the individual who had dared speak to him, said, with a gesture of contempt, ‘that he had nothing to do with that man.’ Then, remembering how the strappado and the stake brought such cavillers to their senses in Paris, he added: ‘Let him go and speak like that in France!’ ‘Good father,’ said the premier syndic, ‘since you will not answer when our lords of Berne accuse you, leave that place and sit on the bench yonder, where you shall hear the rest.’ The monk of St. Dominic had to quit his place of honor and go to the bar; but notwithstanding this humiliation, he again refused to speak. The syndics then sent to ask the grand-vicar to give him leave to answer; but this dignitary replied: ‘I am ill.’ The deputies made the same request to the official, M. de Veigy, who answered: ‘The bishop has forbidden me to do so.’ ‘Shameful!’ exclaimed