Everything in Geneva and even in Europe seemed to favour the designs of Savoy. Charles V. the duke’s brother-in-law, and Francis I. his nephew, were preparing for the war in Lombardy. The struggle between the pope and Luther occupied men’s minds. The Swiss were ‘in great care and discord, city divided against city, and one against another in the same city.’ Bishop Pierre de la Baume was fickle, worldly, fond of gambling, of feasting, of waiting upon the ladies, and of pursuing other pleasures which diverted him from better occupations. Timid and even fearful, changing like a weathercock with every wind, he dreaded above all things to lose the benefices he possessed in the territory of his Highness. All this permitted Charles—at least he thought so—quietly to invade Geneva and unite it to Savoy without Europe’s saying a word. To have his hands still freer, he persuaded De la Baume that his presence in Italy was necessary for the emperor’s service.[323] That done, and thinking the fruit ripe and ready to fall, the duke and duchess made preparations for striking the final blow. They clearly saw the hostile disposition of many of the Genevans; but that was only an additional reason for increased exertions. If, now that a prince of Savoy was born in Geneva, the duke failed in his projects, everything would be lost for many a day. The cue was therefore given to all the Savoyard nobility. The beauty of their gold pieces dazzled the shopkeepers; sports, dinners, balls, masquerades, plays, tournaments, pomp, finery, pleasures, luxuries, and all the allurements which seduce men (say contemporary writers), captivated the worldly and particularly the youth. Some few huguenots talked loudly of independence; some old Genevans still strove to retain their sons; some venerable mothers, seeing their children setting out for the court dressed in their gayest clothes, asked them if they did not blush for the old manners of their fathers,—if they desired to sell their free souls and become the servants of princes?... But all was useless. ‘It is like throwing water on a ball,’ said the afflicted parents; ‘not a drop stays there.’—‘What would you have?’ replied these giddy youths. ‘It is stronger than us. As soon as the charms of the world appear, our appetites carry us away, like runaway horses.’
The monks did not remain behind in this work of corruption. On the 20th of May the Dominicans celebrated the Feast of St. Ives, and invited the youth to one of those notorious vigils where all sorts of abominations were practised. The syndics complained ineffectually to the vicar-general of the scandalous lives (sceleratæ vitæ) of these friars. ‘Go to the convent and remonstrate with them,’ said this ecclesiastic. And when the syndics went there, the prior acknowledged that the monks led a dissolute life, but, he added, ‘it is to no purpose that I speak to them of correction; they answer that, if I do not hold my tongue, they will turn me out of the monastery.’[324] By their vices the clergy were digging a gulf beneath their feet, into which they would drag everything—doctrine, worship, and Church. All appeared to combine for the enslavement of Geneva. Neither the emperor, nor the king, nor the pope, nor the bishop, nor the Swiss, nor even the Genevese themselves, watched over the independence of the city. The living waters of the Gospel alone could purify these Augean stables. ‘God only remained,’ said Bonivard; ‘but while Geneva slept, He kept watch for her.’[325]
Geneva was indeed about to wake up. The enervating dreams of the ‘golden youth’ were beginning to fade away. Not only those to whom the New Testament had been brought, not only the friends of independence, but thoughtful men of order and of law were going to oppose the duke. A new martyr was to fertilise a generous soil with his blood, and prepare the final victory of right and liberty.
CHAPTER XXIII.
AIMÉ LÉVRIER, A MARTYR TO LIBERTY AND RIGHT AT THE CASTLE OF BONNE.
(March 1524.)
There was one citizen in Geneva who greatly embarrassed the duke, and this was Lévrier. It was neither from pride, resentment, nor envy that he resisted the usurpations of the prince, but from an ardent love of justice and respect for the old charters of liberty. He had less spirit than Berthelier, but more gravity; less popularity, but severer manners; more prudence, and quite as much courage. He was not a declaimer; he did not, like the energetic Philibert or the impetuous Maison-Neuve, make his voice heard in the streets: it was in the councils where he calmly put forward his inflexible veto. The more violent huguenots reproached him with his moderation; they said that ‘when men are too stiff to yield to the breath of persuasion, we must strike them heavily with the hammer; and when flaming brands are kindling a conflagration everywhere, we must rush upon them like a torrent and extinguish them.’ But Lévrier, firm in regard to right, was mild in regard to men. An intrepid preserver of the law, he upheld it without clamour, but without hesitation or fear. Never has there lived, in ancient or in modern republics, a citizen of whom it could be better said than of him:
Non vultus instantis tyranni,
Mente quatit solida.[326]
The moment approached when Lévrier would say in Geneva for liberty what Luther had lately said in Worms for truth: ‘I can do no otherwise.’ But, less fortunate than the monk of Wittemberg, he will hardly have uttered these words before he will receive his death-blow. These martyrs of liberty at the foot of the Alps, who were to be followed in so many different places by the martyrs of the Gospel, lit up a new flame upon the earth. And hence it is that a grateful posterity, represented by the pious christians of the New World, places a triumphal garland on the humble tombs of Berthelier and of Lévrier, as well as of Luther and of Calvin.[327]
As the office of vidame belonged to the duke, it was always through the vidamy that the princes of Savoy interfered with the affairs of Geneva; and accordingly they nominated to this post only such men as were well known for the servility of their character. The duke had replaced the wretched Aymon Conseil by the Sieur de Salagine; and when the latter died, he nominated Verneau, sire of Rougemont and one of his chamberlains, in his place.[328] ‘Oh, oh!’ said the citizens, ‘the duke knows his men. If Conseil knew so well the sound of his tabor, this man knows it better still, and we shall have a pretty dance.’[329] Charles, dissatisfied with the inferior jurisdiction that belonged to him, proposed to make the conquest of Geneva, and to accomplish it in two movements. By the first, he would take possession of all the courts of law; by the second, of the sovereignty. And then his sojourn in Geneva would have attained its end.
By way of beginning, Charles desired that the vidame should make oath to him and not to the bishop—a pretension opposed to the constitution, for in Geneva the prince of Savoy was only an inferior officer of the bishop; and the duke in this way substituted himself for the prince of the city. They were nearly giving way, for the Marquis of St. Sorlin, the prelate’s brother, intrusted with the bishop’s temporal interests while he was in Italy, and even the episcopal council, desired to please the duke and grant something to so mighty a lord. But that vigilant sentinel Lévrier immediately placed himself in the breach. He represented to the episcopal council that the bishop was not free to sacrifice the rights of the state; that he was only the simple administrator, and had to render an account ‘to the empire, the chapter, the republic, and posterity.’ The vidame was forced to make oath to the bishop’s representatives, whereupon the irritated duke ordered his chamberlain to give an account of his office to none but him. Lévrier saw that Savoy was planting her batteries against Geneva—that the war was beginning; and determining to save the independence of his country, he resolved to oppose, even at the risk of his life, the criminal usurpations of the foreign prince.[330]
The struggle between the duke and the judge threatened to become terrible, and could only be ended by the death of one of the combatants or the expulsion of the other. Everything was favourable to the duke. ‘Who can hinder him,’ said his courtiers, ‘from becoming sovereign of Geneva?—The bishop? Although he may make a great fuss, he will easily be quieted, for he has benefices without number in his Highness’s states.—Pope Clement? The duke is in alliance with him.—The emperor? His marriage with the duchess’s sister is in progress.—The Swiss League? They are in great anxiety about the house of Austria, and they too are divided city against city on account of religion.—The people of Geneva? The court, by spending its money freely, has gained them.—Berthelier? He is dead.—The other huguenots? They were so roughly handled at the time of the former enterprise, that they are afraid of getting into hot water again.... What remains to prevent the duke from accomplishing his undertaking?’—‘There remains but God,’ said the patriots.[331]