It was Charles’s disposition to seek to triumph by stratagem rather than by force. In that age princes imagined that no one could resist them; he therefore attempted to win over Lévrier by means of those favours of which courtiers are so greedy. But in order to succeed, it was necessary to have a little private talk with him away from Geneva and the Genevans. ‘What glorious sunshine!’ said they one morning at the ducal court: ‘let us take advantage of this fine winter weather to visit the castle of Bonne and spend a few days at the foot of the soft and smiling slopes of the Voirons mountain.’ The duke, the duchess, and the court made their preparations, and, as a special mark of his good-will, Charles invited Lévrier to accompany him. Arrived at this charming retreat, surrounded by snow-clad mountains gilded by the bright sunshine, the duke led the worthy man aside, addressed him in friendly language, and as Lévrier answered with respect, Charles profited by what he thought to be a favourable moment, and said to him in an insinuating tone: ‘You know that I am sovereign lord of Geneva, and that you are my subject.’—‘No, my lord,’ immediately replied the judge, ‘I am not your subject, and you are not sovereign of Geneva.’ The duke dissembled his anger, but Lévrier seeming impatient to return to Geneva, Charles allowed him to depart, and as he saw that inflexible man disappear, he swore that he should pay dearly for his boldness ... at the foot of that very mountain, in that very castle where he had dared tell the Duke of Savoy that he was not his sovereign.[332]
The duke returned, and being resolved to put his hand to the task, he communicated to the episcopal council, with all suitable precautions, his firm intention to assume henceforward the rights of sovereignty. Charles knew the weakness, the venality even of the prince-bishop’s councillors, who were unwilling at any price to displease Savoy. As soon as the report of this demand was known in the city, everybody exclaimed against it; they said that the superior jurisdiction belonged only to the sovereign, and that if the duke should obtain it, he would have to take but one step more to be recognised as lord of Geneva. The weakest thought their independence lost. ‘Be easy,’ said wiser men, ‘there is a certain “child of Geneva” in the council, who will shut all their mouths.’ They were not deceived; determined to oppose an inflexible resistance to Charles’s demand, Lévrier began to strengthen the weak, to win over the cowards, and to intimidate the traitors. ‘Neither the duke nor the senate of Savoy,’ he said, ‘has any authority in Geneva. The jurisdiction belongs to the city and to its head, the bishop: the duke, when within our walls, is a vassal, and not a sovereign.’[333] These bold but true words made a deep impression; Gruet, the vicar-episcopal, resolved to join Lévrier in defending the rights of his master. The opposition was not less energetic among the citizens. It was the time for nominating syndics; the alarmed huguenots resolved to place one of the warmest friends of independence among the chief magistrates. They elected Claude Richardet, a man of steady principles and decided character, ‘tall, handsome, powerful, and very choleric,’ says a chronicle.
When Charles and his counsellors saw the episcopal and the popular authorities uniting against them, they did not lose heart, but preached openly in Geneva the system which the dukes of Savoy had long adopted—the necessity of separating Church and State. What did it matter if Lévrier, and even Gruet, the vicar-episcopal, made a show of defending the bishop’s temporal rights?—the duke believed that Pierre de la Baume would be found tractable. The most advanced huguenots desired to have a free church in a free state; but the duke wanted a church enslaved by the pope in a state enslaved by the duke. ‘Let the bishop keep his clerical authority,’ said the ducal officers, who were irritated by the opposition of the episcopal officers; ‘let him keep his amulets, chaplets, and all such wares; let his parishioners indulge, some in sensuality, others in mortifications; let them, with all the monks, black, white, and grey, debauchees, gamblers, inquisitors, mountebanks, flagellants, women of lewd life, and indulgence-sellers, go on a pilgrimage to Loretto, to St. James of Compostella, to Mecca if the bishop likes ... well and good ... that is the priests’ department, and we abandon it to them. But the civil power belongs to the laity; the courts of secular justice, the municipal liberties, and the command of the troops ought to be in the hands of a secular prince. Souls to the bishop, body and goods to my lord of Savoy!’ This great zeal for the separation of the religious from the political order had no other object than to satisfy the ambition of Savoy. But Geneva profited by these interested homilies, and emancipated herself even beyond Charles’s wishes. Yet a few more years, and this city will be enfranchised from both kinds of despotism. The temporal and spiritual power will be taken from the hands of the bishop nominated by Rome; and while the former will be restored to the hands of the citizens, the latter will be in the hands of the Head of the Church and of his Word of truth.
The day after the election, the duke held a grand reception. The new syndics came to pay their respects to him; Gruet, the vicar, and other episcopal officers were present. Charles on a sudden unmasked his battery: ‘Mr. Vicar, I have heard that the episcopal officers of this city interfere in profane matters; I mean to reform this abuse; the State and the Church are two distinct spheres. Hitherto my officers, the vidames, have not had sufficient power.[334] Having recently nominated one of my chamberlains to this post, a man much esteemed and of good repute, the noble Hugh de Rougemont, I shall no longer permit the bishop to interfere in civil causes.’ The vicar, who had been prepared by Lévrier for this attack and remembered the lesson well, made answer: ‘Your Highness is aware that my lord of Geneva is both bishop and prince; he possesses the two jurisdictions in this city.’ The irascible duke, who did not expect any opposition from a vicar, grew angry: ‘I intend that it shall be so no longer,’ he continued; ‘and if the bishop pardons when my vidame has condemned, I will hang up with their letters of grace all to whom he grants them.’ Everybody trembled. The pusillanimous vicar held his tongue, while the syndics endeavoured to pacify the prince, although at the same time backing up Gruet’s remarks. Then the courtiers of Savoy came forward, and, playing the part that had been assigned them in this wretched comedy, magnified the favours which the duke would heap on the city. There would be signal advantages for commerce, merchandise at half price, great rejoicings, magnificent feasts, fête after fête for the ladies of the city,[335] graceful and friendly combats in presence of their highnesses, dances and tournaments.[336] Geneva would become a little paradise. The duke was such a good prince, what folly to reject him! Notwithstanding all this coaxing, the huguenots thought to themselves that the prince’s mule, be he ever so richly harnessed, none the less carries a saddle that galls him.
The duke took counsel again. He thought he had made an important step at the time of the syndics’ reception. He had now resided eight months in Geneva, as if he had no other capital; now or never he must realise the hereditary schemes of his family. He must hurry on the conclusion, and with that view get rid of the obstacle. That obstacle was Lévrier. This Mordecai, who refused to bow before him, thwarted the projects of Turin and exasperated the weak Charles and the haughty Beatrice. All the courtiers rose against him: they hesitated no longer. Sometimes bold strokes are necessary, and Machiavelli had taught the princes of Italy what was to be done in such cases. They thought that the annexation of Geneva to Savoy was of too great importance not to require the sacrifice of a victim. This man was as a rock in their path, obstructing their advance: it was necessary to remove it. Lévrier’s death was decided upon.
The bishop’s council, which was regarded by the episcopalians as the sovereign council, was summoned to appear before the duke; all the members, except Lévrier, attended. The episcopal councillors had hardly entered Charles’s presence, ‘when, unable to contain himself, he waxed very wroth.’ ‘Do you presume,’ he exclaimed, ‘to disobey my orders?’ Then by his gestures, indicating his cruel intentions, he addressed them in such savage language ‘as to put them in fear of their lives.’ The councillors, who were almost frightened to death, ‘then did like the stag, which (says a chronicle) casts his horns to the dogs in order to save himself.’[337] ‘My lord,’ they said, ‘it is not our fault; it is Lévrier that has done it all; he maintains stoutly that Monsieur of Savoy has no authority in Geneva.’ Whereupon the duke, pretending not to know him, exclaimed: ‘What! another Lévrier in my path! Why his father opposed the surrender of the artillery of Geneva to me in 1507! Bring the son here!’ The judge’s colleagues consented, provided the duke would engage on his side to do him no injury, which Charles promised.
Lévrier knew that his life was at stake, and everybody advised him to leave Geneva; but he resolved not to go out of his way. Two days after the first conference, the episcopal council, accompanied by Lévrier, appeared again before the duke, who had scarcely caught sight of him, when, fiercely scowling at them, he said: ‘There are some of you who say that I am not sovereign of Geneva.’ ... He stopped short, but finding that they all remained silent, he continued: ‘It is one Lévrier.’ ... Then fixing his angry eyes upon him, he called out with a threatening voice: ‘Is that fellow Lévrier here?’ Consternation fell upon all the spectators: ‘they huddled together, but said not a word.’ Charles, who knew Lévrier very well, observing that terror had so far answered, repeated in a still louder tone: ‘Is that fellow Lévrier here?’—The judge modestly stepped forward and said calmly: ‘Here I am, my lord.’ The duke, whom such calmness irritated still more, burst out: ‘Have you not said that I am not sovereign of Geneva?’—‘My lord,’ he answered, ‘if I have said anything, it was in the council, where every one has the right to speak freely. You ought not to know of it, and I ought not to be molested about it.’—‘Go,’ said the duke, not heeding this just remark, ‘prepare to prove to me within three days that what you say is true. Otherwise I will not answer for your life ... wherever I may be. Leave my presence!’[338] And they all went out.
‘Lévrier departed in great trouble,’ said Bonivard. The death with which he was threatened was inevitable. There were plenty of authentic acts, the Franchises in particular, by which he could prove that the duke possessed no authority in Geneva; but many of these documents were in the hands of the canons, devoted to the duke; and the syndics refused to lay before the prince such as were in their care, for fear he should throw them into the fire. It is not improbable that such was Charles’s intention when he called for them.[339] ‘He has set a condition upon my life,’ said Lévrier, ‘which it is impossible to fulfil.... Do what I may, there is nothing left for me but to die.’
His friends wished to save him at all hazards. Bonivard, who was less courageous than Lévrier, and under similar circumstances had taken to flight, continually reverted to the subject: ‘There is no escape,’ he said, ‘except you leave the country.’ But Lévrier was not to be moved. Faithful preserver of the ancient customs, he was determined to oppose the usurpations of Savoy to the very last. According to the Genevese, St. Peter—they did not mean the pope—was the prince of their city. Had they not the key of this apostle in their escutcheon? Lévrier replied to the entreaties of his friends, and especially of Bonivard: ‘I would rather die for the liberty of the city and for the authority of St. Peter, than confess myself guilty by deserting my post.’ The prior of St. Victor was greatly distressed at the answer. He insisted, he conjured his friend, but all to no purpose. ‘Is it imprudence on his part?’ said he then. ‘Is it envy that urges him to be the rival of Berthelier? Is it that he desires to be a champion of the commonwealth at the price of his blood? I know not what motive impels him; but be it what it may, he will no longer confide in our advice.’ Lévrier, indeed, went about just as before, even after the term (three days) prescribed by the duke; he waited tranquilly for the blow to fall upon him.[340]
Charles the Good—such is the name he bears in the history of Savoy—was plotting the death of this just man. His steward and favourite, the Sieur de Bellegarde, was an enemy of Lévrier’s, and all the more violent because he had long been his friend. The prince and his steward deliberated over the means best calculated to make away with him. At Geneva it seemed impossible; and as a second edition of Berthelier’s death was out of the question, it became necessary to draw Lévrier into some lonely spot, where he might easily be put to death. Bellegarde undertook to carry him off, and the duke ordered him to be brought to the castle of Bonne, where Lévrier had dared to say him No! Bellegarde came to an understanding with some Savoyard gentlemen, and being informed that on Saturday, the 12th of March, the judge would attend mass as usual in the cathedral of St. Pierre, the steward arranged with these infamous courtiers that they should lie in ambush near the church, and seize him as he came out.