It was thought that they were hiding in the bishop’s palace: it was probable, indeed, that secretary Portier, who lived there, had gone thither and given a refuge to his accomplices, as being the safest place in all Geneva. ‘We will go and take them there,’ said Syndic Du Crest, a catholic but loyal man. The other syndics rose, and all quitted the hotel-de-ville followed by their officers. At the imposing sight of the chief magistrates of the city, demanding an entrance into the palace, the bishop’s servants opened the doors, and a strict search began immediately. Not a chamber or a cellar or a garret escaped the inquisitive eyes of the magistrates and their sergeants; ‘but for all the pains they took,’ says the ‘Council Register,’ ‘none of the culprits were found.’ Many believed they had escaped; Perronnette alone, the episcopal secretary’s wife, seeing the vigor with which the assassins were hunted after, felt her anguish doubled as to the fate of her husband. The syndics, wishing to prevent new intrigues, resolved to leave a few of their officers in the episcopal mansion, with orders to keep guard during the night. The men stationed themselves in the vestibule to wait for the morning; but no one in the city knew they were there.
These brave men were talking of what was going on in Geneva, when a little before eight o’clock at night (it had been dark for some time, as it was the beginning of February), a low, smothered voice was heard in the street, as if some one was speaking through the key-hole. The guards listened. The voice was heard again and pronounced several times in a distinct manner the name of the portress. ‘It was a priest softly calling to the servant,’ says the ‘Council Register.’ The huguenots, understanding instantly the advantage they could derive from this unexpected circumstance, desired a young man who was with them to imitate a woman’s voice and answer. Disguising his tones, he said: ‘What do you want?’ The priest having no doubts about the sex and functions of the speaker, said (still in a low voice) that he wanted certain keys for Mr. Secretary Portier and Claude Pennet. It is probable they wished to use them to hide in some safer place, and perhaps leave the city by a secret gate. The young man, again assuming a female voice, said: ‘What will you do with them?’ ‘I shall take them to St. Pierre’s church, where they are hidden,’ answered the priest. It was just what the guard wanted to know. One of them got up, opened the gate, and the priest, seeing an armed man instead of a woman, fled in affright. The guard, without stopping to pursue him, ran to the hotel-de-ville, where the council was sitting en permanence, and told the whole story to the syndics. The murderers whom they were looking for were hidden in the cathedral. The magistrates determined to go there immediately.
The Search.
It was no slight task to seek the assassins in the vast cathedral, all filled with chapels, altars, and other places where men could hide. The syndics entered between eight and nine o’clock at night with a certain number of officers carrying flambeaux. The doors were shut immediately, so that no one could get out, and a dead silence prevailed in the nave. Under the flickering light of the torches, this pile, one of the finest monuments of the twelfth century, displayed all its august majesty. But that splendor of byzantine and gothic architecture, those graceful proportions, that admirable unity so well calculated to produce a deep impression of grandeur and harmony, did not strike My Lords of Geneva, who were thinking of other matters. Du Crest and his colleagues were not occupied with architectural decorations and holy images.... They were hunting for murderers.
The search began: the magistrates and their officers went over the chapels of the Holy Cross, the Virgin, St. Martin, St. Maurice, St. Anthony, and nine others in the interior; they examined carefully the eighteen altars, so richly adorned with all that the catholic worship requires. The sergeants took their flambeaux into every corner, they lifted up the carpets, they stooped to search for the culprits. The apse, the transept, the sanctuary, they searched them all; they examined the vestry, the stalls, the aisles, the galleries, the stairs—they found nothing. They next went into the chapel of the Maccabees, adjoining the cathedral, and which the cardinal-bishop, Jean de Brogny, had built a century before, adorning it with magnificent carvings, gorgeous paintings, and mouldings enriched with beads of gold. They passed by those tables where might still be seen a young man keeping swine under an oak, the cardinal desiring in this manner to recall the humble recollections of his early life; but neither Portier, nor Pennet, nor any of their accomplices could be found. The search had lasted nearly three hours, and the magistrates and their officers were beginning to lose all hope, when the idea occurred to one of them that possibly the murderers they were looking after might be hidden in one of the three towers. The syndics and their suite resolved to examine them, beginning with the south tower, one hundred and fifty feet high. As they climbed the numerous steps, they thought that, if the evidence of the priest was true, the criminals must be there, and they might perhaps find not only Portier and the Pennets, but a band of their friends well armed. The stairs being very narrow, it would have been easy for the episcopals to close the passage and even to kill some of those who were looking after them. The men who executed the syndic’s orders ascended slowly and steadily, and approached the great steeple with its four gothic windows surmounted by semi-circular arches. The steps of this numerous party re-echoed through the winding staircase. The officer of the Council, who marched at the head of the band, having reached the top of the tower, carefully put forward his torch and saw arms glittering and eyes sparkling in one corner. He drew near, followed by his friends, and discovered the crafty Portier and the violent Pennet, crouching down, ‘armed,’ says the Register, ‘with swords, iron pikes, axes, and daggers, and covered with coats of mail.’ The two malefactors, although armed to the teeth, did not think of defending themselves: they were more dead than alive. The officers of the State seized them and shut them up in the prison of the hotel-de-ville.[[470]]
The Plot Discovered.
While these things were going on at St. Pierre’s, the guard which the syndics had left at the palace, encouraged by the success of their stratagem, had resolved to take advantage of the opportunity to get at the secrets of the house; and, assuming a simple, good-natured air, they entered into conversation with the servants, questioning them so skilfully that they soon knew all they wanted. ‘The bishop’s secretary, alone and without support, is too weak,’ they said, ‘to withstand the will of the council and people.’ ‘But he is not so alone as you think,’ answered one; ‘he has with him my lord the bishop, his highness the Duke of Savoy;’ and then he continued proudly, ‘he has even received letters from them!’ The independent citizens, affecting incredulity, exclaimed! ‘What! Portier receive secret messages from such great personages!’ ... One of the episcopals, piqued by the disdainful sneer, declared aloud, ‘that the letters were in existence, in buffeto (says the Council Register, in its classic Latin), in the secretary’s buffet.’ At these words the sly huguenots started up suddenly, and, hurrying in great glee to Portier’s room, broke open the cupboard, took out the papers lying there, and carried them to the syndics. This discovery was still more important than the other.
The magistrates hastened to open the packet, and found a bundle of papers, all having reference to the plot which the bishop had contrived for the subjugation of Geneva. They examined the contents and were alarmed. ‘Here is an act signed by the bishop on the 12th of January last,—only twenty days ago,—appointing a governor for the temporalities, with power to punish rebels. The prince, of his mere caprice, establishes an unconstitutional agent, who is to have no other law than his own will. Here are blank warrants sealed with the arms of the Dukes of Savoy. It is a downright conspiracy, a crime of high-treason.’ The date of the act made it sufficiently clear that Pierre de la Baume was the instigator of the troubles which had been on the point of throwing the city into confusion. It was determined that Portier, the recognized agent of this revolutionary intrigue, should be tried before the syndics; and a public prosecutor, Jean Lambert, a sound huguenot, was elected to conduct the proceedings.[[471]]
However, before commencing this trial, that of Pennet, less complicated than the other, was to be concluded. The case was clear, provided for by the law, and not pardonable. Claude Pennet stood forward boldly, like a man enduring persecution for the Christian religion. He was convicted of having murdered Nicholas Berger in his shop at the Perron, and Syndic du Crest, a catholic but a wise man, pronounced the sentence of death. This made no change in Pennet’s manner. He did not repent the deed he had done: fanaticism stifled the voice of conscience in him. It was the same with all his friends, zealots of the Roman party. In them passion took the place of reason, and they boasted of the murder as an honorable, holy, and heroic act. Pennet asked to see Furbity, the Dominican, who was detained in prison for having insulted the adversaries of Rome. The monk of the order of the Inquisition was conducted to the murderer’s cell, ‘and when they saw each other they could not forbear from weeping,’ says the nun of St. Claire.[[472]] Pennet wished to die piously: ‘therefore this good catholic made his confession.’ ... ‘I am condemned to the scaffold for the love of Jesus Christ,’ he said to the Dominican, ‘and I entreat your holy prayers.’ The reverend father, moved to tears by the piety and wretched fate of this precious son of the Church, kissed him, and said: ‘Sire Claude, go cheerfully and rejoice in your martyrdom, nothing doubting; for the kingdom of heaven is open and the angels are waiting for you.’[[473]]
Pennet’s Execution And Miracles.