J. H. Merle D'Aubigné - History of the Reformation in Europe in the Time of Calvin (Vol. 1-8)

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.

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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.’ 329Charles, 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

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.’ 333These 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.