The princes of Savoy thought that this was a disorder by which they might profit. Charles had the reputation in his hereditary states of being irresolute in deciding and feeble in executing; but whenever Geneva was concerned, he ventured upon daring measures. He gave the order of departure to his court; took with him one of the most learned diplomatists of the age, Claude de Seyssel, whom he thought he should require in the great matters that were to be transacted, and arrived in Geneva. The vidame, still irritated by the story of the mule, immediately presented his homage to the duke, and described the situation in the gloomiest of colours. ‘You see,’ said Charles to his councillors, ‘the citizens of Geneva are in revolt: it needs _a stronger shepherd than a bishop_ to bring them back to their duty.’ But Seyssel was a man of great judgment; he was no novice either in government or in history; he had studied Thucydides, Appian, Diodorus, and Xenophon, and even rendered them into French. He inquired more particularly into the matter, learned that the notice had been cried by the Abbot of Bonmont’s fool, and that it was the same fellow who sang habitually in the streets all the comic songs produced by the satiric vein of the Genevans. The diplomatist smiled. ‘This business of the mule is a mere practical joke,’ he said to the duke; ‘fools, you know, have the privilege of saying and doing everything; and as for the band of wags who surrounded the buffoon, do not let us make these young men into Cethegi and Catilines. The cardinals will never consent to give us the temporal sovereignty of Geneva for such foolery. It would be too much, my lord, for the first stroke; we must mount to the pinnacle of sovereignty by shorter steps. This story will not however be quite useless to us; we will employ it to sow dissension among our enemies.’ In fine, the able Seyssel having come to an understanding with the bishop, the latter summoned to his presence those of ‘the band,’ that is to say, of the children of Geneva, whom he thought most pliable. ‘You will gain nothing,’ said Claude de Seyssel to them, ‘by following a lot of rioters and rebels. In making this proclamation you committed a wrongful action, and you might justly receive corporal punishment; but the bishop is a good prince, inclined to mercy; he will pardon all of you except Berthelier and his accomplices. He will even give you office, places, and pensions ... only do not consort any more with seditious people.’ Many, delighted at getting out of the scrape, thanked Seyssel heartily, and promised that they should be seen no more among the disaffected.[104] The bastard showed himself more difficult with regard to the son of his procurator-fiscal: the bravadoes of Andrew Navis, at the time of the proclamation about the mule, had aroused all the prelate’s anger. It would seem that the poor father dared not intercede for his prodigal son; one of his friends obtained