XVII.
The prince of Condé was first in the field; still young and full of zeal for religion, he was impatient to vindicate his claim to the high place, to which his birth entitled him. But he possessed less military talent than courage; he passed the Loire upon false intelligence, and having advanced too far, lost at the gates of Angers the first army, which was raised against the Leaguers.
In Languedoc, the Duke de Montmorency (formerly Marshal Damville) renewed his alliance with the Calvinist party, and nothing took place in this province but the encounters of partisans. Lesdiguières, at the head of the Huguenots of Dauphiny, took possession of several strong places, and managed to keep all that country quiet. The king of Navarre maintained his position in Guienne. Henry III. courted him, and proposed that he should change his religion, in order to deprive the League of its most formidable argument; and Catherine de Medicis, always ready to open negotiations, visited and conferred with the Béarnese king, towards the end of the year 1586, at the castle of Saint Bris, near Cognac. But her Italian finesse this time met with no success.
The war continued without any important engagement until the battle of Coutras. The two armies met on the 20th of October, 1587. They presented a striking contrast. On the side of the Calvinists there were from five to six thousand men, badly attired, with buffalo-skins in tatters, and having no other ornaments than their faithful swords and good cuirasses. On the side of the (Roman) Catholics, who were commanded by the Duke de Joyeuse, there were from ten to twelve thousand men, the flower of the courtiers, dressed in silk and velvet, with arms chased with silver and enamel, their lances adorned with large streamers, floating plumes, and bearing on their scarfs the mottoes of their mistresses. The former were soldiers fashioned in trouble and hardship; the latter elegant cavaliers, who seemed as if they had assembled to assist at a tournament.
Some days before the battle, at the instance of the faithful Mornay, Henry publicly expressed his repentance for having brought dishonour upon a family of La Rochelle. Upon being told that the clergy were very severe towards him, “A person cannot,” said he, “humiliate himself too much before God, nor too boldly brave mankind.”
At the commencement of the battle the Reformed kneeled down, and sang the 118th Psalm:—“This is the day that the Lord hath made,” &c. “S’death,” cried the nobles in Joyeuse’s camp, “they tremble—the poltroons—they confess!” “Gentlemen,” said an old officer, “when the Huguenots are in this vein they are ready to fight well.”
They fought bravely, in truth, and the rout of the (Roman) Catholics was complete. The Duke de Joyeuse fell, together with half his army. The Béarnese king showed great humanity after the victory; he gave orders that the wounded should be cared for, dismissed nearly all the prisoners without ransom, and deplored that so much French blood had been shed.
At the news of this defeat, the indignation of the League was redoubled against Henry III., and the doctors of the Sorbonne decided at a conventicle, that the crown might be taken from an incapable prince, as a worthless guardian is deprived of the charge intrusted to him. All eyes were now turned towards the duke of Guise, who had just cut in pieces a numerous army of German troopers that had been sent to aid the Huguenots.
In consequence of this success, the popularity of the Balafré had greatly increased. The pope sent him a sword which he had blessed; Philip II. and the duke of Savoy congratulated him; and the Parisians, excited by the voice of the priesthood, proclaimed him the saviour of the Church.
He showed himself grateful for the assistance of the clergy; for, at a meeting held at Nancy, it was by his means decided that a proposal should be made to the king to publish the canons of the Council of Trent, and to institute the Holy Inquisition in France;—“a worthy means,” said the manifesto, “of exterminating heresy, provided the officers of the Inquisition be strangers.”
From the enthusiasm of the priests and people sprung the day of the Barricades, the 12th of May, 1588. Henry of Guise was carried in triumph to the Louvre; and the king, whose personal liberty was endangered, fled disguised as a countryman, accompanied by some footmen, swearing in his heart, death to him whom he called “the king of Paris.”
Five months afterwards, he opened the second States-General of Blois, which were entirely composed of Leaguers. He protested by the most solemn oaths that he was desirous of labouring to accomplish the total extirpation of heresy, and that no one should be more ardent in the work than himself. But he was not believed. The duke of Guise alone possessed the confidence of the States, and had only another step to ascend in order to seat himself upon the throne of France.
Henry III. prevented this by causing him to be assassinated on the 23rd of December, by some of his nobles. “Ah! my friends, ah! my friends,” exclaimed the Balafré, when he felt that he was pierced by a dagger, “have mercy!” When all was over, the king came out of his closet, and asked one of the murderers, “Do you think that he is dead, Loignac?” “I believe that he is, sire; he has the hue of death upon him,” was the answer. Henry having for a moment looked at his victim, kicked him in the face. Had the duke retained a last breath of life, he could but then have remembered the murdered Coligny.
Henry III. left the room and visited his mother, who was ill in bed. “The king of Paris exists no longer, madam,” said he; “henceforth I shall reign alone; I have now no rival.” “It is a clean cut, my son,” replied Catherine, “but it must be sewn up again; have you taken proper precautions?”
Twelve days after this event Catherine died, leaving her last son with an insecure crown, the kingdom inflamed, and the whole nation discontented. She descended to the tomb amid the execration of the Calvinists, and the disdain of the (Roman) Catholics. “There were none to care for her, her malady, or her death,” says L’Estoile, “and no more notice was taken of her than of a dead she-goat.” Lincestre, one of the preachers of the League, in announcing this news to the people, said, “A difficulty presents itself to-day, and that is whether the Church should pray for one, who has lived so ill, and so often countenanced heresy; upon which I would say, that if you should think it worth while to venture upon giving her a Pater or an Ave, as an act of charity, it will be as useful to her as it can be.” Here then were the fruits of thirty years of intrigue, treason, and crime.
The murder of the duke of Guise interposed an abyss between the king and the Leaguers. Seventy theologians of the Sorbonne, after having attended mass, absolved the people from their oath of fealty. The priests formed a procession of one hundred thousand children, who carried lighted tapers, and extinguished them by trampling them underfoot, whilst repeating, “God grant that the race of Valois may soon become utterly extinct!” From the pulpits, dreadful imprecations were denounced against Henry III.; the duty of regicide was openly proclaimed, and one of the preachers declared that France could only recover from its malady by a potion of French blood.
Reduced to the greatest extremity, and compelled to shut himself up in the city of Tours as a last resource, Henry III. made advances to the Calvinists, who were in possession of the country on the other side of the Loire.
The latter had undertaken no enterprise of importance. They had lost, in the month of March, 1588, Henry of Condé, their second chief in rank, but the first perhaps in the confidence with which he inspired them. This prince died at Saint Jean d’Angély, at the age of thirty-four years. His early death, and the mysterious circumstances attending it, gave rise to suspicion that he had been poisoned, which was confirmed after the body had been opened. His wife, Princess Charlotte de la Trémoille, a recent convert, and surrounded by a (Roman) Catholic family of high rank, was accused of the crime. This affair, however, which was subsequently brought before the Parliament of Paris, has never been properly cleared up.
Whilst the League held its States-General at Blois, the Calvinists convoked a political assembly at La Rochelle. It was opened on the 14th of November, 1588, in the town-hall. The king of Navarre attended with Viscount de Turenne, Prince de la Trémoille, and the other nobles of their party. There was more order and respect for authority displayed in this assembly than at that at Blois. Rules were determined upon in reference to the administration of justice, the finances, the levy of soldiers, military discipline, and to all those objects, which were of interest to the common weal. Before separating, the deputies addressed a memorial to Henry III., in which they prayed for the re-establishment of the Edict of January.
After the death of the duke of Guise, the Béarnese king addressed a manifesto to the three estates of France, in which he protested his fidelity to the crown, and invited the French nation to put an end to their differences. “I conjure you all, then,” said he, in conclusion, “Catholics, servants of the king, as well as those who are not so; I appeal to you as Frenchmen; I beseech you to have pity on this state and on yourselves. We have all committed and suffered evil enough. We have been intoxicated, senseless and furious, for four years. Is not this sufficient? Has not God visited all enough to make us wise now, and to appease our wrath?”
Although the two kings had a common interest in coming to an understanding, long hesitation was manifested on both sides. Could Henry tender his hand to his oldest enemies? Would he not, in calling them to his aid, justify all the reproaches of the Leaguers, who accused him of never having ceased to hold secret correspondence with the Huguenots? And the Calvinists on their side, did they not know that the hatred of Henry III. against heresy was inveterate, and that he could never become sincerely reconciled to the brothers and sons of those, whom he had massacred on Saint Bartholomew’s day? Could they so forget that inconceivable, that shameful speech of Henry III. before the Estates of Blois, that even when he promised by the most sacred oaths to spare the heretics, he was not to be believed? But notwithstanding these mutual dislikes, they were forced to yield to necessity.
On the 30th April, 1589, the two kings had a first interview at the castle of Plessis-les-Tours, an old manor of Louis XI. The Béarnese king caused a portion of his nobility to cross the water, and entered the boat with his guards. During the passage, he only said to Marshal d’Aumont, who had been sent to him by the king, “Marshal, I go upon your word.” Arrived at the other bank, he kneeled before Henry III., who raised and embraced him.
On the same day he wrote to Mornay: “The ice has been broken, not without numerous warnings, that if I ventured, I was a dead man.” His faithful minister replied to him, “Sire, you have acted as you should, but as no one ought to have counselled you.”
From this period the affairs of Henry III. took a favourable turn. The Leaguers were defeated in several encounters. An army of forty-two thousand men, commanded by the two kings, advanced to the gates of Paris and prepared to commence a general assault. The Duke de Mayenne had only eight thousand disheartened troops. The leaders of the League began to lose all hope, the priests were cast down; the Reformed looked forward to a better future, when the knife of a Dominican monk, Jacques Clément, disconcerted at the same time the hopes and the fears of each party.
Henry III. died of his wound, at the end of eighteen hours, on the 10th August, 1589. With him the race of Valois became extinct. Francis I. met with a shameful death; Henry II. was mortally wounded in a tournament; Francis II. did not attain the age of manhood; Charles IX. expired in the convulsions of an unknown malady; the Duke d’Alençon prematurely expired in debauchery and disgrace; and Henry III. perished by the knife of an assassin. The Valois carry on their forehead the ineffaceable brand of the massacre of Saint Bartholomew.[72]
If history ought not to be a mere object of curiosity, it is still desirable to tell what were the ideas of religion and the manners of this court, where such fanatic intolerance was paramount.
After the celebration of mass, astrologers were visited at their houses, in order to procure philtres and poisons. All the magic arts, all the witchcraft imported from Italy by Catherine de Medicis, were in vogue. The courtiers kept small wax figures in their cabinets, and pierced their hearts with pins, pronouncing at the same time cabalistic words, in order, as they believed, to cause the death of their enemies.
Religious ceremonies were made use of to rouse the vilest and most sanguinary passions. The sermons of priests connected with the League, like torches, inflamed the whole kingdom. Processions were projected to excite the ferocity of the populace, and frequently presented spectacles of indecency and impiety. At Chartres, after the day of the barricades, a Capuchin represented before Henry III. the Saviour ascending Calvary. He had painted drops of blood, that appeared to ooze from his head, which was crowned with thorns; he seemed to drag along with difficulty a cross of painted cardboard, and fell down at intervals, uttering piercing cries. At Paris, after the assassination of the duke of Guise, men, women, and young girls, covered only with a chemise or sheet, formed night-processions; and in the midst of sacred songs gave themselves up to Saturnalia, worthy of the pagan world in its most vicious days.
The soldiers of the League, who bore arms which had been blessed by the priests, committed acts of infamy, even on the steps of altars. The atrocities perpetrated in the churches of Saint-Symphorien, in that of D’Arquenay, and in a crowd of others, cannot be related.
Religion of the king, religion of the court, religion of the clergy, religion of the people and of the soldiers,—what wretched mockery was it all! Manners were on the same level; the cardinal of Lorraine, and the greater part of the prelates, impudently violated all the laws of chastity. The Balafré was leaving a night debauch when he was assassinated. Margaret of Valois, the princess of Condé, the duchesses of Nemours, of Guise, of Montpensier, of Nevers, led a life of the foulest immorality. Two of them having caused the heads of their lovers to be cut off, kissed and embalmed them, and each kept that of her own lover among her love-tokens. It is well known in what manner the duchess of Montpensier, sister of Henry of Guise, nerved the arm of Jacques Clément.
Everywhere there was a hideous admixture of blood and superstition. The great nobles employed hired assassins and duellists, who killed each other as a pastime, without remorse or pity; every day two were pitted against two, four against four, a hundred against a hundred; and the address of an assassin or poisoner could then be as easily procured as that of an hotel-keeper in the present day.
As a last instance, the assassin, the regicide, Jacques Clément, was canonized from all the pulpits as “the most blessed child of Dominique, the holy martyr of Jesus Christ.” His portrait was placed on the altars with these words: “Saint Jacques Clément, pray for us.” When his mother came to Paris, the nuns addressed her in the language of the Evangelist: “Blessed is the womb that bare thee, and the paps which thou hast sucked.” And Pope Sixtus V., more infamous still, declared in full consistory, that the action of the martyr Jacques Clément might be compared, as regarded the safety of the world, to the incarnation and resurrection of Jesus Christ.[73]
A church that has uttered such blasphemies by the mouth of its chief, should for ever seek pardon both from God and man. It should moreover bless that principle of tolerance, which has imposed upon it both the Reformation and philosophy; for it is this alone, which prevents its relapse into the degraded condition of former times.