Remorse for the massacre of St Bartholomew had deprived Charles IX. of his reason, and brought him to an early grave. His brother, Henry III., who succeeded him, either awed by the fate of Charles, or occupied only with his pleasures, allowed those same Protestants whom, as Duke of Anjou, he had defeated at Moncontour and other places, to live in peace. Henry’s indolence favoured the ambitious views of the Duke of Guise, who aspired at nothing less than the throne of France. He and his partisans, particularly the Jesuits, stirred up the fanaticism of the more bigoted of the citizens against the king, who, although a scrupulous observer of all those external practices in which the Popish religion chiefly consists, was considered by the Church party a bad Catholic. A remedy was to be found, lest France should become a Protestant country. An association was accordingly set on foot, which took the name of the League, or “Holy Union.” The vulgar saw in it the bulwark of the faith—Philip of Spain, indirectly the sovereignty of France—and Henry of Guise, the throne. The members of this association took the following oath:—“I swear to God, the Creator, and under penalty of anathema and eternal damnation, that I have entered into this Catholic Association, according to the form of the treaty which has just been read to me, loyally and sincerely either to command, or to obey and serve; and I promise with my life and my honour, to continue therein to the last drop of my blood, without resisting it or withdrawing from it, at any command, or any pretext, excuse, or occasion whatsoever.”[166] In 1577, Guise was declared chief of the League; and in 1584, he, a subject, had the audacity to enter publicly into a confederacy with Philip II. of Spain. The Articles of Alliance purported, “that a confederacy, offensive and defensive, was entered into betwixt the king and the Catholic princes in behalf of themselves and their descendants, for the maintenance of the Roman Catholic religion in France as well as the Low Countries: and, on the death of Henry III., to take measures that Cardinal de Bourbon should be appointed his successor; the heretic and relapsed princes being for ever excluded from the right of succession.”[167]
Henry III.’s position became very precarious. The Guises were in possession of many of the chief towns, and Duke Henry was the idol of the people. The king, to avoid the impending danger, feigned to adhere to the League—declared himself its chief—waged war with the Protestants—and consented to give more towns and places of security into the hands of his enemies. Nevertheless the king’s opponents remitted nothing of their hostility, and filled the nation with hatred of his person, venting itself in curses and imprecations. In Paris, the stronghold of the League, the question was publicly discussed whether Henry should be deposed. The king advanced towards the capital with some troops. Guise hastened to it against the king’s express command. The people took up arms—barricades were erected—the royal army was defeated—and the king obliged to fly.[168] Maffei and Crétineau reproach the Duke of Guise for allowing him to escape uninjured. Henry, concealing his hatred, feigned again to submit, summoned a parliament to meet at Blois, and conferred upon Guise almost unlimited power over the kingdom. But in the very moment in which he saw within his grasp the prize which he so eagerly sought, he fell, along with his brother the cardinal, in the royal palace, a victim of the king’s revenge. Thus Guise perished, not, as he deserved, by the sword of justice, but by the poniard of an assassin. The deed cannot be excused. The League thundered anathemas against the king; the University of Paris excommunicated him; and the parliament declared that “the aforesaid Henry of Valois should be condemned to make honourable amends, dressed only in his shirt, with a rope about his neck, assisted by the executioner, and holding in his hand a lighted torch weighing thirty pounds; that from that moment he should be deposed, and declared unworthy of the crown of France; and that, renouncing all right to it, he should be afterwards banished and placed in a convent of the Hieromites, there to fast on bread and water for the rest of his days.”[169]
Priests and Jesuits from every pulpit poured out volleys of curses upon that tyrant, who deserved to be swept from the face of the earth. And while the king, now in league with Henry of Navarre, was marching towards Paris, Clement, a Dominican friar, stabbed him at St Cloud, on the first of August 1589.
Great was the consternation of the royalists, and greater the rejoicing of the adverse party, at this tragic event. The Council of Seize[170] met on the 6th of September, and addressed a letter to all the preachers, in which, among other things, was the following exhortation:—“You must justify Jacques Clement’s deed, because it is the same as that of Judith, which is so much commended in Holy Writ.”[171] Henry of Bourbon, king of Navarre, the legitimate heir, after the death of Henry III., assumed the title of king of France, and was supported by the less bigoted of the Roman Catholics and by all the Calvinists. The Cardinal de Bourbon, on the other hand, also took the title of king, and was supported by the fanatic Papists, headed by all the priests and monks in the kingdom. Philip of Spain, the life and guardian of the League, sent an army to its aid; and the Pope despatched Cardinal Cajetan, accompanied by two Jesuits, with large sums of money, to foment and maintain the revolt against the excommunicated Henry IV.
Sixtus V. at first shewed great zeal in opposing the right of the heretic Henry of Navarre.[172] He promised to send 18,000 infantry and 700 horse into France. He threatened the Venetians with excommunication for having acknowledged Henry IV. as king, and for once relaxed the reins of his well-known parsimony, by sending his legate a sum of money to continue the war in France. But, when he perceived what were the projects of Philip; when he learned that that monarch proposed to marry his daughter the Infanta to the young Duke of Guise, who was to assume the title of king; and when Les Seize, instigated by the Jesuits, renouncing every national feeling, went so far as to proclaim Philip king of France, Sixtus, afraid of the domineering spirit of Philip, and the absolute power he would acquire if successful in his design, relaxed in his enmity towards Henry—expressed regret for having excommunicated him—and gave other tokens of the change his opinion had undergone. The legate, however, disregarding the Pope’s intentions, carried out his first instructions with unremitting zeal.[173]
The civil war, with all its horrors, lasted for five years. To shorten it, Henry descended to an act which has tarnished his glory, and the fame of his virtue. He abjured the doctrines of Calvinism to enter into communion with the Church of Rome, which he despised, and excused himself by saying, “Paris vaut bien une messe”—Paris is well worth a mass.[174]
But his apostasy availed him little. The Parisians continued firm against him. The monks, and especially the Jesuits, encouraged them in their resistance. Priests and soldiers simultaneously, they passed from the pulpit to the besieged walls, replacing the sacerdotal robes by a coat of mail, the crucifix by a spear. Solemn processions crossed the town and called upon the people to be firm in defence of their faith, trusting in God to protect them and to bless their impious enterprise. The Pope’s legate, dressed in his pontifical robes, was foremost in these processions, and supported the fanaticism of the multitude, to whom he dispensed a thousand benisons. On the other hand, Mendoza, the Spanish ambassador, the same who, after the assassination of Henry, wrote to his master, “We must ascribe this happy event to the Almighty alone”—Mendoza, to divert the hunger of the deluded Parisians, distributed, in the name of his Most Catholic Majesty Philip, some Spanish coin to the populace, who, thus encouraged, raised the shout, “Long life to our king Philip!” It is painful to think of all the horrors which this misguided people endured while they listened to the persuasions of the priests to persist in their rebellion. At last hunger, all-powerful hunger, proved stronger than the king’s army. Famished Paris yielded, and Henry ascended the throne of his ancestors.
Thus ended the League. Let us now see what share the Jesuits had in it. Mezarai, speaking of the League, says, “The zealous Catholics were the chief instruments in it; the new monks (the Jesuits) the paranymphs and trumpeters; and the nobles of the kingdom the authors and chiefs.”[176] From its very beginning, the Jesuits were the most ardent promoters of the League. They ran from place to place, from country to country, to enlist new supporters, and to strengthen the tie of the holy union. Claude Matthieu, the Provincial, went several times from Paris to Rome, to obtain the Pope’s approval of the holy union.[177] He was called the messenger of the League; and Pasquier, in his old, quaint style, in speaking of another Jesuit, says, “As the Company of the Jesuits was composed of all sorts of people, les uns pour la plume, les autres pour le poil, so they had among them one Father Henry Sammier, a man inclined and adapted to all kinds of daring.[178] He was sent by the League in 1581 to various Catholic princes pour sonder le gué, to sound the ford; and, to speak the truth, they could not have chosen a fitter man, for he changed himself into as many different forms as the different affairs he had to undertake—sometimes dressed as a trooper, sometimes as a priest, sometimes as a simple beggar. He was acquainted with cards, dice, ... as well as with his canonical hours; and in doing this, he said that he could not sin, since it was to arrive at a good end.”[179] But, without referring to ancient authors, two lines from Crétineau will say more than we could. “It was at this epoch” (1584), says he, “that the League acquired all its consistency, and it is at the same epoch that you may see the Jesuits in Paris, Lyons, Toulouse, joining the insurrection and organising it.”[180] And of this insurrection, or civil war, Pasquier, an eye-witness, says,—“It was less a civil war than a coupe-gorge—a cut-throat. The colleges of the Jesuits were, as was notorious, the general rendezvous of persons hostile to the king. There were fabricated their gospels in cipher—se forgoient leurs Evangiles en chiffre—which they sent into foreign countries. There their apostles were distributed among the different provinces, some, to keep the troubles alive by their preaching, as did Father Commolet in Paris, and Father Rouillet at Bourges; others, to preach murder and assassination, as did Father Varade and the same Father Commolet.”[181] But we need not multiply quotations to prove that they had a great share in exciting these troubles. They themselves confess it with pride. In their Litteræ Annuæ of 1589, they represent the murder of the king as a miracle which happened the very day they were expelled from Bordeaux. When Clement’s mother came to Paris, the Jesuits called upon the people to worship her; the portrait of the assassin, now called a martyr, was exposed on the altars to public veneration, and they even proposed to erect a statue to him in the cathedral of Notre Dame.
We will, however, admit that all the Jesuits were not fanatic Leaguers; not because they disapproved of the League, but simply from good policy, or from interested motives. Auger, the king’s confessor, and who wished to be provincial, sided with his penitent; and the General Acquaviva, the ablest and most profound politician of his time, disapproved of the Society’s engaging so deeply with one party as to cause the ruin of the order if the other triumphed. He forbade the Jesuits who were in France to take part in the contest (which advice, however, they disregarded), and begged permission of the Pope to command his subordinate Father Matthieu to leave France, and betake himself to a distant country—which clearly proves, that the Jesuits in France acted under the Pope’s own authority. “But Sixtus V.,” says Crétineau, “was not so gentle as Gregory XIII.; when he met an enemy, he fought with him; accordingly he answered the General that the Leaguers acted very rightly, and only did their duty.”[182] Acquaviva, however, was as jealous of his authority as the imperious and terrible Sixtus. When Father Matthieu arrived at Loretto on his return to France, the General ordered him not to leave the town without his consent; and the poor messenger died a few months after, from sheer inactivity. Auger, for reasons unknown to us, was recalled. Another provincial, Father Pigenat, was sent to France—a man who, in the language of De Thou, “was a furious Leaguer, and as fanatic as a Corybante,” and who, according to Arnauld, “was the most cruel tiger that prowled through Paris.” In fact, after his arrival, the Jesuits became still more audacious, and engaged in more criminal proceedings.
After Henry IV. had abjured the Protestant faith, and when he was at Melun, a man was arrested on suspicion of having come thither to make an attempt upon his life. Barrière—such was the assassin’s name—to escape the torture, acknowledged his guilt. He confessed that having consulted with Aubrey, a curate of Paris, regarding his project, he was highly commended, and sent to Varade, the rector of the Jesuits, who confirmed him in his praiseworthy resolution, and gave him his benediction; that next morning he confessed to another Jesuit, and received the communion. Barrière repeated on the scaffold the declaration he had already made; and Pasquier, who was at Melun at the time, declares that he had examined the culprit, had read the informations and depositions, and even handled the knife with which the crime was to have been perpetrated.[183] Mezarai confirms the testimony of Pasquier in the most unequivocal manner. “When the king,” says he, “had reduced Paris to submission, he gave a safe-conduct to the Cardinal of Plaisance, who had acted with so much energy against him, and granted him permission to take with him Aubrey, curate of St André des Arcs, and the Jesuit Varade, although culpable of participating in the horrible assassination of Barrière.”[184]