Richelieu, as intelligent a man as ever ruled a country, recognized this. After a long struggle he deprived the Protestants of their political power, but although a cardinal by profession, he scrupulously refrained from any interference with their religious freedom. The Huguenots could no longer conduct independent diplomatic negotiations with the enemies of their own country, but otherwise they enjoyed the same privileges as before and could sing psalms and listen to sermons or not as pleased them.
Mazarin, the next man to rule France in the real sense of the word, had followed a similar policy. But he died in the year 1661. Then young Louis XIV personally undertook to rule his domains, and there was an end to the era of good will.
It seems most unfortunate that when this brilliant if disreputable Majesty was forced for once in his life into the companionship of decent people he should have fallen into the clutches of a good woman who was also a religious fanatic. Françoise d’Aubigné, the widow of a literary hack by the name of Scarron, had begun her career at the French court as governess to the seven illegitimate children of Louis XIV and the Marquise de Montespan. When that lady’s love philtres ceased to have the desired effect and the King began to show occasional signs of boredom, it was the governess who stepped into her shoes. Only she was different from all her predecessors. Before she agreed to move into His Majesty’s apartments, the Archbishop of Paris had duly solemnized her marriage to the descendant of Saint Louis.
During the next twenty years the power behind the throne was therefore in the hands of a woman who was completely dominated by her confessor. The clergy of France had never forgiven either Richelieu or Mazarin for their conciliatory attitude towards the Protestants. Now at last they had a chance to undo the work of these shrewd statesmen and they went to it with a will. For not only were they the official advisers of the Queen, but they also became the bankers of the King.
That again is a curious story.
During the last eight centuries the monasteries had accumulated the greater part of the wealth of France and as they paid no taxes in a country which suffered perpetually from a depleted treasury, their surplus wealth was of great importance. And His Majesty, whose glory was greater than his credit, made a grateful use of this opportunity to replenish his own coffers and in exchange for certain favors extended to his clerical supporters he was allowed to borrow as much money as he wanted.
In this way the different stipulations of the “irrevocable” Edict of Nantes were one by one revoked. At first the Protestant religion was not actually forbidden, but life for those who remained faithful to the Huguenot cause was made exasperatingly uncomfortable. Whole regiments of dragoons were turned loose upon those provinces where the false doctrines were supposed to be most strongly entrenched. The soldiers were billeted among the inhabitants with instructions to make themselves thoroughly detestable. They ate the food and drank the wine and stole the forks and spoons and broke the furniture and insulted the wives and daughters of perfectly harmless citizens and generally behaved as if they were in a conquered territory. When their poor hosts, in their despair, rushed to the courts for some form of redress and protection, they were laughed at for their trouble and were told that they had brought their misfortunes upon their own heads and knew perfectly well how they could get rid of their unwelcome guests and at the same time regain the good will of the government.
A few, a very few, followed this suggestion and allowed themselves to be baptized by the nearest village priest. But the vast majority of these simple people remained faithful to the ideals of their childhood. At last, however, when one after another their churches were closed and their clergy were sent to the galleys, they began to understand that they were doomed. Rather than surrender, they decided to go into exile. But when they reached the frontier, they were told that no one was allowed to leave the country, that those who were caught in the act were to be hanged, and that those who aided and abetted such fugitives were liable to be sent to the galleys for life.
There are apparently certain things which this world will never learn.
From the days of the Pharaohs to those of Lenin, all governments at one time or another have tried the policy of “closing the frontier” and none of them has ever been able to score a success.