And these intrigues were not fruitless. Anjou now declared to his mother that he would not go to England without public assurances that he should enjoy the liberty to exercise his own religion. He was unwilling even to trust the queen's word, as Catharine and Charles would have wished him to do. Catharine meantime expressed her vexation in her despatches to La Mothe Fénélon.[832] "We strongly suspect," she said, "that Villequier, Lignerolles, or Sarret, or possibly all three, may be the authors of these fancies. If we succeed in obtaining some certainty respecting this matter, I assure you that they will repent of it."[833] But she added that, should the negotiation unfortunately fail, she was resolved to put forth all her efforts in behalf of her son Alençon, who would be more easily suited.[834]
In fact, while Anjou was indifferent, or perhaps disgusted at the obstacles raised in the way of the marriage, and was unwilling to sacrifice his attachment to the party in connection with which he had obtained whatever distinction he possessed; and while Elizabeth, who was by no means blind, saw clearly enough that she was likely to get a husband who would regard his bride rather as an incumbrance than as an acquisition,[835] there were two persons who were as eager as Elizabeth's advisers, or the Huguenots themselves, to see the match effected. These were Charles the Ninth and Catharine de' Medici, both of whom just now gave abundant evidence of their disposition to draw closer to England and to the Huguenots of France and the Gueux of Holland, while suffering the breach between France and Spain to become more marked.
Louis of Nassau confers with the king.
Count Louis of Nassau, ever since the conclusion of peace, had remained with the Huguenots within the walls of La Rochelle. At the repeated solicitations of his brother, the Prince of Orange, he had entered into correspondence with the king, and urged him to embrace an opportunity such as might never return, to endear himself to the Netherlanders, and add materially to the extent and power of France by espousing the cause of constitutional rights. His advances were so favorably received that he now came in disguise, accompanied by La Noue, Téligny, and Genlis, to confer with Charles upon the subject. They met at Lumigny-en-Brie, whither the king had gone to indulge in his favorite pastime of the chase, and on several consecutive days held secret conferences.[836] Louis was a nobleman whose history and connections entitled him to respect; but his frank and sincere character was a still more powerful advocate in his behalf.[837] He proved to the king how justly he might interfere in defence of the Low Countries, where Philip was seeking "to plant, by inquisition, the foundation of a most horrible tyranny, the overthrow of all freedoms and liberties." He traced the course of events since the humiliating treaty of Cateau-Cambrésis, and added: "If you think in conscience and honor you may not become the protector of this people, you should do well to forbear, for otherwise the success cannot be gained. If you think you may, then weigh in policy how beneficial it will be for you, and how much your father would have given, to have had the like opportunity offered unto him that is now presented unto you gratis; which, if you refuse, the like you must never look for."
Both Charles and his mother appeared well pleased with the proposal, and the king, who had listened attentively to the recital of the follies into which Philip had fallen in consequence of listening to evil advice, exclaimed: "Similar counsellors, by violating my edict, wellnigh brought me into like terms with my subjects, wherefrom ensued the late troubles; but now, thank God, He has opened my eyes to discern what their meaning was." Next, Louis showed that success was not difficult. The Roman Catholics and the Protestants in the Netherlands equally detested the tyranny of the Spaniards. The towns were ready to receive garrisons. Philip had not in the whole country over three thousand troops upon whose fidelity he could rely. The addition of a dozen ships to those already possessed by the patriots would enable them effectually to prevent the landing of Spanish reinforcements. In short, the Netherlands were ripe for a division which would amply recompense France and the German princes, as well as Queen Elizabeth, should she, as was hoped, consent to take part in the enterprise: for the provinces of Flanders and Artois, which had once belonged to the French crown, would gladly give themselves up to Charles; Brabant, Gelderland, and Luxemburg would be restored to the empire; and Holland, Zealand, and the rest of the islands would fall to the share of the queen.[838]
Admiral Coligny consulted.
He marries Jacqueline d'Entremont.
So favorably did Charles and his mother, with those counsellors to whom the secret was intrusted, receive the count's advances, that it was clearly advisable to bring them into communication with Admiral Coligny, to whose conduct the enterprise, if adopted, must be confided, and for whom the young king expressed great esteem. Indeed, so urgently was the admiral invited, and so intimately did the success or failure of the attempt to enlist France in the Flemish war seem to be dependent upon his personal influence, that Gaspard de Coligny, despite the ill-concealed solicitude of many of his more suspicious friends, consented to trust himself in the king's hands. As for himself, the admiral had little desire to leave the secure retreat of La Rochelle. Here he was surrounded by friends. Here his happiness had been enhanced by two marriages which promised to add greatly to the wealth and influence he already possessed. Jacqueline d'Entremont, the widow of a brave officer killed in the civil wars, had long entertained an admiration, which she made no attempt to disguise, for the bravery and piety of the stern leader of the Huguenots. Possessed of very extensive estates in the dominions of the Duke of Savoy, she had also the qualities of mind and disposition which fitted her to become the wife of so upright and magnanimous a man. The proposals of marriage are said to have come from her relatives, nor did the lady herself hesitate to express the wish before her death to become the Marcia of the new Cato.[839] The nuptials were celebrated with great pomp at La Rochelle, whither Jacqueline, after having been married by proxy,[840] was escorted by a goodly train of Huguenot nobles. Great were the rejoicings of the people, but not less great the anger of the Duke of Savoy, who, as Jacqueline's feudal lord, claimed the right to dispose of her hand, and had peremptorily forbidden her to marry the admiral. The barbarous revenge which Emmanuel Philibert too soon found it in his power to inflict upon the unfortunate widow of Coligny forms the subject for one of the darkest pages of modern history.[841] Under no less auspicious circumstances was consummated the union of Coligny's daughter, Louise de Châtillon, to Téligny, a young noble whose skill as a diplomatist seemed to have destined him to hold a foremost rank among statesmen. Scarcely less unhappy, however, than her step-mother, Louise was to behold both her father and her husband perish in a single hour by the same dreadful catastrophe.
Accepts the invitation to court.
Was it foolish rashness or overweening presumption that led the admiral to leave the new home he had made within the strong defences of La Rochelle; or was he moved solely by a conscientious persuasion that he had no right to consider personal danger when the great interests of his country and his faith were at stake? The former view has not been without its advocates, some of whom have gloried in finding the proofs of a judicial blindness sent by Heaven to hasten the self-induced destruction of the Huguenots. A more careful consideration of all the circumstances of the case, illustrated by a better appreciation of Coligny's character, rather induces me to adopt the opposite conclusion. Certainly the noble language of Coligny in reply to the warnings of his friends, both now and later, when he was about to venture within the walls of Paris, displayed no unconsciousness of the perils by which he was environed. "Better, however, were it," he said, "to die a thousand deaths, than by undue solicitude for life to be the occasion of keeping up distrust throughout an entire kingdom."