How far was the Roman Church responsible?
Before dismissing the consideration of the stupendous crime for which Divine vengeance—to use the words of Sully—"made France atone by twenty-six consecutive years of disaster, carnage, and horror,"[1232] it is at once interesting and important to glance at a historical question which still agitates the world, and for a correct and impartial solution of which we are, perhaps, more favorably situated than were even the contemporaries of the event. I allude to the inquiry respecting the extent to which the Roman Church, and the Pope in particular, must be held responsible for the Massacre of St. Bartholomew's Day.
So far as Queen Catharine was concerned (and the same is true of some of her advisers), it is admitted by all that no zeal for religion controlled her conduct. A dissolute and ambitious woman, and, moreover, almost an avowed atheist, she could not have acted from a sincere but mistaken belief that it was her duty to exterminate heresy. But among the inferior agents it can scarcely be doubted that there were some who believed themselves to be doing God service in ridding the world of the enemies of His church. Had not the preachers in their sermons extolled the deed as the most meritorious that could be performed, and as furnishing an unquestionable passport to paradise? The number, however, of these religious assassins—if so we may style them—could be but small in comparison with the multitude of those to whom religion served merely as a pretext, while cupidity or partisan hatred was the true motive; men who, nevertheless, derived their incentive from the lessons of their spiritual guides, and who would never have dreamed of giving loose rein to their passions, but for the suggestions of these sanguinary teachers. At the bar of history the priesthood that countenanced assassination must be held no less accountable for the actions of this class than for the deeds of more sincere devotees.
It is immaterial to the question of the responsibility of the Papal Church, whether the queen mother and the king's ministers were honest, or were Roman Catholics, or, indeed, Christians only in name. If the Pope had for years, by letter and by his accredited agents, been insinuating that the life of a heretic was a thing of little value; if he systematically advocated a war of extermination, and opposed every negotiation for peace, every truce, every edict of pacification that did not look to the annihilation of the Huguenots; if he had familiarized the minds of king and queen with the thought of justifiable massacre, it is of little importance to ascertain whether his too ready pupils executed the injunction from a pure desire to further the interests of the Papal See, or with more selfish designs. Unfortunately for humanity and for religion, the course I have indicated was that which had been consistently and indefatigably pursued during the entire pontificate of Pius the Fifth, and during the few months that had elapsed since the election of his successor.
Gregory probably not aware of the intended massacre.
Contrary to the firm persuasion of the Protestants who wrote contemporary accounts of the massacre, we must in all probability, as we have already seen,[1233] acquit Gregory the Thirteenth of any knowledge of the disaster impending over the admiral and the Huguenots. It was what he wished for and prayed for, but with little hope of seeing the accomplishment. In fact, he was brought to the verge of despair in respect to the hold of the papacy upon the kingdom of France. Nuncio Salviati, at Paris, had, indeed, conceived the hope that some disaster would befall the Huguenots in consequence of Coligny's imprudence and the desperation of the queen mother and of the Roman Catholic party at finding the authority slipping from their hands. But his astonishment and that of the pontiff at the general massacre of the Protestants was surpassed only by their common delight. The fragments of the despatches from Salviati to the Roman secretary of state, which have been suffered to find their way into print, seem to settle this point beyond all controversy.
Pius the Fifth instigates the French court.
He indorses the cruelties of Alva.
We have in previous chapters seen the Pope assisting Charles with money and troops in the prosecution of the last two wars against the Huguenots. But this aid was accompanied with perpetual exhortations to do the work thoroughly, and not to repeat the mistakes committed by his predecessors. "That heresy cannot be tolerated in the same kingdom with the worship of the Catholic religion," writes Pius the Fifth to Sigismund Augustus of Poland, "is proved by that very example of the kingdom of France, which your Majesty brings up for the purpose of excusing yourself. If the former kings of France had not suffered this evil to grow by neglect and indulgence, they would easily have been able to extirpate heresy and secure the peace and quiet of their realm."[1234] Of all the leaders of the day, the Duke of Alva alone earned, by his unrelenting destruction of heretics, the unqualified approval of the pontiff. When the tidings of the successes of the "Blood Council" reached Rome, Pius could not contain himself for joy. He must congratulate the duke, and spur him on in a course upon which the blessing of Heaven so manifestly rested. "Nothing can occur to us," said he, "more glorious for the dignity of the Church, or more delightful to the truly paternal disposition of our mind to all men, than when we perceive that warriors and very brave generals, such as we previously knew you to be and now find you in this most perilous war, consult not their own interest, nor their own glory alone, but war in behalf of that Almighty God who stands ready to crown His soldiers contending for Him and His glory, not with a corruptible crown, but with one that is eternal and fadeth not away."[1235]
He repeatedly counsels exterminating the Huguenots.