After traversing Alsace, Henry and his suite presented themselves, unwelcome guests, at Heidelberg, capital of the palatinate. The Elector, Frederick the Third, and his subjects were, perhaps, equally displeased at the arrival of the prime mover in the Massacre of St. Bartholomew's Day. But, while the people felt some freedom in the expression of their disgust, motives of state policy prevented their prince from openly displaying his antipathy. However, he neither could nor would conceal the lively remembrance in which the events of August, 1572, were still held by him. It was on Friday, the eleventh of December, that the French party, under the escort of a large body of soldiers sent out to do them honor, ascended to the castle, then as now occupying a commanding site overlooking the valley of the Neckar.[1340] The King of Poland was somewhat surprised when, on entering the portal, instead of the elector, the rhinegrave, with two French refugees escaped from the massacre, came to escort him to the rooms prepared for his reception. Frederick had directed the rhinegrave to request Henry to excuse this apparent discourtesy on the ground of his feeble health. It is more probable that the true motive was the elector's desire to avoid incurring, by too great complaisance, the displeasure of the emperor, who was naturally much irritated at the success of the French intrigues in Poland. When, later, Frederick made his tardy appearance, it was only to greet Anjou in a brief address, reserving for the morrow their more extended conference. On Saturday the elector politely conducted his guest through his extensive picture gallery. Pausing before one painting the face of which was protected from sight, he ordered an attendant to draw aside the curtain. To his astonishment, Henry found himself confronted with a life-like portrait of Gaspard de Coligny. To the question, "Does your Royal Highness recognize the subject?" Henry replied with sufficient composure: "I do; it is the late Admiral of France." "Yes," rejoined Frederick, "it is the admiral—a man whom I have found, of all the French nobles, the most zealous for the glory of the French name; and I am not afraid to assert that in him the king and all France have sustained an irreparable loss." Elsewhere Henry's attention was directed to a large painting representing the very scenes of the massacre, and he was asked whether he could distinguish any of the victims. Nor did Frederick confine himself to these casual references. In pointed terms he exposed to the young Valois both the sin and the mistaken policy of the events of a twelvemonth since. The slaughter of the admiral and of so many other innocent men and women had not only provoked the Divine retribution, but had diminished not a little the reputation and influence of the French with all orders of persons in Germany.[1341] Henry listened with commendable patience to the old elector's denunciations, alleging by way of excuse that the French court had been under the influence of the passions then running high, and readily promised great caution and tolerance in future.[1342] He did, indeed, strike on his breast and begged Frederick to believe him that things had occurred otherwise than had been reported. But his auditor dryly remarked that he was fully informed of what had taken place in France.[1343] As the elector also took occasion to remind Anjou of sundry miserable deaths of notorious persecutors, such as Herod the Great, Herod Agrippa, and Maxentius; as he openly ridiculed the absurd suggestion that Coligny, a wounded man, with both arms disabled in consequence of Maurevel's shot, planned on his bed an attack on the king; and as, furthermore, he plainly denounced the shocking immorality of Catharine de' Medici's court ladies—it must be confessed that Frederick the Pious, on the present occasion, made more of a virtue of frankness than of diplomacy.[1344]
On Sunday the French left Heidelberg, with little regret on their own part or on that of their hosts. Not to speak of their treatment by the elector, which even the historian De Thou regarded as scarcely comporting with the dignity with which Henry was invested,[1345] the followers of the Polish king met with frequent insults, both in coming and in going. One of them relates how he heard cries of "Those dogs from Lorraine! Those Italian traitors!" And a German eye-witness of the scenes expresses it as his opinion that the French nobles would not have been safe had they not been escorted by the palatine troops. The sight of "that notable cut-throat, the Duke of Nevers," of the Marshal de Retz, of Captain Du Gast, and "very many others of that band of villains who so cruelly butchered the admiral and other nobles in Paris," provoked the populace almost beyond endurance. The very diamonds and jewels presented by Henry on his departure, to the elector and to the ladies of his court, aroused the popular indignation; for they were known, as we have already seen, to have constituted a part of the plunder of a certain rich Huguenot jeweller, whose shop had been robbed at the time of the Parisian matins.[1346] There were not wanting those who would even have counselled the worthy elector to follow the course indicated by the Spanish grandee, who informed Charles the Fifth that he intended to burn his castle to the ground so soon as the traitorous Constable de Bourbon had relieved it of his polluting presence.[1347]
Last days of Chancellor de l'Hospital.
Meantime, within the borders of France all was ferment and disquiet. The Roman Catholic element, comprising the overwhelming majority of the people, had become split into two factions, both animated by inextinguishable hatred, and each resolved to compass the destruction of the other. Of conciliatory measures there was a dearth. Among the men of wide influence there was no one to take the place of the virtuous Michel de l'Hospital. That truly great statesman had died nine months before (on the thirteenth of March, 1573). The storm of war at that moment raging about La Rochelle was a fit expression of the utter failure of the aged chancellor's policy. For a dozen years there had not been a candid and sincere effort made to restore tranquillity to France which had not either originated with him or received his cordial support. But of the sanguine hopes of ultimate success entertained in the earlier stages of his political career, he retained little toward its close. The last years of his presence at court witnessed an uninterrupted struggle between the chancellor and that family of Guise which he had come to regard as the prime cause of the misery afflicting the kingdom. More than once the latent personal hostility had broken out in an open quarrel between L'Hospital and the Cardinal of Lorraine. Two or three exciting scenes of recrimination, which the tact of Catharine de' Medici was scarcely able to allay, have met us in this history. At length, when the third civil war burst forth, L'Hospital, seeing himself altogether powerless to resist the more violent counsels then in the ascendant, had received permission to retire from the royal court to his estate in the vicinity of Étampes.[1348] It was none the less an exile that it wore the appearance of a voluntary withdrawal. Birague discharged the real functions of the chancellor's office. Finally, after barely escaping a violent death in the Massacre of St. Bartholomew's Day, the chancellor received, in January, 1573, the formal order to give up the guardianship of the seals, which for more than four years had been only nominally under his control. His touching reply to the royal summons is the last production of the chancellor's pen that has come down to us. Interposing no obstacle to the execution of the king's will, the writer invoked the testimony of the queen mother that, in all things pertaining to the royal interests, "he had been forgetful rather of his own advantage than of the king's service, and had always followed the great royal road, turning neither to the right hand nor to the left, and giving himself to no private faction." "And now," he added, "that my maladies and my age have rendered me useless to do you service, just as you have seen the old galleys in the port of Marseilles, which, though dismantled, are yet regarded with pleasure, so I very humbly beg you to view me both in my present state and my past, which shall be an instruction and an example to all your subjects to do you good service. God give you grace to choose servants and counsellors more competent than I have been, and as affectionate and devoted to your service as I am." The closing words were characteristic of the life-long advocate of toleration: a recommendation of gentleness and clemency, in imitation of a long-suffering and pardoning God.[1349] Two months later Michel de l'Hospital ended his eventful life. France could ill afford to lose at this juncture a magistrate[1350] so upright—a statesman who "had the lilies of France in his heart."[1351]
The party of the "Politiques."
Hotman's Franco-Gallia.
Since the siege of La Rochelle, or more properly since the day of the massacre, a new party had been forming, of those who could not bring themselves to approve the cruel acts of the court, or who, for any reason, were jealous of the faction now in power. As opposed to the Italian counsellors by whom the queen mother had surrounded the throne, it was pre-eminently a French or patriotic party. It demanded the expulsion of Florentines and of Lorrainers from the kingdom, or at least from the management of public affairs. The "Malcontents," or "Politiques," as they now began to be called,[1352] demanded a return to the former usages of the kingdom, in accordance with which the most important decisions were never made without consulting the States General. Two books appearing about this time made a deep impression. In an anonymous treatise entitled "Franco-Gallia," the authorship of which was speedily traced to the eminent jurist Francis Hotman, attention was drawn to the original constitution of the kingdom; and the writer showed by irrefragable proofs that the regal dignity was not hereditary like a private possession, but was a gift of the people, which they could as lawfully transfer from one to another, as originally confer. The participation of women in the administration of the government was declared to be abhorrent to the ideas of the founders of the French monarchy.[1353] In another work appearing not long after, the principle was enunciated that an unbounded obedience is due to the Almighty alone, while obedience to human magistrates is in its very nature subject to limitations and exceptions. The supreme authority of kings and other high magistrates was explained to be of such a nature "that if they violate the laws, to the observance of which they have bound themselves by oath, and become manifest tyrants, giving no room for better counsels, then it is lawful for the inferior magistrates to make provision both for themselves and for those committed to their charge, and oppose the tyrant."[1354] The circumstance is not without significance that in a Huguenot work, published early in the succeeding year, the guilty king who authorized the butchery of his innocent subjects on St. Bartholomew's Day, is for the first time distinctly designated as the "tyrant."[1355]
Treacherous attempt on La Rochelle.
The lesson that no trust could be reposed in Charles and his court was one which the world had learned pretty thoroughly before this; and the events at La Rochelle during the month of December, 1573, were well calculated to prevent it from being forgotten. The definite peace, made five months before, guaranteed the safety of the Protestants, and secured to them the free exercise of their religious rights. None the less was a project set on foot to introduce a royal garrison into the city by treachery. M. de Biron and other captains had been unable to conceal their disgust at the abandonment of the siege of La Rochelle, when, as they pretended, it must very shortly have fallen into the king's hands, and Biron had been soundly berated by Anjou for his pains. He had not, however, given up the notion of making himself master of the Huguenot stronghold, and there were others in the royal army intent upon the same end. A scheme to smuggle soldiers through the gates, in wagons covered with branches of trees, was so freely talked of that it reached the citizens' ears, and only augmented their suspicions. A more serious plot was set on foot, in accordance with which one Jacques du Lyon, Seigneur de Grandfief, prominent in the late defence of La Rochelle, was to gain possession of one of the city gates, and admit Puigaillard, who, for this purpose, had massed considerable numbers of royal soldiers at Nuaillé, on the east, and at Saint-Vivien, on the south of La Rochelle. Happily the treacherous design was itself betrayed by an accomplice. Grandfief was killed while defending himself against those who had been sent to arrest him. Several of the supposed leaders[1356] were condemned to be broken on the wheel, and the barbarous sentence was executed. The papers discovered in the house of Grandfief clearly proved that the plot had received the full approval not only of Biron, but of the queen mother herself. After inflicting summary vengeance on the miserable instruments of perfidy, the Rochellois, therefore, addressed their complaints to the French court. It need not surprise us, however, to learn that they received in reply letters from Charles not only disowning the conspiracy, but assuring them that he heartily detested it, and approved the rigorous measures adopted.[1357]
The Huguenots reassemble at Milhau.