History of the Rise of the Huguenots, Vol. 2

by Henry Martyn Baird

The edict had expressly directed that all churches should be restored to the Roman Catholics, and that the Protestants should resort for worship to other places, either in the suburbs, or—in the case of cities which the Huguenots had held on the seventh of March, 1563—within the walls. But, soon after the restoration of peace, the consuls and inhabitants of Milhau presented a petition to Charles the Ninth, in which they make the startling assertion that the entire population has become Protestant ("de la religion"); that for two years or thereabouts they have lived in undisturbed peace, whilst other cities have been the scene of disturbances; and that, at a recent gathering of the inhabitants, they unanimously expressed their desire to live in the exercise of the reformed faith, under the royal permission. By the king's order the petition was referred for examination to the commissioners for the execution of the edict in the province of Guyenne. All its statements were found to be strictly correct. There was not one papist within the city; not one man, woman, or child expressed a desire for the re-establishment of the Roman Catholic ceremonial. The monks had renounced the cowl, the priests their vestments. Of their own free will, some of the friars had married, some had taken up useful trades. The prior had voluntarily resigned the greater part of his revenues; retaining one-third for his own support, he had begged that the remainder might be devoted to the preaching of God's Word and the maintenance of the poor. The two churches of the place had for eighteen months been used for Protestant worship, and there were no other convenient places to be found. Indeed, had the churches been given up, there would have been no one to take possession. A careful domiciliary examination by four persons appointed by the royal judge had incontestably established the point. Over eight hundred houses were visited, constituting the greater part of the city. The occupants were summoned to express their preferences, and the result was contained in the solemn return of the commission: "We have not found a single person who desired or asked for the mass; but, on the contrary, all demanded the preaching of the Word of God, and the administration of His holy sacraments as instituted by Himself in that Word. And thus we certify by the oath we have taken to God and to the king."[315]

The cry for ministers.

From other places the cry of the churches for ministers to be sent from Geneva was unabated. In one town and its environs, so inadequate was a single minister to the discharge of his pastoral duties, that the peasants of the vicinity were compelled to baptize one another's children, or to leave them unbaptized.[316] At Montpellier it is the consuls that beg that their corps of ministers may be doubled; their two pastors cannot preach every day and three times upon Sunday, and yet visit the neighboring villages.[317]

Establishment of the Reformation in Béarn.

Nowhere, however, was the advance of Protestantism so hopeful as in the principality of Béarn, whither Jeanne d'Albret had retired, and where, since her husband's death, she had been dividing her cares between the education of her son, Henry of Navarre, and the establishment of the Reformation. A less courageous spirit than hers[318] might well have succumbed in view of the difficulties in her way. Of the nobility not one-tenth, of the magistracy not one-fifth, were favorable to the changes which she wished to introduce. The clergy were, of course, nearly unanimous in opposition.[319] She was, however, vigorously and wisely seconded in her efforts by the eminent reformed pastor, Merlin, formerly almoner of Admiral Coligny, whom Calvin had sent from Geneva at her request.[320] But when, contrary to his advice, the Queen of Navarre had summoned a meeting of the estates of her small territory, she detected unexpected symptoms of resistance. She accordingly abstained from broaching the unwelcome topic of reformation. But the deputies of the three orders themselves introduced it. Taking occasion from a prohibition she had issued against carrying the host in procession, they petitioned her to maintain them in the religion of their ancestors, in accordance with the promise which the princes of the country were accustomed to make.[321] Fortunately a small minority was found to offer a request of an entirely opposite tenor; and Jeanne d'Albret, with her characteristic firmness, declared in reply "that she would reform religion in her country, whoever might oppose." So much discontent did this decision provoke that there was danger of open sedition.[322]

These internal obstacles were, however, by no means the only difficulties. The court of Pau was disturbed by an uninterrupted succession of rumors of trouble from without. Now it was the French king that stood ready to seize the scanty remnants of Navarre, or the Spaniard that was all prepared for an invasion from the south; anon it was Montluc from the side of Guyenne, or Damville from that of Languedoc, who were meditating incursions in the interest of the Roman Catholic Church. "In short," exclaims her indefatigable coadjutor, Raymond Merlin, "it is wonderful that this princess should be able to persist with constancy in her holy design!"[323] Then came the papal citation, and the necessity to avoid the alienation of the French court which would certainly result from suddenly abolishing the papal rites, especially in view of the circumstance that Catharine de' Medici had several times begged the Queen of Navarre by letter to refrain from taking that decided step.[324]

A plan to kidnap Jeanne and her children.

It speaks well for the energy and intrepidity of Jeanne d'Albret, as well as for the wisdom of some of her advisers, that she was able to lay in these troublous times such broad foundations for the Protestant system of worship and government as we shall shortly have occasion to see her laying; for she was surrounded by courtiers who beheld in her bold espousal of the Reformation the death-blow to their hopes of advancement at Paris, and were, consequently, resolute in their opposition. An incident occurring some months later demonstrates that the perils from her treacherous neighbors were not purely imaginary. This event was nothing less than the discovery of a plan to kidnap the Queen of Navarre and her young son and daughter, and to give them over into the hands of the Spanish Inquisition. Shortly after Antoine's death, her enemies in France—among whom, despite his subsequent denial, it is probable that Blaise de Montluc was one—had devised this plot as a promising means of promoting their interests. They had despatched a trusty agent to prepare a few of their most devoted partisans in Guyenne for its execution; he was then to pass into Spain, to confer with the Duke of Alva. The latter part of his instructions had not been fulfilled when the assassination of Guise took place. Nothing daunted by this mishap, the conspirators ordered their agent to carry out the original scheme. Alva received it with favor, and sent the Frenchman, with his own approval of the undertaking, to the Spanish court, where he held at least three midnight interviews with Philip. No design was ever more dear to that prudent monarch's heart than one which combined the rare attractions of secrecy and treachery, particularly if there were a reasonable hope in the end of a little wholesome blood-letting. Fortunately, however, the messenger had not been so careful in his conversation but that he disclosed to one of Isabella's French servants all that was essential in his commission. The momentous secret soon found its way to the Spanish queen's almoner, and finally to the queen herself. The blow impending over her cousin's head terrified Isabella, and melted her compassionate heart. She disclosed to the ambassador of Charles the Ninth the astounding fact that some of the Spanish troops then at Barcelona, on their way to the campaign in Barbary, were to be quietly sent back from the coast to the interior. Thence, passing through defiles in the Pyrenees, under experienced guides, they were to fall upon the unsuspecting court of the Queen of Navarre at Pau. In such a case, to be forewarned was to be forearmed. The private secretary of the French envoy was despatched to inform Jeanne d'Albret of her peril, and to notify Catharine de' Medici of the intended incursion into the French territories. The premature disclosure occasioned the abandonment of the plan; but it is said that Philip the Second never forgave his unfortunate wife her part in frustrating its execution.[325]

The Council of Trent closes its sessions.