The last stage of Charles IX’s long tour of the provinces was from Bordeaux[959] to Bayonne[960] where the French court arrived on May 22, 1565. But that indolence of spirit which is so much associated with Spanish character seems as early as the sixteenth century to have become habitual,[961] so that the Spanish queen was forced to travel in the heat (six soldiers of Strozzi’s band died with their armor on from heat prostration), which aggravated the plague prevailing in certain parts.[962]
In conferences of state, especially international conferences, things of importance are confined within four walls. The sixteenth century was par excellence the age of closet politics. The world upon the outside saw only the fêtes[963] that marked the interview at Bayonne. But these festivities were no more than the flecks or wreaths of glittering foam that float upon the bosom of the water for an instant and then are gone. The real business at Bayonne was politics. But the great importance for three hundred years[964] attributed to this famous interview is today proved to have had slight foundation in fact. The light of recent research has dissipated the traditional belief that Philip II and Catherine de Medici planned the massacre of the French Protestants at Bayonne, and finally consummated it on St. Bartholomew’s Day.[965] The truth is that not what was contemplated but what was imagined was contemplated at Bayonne became the important historical influence of the future. An assumed fact came to have all the force of reality. The principals in this unfortunate conference, in point of truth, were far apart from one another. Philip II’s interests were wholly political, and personalities were merely incidental to his main purpose. On the other hand, the queen mother’s interests were chiefly personal, being centered in plans to achieve brilliant marriage alliances for her children, for whose sake she ruinously compromised herself and France.
If Catherine had been less vain and less foolishly affectionate, she would have striven harder for the solution of things more vital to France. It is true she was far from ignoring these issues entirely, but she weakened the cause of France in respect to them by subordinating these to her main purpose, so that she awakened the greater suspicion of Spain by her attempts to avoid answering in those matters of most concern to Philip II and by her continual harping upon the things that were nearest to her heart, but not of most moment either to France or to Spain. When the duke of Alva drove her into a corner and compelled her to answer the questions he put to her concerning greater politics, Catherine’s replies were fatal to her aspirations. What were these matters?
Alva’s instructions were strict. He was to demand the expulsion of the Huguenot ministers from France within thirty days; the interdiction of Protestant worship; acceptance of the decrees of the Council of Trent; profession of the Catholic religion by all office holders.[966] This policy of suppression and compulsion outlined by his sovereign was wholly in keeping with his, the duke’s, own judgment. But with greater penetration and less hesitation than Philip II, Alva recognized clearly the intimate connection between the politics of Flanders and the politics of France, and favored the adoption of a parallel line of conduct at once in the Low Countries. He was convinced that France was incapable of managing her own affairs and was a menace to other states, politically and religiously.[967] The means of repression which Spain had often urged had not produced the results desired: they had only delayed the total ruin of the nation. Suggestion and insinuation must be replaced by a more drastic policy. Assassination was a recognized, perhaps a quasi-legitimate political recourse in the eyes of the men of the sixteenth century. The old generation of French Catholics upon whom Spain could rely, the cardinal de Tournon, the duke of Guise, the marshal St. André, had passed away—one of them assassinated at the hands of a Huguenot. Tavannes and Vieilleville were reluctant to sacrifice country to religion, especially when a rival nation would profit thereby. The constable was the only old-time figure of prominence remaining, and he could not be relied on since the conflict between the marshal Montmorency and the cardinal of Lorraine, for he favored the side of his nephews and so was believed to be not far distant from the party of the admiral.[968] Power had fallen into the hands of the Huguenots, whose leaders now excelled in personal force. “The shortest, the most expeditious way, is to behead Condé, the admiral, D’Andelot, La Rochefoucauld, and Grammont,” Alva told the duke of Montpensier[969] and Montluc, the two most earnest French converts to this policy.[970]
But it was yet a far cry from this cool advocacy of assassination of the Protestant leaders to the wholesale slaughter of August 24, 1572. There is really no positive connection between the conference of Bayonne and the massacre of St. Bartholomew.[971] The slaughter of the French Protestants as a sect was never advocated by any prince in Europe, not even Philip II. There is no evidence at the Vatican of any Catholic or papal league for the extirpation of the Protestants. Such a solution of the religious problem was not contemplated, save by one person in Europe at this time—Pope Pius V. It is this pontiff who has the sinister distinction of having advocated general destruction of the Protestants, rather than a discriminating assassination of the Huguenot leaders.[972] The most radical action touching the Huguenots at large, it may safely be said, that was regarded practicable in 1564-65 was to forbid and prevent future conversion,[973] or else the wholesale exile of the Huguenots from the realm.[974] The alternative of total destruction was not contemplated anywhere in Europe or at any time, except in the single case mentioned.
No such crime as the massacre of the Huguenots was planned at Bayonne, nor perpetrated as the result of that conference. The principals in the case were too far apart in intention and conviction for so gigantic a programme. The paramount purpose of the queen mother was to marry Charles IX to the elder daughter of the Emperor, Margaret of Valois to Don Carlos, and the duke of Orleans (the future Henry III) to Donna Juana, Philip II’s sister. But Alva was crafty. By a series of adroit questions which tantalized her hopes and preyed upon her fears, he compelled Catherine de Medici to commit herself upon the very political issues which she wished to avoid discussing, until she was hopelessly compromised. In vain she doubled like a fox pursued by the hounds and tried to throw the duke off upon a false scent.
“France must be cleared of this vicious sect,” said Alva. In order to avoid replying, Catherine attempted, by a question, to turn the conversation to the subject of a universal league, whether it should be against the Turk or against the heretic. Alva was not thrown off. The queen resorted to sarcasm.
“Since you understand the evil from which France is suffering so well,” she said, “tell me the remedy.”
Alva sidestepped the direct shot, by suavely rejoining: