THE TOUR OF THE PROVINCES.[814] THE BAYONNE EPISODE
“I am always _en voyage_,” wrote the Venetian ambassador to the senate.
“Since the beginning of my embassy the King has not staid more than
fifteen days in any one place. He goes from Lorraine to Poitou, and
then to Normandy and the edge of Belgium, back again to Normandy, then
to Paris, Picardy, Champagne, Burgundy.”[815] Dr. Dale wrote in the
same strain to Lord Burghley: “The Spanish ambassador has a saying that
ambassadors in France are eaten up by their horses, since they are
constrained to keep so many because of the habit of the court of moving
from place to place continually.”[816]
But there was point to Charles IX’s famous tour of the provinces in
1564-66. The unsettled condition of the country, if no other reason,
accounts for Catherine’s great design of completing the pacification
of the kingdom by having the King tour the realm. The route lay
through Sens[817] (March 15) to Troyes (March 23)[818] where the peace
with England was signed on April 13; thence to Châlons-sur-Marne,
Bar-le-Duc, Dijon (May 15), Macon (June 8), and thence to Lyons, where
the court arrived on June 13. The King traveled with his ordinary
train, that is, with his mother, his brother, the duke of Anjou,
the constable, and the archers of the guard, in order to spare the
people the burden of great entertainment, and those princes and
nobles who wished to follow were accompanied only by their ordinary
servants.[819] If the Huguenots viewed the King’s sojourn at Bar-le-Duc
with apprehension,[820] it was not without anxiety that his Catholic
subjects saw Charles IX visit the great city located at the junction
of the Rhone and the Saône rivers.[821] Lyons seems to have imbibed
something of Calvinism from the very waters of the arrowy river whose
source was the lake of the citadel of Calvinism.[822] The rumor was
current that a greater conspiracy than that of Amboise was on foot;
that the King and queen were to be deposed and slain, and that Lyons
would unite with Geneva to form a greater Calvinistic republic.[823]
[Illustration: The Tour of the Provinces, 1564-66]
But Lyons welcomed the King graciously, and gave him sumptuous
accommodation.[824] Charles was charmed with the reception given him
and amazed at the wealth and commercial prosperity of the city.[825]
Situated at the confluence of the Rhone and the Saône rivers, the
wines and grain of Burgundy came to Lyons for market, while it was
the natural entrepôt of the commerce out of Italy, besides much that
came from Spain and Flanders. There were four fairs there each year.
The great industry of the city was silk manufacturing. In 1450 Charles
VII had granted it the monopoly in this. Francis I in 1536 relieved
the silk operatives of all taxes and military service. The bulk of the
commerce was in the hands of Italians, of whom there were said to be
above twelve thousand in the city—chiefly Florentines, Genoese, and
Milanese.[826] There were also many Germans and Swiss, whose presence
gave the governor, the duke of Nemours,[827] great anxiety, because
large quantities of arms were smuggled into the city in the guise of
merchandise.[828]
The court had not been long upon its tour through the provinces before
Catherine de Medici discovered that the petition of the estates of
Burgundy for the abolition of Protestant worship was not merely a local
prejudice, but the sense of the provinces.[829] The elements of this
public opinion were various: The clergy—not all, however—wanted the
findings of the Council of Trent accepted _in toto_; all of them were
dissatisfied with the recognition of the rights of the Protestants;
the alienation of their lands was a grievance to the clergy, the more
so because speculators had bought them at a low price because of the
doubt as to the validity of the title.[830] The Guises were angry
that the prosecution of Coligny for the murder of the duke had been
abandoned.[831] Among high and low alike there were unprincipled folk
who had hopes of profiting by confiscations and forfeitures imposed
upon the Huguenots.[832]
The queen mother was too good a politician not to pay heed to these
signs of popular feeling, more especially as the voice of the provinces
chimed with those in high authority, who not only urged that the war
be renewed against the Protestants but also hinted broadly of foreign
support in aid of the crown. At first Catherine answered graciously,
yet guardedly, to the effect that a peace which had been so solemnly
made, by the advice of the princes of the blood and the council, could
not be too lightly cast aside.
The miserable effects of the war were everywhere evident. Agriculture
had almost ceased in a country famous for its fertility, and the whole
country had been so plundered and harassed by both parties that the
poor people, being stripped of all their substance, often preferred
to fly to the forests rather than to remain continually exposed to
the mercy of their enemies. Wandering soldiers and dissolute women,
with stolen goods in their possession, infested the roads.[833] As to
trade and manufacturing, the mechanic arts still were plied only in
the largest and strongest towns; even here merchants and tradesmen had
shut up shop and gone off to war, not always out of religious zeal,
but in the hope of enriching themselves by spoliation. The nobility
were divided; the clergy incensed. The civil war had been accompanied
by the attendant aids of violence, robbery, murder, rape, and justice
had not been administered in the courts for months. The very methods
resorted to for the preservation of religion rendered it hateful in the
eyes of many men of both parties. Both parties were bigoted in belief
and in practice. The iconoclasm of the Protestants, who tore down
church edifices hoary with age and sanctified by tradition, expelling
the inmates, both male and female, if doing them no worse injury,
familiarized society with changes wrought by violence and made the
people callous to one of the most precious possessions of a nation—a
reverence for tradition.[834]
To all these difficulties the prevalence of the plague must be added.
Since the century of the Black Death Europe had not so suffered
from this scourge as in the sixteenth. It recurred intermittently,
being especially violent in the years 1531, 1533, 1544, 1546, 1548,
1553, 1562-64, 1568, 1577-80.[835] No part of Europe was spared.
France, England, Spain, the Low Countries, Germany, and Italy, all
suffered. But certain portions of France suffered more than others,
as Bas-Languedoc, Provence, the Lyonnais, Burgundy, Champagne, the
Ile-de-France, and Normandy. The west and especially the southwest were
relatively exempt. Apparently the disease followed the trades-routes
along the river valleys, for Toulouse, Lyons, Châlons-sur-Saône,
Macon, Châlons-sur-Marne, Langres, Bourges, La Charité, Orleans,
Tours, Moulins, Sens, Melun, Dijon, Troyes, Château-Thierry, Soissons,
Beauvais, Pontoise, Paris, Rouen, and the Norman ports suffered
most.[836] As always, Italy was the immediate source of the epidemic,
which was communicated from place to place by the movements of trade.
Lyons paid dearly for its commercial pre-eminence, for the ravages of
the plague were terrible there.[837] It was at its height when the
court was there in July, 1564. The English ambassador, Smith, gives a
fearful picture of the state of the city. Men died in the street before
his lodgings. His servant who went daily for his provisions sometimes
saw ten and twelve corpses, some naked, lying in the streets where they
lay till “men clothed in yellow” removed them. A great many bodies
were cast into the river, “because they will not be at the cost to
make graves. This day,” he writes on July 12, “from break of day till
ten o’clock there laid a man naked in the street, groaning and drawing
his last breath, not yet dead. Round the town there are tents of the
pestiferous, besides those which are shut up in their houses.”[838]
Almost every third house was closed because of the plague. The city
authorities vainly tried to combat the disease by providing that
visits were to be made twice a day by those appointed; but as there
were but five “master surgeons” in the whole city, medical attention
must have been slight. Persons affected with the plague were to be
removed to the hospital—the oldest and one of the best in Europe at
that time. Corpses were to be buried at night and the clothes of the
dead burned.[839] “About the Rhone men dare eat no fish nor fishers
lay their engines and nets, because instead of fish they take up the
pestiferous carcasses which are thrown in.” New sanitary regulations
were made. All filth was to be cast into the river and not allowed to
pollute the streets or the river banks. Fires of scented wood were kept
burning between every ten houses in the street. Pigs and other animals
were not allowed at large. Meat, fish, and vegetable stalls were to be
inspected and all decayed provisions destroyed.[840]
It is interesting to observe the efforts made by local authorities to
prevent the spread of the disease and the relief measures that were
taken. As soon as the plague was discovered, the town authorities
usually set guards to watch the houses of those stricken and appointed
barbers and gravediggers to treat ill and to inter the dead. These
attendants were supported and paid by a tax laid upon the town. Those
who were ill were sent to a house of isolation appointed to be a
hospital, which was often upon the walls of the town, remote from the
people. In Provins the church and cemetery were immediately adjacent
to the hospital! The mortality was great. In Provins in 1562 there
were eighty persons stricken, of whom sixty died, among them four of
the attendants. Two of the barber-surgeons refused to serve and were
proceeded against by the town bailiff and were hanged in effigy because
the principals in the case had made their escape. Diseased houses were
sprinkled with perfumes and aromatic herbs were burned in them in order
to purify them.[841] As always, the dislocation of society and the
depravation of morals worked havoc in the community. Crimes of violence
were common.[842]
Little by little, however, this picture of misery faded into the
background of the queen’s mind and the question of political
expediency, which was always the lodestar of her policy, became her
primary consideration.[843] The Catholics plucked up courage as the
court progressed[844] and Huguenot suspicion of the queen’s course was
early aroused. Shortly after the tour of the provinces had begun, and
while the court was still at Troyes pending the signature of the treaty
of peace, there was a jar between D’Andelot and the queen mother, who
would not permit him to choose his own captains and other officers as
was customarily permitted to colonels. Partially in consequence of
this affront, and partially to avoid being compromised more with Queen
Elizabeth, D’Andelot, the prince of Condé, and the cardinal Châtillon
all remained away from the sessions of the council while the terms
of peace were under consideration, and when the court resumed its
migration, no one of these attended it.[845] Indeed, after the court
left Châlons-sur-Marne, so wide was the breach between the prince of
Condé, the admiral and all of that faction, and the court, that the
chancellor L’Hôpital was the only official who continued to treat them
with deference.[846] The consideration shown Jeanne d’Albret only
partially relieved the suspicions of the Protestants.[847]
We find the anxiety of the Protestants over the situation reflected in
the proceedings of the provincial synod of the Reformed churches of the
region through which the court had been traveling during this season,
namely the churches of Champagne, Brie, Picardy, the Ile-de-France, and
the French Vexin.[848] This synod assembled on April 27, 1564, at La
Ferté-sous-Jouarre, and was composed of forty-five ministers. Letters
were read from many parts of France and abroad, among which was one
from Beza bidding the Huguenots to be on their guard as the priests
were contributing money for the purpose of rooting out the truth. It
was agreed by the body to reply that the Protestants were suspicious of
the intentions of the queen mother.[849] In its resolutions the synod
condemned the policy of the magistrates who cloaked their religious
animosity under the guise of the law,[850] and complained that the
Catholics were carrying the King about the country in order to show
him the ruin of their churches.[851] The moderate La Roche even went so
far as to declare that the Reformed church never could have peace while
the queen mother governed.
Justice and historical accuracy, however, require that it be said that
the Huguenots’ own conduct was sometimes in violation of the privileges
granted them by the Edict of Amboise. Their iconoclasm toward the
images and the pictures which the Catholics considered sacred was
outrageous; they failed to confine their worship to authorized places,
so that the magistrates were acting within their rights in so far
repressing Protestant worship; their provincial synods not infrequently
were inflammatory political assemblies.[852] On the other hand, the
Catholics wilfully molested the Huguenots, interfering in their
congregations, and compelling them to pay tithes and other dues for the
support of the Catholic poor and even—Castelnau says—to support their
provincial leagues.[853]
But the Huguenots went too far in their suspicion of the government.
Beza, at the synod of La Ferté-sous-Jouarre had been apprehensive of
a joint attack of France and Savoy upon Geneva, not knowing that the
French aim was to renew the alliance with the Catholic cantons in
order to prevent Spanish ascendency there.[854] Bern and Zurich were
the pillars of French ascendency in the Alpine country. France counted
upon them more than upon all else to prevent Spanish recruiting, and
to close the Alpine passes to Spain’s army. To this end Bellièvre, the
marshal Vieilleville, and the bishop of Limoges, who had returned
from Madrid, where he was succeeded by St. Sulpice, were sent into
Switzerland in the early spring of 1564 to penetrate the designs
of Spain, and to promise an early payment of the French debts due
to the cantons in return for their military support in the wars of
Henry II.[855] Bellièvre’s particular mission was to the Grisons. The
position of the Grisons was a precarious one, for Spain could attack
them from the Valteline, or starve them by prohibiting the exportation
of grain into the country from Lombardy. By using such threats the
Spanish governor of Milan hoped to compel the adherence of the Grisons
to a treaty which would open to Spanish and imperial arms the great
Alpine routes of the Splügen, the Bernina, and the Stelvio, thus
connecting the territories of the two branches of the Hapsburg house
and shutting France out from eastern Switzerland. Bellièvre fraternized
with the popular element, and by May, 1564, had almost completely
neutralized the success of his Spanish rival in spite of Spanish gold.
Fortunately for France the Ten Jurisdictions declared in her favor and
the Grisons, though very Spaniardized, luckily had a French pensioner
as its chief magistrate, the Swiss captain Florin.
Meanwhile the negotiations of the bishop of Limoges and the marshal
Vieilleville had progressed so far that the treaty of alliance was all
but signed. Late in October Bellièvre received from Freiburg the text
of the articles of alliance which the bishop of Limoges and the marshal
Vieilleville proposed to submit to the Swiss diet. Encouraged by this
success, he went to Glarus in order to overcome the influence of the
Zurich preachers who were outspoken enemies of the French alliance, and
if possible to settle the difference between that state and Schwytz. By
great dexterity he prevailed upon the two cantons to accept a uniform
treaty. But he could not push negotiations to a conclusion until
hearing from his colleagues.
Spain made a supreme effort to secure the opening of the passages
between the Tyrol and the Milanais, but failed because the Grisons
promised France that they would accept the principle of a renewed
alliance, leaving the settlement of details pending, so that although
the supremacy of France in Switzerland was not absolutely assured, at
least the adherence of the three leagues to her seemed assured.
But the Escurial and the Vatican were leagued to destroy French
influence in Switzerland. Spain gave up hope of compelling the cantons
to make a direct alliance with her, but by means of commercial threats
and commercial inducements counted on still keeping the Alpine passes
open to her arms. Her maxim was, where the grain of Lombardy goes,
there Spain’s armies may go, too. To neutralize this danger the French
energetically opposed any renewal of an alliance between the Vatican
and the Swiss cantons. The Grey League, later won by the commercial
promises of Spain, separated from the other two in the end, but its
defection was not so serious as it might have been, since according to
the joint constitution the vote of two leagues in matters of foreign
policy compelled the adherence of the third. But in order further to
strengthen the hold of France, the French ambassadors had recourse to
a sort of referendum in order to secure an approval of the majority of
all the Swiss towns in favor of the French alliance, in addition to the
official action of the three leagues. The success of this stroke was
complete and the general diet of the three leagues gave its adherence
to the treaty of Freiburg concluded by the bishop of Limoges and the
marshal Vieilleville on December 7, 1564.[856] The poverty of France,
however, seriously endangered the continuance of this alliance. When it
was concluded, France tried to stave off payment of her debts, which
amounted to more than 600,000 livres, yet demanded the execution of the
articles of Freiburg. Glarus, Lucerne, Schwytz, Appenzell, Valais, the
Grisons, Schaffhausen, and Basel bitterly complained, the last also
because of the burdens laid upon the importations of her commerce into
France through Lyons.
In this conflict which France carried on against Spain and the Holy See
in Switzerland, Charles IX was supported by the German Protestants, who
of course were hostile to both houses of Hapsburg, and France may be
credited with considerable address in smoothing the ruffled feelings
of Basel and Schaffhausen, and softening the Protestant prejudices of
Zurich. This is simply another way of saying that the foreign policy
of France in Switzerland was a Protestant policy. Even Bern yielded
and joined the general treaty of alliance instead of insisting upon a
particular treaty, as she had at first done.[857]
The Huguenots, however, suspicious of the impending reaction at home
and misreading the diplomacy of France in Switzerland, grew more and
more fearful and began to turn their eyes again toward the prince of
Condé as a leader. But fortune and the craft of Catherine had lured
the prince away from his own; he had become a broken reed, dangerous
to lean upon. In July, 1564, Eleanor de Roye, the brave princess of
Condé, died.[858] The Guises and the queen mother, who were now in
co-operation,[859] at once began to practice to lure Condé away forever
from his party, and the former at the same time, in order to make the
alliance between France and Scotland more firm, conceived the idea of
marrying the prince of Condé to Mary Queen of Scots.[860] As another
possibility the Guises cherished the hope of marrying their niece to
Charles IX and thus recovering the ascendency they had enjoyed under
Francis II.[861] The corollary of such a plan was the reduction of the
Protestants of France. To these ideas Philip II, was stoutly opposed,
though he concealed his opposition thereto; Mary was too valuable for
his projects to be suffered to become a tool of the Guises. Their
purposes were limited to France; his purposes embraced Christendom.[862]
In 1575 the Venetian ambassador wrote, à propos of one of the
courtships of Queen Elizabeth: “Princes are wont to avail themselves
of matrimonial negotiations in many ways.”[863] These words sagely
summarize the efforts of much of the diplomacy of the sixteenth
century. By a singular combination of events and lineages, Mary Stuart
was necessarily almost the cornerstone of the universal monarchy Philip
II dreamed of forming in Europe; her possession of the Scottish crown,
her claims to England, her relationship with the Guises, united with
the religion she professed, made the furtherance of her power the most
practicable means to that end. Whether Mary’s future husband were Don
Carlos or the Austrian archduke was a matter of detail in Philip’s
plan—the end remained constant. Mary Stuart was of too much value to
Philip II’s political designs to risk such a marriage as the Guises
contemplated.[864] Her hand might be disposed elsewhere with greater
advantage.
Those intense religious convictions of the Spanish King which
made him believe he was the divinely ordained instrument of the
counter-Reformation, united with his political purposes and ambitions,
required him to keep a watchful eye upon France.[865] The Netherlands,
France, Italy, England, Scotland were like so many squares of a vast
political chessboard upon which he aimed so to move the pieces he was
in command of as ultimately to seize possession of those countries,
and redeem them from heresy. Mary Stuart was an important personage
in Philip’s purposes. He wanted to put her on the throne of Elizabeth
and thus unite Scotland and England under a common Catholic rule.
For a time he dreamed of marrying her to his own son, Don Carlos,
until Catherine interfered and offered her daughter Marguerite as a
less dangerous alternative to France. The death of Don Carlos,[866]
the eternal irresolution of the Spanish King, the development of new
events, continually altered the details of Philip’s purposes, but his
essential aim never varied an iota.[867]
The subjugation of France, not in the exact terms of loss of
sovereignty, perhaps, but no less in loss of true national independence
was a necessary condition of Philip’s purposes. The kingdom of France
was situated in the very center of those dominions whose consolidation
was to be the Spanish King’s realization of universal rule. Spain
bordered her on the south; the Netherlands on the north; in the east
lay Franche Comté. Besides these territories which were directly
Spanish, the Catholic cantons of Switzerland and Savoy were morally in
vassalage to Spain. Beyond Franche Comté lay the Catholic Rhinelands,
bound to the other branch of the house of Hapsburg. Beyond Switzerland
and Savoy lay Italy, save Venice entirely, and Rome in part, a group of
Spanish dominions.
Catherine de Medici combated Philip II both at Madrid and Vienna.
But by the side of the negative purpose to thwart Philip’s proposed
alliances, Catherine de Medici had purposes of her own of the same
sort. The daughter of a house made rich by banking and which never
lived down the bourgeois tradition of its ancestry in spite of all its
wealth and power, even though popes had come from its house, Catherine
was fascinated by the thought of marrying Charles IX to the eldest
daughter of the Hapsburgs, and her favorite son, the future Henry III,
then known as the duke of Orleans-Anjou, to the Spanish princess Juana,
sister of Philip, hoping to see some of Spain’s numerous dominions pass
to France as part of Juana’s dowry.
In the pursuance of this double marriage project, the queen early began
to beset Philip II for a personal interview, and urged her daughter
to persuade the king to the same end, using Pius IV’s cherished idea
of a concert of the great Catholic powers to consider the condition
and needs of Christendom with some adroitness as a screen to her own
personal purposes.[868]
Much of her correspondence with St. Sulpice relates to an interview
with Philip II for the purpose of arranging these matters, upon which
she had set her heart, and the time of both the ambassador and the
Spanish King was consumed with repeated interviews none of which was
ever satisfactory, and all of which were tedious.[869] The natural
reluctance of Philip II to commit himself to any positive course,
united with the great aversion he felt toward the queen mother because
of her wavering religious policy—for rigid adherence to Catholicism
was Philip’s one inflexible feature—led the King to follow a course
of procrastination and duplicity for months, during which, however, he
never evinced any outward sign of impatience; his countenance remained
as imperturbable as that of a Hindu idol, and never by any expression
reflected his thought.[870]
Foolish pride and undue affection led Catherine even to use the Turk
as a means of pressure upon Spain in order to accomplish this double
marriage project. In the year 1562 an ambassador of the Sultan passed
through France, having come by way of Venice to Lyons, and going
thence via Dijon and Troyes to Paris.[871] Turkey, after crushing
the revolt of Bajazet,[872] was seeking to avenge the accumulated
grievances which she had suffered from Austria and Spain, especially
the latter, for Philip II’s expedition to Oran and his capture of its
fortress, which was regarded as impregnable, had been a bitter blow
to the Porte.[873] Exasperated by Spain, Turkey whose war policy was
guided by the able grand vizier, Mohammed Sokolli, prepared a vast
expedition to expel her from all points which she occupied in Africa.
But such a campaign was not possible until Malta, lying midway in the
straits of the Mediterranean, was overcome.[874] Europe, which still
preserved an acute memory of the protracted siege of Rhodes, looked
forward with dismay to the prospective attack upon Malta, so that
Catherine de Medici’s cordial reception at Dax of another Turkish
ambassador—he was a Christian Pole in the employ of the Sultan—in the
course of the tour of the provinces was a political act that was daring
to rashness.[875] In order to force Philip II’s hand Catherine even
intimated that Charles IX might marry Queen Elizabeth, although this
proposition was too great a strain upon the credulity of Europe to be
given any consideration.[876] Soon after St. Sulpice reached Spain, we
find Toulouse suggested as the place for the desired interview,[877]
and thereafter for thirty-eight months this conference was one of the
dominant thoughts in Catherine’s mind.[878]
The queen mother’s original plan had been to avoid the heat of the
south by passing the winter at Moulins, and visiting Languedoc and
Guyenne in the next spring.[879] But the influence of impending
change impelled her forward in the maze of tournaments, balls, and
masques.[880] Although she was in “a country full of mountains and
brigands,”[881] so that she feared “que cette canaille sacageassent
quelques uns de sa cour,” and strengthened Strozzi’s band as a
precaution, nevertheless Catherine’s resolution seems to have increased
in degree as she moved southward. Probably the fact that the prince
of Condé was in the toils encouraged her; certainly the necessity of
exhibiting something positive that would please Spain, in view of the
approaching interview, actuated her. But apart from her own motives,
outside pressure had been brought to bear upon her to this end, when
at Bar-le-Duc, where the King went to attend the baptism of the infant
child of Charles III, duke of Lorraine, who had married Charles IX’s
sister, Claudine, in March.[882] Later “when the court came to Lyons
information was brought to it that if the King and his advisers should
continue to resist the general rising against the Huguenots, it would
be turned against itself.”[883] In this instance, however, the pressure
came, not from Spain, but from Pope Pius IV whose agent, the Florentine
Ludovico Antinori, was sent to France to urge the extirpation of
Calvinism and to plead the cause of the findings of the Council of
Trent.[884] Catherine obeyed the signs. But as a sudden rupture of the
peace of Amboise would have been attended with dangerous consequences
she proceeded cautiously.[885]
The first[886] definite intimation of the reaction was an edict issued
on July 24, prohibiting Calvinist worship within ten leagues of the
court, notwithstanding the fact that authorized places of Protestant
worship were affected by it. A fortnight later, on August 4, came a
more sweeping edict—the so-called Edict of Roussillon[887] which
forbade all persons of whatever religion, quality, or condition to
molest one another, or to violate or maltreat images, or to lay hands
upon any sacred objects upon pain of death; magistrates were likewise
enjoined to prevent the Huguenots from performing their devotions in
any suspected places, but to confine them to such places as had been
specified; finally, the Huguenots were forbidden to hold any synods
or other assemblies except in the presence of certain of the King’s
officers, who were appointed to be present at them.[888] The pretext
of both of these edicts was the trespass upon the terms of Amboise by
the Protestants, and fear of a Protestant conspiracy. But in reality
the action of the government constituted a partial yielding to that
Catholic pressure which already had made itself manifest at Nancy.
The Edict of Roussillon completely ignored a petition of the Huguenots
presented to the King while at Roussillon, which shows the pernicious
activity of the local Catholic leagues already. The complaint
specified that infractions of the Edict of Amboise had been committed
by the Catholics, especially in Burgundy; that Catholic associations
everywhere were being formed against them; that the priests openly
lauded the King of Spain from their pulpits; that their synods were
broken up by the enemies of their religion.[889]
After a sojourn of a month at Roussillon, the pilgrimage of the court
was again resumed. At Valence (August 22) Catherine received word
that Elizabeth of Spain had given birth to still-born twin babes. On
September 24 Avignon was reached, where a stay of two weeks was made
during which Catherine consulted the famous astrologer Nostradamus.
Hyères and Aix were stages on the road to Marseilles[890] (November
3-10), whence it led to Nîmes[891] (December 12), and Montpellier[892]
(December 17), and thence to Agde and Beziers,[893] where progress
for some time was blocked by heavy snow-falls. The snows irritated
Catherine and to placate her impatience she was shown historical
evidence that both Blanche of Castile and the queen of Charles VII had
once been snowed-in in these parts for three months.[894] Unlike his
mother, Charles IX enjoyed it, building a snow fort in which he and his
pages withstood a siege by some of the gentlemen of the household.[895]
During this enforced sojourn Catherine de Medici received word of the
famous conflict between the marshal Montmorency, who had been made
governor of Paris,[896] when the court started _en tour_, and the
cardinal of Lorraine. On January 8, 1565, the cardinal of Lorraine
sought to enter Paris with a great rout of armed retainers. The marshal
demanded the disarming of the company, in compliance with a royal
_ordonnance_ of 1564 forbidding the carrying of arquebuses, pistols,
or other firearms,[897] not knowing that the cardinal had a warrant
from the queen mother authorizing his men to wear arms if so desired.
The cardinal haughtily refused to obey, and a fight took place in
the street near the corner of St. Innocents, in which one man was
killed.[898]
The reactionary policy of the government stimulated the local Catholic
leagues in Languedoc during this winter of 1564-65.[899] The religious
prejudice which these associations manifested was influenced by the
bitter jealousy existing between the Guises and the Montmorencys. From
the hour of the clash between the cardinal and the marshal, the Guises
plotted to compass the ruin of the house of Montmorency, and sought to
find support in the Catholic leagues of the southern provinces. The
tolerant policy of the marshal Montmorency and his brother Damville
was seized upon by the Guises to make them odious.[900] The secular
clergy and still more the Jesuits and Capuchins were very active in
this work, going from town to town and village to village, urging
Catholics vigorously to defend their faith, and their fiery preaching
materially advanced the tendency to union among the provincial
leagues.[901]
Under the effective leadership of the sieur de Candalle, the league
of Agen had had an astonishing spread over Guyenne, exhibiting a
strength of organization and an audacity which foreshadows that of
the Holy League of 1576, in whose genesis, indeed, it represents an
evolutionary stage. What made the league of Guyenne so peculiarly
formidable, however, was not so much its perfection of organization and
its wide expansion, as the fact that it was organized and had existence
without the knowledge or consent of the crown, and in transgression
of the royal authority, which forbade such associations. This highly
developed stage of existence was arrived at by the league of Agen in
August, 1564, from which date it may properly be called the league of
Guyenne.[902]
Naturally the Guises approached Montluc with their plan. While the
court was sojourning at Mont-de-Marsan (March 9-24, 1565), waiting
the arrival of the Spanish queen and the duke of Alva at Bayonne,
an intimation was given to Montluc that a league was in process of
formation in France “wherein were several great persons, princes
and others,” and an agent of the Guises at this time endeavored
to persuade Montluc to join the association.[903] But Montluc was
cautious; he had no great affection for the Guises and, moreover,
leagues and such associations were against the law, which he, as a
crown officer, was pledged to support. Grammont who was opposed to
Montluc had already complained of his conduct to the queen mother.[904]
Besides, there were private reasons, whose nature will be soon
developed, which made him hesitate. Montluc carried his information to
Catherine de Medici, who, not yet perceiving that the ambition of the
Guises was the chief motive, was not at once seriously alarmed, since
the anti-Protestant policy of the government made it indifferent now
to such associations. Accordingly, when the court reached Bordeaux
(it arrived there on April 9) and the Huguenots renewed their
complaints against Candalle and his associates, the King ignored the
petition, recognizing that many of the nobles were members of the
league of Guyenne. Instead, he gave the league a quasi-legal status
by proclaiming that the crown would not listen to any more complaints
against Candalle and his associates.[905]
But the queen mother was genuinely alarmed a few weeks later when
the real purpose and scope of the proposed league were revealed
to her through an intercepted letter which the duke of Aumale had
written on February 27, 1565, to the marquis d’Elbœuf. The duke of
Montpensier, the vicomte de Martigues, Chavigny, who was a Guise
protégé, D’Angennes, and the bishop of Mans, were named in this letter
as the chiefs of an association, which had for its avowed end the
abasement of the house of Montmorency.[906] Catherine, apprehending
the consequences certain to result from such an extension of the feud
of the two houses, implored the King, at a large meeting of the council
held on May 18, 1565, to divulge what had been ascertained—that a
secret association had been discovered in defiance of the law, having
political aims detrimental to the monarchy, and a system of government
for the levying of men and money without the King’s authority. The
counselors, with one accord, denied their knowledge or implication,
and protested their devotion to the cause and the law. Catherine was
thoroughly alarmed, and appealed to Montluc for advice. What followed
may be told in his own words:
I heard then some whisper of a league that was forming in France,
wherein were several very great persons, both Princes and others,
whom nevertheless I have nothing to do to name, being engaged by
promise to the contrary. I cannot certainly say to what end this
League was contrived; but a certain gentleman named them to me every
one, endeavoring at the same time to persuade me to make one in the
Association, assuring me it was to a good end; but he perceived by my
countenance that it was not a dish for my palate. I presently gave
the Queen private intimation of it; for I could not endure such kind
of doings, who seemed to be very much astonished at it, telling me
it was the first syllable she had ever heard of any such thing; and
commanding me to enquire further into the business, which I did, but
could get nothing more out of my gentleman; for he now lay upon his
guard.
Her Majesty then was pleased to ask my advice, how she should behave
herself in this business, whereupon I gave her counsel to order it
so that the King himself should say in public that he had heard
of a League that was forming in his Kingdom, which no one could do
without giving him some jealousy and offence; and that therefore he
must require everyone without exception to break off this League,
and that he would make an Association in his Kingdom, of which he
himself would be the Head; for so for some time it was called, though
they afterwards changed the name, and called it the Confederation of
the King. The Queen at the time that I gave her this advice did by
no means approve of it, objecting, that should the King make one, it
was to be feared that others would make another; but I made answer
and said that the King must engage in his own all such as were in
any capacity of doing the contrary, which, however, was a thing that
could not be concealed, and might well enough be provided against. Two
days after, her Majesty being at supper, called me to her and told
me that she had considered better of the affair I had spoke to her
about, and found my counsel to be very good, and that the next day,
without further delay, she would make the King propound the business
to his Council; which she accordingly did, and sent to enquire for me
at my lodging, but I was not within. In the evening she asked me why
I did not come to her, and commanded me not to fail to come the next
day, because there were several great difficulties in the Council, of
which they had not been able to determine. I came according to her
command, and there were several disputes. Monsieur de Nemours made a
very elegant speech, remonstrating “That it would be very convenient
to make a League and Association for the good of the King and his
Kingdom, to the end, that if affairs should so require, every one
with the one and the same will might repair to his Majesty’s person,
to stake their lives and fortunes for his service, and also in case
any one of what religion soever, should offer to invade or assault
them, or raise any commotion in the state, that they might with one
accord unite, and expose their lives in their common defence.” The
Duke of Montpensier was of the same opinion, and several others saying
that they could not choose but so much the more secure the peace of
the Kingdom, when it should be known that all the Nobility were thus
united for the defence of the Crown.
The Queen then did me the honor to command me to speak; whereupon
I began, and said, “That the League proposed could be no ways
prejudicial to the King, being that it tended to a good end for his
Majesty’s service, the good of his Kingdom, and the peace and security
of his People; but that one which should be formed in private could
produce nothing but disorder and mischief; for the good could not
answer for the evil disposed; and should the cards once be shuffled
betwixt League and League, it would be a hard matter to make of it a
good game; that being the most infallible way to open a door to let
strangers into the kingdom, and to expose all things to spoil and
ruin; but that all of us in general, both Princes and others, ought to
make an Association, which should bear the title of the League, or
the Confederation of the King, and to take a great and solemn oath,
not to decline or swerve from it upon penalty of being declared such
as the oath should import; and that his Majesty having so concluded,
ought to dispatch messengers to all parts of the kingdom, with
commission to take the oaths of such as were not there present, by
which means it would be known, who were willing to live and die in
the service of the king and state. And should anyone be so foolish
or impudent as to offer to take arms, let us all swear to fall upon
them; I warrant your Majesty I will take such order in these parts,
that nothing shall stir to the prejudice of your royal authority.
And in like manner let us engage by the faith we owe to God, that if
any Counter-League shall disclose itself, we will give your Majesty
immediate notice of it; and let your Majesty’s be subscribed by all
the great men of your kingdom. The feast will not be right without
them, and they also are easy to be persuaded to it, and the fittest to
provide against any inconvenience that may happen.”
This was my proposition, upon which several disputes ensued; but in
the end the King’s Association was concluded on, and it was agreed,
that all the Princes, great Lords, Governors of Provinces, and
Captains of Gens d’armes should renounce all Leagues and Confederacies
whatsoever, as well without as within the Kingdom, excepting that of
the King, and should take the oath upon pain of being declared rebels
to the crown; to which there were also other obligations added, which
I do not remember.... In the end all was past and concluded, and the
Princes began to take the oath, and to sign the articles.[907]
The weakness of the crown’s position in these circumstances is evident.
Recognizing its inability to crush these local associations and fearing
lest control of them would pass over wholly to the Guises, the crown
tried to save its power and its dignity by fusing them into a single
confederation under the King and forbidding the formation of future
associations without royal consent. But the power of the crown was
not commensurate with its show of authority. The leagues continued to
multiply and to remain independent of the crown’s coercion. In the year
1565 the situation is different in degree but not in kind from that
which existed in 1576 when the Holy League was formed.
Even the Spanish affiliations of the Holy League existed potentially
at this time through the treason of Montluc.[908] For the wily Gascon,
whose character was a combination of daring determination, religious
bigotry and envy, in recommending the measures he did was really taking
steps to cover up his own tracks. Montluc, despite his professions of
allegiance, was angry at the queen mother, and quite ready to knife her
in the dark. His heart was filled with rebellious envy of Vieilleville,
because the latter had been given a marshal’s bâton. Disappointed
in this expectation he asked for the post of colonel-general which
D’Andelot filled.[909] Instead Montluc had to be satisfied with the
office of governor of Guyenne, which he regarded as ill compensation
of his services.[910] In consequence of these grievances, even before
the recovery of Havre, Montluc had entered into correspondence with
Philip II, to whom he represented the necessity of Spanish intervention
in France, on account of the double danger by which France was
threatened through the purposes of the Protestants and Catherine de
Medici’s toleration of them. The Spanish King at first hesitated,
but soon availed himself of the opportunity thus afforded, for two
strings were better than one to his bow. Profound secrecy covered the
negotiations. Philip’s love of mystery and the delicacy of the matter
led him to conceal the plan even from his ambassador in France, and
operate through Bardaxi, a cousin of a Spanish captain of that name,
who had been pursued by the Inquisition and had fled to France, where
he sought service under Montluc in recompense of which he finally was
rehabilitated.[911] Montluc proposed the formation of a league between
the Pope, the Emperor, the Spanish King, and the leading Catholic
princes of Germany and Italy to avert a union of the Huguenots with
outside Protestant princes for the overthrow of the Catholic religion
in France.[912] He enlarged upon the moral “benefit” of such a league
to France, now ridden by the Huguenots to the imminent ruin of the
monarchy, and pointed out to Philip II the peculiar interest he had in
crushing Calvinism.[913] The plan was for Philip II to kidnap Jeanne
d’Albret who was to be given over to the Inquisition, and to seize
possession of Béarn, and thus accomplish two purposes at once—destroy
the hearth of Calvinism in France, and establish Spanish power north
of the Pyrenees.[914] Fortunately for France, the French ambassador at
Madrid, St. Sulpice, was informed of the plan, though he did not know
of Montluc’s treason, by a servant of the Spanish queen, and Catherine
de Medici’s energetic steps in the protection of Béarn nipped the
scheme in the bud.[915]
This joint plan of Montluc and Philip II for the seizure of Béarn
and the capture of its queen telescoped with another plot against her
to which Philip and Pope Pius IV were parties. On September 28, 1563,
a papal bull excommunicated the queen for heresy, and she was cited
before the Holy Office for trial.[916] To Catherine’s credit she at
once took a firm stand in favor of the queen of Navarre.[917]
It was not in the nature of Philip II to be daring in daylight.
Precaution was second nature to him. Lansac’s mission to Madrid
to protest against the action of Pius IV coincided with Montluc’s
overtures to the Spanish King. The discovery of part of the plan made
Philip timid about pushing it at all until a more favorable time at
least. Accordingly he gave Montluc little encouragement, save offering
him an asylum in Spain if events should compel him to quit France on
account of his treasonable correspondence,[918] while to Lansac he
said that “what the Pope had done against ‘Madame de Vendôme’ was
very inopportune and would be remedied.”[919] In a word, Philip II
dissembled his participation in the Pope’s conduct, asserting that
the procedure had been taken without his knowledge, and that while he
deplored the queen of Navarre’s apostasy he could not be unmindful of
the fact that she was kith and kin of the queen of Spain, his wife![920]
There probably was a certain amount of spite work in Philip’s
repudiation of the Pope at this time. One of the important political
issues raised at the Council of Trent was the question of precedence
between the ambassadors of France and Spain. Lansac, Charles IX’s
ambassador to the Council, claimed the honor of going before the
count of Lara, Spain’s representative, at which Philip was “picqué
oultre mesure.”[921] The papal party in vain implored Lansac to yield.
Lansac replied that “la France ne pouvait renoncer aux droits qui lui
avaient été reconnus dans tous les précédents conciles, et que, plutôt
que de laisser rien innover sur ce point, ‘j’étais résolu, selon le
commandement de mon maître, après avoir protesté de nullité de ce
concile, de m’en aller incontinent avec tous les prélats de notre
nation, sans entrer dans aucune dispute ne composition.’”[922] Philip
II refrained from making any observation to France upon the disputed
point[923] pending the decision of the Pope.[924] But such a course
was impossible. The contest over the question became the absorbing
topic of conversation at Rome.[925] The Pope was between Scylla and
Charybdis.[926] Spain claimed precedence for Philip II through the
crown of Castile—“chose peu véritable”—and argued that the services
of Philip II to the church justified her pretension; to which France
rejoined that her king was historically first son of the church, the
Most Christian King, who “had bled and suffered for the preservation of
the Catholic religion in his kingdom, for which he had combated to the
hazarding of his entire state.”[927] Finally being compelled to decide,
Pius IV made a choice in favor of France, to the immense chagrin of
Philip II who actually fell sick of the humiliation and recalled his
ambassador Vargas from Rome as a sign of his displeasure.[928]
The catalogue of Spain’s grievances against France, besides the
question of religion, the dispute over precedence, and France’s refusal
to accept the findings of Trent which Philip II had recognized[929]
included still another complaint. This was the border difficulty
between the Spanish provinces of Artois and Luxembourg, and France.
It was a complex question, partly religious, partly political, partly
commercial. Like the Huguenot rebellion, the growing insurrection in
the Low Countries was of a double nature—religious and political.
Each side looked to the other for sympathy and support and neither was
disappointed. The Huguenots retaliated for the assistance afforded the
government of France by Spain during the first civil war by aiding the
revolt of the Netherlands. This intimate connection of events on each
side of the line is an important fact to be observed.
It was in 1563, as Granvella had divined,[930] that the intrigues
of the French Protestants in Flanders became a matter of serious
apprehension. Valenciennes was the most aggressive city of the religion
in Flanders, and Margaret of Parma actually was afraid of Montigny
doing as Maligny had done at Havre. Already the prince of Orange was
the recognized leader of those who sympathized with the Huguenots.
To this class England’s support of the prince of Condé, and above
all, the assassination of the duke of Guise, came as a real stimulus.
Valenciennes, Tournay, Antwerp, even Brussels were stirred. In May,
1563, the demonstrations of the Calvinists at Valenciennes and Tournay
became so bold that it required six companies of infantry to keep
them overawed. But this measure, instead of accomplishing the result
expected, aggravated the situation, for the marquis de Berghes, the
commander, was so ostracized by the nobles, that he lost courage.
Philip II grew alarmed and wrote to his sister on June 13, 1563, that
the example of France counseled most drastic suppression. In reply
the regent and the cardinal Granvella implored Philip to come to the
Netherlands, but he pleaded ignorance of the language and poverty as
excuse. Meanwhile the Orange party practiced so successfully with the
duchess of Parma that she inclined toward conciliation instead of
coercion. This threw the regent and De Berghes into alignment, who
proposed to convoke the States-General to remedy the evils—a programme
which the nobles enthusiastically advocated.
The similarity between the Flemish movement and the programme of the
political Huguenots in France is very close.[931] With the design of
suppressing heresy in its two most active centers, Granvella proposed
to imitate the method used at Paris, of exacting a profession of faith
together with a pledge to observe the laws, of all citizens who wished
to stay in the city. Recalcitrants were to be disarmed, compelled to
sell their property, one-third of the proceeds of which was to be
confiscated for the support of the soldiers and municipal expenses, and
the culprits were then to be banished from the country. This drastic
policy called forth a mingled protest and threat from the prince of
Orange, whose wealth and German connections, aside from other qualities
he possessed, gave him great influence. The government begged for money
and troops, “como la liga va cresciendo.”[932] Orange’s tactics were
to persuade the provincial estates to refuse to vote subsidies or to
throw the weight of the finances upon the church much after the manner
of things done at Pontoise. This he began to do in Brabant where the
indefinite postponement of a grant of money provoked mutiny among
the soldiers. In September De Berghes went out from office, having
distinguished himself by not putting a single heretic to death. The
change was immediately followed by the burning alive of a Protestant
preacher and the protestations of the quartet, Orange, Hoorne, Egmont,
and Montigny, became bolder.[933] Finally the nobles of Flanders
resolved to protest to the King of Spain. Philip II, always hesitating
and undecided, did not respond. To a petition which was sent him
demanding the recall of the cardinal, he replied by a flat refusal. The
nobles showed their offense by absenting themselves from the Council
of State and used their influence to detach the regent from Granvella.
At last, after months of negotiation, Philip II yielded. Granvella
retired to his splendid palace at Besançon in Franche Comté and the
nobles resumed their seats in the council. But the four were irritated
at Philip II’s delay in responding to their demands for reform. It was
evident, moreover, by November, 1563, that something like a common
purpose actuated the chief provinces—Flanders, Artois, Holland,
Zealand, and Utrecht.[934]
The Calvinists were especially numerous in the Walloon provinces,
and preachers from Geneva and England were active among them. The
government undertook to restrain their assemblies, and the conflict
broke out. This conflict, it is important to remark, did not turn
upon the question of religion in and of itself, but upon the manner
of treating the heretics. Philip wanted to apply the edicts of his
father, which required the death penalty for heresy; but the government
and Spanish officials in the Low Countries, Catholics though they were,
were opposed to so severe a penalty and would rather have treated
those offending as criminals than as heretics. But with Philip the
extirpation of heresy was a question of conscience.
Valenciennes still remained the most prominent place of
disaffection,[935] but Brussels was much infected.[936] But more
formidable than local spirit was the marked tendency toward a union
of the provinces[937] and the growing interest of the Huguenots in
the Dutch and Flemish cause,[938] so much so that Cardinal Granvella
strongly hinted at Spanish pressure being forcibly exerted upon France
for the reduction of the Huguenots.[939] The cardinal hoped to see
Charles IX and his mother more docile in receiving the advice of Spain
since the withdrawal of Chantonnay, who was made Philip II’s ambassador
at Vienna. But the theft of Alava’s cipher by the Huguenots threw him
into despair.[940] The reciprocal connection between politics and
religion in France and the Low Countries made the Spanish government
watch the movement of events in France with vigilance.[941] So acute
was the situation owing to Huguenot sympathy with the cause of
insurrection across the border,[942] that although Granvella ridiculed
the wild rumor that Montgomery was coming to Flanders, he nevertheless
apprehended the possibility of a rupture with France and was relieved
to know that precautions had been taken against any chance enterprise
of the Huguenots along the edge of Artois and Hainault.[943]
Margaret of Parma and the nobles sent ambassadors to Spain to ask
concession on two points: (1) that the provinces be governed by
native officials; (2) that the punishment of heresy be moderated. The
King hesitated long. It was not until October 17, 1565, that he gave
decisive pronouncement in dispatches issued from Segovia. In them he
ordered the maintenance of the Inquisition, the enforcement of the
edicts, and the impoverishment of those who resisted. In a word, Philip
II would not yield. The discontent against the administration of the
King of Spain now turned against the King himself. William of Orange
used the notable words, “We are witnessing the beginning of a great
tragedy.”
In the face of the growing resistance the duke of Alva strongly advised
Philip II to convert the towns into fortresses.[944] For the Flemish
cities were, as yet, commercial groups, not fortified burgs. With the
possible exception of Gravelines, no one of them was capable of making
a sustained defense.
This suggestion happened to coincide with the English occupation
of Havre-de-Grace and the possible return of Calais to England in
return therefor. Such a contingency could but be viewed with anxiety
by Spain,[945] and this fact, coupled with the uncertainty of
developments in France induced Philip to follow out Alva’s suggestion
by strengthening Gravelines. France at once became alarmed over Calais
and protested in the same breath against the building of fortifications
at Gravelines and the duty upon her wines.[946] In retaliation the
French government also strengthened the garrisons on the edge of
Picardy, under the direction of the prince of Condé (who was governor
of the province), to the immense indignation of Spain.[947] The
Spanish erections around Gravelines reacted also upon the state of
things in Flanders. For new and heavier taxation was the indispensable
point of departure for carrying out such measures, “unless one were
willing to see everything said upon the subject vanish in smoke.”
The sole effective remedy for the state of things prevailing in the
Flemish provinces was, of course, to reorganize the finances and the
administration of justice in accordance with the demands made by the
nobles. But instead of attempting to do this, the government aimed to
weaken the opposition by dividing the leaders, and the long silence of
Philip II covered an attempt to draw away Egmont, who was regarded as
the ringleader of the Flemish nobles at this time.[948] The Spanish
government dreaded to summon the estates, as Orange insisted should be
done, for fear of things in Brabant and the other provinces going the
road of things in France under like conditions.[949]
In order, therefore, to provide for funds without asking the estates to
vote subsidies, over which there was sure to be a conflict, the Spanish
government in the Netherlands undertook to raise the needed money
by tariffs. The cloth trade of England and the wine trade of France
were the two commodities so taxed. In 1563 a duty was laid on French
wine.[950] In the case of England, the excuse given for the high duty
placed on imported cloth was precaution against the plague.[951] France
at once protested against the tariff and threatened to retaliate by
taxing the herring and cod trade, though the Spanish ambassador at
Paris represented that such action would entirely destroy the wine
trade and would compel reprisal.[952]
Flemish merchants were doubly alarmed at the state of things, for
England, too, threatened reprisal by removing the cloth market from
Antwerp to Embden and imposing tonnage duties on merchant ships of
Flanders driven by stress of weather into English ports for safety
during storm.[953] But the government in Flanders was obdurate.
Granvella declared England’s threat to remove the staple to Embden
to be “puerile rhodomontade.” He believed that not only would the
prohibition against the import of English cloth compel Elizabeth
to redress the grievances of Spanish subjects against England, but
that it might even make the English government more lenient toward
the Catholic religion. Furthermore, he argued, the tax would operate
like a protective tariff to stimulate the manufacture of cloth in
the Low Countries. “If not a single bolt of English cloth ever comes
into Flanders again,” he wrote “it will be to the permanent profit
of the Pays-Bas. We saw this clearly last year during the plague
when the prohibition having temporarily suspended the importation of
this kind of goods, there was manufactured in the single county of
Flanders 60,000 pieces of cloth, or more than the sum total of the
three preceding years.”[954] In the case of French wines the Flemish
government even established a maximum law for their sale which cut the
throat of French merchants worse than ever.[955] The French government
carried the action of the Flemish government up to Madrid, where for
months the duty on wine and the buttresses of Gravelines were matters
of repeated interviews between St. Sulpice and the King, and were still
unsettled questions at the time of the conference at Bayonne.[956]
Meanwhile the conflict of the Flemish reform party became more acute
because it became complicated with the question of religion.
In the light of all these circumstances, it is no wonder that Philip II
hesitated long before giving his consent to an interview with Catherine
de Medici.[957] Even then he imposed a number of conditions and
regulations. He would not go in person to Bayonne—the place appointed;
his wife was to be accompanied by the duke of Alva; display was to
be avoided by either side both for motives of economy and to prevent
having undue political significance attached to an interview which
was to be understood to be purely personal. Philip II’s most striking
regulations, however, were those which had to do with the French
_entourage_. No one in the least tainted with heresy was to accompany
the court. The queen of Navarre, whom the Spanish King carefully
alluded to as “Madame de Vendôme,” the prince of Condé, the admiral,
and the cardinal Châtillon were specifically named with abhorrence. The
queen mother acquiesced in this prohibition, save in the case of the
prince of Condé, protesting that, on account of his rank, it would give
great offense to forbid his presence, as well as create belief among
the Huguenots that the meeting contemplated something disadvantageous
to them. History has shown that Catherine’s instincts were perfectly
right in this particular; since after the massacre of St. Bartholomew
the Huguenots—indeed almost the whole Protestant world—jumped to the
conclusion that that disaster was preconcerted at Bayonne. In vain St.
Sulpice argued political expediency, saying France and Spain must not
be judged alike, and that “experience had proved that the way of arms
had resulted in more dangers than profit to France.” Philip II’s answer
was metallically hard; he would not consent to the presence either of
Jeanne d’Albret or the prince of Condé at Bayonne, because it would be
a reproach to him and to Spain for his wife to have had converse with a
heretic.[958]
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:
“Madame, who knows better than yourself?”
“The King, your master,” said Catherine ironically, “knows better than
I everything that passes in France. What means would he employ to
overcome the rebellious Protestants?”
Alva resorted to the Socratic method, hoping to involve the queen in
the toils of argument.
“Has the religion gained or lost since the peace of Amboise?” he
inquired insidiously.
“It has gained,” replied she.
The answer, in Spain’s eyes, was a condemnation of the policy of
France; it was a thorn in the road of the queen’s ambitious hopes
of marriage alliance. In her exasperation, Catherine upbraided her
daughter for out-Spaniarding the Spaniard.
“I am a Spaniard, I admit,” said Elizabeth. “ It is my duty.”[975]
Catherine broached anew the possibility of Philip II consenting to have
his sister marry her Benjamin—Henry duke of Orleans—and conferring
Artois as dowry upon the pair.
“The king would never consent to sacrifice one of his provinces,” said
Alva brusquely.
“But to give a Spanish province to the duke of Orleans,” argued the
queen mother, blinded by maternal affection, “would be the same then as
giving it to his own brother.”
Alva taxed the queen with maintaining a heretic, L’Hôpital, in the
chancellorship, and of opposing the Tridentine decrees. Catherine
emphatically denied the first charge, although her daughter again
supported Alva’s indictment by declaring that even during the life of
her father, L’Hôpital had passed for a Huguenot; as to the second,
she said the crown of France objected to the political application
of certain findings of the Council of Trent, which she hoped to have
adjusted. Alva saw the vulnerable point in her reply and inquired if
she aimed to call another assembly like the Colloquy of Poissy.
“I recognize the danger of such assemblies,” said Catherine, “but the
king, my son, is strong enough to compel discussion only of those
subjects which he may designate.”
“Was it so at Poissy?” sneered Alva.
The queen’s reply was a tirade against the cardinal of Lorraine, whom
she blamed for the failure of the colloquy.
In the end there _was_ a promise given by the queen mother at Bayonne.
But it was verbal, not written, and so governed by circumstances that
the edge of Spain’s intentions was dulled. Compromising the agreement
certainly was; convicting it is not, for, aside from the fact that
its fulfilment was dependent upon an impossible condition of things,
Catherine never permitted herself to express in writing what the terms
of this promise were. Our knowledge of it is dependent upon Alva’s
letters of June 15 and July 4; upon Philip II’s construction of it in
a letter addressed by him to the cardinal Pacheco[976] on August 24,
1565, and the dispatch of the Venetian ambassador Suriano, who was
with the French queen, to the senate on July 22, supplemented by what
information St. Sulpice picked up during the last days of his mission
in Spain.
It is evident from the careful reading of these documents that the real
triumph at Bayonne was scored by the papacy; that Spain won a sterile
victory, and France met an indecisive defeat. Spain and France, being
unable to carry their own purpose through as each desired, compromised
on a course which was an intermediate plane of agreement to them, but
which, _according to the letter_, was a supreme triumph for Rome, and
would have been a complete victory for Rome _if the terms had ever been
executed_. The man of the hour was the cardinal Santa Croce, nuncio in
France. His services are thus reported by the Venetian ambassador in
France on July 2:
On the eve of departure, the queen, perceiving the discontent of the
duke of Alva, summoned the nuncio, who was not far away, to Bayonne,
in order to have him at hand. It is he who has found a solution; he
has satisfied both parties. I shall be able to inform you shortly as
to the nature of his solution.[977]
Three weeks later (July 22) the promised word was sent to Venice in
the form of a cipher dispatch,[978] the information in which had been
communicated to him in strictest secrecy.[979] This intensely important
document reads as follows:
Now that I have received positive information, I shall tell everything
to your Signory that has happened. Since his arrival, the duke of Alva
has not ceased to urge the queen to give his master a manifestation of
her good will toward the cause of religion by some manifest act, and
he had urged her to cause the decisions of the Council of Trent to be
observed throughout the whole realm of France, for which his Catholic
majesty would show his satisfaction. The queen had yielded readily
to this proposition and had told him that she was very inclined to
convene an assembly of prelates, of theologians, and savants, to
examine the decisions made at Trent, _without occupying themselves
with doctrine_, but confining themselves to the reform of abuses. The
duke had found this offer strange and had not concealed his discontent
over it. According to him, this was to oppose a council to a council,
which would be the worst of results and mightily displease the king
his master. Since he urged the necessity of this measure, before
passing to any other consideration, and was so obdurate, the queen,
being very pained to see him depart so unsatisfied, and things being
so desperate, notified the nuncio, who was not lodged at Bayonne
like all the ambassadors, and ordered the _mareschal de logis_ of
the palace to prepare accommodation for him and to have him come
immediately. He came at once and being informed by the queen, went to
find the duke, but was very badly received by him. The duke blamed
and reproached him for not remaining firm in his opinion. The queen
holding to the idea of this assembly of prelates and theologians, and
the duke opposing it, the nuncio found another expedient which seemed
to give satisfaction to all. He broached it to the queen, and with
her consent communicated it to the duke. This remedy, at the twelfth
hour, was very opportune. It is this: This assembly shall be held:
but under certain conditions. The first is that the persons chosen to
participate in it shall be of such influence as to be able to demand
that no Huguenot shall sit in it; secondly, the assembly must conform
to that which the queen had at first proposed; that is to say, all
disputes over dogma and doctrine shall be forbidden. The queen, having
accepted this, authorized the nuncio to communicate her consent to the
duke, who showed himself satisfied. Both of them then came together
to find the queen again, and on the next day, in the presence of the
queen of Spain, the cardinal Bourbon, the marshal Bourdillon, and the
leading nobles, the whole was confirmed.
Great benefit can come from this: by eliminating everything that
pertains to dogma, and avoiding doctrinal difficulties, all the
other resolutions which are of less importance will be strengthened,
especially as the Huguenots, the only ones who can give trouble will
be excluded. There is no doubt about both the king and the queen being
disposed to the Catholic religion, since they have given proofs of
it. I am, moreover, assured by what the queen has said, that there
is no intention to touch any of the privileges of the Holy See, nor,
per contra, any of the concessions made by the popes to the kings who
were predecessors of the king now reigning. The execution of this
convention thus arranged is not to take place until the return of the
king to Paris.
The King of Spain, in the letter cited to Cardinal Pacheco, expressed
his contentment with this agreement,[980] not perceiving that the
application of it was capable of a great amount of flexibility. In his
blindness he thought that the nuncio had broken the loaf so as to give
the greater portion to Spain; while in reality the greater part was in
the hands of the Pope, Philip II having actually but the difference
between a fragment and no bread. In fine, no plot was entered into
at Bayonne; no crime was ever committed in pursuance of an agreement
arranged there. The “plot” agreed upon at Bayonne between Catherine
de Medici and Philip II of Spain consisted of an ambiguous promise,
the fulfilment of which was dependent upon an impossible condition of
things.[981]
The affair of Bayonne was not a crime; it was a colossal blunder. The
destruction of the ambitious marriage expectations of the Valois was
the least loss. The irreparable thing was that France forfeited the
confidence of her Protestant subjects. The secrecy that enveloped
the conference made the Huguenots apprehensive of the worst. They
believed that a Franco-Spanish alliance was made at Bayonne for their
overwhelming; and the second civil war was the outcome of their
misgivings.[982] And when finally, _for other reasons_, the massacre
of St. Bartholomew befell them, not merely Protestant France but
Protestant Europe was convinced that the false hypothesis had been
demonstrated. The count Hector la Ferrière admirably summarizes the
situation:
To maintain and loyally to adhere to the edict of pacification; to
open to the daring sailors of France the Indies and America, which
Spain and Portugal were endeavoring to close to them; and finally to
rally Catholics and Protestants under the same banner against the
foreigner—this was the only true French policy. The Spaniard at this
time was the enemy of France. She encountered him everywhere in her
path; at Rome, at Vienna, at the Council of Trent he disputed her
precedence; in Switzerland by gold and by the menaces of his agents he
interfered with the renewals of the French treaties with the Catholic
cantons; at the very time when Catherine and Elizabeth of Valois were
exchanging false promises of alliance and friendship, Menendez was
sailing for Florida, bearing orders for the massacre of all the French
found there.[983]