FRANCIS THE SECOND AND THE TUMULT OF AMBOISE.
[Sidenote: The victims breathe more freely.]
[Sidenote: Epigrams on the death of Henry.]
The plans carefully matured by Henry for the suppression of the reformed
doctrines were disarranged by his sudden death. The expected victims of
the Spanish Inquisition, which he was to have established in France,
breathed more freely. It was not wonderful that the "Calvinists,"
according to an unfriendly historian, preached of the late monarch's
fate as miraculous, and magnified it to their advantage;[729] for they
saw in it an interposition of the Almighty in their behalf, as signal as
any illustrating the Jewish annals. Epigrams of no little merit were
composed on the event, and were widely circulated. One likened the lance
of Montgomery to the stone from David's sling, which became "the
unexpected salvation of the saints."[730] In another, Henry is the
soldier who pierces the Crucified through the side of those whom He
styles His members; but the impious weapon--such is Heaven's avenging
decree--shall be stained with the murderer's own blood.[731] These
verses, and others like them, obtaining great currency, offended the
ears of the late king's favorites and of the devoted adherents of the
Roman Catholic Church, who ceased not for years to pour forth
lamentations over the untimely death of Henry the Second, and the
ill-starred peace with which it was so closely connected.[732]
[Sidenote: The young king.]
From the hands of a monarch in the prime of life, the sceptre had passed
into those of a stripling of sixteen, who was unfortunately endowed
neither with his grandfather's intellect nor with his father's vigor of
body; but who inherited the enfeebled mental and physical constitution
which was, perhaps, the result of the excesses of both. Although married
to the beautiful Queen of Scots, some time before his father's reign
came to its tragic conclusion, Francis the Second exhibited few of the
instincts of a man and of a king, and showed himself to be even more of
a minor in intelligence than in years. Content to leave the cares of
government to his favorites, he sought only for repose and pleasure. Yet
in this, as has been the case in more than one other instance, the most
turbulent lot fell to him who would gladly have chosen quiet and sloth.
[Sidenote: Fall of the constable's power.]
With Henry's last breath, the supremacy of Constable Montmorency in the
councils of state came to an end. In view of the minority of the
successor to the throne, two measures were dictated by the customs of
the realm--the appointment of the nearest prince of royal blood as
regent, and the immediate convocation of the States General to confirm
the selection, and to assign to the regent a competent council of
state.[733] Unfortunately for the interests of France during the
succeeding half-century, there were powerful personages interested in
opposing this most natural and just arrangement, and there were specious
excuses behind which their ambitious designs might shelter themselves.
The Cardinal of Lorraine and the Duke of Guise, with the queen mother,
maintained that Francis was in all respects competent to rule; that he
had already passed the age at which previous kings had assumed the reins
of government; that the laws had prescribed the time from which the
majority of subjects, not of the monarch, should be reckoned;[734]
that, if too young himself to bear the entire burden of the
administration, he could delegate his authority to those of his own kin
in whom he reposed implicit confidence. There was, therefore, no
necessity for establishing a regency, still less for assembling the
States General--an impolitic step even in the most quiet times, but
fraught with special peril when grave dissensions threaten the kingdom.
[Sidenote: Catharine de' Medici assumes an important part.]
With the advent of her eldest son to the throne, Catharine de' Medici
first assumed a prominent position, although not an all-controlling
influence at court. During the reign of Francis the First she had
enjoyed little consideration. Her marriage with Henry, in 1533, had
given, as we have seen, little satisfaction to the people, who believed
that her kinsman, Pope Clement the Seventh, had deceived the king; and
Francis himself, disappointed in his ambitious designs by the pontiff's
speedy death, looked upon her with little favor. For several years she
had borne no children, and Henry was urged to put her away on the ground
of barrenness. Nor was she more happy when her prayers had been
answered, and a family of four sons and three daughters blessed her
marriage. Her husband's infatuation respecting Diana of Poitiers
embittered her life when dauphiness, and compelled her as queen to
tolerate the presence of the king's mistress, and pay her an insincere
respect. Excluded from all participation in the control of affairs, she
fawned upon power where her ambitious nature would have sought to rule.
Concealing her chagrin beneath an exterior of contentment, she
exhibited, if we may believe the Venetian Soranzo, such benignity of
disposition, especially to her own countrymen, that it would be
impossible to convey an idea of the love entertained for her both by the
court and by the entire kingdom.[735]
[Sidenote: Her timidity and dissimulation.]
[Sidenote: She dismisses Diana of Poitiers.]
Hypocrisy is the vice of timid natures. Such, we have the authority of a
contemporary, and one who knew her well, for stating the nature of
Catharine was.[736] In her, however, dissimulation was a well-known
family trait, which she possessed in common with her kinsman, Pope Leo
the Tenth, and all her house.[737] And it must be admitted that the
idiosyncrasy had had a fair chance to develop during the five-and-twenty
years she had spent in France, threatened with repudiation, contemned as
an Italian upstart, suffering the gravest insult at the hands of her
husband, but forced to dissemble, and to hide the pain his neglect gave
her from the eyes of the curious world. Nor was her position altogether
an easy one even now. It is true that her womanly revenge was gratified
by the instant dismissal of the Duchess of Valentinois, who, if she
retained the greater part of her ill-gotten wealth, owed it to the joint
influence of Lorraine and Guise, whose younger brother, the Duke of
Aumale, had married Diana's daughter.[738] But her ambitious plan, while
securing the authority of her children, to rule herself, was likely to
be frustrated by the pretensions of the two families of Montmoreney and
Guise, raised by the late monarch to inordinate power in the state, and
by the claim to the regency which Antoine of Bourbon-Vendome, King of
Navarre, might justly assert. To establish herself in opposition to all
these, her sagacity taught her was impossible. To prevail by allying
herself to the most powerful and those from whom she could extort the
best terms seemed to be the most politic course. Her choice was quickly
made. It was unfortunate for France that her prudence partook more of
the character of low cunning than of true wisdom, and that, in seeking
a temporary ascendancy, she neglected the true interests of her own
children and of the kingdom they inherited.
[Sidenote: Her alliance with the Guises.]
In order to prevent the convocation of the States and the appointment of
the King of Navarre as regent, but one course appeared to be open to
Catharine: she must throw herself into the arms of the Guises. Only thus
could she become free from the odious dictation of the constable, under
which she had groaned during her husband's reign. The Guises had had a
narrow escape, it was said; for Henry the Second, having tardily
discovered the insatiable ambition of the Lorraine family, had
definitely made up his mind to banish them from court.[739] Now availing
themselves of the great influence of their niece, Mary Stuart, over her
royal husband, the duke and the cardinal prepared, by a bold stroke, to
become masters of the administration, and made to Catharine such liberal
offers of power that she readily acquiesced in their plans.
Of their formidable rivals, the King of Navarre was at a distance, in
the south. The constable alone was dangerously near. But an immemorial
custom furnished a convenient excuse for setting him aside. The body of
the deceased monarch must lie in state for the forty days previous to
its interment, under protection of a guard of honor selected from among
his most trusty servants. Upon Montmorency, as grand master of the
palace, devolved the chief care of his late Majesty's remains.[740]
Delighted to have their principal rival so well occupied, the cardinal
and the duke hastened from the Tournelles to secure the person of the
living monarch.
[Sidenote: The Guises make themselves masters of the king.]
When the delegates of the parliaments of France came, a few days later,
to congratulate Francis on his accession, and inquired to whom they
should henceforth address themselves, the programme was already fully
arranged. The king had been well drilled in his little speech. He had,
he said, committed the direction of the state to the hands of his two
uncles, and desired the same obedience to be shown to them as to
himself.[741]
[Sidenote: The court fool's sensible remark.]
The Cardinal of Lorraine was intrusted with the civil administration and
the finances. His brother became head of the department of war, without
the title, but with the full powers, of constable.[742] Of royalty
little was left Francis but the empty name.[743] There was sober truth
lurking beneath the saucy remark of Brisquet, the court fool, who told
Francis that in the time of his Majesty's father he used to put up at
the "_Crescent_," but at present he lodged at the "_Three Kings_!"[744]
[Sidenote: Montmorency retires to his own estates,]
Montmorency did, indeed, attempt resistance to the assumption of
absolute authority which the Guises thus appropriated rather than
received from the young monarch. But he was equally unsuccessful in
influencing Francis and the queen mother. The former, when the constable
waited upon him in the Louvre, according to one story, scarcely deigned
to look at him;[745] but, according to a more trustworthy account,
received him with a show of cordiality, and assured him that he would
maintain his sons and his nephews, the Chatillons, in the dignities they
had attained under previous kings; at the same time, however, adding
that, in compassion for the constable's age and long services, he had
determined to relieve him of his onerous charges, and to give him full
liberty to retire to his estates and obtain needful rest and diversion!
Montmorency was too much of a courtier to be taken unawares, and
promptly replied that he had come expressly to beg as a favor what the
king so graciously offered him.[746] Catharine, to whom he next paid his
respects, was less friendly, and, indeed, told him bluntly that, if she
were to do her duty, he would lose his head for his insolence to her and
her children.[747] Meantime Montmorency had fared no better in his
negotiations with Antoine of Bourbon-Vendome. The latter had not
forgotten the little account made in the treaty of Cateau-Cambresis of
his wife's claim upon Spanish Navarre, and was indisposed to form a
close alliance with the chief negotiator. He preferred, he said, to
stand aloof from a movement intended only to ruin "his cousins of
Guise."[748]
[Sidenote: where he maintains almost regal magnificence.]
The prudent old warrior, long since accustomed to the most startling
vicissitudes, determined to bid adieu for a time to the royal court, and
to retire to Chantilly, one of his paternal estates, where, in close
proximity to the capital, he was accustomed to maintain an almost regal
magnificence.[749] So powerful a nobleman, the representative of a
family which, from its antiquity and neighboring greatness, was held in
special esteem by the Parisians, among the wealthiest of whom it boasted
of having two thousand persons its tenants,[750] could not safely be
attacked. Accordingly, Montmorency, after having faithfully performed
his duty as grand master, and deposited the remains of Henry in the
abbey church of St. Denis, returned home with so numerous and powerful a
retinue, that the king's appeared but small in comparison.[751]
[Sidenote: Decided measures of the new favorites.]
The power thus boldly seized by the cardinal and duke was energetically
wielded. The partisans of the constable were at once removed from all
offices of trust, and devoted adherents of the house of Lorraine were
substituted. It was not difficult, if we may believe the historian of
this reign, to bring the parliaments into similar subjection. The system
of venality introduced by Cardinal Duprat had so corrupted the highest
courts of justice that they had lost all traces of their former noble
independence. The sons of usurers sat in places which had been occupied
by the most distinguished jurisconsults of the kingdom, and so debased
the administration of law that, in the eye of a contemporary,
parliament had become a den of robbers.[752] Marshal de St. Andre made
proposals, which were accepted, to form an offensive and defensive
alliance with the Guises, promising to give his only daughter in
marriage to a member of that family, and to settle upon her the immense
property which he had accumulated during the last reign by extortion and
confiscations, retaining for himself only the life interest.[753] In
order to rid the court of the princes of the blood, Conde was sent on a
mission to Flanders, to confirm the peace, and the Prince of
La-Roche-sur-Yon and the Cardinal of Bourbon were deputed to accompany
Princess Elizabeth, Philip's bride, to the Spanish frontier.[754]
[Sidenote: Antoine of Bourbon, King of Navarre.]
[Sidenote: His remissness and pusillanimity.]
[Sidenote: His desire to be indemnified for Navarre.]
Meanwhile the eyes not only of the reformers, who had no more inveterate
enemies than the Guises, but also of the friends of order, whatever
their creed might be, were anxiously directed to Antoine, King of
Navarre. His younger brother, Conde, his cousin, La Roche-sur-Yon, and
other great nobles came to meet him at Vendome, and set forth the
disastrous consequences not only to them, but to their children and to
the entire kingdom, that would certainly follow the base surrender of
the government into the hands of foreigners.[755] Earnestly was he
reminded of his undeniable claim to the regency, and entreated to
dispossess the usurpers. Nor did the weak prince openly disregard the
prayers of the ministers and people, who begged him to view his
deliverance from so many perils as intended not merely to advance his
own personal interests, but to secure the welfare of those whose tenets
he had at heart espoused. But, where vigorous and instantaneous action
was requisite, he exhibited only supineness and delay. His manly body
contained a womanish soul.[756] His intimate counsellors were already
in the secret pay of the Guises, and, in return for the large rewards
promised,[757] disclosed every movement and plan of their master, while
they gave him such advice as was calculated to render all his
undertakings abortive.[758] When, after long hesitation, he at length
left for St. Germain, he advanced slowly and by short stages,
intimidated by the example of the treason of the Constable of Bourbon,
in the reign of Francis the First, of the consequences of which the
agents of his enemies did not fail frequently to remind him, and
apprehensive of the intentions of Philip upon his small principality of
Bearn.[759] It is true that at Poitiers, where he was waited upon by a
large deputation of ministers from Paris, Orleans, Tours, and other
principal cities, and urged, by renouncing the mass and openly espousing
the cause of God, to fulfil the expectations of the persecuted faithful,
he returned a favorable reply, and declared that, if he still conformed
to an idolatry which he abhorred, it was in order not to lose the only
means of being serviceable to them. The sturdy men, who admitted no
compromises in matters of conscience, and had for years been exposing
their bodies to the peril of the flames or gibbet, manfully replied
that, if he would find God propitious, he must not endeavor to make his
own terms with Him; and that his own experience of divine protection
ought to prevent him from temporizing.[760] To Henry Killigrew, who came
to meet him at Vendome with a friendly message from Queen Elizabeth, he
spoke with more definiteness and volunteered the expression of the most
pious intentions. He declared "that he thought that God had hitherto
preserved her Majesty from so many dangers for the setting forth of His
word; and, he trusted, had done the like by him, in having preserved
him from many perils; and how desirous he was to set forth religion as
much as was in him; which he wished might be for the quiet, and setting
forth of God's glory through Christendom (which he minded for his part)
and to the discouragement of such as should stand in contrary."[761] But
the hopes which Antoine thus held forth were delusive. The trusty agent
of the Guises had already notified them that, so far as he could learn,
Navarre's principal desire was to be cordially received by the king and
his council, in order that the Spanish visitors at Paris might carry
home to their master so favorable a report that Philip, convinced that
Antoine was no insignificant personage in France,[762] _might condescend
to indemnify him for the wrong he had done him_![763]
[Sidenote: Is received at court with studied discourtesy.]
[Sidenote: Antoine is deaf to remonstrance.]
But if the King of Navarre expected to make any deep impression upon the
subjects of Philip through the friendly reception which he thus
solicited by the most craven abasement, his arrival at St.
Germain-en-Laye speedily undeceived him. Francis, instead of meeting him
on his approach, in accordance with the customary rules of royal
courtesy, and entertaining him graciously as they rode side by side to
the palace, was purposely taken in an opposite direction on a hunting
excursion. Humiliated by this neglect, the adherents of Navarre were
still more annoyed when they found that no chamber had been set apart in
the castle for the first prince of the blood, to whom immemorial usage
conceded the apartments next to those of the reigning monarch. But
neither these insults, nor the contemptuous treatment he received at the
hands of the courtiers, by whom he was compelled to make every advance,
were sufficient to arouse the prince to any noble resolution.[764] To
regain the kingdom of which, by his marriage with Jeanne d'Albret, he
had become the titular sovereign, was the great ambition of his life.
This was impracticable without the support of the French court. He could
not, therefore, afford to break with the all-powerful Guises. What were
the prerogatives of the first prince of the blood in the administration
of the French government, in comparison with the absolute sovereignty of
the little kingdom on either slope of the Pyrenees? In vain did his
faithful attendants remonstrate with him, and portray the path of honor
as that of ultimate success and safety. Disgusted at his unmanly
weakness, they returned crestfallen to their homes, or threw up his
service for that of noblemen who, if ancient enemies, could at least
prove themselves valuable and trustworthy patrons. The partisans of the
Reformation, after waiting fruitlessly to hear a single word uttered in
behalf of the churches, now everywhere rapidly multiplying, but still
subjected to bitter persecution, disappointed, but full of faith in God,
renounced their trust in princes, and awaited a deliverance, in Heaven's
own time, from a higher source. Theodore Beza cited Navarre's shameful
fall as a new and signal illustration of our Lord's own words: "A rich
man shall hardly enter into the kingdom of heaven!"[765]
[Sidenote: Meets fresh indignities.]
[Sidenote: Philip offers Catharine assistance.]
[Sidenote: Antoine's appeals to Philip II.]
But the abasement of this irresolute prince was not yet complete.
Submitting to the open contempt in which he was held, he not only took
part in the solemn ceremony of the new king's anointing at Rheims,[766]
where his inferiors were preferred to him, but attended the meetings of
the royal council, where he was little wanted. At one of these sessions
a fresh indignity was put upon him. Alarmed by the rising murmurs
against the illegal rule of the Guises, Catharine had taken the first of
a series of disgraceful steps, by invoking the intervention of a foreign
prince in the affairs of France. She implored her royal son-in-law of
Spain to lend her his support against the King of Navarre and other
princes, who were desirous of "reducing her to the condition of a
chambermaid," and of disturbing an otherwise peaceful country. Philip
replied by an offer of his own assistance and of forty thousand men whom
he professed to hold in readiness for a campaign against the rebels that
meditated the overthrow of the French monarchy. The letter of his
Catholic Majesty was purposely read in full council, in the hearing of
Navarre. But, instead of arousing his indignation, it only excited new
fears for the safety of his wife's dominions, and made him more
submissively kiss the rod of iron with which the Guises ruled him.[767]
Soon afterward he returned to Bearn, whence he made, before the close of
the year, two ineffectual attempts to move the inflexible determination
of Philip. In October he sent to the court of Spain Pierre, the Bastard
of Navarre, who obtained the promise of an equivalent for Navarre, but
was unable to secure any decided answer to his request for the island of
Sardinia. But when, in December, Antoine despatched a second messenger,
at the suggestion of the Duke of Albuquerque, to solicit permission for
himself and Queen Jeanne to visit the King of Spain and "kiss his
[Philip's] hand," with the view of obtaining such "an indemnity for his
kingdom as some secret injunction of the emperor [Charles the Fifth],
toward the end of his days, or his own conscience" might have suggested,
the unfortunate prince discovered in how base and humiliating a manner
he had been duped. It was not worth his while--such was the rude
reply--for Antoine to expose his wife and himself to the fatigue of so
long a journey, since no other answer could be given him than that which
had been given to his predecessors, and to himself on the occasion of
the late treaty of peace.[768] Was it with the expectation of such
rewards that the first prince of the blood had pusillanimously declined
to assert the rights of his rank and family, and to espouse the cause of
the persecuted?
[Sidenote: The persecution continues.]
For persecuted the Protestants continued to be. The death of Henry did
not for an instant interrupt the work of searching for and punishing
reputed heretics. The brief term must be improved, during which the
Spaniards and other strangers who had come to witness the marriage
festivities were still present, to fulfil the promises given to the
Dukes of Alva and Savoy, and demonstrate the catholicity of the Very
Christian King.[769] Three days after the fatal termination of Henry's
wound in the tournament, the English ambassador wrote to his government:
"In the midst of all these great matters and business, they here do not
stay to make persecution and sacrifice of poor souls: for the twelfth of
this present, two men and one woman were executed for religion; and the
thirteenth of the same there was proclamation made by the sound of
trumpet, that all such as should speak either against the church or the
religion now used in France should be brought before the bishops of the
dioceses, and they to do execution upon them."[770] On the fourteenth of
July, only four days after Henry's death, new steps were taken to bring
to trial the five counsellors of parliament arrested on the day of the
famous "Mercuriale." An account of these proceedings, and in particular
of those instituted against Anne du Bourg, will presently be given.
[Sidenote: Denunciation and treachery at Paris.]
The increase of the Protestants in France during the past few months had
been great. Even in the capital the progress of the new doctrines could
not be hidden; but so carefully had the veil of secrecy been drawn over
the conventicles, that, until a short time before Henry's death, the
names and residences of the Parisian reformers had been almost entirely
unknown to the argus-eyed clergy. But the treachery of one De
Russanges--a goldsmith, who, for appropriating the charitable
contributions of the church, had been deposed from the
eldership--furnished to the enemy a complete list of the ministers,
elders, and other principal men among the Protestants.[771] The
information thus obtained was for a time left unimproved, in consequence
of the sudden removal of the king; but the zeal of the chief persecutors
had not cooled down. New and more stringent edicts were published,
consigning to the flames, without form of process, all that made or
attended conventicles. Liberal rewards were offered to stimulate
denunciation. Domiciliary visits were enjoined upon the proper officers.
Extraordinary powers were given to the "lieutenant-criminel" and a few
of the counsellors of the Chatelet, known to be inimical to the "new
doctrines," to act during the recess of parliament. It was even ordained
by letters-patent of the king, that the very houses in which unlawful
assemblages had taken place by night and the Lord's Supper had been
profanely administered contrary to the rites of the Roman Catholic
Church, should be razed to the ground, and never rebuilt, as a memorial
for all time.[772] The church followed the example of the civil power.
The parishes resounded with excommunications of all that failed to
reveal the heretical sentiments of their acquaintance, and with
exhortations to watchfulness.[773] Parliament itself had lent its
authority to the inquisitorial work, by enjoining upon owners or
occupants of houses in the city or suburbs "to make diligent inquiry as
to the good and Christian life" of such as lodged with them. In
particular they were to inform against such as did not attend upon
divine worship in the churches, especially upon feast-days.[774]
[Sidenote: Other informers.]
[Sidenote: "La petite Geneve" a scene of pillage.]
Meanwhile, to De Russanges other informers were added. One was a weak
and unstable man whom persecution had once before--in the famous year of
the Placards--driven to the basest of offices. Among others two
apprentices, brought forward to testify against the Protestant employers
who had dismissed them, were pliant instruments in the hands of the
heretic-hunters. By a well-concerted movement a simultaneous descent was
made, and entire families were put under arrest.[775] In some places,
however, an unexpected resistance was encountered. The guests of one
Visconte, with whom travellers from Switzerland and Germany frequently
lodged, supposed the house to be attacked by robbers, and defended
themselves with such bravery against their assailants, that they
effected their retreat in safety. Their host's wife and his aged father
alone were taken into custody. A dressed capon and some uncooked meat
found in the larder--it was on a Friday that the incursion was
made--graced the triumph of the captors. "Little Geneva," as that
portion of the Faubourg St. Germain-des-Pres most frequented by
Protestants was familiarly called, became a scene of indiscriminate
pillage. The valuables of those who, through fear, had absented
themselves, were greedily appropriated by the officials of the Chatelet
and other courts, or fell into the hands of an unorganized force of
robbers who gleaned what the others had left behind. In a day the rich
became poor and the poor became rich. The depredations extended to other
parts of the city where the existence of heresy or wealth was suspected.
Paris, we are told, resembled a city taken by assault. Everywhere armed
men on foot or on horseback were leading to prison men, women, and
children of all ranks. The thoroughfares were clogged by wagons laden
with furniture and other spoils. The street-corners were filled with
plunder offered for sale. Never before, even when the inhabitants had
fled panic-stricken from Paris in time of war, had the price of such
commodities been so low. Numbers of little children, roaming the streets
and ready to die of hunger, formed a pitiful accompaniment to the scene.
But the tender mercies of the populace were cruel, and few dared to give
a "Lutheran" shelter through fear of incurring extreme danger. The most
incredible tales of midnight orgies were studiously circulated among the
simple-minded people, and served to inflame yet more the lust of cruelty
and gain.[776]
[Sidenote: The Protestants appeal to the queen mother.]
[Sidenote: She gives them encouragement.]
In this emergency the Protestants had recourse to the queen mother.
Afraid to trust herself entirely to the Guises, the crafty Italian had,
from the very commencement of the reign, sought to leave open a retreat
in case a change should become necessary. And, in truth, jealousy of the
cardinal and his brother, who seemed disposed to keep all the power in
their own hands, while giving Catharine only a semblance of authority,
was combined in her mind with hatred of Mary of Scots, their niece,[777]
whose influence was as powerful with her son and as adverse to herself
as that of Diana of Poitiers had been with her husband. Scarcely had the
reformers perceived, by the zeal with which Du Bourg's trial was
pressed, that the death of Henry had not bettered their condition, when
they implored the Prince of Conde, his mother-in-law, Madame de Roye,
and Admiral Coligny, to intercede in their behalf with Catharine. At the
suggestion of the latter, they even addressed her a letter, in which
they informed her of the great hopes they had in the preceding reign
founded upon her kind and gentle disposition, and the prayers they had
offered to God that she might prove a second Esther. They entreated her
to prevent the new reign from being defiled with innocent blood, and to
avert the anger of Heaven, which could only be appeased by putting an
end to persecution. The crafty queen, desirous of retaining an influence
that might one day be of great service, and solicitous, at any rate, of
obtaining their confidence, at first assumed an offended tone. "With
what am I menaced?" she said. "For what greater evil could God do me
than He has done, removing him whom I loved and prized the most?" But
presently becoming more gracious, she promised the noble suppliants to
cause the persecution to cease, if the Protestants would intermit their
conventicles and live quietly and without scandal.[778] A private letter
of remonstrance, written by a gentleman formerly in the service of Queen
Margaret of Navarre, is said to have had some weight in extorting this
pledge. He reminded her that her present evil advisers were the same
persons who had, in the first years of her married life, been advocates
of her repudiation; that then in her affliction she had recourse to God,
whose word she had read, choosing as her favorite psalm the 141st,
albeit not of Marot's translating.[779] Her prayers had been answered in
the birth of her children. But the cardinal had banished the psalm-book
from the palace, and introduced the immodest songs of Horace and other
lewd poets; and from that time there had come upon her a succession of
misfortunes. Finally, he begged her to drive away the usurpers of the
place that rightfully belonged to the princes of royal blood, and to
bring up her children after the example of good king Josiah.[780]
[Sidenote: A second and more urgent address.]
But the promises of Catharine were given only to be broken. Finding the
atrocious persecution still in operation, and seeing themselves hunted
in their houses, the Protestants again approached her. They denounced
the anger of God who would not leave Du Bourg unavenged. They warned her
of the danger that over-much oppression would breed revolt--not on the
part of those who had embraced the reformed doctrines as taught in the
Gospel, from whom she might expect all obedience--but from others, a
hundred-fold more numerous, whose eyes were open to the abuses of the
papacy, but who, not having submitted themselves to the discipline of
the church, would not brook persecution. The embankment, it was to be
feared, might give way to the violence of the pressure, and the pent-up
waters pour themselves abroad, carrying devastation and ruin to all the
neighboring lands.[781] The implied menace aroused the affected
indignation of Catharine; but, loth to lose her hold upon the
Protestants, she again professed her pity for a sect whose adherents
went to the most cruel torments as cheerfully as to a wedding feast, and
she expressed a desire to have an interview with one of their ministers.
The Protestants did their part, but Catharine failed to keep the
appointment; and all that the minister could effect was to convey to her
a copy of the yet unpublished Confession of Faith of the French
Churches, which, it is more than likely, she never read.[782]
[Sidenote: Pretended orgies in "la petite Geneve."]
The insincerity of the queen mother's professions was by this time
sufficiently apparent; yet the Protestants may be excused for applying,
in their distress, to any one in power who made even a _show_ of
compassionate feelings. The outrages visited upon the inhabitants of "la
petite Geneve" were brought to her notice, and she deigned to inquire
into their occasion. But Charles of Lorraine had a ready mode of
quieting her curiosity. Some verses found among the effects of the
Protestants made mention of the death of Henry as an instance of the
divine retribution. Other lines condemned Catharine for her excessive
complaisance to the cardinal. These were first placed in her hands. Then
the two apprentices, after having been well drilled in their lesson,
were brought into her presence. It was a fearful tale they told, and
much did it shock the ears of the virtuous Catharine. They pretended to
describe orgies at which they had been present. In particular they
remembered a conventicle of Protestants in the house of one
Trouillas,[783] an advocate, held on Thursday of Holy Week. A great
number of men and women, married and unmarried, had been present. The
hour was about midnight. The sectaries had first listened to their
preaching. Then a pig had been eaten in lieu of the paschal lamb.
Finally the lamp had been extinguished, and indiscriminate lewdness
followed.
[Sidenote: The device succeeds.]
The testimony of the boys--for such they were in years, if not in
proficiency in vice--was enforced and embellished in the queen mother's
hearing by the Cardinal of Lorraine. The trick had the desired effect.
Believing, or feigning to believe, the improbable story, Catharine
consented that the persecution of the "Christaudins" should proceed;
while to some of her maids of honor, strongly suspected of leaning to
the doctrines of the Reformation, she declared that she gave such full
credit to this information, that, were she certain that they were
Protestants, she would not hesitate, whatever favor or friendship she
had hitherto borne them, to have them put to death. Fortunately,
however, for the calumniated sect, there were among its adherents those
who prized honor above life. Trouillas and his family, although among
the number of those who had made good their escape, voluntarily returned
and gave themselves into the hands of the civil authorities. When the
latter would have put them on trial for their alleged heresy, they
declined to answer to the charges on this point until the slanderous
accusations affecting their personal morals had been investigated. The
examination not only completely vindicated their character and revealed
the grossness of the imposture of which they were the innocent victims,
but exhibited the unpleasant fact that an attempt had been made to
corrupt witnesses by representing to them that, against such execrable
wretches as the accursed "Lutherans," it was a meritorious act to allege
even what was false.[784] It is perhaps superfluous to add that
Trouillas, in spite of his manly and successful defence, was unable to
secure the punishment of his accusers. In fact, while the latter
remained at large, both he and his family were kept in prison, until
liberated, without satisfaction for the insult received, upon the
publication of the edict of amnesty of March, 1560.[785]
[Sidenote: Cruelty of the populace.]
It would be a task neither easy nor altogether agreeable to chronicle
the executions of Protestants in various cities of the realm. "Never,"
wrote Hubert Languet, "have the papists raged so; never before was there
a more cruel persecution. The prisons are full of wretched men. The
woods and solitary places can scarce contain the fugitives."[786] The
Parliaments of Toulouse and Aix, as usual, vied in ferocity with that of
Paris, where the Guises had not long since restored the "chambre
ardente."[787] But the populace of Paris surpassed the judges in
envenomed hatred. Not content with applauding the slow roasting of those
whom the courts had condemned to this torture, they sought to aggravate
the barbarity of other sentences. In August, 1559, a young carpenter was
taken from prison to suffer death for his heretical views. He was to
have been strangled and then burned. The mob, however, resented the
leniency, or were indignant that a pleasant show should lose one-half
of its attraction. They therefore resolved to defraud the hangman of his
share in the work, and suspended the youth, yet living, above the
roaring flames.[788]
[Sidenote: Traps for heretics.]
An ingenious method was devised for the detection of the reformers. At
almost every street-corner a picture or image of the Virgin Mary, or of
some one of the saints, was set up, crowned with chaplets of flowers,
and with waxen tapers burning in its honor. Around this object of
devotion were collected at all hours a crowd of porters, water-carriers,
and the very dregs of the populace, boisterously singing the praises of
the saint. Woe to the unlucky wight who, purposely or through
negligence, failed to doff his hat or drop a coin into the box placed in
convenient proximity! He was an impious man, a heretic, and fortunate
was it for him if he escaped with his life. To refuse to swell the
collection of the monk or nun that came to a man's own door to solicit
funds for the trial of the Protestants, was equally perilous. In short,
it was no unfrequent device for a debtor to get rid of the importunity
of his creditor by raising the cry, "Au Christaudin, an Lutherien!" It
went hard with the former if he did not both free himself from debt and
spoil his creditor.[789]
It is time, however, that we should turn to chronicle the fortunes of a
more illustrious victim--the most illustrious victim, in fact, of the
first period of French Protestantism.
[Sidenote: Trial of President Anne du Bourg.]
[Sidenote: His successive appeals.]
Among the five counsellors of parliament arrested by Henry's orders at
the "Mercuriale," as related in a previous chapter, Anne du Bourg had
incurred his special displeasure by his fearless harangue, and with Du
Bourg the trials began. A special commission was appointed for the
purpose, consisting of President St. Andre, a _maitre de requetes_ and
two counsellors of parliament, Du Bellay, Bishop of Paris, and
Demochares, Inquisitor of the Faith. Brought before it, Du Bourg refused
to plead, asserting his prerogative to be judged only by the united
chambers of parliament. Letters-patent were therefore obtained from
Henry, ordering the prisoner to acknowledge the authority of the
commission, under pain of being declared guilty of heresy and of
treason. Upon the results of the interrogatories, the Bishop of Paris
declared Du Bourg a heretic, ordering him to be degraded from those holy
orders which he had assumed, and then delivered over to the secular arm.
From this sentence Du Bourg appealed to parliament, on the ground that
it was an abuse of ecclesiastical power.[790] The judges--among whom his
most determined enemies, the Cardinal of Lorraine and Cardinal Bertrand
(the latter as Keeper of the Seals) were not ashamed to take their
seats--rejected his appeal, and declared that there had been no abuse.
From the sentence given by the Bishop of Paris, Du Bourg next appealed
to the Archbishop of Sens, his superior; and when the latter had
confirmed his suffragan's decision, Du Bourg again had recourse to
parliament. He pleaded that it was a violation of the very spirit of the
law that the same person, acting (as did Bertrand) as Archbishop of
Sens, should adjudicate upon a case which he had already acted upon in
the capacity of Keeper of the Seals and Chief Justice of France.
[Sidenote: His officious advocate.]
The counsel whom Chancellor Olivier, newly reinstated in his office by
Francis the Second, assigned to Du Bourg, at his earnest request, put
forth strenuous exertions to induce his client to recant. Failing in
this, he extorted a promise not to interrupt him in the defence he was
about to make. Thereupon the officious advocate, after pleading, it is
true, the injustice of the preceding trial, confessed his client's
grievous spiritual errors, and desired, in his name, reconciliation with
the church. The judges, glad to seize the opportunity of ridding
themselves of a disagreeable case, promptly remanded the prisoner, and
were about to depute two of their number to solicit the king's pardon in
his behalf. At this moment a communication arrived, signed by Du Bourg,
disavowing his counsel's admissions, persisting in his appeal and in the
confession of his faith, which he was now ready to seal with his blood,
and humbly begging the forgiveness of God for the cowardice of which he
accused himself. It is needless to say that his appeal was rejected.
[Sidenote: Du Bourg's message to the Protestants of Paris.]
Again Du Bourg appealed from the Archbishop of Sens to the Archbishop of
Lyons, "Primate of _all_ the Gauls," and from his unfavorable decision
to the parliament. Meanwhile he wrote to the Protestants of Paris, who
watched his course with the deepest interest, recognizing the important
influence which his firmness or his apostasy must exert on the interests
of truth, and begged them not to be scandalized by a course that might
appear to proceed from craven fear of death. If he thus had recourse to
the judgments of the Pope's tools, he said, it was not through undue
solicitude for life, nor because he in any wise approved their doctrine;
but that he might have the better opportunity to make known his faith in
as many places as possible, and prove that he had not precipitated his
own destruction, by failing to make use of all legitimate means of
acquittal. As for himself, he felt that he had been so strengthened by
God's grace, that the day of his death was an object of desire, which he
very joyfully awaited.[791]
[Sidenote: Du Bourg in the Bastile.]
At length the last appeal was rejected, and Du Bourg, under sentence of
death, was remanded to the Bastile, to await the pleasure of the king.
Many months had elapsed since his arrest, but his courage had risen with
the trials he was called to face. To prevent any attempt to rescue him
he had at one time been shut up in an iron cage, and the very passers-by
had been forbidden to tarry and look up at the grim walls of the prison.
But the captive was less solicitous to escape than his captors were to
detain him. He resolutely declined to avail himself of a bull obtained
for him from Rome by friends, through liberal payment of money, and
opening the way for an appeal from the Primate of France to the Pope
himself. The prison walls, it is said, resounded with the joyful psalms
and hymns which he sang, to the accompaniment of the lute.[792]
[Sidenote: Intercession of the Elector Palatine.]
[Sidenote: His pathetic speech.]
A few days before Christmas the order was given for his execution. Two
events determined the Cardinal of Lorraine: the assassination of
President Minard, one of Du Bourg's judges, whose death was caused,
doubtless, by the hand of one of the many whom he had wronged, although
by some ascribed to the Protestants;[793] and the intercession of the
Elector Palatine,[794] who by a special embassy had expressed the
desire to make Du Bourg a professor of law in his university at
Heidelberg. Unwilling to expose himself to further importunities from
abroad which he was resolved to discourage, the prelate gave the signal
for the closing of the tragic scene. The sentence was announced to Du
Bourg in his cell by the deputed judges. It was that he should forthwith
be taken to the place of execution and suspended above the flames until
life should be extinct. But the courage of Du Bourg did not fail him.
When the counsellors had fulfilled their commission and were about to
retire, the fettered prisoner detained them, and uttered a speech of
exquisite pathos. It was the bewitching spirit of delusion, he said, the
messenger of hell, the capital enemy of truth, that had accused him
before them, because he had abandoned her. To that evil spirit had they
too readily listened and condemned him and others like him, the children
of the God of infinite mercy. It was in no sense disobedience to their
prince that they refused to offer sacrifice to Baal. Was it disloyalty
to be willing to give up to their sovereign everything, even to the last
garment they possessed; to pray for the prosperity and peace of his
realm, and that all superstition and idolatry might be banished from its
borders; to entreat the Almighty to fill him and those under him in
authority with the knowledge of His will in all wisdom and spiritual
understanding, that they might walk worthy of the Lord unto all
pleasing? Was it not rather disobedience to dishonor and anger God by
impiety and blasphemy, and by transferring His glory to another?
[Sidenote: He depicts the constancy of the victims.]
The judges themselves were moved to tears as the prisoner pictured the
fearful tortures which were daily inflicted upon the innocent
Protestants at the bidding of that "red Phalaris," the Cardinal of
Lorraine.[795] "Sufferings do not intimidate them," he said, "insults do
not weaken them, satisfying their honor by death. So that the proverb
suits you well, gentlemen: the conqueror dies, and the vanquished
laments.... No, no, none shall be able to separate us from Christ,
whatever snares are laid for us, whatever ills our bodies may endure. We
know that we have long been like lambs led to the slaughter. Let them,
therefore, slay us, let them break us in pieces; for all that, the
Lord's dead will not cease to live, and we shall rise in a common
resurrection. I am a Christian, yes, I am a Christian. I will cry yet
louder, when I die, for the glory of my Lord Jesus Christ! And since it
is so, why do I tarry? Lay hands upon me, executioner, and lead me to
the gallows." Then resuming his address to his judges, he protested at
great length that he died at their hands only for his unwillingness to
recognize other justification, grace, merit, intercession, satisfaction,
or salvation than in Jesus Christ. "Put an end, put an end," he cried,
"to your burnings, and return to the Lord with amendment of life, that
your sins may be wiped away. Let the wicked forsake his way, and the
unrighteous man his thoughts, and let him return unto the Lord, and he
will have mercy upon him. Live, then, and meditate upon this, O
senators; and I go to die!"[796]
[Sidenote: His death.]
He was led under a strong guard to the Place de Greve. A vast concourse
of people had assembled to witness the death of the illustrious victim.
"My friends," he cried, as with assured countenance he prepared for the
execution, "I am here not as a thief or a robber, but for the Gospel."
The people listened with breathless interest to the harangue he made
them from the scaffold. Then, before he died, he exclaimed again and
again: "My God, forsake me not, that I may not forsake Thee!" The judges
did him the favor of permitting him to be strangled before he was
burned. Perhaps this was done that the story might be circulated that he
had at the last moment recanted; but his refusal to kiss the crucifix
which was offered him was a visible proof to the contrary.[797] Thus he
died, displaying, according to a friendly historian,[798] "the most
admirable constancy shown by any that have suffered for this cause."
[Sidenote: His death a disastrous blow to the established church.]
[Sidenote: Account of an eye-witness.]
Du Bourg's martyrdom was the most terrible blow the established church
had ever received in France. Never had a more disastrous blunder been
committed by the Guises, than when they stirred Henry to imprison and
try, and Francis to execute, the most virtuous member of the Parisian
senate. Such strength of principle in the midst of affliction, such
fortitude upon the brink of death, had never been seen before. The
witnesses of the execution never forgot the scene. Thousands who had
never before wavered in their allegiance to the Roman Catholic Church,
resolved that day to investigate the truth of the faith which had given
him so signal a victory over death. "I remember," writes the most
envenomed enemy of the Protestants that ever undertook to write their
history, "when Anne Du Bourg, counsellor in the Parliament of Paris, was
burned, that all Paris was astonished at the constancy of the man. As we
returned to our colleges from the execution, we were melted in tears;
and we pleaded his cause, after his death, anathematizing those unjust
judges who had justly condemned him. His sermon at the gallows and upon
the funeral pile did more harm than a hundred ministers could have
done."[799]
[Sidenote: He deplores the result.]
But the martyrdom of Du Bourg was not a solitary case. The same
consequences flowed from the public execution of others, whose dying
words and actions shook to its very foundations the fabric of
superstition reared in many a spectator's heart. Florimond de Raemond,
himself an advocate of persecution in the abstract, noticed and deplored
the inevitable result. "Meanwhile funeral piles were kindled in all
directions. But as, on the one hand, the severity of justice and of the
laws restrained the people in their duty, so the incredible obstinacy of
those who were led to execution, and who suffered their lives to be
taken from them rather than their opinions, amazed many. For who can
abstain from wonder when simple women willingly undergo tortures in
order to give a proof of their faith, and, while led to death, call upon
Jesus Christ their Saviour, and sing psalms; when maidens hasten to the
most excruciating torments with greater alacrity than to their nuptials;
when men leap for joy at the terrible sight of the preparations for
execution, and, half-burned, from the funeral pile mock the authors of
their sufferings; when, with indomitable strength of courage and joyful
countenance, they endure the lacerating of their bodies by means of
heated pincers; when, in short, like an immovable rock, they receive and
break all the billows of the most bitter sufferings at the hands of the
executioner, and, like those who have eaten the Sardinian herb, die
laughing? The lamentable sight of such incredible constancy as this
created no little doubt in the minds not only of the simple, but of men
of authority. For they could not believe that cause to be bad for which
death was so willingly undergone. Others pitied the miserable, and
burned with indignation against their persecutors. Whenever they beheld
the blackened stakes with the chains attached--memorials of
executions--they could not restrain their tears. The desire consequently
seized many to read their books, and to become acquainted with the
foundations of the faith from which it seemed impossible to tear them by
the most refined tortures.... Why need I say more? The greater the
number of those who were consigned to the flames, the greater the number
of those who seemed to spring from their ashes."[800]
[Sidenote: Fate of the remaining judges.]
Of the five counsellors of parliament arrested by the late king's
orders, Du Bourg was the only martyr. By the others greater weakness was
shown, or the judges were less willing to fulfil the cardinal's bloody
injunctions.[801] La Porte was reprimanded for finding fault with the
rigorous sentences of the "grand' chambre," and liberated on declaring
those sentences good and praiseworthy. De Foix was condemned to make a
public declaration of his belief in the sole validity of the sacrament
as administered in the Romish Church, and to be suspended from his
office for a year; Du Faur to beg pardon of God, the king, and his
fellow-judges, for having maintained the propriety of holding a holy and
free universal council before extirpating the heretics, to pay a
considerable fine, and to suffer a five years' suspension. Fumee, more
fortunate than his associates, was acquitted in spite of the most
strenuous exertions of the Cardinal of Lorraine.[802]
[Sidenote: Public indignation against the Guises.]
[Sidenote: Must the faithful submit passively to usurpation?]
The savage persecution of the Protestants tended powerfully to
strengthen the current of popular sentiment that was setting in against
the government of the Guises. The sight of so many cruel executions for
more than thirty years had not accustomed either the dissidents or the
more reflecting among those of the opposite creed to the barbarous work.
"Is it not time," they asked, "to put a stop to the ravages of the
flames and of the sword of the executioner, when such signal failure has
attended their application? Will the terror of the _estrapade_ quench
the burning courage of a sect which has spread over the whole of France,
if it could not stifle the fire when first kindled at Meaux and at
Paris? Has not the policy of extermination thus far persisted in only
accelerating the growth of the new doctrines? Shall the sword rage
forever, and must princes of the blood and the noblest and purest in
lower ranks of society incur a common fate? Must the persecuted submit
with as good grace to the arbitrary decrees of the usurpers who, through
their connection with a minor king, have made themselves supreme, as to
the legitimate authority of the monarch, advised by his council of
state? The Gospel, doubtless, enjoins upon all Christians the most
patient submission to legally constituted authority. Its success is to
be won by the display of faith and obedience. But concession may
degenerate into cowardice, and submission into craven subserviency.
Obedience to a tyrant is rebellion against the king whom he defrauds of
his authority, his revenues, and his reputation; and treason against
God, whose name is suffered to be blasphemed, and whose children are
unjustly distressed."
[Sidenote: Oppression becomes intolerable.]
[Sidenote: The convocation of the States General.]
The religious grievances thus ran parallel with the political, and could
scarcely be distinguished in the great aggregate of the intolerable
oppression to which France was subjected. The legislation of which such
grave complaint was made, it must be admitted, was sometimes
sufficiently whimsical. The resources of the royal treasury, for
instance, being inadequate to meet the demands of creditors, it was
necessary to silence their importunity. An inhuman decree was
accordingly published, enjoining upon all petitioners who had come to
Fontainebleau, where the king was sojourning, to solicit the payment of
debts or pensions, to leave the court within twenty-four hours, on pain
of the halter! A gallows newly erected in front of the castle was a
significant warning as to the serious character of the threat.[803] In
order to provide against uprisings such as the violent course taken was
well calculated to occasion, the people must be disarmed. Accordingly,
an edict was published, within a fortnight after the accession of
Francis, strictly forbidding all persons from carrying pistols and other
firearms, and the prohibition was more than once repeated during this
brief reign.[804] While thus seeking to repress the display of the
popular displeasure in acts of violence and sedition, the Guises
resolved to prevent the overthrow of their usurped authority by
legitimate means. The convocation of the States General was the
safety-valve through which, in accordance with a wise provision, the
overheated passions of the people were wont to find vent. But the
assembling of the representatives of the three orders would be
equivalent to signing the death-warrant of the Guises; while to
Catharine, the queen mother, it would betoken an equally dreaded
termination of long-cherished hopes. Both Catharine and the Guises,
therefore, gave out that whoever talked of convening the States was a
mortal enemy of the king, and made himself liable to the pains of
treason.[805] Every precaution had been taken to make the boiler tight,
and to render impossible the escape of the scalding waters and the
steam; it only remained to be seen whether the structure was proof
against an explosion.
[Sidenote: Calvin and Beza consulted.]
[Sidenote: They dissuade armed resistance.]
[Sidenote: Calvin foresees civil war.]
[Sidenote: More favorable replies.]
Such a catastrophe, indeed, seemed now to be imminent.[806] Among the
more restless, especially, there was a manifest preparation for some new
enterprise. The correspondence of the reformers reveals the fact that,
as early as in the commencement of September, a knotty question had
been propounded to the Genevese theologians:[807] "Is it lawful to make
an insurrection against those enemies not only of religion, but of the
very state, particularly when, according to law, the king himself
possesses no authority on which they can rest their usurpation?" This
was an interrogatory often put by those who would gladly have followed
the example of a Scaevola, and sacrificed their own lives to purchase
freedom for France. "Hitherto," notes Beza, "we have answered that the
storm must be overcome by prayer and by patience, and that He will not
desert us who lately showed by so wonderful an example (the death of
Henry) not only what He can, but what He will do for His church. Until
now this advice has been followed."[808] As the plan for a forcible
overthrow of the Guises began to develop under the increasing
oppression, and as malcontents from France came to the free city on Lake
Leman in greater numbers, Calvin expressed his convictions with more and
more distinctness, and endeavored to dissuade the refugees from
embarking in so hazardous an undertaking. Its advocates in vain urged
that they had received from a prince of the blood (entitled, by the
immemorial custom of the realm, to the first place in the council, in
the absence of his brother, the King of Navarre) the promise to present
their confession of faith to the young monarch of France, and that
thousands would espouse his defence if he were assailed. The reformer
saw more clearly than they the rising of the clouds of civil war
portending ruin to his native land. "Let but a single drop of blood be
shed," said Calvin, "and streams will flow that must inundate
France."[809] But his prudent advice was unheeded. Other theologians
and jurists of France and Germany had been questioned. They replied more
favorably, "It is lawful," they said, "to take up arms to repel the
violence of the Guises, under the authority of a prince of the blood,
and at the solicitation of the estates of France, or the soundest part
of them. Having seized the persons of the obnoxious ministers, it will
next be proper to assemble the States General, and put them on trial for
their flagrant offences."[810]
[Sidenote: Godefroy de la Renaudie.]
[Sidenote: His grounds for revenge.]
An active and energetic man was needed to organize the movement and
control it until the proper moment should come for Conde--the "mute"
head, whose name was for the time to be kept secret--to declare himself.
Such a leader was found in Godefroy de Barry, Seigneur de la Renaudie, a
gentleman of ancient family in Perigord. The result justified the wisdom
of the choice. Besides the discontent animating him in common with the
better part of the kingdom, La Renaudie had private wrongs of his own to
avenge. Less than a year before the accession of Francis, his
brother-in-law, Gaspard de Heu, had been arrested as a pretended agent
for bringing about an alliance between the King of Navarre and the
Protestant princes of Germany.[811] In the gloomy castle of the Bois de
Vincennes a private trial had been held, in which none of the accustomed
forms of law were observed. De Heu had been barbarously tortured and
secretly despatched.[812] That it was a judicial murder was proved by
the extraordinary precautions taken to conceal the procedure from the
knowledge of the public, and by the selection of the most lonely place
about the castle for the grave into which his official assassins hastily
thrust the body.[813] La Renaudie held the Cardinal of Lorraine to be
the author of the cowardly deed.[814]
[Sidenote: He assembles the malcontents at Nantes, Feb. 1, 1560.]
[Sidenote: Well-devised plans.]
La Renaudie displayed incredible diligence.[815] In a few days he had
travelled over a great part of France, visiting all the most prominent
opponents of the Guises, urging the reluctant, assuring the timid,
inciting all to a determined effort. On the first of February he
assembled in the city of Nantes a large number of noblemen and of
persons belonging to the "tiers etat," who claimed to be as complete a
representation of the estates of France as the circumstances of the
country would admit. It was a hazardous undertaking; but so prudently
did the deputies deport themselves, that, although the Parliament of
Brittany was then sitting at Nantes, they were not detected in the crowd
of pleaders before the court. After solemnly protesting that the
enterprise was directed neither against the majesty of the king and of
the princes of the blood, nor against the legitimate estate of the
kingdom, the assembly was intrusted with the secret of the name of the
prince by whose authority the arrest of the Guises was to be attempted.
The tenth of March[816] was fixed upon for the execution of the design.
At that date, it was supposed, Francis and his court would be sojourning
on the banks of the Loire.[817] Five hundred gentlemen were selected,
and placed under the command of ten captains. All were to obey the
directions of the "mute" chief, and his delegate, La Renaudie. Others of
the confederates were pledged to prevent the provincial towns from
sending assistance to the Guises. The force thus raised was to be
disbanded only when a legitimate government had been re-established, and
the usurpers brought to punishment.[818]
[Sidenote: Confidence of the Guises.]
The plan was well devised, and its execution was entrusted to capable
hands. The omens, indeed, were favorable. The Cardinal of Lorraine and
his brother, intoxicated by the uniform success hitherto attending their
ambitious projects, despised such vague rumors of opposition as reached
their ears. The party adverse to their tyranny, composed not only of
Protestants and others who sought the best interests of their country,
but recruited from the ranks of the restless and of those who had
private wrongs to redress, was sure, on the first tidings of its
uprising, to secure the active co-operation of many of the most powerful
nobles, and possibly might enlist the majority of the population. Rarely
has an important secret been so long and so successfully kept. It was
deemed little short of a miracle that, in a time of peace, and in a
country where the regal authority was so implicitly obeyed, a
deliberative assembly of no mean size had been convened from all the
provinces of France, and the Guises had obtained intimations of the
conspiracy of their enemies by letters from Germany, Spain, and Italy,
before any tidings of it reached the ears of their spies carefully
posted in every part of the kingdom. So close a reticence augured ill
for the permanence of the present usurpation.[819]
[Sidenote: The plot betrayed.]
But the timidity or treachery of a single person disconcerted all the
steps so cautiously taken. The curiosity of Des Avenelles, a lawyer at
Paris, in whose house La Renaudie lodged, was excited by the number of
the visitors whom his guest attracted. As his host was a Protestant, La
Renaudie believed that he risked nothing in making of him a confidant.
But the secret was too valuable, or too dangerous, to be kept, and Des
Avenelles secured his safety, as well as a liberal reward, by disclosing
it to two dependants of the Guises, by whom it was faithfully reported
to their masters.[820] The astounding information was at first received
with incredulity, but soon a second witness was obtained. It could no
longer be doubted that the blow of the approach of which letters from
abroad, and especially from Cardinal Granvelle, in Flanders,[821] had
warned them, was about to descend upon their heads.
[Sidenote: The "Tumult of Amboise."]
When fuller revelations of the extent of the plot were made, the court
in consternation shut itself up in the defences of Amboise. Catharine
de' Medici, recalling the warning of the Church of Paris, declared that
now she saw that the Protestants were men of their word.[822]
[Sidenote: The Chatillons consulted.]
[Sidenote: Coligny gives Catharine good advice.]