CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
*MASSACRES OF THE SOUTH--1551-1815*
CHAPTER I
It is possible that our reader, whose recollections may perhaps go back
as far as the Restoration, will be surprised at the size of the frame
required for the picture we are about to bring before him, embracing as
it does two centuries and a half; but as everything, has its precedent,
every river its source, every volcano its central fire, so it is that
the spot of earth on which we are going to fix our eyes has been the
scene of action and reaction, revenge and retaliation, till the
religious annals of the South resemble an account-book kept by double
entry, in which fanaticism enters the profits of death, one side being
written with the blood of Catholics, the other with that of Protestants.
In the great political and religious convulsions of the South, the
earthquake-like throes of which were felt even in the capital, Nimes has
always taken the central place; Nimes will therefore be the pivot round
which our story will revolve, and though we may sometimes leave it for a
moment, we shall always return thither without fail.
Nimes was reunited to France by Louis VIII, the government being taken
from its vicomte, Bernard Athon VI, and given to consuls in the year
1207. During the episcopate of Michel Briconnet the relics of St.
Bauzile were discovered, and hardly were the rejoicings over this event
at an end when the new doctrines began to spread over France. It was in
the South that the persecutions began, and in 1551 several persons were
publicly burnt as heretics by order of the Seneschal's Court at Nimes,
amongst whom was Maurice Secenat, a missionary from the Cevennes, who
was taken in the very act of preaching. Thenceforth Nimes rejoiced in
two martyrs and two patron saints, one revered by the Catholics, and one
by the Protestants; St. Bauzile, after reigning as sole protector for
twenty-four years, being forced to share the honours of his guardianship
with his new rival.
Maurice Secenat was followed as preacher by Pierre de Lavau; these two
names being still remembered among the crowd of obscure and forgotten
martyrs. He also was put to death on the Place de la Salamandre, all the
difference being that the former was burnt and the latter hanged.
Pierre de Lavau was attended in his last moments by Dominique Deyron,
Doctor of Theology; but instead of, as is usual, the dying man being
converted by the priest, it was the priest who was converted by de
Lavau, and the teaching which it was desired should be suppressed burst
forth again. Decrees were issued against Dominique Deyron; he was
pursued and tracked down, and only escaped the gibbet by fleeing to the
mountains.
The mountains are the refuge of all rising or decaying sects; God has
given to the powerful on earth city, plain, and sea, but the mountains
are the heritage of the oppressed.
Persecution and proselytism kept pace with each other, but the blood
that was shed produced the usual effect: it rendered the soil on which
it fell fruitful, and after two or three years of struggle, during which
two or three hundred Huguenots had been burnt or hanged, Nimes awoke one
morning with a Protestant majority. In 1556 the consuls received a sharp
reprimand on account of the leaning of the city towards the doctrines of
the Reformation; but in 1557, one short year after this admonition,
Henri II was forced to confer the office of president of the Presidial
Court on William de Calviere, a Protestant. At last a decision of the
senior judge having declared that it was the duty of the consuls to
sanction the execution of heretics by their presence, the magistrates of
the city protested against this decision, and the power of the Crown was
insufficient to carry it out.
Henri II dying, Catherine de Medicis and the Guises took possession of
the throne in the name of Francois II. There is a moment when nations
can always draw a long breath, it is while their kings are awaiting
burial; and Nimes took advantage of this moment on the death of Henri
II, and on September 29th, 1559, Guillaume Moget founded the first
Protestant community.
Guillaume Moget came from Geneva. He was the spiritual son of Calvin,
and came to Nimes with the firm purpose of converting all the remaining
Catholics or of being hanged. As he was eloquent, spirited, and wily,
too wise to be violent, ever ready to give and take in the matter of
concessions, luck was on his side, and Guillaume Moget escaped hanging.
The moment a rising sect ceases to be downtrodden it becomes a queen,
and heresy, already mistress of three-fourths of the city, began to hold
up its head with boldness in the streets. A householder called Guillaume
Raymond opened his house to the Calvinist missionary, and allowed him to
preach in it regularly to all who came, and the wavering were thus
confirmed in the new faith. Soon the house became too narrow to contain
the crowds which flocked thither to imbibe the poison of the
revolutionary doctrine, and impatient glances fell on the churches.
Meanwhile the Vicomte de Joyeuse, who had just been appointed governor
of Languedoc in the place of M. de Villars, grew uneasy at the rapid
progress made by the Protestants, who so far from trying to conceal it
boasted of it; so he summoned the consuls before him, admonished them
sharply in the king's name, and threatened to quarter a garrison in the
town which would soon put an end to these disorders. The consuls
promised to stop the evil without the aid of outside help, and to carry
out their promise doubled the patrol and appointed a captain of the town
whose sole duty was to keep order in the streets. Now this captain whose
office had been created solely for the repression of heresy, happened to
be Captain Bouillargues, the most inveterate Huguenot who ever existed.
The result of this discriminating choice was that Guillaume Moget began
to preach, and once when a great crowd had gathered in a garden to hear
him hold forth, heavy rain came on, and it became necessary for the
people either to disperse or to seek shelter under a roof. As the
preacher had just reached the most interesting part of his sermon, the
congregation did not hesitate an instant to take the latter alternative.
The Church of St. Etienne du Capitole was quite near: someone present
suggested that this building, if not the most suitable, as at least the
most spacious for such a gathering.
The idea was received with acclamation: the rain grew heavier, the crowd
invaded the church, drove out the priests, trampled the Holy Sacrament
under foot, and broke the sacred images. This being accomplished,
Guillaume Moget entered the pulpit, and resumed his sermon with such
eloquence that his hearers' excitement redoubled, and not satisfied with
what had already been done, rushed off to seize on the Franciscan
monastery, where they forthwith installed Moget and the two women, who,
according to Menard the historian of Languedoc, never left him day or
night; all which proceedings were regarded by Captain Bouillargues with
magnificent calm.
The consuls being once more summoned before M. de Villars, who had again
become governor, would gladly have denied the existence of disorder; but
finding this impossible, they threw themselves on his mercy. He being
unable to repose confidence in them any longer, sent a garrison to the
citadel of Nimes, which the municipality was obliged to support,
appointed a governor of the city with four district captains under him,
and formed a body of military police which quite superseded the
municipal constabulary. Moget was expelled from Nimes, and Captain
Bouillargues deprived of office.
Francis II dying in his turn, the usual effect was produced,--that is,
the persecution became less fierce,--and Moget therefore returned to
Nimes. This was a victory, and every victory being a step forward, the
triumphant preacher organised a Consistory, and the deputies of Nimes
demanded from the States-General of Orleans possession of the churches.
No notice was taken of this demand; but the Protestants were at no loss
how to proceed. On the 21st December 1561 the churches of Ste. Eugenie,
St. Augustin, and the Cordeliers were taken by assault, and cleared of
their images in a hand's turn; and this time Captain Bouillargues was
not satisfied with looking on, but directed the operations.
The cathedral was still safe, and in it were entrenched the remnant of
the Catholic clergy; but it was apparent that at the earliest
opportunity it too would be turned into a meeting-house; and this
opportunity was not long in coming.
One Sunday, when Bishop Bernard d'Elbene had celebrated mass, just as
the regular preacher was about to begin his sermon, some children who
were playing in the close began to hoot the 'beguinier' [a name of
contempt for friars]. Some of the faithful being disturbed in their
meditations, came out of the church and chastised the little Huguenots,
whose parents considered themselves in consequence to have been insulted
in the persons of their children. A great commotion ensued, crowds began
to form, and cries of "To the church! to the church!" were heard.
Captain Bouillargues happened to be in the neighbourhood, and being very
methodical set about organising the insurrection; then putting himself
at its head, he charged the cathedral, carrying everything before him,
in spite of the barricades which had been hastily erected by the
Papists. The assault was over in a few moments; the priests and their
flock fled by one door, while the Reformers entered by another. The
building was in the twinkling of an eye adapted to the new form of
worship: the great crucifix from above the altar was dragged about the
streets at the end of a rope and scourged at every cross-roads. In the
evening a large fire was lighted in the place before the cathedral, and
the archives of the ecclesiastical and religious houses, the sacred
images, the relics of the saints, the decorations of the altar, the
sacerdotal vestments, even the Host itself, were thrown on it without
any remonstrance from the consuls; the very wind which blew upon Nimes
breathed heresy.
For the moment Nimes was in full revolt, and the spirit of organisation
spread: Moget assumed the titles of pastor and minister of the Christian
Church. Captain Bouillargues melted down the sacred vessels of the
Catholic churches, and paid in this manner the volunteers of Nimes and
the German mercenaries; the stones of the demolished religious houses
were used in the construction of fortifications, and before anyone
thought of attacking it the city was ready for a siege. It was at this
moment that Guillaume Calviere, who was at the head of the Presidial
Court, Moget being president of the Consistory, and Captain Bouillargues
commander-in-chief of the armed forces, suddenly resolved to create a
new authority, which, while sharing the powers hitherto vested solely in
the consuls, should be, even more than they, devoted to Calvin: thus the
office of les Messieurs came into being. This was neither more nor less
than a committee of public safety, and having been formed in the stress
of revolution it acted in a revolutionary spirit, absorbing the powers
of the consuls, and restricting the authority of the Consistory to
things spiritual. In the meantime the Edict of Amboise, was promulgated,
and it was announced that the king, Charles IX, accompanied by Catherine
de Medicis, was going to visit his loyal provinces in the South.
Determined as was Captain Bouillargues, for once he had to give way, so
strong was the party against him; therefore, despite the murmurs of the
fanatics, the city of Nimes resolved, not only to open its gates to its
sovereign, but to give him such a reception as would efface the bad
impression which Charles might have received from the history of recent
events. The royal procession was met at the Pont du Gare, where young
girls attired as nymphs emerged from a grotto bearing a collation, which
they presented to their Majesties, who graciously and heartily partook
of it. The repast at an end, the illustrious travellers resumed their
progress; but the imagination of the Nimes authorities was not to be
restrained within such narrow bounds: at the entrance to the city the
king found the Porte de la Couronne transformed into a mountain-side,
covered with vines and olive trees, under which a shepherd was tending
his flock. As the king approached the mountain parted as if yielding to
the magic of his power, the most beautiful maidens and the most noble
came out to meet their sovereign, presenting him the keys of the city
wreathed with flowers, and singing to the accompaniment of the
shepherd's pipe. Passing through the mountain, Charles saw chained to a
palm tree in the depths of a grotto a monster crocodile from whose jaws
issued flames: this was a representation of the old coat of arms granted
to the city by Octavius Caesar Augustus after the battle of Actium, and
which Francis I had restored to it in exchange for a model in silver of
the amphitheatre presented to him by the city. Lastly, the king found in
the Place de la Salamandre numerous bonfires, so that without waiting to
ask if these fires were made from the remains of the faggots used at the
martyrdom of Maurice Secenat, he went to bed very much pleased with the
reception accorded him by his good city of Nimes, and sure that all the
unfavourable reports he had heard were calumnies.
Nevertheless, in order that such rumours, however slight their
foundation, should not again be heard, the king appointed Damville
governor of Languedoc, installing him himself in the chief city of his
government; he then removed every consul from his post without
exception, and appointed in their place Guy-Rochette, doctor and lawyer;
Jean Beaudan, burgess; Francois Aubert, mason; and Cristol Ligier, farm
labourer--all Catholics. He then left for Paris, where a short time
after he concluded a treaty with the Calvinists, which the people with
its gift of prophecy called "The halting peace of unsure seat," and
which in the end led to the massacre of St. Bartholomew.
Gracious as had been the measures taken by the king to secure the peace
of his good city of Nimes, they had nevertheless been reactionary;
consequently the Catholics, feeling the authorities were now on their
side, returned in crowds: the householders reclaimed their houses, the
priests their churches; while, rendered ravenous by the bitter bread of
exile, both the clergy and the laity pillaged the treasury. Their return
was not, however; stained by bloodshed, although the Calvinists were
reviled in the open street. A few stabs from a dagger or shots from an
arquebus might, however, have been better; such wounds heal while
mocking words rankle in the memory.
On the morrow of Michaelmas Day--that is, on the 31st September 1567--a
number of conspirators might have been seen issuing from a house and
spreading themselves through the streets, crying "To arms! Down with the
Papists!" Captain Bouillargues was taking his revenge.
As the Catholics were attacked unawares, they did not make even a show
of resistance: a number of Protestants--those who possessed the best
arms--rushed to the house of Guy-Rochette, the first consul, and seized
the keys of the city. Guy Rochette, startled by the cries of the crowds,
had looked out of the window, and seeing a furious mob approaching his
house, and feeling that their rage was directed against himself, had
taken refuge with his brother Gregoire. There, recovering his courage
and presence of mind, he recalled the important responsibilities
attached to his office, and resolving to fulfil them whatever might
happen, hastened to consult with the other magistrates, but as they all
gave him very excellent reasons for not meddling, he soon felt there was
no dependence to be placed on such cowards and traitors. He next
repaired to the episcopal palace, where he found the bishop surrounded
by the principal Catholics of the town, all on their knees offering up
earnest prayers to Heaven, and awaiting martyrdom. Guy-Rochette joined
them, and the prayers were continued.
A few instants later fresh noises were heard in the street, and the
gates of the palace court groaned under blows of axe and crowbar.
Hearing these alarming sounds, the bishop, forgetting that it was his
duty to set a brave example, fled through a breach in the wall of the
next house; but Guy-Rochette and his companions valiantly resolved not
to run away, but to await their fate with patience. The gates soon
yielded, and the courtyard and palace were filled with Protestants: at
their head appeared Captain Bouillargues, sword in hand. Guy-Rochette
and those with him were seized and secured in a room under the charge of
four guards, and the palace was looted. Meantime another band of
insurgents had attacked the house of the vicar-general, John Pebereau,
whose body pierced by seven stabs of a dagger was thrown out of a
window, the same fate as was meted out to Admiral Coligny eight years
later at the hands of the Catholics. In the house a sum of 800 crowns
was found and taken. The two bands then uniting, rushed to the
cathedral, which they sacked for the second time.
Thus the entire day passed in murder and pillage: when night came the
large number of prisoners so imprudently taken began to be felt as an
encumbrance by the insurgent chiefs, who therefore resolved to take
advantage of the darkness to get rid of them without causing too much
excitement in the city. They were therefore gathered together from the
various houses in which they had been confined, and were brought to a
large hall in the Hotel de Ville, capable of containing from four to
five hundred persons, and which was soon full. An irregular tribunal
arrogating to itself powers of life and death was formed, and a clerk
was appointed to register its decrees. A list of all the prisoners was
given him, a cross placed before a name indicating that its bearer was
condemned to death, and, list in hand, he went from group to group
calling out the names distinguished by the fatal sign. Those thus sorted
out were then conducted to a spot which had been chosen beforehand as
the place of execution.
This was the palace courtyard in the middle of which yawned a well
twenty-four feet in circumference and fifty deep. The fanatics thus
found a grave ready-digged as it were to their hand, and to save time,
made use of it.
The unfortunate Catholics, led thither in groups, were either stabbed
with daggers or mutilated with axes, and the bodies thrown down the
well. Guy-Rochette was one of the first to be dragged up. For himself he
asked neither mercy nor favour, but he begged that the life of his young
brother might be spared, whose only crime was the bond of blood which
united them; but the assassins, paying no heed to his prayers, struck
down both man and boy and flung them into the well. The corpse of the
vicar-general, who had been killed the day before, was in its turn
dragged thither by a rope and added to the others. All night the
massacre went on, the crimsoned water rising in the well as corpse after
corpse was thrown in, till, at break of day, it overflowed, one hundred
and twenty bodies being then hidden in its depths.
Next day, October 1st, the scenes of tumult were renewed: from early
dawn Captain Bouillargues ran from street to street crying, "Courage,
comrades! Montpellier, Pezenas, Aramon, Beaucaire, Saint-Andeol, and
Villeneuve are taken, and are on our side. Cardinal de Lorraine is dead,
and the king is in our power." This aroused the failing energies of the
assassins. They joined the captain, and demanded that the houses round
the palace should be searched, as it was almost certain that the bishop,
who had, as may be remembered, escaped the day before, had taken refuge
in one of them. This being agreed to, a house-to-house visitation was
begun: when the house of M. de Sauvignargues was reached, he confessed
that the bishop was in his cellar, and proposed to treat with Captain
Bouillargues for a ransom. This proposition being considered reasonable,
was accepted, and after a short discussion the sum of 120 crowns was
agreed on. The bishop laid down every penny he had about him, his
servants were despoiled, and the sum made up by the Sieur de
Sauvignargues, who having the bishop in his house kept him caged. The
prelate, however, made no objection, although under other circumstances
he would have regarded this restraint as the height of impertinence; but
as it was he felt safer in M. de Sauvignargues' cellar than in the
palace.
But the secret of the worthy prelate's hiding place was but badly kept
by those with whom he had treated; for in a few moments a second crowd
appeared, hoping to obtain a second ransom. Unfortunately, the Sieur de
Sauvignargues, the bishop, and the bishop's servants had stripped
themselves of all their ready money to make up the first, so the master
of the house, fearing for his own safety, having barricaded the doors,
got out into a lane and escaped, leaving the bishop to his fate. The
Huguenots climbed in at the windows, crying, "No quarter! Down with the
Papists!" The bishop's servants were cut down, the bishop himself
dragged out of the cellar and thrown into the street. There his rings
and crozier were snatched from him; he was stripped of his clothes and
arrayed in a grotesque and ragged garment which chanced to be at hand;
his mitre was replaced by a peasant's cap; and in this condition he was
dragged back to the palace and placed on the brink of the well to be
thrown in. One of the assassins drew attention to the fact that it was
already full. "Pooh!" replied another, "they won't mind a little
crowding for a bishop." Meantime the prelate, seeing he need expect no
mercy from man, threw himself on his knees and commended his soul to
God. Suddenly, however, one of those who had shown himself most
ferocious during the massacre, Jean Coussinal by name, was touched as if
by miracle with a feeling of compassion at the sight of so much
resignation, and threw himself between the bishop and those about to
strike, and declaring that whoever touched the prelate must first
overcome himself, took him under his protection, his comrades retreating
in astonishment. Jean Coussinal raising the bishop, carried him in his
arms into a neighbouring house, and drawing his sword, took his stand on
the threshold.
The assassins, however, soon recovered from their surprise, and
reflecting that when all was said and done they were fifty to one,
considered it would be shameful to let themselves be intimidated by a
single opponent, so they advanced again on Coussinal, who with a
back-handed stroke cut off the head of the first-comer. The cries upon
this redoubled, and two or three shots were fired at the obstinate
defender of the poor bishop, but they all missed aim. At that moment
Captain Bouillargues passed by, and seeing one man attacked by fifty,
inquired into the cause. He was told of Coussinal's odd determination to
save the bishop. "He is quite right," said the captain; "the bishop has
paid ransom, and no one has any right to touch him." Saying this, he
walked up to Coussinal, gave him his hand, and the two entered the
house, returning in a few moments with the bishop between them. In this
order they crossed the town, followed by the murmuring crowd, who were,
however, afraid to do more than murmur; at the gate the bishop was
provided with an escort and let go, his defenders remaining there till
he was out of sight.
The massacres went on during the whole of the second day, though towards
evening the search for victims relaxed somewhat; but still many isolated
acts of murder took place during the night. On the morrow, being tired
of killing, the people began to destroy, and this phase lasted a long
time, it being less fatiguing to throw stones about than corpses. All
the convents, all the monasteries, all the houses of the priests and
canons were attacked in turn; nothing was spared except the cathedral,
before which axes and crowbars seemed to lose their power, and the
church of Ste. Eugenie, which was turned into a powder-magazine. The day
of the great butchery was called "La Michelade," because it took place
the day after Michaelmas, and as all this happened in the year 1567 the
Massacre of St. Bartholomew must be regarded as a plagiarism.
At last, however, with the help of M. Damville; the Catholics again got
the upper hand, and it was the turn of the Protestants to fly. They took
refuge in the Cevennes. From the beginning of the troubles the Cevennes
had been the asylum of those who suffered for the Protestant faith; and
still the plains are Papist, and the mountains Protestant. When the
Catholic party is in the ascendant at Nimes, the plain seeks the
mountain; when the Protestants come into power, the mountain comes down
into the plain.
However, vanquished and fugitive though they were, the Calvinists did
not lose courage: in exile one day, they felt sure their luck would turn
the next; and while the Catholics were burning or hanging them in effigy
for contumacy, they were before a notary, dividing the property of their
executioners.
But it was not enough for them to buy or sell this property amongst each
other, they wanted to enter into possession; they thought of nothing
else, and in 1569--that is, in the eighteenth month of their exile--they
attained their wish in the following manner:
One day the exiles perceived a carpenter belonging to a little village
called Cauvisson approaching their place of refuge. He desired to speak
to M. Nicolas de Calviere, seigneur de St. Cosme, and brother of the
president, who was known to be a very enterprising man. To him the
carpenter, whose name was Maduron, made the following proposition:
In the moat of Nimes, close to the Gate of the Carmelites, there was a
grating through which the waters from the fountain found vent. Maduron
offered to file through the bars of this grating in such a manner that
some fine night it could be lifted out so as to allow a band of armed
Protestants to gain access to the city. Nicolas de Calviere approving of
this plan, desired that it should be carried out at once; but the
carpenter pointed out that it would be necessary to wait for stormy
weather, when the waters swollen by the rain would by their noise drown
the sound of the file. This precaution was doubly necessary as the box
of the sentry was almost exactly above the grating. M. de Calviere tried
to make Maduron give way; but the latter, who was risking more than
anyone else, was firm. So whether they liked it or not, de Calviere and
the rest had to await his good pleasure.
Some days later rainy weather set in, and as usual the fountain became
fuller; Maduron seeing that the favourable moment had arrived, glided at
night into the moat and applied his file, a friend of his who was hidden
on the ramparts above pulling a cord attached to Maduron's arm every
time the sentinel, in pacing his narrow round, approached the spot.
Before break of day the work was well begun. Maduron then obliterated
all traces of his file by daubing the bars with mud and wax, and
withdrew. For three consecutive nights he returned to his task, taking
the same precautions, and before the fourth was at an end he found that
by means of a slight effort the grating could be removed. That was all
that was needed, so he gave notice to Messire Nicolas de Calviere that
the moment had arrived.
Everything was favourable to the undertaking: as there was no moon, the
next night was chosen to carry out the plan, and as soon as it was dark
Messire Nicolas de Calviere set out with his men, who, slipping down
into the moat without noise, crossed, the water being up to their belts,
climbed up the other side, and crept along at the foot of the wall till
they reached the grating without being perceived. There Maduron was
waiting, and as soon as he caught sight of them he gave a slight blow to
the loose bars; which fell, and the whole party entered the drain, led
by de Calviere, and soon found themselves at the farther end--that is to
say, in the Place de la Fontaine. They immediately formed into companies
twenty strong, four of which hastened to the principal gates, while the
others patrolled the streets shouting, "The city taken! Down with the
Papists! A new world!" Hearing this, the Protestants in the city
recognised their co-religionists, and the Catholics their opponents: but
whereas the former had been warned and were on the alert, the latter
were taken by surprise; consequently they offered no resistance, which,
however, did not prevent bloodshed. M. de St. Andre, the governor of the
town, who during his short period of office had drawn the bitter hatred
of the Protestants on him, was shot dead in his bed, and his body being
flung out of the window, was torn in pieces by the populace. The work of
murder went on all night, and on the morrow the victors in their turn
began an organised persecution, which fell more heavily on the Catholics
than that to which they had subjected the Protestants; for, as we have
explained above, the former could only find shelter in the plain, while
the latter used the Cevennes as a stronghold.
It was about this time that the peace, which was called, as we have
said, "the insecurely seated," was concluded. Two years later this name
was justified by the Massacre of St. Bartholomew.
When this event took place, the South, strange as it may seem, looked
on: in Nimes both Catholics and Protestants, stained with the other's
blood, faced each other, hand on hilt, but without drawing weapon. It
was as if they were curious to see how the Parisians would get through.
The massacre had one result, however, the union of the principal cities
of the South and West: Montpellier, Uzes, Montauban, and La Rochelle,
with Nimes at their head, formed a civil and military league to last, as
is declared in the Act of Federation, until God should raise up a
sovereign to be the defender of the Protestant faith. In the year 1775
the Protestants of the South began to turn their eyes towards Henri IV
as the coming defender.
At that date Nimes, setting an example to the other cities of the
League, deepened her moats, blew up her suburbs, and added to the height
of her ramparts. Night and day the work of perfecting the means of
defence went on; the guard at every gate was doubled, and knowing how
often a city had been taken by surprise, not a hole through which a
Papist could creep was left in the fortifications. In dread of what the
future might bring, Nimes even committed sacrilege against the past, and
partly demolished the Temple of Diana and mutilated the amphitheatre--of
which one gigantic stone was sufficient to form a section of the wall.
During one truce the crops were sown, during another they were garnered
in, and so things went on while the reign of the Mignons lasted. At
length the prince raised up by God, whom the Huguenots had waited for so
long, appeared; Henri IV ascended the, throne.
But once seated, Henri found himself in the same difficulty as had
confronted Octavius fifteen centuries earlier, and which confronted
Louis Philippe three centuries later--that is to say, having been raised
to sovereign power by a party which was not in the majority, he soon
found himself obliged to separate from this party and to abjure his
religious beliefs, as others have abjured or will yet abjure their
political beliefs; consequently, just as Octavius had his Antony, and
Louis Philippe was to have his Lafayette, Henri IV was to have his
Biron. When monarchs are in this position they can no longer have a will
of their own or personal likes and dislikes; they submit to the force of
circumstances, and feel compelled to rely on the masses; no sooner are
they freed from the ban under which they laboured than they are obliged
to bring others under it.
However, before having recourse to extreme measures, Henri IV with
soldierly frankness gathered round him all those who had been his
comrades of old in war and in religion; he spread out before them a map
of France, and showed them that hardly a tenth of the immense number of
its inhabitants were Protestants, and that even that tenth was shut up
in the mountains; some in Dauphine, which had been won for them by their
three principal leaders, Baron des Adrets, Captain Montbrun, and
Lesdiguieres; others in the Cevennes, which had become Protestant
through their great preachers, Maurice Secenat and Guillaume Moget; and
the rest in the mountains of Navarre, whence he himself had come. He
recalled to them further that whenever they ventured out of their
mountains they had been beaten in every battle, at Jarnac, at
Moncontour, and at Dreux. He concluded by explaining how impossible it
was for him, such being the case, to entrust the guidance of the State
to their party; but he offered them instead three things, viz., his
purse to supply their present needs, the Edict of Nantes to assure their
future safety, and fortresses to defend themselves should this edict one
day be revoked, for with profound insight the grandfather divined the
grandson: Henri IV feared Louis XIV.
The Protestants took what they were offered, but of course like all who
accept benefits they went away filled with discontent because they had
not been given more.
Although the Protestants ever afterwards looked on Henri IV as a
renegade, his reign nevertheless was their golden age, and while it
lasted Nines was quiet; for, strange to say, the Protestants took no
revenge for St. Bartholomew, contenting themselves with debarring the
Catholics from the open exercise of their religion, but leaving them
free to use all its rites and ceremonies in private. They even permitted
the procession of the Host through the streets in case of illness,
provided it took place at night. Of course death would not always wait
for darkness, and the Host was sometimes carried to the dying during the
day, not without danger to the priest, who, however, never let himself
be deterred thereby from the performance of his duty; indeed, it is of
the essence of religious devotion to be inflexible; and few soldiers,
however brave, have equalled the martyrs in courage.
During this time, taking advantage of the truce to hostilities and the
impartial protection meted out to all without distinction by the
Constable Damville, the Carmelites and Capuchins, the Jesuits and monks
of all orders and colours, began by degrees to return to Nines; without
any display, it is true, rather in a surreptitious manner, preferring
darkness to daylight; but however this may be, in the course of three or
four years they had all regained foothold in the town; only now they
were in the position in which the Protestants had been formerly, they
were without churches, as their enemies were in possession of all the
places of worship. It also happened that a Jesuit high in authority,
named Pere Coston, preached with such success that the Protestants, not
wishing to be beaten, but desirous of giving word for word, summoned to
their aid the Rev. Jeremie Ferrier, of Alais, who at the moment was
regarded as the most eloquent preacher they had. Needless to say, Alais
was situated in the mountains, that inexhaustible source of Huguenot
eloquence. At once the controversial spirit was aroused; it did not as
yet amount to war, but still less could it be called peace: people were
no longer assassinated, but they were anathematised; the body was safe,
but the soul was consigned to damnation: the days as they passed were
used by both sides to keep their hand in, in readiness for the moment
when the massacres should again begin.