Sympathy of the Genevese.
The ministers of Geneva, somewhat removed from the mists that prevented the greater part of the Huguenot leaders from descrying the perils environing them, had long foreseen the coming catastrophe, and had in vain implored Admiral Coligny, in particular, to have a greater care for his safety. "How often have I predicted it to him! How often have I warned him!" exclaimed Theodore Beza, in the first paroxysm of grief at the assassination of his noble friend.1209 The city government, participating in the same apprehensions, early in the fatal month of August, 1572, instructed some of the reformed ministers who had occasion to revisit their native land on private business, to hasten out of a country where they were exposed to the treachery of a Florentine woman.1210 Their solicitude was only too well grounded. On Saturday, the thirtieth of August, some merchants arrived in Geneva from Lyons, with the appalling intelligence that their Protestant countrymen were everywhere the victims of unparalleled cruelty. From the inn they went on without delay to the city hall, and narrated to the magistrates the revolting atrocities of which they had been eye-witnesses. They besought the city to prepare hospitable shelter and food for the throng of refugees who would soon make their appearance, having scarce escaped the bloody snares in which their brethren in great numbers had lost their lives.1211 "The frightful news," writes the historian of the Genevan church, describing the scene, "courses through the city with the speed of lightning: the shops are closed, and the citizens assemble on the public squares. They know, by past experience, the burdens and sacrifices that await men of good-will. Within doors, the women get in readiness an abundance of clothing, of medicines, and of food. The magistrates send wagons and litters to the villages of the district of Gex; and the peasants with their pastors take their station upon the border, to obtain intelligence and to render assistance to the first that may arrive. They have not long to wait. On the first of September a few travellers make their appearance, pale, worn out with fatigue, scarcely answering the greeting they receive. They cannot credit the reality of their deliverance. For days death has been lying in wait for them at the threshold of every village. Soon their numbers increase. The wounded uncover the wounds they have carefully concealed, that they might not be taken for reformers. They declare that, since the twenty-sixth of August, the country and the cities have been deluged with the blood of their brethren."1212
Nobly did the citizens of the little commonwealth welcome the scarred and bleeding confessors of their faith, contending with magnanimous rivalry for the most cruelly mangled, and carrying them in triumph into their homes and to their frugal boards. Not one refugee was suffered to find his way to the city hall; and there was no need of any public distribution of alms.1213 Within a few days twenty-three hundred families of French Protestants were gathered in the hospitable inclosure of Geneva. Besides those that subsequently returned to France, on the arrival of more propitious times, more than two hundred of these families yet remain, comprising the most honorable citizens of the republic.1214
A solemn fast was instituted. In the presence of the remarkable assembly gathered in the old cathedral of Saint Pierre, no word of threatening, no prayer for vengeance was uttered. But a firm conviction of the power and goodness of God seemed to dwell in every heart, and was uttered in impressive words by Theodore Beza – since Calvin's death, eight years before, the leading theologian of Geneva. "The hand of the Lord is not shortened," said the reformer. "He will not suffer a hair of our head to fall to the ground without His will. Let us not, therefore, be at all affrighted because of the plot of the men who have unjustly devised to put us all to death with our wives and our children. Let us rather be assured, that, if the Lord has ordained to deliver all or any of us, none shall be able to resist Him. If it shall please Him that we all die, let us not fear; for it is our Father's good pleasure to give us another home, which is the heavenly kingdom, in which there is no change, no poverty, no want, no tear, no crying, no mourning, no sorrow, but, on the contrary, eternal joy and blessedness. It is far better to be lodged with the beggar Lazarus in the bosom of Abraham, than with the rich man, with Cain, with Saul, with Herod, or with Judas, in hell. Meanwhile, we must drink the cup which the Lord has prepared for us, each according to his portion. We must not be ashamed of the Cross of Christ, nor be loth to drink the gall of which He has first drunk: knowing that our sorrow shall be turned into joy, and that we shall laugh in our turn, when the wicked shall weep and gnash their teeth."1215
Twenty Huguenot pastors from France were among the refugees, and were kindly invited to take part in the honorable office of preaching in the churches. They preferred, however, to sit among the hearers, and listen to the sermons of Beza and his venerated colleagues.1216
Their generosity and danger.
Heaven smiled on the generous hospitality of the little republic. The plague, which had been raging in Geneva, disappeared simultaneously with the arrival of the fugitives from France.1217 Still the burden which their hosts had assumed was by no means light. They were not rich, and the rigorous winter that followed would have reduced them to great straits even without this additional drain upon their resources. Besides, they had incurred the dangerous enmity of the King of France. While professing deep gratitude to the Genevese for the advice they had given to the Protestants of Nismes to liberate the agents of the royal court, who had been sent to procure their destruction, but had been discovered and incarcerated, Charles the Ninth was in secret plotting the ruin of the city which furnished an asylum to so many of his persecuted subjects. At one time the danger was imminent. The Duke of Savoy was reported to have collected an army of eighteen thousand men near Chambéry and Annecy, while rumors of domestic treachery took so definite a form, that it was said that two hundred papal soldiers in the disguise of Protestant refugees were lurking in Geneva itself. On the other hand, the Roman Catholic cantons of Fribourg and Soleure, when on the point of joining Berne and Zurich in sending assistance, undertook to stipulate for the reinstatement of the mass within the walls of Geneva; and the Genevese, who, whatever other faults they might possess, were no cowards, declined an alliance upon such conditions.1218 But the threatened contest of arms never came. By one of those strange turns of affairs, which, from their frequent recurrence in the history of Geneva, an impartial beholder can scarcely interpret otherwise than as interpositions of providence in behalf of a city that was destined for ages to be a safe refuge for the oppressed confessors of a purer faith, the storm was dissipated as rapidly as it had gathered. The bodily ailments of Charles the Ninth were, humanly speaking, the salvation of Geneva.1219
In other parts of Switzerland the King of France made great efforts to counteract the injurious influence upon his interests which the intelligence of the massacre could but exert. Almost immediately after the events of the last week of August, the royal ambassador, Monsieur de la Fontaine, and the treasurer whom the French monarch was accustomed to keep in Switzerland, were instructed to write out an account for the benefit of his Majesty's "best and perfect friends," "the magnificent seigniors," wherein among the numerous falsehoods with which they attempted to feed the unsophistical mountaineers, was at least a single truth: "This young and magnanimous prince, since his accession to the throne, has, so to speak, reaped only thorns in place of a sceptre."1220
Impression at Baden.
A little later M. de Bellièvre, his special envoy at the diet of Baden, was profuse in assurances to the effect that the deed was not premeditated, but had been rendered necessary by the machinations of the admiral – "a wretched man, or rather, not a man, but a furious and irreconcilable beast who had lost all fear of God and man." He particularly defended the king from all responsibility for the excesses that had been committed, insisting that it was the people that "had taken the bit in its teeth," while Charles, Anjou, and Alençon, did their best to check its mad impetuosity, and Catharine felt "unspeakable regret."1221 But the envoy had little reason to congratulate himself upon his success. "Sire," he wrote with some disgust to his master, "it is all but impossible to get it out of the heads of the Protestants, that your Majesty's intention is to join the rest of the Catholic princes, in order by force to put (the decrees of) the Council of Trent into execution in their countries." They would not be satisfied entirely by Bellièvre's plausible explanations. "Simple and rude people are violently excited by such things, and are very difficult to be reassured."1222
Medals and vindications.
Charles the Ninth stood convicted in the eyes of the world of a great crime. No elaborate vindications, by their sophistry, or by barefaced misstatements of facts, could clear him, in the judgment of impartial men of either creed, from the guilt of such a butchery of his subjects as scarcely another monarch on record had ever perpetrated. Medals were early struck in honor of the event, upon which "valor and piety" – the king's motto – were represented as gloriously exhibited in the destruction of rebels and heretics.1223 But the wise regarded it as "a cruelty worse than Scythian," and deplored the realm where "neither piety nor justice restrained the malice and sword of the raging populace."1224 The Protestants of all countries – and they were his natural allies against Spanish ambition for world-empire – had forever lost confidence in the honor of Charles of Valois.
Multis minatur, qui uni facit, injuriam
"If that king be author and doer of this act," wrote the Earl of Leicester, expressing the common judgment of the civilized world, "shame and confusion light upon him; be he never so strong in the sight of men, the Lord hath not His power for naught… If he continue in confirming the fact, and allowing the persons that did it, then must he be a prince detested of all honest men, what religion soever they have; for as his fact was ugly, so was it inhumane. For whom should a man trust, if not his prince's word; and these men he hath put to slaughter, not only had his word, but his writing, and not public, but private, with open proclamations and all other manner of declarations that could be devised for the safety, which now being violated and broken, who can believe and trust him?"1225
Disastrous effects of the massacre on Charles himself.
Upon the king himself the results of the fearful atrocities which he had been induced by his mother and brother to sanction, were equally lasting and disastrous. The change was startling even to those who were its chief cause: from a gentle boy he had become transformed into a morose and cruel man. "The king is grown now so bloody-minded," writes one who enjoyed good opportunities of observing him, "as they that advised him thereto do repent the same, and do fear that the old saying will prove true," "Malum consilium consultori pessimum."1226 The story of the frenzy of Charles who, on one occasion, seemed to be resolved to take the lives of Navarre and Condé, unless they should instantly recant, and was only prevented by the entreaties of his young wife, may be exaggerated.1227 But certain it is that the unhappy king was the victim of haunting memories of the past, which, while continually robbing him of peace of mind, sometimes drove him to the borders of madness. Agrippa d'Aubigné tells us, on the often repeated testimony of Henry of Navarre, that one night, a week after the massacre, Charles leaped up in affright from his bed, and summoned his gentlemen of the bedchamber, as well as his brother-in-law, to listen to a confused sound of cries of distress and lamentations, similar to that which he had heard on the eventful night of the butchery. So convinced was he that his ears had not deceived him, that he gave orders that the new attack which he fancied to be made upon the partisans of Montmorency should at once be repressed by his guards. It was not until the soldiers returned with the assurance that everything was quiet throughout the city, that he consented to retire to his rest again. For an entire week the delusive cries seemed to return at the self-same hour.1228 These fancies – the creations of his fevered brain – may soon have left him, not to return until the general closing in at the death-bed. But there were marks of the violence of the passions of which he was the victim in his altered mien and deportment. Even before the event that has fixed upon him an infamous notoriety, he acted at times like a madman in the indulgence of his whims and coarse tastes. Sir Thomas Smith, five months before the fatal St. Bartholomew's Day, wrote of "his inordinate hunting, so early in the morning and so late at night, without sparing frost, snow or rain, and in so desperate doings as makes her (his mother) and them that love him to be often in great fear."1229 But now the picture, as faithfully drawn by the friendly hand of the Venetian ambassador, early in the year 1574, is still more pitiful. His countenance had become sad and forbidding. When obliged to give audience to the representatives of foreign powers, as well as in his ordinary interviews, he avoided the glance of those who addressed him. He bent his head toward the ground and shut his eyes. At short intervals he would open them with a start, and in a moment, as though the effort caused him pain, he would close them again with no less suddenness. "It is feared," adds the writer, "that the spirit of vengeance has taken possession of him; formerly he was only severe, now his friends dread lest he will become cruel." He must at all hazards find hard work to do. He was on horseback for twelve or fourteen consecutive hours, and pursued the same deer for two or three days, stopping only to take nourishment, or snatch a little rest at night. His hands were scarred and callous. When in the palace, his passion for violent exercise drove him to the forge, where for three or four hours he would work without intermission, with a ponderous hammer fashioning a cuirass or some other piece of armor, and exhibiting more pride in being able to tire out his gentle competitors, than in more royal accomplishments.1230 We have no means of tracing accurately the influence of the massacre upon others. The Abbé Brantôme, however, early pointed out the remarkable fact that of those who took a principal part in the work of murder and rapine many soon after met with violent deaths, either at the siege of La Rochelle or in the ensuing wars, and that the riches they had so iniquitously accumulated profited them little.1231
How far was the Roman Church responsible?
Before dismissing the consideration of the stupendous crime for which Divine vengeance – to use the words of Sully – "made France atone by twenty-six consecutive years of disaster, carnage, and horror,"1232 it is at once interesting and important to glance at a historical question which still agitates the world, and for a correct and impartial solution of which we are, perhaps, more favorably situated than were even the contemporaries of the event. I allude to the inquiry respecting the extent to which the Roman Church, and the Pope in particular, must be held responsible for the Massacre of St. Bartholomew's Day.
So far as Queen Catharine was concerned (and the same is true of some of her advisers), it is admitted by all that no zeal for religion controlled her conduct. A dissolute and ambitious woman, and, moreover, almost an avowed atheist, she could not have acted from a sincere but mistaken belief that it was her duty to exterminate heresy. But among the inferior agents it can scarcely be doubted that there were some who believed themselves to be doing God service in ridding the world of the enemies of His church. Had not the preachers in their sermons extolled the deed as the most meritorious that could be performed, and as furnishing an unquestionable passport to paradise? The number, however, of these religious assassins – if so we may style them – could be but small in comparison with the multitude of those to whom religion served merely as a pretext, while cupidity or partisan hatred was the true motive; men who, nevertheless, derived their incentive from the lessons of their spiritual guides, and who would never have dreamed of giving loose rein to their passions, but for the suggestions of these sanguinary teachers. At the bar of history the priesthood that countenanced assassination must be held no less accountable for the actions of this class than for the deeds of more sincere devotees.
It is immaterial to the question of the responsibility of the Papal Church, whether the queen mother and the king's ministers were honest, or were Roman Catholics, or, indeed, Christians only in name. If the Pope had for years, by letter and by his accredited agents, been insinuating that the life of a heretic was a thing of little value; if he systematically advocated a war of extermination, and opposed every negotiation for peace, every truce, every edict of pacification that did not look to the annihilation of the Huguenots; if he had familiarized the minds of king and queen with the thought of justifiable massacre, it is of little importance to ascertain whether his too ready pupils executed the injunction from a pure desire to further the interests of the Papal See, or with more selfish designs. Unfortunately for humanity and for religion, the course I have indicated was that which had been consistently and indefatigably pursued during the entire pontificate of Pius the Fifth, and during the few months that had elapsed since the election of his successor.
Gregory probably not aware of the intended massacre.
Contrary to the firm persuasion of the Protestants who wrote contemporary accounts of the massacre, we must in all probability, as we have already seen,1233 acquit Gregory the Thirteenth of any knowledge of the disaster impending over the admiral and the Huguenots. It was what he wished for and prayed for, but with little hope of seeing the accomplishment. In fact, he was brought to the verge of despair in respect to the hold of the papacy upon the kingdom of France. Nuncio Salviati, at Paris, had, indeed, conceived the hope that some disaster would befall the Huguenots in consequence of Coligny's imprudence and the desperation of the queen mother and of the Roman Catholic party at finding the authority slipping from their hands. But his astonishment and that of the pontiff at the general massacre of the Protestants was surpassed only by their common delight. The fragments of the despatches from Salviati to the Roman secretary of state, which have been suffered to find their way into print, seem to settle this point beyond all controversy.
Pius the Fifth instigates the French court.
He indorses the cruelties of Alva.
We have in previous chapters seen the Pope assisting Charles with money and troops in the prosecution of the last two wars against the Huguenots. But this aid was accompanied with perpetual exhortations to do the work thoroughly, and not to repeat the mistakes committed by his predecessors. "That heresy cannot be tolerated in the same kingdom with the worship of the Catholic religion," writes Pius the Fifth to Sigismund Augustus of Poland, "is proved by that very example of the kingdom of France, which your Majesty brings up for the purpose of excusing yourself. If the former kings of France had not suffered this evil to grow by neglect and indulgence, they would easily have been able to extirpate heresy and secure the peace and quiet of their realm."1234 Of all the leaders of the day, the Duke of Alva alone earned, by his unrelenting destruction of heretics, the unqualified approval of the pontiff. When the tidings of the successes of the "Blood Council" reached Rome, Pius could not contain himself for joy. He must congratulate the duke, and spur him on in a course upon which the blessing of Heaven so manifestly rested. "Nothing can occur to us," said he, "more glorious for the dignity of the Church, or more delightful to the truly paternal disposition of our mind to all men, than when we perceive that warriors and very brave generals, such as we previously knew you to be and now find you in this most perilous war, consult not their own interest, nor their own glory alone, but war in behalf of that Almighty God who stands ready to crown His soldiers contending for Him and His glory, not with a corruptible crown, but with one that is eternal and fadeth not away."1235
He repeatedly counsels exterminating the Huguenots.
With this express indorsement of Alva's merciless cruelty before us, it is not difficult to understand what Pius demanded of Charles of France. Early in 1569, while sending the Duke of Sforza with auxiliaries, he wrote to the king: "When God shall by His kindness have given to you and to us, as we hope, the victory, it will be your duty to punish the heretics and their leaders with all severity, and thus justly to avenge not only your own wrongs, but those of Almighty God: in order that, by your execution of the righteous judgment of God, they may pay the penalty which they have deserved by their crimes."1236 After the battle of Jarnac and Condé's death, we have seen that Pius wrote promptly, bidding Charles "pursue and destroy the remnants of the enemy, and wholly tear up not only the roots of an evil so great and which had gathered to itself such strength, but even the very fibres of the roots." He begged him not to spare those who had not spared God nor their king.1237 To Catharine and to the Duke of Anjou, to the Cardinal of Bourbon, and to the Cardinal of Lorraine, the same language was addressed. Again and again the Pope held up the example of Saul, who disregarded the commands of the Lord through Samuel and spared the Amalekites, as a solemn warning against disobedience. To the queen mother he said: "Under no circumstances and from no considerations ought the enemies of God to be spared.1238 If your Majesty shall continue, as heretofore, to seek with right purpose of mind and a simple heart the honor of Almighty God, and shall assail the foes of the Catholic religion openly and freely even to extermination,1239 be well assured that the Divine assistance will never fail, and that still greater victories will be prepared by God for you and for the king your son, until, when all shall have been destroyed, the pristine worship of the Catholic religion shall be restored to that most illustrious realm."1240 The Duke of Anjou was urged to incite his brother to punish the rebels with great severity, and to be inexorable in refusing the prayers of all who would intercede for them.1241 Charles was given to understand that if, induced by any motives, he should defer the punishment of God's enemies, he would certainly tempt the Divine patience to change to anger.1242
The victory of Moncontour furnished an occasion for fresh exhortations to the king not to neglect to inflict upon the enemies of Almighty God the punishments fixed by the laws. "For what else would this be," said Pius, "than to make of no effect the blessing of God, namely, victory itself, whose fruit indeed consists in this, that by just punishment the execrable heretics, common enemies, having been taken away, the former peace and tranquillity should be restored to the kingdom. And do not allow yourself, by the suggestion of the empty name of pity, to be deceived so far as to seek, by pardoning Divine injuries, to obtain false praise for compassion; for nothing is more cruel than that pity and compassion which is extended to the impious and those who deserve the worst of torments."1243 The work begun by victories in the field was, therefore, to be completed by the institution of inquisitors of the faith in every city, and the adoption of such other measures as might, with God's help, at length create the kingdom anew and restore it to its former state.1244
As often as rumors of negotiations for peace reached him, Pius was in anguish of soul, and wrote to Charles, to Catharine, to Anjou, to the French cardinals, in almost the same words. He protested that, as light has no communion with darkness, so no compact between Catholics and heretics could be other than feigned and full of treachery.1245 As the prospect of peace grew more distinct, his prognostications of coming disaster grew darker, and sounded almost like threats. Even if the heretics, in concluding the peace, had no intention of laying snares, God would put it into their minds as a punishment to the king. "Now, how fearful a thing it is to fall into the hands of the living God, who is wont not only to chastise the corrupt manners of men by war, but, on account of the sins of kings and people, to dash kingdoms in pieces, and to transfer them from their ancient masters to new ones, is too evident to need to be proved by examples."1246 When at last the peace of Saint Germain was definitely concluded, the Pope did not cease to lament over "a pacification in which the conquered heretics imposed upon the victorious king conditions so horrible and so pernicious that he could not speak of them without tears." And he expressed at the same time his paternal fears lest the young Charles and those who had consented to the unholy compact would be given over to a reprobate mind, that seeing they might not see, and hearing they might not hear.1247
To his last breath Pius retained the same thirst for the blood of the heretics of France. He violently opposed the marriage of the king's sister to Henry of Navarre, and instructed his envoy at the French court to bring up again that "matter of conciliation so fatal to the Catholics."1248 His last letters are as sanguinary as his first. Meanwhile his acts corresponded with his words, and left the King of France and his mother in no doubt respecting the value which the pretended vicegerent of God upon earth, and the future Saint,1249 set upon the life of a heretic; for, when the town of Mornas was on one occasion captured by the Roman Catholic forces, and a number of prisoners were taken, Pius – "such," his admiring biographer informs us, "was his burning zeal for religion" – ransomed them from the hands of their captors, that he might have the satisfaction of ordering their public execution in the pontifical city of Avignon!1250 And when the same holy father learned that Count Santa Fiore, the commander of the papal troops sent to Charles's assistance, had accepted the offer of a ransom for the life of a distinguished Huguenot nobleman, he wrote to him complaining bitterly that he had disobeyed his orders, which were that every heretic that fell into his hands should straightway be put to death.1251 As, however, Pius wanted not Huguenot treasure, but Huguenot blood, with more consistency than at first appears, he ordered the captive nobleman whose head had been spared to be released without ransom.1252
With such continual papal exhortations to bloodshed, before us, with such suggestive examples of the treatment which heretics ought, according to the pontiff, to receive, and in the light of the extravagant joy displayed at Rome over the consummation of the massacre, we can scarcely hesitate to find the head of the Roman Catholic Church guilty – if not, by a happy accident, of having known or devised the precise mode of its execution, at least of having long instigated and paved the way for the commission of the crime. Without the teachings of Pius the Fifth, the conspiracy of Catharine and Anjou would have been almost impossible. Without the preaching of priests and friars at Lent and Advent, the passions of the low populace could not have been inflamed to such a pitch as to render it capable of perpetrating atrocities which will forever render the reign of Charles the Ninth infamous in the French annals.
A German account of the massacre at Orleans.
One of the most vivid accounts of the massacre in any city outside of Paris is the contemporary narrative of Johann Wilhelm von Botzheim, a young German, who was at the time pursuing his studies in Orleans. It forms the sequel to the description of the Parisian massacre, to which reference has already been made several times, and was first published by Dr. F. W. Ebeling, in his "Archivalische Beiträge zur Geschichte Frankreichs unter Carl IX." (Leipsic, 1872), 129-189. It was also translated into French by M. Charles Read, for the number of the Bulletin de la Société de l'histoire du protestantisme français issued on the occasion of the tercentenary of the Massacre of St. Bartholomew's Day. The chief interest of the narration centres in the anxieties and dangers of the little community of Germans in attendance upon the famous law school. Besides this, however, much light is thrown upon the general features of the bloody transactions. The first intimation of Coligny's wounding reached the Protestants as they were returning from the prêche, but created less excitement because of the statement accompanying it, that Charles was greatly displeased at the occurrence. That night a messenger arrived with letters addressed to the provost of the city, announcing the death of the admiral and the Huguenots of Paris, and enjoining the like execution at Orleans. Although the letters bore the royal seal, the information they contained appeared so incredible that the provost commanded the messenger to be imprisoned until two captains, whom he at once despatched to Paris, returned bringing full confirmation of the story. The provost, a man averse to bloodshed, issued, early on Monday morning as a precautionary measure, an order to guard the city gates. But the control of affairs rapidly passed out of his hands, and, threatened with death because of his moderate counsels, the provost was himself forced to take refuge for safety in the citadel. Ten captains at the head of as many bands of soldiers, ruled the city, and were foremost in the work of murder and rapine that now ensued. But there were other bands engaged in the same occupation, not to speak of single persons acting strictly on their own account. Moreover, four hundred ruffians came in from the country, intent upon making up for losses which they pretended to have sustained during the late civil wars. They showed no mercy to the Huguenots that fell into their hands. Of the Protestants scarcely one made resistance, so hopeless was their situation. Pierre Pillier, a bell founder, had indeed barred his door with iron, but, finding that his assailants were on the point of forcing the entrance, he first threw his money from a window, and then, seizing his opportunity when the miscreants were scrambling for their prize, deluged them with molten lead, after which he set fire to his house, and perished, with his wife and children, in the flames.