Chapter IX (1)

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?]