Henty George Alfred
Saint Bartholomew's Eve: A Tale of the Huguenot Wars
"You, sir," he said to one of the prisoners, "appear to me to be the oldest of the party. At daybreak you will be released; and will bear, to your colleagues in the city, the news that these nine persons are prisoners in my hands. You will state that, if any body of men approaches this place from any quarter, these nine persons will at once be hung up to the branches above us. You will say that I hold them as hostages for the four prisoners, and that I demand that these shall be sent out here, with their horses and the arms of my two friends, and under the escort of two unarmed troopers.
"These gentlemen here will, before you start, sign a document ordering the said prisoners at once to be released; and will also sign a solemn undertaking, which will be handed over to Monsieur de Merouville, pledging themselves that, should he and his wife choose to return to their chateau, no harm shall ever happen to them; and no accusation, of any sort, in the future be brought against them.
"I may add that, should at any time this guarantee be broken, I shall consider it my duty, the moment I hear of the event, to return to this neighbourhood; and assuredly I will hang the signatories of the guarantee over their own door posts, and will burn their villas to the ground. I know the value of oaths sworn to Huguenots; but in this case, I think they will be kept, for I swear to you–and I am in the habit of keeping my oaths–that if you break your undertaking, I will not break mine."
As soon as it was daylight, Pierre produced from his saddlebag an ink horn, paper, and pens; and the ten prisoners signed their name to an order for the release of the four captives. They then wrote another document, to be handed by their representative to the governor, begging him to see that the order was executed, informing him of the position they were in, and that their lives would certainly be forfeited, unless the prisoners were released without delay. They also earnestly begged him to send out orders, to the armed forces who were searching for the Huguenots, bidding them make no movement, whatever, until after midday.
The councillor was then mounted on a horse and escorted, by two of the men-at-arms, to within a quarter of a mile of the nearest gate of the city. The men were to return with his horse. The councillor was informed that ten o'clock was the limit given for the return of the prisoners; and that, unless they had by that hour arrived, it would be supposed that the order for their release would not be respected, and in that case the nine hostages would be hung forthwith; and that, in the course of a night or two, another batch would be carried off.
Philip had little fear, however, that there would be any hesitation, upon the part of those in the town, in acting upon the order signed by so many important persons; for the death of the president, and several of the leading members of the parliament, would create such an outcry against the governor, by their friends and relatives, that he would not venture to refuse the release of four prisoners, of minor importance, in order to save their lives.
After the messenger had departed, Philip had the guarantee for the safety of Monsieur de Merouville and his wife drawn up and signed, in duplicate.
"One of these documents," he said, "I shall give to Monsieur de Merouville. The other I shall keep myself, so that, if this solemn guarantee is broken, I shall have this as a justification for the execution of the perjured men who signed it."
The time passed slowly. Some of the prisoners walked anxiously and impatiently to and fro, looking continually towards the town. Others sat in gloomy silence, too humiliated at their present position even to talk to one another.
The soldiers, on the contrary, were in high spirits. They rejoiced at the prospect of the return of their two leaders, and they felt proud of having taken part in such an exploit as the capture of the chief men of the dreaded parliament of Toulouse. Four of them kept a vigilant guard over the prisoners. The rest ate their breakfast with great gusto, and laughed and joked at the angry faces of some of their prisoners.
It was just nine o'clock when a small group of horsemen were seen in the distance.
"I think there are six of them, sir," Eustace said.
"That is the right number, Eustace. The lady is doubtless riding behind her husband. Two men are the escort, and the other is, no doubt, the councillor we released, who is now acting as guide to this spot.
"Bring my horse, Pierre," and, mounting, Philip rode off to meet the party.
He was soon able to make out the figures of Francois and D'Arblay and, putting his horse to a gallop, was speedily alongside of them.
"What miracle is this?" Monsieur D'Arblay asked, after the first greeting was over. "At present we are all in a maze. We were in separate dungeons, and the prospect looked as hopeless as it could well do; when the doors opened and an officer, followed by two soldiers bearing our armour and arms, entered and told us to attire ourselves. What was meant we could not imagine. We supposed we were going to be led before some tribunal; but why they should arm us, before taking us there, was more than we could imagine.
"We met in the courtyard of the prison, and were stupefied at seeing our horses saddled and bridled there, and Monsieur De Merouville and his wife already mounted. Two unarmed troopers were also there, and this gentleman, who said sourly:
"'Mount, sirs, I am going to lead you to your friends.'
"We looked at each other, to see if we were dreaming, but you may imagine we were not long in leaping into our saddles.
"This gentleman has not been communicative. In fact, by his manner, I should say he is deeply disgusted at the singular mission with which he was charged; and on the ride here Francois, Monsieur de Merouville, and myself have exhausted ourselves in conjectures as to how this miracle has come about."
"Wait two or three minutes longer," Philip said, with a smile. "When you get to yonder trees, you will receive an explanation."
Francois and Monsieur D'Arblay gazed in surprise at the figures of nine men, all in scanty raiments, wrapped up in cloaks, and evidently guarded by the men-at-arms, who set up a joyous shout as they rode in. Monsieur de Merouville uttered an exclamation of astonishment, as he recognized the dreaded personages collected together in such a plight.
"Monsieur de Merouville," Philip said, "I believe you know these gentlemen by sight.
"Monsieur D'Arblay and Francois, you are not so fortunate as to be acquainted with them; and I have pleasure in introducing to you the President of the Parliament of Toulouse, the Judge of the High Court, and other councillors, all gentlemen of consideration. It has been my misfortune to have had to treat these gentlemen with scant courtesy, but the circumstances left me no choice.
"Monsieur de Merouville, here is a document, signed by these nine gentlemen, giving a solemn undertaking that you and Madame shall be, in future, permitted to reside in your chateau without the slightest let or hindrance; and that you shall suffer no molestation, whatever, either on account of this affair, or on the question of religion. I have a duplicate of this document; and have, on my part, given an undertaking that, if its terms are broken I will, at whatever inconvenience to myself, return to this neighbourhood, hang these ten gentlemen if I can catch them, and at any rate burn their chateaux to the ground. Therefore I think, as you have their undertaking and mine, you can without fear return home; but this, of course, I leave to yourself to decide.
"Gentlemen, you are now free to return to your homes; and I trust this lesson–that we, on our part, can strike, if necessary–will have some effect in moderating your zeal for persecution."
Without a word, the president and his companions walked away in a body. The troopers began to jeer and laugh, but Philip held up his hand for silence.
"There need be no extra scorn," he said. "These gentlemen have been sufficiently humiliated."
"And you really fetched all these good gentlemen from their beds," D'Arblay said, bursting into a fit of laughter. "Why, it was worth being taken prisoner, were it only for the sake of seeing them. They looked like a number of old owls, suddenly disturbed by daylight–some of them round eyed with astonishment, some of them hissing menacingly. By my faith, Philip, it will go hard with you, if you ever fall into the hands of those worthies.
"But a truce to jokes. We owe you our lives, Philip; of that there is not a shadow of doubt. Though I have no more fear than another of death in battle, I own that I have a dread of being tortured and burned. It was a bold stroke, thus to carry off the men who have been the leaders of the persecution against us."
"There was nothing in the feat, if it can be called a feat," Philip said. "Of course, directly we heard that you had been seized and carried into Toulouse, I cast about for the best means to save you. To attempt it by force would have been simple madness; and any other plan would have required time, powerful friends, and a knowledge of the city, and even then we should probably have failed to get you out of prison. This being so, it was evident that the best plan was to seize some of the citizens of importance, who might serve as hostages. There was no difficulty in finding out, from a small cultivator, who were the principal men living outside the walls; and their capture was as easy a business. Scarcely a blow was struck, and no lives lost, in capturing the whole of them."
"But some of the men are missing," D'Arblay said.
"Yes; five of your men, I am sorry to say. On getting back to the wood after dark I sent them, as you ordered, to fetch you from Monsieur de Merouville's; but of course you had been captured before that, and they fell into an ambush that was laid for them, and were all killed."
"That is a bad business, Philip.
"Well, Monsieur de Merouville, will you go with us, or will you trust in this safeguard?"
"In the first place, you have not given me a moment's opportunity of thanking this gentleman; not only for having saved the lives of my wife and myself, but for the forethought and consideration with which he has, in the midst of his anxiety for you and Monsieur de Laville, shown for us who were entire strangers to him.
"Be assured, Monsieur Fletcher, that we are deeply grateful. I hope that some time in the future, should peace ever again be restored to France, we may be able to meet you again, and express more warmly the obligations we feel towards you."
Madame de Merouville added a few words of gratitude, and then D'Arblay broke in with:
"De Merouville, you must settle at once whether to go with us, or stay on the faith of this safeguard. We have no such protection and, if we linger here, we shall be having half a dozen troops of horse after us. You may be sure they will be sent off, as soon as the president and his friends reach the city; and if we were caught again, we should be in an even worse plight than before. Do you talk it over with Madame and, while you are doing so, Francois and I will drink a flask of wine, and eat anything we can find here; for they forgot to give us breakfast before they sent us off, and it is likely we shall not have another opportunity, for some hours."
"What do you think, Monsieur Fletcher?" Monsieur de Merouville said, after speaking for a few minutes with his wife; "will they respect this pledge? If not we must go, but we are both past the age when we can take up life anew. My property would, of course, be confiscated, and we should be penniless among strangers."
"I think they will respect the pledge," Philip replied. "I assured them, so solemnly, that any breach of their promises would be followed by prompt vengeance upon themselves and their homes, that I feel sure they will not run the risk. Two or three among them might possibly do so, but the others would restrain them. I believe that you can safely return; and that, for a long time, at any rate, you will be unmolested.
"Still, if I might advise, I should say sell your property, as soon as you can find a purchaser at any reasonable price; and then remove, either to La Rochelle or cross the sea to England. You may be sure that there will be a deep and bitter hatred against you, by those whose humiliation you have witnessed."
"Thank you. I will follow your advice, Monsieur Fletcher; and I hope that I may, ere long, have the pleasure of seeing you, and of worthily expressing our deep sense of the debt of gratitude we owe you."
Five minutes later the troop mounted and rode away, while Monsieur de Merouville, with his wife behind him, started for home.
"I hope, Francois," D'Arblay said, as they galloped off from the wood, "that the next time I ride on an expedition your kinsman may again be with me, for he has wit and resources that render him a valuable companion, indeed."
"I had great hopes, even when I was in prison, and things looked almost as bad as they could be," Francois said, "that Philip would do something to help us. I had much faith in his long headedness; and so has the countess, my mother. She said to me, when we started:
"'You are older than Philip, Francois; but you will act wisely if, in cases of difficulty, you defer your opinions to his. His training has given him self reliance and judgment, and he has been more in the habit of thinking for himself than you have,' and certainly he has fully justified her opinion.
"Where do you propose to ride next, D'Arblay?"
"For La Rochelle. I shall not feel safe until I am within the walls. Presidents of Parliament, judges of High Court, and dignified functionaries are not to be dragged from their beds with impunity. Happily it will take them an hour and a half to walk back to the town; or longer, perhaps, for they will doubtless go first to their own homes. They will never show themselves, in such sorry plight, in the streets of the city where they are accustomed to lord it; so we may count on at least two hours before they can take any steps. After that, they will move heaven and earth to capture us. They will send out troops of horse after us, and messengers to every city in the province, calling upon the governors to take every means to seize us.
"We have collected a good sum of money, and carried out the greater portion of our mission. We shall only risk its loss, as well as the loss of our own lives, by going forward. The horses are fresh, and we will put as many miles between us and Toulouse as they can carry us, before nightfall."
The return journey was accomplished without misadventure. They made no more halts than were required to rest their horses and, travelling principally at night, they reached La Rochelle without having encountered any body of the enemy.
While they had been absent, the army of Conde and the Admiral had marched into Lorraine and, eluding the forces that barred his march, effected a junction with the German men-at-arms who had been brought to their aid by the Duke Casimir, the second son of the Elector Palatine. However, the Germans refused to march a step farther, unless they received the pay that had been agreed upon before they started.
Conde's treasury was empty, and he had no means, whatever, of satisfying their demand. In vain Duke Casimir, himself, tried to persuade his soldiers to defer their claims, and to trust their French co-religionists to satisfy their demands, later on. They were unanimous in their refusal to march a step, until they obtained their money.
The Admiral then addressed himself to his officers and soldiers. He pointed out to them that, at the present moment, everything depended upon their obtaining the assistance of the Germans–who were, indeed, only demanding their rights, according to the agreement that had been made with them–and he implored them to come to the assistance of the prince and himself at this crisis. So great was his influence among his soldiers that his appeal was promptly and generally acceded to, and officers and men alike stripped themselves of their chains, jewels, money, and valuables of all kinds, and so made up the sum required to satisfy the Germans.
As soon as this important affair had been settled, the united army turned its face again westward; with the intention of giving battle, anew, under the walls of Paris. It was, however, terribly deficient in artillery, powder, and stores of all kinds and, the military chest being empty and the soldiers without pay, it was necessary, on the march, to exact contributions from the small Catholic towns and villages through which the army marched and, in spite of the orders of the Admiral, a certain amount of pillage was carried on by the soldiers.
Having recruited the strength of his troops, by a short stay at Orleans, the Admiral moved towards Paris. Since the commencement of the war, negotiations had been going on fitfully. When the court thought that the Huguenots were formidable, they pushed on the negotiations in earnest. Whenever, upon the contrary, they believed that the royal forces would be able to crush those of the Admiral, the negotiations at once came to a standstill.
During the Admiral's long march to the east, they would grant no terms whatever that could possibly be accepted; but as soon as the junction was effected with Duke Casimir and his Germans, and the Huguenot army again turned its face to Paris, the court became eager to conclude peace. When the Prince of Conde's army arrived before Chartres the negotiators met, and the king professed a readiness to grant so many concessions, that it seemed as if the objects of the Huguenots could be attained without further fighting, and the Cardinal of Chatillon and some Huguenot nobles went forward to have a personal conference with the royal commissioners, at Lonjumeau.
After much discussion, the points most insisted upon by the Huguenots were conceded, and the articles of a treaty drawn up, copies of which were sent to Paris and Chartres. The Admiral and Conde both perceived that, in the absence of any guarantees for the observance of the conditions to which the other side bound themselves, the treaty would be of little avail; as it could be broken, as soon as the army now menacing Paris was scattered. The feeling among the great portion of the nobles and their followers was, however, strongly in favour of the conditions being accepted.
The nobles were becoming beggared by the continuance of the war, the expenses of which had, for the most part, to be paid from their private means. Their followers, indeed, received no pay; but they had to be fed, and their estates were lying untilled for want of hands. Their men were eager to return to their farms and families, and so strong and general was the desire for peace that the Admiral and Conde bowed to it.
They agreed to the terms and, pending their ratification, raised the siege of Chartres. Already their force was dwindling rapidly. Large numbers marched away to their homes, without even asking for leave; and their leaders soon ceased to be in a position to make any demands for guarantees, and the peace of Lonjumeau was therefore signed.
Its provisions gave very little more to the Huguenots than that of the preceding arrangement of the same kind, and the campaign left the parties in much the same position as they had occupied before the Huguenots took up arms.
Chapter 8: The Third Huguenot War
Before the treaty of Lonjumeau had been signed many weeks, the Huguenots were sensible of the folly they had committed, in throwing away all the advantages they had gained in the war, by laying down their arms upon the terms of a treaty made by a perfidious woman and a weak and unstable king, with advisers bent upon destroying the reformed religion. They had seen former edicts of toleration first modified and then revoked, and they had no reason even to hope that the new treaty, which had been wrung from the court by its fears, would be respected by it.
The Huguenots were not surprised to find, therefore, that as soon as they had sent back their German auxiliaries and returned to their homes–the ink, indeed, was scarcely dry on the paper upon which the treaty was written–its conditions were virtually annulled. From the pulpit of every Catholic church in France, the treaty was denounced in the most violent language; and it was openly declared that there could be no peace with the Huguenots. These, as they returned home, were murdered in great numbers and, in many of the cities, the mobs rose and massacred the defenceless Protestants.
Heavy as had been the persecutions before the outbreak of the war, they were exceeded by those that followed it. Some of the governors of the provinces openly refused to carry out the conditions of the treaty. Charles issued a proclamation that the edict was not intended to include any of the districts that were appanages of his mother, or of any of the royal or Bourbon princes. In the towns the soldiers were quartered upon the Huguenots, whom they robbed and ill treated at their pleasure; and during the six months that this nominal peace lasted, no less than ten thousand Huguenots were slaughtered in various parts of France.
"The Prince of Conde, the Admiral, his brothers, and our other leaders may be skilful generals and brave men," the Countess de Laville said indignantly to Francois when, with the troop, reduced by war, fever, and hardship to one-third of its number, he had returned to the chateau, "but they cannot have had their senses about them, when they permitted themselves to be cozened into laying down their arms, without receiving a single guarantee that the terms of the treaty should be observed.
"Far better never to have taken up arms at all. The king has come to regard us as enemies. The Catholics hate us more than ever, for our successful resistance. Instead of being in a better position than we were before, we shall be in a worse. We have given up all the towns we had captured, thrown away every advantage we had gained and, when we are again driven to take up arms, we shall be in a worse position than before; for they no longer despise us, and will in future be on their guard. There will be no repeating the surprise of last September.
"I am disappointed above all in the Admiral, D'Andelot, La Rochefoucauld, and Genlis. Conde I have never trusted as one to be relied upon, in an extremity. He is a royal prince, has been brought up in courts, and loves gaiety and ease; and although I say not that he is untrue to the Huguenot cause, yet he would gladly accommodate matters; and as we see, even in this treaty, the great bulk of the Huguenots all over the country have been utterly deserted, their liberty of worship denied, and their very lives are at the mercy of the bigots.
"What do you think, Philip? Have you had enough of fighting for a party who wilfully throw away all that they have won by their sacrifices? Are you thinking of returning home, or will you wait for a while, to see how matters go on?"
"I will, with your permission, wait," Philip said. "I lament this peace, which seems to me to leave us in a worse position than before the war; but I agree with you that it cannot last, and that ere long the Huguenots will be driven again to take up arms. Francois and I have become as brothers and, until the cause is either lost or won, I would fain remain."
"That is well, Philip. I will be glad to have you with us, my nephew. La Noue wrote to me, a month since, saying that both my son and you had borne yourselves very gallantly; that he was well pleased to have had you with him; and that he thought that, if these wars of religion continued–which they might well do for a long time, as in Germany and Holland, as well as in France, the reformed religion is battling for freedom–you would both rise to eminence as soldiers.
"However, now that peace is made, we must make the best of it. I should think it will not be broken until after the harvest and vintage; for until then all will be employed, and the Catholics as well as the Huguenots must repair their losses, and gather funds, before they can again take the field with their retainers. Therefore, until then I think that there will be peace."
The summer passed quietly at Laville. The tales of massacre and outrage, that came from all parts of France, filled them with horror and indignation; but in their own neighbourhood, all was quiet. Rochelle had refused to open her gates to the royal troops and, as in all that district the Huguenots were too numerous to be interfered with by their neighbours, the quiet was unbroken.
Nevertheless, it was certain that hostilities would not be long delayed. The Catholics, seeing the advantage that the perfect organization of the Huguenots had given them at the commencement of the war, had established leagues in almost every province. These were organized by the clergy, and the party that looked upon the Guises as their leaders and, by the terms of their constitution, were evidently determined to carry out the extirpation of the reformed religion, with or without the royal authority; and were, indeed, bent upon forming a third party in the state, looking to Philip of Spain rather than to the King of France as their leader.
So frequent and daring were the outrages, in Paris, that Conde soon found that his life was not safe there; and retired to Noyers, a small town in Burgundy. Admiral Coligny, who had been saddened by the loss of his brave wife, who had died from a disease contracted in attending upon the sick and wounded soldiers at Orleans, had abandoned the chateau at Chatillon-sur-Loing, where he had kept up a princely hospitality; and retired to the castle of Tanlay, belonging to his brother D'Andelot, situated within a few miles of Noyers. D'Andelot himself had gone to Brittany, after writing a remonstrance to Catharine de Medici upon the ruin and desolation that the breaches of the treaty, and the persecution of a section of the population, were bringing upon France.
The Chancellor L'Hopital had, in vain, urged toleration. His adversaries in the royal council were too strong for him. The Cardinal of Lorraine had regained his old influence. The king appointed, as his preachers, four of the most violent advocates of persecution. The De Montmorencys, for a time, struggled successfully against the influence of the Cardinal of Lorraine; who sought supreme power, under cover of Henry of Anjou's name. Three of the marshals of France–Montmorency, his brother Danville, and Vielleville–supported by Cardinal Bourbon, demanded of the council that D'Anjou should no longer hold the office of lieutenant general. Catharine at times aided the Guises, at times the Montmorencys; playing off one party against the other, but chiefly inclining to the Guises, who gradually obtained such an ascendency that the Chancellor L'Hopital, in despair, retired from the council; and thus removed the greatest obstacle to the schemes and ambition of the Cardinal of Lorraine.
At the commencement of August the king despatched, to all parts of his dominions, copies of an oath that was to be demanded from every Huguenot. It called upon them to swear never to take up arms, save by the express command of the king; nor to assist with counsel, money, or food any who did so; and to join their fellow citizens in the defence of their towns against those who disobeyed this mandate. The Huguenots unanimously declined to sign the oath.
With the removal of the chancellor from the council, the party of Lorraine became triumphant; and it was determined to seize the whole of the Huguenot leaders, who were quietly residing upon their estates in distant parts of France. Gaspard de Tavannes was charged with the arrest of Conde and the Admiral; and fourteen companies of men-at-arms, and as many of infantry were placed under his orders, and these were quietly and secretly marched to Noyers.
Fortunately Conde received warning, just before the blow was going to be struck. He was joined at Noyers by the Admiral, with his daughter and sons, and the wife and infant son of D'Andelot. Conde himself had with him his wife and children. They were joined by a few Huguenot noblemen from the neighbourhood; and these, with the servants of the prince and Admiral, formed an escort of about a hundred and fifty horse.
Escape seemed well-nigh hopeless. Tavannes' troops guarded most of the avenues of escape. There was no place of refuge save La Rochelle, several hundred miles away, on the other side of France. Every city was in the hands of their foes, and their movements were encumbered with the presence of women and young children.
There was but one thing in their favour–their enemies naturally supposed that, should they attempt to escape, they would do so in the direction of Germany, where they would be warmly welcomed by the Protestant princes. Therefore it was upon that line that the greatest vigilance would be displayed by their enemies.
Before starting, Coligny sent off a very long and eloquent protest to the king; defending himself for the step that he was about to take; giving a history of the continuous breaches of the treaty, and of the sufferings that had been inflicted upon the Huguenots; and denouncing the Cardinal of Lorraine and his associates, as the guilty causes of all the misfortunes that had fallen upon France.
It was on the 23d of August that the party set out from Noyers. Their march was prompt and rapid. Contrary to expectation, they discovered an unguarded ford across the Loire, near the town of Laussonne. This ford was only passable when the river was unusually low, and had therefore escaped the vigilance of their foes. The weather had been for some time dry, and they were enabled, with much difficulty, to effect a crossing; a circumstance which was regarded by the Huguenots as a special act of Providence, the more so as heavy rain fell the moment they had crossed, and the river rose so rapidly that when, a few hours later, the cavalry of Tavannes arrived in pursuit, they were unable to effect a passage. The party had many other dangers and difficulties to encounter but, by extreme caution and rapidity of movement, they succeeded in baffling their foes, and in making their way across France.
