V. THE NIGHT OF MASSACRE--The Story Of The Saint Bartholomew
There are elements of mystery about the massacre of Saint Bartholomewover which, presumably, historians will continue to dispute as long ashistories are written. Indeed, it is largely of their disputes that themystery is begotten. Broadly speaking, these historians may be dividedinto two schools--Catholic and anti-Catholic. The former have made ittheir business to show that the massacre was purely a political affair,having no concern with religion; the latter have been equally at painsto prove it purely an act of religious persecution having no concernwith politics. Those who adopt the latter point of view insist thatthe affair was long premeditated, that it had its source in somethingconcerted some seven years earlier between Catherine of Medicis andthe sinister Duke of Alva. And they would seem to suggest that Henry ofNavarre, the nominal head of the Protestant party, was brought to Paristo wed Marguerite de Valois merely so that by this means the Protestantnobles of the kingdom, coming to the capital for the wedding, should belured to their destruction.
It does not lie within the purview of the present narrative to enterinto a consideration of the arguments of the two schools, nor will it beattempted.
But it may briefly be stated that the truth lies probably in a middlecourse of reasoning--that the massacre was political in conception andreligious in execution; or, in other words, that statecraft deliberatelymade use of fanaticism as of a tool; that the massacre was brought aboutby a sudden determination begotten of opportunity which is but anotherword for Chance.
Against the theory of premeditation the following cardinal facts may beurged:
(a) The impossibility of guarding for seven years a secret that severalmust have shared;
(b) The fact that neither Charles IX nor his mother Catherine were inany sense bigoted Catholics, or even of a normal religious sincerity.
(c) The lack of concerted action--so far as the kingdom generally wasconcerned--in the execution of the massacre.
A subsidiary disproof lies in the attempted assassination of Coligny twodays before the massacre, an act which might, by putting the Huguenotson their guard, have caused the miscarriage of the entire plan--had itexisted.
It must be borne in mind that for years France had been divided byreligious differences into two camps, and that civil war betweenCatholic and Huguenot had ravaged and distracted the country. Atthe head of the Protestant party stood that fine soldier Gaspard deChatillon, Admiral de Coligny, virtually the Protestant King ofFrance, a man who raised armies, maintaining them by taxes levied uponProtestant subjects, and treated with Charles IX as prince with prince.At the head of the Catholic party--the other imperium in imperio--stoodthe Duke of Guise. The third and weakest party in the State, serving, asit seemed, little purpose beyond that of holding the scales between theother turbulent two, was the party of the King.
The motives and events that precipitated the massacre are set forth inthe narration of the King's brother, the Duke of Anjou (afterwardsHenri III). It was made by him to Miron, his physician and confidentialservant in Cracow, when he ruled there later as King of Poland, undercircumstances which place it beyond suspicion of being intended to serveulterior aims. For partial corroboration, and for other details of themassacre itself, we have the narratives, among others, of Sully, who wasthen a young man in the train of the King of Navarre, and of Lusignan,a gentleman of the Admiral's household. We shall closely follow these inour reconstruction of the event and its immediate causes.
The gay chatter of the gallants and ladies thronging the long galleryof the Louvre sank and murmured into silence, and a movement was made toyield a free passage to the King, who had suddenly made his appearanceleaning affectionately upon the shoulder of the Admiral de Coligny.
The Duke of Anjou, a slender, graceful young man in a gold-embroideredsuit of violet, forgot the interest he was taking in his beautifulhands to bend lower over the handsome Madame de Nemours what time theunfriendly eyes of both were turned upon the Admiral.
The King and the great Huguenot leader came slowly down the gallery,an oddly contrasting pair. Coligny would have been the taller by ahalf-head but for his stoop, yet in spite of it there was energy andmilitary vigour in his carriage, just as there was a severe dignityamounting to haughtiness in his scarred and wrinkled countenance. Abullet that had pierced his cheek and broken three of his teeth at thebattle of Moncontour had left a livid scar that lost itself in his longwhite beard. His forehead was high and bald, and his eyes were ofa steely keenness under their tufted brows. He was dressed withCalvinistic simplicity entirely in black, and just as this contrastedwith the King's suit of sulphur-coloured satin, so did the gravity ofhis countenance contrast with the stupidity of his sovereign's.
Charles IX, a slimly built young man in his twenty-fourth year, was ofa pallid, muddy complexion, with great, shifty, greenish eyes, and athick, pendulous nose. The protruding upper lip of his long, thin mouthgave him an oafish expression, which was increased by his habit ofcarrying his head craned forward.
His nature was precisely what you would have expected from hisappearance--dull and gross. He was chiefly distinguished among men ofbirth for general obscenity of speech and morphological inventiveness inblasphemy.
At the end of the gallery Coligny stooped to kiss the royal hand inleave-taking. With his other hand Charles patted the Admiral's shoulder.
"Count me your friend," he said, "body and soul, heart and bowels, evenas I count you mine. Fare you well, my father."
Coligny departed, and the King retraced his steps, walking quickly, hishead hunched between his shoulders, his baleful eyes looking neither toleft nor right. As he passed out, the Duke of Anjou quitted the sideof Madame de Nemours, and went after him. Then at last the suspendedchatter of the courtiers broke loose again.
The King was pacing his cabinet--a simple room furnished with a medleyof objects appertaining to study, to devotion, and to hunting. A largepicture of the Virgin hung from a wall flanked on either side by anarquebus, and carrying a hunting-horn on one of its upper corners. Alittle alabaster holy-water font near the door, crowned by a sprig ofpalm, seemed to serve as a receptacle for hawk-bells and straps. Therewas a writing-table of beautifully carved walnut near the leaded window,littered with books and papers--a treatise on hunting lay cheek by jowlwith a Book of Hours; a string of rosary beads and a dog-whip layacross an open copy of Ronsard's verses. The King was quite the vilestpoetaster of his day.
Charles looked over his shoulder as his brother entered. The scowl onhis face deepened when he saw who came, and with a grunt he viciouslykicked the liver-coloured hound that lay stretched at his feet. Thehound fled yelping to a corner, the Duke checked, startled, in hisadvance.
"Well?" growled the King. "Well? Am I never to have peace? Am I never tobe alone? What now? Bowels of God! What do you want?"
His green eyes smouldered, his right hand opened and closed on the goldhilt of the dagger at his girdle:
Scared by the maniac ferocity of this reception, the young Dukeprecipitately withdrew.
"It is nothing. Another time, since I disturb you now." He bowed andvanished, followed by an evil, cackling laugh.
Anjou knew how little his brother loved him, and he confesses how muchhe feared him in that moment. But under his fear it is obvious thatthere was lively resentment. He went straight in quest of his mother,whose darling he was, to bear her the tale of the King's mood, and whathe accounted, no doubt rightly, the cause of it.
"It is the work of that pestilential Huguenot admiral," he announced, atthe end of a long tirade, "It is always thus with him after he has seenColigny."
Catherine of Medicis considered. She was a fat, comfortable woman, witha thick nose, pinched lips, and sleepy eyes.
"Charles," she said at length, in her monotonous, emotionless voice, "isa weathercock that turns with every wind that blows upon him. You shouldknow him by now." And she yawned, so that one who did not know her andher habit of perpetually yawning might have suppos
ed that she was butindifferently interested.
They were alone together in the intimate little tapestried room shecalled her oratory. She half sat, half reclined upon a couch of rosebrocade. Anjou stood over by the window, his back to it, so that hispale face was in shadow. He considered his beautiful hands, which he wasreluctant to lower, lest the blood should flow into them and mar theirwhite perfection.
"The Admiral's influence over him is increasing," he complained, "and heuses it to lessen our own."
"Do I not know it?" came her dull voice.
"It is time to end it," said Anjou passionately, "before he ends us.Your influence grows weaker every day and the Admiral's stronger.Charles begins to take sides with him against us. We shall have him atool of the Huguenot party before all is done. Ah, mon Dieu! You shouldhave seen him leaning upon the shoulder of that old parpaillot, callinghim 'my father,' and protesting himself his devoted friend 'bodyand soul, heart and bowels,' in his own words. And when I seek himafterwards, he scowls and snarls at me, and fingers his dagger as if hewould have it in my throat. It is plain to see upon what subject the oldscoundrel entertained him." And again he repeated, more fiercely thanbefore: "It is time to end it!"
"I know," she said, ever emotionless before so much emotion. "And itshall be ended. The old assassin should have been hanged years ago forguiding the hand that shot Francois de Guise. Daily he becomes a greaterdanger, to Charles, to ourselves, and to France. He is embroiling uswith Spain through this Huguenot army he is raising to go and fight thebattles of Calvinism in Flanders. A fine thing that. Ah, per Dio!" For amoment her voice was a little warmed and quickened. "Catholic France atwar with Catholic Spain for the sake of Huguenot Flanders!" She laughedshortly. Then her voice reverted to its habitual sleepy level. "Youare right. It is time to end it. Coligny is the head of this rebelliousbeast. If we cut off the head, perhaps the beast will perish. We willconsult the Duke of Guise." She yawned again. "Yes, the Duke of Guisewill be ready to lend us his counsel and his aid. Decidedly we must getrid of the Admiral."
That was on Monday, August 18th of that year 1572, and such was the firmpurpose and energy of that fat and seemingly sluggish woman, that withintwo days all necessary measures were taken, and Maurevert, theassassin, was at his post in the house of Vilaine, in the Cloistersof Saint-Germain l'Auxerrois, procured for the purpose by Madame deNemours, who bore the Admiral a mortal hatred.
It was not, however, until the following Friday that Maurevert was giventhe opportunity of carrying out the task to which he had been hired. Onthat morning, as the Admiral was passing, accompanied by a few gentlemenof his household, returning from the Louvre to his house in the RueBetisy, the assassin did his work. There was a sudden arquebusade froma first-floor window, and a bullet smashed two fingers of the Admiral'sright hand, and lodged itself in the muscles of his left arm.
With his maimed and bleeding hand he pointed to the window whence theshot had been fired, bidding his gentlemen to force a way into the houseand take the assassin. But whilst they were breaking in at the front,Maurevert was making his escape by the back, where a horse waited forhim, and, though pursued, he was never overtaken.
News of the event was instantly borne to the King. It found him attennis with the Duke of Guise and the Admiral's son-in-law, Teligny.
"In this assassin's work, Sire," said the blunt gentleman whom Colignyhad sent, "the Admiral desires you to see the proof of the worth of theagreement between himself and Monsieur de Guise that followed upon thetreaty of peace of Saint-Germain."
The Duke of Guise drew himself stiffly up, but said no word. The King,livid with rage, looked at him balefully a moment, then to vent some ofhis fury he smashed his racket against the wall.
"God's Blood!" he cried, mouthing horribly. "Am I then never to haverest?" He flung away the broken remnants of his racket, and went outcursing. Questioning the messenger further, he learnt that the shot hadbeen fired from the house of Vilaine, a sometime tutor to the Duke ofGuise, and that the horse upon which the assassin had fled had been heldfor him by a groom in the Guise livery.
Meanwhile the Duke and Monsieur de Teligny had gone their ways withno word spoken between them--Guise to shut himself up in his hotel andassemble his friends, Teligny to repair at once to his father-in-law.
At two o'clock in the afternoon, in response to an urgent requestfrom the Admiral, the King went to visit him, accompanied by theQueen-Mother, by his brothers Anjou and Alencon, and a number ofofficers and courtiers. The royal party saw nothing of the excitementwhich had been prevailing in the city ever since the morning's event,an excitement which subsided at their approach. The King was gloomy,resentful, and silent, having so far refused to discuss the matter withany one, denying audience even to his mother. Catherine and Anjou werevexed by the miscarriage of the affair, anxious and no less silent thanthe King.
They found the Admiral awaiting them, calm and composed. The famousAmbroise Pare had amputated the two broken fingers, and had dealt withthe wound in the arm. But although Coligny might be considered to haveescaped lightly, and not to be in any danger, a rumour was abroad thatthe bullet was poisoned; and neither the Admiral nor his people seem tohave rejected the possibility. One suspects, indeed, that capital wasmade out of it. It was felt, perhaps, that thus should the Admiralmaintain a greater influence with the King. For in any uncertainty asto whether Coligny would live or die, the King's feelings must be moredeeply stirred than if he knew that the wound carried no peril to life.
Followed closely by his mother and his brothers, Charles swept throughthe spacious ante-chamber, thronged now with grim-faced, resentfulHuguenot gentlemen, and so entered the room where Coligny reclined upona day bed near the window. The Admiral made shift to rise, but this theKing hurried forward to prevent.
"Rest yourself, my dear father!" he cried, in accents of deep concern."Heart of God! What is this they have done to you? Assure me, at least,that your life is safe, or, by the Mass, I'll--"
"I hold my life from God," the Admiral replied gravely, "and when Herequires it of me I will yield it up. That is nothing."
"Nothing? God's Blood! Nothing? The hurt is yours, my father, but theoutrage mine; and I swear to you, by the Blood and the Death, that Iwill take such a vengeance as shall never be forgotten!"
Thereupon he fell into such a storm of imprecation and blasphemy thatthe Admiral, a sincerely devout, God-fearing heretic, shuddered to hearhim.
"Calm, Sire!" he begged at last, laying his sound hand upon the King'svelvet sleeve. "Be calm and listen, for it is not to speak of myself, ofthese wounds, or of the wrong done me, that I have presumed to beg youto visit me. This attempt to murder me is but a sign of the evil thatis stirring in France to sap your authority and power. But--" He checkedand looked at the three who stood immediately behind the King. "What Ihave to say is, if you will deign to listen, for your private ear."
The King jerked round in a fashion peculiar to him; his every action wasabrupt and spasmodic. He eyed his mother and brothers shiftily. It wasbeyond his power to look any one directly in the face.
"Outside!" he commanded, waving an impatient hand almost in their faces."Do you hear? Leave me to talk with my father the Admiral."
The young dukes fell back at once, ever in dread of provoking thehorrible displays of passion that invariably followed upon anyresistance of his feeble will. But the sluggish Catherine was not soeasily moved.
"Is Monsieur de Coligny strong enough, do you think, to treat of affairsat present? Consider his condition, I beg," she enjoined in her levelvoice.
"I thank you for your consideration, madame," said the Admiral, theghost of an ironic smile about his lips. "But I am strong enough, thankGod! And even though my strength were less than it is, it would be moreheavily taxed by the thought that I had neglected my duty to His Majestythan it ever could be by the performance of that duty."
"Ha! You hear?" snapped the King. "Go, then; go!"
They went, returning to the ante-chamber to wait until the a
udienceshould conclude. The three stood there in the embrasure of a window thatlooked out upon the hot, sunlit courtyard. There, as Anjou himselftells us, they found themselves hemmed about by some two hundred sullen,grim-faced gentlemen and officers of the Admiral's party, who eyed themwithout dissembling their hostility, who preserved a silence that wasdisturbed only by the murmurs of their constant whisperings, and whomoved to and fro before the royal group utterly careless of the properdegree of deference and respect.
Isolated thus in that hostile throng, Catherine and her sons became moreand more uneasy, so that, as the Queen-Mother afterwards confessed, shewas never in any place where her tarrying was attended by so much fear,or her departure thence by so much pleasure.
It was this fear that spurred her at last to put an end to that secretconference in the room beyond. She did it in characteristic manner. Inthe most complete outward composure, stifling a yawn as she went,she moved deliberately across to the door, her sons following, rappedshortly on the panel, and entered without waiting to be bidden.
The King, who was standing by the Admiral's side, wheeled sharply atthe sound of the opening door. His eyes blazed with sudden anger when hebeheld his mother, but she was the first to speak.
"My son," she said, "I am concerned for the poor Admiral. He will havethe fever if you continue to permit him to weary himself with affairs atpresent. It is not to treat him as a friend to prolong this interview.Let business wait until he is recovered, which will be the sooner if heis given rest at present."
Coligny stroked his white beard in silence, while the King flared out,striding towards her:
"Par la Mort Dieu! What is this sudden concern for the Admiral?"
"Not sudden, my son," she answered in her dull voice, her eyes intentupon him, with something magnetic in their sleepy glance that seemedto rob him of half his will. "None knows more accurately than I theAdmiral's precise, value to France."
Anjou behind her may have smiled at that equivocal phrase.
"God's Bowels! Am I King, or what am I?"
"It ill becomes a king to abuse the strength of a poor wounded subject,"she returned, her eyes ever regarding him steadily. "Come, Charles.Another day, when the Admiral shall have recovered more fully, you maycontinue this discourse. Come now."
His anger was subdued to mere sullenness, almost infantile in itsoutward petulant expression. He attempted to meet her glance, and he wascompletely lost.
"Perhaps... Ah, Ventre Dieu, my mother is right! Let the matter rest,then, my father. We will talk of it again as soon as you are well."
He stepped up to the couch, and held out his hand.
Coligny took it, and his eyes looked up wistfully into the weak youngface of his King.
"I thank you, Sire, for coming and for hearing me. Another day, if I amspared, I may tell you more. Meanwhile, bear well in mind what I havesaid already. I have no interests in this world but your own, Sire." Andhe kissed the royal hand in farewell.
Not until they were back in the Louvre did the Queen attempt to breakupon the King's gloomy abstraction, to learn--as learn she must--thesubject of the Admiral's confidential communication.
Accompanied by Anjou, she sought him in his cabinet, nor would shebe denied. He sat at his writing-table, his head sunken between hisshoulders, his receding chin in his cupped palms. He glared at the pairas they entered, swore savagely, and demanded their business with him.
Catherine sat down with massive calm. Anjou remained standing beside andslightly behind her, leaning upon the back of her tall chair.
"My son," she said bluntly, "I have come to learn what passed betweenyou and Coligny."
"What passed? What concern is that of yours?"
"All your concerns are mine," she answered tranquilly. "I am yourmother."
"And I am your king!" he answered, banging the table. "And I mean to beking!"
"By the grace of God and the favour of Monsieur de Coligny," shesneered, with unruffled calm.
"What's that?" His mouth fell open, and his eyes stared. A crimson flushoverspread his muddy complexion. "What's that?"
Her dull glance met and held his own whilst calmly she repeated hersneering words.
"And that is why I have come to you," she added. "If you are unableto rule without guidance, I must at least do what I can so that theguidance shall not be that of a rebel, of one who guides you to the endthat he may master you."
"Master me!" he screamed. He rose in his indignation and faced her. Buthis glance, unable to support her steady eyes, faltered and fell away.Foul oaths poured from his royal lips. "Master me!" he repeated.
"Aye--master you," she answered him. "Master you until the littleremnant of your authority shall have been sapped; until you are no morethan a puppet in the hands of the Huguenot party, a roi faineant, a kingof straw."
"By God, madame, were you not my mother--"
"It is because I am your mother that I seek to save you."
He looked at her again, but again his glance faltered. He paced thelength of the room and back, mouthing and muttering. Then he came tostand, leaning on the prie-dieu, facing her.
"By God's Death, madame, since you demand to know what the Admiral said,you shall. You prove to me that what he told me was no more than true.He told me that a king is only recognized in France as long as he is apower for good or ill over his subjects; that this power, togetherwith the management of all State affairs, is slipping, by the craftycontrivances of yourself and Anjou there, out of my hands into your own;that this power and authority which you are both stealing from me mayone day be used against me and my kingdom. And he bade me be on my guardagainst you both and take my measures. He gave me this counsel, madame,because he deemed it his duty as one of my most loyal and faithfulservants at the point of death, and--"
"The shameless hypocrite!" her dull, contemptuous voice interrupted him."At the point of death! Two broken fingers and a flesh-wound in the armand he represents himself as in articulo mortis that he may play uponyou, and make you believe his lies."
Her stolidity of manner and her logic, ponderous and irresistible, hadtheir effect. His big, green eyes seemed to dilate, his mouth fell open.
"If--" he began, and checked, rapped out an oath, and checked again."Are they lies, madame?" he asked slowly.
She caught the straining note of hope in that question of his--a hopefounded upon vanity, the vanity to be king in fact, as well as king inname. She rose.
"To ask me that--me, your mother--is to insult me. Come, Anjou."
And on that she departed, craftily, leaving her suggestion to prey uponhis mind.
But once alone in her oratory with Anjou, her habitual torpor wassloughed away. For once she quivered and crimsoned and raised her voice,whilst for once her sleepy eyes kindled and flashed as she inveighedagainst Coligny and the Huguenots.
For the moment, however, there was no more to be done. The stroke hadfailed; Coligny had survived the attempt upon his life, and there wasdanger that on the recoil the blow might smite those who had launchedit. But on the morrow, which was Saturday, things suddenly assumed avery different complexion.
That great Catholic leader, the powerful, handsome Duke of Guise, who,more than suspected of having inspired the attempted assassination, hadkept his hotel since yesterday, now sought the Queen-Mother with newsof what was happening in the city. Armed bands of Huguenot nobles wereriding through the streets, clamouring:
"Death to the assassins of the Admiral! Down with the Guisards!"
And, although a regiment of Gardes Francaises had been hastily broughtto Paris to keep order, the Duke feared grave trouble in a citywhich the royal wedding had filled with Huguenot gentlemen and theirfollowing. Then, too, there were rumours that the Huguenots werearming everywhere--rumours which, whether true or not, were, under thecircumstances, sufficiently natural and probable to be taken seriously.
Leaving Guise in her oratory, and summoning her darling Anjou, Catherineat once sought the King. She may have believed the rumo
urs, and she mayeven have stated them as facts beyond dispute so as to strengthen andestablish her case against Gaspard de Coligny.
"King Gaspard I," she told him, "is already taking his measures. TheHuguenots are arming; officers have been dispatched into the provincesto levy troops. The Admiral has ordered the raising of ten thousandhorse in Germany, and another ten thousand Swiss mercenaries in theCantons."
He stared at her vacuously. Some such rumour had already reached him,and he conceived that here was definite confirmation of it.
"You may determine now who are your friends, who your loyal servants,"she told him. "How is so much force to be resisted in the state in whichyou find yourself? The Catholics exhausted, and weary as they are by acivil war in which their king was of little account to them, are goingto arm so as to offer what resistance they can without depending uponyou. Thus, within your State you will have two great parties under arms,neither of which can be called your own. Unless you stir yourself, andquickly, unless you choose now between friends and foes, you will findyourself alone, isolated, in grave peril, without authority or power."
He sank overwhelmed to a chair, and took his head in his hands,cogitating. When next he looked at her there was positive fear in hisgreat eyes, a fear evoked by contemplation of the picture which herwords had painted for him.
He looked from her to Anjou.
"What then?" he asked. "What then? How is the danger to be averted?"
"By a simple stroke of the sword," she answered calmly. "Slice off at ablow the head of this beast of rebellion, this hydra of heresy."
He huddled back, horror in his eyes. His hands slid slowly along thecarved arms of his chair, and clenched the ends so tightly that hisknuckles looked like knobs of marble.
"Kill the Admiral?" he said slowly.
"The Admiral and the chief Huguenot leaders," she said, much in the toneshe might have used, were it a matter of wringing the necks of a dozencapons.
"Ah, ca! Par la Mort Dieu!" He heaved himself up, raging. "Thus wouldyour hatred of him be served. Thus would you--"
Coolly she sliced into his foaming speech.
"Not I--not I!" she said. "Do nothing upon my advice. Summon yourCouncil. Send for Tavannes, Biragues, Retz, and the others. Consult withthem. They are your friends; you trust and believe in them. When theyknow the facts, see if their counsel will differ from your mother's.Send for them; they are in the Louvre now."
He looked at her a moment.
"Very well," he said; and reeled to the door, bawling hoarsely hisorders.
They came, one by one--the Marshal de Tavannes, the Duke of Retz, theDuke of Nevers, the Chancellor de Biragues, and lastly the Duke ofGuise, upon whom the King scowled a jealous hatred that was now fullyalive.
The window, which overlooked the quay and the river, stood open to admitwhat air might be stirring on that hot day of August.
Charles sat at his writing-table, sullen and moody, twining a string ofbeads about his fingers. Catherine occupied the chair over beyond thetable, Anjou sitting near her on a stool. The others stood respectfullyawaiting that the King should make known his wishes. The shifty royalglance swept over them from under lowering brows; then it rested almostin challenge upon his mother.
"Tell them," he bade her curtly.
She told them what already she had told her son, relating all now withgreater detail and circumstance. For some moments nothing was heard inthat room but the steady drone of her unemotional voice. When she hadfinished, she yawned and settled herself to hear what might be answered.
"Well," snapped the King, "you have heard. What do you advise? Speakout!"
Nevers was the first to answer.
"There is no other way," he said stiffly, "but that which Her Majestyadvises. The danger is grave. If it is to be averted, action must beprompt and effective."
Tavannes clasped his hands behind him and said much the same, as didpresently the Chancellor.
Twisting and untwisting his chaplet of beads about his long fingers,his eyes averted, the King heard each in turn. Then he looked up. Hisglance, deliberately ignoring Guise, settled upon the Duke of Retz, whoheld aloof.
"And you, Monsieur le Marechal, what is your counsel?"
Retz drew himself up, as if bracing himself to meet opposing forces. Hewas a little pale, but quite composed.
"If there is a man whom I should hate," he said, "it is this Gaspard deColigny, who has defamed me and all my family by the foul accusations hehas put abroad. But I will not," he added firmly, "take vengeance uponmy enemies at the expense of my king and master. I cannot counsel acourse so disastrous to Your Majesty and the whole kingdom. Did weact as we have been advised, Sire, can you doubt that we shouldbe taxed--and rightly taxed in view of the treaty that has beensigned--with perfidy and disloyalty?"
Dead silence followed that bombshell of opposition, coming from aquarter whence it was least expected. For Catherine and Anjou hadconfidently counted upon the Duke's hatred of Coligny to ensure hissupport of their designs.
A little colour crept into the pale cheeks of the King. His glancekindled out of its sullenness. He was as one who sees sudden hope amiddespair.
"That is the truth," he said. "Messieurs, and you, madame my mother, youhave heard the truth. How do you like it?"
"Monsieur de Retz is deceived by an excess of loyalty," said Anjouquickly. "Because he bears a personal enmity to the Admiral, heconceives that it would hurt his honour to speak otherwise. It mustsavour to him, as he has said, of using his king and master to avengehis own personal wrongs. We can respect Monsieur de Retz's view,although we hold it mistaken."
"Will Monsieur de Retz tell us what other course lies open?" quoth thebluff Tavannes.
"Some other course must be found," cried the King, rousing himself. "Itmust be found, do you hear? I will not have you touch the life of myfriend the Admiral. I will not have it--by the Blood!"
A hubbub followed, all speaking at once, until the King banged thetable, and reminded them that his cabinet was not a fish-market.
"I say that there is no other way," Catherine insisted. "There cannot betwo kings in France, nor can there be two parties. For your own safety'ssake, and for the safety of your kingdom, I beseech you so to contrivethat in France there be but one party with one head--yourself."
"Two kings in France?" he said. "What two kings?"
"Yourself and Gaspard I--King Coligny, the King of the Huguenots."
"He is my subject--my faithful, loyal subject," the King protested, butwith less assurance.
"A subject who raises forces of his own, levies taxes of his own,garrisons Huguenot cities," said Biragues. "That is a very dangeroustype of subject, Sire."
"A subject who forces you into war with Protestant Flanders againstCatholic Spain," added the blunt Tavannes.
"Forces me?" roared the King, half rising, his eyes aflash. "That is avery daring word."
"It would be if the proof were absent. Remember, Sire, his very speechto you before you permitted him to embark upon preparations for thiswar. 'Give us leave,' he said, 'to make war in Flanders, or we shall becompelled to make war upon yourself.'"
The King winced and turned livid. Sweat stood in beads upon his brow. Hewas touched in his most sensitive spot. That speech of Coligny's was ofall things the one he most desired to forget. He twisted the chaplet sothat the beads bit deeply into his fingers.
"Sire," Tavannes continued, "were I a king, and did a subject so addressme, I should have his head within the hour. Yet worse has happenedsince, worse is happening now. The Huguenots are arming. They ridearrogantly through the streets of your capital, stirring up rebellion.They are here in force, and the danger grows acute and imminent."
Charles writhed before them. He mopped his brow with a shaking hand.
"The danger--yes. I see that. I admit the danger. But Coligny--"
"Is it to be King Gaspard or King Charles?" rasped the voice ofCatherine.
The chaplet snapped suddenly in the King's fingers. He
sprang to hisfeet, deathly pale.
"So be it!" he cried. "Since it is necessary to kill the Admiral, killhim, then. Kill him!" he screamed, in a fury that seemed aimed at thosewho forced this course upon him. "Kill him--but see to it also that atthe same time you kill every Huguenot in France, so that not one shallbe left to reproach me. Not one, do you hear? Take your measures and letthe thing be done at once." And on that, his face livid and twitching,his limbs shaking, he flung out of the room and left them.
It was all the warrant they required, and they set to work at oncethere in the King's own cabinet, where he had left them. Guise, whohad hitherto been no more than a silent spectator, assumed now the mostactive part. Upon his own shoulders he took the charge of seeing theAdmiral done to death.
The remainder of the day and a portion of the evening were spent inconcerting ways and means. They assured themselves of the Provost ofthe merchants of Paris, of the officers of the Gardes Francaises andthe three thousand Swiss, of the Captains of the quarters and othernotoriously factious persons who could be trusted as leaders. By teno'clock at night all preparations were made and it was agreed that theringing of the bell of Saint-Germain l'Auxerrois for matins was to bethe signal for the massacre.
A gentleman of the Admiral's household taking his way homeward thatnight passed several men bearing sheaves of pikes upon their shoulders,and never suspected whom these weapons were to arm. He met several smallcompanies of soldiers marching quietly, their weapons shouldered, theirmatches glowing, and still he suspected nothing, whilst in one quarterhe stopped to watch a man whose behaviour seemed curious, and discoveredthat he was chalking a white cross upon the doors of certain houses.
Meeting soon afterwards another man with a bundle of weapons on hisshoulder, the intrigued Huguenot gentleman asked him bluntly what hecarried and whither he went.
"It is for the divertissement at the Louvre tonight," he was answered.
But in the Louvre the Queen-Mother and the Catholic leaders, the laboursof preparation ended, were snatching a brief rest. Between two and threeo'clock in the morning Catherine and Anjou repaired again to the King'scabinet. They found him waiting there, his face haggard and his eyesfevered.
He had spent a part of the evening at billiards, and among the playershad been La Rochefoucauld, of whom he was fond, and who had left himwith a jest at eleven o'clock, little dreaming that it was for the lasttime.
The three of them crossed to the window overlooking the river. Theyopened it, and peered out fearfully. Even Catherine trembled now thatthe hour approached. The air was fresh and cool, swept clean by thestirring breeze of the dawn, whose first ghostly gleams were already inthe sky. Suddenly, somewhere near at hand, a pistol cracked. The noiseaffected them oddly. The King fell into an ague and his teeth chatteredaudibly. Panic seized him.
"By the Blood, it shall not be! It shall not be!" he cried suddenly.
He looked at his mother and his brother and they looked at him; ghastlywere the faces of all three, their eyes wide and staring with horror.
Charles swore in his terror that he would cancel all commands. Andsince Catherine and Anjou made no attempt to hinder him, he summoned anofficer and bade him seek out the Duke of Guise at once and command himto stay his hand.
The messenger eventually found the Duke in the courtyard of theAdmiral's house, standing over the Admiral's dead body, which hisassassins had flung down from the bedroom window. Guise laughed, andstirred the head of the corpse with his foot, answering that themessage came too late. Even as he spoke the great bell of Saint-Germainl'Auxerrois began to ring for matins.
The royal party huddled at that window of the Louvre heard it at thesame moment, and heard, as if in immediate answer, shots of arquebusand pistol, cries and screams near at hand, and then, gradually swellingfrom a murmur, the baying of the fierce multitude. Other bells gavetongue, until from every steeple in Paris the alarm rang out. The redglow from thousands of torches flushed the heavens with a rosy tint asof dawn, the air grew heavy with the smell of pitch and resin.
The King, clutching the sill of the window, poured out a stream ofblasphemy from between his chattering teeth. Then the hubbub rosesuddenly near at hand. The neighbourhood of the Louvre was populouswith Huguenots, and into it now poured the excited Catholic citizensand soldiers. Soon the quay beneath the palace windows presented thefiercest spectacle of any quarter, of Paris.
Half-clad men, women, and children fled screaming before the assassins,until they were checked by the chains that everywhere had been placedacross the streets. Some sought the river, hoping to find a way ofescape. But with Satanic foresight, the boats usually moored there hadbeen conveyed to the other side. Thus some hundreds of Huguenots werebrought to bay, and done to death under the very eyes of the King whohad unleashed this horror. Doors were crashed open, flames rose toheaven, men and women were shot down under the palace wall, bodies wereflung from windows, and on every side--in the words of D'Aubigne--theblood now flowed, seeking the river.
The King watched a while, screams and curses pouring from his lips tobe lost in the horrible uproar. He turned, perhaps to upbraid his motherand his brother, but found that they were no longer at his side.Behind him in the room a page was crouching, watching him with a white,horrified face.
Suddenly the King laughed--it was the fierce, hysterical laugh of amadman. His eyes fell on the arquebuses flanking the picture of theMother of Mercy. He took one of them down, then caught the boy by thecollar of his doublet and dragged him forward to the window.
"Hither, and load for me!" he bade him, between peals of his terriblelaughter. Then he levelled the weapon across the sill of the window."Parpaillots! Parpaillots!" he screamed. "Kill! Kill!" and he dischargedthe arquebus into a fleeing group of Huguenots.
Five days later, the King--who by now had thrown the blame of the wholeaffair, with its slaughter of some two thousand Huguenots, upon theGuises and their hatred of Coligny--rode out to Montfaucon to behold thedecapitated body of the Admiral, which hung from the gallows in chains.A courtier of a poor but obtrusive wit leaned towards him.
"The Admiral becomes noisome, I think," he said.
The King's green eyes considered him, his lips curling grimly.
"The body of a dead enemy always smells sweet," he said.