THE STORY OF COLIGNY

In 1522 the Marshal de Chatillon died, and his four little boys were left for their mother to bring up in the fashion thought proper for the children of a French nobleman.

Not so very many years earlier, boys in their position in life would have been taught to use arms, to be brave and fearless and courteous, and not so very much besides. If a letter was to be written, a clerk would write it. If a document was to be signed, a knight would make his mark and not feel in the least ashamed of being unable to write his name. But now times had changed, and it was looked upon as a disgrace for a young man of good family to know nothing of books. Of course, then, these boys had a tutor as well as an instructor in arms; and when they were brought to court, they were well fitted to take their place among the best-trained of the young nobles.

The dauphin, who afterwards became Henry II, was of about their age. He and Gaspard Coligny de Chatillon and the young men who gathered around the court, had the merriest time possible with tournaments, dances, tennis, hunting, and all the light-hearted pranks that a group of happy young men could think of. Often people like those best who are least like themselves, and the Duke of Guise, a young noble whom Coligny especially admired, was quite his opposite. Coligny was rather inclined to be grave and thoughtful. People had to know him well before they really appreciated him. The Duke of Guise was open-hearted in manner, merry, generous, and winning; and everybody, from King Francis to the boys in the streets, was devoted to him. King Francis, however, although he admired him, did not really trust him, and when about to die, he warned his son Henry not to allow the Guise family to become too powerful.

It was almost a matter of course that young men of good family should become soldiers. Coligny and Guise fought side by side in many a battle, and both soon won high promotion. Coligny was made captain-general of the French infantry, composed chiefly of Swiss, who could always be hired to fight for any one, anywhere. They were wild and lawless. They murdered and pillaged wherever they went. No one had ever tried to make them show any decency or honor. Imagine their wrathful surprise when Coligny ordered them to stop quarreling and swearing and pillaging and behave like respectable men. His penalties were not agreeable. If a man insulted a woman, he was to be hanged. If he made no effort to give up swearing, he was invited to spend eight days in prison on bread and water for his first offense. For his third offense, he lost one hand. Of course Coligny was called severe, but by the punishment of a few he saved thousands of lives and transformed a mob of robbers and murderers into well-behaved troops. Another reform of his, which probably the soldiers appreciated quite as much as being made to behave themselves, was the formation of an ambulance corps to carry the wounded to a military hospital, the first time that such a thing had ever been done.

Both Guise and Coligny were ambitious, of course, like any other young men of spirit, and both attained to high positions, for Guise became lieutenant general, and Coligny admiral.

In 1552, the king made war upon Charles V of Spain. Early in this war, Guise held Metz against all the attacks of the Spanish. He also took Calais, which had been in the hands of the English for more than two hundred years. Moreover, to add to all this glory, his niece married Francis, eldest son of King Henry. Coligny had been equally brave and skillful in the war, but less fortunate. He had held Saint-Quentin till its walls fell, and by this had saved Paris; but he had been obliged to surrender at last and had been taken prisoner.

While in prison, Coligny had time to think of religious subjects, as thousands of other people were doing. The Bible had been translated. People were reading it and were talking of matters of religion, and instead of accepting whatever the Church taught, they were discussing and questioning and making up their minds for themselves, and many were becoming Protestants, or Huguenots, as they were called in France. To leave the Roman Catholic Church and become a Huguenot was looked upon by all Catholics not only as accepting a wrong and dangerous belief, but also as taking a long step toward disloyalty to the king, which deserved heavy penalties. On the other hand, there were disagreements even among the Protestants, and they sometimes persecuted one another. Then, too, political interests entered into the matter. King Francis believed that to permit his subjects to become Protestants would weaken his authority; therefore he persecuted the French Huguenots. But to weaken the authority of Charles V in Germany was just what he wanted; therefore he aided the German Protestants. Coligny had long been inclined to favor the Huguenots, and when he was released from prison, he came out openly as one of them and soon became their principal leader.

King Henry’s death left the crown to his sickly young son, Francis II, who had married Mary, Queen of Scots, niece of Guise. The Duke of Guise was then a successful general, uncle of the queen, a man of great ability and winning manners. Few boys of sixteen would have stood out against his advice, and King Francis was not one of those few. The Duke of Guise and his family were practically the rulers of the country.

But in less than two years Francis died, and Mary, Queen of Scots, was obliged to leave her beloved France and return to Scotland. Charles, the ten-year-old brother of Francis, now became sovereign. The land was in such disorder that civil war was probable. In the midst of the confusion, Coligny planned a settlement in America where the Huguenots might be free to think and to worship as they believed right. One attempt was made at the entrance of Port Royal, South Carolina, another on the Saint John’s River in Florida. The first failed for lack of food; the second was destroyed by the Spaniards and most of the colonists slain--“Not as French, but as heretics,” the Spaniards declared.

Catherine de’ Medici, mother of the boy king, was regent. She was a woman quite without principles of honor and uprightness, and with a single aim, namely, to increase her own power. To weaken the power of Guise she allowed many privileges to the Huguenots. Then, when the Huguenots showed signs of becoming too strong to suit her wishes, she made a secret treaty with Charles V to destroy them and plotted with the Guise party to murder the Huguenot leaders. An attempt was made to kill Coligny; but King Charles was fond of Coligny and went at once to tell him how sorry he was. This alarmed Catherine. Evidently, if she was to retain her power, she must get rid of the Huguenots; so she and her followers planned a general massacre of them. She wrote a decree authorizing such a massacre and carried it to Charles to sign. He was now twenty-two years old, but he was almost as much under his mother’s influence as when he was a boy. At first he refused. “But do you not realize,” demanded Catherine, “that the Huguenots will all accuse you of encouraging the attack upon Coligny? They will rise up against you. Better to get rid of them now than to risk a battle later.” Over and over Charles refused to sign the decree. Even after his mother succeeded in making him believe that the Huguenots were plotting against his life, he refused. Day after day she kept up her arguing and pleading. Then she began to weep and declared that she should leave the court. Charles had held out remarkably well for so weak a nature, but now he suddenly yielded. “Kill them all, then!” he cried. “Kill every Huguenot in France, so that none may be left to reproach me.”

At two o’clock on the morning of Saint Bartholomew’s Day, the ringing of a church bell was heard in Paris. Others followed, until there was a wild jangling from every belfry. This was the signal, and in a moment the streets were filled with armed men bearing on hat or sleeve a white cross, the badge of the Guise family. Every Huguenot, man, woman, or little child, that could be found was murdered.

Coligny was one of the first to die, for his old boyhood friend, the Duke of Guise, went at once to the house of his rival and sent assassins up the stairs to his bedroom. “Are you Coligny?” they questioned. “Yes, I am,” Coligny replied calmly. “I am a wounded and aged man, and you ought to respect my gray hairs. But you will not shorten my life much,” he added.

Catherine had also sent to the various provinces commands in the king’s name to carry on similar massacres. Some of the governors obeyed; others refused. One wrote: “I respect Your Majesty too much not to believe that this letter is a forgery; and if, which God forbid, the order be genuine, I respect Your Majesty too much to obey you.” Nevertheless, so many obeyed that it is believed twenty thousand Huguenots perished in France.

All Europe was horrified, all save Philip II of Spain, successor of Charles V. He sent a message to Charles that if soldiers were needed to complete the overthrow of the Huguenots, he should be glad to supply them. Catherine never expressed the least regret for the horrors of Saint Bartholomew’s Day. Charles died after two years of keen remorse and physical suffering. And yet he had so little stability of mind that he appointed Catherine regent until his younger brother should be able to reign.