III. SIR ERSKINE MAY'S DEMOCRACY IN EUROPE[5]…

III. SIR ERSKINE MAY'S DEMOCRACY IN EUROPE[5]

Scarcely thirty years separate the Europe of Guizot and Metternich from these days of universal suffrage both in France and in United Germany; when a condemned insurgent of 1848 is the constitutional Minister of Austria; when Italy, from the Alps to the Adriatic, is governed by friends of Mazzini; and statesmen who recoiled from the temerities of Peel have doubled the electoral constituency of England. If the philosopher who proclaimed the law that democratic progress is constant and irrepressible had lived to see old age, he would have been startled by the fulfilment of his prophecy. Throughout these years of revolutionary change Sir Thomas Erskine May has been more closely and constantly connected with the centre of public affairs than any other Englishman, and his place, during most of the time, has been at the table of the House of Commons, where he has sat, like Canute, and watched the rising tide. Few could be better prepared to be the historian of European Democracy than one who, having so long studied the mechanism of popular government in the most illustrious of assemblies at the height of its power, has written its history, and taught its methods to the world.

It is not strange that so delicate and laborious a task should have remained unattempted. Democracy is a gigantic current that has been fed by many springs. Physical and spiritual causes have contributed to swell it. Much has been done by economic theories, and more by economic laws. The propelling force lay sometimes in doctrine and sometimes in fact, and error has been as powerful as truth. Popular progress has been determined at one time by legislation, at others by a book, an invention, or a crime; and we may trace it to the influence of Greek metaphysicians and Roman jurists, of barbarian custom and ecclesiastical law, of the reformers who discarded the canonists, the sectaries who discarded the reformers, and the philosophers who discarded the sects. The scene has changed, as nation succeeded nation, and during the most stagnant epoch of European life the new world stored up the forces that have transformed the old.

A history that should pursue all the subtle threads from end to end might be eminently valuable, but not as a tribute to peace and conciliation. Few discoveries are more irritating than those which expose the pedigree of ideas. Sharp definitions and unsparing analysis would displace the veil beneath which society dissembles its divisions, would make political disputes too violent for compromise and political alliances too precarious for use, and would embitter politics with all the passion of social and religious strife. Sir Erskine May writes for all who take their stand within the broad lines of our constitution. His judgment is averse from extremes. He turns from the discussion of theories, and examines his subject by the daylight of institutions, believing that laws depend much on the condition of society, and little on notions and disputations unsupported by reality. He avows his disbelief even in the influence of Locke, and cares little to inquire how much self-government owes to Independency, or equality to the Quakers; and how democracy was affected by the doctrine that society is founded on contract, that happiness is the end of all government, or labour the only source of wealth; and for this reason, because he always touches ground, and brings to bear, on a vast array of sifted fact, the light of sound sense and tried experience rather than dogmatic precept, all men will read his book with profit, and almost all without offence.

Although he does not insist on inculcating a moral, he has stated in his introductory pages the ideas that guide him; and, indeed, the reader who fails to recognise the lesson of the book in every chapter will read in vain. Sir Erskine May is persuaded that it is the tendency of modern progress to elevate the masses of the people, to increase their part in the work and the fruit of civilisation, in comfort and education, in self-respect and independence, in political knowledge and power. Taken for a universal law of history, this would be as visionary as certain generalisations of Montesquieu and Tocqueville; but with the necessary restrictions of time and place, it cannot fairly be disputed. Another conclusion, supported by a far wider induction, is that democracy, like monarchy, is salutary within limits and fatal in excess; that it is the truest friend of freedom or its most unrelenting foe, according as it is mixed or pure; and this ancient and elementary truth of constitutional government is enforced with every variety of impressive and suggestive illustration from the time of the Patriarchs down to the revolution which, in 1874, converted federal Switzerland into an unqualified democracy governed by the direct voice of the entire people.

The effective distinction between liberty and democracy, which has occupied much of the author's thoughts, cannot be too strongly drawn. Slavery has been so often associated with democracy, that a very able writer pronounced it long ago essential to a democratic state; and the philosophers of the Southern Confederation have urged the theory with extreme fervour. For slavery operates like a restricted franchise, attaches power to property, and hinders Socialism, the infirmity that attends mature democracies. The most intelligent of Greek tyrants, Periander, discouraged the employment of slaves; and Pericles designates the freedom from manual labour as the distinguishing prerogative of Athens. At Rome a tax on manumissions immediately followed the establishment of political equality by Licinius. An impeachment of England for having imposed slavery on America was carefully expunged from the Declaration of Independence; and the French Assembly, having proclaimed the Rights of Man, declared that they did not extend to the colonies. The abolition controversy has made everybody familiar with Burke's saying, that men learn the price of freedom by being masters of slaves.

From the best days of Athens, the days of Anaxagoras, Protagoras, and Socrates, a strange affinity has subsisted between democracy and religious persecution. The bloodiest deed committed between the wars of religion and the revolution was due to the fanaticism of men living under the primitive republic in the Rhætian Alps; and of six democratic cantons only one tolerated Protestants, and that after a struggle which lasted the better part of two centuries. In 1578 the fifteen Catholic provinces would have joined the revolted Netherlands but for the furious bigotry of Ghent; and the democracy of Friesland was the most intolerant of the States. The aristocratic colonies in America defended toleration against their democratic neighbours, and its triumph in Rhode Island and Pennsylvania was the work not of policy but of religion. The French Republic came to ruin because it found the lesson of religious liberty too hard to learn. Down to the eighteenth century, indeed, it was understood in monarchies more often than in free commonwealths. Richelieu acknowledged the principle whilst he was constructing the despotism of the Bourbons; so did the electors of Brandenburg, at the time when they made themselves absolute; and after the fall of Clarendon, the notion of Indulgence was inseparable from the design of Charles II. to subvert the constitution.

A government strong enough to act in defiance of public feeling may disregard the plausible heresy that prevention is better than punishment, for it is able to punish. But a government entirely dependent on opinion looks for some security what that opinion shall be, strives for the control of the forces that shape it, and is fearful of suffering the people to be educated in sentiments hostile to its institutions. When General Grant attempted to grapple with polygamy in Utah, it was found necessary to pack the juries with Gentiles; and the Supreme Court decided that the proceedings were illegal, and that the prisoners must be set free. Even the murderer Lee was absolved, in 1875, by a jury of Mormons.

Modern democracy presents many problems too various and obscure to be solved without a larger range of materials than Tocqueville obtained from his American authorities or his own observation. To understand why the hopes and the fears that it excites have been always inseparable, to determine under what conditions it advances or retards the progress of the people and the welfare of free states, there is no better course than to follow Sir Erskine May upon the road which he has been the first to open.

In the midst of an invincible despotism, among paternal, military, and sacerdotal monarchies, the dawn rises with the deliverance of Israel out of bondage, and with the covenant which began their political life. The tribes broke up into smaller communities, administering their own affairs under the law they had sworn to observe, but which there was no civil power to enforce. They governed themselves without a central authority, a legislature, or a dominant priesthood; and this polity, which, under the forms of primitive society, realised some aspirations of developed democracy, resisted for above three hundred years the constant peril of anarchy and subjugation. The monarchy itself was limited by the same absence of a legislative power, by the submission of the king to the law that bound his subjects, by the perpetual appeal of prophets to the conscience of the people as its appointed guardian, and by the ready resource of deposition. Later still, in the decay of the religious and national constitution, the same ideas appeared with intense energy, in an extraordinary association of men who lived in austerity and self-denial, rejected slavery, maintained equality, and held their property in common, and who constituted in miniature an almost perfect Republic. But the Essenes perished with the city and the Temple, and for many ages the example of the Hebrews was more serviceable to authority than to freedom. After the Reformation, the sects that broke resolutely with the traditions of Church and State as they came down from Catholic times, and sought for their new institutions a higher authority than custom, reverted to the memory of a commonwealth founded on a voluntary contract, on self-government, federalism, equality, in which election was preferred to inheritance, and monarchy was an emblem of the heathen; and they conceived that there was no better model for themselves than a nation constituted by religion, owning no lawgiver but Moses, and obeying no king but God. Political thought had until then been guided by pagan experience.

Among the Greeks, Athens, the boldest pioneer of republican discovery, was the only democracy that prospered. It underwent the changes that were the common lot of Greek society, but it met them in a way that displayed a singular genius for politics. The struggle of competing classes for supremacy, almost everywhere a cause of oppression and bloodshed, became with them a genuine struggle for freedom; and the Athenian constitution grew, with little pressure from below, under the intelligent action of statesmen who were swayed by political reasoning more than by public opinion. They avoided violent and convulsive change, because the rate of their reforms kept ahead of the popular demand. Solon, whose laws began the reign of mind over force, instituted democracy by making the people, not indeed the administrators, but the source of power. He committed the Government not to rank or birth, but to land; and he regulated the political influence of the landowners by their share in the burdens of the public service. To the lower class, who neither bore arms nor paid taxes, and were excluded from the Government, he granted the privilege of choosing and of calling to account the men by whom they were governed, of confirming or rejecting the acts of the legislature and the judgments of the courts. Although he charged the Areopagus with the preservation of his laws, he provided that they might be revised according to need; and the ideal before his mind was government by all free citizens. His concessions to the popular element were narrow, and were carefully guarded. He yielded no more than was necessary to guarantee the attachment of the whole people to the State. But he admitted principles that went further than the claims which he conceded. He took only one step towards democracy, but it was the first of a series.

When the Persian wars, which converted aristocratic Athens into a maritime state, had developed new sources of wealth and a new description of interests, the class which had supplied many of the ships and most of the men that had saved the national independence and founded an empire, could not be excluded from power. Solon's principle, that political influence should be commensurate with political service, broke through the forms in which he had confined it, and the spirit of his constitution was too strong for the letter. The fourth estate was admitted to office, and in order that its candidates might obtain their share, and no more than their share, and that neither interest nor numbers might prevail, many public functionaries were appointed by lot. The Athenian idea of a Republic was to substitute the impersonal supremacy of law for the government of men. Mediocrity was a safeguard against the pretensions of superior capacity, for the established order was in danger, not from the average citizens, but from men, like Miltiades, of exceptional renown. The people of Athens venerated their constitution as a gift of the gods, the source and title of their power, a thing too sacred for wanton change. They had demanded a code, that the unwritten law might no longer be interpreted at will by Archons and Areopagites; and a well-defined and authoritative legislation was a triumph of the democracy.

So well was this conservative spirit understood, that the revolution which abolished the privileges of the aristocracy was promoted by Aristides and completed by Pericles, men free from the reproach of flattering the multitude. They associated all the free Athenians with the interest of the State, and called them, without distinction of class, to administer the powers that belonged to them. Solon had threatened with the loss of citizenship all who showed themselves indifferent in party conflicts, and Pericles declared that every man who neglected his share of public duty was a useless member of the community. That wealth might confer no unfair advantage, that the poor might not take bribes from the rich, he took them into the pay of the State during their attendance as jurors. That their numbers might give them no unjust superiority, he restricted the right of citizenship to those who came from Athenian parents on both sides; and thus he expelled more than 4000 men of mixed descent from the Assembly. This bold measure, which was made acceptable by a distribution of grain from Egypt among those who proved their full Athenian parentage, reduced the fourth class to an equality with the owners of real property. For Pericles, or Ephialtes--for it would appear that all their reforms had been carried in the year 460, when Ephialtes died--is the first democratic statesman who grasped the notion of political equality. The measures which made all citizens equal might have created a new inequality between classes, and the artificial privilege of land might have been succeeded by the more crushing preponderance of numbers. But Pericles held it to be intolerable that one portion of the people should be required to obey laws which others have the exclusive right of making; and he was able, during thirty years, to preserve the equipoise, governing by the general consent of the community, formed by free debate. He made the undivided people sovereign; but he subjected the popular initiative to a court of revision, and assigned a penalty to the proposer of any measure which should be found to be unconstitutional. Athens, under Pericles, was the most successful Republic that existed before the system of representation; but its splendour ended with his life.

The danger to liberty from the predominance either of privilege or majorities was so manifest, that an idea arose that equality of fortune would be the only way to prevent the conflict of class interests. The philosophers, Phaleas, Plato, Aristotle, suggested various expedients to level the difference between rich and poor. Solon had endeavoured to check the increase of estates; and Pericles had not only strengthened the public resources by bringing the rich under the control of an assembly in which they were not supreme, but he had employed those resources in improving the condition and the capacity of the masses. The grievance of those who were taxed for the benefit of others was easily borne so long as the tribute of the confederates filled the treasury. But the Peloponnesian war increased the strain on the revenue and deprived Athens of its dependencies. The balance was upset; and the policy of making one class give, that another might receive, was recommended not only by the interest of the poor, but by a growing theory, that wealth and poverty make bad citizens, that the middle class is the one most easily led by reason, and that the way to make it predominate is to depress whatever rises above the common level, and to raise whatever falls below it. This theory, which became inseparable from democracy, and contained a force which alone seems able to destroy it, was fatal to Athens, for it drove the minority to treason. The glory of the Athenian democrats is, not that they escaped the worst consequences of their principle, but that, having twice cast out the usurping oligarchy, they set bounds to their own power. They forgave their vanquished enemies; they abolished pay for attendance in the assembly; they established the supremacy of law by making the code superior to the people; they distinguished things that were constitutional from things that were legal, and resolved that no legislative act should pass until it had been pronounced consistent with the constitution.

The causes which ruined the Republic of Athens illustrate the connection of ethics with politics rather than the vices inherent to democracy. A State which has only 30,000 full citizens in a population of 500,000, and is governed, practically, by about 3000 people at a public meeting, is scarcely democratic. The short triumph of Athenian liberty, and its quick decline, belong to an age which possessed no fixed standard of right and wrong. An unparalleled activity of intellect was shaking the credit of the gods, and the gods were the givers of the law. It was a very short step from the suspicion of Protagoras, that there were no gods, to the assertion of Critias that there is no sanction for laws. If nothing was certain in theology, there was no certainty in ethics and no moral obligation. The will of man, not the will of God, was the rule of life, and every man and body of men had the right to do what they had the means of doing. Tyranny was no wrong, and it was hypocrisy to deny oneself the enjoyment it affords. The doctrine of the Sophists gave no limits to power and no security to freedom; it inspired that cry of the Athenians, that they must not be hindered from doing what they pleased, and the speeches of men like Athenagoras and Euphemus, that the democracy may punish men who have done no wrong, and that nothing that is profitable is amiss. And Socrates perished by the reaction which they provoked.

The disciples of Socrates obtained the ear of posterity. Their testimony against the government that put the best of citizens to death is enshrined in writings that compete with Christianity itself for influence on the opinions of men. Greece has governed the world by her philosophy, and the loudest note in Greek philosophy is the protest against Athenian democracy. But although Socrates derided the practice of leaving the choice of magistrates to chance, and Plato admired the bloodstained tyrant Critias, and Aristotle deemed Theramenes a greater statesman than Pericles, yet these are the men who laid the first stones of a purer system, and became the lawgivers of future commonwealths.

The main point in the method of Socrates was essentially democratic. He urged men to bring all things to the test of incessant inquiry, and not to content themselves with the verdict of authorities, majorities, or custom; to judge of right and wrong, not by the will or sentiment of others, but by the light which God has set in each man's reason and conscience. He proclaimed that authority is often wrong, and has no warrant to silence or to impose conviction. But he gave no warrant to resistance. He emancipated men for thought, but not for action. The sublime history of his death shows that the superstition of the State was undisturbed by his contempt for its rulers.

Plato had not his master's patriotism, nor his reverence for the civil power. He believed that no State can command obedience if it does not deserve respect; and he encouraged citizens to despise their government if they were not governed by wise men. To the aristocracy of philosophers he assigned a boundless prerogative; but as no government satisfied that test, his plea for despotism was hypothetical. When the lapse of years roused him from the fantastic dream of his Republic, his belief in divine government moderated his intolerance of human freedom. Plato would not suffer a democratic polity; but he challenged all existing authorities to justify themselves before a superior tribunal; he desired that all constitutions should be thoroughly remodelled, and he supplied the greatest need of Greek democracy, the conviction that the will of the people is subject to the will of God, and that all civil authority, except that of an imaginary state, is limited and conditional. The prodigious vitality of his writings has kept the glaring perils of popular government constantly before mankind; but it has also preserved the belief in ideal politics and the notion of judging the powers of this world by a standard from heaven. There has been no fiercer enemy of democracy; but there has been no stronger advocate of revolution.

In the Ethics Aristotle condemns democracy, even with a property qualification, as the worst of governments. But near the end of his life, when he composed his Politics, he was brought, grudgingly, to make a memorable concession. To preserve the sovereignty of law, which is the reason and the custom of generations, and to restrict the realm of choice and change, he conceived it best that no class of society should preponderate, that one man should not be subject to another, that all should command and all obey. He advised that power should be distributed to high and low; to the first according to their property, to the others according to numbers; and that it should centre in the middle class. If aristocracy and democracy were fairly combined and balanced against each other, he thought that none would be interested to disturb the serene majesty of impersonal government. To reconcile the two principles, he would admit even the poorer citizens to office and pay them for the discharge of public duties; but he would compel the rich to take their share, and would appoint magistrates by election and not by lot. In his indignation at the extravagance of Plato, and his sense of the significance of facts, he became, against his will, the prophetic exponent of a limited and regenerated democracy. But the Politics, which, to the world of living men, is the most valuable of his works, acquired no influence on antiquity, and is never quoted before the time of Cicero. Again it disappeared for many centuries; it was unknown to the Arabian commentators, and in Western Europe it was first brought to light by St. Thomas Aquinas, at the very time when an infusion of popular elements was modifying feudalism, and it helped to emancipate political philosophy from despotic theories and to confirm it in the ways of freedom.

The three generations of the Socratic school did more for the future reign of the people than all the institutions of the States of Greece. They vindicated conscience against authority, and subjected both to a higher law; and they proclaimed that doctrine of a mixed constitution, which has prevailed at last over absolute monarchy, and still has to contend against extreme Republicans and Socialists, and against the masters of a hundred legions. But their views of liberty were based on expediency, not on justice. They legislated for the favoured citizens of Greece, and were conscious of no principle that extended the same rights to the stranger and the slave. That discovery, without which all political science was merely conventional, belongs to the followers of Zeno.

The dimness and poverty of their theological speculation caused the Stoics to attribute the government of the universe less to the uncertain design of gods than to a definite law of nature. By that law, which is superior to religious traditions and national authorities, and which every man can learn from a guardian angel who neither sleeps nor errs, all are governed alike, all are equal, all are bound in charity to each other, as members of one community and children of the same God. The unity of mankind implied the existence of rights and duties common to all men, which legislation neither gives nor takes away. The Stoics held in no esteem the institutions that vary with time and place, and their ideal society resembled a universal Church more than an actual State. In every collision between authority and conscience they preferred the inner to the outer guide; and, in the words of Epictetus, regarded the laws of the gods, not the wretched laws of the dead. Their doctrine of equality, of fraternity, of humanity; their defence of individualism against public authority; their repudiation of slavery, redeemed democracy from the narrowness, the want of principle and of sympathy, which are its reproach among the Greeks. In practical life they preferred a mixed constitution to a purely popular government. Chrysippus thought it impossible to please both gods and men; and Seneca declared that the people is corrupt and incapable, and that nothing was wanting, under Nero, to the fulness of liberty, except the possibility of destroying it. But their lofty conception of freedom, as no exceptional privilege but the birthright of mankind, survived in the law of nations and purified the equity of Rome.

Whilst Dorian oligarchs and Macedonian kings crushed the liberties of Greece, the Roman Republic was ruined, not by its enemies, for there was no enemy it did not conquer, but by its own vices. It was free from many causes of instability and dissolution that were active in Greece--the eager quickness, the philosophic thought, the independent belief, the pursuit of unsubstantial grace and beauty. It was protected by many subtle contrivances against the sovereignty of numbers and against legislation by surprise. Constitutional battles had to be fought over and over again; and progress was so slow, that reforms were often voted many years before they could be carried into effect. The authority allowed to fathers, to masters, to creditors, was as incompatible with the spirit of freedom as the practice of the servile East. The Roman citizen revelled in the luxury of power; and his jealous dread of every change that might impair its enjoyment portended a gloomy oligarchy. The cause which transformed the domination of rigid and exclusive patricians into the model Republic, and which out of the decomposed Republic built up the archetype of all despotism, was the fact that the Roman Commonwealth consisted of two States in one. The constitution was made up of compromises between independent bodies, and the obligation of observing contracts was the standing security for freedom. The plebs obtained self-government and an equal sovereignty, by the aid of the tribunes of the people, the peculiar, salient, and decisive invention of Roman statecraft. The powers conferred on the tribunes, that they might be the guardians of the weak, were ill defined, but practically were irresistible. They could not govern, but they could arrest all government. The first and the last step of plebeian progress was gained neither by violence nor persuasion, but by seceding; and, in like manner, the tribunes overcame all the authorities of the State by the weapon of obstruction. It was by stopping public business for five years that Licinius established democratic equality. The safeguard against abuse was the right of each tribune to veto the acts of his colleagues. As they were independent of their electors, and as there could hardly fail to be one wise and honest man among the ten, this was the most effective instrument for the defence of minorities ever devised by man. After the Hortensian law, which in the year 286 gave to the plebeian assembly co-ordinate legislative authority, the tribunes ceased to represent the cause of a minority, and their work was done.

A scheme less plausible or less hopeful than one which created two sovereign legislatures side by side in the same community would be hard to find. Yet it effectually closed the conflict of centuries, and gave to Rome an epoch of constant prosperity and greatness. No real division subsisted in the people, corresponding to the artificial division in the State. Fifty years passed away before the popular assembly made use of its prerogative, and passed a law in opposition to the senate. Polybius could not detect a flaw in the structure as it stood. The harmony seemed to be complete, and he judged that a more perfect example of composite government could not exist. But during those happy years the cause which wrought the ruin of Roman freedom was in full activity; for it was the condition of perpetual war that brought about the three great changes which were the beginning of the end--the reforms of the Gracchi, the arming of the paupers, and the gift of the Roman suffrage to the people of Italy.

Before the Romans began their career of foreign conquest they possessed an army of 770,000 men; and from that time the consumption of citizens in war was incessant. Regions once crowded with the small freeholds of four or five acres, which were the ideal unit of Roman society and the sinew of the army and the State, were covered with herds of cattle and herds of slaves, and the substance of the governing democracy was drained. The policy of the agrarian reform was to reconstitute this peasant class out of the public domains, that is, out of lands which the ruling families had possessed for generations, which they had bought and sold, inherited, divided, cultivated, and improved. The conflict of interests that had so long slumbered revived with a fury unknown in the controversy between the patricians and the plebs. For it was now a question not Of equal rights but of subjugation. The social restoration of democratic elements could not be accomplished without demolishing the senate; and this crisis at last exposed the defect of the machinery and the peril of divided powers that were not to be controlled or reconciled. The popular assembly, led by Gracchus, had the power of making laws; and the only constitutional check was, that one of the tribunes should be induced to bar the proceedings. Accordingly, the tribune Octavius interposed his veto. The tribunician power, the most sacred of powers, which could not be questioned because it was founded on a covenant between the two parts of the community and formed the keystone of their union, was employed, in opposition to the will of the people, to prevent a reform on which the preservation of the democracy depended. Gracchus caused Octavius to be deposed. Though not illegal, this was a thing unheard of, and it seemed to the Romans a sacrilegious act that shook the pillars of the State, for it was the first significant revelation of democratic sovereignty. A tribune might burn the arsenal and betray the city, yet he could not be called to account until his year of office had expired. But when he employed against the people the authority with which they had invested him, the spell was dissolved. The tribunes had been instituted as the champions of the oppressed, when the plebs feared oppression. It was resolved that they should not interfere on the weaker side when the democracy were the strongest. They were chosen by the people as their defence against the aristocracy. It was not to be borne that they should become the agents of the aristocracy to make them once more supreme. Against a popular tribune, whom no colleague was suffered to oppose, the wealthy classes were defenceless. It is true that he held office, and was inviolable, only for a year. But the younger Gracchus was re-elected. The nobles accused him of aiming at the crown. A tribune who should be practically irremovable, as well as legally irresistible, was little less than an emperor. The senate carried on the conflict as men do who fight, not for public interests but for their own existence. They rescinded the agrarian laws. They murdered the popular leaders. They abandoned the constitution to save themselves, and invested Sylla with a power beyond all monarchs, to exterminate their foes. The ghastly conception of a magistrate legally proclaimed superior to all the laws was familiar to the stern spirit of the Romans. The decemvirs had enjoyed that arbitrary authority; but practically they were restrained by the two provisions which alone were deemed efficacious in Rome, the short duration of office, and its distribution among several colleagues. But the appointment of Sylla was neither limited nor divided. It was to last as long as he chose. Whatever he might do was right; and he was empowered to put whomsoever he pleased to death, without trial or accusation. All the victims who were butchered by his satellites suffered with the full sanction of the law.

When at last the democracy conquered, the Augustan monarchy, by which they perpetuated their triumph, was moderate in comparison with the licensed tyranny of the aristocratic chief. The Emperor was the constitutional head of the Republic, armed with all the powers requisite to master the senate. The instrument which had served to cast down the patricians was efficient against the new aristocracy of wealth and office. The tribunician power, conferred in perpetuity, made it unnecessary to create a king or a dictator. Thrice the senate proposed to Augustus the supreme power of making laws. He declared that the power of the tribunes already supplied him with all that he required. It enabled him to preserve the forms of a simulated republic. The most popular of all the magistracies of Rome furnished the marrow of Imperialism. For the Empire was created, not by usurpation, but by the legal act of a jubilant people, eager to close the era of bloodshed and to secure the largess of grain and coin, which amounted, at last, to 900,000 pounds a year. The people transferred to the Emperor the plenitude of their own sovereignty. To limit his delegated power was to challenge their omnipotence, to renew the issue between the many and the few which had been decided at Pharsalus and Philippi. The Romans upheld the absolutism of the Empire because it was their own. The elementary antagonism between liberty and democracy, between the welfare of minorities and the supremacy of masses, became manifest. The friend of the one was a traitor to the other. The dogma, that absolute power may, by the hypothesis of a popular origin, be as legitimate as constitutional freedom, began, by the combined support of the people and the throne, to darken the air.

Legitimate, in the technical sense of modern politics, the Empire was not meant to be. It had no right or claim to subsist apart from the will of the people. To limit the Emperor's authority was to renounce their own; but to take it away was to assert their own. They gave the Empire as they chose. They took it away as they chose. The Revolution was as lawful and as irresponsible as the Empire. Democratic institutions continued to develop. The provinces were no longer subject to an assembly meeting in a distant capital. They obtained the privileges of Roman citizens. Long after Tiberius had stripped the inhabitants of Rome of their electoral function, the provincials continued in undisturbed enjoyment of the right of choosing their own magistrates. They governed themselves like a vast confederation of municipal republics; and, even after Diocletian had brought in the forms as well as the reality of despotism, provincial assemblies, the obscure germ of representative institutions, exercised some control over the Imperial officers.

But the Empire owed the intensity of its force to the popular fiction. The principle, that the Emperor is not subject to laws from which he can dispense others, princeps legibus solutus, was interpreted to imply that he was above all legal restraint. There was no appeal from his sentence. He was the living law. The Roman jurists, whilst they adorned their writings with the exalted philosophy of the Stoics, consecrated every excess of Imperial prerogative with those famous maxims which have been balm to so many consciences and have sanctioned so much wrong; and the code of Justinian became the greatest obstacle, next to feudalism, with which liberty had to contend.

Ancient democracy, as it was in Athens in the best days of Pericles, or in Rome when Polybius described it, or even as it is idealised by Aristotle in the Sixth Book of his Politics, and by Cicero in the beginning of the Republic, was never more than a partial and insincere solution of the problem of popular government. The ancient politicians aimed no higher than to diffuse power among a numerous class. Their liberty was bound up with slavery. They never attempted to found a free State on the thrift and energy of free labour. They never divined the harder but more grateful task that constitutes the political life of Christian nations.

By humbling the supremacy of rank and wealth; by forbidding the State to encroach on the domain which belongs to God; by teaching man to love his neighbour as himself; by promoting the sense of equality; by condemning the pride of race, which was a stimulus of conquest, and the doctrine of separate descent, which formed the philosopher's defence of slavery; and by addressing not the rulers but the masses of mankind, and making opinion superior to authority, the Church that preached the Gospel to the poor had visible points of contact with democracy. And yet Christianity did not directly influence political progress. The ancient watchword of the Republic was translated by Papinian into the language of the Church: "Summa est ratio quæ pro religione fiat:" and for eleven hundred years, from the first to the last of the Constantines, the Christian Empire was as despotic as the pagan.

Meanwhile Western Europe was overrun by men who in their early home had been Republicans. The primitive constitution of the German communities was based on association rather than on subordination. They were accustomed to govern their affairs by common deliberation, and to obey authorities that were temporary and defined. It is one of the desperate enterprises of historical science to trace the free institutions of Europe and America, and Australia, to the life that was led in the forests of Germany. But the new States were founded on conquest, and in war the Germans were commanded by kings. The doctrine of self-government, applied to Gaul and Spain, would have made Frank and Goth disappear in the mass of the conquered people. It needed all the resources of a vigorous monarchy, of a military aristocracy, and of a territorial clergy, to construct States that were able to last. The result was the feudal system, the most absolute contradiction of democracy that has coexisted with civilisation.

The revival of democracy was due neither to the Christian Church nor to the Teutonic State, but to the quarrel between them. The effect followed the cause instantaneously. As soon as Gregory VII. made the Papacy independent of the Empire, the great conflict began; and the same pontificate gave birth to the theory of the sovereignty of the people. The Gregorian party argued that the Emperor derived his crown from the nation, and that the nation could take away what it had bestowed. The Imperialists replied that nobody could take away what the nation had given. It is idle to look for the spark either in flint or steel. The object of both parties was unqualified supremacy. Fitznigel has no more idea of ecclesiastical liberty than John of Salisbury of political. Innocent IV. is as perfect an absolutist as Peter de Vineis. But each party encouraged democracy in turn, by seeking the aid of the towns; each party in turn appealed to the people, and gave strength to the constitutional theory. In the fourteenth century English Parliaments judged and deposed their kings, as a matter of right; the Estates governed France without king or noble; and the wealth and liberties of the towns, which had worked out their independence from the centre of Italy to the North Sea, promised for a moment to transform European society. Even in the capitals of great princes, in Rome, in Paris, and, for two terrible days, in London, the commons obtained sway. But the curse of instability was on the municipal republics. Strasburg, according to Erasmus and Bodin, the best governed of all, suffered from perpetual commotions. An ingenious historian has reckoned seven thousand revolutions in the Italian cities. The democracies succeeded no better than feudalism in regulating the balance between rich and poor. The atrocities of the Jacquerie, and of Wat Tyler's rebellion, hardened the hearts of men against the common people. Church and State combined to put them down. And the last memorable struggles of mediæval liberty--the insurrection of the Comuneros in Castile, the Peasants' War in Germany, the Republic of Florence, and the Revolt of Ghent--were suppressed by Charles V. in the early years of the Reformation.

The middle ages had forged a complete arsenal of constitutional maxims: trial by jury, taxation by representation, local self-government, ecclesiastical independence, responsible authority. But they were not secured by institutions, and the Reformation began by making the dry bones more dry. Luther claimed to be the first divine who did justice to the civil power. He made the Lutheran Church the bulwark of political stability, and bequeathed to his disciples the doctrine of divine right and passive obedience. Zwingli, who was a staunch republican, desired that all magistrates should be elected, and should be liable to be dismissed by their electors; but he died too soon for his influence, and the permanent action of the Reformation on democracy was exercised through the Presbyterian constitution of Calvin.

It was long before the democratic element in Presbyterianism began to tell. The Netherlands resisted Philip II. for fifteen years before they took courage to depose him, and the scheme of the ultra-Calvinist Deventer, to subvert the ascendency of the leading States by the sovereign action of the whole people, was foiled by Leicester's incapacity, and by the consummate policy of Barnevelt. The Huguenots, having lost their leaders in 1572, reconstituted themselves on a democratic footing, and learned to think that a king who murders his subjects forfeits his divine right to be obeyed. But Junius Brutus and Buchanan damaged their credit by advocating regicide; and Hotoman, whose Franco-Gallia is the most serious work of the group, deserted his liberal opinions when the chief of his own party became king. The most violent explosion of democracy in that age proceeded from the opposite quarter. When Henry of Navarre became the next heir to the throne of France, the theory of the deposing power, which had proved ineffectual for more than a century, awoke with a new and more vigorous life. One-half of the nation accepted the view, that they were not bound to submit to a king they would not have chosen. A Committee of Sixteen made itself master of Paris, and, with the aid of Spain, succeeded for years in excluding Henry from his capital. The impulse thus given endured in literature for a whole generation, and produced a library of treatises on the right of Catholics to choose, to control, and to cashier their magistrates. They were on the losing side. Most of them were bloodthirsty, and were soon forgotten. But the greater part of the political ideas of Milton, Locke, and Rousseau, may be found in the ponderous Latin of Jesuits who were subjects of the Spanish Crown, of Lessius, Molina, Mariana, and Suarez.

The ideas were there, and were taken up when it suited them by extreme adherents of Rome and of Geneva; but they produced no lasting fruit until, a century after the Reformation, they became incorporated in new religious systems. Five years of civil war could not exhaust the royalism of the Presbyterians, and it required the expulsion of the majority to make the Long Parliament abandon monarchy. It had defended the constitution against the crown with legal arts, defending precedent against innovation, and setting up an ideal in the past which, with all the learning of Selden and of Prynne, was less certain than the Puritan statesmen supposed. The Independents brought in a new principle. Tradition had no authority for them, and the past no virtue. Liberty of conscience, a thing not to be found in the constitution, was more prized by many of them than all the statutes of the Plantagenets. Their idea that each congregation should govern itself abolished the force which is needed to preserve unity, and deprived monarchy of the weapon which made it injurious to freedom. An immense revolutionary energy resided in their doctrine, and it took root in America, and deeply coloured political thought in later times. But in England the sectarian democracy was strong only to destroy. Cromwell refused to be bound by it; and John Lilburne, the boldest thinker among English democrats, declared that it would be better for liberty to bring back Charles Stuart than to live under the sword of the Protector.

Lilburne was among the first to understand the real conditions of democracy, and the obstacle to its success in England. Equality of power could not be preserved, except by violence, together with an extreme inequality of possessions. There would always be danger, if power was not made to wait on property, that property would go to those who had the power. This idea of the necessary balance of property, developed by Harrington, and adopted by Milton in his later pamphlets, appeared to Toland, and even to John Adams, as important as the invention of printing, or the discovery of the circulation of the blood. At least it indicates the true explanation of the strange completeness with which the Republican party had vanished, a dozen years after the solemn trial and execution of the King. No extremity of misgovernment was able to revive it. When the treason of Charles II. against the constitution was divulged, and the Whigs plotted to expel the incorrigible dynasty, their aspirations went no farther than a Venetian oligarchy, with Monmouth for Doge. The Revolution of 1688 confined power to the aristocracy of freeholders. The conservatism of the age was unconquerable. Republicanism was distorted even in Switzerland, and became in the eighteenth century as oppressive and as intolerant as its neighbours.

In 1769, when Paoli fled from Corsica, it seemed that, in Europe at least, democracy was dead. It had, indeed, lately been defended in books by a man of bad reputation, whom the leaders of public opinion treated with contumely, and whose declamations excited so little alarm that George III. offered him a pension. What gave to Rousseau a power far exceeding that which any political writer had ever attained was the progress of events in America. The Stuarts had been willing that the colonies should serve as a refuge from their system of Church and State, and of all their colonies the one most favoured was the territory granted to William Penn. By the principles of the Society to which he belonged, it was necessary that the new State should be founded on liberty and equality. But Penn was further noted among Quakers as a follower of the new doctrine of Toleration. Thus it came to pass that Pennsylvania enjoyed the most democratic constitution in the world, and held up to the admiration of the eighteenth century an almost solitary example of freedom. It was principally through Franklin and the Quaker State that America influenced political opinion in Europe, and that the fanaticism of one revolutionary epoch was converted into the rationalism of another. American independence was the beginning of a new era, not merely as a revival of Revolution, but because no other Revolution ever proceeded from so slight a cause, or was ever conducted with so much moderation. The European monarchies supported it. The greatest statesmen in England averred that it was just. It established a pure democracy; but it was democracy in its highest perfection, armed and vigilant, less against aristocracy and monarchy than against its own weakness and excess. Whilst England was admired for the safeguards with which, in the course of many centuries, it had fortified liberty against the power of the crown, America appeared still more worthy of admiration for the safeguards which, in the deliberations of a single memorable year, it had set up against the power of its own sovereign people. It resembled no other known democracy, for it respected freedom, authority, and law. It resembled no other constitution, for it was contained in half a dozen intelligible articles. Ancient Europe opened its mind to two new ideas--that Revolution with very little provocation may be just; and that democracy in very large dimensions may be safe.

Whilst America was making itself independent, the spirit of reform had been abroad in Europe. Intelligent ministers, like Campomanes and Struensee, and well-meaning monarchs, of whom the most liberal was Leopold of Tuscany, were trying what could be done to make men happy by command. Centuries of absolute and intolerant rule had bequeathed abuses which nothing but the most vigorous use of power could remove. The age preferred the reign of intellect to the reign of liberty. Turgot, the ablest and most far-seeing reformer then living, attempted to do for France what less gifted men were doing with success in Lombardy, and Tuscany, and Parma. He attempted to employ the royal power for the good of the people, at the expense of the higher classes. The higher classes proved too strong for the crown alone; and Louis XVI. abandoned internal reforms in despair, and turned for compensation to a war with England for the deliverance of her American Colonies. When the increasing debt obliged him to seek heroic remedies, and he was again repulsed by the privileged orders, he appealed at last to the nation. When the States-General met, the power had already passed to the middle class, for it was by them alone that the country could be saved. They were strong enough to triumph by waiting. Neither the Court, nor the nobles, nor the army, could do anything against them. During the six months from January 1789 to the fall of the Bastille in July, France travelled as far as England in the six hundred years between the Earl of Leicester and Lord Beaconsfield. Ten years after the American alliance, the Rights of Man, which had been proclaimed at Philadelphia, were repeated at Versailles. The alliance had borne fruit on both sides of the Atlantic, and for France, the fruit was the triumph of American ideas over English. They were more popular, more simple, more effective against privilege, and, strange to say, more acceptable to the King. The new French constitution allowed no privileged orders, no parliamentary ministry, no power of dissolution, and only a suspensive veto. But the characteristic safeguards of the American Government were rejected: Federalism, separation of Church and State, the Second Chamber, the political arbitration of the supreme judicial body. That which weakened the Executive was taken: that which restrained the Legislature was left. Checks on the crown abounded; but should the crown be vacant, the powers that remained would be without a check. The precautions were all in one direction. Nobody would contemplate the contingency that there might be no king. The constitution was inspired by a profound disbelief in Louis XVI. and a pertinacious belief in monarchy. The assembly voted without debate, by acclamation, a Civil List three times as large as that of Queen Victoria. When Louis fled, and the throne was actually vacant, they brought him back to it, preferring the phantom of a king who was a prisoner to the reality of no king at all.

Next to this misapplication of American examples, which was the fault of nearly all the leading statesmen, excepting Mounier, Mirabeau, and Sieyès, the cause of the Revolution was injured by its religious policy. The most novel and impressive lesson taught by the fathers of the American Republic was that the people, and not the administration, should govern. Men in office were salaried agents, by whom the nation wrought its will. Authority submitted to public opinion, and left to it not only the control, but the initiative of government. Patience in waiting for a wind, alacrity in catching it, the dread of exerting unnecessary influence, characterise the early presidents. Some of the French politicians shared this view, though with less exaggeration than Washington. They wished to decentralise the government, and to obtain, for good or evil, the genuine expression of popular sentiment. Necker himself, and Buzot, the most thoughtful of the Girondins, dreamed of federalising France. In the United States there was no current of opinion, and no combination of forces, to be seriously feared. The government needed no security against being propelled in a wrong direction. But the French Revolution was accomplished at the expense of powerful classes. Besides the nobles, the Assembly, which had been made supreme by the accession of the clergy, and had been led at first by popular ecclesiastics, by Sieyès, Talleyrand, Cicé, La Luzerne, made an enemy of the clergy. The prerogative could not be destroyed without touching the Church. Ecclesiastical patronage had helped to make the crown absolute. To leave it in the hands of Louis and his ministers was to renounce the entire policy of the constitution. To disestablish, was to make it over to the Pope. It was consistent with the democratic principle to introduce election into the Church. It involved a breach with Rome; but so, indeed, did the laws of Joseph II., Charles III., and Leopold. The Pope was not likely to cast away the friendship of France, if he could help it; and the French clergy were not likely to give trouble by their attachment to Rome. Therefore, amid the indifference of many, and against the urgent, and probably sincere, remonstrances of Robespierre and Marat, the Jansenists, who had a century of persecution to avenge, carried the Civil Constitution. The coercive measures which enforced it led to the breach with the King, and the fall of the monarchy; to the revolt of the provinces, and the fall of liberty. The Jacobins determined that public opinion should not reign, that the State should not remain at the mercy of powerful combinations. They held the representatives of the people under control, by the people itself. They attributed higher authority to the direct than to the indirect voice of the democratic oracle. They armed themselves with power to crush every adverse, every independent force, and especially to put down the Church, in whose cause the provinces had risen against the capital. They met the centrifugal federalism of the friends of the Gironde by the most resolute centralisation. France was governed by Paris; and Paris by its municipality and its mob. Obeying Rousseau's maxim, that the people cannot delegate its power, they raised the elementary constituency above its representatives. As the greatest constituent body, the most numerous accumulation of primary electors, the largest portion of sovereignty, was in the people of Paris, they designed that the people of Paris should rule over France, as the people of Rome, the mob as well as the senate, had ruled, not ingloriously, over Italy, and over half the nations that surround the Mediterranean. Although the Jacobins were scarcely more irreligious than the Abbé Sieyès or Madame Roland, although Robespierre wanted to force men to believe in God, although Danton went to confession and Barère was a professing Christian, they imparted to modern democracy that implacable hatred of religion which contrasts so strangely with the example of its Puritan prototype.

The deepest cause which made the French Revolution so disastrous to liberty was its theory of equality. Liberty was the watchword of the middle class, equality of the lower. It was the lower class that won the battles of the third estate; that took the Bastille, and made France a constitutional monarchy; that took the Tuileries, and made France a Republic. They claimed their reward. The middle class, having cast down the upper orders with the aid of the lower, instituted a new inequality and a privilege for itself. By means of a taxpaying qualification it deprived its confederates of their vote. To those, therefore, who had accomplished the Revolution, its promise was not fulfilled. Equality did nothing for them. The opinion, at that time, was almost universal, that society is founded on an agreement which is voluntary and conditional, and that the links which bind men to it are terminable, for sufficient reason, like those which subject them to authority. From these popular premises the logic of Marat drew his sanguinary conclusions. He told the famished people that the conditions on which they had consented to bear their evil lot, and had refrained from violence, had not been kept to them. It was suicide, it was murder, to submit to starve and to see one's children starving, by the fault of the rich. The bonds of society were dissolved by the wrong it inflicted. The state of nature had come back, in which every man had a right to what he could take. The time had come for the rich to make way for the poor. With this theory of equality, liberty was quenched in blood, and Frenchmen became ready to sacrifice all other things to save life and fortune.

Twenty years after the splendid opportunity that opened in 1789, the reaction had triumphed everywhere in Europe; ancient constitutions had perished as well as new; and even England afforded them neither protection nor sympathy. The liberal, at least the democratic revival, came from Spain. The Spaniards fought against the French for a king, who was a prisoner in France. They gave themselves a constitution, and placed his name at the head of it. They had a monarchy, without a king. It required to be so contrived that it would work in the absence, possibly the permanent absence, of the monarch. It became, therefore, a monarchy only in name, composed, in fact, of democratic forces. The constitution of 1812 was the attempt of inexperienced men to accomplish the most difficult task in politics. It was smitten with sterility. For many years it was the standard of abortive revolutions among the so-called Latin nations. It promulgated the notion of a king who should flourish only in name, and should not even discharge the humble function which Hegel assigns to royalty, of dotting i's for the people.

The overthrow of the Cadiz constitution, in 1823, was the supreme triumph of the restored monarchy of France. Five years later, under a wise and liberal minister, the Restoration was advancing fairly on the constitutional paths, when the incurable distrust of the Liberal party defeated Martignac, and brought in the ministry of extreme royalists that ruined the monarchy. In labouring to transfer power from the class which the Revolution had enfranchised to those which it had overthrown, Polignac and La Bourdonnaie would gladly have made terms with the working men. To break the influence of intellect and capital by means of universal suffrage, was an idea long and zealously advocated by some of their supporters. They had not foresight or ability to divide their adversaries, and they were vanquished in 1830 by the united democracy.

The promise of the Revolution of July was to reconcile royalists and democrats. The King assured Lafayette that he was a republican at heart; and Lafayette assured France that Louis Philippe was the best of republics. The shock of the great event was felt in Poland, and Belgium, and even in England. It gave a direct impulse to democratic movements in Switzerland.

Swiss democracy had been in abeyance since 1815. The national will had no organ. The cantons were supreme; and governed as inefficiently as other governments under the protecting shade of the Holy Alliance. There was no dispute that Switzerland called for extensive reforms, and no doubt of the direction they would take. The number of the cantons was the great obstacle to all improvement. It was useless to have twenty-five governments in a country equal to one American State, and inferior in population to one great city. It was impossible that they should be good governments. A central power was the manifest need of the country. In the absence of an efficient federal power, seven cantons formed a separate league for the protection of their own interests. Whilst democratic ideas were making way in Switzerland, the Papacy was travelling in the opposite direction, and showing an inflexible hostility for ideas which are the breath of democratic life. The growing democracy and the growing Ultramontanism came into collision. The Sonderbund could aver with truth that there was no safety for its rights under the Federal Constitution. The others could reply, with equal truth, that there was no safety for the constitution with the Sonderbund. In 1847, it came to a war between national sovereignty and cantonal sovereignty. The Sonderbund was dissolved, and a new Federal Constitution was adopted, avowedly and ostensibly charged with the duty of carrying out democracy, and repressing the adverse influence of Rome. It was a delusive imitation of the American system. The President was powerless. The Senate was powerless. The Supreme Court was powerless. The sovereignty of the cantons was undermined, and their power centred in the House of Representatives. The Constitution of 1848 was a first step towards the destruction of Federalism. Another and almost a final step in the direction of centralisation was taken in 1874. The railways, and the vast interests they created, made the position of the cantonal governments untenable. The conflict with the Ultramontanes increased the demand for vigorous action; and the destruction of State Rights in the American war strengthened the hands of the Centralists. The Constitution of 1874 is one of the most significant works of modern democracy. It is the triumph of democratic force over democratic freedom. It overrules not only the Federal principle, but the representative principle. It carries important measures away from the Federal Legislature to submit them to the votes of the entire people, separating decision from deliberation. The operation is so cumbrous as to be generally ineffective. But it constitutes a power such as exists, we believe, under the laws of no other country. A Swiss jurist has frankly expressed the spirit of the reigning system by saying, that the State is the appointed conscience of the nation.

The moving force in Switzerland has been democracy relieved of all constraint, the principle of putting in action the greatest force of the greatest number. The prosperity of the country has prevented complications such as arose in France. The ministers of Louis Philippe, able and enlightened men, believed that they would make the people prosper if they could have their own way, and could shut out public opinion. They acted as if the intelligent middle class was destined by heaven to govern. The upper class had proved its unfitness before 1789; the lower class, since 1789. Government by professional men, by manufacturers and scholars, was sure to be safe, and almost sure to be reasonable and practical. Money became the object of a political superstition, such as had formerly attached to land, and afterwards attached to labour. The masses of the people, who had fought against Marmont, became aware that they had not fought for their own benefit. They were still governed by their employers.

When the King parted with Lafayette, and it was found that he would not only reign but govern, the indignation of the republicans found a vent in street fighting. In 1836, when the horrors of the infernal machine had armed the crown with ampler powers, and had silenced the republican party, the term Socialism made its appearance in literature. Tocqueville, who was writing the philosophic chapters that conclude his work, failed to discover the power which the new system was destined to exercise on democracy. Until then, democrats and communists had stood apart. Although the socialist doctrines were defended by the best intellects of France, by Thierry, Comte, Chevalier, and Georges Sand, they excited more attention as a literary curiosity than as the cause of future revolutions. Towards 1840, in the recesses of secret societies, republicans and socialists coalesced. Whilst the Liberal leaders, Lamartine and Barrot, discoursed on the surface concerning reform, Ledru Rollin and Louis Blanc were quietly digging a grave for the monarchy, the Liberal party, and the reign of wealth. They worked so well, and the vanquished republicans recovered so thoroughly, by this coalition, the influence they had lost by a long series of crimes and follies, that, in 1848, they were able to conquer without fighting. The fruit of their victory was universal suffrage.

From that time the promises of socialism have supplied the best energy of democracy. Their coalition has been the ruling fact in French politics. It created the "saviour of society," and the Commune; and it still entangles the footsteps of the Republic. It is the only shape in which democracy has found an entrance into Germany. Liberty has lost its spell; and democracy maintains itself by the promise of substantial gifts to the masses of the people.

Since the Revolution of July and the Presidency of Jackson gave the impulse which has made democracy preponderate, the ablest political writers, Tocqueville, Calhoun, Mill, and Laboulaye, have drawn, in the name of freedom, a formidable indictment against it. They have shown democracy without respect for the past or care for the future, regardless of public faith and of national honour, extravagant and inconstant, jealous of talent and of knowledge, indifferent to justice but servile towards opinion, incapable of organisation, impatient of authority, averse from obedience, hostile to religion and to established law. Evidence indeed abounds, even if the true cause be not proved. But it is not to these symptoms that we must impute the permanent danger and the irrepressible conflict. As much might be made good against monarchy, and an unsympathising reasoner might in the same way argue that religion is intolerant, that conscience makes cowards, that piety rejoices in fraud. Recent experience has added little to the observations of those who witnessed the decline after Pericles, of Thucydides, Aristophanes, Plato, and of the writer whose brilliant tract against the Athenian Republic is printed among the works of Xenophon. The manifest, the avowed difficulty is that democracy, no less than monarchy or aristocracy, sacrifices everything to maintain itself, and strives, with an energy and a plausibility that kings and nobles cannot attain, to override representation, to annul all the forces of resistance and deviation, and to secure, by Plebiscite, Referendum, or Caucus, free play for the will of the majority. The true democratic principle, that none shall have power over the people, is taken to mean that none shall be able to restrain or to elude its power. The true democratic principle, that the people shall not be made to do what it does not like, is taken to mean that it shall never be required to tolerate what it does not like. The true democratic principle, that every man's free will shall be as unfettered as possible, is taken to mean that the free will of the collective people shall be fettered in nothing. Religious toleration, judicial independence, dread of centralisation, jealousy of State interference, become obstacles to freedom instead of safeguards, when the centralised force of the State is wielded by the hands of the people. Democracy claims to be not only supreme, without authority above, but absolute, without independence below; to be its own master, not a trustee. The old sovereigns of the world are exchanged for a new one, who may be flattered and deceived, but whom it is impossible to corrupt or to resist, and to whom must be rendered the things that are Cæsar's and also the things that are God's. The enemy to be overcome is no longer the absolutism of the State, but the liberty of the subject. Nothing is more significant than the relish with which Ferrari, the most powerful democratic writer since Rousseau, enumerates the merits of tyrants, and prefers devils to saints in the interest of the community.

For the old notions of civil liberty and of social order did not benefit the masses of the people. Wealth increased, without relieving their wants. The progress of knowledge left them in abject ignorance. Religion flourished, but failed to reach them. Society, whose laws were made by the upper class alone, announced that the best thing for the poor is not to be born, and the next best, to die in childhood, and suffered them to live in misery and crime and pain. As surely as the long reign of the rich has been employed in promoting the accumulation of wealth, the advent of the poor to power will be followed by schemes for diffusing it. Seeing how little was done by the wisdom of former times for education and public health, for insurance, association, and savings, for the protection of labour against the law of self-interest, and how much has been accomplished in this generation, there is reason in the fixed belief that a great change was needed, and that democracy has not striven in vain. Liberty, for the mass, is not happiness; and institutions are not an end but a means. The thing they seek is a force sufficient to sweep away scruples and the obstacle of rival interests, and, in some degree, to better their condition. They mean that the strong hand that heretofore has formed great States, protected religions, and defended the independence of nations, shall help them by preserving life, and endowing it for them with some, at least, of the things men live for. That is the notorious danger of modern democracy. That is also its purpose and its strength. And against this threatening power the weapons that struck down other despots do not avail. The greatest happiness principle positively confirms it. The principle of equality, besides being as easily applied to property as to power, opposes the existence of persons or groups of persons exempt from the common law, and independent of the common will; and the principle, that authority is a matter of contract, may hold good against kings, but not against the sovereign people, because a contract implies two parties.

If we have not done more than the ancients to develop and to examine the disease, we have far surpassed them in studying the remedy. Besides the French Constitution of the year III., and that of the American Confederates,--the most remarkable attempts that have been made since the archonship of Euclides to meet democratic evils with the antidotes which democracy itself supplies,--our age has been prolific in this branch of experimental politics.

Many expedients have been tried, that have been evaded or defeated. A divided executive, which was an important phase in the transformation of ancient monarchies into republics, and which, through the advocacy of Condorcet, took root in France, has proved to be weakness itself.

The constitution of 1795, the work of a learned priest, confined the franchise to those who should know how to read and write; and in 1849 this provision was rejected by men who intended that the ignorant voter should help them to overturn the Republic. In our time no democracy could long subsist without educating the masses; and the scheme of Daunou is simply an indirect encouragement to elementary instruction.

In 1799 Sieyès suggested to Bonaparte the idea of a great Council, whose function it should be to keep the acts of the Legislature in harmony with the constitution--a function which the Nomophylakes discharged at Athens, and the Supreme Court in the United States, and which produced the Sénat Conservateur, one of the favourite implements of Imperialism. Sieyès meant that his Council should also serve the purpose of a gilded ostracism, having power to absorb any obnoxious politician, and to silence him with a thousand a year.

Napoleon the Third's plan of depriving unmarried men of their votes would have disfranchised the two greatest Conservative classes in France, the priest and the soldier.

In the American constitution it was intended that the chief of the executive should be chosen by a body of carefully selected electors. But since, in 1825, the popular candidate succumbed to one who had only a minority of votes, it has become the practice to elect the President by the pledged delegates of universal suffrage.

The exclusion of ministers from Congress has been one of the severest strains on the American system; and the law which required a majority of three to one enabled Louis Napoleon to make himself Emperor. Large constituencies make independent deputies; but experience proves that small assemblies, the consequence of large constituencies, can be managed by Government.

The composite vote and the cumulative vote have been almost universally rejected as schemes for baffling the majority. But the principle of dividing the representatives equally between population and property has never had fair play. It was introduced by Thouret into the constitution of 1791. The Revolution made it inoperative; and it was so manipulated from 1817 to 1848 by the fatal dexterity of Guizot as to make opinion ripe for universal suffrage.

Constitutions which forbid the payment of deputies and the system of imperative instructions, which deny the power of dissolution, and make the Legislature last for a fixed term, or renew it by partial re-elections, and which require an interval between the several debates on the same measure, evidently strengthen the independence of the representative assembly. The Swiss veto has the same effect, as it suspends legislation only when opposed by a majority of the whole electoral body, not by a majority of those who actually vote upon it.

Indirect elections are scarcely anywhere in use out of Germany, but they have been a favourite corrective of democracy with many thoughtful politicians. Where the extent of the electoral district obliges constituents to vote for candidates who are unknown to them, the election is not free. It is managed by wire-pullers, and by party machinery, beyond the control of the electors. Indirect election puts the choice of the managers into their hands. The objection is that the intermediate electors are generally too few to span the interval between voters and candidates, and that they choose representatives not of better quality, but of different politics. If the intermediate body consisted of one in ten of the whole constituency, the contact would be preserved, the people would be really represented, and the ticket system would be broken down.

The one pervading evil of democracy is the tyranny of the majority, or rather of that party, not always the majority, that succeeds, by force or fraud, in carrying elections. To break off that point is to avert the danger. The common system of representation perpetuates the danger. Unequal electorates afford no security to majorities. Equal electorates give none to minorities. Thirty-five years ago it was pointed out that the remedy is proportional representation. It is profoundly democratic, for it increases the influence of thousands who would otherwise have no voice in the government; and it brings men more near an equality by so contriving that no vote shall be wasted, and that every voter shall contribute to bring into Parliament a member of his own opinions. The origin of the idea is variously claimed for Lord Grey and for Considérant. The successful example of Denmark and the earnest advocacy of Mill gave it prominence in the world of politics. It has gained popularity with the growth of democracy, and we are informed by M. Naville that in Switzerland Conservatives and Radicals combined to promote it.

Of all checks on democracy, federalism has been the most efficacious and the most congenial; but, becoming associated with the Red Republic, with feudalism, with the Jesuits, and with slavery, it has fallen into disrepute, and is giving way to centralism. The federal system limits and restrains the sovereign power by dividing it, and by assigning to Government only certain defined rights. It is the only method of curbing not only the majority but the power of the whole people, and it affords the strongest basis for a second chamber, which has been found the essential security for freedom in every genuine democracy.

The fall of Guizot discredited the famous maxim of the Doctrinaires, that Reason is sovereign, and not king or people; and it was further exposed to the scoffer by the promise of Comte that Positivist philosophers shall manufacture political ideas, which no man shall be permitted to dispute. But putting aside international and criminal law, in which there is some approach to uniformity, the domain of political economy seems destined to admit the rigorous certainty of science. Whenever that shall be attained, when the battle between Economists and Socialists is ended, the evil force which Socialism imparts to democracy will be spent. The battle is raging more violently than ever, but it has entered into a new phase, by the rise of a middle party. Whether that remarkable movement, which is promoted by some of the first economists in Europe, is destined to shake the authority of their science, or to conquer socialism, by robbing it of that which is the secret of its strength, it must be recorded here as the latest and the most serious effort that has been made to disprove the weighty sentence of Rousseau, that democracy is a government for gods, but unfit for man.

We have been able to touch on only a few of the topics that crowd Sir Erskine May's volumes. Although he has perceived more clearly than Tocqueville the contact of democracy with socialism, his judgment is untinged with Tocqueville's despondency, and he contemplates the direction of progress with a confidence that approaches optimism. The notion of an inflexible logic in history does not depress him, for he concerns himself with facts and with men more than with doctrines, and his book is a history of several democracies, not of democracy. There are links in the argument, there are phases of development which he leaves unnoticed, because his object has not been to trace out the properties and the connection of ideas, but to explain the results of experience. We should consult his pages, probably, without effect, if we wished to follow the origin and sequence of the democratic dogmas, that all men are equal; that speech and thought are free; that each generation is a law to itself only; that there shall be no endowments, no entails, no primogeniture; that the people are sovereign; that the people can do no wrong. The great mass of those who, of necessity, are interested in practical politics have no such antiquarian curiosity. They want to know what can be learned from the countries where the democratic experiments have been tried; but they do not care to be told how M. Waddington has emended the Monumentum Ancyranum, what connection there was between Mariana and Milton, or between Penn and Rousseau, or who invented the proverb Vox Populi Vox Dei. Sir Erskine May's reluctance to deal with matters speculative and doctrinal, and to devote his space to the mere literary history of politics, has made his touch somewhat uncertain in treating of the political action of Christianity, perhaps the most complex and comprehensive question that can embarrass a historian. He disparages the influence of the mediæval Church on nations just emerging from a barbarous paganism, and he exalts it when it had become associated with despotism and persecution. He insists on the liberating action of the Reformation in the sixteenth century, when it gave a stimulus to absolutism; and he is slow to recognise, in the enthusiasm and violence of the sects in the seventeenth, the most potent agency ever brought to bear on democratic history. The omission of America creates a void between 1660 and 1789, and leaves much unexplained in the revolutionary movement of the last hundred years, which is the central problem of the book. But if some things are missed from the design, if the execution is not equal in every part, the praise remains to Sir Erskine May, that he is the only writer who has ever brought together the materials for a comparative study of democracy, that he has avoided the temper of party, that he has shown a hearty sympathy for the progress and improvement of mankind, and a steadfast faith in the wisdom and the power that guide it.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 5: The Quarterly Review, January 1878.]

Spotted a typo or a problem in this chapter? Tell us

IV. THE MASSACRE OF ST. BARTHOLOMEW[6]

The way in which Coligny and his adherents met their death has been handed down by a crowd of trustworthy witnesses, and few things in history are known in more exact detail. But the origin and motives of the tragedy, and the manner of its reception by the opinion of Christian Europe, are still subject to controversy. Some of the evidence has been difficult of access, part is lost, and much has been deliberately destroyed. No letters written from Paris at the time have been found in the Austrian archives. In the correspondence of thirteen agents of the House of Este at the Court of Rome, every paper relating to the event has disappeared. All the documents of 1572, both from Rome and Paris, are wanting in the archives of Venice. In the Registers of many French towns the leaves which contained the records of August and September in that year have been torn out. The first reports sent to England by Walsingham and by the French Government have not been recovered. Three accounts printed at Rome, when the facts were new, speedily became so rare that they have been forgotten. The Bull of Gregory XIII. was not admitted into the official collections; and the reply to Muretus has escaped notice until now. The letters of Charles IX. to Rome, with the important exception of that which he wrote on the 24th of August, have been dispersed and lost The letters of Gregory XIII. to France have never been seen by persons willing to make them public. In the absence of these documents the most authentic information is that which is supplied by the French Ambassador and by the Nuncio. The despatches of Ferralz, describing the attitude of the Roman court, are extant, but have not been used. Those of Salviati have long been known. Chateaubriand took a copy when the papal archives were at Paris, and projected a work on the events with which they are concerned. Some extracts were published, with his consent, by the continuator of Mackintosh; and a larger selection, from the originals in the Vatican, appeared in Theiner's Annals of Gregory XIII. The letters written under Pius V. are beyond the limits of that work; and Theiner, moreover, has omitted whatever seemed irrelevant to his purpose. The criterion of relevancy is uncertain; and we shall avail ourselves largely of the unpublished portions of Salviati's correspondence, which were transcribed by Chateaubriand. These manuscripts, with others of equal importance not previously consulted, determine several doubtful questions of policy and design.

The Protestants never occupied a more triumphant position, and their prospects were never brighter, than in the summer of 1572. For many years the progress of their religion had been incessant. The most valuable of the conquests it has retained were already made; and the period of its reverses had not begun. The great division which aided Catholicism afterwards to recover so much lost ground was not openly confessed; and the effectual unity of the Reformed Churches was not yet dissolved. In controversial theology the defence was weaker than the attack. The works to which the Reformation owed its popularity and system were in the hands of thousands, while the best authors of the Catholic restoration had not begun to write. The press continued to serve the new opinions better than the old; and in literature Protestantism was supreme. Persecuted in the South, and established by violence in the North, it had overcome the resistance of princes in Central Europe, and had won toleration without ceasing to be intolerant. In France and Poland, in the dominions of the Emperor and under the German prelates, the attempt to arrest its advance by physical force had been abandoned. In Germany it covered twice the area that remained to it in the next generation, and, except in Bavaria, Catholicism was fast dying out. The Polish Government had not strength to persecute, and Poland became the refuge of the sects. When the bishops found that they could not prevent toleration, they resolved that they would not restrict it. Trusting to the maxim, "Bellum Haereticorum pax est Ecclesiae," they insisted that liberty should extend to those whom the Reformers would have exterminated.[7] The Polish Protestants, in spite of their dissensions, formed themselves into one great party. When the death of the last of the Jagellons, on the 7th of July 1572, made the monarchy elective, they were strong enough to enforce their conditions on the candidates; and it was thought that they would be able to decide the election, and obtain a king of their own choosing. Alva's reign of Terror had failed to pacify the Low Countries, and he was about to resign the hopeless task to an incapable successor. The taking of the Brill in April was the first of those maritime victories which led to the independence of the Dutch. Mons fell in May; and in July the important province of Holland declared for the Prince of Orange. The Catholics believed that all was lost if Alva remained in command.[8]

The decisive struggle was in France. During the minority of Charles IX. persecution had given way to civil war, and the Regent, his mother, had vainly striven, by submitting to neither party, to uphold the authority of the Crown. She checked the victorious Catholics, by granting to the Huguenots terms which constituted them, in spite of continual disaster in the field, a vast and organised power in the State. To escape their influence it would have been necessary to invoke the help of Philip II., and to accept protection which would have made France subordinate to Spain. Philip laboured to establish such an alliance; and it was to promote this scheme that he sent his queen, Elizabeth of Valois, to meet her mother at Bayonne. In 1568 Elizabeth died; and a rumour came to Catherine touching the manner of her death which made it hard to listen to friendly overtures from her husband. Antonio Perez, at that time an unscrupulous instrument of his master's will, afterwards accused him of having poisoned his wife. "On parle fort sinistrement de sa mort, pour avoir été advancée," says Brantôme. After the massacre of the Protestants, the ambassador at Venice, a man distinguished as a jurist and a statesman, reproached Catherine with having thrown France into the hands of him in whom the world recognised her daughter's murderer. Catherine did not deny the truth of the report. She replied that she was "bound to think of her sons in preference to her daughters, that the foul-play was not fully proved, and that if it were it could not be avenged so long as France was weakened by religious discord."[9] She wrote as she could not have written if she had been convinced that the suspicion was unjust.

When Charles IX. began to be his own master he seemed resolved to follow his father and grandfather in their hostility to the Spanish Power. He wrote to a trusted servant that all his thoughts were bent on thwarting Philip.[10] While the Christian navies were fighting at Lepanto, the King of France was treating with the Turks. His menacing attitude in the following year kept Don Juan in Sicilian waters, and made his victory barren for Christendom. Encouraged by French protection, Venice withdrew from the League. Even in Corsica there was a movement which men interpreted as a prelude to the storm that France was raising against the empire of Spain. Rome trembled in expectation of a Huguenot invasion of Italy; for Charles was active in conciliating the Protestants both abroad and at home. He married a daughter of the tolerant Emperor Maximilian II.; and he carried on negotiations for the marriage of his brother with Queen Elizabeth, not with any hope of success, but in order to impress public opinion.[11] He made treaties of alliance, in quick succession, with England, with the German Protestants, and with the Prince of Orange. He determined that his brother Anjou, the champion of the Catholics, of whom it was said that he had vowed to root out the Protestants to a man,[12] should be banished to the throne of Poland. Disregarding the threats and entreaties of the Pope, he gave his sister in marriage to Navarre. By the peace of St. Germains the Huguenots had secured, within certain limits, freedom from persecution and the liberty of persecuting; so that Pius V. declared that France had been made the slave of heretics. Coligny was now the most powerful man in the kingdom. His scheme for closing the civil wars by an expedition for the conquest of the Netherlands began to be put in motion. French auxiliaries followed Lewis of Nassau into Mons; an army of Huguenots had already gone to his assistance; another was being collected near the frontier, and Coligny was preparing to take the command in a war which might become a Protestant crusade, and which left the Catholics no hope of victory. Meanwhile many hundreds of his officers followed him to Paris, to attend the wedding which was to reconcile the factions, and cement the peace of religion.

In the midst of those lofty designs and hopes, Coligny was struck down. On the morning of the 22nd of August he was shot at and badly wounded. Two days later he was killed; and a general attack was made on the Huguenots of Paris. It lasted some weeks, and was imitated in about twenty places. The chief provincial towns of France were among them.

Judged by its immediate result, the massacre of St. Bartholomew was a measure weakly planned and irresolutely executed, which deprived Protestantism of its political leaders, and left it for a time to the control of zealots. There is no evidence to make it probable that more than seven thousand victims perished. Judged by later events, it was the beginning of a vast change in the conflict of the churches. At first it was believed that a hundred thousand Huguenots had fallen. It was said that the survivors were abjuring by thousands,[13] that the children of the slain were made Catholics, that those whom the priest had admitted to absolution and communion were nevertheless put to death.[14] Men who were far beyond the reach of the French Government lost their faith in a religion which Providence had visited with so tremendous a judgment;[15] and foreign princes took heart to employ severities which could excite no horror after the scenes in France.

Contemporaries were persuaded that the Huguenots had been flattered and their policy adopted only for their destruction, and that the murder of Coligny and his followers was a long premeditated crime. Catholics and Protestants vied with each other in detecting proofs of that which they variously esteemed a sign of supernatural inspiration or of diabolical depravity. In the last forty years a different opinion has prevailed. It has been deemed more probable, more consistent with testimony and with the position of affairs at the time, that Coligny succeeded in acquiring extraordinary influence over the mind of Charles, that his advice really predominated, and that the sanguinary resolution was suddenly embraced by his adversaries as the last means of regaining power. This opinion is made plausible by many facts. It is supported by several writers who were then living, and by the document known as the Confession of Anjou. The best authorities of the present day are nearly unanimous in rejecting premeditation.

The evidence on the opposite side is stronger than they suppose. The doom which awaited the Huguenots had been long expected and often foretold. People at a distance, Monluc in Languedoc, and the Protestant Mylius in Italy, drew the same inference from the news that came from the court. Strangers meeting on the road discussed the infatuation of the Admiral.[16] Letters brought from Rome to the Emperor the significant intimation that the birds were all caged, and now was the time to lay hands on them.[17] Duplessis-Mornay, the future chief of the Huguenots, was so much oppressed with a sense of coming evil, that he hardly ventured into the streets on the wedding-day. He warned the Admiral of the general belief among their friends that the marriage concealed a plot for their ruin, and that the festivities would end in some horrible surprise.[18] Coligny was proof against suspicion. Several of his followers left Paris, but he remained unmoved. At one moment the excessive readiness to grant all his requests shook the confidence of his son-in-law Téligny; but the doubt vanished so completely that Téligny himself prevented the flight of his partisans after the attempt on the Admiral's life. On the morning of the fatal day, Montgomery sent word to Walsingham that Coligny was safe under protection of the King's Guards, and that no further stir was to be apprehended.[19]

For many years foreign advisers had urged Catherine to make away with these men. At first it was computed that half a dozen victims would be enough.[20] That was the original estimate of Alva, at Bayonne.[21] When the Duke of Ferrara was in France, in 1564, he proposed a larger measure, and he repeated this advice by the mouth of every agent whom he sent to France.[22] After the event, both Alva and Alfonso reminded Catherine that she had done no more than follow their advice.[23] Alva's letter explicitly confirms the popular notion which connects the massacre with the conference of Bayonne; and it can no longer now be doubted that La Roche-sur-Yon, on his deathbed, informed Coligny that murderous resolutions had been taken on that occasion.[24] But the Nuncio, Santa Croce, who was present, wrote to Cardinal Borromeo that the Queen had indeed promised to punish the infraction of the Edict of Pacification, but that this was a very different thing from undertaking to extirpate heresy. Catherine affirmed that in this way the law could reach all the Huguenot ministers; and Alva professed to believe her.[25] Whatever studied ambiguity of language she may have used, the action of 1572 was uninfluenced by deliberations which were seven years old.

During the spring and summer the Tuscan agents diligently prepared their master for what was to come. Petrucci wrote on the 19th of March that, for a reason which he could not trust to paper, the marriage would certainly take place, though not until the Huguenots had delivered up their strongholds. Four weeks later Alamanni announced that the Queen's pious design for restoring unity of faith would, by the grace of God, be speedily accomplished. On the 9th of August Petrucci was able to report that the plan arranged at Bayonne was near execution.[26] Yet he was not fully initiated. The Queen afterwards assured him that she had confided the secret to no foreign resident except the Nuncio,[27] and Petrucci resentfully complains that she had also consulted the Ambassador of Savoy. Venice, like Florence and Savoy, was not taken by surprise. In February the ambassador Contarini explained to the Senate the specious tranquillity in France, by saying that the Government reckoned on the death of the Admiral or the Queen of Navarre to work a momentous change.[28] Cavalli, his successor, judged that a business so grossly mismanaged showed no signs of deliberation.[29] There was another Venetian at Paris who was better informed. The Republic was seeking to withdraw from the league against the Turks; and her most illustrious statesman, Giovanni Michiel, was sent to solicit the help of France in negotiating peace.[30] The account which he gave of his mission has been pronounced by a consummate judge of Venetian State-Papers the most valuable report of the sixteenth century.[31] He was admitted almost daily to secret conference with Anjou, Nevers, and the group of Italians on whom the chief odium rests; and there was no counsellor to whom Catherine more willingly gave ear.[32] Michiel affirms that the intention had been long entertained, and that the Nuncio had been directed to reveal it privately to Pius V.[33]

Salviati was related to Catherine, and had gained her good opinion as Nuncio in the year 1570. The Pope had sent him back because nobody seemed more capable of diverting her and her son from the policy which caused so much uneasiness at Rome.[34] He died many years later, with the reputation of having been one of the most eminent Cardinals at a time when the Sacred College was unusually rich in talent. Personally, he had always favoured stern measures of repression. When the Countess of Entremont was married to Coligny, Salviati declared that she had made herself liable to severe penalties by entertaining proposals of marriage with so notorious a heretic, and demanded that the Duke of Savoy should, by all the means in his power, cause that wicked bride to be put out of the way.[35] When the peace of St. Germains was concluded, he assured Charles and Catherine that their lives were in danger, as the Huguenots were seeking to pull down the throne as well as the altar. He believed that all intercourse with them was sinful, and that the sole remedy was utter extermination by the sword. "I am convinced," he wrote, "that it will come to this." "If they do the tenth part of what I have advised, it will be well for them."[36] After an audience of two hours, at which he had presented a letter from Pius V., prophesying the wrath of Heaven, Salviati perceived that his exhortations made some impression. The King and Queen whispered to him that they hoped to make the peace yield such fruit that the end would more than countervail the badness of the beginning; and the King added, in strict confidence, that his plan was one which, once told, could never be executed.[37] This might have been said to delude the Nuncio; but he was inclined on the whole to believe that it was sincerely meant. The impression was confirmed by the Archbishop of Sens, Cardinal Pellevé, who informed him that the Huguenot leaders were caressed at Court in order to detach them from their party, and that after the loss of their leaders it would not take more than three days to deal with the rest.[38] Salviati on his return to France was made aware that his long-deferred hopes were about to be fulfilled. He shadowed it forth obscurely in his despatches. He reported that the Queen allowed the Huguenots to pass into Flanders, believing that the admiral would become more and more presumptuous until he gave her an opportunity of retribution; for she excelled in that kind of intrigue. Some days later he knew more, and wrote that he hoped soon to have good news for his Holiness.[39] At the last moment his heart misgave him. On the morning of the 21st of August the Duke of Montpensier and the Cardinal of Bourbon spoke with so much unconcern, in his presence, of what was then so near, that he thought it hardly possible the secret could be kept.[40]

The foremost of the French prelates was the Cardinal of Lorraine. He had held a prominent position at the council of Trent; and for many years he had wielded the influence of the House of Guise over the Catholics of France. In May 1572 he went to Rome; and he was still there when the news came from Paris in September. He at once made it known that the resolution had been taken before he left France, and that it was due to himself and his nephew, the Duke of Guise.[41] As the spokesman of the Gallican Church in the following year he delivered a harangue to Charles IX., in which he declared that Charles had eclipsed the glory of preceding kings by slaying the false prophets, and especially by the holy deceit and pious dissimulation with which he had laid his plans.[42]

There was one man who did not get his knowledge from rumour, and who could not be deceived by lies. The King's confessor, Sorbin, afterwards Bishop of Nevers, published in 1574 a narrative of the life and death of Charles IX. He bears unequivocal testimony that that clement and magnanimous act, for so he terms it, was resolved upon beforehand, and he praises the secrecy as well as the justice of his hero.[43]

Early in the year a mission of extraordinary solemnity had appeared in France. Pius V., who was seriously alarmed at the conduct of Charles, had sent the Cardinal of Alessandria as Legate to the Kings of Spain and Portugal, and directed him, in returning, to visit the Court at Blois. The Legate was nephew to the Pope, and the man whom he most entirely trusted.[44] His character stood so high that the reproach of nepotism was never raised by his promotion. Several prelates destined to future eminence attended him. His chief adviser was Hippolyto Aldobrandini, who, twenty years later, ascended the papal chair as Clement VIII. The companion whose presence conferred the greatest lustre on the mission was the general of the Jesuits, Francis Borgia, the holiest of the successors of Ignatius, and the most venerated of men then living. Austerities had brought him to the last stage of weakness; and he was sinking under the malady of which he was soon to die. But it was believed that the words of such a man, pleading for the Church, would sway the mind of the King. The ostensible purpose of the Legate's journey was to break off the match with Navarre, and to bring France into the Holy League. He gained neither object. When he was summoned back to Rome it was understood in France that he had reaped nothing but refusals, and that he went away disappointed.[45] The jeers of the Protestants pursued him.[46] But it was sufficiently certain beforehand that France could not plunge into a Turkish war.[47] The real business of the Legate, besides proposing a Catholic husband for the Princess, was to ascertain the object of the expedition which was fitting out in the Western ports. On both points he had something favourable to report. In his last despatch, dated Lyons, the 6th of March, he wrote that he had failed to prevent the engagement with Navarre, but that he had something for the Pope's private ear, which made his journey not altogether unprofitable.[48] The secret was soon divulged in Italy. The King had met the earnest remonstrances of the Legate by assuring him that the marriage afforded the only prospect of wreaking vengeance on the Huguenots: the event would show; he could say no more, but desired his promise to be carried to the Pope. It was added that he had presented a ring to the Legate, as a pledge of sincerity, which the Legate refused. The first to publish this story was Capilupi, writing only seven months later. It was repeated by Folieta,[49] and is given with all details by the historians of Pius V.--Catena and Gabuzzi. Catena was secretary to the Cardinal of Alessandria as early as July 1572, and submitted his work to him before publication.[50] Gabuzzi wrote at the instance of the same Cardinal, who supplied him with materials; and his book was examined and approved by Borghese, afterwards Paul V. Both the Cardinal of Alessandria and Paul V., therefore, were instrumental in causing it to be proclaimed that the Legate was acquainted in February 1572 with the intention which the King carried out in August.

The testimony of Aldobrandini was given still more distinctly, and with greater definiteness and authority. When he was required, as Pope, to pronounce upon the dissolution of the ill-omened marriage, he related to Borghese and other Cardinals what had passed in that interview between the Legate and the King, adding that, when the report of the massacre reached Rome, the Cardinal exclaimed: "God be praised! the King of France has kept his word." Clement referred D'Ossat to a narrative of the journey which he had written himself, and in which those things would be found.[51] The clue thus given has been unaccountably neglected, although the Report was known to exist. One copy is mentioned by Giorgi; and Mazzuchelli knew of another. Neither of them had read it; for they both ascribe it to Michele Bonelli, the Cardinal of Alessandria. The first page would have satisfied them that it was not his work. Clement VIII. describes the result of the mission to Blois in these words: "Quae rationes eo impulerunt regem ut semel apprehensa manu Cardinalis in hanc vocem proruperit: Significate Pontifici illumque certum reddite me totum hoc quod circa id matrimonium feci et facturus sum, nulla alia de causa facere, quam ulciscendi inimicos Dei et hujus regni, et puniendi tam infidos rebelles, ut eventus ipse docebit, nec aliud vobis amplius significare possum. Quo non obstante semper Cardinalis eas subtexuit difficultates quas potuit, objiciens regi possetne contrahi matrimonium a fidele cum infidele, sitve dispensatio necessaria; quod si est nunquam Pontificem inductum iri ut illam concedat. Re ipsa ita in suspenso relicta discedendum esse putavit, cum jam rescivisset qua de causa naves parabantur, qui apparatus contra Rocellam tendebant."

The opinion that the massacre of St. Bartholomew was a sudden and unpremeditated act cannot be maintained; but it does not follow that the only alternative is to believe that it was the aim of every measure of the Government for two years before. Catherine had long contemplated it as her last expedient in extremity; but she had decided that she could not resort to it while her son was virtually a minor.[52] She suggested the idea to him in 1570. In that year he gave orders that the Huguenots should be slaughtered at Bourges. The letter is preserved in which La Chastre spurned the command: "If the people of Bourges learn that your Majesty takes pleasure in such tragedies, they will repeat them often. If these men must die, let them first be tried; but do not reward my services and sully my reputation by such a stain."[53]

In the autumn of 1571 Coligny came to Blois. Walsingham suspected, and was afterwards convinced that the intention to kill him already existed. The Pope was much displeased by his presence at Court; but he received assurances from the ambassador which satisfied him. It was said at the time that he at first believed that Coligny was to be murdered, but that he soon found that there was no such praiseworthy design.[54]

In December the King knew that, when the moment came, the burghers of Paris would not fail him. Marcel, the Prévôt des Marchands, told him that the wealth was driven out of the country by the Huguenots: "The Catholics will bear it no longer.... Let your Majesty look to it. Your crown is at stake, Paris alone can save it."[55] By the month of February 1572 the plan had assumed a practical shape. The political idea before the mind of Charles was the same by which Richelieu afterwards made France the first Power in the world; to repress the Protestants at home, and to encourage them abroad. No means of effectual repression was left but murder. But the idea of raising up enemies to Spain by means of Protestantism was thoroughly understood. The Huguenots were allowed to make an expedition to aid William of Orange. Had they gained some substantial success, the Government would have followed it up, and the scheme of Coligny would have become for the moment the policy of France. But the Huguenot commander Genlis was defeated and taken. Coligny had had his chance. He had played and lost. It was useless now to propose his great venture against the King of Spain.[56]

Philip II. perfectly understood that this event was decisive. When the news came from Hainaut, he sent to the Nuncio Castagna to say that the King of France would gain more than himself by the loss of so many brave Protestants, and that the time was come for him, with the aid of the people of Paris, to get rid of Coligny and the rest of his enemies.[57] It appears from the letters of Salviati that he also regarded the resolution as having been finally taken after the defeat of Genlis.

The Court had determined to enforce unity of faith in France. An edict of toleration was issued for the purpose of lulling the Huguenots; but it was well known that it was only a pretence.[58] Strict injunctions were sent into the provinces that it should not be obeyed;[59] and Catherine said openly to the English envoy, "My son will have exercise but of one Religion in his Realm." On the 26th the King explained his plan to Mondoucet, his agent at Brussels: "Since it has pleased God to bring matters to the point they have now reached, I mean to use the opportunity to secure a perpetual repose in my kingdom, and to do something for the good of all Christendom. It is probable that the conflagration will spread to every town in France, and that they will follow the example of Paris, and lay hands on all the Protestants.... I have written to the governors to assemble forces in order to cut to pieces those who may resist."[60] The great object was to accomplish the extirpation of Protestantism in such a way as might leave intact the friendship with Protestant States. Every step was governed by this consideration; and the difficulty of the task caused the inconsistencies and the vacillation that ensued. By assassinating Coligny alone it was expected that such an agitation would be provoked among his partisans as would make it appear that they were killed by the Catholics in self-defence. Reports were circulated at once with that object. A letter written on the 23rd states that, after the Admiral was wounded on the day before, the Huguenots assembled at the gate of the Louvre, to avenge him on the Guises as they came out.[61] And the first explanation sent forth by the Government on the 24th was to the effect that the old feud between the Houses of Guise and of Châtillon had broken out with a fury which it was impossible to quell. This fable lasted only for a single day. On the 25th Charles writes that he has begun to discover traces of a Huguenot conspiracy;[62] and on the following day this was publicly substituted for the original story. Neither the vendetta of the Guises nor the conspiracy at Paris could be made to explain the massacre in the provinces. It required to be so managed that the King could disown it; Salviati describes the plan of operations. It was intended that the Huguenots should be slaughtered successively by a series of spontaneous outbreaks in different parts of the country. While Rochelle held out, it was dangerous to proceed with a more sweeping method.[63] Accordingly, no written instructions from the King are in existence; and the governors were expressly informed that they were to expect none.[64] Messengers went into the provinces with letters requiring that the verbal orders which they brought should be obeyed.[65] Many governors refused to act upon directions so vague and so hard to verify. Burgundy was preserved in this way. Two gentlemen arrived with letters of recommendation from the King, and declared his commands. They were asked to put them on paper; but they refused to give in writing what they had received by word of mouth. Mandelot, the Governor of Lyons, the most ignoble of the instruments in this foul deed, complained that the intimation of the royal wishes sent to him was obscure and insufficient.[66] He did not do his work thoroughly, and incurred the displeasure of the King. The orders were complicated as well as obscure. The public authorities were required to collect the Huguenots in some prison or other safe place, where they could be got at by hired bands of volunteer assassins. To screen the King it was desirable that his officers should not superintend the work themselves. Mandelot, having locked the gates of Lyons, and shut up the Huguenots together, took himself out of the way while they were being butchered. Carouge, at Rouen, received a commission to visit the other towns in his province. The magistrates implored him to remain, as nobody, in his absence, could restrain the people. When the King had twice repeated his commands, Carouge obeyed; and five hundred Huguenots perished.[67]

It was thought unsafe even for the King's brother to give distinct orders under his own hand. He wrote to his lieutenant in Anjou that he had commissioned Puygaillard to communicate with him on a matter which concerned the King's service and his own, and desired that his orders should be received as if they came directly from himself. They were, that every Huguenot in Angers, Saumur, and the adjoining country should be put to death without delay and without exception.[68] The Duke of Montpensier himself sent the same order to Brittany; but it was indignantly rejected by the municipality of Nantes.

When reports came in of the manner in which the event had been received in foreign countries, the Government began to waver, and the sanguinary orders were recalled. Schomberg wrote from Germany that the Protestant allies were lost unless they could be satisfied that the King had not decreed the extermination of their brethren.[69] He was instructed to explain the tumult in the provinces by the animosity bequeathed by the wars of religion.[70] The Bishop of Valence was intriguing in Poland on behalf of Anjou. He wrote that his success had been made very doubtful, and that, if further cruelties were perpetrated, ten millions of gold pieces would not bribe the venal Poles. He advised that a counterfeit edict, at least, should be published.[71] Charles perceived that he would be compelled to abandon his enterprise, and set about appeasing the resentment of the Protestant Powers. He promised that an inquiry should be instituted, and the proofs of the conspiracy communicated to foreign Governments. To give a judicial aspect to the proceedings, two prominent Huguenots were ceremoniously hanged. When the new ambassador from Spain praised the long concealment of the plan, Charles became indignant.[72] It was repeated everywhere that the thing had been arranged with Rome and Spain; and he was especially studious that there should be no symptoms of a private understanding with either power.[73] He was able to flatter himself that he had at least partially succeeded. If he had not exterminated his Protestant subjects, he had preserved his Protestant allies. William the Silent continued to solicit his aid; Elizabeth consented to stand godmother to the daughter who was born to him in October; he was allowed to raise mercenaries in Switzerland; and the Polish Protestants agreed to the election of his brother. The promised evidence of the Huguenot conspiracy was forgotten; and the King suppressed the materials which were to have served for an official history of the event.[74]

Zeal for religion was not the motive which inspired the chief authors of this extraordinary crime. They were trained to look on the safety of the monarchy as the sovereign law, and on the throne as an idol that justified sins committed in its worship. At all times there have been men, resolute and relentless in the pursuit of their aims, whose ardour was too strong to be restricted by moral barriers or the instinct of humanity. In the sixteenth century, beside the fanaticism of freedom, there was an abject idolatry of power; and laws both human and divine were made to yield to the intoxication of authority and the reign of will. It was laid down that kings have the right of disposing of the lives of their subjects, and may dispense with the forms of justice. The Church herself, whose supreme pontiff was now an absolute monarch, was infected with this superstition. Catholic writers found an opportune argument for their religion in the assertion that it makes the prince master of the consciences as well as the bodies of the people, and enjoins submission even to the vilest tyranny.[75] Men whose lives were precious to the Catholic cause could be murdered by royal command, without protest from Rome. When the Duke of Guise, with the Cardinal his brother, was slain by Henry III., he was the most powerful and devoted upholder of Catholicism in France. Sixtus V. thundered against the sacrilegious tyrant who was stained with the blood of a prince of the Church; but he let it be known very distinctly that the death of the Duke caused him little concern.[76]

Catherine was the daughter of that Medici to whom Machiavelli had dedicated his Prince. So little did religion actuate her conduct that she challenged Elizabeth to do to the Catholics of England what she herself had done to the Protestants of France, promising that if they were destroyed there would be no loss of her good will.[77] The levity of her religious feelings appears from her reply when asked by Gomicourt what message he should take to the Duke of Alva: "I must give you the answer of Christ to the disciples of St. John, 'Ite et nuntiate quae vidistis et audivistis; caeci vident, claudi ambulant, leprosi mundantur.'" And she added, "Beatus qui non fuerit in me scandalizatus."[78]

If mere fanaticism had been their motive, the men who were most active in the massacre would not have spared so many lives. While Guise was galloping after Ferrières and Montgomery, who had taken horse betimes, and made for the coast, his house at Paris was crowded with families belonging to the proscribed faith, and strangers to him. A young girl who was amongst them has described his return, when he sent for the children, spoke to them kindly, and gave orders that they should be well treated as long as his roof sheltered them.[79] Protestants even spoke of him as a humane and chivalrous enemy.[80] Nevers was considered to have disgraced himself by the number of those whom he enabled to escape.[81] The Nuncio was shocked at their ill-timed generosity. He reported to Rome that the only one who had acted in the spirit of a Christian, and had refrained from mercy, was the King; while the other princes, who pretended to be good Catholics, and to deserve the favour of the Pope, had striven, one and all, to save as many Huguenots as they could.[82]

The worst criminals were not the men who did the deed. The crime of mobs and courtiers, infuriated by the lust of vengeance and of power, is not so strange a portent as the exultation of peaceful men, influenced by no present injury or momentary rage, but by the permanent and incurable perversion of moral sense wrought by a distorted piety.

Philip II., who had long suspected the court of France, was at once relieved from the dread which had oppressed him, and betrayed an excess of joy foreign to his phlegmatic nature.[83] He immediately sent six thousand crowns to the murderer of Coligny.[84] He persuaded himself that the breach between France and her allies was irreparable, that Charles would now be driven to seek his friendship, and that the Netherlands were out of danger.[85] He listened readily to the French ambassador, who assured him that his court had never swerved from the line of Catholic policy, but had intended all along to effect this great change.[86] Ayamonte carried his congratulations to Paris, and pretended that his master had been in the secret. It suited Philip that this should be believed by Protestant princes, in order to estrange them still more from France; but he wrote on the margin of Ayamonte's instructions, that it was uncertain how long previously the purpose had subsisted.[87] Juan and Diego de Zuñiga, his ambassadors at Rome and at Paris, were convinced that the long display of enmity to Spain was genuine, that the death of Coligny had been decided at the last moment, and that the rest was not the effect of design.[88] This opinion found friends at first in Spain. The General of the Franciscans undertook to explode it. He assured Philip that he had seen the King and the Queen-mother two years before, and had found them already so intent on the massacre that he wondered how anybody could have the courage to detract from their merit by denying it.[89] This view generally prevailed in Spain. Mendoça knows not which to admire more, the loyal and Catholic inhabitants of Paris, or Charles, who justified his title of the most Christian King by helping with his own hands to slaughter his subjects.[90] Mariana witnessed the carnage, and imagined that it must gladden every Catholic heart. Other Spaniards were gratified to think that it had been contrived with Alva at Bayonne.

Alva himself did not judge the event by the same light as Philip. He also had distrusted the French Government; but he had not feared it during the ascendency of the Huguenots. Their fall appeared to him to strengthen France. In public he rejoiced with the rest. He complimented Charles on his valour and his religion, and claimed his own share of merit. But he warned Philip that things had not changed favourably for Spain, and that the King of France was now a formidable neighbour.[91] For himself, he said, he never would have committed so base a deed.

The seven Catholic Cantons had their own reason for congratulation. Their countrymen had been busy actors on the scene; and three soldiers of the Swiss guard of Anjou were named as the slayers of the Admiral.[92] On the 2nd of October they agreed to raise 6000 men for the King's service. At the following Diet they demanded the expulsion of the fugitive Huguenots who had taken refuge in the Protestant parts of the Confederation. They made overtures to the Pope for a secret alliance against their Confederates.[93]

In Italy, where the life of a heretic was cheap, their wholesale destruction was confessed a highly politic and ingenious act. Even the sage Venetians were constrained to celebrate it with a procession. The Grand Duke Cosmo had pointed out two years before that an insidious peace would afford excellent opportunities of extinguishing Protestantism; and he derived inexpressible consolation from the heroic enterprise.[94] The Viceroy of Naples, Cardinal Granvelle, received the tidings coldly. He was surprised that the event had been so long postponed, and he reproved the Cardinal of Lorraine for the unstatesmanlike delay.[95] The Italians generally were excited to warmer feelings. They saw nothing to regret but the death of certain Catholics who had been sacrificed to private revenge. Profane men approved the skill with which the trap was laid; and pious men acknowledged the presence of a genuine religious spirit in the French court.[96] The nobles and the Parisian populace were admired for their valour in obeying the sanctified commands of the good King. One fervent enthusiast praises God for the heavenly news, and also St. Bartholomew for having lent his extremely penetrating knife for the salutary sacrifice.[97] A month after the event the renowned preacher Panigarola delivered from the pulpit a panegyric on the monarch who had achieved what none had ever heard or read before, by banishing heresy in a single day, and by a single word, from the Christian land of France.[98]

The French churches had often resounded with furious declamations; and they afterwards rang with canticles of unholy joy. But the French clergy does not figure prominently in the inception or the execution of the sanguinary decree. Conti, a contemporary indeed, but too distant for accurate knowledge, relates that the parish priest went round, marking with a white cross the dwellings of the people who were doomed.[99] He is contradicted by the municipal Registers of Paris.[100] Morvilliers, Bishop of Orleans, though he had resigned the seals which he received from L'Hôpital, still occupied the first place at the royal council. He was consulted at the last moment, and it is said that he nearly fainted with horror. He recovered, and gave his opinion with the rest. He is the only French prelate, except the cardinals, whose complicity appears to be ascertained. But at Orleans, where the bloodshed was more dreadful in proportion than at Paris, the signal is said to have been given, not by the bishop, but by the King's preacher, Sorbin.

Sorbin is the only priest of the capital who is distinctly associated with the act of the Government. It was his opinion that God has ordained that no mercy shall be shown to heretics, that Charles was bound in conscience to do what he did, and that leniency would have been as censurable in his case as precipitation was in that of Theodosius. What the Calvinists called perfidy and cruelty seemed to him nothing but generosity and kindness.[101] These were the sentiments of the man from whose hands Charles IX. received the last consolations of his religion. It has been related that he was tortured in his last moments with remorse for the blood he had shed. His spiritual adviser was fitted to dispel such scruples. He tells us that he heard the last confession of the dying King, and that his most grievous sorrow was that he left the work unfinished.[102] In all that bloodstained history there is nothing more tragic than the scene in which the last words preparing the soul for judgment were spoken by such a confessor as Sorbin to such a penitent as Charles.

Edmond Auger, one of the most able and eloquent of the Jesuits, was at that time attracting multitudes by his sermons at Bordeaux. He denounced with so much violence the heretics and the people in authority who protected them, that the magistrates, fearing a cry for blood, proposed to silence or to moderate the preacher. Montpezat, Lieutenant of Guienne, arrived in time to prevent it. On the 30th of September he wrote to the King that he had done this, and that there were a score of the inhabitants who might be despatched with advantage. Three days later, when he was gone, more than two hundred Huguenots were murdered.[103]

Apart from these two instances it is not known that the clergy interfered in any part of France to encourage the assassins.

The belief was common at the time, and is not yet extinct, that the massacre had been promoted and sanctioned by the Court of Rome. No evidence of this complicity, prior to the event, has ever been produced; but it seemed consistent with what was supposed to have occurred in the affair of the dispensation. The marriage of Margaret of Valois with the King of Navarre was invalid and illicit in the eyes of the Church; and it was known that Pius V. had sworn that he would never permit it. When it had been celebrated by a Cardinal, in the presence of a splendid court, and no more was heard of resistance on the part of Rome, the world concluded that the dispensation had been obtained. De Thou says, in a manuscript note, that it had been sent, and was afterwards suppressed by Salviati; and the French bishop, Spondanus, assigns the reasons which induced Gregory XIII. to give way.[104] Others affirmed that he had yielded when he learned that the marriage was a snare, so that the massacre was the price of the dispensation.[105] The Cardinal of Lorraine gave currency to the story. As he caused it to be understood that he had been in the secret, it seemed probable that he had told the Pope; for they had been old friends.[106] In the commemorative inscription which he put up in the Church of St. Lewis he spoke of the King's gratitude to the Holy See for its assistance and for its advice in the matter--"consiliorum ad eam rem datorum." It is probable that he inspired the narrative which has contributed most to sustain the imputation.

Among the Italians of the French faction who made it their duty to glorify the act of Charles IX., the Capilupi family was conspicuous. They came from Mantua, and appear to have been connected with the French interest through Lewis Gonzaga, who had become by marriage Duke of Nevers, and one of the foremost personages in France. Hippolyto Capilupi, Bishop of Fano, and formerly Nuncio at Venice, resided at Rome, busy with French politics and Latin poetry. When Charles refused to join the League, the Bishop of Fano vindicated his neutrality in a letter to the Duke of Urbino.[107] When he slew the Huguenots, the Bishop addressed him in verse,--

Fortunate puer, paret cui Gallica tellus, Quique vafros ludis pervigil arte viros, Ille tibi debet, toti qui praesidet Orbi, Cui nihil est cordi religione prius....

Qui tibi saepe dolos struxit, qui vincla paravit, Tu puer in laqueos induis arte senem....

Nunc florent, tolluntque caput tua lilia, et astris Clarius hostili tincta cruore micant.[108]

Camillo Capilupi, a nephew of the Mantuan bard, held office about the person of the Pope, and was employed on missions of consequence.[109] As soon as the news from Paris reached Rome he drew up the account which became so famous under the title of Lo Stratagemma di Carlo IX. The dedication is dated the 18th of September 1572.[110] This tract was suppressed, and was soon so rare that its existence was unknown in 1574 to the French translator of the second edition. Capilupi republished his book with alterations, and a preface dated the 22nd of October. The substance and purpose of the two editions is the same. Capilupi is not the official organ of the Roman court: he was not allowed to see the letters of the Nuncio. He wrote to proclaim the praises of the King of France and the Duke of Nevers. At that moment the French party in Rome was divided by the quarrel between the ambassador Ferralz and the Cardinal of Lorraine, who had contrived to get the management of French affairs into his own hands.[111] Capilupi was on the side of the Cardinal, and received information from those who were about him. The chief anxiety of these men was that the official version which attributed the massacre to a Huguenot conspiracy should obtain no credence at Rome. If the Cardinal's enemies were overthrown without his participation, it would confirm the report that he had become a cipher in the State. He desired to vindicate for himself and his family the authorship of the catastrophe. Catherine could not tolerate their claim to a merit which she had made her own; and there was competition between them for the first and largest share in the gratitude of the Holy See. Lorraine prevailed with the Pope, who not only loaded him with honours, but rewarded him with benefices worth 4000 crowns a year for his nephew, and a gift of 20,000 crowns for his son. But he found that he had fallen into disgrace at Paris, and feared for his position at Rome.[112] In these circumstances Capilupi's book appeared, and enumerated a series of facts proving that the Cardinal was cognisant of the royal design. It adds little to the evidence of premeditation. Capilupi relates that Santa Croce, returning from France, had assured Pius V., in the name of Catherine, that she intended one day to entrap Coligny, and to make a signal butchery of him and his adherents, and that letters in which the Queen renewed this promise to the Pope had been read by credible witnesses. Santa Croce was living, and did not contradict the statement. The Stratagemma had originally stated that Lorraine had informed Sermoneta of the project soon after he arrived at Rome. In the reprint this passage was omitted. The book had, therefore, undergone a censorial revision, which enhances the authenticity of the final narrative.

Two other pieces are extant, which were printed at the Stamperia Camerale, and show what was believed at Rome. One is in the shape of a letter written at Lyons in the midst of scenes of death, and describing what the author had witnessed on the spot, and what he heard from Paris.[113] He reports that the King had positively commanded that not one Huguenot should escape, and was overjoyed at the accomplishment of his orders. He believes the thing to have been premeditated, and inspired by Divine justice. The other tract is remarkable because it strives to reconcile the pretended conspiracy with the hypothesis of premeditation.[114] There were two plots which went parallel for months. The King knew that Coligny was compassing his death, and deceived him by feigning to enter into his plan for the invasion of the Low Countries; and Coligny, allowing himself to be overreached, summoned his friends to Paris, for the purpose of killing Charles, on the 23rd of August. The writer expects that there will soon be no Huguenots in France. Capilupi at first borrowed several of his facts, which he afterwards corrected.

The real particulars relative to the marriage are set forth minutely in the correspondence of Ferralz; and they absolutely contradict the supposition of the complicity of Rome.[115] It was celebrated in flagrant defiance of the Pope, who persisted in refusing the dispensation, and therefore acted in a way which could only serve to mar the plot. The accusation has been kept alive by his conduct after the event. The Jesuit who wrote his life by desire of his son, says that Gregory thanked God in private, but that in public he gave signs of a tempered joy.[116] But the illuminations and processions, the singing of Te Deum and the firing of the castle guns, the jubilee, the medal, and the paintings whose faded colours still vividly preserve to our age the passions of that day, nearly exhaust the modes by which a Pope could manifest delight.

Charles IX. and Salviati both wrote to Rome on St. Bartholomew's Day; and the ambassador's nephew, Beauville, set off with the tidings. They were known before he arrived. On the 27th, Mandelot's secretary despatched a secret messenger from Lyons with orders to inform the Pope that the Huguenot leaders were slain, and that their adherents were to be secured all over France. The messenger reached Rome on the 2nd of September, and was immediately carried to the Pope by the Cardinal of Lorraine. Gregory rewarded him for the welcome intelligence with a present of a hundred crowns, and desired that Rome should be at once illuminated. This was prevented by Ferralz, who tried the patience of the Romans by declining their congratulations as long as he was not officially informed.[117] Beauville and the courier of the Nuncio arrived on the 5th. The King's letter, like all that he wrote on the first day, ascribed the outbreak to the old hatred between the rival Houses, and to the late attempt on the Admiral's life. He expressed a hope that the dispensation would not now be withheld, but left all particulars to Beauville, whose own eyes had beheld the scene.[118] Beauville told his story, and repeated the King's request; but Gregory, though much gratified with what he heard, remained inflexible.[119]

Salviati had written on the afternoon of the 24th. He desired to fling himself at the Pope's feet to wish him joy. His fondest hopes had been surpassed. Although he had known what was in store for Coligny, he had not expected that there would be energy and prudence to seize the occasion for the destruction of the rest. A new era had commenced; a new compass was required for French affairs. It was a fair sight to see the Catholics in the streets wearing white crosses, and cutting down heretics; and it was thought that, as fast as the news spread, the same thing would be done in all the towns of France.[120] This letter was read before the assembled Cardinals at the Venetian palace, and they thereupon attended the Pope to a Te Deum in the nearest church.[121] The guns of St. Angelo were fired in the evening, and the city was illuminated for three nights. To disregard the Pope's will in this respect would have savoured of heresy. Gregory XIII. exclaimed that the massacre was more agreeable to him than fifty victories of Lepanto. For some weeks the news from the French provinces sustained the rapture and excitement of the Court.[122] It was hoped that other countries would follow the example of France; the Emperor was informed that something of the same kind was expected of him.[123] On the 8th of September the Pope went in procession to the French Church of St. Lewis, where three-and-thirty Cardinals attended at a mass of thanksgiving. On the 11th he proclaimed a jubilee. In the Bull he said that forasmuch as God had armed the King of France to inflict vengeance on the heretics for the injuries done to religion, and to punish the leaders of the rebellion which had devastated his kingdom, Catholics should pray that he might have grace to pursue his auspicious enterprise to the end, and so complete what he had begun so well.[124] Before a month had passed Vasari was summoned from Florence to decorate the hall of kings with paintings of the massacre.[125] The work was pronounced his masterpiece; and the shameful scene may still be traced upon the wall, where, for three centuries, it has insulted every pontiff that entered the Sixtine Chapel.

The story that the Huguenots had perished because they were detected plotting the King's death was known at Rome on the 6th of September. While the sham edict and the imaginary trial served to confirm it in the eyes of Europe, Catherine and her son took care that it should not deceive the Pope. They assured him that they meant to disregard the edict. To excuse his sister's marriage, the King pleaded that it had been concluded for no object but vengeance; and he promised that there would soon be not a heretic in the country.[126] This was corroborated by Salviati. As to the proclaimed toleration, he knew that it was a device to disarm foreign enmity, and prevent a popular commotion. He testified that the Queen spoke truly when she said that she had confided to him, long before, the real purpose of her daughter's engagement.[127] He exposed the hollow pretence of the plot. He announced that its existence would be established by formalities of law, but added that it was so notoriously false that none but an idiot could believe in it.[128] Gregory gave no countenance to the official falsehood. At the reception of the French ambassador, Rambouillet, on the 23rd of December, Muretus made his famous speech. He said that there could not have been a happier beginning for a new pontificate, and alluded to the fabulous plot in the tone exacted of French officials. The Secretary, Boccapaduli, replying in behalf of the Pope, thanked the King for destroying the enemies of Christ; but strictly avoided the conventional fable.[129]

Cardinal Orsini went as Legate to France. He had been appointed in August, and he was to try to turn the King's course into that line of policy from which he had strayed under Protestant guidance. He had not left Rome when the events occurred which altered the whole situation. Orsini was now charged with felicitations, and was to urge Charles not to stop half-way.[130] An ancient and obsolete ceremonial was suddenly revived; and the Cardinals accompanied him to the Flaminian gate.[131] This journey of Orsini, and the pomp with which it was surrounded, were exceedingly unwelcome at Paris. It was likely to be taken as proof of that secret understanding with Rome which threatened to rend the delicate web in which Charles was striving to hold the confidence of the Protestant world.[132] He requested that the Legate might be recalled; and the Pope was willing that there should be some delay. While Orsini tarried on his way, Gregory's reply to the announcement of the massacre arrived at Paris. It was a great consolation to himself, he said, and an extraordinary grace vouchsafed to Christendom. But he desired, for the glory of God and the good of France, that the Huguenots should be extirpated utterly; and with that view he demanded the revocation of the edict. When Catherine knew that the Pope was not yet satisfied, and sought to direct the actions of the King, she could hardly restrain her rage. Salviati had never seen her so furious. The words had hardly passed his lips when she exclaimed that she wondered at such designs, and was resolved to tolerate no interference in the government of the kingdom. She and her son were Catholics from conviction, and not through fear or influence. Let the Pope content himself with that.[133] The Nuncio had at once foreseen that the court, after crushing the Huguenots, would not become more amenable to the counsels of Rome. He wrote, on the very day of St. Bartholomew, that the King would be very jealous of his authority, and would exact obedience from both sides alike.

At this untoward juncture Orsini appeared at Court. To Charles, who had done so much, it seemed unreasonable that he should be asked for more. He represented to Orsini that it was impossible to eradicate all the remnants of a faction which had been so strong. He had put seventy thousand Huguenots to the sword; and, if he had shown compassion to the rest, it was in order that they might become good Catholics.[134]

The hidden thoughts which the Court of Rome betrayed by its conduct on this memorable occasion have brought upon the Pope himself an amount of hatred greater than he deserved. Gregory XIII. appears as a pale figure between the two strongest of the modern Popes, without the intense zeal of the one and the ruthless volition of the other. He was not prone to large conceptions or violent resolutions. He had been converted late in life to the spirit of the Tridentine Reformation; and when he showed rigour it was thought to be not in his character, but in the counsels of those who influenced him.[135] He did not instigate the crime, nor the atrocious sentiments that hailed it. In the religious struggle a frenzy had been kindled which made weakness violent, and turned good men into prodigies of ferocity; and at Rome, where every loss inflicted on Catholicism and every wound was felt, the belief that, in dealing with heretics, murder is better than toleration prevailed for half a century. The predecessor of Gregory had been Inquisitor-General. In his eyes Protestants were worse than Pagans, and Lutherans more dangerous than other Protestants.[136] The Capuchin preacher, Pistoja, bore witness that men were hanged and quartered almost daily at Rome;[137] and Pius declared that he would release a culprit guilty of a hundred murders rather than one obstinate heretic.[138] He seriously contemplated razing the town of Faenza because it was infested with religious error, and he recommended a similar expedient to the King of France.[139] He adjured him to hold no intercourse with the Huguenots, to make no terms with them, and not to observe the terms he had made. He required that they should be pursued to the death, that not one should be spared under any pretence, that all prisoners should suffer death.[140] He threatened Charles with the punishment of Saul when he forebore to exterminate the Amalekites.[141] He told him that it was his mission to avenge the injuries of the Lord, and that nothing is more cruel than mercy to the impious.[142] When he sanctioned the murder of Elizabeth he proposed that it should be done in execution of his sentence against her.[143] It became usual with those who meditated assassination or regicide on the plea of religion to look upon the representatives of Rome as their natural advisers. On the 21st of January 1591, a young Capuchin came, by permission of his superiors, to Sega, Bishop of Piacenza, then Nuncio at Paris. He said that he was inflamed with the desire of a martyr's death; and having been assured by divines that it would be meritorious to kill that heretic and tyrant, Henry of Navarre, he asked to be dispensed from the rule of his Order while he prepared his measures and watched his opportunity. The Nuncio would not do this without authority from Rome; but the prudence, courage, and humility which he discerned in the friar made him believe that the design was really inspired from above. To make this certain, and to remove all scruples, he submitted the matter to the Pope, and asked his blessing upon it, promising that whatever he decided should be executed with all discretion.[144]

The same ideas pervaded the Sacred College under Gregory. There are letters of profuse congratulation by the Cardinals of Lorraine, Este, and Pellevé. Bourbon was an accomplice before the fact. Granvelle condemned not the act but the delay. Delfino and Santorio approved. The Cardinal of Alessandria had refused the King's gift at Blois, and had opposed his wishes at the conclave. Circumstances were now so much altered that the ring was offered to him again, and this time it was accepted.[145] The one dissentient from the chorus of applause is said to have been Montalto. His conduct when he became Pope makes it very improbable; and there is no good authority for the story. But Leti has it, who is so far from a panegyrist that it deserves mention.

The theory which was framed to justify these practices has done more than plots and massacres to cast discredit on the Catholics. This theory was as follows: Confirmed heretics must be rigorously punished whenever it can be done without the probability of greater evil to religion. Where that is feared, the penalty may be suspended or delayed for a season, provided it be inflicted whenever the danger is past.[146] Treaties made with heretics, and promises given to them must not be kept, because sinful promises do not bind, and no agreement is lawful which may injure religion or ecclesiastical authority. No civil power may enter into engagements which impede the free scope of the Church's law.[147] It is part of the punishment of heretics that faith shall not be kept with them.[148] It is even mercy to kill them that they may sin no more.[149]

Such were the precepts and the examples by which the French Catholics learned to confound piety and ferocity, and were made ready to immolate their countrymen. During the civil war an association was formed in the South for the purpose of making war upon the Huguenots; and it was fortified by Pius V. with blessings and indulgences. "We doubt not," it proclaimed, "that we shall be victorious over these enemies of God and of all humankind; and if we fall, our blood will be as a second baptism, by which, without impediment, we shall join the other martyrs straightway in heaven."[150] Monluc, who told Alva at Bayonne that he had never spared an enemy, was shot through the face at the siege of Rabasteins. Whilst he believed that he was dying, they came to tell him that the place was taken. "Thank God!" he said, "that I have lived long enough to behold our victory; and now I care not for death. Go back, I beseech you, and give me a last proof of friendship, by seeing that not one man of the garrison escapes alive."[151] When Alva had defeated and captured Genlis, and expected to make many more Huguenot prisoners in the garrison of Mons, Charles IX. wrote to Mondoucet "that it would be for the service of God, and of the King of Spain, that they should die. If the Duke of Alva answers that this is a tacit request to have all the prisoners cut to pieces, you will tell him that that is what he must do, and that he will injure both himself and all Christendom if he fails to do it."[152] This request also reached Alva through Spain. Philip wrote on the margin of the despatch that, if he had not yet put them out of the world, he must do so immediately, as there could be no reason for delay.[153] The same thought occurred to others. On the 22nd of July Salviati writes that it would be a serious blow to the faction if Alva would kill his prisoners; and Granvelle wrote that, as they were all Huguenots, it would be well to throw them all into the river.[154]

Where these sentiments prevailed, Gregory XIII. was not alone in deploring that the work had been but half done. After the first explosion of gratified surprise men perceived that the thing was a failure, and began to call for more. The clergy of Rouen Cathedral instituted a procession of thanksgiving, and prayed that the King might continue what he had so virtuously begun, until all France should profess one faith.[155] There are signs that Charles was tempted at one moment, during the month of October, to follow up the blow.[156] But he died without pursuing the design; and the hopes were turned to his successor. When Henry III. passed through Italy on his way to assume the crown, there were some who hoped that the Pope would induce him to set resolutely about the extinction of the Huguenots. A petition was addressed to Gregory for this purpose, in which the writer says that hitherto the French court has erred on the side of mercy, but that the new king might make good the error if rejecting that pernicious maxim that noble blood spilt weakens a kingdom, he would appoint an execution which would be cruel only in appearance, but in reality glorious and holy, and destroy the heretics totally, sparing neither life nor property.[157] Similar exhortations were addressed from Rome to Henry himself by Muzio, a layman who had gained repute, among other things, by controversial writings, of which Pius V. said that they had preserved the faith in whole districts, and who had been charged with the task of refuting the Centuriators. On the 17th of July 1574, Muzio wrote to the King that all Italy waited in reliance on his justice and valour, and besought him to spare neither old nor young, and to regard neither rank nor ties of blood.[158] These hopes also were doomed to disappointment; and a Frenchman, writing in the year of Henry's death, laments over the cruel clemency and inhuman mercy that reigned on St. Bartholomew's Day.[159]

This was not the general opinion of the Catholic world. In Spain and Italy, where hearts were hardened and consciences corrupted by the Inquisition; in Switzerland, where the Catholics lived in suspicion and dread of their Protestant neighbours; among ecclesiastical princes in Germany, whose authority waned as fast as their subjects abjured their faith, the massacre was welcomed as an act of Christian fortitude. But in France itself the great mass of the people was struck with consternation.[160] "Which maner of proceedings," writes Walsingham on the 13th of September, "is by the Catholiques themselves utterly condemned, who desire to depart hence out of this country, to quit themselves of this strange kind of government, for that they see here none can assure themselves of either goods or life." Even in places still steeped in mourning for the atrocities suffered at the hands of Huguenots during the civil war, at Nîmes, for instance, the King's orders produced no act of vengeance. At Carcassonne, the ancient seat of the Inquisition, the Catholics concealed the Protestants in their houses.[161] In Provence, the news from Lyons and the corpses that came down in the poisoned waters of the Rhone awakened nothing but horror and compassion.[162] Sir Thomas Smith wrote to Walsingham that in England "the minds of the most number are much alienated from that nation, even of the very Papists."[163] At Rome itself Zuñiga pronounced the treachery of which the French were boasting unjustifiable, even in the case of heretics and rebels;[164] and it was felt as an outrage to public opinion when the murderer of Coligny was presented to the Pope.[165] The Emperor was filled with grief and indignation. He said that the King and Queen-mother would live to learn that nothing could have been more iniquitously contrived or executed: his uncle Charles V., and his father Ferdinand, had made war on the Protestants, but they had never been guilty of so cruel an act.[166] At that moment Maximilian was seeking the crown of Poland for his son; and the events in France were a weapon in his hands against his rival, Anjou. Even the Czar of Muscovy, Ivan the Terrible, replying to his letters, protested that all Christian princes must lament the barbarous and needless shedding of so much innocent blood. It was not the rivalry of the moment that animated Maximilian. His whole life proves him to have been an enemy of violence and cruelty; and his celebrated letter to Schwendi, written long after, shows that his judgment remained unchanged. It was the Catholic Emperor who roused the Lutheran Elector of Saxony to something like resentment of the butchery in France.[167]

For the Lutherans were not disposed to recognise the victims of Charles IX. as martyrs for the Protestant cause. During the wars of religion Lutheran auxiliaries were led by a Saxon prince, a margrave of Baden, and other German magnates, to aid the Catholic forces in putting down the heresy of Calvin. These feelings were so well known that the French Government demanded of the Duke of Wirtemberg the surrender of the Huguenots who had fled into his dominions.[168] Lutheran divines flattered themselves at first with the belief that it was the Calvinistic error, not the Protestant truth, that had invited and received the blow.[169] The most influential of them, Andreæ, declared that the Huguenots were not martyrs but rebels, who had died not for religion but sedition; and he bade the princes beware of the contagion of their spirit, which had deluged other lands with blood. When Elizabeth proposed a league for the defence of Protestantism, the North German divines protested against an alliance with men whose crime was not only religious error but blasphemous obstinacy, the root of many dreadful heresies. The very proposal, they said, argued a disposition to prefer human succour rather than the word of God.[170] When another invitation came from Henry of Navarre, the famous divine Chemnitz declared union with the disciples of Calvin a useless abomination.[171]

The very men whose own brethren had perished in France were not hearty or unanimous in execrating the deed.[172] There were Huguenots who thought that their party had brought ruin on itself, by provoking its enemies, and following the rash counsels of ambitious men.[173] This was the opinion of their chief, Theodore Beza, himself. Six weeks before, he wrote that they were gaining in numbers but losing in quality, and he feared lest, after destroying superstition, they should destroy religion: "Valde metuo ne superstitioni successerit impietas."[174] And afterwards he declared that nobody who had known the state of the French Protestants could deny that it was a most just judgment upon them.[175]

Beza held very stringent doctrines touching the duty of the civil magistrate to repress religious error. He thought that heresy is worse than murder, and that the good of society requires no crime to be more severely punished.[176] He declared toleration contrary to revealed religion and the constant tradition of the Church, and taught that lawful authority must be obeyed, even by those whom it persecutes. He expressly recognised this function in Catholic States, and urged Sigismund not to rest until he had got rid of the Socinians in Poland;[177] but he could not prevail against the vehement resistance of Cardinal Hosius. It was embarrassing to limit these principles when they were applied against his own Church. For a moment Beza doubted whether it had not received its death-blow in France. But he did not qualify the propositions which were open to be interpreted so fatally,[178] or deny that his people, by their vices, if not by their errors, had deserved what they had suffered.

The applause which greeted their fate came not from the Catholics generally, nor from the Catholics alone. While the Protestants were ready to palliate or excuse it, the majority of the Catholics who were not under the direct influence of Madrid or Rome recognised the inexpiable horror of the crime. But the desire to defend what the Pope approved survived sporadically, when the old fierceness of dogmatic hatred was extinct. A generation passed without any perceptible change in the judgment of Rome. It was a common charge against De Thou that he had condemned the blameless act of Charles IX. The blasphemies of the Huguenots, said one of his critics, were more abominable than their retribution.[179] His History was put on the Index; and Cardinal Barberini let him know that he was condemned because he not only favoured Protestants to the detriment of Catholics, but had even disapproved the Massacre of St. Bartholomew.[180] Eudæmon-Johannes, the friend of Bellarmine, pronounces it a pious and charitable act, which immortalised its author.[181] Another Jesuit, Bompiani, says that it was grateful to Gregory, because it was likely to relieve the Church.[182] The well-known apology for Charles IX. by Naudé is based rather on political than religious grounds; but his contemporary Guyon, whose History of Orleans is pronounced by the censors full of sound doctrine and pious sentiment, deems it unworthy of Catholics to speak of the murder of heretics as if it were a crime, because, when done under lawful authority, it is a blessed thing.[183] When Innocent XI. refused to approve the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, Frenchmen wondered that he should so far depart from the example which was kept before him by one of the most conspicuous ornaments of his palace.[184] The old spirit was decaying fast in France, and the superb indignation of Bossuet fairly expresses the general opinion of his time. Two works were published on the medals of the Popes, by a French and an Italian writer. The Frenchman awkwardly palliates the conduct of Gregory XIII.; the Italian heartily defends it.[185] In Italy it was still dangerous ground. Muratori shrinks from pronouncing on the question,[186] while Cienfuegos, a Jesuit whom his Order esteemed one of the most distinguished Cardinals of the day, judges that Charles IX. died too soon for his fame.[187] Tempesti, who lived under the enlightened rule of Benedict XIV., accuses Catherine of having arrested the slaughter, in order that some cause should remain to create a demand for her counsels.[188] The German Jesuit Biner and the Papal historian Piatti, just a century ago, are among the last downright apologists.[189]

Then there was a change. A time came when the Catholics, having long relied on force, were compelled to appeal to opinion. That which had been defiantly acknowledged and defended required to be ingeniously explained away. The same motive which had justified the murder now prompted the lie. Men shrank from the conviction that the rulers and restorers of their Church had been murderers and abetters of murder, and that so much infamy had been coupled with so much zeal. They feared to say that the most monstrous of crimes had been solemnly approved at Rome, lest they should devote the Papacy to the execration of mankind. A swarm of facts were invented to meet the difficulty: The victims were insignificant in number; they were slain for no reason connected with religion; the Pope believed in the existence of the plot; the plot was a reality; the medal is fictitious; the massacre was a feint concerted with the Protestants themselves; the Pope rejoiced only when he heard that it was over.[190] These things were repeated so often that they have been sometimes believed; and men have fallen into this way of speaking whose sincerity was unimpeachable, and who were not shaken in their religion by the errors or the vices of Popes. Möhler was pre-eminently such a man. In his lectures on the history of the Church, which were published only last year,[191] he said that the Catholics, as such, took no part in the massacre; that no cardinal, bishop, or priest shared in the councils that prepared it; that Charles informed the Pope that a conspiracy had been discovered; and that Gregory made his thanksgiving only because the King's life was saved.[192] Such things will cease to be written when men perceive that truth is the only merit that gives dignity and worth to history.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 6: North British Review, Oct. 1869.]

[Footnote 7: Satius fore ducebam, si minus profligari possent omnes, ut ferrentur omnes, quo mordentes et comedentes invicem, consumerentur ab invicem (Hosius to Karnkowsky, Feb. 26, 1568).]

[Footnote 8: The Secretary of Medina Celi to Çayas, June 24, 1572 (Correspondance de Philippe II., ii. 264).]

[Footnote 9: Quant à ce qui me touche à moy en particulier, encores que j'ayme unicquement tous mes enffans, je veulx préférer, comme il est bien raysonnable, les filz aux filles; et pour le regard de ce que me mandez de celluy qui a faict mourir ma fille, c'est chose que l'on ne tient point pour certaine, et où elle le seroit, le roy monsieur mondit filz n'en pouvoit faire la vengence en l'estat que son royaulme estoit lors; mais à présent qu'il est tout uni, il aura assez de moien et de forces pour sen ressentir quant l'occasion s'en présentera (Catherine to Du Ferrier, Oct. 1, 1572; Bib. Imp. F. Fr. 15,555). The despatches of Fourquevaulx from Madrid, published by the Marquis Du Prat in the Histoire d' Elisabeth de Valois, do not confirm the rumour.]

[Footnote 10: Toutes mes fantaisies sont bandées pour m'opposer à la grandeur des Espagnols, et délibère m'y conduire le plus dextrement qu'il me sera possible (Charles IX. to Noailles, May 2, 1572; Noailles, Henri de Valois, i. 8).]

[Footnote 11: Il fault, et je vous prie ne faillir, quand bien il seroit du tout rompu, et que verriés qu'il n'y auroit nulle espérance, de trouver moyen d'en entrettenir toujours doucement le propos, d'ici à quelque temps; car cella ne peut que bien servir à establir mes affaires et aussy pour ma réputation (Charles IX. to La Mothe, Aug. 9, 1572; Corr. de La Mothe, vii. 311).]

[Footnote 12: This is stated both by his mother and by the Cardinal of Lorraine (Michelet, La Ligue, p. 26).]

[Footnote 13: In reliqua Gallia fuit et est incredibilis defectio, quae tamen usque adeo non pacavit immanes illas feras, ut etiam eos qui defecerunt (qui pene sunt innumerabiles) semel ad internecionem una cum integris familiis trucidare prorsus decreverint (Beza, Dec. 3, 1572; Ill. vir. Epp. Sel., p. 621, 1617).]

[Footnote 14: Languet to the Duke of Saxony, Nov. 30, 1572 (Arcana, sec. xvi. 183).]

[Footnote 15: Vidi et cum dolore intellexi lanienam illam Gallicam perfidissimam et atrocissimam plurimos per Germaniam ita offendisse, ut jam etiam de veritate nostrae Religionis et doctrinae dubitare incoeperint (Bullinger to Wittgenstein, Feb. 23, 1573; Friedländer, Beiträge zur rel. Gesch., p. 254).]

[Footnote 16: De Thou, Mémoires, p. 9.]

[Footnote 17: Il me dist qu'on luy avoist escript de Rome, n'avoit que trois semaines ou environ, sur le propos des noces du roy de Navarre en ces propres termes; Que à ceste heure que tous les oiseaux estoient en cage, on les pouvoit prendre tous ensemble (Vulcob to Charles IX., Sept. 26, 1572; Noailles, iii. 214).]

[Footnote 18: Mémoires de Duplessis-Mornay, i. 38; Ambert, Duplessis-Mornay, p. 38.]

[Footnote 19: Digges, Compleat Ambassador, pp. 276, 255.]

[Footnote 20: Correr, Relazione; Tommaseo, ii. 116.]

[Footnote 21: He said to Catherine: Que quando quisiesen usar de otro y averlo, con no mas personas que con cinc o seys que son el cabo de todo esto, los tomasen a su mano y les cortasen las cabeças (Alva to Philip II., June 21, 1565; Papiers de Granvelle, ix. 298).]

[Footnote 22: Ci rallegriamo con la maestà sua con tutto l' affetto dell' animo, ch' ella habbia presa quella risolutione cosi opportunamente sopra la quale noi stesso l' ultima volta che fummo in Francia parlammo con la Regina Madre.... Dipoi per diversi gentilhuomini che in varie occorrenze habbiamo mandato in corte siamo instati nel suddetto ricordo (Alfonso II. to Fogliani, Sept. 13, 1572; Modena Archives).]

[Footnote 23: Muchas vezes me ha accordado de aver dicho a Su Mag. esto mismo en Bayona, y de lo que mi offrecio, y veo que ha muy bien desempeñado su palabra (Alva to Zuñiga, Sept. 9, 1572; Coquerel, La St. Barthélemy, p. 12).]

[Footnote 24: Kluckhohn, Zur Geschichte des angeblichen Bündnisses von Bayonne, p. 36, 1868.]

[Footnote 25: Il signor duca di Alva ... mi disse, che come in questo abboccamento negotio alcuno non havevano trattato, ne volevano trattare, altro che della religione, cosi la lor differenza era nata per questo, perchè non vedeva che la regina ci pigliasse risolutione a modo suo ne de altro, che di buone parole ben generali.... È stato risoluto che alla tornata in Parigi si farà una ricerca di quelli che hanno contravenuto all' editto, e si castigaranno; nel che dice S.M. che gli Ugonotti ci sono talmente compresi, che spera con questo mezzo solo cacciare i Ministri di Francia.... Il Signor Duca di Alva si satisfa piu di questa deliberatione di me, perchè io non trovo che serva all' estirpation dell' heresia il castigar quelli che hanno contravenuto all' editto (Santa Croce to Borromeo, Bayonne, July 1, 1565, MS.).]

[Footnote 26: Desjardins, Négociations avec la Toscane, iii. 756, 765, 802.]

[Footnote 27: Io non no fatto intendere cosa alcuna a nessuno principe; ho ben parlato al nunzio solo (Desp. Aug. 31; Desjardins, iii. 828).]

[Footnote 28: Alberi, Relazioni Venete, xii. 250.]

[Footnote 29: Alberi, xii. 328.]

[Footnote 30: Son principal but et dessein estoit de sentir quelle espérance ilz pourroient avoir de parvenir à la paix avec le G.S. dont il s'est ouvert et a demandé ce qu'il en pouvoit espérer et attendre (Charles IX. to Du Ferrier, Sept. 28, 1572; Charrière, Négociations dans le Levant, iii. 310).]

[Footnote 31: Ranke, Französische Geschichte, v. 76.]

[Footnote 32: Digges, p. 258; Cosmi, Memorie di Morosini, p. 26.]

[Footnote 33: Alberi, xii. 294.]

[Footnote 34: Mittit eo Antonium Mariam Salviatum, reginae affinem eique pergratum, qui eam in officio contineat (Cardinal of Vercelli, Comment. de Rebus Gregorii XIII.; Ranke, Päpste, App. 85).]

[Footnote 35: Desp. Aug. 30, 1570.]

[Footnote 36: Oct. 14, 1570.]

[Footnote 37: Sept. 24, 1570.]

[Footnote 38: Nov. 28, 1570.]

[Footnote 39: Quando scrissi ai giorni passati alla S.V. Illma in cifra, che l'ammiraglio s' avanzava troppo et che gli darebbero su l' unge, gia mi ero accorto, che non lo volevano più tollerare, et molto più mi confermai nell' opinione, quando con caratteri ordinarii glie scrivevo che speravo di dover haver occasione di dar qualche buona nova a Sua Beatitudine, benchè mai havrei creduto la x. parte di quello, che al presente veggo con gli occhi (Desp. Aug. 24; Theiner, Annales, i. 329).]

[Footnote 40: Che molti siano stati consapevoli del fatto è necessario, potendogli dizer che a 21 la mattina, essendo col Cardinal di Borbone et M. de Montpensier, viddi che ragionavano si domesticamente di quello che doveva seguire, che in me medesimo restando confuso, conobbi che la prattica andava gagliarda, e piutosto disperai di buon fine che altrimente (same Desp.; Mackintosh, History of England, ii. 355).]

[Footnote 41: Attribuisce a se, et al nipote, et a casa sua, la morte del' ammiraglio, gloriandosene assai (Desp. Oct. 1; Theiner, p. 331). The Emperor told the French ambassador "que, depuis les choses avenues, on lui avoit mandé de Rome que Mr. le Cardinal de Lorraine avoit dit que tout le fait avoit esté délibéré avant qu'il partist de France" (Vulcob to Charles IX., Nov. 8; Groen van Prinsterer, Archives de Nassau, iv. App. 22).]

[Footnote 42: Marlot, Histoire de Reims, iv. 426. This language excited the surprise of Dale, Walsingham's successor (Mackintosh, iii. 226).]

[Footnote 43: Archives Curieuses, viii. 305.]

[Footnote 44: Egli solo tra tutti gli altri è solito particolarmente di sostenere le nostre fatiche.... Essendo partecipe di tutti i nostri consigli, et consapevole de segreti dell' intimo animo nostro (Pius V. to Philip II., June 20, 1571; Zucchi, Idea del Segretario, i. 544).]

[Footnote 45: Serranus, Commentarii, iv. 14; Davila, ii. 104.]

[Footnote 46: Digges, p. 193.]

[Footnote 47: Finis hujus legationis erat non tam suadere Regi ut foedus cum aliis Christianis principibus iniret (id nempe notum erat impossibile illi regno esse); sed ut rex ille praetermissus non videretur, et revera ut sciretur quo tenderent Gallorum cogitationes. Non longe nempe a Rocella naves quasdam praegrandes instruere et armare coeperat Philippus Strozza praetexens velle ad Indias a Gallis inventas navigare (Relatio gestorum in Legatione Card. Alexandrini MS.).]

[Footnote 48: Con alcuni particulari che io porto, de' quali ragguaglierò N. Signore a bocca, posso dire di non partirmi affatto mal espedito (Ranke, Zeitschrift, iii. 598). Le temps et les effectz luy témoigneront encores d'advantage (Mémoire baillé au légat Alexandrin, Feb. 1572; Bib. Imp. F. Dupuy, 523).]

[Footnote 49: De Sacro Foedere, Graevius Thesaurus, i. 1038.]

[Footnote 50: Catena, Vita di Pio V., p. 197; Gabutius, Vita Pii V., p. 150, and the Dedication.]

[Footnote 51: D'Ossat to Villeroy, Sept. 22, 1599; Lettres, iii. 503. An account of the Legate's journey was found by Mendham among Lord Guildford's manuscripts, and is described in the Supplement to his life of Pius V., p. 13. It is written by the Master of Ceremonies, and possesses no interest. The Relatio already quoted, which corresponds to the description given by Clement VIII. of his own work, is among the manuscripts of the Marquis Capponi, No. 164.]

[Footnote 52: Vuol andar con ogni quiete et dissimulatione, fin che il Rè suo figliolo sia in età (Santa Croce, Desp. June 27, 1563; Lettres du Card. Santa Croce, p. 243).]

[Footnote 53: La Chastre to Charles IX., Jan. 21, 1570; Raynal, Histoire du Berry, iv. 105; Lavallée, Histoire des Français, ii. 478. Both Raynal and Lavallée had access to the original.]

[Footnote 54: Il Papa credeva che la pace fatta, e l'aver consentito il Rè che l'Ammiraglio venisse in corte, fusse con disegno di ammazzarlo; ma accortosi come passa il fatto, non ha creduto che nel Rè Nostro sia quella brava resoluzione (Letter of Nov. 28, 1571; Desjardins, iii. 732). Pour le regard de M. l'Admiral, je n'ay failly de luy faire entendre ce que je devois, suyvant ce qu'il a pleu à V.M. me commander, dont il est demeuré fort satisfaict (Ferralz to Charles IX., Dec. 25, 1571; Bib. Imp. F. Fr. 16,039; Walsingham to Herbert, Oct. 10, 1571; to Smith, Nov. 26, 1572; Digges, p. 290).]

[Footnote 55: Marcel to Charles IX., December 20, 1571; Cabinet Historique, ii. 253.]

[Footnote 56: Le Roy estoit d'intelligence, ayant permis à ceux de la Religion de l'assister, et, cas advenant que leurs entreprises succédassent, qu'il les favoriserait ouvertement ... Genlis, menant un secours dans Mons, fut défait par le duc d'Alve, qui avoit comme investi la ville. La journée de Saint-Barthélemi se résolut (Bouillon, Mémoires, p. 9).]

[Footnote 57: Si potria distruggere il resto, maxime che l'ammiraglio si trova in Parigi, populo Catholico et devoto del suo Rè, dove potria se volesse facilmente levarselo dinnanzi per sempre (Castagna, Desp. Aug. 5, 1572; Theiner, i. 327).]

[Footnote 58: Mémoires de Claude Haton, 687.]

[Footnote 59: En quelque sorte que ce soit ledict Seigneur est résollu faire vivre ses subjectz en sa religion, et ne permettre jamais ny tollérer, quelque chose qui puisse advenir, qu'il n'y ait aultre forme ny exercice de religion en son royaulme que de la catholique (Instruction for the Governors of Normandy, Nov. 3, 1572; La Mothe, vii. 390).]

[Footnote 60: Charles IX. to Mondoucet, Aug. 26, 1572; Compte Rendu de la Commission Royale d' Histoire, 2e Série, iv. 327.]

[Footnote 61: Li Ugonotti si ridussero alla porta del Louvre, per aspettare che Mons. di Guisa e Mons. d'Aumale uscissero per ammazzarli (Borso Trotti, Desp. Aug. 23; Modena Archives).]

[Footnote 62: L'on a commencé à descouvrir la conspiration que ceux de la religion prétendue réformée avoient faicte contre moy mesmes, ma mère et mes frères (Charles IX. to La Mothe, Aug. 25; La Mothe, vii. 325).]

[Footnote 63: Desp. Sept. 19, 1572.]

[Footnote 64: Il ne fault pas attendre d'en avoir d'autre commandement du Roy ne de Monseigneur, car ils ne vous en feront point (Puygaillard to Montsoreau, Aug. 26, 1572; Mourin, La Réforme en Anjou, p. 106).]

[Footnote 65: Vous croirez le présent porteur de ce que je luy ay donné charge de vous dire (Charles IX. to Mandelot, Aug. 24, 1572; Corr. de Charles IX. avec Mandelot, p. 42).]

[Footnote 66: Je n'en ay aucune coulpe, n'ayant sceu quelle estoit la volunté que par umbre, encores bien tard et à demy (Mandelot to Charles IX., Sept. 17, p. 73).]

[Footnote 67: Floquet, Histoire du Parlement de Normandie, iii. 121.]

[Footnote 68: Anjou to Montsoreau, Aug. 26; Mourin, p. 107; Falloux, Vie de Pie V., i. 358; Port, Archives de la Mairie d'Angers, pp. 41, 42.]

[Footnote 69: Schomberg to Brulart, Oct. 10, 1572; Capefigue, La Réforme, iii. 264.]

[Footnote 70: Instructions for Schomberg, Feb. 15, 1573; Noailles, iii. 305.]

[Footnote 71: Monluc to Brulart, Nov. 20, 1572; Jan. 20, 1573: to Charles IX., Jan. 22, 1573; Noailles, iii. 218, 223, 220.]

[Footnote 72: Charles IX. to St. Goard, Jan. 20, 1573; Groen, iv. App. 29.]

[Footnote 73: Letter from Paris in Strype's Life of Parker, iii. 110; "Tocsain contre les Massacreurs," Archives Curieuses, vii. 7.]

[Footnote 74: Afin que ce que vous avez dressé des choses passées à la Saint-Barthélemy ne puisse être publié parmi le peuple, et mêmement entre les étrangers, comme il y en a plusieurs qui se mêlent d'écrire et qui pourraient prendre occasion d'y répondre, je vous prie qu'il n'en soit rien imprimé ni en français ni en Latin, mais si vous en avez retenu quelque chose, le garder vers vous (Charles IX. to the President de Cély, March 24, 1573; Revue Rétrospective, 2 Série. iii. 195).]

[Footnote 75: Botero, Della Ragion di Stato, 92. A contemporary says that the Protestants were cut to pieces out of economy, "pour afin d'éviter le coust des exécutions qu'il eust convenu payer pour les faire pendre"; and that this was done "par permission divine" (Relation des troubles de Rouen par un témoin oculaire, ed. Pottier, 36, 46).]

[Footnote 76: Del resto poco importerebbe a Roma (Card. Montalto to Card. Morosini; Tempesti, Vita di Sisto V., ii. 116).]

[Footnote 77: Quand ce seroit contre touts les Catholiques, que nous ne nous en empescherions, ny altérerions aucunement l'amitié d'entre elle et nous (Catherine to La Mothe, Sept. 13, 1572; La Mothe, vii. 349).]

[Footnote 78: Alva's Report; Bulletins de l'Académie de Bruxelles, ix. 564.]

[Footnote 79: Jean Diodati, door Schotel, 88.]

[Footnote 80: OEuvres de Brantôme, ed. Lalanne, iv. 38.]

[Footnote 81: Otros que salvò el Duque de Nevers con harto vituperio suyo (Cabrera de Cordova, Felipe Segundo, p. 722).]

[Footnote 82: Il Rè Christianissimo in tutti questi accidenti, in luogo di giudicio e di valore ha mostrato animo christiano, con tutto habbia salvato alcuno. Ma li altri principi che fanno gran professione di Cattolici et di meritar favori e gratie del papa hanno poi con estrema diligenza cercato a salvare quelli più di Ugonotti che hanno potuto, e se non gli nomino particolarmente, non si maravigli, per che indiferentemente tutti hanno fatto a un modo (Salviati, Desp. Sept. 2, 1572).]

[Footnote 83: Estque dictu mirum, quantopere Regem exhilaravit nova Gallica (Hopperus to Viglius, Madrid, Sept. 7, 1572; Hopperi Epp. 360).]

[Footnote 84: Ha avuto, con questa occasione, dal Rè di Spagna, sei mila scudi a conto della dote di sua moglie e a richiesta di casa di Guise (Petrucci, Desp. Sept. 16, 1572; Desjardins, iii. 838). On the 27th of December 1574, the Cardinal of Guise asks Philip for more money for the same man (Bouillé, Histoire des Ducs de Guise, ii. 505).]

[Footnote 85: Siendo cosa clara que, de hoy mas, ni los protestantes de Alemania, ni la reyna de Inglaterra se fiaran dél (Philip to Alva, Sept. 18, 1572; Bulletins de Bruxelles, xvi. 255).]

[Footnote 86: St. Goard to Charles IX., Sept. 12, 1572; Groen, iv. App. 12; Raumer, Briefe aus Paris, i. 191.]

[Footnote 87: Archives de l'Empire, K. 1530, B. 34, 299.]

[Footnote 88: Zuñiga to Alva, Aug. 31, 1572: No fue caso pensado sino repentino (Archives de l'Empire, K. 1530, B. 34, 66).]

[Footnote 89: St. Goard to Catherine, Jan. 6, 1573; Groen, iv. App. 28.]

[Footnote 90: Comment. de B. de Mendoça, i. 344.]

[Footnote 91: Alva to Philip, Oct. 13, 1572; Corr. de Philippe II., ii. 287. On the 23rd of August Zuñiga wrote to Philip that he hoped that Coligny would recover from his wound, because, if he should die, Charles would be able to obtain obedience from all men (Archives de l'Empire, K. 1530, B. 34, 65).]

[Footnote 92: Bulletins de la Société pour l'Histoire du Protestantisme Français, viii. 292.]

[Footnote 93: Eidgenössische Abschiede, iv. 2, 501, 503, 506, 510.]

[Footnote 94: Cosmo to Camaiani, Oct. 6, 1570 (Cantù, Gli Eretici d'Italia, iii. 15); Cosmo to Charles IX., Sept. 4, 1572 (Gachard, Rapport sur les Archives de Lille, 199).]

[Footnote 95: Grappin, Mémoire Historique sur le Card. de Granvelle, 73.]

[Footnote 96: Bardi, Età del Mondo, 1581, iv. 2011; Campana, Historie del Mondo, 1599, i. 145; B.D. da Fano, Aggiunte all' Historie di Mambrino Roseo, 1583, v. 252; Pellini, Storia di Perugia, vol. iii. MS.]

[Footnote 97: Si è degnato di prestare alli suoi divoti il suo taglientissimo coltello in cosi salutifero sacrificio (Letter of Aug. 26; Alberi, Vita di Caterina de' Medici, 401).]

[Footnote 98: Labitte, Démocratie chez les Prédicateurs de la Ligue, 10.]

[Footnote 99: Natalis Comes, Historiae sui temporis, 512.]

[Footnote 100: Capefigue, iii. 150.]

[Footnote 101: Pourront-ils arguer de trahison le feu roy, qu'ils blasphèment luy donnant le nom de tyran, veu qu'il n'a rien entrepris et exécuté que ce qu'il pouvoit faire par l'expresse parole de Dieu ... Dieu commande qu'on ne pardonne en façon que ce soit aux inventeurs ou sectateurs de nouvelles opinions ou hérésies.... Ce que vous estimez cruauté estre plutôt vraye magnanimité et doulceur (Sorbin, Le Vray resveille-matin des Calvinistes, 1576, pp. 72, 74, 78).]

[Footnote 102: Il commanda à chacun de se retirer au cabinet et à moy de m'asseoir au chevet de son lict, tant pour ouyr sa confession, et luy donner ministérialement absolution de ses péchez, que aussi pour le consoler durant et après la messe (Sorbin, Vie de Charles IX.; Archives Curieuses, viii. 287). Est très certain que le plus grand regret qu'il avoit à l'heure de sa mort estoit de ce qu'il voyoit l'idole Calvinesque n'estre encores du tout chassée (Vray resveille-matin, 88).]

[Footnote 103: The charge against the clergy of Bordeaux is brought by D'Aubigné (Histoire Universelle, ii. 27) and by De Thou. De Thou was very hostile to the Jesuits, and his language is not positive. D'Aubigné was a furious bigot. The truth of the charge would not be proved, without the letters of the President L'Agebaston and of the Lieutenant Montpezat: "Quelques prescheurs se sont par leurs sermons (ainsi que dernièrement j'ai escript plus amplement à votre majesté) estudié de tout leur pouvoir de troubler ciel et terre, et conciter le peuple à sédition, et en ce faisant à passer par le fil de l'espée tous ceulx de la prétendue religion réformée.... Après avoir des le premier et deuxième de ceste mois fait courrir un bruit sourd que vous, Sire, aviez envoyé nom par nom un rolle signé de votre propre main au Sieur de Montferaud, pour par voie de fait et sans aultre forme de justice, mettre à mort quarante des principaulx de cette ville...." (L'Agebaston to Charles IX., Oct. 7, 1572; Mackintosh, iii. 352). "J'ai trouvé que messieurs de la cour de parlement avoyent arresté que Monsieur Edmond, prescheur, seroit appellé en ladicte court pour luy faire des remonstrances sur quelque langaige qu'il tenoit en ses sermons, tendant à sédition, à ce qu'ils disoyent. Ce que j'ay bien voullu empescher, craignant que s'il y eust esté appellé cella eust animé plusieurs des habitants et estre cause de quelque émotion, ce que j'eusse voluntiers souffert quant j'eusse pansé qu'il n'y en eust qu'une vingtaine de despéchés" (Montpezat to Charles IX., Sept. 30., 1572; Archives de la Gironde, viii. 337).]

[Footnote 104: Annal. Baronii Contin. ii. 734; Bossuet says: "La dispense vint telle qu'on la pouvoit désirer" (Histoire de France, p. 820).]

[Footnote 105: Ormegregny, Réflexions sur la Politique de France, p. 121.]

[Footnote 106: De Thou, iv. 537.]

[Footnote 107: Charrière, iii. 154.]

[Footnote 108: Carmina Ill. Poetarum Italorum, iii. 212, 216.]

[Footnote 109: Tiepolo, Desp. Aug. 6, 1575; Mutinelli, Storia Arcana, i. 111.]

[Footnote 110: Parendomi, che sia cosa, la quale possa apportar piacere, e utile al mondo, si per la qualità del soggetto istesso, come anco per l'eleganza, e bello ordine con che viene cosi leggiadramente descritto questo nobile, e glorioso fatto ... a fine che una cosi egregia attione non resti defraudata dell' honor, che merita (The editor, Gianfrancesco Ferrari, to the reader).]

[Footnote 111: Huc accedit, Oratorem Sermi Regis Galliae, et impulsu inimicorum saepedicti Domini Cardinalis, et quia summopere illi displicuit, quod superioribus mensibus Illma Sua Dominatio operam dedisset, hoc sibi mandari, ut omnia Regis negotia secum communicaret, nullam praetermisisse occasionem ubi ei potuit adversari (Cardinal Delfino to the Emperor, Rome, Nov. 29, 1572; Vienna Archives).]

[Footnote 112: Fà ogni favor et gratia gli addimanda il Cardinale di Lorena, il consiglio del quale usa in tutte le più importanti negotiationi l' occorre di haver a trattar (Cusano to the Emperor, Rome, Sept. 27, 1572).--Conscia igitur Sua Dominatio Illma quorundam arcanorum Regni Galliae, creato Pontifice sibi in Concilio Tridentino cognito et amico, statuit huc se recipere, ut privatis suis rebus consuleret, et quia tunc foederati contra Thurcam, propter suspicionem Regi Catholico injectam de Orangio, et Gallis, non admodum videbantur concordes, et non multo post advenit nuncius mortis Domini de Colligni, et illius asseclarum; Pontifex justa de causa existimavit dictum Illmum Cardinalem favore et gratia sua merito esse complectendum. Evenit postmodum, ut ad Serenissimam Reginam Galliarum deferretur, bonum hunc Dominum jactasse se, quod particeps fuerit consiliorum contra dictum Colligni; id quod illa Serenissima Domina iniquo animo tulit, quae neminem gloriae socium vult habere; sibi enim totam vendicat, quod sola talis facinoris auctor, et Dux extiterit. Idcirco commorationem ipsius Lotharingiae in hac aula improbare, ac reprehendere aggressa est. Haec cum ille Illustrissimus Cardinalis perceperit, oblata sibi occasione utens, exoravit a Sua Sanctitate gratuitam expeditionem quatuor millia scutorum reditus pro suo Nepote, et 20 millia pro filio praeter sollicitationem, quam prae se fert, ut dictus Nepos in Cardinalium numerum cooptetur.... Cum itaque his de causis authoritas hujus Domini in Gallia imminuta videatur, ipseque praevideat, quanto in Gallia minoris aestimabitur, tanto minori etiam loco hic se habitum id, statuit optimo judicio, ac pro eo quod suae existimacioni magis conducit, in Galliam reverti (Delfino, ut supra, both in the Vienna Archives).]

[Footnote 113: Intiera Relatione della Morte dell' Ammiraglio.]

[Footnote 114: Ragguaglio degli ordini et modi tenuti dalla Majesta Christianissima nella distruttione della setta degli Ugonotti Con la morte dell' Ammiraglio, etc.]

[Footnote 115: Bib. Imp. F. Fr. 16, 139.]

[Footnote 116: Maffei, Annali di Gregorio XIII., i. 34.]

[Footnote 117: La nouvelle qui arriva le deuxième jour du présent par ung courrier qui estoit depesché secrétememt de Lyon par ung nommé Danes, secrétaire de M. de Mandelot ... à ung commandeur de Sainct Anthoine, nommé Mr. de Gou, il luy manda qu'il allast advertir le Pape, pour en avoir quelque présant ou bienfaict, de la mort de tous les chefs de ceulx de la religion prétendue refformée, et de tous les Huguenotz de France, et que V.M. avoit mandé et commandé à tous les gouverneurs de se saisir de tous iceulx huguenotz en leurs gouvernemens; ceste nouvelle, Sire, apporta si grand contentement a S.S., que sans ce que je luy remonstray lors me trouvant sur le lieu, en presence de Monseigneur le C1 de Lorraine, qu'elle devoit attendre ce que V.M. m'en manderoit et ce que son nonce luy en escriroit, elle en vouloit incontinent faire des feux de joye.... Et pour ce que je ne voulois faire ledict feu de joye la première nuict que ledit courrier envoyé par ledict Danes feust arrivé, ny en recevoir les congratulations que l'on m'en envoyoit faire, que premièrement je n'eusse eu nouvelles de V.M. pour sçavoir et sa voulanté et comme je m'avoys a conduire, aucuns commençoient desjà de m'en regarder de maulvais oeills (Ferralz to Charles IX., Rome, Sept. 11, 1572; Bib. Imp. F. Fr. 16,040). Al corriero che porto tal nuova Nostro Signore diede 100 Scudi oltre li 200 che hebbe dall' Illustrissimo Lorena, che con grandissima allegrezza se n'ando subito a dar tal nuova per allegrarsene con Sua Santita (Letter from Rome to the Emperor, Sept. 6, 1572; Vienna Archives).]

[Footnote 118: Charles IX. to Ferralz, Aug. 24, 1572; Mackintosh, iii. 348.]

[Footnote 119: Elle fust merveilheusement ayse d'entendre le discours que mondit neueu de Beauville luy en feist. Lequel, après luy avoir conté le susdit affayre, supplia sadicte Saincteté, suyvant la charge expresse qu'il avoit de V.M. de vouloir concéder, pour le fruict de ceste allegresse, la dispense du mariage du roy et royne de Navarre, datée de quelques jours avant que les nopces en feussent faictes, ensemble l'absolution pour Messeigneurs les Cardinaux de Bourbon et de Ramboilhet, et pour tous les aultres evesques et prélatz qui y avoient assisté.... Il nous feit pour fin response qu'il y adviseroit (Ferralz, ut supra).]

[Footnote 120: Pensasi che per tutte le citta di Francia debba seguire il simile, subitoche arrivi la nuova dell' esecutione di Parigi.... A N.S. mi faccia gratia di basciar i piedi in nome mio, col quale mi rallegro con le viscere del cuore che sia piaciuto alla Dio. Mtà. d' incaminar nel principio del suo pontificato si felicemente e honoratamente le cose di questo regno, havendo talmente havuto in protettione il Rè e Regina Madre che hanno saputo e potuto sbarrare queste pestifere radici con tanta prudenza, in tempo tanto opportuno, che tutti lor ribelli erano sotto chiave in gabbia (Salviati, Desp. Aug. 24; Theiner, i. 329; Mackintosh, iii. 355).]

[Footnote 121: Sexta Septembris, mane, in Senatu Pontificis et Cardinalium lectae sunt literae a legato Pontificio e Gallia scriptae, admiralium et Huguenotos, destinata Regis voluntate atque consensu, trucidatos esse. Ea re in eodem Senatu decretum esse, ut inde recta Pontifex cum Cardinalibus in aedem D. Marci concederet, Deoque Opt. Max. pro tanto beneficio Sedi Romanae orbique Christiano collato gratias solemni more ageret (Scriptum Roma missum in Capilupi, 1574, p. 84). Quia Die 2a praedicti mensis Septembris Smus D.N. certior factus fuerat Colignium Franciae Ammiralium a populo Parisien occisum fuisse et cum eo multos ex Ducibus et primoribus Ugonotarum haereticorum eius sequacibus Rege ipso Franciae approbante, ex quo spes erat tranquillitatem in dicto Regno redituram expulsis haereticis, idcirco Stas Sua expleto concistorio descendit ad ecclesiam Sancti Marci, praecedente cruce et sequentibus Cardinalibus et genuflexus ante altare maius, ubi positum fuerat sanctissimum Sacramentum, oravit gratias Deo agens, et inchoavit cantando hymnum Te Deum (Fr. Mucantii Diaria, B.M. Add. MSS. 26,811).]

[Footnote 122: Après quelques autres discours qu'il me feist sur le contentement que luy et le collége des Cardinaux avoient receu de ladicte execution faicte et des nouvelles qui journellement arrivoient en ceste court de semblables exécutions que l'on a faicte et font encore en plusieurs villes de vostre royaume, qui, à dire la vérité, sont les nouvelles les plus agréables que je pense qu'on eust sceu apporter en ceste ville, sadicte Saincteté pour fin me commanda de vous escrire que cest évènement luy a esté cent fois plus agréable que cinquante victoires semblables à celle que ceulx de la ligue obtindrent l'année passée contre le Turcq, ne voulant oublier vous dire, Sire, les commandemens estroictz qu'il nous feist à tous, mesmement aux françois d'en faire feu de joye, et qui ne l'eust faict eust mal senty de la foy (Ferralz, ut supra).]

[Footnote 123: Tutta Roma stà in allegria di tal fatto et frà i più grandi si dice, che 'l Rè di Francia ha insegnato alli Principi christiani ch' hanno de simili vassalli nè stati loro a liberarsene, et dicono che vostra Maestà Cesara dovrebbe castigare il conte Palatino tanto nemico della Serenissima casa d' Austria, et della Religione cattolica, come l'anni passati fece contra il Duca di Sassonia tiene tuttavia prigione, che a un tempo vendicarebbe le tante ingiurie ha fatto detto Palatino alla Chiesa di Dio, et poveri Christiani, et alla Maestà Vostra et sua Casa Serenissima sprezzando li suoi editti et commandamenti, et privarlo dell' elettione dell'Imperio et darlo al Duca di Baviera (Cusano to the Emperor, Rome, Sept. 6, 1572; Vienna Archives).]

[Footnote 124: The Bull, as published in Paris, is printed by Strype (Life of Parker, iii. 197). La prima occasione che a ciò lo mosse fù per lo stratagemma fatto da Carlo Nono Christianissimo Rè di Francia contra Coligno Ammiraglio, capo d' Ugonotti, et suoi seguaci, tagliati a pezzi in Parigi (Ciappi, Vita di Gregorio XIII., 1596, p. 63).]

[Footnote 125: Vasari to Borghini, Oct. 5, 1572; March 5, 1573; to Francesco Medici, Nov. 17, 1572; Gaye, Carteggio d' Artisti, iii. 328, 366, 341.]

[Footnote 126: Indubitatamente non si osservarà interamente, havendomi in questo modo, punto che torno dall' audienza promesso il Rè, imponendomi di darne conto in suo nome a Nostro Signore, di volere in breve tempo liberare il Regno dalli Ugonotti.... Mi ha parlato della dispensa, escusandosi non haver fatto il Parentado per ultro, che per liberarsi da suoi inimici (Salviati, Desp. Sept. 3, Sept. 2, Oct. 11, 1572).]

[Footnote 127: Si vede che l' editto non essendo osservato ne da popoli, ne dal principe, non è per pigliar piede (Salviati, Desp. Sept. 4). Qual Regina in progresso di tempo intende pur non solo di revocare tal editto, ma per mezzo della giustitia di restituir la fede cattolica nell' antica osservanza, parendogli che nessuno ne debba dubitare adesso, che hanno fatto morire l' ammiraglio con tanti altri huomini di valore, conforme ai raggionamenti altre volte havuti con esso meco essendo a Bles, et trattando del parentado di Navarra, et dell' altre cose che correvano in quei tempi, il che essendo vero, ne posso rendere testimonianza, e a Nostro Signore e a tutto il mondo (Aug. 27; Theiner, i. 329, 330).]

[Footnote 128: Desp. Sept. 2, 1572.]

[Footnote 129: The reply of Boccapaduli is printed in French, with the translation of the oration of Muretus, Paris, 1573.]

[Footnote 130: Troverà le cose cosi ben disposte, che durarà poca fattica in ottener quel tanto si desidera per Sua Beatitudine, anzi haverà più presto da ringratiar quella Maestà Christianissima di cosi buona et sant' opera, ha fatto far, che da durare molta fatica in persuaderli l' unione con la Santa Chiesa Romana (Cusano to the Emperor, Rome, Sept. 6). Sereno (Comment. della guerra di Cipro, p. 329) understands the mission in the same light.]

[Footnote 131: Omnes mulas ascendentes cappis et galeris pontificalibus induti associarunt Rmum D. Cardinalem Ursinum Legatum usque ad portam Flaminiam et extra eam ubi factis multis reverentiis eum ibi reliquerunt, juxta ritum antiquum in ceremoniali libro descriptum qui longo tempore intermissus fuerat, ita Pontifice iubente in Concistorio hodierno (Mucantii Diaria). Ista associatio fuit determinata in Concistorio vocatis X. Cardinalibus et ex improviso exequuti fuimus (C. Firmani Diaria, B.M. Add. MSS. 8448).]

[Footnote 132: Mette in consideratione alla Santità Sua che havendo deputato un Legato apostolico sù la morte dell' ammiraglio, et altri capi Ugonotti, ha fatti ammazzare a Parigi, saria per metterla in molto sospetto et diffidenza delli Principi Protestanti, et della Regina d' Inghilterra, ch' ella fosse d' accordo con la sede Apostolica, et Principi Cattolici per farli guerra, i quali cerca d' acquettar con accertarli tutti, che non ha fatto ammazzar l' ammiraglio et suoi seguaci per conto della Religione (Cusano to the Emperor, Sept. 27).]

[Footnote 133: Salviati, Desp. Sept. 22, 1572.]

[Footnote 134: Charles IX. to S. Goard, Oct. 5, 1572; Charrière, iii. 330. Ne poteva esser bastante segno l' haver egli doppo la morte dell' Ammiraglio fatto un editto, che in tutti i luoghi del suo regno fossero posti a fil di spada quanti heretici vi si trovassero, onde in pochi giorni n' erano stati ammazzati settanta milla e d' avantaggio (Cicarelli, Vita di Gregori XIII.; Platina, Vite de' Pontefici, 1715, 592).]

[Footnote 135: Il tengono quasiche in filo et il necessitano a far cose contra la sua natura e la sua volontà perche S. Sta è sempre stato di natura piacevole e dolce (Relatione di Gregorio XIII.; Ranke, Päpste, App. 80). Faict Cardinal par le pape Pie IV., le 12e de Mars 1559, lequel en le créant, dit qu'il n'avoit créé un cardinal ains un pape (Ferralz to Charles IX., May 14, 1572).]

[Footnote 136: Smus Dominus Noster dixit nullam concordiam vel pacem debere nec posse esse inter nos et hereticos, et cum eis nullum foedus ineundum et habendum ... verissimum est deteriores esse haereticos gentilibus, eo quod sunt adeo perversi et obstinati, ut propemodum infideles sint (Acta Concistoralia, June 18, 1571; Bib. Imp. F. Lat. 12, 561).]

[Footnote 137: Ogni giorno faceva impiccare e squartare ora uno, ora un altro (Cantù, ii. 410).]

[Footnote 138: Legazioni di Serristori, 436, 443.]

[Footnote 139: Elle desire infiniment que vostre Majesté face quelque ressentement plus qu'elle n'a faict jusques à ceste heure contre ceux qui lui font la guerre, comme de raser quelques-unes de leurs principales maisons pour une perpétuelle mémoyre (Rambouillet to Charles IX., Rome, Jan. 17, 1569; Bib. Imp. F. Fr. 17,989).]

[Footnote 140: Pius V. to Catherine, April 13, 1569.]

[Footnote 141: Pius V. to Charles IX., March 28, 1569.]

[Footnote 142: Sa Saincteté m'a dict que j'escrive à vostre majesté que icelle se souvienne qu'elle combat pour la querelle de Dieu, et que ceste à elle de faire ses vengeances (Rambouillet to Charles IX., Rome, March 14, 1569; Bib. Imp. F. Fr. 16,039). Nihil est enim ea pietate misericordiaque crudelius, quae in impios et ultima supplicia meritos confertur (Pius V. to Charles IX., Oct. 20, 1569).]

[Footnote 143: Correspondance de Philippe II., ii. 185.]

[Footnote 144: Inspirato più d' un anno fa di esporre la vita al martirio col procurare la liberatione della religione, et delle patria per mezzo della morte del tiranno, et assicurato da Theologi che il fatto saria stato meritorio, non ne haveva con tutto ciò mai potuto ottenere da superiori suoi la licenza o dispensa.... Io quantunque mi sia parso di trovarlo pieno di tale humiltà, prudenza, spirito et core che arguiscono che questa sia inspiratione veramente piuttosto che temerità o legerezza, non cognoscendo tuttavia di potergliela concedere l' ho persuaso a tornarsene nel suo covento raccommandarsi a Dio et attendere all' obbedienza delli suoi superiori finchè io attendessi dallo assenso o ripulsa del Papa che haverei interpellato per la sua santa beneditione, se questo spirito sia veramente da Dio donde si potrà conjetturare che sia venendo approvato da Sua Stà, e perciò sarà più sicuro da essere eseguito.... Resta hora che V.S. Illma mi favorisca di communicare a S.B. il caso, et scrivermene come la supplico quanto prima per duplicate et triplicate lettere la sua santa determinatione assicurandosi che per quanto sarà in me il negotio sarà trattato con la debita circumspetione (Sega, Desp. Paris, Jan. 23, 1591; deciphered in Rome, March 26).]

[Footnote 145: Ferralz to Charles IX., Nov. 18, Dec. 23, 1572.]

[Footnote 146: De Castro, De Justa Haeret. Punitione, 1547, p. 119. Iure Divino obligantur eos extirpare, si absque maiori incommodo possint (Lancelottus, Haereticum quare per Catholicum quia, 1615, p. 579). Ubi quid indulgendum sit, ratio semper exacta habeatur, an Religioni Ecclesiae, et Reipublicae quid vice mutua accedat quod majoris sit momenti, et plus prodesse possit (Pamelius, De Relig. diversis non admittendis, 1589, p. 159). Contagium istud sic grassatum est, ut corrupta massa non ferat antiquissimas leges, severitasque tantisper remittenda sit (Possevinus, Animadv. in Thuanum; Zachariae, Iter Litterarium, p. 321).]

[Footnote 147: Principi saeculari nulla ratione permissum est, haereticis licentiam tribuere haereses suas docendi, atque adeo contractus ille iniustus.... Si quid Princeps saecularis attentet in praeiudicium Ecclesiasticae potestatis, aut contra eam aliquid statuat et paciscatur, pactum illud nullum futurum (R. Sweertii, De Fide Haereticis servanda, 1611, p. 36).]

[Footnote 148: Ad poenam quoque pertinet et odium haereticorum quod fides illis data servanda non sit (Simancha, Inst. Cath. pp. 46, 52).]

[Footnote 149: Si nolint converti, expedit eos citius tollere e medio, ne gravius postea damnentur, unde non militat contra mansuetudinem christianam, occidere Haereticos, quin potius est opus maximae misericordiae (Lancelottus, p. 579).]

[Footnote 150: De Rozoy, Annales de Toulouse, iii. 65.]

[Footnote 151: Alva to Philip, June 5, 1565; Pap. de Granvelle, ix. 288; Comment. de Monluc, iii. 425.]

[Footnote 152: Charles IX. to Mondoucet, Aug. 31, 1572; Compte Rendu, iv, 349.]

[Footnote 153: Bulletins de Bruxelles, xvi. 256.]

[Footnote 154: Granvelle to Morillon, Sept. 11, 1572; Michelet, p. 475.]

[Footnote 155: Floquet, iii. 137.]

[Footnote 156: Walsingham to Smith, Nov. 1, 1572; Digges, p. 279. Ita enim statutum ab illis fuit die 27 Octobris (Beza, Dec. 3, 1572; Ill. vir. Epp. Sel. 621). La Mothe, v. 164; Faustino Tasso, Historie de nostri tempi, 1583, p. 343.]

[Footnote 157: Discorso di Monsignor Terracina à Gregorio XIII.; Thesauri Politici Contin. 1618, pp. 73-76.]

[Footnote 158: Infin che ne viverà grande, o picciolo di loro, mai non le mancheranno insidie (Lettere del Muzio, 1590, p. 232).]

[Footnote 159: Coupez, tronquez, cisaillez, ne pardonnez à parens ny amis, princes et subiets, ny à quelque personne de quelque condition qu'ils soient (D'Orléans, Premier advertissement des Catholiques Anglois aux François Catholiques, 1590, p. 13). The notion that Charles had displayed an extreme benignity recurs in many books: "Nostre Prince a surpassé tout mesure de clémence" (Le Frère de Laval Histoire des Troubles, 1576, p. 527).]

[Footnote 160: Serranus, Comment. iv. 51.]

[Footnote 161: Bouges, Histoire de Carcassonne, p. 343.]

[Footnote 162: Sommaire de la Félonie commise á Lyon. A contemporary tract reprinted by Gonon, 1848, p. 221.]

[Footnote 163: On this point Smith may be trusted rather than Parker (Correspondence, p. 399).]

[Footnote 164: Bulletins de Bruxelles, xvi. 249.]

[Footnote 165: Qui è venuto quello che dette l' archibusata all' ammiraglio di Francia, et è stato condotto dal Cardinal di Lorena et dall' Ambasciator di Francia, al papa. A molti non è piaciuto che costui sia venuto in Roma (Prospero Count Arco to the Emperor, Rome, Nov. 15, 1572; Vienna Archives).]

[Footnote 166: Zuñiga to Philip, March 4, 1573; Arch. de l'Empire, K. 1531, B. 35, 70. Zuñiga heard it from Lorraine.]

[Footnote 167: Et est toute la dispute encores sur les derniers évènemens de la France, contre lesquels l'Electeur est beaucoup plus aigre qu'il n'estoyt à mon aultre voyage, depuys qu'il a esté en l'escole à Vienne (Schomberg to Brulart, May 12, 1573; Groen, iv. App. 76).]

[Footnote 168: Sattler, Geschichte von Würtemberg, v. 23.]

[Footnote 169: Audio quosdam etiam nostralium theologorum cruentam istam nuptiarum feralium celebrationem pertinaciae Gallorum in semel recepta de sacramentalibus mysteriis sententia acceptam referre et praeter illos pati neminem somniare (Steinberger to Crato, Nov. 23, 1572; Gillet, Craio von Crafftheim, ii. 519).]

[Footnote 170: Heppe, Geschichte des deutschen Protestantismus, iv. 37, 47, 49.]

[Footnote 171: Hachfeld, Martin Chemnitz, p. 137.]

[Footnote 172: Sunt tamen qui hoc factum et excusare et defendere tentant (Bullinger to Hotoman, Oct. 11, 1572; Hotoman, Epis. 35).]

[Footnote 173: Nec dubium est melius cum ipsis actum fuisse, si quemadmodum a principio instituerant, cum disciplinam ecclesiasticam inroduxere, viros modestos et piae veraeque reformationis cupidos tantum in suos coetus admisissent, reiectis petulantibus et fervidis ingeniis, quae eos in diros tumultus, et inextricabilia mala coniecerunt (Dinothus, De Bello Civili, 1582, p. 243).]

[Footnote 174: Beza to Tilius, July 5, 1572; Ill. vir. Epp. Sel. 607.]

[Footnote 175: Quoties autem ego haec ipse praedixi! quoties praemonui! Sed sic Deo visum est, iustissimis de causis irato, et tamen servatori (Beza to Tilius, Sept. 10, 1572, 614). Nihil istorum non iustissimo iudicio accidere necesse est fateri, qui Galliarum statum norunt (Beza to Crato, Aug. 26. 1573; Gillet, ii. 521).]

[Footnote 176: Ut mihi quidem magis absurde facere videantur quam si sacrilegas parricidas puniendos negarent, quum sint istis omnibus haeretici infinitis partibus deteriores.... In nullos unquam homines severius quam in haereticos, blasphemos et impios debet animadvertere (De Haereticis puniendis, Tract. Theol. i. 143, 152).]

[Footnote 177: Epist. Theolog. 1575, p. 338.]

[Footnote 178: Beza to Wittgenstein, Pentecost, 1583; Friedländer, 143.]

[Footnote 179: Lobo de Silveis to De Thou, July 7, 1616; Histoire, xv. 371; J.B. Gallus, Ibid. p. 435.]

[Footnote 180: Le Cardinal Barberini, que je tiens pour Serviteur du Roy, a parlé franchement sur ceste affaire, et m'a dit qu'il croyoit presqu'impossible qu'il se trouve jamais remede, si vous ne la voulez recommencer; disant que depuis le commencement jusqu'à la fin vous vous estes monstré du tout passionné contre ce qui est de l'honneur et de la grandeur de l'Église, qu'il se trouvera dans vostre histoire que vous ne parlez jamais des Catholiques qu'avec du mépris et de la louange de ceux de la religion; que mesme vous avez blasmé ce que feu Monsieur le président de Thou vostre père avoit approuvé, qui est la S. Barthelemy (De Brèves to De Thou, Rome, Feb. 18, 1610; Bib. Imp. F. Dupuy, 812).]

[Footnote 181: Crudelitatisne tu esse ac non clementiae potius, pietatisque putas? (Resp. ad Ep. Casauboni, 1612, p. 118).]

[Footnote 182: Quae res uti Catholicae Religioni sublevandae opportuna, ita maxime jucunda Gregorio accidit (Hist. Pontif. Gregori XIII., p. 30).]

[Footnote 183: Histoire d'Orléans, pp. 421, 424.]

[Footnote 184: Germain to Bretagne, Rome, Dec. 24, 1685; Valery, Corresp. de Mabillon, i. 192.]

[Footnote 185: Du Molinet, Hist. S. Pont. per Numismata, 1679, 93; Buorranni, Numismata Pontificum, i. 336.]

[Footnote 186: Annali d'Italia ad ann. 1572.]

[Footnote 187: Si huviera respirado mas tiempo, huviera dado a entender al mundo, que avia Rey en la Francia, y Dios en Israel (Vida de S. Francisco De Borja, 446).]

[Footnote 188: Vita di Sisto V., i. 119.]

[Footnote 189: Quo demum res evaderent, si Regibus non esset integrum, in rebelles, subditos, quietisque publicae turbatores animadvertere? (Apparatus Eruditionis, vii. 503; Piatti, Storia de' Pontefici XI., p. 271).]

[Footnote 190: Per le notizie che ricevette della cessata strage (Moroni, Dizionario di Erudizione Ecclesiastica, xxxii. 298).]

[Footnote 191: [1868.]]

[Footnote 192: Kirchengeschichte, iii. 211.]

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