Massacres Of The South

A >> Alexandre Dumas, Pere >> Massacres Of The South

CELEBRATED CRIMES, COMPLETE

BY ALEXANDRE DUMAS, PERE

IN EIGHT VOLUMES



MASSACRES OF THE SOUTH--1551-1815




CHAPTER I

It is possible that our reader, whose recollections may perhaps go back
as far as the Restoration, will be surprised at the size of the frame
required for the picture we are about to bring before him, embracing as
it does two centuries and a half; but as everything, has its precedent,
every river its source, every volcano its central fire, so it is that the
spot of earth on which we are going to fix our eyes has been the scene of
action and reaction, revenge and retaliation, till the religious annals
of the South resemble an account-book kept by double entry, in which
fanaticism enters the profits of death, one side being written with the
blood of Catholics, the other with that of Protestants.

In the great political and religious convulsions of the South, the
earthquake-like throes of which were felt even in the capital, Nimes has
always taken the central place; Nimes will therefore be the pivot round
which our story will revolve, and though we may sometimes leave it for a
moment, we shall always return thither without fail.

Nimes was reunited to France by Louis VIII, the government being taken
from its vicomte, Bernard Athon VI, and given to consuls in the year
1207. During the episcopate of Michel Briconnet the relics of St. Bauzile
were discovered, and hardly were the rejoicings over this event at an end
when the new doctrines began to spread over France. It was in the South
that the persecutions began, and in 1551 several persons were publicly
burnt as heretics by order of the Seneschal's Court at Nimes, amongst
whom was Maurice Secenat, a missionary from the Cevennes, who was taken
in the very act of preaching. Thenceforth Nimes rejoiced in two martyrs
and two patron saints, one revered by the Catholics, and one by the
Protestants; St. Bauzile, after reigning as sole protector for
twenty-four years, being forced to share the honours of his guardianship
with his new rival.

Maurice Secenat was followed as preacher by Pierre de Lavau; these two
names being still remembered among the crowd of obscure and forgotten
martyrs. He also was put to death on the Place de la Salamandre, all the
difference being that the former was burnt and the latter hanged.

Pierre de Lavau was attended in his last moments by Dominique Deyron,
Doctor of Theology; but instead of, as is usual, the dying man being
converted by the priest, it was the priest who was converted by de
Lavau, and the teaching which it was desired should be suppressed burst
forth again. Decrees were issued against Dominique Deyron; he was
pursued and tracked down, and only escaped the gibbet by fleeing to the
mountains.

The mountains are the refuge of all rising or decaying sects; God has
given to the powerful on earth city, plain, and sea, but the mountains
are the heritage of the oppressed.

Persecution and proselytism kept pace with each other, but the blood that
was shed produced the usual effect: it rendered the soil on which it fell
fruitful, and after two or three years of struggle, during which two or
three hundred Huguenots had been burnt or hanged, Nimes awoke one morning
with a Protestant majority. In 1556 the consuls received a sharp
reprimand on account of the leaning of the city towards the doctrines of
the Reformation; but in 1557, one short year after this admonition, Henri
II was forced to confer the office of president of the Presidial Court on
William de Calviere, a Protestant. At last a decision of the senior
judge having declared that it was the duty of the consuls to sanction the
execution of heretics by their presence, the magistrates of the city
protested against this decision, and the power of the Crown was
insufficient to carry it out.

Henri II dying, Catherine de Medicis and the Guises took possession of
the throne in the name of Francois II. There is a moment when nations
can always draw a long breath, it is while their kings are awaiting
burial; and Nimes took advantage of this moment on the death of Henri II,
and on September 29th, 1559, Guillaume Moget founded the first Protestant
community.

Guillaume Moget came from Geneva. He was the spiritual son of Calvin,
and came to Nimes with the firm purpose of converting all the remaining
Catholics or of being hanged. As he was eloquent, spirited, and wily,
too wise to be violent, ever ready to give and take in the matter of
concessions, luck was on his side, and Guillaume Moget escaped hanging.

The moment a rising sect ceases to be downtrodden it becomes a queen, and
heresy, already mistress of three-fourths of the city, began to hold up
its head with boldness in the streets. A householder called Guillaume
Raymond opened his house to the Calvinist missionary, and allowed him to
preach in it regularly to all who came, and the wavering were thus
confirmed in the new faith. Soon the house became too narrow to contain
the crowds which flocked thither to imbibe the poison of the
revolutionary doctrine, and impatient glances fell on the churches.

Meanwhile the Vicomte de Joyeuse, who had just been appointed governor of
Languedoc in the place of M. de Villars, grew uneasy at the rapid
progress made by the Protestants, who so far from trying to conceal it
boasted of it; so he summoned the consuls before him, admonished them
sharply in the king's name, and threatened to quarter a garrison in the
town which would soon put an end to these disorders. The consuls
promised to stop the evil without the aid of outside help, and to carry
out their promise doubled the patrol and appointed a captain of the town
whose sole duty was to keep order in the streets. Now this captain whose
office had been created solely for the repression of heresy, happened to
be Captain Bouillargues, the most inveterate Huguenot who ever existed.

The result of this discriminating choice was that Guillaume Moget began
to preach, and once when a great crowd had gathered in a garden to hear
him hold forth, heavy rain came on, and it became necessary for the
people either to disperse or to seek shelter under a roof. As the
preacher had just reached the most interesting part of his sermon, the
congregation did not hesitate an instant to take the latter alternative.
The Church of St. Etienne du Capitole was quite near: someone present
suggested that this building, if not the most suitable, as at least the
most spacious for such a gathering.

The idea was received with acclamation: the rain grew heavier, the crowd
invaded the church, drove out the priests, trampled the Holy Sacrament
under foot, and broke the sacred images. This being accomplished,
Guillaume Moget entered the pulpit, and resumed his sermon with such
eloquence that his hearers' excitement redoubled, and not satisfied with
what had already been done, rushed off to seize on the Franciscan
monastery, where they forthwith installed Moget and the two women, who,
according to Menard the historian of Languedoc, never left him day or
night; all which proceedings were regarded by Captain Bouillargues with
magnificent calm.

The consuls being once more summoned before M. de Villars, who had again
become governor, would gladly have denied the existence of disorder; but
finding this impossible, they threw themselves on his mercy. He being
unable to repose confidence in them any longer, sent a garrison to the
citadel of Nimes, which the municipality was obliged to support,
appointed a governor of the city with four district captains under him,
and formed a body of military police which quite superseded the municipal
constabulary. Moget was expelled from Nimes, and Captain Bouillargues
deprived of office.

Francis II dying in his turn, the usual effect was produced,--that is,
the persecution became less fierce,--and Moget therefore returned to
Nimes. This was a victory, and every victory being a step forward, the
triumphant preacher organised a Consistory, and the deputies of Nimes
demanded from the States-General of Orleans possession of the churches.
No notice was taken of this demand; but the Protestants were at no loss
how to proceed. On the 21st December 1561 the churches of Ste. Eugenie,
St. Augustin, and the Cordeliers were taken by assault, and cleared of
their images in a hand's turn; and this time Captain Bouillargues was not
satisfied with looking on, but directed the operations.

The cathedral was still safe, and in it were entrenched the remnant of
the Catholic clergy; but it was apparent that at the earliest opportunity
it too would be turned into a meeting-house; and this opportunity was not
long in coming.

One Sunday, when Bishop Bernard d'Elbene had celebrated mass, just as the
regular preacher was about to begin his sermon, some children who were
playing in the close began to hoot the 'beguinier' [a name of contempt
for friars]. Some of the faithful being disturbed in their meditations,
came out of the church and chastised the little Huguenots, whose parents
considered themselves in consequence to have been insulted in the persons
of their children. A great commotion ensued, crowds began to form, and
cries of "To the church! to the church!" were heard. Captain
Bouillargues happened to be in the neighbourhood, and being very
methodical set about organising the insurrection; then putting himself at
its head, he charged the cathedral, carrying everything before him, in
spite of the barricades which had been hastily erected by the Papists.
The assault was over in a few moments; the priests and their flock fled
by one door, while the Reformers entered by another. The building was in
the twinkling of an eye adapted to the new form of worship: the great
crucifix from above the altar was dragged about the streets at the end of
a rope and scourged at every cross-roads. In the evening a large fire
was lighted in the place before the cathedral, and the archives of the
ecclesiastical and religious houses, the sacred images, the relics of the
saints, the decorations of the altar, the sacerdotal vestments, even the
Host itself, were thrown on it without any remonstrance from the consuls;
the very wind which blew upon Nimes breathed heresy.

For the moment Nimes was in full revolt, and the spirit of organisation
spread: Moget assumed the titles of pastor and minister of the Christian
Church. Captain Bouillargues melted down the sacred vessels of the
Catholic churches, and paid in this manner the volunteers of Nimes and
the German mercenaries; the stones of the demolished religious houses
were used in the construction of fortifications, and before anyone
thought of attacking it the city was ready for a siege. It was at this
moment that Guillaume Calviere, who was at the head of the Presidial
Court, Moget being president of the Consistory, and Captain Bouillargues
commander-in-chief of the armed forces, suddenly resolved to create a new
authority, which, while sharing the powers hitherto vested solely in the
consuls, should be, even more than they, devoted to Calvin: thus the
office of les Messieurs came into being. This was neither more nor less
than a committee of public safety, and having been formed in the stress
of revolution it acted in a revolutionary spirit, absorbing the powers of
the consuls, and restricting the authority of the Consistory to things
spiritual. In the meantime the Edict of Amboise, was promulgated, and it
was announced that the king, Charles IX, accompanied by Catherine de
Medicis, was going to visit his loyal provinces in the South.

Determined as was Captain Bouillargues, for once he had to give way, so
strong was the party against him; therefore, despite the murmurs of the
fanatics, the city of Nimes resolved, not only to open its gates to its
sovereign, but to give him such a reception as would efface the bad
impression which Charles might have received from the history of recent
events. The royal procession was met at the Pont du Gare, where young
girls attired as nymphs emerged from a grotto bearing a collation, which
they presented to their Majesties, who graciously and heartily partook of
it. The repast at an end, the illustrious travellers resumed their
progress; but the imagination of the Nimes authorities was not to be
restrained within such narrow bounds: at the entrance to the city the
king found the Porte de la Couronne transformed into a mountain-side,
covered with vines and olive trees, under which a shepherd was tending
his flock. As the king approached the mountain parted as if yielding to
the magic of his power, the most beautiful maidens and the most noble
came out to meet their sovereign, presenting him the keys of the city
wreathed with flowers, and singing to the accompaniment of the shepherd's
pipe. Passing through the mountain, Charles saw chained to a palm tree
in the depths of a grotto a monster crocodile from whose jaws issued
flames: this was a representation of the old coat of arms granted to the
city by Octavius Caesar Augustus after the battle of Actium, and which
Francis I had restored to it in exchange for a model in silver of the
amphitheatre presented to him by the city. Lastly, the king found in the
Place de la Salamandre numerous bonfires, so that without waiting to ask
if these fires were made from the remains of the faggots used at the
martyrdom of Maurice Secenat, he went to bed very much pleased with the
reception accorded him by his good city of Nimes, and sure that all the
unfavourable reports he had heard were calumnies.

Nevertheless, in order that such rumours, however slight their
foundation, should not again be heard, the king appointed Damville
governor of Languedoc, installing him himself in the chief city of his
government; he then removed every consul from his post without exception,
and appointed in their place Guy-Rochette, doctor and lawyer; Jean
Beaudan, burgess; Francois Aubert, mason; and Cristol Ligier, farm
labourer--all Catholics. He then left for Paris, where a short time
after he concluded a treaty with the Calvinists, which the people with
its gift of prophecy called "The halting peace of unsure seat," and which
in the end led to the massacre of St. Bartholomew.

Gracious as had been the measures taken by the king to secure the peace
of his good city of Nimes, they had nevertheless been reactionary;
consequently the Catholics, feeling the authorities were now on their
side, returned in crowds: the householders reclaimed their houses, the
priests their churches; while, rendered ravenous by the bitter bread of
exile, both the clergy and the laity pillaged the treasury. Their return
was not, however; stained by bloodshed, although the Calvinists were
reviled in the open street. A few stabs from a dagger or shots from an
arquebus might, however, have been better; such wounds heal while mocking
words rankle in the memory.

On the morrow of Michaelmas Day--that is, on the 31st September 1567--a
number of conspirators might have been seen issuing from a house and
spreading themselves through the streets, crying "To arms! Down with the
Papists!" Captain Bouillargues was taking his revenge.

As the Catholics were attacked unawares, they did not make even a show of
resistance: a number of Protestants--those who possessed the best
arms--rushed to the house of Guy-Rochette, the first consul, and seized
the keys of the city. Guy Rochette, startled by the cries of the crowds,
had looked out of the window, and seeing a furious mob approaching his
house, and feeling that their rage was directed against himself, had
taken refuge with his brother Gregoire. There, recovering his courage
and presence of mind, he recalled the important responsibilities attached
to his office, and resolving to fulfil them whatever might happen,
hastened to consult with the other magistrates, but as they all gave him
very excellent reasons for not meddling, he soon felt there was no
dependence to be placed on such cowards and traitors. He next repaired
to the episcopal palace, where he found the bishop surrounded by the
principal Catholics of the town, all on their knees offering up earnest
prayers to Heaven, and awaiting martyrdom. Guy-Rochette joined them, and
the prayers were continued.

A few instants later fresh noises were heard in the street, and the gates
of the palace court groaned under blows of axe and crowbar. Hearing these
alarming sounds, the bishop, forgetting that it was his duty to set a
brave example, fled through a breach in the wall of the next house; but
Guy-Rochette and his companions valiantly resolved not to run away, but
to await their fate with patience. The gates soon yielded, and the
courtyard and palace were filled with Protestants: at their head appeared
Captain Bouillargues, sword in hand. Guy-Rochette and those with him
were seized and secured in a room under the charge of four guards, and
the palace was looted. Meantime another band of insurgents had attacked
the house of the vicar-general, John Pebereau, whose body pierced by
seven stabs of a dagger was thrown out of a window, the same fate as was
meted out to Admiral Coligny eight years later at the hands of the
Catholics. In the house a sum of 800 crowns was found and taken. The
two bands then uniting, rushed to the cathedral, which they sacked for
the second time.

Thus the entire day passed in murder and pillage: when night came the
large number of prisoners so imprudently taken began to be felt as an
encumbrance by the insurgent chiefs, who therefore resolved to take
advantage of the darkness to get rid of them without causing too much
excitement in the city. They were therefore gathered together from the
various houses in which they had been confined, and were brought to a
large hall in the Hotel de Ville, capable of containing from four to five
hundred persons, and which was soon full. An irregular tribunal
arrogating to itself powers of life and death was formed, and a clerk was
appointed to register its decrees. A list of all the prisoners was given
him, a cross placed before a name indicating that its bearer was
condemned to death, and, list in hand, he went from group to group
calling out the names distinguished by the fatal sign. Those thus sorted
out were then conducted to a spot which had been chosen beforehand as the
place of execution.

This was the palace courtyard in the middle of which yawned a well
twenty-four feet in circumference and fifty deep. The fanatics thus
found a grave ready-digged as it were to their hand, and to save time,
made use of it.

The unfortunate Catholics, led thither in groups, were either stabbed
with daggers or mutilated with axes, and the bodies thrown down the well.
Guy-Rochette was one of the first to be dragged up. For himself he asked
neither mercy nor favour, but he begged that the life of his young
brother might be spared, whose only crime was the bond of blood which
united them; but the assassins, paying no heed to his prayers, struck
down both man and boy and flung them into the well. The corpse of the
vicar-general, who had been killed the day before, was in its turn
dragged thither by a rope and added to the others. All night the
massacre went on, the crimsoned water rising in the well as corpse after
corpse was thrown in, till, at break of day, it overflowed, one hundred
and twenty bodies being then hidden in its depths.

Next day, October 1st, the scenes of tumult were renewed: from early dawn
Captain Bouillargues ran from street to street crying, "Courage,
comrades! Montpellier, Pezenas, Aramon, Beaucaire, Saint-Andeol, and
Villeneuve are taken, and are on our side. Cardinal de Lorraine is dead,
and the king is in our power." This aroused the failing energies of the
assassins. They joined the captain, and demanded that the houses round
the palace should be searched, as it was almost certain that the bishop,
who had, as may be remembered, escaped the day before, had taken refuge
in one of them. This being agreed to, a house-to-house visitation was
begun: when the house of M. de Sauvignargues was reached, he confessed
that the bishop was in his cellar, and proposed to treat with Captain
Bouillargues for a ransom. This proposition being considered reasonable,
was accepted, and after a short discussion the sum of 120 crowns was
agreed on. The bishop laid down every penny he had about him, his
servants were despoiled, and the sum made up by the Sieur de
Sauvignargues, who having the bishop in his house kept him caged. The
prelate, however, made no objection, although under other circumstances
he would have regarded this restraint as the height of impertinence; but
as it was he felt safer in M. de Sauvignargues' cellar than in the
palace.

But the secret of the worthy prelate's hiding place was but badly kept by
those with whom he had treated; for in a few moments a second crowd
appeared, hoping to obtain a second ransom. Unfortunately, the Sieur de
Sauvignargues, the bishop, and the bishop's servants had stripped
themselves of all their ready money to make up the first, so the master
of the house, fearing for his own safety, having barricaded the doors,
got out into a lane and escaped, leaving the bishop to his fate. The
Huguenots climbed in at the windows, crying, "No quarter! Down with the
Papists!" The bishop's servants were cut down, the bishop himself
dragged out of the cellar and thrown into the street. There his rings
and crozier were snatched from him; he was stripped of his clothes and
arrayed in a grotesque and ragged garment which chanced to be at hand;
his mitre was replaced by a peasant's cap; and in this condition he was
dragged back to the palace and placed on the brink of the well to be
thrown in. One of the assassins drew attention to the fact that it was
already full. "Pooh!" replied another, "they won't mind a little crowding
for a bishop." Meantime the prelate, seeing he need expect no mercy from
man, threw himself on his knees and commended his soul to God. Suddenly,
however, one of those who had shown himself most ferocious during the
massacre, Jean Coussinal by name, was touched as if by miracle with a
feeling of compassion at the sight of so much resignation, and threw
himself between the bishop and those about to strike, and declaring that
whoever touched the prelate must first overcome himself, took him under
his protection, his comrades retreating in astonishment. Jean Coussinal
raising the bishop, carried him in his arms into a neighbouring house,
and drawing his sword, took his stand on the threshold.

The assassins, however, soon recovered from their surprise, and
reflecting that when all was said and done they were fifty to one,
considered it would be shameful to let themselves be intimidated by a
single opponent, so they advanced again on Coussinal, who with a
back-handed stroke cut off the head of the first-comer. The cries upon
this redoubled, and two or three shots were fired at the obstinate
defender of the poor bishop, but they all missed aim. At that moment
Captain Bouillargues passed by, and seeing one man attacked by fifty,
inquired into the cause. He was told of Coussinal's odd determination to
save the bishop. "He is quite right," said the captain; "the bishop has
paid ransom, and no one has any right to touch him." Saying this, he
walked up to Coussinal, gave him his hand, and the two entered the house,
returning in a few moments with the bishop between them. In this order
they crossed the town, followed by the murmuring crowd, who were,
however, afraid to do more than murmur; at the gate the bishop was
provided with an escort and let go, his defenders remaining there till he
was out of sight.

The massacres went on during the whole of the second day, though towards
evening the search for victims relaxed somewhat; but still many isolated
acts of murder took place during the night. On the morrow, being tired
of killing, the people began to destroy, and this phase lasted a long
time, it being less fatiguing to throw stones about than corpses. All
the convents, all the monasteries, all the houses of the priests and
canons were attacked in turn; nothing was spared except the cathedral,
before which axes and crowbars seemed to lose their power, and the church
of Ste. Eugenie, which was turned into a powder-magazine. The day of the
great butchery was called "La Michelade," because it took place the day
after Michaelmas, and as all this happened in the year 1567 the Massacre
of St. Bartholomew must be regarded as a plagiarism.

At last, however, with the help of M. Damville; the Catholics again got
the upper hand, and it was the turn of the Protestants to fly. They took
refuge in the Cevennes. From the beginning of the troubles the Cevennes
had been the asylum of those who suffered for the Protestant faith; and
still the plains are Papist, and the mountains Protestant. When the
Catholic party is in the ascendant at Nimes, the plain seeks the
mountain; when the Protestants come into power, the mountain comes down
into the plain.