HumanitiesWeb.org - The History of England, Volume IV Elizabeth (French affairs) by David Hume
HumanitiesWeb HumanitiesWeb
WelcomeHistoryLiteratureArtMusicPhilosophyResourcesHelp
Periods Alphabetically Nationality Topics Glossary
pixel

Hume
Index
Biography
Selected Works

Search

Get Your Degree!

Find schools and get information on the program that’s right for you.

Powered by Campus Explorer

& etc
FEEDBACK

(C)1998-2012
All Rights Reserved.

Site last updated
28 October, 2012
Real Time Analytics

The History of England, Volume IV
Elizabeth
French affairs

by David Hume

The events, which happened in France, were not so agreeable to the queen’s interests and inclinations. The fallacious pacifications, which had been so often made with the hugonots, gave them reason to suspect the present intentions of the court; and after all the other leaders of that party were deceived into a dangerous credulity, the sagacious admiral still remained doubtful and uncertain. But his suspicions were at last overcome, partly by the profound dissimulation of Charles, partly by his own earnest desire to end the miseries of France, and return again to the performance of his duty towards his prince and country. He considered besides, that, as the former violent conduct of the court had ever met with such fatal success, it was not unlikely, that a prince, who had newly come to years of discretion, and appeared not to be rivetted in any dangerous animosities or prejudices, would be induced to govern himself by more moderate maxims. And as Charles was young, was of a passionate hasty temper, and addicted to pleasure,a such deep perfidy seemed either remote from his character, or difficult and almost impossible to be so uniformly supported by him. Moved by these considerations, the admiral, the queen of Navarre, and all the hugonots began to repose themselves in full security, and gave credit to the treacherous caresses and professions of the French court. Elizabeth herself, notwithstanding her great experience and penetration, entertained not the least distrust of Charles’s sincerity, and being pleased to find her enemies of the house of Guise removed from all authority, and to observe an animosity every day growing between the French and Spanish [11th April.] monarchs, she concluded a defensive league with the former,b and regarded this alliance as an invincible barrier to her throne. Walsingham, her ambassador, sent her over, by every courier, the most satisfactory accounts of the honour, and plain-dealing, and fidelity of that perfidious prince.

The better to blind the jealous hugonots and draw their leaders into the snare prepared for them, Charles offered his sister, Margaret, in marriage to the prince of Navarre; and the admiral, with all the considerable nobility of the party, had come to Paris, in order to assist at the celebration of these nuptials, which, it was hoped, would finally, if not compose the differences, at least appease the bloody animosity of the two religions. The queen of Navarre was poisoned by orders from the court; the admiral was dangerously wounded by an assassin: Yet Charles, redoubling his dissimulation, was still able to retain the hugonots in their security: Till on the evening of St. Bartholomew, a few days after the [24th Aug.] marriage, the signal was given for a general massacre of those religionists, and the king himself in person led the way to these assassinations. [Massacre of Paris.]The hatred, long entertained by the Parisians against the protestants, made them second, without any preparation, the fury of the court; and persons of every condition, age, and sex, suspected of any propensity to that religion, were involved in an undistinguished ruin. The admiral, his son-in-law Teligni, Soubize, Rochefoucault, Pardaillon, Piles, Lavardin; men, who, during the late wars, had signalized themselves by the most heroic actions, were miserably butchered without resistance; the streets of Paris flowed with blood; and the people, more enraged than satiated with their cruelty, as if repining that death had saved the victims from farther insult, exercised on their dead bodies all the rage of the most licentious brutality. About five hundred gentlemen and men of rank perished in this massacre; and near ten thousand of inferior condition.c Orders were instantly dispatched to all the provinces for a like general execution of the protestants; and in Roüen, Lyons, and many other cities, the people emulated the fury of the capital. Even the murder of the king of Navarre, and prince of Condé, had been proposed by the duke of Guise; but Charles, softened by the amiable manners of the king of Navarre, and hoping that these young princes might easily be converted to the catholic faith, determined to spare their lives, though he obliged them to purchase their safety by a seeming change of their religion.

Charles, in order to cover this barbarous perfidy, pretended, that a conspiracy of the hugonots to seize his person had been suddenly detected; and that he had been necessitated, for his own defence, to proceed to this severity against them. He sent orders to Fenelon, his ambassador in England, to ask an audience, and to give Elizabeth this account of the late transaction. That minister, a man of probity, abhorred the treachery and cruelty of his court, and even scrupled not to declare, that he was now ashamed to bear the name of Frenchman;d yet he was obliged to obey his orders, and make use of the apology, which had been prescribed to him. He met with that reception from all the courtiers, which, he knew, the conduct of his master had so well merited. Nothing could be more awful and affecting than the solemnity of his audience. A melancholy sorrow sat on every face: Silence, as in the dead of night, reigned through all the chambers of the royal apartment: The courtiers and ladies, clad in deep mourning, were ranged on each side, and allowed him to pass, without affording him one salute or favourable look; till he was admitted to the queen herself.e That princess received him with a more easy, if not a more gracious countenance; and heard his apology, without discovering any visible symptoms of indignation. She then told him, that though, on the first rumour of this dreadful intelligence, she had been astonished, that so many brave men and loyal subjects, who rested secure on the faith of their sovereign, should have been suddenly butchered in so barbarous a manner; she had hitherto suspended her judgment, till farther and more certain information should be brought her: That the account, which he had given, even if founded on no mistake or bad information; though it might alleviate, would by no means remove the blame of the king’s counsellors, or justify the strange irregularity of their proceedings: That the same force, which, without resistance, had massacred so many defenceless men, could easily have secured their persons, and have reserved them for a trial, and for punishment by a legal sentence, which would have distinguished the innocent from the guilty: That the admiral in particular, being dangerously wounded, and environed by the guards of the king, on whose protection he seemed entirely to rely, had no means of escape, and might surely, before his death, have been convicted of the crimes imputed to him: That it was more worthy of a sovereign to reserve in his own hands the sword of justice, than to commit it to bloody murderers, who, being the declared and mortal enemies of the persons accused, employed it without mercy and without distinction: That if these sentiments were just, even supposing the conspiracy of the protestants to be real; how much more so, if that crime was a calumny of their enemies, invented for their destruction? That if, upon enquiry, the innocence of these unhappy victims should afterwards appear, it was the king’s duty to turn his vengeance on their defamers, who had thus cruelly abused his confidence, had murdered so many of his brave subjects, and had done what in them lay to cover him with everlasting dishonour: And that for her part, she should form her judgment of his intentions by his subsequent conduct; and in the mean time should act as desired by the ambassador, and rather pity than blame his master for the extremities, to which he had been carried.f

Elizabeth was fully sensible of the dangerous situation, in which she now stood. In the massacre of Paris, she saw the result of that general conspiracy, formed for the extermination of the protestants; and she knew, that she herself, as the head and protectress of the new religion, was exposed to the utmost fury and resentment of the catholics. The violence and cruelty of the Spaniards in the Low Countries was another branch of the same conspiracy; and as Charles and Philip, two princes nearly allied in perfidy and barbarity, as well as in bigotry, had now laid aside their pretended quarrel, and had avowed the most entire friendship,g she had reason, as soon as they had appeased their domestic commotions, to dread the effects of their united counsels. The duke of Guise also and his family, whom Charles, in order to deceive the admiral, had hitherto kept at a distance, had now acquired an open and entire ascendant in the court of France; and she was sensible, that these princes, from personal as well as political reasons, were her declared and implacable enemies. The queen of Scots, their near relation and close confederate, was the pretender to her throne; and though detained in custody, was actuated by a restless spirit, and besides her foreign allies, possessed numerous and zealous partizans in the heart of the kingdom. For these reasons, Elizabeth thought it more prudent not to reject all commerce with the French monarch; but still to listen to the professions of friendship which he made her. She allowed even the negociations to be renewed for her marriage with the duke of Alençon, Charles’s third brother:h Those with the duke of Anjou had already been broken off. She sent the earl of Worcester to assist in her name at the baptism of a young princess, born to Charles; but before she agreed to give him this last mark of condescension, she thought it becoming her dignity, to renew her expressions of blame and even of detestation against the cruelties, exercised on his protestant subjects.i Meanwhile, she prepared herself for that attack, which seemed to threaten her from the combined power and violence of the Romanists: She fortified Portsmouth, put her fleet in order, exercised her militia, cultivated popularity with her subjects, acted with vigour for the farther reduction of Scotland under obedience to the young king, and renewed her alliance with the German princes, who were no less alarmed than herself at these treacherous and sanguinary measures, so universally embraced by the catholics.

But though Elizabeth cautiously avoided coming to extremities with Charles, the greatest security, that she possessed against his violence, was derived from the difficulties, which the obstinate resistance of the hugonots still created to him. [1573.] Such of that sect as lived near the frontiers, immediately, on the first news of the massacres, fled into England, Germany, or Switzerland; where they excited the compassion and indignation of the protestants, and prepared themselves, with encreased forces and redoubled zeal, to return into France, and avenge the treacherous slaughter of their brethren. Those who lived in the middle of the kingdom, took shelter in the nearest garrisons occupied by the hugonots; and finding, that they could repose no faith in capitulations, and expect no clemency, were determined to defend themselves to the last extremity. The sect, which Charles had hoped at one blow to exterminate, had now an army of eighteen thousand men on foot, and possessed in different parts of the kingdom above a hundred cities, castles, or fortresses;k nor could that prince deem himself secure from the invasion threatened him by all the other protestants in Europe. The nobility and gentry of England were rouzed to such a pitch of resentment, that they offered to levy an army of twenty-two thousand foot and four-thousand horse, to transport them into France, and to maintain them six months at their own charge: But Elizabeth, who was cautious in her measures, and who feared to inflame farther the quarrel between the two religions by these dangerous crusades, refused her consent, and moderated the zeal of her subjects.l The German princes, less political or more secure from the resentment of France, forwarded the levies made by the protestants; and the young prince of Condé, having escaped from court, put himself at the head of these troops, and prepared to invade the kingdom. The duke of Alençon, the king of Navarre, the family of Montmorenci, and many considerable men even among the catholics, displeased, either on private or public account, with the measures of the court, favoured the progress of the hugonots; and every thing relapsed into confusion. [1574.] The king, instead of repenting his violent counsels, which had brought matters to such extremities, called aloud for new violences;m nor could even the mortal distemper under which he laboured, moderate the rage and animosity, by which he was actuated. [30th May.]He died without male issue, at the age of twenty-five years; a prince, whose character, containing that unusual mixture of dissimulation and ferocity, of quick resentment and unrelenting vengeance, executed the greatest mischiefs, and threatened still worse, both to his native country and to all Europe.

Henry, duke of Anjou, who had, some time before, been elected king of Poland, no sooner heard of his brother’s death, than he hastened to take possession of the throne of France; and found the kingdom, not only involved in the greatest present disorders, but exposed to infirmities, for which it was extremely difficult to provide any suitable remedy. [1575.] The people were divided into two theological factions, furious from their zeal, and mutually enraged from the injuries which they had committed or suffered; and as all faith had been violated and moderation banished, it seemed impracticable to find any terms of composition between them. Each party had devoted itself to leaders, whose commands had more authority than the will of the sovereign; and even the catholics, to whom the king was attached, were entirely conducted by the counsels of Guise and his family. The religious connections had, on both sides, superseded the civil; or rather (for men will always be guided by present interest) two empires being secretly formed in the kingdom, every individual was engaged by new views of interest to follow those leaders, to whom, during the course of past convulsions, he had been indebted for his honours and preferment.

Henry, observing the low condition of the crown, had laid a scheme for restoring his own authority, by acting as umpire between the parties, by moderating their differences, and by reducing both to a dependance upon himself. He possessed all the talents of dissimulation requisite for the execution of this delicate plan; but being deficient in vigour, application, and sound judgment, instead of acquiring a superiority over both factions, he lost the confidence of both, and taught the partizans of each to adhere still more closely to their particular leaders, whom they found more cordial and sincere in the cause which they espoused. [1576.] The hugonots were strengthened by the accession of a German army under the prince of Condé and prince Casimir; but much more by the credit and personal virtues of the king of Navarre, who, having fled from court, had placed himself at the head of that formidable party. Henry, in prosecution of his plan, entered into a composition with them; and being desirous of preserving a balance between the sects, he granted them peace on the most advantageous conditions. This was the fifth general peace made with the hugonots; but though it was no more sincere on the part of the court than any of the former, it gave the highest disgust to the catholics; and afforded the duke of Guise the desired pretence of declaiming against the measures, and maxims, and conduct of the king.

That artful and bold leader took thence an occasion of reducing his party into a more formed and regular body; and he laid the first foundations of the famous LEAGUE, which, without paying any regard to the royal authority, aimed at the entire suppression of the hugonots. Such was the unhappy condition of France, from the past severities and violent conduct of its princes, that toleration could no longer be admitted; and a concession for liberty of conscience, which would probably have appeased the reformers, excited the greatest resentment in the catholics. [1577.] Henry, in order to divert the force of the league from himself, and even to elude its efforts against the hugonots, declared himself the head of that seditious confederacy, and took the field as leader of the Romanists. But his dilatory and feeble measures betrayed his reluctance to the undertaking; and after some unsuccessful attempts, he concluded a new peace, which, though less favourable than the former to the protestants, gave no contentment to the catholics. Mutual dissidence still prevailed between the parties; the king’s moderation was suspicious to both; each faction continued to fortify itself against that breach, which, they foresaw, must speedily ensue; theological controversy daily whetted the animosity of the sects; and every private injury became the ground of a public quarrel.

[1578.] The king, hoping, by his artifice and subtlety, to allure the nation into a love of pleasure and repose, was himself caught in the snare; and sinking into a dissolute indolence, wholly lost the esteem, and, in a great measure, the affections of his people. Instead of advancing such men of character and abilities, as were neuters between these dangerous factions, he gave all his confidence to young agreeable favourites, who, unable to prop his falling authority, leaned entirely upon it, and inflamed the general odium against his administration. The public burthens, encreased by his profuse liberality, and felt more heavy on a disordered kingdom, became another ground of complaint; and the uncontrouled animosity of parties, joined to the multiplicity of taxes, rendered peace more calamitous than any open state of foreign or even domestic hostility. [1579.] The artifices of the king were too refined to succeed, and too frequent to be concealed; and the plain, direct, and avowed conduct of the duke of Guise on one side, and that of the king of Navarre on the other, drew by degrees the generality of the nation to devote themselves without reserve to one or the other of those great leaders.

The civil commotions of France were of too general importance to be overlooked by the other princes of Europe; and Elizabeth’s foresight and vigilance, though somewhat restrained by her frugality, led her to take secretly some part in them. Besides employing on all occasions her good offices in favour of the hugonots, she had expended no inconsiderable sums in levying that army of Germans, which the prince of Condé and prince Casimir conducted into France;n and notwithstanding her negociations with the court, and her professions of amity, she always considered her own interests as connected with the prosperity of the French protestants and the depression of the house of Guise. Philip, on the other hand, had declared himself protector of the league; had entered into the closest correspondence with Guise; and had employed all his authority in supporting the credit of that factious leader. This sympathy of religion, which of itself begat a connection of interests, was one considerable inducement; but that monarch had also in view, the subduing of his rebellious subjects in the Netherlands; who, as they received great encouragement from the French protestants, would, he hoped, finally despair of success, after the entire suppression of their friends and confederates.
[a] Digges, p. 8, 39.

[b] Camden, p. 443.

[c] Davila, lib. v.

[d] Digges, p. 247.

[e] Carte, vol. iii. p. 522. from Fenelon’s Dispatches.

[f] Digges, p. 247, 248.

[g] Digges, p. 268, 282.

[h] Ibid. passim. Camden, p. 447.

[i] Digges, p. 297, 298. Camden, p. 447.

[k] Digges, p. 343.

[l] Digges, p. 335, 341.

[m] Davila, lib. v.

[n] Camden, p. 452.
Previous Next
Personae

Terms Defined

Referenced Works