possible. He says that he took care to let Mary know all that transpired on the trial of Norfolk, and of his condemnation, and when he could not get access to her, he tormented her through the Countess of Shrewsbury. He seemed to gloat with pleasure over Mary's grief for the trouble and death of Norfolk. He says she wept and mourned bitterly. "All the last week this queen did not once look out of her chamber, hearing that the duke stood upon arraignment and trial;" and he adds, "My presence is such a trouble to her, that, unless she comes out of her chamber, I come little at her, but my lady is seldom from her." To the death of Norfolk was added that of Northumberland, and of the Archbishop of St. Andrew's, in Scotland. There all seemed going against her. The civil war still raged fiercely, but her party was gradually declining before her enemies.
Lennox, the regent, attainted Maitland in Parliament for the murder of his son, and directed his plans of vengeance against the Hamiltons for their resistance to the Government of the king. Alarmed at this demonstration, the Duke of Chatelherault, Lord Claude Hamilton, the Earl of Huntley, and Scott of Buccleuch, made a night assault upon Stirling, where the regent lay, and were masters of it without opposition. They rushed to the castle, forced their way into the rooms of the lords of the Lennox faction, and seized them, with Lennox himself. They were on the point of carrying off their prisoners to Edinburgh Castle, when a rumour of an attack from the Earl of Mar put them to flight. Before going, however, one of them, crying vengeance for the Archbishop of St. Andrew's, shot the regent through the head. This done, they fled loaded with plunder. Morton, in the confusion, made his escape, and once more raised the banner of opposition under the auspices of the Queen of England. Mar was appointed regent on the part of the faction of the young king, and thus the country continued rent asunder. The power of Elizabeth might be said to be the paramount one in Scotland, though the castle of Edinburgh and the Highlands were still in the hands of Mary's adherents.
Meantime, Elizabeth had been making a gay procession amongst her subjects, and had been royally feasted at the castle of her favourite, Leicester, at Kenilworth, and was at Woodstock, on her return towards town, when she was met by one of the most horrible pieces of news which ever flew across affrighted Europe. This was the massacre of St. Bartholomew.
The pacification which had been patched up betwixt the Romanists and the Huguenots in France had no sincerity in it. All the old hatred and resentment were fomenting beneath the surface. The Huguenots had no faith in the Papists, and the Papists longed to annihilate the Huguenots as heretics. None thirsted so much for their blood as the queen-mother, Catherine de Medicis. She entered into the most subtle and daring schemes for their destruction, and the imbecile Charles IX. was mere wax in her hands. Without letting him know the real aim of their plots, his authority was used to effect them.
At the head of the Huguenots was the young King of Navarre, afterwards Henry IV.; and his right hand was the able and experienced Admiral Coligny. It was the most earnest object of the party of Catherine to obtain possession of Coligny, as the soul and mainspring of the Protestant party. To this end, after the pacification, he was invited to Court, but declined to go, from his suspicion of the real design of Catherine. He remained at Rochelle, where the King of Navarre, Condé, and the elite of the Huguenot nobles, resided. But the plans of the Medici party were conducted with the most profound and perfidious skill. The hand of the sister of Charles IX. was offered to Henry of Navarre, as the pledge of a thorough union of parties, and Coligny was invited to take the command of an army intended to invade Flanders, and join the Prince of Orange against Philip of Spain. Still Coligny hesitated, but during the summer, Charles IX. contrived to press him to come to Court, where he promised him the highest favour. Charles wrote to him with his own hand, and sent Coligny's son-in-law, Teligny, who also carried the strongest entreaties from the admiral's own relatives that he would avail himself of the Royal regard. The king talked in such a manner as to induce many to believe that he was really more inclined to Protestantism than to the ancient faith.
At length, overcome by all these circumstances, the admiral went to Blois, where the king was keeping his Court, and was received with the highest honours. Charles testified the most remarkable regard for him, called him his father, restored all his forfeited employments, and even showed his sincerity by warning him of the latent malice of his mother and her Italian followers. At the same time the Huguenots saw with the deepest alarm this coalition of Coligny and the king. They could not believe that there was any real good-will towards the admiral—no, not even in the king himself. They warned Coligny to be on his guard.
Yet everything were an aspect of progressive alliance, and cohesion of the heads of the parties. The marriage of Henry of Navarre and the sister of the king was determined, and on the 18th of August, 1572, it was celebrated at Paris with great gaiety and state. Coligny and many Protestant noblemen were present, and, during four days of festivity, Coligny and the king appeared on the best of terms. On the last of these days, as he was returning from the tennis-court, whither he had gone with the king, the Duke of Guise, and a number of the nobles, he was shot at from a house belonging to Guise, and wounded in two places, but not mortally. On this the Huguenots rose furiously together, declaring that the attempt had been made by the order of Guise, in revenge for the death of his father, who had been killed by Poltrot, the Huguenot, at the siege of Orleans, and, as the Roman Catholics insisted, at the instigation of Coligny.
The king, the queen-mother, and the Duke of Anjou, attended by a crowd of courtiers, hastened to the house of Coligny, as if to sympathise with him; and Coligny requesting to speak with the king alone, Charles ordered his mother, his brother, and the rest to withdraw to a distance. Probably Coligny had a shrewd idea whence the mischief came; but when he began to speak passionately, Catherine, who was the real author of the deadly deed, fearing, probably, some revelation to her disadvantage, advanced and drew the king away.
This took place on Friday, the 22nd of August; and the next day, the eve of St. Bartholomew, Catherine and
