--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Done, Willard collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 4 number: 6 published: 1901-04 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'Willard Done, "The Huguenot: A Story of St. Bartholomew’s," *Improvement Era* 4, no. 6 (April 1901): 405–417.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera0406unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera0406unse start_page: 405 end_page: 417 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1901-04) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera0406unse publication_year: 1901 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1901, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # The Huguenot: A Story of St. Bartholomew’s THE HUGUENOT. A STORY OF ST. BARTHOLOMEW'S. BY PROF. WILLARD DONE, AUTHOR OP THE WOMEN OF THE BIBLE." I. The organ tones were pealing in the massive Paris cathedral' reverberating and echoing among the arches, pillars, statues, crucifixes; they seemed to blend hearing with sight; — the tonewaves became, in fact, a harmonious part of the stately architecture. The light came in through stained glass windows, with their figures of saints and angels, revealing in its mellowed radiance more of the shadow, and, therefore, more of the substance of the architecture than the full light of day would have shown. Herein was manifested one of the most striking features of medieval architectural beauty. The voices of the chorus boys blended with the pealing organ notes. As the pathetic, pleading words of the anthem fell upon the soul like dew on grassy woodland, Ora pro nobis, Domini. Pray for us, — Lord, a sob, half of grief, half of joy, but all of adoration, shook the souls of the worshipers. Standing, in her excitement, amid the seated congregation, her eyes full of the light of joy and devotion, her clasped hands pressed over her heart as if to check its wild beating, her breath coming and going in almost painful gasps, was a girl, who seemed to be an epitome — — a statue of embodied adoration ; more an image of the saint than any of the carved or painted ones about her. Her figure was slender and graceful, her eyes and parted 406 IMPROVEMENT ERA. lips beautiful with tender feeling. Her face, now pale with strange emotion, was of classic mould, combining strength with an indefinable sweetness and spirituality, "so admirable in woman." "Ora pro nobis," she murmured as the strains of the anthem swept around the pillars and through the congregation; and her soul seemed lifted out of the things of earth to get a foretaste of heaven. It seemed as if all the beauty of stained glass, carved images and painted walls, and all the wealth of worship, were concentrated in this lovely being, like the colors of the rainbow in the pure, white light of the sun. Just then a procession of black-robed priests passed into the chancel. They were chanting in low, measured tones, one of the Catholic rituals. Suddenly, in the midst of the monotonous chant, the voice of one arose in a vehement anathema. The effect was most startling to the rapt worshipers. Many sprang to their feet and listened breathlessly to the vehement words of the excited priest. "Let the curse of God and the anathema of the Holy Church be upon all backsliders!" "Amen and amen," chanted the others. "May they wither before the face of God, and may his breath blast them, and sweep them like chaff from the earth!" Again the chanted amens in low, sepulchral tones, chilling the hearts of the listeners. The manner of the priest became more violent. "Down with heresy!" he shouted in a strident voice. "Cursed be the enemies of the Holy Church!" Again the chanted amens, uttered in rising tones. All the members of the congregation were now standing, and a strong excitement began to spread among them. "Abas les Huguenots! " screamed the excited man. "Anathemas upon the foes of the Pope and the holy orders! Let the Huguenots be accursed for all time!" A noise like the roaring of many waters arose from the congregation, as they gave heart and voice to the sentiments of the priest. It was such a murmur as betokened the bursting of a storm of human passion, more destructive and more blasting than a storm of elements. It was one of those outbreaks which, no THE HUGUENOT. 407 matter how slight the immediate provocation, were of frequent and violent occurrence throughout France in those troublous times. For a deadly conflict was raging in the distracted land. Not a war of conquest, where selfish-generous foes fight for power and supremacy; not merely the more terrible civil conflict, where, brother against brother, father against son, neighbor against neighbor, men fight for political principle; but the still more fearful religious strife, where the spirits of brothers, fathers, sons and neighbors fight against one another through physical weapons; where the souls of men are the prizes for which victories are won and defeats suffered. Such conflicts are never bloodless; worse still, they are never devoid of hatred. Springing from the deepest feeling of the human soul, the religious sense, they develop the greatest possible animosity. The conflicts of ambition, or even of love, are tame by comparison. The religious war is the fiercest of all, because its motives have to do with eternity and the things of the spirit; the others, with time and the things of earth. The Roman Catholic church had been supreme throughout Europe. For centuries it had exercised control over the souls and the destinies of men. Its sway had been undisputed. But of late serious questions and doubts had begun to assail the souls of — men and the Reformation had resulted. In different countries, it had assumed different names and forms, but the nature of it — had been the same in all revolt against the universal sovereignty of the Pope. In France, these dissenters from the Catholic church became known as Huguenots. It was against these, as apostates from the church, that the anathemas of the priest were hurled. Amid the measured chanting of his still unimpassioned companions, and the wild uproar of the excited congregation, the man displayed a fine frenzy, and an intense hatred of those whom he esteemed enemies of the church to which he had vowed his life and labors. Meantime, the uproar grew apace. In the midst of it, the young priest mounted an elevation, where he could command a view of the entire congregation. "A vow, a vow!" he shouted, his voice and words sending a sudden shock and thrill through the multitude. 408 IMPROVEMENT ERA. "Are you true to the holy church? Are its enemies your enemies, its friends your friends? Is it more to you than any other ambi- tion, any other passion? Would — you live for it die for it? Then register this vow: A pledge to use all power, all influence, all effort to defend the church. To let no attachment of friendship, interest or love stand in the way of avenging its wrongs upon its enemies. To sacrifice for it every interest, every friend, life itself. Swear by the cross!" He pointed to a crucifix bearing an agonized figure of the Christ. The effect was electrical. Passion shook half the multitude, a sob, the others. But among the rest the white figure of the girl arrested all the attention of the priest. Her face, turned full upon him, was pale with deep emotion; her- hand was raised, half in assent, half in remonstrance. Her gaze and attitude seemed to transfix him. As the congregation, wrought to a frenzy by his words, raised their voices to pledge his vow, he heeded them not, but remained still and silent until the spell was broken by an unexpected incident. Outside the church arose a tumult of angry voices. The door was forced, and an armed band crowded into the room. "Down with idolatry," they cried, rushing toward statues and pictures. "The Huguenots!" exclaimed the worshipers. Then ensued a scene of confusion and violence which beggars description. Vandalism reigned supreme. Images and pictures of saints, figures in stained glass, crucifixes, incense tripods, and everything else that to the Huguenots savored of idolatry, were wantonly destroyed. Nor were scenes of personal violence wanting. Blood ran down the isles and laved the base of the altar. When the onslaught first occurred, the young priest sprang toward the girl to shield her from violence. At the same instant, a young man who accompanied the marauders reached her side. "Men!'' he shouted to them, "I ask you to desist. What you do ! is not a credit to you or to your cause On the infuriated multitude, his words had no effect. But at the sound of his voice, the girl staggered and would have fallen had he not thrown his arm around her. "Marie! " he cried, in agony. THE HUGUENOT. 409 "My Eugene!" she whispered, aghast. "You here? But thank God, not as a Huguenot!" she exclaimed, devoutly. "He is one of these!" shouted the priest, in a fury. "A profaner of churches, an accursed apostate, a son of perdition!" Throwing herself between the men, before her lover could answer, Marie pushed him back. Just then the first man struck down, screamed in the agony of a mortal wound. At the sound Marie fainted and was borne away in Eugene's arms. "We shall meet again!" the priest shouted after him. ! "As soon as possible " angrily replied the other, as he bore the girl into the open air. "Father Philippe, to your duty," called one of the priests. Recollecting himself, the young priest joined his companions in their defense of the treasures of the cathedral. II. Thus the two religious factions warred with each other. As in Paris, so it was throughout France. Acts of violence were common and mutual. It was noticeable, however, that in general the attacks of the Huguenots were upon images, pictures and other church furnishings, which they considered idolatrous; the attacks of the Catholics were upon the Huguenots, whom they considered accursed and worthy of death. This warfare had continued for years, and the people were growing weary of it; for not only was it a religious war with all the horrors accompanying such a conflict, it was a political struggle also. The king, Charles IX, seemed friendly to the Huguenots, for political reasons, while his mother, the blood-thirsty Catharine de Medici, was devoted to the Catholic party. Urged by the moderates among his own people, the king tried for peace. — There seemed but one way to secure it by an alliance; and that alliance must be matrimonial. Accordingly, arrangements were made for a marriage between a Catholic and a Huguenot of prominence. The wedding was to take place in Paris, and the Huguenots from all parts of France gathered to that city to take part in the festivities. 410 IMPROVEMENT ERA. It was a night in the summer of 1572. The wind was rushing through the streets, driving sheets of rain before it. Brilliant flashes of lightning were followed almost instantaneously by deafening peals of thunder. In a squalid, deserted district of the great city, a man, wrapped in a long cloak, his head completely muffled in a hood, was carefully threading his way through narrow, muddy alleys, lighted only by the fitful flashes. At length he came to a place where a blind alley received three converging streets. Dark, gloomy houses, uninhabited except by bats and other vermin, arose on all sides, forming a perfect barricade and hiding place. Here the man stopped and looked impatiently around. Drawing a sword from its sheath, he stood with his back to the wall in such a position that he could warily command all the approaches at once. At each flash of lightning, he swept with his eyes the alleys, as far as he could see. At length his vigil was rewarded. A ragged, crouching figure approached the spot, as stealthily as the first. As he came within ten paces, he was stopped by the imperious command, "The password!" "Coliquy," he answered. "Approach," was his welcome. For a few minutes there was silence. Then the first comer told his companion to stand with his back against the opposite wall and watch for possible intruders. "We must be brief," said the man in the cloak. "I am Father Philippe. I am here by order of the queen-mother and Henry of Guise. I have their authority. You are safe in fulfilling my commands. You know the aged Admiral Coliquy?" "Everyone in Paris knows him." "Do you know how fanatical a Huguenot he is, how dangerous to the true faith?" The lightning revealed a nod of assent. "Do you remember the vow you made in the cathedral before the thieves and murderers desecrated it? Are you true to that vow?" "Yes," to both questions. "Then listen. Coliquy must die. He is obtaining too strong an influence over the king. You must kill him. No matter when THE HUGUENOT. 411 or how. And hereby do I absolve you from the act, for it is commanded by the holy church." So saying, he placed his hand for a moment on the other's head, and whispered a few words in his ear. The man started in surprise. "Hush!" said the priest. "Not a word of this new information. That is for later development, and all for the glory of the church." With this they parted. Father Philippe again muffled himself in his cloak and walked rapidly toward his lodging. He had almost reached it when he encountered a man who was hurrying in the opposite direction. The priest had left his face uncovered, and a gleam of lightning revealed the two men to each other. "Eugene Latour, we have met none too soon. Defend yourself!" "I have no sword," answered the young man. "Why do you pick a quarrel with me?" "As an enemy to the church, you are my enemy." "Then meet me with the legitimate weapons of the church. Use scripture, reason, persuasion. Your sword is Satan's weapon, not God's." "Against Satan's creed all weapons are legitimate. Fire is fought with fire: why not spiritual with temporal death?" "Yours is the argument of Mohammed, not of Christ." Then with a significant look, which the lightning clearly revealed, he added: "And is it not possible that sensuality, another reputed argument of the Mohammedans, is urging you on?" The priest started violently, and grasped the sword-hilt. Latour laughed and turned away. "Hold!" exclaimed Philippe, seizing his cloak. "What means your insinuation?" "I have warrant not only for insinuation, but for accusation," answered Eugene, in the calmest possible voice. "You mean Marie — "I do. I know that you would not only drag your priestly robes in the mire, but her virtue as well. But, thank God, you are repellant — repulsive — to her!" "And you!" exclaimed the priest, stung by the taunting tone. 412 IMPROVEMENT ERA. "What would she think of a traitor and apostate? She is pure as snow, devout as an angel. The touch of a Huguenot she would esteem pollution." "Be it so," he thoughtfully answered. "All else I would willingly sacrifice for her except my faith. That is dearer to me even than she." ******** As he walked sadly and thoughtfully away, the priest's sardonic laughter followed him. The next night the aged Coliquy, leader of the Huguenots, was shot, but only slightly wounded. His followers swore vengeance. The Catholics must act quickly and decisively. Catharine summoned Father Philippe to the king's council-chamber. "Let the holy father counsel you for your soul's peace, my son," said she to the king. "His word is full of wisdom, and he knows how best to deal with traitorous heretics." The weak king listened in amazement to the plan of the priest. It was to make an attack simultaneously on all the Huguenots in the city of Paris, in order that none might be left to avenge the assault on Coliquy. It was urged with all possible vigor. "It is the only way," said the priest and the queen-mother in conclusion. "Make them to know that the church has no compromise with heresy, and they will repudiate error. But if they cling to heresy, there must still be no compromise. They must recant or die." "A wholesale butchery! " exclaimed the startled king. "I will hold out against it to the end of time!" "Bethink you of the service you would render the church,'' said the priest. "The blood of One has been shed for the church," replied the king. "The blood of thousands is not necessary." "By their blood alone can their polluting heresy be washed away. The death of the body will be the life of the soul." "The holy church needs not such a gory flood to carry her on to triumph. Rather would she be overwhelmed by it." "It is for the good of the heretics, as well as the benefit of the church. It is not that she may triumph, but that they may be saved." "Away with reason!" exclaimed the queen-mother, impatient THE HUGUENOT. 413 of the slow arguments of the priest. "Listen, son and king. If you are obdurate; if you refuse to do your duty and protect your state and the holy faith, another will fulfill your destiny. If I cannot command you for your good, your brother will obey me. For I swear to you that I will repudiate you as a son; that I will turn the influence of the Guises against you, that your brother Henry shall supersede you! It is a vow, and I have spoken it!" The young king gazed upon her in amazed appeal. But hers was the face of a statue, cold and immovable. In it he read his fate. He weakly yielded. "St. Bartholomew's day!" exclaimed the priest in triumph. "What more fitting or pleasing than that the day dedicated to the apostle who was flayed alive and crucified for the truth, shall be rendered more sacred by the destruction of heresy!" The king bowed his head upon his hands and wept; while the priest walked in proud triumph to the street. There he encountered Marie. He had seen her often since the day in the cathedral; had given way to blind, unreasoning passion in her presence. As she met him, she turned pale and would have fled from him; but he detained her. "You shall hear me!" he cried imperiously. "If not my love, you shall bear my hatred. If I have broken my vow and risked my salvation for love of you, another shall not enjoy what I have bought so dearly and lost. Eugene Latour is a Huguenot. He has lost his soul for bitter heresy, as I would lose mine for sweet love of thee." "Your word is false as you yourself!" she angrily exclaimed. "Eugene is true to the faith. Your word against him is my assurance for him." "I ask but this," he eagerly cried, "if you find my word true, will you yield to my love? My vow is not absolute. I may be absolved from it, and still be true to my faith. Together, we — "Silence!" she angrily interrupted. "The false friend would prove a false man. Far better the heresy of conviction than the heresy of expediency, both are damnable. Eugene is guilty of neither; you are guilty of the worse." She turned and fled from him, determined to hear from her lover's own lips denial or affirmation of the charge against him. 414 IMPROVEMENT ERA. For a week she sought him, but in vain. Disconsolate and disturbed, she returned to her lodging, on the last day of her search. The next day was the fatal 24th of August, St. Bartholomew's. III. That night she could not sleep. Strange dreams and stranger questionings, misgivings and premonitions of evil, disturbed her. Though ignorant of the impending massacre, she felt the depression which comes to sensitive natures, and forms a vague, general prophecy of evil. What sensitive one has not often lain awake on sultry summer nights, with thoughts ineffably sad, and rendered all the more impressive by the soughing wind, pregnant with sorrow? As the night wore on, her premonitions became unbearable. She arose, dressed herself, and sat by the window. She started to her feet as the midnight bell sounded. It was like a knell. She could no longer endure the imprisonment of her room. Passing into the street she tried to gain respite from her sad thoughts in the freedom of the open air. It was vain. Her thoughts followed her. Aimlessly she wandered, but unconsciously her mind led her toward her lover's home. On the way she met many armed men, with white scarfs on the left arm. She also saw many doors marked with a white cross, and wherever she knew the inmates, they were reputed Huguenots. When she neared her lover's door, she saw the white cross gleaming there. A new and terrible light began to enter her mind. As she stood there, hidden in the shadow, she saw a blackrobed figure glide stealthily past the door.It was Father Philippe, a pistol in his hand, a white scarf on his arm. Silently she followed him. He had walked two furlongs, when he suddenly turned round. The full moon was shining and he recognized her. He started guiltily, and would have avoided her, but it was too late. "I demand to know the meaning of these things," she exclaimed imperiously. "What mean the scarfs, crosses, weapons? Is some dark deed in contemplation, which shuns the light? Answer me! Only the guilty will start and tremble before the THE HUGUENOT. 415 innocent and inoffensive. Your thoughts are your accusers. What is the accusation?" Startled out of his composure at the suddenness of the apparition and the imperiousness of her questions, he hesitated, stammered; then seeing that his thoughts had been divined, and knowing that denial would be vain, he detailed the whole plot. As he proceeded he worked himself into a frenzy similar to the one in the cathedral. "Now comes the test!" he said. "We shall see if your lover will appear on the street with scarf and weapon. If so, his life will be spared; if not, he is a Huguenot, and you have said his act is damnable, and he must die!" She shuddered and wept. "There is one other chance —" he began, but she interrupted him scornfully. "It is the old story!" she said, checking her tears, her eyes blazing. "I may buy his life with my soul. If he is as you say, and cannot give his faith for life and me, dear though he is to me, I cannot give my virtue for him. If he prefers death to betrayal of faith, I prefer it to dishonor!" He greeted her answer with a scornful laugh. To throw him off his guard, she walked on to a diverging street, and then turned and ran to her lover's house. On the way she found a white scarf which had fallen from the arm of a drunken marauder. This she carried with her. Eugene Latour had been absent from his home for a week, attending meetings of the Huguenots in the provinces. He had returned at midnight. Marie's loud knocking at his door aroused him. "Who knocks?" he cried. "It is Marie," she answered eagerly. "0, Eugene, for your sake, for mine, let me in at once." He sprang from the couch on which he had thrown himself without undressing, and opened the door; Marie ran in, her cheeks flushed, her eyes blazing, her hair disheveled. "Eugene," she gasped, seizing his hand. —— "You are not a a Huguenot! Tell me you are not, my love. 0, deny the accusation!" "Why do you ask me the question at this time, in this excitement?" he calmly inquired. "0, my darling, this is no time for giving reasons; the 416 IMPROVEMENT ERA. moments are too precious. Only deny the rumor; that is all I ask." "But if I cannot deny it — "Cannot! Cannot! Is it true then?" She fell on her knees before him; and in his eyes the sobbing girl read the truth. One moment only did a revulsion of feeling seize her. Wise indeed was he who first gave voice to the proverb, Amor omnia vincit; for love does conquer all things — else it would not be love. Heresy, apostasy, treason — all the crimes she had associated with the Huguenots — gave way before her love for him and her knowledge of his danger. "Bring your sword," she said with enforced calmness. As he obeyed her, she took the scarf and tried to fasten it on his arm. "Hold, Marie," he gently remonstrated. "I have never worn an emblem without knowing its meaning. What is the meaning of this?" "Why do you ask? Can you not trust me?" "With all else but my faith and loyalty. That I must trust to God alone." Then she burst forth into wild pleading. "Eugene, this night, this very hour, you are to die. All the Huguenots are doomed. Father Philippe is thirsting for your blood. Even now he is prowling before the door, awaiting the signal. There is but one way of escape. If not for your own, for my sake, accept the means of safety!" His angry, reproachful glance smote her like a lash. "I do not ask you to renouce your faith!" she hastily exclaimed. "Only appear thus upon the street for one brief moment, and you will be spared to me and happiness. 0, if even the means of escape were foul, could you not use it to escape so foul a murder?" "The means would be all foul, did it not come from one so pure and fair. But hallowed though it is by your love for me, I cannot accept it. Marie, I cannot live for love and you; I must die for truth and God." Wildly but vainly, she pleaded. He was obdurate. In the midst of her entreaties the clamor of a bell burst upon the air. Another and another, and then scores of peals answered. Eugene broke from her detaining grasp, went to the window, and opened THE HUGUENOT. All the shutters. Bands of men, some bearing torches, others, weapons, were rushing along the streets. Lights were seen gleaming anew in all the houses on the opposite side of the way. Already the streets were resounding with the cries of victims. A pistol shot rang out, and a ball pierced the window glass and whizzed past Eugene's head. Instantly Marie sprang between him and the window, struggling fiercely to force him back. Her struggle was vain. As he stepped aside for a moment, another shot was fired, and a shock and a tremor stiffened all his muscles. He had been struck. As he straightened up, the shutter was violently closed by the wind. He sank to the floor, but his assailant did not see him fall. With wonderful self-control, Marie bent over him, and saw that his wound was not serious, though it had temporarily paralyzed him. Then a desperate resolve was formed in her mind. She would impersonate him. She saw his long cloak and soft hat on the wall. She hastily wrapped his cloak around her, and drew his hat well over her face. Then tying the white scarf on her left arm, and seizing his sword, she passed into the street, locking the door behind her, and joined a band of marauders. So well did she impersonate the movements of the man she loved, that even Philippe was deceived. He stood looking after her in amazement until one of his companions called him to the work of As soon as he was away from view, Marie returned and if:******* slaughter. nursed her lover back to consciousness. The story of that night is written in blood. The venerable Coliquy died, pierced with the daggers of Guise's hired assassins. Thousands of Huguenots in Paris and throughout France shared his fate. Scarcely two years later, the king died, an insane victim of terrible remorse. Hundreds of others, in whose ears the dying shrieks of their victims would continue to ring, suffered the same death as the king. Among these was Father Philippe. After Eugene recovered from his wound, he went from Paris to one of the provinces. Marie went with him, for the scenes of that terrible night had produced in her a strong revulsion of feeling, and she became a Huguenot when she became his wife. Not many years later, they emerged from the trouble and turmoil of religious persecution, into the peace and tranquility which followed the accession to the throne of Henry of Navarre.