HENRY OF NAVARRE
JUNE 1st, 1575. Several matters of business detained my dear father in Antwerp longer than he or we expected; but he came at last, bringing the recovered books which, thanks to Truyken's care in packing, have suffered very little from damp or mildew. I cannot find words to express our joy at having once more a whole Bible, larger and in better condition than the one dear old Jacob Anderzon loved and studied so well, and many of the writings of Master Martin Luther. And we may now read them openly, and in broad daylight, for Holland is free. The power of the terrible Inquisition is broken, and the haughty Philip of Spain is no longer master of the Netherlands. All that we suffered during the siege of Leyden seems but little when we think of the great joy that is now ours. No one is compelled to attend mass, and great numbers, who had not openly declared themselves on the side of the reformed faith, have given up doing so, and attend service in the Protestant churches; while hardly a week passes without some pastor, who had been obliged to fly from the country to escape arrest, being welcomed back by his old friends.
Father did not return alone, and though mother was in the secret, I did not even guess at the delightful surprise he was going to give me. He brought with him my old friend and playmate, Paul von Brock, still lame, but a tall, blue-eyed youth of eighteen. He is to be one of the first students in the University, the walls of which are rising, and our home will be his; for he has lost both parents. Soon after we left Antwerp, his father was arrested on the charge of heresy, and died in prison only a few hours before the time on which his trial before the court of the Inquisition was to have taken place. His widow, who had never been strong, drooped and died, the neighbors said from grief, in less than three months after the death of her husband. Paul was quite alone in the world, but his youth and friendlessness touched the heart of a merchant, who was, though at the time secretly, a friend to the reformed faith, and he gave Paul some light employment in his counting-house, and though more than once he himself stood in danger of arrest for having dared to give shelter to the son of a heretic, he would send Paul into the country for a few weeks, and when the storm had blown over, Paul was again at his old desk in the office.
He is more ardently attached to the reformed faith than ever, and is delighted at the prospect of being able to study under the professors who are expected to hold classes and give lectures in the University, as his great desire is to become a pastor; though sometimes I think he would have chosen the work of a colporteur, his lameness would render it almost impossible for him to take the long journeys over moors and mountains that fall to the lot of these brave and faithful men.
I must not forget to write down something else over which we all rejoice greatly. Father will remain with us in Leyden, as the prince has appointed him steward to the new University; and we are already looking forward to the time when, as we hope, in the long evenings, little knots of students will assemble in our house to read and study the word of God.
During the long and dangerous illness of the prince, father was sent as the bearer of important dispatches into France, where he remained for some weeks in the suite of Prince Henry of Navarre, and learned so much about the boyhood of the brave young nobleman, that Paul and I feel almost as if we ourselves knew and loved him. He is at present the leader of the Protestant party in. France; and it is not unlikely that one day he will occupy the throne. Great things are hoped from him; but father fears that some at least of his friends will be bitterly disappointed. The young prince is a brave soldier, and has much in his natural disposition to win affection and command respect; but his desire to please, and to be on the best of terms with every one, may lead him into slippery places.
He was the third son of Antoine and Jeanne de Bourbon; the two baby princes who had preceded him had both died before reaching the age of two years; the firstborn had been given into the care of a middle-aged lady of good family, whose one great fear appears to have been that her little charge should "catch cold." Large fires were kept burning by night and day in the royal nurseries; the windows were seldom if ever opened; and even on a bright summer's day it was not thought safe to take the baby into the fresh air; so the little prince grew paler and weaker, till at last he drooped and died, like some sickly hothouse plant.
The second son might have fared better, but was killed through the carelessness of a nurse, who let him fall down a steep flight of stairs. Their grandfather, King Henry of Beam and Navarre, was disappointed, as he began to fear there would be no male heir to his throne, so he got his daughter Jeanne, who had been married to a prince of the house of Bourbon, to promise that if she had a third son, she would allow him to have the child brought up as he thought best. So when in 1553 the infant Prince Henry was born, his grandfather claimed him when only a few hours old, and lifting him in his arms rubbed the baby's lips with a clove of garlic; then gave him a drop of wine from a golden cup, saying as he did so, "There, thou shalt be a true Bearnais." This, father says, was an old custom common in France, and supposed to make the little prince strong and healthy.
The nurse chosen for him was not a high-born lady, but a sturdy peasant woman, who was ordered by his grandfather to take him to her own home among the mountains, and bring him up as simply as she would had he been her own child. And so the little Henry of Navarre grew from a delicate baby into a bonny, healthy boy. "He had," says an old writer, "few toys, and no flattery, but his childhood was a very happy one; he was allowed to run about all day among the mountains, bareheaded and barefooted, his friends and playfellows were the peasant children around, and he shared all the fun and frolic of the village boys.”
When Henry was little more than two years old, his grandfather died, and his father, under the title of King Antoine, succeeded in right of his wife to the throne of Navarre. At that time a great struggle was going on between the Roman Catholics and the Protestants, who were gaining both in numbers and influence. King Antoine was looked up to as a leader among the Huguenots, as the French Protestants are called. His wife, a lady of great ability and noble character, seemed for a time uncertain which were in the right. But if she did not grasp the truth quickly, when once received, she held it firmly, and after a time became one of the most ardent and devoted friends of the Reformation. But as the wife went forward, the husband went backward; his old Roman Catholic friends were very anxious to have him on their side, and spared neither bribes nor flattery. In the end they succeeded only too well; he first grew lukewarm, then openly went over to the Roman Catholics; he tried in every way to induce his wife, the Queen of Navarre, to go to mass with him, and when she refused tried by threats and even blows to force her to do so; but she stood firmly; for with her it was a question of loyalty to Christ.
As Henry grew older his mother was able sometimes to have him with her, and the affection between mother and son was very strong. The boy was devoted to his mother, and she not only took great pains with his education, but lost no opportunity of teaching him the truths she had learned to love.
On one occasion the boy was present when his father was trying by force to compel his wife to attend mass; he sprang to his mother's side, and tried to defend her from the cruelty of her husband. King Antoine was very angry, and commanded Henry's tutor to give him a sound whipping; but it did not shake the boy's loyalty to his mother. It was a sad day for both when Henry's father decided he should be sent to France, to be educated with his cousins, the Dukes of Guise. They parted with tears, and Henry promised his mother he would never forget what she had taught him, and that he would refuse to attend mass, a promise which the poor boy must have found very hard to keep; he loved his mother dearly and wished to do what would please her, but with him it was his mother's God, his mother's faith, not his own.
It was a gay, pleasure-loving court in which the young prince found himself. Every day he saw and heard things of which he knew his mother would disapprove. The young king of France, Charles IX, was a youth of thirteen, and his mother, the haughty and cruel Catherine de Medici, had things very much her own way. Like everyone else she took a fancy to the bright, fearless little prince, of whom even his cousins found it hard to be jealous, he was so kind and generous, so ready to please and be pleased.
King Antoine died in 1562, and his mother paid a visit to the French court, in the hope that her boy would be allowed to return to her and grow up under her care. But she was coldly received, and Catherine flatly refused to give the boy up, and so she had to return alone.
Soon after the Court paid a visit to Bayonne on the borders of Spain. Balls, shows and amusements of all kinds were provided, but a great deal of plotting was going on. The Queen Mother, as Catherine was called, held long interviews with the Duke of Alva. No statesmen or counselors were present, but Henry, then a boy of eleven, was allowed to run in and out as he pleased; no one thought he would listen or understand, but he did both, for his quick ear had caught the word "Huguenots," and he knew they were his mother's people. He heard the duke say, "We must kill the heretics; kill them all. No one who has ever held that religion ought to be left alive.”
These talks were the Foreshadowings of the terrible massacre of St. Bartholomew's, which a few years later filled all Europe with such horror. The bright, quick-witted young prince understood enough to know that his mother and her chosen friends were in danger, for were they not all Huguenots? Going to one of the Protestant gentlemen about the court, the boy told him what he had heard; a letter of warning written in cypher was sent to the Queen of Navarre, and though the courage and presence of mind of her little son did not prevent the murder of thousands of French Protestants, there is no room for doubt that it was delayed by the Protestant leaders having been put on their guard.