No. 48 Gaspard de Châtillon, Sire de Coligny
GRAND AMIRAL DE FRANCE.
BORN 1517, MURDERED 1572.
Black dress. Black hat.
He was the son of Jean de Châtillon, Sire de Coligny, and was born at the ancestral estate of Châtillon-sur-Loing. His mother was Louise de Montmorency; his father dying when he was quite a child, the guardianship devolved on Gaspard’s maternal uncle, the celebrated Connetâble de Montmorency. The boy was educated in the Roman Catholic religion, and he showed much talent and intelligence, but rather drew back from distinguishing himself, lest his family should insist on his entering the Church, a step to which he was much averse.
He showed, on the contrary, an early predilection for a military career, and the King (Henry II.), whose favour he had gained, appointed him, while still young, to a high post in the army. Coligny, when at Court, had formed a close intimacy with François Duc de Guise, and joining the army together, they were for some time inseparable brothers-in-arms. In De Coligny’s first campaign he was twice severely wounded, and also made prisoner of war; he served in Flanders, in Italy, in Picardy, etc. etc. His courage and endurance were proverbial, and when intrusted with diplomatic negotiations he showed great ability. In 1552-3 he was appointed Lord High Admiral of France, and about two years afterwards he, with the royal consent, vacated his military command in favour of his well-loved brother and brave comrade, François de Coligny (better known as D’Andelot), and returned to his home and family at Châtillon, where he gave himself up for some time to theological studies, more particularly to the investigation of the doctrines of the Reformed Church. This was done at the earnest request of his brother, who had become a Huguenot. His conversion was owing to the perusal of several religious books on the subject, procured for him while a prisoner of war at Milan. The Admiral was not slow in following D’Andelot’s example, and he became an ardent proselyte, although the fear lest the step should prove disadvantageous to his family prevented him from making an open profession at first. But Gaspard de Coligny was not a man for half-measures, and ere long he stood forth as a staunch champion of the Huguenot party, only second in importance to the Prince de Condé. He spent large sums of money in establishing reformed colonies in Florida and Brazil (neither of which were long-lived), and he memorialised the King to allow the Huguenots freedom of worship, and to grant them exemption from many persecutions. An edict was passed which seemed favourable to this oppressed people, but it was not of long duration. The murder of a Huguenot by one of the Guise faction again lit the flame, and the war was resumed. At the first call to arms, Coligny hastened to join the Prince de Condé, then Generalissimo of the Huguenot army, and the two friends took the field together, against the Duke of Guise.
For some time fortune smiled first on one, and then on the other side of the opponents, until the battle of Dreux, where the Duke of Guise was victorious and marched off in triumph to Orleans. But his days were numbered. At the moment of giving orders for storming the town, a shot fired by Poltrot de Mery, a Huguenot enthusiast, struck him down in his tent, mortally wounded. There were not found wanting some who dared accuse the noble Coligny of being the instigator of this deed; but few of either party gave credence to so foul a calumny, although the Guise faction made it a plea for hunting their enemy even to the death.
Another religious truce, and Coligny once more disbanded his soldiers, and returned to his beloved Châtillon. Another outbreak, when the Huguenots, confirmed in the opinion that the Queen-Mother, Catherine of Medicis, was their deadly enemy, formed a project to possess themselves of the person of the young King, which failed. In the meantime the wily Catherine ‘babbled of peace,’ and strove by every means in her power to allure Condé and Coligny to Paris—an invitation they wisely refused. The Huguenots had acquired a valuable ally in the person of Jeanne d’Albret, Queen of Navarre, sole daughter and heir of the late King, and widow of Antoine de Bourbon, Duc de Vendôme. This Princess, called when a child ‘La Mignonne des Rois,’ from the tender love which her father and her uncle (Francis I.) both bore her, was remarkable for her courage, her judgment, and her devotion to the tenets of the Reformed Church. She had arrived from the Pyrenees with a large escort and a considerable sum, (realised by the sale of her jewels,) to join the Huguenot camp, and swell its treasure. She was accompanied by her son Henry, Prince de Béarn, (afterwards Henry IV.,) about fourteen years of age, who pleaded earnestly, though vainly, to be allowed then and there to flesh his maiden sword. A terrible blow awaited the Huguenots in the death of their leader, the great Condé, who was slain at the battle of Jarnac, in 1655. Jeanne d’Albret did all in her power to raise their drooping spirits, and entering the camp in person, with her son on one side, and the young Prince de Condé on the other,—‘My friends,’ she said, ‘here are two new chiefs with whom God has provided you, two orphans I intrust to your care.’
Coligny, indeed, acted the part of a second father to the young Prince de Béarn, who studied the art of war under this great master, and did him early honour, for at a time when Coligny was invalided, the young warrior took the command of the army and greatly distinguished himself. Time passed on; the Queen, Catherine, having matured a terrible plan for the ruin of the Huguenots, set about bringing it to bear. She negotiated a marriage between Henry, then heir to the throne of Navarre, and the Princess Margaret, sister to the King of France. The hitherto prudent Jeanne d’Albret fell into the snare, and repaired to Paris with her betrothed son, in order to consummate a union that promised so many advantages for all parties concerned. Her example was followed by Coligny, whose reception at Court was as flattering as the wily Italian thought prudent. The young King, well tutored, assured the Admiral by his mother it was the happiest day of his life, and offered him as a bait a high command in Flanders. The Huguenots flocked to the capital in numbers, and there were only a comparative few, who still harboured any suspicion. To the friendly warnings he received, Coligny replied, ‘I am resigned, it shall all be as God pleases.’
One of his own household, after striving in vain to persuade his master to seek safety at Châtillon, or at least to be allowed, himself, to leave Paris, was asked what he feared. ‘Ils vous font trop de caresses,’ was the wise reply.
The preparations for the marriage were not concluded ere the sudden death of his beloved mother overwhelmed the fiancé with deep sorrow. But he was allowed no time to indulge his natural grief, for the nuptials were hastened.
There were rumours of poison, but the matter was hushed; the next incident that was calculated to alarm the Huguenots was the attempted assassination of the Admiral. A miscreant, supposed to be a creature of the Duchess of Nemours, (widow of the Duke of Guise, who died at Orleans,) fired a shot from an arquebuse, as Coligny was passing a window, and wounded him in the right hand and left arm.
But the time had not yet arrived. The King hastened to the Admiral’s house, Rue de Béthisy, now Rue des Fossés, to inquire, to sympathise, and to condole, promising that the assassin should be brought to justice. Whether De Coligny’s eyes were opened at last or not, it was now too late.
On the night of the Feast of St. Bartholomew, the Duke of Guise, at the head of a body of men, forced the door of Coligny’s house, and killed the guard, while a Bohemian, by name Behme, rushed up to the Admiral’s bedchamber. Awaked by the noise, the man who had braved danger in almost every form, opened the door, and stood face to face with the intruder. Being asked if he were the Sire de Coligny, he replied in the affirmative, and then added, ‘Jeune homme, respectez mes cheveux blancs.’ The miscreant’s only answer was by a sword-thrust on the head, then seizing his victim by the heels, he dragged him to the window, and flung him headlong into the court below, at the feet of the Duke of Guise. This brutal man kicked his expiring enemy several times, and then delivered him up to the mob, who tore him to pieces. The body was gibbeted at Montfaucon, and the King went to look at it, saying, with the Emperor Vitellius, ‘that a dead enemy is not a horrible sight, and does not smell bad.’ The Admiral’s faithful servants carried off the corpse at great personal risk, and buried it at Châtillon, but it was afterwards transported to Maupertuis, whose proprietor caused a grand monument to be erected. Thus died this brave and noble man, after a life full of vicissitude, leaving behind him a name dear to all lovers of human greatness and goodness, whatever their creed or nation.
As a general he was not reckoned successful, yet so energetic and skilful at ‘reparation,’ that De Coligny was considered more dangerous after defeat ‘than his enemies after victory.’
Although a staunch disciplinarian, he was much beloved by his soldiery on account of his benevolence and consideration. He spoke and wrote well, and was the author of several works, some of which are still extant.
Gaspard de Coligny was twice married—first to Charlotte de Laval, daughter of Guy, fifteenth of that name, Comte de Laval, by Antoinette de Daillon, by whom he had several sons and daughters. The circumstances attending his second marriage are of so remarkable and romantic a nature that we cannot pass them over in silence. Jacqueline de Montbel was the daughter and sole heir of a noble and wealthy Savoyard, the Comte d’Entremonts, and widow of Claude de Bastarnai, Comte de Bonchage. She was moreover a zealous Huguenot, and the reputation of Coligny, as the champion of that persecuted party, and the fame of his valour and piety, had so inflamed the fancy of the beautiful Savoyarde, that even before they had ever met, she conceived an unconquerable passion for the far-famed hero. The Duke of Savoy was very much averse to the marriage, probably wishing to retain the lady and her wealth within the precincts of his own dominions. He therefore caused her to be watched, but woman’s wit eluded his vigilance; the Comtesse Jacqueline escaped to La Rochelle, and bestowed her hand on the man she had chosen from the world beside. The Duke of Savoy, enraged at her disobedience, seized on the lady’s estates.
About the same time Louise, Coligny’s daughter by his first wife, was united to M. de Téligny, ‘un simple gentilhomme, de la compagnie de l’Amiral de Châtillon.’ He was much beloved by his father-in-law, whose fate he shared, being also murdered on the day of St. Bartholomew; Louise survived, to become the wife of William of Nassau, Prince of Orange.
There is a curious historical parallel between more than one circumstance in the lives of these two heroes, both heads of the Huguenot party, both beloved, from their reputation alone, by noble and beautiful women, and both victims of a cruel murder. By De Coligny, Jacqueline had a posthumous daughter named Beatrice; we cannot close this brief notice without inserting a translation of the characteristic epitaph which was written in Latin:—
‘Ci gissent les os de Gaspard de Coligny, Grand Amiral de France, Seigneur de Châtillon, son âme est dans le sein de Celui pour lequel il combattit avec tant de constance.’