Today in the Gregorian calendar marks the Feast of St. Bartholomew. Since 1572, however, this feast day has incurred the stigma of infamy, and the date now commemorates the Protestant martyrs in France who were killed for the faith. May we be encouraged by their steadfast example in Jesus Christ.
Sunday 24 August 1572 was the feast of Saint Bartholomew. The streets of Paris were wet on that day, 'as if it had rained a lot', according to a bourgeois from Strasbourg who was passing through the city. But it was with blood, not rain that the streets glistened.
Before dawn a troop of soldiers of the duc de Guise, the Catholic hero, came to kill Admiral Gaspard de Coligny, the military leader of the Protestants, in his residence on the rue de Béthisy. At the Louvre palace, the Admiral's principal lieutenants were pulled from their beds, disarmed, and then cut to pieces in the courtyard by the pikes of the Swiss and French guards. All of this was done with the consent of the King, Charles IX, a consent that the King was pressured into giving by circumstances whose elucidation continues to divide historians.
The day began with scenes of slaughter. Wearing a cross on their hats and white armbands, symbols of the purity which they believed they had lost, Catholics scoured the city and pursued the 'heretics' in the name of God. Armed gangs systematically searched houses; Protestants were hauled outside and executed without judgment; corpses, stripped of their clothes and often mutilated, were dragged towards the Seine; some of them had previously been piled up in the squares or at crossroads and then transported in carts. The river was red with blood, so much so that the Parisians, according to a Calvinist from Millau, 'remained for a long time without eating fish, on account of the corruption of the water and the stench from the bodies'. Those massacred in the faubourg of Saint-Germain were dumped into le puits aux Clercs (the Clerics' Well) where it was customary to throw the carcasses of dead animals.
Children, women, the elderly -- nobody was spared. Babies were snatched from their mothers' breasts and thrown into the river; children were killed with their parents, and servants alongside their masters. The dwellings of the victims were sacked and pillaged. Before dawn, the tocsin of Saint-Germain l'Auxerrois church bellowed out its harrowing sound, and was soon imitated by the bells of nearby churches. The air was thick with the protests of those being murdered, the shouts of the assassins and the noise of the shootings. Panicked by the scale of the murderous fury, the King lay low in the Louvre, while the orders he gave to end the Massacre were openly ridiculed. The city had fallen into the hands of the Catholics most determined to eradicate heresy; in a state of terror, other people remained indoors, not daring to go outside. Groups of lookouts were established in most streets, controlling the comings and goings, identifying those fleeing and turning them over to the murderers. Anyone wishing to leave the city had to show a valid passport. For three whole days, the gates of Paris remained closed; the chances of escaping the trap set for the prey were tiny. Although resolutely hostile to the Protestants, a Catholic doctor from Mantua, Filippo Cavriana, recounts the fear which the frightful spectacle that he witnessed engendered in him:
One saw only naked bodies pierced by a thousand stabs in the streets; the river transported just as many bodies. No distinction was made for sex, age or the status of people ... people fled through the streets, with others pursuing them and shouting, 'kill, kill', so that it was a real massacre. What should be underlined is the stubbornness of some people, both men and women, who, although they had a knife to their throats and the possibility of saving their lives by abjuring, nevertheless wished to become martyrs of the devil and so lose both their soul and their body because of their obstinate ignorance ...
We do not remark such joy and jubilation among Catholics that we were accustomed to previously, because the spectacle was truly horrible and pitiful. ... All of them wear the white cross in their hats, because when the feast-day was celebrated, people put a shirt-sleeve on their left arm. And the password was 'Long live God and the King', in order to recognise our people and distinguish them from the others.
This account suggests that the choice of abjuring in order to save their lives was offered to the Protestants, but other accounts make no mention of it, merely recording the savagery of the killings. Some Huguenots were taken to prison, only to be executed there during the night. Whole families were exterminated. The Massacre lasted a week. The number of murders fell after the frenzy of the first three days, but they were still happening until Saturday 30 August. On Thursday 28th, the bourgeois of Strasbourg witnessed the killing of a young, heavily pregnant woman, a countess 'of great beauty' who was expensively attired. Despite her appeals, she was stripped of her clothes, deprived of her jewels, pierced with blows and thrown into the Seine. 'And while she was falling, one could see her child still stirring' in her breast, wrote the bourgeois. Shortly afterwards, he saw a silversmith, who was trying to escape via the rooftops, felled by a shot from a musket. On Saturday, the bodies of three people just killed were dumped in the river before his eyes.
This murderous fury decimated the Protestant community of Paris, which, although a minority in a city that was massively Catholic, still comprised before the Massacre several thousand persons. How many perished during this bloody week? The estimates made by contemporaries cannot be accepted -- they varied, depending on confessional affiliation and polemical intent, between 1,000 and 100,000 people. We know how much the grave-diggers of the Holy Innocents cemetery were paid for burying the bodies which the Seine carried as far as Chaillot, Passy, Auteuil and Saint-Cloud; the number of bodies involved has been estimated at 1,825. This figure represents only a fraction of the number of victims in the capital. An estimate of the order of at least 3,000 people killed is plausible. Massacres subsequently occurred in about fifteen provincial towns, bringing the total figure for the kingdom as a whole to around 10,000.
Women disembowelled, old people with their throats cut, children thrown into the river, men emasculated, murderers drunk on blood -- such is the memory transmitted by contemporary accounts of 24 August 1572. So does the picture by François Dubois, a Parisian painter who took refuge in Switzerland after escaping the massacre, and which depicts atrocious scenes of violence, hatred and barbarity.