The, French envoy in the Netherlands was, of course, immediately informed by his sovereign of the great event:  Charles IX. gave a very pithy account of the transaction.  “To prevent the success of the enterprise planned by the Admiral,” wrote the King on the 26th of August, with hands yet reeking, and while the havoc throughout France was at its height, “I have been obliged to permit the said Guises to rush upon the said Admiral,—­which they have done, the said Admiral having been killed and all his adherents.  A very great number of those belonging to the new religion have also been massacred and cut to pieces.  It is probable that the fire thus kindled will spread through all the cities of my kingdom, and that all those of the said religion will be made sure of.”  Not often, certainly, in history, has a Christian king spoken thus calmly of butchering his subjects while the work was proceeding all around him.  It is to be observed, moreover, that the usual excuse for such enormities, religious fanaticism, can not be even suggested on this occasion.  Catharine, in times past had favored Huguenots as much as Catholics, while Charles had been, up to the very moment of the crime, in strict alliance with the heretics of both France and Flanders, and furthering the schemes of Orange and Nassau.  Nay, even at this very moment, and in this very letter in which he gave the news of the massacre, he charged his envoy still to maintain the closest but most secret intelligence with the Prince of Orange; taking great care that the Duke of Alva should not discover these relations.  His motives were, of course, to prevent the Prince from abandoning his designs, and from coming to make a disturbance in France.  The King, now that the deed was done, was most anxious to reap all the fruits of his crime.  “Now, M. de Mondoucet, it is necessary in such affairs,” he continued, “to have an eye to every possible contingency.  I know that this news will be most agreeable to the Duke of Alva, for it is most favorable to his designs.  At the same time, I don’t desire that he alone should gather the fruit.  I don’t choose that he should, according to his excellent custom, conduct his affairs in such wise as to throw the Prince of Orange upon my hands, besides sending back to France Genlis and the other prisoners, as well as the French now shut up in Mons.”

This was a sufficiently plain hint, which Mondoucet could not well misunderstand.  “Observe the Duke’s countenance carefully when you give him this message,” added the King, “and let me know his reply.”  In order, however, that there might be no mistake about the matter, Charles wrote again to his ambassador, five days afterwards, distinctly stating the regret which he should feel if Alva should not take the city of Mons, or if he should take it by composition.  “Tell the Duke,” said he, “that it is most important for the service of his master and of God that those Frenchmen and others in Mons should be cut in pieces.”