jected, and seeing the duke's confessor going out, he said, "that the duke was much happier than himself in having heard mass that day, as a preparation for what might occur." He hated Catherine de Medicis, and said on one occasion, that the best thing he could do for France would be to throw her into the sea in a sack; and he might probably have fulfilled his purpose, had it not been for the opposition of the Duke of Guise. The Chancellor de L'Hopital was the man of the highest principle and most liberal views among the Roman Catholic party. Brantôme calls him the Cato of his age, and compares him with Sir Thomas More. He upheld the divine right of kings in its strongest sense, yet made more advances towards toleration and liberty of conscience than any of his fellow ministers; but the sentiments of a single individual, however noble and enlightened, were easily overborne by a host of persecuting courtiers; and the pope offered Charles 100,000 crowns of church property, if he would "confine the chancellor within four walls." De L'Hopital was suspected of being a Hugonot at heart, though he never showed any tendency to their doctrines; and some of the Romanists were heard to say, "The Lord deliver us from the chancellor's mass !" At the head of all these various powers, Charles IX. found himself the nominal King of France, at the age of eleven years, with the expectation of obtaining his legal majority at thirteen. Few princes received a worse education in childhood; and few kings have ever been called upon to rule a more corrupt court even in the prime of manhood. His early education was intrusted to Du Perron, from whom, among other accomplishments, he learnt to swear outrageously; "not like a gentleman," says Brantome, who occasionally lets fall an oath, "but like a catchpole, when he seizes his victim." To this habit of profane swearing we may attribute the disregard of solemn engagements, and the tendency to break his faith which characterized the life of Charles. He was less dissipated and more inclined to manly amusements than might have been expected from his circumstances; but his temper was violent, and he was easily led by his mother and her associates: he ought to be considered rather as the instrument of a party, than their leader; and as he only lived to the age of twenty-five, we cannot suppose that his authority was much felt, or that he is the person really responsible for the atrocities committed in his name. While the destinies of France seemed to fluctuate between the two contending parties, a foreigner appeared upon the scene, who was the real mover of the greatest enormities, and the evil genius of Catherine; we mean the Duke of Alva. Till long after the death of Francis II., the queen seemed undecided between two opinions; she appeared to balance Condé against Guise, and Beza against Lorraine; but circumstances, in an evil hour for France, brought her under the influence of the dark, designing, treacherous, and bloodthirsty Spaniard, who seemed, like some brilliant but poisonous serpent, to fascinate his victim to the destruction of her principles and the perversion of her conscience. Elizabeth, the daughter of Catherine, had been engaged to Don Carlos of Spain, but had afterwards married his father Philip II. The court of France, with Catherine at its head, visited the court of Spain at Bayonne, in the month of June, 1565. Here was a grand opportunity for the display of all the pomp and splendor in which Catherine so much delighted. The queen travelled from town to town, accompanied by forty or fifty of her young ladies, mounted on beautiful haquenées with splendid trappings. "To imagine these scenes," says Brantome, "one must have seen this lovely troop, one more richly and bravely attired than another, shining in those magnificent assemblies, like stars in the clear azure of heaven; for the queen expected them to appear in full dress, though she herself was attired as a widow, and in silk of the gravest colors; still she was elegant and enchanting, ever appearing the queen of all; she rode with extreme grace, the ladies following with plumes floating in the air, so that Virgil when he describes Queen Dido going to the chase has never imagined anything comparable to Queen Catherine and her attendants." This graphic writer minutely describes the beauties of the court, but gives the highest praise to Margaret of Valois, the future queen of Henry IV. The brilliant cavalcade arrived at Bayonne, and was entertained by Elizabeth and the Duke of Alva. The King of Spain was absent, but Alva attended, ostensibly for the purpose of presenting the order of the Golden Fleece to Charles IX., but really with the intention of establishing a secret influence over the mind of Catherine, and with the determination to induce her to renew in France the persecutions of the late reign, and to imitate the cruelty which Philip had countenanced in England, and which he himself afterwards devised and executed in his sanguinary persecution of the Protestants of Holland. The connection of Philip with England has already too well fixed his history in our minds; his object was to exterminate heresy by fire and sword, and to extinguish political and religious liberty in his own dominions, and in the rest of the world. Alva was an agent singularly well qualified to carry out the designs of his master; he was barbarously cruel, but cold and dispassionate, not the less dangerous because alike incapable of tenderness or rage; he seized his victim like some vast machine, and crushed him to pieces with the certainty and coldness of a complicated series of wheels and pulleys, breaking his limbs with remorseless power, and insensible to his cries and indifferent to his resistance. Living in an age of dissimulation, the Duke of Alva was certainly not a hypocrite; he openly avowed his belief that no toleration ought to be extended to those who should dissent from the religion of the king; he stated his determination to spare neither age nor sex, and, like some political economists, coolly argued on his right to exterminate as if he were demonstrating an abstract proposition, quite distinct from human rights, or the sufferings of mankind. In the midst of feasts, tournaments, processions, dancing parties, and illuminations, the wily Spaniard managed to spend a certain portion of every night in the apartments of the Queen of Spain. Thither Catherine used to repair to meet him, through a private gallery; and while the rest of the gay party of courtiers were sleeping after the fatigues of a day of pleasure, the queen and the duke were consulting upon the best method of governing France. The wily Spaniard laid it down as a principle that two religions cannot co-exist in the same state; that no prince could do a more pernicious thing as regarded himself than to permit his people to live according to their consciences; that there are as many religions in the world as there are caprices in the human mind, and that to give them free license is only to open a door to confusion and treason; that religious controversy is only another name for popular insurrection; and that all indulgence only increases the disorder. The queen, it appears, was averse to sanguinary measures; she was desirous of restoring her subjects to the bosom of the Church, but wished to do it by fair means. She spoke of the strength of the principles of the Hugonots, admitted the inconvenience of conflicting opinions, but declared her intention of reaching her object by a circuitous route; she said the port was distant and the sea difficult of navigation, she must therefore be satisfied not to steer a straight course; that it is safer to weaken the opposing power by degrees, than to attempt to stifle a flame too suddenly, as it may then burst out into a violent conflagration. These sentiments it was Alva's business to combat. He had received absolution for making war upon the pope, and was of course anxious to give a compensation for his late sins. The pope had recommended a repetition of the Sicilian Vespers, and while the queen was cautious, Alva pressed her to proceed boldly and make away with the chiefs; he said in the hearing of Henry IV., (then a child of eleven years old,) that "one salmon was well worth a hundred frogs." It seems, then, from the best contemporary authority, which is quoted at large by our author, that the plan of a general massacre was now considered advisable if opportunity should offer; that Alva persuaded the queen, contrary to her better judgment, that destruction of heretics was both lawful and politic; and that while she herself might have been contented with indirect persecution, double taxation, legal restraint, and the occasional execution of a troublesome leader on feigned pretexts, nothing less than final extirpation was sufficient to satisfy the agent of the pope. The young king was not exempt from the temptations of the Duke of Alva; he seems at this meeting to have been familiarized with notions from which in his better moments he must have shrunk with horror. The Queen of Navarre, the most zealous Hugonot of her day, perceived the change in Charles during the return of the expedition. It is hard to ascertain that any definite plan was arranged for the destruction of the Hugonots: the massacre of St. Bartholomew must have arisen out of circumstances; but this much seems clear, that the Duke of Alva prepared the minds of Catherine and Charles to betray and murder the most innocent portion of their subjects, as soon as a convenient opportunity should offer; and having thus broken down the barrier of conscience in the rulers of France, he himself repaired to Holland, where his fierce persecution of the Protestants has handed down his name to us as one of the most cruel and unrelenting agents of the Church of Rome. Let us now consider the party opposed to the court, the Hugonots and their leaders. Here we may easily trace one of the great causes of the failure of the cause of Protestantism in France. The whole history presents 66 and devotion to the cause of Protestantism; and to her early care may be traced the formation of the character of her celebrated son Henry IV. As long, however, as her husband lived, her powers seem to have been shackled, and her influence lost. stance of the evils which arise, when second-rate "Anthony (says our author) is a striking inability, combined with weakness of moral principle and instability of temper, is elevated to influential situations. The vacillations of his selfish fears and calculations, aided by jealousy, that demon of weak minds, did more to ruin France true is it, that states and families may perish as surely, through the timidity, meanness, and want of spirit in their leaders, as through the greatest excesses of ill-directed energy."--Vol i. p. 81. us with a narrative of a political scheme rather than a religious movement. We believe true religion was never yet propagated by the sword. The weapons of our warfare are not carnal," though they are mighty. God has appointed a way in which his cause is to be advanced, and that way he will bless and no other. The Hugonots certainly fought for liberty; they only drew the sword when they were attacked; but there seems a sad want of religious zeal even among those in whom we ought most to expect it. The Reformation in England was strictly religious; Cranmer, Latimer, Ridley, Hall, Dave-than all the loftier errors of the rest united; so nant, and a host of writers and preachers, laid hold first on the intellects and then on the feelings of the nation. John Knox, like Luther, was a zealot of the most ardent class, sometimes intemperate, but always sincere. We look in vain for such men among the French Hugonots. Religion-by the word we mean a conscientious desire of serving God according to his will-has always been the prime moving cause of every great change in England. Oliver Cromwell was a zealot; if he was not, his party thought him so, and followed his orders because they felt anxiety in the same cause. James II. lost his crown because he interfered with the religion of England, represented by the seven bishops. Radicals, Chartists, and various disturbers, have in all periods endeavored to overturn our institutions; but the strength of the people has always been attached to Protestantism and the established Church, because they consider them the proper means of serving God. Nothing therefore has ever shaken the throne of England but a religious movement, and to be religious a movement must depend upon its leaders: we may fairly form a conjecture as to the character of any class of men from the persons whom they obey, and whom they put forward as their spokesmen when liberty and life are at stake. Here, as in the present day, France presents a strong contrast with England; there seems a strange want of all religion among the people, the power of God seems to be forgotten, his name is never mentioned, and last Easter Sunday was fixed for a general election. We regret that even among the martyrs of the sixteenth century there is a great deficiency in evangelical principles and virtue. Let us consider the character of some of the leading Hugonots. After lending his name to the Hugonot party, and supporting them by his right to approach and advise the king as first prince of the blood, he allowed himself to be drawn into a league with their enemies; and, in 1562, he is found united with the cardinal and the Duke of Guise, the most powerful and the most insidious of the enemies of his party. His wife remonstrated, but he only answered her by sending her home to Navarre, and placing his son under the care of a Roman Catholic. Shortly after new troubles broke out, and we find the King of Navarre on the side of the Duke of Guise. At the siege of Rouen, in the same year, he was mortally wounded, but though he suffered great pain, he was not at first considered in a dangerous state. His amusements at this time were dances, which he gave in his bedchamber to the young people of the camp; and his mistress, La Belle Rouet, was seated by his side. He continued to boast of all he was to do, and talked much of the riches and beauty of Sardinia. When the town was taken, he insisted on being carried through it in a litter, which inflamed his wound, and caused serious apprehensions of danger. The terrors of conscience now succeeded to the levity of his former occupations, but he does not seem to have known whether he were a Protestant or a Roman Catholic. He began to examine his past life, and, like Cardinal Wolsey, regretted, when too late, that he had sacrificed his religion to the aggrandizement of his kingdom. When his brother, the Prince de Condé, sent to inquire for him, he returned an answer, that, if his life were spared, he should make the establishment of reform his great object. His last hours were spent in the miserable remorse of a troubled conscience: he was attended by two physi cians of opposite persuasions; and a contemporary writer describes him as receiving extreme unction from a priest, and listening to portions of the Book of Job, to which his attention was drawn by a Protestant minister. He seems altogether to have been one of the most contemptible of men; in private his propensity for thieving was so great, that his attendants were obliged to empty his pockets after he was asleep, and restore the plunder of the day to its lawful owners. We turn with pleasure from the contemplation of a character like the King of Navarre, to that of his younger brother, Louis Bourbon, Prince of Condé. In him were united several of the noble traits which constitute the hero of the world's admiration: -a skilful warrior, a generous adversary, the admiration of the ladies of the court, the most scientific knight in the tournament, and the champion of the cause of civil and religious liberty. Who is there that does not admire the character of the valiant, the liberal, and the accomplished prince? But here, unfortunately, we must stop; we look in vain for the high principle of sound religion, which shines in private as well as in public, and is ready to sacrifice all personal gratification in the service of God. Condé fought in the cause of the Gospel, but he did so rather as a crusader than as a Christian: he valued his life little, for he was a truly brave soldier; but his own pleasures were the rock on which he split; the temptations of a dissipated court were more dangerous weapons than the swords of his opponents; and he who could conquer in the field, or take a hostile city, was yet unable to rule his own spirit, and was foiled in the conflict with his own ill-regulated passions. Catherine, ever watchful of her advantage, was too wise to overlook the weak point of the prince, and soon set snares for him, which he was unable to escape. Among the daughters of the queen, were two young ladies of the name of Limeuil to the elder of these, who was distinguished for her fine figure, her taste in dress, her beauty, and her wit, the queen confided the task of gaining the affections of the prince. The business was but too easy, for the victim was willing, and, like Samson, only too ready to betray his dearest secrets to his treacherous charmer. Catherine obtained her object, and learned the intentions of the Hugonots; but La Belle Limeuil discovered too late that she had ventured on dangerous ground; that she had been tampering not only with the affections of Condé, but with her own; what she had considered as a gay frolic, ended in a melancholy reality; she had fallen deeply in love with the knight she had intended to betray, and she now found herself deserted in her turn, like some unfaithful damsel of romance. The widow of the Maréchal de St. André had also set her affections upon the Prince de Condé ; she bestowed upon him the most valuable gifts; among others, the splendid palace of St. Valery, which her husband had built; but Condé, equally unfaithful to his religion and his knighthood, received the gifts, but deserted the giver. The tragedy, however, does not end here; the beginning of sin is like the letting out of water: his excellent wife, who had long shut her eyes to his irregularities, died shortly after, the victim of abused affections; and the Demoiselle de Limeuil found herself pointed at by a censorious court, not because she had been guilty of any irregularity, but because she had been fool enough to be caught in her own snare. Her health began to sink, and she retired from the eyes of the world; she was passionately fond of music, and, on one occasion, she desired her page to play her a melancholy air, where "tout est perdu" is the burden of the song. When this had been once or twice repeated, she called on him to play it over again, with increased emphasis, until she should desire. him to leave off; he did so for some minutes, and she seemed to join in the chorus, but suddenly her voice ceased, and, on looking round, the page perceived that his mistress had breathed her last. "When lovely woman stoops to folly, And finds too late that men betray, What charm can soothe her melancholy, What art can wash her guilt away? "The only art her guilt to cover, To hide her shame from every eye, To bring repentance to her lover, And wring his bosom, is-to die." A man influenced by true religion may fall once and again, but had the character of Condé been such as the leader of a religious movement ought to possess, no woman of Catherine's discernment would have conceived such a scheme, and the first advances in executing it would have been repelled with scorn. Again we meet with Condé under circumstances where religious principle is tried to the uttermost the near prospect of death. By the treachery of Francis II., he and his brother Anthony were seized, and, after a mock trial, were left under sentence of death | on a vague charge of treason. The Cardinal non, (he passed Maintenon on the 17th,) where of Lorraine was most anxious to have Condé some of the lower orders had assembled to see executed at once, but his connection with the him go by-an aged woman flung herself into the royal family was pleaded in his behalf, and river, which was deep, (the rivulet having been the vacillating spirit of Catherine was anxious stopping him short, laid hold of his boot, and said, trampled in by the passing of the cavalry,) and to be free from his influence, but afraid of Go on, prince, you will suffer much, but God the power of his rivals: under such uncerwill be with you.' To which he added, Mother, tainty we might expect some traits of relig- pray for me, and went on. The other was, that ious feeling but the contemporary accounts in the evening, the prince being in bed, and talking give us little on the subject. The death of with some who had remained in his chamber, held Francis changed the whole face of affairs, the following discourse to a minister who had and one of Condé's attendants, who went to himself,)We shall have a battle to-morrow, been there, and was reading prayers, (probably Beza communicate the intelligence to him, found said he, or I am much deceived, in spite of what him quietly playing at cards with the officer the admiral says. I know one ought not to atwho guarded him; and being afraid to tell tend to dreams, and yet I will tell you what I him directly, made signs that he had somedreamed last night. It was that it seemed to thing to communicate. The prince let fall a me that I had given battle three times, one after card, and stooping to pick it up, his attend the other; finally obtaining the victory—and that I saw our three enemies dead; but that I also had ant whispered in his ear, Our friend is done received my death-wound. So, having ordered up." The prince finished his game without their bodies to be laid one upon the other, and I altering a feature. Much, however, as we upon the top of all, I there rendered up my soul must regret the want of religious feeling in the to God.' The minister answered, as usually a prince, we must remember the difference be- sensible man would answer in such cases, that tween those times and the present, and make such visions were not to be regarded. Yet strange every allowance for the differences of educa- to say, (adds Beza,) the dream seemed contion and the darkness of the age. firmed by the result. The next day the Maré chal de St. André was killed, then the Duke of was sincere in his attachment to Protestant- Guise, then the constable, and finally, after the ism, and never wavered in its cause. Some-third engagement, the prince himself."-Refortimes at the head of a victorious army; some- mation, vol. i. p. 400. times a prisoner in the tent of his rival, and meeting him with the courtesy of an old and valued friend; sometimes flying from a superior force, unable to pay his mercenaries, and with equal reason to fear his own troops and the royal army, he displays a degree of heroism which we seldom meet with, except in romance. The Alcibiades of modern history, fond of pleasure, but faithful to his cause, anxious on the subject of religion, but sometimes inclined to superstition, erring in many instances, but beloved by all around him, his character and adventures give an opening for the historian which modern events seldom afford, and we can assure our readers that our author has not neglected the opportunity. We extract a passage from his history: Condé “Condé, who regarded a battle as inevitable, wished to halt and prepare to meet the enemy but the admiral, judging from the excessive reserve that had already been shown, that this movement was intended as a demonstration only, was for proceeding without delay. His advice prevailed, and the dawn of the 19th found the Hugonot army still upon their march. I will relate,' says Beza, two things that occurred, which seemed as if sent from God as presages of what was approaching; and that I can attest for true, having seen the one with my own eyes, and heard the other with my own ears. The first is that the prince, crossing a little river at Mainte Again, in 1568, when Lorraine and Alva had first persuaded the Hugonots to lay down their arms, and then proclaimed the decrees of the Council of Trent, Condé had In the mean retired to his country seat. time, strange reports had been spread that no Protestant would be alive against the vintage; that Charles must either exterminate them, or retire to a monastery; that to keep faith with heretics is a weakness, and to murder them a service acceptable to God. Several of the adherents of Condé had been slain, some as if by the king's order, some by popular violence. The clubs of Paris had begun to show their power, and had declared for the pope; and the first movement was made for the formation of the celebrated ligue. Condé naturally began to fear for his personal safety, and while consulting with Coligny on the proper course to be adopted, Coligny's son-in-law arrived, bearing friendly letters from the king, but advising his relations not to trust the royal promises. The same evening a mysterious note was intercepted, containing these ominous words, "The stag is in the toils! the hunt is ready!" and at the dead of night an unknown cavalier galloped by the castle, sounding his huntinghorn, and crying, "The great stag has bro |