swered, 'There is not much harm in that; it is the Holy Scripture.'" The duke, not understanding this, went into a greater fury than before. "How!" he cried, "the Holy Scripture! Why, it is more than fifteen hundred years since the death and passion of Jesus Christ, and it is only one since this book was printed! Do you call that the Holy Scripture?"

The Huguenot leaders, especially Coligny, were accused of engaging an assassin to murder the duke of Guise. The suspicion was natural, and there might have appeared grounds for an accusation which has never, in any way, been proved, though the charge has never been wholly withdrawn. Poltrot, the assassin, took the basest means of delivering the Protestants, and the people of Orléans, from their formidable foe. He came to Coligny's army with the declared intention of seeking out Guise in battle, and killing him on the open field of war, a declaration which Coligny did not deny having received. But when the admiral led his troops from the vicinity of Orléans, he introduced himself to the camp of Guise, and told the duke he abjured the errors of Protestantism, and wished to return to the old religion, and to the service of the king.

Guise received him kindly; his appearance was prepossessing, and his family of some distinction. He ordered an apartment to be prepared for the young man, and invited him to dine with him. By this gross treachery, the deed was accomplished, which left a re

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proach, without really conferring any great or lasting benefit on the cause of the Protestants. Coligny was indignant at the charge brought against him, and wrote to the queen to clear himself, offering to go and confront the wretched assassin, (who was frightfully tortured to obtain confession,) provided his own safety would be guaranteed; but this was not accorded.

The death of Guise caused an instant revolution in the aspect of Protestant affairs. Orléans was saved; the words of Catharine de' Medici were not verified-the "TO-MORROW" was passed in safety.

The captivity, meantime, of the prince de Condé had not proved beneficial to his moral interests. A disposition too much inclined to pleasure, had been worked upon by the arts of the queen, and those of the brilliant and beautiful ladies she assembled at her court. This rendered him more desirous of peace; and he yielded to terms which were considered to betray the Protestant interests, at the very moment when the loss of their great defender might have made the Roman Catholic party more willing to make some tolerating conces · sions. The liberty of worship, for which they and Coligny had fought, was rather restricted than increased by the treaty of peace. But the prince and all his adherents were declared faithful subjects, as having taken up arms "with good and pure intentions;" consequently no punishments were to take place.

This treaty stipulated that Roman Catholics

and Huguenots should unite their arms to expel the English from France, who had been invited thither by the latter. This they did most warmly, to the great surprise of our queen Elizabeth, who saw her armies beaten by her allies. So eager were Frenchmen to wipe out the disgrace of having brought English garrisons into France, that the Huguenots fought with greater zeal against their Protestant auxiliaries than they had shown against their Roman Catholic adversaries. The prince de Condé offered himself to expel them from Havre, which town was forced to capitulate, though the following morning earl Warwick, the governor, who had just surrendered, saw the English fleet appearing with supplies and help.

The polite message of the French commander to the English admiral is worthy of repetition. He sent to inform him that Havre was then in the possession of the king of France, but if he wished to land for refreshment, the queen would be happy to entertain him; for, as his majesty had recovered what belonged to him, he had no intention to quarrel further with the queen of England. When Elizabeth's anger had subsided, she said the king of France was happy in having such faithful subjects.

Coligny was extremely displeased with the terms Condé had made for the Protestants. In his letter to Catharine, clearing himself from all knowledge of the murder of the duke of Guise, he had used a degree of candour which a treacherous and guilty man would fear

to utter.

"Do not suppose," he said, "that I feel any regret for the death of Guise. I consider it the best thing that could have happened for the kingdom, for the church of God, and my own family."

All the advantages, however, which might have arisen from the removal of Guise were lost to the Protestants by the precipitation of Condé. The admiral told him his pen had destroyed more churches, in signing that treaty, than their enemies would have done in a long war. By restricting the number of places of worship, he said, the poor people, who had fought as well as the nobility for their liberty, were left exposed to the danger of returning again to the superstitions of Rome, or of living without any religion; for it could not be expected that working men, old people, and women, could travel, weekly, twenty or thirty miles to find a place of worship. And what security for its faithful performance could exist, if its assemblies were only held in the castles of the Protestant nobles? The religion of the people would be subject to the caprice of the nobility; and if estates should pass into the hands of Roman Catholics, what might become of the church? Calvin and Beza, with many other ministers, seconded these complaints, telling Condé he would be the first to lament his want of firmness; which, indeed, was soon the case. The treaty was signed, and could not be revoked. Peace once more was restored; the horrors of a civil and religious war subsidedalas! to be soon renewed!

CHAPTER VIII.

CHARLES IX.

PART III.

THE removal of the powerful and ambitious Guise left to Catharine de' Medici the undivided authority for which she thirsted, to the desire for which every other passion was subservient. Her son, under her training, promised to be worthy of such a mother. It was not, perhaps, in her power to make him great, for her own nature possessed no real greatness; but she is allowed to have done what she could to make him wicked.

Whatever good qualities the unhappy boy might have naturally possessed were annihilated or corrupted, not under her influence alone, but under that also of his governor and chief friend, marshal De Retz, who was one of the very worst characters that, or any other age, could produce. One of the accomplishments the youthful monarch acquired from him was that of swearing. "At court," says Brantome, we held him to be the greatest blasphemer that ever was heard; so that the king learned this vice, and became so habituated to it, that this horrid speech and blas