year, a letter from the King of Navarre informed him that he must hasten to join the Protestant standard; for that the moment was now arrived when he required the service of all his adherents. He set off immediately on the receipt of this summons, taking with him the sum of forty-eight thousand francs, raised by the sale of some forest timber which he had cut for the purpose of supplying, as well this prince's necessities, as his own. He was in the midst of battles, sieges, and negotiations, when a plague broke out in Rosny, which almost depopulated the town: most of his domestics were carried off, and his amiable wife was obliged to betake herself to the neighbouring forest, where she remained two days and a night in her coach, and afterwards took refuge in the castle of Huet, belonging to Madame de Compagnac, her husband's aunt. Sully flew to watch over and console her: she happily escaped infection, and he remained with her till the contagion had ceased, when he removed her back to Rosny. This done, he was obliged to betake himself again to the field. Armies of the faith were every where in motion; and the religious leaders were each forcing the other into his own path of salvation at the bayonet's point.

by a citizen_named Chauffaile and his wife. For the Protestants continued to meet in churches, and to hold religious assemblies, notwithstanding the danger to which it exposed them. At this very time several women were burnt for thus assembling; and at length the number of spies was so multiplied in every quarter of the city, that Sully found it utterly impossible to remain any longer in Paris, with any chance of escaping their vigilance. He therefore set off alone, and in disguise, to rejoin the King of Navarre, which he did in time to be present at the great battle of Coutras, in which the king's forces gained a complete victory (A. D. 1587). Not long afterwards, intelligence was brought him by a courier, that his wife was alarmingly ill: he immediately set off post; but before he could reach her, all hope of recovery had fled. All remedies were ineffectual. The only consolation left him was to receive her last embrace; she expired four days after his arrival. Sully was deeply affected by this event. "The loss," says he, "of a wife so dear to me, and who, in her lifetime, has experienced such sad vicissitudes of fortune, closed my heart, for a time, to every feeling but that of grief. I heard with indifference the progress of the arms of the two kings, which, at any other time, would have inflamed me with a desire to partake the danger and the glory.'

Such of the Protestants whose means enabled them to live in Paris, chose to reside there in preference, as they could conceal themselves much better amidst the throng and tumult of the capital. Sully, with the same view to security, had removed his wife there, but under an assumed name. The state of affairs was such, however, that she was subjected to great privations; besides which, she was now far advanced in pregnancy, and in want of all the requisite conveniences of her situation. As her time drew nigh, Sully, apprehensive of the sufferings to which she might be exposed, resolved to go himself to Paris. After making the necessary arrangements, he set off, and, on his arrival, found she had just been delivered of a son. Prudence required that the least possible publicity should be given to the happy event. The Lord of Ruères, then a prisoner in the Conciergerie, was chosen godfather, and the infant was carried from the baptismal font to the church

"

It will here be necessary to glance slightly at the events which had led to the posture of affairs at this time, and to which Sully refers.

Henry III., a prince wholly unfit to rule the destiny of France at this perilous crisis; unreflective, hot-headed, immersed in pleasure, and abandoning himself to his favourites, in an emergency of affairs that called for the utmost watchfulness, and the best-weighed resolutions, kept the nation in a perpetual state of sedition and outrage. His brother, the Duke of Alençon, had died at Chateau-Thierry about three years before (A. D. 1584), unmarried, and Henry himself having no issue, young King Henry of Navarre, became heir-apparent to the throne of France. This event had served as a pretext for the Duke of Guise to declare himself chief of the league: being highly accomplished

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-affecting on all occasions to take part with the people, and always keeping alive the fire of zeal, he had acquired great influence over the multitude. He exclaimed earnestly, and with effect, against the fatal consequences of having a heretic on the French throne. The pope, at the same time, fulminated a bull of disinheritance against Henry, as an alien from holy church. The duke, artfully profiting by this pontifical edict, persuaded the cardinal Bourbon, uncle to Henry of Navarre, that the crown lapsed to him. The old cardinal, who had a deep-settled hatred of the Reformers, delighted to find himself heirpresumptive, rose up against his nephew as his rival, raised the standard of rebellion against the royal authority, and issued a manifesto, exhorting the French people, as they valued all that was dear to them here and hereafter, to continue the crown in the Catholic branch. The Duke of Guise, who himself aspired to the throne, lent nevertheless, all his aid to the cardinal, well knowing that from his great popularity, and the strength of his position, he could catch the ball when it fell. He had been blamed by his party for thus supporting the claim of the cardinal, as in so doing he indirectly recognised the title of the nephew, but he had no doubt made up his mind to rid himself, in the interval, of this bar to his ambition.

The association of The Sixteen was established; a league confined to Paris only, composed of those in the interest of the duke, and sworn enemies of the reigning monarch, who instead of meeting all these measures with a counterenergy, had suffered the conspiracy to gain strength, till, in a fit of weak but desperate vengeance, he resolved to crush it at a blow. He had made himself a member of the League, as we have already seen, from a principle of fear. The error of this policy had now become manifest. The Guises were the soul of the party, and all the passions of the populace were at their command. Henry, being at length persuaded that the duke and his brother, the cardinal of Lorrain, intended to dethrone him, caused them both to be murdered. No sooner did intelligence of this fatal step get abroad, than all was alarm, uproar, and anarchy. The Council of Sixteen assembled to denounce this act of the king.

The

priests were exasperated against him, conceiving that the Guises had been made away with to favour the Huguenots. The people were enraged, and the impulse of vengeance diffused itself far and wide. The parliament met; the majority, who were for quelling this tumultuous spirit by force, were imprisoned in the Bastile by the desperate and ferocious Bussy le Clerc; and to obtain their liberation were obliged to swear alliance with the League. The king, alarmed at the confusion that surrounded him, and looking only to his own preservation, removed his parliament to Tours. But here the thunder of the Vatican was heard in the distance: presently the storm came on, and with redoubled fury. He was excommunicated by pope Sixtus V. for the murder of the cardinal of Lorrain. Kings might be assassinatedthe people might be massacred; all this was pardonable; but to kill a cardinal, was a crime without atonement—a sin never to be forgiven. This bull of excommunication issued against a monarch already hated by his subjects, kindled a flame from one end of France to the other. The Council of Sixteen was desirous that the Duke of Mayenne, who had taken up arms to revenge the death of the Guises, should assume the title of king, but this he declined, contenting himself with exercising all the functions of royalty, under the title of Charles Duke of Mayenne, lieutenant-general of the kingdom, and crown of France, which he caused to be inserted in the official seals of the kingdom, having previously caused the royal signet to be broken, as if the throne had been vacant.

Henry III. still remained in retirement at Tours; beset in every direction, he endeavoured to conciliate the usurper, but in vain. Seeing, at length, that he had no choice but to lose his kingdom, or to win it back by force of arms, he resolved to address himself to the young King of Navarre, with a view to procure his co-operation. The two kings had an interview at Tours. It was arranged that they should make common cause against the chiefs of the League, and measures were concerted for reducing the rebel forces to obedience.

Such was the aspect of affairs to which Sully alludes, when, absorbed in grief for the loss of his wife, he confesses himself to have heard with indifference of

fully now succeeded. "It was not," he said, "a petty kingdom like that of Navarre which he had at stake, but the greatest monarchy in Europe."

The Pope a short time before had declared him incapable of succeeding to the sovereignty, but he was just then flushed with his glorious successes at Coutras, and surrounded by his victorious battalions he set his Holiness at defiance. A papal bull had no terrors for a royal heretic in full march. But the late event had changed the whole face of affairs. The death of the king had deprived him of a great part of the royal army. The forces of the League, commanded by the Duke de Mayenne were numerous and well disciplined. Many who had made it a point of conscience not to appear in arms against their Catholic sovereign, felt themselves prompted by the same stirrings of conscience to prevent the accession of a Protestant to the French throne. He had no dependance on the nobles, who looked only to their own individual interests he had nothing to hope from the clergy, who, having higher interest in contemplation, trembled for the fate of the church with a schismatic at the head of the state. The French monarch, in this emergency, was greatly indebted to the sound and salutary counsel of Sully, which he adopted without delay. Henry IV. had the advantage of being greatly popular. He had gained the confidence likewise of those about him, by his chivalrous sense of honour, and the fidelity with which he, on all occasions, kept his word. The Queen-mother too was dead, which was greatly in his favour; the intriguing spirit which tainted every measure, and breathed itself into every counsel was gone, and jealousy began to sow divisions among the faction, which her presiding mind no longer kept together. It was resolved that the first and great concern was to subdue the troops of the League, and to this purpose all their exertions were now devoted. Paris was the focus of treason and dis

content, and the ulterior object of all his enterprises was to reduce that capital to obedience. But various battles were to be hazarded before that result could be looked for. The most important was the memorable battle of Ivry, in which Sully so greatly distinguished himself. At the first onset he received a wound in the calf of his leg, and his horse being shot in three places fell under him. He mounted another and in the next charge, this second horse was killed, and he himself received a pistol shot in the thigh, and a sword cut on the head. He was removed from the field without his helmet, and almost without armour, for it had been wellnigh battered to pieces. Henry, who had fought with his accustomed bravery, and signalized himself in every part of the action, sought out Sully after the victory, and after loading him with praises, expressed the deepest solicitude for his recovery; and having carefully satisfied himself from the surgeon that the wounds were not dangerous, retired, that he might as little as possible disturb his repose, and on taking leave of him said "My dear friend, keep yourself quiet, and be assured you have not served an ungrateful master.'

The battle of Ivry had spread consternation among all the chiefs of the League, but Henry had many severe battles yet to fight with the aspirants of that desperate confederacy, and Sully was present with him in all his expeditions. With all the bravery of his troops, Henry was sometimes obliged to resort to those collateral means of success so perfectly well understood in the art military. A curious instance of this occurred at the siege of Louviers, in Upper Normandy. We will give it in Sully's own words: "This city kept in its pay a priest,t who from the top of the highest belfry, which he never quitted, performed the office of a spy with great vigilance. The moment he saw even a single person in the open country, he set a certain bell ringing, and hoisted on that side a large