of errors seen through the ameliorating vista of intervening years; and we gladly press forward to meet some brilliant emanation of a better nature, some gloriously redeeming character or circumstance, which restores us to the sweetest perceptions and the loftiest emotions of our nature.

Next to the author who devotes genius and learning to the wearisome occupation of historic research, and the laborious task of pursuing truth through the labyrinths which time, language, and custom, have interwoven around her; we apprehend one of the greatest benefits a public character can bestow upon his countrymen (and we may say upon his species), is transmitting to posterity a well-digested detail of those scenes which he has witnessed, and those transactions in which he has borne a part. We find all nations are agreed in holding such memoirs in especial estimation, and the labours of Thucydides and Lord Clarendon are alike standard works, that pass on from age to age, uninjured by the oblivious hand of time, as things which, appertaining to man's nature, adhere to him in despite of the mutabilities which affect his situation. Thus the work before us will go down to posterity, valued alike by the historian, biographer, and financier, and held in high respect by the general reader, for the accuracy and simplicity of its details, the importance and variety of its facts; and, above all, the honesty and unvarnished integrity by which it is dictated, on which the mind reposes with an unquestioning security.

Few men have existed whose account of passing events, and whose personal share in controlling, and influencing the circle of public affairs, could offer equal interest with the Memoirs of the Duke of Sully. His determined courage, unbending integrity, and energetic perseverance, peculiarly fitted him for the times in which he began his honourable career, the confusion which arose out of them, and the prosperity that eventually ensued. He seemed born to be the minister of a king whose manifold difficulties, splendid qualities, and unhappy foibles, alike demanded the valour, the investigation, and the inflexibility of this most devoted servant-who, as a general, a minister, and a personal friend, was alike invaluable to the monarch and the people.

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This important work, we are informed by the editor, is collected from the papers of the Duke of Sully, Baron de Rosny, principally written by his own hands, but occasionally by those of his secretaries, during the period of his public life. The Memoirs are divided into thirty books, which contain the history of the author and his own times, including, of course, that of the king, his master. This, which may be pro

perly termed his own work, is succeeded by a memoir of the remainder of his life, his death and burial; after which, we have the trial of Francis Ravaillac, the assassin of Henry the great, and the dreadful, we may say diabolical, sentence passed upon him. These, with a copious index, constitute five thick octavo volumes, admirably translated by an English lady. In making the copious extracts which we propose to transfer to our pages, we shall select such only as are rendered peculiarly interesting from the important historical circumstances they relate, or the private anecdotes they record; that tend to display the manners of an age which blended ferocity with politeness, cruelty and bigotry with valour and elegance, in a manner which nothing less than the most authentic records could induce us to believe.

For the better understanding the commencement of these Memoirs, which naturally enter on their subject as if the reader were well acquainted with the previous history of France, we shall recapitulate the affairs of that country for so many years previous, as to render the names and parties, hereafter alluded to, familiar to recollection.

Catherine de Medicis, the most cruel, intriguing, violent, but accomplished princess of her time, on the death of her husband Henry II. (who was killed at a tournament) procured herself the title of regent, during the minority of her son, Francis II., now only sixteen (the husband of the unfortunate Queen Mary of Scotland). At this time, the oppressions practised by the court against the Calvinists or Huguenots, had driven them to seek redress by taking up arms, being secretly aided by the Queen of England, and more openly by the Prince of Condé, and the young King of Navarre, afterwards Henry IV.

The Duke of Guise and the Cardinal of Lorraine, who were joined with the queen in the government, gave battle to these unhappy people, and having conquered, pursued their victory rather as murderers than soldiers, and the Prince of Condé, falling into their hands, was sentenced to be beheaded; but the sudden death of the king, and the well known circumstance, that the Protestants, headed by Admiral Coligny, were about to rise in far more formidable numbers, suspended his fate.

Charles IX., the second son of Catherine (likewise a minor), succeeded, and the ambitious queen retaining the power she loved, and fearing the open force of the Protestants, began to practise those underhand means of aggrandizement in which she was already too well skilled; though, abhorring the Huguenots, and perpetually practising against them, she affected the utmost candour, liberated the Prince of Condé, and

proposed uniting her only daughter, Margaret, to Henry, King of Navarre (himself a Protestant), then in his fifteenth year.

The successes of the Protestants in several battles which followed, and the assassination of the Duke of Guise, together with the known disposition of Philip, King of Spain, to foment all the divisions of France, rendered Catherine only the more anxious to conciliate matters with her injured and rebellious subjects; but her treachery rendered ineffectual every truce which was made from time to time, and immense armies and frequent battles made the whole country one scene of civil warfare, in which Spain now assisted the court of France to persecute its Protestant subjects; and young Henry of Navarre, at the head of the League, was aided by Elizabeth of England, and Protestants from every part of Europe in vigorous opposition.

After various successes, a change to the disadvantage of the League took place, and Catherine who, with her son, possessed the most profound dissimulation, was again willing to make peace, and cement it by a marriage with Henry, which she was the more inclined to, because he was the heir to the throne of France after the death of her sons; and Charles (now on the throne) was very sickly. Her negotiations succeeded, and Henry, now eighteen, came to Paris to celebrate the nuptial ceremony, accompanied by his mother, the Queen of Navarre; who died soon after her arrival, as it was believed by some, from poison, although it was said to be from fatigue; and all the court went into mourning for her. It was on this occasion that Maximilian Bethune, second son of the Baron de Rosny, then only in his eleventh year, was first introduced by his father to Henry, King of Navarre; and here, in the year 1570, his memoirs commence.

The author gives a long, and, in him, excusable detail of his noble ancestors; after which, he informs us, that owing to the natural imperfections and weak constitution of his eldest brother, his father ever looked upon him as the head of his family, "a strong and vigorous constitution recommending me to his favour." And adds,

"My parents bred me in the opinions and doctrine of the reformed religion, and I have continued constant in the profession of it; neither threatenings, promises, variety of events, nor the change even of the king, my protector, joined to his most tender solicitations, have ever been able to make me renounce it."

He then begins to speak of his royal master:

"Henry, king of Navarre, who will have the principal share in these memoirs, was seven years older than me, and when the peace of

1570 was concluded, entered into his eighteenth year.* A countenance noble, open, and insinuating; free, easy and lively manners, with an uncommon dexterity in performing all the exercises suitable to his age, drew the esteem and admiration of all that knew him. He began early to discover those great talents for war, which have so highly distinguished him among other princes. Vigorous and indefatigable by the education of his infancy, he breathed nothing but labour, and seemed to wait with impatience for occasions of acquiring glory. The crown of France not being yet the object of his aspiring wishes, he indulged himself in forming schemes for the recovering that of Navarre, which Spain had unjustly usurped from his family; and this he thought he might be enabled to perform, by maintaining a secret intelligence with the Moors in Spain. The enmity he bore to this power was open and declared; it was born with him, and he never condescended to conceal it. He felt his courage inflamed at the relation of the battle of Lepanto, which was fought at that time;

"He was born at Pau, in Bearn, December 13, 1553. M. de Perefixe relates some very curious particulars concerning his birth. Henry d'Albret, his grandfather, made his daughter promise to sing a song to him while she was in labour; in order, said he, that you may bring me a child who will neither weep nor make wry faces. The princess had fortitude enough, in the midst of her pains, to keep her word, and sang a song in Bearnois, her own country language, as soon as Henry entered the chamber: the child came into the world without crying; his grandfather immediately carried him to his own apartment, and there rubbed his little lips with a clove of garlic, and made him suck some wine out of a gold cup, to make his constitution strong and vigorous.'-Perefixe's History of Henry the Great, p. 1. Cayet, vol. i. p. 241."

"In the memoirs of Nevers, we meet with some letters written in 1567, by the principal magistrates of Bourdeaux, that contain several very interesting particulars concerning the person and manners of young Henry. We have here, says one, the Prince of Bearn; it must be confessed, that he is a charming youth. At thirteen years of age, he has all the riper qualities of eighteen or nineteen: he is agreeable, polite, obliging, and behaves to every one with an air so easy and engaging, that wherever he is, there is always a crowd. He mixes in conversation like a wise and prudent man, speaks always to the purpose, and when it happens that the court is the subject of discourse, it is easy to see that he is perfectly well acquainted with it, and never says more nor less than he ought, in whatever place he is. I shall all my life hate the new religion for having robbed us of so worthy a subject.' And in another, His hair is a little red, yet the ladies think him not less agreeable on that account: his face is finely shaped, his nose neither too large nor too small, his eyes full of sweetness, his skin brown but clear, and his whole countenance animated with an uncommon vivacity: with all these graces, if he is not well with the ladies, 1 extremely unfortunate.""

and a like opportunity of distinguishing himself against the infidels, became one of his most ardent wishes. The vast and flattering expectations which the astrologers agreed in making him conceive, were almost always present to his mind. He saw the foundation of them in that affection which Charles IX. early entertained for him, and which considerably increased a short time before his death: but animated as he was with these happy presages, he laboured to second them only in secret, and never disclosed his thoughts to any person but a small number of his most intimate confidents."

We e now come to that terrible event, which took place during Henry's visit to Paris, where he was undoubtedly invited for the purpose of becoming a victim, even in his bridal days, and under the protection of royal hospitality.

"If I was inclined to increase the general horror, inspired by an action so barbarous as that perpetrated on the 24th of August, 1572, and too well known by the name of the massacre of St. Bartholomew, I should in this place enlarge upon the number, the quality, the virtues, and great talents of those who were inhumanly murdered on this horrible day, as well in Paris as in every part of the kingdom: I should mention at least the ignominious treatment, the fiendlike cruelty, and savage insults, these miserable victims suffered from their butchers, and which in death were a thousand times more terrible than death itself. I have writings still in my hands, which would confirm the report of the court of France having made the most pressing instances to the neighbouring courts, to follow its example with regard to the, Protestants, or at least to refuse an asylum to those unfortunate people; but I prefer the honour of the nation to the satisfying a malignant pleasure, which many persons would take in lengthening out a recital, wherein might be found the names of those who were so lost to humanity as to dip their hands in the blood of their fellow-citizens, and even their own relations. I would, were it in my power, for ever obliterate the memory of a day that divine vengeance made France groan for, by a continued succession of miseries, blood, and horror, during six and twenty years; for it is not possible to judge otherwise, if one reflects on all that passed from that fatal moment till the peace of 1598. It is with regret that I cannot pass over what happened upon this occasion to the prince, who is the subject of these memoirs, and to myself.

" I was in bed, and awaked from sleep three hours after midnight, by the sound of all the bells, and the confused cries of the populace. My governor St. Julian, with my valet de chambre, went hastily out to know the cause; and I never afterwards heard more of these men, who, without doubt, were amongst the first that were sacrificed to the public fury. I continued alone in my chamber dressing myself, when, in a few moments, I saw my landlord enter, pale, and in the utmost consternation: he was of the reformed religion, and having learned what the matter was, had agreed to go to mass, to save his life, and preserve his house from being pillaged. He came to persuade me to do the same, and to take me with him. I did not