1588.

GUISE ENTERS PARIS.

341

continued his march, for the purpose, he said, of pleading his own cause. His entry into Paris took place on the 9th of May. No troops accompanied him; but the citizens soon formed around him the most formidable escort, even kissing his garments, and displaying other signs of extravagant affection.

Instead of proceeding to his own hotel the duke alighted at that of the queen-mother, who was startled, and even terrified at the visit. Guise, however, appeased her fears by such good humour and gaiety, and such professions of loyalty, that Catherine proposed that they should both set out to the Louvre to visit the king. Catherine loved above all things to effect reconciliation, to be herself the arbiter, and to negotiate the terms. Guise consented. His consent strikes me as an act of irresolution, not of courage. Catherine sent word privately to the Louvre, that she was coming thither with the duke of Guise. Henry was thunderstruck at his enemy's boldness. What did he seek? For what purpose did he thus come,-to brave him? The king asked advice of those near him. A colonel of his guards declared that he was ready to run Guise through the body. Henry applauded his zeal, but bade him wait the signal. The abbé d'Elbene gave the same advice. "Strike the shepherd," said he, "and the sheep will disperse." But Henry was irresolute; and his other counsellors, who feared the consequences of exasperating the populace, advised that no attempt should be made upon the duke's life. In the midst of this consultation the queen and Guise arrived. The Louvre was full of guards, whom the duke took care to salute with his wonted affability. But Crillon, their commander, gave way to a gesture of impatience and contempt, which startled Guise, and showed him all the danger of his position. Consultations were still going on in the king's chamber, when Catherine and the duke entered. There was no time for dissimulation. Henry showed all his anger. "Did I not forbid you to approach Paris?" were the words with which he addressed the duke. The

latter party denied having received the express order, and partly excused himself for disobeying it. Henry listened to something that Bellièvre whispered to him, still looking steadfastly on the duke. Catherine approached the king at the moment, and Guise could hear her using the language of dissuasion. He saw that it was a question whether to slay or spare him; and saw also that fear of the multitude, whose clamours were heard from without, alone saved him from the meditated blow. Henry seemed convinced by the arguments of Catherine. Guise, pretending fatigue, hastily retired.

Whatever were the previous views or resolves of Guise, the danger that had menaced him in the interview determined him in future to keep no terms with the king. On reaching his hôtel, in the rue St. Antoine, he summoned the sixteen, and made arrangements for an immediate revolt. He had, nevertheless, two days after, another interview with Henry, when he took care to be well guarded: it was Catherine who arranged it, in the hope of an accommodation; but it proved fruitless.

On the morning of the 12th of May, a large body of troops arrived to reinforce the Swiss and French guards. Henry ordered them to occupy the principal positions of the capital. The sight of the soldiers was a signal plain enough for the Parisians, who, instructed by Guise, instantaneously set about forming barricades in every street. Chains extended from house to house; carts and barrels formed their hasty intrenchments, which were heaped and filled with earth. Crillon, who had orders to keep the communication open betwixt the Louvre and the Bastille, was obliged to retreat from the rue St. Antoine. Notwithstanding his reinforcements the king was prisoner in his palace. Almost whilst I write, Paris has seen a renewal of these identical barricades, which tradition might have counselled. Some coincidences are singular. The barricade of the rue St. Antoine was in both cases first attacked. The Louvre has been in the nineteenth, as it was in the six

1588.

FLIGHT OF THE KING.

343

teenth century, the head-quarters of French and Swiss guards mingled. The Swiss were doomed then, as since, to slaughter. A post of them was surrounded in the Cemetery of the Innocents, now the market of the same name, and slain by the partisans of the league, notwithstanding their supplicating cries of Bon catholique, bon catholique! The king was at length obliged to fly from his palace, and take refuge, first at Chartres, and then at Rouen.

Many of the historians of the time cast blame alike on Henry for not having assassinated Guise, and on Guise for allowing Henry to escape. The crime out of the question, Guise was not sorry for the king's flight. The traitor wanted audacity, and always crouched in his sovereign's presence; but now he was master of the capital, and of a potent force, he was no longer overshadowed or controlled. His efforts were directed to legalise his usurpation, and his first attempt was to bend the president, Achille de Harlai, to his views. De Harlai looked at Guise, and then replied, ""Tis pitiable when the valet expels his master; as for me, my soul belongs to my Maker, and my fidelity to the king; my body alone is in the hands of the wicked. You talk of assembling the parliament: when the majesty of the prince is violated, the magistrate is without authority."

This opposition, as well as the inclination of the Parisians themselves, after the excitation of their revolt was over, to treat with the king and make use of his name at least, led Guise into more moderate measures. He proposed an arrangement, on condition that he should be appointed lieutenant-general of the kingdom, and that the states-general should be summoned at Blois to decide existing differences. Henry was weak enough to accede to these terms, and to sanction them by an edict of union, to the great discontent of Epernon, who at this juncture showed an indignant spirit that did him honour. As for Guise, his whole attentions were wisely directed towards the composition of the states, and the

For this he

appointment of deputies in his interest. postponed the war against the king of Navarre, and overlooked the feeble acts of the king, who showed his authority at this time by totally changing the members of his council.

The opening of the states took place at Blois on the 16th of October. The duke of Guise, as grand master of the household, presided over the arrangements. The king, than whom no one knew better how to support dignity upon occasion, spoke with mildness and address, venturing a slight reflection upon the turbulence of the late events; as if to try the temper of the assembly. Their silence showed them fully in the interests of the league; and Henry was obliged to retrench the offensive words in the copy of his speech that was printed. Guise henceforth began to advance in his demands. He wished to be constable as well as lieutenant-general, and to have a guard; but Henry showed adroitness in parrying all these attacks against his authority on the part of the states, as well as on that of the duke. The king, indeed, was superior in sagacity at this time to his rival, who proceeded irresolutely and vaguely, but gradually, towards the goal of his ambition. Henry saw clearly that it was now a struggle for life and death between him and the usurper. One must fall; and he, in falling, would probably not be spared. He therefore made his resolve, one from which it might be said that an accomplice of Charles IX. on St. Bartholomew's eve need not shrink. It was a crime; yet if the past weakness of Henry had not constituted the force of Guise, never would crime have been more amply excused by a sense of self-preservation and necessity.

Henry determined, in a word, to assassinate the duke. He consulted the brave Crillon. That soldier proposed to challenge Guise, and by sacrificing his own life in the combat make sure of slaying his adversary. He spurned the proposal to act the assassin, but promised to keep the king's secret. Henry found others less scrupulous than Crillon. Guise, in the mean time, was

1588.

GUISE ASSASSINATED.

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repeatedly warned of these hostile intentions: he affected to despise them, but he took every precaution. The king summoned a council to be held on the morning of the 23d of December: he wished, he said, to have the rest of the day for a party of pleasure. So early, Guise

As he mounted

was not attended by his intimate band. the stairs to council, the officers of the guard surrounded him, and used the most supplicating entreaties that he would procure for them their month's pay. This crowd of petitioners kept off the duke's friends, and he entered the council chamber alone. Here, however, were numbers the council was, in fact, assembled. Yet Guise, it is said, felt a misgiving: he was even unwell, and was obliged to call for a restoring draught. Perhaps he recollected the entreaties of his mistress, who that morning in vain endeavoured to dissuade him from attending the council. At this moment the king sent to summon Guise to his cabinet: the duke obeyed, and was engaged in lifting the tapestry of the door, when he was beset, his sword seized, and his body pierced by a number of wounds. His brother, the cardinal de Guise, was sent to prison, where he was soon after despatched by the halberds of his guards. Thus perished the original planners of the massacre of St. Bartholomew. who see the vengeance of heaven declared in the violent deaths of the perpetrators, in the misfortunes and extinction of their race, are not contradicted by these events.

Those

Twelve days after the assassination of the Guises expired the queen-mother, Catherine of Medicis, almost forgotten in the turmoil of the moment. Indeed, for a long time she had been usée, according to the French expression, which may mean morally worn out." No individual had ever produced a more pernicious effect upon a country than she had produced upon France. She introduced those habits of dissimulation and Machiavelian policy for which her country was famed. She taught them to her children, and communicated them to her court. When united, as they were in her, to extreme licentiousness of private morals, we can