THE
lHUGUENOTS OF FRANCE;
OR,
THE TIMES OF HENRY IV.
BY THE AXUTHOR OF ILVERTON RE;TORY, ALLAN CAMERON, EVELYN
PERCINAL, -,TC.
PUBLISHED BY TltE
AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY,
150 NASSAU-STREET, NEW YORK.




ENTERED according to Act of Congress, in the yeax 1864, by the
AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court
of the United States for the Southerr District of New York.




CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
Looking back —--       --------------------   -       5
CHAPTER II.
The Protestant pastor --------------------------  12
CHAPTER III.
Jane D'Albret and Henry of Navarre ---           -  23
CHAPTER IV.
Clouds in the political horizon ---------------------  33
CHAPTER Y.
Adele de Briancouirt- -  45
CHAPTER VI.
Hours of sunshinee-    --                            54
CHAPTER VII.
The Huguenots invited to Paris ----------— 6 —-----
CHAPTER VIII.
The marriage of the Prince --------------- - --- -  74




4                    CONTENTS.
CHAPTER IX.
The massacre of St. tBartholomew ------------------  86
CHAPTER X.
A narrow escape       ---        -----  97
CHAPTER XI.
A dlay at St. Florent —----------- 111
CHAPTER XII.
Aimee's story ------------------- ----------------- 126
CHAPTER XIII.
Old friends under new circumstances ------------- 139
CHAPTER XIV.
A pleasant surprise ------------- - ------------ -- 156
CHAPTER XV.
Mly visit to Englanld, and its consequences --------— 173
CHAPTER XVI.
The a"eession and death of Henry IV.                 185




THE
IIHUGUENOTS OF FRANCE;
OR THE
TIMES OF HENRY FOURTtI.
CHAPTER  1.;LOOKING BACK.
You have often asked it of.me, my
good and. dutiful children, that I should
recall some of the passages of my long
and eventful career, in such a manner as to
give them permanence as family records.
Hitherto I have shrunk from the task,
"For sorrow's memory is a sorrow still;"
and. there were many things connected
with the past so painful, that I could not
choose voluntarily to recall them.




6   THIE HUGUENOTS OF FRvANCE.
But time has brought healing on. its
wings; most of my contemporaries are
dead, and to-day the past comes back to
me so vividly, that I cannot turn away
from it.  Once more the silent and deserted halls of memory are filled with
fair women and brave men, and the old
blood rushes through my veins with something of the fire of youth. I will take
advantage of this unwonted mood, to
bring back some of those scenes of long
aro whtich attracted the attention of all
Europe at the time, and whose effects
are yet felt, thouugh more than half a century has passed away.
My own history derives its interest
from being closely connected with that
of the illustrious prince who forms the
central figure in my historic tableau.
My father, the Sieur de Beauvilliers,
belonged to an ancient and distinguished
family of Navarre, from whom he inlhere




LOOKING BACK.            7
ited the estate and chateau of St. Florent,
situated near the ancient town of Pau,
on a little tributary of the Adour. We
were surrounded by mountains, having
the wild Cevennes stretching far away
on our right, and on the other side the
Pyrenees, dimly visible in the distance,
forming the southern boundary of French
Navarre.
In his early youth my father spent
several years in Geneva, and there became acquainted with Calvin, Beza, and
other celebrated reformers, from whom
he learned the doctrines of the new faith;
and before attaining his majority adopted the Protestant belief, to which he
continued through life a firm adherent.
My mother was descended from a branch
of the family of Chatillon, and was related to Admiral Coligny and his brother
D'Andelot, the two celebrated leaders
of the luguenots in the early period of




8   THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
their long struggle for religious and civil
liberty..
That devotion to the cause of Protestantism which in my father was the
result of a passionate love of freedom,
rather than of deep religious feeling, was
in my gentle mother a matter of fervent
conviction; and while her intellect adopted the tenets of the Reformation as undeniable truths, her heart received them
into its deepest recesses as the thirsty
earth drinks in the blessed dew of heaven. On her lips was the law of kindness, and the most perfect exemplification of Christian character I ever saw or
expect to see on earth, was before my
eyes from infancy, in the person of that
lovely and beloved parent. One sister
shared with me the love and tenderness
which made our childhood so happy; a
bright, joyous girl, with a sensitive nature, which responded like the wincld-harp




LOOKI,NG BACK.           9
to every breath of joy or sorrow. In
those early days our mother was our
only instructress, and the hours spent by
Aimee and myself in her pleasant dressing-room, learning our daily tasks, while
she worked, or wrote, or read beside us,
are among the most delightful of my
childish recollections.
When lessons were over for the day,
we were permitted to wander at will in
the vicinity of the chateau, under the
care of Claudine, our faithful bonne, who
loved us so dearly that, to gratify our
lightest wish, she would willingly endure
any amount of privation and fatigue.
We climbed the neighboring mountains;
visited the caves and waterfalls hid in
their wildest recesses, and made friends
of the shepherds who tended their flocks
on the upland or in the valley, by the
pleasure with which we listened to their
simple ballads, and by our interest in




10  THE HUGUENOTS OF FRIANCE.
the welfare of their fleecy charge.  In
this way we became hardy and adventurous; so that when I was ten and
Aimee eight, few children, even in the
mountainous districts of Bearm and zNavarre, could excel us in speed or daring.
It is certain, however, that Aimee's courage was principally derived from  her
unselfish affection for her reckless brother.  Where I went, she wished always
to accompany me, and in her anxiety
for my safety, seemed utterly forgetful
of her own.  iMy sweet sister, I count it
one of the greatest blessings of my lot
that, before being exposed to the seductions of the most profligate court of Europe, such models of female purity and
excellence had been before me, that I
could never doubt the reality of virtue,
even in the midst of the most hideous
forms of vice. Happy the son and brother who, when vanity and folly are knock



LOOKING BACK.            11
ing  - at the door of his young heart, can
bidc them begone in the sacred nanme of
the mother and sisters whose cherished
images already fill the shrine.  But alas
for his safety if these household mnemlories are only a vanishing dream, destitute alike of tenderness and reality.
Al1mong mlly early friends many belonged
to this latter class, and I know that, in
their estimation, female virtue was but a
marketable commodity, and female truth
a myth, which no man in his senses would
ever dream of believing.




12 THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
CHAPTER II.
TIHE PROTESTANT PASTOR.
ONE afternoon in summer, just before
my tenth birthday, Aimee and myself
had gone with Claudine to a ccaumiznziere
or hut among the hills, for the purpose
of carrying something from my mother
to the sick andc poor peasant who occupied it. Our road was full of beauty:
now leading through a ravine by the
side of a rushing mountain torrent, over
which we passed on a rude bridge thrown
across by the peasantry; at another time
winding through some sheltered forest
glade, where the tall trees arching over
our heads, and the wild flowers blooming beneath our feet, drew from us exclamations of pleasure at every step.
We bad reached a small opening in




THE PROTESTANT PASTOR.   13
the forest covered with verdure, and
known to the country people by the
name of "'The Lady's Bower," from some
ancient tradition, when we saw a man of
venerable appearance, with hair and
beard of snowy whiteness, leaning as he
walked on a trusty staff, while a wallet
slung over his shoulder marked him as a
traveller.  He approached as we came
in sight, and with a manner peculiarly
gentle, inquired if we could tell him the
way to the Castle of St. Florent.  Claudine was solne steps behind us, and I
was hesitating what answer to return,
when, contrary to her usual custom, for
she was timid as a fawn in the presence
of strangers, Aiinmee exclained,
"Oh yes, we can, for that is our home,
and papa and mamma are there."
"Are you then the daughter of the
Sieur de Beauvilliers, my little maiden?"'
tle:stranger asked with a pleasant shlile.




14  THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
"Yes, I am his little Aim6e, and this
is my big brother Henri, who is very;rtave, and always takes care of me."
"A good character you give him, my
little friend, and I trust he may continue
to deserve it. But if you are going to
the chateau, will you permit me to accomlpany you, for I was on my way there
from Montauban when I lost myself on
the mountain."
Without speaking, Aimee placed her
little hand confidingly in that of the
stranger, and I led the way, while Claudine followed in the rear of the little
party.
When we arrived at the chateau, and
saw the respect and affection with which
our companion was received by our parents, we congratulated ourselves on having brought home a guest so welcome;
and our joy was increased on learning
that our visitor was the excellent Victor




TI-E PROTESTANT PASTOR.   15
Fauchet, one of those devoted pastors
who in the darkest days of persecution
refused to forsake their flock, but went
firom place to place in constant jeopardy
of life, strengthening the weak and comforting the desponding.
This was my first introduction to iM.
Fauchet, a man to whom I afterwards
owed so much, and my childish heart
was drawn to him at once, for there was
in his aspect a sweetness mingled with
dignity which was singularly attractive.
I was never happier than when attending him in the long walks he was accus-.
tomned to take a-mong the hills in search
of the scattered members of his flock..
None but those who have belonged to
a proscribed and persecuted church can
imagine the joy with which' those hunted
disciples, hiding in dens and caves, greeted a spiritual guide so loved and trusted
as AM. Fauchet.  They welcomedl him




16  THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
with tears of joy; they hung on his
words with breathless interest; and when
he left them, thanked God that they hadi
once more enjoyed the privilege of looking in his face, andc prayed for a thousand blessings on his head. The good
pastor had not been long at St. Florent,
when my father proposed to him to take
charge of my education, which until then
had been carried on in a very desultory
manner. As Henry II. of France, urged
on by the Cardinal Lorraine, was doing
all in his power to destroy' te Huguenots, M. Fauchet accepted the proposition, on the condition that when a wider
field of usefulness miglht open, he should
be at liberty to leave.
My father was often absent from home,
being entrusted by his sovereign, the
aged king of Navarre, with various important missions to the court of France,
the Low Countries. and England, whose




THE PROTESTANT PASTOR.   17
lion-hearted queen was looked upon as
the  hope  and stay of Protestantism
througlhout Europe.
On one of these occasions, when -I.
Fauchet and I had been absent for some
hours, on our return we found the chateau in a state of unusual commotion.
The courtyard was filled with men and
horses, and as soon as my companion
saw the badges worn by the former, with
an exclamation of surprise he hastened
into the house.  Lights were gleaming
in every apartment, servants were carryin-g and obeying  orders, and it was
some time before I could find my mother
or sister to inquire what had happened
to turn our quiet abode into such a scene
of confusion.' "Why, Ienri," said Aim6e with a little air of importance, "dlo n't you know
our mother has a cousin who is a brave
soldier and such a great man, and his
Fl11ille7nots of Fraince.  2




18  THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
name is D'Andelot, and he came here
to-day with papa, and they are in the
saloon?"
"Papa here, and I knew nothing of
it!" I exclaimed as I ran into the saloon
to see and welcome him. My father
introduced me to the famous Huguenot
leader, who received me with marked
kindness sayin g to my father,
"Your boy, my good lord, is a genu-.
inc scion of the old Norman stock, and
will, I am sure, do honor to the name.
As for my fair cousin here, she has transnitted the traits of her southern blood to
this little blossom," pointing to Aimnee
who was in her usual place of refufie, the
arms of my good  tutor,
General D'Andelot gave to my. father
and NM. Fauchlet the particulars of an in.terview between the king of France and
himself; and though I was thong.t to be
too young to take an interest in the con



THE PROTESTANT PASTOR.    19
versation, the incident made an indelible
impression on my mind. The two brothers, Coligny and D'Andelot, had both
embraced the reformed religion; but the
admiral, naturally calm  and reserved,
said little about his new faith, though he
would have Udied for it cheerfully, while
D'Andelot boldly avowed his principles
on all occasions, and denounced  the
church of Rome as antichrist.  Henry,
whose first lessons in war were taken
from the famous general, refused to believe him  a heretic, and would hear
nothing against the stout old warrior,
until lie was induced by Cardinal Lorraine to summon the accused to Paris to
answer for himself.
At the table of his royal master the
brave  H-luguenot not only avowed his
tirm belief in the doctrines of the Reformation,  but declared that he regarded
the popish sacrifice of the ma'ss as an act




20  THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
of gross impiety. The monarch was both
bigoted and irritable; and this confession
excited his wrath to such a degree, that
he started from the table, and seizing a,
plate, was about to hurl it at the man
who had ventured thus to brave his anger.  He held it poised for a moment;
then, like a child who dares not give full
vent to his wrath, he threw it to the floor
with such violence that one of the fragmlients wounded the dauphin, afterwards
Francis II., who was sitting by him at
the table.  D'-Andelot retired from the
presence of the king, but was arrested
the same day and thrown into prison,
where he remained for some months,
until released through  the influence of
his uncle the Constable Montmnorenci,
while the church of Rome was urging
the French'king to have him burned as
a heretic.  The hero sternly refused to
renounce, or even to conceal Iris faith:




THE PROTESTANT PASTOR.    21
still the offices of which he had been deprived were restored to him One by one,
and the Protestant cause seemed to have
gained a triumph in the successful resistance of a man, so renowned to the power
of the Pope.
While he remained at the chateau it
was a scene of constant bustle and excitement.  Messengers were coming and
going from different quarters, the neighboring gentry who were friends to the
Huguenot cause came together frequently, and every thing indicated the presence of a master-spirit in the province.
My father entered heart and soul into
the plans of the general; but my mother,
clasping Aime'e in her arms, prayed fervently that the bloody strife, which she
plainly foresaw, might, if possible, still be
averted.
"We have always prospered most as
a church," she said to my father, "when




22   THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
most obscure and depressed.  I fear, my
dear lord, lest in the heat of civil strife
the pure precepts of our divine Master
may be forgotten or disre(garded."
"Thou art so nearly a saint, sweet
wife," he replied, "that I almost fear to
see thee unfold some hidden wings and
float upward before mine eyes.  But I
and my brethren in arms, while we are
ini the flesh, must have some regard to
tihe saving of our bodies as well as souls,
and I warrant thee that to do this something besides prayer is necessary.'' 
"'It may be so; but do not forget, dear
husband and lord, that a religion of externals only is not worth fighting for, and
only while we maintain the life of God in
our hearts can we expect hhis blessing on
our efforts even in his service."




COURT OF NAVARRE.         23
CHAPTER  III.
JANE D'ALBRET AND HENRY OF
NAYARRE.
SooN after the departure of the Huguenot chief, my father was summoned
on business to the castle of Pau, at that
time the residence of the court of Navarre, and for the first time in my life I
was permitted to accompany him. The
castle was a grand and imposing structure, built on a bold eminence on the
Gave, a small, sluggish stream  which,
after winding its way between low-lying.
banks through most of its course, falls at
length into the Garonne.
The numerous tapering and concave
roofs of this old kingly residence, its salient angles, its towers' and curtains, embrasures and loops, give it an appear



24  THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
ance of great antiquity as well as strength,
and render it venerable and grand, rather
than picturesque, in its general appearance. Like most feudal castles, it is built
round a wide courtyard in tlhe centre,
from whence you look up to irregular
rainges of windows and carved masonry,
even then worn and grey with time. The
state apartments overlooked the river
and valley, and just below them  is a
bIroad terrace on which a garden had
bleen planted, with straight rows of plum
and pear trees running through  it at
right anules.
My father entered the chateau through
thle grand portal'situated between two
frowning and' impregnable towers, and
was ushered at once into the cabinet of
the king, leavin  mene alone in the antechllamber.  I was examining the objects
around me with childish curiosity, when
a page touched my arm, and bicdding ie




COU1iT OF NAVARRE. 2.
follow him, led the way into the garden
of which I have spoken.  I followed my
guide up one alley and down another,
until we came to a place where several
persons were standing, among whom my
boyish instinct at once selected the
Duchess de Vendome, only child of the
king of Navarre, anid heiress to the
throne. Her dress was simple, even to
severity, and she wore no insignia of
rank, but there was an. innate dignity in
her air and manner which could not be
mistaken.  Without hesitation I approached her, and kneeling, kissed the
hand she extended to me, as I had been
taught was the etiquette on such occasions.  The duchess smliled graciously,
and said to one of her attendants,
"See, Justine, the varlet knows where
Ihis homrage is due. It would be well if
his elders had equal sagacity."
The young lady blushed at this re



26   THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
mark, which she seemed to understand,
and turning away, left me with the princess, who questioned me concerning nmy
parents, sister, and myself, to which I
returned answers as brief as possible, for
I was far from feeling at ease in my present situation. Jane D'Albret, afterwards
Queen of Navarre, and one of the nursing-mothers of the Reformation in France,
was a tall and finely formed woman, with
a carriage full of grace and dignity, and
an eye that pierced one like a flash of
light. IHer face was grave and almost
st.ern when in repose, but her smile had
a marvellous sweetness, and her voice
was low and musical in its tones.  She
was more highly educated than  most
women of rank of that dlay, and understood thorougohly all the arts of diplonacy, though she loathed the vile intrigues
in which her political rival Catharine de
Medicis was constantly engave(l.




COURT OF NAVARtRE.        27
But it is not to be supposed that all
this was before my' mind as I stood beside the princess in the garden. On the
contrary, my attention was absorbed in
watching the movements of a boy apparently of my own age, who was coming
slowly towards us, in obedience to the
sunmimons of a page.
"Come hither, my son," said  the
duchess, holding out her hand to the
boy, "ancl let me present to you a playfellow, and I hope a future friend, in
Henri de Beauvilliers, the son of our
dear and well-tried friends at St. Florent."
The boy kissed his mother's hand with
the easy grace of a much older courtier,
and then turning to me, said with a frank
courtesy which well became his open and
joyous countenance,
"I am glad to see a namesake who
looks as if he would not disgrace the




28   THIE IUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
name.  There are three Henries of us
already: Henry  of Anjou, Henry of
Guise, and Henry of Navarre; and now
there is a fourth, Henri de Beauvilliers."
HIe laughed with boyish glee as he said
this, and I joined heartily in the merri1ent, after which we soon found ourselves on terms of tolerable intimacy.
HIe took ime to see his splendid Spanish
jennet, his falcons, and a mimic fortifieation of his own construction, and said
to mne confidentially,
"I don't live here, you must'know,
for my gurandfather thinks a prince should
never be trained up by women; so I live
at the Castle of Courasse with my tutor
M. AIontfaucon,  and I assure you that
the poorest peasant-boy in Bearn does
not sleep or fare more hardly than his
priInce.  But I care not, for it will all
make me more brave and bold, and my
motto is,' Conquer or die.' I mean to




COURT OF NAVARRE.         29
do it too, when I am old enough," he
continued, his fine face all in a glow,
"for I have just been to the Court of
France with my parents, and though I
am only a boy, I could read that wicked
queen as easy as my missal.  She hates
my mother and me, and would hate my
father, only that she is not afraid of
him. But never mind; I shall be a mian
some day, and then they shall fear, if
they do not love me, or I am much mistaken."
I looked on my young companion with
a feeling of awe as he uttered these words
in a tone of stern determnination so unsuited to his years.  A  few moments
since he was a laughing, happy boy; now
he stood there with all a man's firmness
and decision written on his brow. Nature had evidently formed him for conzmaud, and he seemed to ntme then, what
I always afterwards considered him, the




30  THIIE HUGUENOTS OF FIRANCE.
very model of a princely leader of brave
YInen.
Such was my first interview  with
Henry of lNavarre, afterwards the celebrated Henry Fourth of France-Henri
Quatre; and from that hour to the day of
his early and lamented death,I loved him
as a brother, and revered him as one of
the noblest and bravest of men.
In a few weeks after my visit to Pau,
the old king died, and Anthony Duc de
Vendonme and his wife Jane D)'Albret
succeeded him as king and queen of Navarre.  They went to Paris soon after
the accession, with the young prince, to
be present at the marriaoge of the Dauphin Francis to Mary Stuart the beautiful and unfortunate queen of Scotland.
Henry of Navarre was even then greatly
ad mlt ired for his manly and engaging qualities; and it was remarked of hinm by an
old courtier, that he was more of a king




COURT OF'NAVARRE.         31
in person and manners than his father,
or his cousin the king of France.
After the return of the king and queen
to Navarre, the education of the young
prince went on as usual, though he now
resided with the court at Pan or NIerae,
where the royal family spent several
months of every year. He came often
to St. Florent, and as my holidays were
usually spent with him, we became inseparable.  Ainmee sometimes cormplained that she had lost her brother; for as
we grew older, our tastes and amusements became more dissimilar, and when
the young prince was with mle, our sports
were of *a nature so daring, and as they
now seem to me so foolhardy, that it was
quite impossible for Aimne  to join us.
Still I almost worshipped my gentle and
beautiful sister, and was never happier
thalin when I could persuade the prince
to join me in preparing for her some




32  TIHE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
little surprise on a festival or birthday.
Henry was inclined to look down on the
gentler sex from the height of a fancied
superiority, and looked upon it as a condescension on our part to seek to give
pleasure to a young girl. But he was
too good-natured to refuse, and the innocent delight manifested by Aimee when
she found us planning for her enjoyment,
was a sufficient reward for all our toil.
ir~




POLITICAL HOR IZON.       33
CHAPTER IV.
CLOUDS IN THE POLITICAL HORIZON.
WHILE ill the quiet province of'Neavarre we were amusing ourselves with
the sports and recreations of youth, the
most important changes were going on in
other portions of the kingdom, of which
we as yet knew nothing.
Henry II. was dead, having been killed
in a mock tournament by a splinter from
the lance of his antagonist passing through
his eye into the brain. Francis II., the
husband of Mary Stuart, was nominally
king, though the queen mother Catharine
de Medicis was in reality at the head of
affairs.
The kingdomi was agitated to its centre
by religious dissensions, and as a last resort, a conference was proposed between
Huguencis of France.  3




31   THIE  UGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
some of the leading reformers on one side,
and the Cardinal Lorraine on the other,
in which all points of difference should
be fully and freely discussed.  All the
great dignitaries of the kingdom  were
invited to be present, and though at first
the plan was opposed by the Pope, lihe
yielded at length, and the disputants
met at a place called Poissy, whence the
coniference was called the " Colloquy of
Poissy."
Theodore Beza, Peter Martyr, and others less distinguished, were present, and
for several days pleaded the cause of the
Reformation with so much learning, moderation, and piety, that Queen Jane of
N5avarre, who was present, became a convert t, the truth, which was ever after
dearer to her tha'n life.  Her hnusband,
on the other hand, weak and vacillating,
thougth he had previously favored the
new doctrines, went back to RPomanism,




POLITICAL HORIZON'.        35
frightened, as he said, to see the wide
difference between  the  two  systems,
which he had supposed very nearly connected.  The young prince, however,
was committed to the care of his mother,
to be trained up in her faith, as Anthony
was unwilling to burden himself with the
care of his education.
When the conference was ended the
queen returned to Navarre, but the king
remained in Paris, vainly hoping to obtain from the court a recognition of his
lights as the first Peer of France and
Governor of Guienne. This was denied;
and instead of solid advantages, the
doubtful distinction was accorded him of
escorting the young Princess Elizabeth,
who had been recently betrothed to the
king of Spain, to Bayonne, where her husbIand was to receive his bride. The royal
party passed through Navarre, and spent
a few days at 1Nerae, where all was life




36  THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
and gayety during their stay. The young
queen of Spain was charmed with her boy
cousin, and the attachment then formed,
strengthened as it was by a subsequent
interview, was the means of saving Henry
and his mother from the dungeons of the
Inquisition. A plot had been formed by
the king of Spain, the Pope, and Catharine de AMedicis, to seize Queen. Jane and
her son, and convey them over the Pyrenees into Spain, when the inquisitor-general was to relieve them of all further
care in the disposal of the illustrious victims. Just before this nefarious plan was
to have been carried out, it came to the
knowledge of the queen through one of
her gentlemen in waiting, to whom the
chief agent had confessed it while dangerously sick in Madrid. Elizabeth sent
instant warning to the queen of Navarre,
who took measures to provide for her
own safety and that of her son. She also




POLITICAL HOlIZON.         37
despatched a messenger to Paris, to inforlll the queen mother of the base treachery contemplated by Philip and the Pope.
Catharine, hoping that her share in the
project was not suspected, instantly gave
orders for the arrest of the agents, who
were sacrificed to secure the safety of
their perfidious mistress.
Meanwhile the young Henry, the object of so many hopes and fears, plots
and counterplots throughout the kingdom, was quietly pursuing a course of
mental and physical traininog at the college of Montauban.  The four HenriesHenry of Anjou, afterwards Henry III.
of France; Henry of Guise, the bloody
leader of St. Bartholomew; Henry of
Navarre, and Henri de Beauvillierswere all m1embers of one class, and inseparable companions.  The prince of
Bearn and myself were stouter and better grown than the others, and I may




38  THE HUGUENOTS OF FrIANCE.
say without vanity that we were far in
advance of them in intellectual attainments, since in my own case it was all
owing, under God, to my excellent tutor
and friend M. Fauchet.
It has been said there is no royal road
to learning; but of him it was certainly
true, that he knew how to make the path
of knowledge so attractive, that it was a
pleasure to walk therein.
Henry of Anjou was vain, frivolous,
and crafty, devoted to low pleasures, and
incapable of generous emotions.  Henry
of Guise, at that period of his life, seemed honest and constant in his attachment
to his friends, but haughty, revenmgeful,
and implacable to his enemies.  My
prince was then what he  continued
through life, frank, generous, and forbearing almost to a fault, brave alndl
chivalric as the Spaniish Cid, but so folind
of -)leasure and amusement as sometimes




POLITICAL HORIZON.          39
to sacrifice the most important interests
in their pur'suit.  But even while olne
blamed, it was impossible to avoid loving him; and never, since the days of
Edward  the Black Prince of England,
had there been a' leader more fitted in
every way to awaken the enthusiastic
devotion of his followers than lFenfv of
Navarre.
I was fifteen, and the prince a fexw
-nonths older, when we were sumumonled
to NTerae, where the court then was, to
meet thlne queen mother, who was on a
progress through the kingdom, intending
to visit her daughter the queen of Spain.
She was accompanied by a bevy of beautiful young maidelns, amuonrg whom her
daughter Ma1rgaret of Valois, a girl of
fourteen, shone conspicuous for grace
and beauty.  In conformity with her
cra-fty plan of flattering the HlIguenots,
tUhe more effectually to destro3y them,




40  THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
Catharine made a long stay at Nerae,
where she exerted her utmost skill in
captivating the imagination of the young
prince, in whom  the crafty Italian already saw a powerful ally, or a dangerous enemy. She called him her son, and
spoke openly of the wish of thle two kings
of Freance and Navarre for a union between Henry and Margaret. She threw
the young people constantly together;
but Margaret, who was at that early age
a finished coquette, had taken a decided
aversion to her cousin, and on his part
he was totally indifferent to her charms.
Absorbed as he was in higher pursuits,
there were no symptoms at that age of
the fatal subjection to female charms
which exerted so unhappy an influence
over him in -after-life.
Whlen Catharine left N\erae, the queen
of Navarre, with a brilliant retinue,
among whom was my sweet sister Aimee,




POLITICAL HORIZON.         41
ac,companied her to Bayonne, where we
were met by the queen of Spain, with a
numerous escort. of Spanish grandees,
Among all this assembly, made up of the
flower of the French and Spanish courts,
Henry of Navarre was first in all manly
graces and' acquirements, -insomuch that
the Duke of Medina exclaimed,
"It seems to me that this young prince
is either an emperor in disguise, or deserves to be one."
Nature had made him every inch a
lking, and the teachings of his mother
were well calculated to develop the resources of a singularly ardent and gifted
mind. She kept constantly before him
the fact that lie had been solemnly dedicated to the defence of the Protestant
faith; and the year following the visit to
Spain., when war was again raging between the Catholics and Huguenots, she
brought HI-enry to the camp at Tonnay




42   THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
Chareonte, wlhere the forces were assembled, and in an animated address pointed
him out to the troops as the destined
leader of the Protestant cause.
"My son is still young," she said;
" but, who have read h-im like an open
book from infancy, tell you that if his
life is spared, you will know that God
has raised hinm u-p for this special purpose, endowing him with the very qualities necessary for it.  Mleantime vou
have in Admiral Coligny a general who,
firom  his wisdom, skill, and valor, ranks
among  the foremost captains of Europe.".
The army received its young chief
w-ith the greatest enthusiasm, and could
hardly be persuaded  to s.ffer him  to
return to Navarre for the completion of
his education.  His father was killed
soon after this at the siege of Rouen, and
it became necessary for Jane and her




POLITICAL I ORIZON.          143
son to visit the French court.  They
were cordially receivedl and treated with
great kindness; but when the queen lef't
Paris, Henry was detained on some trifling pretence, and for more th.an a year
remained in a kind of honorable captivity in Paris.  To the repeated messages
of Jane, answers were returned which
convinced her that Catharine-did not intend to suffer hir to leave for Navarre.
WXith her usual courage and decision,
the queen went instantly to Paris, and
after a week of waiting, dur'ing which
her plans were formed, she succeeded in
escaping with her son during a grandl
hunt in the forest of Fontainebleau.  A
few  faithful followers were in waiting,
and the little party travelled day and
nig'ht until they reached a place of safety.
The queen mother was excessively indi ~gant, but with her usual skill at disserll blilg, she selnt friendly messages to




44  T'E HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
Queen. Jane, assuring( her that Henry
had always been at liberty to depart, and
that she desired nothing more fervently
than a union between the two houses,
which should insure the tranquillity of
France.
7""i




ADELE DE BRIANCOURT.        45
CHAPTER V.
ADELE DE BRIANCOUtRT.
AFTER my return from  the camp,
whither I accompanied the queen and
prince, I went back to Montauban to
resume the course of study interrupted
by that event.  Of all the four Henries,
only one besides myself, the young duke
of Guise, remained; and as we had never
suited each other, I was quite alone. M.
Fauchet came often to Montauban to visit
a grandchild who was at school there,
but I had never seen her, and was ignorant even of her name.
One summer evening —how well I remellmber the time! — when there had been
a festival of some kind in the town, and
the streets were unusually full of noise
and riot, I was returning from college to




46  THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
my lodgings, when I saw before me two
females walking hastily and evidently
anxious to avoid observation.  They
were muffled in heavy cloaks, which
nearly concealed the face and form, but
enough of both was visible to show that
one of theim was young and beautiful.
They had nearly reached the public
square, when in a narrow alley leading
to it they were rudely assailed by two
ruffians, who attemptedl to pull the cloak
away from the younger of the two, exclaiming with an oath that they had
-found a prize, and would not let it go.
Not a word was spoken by the lady,
though she struggled bravely to release
herself from the grasp of the villain, but
the other female uttered shriek upon
shriek as she saw her companion in such
peril. Without waiting to think of the
odds against me, I drew the short sword
worn by young noblemen at that timle,




ADELE DE BRIANCOURT.         47
and rushing  forward, gave a sudden
thrust at the taller of the two fellows,
which compelled him to relinquish his
hold.  It was so clark that he could not
at once distinguish his assailant, and as
a'crowd was collecting, called together
by the screams of the ~woman, both the
men fled; and though pursued by one or
two officers, succeeded in making their
escape. AMeantime the young lady turned
to me, and in a voice which seemaed to
me the most musical I had ever heard,
thanked me for my timely assistalnce,
and requested me to make way for them
through the crowd, as they wished to
escape as quickly as possible.  Haaving
done this, andcl escorted them in safety to
the public square, the unknown turned
to me, saying,
"We are near home and in perfec.t
securitr; here then we must part, but
accept our thanks for your great kind



48  TIE HUGUENOTS OF FtRANCE.
ness, and be assured we shall never forget it."
"No thanks are due to me," I replied,
"for a common act of humanity. I should
be a degenerate Beauvilliers if I could
be deaf to the call of insulted womanhood."
"Beauvilliers!" she repeated; "can
this be Henri Beauvilliers of St. Florent?"
"It certainly is the same; but how
am I so happy as to be known to you?"
" Oh, that is easily explained," she
replied with the  charming  frankness
which marked her character; "I am
Adele  Briancourt, the  grandchild  of
your tutor M. Fauchet, and he has talked of you so much that I seemn to know
you well.  How strange that you should
he the one to save me from those fearful
mnen;" and she shuddered as she spoke.
The voice was music, the language indi



ADELE DE BRIANCOUltT.         49
cated culture and refinement, but the
face —ah, that was concealed by the envious darkness that shrouded us in its
mantle.
"And now that you know who I am,
dear lady, will you not allow me to accompany you home?"
"Not to-night,"' she replied quickly,
"for I wish to get in as quietly as possible; but at any other time, if you
choose to call on aMadame Toulaian my
aunt, she will doubtless be glad to welcomel you, and i should be very ungrateful to be otherwise."
I was obliged to content myself with
this admission, but as I retraced my steps
towardcls home my thoughts were  oecupied with the adventure, and I resolved
to follow out the acquaintance as speedily as possible.  Two days afterwards i
called at the house of Malcdanme Tonulan,
and was formally introduced to her niece
I.i;ueno ts of France..




50  THE HIUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
Aiademloiselle Briancourt.  She was two
years younger than I, but fart more mature in person and mind, though she had
all the simplicity and joyous freshness of
early youth. Her large hazel eyes were
soft and pleading as those of the gazelle,
though when flashing with deep emotion
they were brilliant as stars; and in that
sweetest face 06e might read, as in a mirror, every feeliing of the soul.  She was
taller than Aimee and more critically
beautiful, but the same dove-like innocence and purity beamed through every
expressive feature of both these fair
maidenls.
Adele, as an orphan, had been early
thrown  on her own resources, while
Aimn6e, tenderly sheltered acnd cherished, was stronlg only through her affections.  To my great surprise no allusion.
was made by Adele to the adventure of
the Rue de Marais, and in the presence




ADELE DE BRIANCOURLT.       51
of her aunt she received me as a stranger.  But when Madame Toulan was
&clled firom the room, her manner changed instantly as she said with a smile,
"I must waive ceremony, monsieur.
while I explain to you in a few words
the situation in which you found me the
other night. It was absolutely necessary
to get word to my grandfather and  M.
Beauvilliers of a plot formed by the Duke
of Guise to gain possession of the young
prince and carry him to Paris.  There
was no one but myself to act as messenger, since my aunt, though good and true,
is unfortunately fond of talking, and cannot keep a secret. I was obliged therefore to take a faithful servant, and go by
stealth to find thle young lad who carries
letters fronm here to St. Florent, and froum
thence to MIontauban.  WTe were unavoidably  delayed  and you know  the
rest.'"




52   TIlE HUGUENOTS OF FRIANCE.
"But was your errand successful?" I
inquire(d, for I had a deep interest in the
result.
"I trust so, as the lad was found atr
last and instantly sent off to the chateau
WTe have so many aecret friends scattered over the country, that it is nearly
impossible for our enemies to keep their
designs wholly concealed from us.  But
more than all, God is on our side, and
you know he can make.one to chase a
thousand, and two to put ten thousand
to flighlt."
The face of thile young~ enthusiast was
radiant with faith and hope, and in my
admiration I hIad uncQnsciously drawn
nearer to her than our supposed acquaintance warranted; so as a step was heardt
approachinfg, I resumed my seat, and
with it the forlality which became me
as a sttrauger. MIy endeavor to please
mladlame was so far successful, that she




ADELE DE BRIANCOURT,         53
gave me a cordial invitation to renew
my visit, a compliment which I need not
say was thankfnlly accepted.
I went again and again, and usually
sazw Adele on these occasions, though
once or twice I fancied, from the arch
look on her sunny. face, that she was not
sorry to plead an engagement, which left
me alone to play the agreeable to her
aunt, a task so adroitly performed, that
the good lady averred she had never met
a youncg gentleman of so much good sense
and jucdgment as A. Henri Beanvilliers.
Her house, from which until now all
young men, and especially members of
the college, bad been rigidly excluded,
was always open to me, and for the first
time since going to Ioontauban, I found
the town so pleasant a place of residence,
that the thought of change was unwelcoln e.




4  rrTIlE HUGIJENOTS OF FRANCE.
CH APTER  VI.
HOURS OF SUNSHINE.
IF my vanity was ever fed by the
good opinion of Madame Toulan, it experiencedl  a salutary drawback in the
very different manner of her young companion.  One day when I had been so
foolish as to address Adele in the strain
of flattery and compliment in' vogue at
the French court, she turned to me suddenly, saying,
"IHenri, my friend, you are doing
strange injustice to yourself and me.
You are attempting to pass off false coin
upon me for true. It is counterfeit, and
you know it, so it is utterly worthless in
my eyes. If we were both older, I should
think it necessary to be indignant; but
as we are little more than children, I tell




HOURS OF SUNSHINE.          55
you plainly I like you far better as your
own honest self, than when you borrow
French frippery and folly,"
I felt very much lile the traveller in
the fairy tale, who, on bringing forward
his beads and trinkets to propitiate the
favor of the inhabitants of a certain city,
found themnall transformed into rags and
pebble-stolnes. Adele saw my mnortification, and laughed gayly.
" You need not look so disconcerted,
Henri; for if I cannot appreciate insincere compliments, I can understand kind
deeds and noble sentiments, and these,
r am sure, I may always expect from a
Beauvilliers."
How sweet were the hours spent in
the society of this lovely and innocent
maiden, whose thoughts and feelings had
all the dewy freshness of life's early
morn, combined  with the maturity  of
riper years.  Hitherto I had known the




56  TI-IE HUGUENOTS OF FRiANCE.
other sex chiefly through my mother and
sister, who were to mne types of all that
is lovely or estimable in woman.  During my short stay at the French court, I
was shocked at the forwardness and disgusted with the frivolity of the beauties
who fluttered about the queen mother,
and boy as I was, turned away with a
sick heart from  all their fascinations.
IBut here was a young girl who possessed
)eauty without vanity, wit without bitterness, and a power of attraction I had
ie-ver seen equalled, without the slight(est taint of coquetry.  Still no thought
of love came to trouble my dreamn of
happiness.  Adele was to me only an
uolder and imore charming Aimee; and if
we had been in reality children of the
I,,a1me parents, our intercourse could not
lhave been more strictly fraternal in its
tcharacter.
In France, at that day, paremnts hIad




HOURS.OF SUNSHINE.          57
the,absolute disposal of their children in
mllarriage; and no consideration of imutualaffection was ever suffered to influence
them  in forming the nuptial contract.
This state of things prevented a healthful development of the affections even in
those rare instances in which any thing
like intimacy existed between the sexes.
The higher nobility, it is true, cared
little for the laws of God or man on this
subject, but thle influence of our good
queen had thus far preserved Bearn and
Navarre from the moral contagion which
overspread the other provinces of France.
r)Our youno prince had been so long, at
the court of Catlarinne, that his principles were in some degree unsettledl, and
his manners had not wholly escaped the
infection; but the standard of morality
among both classes, the lords and peasantry, was far higher in the remote provinces than elsewhere.




58  THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
Adele de Briancourt was the daughter
of a Flemish nobleman who married the
only child of M. Fauchet, takilng her to
iruges, whither her father soon followed.
M. Briancourt had been appointed by
William of Orange governor of the important town and fortress of Courtrai,
which place he gallantly defended for
weeks against a large body of Spanish
troops sent by Philip of Spain to reduce
it.  In a sortie made by the garrison,
with the hope of compelling the enemy to
raise the siege, the brave governor lost
his life; and as no reinforcements were
sent from William, Courtrai was forced
to surrender, making the best terms possible with a savage and infuriated foe.
The town was given up to sack and pillage; but by a providence almost miraculous, MI. Fauchet, with his widowed
daughter and her infant child, escaped
over the frontier, and made their way




IHOURS OF SUNSHINE.         59
to Montauban, as M. Briancourt had a
sister residing in that town.
The fugitives were kindly received
and sheltered by Madame Toulan, who
was a widow in easy circumstances, and
strongly attached to the Protestant faith,
though her propensity to gossip made
her an unsafe depositary of state secrets.
After seeing his daughter comfortably
settled, M. Fauchet resumed his former
employment, that of visiting churches
and individuals of the reformned faith,
who were scattered througlhout France.
The father and child never met again.
Before his return the youthfiul widow
had gone where the wickedl cease from
troubling, and the weary are at rest,
leaving the youlng Aldele to the care of
her grandfather and aunt, by both of
whom  she was cherished as the most
precious thing on earth.  FHer education
lhad been carefully condlucted, and though




60  THIE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
she lived in strict retirement, the native
refinement and grace of her manners fitted her for any society in the land.
On my first visit at St. Florent after
meeting Adele, I related the circumstances to my mother and sister, begging the
former to invite her to the chateau, as
Aimee had never enjoyed the pleasure
of companionship with a young girl of
her own age and rank.  As I closed my
earnest appeal, my dear mother rei)lied
with a smile,
"Yo-u are a skilful pleader, my Henri;
but even if I were to consent to your
suit, vwhich I am strong ly inclined to do,
you forget that there is another to be consulted, who might reg-nard the subject in
quite another lighlt.  From the fact that
our friend M. Fauchet has never spoken
to us of bringing his grandchild hither,
I imagine you would have some dlifficlty
in gaining his consent to the proposal."




HOURS OF SUNSHINE.          61
"Have I your permission to make the
attempt now, my mother?"
"You have it, my sol, and mgy very
best wishes for your success, for I see in
my Aimne's eyes that she is longing for
a sight of this promised friend and companion."
The pastor was absent with my father,
but I took the first opportunity after his
return of addressing him on the subject.
Hle heard me patiently, and answered
with his usual kindness,
"I have not been ignorant, mlly youngll.f
friend, of the acquaintance between you
and my grandchild, for every thing that
concerns her is important to me.  But
for my perfect confidence in you both,
the intercourse would long since have
been broklen up, for there can be nothi-ng
in common between you and her.  Na,.
May son, you need not exonerate yoursel'.
I know fiull well that no thoughts but




62  THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
those of friendship have entered your
heart; but I have long studied human
nature, and I know too that friendship
between two young persons like yourself
and Adele, neither of whom are destitute of attractions, is not exactly safe for
either.  But you have nearly reached
manhood, and stirring times are comings-times which demand the best energies of all who love the Protestant cause
to save our threatened liberties.  Your
father is about to join Conde, who is in
arms, and will take you with him, that
your first lessons in war may be taken
under his eye and at his side. Then, if
your mother wishes for the society of my
child to enliven the solitude of your sister, it will be my duty and pleasure to
brling her to the chateau."
I was far from being satisfied with this
concession; but the joy with which I
found that I was to join my father at the




HOIUTIS OF SUNSHINE.        63
camp of Condcl  overcame every other
feeling.  In a few weeks I took leave of
Montauban and of Adele, who said to
me with glowin( cheeks and sparkling
eyes, as she gave me her hand,
"You are going, my friend, to fight
for that which is dearer to us both than
life itself; but do not forget that you
leave a mother and two sisters, to whom
ryour safety is very precious, and who
will be constantly praying for your welfare and success."
I could only utter the word farewell;
but as I turned away the secret vow was
registered in heaven, that with God's
help I would prove myself worthy the
affection lavished on me by those beloved ones who were watching and praying
for me at home.
I cannot go into the particulars of my
first campaign. Marchings and countermarchings, successes and defeats, all are




6 4  THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
mriingled together in my remembrance of
those months in camp.  The glorious
banner of Condc', on which wvas inscribe'd,
"It is sweet to brave danger for Christ
and our country," was on one occasion
near falling into the hands of the enemy.
The standard-bearer was down, pierced
with innumerable wounds; but still, with
hands stiffening in death, clinginrg to the
broken staff, when it was my good fortune to rescue and carry back the banner
in safety. For this I received the thlanks
of the great leader, and as one of his ai(ds
was selected to be the bearer of despatehes to the queen of Navarre.
I spent a few delightful hours at St.
F!orent with  my motber, sister, and
Adlele. How little I imagiiaed they were
the last peaceful ones I wvas ever to know
in that endeared spot,  But I will not
anfticip)ate.
Finding  it impossible  to overcome




HOURS OF SUNSHINE.           65
Conde in open warfare, Catharine contrived, by means of false pretences and
protestations, to draw the hero to Paris,
where he was arrested and thrown into
prison.  After a mock trial he was sentenced to death, but at the last momnent
saved from the scaffold by the death of
Francis II.  After the accession'of the
next brother, Charles IX., Cond6 was
released, and a treaty signed between the
contending parties, which soon shared
the fate of those" which had gone before.
E[uguelnots of Fiallce.




66  THE HUGUENOTS OF. FRANCE.
CHAPTER  VII.
THE HUGUENOTS INVITED TO PARIS,
I HAD been in the army nearly two
years, when, in the bloody battle of Jarnac, our brave leader the Duke cle Cond~, was slain. While the troops were
forming for battle, he received a kick on
the leg from the horse of the Count
Rochefoucaulkl, who was standing near
him ready to mount. So terrible was
the blow, that the bone instantly protruded through his military boot; but
Cond6 would not leave the field for surgical attendance.
"Behold,"l he said to those about him,
"behold, ye true nobility of France, the
molment we have so much desired. Let
us go forward to finish what is so well
begun, and remember the state in wYhich




HUGUENOTS INVITED TO PARIS. 67
Louis of Bourbon enters the field for his
courntry and his Redeemer."
With these words he gave the orders
for a charge, and poured his men like a
torrent into the midst of the enemy.
For a moment all gave way before him;
but soon the main body of the French,
under Henry of Anjou, with the German
mercenaries, surrounded its on all sides.
Every man of the Protestants fought
with desperate valor, and twenty brave
fellows cut their way through every
thing, carrying with them the banner of
Condce. But that heroic prince had fought
his last battle.  With his leg fractured
in two places, wounded in the arm, and
his horse killed under him, he fell to the
ground, and was stabbed to the heart by
one who recognized the Huguenot leader
in that terrible condition.  Cond6 was a'brave soldier and a far-seeing statesman,
though far from being as single-hearted




68  THE HUGUENOTS OF FRIANCE.
in his devotion to the cause of religious
liberty as the aged Admiral Coligny,
who after the death of Condc6 became the
leader of the Huguenot armies.
In the samne battle of Jarnac, my father
received a wound, which, after a few
days of intense suffering, put an end to
his life, leaving me the sole protector of
my mother and Aimee, and the leader of
the Beauvilliers troops, a body of nearly
four hundred men.  I had little leisure
to mourn for him, for dangers surrounded us on every side, and but for a special
interposition  of Providence, our little
army must have been destroyed.  But
the God who turns the counsels of the
wise into foolishness, suffered our foes to
fall into discussions among themselves,
so that we had time to reorganize our
shattered forces, and to push the war
with such vigor that Catharine began to
tremble for the safety of the capital.




HUGUENOTS INVITED TO PARIS. 69
Henry of Navarre, who had reached
the years and stature of manhood, and
whose every look and word proclaimed
him born to command, had joined the
army with Count Louis of Navarre, brother of the Prince of Orange, and the Count
de Montgomery; and with these illustrious personages were many. others of less
note, but whose valor had been proved
in a hundred well-fought -fields.  The
Protestant array was so threatening, and
the success of our enterprises so decided,
that the queen mother despaired of subduing the'heretics by force of arms, and
prevailed upon her son to sign a treaty
of peace at St. Germain in Aug1ust, 1570,
to the great joy of the moderate party
on both sides. There can be -little doubt
that the crafty Florentine had even then
conceived the infamous project, whose
execution, two years later, made all Europe recoil with.horror.  She was will



70  THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
ing therefore to concede nearly all that
the HIuguenots desired, the better to collect them  within the fatal grasp which
was to crush them  at one blow.  A
proposal was formally made to Queen
Jane, who with her son was in Rochelle
during the winter of 1570-'71, that a
strong and lasting bond of union should
be formed between the two parties, by
the marriage of the Prince of Navarre to
Margaret of Valois, second daughter of
Catharine.  The proposal, for many reasons, was extremely distasteful to the
Queen of 5Navarre, who distrusted the
sincerity of Catharine, and felt that she
was most to be feared when most she
seemed to smile.  But both parties were
exhausted with civil war; peace and toleration were blessings inestimable, and
reasons of state policy overpowered private feelings, and in an evil hour she
con sented to the ill-omened union.




HIUGUENOTS INVITED TO PARIS. 71
As soon as spring should open, the
queen was to proceed to Paris, followed
by Aidmiral Coligny and all the principal Huguenot leaders to whom  special
invitations had been sent by the king
and queen mother, and early in the summer Henry was to be in Paris, when the
marriage would take place. During the
winter, the monotony of camp life was
agreeably varied by a double wedding,
which took place under rather peculiar
circumstances. Jacqueline D'Entremont,
a lady of large possessions in Savoy, had
become so mluch interested in the noble
character of Adclmiral Coligny, who was
a widower, that through  a mutual friend
she made him an  offer of her heart and
hand. The proposal, comnig as it did
from one whom he knew to be worthy
and estimable, was gratefully received
by the admiral, who sent a messenger to
express his pleasure and gratitude for




72   THIE HUGUENOTS OF F1RAlNCE.
her favorable opinion.  But the Duke of
Savoy, who was unwilling that'the immense estates of the lady should. pass
from Savoy into the hands of a heretic,
opposed the plan violently, and forbade
the marriage.  The lady, however, was
equally deterinelcd  with himself; and in
such a case the issue is seldom doubtful.
She made her escape secretly, and fled
to Rochelle, where she.wats received by
the admiral with as much respect and
affection as if she had come attendedbly
the whole court of Savoy.  In a short
time they were married; and at the same.
time Louise, the daughter of thl-e admiral,
gave her hand to her father's tried friend
lnd comrade, the Lord of Teligny.
These double nuptials were celebrated
with all the splendor we could command
ina our narrow quarters, and gave nniversal satisfaction to the Huguenot plarty.
R My mother and' sister  were in tle 3l:i;.




HUGUENOTS INVITED TO PARIS. 73
of Queen Jane, and I had the pleasure of
seeing my sweet Aimee an object of admiration to all who had the privilege of
being admitted to her society, not less
for the truly feminine delicacy which
characterized her, than for her rare and
perfect loveliness.  On the departure of
the queen for Paris, these beloved ones
returned to St. Florent, where Adele and
her grandfather awaited them.
As I had command of the guards appointed to attend the queen, I took leave
of my friends at Rochelle, and the same
day started on the journey which was to
have so trag'ic a termination.




74  THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE MARRIAGE OF THE PRINCE.
ON our arrival in Paris, the queen
was receivedl by Catharine with lavish
demonstrations of respect, and lodged
sumptuously in the Louvre.  All was
mirth and gayety about the court; but
the queen was ill at ease, and regarded
the splendid pageantry as only the cover
of deep and dark designs, whose scope
she was unable to fathom.
One evening, a few weeks after our
arrival, as I was about to leave her, after
arranging the guards for the night, she
called me to her, and laying her hand
upon my shoulder, said earnestly,
"Mly son, you. are very dear to me,
for your parents' savke as well as for ryolr




MARIRIAGE OF THE PRINCE.   75
own, and I tremble for you in this abode
of sin and death. I know not why, but
my heart is strangely heavy to-night,
and misgives me sorely.  I fear that we
have been entrapped here, I and my
people, as silly sheep for the slaughter;
and but for the hope of peace, would
even now warn the prince not to venture
himself in Paris.  But God is above all,
and to him I commit myself; only remember, Henri Beauvilliers, that Jane of
Navarre trusts you as she trusted your
noble father, and entreats you to be the
samle fearless, watchful friend to her impetuous son that the Sieur de Beauvilliers has always been to me."
There was a solemnity in her manner
which filled me with a vague alarmn.
"You are sad, to-night, dear and honored lady," I said; "permit me to remain within call, that I may watch over
your safety while you sleep.  Believe




76  THE HUGUENOTS OF EFANCE.
me, my royal mistress, this precauticn
may be necessary."'"Not so, my son," she replied with a
smile; "if danger menaces me, it will
not come in a form so palpable that human care could meet or avert it.  The
ruling spirit in this fearful abode knows
how to Sulmmnion earth and air to aid her
in securincg her revenge.  Something
seems to tell me that my days are nunmbered; but I know in whom I have believed, and do not fear to die. I only
mourn to leave my son and friends in
the trap which has been set for them.
But it is late, and your young eyes require sleep. Good-night, my son. AMay
God and all good angels watch over and
protect you."
AWith this.solemn blessing she dismissed me, andl the next morning, when
I returned to the wing of the palace in.
which  the Queen of Navarre and ilmr




MARRIAGE OF THE PRINCE.   77
suite were lodged, I found her so ill as
to be insensible to every thing about her.
In this state she languished for nine days,
and then expired, without one interval
of consciousness.  I believed then, and
believe still, that she died a victim to
the hatred of Catharine de MSedicis. HI-er
illness was so brief there was no time
to send for the prince, who did not arrive until some time after the burial.
His grief and indignation were excessive,
and his suspicions so strongly aroused,
that for a while the deeply laid schemes
of the queen mother were in danger of
being thwarted by one whom she consiclered a mere boy.  But her pretended
sympathy, her flatteries, and cajoling
words, together with the representations
of Admiral Coligny, whose confidence in
Charles and his mother amounted to infatuatioi, at length overcame his resentment. - He yielded, though with evident




78  TlHE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
bitterness of heart, and the preparations
for the marriage, which was deferred on
account of the death of Queen Jane, went
forward.
Margaret of Valois was eighteen, beautiful, witty, and graceful, but so utterly
destitute of moral principle, that she
scorned to wear even the semblance of
propriety.  She heartily detested her
intended bridegroom, and looked on the
court of Navarre as a purgatory, into
which she was to be banished, and from
which she prayed speedily to be clelivered. On the other hand, the young
king of Navarre, as he had become on
the death of his mother, regarded the
princess with too much indcliffeence to
feel even hatred, though there were times
when his flashing eye, as le saw the
gross indelicacyr of her manners, told
what his tongue would never utter.
AMy duties as captain of the king's




MIARRIAGE OF THE PRINCE.   79
guard took me often to the apartments
of the queen mother, and the princess,
whose appetite for admiration was exces-,:ive, condescended to play off all the
artillery of her smiles and graces on an
individual so humble as myself.  But il
I had really been, what she one day petulantly declared me, blind and deaf, I
could not have been more insensible to
her charms. The images of Adele and
Aimee stood at the door of my heart, to
guard it against the entrance of evil; and
never, until they were forgotten, could a
character like that of Margaret of France
have seemed any thing but detestable
to me.
For the first time since our boyhood
there was restraint and formality between I-Ienry of Navarre and myself,
for neither of- us dared speak of what
was in our hearts; and the constant
effort to avoid forbidden subjects made




80   THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
our interviews painful rather than pleasant.
Thouglh mirth and feasting and merriment seemed to occupy the attention of
every one about the court, from the queen
mother down to her youngest page, I felt
certain that we were standing on a; volcano, whose uncapping might hurl us all
to destruction; and from  several slight
indications, I could not doubt that the
catastrophe was at hancd.
Meanwhile Admiral Coligny, always
calm  and collected, seemed wholly unconscious of danger, and reftsing to enter
into the amusements of the court, spent
his time in dictating to his secretary letters to the various Protestant princes
and leaders, or in conversin'g with the
young ki-ng, who visiterl him daily, and
regarded him  with equal respect and
affection.
On the 17th of August, 1572, the wed



MARRIAGE OF THE PRINCE.   81
ding, deferred so long, at length took
place. A platform had been erected before the great gate of the church of lNTotre
Dame; and there, in the presence of a
crowd of French and Navarrois nobility,
Margagaret gave her hand to Henry of
Navarre. I was stationed near the platform during this inauspicious ceremony,
and saw the glances of defiance and hate
which deformed the beautiful face of the
bride. When she was asked if she willingly took Henry of Navarre for her
husband, she would not answer a word.
IHer brother Charles, who gave her
away, whispered fiercely,
"Bow your head in assent;" but the
proud head remained haughtily erect,
an d the face spoke scorn and determination.
"By the bones of my father, but you
shall obey, proud minx," said the angry
king in a low tone as he placed his hand
fugruenrts of France.  6




82  TIHE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
on the back of her head, bending it forcibly down in token of assent. The Cardinal Bourbon, who performed the ceremony, understood the state of things; and
affecting to be satisfied with this forced
consent, the ceremony proceeded. At
its close, M~largaret retired into the body
of the church with her family, to participate in the service of the mass, but Henry
and the Protestant nobles of his train
remained outside until the service was
ended. At first the young bride did not
hesitate to say to every one who approached her, that she hated the husband
they had forced upon her; but his goodhumored courtesy and forbearance evidently won upon her, and induced her
to treat him with- politeness, though of
wifely duty and affection she made no
pretence. Few females of her age could
have resisted the attractions of Henry of
Navarre, with all his graces of mind and




MARRIAGE OF THE PRINCE.   83
person, and the reputation as a daunt.less warrior and. wise statesman which
he had already acquired. But whatever
heart the princess had to bestow, was
already given to the younge Count de
Guiche; and she was alienated still more
from her husband by her bigoted attachment to the church of Rome.
"I can see nothing in your religion,"
she said to me not long after her marriage, "'but gloom and austerity. You
can buy lno indulgences, you can obtain
no absolution; of what use are your
priests only to show how hopeless your
case is, without any possibility on their
part of helping you? For me," she added, shrugging her shoulders, "I must
have a religion that will give me peace
of mind, if I am willing to pay for it."
In vain I attempted to make her understand that Protestants sought for pardon and peace alone from the Saviour of




84  THE HUGUENOTS OF FEANCE.
mankind, the only being who has power
to dispense them.
"I see," she said, "you are not only
a heretic, but a mystic as well, uttering
the senseless babble of the schoolmen,
which sounds strangely enough on the
lips of a young nobleman, and a soldier
to boot. Our French gentlemen have
quite another method of entertainingr
young ladies, let nme assure you."
"I am sorry my sentiments are not
acceptable to your highness," I replied,
"since it is out of my power to change
them."
"Ah, barbarian," she exclaimed, playfully tapping me with her fan, "were it
not that you came from the half-savage
country of Navarre, I should despair of
you entirely.  But I trust we shall
yet be able to civilize you in la belle
France."
A bitter retort rose to my lips, but it




MARRIAGE OF THE PRINCE.   85
was repressed out of respect to the wife
of my sovereign, and soon after I left
the room. The next time I saw her, she
was in her husband's court of Navarre,
arid it seemed to me that a lifetime of
bitter memories and an ocean of blood
rolled between us.




8G  THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
CHAPTER IX.
rHE MASSACRE OF ST. BARTHOLOMEW.
THE newly married wife of Admiral
Coligny did not accompany him to Paris,
but remained on an estate near Angers,
on the Loire, where she was beloved alike
by Catholics and Protestants, for her
active benevolence and the Christian virtues of her character. The admiral made
frequent visits to his family and home,
and on these occasions received repeated
warning from various sources not to trust
himself longer in the power of his enemies.
When leaving home for the last time,
his fond wife urged him, by every argument she could employ, to relinquish the
journey to Paris; but he believed duty
called him back, and was completely de



I ASSACIRE OF ST. BARTIIOLOMEW. 87
ceived by the flattering attentions of tlhe
French monarch, though their very excess ought to have warned him of danger.
At one time, after his last return to Paris,
the king of France said to him, as he
embraced him fondly,
"I have got you now, my good lord,
and do not imagine I shall let you go
again so easily."
"Have I not acted my part well,
mother?" the same treacherous monarch
inquired of Catharine after the departure
of his victim.
"Yes, my son," was her reply, "you
have done very well; but you must continue to play it for some time longer,
until all is ready for the blow."
Lignerolle, a friend of the admiral,
wvho was about to leave for the country,
replied, wh.en asked by Coligny to remain with hlim
"No, my friend, they caress you too




88  THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
much; it cannot all be real, and I had
rather save myself with fools than perish
with sages."
Had not the doomed Huguenots been
fatally blinded, they could not hlave continued insensible to the premonitions of
danger which surrounded them.  The
air was thick with portents of the coming storm.  Low mutterings of distant
thunder should have warned them that
even now it was on the way.  For myself, I had been certain, since the death
of my queen, that evil-was determined
against the hated heretics, but loyalty to my king forbade the thought of
flight.
My two dear friends, the Counts Montgomery and Rochefoncauld, had intended
to leave Paris immediately after the marriage of Henry; but on various pretences
they were detained by the king and his
mother, who had formed their plan so as




MASSACRE OF ST. BARTHOLOMEW. 89
to include, if possible, all the leading
Huguenots throughout the kingdom. The
Duke of Montmorenci, wiser than his
brethren, retired to Chantilly; and no
entreaties could persuade him to t'ust
himself near the court. Admiral Coligny was thoroughly weary of the levity
and profligacy which reigned on every
side, and which suited neither his years
nor his deep religious convictions.  He
waited. only till the close of the marriaige
festivities to ask leave to quit the capital, and at last obtained what he thought
was a final audience.  On his way from
the Louvre to his lodgings, he was filed
upon by an assassin hired by the Duke
of Guise, and wounded in the left arm
and the right hand, rendering the amputation of a finger necessary.
The young king of Navarre was deeply touched by the situation of his friend
and almost father, and hastened to his




90  THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
bedside, accompanied by mnost of the
Huguenot nobles of his suite.  The demneanor of the noble old man was just
what one would have expected from his
character —firm, composed, and full of
trust in God.  In company with the
Prince de Conde, son of the hero who
fell at Jarnac, Henry went directly to
the Louvre from the bedside of Coligny,
and'in the boldest and most indignant
ternms accused the king, in the presence
of his mother, of being privy to the attempt on the life of the admiral, and
declaring that neither himself nor his
friends were safe in Paris, demanded
immediate permission- to depart.
Charles in reply expressed the most
intense sorrow and detestation of the
deed, declaring his resolution to inflict
the severest punishment on its authors
wherever they might be found.  The
queen mother acted her part perfectly,




MASSACRE OF ST. BARTHOLOMIEW. 91
affirming with her usual duplicity, that
if such a man as Coligny was thus assailed, neither herself, nor the king, nor
the Duke of Anjou were safe.  She
assured HPenry that the city should be
searched, and no one permitted to leave
it who could in any way be implicated
in the crime.  Charles went himself to
wait upon the wounded hero, with every
appearance of respect and affection; but
he was never suffered to see him unattended by his mother, who took care
that no private conversation should ever
pass between them. She perhaps feared
that the calm demeanor and noble forbearance of the old man under an injury
so terrible, might shake the resolution of
Charles, who felt as much veneration for
Coliguny as it was possible for his frivolous nature to entertain.
The extreme irritation of the French
king, the instant search for the murder



92  THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
ers, and the visit of the court to Coligny,
with many minor indications of kind feeling towards the Huguenot party, served
to quiet the apprehensions of Henry and
CondeO, who gave up the intention of
immnediately quitting Paris. Never was
smiling treachery carried to a greater
extent, never were victims more conmpletely hoodwinked and befooled.  In
vain I told Henry my suspicions, in vain
I urged him to draw off his friends in a
body from the capital, carrying Coligny
with us; the king replied gayly,
"Why, my good friend, you are in a
very fever of suspicion and distrust.  I
do not believe implicitly all that is said
to me here; but my new mother-in-law
is not an ogress, nor my brother Charles
a second Nero.  Depend upon it, the
devil is not as black as he is painted;
besides, the admiral himself would never
consent to steal away; he has entire con



MASSACRE OF ST. BARTHOLOMEW. 93
fidence in the friendship of the king and
queen mother."
Under pretence of apprehending another attempt on the life of Coligny,
Charles set a guard over his house, and
gathered all the Protestant nobility into
the same quarter, saying they could in
that way better defend themselves from
any hostile movement on the part of the
Duke of Guise. But the guard over Coligny's house was commanded by one of
his bitter enemies, a quantity of arms
were collected in the palace, and a large
number of troops stationed in the neighborhood, while measures were taken to
prevent any defensive weapons being
conveyed into the Protestant quarter.
Thus the net was being drawn every
moment more closely about us, while
most were utterly unconscious of danger, though a few Huguenot gentlemen
withdrew from the perilous position in




94  THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
which they had been placed, and retired
either to the country or to a distant
quarter of the city.
On Saturday, the 23d of August,
HIenry took his younng bride to visit the
admiral; and though Margaret soon returned to the Louvre, the king remained with his friend till evening, when he
too went back to the palace. How little he imagined that during his absence the question had been discussed
in council whether his life should be
spared or taken in the approaching nmassacre.
"HIe is but a young bridegroom,'" said
Catharine with a bitter smile; "it were
a pity to make Margaret so soon a widow; and when his fangs are drawn by
the death of his friends, his bite will be
harmless."
It was finally decided to spare the
Prince of Conde and the King of Na



MIASSACRE OF ST. BARTHOLOMEW. 95
varre, but steps were taken to carry into
imminediate effect their sangouinary designs against all the other Huguenots in
the capital: Badges were distributed by
w\hiCh the executioners might be known,
and the signal agreed upon was the tolling of the great bell of the palace of justice, at midnight of St. Bartholomew's
day, August 29th.
That terrible night stands out be'fore
my memory as distinctly as though its
events occurred but yesterday. The air
of the palace seemed tainted with the:infection of the meditated crime.  An
ominous silence brooded over that quarter of the city surrounding the Louvre,
in which the Huguenots were assembled
as sheep for the slaughter, like that
which precedes the bursting of the hurricane or an eruption of mount Vesuvius.
All faces literally gathered blackness,
for they seemed to grow dark with the




96  TIHE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
vague terror and anxiety that pervaded
every breast.
An attempt had been made by Catharine and Charles during the evening to
avert suspicion by an excess of merriment; but even the craft and duplicity
of the queen mother were unequal to this
crisis. She would start and hesitate in
the midst of a sentence, change color,
and seem to listen anxiously; then she
would recollect herself, and endeavor by
a forced gayety to do away the impression made by her momentary forgetfulness. Charles, who was greatly attached
to the Count Rochefoucauld, made a last
attempt to save him by inviting him earnestly to remain and sleep at the Louvre.
The invitation was declined, and the
count left the palace to return no more.




A NARROW ESCAPE.          97
CIIAPTE R  X.
A NTARROW ESCAPE.
WHEN my friends had left the palace,
I was so terribly oppressed, that, after
posting the guards about the chamber of
the king, in which nearly thirty Fluguenot gentlemen had assembled to talk over
the attack on the admiral and the position ofaffairs, instead of going as usual
to my lodgings, I went to those of the
admiral, intending to pass the niglht at
his bedside.  Short as the distance was,
I saw many indications that something
unusual was going forward. Individuals
strangely attired were hastening' stealthily through the streets, and when- they
met, stopped only to exchange a word
or sign, andcl then glided away into the
darkness, like ghosts revisiting the earth
on somie unhallowed errand.
Huguenots of France.  7




98  THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
I had reached the dwelling of Coligny,
and was ascending the steps leading to
his room, when suddenly the deep tones
of the bell of St. Germain L'Aiuxerrois
fell on my ears, and instantly the whole
vicinity seemed transformed into a Pandemonium.  The discharge of large and
small arms, the shouts of savage fuiry,
and screams of mortal terror, all wvere
mingled in one unearthly sound, the like
of which never saluted mortal ears. The
Duke of Guise hastened to the house of
the admiral, and was instantly admitted.
by the captain of the guard, who had
every thing in readiness for the assassins. Six of the Swiss guards, stationed
by Henry for the defence of his friend,
were cut down while attempting to defend the passage against the rufans, who
made their way to the chamber of Coligny over their dead bodies. The old
man was at prayer, perfectly aware of




A NARROW ESCAPE.           99
the fate that awaited him, and resigned
to it.  Rapid as the movements of the
murderers were, I reachecl the chamber
before them.  I had arined myself, in
addition to the sword and dagger, the
only weapons the Huguenots were allowed to wear, with a sabre and pistols;
and stationing myself near the door, succeeded in driving back a few of the assassins, but they pressed on in such nuinbers that I was speedily overpowered,
and they rushed forward to the bedside
of the.hero, when one of them, holding
his sword to the breast of the victimn, inquired,
" Art thou the Admiral Coligny?"
"I am,'  he replied with perfect serenity. "Young man, thou shoucld'st respect
mny grey hairs; nevertheless, thou caust
abridge lmy life but little."
At this answer the ruffian plunged his
daogger repeatedly into the heart of the




100 THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
admiral, while the others smote and stabbed him alternately. The Duke of Guise,
who was stationed in the courtyard below, called out to inquire if the deed was
done; and on being answered in the aif
firinative, ordered them to throw down
the body through the window.  When
this was done, he spurned the bloody
corpse with his foot, little thinking that
his own senseless remains would be
spurned in the same manner a few years
later by the Duke of Anjou.
While this dreadful scene was going
forward, I gradually recovered from the
effects of the blow which prostrated me,
and staggering to my feet, was about to
enter the chamber, when a m.an enveloped in a large cloak came up to me,
and seizing my arm, drew me through
thle corridor into the courtyard by a
back passage which was quite deserted.
"You need not go further; your vie



A NARROW ESCAPE.         101
tory will be easy," I said to him, opening the collar of my coat.
He made no reply, but requesting me
to mount a powerful horse which stood
near, followed my example, and led the
way through a labyrinth of lanes and
alleys into an open street at some distance from the Louvre.
"Whither are you taking me?" I inquired at length.  "I have no desire to
escape; I only wish to die with my kincg
and friends."
"Henry is in no danger," the unknown
replied; " his life will be spared, but
yours is not worth a moment's purchase
if you go back to the Louvre."
"And why should I be spared, when
all my brethren in arms are taken?  If
yTou are indeed desirous to do me a favor,
give me my weapons, and suffer me to.return and sell my life as dearly as possible."




102  TIlE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
"And have you then none to whom
your life is of importance; no mother or
sister who look to you as their only protector?  7Remember, the scenes of this
nilght are to be acted over again in the
province's; and if report speaks truly,
there are those at St. Florent who will
need your protection.'.
These words recalled me to myself, for
hiitherto the blow I had received, and the
loss of blood froml a flesh wound in my
arm, made me faint and bewildered.
"Whoever you are, whether mortal or
ancel, " I exclaimed, "your words remind
me of what I had nearly forgotten, that
there are still duties which bind me to
life, and I owe you more for recalling
them at this moment than for the existence you have been the means of prolonging.  But may I not -know the naime
of my generous preserver?"
"It is of little consequence," replied




A NARROW ESCAPE.         103
the unknown; "I have only repaid a
debt owing to you since the battle of
Clermiont. Do you not remember saving a French officer from the hands of an
infuriated rabble, who had sworn to put
to death every Catholic prisoner? I am
the man; so you see it is only a life for
a life, and no great matter of gratitude."
By this time we had reached the forest of Fontainebleau, and here my co-01
panion turned to me, saying,
"I can go no further, for I shall be
miSsed in the morning, and may besides
do some good in the city. You can now
make your way wherever duty or inclination call you. But stay; you must be
unprepared for such a journey; here is
a purse which may be of service to you."
Without waiting a reply, he turned
his horse's head, and was out of sight in
a moment, while, like one in a dream, I
pursued my way towards the south.




104 THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
Meantinme, in the streets of the capi.
tal the work of death went steadily on.
The tiger spirit of a Parisian mob was
unchained, the streets were filled with
armed executioners athirst for blood, the
mlarked houses of the Protestants were
forcibly  entered, and the inhabitants
dlragged from  their beds and murdered
without resistance. Neilher age nor sex
was spared, and all the worst passions
of depraved nature, let loose in the horr'ible  anarchy, sated  themselves with
criimaes too fearful to be told. The shouts
aLnd oaths of the murderers were mingled
with the groans and cries of their vie
tilms, while above all the deep bells toll
c(  aloud, " lore blood, more blood!'
The gutters of Paris literally ran with
the sanguinary current, drawn from the
veins of the noblest and most virtuous
men of France.
The scenes at the palace were, if pos



A NARROW ESCAPE.         105
sible, even more revolting than those of
the streets.  Charles IX., who with his
mother and the Duke of Anjou waited in
gloomy expectation in the halls of the
Louvre, showed so many symptoms of
wavering and indecision, that Catharine
prevailed on him to hasten the concerted
signal by ordering the bell of St. Germain to be sounded, iinstead of that of
the Palace of Justice, as agreed upon.
The party of royal assassins then proceeded to a balcony, from whence they
could look out upon the streets, and while
there the sound of a pistol Was heard.
The sound seemed to freeze the blood of
the criminals, and Charles was about to
issue an order to suspend the execution.
But at that moment the tocsin sounded,
flamllbeaux and lanterns flashed out from
the windows of the papists, and the executioners, with the Duke of Guise at
their head, began  the work of death.




106 THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
From  that moment the fierce and sanguinary nature of Charles broke forth in
all' its frightful excess.  He seized an
arquebuss, and taking aim at the flying
TIuguenots, fired repeatedly, exclaiming
as if macd, " Iill them, kill them!' to
the butchers who filled the streets.
But where was Henry of Navarre
while his dearest friends and faithful subjects were thus barbarously murdered?
IHe had passed a sleepless night, and left
his room in company with a few friends
just before the break of day.  In that
wing of the palace the sounds of death
were comparatively unheard; and though
they were aware of some disturbance in
the streets, they had no idea of its nature
and extent.  But almost immediately on
leaving his room he was arrested with
his relative the Prince de Conde, and
brought unarmed before the blood-stained monarch, witnessing, as they passed




A NARROW ESCAPE.         107
on, the murder of some of their faithful
friends and followers.  Charles received
them with a wrathful countenance, blasphemous lips, and with curses which
froze the blood of the listeners commanded them to abjure their Protestant
faith, or take the alternative.  "Death,
)r the mass!" he exclaimed in the most
violent manner; " death, or the mass!"
Henry answered briefly, but firmly,
entreating the monarch to grant them
life and liberty of conscience; but Conde
firmly assured Charles that lie would
sooner die than do violence to his conscience.
"I am not so fond of life," he said,
" as to peril honor and soul both to preserve it; and what I have seen this day
has not served to recommend the Catholic faith to me."
In the first paroxysm of anger, Charles
wished, notwithstand'ling the decision of




108 THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
the council, to add the two young princes
to the number of his victims; but Catharine feared this extremle measure as
impolitic, and prevailed upon him  to
grant them th tree days to consider, assur
ing them that, if at the end of that time
they were not prepared to renounce their
leretical opinions, they should be instantly put to death. They were then sent
away under a strong escort, and Charles
returned to his work of blood. The carnage continued all that day, and was
renewed on Monday, and it was not until
the third day that orders were given to
stop the massacre.
The number of Hutguenots who were
slain on this occasion has been differently estimated, but I doubt not it exceeded
seventy thousand. The inhtlman orders
of the kinrg were but too faitlhfully obeyed
in the provinces.  The Rhone, Seine,
and Loire ran with blood; carnage spread




A NARROW ESCAPE.          109
over all France, and crimes enough were
committed in the space of a few weeks to
blacken the history of a century.  But
in this midnight darkness I ought not to
lose, sight of the few illustrious examples of moral heroism and virtue which
shine like stars amid the surrounding
gloom.
The Catholic bishop of Lisieux contrived to save all the Protestants of that
town. St. Heran, governor of Auvergne,
replied to the king's letter in these noble
words:
"Sire, I have received an order under
your hand and seal, to put all the Protestants of this province to death.  I
respect your majesty too much not to
believe that the letter is a forgery; and
if, which God forbid, the o0der is genuine, I still respect your majesty too much
to obey you."
The Viscount Orthey, lieutenant of




110 THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
the king at Bayonne, answered in the
following words:
"Sire, I have comrmunicated the commands of your majesty to the inhabitants
of the town and the soldiers of the garrison. I have found good citizens and
brave soldiers in Bayonne, but not one
executioner; on which account, both they
and I humbly beg you to employ our
arms and our lives in things we can effect.
HIowever perilous they may be, we will
willingly spend therein the last drop of
our blood."
Both these noble men died soon after
having ventured to disobey the commands of the king, under circumstances
which made it probable that they had
perished by some of the means commonly used by Catharine de Medicis to rid
herself of troublesome friends and dangerous enemnies.




A DAY AT ST. FLORENT.    11I
CH ttPTETRZ XI.
A DAY AT ST. FLORENT.
AFTER my preserver left me, I continued my journey, faint, stunned, and
bleeding, in a half-unconscious state, and
must have kept a southerly direction
almost by instinct, as I have no remembrance of the route.  Some time during
the day, on that terrible 24th, I arrived
at St. Valerie, where an old and valued
friend  of my parents resided,   How I
reached the house I know not, for irnmediately afterwards all consciousness of
pain and suffering was lost in insensibility.  In this state I remained for many
days, parched with fever, and unconscious of all that passed around ne.
Providence had kindly directed nme to
the house of a go'od Samaritan, and I




112 THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
wanted for nothing which the utmost
care and kindness could bestow.
Two weeks passed away before I could
continue my journey, and in that time
what might not have happened! Life
and death seemed hanging on my speed
when I left Paris, and two weeks had
fled, while I was lying helpless as infancy. It was with a sad and foreboding
heart that I bade farewell to my kind
friends, and pursued my solitary journey
to Navarre. The horse provided by my
unknown friend possessed a speed and
strength I had never seen equalled, and
bore me easily and rapidly forward, until
the snow-capped summits of the Cevennes
greeted my sight.
Passing through Montauban, I called
at the house of AMadame Toulan, but it
was shut up, and she had removed no
one knew whither. I could learn nothing of my family, only that there had




A DAY AT ST. FLUItENT.    113
been disturbances in the country, and
terrible excesses had been committed by
the Catholics wherever they were found
in considerable numbers.  This news
was not encouraging; and though my
heart refused to admit the.possibility
that any thing had happened to those
beloved ones, still I rode forward with
feverish  speed, watching  eagerly  for
every indication of civil strife in the
country through which I passed.
Before noon of the second day I canme
in sight of the towers of St. Florent, and
soon after rode up to the door of the
lodge at the entrance of the grounds.
To my surprise and dismay, the cottage
was vacant and deserted, forsaken by
its inmates and stripped of all its simple
furniture.  Shocked at the sight, I hurried forward, only to find the shrubbery
about the chateau cut down, the flowerbeds trampledl under foot, and thle trees
Hlguenots of France.  8




114  THE HUGUENOTS OF FRtANCE.
in the avenue, those forest monarchs
girdled and defaced by the ruthless hanoi
of man.
Not a servant was visible about the
dwelling, the court-yard was empty, the
rooms dismantled and stripped of every
thing movable, and the heavy articles
of furniture so cut and defaced as to be
utterly valueless.  The picture-gallery
had been visited, and the pictures-were
hanging in strips from  their broken
frames. The tapestry was torn from the
walls of the state apartments; in a word,
the destruction was complete.
Old as I am, I cannot recur to the
unspeakable agony of that hour without
tasting again the bitterness of the cup so
suddenly presented to my lips. In my
despair I called. aloud on the names of
my mother and Aimee. I ran from room
to room, demanding some tidings of those
dear ones from the senseless walls, whose




A DAY AT ST. FLORENT.    115
lonely echo imocked my grief. At length
I reentei'ed my mother's room, *a delightful apartment, with a southern exposure looking out on a terrace filled
with flowers, and shaded by fruit-trees
of various kinds.  In the panelled walls
was a secret closet, the favorite hidingplace of my sister and myself in childhood, and from whose recesses we were
accustomed to receive good things when
our behavior had given satisfaction.
Guided, as I believe, by the hand of
God, I went to this closet with no distinct purpose, opening it in the restlessness of sorrow. The first object on which
my eye rested was a note addressed to
mle in the well-known hand of Aimnce.
For an instant I gazed upon it, fearinthat my senses deceived me; the next, I
seized it eagerly, and in the delirium of
joy pressed it to my lips, bedewing it
with tears.  As soon as I regained com



116 THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
mand over my feelings, I opened the
note and read the following words:
"I am writing this note to you, my
beloved Henri, because I hope atnd believe that, if you are spared to return to
our desolated home, you will not fail to
visit this dear hiding-place of our infancy; and thus you will learn that our
God has mercifully preserved us from
the wrath of our enemies.  If you will
go to old Ambrose, the miller at the
castle of Pau, he will give you sure tidings of us, and direct you to our place of
refuge. I dare not tell you in this, lest
by some chance it should fall into the
hands of the wretches who are about to
visit us for the second time since Vou left
St. Florent. But I must close, for we
have only a few moments left for escape.
Adieu.  MIay the blessing of our Father
above ever rest upon you, my own dear
brother:"




A DAY AT ST. FLORENT.    117
After thanking God from the depths
of a grateful heart, I turned away With
renewed strength and.courage from the
desecrated home of my boyhood, for
since they were safe who had made it
home to my heart, I could give up every
thing else without a murmur.
At the further end of the bridge which
connects the castle of Pau with the hamlet lying on the other side of the stream,
is, or rather was, a mill, which supplied
the inhabitants of the castle, and was
called the mill of Jane d'Albret.  Old
Ambrose Pinel was the miller, a stanch
iHuguenot, and one of the best of men.
A large apartment above the mill had
been the scene of various interesting
meetings between the early reformers
and different illustrious individuals of
Europe. There Marguerite of Savoy,
the beloved sister of Francis I., and a
firm patroness of the ceformation, held




THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
a conference with Calvin, Peter Martyn,
and Erasmus, who came from  Geneva
for that purpose.
To this spot I hastened in search of
-Ambrose, and to my great joy found him
at home, though just about to start on a
long journey through the southern part
of France on important business. HIad
I been one day later, all hope of seeing
my mother and sister would have vanished, at least for many weeks. It was
one of those events in my life, and they
have been many, in which the hafid of
an almighty Friend was distinctly visible, directing my path, and ordering
events which were utterly beyond my
control.. My children, I believe in a
special providence, so special that it
takes cognizance of those minute details
which go to make up the sum total of
human happiness or misery.  From my
soul I pity the materialist who sees in




A DAY AT ST. FLOIRENT.    119
all that occurs only the result of blind
ehance; and the equally wretched Christian, who believes that his Father is too
far beyond and above hifh to take note
of his'every-day cares and trials. Surely HI-e who numnbers the hairs of our
head, and watches over the sparrow in
its search for daily food, must be interested in all that concerns the welfare of
his children, and nothing  but unbelief
can deprive us of the infinite blessedness
of such a care.  But I am digressing.
Ambrose Pinel r'eceived me with surprise and joy unbounded, for the details
of the massacre had reached him, and he
believed me among the victims.
"Your friends,"' he said, "mourn for
you as among the dead, and this last
blow has crushed them  to the earth.
How great will be their joy and gratitude to find you given back to them, as
it were, frol. the grave."




120  THE HUGUTENOTS OF FRANCE.
" But where am I to find them, good
Ambrose?  Every moment is an aige
until we meet."
"They are hidden in one of the wildc
est gorges of the Cevennes," he replied,
"in the house of a forester who is true as
steel to his friends and his faith.  I will
myself guide you to the spot, for I have
intrusted the secret to no one.  3Iy
motto is,'If you would make sure of
the safety of a secret, keep it to yourself;' and I have always found it work
well."
We were soon on the way, and as we
journeyed, I related to the good man all
the events of that fearful night in Paris,
so far as they were then known to me.
IHe looked upon my escape as miracuIous, and was inclined to believe my
preserver an angelic messenger sent by
God for that special purpose.
I was too anxious and too wealk to




''~
/___
~.~:>~
_             p _








A DAY AT ST. FLORENT.    121
combat the proposition, and we pressed
forward, unmindful in the excitement of
the hour of the symptoms of fatigue exhibited by the noble animal which had
borne me so far and so well.  All night
we made our way through the wild and
desolate passes of the Cevennes, and in
the morning came in sight of the cabin of
Pierre, in which those dearest to me had
found shelter.
That meeting I shall not attempt to
describe.  There are moments in life to
which words are utterly incapable of
doing justice, and this was one of them.
When the first transports had subsided,
so that we could look in each otlher's
faces, I was shocked to see the change
in that deari countenance which had made
the sunshine of my life from infancy to
the present hour. It was very pale and
thin, and the smile it had formerly worn
was now seldom visible; still the spirit's




122  THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
peace shone througlh it, lighting it up
with a radiance indescribably beautiful.
"I am1 not ill, my clear son," she said
in answer to my look of anxiety; "I
lhave not been even seriously indisposed
through all this fearfill time; but we
suffered mnu6h at the chateau; and then
the horrible news from Paris must have
crushed lme, but for the supporting hand
of God. But you are spared, my own
dear I-Henri..I am  permitted to see
your face once mIore, and all other causes
of sorrow seem as nothing."
"Alh, Henri, brother, can there be in
all the world such'happiness as ours?"
exclaimed Aimee, her blue eyes sparkling through tears, and her sweet face
eloquent with emotion. The months that
had passed since my departure from home
had changed my sister from a lovely and
lovin    child to a devoted, high-souled
woman. She seemed to have no thought




A DAY AT ST. FLORENT.    123
for herself, but in her watchful care of
others, was constantly developing some
new  and beautiful trait of character,
whose existence we had never suspected.
Heretofore I had loved her as a charming pet; now I learned to revere her as
far superior to myself in all the higher
qualities of hunman nature.
"How is this, dearest?" I inquired;
"you are talking of happiness, when I
find you driven from home, stripped of
every thing, and dependent for shelter
on the hospitality of a peasant.  From
whence comes the happiness of which
you speak?"
"From  the mercy of God, who has
spared to nce my mother and brother,"
1le replied with a' fond smile; "and having them, I seem to possess all things.
This hut is a home with those I love,
and St. Florent would be a desert without them.  But, dear Henri, we know




124  THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
nothing of your history; we have only
the blessed conqciousness that you are
with us.  lNow we wish to know how it
has all happened."
I then told the story, and as I ended,
Aimee exclaimed,
" If that unknown preserver was not
an angel in disguise, I would willingly
travel on foot to Paris to find him and
express my gratitude.  I will ask God
every day to permit me some time to
know and thank him."
"I trust your prayers will be answered, dearest," I replied, "for I would
gladly do something to render my debt
of gratitude less oppressive.  But you
forget that I too am ignorant of all that
has hap.pened at St. Florent, and must
know every thing, painful as it is to think
you have suffered while I was away, unable to comfort or assist you."
"The fact of your absence, mv son, so




A DAY AT ST. FLOLtENT.    125
fatr from being an aggravation of our sorrows, was a blessing, for which we were
devoutly thankful, little dreaming  that
you were in still greater danger in. that
terrible city. HIad you been with us,
your young life would have been thrown
away in vain; for what could you have
done against a band of infuriated ruffians,
led on by men who have. grown old in
wars?  Rather let us bless God, who in
his own way hath preserved us from our
peculiar perils, and given us this blessed
meeting, in a time of universal terror and
distress. But the recital of the past is
too painful for me voluntarily to go over
it, though Ainiee will relate to you all
you wish to know. At your happy age,
sorrow does not make an impression so
deep as to render it painful to look back
upon it. On the contrary, the joys of
to-day are rather enhanced by a remembrance of the svifferings of yesterday."




126 THE' HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
CHAPTER XII.
AIM]tE'S STORY.'IF I am to make the recital," said.
Ai mle, "I shall commence by telling
you, dear Henri, how much we all adclmired and loved your charming Adele.
I was every day finding some new beauty
or grace in her, and I could never have
imaginecd that one so young could be so
wise and good."
" HowQ long was she with you at St.'Florent?"
"She stayed nearly a year, then her
grandfather took her away, and continued absent some months, after which
they came back for a short time; but
when we had learned to feel her necessary to our happiness, they left us for.




AliMhTE'S STORY.        127
some distant province, where M. Fauchet
has many firiends.
" For some weeks after their departure we were very quiet, though rumors
of war filled the air on every side.
"But one day last spring our goocl
butler Antoine had been at Pau, and
heard soxmewhere on the road that bands
of Catholics were organizing in Beam and
Navarre, for the purpose of sacking the
castles of the nobility and inflicting every
possible injury on. the Huguenots.  We
were alarmed, of course, but for two clays
heard nothing more bf the maraulers,
and trusted we were to escape. But just
at sunset on the third day, I saw through
the window an armed troop coming  up
the avenue, led by Victor Boutrdon, whom
you may remember as the son of the
Catholic advocate in Montauban.  Ile
left his men stationed round the house,
and entering alone, told us with great




128  T1IE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
civility that it was necessary for him to
search the house for a heretic who was
supposed to be concealed there. In vain
we assured him  Ma. Fauchet had been
gone for months; he was polite but determined, and the search was made. lIe
accompanied the men himself, care-fully
restrained them from insult and plunder,
though the contents of the wine-cellar
and larder were at their disposal.
" For several days he remained at St.
Florent, as he said, for the purpose of
protecting us from injury, and then departed, leaving us' more frightened than
hurt, though very thankful for our deliverailee."
"Victor Bourdon, do you say?  I little thought in Montauban that I should
ever owe him so much. I hope some
time to meet him, that I may prove my
sense of obligation for his kindness and
forbearanlce."




AII  E'S STORY.         129
"It is harcly  right, my son,"' said my
motlher, " to permit you to lie under the
weight of an imagionary obligation.  M.
Bourdon was undoubtedly lenient in his
treatment of Uts, but the reward he proposed to himself, and seemed fully to
expect, was nothing less than the heart
dcl hand of my precious child."
" What!" I exclaimed. "H' ow dared
he, the minion of a tyrant like Charles,
the leader of a band of ruffians and murderers, to raise his eyes to a noble Protestant maiden?  Such effrontery does
indeed cancel all sense of obligation."
" Nay, Henri," said Aimle, laughing
gaily, though her cheeks would have
shamed the blush rose, "you take it too
seriously. M. IBourdon probably thought
himself condescending greatly, in the
flush of his new honors, to stoop to an
obscure country mnaiden, -and a Huguenot to boot.  He would not understand
Tluguenots of France.  9




130  THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
you if you were to speak of presumption
on his part. But we will not talk of him
on this happy day.  If he deceivedl himself when he came to the chateau, he
certainly could not have done so when
he went away.'"
"But you have said nothing of the
final scene of destruction.  Tell me how
you malnaged to escape from the wretches
who have laid our dear home in ruins."
"I can tell you but little' of that terrible day, Henri; it seems to me like a
confused and fearful dream.  Reports
from Paris had reach&e'd us which were
so dreadful as to be wholly incredible,
for it did not seem possible that a being
in the form of woman could be so cruel
and wicked as Queen Catharine. There
were disturbances all around us, and the
servants of the chateau had been for days
almost paralyzed with fear.  Still our
dear mother was calm, for she trusted in




AIMPE'S STORY.         131
God; and besides, we were so lonely
and defenceless, that our very weakness
seemed to guarantee us from harm. But
we learned our mistake only too soon.
Good Ambrose Pinel, the miller at Pau,
came to St. Florent early on the morniug of Sept. 2d, and gathering all the servants together, begged my mother to dismiss them at once, that they might seek
safety elsewhere. The plate, and such
other valuables as could be collected.
were hastily secreted in the garden, our
jewelry and the money in the house disposed of about our persons, and then
with our faithful Claudine, who refused
to leave us, we took a last linoering look
at the pleasant and beloved home to
which we were bound by so many fond
recollections, and were ready' to follow
our friend and guide.
"'I shall take you,' he said,'by a
secret and subterranean passage, known




132  THIE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
only to myself and one other since the
death of the Sieur de Beauvilliers.  So
much time has already been spent, that
Soulier and his band are iundoubtedly
near the chateau, expecting an easy victory. But God knows how to deliver
his children.  The secret passage will
bring us out beyond their outposts, and
we can then make our way to a hidingplace inl the Cevennes, where you will
find safety if not comfort.'
" While he was speaking, the sound of
a trumpet and the tramp of horses was
heard, and looking out, we saw the chateau surrounded by a savage band, with
a fierce-looking warrior at their head,
whose very face seemed to. freeze my
blood. The servants had fled, and the
chateau was firmly secured, so we had
sufficient time, before our enemies could
effect an entrance, to escape from the
house. But before leaving I wrote a hur



AIMPE'S STORY.          133
tied note to you, my brother; and recollecting our childish fondness for the secret closet, placec it there, feeling sure
that when you returned to St. Florent
and found us absent, that would be the
first place to which your steps would be
turned."
"It was so, sweet sister; and I owe
you more for this thoughtful kindness
than words can express.  Until I received it my heart seemed to stand still
with terror; but your precious note was
like life from the dead. But what progress did you make in the subterranean
passage? I remember hearing my father
speak of it in my childhood, but had forgotten its existence until now."
" We made our way slowly and with
difficulty.  In some parts the passage
was high and wide enough to permit us
to walk easily, but in other places the
stones and loose earth had filled up the




134 THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
way, so that we were obliged to creep
on our hands and knees. At length we
came out into an opening or cave, in
which we rested for a while, and then
for the first time we learned fromn Anmbrose the circumstances which had led
him to our rescue. One of the band had
been in the habit of visiting the female
servant at the mill, and knowing her to
be a good Catholic, ventured to intrust
her with the secret of their intended attack on St. Florent and other places in
the vicinity.  Andrea, though a bigoted
papist, felt kindly towards us, and believing that her master could in some
way avert the threatened evil, went to
him with the tidings. Ambrose immediately formed his plans' and hastened to
the chateau, where he arrived, as I have
told you, just in time to save thle whole
household from  death, or a fate worse
than death




AIM]iE'S STORY.         135
"When he had finished his recital, we
moved forward again, and passing up a
steep and narrow stairway cut in the
rock, soon ltoind ourselves in the open
air in the forest of Bondy near the ruined
chapel of La Fere. From thence a path,
beaten by the shepherds and their flocks,
leads to the heart of the Cevennes, and
travellingc all night, we reached  this
hospitable dwelling the following day.
Pierre is a friend of Ambrose, and received us joyfully, and here we found
what was of the first importance to usrest and safety.  Our dear mother was
completely exhausted with fatigue and
care, and for several days after our arrival here could not leave her bed.
"'Then came that terrible time of which
I can never think without a shudder,
when the news of the massacre of Paris
reached us through Pierre, and we believed you, my brother, among the vie



136  THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
tims. I'will not cloud this happy day of
reunion by dwelling on our agony.  It
seems to me that you have been restored
to us by angelic agency; for if your preserver were a mortal like ourselves, he
was surely sent by God to save a life so
precious to many."
I remained at the cottage of Pierre a
week to recruit the strength which my
journey, had exhausted, intending then
to join the Hluguenot forces which were
assembling at various points under leaders who had escaped the general destruction.  But what was to become of lmy
mother and Aim6e?  St. Florent was
now in ruins; the chateau a mere shell,
having been revisited and fired by the
ruffians since I saw it on my way to Pau.
While we were debating this point, a
messenger came to us from the widow of
Admiral Coligny, begging my mother to
come to her at her chateau near Angers




AIMEhE'S STORY.         137
on the Loire, where she had fixed her
permanent residence.
"I am  sad and lonely," she wrote,
" and as the valued relatives of mny martyred husband my heart clings to you,
and nothing could now mzake me so happy
as your society.  We are a community
of Protestants, and the few Catholics in
the neighborhood  are under the spiritual
direction of a truly good and tolerant
bishop, so thtt we have hitherto escaped
tlhe horrors vwhich have convulsed the
other provinces of'unhappy France. Do
not wait to write, but comze to me at once
with the fmessenger wlfO takes this.  He
is shrewd and faithiful, and will guide you
safely to Auvergne."
This letter removed every obstacle
fiom our path.  It provicdel a safe and
hlonorable asylum  for.those dearest to
me, and left me free to devote myself to
the cause which, hallowed by the blood




138 THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE
of so many martyrs, seemed more sacred
and precious than ever before.  Wbe
left the abode of the kind peasant with
many thanks and such recompense as
our means would allow, and made our
way towards Angers.  It was a most
charming country in which Madame Coligny had chosen her abode, and the
chateau seemed the home of order, comnfort, and peace.
In this pleasant retreat, and under the
care of one who would love and cherish
them as they deserved, I left my friends
and retraced my steps towards Nerae,
hoping to obtain some intelligence fromh
the King of Navarre. But nothing had
been heard from him since his fatal marriage, and I employed myself in collecting my scattered troops and enlisting
others, that when the day for action
should come we might not be wholly
unprepared.




OLD FRIENDS.          139
CHAPTER XIII.
OLD FRIENDS UNDER NEW CIRCUMISTANCES.
HENRY OF NAVARRE and, his young
relative the Duke de Conde were detained in Paris as state prisoners for
many months after the massacre of St.
Bartholomew. The thrill of horror which
pervaded all Europe on hearing of that
dreadful crime, warned Charles and his
mother that they maight go too far; and
though the heretic husband of Margaret
was an object of fear and hatred to them
both, they judged it best to dissimulate,
and wait a more'favorable time for the!carrying out of their plans. But though
the young lion had been caught in the
toils, he was far from being a safe or
quiet captive. No arguments or threats




140 THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
could win from him one word of concession in regard to his fraith, and he made
no attempt to conceal the horror with
which he regarded the queen mother and
her son as the murderers of his best and
dearest fiiends.
From time to time we found mneans to
communicate with him through a trusty
messenger; and Nwhen every thing was
in readiness for his return, he contrived,
with the tact and ready wit which distinguished him above most other men, to
make his escape from Paris with Cond(c
and a small retinue of faithful followers.
Every step of the way was full of dangers, but a power higher than that of
man. guided him through them all, and
with a joy too deep for noisy demonstrations we welcomed our prince and leader
to the camp near Neraec, where a few
thousand veteran troops awaited his orders. As he rode through the long linies,




OLD FBTIENDS.         14-1
alnd marked the upturned faces full of a
devotion which knew no bounds, his ownr
countenance glowed  with  enthusiasm,
and turning to Conde, who was at his
side, he exclaimed,
" To-day I rejoice that I am a Bourbon, privileged by blood and birth to
command such men as these-."
Then turning towards the troops, who
had been formed into a hollow square,
he addressed  them  in the following
words:
" Mien, brethren, and fathers, I went
away from  you last year a careless,
happy boy: I come back to you now an
earnest, determined man, ready to do
and dare all that can be done or borne
in defence of the sacred cause of civil
and religious liberty. By the precious
blood which flowed like water in thie
streets of Paris, by the memory of that
martvred mother whom we all revered




142 THE HUGUENOTS OF FRAN
and loved, I solemnly vow  never to
sheathe this sword until I and my brethren are free to worship God according
to the dictates of our own conscience.
If your leader is youthful, he is at least
deeply in earnest; and if older generals
may excel him in ability, you shall see
that he knows as well as they how to die
for his country and his faith.  If in the
battle you follow the white plume of
Henry of Navarre, I promise you it shall
always be found in the path of honor and
glory."
This address, delivered with all the
fifre and ardor of his nature, was received
with loud bursts of enthusiastic applause.
As the voice of one man came up the
shout from the army,
"We will live or dlie with our leader
and king, Henry of Navarre. 5We swear
From motives of policy, rather tt.n
From  motives of policy, rather than




OLD FRIENDS.           143
affection, Henry resolved on demanding
his bride at the hands of her mother and
b)rother, who had hitherto refused to give
her lp. After a time, however, the crafty
Fiorentine thouglht it advisable to have a
spy in the camp of the enemy, and Margaret was sent, greatly against her will,
with a uumerous train of high-born beauties, to play the part of queen in her husband's court of Navarre.
Those who remembered the noble and
virtuous Jane D'Albret, whose simple
dignity marked her born to. command,
while her kindness made her the mother
of her subjects, siglhed as they looked on
the painted and gilded puppet who occupied her place.  Destitute of the semblance of principle, Margaret disdained
to throw over her profligacy even the
thin veil of conventional propriety; and
the daily and nightly orgies of the French
portion of the court disgusted the Ilugue



144 THE IHUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
nots to such a degree, that most of thenm
left the court, while Htenry, disguising as
far as possible the indignation excited by
his wife's unblushing vices, made'active
preparations for taking the field.
For more than two years our little
army was constantly on the move in various parts of France, meeting thl enemy
in slkirmishes and engagements with various results, sometimes gaininin  an important advantage, then sustaining a dcis-.astrous defeat, and always preserved
from destruction by means little less than
miraculous.
At the battle of Coutras, where, by the
military skill and dauntless bravery of
Henry, a threatened defeat was turned
into a glorious victory, we first- taught
the French monarch that the Huguenots
were a foe not to be despised; and from
that time the young king of Navarre took
his place among the princes of Europe as




OLD FRIENDS.           145
an object of love and pride to the friends
of the new faith, and of fear and dread
to its enemies.
Towards the close of the battle, as I
was leading on a corps of reserves, I received a sabre wound in my right side
and shoulder, which rendered nme insensible.  After what seemed to me a long
sleep, during which I hadch a multitude of
harassing dreams, I awoke one afternoon
wondering greatly where I was and what
had happened to me.  I attempted to
raise my head, and found to my surprise
that it was no longer undcler the control
of my will, but remained a lifeless weight
upon the pillow.  The right arm was
equally immovable; but after repeated
attempts, I succeeded in drawiWrg apart
the curtains of serge which surrounded
the low pallet on which I lay.
I saw a neat and comfortable room,
belonging, it would seem, to the better
}Hugn'.ts ot Frannce.  10




146 THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
sort of farm-houses which are so common
in Bretagne, simply furnished, and lighted by two small windows with diamondclshaped panes, over which shades of dark
paper had been placed to exclude the
light. On a bench by the fire sat an
old woman busily engaged in preparing
something over the coals, and croning to
herself an ancient provengal ditty. As
I dropped the curtain from inability to
hold it, I heard the door open and some
one enter, who inquired of the nurse in
a low tone,
"Is there any change in your patient?"
That woice thrilled through  every
nerve of my body, and it seemed to me
would hlave had power to recall my soul
from the very gates of death,'for it was
the voice of my friend and tutor Mo.
Fauchet. An involuntary exclamation
brought him  to my bedside with sur



OLD FRIENDS.           147
prise and pleasure speaking througlh
every feature of his well-known countenance.
"All, Henri,"  he exclaimed, "my
dear, dear young friend, God has heard
our prayers, and given you back a second time to us from  the very grave.
Blessed be his holy name."
I attempted to speak, but my tongue
was strangely stiff, and I could only mur" What is it?  Where am I?"
" You are in the house of a good and
true man near Coutras, and have lain
here in a state of unconsciousness for
weeks. You were badly wounded at the
battle of Coutras, and a violent fever was
the consequence. The king, who loves
you, and has mourned over your danger,
sent his own physician to attend you,
and to his skill, I think, under God, you
owe your life."




148'THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
And you?" I inquired, unable to say
1111ore.
"I was on mly way to England," he
replied, "and learning that some of the
sufferers had been brought here, I stopped to inquire into their situation., When'I saw you, my pupil, my own dear son,
think you I could have gone forward,
leaving you perhaps to die?  But I am
disobeying the commands of the leech in
talking to you at all. You must now
take a composing draught, and sleep
again, and to-morrow I will see you, and
answer all your questions as far as I am
able."
Too weak to question or contend, I
obeyed his orders, and soon sank into a
dreamless sleep.  The next morning I
awoke faint and feeble indeed, but free
from fever and with a calm and collected
brain, and full consciousness of all that
was passing around me. I had not lonc




OLD FRITENDS.          149
to wait for M. Fauchet.  When he entered the room, I saw with pain the ravages which time and sorrow had made in
his face and form. His once erect figure
was bent, his face pale and thin, and he
walked slowly, like one oppressed with
years or care.  He greeted me with all
the affection of former years, but to mY
first question,
"Where is Adele?"
He replied with a hesitation I never
Tbefore saw in him,
"My i;T child has been for some time past
with an old and trusted friend in Auvergne; but we are now on our way to
England, where Madame  Toulan  has
gone, and offers us a home for the little
time that may still remain to me in the
flesh."
" Is Adele then in this house?" I eagerly inquired, forgetting all besides in
mynv interest in that fact.




150  THE HUGUENOTS OF FAlTNCE.
"She is here," he answered slowly;
"but why should it concern you, my son'
"W hy does it concern me? How can
you ask ame such a question? It concerns
me because she is my adopted sisternext to my mother and Ahimee, the dearest thing' on earth to me; because we
hmyrve'been separated for years, and my
heart yearns to see her once more. Why
shoucld you seek to keep us asunder?
Have you less confidence in us now, than
when we were comparative children?"
In my eagerness I had forgotten pain
and debility, but ri. Fauchet said with a
smile as he rose to leave the room,
6" Your cheeks are flushed, Henri, and
your whole frame agitated; calm yourself, I entreat you, and to-morrow you
shall see Adele."
That was a long, long day, but the
morrow camne at length, and with it an
increase of stlrength,  which, to those ig>,




OLD FRIENDS.          151
norant of the power of mind over matter,
must have seemed marvellous indeed.
Every time the door opened to admit
the old Breton nurse, my heart beat almost audibly; and when at length M.
Fauchet appeared, followed by his grandchild, my agitation deprived me at first,
of the power of utterance.
It was the Adele of M[ontauban,'The
very same; and yet how changed! Time
had not stolen away one lovely trait; it
had only heightened and perfected them.
There was the same union of simplicity
and dignity, of childlike sweetness with
womanly maturity, of ingenuous frankness and maidenly reserve. I am sure
my soul must have spoken through my
eyes as I gazed upon her, though at first
my tongue was utterly powerless. By
degrees however, as she sat by my side,
and in her own charming way went over
the past and related her own story since




152  TTHE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
we mllet, muy senses came back to me1, aild
we were once mo-e  he the  nri and Adele
of other years.
"'I little thouglht in those days, " she
said pl ayfiully,'  that my brother Henri
would  become the famous  ug-Iuenot soldier and wise leader whichl report speaks
him, thoug'h my heart predicted a brilb
iant career for you.  H-ow  glad  and
proud it has made me in my solitude to
hear of you as the trusted friend of your
kinl  and the brave commander of men
fiightinuo for the noblest of all cunses, veigious liberty."
Could any thling be sweeter or more
-welcome tl-tha1n such1 praise from1 sulch lips?
i listened like  one entranccld bd ut 4,'r
J? auchet said. gravely,
"Do nlot forlget, my child, that our
0ooid  lenri is still in  thle flesh, and
praise, however pleasant to humanT  nat
ture, is still (dangerous."




OLD FRIENDS.            153
" Forgive me, my father,'" she replied
with a blush which heighltened  every
charm,  "but I have not often of late
been tempted to forgetfulness by any
wish to go over the happy past. AlJonsieur Beauvilliers on this sick-bed is to
me only the Henri of M[ontauban, in
whose presence I was always accustomed
to think alould."
"From  my soul I thank you, dear
Adele, for your favorable opinion; but it
will never render rme vain, while I l know
myself to be so far below the ideal we
both formed in our youth, and which is
constantly before me as an incentive to
exertion."
"I am glad yTou do not consider yourself quite perfect," she said -with an arch
smile, "'for in that case I should soon
lose sight of you entirely.  But we have
overstaid the time allowed us by tlhe
nurse, ancd shall be held accountablel if'




154  THIE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
your symptomls  are worse after this
visit."
In vain I assured her that her presence was the best medicine in the world
for me, that I felt myself every moment
growing st'ronger. Ml. Fauchet was firm,
and hurried her away, leaving the room,
as it seemed to me, in total darkness.
I saw her twice again, but those inter
views I shall not attempt to describe.
As I look back upon them from this clistance, they seem to have less of earth in
them than heaven; for though our hearts
ran together like drops of water mingled
into one, no word of love escaped my
lips.  Adele was to me country and religion impersonated; and in the delicious
languor of convalescence it was inexpressibly sweet to lie and watch her graceful
movements, to hear her burning words,
and to feel her devotion stealing into my
h.east, filmling it with the dletelrmination to




OLD FRIENDS.            155
live or die for the sacred cause of liberty.
AM. Fauchet had delayed his departure
on my account; but when I became able
to sit up and walk with the aid of a staff,
he felt it necessary to join Miadame Toulan, who was impatient at his long delay. There was no leave-taking between
Adele and myself; in my weakness I
could not have borne it. WAe parted as
usual with a simple "'good-night," and
the next morning before I awoke she
was far away, leaving' only a sweet and
precious memory to console me for her
loss.'P ei.




156 THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
C    APTER  XI-V.o
A PLEASANT SURtPRISE.
A  EWv days after the departure of AI
Fauchet and Adele, myS nurse entered
the room, and in her Breton dialect attempted to cheer my loneliness, but ler
homely proverbs fell on unheeding  ears
until she exclaimed,'K"fter all, there's nothing so bad but
it might be worse. eNow in the other
part of the house there's a poor youngo
officer worse off than you are, and not a
soul but his servant who ever saw him
before."
"A  sick officer!  And why have I
never heard of this until now?"
"Because you had enotgh to do to
thinkl of yourself, and because the youOng
lady, God bless her swveet face, said you




A PLEASANT SURPRISE.        157
were not to hear of it until you were
much better; and I trow she's one of
those who can leadc people by a silk
thread just where she pleases."
" But who is this wounded officer; and
what is his name?'
" I-e was on our side in the battle, so
they say, and he is a born gentleman,
that is easy enough to see; but as to his
name, I never heard it."
" Is lie getting better, so that he can
see me? If so, I think I could, with
your help, manage to reach his room."
"I have no care of him, but I will ask
his servant, who watches him  day and
night, and b-riiig you word, though you're
not fit yourself to be visiting the sick,
and you a mere shadow.7'
Word was soon brought that the sick
man would see me on the rmorrow, and I
spent several hours of the interveningo
tinme in trying to imagine which of the




15S  THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
officers of our army it could be who was
thus' sharing my sufferings and inactivity. Most of the Huguenot leaders were
known to me, for our common cause and
common perils had bound us closely to
each other. After wearying myself with
this fruitless endeavor, I wisely resolved
to dismiss the subject until the next day,
certain that whoever he might be, every
thing had been clone for him that care
and skill could accomplish.
The next morning, leaning on a staff
and the arm of my nurse, I proceeded
through the large kitchen floored with
brick, to the apartment of the wounded
officer on the opposite side of the house.
HIe was sittingo in a large chair supported
by pillows, and the pale, worn face was.
wholly unknown to me. But as I approached, the first words he spoke in
answer to my greeting  startled me to
such a degree that I had hardly strength




A PLEASANT SURPItISE.    159
to seat myself in the chair by his side.
It was the very same voice which had
spoken to me on the night of the twentyfourth in Paris; I should have known it
among ten thousand. The stranger saw
my agitation, and said with a smile,
" Am I then an object so friightful as
to alarm  a brave man like the Sieur
Beauvilliers?"
" Do not speak of it," I replied veheinently; "you know wvell the cause of
my emotion. You know when and where
we met before; but how is it that I find
you here, my friend, nmy preserver?" and
as I held his hand, I am not ashamed to
own that my tears fell freely over it.
"You know me, then?" he said, struggling to conceal the emotion which nearly
overcame him; "I should not have believed. it possible, under the circumstances of that horrible night, that my voice
alone would be so long remembered."




160  THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.''The most minute details of that niglht
are burned into my soul," I replied,
" and can never be effaced; how then
could I fail to recognize my generous
protector, the man to whom I owe more
than life, the power of protecting those
dearest to me?  But why do I find you
here, suffering in the cause of the persecuted Hu(guenots?"
"You find me here because the crim es
of an infamous kilng anld queen mother
have opened my eyes to the abominations of the accursed systenm which has
helped to make them  what they are;
because I could not draw a free breath
in that den of robbers and murderers
called the French court.
"When I left you that night, I "went
back to Paris, not to assist in the work
of death, but if possible to save some of
the unfortunates whose cries pierced my
heart.  MBut when I found the streets




A PLEASAINT SURPRISE.!       G1
flledl with incarnate demons thirstinol
for blood, and urged on by the anointed
assassins at the Louvre, I turned and
fled, feeling as thoulgh the earth must
open and swallow up the actors in that
fearful tragTedy.
"SIy father the Count de Viomenil,
recently dead, possessed a chateau near
xRheims, and to that place I directed my
steps.  An aged aunt inhabited the chlateau, and had long been known as a,
friencl and protector of the Huguenots,
lwhose faith she was suspected of sharing'
thourglh such was the benevolence and
purity of her life, that by all the country people she was regarded as a saint.
To her I openied my heart with all its
doubts and misgivings, and her sympathy and wise counsels were like balm to
my troubled spirit. She placed the word
of Godi in my hands, and thoulgh  at first
I read it in deference to her wishes, I
mlllnenots of rranllC.. 1




162 THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
soon became interested in it as a message from God to my guilty, darkened
soul. I will not dcwell on that time; it
is sufficient to say, I left Rheims deterImined to seek Charles to acquaint him
with the change in my belief, and then
either renounce the military profession
and retire to my estates, or join my
brethren who were fighting under Henry
and Conde."
"But how  dared you," I inquired,
" thus to beard the lion in his den? The
risk was fearful."
"For myself I had no fear,"' he replied
with a calm smile.  "I have never valued life so hiYghly as to hesitate about
risking it when any thing valuable was
at stake.  Besides, strange as it may
seem to you, I loved Charles not as the
monarch, but'the man, and my affection
was returned by him.'We were playfellows in childhood, and whatever might




A PLEASANT SURPRISE.    163
be his treatment of others, to me he was
uniformly kind. It was a painful and
dangerous task to tell him that my services were no longer at his commandthat my allegiance was to be withdrawn
and sworn to another; but it must be
done."
" Did you indeed seek Charles of Valois with such a purpose, and yet live to
tell the story?"
"Listen, and you shall hear. I hastened to Paris and to the Louvre, but
found the king confined to his couch with
a disease which baffled the utmost skill
of the physicians.  The unhappy man
was racked with intense pain, and covered with a bloody sweat which seldom
left him.'Blood, blood; it is all around
me,' was his continual cry; it seemed as
though the righteous retribution of God
had already commenced, and was slowly
consuming its victim. He was evidently




164 THIE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
dying, but my presence seemed to give
him satisfaction, and he begged lme to
stay by him  to the last. I could not
leave him, guilty as he was, for he seemed forsaken of God and man; but I obtained from him a written permission,
when all was over, to retire to my estates in Guienne, assuring him that since
the 24th of August Icould never again
fight under the banner of the Duke of
Guise.
"The day before his death the kincg
lay in an insensible state, and fearing
treachery from  Henry of Anjou if I
awaited his accession, I left Paris secretly, and made my way at once to the
Huguenot camp.  Concealing  myself
under the name of my mother's family,
I have fought as a private, and made my
way up to my present position unklnown
to all save my faithful valet and fiiend
Etienne, who at the battle of Coutras




A PLEASANT SURPRISE.    165
bore me insensible from the field, and
brought me here, where his care and
skill have nursed me back to life again."
"Did you know the name of yrour fellow-sufferer?" I inquired.
"Yes; M3. Fauchet, who visited me
often, once me ntioned you incidentally,
and I made inquiries which satisfied me
who you were.  I have waited impatiently, I assure you, for this hour."
I stayed with him until increasing fatigue warned us both that we were far
from strong, and then went back to my
room, thankful to God who had thus unexpectedly raised me up a friend in my
solitude. After this we met every day,
and each succeeding interview only cemented more closely the bond of friendship which united our hearts.
For myself, I gained strength hourly,
and Etienne declared with a broad smile
that Monsieur Beauvilliers had done his




166 THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
master more good than all the medicines
given him by the leech. As my wound,
though doing well, would not for many
weeks admit of my going into active service, I resolved to visit my mother and
sister at the hospitable abode of Madame
Coligny, and invited M. Viomenil to accompany me. After some lhesitation, he
accepted the invitation gladly, and we
bergan at once to prepare for the journey,
which we intended making on horseback,
and which would occupy nearly three
days.  My servant had been wounded
at Coutras, and was now in Navarre;
but the valet of M. Viomenil was a host
in himself. He was quick-witted, active,
and faithful, and possessed an infinite
variety of resources, so that we wanted
for no comfort which his skill could procure.
It was a lovely afternoon in autumn
when we first caught sight of the beauti



A. PLEASANT SURPRISE.       167
ful Loire, shining like a belt of silver
beneath our feet, while in the distance
the blue mountains of ALuvergne, with
their rocky summits rising like gigantic
barriers, seemed to guard the lovely valley beneath.  The town of Angers, built
in the form of a crescent, occupies the
slope of a hill, and descends down to the
very margin of the river. Its streets are
steep, narrow, and. dark, and we rode
througlh them as rapidly as possible, on
our way to the chateau, which was situated on the left bank of the Loire, at the
distance of a league from Angers.
As we entered the grounds of the chateau, the deep verdure and refreshing
shade were so grateful, that we lingered
in the avenue,  admiring every thing
about us, when suddenly the sound of
voices fell upon our ears; then light footsteps were'heard, and soon, eimerging
from a side path, I saw my sister Aimee,




168 THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
her cheeks glowing, her eyes shining
like stars, and her straw  hat thrown
back, come flying towards me.''It is my brother, my Henri," she
exclaimed as she threw her arms about
my neck, for I had dismounted on seeing
her approach.  "Oh, thank God that
you are able to comlle to us once more.'"
In her joy at seeing me, she had not noticed that any one was with me; but
now, as she saw my companion gazing
upon her, she blushed, drew back, and
w~hispered, " I thought you were alone."
"I am not alone, dear sister," I replied; "but you will not regard my
friend as a stranger, when I tell you he
is M. Viomenil, my preserver on the
night of St. Bartholomew, in Paris."
"Is it possible!" she exclaimed, her
whole face brigoht as a sunbeanli. "Then
heaven has heard my prayers in permitting us to know and thank him.  Oh!,




A PLEASANT SURPRISE.    169
sir," she said, giving him her hand, " if
you could see my heart, you would know
how fervently I thank you for saving a
life so precious to us and to all who know
him."
"I am already rewarded a thousandfold for a simple act of humanity, mademoiselle," lie said, bowing over the hand
she had extended; "but your thanks are
very precious, and I accept them with
joy and pride."
" How delighted mamma will be," said
Aimee.  "I hardly know which of you
will receive the warmest welcome, we
have so longed to know the preserver of
our Henri; but let us hasten to the house,
that mamma and Madame Coligny may
partake the happiness."
In a few moments we reached the
house, and were received by my beloved
mother and her friend with- a welcme
which even now warms my heart as I




170 THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
recall it. To BM. Viomenil the chateau
of Anfgers was a new world.  Ile had
never known.nother or sisters, and his
knowledge of female character had been
chiefly acquired at the French court.
To him therefore the dlignlity and intelligence of Mia:'dame Coligny, the matronly
grace and sweetness of my mother, and
the sparkling loveliness of Aimee, had
all the charm of novelty; while his heart
owned for the first time the power of
female excellence and virtue.  A  few
weeks after our arrival at the chateau he
came to me, saying,
"My good friend, you brought me to
this house well knowing what it contained, and how impossible it would be for
me to associate with your lovely sister
without yieldingr my heart to her attractions.  You cannot therefore be wholly
unprepared for what I have to tell. you.
I love Aimee B3eauvilliers, not with a




A PLEASANT SURPRISE.    171
light or transient passion, but as man
should love the partner of his being for
time and eternity.  Have I your permission, as her guardian and protector,
to tell her this?  And if I am so happy
as to gain her consent and that of your
mother, will you, my friend, trust nme.with the charge of her happiness?"
Nothing could have given me greater
pleasure than this declaration, and I
frankly told him so. I knew him to be
honorable and high-minded naturally;
and no one could associate with him, as
I had for many weeks, without feeling
the influence of his genuine piety. "You
have not only my full consent," I said to
him, "but my best wishes for your success.  Aimee's love will be a-rich treasure; but I am sure you deserve and will
appreciate it as you oughlt."
The suit of MI. Viomenil was successful; and when, with renewed health and




172 THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
vigor, we left Angers to join Henry at
Nerac, we were not only brothers in
arms and in heart, but joined by a dearer, sweeter tie, the love of our precious
Aimee.  My mother could not consent
to part with her child immediately; but
in one year A. Yiomenil was to claim
his bride, and until that time both my.
mother and sister would remain at Angers under the powerful protection of
Madame Coligny.
p6$1-I  




SMY VISIT TO ENGLAND.    173
CHAPTER XV.
MY VISIT TO ENGLAND, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.
I-IENRY OF NAVARRE and Margaret of
France hlad parted, after dragging on a
miserable existence together for two or
three years, during which time the conduct of Margaret became constantly more
shameless and abandoned.
In compliance with the wish of the
king, I attached myself to his suite, and
was constantly with him in court or camp.
Aimee had become the Countess Viomenil, and had gone with my mother to
reside on an estate of the count's in Guienne; so I was quite alone, and was often
employed by Henry on various missions
to the different courts of Europe.  At
length matters of state rendered it neces



174  THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
sary that an ambassador should be sent
to England, to counteract, if possible, the
influence which Henry III. was supposed
to be exerting over Queen Elizabeth. I
was selected for this purpose; and after
a hurried visit to Guienne, where I found
my sister the happiest of the happy, I
elmbarked at Calais and landed at Dover,
from whence I went immediately to London. To mne, all England held but two
persons, my tutor and Adele, and I found
myself scanning every strange face I saw,
in the vague hope that those dear countenances might by some chance bless my
sight; but I could learn nothing of them.
There were many French emigres in London and its environs, but no one knew
aught of MI. Fauchet.
The week after my arrival I had an
audience at Whitehall, and there for the
first time saw England's Elizabeth, the
hope and stay of the Protestant cause




MIY VISIT TO ENGLAND.    175
throughout Europe. The audience chamber was a grand and imposing apartment,
the assembly splendid beyond descriptionl; but amid it all I had eyes only for
the queen, whose look and air, and indeed -her every gesture, proclaimed the
brave and undaunted spirit of her race.
She received me graciously, saying, in
the hearing of all her courtiers,
"So highly do I prize the friendship
of my brother Henry of Navarre, that I
would gladly do him a pleasure even by
the sacrifice of my own interests; and I
rejoice to know from the lips of his friend
and ambassador, that hitherto God hath
preserved him from  his enemies, and
given him assurance of ultimate success.'"
She then presented me to her principal nobility, and placed me'under the
charge of Lord Hunsdon, her chief lord
in waiting and her maternal uncle; with
the direction that nothing  should be




176 THE HUGUENIOTS OF FRIANCE.
wanting to make my stay in England as
agreeable as possible.
There was so much ceremony and etiquette in the court of Elizabeth, that I
found it rather tedious, until the youlng
Lord Essex, with soldierly frankness,
offered me his friendship, declaring he
admired so much the bravery of the
Huguenots that, next to his own sovereign, he would rather serve under Henry.
of Navarre than any other monarch of
Europe. With this gifted but unfortunate nobleman I spent many happy
hours, and to him I owe the happiest
hour of my life, that in which I found
again the companion of my youth and
the friend of riper years, my own dear
Adele.
We had been riding into the country
at some little distance from  London,
when, passing a low house almost buried
in shrubbery, Lord Essex remarked,




MIY VISIT TO ENGLAND.    177
"Two years ago that house, which
now looks so desolate, was full of life
and cheerfulness, and Lady Essex and
her molther loved better to visit there
than at any other house about London;
and now I think of it, Beauvilliers, they
were countrywonien of your own who
lived there, an elderly lady, an old man,
and a beautiful young girl, now all gone."
"What was the narne?" I inquired,
my heart beating almost to suffocation.
"Tihe name of the old lady I have
forgotten, but tlhat of the young girl was
Adele Briancourt.  I have remembered
it because both my wife and myself admired her so much."
"Did you say they were gone?  Do
you know where they went?"
"You know  them  then, since you
manifest an interest so deep in their
movements.  WVell, I can tell you but
little, and that little, I fear, far from
Huguenots of France.  12




178  THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
satisfactory. The old grandfather died
first, then the aunt took a fever and followed him, leaving the young girl alone,
but for a servant, old Madeleine, who
had come with them from France."
Poor Adele, how my heart ached for
her in her loneliness and sorrow, and
how ardently I longed to shelter her in
that heart from all the storis of life; for
I had learned within the last few momLents that Adele Briancourt was dearer
to me thlan anyother being on earth.
"' Can you tell mnc where MHademoiselle
Briancourt is to be found?" I inquired
in a tone of forced calmness, though imy
whole soul was convulsed with eimotion.
"I am sorry to say, I do not, know,'
lhe replied; "'for though Lady Essex entreated her to come to us after the death
of her aunt, she declined with many
thanks, and I heard afterwards accepted
a situation as French governess in the




MY VISIT TO ENGLAND.    179
country; but where, we have never been
able to discover."
"The secret shall not baffle me long,"
was my inward resolution as I parted
with Lord. Essex at Whitehall, and retired at once to my own lodgings.  I
arranged my affairs, and obtained leave
of absence for a fortnight; then taking
my faithful valet with me, -I left London
with the determination of finding Adele
before seeing it again. I had formed no
definite plan of proceeding; it seemed to
me that my heart would guide me to
Adele; and every morning I rose with
renewed strength, and courage, only to
retire at evening weary and almost disheartened. There were many families
who had French governesses, but none
of them resembled the image stamped
on my memory; none of theml was the
grandchild of M. Fauchet.
At length, when the fortnight had




180 TIE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
nearly expired, and I must either neglect
my duty or return to London, a violent
storm came on without warning, drenching me to the skin, exposed as I was on
horseback, with no adequate protection.
At that moment my servant pointed out
a dwelling at hand, in which.we might
hope for shelter and hospitality.
It was a long low building, irregularly
constructed, with a view to comfort rather than beauty, and surrounded with extensive pleasure-grounds, laid out with
equal taste and skill. A carriage-drive
bordered with noble trees led up to the
house, and the park was stocked with
deer, who turned to look at us as we
rode through the avenue, then darted
away through the forest glades with the
swiftness of thought. Why do I dwell
on these details? Becauise every thing
connected with that spot is of interest to
ne; because, as I look back, every mi



MY VISIT TO ENGLAND.    181
nute detail comes up before me with the
vividness of a picture on which I gazed
but yesterday.
We rode round to the courtyard at
the rear of the house, and dismounting,
gave our'horses to a servant who came
out and invited us to enter. I requested
the privilege of going into the kitchen to
dry my wet garments; but as I entered,
what was -my astonishment to hear the
exclamation in my own language,
"It is Monsieur Henri!" and as I
looked hastily up, I saw before me the
well-known features of Madame Toulan's
Montauban servant, Madeleine.
"' Where is your young mistress?"- was
my first inquiry; "where is Ma'amselle
Adele?"
"Not far away, you may be sure,
when you see my good Madeleine," said
a sweet voice at my side; and turning,
Adele Briancourt stood before me, a lit



182 THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
tie thinner and paler than when I saw
her last, but otherwise unchanged. Time
and sorrow seemed to have no power
over her spiritual beauty; in loneliness
and dependence she was the same cheerful, happy being, shedding the sunshine
of her own heart over all around her.
" We are fortunately alone, " she said,
when the first joyous greetings were
over, "as the family are all absent today at a fair in the next town. They
are good and worthy people; but I am
selfish enough to wish to have you all to
myself for one day, before sharing your
visit with others."
"Ah, dear Adele," I replied, "I have
sought you sorrowing for many days,
and when I was ready to despair, God
has given you to me; my heart is too
full of happiness to care for aught else."' I heard of you in England, my friend,
and there were times when my heart




MY VISIT TO ENGLAND.    183
almost broke with longing to see you
once more; but pride forbade the obscure governess to make herself known
to the courted, flattered ambassador."
My answer to this remark I shall not
attempt to give. It is enough to say that
we were very happy; and as my time
was short, I had made such good use of
it, that before the return' of the family at
evening, I had won the consent of Adele
to go back to France with me, never
more to be separated on earth.
The next day I returned to London
with a glad heart, to finish my business
there, and to make preparations for
claiming the lovely and beloved companion who was to share my return to our
native country. To my great surprise,
on my first audience Queen Elizabeth
condescended to interest herself in my
little story, which she had heard from
Essex, and complimented me on what




184 THE HUGUENOTS OF PRANCE.
she was pleased to term the reward of
constancy.  She graciously expressed a
wish to see the lady of my choice; and
accordingly, when I brought Adele to
London as my wife, she was presented to
th e quee n, and thoughl perhaps I ought
not to say it, not one among the beautiful women who surrounded their sovereign outshone nmy carming bride.
On our return to France, our first visit
was to Guienne, that the new daughter
and sister mighlt be welcomed there as
she deserved.  At the urgent request of
my mother and sister, I left her with
them during the campaigns which ended
with the glorious battle of Ivry; after
which I took her to a chateau I had purchased near Angers, where several happy years were spent, until the accession
of Henry IV. to the throne of France;
after which we removed in his train to
Paris.




ACCESSION OF HENRY IV.   185
CHAPTER XVI.
THE ACCESSION AND DEATH OF
HENRY IV.
HENRY III. of France, who ascended
the throne after the death of Charles IX.,
had been at school and college with the
king of KNavarre, and was inclined to look
upon him with more favor than any other
member of his family had ever been.
Catharine de Medicis was dead, gone to
her last account with all her innumerable sins upon her head; and thus HEenry
wVas saved from the domestic influence
ever at hand to lead the unhappy Charles
into public and private crimes. But the
reign of Henry was far from being peaceful or happy.
The Duke of Mayenne, a powerful no.
bleman, formed a league of all the discontented spirits in the realm, and tool




186 THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
possession of the capital, driving out the
king and court. Henry III. then formed
an alliance with Henry of Navarre, and
together they laid siege to Paris. While
in camp there, Henry was assassinated
by an agent of the League, brought for
that purpose from the monastery of
Troyes.  He lived a few days, and then
expired, leaving his crown to the kingof Navarre, if he had strength and skill
sufficient to seize and retain it.
Paris was in a state of open rebellion
against its legitimate sovereign. Many
of the large towns were held by a small
minority of turbulent nobles; the small
towns were either wavering or disaffectedcl, and the rural districts presented
every shade of opinion within a few
leagues. One province was nearly all
Catholic, another all Protestant, and
still another equally divided.  All respect for the law had long since disap



ACCESSION OF HENRY IV.   187
peared, for the vices of the court had
banished all notions-of morality. In fact
the whole fabric of French society was
disorganized, and no common principle
of action was strong enough to bind together the members of any great party.
Immediately after the death of the
king of France, Henry of Navarre entered the room, and declared that by the
laws of the realm and the will of the late
king, he, as his lawful successor, assumed
the crown: A few of those present saluted him  and shouted, " Vive HIenri
Quatre!" but many stood aloof, unwilling to commit themselves at that moment to any course of action.
Just then the Duke of Longueville, at
the head of a large body of nobles, entered, and coming up to the new king,
in a long oration pointed out to him the
dangers of his situation, and besought
him to embrace at once the Catholic re



188 THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
ligion as the only means of securing the
nobility on his side. I was standing by
the king, and saw the strong effort made
by him to control his indignation while
the duke was speaking. He was very
pale, but perfectly calmi as he replied in
burning words which are indelibly impressed on my memory.
"Among the many wonders, gentlemen, with which God has been pleased to
visit us during the last twenty-four hours,
that which is caused by your proceeding is
what I should least have expected. Your
tears, are theylalready dried? The memory of your loss and the entreaties of
your king, not three hours dead, have
they so soon vanished? It is impossible
that all here can have agreed on. all
points of what I have just heard uttered,
to take me by the throat at the first mo.ment of my accession, at'so dangerous a
moment to think to drag me to that which




ACCESSION OF HENRY IV.   189
men have been unable to force so many
humble persons to do, because they knew
how to die. And from whom can you
expect such a change of faith, except
from a man who has none at all? Would
it be more agreeable to you to have a
king who is an atheist? And in.the dclay
of battle, would you follow with confidence the will and guidance of a perjured
apostate? Yes, it is as you say, the King
of Navarre has suffered great disasters
without being shaken by them. Can he
cast off spirit and strength on the steps
of the throne? However, that you may
not call my firmness obstinacy, nor my
prudence cowardice, I reply to you that
I appeal from the judgment of this company to yourselves, when you have had
time to think, and when there are more
peers of France andl officers of the crown
present than I see here on this occasion.
Those who cannot wait for riper deliber



190 THE HUGUENOT'S OF FRANCE.
ation, and who yield to the brief and
vain success of the enemies of the state,
have my full leave to seek their wages
under insolent masters; I shall yet have
all those among the Catholics who love
France and their honor."
This address, poured out with the impetuosity of his fiery nature, carried conviction to all hearts, and as soon as it
was ended, the brave Givry came in,
and throwing himself at the feet of the
king, exclaimed,
"'I have just seen the fower of your
brave nobility, sire, who reserve, till
they have taken vengeatnce, their tears
for their dead king, and wait with imapatience for the- colmmands of their living
monarch. You are the king of the brave,
sire, and none but cowards will abandon
But thouglh the nominal king of France,
the sovereignty existed for years but in




ACCESSION' OF HENiY IV.   191
name.  1Ienry was constantly in canmp,
reducing strong fortresses held by partisans of the League, and endeavoring, as
far as possible, to arrange measures ot
finance, in order to replenish the exhausted treasury.  His bravery, generosity, and the wise statesmanship that
distinguished  all his movements, produce.d their natural effects, and won to
his cause thousands who at first hated
and opposed him.  In a few years after
his accession he entered Paris in triumph, not only as a conqueror, but as
the acknowTledgecl and venerated father
of his subjects.  Ile had contended with
the arms and intrig'ues of the whole Catholic world, and foiled them  all; he had
overcome the hatred of his people, vanquished his enemies, subdued his rebellious subjects, and turned coldness, indifference, and even prejudice into love,
reverence, and admiration




192 THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
I confess, as I looked upon him in the
Louvre, the centre of a brilliant throngo
of the highest nobility of France, the
first gentleman, as he was the first monarch of Europe, and remembered his
childish words in the garden of Pau, I
felt'proud of him as a countryman, a
friend, and a sovereign, under whom one
might gladly live, and for whom one
might willingly die. He was now in the
zenith of his power and fame, and had
just obtained a divorce from Margaret of'Valois, which left him free to contract
any marriage which inclination or state
policy might dictate.  The proudest
houses in Europe would gladly have
opened to receive his addresses. The
choice fell upon Mary de Medicis, a
member of the same Florentine family
whose alliance had already been so dis-:astrous to France. If the new queen ot
Henry IV. had less craft and cunning




DEATH OF HENRY IV.        193
than her kinswoman, she proved to be
equally unscrupulous and destitute of
principle.  During a long life she never
made one faithful friend, and died at
last in a garret in Cologne, the wife and
mother of kings, dependent on the charity of a domestic for the daily bread
which sustained her miserable existence.
The office conferred upon me by the
king, that of superintendent of finance,
rendered it necessary for me to reside in
Paris; and as the Count de Viomenil,
now commandant of the king's guards,
also took a house in the capital., we were
all very happy in our reunion.  My
mother found her youth renewed in the
children of her beloved Aimee and Adele,
while the young and still lovely mothers
were among the brightest ornaments of
the court.
But a terrible reverse awaited us. In
the midst of power, prosperity, and splenHluguenots of France.  13




194 THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
dor, the monarch was cut down by the
blow of an assassin, and died instantly,
leaving his son and heir, a mere child,
under the regency of Mary de Medicis,
a bigoted Catholic, and whose hatred of
the Huguenots equalled that of Catllarine.
The dauphin, afterwards Louis XIII.,
was a proud, sullen, and cruel boy, so
destitute of natural affection even in
early childhood, that Henry IV. replied
to his mother, when she expostulated
with him for correcting the child,
"Madame, you may well pray God to
preserve the life of your husband, for I
foresee that you will suffer from the'violence of your son when you have no
other protector."
The words were prophetic.
The queen regent, anxious only for
her own supremacy, and devoted to the
indulgence of her own vices, committed




DEATH OF HENRY IV.       195
the royal boy to the care of ignorant
and wicked persons, seldom allowing the
friends of his father even to see and converse with him. Her own manner towards him was utterly destitute of affection, cold and repelling to the last degree. Thus he grew up, a singular compound of opposing bad qualities. Proud,
yet timid; weak and vacillating, yet
treacherous and revengeful; moody and
reserved, yet incapable of keeping a secret: such was the son of the bravest,
frankest, and most joyous being who ever
swayed the sceptre of France.
It soon became evident that under the
regency of Mary no favor would be extended to the Huguenots, who were deprived of all places of honor and emolument, and made to feel in various ways
that their day of court favor had gone
by. To the count and myself this was a
matter of very little consequence, for we




196 THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
had only tolerated Paris from affection
for the king, anid retired to our estates,
glad to escape from a life we had never
loved, to the domestic felicity which
awaited us there.
Several happy years passed away in
obscurity while you, my children, were
growing up in health and beauty; and
every year bound my beloved wife more
closely to my heart, as the various excellences of her character were unfolded
in the every-dav intercourse of life. But
humble and inoffensive as we were, our
enemies had not forgotten us. Numerous warnings were sent us from time to
time that evil was determined against
us, so that we were induced to make investments, so.far as we could do so safely
and quietly, in England, preparatory to
our removal to that country.
At length the storml burst; and though
the edict of Nantes, by which universal




DEATH OF HENRY IV.        197
toleration was secured throughoutFrance,
was not formally repealed until many
years later, the Huguenots were everywhere hunted and persecuted like wild
beasts:
Through the mercy of God our families were enabled to make their escape
in time, and reached England in safety.
Among the beautiful shades of Richmond
we found two houses, side by side, where
for twenty years we have enjoyed a degree of peace and prosperity which seldom falls to the lot of mortals.
Elizabeth of England preceded our
own beloved sovereign to the grave, and
James I. was now seated on the throne,
a weak; timid, pedantic prince, whose
very virtues partook so largely of absurdity as to render him an object of
ridicule to his subjects. But he was a
kind friend to the Huguenot emigrants,
and was wise enough to perceive that




198 THE HUGUENOTS OF FRANCE.
the thrift and mechanical skill of France
was being emptied into the lap of Enggland by this process of expatriation.
And now, my children, my pleasant
task is ended, for I need not recall scenes
with which you are even more familiar
than myself. You know how I loved
your excellent mother, how deeply I
mourned her loss; but you cannot know
the joy with which I look forward to a
reunion with her in that blessed land, of
which the Loid God and the Lamb are
the light, and where they go no more out
for ever.