ssins rushed in his
chamber. They were headed by one Besme, who had been bred up as a
domestic in the family of the Guises. This wretch thrust his sword into
the admiral's breast, and also cut him in the face. Besme was a German,
and being afterwards taken by the protestants, the Rochellers would have
bought him, in order to hang and quarter him; but he was killed by one
Bretanville. Henry, the young duke of Guise, who afterwards framed the
catholic league, and was murdered at Blois, standing at the door till
the horrid butchery should be completed, called aloud, 'Besme! is it
done?' Immediately after which, the ruffians threw the body out of the
window, and Coligni expired at Guise's feet.

"Count de Teligny also fell a sacrifice. He had married, about ten
months before, Coligni's daughter. His countenance was so engaging, that
the ruffians, when they advanced in order to kill him, were struck with
compassion; but others, more barbarous, rushing forward, murdered him.

"In the meantime, all the friends of Coligni were assassinated
throughout Paris; men, women, and children, were promiscuously
slaughtered; every street was strewed with expiring bodies. Some
priests, holding up a crucifix in one hand, and a dagger in the other,
ran to the chiefs of the murderers, and strongly exhorted them to spare
neither relations nor friends.

"Tavannes, marshal of France, an ignorant, superstitious soldier, who
joined the fury of religion to the rage of party, rode on horseback
through the streets of Paris, crying to his men, 'Let blood! let blood!
bleeding is as wholesome in August as in May.' In the memoirs of the
life of this enthusiastic, written by his son, we are told, that the
father, being on his death-bed, and making a general confession of his
actions, the priest said to him, with surprise, 'What! no mention of St.
Bartholomew's massacre?' to which Tavannes replied, 'I consider it as a
meritorious action, that will wash away all my sins.' Such horrid
sentiments can a false spirit of religion inspire!

"The king's palace was one of the chief scenes of the butchery: the king
of Navarre had his lodgings in the Louvre, and all his domestics were
protestants. Many of these were killed in bed with their wives; others,
running away naked, were pursued by the soldiers through the several
rooms of the palace, even to the king's antichamber. The young wife of
Henry of Navarre, awaked by the dreadful uproar, being afraid for her
c