brated league which for so many years had deluged France in
blood, and kept Henry IV. from the throne; and he was particularly
anxious to humble that proud power. Though Henry IV., after fighting for
many years the battles of Protestantism, had, from motives of policy,
avowed the Romish faith, he could never forget his mother's
instructions, his early predilections and his old friends and
supporters, the Protestants; and his sympathies were always with them.
Henry IV., as sagacious and energetic as he was ambitious, saw that he
could never expect a more favorable moment to strike the house of
Austria than the one then presented. The Emperor Rhodolph was weak, and
universally unpopular, not only with his own subjects, but throughout
Germany. The Protestants were all inimical to him, and he was involved
in desperate antagonism with his energetic brother Matthias. Still he
was a formidable foe, as, in a war involving religious questions, he
could rally around him all the Catholic powers of Europe.

Henry IV., preparatory to pouring his troops into the German empire,
entered into secret negotiations with England, Denmark, Switzerland,
Venice, whom he easily purchased with offers of plunder, and with the
Protestant princes of minor power on the continent. There were not a
few, indifferent upon religious matters, who were ready to engage in any
enterprise which would humble Spain and Austria. Henry collected a large
force on the frontiers of Germany, and, with ample materials of war, was
prepared, at a given signal, to burst into the territory of the empire.

The Catholics watched these movements with alarm, and began also to
organize. Rhodolph, who, from his position as emperor, should have been
their leader, was a wretched hypochondriac, trembling before imaginary
terrors, a prey to the most gloomy superstitions, and still concealed in
the secret chambers of his palace. He was a burden to his party, and was
regarded by them with contempt. Matthias was watching him, as the tiger
watches its prey. To human eyes it would appear that the destiny of the
house of Austria was sealed. Just at that critical point, one of those
unexpected events occurred, which so often rise to thwart the deepest
laid schemes of man.

On the 14th of May, 1610, Henry IV. left the Louvre in his carriage to
visit his prime minister, the illustrious Sully, who was sick. The city
was thronged with the multitudes assembled to witness the triumphant
entry