rous current which led
to the horrible catastrophe of Saint Bartholomew. To occupy his
attention, a formal engagement was made by the government to send succor
to the Netherlands. The Admiral was to lead the auxiliaries which were to
be despatched across the frontier to overthrow the tyrannical government
of Alva. Long and anxious were the colloquies held between Coligny and
the Royalists. The monarch requested a detailed opinion, in writing, from
the Admiral, on the most advisable plan for invading the Netherlands. The
result was the preparation of the celebrated memoir, under Coligny's
directions, by young De Mornay, Seigneur de Plessis. The document was
certainly not a paper of the highest order. It did not appeal to the
loftier instincts which kings or common mortals might be supposed to
possess. It summoned the monarch to the contest in the Netherlands that
the ancient injuries committed by Spain might be avenged. It invoked the
ghost of Isabella of France, foully murdered, as it was thought, by
Philip. It held out the prospect of re-annexing the fair provinces,
wrested from the King's ancestors by former Spanish sovereigns. It
painted the hazardous position of Philip; with the Moorish revolt gnawing
at the entrails of his kingdom, with the Turkish war consuming its
extremities, with the canker of rebellion corroding the very heart of the
Netherlands. It recalled, with exultation, the melancholy fact that the
only natural and healthy existence of the French was in a state of
war--that France, if not occupied with foreign campaigns, could not be
prevented from plunging its sword into its own vitals.

It indulged in refreshing reminiscences of those halcyon days, not long
gone by, when France, enjoying perfect tranquillity within its own
borders, was calmly and regularly carrying on its long wars beyond the
frontier.

In spite of this savage spirit, which modern documents, if they did not
scorn, would, at least have shrouded, the paper was nevertheless a
sagacious one; but the request for the memoir, and the many interviews on
the subject of the invasion, were only intended to deceive. They were but
the curtain which concealed the preparations for the dark tragedy which
was about to be enacted. Equally deceived, and more sanguine than ever,
Louis Nassau during this period was indefatigable in his attempts to gain
friends for his cause. He had repeated audiences of the King, to whose
court he had come in disguise. He