t into the hands of Assonleville, and that they
know everything done by Genlis to have been committed with my consent."

[These remarkable letters exchanged between Charles IX. and
Mondoucet have recently been published by M. Emile Gachet (chef du
bureau paleographique aux Archives de Belgique) from a manuscript
discovered by him in the library at Rheims.--Compte Rendu de la Com.
Roy. d'Hist., iv. 340, sqq.]

"Nevertheless, you will tell the Duke of Alva that these are lies
invented to excite suspicion against me. You will also give him
occasional information of the enemy's affairs, in order to make him
believe in your integrity. Even if he does not believe you, my purpose
will be answered, provided you do it dexterously. At the same time you
must keep up a constant communication with the Prince of Orange, taking
great care to prevent discovery of your intelligence with King."

Were not these masterstrokes of diplomacy worthy of a King whom his
mother, from boyhood upwards, had caused to study Macchiavelli's
"Prince," and who had thoroughly taken to heart the maxim, often repeated
in those days, that the "Science of reigning was the science of lying"?

The joy in the Spanish camp before Mons was unbounded. It was as if the
only bulwark between the Netherland rebels and total destruction had been
suddenly withdrawn. With anthems in Saint Gudule, with bonfires, festive
illuminations, roaring artillery, with trumpets also, and with shawms,
was the glorious holiday celebrated in court and camp, in honor of the
vast murder committed by the Most Christian King upon his Christian
subjects; nor was a moment lost in apprising the Huguenot soldiers shut
up with Louis of Nassau in the beleaguered city of the great catastrophe
which was to render all their valor fruitless. "'T was a punishment,"
said a Spanish soldier, who fought most courageously before Mons, and who
elaborately described the siege afterwards, "well worthy of a king whose
title is 'The Most Christian,' and it was still more honorable to inflict
it with his own hands as he did." Nor was the observation a pithy
sarcasm, but a frank expression of opinion, from a man celebrated alike
for the skill with which he handled both his sword and his pen.

The, French envoy in the Netherlands was, of course, immediately informed
by his sovereign of the great event: Charles IX. gave a very pithy
account of the transaction. "To prevent the success of the enterp