ght to recognise a hero and chieftain in a King.
The do-nothings of the Merovingian line had been succeeded by the Pepins;
to the effete Carlovingians had come a Capet; to the impotent Valois
should come a worthier descendant of St. Louis. This was shrewd Gascon
calculation, aided by constitutional fearlessness. When despatch-writing,
invisible Philips, stargazing Rudolphs, and petticoated Henrys, sat upon
the thrones of Europe, it was wholesome to show the world that there was
a King left who could move about in the bustle and business of the age,
and could charge as well as most soldiers at the head of his cavalry;
that there was one more sovereign fit to reign over men, besides the
glorious Virgin who governed England.

Thus courageous, crafty, far-seeing, consistent, untiring, imperturbable,
he was born to command, and had a right to reign. He had need of the
throne, and the throne had still more need of him.

This then was the third Henry, representative of the third side of the
triangle, the reformers of the kingdom.

And before this bubbling cauldron of France, where intrigues, foreign and
domestic, conflicting ambitions, stratagems, and hopes, were whirling in
never-ceasing tumult, was it strange if the plain Netherland envoys
should stand somewhat aghast?

Yet it was necessary that they should ponder well the aspect of affairs;
for all their hopes, the very existence of themselves and of their
religion, depended upon the organization which should come of this chaos.

It must be remembered, however, that those statesmen--even the wisest or
the best-informed of them--could not take so correct a view of France and
its politics as it is possible for us, after the lapse of three
centuries, to do. The interior leagues, subterranean schemes, conflicting
factions, could only be guessed at; nor could the immediate future be
predicted, even by such far-seeing politicians as William of Orange; at a
distance, or Henry of Navarre, upon the spot.

It was obvious to the Netherlanders that France, although torn by
faction, was a great and powerful realm. There had now been, with the
brief exception of the lovers' war in 1580, a religious peace of eight
years' duration. The Huguenots had enjoyed tranquil exercise of their
worship during that period, and they expressed perfect confidence in the
good faith of the King. That the cities were inordinately taxed to supply
the luxury of the court could hardly be unknown to the Ne