ce of Spanish infantry, too, had been sent to
Paris, where they had been received with much enthusiasm; a very violent
and determined churchman, Sega, archbishop of Piacenza, and
cardinal-legate, having arrived to check on the part of the holy father
any attempt by the great wavering heretic to get himself readmitted into
the fold of the faithful.

The King of Spain considered it his duty, as well as his unquestionable
right, to interfere in the affairs of France, and to save the cause of
religion, civilization and humanity, in the manner so dear to the
civilization-savers, by reducing that distracted country--utterly unable
to govern itself--under his sceptre. To achieve this noble end no bribery
was too wholesale, no violence too brutal, no intrigue too paltry. It was
his sacred and special mission to save France from herself. If he should
fail, he could at least carve her in pieces, and distribute her among
himself and friends. Frenchmen might assist him in either of these
arrangements, but it was absurd to doubt that on him devolved the work
and the responsibility. Yet among his advisers were some who doubted
whether the purchase of the grandees of France was really the most
judicious course to pursue. There was a general and uneasy feeling that
the grandees were making sport of the Spanish monarch, and that they
would be inclined to remain his stipendiaries for an indefinite period,
without doing their share of the work. A keen Jesuit, who had been much
in France, often whispered to Philip that he was going astray. "Those who
best understand the fit remedy for this unfortunate kingdom, and know the
tastes and temper of the nation," said he, "doubt giving these vast
presents and rewards in order that the nobles of France may affect your
cause and further your schemes. It is the greatest delusion, because they
love nothing but their own interest, and for this reason wish for no king
at all, but prefer that the kingdom should remain topsy-turvy in order
that they may enjoy the Spanish doubloons, as they say themselves almost
publicly, dancing and feasting; that they may take a castle to-day, and
to-morrow a city, and the day, after a province, and so on indefinitely.
What matters it to them that blood flows, and that the miserable people
are destroyed, who alone are good for anything?"

"The immediate cause of the ruin of France," continued the Jesuit, "comes
from two roots which must be torn up; the one is the extrem