not satisfy. Around the city, there had been goodly gardens and most pleasant paradises; but the Romans hewed down every thing for a space of thirteen miles, so that there was not the green bough of a tree, nor a fresh herb any where to be seen. All noisome, all odious, all distasteful things, had yielded abhorred sustenance; but even these were gone, and gaunt wretches, writhing with intolerable agony, ran howling through the streets, or crawled into neglected holes and corners to die. Miriam herself had fed on veries offal, loathsome to sight and smell; and had given of it to her son Elnathan, with such frugal stint, as though its price were a hundred talents of gold. How vain, yet natural, was the wish that now swelled at her heart, as her dimmed eyes rested upon gorgeous articles of furniture, or precious and costly ornaments, that all their value could purchase a little bread, a few dried figs, some parched corn, a mess of pottage, or a morsel of the fatted calf!

The sun went down, and Miriam ascended to the housetop, rending her garments, and scattering dust and ashes upon her bare head; for she was in utter affliction. A low dirge-like strain came from her. She bewailed her own sufferings, the sufferings of her son, Elnathan, who moaned for food as he lay pale and famished at her feet, and the dire calamities that encompassed the Holy City, "the sanctuary of Israel, the perfection of beauty." Suddenly, like one transported by the spirit of God, she stretched forth her lean, shrivelled arms to wards the high places of Isaac; a prophetic majesty of expression kindled in her haggard countenance, and thus she spake:

"Where is now the city of Jerusalem that great and populous city? Where is that most beautiful city of Sion, that holy city, which rejoiced the whole earth? Oh, thou worship of Israel! the mirth of our hearts, whither is thy glory gone? Where is thy magnificence, O Jerusalem? Where are the hills of the daughters of Sion? Where be her kings and princes? Where be the kings that were wont to come and inquire of her welfare in her gates? Where are her sages and elders, her young and most valiant men, who were jocund and merry in her streets upon her sabbaths and festival-days?

Where is her sanctuary, the dwelling of the Almighty God? Where is the habitation of holiness, wherein no man might set his foot but the high priest? O Jerusalem! thou wert once replenished with people; renowned among kings; beloved of God! Thy streets were paved, and the walls of thy palaces shone and glistened, with most precious marble; thy gates were plated with gold and silver. Now, thou art full of slain men, and carcasses, which have perished by the sword and by famine. How art thou fallen from the height of thy pride! How art thou burned even to thy foundations, and left desolate and solitary! What eye is so stern, that can behold this unmoved? What heart so stony, that can abide to see thee? Thy streets are without living creatures! The ancient men, who, in times past, did sit in the midst of thee, in the seats of wisdom, judgment, and justice, now sit by the carcasses of their children, to drive away the unclean birds and ravening beasts; their white heads sprinkled with dust and ashes, instead of their glory. Behold, we live a most sorrowful life, for our enemies, even now, cast lots upon our sons and daughters, to divide them amongst them, to be their servants and handmaids!"

Miriam grew faint. Her tongue cleaved to her mouth with a burning heat; her throat was parched, as with fire; and she sank down by her son, Elnathan, devoured with the pains of hunger, so that she began to gnaw the flesh of her own arm. She prayed for death, but her time to die was not yet

come.

"Mother!" said Elnathan, in a voice that smote her heart worse than a sharp sword, "mother! food! food!"

Now, when Miriam heard her boy weep, and ask for food, which she had not to give him, a frenzy came upon her; for, laying aside all womanhood, she replied,

"What shall I do, my son? The wrath of God has environed the whole city: in every corner thereof famine reigneth; so that I cannot feed thee, Elnathan. And if I should die of hunger, to whom shall I leave thee, being yet a child? But, alas! art thou not as one already dead? Yea-for I have not wherewith to feed thy life. So I have chosen for thee a sepulchre, my son:yea, I will be thy grave, lest, dying

after me, dogs eat thee in the streets :thou-thou shalt be my food!" "Oh, give me food!" cried Elnathan, who comprehended not the frantic purpose of Miriam, but the word only which singly expressed all his wants. "Food!" murmured Miriam, gazing wildly at her skeleton arm, which had the bloodmarks of her own teeth"thou shalt be my food: thou shalt feed me with thy flesh; thou shalt sustain me, before famine devours thee. Come, then, render to thy mother that which she gave unto thee; for thou camest of her, and thou shalt return, even where the breath of life was breathed into thy nostrils. So shall thy death be a rebuke and a shame to those who have brought this doom upon Jerusalem; that they may be compelled to say,Lo! a woman hath killed her son, and hath eaten of him!"

Miriam turned her face away, lest she should see him die, and slew her wellbeloved son! Then she divided his body into certain pieces, whereof some she roasted and seethed; and when she had eaten of them, she laid the rest apart, that they might be a meal for the morrow. But the savour of the flesh coming forth into the streets, the people said one to another, "See, here is a smell of food!" and they forthwith entered the house of Miriam, crying fiercely unto her, why shouldst thou have meat, and wherewith to live, while we die for hunger?"

Miriam answered gently, and without shame,

"Be not displeased, I beseech you, with your handmaid. You shall see I have reserved a portion. Sit ye down, therefore, and I will bring it to you, that you may taste thereof."

Then laid she the table, and set before them part of her child's flesh, saying,

"Eat, I pray you! Nay, wherefore do you start? Come-wrestle with famine, and eat! Look-here is a child's hand-and here its foot.-Oh, Sirs! believe what I shall tell you, and never report that it is any other woman's child but MINE?-My son-my only son!Elnathan- the gift of God!'-Him, whom ye knew for mine-him, I barehim, I slew-him, of whom I have eaten !"

As thus she spake, she burst into tears, and wept bitterly, exclaiming,

"Oh, my son, my son! how sweet wert thou to me in life!-sweeter than honey

and now, in death, thou hast defended me from the wrath of those who were incensed, because I had food; for, lo! they are appeased, and are become my friends, sitting at my table, where I have made them a banquet of thy flesh!"

They who heard this were moved to much grief and horror; which, Miriam perceiving, she dried her tears, and said,

"Why should ye abhor what I have set before ye? Have I not satisfied myself therewith? Taste, then, and be not longer hungry. Wherefore this pity? Ought ye to be more touched than a woman? If ye will not eat of the sacrifice of my son, when I have done so, shall it not be your shame and reproach, that I have a stouter heart, and greater courage than ye? Behold! it is a fair table, a goodly feast; how chanceth it, then, ye refuse to eat?"

They saw that she was mad. But while they sat in amazed silence, there arose a cry from without, that the temple was in flames. Miriam heard the shout of the enemy-the affrighted cry of the multitude. She stood like one whom life had forsaken. Her wasted limbs shook-the glare of her unconscious eyes, withdrawn from the mangled fragments of her child that lay spread before her, was changed to unearthly meanings, as she seemed to fix their shrinking gaze upon some appalling vision that was revealed to them. And, in a slow, deep, solemn tone, she exclaimed, "The voice has gone forth! A voice from the east, a voice from the west, a voice frem the four winds of the heavens; a voice against Jerusalem, a voice against the temple, a voice as against the bridegroom, a voice against the bride, and a voice against the whole people! How are our souls dried away! The Holy City shall they tread under foot, and make desolate and naked; and they shall eat her flesh, and burn her with fire!"

When Miriam had spoken these words, she sank down to the earth, as a shadow glides along the hills, and passed through the gates of death! And so was fulfilled what was declared of the prophet;-"The hands of the pitiful women have soddened their own children!" ALPHEUS.

THE biography of a good minister is among the most useful lessons of history. Whether he lived in our own age, or in more remote times, the result differs only in this; that in the latter case, the influence of his character and actions may be traced through a wider train of consequences, while, in the former, it is less completely developed.

Before entering on the life of the Duke of SULLY, it is necessary that we should previously make the reader acquainted with the posture of affairs in France at the time when this illustrious individual entered on that theatre of public affairs, on which he performed so distinguished a part; and that we should concisely develop the causes by which that posture of affairs-which was one of considerable complexity was brought about.

The eventful history of the period to which we refer, furnishes ample matter of reflection to the philosopher and the statesman; it is valuable, too, in another respect; it reads a lesson of useful import to all those who, undervaluing the progress of knowledge, deem the dissemination of it among the humbler ranks, as tending to dissatisfy them with the occupations to which they are destined, and as fraught with the spirit of disobedience, and with every evil work. It is not unnatural that those persons who possess an ample share of earthly comforts, and who glide with a fair wind along the stream of life, should be fearful of every breeze that may arise to ruffle the waters. Impressed with the truth of the maxim that Knowledge is Power, they feel alarmed, lest the efforts which are making to extend its communication in all directions, should ultimately produce effects unfavourable to the interests of moral government, and to the security of rational freedom. But such apprehensions have no real foundation. True it is, that superior talents will always give their possessor an advantage over others less gifted by nature, or less improved by cultivation; it must give him that sort of power which the strong, whether in mind or body, must always have over the weak; but, on the other hand, ignorance, which is the absence of

VOL. I.

knowledge, is itself weakness of the very worst kind, and is the instrument by which power, when bent on evil, works out all its worst designs. When the aspiring demagogue wishes to practise on public credulity, he does not begin with playing off his deceptions upon educated minds; he lays his foundations as low as he can in the scale of intellect; because, commencing there, he feels surest of success. When the unbeliever wishes to spread the tenets of infidelity, he does not look for success by addressing himself to the more enlightened classes; his influence is over those whose ignorance lays them open to deception. So when the fanatic tries to swell the train of his followers, he has no hope that the reflective and well-informed will flock to his standard: it is the multitude with weak heads and strong passions that troop about him; it is their

zeal without knowledge' that exposes them to be led astray, and to become tools in the worst hands, for the worst designs.

The calamities which afflicted France in the days of Sully, when Catholics and Protestants carried on an exterminating crusade against each other, would never have prevailed, had the mass of the people been better instructed, and had their minds been imbued with true notions of religion and liberty. The illustration which is here afforded to the truth upon which we are insisting, has induced us thus to press it, in the outset, on the reader's attention.

The origin of this exterminating crusade-as is the case with all great changes, whether in church or statewas violence. Much, no doubt, may be produced by that general improvement

at all times the safest-which arises out of the slow ascendency of reason over error; but change of this sort is, in its nature, progressive; while abuses, whether ecclesiastical or civil, that have long kept their ground, at length incorporate themselves with the system of government, and are left to stand or fall with it. LUTHER, of Germany, had already led the way in assaulting the corruptions of the church of Rome, and opposing himself to its doctrines and its

C

discipline. CALVIN, of Geneva,* with a spirit not less formidable, nor less refractory, pursued in the same track of hostility, and with tremendous effect. This renowned Reformer would admit neither outward worship, nor the invocation of saints, nor any visible head of the church, nor bishops, nor feasts, nor benedictions, nor the doctrine of the real presence. He would admit only two sacraments, baptism and the Lord's supper. He set himself against indulgences, purgatory, and the mass. It was not likely that such sweeping innovations would make their way without bloodshed, more especially at a time when the supremacy of the priesthood held princes and people alike in bondage, and when the church enforced-without moderation, and without remorse-whatever tenets contributed either to increase its wealth, or to preserve its power.

It was from Geneva, the cradle of Calvinism, that the reformed doctrine made its way into France; and it was here that its progress was attended with its most disastrous consequences. All classes, from the highest to the lowest, were in a state of ferment. Nine civil wars desolated this unhappy kingdom during the minority of Charles IX. His mother, Queen Catharine of Medicis, fomented these religious differences with a view to strengthen her authority, well knowing, that while the Protestants were in arms against the Catholics, and the Guises against the Bourbons, they must mutually weaken each other, and that in their weakness was her security. But it is the fate of every very striking deviation from rectitude in the affairs of government, that it eventually defeats its object; the miserable policy of Catharine, in the present instance, augmented the evils of the state, without mitigating those of the church. The battles of Dreux, of Saint Denis, of Jarnac, of Moncontour, signalized this reign. The most important cities were taken and retaken by the conflicting parties, and were sacked by each in their turn. Bigotry was in her element. Kings and nobles, priests and people, were alike infected; and religion, whose aim it is to cultivate, and call into action, all the loftier instincts of our nature, had become the source of the most rancorous

persecution.

No man could pray in public with safety, but as his party was uppermost. No shrine was secure against the assassins of the opposite faction. The churches were demolished by the Reformers; the Protestant temples were destroyed by the Catholics, and the bones of their worshippers were left to bleach among the profaned and broken altars of the God of mercy and of peace.

Such was the eventful period which gave birth to the subject of these Memoirs. We shall observe, as we proceed, how it was that his history became so interwoven throughout with that of the sovereign whom he so ably and so faithfully served.

Maximilian de Bethune, Duke of SULLY, was the son of Francis de Bethune, Marquis of Rosny, and was born on the 13th of December, 1560. This family could trace its descent through ten centuries; but the illustrious minister of Henry IV. conferred upon it a celebrity greater than could have been conferred upon it by the most remote line of ancestry. He was educated in the principles of Protestantism, which he never abandoned, although exposed more than once to an influence which might have drawn aside a less inflexible mind. Indeed, he scarcely witnessed anything-when he became capable of observation-but the evils of a thoroughlycorrupted system of government, the leaders of which were set in battle array against each other. In this state all was treachery, confusion, and intrigue; in the church matters were still worse: the sword of religious discord was unsheathed in every direction. The doctrines of the reformed faith were fought for with rage on the one side, and resisted with fury on the other, while, on both sides, the precepts of Christianity were utterly disregarded. As for the great body of the people, they were considered no further than as they served to fight the battles of their rulers. It was with the events of this great crisis that Sully was born to contend.

Charles IX. being at this time in his minority, his mother, Catharine of Medicis, in the usurped capacity of QueenRegent-for no regency had been declared-administered the government in conjunction with her party. Anthony

de Bourbon, King of Navarre, father of prince Henry, was appointed lieutenantgeneral of the kingdom, but being a man of mild character, and moderate talents, he was quite incompetent to cope with the cold-hearted dissimulation of Catharine, or to contend with the three powerful nobles, that passed by the name of the Triumvirate, who had combined together to invade his authority, the Marshal St. André, the Duke of Guise, and the Constable Montmorency. The Protestant forces had more than once been reduced to the last extremity, but their good fortune had enabled them to recover again and again from their defeats, and to reappear upon the field in defence of their conscience, and their creed. The advantages which they had recently gained, had, at length, served to convince the Queen-Mother that they were not readily to be reduced by open warfare; and she began to think it more expedient to withdraw the divine cause -as it was termed-from a decision by arms, and to seek success through a directly opposite course. Overtures of conciliation were thereupon thrown out -it being foreseen that a time of peace would afford means of destroying the Protestant enemy with a certainty that active hostilities could never ensure and she resolved either to make the opportunity, or to wait for it. Considerable advantages, moreover, had been recently gained against the Catholic forces; and it was not deemed prudent, in the then conjuncture of affairs, to hazard any further reverses. Accordingly negotiations were entered into-both armies being, at the time, in the presence of each other-and a peace was ultimately signed at St. Germains, on the 11th of August, 1570.

It became the policy of the Queen

Afterwards Henry IV.

Mother, and of the leaders of the Catholic cabinet, to throw the Huguenotst off their guard by expressing a cordial wish to lay aside all religious differences; but it was not easy to overcome the repugnance which the latter instinctively felt towards any thing like a near association. They could not help regarding this manifestation of a forgiving spirit on the part of their adversaries as of ill omen. They doubted that a party that had pursued them with such unsparing hatred, could be sincere in thus suddenly proclaiming the relations of peace and amity. But still the return of quiet was a blessing not to be hastily rejected; and besides, should occasion call for it, they could again put forth their strength, which would not fail to be recruited by a suspension of arms. To gain their confidence was therefore a work of difficulty, and every engine accordingly was set to work to accomplish it. The first step was to act, outwardly, as if the treaty of St. Germain's was intended as a prelude to a lasting union. The Queen and the Dauphin, on their part, omitted nothing that could lead to a belief that they were actuated by a pure desire to forget all past animosity, and to cultivate, in future, the principles of mutual toleration.

As a pledge of the sincerity of these professions, it was proposed to unite Margaret, the king's sister, with Henry, the young Prince of Navarre, and thus lay the basis, it was pretended, of a lasting unanimity, by an alliance of the two religions. But the real object of Catharine was, to draw aside this prince from the Protestant cause, and thus to throw a still stronger fence round her own power. The marshal de Cossé was accordingly despatched to Henry's mother, the Queen of Navarre, to treat with her