founded on the consideration of her sex. When we contemplate her as a woman, we are apt to be struck with the highest admiration of her great qualities and extensive capacity; but we are also apt to require some more softness of disposition, some greater lenity of temper, some of those amiable weaknesses by which her sex is distinguished. But the true method of estimating her merit is to lay aside all those considerations, and consider her merely as a rational being placed in authority, and intrusted with the government of mankind. We may find it difficult to reconcile our fancy to her as a wife or a mistress; but her qualities as a sovereign, though with some considerable exceptions, are the object of undisputed applause and approbation.

"On mortal brows those halos longest last

Which blend for one the rays that verge from all.
Few reign, few triumph; millions love and grieve:
Of grief and love let some high memory have
One mute appeal to life, upon the stone-
That tomb from Time shall votive rites receive

When History doubts what ghost once fill'd a throne.

So, indistinct while back'd by sunlit skies-

But large and clear against the midnight pall,
Thy human outline awes our human eyes.
Place, place, ye meaner royalties below,

For Nature's holiest-Womanhood and Woe !"*

Bulwer Lytton.

[Contemporaneous with Queen Elizabeth were the religious wars in France, during which the dreadful “Massacre of St. Bartholomew's Day" occurred (1572). In 1576, the Catholic party formed the "Holy League," against the Huguenots, or Protestants, who had for their leaders Henry of Navarre and the Prince of Condé. Henry III., the last king of the House of Valois (ral-wah'), was assassinated in 1589, and the throne passed to Henry of Navarre, who assumed the title of Henry IV., promising to give security to the Catholics and their religion, and to abide the decision of the States-General. This was not satisfactory to the Leaguers, who, under the Duke of Mayenne, endeavored to deprive him of the throne; but their army was defeated in the famous battle of Ivry (eev're), described in the following spirited verses by Macaulay.]

From "Last Days of Elizabeth."

The Battle of Ivry.-Macaulay.

["Before the battle, Henry thus addressed his troops: My children, if you lose sight of your colors, rally to my white plume-you will always find it in the path to honor and glory. His conduct was answerable to his promise. Nothing could resist his impetuous valor, and the Leaguers underwent a total and bloody defeat. In the midst of the ront, Henry followed, crying, 'Save the French !' This clemency added a number of the enemies to his own army."-Aikin's “ Biographical Dictionary."]

Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories are!
And glory to our sovereign liege, King Henry of Navarre!
Now let there be the merry sound of music and the dance,

Through thy cornfields green, and sunny vines, O pleasant land of France!
And thou, Rochelle,* our own Rochelle, proud city of the waters,
Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning daughters.
As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy,

For cold, and stiff, and still are they who wrought thy walls' annoy.
Hurrah!, hurrah! a single field hath turned the chance of war;
Hurrah! hurrah! for Ivry and King Henry of Navarre.

Oh! how our hearts were beating, when at the dawn of day,
We saw the army of the League drawn out in long array;
With all its priest-led citizens, and all its rebel peers,
And Appenzel's stout infantry, and Egmont's‡ Flemish spears,
There rode the blood of false Lorraine,§ the curses of our land!
And dark Mayenne was in the midst, a truncheon in his hand;
And, as we looked on them, we thought of Seine's empurpled flood,
And good Coligni's hoary hair all dabbled with his blood;
And we cried unto the living God, who rules the fate of war,
To fight for his own holy name and Henry of Navarre.

The king is come to marshal us, in all his armor drest,
And he has bound a snow-white plume upon his gallant crest;
He looked upon his people, and a tear was in his eye;

He looked upon the traitors, and his glance was stern and high.
Right graciously he smiled on us, as we rolled from wing to wing,
Down all our line, in deafening shout, "God save our lord, the king!"
"And if my standard-bearer fall, as fall full well he may-

For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray—

* Rochelle (ro-skel′) was a noted city in the possession of the Protestants, having been placed in their power, with three others, during the reign of Charles IX.

+ Appenzel' is the name of a Canton of Switzerland noted for its dense population. A portion of the Leaguers' army consisted of troops from this canton.

Count of Egmont, who commanded the auxiliaries sent by Philip II. of Spain, which partly consisted of Flemish soldiers.

The Cardinal of Lorraine, and his brother, the Duke of Guise (gweez).

| Coligni (co-leenʼge), Admiral of France, a noted Protestant leader, was one of the victims of the Massacre of St. Bartholomew's Day.

Press where ye see my white plume shine, amidst the ranks of war,
And be your oriflamme,* to-day, the helmet of Navarre.”

Hurrah! the foes are moving! Hark to the mingled din
Of fife, and steed, and trump, and drum, and roaring culverin!
The fiery duke is pricking fast across Saint Andre's plain,
With all the hireling chivalry of Guelders and Almayne.
Now by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of France,
Charge for the golden lilies now; upon them with the lance!
A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears in rest,

A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow-white crest;
And on they burst, and on they rushed, while, like a guiding-star,
Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre.

Now, God be praised, the day is ours! Mayenne hath turned his rein—
D'Aumalet hath cried for quarter-the Flemish count is slain-
Their ranks are breaking like thin clouds before a Biscay gale;
The field is heaped with bleeding steeds, and flags, and cloven mail;
And then we thought on vengeance, and all along our van
"Remember St. Bartholomew !" was passed from man to man;
But out spake gentle Henry then, "No Frenchman is my foe;
Down, down with every foreigner; but let your brethren go."
Oh! was there ever such a knight, in friendship or in war,
As our sovereign lord, King Henry, the soldier of Navarre!

Ho! maidens of Vienna! Ho! matrons of Lucerne !
Weep, weep, and rend your hair for those who never shall return;
Ho! Philip, send for charity thy Mexican pistoles,

That Antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy poor spearmen's souls!
Ho! gallant nobles of the League, look that your arms be bright!
Ho! burghers of St. Genevieve, keep watch and ward to-night!
For our God hath crushed the tyrant, our God hath raised the slave,
And mocked the counsel of the wise and the valor of the brave.
Then glory to His holy name, from whom all glories are;
And glory to our sovereign lord, King Henry of Navarre!

[The war was not ended by this battle; for, notwithstanding his defeat, the Duke of Mayenne entered Paris in triumph. During its continuance Henry received assistance from the English queen, Elizabeth, Essex being sent with troops to France to aid the cause of the Protestants. At last, the States-General were called, and, to satisfy the prevailing party, Henry abjured his Protestant faith, and thus secured a general recog nition of his right to the throne (1593). He reigned until 1610, and was much beloved by the French people for his zeal in promoting their interests, and the many reformus and improvements which he effected in the government and the internal condition of the kingdom.]

The oriflamme is the royal French standard, pronounced oʻre-flam.
+ Pronounced do-mail'.
+ Philip II. of Spain.

Death and Character of John Hampden.—Macaulay.

[The great civil war which broke out in England in 1642 was brought on by the determined policy of Charles I. to obtain supplies from his people without regard to their wishes or consent. Being thwarted by Parliament, he conducted the government for more than ten years without calling any, resorting to various arbitrary and illegal measures to raise money. Obliged at last to assemble Parliament (1640), he and his ministers were called to a strict account for what had been done in the interim, and Strafford, his chief counsellor, was tried, convicted of treason, and beheaded. Parliament going to an extreme length in their demands, the king and his friends resolved on armed resistance; and the war was begun at Edgehill with no decisive result. Among all who had resisted the tyrannical measures of the king, John Hampden was probably the most illustrious, from the unsullied purity of his character and the boldness with which from the first he had withstood the attacks of royal power upon the constitution of his country. The following account of his death and character is taken from a brilliant essay published first in the "Edinburgh Review," by T. B. Macaulay.]

1. IN the early part of 1643, the shires lying in the neighborhood of London, which were devoted to the cause of the Parliament, were incessantly annoyed by Rupert and his cavalry. Essex had extended his lines so far, that almost every point was vulnerable. The young prince, who, though not a great general, was an active and enterprising partisan, frequently surprised posts, burned villages, swept away cattle, and was again at Oxford, before a force sufficient to encounter him could be assembled.

2. The languid proceedings of Essex were loudly condemned by the troops. All the ardent and daring spirits in the Parliamentary party were eager to have Hampden at their head. Had his life been prolonged, there is every reason to believe that the supreme command would have been intrusted to him. But it was decreed that, at this conjuncture, England should lose the only man who united perfect disinterestedness to eminent talents-the only man who, being capable of gaining the victory for her, was incapable of abusing that victory when gained.

3. In the evening of the 17th of June, Rupert darted out of Oxford with his cavalry on a predatory' expedition. At three in the morning of the following day, he attacked and dispersed a few Parliamentary soldiers who were quartered at Postcombe. He then flew to Chinnor, burned the village, killed or took all the

troops who were posted there, and prepared to hurry back with his booty and his prisoners to Oxford. Hampden had, on the preceding day, strongly represented to Essex the danger to which this part of the line was exposed. As soon as he received intelligence of Rupert's incursions, he sent off a horseman with a message to the general. The Cavaliers, he said, could return only by Chiselhampton Bridge. A force ought to be instantly dispatched in that direction, for the purpose of intercepting them.

4. In the mean time, he resolved to set out with all the cavalry that he could muster, for the purpose of impeding the march of the enemy, till Essex could take measures for cutting off their retreat. A considerable body of horse and dragoons volunteered to follow him. He was not their commander. He did not even belong to their branch of the 'service. But "he was," says Lord Clarendon, "second to none but the general himself in the observance and application of all men." On the field of Chalgrove he came up with Rupert. A fierce skirmish ensued. In the first charge Hampden was struck in the shoulder by two bullets, which broke the bone, and lodged in his body. The troops of the Parliament lost heart and gave way. Rupert, after pursuing them for a short time, hastened to cross the bridge, and made his retreat unmolested to Oxford.

5. Hampden, with his head drooping, and his hands leaning on his horse's neck, moved feebly out of the battle. The mansion which had been inhabited by his father-in-law, and from which in his youth he had carried home his bride, Elizabeth, was in sight. There still remains an affecting tradition, that he looked for a moment toward that beloved house, and made an effort to go thither to die. But the enemy lay in that direction. He turned his horse toward Thame, where he arrived almost fainting with agony. The surgeons dressed his wounds. But there was no hope. The pain which he suffered was most excruciating. But he endured it with admirable firmness and resignation. His first care was for his country. He wrote from his bed several letters to London concerning public affairs, and sent a last pressing message to the headquarters, recommending