w of the sixteenth century, after
wars and massacres, the lisping of this still small voice. The
terrible preachers of the Sixteen,--the monks who went armed with
muskets in the processions of the League--are suddenly humanised, and
become gentle. The reason is, they must lull to sleep those whom they
have not been able to kill. The task, however, was not very difficult.
Everybody was worn out by the excessive fatigue of religious warfare,
and exhausted by a struggle that afforded no result, and from which no
one came off victorious. Every one knew too well his party and his
friends. In the evening of so long a march there was nobody, however
good a walker he might be, who did not desire to rest: the
indefatigable Henry of Beam, seeking repose like the rest, or wishing
to lull them into tranquillity, afforded them the example, and gave
himself up with a good grace into the hands of Father Cotton and
Gabrielle.

Henry IV. was the grandfather of Louis XIV., and Cotton the great uncle
of Father La Chaise--two royalties, two dynasties; one of kings, the
other of Jesuit confessors. The history of the latter would be very
interesting. These amiable fathers ruled throughout the whole of the
century, by dint of absolving, pardoning, shutting their eyes, and
remaining ignorant. They effected great results by the most trifling
means, such as little capitulations, secret transactions, back-doors,
and hidden staircases.

The Jesuits could plead that, being the constrained restorers of Papal
authority, that is to say, physicians to a dead body, the means were
not left to their choice. Dead beat in the world of ideas, where could
they hope to resume their warfare, save in the field of intrigue,
passion, and human weaknesses?

There, nobody could serve them more actively than Women. Even when
they did not act with the Jesuits and for them, they were not less
useful in an indirect manner, as instruments and means,--as objects of
business and daily compromise between the penitent and the confessor.

The tactics of the confessor did not differ much from those of the
mistress. His address, like hers, was to refuse sometimes, to put off,
to cause to languish, to be severe, but with moderation, then at length
to be overcome by pure goodness of heart. These little manoeuvres,
infallible in their effects upon a gallant and devout king, who was
moreover obliged to receive the sacrament on appointed days, often put
the whole St