tery, if I say, that there is nothing under heaven, which can
furnish me with a parallel; and that, in his mercy, he is of all men
the truest image of his Maker.

Henry III. was a prince of a mixed character; he had, as an old
historian says of another, _magnas virtutes, nec minora vitia;_ but
amongst those virtues, I do not find his forgiving qualities to be
much celebrated. That he was deeply engaged in the bloody massacre of
St Bartholomew, is notoriously known; and if the relation printed in
the memoirs of Villeroy be true, he confesses there that the Admiral
having brought him and the queen-mother into suspicion with his
brother then reigning, for endeavouring to lessen his authority, and
draw it to themselves, he first designed his accuser's death by
Maurevel, who shot him with a carbine, but failed to kill him; after
which, he pushed on the king to that dreadful revenge, which
immediately succeeded. It is true, the provocations were high; there
had been reiterated rebellions, but a peace was now concluded; it was
solemnly sworn to by both parties, and as great an assurance of safety
given to the protestants, as the word of a king and public instruments
could make it. Therefore the punishment was execrable, and it pleased
God, (if we may dare to judge of his secret providence,) to cut off
that king in the very flower of his youth, to blast his successor in
his undertakings, to raise against him the Duke of Guise, the
complotter and executioner of that inhuman action, (who, by the divine
justice, fell afterwards into the same snare which he had laid for
others,) and, finally, to die a violent death himself, murdered by a
priest, an enthusiast of his own religion.[11] From these premises,
let it be concluded, if reasonably it can, that we could draw a
parallel, where the lines were so diametrically opposite. We were
indeed obliged, by the laws of poetry, to cast into shadows the vices
of this prince; for an excellent critic has lately told us, that when
a king is named, a hero is supposed;[12] it is a reverence due to
majesty, to make the virtues as conspicuous, and the vices as obscure,
as we can possibly; and this, we own, we have either performed, or at
least endeavoured. But if we were more favourable to that character
than the exactness of history would allow, we have been far from
diminishing a greater, by drawing it into comparison. You may see,
through the whole conduct of the play, a king naturally severe,