and ordered that the execution should take place at the Bastille, in the presence of certain functionaries, and not on the Place de Greve and before the mob.  When Biron found himself convicted and sentenced, he burst into a fury, loaded his judges with insults, and roared out that “if he were driven to despair and frenzy, he would strangle half of those present and force the other half to kill him.”  The executioner was obliged to strike him unawares.  Those present withdrew dumbfounded at the crime, the prisoner’s rage, the execution, and the scene.

When the question of conspiracies and conspirators—­with Spain against France and her king had thus been publicly raised and decided, it entailed another:  had the Spanish monks, the Jesuits, to call them by their own name, taken part therein?  Should proceedings accordingly be taken against them?  They were no longer in France; they had been banished on the 29th of December, 1594, by a solemn decree of Parliament, after John Chatel’s attempt.  They were demanding their return.  The pope was demanding it for them.  If at other times,” they said, “the society had shown hostility to France and her king, it was because, though well received everywhere else, especially in the dominions of the King of Spain, they had met in France with nothing but persecutions and insults.  If Henry would be pleased to testify good will towards them, he would soon find them devoted to his person and his throne.”  The question was debated at the king’s council, and especially between Henry IV. and Sully when they were together.

[Illustration:  Henry IV. and his Ministers——­138]

Sully did not like the return of the Jesuits.  “They are away,” said he; “let them remain so.  If they return, it will be all very fine for them to wish, and all very fine for them to act; their presence, their discourse, their influence, involuntary though it be, will be opposed to you, will heat your enemies, will irritate your friends; hatred and mistrust will go on increasing.”  The king was of a different opinion.  “Of necessity,” he said to Sully, “I must now do one of two things:  admit the Jesuits purely and simply, relieve them from the defamation and insults with which they have been blasted, and put to the proof all their fine sentiments and excellent promises, or use against them all severities that can be imagined to keep them from ever coming near me and my dominions.  In which latter case, there is no doubt it would be enough to reduce them to utter despair, and to thoughts of attempting my life; which would render me miserable or listless, living constantly in suspicion of being poisoned or assassinated, for these gentry have communications and correspondence everywhere, and great dexterity in disposing men’s minds as it seems good to them.  It were better for me to be dead, being therein of Caesar’s opinion that the pleasantest death is that which is least foreseen and apprehended.”