I am sensible, it is ill arguing from particulars to generals, and that we ought not to charge upon a nation the crimes of a few desperate villains it is so unfortunate to produce:  Yet at the same time it must be avowed, that the French have for these last centuries, been somewhat too liberal of their daggers, upon the persons of their greatest men; such as the Admiral de Coligny,[7] the Dukes of Guise,[8] father and son, and the two kings I last mentioned.  I have sometimes wondered how a people, whose genius seems wholly turned to singing and dancing, and prating, to vanity and impertinence; who lay so much weight upon modes and gestures; whose essentialities are generally so very superficial; who are usually so serious upon trifles, and so trifling upon what is serious, have been capable of committing such solid villanies; more suitable to the gravity of a Spaniard, or silence and thoughtfulness of an Italian:  unless it be, that in a nation naturally so full of themselves, and of so restless imaginations, when any of them happen to be of a morose and gloomy constitution, that huddle of confused thoughts, for want of evaporating, usually terminates in rage or despair.  D’Avila[9] observes, that Jacques Clement was a sort of buffoon, whom the rest of the friars used to make sport with:  but at last, giving his folly a serious turn, it ended in enthusiasm, and qualified him for that desperate act of murdering his king.

But in the Marquis de Guiscard there seems to have been a complication of ingredients for such an attempt:  He had committed several enormities in France, was extremely prodigal and vicious; of a dark melancholy complexion, and cloudy countenance, such as in vulgar physiognomy is called an ill look.  For the rest, his talents were very mean, having a sort of inferior cunning, but very small abilities; so that a great man of the late m[inist]ry, by whom he was invited over,[10] and with much discretion raised at first step from a profligate popish priest to a lieutenant-general, and colonel of a regiment of horse, was forced at last to drop him for shame.[11]

Had such an accident happened[12] under that m[inis]try, and to so considerable a member of it, they would have immediately charged it upon the whole body of those they are pleased to call “the faction.”  This would have been styled a high-church principle; the clergy would have been accused as promoters and abettors of the fact; com[mittee]s would have been sent to promise the criminal his life provided they might have liberty to direct and dictate his confession:  and a black list would have been printed of all those who had been ever seen in the murderer’s company.  But the present men in power hate and despise all such detestable arts, which they might now turn upon their adversaries with much more plausibility, than ever these did their honourable negotiations with Gregg.[13]