city, he indulges in wrathful gestures and imprecations of vengeance, like the vindictive Marmion, who on quitting the castle of the haughty Douglas,
"Turned and raised his clenched hand,
And shout of loud defiance pours,
And shook his gauntlet at the towers."
We shrink, as we imagine gliding among these scenes, the form of the ambitious Catharine de Medicis, who built for her son's residence this very central pavilion, with its wings. There, there is the window from whence the infamous Charles the Ninth, whom his mother "Jezebel stirred up," fired upon his own people, on the terrible August 29th, 1572; and while the groans of the murdered Protestants resounded in his ears, continued to excite his ruffian soldiers, with the hoarse and horrible cry of "Kill! kill!"
At the summer solstice, two hundred and twenty years after this massacre of St. Bartholomew, the Tuileries again reëchoed with the howling of an infuriated mob, and the shrieks of the dying. Throngs of laborers, and the terrible women from the faubourg St. Antoine, with the brewer Santerre at their head, swelling, as they passed along, to twenty thousand, beat down the gates of the palace, hewed their way through the doors with hatchets, trampled through the royal apartments, brandishing their cutlasses, poles, and knives, rifled the bureaus in the bed-chambers, and
