ARMAND JEAN DUPLESSIS, Cardinal, Duc de, was the younger son of a Poitiers gentleman, whose impoverished exchequer did not allow him to support, in anything like style, the honours of his genealogical tree. Born on the 5th of September 1585, he received a tolerable education preparatory to his entering the army. One of his brothers, Alphonse, had already been comfortably provided for by the church, and a bishop's mitre at Luçon was the first prize which the Poitiers gentilhomme secured towards the worldly welfare of his family. Whilst the prelate thus sailed easily down the stream of life, the soldier would have to fight his way to distinction sword in hand, starting with the usual chances of a cadet de famille. History does not inform us whether young Armand's inclination was in accordance with the parental will; but certainly his subsequent conduct at the siege of La Rochelle proves that he was more at home on the field of battle than in the arena of theological discussion. The Bishop of Luçon had not yet been consecrated when, under the impression of religious scruples, he was induced to renounce a position so many would have earnestly coveted, and to withdraw himself entirely from the world. He entered a Carthusian monastery. This circumstance was likely to prove a serious matter to the straitened fortunes of the Duplessis family; but our soldier in posse thought that he was called upon to retain at any cost the position his brother had parted with; so, throwing back his sword into the scabbard, he adopted the crozier as the prop of his rising destinies. None of the transactions connected with this episcopal promotion will bear close examination. Richelieu was only twenty years old when it took place, and a great many difficulties were raised by the Pope, not without strong reasons. Henri IV. had to interfere; the French ambassador at Rome exhausted all his diplomatic resources; as a final climax, Richelieu himself started for the Eternal City, fully determined to conquer. His Holiness yielded at last, and the ceremony of consecration took place on April 17, 1608. The young Bishop of Luçon immediately after repaired to his diocese. Arriving in a part of France where the majority of the people belonged to the Protestant religion, Richelieu resolved to discharge his duties with vigour and prudence. He would settle differences, soften irritations, and display uniformly the spirit of forbearance, when brought into contact with his Huguenot diocesans. "Gentlemen," he said, in a sort of oratorical programme to that effect, "as I am come to live with you, and to make my habitual abode in this place, there is nothing that can be more agreeable to me than to see your faces, and to know from your own declarations that you feel pleasure at my presence. I thank you for the good wishes you express. I shall do my best to deserve them by every kindness in my power; for the strongest anxiety I have is, that I may be useful to all and each of you. There are some in this company who are separated from us, as I am aware, on matters of faith; may we, notwithstanding, be all united together in the bond of charity! I shall do all I can towards that object; it will be as useful to them as to us, besides pleasing the king, whom every one of us is bound to obey. Time will prove more fully than anything I can say the affection I bear to you; I shall therefore leave deeds to show that your welfare will be the end of my endeavours."

If Richelieu manifested kindly dispositions towards the Huguenot separatists, he affected likewise a strong sympathy for the common people, who, overwhelmed by taxes, and bearing the dreadful consequences of a protracted succession of civil wars, could hardly eke out a miserable livelihood. He solicited and obtained for them some slight relief. Here, however, we discover a strong contrast in the principles which the despotic statesman adopted subsequently as the foundation of all true government. "All politicians," he wrote, in his celebrated Testament Politique, "are agreed that, if the people's circumstances were too easy, it would be impossible to keep them within the bounds of duty. We must compare them to mules, which, being accustomed to burdens, are more injured by repose than by work."

What with the Huguenots, and what with the lame condition to which "the mules" were reduced, the see of Luçon does not appear to have been a very lucrative benefice. Richelieu, the powerful genius who ruled so long over the destinies of France, and whose very name struck terror into the heart of Austria,—Richelieu began by driving bargains for some cheap church furniture, and doing duty in second-best surplices. A number of letters written by him at this period have been published; they are full of little chit-chat on domestic grievances,—letters which show that the bishop then lived in a landable state of apostolic simplicity. His favourite correspondent was a Madame de Bourges, who resided in Paris, and who seems to have been in the habit of procuring for the young prelate the necessaries he required from time to time. "I shall find no lack of occupation here," he writes to her in April 1609, "I assure you; everything is in such a ruinous condition that it will require hard labour to set matters right again. I am very badly off for lodgings, as there is not one chimney but

smokes. You may imagine that I am not anxious for a severe winter: patience, however, is the best remedy. I can give you my word that my bishopric is the ugliest, the muddiest, the most disagreeable in the kingdom; but I leave you to guess what is the condition of the bishop. I have neither garden nor avenue, nor any place at all where I may take a walk; I am, in fact, a prisoner in my own house. I break off this discourse to tell you that we could not find amongst my clothes a tunic and a dalmatics of white taffeta, which were to be forwarded with the white damask ornaments you ordered for me; this makes me think that they must have been forgotten."

Many of the letters to Madame de Bourges are exactly in the same style; trifling topics are discussed, sometimes in a genuine vein of comic humour, always with a kind of philosophic insouciance. Then our bishop, after having sedulously done what he could amidst the Huguenots and the "mules" of the diocese, feels that he ought to refresh himself by a journey to Paris, and a visit to those who, at the Louvre, dispense honours, riches, and power. There is the Bishop of Evreux, Du Perron; his controversial works have procured him almost the reputation of an oracle; his sermons are drawing large crowds to Notre Dame; he has become a lionized prelate, and a man of unbounded influence. "Why," quoth Richelieu, "should not I walk in his footsteps?" But in order to do so he must have an hôtel in Paris. An hôtel! Yes, for the sake of decorum—of appearances. For a bishop, furnished lodgings would hardly be the thing. Madame de Bourges, that excellent housekeeper, is once more consulted. "You will oblige me much by your good advice: I am rather hesitating, especially about a house. On one hand, I am afraid that much furniture will be required; on the other, as my temper, similar to yours, is a little inclined towards vanity, I should like both to be more comfortable, and also to make some figure. Now this might be more conveniently managed if I had a house of my own. A poor nobleman is a pitiable thing; yet there is no helping that."

And accordingly, off to Paris he went, determined to make his way at court, and to get into some sort of notice. His first attempt proved a signal failure; he endeavoured to create a sensation by his sermons, and preached several times before the queen, but apparently to no purpose. Nay, if we believe Priolo, the Bishop of Luçon was infelix coniunctio. Altogether, the result of these Paris journeys does not seem to have been very encouraging. Richelieu returned to his diocese, and soon found out that, without taking the trouble of a long and expensive pilgrimage from Poitou to the metropolis, he could have secured close at hand, the advice, the encouragement, and the assistance which he required.

There lived at that time in the west of France a man whose religious zeal and whose talent as a preacher were much talked of. François Leclerc du Tremblay, a Capuchin friar, better known afterwards as Father Joseph, had, when twenty-two years old, renounced the most brilliant prospects to embrace the monastic life. Neither the earnest entreaties of his mother nor the allurements of the world could avail. He donned the cowl; but by his transcendent powers soon raised himself to the highest posts in his community. He uncompromisingly denounced from the pulpit the lax ideas which the civil wars had introduced into the church, and which especially infected the convents. Moved by his sermons, the nuns of Pontevault had even requested him to draw up a plan for the reformation of the monasteries belonging to their order. This Father Joseph did successfully; but in order to consolidate the work he had been enabled to begin, he wished to secure the appointment, as

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2 See for all this the first volume of Richelieu's correspondence, published by M. Avenel, and the clever articles of M. Sainte-Beuve in the Courrier du Louvre, vol. vii. Richelieu, abbess, of Antoinette d'Orléans, sister of the Duke de Longueville; and some difficulties, it would seem, stood in the way of this nomination. The Bishop of Lagnon was then residing in the Priory des Roches, near Fontevraud; Father Joseph called upon him for his advice. These two clever men soon understood each other's character; and although Du Tremblay was eight years older than Richelieu, he constantly affected to receive his instructions with the greatest respect. When they both went to court for the purpose of reporting about the settlement of the Fontevraud business, Father Joseph spoke of Richelieu to Marie de Medici as of a superior prelate who could render her the greatest services.

We have seen the bishop endeavouring to steer his course steadily amongst difficulties of a temporal nature. He was not by any means so fortunate in disposing of cases connected with the anxieties of the soul and the appeals of conscience. He was ignorant of spiritual things; and the few letters reprinted that relate to such subjects are as commonplace and tame as can be imagined. Fancy her reverence sitting down to his desk with a Complete Religious Letter-Writer before him, and instead of giving to the distressed the outpourings of his heart, sending to them pages from a manual published cum privilegio. If we would study the veritable Richelieu, and see him himself again, we must turn to the despatches in which he lectures a vicar-general or a parish priest. Let the following (penned in 1610) suffice by way of specimen:—"Sir, I have received the letter you wrote to me on the subject of the differences which have arisen between M. De la Coussaye and yourself. I cannot but blame you for them, because my desire is, that those who have the management of affairs in my diocese should live in peace together. I inform M. De la Coussaye of this, and I warn you likewise, so that you may make it your object to preserve union. You are both my vicars-general, and as such your only aim ought to be to please me in all things, which will certainly be the case, provided you act for the glory of God. Your letter makes it clear that you were out of temper when you took up your pen; for my part, I love my friends so well that I wish to be acquainted only with their good tempers, and in my opinion they ought not to show any other.... Thank God, I know how to behave myself, and I know still better how they should behave who are placed under me.... I wish you to tell me of the irregularities which you may notice in my diocese; but you must do so more gently."

The circumstances in which Richelieu was placed at that time compelled him to display much deference to some people respecting whom he entertained in after-life a very different opinion. For instance, while he is only the insignificant Bishop of Lagnon, wearing questionable surplices, and dwelling in a house with smoky chimneys, he can write to Sully in the most submissive manner. A letter, dated September 21, 1612, begins thus:—"Sir, if I had as many ways of being of service to you as I have occasion to be unfortunate, I would prove my affection and my zeal with as much pleasure as I feel pain now, in taking up the pen to beg for undeserved marks of your benevolence. I would never have ventured to do so had I not been aware that those who may be called truly great, more by their qualities than by the offices they fill, are very glad of an opportunity of assisting their inferiors; for they prove thus, that if their power commends them, their kindness places them higher still," &c. &c. Compare the obsequious tone which characterises the above letter with the opinions which the prelate gives of Sully in the Histoire de la Mère et du Fils. We should, however, remember that, as late as 1626, contemporary historians and annalists took very little notice of Richelieu. When they speak of him, it is quite par hasard, and often in the most disparaging manner. Baptiste Le Grain's allusion to the bishop is not only laconic, but bor-

dering upon contempt. Savaron, relating the opening of the States-General in 1614, merely says that Richelieu, in delivering up the cahiers of the clergy, spoke for a long hour. Then, when he describes the negotiations which took place between the king and the queen-mother,—negotiations in which Richelieu played so conspicuous a part,—he omits his name altogether, alluding only to Cardinal de la Roche-Feucauld and to Father de Bérulle. Paul Phélypeaux de Pontchartrain, who had been employed since 1610 as secretary of state in the most important transactions, and who must have been well acquainted with Richelieu, has the following sentence, under the date of December 1616:—"About that time several rumours were spread abroad.... All the old ministers were to withdraw and to make way for two or three men whose sole merit and experience consisted in their abetting the designs of the marshal (Concini), and of his wife." Appreciations such as these are scarcely credible, except upon the supposition, that the writers who penned them were blinded either by party spirit or by jealousy.

The murder of Henri II. produced in Europe the effect of a thunderbolt. At the time when that event was permitted to happen, France had reached a state of prosperity which seemed doubly glorious after the horrors of the civil wars. Party animosity was gradually subsiding, and Catholics and Protestants were living together in the bonds of mutual forbearance. But, on the other hand, it must be acknowledged that the Edict of Nantes was grounded upon a wrong basis; the Protestants were considered, not as a church, but as a political community; whilst the edict was odious to the crown, it could hardly satisfy the Huguenots; and it was quite evident that, as soon as the stroke of death removed the monarch who had brought about the compact, the structure he had reared would speedily fall to the ground. The persons most anxious to play a part in the game of politics observed each other closely; and Richelieu's absence from his diocese became a matter of common occurrence. We have already alluded to the speech which he pronounced before the States-General. It is a tedious composition, written in the affected style of the age, and rather remarkable for the view the orator takes of administration and public business. He succeeded so thoroughly in flattering the ambition of Marie de Medici that she named him almoner to her household,—a post which, hitherto, he did not long retain, for a few days only after his appointment he sold it, permissione superiorum, to the Bishop of Langres. This was, we must acknowledge, a smart way of raising the wind, and of proving that our pauvre noblesse had their wits about them. With the results of the bargain Richelieu could keep up a better establishment than the one which Madame de Bourges enabled him to maintain; and he patiently awaited the course of events. In the meanwhile, he was very assiduous in his attentions to the powers that were,—the under-secretary of state Barbin, Concini, and Leonora Galigat. The storm of factions was agitating the court; amidst a crowd of petty intriguers and of men whose talents were not equal to their ambition, Concini felt the advantage of securing the cool judgment and the steady determination of Richelieu.

And truly France had been reduced to a pitiable condition. From the height of prosperity it had sunk into the most precarious state. Indolent, headstrong, and wavering, the queen-mother, Marie de Medici, retained for her advisers the men least capable of offering her a firm support in the season of adversity. Villeroi, Jeannin, Sillery, possessed ability no doubt, but only as instruments in the master's hands. They could not take the initiative; guide them, they would act judiciously; leave them to themselves, and they were lost. The nobles, who still entertained the hope of regaining their former power, had at first reckoned upon the support of the States-General. De- ceived in this expectation, they had withdrawn altogether from the court, and, strengthened by crowds of adventurers still anxious for plunder and thirsting for blood, they raised the standard of civil war. Such was the general desolation that the king had an army to attend his progress when he went to Bordeaux, on the occasion of his own marriage with Anne of Austria, and to settle the union between his sister Elizabeth and the son of Philip III. In the interim, Father Joseph had undertaken to negotiate with the confederate princes who were then assembled at Saint Maixent; in the name of the queen-mother, Marshal Brissac and the Duke de Villeroi began a series of conferences which the ambition of the rebels protracted as much as possible. At length, in the first days of May 1616, a peace was signed at Loudun, the terms of which implied so much weakness on the part of the government that, although the princes had obtained every pledge they required, it was evident they did not intend to be satisfied at so cheap a rate. "The princes," says Richelieu in his memoirs, "received from the king great gifts and rewards instead of the punishment they deserved; consequently they did not abandon to his Majesty the faith they had sold him so dear; or, if they did, it was not for long." In fact, the pretensions of the nobles rose as high as the throne: they talked of nothing less than shutting up the queen in a convent, and giving the crown to the Prince de Condé. The danger became imminent; France had an aftersight of the League, or an anticipation of the Fronde. Things demanded an act of vigour and determination. Whilst Villeroi, Jeannin, and Sillery were hesitating, and forming a thousand resolutions which they did not know how to carry out, Richelieu, Barbin, and a few others prevailed upon the queen to sanction the arrest of the princes. She did so; but the plan was so clumsily managed that Condé alone was secured. It is not at all unlikely that the escape of the rest, which a little would have prevented, hastened the advent of Richelieu to the ministry. He had himself vainly attempted to negotiate with the Duke de Nevers; hostilities were already beginning in several places, and a civil war was opening of which no one could foresee the result. On November 30, 1616, Armand Jean du Plessis de Richelieu received his commission as secretary of state, with the right of precedence over all his colleagues. He had already for some time been employed upon missions of no slight moment, and he had even been appointed to proceed to Spain in the capacity of an ambassador. This was a post he would much like to have filled; but the fresh propositions which the queen made to him through Concini were still more to his taste, and he accordingly took his seat at the council-board as the leader of a few obscure but zealous men. It was a ministry inspired by the most vigorous patriotism. One obstacle, however, stood in the way of their usefulness—they had met, so to speak, under the patronage of Marshal d'Ancre, and this circumstance rendered them unpopular.

Richelieu had not long assumed the presidency of the new cabinet when a strange revolution took place in the management of public affairs; it became evident that an experienced hand was at the helm, and that decision and firmness were to be the principles that should prevail. An impartial historian must conceal none of the difficulties which Richelieu had to surmount during this his first ministry. In the first place, although he was nominally the premier, yet his influence was not, by any means, unchecked. The under-secretary Barbin, for instance, had almost equal power; and it was clear that a man of less energy than Richelieu could not have kept the cabinet together for a month. The want of money proved a more serious obstacle; the exchequer was empty, and Richelieu had often to advance funds in order to defray the necessary expenses which occurred in the course of business. The armies were badly equipped, badly paid, and either Richelieu utterly dispirited, or in a complete state of insubordination. There were, besides, no sources of information that could be relied upon; not one single document or copy of a despatch existed at the seat of government; state-papers had never been deemed worth preservation; and the ministers were absolutely compelled to labour in the dark. But difficulties are the test of genius; and Richelieu overcame all those which stood in his way. He began by inviting, in the most energetic manner, the princes and the other rebel leaders to return to their duty; taking, at the same time, all the necessary means of compelling them to do so. Whilst fresh levies were being raised, and the army remodelled, ambassadors were despatched to England, to Germany, to the Netherlands, for the purpose of depriving the rebels of the assistance they expected from those foreign courts. Richelieu's request, however, did not determine the princes to lay down their arms. Consequently all things being now ready, a warrant of high treason was issued against them; three different armies took the field, and attacked them simultaneously in Champagne, Berry, and L'Isle de France. In the course of two months the princes, completely beaten, and driven from the posts which they occupied, were obliged to surrender unconditionally in the hands of the king.

When the coup d'état of April 24, 1617, in bringing De Luynes to power, revived once more, but for a short time only, the expectations of the nobility, Richelieu, by an exceptional piece of good luck, did not suffer for his devotedness to the queen-mother. Probably his position as an ecclesiastic secured to him some measure of respect; but this was not all. He had managed to gain by timely flattery the good-will of the new favourite, and the very alteration which took place in his fortunes only brought him more prominently forward. Banished as he was at Mirebeau, he contrived to interest both parties on his behalf. To the court he adduced his withdrawal from public business as a proof of the most absolute submission; to Marie de Medici he described it as the result of his unremitting zeal for her service, and as a new persecution on the part of her enemies. He thus contrived to weather the storm; and when the excitement produced by the catastrophe of Concini had subsided, he looked round to see what could be done. We cannot enter here into the particulars connected with the disgrace of the queen-mother. Suffice it to say, that Richelieu served her to the utmost of his power, and rendered her party so formidable that it proved a serious obstacle to the ambitious views of the new favourite. The Bishop of Luçon through his intrigues, his determination, and his unscrupulous conduct, had become a dangerous personage; he was first ordered to return to his priory at Coussay, then to his episcopal palace, and finally he was banished to Avignon. There he seemed determined upon leading a life of retirement; and a casual observer, anxious to know how he spent his time, would have found him busily employed in writing theological works. This, of course, was merely a feint, designed to throw his enemies off their guard. Attention to his books did not prevent Richelieu from observing the course of events; and when Marie de Medici contrived to escape from Blois, he joined her without any further delay. By his influence, the whole of the Anjou nobility—the Ducs de Longueville, de Bouillon, d'Epernon—rallied round the standard of the queen. The issue of this campaign is well known. A battle was fought at Pont de Cé, near Angers, where the rebel troops met with a signal defeat. A treaty, nevertheless, concluded shortly after, secured to Richelieu almost as many advantages as if he and not De Luynes had triumphed. The queen received permission to return to court, with the full enjoyment of all the privileges and honours due to her rank; and the king pledged himself to Richelieu solicit a cardinal's hat for Richelieu, whose niece, Maule- moiselle de Pont Courlay, married the Marquis de Combalet, nephew of De Luynes.

After the death of the favourite in 1621, Richelieu did not immediately return to power, but he saw that his day was coming; and when he resumed again the supreme authority, his reign lasted without interruption till the fatal moment which saw him struck down, as it were, at the foot of the scaffold to which he had sent Cinq-Mars and De Thou. Louis XIII., had always, from the very first, felt an unconquerable aversion for the Bishop of Lugon, and it was with the greatest difficulty that Marie de Medici obtained the prelate's appointment to the office of privy- councillor. The patent was signed nevertheless, although no definite duties were assigned to him, it was not long before he cast all his colleagues into the shade. The first important result accomplished by the new ministry was the marriage of Henrietta, the beautiful daughter of the late king, with the Prince of Wales. This match had already been contemplated by La Vieuville under the Luynes administration. It was an object of the highest moment, as it strengthened France against the influence of Austria.—Austria, the Carthage of Richelieu—the enemy which he must destroy at any cost. The Pope, reduced at that time to act as a mere tool in the hands of the Spaniards, was occupying on their behalf the Valdine, and thus protecting their communication with the German empire through the passes of the Alps. Instead of gaining the neutrality of Switzerland by a series of negotiations which would have wasted time, Richelieu sends (1624) the Marquis de Cœuvres against the Papal troops, at the head of a Swiss army, and we witness the singular spectacle of a Roman Catholic prelate defeating the successor of St Peter with weapons both spiritual and temporal—i.e., we say spiritual, because Richelieu had obtained from the theological board at the Sorbonne a sort of salvo for his conscience. Many have professed astonishment at the system of policy thus adopted by the French minister. It has seemed inconsistent for a cardinal to start in his ministerial career by making an alliance with two heretic nations, England and the Netherlands, and by waging war against the Pope; but we must not forget that the preservation of France, as a first-rate political power, was the great end the cardinal had in view: to this he sacrificed every other consideration, and, without any scruple respecting the means employed, pushed forward to the goal. He once said to La Vieuville,—"I never undertake anything without having well considered it; but when I have made up my mind I go on resolutely, overthrowing every obstacle, mowing down every impediment, and then I cover everything under my red gown."

To form an accurate idea of the system of policy pursued by Richelieu, it is only necessary to read Gabriel Naude's Apologie pour les Coups d'Etat. It is there explained in a few pages; and the despotic cardinal might, if he had thought fit, have produced from that volume, chapter and verse to justify the decapitation of Marillac and the death of Paylaurens.

The following year the energetic minister made a trial of his strength upon the Huguenots, but at that period France had no navy, and the Protestants of La Rochelle, supported by the English government, would have easily triumphed over the troops of Louis XIII. if an attack had been directed against that well-fortified town. The Bishop of Lagny determined to wait for a while; and, notwithstanding all the squibs and pasquils which were levelled at him, he treated with the Protestant party. This short delay was employed by him in necessary preparations, and in securing the means of effective action afterwards. He began by obtaining from Montmorency the cession of the admiraltyship; he suppressed the important post of constable, and all the other high offices connected with the crown; an assembly of the notables, called together under Richelieu's own influence, voted considerable reductions in the salaries of the state dignitaries; the fortresses not situated on the frontiers were completely destroyed. These summary reforms evidently were chiefly designed to reduce the power of the nobles. For the achievement of this object, Richelieu spared neither time nor means. The mania of duelling during the seventeenth century had reached so extraordinary a pitch that, in the course of twenty years, 8000 letters of free pardon were signed by the king on behalf of gentilhommes who had either sent or received challenges. This barbarous custom was stopped at once. Comte de Chaville and the Duc de Bouteville had fought a duel on the Place Royale in Paris; they were both beheaded. John Barclay, in the complimentary epistle to Louis XIII., which forms the Preface of his Argenis, says:—"Nec acrior sceptri vindex fuisti, quam deinde salutis singulorum: impio more sublato, qui jubet Gal- lox tuos, levibus inter se rixis commissis, passim jugulum sumo dare, aut petere alienum." Richelieu has a claim to the full benefit of this congratulation; but we cannot believe that humanity was the chief motive which actuated him in his legislative enactments against duelling. He took advantage of what had become a fashionable mania to deal a blow at the nobility, who, he well knew, would quarrel and challenge one another in spite of the strictest edicts.

It was not to be expected that the cardinal would meet with no opposition in the course of his administration. A conspiracy, excited by the Duchess de Chevreuse and some other ladies (the fair sex have always been politicians in France), was organized in support of Gaston, Duke of Orleans. They wanted that indolent prince to wrest from Richelieu's iron hand a sceptre which no one else could safely wield; they had even gone so far as to arrange for him a matrimonial alliance with a foreign princess. The minister lost not a minute; but first he would try what gentle means might do; and he presented D'Ornano, Gaston's governor, with the bâton of a marshal of France. This act of kindness was mistaken for fear, and the conspirators became bolder than ever: then a perfect razzia took place; every legal form was preserved by prosecutors who were entirely and unreservedly devoted to Richelieu. Chalais, the ring-leader, forfeited his life; Gaston in the meanwhile quietly got out of the way, purchased his own safety by the most abject apologies, and whilst the executioner was busy with his friends, he married Marie de Bourbon. D'Ornano died (poisoned 1626) within the walls of the Bastille.

The terrible manner in which Richelieu treated the turbulent remains of feudalism produced for a short time the desired effect; and, free from every other obstacle, he could now devote his whole attention to his favourite scheme, the destruction of the Protestants as a political party in France. The greatest mistake Henri IV. ever committed was the introduction in the Edict of Nantes of the clauses which preserved the status of the Huguenots as a political body. If we examine their condition at the beginning of the reign of Louis XIII., we see that they formed an imperium in imperio, and ambitious men knew well what use to make of this element of strife. Not only did they possess their places of safety, their assemblies, and their military leaders, but the Duc de Rohan entertained the hope of organizing in France a Calvinist republic on the model offered by the united provinces of Holland. The confusion of the temporal and the spiritual principles in matters of government has ever been productive of the greatest mischief; and it seems clear that, if the French Protestants had not yielded to the perfidious solicitations of Rohan and Lesdiguières,—if they had been satisfied with the enjoyment of religious liberty,—they would not, at all Richelieu, events have supplied their adversaries with a pretext to begin the work of destruction which the ill-advised Louis XIV. carried out. An apology for commencing the war was not long wanting. The Duke of Buckingham, who had been foolish and impudent enough to boast openly of being the favoured lover of Anne of Austria, was informed that if he attempted to land in France, orders were issued for his immediate arrest. Highly irritated at this insult, he determined to be revenged; and, at the Duc de Rohan's request, he sailed with a few thousand men to support the Protestant Rochelle in another civil war. Such an expedition might have been crowned with success if the English government had persevered in countenancing the Huguenots; but Charles I. found sufficient work to occupy him at home without interfering with foreign politics; and, despite the most obstinate resistance, the citizens of La Rochelle, left to their own resources, were compelled (1628) to surrender. The war continued for a short time in the south of France; but at last the Duc de Rohan, one of the chief Protestant leaders, laid down his arms; his submission, which brought about that of the whole party, was purchased at the price of a hundred thousand crowns. The taking of La Rochelle may be considered as one of the most important events in the history of Richelieu; it was a fatal blow, not only to the political strength of the Huguenots, but also to the ambition of the nobles. One of those chieftains who accompanied the royal army had said, "We shall not be such fools as to take La Rochelle;" and in expressing himself thus, he gave utterance to the feelings of the whole party; for they had in the capital of French Protestantism a powerful auxiliary with whom they combined when they wanted to annoy the government by the threat of a civil war. La Rochelle surrendered, however; and the best proof that all this transaction was a political, not a religious one, is to be seen in the terms imposed by Richelieu. They were hard, no doubt; but they included neither the demolition of the Protestant churches, nor any infringement of the rights of public worship. We may say, in short, that under the administration of Richelieu, and of his successor Mazarin, the French Protestants were in a very favourable condition.

Richelieu's policy was developed with such energy that success crowned all his endeavours. As to the means employed he never felt very scrupulous; and his subordinates, with the exception of Father Joseph Chavigny, and a few others, were undoubtedly the greatest ruffians of their time. What an interesting sight for any one who could have been admitted for a moment within the walls of that council-chamber when the cadet of the House of Richelieu, now a cardinal, a peer of the realm, and the true king of France, was preparing from his arm-chair by the fireside the unity of the state and the glory of Louis XIV. To see the éminence rouge discussing with Father Joseph—the éminence grise—a plan of attack against John de Wert, or the execution of some impudent young nobleman, compromised in a new freak of the Duke of Orleans. Above the door of that chamber might have been written, by way of a motto, the aphorism which Gabriel Naudé himself proposes: Salus populi suprema lex esto. But let us notice that Robespierre, Danton, and the terrorists of '93, adopted no other motto. There is a point when red republicans and red-cassocked despots meet, both borrowing their statecraft from the atrocious recipes supplied by the Apologie pour les Coups d'Etat.

The Protestants being now subdued at home, Richelieu defeated the Catholics abroad: penetrating into Italy, he secured to the Duke de Nevers the possession of Mantua and of the Montferrat (1630), and destroyed for ever the Spanish influence in a peninsula where that nation had enjoyed an absolute sway since the days of Charles V.

The events of the war had brought the court to the Richelles, south of France. Anne of Austria, Marie de Medici, all the ministers, were there, accompanied by a suite of noblemen, who, not frightened at the fate of D'Ornano and Chalais, were again watching a favourable opportunity to effect the disgrace of Richelieu. These reiterated attempts are surprising enough; but what astonishes us most is, that the conspirators should have allowed themselves to be led astray by Gaston, Duc d'Orleans—a man who, in the hour of danger, would not hesitate to betray his bosom friend, if his own safety could be purchased at such a price. And yet they fell into the snare. The king was dangerously ill at Lyons; they thought the opportunity too good to be lost; and indeed managed so well, that when the court had returned to Paris, the cardinal's disgrace seemed inevitable. But he determined upon making a final effort; and, securing an interview of a quarter of an hour with Louis XIII. at Versailles, he frightened the monarch, and left the palace as powerful as ever. "This coup d'état," says M. Michelet (Précis d'Histoire Moderne), "was a perfect comedy: the cardinals packed off in the morning, and it was the turn of the royalists to make their exit at sunset. Marshal Marillac had to pay for the rest; seized in the middle of his army, he was tried before a court composed of his private enemies, and in the cardinal's very palace at Ruel. Of course, under such circumstances, it was useless to expect mercy: the unfortunate warrior was beheaded. In the meanwhile, what had become of Gaston? Banished with his mother to Brussels, he felt at last some shame at not taking any personal part in the struggle against his enemy. Besides, the Duc de Montmorency, governor of Languedoc, had informed him that his presence in the disaffected provinces would undoubtedly excite a general rebellion. Assisted by the Duc de Lorraine, whose daughter he had married, Gaston raised an army of brigands, as they have justly been termed. Unfortunately, in order to reach Languedoc, it was necessary that this select band should cross France from north to south. Badly paid, badly fed, they took to pillage by way of compensation, and thus materially impaired the cause they were engaged to serve. A battle was fought (1632) at Castelmandary; the king's troops were victorious, and Montmorency shared the fate of Marillac, whilst Gaston d'Orleans, "swore by the faith of a gentleman that he would ever be my lord the cardinal's best friend."

The destruction of the House of Austria was the great object of Richelieu's foreign diplomacy. The Thirty Years' War, now raging in all its fury, had increased an hundredfold the emperor's power. Tilly, Wallenstein, Bernard of Saxe-Weimar—Schiller's heroes—were upholding sword in hand, on many battle-fields, the destinies of the House of Austria. Richelieu's genius and activity checked the valour of the great imperialist generals, and opposed to them a warrior who, in his short career, abundantly proved that a clever system of tactics does not always ensure success. Gustavus Adolphus, the hero of Lutzen, fought at the same time the battles of Richelieu and those of the Protestant cause. After the death of the King of Sweden, the position of France became for awhile extremely difficult. The imperialists assumed the offensive; they had entered France by Burgundy and by Picardy. If Bernard of Saxe-Weimar had not gained the two battles of Rheinfeld and Brissach, it is impossible to conjecture what would have been the issue. In the year 1640, however, Richelieu adopted a more expeditious plan: he occupied the Spaniards at home by sending his support to the rebels of Catalonia and of Portugal; whilst, to retaliate, the government of Madrid espoused the Duke of Orleans' cause, and prepared the catastrophe which was to impart such a tragic feature to the last moments of the great cardinal. Alfred de Vigny's admirable romance has thrown over the insignificant figure of Cinq Mars a lustre which it certainly does not deserve; but the history of this mad-cap conspiracy, whilst it proves to us the cold and selfish character of Louis XIII., is an instructive lecture on the folly of those who trust to the smiles of kings and princes. Richelieu lived long enough to see the French standard hoisted on the walls of Perpignan, and when death at last summoned him away, in the year 1642, he left a successor, Giulio Mazarini, who was one day to complete with almost greater skill than his patron the work begun by Armand Jean du Plessis. In estimating the government of Cardinal Richelieu, it must be admitted that the unity of France was worth purchasing at the expense of some measures of extraordinary severity; but it is equally true that Richelieu's motto was essentially the law of domination, and whatever may have been the results of his administration, the only object he had set his heart upon was to reign without a rival. We should also observe, as the key-stone of the cardinal's home-policy, the establishment of that scheme of absolute monarchy which, ever since the days of Philippe-le-bel, has been gradually developing itself in France. By the ruin of the aristocracy and the insignificant position to which the Parliament were reduced, the balance of power was completely destroyed; and the nation, thus deprived of all legitimate means of making known its wishes, its grievances, and its sympathies, became alienated from rulers who, in the course of time, had not even the merit of energy and enlightened patriotism to justify the abuse of authority. Another important fact, which we have already had occasion to notice, is the reform introduced by Richelieu in the various branches of the service. Here he certainly manifested great discernment, and made for the good of the country sacrifices which cannot be thought lightly of. The following passage from the Testament Politique will be enough to illustrate this fact:—“Je supplie aussi très humblement sa Majesté de trouver bon que l'on lui mette entre les mains la somme de 1,500,000 livres, de laquelle je puis dire avec vérité m'être servi très utilement aux grandes affaires de sa Etat, en sorte que si je n'eusse eu cet argent à ma disposition, quelques affaires qui ont bien succédé eussent apparemment mal réussi, ce qui me donne sujet d'oser supprimer sa Majesté de destiner cette somme que je lui laisse pour employer en diverses circonstances qui ne peuvent souffrir la longueur des formes de finances.”

It will scarcely be credited that Cardinal de Richelieu, amidst all the requirements of politics, found time to cultivate literature. History informs us that Bonaparte was prouder of belonging to the Institute than of wearing the epaulettes of general-in-chief; from the same cause, Richelieu was jealous of Corneille's laurels. The success which the fine tragedy Le Cid obtained “frightened him as much,” Fontenelle says, “as if the Spanish army had been under the walls of Paris.” He composed two plays: Mirame, a tragi-comedy; and La Grand Pastorale, both very indifferent performances. Richelieu, nevertheless, was a true friend to intellectual culture; he founded the Académie Française, enlarged the Sorbonne and the royal printing-office, built the Collège du Plessis, and established the botanical garden known by the name of Jardin du Roi. The only writings of his which will really be found valuable, are his Testament Politique, his Memoirs, and his correspondence. Allusion has already been made to his sermons and to his controversial treatises: a man who mistook Terentianus Maurus for the title of a play, and translated it “The Moor of Terence,” could not be deeply read in classical antiquity. But such matters are trifles in the history of him who conquered the Valetine, the duchy of Savoy, and La Rochelle, and whose genius prepared the peace of Westphalia and the treaty of the Pyrenees. The Bishop of Luçon was not the only remarkable man in the Richelieu family. One of his descendants earned an unenviable reputation as the greatest roué of the last century; whilst another, who died thirty years ago, played a conspicuous and most honourable part in the history of the Restoration.