where she lived in royal state, that the King had actually taken the parchment in his hand to sign the disgrace of his minister.  But he was watched by an eye that never slept; Richelieu suddenly appearing, at the critical moment, from behind the tapestries where he had concealed himself, fronted and defied his enemy.  The King, bewildered, had not nerve enough to face his own servant, who however made him comprehend the dangers which surrounded his throne and person, and compelled him to part with his mother,—­the only woman he ever loved,—­and without permitting her to imprint upon his brow her own last farewell.  “And the world saw the extraordinary spectacle of this once powerful Queen, the mother of a long line of kings, compelled to lead a fugitive life from court to court,—­repulsed from England by her son-in-law, refused a shelter in Holland, insulted by Spain, neglected by Rome, and finally obliged to crave an asylum from Rubens the painter, and, driven from one of his houses, forced to hide herself in Cologne, where, deserted by all her children, and so reduced by poverty as to break up the very furniture of her room for fuel, she perished miserably between four empty walls, on a wretched bed, destitute, helpless, heartbroken, and alone.”  Such was the power and such was the vengeance of the cardinal on the highest personage in France.  Such was the dictation of a priest to a king who personally disliked him; such was his ascendency, not by Druidical weapons, but by genius presenting reasons of state.

The next most powerful personage in France was the Duke of Orleans, brother of the King, who sought to steal his sceptre.  As he was detected in treasonable correspondence with Spain, he became a culprit, but was spared after making a humiliating confession and submission.  But Conde, the first prince of the blood, was shut up in prison, and the powerful Duke of Guise was exiled.  Richelieu took away from the Duke of Bouillon his sovereignty of Sedan; forced the proud Epernon to ask pardon on his knees; drove away from the kingdom the Duke of Vendome, natural brother of the King; executed the Duke of Montmorency, whose family traced an unbroken lineage to Pharamond; confined Marshal Bassompierre to the Bastile; arrested Marshal Marillac at the head of a conquering army; cut off the head of Cinq-Mars, grand equerry and favorite of the King; and executed on the scaffold the Counts of Chalais and Bouteville.  All these men were among the proudest and most powerful nobles in Europe; they all lived like princes, and had princely revenues and grand offices, but had been caught with arms in their hands, or in treasonable correspondence.  What hope for ordinary culprits when the proudest feudal nobles were executed or exiled, like common malefactors?  Neither rank nor services could screen them from punishment.  The great minister had no mercy and no delay even for the favorites of royalty.  Nay, the King himself became his puppet, and was forced to part with his friends, his family, his mistresses, and his pleasures.  Some of the prime ministers of kings have had as much power as Richelieu, but no minister, before or since, has ruled the monarch himself with such an iron sway.  How weak the King, or how great the minister!