Sir James Stephen, in the course of his narration and dissertations, furnishes us with some elaborate delineations of character. That of Cardinal Richelieu is especially good. After saying of him that he was not so much minister as dictator, not so much the agent as the depositary of the royal power, he adds that, “a king in all things but the name, he reigned with that exemption from hereditary and domestic influences which has so often imparted to the Papal monarchs a kind of preterhuman energy, and has so often taught the world to deprecate the celibacy of the throne.” His character, as a despotic innovator, is also finely sketched. “Richelieu was the heir of the designs of Henry IV. and ancestor to those of Louis XIV. But they courted, and were sustained by, the applause and the attachment of their subjects. He passed his life in one unintermitted struggle with each, in turn, of the powerful bodies over which he ruled. By a long series of well-directed blows, he crushed forever the political and military strength of the Huguenots. By his strong hand the sovereign courts were confined to their judicial duties, and their claims to participate in the government of the state were scattered to the winds. Trampling under foot all rules of judicial procedure and the clearest principles of justice, he brought to the scaffold one after another of the proudest nobles of France, by sentences dictated by himself to extraordinary judges of his own selection; thus teaching the doctrine of social equality by lessons too impressive to be misinterpreted or forgotten by any later generation. Both the privileges, in exchange for which the greater fiefs had exchanged their independence, and the franchises, the conquest of which the cities, in earlier times, had successfully contended, were alike swept away by this remorseless innovator. He exiled the mother, oppressed the wife, degraded the brother, banished the confessor, and put to death the kinsmen and favorites of the king, and compelled the king himself to be the instrument of these domestic severities. Though surrounded by enemies and by rivals, his power ended only with his life. Though beset by assassins, he died in the ordinary course of nature. Though he had waded to dominion through slaughter, cruelty and wrong, he passed to his great account amid the applause of the people and the benedictions of the church; and, as far as any human eye could see, in hope, in tranquillity and in peace. What, then, is the reason why so tumultuous a career reached at length so serene a close? The reason is, that amid all his conflicts Richelieu wisely and successfully maintained three powerful alliances. He cultivated the attachment of men of letters, the favor of the commons, and the sympathy of all French idolaters of the national glory.”
In some admirable lectures on the Power of the Pen in France, Stephen gives fine portraits of Rabelais, Montaigne, Calvin and Pascal. One remark about Calvin struck us as especially felicitous. Speaking of him as writing his great work in Geneva, he says—“The beautiful lake of that city, and the mountains which encircle it, lay before his eyes as he wrote; but they are said to have suggested to his fancy no images, and to have drawn from his pen not so much as one transient allusion. With his mental vision ever directed to that melancholy view of the state and prospects of our race which he had discovered in the Book of Life, it would, indeed, have been incongruous to have turned aside to depict any of those glorious aspects of the creative benignity which were spread around him in the Book of Nature.”
The most valuable chapters in the volume are perhaps those which relate to the character and government of Louis XIV. The absolute monarchy established by him is thoroughly analyzed. Among many curious illustrations of that tyranny and perfidy which this great master of king-craft systematized into a science, Stephen translates from his “Memoires Historiques” a series of maxims, addressed to the Dauphin, for his guidance whenever he should be called upon to wear the crown of France. Louis’s celebrated aphorism, “I am the state,” is in these precious morsels of absolutism expanded into a rule of conduct. We quote a few of them, as, to republican ears, they may have the effect of witticisms:
“It is the will of Heaven, who has given kings to man, that they should be revered as his vice-regents, he having reserved to himself alone the right to scrutinize their conduct.”
“It is the will of God that every subject should yield to his sovereign on implicit obedience.”
“The worst calamity which can befall any one of our rank is to be reduced to that subjection, in which the monarch is obliged to receive the law from his people.”
“It is the essential vice of the English monarchy that the king can make no extraordinary levies of men or money without the consent of the Parliament, nor convene the Parliament without impairing his own authority.”
“All property within our realm belongs to us in virtue of the same title. The funds actually deposited in our treasury, the funds in the hands of the revenue officers, and the funds which we allow our people to employ in their various occupations, are all equally subject to our control.”
“Be assured that kings are absolute lords, who may fitly and freely dispose of all property in the possession either of churchmen or of laymen, though they are bound always to employ it as faithful stewards.”
“Since the lives of his subjects belong to the prince, he is obliged to be solicitous for the preservation of them.”