obles, who had ever
regarded the mass of the people but as beasts of burden, made to
contribute to their pleasure. The demands of these proud aristocrats
were incessant and inexorable. It is a singular fact that, among them
all, there was not a more thorough-going aristocrat than Sully
himself. He had a perfect contempt for the people as to any power of
self-government. They were, in his view, but sheep, to be carefully
protected by a kind shepherd. It was as absurd, he thought, to consult
them, as it would be for a shepherd to ask the advice of his flock.
But Sully wished to take good care of the people, to shield them from
all unequal burdens, from all aristocratic usurpations, and to protect
them with inflexible justice in person and in property. His government
was absolute in the extreme.

The Marchioness of Verneuil, in a towering rage, bitterly reproached
the duke for preventing her from receiving a monopoly from the king,
which would have secured to her an income of some five hundred
thousand dollars a year.

"Truly the king will be a great fool," exclaimed the enraged
marchioness, "if he continues to follow your advice, and thus
alienates so many distinguished families. On whom, pray, should the
king confer favors, if not on his relatives and his influential
friends?"

"What you say," replied the unbending minister, "would be reasonable
enough if his majesty took the money all out of his own purse. But to
assess a new tax upon the merchants, artisans, laborers, and country
people will never do. It is by them that the king and all of us are
supported, and it is enough that they provide for a master, without
having to maintain his cousins and friends."

For twelve years Henry, with his illustrious minister, labored with
unintermitted zeal for the good of France. His love of France was an
ever-glowing and growing passion for which every thing was to be
surrendered. Henry was great in all respects but one. He was a slave
to the passion of love. "And no one," says Napoleon, "can surrender
himself to the passion of love without forfeiting some palms of
glory." This great frailty has left a stain upon his reputation which
truth must not conceal, which the genius of history with sorrow
regards, and which can never be effaced. He was a great statesman. His
heart was warm and generous. His philanthropy was noble and
all-embracing, and his devotion to the best welfare of France was
sincere and intense. Witness the fo