ly remembered that its
monarch was the grandson of Henry the Fourth, when it witnessed in his
reign the culmination of the French monarchy, and the splendid
intellectual development with which it was simultaneous.

And that brilliant day of Mazarin's triumph was shadowed by no eclipse.
It was not one of those lucky freaks of fate often followed by long
disgrace: no, that Minister's triumph rested on solid foundations. Not
only he saw at his feet, in the Louvre, all his former enemies
vanquished, but not one of them able to rise again in enmity, for all
their strength was exhausted. The wearied citizens wanted repose, and
placed all their hopes in royalty. The parliaments, ashamed of having
allowed their ancient loyalty to be surprised by the deceitful caresses
of the discontented nobles, returned voluntarily within the prudent
limits of their institution, satisfied with having seen the government
recognise all their legitimate complaints, and bind itself to respect
their just and necessary independence. The aristocracy thought itself
still more fortunate at having thus been extricated from this last
defeat. It left, it is true, upon the field of battle some few of its
feudal pretensions, but in exchange, titles, honours, and wealth were
lavished upon it, and its vanity could at any rate console its ambition.
The good fortune of Mazarin opened the eyes of everyone to his merit. No
one could refrain from applauding his firmness and his capacity. Had he
proved unsuccessful, he would only have been looked upon as a second
Concini; victorious, he was another Richelieu to whom it was necessary
to succumb, but who might be served without loss of honour, because,
after having shown that he was as firm in his principle of government as
his imperious predecessor, he did not play the tyrant; and, far from
making the weight of his power felt, he forced himself rather to
disguise it under flattering words, did not show the least resentment
for former injuries, extended a hand to everyone who came to him,
listened to every complaint that had anything legitimate in it,
entertained every pretension that was at all reasonable, and seemed
disposed to base his government upon skilful concessions and not upon
useless rigour. His star was believed in, his moderation inspired
confidence, and people grew eager to participate in his triumph. Already
at Vendome, a grandson of Henry the Great had espoused one of his
nieces; the proudest among th