[Armand Jean Duplessis, Cardinal and Duke de Richelieu, born 1585, died 1642. Originally trained to arms, as Marquis du Chillon, he decided to take orders, studied theology and was made Bishop of Luçon in 1607. During the minority of Louis XIII he enjoyed the confidence of the queen regent, Maria de’ Medici, and in 1622 received the cardinal’s hat. In spite of the dislike of the king he became prime minister and practically ruled France till his death. Though a prince of the Church, Richelieu secretly assisted the parliamentary party in the English Revolution of 1640; and gave most important assistance both in money and armies, as a matter of state policy, to the Protestants during the Thirty Years’ War.] Richelieu was one of the rulers of mankind in virtue of an inherent and indefeasible birthright. His title to command rested on that sublime force of will and decision of character by which, in an age of great men, he was raised above them all. It is a gift which supposes and requires in him on whom it is conferred convictions too firm to be shaken by the discovery of any unperceived or unheeded truths. It is, therefore, a gift which, when bestowed on the governors of nations, also presupposes in them the patience to investigate, the capacity to comprehend, and the genius to combine, all those views of the national interest, under the guidance of which their inflexible policy is to be conducted to its destined consummation; for the stoutest hearted men, if acting in ignorance, or under the impulse of haste or of error, must often pause, often hesitate, and not seldom recede. Richelieu was exposed to no such danger. He moved onward to his predetermined ends with that unfaltering step which attests, not merely a stern immutability of purpose, but a comprehensive survey of the path to be trodden, and a profound acquaintance with all its difficulties and all its resources. It was a path from which he could be turned aside neither by his bad nor by his good genius; neither by fear, lassitude, interest, nor pleasure; nor by justice, pity, humanity, nor conscience. The idolatrous homage of mere mental power, without reference to the motives by which it is governed, or to the ends to which it is addressed--that blind hero-worship, which would place Wallenstein and Gustavus Adolphus on the same level, and extol with equal warmth the triumphs of Cromwell and of Washington, though it be a modern fashion, has certainly not the charm of novelty. On the contrary, it might, in the language of the Puritans, be described as one of the “old follies of the old Adam”; and to the influence of that folly the reputation of Richelieu is not a little indebted.