much in favour of Leonora’s private character, that Mary of Medicis was so firmly her friend; for, unlike the titled dames who surrounded her, Mary was a modest and virtuous woman. That the marshal and his partner fattened on the spoils of the state it would be folly to deny; but, mean and criminal as such conduct undoubtedly is, we must bear in mind that the crime was common to all the courtiers of that period. Every one was eager, as the French phrase expresses it, “to carry off a leg or a wing.” It was envy, not abhorrence of robbing the public, that caused the destruction of Mary’s favourites. In France, to live upon the imposts squeezed from the people was not deemed an impeachable act, unless, perhaps, by those who had failed to get a share of the pillage; and consequently there was no legal ground for dragging the widow of Concini to the bar. But hatred is ingenious in finding means to effect its purpose. Having first been so effectually plundered by the police officers, that she had not even a change of linen left, she was sent before a special commission, to be tried for Judaism and sorcery. Other charges were brought forward, but it is obvious that they were only meant to increase the odium under which she was labouring. The trial was, throughout, a mockery of justice. Evidence the most trivial in some instances, and absurd in others, was produced to substantiate the charge of Judaism and sorcery. Some Hebrew books, which were found in her apartment, were gravely supposed to be used by her for necromantic purposes. “By what magic did you gain such an influence over the mind of the queen-mother?” was one of the questions put by her judges. “My only magic,” replied the prisoner, “was the power strong minds have over weak ones”—a memorable reply, which goes far to prove that she was a woman of superior talent. Though the judges had, no doubt, been selected for the purpose of ensuring her condemnation to death, it turned out that a mistake had been made with respect to some of them, and that they were not of the opinion of d’Estrées, who thought that the orders of a master ought to be executed, whether they were just or unjust. Five of them absented themselves, and a few others voted for banishment. The majority, however, were faithful to their mission, and she was sentenced to be beheaded, and her remains burnt, and scattered to the winds. By the same sentence, her husband’s memory was branded with infamy, her son was declared ignoble, and incapable of holding office or dignity; their mansion, near the Louvre, was ordered to be levelled with the ground, and all their property was confiscated.