What I have just seen is an answer to my doubts the other day.

Now I know with what pangs men pay for their dignities; now I understand That Fortune sells what we believe she gives.
This explains to me the reason why Charles V.aspired to the repose of the cloister.
And yet I have only glanced at some of the sufferings attached to power.
What shall I say of the falls in which its possessors are precipitated from the heights of heaven to the very depths of the earth?
of that path of pain along which they must forever bear the burden of their responsibility?
of that chain of decorums and ennuis which encompasses every act of their lives, and leaves them so little liberty?
The partisans of despotism adhere with reason to forms and ceremonies.
If men wish to give unlimited power to their fellow-man, they must keep him separated from ordinary humanity; they must surround him with a continual worship, and, by a constant ceremonial, keep up for him the superhuman part they have granted him.

Our masters cannot remain absolute, except on condition of being treated as idols.
But, after all, these idols are men, and, if the exclusive life they must lead is an insult to the dignity of others, it is also a torment to themselves.

Everyone knows the law of the Spanish court, which used to regulate, hour by hour, the actions of the king and queen; "so that," says Voltaire, "by reading it one can tell all that the sovereigns of Spain have done, or will do, from Philip II to the day of judgment." It was by this law that Philip III, when sick, was obliged to endure such an excess of heat that he died in consequence, because the Duke of Uzeda, who alone had the right to put out the fire in the royal chamber, happened to be absent.
When the wife of Charles II was run away with on a spirited horse, she was about to perish before anyone dared to save her, because etiquette forbade them to touch the queen.

Two young officers endangered their lives for her by stopping the horse.