Queens and Princesses 
 
 C-? 
 
 France. 
 
 By George White, m.c.p. 
 
 Late Tutor of St. Edmund's College, and Principal of Bellevue Academy, Kentish Town, 
 
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 ' — ±fE practice of reraarkable vir- 
 
 tues, and the suffering of severe 
 trials, have ever commanded the 
 esteem and sympathy of all men ; 
 but when these qualities are 
 ? united in persons of high birth 
 and gentle sex, our interest in 
 their lives deepens. For it is not 
 generally amidst the seductions 
 and allurements of a court that we look for the dis- 
 play of the most exemplary virtues, nor are the 
 careers of monarchs often checkered with the vicis- 
 situdes of humble life. Yet in the sketches here pre- 
 sented to the reader will be found the highest de- 
 gree of virtue, often united to such trials and suffer- 
 
4 Preface. 
 
 ings as would seem more fitted for the ideal pages 
 of romance than for the severe records of history. 
 As the following pages are chiefly designed for 
 the perusal of youth, (to whom biography is 
 always the most attractive form of instruction 
 and amusement,) such lives only have been 
 selected from the long array of Queens and Prin- 
 cesses who have adorned the throne of France 
 as have been deemed to afford examples of the 
 greatest virtues, exhibited under circumstances 
 of the most trying nature. And lest the descrip- 
 tion of the beauty, talents, wealth, and other 
 worldly possessions of the royal ladies herein 
 commemorated should excite the youthful reader 
 to envy, I would call her attention to the fact 
 of its not being these qualities alone, but the 
 virtues which distinguished them from their con- 
 temporaries, that have earned for them the 
 admiration of posterity. And these qualities you 
 can and ought to imitate; for (adapting the 
 words of Plutarch to Eurydice) ^^ though you may 
 not be able to possess the peai-ls of such a woman, 
 
Preface. 8 
 
 nor the silken robes of another, without paying a 
 large price for them, yet the virtues of a Clotilde, 
 a Eathilde, a Blanche, or of all these other women 
 so celebrated and renowned for their virtues, you 
 may possess without it costing you any thing, and 
 so clothe and adorn yourself with them that you 
 may live happily and gloriously." For if it be 
 possible to lead such good and virtuous lives as 
 they passed in the midst of the pride, pomp, and 
 ^/anities of a court, how much easier must it be to 
 copy their virtues in that happy middle sphere 
 of life, alike free from the dangers of excessive 
 wealth and the straits of a forced daily toil, in 
 w^hich we are free to pass our time in the exercise 
 of the various duties and virtues becoming our 
 station, without exciting the attention and ap- 
 plause of man, and thus perhaps forfeiting the 
 reward attached to their practice! 
 
 In the following selection all stages of female 
 existence will find representatives, — the dutiful 
 and respectful child, the chaste consecrated virgin, 
 
 the tender and devoted wife, (of whom, when 
 
 1* 
 
6 Preface. 
 
 dying, her husband could say it was the only 
 grief she had ever caused him,) the exemplary 
 and loving mother, the holy and chaste widow, the 
 heroic and s-elf-denying sister, the martyr-queen, 
 the great reformer of abuses, the wise counsellor, 
 the converter of souls, and the most devoted 
 heroines of charity and of every other virtue 
 which has gained the fair sex the peculiar privilege 
 of being commemorated in the Church's office as 
 '' devout/' 
 
 In a work of these small dimensions it will not 
 be expected that all the authorities upon which 
 the facts related are grounded should be ad- 
 duced : suffice it to say, that both ancient and 
 modern writers have been consulted, and no 
 pains spared to verify their statements; and 
 when an author is indebted to so many, it 
 would be invidious to select a few for special 
 mention. 
 

 ^1^!^ ^ont^nts 
 
 PAQIS 
 
 St. Clotilda, Queen of Olovis t 9 
 
 St. Radegonde, Fourth Queen of Clotaire 1 18 
 
 St. Batilda, Queen of Clovis It 26 
 
 Bertha, Queen of Pepin the Short 31 
 
 HiLDEGARDE, ThIRD QuEEN OF ChARLEMAGNE *... 84 
 
 Blanche of Castille, Queen of Louis VIII 39 
 
 Margaret, Queen of (St.) Louis IX 49 
 
 Jane of Evreux, Third Queen of Charles the Hand- 
 some 59 
 
 Isabella, Princess of France 61 
 
 St. Jane of Valois, Queen of Louis XII *.. 67 
 
 Mary Stuart of Scotland, Queen-Dauphiness, Queen, 
 
 and Queen-Dowager.. 74 
 
 Elizabeth of Austria, Queen of Charles IX 102 
 
 Louisa of Vaudemont, Queen of Henry III 106 
 
 7 
 
8 Contents. 
 
 FACIJI 
 
 Henrietta Maria, Princess of France, Queen of 
 
 Charles I. of England * ,* 115 
 
 Maria Teresa of Austria, Infanta of Spain, Queen 
 
 of Louis XIV 136 
 
 Mart Leczinska, Princess of Poland, Queen of 
 
 Louis XV 142 
 
 Louisa Maria of France, Daughter of Louis XV 159 
 
 Marie Antoinette, Princess of Austria, Queen of 
 
 Louis XVI 178 
 
 Elizabeth of France, Sister of Louis XVI 198 
 
 Maria Teresa, Duchess of Angouleme, Princess of 
 
 France, Daughter of Louis XVI 213 
 
 Frances d'Amboise, Duchess of Brittany * 240 
 
 Magdalen of Savoy 254 
 
 Mary Felicia des Ursins, Duchess of Montmorency.. 259 
 The Peincess de Conti 273 
 
QUEEN OF CLOVIS I. 
 A.D. 475—545.* 
 
 LOTILDE was niece of Gondebaud, King 
 of tlie Burgundians, who had imbrued his 
 hands in the blood of nearly all his family, 
 in order to increase his rich domains. 
 This princess and her sister, who afterward 
 embraced a religious life, were spared, on 
 account of their youth. Clotilde remained 
 at the court of her uncle, where, although 
 surrounded by Arians, she remained faith- 
 ful to the Catholic religion. She accustomed herself 
 from her earliest years to despise the vanities of the 
 world, and her spiritual exercises strengthened her in 
 this spirit of mortification. Never for a moment did 
 the dangerous pleasures of the brilliant court she lived 
 in afford her the least gratification. Guarded against 
 iheir deceitful lures, she attached no value to any thing 
 
 The dates are (where known) from birth to death. 
 
10 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 but what was eternal, so that her conduct was a continual 
 source of edification to all who approached her. 
 
 The reputation of her virtues, her beauty, and her 
 sweet disposition reached the court of Clovis, King of 
 France, who, having recently conquered the Gauls, 
 sought the alliance of a Catholic princess to secure his 
 conquest and conciliate his new subjects. She consented 
 to marry him, but, as he was a pagan, insisted on the 
 promise to be allowed the free exercise of her dear re- 
 ligion. They were united at Soissons in 493 ; and 
 from that instant Clotilde prayed incessantly for the 
 conversion of her husband, and lost no opportunity of 
 explaining the doctrines of the Christian faith to him. 
 
 Her position, however, was a difficult one. Clovis, 
 the chief of a people a little better than barbarians, was 
 of a ferocious and violent disposition. A wife who 
 should have imprudently opposed such a character 
 would doubtless have fallen a victim to his passions. It 
 was, therefore, in conforming to his habits, in approving 
 his deeds, and sharing in his opinions, in all things 
 which were not opposed to religion, that Clotilde man- 
 aged to gain his afi'ection and confidence to such a 
 degree as to reign entirely over his wild heart. 
 
 The result of this wise conduct was to assure a tri- 
 umphant success to her religion. From the moment of 
 her accession to the throne, Clotilde felt, by the secret 
 inspirations of the Almighty, that she was the chosen 
 
Clotilde. 11 
 
 instrument for the conversion of a great people, and all 
 her actions tended to this glorious result. She took ad- 
 vantage of every occasion to show the superiority of the 
 Christian religion to that of the idols worshipped by her 
 husband. Clovis seemed to hear her with pleasure; but 
 grace had not yet touched his heart. He, however, con- 
 sented that their first child should be baptized. God, 
 doubtless to try the constancy of the queen, took to 
 Himself the child, shortly afterward. This event 
 threw Clovis into a state of despair. He thus upbraided 
 his wife: — ^^My son has died only becauf*e he was bap- 
 tized in the name of your God. He would still have 
 been living, had he been placed under the protection of 
 my gods.^^ The queen only replied, "• I return thanks 
 to my God, the Creator of all things, that He has not 
 found me too unworthy to associate in the number of 
 His elect the fruit of my womb ; for I know that the 
 children whom God takes in their white garments enjoy 
 His beatific vision.^^ 
 
 At the birth of their second son, Clotilde again ob- 
 tained permission to have it baptized. It received the 
 name of Clodomir. Shortly afterward, the young 
 prince fell sick, and fears were entertained for its life. 
 The king gave way to bursts of anger against Clotilde 
 and himself for having permitted him to be baptized. 
 All this time the queen besought the cure of her child 
 from the Father of Mercies. Nor did she pray in vain. 
 
12 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 Clodomir recovered his health miraculously, and the 
 pagan father was obliged to acknowledge the power of 
 the God of the Christians. 
 
 Clotilde wished to profit by this occasion, in order to 
 induce him to abandon the worship of idols, to which 
 she saw well that he showed much less attachment. 
 But political causes still retarded the effects of grace; 
 for Clovis feared lest in changing his religion he might 
 alienate the hearts of his subjects. He contented him- 
 self, therefore, with promising his wife that, on the 
 first favorable occasion, he would fulfil his intention. 
 This occasion soon presented itself. 
 
 The Germans having invaded Gaul, Clovis marched 
 to meet them with the elite of his troops. He gave 
 them battle at Tolbiac, near Cologne, and was on the 
 point of being defeated with his whole army. Already 
 some of his soldiers took flight in the greatest disorder. 
 In vain he invoked his false gods : they were deaf and 
 could not hear him. Then, thinking of his promise, he 
 exclaimed, " God of Clotilde, grant me the victory, and 
 I will embrace your worship V^ Q' Dieu de Clotilde^ 
 fais-moi vaincrej et j^emhrasscrai ton cidte !^'} 
 
 In an instant the fortune of war changed sides; the 
 enemy was seized with a supernatural terror; the army 
 of Clovis rallied at the sound of his voice^ and a most 
 complete victory was obtained. 
 
 The king sent from the field of battle this happy 
 
Clotilde. 13 
 
 news to his wife, assuring her that nothing could now 
 make him defer his conversion. He immediately pre- 
 pared for his reception into the Church. St. Eemi> 
 Bishop of Rheims, instructed him in the doctrines of 
 Christianity, and baptized him in his Church in 496. 
 When the ceremony commenced, and the king bent his 
 head over the baptismal font, — ^^ Sicambre,^^ said the 
 holy bishop, *^ bend humbly thy head ; burn that which 
 thou didst adore, adore that which thou didst burn.^^ 
 (^^ Sicanibre, ahaisse liumhlement ton coic ; adore ce gitc 
 tu as hrUUj hrule ce que tit as adore.^^) 
 
 A great part of the army who had witnessed the 
 miracle at Tolbiac followed the example of the king ; 
 and, later, all France hastened to enjoy the blessings of 
 the Gospel. 
 
 The first wish of Clotilde being obtained, she next 
 endeavored to excite her husband to the performance 
 of actions worthy a disciple of Jesus Christ. At her 
 prayer, Clovis founded at Paris the great church of St. 
 Peter and St. Paul, now called St. Genevieve. He next 
 sent a golden crown to Pope Hormisdas, to show that 
 he consecrated his kingdom to God. He had a great 
 devotion to St. Martin of Tours, and often went to pray 
 at his tomb ; but the rude education which he had re- 
 ceived would often show its results in his conduct and 
 character, notwithstanding the efforts and wise counsel 
 of Clotilde. An ungovernable ambition was, above all, 
 
14 Queens and Frincesses of France. 
 
 lie ruling passion of his conduct, and tlie cause of the 
 crimes he often committed. He died on the 27th o."^ 
 November, 511, in his forty-sixth year, after a reign o^ 
 thirty years. He was interred at Paris, in the church 
 which he had founded. 
 
 After his death the kingdom was divided between his 
 four sons, Thierry, Clodomir, Childebert, and Clotaire. 
 Their dissensions caused the queen the most poignant 
 grief, and she had the misfortune to see her sons take 
 arms against each other. All her efforts to reconcile 
 them were useless; ambition and the thirst of riches 
 had more power over them than a mother's voice. One 
 of them soon met his fate. Clodomir, the eldest, having 
 vanquished and killed in battle Sigismond, King of 
 Burgundy, was in turn routed and put to death by 
 Gondemar, the successor of Sigismond. Clotaire and 
 Childebert then united, but rather from a desire to 
 share his wealth and that of the conqueror than from a 
 desire to revenge their brother's death. Indeed, these 
 two kings entered with great forces the territory of 
 Gondemar, killed him, and took possession of his king- 
 dom. They had already divided that of Clodomir, 
 their brother, to the prejudice of his three children, in 
 their infancy, who found an asylum with their grand- 
 mother. 
 
 Clotilde then lived in solitude at Tours, entirely de- 
 voting herself to the education of her little grand- 
 
Clotilde. 15 
 
 children. She instructed them in the duties they would 
 have to perform if ever they succeeded to the throne of 
 their father. These discourses being reported to the 
 two kingS; who pretended to consider they concealed an 
 attempt on their usurpation^ they conceived a horrible 
 project, the execution of which waS; unfortunately, far 
 from difficult. 
 
 The three sons of Clodomir were drawn by some pre- 
 tence to the court of Childebert, where the two eldest 
 were inhumanly massacred. The youngest was saved, 
 and entered a monastery near Paris, (now the palace of 
 St. Cloud,) where he lived a holy life, and is now 
 venerated as a saint. 
 
 The sight of so many crimes, accumulated in so short 
 a period, rendered the world insupportable to Clotilde. 
 She detached her affection more and more from earthly 
 things, and passed the remainder of her life at Tours, 
 near the tomb of St. Martin, in prayer, fasting, mortifi- 
 cation, and other works of penance. The throne she 
 had filled, the grandeurs she had possessed, caused her 
 no regrets, and did not even hold a place in her memory. 
 The thought of eternity alone filled her soul and ab- 
 sorbed all her faculties. Thus she was filled with a 
 great joy when, praying one day with fervor at the 
 tomb of St. Martin, she received a warning of her ap- 
 proaching death, which event took place thirty days 
 afterward, as she herself predicted. 
 
16 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 Not doubting the reality of this warning, she sent 
 for her two sons, Clotaire and Childebert, to whom she 
 recommended, in the most touching manner, to repair 
 their past crimes by serving God and keeping his com- 
 mandments. " Treat your people as if they were your 
 children,^^ she said to them; ^^ especially protect the 
 poor. Live together in perfect concord, in order to 
 avert from your subjects the terrible consequences of 
 civil war.'' She then commanded the small wealth she 
 preserved to be distributed among the poor ; and, find- 
 ing herself entirely disengaged from worldly matters, 
 she occupied herself with God alone. The thirtieth 
 day of her illness she received the last sacraments with 
 admirable fervor, made a public profession of faith, and 
 died on the 3d of June, 545, after having edified all 
 who were witnesses of her last moments. She was 
 buried, agreeably to her wishes, in the church, and at 
 the foot of the tomb, of St. Genevieve. After the 
 Church had elevated her to the number of the saints, 
 her remains were enshrined, and placed in the abbey 
 church of St. Genevieve, in Paris, where they re- 
 mained until the great Revolution. 
 
 We cannot too much admire in this great princess 
 the sweetness and patience which caused her to triumph 
 over the wild and wayward disposition of her husband, 
 and finally to subdue him to the Church. This ex- 
 
Clotilbe. 17 
 
 ample proves how powerful an ascendency a virtuous 
 woman may gain over her husband, and how glorious 
 is the recompense she will have if she exert it to bring 
 him to the truth and to the practice of the duties of 
 our holy religioa. 
 
 B 
 
f 18 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 t llittknond^, 
 
 FOURTH QUEEN OF CLOTAIRE 1. 
 A.D. 519—587. 
 
 ADEGONDE was the daTic^hter of 
 Berther, King of Thuringia. This 
 prince was killed by his own bro- 
 ther, Hermanfroy, assisted by the 
 Frank kings Theodoric and Clotaire. 
 His two children, who had been 
 spared, fell to the lot of Clotaire : 
 they were Kadegonde, in her ninth, 
 and her brother, in his eleventh year. 
 This young girl saw herself destined to become one day 
 the wife of the murderer of her own kindred. Clotaire 
 caused her to be brought up with care in the royal 
 house of Aties, in Yermandois, where she received a 
 polite and liberal education, to which her disposition 
 much inclined. Long hours of study passed rapidly 
 with her, and she passionately devoured the Latin manu- 
 scripts which her master gave her. Early instructed 
 
Radegonde. 19 
 
 ia the Christian religion, and baptized in her first fer- 
 vor, she ardently embraced the truths of faith. The 
 ;ecital of the lives of the saints transported her with 
 admiration, and she longed for the death of the mar- 
 tyrs. The H^ly Scriptures were also a source of inex- 
 haustible delight to her. The greater part of her time 
 was devoted to prayer, meditation, and reading, and the 
 remainder to the care of the poor, with her own hand 
 dressing their sores, distributing food to them, accom- 
 panying her kind actions by consoling and instructive 
 words. 
 
 The time approached when she was to become queen. 
 She endeavored to fly, but in vain. Despite her repug- 
 nance and the austerity of her life, she had pleased 
 Clotaire. She passed a sad time in the midst of her 
 barbarous court; and it was only when some pious 
 bishop, or some learned man from Italy or Gaul, visited 
 the palace, that she became animated. She loved to 
 discourse with them on science and piety, and only 
 allowed them to depart with presents and a promise 
 that they would shortly return. Her austerities dis- 
 pleased the king, who was accustomed to say that ^'his 
 partner was not a wife, but a nun.^' A new act of 
 cruelty tended to deprive him of his queen's love : he 
 killed her brother. Radegonde reproached him severely. 
 He banished her from his presence, telliDg her " to re- 
 turn to him when she was more submissive and lively/' 
 
20 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 Radegonde left the court, accompanied by a few 
 female friends she had attached to her person, and 
 went to Nozon, where Bishop Medard lived in the odor 
 of sanctity. She entered the church when St. Medard 
 was at the altar. On reaching it she fell on her knees, 
 aftd, joining her hands in supplication, cried out, " Most 
 holy father, I desire to leave the world and change my 
 dress. I implore you to consecrate me to the Lord V 
 
 St. Medard hesitated, when Eadegonde, entering the 
 sacristy, threw over her royal dress a religious habit, 
 and, returning to the sanctuary, presented herself before 
 the episcopal throne and thus addressed the bishop : — 
 *^ If thou hesitate to consecrate me, and fear men more 
 than God, thou wilt have to answer to Him for me ; foi 
 the Shepherd will demand the soul of His sheep V' 
 
 '' It is the will of God,^' answered the holy bishop ; 
 and he proceeded to impose hands on her, and to con- 
 secrate her a deaconess. Radegonde rose, went to the 
 altar, and, taking off all her royal jewels, she laid them 
 on the consecrated stone, saying, " I give these to the 
 poor.'' The people admired the resolution of the 
 queen ; and the Frank lords sent in pursuit by Clotaire, 
 not daring to molest one consecrated 1^ God, departed 
 to acquaint the king of the facts. 
 
 Radegonde had now to avoid the anger of the king 
 She flew to Orleans, embarked on the Loire, and hap 
 pily reached Tours, where she awaited the will of 
 
Eadegonde. 21 
 
 Divine Providence in one of the asylums opened round 
 the tomb of St. Martin. 
 
 The king's fury was most violent. The queen wrote 
 to him, now entreating, now insisting : naught could 
 prevail. Still, the respect of the times to women con- 
 secrated to God withheld him from violating her sanc- 
 tuary. Four years thus passed, when the king, visiting 
 Tours, on pretence of devotion, was about to carry off 
 the queen, but was prevented at the instance of St. 
 Germain, Bishop of Paris. But the queen, apprized 
 of her danger, lied to Poitiers, when Clotaire at length 
 gave way and consented to her consecration, and per- 
 mitted her to erect a convent in that city. He even 
 became quite calm; and though he never saw her, he 
 granted all the requests she made him. These were 
 made always for the good of the people and the welfare 
 of religion. 
 
 It was in 550, six years after her flight from Nozon, 
 that Badegonde entered the convent erected under her 
 direction. Numerous were the applications to be ad- 
 mitted to share the holy queen's solitude. She formed 
 her rule according to that of the convent founded at 
 Aries by Cesaria, sister of St. Cesarius. The sisters 
 divided their time between prayers, transcribing goo^ 
 books, embroidery, and pious reading. 
 
 The spiritual progress of her daughters, their well 
 being, their happiness, and advancement in the way of 
 
22 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 faith, was tlie great object of the solicitude of Rade- 
 gonde. Oh, who could describe the state of the pious 
 community in which veneration for virtue and respect 
 for rank were confounded in the same sentiment ! They 
 beheld their queen, who had descended from her throne 
 to instruct them, but who gloried in forgetting her 
 title, in order that they might the better regard her as 
 their mother. She often addressed them in language 
 in which the tenderness of her soul burst forth, as her 
 historian has recorded. " You/^ she said, ^^ I have 
 chosen for my daughters. You are tender plants, — the 
 object of my most precious care You are my eyes, 
 you are my life, my repose, and my only joy.'' 
 
 Her humility, however, prevented her from keeping 
 the title of superior. She wished to serve, and not be 
 served. She therefore appointed as abbess the young 
 Agnes, of noble Gaulish race, who had enjoyed her 
 intimacy from childhood, and who had followed her 
 from court to Nozon, and thence to Tours, and had been 
 in all her troubles her companion and solace. After the 
 election, Radegonde descended to the grade of simple 
 sister, partook of the labors of the house, in praying, 
 watching, fasting, and other austerities. In her turn 
 she swept the house, served in the kitchen, bore wood 
 and water, was portercss, and found the greatest delight 
 in the exercise of humility, in which the saints place 
 their happiness. She might have said, as was later said 
 
Radegonde. 23 
 
 by St. Teresa^ ^^ I was happy in sweeping the choir to 
 think that I was preparing the place where the praises 
 of the Lord were sung; and in doing, unknown to my 
 isisters, some work they had forgotten^ to think that I 
 had the honor of serving the servants of God/' 
 
 Radegonde had not, however, made the rules with 
 excessive severity. To the hours of prayer and work 
 succeeded those of innocent recreation. These holy 
 women, who abstained throughout the year from meat 
 and wine, well knew how to exercise a generous hos- 
 pitality. When bishops, priests, or pious laymen visited 
 the convent, they were received with that Roman hos- 
 pitality which still distinguished the Gauls from the 
 other provinces of the empire. The abbess caused 
 dinners to be prepared which were frequently graced by 
 the presence of Radegonde herself. The rules of the 
 convent were calculated to prevent any abuse; but there 
 was no stranger of distinction who did not wish to visit 
 the convent, so far had its renown spread; parents came 
 to see their daughters, or brothers their sisters. By a 
 kind of instinct which collects together noble souls, the 
 first nuns of Poitiers were nearly entirely women of 
 education and of rank, for a great line of demarcation 
 separated the Frankish women recently converted from 
 paganism from the women of Roman descent. There 
 was scarcely a distinguished family in Gaul who had 
 not given a daughter to the house at Poitiers, — too 
 
24 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 hippy to live near Radegonde. Later came the daugh* 
 ters of kings, victims of the crimes of their fathers. 
 
 Among the visitors to the convent was Vinantius 
 Fortunatus, who had come from Italy in 567, attracted 
 by a love of voyage. He was gifted with rare talents, 
 which soon attracted the attention of Radegonde. He 
 also was much struck by the piety and learning of the 
 holy queen. He was still young, and had not determined 
 his vocation. ^^Why do you not take holy orders/' 
 asked Radegonde of him one day, '^and serve the church 
 in Poitiers ? You will then be near us, and your pre- 
 sence will be a protection to us.'' This counsel of the 
 queen was acted upon by Fortunatus, who soon took 
 orders, and entertained throughout his life the greates 
 respect and affection for Radegonde, whom he always 
 addressed as w other. She repaid his attachment by 
 unbounded confidence With him she delighted to 
 think over her past troubles. Time had not quite 
 effaced the painful reminiscences of the massacre of her 
 family and her own capture. She ever recognised her 
 country in the enslaved Thuringia. She recalled with 
 tears the names of her parents, and wrote letters full of 
 the tenderest affection to princes whom bhe knew not, to 
 the sons of one of her uncles who had taken refuge in 
 Constantinople. 
 
 So sad was the recollection of her early life, that 
 whenever any one praised her, she replied, ^' I am only 
 
Eadegonde. 25 
 
 a poor stolen woman V^ She was, however, far from being 
 always of a melancholy disposition. She had ever some 
 cheerful moments to devote to her friends, and of which 
 Fortunatus has left some lively descriptions. 
 
 The life of lladegonde, inscribed in the ^^ Lives of 
 the Saints/' was full of good v/orks. By a rare dis- 
 tinction, she can serve as a model for all conditions; she 
 had an admirable mixture of the strongest qualities; 
 with the tenderest sensibilities of the female heart; she 
 stood forward as a noble figure in a barbarous age, with 
 exquisite purity in the midst of the grossest manners ; 
 and Poitiers will ever retain ineffaceable traces of the 
 good she brought upon the town. 
 
 The veneration of the people still exists toward the 
 foundress of the convent of Poitiers, whose holy relics 
 repose under the altar of the church of that city. 
 
26 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 QUEEN OF CLOVIS II. 
 A.D. 635—680. 
 
 ATILDA, born in England, was sold 
 for a slave in her early infancy, and 
 bought by a French gentleman named 
 Erchinoald, who treated her kindly 
 and had her educated with care. By 
 the misfortune of her position Batilda 
 acquired inestimable gifts, a sincere 
 piety and a profound humility. Reli- 
 gion, the source of all virtue, endued 
 her with so much wisdom and prudence, that her master 
 relied so completely on her as to place the management 
 of his household entirely in her hands. Batilda, far 
 from being puffed up by this distinction, became more 
 modest, more submissive to her fellow-slaves, and always 
 ready to serve the meanest of them in the lowest offices. 
 Erchinoald became mayor of the palace under Clovis II 
 It is well known what a high rank those invested with 
 this dignity acquired ; but the renown which accrued 
 
Eatilda. 27 
 
 to tlie master did not equal that which the virtues of s 
 the slave soon obtained throughout France. Nothing 
 was spoken of but the sanctity of Batilda and her high 
 qualities even in worldly affairs. 
 
 The young king, wishing to choose a wife, was at- 
 tracted by the virtues and sweet qualities of the young 
 slave, and declared his intention of marrying her. This 
 choice was approved of by the princes and all the king- 
 dom. The marriage took place without opposition in 
 the year 649. 
 
 This unexpected elevation, which would have turned 
 the strongest head of a person addicted to pride, pro- 
 duced no alteration in a heart perfectly grounded in 
 humility and other virtues. She seemed even to become 
 more humble than before, and more tender to the poor, 
 whom she looked upon as her children. The king, who 
 loved her tenderly, often allowed himself to be led by 
 her counsel ; and historians bear testimony to her reign 
 being the happiest of those of the first race. 
 
 This prince died in the seventh year of his marriage, 
 after having acquired the kingdom of Sigebert, King 
 of Austrasia, which made him master of the whole 
 French empire. He left three sons, Clotaire, Chil- 
 deric, and Thierry. The eldest of these princes was 
 but five years old. Clovis II. having neglected to 
 divide his kingdom between them, the principal lords 
 undertook the partition. They gave to Clotaire Neus- 
 
28 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 tria and Burgundy, and Austrasia to Childeric. They 
 also gave the regency to Batilda; thus rendering a 
 public and striking testimony to her virtues. 
 
 The queen sustained this double charge with a ca- 
 pacity which excited the admiration of the most ex- 
 perienced ministers, and which obtained for her the 
 love of all her subjects. She managed to maintain peace 
 and good order among them, notwithstanding the dif- 
 ferent castes which conquest had introduced into her 
 kingdoms. 
 
 There were three principal divisions among her sub- 
 jects : first, the Franks, a privileged race, who alone 
 enjoyed all the benefits of liberty; secondly, the de- 
 scendants of the ancient Gauls, of whom the principal 
 part were serfs, that is, they were dependants on 
 manors and farms, and obliged, besides paying tribute, 
 to render personal servitude to their lords ; and thirdly, 
 those in a state of slavery, whom the Romans had in- 
 troduced, and who had been sufiered to subsist by the 
 Franks. 
 
 The condition of the slaves was extremely hard, so 
 that the queen (who in her youth had felt its severity) 
 determined to diminish the number of these unfortu- 
 nate victims, in giving liberty to all the slaves belonging 
 to the crown, and in redeeming with her own money a 
 large number of private slaves. 
 
 She did more. She abolished the cruel imposts upon 
 
Batilda. 29 
 
 slaves^ and by this generous and public act commenced 
 the fusion of the two people, which a humiliating dis- 
 tinction had separated too long. 
 
 The pious queen was not less solicitous about every 
 thing which related to the welfare of the Church and 
 the comfort of the poor and all classes. She founded 
 a large number of hospitals, restored a great many 
 abbeys, — among others, those of St. Martin, St. Denis^ 
 and St. Medard, — and founded two celebrated monas- 
 teries, one for men, at Corbie^ and another for women, 
 at Chillis, near Paris. 
 
 Yet, in the midst of so many and diversified occu- 
 pations, and the pomp of a splendid court, Batilda 
 sighed after retreat, for which she felt an invincible 
 attraction. As soon as her son Clotaire III. was of age 
 to govern the kingdom, she placed the reins of state in 
 his hands; and, despite his supplications, those of his 
 brothers, and the whole court, she went to the convent 
 at Chillis, where she took the veil in 665. 
 
 There she distinguished herself in no way from the 
 other religious, except by her greater humility, her 
 recollection, and her fervor in prayer. Far from re- 
 membering the rank she had abandoned, she was as 
 obedient to St. Bertilla, the abbess, as the last of the 
 sisters, and even humbled herself so much as to render 
 the latter many of the lowest services. Her charity to 
 the sick, however, was the most remarkable. Her 
 
30 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 sweetest pleasure was to visit them, to serve tliem, and 
 to console them by her exhortations, and to dispose 
 them to render their sufferings salutary by offering 
 them to Grod. 
 
 The sufferings she herself endured toward the close 
 of her life were to her an occasion of showing the 
 most perfect resignation, and, indeed, holy joy. Before 
 her death, she would have all the sisters in the room, 
 and ceased not to give them the most touching exhort- 
 ations. That which she particularly recommended to 
 them was perseverance in the service of God and com- 
 passion for the poor. She died in these pious senti- 
 ments on the 30th of January, 680 ; and the Church 
 hastened to give her name to the faithful, for their 
 veneration. 
 
 How admirable are the views of Divine Providence ! 
 of a poor female slave to make a great queen and still 
 greater saint ! Her modesty in her exaltation, her ap- 
 plication to the public weal, her luve for retreat, hei 
 humility in the midst of her subjects when she becams 
 their companion, — all the&e virtues were the fruit of 
 religion. If we cannot in every thing imitate so per- 
 fect a model, at least let us endeavor to gain some oi 
 her virtues. 
 
Bertha. 
 
 81 
 
 i?rllui, 
 
 QUEEN OF PEPIN THE SHORT. 
 A.D. 7 783 
 
 U temps que la Reine Bertlie jilaii^^ 
 ^^At the time when Queen Bertha 
 wove/' is a saying which carries us 
 hack to the earliest French chronicles, 
 and shows us with what esteem Ber- 
 tha was regarded hy the early French, 
 who looked upon her as "the type of 
 royal and feminine perfection/' — her 
 name itself meaning " very wise." 
 This renown, however, is nearly all that remains to 
 remind us of Queen Bertha's industry. Unlike our 
 own Matilda, (whose name has somewhat the same 
 reputation with us for proficiency in needlework as 
 Bertha has with the French,) she has left no work 
 behind her as a proof of her skill. 
 
 But Bertha has been celebrated in poems, — rare rnd 
 curious poems, — which the caro and taste of literary 
 
32 Queens and Princesses or France. 
 
 men have rescued from the perdition which threatened 
 them in some old, forgotten libraries. The greatest 
 title, however, of Bertha to the admiration and vene- 
 ration of posterity, is the fact of her being the mother 
 of Charlemagne. \Yhen, at the French Revolutioa, 
 the tombs and effigies of the kings and queens of France 
 were devastated and scattered to the winds, one rude 
 stone was found bearing this short but significant in- 
 Bcription : — 
 
 BERTA . CAROLI . MAGNI . MATER. 
 
 It is generally supposed (for it cannot be ascertained 
 "with certainty) that Bertha was the daughter of Her- 
 bert, Count of Laon. She married Pepin when he was 
 mayor of the palace and Duke of Austrasia. On his 
 assuming the power and title of king, Bertha was 
 crowned with him at Soissons, by St. Bonifice, Arch- 
 bishop of Mayence, in 752. She ever accompanied 
 her husband, did the honors of the royal table, and 
 received with Pepin, Pope Stephen II., when this 
 pontiff came to solicit the assistance of the King of the 
 Franks against Astolphus, King of Lombardy. Bertha 
 was again crowned with her husband by the Pope. The 
 place of this second coronation is not known with cer- 
 tainty : it is supposed to have been at the Abbey of 
 Ferrier. It was in the court of this abbey that the 
 combat between Pepin, a lion, and a bull, by which 
 
Bertha. HS 
 
 he acquired such a great renown for strengtli, took 
 place. 
 
 The result of this pontifical visit was the war which 
 Pepin engaged in against Astolphus, from whom he 
 took Kavenna, which he bestowed on the Pope^ and 
 hence laid the foundation of the temporal power of the 
 Bishops of Eome. 
 
 The name of Bertha next occurs at Vienne, in Dau- 
 phiny, at the death-bed of Pepin's brother-in-law, Car- 
 loman. The historian and secretary of Charlemagne, 
 Egenhard, tells us that that prince ever bore the 
 greatest love and respect to his mother, and no differ- 
 ence of opinion ever existed between them. She died 
 in 783, at Choisy, and was buried by her son, at St, 
 Denis, by the side of her husband. 
 
34 
 
 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 gildcprdi^, 
 
 THIRD QUEEN OF CHARLEMAGNE. 
 A.D. 735—782. 
 
 rILDEGARDE, a princess of German 
 origin, was the third and best-loved 
 of the wives of Charlemagne. She 
 accompanied her noble husband into 
 Italy, where, after a succession of tri- 
 umphs, he freed Christian Rome from 
 her dependence on other states, and 
 with his powerful sword cut out the 
 limits of the territories which henceforward were to 
 form the temporalities of the head of the Catholic 
 Church on earth. He spent, with his queen, the Easter 
 at Rome, where they were received and entertained with 
 the greatest magnificence. 
 
 Charles, in all the glow of youth and glory, bearing 
 stamped on his countenance the dignity of majesty 
 and the sweet mildness of his nature, was saluted by the 
 acclamations of thirty thousand persons, who issued 
 
HiLDEGARDE. 35 
 
 from the gates of Rome to receive liim. Charles dis- 
 mounted as he entered the city, and, walking to the 
 Vatican, kissed respectfully, as he ascended, the steps 
 of St. Peter's. Pope Adrian received him at the por- 
 tico, surrounded by a numerous train of bishops. The 
 Pope and the emperor embraced, and then proceeded 
 to visit the tomb of the Apostles, where they swore 
 solemnly never to intrench upon the rights of each 
 other : noble bond of union between the representatives 
 of the greatest spiritual and temporal power on earth. 
 
 The next day, being Easter Sunday, after mass, the 
 Pope gave the emperor a magnificent banquet. The 
 third day he returned thanks to Charlemagne for all 
 the gifts he had received from Pepin, his father, and 
 himself. The fourth day the Pope celebrated mass 
 before the emperor at St. Paul's ; and on the fifth be- 
 sought him to confirm all the gifts heretofore made 
 to the Holy See. This Charlemagne did, confirming 
 the various documents, and placing his seal on each, 
 and causing them to be signed by all the bishops and 
 nobles present, as witnesses. Two copies of these docu- 
 ments were made, one being deposited under the altar 
 of St. Peter's, the other given into the possession of the 
 emperor. The next day the emperor returned to Pavia. 
 
 On a second visit to Rome, Charlemagne again re- 
 newed his allegiance and fealty to the Pope, who con- 
 sented that he should be crowned King of Italy. At 
 
36 Queens and Piuncesses of France. 
 
 some leagues from Milan, at Monza, there was pre- 
 served, in a rich reliquary, au iron crown, (said to have 
 beea made from one of the nails which bore our Savior 
 on the cross,) the work of Theodelind. Charles placed 
 this on his brow, and was anointed by the archbishop 
 on his shoulders^ which bore the cares of state, on hi& 
 breast, the seat of the affections, and at his snoulderfe 
 and elbows, which bore the weight of arms. Then he 
 fixed a sword at his girdle, placed bracelets on his arms, 
 a ring on his finger, and declared him King of Italy. 
 
 After this period Charlemagne fixed his court at 
 Aix-la-Chapelle. In summer the cares of war called 
 Charles away : fifty-three military expeditions attest his 
 wonderful activity and despatch in campaign. In win- 
 ter he retired to enjoy peace in the centre of his court. 
 He received the nobles there ; but he particularly che- 
 rished the society of bishops and learned men, admit- 
 ting many of them to his most intimate friendship, and 
 maintained an easy cheerfulness with them without 
 causing them for an instant to forget his high rank and 
 power. The queen was the centre of this circle, and 
 by her sweet and engaging manners tended much to 
 soften the characters of the warlike courtiers. The 
 emperor sometimes took her with him in his cam- 
 paigns. 
 
 In 780, Hildegarde accompanied her husband and 
 children in a journey to Eome^ ^Ho fulfil a vow, and 
 
HiLDEGARDE. 37 
 
 pray at tlie tombs of the Apostles/^ Charlemagne 
 passed the whole of that winter in Italy, with his wife, 
 spending Christmas at Pavia, and Easter at Rome. 
 There the Pope anointed the emperor's children : 
 Pepin, as King of Lombardy; and Louis, as King 
 of Aquitaine. The royal family then went to Milan, 
 where Bishop Thomas christened Gisella, who was 
 born there. When the rigors of the season, or deli- 
 cate health, prevented the queen from accompanying 
 the emperor, she lived in retreat, entirely occupied in 
 religious exercises and works of charity and piety. 
 She shared with Charlemagne the administration of 
 his domains and royal farms, to which she was so at- 
 tentive that she knew the exact number of eggs her 
 poultry-yard produced, and also the quantity of fruit 
 and vegetables in the royal gardens. Charlemagne con- 
 sidered that a wise economy should even be seen in the 
 imperial household, and by that means set an example 
 of the same to his subjects. The prudence of the em- 
 peror in regulating his revenue enabled him to dimi- 
 nish taxation, and lefb him abundance to give in alms- 
 deeds. Hildegarde generally was the medium of these 
 royal bounties, in which she took great delight. She 
 also founded the Abbey of Kempten, and other reli- 
 gious establishments, and died giving birth to her young- 
 est daughter, Adelaide, on Ascension Eve, in the year 
 782. 
 
88 Queens and Princesses or France. 
 
 The three princesses who survived her and remained 
 at their father's court (for he would never suffer them 
 to part from him) were Eotrude, Grisella, and Bertha. 
 Though they were well instructed in literature, they 
 were not allowed to neglect the more robust accom- 
 plishments. They rode on horseback, and followed the 
 hunt; they also spun and made their own dresses, for 
 Charlemagne would not allow them to wear any thing 
 but what they had made themselves, — thus in his own 
 family setting a brilliant example to the maidens of 
 his kingdom. 
 
Blanche of Castille. 39 
 
 SIanr!i4 of CastHI^, 
 
 QUEEN OF LOUIS VIII. 
 A.D. 1187—1252. 
 
 ^^, LANCHE was the daughter of Alphon- 
 1^^^ sus IX., King of Castille, and of Elea- 
 nor of England. From her childhood 
 
 she displayed great firmness of cha- 
 racter, and an austerity of manners far 
 . beyond her age. She was married at 
 the age of thirteen to the young Prince 
 Louis, eldest son of Philip Augustus, 
 und who afterward reigned under the title of Louis VIII. 
 This union, which took place on the 23d of May, 1200, 
 s\ras one of the conditions of the peace concluded the 
 uame year between this monarch and the King of Eng- 
 land, uncle to the bride. She was conducted to Nor- 
 mandy, where the marriage took place with a magni- 
 ficence worthy of the three kingdoms interested in 
 this alliance. Every /^'e and amusement then in vogue 
 was inaugurated in honor of the occasion; but the two 
 
40 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 fc3trotlied were their most beautiful and graceful orna- 
 ment. They were of the same age, and gifted with 
 every quality which could attract the esteem and love of 
 those who surrounded them. The most flattering eulogy 
 has been pronounced on them, that they lived together 
 for twenty-six years without a single disagreement. 
 
 But the wit and wisdom of Blanche were no less 
 remarkable than hcir beauty and nobleness of character; 
 so that her father-in-law, the king, would often consult 
 her, and pay the greatest deference to her advice ; and 
 so great was the ascendency she acquired over her hus- 
 band, that he would insist on her presence in the council- 
 chamber, and even at his military expeditions. 
 
 When Blanche became a mother, she exhibited still 
 greater virtues. Esteeming it a great duty to nourish 
 her children, she would not suffer this care to devolve 
 on another. The eldest of her sons dying at an early 
 age, the second, being destined to rule over France, 
 became the object of his mother's tenderest care. She 
 seemed to foresee the glory which this prince would 
 shed over his house, and at his birth ordered the church- 
 bells to be rung, (which had ceased for fear of disturbing 
 the queen,) ^'to invite all the people to go and praise 
 God for having given her so sweet a son.^' 
 
 Blanche devoted herself entirely to the formation of 
 the mind of this young prince. Every evening before 
 they retired to rest she took her children on her knee, 
 
Blanche of Castille. 41 
 
 caressed them most affectionately, and told tliem some 
 little anecdote of some virtuous action^ so as to impress 
 it on their infant minds. She repeatedly said to Louis, 
 '' My 80N, God knows how tenderly I love you ! 
 
 BUT I WOULD RATHER SEE YOU DEAD AT MY FEET 
 
 THAN GUILTY OF ONE MORTAL SIN I" — words repeated 
 from age to age to the praise of the good Blanche of 
 Castille! 
 
 The sublime virtues which animated this princess 
 shone forth still more brightly when, at the death of 
 Philip iVugustus, she mounted the throne as the consort 
 of Louis YIII. This brilliant position, far from ener- 
 vating her, made her labor with more ardor, in concert 
 with the king, to insure prosperity for France, which, 
 after her own salvation, was the object of her most 
 ardent thoughts. 
 
 During the war which the king was engaged in with 
 the Albigenses, Blanche invariably accompanied him, 
 and caused her tent to be erected by the side of her 
 husband's. The germs of an epidemic disease, which 
 had already seized upon many victims in the camp at 
 Avignon, broke out fearfully as the army entered 
 Auvergne. On the 29th of October, as he entered 
 Montpensier, the king felt himself attacked, and was 
 forced to take to his bed. Assembling round it the 
 nobles who had accompanied him, and several bishops^ 
 he made them swear fealty to his son Louis, and de- 
 
42 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 clared his wife Blanche regent of the kingdom during 
 his minority. The king died in the sentiments of the 
 greatest piety on the 8th of November, 1226. The 
 purity of his manners and his goodness of heart had 
 caused him to be much loved and respected ; and it is 
 said that, on his physician proposing a remedy which 
 he could not innocently use, he rejected it, saying, ^^ It 
 is better to die than to save my life by a mortal sin.'' 
 
 Blanche, after the funeral offices had been performed 
 over her departed husband, conducted her son to be 
 crowned at Bheims. This ceremony took place on St. 
 Andrew's Day, 1226, the young prince being but eleven 
 years and a half old. The effect of his education was 
 seen in Louis on this occasion, when he visibly trembled 
 on pronouncing the oath ^^ to employ his power only for 
 the glory of God, the defence of the Church, and the 
 good of his people.'' Penetrated with a deep sense of 
 the responsibility he incurred, he pronounced from the 
 bottom of his heart these words of the prophet David, 
 ^^ To Thee^ Lord, I have raised tny soul; and in 
 Thee do I place my confidence^ On leaving the 
 cathedral, Blanche tenderly embraced her son, and then 
 betook herself to the great charge of governing the king- 
 dom for him, and defending his rights. 
 
 For the principal nobles, being discontented at the 
 appointment of a woman as regent, or rather making 
 that the pretence for increasing their own power to the 
 
Blanche of Castille. 43 
 
 prejudice of that of the king, formed a league, the suc- 
 cess of which at first seemed to be certain. The first at- 
 tempt was to carry off the young king ; but this did not 
 succeed, for the queen disconcerted all their measures. 
 She summoned all the nobles devoted to her cause, and 
 showed clemency and favor to all who returned to their 
 loyalty. The army was also collected, and by her 
 prompt and resolute conduct she soon broke up the 
 league, and brought the dissatisfied nobles to a sense of 
 their duty. 
 
 Blanche succeeded equally well in the war against 
 the Duke of Brittany, whom she defeated, despite the 
 assistance he received from the English ; and also in 
 that against the Albigenses, which she brought to a 
 happy termination. In these wars she went v/ith her 
 son at the head of his troops, and by her wise conduct 
 caused him to be loved by the people, while at the same 
 time she strengthened his power. 
 
 She hence bestowed her care on the marriage of the 
 king, and selected for him Margaret, daughter of Be- 
 renger, Count of Provence, a princess illustrious for her 
 virtues and for her great attachment to her husband. 
 The young queen took for her device a garland composed 
 of Ulies and daisies. This was engraved round the 
 wedding-ring, with these words, ^^Love may not exist 
 out of this ring/' The same device was worked on the 
 royal mantle. 
 
44 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 • Louis was now admitted to a share in the govern- 
 ment^ and partook of its cares^ so that, though the term 
 of the regency had expired, there was little difference 
 in the royal council, except such as would leave no pre- 
 text for the ambitious and discontented nobles to com- 
 plain of being ruled by a ^^ foreign woman/' as they 
 called the good Blanche. 
 
 For from this moment Queen Blanche ceased to bear 
 the title of regent of the kingdom ; but she still, at her 
 son's desire, kept her place as his chief adviser. They 
 continued to live in perfect harmony, and, having nothing 
 but the good of the state in view, they could not fail to 
 agree in their counsels, and in many acts of this time 
 are inscribed the words by the advice of " my lady and 
 dear mother, the illustrious Queen of the French.'' 
 
 The time had now arrived when Blanche was to 
 enter upon a second regency, — a time of painful trial 
 for her matjernal heart. The king's health had suffered 
 much since the expedition to Poitou; and in the early 
 days of Advent (1244) he was attacked with a malady 
 which nearly brought him to death's door. The two 
 queens prayed fervently at his bedside for his cure, 
 and all France crowded to the churches to ask the life 
 of so good a king. During his illness Louis made a vow 
 to go and fight in the Holy Land the enemies of the 
 faith. On suddenly recovering his health and speech, 
 (for he had been dumb,) he insisted on receiving the 
 
iSLANCHE OF CaSTILLE. 45 
 
 cross fiom the hands of the Bishop of Paris^ notwith- 
 standing the remonstrance of that prelate. 
 
 ^^AVhen the good Queen Blanche/^ writes Tourville, 
 ^' heard that he had recovered his speech and health, 
 her joy was unbounded; but when she heard he had 
 vowed to take the cross, she was as sad as if she had 
 heard of his death/' 
 
 Five years elapsed since Louis had taken the vow, 
 and all eflbrts of Blanche, his mother, Margaret, his 
 wife, and the nobles and bishops, had been in vain to 
 dissuade him from his purpose. At their separation 
 Blanche swooned into the arms of her son, shedding 
 torrents of tears, as if she had a presentiment that it 
 was their last parting; and while Louis continued his 
 route to Marseilles with Margaret, Blanche returned 
 alone to Paris, where her son Alphonsus awaited her, 
 to spend some time with her, to console her, and to aid 
 her in bearing the burden of state affairs. 
 
 A great sadness took possession of Blanche during 
 the absence of her son. At first her sorrow was tem- 
 pered by the news of the taking of Damietta, and the 
 greatest joy and public festivities were the result of the 
 joyful tidings. She continued to govern the kingdom 
 with the greatest skill and firmness, as the following 
 anecdote will prove : — 
 
 Being informed that the people of Chatenay (near 
 Paris) had been imprisoned in wretched dungeons on 
 
46 Queens and Princesses of Trance. 
 
 account of their refusal to pay the dues to the chapter 
 of that place^ and that they were so ill fed and badly 
 treated that many had died in consequence, Blanche 
 ordered the chapter to release their prisoners. To this 
 Bummons they replied ^^ that no one had a right to 
 interfere with their subjects/' and ordered the wives 
 Hnd children of the prisoners to be taken and placed in 
 dungeons. 
 
 On hearing this, the queen regent went, accompanied 
 by her guards, to the prison, and ordered it to be 
 opened; but the keepers re&ised to incur the responsi- 
 bility of so doing. Blanche then struck the doors with 
 the ivory cane which she bore. Immediately, with 
 enthusiastic shouts, the bystanders emulate one another 
 in their efforts to complete the work. The priso-ns are 
 burst open, the prisoners rush forth and throw them- 
 selves at the queen's feet, and beg her protection, to 
 perfect what she had begun, for it was necessary to 
 preserve them from the vengeance of the chapter. 
 Blanche fulfilled their desires, and obliged the chapter 
 to enfranchise all the lands of Chatenay for a small 
 fine. 
 
 The news of Louis's captivity in Egypt threw 
 Blanche, with all Christendom, into a state of the 
 greatest grief. Alphonsus, her second son, took the 
 cross, and went with great succor of men and money 
 to the relief of his brother. The king's ransom cost 
 
Blanche of Castille. 47 
 
 five millions, which Blanche paid out of the public 
 funds, which were in a most prosperous state through- 
 out her wise regency. 
 
 The long absence of Louis, who, report stated, had 
 determined to settle in Palestine, and the death of 
 Robert, Count of Artois, one of her sons killed at the 
 battle of Massoura, struck Blanche with the deepest 
 sorrow, which it is thought brought on the illness of 
 which she died. On feeling the first attack, she re- 
 ceived the Holy Sacrament from the hands of her con- 
 fessor, the Bishop of Paris. Some days later she sent 
 for the Abbess of Maubuisson, (a convent near Pon- 
 toise, founded . by the pious regent,) and beseeching 
 her, in the name of their early friendship, to give her 
 the holy habit of religion, made her profession with 
 the deepest sentiments of devotion and humility. She 
 was then carried, by her own order, to a bed of straw 
 strewed with ashes, where, after lingering five or six 
 days, she surrendered her soul into the hands of her 
 Creator, at the age of sixty-five years, on the 1st of 
 December, 1252. 
 
 The news of her death deeply affected Louis. But, 
 though his grief was most sincere, he showed the greatest 
 resignation to the Divine will. His first action on 
 learning his loss was to throw himself on his knees, ex- 
 claiming, " My Lord God, may Thy holy will be done! 
 Thou knowest that I never loved any creature like this 
 
48 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 motlier, wlio was so amiable and worthy of my love. 
 I thank Thee, my God, for having so long preserved 
 her to me, and bow to Thy holy willl'^ Then, rising, 
 he called his chaplain, and recited with him the office 
 of the dead, for the repose of the soul of his dear 
 mother. 
 
 Of all her virtues, the one which distinguished 
 Queen Blanche most, and causes her ever to be cited 
 as the model of mothers, was her deep affection for 
 and enlightened educatio.a of her son. She was well 
 recompensed for this care, by the happiness which he 
 shed over his reign. Her virtue and piety are above 
 all eulogy. Honored be the memory of the mother of 
 St. Louis ! 
 
Margaret. 
 
 49 
 
 Ptarpr^ 
 
 QUEEN OF (ST.) LOUIS IX. 
 A.D. 1216—1295 
 
 HIS queen, whose highest eulogy is 
 that she was the worthy wife of St. 
 Louis, was daughter of Berenger, 
 Gouut of Provence. Although educated 
 at one of the most gay and witty courts 
 of Europe, surrounded by every pleasure 
 the imagination of the Provencal poets 
 could conceive, she kept herself free from 
 all frivolous amusements, to devote her- 
 self to the duties of religion, and to acquire the virtues 
 which best adorn her sex and her rank. It was her 
 reputation for sanctity alone which determined Queen 
 Blanche to select her to be the wife of St. Louis, for, 
 by the bad condition of his finances, the Count of 
 Provence was far from being reckoned a povrerful 
 prince. His joy, therefore, at the honor done to his 
 daughter by this match may easily be conceived, and 
 D 
 
50 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 the marriage was celebrated on the 27th of May, 
 1234. 
 
 The new queen soon showed herself worthy of her 
 exalted station, by her unremitting attention to her be- 
 loved spouse. Keeping herself entirely disengaged from 
 all public display, she gave her undivided care to surround 
 the private life of the king with multiplied proofs of her 
 most tender affection. Louis, in return, showed her the 
 greatest proof of his esteem by imitating her piety and 
 sharing in her religious exercises : so that these two 
 royal persons led the most perfect and innocent life. 
 
 When the king determined to go to succor the 
 Church in the Holy Land, jMargaret did not attempt to 
 divert him from his resolution, but resolved herself to 
 accompany him and share his dangers, as she had done 
 his joys. The king, after some demur, acceded to her 
 desires, and she prepared for the perilous undertaking 
 During the voyage the king consulted her on theii 
 plans, to the great surprise of his lordly companions 
 who were astonished at seeing such deference paid to 
 the advice of so young a princess. Louis replied to 
 them, '' She is my queen and my companion, and merits 
 my greatest esteem and confidence." 
 
 A brilliant victory signalized the debarkation of the 
 Christians under the walls of Damietta. St. Louis dis- 
 played his wonted courage; and the Saracens, defeated 
 on all sides, abandoned the field of battle, after a most 
 
Margaret. 51 
 
 obstinate struggle. Tlie guards of Damietta, seized 
 witli terror at the sight of the heroic de€ds of the Cru- 
 saders, took to flight, and deserted the city, after having 
 first fired the magazines. 
 
 Louis, on hearing this happy news, hastened to 
 return thanks to God, who so visibly protected his 
 arms, and sent troops to extinguish the flames and 
 take possession of the city gates. He then, accom- 
 panied by the queen, the princes his brothers, the 
 King of Cyprus, and the numerous nobles who com- 
 posed his suite, entered the city in procession. The 
 Papal legate, the Patriarch of Jerusalem, several 
 bishops, and a large body of clergy, headed the pro- 
 cession, singing psalms and spiritual canticles. They 
 thus reached the chief mosque, which was immediately 
 reconciled, having been previously consecrated at the 
 expedition of the famous John of Brienne. 
 
 After this first success the army remained for some 
 time in a state of dangerous inactivity ; but the king, 
 having seen this evil, ordered it to depart, which it did, 
 with less order, however, than the success of the enter- 
 prise required. 
 
 A large body remained behind at Damietta with the 
 queen, and the princesses, the wives of the king's 
 brothers. Margaret made herself very active in send- 
 ing succor and provisions to the king, which were con- 
 stantly required by the army. The Christian forces 
 
52 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 were most disadvantageously situated between two arms 
 of the Nile, both of which were extremely difficult to 
 ford. The Saracens harassed them incessantly, and 
 destroyed, by means of their Greek fire, all the works 
 which the Crusaders made to enable them to get out of 
 their difficult position. A passage was at length 
 efi"ected by the aid of a Bedouin Arab, who, for five 
 hundred golden coins, showed them a ford, where all 
 the cavalry could pass without any difficulty. The 
 success of their attempt seemed to give hopes of the 
 final success of the war; but the impetuosity of the 
 Count d'Artois, brother of Louis, caused him to lose a 
 combat, in which he had signalized himself by prodigies 
 of valor. Shut in the Minouri, he perished there with 
 nearly all the vanguard, among whom was the flower 
 of Christian chivalry. 
 
 The valor and prudence of the king, however, having 
 repaired the evil caused by this cruel loss, the field re- 
 mained in the possession of the Crusaders; but they 
 committed another error, by remaining too long on the 
 spot, so that the infection caused by the bodies of the 
 slain spread contagious maladies throughout the entire 
 army. Nothing but thin and attenuated figures were 
 Been ; no sounds but the cries of the dying and infected 
 were heard, mingled with the lamentations of those 
 who had lost relatives or friends. 
 
 Another, and not less terrible, scourge also came, in 
 
Margaret. 53 
 
 addition to pestilence, to spread desolation through the 
 army. The Saracens found means to intercept the 
 communication with Damietta, and to take possession 
 of the vessels which the queen sent to succor the Chris- 
 tians : so that famine came to increase their misery. 
 
 In this extremity, Louis was almost the only one 
 who did not abandon himself to despair. He visited 
 the sick, gave them alms, applied remedies, and adminis- 
 tered consolation, replying to those who sought to pre- 
 vent him by the consideration of the danger he ran, 
 ^' I can do no less for those who have so often exposed 
 themselves for my safety.'^ 
 
 The sad stroke at length was struck. The king was 
 seized with fever. Then, alas ! too late, a retreat was 
 considered necessary. At first it took place in good 
 order, and the knights charged with conducting it dis- 
 played an heroic courage; but at length, overwhelmed 
 by numbers, they all fell into the hands of the enemy. 
 During this terrible event St. Louis showed himself to 
 be the greatest of men and the most holy of kings. 
 The Saracens themselves admired his virtues, and were 
 upon the point of submitting to the dominion of one 
 whom they held prisoner, so superior did they consider 
 him to all other men. 
 
 As soon as Margaret heard of the defeat and captivity 
 of the king, she nearly sank under the fatal intelligence. 
 The imi)Ofesibility of assisting her husband, the fear of 
 
54 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 being soon besieged herself in Damietta and of falling 
 into the power of the cruel Mussulmans, all united to 
 oppress her. All day long her eyes were filled with 
 tears, and frightful dreams disturbed her slumbers by 
 night. She seemed to behold before her the Saracen's 
 sword about to descend on the head of her beloved 
 Imsband. At such times she was seized with convul- 
 sions and uttered piercing shrieks. An aged knight 
 was obliged to watch by her bedside, who, when the 
 queen awoke with fear, crying out, '' The Saracens ! 
 the Saracens !" assuaged her grief, saying, " Fear not, 
 lady ) for I keep watch near you/' 
 
 One day she desired all to leave the room except 
 this ancient warrior, when, throwing herself on her 
 knees before him, she besought him to promise her 
 that, ^^if he saw her about to fall into the hands of the 
 Saracens, he would cut her head off rather than that 
 they sbould get possession of her person. '' " Be as- 
 sured I will do so,'' replied the knight -, ^' for I had 
 already thought of doing so, and would not have 
 allowed you to fall into their infidel hands alive.'' 
 
 The brave knight, however, was not reduced to this 
 dreadful extremity, for the internal dissensions of the 
 Saracens prevented them from retaking Damietta. At 
 this time the queen gave birth to a son, whom she 
 called John Tristan^ or tlie Sad, on account of the 
 sorrowful circumstances attending his birth. Scarcely 
 
Margaret. 55 
 
 had ste been delivered, when she was informed that 
 the Pisans, Genoese, and other soldiers whom the king 
 had left to garrison the town, insisted on evacuating 
 the place. 
 
 The firmness which merited for Margaret the title 
 of great queen particularly showed itself on this trying 
 occasion. She determined on speaking herself to the 
 mutinous soldiers. She summoned the chiefs to her 
 presence, and thus addressed them : — ^' Soldiers, they 
 tell me that you wish to abandon this place : for God's 
 sake I implore you not to do so, for you see it can only 
 be defended by you, and that my lord the king, and all 
 with him, will be lost if you lose this town !'' As their 
 countenances betokened no signs of relenting, she tried 
 at least to gain time, and added, in a voice full of emo- 
 tion, ^^If, however, you wish to leave the town, do so; 
 but at least have pity on this poor weak woman who 
 speaks, and this little new-born babe, and wait till I am 
 able to accompany you.'' Then one of the leaders 
 spoke. '' Madam," said he, " what can we do ? if we 
 stay longer in the town we shall all die of hunger.'* 
 ^^ Is that all ?" replied the queen, quickly. " Oh ! 
 promise me that you will remain while you have provi* 
 sions, and I will retain you all in the name of the king, 
 and at his expense, and will provide you with necessary 
 Bustenance." 
 
 They retired to consult their comrades, and on their 
 
5(5 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 return promised the queen that they would stay in 
 Damietta as long as they were supplied with provisions. 
 Margaret hastened to buy up every possible article of 
 provision in the town and environs, at the expense of 
 three hundred and sixty thousand pounds ; and as long 
 as the king's captivity lasted (a month or more) there 
 was no want of provisions in Damietta. 
 
 The king, after unheard-of sufferings, (his patience 
 under which excitiid the greatest admiration among the 
 Saracens,) made a treaty of peace. He surrendered 
 Damietta as his own ransom, and paid an immense sum 
 for the liberty of the whole of his subjects; for he said 
 ^^he would not move till the last of his soldiers had 
 retired.^' Geoffrey of Sargines was sent to superintend 
 the evacuation of Damietta. He urged the queen to 
 embark immediately, though she had not yet left her 
 chamber. She was carried on a litter to the ship 
 which was to bear her from the scene of so much suf- 
 fering. She reached Acre after six days' sail, accom- 
 panied by the Countess of Poitiers and Anjou, the Count 
 of Poitiers being missing. 
 
 On the king being set at liberty, he, with the Duke 
 of Anjou and the nobles in his suite, repaired to Dami- 
 etta, where he embarked in great distress on account 
 of the absence of the Count of Poitiers. But, shortly 
 after they set sail, the vessel of this prince was seen. 
 ^^ Light up ! Light up I'^ cried the good king ; for it 
 
Margaret. 57 
 
 ti»s night. When he was well assured that it was his 
 biother, and that not a Christian remained at Damictta, 
 lie gave way to his joy at being delivered from the 
 hands of the infidels. 
 
 The queen exerted all her influence to prevail on 
 Louis to return to France ; and he was on the point of 
 giving way to her entreaties, when news arriving of 
 fresh perfidies on the part of the Saracens determined 
 him to remain in Palestine, in order not to abandon 
 the helpless Christians who were still detained there 
 against the faith of nations. Margaret submitted to 
 the will of her husband, and followed him into Pales- 
 tine, where the arms of the Crusaders were more suc- 
 cessful than in Egypt. But the death of Queen Blanche 
 at this time requiring the presence of Louis in his 
 kingdom, he embarked with all his army, after having 
 provided for the safety of the Christians in the Holy 
 Land by leaving the strongholds well fortified. 
 
 The vessel containing the king and his family ran 
 against a sand-bank near the island of Cyprus, and the 
 shock was so violent that all on board thought their 
 last hour had arrived. The weeping nurses ran to the 
 queen to ask if they should awake the royal babes, who 
 were sleeping. ^' You must neither wake nor disturb 
 them,^^ said the queen, in tears, ^^ but let their innocent 
 souls go to God as they sleep. ^' A touching and sublime 
 answer, in which the strongest maternal love was sweetly 
 
58 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 blended with the most consoling faith. By the prayers, 
 ho^^ever, of the good king, the vessel righted^ and pur- 
 sued its course as if nothing had happened. 
 
 On her return to France, Margaret employed her 
 whole time in works of charity, occasionally aiding the 
 king with her advice, though she took no part in the 
 government. To her is attributed the important ser- 
 vice of dissuading her husband from abdicating the 
 throne at a time when he seriously entertained this 
 project. 
 
 It is not our province to follow King Louis in his 
 second Crusade, which he undertook in 1270, and which 
 terminated in his death by fever. He left Margaret at 
 the castle of Yincennes, near Paris. 
 
 On the death of St. Louis, Margaret stayed some 
 years at the court of her son, Philip the Third, and 
 then retired from the world and entered, with her 
 daughter Blanche, the Convent of St. Clare, which 
 she had founded at St. Marcel. Here she lived twenty 
 years in the exercise of works of piety, and died in 
 1295, in the reign of her grandson, Philip the Fair. 
 
 " She was,'' writes a celebrated historian, ^^ one of 
 the most beautiful women of her age ; but more wise 
 than beautiful ; and had so great a reputation for pru- 
 dence and justice that emperors, kings, and pnnces 
 often applied to her to settle their differences with i)?^ir 
 Tassals/' 
 
Jane op Eveeux. 
 
 59 
 
 Jant of ^mm%, 
 
 THIRD QUEEN OF CHARLES THE HANDSOME. 
 A.D. 1360. 
 
 ANE OF EVEEUX was tlie daughter 
 of Louis, Count of Evreux, and of Mar- 
 garet of Artois. She was married to 
 Charles the Handsome, and crowned at 
 Paris, with great magnificence, on Whit- 
 Sunday, in the year 1826. The king 
 died two years afterward, leaving Jane 
 with child, which being a daughter, Philip 
 de Yalois, cousin-german of the three last sovereigns, 
 was proclaimed king. Jane remained faithful in her 
 widowhood, spending it in retreat. She lived during 
 the reigns of three monarchs, Philip YL, John, and 
 Charles the Wise. She devoted her time and means 
 to good works, — nearly rebuilt the Convent of the Car- 
 thusians, at Paris, and made rich presents to many 
 other convents. Her particular delight was to prepare 
 and administer with her own hands simple medicines 
 
GO Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 for sick religious, for whom slie was tlie first to erect 
 distinct infirmaries with separate cells, in the convent 
 gardens. 
 
 She married her daughter Blanche to the second son 
 of Philip de Valois. At her death, her body was car- 
 ried to St. Antony's Abbey, and thence to Notre Dame, 
 where it lay in state until it was consigned with due 
 honors (although the pious queen had expressly de- 
 sired that no pomp should be displayed at her fune- 
 ral) to the last resting-place of the kings of France in 
 the abbey church of St. Denis. This queen was much 
 regretted for her virtues and the prudent and wise 
 spirit of conciliation which she showed on several occa- 
 sions during the reigns of the succeeding kings. 
 
Isabella. 
 
 61 
 
 saMa, 
 
 PRINCESS OF EKANCE. 
 A.D. 1225—1269. 
 
 T would seem that all who were con- 
 nected with the good King Louis shared 
 in his purity of soul and fervent piety. 
 Another princess of this royal family oiFers 
 us an admirable model of Christian virtue. 
 Isabella^ daughter of Louis YIII. and 
 Blanche of Castilie, (and, therefore, sister 
 of St. Louis,) was born in 1225. She had 
 scarce completed her twenty-first month when the king, 
 her father, died. But Heaven compensated her for this 
 loss by bestowing on her the most tender and best of 
 Qiothers. For Blanche, despite the cares of a tempest- 
 uous regency, and her solicitude for her other children, 
 bestowed the greatest attention on the education of her 
 daughter. From her infancy she evinced a strong dis- 
 position to piety, and an aversion to the games and 
 amusements of children. As she grew up she showed 
 
62 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 a great taste for the sciences^ and cultivated them with 
 much success. It is even said that she not unfre- 
 quently corrected the, Latin theses of the court chap- 
 lains, her knowledge of that language being extra- 
 ordinary. 
 
 At the age of thirteen Isabella took the firm reso- 
 lution of consecrating herself entirely to God. From 
 this moment she studiously avoided all the vain amuse- 
 ments of the court, showed on every occasion her ^m- 
 plete contempt for pomp and ceremony, and it was only 
 at the earnest solicitation of her mother that she 
 dressed in a style becoming her high rank. 
 
 The possession of such virtues, with great personal 
 attractions, tended to fix upon the young princess the 
 attention of all the European courts. Several powerful 
 princes vied with each other to obtain her hand ; but, 
 in spite of the pressing solicitations of her mother, of 
 the king her brother, and even of Pope Innocent IV., 
 who wished her to choose the eldest son of the Em- 
 peror Frederick II., she formally refused every offer of 
 marriage. ^^ Devoted to God from my birth,'' she 
 wrote to the holy Pontiff, " I prefer to be among the 
 lowliest of His handmaids, rather than to ascend the 
 first throne of the universe." 
 
 St. Louis admired the motives which dictated this re- 
 fusal, and assured her that her holy vocation should not 
 be resisted ; and the Pope replied to her in favorable 
 
Isabella. 63 
 
 terms Thus, free from all worldly connections, she 
 gave herself up entirely to her inclination for piousj 
 exercises, and drew out for herself a plan of life which 
 sl^e followed till death. Every thing unconnected with 
 religion became an object of perfect indifference to 
 her, and her only recreation she found in the conver- 
 sation of persons of piety. The interior arrangements 
 of her palace resembled a convent rather than a court. 
 Obliged by her rank to have waiting-women, she edified 
 them by her discourse and exemplary conduct, without 
 ever causing them to feel their dependence, or showing 
 her superiority by her manner of giving her com- 
 mands. Detesting all flattery and dissimulation, she 
 regulated her conduct by the precepts of the Church, 
 and carefully shunned any thing which was in the least 
 calculated to excite her self-love. 
 
 Charity was one of her principal virtues. The best 
 dishes served at her table she put aside for the poor, 
 res-rving for herself the simplest and commonest 
 nourishment. Her zeal for the poor, in whom she 
 saw the suffering members of Jesus Christ, knew no 
 bounds One day her brother L^mis, seeing her 
 engaged in knitting an article of apparel for the head, 
 asked her to give it to him as a pledge of her affection, 
 and declared his desire to keep it for her sake. " No, 
 brother/^ said she ; '^ this being the first work of the 
 
64 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 kind 1 liave made, I destine it for our Lord; for^ you 
 know, the first-fruits belong to Him." 
 
 As soon as the work was completed, she sent it to a 
 poor sick woman whom she provided for. But two 
 ladies of the court went to its happy recipient, and 
 ofi"ering her a large price for it, it was after their death 
 placed in the church of the nuns of St. Anthony. 
 
 A grievous malady having attacked the princess, she 
 was miraculously cured of it, and took this occasion to 
 redouble her austerities and her alms. Severe to her- 
 self, as she was indulgent to others, the tenderness of 
 her conscience drove her to frequent the sacrament of 
 penance very often, in order to accuse herself of the 
 most trivial faults ; and nothing could exceed her great 
 reverence for the holy ministers of the altar. 
 
 She loved to visit the abodes of the poor, and dis- 
 cover some case of true misery which suffered in con- 
 cealment. She even served the poor with her royal 
 hands; and she never ceased her ministrations to the 
 sick until they were quite healed. 
 
 After the departure of St. Louis for the Holy Land, 
 Isabella retired to Melun with the queen, whom she 
 greatly consoled by her presence. They both prayed 
 constantly and fervently for the success of the royal 
 enterprise. The gentle reader will imagine the sorrow 
 which they experienced in hearing of the defeat of 
 his army, his captivity, and the continual dangers to 
 
Isabella. 65 
 
 which he was exposed. Queen Blanche could not long 
 bear the weight of these afflictions; she expired in the 
 arms of her daughter, who spent two years in mourn- 
 ing and penance, deriving no consolation but from the 
 holy exercises of prayer and meditation. 
 
 The ransom of the king, and his return, caused the 
 princess to experience the most lively joy, and her 
 lamentations were changed into hymns of thanksgiving 
 to the Eternal goodness. At this period she resolved 
 to put into execution a design she had long enter- 
 tained, — after having well assured herself of the strength 
 of her vocation, — of founding a convent. She hastened 
 to throw herself at the king^s feet, and- beg of him 
 permission and the means to establish a religious house 
 in which she might pass the remainder of her days. 
 St. Louis, surprised at such a demand, embraced his 
 sister, and answered her request only by an affection- 
 ate and tender silence. Necessary funds were at once 
 accorded to the princess from the royal treasury, for 
 she had long exhausted her own means by her number- 
 less charities. 
 
 The spot chosen by the princess for her convent was 
 a beautiful plain near the wood of Rouvret, (now tha: 
 of Boulogne,) then situated some miles from Piris. 
 The order, which was afterward approved by Pope 
 Urban IV., was called by her Daughters of Christ^'an 
 Humanity^ since known by the name of Longchamps» 
 E 
 
66 Queens and Princesses or France. 
 
 Isabella retired to this holy retreat, in which she 
 passed eight years in the most fervent exercise of her 
 religious duties. Louis frequently went to see her, 
 and showered his favors upon the community, while 
 his sister edified by her virtues the holy women she 
 had chosen for her companions. 
 
 The severe mortifications, howev^er, which she im- 
 posed upon herself, destroyed a constitution already 
 much weakened by natural causes. This was repre- 
 sented to her, and she was begged to desist, but in vain. 
 At length a violent fever confined her to her cell, in 
 the month of February, 1269. Her first care was to 
 receive the sacraments of the Church, after which her 
 whole mind was bent upon the happy moment when 
 she would be united to her Maker. ^^ Why should 
 you be afflicted at the thought of my death,^^ said she 
 to one of the nuns, ^'when it gives me such joy?'' 
 
 She calmly expired, edifying all her companions in 
 her death, as in her life. Leo X. granted to the reli- 
 gious of Longchamps the privilege of celebrating the 
 feast of the blessed Isabella, on the 31st of x\ugust; and 
 Urban YIII. that of exposing her relics to public 
 veneration. 
 
Jane of Valois. 
 
 67 
 
 $t Jan^ ijf f aids, 
 
 QUEEN OF LOUIS XII. 
 A.D. 1464—1504. 
 
 HIS princess, although daughter, sis- 
 ter, and wife of kings, enjoyed little 
 of the honors attached to her con- 
 ion. Her life was one continued series 
 trials and afflictions, the only solace for 
 ich she found in religion. 
 Her misfortunes began with her entry 
 into life, for her father, Louis XI., who 
 earnestly desired a son to succeed him, did not conceal 
 his extreme displeasure at her birth ; and the courtiers 
 imitated their royal master in their dislike to the little 
 princess. Again, another cause for the world's aversion 
 was the fact of the child's deformity, so that they who 
 had no knowledge of the noble qualities of her soul, 
 found in her outward appearance an object of ridicule. 
 But Jane was amply compensated for her natural 
 defects by the abundant gifts of grace which the 
 
68 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 Almighty showered down upon her. This tended to 
 draw her affections toward the munificent Author of 
 her existence. Her early inclinations were all centred 
 in works of piety. Love of prayer, fervor in her re- 
 ligious exercises, modesty, docility, a sweetness of dis- 
 position which charmed every one who approached her, 
 a solid and tender devotion, extraordinary firmness of 
 character, — such were the characteristics of her early 
 youth, which strengthened with her advancing years. 
 
 The king, her father, attempted in vain to turn her 
 inclinations to the world. ^^He cannot prevent me 
 from devoting myself to piety," said she one day to 
 her governess, Madame de Riviere, ^^ for, great king as 
 he is, he has God for his master." 
 
 Her desire to lead a hidden life increased as she 
 grew older. Her only pleasure was to converse with 
 pious persons, on the happiness of those whom God 
 called to serve Him in solitude, and whom He delivered 
 from the cares and solicitudes of the world. But she 
 was sacrificed to her father's worldly views. He 
 married her, against her wish, to Louis, Duke of 
 Orleans, her cousin, who, unfortunately, entertained an 
 aversion to his wife on account of her deformity. 
 
 The king's death involved the kingdom in great 
 troubles. The Duke of Orleans, displeased at being 
 excluded from the guardianship of the young king, 
 Charles VIIL, his brother-in-law, conspired with the 
 
Jane of Valois. 69 
 
 Duke of Brittany and other nobles against him He 
 was, however, taken prisoner at the battle of St. Aubin, 
 and owed his life solely to the entreaties of Jane, whc, 
 forgetting his bad conduct toward her, threw herself 
 at her brother's feet and begged for pardon, declaring 
 she would share whatever punishment he received. 
 The king, affected to tears by so noble a generosity, 
 restored the duke to liberty, which he did not use with 
 discretion ; for, rebelling again, he was recaptured, and 
 confined* in the castle of Bourges. His duchess, not 
 succeeding a second time in obtaining his pardon, 
 wished to share his captivity; but this she could not 
 get the king to consent to : so she sold her most pre- 
 cious jewels to obtain some comforts for him while in 
 prison. 
 
 After having suffered many indignities and humilia- 
 tions from the court on account of her perseverance, 
 she at length prevailed upon the king to exercise his 
 royal clemency. The Duke of Orleans was restored to 
 liberty ; but forgetting her to whom he owed his libe- 
 ration, he showed so little gratitude for her exertions 
 and faithful love, that when he became king (by the 
 death of Charles VIII., to whom he was heir) he caused 
 his marriage with Jane of Valois to be set aside. Jane 
 received this fresh insult without emotion. ^^ Thanks 
 be to God,^' said she, " I am too happy to suffer this 
 affront for love of Him. His adorable providence has 
 
70 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 wished to detach me from the world in a manner in- 
 comprehensible to human wisdom; my only thoughts 
 henceforward shall be to serve Him with more fidelity 
 than ever/^ 
 
 The queen, after having bid an eternal adieu to the 
 court, chose the city of Bourges for the place of her 
 retrea^t, where she afterward realized one of the most 
 cherished desires of her youth, — the foundation of a 
 convent under the patronage of the most holy Mother 
 of God. Some unforeseen obstacles delayed the neces- 
 sary confirmation of the order, but at length the new 
 establishment of the Annunciation was approved of by 
 the Holy Father of the Faithful, on the 14th of Febru- 
 ary, 1501. The holy queen received the news with 
 the greatest joy, as it arrived on the day on which she 
 had to thank God for the miraculous cure of one of the 
 nuns. 
 
 On the 20th of October, 1502, the queen received 
 five of her daughters; she herself cutting their hair, 
 clothing them, placing the white veil on their heads, 
 and offering them to our Blessed Lady as the first-fruits 
 of her new order. 
 
 The next year she took the vows of poverty, chastity, 
 obedience, and enclosure, giving an example to all the 
 pious sisterhood of the most perfect submission to the 
 rules she had given them. From this memorable day 
 the ardor of her desires, the extraordinary fervor of 
 
Jane of Valois. 71 
 
 her devotions, and the privations wliicli she imposed 
 upon herself in the spirit of mortification and self- 
 denial, visibly weakened her health. But far from 
 causing her any alarm, it only heightened the joy she 
 experienced at the thought of the approach of the 
 happy moment when she should quit this mortal dwell- 
 ing, and pass from this valley of tears. 
 
 Her state becoming daily worse, she discoursed with 
 her religious for the last time with maternal affection ; 
 then, after having heard Mass, not without much 
 pain, she was obliged to retire to her cell, which she 
 never again quitted. Her first care was to prepare 
 herself for the happy passage into eternity, and, to 
 strengthen herself, she demanded the Holy Viaticum, 
 which she received with transports of joy, and a sweet 
 foretaste of celestial beatitude. 
 
 As soon as the ^' passing bell" had warned the city 
 that the queen was dying, the whole of the inhabitants 
 felt the greatest consternation. They crowded the 
 churches to implore the Divine mercy to spare her, and 
 not take her from them. Nothing was heard but 
 moaning. "Alas!'^ cried they, "Queen Jane, our dear 
 saintly duchess, is dying!" 
 
 The princess, perceiving her confessor plunged in a 
 state of deep despondency, said to him, '^ My father, 
 your looks cause me great uneasiness : I pray you go 
 and take some repose : should my illness increase, I 
 
72 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 rill not fail to send for you/^ Then addressing the 
 sister who was nursing her, she added, " Daughter, 
 turn me on the other side ; the light fatigues me ; put 
 out the lights, close the curtains of my bed, and let me 
 sleep in peace/^ 
 
 The siister did as she was bid, and placed herself in 
 such a position as to be able to watch her royal patient, 
 in case of her suddenly requiring her assistance. She 
 thus watched for nearly an hour, when she perceiyed a 
 bright and soft light fluttering over the head of the 
 queen. Surprised at this sudden sight, she fancied 
 some one had entered the room with a candle; she 
 looked around and listened, but neither saw nor heard 
 any one. She returned to the bed, and saw the same 
 light there, and distinctly noticed it descend gradually 
 toward the heart of her mistress, when it grew fainter 
 and then expired. The nurse, seized with a secret 
 terror, approached the queen, felt first her pulse, then 
 her heart; but perceiving no motion, she cried out, 
 and called the religious to the room, who, entering 
 terrified, found theii royal foundress dead. She had 
 expired the moment the heavenly light had disappeared 
 Iler obsequies were performed in a manner becoming 
 her royal state, and were signalized by the miraculous 
 cure of an old priest, who for many years had been 
 entirely deprived of the use of his limbs. This pro- 
 digy was followed by many others, which were authentic- 
 
Jane of Yalots. 73 
 
 ally verified as having taken place at her tomb. She 
 was upon this canonized by Pope Clement XII., in 
 173B, and in 1775 Pius VI. approved of her office 
 being recited throughout France. 
 
 Born in the m.idst of splendors, which were ever a 
 source of grief and trouble to her, she turned her ey^s 
 heavenward, and received with pleasure the crosses it 
 pleased her good and loving God to send her; and He 
 repaid her generously by giving her a crown of eternal 
 glory, verifying the divine words, " Blessed are they 
 
 WHO WEEP, FOR THEY SHALL BE COMFORTED/^ 
 
Queens and Princeesses of France 
 
 pari) Stuart of ^c^otlaiul, 
 
 's 
 
 QUEEN-DAUPHINESS, QUEEN, AND QUEEN-DOWAGER. 
 A.D. 1542—1587. 
 
 short a period of the life of this un- 
 fortunate queen was spent in the fair 
 land of France, that it has been little 
 dwelt on bj her biographers, with the 
 exception of the last and most pains- 
 taking, the accomplished historian of the 
 queens of England and Scotland, to whom 
 I am indebted for much of the subse- 
 quent details. 
 
 On the 8th of December, 1542, the feast of Our 
 Lady's Conception, in the palace of Linlithgow, Mary 
 of Lorraine, queen of James Y. of Scotland, gave birth 
 to a female child, who was baptized the following month 
 in her mother's name, and (her father dying a week 
 after her birth) crowned on Sunday, the 9th of Septem- 
 Der, 1543, at Stirling, by Cardinal Beaton. 
 
 The tii#' hand of the infant princess became an 
 
Mary Stuart of Scotland 75 
 
 object of contest from her birth, the Earl of Arran 
 (for his son Lord Hamilton) claiming it the very day 
 the nobles assembled to do homage to the unconscious 
 baby as Queen of Scotland and the Isles. The next 
 aspirant for her alliance was Henry YIII., (for his in- 
 fant son Edward,) and an arrangement in favor of this 
 prince was agreed to. This alliance, however, was not 
 regarded favorably either by the queen-mother or the 
 Scottish nobles, and plots and broils surrounded poor 
 Mary in her very infancy; and she was obliged to be 
 taken to Stirling Castle for safety, and guarded, in that 
 almost impregnable eyrie, against the threatened vio- 
 lence of Henry VIII. Thus were the first and last 
 misfortunes of Mary caused by this brutal tyrant and 
 his cruel and shameless daughter. 
 
 Mary's education commenced in her fifth year, and 
 was conducted by the queen-mother herself. Four 
 noble playmates and classmates were assigned her, each 
 bearing her own name : — Mary Beaton, Mary Seaton, 
 Mary Livingstone, and Mary Fleming. ^Vith. them 
 she pursued her studies, quietly and steadily, in the 
 cloister-shades of Inchmahone, on the Lake of Menteith. 
 Her appearance during her early youth is thus de- 
 scribed by a modern French biographer: — '' Her shin- 
 ing hair, which in childhood was of bright golden 
 yellow, was bound with a rose-colored satin snood ; 
 and she wore a tartan scarf, over black silk, fastened 
 
76 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 with a gold agrafe, engraved with the united arms of 
 Scotland and Lorraine. The little queen, in this pic- 
 turesque attire, was the delight of every eye, when she 
 was seen pursuing her gay sports with her juvenile 
 court on the lake-shore. She possessed a natural charm 
 of manner that won all hearts ) she was adored by her 
 governors, masters, officers, and ladies, and every one 
 w^ho by chance was brought in contact with her, from 
 the gentry and burgesses down to the simple fishers 
 and honest mountaineers.^^ 
 
 When six years old, Mary was affianced to Francis, 
 Pauphin of France, son of Henry II., and was con- 
 veyed to France on the 7th of August, 1548, and received 
 at the chateau of St. Germain. Here she delighted 
 every one with her smiles and winning ways, making 
 even the haughty Catharine de Medici say, ^' Our little 
 Scotch queen has but to smile to turn every French 
 head;^' adding, ^' that she was so wise and good for - 
 child of her tender age that they saw nothing they 
 could wish altered.^' 
 
 At the French court her education was resumed, an 
 she became proficient in every grace and accf^mplish- 
 nient. ^' She acquired (^besides the English and French 
 languages) an early proficiency in Latin and Italian ; 
 she made some progress in Greek, and delighted in 
 the royal sciences of geography and history- she had a 
 passion for poetry and music, and she excelled in 
 
Mary Stuart of Scotland. 77 
 
 needle ;vork, — that feminine acquirement wliich after- 
 ward proved so great a solace to her in the house of 
 bondage/' 
 
 M^ry was at Paris on New- Year's Day, 1554, when 
 she astonished the court of France and all the foreign 
 ambassadors by the ease and grace with which she re- 
 cited to the king an oration in Latin, of her own com- 
 position, in the style of Cicero, setting forth, in oppo- 
 sition to the general opinion to the contrary, the 
 capacity of females for the highest mental acquire- 
 ments, such as literature and the fine arts, — a proposi- 
 tion that no one who heard and saw the fair and learned 
 young queen that day felt disposed to deny. 
 
 At length, in the tenth year of her residence in 
 France, after a solemn betrothal at the hands of the 
 Cardinal de Lorraine on the 19th of April, 1558, 
 Mary was married to the Dauphin of France on the 
 following Sunday, by her uncle, the Cardinal de Bour- 
 bon, in the sight of the assembled Parisians, on an 
 open gallery erected in front of Notre Dame. At this 
 royal function, one of the most magnificent marriages 
 on record, assisted four cardinals, eighteen bishops and 
 mitred abbots, and an innumerable cortege of nobles 
 and knights. Mary, however, was the object on which 
 the general attention was absorbed. " She was dressed,'' 
 writes the official chronicler of the event, ^^ in a robe 
 whiter than the lily, but so glorious in its fashion and 
 
78 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 decorations that it would be difficult, nay, impossible, 
 for any pen to do justice to its details. Her regal 
 n) an tie and train were of a bluish- gray cut velvet, richly 
 embroidered with white silk and pearls. It was of a 
 marvellous length, full six toises, covered with precious 
 stones, and was supported by noble demoiselles.^' The 
 young queen-dauphiness's crown, made expressly for 
 the occasion, was composed of the j&nest gold, and was 
 of the most exquisite workmar.ship, set with diamonds, 
 pearls, rubies, and emeralds of immeasurable worth, 
 having in the centre a pendent carbuncle, the value of 
 which was computed at five hundred thousand crowns. 
 About her neck hung a matchless jewel, suspended by 
 chains of precious stones, which, from its description, 
 must have been no other than that well known in 
 Scottish records by the familiar name of the Great 
 Harry. After the marriage the royal party entered 
 the cathedral, and heard mass celebrated by the Arch- 
 bishop of Paris. On returning to the palace, a mag- 
 nificent banquet was served, followed by a grand ball, 
 at which the young queen-dauphiness displayed that 
 grace and activity in the dances of the period, in which 
 she was excelled by no lady of her time. Tournaments, 
 fetes, and masques, in hunor of this auspicious event, 
 were celebrated in Paris during the three successive 
 days. 
 
 The first circumstance which occurred to mar tiie 
 
Mary Stuart of Scotland. 79^ 
 
 tranquillity of her young wedded life was tlie alarming 
 aspect of affairs in her realm of Scotland. There the 
 churches and monasteries had been attacked, devastated, 
 and given up to plunder by the pretended Reformers. 
 Her royal palace at Scone had been burned to the 
 ground; and the troubles and personal perils of her 
 mother, the queen-regent, were deeply felt by the 
 attached daughter. About this period, also, her hus- 
 band was attacked by a sickness, during which she 
 attended him with most affectionate care. And, indeed, 
 her amiable deportment to this prince was the subject 
 of general admiration, considering his great personal 
 infirmity. If she perceived this, however, she allowed 
 no one else to see it, but treated him, both in public 
 and private, with the greatest deference. She re- 
 quested his presence at all her councils on the affairs 
 of her realm, and listened with marked attention to his 
 opinion when he spoke. 
 
 ^^Senry II. expiring in consequence of a wound acci- 
 dentally inflicted by the Count de Montgomery, (at a 
 tournament held to celebrate the nuptials of Madame 
 Elizabeth of France and Philip II. of Spain,) the con- 
 sort of Mary Stuart was immediately greeted by the 
 title of Francis II., and she herself received all the 
 tokens of ceremonial respect due to a queen of France. 
 Mary retired to St. Germain-en-Laye till after the 
 funeral of her father-in-law, which was solemnized at 
 
80 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 St. Denis. At tliis period of lier life, Mary was 
 attacked by so serious a sickness as to give some rca^'^on 
 to imagine that she was sinking into an early grave. 
 But such was not to be. God, in His divine providence, 
 had reserved her to be more fully tested by sufferings 
 in this world before He called her to a heavenly crown. 
 The bad accounts she continued to receive from her 
 mother about the state of her Scotch dominions also 
 greatly aggravated her illness. 
 
 On the 18th of September she accompanied her hus- 
 band to the Cathedral of liheims, where he was solemnly 
 crowned. Out of respect for his father's memory, 
 Francis had issued orders 'Hhat no lady^ save the 
 Queen of Scotland, his spouse, should presume to 
 appear in gold, jewels, or embroidery, or wear any 
 other dress than black velvet or black silk, made very 
 plainly.^' Mary Stuart alone wore her jewels, and was 
 arrayed in glorious apparel on that day, amidst the 
 sable train, — 
 
 *Tair as a star when only one 
 Is shining in the sky." 
 
 She was not included in the coronation-rite, because, 
 as a queen-regnant, it would have bten beneath her 
 dignity to submit to the forms prescribed for a queen- 
 consort of France. 
 
 Shortly after this, Mary separated from the friend 
 and companion of her childhood, Elizabeth, affianced 
 
Mary Stuart of Scotland. 81 
 
 to Pliilip II. of Spain. After escorting her as far as 
 PoitierS; the king and his consort proceeded to the 
 chateau of Blois, on the Loire, where both enjoyed 
 better health than at any other place. They were only 
 too happy to escape from the cares and turmoils of 
 state affairs; and, having consigned the burden of these 
 to what they fondly considered wiser, because more 
 experienced, heads than their own, they gave them- 
 selves up to occupations more suitable to their incli- 
 nations and better adapted to their age. 
 
 A few days after Mary completed her seventeenth 
 year, a serious accident happened to her while hunting 
 and pursuing the game with too great eagerness. She 
 recovered in a few days, and wisely resolved not to 
 enjoy so dangerous a sport again,— -^a resolution she did 
 not, however, keep. 
 
 Any account of the brief and boisterous reign of 
 Francis II. will not be expected in this bri-ef memoir 
 of his queen ; but certainly it was not the happiest time 
 of her sojourn in France, and her mind was at times 
 sorely crossed with the affairs of her own realm. In 
 these she acted, of course, under the direction of her 
 advisers and uncles of Lorraine, in a bold and spirited 
 manner, especially in refusing to ratify the treaty of 
 Edinburgh, which would have given to Elizabeth, as 
 her crafty advisers remarked, '^ the sovereignty of that 
 
82 Queens and Princesses or France. 
 
 realm whicli her warlike ancestors had vainly endea- 
 vored to win by the sword.'^ 
 
 Francis II., ever weak and sickly, was taken seriously 
 ill on the 15th of November, 1560, and most sedulously 
 attended and watched over by his affectionate consort, 
 until the termination of his earthly sufferings. Aware 
 that the hand of death was upon him, the king ap- 
 peared to reget nothing but his separation from her, 
 who was perhaps the only true mourner among those 
 by whom he was surrounded. She had been the angel 
 of his life; and with grateful fondness he lifted up his 
 dying voice to bless her and to bear testimony to her 
 virtues and her devoted love to him. He died on the 
 5th of December, being sixteen years, ten months, and 
 fifteen days old; his consort, a few days later, com- 
 pleted her eighteenth year. According to the ancient 
 custom of the queens of France, Mary assumed the 
 peculiar widow's costume, — a complete suit of white : 
 hence they were called, during the period of their 
 widowhood, reines hlanches^ or white queens. The 
 delicate beauty of Mary Stuart was reputed to be more 
 than usually exquisite in these white robes. 
 
 Scarce were the first few weeks of Mary's widowhood 
 expired, v/hen her hand was sought first by the Prince 
 of Spain, then for the Archduke of Austria, and also 
 for the Farl of Arran. It is also ascertained that during 
 this period she received a stolen visit from her youth- 
 
Mary Stuart of Scotland. 83 
 
 ful con sin, the Lord Darnley, for whom she reserved 
 herself, to the prejudice of her regal lovers; for 
 every royal bachelor or widower in Christendom entered 
 the lists of diplomatic intrigue in hopes of winning 
 Mary Stuart. 
 
 Of course, it was natural for her Scotch subjects to 
 expect that, now Mary was no longer bound to France 
 by the title of queen-regnant, she should change her 
 adopted and return to her native country. For this 
 purpose deputations came from all parties to invite her 
 back. In the mean time Mary proceeded to visit her 
 mother's relations in Lorraine, where she was received 
 with great state. A grand triumph was made in honor 
 of her entrance into Nancy. Here she fell sick of a 
 tertian ague, which prevented her being present at the 
 coronation of her brother, Charles IX. While in Lor- 
 raine, Mary was much struck at the sight of the in- 
 dustry of the peasants in straw-hat making, and induced 
 a number of them to emigrate and introduce their art 
 into Scotland, whence her son, James I., transplanted 
 them to Luton, in Bedfordshire. 
 
 With difficulty Mary was persuaded to revisit Paris, 
 where she was received with great pomp and joy by the 
 people, by whom she was greatly beloved and reverenced. 
 In the month of July, Mary bade adieu to Paris for- 
 ever, followed by the passionate regrets of all classes 
 of the people. While the queen-regent and her own 
 
84 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 subjects liad been ardently desiring her return to Scot- 
 land, Elizabeth of England had been plotting to prevent 
 it, and, being unsuccessful, refused her ^^ a safe passage 
 to her own realm/' One of Elizabeth's great objec- 
 tions to her returning home was said to be her jealousy 
 of the courtship of her own matrimonial suitor, Eric, 
 King of Sweden, to the royal widow; for to her he 
 had transferred his addresses. 
 
 Mary departed from St. Germain-en-Laye on the 25th 
 of July, 1561, attended by a numerous and brilliant 
 retinue of nobles and princes, and the most illustrious 
 persons in France. Sobs choked her voice when she 
 arrived at Calais, the place of embarkation, and saw 
 the vessels that were destined to convey her from the 
 country where she had been cherished and protected as 
 a child, honored as a queen, and almost adored as a 
 woman. When the sails were set and her galley began 
 to get out to sea, Mary's tears flowed without inter- 
 mission. Leaning both her arms on the gallery of the 
 vessel, she turned her eyes on the shore she was leav- 
 ing, with longing, lingering looks, crying, at every stroke 
 of the oars, '^ Adieu, France, adieu !" in the words of 
 her well-known lay on this affecting occasion : — 
 
 "Adieu, plaisant pays de France! 
 ma patrie, 
 La plus ch^rie, 
 Qui a nourri ma jeune enfance; — 
 
Mary Stuart of Scotland. 85 
 
 Adieu, France ! adieu, mes beaux jours! 
 La nef qui dejoint nos amours 
 N'a eu de moi que la moiti^ ; 
 Une part te reste, elle est tiennej 
 
 Je la fi4 
 
 A ton amiti6, 
 Pour que de I'autre il te souvienne." 
 
 Whicli has been thus translated : — 
 
 **Thou pleasant land of France, farewell! 
 Gherish'd with love 
 Airlands above, 
 Nurse of my infancy, farewell ! 
 Dear France, and happier days, adieu! 
 The sail that wafts me far from you 
 Bears but my half away : the rest 
 
 Thine own, and thine alone, shall be : 
 This of its faith the pledge and test, — 
 To love and to remember thee." 
 
 And thus she remained, for the next five hours after 
 her embarkation, motionless as a statue, and deaf to all 
 the attempts of her friends to console her. When dark- 
 ness approached, she was entreated to descend into the 
 state cabin, which had been prepared for her accommo- 
 dation, and partake of supper; but her heart was too 
 full of grief to permit her to taste food. She remained 
 pensive and oppressed with melancholy forebodings 
 during the whole of the voyage. Escaping the ships 
 sent out by Elizabeth to capture her, favored by " a pro- 
 
86 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 vidential fog/' as the queen called it, slie reached the 
 port of Leith on the 20th of August, at six o'clock 
 in the morning. 
 
 Having thus safely landed the queen-dowager of 
 France in her own realm of Scotland, we will take but 
 a hasty glance at her troubled reign and her subsequent 
 melancholy fate, ^^as familiar as household words" in 
 the mouths of every English student. 
 
 Great, indeed, must have been the change to Mary in 
 passing from the bright and joyous life of the court of 
 France to the solemn and gloomy one of Scotland. On 
 entering her kingdom, she found a disunited and dis- 
 loyal nobility, and a people distracted by changes and 
 innovations in religion brought forward and propagated 
 by her bitter and indecorous enemy, Knox, who has 
 well merited the title of " ruffian of the Reformation." 
 Mary's presence, however, during the tour she made 
 through a great portion of her kingdom, was sufficient 
 to gain all but the most obdurate hearts. 
 
 Elizabeth kept up a pretended show of kindness and 
 affection for Mary; while Mary, on her part, desirous to 
 forget and forgive the injuries she had received from 
 her, consulted her on her marriage. Elizabeth replied 
 by recommending a course which no one could think her 
 sincere in advising. In the mean time, her subjects 
 pressing her to marry, she chose the son of Margaret, 
 Lady Lennox, whose claim to the English throne wa^ 
 
Mary Stuart of Scotland. 87 
 
 second only to Mary's. Being cousins, it was necessary 
 to apply to the Pope for a dispensation to enable them 
 to marry. This being obtained, she married Henry, 
 Lord Darn ley, in the chapel of Holy rood Palace, on 
 July 9, 1565. The chief, and perhaps only, merits in 
 Darnley were his personal beauty and elegant manners. 
 He was weak-minded, and yet self-conceited and vain, 
 and incapable of returning the love of his queen. Some 
 of the nobles who had been adverse to this marriage 
 rose in rebellion against Mary; but the country generally 
 took her side, and she defeated the rebels. The dis- 
 affected nobles, however, pursued her with insult and 
 indignity, even to the private arrangements of her house- 
 hold. In this was one Rizzio, an Italian, whom the 
 queen had appointed her French secretary. Jealous of 
 the influence of this foreigner, some nobles, headed by 
 Darnley himself, rushed into Mary's room, while seated 
 with some friends at supper, and stabbed the secretary 
 in the queen's presence, whom they then imprisoned in 
 the castle. She afterward was reconciled to Darnley, 
 and they escaped together to Edinburgh Castle, where 
 Mary soon after gave birth to her son. In this child 
 were eventually accomplished all her fondest wishes, for 
 he inherited both the English and Scotch crowns. 
 
 A conspiracy was formed by several of the leading 
 men of the court to murder Darnley, whose haughty 
 and contemptuous behavior to themselves, and shame- 
 
?8 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 f il neglect of his young and beautiful queen, gave them 
 the pretext for their evil design. Besides these, furtive 
 designs of seizing and imprisoning Mary, and reigning 
 iu favor of his son, were ascribed to him. The king's 
 bouse was undermined with gunpowder, and set fire to 
 at midnight, blowing the house and its occupants to 
 atoms. This cruel murder produced vast sensation all 
 over Scotland. Everybody was on the alert to discover 
 the authors of the crime. Eewards were offered by the 
 queen, and proclamations were made. Eumors began 
 to circulate that Both well (one of the chief nobles, and 
 lieutenant of the kingdom) was the criminal. He was 
 accused and tried, but, no evidence being offered, was 
 acquitted. Soon after this, Bothwell began to make 
 known his intention of marrying the queen, and seized 
 an early opportunity of effecting his purpose. Two 
 months after the murder of Darnley, Mary was returning 
 from Stirling to Edinburgh with a small escort of troops, 
 when Bothwell intercepted her with a party of upward 
 of five hundred men. Resistance was in vain, and Mary 
 Was carried off to Bothwell's castle, at Dunbar, where 
 she remained ten days entirely in his power. Mary 
 reproached Bothwell bitterly for his conduct, ia 
 making so ungrateful a return for her kindness and 
 favor to him, and demanded and entreated to be set 
 free. Bothwell, however, refused mildly, most earnestly 
 protesting against any rude design, and assuring her 
 
Mary Stuart of Scotland. 89 
 
 that love, not ambition, prompted him to require her to 
 marry him. Finding herself completely in his power, 
 no means of rescue at hand, and wearied and exhausted 
 by his urgency, she at length gave a reluctant consent. 
 On her return to Edinburgh, Mary stated that, now she 
 was entirely free, she would declare that though Both- 
 well had done wrong in carrying her away by force, yet 
 he had treated her in such a respectful manner that 
 she pardoned him, and consented to marry him. 
 
 Difficult as it may appear to account for this seeming 
 infatuation of Mary, yet it should be considered that 
 she found herself again widowed, in a land where she 
 (although its true-born sovereign) was looked upon by 
 many as a foreigner; that the bitterness of religious 
 animosity was excited against her, and that she was 
 constantly exposed to the machinations of a disloyal 
 nobility; under these, and perhaps other strange cir- 
 cumstances, it is not to be so much wondered at that 
 Mary should marry one of the most powerful and influ- 
 ential of her nobles, to protect her against the plots of 
 his fellows. These accordingly soon assumed a hostile 
 character, assembling in large numbers at Stirling in 
 the name of the Prince^ the infant son of Mar}^, and 
 marched against Bothwell, whom they drove into his 
 rocky sea-girt castle of Dunbar. Here, after many 
 parleys and challenges from Bothwell to fight any of 
 the disaffected lords in single combat, the quoen was 
 
90 Queens anb Princesses of France. 
 
 educed to the necessity of going over to the rebel 
 lords; telling them^ however^ that "she did so not from 
 any doubt or fear of the issue of a battle, but in order 
 to spare the effusion of Christian blood, especially 
 being that of her own dear subjects/' She was carried 
 to Edinburgh, and found herself a captive in the hands 
 of those bound to protect and free her. Thence she 
 was taken to the castle of Loch Leven. In the mean 
 time Mary's adherents took measures toward rescuing 
 their queen. They were not, however, strong enough 
 to effect their purpose by force, and tried negotiation in 
 vain. The rebel lords sent two of their number to 
 Mary, to demand of her to abdicate in favor of her son, 
 appointing Murray Regent. To do this the queen at 
 first steadily refused, fearing lest if she were to con- 
 sent it would imply an acknowledgment of her guilt, 
 till, threatened with the most violent and ferocious de- 
 nunciations of Lindsay, (one of Ptizzio's murderers,) she 
 was forced to sign mechanically the papers presented 
 to her. Upon this the infant prince, just one year old, 
 was crowned, and the lords pretended to rule in his 
 name under the title of James YI. Mary's release 
 from her captivity by her jailer's son, and his foster- 
 brothers, G-eorge and William Douglass, is well known. 
 She joined her faithful subjects at Hamilton, and the 
 news of her escape spread widely, and her own appear- 
 ance among her subjects tended to increase the number 
 
Mary Stuart of Scotland. 91 
 
 i>f her adherents, and inspire them with courage. She 
 declared that her abdication was forced from her, 
 against her will, and was therefore null and void, and 
 called upon all her faithful subjects to take up arms 
 and gather round her standard. In a week Mary, at 
 the head of six thousand men, met the rebel lords at 
 Langride, near Glasgow. Her troops were defeated, 
 while Mary looked on in a state of agonizing suspense. 
 A few faithful friends urged her to fly, and, it being 
 thought prudent for her to leave the country, England 
 and France were suggested as places of safety. Unfor- 
 tunately, Mary chose the former, as being perhaps more 
 easily accessible. She landed at Carlisle, and proceeded 
 to the castle. The governor was absent, in London, 
 whither an express was sent to inform him of the 
 arrival of his royal guest. On Elizabeth hearing of 
 her cousin's visit, she sent her very kind and consoling 
 messages, but at the same time gave private instructions 
 to the governor to keep her a prisoner, thus violating 
 the double law of hospitality, and that boasted law of 
 freedom which is said to belong to every one, even the 
 poor slave, who touches British soil. Mary requested 
 an interview with Elizabeth, but she refused, fearing, 
 doubtless, to meet her injured cousin face to face. 
 Elizabeth had the Queen of Scots removed farther into 
 the country, where she might be more safe /rom her 
 enemus. After much urging, but still protesting her 
 
92 Queens and Princesses of France 
 
 royal immunity from any foreign court, Mary gave a 
 reluctant consent to her cause being tried in England. 
 It began at York, and every thing going on, as of 
 course it was intended, against Mary, Elizabeth had 
 the court removed to London. Here things took a 
 more decided tone; and Mary, complaining that she 
 was not treated impartially, refused to allow the case 
 to continue, and requested Elizabeth to allow her to 
 proceed to her relatives in France. This was also 
 refused, ev(*.n on humiliating conditions, and now the 
 unfortunate queen perceived she was indeed a captive 
 in a foreign land. And a prisoner she remained, 
 notwithstanding her own protest and the interference 
 of others on her behalf, for the space of nearly twenty 
 years. ^ At length, a conspiracy having been formed 
 against Elizabeth, one of the intentions of the plotters 
 being to liberate Mary from prison, and which alone 
 they confided to her, she was brought to trial at 
 Fotheringay Castle, the prison in v/hich she was then 
 residing. Mary refused to acknowledge the juris- 
 diction of the court, or that Elizabeth had any right to 
 arraign or try her. Overcome by urgent entreaties, 
 and perhaps in the hope of its ultimately leading to 
 her liberation, she yielded. To all who knew tho 
 object of this mock trial, it was no matter of surprise 
 that it was found that " Mary, commonly called Queen 
 of Scots and Dowager of France, had been accessory to 
 
Mary Stuart of Scotland. 93 
 
 Babington's conspiracy^ and had compassed the death 
 of Elizabeth^ Queen of England/^ 
 
 Elizabeth pretended openly to be much concerned at 
 this result of the trial, but, it is certain, gave secret 
 instructions to her unscrupulous ministers to endeavor 
 to compass the death of Mary without her direct war- 
 rant and participation. Failing, however, in this, she 
 signed the death-warrant. On the commissioners 
 charged with its execution making known to Mary its 
 purport, although all around were horror-stricken and 
 gave full vent to their tears, Mary stood calm and col- 
 lected, and replied that " she was sorry that her cousin 
 Elizabeth should set the example of taking the life of a 
 sovereign queen ; but for herself she was willing to die. 
 Life had long ceased to afford her any peace or happi- 
 ness, and she was ready to exchange it for the prospect 
 of immortality.^^ She then laid her hand on the Tes- 
 tament which was near her, and called God to witness 
 *^ that she had never plotted herself, nor joined in any 
 plot with others, to compass Elizabeth's death. ^' One 
 of the commissioners remarking that her oath was 
 taken on a Catholic version of the Scriptures, anj 
 therefore not to be considered valid ! " Truly,'' she re- 
 plied, ^^ it should rather be considered more sacred, 
 seeing this is the only version which I regard aa 
 authoritative and true.'' 
 
 Mary heard, with surprise and en? otion, that the next 
 
94 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 day was appointed for her execution. She requested 
 to have the services of a Catholic priest, but, instead, 
 was persecuted by the forced ministrations of the Dean 
 of Peterborough, of which, however, she resolutely 
 refused to avail herself. She spent the greater part of 
 the night in prayer, in writing letters to her relatives 
 in France, and in making her will. Early in the morn- 
 ing she was again at her devotions, when the officers 
 came to announce the hour of death. Mary, with 
 great difficulty, obtained leave for her maids to accom- 
 pany her to the place of execution. At the foot of the 
 staircase she met Sir Andrew Melville, the master of 
 her household. He knelt before her, kissed her hand, 
 and said this was the saddest hour of his life. Mary 
 began to give him some last commissions and requests. 
 ^' Say/' said she, " that I die in the Catholic faith ; 
 that I forgive my enemies; that I feel that I have 
 never disgraced Scotland, my native country ; and that 
 I have always been true to France, the land of mj 
 
 happiest days. Tell my son '' Here her voice 
 
 faltered and ceased to be heard, and she b^rst into 
 tears. When she had recovered herself, *^ Tell my son/' 
 she continued, ^' that I thought of him in my last mo- 
 ments ; that I have never yielded, either by word or 
 deed, to any thing whatsoever that might lead to his 
 prejudice. Tell him to cherish the memory of his 
 
Mary Stuart of Scotland. 95 
 
 mother; and say that I sincerely hope his life may be 
 happier than mine has been/^ 
 
 The mournful procession then proceeded on its way. 
 Mary was attired in a gown of black silk or velvet ; a 
 long veil of white crape edged with rich lace hung 
 down almost to the ground. Around her neck was an 
 ivory crucifix, and she bore a rosary in her hands. 
 Mary ascended the platform amid the death-like silence 
 of the spectators. Here the warrant of her execution 
 was read. She then addressed the assembly in a firm 
 and audible voice. ^^ It is a new spectacle/^ said she, 
 ^^ to behold a queen die upon the scafibld ; but I would 
 have you remember that I am a sovereign princess, not 
 subject to the Parliament of England, but brought 
 hither by inji^^tice and violence. I am a near relation 
 of Queen Elizabeth, and am by blood the lawful in- 
 heritor (after her) of the crown of England. I have 
 been long and wrongfully detained a prisoner in these 
 lands, where I have endured much misery, by no other 
 right than that which force gives so to treat. I, how- 
 ever, thank God that it has afforded me an opportunity 
 of publicly professing my religion, and of having this 
 assembly to witness that I die in the Catholic faith. 
 Before them, in the presence of the living God, I also 
 declare, what I have before declared, that I never ima- 
 gined, nor compassed, nor consented to the death of the 
 Queen of England^ nor ever sought the least harm to 
 
56 Queens and Princesses of Trance. 
 
 tlie life of my cousin. After my death, many tiling? 
 which are now buried in darkness will be revealed. I 
 have been guilty of nothing which merits the present 
 punishment; unless I be charged with my religion, for 
 which I deem myself most happy to shed my blood. I 
 place all my hopes in Him who is represented on this 
 cross which I hold in my hand; and I promise myself 
 that the temporal death which I am to suffer for Hia 
 name will be the beginning of an eternal life wdth 
 the angels and saints above From my heart I pardon 
 all my enemies and all who have done me wrong, and 
 I ask forgiveness of all to whom I may have done 
 amiss. ^^ With the exception of one or two hearts 
 whom fanaticism had steeled to every gentler feeling, 
 there was not one of the assembled juultitude who 
 heard her with dry eyes. The very executioners, fall- 
 ing on their knees, begged her forgiveness for their 
 part in the awful scene. Mary then began to pray, 
 when she was interrupted by the Protestant dean with 
 his officious and insulting remarks. Mary begged him 
 to desist. He continued. Again Mary requested him 
 to cease, saying, " Mr. Dean, my mind is settled in the 
 ancient Catholic faith : in that I have lived, and, by the 
 grace of God, in that I am resolved to die.'' An end 
 was put to this extraordinary scene by the Earl of 
 Shrewsbury, who, seeing that she persisted in refusing 
 his exhortation, said to her, ^'We will pray for your 
 
Mary Stuart of Scotland. 97 
 
 Grace, that it may stand with God's will that your 
 heart may be enlightened, even at the last hour, with 
 the true knowledge of God, so that you may die therein/' 
 ^^ If you will pray for me/' said Mary, mildly, " I will 
 thank you; but to join in your prayers I cannot, for 
 you and I are not of the same religion/' Then they 
 beckoned to the dean, who offered aloud a prayer, which 
 was the echo of his sermon. But Mary heeded him 
 not : her whole soul was absorbed in devotion, repeat- 
 ing aloud in Latin various prayers and passages from 
 the Psalms. At the conclusion of her prayer, Mary 
 held up the crucifix and exclaimed, " As thy arms, 
 my Savior, were extended .on the cross, in like manner 
 receive me into the outstretched arms of Thy mercy, 
 and pardon all my sins !" The Puritanism of the Earl 
 of Kent was shocked. ^^ Madam/' said he, '^ you had 
 better leave such popish trumperies. Have Christ in 
 your heart, and not in your hand." She replied, '^ I 
 cannot hold in my hand the representation of His suf- 
 ferings but I must at the same time bear Him in my 
 heart. It represents to my eyes the Savior suffering 
 upon the cross by the hands of wicked men ] and it 
 enables me to meet my sufferings with patience." 
 
 When her prayer was finished, her maids, bathed in 
 
 tears, helped her to rise, and began to disrobe their 
 
 mistress. But the executioners, fearing to lose their usual 
 
 perquisites, interfered. The queen remonstrated, ob- 
 
 G 
 
98 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 serving to the earls, with a smile, that she was not 
 accustomed to such grooms, nor to undress in the 
 presence of so numerous a company. When one of 
 the executioners took from her neck a gold cross and a 
 chain, to which was suspended an Agnus Dei, she took 
 it from his hands, and, giving it to one of her women, 
 told him that it should be answered for with money. 
 When disrobed to her kirtle, she replaced with her 
 own hands a pair of sleeves which they had pulled off. 
 It was remarked " that she did it in haste, as if she 
 longed to be gone.'' Her attendants, at the sight of 
 their sovereign in this destitute and forlorn condition, 
 could not suppress their feelings; but Mary, turning 
 to them, placed her finger on her lip and said, ^' Ne 
 criez pas ; j'ai promis pour vous.'' (Do not cry; I have 
 given my word for you.) Then, giving them her 
 blessing and embracing them, she bade them pray for 
 her, and not weep, but rejoice at seeing the end of all 
 her misfortunes. Mrs. Kennedy then took a Corpus 
 Christi cloth, lapped it in three-cornerwise, and, placing 
 it over the queen's face, pinned it fast to her head- 
 dress. One of the executioners took her by the arm 
 and led her to the block ; and the queen, kneeling down, 
 said repeatedly, with a firm voice, ^' Into thy hands, O 
 Lord, I commend my spirit." At this moment sobs and 
 groans burst forth from the spectators, and discon- 
 certed the Jieadsipan. He trembled ; the axe descended, 
 
Mary Stuart ojf Scotland. 99 
 
 and, missing its aim, inflicted a deep wound on tlie 
 lower part of the skull. The queen remained motion- 
 less, and at the third stroke her head was severed from 
 her body. When the executioner held it up, con- 
 vulsed and streaming with blood, he cried, as usual, 
 ^^ God save Queen Elizabeth V^ '' So perish all her 
 enemies!'^ subjoined the Dean of Peterborough. The 
 fanatical Earl of Kent, approaching the dead body and 
 standing over it, exclaimed, in a still louder tone, '' So 
 perish all the enemies of the gospel V^ Not a voice 
 responded Amen. The spectators remained silent and 
 drowned in tears. Party feeling was absorbed in ad- 
 miration and pity. A solemn requiem for the repose 
 of the queen^s soul was sung at Notre Dame, in Paris, 
 the day following the news of her murder reaching that 
 capital. The funeral discourse was preached by the 
 Archbishop of Bourges. 
 
 ^^Many of us/^ said the venerable orator, in a tone 
 that drew tears from every eye, — '^ many of us have 
 seen in this very place the queen, whom we now de- 
 plore, on her bridal morning, and in her royal robes, so 
 resplendent with jewels that they shone like the light 
 of day, or like her own beauty, which was more re- 
 splendent still. Nothing was to be discovered around 
 or within but embroidered han£^:in";s and cloth-of-2:old, 
 and precious tapestry, and couches and thrones, occu- 
 pied by kings, queens, and princes and nobles, who had 
 
100 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 come from all parts to be present at the festival. In 
 the palace were magnificent banquets and pageants 
 and masquerades; in the streets and squares joustings, 
 tournaments, and processions. It seemed as if the 
 overwhelming brilliancy of our age was destined to sur- 
 pass the richest pomp of every preceding age, — even 
 the times when Greece and Rome were all in their 
 splendor. A brief space has passed away, like a cloud, 
 and we have seen her a captive whom we saw in tri- 
 umph, — a prisoner, who set the prisoners free, — poor, 
 who gave away so liberally, — disdained, who was the 
 fountain of honor. We have seen her, who was two- 
 fold a queen, in the hands of a common executioner^ 
 and that fair form which graced the nuptial couch of 
 the greatest monarch of Christendom, dishonored on 3 
 scaffold. We have seen that loveliness which was one 
 of the wonders of the world broken down by long cap- 
 tivity and at length effaced by an ignominious death. 
 If this fatal reverse teaches the uncertainty and vanity 
 of all human things, the patience and incomparable 
 fortitude of the queen we have lost also teach a more 
 profitable lesson and afford a salutary consolation. 
 Every new calamity gave her an opportunity of gaining 
 a new victory and of evincing fresh proofs of her piety 
 and constancy. It seems certain, indeed, that Provi- 
 dence made her alSiction conspicuous only to render 
 her virtue more conspicuous. Others leave to their sue- 
 
Mary Stuart of Scotland. 101 
 
 cessors the care of building monuments to preserve tlieir 
 names from oblivion ; but the life and death of this 
 lady is her monument. Marble, and brass, and iron 
 decay or are devoured by rust ; but in no age, however 
 long the world may endure, will the memory of Mary 
 Stuart, Queen of Scots and of France, cease to be che- 
 rished with affection and admiration/^ 
 
102 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 (Sliakth of %mim, 
 
 QUEEN OF CHARLES IX. 
 A.D. 1554—1592, 
 
 AUGHTER of the Emperor Maxi- 
 milian II. and of Mary of Austria, 
 Elizabeth, when sixteen years of age, 
 possessed great beauty, and was of such 
 a modest, prudent, and retiring nature, 
 that on her arrival at the French court 
 she immediately understood the part she 
 was to play to avoid in the least way 
 interfering with her mother-in-law, the infamous 
 Catharine of Medici. Her conduct greatly pleased 
 Charles, who used to say, " I can boast of having a 
 lovely wife, who is the most wise and virtuous woman, 
 not only in France or Europe, but in the whole world." 
 Iler marriage took place at Mezieres. The cere- 
 mony was performed by the Cardinal de Bourbon on 
 the 26th of November, 1570. The magnificence dis- 
 played on this occasion was so great that the Germans 
 
Elizabeth of Austria. 103 
 
 who accompanied the princess were continually ex- 
 claiming, " What a fine kingdom ! what a magnificent 
 kingdom I its riches are inexhaustible V^ The richness 
 of the corthge of the king, queen, and queen-mother 
 was beyond any^thing that had been seen in previous 
 reigns. The robes of the princes and princesses were 
 of cloth-of-silver, embroidered with pearls, and trimmed 
 with ermine for the latter, and with lynx for the 
 former. The young queen wore a royal mantle, worked 
 with exquisite skill, and a gold crown enriched with 
 diamonds. Her mantle was of violet velvet, covered 
 with fieurs-de-lis worked in gold, and trimmed with 
 spotted ermine; her train was sixty yards long. The 
 costumes of the courtiers were in styles to correspond 
 with this royal magnificence. At the wedding break- 
 fast, which was also of unusual richness and variety, 
 the turkey was served for the first time in Europe. 
 
 On the night of the fatal St. Bartholomew, the 
 queen, waking affrighted, was informed of what was 
 passing. *^ Heavens !^ she exclaimed, ^^ does the king 
 know of it V ^' He does, madame,^^ was the reply. 
 Falling on her knees, she exclaimed, '' God, what 
 evil counsellors can have advised this terrible deed ! 
 I implore Thee to pardon him; for if Thou dost not 
 have pity on him, I "fear he never will be forgiven.'' 
 And she continued thus in prayer the whole of that 
 fearful night. 
 
104 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 During Charles's illness^ his queen did not quit liis 
 oedside. ^^ She excited every one's compassion/' says 
 Bran tome; ^^ for no one could see unmoved her tender 
 and pious tears, which she endeavored to conceal, so 
 that they might not distress the king/' 
 
 " Brother/' said Charles, when dying, to Henry of 
 Navarre, (either from want of confidence in Catharine 
 of Medici, or from some secret fear that she might not 
 be happy,)—" Brother, to you I commend my wife and 
 daughter." This was his only child, Mary Elizabeth, 
 who died later, at Amboise, in the seventh year of her 
 age. 
 
 Her ladies encircling her, and trying to afford con- 
 solation at the death of the king, one of them said 
 to her, "Alas ! madame, what a pity it is you have 
 not a son ! for then you would be both queen-mother 
 and regent.'' " Bather thank God that it is not so," 
 replied the virtuous queen; "France is already too 
 unhappy to be burdened with the cares of a long 
 minority. God has taken pity on me, and has ordered 
 every thing for the best." 
 
 Elizabeth did not remain in France, but returned to 
 the court of her brother, the Emperor Budolph. There 
 she founded a convent of the order of St. Clare. She 
 employed the revenues of her provinces of Berry, Bour- 
 bonnais, Forez, and La Marche, in benefiting and assist- 
 ing the poor inhabitants. When her sister, Margaret 
 
Elizabeth of Austria. 105 
 
 of Yaiois, fell into misfortune, Elizabetli shared her 
 income with her, like a true sister. Happy in her re- 
 tirement, she refused the offer of the hand of Philip II., 
 King of Spain. She died in 1592, aged only thirty- 
 seven years, and was regretted by all who had ever ap- 
 proached her, and by the thousands her charities had 
 relieved. Margaret of Yaiois was inconsolable; and 
 the Queen of Spain exclaimed. '• The best of us is 
 dead 1'^ She was buried in itc '^hurch of the convent 
 she had founded at Vienna. 
 
106 yUEENS AND PRINCESSES OF FrANCE. 
 
 QUEEN OF HENRY III. 
 A.D. 1553—1601. 
 
 robe of Holy Cliurch is adorned with 
 
 embroidery of various kinds and co- 
 
 lors.^^ This saying may be well ap- 
 
 '^^ plied to the last two queens of the last 
 
 '^JJ® kings of Valois ; both pious, amiable, faith- 
 
 ^y^^r^^v ful wives, and true widows, seeking no con- 
 -gl^yf^^ solation but in God alone; modest in their 
 ^ ^i^ retreat, after having given examples of the 
 highest virtue in the most corrupt courts : — such were 
 the Queens Elizabeth and Louisa. This high per- 
 fection, however, bore peculiar marks in each of them, 
 which permits us to remark shades of difference and 
 almost contrasts, like two exquisite flowers of varied 
 hue and perfume. 
 
 Elizabeth was justly called comely; but Louisa had 
 a style of beauty which is so rare that it may be almost 
 called ideal. Bran tome, who was a good judge in this 
 
liOUlSA OF VAUDEMONT. 107 
 
 matter, writes^ ^^ Never was so much beauty, grace, and 
 sweetness united in one person : when adorned, she out- 
 shone the most brilliant ladies; unadorned, she even 
 was still more pleasing/^ Under such advantages, 
 Henry III. saw her for the first time, when, travelling 
 through France to Poland, he stopped in Lorraine 
 Louisa, daughter of Nicholas of Lorraine, Count A 
 Vaudemont, and of Margaret d'Egmont, had lost her 
 mother in infancy. When, at the age of ten years, 
 Louisa appeared at the court of Duke Charles, her 
 cousin, at Nancy, Madame Claudia of France was much 
 struck at the wonderful polish of her manners and con- 
 versation, and complimented her step-mother, Jane of 
 Savoy, who had really devoted all her energies to her 
 little step-daughter, as if she had been her own child. 
 Louisa was so docile that she never even committed 
 those slight faults into which children so easily fall. 
 Her mind was not very highly cultivated ; but she had 
 a good memory, and was fond of reading. The Lady 
 de Champy, her governess, provided her with French 
 servants, and was exceedingly particular in the choice 
 of her companions: so that from an early age she spoke 
 the purest French. But her chief merit in the eyes of 
 the virtuous was the great delight she took in all acts 
 of piety and devotion. 
 
 When Dugart, the favorite of Henry III., came to 
 demand her in marriage from the Duke of Vaudemont, 
 
108 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 Louisa was absent. From tlie age of twelve sbe had 
 been accustomed to pay a weekly visit to the chapel 
 of St. Nicholas, in the neighborhood of Nancy. She 
 always went on foot, and often clad like a simple 
 country-girl, accompanied by one or two attendants. 
 She distributed on her way twenty-five crowns, which 
 her father allowed her for pocket-money. On the 
 evening of the day the ambassador arrived from the 
 King of France, Louisa, having returned rather later 
 than usual, and being very tired, had gone to bed 
 without appearing at the family-circle. The next 
 morning she was aroused by her step-mother — (not the 
 good Jane of Savoy, whom she had had the misfortune 
 to lose in 1568, but) — Catharine of Lorraine, who, in 
 place of kindDcss, treated her with every humiliation. 
 So, seeing her enter her room at this early and unac- 
 customed hour, she fancied it was for some new cause 
 of complaint and severity, and, excusing herself, said, 
 ^^ Pardon me for not having been ready to attend you, 
 madame.^^ ^^ It is I, madame, who must wait on you 
 now; for you are Queen of France. I would not allow 
 anybody else the pleasure of announcing this good 
 news to you: forget, madame, in receiving it, my ill 
 conduct toward you; and when on the throne, do not 
 refuse to my children, your brothers, that protection 
 which you may not confer on their mother.'^ 
 
 The astonishment of Louisa may be conceived: she 
 
Louisa of Vaudemont. 1G9 
 
 could not understand what Ler step-motlier meant. 
 ^^ What do you mean^ niadame/^ cried she^ '' and what 
 lias happened ?^^ The Duke of Lorraine and the Count 
 of Yaudemont entered at this moment^ to congratulate 
 and confirm the extraordinary news. Her father em- 
 braced her repeatedly in transports of joy at her good 
 fortune. 
 
 On the 11th of February, Louisa, accompanied by her 
 fcither, reached Kheims. Her first interview with the 
 king took place the following morning, and the corona- 
 tion was fixed for the next day. But, through the 
 king's great negligence and dilatory conduct, this event 
 was any thing but propitious. So occupied was he 
 with his costTx-ne, that he spent seven hours in dressing 
 himself for the ceremony, which did not take place till 
 four o'clock in the afternoon, by torchlight, the bishops, 
 courtiers, and people having been kept waiting since 
 ten in the morning. Then, it was remarked that twice 
 the crown seemed to slip off the king's head, and he 
 complained that it hurt him; the master of the cere- 
 monies forgot to lead the deacon to give the king the 
 kiss of peace ; and no Te Deum was chanted. 
 
 In the early part of their union Henry appeared de- 
 voted to his young queen. He granted her every favor 
 she asked, and enriched the already powerful family of 
 Lorraine, by granting to the duke the power of- coining 
 in the Barrois. Catharine de Medici; however^ soon 
 
no Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 interfered, fearing lest the queen should attain too 
 great an ascendency over the mind of the weak Henry. 
 By her orders the king commanded her to dismiss 
 Madame de Champy, her governess. This and other 
 slights threw the queen upon a bed of sickness. Henry, 
 without entirely returning to his first love for her, 
 showed her greater kindness, and they lived for some 
 time happily together. The king left her entire liberty 
 in her religious exercises, and to these she devoted the 
 larger portion of her time. She determined to dress in 
 the plainest manner, wearing nothing but linen, and to 
 carry. so simple a train that no one would ever have 
 dreamed of her being a noble lady, much less a queen. 
 In the following instance this pious princess gives 
 her sex, of all times and ages, a good lesson on the 
 vanity of dress, and the wickedness of indulging in 
 finery beyond that which our position in society and 
 our means fully enable us to do. She was one day 
 making some purchases in a shop in the Rue St. Denis, 
 when a lady, showily dressed, asked, *' Who is this 
 person who presumes to pass before the president's 
 wife ?" The queen, turning round, said to her, " Really, 
 madame, you are too magnificent for a lady of youf 
 station.^' (It must be remarked that a royal edict had 
 just been issued, regulating the costume of each con- 
 dition of life, and especially of the wives of presidents, 
 who were expressly forbidden to vie in dress with the 
 
J.ouisA OF Vaudemont. Ill 
 
 grand ladies at court.) ^' If I am magnificent,^^ replied 
 the president's wife, little knowing to whom she spoke, 
 '' it is not at any other person's expense, and least of all 
 at yours/' On being told it was the queen, the vain 
 woman threw herself on her knees and implored pardon 
 for her presumption. " Rise, madame,'' said the 
 queen, in words which ought to be printed in letters of 
 gold, '' and be assured that my only displeasure is caused 
 by the neglect of the royal edict. Reflect, madame, 
 that such regulations are wise that put a curb on per- 
 sonal luxury and extravagance, which, in ruining so 
 many families, injure the interests of the poor, excite 
 envy, hurt modesty, and inflict deep and lasting wounds 
 on the soul. The State would be much more prosper- 
 ous if each one would do his duty, and if luxury and 
 extravagance in dress were to give place to a becoming 
 and modest attire, suited to the position and means of 
 each individual. '^ This lesson, it is said, was not lost 
 on the poor president's wife and the rest of the 
 auditors. 
 
 Immediately after his assassination at Saint Cloud, 
 on the 1st of August, 1589, Henry insisted on writing to 
 apprize his wife in these tender words : — '^ My life, — 
 You must know that I have been badly wounded ; but 
 I hope it will not prove dangerous. Pray to God for 
 me. Adieu, my life. — Yours, Henry." 
 
 Louisa was then at Chinon, where she was in sore 
 
112 Queens and Princesses of France 
 
 distress. She was obliged to dismiss all her attendants 
 save four. As the news of the king's death arrived at 
 the same time as his letter, they did not give it to the 
 queen, foolishly thinking they should be better able to 
 prepare her gradually to receive the sad news. She 
 was induced to go to Chenonceaux, where the terrible 
 event was made known to her. She was inconsolable, 
 and spent the time of mourning in the most complete 
 seclusion. The writer has seen a most exquisite relic 
 of the Middle Ages, — the ebony bed on which she re- 
 posed, and the furniture used by her, all ornamented 
 with bas-reliefs in silver. From this room the queen's 
 oratory is entered, and thence you are conducted into 
 the library, which bears this inscription on the entrance- 
 door : — '^ Lihrairie de la reyne.^' 
 
 Louisa obtained from Henry a promise to prosecute 
 the king's murderers ; but the Leaguers m^ade a hero 
 of Jacques Clement, shut the gates of Paris against the 
 legitimate king, and Henry lY. was obliged to recon- 
 quer his own kingdom. 
 
 Louisa was now reduced to ;an income of twelve 
 thousand crowns;, when the new king was in a state to 
 pay her dowry, she had one hundred thousand livres. 
 The king also gave her the city of Romarentin. In 
 1593, the king being at Chartres, the queen-do^\ager 
 went to see him, and personally present her grievances 
 to him. At the Mass, which was sung immediately 
 
Louisa of Yaupemont. 113 
 
 after tlie audience, Louisa fainted, moved by a discourse 
 into which the fate of her husband was introduced, and 
 by the singing of the psalm ^^Exaudiat/' of which 
 Henry III. was especially fond. Henry lY. shewed 
 the greatest regard for her, and gave her all the con- 
 solation in his power. He forgot at this moment that, 
 at the time of the League, Louisa had opposed him, and 
 had not received him very cordially on the occasion of 
 his reconciliation with Henry III. She again retreated 
 to Chenonceaux. One of her favorite acts of charity 
 was to find out some respectable family reduced by mis- 
 fortune, and set them up again in the sphere from which 
 they had fallen. She also entirely supported a number 
 of indigent families. But this did not prevent her from 
 e^iving rich presents to churches and to convents, to which 
 she was a most generous benefactor. In 1598 she made 
 a magnificent offering to the shrine of Our Lady of 
 Loretto: it consisted of a gold heart, enriched with 
 diamonds, and a silver lamp. She founded several 
 chaplaincies at Notre Dame des Ardelliers. While on 
 a visit at Chartres, she bestowed on that venerated 
 eanctuary considerable gifts, and gave sixty thousand 
 (ivres to found a monastery of Capucins. The last ten 
 fears of her life she suffered so severely as to be con- 
 fitantly confined to her bed. At length she died, on the 
 29th of January, 1601, at Moulins, one of the cities of 
 her dowry. She ended her life in such pious and 
 H 
 
114 Queens AND Princesses of France. 
 
 resigned sentiments that one of her historians does not 
 hesitate to say that " the death of some of the greatest 
 gaints was not marked more strongly with the seal of 
 the Lamb/' In her will, dated Moulins, 28th January, 
 1601, she expressly desires a convent of Capucins to be 
 founded at Bourges. Henry TV., however, took upon 
 himself to change the locality of the convent to Paris, 
 and within its sacred precincts the body of Louisa of 
 Vaudemont, Queen of France and Poland, Countess of 
 Ferez and of Upper and Lower Marche^ and Lady of 
 Romorentin, was interred. 
 
Henrietta MAPaA 
 
 115 
 
 Icnrktta Mark, 
 
 PRINCESS OF FRANCE. 
 QUEEN OF CHARLES I. OF ENGLAND. 
 
 A.D. 1609—1669. 
 
 interest whicli all Englisli readers 
 must feel in the career of the beauti- 
 ful but unfortunate daughter of 
 Henry the Great induces us to enter 
 more in detail upon the events of her life 
 than that of any of the other royal person- 
 ages herein commemorated. 
 
 On the 25th of November, 1609, was 
 born at Paris the third and last daughter of Henry 
 lY. and Mary of Medicis. She was presented at the 
 font by the Papal nuncio, Cardinal MaiFeo Barbarini, 
 (afterward the celebrated Pope Urban YIIT.,) and re« 
 eeived the names of " Henriette Marie. '^ She possessed 
 in a greater degree than the rest of her sisters a striking 
 resemblance in feature to the king her father, and after- 
 ward showed much of the noble and frank character of 
 the " good Henry.'' From the moment she left her 
 
9 
 IIG Queens anb Princesses of France. 
 
 cradle she became tlie object of general admiration, and 
 many fancied they saw in her countenance traces of the 
 many virtues which adorned her mind. When six 
 months old, she had the asperges placed in her innocent 
 little hand to sprinkle the murdered corpse of her father, 
 a pretty custom, which still prevails in Normandy. She 
 was next, seven months afterward, carried in the arms 
 of the Duchess of Conde at the coronation of her bro- 
 ther, Louis XIII., at Rheims. She had attained her 
 eighth year when, on the occasion of the marriage of her 
 sister Christine to Duke Amadeus of Savoy, the illus- 
 trious Bishop of Geneva, St. Francis de Sales, saw her, 
 apparently entirely devoted to the parade which sur- 
 rounded her sister, and said, ^^ Madame, you will one 
 day have a more solid glory.'' Then turning to her 
 governess. Mademoiselle de Montglat, he added, '^ Me- 
 thinks I see in the face of this august child signs that 
 God destines her to sustain the glory of His Church." 
 
 On the breaking-off of the project of marriage between 
 the eldest son of James I., Charles, Prince of Wales, 
 with the Infanta of Spain, an ambassador was sent to 
 ask the hand of Henrietta Maria. In his description of 
 her to his young master the ambassador summed up by 
 declaring the youthful princess to be '' for beauty and 
 goodness a very angel." At first opposed to this mar- 
 riage, on account of the diflference of religion between 
 the royal families and his fears for the happiness of his 
 
Henrietta Maria. 117 
 
 godchild, Pope Urban VIII. at length reluctantly 
 granted the necessary dispensations, hoping that this 
 marriage might be the means of procuring some relaxa- 
 tions of the dreadful penal laws against the English 
 Catholics. 13ut the rejoicings for the marriage were 
 no sooner over than the persecutions of the Catholics 
 recommenced, it is true, against the will of the young 
 king, who showed the greatest attachment to his beauti- 
 ful bride. It was also one of the principal causes which 
 rendered her odious to the disaffected rebels who sought 
 to overturn the throne, and to the Protestant divines, 
 who feared the influence of a young, beautiful, virtuous, 
 and zealous queen. 
 
 Twelve priests whom the queen had brought over in 
 her suite, by virtue of her marriage- contract, were sent 
 home, and it was with great difficulty that she was able 
 to retain some religious, whose assistance proved after- 
 ward of great value. 
 
 While the plague raged in London, the court retired 
 to Salisbury to escape its dreadful ravages. But the 
 poor queen's heart was moved with compassion at the 
 thought of the sufferings of her adopted people, who 
 were dying in such numbers without any spiritual aid. 
 The religious whom she had retained were then of the 
 greatest assistance to aid in her works of charity. She 
 charged these worthy ministers of God to go about 
 London disguised, so as not to be recognised, (which 
 
118 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 v^ould have been certain death to them,) and console 
 the dying, both Protestantg and Catholics, bestowing 
 their spiritual aid on the latter; and on all, without 
 distinction, the alms with which the queen most abun* 
 dantly supplied them. 
 
 When the plague had ceased, the persecutions of the 
 Catholics revived. Some pursuivants had the audacity 
 to arrest several under the very eyes of the queen, and, 
 despite her commands, to drag them ignominiously to 
 prison. 
 
 Henrietta, by her virtues and the amiability of her 
 disposition, gained daily a great ascendency over the 
 heart of her husband, and was equally esteemed for the 
 solid qualities of her mind and her great domestic dis- 
 positions, which endeared her to the court. The queen 
 profited by this influence to endeavor to assist the 
 Catholics of London in enabling them to attend to 
 their religious duties. 
 
 Some Franciscan monks were established by her in 
 a convent adjoining Somerset Palace, in the Strand, in 
 which they celebrated the Divine office with as much 
 solemnity as in France. Their church was daily 
 crowded by the faithful, and even by many Protestants, 
 who came disposed to learn the truth, some of whom 
 embraced Catholicity, despite the evil efi*ects it might 
 produce on their temporal state. 
 
 " Though the first years of her marriage with Charles 
 
Henrietta Maria. 119 
 
 were passed in occasional misunderstandings, chiefly on 
 account of her deep attachment to her religion and her 
 strongly insisting on the utmost possible liberty for it 
 for herself and Catholic subjects, the fundest attach- 
 ment ever after subsisted between the royal pair, and 
 they indeed formed a perfect model of conjugal happi- 
 ness. An increasing and lovely family cemented their 
 union. Henrietta was a fond mother, and devoted 
 much of her time to her nursery. Occasionally her 
 divine voice was heard singing to her infant, as she 
 lulled it in her arms, filling the magnificent galleries of 
 Whitehall with its enchanting cadences. Queenly 
 etiquette prevented her from charming listeners with 
 its strains at other times. 
 
 '^ Henrietta Maria was not only the queen, but the 
 beauty, of the English court. She had about the year 
 1633 attained the perfection of her charms in face and 
 figure. She was the theme of every poet^ the star of 
 all beholders. The moral life of Charles I., his con- 
 jugal attachment to his queen, and the refined tastes 
 of both, gave the court a degree of elegance till then 
 unknown.'^ 
 
 The storm of civil war was meantime growling and 
 muttering around, and at last burst over the royal 
 heads, and brought their happy days to an untimely 
 conclusion. One of the first outrages upon the queen 
 
120 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 vas the dismissal of her religious, and the total destruc- 
 tion of their chapel at Somerset House. 
 
 It was now time for the young daughter of Henry 
 ly. to show that the spirit of her great father was not 
 extinguished in her. The queen proposed to her royal 
 husband that she should depart for Holland on the 
 ostensible errand of conducting the little princess royal 
 to her young spouse, the Prince of Orange, but in 
 reality for the purpose of selling her jewels to provide 
 her consort with the means of defence. Charles him- 
 self conducted her to Dover, on the 23d of February, 
 1G41. He stood on the shore watching the departing 
 sails with tearful eyes, doubtful whether they should 
 ever meet again. " As the wind was favorable for 
 coasting," the queen declares, " her husband rode four 
 leagues, following the vessel along the windings of the 
 shore.'' 
 
 The queen spent a year in Holland, engaged in 
 superintending the completion of the education of her 
 daughter, but chiefly in obtaining by loans, and by the 
 sale of her jewels, assistance for her husband. She 
 re-embarked almost on the anniversary of her depart- 
 ure, carrying with her upward of two million pounds 
 sterling. The ship was tossed on the stormy billows 
 for nine days, the queen's ladies screaming and lament- 
 ing perpetually. '^ Calm yourselves, my dears," said 
 the queen, to cheer them ; " queens of England are 
 
Henrietta Maria. 121 
 
 never drowned.'' At length she landed at Burlinp^ton 
 quay, whence, after many perils and adventures, she 
 set forth to join the king with ^^ an escort of two thou- 
 sand cavaliers, guarding six pieces of cannon, two large 
 mortars, and two hundred and fifty wagons loaded with 
 money/' As she advanced through the country she 
 was joined by many noblemen and their tenants, and 
 she rode at their head, animating them like a " she- 
 majesty- generalissimo," as she amusingly describes her- 
 self in one of her letters to Charles. 
 
 Passing through Newark, she was assailed by the 
 petition-mania then existing, by one from the ladies of 
 that town on political matters, to whom she gave the 
 following sly hint in her reply : — ^^ Ladies, affairs of this 
 nature are not in our sphere. I am commanded by the 
 king to make all the haste to him I can. You will 
 receive this advantage, at least, by my answer, though 
 I cannot grant your petition : — you may learn hy my 
 example to obey your hushaiids/^ 
 
 At length the royal pair met, and Charles received 
 her whom he emphatically called ^^his wife," with 
 transport, praising her high courage and faithful affec- 
 tion. For a few months the beautiful mediaeval city 
 of Oxford was the seat of the English court, over 
 which the queen presided. Previous to the battle of 
 Newbury (so fatal to his cause) Charles escorted his 
 beloved wife to Abingdon, and there, on the 3d of 
 
122 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 April^ 1644, with streaming eyes and dark forebodings 
 of the future, tliis attached pair parted never to meet 
 again on earth. 
 
 And now her husband's misfortunes drove Henrietta 
 back again to that France which she had quitted, in all 
 the pride of youth and beauty, nineteen years before. 
 But she was not to reach its shores without much suffer- 
 ing and danger. The queen hastened to Exeter, where 
 she gave birth to a daughter, (Elizabeth Anne,) on the 
 16th of June, 1644, and in a fortnight after she was 
 obliged to fly from the Earl of Exeter, who was 
 approaching to besiege the town, and who brutally re- 
 fused her permission to return to recruit her health. 
 She hid herself with but two attendants, in a hut three 
 miles from the city, where she passed two days without 
 any thing to nourish her, under a heap of litter. She 
 heard the parliamentary soldiers defile past her, ex- 
 claiming with oaths ^^ that they would take Henrietta's 
 head to London '^ On the 29th of June she sailed 
 from Pendennis Castle in a Dutch boat, which was chased 
 by a cruiser, and in great danger of being captured, 
 when it fell in with some Dieppe boats, who escorted 
 her to a wild rocky cove at Chastel, near Brest. Here 
 she landed, and, with great difficulty climbing over the 
 rugged and intricate pathway, entered the first peasant 
 cottage, where she spent the night. On its becoming 
 known who she was, the Breton gentlemen flocked 
 
Henrietta Maria. 123 
 
 around and conducted her to the Baths at Bourbon. 
 Here she remained to recruit her health. But she 
 wept perpetually for her husband's misfortunes; she 
 was wasted almost to maceration, and her beauty was 
 forever departed. But at the same time she was not 
 above being agreeable in society, and was still dis- 
 tinguished for her sweetness, sincerity, ease, and cheer- 
 fulness. 
 
 Henrietta was invited to Paris by her sister-in-law, 
 Anne of Austria, who settled an income of twelve 
 thousand crowns a month on her, and gave her apart- 
 ments in the Louvre and at St. Germain's. But of this, 
 as of every thing else she received, this generous and 
 devoted woman deprived herself, (except for the bare 
 necessaries of life,) sending all to her husband. Bound- 
 less generosity — a generosity occurring in the time ol 
 privation — was a characteristic of Henrietta. In grati- 
 tude to God and our BJ^ssed Lady for her preservation 
 amidst all her dangers, and safe arrival in her native 
 land, the queen sent fifteen hundred livres to the sanc- 
 tuary of our Lady of Liesse* (or Joy) for a mass to be 
 said in perpetuity for her and her family. 
 
 Her time was spent in writing to her beloved hus- 
 
 * For the origin of this celebrated sanctuary see the ^* Legends 
 of the Blessed Virgin," translated from the French of Collin de 
 Plancy, by the author of this work. London : Dolman. Second 
 edition. 
 
124 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 band and deciphering liis answers, and in receiving 
 the loyal English emigrants, for whom she kept open 
 house. In 1646, the young Prince of Wales joined 
 bis mother; and this was the first gleam of joy 
 she had met with since she parted from his father; 
 and before the end of the year her little Henrietta, 
 whom she had left in faithful hands at Exeter, was 
 restored to her loving arms. ^^ The queen, separated 
 from her husband and children, living in loneliness 
 of heart at the Louvre, had thought intensely of this 
 babe^ and, earnestly desiring its restoration, had vowed 
 that if she were ever reunited to her she would rear 
 her in her own rehgion.^' The mother and child, thus 
 wonderfully reunited, were never separated for any 
 length of time again. The sad queen seems to hava 
 exerted her warmest maternal affection in this youngest 
 and fairest of her offspring. 
 
 At times, Henrietta would i^tire for some weeks to 
 one of the Carmelite convents, when under the press- 
 ure of ill health or sorrow, and find consolation in 
 the society of the holy virgins there consecrated to 
 God. 
 
 During the troubles of the Fronde, when Anne of 
 Austria and her family retired to St. Germain-en-Laye, 
 Henrietta boldly remained at the Louvre, in hopes (by 
 her influence with the Conde family) of obtaining a 
 reconciliation; which, aftier many troubles and priva- 
 
Henrietta Maria. 125 
 
 tion&, she successfully accomplished. During this time, 
 shut up alone in the. dreary walls of the Louvre^ in an 
 agony of suspense regarding her husband, she received 
 a visit from the Cardinal de Retz. He found her 
 without any fire, though the snow was falling dismally, 
 sitting by the bedside of her little daughter, still in 
 bed, though it was noon. *^You find me/' said the 
 queen, calmly, ^' keeping company with my poor child, 
 whom I would not allow to rise to-day, as we have no 
 fire !" The cardinal instantly sent her assistance, and 
 the next day obtained from the Parliament a subsidy of 
 twenty thousand livres for her. 
 
 On the day of this visit the queen had written an 
 urgent letter to the French ambassador in London to 
 urge him to obtain permission for her to return to Eng- 
 land and share her husband's fate. 
 
 It was during this time (but not till ten days after 
 the fatal event) that Henrietta heard of the execution 
 of that beloved husband. They endeavored to delude 
 her by only mentioning his trial and condemnation, and 
 delay of his execution ; l[)ut when the terrible truth 
 burst forth, '^ she stood,'' says an eye-witness, " motion- 
 less like a statue, without words or tears. To all our 
 exhortations and arguments, our queen was deaf and 
 insensible. At last, awed by her appalling grief, we 
 ceased talking, and stood round her in perturbed 
 silence some sighing, some weeping, all with mournful 
 
126 Queens and Princesses of France 
 
 and sympathizing looks bent on her immovable coun- 
 tenance. So she continued till nightfall, when the 
 Duchess de Yendome, whom our queen tenderly loved, 
 came to see her. She kissed the hand of the royal 
 widow, and at last succeeded in awakening her from 
 the stupor of grief into which she had been plunged 
 since she had comprehended the dreadful death of her 
 husband. She was able to sigh and to weep, and soon 
 expressed a desire to retire from the world, to indulge 
 in the profound sorrow she suffered. Her little daugh- 
 ter w^as with her, and her maternal heart found it hard 
 to separate from her : yet she longed to withdraw into 
 some humble abode, where she might weep at will. At 
 last she resolved to retire with a few of her ladies into 
 the convent of the Carmelites, Faubourg St. Jacques, 
 in Paris.^' 
 
 Directly she entered the convent, she gave herself up 
 to prayer, to mortification, and a course of meditation 
 on the inscrutability of the decrees of God, the incon- 
 stancy and fragility of human life, and of the riches, 
 grandeurs, and honors of this world. 
 
 During this time, as she afterward told her dear 
 nuns at Chaillot, she endured the most deep and poig- 
 nant sorrow; nor could she feel reconciled to the cruel 
 fate of her husband until she had for many days re- 
 peated this prayer: — '^ Lord God, Thou hast permitted 
 it; therefore will I submit myself with all my strength." 
 
Henrietta Maria. 127 
 
 Tills aspiration slie ever afterward used on every trying 
 occasion of her most disastrous life. She left the con- 
 vent only to receive her son, Charles II., who had been 
 obliged to leave the Hague and return to Paris. 
 
 Henrietta's wounds were opened afresh by learning 
 the death of that " budding beauty/^ her daughter 
 Elizabeth, in her fifteenth year. She expired alone, 
 in her prison at Carisbrook Castle, her fair cheek rest- 
 ing on a Bible, which was the last gift of her murdered 
 father, and which had been her only consolation in the 
 last sad months of her life. Now the queen's tender- 
 ness seemed to centre more than ever in her little 
 namesake, Henrietta. She caused her to assist at the 
 catechistical instructions given by Father Cyprian to 
 poor children, in the chapel of the Louvre. The 
 Countess of Morton, (a Protestant,) who still continued 
 governess to the princess, was always present, and the 
 good father wished much to make a convert of this 
 lady. Indeed, she one day said to the princess, " I 
 believe Father Cyprian intends his catechism as much 
 for me as for you.^^ This casual remark did not fall 
 unheeded on the mind of her loving pupil, who imme- 
 diately confided it to her tutor, (the same father;) and 
 he^ who owns that Lady Morton had accurately divined 
 his intentions, was wonderfully encouraged in his hopes. 
 Soon after, the queen being present at his tuition, the 
 little princess, at the end, expressed a great wish that 
 
128 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 every one believed in her religion. '' Since you have 
 so much zeal/^ said the queen, ^^I wonder, my daughter, 
 you do not begin by trying to convert your governess." 
 '* Madame/' replied the little princess, earnestly, " I 
 am doing as much as I can.'^ ^^ And how do you set 
 about it?'' asked the queen. ^^ Madame," replied the 
 princess, in her infantine innocence, '^ I begin by em- 
 bracing my governess. I clasp her round the neck ; 1 
 kiss her a great many times, and then I say, ^ Do be 
 converted, Madame Morton; be a Catholic, Madame 
 Morton : Father Cyprian says you must be a Catholic 
 to be saved, and you have heard him as well as me, 
 Madame Morton : be a Catholic, then, ma bonne dame.' " 
 
 The next gleam of happiness this poor queen re- 
 ceived in the person of her third son, Henry, Duke 
 of Gloucester. But this joy was soon to be followed 
 by the death of her son-in-law, the Prince of Orange, — 
 a severe loss for her family. He was suddenly carried 
 off by small-pox, at the early age of twenty-two, ^leaving 
 his young widow overwhelmed with grief, and in a dan- 
 gerous state of health, just ready to become a mother. 
 She brought forth a posthumous son three days after 
 the death of her husband. This boy, the first grand- 
 child Henrietta had, became William III., the elective 
 King of England. 
 
 After her independent residence at the Louvre was 
 broken up, Queen Henrietta yearned for some private 
 
Henrietta Maria. 129 
 
 home where she could pass her time in perfect quiet. 
 Such a retreat she felt was required for her health and 
 peace of mind. She^ accordingly, took under her pro- 
 tection a very poor community of the Nuns of the 
 Visitation, and settled them in a house at Chaillot, op- 
 posite the Champ de Mars, vfhich she purchased. The 
 queen chose for her own apartments those whose win- 
 dows looked without over Paris. Her reasons were, 
 she said, that she might prevent her ladies from having 
 access to the secluded portions of the convent, lest they 
 might trouble the quiet of the holy sisterhood. In 
 this convent was educated her youngest daughter; and 
 the queen used to tell the nuns that on their prayers 
 and good example she depended for the conversion of 
 the rest of her family. Upon the conversion of her 
 family to the Catholic faith Henrietta had quite set her 
 heart; and no wonder that one so utterly dead to every 
 feeling of worldliness and ambition should wish to 
 bestow upon her children that which she knew to be 
 the most precious gift they could possess. In this 
 desire she was ably seconded by the Eev. Abbe Mon- 
 tague, (brother to Lord Kimbolton,) who himself had 
 become a convert while attached to the embassy at 
 Paris. But the young Prince Henry persisted in ad- 
 hering to the Church of England, to uphold which he 
 had been given to understand his father had laid his 
 I 
 
130 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 head on the block, and to which he had promised that 
 father to remain faithful. 
 
 Though at first the queen was little affected at hear- 
 ing of CromweH's death, not being very saDguine about 
 its immediate consequences, yet, on heariug the first 
 news of the restoration of her son, being at the Palais 
 Royal, she hastened to her nuns at Chaillot, to cheer 
 them with the good tidings. Here she remained till 
 her son, Charles II., paid her a flying visit, incognito, 
 for the purpose of consulting her. The mother and 
 son dined together in the refectory of the convent, the 
 nuns serving them. In the evening the queen assisted 
 at a solemn benediction and Te Deum, in the chapel, 
 in thanksgiving for the restoration. 
 
 Shortly after this, her favorite daughter Henrietta 
 was betrothed to Philip, Duke of Orleans; and, to secure 
 a portion for her, the queen resolved again to seek those 
 shores where her misfortunes began. Her son, the Duke 
 of Yorkj as Lord High Admiral of England, came to 
 Calais to escort her with a fleet of the finest ships in 
 the British navy; and Charles 11. met his royal mother 
 at Dover. The next day being Sunday, High Mass was 
 celebrated for the queen and her Catholic attendants 
 in the great hall of Dover Castle. 
 
 On her return to London, however, the thoughts of 
 Henrietta were soon forced back to those heavy sor- 
 rows which j)rove how little the world is, with all the 
 
Henrietta Maria. 131 
 
 vain distinctions and pomps thereof, to a heart which 
 has once been truly given to an object loved and lost. 
 The transient triumph of her entrance into a metropolis 
 which she had quitted so disastrously was succeeded by 
 feelings of the deepest sorrow^ to which she abandoned 
 herself as if in a long, lasting fit of despair. She shut 
 herself up for hours alone ; and, when her ladies craved 
 admittance, it was found that she had been weeping 
 bitterly. The sight of the apartments where she passed 
 her happy wedded life agonized her : the vicinity to the 
 scene of her husband's death wrung her heart. 
 
 As soon, therefore, as she had settled the business 
 on which she had come, Henrietta returned to France. 
 Soon after her arrival, the marriage between Philip, 
 Duke of Orleans, and her daughter took place, privately, 
 with as little pomp as possible, in the queen^s chapel at 
 the Palais Royal. To her deep sorrow, she found that the 
 duke, a few days after his marriage, insisted on with- 
 drawing his bride to his own residence at Fontainebleau. 
 The queen retired to a chateau at Colombo, on the 
 Seine, where " she led a sweet and easy life, seeking 
 nothing but peace ; declaring that now her Henrietta 
 was settled she had no other care.'' But, having pro- 
 mised to return to England, she soon after took a tender 
 farewell of her darling daughter and crossed from Ca- 
 lais, — not without great danger, which seemed ever to 
 
132 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 attend this unfortunate queen when she trusted herself 
 to the waves. 
 
 She found her son just married to Catharine of Bra- 
 ganza, for whom she conceived a great affection. She 
 resided at her old palace at Somerset House, which had 
 been repaired and beautified in her absence. Every 
 quarter, she dispersed the overplus of her income among 
 the poor, bountifully bestowing, without consideration 
 of difference of religion, her favorite charity, — releasing 
 debtors confined for small sums or for non-payment of 
 fees, likewise sending relief to those who were enduring 
 great hardships in prison. 
 
 But in London her health began visibly to give way 
 ^^God," says one of her chaplains, ^^had given to her 
 generous spirit a frail and delicate body. The dreadful 
 scenes she had passed through in life had exalted her 
 courage and refined the qualities of her mind, but at 
 the same time had sapped and undermined her consti- 
 tution. At last she remembered that the baths at 
 Bourbon had always restored her to health; but she was 
 most unwilling to leave London, lest her chapel should 
 be closed against the Catholic congregation who usually 
 assembled there under her protection. She had a con- 
 ference with her son Charles, and told him she thought 
 she should recover if she went to Bourbon baths, and 
 ahe would do so if he would not close her chapel against 
 his Catholic subjects; hut if it was closed for one day 
 
Henrietta Maria. 133 
 
 on account of Tier departure, she would stay and live as 
 long as it pleased God, and then die at the post of duty. 
 Her son having given his promise to keep the chapel 
 open, she once more, and for the last time, left the 
 country of her adoption, — the royal family accompany- 
 ing her as far as the Nore, whence she was escorted by 
 the Duke of York, who had just returned triumphant 
 from a victory over the Dutch. '' Our queen,^^ says the 
 same chronicler before quoted, " was not destined to see 
 the end of the year 1669. Ever since her return from 
 her last sojourn in London she had labored under 
 complicated maladies, which caused her perpetual in- 
 Bomnolence and intense suffering. From time to time 
 the baths of Bourbon softened these pains, but could not 
 cure them. A consultation of most eminent physicians 
 was held on her state, and they prescribed a medicine 
 to produce sleep. The next day she was found by the 
 lady in attendance insensible. The holy sacraments of 
 Viaticum and Extreme Unction were administered to 
 her, after which she calmly ceased to breathe, on the 
 31st of August, 1669.^' 
 
 The queen^s heart was embalmed, placed in a silver 
 vessel, and deposited with the good nuns of Chaillot. 
 On it was inscribed in Latin, '' Henrietta Maria, Queen 
 of England, France, Scotland, and Ireland, daughter 
 to the French King Henry IV. the Victorious, wife oi 
 
134 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 Charles I. the Martyr, and Mother of Charles II. the 
 Restored. '^ 
 
 King Charles, at the request of his sister Henrietta, 
 afterward sent two thousand pounds to this convent, to 
 enable them to " build a chapel to put therein the pre- 
 cious heart of his beloved id other.' ^ 
 
 The body, also embalmed, after lying in state at Co- 
 lombe and Chaillot, was buried at the place of sepul- 
 ture of her royal ancestors, in the magnificent Abbey 
 of St. Denis, near Paris. The procession commenced 
 from Chaillot an hour after dusk. All the guards of the 
 deceased queen carried torches, and a hundred pages 
 sent by the Queen of France bore each a lighted flam- 
 beau. The niece of the deceased queen. Mademoiselle 
 de Montpensier, followed as chief mourner, attended 
 b}^ the Duchess de Guise. 
 
 Forty days after the death of the queen, a still 
 grander service was performed for her soul (to soothe 
 the grief of her favorite daughter Henrietta) by her 
 grateful nuns at Chaillot. At this function, Bossuet 
 pronounced that grand historical discourse which at 
 once gave him the reputation he has ever since retained 
 of being the first pulpit orator of modern times. It 
 would be out of place to give this brilliant oration here : 
 we will content ourselves (and, we trust, our readers) 
 by quoting the portion of his peroration addressed to 
 the good nuns of Chaillot, in which he alludes to that 
 
Henrietta Maria. 135 
 
 true saying of Henrietta's, that ^^ queens in a state of 
 prosperity are too much tempted to forget the ordinances 
 of God ; hence she thanked Him for having m^ade her 
 unhappy/' 
 
 " But/' said Bossuet, '^ after she had listened to youi 
 consolations, holy maidens, — her inestimable friends, 
 (for so in life she often called you,) — after you had led 
 her to sigh before the altar of her only Protector, then — ; 
 then she could confide to you the consolations she re- 
 ceived from on high; and you can recount her Chris- 
 tian progress, for you have been faithful witnesses 
 How many times has she returned thanks to God ! — for 
 what? (my hearers ask you;) For having restored 
 her son ? No ; but for having rendered her la reine 
 malheureuse. Ah ! I regret the narrow boundaries of 
 the place where I speak. My voice ought to resound 
 to the ends of the wide earth. I would make every 
 ear to hear that her griefs had made her learned in the 
 science of salvation and the efficacy of the cross, when 
 all Christendom were united in sympathy for her unex- 
 ampled sorrows.'' 
 
186 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 INFANTA OF SPAIN, QUEEN OF LOUIS XIV. 
 A.D. 1638--1683. 
 
 AETA TERESA, Infanta of Spain, 
 __ ,^ daughter of Philip lY. and Isabella 
 .%i)^ of France, was born at Madrid, on 
 f^fe the 20th of September, 1638. From 
 ^^^^ the early age of five years, she exhibited 
 a great inclination to piety, which 
 strengthened with her age. To this 
 was added a lively spirit and an extra- 
 ordinary aptness for study, which ren- 
 dered her one of the most accompliished princesses of 
 the day. 
 
 The intended marriage of Louis XI Y. having been 
 broken off, the hand of Maria Teresa was demanded 
 for the young King of France. The marriage took 
 place on the 9th of June, 1660, in the church of St. 
 John de Suz, the Bishop of Bayonne officiating, in the 
 
Maria Teresa of Austria. 137 
 
 presence of Anne of Austria, Cardinal Mazarin, Prince 
 de Conto, and a royal train of knights and ladies. 
 Contemporary writers assert that the young queen's 
 beauty was rather of a pleasing than a high order: she 
 was fair, but her features were irregular. Her youth, 
 and the sweetness, grace, and elegance of her manners, 
 won every heart. The royal progress to Paris was a 
 series of triumphs, and the decorations of the capital 
 to welcome the royal pair fill pages of description in 
 the faithful chronicles of the time. The royal cortlge 
 had to wait a day at Vincennes until the good people 
 of Paris had completed their preparations. On the 
 day after the king's /(^.^e, or Patron-Saints^ day, he left 
 this castle, robed in the most magnificent attire. His 
 dress was of cloth-of-gold, with silver embroidery, and 
 covered with pearls and precious stones. He was 
 mounted on a Spanish horse, whose trappings were also 
 inlaid with pearls. The queen followed him in an open 
 chariot lined with gold and silver work. Her dress 
 was covered with gold and precious stones, and shp 
 wore the crown-jewels. On reaching the Faubourg of 
 St. Anthony, the Chancellor of Paris addressed a warm 
 welcome to the royal couple, who proceeded through a 
 dense population, who rent the air with their accla- 
 mations. 
 
 At this period, France was rich and powerful, hei 
 royal family were united, the nation happy and con- 
 
138 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 tented, and piety flourished beside the arts and sciences; 
 the noblest examples of virtue and religious zeal were 
 to be admired in a St. Vincent de Paul, a Bossuet, and 
 a Fenelon. Happier than Anne of Austria had been, 
 Maria Teresa found in her husband's mother an affec- 
 tionate and indulgent counseller. 
 
 Louis XIV. now reigned by himself. Anne might 
 be justly proud of such a son, and Maria Teresa of such 
 a husband. The birth of a dauphin now came to crown 
 their joy. While feasting, balls, carnivals, and every 
 possible demonstration of public rejoicing were taking 
 place to celebrate this event, the queen very rarely took 
 any part in them, but spent her time in acts of piety 
 and charity, and in the company of the queen-mother, 
 for whom she entertained the most devoted affection. 
 
 But she was now doomed to have her domestic feli- 
 city troubled by the assiduous attention of Louis XIV. 
 toward the young Duchess of Orleans, Henrietta of 
 England, (daughter of the unfortunate Charles I.) 
 Unwilling to believe that she had lost the king's affec- 
 tion, though she could not but be aware of his infideli- 
 ties, Anne reproached her son in secret, and counselled 
 her daughter-in-law to act with such prudence and 
 mildness as to secure at least the king's esteem for lier. 
 In accordance with this sage advice, Maria wept in 
 silence, nor ventured to make the least reproach to her 
 ungrateful husband, or even to show by her weakness 
 
Maria Teresa of Austria. 139 
 
 in his presence how keenly she felt his conduct. She 
 unfortunately had about her courtiers who were not 
 equally prudent, and who took care to keep the queen 
 well informed of the king's doings. 
 
 It was thus she heard of the king's pursuit of the 
 gentle De la Yalliere, who sought protection from the 
 king'fe passion and her own weakness in the convent of 
 Chaillot. The queen hoped that the king would re- 
 spect this sacred asylum of virtue ; but the moment she 
 heard of his intention to seek the object of his perse- 
 cution and drag her from the cloister, she tried in vain 
 to dissuade him. Her grief at his conduct threw her 
 on a bed of sickness, during which the king showed 
 her some attentions. One day, while seated at her 
 bedside, his tears flowed in spite of his endeavor to re- 
 strain them. One of the queen^s attendants, on seeing 
 them, exclaimed, ^^Ah, sire! why try to conceal those 
 tears ? are they not the best medicine to restore our be- 
 loved queen to her health V^ 
 
 On recovering from her illness Maria Teresa seemed 
 to have acquired new strength. She made a complete 
 sacrifice of her feelings, and devoted herself with the 
 greatest assiduity to the care and education of her chil- 
 dren, exercises of devotion, and charitable actions. 
 Like other pious queens of France, she loved to retire 
 to a quiet monastic solitude at times, when she found 
 her grief so overpowering as to need the especial con- 
 
140 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 solation of religion. On these occasions slie generally 
 gave the preference to the Carmelite convents. It is 
 said that one day the superioress of a convent in which 
 she was making a retreat was aiding her in the exami- 
 nation of her conscience, and asked her whether while 
 in her father's court at Madrid she had never listened 
 to the homage alid flattery of suitors. " How could 
 I?" answered the queen : '^ there were no kings there." 
 
 The death of the king's mother in 1666 was a deep 
 blow to Maria, who had found so excellent and affec- 
 tionate a relative in her. The death of her father soon 
 followed, and she had scarcely recovered from these 
 severe losses when the rupture between France and 
 Spain came to cause new griefs. Happily, this was 
 soon ended. 
 
 In 1683 the queen fell ill of a fever, which at first 
 did not present any dangerous symptoms. But after 
 some time it became evident that she was on her death- 
 bed. Her last moments were most edifying to a court 
 to which she had always given the most exemplary pat- 
 tern of virtue. To the end she retained the greatest 
 aff'ection for the king, and seemed quite to rally after 
 he had said some affectionate words to her in Spanish. 
 Louis XIV. seemed touched by the great contrast his 
 faithful wife's constancy presented to his owm career, 
 and after her death exclaimed to those around him, 
 " Alas 1 this is the first grief she has ever caused me !" 
 
Maria Teresa of Austria. 141 
 
 What a complete eulogy was contained in these few 
 words, and how well was it merited ! 
 
 The body of this queen, clothed in a Franciscan 
 habit, was buried at St. Denis with great state. Bossuet 
 pronounced the funeral discourse, in which he deeply 
 moved his audience by the simple narration of her 
 modest virtues. 
 
 Maria Teresa is said to have had an exquisite charm 
 in her manners; an angelic sweetness and generous 
 goodness of heart were her great characteristics. Her 
 mind, naturally of a solid disposition, was adorned with 
 every accomplishment a queen could desire, and an 
 amiable modesty was perceptible in all her actions. 
 She never interfered with state matters, being a great 
 enemy to all intrigue. To serve God, please and love 
 her husband, and bring up her children in virtue and 
 wisdom, were the noble objects of the wedded life of 
 Maria Teresa, 
 
142 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 
 PRINCESS OF POLAND, QUEEN OF LOUIS XV. 
 
 A.D. 1703—1768. 
 
 AEY LECZINSKA, daughter of 
 Stanislaus Leczinska, King of Po- 
 land, was born amidst the vicissitudes 
 which beset the career of her un- 
 fortunate father. It would seem that 
 a special providence watched over and 
 preserved her infancy from the in- 
 numerable dangers to which it was 
 exposed. While she was yet in the 
 cradle, some officers of her household, being pursued by 
 the enemy, took to flight, forgetting in their haste the 
 jj^oung princess. After having ridden some miles from 
 the house, they perceived their neglect, and rode back 
 to repair it. The child was gone. They threatened the 
 master of the house in which they had lodged, and were 
 about to set fire to his prc»3erty, when some soldiers who 
 had strolled into the stable-yard found the little princess 
 
Mary Leczinska. 143 
 
 asleep io a trough, smiling, unconscious of the danger 
 that menaced it. 
 
 Three years later, at the attack on the castle of Posen, 
 surprised by the Russians, her attendants had scarcely 
 time to carry the princess by a subterranean passage to 
 a neighboring village, where a peasant kept her con- 
 cealed in a kneading-trough. This circumstance made 
 a deep impression on the mind of the young princess, 
 who used frequently to relate it, with the greatest 
 minuteness, in after-life. 
 
 When Stanislaus lost all hope of retaining the king- 
 dom of Poland, he asked an asylum in France of the 
 Duke of Orleans, the regent. In reply to the King of 
 Saxony, who wished him to deny this request, '^ France,' ' 
 said he, ^' has ever been the asylum of unfortunate 
 princes. '^ A remark which, in latter times, will apply 
 with more truth to our own country. 
 
 The King of Poland lived at Weissembourg, under 
 the protection of the King of France. He there, as 
 everywhere else, became endeared to the people by the 
 goodness and charitableness of his nature. During this 
 time Mary Leczinska grew up under the fostering care 
 of her parents, and gave promise of those admirable 
 qualities which distinguished her through life. Her 
 grandmother, the Countess Leczinska, her father and 
 mother, and a governess, devoted themselves to her 
 instruction and improvement. Under such instructors, 
 
144 Queens and Princesses of France 
 
 her mind became adorned witli learning fitted for a prin 
 cess, and her heart became possessed of those virtues 
 which their example so constantly afibrded her means 
 of imitation, and she practised them in such a way as to 
 draw down upon her the blessings of the poor. No case 
 of misery was ever related to the princess without her 
 endeavoring to soothe its pangs, if she could not entirely 
 cure it. One day, as she gave the only piece of money 
 left in her purse to a poor woman who implored her 
 charity, the object of her solicitude thanked her, saying, 
 with an air of inspiration, '^ God will bless you : you 
 will he Queen of France !" Mary smiled at this burst 
 of enthusiasm; the poor exiled princess could not, even 
 in a dream, conceive the realization of such a thought. 
 Louis XY. was betrothed to the Infanta Margaret, who 
 was being brought up at the court : how could he pos- 
 sibly break this powerful alliance, to marry the daughter 
 of a dethroned monarch ? The regent, however, died, 
 and his place was filled by the Duke de Bourbon. The 
 political reasons for choosing an alliance with Spain no 
 longer existed, and the extreme youth of Margaret (she 
 was only eight years of age) seemed to forbid it. 
 Neither did it accord with the ambitious views of 
 Madame de Prie, the duke's favorite, who felt that if 
 she selected a wife for the king, the person chosen 
 would be under such obligations to her as would secure 
 her constant protection. She at first thought of Made- 
 
Mary Leczinska. 145 
 
 moiselle de Vermandois, tlie duke's sister ; but this lady 
 opposed her views. She thea drew the duke's attention 
 toward Mary Leczinska, and, thanks to the machina- 
 tions of an ambitious minister and an intriguing woman, 
 the pure and pious Mary was to be seated on the first 
 throne in Europe, and the prophecy of the poor recipient 
 of her bounty was to be fulfilled. 
 
 Stanislaus, at the first proposal of a subject which so 
 far exceeded his most sanguine imagination, entered 
 joyfully into his daughter's room, saying, ^* Ah, my 
 child, let us fall on our knees and thank God.^^ '' For 
 what, father V^ asked the pious daughter, whose first 
 thought was for her parent : " are you recalled to the 
 throne of Poland?^' *^No,^' replied the equally dis- 
 interested father. '^ Heaven is more propitious to us. 
 Daughter, you are Queen of France !'^ 
 
 The marriage took place at Strasbourg, on the 14th 
 of August, 1725, the Duke of Orleans, son of the 
 regent, being proxy for the king. 
 
 On the eve of her departure, Mary entered her 
 father's apartment, and begged his blessing on her 
 knees. Stanislaus, deeply moved, said, — 
 
 " May Jesus, Mary, and Joseph watch constantly 
 over my beloved daughter. 
 
 " In the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the 
 Holy Ghost, may she have a part in the blessing which 
 K 13 
 
146 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 the hoi J patriarch Jacob gave to his son when he learned 
 that he was alive, and Governor of Egypt. 
 
 " May she have part in the blessing which Jesus 
 Christ gave His beloved mother when He said, ' Peace 
 be to you/ Amen/' 
 
 Her mother and grandmother also blessed her, and 
 expressed the most ardent wishes for her happiness. 
 Mary left for Paris. She was everywhere greeted with 
 the most enthusiastic applause and respect. In the 
 following (the first of the many charming letters which 
 she wrote to her parents) she gives her father an ac- 
 count of her progress : — 
 
 " Ah, my dearest papa, what a time it seems since I 
 parted from you the day before yesterday ! These good 
 French people leave nothing undone to amuse me and 
 keep me from regretting those I leave. Though they 
 say of me the finest things in the world, no one says 
 that you are near me. They may perhaps tell me this, 
 for I am travelling in fairy-land, and I am quite under 
 their magic power. I undergo hourly the most extra- 
 ordinary metamorphoses; at one time I am fairer than 
 the graces, at another I am one of the nine sisters; 
 here I have the virtues of an angel, and the sight of me 
 (to believe them) makes them happy. Yesterday I was 
 the wonder of the world ; to-day I am a star of the most 
 auspicious kind. Each one tries to surpass the other in 
 his eulogies, and I doubt not but that to-morrow I shall 
 
Mary Leczinska. 147 
 
 be placed liigli above these immortals. In order to re- 
 mind myself of who I really am, I place my hand on my 
 head, and I find her whom you love, and who loves you 
 most tenderly, — ^your own dear Marichna/'* 
 
 After the solemnization of the nuptials at Fontaine- 
 bleau, the king offering her the usual royal presents, 
 she said, '^ I receive them willingly, sire; but, having 
 the most precious gift of your heart, which you have 
 bestowed upon me, I beg of you to allow me to dis- 
 tribute these gifts among those who witness my happi- 
 ness/' She accordingly, with great sweetness and 
 modesty, distributed them to the ladies in waiting. 
 
 Diffident of herself, she asked her father's advice. 
 ^^ I hope, my dear papa,'^ she wrote, '' that you will not 
 let me wait long for what you have promised me. Fix 
 clearly all my duties; tell me all I ought to do. You 
 know me better than I know myself; be my guardian 
 angel. I am confident in following your advice not to 
 go astray; but I know not what I shall do if I rely 
 only on my poor little head. It appears to me that 
 I am well liked here. I do not judge by all the flat- 
 tery which is heaped upon me; but I seem to see joy 
 imprinted on the countenances of those I come near; 
 and I also feel the same sentiment myself on approach- 
 ing them. May our good God be praised for all he has 
 
 * Polish diminutive, meaning "little Mary." 
 
148 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 done for us ! I am sure, my dear papa, you pray for the 
 king and myself.'^ 
 
 In sending the counsels she asked, Stanislaus thus 
 concluded his letter : — '' My dear daughter, I praise 
 God that I find nothing to regulate or correct in you 
 but your virtues. You may easily carry them to that 
 excess that may lead you to do them from love of ad- 
 miration. Do the best your strength will permit; but 
 learn when to stop. Excess in vice makes it still more 
 insupportable; in virtue, makes it more difficult to 
 practise/' 
 
 The first years of their union presented a spectacle 
 of conjugal afi'ection which base courtiers endeavored 
 in vain to interrupt. '' I find the queen more beauti- 
 ful,'' was the reply of Louis, when his attention was 
 directed to any court beauty. The birth of a daughter 
 came to cement this union. His courtiers wished the 
 king to be disappointed at not having a son. " You 
 would not have a dauphin for the first V^ he gayly re- 
 plied. The dauphin was the queen's third child. The 
 interior of the royal family was a most moving scene. 
 To behold the king playing with his children in the 
 queen's apartment, making them ride across his gold- 
 headed cane, and to hear the gay and innocent clatter 
 of her little ones, were the queen's great joy and happi- 
 ness. Her leisure moments were devoted to study, de- 
 votion, and to works of piety. Her constant charity 
 
Mary Leczinska. 149 
 
 ^o fclie poor obtained for her the name of '^ the goo<l 
 queen/' Whenever she appeared in public she was 
 greeted by the acclamations and the blessings of the 
 people. She was, one day, walking in the gardens of 
 the Tuileries, and so great was the desire of the people 
 to see her that, before she was aware of it, she was 
 surrounded, and could neither advance nor retire. Her 
 attendants tried to force a way for her; but in vain. 
 The queen then said, ^^ I think, my children, it is for 
 the pleasure of seeing me, and to show your love to 
 me, that you press around me so: if it be so, make 
 way, 1 beg of you, and do not stifle me.'' The crowd 
 immediately divided, and left the queen a free egress, 
 amidst shouts of joy. 
 
 But it was particularly at Versailles and at Com- 
 piegne, where she was best known, that the queen was 
 adored. The day of her arrival was celebrated as a 
 feast, the day of her departure as one of mourning 
 and of tears. ^^ Why is it," she said, one day, ^Hhat I 
 cannot leave Compiegne without seeing everybody in 
 tears? I sometimes ask myself what I can have done 
 to these people, whom I do not even know, to make 
 them love me so. They at least give me credit for my 
 desires in their regard." 
 
 One day, seeing a poor woman passing laden with a 
 heavy bundle of wood, she called her, and said, 
 smilingly, " Do you know the queen V '^Alas 1 madame, 
 
150 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 Lave not that happiness/' replied the poor creature. 
 '^ Here, take this purse, then, and be submissive to 
 (jlod's holy will, and He will bless you/^ The woman 
 threw down her load, and, falling on her knees, ex- 
 claimed, " Oh, you must be our ' good queen' your- 
 self T' 
 
 When she had no money at her disposal, she sold 
 her jewels to relieve the necessities of her poor neigh- 
 bors. During a year of great distress, the queen 
 pawned all her jewels, and wore false ones. She so 
 disposed her time as to find means to devote some to 
 every one. Few princesses have been better in- 
 structed : to other useful and pleasing accomplish- 
 ments, she added a knowledge of six languages,— 
 Polish, French, Italian, German, Swedish, and Latin. 
 She surprised the literary men of her court by the 
 depth of her knowledge and the resources of her 
 mind. The grace and wit of her replies show a fine 
 soul, and a deep knowledge of mankind. *^ AVork has 
 so weakened me for some time,'' said Cardinal Fleury 
 one day, " that I shall lose my head." " Take care not 
 to do that," said the queen ; " for I much question 
 whether anybody who should find such a very useful 
 article of furniture would give it up again." Presi- 
 dent Henault showed her some lines which Fontencllo, 
 then in his ninety-third year, had just written, *^ On the 
 Respect paid by the Spartans to Old Age." ^^The 
 
Mary Leczinska. 151 
 
 old man who wrote these verses," said the queen, 
 ^^ should find Sparta everywhere." 
 
 There was a poor old maiden lady at Fontainebleau 
 who assisted the queen in her works of charity, but 
 whose old-fashioned and extremely modest style of 
 dress exposed her to the ridicule of the ladies of the 
 court. The queen defended her, and said to her, ^^ I 
 love you, as you are my ^ brilliant^ one : believe me, 
 you may laugh at those who ridicule your dress ; for I, 
 for my part, find it very becoming to you." Ever after- 
 ward this person bore the name of ^' the brilliant," 
 which the queen had given her. 
 
 Mary thus passed happily sixteen years of her life; 
 for the coolness of the king toward her at the com- 
 mencement of Fleury's ministry had been of short 
 duration ] and an illness, which was thought dangerous, 
 brought back all his tenderness and devotion. The 
 virtues and conduct of her children were so exemplary 
 that they obtained for her the enviable title of "the 
 happy mother." Another source of happiness to the 
 queen was the deference of Louis toward her father. 
 He had given this prince the castle of Chamber d, 
 (where the queen's oratory is still seen,) and Mary 
 enjoyed the happiness of often seeing her beloved 
 parent, who spent his time between Chambord and 
 Meudon. 
 
 The king, having gone to Metz to take the command 
 
152 Queens and Princesses or France. 
 
 of his army, fell ill, and for some days his life was 
 despaired of. The queen flew to him, and was every- 
 where greeted with the amplest testimony of the love 
 and affection of her people that queen could desire. 
 France, which at the news of his illness had flocked to 
 the churches and with tears prayed for his recovery, 
 celebrated his return of health with extraordinary signs 
 of joy. " What have I done to be so beloved ?'' asked 
 the king, deeply moved by these popular demonstra- 
 tions. Well would it have been for him and his 
 country had he continued to justify the title of ^' well- 
 beloved/' which was given to him. The queen, after 
 in vain trying to bring him to his duty, spoke no more 
 to him, but to God. She passed her time entirely in 
 the company of her children. The dauphin was espe- 
 cially attached to his mother, to whom he owed all his 
 virtues. Mary called him her " Barnabas.^^ '^ Why 
 do you give me this name?'' asked the little prince. 
 "It is because ^Barnabas' means son of consolation, my 
 son,'' she replied. 
 
 Never did queen so assiduously cultivate the ma- 
 ternal and filial affections as Mary Leczinska. She was 
 the best of mothers and the tenderest of daughters. 
 "Why, dear papa,'' she writes to Stanislaus, " express any 
 doubts about your journey? The king desires and ex- 
 pects you. I think also how you will grieve all my 
 children if you do not come. I will not urge you on my 
 
Mary Leczinska. i53 
 
 own account^ for I think I shall move you more by 
 speaking of them. Would you believe, dear papa, that 
 my son thinks that I am jealous of the love you bear 
 him? I told him he was wrong, and that I submitted 
 willingly to the law of nature, which has ruled that 
 parents should love their grandchildren more even than 
 their own children. As I am writing of my son, I 
 will tell you what he says of you. He says, ' you are 
 the best dictionary he knows of; and his regret is that 
 while you are here he has not sufficient time to turn 
 over your leaves at his ease/ As for myself, dear 
 papa, who do not stand in the same need of learning 
 as my son, I will give up to him the rest of the dic- 
 tionary when I come to the word ' hearty when I shall 
 find all I want.^' 
 
 '^ Do you know, dear mamma/' said the dauphin, one 
 day, '- that you will ofiend Saint Teresa ? You are 
 more fervent and longer at your prayers than the most 
 austere Carmelite. '^ " It is,'' replied the queen, 
 ^' because my wants are more extensive than those of 
 these holy virgins; they are continually with God, 
 while I am always with the world.'' '^ You are right, 
 mamma ; the trifles of this miserable world take up so 
 much of our time and attention, that we only pray to 
 God, as it were, by parenthesis,^^ 
 
 The dauphin found in his first wife, the infanta 
 Maria Teresa, a love for retirement and prayer. This 
 
154 Queens and Princesses op France. 
 
 taste exactly corresponded with the excellent education 
 he had received. The queen was delighted with her 
 daughter-in-law, but a short illness carried this princess 
 off in the year after her marriage. Though the 
 dauphin's grief was most poignant, he was obliged to 
 consent to a new union. The choice of the court fell 
 upon Mary Joseph of Saxony. This princess was the 
 daughter and grand-daughter of kings who had de- 
 throned Stanislaus. The queen's religious feeling and 
 her natural goodness of heart forbade her to show 
 toward this princess any unjust resentment for her 
 parent's injury, and the sweetness of disposition of 
 Mary Joseph soon caused all painful recollections to 
 die away. The third day after her marriage, court 
 etiquette obliged the dauphiness to wear the portrait of 
 her father on her arm. When she appeared, no one 
 dared to examine this ornament, but the queen, making 
 a strong effort over herself, said, ^' This, my daughter, 
 is the portrait of your father ?'^ '^ See, madame, what 
 a good likeness it is," replied the princess. The queen, 
 on looking at it, found it was the portrait of her own 
 father; she pressed the hand of her daughter-in-law 
 with a sweet smile, and was ever after much attached 
 to her. Heaven blessed this union with five children. 
 Ten years passed, and the dauphin's family afforded a 
 refuge for the virtues driven out of the court of Louis 
 XV. He recalled to the mind of the French people 
 
Mary Leczinska. 155 
 
 that Duke of Burgundy, tlie pupil of Fenelon, who 
 had left such a cherished memory. But, too like the 
 Duke of Burgundy, the son of Mary Leczinska was 
 called out of this world before his father's death, and 
 the heart of the queen was tried by griefs under which 
 she would have sunk had she not been sustained by her 
 faith, and her strong religious resignation. 
 
 She had already wept over the remains of one of her 
 daughters, Henrietta of France, a model of sweetness^ 
 filial tenderness, and piety. The Duke of Burgundy, 
 the dauphin's son, died at the age of ten years, from 
 the consequences of a blow he had received, in playing, 
 from one of his companions, and the effects of which 
 he had concealed from fear of his playmate being 
 punished. Louis XY. wept bitterly over this child, 
 who had given the brightest hopes. Scarcely was he 
 buried, when the dauphin himself was seized with an 
 alarming illnesss. For a year were all the cares of 
 affection and the best skill lavished on him. The 
 devotedness of the dauphiness to him was so great that 
 one of the physicians, who had not seen her before, 
 asked the name of '' that invaluable little nurse who 
 attended on the dauphin so assiduously/' The queen 
 watched with her daughter-in-law, but she could not 
 keep her sobs from disturbing him. ^^ What ! mamma,'' 
 would the dauphin exclaim, ^' you cannot doubt that the 
 kingdom of heaven is worth all the kingdoms of thig 
 
156 Queens and Princesses or Fbance. 
 
 earth ; ana yet I find you so dejected, since you know tliat 
 I must quit this world/' " Alas ! my son," was her reply, 
 *^ I scarce know w^hether I weep more with sorrow at 
 losing you, or with joy at your perfect resignation at 
 leaving us/' " Well, mamma, let it be with joy; for I 
 assure you it is a source of joy to me to think I shall 
 not live long in this world/' ^' How happy is he!'' 
 said the queen, while assisting at his last moments ; 
 "• he dies like a saint \ but we are much to be pitied for 
 our loss/' 
 
 The young dauphiness caught her husband's com- 
 plaint, and soon followed him to the tomb, imploring 
 of the queen to take charge of their children. Mary 
 Leczinska now also had to cheer the last days of her 
 aged father. She had sent him at the beginning of 
 winter a padded great-coat, which caught fire while the 
 king was asleep in his arm-chair. Always good and 
 considerate, the old king wrote himself to give an 
 account of this accident to his daughter. He even 
 tried to relate it with an air of gayety, and concluded 
 by saying, ^^ But my consolation is, m}^ dear daughter, 
 that I burn for you/' This was the last letter that the 
 queen received from her father; his age aggravated 
 the effects of the burns, and he died a few days after 
 the accident. 
 
 The separation from so many of the dearest ties 
 which bound her to this world still found Mary 
 
Mary Leczinska. 157 
 
 Leczinska submissive to the decrees of Divine Provi- 
 dence; but her losses made a sensible impression upon 
 her delicate frame, and she passed two years in a state 
 of great weakness and suffering. Those who attended 
 her, however, never perceived the least change in her 
 humor — ever the same sweetness and affability in her 
 manner. Her sight had begun to fail her when she re- 
 ceived a visit from a gentleman for whom she enter- 
 tained an especial regard, he having been the inti- 
 mate friend of her father. She did not recognise him, 
 and on being told his name, " What, is it you, M. de 
 Soupir?'' said she. ^^ I ask your pardon; but believe 
 me, I should not have failed to know you if I could 
 see with the heart.'^ 
 
 " Grive me back my father and children,^^ said she 
 sorrowfully to those who begged her to pay greatei 
 attention to her health, " and then you may cure me.'^ 
 She said her sufferings were small when compared with 
 those the dauphin had experienced. '^ One of the 
 graces for which I thank God is that of being able tc 
 recollect the great example my son has left me/' she 
 was accustomed to repeat frequently in her last illness. 
 
 The king paid some attention to his wife during hci 
 illness, visiting her several times a day. The peoplf 
 besieged the gates of the palace daily to learn the stat^ 
 of the queen's health. Sometimes the king would pre- 
 sent himself to them, and answer their eager inquiries 
 
158 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 himself. In Paris and the provinces the churches were 
 crowded by the people, praying for their '^ good queen/' 
 " See how she is beloved !" cried the king one day, 
 with deep emotion. 
 
 On the 24th of June, 1768, the queen, while reciting 
 her rosary, felt the shock of death. The king held her 
 in his arms, and she quietly, and without any agony, 
 yielded her pure soul into the hands of God. She had 
 lived sixty-five years, and reigned forty-three. The 
 king, who had of late years caused her so much anguish, 
 knelt by her remains, which he incessantly embraced, 
 as if he had hoped to be thus able, says Capefigue, ^^ to 
 imprint on his soul some small portion of her sanctity/' 
 
Louisa Maria or France. 
 
 159 
 
 3oiiha Jltai[ia of c^ranx^, 
 
 DAUGHTER OF LOUIS XV. 
 
 A.D. 1737—1787. 
 
 r^i^ 
 
 OUISA MARIA of France was born at 
 Versailles on the 15tli of July, 1737, of 
 Maria Leczinska, (][ueen of Louis XV. 
 While very young she accompanied her 
 sisters, Mesdames Victoria and Sophia, 
 to the Abbey of Fontevrault, where she 
 was confided to the care of Madame de 
 Soutlanges, one of the religious. 
 This young princess showed a great 
 vivacity of temperament, which manifested itself in 
 her face, in her behavior and actions, but still more in 
 her words. There was, however, no fear that this ex- 
 treme liveliness would degenerate into giddiness. She 
 had a very discerning mind, and a prudent bearing 
 above her age. She was rarely deceived m the esti- 
 mation of the character and qualities of the persons 
 with whom she came in contact. She had a great 
 
160 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 inclination to see the ridiculous part of a person's cha- 
 racter, and amuse herself and others with it. But as 
 soon as she was taught the error and danger of in- 
 dulging this propensity, she endeavored to abstain from 
 doing so, except in a trifling and innocent manner. But 
 if on these occasions she let slip any word or expression 
 which she thought gave offence, she immediately ex- 
 pressed her sorrow for it, and asked forgiveness. 
 
 One of her attendants, who had lost an eye, re- 
 proached the princess one day for an action of which 
 she was not guilty. '^ If you could use both your eyes/^ 
 said the young Louisa, " you would not perhaps see me 
 do what I am not doing." " I can see enough with 
 one eye,'^ replied the lady, '' to know that you are very 
 proud.'' Instead of being angry at this rebuke, she 
 came toward her attendant and said, in a submissive 
 voice, '^ You are quite right : it is only through pride 
 that I speak thus to you. Will you forgive me ? But 
 I must also confess it, and ask pardon of God, or I shall 
 not be pardoned." 
 
 This vice, indeed, seemed the only one to which the 
 young princess was in any way attached, and which 
 was found most difficult to root out of her disposition. 
 Knowing the ceremonial usually followed in respect to 
 the princesses of France, she insisted on its being car- 
 ried out, in her regard, with the greatest exactness. 
 One day her governess, having observed that she was 
 
Louisa Maria of France. 161 
 
 remarkably hauglity in her behavior to her attendants, 
 told them to sit down when the princess drank, — which 
 was contrary to court etiquette. As soon as she per- 
 ceived they continued sitting, the princess ceased drink- 
 ing and said, '^Up, ladies! Madame Louisa is drink- 
 ing.'^ Madame Soutlanges, in the same air, replied, 
 '' Madame Louisa may drink on, but her attendants 
 will remain seated, because they have been requested 
 to forget that she is a princess, as often as she forgets 
 that she is one herself, and ought not to be haughty or 
 imperious with those whose services she receives.'' 
 
 All who waited on her received the same instruc- 
 tions to be firm and not to give way to her caprices. A 
 lady, who was working in her room, having resisted her 
 on one of these occasions, the princess asked her if she 
 were not the daughter of her king. '' And am not I, 
 madame, the daughter of your God?" was the quiet 
 rejoinder. Struck by this answer, the young Louisa 
 answered, '^ You are right, madame, and I am wrong. 
 I ask your pardon.'^ The readiness with which the 
 princess recognised her faults and expressed her sorrow 
 for them with such inimitable candor was a source of 
 great satisfaction to her governess. 
 
 The religious education which Madame Louisa re- 
 ceived had imbued her mind with an earnest impression 
 of divine truths ; and as soon as she felt them speaking 
 to her soul she ceased not a moment to put them in 
 L 
 
162 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 practice. She was fond of assisting at the divine office 
 and functions of the Church, never complaining of 
 their length, but behaving with the greatest devotion. 
 One day, when praying alone in her oratory, she said to 
 the attendant, '^ Kneel down and pray with me ; for 
 " then our Lord will be in the midst of us/' Touching 
 instance of the great fruit the princess reaped from her 
 religious education. 
 
 When she had reached the usual age for approaching 
 the sacrament of Penance, she prepared for it with 
 unusua! care ; and, on being told that she was too long 
 in examining her conscience, she replied by saying that 
 she felt she ought to do so important a work in the best 
 manner she was able. This natural distrust of herself 
 led her to delay making her first communion, notwith- 
 standing the great desire she had to approach the holy 
 table. And it was not until after she had been ear- 
 nestly and frequently exhorted and comforted by the 
 consoling words of her confessor that she prepared for 
 this great work. She made it in the most edifying 
 manner, and with such deep sentiments of piety as to 
 excite the general admiration of all who beheld her. 
 After this period, till her departure from Fontevrault, 
 some years later, she merited, by the general edification 
 of her conduct and her exact performance of all her 
 duties, to be proposed as a model to all the young per 
 sons of quality who were educated there. 
 
Louisa Maria of France. 163 
 
 The princess appeared at court in her fourteenth 
 year, having quitted, with deep regret, the holy asylum 
 where her infant and youthful years had been spent in 
 the acquisition of knowledge and of virtue. But in 
 the dangerous and alluring scenes of courtly life she 
 did not belie the hopes entertained of her by her early 
 instructors. Her conduct was so exact and regular as 
 to delight her good mother, — that holy queen whose 
 rare virtues were the praise of all her kingdom. 
 
 In the midst of the frivolous and pompous cere- 
 monies of state, Louisa continued firm in the exact 
 performance of religious exercises, especially meditation 
 on the truths of salvation and the participation in the 
 sacraments ; and this conduct doubtless obtained for her 
 the graces with which she was so abundantly filled. 
 She often thought that, in order to please the world, 
 she was obliged to make many sacrifices of which God 
 would take no account. While admiring how the 
 queen, who bad great and high duties to perform, which 
 she never neglected, still led in the midst of a court the 
 life of a saint, she would have wished ever to have 
 been at the queen's side ] but the usages of court eti- 
 quette prevented her from enjoying this gratification. 
 
 Louisa did not enter into the amusements of the 
 court with any spirit. If she played at cards, she in- 
 variably lost through not being able to devote her en- 
 tire attention to the game. She was, however, very 
 
IGl Queens and Princesses of France 
 
 fond of active sports, and frequently accompanied hci 
 royal father to the hunt. On one occasion, while hunt- 
 ing with the king in the forest of Compiegne^ her 
 horse reared suddenly and threw her some twenty paces 
 on to the high-road^ and nearly under the wheels of a 
 carriage which was being driven furiously. By what 
 the princess ever deemed a miracle, she escaped both 
 these dangers, and, without appearing alarmed, wished 
 to continue the hunt. In vain did her attendants beg 
 of her to return to the chateau in a carriage ; she 
 ordered her steed to be brought to her, and, vaulting 
 upon him, followed the stag. On her return to the 
 chateau, she told her adventure to a lady in waiting, 
 saying, *^ Thank our good Lady with me, for I again 
 owe her my life. My sister's carriage was within a 
 hair's breadth of runnins* over me. I called on our 
 Blessed Lady ; I rose, and here I am." It was thus 
 that in her most lively moments she ever spoke the 
 lan^'uage of piety. 
 
 The death of her sister Madame Henrietta, who had 
 been all her life the faithful imitator of the queen's 
 virtues, made a deep impression on the mind of Louisa. 
 *' Oh that I may die as happy as she I" wrote this prin- 
 cess y " but my life has not been as free from faults as 
 hers ; and I must begin to live better, if I would die 
 like her." 
 
 *^ It was about this time," she continues. ^' that the 
 
Louisa Maria of France. 165 
 
 Countess of Roupelmonde left tlie court and retired to 
 the Carmelites in the Rue de Grrenelle. At first this 
 step made a very slight impression upon me, because 
 everybody said she would not remain there; but ^every- 
 body^ was mistaken. After the ordinary noviceship, 
 the countess took the veil. The queen, who omitted 
 no opportunity of affording us edification, took us to 
 her profession. Besides, she was greatly attached to 
 the countess, who had been one of her favorite ladies- 
 in-waiting. She was a young and rich widow, with 
 every accomplishment to please in the world. The 
 generous sacrifice, at which I assisted, caused me to 
 think deeply on the importance of salvation and the 
 nothingness of this life. ' Here,^ said I to myself, '■ is 
 true courage : this is to take heaven by violence.' 
 
 ^^ I was then in my sixteenth year. Ere I quitted 
 the church, I took the resolution of daily asking the 
 Almighty to give me strength to break the chains which 
 attached me to earth, and to enable me one day to 
 become, if not a Carmelite, (for I had not courage to 
 wish for that,) at least a religious in a well-ordered 
 house. For during my long-tried vocation I always 
 feared going to some lax house ; for it would hardly be 
 worth taking all that trouble to lose one's soul in a con- 
 vent. 
 
 '' I aftirward gathered some information of the par- 
 ticulars of the life led by the Carmelites; and, still 
 
166 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 Tritliout having any express wish as to the order I should 
 embrace, I felt inclined toward theirs, unless insur- 
 mountable obstacles should close their doors to me/' 
 
 Madame Louisa made her desire known to the Arch- 
 bishop of Paris, who, wishing to try her, showed no 
 particular interest in her case, but told her to pray and 
 have patience. In the mean time the deaths of the 
 dauphin, the dauphiness, and the queen, succeeding at 
 brief intervals, occupied her in pious cares for those so 
 dear to her. Yet still she cherished her darling wish : 
 and, in order to facilitate its execution, she often read 
 the rule of St. Teresa, which she kept concealed for 
 fear of any one divining her secret. 
 
 During several years she practised herself in bearing 
 heat, cold, and other rigors of the season. She wore 
 coarse cloth instead of linen, and exercised other mor- 
 tifications in order to prepare her for the austere rule 
 she was to follow. Devoted to God, she sold her jewels, 
 to bestow more abundant alms on the poor, increased her 
 exercises J3f piety, approached the holy communion 
 more frequently, and continued her prayers until a late 
 hour of the night. She also composed a prayer in 
 honor of St. Teresa, full of the transports of a soul 
 burning with the love of God. 
 
 She did not acquire the habit of these pious practices, 
 however, without long and continual labor and self- 
 denial. One of her ladies, witnessinc^; an act of heroic 
 
Louisa Maria of France. 167 
 
 patience exercised by her, said to the princess, ^^I can- 
 not help expressing my admiration of your conduct, 
 madame: surely God will reward your great virtue/' 
 ^^I must endeavor to conquer myself/^ replied the prin- 
 cess ] ^' but I assure you it will not be done without 
 difficulty and perseverance ^' 
 
 The Archbishop of Paris, finding at lenscth all the 
 marks of a true vocation in the princess, gave way to 
 her earnest entreaties, and undertook himself to an- 
 nounce her wishes to her royal father. Admitted to a 
 private audience, he spoke thus to Louis : — " Sire, I 
 am charged to announce news to you which your majesty 
 will doubtless receive with your usual religious for- 
 titude. Madame Louisa, after long trials, has deputed 
 me to inform your majesty that she feels called to a 
 religious life, and begs you to grant her permission to 
 follow her vocation.'^ The king, at these words, started 
 back in consternation : — ^' What news is this, my lord ? 
 and how came you to bring it?'' Then burying his 
 head in his hands, he exclaimed, several times, ^' This is 
 cruel/' Then, after a long pause, this good father 
 sacrificed his tenderest afiection to the holy will of God, 
 and said to Mgr. de Beaumont, ^^ If God requires this 
 of me, my lord archbishop, I will not resist His will. 
 1 will give an answer in a fortnight." 
 
 We can imagine how long the fourteen days appeared 
 
168 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 the pious princess. At the end of them she received 
 the following letter from the king :— 
 
 ''Versailles, 20th February, 1770. 
 ^' The archbishop, dear daughter, having spoken to 
 me of that which you requested him to do, has no doubt 
 given you my answer. If you feel that it is for God's 
 sake only that you wish this, I will not oppose it. You 
 have reflected long on the subject, so that you require 
 no further time to do so. It would seem, indeed, that 
 your arrangements are ail-but concluded. You can 
 speak to your sisters on the subject when you think fit. 
 You cannot go to Compiegne : any other house is open 
 to you ; but I should be sorry to prescribe any one for 
 you. Many sacrifices have been extorted from me, this 
 one I make of my own free will. God give you grace 
 to sustain your new state ; for, once made, the step is 
 irrevocable. I embrace you with all my heart, dearest 
 daughter, and give you my blessing. Louis." 
 
 The princess watered this letter with her tears. On 
 her knees before the crucifix, she thanked God for 
 having inspired her father to make this generous sacri- 
 fice of his best-loved daughter. Left free to choose 
 the place of her retreat, she at first naturally thought 
 of the house in the Rue de Grenelle. But reflecting 
 that she knew several ladies in that house, that it was 
 
Louisa Maria of France. 169 
 
 ill the capital, and likely to attract visitors, she chose 
 the CDimnuiuty at St. Deuis for the one in which she 
 would pass her novitiate. This v/as notoriously lue 
 poorest house of the order, and so severe that it was 
 called the Lii Trappe of the Cam) elites. 
 
 She entered it on Wednesday, 11th of April, 1770. 
 Neither the prioress nor the sisterhood were forewarned 
 of her intention. Their spiritual director, who alone 
 was cognizant of it, assembled the whole community, 
 and informed them that the Princess Louisa of France 
 had come to their house to enter the order. Imme- 
 diately the superioress and sisters went to the choir, 
 where the princess joined them, and, falling on her 
 knees, said, with a firm but submissive voice, ^' I hum- 
 bly implore you, ladies, to grant me the favor of re- 
 ceiving me among you ; to look upon me as your sister; 
 to forget what 1 ivas in the world ; and to pray God 
 for myself and the king. I desire, with all my soul, to 
 be a Carmelite ; and I will endeavor, by the grace of 
 God and the help of your prayers, to become a good 
 one.'^ Then she went to each religious, who wept 
 with emotion, raised and embraced her tenderly. 
 
 Her greatest pain was, after she had been installed 
 Bome time in this house, to see that the community 
 could not throw ofi" their deep respect for her person as 
 princess of France, and that they endeavored to miti- 
 gate her austerities ; but she had too well studied the 
 
170 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 rule to allow this to be done with impunity. She be- 
 came, on the contrary, a model for the other novices, 
 and encouraged them by the liveliness with which she 
 bore all the austerities of her new state. 
 
 The princess was constitutionally weak, and subject 
 to frequent blood-spitting. On this account the Holy 
 Father authorized Madame Louisa's confessor to miti- 
 gate the rule in her favor, and even to dispense her 
 altogether from it when he thought it necessary for the 
 princess's health. The same brief grants a plenary in- 
 dulgence to the royal novice as often as she communi- 
 cated. *• For this indulgence/' she exclaimed, on 
 hearing the brief read, ^^ I am truly grateful, and will 
 often make use of it ; but as to the dispensations, in 
 health I will not take advantage of them, and in sick- 
 ness I shall not want them.'' These were the real sen- 
 timents of her heart, for she often spoke of her hap- 
 piness, but never of her sacrifices. One day, com- 
 paring her present state with the life which was led at 
 court, she said, " As we have our rules and stated 
 actions to perform, so have they at the court, though 
 they are much harder than ours. For example, at five 
 o'clock in the evening I go to prayers; at Versailles I 
 went to play : at nine o'clock the bell calls me to 
 matins ; at Versailles I was summoned to go to the 
 theatre. One is never at rest at court, although there 
 
Louisa Maria of France. 171 
 
 is rarely any change in the monotonous circle of 
 vanities/' 
 
 On the 22d of September, 1771, the princess made 
 her profession before the Archbishop of Paris. She 
 pronounced her vows in that firm and resolute voice 
 which generally accompanies a determined purpose. 
 Eight days later, she received the veil from the hands 
 of the Countess of Provence. The Papal nuncio, as- 
 sisted by several bishops and a large body of the clergy, 
 officiated on the occasion, which, by the king's special 
 command, was celebrated with unusual solemnity and 
 grandeur. 
 
 Soon after her profession, the princess, despite her 
 remonstrances and entreaties, was named mistress of 
 novices. The tender devotion of a mother to her chil- 
 dren could not exceed that which the royal nun lavished 
 on the pious virgins committed to her care. Having 
 bestowed all her day on them, she not unfrequently 
 stole some hours from her sleep to give to their welfare. 
 Her sweetest recompense was to accompany to the altar 
 those over whose probationary career she had watched 
 so assiduously. It is the custom in the houses of the 
 Carmelite order for the novice, who is about to make 
 her profession, to pass the night preceding that ceremony 
 before the Blessed Sacrament, accompanied by her mis- 
 tress. On one of these occasions Madame Louisa was 
 very unwell, and the community implored her to name 
 
172 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 one of them to take her place. " No, no, mv dear 
 sisters/' was her answer: ''it is my right to offer my 
 children to our Lord, and I am too jealous of that privi- 
 lege to allow an illness to prevent my enjoying it/' 
 
 Four years after her profession, the princess was 
 elected prioress of the community at St. Denis. Against 
 this she in vain pleaded her utter unworthiness and in- 
 capacity. However, the great wisdom and discretion 
 which she soon manifested in directing the house aug- 
 mented the veneration the sisterhood already enter- 
 tained for her; so that after three years she was again 
 unanimously re-elected. 
 
 Madame Louisa ever exhibited the same evenness of 
 temper amidst the trials and difficulties of her arduous 
 position. She never, on any account, would allow any 
 thing to discourage her. One would have said that the 
 cares of her position were not the slightest burden to 
 her. Her charity embraced all; her vigilance watched 
 all ; her prudence directed all ; and her activity kept all 
 in order. A strict observer of the rule herself, she, 
 nevertheless, never refused to mitigate it in favor of 
 those whose physical weakness really required some 
 indulgence. No harsh word ever escaped her lips; she 
 always spoke and acted like a mother to her large com- 
 munity. They who were prevented by duties from see- 
 ing their superioress during the day went to her at 
 night, but she never complained of their abridging her 
 
Louisa Maria of France. 173 
 
 short hours of repose. In times of great need; her 
 tender devotion to her children was very manifest. In 
 the iniirmary she insisted upon being considered the 
 head nurse, nor would she allow another to take her 
 place except upon urgent necessity. 
 
 After having thus passed six years as prioress, the 
 princess had the temporalities and housekeeping of the 
 order placed in her hands. She set about these new 
 duties with alacrity, and exercised them widi the greatest 
 order and regularity, and by her example, and the use- 
 ful lessons of neatness and cleanliness she gave the 
 novices, tended much to their mutual comfort and 
 happiness. During the midst of her occupations she 
 ever presented a lively and cheerful countenance, even 
 when just subjects for annoyance might have been 
 afforded her. " Let us rejoice," she said to her children : 
 " that is the precept of St. Paul, and I find that liveli- 
 ness is the best way to gild the pill of austerity." This 
 constant cheerfulness can only be attributed to that 
 happy state of a pure and undisturbed conscience, and 
 to the affectionate nature of her disposition. In leaving 
 the world, she had carried into her retreat that good- 
 natured kindness which had so endeared her to every 
 one at the court. Tiiis caused her to be besieged by 
 applications, on all hands and on every subject, which 
 she listened to with the greatest patience, and to which 
 she generally afforded assistance. 
 
174 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 Humility was her favorite virtue, and it gave a clia- 
 racter to all the others. Nothing so aunoyed her as to 
 be made the object of particular or special attention. 
 She even was known to shed tears after receiving such. 
 '' Oh that I were not a king's daughter V^ she once 
 said to the prioress of a neighboring convent; "for then 
 I think I should have been a better Carmelite, — at least, 
 I should not have had the misfortune to be prioress, for 
 they have, (without detracting from the sincerity of our 
 good sisters, J in reality, re-elected Madame Louisa, 
 and not Sister Teresa of St. Augustine.'' 
 
 Although all her life was a constant preparation for 
 death, she nevertheless devoted the month of December 
 of each year to a more special preparation. It was 
 doubtless a special dispensation of Almighty God to call 
 her to Himself about this time. She suddenly fell ill, 
 on the 11th of November, 1787, after hearing of one of 
 thuse false measures which bad councillors had persuaded 
 the king to adopt. Madame Louisa foresaw at this time 
 all the evils which menaced the throne and Church of 
 France; her soul shrunk at the frightful ordeal they 
 would undergo, and her body sunk under it. Her dis- 
 order was attended by most excruciating suffering's 
 Medicines procured her temporary ease ; but she would 
 not take them so frequently as prescribed, lest they 
 shoull take from her the merit of her sufferings. At 
 length her malady grew so iangerous that it caused 
 
Louisa Maria of France. 175 
 
 the good community the most serious apprehensions for 
 the result. Daily her strength seemed to fail her, whilst 
 the pious princess expressed no other feeling but satis- 
 faction and entire resignation to the holy will of God. 
 
 The eve of her death she called to her bedside a 
 young religious, to whom she was most devotedly 
 attached, and said to her, in a tone of joy, as if announc- 
 ing some good news, '' Good-bye, dear Seraphine: I am 
 really going to leave you/' ^' Where are you going to, 
 dear mother ?" innocently asked the young novice, 
 bursting into tears. " Pray do not pity me,'' continued 
 the dying princess. " I thought our good God had re- 
 served me many more trials and crosses to go through;* 
 but in His great mercy He is going to take me now. 
 1 trust in that mercy to go to heaven. Ought I not to 
 be happy, then ? I should never have thought it was 
 so sweet to die.'' 
 
 Another sister, who brought her something, m.ani- 
 festing too much affection for her, she quietly rebuked 
 her, saying, '' God alone, now, dear sister, — God alone V 
 On being asked if her sisters should be apprized of her 
 approaching dissolution, '' I should like to bid them 
 adieu; but it is the duty of a Carmelite to pray for her 
 family without showing any desire to see them," was 
 the princess's mortified answer. 
 
 ♦ A prophetic allusion to the terrible scenes of the French Re- 
 rolutiuu, which this princess just escaped. 
 
iTO Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 Finding her end approaching, she insisted on re- 
 ceiving the holy viaticum, on the approach of which 
 she exclaimed, '• Thou art at length come, my divine 
 Spouse ! my God, how sweet it is to give up one's 
 life into Thy hands !'' She then asked for Extreme 
 Unction, which she received most reverently. She 
 then addressed the bub-prioress, saying, " I charge you, 
 sister, to beg the community to pardon me all the pahi 
 or scandal J may have given them by my irregularity, 
 my weaknesses and other defects.'' She then addressed 
 some words of advice to the community in general. 
 She desired the two sisters who attended her during 
 her illness to accept of her two crucifixes : " that is,'' 
 she continued, '' provided my successor allows you to 
 keep them ; for God forbid that I, a poor Carmelite, 
 should presume to dispose of any property." This was 
 the last lesson of perfect submission to this austere rule 
 of this noble princess, whose sole wealth in d3-ing con- 
 sisted of two wooden crucifixes. 
 
 A few moments before her death, she exclaimed, ''It 
 is now time I Come, let us arise and hasten to Para- 
 dise I" These were her last words. Her sweet and 
 peaceful death, like the sleep of the Just, was announced 
 by no convulsive struggle; her la^t sigh wafted from 
 her body with her soul, unseen, unheard. She died 
 on the tlod of December, 1787, at half-past four in the 
 morning, happy in not living to witness the horrid 
 
Louisa Maria of France. 177 
 
 crimes and sacrileges of that fearful revolution^ in not 
 living to be torn from her sacred asylum by ruffian 
 hands, to share the fate of her royal nephew. God 
 had doubtless accepted the many sacrifices of this 
 second Teresa, since He called her to Himself before 
 the liine of this dreadful scourge on the royal family 
 and Church of France. 
 
178 Queens and Princesses or France. 
 
 PRINCESS OF AUSTRIA, QUEEN OF LOUIS XVL 
 A.D. 1755—1793. 
 
 AEIE ANTOINETTE, daughter of 
 the great Maria Teresa and Francis 
 I., was born in Vienna in 1755, on 
 the same day that the fearful earth- 
 quake at Lisbon took place, (2d of No- 
 vember,) a coincidence she never thought 
 of in after-life without a shudder. 
 The early life of Mai'ie Antoinette 
 was spent in the brilliant court of her mother, Maria 
 Teresa. Her education was confided to persons as re- 
 commendable by their virtues as by their talents. 
 Masters of every accomplishment were provided for her, 
 and she seemed to exceed their best expectations. But 
 the cultivation of her mind was not allowed to interfere 
 with her progress in virtue. From her earliest years, 
 the young Antoinette was remarkable for a nobility and 
 greatness of soul, which she was one day to exert to the 
 
Marie Antoinette. 179 
 
 utmost, a compassion for tlie sufferings and poverty of 
 others, and an earnest desire to comfort and relieve 
 them. She had the art of making herself so beloved 
 by everybody who approached her, that the day on 
 which she left Vienna for Paris to join her betrothed, 
 Louis XVI., then dauphin, was observed as one of 
 mourning. 
 
 Her youth, beauty, and gracious disposition excited 
 the greatest admiration at the French court. Every 
 one tried to increase her happiness. ^^It was,'' said 
 they, /' a brilliant marriage for a younger son. When 
 the princess had put aside the diamonds she had worn 
 the first days of her marriage, her beauty was still 
 more remarked: she was compared to the Venus of 
 Medici and to the Atalanta of the gardens of Marly. 
 The poets celebrated her charms, and painters vied 
 with each other in placing them on canvas. One who 
 had the lucky idea to paint her lovely face in the 
 centre of a full-blown rose received a handsome reward 
 from Louis XV. for his happy conceit." 
 
 Marie Antoinette was not, however, decidedly beau- 
 tiful when her features were examined separately : her 
 attractions consisted in the expression of the ensemhlej 
 in the elegance of her form, the brilliancy of her com- 
 pjexion, the lightness of her step, the dignity of her 
 deportment, and the grace which accompanied her 
 smallest movements. Her hair was light, her eyes 
 
180 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 blue, her nose aquiline, and lier moutli small ; bur the 
 lower lip was prominent, — a fault which was character- 
 istic of the princes of her family. She was not pos- 
 sessed of much talent : nevertheless, she charmed those 
 with whom she conversed, because the sprightliness of 
 her thoughts furnished her with appropriate expres- 
 sions. 
 
 Young, of a lively disposition, and surrounded by 
 ladies by whom she was respected and beloved, Marie 
 Antoinette, with these friends, amused herself by giving 
 domestic fetes^ sledge-races, evening concerts, family 
 excursions, and private theatricals. Malevolence mis- 
 construed these diversions, and gave a false coloring 
 to amusements which were perfectly innocent; her 
 enemies declared that her dislike to etiquette arose from 
 a wish to veil conduct which she feared to expose. 
 But maternal love and friendship filled the heart of 
 Marie Antoinette; and, notwithstanding the many in- 
 sinuations that have been circulated against her by her 
 numerous calumniators, there is no foundation for one 
 of them. The ^^ afiair of the diamond necklace/' too, 
 as it is called, (a notorious fraud eifected by the ministers 
 in the queen's name,) augmented the number of her 
 enemies. This event, which proved so fruitful in its 
 results, was the effect of an intriguing woman's base- 
 ness, the underhand dealings of some persons who were 
 near the throne, the. short-sightedness of the court, 
 
Marie Antoinette. 181 
 
 and, above all, the inconceivable prejudices which the 
 people entertained against a princess endowed with 
 qualities which would have rendered her an object of 
 love had they been appreciated. 
 
 One of the queen^s most loved friends was the 
 Duchess of Polignac. A favorite is always considered 
 a political enemy, and Madame de Polignac, like her 
 royal mistress, was calumniated : moreover, she was 
 accused of having too great an influence over political 
 affairs and the nomination of appointments. After 
 the insurrection of- the 14th of eluly, in which Polignac 
 and Sombreiul had been insulted and attacked in the 
 gardens of the Palais Royal by the multitude^ and had 
 succeeded in putting several to flight, the queen trem- 
 bled for her friend, who was personally designated for 
 the poignards of the assassins, and whom she expected 
 the king would be called upon to give up to their re- 
 volutionary judgment. She therefore sent for the 
 duchess on the following day, and entreated her to fly 
 during the night. Madame de Polignac obstinately 
 refused to do so, declaring that she would share the 
 fate of her queen. Marie Antoinette, shedding tears, 
 said to her, " To-morrow the king goes to Paris; . . . 
 and if they ask him ! . . . I have every thing to dread 
 for you ! In the name of friendship, fly while there is 
 yet time. Remember that you are a mother.^' The 
 kiwg entering at this moment, she added, "Come, sire, 
 
182 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 assist me in persuading my faithful friends that tliey 
 must leave us/^ The king seized the hand of the 
 duke, who had accompanied his wife, and said, *^Yes: 
 follow the queen's counsel. It must be so. I entreat 
 you, and, if it be necessary, I command you." They 
 accordingly obeyed ; and at midnight, when the duchesa 
 was ready for her departure, she received the following 
 short note from the queen : — ^^ Adieu, tenderest of 
 friends ! How harsh this word sounds ! yet it is neces- 
 sary. Adieu; I do not feel that I have strength to 
 embrace you/' Thus was dissolved that most tender 
 and pure friendship, which had existed for the space 
 of fifteen years. 
 
 The queen, whose only pleasure now consisted in 
 her correspondence with her brother Joseph II. and 
 the Duchess de Polignac, lost even that gratification, 
 for she was too closely watched to be enabled any 
 longer to communicate with her friend, and death robbed 
 her of the emperor. The only devoted friend that 
 remained to her was the good and beautiful Princess 
 de Lamballe, who left Aix-la-Chapelle to console Marie 
 Antoinette for the absence of her other exiled favorite. 
 In vain those who were attached to her threw them- 
 selves on their knees and endeavored to dissuade hei 
 from going to Yersailles. " The queen wants me," 
 Bhe replied ; " I must live or die by her.'^ Tb* 
 
Marie Antoinette. 183 
 
 atrocious assassination of this devoted and noble princess 
 is too well known. 
 
 It can hardly be expected to find in a small work of 
 this nature a detail of all the terrible scenes this un- 
 fortunate queen passed through from the moment when 
 (5th and 6th of October, 1790) she heard the rabble 
 forcing their way through the gates of Versailles, filling 
 the air with fearful imprecations and wildly demanding 
 her life, to the last scene when her noble form lay a 
 headless corpse under the fatal knife of the guillotine. 
 Still, as it was during this time that the queen's virtues 
 were brought into the greatest action, no sketch of the 
 life of Marie Antionette, however brief, can be com- 
 plete without some account of them. 
 
 After the scene above alluded to, when the king, 
 queen, and dauphin were brought to Paris, the com- 
 missioners waited upon Marie Antoinette to receive her 
 depositions respecting the attack on Versailles; but 
 this noble queen's only reply was, " I have seen, heard, 
 diVidi forgotten every thing/^ 
 
 When the royal fugitives had been recognised at 
 Varennes, and the tender-hearted Louis had himself 
 stopped the exertions of his friends to save him by 
 these words, " I wish no drop of blood to be shed in 
 my quarrel/' the daughter of the haughty Empress of 
 Austria threw herself on her knees before the wife of 
 the district magistrate, saying, "You can save us, 
 
184 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 madame. Oh, let us depart V' Her appeal was in vain ; 
 and^ in the night of agony which followed, the queen's 
 hair became perfectly white. 
 
 While confined in the Tuileries, so strict was the sur- 
 veillance exercised over the royal family that it was 
 with the greatest difficulty that they could perform 
 their Easter duties, which they did in the night, sur- 
 rounded by the greatest mystery. Maternal love, which 
 was strongly and deeply implanted in the heart of 
 Marie Antoinette, caused her to experience some con- 
 solation during this period in devoting herself to the 
 education of her children. Try as she would, however, 
 to conceal her tears and sobs from them, they would 
 escape despite herself. One day a poor woman, meet- 
 ing the dauphin on a walk in the gardens of the Tui- 
 leries, put a petition in his hand for the queen. " I 
 will give your petition myself,'^ said the child, *^and I 
 am sure mamma will give you what you ask for.'' '^ Oh, 
 then,'' exclaimed the poor woman, " I shall be so happy ! 
 —as happy as a queen !" ** As a queen !" replied 
 little Louis, sorrowfully. ^' Ah ! I know one who cries 
 very often." 
 
 On the terrible 20th of June, Marie Antoinette was 
 forced to attach the tricolor to her cap, and, standing 
 behind a table holding the dauphin before her, with 
 her sister-in-law at her side, and a few faithful friends 
 around her, ste awaited the approach of the mob. The 
 
Marie Antoinette. 185 
 
 rioters, with Santerre at their head, marched before 
 her, many bearing the most atrocious inscriptions. One 
 bore a gallows, from which was suspended a doll dressed 
 like a queen, with these horrible words: — ^^ To the gal- 
 lows with Marie Antoinette T' The fishwomen ad- 
 dressed the most insulting language to the queen ; but 
 the calm, majestic air she preserved amid these trying 
 scenes caused many a sneer and jest to be turned into 
 tears of compassion for the noble sufferer. This cruel 
 mockery lasted five hours ] and, when on the next day 
 the rabble was heard in the court of the Tuileries, the 
 little dauphin innocently said, '^ -Mamma, is not yester- 
 day over yet ?^' 
 
 On one occasion, the king wishing to return to the 
 National Assembly, the queen said to him, with energy, 
 " I would rather be nailed to the walls of this castle. 
 Sire, your place is here.^^ At this moment Ksederer 
 entered with his staff. " Sire,^^ said he to the king, 
 ^^ the danger is imminent, — defence impossible. In the 
 National Guard there are few on whom we can rely : 
 the rest, intimidated or corrupted, will join the assail- 
 ants at the first shock. Take refuge, sire, with the 
 legislative body. Your majesty's life, and that of your 
 royal family, can only be safe under the protection of 
 that assembly. Leave the palace : there is not a mo- 
 ment to be lost.'' The king hesitated. '' What I" said 
 the queen, ^^ are we so completely deserted ? is ther<9 
 
186 Queens and Princesses of France 
 
 no one to lielp us ?'^ ^^ Madame, I repeat, resistance i§ 
 useless. Will you be responsible for the death of the 
 kingj and your children, yourself, and your few faithful 
 adherents, by remaining here V^ " God forbid !" re- 
 plied the heroic queen : '' would that I might be the 
 only victim V^ ^' Well, then, madame, let us go/^ ^^Let 
 us go,^' said the king, '' and give this last mark of con- 
 fidence in and love of our people/^ On their way, a 
 man of fierce expression seized the little dauphin in his 
 arms. The mother gave a piercing shriek. ^^ Don^t 
 fear,^' cried the man, putting him down : '^ I don^t mean 
 to hurt him/.! ... . . 
 
 After three days' deliberation, the Assembly decreed 
 that the royal family should be confined in the Temple. 
 Mesdanies de Lamballe and de Tourzel, whom the queen 
 had been happy enough to keep with her, followed 
 them. But it was for a few days only. There then 
 remained no one to wait on the queen; and in four 
 days Madame de Lamballe was guillotined and her 
 beautiful head paraded on a pike before the windows 
 of the Temple. At this terrible sight the poor queen 
 fainted. 
 
 In prison the queen showed great courage, and was 
 admirably supported by that *^ consoling angeF' who 
 had devoted herself to comfort the king and queen. 
 Madame Elizabeth was the angel of the prison, as she 
 had been " the angel of the court,'' (as she had been 
 
Marie Antoinette. 187 
 
 called in happier days.) Slie miglit have retired into 
 exile with her brother, but she refused. Patient, 
 amiable, angelical, she sustained the heavy crosses, which 
 it pleased God to lay upon those royal shoulders, with 
 admirable resignation. 
 
 There was, however, some consolation in the Temple. 
 They were all united. The calmness and mildness of 
 Louis XVT. astonished even his jailers. The royal 
 parents did not allow their misfortunes to interrupt the 
 education of their children. Louis heard his son the 
 lessons he had formerly learned : he instructed his daugh- 
 ter. And in the midst of th^se family reunions a little 
 harmless joke would occasionally intervene to produce 
 a smile. One day, Louis asked his daughter who founded 
 Carthage. The princess hesitating, the dauphin nudged 
 her, saying, ^^Dis done, (Didon,) sister." Another 
 time, while amusing his son with some cards, the dau- 
 phin could not get beyond the number sixteen. After 
 several attempts, he stopped, saying, '' This is an un- 
 fortunate number, papa.^^ ^' Yes, my child, very un- 
 fortunate, indeed,'^ replied the wretched king. 
 
 The queen and Madame Elizabeth instructed the 
 children in music and in drawing. The princesses also 
 mended the royal garments while the king read. Then 
 prayers were said regularly, night and morning, to- 
 gether; and so faithful was the good king to the ordi- 
 nances of his Church that, having meat sent him on a 
 
188 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 day of abstinence, he made his dinner off bread soaked 
 in the common wine of the country. But this quiet 
 and innocent state of things was not to last long. The 
 king was separated from his wife and children : he saw 
 them but once more, on the eve of his execution. The 
 next blow the poor queen suffered was the loss of her 
 son. That charming and amiable child, the object of 
 her tenderest solicitude, was torn from her arms and 
 given to those of the cobbler Simon. 
 
 The queen was soon after transferred to the prison 
 of the Conciergerie. Here she occupied a low, narrow, 
 damp chamber on the ground-floor : a half-rotten pal- 
 liasse, a filthy straw bed, and a dirty counterpane formed 
 the bed of the Queen of France. A prisoner having 
 lent her some books to amuse her, she returned them 
 with her fatal name written with a pen on the fly- 
 leaf. 
 
 An incident occurred at this time which will show 
 that there still existed in the hearts of many of the 
 Parisians feelings of strong compassion for this poor 
 queen. She one day expressed to the jailer's wife a 
 desire to have a melon. Madame Richard ran to the 
 nearest market. "I want a good melon,'' said she to 
 the first market-woman. '^ I understand," she replied. 
 '^ This melon you ask for so eagerly is for our unfor- 
 tunate queen. Well, take the best you can find.'' On 
 ofi^ring to pay for it, the money was refused. ^^ No : 
 
Marie Antoinette. 389 
 
 take itj and tell our poor queen that there are many 
 among us who weep for her/^ The queen was much 
 affected at this incident. A few months later the jail- 
 er^s wile was killed. 
 
 At length the period arrived that was to put an end 
 to the sufferings of the queen ; but with what new tor- 
 tures was it not accompanied ! It was the 14th of Oc- 
 tober, 1793, that she was commanded to appear before 
 the revolutionary tribunal. Clad in a plain black 
 dress, she sat on a stool placed in front of the public 
 prosecutor, Fouquier-Tinville. The tribunal was pre- 
 sidedkDver by Armand-Martial Herman, and consisted 
 of a barber, a printer, a painter, a tailor, a surgeon, an 
 upholsterer, and a public crier. Fouquier-Tinville 
 accused the queen of having conspired against France. 
 
 He said, ^^ that, after the example of Mesdames 
 Brunehaut, Fredigonde, and Medicis, formerly called 
 ^ queens of France,^ Marie Antoinette, widow of Capet, 
 has been, since her arrival in France, the scourge and 
 leech of the French people ; that she has squandered 
 in a frightful manner the finances of France, (fruit of 
 the sweat of the people,) in order to satisfy her inordi- 
 nate pleasures and send to the emperor millions, which 
 have assisted, and still enable him, to carry on war 
 against the Republic/^ and much more in the same 
 strain. 
 
 Marie Antoinette listened with an air of calm dignity 
 
190 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 to this tissue of absurdities. Then came the depo- 
 sitions of the witnesses. Many of these were consoling 
 to the queen. As, when Bailly (who had been mayor 
 of Paris) was asked, ^^ Do you know widow Capet T' 
 " Yes/' said he, making a deep reverence toward the 
 queen, ^^I have the honor of knowing her majesty/' 
 
 " It would appear,'' said the public prosecutor, " not- 
 withstanding your denials, that you made your husband, 
 who was called king, do what you liked ?" Marie 
 Antoinette replied, ^^ It is a very different thing to 
 counsel a person, and to make him follow your counsel." 
 
 They dared to outrage the queen in her most holy 
 feelings, — her maternal tenderness. Hebert, one of the 
 judges, called hers into question. She at first seemed 
 to consider such an accusation unworthy of notice. 
 But on being again accused she stood erect, and point- 
 ing to the benches on which the women sat, uttered 
 that sublime speech, — ^^ I appeal to all mothers !" 
 Sobs and tears, even of the most hardened, answered 
 her appeal. 
 
 This mockery of a trial lasted three days and three 
 nights. The queen's conduct was full of nobleness, of 
 simplicity, and of dignity. She was even refused a 
 j^lass of water, to cool the fever into which the heat of 
 the assembly had thrown her. She would not select 
 an advocate, fearing lest the name she uttered should 
 immediately be put on the list of the proscribed. Tho 
 
Marie Antoinette. 191 
 
 tribunal put her case into the hands of MM. Tron§on, 
 Ducoudray, and Chauveau-Lagarde. Neither her de- 
 fenders nor the victim herself (prejudged as she felt 
 herself to be) entertained the least hope of success. 
 Marie Antoinette was condemned by the unanimous 
 voice of this ignoble tribunal. 
 
 The queen heard the sentence without betraying the 
 least symptom of trepidation or fear. Keccnducted to 
 the Conciergerie at half-past four o'clock in the morn- 
 ing, she spent her time in writing the following touch- 
 ing letter to Madame Elizabeth : — 
 
 " 16 October, 1793, at half-past four in the morning. 
 
 ^' I write to you, my sister, for the last time. I have 
 just been condemned — not to a shameful death — that 
 is only for criminals — but to go to join your brother. 
 Innocent like him, I hope to show the same firmness 
 he did in his last moments. I am as calm as only they 
 can be whose conscience does not reproach them. My 
 deepest regret is to leave my poor children ; you know 
 I lived but for them. And you, my good and afi'ection- 
 ate sister ! in what a condition do I leave you, who have 
 sacrificed every thing to remain with us ! I learned only 
 from my advocate that my daughter had been taken 
 from you. Alas ! poor child, I dare not trust myself 
 to write to her. Besides, she would not receive my 
 letter; I know not even whether this will ever reach 
 you. If it doeS; take my blessing to them both. I 
 
192 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 trust one day, when they grow up, tliey will be restored 
 to you, and enjoy your good care. May they ever 
 think of what I have never ceased to inspire them 
 with : that the exact performance of all their duties is 
 the first great principle of life ; that mutual love and 
 confidence should form their happiness ; that my daugh- 
 ter, being the elder, should aid her brother by the best 
 advice that her greater experience and the love she 
 bears him should suggest to her. Let my son, also, 
 devote to his sister all the care and attention he is able; 
 and let them both feel that, in whatever situation they 
 may be placed, their chief happiness will consist in 
 being united. Let them take example by us ; what 
 consolations have not our union afforded us in the 
 midst of our greatest trials ! And have we not doubly 
 enjoyed the small share of happiness that has fallen to 
 our lot by sharing it with each other ? And who should 
 be so devoted and affectionate to each other as the 
 members of a family ? May my son never forget the 
 last words of his father, which I now repeat emphatic- 
 ally — ^ Let him never seek to revenge our death!' 
 
 " It now behooves me to express to you my last 
 wishes. I should have written them before the trial, 
 but it came on so suddenly that I had not the time to 
 do so. 
 
 ^* I die in the holy Roman Catholic and Apostolic 
 faith, which was that my fathers professed, that in 
 
Marie ^^rVTOiNETTE. 113 
 
 which I was educated, and which I Luv- always 
 sincerely professed. Not being allowed any spiritual 
 consolation, being ignorant, indeed, whether any priests 
 of my religion exist in this place, and fearing, ev^en if 
 there be, their entrance here would expose their lives, 
 I sincerely beg pardon of God for all the faults I have 
 committed during my life. I hope, in His bounty, 
 that He will receive my dying prayer — the same I have 
 long petitioned for — that He will take my soul into His 
 infinite mercy and goodness. I ask pardon of all whom 
 I have ever known — and in particular of you, my dear 
 sister — for all the pain, without wishing it, I may have 
 caused them. I pardon all my enemies the evil they 
 have done me. I bid adieu to my aunts, and my 
 brother and sisters. I had some friends ; the idea of 
 being separated from them forever, and the sufferings 
 they will perhaps endure for me, is one of the greatest 
 afflictions I experience in dying. Let them know, 
 however, that I thought of them in my last moments. 
 
 ^' Adieu, my good and dear sister. May this letter 
 reach you. Think often of me. I embrace you with 
 all my heart, as also my poor dear children. God, 
 how it grieves me to part with them forever ! Adieu, 
 adieu ! I must now think of nothing but my religious 
 duties. As I am not free in my actions, they will per- 
 haps try to force on me a [constitutional] priest; but I 
 N 
 
f 194 Queens and 1'rincesses of France. 
 
 protest here that I will not say a word to him, but will 
 treat him like a perfect stranger. 
 
 '' Marie Antoinette.'^ 
 
 As she anticipated, a constitutional priest was sent 
 to her, who had not the piuper faculties to give abso- 
 lution. "Now,^' said he, ^' is the moment to have 
 courage, and to ask of God pardon for your crimes/' 
 ^^ As for courage/' replied the queen, '^ I have not 
 waited till now to show it, and I beg pardon of God for 
 my faults ; crimes I have never committed.'' 
 
 At eleven o'clock the same morning, a common cart 
 stopped at the door of the Conciergerie. The queen 
 showed some astonishment at the sight of this carriage ; 
 she did not feel perhaps prepared for this last act of 
 brutality. However, she mounted, dressed in a white 
 quilted dress, which a fellow-prisoner had lent her. 
 Her hands were tied behind her back, and the exe- 
 cutioner and the priest sat on each side of her. The 
 cart was escorted by large detachments of cavalry and 
 infantry, and thirty thousand troops lined the way 
 . through which it passed. The queen's countenance 
 showed no signs of fear or haughtiness; she listened 
 with perfect calmness to the shouts and yells which 
 greeted her on her way. The people were excited to 
 these expressions by a popular actor, whom the revo- 
 lutionary tribune had hired for that purpose. The 
 
Marie Antoinette. 195 
 
 cart went slowly, and some spectators, collected on the 
 steps of the church of St. Roch, had the audacity to 
 make the driver stop, in order that they might indulge 
 their desire to have a good sight of the unfortunate 
 queen at their leisure. The object of their rude gaze 
 merely shrugged her shoulders. A faint glow^ how- 
 ever, spread over her features as she passed the Tuile- 
 ries, in the chapel of which she had been married. At 
 the foot of the scaffold she summoned up her utmost 
 courage, and mounted the fatal ladder with a firm step. 
 After her execution, her noble head was held up by 
 the executioner amid cries of '' Vive la Republique !'' 
 On the same day, at the same hour, the tomb of Louis 
 XY. was violated. The Convention had ordered the 
 opening and profanation of the tombs in St. Denis, and 
 the tomb of this king was being sacrilegiously rifled at 
 the same moment that the wife of his grandson died on 
 the scaffold ! 
 
 ^' Thus died this queen/' writes Lamartine, whose 
 democratic principles must be borne in mind ; " lively 
 in prosperity, sublime in misfortune, intrepid on the 
 scaffold; the idol of a court broken up by the people; 
 for some time the love, then the counsellor, of royalty; 
 and, finally, the personal enemy of the revolution. This 
 revolution the queen could neither foresee, understand, 
 nor accept; her conduct seemed only to irritate and 
 excite it. Her fault was to cling to the court, instead 
 
199 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 of throwing herself and family upon the people. The 
 people, therefore, unjustly heaped upon her devoted 
 head all their hatred of the old monarchy. They con- 
 nected her name with all the scandals and treasons of 
 the court. All-powerful, by her goodness and her 
 mind, over her husband, she surrounded him with her 
 unpopularity, and drew him by her love into his ruin. 
 Her wavering politics followed the impressions of the 
 moment and ended by intriguing with foreigners. The 
 charming and dangerous favorite of a worn-out monarchy 
 rather than the queen of a new regime , she did not 
 possess the prestige of ancient royalty, — respect; nor 
 the prestige of a new reign, — popularity. She had but 
 the power of charming, misleading, and dying. The 
 want of solidity of mind excuses the intoxication of 
 her youth, and the greatness of her courage ennobles 
 her innocent beauty. She cannot be judged on the 
 scaffold, — or, rather, to pity her is to judge her. She 
 is of the number of those memories which disarm the 
 political severity of the historian, with which one 
 equivocates with pity, and judges (as women should be 
 judged) with tears. History, of whatever shade it 
 may be, will shed eternal tears on the scaffold. Alone 
 against all, innocent by her sex, sacred by her title of 
 mother, a hitherto inoffensive woman is immolated in a 
 strange land by a people who can pardon nothing to 
 youth, beauty, and to the giddiness of adoration 
 
Marie Antoinette. 197 
 
 Called by a people to fill a throne, they do not even 
 bestow upon her a tomb ; for we read on the register 
 of the common burial-place of the Madeleine : ' For 
 the coffin of Widow Capet, 7 francs F 
 
 " Such was the end of a queenly life, and of enormous 
 expenses incurred during a reign noted for the splendor, 
 the amusements, and the generosity of a woman who 
 had possessed Versailles, St. Cloud, and the Trianon 
 When Providence wishes to speak to men with a rude 
 eloquence of royal vicissitudes, it gives us by a sign 
 more than Seneca or Bossuet in their most eloquent dis- 
 courses ; and it writes a vile sum on the grave-digger's 
 register/' 
 
198 Queens and Princesses of France 
 
 SISTER OF LOUIS XVL 
 A.D. 1764—1794 
 
 AUGHTER of Louis, Dauphin of 
 
 France, (eldest son of Louis XY.,) 
 
 and of Mary Joseph of Saxony, 
 
 Madame Elizabeth was born on the 23d 
 
 Wm of May, 1764, and became an orphan at 
 the age of three years. Thus early de- 
 prived of the sweet delights of filial af- 
 fection, she centred hers on her three 
 brothers ; and, if one more than another had an excess 
 of her love and constant attention, it was the Duke de 
 Berri, (afterward Louis XVL ;) and, as we have seen, 
 she gave him later in life the most devoted proofs of 
 this tender attachment. 
 
 The young princess received from her parents an 
 upright heart, a lively mind, and a firmness of soul 
 which seemed innate in them ; but there were also 
 defects in her character, which (had they not been cor- 
 
Elizabeth of France. 199 
 
 rected in time) might have rendered her life most un- 
 happy. Proud of her long line of royal ancestry, she 
 wished every thing to give way to her ; and she was 
 naturally so irascible that, in her infancy, the least con- 
 tradiction excited her anger. The care of breaking 
 this impetuosity devolved on Mesdames Marsan and De 
 Makan, governesses of the children of France; and 
 they did so, while developing the germs of those pre- 
 cious virtues which have since caused her to excite such 
 general admiration. 
 
 While obtaining a perfect mastery over their young 
 charge, they had the happy gift of making themselves 
 beloved by them. By their enlightened directions, 
 Madame Elizabeth became entirely changed ; and the 
 means they used — the only effectual means — was reli- 
 gion, which taught the young princess the means of 
 curbing her propensities to vanity, and particularly to 
 anger. Without losing the dignity becoming her rank, 
 she softened it with a sweetness which gained her all 
 hearts. 
 
 When but fifteen years old, she obtained from hei 
 brother, the king, the privilege of having an inde- 
 pendent establishment. Such a liberty, in the midst 
 of a brilliant court, might have been followed by dan- 
 gerous results, if, at this youthful age, the princess had 
 not already shown a wisdom and prudence above her 
 years. She used to say to her worthy governess, in 
 
200 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 vrhose society she always took the greatest delight, " 1 
 hope you will ever find me act in such a manner as to 
 deserve your smiles and approbation/' Besides, she 
 changed nothing by this disposition but her abode : she 
 devoted the same hours to study, to recreation, to pious 
 exercises, and to repose. 
 
 Every member of the royal family had a country- 
 seat, where each might in retirement be relieved from 
 the exacting etiquette of the court, except Madame 
 Elizabeth. Yet, though she, of all others, had tastes 
 most conformable to a simple, quiet life, she did not ask 
 for this indulgence. The king, appreciating her modest 
 silence, bought a delightful house at Montreuil, where 
 she had passed part of her childhood, and presented it 
 to her in the following pretty manner. The king, 
 queen, and Madame Elizabeth, having gone for a ride, 
 the attendants led the way to Montreuil; and, on ar- 
 riving at the house, they alighted and entered. After 
 walking in the grounds, which they much admired, they 
 entered the house, when Marie Antoinette said, in the 
 most charming manner, to Madame Elizabeth, ^^ Sister, 
 as you are the mistress of this house, we must look to 
 you fo entertain us.'' In this retired abode the prin- 
 cess passed the happiest days of her life, devoting her- 
 self to rural occupations and comforting and adminis- 
 tering to the wants of the poor and sick of the neigh- 
 borhood. She took especial delight in visiting those 
 
Elizabeth of France. 201 
 
 whose occupations cpnsisted in tilling the fields, and 
 whom she called " sons of the cottage, and the pride 
 of good kings/^ ^^ They are my neighbors,'^ would she 
 answer to those who considered she lowered herself by 
 these visits ; '' and in the country every one visits his 
 Deighbors/' And she continued her personal visit- 
 ations, preferring the poorest and most miserable-look- 
 ing cottages, as those most likely to afi'ord subjects for her 
 compassion. 
 
 She always spent the best part of the summer at 
 Montreuil. She started after having heard Mass, which 
 she never missed hearing daily, on any account. She 
 dined with her attendants, and after night-prayers re- 
 turned to Versailles. As soon as she heard of the ill- 
 ness of any of her neighbors, she immediately sent a 
 physician, money, and comforts to allay the pains of 
 sickness. She afterward required an exact represent- 
 ation of the case to be made to her; and when she 
 had been, under Divine Providence, the means of saving 
 any life, she returned thanks, as if it were her own life 
 which had been spared. To supply the means for all 
 her charities, Madame Elizabeth had but her monthly 
 allowance; and, as this often went before it was due, 
 she had to borrow money of her ladies for her own 
 wants. She often denied herself trinkets and other 
 ornaments, that she might relieve the poor. One day, 
 a merchant showed the princess a beautiful chimney 
 
202 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 ornament, of a new design, the price of whicli was only 
 sixteen pounds, (four hundred francs,) but for which 
 slie did not require ready money. *^ Four hundred 
 francs !" exclaimed the lady of Montreuil. " Why, with 
 that sum I could set up two families.'^ 
 
 So virtuous a mind could but gain strength, by the 
 practice of piety, for future trials. There was nothing, 
 however, about the spirit of her piety which stood in 
 the way of innocent amusements and enjoyments, in 
 which she often joined with great spirit and vivacity. 
 But, alas ! to the fetes, and amusements of Versailles 
 were soon to succeed the dungeons of the Temple and 
 the horrors of the Revolution, of which Madame Eliza- 
 beth seemed to have some foresight. Her excellent 
 advice, however, was not followed ; and when the time 
 of trial came, she devoted herself with the most heroic 
 generosity to the fate of her unfortunate brother. 
 
 She was at her house at Montreuil on the 5th of 
 October, 1789, when she heard that a band of ruffians 
 were advancing on Yersailles. She instantly set out to 
 join her brother and share his dangers. The next 
 morning she managed to save several of the body- 
 guard from the fury of the populace. Witness of the 
 atrocities committed on those two days, she became 
 more determined than ever to stay with the king, and, 
 if necessary, to die with him. A few days after this 
 event she wrote thus : — ^^ We have left the cradle of 
 
Elizabeth of France. 203 
 
 our birth ! What do I say ? — left ! nay, we have heen 
 dragged from it. You have learned from the papers the 
 particulars of that dreadful night. I have neither the 
 strength nor the courage to depict them to you. . . . The 
 chief object of their resentment was my sister-in-law; 
 she sustained well her noble character! If the king 
 would have consented to leave Versailles two hours 
 Fooner, we should not have been brought here, (the 
 Tuileries.) What a journey ! what frightful scenes ! 
 Never, never will they be blotted out of my memory ! 
 . . . There is now no hope for us but in God, who does 
 not abandon those who trust in Him. My brother is 
 fully resigned to his fate ; his piety increases with his 
 misfortunes. Adieu, my friend. I have scarce yet re- 
 covered from my fright. Pray do not come here ; my 
 only hope is for those who are far from us.'^ 
 
 The 20th of June, 1792 — that day on which so 
 many outrages were heaped upon Louis XYI., on 
 account of his firmness in refusing to sanction a decree 
 against the ministers of religion — Madame Elizabeth, 
 after having vainly endeavored to excite some com- 
 passion for the king, thrust her way through the 
 crowd, and, standing by her brother, declared that she 
 would die with him. One of the wretches near her, 
 taking her for the queen, said, with fury, '' Here is the 
 Austrian, let's kill her.^' One of the attendants cor- 
 rected his error by naming the princess. '^ Why did 
 
204 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 jou not let them think it was the queen ?'' she ex- 
 claimed : " it might have spared them a great crime !" 
 During the four hours that ensued, the princess re- 
 mained at the king's side, and only returned with him 
 into the royal apartments after the mob had left. 
 
 She showed no less courage on the 10th of August. 
 Determined to retain her position at her brother's side 
 and share his dangers, she went with him to the 
 National Assembly, and was conducted with him to the 
 tower of the Temple, whence he only left for the 
 scaffold. 
 
 Every thing that the deepest tenderness could sug- 
 gest, every consolation which religion afforded, were 
 offered by this princess to Louis XYI., his queen, and 
 children. She never complained, and among so many 
 pains she never seemed to feel any but those which 
 affected them. It was during this captivity that the 
 sisters understood and appreciated each other better 
 than they had ever done during the previous twenty 
 years. If the elevated piety of Madame Elizabeth 
 (raising her to that pitch of heroism which teaches us 
 to suffer every thing for the sake of God) inspired the 
 queen with a sublime idea of her religious fervor, the 
 heroic firmness of Marie Antoinette gained from her 
 sister-in-law an admiration in which posterity will ever 
 share. 
 
 It is easy to imagine the acuteness of their suffer- 
 
Elizabeth of France. 20d 
 
 mgs when the king was separated from them. " my 
 God/^ cried Madame Elizabeth, " give my brother and 
 us strength to bear this most cruel trial.'' Then 
 addressing the faithful Clery, she said, '' You are going 
 to remain near my brother ] redouble, if it be possible, 
 your attention to him, and neglect no opportunity of 
 letting us hear from him." This worthy attendant 
 found several means of establishing a correspondence 
 between the king and his family, which greatly con- 
 tributed to soothe the pains of imprisonment and sepa- 
 ration. But the evil tidings of the king's trial threw 
 consternation into this unfortunate family, whose very 
 existence was a prolonged agony. 
 
 In the midst of these sad and trying scenes, Madame- 
 Elizabeth found consolation in religion. She spent a 
 great part of her nights in prayer, begging for life only 
 as long as it might be useful and consoling to her 
 family. On the fatal day on which France lost one of 
 her best kings, Madame Elizabeth never left the crucifix, 
 except to attend on her niece, stricken with a fever, 
 which caused great alarm for the life of this young 
 and innocent princess. Marie Antoinette was also 
 about to give way under the weight of her griefs, and 
 both would perhaps have fallen beneath them had it 
 not been for the sustaining hand of the angelic Eliza- 
 beth. The murderers of Louis XVI. soon envied his 
 family the only souroe of comfort left to them, that of 
 
206 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 being united. The young dauphin was snatched from 
 the queen's arms, on the od of July, despite her most 
 heart-rending cries and the entreaties of his aunt and 
 sisters. 
 
 When deprived of the society of this poor child, the 
 three princesses thought the rage of their enemies must 
 subside, and accordingly they sought every opportunity 
 of getting a sight of their darling boy through some 
 window or crevice, for he was imprisoned in the adjoin- 
 ing tower. They also endeavored, when unable to get 
 any glance of him, to find out how he was, and how 
 treated ^ but it only added to their pains to hear how 
 cruelly this poor child suffered at the hands of the in- 
 human wretch appointed to be his guardian ! 
 . In the midst of these unheard-of trials of a royal 
 family, the queen one night heard the great bolts of 
 her prison-door withdrawn, and the heavy tread of men 
 whom, by the torches they bore, she saw were the 
 ready myrmidons of the man who was pouring out the 
 best blood of France like wine from the wine-press. It 
 was two o'clock in the morning. The princesses were 
 awakened in order to hear the decree of the Convention, 
 ordering Marie Antoinette to be conveyed to the Con- 
 ciergerie, preparatory to her trial. The wretched 
 queen heard the decree read without the least change 
 of countenance. Her daughter and Madame Elizabeth 
 implored to be allowed to follow the queen ; but their 
 
Elizabeth of France. 207 
 
 request v^as refused. Embracing her daughter most 
 tenderly, Marie Antoinette besought her to have cou- 
 rage in this trying moment, and recommended her to 
 obey her aunt, and be submissive to her as to herself; 
 she implored that aunt to watch over and guard her 
 children, and, with a last embrace, rushed from their 
 presence, never to enter it again. 
 
 During the queen's trial, a terrible cross-questioning 
 of the aunt and niece took place. Such a tissue of 
 atrocious questions could hardly be imagined. For the 
 first time the daughter of the martyr-king found herself 
 alone with and confronted by her father's murderers. 
 During the space of three hours the most monstrous 
 questions were put to her, and when she returned to 
 her room her countenance showed the indignation tljey 
 had excited in her noble mind. Dumb with terror, 
 she threw herself into her aunt's arms ; but she soon 
 was obligjsd to quit them, for her aunt's turn had come 
 to undergo the same horrors. All the atrocious accu- 
 sations which were made against the queen were 
 reiterated before the angelic Elizabeth as they had been 
 before her niece. The interrogators flattered themselves 
 that they would obtain some avowal to suit their pur- 
 pose, or, even if they should not, they could easily put 
 a wrong construction on the answers, or so alter them 
 as to make it appear that there was some truth in the 
 horrid allegations they dared to bring forth against 
 
208 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 their queen. When the two princesses met again, one 
 could only exclaim, as she received her niece into her 
 arms and pressed her to her breast, '^ Oh, my child I'' 
 They remained for some minutes in a deep silence, a 
 heavenly blush suffused their countenances, and each, 
 by a natural impulse, fell on her knees, and burst into 
 tears, as if they had to expiate the very suspicion of 
 crimes their ears had been offended by listening to. 
 
 Notwithstanding the want of success in fixing any 
 crime on the queen, she was, nevertheless, condemned 
 to death ; and from this moment the captivity of her 
 daughter and sister became still more trying. They 
 withdrew from them the trifling indulgences they had 
 hitherto been permitted; and even some objects of no 
 intrinsic value, but dear to them, from the reminiscences 
 they revived, such as the hat of Louis XVI., a Sacred 
 Heart, a prayer for France, and some tapestry which 
 the queen had worked, were snatched from them. 
 
 Their persons were searched thrice a day; and the 
 monsters who came to perform this odious task were 
 often intoxicated. No idea can be formed of the rude- 
 ness and roughness of these ^en toward their royal 
 victims. One day, finding an article missing from the 
 plate-basket, they were accused of having stolen it; 
 Simon the cobbler, and guardian of the dauphin, swore 
 that they forged checks and made false money; in 
 
Elizabeth of France. 209 
 
 fact, there was nothing too absurd to impute to these 
 unfortunate princesses. 
 
 Hitherto Eobespierre had not dared to condemn the 
 august sister of Louis XVI. However desirous he 
 might personally be to destroy her, he feared the 
 favorable opinion the people entertained of this vir- 
 tuous princess too much to attempt her life. A thou- 
 sand other victims were immolated before he dared 
 design the death of the good Madame Elizabeth. At 
 length, he thought the moment had come; he grew 
 bolder with his power, and hesitated not to make her 
 feel it. 
 
 During this time the unsuspicious victim of his 
 cruelty was entirely abandoning herself to God, and 
 passing her time in pious exercises, which she only 
 interrupted in order to direct the studies of, or con- 
 sole, her dear niece. Her example, and the constant 
 practice of the precepts of religion, made a deep im- 
 pression on the heart of this unfortunate orphan. They 
 read together the most consoling passages of the Sacred 
 Scriptures, and thanked Heaven for having granted 
 them this precious resource of comfort in their tribu- 
 lation. It was in this dark cell — become the sanc- 
 tuary of the most sublime virtues — that Elizabeth com- 
 posed the following prayer, which she recited each 
 morning, and which seems so admirably adapted for all 
 
 afflicted minds : — 
 
 
210 Queens and Princesses or France. 
 
 " What may happen to me this day, my God, I 
 know not. All I know is, that nothing will happen 
 which Thou hast not ordained and foreseen from all 
 eternity. That is enough for me, my God; that is 
 enough. I adore Thy eternal and inscrutable designs, 
 and I submit to every thing, most heartily, for the love 
 of Thee. I accept of every thing, and make the sacrifice 
 of every thing. I unite this sacrifice with that of my 
 Savior Jesus Christ, and beg of you, in His holy name 
 and by His infinite merits, patience in my sufi"erings, 
 and the most perfect submission to every thing which it 
 may please Thee to send me or permit me to suffer.'' 
 
 The sacrifice for which she was thus worthily pre- 
 paring herself was at hand. On the 9th of May, 1794, 
 just as the princesses had retired to rest, the bolts of 
 their prison were unfastened, and a violent knocking 
 made at their door. They first dressed themselves, and 
 then opened it. Torn from the arms of her niece, whom 
 she had scarce time to embrace and recommend to re- 
 member her parents' wishes and advice, Madame Eliza- 
 beth was hastily conducted to the prison of the Con- 
 ciergerie, and the next day dragged to the tribunal of 
 blood. In this hitherto unheard-of trial no evidence 
 was heard, no accusation framed; but the trial was con- 
 fined to the following interrogations : — Whether sho 
 had not staunched the wounds of the national guards 
 who had defended the king on the 10th of August? 
 
Elizabeth of France. 211 
 
 If she had not held communication with the son of 
 Louis XVI. ? and if she were not an accomplice of the 
 late king and queen on the days of the 6th of October, 
 20th of June, and 10th of August? To establish this 
 complicity, the president contented himself with asking 
 these questions ; — " Where were you on the 6th of 
 October?'' 
 
 To which Madame Elizabeth replied, with a mild but 
 firm tone, ^'With the king and queen/' 
 "Where were you on the 20th of June?'' 
 " I was with the king and queen." 
 " Where were you on the 10th of August ?" 
 She replied again, with a still firmer tone and im- 
 posing dignity of bearing, " I was still with the king 
 and queen, for I never quitted them under those trying 
 circumstances." 
 
 M. Chaveau-Lagarde, who had been the counsel for 
 Marie Antoinette, also defended Madame Elizabeth; 
 but his generous efibrts were lost upon this sanguinary 
 tribunal. Her condemnation was determined. She 
 received the sentence with the same undaunted courage 
 that her sister had done. Instantly conducted to the 
 place where the other victims were awaiting their 
 doom, she prayed with them, and exhorted them to die 
 resignedly, with such fervent resolution that it seemed 
 to give them supernatural strength. The road to the 
 fatal scaffold was crowded with people, eager to see 
 
212 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 their once-beloved Princess Elizabeth, whose doom 
 they deplored without having the energy or resolution 
 to demand or extort her release from the executioner's 
 hands. On reaching the place of execution, the women 
 condemned to die with her besought her to allow them 
 to embrace her; which she did, again exhorting them 
 to resignation and firmness. On the fatal scafibld, and 
 when her hands were tied, Madame Elizabeth gave a 
 final example of modesty in begging the executioner to 
 pin her handkerchief over her breast. The last act of 
 brutality and cruelty inflicted on this model of Chris- 
 tian princesses was to make her witness the massacre 
 of twenty-four victims before her own immolation took 
 place. It is even stated that she was covered with 
 their blood when she herself was laid under the fatal 
 knife, where she gave her pure soul to God at the early 
 age of thirty years. 
 
Marie Terese. 
 
 213 
 
 mlt ^m% 
 
 DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME, 
 
 PRINCESS OF FRANCE, DAUGHTER OF LOUIS XVI. 
 
 A.D. 1778-— 1851. 
 
 HIS little work would be incomplete were 
 it not to contain some further par- 
 ticulars of tlie third and youngest of 
 the fair prisoners in the Temple, who alone 
 survived of those who entered its dark por- 
 tals, and who but a few years ago was a 
 living witness of the atrocious cruelties in- 
 flicted on her unfortunate parents. 
 Marie Terese was born at Versailles on the 19th of 
 December, 1778. She was Marie Antoinette's first 
 child. As may be imagined, a son was most ardently 
 wished for under such circumstances 3 but, resigning 
 herself to the will of God, her mother, receiving the 
 little princess in her arms, said, ^^ Poor little one ! you 
 were not wanted ; but you shall not be the less dear to 
 me. A son would have more properly belonged to the 
 
214 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 Btate : you belong to me. My whole care shall be de- 
 voted to you; you shall partake of my joys and soothe 
 my pains/^ At this birth, one hundred poor girls were 
 married and portioned by the queen, who gave each 
 five hundred francs, (£20,) and two hundred more (£8) 
 were given for their wedding outfit. Thus nobly was 
 this life inaugurated. 
 
 The queen insisted on taking a part in the education 
 of her daughter; she herself instructed her in religion, 
 and she was ably seconded by her sister-in-law, Madame 
 Elizabeth. At the age of six her mother took her to 
 St. Denis to see her aunt, Madame Louisa, the Carmel- 
 ite nun. It happened that the little princess dropping 
 her handkerchief, one of the religious stooped to pick 
 it up, but the queen instantly interposed, and forbade 
 her, saying, " Let my child pick it up herself; we are 
 in the house of humility, and I wish my daughter, 
 young as she is, to receive here a lesson of obedience 
 and modesty.'' 
 
 The system of parental education was thoroughly 
 adopted with the young princess; the king, queen, 
 and Madame Elizabeth each undertook to give her 
 lessons on certain subjects, and no day passed over with- 
 out their fulfilling their engagement. Madame Eliza- 
 beth was much beloved by Marie Terese; her lively 
 and affectionate disposition had a freshness and youth 
 about it which soon established a perfect understanding 
 
Marie Terese. 215 
 
 between a.iiii axid niece. She passed her youtli some- 
 times with her father's aunts, Mesdames Victoire and 
 Adelaide^ at tho pretty chateau of Bellevue; at other 
 times, with her doar Aunt Elizabeth, under the simple 
 and hospitable roof of Montreuil, and often at Ver- 
 sailles, but most often with her mother, in the gay and 
 lively retreat of the Trianon. She was always attended 
 by one of her governeoses, who were successively Mes- 
 dames de Guemente, de Mackau, de Polignac, and de 
 Tourzel. At the age of nine she was affianced to her 
 cousin the Duke of Angouleme, son of the Count 
 d'Artois. A little incident which occurred about this 
 time will tend to show how early the princess inured 
 herself to suiTer patiently, which she was destined soon 
 to have such extraordinary means of practising. One 
 day Madame de Mackau trod on her foot, without 
 noticing it. The princess must have suffered much, 
 for it bled ; but she uttered no complaint, and it was 
 only perceived when, on undressing at night, her stock- 
 ing was found to be saturated with blood. ^^Why did 
 you not tell me at the time?'^ asked her governess, 
 reproaching herself for her awkwardness. ^' Why, 
 because if, now I have ceased to suffer, it afflicts you 
 so much, what would not have been your pain if you 
 had known it when I was suffering?'' replied the 
 princess. 
 
 When the revolution burst forth, the royal family 
 
216 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 were dragged to Paris, as we have seen. It was during 
 this enforced stay at the Tuileries that Madame Rojale 
 (as the eldest daughter of the King of France was always 
 called) made her first communion, in the month of 
 April, 1790. Before entering the chapel, she fell on 
 her knees at her father's feet, who gave her his blessing 
 with great emotion, and addressed to her some appro- 
 priate words, thus terminating, with an allusion to the 
 ancient custom of bestowing rich presents on the '^chil- 
 dren of France,'^ on this first great solemn occasion in 
 their lives :^ — " I know you are too reasonable, my daugh- 
 ter, to think, at the moment when your thoughts should 
 be entirely occupied with adorning your soul and making 
 it a fitting resting-place for the King of heaven, of any 
 worldly gifts I could bestow on you. Besides, my 
 child, the public misery is very great ; the poor are in 
 deep distress; and I am sure you would rather dispense 
 with rich ornaments than wear them knowing that they 
 want bread/^ 
 
 In the preceding lives we have seen that the young 
 princess shared in the dangers and sufferings which 
 surrounded her royal parents, and of which she has left 
 a touching and most minute description. From these 
 we will make a few extracts, which apply more particu- 
 larly to her own share of suffering in those cells in 
 which she passed so many years of her youthful life. 
 
 On one of the many occasions on which the King 
 
Marie Terese. 217 
 
 Louis XVI. had to listen to the coarse language and 
 threats of his jailers, ^^ my brother, the dauphin, burst 
 into tears, and ran and hid himself in his room, to give 
 way in secret to his grief. I ran to him, and did my 
 best to console him ; but he said he seemed to see our 
 father already killed.^' *^ While I was receiving my 
 lessons, a municipal guard was always in the room, 
 looking over my shoulder to see that I did not write 
 consipiracy. They took the newspapers from us, for 
 fear we should learn what was passing abroad. One 
 day the guard told us that if the enemy approached 
 Paris we should all be slain. He added, that he only 
 felt compassion for my brother; but he, although so 
 young, being the son of a tyrant, must die. Such were 
 the scenes we had to witness almost daily. '^ She gives 
 the following account of the manner in which the royal 
 prisoners passed the day: — ^* We rose at seven o'clock, 
 and prayed till eight ; we then dressed and breakfasted. 
 After breakfast my father instructed my brother until 
 eleven o'clock, and then amused him for an hour until 
 noon, when we went to take our usual walk in the 
 courtyard, whatever the weather might be; for the 
 guards insisted on seeing us, to assure themselves of our 
 being present. We walked till two, at which hour we 
 dined. After dinner my father and mother amused 
 themselves with backgammon or cards, or, rather, pre- 
 tended to play, in. order that they might have some 
 
218 Queens and Princeeses of France. 
 
 private conversation. At four o^clock my mother re» 
 tired with me and my brother, for the king generally 
 slept at that hour. At six my brother rejoined the 
 king, who instructed and amused him until nine, at 
 which time we supped. After supper my mother put 
 the dauphin to bed ; we did not, however, retire until 
 eleven o'clock. My mother worked a great deal of em- 
 broidery, while I read or studied. My aunt (Madame 
 Elizabeth) was always either at her prayers, or reciting 
 the divine office, or reading holy books, which my 
 mother often requested her to read aloud. '^ 
 
 After the death of her unfortunate father, Marie 
 Terese intimates that a little more liberty was allowed 
 them, and at one time it was even thought that they 
 were to be set free. ^' But nothing,^' she continues, 
 *^ could appease the intense anguish which my mother 
 suffered ; all hope seemed to have fled from her breast, 
 and life or death became entirely indifferent to her. 
 She sometimes regarded us with a look which made us 
 tremble. Fortunately, at this time I fell very ill, 
 which caused her some change in nursing me. My 
 physician (Bremer) and my surgeon (Lacaze) were 
 called in, and they cured me in a month/' 
 
 The cruel abduction of the young dauphin she thus 
 describes: — ^^On the 3d of July, a decree of the Con- 
 vention was read to us, ordering my brother to be 
 separated from us and lodged in the strongest room in 
 
Marie Terese. 219 
 
 the tower. Scarcely had he heard it than he threw 
 himself in my mother's arms, screaming dreadfully, 
 and declaring he would never leave her. On her part, 
 my mother was stunned by this cruel order ; but she 
 would not deliver up my brother, and placed herself 
 against his bed, on which she had placed him, and be- 
 tween him and the municipals. They, determined to 
 take him, threatened to employ violence, and to call 
 the guard. My mother then told them they must kill 
 her before they should snatch her child from her, and 
 an hour thus passed in resistance on her part, and in 
 insults and threats on theirs, mingled with the tears 
 and the entreaties of us alj. At length they threatened 
 so boldly to kill both him and me if he were not given 
 up, that my mother gave way, out of love for us. We 
 raised him, (my aunt and I, for my poor mother's 
 strength was exhausted,) and after we had dressed him, 
 she led him to the municipals, covering him with her 
 tears, for she foresaw that she should never see him 
 more ! The poor child embraced us all tenderly, and 
 left us, crying bitterly, with the municipals. My 
 mother besought them to ask the General Assembly for 
 permission to see her son, if only at meal-times. This 
 they promised to do. She was completely overcome by 
 this separation; but she was still more afflicted on 
 hearing that it was Simon the cobbler who had been 
 charged with the custody of her unhappy son. She 
 
220 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 asked incessantly to see him, but in vain; my brotlief 
 also wept incessantly, and begged to be allowed to see 
 us/' 
 
 Next, her beloved mother was snatched from her 
 arms, and for a long time (a year and a half) she re- 
 mained in complete ignorance of her fate. '^In the be- 
 ginning of September,'^ she continues, "I had an illness, 
 which was chiefly caused by my anxiety about my 
 mother. '^ Fresh orders came from the revolutionary 
 tyrants to keep the aunt and niece in still closer con- 
 finement. " We were obliged to make our beds and 
 sweep out our room, (we were now allowed but one.) 
 We were not permitted to hjive any servant to wait on 
 us.'' The young princess was dragged from her re- 
 treat and brought, ^^for the first time in her life," into 
 the presence of men who subjected her to so searching 
 and degrading an interrogatory, that she was ^^ struck 
 with such horror and indignation, that, overcome with 
 fear as she was, she could not refrain from telling 
 them that their conduct was infamous." This dis- 
 graceful examination lasted three hours, these com- 
 missioners doubtless hoping to intimidate a girl of so 
 tender an age. " But," the princess adds, '' the life 1 
 had led since I was four years old, and the example of 
 my parents, gave me greater strength of mind than 
 they could have supposed." 
 
 ^J.'he princess's next grief was the loss of her beloved 
 
Marie Terese. 221 
 
 aunt and second mother, who was the next royal victim 
 of this insatiable revolutionary tribunal. The day after 
 Madame Elizabeth's death, the young princess asked 
 repeatedly of her jailers for her mother and her aunt, 
 without dreaming that they were dead. She fancied 
 they were only taken and confined in another prison. 
 It was only after repeated requests, and the continued 
 silence and mournful looks of the attendants, that the 
 terrible truth broke in upon her mind. She then 
 asked to have some female attendant, but this was 
 brutally refused. 
 
 About this time the little dauphin sank under the 
 neglect and cruelty of his guardian. ^' From the day 
 on which the Convention feared no pretender to the 
 crown, it allowed public pity to have a voice. ^' Nine 
 days after the death of Louis XYII. the town of 
 Orleans (formerly delivered by a young heroic girl) 
 dared to intercede for the innocent daughter of Louis 
 XVI. This city sent deputies to the Convention to 
 beg the deliverance of this young captive, and her re- 
 storation to her family. Nantes and other towns fol- 
 lowed the example. The first result of these entreaties 
 V^as somewhat to diminish the rigors of the princess's 
 confinement. At length, on the 19th of December, 
 1795, (her birthday,) she was liberated from her prison, 
 at midnight, to avoid any public emotion on her ap- 
 pearance, and conducted on foot to an adjoining street, 
 
222 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 where a coacli awaited her, to conduct her to the fron- 
 tiers. Though travelling under the name of Sophia, 
 her strong resemblance to her unfortunate mothei 
 caused her to be frequently recognised, and as often to 
 receive the homage of sympathizing hearts. 
 
 Marie Terese was received with open arms by the 
 court of Austria. An establishment similar to that of 
 an archduchess was appropriated to her. The princess 
 found her uncle, Louis XYIII , at Mittau. On seeing 
 his carriage approach to meet her, she sprang from her 
 own, and, throwing herself in her uncle's arms, said, 
 ^* At last I see you again. ... At length I am happy. 
 Watch over me : be my father. '^ The Duke of An- 
 gouleme, who was present, restrained by his deep respect 
 for his affianced bride, could but shed tears of joy, with 
 which he bedewed her hand while pressing it to his 
 lips. Her emotion was so great in meeting the Abbe 
 Edgeworth, that this good priest was about to call for 
 her attendants ; but she stopped him, saying, " Let me 
 cry before you ; for these tears and your presence com- 
 fort me much.'' 
 
 Yery shortly after her arrival, her nuptials with the 
 Duke of Angoulerae were celebrated, the venerable 
 abbe assisting at the ceremony. But even now the 
 ^^ sorrowful daughter'' was not to enjoy happiness unal- 
 loyed by affliction. Political reasons obliged the royal 
 exiles to leave Mittau in the depth of a severe winter, 
 
Marie Terese. 223 
 
 and, amidst the greatest privations and hardships, travel 
 to Memel. On their road they witnessed, as well as 
 felt, great misery and suffering; and, when the Duchess 
 of Angouleme was spoken to of her privations, she 
 replied, ^^ My own hardships are nothing. I suffer 
 much more from the sufferings I see around me/' This 
 sympathizing interest for all those who shared her 
 exile, for all who in general suffered and mourned, ren- 
 dered her the object of the love and veneration of all 
 who were happy enough to come near her, whether 
 Frenchmen or foreigners. " She is an angel ! she is 
 an angel V was repeated on all sides. 
 
 From Memel the illustrious exiles continued their 
 route to Koenigsberg, and at length reached Warsaw. 
 In this city they found some vestiges of the greatness 
 of their house. They were in the capital of a king- 
 dom over which one of their ancestors (Henry YIII.) 
 had ruled. They resided in the house which had be- 
 longed to the sister of Stanislaus, the fugitive king, to 
 whom France had given an asylum, and who had in 
 return bestowed on France (in the person of his daugh- 
 ter Mary Leczinska) a great and virtuous queen. It 
 was here that they received news of the murder of the 
 Duke d'Enghien, (20th of March, 1804.) The Duchesa 
 d'AngoulCme wroto, on this painful occasion^ the fol- 
 lowing letter to the Prince de Conde : — 
 
i24 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 ^' My Cousin : — 
 
 " I cannot refrain from expressing to you myself the 
 deep grief I receive from the blow which strikes you. 
 Notwithstanding all I have suffered, the cruel losses I- 
 have sustained, I never could have imagined this fright- 
 ful event, which places us all in mourning. I went to 
 hee the Princess Louisa this morning. I found her in 
 that calm and resigned spirit which religion and resig- 
 tion to the Divine will can alone impart. She thinks 
 but of you : she thinks unceasingly of you, my cousin; 
 and then tears come to her relief. I cannot write to 
 the Duke de Bourbon ; but J beg of you to be the mes- 
 senger of my sentiments to him, and be assured of my 
 prayers that, sustained by your courage, your health 
 may bear up against the natural and deep grief of our 
 cruel and common loss.'^ 
 
 Again political intrigues were at work to drive the 
 royal exiles from their peaceful sojourn at Warsaw; 
 and, Paul I. being dead, the Emperor Alexander in- 
 vited them back to Mittau. Here the venerable Abb6 
 p]dgeworth went to receive the reward of his many vir- 
 tues and his courageous devotion to fallen majesty. He 
 was stricken by fever while engaged in visiting the nu- 
 merous French prisoners detained in this place. De- 
 spite every entreaty, the devoted daughter of Louis 
 XVI. insisted on attending, herself, the sick-bed of her 
 
Marie Terese. 225 
 
 fatlier-confessor, and close his dying eyes ; and, not even 
 content with this, she (contrary to all royal usage) fol- 
 lowed his remains to the tomb, amid the respect and 
 esteem of all the Catholic population. 
 
 After the battle of Tilsit, Russia being again allied 
 with Napoleon, the Bourbons were again obliged to 
 seek another refuge. This time they turned their eyes 
 to England, where the king instantly repaired, leaving 
 the queen and Duchess of Angouleme and suite to follow 
 him. 
 
 The duchess, escorted by the Marquis de Bormay, 
 reached Harwich in August, 1808. She repaired to 
 tjrosfield Hall, in Essex, which had been placed at the 
 disposal of the exiled family by the Marquis of Buck- 
 ingham. Here the royal exiles spent two years, during 
 which time the queen of Louis XYIII. died, and 
 thenceforth the duties of directing the royal household 
 devolved on the Duchess of Angouleme. Not long 
 after this, Louis hired Hartwell Hall, situated between 
 Oxford and Aylesbury, for the reception of himself and 
 suite. The duchess, even in these straitened circum- 
 stances, failed not to exercise that benevolence so cha- 
 racteristic of her disposition } and both the poor in the 
 immediate neighborhood and the numeio^is French 
 exiles in and near London had cause to bless her chari- 
 table heart. ^' Occasionally, visits were made to the 
 capital, not for pleasure's sake, but as pious pilgrims to 
 If 
 
226 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 the humble little chapel in King Street, (or, rather, 
 Little George Street,) Portman Square, which was 
 founded by the poor French exiles of the early part of 
 the Eevolution. Here, amidst noises incidental to its 
 situation in a mews, the crowing of cocks and other 
 sounds bespeaking an humble loca:lity, in the narrowest 
 and meanest of temples, and beneath the lowliest of 
 roofs, fifteen of the hierarchy of the French Church 
 have officiated at one time, arrayed in all the gorgeous- 
 ness befitting their rank and the holy service of God, 
 while before them kings, and the sons and daughters 
 of kings, have been seen meekly kneeling and praying, 
 not for restored greatness, but for renewed minds ; not 
 for rescue from straitened condition, but for pardon for 
 the errors committed in it, and strength to bear it more 
 in accordance with their Christian profession/'* 
 
 The apartments of the Duke and Duchess of An- 
 gouleme were at the southwest angle of the hall. Her 
 profoundly melancholy aspect is still remembered at 
 Hartwell and its neighborhood. But she did not allow 
 her sorrows to subdue her : she cherished them without 
 giving them permission to conquer her. She rose early, 
 — at five in summer and six in winter. She walked in 
 
 * How many of my readers have witnessed similar scenes in our 
 own times, on occasions of the first communion and confirmation 
 of the grandsons of another exiled queen of the French, a model 
 of piety and patient resignation to the Divine will 1 
 
Marie Terese. 227 
 
 tlie grounds with a sort of stern rapidity, was reserved, 
 disliked to encounter strangers or to be noticed by 
 them. 
 
 On the invitation of the sons of the Count d'Artois 
 to the continent to act in furtherance of the old mon- 
 archical cause, all were more or less affected by it; 
 while the duchess, calm and serene, calculated the 
 chances of success and suggested measures to insure 
 it. "Sir/' she said to her husband, "would that I 
 could take your place V' and to the Count d'Artois she 
 remarked, " Act so that the crown shall descend only 
 to your children. '^ "As for you, sire,'' she added, ad- 
 dressing the king, " I am satisfied you will do all in 
 your power to consolidate it. You will succeed ; for my 
 martyred parents and St. Louis will lend their aid to 
 such a cause." The princes departed. The duchess 
 remained to pray for their success. 
 
 On the 25th of March — the Annunciation of our 
 Lady — the deputies from Bordeaux, arriving to announce 
 the proclamation of Louis XYIII., found the duchess 
 praying before our Lady's altar. On the 24th of April, 
 1814, the duchess left Hartwell with the king. Their 
 route was a complete triumph; every steeple poured 
 forth its joyful peal as they passed, and the drapeau 
 hlanc and white cockades met their delighted gaze on all 
 sides, on the road, till they reached Stanmore, where 
 the prince-regent awaited the restored monarch, and 
 
228 Queens and Princesses op France. 
 
 accompanied him to Dover, where he took leave of hia 
 guests on board the Royal Sovereign. It is said that 
 the prince's farewell to Louis XVIII. was, " that the 
 best wish he could form for him was that he might 
 never behold his royal face again !'^ Another saying, 
 attributed to the duchess, may be recorded here. Their 
 reception was so thoroughly enthusiastic, that she 
 asked " why the Bourbons ever quitted a land which 
 could exhibit such demonstrations of joy and gladness 
 at again receiving them.'' Throughout their progress 
 in France the " orphan of the Temple" was the great 
 object of curiosity and respect, and the manifestations 
 of sympathy rendered in her presence touched her, 
 nearly robbing her of all eloquence, and reducing her 
 to the oft-repeated expression, ^^ How happy I am to 
 find myself surrounded by the French !" The people, 
 indeed, seemed anxious to make some reparation for all 
 the cruel sufferings to which they had subjected her in 
 her youth ; and, when they cheered her on her way to 
 Notre Dame, it was perhaps with the feeling that she 
 was passing toward that once desecrated temple, not 
 alone to return thanks for herself, but as a mediatrix 
 to obtain pardon for them. In front of the altar, 
 during the whole period of the religious ceremony, she 
 remained prostrate, unobservant of the gorgeous display 
 around her, and, in the centre of the countless and 
 brilliant crowd, as much al-one as though she were 
 
Marie Terese. 229 
 
 kneeling solitary in a desert, communing in lier heart 
 with God. 
 
 It will be scarce expected in this short notice to 
 follow the returned princess through the scenes of 
 former joy and sorrow, and to portray the varied feel* 
 ings the sight of them excited in her sensitive heart. 
 Her first care was to find out the place where her 
 parents' remains had been buried, in the old cemetery 
 of the Madeleine, which had been sold by auction ! 
 and purchased by an old advocate, who lived in an ad- 
 joining house, to watch over the spot consecrated by 
 the remains of his unfortunate monarch, and, if possible, 
 one day restore it to his only surviving child. This 
 happy day he lived to see. Previous to the removal of 
 the royal remains to the abbey church af St. Denis, 
 with great state, on the twenty-second anniversary of 
 the king's martyrdom, the Duchess of Angouleme, 
 assisted by her husband, laid the first stone of the 
 mortuary and expiatory chapel, the existence of which 
 is as much a monument of her own piety and affection 
 as a mausoleum to the martyred dead. On its comple- 
 tion ^^ it formed a shrine, at which few weeks passed 
 without finding her kneeling in devotion, robbing the 
 past of its bitterness through earnest prayer/' 
 
 Though again in the royal palaces of her country, 
 the duchess's course of life was influenced by her early 
 discipline. She rose daily throuo;hout the year at five; 
 
230 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 it her own fire in winter, and made her early breakfast 
 a cup of coffee, at six. She heard Mass daily at seven. 
 At eight she gave audience to Charlet, the dispenser of 
 her charities. In the distribution of her revenue to 
 these good purposes, she exhibited great liberaUty, 
 mingled with firmness and discretion ] but, on assurance 
 of desert, abundant aid followed. The value of time 
 was excellently well appreciated by the duchess, and 
 even in her daily carriage-rides she generally took with 
 her some work, or a book. Her meals were served with 
 the utmost plainness; and profound slumber already 
 possessed herself and household, when in the other 
 apartments of the palace arrivals to some grand ball or 
 party were commencing. 
 
 Of the manner in which her holy and calm sufi"ering 
 and great piety caused her to be regarded by the king 
 and royal family, an instance to the point is recorded on 
 the occasion of the meeting of the Princess Caroline of 
 Naples (Duchess of Berri) outside . Paris. Louis re- 
 ceived her with great warmth. " First,'^ he said, '' I will 
 present you to your husband. Here is your brother; I 
 am your father; and here'' — taking the Duchess of 
 Angouleme by the hand — ^' is our augclF^ 
 
 The moment she heard of the assassination of the 
 Duke of Berri, she flew to his side, remarking em- 
 phatically that '' her place was ever among those who 
 guffercd; and who needed consolation.'' She spent 
 
Marie Terese. 231 
 
 some time in preparing him for deatli, and at last 
 wLispered in his ear, ^^ Courage, brother; and when 
 God summons you hence, ask my father there to pray 
 for France and us/' 
 
 One more bright day in the life of the duchess was 
 that on which the widow of the Duke of Berri gave 
 birth to a son, on the 29th of September, 1820. She 
 was in a state of ecstasy, now bearing the child in her 
 arms to show it to the people, and then returning it to 
 his mother with the unselfish remark, '' that now she 
 was resigned to remain ever motherless.'^ 
 
 After the death of Louis XVIII., at whose bedside 
 she also knelt, the Duchess of Angouleme devoted her 
 time and attention to the education of the heir to the 
 throne, the young Duke of Bordeaux. She early taught 
 him that best philosophy, which stands him in good use 
 still in his lengthened exile. While engaged in this 
 delightful task, she little dreamed that peril and banish- 
 ment from her helle France were so soon to befall her. 
 Being absent from Paris on " the days of July,'' 1830, 
 she with difficulty escaped from the little town of 
 Tonnerre, and joined the royal family at Bambouillet, 
 whence they proceeded to Cherbourg, on their third 
 exile from the land of their birth and their sovereignty. 
 
 Again did England open her arms to the royal exiles. 
 After landing at Weymouth, they at once proceeded to 
 the residence of Cardinal Weld, Lul worth Castle, near 
 
232 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 "Wareham, where tbe old device above the portal, ^^NIl 
 sine Numine/' told tliem of a truth, which all who 
 looked up to read it acknowledged in their hearts. 
 Lulworth Castle had in its day afforded hospitality to 
 four kings, — namely, to James I., to Charles II., James 
 II., and to George III. They thence proceeded to 
 Edinburgh, where they received hospitality at Holyrood 
 Castle, whence, after a short stay, they went'to Germany. 
 Three years and a half were passed at Prague. While 
 here, th^. duchess paid occasional visits to Vienna, where 
 she was received (as the daughter of Marie Antoinette 
 should be) with mingled compassion, warmth, and re- 
 spect. To Prague succeeded Goritz, as the place of 
 ro^^al exile. Here died Charles X., — another wound in 
 the oft-pierced heart of the duchess. A still deeper 
 one awaited her, — the death of her husband, the good 
 and piolis Duke of Angouleme. The duchess turned 
 from the sad sight of his lifeless corpse, to raise her 
 hands to heaven, as if ^' to express her willingness, for 
 Heaven's sake, to offer up this one more sacrifice. She 
 then bent gently down, and taking the unconscious 
 hand, she kissed it repeatedly, bathing it with her tears. 
 That hand had rested in hers more than half a century 
 before, in the golden galleries and in the gay parterres 
 of Versailles. What a world of sorrowful change, and 
 terrible visitation, and brief happiness, and long misery 
 there had been between those days of youthful great 
 
Marie Terese. 233 
 
 ness and this season of old age in exile ! Versailles and 
 Goritz I power and destitution; the words expressed 
 two great extremes, and between them there was almost 
 a whole life of desolation and trial/^ 
 
 Shortly after this death the Duchess of Angouleme 
 again removed, with her nephew and niece, to Frohs- 
 dorf; that is, ^'vil-lage of joy," a strangely-named place, 
 wherein mourners should bury their sorrow : this was 
 to be her last move in life. ^' Hitherto, at nearly every 
 stage in her life, the duchess had been called to wit- 
 ness the death of some one whom she loved. The 
 fellest blow of all had been dealt her in the Temple. 
 There she had been deprived of father, mother, brother, 
 and aunt, — all basely murdered. At Mittau she had 
 closed the eyes of the Abbe Edgeworth. At Warsaw 
 she had w^ept over the assassination of her cousin, the 
 Duke d'Enghien. The residence at Hartwell had been 
 saddened by the demise of the calm consort of Louis 
 XVIII. , and by that of several faithful servants who 
 had place in her heart as friends. In Paris she had 
 sto6d by to see the Duke of Berri pass away in his 
 manhood, and her uncle in his age. Once more in 
 exile, she had smoothed the pillow of the dying Charles 
 X. and received the last sigh of the last of the dauphins. 
 At whose death-bed w^as she to be the w^atcher at Erohs- 
 dorf? It was here that she was to pass to her owr 
 
234 QuEENig AND Princesses of France. 
 
 recompense and rest; and in this view^ tlie ^village of 
 joy^ was not inaptly named/' 
 
 She was seiz-ed with her last illness on the eve of 
 her fete^ or saint's day, 15th of October, 1851. On 
 her nephew's retiring on the evening of that day, she 
 placed her hand on his arm and said, " No power that 
 i& of earth can prevent me from going to chapel to- 
 morrow. 1 mu?>t render those duties to the memory of 
 my mother, in which I have never yet failed." No 
 demonstration of opposition to this pious resolution was 
 expressed; nor was it needed. In the night, more 
 alarming symptoms supervened. Madame de Sainte 
 Preuve, her attendant, was seated at her bedside. ^Oly 
 dear child,'' said the dying princess, ^^ the hour of our 
 separation is at hand ; that sound that you hear in my 
 chest is the herald of death/' Madame de Sainte 
 Preuve fell on her knees at the bedside, and could not 
 refrain from weeping. "What is that," said the 
 duchess, as she felt the tears, " falling upon my 
 hand?" and then she turned to fervent prayer for 
 blessings upon her country, for pardon to all who had 
 injured her, and finally fur ^' forgiveness to herself, a 
 great sinner, unworthy of tlie mercies of God." 
 
 At coming day, she endeavored, notwithstanding all 
 f^ersuasion, to rise and proceed to the chapel, to pray 
 for her mother, on this, the anniversary of that mother's 
 execution. The effort was too much for her, and she 
 
Marie Terese, 235 
 
 abandoned it; but a melancholy pleasure was afforded 
 her by the assurance that the Apostolic Nuncio had 
 already offered up the holy sacrifice at the altar of the 
 chapel for Marie Antoinette. The duchess then par- 
 took of the holy viaticum with great devotion. Some 
 amelioration of the symptoms followed, although her 
 own and the emperor's physician had agreed that 
 the inflammatory attack on the lungs, under which 
 she was suffering, admitted of no hope of recovery. 
 The duchess profited by this temporary improvement, 
 and, in obedience to her orders, she was transferred in 
 a chair to her sitting-room. Here she calmly and pa- 
 tiently inspected all her papers, regulated the affairs 
 of her " colony/^ as she called her poor, gave audi- 
 ences of leave to various members of the household, 
 and sent messages of regard and remembrance to all 
 whom she could not admit to her presence. She forgot 
 no one; and especial were the messages of love or gra- 
 titude forwarded to those whose parents had perished 
 through the destruction of her own. ^^ I should much 
 like to say farewell to M. de Yilette,^^ she said, " be- 
 cause of his attachment to my nephew; but he is very 
 deaf, and I have not strength to raise my voice. 1 
 could wish, too, once more to see the Duchess of Levis, 
 were she here; but I am full of years and infirmities. 
 God's holy will be done !" Her last occupation was in 
 arranging, with M. Charlet, the disposal of her munifi- 
 
236 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 cent bounty to tlie poor. At the termination of this 
 employment, she became so dangerously ill that Baron 
 Thevenot urged on her the necessity of undisturbed 
 repose, and the duchess was once more conveyed to 
 the bed, from which she was never able to rise more 
 The fever increased upon her, and her brain was 
 slightly affected; but between her and God all seemed 
 calm and lucid. " Lord, I humbly ask Thy pardon for 
 my faults,^^ was her unceasing cry. ^' God, come in 
 aid to Thy humble servant in this the hour of eternal 
 judgment,'^ was her fervent prayer. She gradually 
 ceased to be able to recognise those around her; but 
 the voice of the Duke of Bordeaux, as he whispered 
 affectionately in her ear, seemed ever to revive her. 
 Her hand lay in his as she uttered a feeble farewell; 
 after which she never spoke again. Those present con- 
 tinued kneeling and weeping around her. Madame de 
 Sainte Preuve occasionally moistened her parched lips, 
 and, intelligently interpreting every feeble movement, 
 assisted her royal mistress through a long but speech- 
 less agony. The Abbe Trebuquet's voice alone was 
 heard, reciting the prayers for the dead. Suddenly 
 these ceased, and a cold terror seemed to pierce every 
 heart. Above the couch was suspended a picture repre- 
 senting the angel of consolation showing to Louis XVI. 
 the splendor of celestial glory. As each looked up 
 when the abbe's voice ceased to be heard, the worthy 
 
Marie Terese. 237 
 
 priest was seen with his hand and cross pointing to 
 this picture^ uniting thus to the memory of the great 
 expiation of Calvary the mournful remembrances of the 
 21st of January and the present sacrifice of proscribed 
 virtue expiring in exile. " Our souls/' adds the eye- 
 wituess, whose account of this supreme moment is here 
 followed^— '^ our souls understood his soul^ and our 
 hearts repeated with his^ ' Daughter of St. Louis and 
 of Louis XYL, ascend to heaven T '^ 
 
 The Franciscan convent of Goritz once more opened 
 its vaults, wherein, on Tuesday, the 28th of October, 
 was deposited all that was mortal of her who had so 
 ennobled immortality. It has been said that the best 
 funeral oration of this crownless queen is to be found 
 in the will which she drew up with her own hand, and 
 in which are to be viewed the reflection of her cha- 
 racter and the impress of her mind. It is a document 
 worthy to be placed by the side of the will of Louis 
 XVI. It is thus conceived : — 
 
 '' In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of 
 the Holy Ghost. 
 
 ^'I submit in every thing to the will of Divine Provi- 
 dence; I fear not death; and, notwithstanding my few 
 merits, I trust entirely to the mercy of God, begging 
 of Him to afford me grace and time to receive the last 
 sacraments of the Church, with the most fervent piety. 
 
 ^* I die in the faith of the Catholic, Apostolical, and 
 
238 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 E-oman Church, in which I have lived as faithfully as I 
 was able, and to which I am indebted for all the con- 
 solations of my life. 
 
 '^ Following the example of my parents, I forgive 
 from the bottom of my heart, and without exception, 
 all those who ever have injured or offended me, sin- 
 cerely begging of God to extend His mercy to them, 
 as well as to me, and imploring of Him to forgive me 
 all my faults. 
 
 '' I thank all the French who have remained faithful 
 to our family for the proofs of attachment they have 
 given us, and for the sufferings and the ills they have 
 endured for our sakes. 
 
 " I implore the Almighty to shower His blessings 
 upon France, which I have always loved, even amidst 
 my most bitter afflictions. 
 
 "I thank the Emperor of Austria for the asylum 
 which he accorded me and my family in his states. I 
 am grateful for all the marks of interest and friendship 
 I have received from the imperial fauiily, especially 
 under most painful circumstances. I am* also grateful 
 for the sentiments which a large number of his sub- 
 jects, especially those of Goritz, have manifested toward 
 ^e. 
 
 " Having always looked upon my nephew, Henry, 
 and my niece, Louisa, a& my children, I give them my 
 maternal benediction. They have had the happiness 
 
Marie Terese. 239 
 
 of being brought up in our holy religion ; may they 
 ever rema^ln faithful to it! may they ever be worthy 
 descendants of St. Louis I May my nephew devote hia 
 genius to the accomplishment of the great duties which 
 his position imposes upon him ! May he never deviate 
 from the paths of moderation, justice, and truth ! 
 
 *' I appoint my nephew, Henry, Count of Chambord, 
 my sole legatee. 
 
 '' I wish my remains to be buried at Goritz, in the 
 vault of the Franciscans, between my husband and his 
 father. Let no solemn mortuary service be celebrated 
 for me; but let Masses be said for the repose of my 
 soul.'' 
 
 Here follow some legacies to old servants, gifts to the 
 poor, and souvenirs of affection. 
 
240 Queens and Trincesses of France. 
 
 4i antes g'g^mljoisi^, 
 
 DUCHESS OF BRITTANY. 
 A.D. 1427—1485. 
 
 K| HIS noble ladj was born at Kieux, a few 
 leagues from Eidon, in Brittany, on 
 tlie 28tli of September, 1427. Her 
 parents were Louis d'Amboise, Viscount 
 of Thours, Prince and Lord of Talmont, 
 and Lady Mary of Kieux. Scarcely had 
 the infant left her nurse's arms, when, 
 accc'rding to the custom of the times, the 
 princes and nobles of France and Bretagne sought to 
 obtain the promise of her hand in marriage for their 
 sons. But her parents, inspired doubtless by Divine 
 Providence, refused to bind their child to any alliance 
 which might one day stand in the way of her following 
 any other vocation or design, which the x\lmighty might 
 have for her eternal welfare. 
 
 The prudence of this resolution was generally ap- 
 proved, except by the Lord of La Tremouille, grand 
 
Frances d'Amboise. 241 
 
 cliamberlain of France, who had hoped to form an 
 alliance for his son. His pride was so wounded by the 
 refusal, that he resolved to be revenged, and used all 
 his efforts to injure the Lord of Amboise in the eyes of 
 the King of France. 
 
 At this time the Count of Eichemont, Constable of 
 France, came to dwell at the neighboring castle of 
 Parthenay. During his abode there, he frequently 
 visited the Lord of Amboise, and soon became delighted 
 with the infantine graces of Frances, and, foretelling a 
 brilliant career for her, asked her in marriage for Prince 
 Peter, the second son of his brother, Duke John of 
 Brittany. The Lord of Amboise and his lady, dazzled 
 by the bright future which such an alliance promised, 
 yet still anxious not to prejudice their daughter's choice, 
 gave a conditional promise. 
 
 The constable mstantly repaired to his brother^s court 
 at Rennes, to see whether he had formed any projects 
 for his son. The duke readily consented to the pro- 
 posed alliance, and even confided the education of his 
 son to his brother, who took him to the French court. 
 Owing, however, to the continued enmity of the Lord 
 of Tremouille, he was obliged shortly afterward to send 
 him back to his father's court, and, in order to make 
 him a more advantageous match, bestowed on him 
 several of his own lordships. 
 
 Shortly afterward, Frances was sent to the court of 
 Q 
 
242 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 Duke John, and her mother took the greatest pains to 
 provide her with a pious and learned governess. The 
 little princess was received with due honor and respect 
 at the court of Brittany ; but no words can describe the 
 tenderness which the duchess exhibited toward her. 
 This lady was extremely virtuous. During the last 
 sickness of the holy Vincent Ferrier, she had attended 
 on him with the same assiduous care as she would have 
 given to her father^ the King of France. The duchess 
 determined to take charge of Frances's education herself, 
 and to plant in her young heart the seeds of virtues, 
 which so eminently distinguished her in her after-life. 
 
 Frances was gifted with a very good disposition, and 
 profited greatly by the example of her pious instructress, 
 so much so that one day she was found in tears, and, 
 on being asked the reason, said ^^ that it grieved her to 
 see the duke, duchess, and all the court, partaking of 
 the blessed body of her Lord, while she, on account of 
 her youth only, was deprived of this great privilege." 
 The duchess, after much entreaty, prevailed on her con- 
 fessor to admit the child to the holy communion, despite 
 her very tender age. Frances soon after this sustained 
 a severe blow, in the death of her benefactress and 
 model. 
 
 As soon as Frances had attained her fifteenth year, 
 she was solemnly united to Prince Peter, in the presence 
 of the Duke Francis, his brother-in-law, and the Con- 
 
Frances d'Amboise. 243 
 
 stable of France, and all the prelates and barons of 
 Brittany. At the request of Frances, the prince retired 
 to his estate at Guingamp, in which quiet retreat they 
 spent the first years of their wedded life. But the 
 enemy of mankind, soon envying the tranquil and happy 
 lot of the princess, began to excite, by the wicked 
 mouths of flattering courtiers, unfounded suspicions in 
 the mind of the pi^ice her husband, and sowed in his 
 mind the seeds of jealousy and suspicion. Despite this 
 change in his sentiments toward her, Frances continued 
 mild and submissive in her behavior, and altered in 
 nothing her respectful attentions toward him. But this 
 rather enraged than pacified him. While playing and 
 singing some sacred songs, taught her by the late 
 duchess, with her maids, the prince suddenly entered 
 the room, and rushed on her as il to strike her. The 
 humble Frances fell on her knees, and exclaimed, *^My 
 lord and husband, defer for a while your anger, and 
 when we are alone you can inflict any punishment I 
 have deserved.^^ 
 
 He then instantly ordered her to her bedchamber, 
 and soon after entered with a handful of fresh sharp 
 twigs, with which he began to beat his poor wife 
 over the face and neck until she was bathed in her 
 innocent blood. During this rough treatment, she 
 uttered no complaint, but said, " My dear friend, believe 
 that I would rather die than ofiend God or you. I 
 
244 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 deserve mucli more than this for having ever offended 
 so good a God. May He in His mercy vouchsafe to 
 pardon both of us/' The prince then still furthei 
 afflicted his wife by dismissing all the attendants whom 
 the duchess his mother had appointed to attend her. 
 
 The consequences of this treatment were to throw 
 her on a bed of sickness, during which her old govern- 
 ess, by incessant entreaties, obtained leave to attend on 
 her. When convalescent, her husband sent to ask per- 
 mission to come and see her, and, on entering, threw 
 himself at her feet, confessed the wrong he had done 
 her, and humbly asked pardon. She instantly bade 
 him rise, and said, '' My lord and husband, I pardon 
 you with all my heart, for I knew that your malice to 
 me came not from your own heart, but from the enemy 
 of human kind ; for, seeing our former happiness, he 
 wished to sow dissension between us. But believe, 
 dear friend, that I, your little servant, have never 
 offended you ; I beg you not to think me ill disposed 
 toward you, and to entertain a better opinion of me." 
 
 After her complete recovery, they repaired together 
 to the court of their brother at Nantes, where they 
 made a mutual promise that whosoever should survive 
 the other would not marry again, but enter the seclu- 
 sion of monastic life; and the prince had a magnificent 
 chantry erected in Our Lady's church at Nantes, anc? 
 founded a mass in perpetuity. 
 
Frances d'Amboise. 245 
 
 From this time a complete change was perceptible in 
 the prince. His house resembled that of a religious 
 community, so great were the order and regularity which 
 existed in it. Every day they rose at four, entered 
 their oratory, and spent an hour in prayer ; they then 
 heard mass ; after which the prince transacted whatever 
 business he might have on hand, while the princess 
 continued at her prayers until the time for the high 
 mass at the cathedral, which she regularly attended. 
 
 She had a particular devotion to St, Ursula, and 
 every Wednesday she gave a dinner to eleven virgins 
 in her honor, and waited upon them herself, and after 
 the repast gave each a piece of money. 
 
 Her whole life was consecrated to works of piety and 
 charity. She sought out the poor and unfortunate in 
 the most obscure retreats ; and her beneficent hand dis- 
 tributed among them the means of rendering themselves 
 free from the misery which had overwhelmed them. 
 She was the mother of her people, the refuge of the 
 unfortunate, and the nurse of the sick. All venerated 
 her as an angel from heaven. She extended her charity 
 so far as to take into her palace a very aged paralytic 
 woman, whom she lodged in a room adjoining her own. 
 She not only visited her every day, but served her in 
 the most affectionate manner. 
 
 Her brother-in-law, Duke Francis, dying in 1450, the 
 Princess Frances assisted at all the offices celebrated for 
 
246 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 the repose of his soul, and took every possible means to 
 solace his widow, Isabella of Scotland. After a be- 
 coming interval, she proceeded with her husband to 
 Rennes, where they were crowned Duke and Duchess 
 of Brittany. Shortly afterward, the duchess took every 
 means in her power (in accordance with the dying wish 
 of her mother-in-law) to obtain the canonization of St. 
 Vincent Ferrier, which was pronounced by Pope Ca- 
 listus III. in the year 1455. She next sought and 
 obtained the remission of some very burdensome taxes 
 which oppressed the Bretons, by which means she en- 
 deared herself to the people. 
 
 The pious duchess had long desired to found a con- 
 vent, and, by permission of her husband, established 
 one for the Poor Clares in Nantes. About the same 
 time, the duke was seized with a dangerous illness. His 
 tender spouse watched at his bedside day and night. 
 The physicians were unable to decide the nature of his 
 malady. In this extremity, some persons ventured to 
 ascribe it to sorcery, and wished to send for a sorcerer 
 to cure him. On hearing this, the prince exclaimed, 
 ^' God forbid that I should love this life so much as to 
 wish to preserve it by such detestable means I I would 
 rather die by God's hands than seek to live by those of 
 the enemy of mankind. I give myself to God. May 
 His divine will be done in my regard. ^^ 
 
 From this moment he disposed himself for death. 
 
Frances d'Amboise. 247 
 
 Some of the nobles having expressed a fear lest the 
 duchess should marry again after his decease, the duke, 
 taking her by the hand, said, " She will not marry 
 again. I know her intention is to devote herself to a 
 religious life, after it shall please God to call me to 
 Himself/' Soon after this the duke expired; and it 
 is said that a luminous cross was seen in the heavens 
 over the castle at Nantes during the night preceding his 
 decease. 
 
 The duchess, after rendering the last tribute of re- 
 spect to the remains of her husband, entered her ora- 
 tory, and, on her knees, vowed herself to the Almighty. 
 The new duke, Arthur de Richemont, her uncle, of- 
 fended at her retirement, treated her with great harsh- 
 ness, and stripped her of the jewels and other property 
 she possessed. But the humble Frances submitted to 
 these injuries with perfect resignation; and when in a 
 short time the duke was seized with his last illness, she 
 revenged herself in the truly Christian manner, by at- 
 tending on him and soothing him on his passage into 
 eternity. 
 
 His successor restored every thing of which she had 
 been deprived ; but Frances had already applied to be 
 admitted into the convent of St. Clare. The state ot 
 her health prevented her from following the austerities 
 of this pious order. Her confessor advised her to enter 
 the Carmelite order at Liege ; but her relations strongly 
 
248 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 pposed her wishes on this subject, and tlie new duke 
 refused his consent^ though he finally consented. to her 
 entering a religious house, provided it were in Brittany. 
 She instantly repaired to Yannes, and commenced at 
 once the erection of a Carmelite convent there^ in 
 which, after many years of trials and difficulties, she 
 had the consolation of receiving nine Carmelite nuns 
 from the house at Li^ge. On becoming acquainted 
 with the princess, the superioress said to her com- 
 panions, '* What need was there to send for us */ For 
 we find here a perfect religious rather than a princess. 
 They told us we were to teach her the ways of spiritual 
 life and the practice of our order ; but she appears to 
 be already so well instructed as to be able to instruct 
 us.^' 
 
 Further difficulties prevented her entering as a re- 
 ligious for four years. At the expiration of this term, 
 she humbly supplicated the general of the Carmelites 
 to admit her into the order. She accordingly entered 
 the house she had founded on the Feast of the Annun- 
 ciation of the Blessed Virgin, 1467. A great number 
 of the Breton barons assisted at this august ceremony, 
 as well as a multitude of people. 
 
 The community received their foundress and bene- 
 factress with open arms, and wished at once to place 
 her first in rank after the superioress ; but the humble 
 FranCfes would not listen to such a proposal^ but took 
 
Frances d'Amboise. 249 
 
 the last place, as being the last to enter the order. She, 
 however, was obliged afterward, at the command of the 
 general of the order, to take the place assigned to her. 
 She begged, however, to be allowed to undertake the 
 most humiliating offices, and, among others, that of 
 attending the sick in the infirmary, saying ^' that she 
 knSw many of the secrets of medicine, and had, at one 
 time, wished to go to the Hotel-Dieu, at Paris, to serve 
 the patients there 3 but, as now it had pleased God to 
 admit her into this holy community, she hoped to be 
 allowed the honor of waiting on His chaste spouses in 
 their illness/^ 
 
 The superioress at first refused her request, but, at 
 her repeated instances, at length granted her permission 
 to assist in the infirmary. On the expiration of her 
 novitiate, she humbly prostrated herself at the feet of 
 the superioress and begged her pardon for all the faults 
 she had committed, and asked to be admitted among 
 the lay sisters. But this humble request was refused, 
 and she was at once made a choir sister. On the day 
 of her profession, when the habit was brought to her, 
 she cut off the corners of the veil, as '' unworthy, 
 having been married, to carry the same kind of veil as 
 the chaste spouses of Christ, and in order that she 
 might be known as the most unworthy of all.'' 
 
 The greatest joy was visible in her countenance on 
 the day of her profession, and she declared it to be the 
 
250 Queens and Princesses oe France. 
 
 happiest day of her life. She passed a great part or 
 the night in thanking God for His great mercy in 
 granting her the desire of her life. Although often 
 requested, the new religious would not accept the least 
 indulgence from observing the rule in its utmost strict- 
 ness, and at chapter would be the first to kneel at the 
 feet of the superioress and humbly confess all the 
 faults she had committed, asking her advice to aid her 
 in observing the rule with greater exactness. So quick 
 was her progress in spiritual life, and so esteemed was 
 she by the whole community, that they canonically and 
 unanimously elected her their abbess, in the year 1475, 
 which ofiice she could only be prevailed upon to accept 
 under the virtue of obedience. 
 
 Duke Francis II., desiring greatly to see the virtuous 
 Frances near him, and to establish a house of her order 
 at Nantes, wrote to the Pope to obtain the translation 
 of a Carmelite house to the monastery of our Lady of 
 Scoets in Nantes. He also prayed his Holiness to com- 
 mand the Abbess Frances to come with some of her 
 sisters and take up her abode in this abbey. The Pope 
 granted his request, and sent the necessary bulls for 
 the transfer; and on Christmas-eve, 1477, Frances, ac- 
 companied by nine sisters, proceeded to Nantes, where 
 they were met by the duke and installed in their new 
 house. 
 
 In her position near the court, the humble Frances 
 
Frances d'Amboise. 251 
 
 endeavorecl to practise humility and mortification in a 
 still higher degree. She was indefatigable in the duties 
 her position demanded of her, and she always concluded 
 her exhortations to the sisters by these beautiful 
 words : — '^ Try that in all things God may be better 
 loved/^ 
 
 Entirely devoted to a penitential life, she allowed no 
 worldly thoughts to disturb the tranquillity of her soli- 
 tude. Notwithstanding her high charge, she constantly 
 attended the infirmary. A contagious disease having 
 broken out in Nantes, a sister was attacked with it : 
 the good abbess was the first to attend to her, and she 
 died in her arms in a few days. She herself had, in 
 this heroic act of charity, inhaled the epidemic ; and 
 though scarce able to stand, she went through all the 
 usual ofiices the next day, (being Sunday.) At even- 
 tide, however, she was forced to retire to the infirmary, 
 which she never again quitted. The disease had gained 
 so great a hold of her that she daily grew worse, and, 
 having summoned all the sisters around her, she (having 
 first asked pardon for her faults and omissions, toward 
 them) thus addressed them : — '^ My dear sisters, I pray 
 you above all things, do every thing in order that God 
 may be better loved: be humble, kind, mild, charitable, 
 chaste, and obedient; love one another; cherish peace, 
 concord, and union; be loyal to God; firm, constant, 
 and persevering in obedience to your profession. J 
 
252 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 know wellj my dear daughters^ that God breaks some- 
 times all your dearest ties on earth; but it must be so, 
 in order that you may place all your confidence in Him, 
 and be ever conformable to His adorable will, and do 
 every thing in order that God may be better loved. 
 Adieu, my daughters; I go to learn now what it really 
 is to lov'e God : they are sadly deceived who wish to 
 live long in this worid. As tor me, I place myself en- 
 tirely in my Redeemer's blessed hands, and hope in His 
 infinite mercy and goodness. Into His hands I com- 
 mend my spirit.^^ 
 
 When desired by ber director to bless her sisterhood, 
 (which her humility had not allowed her previously to 
 do,) she said, " I know not whether it be right for a 
 woman to give the blessing;'*' but being reassured, she 
 blessed them. 
 
 Having finivshed her worldly business, she gave her- 
 self up entirely to spiritual exercises, received the last 
 sacraments with the greatest devotion, and recited with 
 equal piety (it being Friday) the Stahat Hater, She 
 then desired the passion of our Lord to be read to her; 
 and when she heard the words, " Into thy hands I com- 
 mend my soul," she cast her eyes over those who knelt 
 round her bed, and said, ^^ If you wdsh me to acknow- 
 ledge yoti as my daughters, be good and prudent, firm 
 and constant in your vocation. I beg of you to act 
 always so that God may be the better loved.'' 
 
FrAxNces d'Amboise. 253 
 
 She then ceased speaking; but it was remarked that, 
 while they were reciting the prayers for the dying, she 
 gave certain signs which proved that the soui still re- 
 mained in the body. At the hour of nine her speech 
 returned, and she was heard to say, while joining her 
 hands, *^ Welcome, my dear good ladies/^ When 
 asked the meaning of these words she replied, ^^They 
 are my good ladies, whom I have alwa^^s honored and 
 reverenced; oh, how long I have- desired to dwell with 
 them ! I pray you make room to receive them/' Soon 
 after, she breathed her last, on Friday, the 4th of No- 
 vember, 1485, in the fifty-eighth year of her age, and 
 eighteenth of her religious profession. After a contest 
 with the canons of the cathedral, who claimed her 
 Dody tv> inter beside her husband, the religious retained 
 possession of it; and, by her special desire, it was 
 placed in a vault at the entrance of the choir, so that 
 every sister on entering should tread over her; thus 
 wishing to preserve, even after death, the wonderful 
 humility which had so distinguished her during life. 
 
254 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 cPlafjdalm of ^nm 
 
 ^t 
 
 A.D. 1510—1586. 
 
 AGDALEN OF SAVOY was related 
 to the royal family of France, by her 
 father, Rene of Savoy, Count of Yillars, 
 and Governor of Provence. Brought 
 up in that country by her mother, the 
 Countess of Tende, she had received a 
 Christian and serious education, which 
 contrasted greatly with the worldly and 
 frivolous life of the court of Francis I., at which she 
 was early presented. Scarcely had she made her ap- 
 pearance there, when the king, desirous of showing a 
 mark of his royal favor to the Marshal de Montmorency, 
 obtained the hand of Magdalen for him. 
 
 Her marriage took place in the royal chapel of Sfc. 
 Germain, and was attended by a vast concourse of 
 courtiers. But amidst all the regal splendor of the 
 fete, the young bride shone forth in all the charming 
 and pure type of a Christian virgin. Innocence, 
 
Magdalen of Savoy. 255 
 
 modesty, and candor were imprinted on her coun* 
 tenance. 
 
 The simplicity of lier piety and the grace of her 
 manners disarmed envy, and caused her, for having 
 found favor in the royal sight, to be pardoned. The 
 attentions, however, which she received were such as 
 to have an ill effect on a young heart less well trained 
 in virtue. Besides the marriage- feasts, the king had 
 bestowed upon the young couple the estate of La Fere, 
 in Tardenois, and a present of fifty thousand crowns. 
 He also insisted that the bride should have an establish- 
 ment suited to the name and favor which her husband 
 enjoyed at the court. 
 
 Young and inexperienced, and suddenly set at perfect 
 liberty in the midst of the seductions of a court, she 
 was greatly exposed to all the dangers of pride and 
 vanity. But she triumphed over the temptations by 
 which she was assailed, owing to the deep root which 
 the religious education she had received had taken in 
 her heart. ' * 
 
 The marshal, proud of his young wife, loved to see 
 her shine at court. Submissive to his wishes, however 
 contrary to her own tastes, Magdalen appeared at the 
 court fetes in all the splendor becoming her rank. But 
 in the absence of her husband, whose duties often re- 
 quired his presence in the field, she lived in the retire- 
 ment of her chateau in a manner more congenial to her 
 
256 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 tastes. "There/' says an old chronicler, "she devoted 
 herself to domestic cares, and acquired, at the head of 
 her servants, farmers, and vassals, as much renown as 
 her husband at the head of his armies. '^ True great 
 ness consists particularly in the perfect fulfilment of the 
 duties of one's state of life : therefore this comparison is 
 not so exaggerated as may at first sight appear. If 
 man's destiny leads him to serve his king and country, 
 woman's is in the midst of her household, in the de- 
 voted and enlightened care of those who live dependent 
 on her. On this score, Magdalen of Savoy presents a 
 noble example. " For/' continues the same author, 
 " if an ambitious mind is capable of great actions, to 
 hav^e the virtues of the Duchess of Montmorency, one 
 should be above ambition, which is the height of all 
 greatness." 
 
 But heavy and sore trials came to disturb her do- 
 mestic happiness. The marshal underwent imprison- 
 ment, exile, disgrace, and drank to the dregs the bitter 
 cup of a king's displeasure. A faithful and devoted 
 wife, his duchess shared the misfortunes of him whom 
 bhe had vowed to love, honor, and obey. She followed 
 the fallen minister to Chantilly, and contributed much 
 to alleviate his sufferings, in initiating him to the 
 charms of benevolence and the happiness of doing 
 good to others. Recalled to power, the duke opposed 
 the Calvinistic rebels on the plain of St. Denis^ where 
 
Magdalen of Savoy. 257 
 
 he received his death-blow; and, while the duchess 
 was still in her oratory praying the God of battles to 
 give success to her husband's arms, his wounded body 
 was borne into the Hotel de Montmorency by blood and 
 dust-stained soldiers. This sad and mournful procession 
 contrasted strangely with the joyous shouts of the con- 
 quering army entering Paris. Passed as she had with 
 resignation through seven years of exile, this blow 
 completely prostrated the duchess. Her grief and 
 lamentations were heart-rending when the marshal ex- 
 pired the next day. 
 
 Magdalen, following the apostolic injunctions, de- 
 voted her widowhood to acts of piety, devotion, and 
 charity, in which she spent three years in uninterrupted 
 solitude. At the end of this term, she was recalled 
 to court to fill the envied post of lady-in-waiting to 
 the queen, Elizabeth of Austria. Here another deep 
 grief entered her soul. .Despite their holy training, 
 she had the misfortune to see her sons embrace the 
 cause of Chatillon, the head of the Calvinist party. 
 Her eldest son only escaped the terrible massacre of 
 St, Bartholomew — that impious fruit of the ambition 
 of a wicked queen — by being concealed by his mv^ther 
 in her chateau of Chantilly. The younger sons owed 
 their preservation, it is said, to the fear of the venge- 
 ance which the eldest would take on their assas- 
 
 Bination. 
 R 
 
258 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 By her prayers and entreaties, this pious mother 
 effected a reconciliation between her children and the 
 Duke of Guise. She recalled her erring sons to a sense 
 of the duty they owed to their country and their name, 
 and rekindled in their hearts that respect and love of 
 religion which they had but temporarily lost. But, 
 becoming partisans of the Duke of Alen9on, the king's 
 brother, the two eldest, Francis of Montmorency and 
 the Marshal Corre, were confined in the Bastille, while 
 Magdalen was fortunate enough to warn the youngest 
 in time to facilitate his flight. All these sore trials 
 told upon the health of the duchess. Of five sons, she 
 saw four of them expire, while the fifth alone survived 
 to bear his great name to posterity. Four of her 
 daughters married men of the first rank in France, and 
 three embraced a religious life. The loss of her sons 
 was deeply deplored by her; still she submitted to 
 Divine providence, saying, " The Lord gave, and the 
 Lord has taken away: blessed be His holy name and 
 will.'' But she did not long survive them, breathing 
 her last in peace and resignation soon after the death 
 of her fourth son. 
 
Mary Felicia des Ursins 
 
 259 
 
 s 
 
 DUCHESS OF MONTMORENCY. 
 A.D, 1600—1666. 
 
 NOTHER lady of the noble house of 
 Montmorency claims our attention, — 
 Mary Felicia, descended by her mother 
 from those Medici whose name filled 
 earth with its glory, niece of the great 
 Pope Sixtus Y. By her father, the 
 Duke of Bracciano, she was allied to a 
 family so celebrated in the annals of 
 Italy as to claim alliance with royal families. 
 
 Graceful, witty, and amiable, she became, at an early 
 age, the delight of her father, when the Glrand Duchess 
 of Tuscany begged to be allowed to have the care of 
 her education. Although a cruel trial to be separated 
 from his little darling, the Duke of Bracciano consented 
 to the request, as tending to the advantage of his 
 daughter. 
 
 Mary gave her governesses early signs of that re- 
 
260 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 markable piety wliicli distinguished her in after -life, 
 and which seemed to give proofs of her vocation to a 
 rehgious life. But this idea was abandoned when 
 Mary of Medici, who was her godmother, and had 
 always taken a great interest in her, sent for her to 
 come to the court of France, to form an alliance worthy 
 of her name, in the person of the Duke of Mont- 
 morency. 
 
 Mary shed many tears in quitting the dear abode of 
 her youth, and the beautiful city of Florence, which 
 she loved with all the ardor of a true Italian, and sepa- 
 rating from her father, whose paternal tenderness had 
 always remained the same. Her espousal took place 
 before she left Florence, and the hopes of a young and 
 happy girl of fifteen soon took the ascendency over her 
 sorrows at quitting the home of her youth. 
 
 On her arrival in France, she was received with the 
 warmest affection by her royal godmother, and soon 
 gained the admiration and esteem of the courtiers. 
 Mary Felicia had also to be thankful to Providence for 
 the husband provided for her ; for he united the good 
 qualities both of mind and heart. 
 
 The marriage took place at the Louvre, with the 
 greatest magnificence. The Duke of Montmorency 
 was delighted at the choice of his sovereign, finding in 
 his bride all the charms of person and qualities of mind 
 which tend to make a happy union. He found in her 
 
Mary Felicia des Ursins. 261 
 
 also a tender and devoted wife, and slie showed a 
 character of wisdom far beyond her years. 
 
 Reared in courts, and in the lap of riches and abun- 
 dance, Madame de Montmorency knew nothing of the 
 suffering and misery of the world : she had never seen 
 the tears of bitterness flow, nor heard the wail of mis- 
 fortune. But an occasion soon happened of teaching 
 her some of these lessons of life. 
 
 The court went to Bordeaux on the occasion of the 
 marriage of the young king and the Infanta of Spain, 
 and of course the duchess accompanied it. The ruin 
 and devastation caused by civil war which met her sight 
 at each step taught her what misery the caprice of the 
 great and their wicked ambition can inflict on the 
 people. Her tender heart was moved. She wished to 
 see nearer, and examine the state of the unhappy vic- 
 tims of the war. She entered their dilapidated cabins, 
 and the sights she there witnessed changed the young 
 bride into a different woman. Charity took possession 
 of her soul, and made its conquest entire. The distri- 
 bution of abundant alms, the tender care with which 
 she bestowed them, the moving words of comfort which 
 she spoke, so detained her on her way, that she never 
 reached the resting-places of the court till some time 
 after the queen had arrived. She traversed France 
 like the comforting angel, leJivbi"' everywhere ih.e per- 
 
262 Queens and Princesses or France. 
 
 fime of her virtues, and carrying on with her the 
 blessings of the poor and the afflicted. 
 
 While thus engaged in soothing the troubles of 
 others, Madame de Montmorency was struck herself by 
 affliction, in the deaths of her brother and her father, 
 the Duke de Bracciano. The deep grief she felt at the 
 loss of these beloved objects had the effect of re- 
 doubling her zeal and charity toward those around her 
 who stood in need of consolation. 
 
 On her return to Paris she was joined by the duke. 
 His absence being always a source of uneasiness to her, 
 she begged of him to allow her to accompany him to 
 the seat of his government in Languedoc. The duke at 
 first resisted her requests ; but, after many repeated in- 
 stances, and after showing him how false and dangerous 
 was the position of a young wife away from her husband, 
 he yielded to her entreaties. 
 
 Young, handsome, amiable, and generous, Henry of 
 Montmorency bore a noble name with dignity and 
 honor. His provincial establishment was kept up on a 
 scale of the utmost splendor and magnificence. The 
 people of the south, ardent in their affections, enter- 
 tained the greatest love for their governor. Madame 
 de Montmorency, though regarding with joy these 
 manifestations of the popular favor, felt the grief of a 
 true Christian woman at the extravagant magnificence 
 
Mary Felicia des Ursins. 268 
 
 of her husband^s court, and endeavored to bring about 
 a change in a quiet and unostentatious manner. 
 
 She began by establishing the greatest order and 
 regularity in her household. Though she treated all 
 with extreme sweetness and amiability, she was severe 
 in exacting the most perfect discharge of all duties. 
 This pleasing severity, so to say, is the key to the true 
 happiness of families and domestic economy. Kind- 
 ness is not weakness, and sad is the position of the 
 woman who confounds them, and cannot understand 
 that indulgence and mildness are only profitable quali- 
 ties when combined with firmness and decision. 
 
 Beloved and venerated by all the people of this im- 
 mense province, she was yet more esteemed in the 
 abode of poverty and misery. All who suffered found 
 true comfort and consolation in her; but, wise and pru- 
 dent even in the discharge of her charities, she took 
 the greatest care to prevent those she relieved degene- 
 rating into idleness. It is said that on one occasion 
 she carried this precaution so far as to refuse alms to 
 some men apparently in robust health, who implored 
 her charity. She even reproached them for their not 
 laboring to gain their livelihood. The duke, who was 
 present, said to her that she should not look so much at 
 the appearance of those who asked her charity, but the 
 riame of Him through whom they invoked it. The 
 
264 Queens and Princesses or France. 
 
 duchess was nmcli struck at this reproach, and was in 
 future less severe in the distribution of her alms. 
 
 It was not, however, the poor alone whom she bene- 
 fited. Were any in trouble through any cause what- 
 ever, through the injustice of others, the hatred of 
 enemies, the tediousness of the law, — all owed their 
 delivery to, and blessed the name of, the Duchess of 
 Montmorency. 
 
 Surrounded by all the joys and delights which her 
 position and her charity gained for her, one thing alone 
 seemed to be wanting to' fill her wife's heart. It had 
 not pleased Providence to bestow any children on 
 her; and, deeply as she felt this deprivation, still, ever 
 submissive to the Divine will, she afterward learned to 
 be grateful for what she at one time deemed a mis- 
 fortune. 
 
 The Duke of Montmorency had served his king with 
 glory at Montauban, Montpellier, and La Eochelle, and 
 had well earned his marshal's baton; yet, with un- 
 accountable weakness, he allowed himself to be per- 
 suaded to join in the rebellion of the king's brother. 
 Having used all her entreaties, and practised every art 
 she could conceive to bring him to a sense of his duty 
 in vain, Madame de Montmorency retreated to her ora- 
 tory, where day and night she besieged Heaven with 
 the cry of ^' Save him, Lord ! save him, O Lord !" 
 
 Despite prodigies of valor which^ in a better cause, 
 
Mary Felicia bes Ursins. 265 
 
 Would have further ennobled a noble name, the duke 
 was taken prisoner. This fatal news plunged the duchess 
 into deep grief; for she knew the inflexible severity of 
 Cardinal Richelieu. The first act was to endeavor to 
 secure the king's mercy; and she sent her most sub- 
 missive duty, awaiting his orders. They were, to retire 
 to her estate of La Grange, near Pezenas. Here she 
 redoubled her religious exercises to obtain the pardon 
 of her husband ; but, although the highest and mightiest 
 in the kingdom bent the knee before Louis XIII. to 
 ask for pardon for the great Montmorency, it was de- 
 nied. Richelieu was determined to put a stop to all 
 resistance by the sacrifice of one ; and that one was to 
 be the Duke-Marshal of France. AVhen the sentence 
 of his doom was brought to him, '^ he showed neithei 
 anger or impatience, but, sending for a confessor, he 
 resigned himself to death, pardoned his enemies, and 
 employed his last moments in religious exercises and 
 acts of piety. ^^ 
 
 On the 29th of October, 1632, a scaffold, covered 
 with black cloth, was raised in the old and noble capital 
 of Languedoc. A silent and moody populace crowded 
 the streets, especially around the prison. Those who 
 spoke repeated the praises of the duke, and of his 
 noble and charitable wife, and complained that for one 
 act of treason a whole life of devotedness to the king 
 was to be overlooked. But the signal was given, the 
 
266 Queens and Princesses op France. 
 
 mournful procession approached, tlie axe fell, and the 
 last of the Montmorencys ceased to live. 
 
 While the duchess was prostrated under the effects 
 of this cruel bereavement, an order came from the king 
 for her to retire to one of the three towns named in 
 the royal mandate,—- La Fere, Montargis, or Moulins. 
 Yainly did her faithful friends and attendants seek to 
 delay the execution of this warrant. Yainly did they 
 represent the fatal effects of the duchess's travelling in 
 her present state of health. The bearer of the evil 
 tidings doubtless exceeded his instructions by insisting 
 on the duchess immediately quitting her retirement. 
 Madame de Montmorency, ever mistress of herself in 
 the most trying circumstances, obeyed without a mur- 
 mur, and exacted the promptest submission in her 
 servants. 
 
 What a contrast did this journey, undertaken amidst 
 tears, affliction, and sufferings, present to that in which 
 she followed in the queen's train amidst the acclama- 
 tions of a people eager to see, welcome, and bless her ! 
 Powerful and the object of the deepest veneration then, 
 now a poor prisoner at the mercy of a harsh and brutal 
 sentinel, she doubted almost whether a scaffold were not 
 being prepared for her also. But death had no terrors 
 for one who expected to meet in bliss the beloved one 
 from whom the violence of men had separated her. 
 
 Madame de Montmorency chose the town of Moulins 
 
Mary f'ELiciA des Ursins. 267 
 
 for the place of her habitation^ as being the one far- 
 thest from the court. She had to pass through Lyons, 
 where Madame Jane Frances de Chantal happened to 
 be staying ; and she desired earnestly to have an inter 
 view with the pious foundress of the Order of the Visit- 
 ation. But this favor was refused her. 
 
 The illustrious widow reached Moulins on the 18th 
 of November. The castle of the town was fixed upon 
 as her residence. ^^ It was an ancient edifice^ nearly 
 falling in ruins. She was placed in its most gloomy 
 apartment, furnished in the most wretched manner. 
 The doors were bolted, the windows barred, as if they 
 feared the evasion of this poor, weak, ailing woman. 
 The jailer never lost sight of her a moment, but spied 
 all her actions and listened to all the conversation she 
 held with the fevf persons who were allowed to visit 
 her, and in all things submitting her to the greatest in- 
 dignities.'^ The duchess submitted to this treatment 
 with the utmost patience : ever calm and resigned, she 
 waited till the authorities should be undeceived in her 
 regard. At length, some further relaxations were al- 
 lowed her, such as to write to her friends and receive 
 their answers, and to go out into the town^ — but even 
 then not without the forced attendance of a mercenary. 
 But she regretted not her lost liberty. Detached from 
 all worldly pursuits, she devoted her days to the ser- 
 vice of her God and the memory of him whom she had 
 
268 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 so cruelly lost. She heard mass daily in the castle 
 chapel, and then spent the greater part of the day in 
 religious exercises and in works of piety. Of the sum 
 allowed her out of the revenues of her estates, she 
 gave nearly all to the hospitals, prisons, and other cha- 
 rities of the town, besides supporting a number of in- 
 digent families. Her health beginning visibly to decline, 
 she was recommended by her physician to take the 
 waters at Bourbon, which she did; without, however, 
 deriving any great advantage from them. In obedience 
 to the prescription of her medical attendant, she re- 
 peated the trial of them the next year with better 
 effect. 
 
 In the mean time, her friends at Florence took every 
 possible step to obtain the restitution of her rights, and 
 for this purpose despatched the Rev. Father des Ursins, 
 of the order of Carmelites, to France, to make a formal 
 request for her entire restoration to liberty. God blessed 
 the efforts of the good monk, when his family wrote to 
 impose on him the task of bringing back the duchess 
 to her native country. Such, however, did not appear 
 to her to be the will of God : a mysterious attraction 
 seemed to attach her to Moulins ; and she thought that 
 God called her to embrace a religious life. Her brother 
 did not oppose her wishes, and left her to execute 
 them, with the highest admiration of her virtues and 
 many good qualities. 
 
Mary Felicia des Ursins. 269 
 
 The illustrious widow left the castle of Moulins^ and 
 went to inhabit a house adjoining a convent of the 
 Visitation. While here^ Anne of Austria sent one of 
 her attendants to visit her and beg her prayers. Hence- 
 forwardj although living in the world^ all her life was 
 devoted to the fervent practice of the duties of a re- 
 ligious state. A communication was made between her 
 room and the convent^ where she spent a great part of 
 her time. We will not here enumerate all the virtues 
 which were displayed by this noble soul ; but there was 
 one which particularly shone forth in all her conduct, 
 and that was a sublime spirit of resignation to the will 
 of God, and the greatest meekness and charity toward 
 those who had been the cause of her misfortunes. 
 
 One day, being informed that one of her husband's 
 enemies was on the point of death, the duchess threw 
 herself on her knees before the crucifix and prayed 
 earnestly for his soul, and caused masses to be said for 
 him. Another happening to fall ill at Moulins, she 
 went herself to visit and nurse him, displaying by such 
 an act the most difficult and heroic virtue of renderins^ 
 good for evil. Louis XIII. and Cardinal Richelieu, 
 passing through Moulins, sent to pay their respects to 
 the noble widow of Montmorency, who, repressing her 
 emotion, replied with becoming dignity, yet with all 
 mildness and charity; and, on learning the minister's 
 death^ she let not a word escape her that could show 
 
270 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 the least sign of satisfaction at the departure of her 
 husband's bitterest foe. 
 
 Madame de Chantal, stopping at Moulins on her 
 way to Paris, paid a visit to the duchess. The two 
 noble women, so well able to appreciate and understand 
 one another, found in this meeting great cause of mutual 
 joy and satisfaction, and, at her departure^ the pioua 
 foundress of the Visitation desired her daughters to 
 pay great attention to the pious and enlightened advice 
 of the Duchess of Montmorency. 
 
 The various obstacles to the fulfilment of her most 
 ardent desires being at length overcome, she sold all her 
 property, and entered the convent of the Visitation, 
 amidst the sobs and lamentations of her attendants and 
 servants, to whom she behaved most nobly, giving up 
 to them her house and wherewith to live on for the rest 
 of their lives. Madame de Chantal insisted on her 
 restoring to her family the rich dowry she received from 
 it, and not to render the community she entered too 
 rich. The duchess willingly obeyed these injunctions 
 of the holy foundress; but a third cost her a great 
 sacrifice : it was to delay her profession until all her 
 worldly affairs were settled. A short time after, she 
 Lad to suffer another shock, in the death of the holy 
 De Chantal, who expired at her side. She sent her 
 body to Annecy, but kept her heart at Moulins. Shortly 
 after her profession she was named superioress, and by 
 
Mary Felicia des Ursins. 271 
 
 her wise and prudent admin-istration maintained and 
 increased tlie spirit and rules of the order. She was 
 here visited by the pious Duchess de Nemours and the 
 famous Duchess de Longueville, and afterward received 
 into the order the Ladies Desportes, de Yentadour^ and 
 de Yalois. Later^ M. Olier, the holy friend and worthy 
 emulator of the virtues of St. Yincent de Paul, came to 
 pass some days in edifying conversation with her. 
 Christina of Sweden also visited her, in order to hear 
 from her own lips the recital of her trials and her 
 adversity. The unfortunate Queen of England (widow 
 of Charles I.) and her daughter Henrietta also came to 
 receive consolation from the lips of the pious superioress 
 of the Yisitation of Moulins. She also received Louis 
 XIY., who, excusing himself for introducing his court- 
 iers into the convent, said, ^' I am persuaded that it will 
 do us all good to have entered this pious retreat.^^ The 
 king, Anne of Austria, Mademoiselle de Montpensier, 
 and the king's brother, could scarce find words to ex- 
 press their delight and admiration at this visit. 
 
 Though she had given herself up to God, Madame de 
 Montmorency did not entirely neglect the holy affections 
 of the past. A tender and attached wife, even after the 
 death of him she had loved, she neglected no opportu- 
 nity of showing honor and respect to his memory. She 
 obtained permission of the queen to publish an account 
 of the duke's life, written by Simon Ducrot, one of his 
 
272 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 most devoted officers. She next caused his body to be 
 translated to IMoulins, and erected a magnificent tomb 
 in his honor, which still continues to be the admiration 
 of every visitor to Moulins, and which is '' a monument 
 at once to the great qualities and the misfortunes of the 
 Duke of Montmorency, and to the tender piety and 
 the chaste life and devotedness of his noble and tender 
 wife.'' 
 
 Madame de Montmorency died on the 5th of June, 
 1666, in the sixty-sixth year of her age and tenth of 
 her religious profession. Her death caused a general 
 mourning at Moulins, and her name remains there sur- 
 rounded by an aureola of virtue which time, far from 
 diminishing, has greatly enhanced. 
 
The Princess de Conti. 
 
 ^73 
 
 Sfi^ §m(m &^ djjowtl 
 
 A.D. 1626—1672. 
 
 NNE MARY MARTINOZZl, daugh- 
 ter of a Eoinan nobleman, was, by ber 
 motber, niece of Cardinal Mazarin, 
 wbo married her in 1644 to Armand 
 de Bourbon, Prince de Conti. The 
 marriage took place in tbe cbapel of 
 tbe Louvre, with a solemnity worthy 
 of the power of the minister, and the 
 high rank of the young couple. 
 
 Armand de Bourbon was at first destined for the 
 priesthood, and had nearly completed his studies with 
 the Jesuits, and was preparing to take orders, when he 
 suddenly changed his inclinations, and, entering the 
 world, plunged into its vices to such a degree as to make 
 one think that he had forgotten all the duties of a 
 Christian life. 
 
 His marriage caused no change in his course of life ; 
 
274 Queens AND Princesses o^ France. 
 
 and the princess, influenced by his pernicious example, 
 devoted herself entirely to the world and its vanities. 
 
 The good impressions made by his education would, 
 however, frequently arise in his mind in the midst of 
 his pleasures, and make him pause in his career of vice. 
 Then he would aspire to a better mode of life, and de- 
 plore the wickedness and vanity of his pursuits. 
 
 Being appointed by the king in 1665 to the presi- 
 dency of Languedoc, he heard the Bishop of Aleth, 
 Nicolas Pavilion, who had a great reputation for zeal 
 and austerity of life. This prelate's eloquence made 
 a deep impression on his soul, already satiated with the 
 deceptive pleasures of the world, and moved him to re- 
 morse. The prince humbled himself before the pious 
 bishop, opened his heart to him, and solicited his advice, 
 and resolved to follow it to the letter. 
 
 His conversion began to show itself by the order and 
 economy which he introduced into his household, and 
 by the large and abundant alms he bestowed upon the 
 poor, and restoring the proceeds of benefices he had 
 been squandering for years in vice. To enable him to 
 do this required a great retrenchment in personal ex- 
 penditure and style of living. The princess accordingly 
 complained at it, declaring she had no intention of 
 leading the life of a Carmelite in the world in which it 
 was her duty to maintain her rank and her name. 
 
 Armand de Conti allowed his wife to follow her in- 
 
The Princess de Conti. 275 
 
 clinations, well knowing that sacrifices to please the 
 Almighty must be voluntary. Hitherto he had been 
 wanting in that affection for his wife that was due to 
 her: he now resolved to atone for it by the greatest 
 attention and deference, for he loved her dearly, 
 and wished to obtain for her the grace he was now 
 enjoying. 
 
 These marks of affection, to which she was little 
 accustomed, touched the princess's heart, and proved to 
 her that piety alone is the real guarantee of domestic 
 happiness, and she gradually began to feel herself 
 drawn toward the leading of a better life. 
 
 After a violent conflict with herself, the Princess de 
 Conti triumphed over the world and her own passions. 
 Her husband's example, prayers, and tenderness had 
 conquered her. " Come,'' said she to him, surprising 
 him early one morning in his oratory, ^^ come to our 
 good bishop : I will also ask his counsel, and commence, 
 under his wise direction, to walk in that way in which 
 women should ever lead, whereas you have so advanced 
 as to leave me far behind.'' 
 
 Although delighted at this change in his wife's dis- 
 position, the prince thought it prudent to observe that 
 she would have a severe director in the bishop, and that 
 by placing herself under his direction she would have 
 to renounce all worldly amusements, and to enter the 
 thorny path of self-denial and mortification. But 
 
276 Queens and Princesses of France. 
 
 Heaven had so completely moved the princesses heart, 
 thatj so far from deterring her from following her de- 
 termination, he rather confirmed her in it. 
 
 Living retired in their country-seat of La Grange, 
 as much as the duties of his presidency allowed, the 
 Prince and Princess de Conti sought to rival one anotlier 
 in their practice of piety and charity to the poor. 
 
 The immense wealth left to them by Cardinal Mazarin 
 troubled their consciences, having some scruples about 
 its origin : they therefore determined to employ the 
 whole of it in founding religious establishments. There 
 was not a town, and scarcely a village, in Languedoc 
 which did not derive some benefit from this proceeding. 
 Everywhere their liberality was exercised, and every- 
 where their names held in -veneration The people 
 called them ^^ their holy protectors,'^ and would not 
 speak of them under any other name. 
 
 The princess, anxious to emalate the example of the 
 pious ladies of Paris, founded, in her husband's presi- 
 dency, hospitals, schools, and houses of refuge for fallen 
 and repentant women. She visited the poor herself, 
 and received them, at all times, in her own house. To 
 these numerous works of mercy she added the most 
 minute superintendence of her domestic afiairs and the 
 education of her children, and still found time to keen 
 up a correspondence with the most distinguished ladier 
 of her time for piety and benevolence. 
 
The Princess de Conti. 277 
 
 During a time of famine, Mademoiselle de Lamoignon, 
 having entirely exhausted her own resources, and sold 
 her wardrobe and jewels, bethought herself of the piety 
 and generosity of the Princess de Conti, and wrote to 
 beg of her for her starving clients. The prince and 
 princess bad^ at the moment, no money at their dis- 
 posal. The princess, however, bad a very magnificent 
 diamond necklace and ear-rings, which she sent to 
 Mademoiselle Lamoignon, entreating her secrecy. This 
 lady took them to the king, wbo purchased them for 
 150,000 crowns, (about £50,000,) and respected the 
 secret of these two noble women. 
 
 On another occasion, this pious princess showed her 
 generosity. It was at the time when one of St. Vincent 
 de Paul's most noble ideas of a general hospital was in 
 course of formation • money was wanted to carry it out. 
 The princess, hearing of this, went to the prince, and 
 they examined together the state of their finances. 
 Their numerous charities had quite impoverished them. 
 Must they, therefore, renounce aiding so very admirable 
 a project? The princess would not hear of it, but 
 made a search to find something^ of sufficient value to 
 send. But nothing remained : she therefore collected 
 together a number of articles of less value, which would 
 be considered almost indispensable to a lady of her con- 
 dition, and sold them. The produce, a hundred thou- 
 Band francs, was sent to Paris, where the alms was not 
 
278 Queens and Trincesses of France. 
 
 sufficiently appreciated, because no one knew tlie way 
 in which it had been raised. 
 
 The practice of good works and the leading of a good 
 life in the world were soon deemed unsatisfactory by 
 this zealous couple. They longed to follow the evan- 
 gelical counsels more perfectly, and retire to the seclu- 
 sion of the cloister. The bishop, to whom they con- 
 fided their desires, did not approve of this course. He 
 represented to them the great amount of good which, 
 by their position, their wealth, and their good example, 
 they could do in the world, and the necessity of proving 
 to others that one could lead a most perfect Christian 
 life in the midst of the snares and temptations of the 
 highest stations. The princess seemed satisfied with 
 this, but not so the prince. He again laid before the 
 bishop, with great earnestness, the ardent and mutual 
 desire of himself and his wife to devote themselves 
 entirely to the service of God, and concluded by asking 
 the holy prelate " if a man's salvation was not of the 
 greatest importance.*' *^ Decidedly," answered the 
 bishop, ^^ but it is not for him to choose the way or 
 means of his salvation. God alone has the right to 
 dispose of him in such a way as He may judge most 
 Balutary for himself and his neighbors. Should you 
 leave the world, how many poor people who are now 
 relieved by your charity would remain in the depths of 
 misery ! How many good works for the solace of suf- 
 
The Princess de Conti. 279 
 
 fering humanity would be left undone ! How many 
 sinners you have reclaimed would continue to live in 
 sin, and die in impenitence ! You cannot, you must 
 not, reject the work God has confided to you, and which 
 He has so evidently blessed and will reward most 
 abundantly/' 
 
 The prince, having made a vow of obedience to the 
 bishop, was forced to yield to his advice ; but, in order 
 to follow the desire of his heart as near as he was able 
 and allowed, he shut himself up in his house and only 
 left it on the most urgent business of his presidency. 
 
 This existence naturally brought on a series of bodily 
 infirmities, which sorely tried him ; but he bore them 
 with the greatest patience and resignation. The prin- 
 cess was his most assiduous attendant, but all her soli- 
 citude was in vain : the prince sank under his maladies 
 on the 21st of February, 1666, at the early age of 
 thirty -seven. 
 
 The princess received his last breath, promising to 
 supply his place to the poor, and to continue the same 
 kind of life they had led together ; which she faithfully 
 performed for the space of six years. On the 4th of 
 February, 1672, she obtained the happiness of joining 
 a beloved husband, and sharing in the reward of a life 
 of virtue, in which he had been her guide and ex- 
 ample. 
 
 the end.