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 NEW YORK: 
 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO. 
 PUBLISHERS. 
 
QUEEN VICTORIA. 
 
THE 
 
 GIRLS' BOOK OF FAMOUS QUEENS 
 
 BY 
 
 LYDIA HOYT FARMER 
 
 1 1 
 
 AUTHOR OF " THE BOYS' BOOK OF FAMOUS RULERS," " A SHORT 
 HISTORY OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION," " THE LIFE 
 OF LA FAYETTE " 
 
 ELEVENTH THOUSAND 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO. 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
JDI07 
 .3 
 
 Copyright, 
 
 BY THOMAS Y. CKOWBLL & Co 
 1887. 
 
 GIFT Of 
 
 TYPOGRAPHY BY J. S. GUSHING & Co. 
 
 PRESSWORK BY BERWICK & SMITH, BOSTON. 
 
DEDICATED 
 
 TO 
 MY DAUGHTER. 
 
 M 7490 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 rthe annals of history, women have played an im- 
 portant part ; and among the famous sovereigns of 
 the world, queens, as well as kings, have made their names 
 illustrious by heroic deeds and great enterprises. 
 
 The names which we have chosen for this book do not 
 include all the renowned female sovereigns ; but their 
 lives present some of the most important epochs in the 
 world's history. 
 
 I am indebted to the assistance of my son, in the 
 sketches of Queen Marie Antoinette and the Empress 
 Eugenie. 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAG* 
 
 SEMIRAMIS, QUEEN OF ASSYRIA 1 
 
 DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE 10 
 
 CLEOPATRA, QUEEN OF EGYPT 33 
 
 ZENOBIA, QUEEN OF PALMYRA 95 
 
 MATILDA OF FLANDERS 110 
 
 MARGARET OF ANJOU 120 
 
 CATHARINE OF ARAGON .137 
 
 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS . , 156 
 
 QUEEN CATHERINE DE' MEDICI 232 
 
 QUEEN ANNE 263 
 
 MARIA THERESA, EMPRESS OF AUSTRIA ...... 283 
 
 CATHERINE II., EMPRESS OF RUSSIA 302 
 
 QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE 321 
 
 THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE 378 
 
 THE EMPRESS EUGENIE 447 
 
 QUEEN VICTORIA 476 
 
GIRLS' BOOK OF FAMOUS QUEENS. 
 
 SEMIKAMIS. 
 
 2069 B.C. 
 
 " What shall I do to be forever known, 
 And make the age to come my own ? " COWLEY. 
 
 THE name of Semiramis is associated with the story of 
 Nineveh's glory, and the building of the mighty city 
 of Babylon. And though historians differ widely regard- 
 ing the time of her famous reign, and some even express 
 doubts whether she ever really existed, holding that her 
 story was a mythological legend, her name is too illustri- 
 ous to be passed over in silence, and her deeds too re- 
 markable to be ignored, if she did in truth live ; and if 
 the story is a mere legend, it is, moreover, so interwoven 
 with historical records as to deserve mention. 
 
 The date we have chosen from among many, covering 
 more than a thousand years, is the date of the founding of 
 Nineveh by Ninus, who was said to be the son of the mighty 
 Nimrod, whom some say founded this great city ; his son 
 only embellishing it. Rollin states that Nimrod was prob- 
 ably the famous Belus of the Babylonians, afterwards 
 deified by the people and worshipped under the name of 
 Baal. 
 
 The birth of Semiramis, the celebrated queen of 
 Assyria, is shrouded in mystery. Legends say that she 
 
2 *: V . V : :' : '.' SEMIRAMIS. 
 
 bora '-at 'Afccalon,.a city of Syria, and that she was 
 the daughter of the goddess Derceto, and that her father 
 was an Assyrian youth of striking beauty. Being deserted 
 by her mother, she was fed by doves in the desert ; and 
 when she was about a year old, a shepherd named Simmas 
 found the infant in a rocky place, and he adopted the 
 foundling as his child, calling her Semiramis. 
 
 When she had grown to maidenhood, she was remarkable 
 for her great beauty, and was also possessed of an unusual 
 intelligence. Menones, the governor of Nineveh, having 
 on one occasion been sent by King Ninus to inspect his 
 Syrian flocks, beheld this beautiful maiden at the shep- 
 herd's dwelling, and being intensely pleased by her mar- 
 vellous beaut} r , made her his wife. So great a power did 
 Semiramis obtain over her husband Menones, that he was 
 soon completely subject to her wishes, and so much did 
 he respect her judgment that he sought her advice upon 
 every project. King Ninus previously to this time had 
 subjugated in seventeen years all the nations of Asia, 
 with the exception of the Indians and the Bactrians. He 
 had conquered Babylonia, Armenia, Media, Eg3*pt, Phoe- 
 nicia, Coele Syria, Cilicia, Lycia, Lydia, Mysia, Phrygia, 
 Bithynia, Cappadocia, and reduced the nations on the 
 Pontus as far as the Tanais. Then he made himself 
 master of the land of the Cadusians and Tapyrians, of 
 the Hyrcanians, Drangians, Derbiccians, Carmanians, 
 Chorasmians, Barcians, and Parthians. He also con- 
 quered Persia, Susiana, and Caspiana. Ninus then deter- 
 mined to build a mighty city, and so he founded Nineveh, 
 or finished the work which his father had begun. 
 
 This city was built on the bank of the river Tigris. The 
 circumference of the city was sixty miles, and it was sur- 
 rounded by walls one hundred feet high, and so broad 
 
SEMIRAMIS. 3 
 
 that three chariots might ride abreast upon the top. The 
 walls were fortified with fifteen hundred towers, each two 
 hundred feet high. When this great city was completed, 
 King Ninus determined to march against the Bactrians, 
 who yet withstood his power. According to the accounts 
 of Ctesias and Diodorus, his army numbered 1,700,000 
 foot- soldiers, 210,000 cavalry, and about 10,600 chariots 
 of war. The narrowness of the passes which protect the 
 entrance to Bactria forced Ninus to divide his forces. 
 The king of the Bactrians met him with 400,000 men. 
 The Assyrians were successful in forcing their way into 
 the country, but they suffered great loss. At length all 
 of the cities were captured except Bactria, the chief city, 
 where was the palace of the king. Ninus now besieged 
 this city, and Menones, who was one of the chief coun- 
 sellors of the king, sent for his wife Semiramis to come 
 to the camp. Semiramis seized this favorable opportunity 
 to display her power. She clothed herself in peculiar 
 garments, so that it could not be ascertained whether she 
 was a man or a woman ; and this style of robe at a later 
 day became the costume of the Medes and Persians. 
 When she arrived in the camp, she perceived that the 
 attack was directed chiefly against that part of the city 
 lying in the plain, and not against the citadel; and she 
 also perceived that this caused the Bactrians to guard 
 their fortifications with less vigilance. She thereupon 
 made selection of a body of troops who were accustomed 
 to climbing, and led them in person to the attack of the 
 citadel. This she captured, and then signalled to the 
 army below in the plains. The Bactrians, perceiving that 
 their citadel was taken, made weak resistance, and the city 
 was conquered. King Ninus so admired the daring cour- 
 age of this beautiful woman who had gained for him such 
 
4 SEMIRAMIS. 
 
 a victory, that he determined to make her his wife, and 
 offered his own daughter to Menones, in exchange for his 
 wife Semiramis. But Menones was too much attached 
 to his wife to relinquish her to another, and then Ninus 
 threatened to put out the eyes of Menones unless he would 
 consent to this arrangement. The unhappy Menones, 
 overcome with jealous love and fear, hung himself in de- 
 spair, and King Ninus then married Semiramis. Accounts 
 differ regarding the death of Ninus, which placed Semir- 
 amis upon this powerful throne. According to some, 
 Ninus died after reigning fifty-two years, and bequeathed 
 to her the sovereign power, their young son, Ninyas, 
 being too young to reign. Others state that Ninus, at the 
 request of Semiramis, granted to his young and beautiful 
 wife the absolute sovereignty of his empire for five days. 
 The young queen of twenty was seated upon the royal 
 throne, the signet ring was placed upon her finger, and 
 all the provinces of the realm were commanded to do her 
 reverence, and obey implicitly her decrees. 
 
 Semiramis, having thus secured supreme authority, 
 made most ungrateful and wicked use of her power. She 
 thereupon commanded her husband to be imprisoned, 
 and afterwards put to death ; and then declared herself 
 his successor, and reigned alone during the remainder of 
 her life. Whether she killed her husband or not, she is 
 said to have erected for him a magnificent tomb adjoining 
 the famous Tower of Belus, and adorned it with statues 
 of massive gold. 
 
 She now resolved to immortalize her name by the erec- 
 tion of marvellous monuments, and undertaking mighty 
 and difficult enterprises. She determined to surpass the 
 fame of Ninus ; and accordingly undertook the founding, 
 or embellishment, of the great city of Babylon, in which 
 
SEMIRAMIS. 
 
 work she is said to have employed two millions of 
 men. 
 
 The foundation of Babylon had already been commenced 
 by the builders of the famous Tower of Babel. Among 
 the works in Babylon attributed to Semiramis, are the 
 walls and towers and citadels ; the bridge over the 
 Euphrates, the temple of Belus, and the excavation of 
 the lake to draw off the waters of the Euphrates. She 
 is said to have founded other cities on the Euphrates and 
 Tigris. She built huge aqueducts, connected various 
 cities by roads and highways, in the construction of which 
 she was forced to level mountains and fill up valleys. 
 She is said to have marched with a large army to Media, 
 and planted the garden near Mount Bagistanon. This 
 mountain is more than ten thousand feet high, and she 
 caused its steep face to be smoothed, and on it her picture 
 was cut, surrounded by one hundred guards. She after- 
 wards made another large garden near the city of Chauon, 
 in Media, and in the midst of it, upon a high rock, she 
 erected a splendid palace, in which she remained for a 
 long time. In Ecbatana she also built a magnificent 
 palace ; and in order to provide the city with water, sho 
 caused a tunnel to be cut through the base of the lofty 
 mountain Orontes, to a lake lying upon its further side. 
 The following is one of the many inscriptions she caused 
 to be carved upon the monuments of her power and sur- 
 prising greatness. 
 
 "Nature bestowed on me the form of a woman; my 
 actions have surpassed those of the most valiant of men. 
 I ruled the empire of Ninus, which stretched eastward 
 as far as the river Hyhanam, southward to the land of 
 incense and of myrrh, and northward to the country of 
 the Scythians and Sogdians. Before me, no Assyrian 
 
6 SEMIRAMIS. 
 
 had seen the great sea. I beheld with my own eyes four 
 seas, and their shores acknowledged my power. I con- 
 strained the mighty rivers to flow according to my will, 
 and I led their waters to fertilize lands that had been 
 before barren and without inhabitants. I raised impreg- 
 nable towers ; I constructed paved roads in ways hitherto 
 untrodden but by the beast of the forests ; and in the 
 midst of these mighty works I found time for pleasure 
 and for friendship/' 
 
 Semiramis was very vigilant and daring in the adminis- 
 tration of her government. It is related that one morn- 
 ing, when she was making her toilet, it was reported to 
 her that a revolt had broken out among a portion of the 
 citizens. She immediately rushed forth, half-att'red, 
 with hair floating in disorder, and bravely faced the tu- 
 multuous crowd of rioters. Her presence and eloquence 
 quickly appeased their fury, and then she returned and 
 calmly finished her toilet. 
 
 At length she determined to subjugate India. For two 
 years sh2 m-'de preparation for this expedition. Her 
 army consisted of 3,000,000 Toot-soldiers, 500,000 horse- 
 men, and "*00,000 chariots. As the Indians were famous 
 for the : r vaso numbers of elephants which they used in 
 battle, which were con idered almost invincible, Semir- 
 amis determined to enc 1 avor to overcome this obstacle 
 by stratagem. She Accordingly ordered 100,000 camels 
 to be covered with the sewn skins of black oxen, in im- 
 itation of elephants ; and each animal was mounted by 
 a warrior. For crossing the Indus, 2,000 ships were 
 built, and then taken to pieces and strapped on the backs 
 of camels, while travelling on land. Stabrobates, the 
 king of the Indians, had raised a mighty force to meet 
 her. As Semiramis approached his realm, he sent 
 
SEMIRAMIS. 1 
 
 messengers to her to inquire why she 1 was making war 
 upon him, and demanding to know who she was who 
 thus dared to invade his kingdom. The haughty As- 
 syrian queen replied, " Go to your king, and tell him I 
 will myself inform him who I am and why I am come 
 hither." 
 
 In the first contest Semiramis was victorious, and she 
 took 100,000 prisoners ; a thousand ships of the Indians 
 were sunk in the Indus. But the Indian king, pretending 
 flight, led the army of Semiramis after him. Having 
 caused a large bridge to be built over the Indus, Semira- 
 mis landed her entire army on the other side, and with 
 her mock elephants in front of her forces, she pursued 
 the retreating Indians. At first the Indians were alarmed 
 by these false elephants ; but finding out the stratagem, 
 the king of India turned, and attacking Semiramis with 
 his real elephants, her troops were put to flight, and she 
 herself was wounded by an arrow and javelin thrown by 
 the Indian king, who was mounted on his largest elephant. 
 Semiramis and the remnant of her army hastened across 
 the Indus ; and as Stabrobates had been warned by seers 
 not to cross the river, they came to terms of capitulation, 
 and exchanged prisoners. Then Semiramis returned to 
 Assyria with only one-third of her army left. 
 
 When she arrived again within the borders of her own 
 kingdom, she was informed that her son Ninyas had con- 
 spired against her. As the oracle in the temple of Jupiter 
 Ammon had previously declared that when her son should 
 conspire against her, she would disappear from the sight 
 of mortals and be received among the immortals, this 
 news occasioned no resentment against Ninyas ; but she 
 immediately abdicated the throne and transferred the 
 kingdom to him, and is said to have put herself to death, 
 
8 SEMIRAMIS. 
 
 as though according to the oracle she had raised herself 
 to the gods. Others relate that she was reported to have 
 been changed into a dove, and thereupon flew out of the 
 palace with a flock of doves. Wherefore, the Assyrians 
 regard Semiramis as an immortal, and the dove as sacred 
 to diving. She was sixty-two }*ears of age, having 
 reigned forty-two years. 
 
 The following is one of the inscriptions in which she 
 gives her own genealogy, claiming celestial origin. She 
 is said to have inscribed her name and praises of her own 
 greatness upon many of the monuments she erected to 
 immortalize herself. 
 
 " MY FATHER WAS JUPITER BELUS ; 
 
 MY GRANDFATHER, BABYLONIAN SATURN; 
 
 MY GREAT-GRANDFATHER, ETHIOPIAN SATURN; 
 
 MY GREAT-GRANDFATHER'S FATHER, EGYPTIAN SATURN; 
 
 AND MY GREAT-GRANDFATHER'S GRANDFATHER, PHCENIX 
 
 CCELUS OGYGES." 
 
 This amusing catalogue of high-sounding ancestors 
 may not seem so very ridiculous in view of the supposi- 
 tion that she never did exist as a mortal, but that her 
 name and exploits have come down through the legends 
 of poetry. For it is stated by some authorities that the 
 story of Semiramis, as related by Ctesias, from which 
 source Diodorus takes his account, was founded upon 
 Medo-Persian poems sung by the minstrels of Media and 
 Persia, and that these poems represent the Assyrians 
 as worshipping a female deity, who was called Istar-Bilit, 
 the war-goddess, and also goddess of love. Istar of 
 Arbela was the goddess of battle, and Istar of Nineveh 
 was the goddess of love. Doves were sacred to her, and 
 in the temples of Syria there were statues of this god- 
 
SEMIRAMIS. 9 
 
 dess with a golden dove on her head. She was invoked 
 there under the name of Semirainis, a word meaning "high 
 name." Thus the Medo-Persian minstrels have changed 
 the legend of an Assyrian goddess into a heroine, and 
 made her the founder of the Assyrian empire, just as 
 Greek poets represent their heroes as children of the 
 Immortals of Olympus. 
 
 Whether the story of Semiramis is a fabulous legend, 
 or whether she is really a historical character, is rather 
 difficult to determine ; but her supposed exploits are so 
 interwoven with Assyrian and Babylonian history that 
 most authorities give her a prominent historical place ; 
 and if half of her marvellous deeds are true, she must 
 without doubt hold an illustrious place amongst the 
 famous queens of ancient history. 
 
10 DIDO. 
 
 DIDO. 
 
 037 B.C. 
 
 "As on the banks of Eurotas, or on Mount Cynthus' top, Diana 
 leads her train of mountain nymphs, bearing her quiver on her 
 shoulder, and moving majestic, she towers above the other god- 
 desses ; such Dido was, and such, with cheerful grace, she passed 
 amid her train, urging forward the labor of founding and enlarging 
 her mighty kingdom." VIKGIL. 
 
 rpHERE are two accounts given of the famous Queen 
 -- Dido. According to the historian Justin, Dido, 
 called also Elissa. was the daughter of Belus II., king of 
 Tyre. Ithobal, king of Tyre, and father of the famous 
 Jezebel, called in Scripture Ethbaal, was said to have 
 been her great-grandfather. Upon the death of Dido's 
 father, her brother Pygmalion came to the throne. Dido 
 married her maternal uncle, Acerbas, who is also called 
 Sichseus by Virgil. Acerbas was the priest of Hercules, 
 an office next in rank to that of king. 
 
 This priest possessed immense treasures which King 
 Pygmalion desired to secure, and thereupon he assassi- 
 nated Acerbas whilst the priest was officiating at the altar. 
 Dido, who was greatly attached to her husband, was horri- 
 fied at her brother's atrocious wickedness, and inconsol- 
 able in her great loss. She immediately determined to 
 flee from Tyre, and take with her the treasures of her 
 husband, that they might not fall into the hands of the 
 avaricious murderer. Having secretly collected quite a 
 number of followers, Dido embarked in a fleet, and sailed 
 
DIDO. 11 
 
 from Tyre. Pygmalion, fearing that he would lose the 
 coveted treasures, sent messengers to his sister begging 
 her to return. The ships of Pygmalion's ambassadors 
 having overtaken Dido, they delivered to her the request 
 of the king. Dido apparently assented, but took the pre- 
 caution when embarking to place in her ship, in the pres- 
 ence of Pygmalion's messengers, several bales filled with 
 sand, which she informed them contained the treasures. 
 When they were out at sea, Dido commanded her atten- 
 dants to throw these bales into the sea ; and then repre- 
 senting to those who had come from the monarch that 
 only death awaited them, should they return to Pygmalion 
 without the treasure, which they now supposed was buried 
 in the ocean, she induced them to become her companions 
 in her flight. Thereupon large numbers of the chief men 
 joined her party. Dido, with her fleet, sailed first to Cy- 
 prus, which island had belonged to the dominions of her 
 father, who had conquered it. Here she was met by the 
 priest of Jupiter, and together with his entire family, he 
 joined her expedition, in obedience to the supposed will of 
 the gods. Dido also took on board her fleet eighty maidens 
 of Cyprus, who afterwards married her Tyrian subjects. 
 
 Having been driven by a storm on to the coast of 
 Africa, Dido bargained with the inhabitants for the pur- 
 chase of some land upon which to make a settlement. 
 The natives, fearful of the power of these new neighbors, 
 would only consent to sell such a portion of land as could 
 be covered by a bull's hide. But the wily Dido was not 
 to be thus baffled ; and conceding to their terms with 
 apparent willingness, she cut the hide of the bull into 
 long and slender thongs, thus being able to enclose with 
 them a large portion of ground. The space thus purchased 
 was hence called Byrsa, from the Greek word, meaning 
 
12 DIDO. 
 
 " a hide," though some writers contend that the name of 
 Byrsa, the citadel of Carthage, was derived from the 
 Punic term Basra, " a fortification." Around this first 
 settlement the city of Carthage arose, and Byrsa became 
 the citadel of the place. 
 
 It is said, that when the foundations were dug, a horse's 
 head was found, which was thought to be a good omen, 
 and a presage of the future warlike genius of the people. 
 After this Tyrian colony had become established, the fame 
 of their queen, Dido, gained for her many suitors. But 
 she refused all their offers, having made a vow that she 
 would remain faithful to the memory of her husband, 
 Acerbas. At length, larbas, king of Mauritania, sought 
 her hand in marriage, and threatened war if his offers 
 were rejected. Justin thus tells the story : 
 
 larbas, sending for ten of the principal Carthaginians, 
 demanded Dido in marriage, threatening to declare war 
 against her in case of refusal. The ambassadors, being 
 afraid to deliver the message of larbas to their queen, 
 told her with Punic honesty, that he wanted to have some 
 person sent him who was capable of civilizing and polish- 
 ing himself and his Africans, but that there was no 
 possibility of finding any Carthaginian who would be 
 willing to leave his place and kindred, for the conversa- 
 tion of barbarians, who were as savage as the wildest 
 beasts. Here the queen, with indignation interrupting 
 them, and asking if they were not ashamed to refuse 
 living in any manner which might be beneficial to their 
 country, to which they owed even their lives, they then 
 delivered the king's message, and bade her set them a 
 pattern, and sacrifice herself to her country's welfare. 
 Dido being thus ensnared, called on Sichseus with tears 
 and lamentations, and answered that she would go where 
 
DIDO. 13 
 
 the fate of her city called her. She demanded three 
 months for consideration. During this interval she 
 caused a large funeral pile to be erected, as if for the 
 purpose of offering a propitiatory sacrifice to the manes 
 of Acerbas. At the expiration of the time allotted she 
 ascended the fatal pile, and with her last breath told the 
 spectators that she was going to her husband, as they 
 had ordered her. She then plunged a dagger into her 
 heart, before they realized her fatal intention. 
 
 This action procured for her the name of Dido, a 
 "heroine" or "valiant woman," her previous name hav- 
 ing been Elissa ; though some authorities declare that 
 Dido neither denotes the "heroine," as Servius main- 
 tains; nor the "man-slayer," as Eustathius pretends; 
 nor the "wanderer," as other writers claim; but the 
 name Dido means nothing more than " the beloved," 
 whether the reference be to Baal or to her husband. The 
 other appellation, Elissa, is said to mean " the exulting," 
 or " joyous one," though Bochart claims that it signifies 
 " the divine maiden." 
 
 Her subjects after her death paid her divine honors. 
 
 Thus authorities differ as much over Dido's name as 
 accounts differ regarding her life. Virgil's poetical ver- 
 sion of the story deviates quite materially from the his- 
 torical narrative of Justin ; but as Virgil's famous poem 
 of the JEneid has obtained such world-wide fame, and 
 gained a lasting place in classic literature, his story of 
 Dido is too important to pass by unnoticed, and may be 
 thus briefly narrated. According to Virgil's account. 
 Dido flourished about the time of the Trojan War, whereas 
 historians place her 247 years later in history, or about 
 937 B.C. 
 
 Dunlop, in his History of Eoman Literature, says: 
 
14 DIDO. 
 
 "Virgil wrote at such a distance of time from the events 
 which formed the groundwork of his poem, and the 
 events themselves were so obscure, that he could depart 
 from history without violating probability. Thus it 
 appears from chronology that Dido lived nearly three 
 hundred }'ears after the Trojan War ; but the point was 
 one of obscure antiquity, known perhaps to few readers, 
 and not very precisely ascertained. Hence, so far was 
 the violence offered to chronology from revolting his 
 countrymen, that Ovid, who was so knowing in ancient 
 histories and fables, wrote an heroic epistle as addressed 
 by Dido to ^Eneas." 
 
 The reason of Dido's death is also differently stated by 
 Virgil. But, notwithstanding these great and unrecon- 
 cilable discrepancies, no one can fail to enjoy the charm- 
 ing story of Dido as related by the gifted poet. 
 
 After the fall of Troy, as narrated by the Greek poet 
 Homer in the Iliad, the city was taken by the stratagem 
 of the wooden horse. Priam, the old king of Troy, was 
 slain by Pyrrhus, the son of Achilles ; Paris, the son of 
 Priam, having previously killed the great Achilles by the 
 shot of an arrow in his heel, as Hector had prophesied at 
 his death. After the death of Paris, Helen married De- 
 iphobus, his brother, and at the taking of Troy betrayed 
 him, in order to reconcile herself to Menelaus, her first 
 husband, who received her again into favor. Homer con- 
 tinues the story of Ulysses in the Odyssey, while Virgil, 
 the Latin poet, takes up the history of .ZEneas after the 
 fall of Troy, and gives account of his many adventures 
 by land and sea. As our sketch has only to do with his 
 visit to Carthage and his meeting with Queen Dido 
 there, we must confine our narration to that part of the 
 
HELEN OF TROT 
 Lord Leighton 
 
 By permission of Henrv Graves & Co., Ltd., 
 proprietors of the copyright. 
 
DIDO. 15 
 
 While the battle was still raging in the city of Troy, 
 and the old King Priam was slain in his palace by the 
 son of the great Achilles, ^Eneas, finding the fate of 
 Troy was sealed, hastened to his own home, and taking 
 his old father Anchises upon his shoulders, and leading 
 his little son Ascanius by the hand, followed by his wife 
 Creusa, they fled from the city to the temple of Ceres, 
 where they were to meet others, who should accompany 
 them upon their wanderings. But as ^Eneas hastened to 
 go, Creusa, his wife, was severed from him. Leaving 
 \nchises and his son with his comrades who had as- 
 sembled at the temple of Ceres, .ZEneas fled back into the 
 city, searching for his wife. But nowhere could he find 
 her, and as he sought her, sorrowing, lo ! as he called her 
 name, her image seemed to stand before him ; and thus 
 her spirit addressed him : 
 
 ' ' Why art thou vainly troubled ? The ruler of Olym- 
 pus willeth not that Creusa should bear thee company in 
 thy journey. Weep not, then, for Creusa, whom thou 
 lovest, nor think that I shall be carried away to be a 
 bond-slave to some Grecian woman. Such fate befits not 
 a daughter of Dardanus, and daughter-in-law of Venus. 
 The mighty Mother of the Gods keepeth me in this land 
 to serve her. And now, farewell, and love the young 
 Ascanius, even thy son and mine." So saying, the spirit 
 vanished from his sight, and ^Eneas, weeping, returned to 
 his father and son and his comrades, now gathered at the 
 temple of Ceres. 
 
 Then .ZEneas and his companions builded themselves 
 ships, that they might sail over the seas, in obedience to 
 the command of the gods, that they should seek another 
 land ; and when a year was wellnigh passed, the work 
 was finished. Whereupon they sailed, taking their gods 
 
16 DIDO. 
 
 with them. "We have not space to recount their experi- 
 ences in Thrace, Delos, or Crete ; or to tell the story of 
 the dreadful Cyclope's ; nor of the death and burial of old 
 Anchises in Sicily. But scarcely had they sailed from 
 the land of Sicily, when Juno beheld them. Most wrath- 
 ful was her countenance as she looked down upon these 
 hated Trojans ; and she said to herself: " Shall these men 
 of Troy always baffle my august will? Shall I, though 
 wife to mighty Jupiter, avail nothing against these peo- 
 ple? Behold, none shall pay me honor and sacrifice if 
 mortals thus withstand the wishes of the Goddess of 
 Olympus." Thus musing in her heart, she betook herself 
 to the land of JEolia, where King ^Eolus holdeth the 
 winds within the mountains ; and though they roar within 
 the earth with furious mutterings, their king restrain eth 
 them according to his will. To him fair Juno spoke : 
 "O .ZEolus, whom great Jupiter maketh king of the 
 powerful winds, listen to my words. A nation whom I 
 hold in no favor now saileth over the Tuscan seas. 
 Loose now thy storms against them, so that their ships 
 be buried in the deep ; and behold, I will reward thee 
 with the fairest maiden of all those lovely nymphs who 
 around me wait my bidding." 
 
 Then King ^Eolus answered : 
 
 " O Queen of dread Olympus 1 'tis thine to order what 
 thou wilt, and mine to obey thine august commands. It 
 was thy gracious gift which bestowed upon me this 
 sovereignty, and by thy favor am I permitted a place at 
 the table of the gods." 
 
 Whereupon he unbarred the doors of the prison of the 
 winds, which straightway rushed forth together in a 
 mighty host, and rolled mountain high the waves of the 
 sea. And thunders muttered, and lightnings flashed 
 
DIDO. 17 
 
 across the heavens. Then were .ZEneas and his compan- 
 ions in great fear, and they called upon the gods in 
 terror. Some of their ships were sunk in the sea, others 
 shattered by the winds. Then was King Neptune roused 
 by the wild commotions which waged in his dominions, 
 and being aware of the wiles of his sister-goddess, he 
 called to the winds with commanding voice : 
 
 "What is this, ye winds, that ye dare to trouble my 
 dominions without my august summons? Begone, and 
 tell your king that the sea is mine to rule, and bid him 
 confine his power to his allotted rocks and caves." 
 
 Then did King Neptune cross the sea in his chariot ; 
 and the rebellious waves sank back affrighted at the bid- 
 ding of their mighty sovereign ; and behold, the sea was 
 calm and placid as the summer's smile. And the gods of 
 the sea drew the ships from the rocks, King Neptune lift- 
 ing them with his ponderous trident. So JEneas and his 
 companions, being sore wearied with the storm, made for 
 the nearest land in haste, and thus they found a haven 
 in a land, even Africa. Hither came ^Eneas with seven 
 ships. 
 
 Glad indeed were the men of Troy to stand once more 
 upon dry land. Meanwhile, .ZEneas climbed a cliff to 
 look upon the land whither they had come, and see if 
 haply he might behold his comrades' ships, which, though 
 he saw- not, his labor was not in vain, for on the shore he 
 noted three majestic stags, and, following, a goodly herd. 
 Then did he let his arrows fly till seven of the animals 
 were killed, which furnished ample food for the men upon 
 his seven ships ; which event greatly cheered their hearts ; 
 and thereupon they made a feast upon the shore, ^Eneas 
 encouraging them with hopeful words of future peace and 
 happiness. 
 
18 DIDO. 
 
 Meanwhile upon these things great Jupiter looked down. 
 And as he gazed, fair Venus, mother of JEneas, approached 
 the mighty Jove with shining eyes bedimmed with tears. 
 And thus she spoke : u O great Father, Ruler of all things ! 
 Didst thou not promise that my son JEneas and the men 
 of Troy should rule o'er land and sea? Why art thou, 
 then, turned back from thy purpose?" To whom Jove 
 answered, whilst at the same moment he bent his awful 
 head and kissed her brow, and his stern features calmed 
 themselves like sunshine breaking through tempestuous 
 clouds : ' ' Fear not, my daughter ! the fate of thy children 
 changeth not. Thou shalt see this longed-for city which 
 the Trojan race shall build, and thou shalt receive thy 
 great-hearted -/Eneas safe on Mount Olympus. 
 
 "^Eneas shall subdue the people of Italy, and build a 
 city there, and shall reign three years ; and after thirty 
 3'ears shall the boy Ascanius, who shall hereafter be called 
 lulus, change his throne from Lavinium to Alba, and for 
 three hundred years shall Hector's kindred rule therein. 
 Then shall twin sons be born, whom a she-wolf shall 
 suckle. The one of whom, even Romulus, shall build a 
 mighty city in honor of Mars, and it shall be called Rome. 
 Juno shall then repent her of her wrath, and join with me 
 in favor of the men of Rome, and they shall bear rule 
 even over Argos and Mj^cense." 
 
 Having thus spoken, the mighty Jupiter called to his 
 presence swift Mercury, who, donning winged sandals 
 and golden helmet, flew shortly to Carthage, and as Jove 
 commanded, turned the heart of Dido and her people to 
 receive with favor these Trojan strangers thus cast upon 
 their shores. 
 
 On the next day, ^Eneas, taking only Achates with 
 him, went forth to view this new land whither they had 
 
DIDO. 19 
 
 come. And lo ! Venus, his mother, met him in the midst 
 of a thick wood. But the goddess veiled her heavenly 
 features so that he knew her not, for she appeared habited 
 as a Spartan maiden, after the fashion^ of a huntress. 
 
 Then first she spoke : ' ' Have ye seen one of nry sisters 
 hereabouts ? She is clothed in the skin of a spotted lynx, 
 and girded with a quiver ; or perchance she hunts a wild 
 boar with horn and hound." To whom JEneas answered, 
 wondering at her imperial bearing which her disguise 
 could not entirely conceal: "O Virgin! for what shall I 
 indeed call thee ; for surely neither thy mien nor voice 
 betokens mortal woman. Methinks thou art in truth some 
 goddess, perchance sister of Phoebus, or haply some 
 heavenly nymph. I have not seen thy sister ; but I pray, 
 forsooth, that thou wouldst tell us whither we have been 
 driven, and who are the people amongst whom we find 
 ourselves." 
 
 And Venus replied : " It is indeed a Tyrian city that 
 is near by, though the land be Libya. Dido is queen of 
 this great city, having come hither from Tyre, flying from 
 a wicked brother who had killed her husband in avaricious 
 greed. 
 
 " This Dido was married to one Sichseus, richest among 
 all the men of Phoenicia, and greatly beloved by his wife, 
 whose brother Pygmalion held the throne of Tyre and 
 thirsted for possession of the vast treasures of his 
 brother-in-law, the priest of Hercules. And even at the 
 altar he slew him, but hid the matter from Dido, hoping 
 to get the coveted gold. But behold, the shade of Si- 
 chaeus appeared to faithful Dido, showing his wounds by 
 which he had been deprived of mortal life, and told 
 her where he had hidden his treasures in the earth, 
 bidding her secure them straightway and prepare for 
 
20 DIDO. 
 
 instant flight from Tyre and Pygmalion's greed and 
 cruelties. 
 
 "Then did Dido gather together many of the Tyrian 
 nobles and men of skill, and with them she fled across the 
 sea, and landed on this coast, where she has reared a 
 mighty city, even brave Carthage ; but from whence art 
 thou, and whither do ye go?" To whom JEneas an- 
 swered : "The long story of our wanderings would require 
 many hours to relate. But suffice it, we are men of 
 Troy, driven by storms to this Libyan shore. Men call 
 me Prince .^Eneas, and my race is from Jupiter himself. 
 We seek the land of Italy, for thither the gods have bid- 
 den us repair. With twenty ships did I set sail, but now 
 scarce seven are left." 4 
 
 Then Venus said with tender voice and mien of sym- 
 pathy : "Surely thou art beloved of the gods, whoever 
 thou art, brave stranger ! Go show th} T self to the queen, 
 even fair Dido ; and as for thy ships and thy companions, 
 fear not. Behold yon flock of twenty snow-white swans 
 flying through air. See, e'en though an eagle swoops 
 down from the sky and puts them to confusion for a time, 
 again they move in order and settle safely on the ground. 
 If I have not learned augury in vain, thus shall thy ships 
 come safely in the harbor." 
 
 Then Venus turning, -ZEneas beheld a rosy light illu- 
 mine her neck, and from her hair there came an odor 
 sweet of heavenly ambrosia, and her garments grew into 
 goddess-like vestments around her feet, ere she had 
 vanished from the eyes of mortals. Then JEneas cried 
 aloud: "O heavenly mother! why dost thou mock me 
 with vain glimpses of thy much-loved form, nor suffer me 
 to touch thy hand, nor grant me sight of thine immortal 
 face?" 
 
DIDO. 21 
 
 Then went ^Eiieas and Achates towards the walls of 
 the city, and Venus covered them with a thick mist, that 
 thus no man should gaze on them, even though they might 
 themselves behold all men and objects. And having 
 mounted a hill o'erlooking the city, they marvelled much 
 to behold its size and greatness. Some built the walls, 
 rolling therefor great stones, while others reared the 
 citadel, or marked the spot for houses. Others digged 
 harbors or raised the walls of spacious theatres. Now in 
 the midst of the city was a thickly wooded spot where 
 Dido was erecting a noble temple in honor of Juno. Of 
 bronze were gates and door-posts, and stately threshold 
 with many steps thereunto. 
 
 And here ^Eneas wondered much to see painted upon 
 the lofty walls the famous story of the fall of Troy. In 
 order were the battles portrayed, and all the valiant Greeks 
 and valorous Trojans were also there depicted ; and -ZEneas 
 knew himself, fighting amongst the Grecian chiefs. 
 
 Much was he moved thereat, and said with tears to 
 Achates, his companion: "Is there any land which the 
 stor} r of our sorrows has not reached ? Surely this fame 
 shall profit us ! " And lo ! while .ZEneas marvelled at 
 these things, Dido, most beautiful of women, fair as 
 Diana, appeared amidst a throng of lovely maidens and 
 bands of comely youths. Right nobly did she bear her- 
 self amongst her subjects, until she sat herself down on 
 gorgeous throne in the gate of the temple, having armed 
 heroes around her. There she dispensed justice, and 
 apportioned to each his task in the building of her grand 
 and stately city. Then suddenly .^Eneas beheld a com- 
 pany of men arrive with haste where Dido held her court, 
 and quickly he perceived amongst them Antheus, and 
 Cloanthus, and other men of Troy, from whom he had 
 
22 DIDO. 
 
 been parted by the storm. Then leave being given Ilio- 
 neus, one of them, to address Queen Dido regarding their 
 presence there, he thus began : " O Queen ! whom Jupi- 
 ter permits to rear this spacious city, we are men of Troy 
 whom storms have driven to your midst ; we pray thee 
 spare our ships from flames, and save a people serving 
 the gods. There is a land called Italy, whither we 
 journey, as the gods commanded. We had a king, 
 jEneas, but we know not whether he be alive or buried 
 in the sea." 
 
 Then Dido answered: "Fear not, ye men of Troy! 
 Know that I will give you help and protect you. If you 
 will settle in this land, Trojans and Tyrians shall be equal 
 in my sight. Would that your king were here ! But I 
 will send messengers throughout this land to seek him, 
 lest haply he be cast upon the shore." 
 
 Then were ^Eneas and Achates glad to hear this wel- 
 come of the fair Queen Dido ; and they would fain have 
 shown themselves, but the mist restrained them. But 
 lo ! the cloud parted forthwith, and JEneas stood before 
 the queen, with face and breast as of a god ; for so his 
 mother had clothed him, and cast about him a purple light, 
 through which he shone with all the beauties of }'outh. 
 Then spake he to Queen Dido : 
 
 " Lo ! I am he you ask for, even JEneas of Troy. So 
 long as the rivers run to the seas, and the shadows fall 
 on the hollows of the hills, so long shall thy name and 
 glory last for this thy kindness to poor strangers cast 
 upon thy shores." 
 
 Then Dido, after a time of silent meditation, graciously 
 replied : " I too have wandered far, even as you, and hav- 
 ing suffered much, have learnt to succor them that suffer. 
 Even from the day my father Belus conquered Cyprus 
 
DIDO. 23 
 
 have I known the wondrous tale of Troy. Come ye, 
 therefore, to my palace." 
 
 So saying, she led JEneas to her stately palace, sending 
 meanwhile most bountiful provision to his companions in 
 the ships, even twenty oxen, a hundred swine, and a 
 hundred sheep and lambs. Then in her royal palace a 
 sumptuous feast was spread. The tables were weighted 
 with gold and silver vessels and cups of marvellous work- 
 manship, whereon were engraved great deeds of valor. 
 The rooms were adorned with luxurious couches draped 
 with costly purple, embroidered with cunning skill ; while 
 fair Dido was herself most radiant in resplendent robes 
 of shining tissues sparkling with priceless gems. 
 
 Then did ^Eneas send Achates in haste to the ships, 
 that he might bring the young Ascanius to the feast. 
 Also .ZEneas ordered that the boy should be laden with 
 rare and costly gifts, of such things as they had saved 
 from the ruins of Troy, that the}' might be presented to 
 fair Dido as a grateful offering for her most courteous 
 reception of himself and followers. 
 
 Among these gifts there was a mantle of golden tissue 
 and a veil bordered with yellow acanthus : this had fair 
 Helen brought from her Grecian home, and which her 
 mother Leda had lovingly bestowed. There was a sceptre 
 likewise, having belonged to Ilione, eldest daughter of 
 King Priam ; also a necklace of pearls, and a double crown 
 of gold encrusted with dazzling jewels. But ere the boy 
 Ascanius departed from the ships bearing these gifts, 
 Venus contrived a cunning scheme to guard her son 
 ^Eneas from any coming treachery from the men of Tyre ; 
 for Venus pondered well on Juno's hatred of her son and 
 many wiles. So fair Venus called to her aid her bright 
 son Cupid, even the lovely winge'd boy known as the god 
 
24 DIDO. 
 
 of Love. To him she thus unfolded her well-laid 
 plan : 
 
 " Most beautiful and powerful Cupid ! my best-beloved 
 son, who laughest at the dreadful thunders of the mighty 
 Jupiter, and canst even defy the wiles of wrathful Juno, 
 thy aid I seek in guarding .ZEneas from her treacherous 
 devices. To-day Queen Dido entertains thy brother jEneas 
 in her palace, and showeth him courteous favor ; but evil 
 may .betide unless her heart is fixed in continued liking 
 for him. List thou, and do my bidding ! His son Ascanius 
 even now cometh from the ships, laden with rich gifts 
 for the Carthaginian queen. I would that thou shouldst 
 assume his dress and features and mode of speech and 
 gait ; bear thyself these presents to fair Dido, while I, 
 meanwhile, will snatch the boy Ascanius away in a cloud, 
 and bear him to Cythera or Idalium, and hide him there 
 in heavy slumbers, resting on bed of sleep-producing 
 flowers and fanned with gentle zephyrs. Do thou, mean- 
 while, go to the palace as Ascanius, and when Dido wel- 
 comes thee with kiss and fond embrace, breathe into her 
 heart a fire of love, so that she shall forget the grave of 
 Sichaeus, and turn her thoughts and glances upon the 
 handsome countenance of JEneas." 
 
 Thus did it come to pass. Ascanius slept in the cool 
 and shady woods of Idalium, lulled by sweet-smelling 
 flowers, and Cupid in the guise of JEneas's son did bear 
 the costl} 7 gifts to the fair queen, which graciously she 
 received with tender welcome and loving embraces, of 
 the beautiful boy, who, after greeting ^Eneas as his 
 father, betook himself to the side of the gentle Dido ; and 
 as she toyed with his shining locks of golden hair or 
 pressed fond kiss upon his brow, the wily Cupid did forth- 
 with ensnare her heart ; and though he had left wings and 
 
DIDO. 25 
 
 darts behind when he put off his godlike mien, his bright 
 eyes sent arrows of fire to her heart, and his childish 
 clasp around her neck did thrill her being. But 'twas of 
 the brave JEneas that she thought, and petted the pretty 
 boy for his supposed father's sake. Much the Tyrians 
 marvelled at the costly gifts of Prince ^Eneas, and more 
 they wondered at his beautiful boy, the false Ascanius ; 
 and Dido could not satisf}^ her eyes with looking on this 
 lovely vision of youthful beauty; and little wot she of 
 the trouble that same winning child was preparing for her 
 in the days to come. 
 
 Most sumptuous was the feast. Then the queen called 
 for a huge cup of gold, encrusted with gems, from which 
 King Belus, her illustrious father, often drank in his days 
 of power ; and having filled it with the sparkling wine, 
 she cried : " Great Jupiter, thou god of feasts and mighti- 
 est of all the immortals at the table of the gods, grant joy 
 this day to men of Troy and men of Tyre, and may our 
 friendship endure to future generations." And having 
 touched the foaming goblet to her lips, she handed it to 
 the highest princes of the realm, and each in order drank. 
 Then did the minstrel lopas, famed for striking wondrous 
 music from the harp, give charming entertainment to the 
 guests, singing of sun and moon and stars ; of Arcturus 
 and Hyades, and why the winter sun hastens to dip his 
 shining head in ocean, and why the winter nights are 
 long and dreary ; and also of men and beasts he sang ; 
 of valiant deeds and adventures of the chase. Then 
 Queen Dido asked ^Eneas much of Troy and the won- 
 drous story of its direful fall ; nor was she satisfied until 
 he had recounted all things that had befallen him, both 
 during that famous contest and since, even till he landed 
 on her shores. And many days were spent in telling this 
 
26 DIDO. 
 
 most fascinating tale ; for still again each day the queen 
 begged he would renew the marvellous account of heroes 
 slain or battles won. Much was Queen Dido moved in 
 spirit by this story, and still with greater favor did she 
 esteem the teller of this wondrous tale, and scarce could 
 sleep for thinking of him. 
 
 Then thus she spake to her sister Anna : " O my sister, 
 I have been greatly troubled this night with evil dreams. 
 Who can be this wondrous stranger who hath come to our 
 coasts ? Surely his noble mien and brave valor betokens 
 that he is one of the sons of the gods ! Were I not stead- 
 fastly purposed that I would not yoke myself again in 
 marriage, to this man only might I yield." 
 
 Then Anna answered : " Why wilt thou waste thy youth 
 in useless sorrow for the dead ? Think also of the dangers 
 which surround thy throne, and to what greatness may the 
 strength of Carthage grow through such alliance. Seek 
 counsel of the gods, who, methinks, direct thy heart." 
 
 Thus did her sister offer comforting advice, the which, 
 forsooth, fair Dido was not loath to take. 
 
 Then was a royal hunt prepared. The princes of 
 Carthage waited for their queen at the palace door, where 
 her proud steed stood champing his golden bit, caparisoned 
 with ro3'al trappings of gold and purple. Beauteous 
 indeed was fair Dido, as she appeared adorned with 
 Sidonian mantle with embroideries of divers colors. Her 
 quiver was of gold, and of the same the rich clasp of her 
 mantle, while her hair was caught in knot of gold. 
 JEneas came to meet her, beautiful as Apollo himself ; and 
 forth the hunters went with goodly escort, and coming to 
 the hills, found many goats and stags, which they chased ; 
 Ascanius scorning such eas}' hunting, wishing for wild 
 boar or lion for his prey. 
 
DIDO. 27 
 
 Then did a terrible storm arise ; and seeking shelter, 
 the guests were separated from one another, and the 
 Tynan princes also lost sight of their queen. By 
 order of the gods, fair Dido and brave .ZEneas fled both 
 to the same sheltering cave. Here was their troth 
 plighted ; and when the nuptial knot was tied by Hymen, 
 god of marriage, straightway the goddess Rumor reported 
 this event throughout all Lib}*a, how that fair Dido was 
 wedded to JEneas of Troy. Then was larbas, her former 
 suitor, very wroth, and vowed swift vengeance, and made 
 haste to the temple of Jupiter and spread his grief before 
 the great ruler of Olympus. Whereupon great Jove de- 
 spatched swift-footed Mercury to JEneas with this mes- 
 
 ' ' Thus saith the king of gods and men : Is this what 
 thy mother promised of thee, twice saving thee from the 
 sptear of the Greeks ? Art thou he that shall rule Italy, 
 and its mighty men of war, and spread thy dominions to 
 the end of the world? What doest thou here? Why 
 lookest thou not to Italy? Depart, and tarry not." 
 
 This message swift Mercury brought to ^Eneas, where 
 he stood, with yellow jasper in his sword-hilt, and 
 wrapped in cloak of purple, gold embroidered Queen 
 Dido's gifts. Having delivered the commands of mighty 
 Jupiter to the trembling Trojan hero, the god Mercury 
 vanished, and .ZEneas was left with troubled thoughts to 
 ponder on these weighty words. At last he joined his 
 companions, having resolved to fly from alluring Car- 
 thage ; and he bid them secretly prepare their fleet for 
 sailing. Meanwhile he sought some fitting opportunity 
 to take a last farewell of the beautiful queen, who by her 
 loving devotion made his going grievous. 
 
 But Dido, with jealous love, which is most keen of 
 
28 DIDO. 
 
 sight, divined his purpose ere he had revealed it to her ; 
 and quickly seeking JEneas, she exclaimed in mingled 
 love and anger: u Though test thou to hide thy purpose 
 and to depart in silence from this land ? Carest thou not 
 for her whom thou leavest to die ? And hast thou no fear 
 of winter storms upon the sea? Repent thee of this cruel 
 resolve." 
 
 But ^iEneas, fearing the words of Jupiter, stood with 
 averted eyes and looks which relented not. At last he 
 spake : 
 
 u I deny not, O Queen, the benefits thou hast done to 
 me, nor while I live shall I forget Dido. But the gods 
 command that I should seek Italy. Thou hast thy Car- 
 thage ; why dost thou grudge Italy to us? Nor may I 
 tarry. Even now the messenger of Jupiter came to me 
 and bade me depart." 
 
 Then was Queen Dido very wroth ; and her eyes blazed 
 with jealous love and anger, which waged within her heart 
 a mighty contest. At last she cried: " As for thee, I 
 keep thee not. Go, seek thy Italy across the seas ; only 
 if there is any vengeance in heaven, thou wilt pay the 
 penalty for this wrong. Then wilt thou call on Dido in 
 vain. Ay, and wherever thou shalt go, I will haunt thee, 
 and rejoice in the dwellings below to hear thy doom." 
 
 Having said which, the afflicted queen hasted to depart 
 to her palace. But her grief o'ercame her powerful spirit, 
 so that she fell like to one dead, and was laid by her 
 maidens upon her bed. 
 
 Though ^Eneas would fain comfort the sorrowing queen, 
 the word of Jove o'ermastered his inclination, so that he 
 hasted to his ships and speedily prepared for flight. But 
 when the spirit returned to fainting Dido, she cried out 
 H heart, and bade her sister note the treacherous Trojans 
 
DIDO. 29 
 
 who thus so poorly repaid her generous treatment. And 
 Dido sought once more to move the mind of .^Eneas, even 
 sending Anna to him to beg that if he must depart indeed, 
 he yet would stay his going for a space of time. But 
 stern JEneas relented not ; whereupon fair Dido grew 
 weary of her life, and as she offered sacrifice she per- 
 ceived many ill omens of coming woe. Then she be- 
 thought herself of a plan to avenge her heart, though it 
 should cost her life. But she bid the matter from her sis- 
 ter, and said to her that a noted prophetess had declared 
 there was a remedy which should bring her Trojan hero 
 back or free her of him. 
 
 Thus she deceived her trusting sister, who little imag- 
 ined her direful purpose. And Queen Dido bade her 
 sister build a funeral pile for so the priestess had com- 
 manded and put thereon the sword which ^Eneas had 
 left behind ; also the garments he wore, and the couch on 
 which he lay, even all that was his, that they might perish 
 together. Also an image of ^Eneas was laid upon the 
 pile, and the priestess, with hair unbound, sprinkled 
 thereon water, said to be drawn from the lake of Aver- 
 nus, while she scattered evil herbs that had been cut at 
 the full moon with a sickle of bronze. Dido herself, 
 meanwhile, with loosened garments and bare feet, threw 
 meal upon the fire, and called upon the gods for vengeance. 
 Thus did the queen hide her dread purpose 'neath spell of 
 witchery and sacrifice to the gods. 
 
 In the meantime, JEneas lay asleep in his ship, and in 
 a dream again Mercury appeared and warned him of Dido, 
 telling him to fly and tany not. 
 
 ^neas, waking in great fear, called his companions, and 
 they straightway loosed the sails and sped o'er the sea. 
 
 And in the morning, lo ! Dido, from her watch-tower, 
 
30 DIDO. 
 
 perceived the Trojan fleet had fled. Then did she smite 
 upon her breast, and tore her hair in anguish. But still 
 she kept her real intent from all around her ; and calling 
 to old Barc, who had been nurse to Sichaeus, she did 
 dissemble her great grief, and bade her call her sister 
 Anna, that she might now prepare the sacrifice ; and Dido 
 also bade old Barce" to bind a garland round her head, for 
 she was now minded to finish the sacrifice, and to burn 
 the image of the man of Troy. Then when the old 
 woman hasted to do her bidding, Dido herself ran to the 
 funeral pile, made for the burning, and drew the sword 
 of .ZEneas from the scabbard, and having mounted the 
 pile, she threw herself upon ^Eneas's couch, and wept and 
 kissed his image, and cried: "Shall I die unavenged? 
 Nevertheless, let me die. The man of Troy shall see this 
 fire from the sea, whereon he journeys, and carry with 
 him an augury of death." 
 
 And when her sister and her maidens, coming in haste, 
 looked upon the pile, lo ! she had fallen upon the sword, 
 and the blood was upon her hands. Then a great cry 
 arose throughout the palace, and Anna, rushing through 
 the midst, called upon her name : " O my sister, was this 
 thy purpose ? Were the pile and the sword and the fire 
 for this ? " Then she climbed upon the pile and took her 
 sister in her arms and sought to stanch the flowing blood. 
 Three times did Dido strive to raise her eyes ; three times 
 did her spirit leave her. Then Juno, looking down from 
 heaven and perceiving that her pain was long, in pity 
 sent down Iris, her messenger, that she might loose the 
 soul that struggled to be free. For, seeing that she 
 died not by nature, nor yet by the hand of man, but be- 
 fore her time and by her own madness, Queen Proserpine 
 had not shred the ringlet from her head which she shreds 
 
DIDO. 31 
 
 from them who die. Wherefore, Iris, flying down with 
 dewy wings from heaven, with a thousand colors about 
 her from the light of the sun, stood above her head and 
 said, "I give thee to death, even as I am bidden, and 
 loose thee from thy body." Then she shred the lock, and 
 Queen Dido yielded up her mortal spirit. 
 
 Once more JEneas met Queen Dido when he was per- 
 mitted by the gods to descend into the land of shadows, 
 where dwelt the shades of the dead. 
 
 When JEneas and the Sibyl, who conducted him thither, 
 came to the river Styx, then was the Boatman Charon 
 persuaded to ferry them over, for the Sibyl showed him 
 the marvellous bough of gold, a gift intended for the 
 Queen of Hades ; and the huge, terrible watch-dog Cer- 
 berus, which guards the portals to the Land of Shadows, 
 was tamed by eating of the cake the Sibyl gave, made of 
 honey and poppy-seed, causing sleep. 
 
 Thus did the}' come within the Mourning Fields, where 
 dwell the souls of those who have died of love. Among 
 these shades was DJdo, fresh from the wound wherewith 
 she slew herself. And when -ZEneas saw her darkly 
 through the shadows, he wept and cried: "O Dido! it 
 was truth, then, that they told me, that thou hadst slain 
 thyself with the sword ? Loath was I, O Queen, I swear 
 it, to leave thy land. But the gods constrained me ; 
 nor did I think that thou wouldst take such sorrow from 
 my departure. But stay ! depart not ; for never again 
 may I speak to thee, but this time only." 
 
 But Dido cast her eyes upon the ground, and her heart 
 was hard against him, even as a rock. His tears and 
 groans and sighs and friendly words moved not her spirit, 
 nor could appease her wrath. Silent and scornful she 
 departed to the grove that was hard by, where dwelt her 
 
32 DIDO. 
 
 first husband, Sichaeus, who gave her love, even as he 
 was loved by her. 
 
 Thus was the love of Dido, which -ZEneas had slighted, 
 avenged. And herewith endeth the poet's story of the 
 famous Queen Dido, in which he telleth of her fame and 
 beauty and unhappy love and direful death. 
 
CLEOPATRA. 33 
 
 CLEOPATKA. 
 
 69-3O B.C. 
 
 " She moves a goddess and she looks a queen." 
 
 POPE'S HOMER'S Iliad. 
 
 " Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale 
 Her infinite variety." SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 E river shone like burnished silver, resplendent in 
 the rays of the midday sun, as Osiris drove his shin- 
 ing chariot of day across high heaven's arch. The city 
 lay along its banks in calm repose and beauty. Its pal- 
 aces and villas were shaded with palms and groves of 
 olives and clusters of stately pomegranate- trees, while 
 flowers and fountains adorned its many stately avenues. 
 
 In his costly palace the great Roman Triumvir gave 
 public audience to some important tribunal of state. 
 
 But now, above the noise of city sounds, arose the 
 strains of distant music. So faint and yet so sweet it 
 was wafted on the air, that all who heard must needs, 
 perforce, be led to seek its source, as though directed by 
 some secret spell which could not be resisted. The 
 notes seemed floating o'er the river's shining waves ; and 
 all the people crowded on its banks, with wistful curiosity, 
 striving to catch the first glimpse of the mysterious cause 
 of such unwonted melod}'. 
 
 Then flashes, with sudden glory, before their eyes a 
 wondrous sight, which holds them spellbound in o'er- 
 whelming admiration. From round a curve in the undu- 
 lating bank, glides swiftly before their vision a gorgeous 
 
34 CLEOPATRA. 
 
 barge, the poop of which was beaten gold. The silken 
 sails were royal purple, embroidered with silver lotus- 
 blossorns ; and as they swelled in the light breeze, a fra- 
 grance floated from their perfumed folds so exquisitely 
 delicious, that the winds seemed love-sick with their odor- 
 ous sweetness. The silver oars, gleaming in the sunshine, 
 kept stroke with tune of flutes and lyres and cymbals ; 
 and the limpid water, parted by their glistening blades, 
 followed each stroke with amorous touch and sweet caress- 
 ing, as though loath to break away in rainbow-tinted 
 showers of shining drops. 
 
 But how describe the matchless vision of womanly and 
 goddess-like perfection which entranced the eyes of all 
 beholders, as the gorgeous barge drew nearer to the cit}~, 
 moving with stately gliding motion, harmonious with the 
 ear-enchanting melodies played by seeming sirens, nymphs, 
 and mermaids, on silver lutes and jewelled flutes and shin- 
 ing cymbals. 
 
 Under a pavilion of cloth of gold and priceless tissues, 
 upon a couch, gorgeous with costliest draperies, in pictur- 
 esque repose, yet studied attitude of queenliest grace and 
 goddess-like abandon, appeared a form and face most 
 radiantty fair and bountifully beautiful ; though orientally 
 voluptuous 3*et exquisitely attractive ; seemingly divine, 
 like some heavenly goddess ; and yet, in truth, so like a 
 human woman, with warm, soft flesh and tender eyes, and 
 deep, rich heart's blood thrilling through every vein, 
 e'en to the end of her fair, tapering finger-tips. This 
 radiant being was attired as Venus, Goddess of Beauty ; 
 and around her stood young pretty boys, decked out as 
 Cupids, rosy-tinted, and with soft white wings expanded ; 
 and they gently fanned her glowing cheeks with feathers, 
 odorous with most intoxicating perfumes ; while lovely 
 
CLEOPATRA. 35 
 
 maidens, costumed as mermaids, plied the silver oars in 
 unison with the notes struck from the tyres of gayly dec- 
 orated nymphs ; while charming muses and bewitching 
 graces with rosy lips caressed the silver flutes, or clasped 
 with jewelled fingers the golden cymbals. 
 
 It was indeed a vision of enchantment. Whence came 
 these radiant beings? Had the great goddess, in truth, 
 descended from high Olympus, attended by her heavenly 
 train ? or did fair Isis, the queen of Egypt, worshipped 
 both as deity and nature, thus clothe herself with mor- 
 tal likeness, and deign to become visible to mortal eyes? 
 
 Thus questioned the people, and pondered of the mean- 
 ing of this' o'erwhelming scene of gorgeous majesty and 
 irresistible loveliness, according as their beliefs partook 
 of Grecian mythology or Egyptian lore. 
 
 Such was the scene of Cleopatra's sail in her magnifi- 
 cent barge, up the river Cydnus to the city of Tarsus. 
 That we may understand more clearly the life of this 
 famous queen, we must turn back the pages of Eg} T ptian 
 history. Nor can we stop there. To clearly define her 
 origin, the fair laud of Greece must also be visited ; and 
 the gorgeous pageants of Rome, at the time of her great- 
 est glory, have a place in the story of this illustrious 
 Queen of Egypt, Daughter of Greece, Magic Sorceress of 
 the Nile. 
 
 Would that we could think of the fascinating Cleopatra 
 only as this vision of perfect loveliness which she presents 
 in this enchanting scene upon the river Cydnus ; but there 
 are dark and bloody deeds and savage barbarities and re- 
 volting vices, which loom up in the background of this 
 fair picture, with huge and horrid forms, and make the 
 telling of Cleopatra's story, fascinating as it is in some 
 respects, often an unpleasant recital of vice and crime, 
 
36 CLEOPATRA. ^ 
 
 even though we endeavor to touch these dark shadows 
 ever so lightly. For as we write of history, not of fiction, 
 we cannot always avoid these hideous facts. 
 
 Why is Cleopatra so fair of skin, though an Egyptian 
 by birth ? Her attendant maidens on this fairy-like barge 
 stand round her like dusky figures cut from bronze ; but 
 her fair face and limbs gleam with pale ivory- tints, and 
 the sunshine even glimmers in her dark tresses, now 
 coiled in the Grecian knot behind her shell-like ears. 
 
 Though Egypt was her birthplace, Grecian blood flows 
 through her veins, and whitens her skin, and lightens the 
 dusky shadows in her hair, and gives the brown shadings 
 to her lustrous eyes ; and Grecian culture gives her voice 
 its oft-narrated magic charm of melting sweetness ; and a 
 spark of Grecian genius quickens her powers of mind, 
 and gives her the enchanting fascination of brilliant wit, 
 and a native aptitude of acquiring knowledge, and all the 
 polite arts and sciences ; and her Grecian free-born grace 
 lends to her form its perfect pose of queenly stateliness, 
 together with an irresistible charm in every easy motion 
 of rounded limb, and unstudied naturalness of action. 
 The agile litheness of the Greek is combined with the ori- 
 ental voluptuous indolence of the Egyptian ; which com- 
 bination explains the otherwise unaccountable, weird, 
 and subtle allurements of face and form which history, 
 romance, and poetry have acceded to her. Shakespeare 
 calls her " the serpent of old Nile," " this great fairy," 
 "great Egypt"; and Horace gives to her the name of 
 "fatal prodigy." Leigh Hunt describes her as 
 
 ". . . That southern beam, 
 The laughing queen that caught the world's great hands." 
 
 Another writer says of her : " She was born a princess, 
 
CLEOPATRA. 37 
 
 reigned a queen, won an emperor, swayed a hero, and de- 
 feated a conqueror. We think of her as the queen of 
 enslavers more than as queen of Egypt. Cleopatra is 
 enthroned enchantress of the world. She, of all her sex, 
 in her person, gave to the unworthy art of coquetry a 
 something magnificent and lustrous in its so potent exer- 
 cise. Hers was the poetry of coquetry." 
 
 Even the scene of Cleopatra in her gorgeous barge 
 upon the river Cydnus does not give a complete picture of 
 this wonderful story. In the background we must paint 
 the Mediterranean Sea, which she has crossed in her jour- 
 ney thither ; and then beyond looms up the city of Alex- 
 andria, on the further side ; and by it flows the marvellous 
 river Nile, through the fertile valley irrigated yearly by 
 its overflowing waters ; and high in the background, tow- 
 ering over all else in the picture, stand the majestic pyra- 
 mids, like huge sentinels, guarding the unknown secrets 
 of Egypt's wondrous history. 
 
 Yes, to rightly comprehend the significance of the 
 life of the famous Cleopatra, a panorama of changing 
 scenes, covering centuries of time, would be needed. But 
 we can only take a bird's-eye view of those old lands of 
 weird and endless enchantment. 
 
 ' ' Cleopatra was by birth an Egyptian ; by ancestry and 
 descent she was a Greek. Thus, while Alexandria and 
 the delta of the Nile formed the scene of the most impor- 
 tant events and incidents of her history, it was the blood 
 of Macedon which flowed in her veins. Her character 
 and action are marked by the genius, the courage, the 
 originality, and the impulsiveness pertaining to the stock 
 from which she sprang. The events of her history, on 
 the other hand, and the peculiar character of her adven- 
 tures, her sufferings, and her sins, were determined by the 
 
38 CLEOPATRA. 
 
 circumstances by which she was surrounded, and the mflu. 
 ences which were brought to bear upon her, in the soft and 
 voluptuous clime where the scenes of her early life were 
 laid." 
 
 Let us look for one moment at Egypt as a country, 
 and then take a passing glance at the peculiar character- 
 istics and customs of that ancient people. 
 
 Egypt is situated in the midst of the most extensive 
 and remarkable rainless district in the world. The Red 
 Sea divides this tract, and the eastern portion forms the 
 Arabian desert, while the western African tract has re- 
 ceived the name of Sahara. Through the African desert 
 flows the Nile ; rising in the region of the Mountains of 
 the Moon, and flowing northward, it empties into the 
 Mediterranean Sea. These mountains, being near the 
 equator, are subject to vast and continued torrents of 
 rain in certain seasons of the year. The river created 
 by these streams is the Nile, which at times expands over 
 the entire valley, forming an immense lake, five to ten 
 miles wide and a thousand miles long. The rains in the 
 mountains gradually cease, but it requires months for the 
 water to subside and leave the valley dry. As soon as 
 the water disappears, a rank and luxurious vegetation 
 springs up from the entire surface of the earth which has 
 been submerged. This most extraordinary valley seems 
 specially preserved by nature for man. The yearly inun- 
 dation prevents impassable forests, and also the presence 
 of wild beasts. Egypt being thus wholly shut in by des- 
 erts on every side, by land, and shoals, and sandbars, 
 making the approach difficult by sea, remained for many 
 ages under the rule of its ancient kings. The people 
 were peaceful and industrious, and its scholars were 
 famed throughout the world for their learning, science, 
 and philosophy. 
 
CLEOPATRA. 39 
 
 It was during this period of isolation that the famous 
 pyramids were built, and the huge monoliths were carved, 
 and the silent Sphinx was reared, and those vast temples 
 constructed whose ruined columns are now the wonder of 
 mankind. 
 
 As Egypt was always fertile, when famine existed else- 
 where, corn would be plentiful there. Thus neighboring 
 tribes from Arabia, Palestine, and Syria, when driven by 
 want and starvation, crossed the barren deserts on the 
 eastern side, and found this fertile and marvellous coun- 
 try, already old in learning and the arts, and a certain 
 kind of civilization far superior to their neighbors. 
 
 At length the Persian monarchs conquered the country. 
 About two hundred and seventy years before the time of 
 Cleopatra, Alexander the Great, in his wars with Darius, 
 had taken possession of Egypt ; and at his death, in the 
 division of his empire amongst his generals, Egypt fell to 
 the share of one of them named Ptolemy. This was the 
 commencement of the dynasty of the Ptolemies, who were 
 Greek princes, reigning over this Egyptian empire, for- 
 merly governed by a long line of native kings, reaching 
 back in histoiy to the year 3000 B.C., and including the 
 famous lines of Cheops, Thotmosis, Rameses, and others, 
 known under the general name of the Pharaohs. 
 
 We cannot give any particulars of these reigns in this 
 sketch, and will only mention some of the customs of the 
 ancient Egyptians previous to the time of Cleopatra. 
 
 Egypt contained about five millions of people, who were 
 divided into various castes. Plato tells us that in Egypt 
 not only were the priests, the soldiers, and artisans habit- 
 ually separated, but that every particular trade and man- 
 ufacture was carried on by its own craftsmen, who handed 
 down the trade from father to son. 
 
40 CLEOPATRA. 
 
 The entire cultivated land of Egypt was about twelve 
 millions of acres. The clothing of the Egyptians con- 
 sisted mostly of linen, made from the flax which grew 
 abundantly in the delta of the Nile. Wool was but little 
 employed, as the soil was not fitted for grazing sheep. 
 Cotton was first mentioned in the reign of Amasis, about 
 566 B.C. It was also this Amasis who allowed his wife, 
 the Egyptian queen, to receive the large income from the 
 royal fishery at the flood-gates to the lake of Moeris, to 
 meet the expenses of her toilet ; and a century later the 
 reigning monarch added the taxes of the city of Anthylla 
 to the former income to keep his queen in sandal-strings ; 
 the sum obtained from the fisheries being a talent a day, 
 or upwards of 70,700 pounds a year : and when this formed 
 only a portion of the pin-money of the Egyptian queens, 
 to whom the revenues of the city of Anthylla, famous for 
 its wines, were also given, it will be seen that the Egyp- 
 tian kings were at least very generous to their wives in 
 this respect, even though they were not very particular 
 about cutting off their heads or giving them a cup of 
 poison if they failed to please their royal lords. 
 
 Although wool and cotton were sometimes employed as 
 articles of clothing, the preference was given to linen. 
 Herodotus mentions some Egyptian dresses of linen, bor- 
 dered with a fringe, over which was worn a cloak of white 
 wool, similar to the bornouse worn at the present day in 
 Egypt and Barbaiy. 
 
 The dresses of the priests and persons of rank con- 
 sisted of an under-garment in the form of an apron, and 
 a loose upper- robe with full sleeves, secured by a girdle 
 around the waist ; or of an apron, and a shirt with short, 
 tight sleeves, over which was thrown a loose robe, leaving 
 the right arm exposed. Princes wore a dress very like 
 
CLEOPATRA. 41 
 
 that of the priests ; but their distinguishing mark was a 
 peculiar badge, at the side of the head, descending to the 
 shoulder, and frequently adorned with golden fringe. 
 
 This ornament contained the lock of hair indicative of 
 youth ; for though the Egyptians shaved their heads and 
 wore wigs, certain locks of hair were left upon the heads 
 of children. 
 
 Therefore this badge was always attached to the head- 
 dress worn by princes as an emblem of their rank, as they 
 were not supposed to have arrived at kinghood during the 
 life of their father, on the same principle that a Spanish 
 prince is st} T led an infant. 
 
 The robes of a sovereign varied according to his pres- 
 ent occupation. As all the kings were also priests, when 
 they were engaged in the office of high-priest their gar- 
 ments resembled those worn by the sacerdotal order, with 
 the exception of the apron and head-dress, which were of 
 peculiar form, and belonged exclusively to the rank of king. 
 This apron was richly ornamented in front with lions' 
 heads and other devices, and bordered with rows of asps, 
 which were the emblems of royalty. After the union of 
 Lower and Upper Egypt the sovereign wore a double 
 crown. Eg} 7 ptian men always shaved the entire head, and 
 wore wigs, both within the house and out of doors. The 
 women, however, wore their own hair, and were not shaved 
 even in times of mourning or after death. Ladies wore 
 their hair long and plaited in a great number of braids. 
 The hair was plaited in the triple plait, the ends being left 
 loose. Around the head was bound an ornamental fillet, 
 with a lotus-bud falling over the forehead. The ear-rings 
 worn by Egyptian ladies were large, round, single hoops 
 of gold, sometimes over two inches in diameter, or made 
 of six rings soldered together. Often an asp, whose body 
 
42 CLEOPATRA. 
 
 was of gold set with precious stones, was worn by persons 
 of rank. Some few were of silver. Women wore many 
 rings, sometimes three and four upon the same finger, and 
 even the thumb was decorated with a single ring. Rings 
 were ornamented with the scarabaeus, or sacred beetle, or 
 an engraved stone. They were occasionally in the form 
 of a knot, or snail, or snake. Two cats, with an emblem 
 of the goddess Athor between them, seems to have been 
 a favorite device for rings. Egyptians also wore large 
 gold anklets, or bangles, armlets, and bracelets, fre- 
 quently inlaid with precious stones. Richly ornamented 
 necklaces were a principal part of the dress of both men 
 and women. 
 
 Great attention was paid by ladies and men of rank to 
 the beauty of their sandals, which were sometimes richly 
 ornamented. Shoes were also common in Egypt, many 
 of them having been found at Thebes. But they are sup- 
 posed to have been of late date, and belonged to the 
 Greeks. The dresses of the women consisted of a loose 
 robe or shirt, reaching to the ankles, fastened round the 
 neck with a string, over which they wore a petticoat, 
 secured at the waist by a girdle. This petticoat or gown, 
 among ladies of rank, was made of richly colored stuff in 
 a great variety of patterns. The most elegant of these 
 figured materials were reserved for the robes of the deities 
 and queens. Slaves and servants were not allowed to 
 wear the same costumes as ladies, and their mode of 
 dressing the hair was also different. 
 
 Egyptian ladies seem to have been given to the little 
 tricks and arts of the toilet as well as more modern 
 beauties. Of the various articles of the toilet found among 
 the ancient remains, the principal are bottles, or vases, 
 for holding ointment, and the kohl, or paint for the eyes ; 
 
CLEOPATRA. 43 
 
 also mirrors, combs, and small boxes, spoons, and saucers. 
 The custom of anointing the body is usual in hot climates, 
 and contributes greatly to comfort. Their chief care was 
 bestowed upon the anointing of the hair. The Egyptian 
 combs were usually of wood, and double, and frequently 
 carved and ornamented. The custom of staining the eye- 
 lids and brows with a moistened powder of a black color 
 was of the most ancient date. It was thought to increase 
 the beauty of the appearance of the eye, by making it 
 seem larger by this external black ring around it. Many 
 of these 7coA/-bottles have been found in the tombs, 
 together with the bodkin employed in applying the black 
 cosmetic. 
 
 Some of these bottles are ornamented with the figure of 
 an ape, or monster, supposed to assist in holding the 
 bottle between his arms while the fair beauty dipped her 
 dainty bodkin into the much-prized beautifier. Pins and 
 needles have also been found among the articles of the 
 toilet. Some of these pins are of gold, and similar in size 
 to those now employed by ladies as hat-pins and fancy 
 hair-pins. Metal mirrors are also found richly orna- 
 mented and highly polished. It will be remembered that 
 the brazen laver made by Moses for the tabernacle was 
 formed of the "looking-glasses of the women," who 
 doubtless brought them from Egypt at the lime of the 
 exodus of the Israelites. The Egyptian dandies were also 
 not without the highly prized canes. Many of these have 
 been found at Thebes ; some having a carved lotus-blos- 
 som for the head. It was customary, on entering a house, 
 to leave their canes or sticks in the hall or at the door ; 
 and poor men were often employed to hold the canes of 
 guests during a party, by the master of the house, who 
 rewarded them with money or food. We have little 
 
44 CLEOPATRA. 
 
 knowledge of the nature of their baths ; but as they were 
 forbidden in deep mourning to indulge in them, they were 
 probably considered a luxury as well as a necessity. The 
 priests were remarkable for their love of cleanliness, shav- 
 ing the whole body every three days, and bathing twice 
 every day and twice during the night. So great an abhor- 
 rence did an Egyptian feel for an unshaven person, that 
 Herodotus says, " No Egyptian of either sex would on 
 any account kiss the lips of a Greek, make use of his 
 knife, his spit and cauldron, or taste the meat of an animal 
 which had been slaughtered by his hand." 
 
 This shaving of the head among the Egyptians is given 
 as a reason by Herodotus for the remarkable hardness of 
 the Egyptian sculls, as compared with those of other peo- 
 ple. The most singular custom of the Egyptians was 
 that of tying a false beard upon the chin, which was 
 plaited and shaped according to the rank of the person. 
 The beards on the figures of the gods were distinguished 
 by the turning up of the ends. No man ventured to 
 assume the beard of a deity. But after death, kings 
 were accorded the honor of having their statues thus dis- 
 tinguished. 
 
 The art of painting common boards to imitate costly 
 varieties, now so often employed, was practised by the 
 ancient Egyptians. Boxes, chairs, tables, sofas, and 
 other pieces of furniture were frequently made of ebony 
 inlaid with ivory, and articles of sj'camore and acacia 
 were ornamented with rare woods. 
 
 The Egyptians displayed much taste in their gold, 
 silver, porcelain, and glass vases. Glass was known 
 from the earliest times, and glass-blowing was employed 
 by them twenty-five hundred years ago. It is also stated 
 that their dead were sometimes enclosed in glass coffins. 
 
CLEOPATRA. 45 
 
 or a crystal sarcophagus was made by covering the granite 
 with a coating of vitrified matter, usually of a deep green 
 color, which by its transparency allowed the hieroglyphics 
 engraved upon the stone beneath to be plainly visible. 
 
 Emeralds, rubies, amethysts, and other expensive gems 
 were most successfully imitated by the jewellers of Thebes. 
 Pliny states that glass-cutting was known to the ancients, 
 and that the diamond was employed for that purpose, as 
 at present, even if they were ignorant of the art of cutting 
 the diamond itself with its own dust. " Diamonds," says 
 Pliny, " are eagerly sought by lapidaries who set them in 
 iron handles, for they have the power of penetrating any- 
 thing, however hard it may be." 
 
 The art of embroidery was commonly practised in 
 Egypt, and gold and silver threads were used for this 
 purpose. The loom was also employed by them, both in 
 weaving linen, cotton, and wool, and also for the pro- 
 duction of very rich stuffs, in which various colors were 
 worked in innumerable patterns by the loom. 
 
 The Egyptians were also famed for their manufacture 
 of paper, which was in the form of parchments made from 
 the plant papyrus, which grew in the marshy regions of 
 the Nile in great profusion. Leather was also prepared 
 by them with great skill for various purposes, and the 
 knife employed by them in the process, between three 
 and four thousand years ago, is precisely similar to that 
 used by modern curriers. Fullers, potters, carpenters, 
 and cabinet-makers formed a large class of Egyptian 
 workmen. The Egyptians were skilled in the working of 
 metals ; and gold, silver, brass, tin, iron, and lead were 
 known in those days. 
 
 The art of embalming the dead was practised by the 
 Egyptians with a perfection never since equalled. 
 
46 CLEOPATRA. 
 
 Egyptian paintings were very primitive, and their sculp- 
 tures were more remarkable for huge grotesqueness than 
 any perfection of art, as their artists were limited to such 
 a conventional mode of drawing. After the accession of 
 the Ptolemies, Greek art became well known in Egypt, 
 but their artists still continued to adhere to the Egyptian 
 models prescribed. 
 
 The Egyptians appear to have possessed some secret 
 for hardening or tempering bronze, with which we are 
 totall} T ignorant ; for the wonderful skill with which they 
 engraved their granite obelisks with hieroglyphics, for 
 which purpose they used implements of bronze, cannot be 
 equalled by any process in modern times. 
 
 The walls and ceilings of the houses of the Egyptians 
 of high rank were richly painted, as well as their tombs. 
 The ceilings were laid out in compartments, each having 
 peculiar pattern and border. The favorite forms were 
 the lotus, the square, the diamond, and the succession of 
 scrolls. 
 
 The mode of laying out the house and grounds varied 
 according to the means of the owner. Some villas were 
 of considerable extent, with large gardens surrounding 
 them. Some of the large mansions were ornamented with 
 obelisks, like the temples. About the centre of the outer 
 wall was the main entrance leading to an open walk 
 shaded by rows of trees. Here were large tanks of water, 
 and between them a wide avenue led to the centre of the 
 mansion. Their gardens were well tended, particularly 
 their vineyards. 
 
 Monkeys were trained to assist in gathering the fruit of 
 the sycamore and other trees. 
 
 Many animals were tamed in Egypt for various pur- 
 poses, as the lion, leopard, gazelle, baboon, crocodile, 
 and others. 
 
CLEOPATRA. 47 
 
 Among the fruit-trees cultivated by the Egyptians 
 were the palm, date, d6m-nut tree, sycamore, fig, pome- 
 granate, olive, peach, almond, persea, locust tree, and 
 others. The Egyptians were exceedingly fond of flowers, 
 and they were profusely employed on all festive occasions. 
 The lotus was the favorite flower, and was more often 
 preferred for house decoration and personal adornment. 
 Among other flowers cultivated by them were the chrysan- 
 themum, acinon, acacia, anemone, convolvulus, olive, 
 amaricus, and others. 
 
 The deity whom they believed presided over the garden, 
 was Khem, corresponding to the Grecian Pan. Ranno, a 
 goddess sometimes represented in the form of an asp, or 
 with a human body and the head of a serpent, was con- 
 sidered the protecting genius of a vineyard, and also of a 
 young prince. 
 
 This goddess Ranno, or the sacred asp, appears in 
 many remarkable connections with royalty, and the name 
 Uraeus, which was applied to that snake, has been derived 
 by Champollion, from ouro, the Coptic word signifying 
 "king," as its appellation of basilisk originated in the 
 basiliscos of the Greeks. 
 
 Ancient Egypt was a religious community in which the 
 palace was a temple, the people worshippers at the gate, 
 and the monarch the chief priest. " The equal treatment 
 which the women received in Egypt was shown in other 
 circumstances beside their being allowed to sit on the 
 throne. In their mythology, the goddess Isis held rank 
 above her husband. We see also on the mumnry-cases 
 that the priestly and noble families traced their pedigree 
 as often through the female line as through the male, and 
 records were sometimes dated by the names of priest- 
 
48 CLEOPATRA. 
 
 The Egyptians worshipped many gods. Among them 
 were Ra, the " sun-god," sailing in a golden boat across 
 the heavens ; Shu, meaning " air" ; Tafnut, the " dew " ; 
 Seb, the "earth"; and Nut, the "heaven." Osiris was 
 the "sun," and Isis, his wife and sister, the "dawn"; 
 Horus, the "rising sun" ; ./Set, the destroyer of Osiris, 
 was the "darkness"; and the resurrection of Osiris was 
 the rising of the sun after the darkness of the night had 
 been overcome and dispelled. Nepthys was the "sunset" ; 
 Anubis, the " twilight" or " dusk." Neith corresponded 
 to the Greek Athene", and was supposed to be a personifi- 
 cation of the wisdom or intellect of God, which is a 
 significant thought, Neith being a goddess, not a god. 
 She was the Egyptian goddess of Sai's. Originally the 
 worship of Ammon was distinct from that of Ra, god of 
 the sun ; but after the eighteenth dynasty a union took 
 place, and he was worshipped as Ammon-Ra. Thoth, the 
 god of letters, had various characters, according to the 
 functions he was supposed to fulfil. In one of his char- 
 acters he corresponded to the moon ; in the other, to Mer- 
 cury. " In the former, he was the beneficent property of 
 that luminary, the regulator and dispenser of time, who 
 presided over the fate of man and the events of his life ; 
 in the latter, the god of letters and the patron of learning 
 and the means of communication between the gods and 
 mankind." 
 
 The Egyptians related many allegories concerning their 
 various deities, but we have space only to narrate the 
 story regarding Osiris and Isis, god of the sun and the 
 goddess of dawn. As their gods were supposed to assume 
 many different characters and attributes, this story repre- 
 sents Osiris as the river Nile, Isis as the land of Egypt, 
 and Typho as the sea. 
 
CLEOPATRA. 49 
 
 The allegory is thus given : 
 
 " Osiris, having become king of Egypt, applied himself 
 towards civilizing his countrymen by turning them from 
 their former barbarous course of life, teaching them, more- 
 over, to cultivate and improve the fruits of the earth. 
 With the same good disposition he afterwards travelled 
 over the rest of the world, inducing the people everywhere 
 to submit to his discipline, by the mildest persuasion. 
 During his absence from his kingdom, T}'pho had no 
 opportunity of making any innovations in the state, Isis 
 being extremely vigilant in the government and alwa}*s 
 on her guard. After the return of Osiris, however, 
 Typho, having persuaded seventy-two other persons to 
 join him in the conspiracy, together with a certain queen 
 of ^Ethiopia, named Aso, who chanced to be in Egypt at 
 the time, contrived a proper stratagem to execute his 
 base designs. For, having privately taken a measure of 
 Osiris's body, he caused a chest to be made exactly of 
 that size, as beautiful as possible, and set off with all the 
 ornaments of art. This chest he brought into the ban- 
 queting-room, where, after it had been much admired by 
 all present, Typho, as if in jest, promised to give it to 
 any one of them whose body upon trial it might be found 
 to fit. Upon this the whole company, one after the other, 
 got into it ; but as it did not fit any of them, last of all 
 Osiris laid himself down in it, upon which the conspirators 
 immediately ran together, clapped on the cover, and then, 
 fastening it on the outside with nails, poured melted lead 
 over it. 
 
 " After this, having carried it away to the riverside, they 
 conveyed it to the sea by the Tanai'tic mouth of the Nile, 
 which for this reason is still held in the utmost abhorrence 
 by the Egyptians, and never named by them but with 
 proper marks of detestation. 
 
50 CLEOPATRA. 
 
 " These things happened on the 17th day of the month 
 Athor, when the sun was in Scorpio, in the 28th year of 
 Osiris's reign, though others say he was no more than 
 twenty-eight years old at the time. 
 
 " The first who knew the accident that had befallen 
 their king were the Pans and Sat3*rs, who lived about 
 Chemniis ; and they, immediately acquainting the people 
 with the news, gave the first occasion to the name of 
 Panic terrors. . . . Isis, as soon as the report reached 
 her, cut off one of the locks of her hair and put on mourn- 
 ing. 
 
 "At length she received more particular news of the 
 chest. It had been carried by the waves of the sea to 
 the coast of By bios, and there gently lodged in the branches 
 of a tamarisk bush, which in a short time had shot up into 
 a large tree, growing round the chest and enclosing it on 
 every side, so that it could not be seen ; and the king of 
 the country, having cut down the tree, had made the part 
 of the trunk wherein the chest was concealed a pillar to 
 support the roof of his house. Isis, having gone to 
 Byblos, obtained possession of this pillar, and then set 
 sail with the chest for Egypt. But intending a visit to 
 her son Horus, who was brought up at Butus, she deposited 
 the chest in the meantime in a remote and unfrequented 
 place. Typho, however, as he was one night hunting by 
 the light of the moon, accidentally met with it ; and know- 
 ing the body enclosed in it, tore it into fourteen pieces, 
 disposing them up and down in different parts of the 
 country. 
 
 " Being acquainted with this event, Isis set out once* 
 more in search of the scattered members of her husband's 
 body, using a boat made of the papyrus rush in order the 
 more easily to pass through the lower and fenny parts of 
 
CLEOPATRA. 51 
 
 the country. And one reason assigned for the many dif- 
 ferent sepulchres of Osiris shown in Egypt is, that wher- 
 ever an}* one of his scattered limbs was discovered, she 
 buried it in that spot ; though others suppose that it was 
 owing to an artifice of the queen, who presented each of 
 those cities with an image of her husband, in order that, 
 if Typho should overcome Horus in the approaching con- 
 quest, he might be unable to find the real sepulchre. Isis 
 succeeded in recovering all the different members, with 
 the exception of one, which had been devoured by the 
 lepidotus, the phagrus, and the oxyrhinchus ; for which 
 reason these fish are held in abhorrence by the Egyptians. 
 To make amends, therefore, for this loss, she consecrated 
 the phallus, and instituted a solemn festival to its mem- 
 ory. 
 
 "A battle at length took place between Horus and 
 Typho, in which the latter was taken prisoner. Isis, 
 however, to whose custody he was committed, so far 
 from putting him to death, set him at liberty ; which so 
 incensed Horus that he tore off the royal diadem she 
 wore ; but Hermes substituted in its stead a helmet made 
 in the shape of an ox's head. At length two other bat- 
 tles were fought, in which Typho was defeated." 
 
 This allegory is thus explained : 
 
 " Osiris means the inundation of the Nile. 
 
 " Isis, the irrigated portion of the land of Egypt. 
 
 " Horus, their offspring, the vapors and exhalations 
 reproducing rain. 
 
 " Butus, the marshy lands of Lower Egypt, where 
 those vapors were nourished. 
 
 "Typho, the sea which swallowed up the Nile water. 
 
 " The conspirators, the drought overcoming the mois- 
 ture, from which the increase of the Nile proceeds. 
 
52 CLEOPATRA. 
 
 " The chest in which Osiris's body was confined, the 
 banks of the river, within which it retired after the inun- 
 dation. 
 
 "The Tanai'tic mouth, the lake and barren lands about 
 it, which were held in abhorrence from their being over- 
 flowed by the river without producing any benefit to the 
 country. 
 
 "The twenty-eight years of his life, the twenty-eight 
 cubits to which the Nile rises at Elephantina, its greatest 
 height. 
 
 "The 17th of Athor, the period when the river retires 
 within its banks. 
 
 "The queen of Ethiopia, the southern winds prevent- 
 ing the clouds being carried southward. 
 
 "The different members of Osiris's body, the main 
 channels and canals by which the inundation passed into 
 the interior of the country, where each was said to be 
 afterwards buried. That one which could not be recov- 
 ered was the generative power- of the Nile, which still 
 continued in the stream itself. 
 
 "The victory of Horus, the power possessed by the 
 clouds in causing the successive inundations of the Nile." 
 
 Many animals, insects, and plants were considered 
 sacred by the Egyptians : among them were the cyno- 
 cephalus ape, sacred to Thoth ; shrew-mouse, sacred to 
 Mant ; dog, sacred to Anubis ; cat, sacred to Pashtor 
 Bubastis ; lion, sacred to Gom, or Hercules ; hippopota- 
 mus, sacred to Mars ; pig and ass, emblems of Typho ; 
 goat, sacred to Mendes ; cow, sacred to Athor. 
 
 The sacred oxen were Apis, Mnevis, and Basis, sacred 
 to Osiris, Apollo, and Onuphis. 
 
 The sacred birds of Egypt were the vulture, eagle, 
 hawk, white and saffron-colored cocks, little egret, sacred 
 
CLEOPATRA. 53 
 
 to Osiris ; ibis, sacred to Thoth ; goose, emblem of Seb. 
 Fabulous and unknown sacred birds were the phoenix, 
 sacred to Osiris ; the ' ' pure soul " of the king (a bird 
 with man's head and arms) , emblem of the soul ; vulture 
 with a snake's head ; hawk with man's and ram's head. 
 
 The sacred reptiles were the tortoise, crocodile, asp, and 
 frog. The fabulous serpents were snakes with human 
 heads, with hawk's head, and with lion's head. 
 
 The sacred fishes of Egypt were the oxyrhinchus, the 
 eel, the lepidotus, satus, and maeotes. The scorpion was 
 the emblem of the goddess Selk. Different species of 
 beetles were held sacred to the sun, and adopted as an 
 emblem of the world. 
 
 Foremost amongst the sacred plants of the East, being 
 not merely a symbol, but frequently the object of worship 
 in itself, was the undying lotus, which, from the throne 
 of Osiris, Isis, and Nepthys, rises in the midst of the 
 waters, bearing on the margin of its blossom the four 
 genii. 
 
 " The Persians represent the sun as ' rob'd with light, 
 with lotus crown'd.' Among the Chinese it symbolized 
 Buddha, and is the emblem of female beauty. The Japa- 
 nese deem it the emblem of purity, since it is not sullied 
 by the muddy waters in which it often grows. With the 
 flowers of the motherwort, it is borne before the body in 
 their funeral processions. The Hindoo deities are often 
 represented seated upon a lotus flower. Kamadeva, or 
 Cupid, is depicted as floating down the blue Ganges 
 
 ' Upon a rosy lotus wreath, 
 Catching new lustre from the tide 
 That with his image shone beneath/ " 
 
 The consort of Vishnu, Laksmi, was also called the 
 " Lotus-born," because she was said to have ascended 
 from the ocean on its blossom. 
 
54 CLEOPATRA. 
 
 Brahma was believed to have sprung from Narayana, 
 that is, "the Spirit of God moving on the waters," and 
 he is thus described in a Hindoo poem : 
 
 " A form cerulean fluttered o'er the deep ; 
 Brightest of beings, greatest of the great, 
 Who, not as mortals steep 
 Their eyes in dewy sleep, 
 But heavenly pensive on the lotus lay, 
 That blossom'd at his touch, and shed a golden ray." 
 
 An ancient prayer, common to the inhabitants of Tibet 
 and the slopes of the Himalayas, consists of unceasing 
 repetitions of the words, Om mane padne haun, meaning, 
 " Oh, the jewel in the lotus ! Amen." 
 
 " The Grecian god of silence, Harpocrates, who was the 
 Egyptian Aurora, or Dayspring, and was the son of 
 Isis, was often represented on the lotus. The god Nofre 
 Atmoo also bore the lotus on his head." 
 
 The lotus is regarded in Eg}'ptian delineations as signi- 
 fying the creation of the world. In the gallery of Egyp- 
 tian antiquities in the British Museum there are several 
 statues bearing sceptres formed of the lotus ; and also a 
 mummy holding in each hand of his crossed arms a lotus 
 flower. There was also brought to England, some years 
 ago, a bust of Isis emerging from a lotus flower, which 
 has frequently been mistaken for one of Clytie changing 
 into a sunflower. 
 
 Three species of nymphaecese, called lotus, were culti- 
 vated in Egypt. One of these still grows in immense 
 quantities in Lower Egypt. This lotus has fragrant white 
 blossoms, and fruit the size of that of the poppy, filled 
 with small seeds, used as an article of food. It closely 
 resembles our white water-lily. " It was the ' rose of 
 ancient Egypt,' the favorite flower of the country, and 
 
CLEOPATRA. 55 
 
 was made into wreaths and garlands. With the blue lotus 
 of the Nile (Nymphcea coerulea), it formed models for 
 many works of art. But the sacred lotus is the Nelumbo. 
 This is the sacred bean of Egypt, the ' rose lily of the 
 Nile ' of Herodotus, the lotus par excellence. Its blos- 
 soms are larger than those of the white or blue lotus ; they 
 are of a brilliant red color sometimes, but rarely white, 
 and hang over broad peltated leaves, resembling, in their 
 magnificent beauty, those 
 
 * Eastern flowers large, 
 Some dropping low their crimson bells 
 Half closed ; others studded wide 
 With disks and tears, that fed the time 
 With odor, in the prime of good 
 Haroun Alraschid.' 
 
 " The Nelumbo was cultivated as much for its useful- 
 ness as an article of food, as for its beauty. Its roots, 
 seeds, and leaf-stalks are all edible. The fruit is formed 
 of many valves, each containing a nut about the size of a 
 filbert, with a taste more delicate than that of almonds. 
 The use of the seeds in making bread, and the mode of 
 sowing them, by enclosing each seed in a ball of clay, 
 and throwing it into the water, may probably be alluded 
 to in the text, ' Cast thy bread upon the waters, for thou 
 shalt find it after many days.' The Nelumbo is a native 
 of the north of Africa, of India, China, Japan, Persia, 
 and Asiatic Russia, and in all these countries maintains 
 its sacred character. The fable of the m'mph Lotis, who 
 was transformed into a tree bearing her name, is supposed 
 to be of Eastern origin. It was under the lote-tree, be- 
 yond which there is no passing, that Mohammed was said 
 to have met the angel Gabriel. This lotis or lotus tree 
 must not be confounded with the sacred bean, or lotus 
 
56 CLEOPATRA. 
 
 flower, which is a totally distinct plant. The lotus-tree is 
 a moderate-sized thorny tree, with broad leaves, fruit as 
 large as an olive, of a reddish color, containing the nut, 
 the taste of which is sweetish, resembling that of a fig or 
 date. It was this lotus-tree which Homer refers to, when 
 he describes the charm of certain fruit which Ulysses 
 dreaded would lure his companions to give up home and 
 friends forever, as the fable was, that whosoever ate of its 
 fruit would never leave the enchanted land." 
 
 On account of these numerous stories connected with 
 the far-famed lotus of the East, it has become one of the 
 most illustrious flowers of romance and poetry. Its praises 
 have been sung in all the languages of Eastern climes, 
 until its very name has become the synonyme for oriental 
 splendor and goddess-like attractions. 
 
 The asp appeared to be one of the favorite emblems of 
 deity, and also of royalty, and many strange stories are 
 told of different species of asps. The following is related 
 to show the extreme veneration paid to sacred animals. 
 
 " A sacred serpent of Melite had priests and ministers, 
 a table, and a bowl. It was kept in a tower, and fed by 
 the priests with cakes made of flour and of honey, which 
 they placed there in the bowl. Having done this, they 
 retired. The next day, on returning to the apartment, 
 the food was found to be eaten, and the same quantity 
 was again put into the bowl, for it was not lawful for any 
 one to see the sacred reptile. On one occasion, one of 
 the priests being anxious to behold it, went in alone, and 
 having deposited the cake, withdrew, until the moment 
 when he supposed the serpent had come forth to its repast. 
 He then entered, throwing open the door with great vio- 
 lence, upon which the serpent withdrew in evident indig- 
 nation, and the priest shortly after became frantic, and 
 having confessed his crime, expired." 
 
CLEOPATRA. 57 
 
 The Egyptian asp is a species of cobra de capello, and 
 is still very common in Egypt. As our story of Cleopatra 
 is connected with the asp, the following facts will be inter- 
 esting. It is called Nashir, a word signifying "spread- 
 ing," from its dilating its breast when angry. The snake- 
 players of modern days use this same serpent in their 
 juggling tricks, taking care first to extract its fangs, or to 
 burn out the poison-bag with a hot iron. The asp is gen- 
 erally about three or four feet long ; they are easily 
 tamed ; their food consists of mice, frogs, and other 
 reptiles. They are accustomed to live in gardens during 
 the warm weather, where the}' are of great use. It is 
 supposed that the asp employed by Cleopatra was a kind 
 of poisonous snake much smaller than the common 
 variety ; and the name, like that of viper, may have been 
 applied to venomous serpents of different species. Mum- 
 mies of the asp have been discovered in Thebes. 
 
 We have not space to describe the marvellous monu- 
 ments and pyramids of ancient Egypt, and will only give 
 one statement of Herodotus in connection with them. 
 Herodotus says, that each of the two great pyramids near 
 Memphis required twenty years in building ; and that one 
 hundred thousand men were unceasingly employed on the 
 work, who were relieved eveiy three months ; and that only 
 sixteen hundred talents of silver were spent on the -radishes, 
 onions, and garlic for the workmen, which was probably 
 their only pay, making about eighteen pence a year of 
 our money, for each man. 
 
 A slight sketch of an Egyptian house and dinner party 
 will aid us in obtaining a more definite idea of the man- 
 ners and customs of those times. The apartments appro- 
 priated to the reception of guests in Egyptian houses were 
 sometimes on the ground floor, sometimes in the first 
 
58 CLEOPATRA. 
 
 story ; though from the size, beauty, and arrangement of 
 their gardens it is supposed that they often entertained 
 their friends in the cool and shady retreats there. These 
 reception rooms were provided with handsome chairs, 
 fauteuils, stools, and low seats. While conversing, they 
 did not recline on divans or couches, though ottomans and 
 richly covered couches formed part of the furniture in 
 Egyptian apartments of state. Egyptian tables were 
 round, square, or oblong ; the common people sat cross- 
 legged or crouched on the ground. Little is known of the 
 furniture of their bedrooms, but numerous wooden pillows 
 have been found with grooved places for the head. Those 
 for the rich were made of alabaster. In their entertain- 
 ments they made lavish display and provided various 
 amusements. Songs, music, dancing, buffoonery, feats 
 of agility, and games of chance were introduced. The 
 guests arrived in chariots or in palanquins borne by 
 their servants on foot. Sometimes their attendants held 
 over them parasols to protect them from the sun, and one 
 slave carried a stool to enable his master to alight with 
 ease, while another bore his writing-tablet, or whatever 
 article of apparel he might need. To those who arrived 
 from a journey, water was brought in a golden ewer to 
 wash their feet before entering the reception-room. It 
 was also customary for each guest to be anointed with 
 ointment by a servant, as he seated himself; then a lotus 
 flower was presented to each visitor, who held it in his 
 hand during the entertainment. Servants also brought 
 necklaces of the same or other flowers, and hung them 
 around the neck of each person, and placed garlands of 1 
 flowers on their heads with a single lotus bud so arranged 
 that it would fall over the forehead. Wreaths and other 
 devices of flowers were laid around the room on stands, 
 
CLEOPATRA. 59 
 
 while servants constantly brought fresh blossoms from the 
 gardens to replace those which had faded. After the 
 floral decorations, wine was offered to the guests. While 
 the dinner was being prepared, the company were enter- 
 tained by music by a band of musicians, who performed 
 upon the harp, lyre, guitar, tambourine, double and single 
 pipe, flute, and other instruments. The Egyptians paid 
 great attention to the study of music. The father of 
 Cleopatra received the name of Auletes from his skill in 
 playing on the flute. Long before the lyre was known 
 in Greece the Egyptians had attained great perfection 
 in the form of their stringed instruments, and Greek 
 sages visited Egypt to study music among the other 
 sciences for which it was renowned. Harps of fourteen, 
 and lyres of seventeen, strings are found to have been 
 used by ordinary Egyptian musicians 1570 B.C. The 
 strings of the Egyptian harp were of catgut, and some 
 discovered at Thebes in 1823 were so well preserved 
 that they emitted a sound on being touched. Apollodorus 
 relates the following story of the supposed invention of 
 the lyre : 
 
 "The Nile having overflowed the whole country of 
 Egypt, when it returned within its natural bounds, left on 
 the shore a great number of animals of various kinds, 
 and among the rest a tortoise, the flesh of which being 
 dried and wasted by the sun, nothing remained within the 
 shell but nerves and cartilages, and these being braced 
 and contracted by the drying heat became sonorous. Mer- 
 cury, walking along the banks of .the river, happened to 
 strike his foot against this shell, and was so pleased with 
 the sound produced that the idea of a lyre presented itself 
 to his imagination. He therefore constructed the instru- 
 ment in the form of a tortoise and strung it with the dried 
 sinews of dead animals." 
 
60 CLEOPATRA. 
 
 It was not customary for the upper classes of the Egyp- 
 tians to indulge in dancing, and hired dancers were em- 
 ployed on all festive occasions. Grace in posture and 
 movement was the chief object of those skilled in the 
 dance. Man}' of their postures and steps resembled those 
 of the modern ballet ; and the pirouette enlivened an 
 Egyptian party more than thirty-five hundred years ago. 
 
 Having given this outline of the manners and customs 
 of ancient Egypt, we will take up the more immediate his- 
 tory of Cleopatra. It will be remembered that Alexander 
 the Great, after his conquest of Egypt, founded the mag- 
 nificent city of Alexandria situated at the mouth of the 
 river Nile. One of the most expensive and famous of all 
 edifices erected by the Ptolemies was the light-house on 
 the island of Pharos, opposite to the city, and at some 
 distance from it a pier was subsequently built connecting 
 the island with the mainland. This light-house was a 
 lofty tower constructed of white marble. This great 
 edifice was erected by Ptolemy Philadelphus, the second 
 monarch in that line. It was regarded as one of the 
 seven wonders of the world. The architect of this light- 
 house was a man named Sostratus. Ptolemy ordered that 
 a marble tablet should be placed in the wall of the tower, 
 bearing his name as the builder of this wonder. Sostratus 
 seemingly obeyed, but he outwitted the haughty monarch. 
 Sostratus secretly engraved his own name upon the marble 
 tablet, and then covered it with an artificial cement simi- 
 lar in appearance to the marble. On this outer surface 
 he cut the name of the king, and the tablet was placed 
 in the wall without detection. In process of time the 
 cement mouldered away as the architect had calculated 
 upon, and the king's name disappeared, while that o^ 
 Sostratus remained as long as the building endured. 
 
CLEOPATRA. 61 
 
 The city of Alexandria was also world-renowned for its 
 immense library and museum established by the Ptolemies. 
 The museum was not a collection of curiosities, but an 
 institution of learning where sages congregated to devote 
 their time to the study of philosophy and science. The 
 institution was richly endowed, and very magnificent 
 buildings were erected for its use. The most valuable 
 books from all parts of the world were collected here, 
 the king buying, borrowing, or even stealing, these rare 
 treasures, when they could not be otherwise obtained from 
 neighboring nations ; and scribes were kept constantly 
 employed in copying these works on parchment by hand- 
 writing, as printing was then unknown, so far as can be 
 discovered ; though it is hardly safe to assert that any 
 thing was unknown to those ancient Egyptians, for new 
 discoveries amongst the remains of their ruined cities are 
 continually revealing some hitherto unimagiued fact re- 
 garding the knowledge and civilization of that strange 
 and powerful nation. After copies were made of all these 
 valuable volumes, or scrolls, the original was always kept 
 in the Alexandrine museum and library, while the copy 
 was graciously returned to the owners, whether individ- 
 uals or nations. At length the library collected in the 
 museum increased to four hundred thousand volumes. 
 No more could be stored in the museum, and so a won- 
 derful temple, called the Serapion, situated in another 
 part of the cit} T , was used as a depository for addi- 
 tional volumes. Three hundred thousand volumes were 
 afterwards accumulated in this temple. The strange his- 
 tory of this Serapion must not be omitted. One of the 
 ancient gods of the Egyptians was a deity named Sera- 
 pis. He was the particular divinity of seamen. A 
 statue of this god existed in the town of Sinope, in Asia 
 
62 CLEOPATRA. 
 
 Minor. The Ptolemy kings of Egypt were desirous of 
 making Alexandria the most important seaport and naval 
 station in the world, and they thought this could not be 
 accomplished without the presence of this sacred statue of 
 the god Serapis, as his worship would bring to their city 
 all the seamen who made pilgrimages to the shrine of 
 their god. The king of Sinope was unwilling to part 
 with the statue, and refused all offers of the Egyptian 
 king to purchase this venerated image of the deity. At 
 length, however, a famine fell upon the land of Sinope, 
 and the people in their distress were forced to part 
 with their sacred idol in order to obtain corn from the 
 Egyptians, who would furnish none without this condi- 
 tion. The statue of the god Serapis was accordingly 
 brought to Alexandria, where a magnificent temple was 
 erected to contain the idol. This temple was called the 
 Serapion. 
 
 It was owing to the desire of the Ptolemies to make the 
 Alexandrine library the wonder of the world, that the 
 Old Testament of the Scriptures came to be translated 
 into Greek, which had previously been written only in 
 the Hebrew language, and was known only to the Jews. 
 This King Ptolemy having learned that the Jews at Jeru- 
 salem possessed sacred writings which were guarded in 
 their synagogue there, was very anxious to obtain a copy 
 of them. As the Egyptians then held many of the Jews 
 in slavery, who had been taken prisoners in war, Ptolemy 
 rightly imagined that it would be difficult to accomplish 
 his purpose. He accordingly first bought all the Jewish 
 captives from their masters, at a cost of six hundred 
 thousand dollars, and sent the liberated Jews home to 
 Jerusalem. Deeming that he could now make his request 
 of the Jewish authorities with some hopes of success after 
 
CLEOPATRA. 63 
 
 this generous treatment of their countrymen, Ptolemy sent 
 a splendid embassage to Jerusalem, with respectful letters 
 to the high-priest, and very magnificent presents. The 
 request of Ptolemy was granted. The Jewish priests 
 made very fine copies of their sacred writings, illuminat- 
 ing them with letters of gold. These were presented to 
 Ptolemy, and seventy-two learned Jews were chosen from 
 the twelve tribes and sent to Alexandria ; and there they 
 translated the Hebrew Scriptures into Greek. This trans- 
 lation is called the Septuagint, from the Latin words, 
 septuaglnta duo, meaning " seventy- two." A copy of the 
 Septuagint Bible may now be obtained for two days' 
 wages of a common laborer ; but to secure the original 
 translation the Egyptian king expended, it is said, over 
 a million of dollars. Thus an Egyptian king gave to 
 the world the first Greek translation of the Old Testa- 
 ment. 
 
 Having given this glimpse of Egyptian history as a 
 background to our picture, we will confine the remainder 
 of this sketch to the immediate history of Cleopatra and 
 her family. Having shown the bright side of the picture 
 of the reign of the Ptolemies, we are forced to look 
 for a moment upon dark and bloody scenes. The early 
 sovereigns in the line of the Ptolemies were distin- 
 guished for wise government and the advancement of 
 their people in arts, sciences, and literature. The first 
 Ptolemy was Ptolemy Soter, who, together with his son 
 and successor, Ptolemy Philadelphus, were the most illus- 
 trious of the line. So greatly was Ptolem}- Soter, the 
 founder of the dynasty, venerated by his subjects, that 
 divine honors were paid to his memory after his death. 
 But the succeeding Ptolemies grew more and more vicious, 
 weak, and sensuous, until the great-grandfather of Cleo- 
 
64 CLEOPATRA. 
 
 patra stands forth in history merely as a horrid monster 
 of all vice and crime. He was Ptolemy Physcon, the 
 seventh in the line. The name Physcon was given him in 
 derision, on account of his grotesque appearance. Be- 
 ing very small of stature, his gluttony and dissipation 
 had increased his rotundity of figure to enormous propor- 
 tions, making him more of a monster than man in appear- 
 ance. His brother, who was king before him, dying, left 
 a wife, who was also his sister, named Cleopatra, this 
 name being common in the family of the Ptolemies. 
 Queen Cleopatra had a little son, and a daughter, also 
 called Cleopatra, a beautiful girl of about fifteen years of 
 age. The son of this queen was really heir to the throne ; 
 but the friends of Physcon succeeded in persuading Queen 
 Cleopatra to marry him, under the conditions that he 
 should be kiug, but that Cleopatra's son, the child of 
 Physcon's brother, should be heir to the throne. Phys- 
 con agreed to this ; but no sooner had he married the 
 queen, who was also his sister, when he brutally killed 
 her son, while in her own arms, and upon the very bridal 
 day. This inhuman monster then fell in love with the 
 young Cleopatra, his niece, and soon divorced the queen 
 and married her daughter. But so great were his cruel- 
 ties and crimes that the people rose against him, and he 
 was forced to flee for his life. He took with him a beau- 
 tiful boy, who was his own son, and also the child of the 
 Queen Cleopatra whom he had divorced. The people 
 then reinstated Queen Cleopatra upon the throne. When 
 the queen's birthday arrived, it was celebrated with great 
 magnificence, and many guests were assembled at the 
 palace ; at which time a large box was brought in as a 
 present to the queen. It was opened in the presence of 
 the guests, as all supposed that some neighboring mon- 
 
CLEOPATRA. 65 
 
 iwch had sent some costly gift. As the cover was lifted, 
 what was the horror of the queen and her friends to be- 
 hold the head and hands of her beautiful boy, whom 
 Physcon had taken with him ! These bloody relics were 
 placed amid a heap of the fragments of the body in such 
 manner that the mother might recognize her son, and the 
 fiend-like monster, in sending this ghastly gift, had com- 
 manded that it should be presented to his former wife as 
 a birthday token, and that it should only be opened in the 
 presence of her guests. Such were some of the shocking 
 deeds performed by members of the family of the famous 
 Cleopatra. No wonder that her nature, inherited from 
 such inhuman monsters, was not free from barbarous 
 instincts. 
 
 The father of the illustrious Cleopatra was little better 
 than his revolting predecessors. Blood, murder, and in- 
 trigue, and all crimes and vices formed his inheritance, 
 handed down by his grandfather, the fiendish Physcon. 
 The younger Cleopatra, whom Physcon married for his 
 second wife, became such an inhuman being of atrocity 
 and crime that she was put to death by one of her sons, 
 whose destruction she had planned in order to seize the 
 throne. The mother of Auletes, the father of the great 
 Cleopatra, was merciless and wicked, like the rest of the 
 line, disregarding every virtuous principle and family tie. 
 Her daughters were worthy followers of her atrocious 
 example, and at length one murdered the other in jealous 
 hate. Such was the bloody and shocking family record 
 which the world-renowned Cleopatra inherited, together 
 with the throne of one of the most powerful and re- 
 markable nations of the earth. Her father followed in 
 the same bloody footsteps. Having been dethroned by 
 his subjects, who hated him on account of his atrocious 
 
66 CLEOPATRA. 
 
 vices, for this Ptolemy Auletes was one of the most 
 dissipated and corrupt of all the sovereigns of that 
 dynasty, he fled to Rome to obtain aid to recover his 
 throne. The Egyptian people, meanwhile, had made his 
 eldest daughter, Berenice, queen. Auletes, having at 
 length raised an arm} T with the help of Pompey, the 
 Roman general, who espoused his cause, returned to Alex- 
 andria, defeated the Egyptians, and recovered his throne ; 
 and immediately thereupon put his eldest daughter, Bere- 
 nice, to death. When Cleopatra was about eighteen 
 years of age, her father died, having left a will by which 
 the throne of Egypt was to be held by Cleopatra and her 
 younger brother Ptolemy, who were to marry each other 
 and reign conjointly. 
 
 This terrible deed, which is regarded with just abhor- 
 rence as a dreadful and revolting crime in our days, was 
 a customary practice among Egyptian monarchs ; and in 
 their mythology their gods and goddesses were also rep- 
 resented as marrying brothers and sisters. As both Cleo- 
 patra and her brother were too young to govern Egypt, 
 they only reigned in name, while the government was ad- 
 ministered by two ministers, named Pothinus and Achil- 
 las. As these statesmen, one of whom was also general- 
 in-chief of the army, desired to obtain complete control 
 of the empire, they espoused the cause of Ptolemy, Cleo- 
 patra's brother and so-called husband, who was so young 
 that they imagined they could manage him as they wished. 
 They accordingly deposed Cleopatra, placing Ptolemy 
 alone on the throne ; though in reality they were the sov- 
 ereigns themselves. 
 
 Cleopatra, who early displayed a dauntless courage and 
 a resistless self-reliance, fled to Syria to raise troops, that 
 she might secure by force her rightful inheritance. Cleo- 
 
CLEOPATRA. 67 
 
 patra obtained an army, and commenced her march back 
 into Egypt. Pothinus and Achillas went forth to meet 
 her, accompanied by a large body of troops, taking the 
 young Ptolemy with them as the nominal sovereign. The 
 two armies encamped near Pelusium. But no battle was 
 fought, owing to unexpected circumstances. 
 
 It was at this time that the conflict was waging in 
 Rome between Julius Caesar and Pompey. As Pompey 
 had given aid to Ptolemy Auletes, the father of Cleo- 
 patra, in recovering his throne, Pompey fled to Egypt, 
 hoping to find succor there. But he was treacherously 
 invited to land by the Egyptian ministers, Pothinus and 
 Achillas, and then barbarously murdered while stepping 
 on shore. Julius Caesar soon after arrived at Alexan- 
 dria ; and when this news reached the camps of the Egyp- 
 tian armies, the two ministers, with the young' king, 
 Ptolemy, hastily returned to Alexandria ; and, hoping to 
 propitiate Caesar, they sent to him the head of the mur- 
 dered Pompey. Caesar, far from being pleased, was 
 greatly shocked, and ordered the head of his late enemy 
 to be buried with imposing ceremonies. 
 
 Caesar had landed at Alexandria with only a few troops, 
 and had established himself in the royal palace. He de- 
 manded the six thousand talents which Ptolemy Auletes 
 had promised for securing the alliance of Rome, which 
 had never been entirely paid. Caesar also claimed that, 
 by the will of Auletes, the Roman people had been made 
 his executors ; and he declared that, as consul of the 
 Roman people, it was for him to decide/ the dispute be- 
 tween Cleopatra and her brother Ptolemy. 
 
 While matters were in this state, Cleopatra determined 
 to use stratagem in gaining her own cause. 
 
 She therefore sent a message to Caesar, asking permis- 
 
68 CLEOPATRA. 
 
 sion to appear before him. Caesar thereupon urged her 
 to come. 
 
 Cleopatra then took a single boat, and with but few 
 attendants left the army secretly ; and arriving at Alex- 
 andria, she waited until nightfall, and then advanced with 
 a single servant to the wall of the citadel. This servant, 
 named Apollodorus, at the bidding of Cleopatra, rolled 
 her up in a bundle of carpeting, and, covering the pack- 
 age in such a manner as to resemble a bale of merchan- 
 dise, he lifted it over his shoulder and carried it into the 
 city, and arrived unmolested at the palace. In answer to 
 the questions of the guards stationed at the gates of the 
 palace, he replied that he carried a present to Caesar. 
 Whereupon he obtained access to Caesar's apartments ; 
 and when his mysterious bundle was unrolled, even the 
 stern Roman general was fascinated by the vision of 
 loveliness which met his wondering gaze. Cleopatra 
 was at this time about twenty-one years of age. She 
 was of slender and graceful form, and renowned, not so 
 much for her regularity of features, as for an indescriba- 
 ble charm and witchery of manner and expression. As 
 she pleaded her cause before the great conqueror, with 
 lively intelligence and quick wit and winning sweetness, 
 the conqueror became the conquered ; and Julius Caesar's 
 heart became a toy in the hands of this fair young girl, 
 and her wishes became his law. He who had con- 
 quered the known world was led captive by the charms of 
 this wilful, fascinating, star-eyed beaut}' of the Nile. 
 
 Caesar immediately espoused Cleopatra's cause with 
 great fervor. He sent for the young king, Ptolemy, and 
 urged upon him the expediency of restoring Cleopatra to 
 her rights as joint sovereign with himself. But the young 
 Ptolemy had now arrived at the age of wilfulness, and re- 
 
CLEOPATRA. 69 
 
 fused to give his sister her place as queen. He was, 
 moreover, very much vexed that Cleopatra had delivered 
 herself into the power of Caesar. He left the palace in a 
 rage, tearing the diadem from his head, in his indignation, 
 and declaring to the people that he was betrayed. 
 
 Ptolemy and his officers did not have a large body of 
 troops in the city of Alexandria ; for the main army was 
 still stationed at Pelusium, where Cleopatra's army was 
 also encamped. 
 
 The populace were so inflamed by the representations 
 of Ptolemy and his ministers, who declared that Caesar 
 had seized and imprisoned Cleopatra, that the excited 
 people rushed to make an attack upon the palace. Caesar 
 had but a small force to guard the palace ; but he boldly 
 sent out a detachment of his soldiers, with orders to seize 
 Ptolem}', and bring him as a prisoner. This was accom- 
 plished, to the great astonishment of the people at such 
 unheard-of daring. Then Caesar mounted to a high win- 
 dow in the tower, and made signs to the mob below that 
 he wished to speak with them. Quiet being restored, 
 Caesar told the people that, as he was a representative of 
 the Roman nation, whom Auletes had made the executors 
 of his will, he would endeavor to decide justly the ques- 
 tions concerning Cleopatra and Ptolemy ; and he recom- 
 mended them to retire without further riot. Accordingly 
 the mob dispersed, and Ptolemy and Cleopatra remained 
 under Caesar's guardianship. 
 
 The next d&y an assembly of the chief men of Alexan- 
 dria was convened by Caesar ; and the will of Auletes 
 having been publicly read in their hearing, the decision 
 announced by Caesar, that Cleopatra was entitled to reign 
 with Ptolemy, was not openly opposed. Thereupon Cleo- 
 patra was reinstated by Caesar ; and he proposed that 
 
70 CLEOPATRA. 
 
 her younger sister, Arsinoe, with a still younger brother, 
 also named Ptolemy, should receive the island of Cyprus 
 as a joint realm. Cyprus being at this time a Roman 
 possession, this provision would be a royal gift, which 
 Caesar thought would help to appease the Egyptian people. 
 
 A grand festival was held to celebrate this reconcilia- 
 tion ; and during the feast one of the servants of Caesar 
 overheard some remarks, which led to the discovery of a 
 plot which had been formed against Caesar by the Egyp- 
 tian ministers, Pothinus and Achillas. Caesar being in- 
 formed of the plan, set a guard at the door where the 
 feast was held, and Pothinus was killed. Achillas fled to 
 the Egyptian army, and assuming command, he marched 
 against Caesar. 
 
 The war which now ensued is known as the Alexan- 
 drine war. Achillas had at first the advantage in this 
 contest, as his army was large, while Caesar had brought 
 but few soldiers with him to Alexandria, and his rein- 
 forcements had not arrived. Caesar, knowing the impor- 
 tance of holding control of all the approaches to the city 
 by sea, sent out an expedition to burn all the shipping in 
 the harbor, and to take possession of a fort upon the 
 island of Pharos, which commanded the entrance to the 
 port. This undertaking was successful ; but in its accom- 
 plishment an irretrievable loss was sustained, not only by 
 the city of Alexandria, but by the entire world. This was 
 the burning of the famous library already described. 
 
 After various minor conflicts, a great battle was fought, 
 in which the Egyptians were defeated. Ptolemy, who 
 had previously joined the Egyptian army, was afterwards 
 drowned in the Nile. 
 
 The younger sister of Cleopatra, Arsinoe, who had es- 
 caped from the palace with her guardian, called Gany- 
 
CLEOPATRA. 71 
 
 medes, and had taken refuge with the Egyptian army, was 
 captured by Caesar's soldiers, and brought to him as a 
 prisoner. The war being ended by the victory of Caesar, 
 Cleopatra was placed upon the throne of Egypt, in con- 
 junction with her youngest brother, Ptolemy, as the elder 
 was dead ; and after two years Caesar returned to Rome, 
 taking Arsiuoe with him as his prisoner. In his grand 
 triumphal celebrations this Egyptian princess was forced 
 to walk before the chariot of Caesar, bound with golden 
 chains. Caesar had become so infatuated with Cleopatra 
 that he had taken her as his wife, while in Egypt, al- 
 though he was already married to a Roman lady. And 
 after Caesar's return to Rome, Cleopatra followed him with 
 their infant son, named Caesario, and her younger brother, 
 Ptolemy, who reigned with her as king of Egypt. 
 
 Upon the death of Caesar, which occurred about four 
 years after, Cleopatra endeavored to get her child acknowl- 
 edged by the Roman senate as her colleague on the throne 
 of Egypt. She was living in Rome in Caesar's villa when 
 he met his death at the hands of the conspirators. She 
 thereupon applied to Cicero to use his influence in behalf 
 of her son Caesario, and offered him some rare books and 
 works of art. But Cicero was offended at her haughti- 
 ness, and refused to espouse her cause. Cleopatra, fearing 
 that her own life was in danger, for the Roman people 
 were much incensed against her on account of her influ- 
 ence over Caesar, then fled secretly to Egypt with her 
 son Caesario. As Ptolemy, her youngest brother, had 
 now arrived at the age of fifteen years, at which time he 
 was allowed to assume all the royal prerogatives of a 
 sovereign, Cleopatra contrived to have him poisoned, that 
 she might reign sole monarch. She had then reigned 
 four years with her elder brother and four with the 
 younger Ptolemy, and from that time she reigned alone. 
 
72 CLEOPATRA. 
 
 This shocking murder of her own brother reveals the 
 savage instincts which she had inherited from her ances- 
 tors, who were guilty of the most atrocious crimes. She 
 had seen her own father murder her eldest sister out of 
 cruel revenge, and her childhood had been passed amidst 
 scenes of profligacy and vice. For a time her nobler im- 
 pulses had obtained the ascendancy over her ; but from 
 this time forward all the marvellous fascinations of mind 
 and manner, which enslaved all who came within their 
 magic spell, were debased by evil motives, and became 
 the instruments of accomplishing the ruin of all who were 
 so unfortunate as to become infatuated with her alluring 
 beauty, melodious voice, and brilliant mind. 
 
 After the famous battle of Philippi and the death of 
 Brutus and Cassius, Octavius Caesar and Mark Antony 
 and a Roman general named Lepidus formed the cele- 
 brated triumvirate, which continued for some time after- 
 wards to wield the supreme power over the Roman world. 
 The battle of Philippi established the ascendancy of An- 
 tony, and made him the most conspicuous man, as Cleo- 
 patra was the most conspicuous woman, in the world. 
 
 After the murder of Caesar, Cleopatra did not openly 
 declare herself a partisan of either his friends or enemies. 
 But as some suspicious circumstances occurred, Antony 
 afterwards summoned her to appear before him on a 
 charge of aiding Cassius. Antony was then at Tarsus, 
 and the famous sail of Cleopatra up the river Cydnus 
 took place at that time. The description of this gor- 
 geous scene we have already narrated. The name of the 
 messenger sent by Antony to summon Cleopatra to his 
 presence was Dellius. This officer had proceeded to 
 Egypt on this errand, but having beheld the far-famed 
 Egyptian queen, he was so astonished at hr beauty and 
 
CLEOPATRA. 73 
 
 captivated by her fascinations of voice and manner, that 
 he told her she need have no fears of Antony, for he was 
 sure her matchless charms would speedily overwhelm him. 
 He advised her to proceed to Tarsus with as much pomp 
 and magnificence as possible, arrayed in her best attire, 
 and displaying all the gorgeous luxury of her court. 
 
 Cleopatra was not slow to follow this advice, but she 
 took her own time in obeying Antony's summons ; thus 
 already making him submit to her own sweet will. "The 
 great secret of Cleopatra's power of winning was the in- 
 stinctive insight she possessed into men's dispositions, 
 and her exquisite tact in discovering their vulnerable 
 points. She won Julius Caesar by throwing herself into 
 his p*ower, and won Mark Antony by exercising her power 
 over him. She flattered Julius Caesar's love of dominion 
 by submitting herself to it ; she swayed Mark Antony's 
 heart by assuming rule there. She caused herself to be 
 carried to Julius Caesar ; she bade Mark Antony come to 
 her. She behaved with humility and deference to Julius ; 
 she treated Antony with gay despotism and wayward 
 playfulness. She derived her fortune and held her crown 
 from Julius Caesar's bestowal ; she outvied Antony in 
 costly display and sumptuous entertainment. Her irre- 
 sistible allurement lay in her faculty of adapting herself 
 to men's peculiar tastes and predilections. She followed 
 Julius to Rome ; she shared Antony's wildest frolics. 
 Antony's passion for Cleopatra was a luxurious intoxica- 
 tion." 
 
 When the magnificent barge of Cleopatra landed at the 
 city of Tarsus, all the populace ran to the river-banks to 
 behold the gorgeous sight. Antony, who was then en- 
 gaged at some tribunal, found himself completely deserted, 
 as every one had fled in haste to the river. When Cleo- 
 
74 CLEOPATRA. 
 
 patra landed, she ordered her tents to be immediately 
 pitched upon the shore. 
 
 Antony sent a polite invitation to the Egyptian queen 
 to dine with him; but she courteously replied that it 
 would be more pleasing to her to receive him and his 
 generals as her guests. And when Antony and his officers 
 entered her superb tents, the gorgeous magnificence every- 
 where displayed with most lavish abundance astonished 
 and bewildered them. The dinner service was of gold 
 set with precious stones, and the twelve seats arranged 
 for the guests were ornamented with purple and gold. 
 When Antony praised the splendor of the sight before 
 him, Cleopatra disdainfully replied that these were but 
 trifles ; but if the service and ornaments pleased him*, she 
 begged him to accept them all as a slight gift from her. 
 The next day Cleopatra was invited to dine with Antony ; 
 and although he endeavored in every manner possible to 
 equal the richness and splendor of her entertainment, he 
 fell so far short, that he acknowledged with chagrin his 
 defeat. Again Antony and his generals were feted in the 
 tents of Cleopatra. This time the tables were spread with 
 a new service of gold and silver, more magnificent than 
 those beheld at the former feast. The rare jewels with 
 which they were adorned, and their unique and elegant 
 workmanship, surprised her guests into still warmer ex- 
 clamations of wonder and delight. At the end of the 
 entertainment Cleopatra presented to each guest the gor- 
 geous chair in which he had reclined, and distributed 
 amongst them all the splendid service of gold and silver 
 dishes, which were richly encrusted with costly jewels. 
 
 Not only were the entertainments furnished by Cleo- 
 patra in honor of Antony so very gorgeous, but her cos- 
 tumes were each day more bewitching, and even her 
 
CLEOPATRA. 75 
 
 attendants were attired in rich and expensive robes ; 
 while the tents and surrounding gardens and pavilions 
 were illuminated with innumerable lights, which were so 
 ingeniously disposed, some in squares, and some in 
 circles, that the spectacle was surprising in beauty. An- 
 tony was not only enchanted by the brilliancy of these 
 fairy -like scenes, but Cleopatra herself was irresisti- 
 ble. ' She was not so remarkable -for actual beauty, 
 but her chief fascination was the charming combination of 
 face, form, and winning conversation, which rendered her 
 bewitching. Her voice has been compared to an instru- 
 ment of many strings, so melodious was it ; and she spoke 
 readily to every ambassador in his own language, and was 
 said to have been the only sovereign of Egypt who under- 
 stood the languages of all her subjects, which included the 
 Greek, Egyptian, Ethiopic, Troglodytic, Hebrew, Arabic, 
 and Syriac. 
 
 She was now twenty-five years of age. Her oriental 
 beauty was at its height of splendor. Her mind was 
 mature, and her wit was unequalled. These costly enter- 
 tainments continued every day ; and on one occasion, 
 when Antony playfully reproached her for her extrava- 
 gance, and said that it would not be possible to fare in a 
 more costly manner, Cleopatra laughingly declared that 
 the dinner of the next day should cost ten thousand ses- 
 tertia, equal to three hundred thousand dollars. 
 
 Antony would not believe this surprising statement, and 
 made a wager with her that she could not fulfil her 
 promise. When he arrived with his generals the next 
 day, he did not perceive any seeming added magnificence ; 
 and when Antony laughingly told her, that according to 
 his reckoning of the cost of the viands and service, she 
 had lost her wager, she replied, that she should herself 
 soon eat and drink the ten thousand sestertia. 
 
76 CLEOPATRA. 
 
 She wore in her ears two pearls, the largest known in 
 the world, which she had inherited with her crown and 
 kingdom. These two pearls were valued at two hundred 
 and twenty-two thousand dollars apiece. Dry den, allud- 
 ing to these jewels of Cleopatra, wrote, "Each pendant 
 in her ear shall be a province." 
 
 When the next course was served, a servant set before 
 her a glass of vinegar. She thereupon took one of the 
 ear-rings from her ear, and dropped it into the vinegar, 
 and when the pearl was dissolved, she drank the liquid. 
 
 As she was about to sacrifice also the other magnificent 
 jewel, one of the guests snatched it from her hand, ex- 
 claiming that she had won the wager. This rescued pearl 
 was afterwards taken to Rome, and there cut in two and 
 made into a pair of ear-rings for the statue of Venus in 
 the Pantheon at Rome. And the fame of the wager made 
 the two half-pearls as valuable as the two whole ones had 
 been. 
 
 Cleopatra was also a beautiful singer, and she now em- 
 ployed all the arts of her beauty and mind to the task of 
 completely subduing the will and the heart of the great 
 Roman general, who was soon so entirely ensnared by this 
 enchanting sorceress, that he forgot all about his wife, 
 whom he had left in Rome, and also his duties of country, 
 and even his glories of war ; and thus this old warrior 
 became a willing captive to the spell of Cleopatra, who 
 persuaded him to follow her to Alexandria, and there he 
 gave himself up to every kind of idle amusement and the 
 most profligate dissipation. 
 
 Antony and Cleopatra had each a magnificent palace 
 in Alexandria, and they feted each other by turns. Phi- 
 lotas, a young physician who was at that time pursuing 
 his studies at Alexandria, related to Plutarch's grand- 
 
CLEOPATRA. 77 
 
 father some incidents of these extravagant feasts. At 
 one time Philotas entered Antony's kitchen when eight 
 wild boars were being roasted whole. Upon expressing 
 astonishment at the large number of guests who must be 
 expected, to require such a dinner, the cook informed him 
 that there would be none others but Antony's usual party 
 of twelve ; but as each dish must be served in perfection, 
 and as Antony and Cleopatra often became engaged in 
 some new diversion just as dinner was ready, and would 
 thereupon give orders to have it wait their pleasure, it 
 was necessary to cook eight entire dinners, that which- 
 ever one should suit their time to eat, it might be served 
 without the slightest signs of neglect in its preparation. 
 
 But the most costly of the luxuries then used in Egypt 
 were the scents and ointments. Many of these perfumes, 
 such as the attar of roses, were sold for four hundred 
 denarii the pound. 
 
 Cleopatra endeavored by every art possible to so fas- 
 cinate Antony that he would not think of returning to 
 Rome. Perceiving that Antony was partial to gross and 
 sensuous pleasures, and more given to feasting than the 
 polite arts and sciences, in which Cleopatra herself was 
 remarkably accomplished, she therefore cultivated only 
 the coarser side of her nature, and gave herself up to 
 the most riotous amusements. She played at dice with 
 him, hunted b} T his side, was present at all his military 
 parades, and even joined him in his night revels in the 
 street, when Antony, disguising himself as a servant, and 
 Cleopatra dressed as a maid, accompanied by half-drunken 
 companions, they went through the streets of Alexandria, 
 attended with boisterous musicians and singers, and per- 
 petrated all kinds of wild pranks. 
 
 Thus the elegant Cleopatra, who could charm Julius 
 
78 CLEOPATRA. 
 
 Csesar with the marvellous intelligence and keen wit of 
 her conversation and the graceful allurements of her re- 
 fined beauty, when with the mad Antony, who was more 
 of a wild boar than statesman, laid aside her bewitching 
 loveliness of mind and manner, and condescended to join 
 in a wild revelry, as boisterous and undignified as his 
 coarser nature could enjoy. Yet even the witchery of her 
 youth, beauty, wealth, and gracefulness could not cloak 
 the enormities of vice and crime. Her first request of 
 Antony was the death of her sister Arsinoe, who had been 
 living in exile in Asia since the time when she had been 
 taken to Rome as a prisoner by Julius Csesar. Either 
 from jealousy or ambition, Cleopatra desired her to be 
 put out of her way, and Antony caused her to be killed 
 in the temple of Diana, at Miletus, whither Arsinoe had 
 fled for refuge. Thus did Cleopatra continue her bloody 
 work even in the midst of her most gorgeous revels. 
 
 From henceforth in her history we can no longer think 
 of her as the lovely lotus of the Nile, the very flower of 
 womanly loveliness, as she appeared upon her enchanting 
 barge, sailing in the glowing sunshine, over the shining 
 waters of the Cydnus ; but she becomes more like a beau- 
 tiful tiger, or, as Shakespeare calls her, "that old serpent 
 of the Nile," charming the unwary victims by her glis- 
 tening eyes and alluring wiles, only to crush them at last 
 within the encircling coils of her irresistible spell. An- 
 tony had sent for her as her master, but he was now her 
 slave. 
 
 One day the queen of Egypt accompanied him on a 
 fishing excursion. Antony, having caught nothing, was 
 much chagrined ; and to appear successful in the eyes of 
 Cleopatra, he ordered a fisherman to dive beneath the 
 water and fasten to his line one of the large fish which 
 
CLEOPATRA. 79 
 
 the fisherman had just caught. This having been done, 
 Antony drew in his line with much satisfaction, and dis- 
 played the fine trophy he had so skilfully ensnared. 
 Cleopatra, however, was not ignorant of this artifice, but 
 she affected much admiration for Antony's successful 
 angling, and she arranged for another fishing party the 
 next day. Accordingly, when they once again set sail in 
 the fishing-boats, she ordered one of her servants to dive 
 below the water when Antony should throw his line, and 
 fasten to his hook a large salt fish which had been brought 
 from the province of Pontus. Again Antony drew in his 
 line in triumph, which was quickly changed to intense 
 mortification as he beheld the salt fish dangling from his 
 hook. Amidst the uproarious laughter wh ch this amusing 
 incident occasioned, Cleopatra exclaimed, " Leave the 
 line, good general, to us, the kings and queens of Pharos 
 and Canopus ; your business is to fish for cities, kingdoms, 
 and kings." 
 
 While Antony thus amused himself with such sports, 
 and much more condemnatory pleasures, news reached 
 him of trouble at Rome. His wife Fulvia and his brother 
 had been banished, and Octavius Caesar declared himself 
 an open foe. Fulvia soon after died, and Antony return- 
 ing to Rome, was reconciled to young Caesar by marrying 
 his sister Octavia, although Cleopatra alread} r pretended 
 to be his lawful wife ; and in order to appease her, An- 
 tony was obliged to make magnificent presents to Cleopa- 
 tra, consisting of the provinces of Phoenicia, the Lower 
 Syria, the Isle of Cyprus, with a great part of Cilicia. 
 Cleopatra also begged him to put to death Herod, king of 
 Judea, and Malichus, king of Arabia, who were her en- 
 emies. But Antony did not yield to these bloody demands, 
 and only gave her the balsam country around Jericho, 
 
80 CLEOPATRA. 
 
 and a rent-charge of thirty thousand pounds a year on 
 the revenues of Judea. It is related that at a feast, 
 when Cleopatra perceived Antony to be under the influ- 
 ence of wine, she even presumed to ask him to give her 
 the Roman Empire, which he was not ashamed to promise 
 her. On receiving these large additions to her kingdom, 
 Cleopatra, in honor of Antony, dated the years of her 
 reign anew, calling what was in reality the sixteenth year 
 of her reign over Egypt, the first, and thus she reckoned 
 them until her death. Antony also presented to her the 
 large libraiy of Pergamus, which had fallen to his share 
 in the spoils of war. This library Eumenes and Attalus 
 had hoped to make as famous as the museum of Alexan- 
 dria, which had perished in the flames of the Alexandrine 
 war. Cleopatra placed the two hundred thousand volumes 
 thus acquired, in the temple of Serapis, and once again 
 Alexandria held the largest library in the world, notwith- 
 standing the destruction of the far-famed museum. These 
 royal gifts caused the Romans to entertain bitter hatred 
 against Antony, and especially against Cleopatra, whom 
 they blamed for her evil influence over their once illustri- 
 ous general. 
 
 After Antony's marriage to Octavia, he made several 
 expeditions against surrounding nations, and Octavia 
 accompanied him into Greece. But open hostilities hav- 
 ing broken out between Octavius and Antony, Octavia 
 was sent to Rome to effect a reconciliation between her 
 husband and brother. This she partially accomplished ; 
 but Antony, again ensnared by the enchantments of Cleo- 
 patra, forgot all his duties of state and country, and again 
 was lured to Alexandria, leaving Octavia in Rome. This 
 illustrious Roman lady displayed the most loyal devotion 
 to her husband and their children, and endeavored in 
 
CLEOPATRA. 81 
 
 every way to dissuade her brother from taking up arms 
 against Antony, whose cruel neglect of his wife inflamed 
 her brother, Octavius Caesar, to the most intense hatred, 
 and a determination to avenge her wrongs, as well as 
 assert his own ambitious power. 
 
 Meanwhile, Antony was spending his time in Egypt. 
 At length he determined to undertake an expedition 
 against the Parthians and Armenians. While in Phoe- 
 nicia, Cleopatra joined him, bringing him money and 
 clothes and food for his soldiers. Meanwhile Octavia had 
 also left Rome and reached Athens, on her way to An- 
 tony's camp, to bring him the supplies and money she 
 had procured in Rome for his suffering troops. Fearing 
 that Octavia might win Antony from her side, Cleopatra 
 affected to die for love of him. She refrained from food, 
 and was often discovered by him in tears ; and her at- 
 tendants constantly reminded him of her great grief, and 
 declared that if he should leave her, she would surely die. 
 As Antony had married Octavia only for political power 
 in Rome, and as he did love Cleopatra more intensely 
 than he had ever loved any human being before, he sent 
 word to Octavia to return to Rome, and soon after sent 
 deputies to Rome, to declare his divorce from Octavia, 
 and with orders to command her to leave his house, with 
 all her children. 
 
 Even this wicked and cruel indignity did not destroy 
 the devoted love of Octavia. She obeyed the outrageous 
 summons, and continued to take the most untiring care, 
 not only of her own children, but of those of Antony and 
 his former wife, Fulvia. She also endeavored to appease 
 the indignation of the Roman people against him ; but she 
 could not lessen the resentment of her brother Octavius, 
 who now prepared for open war. While the names of 
 
82 CLEOPATRA. 
 
 Antony and Cleopatra were held in abhorrence in Rome, 
 in Alexandria new and most gorgeous honors were ac- 
 corded them. 
 
 In the magnificent palace of the Ptolemies a massive 
 throne of gold was erected, the ascent to which was by 
 steps of solid silver. Upon this glistening throne sat 
 Antony and Cleopatra. He was arrayed in a superb robe 
 of purple, embroidered with gold, and buttoned with flash- 
 ing diamonds. On his side he wore a Persian scimitar, 
 the handle and sheath of which were encrusted with spar- 
 kling gems. His diadem glittered with precious stones, 
 and in his right hand he held a sceptre of gold. Thus 
 had he caused himself to be so gorgeously attired, in order, 
 as he said, "that in such royal equipage he might deserve 
 to be the husband of a queen." 
 
 Upon his right side sat Cleopatra, costumed as the 
 goddess Isis, whose name and honors she assumed on 
 public occasions of great pomp and magnificence. She 
 wore a shining robe of the precious linen set apart for 
 the service of that goddess, so fine and sheer that it 
 seemed to encase her graceful form in gleaming folds of 
 shimmering light. Upon her royal brow glistened most 
 priceless jewels, while her fair neck seemed.almost weighted 
 with its sparkling gem-encrusted chains. She looked, in 
 truth, a very goddess, this proud Egyptian Queen, this 
 gorgeous Lotus Blossom of the Nile, this most matchless 
 siren, most peerless Peri of the Orient ! Never before 
 had she appeared more gloriously beautiful ; though even 
 now the black clouds of disappointment and death were 
 gathering thick around, soon to overshadow herself and 
 illustrious kingdom in irretrievable ruin. But unmindful 
 of the coming storm, the eyes of this Eg3*ptiau Isis, seated 
 in goddess-like magnificence upon her shining throne, 
 flashed with proud triumph and gratified ambttion. 
 
CLEOPATRA. 83 
 
 A little lower upon this gorgeous throne sat three chil- 
 dren. The eldest was Caesario, the son of Cleopatra and 
 Julius Caesar ; the two younger were Alexander and 
 Ptolemy, sons of Anton} T and Cleopatra. Caesario was 
 dressed as a young Egyptian prince ; while the younger 
 boys wore the costumes of the countries over which they 
 were to reign. After the people had assembled in the 
 palace, by the command of Antony, heralds proclaimed 
 Cleopatra queen of Egypt, Cyprus, Libya, and Coelosyria, 
 in conjunction with her son Csesario. The young princes 
 Alexander and Ptolemy were also proclaimed u kings of 
 kings " ; and to Alexander, the elder, Antony gave the 
 kingdoms of Armenia and Media, with Parthia, when 
 Antony should have conquered it. To the younger, 
 Ptolemy, the kingdoms of Syria, Phoenicia, and Cilicia 
 were given. After the proclamation the three young 
 princes knelt before Cleopatra and Anton}', and made 
 them royal beisance, kissing their hands. To each of 
 them was afterwards assigned a regiment of guards and 
 a retinue of youths chosen from the principal families in 
 the several countries. 
 
 Caesar now advanced with his army against Antony. 
 Cleopatra, having furnished him with troops and ships, 
 which, together with his own land forces, formed a large 
 army, they departed to Ephesus, and thence to Samos, 
 where, notwithstanding their impending peril, they passed 
 many days in feasting and pleasure. The island became 
 such a scene of riot and revelry that the people exclaimed 
 in astonishment, "If Antony celebrates such festivities 
 before going into battle, by what means could he express 
 his joy should he obtain the victory ? " 
 
 Antony and Cleopatra, with a magnifipent retinue, then 
 went to Athens. As Octavia had been formerly received 
 
84 CLEOPATRA. 
 
 by the Athenians with marked attentions, Cleopatra de- 
 termined that she would outvie her rival. She accord- 
 ingly lavished such costly gifts and immense sums of 
 money amongst the Athenians, that they were amazed, 
 and decreed to her the most exalted honors. They sent 
 an imposing embassy to her, and Antony himself, in the 
 character of an Athenian citizen, was one of the ambassa- 
 dors. 
 
 It was during one of the gorgeous feasts celebrated at 
 Samos that the following incident is supposed to have 
 occurred. 
 
 Notwithstanding Cleopatra's professed fondness for An- 
 tony, he began at length to fear that in some moment of 
 anger or treachery she might poison him. He therefore 
 ordered that all of the viands served at these banquets 
 should be first tasted by one of his servants before he 
 partook of them. Cleopatra, perceiving this mistrust, 
 determined to teach him how completely he was in her 
 power if she chose to do him harm. 
 
 She therefore ordered the stems of the flowers to be 
 poisoned, which formed the wreaths worn by Antony and 
 herself at table according to the Egyptian custom, and 
 in the midst of the feast she proposed that they should 
 pluck the flowers from their crowns and drink them in 
 their wine. Antony readily consented, and breaking off 
 many of the blossoms from his wreath, he threw them in 
 his glass and raised it to his lips to drink. 
 
 But Cleopatra quickly seized his uplifted arm and ex- 
 claimed : "I am the poisoner against whom you take 
 such mighty precautions. If it were possible for me to 
 live without you, judge now whether I wanted either 
 opportunity or reason for such action." She thereupon 
 immediately ordered that a prisoner, already condemned 
 
CLEOPATRA. 85 
 
 to die, should be brought into the apartment, and the cup 
 which Antony had been about to taste was given him, 
 and Cleopatra commanded that he should drink its con- 
 tents ; after taking which, the slave immediately expired. 
 
 At length Anton} 7 and Cleopatra set fortli with their 
 entire fleet to meet their Roman foes. This fleet con- 
 sisted of five hundred ships of war of great size and pecu- 
 liar construction ; but they were illy manned, as Antony 
 was not able to secure mariners enough, and had been 
 obliged to employ husbandmen, artisans, muleteers, and 
 even boys. On board the fleet were two hundred thou- 
 sand foot and twelve thousand horse. The kings of 
 many countries had joined their forces in behalf of Cleo- 
 patra, and troops had been sent from Libya, Cappadocia, 
 Paphlagonia, Cornagena, Thrace, Pontus, Judea, Lycao- 
 nia, Galatia, and Media. Though all the ships were im- 
 posing, none equalled the magnificence of Cleopatra's 
 galley with its purple sails glittering with gold ; while 
 flags and banners floated in the breeze, and trumpets, 
 drums, cymbals, and other instruments filled the air with 
 gay and inspiring strains of martial music. Antony fol- 
 lowed her in a galley little less splendid. 
 
 Cleopatra was flushed with triumph. Accompanied by 
 one of the most renowned generals of the world, she 
 proudly threatened the powerful Roman capital, and 
 even dared to imagine that she could subdue the world 
 and reign sole mistress of the greatest kingdoms of the 
 earth. 
 
 Octavius Caesar had only two hundred and fifty ships, 
 and eighty thousand foot and twelve thousand horse. 
 But his war -galleys were perfectly manned with experi- 
 enced seamen, and his troops were old veterans in many 
 illustrious wars. 
 
86 CLEOPATRA, 
 
 By the advice of Cleopatra, Antony determined to risk 
 all in a naval battle rather than a land conflict. Had he 
 chosen the latter, his superior numbers might have turned 
 the tide in his favor. 
 
 The important battle was fought upon the 2d of Sep- 
 tember, in the Gulf of Ambracia, near the city of 
 Actium. While the battle was raging, and Antony's 
 chances of success were equal with those of Caesar, Cleo- 
 patra turned and fled in fright, drawing after her the 
 entire Egyptian squadron. 
 
 Antony, perceiving her flight, forgot everything in his 
 wild impulse to follow her ; and turning his galley, he 
 ignominiously pursued her, leaving his soldiers to carry 
 on the conflict. So bravely did they fight, even after this 
 shameful desertion of their leader, that Caesar with great 
 difficulty gained the victory. 
 
 When Cleopatra perceived that Anton} T was following 
 her, she commanded her admiral to stop her galley until 
 Antony reached its side, when Antony was taken on 
 board. But so great was his mortification and remorse 
 that he would neither see her nor speak to her for three 
 days ; after which time she regained her old ascendancy, 
 and they returned to Alexandria, where the}* gave them- 
 selves up anew to pleasure and feasting, even though 
 they knew that Caesar was already pursuing them. 
 
 Cleopatra now formed a very extraordinary design. 
 She ordered that her ships, which were in the Mediterra- 
 nean Sea, should be carried over the isthmus into the 
 Red Sea ; and she then determined to take all her treas- 
 ures, and escape beyond the reach of Caesar. But the 
 Arabians having burned several of her ships, she aban- 
 doned the plan. She now resolved to be treacherous to 
 Antony, and to gain the favor of Caesar. Though she 
 
CLEOPATRA. 87 
 
 loved Antony to madness, her ambition was stronger 
 than her love. She thereupon persuaded Antony to send 
 ambassadors to Caesar to sue for peace ; and with them 
 she sent officers of her own, who were bribed to treat 
 separately with Caesar on her behalf. Octavius Caesar 
 gave her reason to hope, if she would sacrifice Antony to 
 him. 
 
 Now followed a time of vacillating love and ambition, 
 despair and dissimulation. To dispel Antony's suspi- 
 cions she increased her caressing attentions, and spent 
 her time in providing the most extravagant banquets and 
 amusements. 
 
 Meanwhile, with a presentiment of her impending 
 doom, she made special studies of all sorts of poisons, 
 to discern, if possible, which would occasion the most 
 speedy and painless death. She also experimented re- 
 garding the effects of the bites of the most poisonous 
 reptiles and insects, using for her victims animals or 
 condemned prisoners. At length she discovered that the 
 asp was the only one whose bite occasioned neither tor- 
 ture nor convulsions, the victim being speedily stupefied, 
 and dying in a seemingly painless sleep. 
 
 Antony and Cleopatra now formed a new compact, 
 called " Synapothanumenon," signifying the order and 
 agreement of those who will die together, in substitution 
 for their former order of existence, called " Amimeto- 
 bion," meaning " no life comparable." 
 
 News at length reached Alexandria that Caesar had 
 appeared before Pelusium, and that the city had fallen 
 into his hands. It is said that this capture was obtained 
 through the treachery of Cleopatra, who sent secret word 
 to her governor there to surrender the place. Then, to 
 clear herself from the rumors of this treason, she put the 
 
88 CLEOPATRA. 
 
 wife and children of the governor into Antony's hands 
 that he might revenge himself by putting them to death. 
 Thus had vice and ambition robbed this Egyptian queen 
 of all the charms of innocence and womanly tenderness, 
 until she had become almost fiend-like in her cruelty and 
 selfishness. Thus can the spirit of selfish ambition be- 
 come a serpent in the heart, poisoning all its nobler 
 aspirations. The beautiful, fascinating Cleopatra was 
 fast becoming as great a monster of crime as her atro- 
 cious ancestors. 
 
 Adjoining the temple of Isis, Cleopatra had caused a 
 magnificent tomb to be built for herself, and thither she 
 ordered all her most precious treasures to be brought. 
 She there stored her gold, silver, jewels, ebony, ivory, 
 and a large quantity of costly perfumes and aromatic 
 woods. She also sent to this mausoleum an immense 
 quantity of flax, tow, torches, and other combustibles, 
 which she ordered stored in the lower apartments of the 
 tomb, that they might be in readiness should she deter- 
 mine to destroy herself and treasures by fire rather than 
 allow them to fall into the hands of her enemies. 
 
 Caesar, hearing of these preparations made by the 
 Egyptian queen, was fearful lest she might escape him, 
 with all her treasures, and constantly sent her messages 
 offering her promises of generous treatment when he 
 should reach Alexandria. 
 
 Antony, -knowing nothing of this double dealing, pre- 
 pared for a good defence. Caesar had now advanced to 
 the city, and encamped near the Hippodrome. Antony 
 made a vigorous sally ; and having severely repulsed 
 the enemy, he returned victorious to the city. But this 
 was the last effort of his expiring valor. On the morrow, 
 after spending the night at a magnificent banquet pro- 
 
CLEOPATRA. 89 
 
 vided by Cleopatra in honor of his recent success, An- 
 tony resolved to attack Caesar by sea and land. Having 
 drawn up his land force, he stood with them on an emi- 
 nence, watching the advance of his galleys, which were to 
 make the first attack. What was his horror and chagrin, 
 however, to behold Cleopatra's admiral strike his flag, and 
 go over with his entire fleet to the enemy. This treason 
 opened the eyes of Antony to the perfidy of the queen. 
 With one expiring impulse of warlike valor, he sent to 
 challenge Caesar to single combat. But Caesar sent an- 
 swer, that if Antony was weary of life, there were other 
 ways to die. Finding himself thus ridiculed by Caesar 
 and betrayed by Cleopatra, Antony rushed in wild rage to 
 the palace to avenge himself upon the perfidious woman 
 for whom he had bartered country and honor. Any ex- 
 cuse which we might have made for the actions of Cleo- 
 patra heretofore, on the plea that she was impelled by 
 her mad love for Antony, can no longer shield her 
 treachery and crime. It is poor Antony now who, in 
 spite of all his outrageous conduct, claims our sympathy. 
 He had bartered everything in life for the love of this 
 woman, only to find himself basely deserted by her in his 
 hour of greatest trouble. Her selfish ambition was para- 
 mount to her love, and overshadows her last days with 
 infamy. 
 
 Cleopatra, foreseeing that Antony would seek her in a 
 rage, upon discovering her treacher}', had retired into her 
 tomb, with two women attendants, and caused Antony to 
 be told that she had killed herself. No sooner had An- 
 tony heard this news than his hate was again conquered 
 by his love, and lamenting her death with sobs and tears, 
 he shut himself up in his palace, with one slave, named 
 Eros. He thereupon commanded Eros to plunge his dagger 
 
90 CLEOPATRA. 
 
 into his heart, as he no longer desired to live. But the 
 faithful slave, unwilling to obey this dreadful command, 
 took the dagger, but stabbed himself with it, and fell dead 
 at his master's feet. Antony then exclaimed, " Shall a 
 slave and a woman teach me how to die ! " and imme- 
 diately thrust his sword into his side, and fell bleeding to 
 the floor. 
 
 Just then an officer arrived, who had been sent by Cleo- 
 patra to inform him that she was not dead, as reported. 
 As soon as Antony heard the beloved name of Cleopatra, 
 he opened his dying eyes and begged to be taken to her, 
 that he might expire in her arms. Bleeding and dying, he 
 was carried to .her tomb. Even then Cleopatra's selfish 
 fear overcame her love, and she would not allow the 
 doors to be opened, lest her enemies might surprise her ; 
 but she appeared at a high window, from which she let 
 down ropes to draw him up. Antony was made fast to 
 the ropes by his attendants below, and then Cleopatra and 
 her two women, who were the only persons with her in the 
 tomb, endeavored to draw up the dying Antony. It was 
 a piteous sight. With his eyes even now glazed in death, 
 Antony cast an imploring look upon the face of the 
 woman whom he loved more than life or earthly honors. 
 The handsome face of the Eg}*ptian queen was distorted 
 by her grief and her severe efforts to draw up the bleed- 
 ing body of the dying Antony. When they had lifted 
 him within the window, Cleopatra laid him on a bed, and 
 bathed the blood from his face, caressing him with fond 
 kisses, and calling him endearing names. While she thus 
 wailed and mourned, she cut off his hair, according to an 
 Egyptian superstition that it afforded relief to the dying. 
 Antony, recovering consciousness for a few moments, 
 sought only to comfort her, telling her he died happy, as 
 he was in her arms. 
 
CLEOPATRA. 91 
 
 "And for thee, star-eyed Egyptian! 
 Glorious sorceress of the Nile, 
 Light the path to Stygian horrors 
 With the splendors of thy smile. 
 Give the Caesar crowns and arches, 
 Let his brow the laurel twine ; 
 I can scorn the Senate's triumphs, 
 Triumphing in love like thine. 
 Isis and Osiris guard thee ! 
 Cleopatra, Rome, farewell ! " 
 
 Caesar allowed Cleopatra to bury Antony with royal 
 honors ; and afterwards he went himself to pay her a 
 visit. He found Cleopatra overwhelmed with grief. She 
 had refused food, and endeavored to starve herself to 
 death ; but Caesar had sent her word that he would put 
 her children to death if she should harm herself, and so 
 she had reluctantly allowed herself to be ministered unto 
 by her physician. But she had bruised her face, arms, 
 and breast in her paroxysms of grief, and when Caesar 
 entered her apartment, he was shocked at her appearance. 
 Her hair was loose and disordered, her countenance wild 
 and haggard, and her arms and breast horribly disfigured 
 with wounds and bruises, while her former lustrous eyes 
 were red and swollen by excessive weeping. 
 
 At first, Cleopatra endeavored to vindicate her conduct ; 
 but finding that Caesar was not awed by her hitherto irre- 
 sistible power, she broke down completely, and with tears 
 and lamentations sought to appeal to his pity. Caesar 
 assured her that she would be treated with kindness and 
 generosity, and he left her, thinking that she desired to 
 live, and that his coming triumph would be graced by her 
 presence. 
 
 *' Octavins little knew the subtle intrigues of Cleopatra. 
 She had deluded him ; not he, her. The waning charms 
 
92 CLEOPATRA. 
 
 of Cleopatra, dimmed by grief and sorrow, might not ap- 
 peal to the sensuous side of Octavius's nature, but he was 
 not proof against the subtle and practised skill of her men- 
 tal abilities, by which she wielded the judgments of men 
 according to her will." 
 
 Cleopatra now determined to destroy herself, that she 
 might not have to endure the ignominy of serving as an 
 ornament to Caesar's triumphal celebrations when he re- 
 turned to Rome. Once before, Caesar had sent a mes- 
 senger to speak with her at the door of her tomb, while a 
 second officer placed a ladder against the wall and en- 
 tered her window, as he had been ordered to search her 
 apartment, lest she had some weapons concealed with 
 which she might harm herself. Whereupon, one of her 
 women cried out, "O unfortunate Cleopatra, you are 
 taken ! " Cleopatra, seeing the officers, drew a dagger 
 from her girdle, and was about to stab herself, but the 
 officer caught her arm and took from her the weapon, and 
 afterwards searched the room and shook her robes, lest 
 she should have concealed some other weapon or poison 
 with which she could destroy herself. A guard was then 
 set in her tomb, to watch her constantly. But with all 
 these precautions, Cleopatra outwitted them. She sent 
 to Caesar, and begged that he would allow her to go and 
 pay the last honors at the tomb of Antony and take her 
 final leave of him. 
 
 Caesar having granted this request, she went with her 
 women, bearing chaplets and wreaths of flowers, which 
 they placed upon the tomb amidst wailings and lamenta- 
 tions. When Cleopatra returned to her apartments after 
 this sad ceremony, she appeared more composed than 
 usual. After taking a bath, she arrayed herself with all 
 her queenly magnificence ; and having ordered a sumptu- 
 
CLEOPATRA. 93 
 
 ous repast, served with the customary splendor, she par- 
 took of it with seeming calmness. 
 
 Afterwards, ordering all attendants to retire from her 
 presence, with the exception of two trusty waiting- women, 
 she wrote a letter to Caesar, and then asked for a basket 
 of figs which a servant had just brought to her. 
 
 When the guards stopped him at the door, he displayed 
 the fruit, and declared that the queen desired them for her 
 dinner ; and thus they were allowed to be sent in. 
 
 After Cleopatra had examined the figs, she laid down 
 upon her couch, and soon after appeared to have fallen 
 asleep. The poison from the bite of the asp, which had 
 been carefully hidden amongst the figs, and which had 
 stung her upon the arm, which she held to it for that 
 purpose, immediately reached her heart, and killed her 
 almost instantly, and without seeming pain. 
 
 When Caesar received her letter, in which Cleopatra re- 
 quested that she might be buried by the side of Antony, 
 his suspicions were aroused, lest she contemplated killing 
 herself, and he sent officers quickly to her apartments. 
 But when they opened the doors, they found Cleopatra 
 lying dead upon her bed of gold, arrayed in all her royal 
 robes, and one of her women already lying dead at her feet. 
 
 The other attendant, named Charmian, was arranging 
 the diadem upon the brow of her beloved mistress, and 
 decking her form with flowers. 
 
 Seeing which, one of the soldiers exclaimed : 
 
 " Is that well done, Charmian? " 
 
 "Very well," she replied, " and meet for a princess 
 descended from so many noble kings.'* 
 
 As she spoke these words, she, too, fell dead at her 
 mistress's side. Both of these faithful slaves had proba- 
 bl}' poisoned themselves, also, that they might die with 
 their much-loved queen. 
 
94 CLEOPA TEA. 
 
 Cleopatra was buried in royal state by the side of 
 Antony, according to her request. 
 
 Caesar, deprived of her much-desired presence in his 
 triumphal procession, ordered a statue of gold to be 
 made of the famous Egyptian queen, which was carried 
 before his chariot in his after- triumphs. The arm of this 
 statue was adorned with a golden asp, signifying the sup- 
 posed cause of Cleopatra's death. 
 
 Cleopatra died at thirty-nine years of age, having 
 reigned twenty-two years. Caesar caused all the statues 
 of Antony to be thrown down ; but those of Cleopatra 
 were spared, as an officer who had been many years in 
 her service paid one thousand talents that they might 
 not be destroyed. 
 
 After Cleopatra's death Egypt was reduced to a prov- 
 ince of the Roman Empire. The reign of the Ptolemies 
 had continued two hundred and ninety-three years. 
 
 Caesario, the son of Cleopatra and Julius Caesar, was 
 put to death by Octavius Caesar ; but her younger chil- 
 dren were taken to Rome and treated with kindness. 
 
 Thus perished the famous Cleopatra, whose marvellous 
 attractions and enchanting fascinations of beauty and 
 unequalled display of pomp and royal magnificence make 
 parts of her story to read like the wonderful tales of the 
 Arabian Nights ; but whose selfish ambition, treachery, 
 and sins shrouded her last terrible end in the impenetra- 
 ble blackness of hopeless despair. 
 
ZENOBIA. 95 
 
 ZENOBIA. 
 
 A.D. 260. 
 " She had all the royal makings of a Queen." SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 T" IKE an enchanted island rising suddenly before the 
 -* ^ vision in mid-ocean, so did superb Palmyra of the 
 East burst upon the sight in the midst of an ocean of sands, 
 and cause the tired traveller, who had toiled painfully across 
 the weary wastes of the Syrian desert, to pause spell- 
 bound and enraptured before the picture of unrivalled 
 loveliness which suddenly met his gaze, as he looked 
 towards the high land and waving groves of palm-trees 
 which marked the site of the magnificent Palmyra, "the 
 Tadmor in the wilderness," said to have been founded by 
 Solomon as a resting-place for caravans in the midst of 
 the trackless desert. 
 
 Over sixteen hundred years ago this famous city flour- 
 ished, in the zenith of its gorgeous magnificence. Even 
 Rome paid homage to its power and beauty, and Roman 
 emperors thought it not beneath them to seek alliance 
 with the illustrious sovereign of this alluring realm. 
 
 Flanked by high hills on the east, the city filled the 
 entire plain below, as far as the eye could reach, both 
 north and south. Studded with groups of lofty palm- 
 trees shooting up among its temples and palaces of glis- 
 tening white marble, while magnificent structures of the 
 purest marble adorned the groves which surrounded the 
 city proper for miles in every direction, it appeared at 
 the same time all city and all country ; and from a little 
 
96 ZEN OBI A. 
 
 distance one could not determine the line which divided 
 country from city. 
 
 The prospect seemed to the beholder the fair Elysian 
 Fields, for it appeared almost too glorious for the mere 
 earth-born ; while from its midst the vast Temple of the 
 Sun stretched upwards its thousand columns of glistening 
 marble towards the heavens, which bent above them its 
 dazzlingly blue vault flooded with the golden effulgence 
 of the mid-day sun, or glowing with the rich tints of an 
 oriental sunset. 
 
 This renowned Temple of the Sun was a marvel of 
 man's architectural skill and genius. It was of dazzling 
 white, marble, and of Ionic design. Around the central 
 portion of the building rose slender pyramids, pointed 
 obelisks, domes of the most graceful proportions, col- 
 umns, arches, and lofty towers, innumerable in number, 
 and of matchless beauty. The genius of Greece had 
 contributed to the beauty of this Palm City of the desert, 
 for on every side it was adorned with Grecian art and 
 architecture. 
 
 Nor was the Temple of the Sun its only marvel. 
 About half a Roman mile from the temple was situated 
 the Long Portico. This building was devoted to pleasure 
 and trade. Amongst its interminable ranges of Corin- 
 thian columns the busy multitudes passed in ceaseless 
 processions, pursuing their various avocations or seek- 
 ing amusement. Here the merchants assembled, and ex- 
 hibited their rich stuffs gathered from all parts of the 
 known world. There, also, the mountebanks resorted, and 
 amused the crowds of idle rich with their fantastic tricks. 
 Strangers from all the known countries might have been 
 seen, attired in their varied and picturesque national cos- 
 tumes. A continuous throng of natives from all climes 
 
ZENOBIA. 97 
 
 passed to and fro, along the spacious corridors, between the 
 graceful, fluted columns surmounted by the rich entabla- 
 ture whereon were carved the achievements of Alexander. 
 
 Nor were these the only points of interest in this fasci- 
 nating city. The royal palace rose in the midst, so vast, 
 and with so many shining turrets and massive towers, 
 that it seemed a city within a city. 
 
 Palmyra was laid out in shady avenues of luxuriant 
 palm-trees, and adorned on either side with magnificent 
 structures of white marble, or of stone equal in dazzling 
 whiteness. Public gardens, groves, and woods stretched 
 beyond the limits of the city, far as the eye could reach ; 
 and amidst these cool and green retreats, elegant villas 
 of the rich and luxurious Palmyrenes were scattered so 
 thickly that Palmyra, the Beautiful, the Palm Grove, 
 seemed placed like a gem of matchless charms in the 
 red-gold setting of the desert sands. , 
 
 Along the roads leading to the city, elephants, camels, 
 and dromedaries laden with merchandise, or gorgeously 
 caparisoned, bearing some noted personage, in strange 
 and brilliant costume, added picturesque dashes of varied 
 color to the landscape. 
 
 Just without the walls of the city were the vast arches 
 of the aqueduct which supplied the inhabitants with a 
 river of purest water. 
 
 The streets presented a never-ending scene of varied 
 beauty. The buildings of marble ; the clean, paved streets ; 
 the frequent fountains of water throwing into the per- 
 fumed air hundreds of gleaming jets ; temples, palaces, 
 and gardens on every side, entranced the eye with their 
 alluring beauty. Arabian horses with jewelled housings, 
 and riders of noble rank ; then anon a troop of royal cav- 
 alry, with clashing arms and clanging trumpets ; with a 
 
98 ZENOBIA. 
 
 motley population of Palmyrenes, Persians, Parthians, 
 Arabians, Egyptians, Jews, and Romans, with their 
 varied costumes of glowing colors ; here mounted on a 
 camel ; there riding a stately elephant ; some seated in 
 chariots drawn by white Arabian steeds of peerless beauty, 
 caparisoned with gold and jewels if their owners belonged 
 to royal families, all these objects fascinated the gaze 
 of the bewildered stranger and riveted the attention of 
 the lover of artistic effects. 
 
 Such was beautiful Palmyra in the time of its famous 
 queen, Zenobia. And not less dazzlingly beautiful is the 
 fair queen herself, as she rides through the streets of her 
 royal city, where her adoring subjects flock to do her 
 homage. 
 
 See ! she is returning from one of her expeditions to 
 her distant provinces, and is just entering her loved 
 Palmyra. As soon- as the near approach of their queen 
 is made known to the people, the entire populace flock to 
 the walls to welcome her return. Troops of horse, va- 
 riously caparisoned, lead the queen's procession, followed 
 by a train of elephants and camels with gay trappings 
 and heavily loaded. Then come the body-guard of the 
 queen, clad- in complete armor of steel, surrounding the 
 ro3*al chariot, which is drawn by six snowy Arabian steeds 
 with gold-mounted harness and bearing waving plumes 
 upon their high-arched heads. As the mid-day sun shines 
 with effulgent splendor upon the scene, the flashing of 
 spears and corselets and burnished chariots and gilded 
 harness sparkle like diamond points. Seated with stately 
 grace in the royal chariot, behold Zenobia ! queen of this 
 resplendent realm and mistress of many kingdoms ! while 
 the air resounds with the acclamations of the vast multi- 
 tudes : " Long live the great Zenobia! The blessing of 
 
ZEN OB I A. 99 
 
 all the gods on our good queen, the mother of her 
 people ! " 
 
 Eight royal is the bearing of the beautiful Zenobia, 
 well fitted in mien and manner for her regal state. Im- 
 perial is her brow, and commanding are her dark, lustrous 
 eyes. But she is more than haughty queen ; she is a lov- 
 ing woman and a devoted mother, and she looks upon her 
 subjects with the same tender glance of sympathetic re- 
 gard that she casts upon the beautiful young princess 
 seated by her side. A helmet-crown rests upon her lux- 
 urious black hair, which is partly confined in braided locks 
 and partly floating in the breeze. A rich tunic of golden 
 tissue adorns her form, and a mantle of purple silk, 
 fringed with tassels of sparkling jewels and clasped with 
 a dazzling diamond whose value would purchase a prov- 
 ince, gracefully enshrouds her left shoulder, leaving her 
 right arm bared above the elbow, where the swelling curves 
 were clasped by shining circlets of glittering gems. Her 
 complexion is dark, though not swarthy, for the smooth 
 brunette skin gleams with ivory tints and deepens to crim- 
 son in her rounded cheeks, which time has not wrinkled, even 
 though she has been a matron for many years. When she 
 smiles in loving benediction on her adoring subjects, her red 
 lips part over teeth of dazzling whiteness, and her voice 
 thrills the listener with its rare cadences of melodious 
 tones. 
 
 The Palmyrenes were Egyptian in their origin and cus- 
 toms, Persian in their luxurious tastes, Grecian in their 
 language, literature, and architecture. Zenobia claimed 
 descent from the Macedonian kings of Egypt. She fully 
 equalled in beauty her famous ancestor, Cleopatra, and 
 far surpassed her in character and valor. Some accounts 
 state that she was the daughter of an Arab chief, Amrou, 
 
100 ZEN OB I A. 
 
 the son of Dharb, the son of Hassan ; though other writers 
 claim that Zeuobia was a Jewess. 
 
 She was possessed of rare intellectual powers ; was well 
 versed in Latin, Greek, Syriac, and the Egyptian lan- 
 guages. The celebrated Longinus was her instructor, 
 and the works of Homer and Plato were familiar to her, 
 and she wrote with ease in Greek. She compiled an 
 oriental history for her own use, and found constant 
 delight in the arts and. sciences when not engaged in the 
 severer pursuits of war. 
 
 Zenobia married Odenathus, a prince of great valor and 
 ambition, who was chief of several tribes of the Desert. 
 He rapidly made himself master of the East, and became 
 so powerful that the Romans made him their ally, giving 
 him the title of Augustus and General of the East. He 
 gained several victories, as the ally of Rome, over Sapor, 
 shah of Persia, and twice pursued his armies, even to the 
 gates of Ctesiphon or Ispahan, the Persian capital. 
 
 But in the midst of his victories Odenathus was assassi- 
 nated at Emsesa, while engaged in hunting. His murderer 
 was his nephew, Maeonius. Zenobia revenged the death 
 of her husband by destroying Mseonius, and as her three 
 sons were too young to rule, she first exercised supreme 
 power in their name, but later, declared herself queen of 
 the dominions of her husband, and assumed the royal dia- 
 dem, with the titles of Augusta and Queen of the East. 
 
 Zenobia was remarkable for her courage, prudence, and 
 fortitude, as well as for her intellectual gifts. No danger 
 unnerved her ; no fatigue dismayed her. 
 
 Her husband, Odenathus, had been a great lover of the 
 chase, and Zenobia always accompanied him upon these 
 expeditions. Disdaining a covered carriage, she rode on 
 horseback in military habit, and pursued with ardor the 
 
ZEN OBI A. 
 
 exercise of hunting, unterrified, though^the gam^ 
 lions, panthers, and other wild beasts of the desert. 
 
 The success of Odenathus in his various wars was in a 
 large measure to be attributed to the marvellous fore- 
 sight, fortitude, and prudence of Zenobia. 
 
 She did not appear to be possessed of those petty pas- 
 sions and weaknesses which female sovereigns have so 
 often displayed. She governed her realm with the most 
 judicious judgment and consummate policy. If it was 
 expedient to punish, she could calm her woman's heart 
 into manlike stoicism, and silence the promptings of pity. 
 If, on the other hand, it were justice to pardon, she could 
 quell within herself all signs of personal resentment, and 
 display a magnanimous forgiveness. 
 
 Though on state occasions she clothed herself and her 
 court with regal magnificence and lavished money with a 
 bountiful hand, apparently regardless of the cost, yet so 
 strict was her economy in all her governmental affairs that 
 she was sometimes accused of avarice. She spent im- 
 mense sums for the adornment of her beautiful Palmyra, 
 and gathered around her philosophers, poets, artists, and 
 the great and rich from many lands. 
 
 As a queen, she was adored by her subjects and admir- 
 ingly feared by rival sovereigns. As a woman, she was 
 peerless among her cotemporaries, and illustrious among 
 the women of all times. Possessed of striking and allur- 
 ing beauty, she yet won more admirers for the beauties 
 of her intellect, rather than for her bewitching face and 
 stately form. And her voice, like that of Cleopatra, so 
 charmed the ear by its delicious cadences, that the echo of 
 its melodious tones has been wafted down the ages. As a 
 wife and mother, Zenobia stands far above the dazzling 
 Cleopatra, though she is said to have modelled her war- 
 
i<)2 ZENOBIA. 
 
 Jiko 'exploits after that -renowned Egyptian enchantress of 
 the Nile ; but she did not emulate her wicked coquetries, 
 nor copy her weaknesses. 
 
 Arabia, Armenia, and Persia solicited her alliance, and 
 she added Egypt to the dominions of Odenathus. The 
 emperor of Rome, Gallienus, refused to acknowledge 
 Zenobia's claim to the sovereignty of her late husband's 
 dominions, and twice sent an army against her, but was 
 twice defeated by the valorous and undaunted Zenobia. 
 Her dominions extended from the Euphrates to the Med- 
 iterranean, and included Jerusalem, Antioch, Damascus, 
 and other cities famed in histor}'. Zenobia, however, 
 made the beautiful Palmyra her place of residence, mak- 
 ing expeditions to her other provinces. Her three sons, 
 Timolaus, Herennianus, and Vaballathus, were educated 
 with care ; and they were attired in the Roman purple of 
 the Caesars and brought up according to Roman manners. 
 The appointments of her palaces were gorgeously magnifi- 
 cent, and her style of living most regal ; she affected great 
 splendor in her attire, always appearing in royal state, 
 dazzling with jewels, unless at the head of her army or 
 riding in the chase, when she wore military habits, which, 
 however, sparkled with gems ; and though an apparent 
 amazon, she was a woman of dazzling beauty and most 
 fascinating presence, and always appeared before her 
 council of war in regal pomp, which secured her an hom- 
 age from her subjects and her soldiers which amounted 
 almost to a worship which partook of the veneration and 
 admiration accorded to a goddess. She was pure in her 
 manners to the utmost refinement of delicacy, and was as 
 much adored for her womanly virtues as she was admired 
 for her warlike valor. At length the fierce Aurelian 
 became emperor of Rome. He was highly indignant that 
 
ZEN OBI A. 103 
 
 a woman should dare to claim proud Rome as her ally, 
 and defy his power. Having subdued all his competitors 
 in the West, he turned his arms against this powerful 
 queen of the East, who dared to call herself Augusta and 
 clothe her sons in Roman royal purple. Proudly the 
 Roman emperor approached the dominions of the haughty 
 Zenobia. Rumor announced his coming, and the daunt- 
 less queen of Palmyra prepared to meet him. Neither 
 Roman legions nor Roman emperors made her brave 
 spirit quail or her woman's heart grow faint. 
 
 When the first Roman herald reached Palmyra to 
 announce the coming of the Roman ambassadors who had 
 been sent by Aurelian to demand her submission, Zenobia 
 was related to have been at her hunting-villa just without 
 the cit}*. It was in the forests lying to the north of this 
 summer palace that she pursued the wild boar, tiger, or 
 panther in the daring chase. As the messengers of 
 Aureliau arrived at the palace gates, the queen had just 
 returned from the hunt. Never did she look more regal. 
 She was mounted upon a white Arabian steed of peerless 
 beauty, caparisoned with harness gleaming with jewels. 
 Zenobia was leaning upon her long hunting-spear. She 
 wore upon her head a Parthian hunting-cap adorned with 
 a long white plume, fastened by a glittering diamond 
 worth a king's ransom ; her costume was also Parthian, 
 and was most perfectly adapted to display the exquisite 
 proportions of her graceful form. Her dark eyes were 
 flashing with scarcely less brilliancy than the diamond 
 which adorned her brow, as she sat her horse with regal 
 dignity, and her countenance betokened her dauntless 
 pride and warlike courage as the messengers of her 
 enemy were announced. Not waiting to dismount, she ex- 
 claimed with tones of imperial command, "Bid the ser- 
 vants of your emperor draw near, and we will hear them." 
 
104 ZENOBIA. 
 
 Announced by trumpets and followed by their train, 
 the ambassadors of Aurelian advanced to the spot where 
 Zenobia calmly awaited them, surrounded by her royal 
 attendants. 
 
 44 Speak your errand/' said the queen. 
 
 44 For a long series of years," replied the ambassador, 
 44 the wealth of Egypt and the East flowed into the Roman 
 treasury. That stream has been diverted to Palmyra. 
 Egypt, Syria, Bithynia, and Mesopotamia were depend- 
 ents upon Rome, as Roman provinces. The queen of 
 Palmyra was once but the queen of Palmyra ; she is now 
 queen of Egypt and of the East, Augusta of the Ro- 
 man Empire, her sons styled and arrayed as Caesars. 
 By whatever consent of former emperors these honors 
 have been won or permitted, it is not, we are required to 
 say, with the consent of Aurelian. While he honors the 
 greatness and genius of Zenobia, he holds essential to 
 his honor and the glory of the Roman world, that the 
 Roman Empire should again be restored to the limits 
 which bounded it in the reigns of the Arrtonines." 
 
 44 You have spoken," replied Zenobia to the ambassa- 
 dors, with a calm voice and steady glance, 44 with plain- 
 ness, as it became a Roman to do " ; and then her eye 
 flashed with proud disdain as she drew her stately form 
 up to still more lofty proportions, and she continued : 
 44 Now hear me, and as you hear, so report to him who 
 sent you. Tell Aurelian that what I am, I have made 
 myself ; that the empire which hails me queen has been 
 moulded into what it is by Odenathus and Zenobia ; it is 
 no gift, but an inheritance, a conquest, and a possession ; 
 it is held, not by favor, but by right of birth and power ; 
 and when he will give away possessions or provinces 
 which he claims as his, or Rome's, for the asking, I will 
 
ZEN OBI A. 105 
 
 give away Egypt and the Mediterranean coast. Tell him, 
 that as I have lived a queen, so, the gods helping, I will 
 die a queen ; that the last moment of my reign and my 
 life shall be the same. If he is ambitious, let him be told 
 that I am ambitious too ambitious of wider empire, of 
 an unsullied fame, and of my people's love. Tell him I 
 do not speak of gratitude on the part of Rome ; but that 
 posterity will say that the power which stood between 
 Rome and Persia, and saved the empire in the East, 
 which avenged the death of Valerian, and twice pursued 
 the Persian king, even to the gates of his own Ctesiphon, 
 deserved some fairer acknowledgment from an ally whom 
 its arms had thus befriended than the message you now 
 bring from your Roman emperor." 
 
 With proud dignity the ambassadors were then dis- 
 missed, and Zenobia prepared to defend her rights and 
 kingdom. Nor did she indolently permit the emperor of the 
 West to approach the gates of her fair Palmyra. With 
 brave rashness she went forth to meet him, and two great 
 battles were fought, one near Antioch, and the second 
 near Emsesa. In both these contests the brave Zenobia 
 herself led her troops to the onslaught, giving the second 
 place in command to her valiant warrior Zabdas, whose 
 great prowess in arms had hitherto made him a successful 
 general. But in both these battles Zenobia was defeated, 
 and she was forced to fall back within the gates of Pal- 
 m}-ra. Here she made a brave and last defence. And 
 again she boldly defied Aurelian from her towers, as she 
 had already defied him on the field of battle. So great 
 was her courage and so valiant her defence, that Aurelian 
 was obliged to admit her claims of being a most power- 
 ful and determined foe, and thus wrote of her: "Those 
 who speak with contempt of the war I am waging against 
 
106 ZEN OB I A. 
 
 a woman, are ignorant of both the character and power of 
 Zenobia. It is impossible to enumerate her warlike prep- 
 arations of stones, of arrows, and of every species of 
 missile weapons and military engines." 
 
 So doubtful was Aurelian of the result of the siege, 
 that he offered terms of an advantageous capitulation to 
 the brave queen of Palmyra ; but she indignantly rejected 
 his proposals in a famous Greek epistle, in which she de- 
 fied his power. Zenobia, expecting reinforcement from 
 her provinces, and thinking that Aurelian, being encamped 
 in a desert, could not long hold out, especially as he was 
 constantly harassed by bands of Arabs attacking his army 
 in the rear, felt confident that the siege would not be 
 prolonged. But Aurelian, incensed by her haughty letter, 
 roused himself to greater vigilance, cut off all her supplies 
 as the several companies of her allies approached, and 
 found means to subsist his army even in the desert. At 
 length the city could hold out no longer. Zenobia deter- 
 mined to fly, and endeavor to raise succor for her beloved 
 city in her surrounding provinces. Such, indeed, was the 
 reason assigned for this apparent cowardice on her part, 
 which was so contrary to her previous record of undaunted 
 bravery. Mounted on the fleetest of her dromedaries, she 
 succeeded in reaching the banks of the Euphrates, but 
 she was pursued and taken captive, and brought into the 
 presence of the Roman emperor. Aurelian sternly de- 
 manded how she dared thus defy the power of Rome. 
 Still every inch a queen, and yet not forgetting a wise 
 policy, she replied, " Because I disdained to acknowledge 
 as my masters such men as Aureolus and Gallienus. To 
 Aurelian I submit, as my conqueror and my sovereign." 
 
 While this conference was being held in the tent of the 
 Roman Emperor, the Roman soldiers came rushing in a 
 
ZEN OBI A. 107 
 
 riotous mass, demanding the instant death of Zenobia. 
 But notwithstanding her previous bravery and fortitude, 
 history records that, in this moment of terrible danger, 
 Zenobia did not display equal courage to the famous 
 Cleopatra, who resolved to die rather than submit to her 
 Roman conqueror. It is stated that Zenobia laid the 
 blame of her obstinate resistance upon the aged Longinus 
 and others of her chief counsellors, in order to save her 
 own life. Whether this were indeed the truth or not, the 
 facts are that the great philosopher Longinus, and other 
 chief men of Palmyra, were put to death by Aurelian, and 
 the life of Zenobia was saved. But for this seeming be- 
 trayal of her most faithful subjects, Zenobia may not have 
 been to blame ; for the desire to preserve the haughty 
 Queen of the East, in order that she might grace his coming 
 triumph in Rome, was a sufficient reason to account for 
 Aurelian's conduct in saving her life, and putting to death 
 her chief men, without it being necessary to ascribe to 
 such a brave and noble woman as Zenobia such ignoble 
 and cowardly actions. That she did not take her own 
 life like Cleopatra, but bore her reverses with calm dig- 
 nity, appears in these more enlightened days to be surely 
 more to her credit than to her dishonor ; and in the light 
 of modern civilization, the picture of the beautiful 
 Zenobia, walking with firm step and imperial bearing 
 among the captives of the Roman conqueror, excites deeper 
 feelings of admiration than Cleopatra, the suicide, lying 
 dead upon her royal bed of state. 
 
 Palmyra being conquered, Aurelian seized upon its vast 
 treasures, and leaving there a Roman garrison, he started 
 to return to Europe, carrying with him Zenobia and her 
 family. But having reached the Hellespont, tidings came 
 to him that the Palmy renes had revolted. Aurelian iimne- 
 
108 ZEN OBI A. 
 
 diately retraced his steps, and arriving before Palmyra, 
 he ruthlessl}" destroyed that beautiful city, sparing neither 
 old men, women, nor children, in his bloody work of total 
 destruction. The gorgeous buildings were soon smoking 
 heaps of ruins ; and though he afterwards repented of his 
 wild fury, and sought to rebuild in part a few of its 
 magnificent structures, it was too late. Palmyra became 
 desolate ; and until about a century ago, when some Eng- 
 lish travellers discovered its ruins, the very site where 
 once stood this beautiful Palm City of the Desert had 
 been completely forgotten. 
 
 Upon Aurelian's return to Rome, his triumph was cele- 
 brated with extraordinary gorgeousness and pomp. Vast 
 numbers of elephants, tigers, and other strange beasts 
 from the conquered countries presented a novel sight to 
 the wondering Romans. Sixteen hundred gladiators, who 
 were devoted to the cruel contests of the amphitheatre, 
 followed the line of strange beasts. Then appeared the 
 ensigns of the conquered nations, and the magnificent 
 plate, jewels, and royal robes of the Queen of the East 
 were displa}'ed in immense profusion. Ambassadors of 
 ^Ethiopia, Arabia, Persia, Bactriana, India, and China, 
 attired in their rich and striking national costumes, re- 
 vealed the extent of the Roman power. After these came 
 the long lines of captives, including Goths, Vandals, Sar- 
 matians, Alemanni, Franks, Gauls, Syrians, and Egyp- 
 tians. But every eye was riveted upon the famous Zeno- 
 bia, Queen of the East. Arrayed in her royal robes, and 
 covered with her blazing jewels, the weight of which was 
 so overpowering as to cause her almost to faint under the 
 burden, she walked before her own magnificent chariot, in 
 which she had hoped to enter Rome as a conquerer, rather 
 than thus walk a captive. Her arms were bound with 
 
ZEN OBI A, 109 
 
 fetters of gold, which were so heavy that slaves were 
 obliged to assist in supporting them on either side. But 
 though her delicate form was bent by the weight of her 
 galling fetters, gold though they were, her proud eyes 
 were undimmed by tears, and her queenly head was car- 
 ried with imperial grace. 
 
 There are two accounts of the after-fate of Zenobia. 
 Some writers state that she starved herself to death, re- 
 fusing to outlive her own downfall and the ruin of her 
 country. But according to other records, the Emperor 
 Aurelian bestowed upon her a magnificent villa at Tivoli, 
 where she resided in great honor, her daughters marrying 
 into noble Roman families, while her youngest son be- 
 came king of a part of Armenia. 
 
110 MATILDA OF FLANDERS. 
 
 MATILDA OF FLANDERS. 
 
 A.D. 1O31-1O83. 
 
 " The little work-tables of women's fingers are the playgrounds 
 of women's fancies, and their knitting-needles are fairy wands by 
 which they transform the whole room into a spirit isle of dreams." 
 RICHTEK. 
 
 MATILDA of Flanders deserves mention for three 
 reasons. First, because she was the wife of 
 William the Conqueror ; secondly, because she was the 
 first consort of the kings of England who was crowned 
 and who received the title of la reine. For, on account 
 of the crime of Edburga in poisoning her husband, Brih- 
 tric, king of Wessex, a law was made debarring the 
 consorts of Anglo-Saxon kings from sharing in the honors 
 of royalty. Previously to the time of William the Con- 
 queror, who chose to ignore this law, the wife of the king 
 had simply held the title of "The Lady, his Companion." 
 
 The third reason which has made Matilda of Flanders 
 worthy of mention is on account of the famous Bayetix 
 Tapestry, the work of her own royal fingers, which is still 
 preserved in the cathedral of Bayeux. 
 
 Cleopatra and Zenobia are illustrious for their warlike 
 valor and remarkable learning ; but Matilda of Flanders 
 has made famous the needle, rather than the sword ; and 
 with that little domestic instrument, the industrious fin- 
 gers of the first Norman queen, assisted by her attendant 
 ladies, gave to the world a very important historical 
 document, whereon was pictorially chronicled the famous 
 

 MATILDA OF FLANDERS. 
 
MATILDA OF FLANDERS. Ill 
 
 Norman conquest of England. And thus the sword of 
 the king and the needle of the queen have become indis- 
 solubly associated in the history of this momentous medi- 
 aeval event. 
 
 Matilda was directly descended from Alfred the Great. 
 She was the daughter of Baldwin V., count of Flanders. 
 Her mother was Adelais, daughter of Robert I., king of 
 France. 
 
 Matilda was born about the j'ear 1031, and was pos- 
 sessed of much grace of form, as well as an attractive 
 face. 
 
 In those days, skill in needle-work was held as the 
 highest accomplishment for ladies of rank, and the 
 remarkable skill in this handicraft, displaj'ed by the four 
 sisters of King Athelstan, is said to have secured for them 
 the addresses of the most eligible princes in Europe. 
 
 Matilda had several suitors, but she fixed her heart upon 
 a young Saxon noble named Brihtric, who on account of 
 the fairness of his complexion was called Meaw, meaning 
 "snow." He was the Lord of Gloucester, and was made 
 envoy at the court of Flanders by King Edward the Con- 
 fessor. 
 
 But he did not return Matilda's love, and he afterwards 
 married another ; this slight Matilda never forgot, and in 
 time she retaliated. 
 
 But Matilda, though ignored by the Saxon, was most 
 chivalrously loved by the bravest prince of all the courts 
 William of Normandy. This prince was the son of 
 Duke Robert, though his mother was of humble birth ; 
 but as his father had no other heirs, he declared this child 
 his lawful successor to the ducal throne, and then Duke 
 Robert departed upon his pilgrimage to the Holy Land, 
 from which he never returned. 
 
112 MATILDA OF FLANDERS. 
 
 "William was educated at the court of Henry I. of 
 France, where he remained until the Normans sent to 
 claim him as their duke. 
 
 At the time when William sought the hand of Matilda 
 of Flanders in marriage, he asserted that Edward of Eng- 
 land had named him his heir ; but some looked upon this 
 as an idle boast, and fair Matilda seems to have been so 
 little in love with her warlike cousin, that he sued for her 
 for seven years in vain. At last, determining to prove that 
 a "faint heart never won a fair lady," he resorted to a 
 most uncommon and hazardous mode of courting. 
 
 For seven long years he had wooed Matilda, who, 
 absorbed in her vain fancy for the indifferent Lord of 
 Gloucester, turned a deaf ear to brave William's glowing 
 ardor, until at length he was roused to desperate boldness. 
 
 One morning, as Matilda was returning from early mass 
 in the city of Bruges, she was suddenly confronted by the 
 unexpected appearance of Prince William, who, with glar- 
 ing eyes and lips quivering with intense passion, accused 
 her of loving Brihtric of Gloucester ; and as she disdained 
 to deny it he cried in bitter tones : 
 
 " Edward, England's king, has named me his heir, and 
 by the holy cross, the Saxon churl who dares aspire to thy 
 hand, shall ere long be crushed by the vengeance of our 
 royal resentment." 
 
 " Mighty words, easily spoken, and verily proof neither 
 of greatness nor of valor," replied the princess ; then, 
 laughing aloud in his face with disdainful manner, she 
 continued: "The doubtful Duke of Normandy, monarch 
 of England! truly, a most excellent joke! But why 
 does not my aspiring and politic cousin declare him- 
 self the future emperor of all Christendom ? " 
 
 Stung by her sarcastic words and the implied insult re* 
 
MATILDA OF FLANDERS. 113 
 
 garding his birth, Prince William was driven to a frenzy 
 of anger ; he seized Matilda, rolled her in a muddy pool 
 near by, and even struck her, in his wild fury, and leav- 
 ing her fainting upon the ground, he leaped upon his 
 charger, and galloped out of town. Strange wooing, 
 surely ! and yet after-events would seem to imply its effi- 
 cacy. Truly, none but a William the Conqueror would 
 ever again have dared to enter Matilda's presence. Ma- 
 tilda's father, incensed at the treatment his daughter had 
 received, made war upon William of Normandy ; but the 
 king of Flanders was so badly beaten in the contest that 
 he was glad to make terms of peace with his Norman con- 
 queror. As Brihtric, the Saxon lord, refused to marry 
 the princess of Flanders, Matilda's love turned to hate, 
 and she received the victor, William, when, with amazing 
 boldness, he renewed his suit, with every mark of cour- 
 teous forgiveness, and consented to accept him, declaring 
 " that she thought the duke must be a man of the highest 
 courage and most daring spirit, to come and beat her in 
 her father's city." " So faithful in love and so dauntless 
 in war," this brave knight won his bride ; and never was 
 wooing so fiercely bold, nor fair lady so strangely won. 
 King Baldwin V. of Flanders was only too ready to re- 
 ceive this brave knight as a son-in-law, and quickly con- 
 cluded the marriage contract, having already had sufficient 
 experience of the powerful sword of this fierce wooer. 
 Matilda and William were married at Chateau d'Eu, in 
 Normandy ; and her father gave her a rich dower, in 
 lands, money, jewels, and costly trousseau. William then 
 conducted his bride with much pomp to his duchy ; and 
 she made her public entry into Rouen in magnificent 
 array. The bridal mantles of William and Matilda, richly 
 adorned with jewels, were long preserved in the treasury 
 
114 MATILDA OF FLANDERS. 
 
 of Bayeux Cathedral. As William and Mary were cousins, 
 the Archbishop of Rouen declared that their marriage 
 was illegal, and excommunicated them. But the daunt- 
 less William was not to be terrified by any monkish bulls, 
 and appealed to the Pope, who nullified the sentence of 
 the archbishop, and sanctioned their marriage, on condi- 
 tion that they should each build an abbey at Caen, and 
 found a hospital for the blind. This they willingly agreed 
 to do ; and Matilda, who possessed much taste in archi- 
 tecture, took great delight in the erection of the stately 
 abbeys of St. Stephens and the Holy Trinity ; the former 
 was endowed by William, for the monks, and the latter by 
 Matilda, for the nuns. 
 
 Normandy enjoyed peace and prosperity under the wise 
 rule of William and Matilda, who were much beloved by 
 their subjects. Their children were remarkable for beauty 
 and promise, and were carefully educated under their 
 mother's supervision. 
 
 About this time, Harold, brother to Queen Edith of 
 England, was taken prisoner by the sovereign of Pon- 
 thieu ; and as a brother of Harold had married a sister of 
 Matilda, William compelled the Earl of Ponthieu to re- 
 lease Harold, and then he invited the Saxon prince to 
 Normandy, where he was betrothed to one of the young 
 daughters of William and Matilda, after which Harold 
 returned to England ; but no sooner had Edward, king of 
 England, breathed his last, than Harold seized upon the 
 sovereign power, notwithstanding he had made a promise 
 to William of Normandy to assist him in gaining his 
 rights as heir to King Edward. 
 
 William thereupon invested Matilda with the regency 
 of Normandy, and associated with her their eldest son, 
 Robert, and prepared to invade England, and assert his 
 claims as the successor of Edward the Confessor. 
 
MATILDA OF FLANDERS. 115 
 
 Unknown to her husband, Matilda had ordered a mag- 
 nificent ship of war to be built ; and when William arrived 
 at the port of St. Vallery, he found this splendid present 
 from his wife awaiting him, and gorgeously adorned in 
 his honor. This ship was called the Mora, and in it 
 William embarked at the head of his fleet. 
 
 The Norman fleet reached the port of Pevensey, on the 
 coast of Sussex, in safety ; but as Duke William was 
 landing, he fell headlong upon the ground. "An evil 
 sign is this ! " exclaimed the superstitious Normans in 
 affright. But the duke, rising with his hands full of 
 sand, cried : "I have seized England with my two hands, 
 and that which I have seized I will maintain." And most 
 truly did he fulfil this prophecy ; and by the bloody battle 
 of Hastings the proud realm of England became the 
 dominion of the Norman conqueror. 
 
 Matilda, the Duchess Regent of Normandy, received 
 the welcome news of her husband's victory while at wor- 
 ship in the Church of N6tre Dame, near St. Sever. She 
 thereupon ordered that the cathedral should henceforth 
 be called the " Church of Our Lady of Good Tidings." 
 
 William re-embarked for Normandy to rejoin Matilda, 
 in March, 1067 ; but scarcely had he arrived in his 
 dukedom, ere tidings reached him of a revolt in Eng- 
 land. He immediately returned, quelled the insurrection, 
 and then sent for Matilda and their children to join him 
 in England. 
 
 Matilda arrived in England with her family soon after 
 Easter. William now made preparations for her corona- 
 tion. As I have mentioned, former wives of the sov- 
 ereigns of England had not received this honor. But 
 William the Conqueror would allow no obstacles to defeat 
 his purposes. 
 
116 MATILDA OF FLANDERS. 
 
 Although William had already been crowned in West- 
 minster Abbey, he chose to be now re-crowned at Win- 
 chester, that Matilda might be made queen. 
 
 It was during the ceremony of Matilda's coronation 
 that the office of champion was first instituted. During 
 the banquet, a brave cavalier named Marmion, clad in 
 complete armor, rode into the hall and pronounced this 
 challenge : 
 
 " If any person denies that our sovereign lord, Wil- 
 liam, and his spouse, Matilda, are king and queen of 
 England, he is a false-hearted traitor and liar ; and I, as 
 a champion, do here challenge him to single combat." 
 
 This challenge was repeated three times, but no one 
 accepted it ; and henceforth Matilda was always ad- 
 dressed as la reine. 
 
 But Matilda had never forgiven the slight she had 
 received, as a girl, from the proud Lord of Gloucester ; 
 and no sooner had she become queen of England than 
 she determined to take an unworthy revenge, which ever 
 after tarnished her fame. 
 
 She obtained from King William the grant of all the 
 possessions of Brihtric Meaw, and caused that unfortu- 
 nate Saxon, whose only crime had been indifference to 
 her youthful charms, to be imprisoned in Winchester 
 Castle, where he died. She even deprived the city of 
 Gloucester of its charter, and brought ruin to its inhab- 
 itants, probably because they had dared bewail the fate 
 of their lord, her enemy. 
 
 Queen Matilda now commenced her famous Bayeux 
 Tapestiy, illustrating the conquest of England by Wil- 
 liam the Conqueror. In the cathedral of Bayeux, where 
 it is still preserved, it is called the " Tapestry of Queen 
 Matilda." 
 
MATILDA OF FLANDERS. 117 
 
 This remarkable piece of canvas is nineteen inches 
 wide and sixty-seven yards in length. Upon it are 
 worked in cross-stitch many hundreds of figures, of men, 
 horses, birds, trees, houses, castles, churches, ships, and 
 battle scenes. 
 
 A dwarf artist, named Turold, is supposed to have 
 made the designs for Queen Matilda, and he has cun- 
 ningly introduced his own effigies and name into the 
 work. 
 
 Matilda's table, while in England, was furnished at the 
 daily expense of forty shillings ; and twelvepence each 
 were allowed for the maintenance of her attendants. 
 She received from the city of London oil for her lamp, 
 wood for her hearth, and imports on goods landed at 
 Queenhithe. 
 
 At this time, also, the famous curfew bell was estab- 
 lished, which was the signal that all lights and fires must 
 be extinguished at eight o'clock in the evening. This 
 was an old Norman custom, but it occasioned great dis- 
 satisfaction among the English. 
 
 So frequent were the revolts among his English subjects, 
 that at length William thought best to send Matilda and 
 their children back to Normandy, where she resumed the 
 regency. She did not reside in England after this time. 
 
 Robert, the eldest son of William and Matilda, now 
 occasioned his parents much trouble. At last the quarrel 
 between father and son resulted in open war. 
 
 Matilda, whose excessive partiality for her eldest son 
 much offended her husband, supplied the rebellious Robert 
 with large sums of money ; and when means failed her, 
 she even parted with her plate and jewels to aid her 
 favorite child. William was in England when the news 
 reached him of the rebellion of Robert and the part Ma- 
 
118 MATILDA OF FLANDERS. 
 
 tilda was taking in the matter, and he immediately set 
 out for Normandy. Upon arriving there, and learning 
 the truth of these rumors, he met his wife with bitter re- 
 proaches. There was stern grandeur, not unmixed with 
 tender pity and love, in the harsh words which he ad- 
 dressed to Matilda, which were not entirely unmerited ; 
 and there was also a sublime depth of mother's love in 
 her reply. Fixing his eyes upon the queen, the Con- 
 queror exclaimed with trembling voice : 
 
 "The brightest jewel of my bosom hath pierced my 
 heart with the deadly dart of treachery. Behold, my 
 wife ! the treasure of my soul to whom I have con- 
 fided my wealth, my crown, my greatness, my all. She 
 hath supported my rebel son in perfidy, and aided him to 
 raise his sword against his own father." 
 
 " My lord ! " replied Matilda, " far be from me to do 
 you wrong. But when you spurn our firstborn and retain 
 from him his rights, you drive him to wretchedness and 
 distraction. Be not surprised if I feel a mother's tender- 
 ness for her child. Nay, so much do I love him, that for 
 his dear sake I would dare any danger, do any deed. 
 Ask me not to enjoy the pomp of royalty while he is 
 pining in want and misery ; as a loving husband, you 
 have no right to impose such insensibility on a mother." 
 
 Robert and his father met in battle at Archembraye ; 
 and in the contest Robert unhorsed his father, and, un- 
 conscious as to whom he had defeated, was about to 
 pierce him with his sword, when he recognized his foe, 
 and fell at his feet begging forgiveness, horrified at the 
 thought of how nearly he had committed the awful crime 
 of parricide. A reconciliation took place, and Robert ac- 
 companied William to England. 
 
 Matilda's last years were embittered by domestic troub- 
 
MATILDA OF FLANDERS. 119 
 
 les. She remained in Normandy. The death of her 
 daughter Constance and renewed quarrels between Rob- 
 ert and his father, added to her own failing health, quick- 
 ened her decline. She died at Caen, in November, 1083. 
 Her husband hastened from England when informed of 
 her danger, and arrived as she breathed her last. She 
 was interred in the Church of the Holy Trinity at Caen. 
 William the Conqueror survived her only four years, 
 when his death was occasioned by an accident during the 
 storming of the city of Nantes, when his horse stumbled 
 over some burning timber, and throwing the king vio- 
 lently forward in the saddle, he was so seriously injured 
 as to result in his death. William the Conqueror was 
 buried in the Church of St. Stephen at Caen. The por- 
 traits of William and Matilda were painted upon the walls 
 of St. Stephen's chapel. 
 
 William was remarkable for his great strength and im- 
 posing beauty. He was a head taller than all his subjects. 
 The face of Queen Matilda was beautiful and delicate. 
 Their two sons, William Rufus and Henry, reigned suc- 
 cessively over England. Robert died in prison. Their 
 fourth daughter, Adela, was the mother of King Stephen. 
 
 In 1562 the Calvinist soldiers broke open the tombs of 
 William and Matilda, hoping to find rich treasures ; but 
 finding nothing but a sapphire ring upon Matilda's finger, 
 they rudely threw the bones carelessly around. In 1642 
 these relics were collected, and their tombs restored, 
 though at the close of the last century the French Repub- 
 licans destroyed the monumental memorial of Matilda, 
 which had been there erected by her husband before his 
 death. Thus the needle-work of Queen Matilda has 
 proved to be a more lasting memorial of her fame than 
 he costly monument of marble erected to her memory. 
 
120 MARGARET OF ANJOU. 
 
 MARGARET OF ANJOU. 
 
 \ 
 
 A.D. 1429-1482. 
 
 " The red rose and the white are on his face, 
 The fatal colours of our striving houses." 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 ONE of the most momentous civil commotions in the 
 annals of English history was the famous War of 
 the Roses, which was waged for many years between the 
 Houses of Lancaster and York, during which sanguine 
 contests the plains of England were deluged with blood ; 
 eighty princes were slain, and the ancient nobility were 
 almost entirely annihilated. 
 
 With these exciting incidents the name of Margaret of 
 Anjou is indissolubly associated, and she stands forth 
 in history as one of the most important participants in 
 that great civil struggle, which may be thus briefly stated. 
 
 Henry VI., the reigning king of England, was the son 
 of John of Gaunt, a younger son of Edward the Third. 
 About this time, the Duke of York, who was descended 
 by his mother's side from Lionel, an older son of the same 
 Edward, aspired to the throne, and gathering to his 
 standard many powerful nobles, he sought to dethrone 
 King Henry. 
 
 The partisans of the House of York chose the white 
 rose for their badge, while the reigning House of Lan- 
 caster wore, as their emblem, the red rose. 
 
 Previously to this period, Henry, the king of England, 
 had wedded Margaret of Anjou. 
 
MARGARET OF ANJOU. 121 
 
 This princess was the youngest daughter of Rene", Duke 
 of Anjou. Her father was the son of Louis II., king of 
 Naples, Sicily, and Jerusalem, and also sovereign count of 
 Provence, Anjou, and Maine. 
 
 But though Duke Rene" was heir to so many kingdoms 
 at the time of his daughter's marriage, he was owner of 
 none ; and instead of providing her with a rich dower, 
 suitable to her rank, the marriage stipulations were very 
 peculiar. 
 
 Henry VI. of England was twenty-six years of age. 
 His country was impoverished by a thirty years' war. 
 Margaret was at this time living at Naples, of which 
 realm her father called himself king. Amongst the 
 princesses selected for the approval of the bachelor king of 
 England, none pleased King Henry so well as the beau- 
 tiful face of Margaret of Anjou, whose portrait had been 
 sent to him for his examination. So overtures were at 
 once made to the father of this lovely princess. 
 
 Rene* consented most readily to the marriage, on the 
 condition that the bride's wedding portion should be only 
 her own lovely charms and superior accomplishments, 
 which he declared, were worth more than all the riches of 
 the world. 
 
 But this was not all in this strange marriage agreement. 
 Rene* also demanded that Henry should restore to him 
 his patrimonial estates of Anjou and Maine, which had 
 been wrested from him. 
 
 Though Margaret's father possessed so many high- 
 sounding titles, he was in truth a royal pauper. He had 
 been driven out of Naples, England held Anjou and 
 Maine, and in order to pay his ransom to the Duke of 
 Burgundy, who had kept him a prisoner for six years, 
 Rene" had been obliged to mortgage his other dominions, 
 
122 MARGARET OF ANJOU. 
 
 so that now he possessed neither castle nor an acre of 
 ground he could call his own. 
 
 The Earl of Suffolk, who had been sent by King Henry 
 to make the marriage settlements, was alarmed to bring 
 back to his sovereign such an unheard-of demand from 
 the father of a portionless bride ; but as Ren6 would not 
 relent, Suffolk was forced to return to his king with this 
 strange proposal. 
 
 Although King Henry was almost as much poverty- 
 stricken as the lovely princess, her fair face so bewitched 
 him that he readily consented to take her, not only with- 
 out dower, but to relinquish for her the domains of Anjou 
 and Maine. 
 
 The Earl of Suffolk was sent back to wed the fair prin- 
 cess as proxy for Henry, and in St. Martin's church, at 
 Nanci, in -November, 1444, Margaret was married by 
 proxy, the bride being in her fifteenth year. 
 
 The ceremony was performed in the presence of her 
 aunt, Marie of Anjou, queen of France, and Charles VII. 
 The bride's father and mother were also present, and all 
 the leading nobles of the courts of France and Lorraine ; 
 the mother of the bride being Isabella, claimant of the 
 duchy of Lorraine. 
 
 At the nuptial tournaments and festivities, which lasted 
 for eight days, all the knights wore daisies on their hel- 
 mets ; and the bridemaids and other maidens of Lor- 
 raine were decked with wreaths and garlands of the same 
 flower, in honor of the bride's name, " Marguerite," sig- 
 nifying " the daisy." 
 
 During these wedding festivities, an enlivening incident 
 occurred. Yolante, the elder sister of Margaret, had for 
 a long time been betrothed to Ferry of Lorraine, the heir 
 of Duke Antony, the successful competitor for that duke- 
 
MARGARET OF ANJOU. 123 
 
 dom. For some reason Rene had delayed this marriage ; 
 and so, at this auspicious moment, the young prince ran 
 away with his fiancee and married her. Charles VII., 
 king of France, interceded for their pardon, which Kene 
 was only too willing to grant, as his apparent opposi- 
 tion had only been on account of lack of dower for his 
 daughter. 
 
 Margaret now started on her journey to England, to 
 meet King Henry, to whom she had been married by 
 proxy. She was attended by the Marquis of Suffolk, who 
 had been raised to that rank by King Henry, that he 
 might act as his proxy ; and Suffolk's wife, the Countess 
 of Shrewsbury, and many other noble ladies, accom- 
 panied the young bride on this momentous journey. 
 
 So poor was the fair little bride, and so poverty-stricken 
 was her royal husband, that she had set out with no 
 money and with little apparel ; and her royal lord could 
 not forward to her a farthing, until the Parliament, in 
 February, 1445, granted him the half of a fifteenth on all 
 movables. 
 
 A rough bridal voyage, indeed, was vouchsafed to this 
 young and beautiful bride. It was five months after her 
 marriage by proxy before she was married to Henry with 
 the usual ceremonies in Tichfield Abbey. Meantime, not 
 only had sea-sickness brought her to a hospital, but there 
 she was attacked by small-pox ere she had recovered 
 from the effects of her voyage. This terrible disease was 
 fortunately very light in her case, for her marriage took 
 place in little more than a week after she had recovered 
 from the short attack. 
 
 It is curious to note that the doctor's bill for attendance, 
 during the voyage and at the time of this sickness, was 
 only three pounds nine shillings and twopence ; and this 
 for attending the royal queen of England. 
 
124 MARGARET OF ANJOU. 
 
 Margaret's nuptials with Henry VI. were solemnized 
 April 22, 1445. The bridal ring, set with a ruby, was 
 made from the one with which Henry was consecrated at 
 the time of his coronation. The queen received a bridal 
 present of a lion. Her coronation took place May 30, 
 at Westminster Abbey. 
 
 But scarcely was the beautiful queen seated upon her 
 royal throne ere troubles gathered thick and fast about 
 her ; and she continued to be a victim to misfortune 
 during all the remainder of her life. 
 
 The Duke of Gloucester and the rich old Cardinal 
 Beaufort were rival statesmen of England. It had been 
 through Cardinal Beaufort, assisted by Suffolk, that 
 Henry had won the fair Margaret ; whereas the Duke of 
 Gloucester had proposed another alliance. For this rea- 
 son the power of the cardinal was now in the ascendant 
 at .court; and through Suffolk, who gradually obtained 
 uncontrolled authority, both in the council and in Par- 
 liament, the cardinal possessed immense power over the 
 crown. As the king and queen were still hampered by 
 their impoverished condition, the rich cardinal frequently 
 relieved the pressing needs of the royal pair, and thus 
 secured greater influence over them. 
 
 In 1447, the mysterious death of the Duke of Glouces- 
 ter occurred, and the enemies of Beaufort and the queen 
 asserted that he was murdered by their connivance. But 
 this unjust charge is apparently without the least founda- 
 tion, as records state that the duke died from illness, 
 probably apoplexy. 
 
 During the same year the aged Cardinal Beaufort died, 
 and the king and queen were left without his support, 
 and what was equally important, the aid of his well-filled 
 purse. 
 
MARGARET OF ANJOU. 125 
 
 King Henry now began to show symptoms of the fear- 
 ful brain malady which he had inherited from his grand- 
 father, Charles VI. Henry's ministry, headed by Suffolk, 
 was despised and hated. At this time the government 
 fell mostly into the hands of the young queen of eighteen, 
 who found herself obliged to rely upon Suffolk, who be- 
 came daily more distasteful to the English people. 
 
 In 1448 hostilities with France were renewed, and 
 Charles VII. reconquered Normandy. This was the same 
 king of France, whose coronation at Rheims was secured 
 to him through the brave efforts of the Maid of Orleans, 
 Joan d'Arc, whose romantic story has been so often 
 related. Declaring that she was called by the angel 
 St. Michael and the virgin saints to deliver her country 
 from the English, she led her troops to Orleans, carrying 
 a marvellous sword in her hand, which she said she had 
 been directed to bring from the shrine of St. Catherine ; 
 and she succeeded in delivering that city from the siege. 
 This victory prepared the way for the coronation of 
 Charles VII. ; but to his eternal disgrace, when this 
 brave maiden was afterwards captured by her enemies, 
 and tried as a witch, he did not make any effort to save 
 her, though to her he owed his crown ; and she was burnt 
 at the stake, in the market-place at Rouen. 
 
 The loss of Normandy gave great offence to the English, 
 who blamed Queen Margaret, derisively calling her the 
 " Frenchwoman " ; and the partisans of the Duke of York 
 attributed their losses to the misgovernment of the queen, 
 and declared that King Henry was more fit for a cloister 
 than a throne, in that he had seemingly deposed himself 
 by leaving his kingdom in the hands of a woman. 
 
 About this time Queen Margaret invested the Duke of 
 York with the government of Ireland. He left a strong 
 
126 MARGARET OF ANJOU. 
 
 party in England, who soon caused the Duke of Suffolk 
 to be impeached and arrested. In order to save his life, 
 the queen persuaded the king to banish Suffolk for five 
 years ; but the ship on which he embarked was captured 
 by his enemies, and he was beheaded after a mock trial. 
 
 We cannot mention all the contests in this War of the 
 Roses. An insurrection headed by Jack Cade, who 
 called himself Mortimer, arose in Kent. This rebellion 
 was quickly quelled by Henry VI. ; but new disasters fol- 
 lowed. The Duke of Somerset returned from France, 
 having been defeated in trying to maintain England's 
 power there. Every province in France, but Calais, was 
 now lost to the English, and for this misfortune the people 
 blamed the poor young queen. 
 
 Suddenly the Duke of York came back from Ireland, 
 impeached Somerset in Parliament, and he was sent to the 
 Tower. At this time the badges of the red and the white 
 rose were adopted by the partisans of York and Lancas- 
 ter. To add to the troubles in which the poor queen was 
 plunged, King Henry's malady became so great that it 
 could no longer be concealed, and just at this inauspicious 
 time the young Prince of Wales was born. York assumed 
 all the power of the government, and for more than a 
 year the king remained in total ignorance of all that was 
 passing around him, being in a continued state, of helpless 
 idiocy. When the prince was about fifteen months old, 
 his father recovered his reason, and his first recognition 
 of his wife and child is thus quaintly described: "On 
 Monday, at noon, the queen came to him, and brought 
 my lord prince with her. Then the king asked, l What 
 the prince's name was?' and the queen told him 'Ed- 
 ward ' ; and then he held up his hands and thanked God 
 thereof. And he said he never knew him till that time, 
 
MARGARET OF ANJOU. 127 
 
 nor wist what was said to him, nor wist where he had been 
 whilst he had been sick, till now. And he asked who 
 were the godfathers ; and the queen told him, and he was 
 well content." 
 
 Margaret took immediate measures to secure King 
 Henry's restoration to sovereign power. Though he was 
 still very weak, the queen caused him to be conveyed to 
 the House of Lords, where he dissolved the Parliament, 
 and restored Somerset to liberty. The Duke of York, 
 aided by Salisbury and Warwick, now raised an army, 
 and drew near to London. King Henry, who hated blood- 
 shed, sent word to the insurgents to ask why they had 
 armed themselves against him. The Duke of York re- 
 plied that he would not lay down arms unless the Duke 
 of Somerset was delivered up to justice. This the king 
 refused to do, sa}*ing " he would deliver up his crown as 
 soon as he would the Duke of Somerset." Whereupon 
 the Earl of Warwick commenced the attack. The battle 
 was short but bloody. Somerset was killed, and even 
 King Henry was himself wounded by an arrow in the 
 neck. But he would not stir from the scene until he was 
 left alone under his royal banner, when he proceeded very 
 coolly into a baker's shop near by, where the Duke of 
 York found him, and bending the knee before him in a 
 sort of mock reverence, bade him rejoice that the traitor 
 Somerset was slain. King Henry replied : " For mercy's 
 sake, stop the slaughter of my subjects ! " York then 
 took the wounded king by the hand, and led him first to 
 the shrine of St. Alban, and then to his own apartments. 
 The next day he conducted King Henry, with seeming 
 respect, to London ; but in reality the king was the pris- 
 oner of the Duke of York. Henry's distress of mind 
 brought on again his fits of insanity, and in this state he 
 
128 MARGARET OF ANJOU. 
 
 was forced to pardon York and make him Protector. The 
 Duke of York relinquished the care of the imbecile king 
 to Queen Margaret, on condition that she would retire 
 with the king and infant prince to Hertford Castle. 
 
 For two years Margaret remained in retirement ; but 
 in February, 1456, King Henry again recovered himself 
 sufficiently to enter Parliament and declare himself well 
 enough to resume his royal authority. Parliament allowed 
 his claim, and York was forced to retire. 
 
 Again the government was put in the hands of the 
 friends of the queen. Again the health of the king was 
 impaired, but Margaret took him to Coventry, which she 
 called her haven of safety, on account of the favor shown 
 her by the inhabitants there ; and at length, King Henry 
 having somewhat recovered, he went to London, and 
 there invited the Duke of York and all his partisans to a 
 pacification banquet and religious ceremony at St. Paul's 
 cathedral, in which procession it is said that every one 
 walked with an enemy, from the queen down, as Mar- 
 garet was accompanied by the Duke of York to the altar, 
 where all swore eternal amity. 
 
 This amity lasted a year, when an affray broke out 
 amongst the king's cooks and scullions, who soundly 
 whipped Warwick's men ; whereupon all parties flew to 
 arms, and the battle of Bloreheath, and other skirmishes, 
 were fought. 
 
 At this time the Yorkists were defeated, but again they 
 rallied and seized upon London. 
 
 The queen once more brought her sick husband to her 
 harbor of Coventry ; and, as he regained his strength, 
 she rallied round the banner of the Red Rose many of 
 the heirs of the valiant earls who had fallen at St. 
 Albans, and she induced the king to leave Coventry, and 
 
MARGARET OF ANJOU. 129 
 
 encamp with his army near Sandifford. The Lancas- 
 trians and the Yorkists met in battle, July 9, 1460, near 
 Northampton. In the conflict which lasted two hours, 
 ten thousand Englishmen were slain, and King Henry 
 was taken prisoner. 
 
 Queen Margaret was not herself in the battle, but was 
 stationed with the 3 T oung prince, Edward, her son, where 
 she could view the field and communicate with her gen- 
 erals. Perceiving the disastrous result of the contest, 
 Margaret fled with the young prince to a castle in North 
 Wales. 
 
 Meanwhile, the Duke of York had taken King Henry 
 to London as his prisoner, and there compelled him to 
 sign an order, commanding Queen Margaret and the 
 prince to return to London under penalty of high trea- 
 son ; and Henry was furthermore forced to acquiesce in 
 an arrangement that he should wear the crown for his 
 life, but that, upon his death, the Duke of York and his 
 heirs should succeed to the right of the throne. 
 
 But Margaret was not thus to be ordered by the haughty 
 Duke of York and his party against her royal will. When 
 she received this summons, she was in Scotland, seeking 
 aid from the Scotch king ; and her brave answer was to 
 march with a large army against York ; and she drove 
 him to his strong castle, where he intended to await the 
 coming of his son Edward, with reinforcements. But 
 Margaret surrounded his castle, and, by challenge and 
 taunts, urged him to come forth to battle. The Duke of 
 York, whose pride was at length stung by the defiant 
 taunts of a woman, gave her battle, and in the contest 
 he was killed. 
 
 One of the royalists afterwards cut off the head from 
 the corpse of the Duke of York, and brought this bloody 
 
130 MARGARET OF ANJOU. 
 
 trophy to Queen Margaret, who at first beheld it with 
 horror, and then laughingly said : "Put the traitor's head 
 on York gate, and take care that room be left for those 
 of the earls of March and Warwick, which, forsooth, 
 shall soon keep him compaii}-." 
 
 Queen Margaret now pushed on towards London, flushed 
 with her recent success, determined to rescue King Henry 
 from the power of the Yorkists. The Earl of Warwick 
 came out from the metropolis, bearing 'in his train the 
 royal prisoner, and met the forces of Queen Margaret on 
 the old battle-field of St. Albans. The Yorkists held the 
 town, but the royalists penetrated the streets, and a 
 hand-to-hand fight ensued. Warwick's Londoners were 
 no match for the brave Northmen who fought for Queen 
 Margaret, and the Yorkists were forced to fly, leaving 
 King Henry sitting in his tent. Here he was found by 
 Queen Margaret and Prince Edward, and his brave queen 
 and son embraced him with joy ; and King Henry 
 thereupon knighted the young Prince of Wales, and many 
 valiant Lancastrians, for their valor. But Margaret's 
 triumphs did not long continue. St. Albans was won, 
 but not London. 
 
 The victorious young warrior, Edward, Earl of March, 
 eldest son of the late Duke of York, who now bore his 
 father's title, having conquered the Lancastrians in other 
 contests while Margaret routed the Yorkists at St. 
 Albans, now entered London with all the pomp of a 
 triumphant king, and was received by the people with 
 acclamations of delight ; for Margaret had injudiciously 
 allowed her Northern men to plunder the English, and 
 had therefore incurred their hatred ; so that now she was 
 again forced to seek refuge in the North, while Edward 
 of York was proclaimed king, as Edward IV. In a short 
 
MARGARET OF ANJOU. 131 
 
 time an army of sixt} T thousand men was raised in behalf 
 of Margaret, and commanded by Henry Beaufort, who 
 was now Duke of Somerset, and another intrepid noble, 
 Lord Clifford, who had killed the youngest son of the 
 Duke of York, and cut off the head from the dead body 
 of the father, in the contest between the Lancastrians 
 and Yorkists, when the Duke of York had been slain. 
 By the advice of these nobles Margaret remained with 
 her husband and -son in the city of York ; while the army 
 of the Red Rose went forth to battle with the forces of 
 the White Rose, under the banner of the young Edward 
 of York. 
 
 The Lancastrians were defeated at Ferrybridge and 
 Towton, and Queen Margaret then fled with King Henry 
 and their son to Newcastle, and from thence to Alnwick 
 Castle. As the Yorkists still approached, she retreated 
 to Scotland. At length Margaret and her sou went to 
 France to seek aid from King Louis XI. Upon Mar- 
 garet's promising to offer Calais as security, King Louis 
 lent her twenty thousand crowns, and permitted Breze", of 
 Normandy, to follow her with two thousand men. 
 
 With this little army Margaret returned to Scotland and 
 rallied her Scotch adherents ; and bringing King Henry 
 into the field, who had previously been hiding at Harleck 
 Castle, the brave, undaunted queen conquered- the strong 
 fortresses of Bamborough, Alnwick, and Dunstanburgh. 
 
 But her triumph was of short duration. Somerset soon 
 after surrendered the castle of Bamborough to Warwick, 
 on condition that he should receive a pension from King 
 Edward ; Suffolk and Exeter also swore homage to the 
 throne of Edward. But notwithstanding these treacheries, 
 Margaret still courageously struggled, and at length suc- 
 ceeded in winning back Somerset and Exeter to the ban- 
 
132 MARGARET OF ANJOU. 
 
 ner of the Red Rose ; but Somerset was, after all, a poor 
 support, and in the contest which followed at Hexham. his 
 weak generalship caused a total rout of the Lancastrian 
 army. Margaret fled with the young prince to the Scot- 
 tish border, taking with her all the jewels and treasures 
 she could secure ; but these were all stolen from her by a 
 band of banditti who attacked her small company of 
 friends ; and while the ruffians, with drawn swords, were 
 fighting for the plunder, Margaret escaped with her son 
 alone in the dense forest : here night closed over them. 
 The} 7 had neither of them tasted food since early in the 
 day. To add to her distress, poor Margaret did not know 
 whether her husband was dead or alive, as they had fled 
 from Hexham in different directions. Every tree in that 
 dark forest seemed to the terrified queen's fancies an 
 armed foe, seeking the life of herself and child. Sud- 
 denly, as the moon broke through the obscuring clouds, she 
 perceived a gigantic man advancing towards her. For a 
 moment her heart stood still for very horror, but with the 
 danger came also courage ; and, filled with a sudden 
 inspiration of sublime action, she advanced with cairn 
 majesty to the outlaw, leading her son by the hand, and 
 with the manner of a queen whose right it was to com- 
 mand, and in tones thrilling with overpowering fervor, she 
 presented her child, saying : 
 
 " Here, my friend, save the son of your king ! to your 
 loyalty I intrust him. Take him, and conceal him from 
 those who seek his life. Give him refuge in thine own 
 hiding-place." 
 
 The appeal of the brave queen was not in vain. The 
 outlaw, who chanced to be a ruined Lancastrian, well 
 remembered his much-loved queen. Right royally this 
 knight of the forest received his honored guests ; raising 
 
MARGARET OF ANJOU. 133 
 
 the poor tired little prince in his strong arms, he led the 
 way to his hidden cave. Here the royal fugitives were 
 refreshed and waited upon by the wife of the Lancastrian 
 outlaw : this retreat has since been called ' ' Queen Marga- 
 ret's Cave." Here she was found three days after by 
 Breze and the Duke of Exeter and other friends ; and 
 learning from them that her husband was alive, she went 
 with them to Scotland ; then finding no safety there, sailed 
 for France. Storms drove her into the dominions and 
 power of her father's old foe, the Duke of Burgundy. 
 Although Margaret had declared in the days of her pros- 
 perity, that if she should ever get the Duke of Burgundy 
 into her power, she would make the " axe pass between his 
 head and shoulders," nevertheless this family foe showed 
 himself to be a true knight and worthy gentleman, for he 
 not only received her but gave her hospitality ; and 
 though he would not listen to her entreaties in ; behalf of 
 her husband, he gave her twelve thousand crowns, and 
 bestowed many favors upon her companions in distress, 
 and forwarded her in safety to her father's duchy of Bar. 
 Here for seven years Margaret, no longer a queen, except 
 in name, resided with her son, the prince, in her father's 
 dominions, who, on account of the ruinous contests in 
 which he and his son were engaged with Aragon, could 
 offer her only an asylum. Her father Rene" was little 
 fitted by nature for the severe and ferocious times in 
 which he lived. He was a poet, artist, and musician of 
 rare talent, and his chansons are still sung by his native 
 Provengals. At length, King Edward of England quar- 
 relled with the Earl of Warwick, one of the strongest 
 supporters of the "Yorkists ; and that nobleman came to 
 France with others of his adherents to seek the aid of 
 King Louis XI. 
 
134 MARGARET OF ANJOU. 
 
 Margaret was summoned to the French court, and it 
 was there arranged that she should pawn Calais to Louis 
 XI., and that her son Edward, who was now a youth, 
 should be married to the daughter of the Earl of War- 
 wick, the Lady Anne Nelville. Thus Warwick espoused 
 the cause of the Red Rose, and a new expedition was 
 prepared for the invasion of England. Warwick was at 
 first successful. King Edward fled ; Henry VI. was 
 released from his restraint in the Tower, where he had been 
 held as a royal prisoner; but having been treated with 
 kindness, and weary of conflict, he was not overjoyed at 
 his restoration. Margaret prepared to go to England 
 with her son, the Prince of Wales, and his young bride 
 Anne. But furious storms again overtook her, and ere 
 she landed at Weymouth, her fortune had again forsaken 
 her. When the dreadful news reached her of the death 
 of Warwick and recapture of King Henry, she fell in a 
 swoon, and upon regaining consciousness, refused for a 
 long time to be comforted. At length she was visited by 
 Lancastrian nobles, who persuaded her to again unfurl the 
 banner of the Red Rose. 
 
 At Tewkesbury the fatal battle was fought which laid 
 the Red Rose in the dust. Upon this battle-field the last 
 hope of the unfortunate queen perished forever. The 
 brave young Prince of Wales was taken prisoner ; and be- 
 ing brought into the presence of King Edward, the mon- 
 arch, impressed with the noble bearing of the youth, 
 inquired "how he durst so presumptuously enter his 
 realms, with banners displayed against him?" to which 
 the prince, with more courage than policy, boldly replied, 
 "To recover my father's crown and mine own inheritance." 
 Stung into sudden anger, King Edward struck the intrepid 
 prince in the face with his gauntlet, which was the signal 
 
MARGARET OF ANJOU. 135 
 
 for the cruel men around him to pierce his brave young 
 heart with their sharp daggers. The following day Queen 
 Margaret was brought a prisoner to King Edward, by her 
 old enemy, Sir William Stanley, who had just revealed 
 the terrible fate of her son to the anguished mother, with 
 brutal coldness and abruptness. Smarting under this 
 awful blow, Margaret invoked terrible maledictions upon 
 the head of King Edward ; and this same enemy took very 
 good care to repeat these rash words which had escaped 
 the agonized heart of the distracted mother to his royal 
 master, who was- so exasperated that he at first determined 
 to put her to death ; but as no Plantagenet had shed the 
 blood of woman, he feared to do this bloody deed, and 
 ordered her to be imprisoned in the Tower of London. 
 The same night upon which Margaret of Anjou was placed 
 within its gloomy walls, her husband, whom she had not 
 met for seven long years, was dragged from his cell in the 
 same prison and put to death. At first the imprisonment 
 of Margaret was very rigorous ; but through the interces- 
 sion of King Edward's wife, Elizabeth of Woodville, who 
 had been one of the ladies in waiting at Queen Margaret's 
 court, the poor heart-broken sufferer was released from such 
 strict confinement ; and at length her impoverished father 
 came to her partial relief, and by sacrificing his inheri- 
 tance of Provence, he succeeded in securing her release 
 from imprisonment, she having signed a formal renuncia- 
 tion of all the rights her marriage in England had given 
 her. 
 
 But this poor faded Red Rose had one more trial to 
 bear. A dry leprosy now attacked the once beautiful 
 Margaret of Anjou, and transformed the lovely "Mar- 
 guerite," whose beauty had been celebrated throughout 
 the world, into a loathsome spectacle of horror. For 
 
136 MARGARET OF ANJOU. 
 
 nearly six years she endured a living death in the castles 
 provided by her father for her retreat, until, in 1482, the 
 welcome summons came. She was buried in the cathe- 
 dral of Angers, and her only memorial was her portrait on 
 glass in a window of the cathedral, which had been painted 
 by her father twenty years before. Maria Louisa, the 
 second wife of Napoleon I., possessed the breviary once 
 owned by Margaret of Aujou : in it was written, " Vanite 
 des vanites, tout la vanite ! " Surely a fitting epitaph for 
 the once beautiful, powerful, lovely Margaret of Anjou, 
 queen of England ; but alas ! afterwards, the fallen, 
 faded, hapless Red Rose of English history. 
 
 Among the warm partisans of the Lancastrian cause, 
 was John Grey, afterwards Lord Ferrers, whose wife 
 was the beautiful Elizabeth Woodville, maid of honor at 
 the court of Queen Margaret. 
 
 Lord Ferrers lost his life in the War of the Roses ; and 
 his widow, the beautiful Lady Grey, afterwards married 
 Edward, son of the renowned Duke of York, the cham- 
 pion of the White Rose. 
 
 By this marriage of the Roses, which occurred after 
 Edward had become king of England, as Edward IV., 
 this famous War of the Roses ended in a match of hearts. 
 
CATHARINE OF ARAGON, 137 
 
 CATHARINE OF ARAGON. 
 
 A.D. 1485-1536. 
 
 " By my troth, 
 I would not be a queen ! 
 Verily, 
 
 I swear, 'tis better to be lowly born, 
 And range with humble livers in content, 
 Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief, 
 And wear a golden sorrow. " SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 T3EAUTIFUL Granada rose like an enchanted city in 
 -L^ the midst of the blooming plain, where flourished 
 the citron and the pomegranate, the latter of which gave 
 to the city its euphonious name. Olive groves and vine- 
 yards clustered around it and fig-trees hung heavy with 
 their purplish fruit ; while orange and lemon groves bent 
 'neath the rich burden of golden spheres of luscious nec- 
 tar, intermingled with the snowy blossoms which, half 
 hidden amongst the dark green foliage, filled the air with 
 such exquisite perfume as to make one dream of the am- 
 brosial fields of Paradise. To the north, towered moun- 
 tains whose lofty, snow-crowned summits seemed to pierce 
 the blue heavens above, and other ranges guarded it on 
 the east and south, while the blue waters of the Mediter- 
 ranean washed its western shores, and brought trade and 
 commerce to this fair Eden of sunny Spain. 
 
 And as picturesque as was this lovely setting, equally 
 picturesque was the quaint and fascinating city, with its 
 gorgeous Alhambra, whose shining turrets loomed high 
 above the surrounding buildings and its spacious courts, 
 
138 CATHARINE OF ARAGON. 
 
 adorned by graceful columns and spanned by arched ceil- 
 ings glowing with varied colors and ornate with quaint 
 design, while through its many corridors Moorish cava- 
 liers and dark-eyed beauties, attired in their picturesque 
 costumes, passed in a fascinating procession and lent the 
 charm of life to this weird scene. 
 
 But war had invaded this fair realm. For long years it 
 had been besieged by hostile hosts, who strove to drive the 
 Moors from their enchanting dominions. Already the 
 city of Santa Fe" had arisen, as though by magic, around 
 the besieged city of Granada, and Ferdinand and Isabella 
 of Spain at length entered the gorgeous Alhambra as 
 conquerors, and the last sigh of the departing Moors 
 echoed amid the fragrant orange groves, in a ghostly wail 
 of hopeless despair. 
 
 It was on the 6th of January, 1492, that Isabella and 
 Ferdinand made their triumphal entry into the conquered 
 city, and the standard of the Cross and the banner of 
 Castile were seen floating together on the lofty watch- 
 tower of the glorious palace of the Alhambra. Upon this 
 momentous occasion, the little Catharine of Aragon, then 
 seven years of age, accompanied her parents and sister in 
 the imposing procession. 
 
 This pretty Spanish princess had first opened her eyes 
 upon this world at the small town called Alcala des He- 
 nares, while Isabella, her mother, was journeying to spend 
 Christmas at Toledo, then the capital of Spain. 
 
 Her infant days were spent in camps of war, for the 
 illustrious Isabella accompanied her husband Ferdinand 
 upon all his expeditions, and by her presence and counsel 
 inspired the Christian soldiers to those deeds of valor 
 which gained the victory over the Moors. 
 
 It was this same Isabella of Castile, who first instituted 
 
QUEEN CATHARINE. 
 
*t c ' 
 
CATHARINE OF ARAGON. 139 
 
 regular military surgeons, to attend the sick in the armies 
 and be at hand on the field of battle to care for the 
 wounded. These surgeons were paid out of her own rev- 
 enues ; and she also provided spacious tents, furnished 
 with beds and all things requisite for the sick and 
 wounded, which were called the "Queen's Hospital." 
 
 Thus, to the compassionate heart of the famous Isa- 
 Della of Castile, the world is indebted for the first army 
 Hospital, which institution has since proved such a bless- 
 ing to mankind, in the saving of innumerable lives, and in 
 some slight measure alleviating a part of the frightful 
 evils of war. 
 
 After the fall of Granada, Ferdinand and Isabella took 
 up their residence in the magnificent Alhambra, and it was 
 in this fascinating place that the childhood of Catharine of 
 Aragon was passed. 
 
 It was from -Granada, this fairy -land of her youthful 
 memories, that Catharine derived her device of the pome- 
 granate. The pomegranate was the royal insignia of the 
 Moorish kings. "The motto afterwards adopted by Queen 
 Catharine, " Not for my crown, " was also derived from the 
 same source ; for the crown of the pomegranate is worth- 
 less and is always thrown away. 
 
 What strange contrast in the two pictures portrayed in 
 the life of Catharine by the unforeseen vicissitudes of for- 
 tune. The blooming maiden, filled with ecstatic pleasure 
 by the alluring fascinations of the matchless scenes around 
 her, now wandering with childish curiosit}* through the 
 glowing courts of the glorious Alhambra, or enjoj'ing the 
 sylvan retreats amidst the orange and citron groves, or 
 seeking the cool shade of the pomegranate trees, presents 
 a very different picture to the neglected queen of England, 
 cruelly banished by her atrocious husband, to die in lone- 
 liness and even penury. 
 
140 CATHARINE OF ARAGON, 
 
 When the Princess Catharine was nine years of age, she 
 was betrothed to Arthur, Prince of Wales, eldest son of 
 Elizabeth of York and Henry VII. 
 
 The correspondence of these youthful lovers was carried 
 on in Latin, that they might improve themselves in that 
 language. 
 
 In 1501, Catharine embarked with her Spanish govern- 
 ess and four young court ladies, attended by a train of 
 lords and ecclesiastics, to go to England to be united in 
 marriage to Prince Arthur. The marriage was celebrated 
 Nov. 14, 1501. 
 
 Catharine's bridal costume was a great surprise to the 
 English ladies. The Spanish princess and her ladies had 
 previously astonished the English populace, when, accord- 
 ing to an English fashion, they made their equestrian 
 public entry into London. The large round hats worn by 
 Catharine and her donnas upon that occasion had created 
 much comment. 
 
 " At her bridal Catharine wore upon her head a coif of 
 white silk, with a scarf bordered with gold and pearls 
 and precious stones, five inches and a half broad, which 
 veiled the greater part of her visage and her person. 
 This was the celebrated Spanish mantilla. Her gown was 
 very large ; both the sleeves and also the body had many 
 plaits, and beneath the waist certain round hoops, bear- 
 ing out the gown from the waist downward. Such was 
 the first arrival of the farthingale in England, revived at 
 times as hoop petticoats and crinolines. In the elaborate 
 pageantry the princely pair were very prettily allegorized, 
 she as ' My Lady Hesperus, ' and he as ' The Star Arc- 
 turus,' from which the Celtic name of Arthur is derived." 
 
 The old chronicles thus describe the gorgeous marriage 
 ceremony : 
 
CATHARINE OF ARAGON. 141 
 
 " Within the church of St. Paul's was erected a plat- 
 form or stage, six feet high, and extending from the west 
 door to the uppermost step of the choir ; in the middle of 
 this platform was a high stand like a mountain, which was 
 ascended on every side with steps covered over with red 
 worsted. 
 
 " Against this mountain on the north side was ordained 
 a standing for the king and his friends ; and upon the 
 south side was erected another standing, which was occu- 
 pied by the Lord Mayor and Aldermen of London. 
 
 "Then, upon the fourteenth of November, being Sun- 
 day, Prince Arthur and the Infanta Catharine, both clad 
 in white satin, ascended the mountain, one on the north 
 and the other on the south side, and were there married by 
 the Archbishop of Canterbury, assisted by nineteen bish- 
 ops and abbots. The king and the queen and the king's 
 mother stood in the place aforenamed, where they heard 
 and beheld the solemnization, which, being finished, the 
 archbishop and bishops took their way from the mountain 
 across the platform, which was covered under foot with 
 blue ray cloth, into the choir, and so to the high altar. 
 The prelates were followed by the bride and bridegroom. 
 The Princess Cecily bore the train of the bride, and after 
 her followed one hundred ladies and gentlewomen in 
 right costly apparel. Then the Mayor, in a gown of crim- 
 son velvet, and his brethren in scarlet, went and sat in the 
 choir whilst mass was said. The Archbishop of York sat 
 in the dean's place and made the chief offering, and after 
 him came the Duke of Buckingham. The mass being 
 finished, Arthur publicly dowered his bride, at the church 
 door, with one-third of his income as Prince of Wales ; 
 and afterwards the prince and princess were conducted in 
 grand procession out of church into the bishop's palace, 
 
142 CATHARINE OF ARAGON. 
 
 where a grand feast was prepared, to which the Lord 
 Mayor and Aldermen were invited. 
 
 u The city functionaries were served with plate valued 
 at one thousand two hundred pounds, but the plate off 
 which the princess dined was of solid gold, ornamented 
 with pearls and precious stones, and worth twenty thousand 
 pounds. 
 
 " It was wonderful to behold the costly apparel and the 
 massive chains of gold worn on that day. Sir Thomas 
 Brandon, the master of the king's horse, wore a gold 
 chain, valued at one thousand four hundred pounds. 
 Rivers, the master of the king's hawks, wore a chain 
 worth one thousand pounds, and many of the other chains 
 worn were worth from two to three hundred pounds each. 
 The Duke of Buckingham wore a robe of the most beauti- 
 ful needle-work, wrought upon cloth of gold tissue and 
 furred with sable, worth one thousand five hundred 
 pounds ; and Sir Nicholas Vaux wore a gown of purple 
 velvet, so thickly ornamented with pieces of massive gold 
 that the gold alone, independent of the silk and fur, was 
 worth one thousand pounds." 
 
 In honor of this marriage, tournaments, and festivals, 
 and most gorgeous pageants, followed by banquets and 
 grand balls, were celebrated for many days. 
 
 But clouds soon gathered around Catharine. In about 
 four months after the marriage, while Prince Arthur and 
 Catharine were residing at the Castle of Ludlow, in Wales, 
 the young prince sickened and died ; and the poor young 
 princess was left a widow in a strange land. Catharine 
 was now escorted back to London, where she was received 
 with kindness by Queen Elizabeth, her mother-in-law. 
 But the kind queen died in two years and Catharine's 
 troubles began regarding her great dower. Her father, 
 
CATHARINE OF ARAGON. 143 
 
 Ferdinand of Spain, had promised to give as a marriage 
 settlement two hundred thousand crowns. Only one in- 
 stalment of this had been paid, and until the whole amount 
 was received, Henry VII. refused to allow his daughter-in- 
 law the revenue Arthur had given her as her marriage gift. 
 
 And now began intrigues and quarrels over this poor 
 little widow of sixteen. First King Henry VII. determined 
 to marry her himself, but this proposal Catharine would 
 not accept. Next it was proposed to marry her to the 
 king's son Henry, now become Prince of Wales. As this 
 proposition was not refused by Ferdinand and Isabella of 
 Spain, the helpless young stranger was obliged to submit, 
 and as her father would not pay her dower until the mat- 
 ter was settled, and as her father-in-law would not allow 
 her the revenue from her late }'oung husband, the poor 
 little princess was reduced to great extremities. She 
 needed clothes, she had no means of paying her servants, 
 and neither king seemed to have pity upon her. Her 
 mother, Isabella of Spain, sympathized deeply with the 
 sorrows of her child, but she was now dying and could do 
 little to help her. 
 
 At length it was decided that Catharine, now nineteen 
 years of age, should be betrothed to Henry, who was then 
 fourteen. But before this marriage was consummated, 
 Isabella of Spain had breathed her last. Well for her 
 mother-heart that she did not know the terrible trials in 
 store for her beloved child, consequent upon this unfortu- 
 nate marriage ! 
 
 The death of King Henry VII. in 1509, prevented all 
 display upon the occasion of this second marriage of Cath- 
 arine of Aragon, which occurred at Greenwich Palace, 
 June 11, 1509, just three months after the death of 
 Henry VII. From various records it is evident that 
 
144 CATHARINE OF ARAGON. 
 
 Henry VIII. loved his wife Catharine quite devotedly at 
 this time. In his letter to his bride's father he wrote, 
 " that if Catharine and he were still free, he would choose 
 her for his wife before all other women." 
 
 The long-disputed marriage portion was now paid by 
 Ferdinand of Spain, and Queen Catharine, in writing 
 to him, tells of her joy in a't last being able to pay 
 her ladies their salaries which had been so long due. In 
 1510, a prince was born, but he lived but a few days, 
 much to the sorrow of King Henry and Queen Catharine. 
 Another baby prince also died before the birth of the 
 Princess Mary, in 1516. 
 
 "The reign of Henry VIII. is characterized by three 
 great movements, which have all left a profound impres- 
 sion upon the destinies of England : the religious reform ; 
 the establishment of the absolute power of the crown in 
 principle and often in practice ; the social and even polit- 
 ical progress of the nation, notwithstanding great outbursts 
 of tyranny on the part of the government, and of servility 
 on the part of the people. The history of this reign is 
 naturally divided into two periods : Henry VIII. under 
 the influence of Wolsey, his favorite and soon his prime 
 minister ; Henry VIII. alone, after the disgrace and death 
 of Wolsey." 
 
 Of course, regarding this political aspect of this epoch 
 in history, we can make little or no mention in this short 
 sketch of Catharine of Aragon. 
 
 "Wolsey, "the Ipswich butcher's son, the politician 
 priest," became the chief favorite of Henry and Catha- 
 rine, although, after he had been the means of securing 
 the execution of the queen's friend, Buckingham, Catha- 
 rine was opposed to him. 
 
 We must not pass over the meeting of the French and 
 
HENRY VIII. 
 
 After the painting by Hans Holbein in the possession of 
 
 His Majesty, the King of England, 
 
 at Windsor Castle. 
 
CATHARINE OF ARAGON. 145 
 
 English sovereigns upon the famous "Field of the Cloth 
 of Gold." This occurred in 1520, at Ardres, a small 
 town near Calais. A very magnificently decorated palace 
 had been prepared for the English king. It was built of 
 wood, and adorned with gigantic figures, representing 
 savages armed with spears and arrows, bearing Henry's 
 device, " Cut adhaereo praestat" (He whom I support 
 prevails) . 
 
 Fountains of red and white wine played constantly 
 before this sumptuous abode of the English king, which 
 was adorned with costly tapestries and magnificent gold 
 and silver plate. 
 
 A gorgeous tent of cloth of gold had been prepared 
 for the meeting of the two sovereigns. It was orna- 
 mented with blue velvet studded with stars, fastened 
 with silken cords mixed with Cyprian gold. Into this 
 glistening pavilion the two kings walked arm in arm ; 
 and thereupon began a round of feasting, drinking, music, 
 dancing, and amusements, which lasted a fortnight. The 
 extravagant splendor of this occasion has become re- 
 nowned ; and, in the midst of all these licentious rev- 
 elries, Cardinal Wolsey celebrated high mass with im- 
 posing pageantry. It is recorded that it took years 
 for the estates of many a nobleman to recover from the 
 loans contracted to make a good appearance upon this 
 famous Field of the Cloth of Gold. 
 
 In 1521 Henry VIII. determined to defend the Catho- 
 lic faith against the attacks of Martin Luther. King 
 Henry had no other weapon to use against the monk 
 xcept his pen. Whereupon Henry published "A Defence 
 of the Seven Sacraments against Martin Luther." This 
 was gorgeously bound, and presented with much ceremony 
 to Pope Leo X. Thereupon the royal author received 
 
146 CATHARINE OF ARAGON. 
 
 the title, from the holy father, of "Defender of the 
 Faith," of which title the royal hypocrite made strange 
 use afterwards. Meanwhile, the haughty Cardinal Wol- 
 sey became more arrogant and overbearing. Having the 
 royal ear, even princes and nobles fawned upon him in 
 menial attentions, and high titled lords served the pomp- 
 ous cardinal on their knees, and deemed it a privilege 
 to do his august bidding. But Wolsey's fall was soon to 
 come, and would be as direful as his power was now 
 ascendant. 
 
 In 1522 the beautiful Anne Boleyn was recalled from 
 France to England, and became one of Queen Catharine's 
 maids of honor. From this time troubles fell thick and 
 heavy upon the poor queen, who was herself a faithful 
 wife and loving mother, and was, moreover, self-denying 
 and devout. And, strange as it may appear, up to this 
 time, such had been the life of King Henry and Queen 
 Catharine that they had become famous as a pattern 
 couple ; and the celebrated Erasmus had said of them : 
 "What household is there, among the subjects of their 
 realms, that can offer an example of such united wed- 
 lock? Where can a wife be found better matched with 
 the best of husbands ? " 
 
 We can hardly imagine the atrocious Henry VIII. ever 
 to have been worthy of such commendation. After being 
 married for seventeen years to his devoted Catharine, 
 this prince of hypocrites is all at once troubled with most 
 grievous qualms of conscience. For seven years he had 
 been flirting with the pretty Anne Boleyn ; even from the 
 momentous time when he had noticed her dancing at the 
 festivals attending the celebrated occasion of the Field of 
 the Cloth of Gold. But not until 1527 did this conscience- 
 troubled king declare publicly his very serious doubts as 
 
CATHARINE OF ARAGON. 147 
 
 to the validity of his marriage with Catharine, who had 
 been previously married to his elder brother Arthur. 
 His pretended scruples were now confided to Cardinal 
 Wolsey, who advised the king to sue for a divorce. 
 This welcome advice the royal hypocrite most sancti- 
 moniously declared to be most bitter for him to follow, 
 but nevertheless, for his conscience' sake, he was ready to 
 make this enormous sacrifice. 
 
 The famous divorce court at Blackfriars was not held 
 until June 18, 1529. But the conscience-stricken, atro- 
 cious dissembler meanwhile used his utmost influence in 
 church and state to force priests and people to confirm 
 his royal pretended scruples ; and earls, bishops, cardinals, 
 and popes, were called upon to confirm and applaud his 
 most holy zeal, in thus sacrificing his supposed heart's 
 ease for the ease of his terribly burdened conscience. 
 Meanwhile, the poor, neglected, faithful wife was openly 
 and shamelessly discarded for the smiles of the new 
 beauty, who had ensnared the fancy of this most atro- 
 cious of religious humbugs. 
 
 To allay somewhat the fretful anxieties consequent 
 upon the long delay required to bring right-minded men 
 to second his infamous designs, the royal author found 
 solace in his literary occupations, hurling anathemas 
 against the undaunted Luther, ostensibly in defence of 
 that Church whose Pope he wished to influence in favor 
 of his own guilty schemes ; but soon this apparently 
 zealous defender of the Romish Church was uncloaked, 
 and he defied even the Pope himself, who dared to 
 denounce his infamous divorce. 
 
 We cannot give in detail these stirring but disgraceful 
 scenes. Poor Catharine, a stranger in a strange land, 
 having lost both father and mother, had none to defend 
 
148 CATHARINE OF ARAGON. 
 
 her against the calumnies which her inhuman husband 
 sought to fasten upon her, but which her blameless life 
 rendered utterly harmless. 
 
 King Henry VIII. had taken very good care to make 
 very specious excuses for the divorce. As six children 
 had been born and none had lived beyond infancy, 
 except the Princess Mary, he declared that he found 
 proof of the wrath of God in these bereavements, because 
 he had married his brother's widow. And this prince of 
 dissemblers declared in a great meeting of his nobles, 
 councillors, and judges, whom he had assembled in the 
 great chamber of his palace at Bridewell, that, "As 
 touching the queen, if it be adjudged by the law of God 
 that she is my law ul wife, there was never anything 
 more acceptable to me in my life, both for the discharge 
 of my conscience and also for her sake.; for I assure 
 you all that, apart from her noble parentage, she is a 
 woman of great virtue, gentleness, and humility. Of all 
 good qualities appertaining to nobilit}', she is without 
 comparison ; and if I were to marry again, presuming 
 the marriage to be good, I would choose her before all 
 oiher women." And yet this same ostentatious pattern 
 of perfection and hypocritical religiom cant afterwards 
 beheaded the illustrious Sir Thomas More, because he 
 would not sanction the infamous repudiation of the faith- 
 ful Catharine. And this sam pr ten^d Defender of 
 the Church, even though the Pope was hu ling from the 
 Vatican his spiritual thunders of excommunication for 
 the sin of renouncing the devoted and blamv, ess Queen 
 Catharine, defiantly married Anne Boleyn, even before 
 the divorce had been fully consummated. 
 
 In 1529 Queen Catharine was summoned into court 
 to meet her public sentence. When the crier called, 
 
CATHARINE OF ARAGON. 149 
 
 " Henry, king of England, come into court," he an- 
 swered from his royal seat of state, in loud tones, 
 "Here," and thereupon proceeded to make known his 
 many troubles regarding his tender conscience and relig- 
 ious scruples, which so sore distressed his royal mind; 
 ending in a panegyric upon the many virtues of his 
 beloved wife, Catharine, from whom none other cause 
 than his afflicted conscience would ever have forced him 
 to consent to part. 
 
 After this arch-traitor to all domestic faithfulness had 
 thus relieved his burdened heart, the crier summoned, 
 "Catharine, queen of England." Taking no notice of 
 the surrounding legates, the sorrowful queen rose with 
 graceful dignity, and, followed by her ladies, she went 
 round about the court, even to where the king sat, and 
 kneeling at his feet she thus pathetically addressed him, 
 with quaint foreign accent and persuasive voice : " Sir, I 
 beseech you, for the love of God, let me have some 
 justice. Take some pity on me, a poor stranger in your 
 dominions ; I have no counsellor in this laud, and, as you 
 are the head of justice in your realm, I flee to you. 
 Alas ! I take God to witness that for these twenty years 
 I have been to you a true, humble, and obedient wife. 
 And if our children have died, it has not been for the 
 want of a mother's love or care. The king, your father, 
 was accounted a second Solomon for wisdom, and my 
 father, Ferdinand, was deemed one of the wisest kings 
 of Spain; and they had counsellors as wise as those of 
 these days, and they all, verily, thought our marriage 
 good and lawful. Therefore I marvel greatly at the 
 inventions now brought against me. If you have found 
 any dishonor in my conduct, then am I content to depart ; 
 but if none there be, then I beseech you thus humbly to 
 let me remain in my proper state." 
 
150 CATHARINE OF ARAGON. 
 
 The queen then rose up in tears, and making a low 
 obeisance to the king, she walked out of court; nor 
 would she return, even though the crier'again called her 
 name. Nor would she ever more attend these evil coun- 
 cils, but waited in patient silence the coming of her dread 
 doom. Nor did she display any enmity to the boastful 
 Anne Boleyn, who did most indecently declare her grow- 
 ing power over the fickle fancies of the cruel king. Save 
 only on one occasion, did Queen Catharine give to her 
 intimation that she was aware of her ambitious views. 
 The q^een was once playing cards with Anne Boleyn, 
 when she thus addressed her : " My lady Anne, you have 
 the good hap ever to stop at a king ; but you are like 
 others, you will have all or none." 
 
 At length, as Queen Catharine would not again appear 
 in court, although several times summoned b} 7 the loud 
 voice of the crier, King Henry, in ' is rage, sent Car- 
 dinal Wolsey and others to the queen, to have a private 
 interview with her. Catharine was engaged with her 
 ladies in needlework at the time, to while away her 
 tedious hours, for the cruel king had removed the Prin- 
 cess Mary from her mother, nor would any tears avail the 
 lonely, neglected wife, though she wrote most tender 
 letters to the king begging him to let her beh Id her child 
 As the prelates entered the apartment where Qu en Cath- 
 arine and her ladies were occupied with their embroidery, 
 the queen rose to meet them, having a skein of white silk 
 around her neck, and apologizing for the manner of their 
 unceremonious reception. " You see," said Catharine, 
 pointing to the kein of silk, "our humble employment 
 with my maids ; and yet, save these, I have no other 
 counsellors in England, and those in Spain on whom I 
 could rely are far away." 
 
CATHARINE OF ARAGON. 151 
 
 " If it please your Grace," replied Wolsey, " we would 
 speak with you alone." 
 
 " My lord," answered the queen, with a proud inno- 
 cence, " if you have anything to say, speak it openly 
 before these folk ; I would all the world should see and 
 hear it." 
 
 Whereupon Wolsey began to address her in Latin, in 
 which language she was well skilled ; but she said hum- 
 bly : "Pray, my good lord, speak to me in English, for 
 I can, thank God, understand English, though I do know 
 some Latin." 
 
 The queen then led the cardinals into her withdrawing- 
 room, and it is recorded of this conference, that she did 
 so set forth her cause that they would not henceforth 
 decide against her. 
 
 But chafing at the long pontifical delays, King Henry 
 determined to take the matter into his own hands. He 
 had used every device to induce the queen to consent 
 to the divorce ; and had by bribes and threats obtained 
 from most of the universities of Europe opinions that the 
 marriage was illegal. 
 
 King Henry then sent a message to Queen Catharine, 
 who was at that time residing at Greenwich Palace, 
 entreating her, for the quieting of his conscience, that she 
 would refer the matter to arbitration. Catharine replied : 
 " God grant my husband a quiet conscience ; but I mean 
 to abide by no decision excepting that of Rome." 
 
 This answer so enraged the king that he took the queen 
 to Windsor Castle, and then himself departing on some 
 excuse, he sent authoritative commands to her that she 
 should leave forever the royal palace. 
 
 "He is my husband, and it is my duty to obey him," 
 said the injured and faithful wife; "but though I go 
 
252 CATHARINE OF ARAGON. 
 
 hence at his bidding, I am his wife, and for him will 1 
 pray." 
 
 King Henry had previously endeavored to have Catha- 
 rine persuaded to enter a convent ; and in view of such 
 an event, his sensitive conscience had required him to 
 apply to the ablest canonists in Rome to give him their 
 opinions on the three following questions : 1. Whether, if 
 a wife were to enter a convent, the Pope could not, in the 
 plenitude of his power, authorize the husband to marry 
 again. 2. Whether, if the husband were to enter a reli- 
 gious order that he might induce his wife to do the same, 
 he might not be afterwards released from his vow and at 
 liberty to marry. 3. Whether, for reasons of state, the 
 Pope could not license a king to have, like the ancient 
 patriarchs, two wives, of whom one only should be 
 acknowledged and enjoy the honors of royalty. Rather 
 convincing proofs, truly, that the compunctions of con- 
 science of this royal hypocrite were a hollow sham ! 
 
 After her expulsion from her husband's court, Catha- 
 rine first went to her manor of the More, in Hertford- 
 shire ; and then settled at Ampthill, from whence she 
 wrote to Pope Clement, informing him of her banishment 
 from the royal court. As the Pope would not sanction 
 the divorce, but instead issued a bull of excommunication 
 against the royal rebel, the king, in 1533, dissolved his 
 own wedlock by a decision pronounced in a court held by 
 Archbishop Cranmer. Some historians state that he had 
 married Anne Boleyn previously to the time when the 
 divorce was pronounced. 
 
 When the news of this double insult reached poor Cath- 
 arine, she was lying upon a sick-bed, worn out with sorrow. 
 In vain had she pleaded to be allowed to see her only 
 child, the Princess Mary, for one last farewell. And now 
 
CATHARINE OF ARAGON. 153 
 
 her agonized mother's heart is wrung with added woe. 
 Lord Mont joy, her former page, was deputed to bear to 
 her the minutes of the infamous conference, by whose 
 decision she was degraded from the rank of queen of Eng- 
 land to that of dowager-princess of Wales. 
 
 Rising from her couch and seizing her pen, she drew 
 it through the words "princess-dowager," and exclaimed 
 to those who had brought to her this insulting document : 
 " So I return the minutes ; and I desire ye to say to his 
 Grace, my husband, Catharine, his faithful consort, is his 
 lawful queen ; and for no earthly consideration will she 
 consent to be called out of her name." 
 
 Catharine afterwards removed to the Bishop of Lincoln's 
 palace of Bungen. By the king's orders, she was deprived 
 of most of her servants, because she would be waited on 
 by no one who did not address her as queen. She was 
 next removed to Kimbolton Castle, though Henry's first 
 orders had been to take her to Fotheringay Castle, a 
 place notorious for its bad air. But Catharine had de- 
 clared that she would not go there " unless drawn with 
 ropes," and so she had been sent to Kimbolton. 
 
 King Henry also withheld her income, due from her 
 jointure as Arthur's widow ; and notwithstanding the 
 noble portion which she had brought as her dower, she 
 was allowed to suffer for the very necessaries of life, and 
 even a new gown was obtained on trust, as her will shows. 
 When one of her servants, in a rage at her inhuman treat- 
 ment, execrated the perfidious Anne, Catharine gently 
 chided her, saying : " Hold, hold ! curse her not, for in a 
 short time you will have good reason to pity her ! " 
 
 As death rapidly approached the heart-broken Catha- 
 rine, she welcomed the summons as a joyful release from 
 her earthly unutterable woe. A few days before she 
 
154 CATHARINE OF A R AGON. 
 
 expired, she dictated the following touching words to the 
 base husband who had so atrociously wronged her. 
 
 "My Lord and Dear Husband: I commend me unto 
 you. The hour of my death draweth fast on, and my case 
 being such, the tender love I owe you forceth me with a 
 few words, to put you in remembrance of the health and 
 safeguard of your soul, which you ought to prefer before 
 all worldly matters, and before the care and tendering of 
 your own body, for which you have cast me into many 
 miseries and yourself into many cares. For my part I do 
 pardon you all, yea, I do wish and devoutly pray God 
 that He will also pardon you. For the rest I commend 
 unto you Mary, our daughter, beseeching you to be a 
 good father unto her, as I heretofore desired. I entreat 
 you also on behalf of my maids, to give them marriage 
 portions which is not much, they being but three. For 
 all my other servants I solicit a year's pay more than 
 their due, lest they should be unprovided for. Lastly do 
 I vow that mine eyes desire you above all things." 
 
 Catharine of Aragon breathed her last Jan. 7, 1536. 
 Although it was said that King Henry shed tears over her 
 last pathetic letter, which he received a short time before 
 her death, yet it is also stated that he sent his lawyer to 
 endeavor to seize upon her little property and try to 
 escape paying her trifling legacies and debts. 
 
 On the day of her burial, King Henry wore mourning, 
 but Anne Boleyn clothed herself and all her ladies in 
 yellow, exclaiming, "Now am I queen! I am grieved, 
 not that she is dead, but for the vaunting of the good end 
 she made." 
 
 Neither King Henry's arrogant power nor Anne Boleyn's 
 pernicious influence could prevent the widespread and 
 lasting effect of the Christian death-bed of Catharine. At 
 
CATHARINE OF ARAGON. 155 
 
 length some dared to suggest to King Henry, " that it 
 would become his greatness to rear a stately monument to 
 her memory," whereupon the beautiful abbey-church of 
 Peterborough, where her remains were placed, was spared 
 from destruction at the period of the suppression of the 
 monasteries, and was endowed and established as the see 
 of Peterborough. 
 
 The life of the woman who had supplanted her was 
 short and full of sorrow. Three years only elapsed after 
 Henry had married Anne Boleyn, and only four months 
 after Catharine had sent him her dying forgiveness, when 
 her exulting rival met her awful doom. 
 
 Already had King Henry cast his e} T es upon Jane Sey- 
 mour, and on the 15th of May, 1536, the sentence upon 
 the queen was pronounced. Wolsey, who had suggested 
 and aided the divorce of Catharine, had fallen under the 
 disfavor of Anne, and through her influence he was over- 
 thrown and died in disgrace. And now Anne herself was 
 to suffer the penalty of her wicked ambition. On the 19th 
 of May, 1536, Anne Boleyn was led out upon Tower 
 Green, and a blow from the executioner ended her event- 
 ful, but brief life. 
 
 "It is done ! " cried the inhuman Henry, as he heard 
 the cannon which was the signal that the tragedy was 
 over ; " that is an end of the matter. Unleash the dogs, 
 and let us follow the stag." 
 
 Thus ended the life of Anne Boleyn, and on the next 
 day King Henry VIII. was married to his third wife, Jane 
 Seymour. 
 
156 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND MARY, QUEEN 
 OF SCOTS. 
 
 A.D. 1533-16O3. 
 
 " A crown 
 
 Golden in show, is but a wreath of thorns, 
 Brings dangers, troubles, cares, and sleepless nights 
 To him who wears the regal diadem." MILTON. 
 
 " One speaks the glory of the British Queen, 
 And one describes a charming Indian screen ; 
 A third interprets motions, looks, and eyes ; 
 At every word a reputation dies." POPE. 
 
 THE lives of Queen Elizabeth, and Mary, Queen of 
 Scots, are so intimately associated, that a sketch of 
 one includes that of the other ; and in order to give the 
 history of that epoch with greater conciseness and clear- 
 ness without unnecessary repetition, a brief outline of 
 each of their lives is here sketched. 
 
 For the sake of perspicuity, a few lines will be given to 
 intervening events. 
 
 As we stated in the account of Catharine of Aragon, 
 Henry VIII. married Jane Seymour upon the day follow- 
 ing the execution of Anne Boleyn. Fortu lately for Jane 
 Seymour, death removed her during the succeeding year, 
 rather than the fatal axe of her royal husband. She lef 
 an infant prince, who afterwards reigned a few short years 
 as Edward VI. 
 
 In 1540 Henry VIII. married his fourth wife, Anne of 
 Cleves. She had been represented as a great beauty by 
 
QUEEN ELIZABETH 
 
 Painting by Frd. Zucchero, "so-called Ermine portrait.'' 
 
 in the possession of the Marquis of Salisbury 
 
 Hatfield House. 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 157 
 
 Cromwell, whom the king had raised to power. This 
 Cromwell was a former servant of Cardinal Wolsey. But 
 so great was Henry's disgust upon beholding the awkward, 
 ill-dressed, ill-featured, German princess, whom he had 
 been inveigled into making his fourth bride, that though 
 the marriage was perforce celebrated according to agree- 
 ment, the unfortunate Cromwell was soon after disgraced 
 and executed, and the sensitive conscience of the royal 
 hypocrite was once again called into requisition to annul 
 this ill-starred union. The beautiful face of Lady Catha- 
 rine Howard no doubt quickened the stings of the con- 
 veniently tender conscience of this dissembling King of 
 Knaves, who declared with pious cant that, having ascer- 
 tained that Anne of Cleves had previously been betrothed 
 to the Duke of Lorraine, his punctilious scruples would 
 not allow him to retain her as his wife ; whereupon King 
 Henry, who waited not now for pope or bishop to annul 
 his marriage vows and break his conjugal fetters, be- 
 stowed upon his divorced wife the title of "Adopted 
 Sister," which honor poor Anne of Cleves consented to 
 receive, doubtless thanking heaven for having preserved 
 her from the more terrible fate of some of the wives of 
 this fickle consort. 
 
 By way of celebrating his fifth nuptials, King Henry 
 sent to the stake Dr. Barnes and other heretics, while 
 certain Catholics were quartered for having refused to 
 take the oath of supremacy. This persecution of both 
 parties occasioned the indignation of both Catholics and 
 Protestants. "How do folks manage to live here?" ex- 
 claimed a Frenchman, in surprise at such fickle punish- 
 ments. "The Papists are hanged, and the anti-Papists 
 are burned," was the answer. 
 
 But Catharine Howard had not been queen of England 
 
158 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 one year before her terrible doom overshadowed her. The 
 king discovered certain condemnatory circumstances, 
 regarding the conduct of the queen previous to her mar- 
 riage with him, and in a few short months Catharine also 
 expiated her ambition and her supposed guilt upon the 
 scaffold. 
 
 King Henry again resorted to his literary pursuits for 
 solace, being for the time disgusted with his experiments 
 in the matrimonial line, as before his hapless wives had 
 also been, and forsooth with graver cause and better 
 reason. " The king had better marry a widow," said the 
 people ; and that idea seeming to have occurred also to 
 the mind of his august majesty, in the year 1543, this 
 " royal Bluebeard of English history" took for his sixth 
 wife, the Lady Catherine Parr, the three months' widow 
 of Lord Latimer. She was an ardent partisan of the 
 Protestant party, as well as learned and beautiful, but her 
 skill in argument had well-nigh cost her dear. 
 
 To amuse her gouty, quarrelsome, would-be-literary and 
 spasmodically -religious royal spouse, Queen Catherine 
 ventured to argue with him upon certain points in theology. 
 Finding himself worsted in the mental contest, the irate 
 king exclaimed : " A good hearing this, when women be- 
 come such clerks ; and a thing much to my comfort to 
 come in my old age to be taught by my wife." And 
 thereupon the new chancellor received the order to pre- 
 pare the impeachment of the queen. But Catherine was 
 warned in time of her coming doom and was possessed of 
 self-control and tact sufficient for this emergency. When 
 again the conversation turned upon religious subjects and 
 the king questioned her upon some knotty point, she 
 answered laughing : " I am not so foolish as not to know 
 what I can understand when I possess the favor of having 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 159 
 
 for a master and spouse a prince so learned in holy 
 matters." 
 
 u By St. Mary!" exclaimed the king; u itis not so, 
 Kate ; thou hast become a doctor." 
 
 " And surely," quoth the queen with mirthful looks, " I 
 thought I noticed that such conversation diverted your 
 Grace's attention from your sufferings, and I ventured to 
 discuss with you in the hope of making you forget your 
 present infirmity." 
 
 "Is it so, sweetheart?" replied the king ; " then we are 
 friends again, and it doth me more good than if I had 
 received a hundred thousand pounds." 
 
 The skilful and politic queen, well pleased to find her 
 lovely head still resting on her own shoulders instead of 
 on the executioner's block, gave thanks to God for her 
 deliverance, and henceforth left theology in peace. The 
 orders given to the chancellor not having been revoked, 
 the next day he arrived with forty men to arrest the 
 queen, but King Henry, feigning surprise and anger, sent 
 him away with much apparent displeasure. 
 
 Thus had Queen Catherine's wit saved her neck, and 
 the strong grip of the increasing gout now came to her 
 rescue, and this Prince of Shams soon found himself held 
 in the clutch of such a sturdy foe that neither qualms of 
 conscience, nor tears, nor threats, could rid him at last of 
 this dread consort of the tomb. Death claimed him, and 
 the royal hypocrite was forced to yield to that relentless 
 conqueror ; and Henry VIII. faced the awful tribunal 
 where no pretensions or shams could avail to hide the 
 horrid deformity of his sin-polluted soul. 
 
 Upon the death of Henry VIII. in 1547, his son Edward 
 was proclaimed king as Edward VI. But this young 
 king died in 1553, at the age of sixteen years, and the 
 
160 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 mighty realm of England was left to the conflicting suc- 
 cession of two princesses, both of whom their royal father 
 had stigmatized with the ban of illegitimacy. In this 
 emergency the Protestants, headed by the Duke of North- 
 umberland, determined to set up a new claimant. 
 
 The daughter-in-law of the Duke of Northumberland 
 was Lady Jane Grey, who was the granddaughter by her 
 mother's side of Mary, queen-dowager of France, and 
 sister of Henry VIII. Upon the death of young Edward, 
 the Duke of Northumberland appeared before the gentle 
 Lady Jane, who was occupied in reading Plato in Greek, 
 and bowing his haughty knee in the presence of his 
 daughter-in-law, he exclaimed : 
 
 " The king, your cousin and our sovereign lord, has 
 surrendered his soul to God ; but before his death, and in 
 order to preserve the kingdom from the infection of 
 Popery, he resolved to set aside his sisters, Mary and 
 Elizabeth, declared illegitimate by an act of Parliament, 
 and he has commanded us to proclaim your Grace as 
 queen and sovereign to succeed him." 
 
 Thereupon the poor, unwilling Lady Jane Grey was 
 proclaimed queen, but dearly did she buy her ten days of 
 sovereign power. Mary was speedily brought to London 
 and declared queen, and for this innocent offence the 
 gentle Lady Jane Grey afterwards met death upon the 
 scaffold. 
 
 The reign of Mary was made infamously illustrious by 
 the execution of Lady Jane Grey and many others, and 
 the burning at the stake of the bishops Ridley, Latimer, 
 Cranmer, and many other religious martyrs. So sanguin- 
 ary was- the reign of this queen that she is known in his- 
 tory as Bloody Mary. 
 
 Poor Catharine of Aragon ! It were surely sad enough 
 
LADY JANE GREY 
 
 Painting by L. De Heere, National 
 Portrait Gallery, London. 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 161 
 
 to have borne the many sorrows of her afflicted life, with- 
 out having her only surviving child stamped with such a 
 name of infamy. Mary was the first queen-regnant of 
 England. The queens of England are classified as queen- 
 regnant, queen-consort, or queeii-dowager. The first 
 alone reigns in her own right as sole sovereign of the 
 realm. Of the forty queens of England beginning with 
 Matilda, wife of William the Conqueror, who was the first 
 crowned consort, and ending with Victoria, the present 
 queen of England, five were queens-regnant and thirty- 
 five queens-consort. 
 
 Elizabeth Tudor, the daughter of Henry VIII. and 
 Anne Boleyn, was born in 1533, on the seventh of Sep- 
 tember. On the tenth of the same month, the royal babe 
 of three days was christened with great pomp and cere- 
 mony. 
 
 "The walls between Greenwich Palace and the Con- 
 vent of the Grey Friars were hung with tapestry, and the 
 way strewn with green rushes. The baptismal font was 
 of silver ; it was placed in the middle of the church, raised 
 three steps high, the steps being covered with fine cloth, 
 surmounted by a square canopy of crimson satin fringed 
 with gold, enclosed by a rail covered with red ray, and 
 guarded by several gentlemen with aprons and towels 
 about their necks. Between the choir and bod}' of the 
 church a closet was erected with a pan of fire in it, that 
 the child might be dismantled for the ceremony without 
 taking cold. When all these things were ready, the child 
 was brought into the hall of the palace, and the procession 
 proceeded to the Grey Friars' church. The citizens led 
 the wa}', two and two ; then followed gentlemen, esquires, 
 and chaplains ; after them the aldermen, then the mayor 
 by himself, then the privy council in robes, then the gentle- 
 
162 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 men of the king's chapel in copes, then barons, earls; 
 then the Earl of Essex, bearing the gilt covered basin ; 
 after him the Marquis of Exeter, with a taper of virgin 
 wax, followed by the Earl of Dorset bearing the salt, and 
 the Lady Mary of Norfolk, bearing the chrism, which was 
 very rich with pearls and precious stones ; lasth 7 , came the 
 Dowager-Duchess of Norfolk, bearing in her arms the royal 
 infant, wrapped in a mantle of purple velvet, having a long 
 train furred with ermine, which was borne by the Countess 
 of Kent, assisted by the Earls of Wiltshire and Derby. 
 
 The Duchess was supported on the right side by the 
 Duke of Norfolk, with his marshal's rod, and on the left 
 by the Duke of Suffolk the only dukes then existing in 
 the peerage of England and a rich canopy was borne 
 over the babe by the Lords Rochford, Hussey, and Wil- 
 liam and Thomas Howard. 
 
 At the church door the child was received b} 7 the Bishop 
 of London, who performed the ceremony, and a grand 
 cavalcade of bishops and mitred abbots. The sponsors 
 were Archbishop Cranmer, the Dowager-Duchess of Nor- 
 folk, and the Marchioness of Dorset. 
 
 The future queen was carried to the font, and with the 
 ceremony of the Catholic church christened Elizabeth, 
 after her grandmother, Elizabeth of York ; and that done, 
 Garter King-at-Arms cried aloud, " God, of his infinite 
 goodness, send prosperous life and long to the high and 
 mighty Princess of England, Elizabeth. Then the trum- 
 pets sounded, the princess was carried up to the altar, 
 the Gospel read over her, and she was confirmed by Arch- 
 bishop Cranmer and presented with the following gifts : 
 A standing cup of gold by Cranmer ; a similar cup fretted 
 with pearls, by the Duchess of Norfolk ; three gilt bowls, 
 pounced, with covers, by the Marchioness of Dorset ; and 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 163 
 
 three standard bowls graven and gilt, with covers, by the 
 Marchioness of Exeter. Then, after wafers and comfits 
 had been served in abundance, the procession returned to 
 the palace in the same order as it had set out, excepting 
 that the Earl of Worcester, Lord Thomas Howard, the 
 Lord Fitz waiter, and Sir John Dudley, preceded by the 
 trumpeters, carried the gifts of the sponsors before the 
 princess. Five hundred staff torches carried by the yeo- 
 men of the guard and the king's servants, lit up the way 
 homeward ; and twenty gentlemen, bearing large wax 
 flambeaux, walked on each side of the princess, who was 
 carried to the queen's chamber-door, when a flourish of 
 trumpets sounded and the procession dispersed." 
 
 The tiny infant, christened with all this ceremony, was 
 created Princess of Wales when three months old ; and 
 when in her thirteenth month, an attempt was made to 
 betroth her to the Duke D'Angouleme, the third son of 
 Francis I., of France. Rather a strange proceeding con- 
 cerning the spinster queen of England. 
 
 The tragic death of Anne Boleyn left this babe mother- 
 less at three years of age. 
 
 The first public ceremony in which Elizabeth partici- 
 pated was the christening of Edward the Sixth. She was 
 then just four years of age, and was borne in the arms of 
 the Earl of Hertford, brother to the queen, Jane Seymour. 
 Elizabeth carried in her tiny hands the chrism for her 
 new-born half-brother ; and after the ceremony she walked 
 with infant dignity in the procession, being led by the 
 hand by the Princess Mary. 
 
 For some time, Elizabeth was allowed to reside in the 
 same palace with the infant Edward, and she displayed 
 the greatest affection for him. When she was seven 
 years old she made the little prince a birthday gift of u a 
 
164 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 slryrte of cam'yke of her owne woorkynge," which was 
 quite precocious, considering her tender years. 
 
 The Princess Mary evinced great regard for her sister 
 Elizabeth ; and when the brutal King Henry deposed both 
 these princesses from their rights of succession, and stig- 
 matized them as illegitimate, and sent word to Mary that 
 she should no longer treat Elizabeth as princess, Mary 
 wrote a letter to her father, the king, in which she kindly 
 mentioned Elizabeth thus: " My sister Elizabeth is in 
 good health, and such a child, too, as I doubt not but 
 your Highness shall have cause to rejoice of in time 
 coming." 
 
 Anne of Cleves was granted permission to see Eliza- 
 beth, even after her divorce, providing Elizabeth did not 
 address her as queen ; and all of the wives of Henry VIII. 
 evinced great love for the Princess Elizabeth ; and through 
 the influence of Catherine Parr, Henry VIII. restored 
 Elizabeth to her right of succession, although the act 
 which pronounced her illegitimate remained forever unre- 
 pealed ; and after she had become queen of England, she 
 refrained from requiring Parliament to repeal those acts 
 of her father which had declared his marriage with Anne 
 Boleyn null and void ; and she contented herself with an 
 act of Parliament which declared in general terms her 
 rights of succession to the throne. 
 
 While the youthful Edward VI. was king, the Prin- 
 cess Elizabeth was involved in certain questionable rela- 
 tions with the Lord High Admiral Seymour, who had 
 married the Queen-Dowager Catherine, a few weeks after 
 the death of Henry VIII. 
 
 Upon the death of Catherine, a year afterwards, Lord 
 High Admiral Seymour aspired to the hand of the Prin- 
 cess Elizabeth. There is no doubt that Elizabeth loved 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 165 
 
 Seymour ; and, as she acknowledged, would have married 
 him if the consent of the royal executors could have been 
 obtained ; but as such an alliance was considered beneath 
 her. Elizabeth was shut up for a time in a sort of impris- 
 onment, and the lord high admiral was conveniently dis- 
 posed of by being led to the scaffold. 
 
 It is amusing to note that the hand of this much-courted 
 and confirmed-spinster queen was once offered .by Henry 
 VIII. to a Scottish earl of equivocal birth and indifferent 
 reputation, who actually declined the honor. But Eliza- 
 beth, when queen of England, proudly refused earls, 
 dukes, and even kings, though it must be confessed she 
 served the king of Sweden, who was one of her most con- 
 stant suitors, rather meanly ; for this royal lover sent her 
 a magnificent present consisting of eighteen large piebald 
 horses, and two ships' loads of the most precious articles 
 his country could produce, which princely gift Elizabeth 
 most graciously received, but wrote to this ardent lover, 
 that she anxiously hoped he would spare himself the 
 fatigues of a fruitless voyage, rather strange royal eti- 
 quette, to receive the suitor's gift and then reject the 
 giver. 
 
 Regarding Elizabeth's mental acquirements, her learned 
 preceptor, Roger Ascham, thus wrote : 
 
 " The Lady Elizabeth hath accomplished her sixteenth 
 year ; and so much solidity of understanding, such cour- 
 tesy united with dignit}', have never been observed at so 
 early an age. She has the most ardent love of true relig- 
 ion and of the best kind of literature. The constitution 
 of her mind is exempt from female weakness, and she is 
 endued with a masculine power of application. No appre- 
 hension can be quicker than hers, no memory more reten- 
 tive. French and Italian she speaks like English ; Latin 
 
166 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 with fluency, propriety, and judgment; she also speaks 
 Greek with me frequently, willingly, and moderately well. 
 Nothing can be more elegant than her handwriting, 
 whether in Greek or Roman characters. In music she is 
 very skilful, but does not greatly delight. With respect 
 to personal decoration, she greatly prefers a simple ele- 
 gance to show and splendor, so despising the outward 
 adorning of plaiting the hair and of wearing gold, that 
 in the whole manner of her life she rather resembles 
 Hippolita than Phoedra. 
 
 44 She read with me almost the whole of Cicero and a 
 great part of Livy ; from these two authors, indeed, her 
 knowledge of the Latin language has been almost exclu- 
 sively derived. The beginning of the day was always 
 devoted by her to the New Testament in Greek, after 
 which she read select portions of Isocrates, and the 
 tragedies of Sophocles, which I judged best adapted to 
 supply her tongue with the purest diction, her mind with 
 the most excellent precepts, and her exalted station with 
 a defence against the utmost power of fortune. For her 
 religious instruction she drew first from the fountains of 
 Scripture, and afterwards from St. Cyprian, Melancthon, 
 and similar works. In every kind of writing she easily 
 detected any ill-adapted or far-fetched expression. By 
 a diligent attention to these particulars, her ears became 
 so practised and so nice that there was nothing in Greek, 
 Latin, or English, prose or verse, which, according to its 
 merits or defects, she did not either reject with disgust 
 or receive with the highest delight." 
 
 After the accession of Mary to the throne, the Wyatt 
 rebellion took place : and as it was reported that the 
 Princess Elizabeth was implicated, she was confined for 
 three months in the Tower. Elizabeth was then conve} r ed 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 161 
 
 to Woodstock, where she endured a less rigorous impris- 
 onment. Her correspondence was carefully watched, and 
 it was with great difficulty that she succeeded at length 
 in appealing to the queen. It was at this time that she 
 wrote upon her window with a diamond the following 
 
 lines : 
 
 " Much suspected, of me 
 Nothing proved can be, 
 Quoth Elizabeth prisoner." 
 
 As her Protestant proclivities were well known, when 
 by the marriage of Mary to Philip of Spain, Popedom 
 was re-established in England, Elizabeth thought it policy 
 to attend the confessional ; and upon one occasion being 
 asked what was her belief regarding the " blessed sacra- 
 ment," she gave this famous and ambiguous answer : 
 
 " Christ was the word that spake it ; 
 He blessed the bread and brake it. 
 And what the word did make it, 
 That I revere and take it." 
 
 During this imprisonment, Elizabeth received a message 
 from the queen, offering her immediate liberty on condi- 
 tion of her accepting the hand of the Duke of Savoy in 
 marriage. But the proud princess preferred imprison- 
 ment to compulsory wedlock, and she continued for some 
 time longer in forced seclusion. At length Philip, the 
 husband of Queen Mary, who seemed to be the person 
 most persistent in regard to this marriage of Elizabeth, 
 now resolved to try more lenient measures, as severity 
 would not coerce her into obedience. The princess was 
 accordingly released from her imprisonment, and invited 
 to a grand ball at the palace, to which the duke was also 
 welcomed as a guest. Elizabeth was attired for this 
 occasion in a robe of white satin embroidered all ovet 
 
168 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 with pearls ; but the matrimonial matters do not seem to 
 have advanced favorably, notwithstanding ; and the death 
 of Queen Mary soon after left Philip of Spain a widower, 
 and he himself now became a suitor for the hand of the 
 young Queen Elizabeth. But to his suit, also, Elizabeth 
 turned a deaf ear, and Philip was henceforth her bitterest 
 enemy. 
 
 At the time of the accession of Elizabeth to the throne 
 of England, the English people were much divided in 
 religious opinions consequent upon the three important 
 theological changes which had taken place in the short 
 space of twelve years. 
 
 " King Henry VIII. retained the ecclesiastical suprem- 
 acy, with the first-fruits and tenths ; maintained seven 
 sacraments, with obits and mass for the quick and the 
 dead. 
 
 "King Edward VI. abolished the mass, authorized one 
 Book of Common Prayer in English, with hallowing the 
 bread, and wine, etc., and established only two sacra- 
 ments. 
 
 " Queen Mary restored all things according to the 
 Church of Rome, re-established the papal supremacy, and 
 permitted nothing within her dominions that was repug- 
 nant to the Roman Catholic Church. But the death of 
 Mary was the ruin of all abbots, priors, prioresses, monks, 
 and nuns. 
 
 "Elizabeth, on her accession, commanded that no one 
 should preach without a special license ; that such rites 
 and ceremonies should be used in all churches as had been 
 used in her Highness' chapel ; and that the Epistles and 
 Gospel should be read in the English tongue ; and in her 
 first Parliament, held at Westminster, in January, 1559, 
 she expelled the papal supremacy, resumed the first-fruits 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 169 
 
 and tenths, repressed the mass, re-introduced the Book of 
 Common Prayer arid the sacraments in the English tongue, 
 and finally firmly re-established the Protestant Church of 
 England." 
 
 Her Majesty was twenty-five years of age at the time 
 of her coronation. She sent the usual notification of her 
 accession to the throne to the Pope at Rome. But in 
 answer, the fiery-spirited old man thundered forth his 
 maledictions at her presumption in daring to assume the 
 crown without his leave. Elizabeth, in reply, took upon 
 herself the audacious title of " the Head of the Church," 
 and boldly ignored the pontifical anathemas. But she 
 disliked the strict Presbyterians, or Puritans, as they 
 were then called, almost as much as she did the Roman 
 Catholics. Their great leader, Knox, had published a 
 pamphlet upon female government, entitled "The First 
 Blast of the Trumpet, Against the Monstrous Regiment 
 of Women." This was more than the proud queen could 
 stand, and Kuox and the Puritans felt the power of her 
 displeasure. She was not over fond of preachers or of 
 preaching, and remarked " that two or three were enough 
 for a whole country." When her clergy discoursed upon 
 subjects distasteful to her in their sermons, she would 
 frequently call out in her chapel, and command the 
 preacher to change the subject or restrain an exhortation 
 which she considered too bold. She had not the slightest 
 idea of tolerating any opinions contrary to her own august 
 will ; and she told the Archbishop of Canterbury that 
 "she was resolved that no man should be suffered to 
 decline either on the left or on the right hand from the 
 drawn line limited by her authority and injunctions." 
 
 But we have not space to give either the religious 
 or political aspects of Queen Elizabeth's reign. When, 
 
170 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 in 1558, the death of Queen Mary was announced to her 
 by a deputation from the privy council who came to Hat- 
 field where she was then staying to salute her as queen, 
 she appeared much overpowered by the solemnity of the 
 occasion, and exclaimed, as she sank upon her knees in 
 devotion: "It is the Lord's doing; it is marvellous in 
 our eyes ! " 
 
 She afterwards adopted as a motto in Latin for her 
 gold and silver coins, " I have chosen God for my 
 helper." 
 
 On being conducted with much pomp to the royal 
 apartments in the Tower, attended by an immense con- 
 course of people who graciously greeted her, she re- 
 marked upon entering the well-remembered Tower where 
 she had once been received through the traitor's gate as a 
 prisoner, but now entered the royal palace as acknowl- 
 edged sovereign : " Some have fallen from being princes 
 in this land to be prisoners in this place. I am raised 
 from being prisoner in this place to be a prince of this 
 land ; so I must yield myself thankful to God and merci- 
 ful to man, in remembrance of the same." She was 
 crowned on the 15th of January, 1558, with great splen- 
 dor. Upon the morning after her coronation, as she was 
 proceeding to chapel, one of her courtiers cried out with 
 loud voice, requesting that four or five prisoners might be 
 released. Upon the queen's asking whom these prisoners 
 might be, he replied: "The four Evangelists and the 
 Apostle St. Paul, who have been long shut up in an 
 unknown tongue, and are not able to converse with the 
 people." 
 
 Elizabeth answered this strange appeal by remarking : 
 "It is best to inquire of them whether they approve of 
 being released or not." 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 171 
 
 The result of a convocation held for the discussion of 
 this subject was a new translation for common use. 
 
 In the first session of Parliament a deputation was sent 
 to Queen Elizabeth at Whitehall, requesting that her 
 Grace might think of marriage, to which Elizabeth replied : 
 
 " In a thing which is not very pleasing to me, the infal- 
 lible testimony of your good will and all the rest of my 
 people is most acceptable. As concerning your eager 
 persuasion of me to marriage, I must tell you I have been 
 ever persuaded that I was ordained by God to consider, 
 and above all, to do those things which appertain to his 
 glory. And therefore it is that I have made choice of 
 this kind of life. To conclude, I am already bound unto 
 a husband, which is the kingdom of England, and let that 
 suffice you ; " saj'ing which she extended her finger upon 
 which she wore the ring with which the ceremony of her 
 coronation had been performed. This same demand of 
 the Parliament was subsequently repeated many times, but 
 until the end of her life Elizabeth took pleasure in keep- 
 ing England and the world in suspense by her grave 
 coquetries, which from time to time betokened a probable 
 marriage which she herself never apparently desired. 
 Proposals for her hand poured in from every court of 
 Europe, but though she entertained some of them for a 
 time, she always managed to break them off in the end. 
 The man whom she probably really desired to marry after 
 she became queen was her favorite Dudley, whom she 
 afterwards created Earl of Leicester. So great was her 
 evident fancy for this man that she might have consented 
 had he been free ; and when the sudden and suspicious 
 death of his wife left his hand at her disposal, the horror 
 of the people who believed him guilty of wife-murder 
 restrained her from thus lowering her queenly dignity. In 
 
172 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 spite of deceit and all kinds of wily intrigues, this subtle 
 sycophant succeeded in retaining his place as favorite 
 until his death, notwithstanding his base plots and false 
 pretensions. 
 
 The century immediately preceding the reign of Eliza- 
 beth was renowned for three most illustrious events, the 
 invention of printing, which took place about 1448 ; the 
 discovery of America in 1492 ; and the reformation in 
 1517. 
 
 The age of Elizabeth was also fertile in great events 
 and in great men. " It was the age of heroism and gen- 
 ius, of wonderful mental activity, extraordinary changes 
 and daring enterprises, of fierce struggles for religious 
 or political freedom. It produced a Shakespeare, the 
 first of poets ; Bacon, the great philosopher ; Hooker, the 
 great divine ; Drake, the great seaman, and the first of 
 P^nglish circumnavigators ; Gresham, the great merchant ; 
 and Sydne}~, noblest of courtiers ; and Spenser, and 
 Raleigh, and Essex, names renowned in history and song. 
 In other countries we find Luther, the reformer; and 
 Sully, the statesman ; Ariosto and Tasso ; Cervantes and 
 Camo'ens ; Michel Angelo, Titian, and Correggio ; Pales- 
 trina, the father of Italian music ; all these, and many 
 other famous men never since surpassed were nearly 
 contemporary ; it was an age of greatness, and Elizabeth 
 was great and illustrious in connection with it." 
 
 The reign of ' ' Good Queen Bess " has been held in 
 reverence, in comparison with that of "Bloody Mary," 
 her sister, which was stamped with infamy ; and the 
 44 Elizabethan age" is one of the most illustrious in the 
 annals of literature. 
 
 The government of Elizabeth was acknowledged to 
 have been admirably managed, as regards her foreign 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 173 
 
 policy, her wars, treaties, and alliances with other Euro- 
 pean powers. With the exception of Leicester and Hatton, 
 her statesmen were well chosen. Lord Burleigh was her 
 prime minister for forty years, and Sir Nicholas Bacon, 
 and his more famous son, Francis, were among her wise 
 and remarkable ministers. 
 
 Navigation, manufactures, and trade, made great ad- 
 vance during her reign. She was the first to establish 
 trade with Turke} T and Russia, and was the first sov- 
 ereign who sent ambassadors to those courts. Mirrors 
 and drinking-glasses from Venice, also porcelain and 
 damask linen were then first introduced into England ; but 
 with all this advance forks were still unknown, and Queen 
 Elizabeth, and her elegant belaced courtiers, and her 
 stately beruffed dames, still ate with their fingers. 
 
 The first pair of knitted silk stockings ever made in 
 England was presented to Queen Elizabeth in 1560 by 
 her silk-woman. So much did she enjoy this luxury of 
 dress, that she henceforth discarded her hose of cloth, 
 and never after wore any other than those of silk. 
 
 Although her preceptor had described the youthful 
 Princess Elizabeth as plain and sombre in her mode of 
 dress, Queen Elizabeth was famous for her extravagant 
 and showy costumes, and her great vanity regarding her 
 appearance. So outrageous in size did her favorite ruffs 
 become, when the fashion was adopted by her court 
 ladies, that a royal proclamation was issued limiting them 
 to a certain number of inches in height, Elizabeth retain- 
 ing the privilege of wearing them larger and higher than 
 any of her ladies ; and bishops thundered forth their con- 
 demnations regarding the growing extravagance of dress, 
 cautioning their hearers against " fine-fingered ruffiers, 
 with sable about their necks, corked slippers, trimmed 
 
174 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 buskins, and warm mittens. - These tender Parnels" said 
 they, " must have one gown for the day, another for the 
 night ; one long, another short ; one for winter, another 
 for summer ; one furred through, another but faced ; one 
 for the work-day, another for the holy-day ; one of this 
 color, another of that ; one of cloth, another of silk or 
 damask. Change of apparel, one afore dinner, another 
 after ; one of Spanish fashion, another of Turkey ; and to 
 be brief, never content with enough, but always devising 
 new and strange fashions. Yea, a ruffian will have more 
 in his ruff and his hose than he should spend in a year ; 
 he who ought to go in a russet coat spends as much on 
 apparel for himself and his wife as his father would have 
 kept a good house with." 
 
 " The costumes of that age were magnificent. Gowns 
 of velvet or satin, richly trimmed with silk, furs, or gold 
 lace, costly gold chains, and caps or hoods of rich mate- 
 rials, adorned with feathers, decorated on all occasions of 
 ceremony the persons not only of nobles and courtiers, 
 but of their retainers, and even of the substantial citizens. 
 The attire of the ladies was proportionally splendid. 
 Hangings of cloth, of silk, and of velvet, cloth of gold, 
 and cloth of silver, or ' needle-work sublime ' adorned on 
 days of family festivities the principal chamber of every 
 house of respectable appearance ; and on public festivals 
 these rich draperies were suspended from the balconies, 
 and, combined with the banners and pennons floating over- 
 head, gave to the streets an appearance resembling a 
 suite of long and gayl} T dressed salons." 
 
 Queen Elizabeth was very fond of display and gor- 
 geous pageants, and her royal progresses were always 
 attended with magnificent spectacles of various kinds : 
 sometimes a splendid water procession on the Thames; 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 175 
 
 again, she rode on horseback, attended by lords and ladies 
 attired in crimson velvet, with their horses caparisoned 
 with the same rich material. 
 
 The band of gentlemen pensioners, which was the boast 
 and ornament of Elizabeth's court, was composed of the 
 flower of the English nobility, and to be admitted to serve 
 in its ranks was regarded as a high distinction. 
 
 Music was much in fashion in Elizabeth's court, and 
 she excelled -Mary, Queen of Scots, on keyed instruments, 
 though Mary played best upon the lute. An instrument 
 resembling a small guitar was much used as an accom- 
 paniment to the voice. 
 
 Elizabeth gave little patronage to painting or architec- 
 ture ; the former art she encouraged only so far as regarded 
 the multiplication of pictures of herself. At length so 
 many were the poor portraits of her which appeared, and 
 were mostly caricatures of her royal face and person, that 
 the queen issued a proclamation prohibiting all persons 
 from drawing, painting, or engraving her countenance or 
 figure, until 'some perfect pattern should be made by a 
 skilful limner. But her painters did not flatter her as 
 much as her poets. 
 
 "The portraits remaining of Elizabeth show how vile, 
 how tawdry, and how vulgar was her taste in art. They 
 could hardly be fine enough to please her ; they seem all 
 made up of jewels, crowns, and frizzled hair, powdered 
 with diamonds, and ruffs and cuffs and farthingales and 
 things ; and from the midst of this superfluity of orna- 
 ment, her pinched Roman nose, thin lips, and sharp eyes 
 peer out with a very disagreeable effect, quite contrary to 
 all our ideas of grace or majesty." She was so little capa- 
 ble of judging a work of art that she would not allow a 
 painter to put any shadows upon the face, because, she 
 said, " shade is an accident, and not in nature." 
 
176 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 Many stories are told illustrating Elizabeth's extreme 
 vanity. Sir John Harrington relates : 
 
 " That Lady M. Howard was possessed of a rich border 
 powdered with golde and pearle, and a velvet suite belong- 
 ing thereto, which moved many to envye ; nor did it please 
 the queene, who thought it exceeded her own. One daye 
 the queene did sende privately, and got the lady's rich ves- 
 ture, which she put on herself, and came forthe the cham- 
 ber among the ladies. The kirtle and border was far too 
 shorte for her majestie's height, and she asked every one 
 how they liked her new-fancied suit. At length she asked 
 the owner herself ' if it was not made too short and ill- 
 becoming,' which the poor ladie did presentlie consent to. 
 4 Why, then, if it become not me as being too shorte, I 
 am minded it shall never become thee as being too fine ; 
 so it fitteth neither well.' This sharp rebuke abashed the 
 ladie, and she never adorned herself herewith any more." 
 
 The sight of her own face in a mirror, as she grew 
 old and became still more unprepossessing in appearance, 
 threw her into " transports of rage," and towards the end 
 of her life she discontinued the use of a mirror, and it is 
 said that her tire- women " sometimes indulged their own 
 hatred and mirth, and ventured to lay upon the royal nose 
 the carmine which ought to have embellished the cheeks," 
 confident that her aversion to a mirror would screen their 
 pranks. Still the herd of flatterers around her were forced 
 to address her as a goddess of beauty, and she actually 
 seemed to think she could play the part of a Venus at the 
 age of sixty-five. Or she was at least pleased when her 
 fawning courtiers called her one. 
 
 Sir James Melville gives this amusing account of Eliza- 
 beth's jealousy of the beauty and attractions of her hated 
 rival, Mary, Queen of Scots. Melville had been sent 
 
MARY, QUEEN- OF SCOTS. 177 
 
 from Scotland to London by Mary, to interview Eliza- 
 beth concerning certain matters. Sir James writes : " At 
 divers meetings we had conversations on different sub- 
 jects. The queen, my mistress, had instructed me to leave 
 matters of gravity sometimes, and cast in merry purposes, 
 lest otherwise she should be wearied, she being well in- 
 formed of her natural temper. Therefore, in declaring 
 my observations of the customs of Holland, Poland, and 
 Italy, the buskins of the women were not forgot, and 
 what country weed I thought best becoming gentlewomen. 
 The queen said she had clothes of every sort, which every 
 day thereafter, so long as I was there, she changed. 
 
 "One day she had the English weed, another day the 
 French, another the Italian, and so on. She asked me 
 which of them became her best? I answered, in m}* judg- 
 ment the Italian dress ; which answer I found pleased her 
 well, for she delighted to show her golden-colored hair, 
 wearing a caul and a bonnet, as they do in Italy. Her 
 hair was rather reddish than yellow, curled in appearance 
 naturally. She desired to know what color of hair was 
 reputed best ; and whether my queen's hair or hers was 
 best ; and which of them was fairest ? I said she was the 
 fairest queen in England, and mine in Scotland ; yet still 
 she appeared earnest. I then told her they were both the 
 fairest ladies in their respective countries ; that her Ma- 
 jesty was whiter, but my queen was very lovely. She 
 inquired which of them was highest in stature. I said 
 my queen. Then said she, 'She is too high, for I myself 
 am neither too high nor too low.' She inquired if she 
 plaj^ed well upon the lute and the virginals ? I said rea- 
 sonably for a queen. 
 
 "That same day, after dinner, my Lord of Hunsdon 
 drew me to a quiet gallery, that I might hear some music, 
 
178 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 but he said he durst not avow it, where I might heat 
 the queen play upon the virginals. After I had harkened 
 awhile, I stood by the tapestry that hung before the door 
 of the chamber, and seeing her back was towards the 
 door, I ventured within the chamber and stood at a pretty 
 space, hearing her play excellently well ; but she left off 
 immediately as soon as she turned about and saw me. 
 She appeared surprised and came forward, seeming to 
 strike me with her hand, alleging that she used not to play 
 before men, but when she was solitary, to shun melan- 
 choly. She asked how I came there. I answered, as I 
 was walking with my Lord of Hunsdon we passed by the 
 chamber door ; I heard such melody as ravished me, 
 whereby I was drawn in ere I knew how ; excusing my 
 fault of homeliness, as being brought up in the court of 
 France, where such freedom was allowed ; declaring my- 
 self willing to endure whatever punishment her Majesty 
 should please to inflict upon me for so great an offence. 
 Then she sat down low upon a cushion, and I upon my 
 knees by her, but with her own hand she gave me a cush- 
 ion to place under my knee, which at first I refused, but 
 she compelled me to take it. She then called for my Lady 
 Stafford out of the next chamber, for the queen was 
 alone. She inquired whether my queen or she played 
 best. In that I found myself obliged to give her the 
 praise. She said my French was very good, and asked 
 if I could speak Italian, which she spoke reasonably well. 
 I told her Majesty I had no time to learn that language, 
 not having been above two months in Itaty. Then she 
 spoke to me in Dutch, which was not good, and would 
 know what kind of books I most delighted in, whether 
 theology, history, or love matters. I said I liked well of 
 all the sorts. 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 179 
 
 " I now took occasion to press earnestly my despatch ; 
 she said I was sooner weary of her company than she was 
 of mine. I told her Majesty that though I had no reason 
 to be weary, I knew my mistress's affairs called me home. 
 Yet I was detained two days longer, that I might see her 
 dance, as I was afterwards informed ; which being over, 
 she inquired of me whether she or my queen danced best? 
 I answered, the queen danced not so high, nor so dispos- 
 edly as she did. Then again she wished that she might 
 see the queen at some convenient place of meeting. I 
 offered to convey her secretly to Scotland by post horses, 
 clothed like a page, that under this disguise she might see 
 the queen. She appeared to like that kind of language, 
 but only answered it with a sigh, saying, ' Alas ! if I 
 might do it thus ! ' I then withdrew." 
 
 The rise of English manufacture is dated from the reign 
 of Queen Elizabeth. The first paper-mill was set up in 
 1590, and watches and coaches were first introduced into 
 England during her reign. u When we hear of Elizabeth 
 riding to the House of Peers on a pillion in the beginning 
 of her reign, we should not forget that towards the close 
 of it she is represented as taking an airing in her coach 
 every day." 
 
 "The daily ceremonial of her court was distinguished 
 by ' Oriental servility.' Her table was served kneeling, 
 and with as many genuflections as would have contented 
 the Emperor of China. Even her ministers never ad- 
 dressed her but on their knees. From this slavish cere- 
 mony Lord Burleigh was latterly excused, when age and 
 infirmities had rendered it painful or rather impracticable ; 
 but he was the only exception." 
 
 It has been said ' ' that Elizabeth never forgot the 
 woman in the sovereign ; and that with greater truth she 
 
180 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 never forget the sovereign in the woman." Poor praise, 
 truly ! without heart, without capacity for any kindliness 
 or womanly tenderness, she lived without a friend and 
 died without a mourner. Courtiers grovelled in fawning 
 servility at her feet, women feared her ; but no one loved 
 her, and even those who flattered her despised her. 
 
 Of her two celebrated favorites, Leicester and Essex, 
 the first was perfidious and utterly worthless ; the latter 
 was too manly to bear her insolence, and for that he lost 
 his head. He was too spirited to cringe at her footstool, 
 and when on one occasion she angrily boxed his ear, he 
 exclaimed, in indignation, "I would not have taken such 
 an affront from the hands of the king, her father, and I 
 will not accept it of a petticoat ! I owe her Majesty the 
 duty of an earl, but I will never serve her as a slave ! " 
 
 But nevertheless, the petticoat would not be opposed, 
 and Essex perished on the fatal block, even though his 
 death wrung the small heart Elizabeth possessed with all 
 the sorrow it was capable of feeling. She had given 
 Essex a ring in the time of his influence, telling him, if 
 ever he was in danger to send it to her and she would 
 aid him. When he was sentenced to die, he sent Queen 
 Elizabeth this ring, but it passed through the hands of a 
 court lady whose husband was Essex's deadly foe. The 
 ring never reached the queen, and Essex was executed. 
 Years after, when this countess was dying she confessed 
 the fate of the ring to the queen. The sorrow and remorse 
 which Elizabeth experienced on knowing that her favorite 
 had thus appealed to her mercy, hastened her own death. 
 
 It was during the reign of Queen Elizabeth that Sir 
 Francis Drake accomplished the journey around the world 
 and Sir Walter Raleigh made his famous voyages. To- 
 bacco was first introduced into England by him. An 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 181 
 
 amusing story is told of the first use of the weed. He was 
 smoking a pipe one day, when his servant came into the 
 room bearing a tankard of ale. The simple fellow had 
 never before witnessed the process of smoking, and sup- 
 posing that the clouds of smoke issuing from his master's 
 lips betokened some awful accident, he flung the ale into 
 his face and ran from the room, crying that his master 
 was on fire and would be burned to ashes if they did not 
 come to his aid. 
 
 Raleigh once amused the queen by making a wager with 
 her that he could tell her the exact weight of the smoke of 
 every pipeful of tobacco that he consumed. The wager 
 was accepted by the queen, and Raleigh thereupon pro- 
 ceeded to weigh the tobacco he placed in his pipe, and, 
 after smoking, he weighed the ashes remaining, and in- 
 formed her that the difference between the two was the 
 exact weight of the smoke. Elizabeth paid the wager, 
 saying: "That she knew of many persons who had 
 turned their gold into smoke, but that he was the first 
 one who had turned smoke into gold." The well-known 
 gallantry of this same Raleigh in spreading his new vel- 
 vet cloak over the muddy walk for his royal mistress to 
 tread upon, not only secured him many new cloaks, but 
 the powerful patronage of the queen. 
 
 It was to Queen Elizabeth that the poet Spenser dedi- 
 cated his poetical muse, and in his "Faerie Queene" he 
 celebrated and exalted his sovereign. But the greatest 
 name of her reign, and the one which has shed the bright- 
 est and most lasting lustre upon the Elizabethan age, was 
 the illustrious Shakespeare. It is stated that the "Merry 
 Wives of Windsor" was composed by order of Queen 
 Elizabeth, who, having been pleased with Falstaff, in the 
 play of " Henry IV.," desired to see more of him. It is 
 
182 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 supposed that between 1590 and 1603 Shakespeare pro- 
 duced the plays of " Venus and Adonis,-' " Two Gentle- 
 men of Verona," " Love's Labor Lost," "Taming of the 
 Shrew," "Henry IV., V., VI. and VIII.," "Midsum- 
 mer-Night's Dream," "Hamlet," " Richard II. and III.," 
 " Romeo and Juliet," " King John," " As You Like It," 
 "Merchant of Venice," "All's Well that Ends Well," 
 "Much Ado About Nothing," and "Merry Wives of 
 Windsor"; and before 1606: " Troilus and Cressida," 
 "Othello," "Twelfth Night," "Measure for Measure," 
 "Comedy of Errors," " King Lear," and "Macbeth." 
 So that nearly all of these works appeared in the reign of 
 Elizabeth, who died in 1603. 
 
 Elizabeth's contest against Philip II. of Spain, in assist- 
 ing the Dutch in their war against Spanish tyranny, was 
 one of the most illustrious of her foreign enterprises. In 
 this war of liberty against despotism, Elizabeth's bravest 
 commanders and most accomplished courtiers distinguished 
 themselves. 
 
 The two conflicting opinions regarding the character and 
 reign of Elizabeth are thus ably stated by an illustrious 
 writer: "Almost from our infancy we have a general 
 impression that her reign is distinguished as one of the 
 most memorable in history ; and at a later period we hear 
 of the ' Elizabethan age ' as equally illustrious in the 
 annals of our literature. Her wisdom, her courage, her 
 prudence and her patriotism, her unconquerable spirit, her 
 excellent laws and vigilant government, her successes at 
 home and abroad, her wars and alliances with the greatest, 
 and most powerful princes of her time, the magnificent 
 position which England maintained in her reign as the 
 stronghold of the reformed religion, her own grandeur 
 as the guardian of the Protestants and the arbitress of 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 183 
 
 Europe, her magnanimous stand in defence of the na- 
 tional faith and independence when the Spanish Armada 
 was defeated in 1588 ; the long list of great men, war- 
 riors, statesmen, and poets, who sustained her throne, who 
 graced her court, obeyed her slightest word, lived in her 
 smiles and worshipped as she passed, all these things 
 are familiar to young people almost from the time they 
 can remember, and they leave a strong and magnificent 
 impression on the fancy. As we grow older and become 
 acquainted with the particular details of history, we begin 
 to perceive with surprise that this splendid array of great 
 names and great achievements has another and a far dif- 
 ferent aspect. On looking nearer we behold on the throne 
 of England a woman whose avarice and jealousy, whose 
 envious, relentless, and malignant spirit, whose coarse 
 manners and violent temper render her contemptible. 
 "We see England, the country of freedom, ruled as abso- 
 lutely as any Turkish province by this imperious sultana 
 and her grand vizier, Buiieigh ; we see human blood 
 poured out like water on the scaffold, and persecution, 
 torture, and even death again inflicted for the sake of 
 religion ; we see great men, whose names are the glory 
 of their country, pining in neglect, and a base, unworthy 
 favorite revelling in power. We read and learn these 
 things with astonishment ; we find it difficult to reconcile 
 such apparent contradictions." 
 
 Such are the difficulties which meet us in the study of 
 the reign of Queen Elizabeth ; but a close study of the 
 contradictions in the character of Elizabeth herself will 
 partly solve the seeming myster} 7 . Elizabeth possessed 
 great and heroic traits of character, but these were joined 
 to such a pitiably weak, jealous, and treacherous nature as 
 to make her an anomaly in the history of the world. She 
 
184 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 lived in an illustrious age, fraught with some of the most 
 momentous events in the annals of time ; in a century 
 star-studded with the lustrous names of genius, whose 
 immortal fame has shed a reflex glory on her reign. 
 Interests vital to the progress of humanity teemed and 
 surged around her throne, and lifted her glory high on the 
 topmost crests of the glistening waves of the on-rushing 
 ocean of enlightened civilization and religious liberty. 
 
 Hentzner, the German traveller, who visited England 
 in 1599, thus describes Elizabeth's court four years pre- 
 vious to her death : 
 
 "The presence-chamber was hung with rich tapestry, 
 and the floor, after the English fashion, strewn with hay, 
 through which the queen commonly passed on her way to 
 chapel. At the door stood a gentleman dressed in velvet, 
 with a gold chain, whose office was to introduce to the 
 queen any person of distinction who came to wait upon 
 her. It was Sunday, when there was usually the greatest 
 attendance of nobility. In the same hall were the Arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury, the Bishop of London, a great 
 number of councillors of state, officers of the crown, and 
 gentlemen who waited the queen's coming out, which she 
 did from her own apartment when it was time to go to 
 pra}'ers, attended in the following manner : first went 
 gentlemen, barons, earls, Knights of the Garter, all richly 
 dressed and bareheaded ; next came the chancellor, bear- 
 ing the seals in a red silk purse, between two, one of 
 which carried the royal sceptre, the other the sword of 
 state in a red scabbard studded with golden fleur-de-lys, 
 the point upward. 
 
 " Next came the queen, in the sixty-sixth year of her 
 age, as we were told, very majestic ; her face oblong, fair, 
 but wrinkled ; her eyes small, yet black and pleasant ; her 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 185 
 
 nose a little hooked, her lips narrow and her teeth black 
 (a defect the English seem subject to, from their too 
 great use of sugar). She had in her ears two pearls, with 
 very rich drops ; she wore false hair, an& that red ; upon 
 her head she had a small crown, reported to be made of 
 some of the gold of the celebrated Lunebourg table. Her 
 bosom was uncovered, as all the English ladies have it till 
 they marry, and she had on a necklace of exceeding fine 
 jewels. Her hands were small, her fingers long, and her 
 stature neither tall nor low ; her air was stately, her man- 
 ner of speaking mild and obliging. That day she was 
 dressed in white silk, bordered with pearls of the size of 
 beans, and over it a mantle of black silk, shot with silver 
 thre'ads ; her train was very long, the end of it borne by a 
 marchioness. Instead of a chain she had a collar of gold 
 and jewels. As she went along in all this state and mag- 
 nificence, she spoke very graciously, first to one, then to 
 another, in English, French, and Italian ; for besides 
 being well skilled in Greek, Latin, and the languages I 
 have mentioned, she is mistress of Spanish, Scotch, and 
 Dutch. Whoever speaks to her it is kneeling ; now and 
 then she raises some with her hand. Wherever she turned 
 her face as she was going along eveiybod}* fell down on 
 their knees. The ladies of the court followed next to 
 her, very handsome and well shaped, and for the most 
 part dressed in white. She was guarded on each side by 
 the gentlemen pensioners, fifty in number, with gilt battle- 
 axes. In the ante-chapel, next the hall, where we were, 
 petitions were presented to her, and she received them 
 most graciously, which occasioned the acclamation of 
 4 Long live Queen Elizabeth ! ' ' 
 
 But while the queen was still at service in the chapel, 
 her table was set out with the following solemnity : 
 
186 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 "A gentleman entered the room, bearing a rod, and 
 along with him another, who had a table-cloth, which, 
 after they had both kneeled three times with the utmost 
 veneration, he spread upon the table, and after kneeling 
 again they both retired. Then came two others, one with 
 the rod again, the other with a salt-cellar, a plate, and 
 bread ; when they had kneeled as the others had done, 
 and placed what was brought upon the table, they too 
 retired, with the same ceremonies performed by the first. 
 At last came an unmarried lady (we were told she was a 
 countess), and along with her a married one, bearing a 
 tasting knife ; the former was dressed in white silk, who, 
 when she had prostrated herself three times in the most 
 graceful manner, approached the table and rubbecT the 
 plates with bread and salt, with as much awe as if the 
 queen had been present. When they had waited there a 
 little while, the yeomen of the guard entered, bareheaded, 
 clothed in scarlet, with a golden rose upon their backs, 
 bringing in at each turn a course of twenty- four dishes, 
 served in plate, most of it gilt ; these dishes were received 
 by a gentleman in the same order they were brought, and 
 placed upon the table, while the lady-taster gave to each 
 of the guard a mouthful to eat of the particular dish he 
 had brought, for fear of any poison. During the time 
 that this guard, which consists of the tallest and 
 stoutest men that can be found in all England, being 
 carefully selected for this service, were bringing dinner, 
 twelve trumpets and two kettle-drums made the hall ring 
 for half an hour together. 
 
 "At the end of all this ceremonial a number of unmar- 
 ried ladies appeared, who, with particular solemnity, lifted 
 the meat off the table, and conveyed it into the queen's 
 inner and more private chamber, where, after she had 
 
MARY, QUEEN' OF SCOTS. 187 
 
 chosen for herself, the rest goes to the ladies of the court. 
 The queen dines and sups alone, with very few attend- 
 ants ; and it is very seldom that anybody, foreign or 
 native, is admitted at that time, and then only at the 
 intercession of some person in power." 
 
 This same traveller, Hentzner, states " that he 
 counted on London bridge no less than three hundred 
 heads of persons who had been executed for high treason." 
 Surely a lamentable evidence of Elizabeth's cruelty. 
 
 J. R. Green, M. A., in his "History, of the English 
 People," thus sketches the character of Queen Elizabeth : - 
 
 ' ' Her moral temper recalled in its strange contrasts the 
 mixed blood within her veins. She was at once the 
 daughter of Henry and Anne Boleyn. From her father 
 she inherited her frank and hearty address, her love of 
 popularity and of free intercourse with the people, her 
 dauntless courage, her amazing self-confidence. Her 
 harsh, man-like voice, her impetuous will, her pride, her 
 furious outbursts of anger, came to her with her Tudor 
 blood. She rated great nobles as if they were school- 
 boys ; she met the insolence of Essex with a box on the 
 ear ; she would break, now and then, into the gravest 
 deliberations, to swear at her ministers like a fish-wife. 
 
 "But strangely in contrast with the violent outlines of 
 her Tudor temper stood the sensuous, self-indulgent 
 nature she derived from Anne Boleyn. Splendor and 
 pleasure were with Elizabeth the very air she breathed. 
 Her delight was to move in perpetual progresses from 
 castle to castle through a series of gorgeous pageants, 
 fanciful and extravagant as a caliph's dream. She loved 
 gayety and laughter and wit. A happy retort or a 
 finished compliment never failed to win her favor. She 
 hoarded jewels. Her dresses were innumerable. Her 
 
188 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 vanity remained even to old age, the vanity of a coquette 
 in her teens. No adulation was too fulsome for her, no 
 flattery of her beauty too gross. She would play with 
 her rings, that her courtiers might note the delicacj" of her 
 hands ; or dance a coranto, that the French ambassador, 
 hidden dexterously behind a curtain, might report her 
 sprightliness to his master. Her levity, her frivolous 
 laughter, her unwomanly jests, gave color to a thousand 
 scandals. Her character, in fact, like her portraits, was 
 utterly without shade. Of womanly reserve or self-re- 
 straint she knew nothing. No instinct of delicacy veiled 
 the voluptuous temper which had broken out in the romps 
 of her girlhood, and showed itself almost ostentatiously 
 throughout her later life. Personal beauty in a man was 
 a sure passport to her liking. She patted handsome 
 young squires on the neck when they knelt to kiss her 
 hand, and fondled her ' sweet Robin,' Lord Leicester, 
 in the face of the court. 
 
 ' ' It was no wonder that the statesmen whom she out- 
 witted held Elizabeth almost to the last to be little more 
 than a frivolous woman. But the Elizabeth whom thev 
 saw was far from being all of Elizabeth. The wilfulriess 
 of Henry, the triviality of Anne Boleyn, played over the 
 surface of a nature hard as steel, a temper purely intel- 
 lectual, the very type of reason untouched by imagination 
 or passion. Luxurious and pleasure-loving as she seemed, 
 Elizabeth lived simply and frugall}-, and she worked hard. 
 Her vanity and caprice .had no weight whatever with her 
 state affairs. The coquette of the presence-chamber 
 became the coolest and hardest of politicians at the 
 council-board. Fresh from the flattery of her courtiers, 
 she would tolerate no flattery in the closet ; she was her- 
 self plain and downright of speech with her councillors, 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 189 
 
 and she looked for a corresponding plainness of speech in 
 return. Her expenditure was parsimonious, and even 
 miserly. If any trace of her sex lingered in her actual 
 statesmanship, it was seen in the simplicity and tenacity 
 of purpose that often underlie a woman's fluctuations of 
 feeling. It was this in part which gave her her marked 
 superiority over the statesmen of her time. No nobler 
 group of ministers ever gathered round a council-board 
 than those who gathered round the council-board of 
 Elizabeth. But she is the instrument of none. She 
 listens, she weighs, she uses or puts by the counsels of 
 each in turn, but her polic}~ as a whole is her own. It 
 was a policy, not of genius, but of good sense. 
 Of political wisdom, indeed, in its larger and more gen- 
 erous sense, Elizabeth had little or none ; but her political 
 tact was unerring. It was a policy of detail, and in 
 details her wonderful readiness and ingenuity found scope 
 for their exercise. She played with grave cabinets as a 
 cat plays with a mouse, and with much of the same feline 
 delight in the mere embarrassment of her victims. 
 
 "Had Elizabeth written the story of her reign, she 
 would have prided herself, not on the triumph of England 
 or the ruin of Spain, but on the skill with which she had 
 hoodwinked and outwitted every statesman in Europe dur- 
 ing fifty years. Nor was her trickery without political 
 value. Nothing is more revolting in the queen, but noth- 
 ing is more characteristic, than her shameless mendacity. 
 It was an age of political lying, but in the profusion and 
 recklessness of her lies Elizabeth stood without a peer in 
 Christendom. A falsehood was to her simply an intel- 
 lectual means of meeting a difficulty. 
 
 " She had a quick eye for merit of any sort, and a won- 
 derful power of enlisting its whole energy in her service. 
 
190 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 Her success, indeed, in securing from the beginning of 
 her reign to its end, with the single exception of Leicester, 
 precisely the right men for the work she set them to do, 
 sprang in great measure from the noblest characteristic 
 of her intellect. 
 
 " Elizabeth could talk poetry with Spenser and philos- 
 ophy with Bruno ; she could discuss euphuism with Lyly, 
 and enjoy the chivalry of Essex ; she could turn from talk 
 of the latest fashions, to pore with Cecil over despatches 
 and treasury books ; she could pass from tracking traitors 
 with Walsingham, to settle points of doctrine with Parker, 
 or to calculate with Frobisher the chances of a northwest 
 passage to the Indies. The versatility and many-sided- 
 ness of her mind enabled her to understand every phase 
 of the intellectual movement of her day, and to fix by a 
 sort of instinct on its higher representatives. But the 
 greatness of the queen rests above all on her power over 
 her people. We have had grander and nobler rulers, but 
 none so popular as Elizabeth. It was only on her intel- 
 lectual side that Elizabeth touched the England of her 
 day. All its moral aspects were simply dead to her. 
 She made her market with equal indifference out of the 
 heroism of William of Orange or the bigotry of Philip. 
 The noblest aims and lives were only counters on her 
 board. No woman ever lived who was so destitute of 
 the sentiment of religion. While the world around her 
 was being swayed more and more by theological beliefs 
 and controversies, Elizabeth was absolutely untouched by 
 them." 
 
 For nineteen long years Queen Elizabeth kept the beau- 
 tiful Mary, Queen of Scots, in captivity, without right or 
 reason, Mary Stuart's defenders declare ; but Elizabeth's 
 upholders claim that Mary was guilty of many plots 
 against the English Queen. 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 191 
 
 It is almost impossible to tread the mazy paths of this 
 epoch with impartial glance and unbiassed opinions. The 
 writers on both sides of these knotty questions are able 
 and apparently conscientious. We can but state both 
 sides, and leave the reader to form his or her own opinion. 
 
 That Mary, Queen of Scots, could have been subjected 
 to all the terrible trials and awful accusations which fell 
 upon her seemingly defenceless head and still be entirely 
 innocent of the crimes alleged against her, is quite possi- 
 ble, considering her peculiar situation and the selfish 
 hatred of her enemies ; yet those who believe in her guilt 
 bring forth very strong evidence to prove that she con- 
 nived at murder, and willingly gave herself into the power 
 of the murderer. 
 
 This seems too atrocious to claim regarding a woman 
 of the otherwise winning and kindly character of Mary, 
 Queen of Scots. When two entire nations, and one of 
 them governed by a keen-witted, dissembling, and weakly- 
 jealous queen, are joined to destroy one poor helpless 
 woman, and that woman a prisoner in the hands of her 
 enemies, with spies at every keyhole and adversaries on 
 every side, hoping to raise themselves to power by her 
 destruction, it is hardly to be wondered at that evidence 
 can be found or forged which shall aid them in over- 
 whelming her in ruin and at length in death. 
 
 Either Mary, Queen of Scots, stands forth in history 
 as the most diabolical instance of hypocritical innocence 
 cloaking the blackest of infamy which the world affords, 
 for she was too enlightened to be excused as a Cleo- 
 patra, and too apparently an embodiment of womanly 
 loveliness and gentleness to be shunned as a Catherine de' 
 Medici, and therefore all the more dangerous and insid- 
 ious a tempter to lead others to hideous crimes ; or she 
 
192 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 was the most pathetic and helpless victim of the most 
 nefarious intrigues, which seemingly none but the devils 
 in Hades could have originated and carried out, to 
 the lasting disgrace of civilized and so-called Christian 
 nations, and the indelible dishonor of the heartless sover- 
 eign who abetted and consummated such an atrocious 
 crime. 
 
 Either Mary, Queen of Scots, or Elizabeth, Queen of 
 England, must be stamped with disgrace and even in- 
 famy ; or both of them were victims in the hands of fiend- 
 ish aspirants for power, the one, unwillingly, helpless 
 as a prisoner, treacherously betrayed ; the other, willingly, 
 tarnishing her royal glory out of weak jealousy veiled 
 under hypocritical protestations of political policy and 
 unselfish devotion to the welfare of her subjects. 
 
 If Elizabeth was guilty of putting to death an innocent 
 and persecuted kinswoman, who, relying on her avowed 
 declarations of love and friendship, fled to her for safety, 
 only to meet a lingering and dishonorable imprisonment, 
 and an outrageous and ignominious death, at the hands 
 of her who basely professed the tenderest sympathy and 
 sisterly affection, then Mary, Queen of Scots' tragic 
 death is unparalleled in history ; for though other queens 
 have died upon the scaffold, the executioner's hand was 
 not lifted at the command of a near and professedly- 
 devoted relation ; nor did an only son behold his mother's 
 shameful death without raising hand or word to help her ? 
 when that son was a king upon a throne. That Mary 
 Queen of Scots, rightfully claimed the throne of Scotland 
 is beyond dispute ; that she also rightfully claimed her 
 place as successor to Elizabeth for the throne of England, 
 is clearly proven from the fact that her son, James VI. 
 of Scotland, ascended the throne of England, as James 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 193 
 
 I., upon the death of Elizabeth, without any seeming 
 opposition or question of his rights of succession. 
 
 Mary Stuart, queen of Scotland, was born on the 7th 
 of December, 1542, in the palace of Linlithgow. The 
 blood of the two rival claimants of the crown of Scotland, 
 John Baliol and Robert Bruce, mingled in the veins of 
 Mary Stuart. 
 
 " It was the injustice of Henry VIII. 's will in ignoring 
 the descendants of his eldest sister, and placing those of 
 the youngest in the order of the regal succession next his 
 own children, which rendered it expedient for Mary, 
 Queen of Scots, afterwards to obtain a recognition of her 
 rights from Elizabeth, although in point of legitimacy, 
 Mary's lineal title to the throne of England was consid- 
 ered by all the Roman Catholics in Europe, and the 
 people still attached to that communion in England and 
 Ireland, as more valid than that of Elizabeth. Elizabeth 
 had, however, been recognized by the Parliament of Eng- 
 land as the successor of her late sister, Queen Mary I., 
 and solemnly accepted by the realm on the day of her 
 consecration as the sovereign. It was therefore futile to 
 urge in depreciation of her title the stigma which her 
 unnatural father's declaration, her unfortunate mother's 
 admission, and Cranmer's sentence, had combined to pass 
 upon her legitimacy, for, according to the constitutional 
 laws of England, the crown had taken away all defects 
 that might previously have existed. The demand of Mary 
 Stuart to be acknowledged as her successor was in itself 
 the strongest recognition of the unimpugnable nature of 
 Elizabeth's rights, and therefore ought to have been met 
 in a friendly spirit, instead of being repelled in a manner 
 which naturally inspired suspicions in the mind of Mar}', 
 that Elizabeth intended to supersede her legitimate claims 
 
194 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 in favor either of one of the descendants of the youngest 
 sister of Margaret Tudor, or to bring forward the Earl 
 of Huntingdon, great-grandson of George, Duke of 
 Clarence." 
 
 It was poor Mary Stuart's first father-in-law, Henry II. 
 of France, who cost her her head, by prematurely declar- 
 ing her queen of England, in 1559, and it was largely 
 owing to the base treacheries and plots of her second 
 father-in-law, the Earl of Lennox, that the net-work of 
 vile lies, and slanders were spread about her in Scotland, 
 which afterwards so fatally entrapped her, to which the 
 weak and vacillating Darnley lent himself b}' turns, and 
 then repenting, sued for pardon, which the forgiving Mary 
 had no sooner granted, than he was again persuaded by 
 her enemies to betray her. 
 
 In the midst of the labyrinth of conflicting testimonies 
 and evidences, a thread has been found which, following 
 it to its source, leads us to the English court of Elizabeth,' 
 as the first instigator of those infamous lies which so. 
 many historians have claimed to be the truth, and which, 
 if so, must perforce stigmatize the unfortunate Mary, 
 Queen of Scots, as guilty beyond doubt of the terrible 
 crimes of which she was accused. But researches have 
 revealed a deeper-laid scheme than was for a long time 
 imagined, and which, if true, brands the English cabinet, 
 and to some extent Elizabeth herself, as an accessory to 
 that scheme, though we will give her the credit to sup- 
 pose that her aid was gained by keeping her in ignorance 
 of the vileness of the plot, with as great, and even 
 greater infamy, than has ever rested upon the probably 
 guiltless name of the persecuted Queen of Scots. In 
 proof whereof, we will give the statements which bear 
 upon this point in their proper place in the sketch of 
 Mary Stuart's life, as we proceed. 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 195 
 
 " With the exceptions of Queen Elizabeth, Catherine 
 de' Medici, and the Countess of Shrewsbury, Mary had no 
 female enemies. No female witnesses from her household 
 came forward to bear testimony against her when it was 
 out of her power to purchase secrecy, if they had been 
 cognizant of her guilt. None of the ladies of her court, 
 whether of the reformed religion or of the old faith 
 not even Lady Both well herself lifted up her voice to 
 impute blame to her. Mary was attended by noble 
 Scotch gentlewomen in the days of her royal splendor ; 
 they clave to her in adversity, through good report and 
 evil report ; they shared her prisons, they waited upon her 
 on the scaffold, and forsook not her mangled remains till 
 they had seen them consigned to a long-denied tomb." 
 
 Truly such faithful friendships throughout a life of sor- 
 row and continued aspersions against her character speak 
 volumes on the side of Mary's innocence. 
 
 Mary Stuart was but a few days old, when James V., 
 her royal father, died. When Mary was nine months of 
 age the royal ceremonial of her coronation was solemnized. 
 The baby queen was crowned with all the solemnities 
 usual upon the inauguration of the kings of Scotland. 
 The tiny infant w#s wrapped in regal robes, and borne in 
 pompous procession from her nursery into the church 
 where Cardinal Beton placed the ro\'al crown upon her 
 baby brow, and her little fingers were made to clasp the 
 sceptre of state, and she was girded with the famous 
 sword which had been borne by so many warlike monarchs 
 of Scotland. And while prelates and peers knelt before 
 the tiny queen in solemn reverence, and royal princes 
 esteemed it an august honor to kiss her baby cheek, the 
 terrified infant, frightened by all these strange rough men 
 around her, wept. Poor baby queen ! She began hei 
 reign in tears and ended it upon the scaffold. 
 
196 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 When Mary Stuart was five years of age she was be 
 trothed to the Dauphin of France, afterwards Francis II. , 
 and when she was six years old she was sent to France to 
 be educated. She was at this time remarkable for her 
 exquisite loveliness of form and feature and precocious 
 intellect. Four young Scotch girls of high rank had 
 accompanied the tiny queen from her native land, and as 
 they were all named Mary, they were known as the 
 "Queen's Maries." These Scottish maidens were Mary 
 Beton, Mary Seton, Mary Livingston, and Mary Fleming. 
 When in after years one after another of these Maries 
 married and left her service, they were replaced by others 
 bearing the same name, as it was a fancy of the queen 
 always to have four Maries attending her. 
 
 Mary astonished the court of France and all the foreign 
 ambassadors there assembled, when only twelve years of 
 age, by reciting with grace and dignity a Latin oration of 
 her own composition, before the king and a distinguished 
 company. Her essay, written in the style of Cicero, was 
 a plea in behalf of the " capacity of females for the high- 
 est mental acquirements in literature and the fine arts." 
 
 So beautiful was the young queen at this time that, 
 when on Palm Sunday she, with all the princesses and 
 ladies of the court of France, was carrying a palm branch 
 from church, a woman in the crowd was so dazzled with 
 the beauty and heavenly expression of Mary's face, that 
 she knelt at the feet of the child in rapturous admiration, 
 exclaiming, "Are you not indeed an angel? " 
 
 A portrait of Mary Stuart, formerly in the royal gallery 
 at Fontainebleau, represents her in her fourteenth year. 
 " The color of her hair and eyes which has been as much 
 disputed as the question of her guilt or innocence, is of 
 that rich tint of brown called by the French chestnut ; so 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 197 
 
 are her beautiful eyebrows. Her complexion is clear and 
 delicate, but somewhat pale, her nose straight, and her 
 features lovely, refined, and intellectual. She wears a 
 white satin Scotch cap, placed very low on one side of her 
 head, with a rosette of white ostrich feathers, having in 
 the centre a ruby brooch, round which is wrought in gold 
 letters Marice Regince Scotorum. From this depends a 
 drooping plume formed of small pendant pearls. Her 
 dress is of white damask, fitting closely to her shape, with 
 a small partlet ruff of scalloped point lace, supported by a 
 collar of sapphires and rubies ; a girdle of gems to corres- 
 pond encircles her waist. The dress is made without 
 plaits, gradually widening towards the feet in the shape 
 of a bell, and is fastened down the front with medallions 
 of pearls and precious stones. A royal mantle of pure 
 white is attached to the shoulders of her dress, trimmed 
 with point lace. Her sleeves are rather full, parted with 
 strings of pearls, and finished with small ruffles and jew- 
 elled bracelets. Her hands are exquisitely formed. She 
 rests one on the back of a crimson velvet fauteuil, em- 
 blazoned with the royal Jleurs-de-tys ; in the other she 
 holds an embroidered handkerchief. The arms of Scot- 
 land, siugl}', are displayed in a maiden lozenge on the 
 wall above her, for Mary was not yet la Reine Dauphine. 
 She was at that time caressingly called by Catherine de' 
 Medici and the royal children of France, notre petite Rei- 
 nette d'Escosse, and was the pet and idol of the glittering 
 court of Valois. ' Our petite Reinette Escossaise,' said 
 Catherine de' Medici, ' has but to smile to turn the heads 
 of all Frenchmen.' " 
 
 When Mary Stuart was in her sixteenth year she was 
 married. to the Dauphin, Francis, who was then fifteen 
 years of age. The nuptial ceremonies and festivities 
 
198 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 were magnificent in the extreme. Never had the famous 
 portals of N6tre Dame received so lovely a bride. Her 
 appearance is thus described : 
 
 " She was dressed in a robe whiter than the lily, but 
 so glorious in its fashion and decorations, that it would 
 be difficult, nay impossible, for any pen to do justice to 
 its details. Her regal mantle and train were of bluish- 
 grey 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 
 young ladies. Mary wore a ro3*al crown on this occasion 
 far more costly than any previous Scottish monarch could 
 ever boast, composed of the finest gold and most ex- 
 quisite workmanship, set with diamonds, pearls, rubies, 
 and emeralds of inestimable worth, having in the cen- 
 tre a pendent stone computed at five hundred thousand 
 crowns. About her neck hung a matchless jewel, sus- 
 pended by chains of precious stones, which, from its 
 description, must have been none other than that well 
 known in Scottish records by the familiar name of the 
 Great Harry. This was her own personal property, de- 
 rived from her royal English great-grandfather, Henry 
 VII. , by whom it was presented to her grandmother, 
 Queen Margaret Tudor." N6tre Dame blazed with lights, 
 dazzling jewels, and grande toilettes. As the ceremony 
 was concluded, Mary greeted her husband as Francis I., 
 king of Scotland ; and all the Scottish nobles bent in 
 homage to him. Handfuls of gold and silver coin were 
 then thrown in the midst of the assembled crowds of 
 people, while French heralds proclaimed the marriage, 
 and cried, "Largesse, largesse!" and the royal couple 
 received the titles of " Queen-Dauphiness," and "The 
 King Dauphin." 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 199 
 
 Magnificent banquets, gorgeous balls, and splendid 
 pageants succeeded the marriage ceremonies in the 
 church. The royal palace was decorated with superb 
 splendor and regal lavishness of display. At the grand 
 ball the beautiful bride, the dazzling queen of Scotland, 
 danced the stately pavon^ a kind of minuet, which was 
 performed by ladies alone. As her train was twelve 
 yards long, and was borne after her by a gentleman, fol- 
 lowing her in the dance, it was a difficult exercise of 
 grace and skill for the young bride to achieve. After the 
 dance, a novel pageant took place in the grand salon. 
 Suddenly there issued from the Chamber of Requests six 
 gallant ships, with sails of silver gauze fastened to silver 
 masts. Seated on the deck of each vessel, which was 
 propelled by artificial means, was a prince attired in 
 cloth of gold. Each handsome prince wore a mask ; and 
 as the ship sailed by the groups of ladies, the chivalrous 
 knight seized a maiden and placed her on the gorgeous 
 throne beside him. In this exciting game the Dauphin 
 caught his bride, the lovely Mary Stuart. But Prince de 
 Cond4, champion of the Huguenots, caused great merri- 
 ment by capturing, as his lady, the wife of his opponent 
 of Romish faith, the Duke de Guise. 
 
 The death of Mary I., queen of England, in 1558, 
 opened the way for the fatal step of Henry II. of France, 
 regarding his royal daughter-in-law, the queen of Scot- 
 land. At a grand tournament held in honor of the mar- 
 riage of Elizabeth of France with Philip II. of Spain, 
 Mary, queen of Scotland, was borne to her place in the 
 royal balcony on a kind of triumphal car, emblazoned 
 with the royal escutcheon of England and Scotland, while 
 she was preceded by heralds who cried, ' ' Place I place i 
 pour la Reine d'Angleterre ! " And as the people took up 
 
200 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 the cry, " Vive la Reine d' Angleterre I " they little imag- 
 ined that they were sounding the death-knell of the lovely 
 wife of their dauphin, whom the}' all adored. It was the 
 assumption of this title at this time which, twenty-seven 
 years afterwards, cost Mary Stuart her life. 
 
 But marriage pageants, funeral obsequies, and corona- 
 tions followed each other in quick succession. At the 
 very marriage tournament when Henry II. of France had 
 caused his royal daughter-in-law to be proclaimed queen 
 of England, he met with an accident which resulted in his 
 death. Manx's husband was thereupon crowned king as 
 Francis II. of France. But in less than a year after his 
 coronation, Francis breathed his last, and the beautiful 
 Scottish queen was left a widow. That Mary Stuart was 
 a devoted wife to her French husband, all concede ; and 
 Charles IX., brother of Francis, has left this pathetic 
 testimony to her worth. Whenever Charles IX. looked 
 upon Mary's portrait, he would exclaim : "Ah, Francis ! 
 happy brother ! Though }-our life and reign were so 
 short, you were to be envied in this, that you were the 
 possessor of that angel and the object of her love ! " 
 
 Mary, Queen of Scots, returned to her native land after 
 the death of her husband, Francis II., and at this point 
 Elizabeth's injustice begins. Mary sent a courteous request 
 to the queen of England, that she should be allowed to 
 pass to her own kingdom through her cousin's domains ; 
 but this was ungraciously refused. After Mary, Queen of 
 Scots, reached Scotland and assumed royal power there, 
 she was immediately beset by suitors for her hand. The 
 King of Sweden, Philip II. of Spain, and the Archduke 
 Charles, son of the Emperor of Germany, all sued for her 
 hand, the former and latter in their own behalf, while 
 Philip of Spain desired an alliance between Mary and his 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 201 
 
 heir, Don Carlos. As these three princes had been previ- 
 ous suitors to the English queen, Elizabeth never forgave 
 the insult, and vented all her spite of wounded vanity upon 
 the poor Queen of Scots. Then followed the schemes and 
 intrigues regarding the marriage of the Scottish queen ; 
 Elizabeth claiming that she had no right to marry any one 
 whom she (Elizabeth) did not approve. At length Mary 
 took the matter into her own hands ; and being really in 
 love with the handsome Darnley, her cousin, who had 
 thus far veiled his weak and vicious nature beneath his 
 courtly manners and attractive face, this unfortunate 
 marriage was consummated, and Mary Stuart became the 
 hapless victim of her many enemies. 
 
 We cannot recount the details of the many trials 
 heaped upon her by her weak and unworthy husband and 
 his intriguing father, joined with Scottish noblemen, who 
 desired her ruin because she was a Catholic. These earls 
 were not actuated by any fervent zeal in upholding the 
 Protestant religion ; but as Scotland was then professedly 
 a Protestant nation, these wily nobles used the prevailing 
 opinions of the people to further their own ambitious 
 schemes. And in denouncing Mary as a Catholic, and 
 urging that she be dethroned, that her infant son might 
 be declared king, they were simply endeavoring to grasp 
 the reins of government with their own hands. These 
 Scottish noblemen were leagued with the English court ; 
 but Bothwell headed another faction, which explains the 
 seeming difficulty in regard to her being still imprisoned 
 b}~ the very party who rescued her from Bothwell's power, 
 and from whom she was obliged to flee to England, to seek 
 the promised protection of the English queen. 
 
 With her last dying breath, Queen Elizabeth, perchance 
 unwittingly, substantiated her own treachery, or that of 
 
202 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 the English cabinet, and acknowledged the rights of 
 Mary, Queen of Scots. When urged to name her suc- 
 cessor, she said, " My seat has been the seat of kings, and 
 I will have no rascal to succeed me." Secretary Cecil 
 ventured to ask her what she meant by those significant 
 words ; to which she replied, thereby intimating that all 
 who were not royal princes were perforce rascals, "I will 
 be succeeded by a king, and who should that be but the 
 King of Scots." 
 
 In spite of the subtle schemes and wily plotting of the 
 most cunning, keen-witted, and unscrupulous courtiers of 
 those wide-awake and intellectually progressive times, all 
 of them bent upon the destruction of one helpless, im- 
 prisoned woman, whose very charms and fascinations and 
 confiding faith in good rather than evil motives, were 
 used by them as the very evidence to convict her of in- 
 famous guilt ; whereas, these traits of character are the 
 strongest proof of her innocence ; in spite of all their 
 evil machinations, aided by the jealous vanity of a queen 
 who in other respects evinced a strong mind, and whose 
 reign is regarded as one of the brightest epochs in the 
 world's history ; in spite of all these overwhelming forces 
 conspiring to defame and destroy the hapless Queen of 
 Scots, nevertheless, our higher instincts of humanity 
 intuitively plead for the innocence of this unfortunate 
 Queen Mary, even though, by that very conclusion, we 
 must perforce tarnish the gloiy of the illustrious Queen 
 of England. For Elizabeth's acknowledged defects of 
 character harmonize more strongly with such a suppo- 
 sition, than that we should, without violence to our better 
 intuitions, allow that it could be consistent to link with 
 infamy and crime Mary's equally acknowledged loveliness 
 and kindliness of nature, and devout constancy to what 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 203 
 
 she felt to be vital points in her Christian faith, while at 
 the same time she allowed the most generous liberality of 
 belief to others. For of Mary, Queen of Scots, alone it 
 could be said, what no other sovereign of those days 
 could claim, that she never permitted persecution for re- 
 ligious differences. 
 
 That Elizabeth could be dissembling and treacherous 
 when actuated by her weak, jealous vanity, all historians 
 fully prove and frankly acknowledge ; that Elizabeth 
 scrupled not even at the death of her former friends, 
 when her petty spite was kindled against them, other 
 instances, such as the execution of the Earl of Essex, 
 whom without doubt Elizabeth loved, yet in a fit of anger 
 condemned to death, most clearly demonstrate. But that 
 Mary, Queen of Scots, could display such traits of char- 
 acter, as all testimony, whether that of friends or foes, 
 are forced to concede to her through long years of im- 
 prisonment, while still at heart she was the infamous 
 spirit of evil which her accusers have declared her to be, 
 a very devil clothed in the likeness of an angel of Para- 
 dise, is against all experiences of human nature, against 
 all analogous instances in history. 
 
 The question of Mary Stuart's guilt or innocence re- 
 garding the murder of Darnley and willing marriage with 
 Bothwell, is one thing ; but the question of Mary Stuart's 
 political intrigues with Elizabeth's enemies is entirely 
 another thing. As regards Mary Stuart's connivance 
 with her Catholic party during her long imprisonment in 
 England, it is not necessary that she should be proven 
 innocent of such charges to insure her innocence of the 
 horrible infamy regarding the murder of Darnley and 
 willing marriage with his murderer. Were she guilty of 
 these nefarious crimes, all others however black and vil- 
 
204 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 lanous would be probable. But her innocence regarding 
 those blood}* deeds would not be impeached by political in- 
 trigues to obtain her rightful liberty. Political scheming 
 was the governmental policy of the times, and he or she 
 who could be the most wily and intriguing diplomats was 
 looked upon as one who had achieved the greatest stroke 
 of genius. Surely in this business none were such adepts 
 as Elizabeth. That Mary Suart would plot in behalf of 
 her Catholic belief would not prove that she was capable 
 of the vilest crimes. And though one should frankly 
 acknowledge that the death of Mary, Queen of Scots, was 
 an advantage to the cause of Protestantism, by weaken- 
 ing Catholicism in Scotland and England, it would not 
 consequently be necessary to prove that her death was 
 the evidence of any crime on her part, save the insatiate 
 thirst for power, and consequent scheming and plotting 
 therefor, of which none of the sovereigns of her time 
 could be said to be guiltless. 
 
 Three things are asserted by those who condemn Mary, 
 Queen of the Scots : that she was guilty of murder, and 
 the vilest crimes of which a woman's nature can be ac- 
 cused ; that she was guilty of political intrigues as a 
 Catholic fanatic in behalf of her Roman faith ; or that 
 she was without any religious belief, merely employing 
 religion as a cloak to her crimes. Now, of course, if she 
 were guilty of the first accusation, no one could attempt 
 to deny the others ; but though she were guilty of both the 
 last accusations, it would not imply that, therefore, she 
 was necessarily guilty of murder and revolting pollution. 
 
 The historians who defend Mary, Queen of Scots, claim 
 that she was innocent, not only of connivance at murder 
 and infamous vice, but that she was also free from all 
 political intrigues, either in defence of her ambitious 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 205 
 
 greed for power, or in upholding her religious fanaticism ; 
 while the historians who denounce Mary Stuart declare 
 that she was guilty of all and every crime, both as wife, 
 woman, and fanatic intriguer. From a close comparison 
 of given evidence on both sides, the truth would seem to 
 lie between them ; for the proofs seem the stronger which 
 free Mary, Queen of Scots, of connivance at murder, and 
 vile pollution, while probabilities lean toward the suppo- 
 sition that she knew of, if she did not indeed encourage, 
 plots amongst the enemies of England ; but as she was 
 unjustly imprisoned by the English, this was only polit- 
 ical scheming ; and though it might cost her her head, 
 from political expediency, it is no proof at all that she 
 was therefore guilty also of the most shocking and inex- 
 piable corruption. The plea of that political expediency 
 would of course remove infamy from the English cabinet 
 and their sovereign, as regards the one act of decapitat- 
 ing their dangerous prisoner ; but at the same time, the 
 same plea of political expedienc}* would excuse the plot- 
 ting of Mary, Queen of Scots, while her substantiated 
 innocence of the viler and more heinous crimes brought 
 against her character as a wife and a woman, would at 
 the same time heap upon the English government and 
 Elizabeth the deepest and most demoniacal infamy, in 
 conniving at such atrocious and brutal lies against the 
 character and purity of a helpless woman, that they 
 might strengthen their political schemes against her life. 
 
 The question of the effect of her downfall upon the 
 world, as regards the upholding of Protestantism, and the 
 check to the onrush of inquisitorial Catholicism, is a very 
 different matter from the question regarding her innocence 
 as a wife and a woman. 
 
 That her downfall strengthened Protestantism will be 
 
206 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 conceded; and that her death from political expediency 
 might have been required may not be denied ; which 
 concession would not blot out the treachery of Elizabeth 
 and her ministers, nor would it involve the acknowledg- 
 ment of Mary Stuart's guilt of aught save political plot- 
 ting, which, had she been the queen on the throne rather 
 than the queen in the prison, would have been looked 
 upon as justifiable strategy. 
 
 There is no doubt that the quarrel of Henry VIII. with 
 the Pope and Romish Church was a great factor in the 
 glorious struggle for religious liberty, and the strengthen- 
 ing of the power of the Reformation, which has filled not 
 only Europe, but the world, with the effulgent light of a 
 broader Christian civilization. But God can make the 
 " very wrath of man to praise him," and because Henry 
 VIII. was an unconscious and unwilling instrument in the 
 hands of the Almighty, the praise is not to the wicked 
 king, but to an overruling Providence. 
 
 If Mary Stuart died for her religion, even though that 
 faith was Catholicism, Protestantism must not fanatically 
 refuse her the martyr's crown. But if Mary Stuart and 
 Elizabeth were both women utterty devoid of religious 
 principle, and this Elizabeth's warmest admirers declare 
 concerning herself, as well as Mary Stuart, then were 
 these two women engaged in one of the most subtle, 
 ingenious, and well-matched political games which was 
 ever played upon the stage of history ; and in this game, 
 Elizabeth showed herself to be the most cunning schemer 
 who ever wore a victor's crown, while Mary Stuart dis- 
 played the most heroic and unconquerable fortitude ever 
 evinced by dying gladiator when vanquished in the Roman 
 amphitheatre. 
 
 Unless volumes were written upon the subject, it would 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 207 
 
 be an impossibility to give a clear recital of the state- 
 ments made by the partisans and defamers of Mary 
 Stuart. According to one side, the famous " Silver- 
 casket Letters " are proved by acts of the Scottish 
 Parliament and many eminent authorities to have been 
 forgeries ; and the whole scheme of Rizzio's and Darn- 
 ley's murder to have been concocted in the English cab- 
 inet. According to other acts of Parliament and other 
 eminent authorities, the famous "Silver-casket Letters" 
 are pronounced genuine and convincing proofs of Mary's 
 guilt of conniving at Darnley's murder, and most shame- 
 lessly marrying his murderer. 
 
 Now if the " Casket Letters" are genuine, there indeed 
 remains no doubt of Mary's guilt. But if the act of the 
 Scottish Parliament, framed Dec. 20, 1567, for Bothwell's 
 forfeiture, which act of Parliament was signed by James 
 Makgill, clerk -register (and which document, it is stated, 
 may be consulted in the register-house, Edinburgh, in the 
 original Latin), be genuine, the "Casket Letters" must 
 be spurious, and Mary's innocence would be proved. It is 
 only upon these " Silver-casket Letters" that her defamers 
 rest the most important proof of her abetting Darnley's 
 death and marrying Bothwell willingly, knowing that he 
 was her husband's murderer. In these forged letters, 
 Mary is made to plan with Bothwell the death of Darnley, 
 and her own abduction with a man who had not yet pro- 
 cured a divorce from his wife, whom only six months 
 before he had married with the queen's most open con- 
 sent. 
 
 This act of Parliament for the forfeiture of Bothwell 
 and sixty-four of his accomplices, after reciting his mur- 
 der of the "late King Henry," proceeds in these words: 
 " And also for their treasonable interception of the most 
 
208 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 noble person of our most illustrious mother, Mary, Queen 
 of Scots, on her way from Linlithgow to the town of Ed- 
 inburgh, near the bridges vulgarly called ' Foul Bridges," 
 besetting her with a thousand armed, men, equipped in 
 manner of war, in the month of April last. She sus- 
 pecting no evil from any of her subjects, and least of all 
 from the Earl of Both well, toward whom she had shown 
 as great offers of liberality and benevolence as prince 
 could show to good subject, he by force and violence 
 treasonably seized her most noble person ; put violent 
 hands upon her, not permitting her to enter her own town 
 of Edinburgh in peace, but carried her away that same 
 night to the Castle of Dunbar, against her will ; and there 
 detained her as his prisoner for about twelve days." 
 
 This act of Parliament, after specifying the nefarious 
 crime committed against her, in more explicit language, 
 recites : " That, after detaining Queen Mary's most noble 
 person by force and violence twelve days, or thereabouts, 
 at Dunbar Castle, Both well compelled her by fear, under 
 circumstances such as might befall the most courageous 
 woman in the world, to promise that she would as soon as 
 possible contract marriage with him, all which things 
 were plotted and planned by the said earl and the persons 
 aforesaid, of long time before, even before their aforesaid 
 conspiracy and parricide (the murder of Darnley), not- 
 withstanding that at the same time James, Earl of Both- 
 well, was bound in marriage to an honorable lady, Janet 
 Gordon, from whom not only was he not divorced, but 
 no process of divorce was begun. And in his nefarious 
 and treasonable crimes and purposes continuing and per- 
 severing, he kept and detained the most noble person of 
 our said dearest mother in firm custody and durance, by 
 force and masterful hand of his armed friends and depend- 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 209 
 
 ants, until the sixth day of May last past ; on which day, 
 still accompanied by a great number of armed men, he 
 carried her to the Castle of Edinburgh, which was then in 
 his power, and there imprisoned her, and compelled her 
 to remain until the eleventh of the said month, on which 
 day, still accompanied by a great number of armed men, 
 that he might better color his treasonable and nefarious 
 crimes and purposes, he carried her to our palace of Holy- 
 rood, and so within four days compelled her to contract 
 marriage with him." 
 
 Regarding this act of Parliament, Agnes Strickland, 
 the English historian, says : " The facts chronicled in the 
 parliamentary record, which are officially attested by the 
 signature of James Makgill of Rankeillour, the clerk- 
 register, demonstrate at once the falsehood of his patron, 
 the Earl of Murray's journal, of Buchanan's ' Detec- 
 tion ' and history of Mary's reign, of the absurd paper 
 published by Murray under the name of ' French Paris's 
 Second Confession,' and the supposititious letters pro- 
 duced by Morton for the defamation of the queen. These 
 are all refuted by the act of Parliament, which asserts the 
 treasonable constraint that was put on the queen's will ; 
 and that act, be it remembered, was framed, and more 
 than that, proclaimed by the heralds in the ears of the 
 people, six months after the date assigned by Morton to 
 the discovery of the letters which he produced as evi- 
 dences of a guilty collusion and correspondence between 
 the queen and Bothwell. The act was framed within 
 seven months after the offence was perpetrated ; and it 
 behooved to be correct, because several persons assisted 
 in that Parliament, as Huntley, Lethingtou, Sir James 
 Melville, and others, who were not only present when the 
 abduction was effected, but were carried away with their 
 royal mistress as prisoners to Dunbar." 
 
210 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 Now let it be remembered that these witnesses for her 
 innocence were, with the exception of the faithful Sir 
 James Melville, and perhaps one or two others, no friends 
 of Mar} r , Queen of Scots, but were the very parties in 
 league with the English cabinet for her overthrow; 
 and as Bothwell was not in this league, but was plotting 
 only for his own scheme of being raised to the throne by 
 marriage with Mary Stuart, these framers of this act of 
 Parliament, exonerating Mary and denouncing Bothwell, 
 were not acting through favor of her ; and therefore this 
 strong and overwhelming evidence comes from her very 
 foes. 
 
 The following letter is from Mary Stuart to the Pope 
 when she was at last out of the power of Bothwell. This 
 letter is from the collection of Prince Labanoff : ' ' Lettres de 
 Mane Stuart, from the Secret Archives of the Vatican at 
 Rome," and will reveal Mary's feelings on the subject: 
 " Tell to his Holiness," writes she to her accredited envoy, 
 "the grief we suffered when we were made prisoner by 
 one of our subjects, the Earl of Bothwell, and led as 
 prisoner with the Earl of Huntley the Chancellor, and the 
 nobleman, our Secretary, together to the Castle of Dun- 
 bar, and after to the Castle of Edinburgh, where we were 
 detained against our will in the hands of the said Earl of 
 Bothwell, until such time as he had procured a pretended 
 divorce between him and the sister of the said Lord of 
 Huntlej 7 , his wife, our near relative ; and we were con- 
 strained to yield our consent, yet against our will, to him. 
 Therefore your Holiness is supplicated to take order on 
 this, that we are made quit of the said indignity by means 
 of a process at Rome, and commission sent to Scotland, 
 to the bishops and other Catholic judges as your Holiness 
 seemeth best." 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 211 
 
 On the other hand, Mr. Froude, the English historian, 
 does not refute this act of Parliament, but as evidence of 
 Mary's guilt, which he most vehemently declares, cites 
 another act of Parliament, and states the following: 
 
 "The Parliament met on the loth of December. A 
 series of acts embodying the resolutions of the Council 
 were prepared by the Lords of the Articles, among 
 them were Huntley and Argyle. The abdication of Loch- 
 leven, the coronation of James, and the regency of 
 Murray were successively declared to have been lawful ; 
 and lastly, in an act ; anent the retention of their sov- 
 ereign Lord's mother's person/ the genuineness of the 
 evidence by which her share in the murder was proved 
 was accepted as beyond doubt or question. 
 
 " When the measure was laid before Parliament, Lord 
 Herries, with one or two others, protested, not against 
 the truth of the charges, but ' against an act which was 
 prejudicial to the honor, power, and estate of the Queen.' 
 But their objections were overruled. The acts were 
 passed ; the last and most important declaring that ' the 
 taking of arms by the lords and barons, the apprehension 
 of the queen's person, and generally all other things 
 spoken and done by them to that effect, since the 10th of 
 February last period, were caused by the said queen's 
 own default.' It was most certain, from divers her privy 
 letters, written wholly with her own hand, to the Earl of 
 Both well, and by her ungodly and dishonorable proceed- 
 ing to a pretended marriage with him, that she was privy 
 art and part of the device and deed of the murder, and 
 therefore justly deserved whatever had been done to her. 
 Indirect counsel and means had been used to hold back 
 the knowledge of the truth, yet all men were fully per- 
 suaded in their hearts of the authors and devisers of the 
 
212 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 fact. The nobility perceiving the queen so thrall and so 
 blindly affectionate to the tyrant, and perceiving also that 
 both he and she had conspired together such horrible 
 cruelty, they had at length taken up arras to punish them." 
 
 Surely both of these acts of Parliament cannot be trust- 
 worthy. Froude refers to Anderson's Collection as his 
 authority ; Miss Strickland, to the register-house, Edin- 
 burgh, where the act may be seen in the original Latin. 
 According to one, Mary, Queen of Scots is most clearly 
 proven innocent ; according to the other, Mary is most 
 clearly proven guilty. The question therefore rests on 
 the validity of the two acts. The reader may choose be- 
 tween them. 
 
 Regarding the famous " Silver-casket Letters," these 
 two English authorities thus comment. Miss Strickland 
 says : " Several hundreds of Mary Stuart's genuine letters 
 are now before the public, commencing with those she 
 wrote to her mother in her artless childhood. Not one of 
 these bears the slightest analogy, either in style, senti- 
 ment or diction, with the eight suspicious documents she 
 is alleged to have written. But argument is rendered 
 unnecessary by the fact that the discovery of letters so 
 discrepant with anything ever written, ever said or done, 
 by Mary Stuart, rests solely on the testimony of Morton, 
 one of the conspirators in the murder of Darnley. Prince 
 Labanoff, who has devoted his life to the collection and 
 verification of Mary Stuart's letters, rejects this supposi- 
 titious series, because, as he briefly observes, ' there is 
 nothing to prove their authenticity ' ; while the elder 
 Tytler, who, as a lord of session, or judge, had been 
 accustomed to study and collate evidences in the criminal 
 courts of Scotland, has written two able volumes to ex- 
 pose their fallacies, under the title of ' A Critical Enquiry 
 into the Evidences.' " 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 213 
 
 Dr. Henry, the historian of England and Scotland, 
 gave his private and most impartial opinion on this con- 
 troversy in a letter to William Ty tier, printed in ' ' Trans- 
 actions of Scottish Antiquarian Society," in these words : 
 " I have been long convinced that the unfortunate Queen 
 Mary was basely betrayed and cruelly oppressed during 
 her life, and calumniated after her death. Many things 
 contributed to involve her in difficulties and dangers on 
 her return to Scotland ; her invincible adherence to her 
 religion, her implicit submission to the dictates of her 
 French friends, her having roused the jealousy of 
 Elizabeth by assuming the English arms, the ambition of 
 her brother James, and the faithless, plotting characters 
 of others near her person, in a word, an invisible polit- 
 ical net seemed to have been spread around her, from 
 which it was hardly possible for her to escape. Your 
 efforts, sir, to relieve the memory of a much injured 
 princess from a load of calumny are generous and com- 
 mendable, and I can assure you they have not been 
 unsuccessful. There is a great and general change in the 
 sentiments of the public on that subject. He would be 
 a bold man who should publish a history of Queen Mary 
 now in the same strain with our two late historians, 
 Malcolm Laing and Robertson, whose sophistries were 
 rightly estimated by that clear-headed and honest histo- 
 rian, Dr. Henry. Dr. Johnson, a person of a very 
 different way of thinking from either, pronounced a most 
 decided opinion in favor of Mary's innocence, and ex- 
 pressed his firm conviction ' that the Silver-casket Letters 
 were spurious, and would never again be brought forward 
 as historic evidences." 
 
 Regarding these same " Silver-casket Letters," Froude 
 says : *' These letters were found in the celebrated casket 
 
214 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 with the others to which reference was made in the pre 
 ceding volume ; I accept them as genuine, because, as will 
 be seen, they were submitted to the scrutiny of almost 
 the entire English peerage, and especially to those among 
 the peers who were most interested in discovering them 
 to be forged, and by them admitted to be indisputably in 
 the handwriting of the Queen of Scots ; because the 
 letters in the text especially refer to conversations with 
 Lord Huntley, who was then and always one of Mary 
 Stuart's truest adherents, conversations which he could 
 have denied had they been false, and which he never did 
 deny ; because their contents were confirmed in every 
 particular unfavorable to the queen by a Catholic in- 
 formant of the Spanish ambassador, who hurried from 
 the spot to London immediately after the final catastrophe 
 for which they prepared the way ; and lastly, because 
 there is no ground whatever to doubt the genuineness of 
 the entire set of the casket-letters, except such as arises 
 from the hardy and long-continued but entirely baseless 
 denial of interested or sentimental partisans." 
 
 But in connection with Mr. Froude's declaration that 
 his faith rests on them because they were submitted to 
 the English Peerage, impartial statement of evidence 
 demands another comparison between these conflicting 
 testimonies upon a different link in the chain of evidence 
 for and against the guilt of Mary Stuart. Randolph was 
 the English ambassador at the court of Scotland, and in 
 some of his letters to Leicester he has revealed the Eng- 
 lish plotting and connivance in the scheme to ruin Mary, 
 Queen of Scots. Regarding this point Miss Strickland 
 says : 
 
 "In the selfsame letter which records the round of 
 banquets, masks, and princely pleasures, the English 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 21 d 
 
 Mephistopheles, Randolph, exultingly unfolds to Leice& 
 ter the items of the black budget prepared with his ap- 
 proval, against the meeting of the Scottish Parliament, 
 by the unscrupulous coalition of traitors who were secretly 
 allied with their sovereign's husband and his father in a 
 dastardly bond for murder, premeditated in cold blood, 
 and intended to be perpetrated in the presence of their 
 queen ; and the crime was to be justified, as such deeds 
 generally are, by slander. 
 
 " ' I know now for certain,' writes he, ' that this queen 
 repenteth her marriage, that she hateth him and all his 
 kin. I know that he knoweth himself that he hath a 
 partner in play and game with him. I know that there 
 are practices in hand, contrived between the father and 
 the son, to come by the crown against her will. I know 
 that if it take effect, which is intended, David, with the 
 consent of the king, shall have his throat cut within 
 these ten days. Many thing grieveouser, and worse than 
 these are brought to my ears, yea, of things intended 
 against her own person, which, because I think better to 
 keep secret than to write to Mr. Secretary, I speak not of 
 them, but now to your lordship/ By one of the secret 
 articles of the atrocious pact to which our worthy ambas- 
 sador alludes, the life-long imprisonment of Mary was 
 agreed, and her death, in case of her attempting to resist 
 the transfer of the whole power of the crown to the ungrate- 
 ful consort she had associated in her regality ; and to this 
 wrong Cecil, Bedford, and Elizabeth tacitly consented." 
 
 Such was the villanous treachery of Darnley and his 
 father, leagued with the English ministers and malcon- 
 tents in Scotland, headed by Murray, the plotting half- 
 brother of the queen, against Mary Stuart, who time and 
 again received her inconstant and petulant husband into 
 
216 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 favor, forgiving his outrageous behavior towards her. 
 But Darnley little knew the schemes of his vile fellow- 
 conspirators. They but used him as a tool, as long as he 
 could avail their purposes, and then blew him up with 
 gunpowder, when they had matured their infamous plans, 
 so that his death should seemingly be the work of his 
 shamefully abused and marvellously forbearing wife. 
 
 Miss Strickland further says : 
 
 u A startling light is thrown by a careful collation of 
 the above letters of Randolph to Leicester and Throck- 
 morton on the agency, as well as the incentives, em- 
 ployed in the successive Edinburgh assassinations of 
 Mary Stuart's faithful and incorruptible minister, David 
 Rizzio, in March, 1566, and that of her husband in Feb- 
 ruary, 1567, which led to the deposition of that unfor- 
 tunate princess and the transfer of the government of 
 Scotland to the sworn creatures of the English sovereign, 
 a great but diabolical stroke of policy. The cool revela- 
 tion of our unscrupulous ambassador, that the faithful 
 minister who would not barter his royal mistress's in- 
 terests for English gold, ' would have his throat cut 
 within ten days,' is sufficient proof of his iniquitous 
 coalition in the murderous confederacy against the first 
 victim of the English cabinet. His hostile expressions 
 regarding Mary's husband, with whom he was at that 
 very moment enleagued in the secret intrigues for ob- 
 taining the signatures of Murray and the banished lords 
 to the bond for the murder of Rizzio, are no less worthy 
 of observation, together with his earnest deprecation of 
 Mary and her husband ever succeeding to the throne of 
 England, and the emphatic desire he expressed to Throck- 
 morton that ' something may be done to preclude the possi- 
 bility of such a contingency.' 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 217 
 
 " This subtle diplomatist first excited and then worked 
 on the natural fears of better men than either himself, 
 Leicester, or Throckmorton, to wink at, if not to sanction, 
 the systematic train of political villany to which David 
 Rizzio, Henry Stuart, and Mary Stuart were the succes- 
 sive victims. After the consummation of these astute 
 schemes of wickedness when Rizzio and Darnley were 
 festering in their untimely graves, and the more pitiable 
 survivor, Mary Stuart, languishing in her damp, noisome 
 prison -room in Tutbury Castle, her infant son set up as 
 a puppet king, to color the usurpation of the murderers 
 of his father and her defamers, and her realm convulsed 
 .with civil strife 'then,' observes Sir James Melville, 'as 
 Nero stood upon a high part of Rome to see the town 
 burning, which he had caused to be set on fire, so Master 
 Randolph delighted to see such fire kindled in Scotland, 
 and by his writings to some in the court of England, 
 glorified himself to have brought it to pass in such sort 
 that it could not be easily slokened (slaked) again.' " 
 
 In proof of the importance of this link in the chain of 
 evidence, we will quote Mr. Fronde's own words: "As 
 the vindication of the conduct of the English government 
 proceeds on the assumption of her guilt, so the deter- 
 mination of her innocence will equally be the absolute 
 condemnation of Elizabeth and Elizabeth's advisers." 
 
 There is only one other point in this evidence for and 
 against the guilt of Mary Stuart, which will be cited. 
 Regarding the famous confessions of Paris, Mr. Froude 
 says : 
 
 " Nicholas Hubert, alias French Paris, was Bothwell's 
 page. He was taken privately to St. Andrews, where the 
 Regent happened to be, and examined by George Bu- 
 chanan, Robert Ramsey, Murray's steward, and John 
 
218 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 Wood, his confidential secretary. Paris made two depo- 
 sitions : the first not touching Mary Stuart, the second 
 fatally implicating her. This last was read over in his 
 presence. He signed it, and was then executed, that 
 there might be no retraction or contradiction." 
 
 Regarding these confessions, Agnes Strickland says : 
 "Nothing can, in fact, afford clearer evidence of -Mary's 
 ignorance of the plot of her husband's murder than this 
 first confession of Hubert. Malcolm Laing, the most 
 able of all the writers who have adopted the self-interested 
 calumnies of the conspirators against Mary, put forth by 
 their venal organ, Buchanan, and the political agents of 
 Cecil, insists on the authenticity and credibility of this 
 document. It contains, indeed, such strong internal evi- 
 dences of reality that we fully coincide with him in its 
 being genuine evidence, and for this reason reject the'so- 
 called second confession of Nicholas Hubert, or French 
 Paris, as spurious, because one or the other must be false, 
 and the second is palpably a fabrication between Murray 
 and his secretary, Alexander Ha} 7 , to bolster up the forged 
 letters and defame the queen. As poor Hubert could not 
 write, it was unlikely he could read the paper to which 
 Murray's secretary made him put his mark. He had no 
 trial, and though Queen Elizabeth requested he might be 
 sent to London, Murray hanged him, that he might not 
 contradict what had been put forth in his name." 
 
 We mention Agnes Strickland, in these comparisons 
 with the testimony of Froude, because she was also an 
 English writer; and she quotes from the very same 
 authorities, for nearly all of the historians, letters, state 
 papers, and authorities are cited by Miss Strickland which 
 are used by Froude in proof of his statements. We also 
 quote Agnes Strickland because her works are within the 
 
MAR Y, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 219 
 
 reach of ever}' one, and those desiring to investigate the 
 evidences on both sides will find her authorities in the 
 foot-notes of her "English and Scottish Queens," and in 
 separate lives of Mary Stuart and Elizabeth, in her his- 
 torical series. It is not the authority of Agnes Strickland 
 as against that of Fronde, but the weight of the many 
 authorities and state papers which both refer to, as evi- 
 dence in proof of the different sides they take upon this 
 perplexing question. Froude pronounces Mary Stuart as 
 probably innocent of all evil intent regarding Rizzio, and 
 exonerates her of any improper conduct with him further 
 than a good-natured condescension towards one in her 
 employ. But if Mary Stuart's guilt with Bothweli is 
 proven, it is idle to talk of her innocence with Rizzio. 
 
 Mary Stuart was rescued from the power of the infa- 
 mous Bothweli, and he was obliged to flee the country, 
 and died in exile ten years after. But poor abused Mary 
 was not yet free from her enemies. The very men who 
 rescued her from Bothweli were leagued with England, 
 with the ambitious Murray at their head. Their plan was 
 now to get rid of the queen and get hold of the baby 
 prince, that they might in his name get possession of the 
 government. And with this scheme England and Eliza- 
 beth were well pleased, forsooth, for by bribes and threats 
 the regent of the baby king could be held in England's 
 power. As these nefarious schemers planned, so did they 
 execute. Queen Mary was apparently aided by them to 
 escape the power of Bothweli, but so cruelly was she 
 treated that it was but an exchange of jailors. Poor, 
 slandered, persecuted queen,_ thinking good of every one, 
 ^he was betrayed on every h Qr> fl, Hnnhn.nH 1 father-in-law, 
 half-brother, Scottish ministers, and England's courtiers, 
 incited by a jealous cousin-queen, all plotted and counter- 
 
220 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 plotted and wove the web so closely around her that there 
 was no escape. She was betrayed by one party, only to 
 find herself more cruelly betrayed by her supposed deliv- 
 erers. 
 
 To whom could she turn ? Elizabeth had treacherously 
 and hypocritically sympathized with her terrible woes. 
 Elizabeth was a woman, and a cousin, and a queen ; 
 would she not succor her? and so the confiding heart of 
 Mary, Queen of Scots, thinking no evil of those who pro- 
 fessed kindness, fled to England and delivered herself 
 unwittingly into the hands of her very worse foe. The 
 poor fly now was entrapped, and the wily spider prepared 
 her final doom. 
 
 The captive Queen of Scots had been transferred from 
 prison to prison, each day more closely confined, each day 
 treated with less respect and greater cruelty. At length 
 Mary, Queen of Scots, was brought to trial and accused 
 of high treason. Mary Stuart had neither advocates, 
 counsel, nor documents ; no one was allowed to plead for 
 her, but notwithstanding, for two days, the ablest lawyers 
 in England were held in check by her wit, skill, and mar- 
 vellous presence of mind. Mary demanded to be heard 
 by Parliament, and to be permitted to see the queen in 
 person. But this was denied her, and sentence of death 
 was passed upon her. It was at this time that Henry III., 
 of France, endeavored to awaken in the heart of James 
 VI., of Scotland, some sentiments of regard for his help- 
 less mother. If the conduct of the King of Scotland 
 shocked the son of Catherine de' Medici, what severer con- 
 demnation of the unnatural treatment of James VI. can 
 be required? 
 
 Such is Guizot's comment upon the treatment of the 
 young Scottish king towards his unfortunate mother, 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 221 
 
 whose pitiable misfortunes roused many princes in Eu- 
 rope to espouse her cause and endeavor to effect her free- 
 dom, which efforts in the end proved most disastrous, as 
 they only brought down greater accusations upon her head. 
 
 Some writers do declare, however, that James VI., of 
 Scotland, did make some feeble efforts in her behalf, 
 which were quickly made unavailing through the wily cun- 
 ning of Elizabeth and her scheming ministers. 
 
 When her sentence was read to the hapless Queen of 
 Scots, Mary made the sign of the cross and calmly said 
 " that death was welcome, but that she had not expected 
 after having being detained twenty years in prison that 
 her sister Elizabeth would thus dispose of her." At the 
 same time Mary placed her hand upon a book beside her, 
 and swore a solemn oath that she had never contemplated 
 nor sought the death of Elizabeth. 
 
 " That is a popish Bible," exclaimed the Earl of Kent, 
 rudely ; " your oath is of no value." 
 
 " It is a Catholic testament," said the queen with calm 
 dignity, " and therefore, my lord, as I believe that to be 
 the true version, my oath is the more to be relied on." 
 
 Some writers claim that Elizabeth did not herself sign 
 the death-warrant of Mary, Queen of Scots, but tacitly 
 consenting thereto, her signature was at last forged by 
 one Thomas Harrison, a private and confidential secretary 
 of Sir Francis Walsingham. According to Elizabeth's 
 secretary, Davison, the warrant had been ready for six 
 weeks when the queen signed it in private, consigning it 
 to the Secretary of State, Davison, "without other 
 orders," as she afterwards declared. Regarding Har- 
 rison's confession, which did not come to light until twenty 
 years after Mary's execution, it is stated that a document 
 was found, purporting to be a Star-Chamber investigation, 
 
222 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 dated 1606. It is a deposition, attested by the signatures 
 of two persons of the names of Mayer and Macaw, affirm- 
 ing, " that the late Thomas Harrison, a private and con- 
 fidential secretary of the late Sir Francis Walsingham, 
 did voluntarily acknowledge to them that, in conjunction 
 with Thomas Phillipps and Maude, he, by the direction of 
 his master, Sir Francis Walsingham, added to the letters 
 of the late queen of Scotland those passages that were 
 afterwards brought in evidence against her, and for which 
 she was condemned to suffer death ; and that he was 
 employed by his said master, Sir Francis Walsingham, to 
 forge Queen Elizabeth's signature to the death-warrant of 
 the Queen of Scots, which none of her ministers could 
 ever induce her to sign ; and that he did this with the 
 knowledge and assent of four of her principal ministers 
 of state." 
 
 Regarding this point, Miss Strickland, in her life of 
 Queen Elizabeth, says : " If she did not sign the warrant 
 for Mary's execution, and we have only Davison's assev- 
 eration in proof that she did, then was her ignorance of 
 the consummation real, her tears and lamentations un- 
 affected, and her indignation against her ministers no 
 grimace." 
 
 But were this the case, why did Elizabeth not clear her 
 own reputation from the stain of this infamous deed by 
 denouncing her unscrupulous ministers who had dared 
 thus tamper with her royal name and royal authority? 
 Miss Strickland claims that she could not, giving the rea- 
 son in these words : " The position in which her ministers 
 had placed Elizabeth, was the more painful because, un- 
 less she could have brought them to a public trial, con- 
 victed them of the treasonable crime of procuring her 
 royal signature to be forged, she could not explain the 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 223 
 
 offence of which they had been guilty. The impossibility 
 of proclaiming the whole truth, rendered her passionate 
 protestations of her own innocence not only unsatisfac- 
 tory, but apparently false and equivocating. While she 
 denied the deed, she was in a manner compelled to act as 
 if it were her own, being unable to inflict condign punish- 
 ment on the subtle junta who had combined to make un- 
 authorized use of her name for the immolation of the 
 heiress-presumptive of the crown." 
 
 But if Elizabeth was innocent of the death of Mary, 
 Queen of Scots, it seems evident that with her imperious 
 nature, she would have most daringly and publicly resented 
 and punished such audacious villany. Had she in reality 
 desired the death of Mary, and yet refused to sign the 
 warrant, and had her name been forged upon it, this 
 would have given her the very opportunity to clear her 
 own name from infamy and the condemnation of the 
 powers of Europe, which she well knew this execution 
 would call forth ; and yet the very end she dared to wish 
 /or, if not to command, would have been accomplished, 
 and the blame would rest upon others rather than herself. 
 
 That Elizabeth desired the death of Mary all her pre- 
 vious conduct would prove ; and if that death was accom- 
 plished at last through the crimes of others, unknown to 
 the queen of England, surely she could not have had a 
 better opportunity for proving her own innocence than 
 the denunciation of the treacherous ministers who had 
 committed the crime. That she denounced them it is 
 true ; but the strength and manner of those denunciations 
 were more in keeping with the supposition that she was 
 hypocritically screening her own aid and connivance in 
 the treachery, than that they had dared commit so criminal 
 a villauy as the forging of her own royal name, and the 
 
224 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 commission of so grave an offence upon the strength of 
 that forged signature. 
 
 At six o'clock on the fatal morning of the 8th of Feb- 
 ruary, 1587, Mary Stuart told her ladies that "she had 
 but two hours to live, and bade them dress her as for a 
 festival." The particulars of the last toilette have been 
 preserved. " She wore a widow's dress' of black velvet, 
 spangled over with gold, a black satin pourpoint and kirtle, 
 and under these a petticoat of crimson velvet, with a body 
 of the same color, and a white veil of the most delicate 
 texture, of the fashion worn by princesses of the highest 
 rank, thrown over her coif and descending to the ground. 
 She wore a pomander chain, and an Agnus Dei about her 
 neck, and a pair of beads at her girdle, with a cross." 
 
 Mary Stuart had gained the reluctant consent of her 
 inhuman jailers, that her faithful ladies, Jane Kennedy 
 and Elizabeth Curie, should attend her in her last mo- 
 ments. This had been stoutly refused at first, but- the 
 eloquent exclamation of the royal captive, " I am cousin 
 to 3'our queen, descended of the blood-royal of Henry VII., 
 a married queen of France, and the anointed queen of 
 Scotland ! " at length shamed them into granting this 
 last request, 
 
 When the still-beautiful, heroic Mary Stuart entered the 
 hall of death, followed by her faithful attendants, she 
 gazed upon the sable scaffold, the dread block, the gleam- 
 ing axe, and the revolting executioner, with calm and 
 undaunted courage, manifesting by her majestic and in- 
 trepid demeanor, and the angelic sweetness of her counte- 
 nance, that in spite of calumny and hostile hosts of piti- 
 less foes, Mary, Queen of Scots could face the world and 
 death undismayed. 
 
 " Weep not, my good Melville ! " said Mary Stuart to 
 
MARY STUART LED TO EXECUTION 
 Drawing by Gyula Renczur. 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 225 
 
 the faithful servant who threw himself in a paroxysm of 
 grief at her feet. " Weep not for me! Thou shouldst 
 rather rejoice that thou shalt now see the end of the long 
 troubles of Mary Stuart ; know, Melville, that this world 
 is but vanity and full of sorrows. I am Catholic, thou 
 Protestant, but as there is but one Christ, I charge thee 
 in His name to bear witness that I die firm to my religion, 
 a true Scotchwoman, and true to France. Commend me 
 to my dearest and most sweet son. Tell him I have done 
 nothing to prejudice him .in his realm, nor to disparage 
 his dignity, and if he will live in the fear of God, I doubt 
 not he shall do well. Tell him, from my example, never 
 to rely too much on human aid, but to seek that which is 
 from above. If he follow my advice, he shall have the 
 blessing of God in heaven, as I now give him mine on 
 earth." 
 
 As Mary Stuart ascended the steps of the scaffold, Sir 
 A my as Paulet, her last jailer, tendered his hand to aid her. 
 With queenly courtesy she accepted it, saying : "I thank 
 you, sir ; this is the last trouble I shall ever give you." 
 
 When her upper garments had been removed, she re- 
 mained clothed in her petticoat of crimson velvet, with 
 bodice and sleeves of the same material. As Jane Ken- 
 nedy drew forth the gold-bordered handkerchief Mary 
 had given her to bind her eyes, the faithful lad} r could 
 not restrain her weeping. But Mary placed her finger 
 on her lips, saying tenderly: "Hush! I have promised 
 you would make no outcry ; weep not, but pray for me." 
 
 When the handkerchief was pinned over the eyes of 
 her loved mistress Jane was forced to retire", and Mary 
 Stuart was left alone upon the scaffold with her execu- 
 tioners. Kneeling on the cushion, the heroic Queen of 
 Scots repeated with unfaltering voice : " In te Domine 
 
226 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 speram" (In thee, Lord, have I hoped). As she was 
 blindfolded she was then led by the executioner to the 
 block, upon which she bowed her head, without the least 
 hesitation, exclaiming in firm and clear tones, " In manus 
 tuas." " Into thy hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit," 
 and the beautiful lips closed forever. At the first blow 
 the agitated executioner missed his aim, and inflicted a 
 deep wound on the side of the skull. No groan nor cry 
 escaped the suffering victim, but the convulsion of her 
 features evinced her terrible pain. At the third blow the 
 " butcher work " was accomplished, and the beautiful head 
 of the hapless Queen of Scots, streaming with blood, was 
 held up to the gaze of the people, as holding aloft this 
 blood}' and horrible trophy of his fiendish deed, the 
 executioner cried, " So perish all Queen Elizabeth's 
 enemies ! " 
 
 But neither wily ministers, nor plotting knaves, nor 
 jealous hate, nor obedient executioners, could rid Queen 
 Elizabeth of her last great foe, who, in spite of all her 
 schemes, and tears, and imprecations, would soon snatch 
 the royal diadem from her brow, and take the sceptre 
 from her clutching hands, and tear the royal ermine from 
 her tottering form, and close her defiant eyes. The King 
 of Terrors could neither be bribed, nor menaced, nor de- 
 feated, though she should cry in tortured agony, " My 
 'kingdom for an hour of time I " Steadily this conqueror 
 approached, though she fought desperately to elude his 
 grasp. Far differently did Elizabeth meet her doom from 
 the heroic Queen of Scots. Refusing to go to bed lest 
 she should be deemed dying, Elizabeth commanded that 
 pillows should be piled for her on the floor; and there y 
 writhing in agony of body and terror of mind, she spent 
 her last hours. Now calling upon her chaplain to pray, 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 227 
 
 and then muttering in angry complainings when her 
 ministers requested her to name her successor. At length 
 she was so weak that she could no longer speak, and she 
 ordered by signs that the Archbishop of Canterbury should 
 continue to pray. This the old man did until he was 
 utterly exhausted, the dying queen each time motioning 
 him to proceed, when he endeavored to stop from very 
 weariness. Meanwhile her attendants watched her waning 
 breath, with eager impatience to greet the coining king. 
 But even in death their wily vigilance was overreached 
 by the apparent sleep of their helpless sovereign, and 
 Elizabeth had been dead several hours before it was dis- 
 covered by her scheming ministers, who were eagerly 
 awaiting the signal announcing her demise, that they 
 might be the first to shout " God save James I. ! king of 
 England, Ireland and Scotland ! " 
 
 Mr. Froude thus ably sums up the salient points in the 
 character and reign of Elizabeth : 
 
 "Tlje years which followed the defeat of the Armada 
 were rich in events of profound national importance. 
 They were j'ears of splendor and triumph. The flag of 
 England became supreme on the seas ; English commerce 
 penetrated to the farthest corners of the Old World, 
 and English colonies rooted themselves on the shores of 
 the New. The national intellect, strung by excitement 
 of sixty years, took shape in a literature which is an 
 eternal possession to mankind, while the incipient strug- 
 gles of the two parties in the Anglican church prepared 
 the way for the conflicts of the coming century, and the 
 second act of the Reformation. The Catholic England 
 with which the century opened, the England of dominant 
 church, and monasteries, and pilgrimages, became the 
 England of progressive intelligence ; and the question 
 
228 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 whether the nation was to pass a second time through the 
 farce of a reconciliation with Rome was answered once 
 and forever by the cannon of Sir Francis Drake. The 
 action before Gravelines of the 30th of July, 1588, de- 
 cided the largest problems ever submitted in the history 
 of mankind to the arbitrement of force. Beyond and 
 beside the immediate fate of England, it decided that 
 Philip's revolted provinces should never be reanuexed to 
 the Spanish Crown. It broke the back of Spain, sealed 
 the fate of the Duke of Guise, and though it could not 
 prevent the civil war, it assured the ultimate succession 
 of the king of Navarre. In its remoter consequences it 
 determined the fate of the Reformation in Germany ; for 
 had Philip been victorious the League must have been 
 immediately triumphant ; the power of France would have 
 been on the side of Spain and the Jesuits, and the thirty 
 years' war would either have never been begun, or would 
 have been brought to a swift conclusion. It furnished 
 James of Scotland with conclusive reasons for remaining 
 a Protestant, and for eschewing forever the forbidden 
 fruit of popery ; and thus it secured his tranquil accession 
 to the throne of England when Elizabeth passed awa}\ 
 Finally, it was the sermon which completed the conversion 
 of the English nation, and transformed the Catholics into 
 Anglicans. 
 
 " While Parliament was busy with the condition of the 
 people, the concerns of the Church were taken in hand by 
 the queen herself. For Protestantism Elizabeth had 
 never concealed her dislike and contempt. She hated to 
 acknowledge any fellowship in^religion either with Scots, 
 Dutch, or Huguenots. She represented herself to foreign 
 ambassadors as a Catholic in everything, except in alle- 
 giance to the papacy. Even for the Church of England, of 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 229 
 
 which she was the supreme governor, she affected no 
 particular respect. 
 
 " The want of wisdom shown in the persecution of the 
 Nonconformists was demonstrated by the event. Puri- 
 tanism was a living force in England ; Catholicism was a 
 dying superstition. Puritanism had saved Elizabeth's 
 crown ; Catholicism was a hot-bed of disloyalty. She 
 found herself compelled against her will to become the 
 patron of heretics and rebels, in wfrose objects she had no 
 interest and in whose theology she had no belief. She 
 resented the necessity while she submitted to it, and her 
 vacillations are explained by the reluctance with which 
 each successive step was forced upon her on a road which 
 she detested. It would have been easy for a Protestant 
 to be decided. It would have been easy for a Catholic to 
 be decided. To Elizabeth the speculations of so-called 
 divines were but as ropes of sand and sea-slime leading to 
 the moon, and the doctrines for which they were rending 
 each other to pieces a dream of fools or enthusiasts. 
 Unfortunately her keenness of insight was not combined 
 with any profound concern for serious things. She saw 
 through the forms in which religion presented itself to the 
 world. She had none the more any larger or deeper con- 
 viction of her own. She was without the intellectual emo- 
 tions which give human character its consistency and 
 power. 
 
 " Elizabeth could rarely bring herself to sign the death- 
 warrant of a nobleman, yet without compunction she 
 could order Yorkshire peasants to be hung in scores by 
 martial law. She was most remorseless when she ought 
 to have been most forbearing, and lenient when she ought 
 to have been stern. 
 
 " Vain as she was of her own sagacity, she never modi- 
 
230 QUEEN ELIZABETH, AND 
 
 fied a course recommended to her by Burleigh, without in- 
 jury both to the realm and to herself. The great results 
 of her reign were the fruits of a policy which was not her 
 own, and which she starved and mutilated when energy 
 and completeness were needed. 
 
 " The greatest achievement in English history, the 
 4 breaking the bonds of Rome,' and the establishment of 
 spiritual independence, was completed without bloodshed 
 under Elizabeth's auspices, and Elizabeth may have the 
 glory of the work. 
 
 " In fighting out her long quarrel with Spain and build- 
 ing her church system out of the broken masonry of 
 popery, her concluding years passed away. The great 
 men who had upheld the throne in the days of her peril 
 dropped one by one into the grave. Walsingham died 
 soon after the defeat of the Armada, ruined in fortune 
 and weary of his ungrateful service. Hunsdon, Knollys, 
 Burleigh, Drake, followed at brief intervals, and their mis- 
 tress was left by herself, standing as it seemed on the pin- 
 nacle of earthly glory, yet in all the loneliness of greatness, 
 and unable to enjoy the honors which Burleigh's policy 
 had won for her. The first place among the Protestant 
 powers, which had been so often offered her and so often 
 refused, has been forced upon her in spite of herself. She 
 was head of the name, but it gave her no pleasure. She 
 was the last of her race ; no Tudor would sit again on the 
 English throne. Her own sad prophecy was fulfilled, and 
 she lived to see those whom she most trusted turning 
 their eyes to the rising sun. 
 
 " Old age was coming upon her, bringing with it perhaps 
 a consciousness of failing faculties ; and solitary in the 
 midst of splendor, and friendless among the circle of 
 adorers, who swore they lived but in her presence, she 
 
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 231 
 
 grew weary of a life which had ceased to interest her. 
 Sickening of a vague disease, she sought no help from 
 medicine, and finally refused to take food. She could not 
 rest in her bed, but sat silent on cushions, staring into 
 vacancy with fixed and stony eyes, and so at last she 
 died. 
 
 44 All questions connected with the virgin queen should 
 be rather studied in her actions than in the opinion of the 
 historian who relates them. Opinions are but forms of 
 cloud created by the prevailing currents of the moral air. 
 Actions and words are carved upon eternity." 
 
232 CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 
 
 CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 
 
 A.D. 1519-1589. 
 
 " What mighty ills have not been done by woman ? 
 Who was't betrayed the Capitol 1 A woman ! 
 Who lost Mark Antony the world ? A woman ! 
 Who was the cause of a long ten years' war, 
 And laid at last old Troy in ashes ? Woman ! 
 Destructive, deceitful woman ! " OTWAY. 
 
 " Woman may err, woman may give her mind 
 To evil thoughts, and lose her pure estate ; 
 But for one woman who affronts her kind 
 By wicked passions and remorseless hate, 
 A thousand make amends in age and youth, 
 By heavenly pity, by sweet sympathy, 
 By patient kindness, by enduring truth, 
 By love, supremest in adversity." CHARLES MACKAT. 
 
 44 TTTOE to thee, O country, that hast a child for 
 V V king ! " exclaimed the Venetian ambassador in 
 France, in 1560, when Charles IX., a child ten years old, 
 ascended the throne ; but greater woe to that country 
 because the mother of that child, who held the power of 
 government, as queen-regent, was one of the greatest 
 monsters of crime in the annals of history, and forced that 
 child to become a very fiend of infamy and cruelty. 
 
 Catherine de' Medici was a woman devoid of every 
 womanly instinct, every womanly virtue, every womanly 
 attribute. She was the very incarnation of the terrible 
 Medusa, petrifying all noble impulses, destroying all vir- 
 
CATHERINE DE 
 
 Painting by Francois Clouet, 
 Chantilly. 
 
/ , - : \. .- - 
 
CATHERINE DE' MEDWL W6 
 
 tuous aspirations, killing every kindly feeling in the hearts 
 of those around her. 
 
 She had been taught the doctrines of Machiavelli, whose 
 ideal of a prince was one who should work by force, fraud, 
 cruelty, and dissimulation to gain his desired ends ; but 
 even these dangerous theories of that crafty, though bril- 
 liant-minded Florentine, were far out-stripped in unprin- 
 cipled chicanery by his ambitious follower, Catherine de' 
 Medici ; so that the term Machiavellian is far too weak a 
 word to apply to her diabolical villanies. 
 
 France ran red with blood. The terrible tocsin at mid- 
 night tolled forth the death-doom of one hundred thou- 
 sand lives. The wild shrieks of the dying freighted the 
 air of France with heart-curdling wailings from centre 
 to circumference. French soil was deluged with the 
 blood of her people. The blasphemous curses of the 
 fiendish murderers polluted the very air of heaven, until 
 it seemed as though the furies of hell were let loose 
 upon this realm, to wreck upon the helpless people the 
 infernal hate of the arch-demon himself. 
 
 Who was the diabolical instigator of this atrocious 
 work? Alas! a woman! and that woman Catherine de y 
 Medici. 
 
 The innocent soul of a child, naturally moved by good 
 impulses, was tutored in every vice of which human 
 nature is capable. His childish lips were taught to pro- 
 nounce the most terrible blasphemies, his kind heart was 
 mocked and sneered at, and tempted with every ensnar- 
 ing device of vile and polluting pleasures offered by the 
 most dissolute and alluring companions, until no wicked- 
 ness seemed too great to be undertaken, no degrading 
 diversion too low to be indulged in. His constitution 
 was purposely weakened, his mind purposely dwarfed and 
 
234 CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 
 
 debased, that his life might be short, and that his will 
 might be broken ; that another's ambitious power might 
 be increased even though it cost the death of body and 
 soul of the helpless victim. Who was this fiend incar- 
 nate, who could thus toy with a human soul, hourly 
 dragging it nearer and nearer the yawning jaws of the 
 bottomless pit of perdition ? That one was a woman, the 
 mother of her quivering victim ; this malevolent Gorgon 
 was Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 Even the horrors of the Inquisition in Spain pale before 
 the horrors of the massacre of St. Bartholomew. Even 
 the bloody "Demon of the South," as Philip II. was 
 called, seems not such a revolting spectacle of depraved 
 humanity as Catherine de' Medici ; for Philip, at least, 
 fanatically imagined he was aiding the cause of religion, 
 as he believed the infamous Inquisition to be a righteous 
 avenger in behalf of the Catholic Church ; whereas Cath- 
 erine de' Medici had no belief, no religion, cared neither 
 for Catholics nor Protestants, neither for the Romish 
 Church nor for the Reformed Faith. 
 
 She flattered each by turns as it best suited her ne- 
 farious schemes ; she was actuated by no motive beyond 
 her personal ambition of holding the reins of power ; she 
 cared not who or what was sacrificed, whether the life 
 and soul of her own child, or whether the result was the 
 downfall of every religious belief, the blood of her sub- 
 jects, the ruin of her provinces, and the desolation of the 
 homes of her people. 
 
 Not even fanaticism can be offered as a poor excuse for 
 her crimes ; her infamous deeds can be cloaked by no 
 paltry plea of religious fervor. Her crimes were insti- 
 gated by her own diabolical soul, a willing ally of the 
 Prince of Darkness ; and were it not for the strong men- 
 
CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 235 
 
 tal abilities she manifested, one would imagine her some 
 grotesque monster of an animal. But her crafty schemes 
 betokened keen intellectual powers, and made her seem 
 some malignant demon in human shape sent forth from 
 the lowest depths of the Inferno to lure men and women 
 to destruction. 
 
 Catherine de' Medici was a daughter of Lorenzo de' 
 Medici, that ruler of Florence for whom Machiavelli wrote 
 the "Prince." Having lost both her parents in early 
 childhood, Catherine was sent to a convent to be edu- 
 cated. Her uncle, Pope Clement VII., arranged with 
 Francis I. of France a marriage between Catherine and 
 the Duke of Orleans, afterwards Henry II. of France. 
 This marriage was celebrated in 1533, when Catherine 
 was fourteen years of age. 
 
 During the reign of Francis, Catherine exercised no 
 influence in France. She was a thick-set, plain, unpre- 
 possessing girl ; and being so young, and a foreigner, and 
 a native of a state having no great weight in the world of 
 politics, she was thrown entirely into the shade by more 
 important and attractive personages, having not yet given 
 any proof of her after great but iniquitous ability. 
 
 The court life at the time of Francis I. was beginning 
 to assume some of the brilliancy and splendor for which 
 it became so famous in the reign of le Grand Monarque. 
 The fall of Florence and the expulsion of the French from 
 Italy brought many Italians into France. Among these 
 were men of letters, poets, musicians, sculptors, painters, 
 and architects. Italian was generally understood at court, 
 and became a frequent medium of conversation. Many 
 Italian words were thus introduced into French phrases, 
 and the French tongue became thereby materially changed 
 and softened in its pronunciation. 
 
236 CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 
 
 It was at this time that so many old feudal fortresses 
 were torn down to give place to the chateaux of the 
 Renaissance. The king lived familiarly with artists, 
 men of letters and celebrities, and patronized all who 
 had made a name in art or literature. 
 
 Fontainebleau, which was originally a hunting-seat of 
 Saint Louis IX., began to rise into a stately palace under 
 the direction of Sebastian Serlio and Rosso, a Florentine. 
 This Italian artist, Rosso, or Battista di Jacopo, was 
 named by King Francis, "chief and superintendent over 
 all the buildings, paintings, and other decorations of the 
 palace," with a large salary, for Rosso lived like en grand 
 seigneur. As a painter his industry was great, and he 
 displayed much ability in his designs for the decoration 
 of the Galerie de Francois /., which he constructed over 
 the lower court. During the reign of Louis Philippe some 
 of Rosso's paintings were discovered under a coating of 
 whitewash, and were restored by that king's order. 
 
 But the chef-d'oeuvre of the Renaissance was the 
 Chdteau de Chambord, which, though it was not half 
 completed at the time of the visit of the Emperor Charles 
 V., so greatly excited his wonder and admiration. 
 
 One of the marvels of this chateau was "its double 
 spiral staircase of two hundred and eighty-six steps, ris- 
 ing in the centre of the edifice from its basement to its 
 highest point, the lantern, crowned by an enormous 
 fleur-de-lys. It was a sort of puzzle. Eight persons 
 could walk abreast up or down it, the ascending and de- 
 scending parties never meeting, yet seeing each other." 
 
 The Emperor Charles was also amazed at this time by 
 the gorgeousness and extravagance in dress displayed by 
 the bourgeoisie. "At Poitiers he was received by near 
 five hundred gentlemen, richly attired, and two thousand 
 
FRANCIS I. 
 From a painting by Titian in the Louv 
 
CATHERINE DK MEDICI. 237 
 
 of the citizens in robes of velvet and satin, bordered with 
 gold and silver lace. From Orleans a still more imposing 
 cavalcade rode out to meet him. The bourgeoisie of this 
 royal city had certain privileges which, like the citizens 
 of Paris, they shared with the nobility. Ninety-two of 
 these privileged merchants of the upper bourgeoisie ac- 
 companied the governor and persons of distinction to greet 
 the emperor. All of them were mounted on excellent 
 chargers, and all wore coats or casaques of black velvet, 
 and doublets or vests of white satin fastened with gold 
 buttons. Their boots were of white morocco, slashed, 
 and their spurs either silver-gilt or gold. Their caps or 
 toques were also of velvet, elaborately ornamented with 
 gold embroidery and precious stones." 
 
 Orleans was then considered a large, handsome town. 
 Charles V. said it was the finest city he saw in France. 
 " Where, then," he was asked, " does your majesty place 
 Paris?" 
 
 "Oh, Paris," he replied, " is no city, but rather a little 
 world." 
 
 As Francis I. was ruled by his favorite, the Duchesse d' 
 Etampes, his wife, Queen Eleanor, was simply a dazzling 
 ornament in his court, where she always appeared in the 
 splendor of the most gorgeous attire, solacing herself with 
 the only privilege left to her, of displaying her rightful 
 rank and prestige. " Near her, as if to seek the protec- 
 tion which her position afforded, if not her influence, 
 for of that she had none, the quiet, subtle girl- wife of 
 the youthful Prince Henry was always to be found. Of 
 all that passed around her nothing escaped her vigilant, 
 restless eyes. She was inwardly taking notes to serve for 
 her guidance in the future, resigned to live, and learn, 
 and bide her time, fully assured for was it not written 
 
238 CATHERINE DE> MEDICI. 
 
 in the stars? that, as time rolled on, her turn would 
 come to sway the destinies of the kingdom. 
 
 " No attentions did Catherine de' Medici receive or look 
 for from her boy-husband. He was a fluttering captive 
 in the chains of first love, and the most brilliant beauty of 
 the court, the famed Diana de Poitiers, was the lady of 
 his heart, at the shrine of whose loveliness he bowed the 
 knee. Prince Henry was then seventeen, and the lady 
 had numbered thirty-seven summers. As to winters, they 
 glided o'er her smooth, fair brow, leaving no trace of their 
 passage, or any snowy signs of age on her luxuriant raven 
 hair. Her husband, the Comte de Dreux-Breze", died in 
 1531, and she erected a magnificent monument to his 
 memory, and^ever after wore the widow's dress. Nature 
 had made her beautiful forever, and beautiful she re- 
 mained, unaided by art, we are told, until the end of her 
 threescore years and nine. 
 
 "At this early period of Henry's attachment to her, 
 Diana derived from it no influence at court. The king 
 disliked his second son, whose sentimental worship of an 
 'aged siren,' as envious ladies were pleased to call her, 
 was a subject of jest among his companions, while Diana 
 professed for the royal youth a tender but motherly affec- 
 tion ; placid Catherine looking on unmoved." 
 
 But this placid Catherine would not always sheathe her 
 sharp stiletto of Italian craftiness, and then its gleaming 
 point would pierce the quivering hearts of her victims 
 with merciless cruelty. 
 
 During the reign of her husband, Henry II., Catherine 
 lived a quiet, unobtrusive life, having little or no influence 
 over the king, who was completely under the fascinating 
 sway of the beautiful widow, Diana of Poitiers, who, pos- 
 sessing keen insight and much quick wit, was in reality 
 the sovereign of France during the reign of Henry II. 
 
CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 239 
 
 Catherine de' Medici manifested no outward signs of her 
 discomfiture in thus having her place and power usurped 
 by her husband's fair favorite, but she was silently wait- 
 ing her turn, and carefully observing the various moves 
 in the political game then being played in Europe. She 
 affected not only tolerance, but even friendship towards 
 Diana ; but the crafty Italian was meanwhile watching 
 with tiger-cunning the right moment to spring forth from 
 her hidden lair and seize upon her coveted prize, the im- 
 perial power of the throne; this was her only ambition. 
 With wise insight she realized the hopelessness of endeav- 
 oring to free her husband from the ensnaring power of 
 Diana, and so she artfully made his favorite her friend, 
 and seemingly acquiesced in the ascendency of her rival. 
 
 On the 31st of March, 1547, Francis I. died, and in the 
 following July, Henry II. was crowned, his elder brother 
 having died some time before. On this occasion Diana 
 and Catherine sat together under a "canopied tribune," 
 beholding the handsome prince in his royal robes, as he 
 knelt before the archbishop and received from his hands 
 the imperial crown. 
 
 But another character connected with this court de- 
 mands attention. Jeanne d'Albret, the daughter of 
 Queen Margaret of Navarre, was brought up at the 
 Court of Francis I. and educated in the Romish faith. 
 But her mother had adopted the principles of the Refor- 
 mation, and Jeanne d'Albret afterwards became the most 
 ardent defender of the Protestants at a time when such 
 defence required the bravest heart and most unflinching 
 courage. 
 
 Soon after the coronation of Henry II. the marriage of 
 Jeanne d'Albret, heiress of the kingdom of Navarre, was 
 celebrated in the Chateau de Moulins. The bridegroom 
 
240 CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 
 
 was Antoine de Bourbon, Due de Vend6me and first 
 prince of the blood after the sons of Henry II. King 
 Henry and his brilliant court repaired to Moulins to cele- 
 brate these nuptials. Upon this occasion Catherine de' 
 Medici was attired with gorgeous splendor. She was very 
 fond of dress, and with the richly-robed Italian ladies in 
 her suite presented a magnificent spectacle. Amidst all 
 the brilliant costumes, one lady was distinguished by her 
 widow's garb. But Madame Diana well understood her 
 charms, and in her costly robe of white and black velvet, 
 with veil of silver tissue and coiffe of netted velvet, bor- 
 dered with pearls, she became at once distingud and en- 
 chanting ; and though Catherine de' Medici might flash in 
 gorgeous colors and royal jewels, her ugly, heavy features 
 and ungraceful form only appeared more unattractive by 
 the side of her beautiful rival. King Henry, who alwaj's 
 wore black and white in compliment to Diana, was attired 
 on this occasion " in a pourpoint, or vest of black vel- 
 vet, slashed with white satin, with short skirts or basques, 
 and a cloak of the same material, embroidered in broad 
 stripes of gold. Trunk-hose of white silk, very large, and 
 rounded with horse-hair or wool, a band of gold braiding 
 attaching them to the long white silk stockings, and white 
 silk shoes with black rosettes. A black velvet toque, with 
 a white plume of two or three feathers placed on the right 
 side, and bordered with four rows of black and white 
 pearls. His cravat was of fine lace, and an escarcelle or 
 pocket was fastened on his right side by gold chains to an 
 embroidered waist-belt." 
 
 "The princes and other persons of distinction were 
 similarly dressed, the bridegroom wearing blue and white 
 velvet and satin, man} 7 jewels in his plumed hat, many 
 rings on his fingers, a jewelled pouch at his side, and a 
 massive gold chain passing twice round his neck." 
 
CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 24 L 
 
 But a lovely vision was presented by the bride of nine- 
 teen, Jeanne d'Albret, as she stood at the altar of the 
 chapel of Moulins. " She was arrayed in white and silver 
 satin brocade, her hair flowing loosely over her shoulders, 
 but confined at the forehead by a circlet of pearls with 
 diamond clasp, as was usual at that time for brides of 
 high degree. Her long, heavy train, embroidered in silver 
 and seed-pearls, was borne by four }~oung pages in cos- 
 tumes of blue velvet and silver, white satin shoes with 
 blue rosettes, and blue velvet toques with small white 
 plumes. The great width of the deeply pendent sleeves 
 (another distinguishing mark of the toilettes of ladies of 
 rank, women of inferior station being permitted far less 
 latitude in this respect) heavily embroidered to match the 
 train, seemed from their weight almost to need the ser- 
 vices of two more pages to support them. A stomacher 
 of pearls and diamonds, a cordeliere of the same, silver- 
 embroidered satin shoes, and veil of Italian silver tissue 
 falling very low on the back of the dress, completed this 
 artistic and becoming bridal costume." 
 
 But a sketch of Catherine de' Medici has little to do 
 with such fascinating scenes. With the death of her 
 husband, King Henry, began the terrible spectacles of 
 bloodshed and vice and cruelties which have made her 
 name a syHonyme of revolting wickedness. Not that 
 Henry II. was not also cruel and guilty of many crimes, 
 for he even celebrated his first appearance in Paris after 
 his coronation by the public burning on the Place de 
 Greve of half a dozen heretics ; and he had established a 
 special chamber in the Parliament called significantly the 
 " Chambre Ardente" ; and he would sit at the window of 
 the H6tel-de-la-Roche-Pot, which commanded a full view 
 of the place of execution in the Rue Saint-Antoine, and 
 
242 CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 
 
 watch the writhings of the burning heretics ; but notwith* 
 standing these atrocious instances, the cruelties of Cathe- 
 rine de' Medici were on so much larger scale, and planned 
 with such diabolical butchery, that in contrast Henry II. 
 seems almost humane. 
 
 The reign of Francis I. had left France in a mournful 
 condition. The peace of Crespy had hurt the feelings 
 both of royalty and of the nation. It had left England 
 in possession of Calais and Boulogne, and confirmed the 
 ascendency of Charles V. in Germany, Italy, and Spain 
 on the French frontiers. But Charles V. met his match 
 as a general, in the brave defender of Metz, the valiant 
 Duke of Guise, who commanded Henry II. 's forces at that 
 memorable siege. This successful defence against the 
 besieging army of the Emperor Charles V. gave Guise 
 vast renown, and weakened materially the power of 
 Charles. 
 
 France had been for nearly six years free from actual 
 war with the emperor, when the German princes sought 
 the aid of Henry II. in an alliance against Charles V., 
 who was threatening to become as despotic in Germany 
 as he was in Spain. The German princes had proposed 
 to give Henry II. possession of the three cities, Metz, 
 Toul, and Verdun, or at least allow him to conquer them, 
 as these cities were not Germanic in language. As a 
 further inducement to the French king to make an alli- 
 ance with them, they promised to aid him in endeavoring 
 to recover from Charles, Henry's heritage of Milan. This 
 had been the constant ambition of Francis I., 'to obtain 
 possession of this ancestral heritage. Henry accordingly 
 entered into negotiations with the German Princes ; and 
 to the declaration of war of Maurice of Saxony against 
 the Emperor Charles, was appended a manifesto from the 
 
CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 243 
 
 king of France. " Therein Henry announced himself the 
 ' Defender of the liberties of Germany, and protector of 
 her captive princes,' further stating, ' that broken-hearted 
 (le coeur navre) at the condition of Germany, he could 
 not refuse to aid her, but had determined to do so to 
 the utmost of his power and ability, even to personally 
 engaging in this war, undertaken for liberty, and not for 
 his personal benefit.' This document, written in French, 
 was headed by the representation of a cap between two 
 poniards, and around it the inscription, ' The emblem of 
 liberty.' It is said to have been copied from some ancient 
 coins, and to have been appropriated as the symbol of 
 freedom by Caesar's assassins. Thus singularly was 
 brought to light by a king of the French Renaissance that 
 terrible cap of liberty, before which the ancient crown of 
 France was one day destined to fall." 
 
 Henry II., thereupon leaving Catherine de' Medici as 
 regent in France, much to her profound surprise at such 
 unusual attention from her indifferent husband, who 
 took good care, however, to tie her hands by such restric- 
 tions that she was regent only in name, while Diana held 
 the real power, departed with his army, and with ease 
 took possession of the cities of Metz, Toul, and Verdun. 
 
 It was in endeavoring to reconquer Metz that Charles 
 V. met his disastrous repulse in the brave defence of the 
 Duke of Guise, who was then governor of Metz. 
 
 After the fatigues and horrors of war, the French court 
 turned again to balls and tournaments, and the building 
 of chateaux, and the patronage of art. It was at this 
 time that Bernard Palissy was much patronized by the 
 fair Diana, whom Henry had made Duchesse de Valenti- 
 nois, presenting her with the Chdteau de Chenonceaux, 
 which seemed to be the only attention from the king which 
 
244 CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 
 
 caused Catherine de' Medici to vow vengeance, as she had 
 desired to possess the chateau herself. 
 
 Notwithstanding desolating wars, the French court of 
 Henry II. far outshone that of Francis I. in extravagance 
 of dress and living. 
 
 " Never had 'any queen of France, except, perhaps, 
 Queen Eleanor, and her court been arrayed in brocades 
 so costly, or bedecked with gems more precious than 
 Catherine de' Medici and her ladies, though the crown 
 jewels were worn by Madame Diana. At least they were 
 transferred to her when the reign of Madame d'Etampes 
 ended. Diana wore pearls only, black and white, which 
 harmonized with her mourning dress. She may, however, 
 have sometimes condescended to wear the crown dia- 
 monds, though they were not of great value. 
 
 " Never had the chefs-d'oeuvre of Italian cookery been 
 served at any state banquets on gold and silver plate in 
 greater profusion or of more artistic workmanship, or the 
 table ornamented with such magnificent productions of 
 the glass manufactories of Venice. Carriages sufficiently 
 capacious, luxuriously furnished, and ornamented with 
 thousands of gilt nails, now took the place of the litter 
 for travelling, the gentlemen, when not aged or gouty, 
 still preferring horses." 
 
 Jeroinio Lipporuano, writing to the senate, says : 
 
 " The novelties or changes in the fashion of dress suc- 
 ceed each other from day to day, I might almost say from 
 hour to hour. The French spend without measure on 
 their wardrobes and their table. As the profession of the 
 French noble is that of arms, he wears a short coat. But 
 it would be difficult to send you a model, so often is it 
 varied in color and form. To-day the brim of his hat 
 will extend beyond his shoulders ; to-morrow his hat or 
 
CATHERINE DE> MEDICI. 245 
 
 cap will scarce cover the top of his head. His mantle 
 sometimes reaches to his ankles ; at others no lower than 
 his loins. His shoes are either in the Greek fashion, or 
 that of Savoy, so wide and so high that they reach the 
 middle of the leg, or so short and so narrow that they 
 resemble tubes. If the form of the garments is fre- 
 quently changed, no less so is the ridiculous manner of 
 wearing them, as buttoning one sleeve and leaving the 
 other open. When on horseback, these young warriors 
 carry the sword in the hand, and gallop through the city 
 as if in pursuit of an enemy, after the manner of the 
 Polish cavaliers." 
 
 " Twenty -five to thirty dresses of different form, and all 
 elaborately embroidered, with an ample stock of fine 
 laces, feathers, and jewels, scarcely sufficed to make a 
 decent appearance at this luxurious and extravagant 
 court. The ladies cared not to bestow their smiles on a 
 cavalier who proclaimed his poverty by the scantiness of 
 his wardrobe." So great was the cost of living at the 
 court that the courtiers took turns of three months each in 
 the court service, and then retired to their chateaux, that 
 they might retrench in their expenses, and so save enough 
 money to again make a brilliant appearance when attend- 
 ance at court was imposed upon them. 
 
 Meanwhile Charles V. had retired to a monastery and 
 abdicated in favor of his son, Philip II. of Spain. Philip 
 had married Mar} 7 Tudor of England. Mary Stuart of 
 Scotland, a niece of the powerful House of Guise, had 
 been married to Francis, the Dauphin of France. Philip 
 II. had continued his father's hostility to France, and the 
 desperate battle of Saint Quentin had not only defeated 
 the French, but had placed Montmorency, King Henry's 
 favorite " good gossip," a prisoner in the hands of Philip. 
 
246 CATHERINE DE> MEDICI. 
 
 It was at this time that Catherine de' Medici first dis- 
 played her political tact and courage. Henry had gone 
 to Compiegne, to raise troops, when the news reached 
 Paris of the capture of Saint Quentin. A great panic en- 
 sued. Many fled from the city in fear, thinking the enemy 
 were approaching. 
 
 Catherine de' Medici went to the parliament in full 
 state, accompanied by the cardinals, princes, and prin- 
 cesses, and made such a stirring appeal to the authorities, 
 showing them the urgent necessity for an immediate levy 
 of troops, that parliament granted her 100,000 crowns for 
 that purpose. 
 
 From that day the position of Catherine de' Medici was 
 changed. King Henry returning and learning of her pru- 
 dent measures, for the first time showed her some atten- 
 tion, and thenceforward she assumed her place in the 
 court. The Duke of Guise was now put at the head of an 
 army by Henry, and Calais was speedily captured, to the 
 surprise and chagrin of Queen Mary of England and her 
 husband Philip II. of Spain. 
 
 But Philip's army was now required elsewhere. The 
 inquisition gave him much work in Spain. His wife 
 Mary had died, and Elizabeth had ascended the English 
 throne. As she would not listen to his suit, he turned his 
 eyes towards France, and as Henry II. also desired peace, 
 that his " good gossip" might be liberated, the peace of 
 Cateau-Cambre"sis was concluded, and Philip II. of Spain 
 married for his third wife Elizabeth, the daughter of 
 Henry II. and Catherine de' Medici, then in her thirteenth 
 year. At the marriage tournament, the queens of France, 
 Spain, and Scotland were seated in the royal pavilion. 
 In another, no less gorgeous, sat Diana, still fair and fas- 
 cinating, though surrounded by daughters and grand- 
 daughters. 
 
CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 247 
 
 King Henry still wore Diana's colors in the mock com- 
 bats. The king then invited Montgomery to break a lance 
 with him ; Montgomery endeavored to excuse himself, but 
 Henry insisted. It was a fatal encounter. The two com- 
 batants coming violently together, broke their lances, and 
 that of Montgomery pierced King Henry's eye. He was 
 taken wounded to his palace, but the wound was mortal. 
 In eleven da}*s Henry II. was dead. 
 
 The young prince ascended the throne as Francis II. ; 
 but in less than a year he died, and his brother Charles 
 was proclaimed king as Charles IX. Over Francis H., 
 Catherine de' Medici did not have much power, for he was 
 absorbed in his love for his beautiful young wife, Mary, 
 Queen of Scots. But with the ascension of Charles, then 
 ten years old, Catherine de' Medici as regent held in her 
 hands the reins of government, and soon unmasked her 
 true character. 
 
 At the close of the sixteenth century all Europe was 
 agitated by the controversy between the Catholics and 
 Protestants. The writings of Luther and Calvin and 
 other reformers had aroused the Christian world. Scot- 
 land and England had established the reformed faith, and 
 in France the Protestant Huguenots had become quite nu- 
 merous. Their leaders were the Prince of Conde", Admiral 
 Coligni, and the House of Navarre. They were opposed 
 by the crown and many of the French nobles, the fore- 
 most being the powerful House of Guise. 
 
 At this time Jeanne d'Albret comes prominently to the 
 front. This Jeanne d'Albret, now queen of Navarre, mar- 
 ried to a husband pitiably weak and vacillating, utterly 
 incapable of comprehending her nobility of soul, was 
 forced to take into her own hands the reins of govern- 
 ment. Surrounded by enemies on every side, she made no 
 
248 CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 
 
 mistakes in political measures, sustained her ancestral 
 rights, battled for the cause of Protestantism, and was 
 at this time its most powerful protector. Catherine de' 
 Medici worshipped no deity but ambition. Jeanne d'Al- 
 bret was ready to sacrifice her throne and her life in the 
 support of the glorious cause of the Reformation. 
 
 Catherine espoused the cause of the Catholics because 
 she deemed them the stronger party, but she treacherously 
 endeavored to win to her side the young Prince Henry, 
 the son of Jeanne d'Albret, who had been taken to Cath- 
 erine's court by his father, who was a Catholic. After 
 the death of her husband, Antoine de Bourbon, Jeanne 
 succeeded in bringing her son back to Navarre, where his 
 mother watched his character carefully, endeavoring to 
 uproot the evil tendencies which had been planted by the 
 corruption at the court of Catherine de' Medici. 
 
 The first of the religious wars during the reign of 
 Charles IX. began in 1562. During this campaign the 
 Duke of Guise, who was the chief leader in the Catholic 
 party, was waylaid and killed by a young Protestant noble, 
 who had been persecuted, and therefore believed he was 
 justified in assassinating the leader of the Catholics, who 
 was considered the most formidable foe of the reformed 
 religion. 
 
 " France was the arena of woe upon which the Catho- 
 lics and Protestants of Europe hurled themselves against 
 each other. Catherine, breathing vengeance, headed the 
 Catholic army. Jeanne, calm yet inflexible, was recog- 
 nized as the head of the Protestant leaders." 
 
 There were frequent skirmishes and battles. Many 
 thousand Protestants had perished. The Catholics now 
 waxing stronger, prepared for a decisive engagement. 
 The two forces met upon the field of Jarnac, in 1568. In 
 
CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 249 
 
 this dreadful contest the Protestants were defeated, aud 
 their brave leader, Prince of Conde, was slain. 
 
 But at this critical moment, the heroic courage of 
 Jeanne d'Albret was undaunted. Presenting herself be- 
 fore the terror-stricken Huguenots, she personally encour- 
 aged the panic-stricken soldiers. This masterly address 
 of a woman to the soldiers of the Reformation has some- 
 thing truly Napoleonic in its clear ringing cadences, and 
 something vastly grander than Napoleon's aim, for it was 
 inspired by a desire to uphold and advance God's king- 
 dom, rather than an ambitious thirst for increased power. 
 Whatever we may think of upholding any cause by the 
 use of the sword, we must admire these soul-stirring 
 words of this great and dauntless woman. 
 
 u Soldiers, you weep ! But does the memory of Conde" 
 demand nothing more than tears? Will you be satisfied 
 with profitless regrets ? No ! Let us unite and summon 
 back our courage to defend a cause which can never 
 perish. Does despair overpower you ? Despair! that 
 shameful failing of weak natures ! Can it be known to 
 you, noble warriors and Christian men? When I, the 
 queen, hope still, is it for you to fear? Because Conde" 
 is dead, is all therefore lost? Does our cause cease to be 
 just and holy? No ! God, who placed arms in his hand 
 for our defence, and who has already rescued you from 
 perils innumerable, has raised us up brothers in arms 
 worthy to succeed him, and to fight for the cause of our 
 country and the truth ! . . . To these brave warriors I add 
 my son ; make proof of his valor. Soldiers, I offer you 
 everything in my power to bestow, my dominions, my 
 treasures, my life, and that which is dearer to me than 
 all my children ! I make here solemn oath before you 
 all, and you know me too well to doubt my word ; I swear 
 
250 CATHERINE DK MEDICI. 
 
 to defend to my last sigh the holy cause which now unites 
 us, which is that of honor and of truth." 
 
 Around this brave queen of Navarre the Protest' 
 ants rallied their forces anew. Her son, Prince Henry, 
 pledged himself to consecrate all his energies to the 
 defence of the Reformation. Jeanne d'Albret presented 
 a gold medal to each of the chiefs of the army, with her 
 own name, together with that of her son, upon one side, 
 while on the other were inscribed the words, " Certain 
 peace, complete victory, or honorable death." The heroic 
 queen became almost an object of adoration in the enthu- 
 siastic hearts of her soldiers. 
 
 Catherine de' Medici, noting the effect of the presence 
 of the queen of Navarre upon the Protestant troops, also 
 visited her army ; and though she lavished presents and 
 harangued the soldiers, none admired and all secretly 
 despised her, even though they courted her through fear. 
 
 Again the opposing forces met upon the field of battle. 
 The Protestants were defeated with awful carnage. Co- 
 ligni, who led the soldiers of the Reformation, was severely 
 wounded, and carried off the field as dying, having received 
 a bullet wound in the jaw. The Catholics were jubilant, 
 but much to their surprise, in a few weeks Coligni, whom 
 they supposed to be dead, headed another force against 
 them. The brave queen of Navarre had rallied a third 
 army, and this time the tide turned in favor of the reform- 
 ers. Prince Henry of Navarre himself took part in this 
 battle, which was so greatly to the advantage of the Prot- 
 estants that Catherine offered them peace, which was 
 gladly accepted. This perfidious peace on Catherine's 
 side ' ' was but the first act in the awful tragedy of St. 
 Bartholomew." 
 
 And now Catherine de' Medici entered upon the second 
 
CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 251 
 
 act of this bloody drama. Death and a marriage were to 
 be her weapons in this scene. With flattering caresses 
 she lavished attentions upon the young prince of Navarre, 
 inviting him to her court, where she and her son Charles, 
 whom by this time she had so corrupted in mind and 
 morals that he was a submissive dupe in her Mephisto- 
 phelian plans, concocted their criminal schemes to entrap 
 him. About this time Charles was married to Elizabeth, 
 daughter of the Emperor Maximilian II. of Austria ; and 
 Catherine improved the opportunity of the nuptial festiv- 
 ities to lure Prince Henry and Jeanne d'Albret into her 
 power. Having secured this marriage for Charles, Cath- 
 erine now declared that Henry must be her son, and 
 offered him the hand of her daughter Marguerite. This 
 princess was beautiful, but was as devoid of principle as 
 her unrighteous mother. 
 
 Jeanne d'Albret was much opposed to this match, but 
 state considerations prevailed at last to gain her consent. 
 It was urged upon her that this marriage would protect 
 the Protestants from persecution, and save France from 
 further bloodshed. Thus did the malevolent but cunning 
 Catherine lure Jeanne to her doom, and entangle Henry 
 in the strong net of her evil designs, which should so long 
 imprison him. 
 
 Even the Admiral Coligni was deceived by the friendly 
 protestations of Catherine de' Medici, and her son, Charles 
 IX., who by this time had become almost evil enough in 
 nature to suit the satanic desires of his atrocious mother. 
 
 Though Catherine and Charles IX. were plotting the 
 entire destruction of the Protestants, using this marriage 
 but as a cloak to cover their sinister plans, Charles IX. 
 with consummate perjury declared : 
 
 " I give my sister in marriage, not only to the prince 
 
252 CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 
 
 of Navarre, but, as it were, to the whole Protestant party. 
 This will be the strongest and closest bond for the main- 
 tenance of peace between my subjects, and a sure evi- 
 dence of my good-will towards the Protestants." 
 
 At this very time he and his mother had planned to 
 lure the leaders of the Protestants to Paris as their guests 
 for the celebration of the wedding festivities ; when at the 
 dire signal they were to be butchered in cold blood. After 
 receiving the queen of Navarre with every manifestation 
 of love, when the French king quite overacted his part, 
 calling Jeanne d'Albret, " his great aunt, his all, his best 
 beloved," the following dialogue is said to have occurred 
 between Catherine and Charles, after the queen of Na- 
 varre had retired. 
 
 " Well, mother," said Charles laughing, " what do you 
 think of it ? Do I play my little part well ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Catherine, "well; but it is of no use 
 unless it continues." 
 
 "Allow me to go on," said this debased king, "and 
 you will see that I shall ensnare them." 
 
 And ensnare them they did truly. Hardly had the 
 queen of Navarre entered the sumptuous apartments 
 provided for her in the court of Catherine, ere she was 
 seized with a violent fever which continued nine days, 
 when she died. 
 
 Henry, her son, had not yet arrived in Paris, but was 
 travelling there more slowly with his retinue. Catherine 
 exhibited the most ostentatious demonstrations of grief. 
 Charles IX. uttered the loudest lamentations, and dis- 
 played the most poignant sorrow. Notwithstanding these 
 efforts to allay suspicions, the report spread through 
 France and Europe that the queen of Navarre had been 
 perfidiously poisoned by Catherine de' Medici. The Pro- 
 
CATHERINE DE> MEDICI. 253 
 
 testant writers assert that Jeanue d'Albret fell a victim to 
 poison, communicated by a pair of perfumed gloves. The 
 Catholics as firmly declare that she died from natural 
 causes. The truth cannot be ascertained. 
 
 But after events make the supposition very strong that 
 Jeanne d'Albret was the first victim in the massacre of 
 St. Bartholomew. Her death necessarily delayed the 
 marriage for a short time, but at length the nuptial day 
 arrived. The Admiral Coligni was with other prominent 
 Protestants lured to Paris. When friends urged him to 
 remain at home and not trust the protestations of the 
 perfidious queen, Coligni, who was much attached to 
 Henry, now the king of Navarre, replied : 
 
 " I confide in the sacred word of his majesty." 
 
 But poor Henry was as great a dupe as any, and he 
 was completely deceived b}^ the cunning wiles of this 
 diabolical mother and son. 
 
 Protestants and Catholics of the highest rank, from all 
 parts of Europe, gathered in Paris to celebrate this 
 marriage, which was looked upon as a great stroke of 
 policy for the furtherance of peace between the conflicting 
 parties. But the haughty spirit of the Princess Margaret 
 had well-nigh defeated the nefarious schemes of her un- 
 principled mother and brother. Piqued that Henry of 
 Navarre should show so little admiration for his betrothed, 
 whom he married onlv for state reasons, she vowed ven- 
 geance, and took a peculiar time to display her unconquer- 
 able pride. In the midst of the imposing nuptial cere- 
 mony, when the officiating bishop asked her if she willingly 
 received Henry of Bourbon for her husband, she pouted 
 coquettishly, threw back her proud head in defiance, and 
 remained silent. Again the question was repeated ; but 
 not all the powers of Europe could break her will. Her 
 
254 CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 
 
 brother, Charles IX., knowing well his sister's obstinacy, 
 relieved this embarrassing situation by coolly walking up 
 behind the haughty beauty, and placing his hand upon the 
 back of her head, compelled an involuntary nod. The 
 confused bishop quickly took the hint, and smilingly pro- 
 ceeded with the ceremony. And thus this fatal marriage 
 was completed. 
 
 The Pope, not aware of the treachery which had been 
 planned, was aghast at such friendly relations between 
 the Catholics and the hated Protestants, and he sent a 
 legate to remonstrate with the French king. As the 
 moment had not arrived to reveal the hellish plot, Charles 
 replied : " I do wish that I could tell you all ; but you 
 and the Pope shall soon know how beneficial this marriage 
 shall prove to the interests of religion. Take my word 
 for it, in a little time the holy father shall have to praise 
 my designs, my piety, and my zeal in behalf of the faith." 
 
 Thus did Catherine de' Medici and Charles dare to 
 mask their infernal schemes under the sacred name of 
 religion. But the end was not yet. Admiral Coligni 
 was the next victim. As he was passing through the 
 streets of Paris, a musket was discharged from the win- 
 dow of a house, and two balls struck Coligni, one entering 
 his left arm and the other cutting off a finger of his right 
 hand. The assassin escaped. The wounded admiral 
 was convej'ed to his apartments, and Henry of Navarre 
 and his Protestant friends gathered around the suffering 
 Coligni. Again Catherine and Charles declared their 
 utter abhorrence of the deed, and were even blasphe- 
 mous in their nois}' protestations of sorrow. 
 
 Meanwhile this guilty pair thus consulted together. 
 Some circumstances seem to indicate that Charles was 
 not a party to the attempt on the life of the admiral; 
 
CATHERINE DE> MEDICI. 255 
 
 but Catherine is said to have thus moved him to entef 
 into her brutal plots : 
 
 " Notwithstanding all your protestations, the deed will 
 certainly be laid to your charge. Civil war will be again 
 enkindled. The chiefs of the Protestants are. now all in 
 Paris. You had better gain the victory at once here than 
 incur the hazard of a new campaign." 
 
 "Well, then," replied Charles, petulantly, "since you 
 approve the murder of the admiral, I am content. But 
 let all the Huguenots also fall, that there may not be one 
 left to reproach me." 
 
 While the young king of Navarre was by the bedside 
 of his wounded friend, the Admiral Coligni, recounting 
 to him the assurances of faith and honor given by Cath- 
 erine and Charles IX., these two were in secret council, 
 debating whether this Henry, the newly-made husband of 
 the daughter of one and the sister of the other, should 
 be included in the dreadful doom appointed for the Prot- 
 estants. It was at length decided that his life should be 
 spared, but that he should be kept in a kind of imprison- 
 ment, and that he should be forced to abjure his Protes- 
 tant faith. 
 
 The young Duke of Guise was to take the lead of this 
 terrible carnage. As he believed that Coligni was a party 
 to the murder of his father, some years before, he de- 
 termined that he should be the first victim of this awful 
 night. He had issued secret orders for all the Catholics 
 " to wear a white cross on the hat, and to bind a piece of 
 white cloth around the arm," that they might be thus 
 distinguished in the darkness of the night. The alarm- 
 bell in the tower of the Palace of Justice was to toll 
 the dire signal for the indiscriminate massacre of the 
 Protestants. The conspiracy extended throughout the 
 
256 CATHERINE DE' MEDICL 
 
 provinces of France. Men, women, and children were 
 to be cut down without mercy. 
 
 "The storm was to burst at the same moment upon 
 the unsuspecting victims in every city and village of the 
 kingdom. Beacon-fires, with their lurid midnight glare, 
 were to flash the tidings from mountain to mountain. 
 The peal of alarm was to ring along from steeple to 
 steeple, from city to hamlet, from valley to hillside, till 
 the whole Catholic population should be aroused to ob- 
 literate every vestige of Protestantism from the land." 
 
 While Catherine and Charles were arranging every de- 
 tail of this monstrous crime, they lavished the warmest 
 and most flattering attention upon the Protestant generals 
 and nobles, whom they had lured within their insidious 
 power. The very clay before that dreadful night Charles 
 entertained many of the most illustrious of the doomed 
 guests at a sumptuous feast in the Louvre, and detained 
 them in the palace all night by the most courteous and 
 pressing invitations to accept his hospitality. 
 
 Henry of Navarre had his suspicions aroused ; but 
 though he was well aware of the utter depravity of 
 Catherine and Charles, he knew not where the blow 
 would fall. The young bride of Henry had not been 
 informed of this vile plot, and when about to retire to 
 her apartments in the palace, her sister Claude, who knew 
 of the coming danger, tried to detain her lest she might 
 suffer harm. Catherine sternly rebuked her daughter, and 
 bade her be silent. But Claude still held Margaret by 
 the arm, and said to Catherine, " It is a shame to send 
 her to be sacrificed, for if anything is discovered, they 
 (meaning the Catholics) will be sure to avenge them- 
 selves upon her." But the fiend-like Catherine, pre- 
 ferring that her own child should risk danger and per- 
 
CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 257 
 
 haps death, rather than that her hellish work should be 
 thwarted, replied: 
 
 44 No harm will befall the queen of Navarre, and it is 
 my pleasure that she retire to her own apartments, 
 lest her absence should create suspicion." Henry, Prince 
 of Joinville, who now held the title of the Duke of Guise, 
 was to be the chief leader of this infernal massacre. 
 
 He had ordered the tocsin, the signal for the massacre, 
 to be tolled at two o'clock in the morning. Meanwhile 
 Catherine and Charles watched in one of the apartments 
 of the Louvre for the fatal knell. Charles was wildly 
 excited. And at last, his mother fearing that his de- 
 termination to carry out this night's hellish work was 
 wavering, she urged him to send a servant at once to 
 sound the alarm. Charles hesitated, and a cold sweat 
 covered his forehead. For with all his depravity he had 
 still remaining a slight spark of humanity ; but the fiend 
 incarnate, his shameful mother, tauntingly exclaimed: 
 "Are you a coward?" Whereupon the tortured king 
 cried, " Well, then begin." 
 
 And so upon the early morning air of a calm Sabbath, 
 Aug. 24, 1572, the direful tocsin pealed forth its death- 
 doom ; and at this signal armed men rushed forth into 
 the streets shouting, " Vive Dieu et le roi!" 
 
 The awful carnage which followed is known in history 
 as the Massacre of St. Bartholomew, because it occurred 
 upon the anniversary of a festival in honor of St. Bar- 
 tholomew, which had long been celebrated. 
 
 As the solemn dirge from the steeple rang out upon 
 the air, the king stood at the window of the palace 
 trembling in every limb, but the demoniacal Catherine was 
 aroused to a frenzy of delight. The first victim was the 
 
258 CATHERINE DE> MEDICI. 
 
 wounded Coligni. The Duke of Guise with three hun- 
 dred soldiers hastened to the lodgings of the admiral, and 
 the gates were forced and the assassins entered the sick 
 man's chamber. Helpless, and abandoned by his fright- 
 ened servants, he was brutally butchered, and his bleeding 
 body was thrown out of the window at the command of 
 the Duke of Guise, who desired to look upon his dead 
 enemy. Giving the mangled corpse a kick in the face, 
 the duke exclaimed: "Courage, comrades, we have hap- 
 pily begun. Let us now go for others. The king com- 
 mands it." 
 
 Sixteen years from that time the Duke of Guise was 
 himself assassinated, and received a kick in the face from 
 Henry III., the brother of Charles IX., in whose service 
 he was performing these diabolical deeds. 
 
 The streets everywhere resounded with the cries of 
 "Kill! kill!" 
 
 At the commencement of the carnage, the queen of 
 Navarre was awakened by a cry at her door : " Navarre ! 
 Navarre ! " Supposing it was her husband, she ordered 
 her attendants to open the door, whereupon a bleeding 
 Huguenot rushed to her bedside and clasped the queen's 
 arm, begging for his life. He was followed by Catholic 
 soldiers ; but at the entreaty of the princess his life was 
 spared. Words are weak to describe the horrors of that 
 direful night. Gory bodies were suspended from the 
 windows ; the dead were piled in heaps in the streets ; 
 the pavements were slippery with the streaming blood ; 
 human heads were kicked as footballs along the boule- 
 vards, by the bestial fiends who had become frenzied with 
 the sight of blood. And in the midst of this awful scene 
 of terror, priests paraded in their sacerdotal robes, bear- 
 ing aloft the crucifixes, and shouting their blasphemous 
 
CATHERINE DE> MEDICI. 259 
 
 hymns of rejoicing, and inciting the demoniacal murder- 
 ers to fresh deeds of hellish hate. Catholic nobles and 
 generals rode through the streets with gorgeous retinues, 
 and called upon the people to wreak their vengeance upon 
 the helpless Protestants. For a whole week the massacre 
 continued, and it is estimated that one hundred thousand 
 Protestants perished throughout the kingdom. 
 
 When the morning was well advanced, Catherine, 
 Charles, and a profligate band of lords and ladies walked 
 through the reeking streets, and gazed with calmness and 
 satisfaction upon the heaps of dead piled up before the 
 Louvre ; and they even indulged in ribald jest and merri- 
 ment. 
 
 The Catholic pulpits resounded with exultant harangues 
 after this hellish work was ended, and in honor of the 
 event a medallion was struck off, with the inscription, 
 " La Piete a reveille la Justice:' 
 
 From every part of Protestant Europe arose a cry of 
 horror. Queen Elizabeth shrouded her court in mourning, 
 and refused to give audience to the French ambassador, 
 who exclaimed in mortification and chagrin, "I am 
 ashamed to acknowledge myself a Frenchman." 
 
 But Philip of Spain, the " Demon of the South," wrote 
 to the infamous Catherine de' Medici : 
 
 "These tidings are the greatest and the most glorious 
 I could have received." 
 
 Amid all the fiend-like deeds of men on earth, the 
 awful Massacre of St. Bartholomew stands without a 
 parallel. 
 
 The massacre of the priests of France during the dread- 
 ful tragedy of the Revolution was human retaliation. In 
 the mysterious providence of God, the " iniquities of the 
 fathers are visited upon the children." " The 24th of 
 
260 CATHERINE DE 1 MEDICI. 
 
 August, 1572, and the 2d of September, 1792, though 
 far apart in the records of time, are consecutive days in 
 the government of God." 
 
 Upon the morning of St. Bartholomew's day a band of 
 armed men entered the apartments of the king of Navarre, 
 and conveyed him to the presence of the king of France. 
 Frenzied with the scenes of blood he had already wit- 
 nessed, Charles with curses and blasphemous imprecations 
 commanded the king of Navarre, as he valued his life, to 
 abjure the Protestant faith. Charles gave him three days 
 to consider the question, and declared that at the end of 
 that time if he did not obey he should be strangled. 
 Henry yielded, and this blot upon his name was only 
 removed when, in 1598, as Henry IV. of France, he issued 
 his famous Edict of Nantes, which granted the Protes- 
 tants full liberty of conscience. 
 
 Two years after the Massacre of St. Bartholomew, 
 Charles IX. lay upon his death-bed. Not one hour of 
 peace had he known since that fatal event. His nights 
 had been filled with spectres of blood and murder, his 
 troubled sleep had been haunted with visions of horror. 
 His old nurse, though a Huguenot, had been saved by the 
 king's order, and she now watched with him in these last 
 moments. One night, hearing the king moaning, weep- 
 ing, and sighing, she went gently up to his bed and drew 
 aside the curtains. "Ah, nurse, nurse," cried the king, 
 " what bloodshed and what murders ! Ah, what evil 
 counsel have I followed ! O, my God ! forgive me them, 
 and have mercy upon me ! What shall I do ? I am lost ; 
 I see it well ! " And with this hopeless wail of remorse, 
 Charles IX. expired. 
 
 But no emotions of regret or sorrow moved the stony 
 heart of Catherine de' Medici. Having debased this son 
 
CATHERINE DE 1 MEDICI. 261 
 
 to her foul designs, she now spurned him in contempt for 
 his exhibitions of remorse. When her third and favorite 
 son, Henry, departed for Poland, of which kingdom he 
 had been elected king, she said to him: " Go, you will 
 not be long away." For even before Charles was dead 
 she was looking forward with satisfaction to that probable 
 event, as a means of giving the throne of France to her 
 favorite child. But when, in 1574, Henry ascended the 
 French throne as Henry III., Catherine's power was 
 already weakened, and she found that her son would not 
 be a pliant tool in her wicked hands. Not that he was 
 aught but worthless and vicious, but their evil plans no 
 longer harmonized. Their government for fifteen years 
 served only to make them lose their reputation for ability. 
 The tact of this utterly corrupted woman, and the weak- 
 ness of this irresolute prince, were feeble instruments in 
 taming the Catholics and Protestants who were now both 
 rising in rebellion around them. 
 
 The Catholics formed a League under the brave but 
 infamous Duke of Guise. 
 
 There were now three Henrys. Henry III., king of 
 France, Henry, king of Navarre, and Henry, duke of 
 Guise. The war which followed between those parties is 
 called the War of the Three Henrys. 
 
 We cannot give details, but during these contests, 
 which became religious wars, Henry of Guise was assassi- 
 nated and the corpse was kicked in the face b}' Henry III., 
 who afterwards repaired to the sick-bed of Catherine de' 
 Medici, and exclaimed : 
 
 "I have made myself this morning king of France 
 by putting to death the king of Paris," which was the 
 title given to the Duke of Guise. 
 
 ''Take care," replied his heartless mother, "that you 
 do not soon find yourself king of nothing ! " 
 
262 CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 
 
 And king of nothing be soon was, though Catherine de' 
 Medici did not live to see his downfall. In twelve days 
 after she had thus heard, without the slightest emotion, 
 of the assassination of the duke who had been her most 
 zealous worker in the infamous Massacre of St. Bartholo- 
 mew, this iniquitous queen, the personification of every 
 vice, who had lured all around her to destruction, who 
 had been always accompanied by bands of the most pro- 
 fligate but beautiful women, known as her infamous Flying 
 Squadron, who by their fascinating wiles should secure 
 the victims her own cunning could not reach ; this woman, 
 without a single redeeming virtue, despised by the 
 Catholics, and hated by the Protestants, and execrated 
 by the world, this fiendish spirit was at length the prey 
 of the grim conqueror, Death. 
 
 Seven months after the death of Catherine de' Medici, 
 Henry III. was assassinated by a monk, and Henry of 
 Navarre was proclaimed king of France as Henry IV. 
 Thus had all Catherine de' Medici's vile scheming come to 
 naught. She and her sons died with the curses of the 
 nation on their heads, while the son of the illustrious and 
 faithful Huguenot, Jeanne d'Albret, sat upon the throne 
 of France. 
 
QUEEN ANNE. 263 
 
 QUEEN ANNE. 
 
 A.D. 1664-1714. 
 
 "A partial world will listen to my lays, 
 While Anna reigns, and sets a female name 
 Unrivall'd in the glorious lists of fame." YOUNG. 
 
 SOME monarchs make their reign illustrious by their 
 own individual characters and famous deeds ; other 
 sovereigns are illustrious only because their reigns have 
 been important epochs in the annals of history, irrespec- 
 tive of any merits of their own, or any renowned actions or 
 policies on their part. Upon the importance of certain 
 political and religious aspects of the times of the "Good 
 Queen Anne " rest all her claims to be enrolled upon the 
 lists of fame. 
 
 One kind and generous deed, however, must be cred- 
 ited to her own good-natured heart. Without possessing 
 any of the refined tastes and mental capabilities of the 
 Stuart royal line, of which she was the last representative 
 upon the English throne, she nevertheless inherited the 
 generous disposition of her race, and she has made her 
 individual name to be held in loving remembrance by 
 her people, by the liberal fund which she relinquished 
 from her own entitled rights, in favor of the poor clergy, 
 whose petty livings, or rather " starvings," had made the 
 lives of some of the most excellent and worthy in that 
 profession really objects of charitable commiseration. 
 The fund set apart for the relief of poor clergymen was 
 called ." Queen Anne's Bounty "; and surely this beauti- 
 
264 QUEEN ANNE. 
 
 ful charity, which placed her name high upon the list of 
 royal foundresses in the Christian church, must needs 
 cover man} 7 of her glaring defects of mind and character 
 beneath the shining mantle of unselfish benevolence. 
 
 Another claim which makes Queen Anne personally 
 illustrious is the fact that she was the first monarch 
 crowned as the sovereign of United Great Britain. Scot- 
 land had been united with England under James I., but 
 only during the reign of Queen Anne was the union made 
 complete ; and in October, 1707, the Parliament of Great 
 Britain sat for the first time. 
 
 " To have first thought of the Union was William III.'s 
 last title to glory ; to Queen Anne's counsellors, in par- 
 ticular to Lord Somers, belongs the honor of having ac- 
 complished the work and achieved the enterprise, in spite 
 of much violence and many obstacles. The representa- 
 tion of Scotland in the United Parliament of Great Britain 
 was decided rather by its historical status as an independ- 
 ent kingdom than by the proportion of its population ; 
 forty-five representatives and sixteen Scottish peers were 
 to sit in Parliament." 
 
 Thus Queen Anne is known in history as the first sov- 
 ereign of Great Britain. 
 
 Anne Stuart was the second daughter of James, Duke 
 of York, 3'ounger brother of Charles II. of England. Her 
 mother was Anne Hyde, the daughter of the illustrious 
 Lord Chancellor Clarendon. The Princess Anne was born 
 in 1664, and at the age of five years she was sent to 
 France on account of her delicate health, and while she 
 was in that country, in 1671, her mother died. In two 
 years after, her father, Duke James, was married to Maria 
 of Modena. This duchess was a kind and estimable 
 lady ; but as she was a Roman Catholic and as Duke 
 
QUEEN ANNE. 265 
 
 James had also embraced that faith, Charles II. ordered 
 that the Princess Anne and her elder sister, the Princess 
 Mary, should be educated in the Protestant religion, as 
 his prospective successors after their father. Their father 
 never attempted to interfere with their Protestant educa- 
 tion, though they were allowed to reside in the same pal- 
 ace with him. 
 
 In 1667 the Princess Mary was married to William, 
 Prince of Orange ; and in 1679 her father was driven into 
 exile, and the Princess Anne and her step-mother were 
 permitted by Charles II. to reside with the exiled Duke 
 of York for some months in Brussels. 
 
 Previously to this time the friendship between the 
 Princess Anne and Sarah Jennings had been formed, 
 which in after-years exerted so important an influence 
 upon the destinies of both lives, and even became a re- 
 markable factor in determining the results of various por- 
 tehtious political changes in Europe. 
 
 The elder sister of Sarah Jennings had been a maid of 
 honor to the first Duchess of York, the mother of Anne ; 
 and when that princess was about nine years of age, 
 Sarah, who was then twelve years old, became the con- 
 stant companion of the young princess. Even in child- 
 hood Sarah Jennings manifested many of the strong char- 
 acteristics of mind and will which gave her the overpower- 
 ing ascendency over the weak and good-natured Anne 
 which she maintained with such remarkable influence 
 after Anne became queen of England, and Sarah the 
 Duchess of Marlborough. 
 
 In 1678 Sarah Jennings married Colonel Churchill, 
 afterwards Duke of Marlborough, a gentleman attached 
 to the service of the Duke of York ; and when Duke James 
 was sent into exile the Churchills accompanied his family, 
 
266 QUEEN ANNE. 
 
 and thus Anne was still permitted to enjoy the presence 
 of her favorite friend. 
 
 When James was recalled to England, his daughter 
 Anne and Sarah Churchill returned to their native 
 land ; and upon the marriage of the Princess Anne 
 to Prince George of Denmark, in 1683, King Charles 
 of England settled upon his niece and her husband 
 the sum of 20,000 a year, and gave to her as 
 a residence the Cockpit, a capacious building which 
 had formerly been the theatre of Whitehall Palace. 
 Prince George Louis of Hanover, afterwards George I. 
 of England, had been a former suitor for the hand of the 
 Princess Anne, but on account of mutual aversion, when 
 the royal couple met for the first time, the match was 
 broken off, and the Prince of Denmark became the suc- 
 cessful suitor. The Prince of Denmark was poor and was 
 possessed of little influence, but he was a Protestant, and 
 that was esteemed a sufficient merit in his favor. He is 
 described as a " fair, good-natured, heavy-looking young 
 man, who spoke bad French, loved good wine, and was 
 rather awkward and bashful in his manners. He succeed- 
 ed, however, in pleasing the ' gentle Lady Anne ' ; and as 
 they were both endued with good dispositions and equal 
 tempers, and neither of them very capable of discovering 
 each other's deficiencies, this marriage proved extremely 
 happy, and they lived together in uninterrupted har- 
 mony " ; though, like most royal marriages, the princess 
 and her future husband were allowed a very short time to 
 make each other's acquaintance ; for the marriage took 
 place nine days after the Prince of Denmark had been 
 welcomed to London by the king and queen of England 
 and the parents of his future bride. The nuptial cere- 
 mony was celebrated with great pomp, in the Koyal 
 
QUEEN ANNE. 267 
 
 Chapel at Saint James's, by the Bishop of London, at ten 
 o'clock at night. 
 
 "The bride was given away by her merry uncle, Charles 
 II., who delighted in being present at marriages and chris- 
 tenings. The chapel was brilliantly lighted ; and as the 
 king, the queen, the Duke and Duchess of York, and 
 the leading nobility then in London were present, the 
 scene was magnificent, dazzling, and joyous. The citizens 
 of London also took their part in the nocturnal festivity. 
 Throughout the metropolis the bells rang all night, bon- 
 fires blazed at every door, the conduits ran with wine, and 
 showers of fireworks and other popular sports and pas- 
 times were provided for the amusement of the people." 
 
 "The Lady Anne, although not a peerless beauty, pos- 
 sessed considerable personal attractions. She was of mid- 
 dle size, but not so majestic as her sister Mary ; and her 
 hair was a deep, chestnut-brown ; her complexion ruddy. 
 Her face was round, but rather comely than handsome ; 
 her features were strong and regular ; the only blemish in 
 her face was that of a defluxion, which had affected her 
 eyes when young, and left a contraction in her upper lids 
 and given a cloudiness to her countenance. Her bones 
 were small, her hands beautiful. She had an excellent ear 
 for music, was a good performer on the guitar ; and her 
 voice being strong, clear, flexible, and melodious, she 
 took pleasure in the practice of vocal harmony." 
 
 When Anne's establishment was appointed by her un- 
 cle, King Charles, after her marriage, Sarah Churchill was 
 permitted to become one of her ladies. 
 
 The death of Charles II. in 1685, which placed her 
 father upon the English throne, as James II., caused very 
 little immediate change in the household of the Princess 
 Anne. She became one of the central figures at her 
 
268 QUEEN ANNE. 
 
 father's court, but possessed no particular influence, and 
 occupied herself with court gossip and card-playing, in the 
 society of her favorite, Lady Churchill, when not engaged 
 with the cares of her nursery. The Princess Anne was a 
 good wife and devoted mother ; and although all her chil- 
 dren but one died in early infancy, it was not through 
 neglect on her part. But Anne was poorly fitted by 
 tastes or nature to play the brilliant part in history 
 which fortune afterwards decreed to her lot. She was 
 simply a good-natured, commonplace, and very weak- 
 minded woman, led by the stronger minds of her favor- 
 ites, and swayed by every political breeze around her. 
 Her favorites, to her credit be it said, however, were 
 women, and not men admirers. So that although her 
 character was undeniably weak and petty, her life as a 
 wife and mother was blameless, and her heart was kindly. 
 And yet such were the circumstances which environed 
 her after-years, that the name of this simple-minded 
 queen, whose narrow understanding might have been 
 compassed b} T the circumference of her thimble, and " who 
 put on her crown as she would have put on her cap " 
 the name of this unaspiring, unqueenly woman, who 
 would have been more at home as a fish-wife than as a 
 sovereign, was pronounced with awe from one end of 
 Europe to the other ; and even the Grand Monarque him- 
 self, "hitherto the insolent arbiter of the world," the 
 magnificent, the matchlessly imperial Louis Quatorze, 
 trembled on his throne before Queen Anne and her victo- 
 rious general, the Duke of Marlborough. 
 
 The French general, the Duke of Vendome, who re- 
 placed the defeated Marshal Villeroi, wrote concerning 
 Anne's illustrious military leader : 
 
 " Every one here is ready to take off his hat at the very 
 mention of Marlborongh's name." 
 
QUEEN ANNE. 269 
 
 When, in after-years, the daring generalship of Marl- 
 borough had been replaced by the daring ambition of 
 Bolingbroke, whose marvellous and impassioned eloquence 
 caused even Mr. Pitt in later } r ears to exclaim, when 
 asked what treasures he would especially like to snatch 
 from out of the shadows of the past, "I would choose 
 one of the lost Decades of Livy and a speech of Boling- 
 broke's ! " no wonder that with such generals and such 
 orators, the name of Queen Anne was reflected to the 
 world in shining glory. 
 
 And what was the woman herself doing in the midst of 
 such stirring times and brilliant opportunities? Quarrel- 
 ling with the haughty, arrogant-willed Duchess of Marl- 
 borough ; bickering over some contested point of favorit- 
 ism ; or becoming a puppet in the hands of an ignorant 
 bedchamber-woman, who ruled the queen because this 
 politic but petty Mrs. Masham knew enough to hold her 
 tongue when her royal mistress desired to rave against 
 her overbearing Duchess of Marlborough ; and because 
 Mrs. Masham was smart enough to use her little stock of 
 brains in scheming to entrap the favor of the wily politi- 
 cians who courted her smiles because her ignorant but 
 keen cunning had gained the friendship of the queen. 
 
 Observing such a state of things, it is little wonder that 
 the quick-witted Addison flashed the scintillating sparks 
 of his keen humor all over the pages of his famous "Spec- 
 tator papers," which appeared at that time. 
 
 Great Britain had been for some time divided into two 
 strong parties, known as the Whigs and Tories. The 
 Tories held that the rights of kings were divine, while 
 the Whigs contended a king ruled for the good of his sub- 
 jects, and that by illegal or oppressive acts he forfeited 
 his right to reign, and could be justifiably dethroned by 
 
270 QUEEN ANNE. 
 
 his people. The Tories upheld the English Protestant 
 church, but detested the Presbyterians and Dissenters, 
 while the} 7 feared the Roman Catholics ; while the Whigs 
 maintained that the Reformed religion being the religion 
 of the state, a Roman Catholic could not lawfully be 
 placed at its head. There was also a third party, called 
 the Jacobites, who were more violent Tories, being par- 
 tisans of the deposed James II., who, on account of his 
 Roman Catholic principles, which caused him to entertain 
 certain designs against the religion and liberty of the 
 state, had been obliged to fly from England upon the ap- 
 pearance of his Protestant son-in-law, William, Prince of 
 Orange, who had invaded England at the head of an army, 
 and been placed by the English people upon the throne 
 in conjunction with his wife Mary, the eldest daughter of 
 James II., who had been educated a Protestant. 
 
 Notwithstanding the benefit to the country arising from 
 the accession of the Protestant William and Mary to the 
 throne in place of the Catholic James II., the unfilial plot- 
 tings and intrigues of the princesses Mary and Anne, 
 abetted by their husbands, William, Prince of Orange, 
 and George, Duke of Denmark, against the indulgent 
 and kind-hearted James II., their father, was outrageous 
 and dastardly. Looking at the kingdom, it was well that 
 James II. was dethroned, and that his Catholic son, called 
 the " Pretender," the half-brother of Mary and Anne, 
 was forever debarred from gaining his ancestral rights of 
 succession ; but looking at the side of the treatment 
 which King James received at the hands of his daughters, 
 upon whom he had lavished every indulgent kindness, 
 the treacherous scheming, which in the course of events 
 resulted in vast benefits to England and to Europe, have 
 at the same time forever covered the names of the chil- 
 
QUEEN ANNE. 271 
 
 dren of James II. with the stigma of most contemptible 
 and unfeeling and wicked ingratitude. 
 
 James II. having been deposed, William and Mary of 
 Orange ascended the throne of England, and William is 
 to be commended for several wise measures, and England 
 was much the gainer by her change of masters ; but his 
 usurpation, which is called in history the "Revolution," 
 is somewhat to be questioned upon the grounds of justice. 
 That it was highly beneficial no Protestant can for a 
 moment doubt ; that the change of government caused 
 by the celebrated act of Parliament called the " Bill of 
 Rights," which raised William and Mary to the throne, 
 to be succeeded by the Princess Anne, and in case Anne 
 died without heirs, that the right should then descend to 
 the Electress of Hanover, which succession afterwards 
 brought in the Protestant Georges of Hanover in place 
 of the Catholic House of Stuarts, that a revolution 
 which caused this change of government was beneficial to 
 England and the world, is not to be underestimated. 
 This extraordinary but bloodless revolution occurred in 
 1688, just one hundred years before the bloody and terri- 
 ble French Revolution of 1789. But leaving political 
 questions and turning to the personal history of the Prin- 
 cess Anne, we find her engaged in an ignoble squabble 
 with her sister, the Queen Mary, over the allowance which 
 shall be allotted to the maintenance of the household of 
 the Princess Anne. The princess had schemed with her 
 sister Mary and the Prince of Orange to dethrone their 
 father ; and now that Mary is queen, Anne finds her 
 allowance given by her indulgent father cut off, and in 
 being treacherous to her father she has only worsted her 
 own condition. So disgraceful was this sisterly quarrel, 
 augmented by the haughty Lady Churchill (now the 
 
272 QUEEN ANNE. 
 
 Countess of Marlborough) , who fomented the disputes 
 between the sisters, that at last the king and queen were 
 forced to make a compromise with Anne, and allow the 
 princess 50,000 a year. As Lord and Lady Marlbo- 
 rough were known to be enthusiastic partisans of Anne, 
 the} 7 fell under the displeasure of King William and Queen 
 Mary, who demanded that Anne should banish them from 
 her household, and the Earl of Marlborough was deprived 
 of his offices. But this opposition only increased the 
 power of Lord and Lady Marlborough over the princess, 
 and she strenuously refused to part with her overbearing 
 favorite. 
 
 The lord chamberlain having been sent to Lady Marl- 
 borough with the royal order to remove from Whitehall, 
 Anne immediately left Whitehall herself, declaring that 
 she " would live on bread and water, between four walls, 
 with her dear Mrs. Freeman, rather than that her friend 
 should ever be separated from her faithful Mrs. Morley." 
 These assumed names of Freeman and Morley had been 
 chosen by the Princess Anne and Lady Marlborough that 
 they might converse and write to each other with greater 
 freedom from conventional restraints ; and their respec- 
 tive husbands were also called by them, the Lord Marl- 
 borough, Mr. Freeman, and the Duke of Denmark, Mr. 
 Morley ; and many were the political intrigues, as well as 
 friendly secrets, which they disclosed to each other under 
 these false names. These confidential letters became a 
 powerful weapon in the hands of the proud Lady Marl- 
 borough in after-years, for when she found her influence 
 over Queen Anne was waning, and another was usurping 
 her place as royal favorite, the arrogant Lady Marlbo- 
 rough threatened to publish these secret epistles, which 
 would reveal all of Anne's treachery against her father 
 
QUEEN ANNE. 273 
 
 and various other political intrigues. The fear of this 
 exposure made Anne a puppet in the hands of the self- 
 willed but brilliant duchess long after Anne's intense 
 liking had turned to intense detestation. 
 
 The death of Queen Mary in 1694 somewhat changed 
 Anne's position. When Anne heard of her sister's dan- 
 gerous illness, she sent a request that she might be 
 allowed to come and see her ; but their quarrels had never 
 been forgotten, and though Mary refused to see Anne, 
 she sent a message of forgiveness. 
 
 Anne now succeeded in becoming reconciled to King 
 William, and she received the greater part of her sister's 
 jewels, in token of his friendliness. 
 
 Of many children Anne had only one son remaining. 
 He was a very bright and interesting boy of eleven years 
 of age. He had been treated with great kindness by 
 King William and Queen Mary, even throughout the dis- 
 graceful family quarrels. But this beautiful boy, around 
 whom so many fond hopes clustered, died suddenly with 
 scarlet fever in 1700, having just celebrated his eleventh 
 birthday. The loss of this only child, the last of six, 
 was a terrible blow to the fond heart of the Princess 
 Anne. But she was soon called from private griefs to 
 public duties. 
 
 In 1702 King William died, and Anne was immediately 
 proclaimed queen. 
 
 " In the commencement of the reign of Anne, the Earl cf 
 Marlborough was a Tory ; but his wife became a Whig, 
 and, as a natural consequence, Marlborough was soon 
 drawn over to that party. Admiral Churchill, his brother, 
 was a violent Tory ; Lord Sunderland, his son-in-law, 
 was a violent Whig ; Lady Tyrconnel, the sister of Lady 
 Marlborough, was an enthusiastic Jacobite, and was at 
 
274 QUEEN ANNE. 
 
 this time one of the court of the exiled king. This one 
 instance will give some idea of the manner in which not 
 only the nation but private families were divided by the 
 spirit of faction. 
 
 u A continued series of disputes and intrigues agitated 
 the country ; and among several minor events was the 
 trial of Dr. Sacheverel for preaching a seditious sermon, 
 a circumstance unimportant in itself, but which was made 
 to serve the purposes of a faction, and to inflame the 
 populace almost to frenzy. Never, perhaps, did party 
 spirit rage in a manner at once so disgraceful, so vicious, 
 and so ludicrous. It was not the strife of principles ; 
 it was not, like the civil wars of the preceding centur} r , 
 a grand struggle between liberty and despotism, it 
 was a vile spirit of faction, which had filled the nation 
 with spleen and rancor, and extinguished the seeds of 
 good-nature, compassion, and humanity ; which had af- 
 fected at once the morals and the common sense of the 
 people ; and even interfered with the administration of 
 justice. 
 
 "The women, instead of tempering the animosities of 
 the time, blew up the flame of discord. Addison, in 
 some of the most elegant papers of the 'Spectator,' 
 attempted to mitigate this evil spirit. He attacked the 
 men with grave humor and graver argument ; he endeav- 
 ored to bring back the women to the decorum and reserve 
 of their sex by the most exquisite raillery, that delicate 
 mixture of satire and compliment in which he excelled ; 
 he reminded these petticoat politicians and viragoes of 
 the tea-table that party spirit was in its nature a male 
 vice, made up of many angry passions, which were alto- 
 gether repugnant to the softness, modesty, and other 
 endearing qualities proper to their sex. 
 
QUEEN ANNE. 275 
 
 " He assured them there was nothing so injurious to a 
 pretty face as party zeal ; that he had never known a 
 party woman who kept her beauty for a twelve-month ; 
 and he conjured them, as they valued their complexions, 
 to abstain from all disputes of this nature. Every one 
 will recollect the admirable description of the Whig ladies 
 and the Tory ladies drawn up in battle array at the opera, 
 and patched, by way of distinction, on opposite sides of 
 the face ; the perplexity of the Whig beauty, who had a 
 mole on the Tory side of her forehead, which exposed her 
 to the imputation of having gone over to the enemy ; and 
 the despair of the Tory partisan, whom an unlucky pimple 
 had reduced to the necessit}' of applying a patch to the 
 wrong side of her face. 
 
 " But it was all in vain ; a transient smile might have 
 been excited at such palpable absurdity ; some partial 
 good was perhaps effected ; but fashion and faction were 
 far too strong to be acted upon by wit, or argument, or 
 eloquence, or satire. At a time when a low-bred, artful, 
 ignorant bedchamber-woman., with no more sense than 
 would have sufficed to smooth a crumpled ribbon or comb 
 a lapdog, possessed supreme power, and Swift, Arbuth- 
 not, Harley, and Bolingbroke were dancing attendance in 
 her anteroom, it was in vain to preach to women the 
 forbearance and reserve proper to their sex, to point out 
 the confined sphere of their duties, or to remind them of 
 the advice of Pericles to the Athenian women, ' not to 
 make themselves talked of one way or another/ Mrs. 
 Masham ruled the queen, but she was herself the con- 
 temptible tool of a set of designing men. In the end she 
 and her tutor Harley triumphed ; the Tories prevailed ; the 
 Whigs were all turned out ; Marlborough was not only 
 disgraced at court, but, by a sudden turn of feeling pro- 
 
276 QUEEN ANNE. 
 
 duced in the popular mind by the calumnies and contriv< 
 ance of his enemies, he became an object of contempt and 
 hatred ; and he whose victories had been hailed with such 
 national pride and exultation, found himself ' baited with 
 the rabble's curse.' This might have been contemned, 
 for mere popular clamor dies away, and leaves no trace 
 on the dispassionate page of history ; but when Swift, the 
 political gladiator of that time, collected all his terrible 
 powers of invective ani satire and sarcasm, and fell 
 upon the devoted general, branding, stabbing, and slash- 
 ing at every stroke, he left the duke standing like a 
 column scathed by the thunderbolt, and the lapse of "a 
 century has hardly enabled us to distinguish the truth 
 from falsehood of his rancorous libels." 
 
 The brilliant victories of the Duke of Marlborough, in 
 alliance with the German princes under Prince Eugene, 
 had filled all Europe with wonder. In 1704, the victory 
 of Blenheim was achieved, and notwithstanding Marshal 
 Villars' heroism at the battle of Malplaquet, in 1709, the 
 victory was gained by Marlborough and Prince Eugene, 
 though so great was the loss of the allies, that Villars 
 wrote to Louis XIV. : "If God permits us to lose such 
 another battle, your Majesty can count on your enemies 
 being destroyed." 
 
 Marlborough had joined the Whigs because they were 
 in favor of war ; but now the Tories were gaining the 
 ascendency in England ; and with their coming into power 
 peace was declared, and the Marlboroughs were deposed 
 from their high places. 
 
 Wearied of the ill-temper of the haughty duchess, 
 which broke out in most violent language even in the 
 presence of the queen, Anne at last determined to rid 
 herself of her overbearing companion, whose strong will 
 
QUEEN ANNE. 277 
 
 had for so long a time awed her into submission ; while 
 the necessary military generalship of the illustrious duke 
 had long kept the queen from daring to dismiss the insolent 
 duchess, who at length forgot even her politic behavior 
 in her fits of anger, and endeavored to scold back the 
 favor of the queen which had been lost to her by her own 
 impolitic arrogance, and through the wily cunning of her 
 own relation, Mrs. Masham, whom she had herself recom- 
 mended to the queen for the position of bedchamber- 
 woman, never imagining that this poor ignorant relative 
 would usurp her own place as royal favorite. 
 
 Before Anne had ascended the throne, a little incident 
 occurred which eventually led to the downfall of the 
 duchess. The Princess Anne was one day alone in her 
 private drawing-room at St. James. The Duchess of 
 Marlborough entered the anteroom where the princess' 
 waiting-woman, afterwards Mrs. Masham, was in attend- 
 ance. Observing a pair of gloves upon the table, the 
 duchess, thinking the}' were her own, drew them upon her 
 hands. Whereupon the attendant remarked that the 
 gloves belonged to the princess, who had sent her to get 
 them, as her mistress was about to enter her carriage. 
 ' ' What ! have I touched anything that has been upon the 
 hands of that odious woman ! " exclaimed the duchess in 
 a fury of ill-temper ; and tearing them from her fingers 
 she threw them on the floor and retired, little thinking 
 that the insulting words had been overheard by the prin- 
 cess in the adjoining room. From that moment the ulti- 
 mate disgrace of the imperious duchess was determined 
 upon, although, owing to her husband's victories and her 
 own threats of publishing the confidential letters of her 
 "loving Mrs. Morley," her downfall was long delayed. 
 
 Queen Anne had not ceased to be a loving wife, when 
 
278 QUEEN ANNE. 
 
 she became a sovereign ; and the death of her husband in 
 1708 was a terrible blow to her. As the queen sat by 
 her dead, though she was the monarch of a vast realm, 
 she was the slave of court etiquette ; and as the Duchess 
 of Maryborough still held her office as mistress of the 
 robes, this tyrannical etiquette required that the hated 
 duchess should invade even the sanctuary of Anne's be- 
 loved dead, and lead the queen from the funereal chamber. 
 
 But the days of the ascendency of the brilliant but 
 terrible virago were nearty numbered. In 1710, the Whig 
 ministry was deposed, and the Tories came into power. 
 
 u Anne could not cope with her discarded favorite in 
 eloquence and violence, but she could resist and dissem- 
 ble ; above all, she could hold her tongue." Influenced 
 by the Tories, who gained the ear of the queen through 
 the connivance of Mrs. Masham, it was secretly arranged 
 that the Whig ministry should be forced to retire ; that 
 the Marlboroughs should be disgraced, and that peace 
 should be negotiated with Louis XIV. The proud duchess 
 had not yet been publicly informed of her impending down- 
 fall, but rumors had reached her of the queen's animosity. 
 Hastening to Kensington, she forced herself into the pres- 
 ence of the queen, and demanded with the air of a sover- 
 eign rather than a subject, of what she was accused. 
 The queen, aware that her only weapon against the sar- 
 castic and voluble tongue of the duchess was silence, 
 remarked with cutting composure : "I shall make no 
 answer to anything you say." This was more than the 
 enraged duchess could bear, and she launched forth into 
 such a terrible tongue-lashing of violent vituperation, 
 that the incensed queen turned to leave the room ; where- 
 upon the duchess exclaimed, " I am confident you will 
 suffer in this world or the next for so much inhumanity." 
 
QUEEN ANNE. 279 
 
 "That is my business," retorted the queen, as she 
 lifted the portiere and retired, leaving the discomfited 
 duchess to weep in a fury of rage and humiliation. 
 
 They never met again. When the Duke of Marlborough 
 returned from his campaign, not all his condescension in 
 begging on his knees that the golden key, his wife's 
 badge of office, might be retained by her for a few weeks 
 sufficed to appease the queen. " I will have it in two 
 days," exclaimed the angry Anne ; and upon reporting 
 his failure to his indignant wife, she also hurled upon his 
 poor head her invectives of wrath, and throwing the 
 golden keys upon the floor, the haughty virago, who had 
 lost all power over her queen, but still maintained her 
 ascendency in her husband's heart in spite of all her out- 
 bursts of temper, sullenly retired, leaving her humiliated 
 spouse to pick up her tardily relinquished badge of office 
 and meekly bear it back in shame and sorrow to her 
 offended sovereign. Hard fate for a man to fall into the 
 snare of playing the go-between of two angry women, 
 especially when one is his wife and the other his sover- 
 eign. 
 
 The Duke and Duchess of Marlborough afterwards 
 went abroad, and their history is no longer connected with 
 that of Queen Anne. 
 
 The famous peace of Utrecht was signed in 1713. 
 The remainder of Queen Anne's reign was unmomentous. 
 After her experience with the Duchess of Marlborough 
 she determined to assert her own will, but she deceived no 
 one but herself, as she was now alternately swayed by 
 lier two favorites, the Duchess of Somerset, who was 
 appointed mistress of the robes, and Lady Masham, whom 
 she had raised to a title and made the keeper of the 
 privy purse. Swift says of Anne at this time : 
 
280 QUEEN ANNE. 
 
 "Often, out of fear of being imposed upon by an 
 over-caution, she would impose upon herself ; she took a 
 delight in refusing those who were thought to have the 
 greatest power with her, even in the most reasonable 
 things, and such as were necessary for her service ; nor 
 would let them be done till she fell into the humor of it 
 herself." 
 
 In her best days, Anne was merely a dull, uninformed 
 woman, without the slightest literary tastes, and yet her 
 reign is called the "Augustan Age of Anne," and 
 the " wits of Queen Anne's time" are held only second 
 to the " poets of the Elizabethan age." No one would 
 probably have been more surprised than Anne herself 
 to have been thus classed with the glorious names 
 of literary fame, for she never read, and was hardly 
 cognizant of the existence of the brilliant minds which 
 gave her reign its brightest lustre. Sir Isaac Newton, 
 Pope, Diyden, Addison, Steele, Swift, De Foe, Gay, 
 Prior, Arbuthnot, Congreve, Young, Parnell, Granville, 
 and Bishop Atterbury, were the most celebrated among 
 the literary lights in her time. 
 
 The daily etiquette of the court life of Queen Anne is 
 thus described : 
 
 "The bedchamber- woman came into waiting before 
 her majesty arose, and previous to prayers. If a lady of 
 the bedchamber were present, the bedchamber-woman 
 handed her the queen's linen, and the lady put it on her 
 Majesty. Every time the queen changed her dress in the 
 course of the day her habiliments made the same formal 
 progress from hand to hand. When the queen washed 
 her hands, her page of the back stairs brought and set 
 upon a side-table a basin and ewer. Then the bed- 
 chamber-woman placed it before the queen, and knelt 
 
QUEEN ANNE. 281 
 
 on the other side of the table over against the queen, the 
 lady of the bedchamber only looking on. The bed- 
 chamber-woman poured the water out of the ewer on the 
 queen's hands. It was also her duty to pull on the queen's 
 gloves when her Majesty could not do it herself, which was 
 often the case, owing to her infirmity of gout. The page 
 of the back stairs was always called to put on the queen's 
 shoes. When Queen Anne dined in public, her page 
 passed the glass to her bedchamber- woman, and she to 
 the lady in waiting ; in due time it reached the lips of 
 royalty." 
 
 There was little of the pomp and ceremony which dis- 
 tinguished the court of the proud Elizabeth ; indeed, Anne 
 herself was too careless and dull-witted, and the imperious 
 Duchess of Marlborough was too defiant of all restraints 
 to have insured that subservient obeisance which Elizabeth 
 demanded and received. Having been obliged, even in 
 her coronation procession, to be borne in a low arm-chair 
 on account of her gout, which prevented her walking in 
 regal majest} T as all her predecessors had done, she con- 
 tinued subject to this infirmity, which her gross eating 
 and drinking greatly increased. The stormy disputes 
 between her ministers, Oxford and Bolingbroke, became 
 so violent that at length the fear of having to submit to 
 a third terrible council with them, after two hot disputes 
 had been interrupted by her attacks of violent illness, 
 caused a burning fever, which threatened her life. Sub- 
 mitting to the old remedy of bleeding, she was found to 
 be no better, and it was evident that her end was near. 
 Oxford having resigned his office of lord treasurer in a 
 rage, it became necessary to appoint some one in his place. 
 The Duke of Shrewsbury was suggested for the office, but 
 he would not accept the staff unless the queen herself laid 
 
QUEEN ANNE. 
 
 it in his hand. Accordingly the white wand was placed 
 in the stiffening fingers of the dying queen, and the Duke 
 of Shrewsbury, approaching her bedside, asked : 
 
 " Do you know to whom you give the white wand?" 
 
 " Yes," murmured the still-conscious queen; "to the 
 Duke of Shrewsbury ; and for God's sake, use it for the 
 good of my people ! " 
 
 Thus perished the last of the sovereigns of the House 
 of Stuart. 
 
 " The British sovereign is dead and the throne is 
 vacant," were the few but expressive words sent to 
 George of Hanover ; and without opposition, King 
 George I. ascended the throne of Great Britain. 
 
MARIA THERESA. 283 
 
 MARIA THERESA. 
 
 A.D. 1717-1780. 
 
 " 'Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud ; 
 'Tis virtue that doth make them most admir'd ; 
 'Tis government that makes them seem divine." 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 ON the 13th of May, 1717, in the royal palace at 
 Vienna, a baby princess first opened her wondering 
 eyes upon this world, in whose history she was destined to 
 play an important, and what is still better, a highly com- 
 mendable part. This illustrious infant was christened by 
 the titles, Maria Theresa Valperga Amelia Christina. 
 
 Her father was Charles VI. of Austria, emperor of 
 Germany. Lady Wortley Montagu, who, as Mary Pierre- 
 pont, had figured as one of the young ladies appointed to 
 bear the train of Queen Anne during her coronation cere- 
 mony, afterwards visited the court of Vienna, shortly 
 before the birth of Maria Theresa, and describes the 
 mother of that princess, the lovely Elizabeth Christina of 
 Brunswick, as an empress of sweet and gracious manners 
 and amiable character. 
 
 But Maria Theresa far outshone both her parents in 
 beauty of person, strength of character, and marvellous 
 executive abilities, which have placed her in the very front 
 rank of female sovereigns ; yea, still more, on account of 
 the rare combination of virtues and strength which her 
 character manifested, she stands at the very head of the 
 list of famous queens, equalled only perhaps by Isabella 
 of Castile. 
 
284 MARIA THERESA. 
 
 In making this assertion, we refer only to Maria 
 Theresa's individual claims to greatness ; not to any im- 
 portance of the times, or concomitant circumstances, 
 which formed so large a part of Elizabeth's acknowl- 
 edged powers ; not upon great statesmen, great generals, 
 or great political or religious questions, depends the fame 
 of Maria Theresa. It was not the vast political impor- 
 tance of her achievements, or the place which her kingdom 
 held in the rank of nations ; but it was the mind and 
 nature of the sovereign herself, irrespective of any and 
 all surroundings, which makes her character luminous 
 with a stronger and more effulgent light than shines forth 
 from the name of any other female sovereign of the 
 world. In herself alone, in her own virtues ; her strong 
 and well-balanced mind ; her undaunted courage ; her 
 unswerving allegiance to what is true, and pure, and 
 lovely in womankind, joined to an almost masculine 
 executive ability, which woman's usually narrow horizon 
 often weakens, by sacrificing grand and comprehensive 
 policies to a pettiness of details ; an executive ability as 
 statesman, and general, which made her no mean foe for 
 the vaunted greatness of Frederick the Second to combat, 
 these traits, betokening a mind peerless among women, 
 a character peerless among sovereigns, abilities ranking 
 her with the greatest of her times, and best of all, vir- 
 tues, which placed her individually first upon the list of 
 female monarchs of the world ; virtues which surround 
 her name with an undying halo of glory ; such are the 
 rightful claims of Maria Theresa to the most honored 
 place among the famous queens of history. 
 
 And yet we do not give this illustrious character as 
 much space as others in this book, because the events of 
 her reign were not as vital upon the history of Europe 
 
MARIA THERESA. 285 
 
 and the world as other epochs, and because the very 
 beauty and purity of her character demands no long 
 panegyric to prove her greatness ; therefore her reign will 
 be summed up in a few words. 
 
 Catherine II. of Russia was probably equal to Maria 
 Theresa in executive ability ; but Catherine is so revolt- 
 ing as a woman, so devoid of every virtue of heart or 
 soul, that her fame is rather infamous notoriety than 
 commendable greatness. Elizabeth doubtless possessed 
 as strong a mind and keener cunning, and was undenia- 
 bly far more liberally educated ; but Elizabeth was so 
 pitiably weak in her jealous vanity and heartless and 
 condemnatory gallantries, that she must rank beneath 
 Maria Theresa when they are individually compared. 
 
 Isabella of Castile stands nearer to Maria Theresa in 
 individual greatness than any of the other famous queens. 
 We have not included a sketch of her life in this volume, 
 because her history is so indissolubly intertwined with 
 that of Ferdinand V. of Spain ; and in giving his life in 
 the companion book of "Famous Rulers," we also there 
 outlined a brief sketch of Isabella of Castile. 
 
 Maria Theresa is the most illustrious example of an 
 "imperial woman of business." She was big-brained 
 and energetic, having none of the mental weaknesses of 
 voluptuous natures. Lacking thereby, perhaps, somewhat 
 in warm emotions, but by her own inherent nature she 
 was exempted from falling into error. She was a model 
 of virtue both in public and private life. 
 
 "Maria Theresa was an embodiment of executive 
 regality. She had the promptitude, forethought, and 
 vigilance of a detective officer, and discharged duty with 
 the rigid precision of a policeman. She was essentially 
 practical, and thoroughly industrious-minded. She was 
 
286 MARIA THERESA. 
 
 ready in an emergency, equal to a difficulty, and sturdy 
 for order and regulation. She met reverses with bold- 
 ness and fortitude, and used prosperity for instituting 
 reforms. She was greatly remedial, remedying sudden 
 mischances by encountering them firmly, and remedying 
 existing evils with the strong hand of eradication." 
 
 Frederick the Great, although politically her foe, said 
 of her : " Although I have made war against her, I have 
 never been her personal enemy. I have always respected 
 her ; she was an honor to her sex, and the glory of her 
 throne." 
 
 Maria Theresa was not only immaculately virtuous her- 
 self, but she enforced the strictest rule of moral and 
 decorous demeanor both in her court and throughout her 
 dominions. Rigorous etiquette and staid decorum were 
 marked features of her imperial household and her own 
 conduct. Only once did she deign to notice one of prof- 
 ligate notoriety. When she desired to enter into friendly 
 alliance with France, she found the effeminate Louis XV. 
 unwilling to listen to the proposals of her ambassador. 
 Well knowing where the chief influence over the mind of 
 this weak king could be reached, she condescended to 
 write a letter to Madame de Pompadour, with the cour- 
 teous address "Ma Ch&re Amie" This produced the 
 expected effect. Madame de Pompadour's self-love and 
 vanity were so much flattered by such a mark of attention 
 from the imperial Maria Theresa, that, employing her 
 most seductive arts, she won the consent of Louis XV. 
 to enter into an alliance with Austria. But this political 
 policy must have cost the pure and exalted character of 
 Maria Theresa a sharp pang of personal mortification. 
 
 In 1736 Maria Theresa was married to Francis, Duke 
 of Lorraine. This marriage was one of love rather than 
 
MARIA THERESA. 287 
 
 policy, and the union was a happy one. Francis was 
 much inferior in mind to his beautiful and accomplished 
 wife, but Maria Theresa's affection for him was sincere 
 and very constant through a long wedded life. The death 
 of her father, Charles VI., left Maria Theresa, in her 
 twenty-fourth year, Queen of Hungary and Bohemia, 
 Archduchess of Austria, Sovereign of the Netherlands, 
 and Duchess of Milan, of Parma, and of Placentia, in her 
 own right ; and in right of her husband, she was also 
 Grand-Duchess of Tuscany. But notwithstanding these 
 numerous titles, her cause was in truth desperate. Her 
 father had endeavored to secure her undisputed succes- 
 sion by means of the " Pragmatic Sanction," which 
 declared Maria Theresa the heiress of the House of Aus- 
 tria. This sanction had been ratified by several Euro- 
 pean powers ; but no sooner was Charles VI. dead than 
 claimants arose in all directions. "Within the first few 
 months of her reign, the Pragmatic Sanction, so fre- 
 quently guaranteed, was trampled under foot. France 
 deferred, and at length declined to acknowledge her title. 
 The Elector of Bavaria, supported by France, laid claim 
 to Austria, Hungary, and Bohemia. The king of Spain 
 also laid claim to the Austrian succession, and prepared 
 to seize on the Italian states ; the king of Sardinia claimed 
 Milan ; the king of Prussia, not satisfied with merely 
 advancing pretensions, pounced like a falcon on his prey, 
 and seized upon the whole duchy of Silesia, which he laid 
 waste and occupied with his armies." 
 
 "The perils which surrounded Maria Theresa at her 
 accession were such as would have appalled the strongest 
 mind. She was not only encompassed by enemies with- 
 out, but threatened with commotions within : she was 
 without an army, without a treasury, and, in point of 
 
288 MARIA THERESA. 
 
 fact, without a ministry ; for those who composed the 
 conference, or state-council of Vienna, agreed but in one 
 thing, in jealousy of the Duke of Lorraine." 
 
 But Maria Theresa was never so great as in the midst 
 of apparently overwhelming adversity. Hungary clung 
 firmly to the young and dauntless queen, and to Hungary 
 she turned for aid. On the 13th of June, 1741, she was 
 crowned Queen of Hungary at Presburg. The coronation 
 was attended with all the national pomp and peculiar cer- 
 emonies of that country. The iron crown of St. Stephen 
 ffas placed upon the head of the dazzliugly beautiful 
 Maria Theresa, then in the height of her fascinating 
 charms. Over her gem-encrusted royal robes was thrown 
 the sacred tattered mantle which was regarded by the 
 Hungarians as a revered insignia of the regal office. 
 Mounted on a superb charger, she then rode gallantly up 
 the Royal Mount, which was a rising hillock near Pres- 
 burg consecrated to this ceremony ; and having reached 
 the summit, Maria Theresa, according to ancient custom, 
 drew forth her glistening sabre, and waved it around her 
 head, signalizing the idea of defiance to all the four quar- 
 ters of the world. The coronation ceremonies having 
 been completed, Maria Theresa returned to the great hall 
 of the palace, where a magnificent feast had been spread 
 for all the high dignitaries of the realm. The beautiful 
 queen sat in the place of honor ; and as the day Was 
 warm and the iron crown was heavy, she lifted the ancient 
 diadem from her brow, whereupon her luxuriant hair fell 
 upon her shoulders in picturesque abandon, making her 
 such a vision of beauty with her glowing cheeks, and 
 sparkling e} r es, and regal bearing, that the old knights 
 and gallant lords could scarce refrain from shouting their 
 enthusiastic admiration for the lovely woman, and patri- 
 
MARIA THERESA. 289 
 
 otic reverence for their adored queen, in resounding accla- 
 mations. 
 
 Still greater was their enthusiasm when they were 
 assembled in the great hall of the castle, and the stately 
 queen, wearing the Hungarian mourning costume in mem- 
 ory of her late father, entered the spacious apartment, 
 and ascended the platform from whence the kings of 
 Hungary had been accustomed to address their council 
 of lords. 
 
 Imperial indeed was the graceful Maria Theresa ; ma- 
 jesty sat enthroned upon her regal brow, and the sover- 
 eign as well as the gracious woman beamed in her mag- 
 netic eyes, while the melodious and alluring tones of her 
 pathetic voice seemed to commingle the inspiring reso- 
 nance of a bugle-call with the melting sweetness of the 
 rich chords swept from harp-strings, as she alternately 
 appealed to their patriotism, and her helpless condition 
 as queen, woman, and mother. Her stirring address to 
 them was made in Latin, and as she impressively com- 
 mitted herself and children to their fidelity, lifting her 
 infant son Joseph in her arms and presenting him to the 
 assembled lords, a thousand warriors drew their sabres 
 from their scabbards and shouted with wild enthusiasm : 
 " Moriamur pro rege nostro. Mar id Theresd" (We will 
 die for our sovereign, Maria Theresa). 
 
 Overpowered by this enthusiastic devotion, the lustrous 
 eyes of the noble-spirited queen filled with grateful tears, 
 and as she pressed her handkerchief to her face a moment 
 to regain her composure, sobs were heard throughout the 
 assembly of Hungarian nobles, and every heart throbbed 
 with admiring devotion. Hungary was roused as one man, 
 and the dauntless and beautiful Maria Theresa was queen 
 of every heart as well as queen of swords and purses. 
 
290 MARIA THERESA. 
 
 Nor was the fame of her heroic courage limited to the 
 boundaries of Hungary. England did her honor. The 
 helpless situation of this young queen excited the liveliest 
 interest in her cause. The Parliament voted large subsi- 
 dies to support her ; and the ladies of England, with the 
 old Duchess of Marlborough at their head, subscribed 
 100,000 for her relief. But Maria Theresa graciously 
 declined this private gift, accepting only the aid of the 
 king and Parliament. 
 
 The enthusiasm in her behalf spread over all the states 
 of Austria, and semi-savage bands flocked to her standard 
 from all quarters. Vienna was strongly fortified, and 
 Germany and Prussia looked on in astonishment. This 
 helpless }'oung queen, without .money, armies, or powerful 
 ministers, they had supposed would be an easy prey. 
 But marvellous to relate, Austria, with only an inexperi- 
 enced, weak woman at its head, defies their vaunted 
 strength ; and Frederick, the arrogant, fallen somewhat 
 " from his pitch of pride," deigns to manifest some desire 
 for a conciliatory arrangement, providing that he can 
 keep his coveted Silesia. To this concession Maria The- 
 resa is forced to agree ; for while she was defending her- 
 self against Prussia, the French and Bavarians were over- 
 whelming her own Bohemia. The Elector of Bavaria 
 having seized Prague, he was elected Emperor of Ger- 
 many, and crowned at Frankfort by the title of Charles 
 VII. But within a few months the French were defeated. 
 Maria Theresa entered Prague, and was there crowned 
 queen of Bohemia in May, 1743. In Italy she was also 
 victorious. In 1744 she again lost Bavaria, but in the 
 following year Bohemia and Bavaria were recovered ; and 
 Charles VII. dj'ing soon after, Maria Theresa was ena- 
 bled to fulfil her proud ambition by placing the imperial 
 
MARIA THERESA. 291 
 
 crown of emperor upon her husband's head. Francis was 
 proclaimed Emperor of Germany at Frankfort, and Maria 
 Theresa was the first to exclaim, " Long live the Emperor 
 Francis I." Thus had been fulfilled one of her dearest 
 ambitions ; and she had secured the restoration of the 
 imperial crown to her family, by whom it had been worn 
 for an uninterrupted period of above three hundred years. 
 Henceforth Maria Theresa, uniting in herself the titles of 
 Empress of Germany and Queen of Hungary and Bohe- 
 mia, is known in history as the " Empress-Queen." 
 
 By the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, in 1748, Maria Theresa 
 retained possession of all her ancestral inheritance except 
 Silesia, Parma, Placentia, and Guastalla. " She recov- 
 ered the imperial dignity, which had been nearly wrested 
 from the House of Austria, and obtained the guarantee of 
 the Pragmatic Sanction from the principal powers of 
 Europe. Her father had left her without a single florin 
 in the treasury ; and after eight years of war and the 
 loss of several states in 1750, her revenues exceeded 
 those of her predecessors by six millions. 
 
 "All the new laws and regulations, the changes and 
 improvements which took place, emanated from Maria 
 Theresa herself, and they were all more or less wisely and 
 benevolently planned, and beneficial in their effects." 
 
 Her first war was purely one of self-defence, and the 
 sword was drawn in a just cause. Her enemy, Frederick 
 the Great, acknowledged that " the Austrian army 
 acquired, under the auspices of Maria Theresa, such a 
 degree of perfection as it had never attained under any 
 of her predecessors, and that a woman accomplished 
 designs worthy of a great man." 
 
 Maria Theresa was a conscientious Catholic, but she 
 did not allow the Pope of Rome to dictate the affairs of 
 
292 MARIA THERESA. 
 
 her kingdom, and she realized the necessary distinction 
 between temporal and spiritual jurisdictions. 
 
 "She suppressed the pensions charged at Rome upon 
 benefices ; and forbade the alienation of property in favor 
 of ecclesiastical bodies." She intrusted the spiritual 
 governments of convents to bishops, but placed their 
 secular matters in the hands of magistrates. She so 
 restrained the power of the Inquisition, then existing in 
 her Italian dominions, that the check she placed upon the 
 despotic operations of that diabolical institution, led to 
 its final abolishment in Lombardy and Tuscany at a later 
 period. 
 
 Maria Theresa was ever ready to make sacrifice of per- 
 sonal ease for the good of her subjects. She was hestrd 
 to say : 
 
 " I reproach myself with the time I spend in sleep as 
 so much robbed from my people." 
 
 u No sooner did Maria Theresa find herself settled in 
 peaceful security, than she prepared to carry out her 
 systems of internal reform. The vestiges of war were 
 effaced ; agriculture was revived ; commerce and the arts 
 were encouraged ; shipping interests were regarded ; roads 
 constructed and repaired ; Vienna was enlarged and em- 
 bellished ; manufactories of woollen cloths, of porcelain, 
 of glass, and of silken stuffs, were established. Science 
 flourished in the foundation of several universities and 
 colleges ; while one of them, still enjoying celebrity, 
 bears its sovereign's name in gratitude to its foundress 
 ' Collegium Theresianum.' 
 
 " Special schools of drawing, painting, and architecture 
 were instituted ; while Prague and Innspruck had public 
 libraries endowed. Observatories, enriched with valuable 
 apparatus and instruments, arose in Vienna, in Gratz, 
 
MARIA THERESA. 293 
 
 and in Tirnau ; Van Swieten was summoned to regenerate 
 the study of medicine and surgery, and Metastasio was 
 invited to help in disseminating a cultivation of the Italian 
 muse on the banks of the Danube. Measures of impor- 
 tance and magnitude were effected by Maria Theresa in 
 the government of her people. She introduced great 
 amelioration into the feudal system as it then existed in Bo- 
 hemia. She abolished the torture in her hereditary states, 
 Hungary and Bohemia. Severe penalties were attached 
 to literary piracy. She exerted herself to promote popu- 
 lar education throughout her dominions, establishing a 
 general system, and taking means for its efficacious oper- 
 tion. She divided into three classes the schools she 
 instituted ; firstly, ' normal schools,' one in each province, 
 to serve as a model for all the other schools in the 
 province ; secondly, ' principal schools,' in the large 
 towns ; and thirdly, ' commercial schools,' in the smaller 
 towns and villages. The normal schools were superin- 
 tended by a director ; those of the large towns were under 
 the superintendence of a magistrate ; and the commercial 
 schools, under that of a parish priest, or an assessor of 
 the communal council. 
 
 ' ' She granted extra emolument to those teachers whose 
 wives taught the girls sewing, knitting, and spinning ; so 
 that children thus taught were able to earn a daily addi- 
 tion to the family income. The system worked admirably, 
 and formed the basis of that extended popular education 
 which operates so beneficially throughout the Austrian 
 monarchy." 
 
 Her second war with Frederick the Great, which lasted 
 seven years, was in the end productive of little besides a 
 terrible loss of life and money to both contestants. By 
 the treaty at its close not a foot of territory was gained or 
 
294 MARIA THERESA. 
 
 lost by either party. In this war Austria's allies were 
 France and Russia. Maria Theresa was forty-eight years 
 of age at the end of this war. For twenty-four years all 
 Europe had watched her with wonder and admiration. 
 She had replaced the incapable Bartenstein by the able 
 minister, Prince Kaunitz, and for nearly thirty years he 
 ruled the councils of Austria as prime minister. 
 
 Maria Theresa was not satisfied short of knowing and 
 comprehending all things pertaining to her government. 
 She often devoted ten or twelve hours together to state 
 business ; and notwithstanding this close attention to 
 governmental affairs, she still found time for society, and 
 the amusements of her court, as well as to be the mother 
 of sixteen children. 
 
 Maria Theresa was possessed of great beauty and a fine 
 presence. The dignity of her exalted rank was worn with 
 regal grace. " Her figure was tall, and formed with per- 
 fect elegance ; her deportment, imposing and majestic ; 
 her features were regular ; her eyes were gray, and full of 
 lustre and expression ; she had the full Austrian lips, but 
 her mouth and smile were beautiful ; her complexion was 
 transparent ; she had a profusion of fine hair ; and, to 
 complete her charms, the tone of her voice was peculiarly 
 soft and sweet. Her strict religious principles, or her 
 early and excessive love for her husband, or the pride of 
 her royal station, or perhaps all these combined, had pre- 
 served her character from coquetry. She was not uncon- 
 scious of her powers of captivation, but she used them not- 
 as a woman, but as a queen ; not to win lovers, but to 
 gain over refractory subjects." 
 
 It is recorded to her praise, "that she desired to be 
 informed of every act of the administration ; that she 
 afforded the poor and humble, as well as the noble and 
 
MARIA THERESA. 295 
 
 rich, free access to her presence ; that she listened 
 beniguantly to all, either granting their petitions, or, if 
 she denied them, giving reasons for her refusal, without 
 delusive promises or vague evasions. During a forty 
 years' reign she invariably showed a love of justice and 
 truth ; and she stated, as a principle of her conduct, that 
 it is only the pleasure of alleviating distress and doing 
 good to the people that can render the weight of a crown 
 supportable to the wearer." 
 
 In the year 1765, the Emperor Francis I. died. His 
 loss was sincerely mourned by Maria Theresa, who was 
 devotedly attached to her husband. She ever after wore 
 mourning for him, and frequently visited the imperial 
 mausoleum where he was entombed. In anticipation of 
 her own death she caused her coffin to be made, and 
 secretly sewed upon her own shroud. She was afterwards 
 buried in the grave-clothes thus made by her own hands. 
 
 Upon the death of the Emperor Francis, her eldest son 
 received the imperial crown as Joseph II. But Maria 
 Theresa continued to hold the first place in the govern- 
 ment until her death. 
 
 Maria Theresa gloried in her power of being able to be 
 a public benefactor ; it pleased her to bestow benefits. 
 She richly deserved her title of "Mother of her people" ; 
 and she declared just before her death that, " if anything 
 reprehensible had been done in her name, it was certainly 
 without her knowledge, as she had always desired the 
 welfare of her subjects." Her annual private charities 
 and donations amounted to more than eighty thousand 
 a year ; and so great was her benevolence that when her 
 son Joseph was accused of not being generous, he replied : 
 " If I gave like my mother, we should soon have nothing 
 left to give away." 
 
296 MARIA THERESA. 
 
 Her benefactions included all classes of her subject*. 
 She founded large hospitals for the infirm and wounded 
 soldiers, and opened asylums of comfort for the widows 
 of officers and young ladies of impoverished families. 
 With such a belligerent neighbor as Frederick the Great, 
 Maria Theresa could not feel assured of any continued 
 period of peace, and she therefore maintained a large 
 army of disciplined troops, and founded military acade- 
 mies at Vienna, Neustadt, and Antwerp. 
 
 The simplicity of her court life was a great contrast to 
 the extravagant ostentation of Elizabeth and the dissolute 
 splendor of Catherine II. " In the morning an old man, 
 who could hardly be entitled a chamberlain, but merely 
 what is called on the continent a frotteur, entered her 
 sleeping-room about five or six o'clock, opened the shut- 
 ters, lighted the stove, and arranged the apartment. She 
 breakfasted on a cup of milk-coffee, then dressed and 
 heard mass. The floor of her room was so contrived that 
 it opened by a sliding parquet, and mass was celebrated 
 in the chapel beneath. On Tuesdays she received the 
 ministers of the various apartments ; other days were set 
 apart for giving audience to foreigners and strangers, who, 
 according to the etiquette of the imperial court, were 
 always presented singly, and received in the private 
 apartments. There were stated days on which the poor- 
 est and meanest of her subjects were admitted indiscrimi- 
 nately, and they could speak to her in private if they so 
 desired. At other times, she attended to her letters, 
 memorials, despatches, signed papers, etc. During the 
 summer, which was spent mostly at her palaces of Schon- 
 brunn, or at Laxenburg, she would often walk in a shaded 
 avenue communicating with her apartments. A box was 
 buckled round her waist, filled with papers and memorials, 
 
MARIA THERESA. 297 
 
 which she carefully read as she promenaded, noting with 
 her pencil necessary answers or observations to each." 
 
 She usually dined alone to economize time. After 
 dinner she attended to public business until six in the 
 evening, as she dined at noon ; and until her hour of 
 retiring her daughters joined her, when she held a draw- 
 ing-room or engaged in games with her children. Her 
 daughters were all expected to present themselves at even- 
 ing prayers, which the empress held before retiring, and 
 nothing but sickness was allowed to interfere with this 
 family regulation. 
 
 About two years after the death of her husband she 
 was attacked by small-pox, which was very fatal in her 
 family, she having lost several children by this dread 
 disease. Upon her recovery her marvellous beauty was 
 greatly marred, and being thrown from her carriage soon 
 after and severely wounding her face, her scarred com- 
 plexion and altered features entirely destroyed her former 
 beauty of countenance, though' her queenly bearing and 
 imperial grace continued to charm, and her voice lost 
 none of its melting sweetness. 
 
 Experiencing the dread effects of small-pox, she estab- 
 lished a small-pox hospital, and introduced inoculation in 
 her kingdom. She paid great attention to the purity of 
 her coinage, and so strong was the faith of her subjects in 
 the money coined under her supervision, that as late as 
 1830, the workmen at the mint at Milan were coining 
 dollars with the head of the empress-queen and the date 
 1780. " These dollars were intended for the Levant 
 trade ; the people of the Greek Islands, being accustomed 
 to trust in the purity of the coinage bearing the effigy of 
 Maria Theresa, took it in exchange more readily than that 
 of any other potentate." 
 
298 MARIA THERESA. 
 
 The alliance of Maria Theresa with France was produc- 
 tive of dire evils to her family in after-}"ears, as the fate 
 of the beautiful Marie Antoinette, the youngest daughter 
 of Maria Theresa, fully exemplifies. Regarding her other 
 children, several of them were distinguished in after-life. 
 Besides her eldest son, the Emperor Joseph II., Leopold, 
 another son, was Grand-Duke of Tuscany for twenty-live 
 years, when he succeeded to the Empire in 1790. Fer- 
 dinand, her third son, married the heiress of the House of 
 Modena, and became Duke of Modena. Maximilian be- 
 came Elector of Cologne. All of her daughters were 
 beautiful and accomplished. The archduchesses Mari- 
 anna and Elizabeth remained unmarried. The Arch- 
 duchess Christina, her mother's favorite, married Prince 
 Albert of Saxony, which union, like that of her mother's, 
 was for love rather than political expediency. Christina 
 exercised great influence over her younger sisters, Marie 
 Antoinette, queen of France, and Caroline, queen of 
 Naples. The Archduchess Amelia, another beautiful prin- 
 cess, married the Duke of Parma. Two other sisters, 
 Joanna, and the lamented Josepha, died with small-pox 
 in their early womanhood. The death of the Archduchess 
 Josepha was particularly harrowing, as she contracted the 
 dread disease by obeying her mother's wishes that she 
 should enter the family burial vault, previous to her 
 departure for Naples, as she was then betrothed to the 
 king of Naples, and go through with certain religious 
 ceremonies which Maria Theresa considered to be binding 
 upon a member of this illustrious family. The lovely 
 Josepha expressed great alarm regarding this exposure to 
 contagion, as her sister had lately died from small-pox ; 
 but for once, Maria Theresa allowed her religious bigotry 
 to supplant her better reason, and the sad and tragic result 
 
MARIA THERESA. 299 
 
 of this filial obedience wrung the mother's heart with an- 
 guish, all the more bitter, as her own commands had 
 doubtless occasioned the death of her idolized child. A 
 third daughter, Caroline, was then betrothed to the King 
 of Naples, in place of her two sisters, whose successive 
 deaths had prevented the contemplated union with the 
 royal family of Naples, both of them having been affi- 
 anced one after the other, to King Ferdinand. 
 
 The great blot upon the otherwise illustrious name of 
 Maria Theresa was her participation in the iniquitous 
 partition of Poland. " She has been rescued from the 
 charge of having originated the unjust plan ; since the docu- 
 ment of the secret convention, signed at St. Petersburg, on 
 the 17th of February, 1772, exists to prove the contrary; 
 wherein it is stated that if the court of Austria refuse con- 
 sent to the plan of partition, Prussia and Russia will com- 
 bine against her. Amid the general outcry that arose in 
 Europe against the crowned spoliators, Frederick the 
 Great slyly observed : ' As to me, I fully expected all this 
 uproar of blame ; but what will they say of her saintship, 
 my cousin ? ' ' 
 
 Maria Theresa was now at the height of her grandeur 
 and power as a sovereign. She had largely extended her 
 territories. She had so increased her revenues that, not- 
 withstanding her immense expenses, she laid by each year 
 in her treasury two hundred thousand crowns. She main- 
 tained an army of two hundred thousand men, and lived 
 in harmony with her ambitious and accomplished son, in 
 whose name the imperial power was vested. When war 
 with Prussia was again threatening her dominions, her skil- 
 ful negotiations with Frederick the Great, which resulted 
 in the peace of Teschen, covered her name with glory and 
 her life with honor. 
 
300 MARIA THERESA. 
 
 " Maria Theresa often declared that no event of her 
 long reign had ever caused her such unmingled satisfac- 
 tion as the peace of Teschen." It was a peace bought 
 without bloodshed. It was entirely her own work, origi- 
 nated in her own benevolent heart. It was the means 
 of continuing to her kingdom the blessing of peaceful 
 prosperity, and it surrounded her dying head with a halo 
 of glory. 
 
 Death had long been insidiously approaching this illus- 
 trious sovereign, but she felt no alarm, and prepared to 
 meet the end with calm resignation. Dropsy had at 
 length rendered her existence a continued torture, and 
 she welcomed the relief of death. Upon the last night 
 of her life she was engaged in signing papers and in giv- 
 ing necessary directions to her successor. When her son 
 urged her to rest, she replied : " In a few hours I shall 
 appear before the judgment-seat of God, and would you 
 have me sleep ? " Upon expressing her anxiety regarding 
 those who had long been aided by her private charities, 
 she said: " If I could wish for immortality on earth, it 
 would only be for the power of relieving the distressed." 
 
 A short time before she breathed her last her attendants 
 thought that she slumbered, as she had closed her eyes ; 
 and one whispered, " The empress sleeps." She immedi- 
 ately opened her eyes, saying with impressive calmness : 
 " No ! I do not sleep ; I wish to meet my death awake!" 
 Surely such a death-bed scene harmonized with the exalted 
 and illustrious life of Maria Theresa ! She expired on 
 the 29th of November, 1780, in her sixty -fourth year. 
 
 Her biographers justly style her the "most blameless 
 and beneficent sovereign who ever wore a crown" 
 
 The earthly dower of Maria Theresa was certainly the 
 richest ever granted to any female sovereign of the world. 
 
MARIA THERESA. 301 
 
 " A strong mind and feeling heart, royalty and beauty, 
 long life and prosperity, a happy marriage, a numerous 
 family, illustrious children, her people's love, and the ad- 
 miration of the universe." 
 
302 CATHERINE II 
 
 CATHERINE II. 
 
 A.D. 1729-1796. 
 "Here's to the flaunting, extravagant queen/' SHERIDAN. 
 
 IN mighty Russia, that land of violent extremes, that 
 land of lavish wealth and utter poverty, whose 
 frightful climate conquered the otherwise invincible Napo- 
 leon, and with its keen frosts snapped the pillars of his 
 throne; where millions tremble before a despot whose will 
 is fettered by no constitution ; whose prisons are the ice 
 realms of Siberia, whither so many trains of wretched 
 captives have passed to linger hopelessly in living tombs ; 
 whose smouldering fires of discontent and hatred, fanned 
 by the ardent breath of Nihilism, are constantly breaking 
 out into rebellion and assassination, in that land of 
 splendor and of barbarism, behold St. Petersburg, the 
 city of the Czars, founded by Peter the Great in 1703, 
 and risen out of the desolate marshes of Ladoga to be 
 the worthy capital of a great empire. 
 
 St. Petersburg, the city of palaces, with its royal and 
 princely residences, adorned with Doric, Ionic and Corin- 
 thian columns surmounted by massive friezes, entablatures, 
 and sculptures ; with its Grecian and Gothic temples, its 
 great squares, its splendid, spacious streets, its monu- 
 ments, its warehouses and docks, its gardens and boule- 
 vards, Cronstadt with its frowning bastions and painted 
 spires, and in the midst, giving to all an air of space, of 
 freedom, and dignity, the Neva, thronged by craft of all 
 
CATHARINE II. OF Rt'SSI.V 
 
CATHERINE II. 303 
 
 kinds and sizes, from the tiny gondola to the man-of- 
 war, and from the mighty merchant ship to the rude 
 barge laden with timber or with grain, presents a scene 
 of opulence and magnificence which makes it difficult to 
 realize that the foundations of this great metropolis were 
 placed in the quaking bogs of Lake Ladoga. 
 
 Upon the bank of the Neva, midway between the Sen- 
 ate House and the Admiralty, stands that most famous of 
 the monuments of St. Petersburg, the equestrian statue 
 of Peter the Great. A splendid statue, this, of bronze 
 and of colossal size. Peter, astride a mighty charger, 
 reins back his steed upon the brink of a precipice, and 
 stretches forth his sceptre, while he seems to survey with 
 proud triumph the wonderful growth of the city of which 
 he is the " creator," and of which he might exclaim, as did 
 Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon, u Is not this great Peters- 
 burg, that I have built by the might of my power, and 
 for the honor of my majesty ! " 
 
 Little did Peter think, when he laid aside the sceptre of 
 his empire, that five women would reign after him in 
 almost direct succession, and that the last, the greatest of 
 them all, would rear to him this costly monument upon 
 the borders of the Neva. 
 
 Peter I. was succeeded by his wife, Catherine, who gov- 
 erned for two years, then Peter II., a poor boy of fourteen, 
 who had the privilege of ruling nominally for a few 
 months, and then Anne, niece of Peter I. was placed 
 upon the throne. 
 
 Anne reigned ten years, or rather her favorites reigned 
 for her, and in 1740 she ended her insignificant life. 
 Then baby Prince Ivan was proclaimed Emperor Ivan III. 
 But his mother, Anne of Mecklenburg, thirsted for impe- 
 rial power. So Biren, the regent, went to Siberia, and 
 
304 CATHERINE II. 
 
 Anne of Mecklenberg ruled in bis stead. It was only for 
 a year, however, for in 1741 Elizabeth, cousin of Anne, 
 headed the imperial guards who had revolted, and declared 
 herself Empress Elizabeth the First. 
 
 Elizabeth ruled for twent}* years, and commenced by 
 declaring that " she would never put a subject to death 
 upon any provocation whatever," a principle all very 
 fine in theory, but never put in practice. And since it so 
 affected her tender heart to take the lives of her dear 
 subjects, she contented' herself by sending them to 
 Siberia, which answered her purpose quite as well. 
 
 " Joanna," said she to her lady of the bedchamber, who 
 one day reproached her for the miserable manner in which 
 she educated her nephew, the grand-duke, "Joanna, 
 knowest thou the road to Siberia? " Joanna took the hint 
 and henceforth held her peace. 
 
 On the 2d of May, 1729, at Stettin, in Prussia, was 
 born Sophia Augusta Frederica, Princess of Anhalt- 
 Zerbst-Bernburg, who, in 1762, resigned all these sonorous 
 and illustrious titles to be called simply Catherine II. 
 
 In 1747 the Empress Elizabeth married her nephew, 
 the worthless grand-duke, to this Princess of Anhalt, 
 and at the death of the empress, in 1761, he became 
 Peter III. 
 
 Things went smoothly enough for the first few months, 
 but soon Sophia Augusta Frederica, Princess of Anhalt, 
 desired to reign alone and undisputed upon the throne 
 of the Romanoffs, and in that highly moral and virtuous 
 assembly, the imperial court of St. Petersburg, there 
 were many who, in the hope of self-aggrandizement, 
 would not scruple to terminate the mortal career of the 
 Emperor Peter the Third. 
 
 There were three separate conspiracies against the life 
 
CATHERINE II. 305 
 
 
 
 of Peter; and Catherine, who appeared to do nothing 
 herself, was in reality the mover of -all. 
 
 Peter was spending a few days at his country palace of 
 Oranienbaum, from whence he was to proceed to the 
 palace of Peterhof, where the conspirators intended to 
 seize and carry him off. 
 
 But all these fine plans were overthrown by a soldier of 
 the guard, who innocently asked his captain on what day 
 they were to take up arms against the emperor. The 
 terrified captain, who knew nothing of the conspiracy, 
 gave notice to his superiors. Then all is terror in the 
 ranks of the conspirators ; and the Princess Dashkoff, 
 when she learns of the discover}' of the plot, hastily gives 
 intelligence to her party. The Empress Catherine sleeps 
 at Peterhof, where she has gone to meet her husband. 
 At two o'clock in the morning a soldier stands at her 
 bedside. It is Alexis Orloff. " Your Majesty," he says, 
 " has not a moment to lose ; rise and follow me ! " 
 
 The empress and her maid dress in haste. Orloff con- 
 ducts them to the garden gate, where a carriage is in wait- 
 ing. The empress and her maid are placed in it. Alexis 
 seizes the reins, and they are off at a gallop. 
 
 Before they have gone far the carriage breaks, and 
 Catherine is compelled to continue her journey on foot. 
 When they have walked about a mile, they meet a peas- 
 ant driving a country cart. Immediately Alexis Orloff 
 seizes the horses, places the empress in the cart, and 
 drives at full speed toward the capital. 
 
 The Emperor Peter III. sleeps quietly in his palace at 
 Oranienbaum, while his wife, Catherine II., drives madly 
 along the road from Peterhof to Petersburg, to place 
 upon her head the imperial diadem of Russia. 
 
 At seven in the morning Catherine reached St. Peters- 
 
306 CATHERINE II. 
 
 . 
 
 burg. She immediately presented herself to the soldiers, 
 assuring them that the Czar, her husband, intended to put 
 her to death that very night, and that they were her only 
 protection. This lie was believed at the moment, and the 
 men swore to die in her defence. 
 
 The Orloffs raised a cry of " Long live the Empress 
 Catherine ! " and the soldiers echoed the shout. Their 
 officers encouraged them, and when Villebois, general of 
 artillery, ventured to remonstrate, Catherine turned upon 
 him haughtily, told him she wanted no advice of his, but 
 to know what he intended to do. The general, con- 
 founded at her assumed air of command, could only 
 stammer, "To obey your Majesty!" and immediately 
 delivered the arsenals and magazines of the city into her 
 hands. 
 
 Thus in two hours did Catherine find herself upon the 
 throne, with an army at her command, and the capital at 
 her feet. 
 
 Meanwhile Peter III., totally unconscious of the usur- 
 pation of his unfaithful spouse, ordered his carriage, and 
 set out for Peterhof , where he was informed of the revolt. 
 This news threw him into such horror and confusion, that 
 for a time he lost the use of his faculties. He could 
 resolve on nothing, and his imbecility was like that of a 
 terrified child. 
 
 Finally, however, he sat down and wrote a submissive 
 letter to Catherine, acknowledging his errors, and propos- 
 ing to share the sovereign authority with her. To this 
 letter Catherine gave no reply, except to send Count 
 Panin to the Czar, who persuaded him to sign a declara- 
 tion that he was not fit to reign, and that he voluntarily 
 abdicated the throne. Having done this, the poor, weak 
 prince was carried off and locked up in the palace of 
 
CATHERINE II. 307 
 
 Ropscha. " It was necessary that some apparent reason 
 should be given for such extraordinary proceedings, and 
 a short manifesto was accordingly set forth, proclaiming 
 the accession of Catherine, without any mention of the 
 unhappy emperor, but alleging as her only motives for 
 assuming the government her tender regard for the wel- 
 fare of the people, and above all for the holy and ortho- 
 dox Greek religion, which she feared was exposed to total 
 ruin ; and this notable document of state villany thus 
 concludes : ' For these causes, etc., we, putting our trust 
 in Almighty God and in his divine justice, have ascended 
 the imperial throne of all the Russias, and have received 
 a solemn oath of fidelity from all our faithful subjects.' 
 Dated June 28, 1762. 
 
 "Thus, by a revolution which never could have occurred 
 under any other government 'than that of Russia, which 
 few could account for and no one seemed to comprehend, 
 which was accomplished in the course of a single day, 
 without injuiy to individuals, and without tumultuous vio- 
 lence, did a young woman, a foreigner, and a stranger 
 to the imperial blood, spring into the throne of the Czars." 
 
 Catherine II., having thus established herself upon the 
 throne, began to consider how she could best retain her 
 newly acquired power. The first obstacle which presented 
 itself to her mind was the Czar, Peter III. She had him 
 under lock and key at Ropscha, it is true, but then he had 
 his friends and his faithful Holstein guards, who had seen 
 his downfall with grief and indignation. So Peter III, 
 must be made an end of, and those most accomplished of 
 villains, Oiioff and Baratiusky, were sent to Ropscha 
 to make an end of him, which deed they performed very 
 satisfactorily both to themselves and to the empress, by 
 strangling him in his dining apartment with a napkin. 
 
308 CATHERINE II. 
 
 The news of his death was announced to the empress 
 as she was on the point of holding her court, but, as the 
 proper precautions had not been taken, she did not choose 
 to make it public, and went on with her audience with 
 every appearance of cheerfulness and tranquillity. On the 
 following day, while dining in public, the death of the 
 Czar was formally announced ; and immediately she rose 
 from the table, all bathed in tears, and retired to her 
 apartment, where for several days she feigned the great- 
 est grief. She afterward published a manifesto, in which 
 she announced to her subjects " that it had pleased Al- 
 mighty God to remove the late Emperor Peter the Third 
 from this world, by a violent attack of a malady to which 
 he had heretofore been subject, and desiring them to 
 consider it as an especial act of Providenc working in 
 her favor." None were stup*id enough to believe this mon- 
 strous lie, and none were bold enough to contradict it, and 
 this was answer sufficient for the Empress Catherine II. 
 
 But "what a sight for the nation itself, a calm spec- 
 tator of these events ! On one side, the grandson of 
 Peter I. dethroned and put to death on the other, the 
 grandson of the Czar Ivan languishing in fetters ; while a 
 Princess of Anhalt usurps the throne of their ancestors, 
 clearing her wa\ r to it by a regicide." 
 
 As a sovereign, Catherine displayed marked ability. 
 She effected several useful reforms, established important 
 institutions, encouraged national intercourse, founded 
 schools and hospitals, and erected arsenals and manufac- 
 tories. 
 
 During her lifetime she published a list of two hundred 
 and forty-five cities which she had founded in her domin- 
 ions. This sounds very grand ; but we may look as vainly 
 for her cities as for those of Babylonian Semiramis. In 
 
CATHERINE II. 309 
 
 some instances she merely indicated the spot where she 
 intended a city should be erected ; in others, she gave 
 the name of a city to some hamlet or village. 
 
 When she made her famous voyage down the Dnieper, 
 in 1787, Joseph II. accompanied her to lay the founda- 
 tions of a city to be called, after her name, Ekaterinaslof, 
 and which, in her imagination, already rivalled St. Peters- 
 burg. The empress laid the first stone with great pomp, 
 and the emperor laid the second. On returning from the 
 ceremony, Joseph remarked, in his dry, epigrammatic 
 manner: "The empress and I have this day achieved a 
 great work ; she has laid the first stone of a great city, 
 and I have laid the last." His speech was prophetic. 
 The city never proceeded farther, nor was it thought of 
 again. 
 
 Catherine had one overmastering passion, ambition ; 
 and since the basis of her character was selfishness, her 
 ambition began and ended with herself. She was shrewd 
 in principle, astute in judgment, hard in character, and 
 hopelessty corrupt in morals. But "she knew how to 
 make herself looked up to, if not with respect and liking, 
 at least with deference ; and Frederick the Great, Louis 
 XV., Maria Theresa, and George III., each in their turn, 
 learned to regard her acts with attention." 
 
 The principal fame of Catherine rests on her celebrated 
 code of laws, and on her title of legislatrix of her domin- 
 ions. 
 
 "If," said Frederick of Prussia, "several women as 
 sovereigns have obtained a deserved celebrity, Semir- 
 amis for her conquests, Elizabeth of England for her 
 political sagacit}', Maria Theresa for her astonishing firm- 
 ness of character, to Catherine alone may be given the 
 title of a female law -giver." 
 
310 CATHERINE II. 
 
 But how much of this was fulsome flattery and how 
 much honest praise, it is not very difficult to discern, 
 considering the gross nature of Catherine, and the cun- 
 ning diplomacy of Frederick. 
 
 Catherine is said to have doubled the resources and 
 revenues of her empire. Undoubtedly she increased the 
 resources by the extension of her commerce ; and by her 
 conquests over the Turks, which threw open the trade 
 and navigation of the Mediterranean, she added greatly 
 to the power of Russia; but she exhausted her resources 
 much faster than she could create them, and she wasted 
 her revenues more quickly than she could replenish them. 
 She doubled and trebled the taxes of her oppressed peo- 
 ple, and the legal pillage of her tyrannical officers drove 
 whole provinces to desperation. 
 
 44 Kings and queens," she wrote in her letter to Queen 
 Marie Antoinette, "ought to proceed in their career un- 
 disturbed by the cries of the people, as the moon pursues 
 her course unimpeded by the howling of the dogs." A 
 fine sentiment truly, and one which she took good care 
 should not grow dull for want of use during her lifetime. 
 
 To find some parallel for the criminal profusion of 
 Catherine, a profusion which exceeds all calculation, we 
 must go back to the days of Caligula and Heliogabalus. 
 
 Her favorites were countless : her lavishness towards 
 them almost incredible. Upon them she squandered a 
 sum equal to $100,000,000. 
 
 She bestowed estates equal in extent to provinces ; and 
 by a word, by a stroke of her pen, she, who called her 
 people her children, and, by her royal clemency, had sub- 
 stituted the word subject for slave, gave away thousands, 
 tens of thousands, of serfs, poor wretches transferred like 
 cattle from one proprietor to another. ' ' She gave dia- 
 
CATHERINE II. 311 
 
 monds by handfuls, and made gold and silver as common 
 as pebbles. Yet when we read over the names and quali- 
 fications of those who were her confidants and ministers, 
 or of those who were particularly distinguished by her 
 munificence, it is like looking over the peerage of Pande- 
 monium " ; for where but in the court of Russia, with a 
 female Louis XV. in the person of Catherine II. upon 
 the imperial throne, could such an assemblage of fiends 
 and savages, ruffians and reptiles, demons and cormorants, 
 have been congregated together to fatten on the blood and 
 tears of an oppressed people ? 
 
 In pursuance of the mighty plans which she had formed, 
 Catherine kept two objects steadily in view : first, to ex- 
 tend her dominions on the west by seizing Poland ; and 
 secondly, to drive the Turks from Constantinople. 
 
 She began with Poland, marched an army into that 
 country, forced upon the Poles a king of her own choice, 
 dictated laws at the point of the bayonet, intimidated 
 the weak by threats, and massacred and exiled all who 
 resisted. 
 
 The Poles could not endure this usurpation of their 
 country. They rose against -the Russians, and from 1765, 
 when Catherine first invaded the country, till its final seiz- 
 ure in 1795, Poland presented a scene of horror, calamity, 
 and crime. 
 
 The Poles besought the aid of the Turks, and thus 
 began the first Turkish war declared in 1768. Fierce and 
 bloody was this war, and in 1774 the Turks were com- 
 pelled to sue for peace, acceding to the humiliating con- 
 ditions which Catherine haughtily demanded, that the 
 Ottoman Porte should recognize the independence of the 
 Crimea, and yield to Russia the free navigation of the 
 Black Sea and the Archipelago. 
 
312 CATHERINE II. 
 
 In 1774 also, the empress-queen disgraced Gregory 
 Oiioff and raised to the post of favorite and chief minister, 
 Potemkin, afterward Prince Potemkin, of infamous renown, 
 who for more than twenty years held the highest honors 
 of the empire. He was neither a great statesman nor a 
 great general, but he was certainly an extraordinary man. 
 He had all the petulance, audacity, and wilfulness of a 
 spoiled boy, yet he possessed a genius fit to conceive and 
 execute great designs. " His character displayed a sin- 
 gular union of barbarism and grandeur, and of the most 
 inconsistent and apparently incompatible qualities. He 
 was at once the most indolent and the most active man in 
 the world ; the most luxurious, and the most indefatigable ; 
 no dangers appalled and no difficulties repulsed him ; yet 
 the slightest caprice, a mere fit of temper, would cause 
 him to abandon projects of vital importance. At one 
 time he talked of making himself king of Poland ; at 
 another of turning monk or bishop. He began every- 
 thing, completed nothing, disordered the finances, dis- 
 organized the army, depopulated the country. He lived 
 with the magnificence of a sovereign prince. At one 
 moment he would make an aide-de-camp ride two or three 
 hundred miles to bring him a melon or a pineapple ; at 
 another he would be found devouring a raw carrot or 
 cucumber in his own antechamber. 
 
 " He scarcely ever opened a book, yet he learned every- 
 thing, and forgot nothing ; his wonderful quickness in 
 appropriating the knowledge of others served him instead 
 of study. Altogether his great qualities and his defects 
 precisely fitted him to obtain the ascendency over such a 
 mind as that of Catherine ; she grew tired of others, but 
 his caprices, his magnificence, and his gigantic plans, con- 
 tinually interested and occupied her." Under his admin- 
 
CATHERINE II. 313 
 
 istration all things did not go on well, we may be sure ; 
 but all went on, and the empress was content. 
 
 The second Turkish war having ended in 1783 with the 
 annexation of the Crimea and Kuban, under the classic 
 names of Taurida and the Caucasus, Potemkin persuaded 
 Catherine to go and admire herself in her new dominions, 
 a thing which she was only too ready to do. 
 
 So on the 18th of January, 1787, the imperial cortege set 
 out from St. Petersburg. There were fourteen carriages 
 upon sledges for the empress and her court, and one hun- 
 dred and sixty for the attendants and baggage. Five 
 hundred and sixty relays of horses waited them at every 
 post, and the luxurious carriages flew over the frozen 
 plains at the rate of a hundred miles a day. Wherever 
 they stopped, a temporary palace was erected for the em- 
 press, fitted with evety luxury, and arranged, as much as 
 possible, like her palace at St. Petersburg. When they 
 arrived at Khief , the empress embarked on the Dnieper, 
 and with a fleet of fifty galleys sailed down the river to 
 Cherson. 
 
 Here money, provisions, and troops had been conve3 r ed 
 from every part of the empire. The Borysthenes was 
 covered with magnificent galleys ; a hundred and fifty 
 thousand soldiers were newly equipped ; deserts were pe<x 
 pled for the occasion, and palaces reared for the empress- 
 queen in the midst of trackless wilds. 
 
 The king of Poland came to do her homage, and th* 
 Emperor Joseph was content to mingle among the herd of 
 her courtiers and swell the splendor of her state. 
 
 Catherine herself scattered diamonds and honors with 
 her usual liberality. " In her travelling-carriage she had 
 a large, green sack, full of gold coins, and her courtiers 
 were kept busy throwing handfuls out of the window to 
 
314 CATHERINE II. 
 
 the people, who lay grovelling on the earth as her carriage 
 passed by." 
 
 After six months spent in this sort of travelling, the 
 empress returned to St. Petersburg. 
 
 As a refuge from the cares of state, Louis XIV. had 
 built his Trianon, and Frederick the Great his Sans-Souci, 
 and Catherine II., oppressed like them, reared the splen- 
 did palace of the Hermitage, within whose portals she 
 laid aside the imperial diadem of all the Russias, and 
 became a patron of literature and the fine arts. 
 
 Beneath a great portal, supported by colossal granite 
 giants, is the entrance to this Hermitage, over whose steps 
 have often passed those discarded favorites of the empress- 
 queen, smothering under forced smiles and honeyed words 
 their inward rage and indignation ; for when Catherine 
 wearied of her favorites she sent them an order to travel. 
 
 "I am tired of him," she would say; "his ignorance 
 makes me blush. He can speak nothing but Russian. He 
 must travel in France and England to learn other lan- 
 guages." The courtier who received this intelligence was 
 not long in preparing his travelling-carriage. 
 
 At the Hermitage, Catherine surrounded herself with men 
 of letters. Here were Lomonozof, the poet ; Sumorokof , 
 the dramatic author ; Kheraskof , the writer of tragedies ; 
 Sherebetoff, the historian ; and Pallas, the naturalist. 
 
 She especially affected the friendship of French writers. 
 She entertained Diderot with royal magnificence, and pur- 
 chased his librar}- ; she gave the education of her grand- 
 sons, Alexander and Constantino, to the care, of the 
 republican Laharpe ; and she kept up a constant corre- 
 spondence with Voltaire. Catherine, herself, had no real 
 love for the arts ; but she patronized them all as subser- 
 vient to her glory and her power. 
 
CATHERINE II. 315 
 
 "Thus she not only had no taste for music, but she 
 was destitute of ear to distinguish one tune from another, 
 as she often frankly acknowledged ; but nothing less 
 would serve her than an Italian corps d'opera attached to 
 her domestic establishment. She had no taste for paint- 
 ing, yet she purchased at a high price some beautiful col- 
 lections, and in the gallery of her palace of the Hermitage 
 hung some magnificent specimens of the Italian and Flem- 
 ish schools, purchased in France and Italy." 
 
 Fifteen miles from the capital of Russia is the beautiful 
 palace of Czars-Koe-Selo, the Versailles of St. Peters- 
 burg. Catherine II. was very fond of this place, and 
 spent enormous sums on its embellishment. Originally 
 every ornament and statue upon the faade of the palace, 
 which is no less. than twelve hundred feet in length, was 
 heavily plated with gold. After a few years the gilding 
 wore off, and the contractors engaged to repair it offered 
 the empress nearly half a million of dollars for the frag- 
 ments which remained. But the extravagant Catherine 
 answered them scornfully : 
 
 "I am not in the habit, gentlemen," she said, "of sell- 
 ing my old clothes." 
 
 The main avenue leading to this palace of Czars-Koe- 
 Selo is ornamented with several Chinese statues. One 
 morning as the empress was taking her usual promenade 
 along the avenue, she thought she detected a faint smile 
 upon the face of one of the heathen images. She ob- 
 served it more closely. Surely it was no fancy ! the eyes 
 returned her gaze, and that, too, with an expression 
 remarkably human. 
 
 Catherine II. was not a woman to be afraid of anything. 
 Accordingly, she walked straight towards the statue, de- 
 termined to solve the mystery. She teas startled for a 
 
316 CATHERINE II. 
 
 moment, however, when all the figures leaped from their 
 pedestals, and, hats in hand, begged her to pardon the 
 little surprise with which they tried to enliven her morn- 
 ing walk ; for her favorite Potemkin and three other cour- 
 tiers had, in jest, exactly copied the dress and attitude of 
 the Chinese figures. 
 
 When Prince Bismarck was Prussian ambassador at the 
 court of Alexander II., he was one day standing with the 
 Czar at a window of the Peterhof Palace, when he ob- 
 served a sentinel in the centre of the lawn with appar- 
 ently nothing whatever to guard. Out of curiosity he 
 inquired of the Czar why the man was stationed there. 
 Alexander turned to an aide-de-camp. 
 
 " Count ," said he, " why is that soldier stationed 
 
 there?" 
 
 "I do not know, your Imperial Majesty." 
 
 The Czar frowned. " Send me the officer in command," 
 he said. 
 
 The officer appeared. " Prince why is a sentinel 
 
 stationed on that lawn ? " 
 
 " I do not know, your Majesty." 
 
 44 Not know?" cried the Czar in surprise; "request 
 then the general commanding the troops at Peterhof to 
 present himself immediately." 
 
 The general appeared. "General," said the Czar, 
 " why is that soldier stationed in yonder isolated place?" 
 
 "I beg leave to inform your Majesty that it is in 
 accordance with an ancient custom," replied the general 
 evasively. 
 
 "What was the origin of the custom?" inquired Bis- 
 marck. 
 
 "I I do not at present recollect," stammered the 
 officer. 
 
CATHERINE II. 317 
 
 "Investigate, and report the result," said Alexander. 
 
 So the investigation began, and after three days and 
 nights of incessant labor, it was ascertained that some eighty 
 years before, Catherine II., looking out one spring morn- 
 ing from the windows of this palace of Peterhof , observed 
 in the centre of this lawn, the first May-flower of the sea- 
 son, lifting its delicate head above the lately frozen soil. 
 
 She ordered a soldier to stand there to prevent its being 
 plucked. The order was inscribed upon the books ; and 
 thus for eighty years, in summer and in winter, in sun- 
 shine and in storm, a sentinel had stood upon that spot, 
 no one apparently, until the time of Bismarck, caring to 
 question the reason of his so doing ! Such was, and is, 
 the absolutism of the government of the Czars ! 
 
 Catherine had long resolved that one of her grand- 
 daughters should be queen of Sweden. 
 
 Gustavus Adolphus, king of Sweden, was already 
 affianced to a princess of Mecklenburg ; but with Cathe- 
 rine to will was to do, so she contrived to have this mar- 
 riage broken off, and brought the young king to St. 
 Petersburg, where she thought her own consummate 
 address and the charms of the intended bride would 
 accomplish the rest. 
 
 For once, however, Catherine, the crafty, deceived her- 
 self. 
 
 Proposals of marriage were speedily made, the treaty 
 drawn up, the day of betrothment fixed, and a splendid 
 fete prepared. 
 
 The appointed time arrived. The empress, surrounded 
 by her court, sat in the audience chamber of the Winter 
 Palace. 
 
 Alexandrina, adorned in bridal pomp, stood at the side 
 of her imperial grandmother; all was in readiness, but 
 
318 CATHERINE II. 
 
 the royal bridegroom came not. They waited there 
 was a depressing silence the bride turned pale, the 
 empress turned red, the courtiers looked at one another 
 ominously. 
 
 A very different scene, however, was being enacted in 
 the apartments of the king of Sweden. 
 
 The Chancellor Markoff had brought the articles of 
 marriage to him for his signature. As a mere matter of 
 form, he read them over rapidly ; but the young king, 
 who listened, became aware that certain articles were 
 inserted which had not been previously agreed upon. 
 
 It was a law of Sweden that the queen of the country 
 must profess the faith of the nation, and exchange the 
 Greek for the Lutheran church ; but the haughty and im- 
 perious Catherine had decided that her imperial grand- 
 daughter should be made an exception to this law, and 
 had introduced into the marriage treaty a clause to that 
 effect. 
 
 The king refused to sign the contract. 
 
 The chancellor was thunderstruck. A mere boy to 
 resist the will of the empress ; it was preposterous ! 
 
 He flattered, he entreated, he implored ; but all in vain. 
 
 Gustavus was immovable ; and enraged at the attempt 
 to deceive him, he flung the papers away. 
 
 "No," he cried furiously, " I will not have it ! I will 
 not sign ! " and he shut himself up in his own apartment. 
 
 Here was an unexpected contretemps. Who would dare 
 to relate this pleasing news to the empress-queen, sur- 
 rounded by her expectant court ? 
 
 For some time no one could be prevailed upon to do it, 
 but finally her favorite, Zuboff, approached Catherine 
 and whispered to her. The blood rushed to her face and, 
 attempting to rise, she staggered. But she controlled her- 
 
CATHERINE II. 319 
 
 self with a mighty effort, and dismissing her court under 
 the pretence that the king of Sweden was suddenly indis- 
 posed, retired to her cabinet. 
 
 The poor Princess Alexandrina was conducted to her 
 apartment, where she fainted away. In her tender heart, 
 a sad and crushing sorrow mingled with mortification and 
 wounded pride ; but Catherine the imperial, Catherine 
 the imperious, what were her sensations? 
 
 "Braved on her throne, insulted in her court, over- 
 reached in her policy, she could only sustain herself by 
 the hope of vengeance. Pride and state etiquette forbade 
 any expression of temper, but the effect on her frame was 
 perhaps more than fatal. The king of Sweden took his 
 departure a few days afterward, and Catherine, who from 
 that instant meditated his destruction, was preparing all 
 the resources of her great empire for war, war on every 
 side, when the death stroke came, and she fell, like a 
 sorceress, suffocated among her own poisons." 
 
 Upon the 9th of November, 1796, she was found by 
 her attendants stretched upon the floor of her apartment, 
 struck by apoplexy. All attempts to reanimate her were 
 in vain ; and on the following day, without having had one 
 moment granted her to think, to prepare, or to repent, 
 this terrible and depraved old woman was hurried out of 
 the world, with all her sins upon her head. 
 
 Such was the end of her whom the Prince de Ligne had 
 pompously styled " Catherine la Grande" 
 
 Though her political crimes and private sins were such 
 as to consign her to universal execration, she seems to 
 have possessed all the graces of an accomplished French- 
 woman. 
 
 In her personal deportment, and in the circle of her 
 court, she was kind, easy, and good-humored. Her 
 
320 CATHERINE II. 
 
 serenity of temper and composure of manner were re- 
 markable ; and the contrast between the simplicity of hei 
 deportment in private and the grandeur of her situation 
 rendered her exceedingly fascinating. 
 
 She possessed so many accomplishments, was so elegant 
 and dignified, and performed with such inajest}^ and deco- 
 rum all the external functions of royalty, that none 
 approached her without respect and admiration ; but her 
 selfishness and her depravity spoiled all, and made her 
 what we have seen her. 
 
 Among all the famous queens of history, there is not 
 one, save Catherine de' Medici, whose career is so utterly 
 devoid of noble acts, so entirely dictated by " selfishness, 
 lust, and sordid greed," as that of Catherine II., removed 
 by the grace of God on the 10th of November, 1796, 
 from being longer empress of all the Russias, and from 
 the world which she had done so much to pollute. 
 
QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 321 
 
 MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 A.D. 1755-1793. 
 
 " It is our royal state that yields 
 This bitterness of woe." WORDSWORTH. 
 
 IN the grand salon of Trianon stood King Louis XV., 
 and near him, on a gold and crimson sofa, sat the 
 Marchioness of Pompadour. In his hand the king held a 
 letter which vividly depicted far too vividly for royal 
 ears the desolation of the kingdom and the ruinous 
 state of the finances ; and his Majesty frowned gloomily 
 as he gazed upon it, for it was not the habit of King 
 Louis the Well-Beloved to concern himself with the inter- 
 ests or the wishes of his subjects, or with what took 
 place within his wide domain of France. Turning sud- 
 denly to Madame de Pompadour, the king read aloud the 
 missive : " Sire, Your finances are in the greatest dis- 
 order, and the great majority of states have perished 
 through this cause ; your ministers are without capacity. 
 Open war is waged against religion. Lose no time in 
 restoring order to the state pf the finances. Embarrass- 
 ments necessitate fresh taxes, which grind the people and 
 induce toward revolt. A time will come, sire, when the 
 people will be enlightened, and that time is probably 
 near at hand"; then, turning upon his heel, he added 
 angrily, " I wish to hear no more about it. Things will 
 last as they are as long as I shall." And Madame la 
 Marquise de Pompadour, rising from her gold and crim- 
 son sofa, cried gayly, " Right, mon roi! Things will last 
 
322 QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 as long as we shall, and apr&s nous le deluge ! " Madame 
 la Marquise de Pompadour spoke truly, and when at last 
 the storm burst in all its fuiy, and the Due de Liancourt 
 announced to Louis XVI. that the Bastile had fallen, and 
 upon its smouldering ruins a people bid defiance to their 
 king, his Majesty, astonished and alarmed, exclaimed, 
 " It is a revolt, then ! " 
 
 " Nay, sire," replied Liancourt, " it is a revolution ! " 
 A revolution ! Aye, a revolution truly. And King 
 Louis leaves his splendid, proud Versailles, and Queen 
 Marie Antoinette bids sad adieu to Trianon. The royal 
 diadem of France, torn from a kingly brow, is trampled 
 in the dust, and the blood-red emblem of the Jacobins 
 appears upon the gilded portals of the Tuileries Palace. 
 Anarchy ! confusion ! chaos ! Government, Philosophy, 
 Religion, all are hurled headlong in the dark abyss, and 
 fury reigns supreme. But amid this overthrow of men 
 and things, a daring soul arises who grasps the helm of 
 state, and stands erect beneath the weight ; who chains 
 revolution in France, and unchains it in the rest of Eu-. 
 rope ; and who, having added to his name the brilliant 
 synonymes of Rivoli, Jena, and Marengo, picks up the 
 royal crown, and, burnishing it into imperial splendor, 
 places it triumphantly upon his head, to found for a time 
 a kind of Roman Empire, himself the Caesar of the 
 nineteenth century. 
 
 All the palace, all Vienna, was full of excitement. 
 The lo} T al affection and sentimental lamentation of the 
 inhabitants gave vent to themselves in cries of grief. For 
 the fair young daughter of their empress, in whose coining 
 exaltation they took the utmost pride, who was to do 
 them such honor and service at the court of France, she 
 whose bright face ever beamed with smiles, was, on this 
 
MARIE-ANTOINETTE. 
 
QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 323 
 
 21st of April, 1770, departing on her long journey, and, 
 as many without much prophetic insight might have per- 
 ceived, her difficult career. When the great coach rolled 
 from the palace courtyard, the girl-bride covered her 
 face with her hands, which }'et could not conceal the tears 
 that streamed through her slender fingers. Again and 
 again she turned for a farewell look at the mother, the 
 home, and the early friends, which she was never to see 
 again. The carriage rolled away, and Marie Antoinette 
 Jeanne Josephe de Lorraine turned her back forever on 
 the Prater and the Danube, Schonbrunn and the moated 
 Laxenburg. 
 
 Spring-time in sunny France ; the birds are singing 
 merrily, the trees are putting forth their leaves, and all 
 nature wears a look of happiness and joy. The Chateau 
 de Compiegne is filled with guests, a brilliant assem- 
 blage of the haute noblesse composing the court of Louis 
 XV. Upon the terrace stands the king, and with him his 
 three grandsons, the Dauphin (Louis XVI.), Monsieur 
 le Comte de Provence (Louis XVIII.), and the Comte d' 
 Artois (Charles X.), and an eager, anxious crowd sur- 
 rounds them. All gaze in one direction, for Louis, the 
 Dauphin, awaits his bride, she who is to be the future 
 queen of France. But little like a bridegroom looks the 
 timid, fat Louis, upon this bright spring morning. He 
 wears an air of resigned indifference, contrasting strongly 
 with the eagerness of his Majesty, King Louis XV., who, 
 notwithstanding his sixty years, makes a far more gallant 
 knight than he. There is a cloud of dust upon the horizon ; 
 the avant-couriers arrive ; the king and the Dauphin mount 
 their horses, and with a numerous retinue ride forth to 
 meet and welcome the approaching bride. And now the 
 old state travelling carriage is in sight. Putting spurs to 
 
324 QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 his horse, the king leads the way, and, hat in hand, rides 
 up to the side of the cumbrous vehicle. The door flies 
 open, and before him in all the freshness of her fifteen 
 summers is Marie Antoinette Jeanne Josephe de Lorraine, 
 Archduchess of Austria. The introductions follow, and 
 the young bride and her bashful fiancee are conducted 
 back to Versailles, where, on the 16th of May, 1770, the 
 nuptial benediction is pronounced by the Archbishop of 
 Paris, in the chapel of the palace. 
 
 Then followed the fetes, and notwithstanding the ex- 
 chequer was in the usual chronic state of exhaustion, 
 twenty millions of francs a mighty sum for that period 
 was spent upon them. 
 
 "Fetes magnifiques" they were termed, from their sur- 
 passing in splendor anything witnessed in France since 
 the days of Louis le Grand. For weeks the public rejoic- 
 ings continued. 
 
 On the 30th of May, they were to close with the fte of 
 the Ville de Paris, and in the evening a display of illumi- 
 nations and fireworks on the Place Louis XV. (now the 
 Place de la Concorde) which were to surpass all that had 
 preceded them. Thousands of people filled the square 
 and all the approaching avenues. Most unfortunately, 
 through some mismanagement, the scaffolding supporting 
 the fireworks took fire and burned rapidly. No means 
 were at hand for extinguishing the flames, and the terror- 
 stricken multitude rushed in all directions. Crushing 
 upon each other, hundreds were suffocated by the pres- 
 sure. Those that fell were trampled to death. Groans 
 and screams, and frantic cries for help that none could 
 render, filled the air. Nothing, in fact, could be done 
 until the fire had burnt itself out, and the extent of the 
 calamity was ascertained. The Dauphin and Dauphiuess, 
 
QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 325 
 
 distressed at so sad a disaster, gave their entire year's 
 allowance towards mitigating the misery that had fallen 
 upon many poor people; and the ll f&tes magnifiques" 
 with all their splendor and rejoicing, ending thus in "lam- 
 entation, mourning, and woe," seem to have been, as it 
 were, a foreshadowing of the career of her for whom they 
 had been given, the unfortunate Marie Antoinette. 
 
 "It is the 10th of May, 1774, a lovely evening fol- 
 lowing a bright spring da} r . The sun has sunk below the 
 horizon ; the brilliant hues of the western sky have faded 
 into the dark shades of the advancing night, and the 
 Chateau of Versailles, in its sombre grandeur, looms 
 larger in the increasing gloom. On the terrace are 
 saunterers in earnest conversation ; carriages and horses 
 and a throng of attendants in the marble court. A group 
 of impatient pages, buyers booted and spurred, an es- 
 cort of the household troops, eager for an order to 
 mount, all are watching, with anxious eyes, the flick- 
 ering glare of a candle that faintly illumines the window 
 of a chamber in the chateau." 
 
 In that chamber lies Louis, once the " well-beloved," 
 in the last stages of confluent small-pox. As the clock of 
 Versailles tolls the hour of twelve, at midnight, the flame 
 is extinguished ; the king is dead ! Louis XV. has 
 breathed his last ! Instantly all is movement and ani- 
 mation in the courtyard, while through the gilded gal- 
 leries of Versailles resounds the cry, destined to be heard 
 never again within its walls, "The king is dead! Long 
 live the king ! " as, with a noise like thunder, the court- 
 iers rush from the antechamber of the dead monarch to 
 the apartments of the Dauphin, to hail him king of 
 France. This extraordinary tumult, in the silence of 
 midnight, conveyed to Louis and Marie Antoinette the 
 
326 QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 first intelligence that the crown of France had fallen 
 upon their brows ; and, overcome by the violence of 
 their emotions, they fell upon their knees exclaiming, 
 U O God! guide us, protect us; we are too young to 
 govern ! " 
 
 Preparations had been made for an immediate flight ; 
 for all alike were anxious to escape the infectious air 
 of the petits appartements and grande galerie, whose 
 deadly atmosphere claimed yet a hecatomb of victims. 
 Three hours after the king's death Versailles was a 
 desert ; for the young king and the queen, with the 
 whole court in retinue, had set out in their carriages for 
 Choisy. A few under-servants and priests of the " in- 
 ferior clergy" remained to pray beside the body, which 
 was ultimately placed in a coffin filled with lime, thrust 
 into a hunting-carriage, and, followed by a few attend- 
 ants, with no signs of mourning, the cortege set out, " au 
 grand trot " for St. Denis. 
 
 There were none to mourn the departed monarch ; and 
 in an hour Louis the Well-Beloved was forgotten, or 
 remembered but to be despised. But a single Fontenoy 
 veteran, inspired by the memories of other da}*s, rushed 
 forward and presented arms as the scanty funeral cortege 
 of the once vaunted hero of a brilliant fight passed through 
 the gates of Versailles, in the dead of night, on the 13th 
 of May, 1774. " What matters it," murmured the old 
 soldier, regretfully; "he was at Fontenoy!" 
 
 "It was a momentous crisis in the history of the nation 
 when Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette ascended the 
 throne of France. The time had arrived when the 
 abuses of the Old Regime could no longer be tolerated, 
 and sweeping reforms were demanded. The nation, 
 hitherto politically a nullity, had awakened to a sense 
 
QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 327 
 
 of its rights ; while absolute sovereignty, with its arbi- 
 trary dictum, '-L'etat c'est moi,' and its right divine 
 to govern wrong, had lost its prestige, and had appar- 
 ently no prospect of regaining it." 
 
 The people, indeed, regarded the young monarch as 
 the "hope of the nation," and named him " Louis le 
 Desire," a testimony to the ardor with which they had 
 looked forward to his accession. And it is probable that, 
 had a more able pilot " a king more a king" than that 
 feeblest of monarchs, Louis XVI. been called to the 
 helm at that period, "the vessel of state might have 
 been safely guided through the shoals and quicksands 
 surrounding her, and escaped the eddies of that devas- 
 tating whirlpool in which she was eventually engulfed." 
 Indeed, if sincerely wishing to see his people prosperous 
 and happy could have made them so, France would have 
 had no more beneficent ruler than Louis XVI. But his 
 good wishes and intentions were rendered of no avail by 
 his utter want of energy and ability to carry them out. 
 Infirm of purpose at the first, he remained so to the end. 
 The decree, u Let there be light," unfortunately, never 
 went forth to quicken his mental faculties. The queen, 
 on the other hand, possessed all the courage and resolu- 
 tion of her imperial mother, Maria Theresa ; and, had 
 she been able to control affairs, the revolution would 
 have been crushed in its infancy with an iron hand. 
 Again, had the king been able to hold to his milder 
 measures, to maintain on the following day that which 
 he had declared the day before, it is possible that France 
 might have passed quietly from an absolute to a constitu- 
 tional monarchy. But the self-will and determination of 
 the one, and the weakness and instability of the other, 
 rendered a union of ideas impossible and the revolution 
 inevitable. 
 
328 QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 Little was known by the nation at large of the mental 
 qualities of the young king. He was now in his twentieth 
 year ; and it had been noised among the people that he 
 had inherited all the virtues of his father, " Le Grand 
 Dauphin," to which were added the frugal tastes, the 
 genial temper, and the air of bonhomie to which the gal- 
 lant Henry IV. owed so much of his popularity. 
 
 "No wonder, then, that the accession of Louis XVI. 
 was hailed throughout France with general delight, or 
 that the enthusiastic people their many expected re- 
 forms already conceded in imagination should have 
 written in conspicuous characters, ' RESURREXIT,' 
 beneath the statue of the gallant Henry, whose jovial 
 humor and pliant conscience enabled him to gratify his 
 Catholic subjects with his presence at a Te Deum." 
 
 When the king made his public entry into the capital, 
 the joyous demonstrations of the Parisians affected him 
 deeply. " What have I done," he exclaimed, " that tliey 
 should love me so much ? " Ah, Louis ! you have as yet 
 done nothing; but much, very much, is expected from 
 you ! 
 
 But Louis XVI. possessed no energy ; and the torpid 
 action of his mind was but too plainly evinced by the 
 sluggish inactivity of his heavy frame, as, stolid in his 
 immense corpulence, he sat lolling in his chariot. 
 
 Perhaps, in their eagerness for reforms, the Parisians 
 displayed unreasonable impatience. But when, a few 
 weeks later, the young monarch again passed through 
 Paris, he remarked though unfortunately the lesson 
 was lost on him that the acclamations of the people 
 were far less frequent and fervid than on the former oc- 
 casion. And his eyes were filled with tears when he per- 
 ceived that the conspicuously displayed " RESURREXIT" 
 
QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 329 
 
 was transferred from the statue of the gallant Henry to 
 that of the slothful Louis XV. Still, with all his vices, 
 Louis the Well-Beloved, on those rare occasions when 
 he appeared in public, had always commanded the re- 
 spectful homage of his subjects, simply by the dignity of 
 his bearing. By the same means he imposed silence on 
 his courtiers, when, in license of speech, they infringed 
 the limits within which it was sometimes his bon plaisir 
 to restrain them. Occasionally, too, when the parliament 
 opposed his edicts, or the dissentient opinion of a minis- 
 ter roused him from his habitual indolence, he could at 
 once assume the arbitrary tone, the "je le veux" of the 
 absolute monarch, and carry out his purposes with all 
 the hauteur of his royal ancestor, the Grand Monarque. 
 4 'And it is probable that his handsome person and ma- 
 jestic air for, whatever may have been his shortcom- 
 ings in other and more essential qualities, in appearance 
 he was every inch a king may have gone far in prevent- 
 ing the utter extinction of the enthusiastic affection which 
 on several occasions during his reign the people so singu- 
 larly, yet so generally, expressed towards the royal de- 
 bauche. A lingering spark of that once ardent feeling 
 must have smouldered on in their hearts to the end ; for, 
 grievously oppressed though they were, and vicious as 
 they knew him to be, they still toiled on under their bur- 
 dens, not exactly uncomplainingly, yet in a spirit of toler- 
 ation towards him ; while the yearned-for relief was, as if 
 by the tacit consent of his subjects, to be claimed only 
 from his successor." Truly, indications were not wanting 
 of the approaching storm. But " Apres nous le deluge!" 
 cried Madame de Pompadour, gayly ; and the king and 
 the court echoed the cry. Madame la Marquise was 
 right. The deluge came ; and the ro} 7 al authority which 
 
330 QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 Richelieu, Mazarin, and Louis XIV. had raised to such 
 gigantic heights, and which Louis XV. had so shamefully 
 abused, was hurled prostrate in the dust. 
 
 Bright shines the sun on this 10th day of June, 1775 ; 
 and, heavy in its massive architecture, the grand old 
 cathedral of Rheims looms up against the clear blue sky. 
 The interior is hung with crimson cloth of gold. On the 
 right of the altar, arrayed in their red and violet robes, 
 point lace, gold crosses, chains, and mitres, sit the great 
 grandees of the church. On the left, in their mantles of 
 state, stand the temporal peers of the realm, and a 
 brilliant crowd of gold-embroidered naval and military 
 uniforms surrounds them ; while above, in the lofty gal- 
 leries of the nave, in the midst of pearls and diamonds, 
 gold, and precious stones, and lofty, waving plumes, is 
 Marie Antoinette, proud and radiant, surrounded by the 
 ladies of her retinue. 
 
 For on this 10th day of June, " good Louis XVI.," as 
 the country people say, is to be crowned. Maria Theresa 
 was anxious that Marie Antoinette should be crowned 
 with the king ; but she evinced not the slightest inclina- 
 tion, and, indeed, it was only at Vienna that such an 
 event seems to have been expected or desired. But 
 among the glittering throng which fills the cathedral, one 
 sees not the king. He waits in the sacristy, whither two 
 of the dignitaries of the church proceed to lead him to 
 the front of the altar. The door forthwith flies open, and 
 Louis XVI. appears in all the insignia of royalty. The 
 mantle of state is placed upon his shoulders, and anointing 
 him with the seven unctions of the sacre, the archbishop 
 cries aloud, " Vivat rex in aeternum!" The grand old 
 organ peals forth as he approaches the altar, and the 
 fresh young voices of the choristers swell through the 
 
QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 331 
 
 aisles and naves as they sing the choral service. How 
 startling is the effect when, during a sotto voce passage of 
 the service, the archbishop places the crown upon the 
 king's head, and he, suddenly raising his hand, thrusts it 
 aside, exclaiming, u Elle me gene!" Poor Louis ! Truly 
 he was destined to find it genant in every sense. Henry 
 III. had said, "Elle me pique!" All knew what had 
 been his end. "The queen, who had been a deeply in- 
 terested spectator of the scene, exhibited so much agita- 
 tion at the moment of the king's exclamation, that she 
 was near fainting, and was conducted from the cathedral." 
 The ceremony is concluded ; and the clanging of bells, 
 the roaring of cannon, the lively chirping of thousands of 
 birds, freed from their cages, to symbolize the "vieittes' 
 franchises " of France, and the tumultuous shouts of 
 " Vive le roi !" proclaim to the multitude that "Louis 
 le Desire" is crowned king of France. 
 
 Marie Antoinette had been reared in all the freedom of 
 the Austrian court, and it was some time before she could 
 habituate herself to the etiquette-laden atmosphere of 
 Versailles, where every look, every motion, every gesture, 
 were governed alike by the inexorable rules of la grande 
 politesse, laid down with such precision and exactitude by 
 King Louis XIV. From the cradle to the tomb, in sick- 
 ness and in health, at table, at council, in the chase, in 
 the army, in the midst of their court, and in their private 
 apartments, kings and princes, in France, were governed 
 by ceremonial rules. The pomp and glitter at Versailles 
 dazzled the beholder. There all breathed of greatness, 
 of exaltation, and of unapproachableness ; and the peo- 
 ple, awestruck at the splendor and gorgeous trappings of 
 royalty, fell prostrate before the throne. 
 
 Madame Campan thus describes her feelings upon first 
 entering this charmed spot : 
 
332 QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 u The queen, Marie Leckzinska, wife of Louis XV., 
 died just before I was presented at court. The grand 
 apartments hung with black, the great chairs of state 
 raised on several steps and surmounted by a canopy 
 adorned with plumes, the caparisoned horses, the im- 
 mense retinue in court mourning, the enormous shoulder- 
 knots embroidered with gold and silver spangles which 
 decorated the coats of the pages and footmen, all this 
 magnificence had such an effect upon my senses, that I 
 could scarcely support myself when introduced to the 
 princesses. 
 
 ' ' How well was the potent magic of grandeur and dig- 
 nity, which ought to surround sovereigns, understood at 
 Versailles ! 
 
 " Marie Antoinette, dressed in white, with a plain straw 
 hat, and a little switch in her hand, walking on foot, and 
 followed by a single servant, through the walks leading 
 to the Petit Trianon, would never have thus disconcerted 
 me. And I believe this extreme simplicity was the 
 first and only real fault of all those with which she is 
 reproached." 
 
 The illusions of etiquette were necessary to Louis XV. 
 Louis XIV. might have dispensed with them. His throne, 
 resplendent with the triumph of arms, literature, and the 
 fine arts, was glorious enough without them. But he 
 would be more than a great king, this mighty Louis ! 
 And so this demi-god, when age and calamity had taught 
 him that he was but human, endeavored to conceal the 
 ravages of time and of disease beneath the vain pomp of 
 ceremony. He, Louis "the Magnificent," the most ac- 
 complished of gentlemen, habitually exacted and received 
 from the noblest of his realm adulations and menial 
 services better becoming the palace of Ispahan than 
 the Chateau of Versailles. 
 
QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 333 
 
 "All service to the king and queen, and, in a lower 
 degree, to the Dauphin and Dauphiness, was regarded as 
 an honor to the persons serving, an honor to be keenly 
 contended for by persons of the highest rank, no matter 
 what delay, or inconvenience, or unutterable weariness of 
 spirit was experienced by the individuals thus served." 
 Her Majest} T the queen could not pass from one apartment 
 to the other, without being followed by the lords and 
 ladies of her retinue. The ceremonies of rising and dress- 
 ing were accompanied by laws and rites as irrevocable as 
 the decrees of the Medes and Persians. 
 
 The petites entrees and the grandes entrees had each 
 their appropriate ceremonies. At the former, none but 
 the physicians, reader, and secretary had the privilege of 
 being present, whether her Majesty breakfasted in bed or 
 out of it. At the grande toilette, the toilet table, which 
 was always the most splendid piece of furniture in the 
 apartment, was brought forward, and the queen surren- 
 dered herself to the hands of her hairdresser. Then fol- 
 lowed the grande entree; sofas were ranged in circles for 
 the ladies of the household. The members of the royal 
 family, the princes of the blood, and all the great officers, 
 having the privilege, paid their court. Only grandes 
 dames of the haute noblesse could occupy the tabouret in 
 the royal presence. There were well-defined degrees of 
 royal salutation, a smile, a nod, a bending of the body, 
 or leaning forward as if to rise, which was the highest 
 form of acknowledgment. If her Majesty wished her 
 gloves, or a glass of water, what she desired was brought 
 by a page upon a gold salver, and the salver was pre- 
 sented in turn with solemn precision, according to the 
 rank of the persons present, by the femme de chambre to 
 the lady-in-waiting ; but if the chief dame d'honneur, or 
 
334 QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 a princess of the blood, or any member of the royal family 
 entered at the time, the salver was returned to the femme 
 de chambre, and b}' her offered again to the dame d'hon- 
 neur, or to the princess, that she. might have the privi- 
 lege of presentation, till, at last, the article reached its 
 destination. 
 
 One winter's morning, Marie Antoinette, who was par- 
 tially disrobed, was just about to put on her body linen. 
 The lady-in-waiting held it ready unfolded for her. The 
 dame d'honneur entered. Etiquette demanded that she 
 should present the robe. Hastily slipping off her gloves, 
 she took the garment, but at that moment a rustling was 
 heard at the door. It was opened, and in came Madame 
 la Duchesse d'Oiieans. She must now be the bearer of 
 the garment. But the laws of etiquette would not allow 
 the dame d'honneur to hand the linen directly to Madame 
 la Duchesse. It must pass down the various grades of 
 rank to the lowest, and by her be presented to the highest. 
 The linen was consequently passed back again from one 
 to another, till it was finally placed in the hands of the 
 duchess. She was just upon the point of conveying it to 
 its proper destination, when suddenly .the door opened, 
 and the Comtesse de Provence entered. Again the linen 
 passed from hand to hand until it reached Madame la Com- 
 tesse. She, perceiving the uncomfortable position of the 
 queen, who sat shivering with cold, without stopping to re- 
 move her gloves, placed the linen upon her shoulders. Her 
 Majesty, however, was quite unable to restrain her im- 
 patience, and exclaimed, "How disagreeable, how tire- 
 some ! " Such was the etiquette of the court of Ver- 
 sailles, and its inexorable rules governed alike every 
 action in the lives of the king and queen, while the 
 cavaliers and grandes dames observed with the greatest 
 
QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 335 
 
 minuteness every punctilio of la grande politesse et lagrande 
 galanterie, that by so doing they might widen the gulf al- 
 ready existing between them and the new ideas of liberte 
 and egalite which were beginning to pervade the realm. 
 
 " You love flowers ; I give you a bouquet of them by 
 offering }'ou Le Petit Trianon entirely for your own private 
 use. There you may reign sole mistress ; for the Trianons, 
 by right, belong to you, having always been the residence 
 of the favorites of the kings of France." For Louis XVI. 
 this speech was a great effort of gallantry. It delighted 
 Marie Antoinette. Here, then, was that for which she 
 had so often longed ; a place to which she could retire 
 from the cares of state, and throw aside the pomps and 
 punctilios of etiquette. She loved not the grand old 
 gardens of Versailles, with their terraces and clipped yews. 
 She would have an English garden of the day, with its 
 thickets, waterfalls, and rustic bridges, such as the Prince 
 de Ligny had made at Bel-oeil and the Marquis de Cara- 
 man at Roissy. Le grand simple is to take the place of 
 le grand magnifique, and attired in white muslin, with a 
 a plain straw hat, and followed by a single attendant, the 
 queen roams through the gardens and groves of the Petit 
 Trianon. Through the lanes and byways she chases the 
 butterfly, picks flowers free as a peasant girl, and leaning 
 over the fences, chats with the country maids as they 
 milk the cows. 
 
 This freedom from restraint was etiquette at the court 
 of Vienna ; it was barbarism at the court of Versailles. 
 The courtiers were amazed, the ceremony-stricken dow- 
 agers were shocked ; and Paris, France, and Europe, 
 were filled with stories of the waywardness and eccen- 
 tricities of Marie Antoinette. And Mesdames, the king's 
 aunts, from their retreat at Belle vue, and Madame du 
 
336 QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 Barry, from her domain of Luviciennes, lost no opportu- 
 nity to gather reports unfavorable to the reputation of 
 the queen, and spread them far and wide. 
 
 Still another surprise was in store for the nobility, for 
 upon one occasion, at Trianon, when the queen seated 
 herself, she requested in a lively, nonchalant manner the 
 whole of the ladies, without distinction, who formed her 
 intimate circle, to seat themselves also ! What a blow to 
 those who held so dear the privileges they derived from 
 distinction of office and superiority of rank ! La haute 
 and la petite noblesse, in spite of their cherished distinc- 
 tions, all are to sit down together ! -It is terrible ! How 
 many enemies are made, and allies added to the circles at 
 Bellevue and Luviciennes, by that little act! Poor 
 thoughtless Marie Antoinette ! 
 
 But she proposed to reign at Trianon, not as queen of 
 France, but simply as a lady of the manor, surrounded by 
 her friends. And so she built the Swiss cottages, with 
 their thatched roofs and rustic balconies ; for it was her 
 good pleasure that she, her king, and her friends, should 
 be country people for the nonce. The queen's cottage 
 stood in the centre, and she was the fermi&re. The king 
 was the miller, and occupied the mill, with its joyous tick- 
 tack. Monsieur le Comte de Provence, figured as school- 
 master, while the Comte d'Artois was in his element as 
 gamekeeper. However, one may be sure that these sim- 
 ple country folk had no want of retainers to do their be- 
 hests. In the dairy, where the cream was put in the blue 
 and white porcelain of Trianon, on marble tables, diligent 
 dairymaids skimmed and churned, and displayed fresh 
 butter and eggs. Down by the lake were more masquer- 
 aders, washerwomen this time ; and Madame la Com- 
 tesse de Chalons beat the clothes with ebony beaters, 
 
QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 337 
 
 In the stable, the sheep, unconscious of the honor to be 
 done them, stood ready for clipping with golden shears. 
 " The Due de Guines might not assist at this, because he 
 was so stout and so desperately bent on resorting to art 
 to restrain his bulk, that his valet, in selecting his mas- 
 ter's garments every morning, was fain to ask, ' Does my 
 lord the Duke sit down to-day ? ' But there were other 
 helpers, the big, jovial Due de Coigny, and the rough- 
 voiced, stiff-jointed Comte d'Adhe"mar, wno could, at least, 
 hoist sacks of corn up the mahogany steps to the granary." 
 Madame la Fermiere distributed refreshments as she 
 overlooked and encouraged her workers. And so the 
 dainty work, which was the idlest pastime, went on to the 
 accompaniment of gay jests and rippling laughter. 
 
 This descent from the throne, which was so congenial 
 to the queen, was loudly condemned. In their first efforts 
 for reform the people had no wish to detract from the 
 hereditary splendor of the crown, or the " divinity," which 
 for so many centuries had hedged the kings of France. 
 It was the king and queen who took the first steps. Win- 
 ter comes, and with it a heav} T fall of snow, and Marie 
 Antoinette longs again for the merry sleigh rides of 
 Vienna. "The old court sledges are brought forth 
 these being professedly economical times for examina- 
 tion as to their possibly serviceable condition. A glance, 
 however, suffices to show that disuse and neglect have put 
 them completely hors de service." So new ones of great 
 magnificence are prepared, with " abundance of painting 
 and gilding, trappings of embroidered crimson leather and 
 velvet, with innumerable tinkling bells of gold or silver." 
 The horses, with nodding plumes and gorgeous capari- 
 sons, dazzled the eyes of the Parisians as they swept 
 through the Champs Elyse'es, drawing their loads of lords 
 
338 QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 and ladies enveloped in furs. The people frowned disap- 
 provingly. It was a new amusement an innovation ; and 
 angry, envious tongues declared that the " Autrichienne 
 had taken advantage of the rigor of the season which had 
 caused such widespread misery to introduce her Austrian 
 pastimes into the capital of France." 
 
 Marie Antoinette was imprudent, very imprudent ; that 
 was her only crime. But much allowance must be made 
 for one, who, at the age of fifteen years, was made la 
 premiere dame in a court the most gorgeous, and, after 
 that of Catherine II. of Russia, the most dissolute, in 
 Europe. 
 
 The people had already begun to compute the cost of 
 equipages, palaces, crown jewels, and courtiers. And 
 some few of the grands seigneurs, even, had begun to 
 recognize the growing power of the vox populi; but Marie 
 Antoinette did not yet know that public opinion was of 
 any importance to her. "The slanderous tongues of 
 Mesdames and the pious circle of Bellevue, the innuendoes 
 of Luviciennes, and the insidious attacks of Monsieur le 
 Comte de Provence, all this she understood, and re- 
 sented. It seemed a matter of course that it should be 
 thus ; but the right of the people to interfere with her 
 amusements and to call in question their propriety, was 
 something she could not understand." Alas ! poor queen ; 
 the dreadful significancy of that expression ' ' THE PEO- 
 PLE," and the vengeful acts to which an infuriated popu- 
 lace could be driven, were two terrible lessons she had yet 
 to learn. 
 
 On the 22d of October, 1781, a child is born at Ver- 
 sailles. The king advances towards the queen's couch ; 
 with a profound bow, and in a voice that falters with 
 emoxlon, he exclaims, " Madame, you have fulfilled the 
 
QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 339 
 
 dearest wishes of my heart and the anxious hopes of the 
 nation ; you are the mother of a Dauphin" Nothing could 
 exceed the public rejoicings ; the triumph became well- 
 nigh frantic. For it is recorded that their superabundant 
 joy found expression in a sort of delirium, people of all 
 grades, and who had no previous acquaintance with each 
 other, indulging in fraternal embraces in the street. The 
 king himself went through a similar display of excessive 
 joy. He laughed, he wept, the tears streaming down 
 his fat face. He ran in and out of the antechamber, pre- 
 senting his hand to kiss or to shake or both, if they 
 pleased to all and each indiscriminately, from the sol- 
 emn grandees, who were there to attest the birth, to the 
 humblest lackey in attendance. "The royal infant, splen- 
 didly arrayed and with the grand cross of St. Louis on his 
 breast, was placed in his satin and point-lace bassinet to 
 receive the homage of the great officers of state. It is 
 recorded that he replied in a most suitable manner to 
 the many flattering speeches addressed to him ; and this 
 being the first opportunity he had had of exhibiting the 
 power of his lungs, he availed himself of it freely." 
 Madame Royale had been born three years before ; two 
 other children were subsequently added, the Due de 
 Normandie, and the Princess Sophie ; but only Madame 
 Royale and the Due de Normandie were destined to sur- 
 vive to endure those woes which eventually overwhelmed 
 the royal family. 
 
 Marie Antoinette was now in the flower of her beauty, 
 on which French biographers love to dwell. Tilly said, 
 " Her eyes recalled all the changes of the waves of the 
 sea, and seemed made to reveal and reflect the blue of 
 the sky." Her fine throat and the lofty carriage of her 
 head were remarkable ; and she once said, laughingly, to 
 
340 QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 Madame Le Brun, " If I were not a queen, should not I 
 look insolent ? " 
 
 " As one would have offered a chair to another woman, 
 one would have offered a throne to her ; and when she 
 descended the marble staircase at Versailles, preceded by 
 the officers who announced her approach, saluted in the 
 great court by the beating of drums and the presentation 
 of arms, all heads were uncovered respectfully, all hearts 
 were filled with admiration of the woman, as well as with 
 loyalty to the queen." 
 
 Who shall tell the true story of the diamond necklace ? 
 It will probably never be told. The papers of the Cardi- 
 nal de Rohan, which might have thrown much light upon 
 the gubject, were unfortunately destroyed. Little did 
 Marie Antoinette think, as she entered Strasburg in tri- 
 umph on her marriage journey, that she would encounter, 
 in the magnificent robes of a cardinal's coadjutor, a man 
 who was to prove her deadly foe, the insolent and profli- 
 gate Prince Louis de Rohan. He had been ambassador 
 at Vienna, where he had disgusted Maria Theresa by his 
 profligacy and arrogance. She had procured his with- 
 drawal. He had not been allowed to appear at the court 
 of Versailles ; and now for ten long } T ears he had fretted 
 and fumed under a sense of the n^al displeasure. Boeh- 
 mer, the crown jeweller, had, for a period of years, been 
 collecting and assorting the stones which should form an 
 incomparable necklace, in row upon row, pendants and 
 tassels of lustrous diamonds, till the price had reached 
 the royal pitch of three hundred and fifty thousand dol- 
 lars. This costly "collar" he offered to the king, who 
 would willingly have bought it for the queen had she 
 desired it ; but Marie Antoinette replied, that if the 
 money were to be spent, it had better be used in fitting a 
 
QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 341 
 
 frigate for the royal navy. His Most Christian Majesty 
 concurred exactly in this sentiment, and, returning the 
 necklace to Boehmer with the words, "We have more 
 need of ships than of diamonds," thought no more about 
 the matter. Not so did the Cardinal de Rohan, and the 
 intrigante Madame de Lamotte. They had made up their 
 minds to possess the three hundred and fifty thousand 
 dollars represented by the glittering gems. So they laid 
 their clever heads together, and, by forging notes of the 
 queen and sundry other little plots which were wonder- 
 fully successful, obtained the necklace, leaving Boehmer 
 to look to the queen for payment. Of course payment 
 was not forthcoming, and in his distress the jeweller re- 
 lated the affair to Madame Campan, telling her he feared 
 he had been duped. Madame Campan proceeded at once 
 to Versailles, and laid the matter before the queen. It 
 was the 15th of August, 1784, Assumption day, and Prince 
 Louis de Rohan, in full pontificals, and wearing the Grand 
 Cross of St. Louis, arrived at Versailles to perform mass 
 in the royal chapel ; but he had scarcely entered the (Eil 
 de Boeuf, when he was summoned to the cabinet of the 
 king. As he entered, Louis XVI. turned upon him sud- 
 denly, inquiring, " You have purchased diamonds of 
 Boehmer?" "Yes, sire," was the trembling reply. 
 "What have you done with them?" the king added. 
 " I thought," replied the cardinal, "that they had been 
 delivered to the queen." "Who commissioned you to 
 make this purchase?" "The Comtesse de Lamotte," 
 was the reply ; " she handed me a letter from her Majest}*, 
 requesting me to obtain the necklace for her. Indeed, I 
 thought I was obeying her Majesty's wishes by taking this 
 business upon myself." 
 
 " How could you imagine, sir," indignantly interrupted 
 
342 QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 Marie Antoinette, " that I should have selected you for 
 such a purpose, when I have not addressed you for eight 
 3 r ears, and how could you suppose that I should have 
 acted through the mediation of such a character as 
 Madame la Comtesse de Lamotte ? " 
 
 The cardinal was in the most violent agitation ; he 
 drew from his pocket a letter, directed to the Comtesse 
 de Lamotte, and signed with the queen's name. Her 
 Majesty glanced at it, and instantly pronounced it a for- 
 gery, and the king added, "How could you, a prince of 
 the church and grand almoner of my household, not have 
 detected it? This letter is signed Marie Antoinette de 
 France. Queens sign their names short ; it is not even 
 the queen's handwriting." Then drawing a letter from 
 his pocket, and handing it to De Rohan, he said, "Are 
 you the author of that letter? " 
 
 The cardinal turned pale, and, leaning upon a table, 
 appeared as though he would fall to the floor. 
 
 "I have no wish, Monsieur le Cardinal," the king 
 added, "to find you guilty; explain to me this enigma; 
 account for all these manoeuvres with Boehmer. Where 
 did you obtain these securities and these promissory 
 notes, signed in the queen's name?" 
 
 The cardinal was trembling in every nerve: "Sire, I 
 am too much agitated now to answer your Majesty ; give 
 me a little time to collect my thoughts." " Go into my 
 cabinet," replied the king; " you will there find papers, 
 pens, and ink. At your leisure, write what you desire to 
 to say to me." 
 
 But the written statements of M. de Rohan were as 
 unsatisfactory as his verbal ones. In half an hour he 
 returned with a paper covered with blottings, alterations, 
 and erasures. Louis' anger was aroused, and, throwing 
 
QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 343 
 
 open the folding doors, he cried out in imperious tones, 
 very unusual for him, which resounded through the 
 (Eilde Bceuf and grande galerie: "Arrest the Cardinal 
 de Rohan ! " The Baron de Bretuil approached through 
 the crowd of astonished courtiers, and, summoning the 
 officer on guard, he indicated the cardinal with the words, 
 " De par le rot, Monseigneur, you are arrested; at }'our 
 risk, officer." But, before the cardinal could be removed, 
 he had spoken three words in German to one of his 
 officials, and given him a slip of paper. The horse on 
 which the man rode post haste to the cardinal's palace in 
 Paris, fell dead in the courtyard ; but the red portfolio, 
 containing the supposed autographs of the queen's letters, 
 lay in ashes before it could be sealed up in the name of 
 justice and of the king. The cardinal was taken to the 
 Bastile. More arrests followed, including that of the 
 Comtesse de Lamotte. For nine months the trial lasted 
 before the Council of the Grand Chambre. The Pope 
 protested against a prince of the church being made 
 accountable for his acts to any but the highest ecclesias- 
 tical tribunal (an assembly of the cardinals at Rome) ; 
 while the haute noblesse looked on the cause of the Prince 
 de Rohan as their own, considering the rights and privi- 
 leges of their rank intrenched upon, when a near relative 
 of the princes of the blood was put on his trial before the 
 Council of the Grand Chambre. So the cardinal was 
 eventually acquitted, and Madame de Lamotte alone 
 was severely punished by flogging and branding on both 
 shoulders. 
 
 Their Majesties were chagrined at the acquittal of M. 
 de Rohan and shocked at the punishment of the coun- 
 tess. The former was an insult to the king, the latter to 
 the queen; for Madame de Lamotte boasted a descent 
 
344 QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 from the House of Valois and roj'al blood within hei 
 veins. Such was the affair of the Diamond Necklace, 
 which, though apparently trivial in itself, involved con- 
 sequences of the most momentous importance. 
 
 "Mind that miserable affair of the necklace," said 
 Talleyrand; "I should be in nowise surprised if it 
 should overturn the French monarchy." 
 
 Whoever were the guilty ones, Marie Antoinette was 
 entirely innocent. She, however, experienced all the 
 ignominy she could have encountered had she been in- 
 volved in the deepest guilt, and the affair furnished a fine 
 theme for the malevolence of Bellevue and Luviciennes. 
 
 Respect for royalty was on the wane. The king, of 
 course, had shared with the queen in the disrespect which 
 Mesdames, his aunts, were desirous should rest on her 
 alone ; and the insulting conduct towards him of his 
 brothers, Monsieur le Comte de Provence and the liber- 
 tine, the Comte d'Artois, who, according to an eye-wit- 
 ness, "on occasions of great state or solemnity, will 
 pass before the king twenty times, push him aside, tread 
 on his feet, and this, apparently, without any thought of 
 apology or excuse," together with the affair of the Dia- 
 mond Necklace, were well calculated to debase him fur- 
 ther in the eyes of his courtiers and in public opinion. 
 Nowhere was this more evident than when the court 
 assembled in the Grand Gallery of Versailles, where 
 once the Grand Monarque held his reunions called 
 " Appartements." At such times, " a stranger would have 
 found it difficult to recognize the king by any particular 
 attention or any deference paid to him." What, then, 
 must have been the agonized sensations of the perturbed 
 spirit of the superb Louis Quatorze, if ever, to look on 
 his degenerate posterity, he revisited the scene of his 
 
QUEEtf MARIE ANTOINETTE. 345 
 
 former greatness and grandeur, where once he sat en- 
 throned like Jupiter among the inferior gods, and where 
 all around him were but too willing to fall down in the 
 dust at his royal feet, had it been his " bon plaisir" that 
 they should do so ! Ah, those were palmy days for 
 church and state ! 
 
 Brightly dawned the 5th of May, 1789, and Versailles, 
 with its tapestries, its garlands, and its throngs of gayly 
 dressed visitors, wore a festive, smiling air. To many it 
 was indeed a joyous day, a day of hope ; for the king 
 had granted the States General. Such an assemblage 
 France had not witnessed for more than a hundred and 
 fifty }~ears. No wonder, then, it was. looked forward to 
 as the dawn of national liberty. But as the procession 
 winds its way along the vast streets of Versailles, the 
 people see, with pain, how marked are the distinctions of 
 rank and costume which divide their representatives from 
 the nobles and the clergy. To the episcopal purple, the 
 croziers, and grand mantles of the dignitaries of the 
 church succeed the long black robes of the " inferior 
 clergy." Then in all the splendor of velvet and cloth of 
 gold, lace ruffles and cravats, floating plumes and man- 
 tles of state, come the haute noblesse. Then follow the 
 modest Third Estate of the realm ; the absence of finery 
 in their humble garb is atoned for in the eyes of the pop- 
 ulace who receive them with hearty cheers, which they 
 have refused the nobles who have preceded them. One 
 only is generally known. It is the " plebian count" de 
 Mirabeau. The cortege of the princes, who are sur- 
 rounded by courtiers, is allowed to pass in silence. Louis 
 XVI. appears ; as usual, he moves without dignity, sim- 
 ple, in spite of his Cross of St. Louis and his cordon bleu. 
 Marie Antoinette moves with her accustomed majesty, but 
 
346 QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 her face wears an anxious look. Her lips are closely 
 pressed, as if in a vain effort to dissemble her trouble, 
 for not only is her Dauphin, whose birth had been so 
 proudly hailed, at the point of death, but she is this day 
 greeted, not with the old loyal shouts of " Vive la reine!" 
 but with new insulting cries of " Vive & Orleans ! " Mon- 
 sieur le Comte de Provence is grave and pensive, and 
 apparently impressed with the importance of the occasion. 
 He walks with difficulty, owing to his extreme corpulency. 
 The Comte d'Artois shows evident signs of ennui and 
 bad temper, and casts disdainful glances to the right and 
 left upon the crowd that lines the streets, and so, 
 although they little think it, those high-born men and 
 women march onward to their fate. " For although no 
 really hostile sentiments can be said to have then ani- 
 mated that vast throng, nevertheless, alike among those 
 who formed the procession and those who were only its 
 spectators, there was a lurking latent feeling that some- 
 thing strange, something hitherto unknown, coming from 
 the past and pressing on to the future, was moving on- 
 wards towards France." 
 
 It was the revolution to be decreed by the Etdts Gene- 
 raux. On the 23d of June, the king held a seance royale 
 at Versailles. It was attended with all the appareil and 
 state of the "bed of justice" of the old regime. The 
 noblesse had determined, if possible, to crush the Third 
 Estate ; but the king hardly knew how to utter the arro- 
 gant and defiant words which had been put into his mouth. 
 It was the lamb attempting to imitate the roar of the lion. 
 " Je veux, fordonne, je commande " was the burden of 
 the king's speech, which was read by the keeper of the 
 seals, upon his knees. One may imagine how it was re- 
 ceived by the Tiers Etat. 
 
QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 347 
 
 The address closed with the following words : "I com- 
 mand you,, gentlemen, immediately to disperse, and to 
 repair to-morrow morning to the chambers appropriate to 
 your order." 
 
 The king and his attendant court left the hall. The 
 noblesse and the clergy followed him. Exultation beamed 
 upon their faces, for they thought that the Tiers Etat was 
 now effectually crushed. The Commons remained in their 
 seats. The crisis had arrived. There was now no alter- 
 native but resistance or submission, rebellion or servitude. 
 The Marquis de Breze, grand master of ceremonies, per- 
 ceiving that the assembly did not retire, advanced to the 
 centre of the hall, and in a loud, authoritative voice, a 
 voice at whose command nearly fift} T thousand troops 
 were ready to march, demanded, "Did you hear the 
 command of the king ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir," responded Mirabeau, with a glaring eye 
 and a thunder tone ; " we have heard the king's command, 
 and you who have neither seat nor voice in this house are 
 not the one to remind us of his speech. Go, tell those 
 who sent you, that we are here by the power of the peo- 
 ple, and that nothing shall drive us hence but the power 
 of the bayonet." 
 
 And the grand master of ceremonies went out back- 
 wards from the presence of the orator of the people, as it 
 was etiquette to go from the presence of the king. 
 
 The noblesse, in the meantime, were in exultation. They 
 deemed the popular movement effectually crushed, and 
 hastened with their congratulations to the queen. Marie 
 Antoinette was much elated, and presenting to them the 
 Dauphin, she exclaimed, " I intrust him to the nobility." 
 
 The Marquis de Brze now entered the council-chamber, 
 to inform the king that the deputies still continued their 
 
348 QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 sitting, and asked for orders. The king walked impa- 
 tiently once or twice up and down the floor, and then re- 
 plied hastily, "Very well! leave them alone." Louis 
 XIV. would have sent every man of them to the Bastile 
 or the scaffold ; but the days of Louis XIV. were no more. 
 It was the 14th of July, 1789. All Paris was in confu- 
 sion. Mobs ransacked the city in pursuit of arms. Every 
 sword, pistol, and musket from private residences were 
 brought forward. The royal arsenal, containing mainly 
 curiosities and suits of ancient armor, was sacked, and 
 while all the costly objects of interest were left untouched, 
 every available weapon was taken away. But why all 
 this turmoil, terror, and excitement? Out at Versailles 
 was Marshal Broglie, proud and self-confident, in confer- 
 ence with the court, and having at his command fifty 
 thousand troops abundantly armed and equipped, all of 
 whom could in a few hours be concentrated in the streets 
 of Paris. Upon the Champ de Mars, Benseval had as- 
 sembled his force of several thousand Swiss and German 
 troops, cavalry and artillery, and at any moment this 
 combined force might be expected to pour, in the king's 
 name, upon his "good city of Paris," and chastise his 
 rebellious subjects with terrible severity ; while the enor- 
 mous fortress of the Bastile, with its walls forty feet 
 thick at the base and fifteen at the top, rising with its 
 gloomy towers one hundred and twenty feet in the air, 
 with its cannon charged with grapeshot, already run out at 
 every embrasure, commanded the city ; while that remained 
 in the hands of the enemy there was no safety. Could 
 the Bastile be taken? Preposterous! It was as unas- 
 sailable as the rock of Gibraltar. The mob surged around 
 the Hotel de Ville demanding arms and the immediate 
 establishment of a citizen's guard. But arms were not to 
 
QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 349 
 
 be had. It was well known that there were large stores 
 of them somewhere in the city, but no one knew where to 
 find them. What is this? A rumor runs through the 
 crowd : i ' There are arms at the Hotel des Invalides ; 
 muskets, thirty thousand and more ; " and now the dis- 
 cordant cries resolve into one long and steadfast shout, 
 u Les Invalides! Les Invalides!" and in the bright sun- 
 shine of this July morning, upon the esplanade of the 
 Invalides, thirty thousand men stand grim and menacing. 
 But there is no resistance. The gates are thrown open 
 and the mob rush in. They find in the armory thirty 
 thousand muskets and six pieces of cannon ; and now, as 
 by common instinct, resounds the cry, " La Bastile! La 
 Bastile!" The crowds across the Seine take up the 
 shout, while from the Champs Elyse"es, the Tuileries Gar- 
 dens, and the Palais Royal, comes back, as it were, the 
 echo, indistinct at first, but in ever-increasing volume, 
 " La Bastile! La Bastile!" as one hundred thousand 
 men, shouting, swearing, and brandishing their pikes and 
 guns, rush forward, a living torrent, to assail with these 
 feeble means, that fortress par excellence of France, a 
 fortress which the army of Monsieur le Prince, le grand 
 Conde", had besieged in vain for three and twenty days. 
 
 Enormous, massive, blackened with age, the gloomy 
 emblem of royal prerogative, exciting b}^ its mysterious 
 power and menace the terror and execration of every one 
 who passed beneath its shadow ; its eight great towers 
 darkening the air in gloomy grandeur, the world-renowned 
 prison of the Bastile, the fortress par excellence, loomed 
 lofty at the entrance of Paris, in the very heart of the 
 Faubourg St. Antoine. 
 
 De Launey, the governor, from the summit of his tow- 
 ers had, for many hours, heard the roar of the insurgent 
 
350 QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 city ; and now, as he saw the black mass of countless 
 thousands approaching, he turned pale and trembled. M. 
 Thuriot was sent by the electors of the Hotel de Ville to 
 summon the Bastile to surrender. The drawbridge was 
 lowered and he was admitted. De Launey received him 
 at the head of his staff. " I summon you," said Thuriot, 
 44 in the name of the people." But De Launey, who was 
 every moment expecting the arrival of troops from Ver- 
 sailles, refused to surrender the fortress, but added that 
 he would not fire upon the people if they did not fire upon 
 him. Thuriot, perceiving the cannon, and knowing that 
 the governor had received an order from the Hotel de 
 Ville to dismount them, exclaimed : 
 
 44 You have not had the cannon dismounted." 
 44 1 have had them drawn in ; that is all." 
 44 You will not have them dismounted, then?" 
 44 No ! the king's cannon are here by the king's order, 
 sir ; they can only be dismounted by an order from the 
 king." 
 
 44 Monsieur De Launey," said Thuriot, 44 the real king, 
 whom I counsel you to obey, is yonder " ; and he showed 
 to the governor the vast crowd filling the square before 
 the fortress, and whose weapons glittered in the sunshine. 
 44 Sir," replied De Launey haughtily, 44 you may, per- 
 haps acknowledge two kings ; but I, the governor of the 
 Bastile, I know but one, and he is Louis XVI. who 
 has affixed his name to a commission ~by virtue of which I 
 command here both men and things " ; and, stamping his 
 foot, he added angrily: 4 'In the name of the king, sir, 
 leave this place at once." Thuriot withdrew, but he had 
 hardly emerged from the massive portals and crossed the 
 drawbridge of the moat, which was immediately raised 
 behind him, ere the people commenced the attack. Up- 
 
QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 351 
 
 roar and confusion ensued. One hundred thousand men, 
 filling all the streets and alle}'s, all the windows and 
 house-tops of the adjacent buildings, opened upon the 
 Bastile an incessant fire, harmlessly flattening their bul- 
 lets against the massive stone walls. Priests, nobles, 
 wealthy citizens, ragged and emaciate mendicants, men, 
 women, boys, and girls, were mingled in the assault, 
 pressing side by side ; apparently the whole of Paris, 
 with one united will, combined against the great bulwark 
 of tyranny. For five hours the attack continued ; at five 
 in the afternoon, the French soldiers raised a flag of truce 
 upon the towers. This movement plunged De Launey 
 into despair. One hundred thousand men were beleaguer- 
 ing his fortress. The troops from Versailles had not 
 arrived, and three-fourths of his garrison had already 
 abandoned him, and gone over to his assailants. Death 
 was his inevitable doom. Seizing a match he rushed 
 toward the magazine, determined to blow up the citadel. 
 There were one hundred and thirty-five barrels of gun- 
 powder in the vaults. Two subaltern officers crossed 
 their bayonets before him, and the lives of one hundred 
 thousand people were saved. Gradually the flag of truce 
 was seen through the smoke ; the firing ceased, and the 
 cry resounded through the crowd, and was echoed along 
 the streets of Paris, " La Bastile surrenders!" ''The 
 fortress which Louis XIV. and Turenne had pronounced 
 impregnable, surrendered not to the arms of its assailants, 
 for they had produced no impression upon it ; it was con- 
 quered by the public opinion which pervaded Paris, and 
 which vanquished its garrison." While these scenes were 
 transpiring at Paris, Versailles was in excitement. Cou- 
 rier after courier arrived, breathless, announcing that the 
 Bastile was taken, that the troops in Paris refused to firs 
 
352 QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 upon the crowd, that De Launey was slain, and that the 
 cavalry of Lambese were flying before the people. 
 
 No eye was closed at Versailles that night, unless, per- 
 chance, it was that of the king, Louis XVI. ; for all felt 
 the counter-shock of that terrible concussion with which 
 Paris was still trembling. The French guards, the body- 
 guards, and the Swiss, drawn up in platoons and grouped 
 near the openings of all the principal streets, were con- 
 versing among themselves, or with those of the citizens 
 whose fidelity to the monarchy inspired them with confi- 
 dence ; for Versailles has at all times been a royalist city. 
 Religious respect for the monarchy and for the monarch 
 was ingrafted in the hearts of its inhabitants as if it were 
 a quality of its soil. Having always lived near kings, 
 fostered by their bounty, beneath the shade of their won- 
 ders, having always inhaled the intoxicating perfume of 
 the fleur-de-lys, and seen the brilliant gold of the gar- 
 ments, and the smiles upon the august lips of royalty, 
 the inhabitants of Versailles, for whom kings had built 
 a city of marble and porphyry, felt almost kings them- 
 selves ; and, even at the present day, even now, when 
 the splendid palace of Louis Quatorze stands silent 
 in its grandeur ; when no longer the marble court is 
 thronged with gorgeous equipages, and 
 " Up the chestnut alley, all in flower so white and pure, 
 
 Strut the red and yellow lacqueys of the Madame Pompadour; " 
 
 when the vast gardens where once Louis, the Grand 
 Monarque, surrounded by his train of lords and ladies, 
 moved majestic, "monarch of all he surveyed and of all 
 who surveyed him," are silent and deserted ; even now, 
 Versailles must either belie its origin, or, considering 
 itself as a fragment of the fallen monarchy, and no longer 
 feeling the pride of power and wealth, must at least re- 
 
QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 353 
 
 tain the poetical associations of regret and the sovereign 
 charms of melancholy. By his answer to the Marquis de 
 Bre'ze, Mirabeau had struck the very face of royalty. 
 
 By the taking of the Bastile, the people had struck it 
 to the heart, paralyzed its nerves of action, and given it 
 a death-blow. "But the monarch of France, from his 
 palace at Versailles, heard the thunders of the distant 
 cannonade, and yet inscribed upon his puerile journal, 
 'Nothing!'" 
 
 "Whom the gods would destro}' they first make mad ;" 
 and the adage applies fitly to the French court during the 
 six months preceding the overthrow. Never had the 
 nobles been so haughty and domineering. Never had 
 they looked upon the people with such supreme contempt. 
 Their arrogance passed all bounds. Even Marie An- 
 toinette exclaimed in terror, "This noblesse will ruin us ! " 
 
 The Flanders regiment had been stationed at Ver- 
 sailles ; and on the 1st of October a banquet was given 
 to the officers at the palace. Wine was liberally supplied 
 from the royal cellars, and was so liberally partaken of 
 that the banquet became a scene of riot and disorder. 
 The revolutionary movement was cursed intensely, and 
 the national cockade trampled under foot. The tidings 
 of this fete spread rapidly through Paris, exciting great 
 indignation. The court was feasting ; the people starv- 
 ing. Versailles was filled with rejoicing ; Paris with 
 mourning. 
 
 The morning of the 5th of October dawns dark, cold, 
 and dreary. The people of Paris are starving. About a 
 baker's shop is a crowd of women and children, crying 
 for bread. Bread is not to be had. " A Versailles, 
 bonnes femmes /" cries a man passing by. "A Versailles! 
 there is bread enough there, and to spare. A Versailles! 
 
354 QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 the land of plenty, feasting, and revelry! A Versailles!" 
 A young girl seizes a drum, and cries aloud, "Bread! 
 bread ! " 
 
 Soon a mob is collected ; three or four hundred women 
 presently increased to as many thousands. They follow 
 their leader, echoing her cn r , "Bread! bread!" On to 
 the H6tel de Ville they rush. But there is no bread 
 there; and their cry is now, "A Versailles! A Ver- 
 sailles!" "We will give the men," they exclaim, "a 
 lesson in courage. If they cannot support and protect 
 us, we will do it for ourselves." 
 
 And so along beside the Tuileries, and through the 
 Etysian Fields, rushes on this mighty mass, headlong 
 towards Versailles. Couriers have been sent forward to 
 warn the king and queen of the approaching peril. His 
 Majesty, King Louis XVI., for want of something better 
 to do, has gone to chase hares at Meudon. He is sent 
 for, post haste, and returns to Versailles. "About 
 seven hundred gentlemen were then in the palace, all 
 in full dress, chapeau sous le bras, and armed only 
 with dress swords. Some few had found pistols ; and 
 in that unmilitary fashion they declared themselves 
 determined to defend the chateau if attacked." 
 
 Five minutes after the king's return, the women ar- 
 rived, singing, " Vive Henri IV. !" and more like furies 
 than suppliants. All the shops were instantly closed ; 
 drums beat to arms, the tocsin sounded, and the troops 
 were drawn up on the Place d'Armes. Entrance to the 
 courts of the palace was refused ; but finally the women 
 sent a deputation of fifteen to the king. He received 
 them very graciously, and promised what they desired, 
 so that they came out of the palace shouting, " Vive le 
 roi ! " and praising the goodness of the king to such an 
 
QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 355 
 
 extent that their fellow- Amazons, in rage, would have 
 strung them to the nearest lamp-posts had not the sol- 
 diers interfered. 
 
 At nine o'clock, news was brought that General de La- 
 fayette, at the head of the National Guards and the 
 Gardes Franqaise, and followed by a crowd of the 
 Parisian people, was on his way to Versailles. M. de 
 Saint- Priest immediately sought the king, and urged him 
 to leave the palace before their arrival. "The road is 
 open," he said; "a picket of the household troops is at 
 the gate of the Orangey, and your Majesty, on horse- 
 back, at the head of an escort, can freely pass whither- 
 soever you wish." 
 
 Poor Louis ! He would wait the course of events ; not 
 from courage to face whatever might happen, but from 
 want of resolution to depart. Rightly had the queen 
 called him " le pauvre homme" In this hour of menac- 
 ing danger she found no protector in her poor, miserably 
 weak husband and king. But she needed none ; for 
 u she alone, among all women and all men, wore a face 
 of courage, of lofty calmness and resolve this day. She 
 alone saw clearly what she meant to do ; and Theresa's 
 daughter dares do what she means, were all France threat- 
 ening her : abide where her children are, where her hus- 
 band is." 
 
 Near midnight Lafayette arrived at the chateau, pale 
 as death, wet through, and splashed with mud. He had 
 ridden hard and fast in advance of his troops, that he 
 might check any alarm felt by the royal family at the 
 sudden incursion of the mixed multitudes of National 
 Guards, Gardes Francaise, and volunteers of all sorts, 
 whom he had unwillingly been made to lead. Assuming 
 the guarding of the chateau, he prevailed upon the queen 
 
356 QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 and her ladies to retire to their apartments and seek 
 sleep without fear. 
 
 Gradual!}' quiet was restored, and tired, tempest-tossed 
 Versailles lay down to rest. Alas, for peaceful dreams ! 
 All know the story of that dreadful night. How the mob, 
 prowling round the palace, found a door unguarded ; how 
 they rushed in, and, pressing blindly on, came to the 
 queen's door; how they fought; how the good guard who 
 defended it poured out their life-blood upon the marble 
 floor ; how the queen had barely time to escape through 
 the (Eil de Boeuf, when the howling mob rushed in, and 
 stabbed her bed, again and again, with bloody pikes and 
 swords ; and how at last the guards of Lafayette 
 arrived and drove them from the palace. It was a night 
 of horror. The queen was saved ; but better for Marie 
 Antoinette would it have been, if in that short agony she 
 could have died. It was not to be. A mysterious Provi- 
 dence reserved her, after years of unutterable suffering, 
 for a death more awful. 
 
 The morning of the 6th was now dawning, and the 
 whole multitude, swarming around the palace, demanded 
 as with one voice that the king should go to Paris. As 
 he could not very well do otherwise, the king decided to 
 comply. Loud shouts now rose of " Vive le roi!" But 
 threatening voices were raised against the queen ; " A 
 bas T Autrichienne ! " "A bas V Autricliienne ! " they cried. 
 
 "Madame," said Lafayette, "the king goes to Paris; 
 what will you do ? " 
 
 " Accompany the king," replied Marie Antoinette. 
 
 " Come with me, then," rejoined the general. He led 
 the queen upon the balcony, from whence she looked upon 
 the multitude, agitated like the ocean in a storm. Proudly 
 she stood, a true daughter of her imperial mother, Maria 
 
QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 357 
 
 Theresa, and calmly she gazed upon the mighty throng, 
 The murmurs of the crowd were hushed. At the sight of 
 this fearless woman standing thus exposed to all their 
 fury, those who would have torn in pieces the daughter of 
 the Caesars were compelled to render homage. Lafay- 
 ette, bending, took her hand and kissed it, while the mar- 
 ble court resounded with the shouts of " Vive la reine! " 
 
 A little after noon the royal family entered their car- 
 riage, and slowly the melancholy cortege set out foi 
 Paris. 
 
 As they passed through the gates of Versailles, the 
 queen glanced backward for a moment upon that splendid 
 palace, the scene of so much happiness and grandeur, 
 which she was to see no more. And the carriage rolled 
 on, bearing its occupants to a dungeon and the scaffold. 
 Adieu to Versailles ! Royalty was vanquished ; and 
 Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette at the Tuileries were 
 but the captive slaves of their subjects. 
 
 Months rolled by, months of insult and humiliation, 
 until even the king was aroused, and seriously contem- 
 plated flight ; that, escaping from the scenes of violence 
 and danger to which he was exposed in Paris, he might 
 draw around him his loyal subjects upon the frontiers of 
 France, and there endeavor amicably to adjust the diffi- 
 culties which desolated the kingdom. 
 
 Gabriel Honore de Mirabeau, the son of thunder, was 
 the mightiest and most terrible product of the Revolution. 
 He was the ugliest man and the grandest orator in chaotic 
 France. He swayed the multitude ; and it seemed, as 
 he himself believed, that if he would, he, and he only, 
 might yet save the monarch}^. 
 
 It was at St. Cloud that Marie Antoinette held her 
 famous interview with Mirabeau. As she felt the spell of 
 
358 QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 his genius, so he rendered homage to her majesty. The 
 interview lasted an hour, and Mirabeau closed it with the 
 words: ''Madame, when the empress, your mother, 
 admitted one of her subjects to the honor of her presence, 
 she did not take leave of him without allowing him to 
 kiss her hand." Marie Antoinette held out her hand. 
 '" Madame," exclaimed Mirabeau, u the monarchy is 
 saved ! " But opportunity was not given him to keep or 
 break his pledge. Under the sweet April sunshine of 1 791, 
 Mirabeau breathed his last. His death paralyzed the hopes 
 of the king, and he now resolved to spare no endeavors 
 to secure his escape ; and so in the darkness of midnight, 
 on the 20th of June, 1791, the king, the queen, Madame 
 Elizabeth, the two royal children, and Madame Tourzel. 
 their governess, escaped silently from the palace of 
 Tuileries, and entering their carriages, which stood ready, 
 drove rapidly away. Alas for fond hopes ! Through 
 the king's want of caution, the royal family were recog- 
 nized at Varennes, arrested, and brought back to Paris. 
 Ah, the humiliations of that long and weary, crowd- 
 encompassed, dust-enveloped journey back to Paris ! 
 Threats, imprecations, and torrents of abuse were hurled 
 upon the royal f amity from all sides. More than this they 
 could not do, for a forest of glittering bayonets surrounded 
 the royal carriage. It was by the glaring light of the torches 
 that the sorrowful cortege entered Paris, and under a can- 
 opy of glistening steel the royal family ascended once more 
 the marble staircase of the Tuileries Palace. 
 
 A year has rolled away. The 20th of June, 1792, has 
 passed, that day of horrors on which the mob, with 
 shouts of " Vive la nation!" broke into and rushed 
 through the palace of the Tuileries ; that day on which 
 the queen was exposed for hours to insults, abuses, and 
 
QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 359 
 
 derisive jests ; that day on which the king was made to 
 place upon his royal brow the red cap of the Jacobins, 
 while the mob, exulting in their victory, cried loudly : 
 " Vive le roi ! " Poor Louis ! As he entered the apartment 
 of the queen, after the rabble had been cleared from the 
 palace, he saw, in the reflection of a mirror, the bonnet 
 rouge upon his head, and flinging it upon the ground, he 
 turned to the queen, exclaiming, with a burst of tears : 
 " Ah ! madame, it was not to see me thus insulted that I 
 brought you from Vienna." 
 
 How different were the days when the boy and girl met 
 on that bright spring morning at Compiegne, and hunted, 
 danced, quarrelled, and kissed again, in the old, luxurious 
 times at Versailles and Marly, Fontainebleau and Choisy- 
 le-Roi ! 
 
 The 10th of August has arrived. The streets are 
 swarming with a frenzied multitude. All Paris is march- 
 ing toward the Tuileries, for the mob have declared that 
 unless the dethronement of the king is procured, they will 
 sack the palace. The peal of bells, the clangor of drums, 
 the rumbling of artillery wheels, and the shouts of the 
 advancing bands fill the air. 
 
 From every direction, east, west, north and south, the 
 portentous booming of the tocsin is heard, and the infuri- 
 ated insurgents, in numbers which cannot be counted, 
 through all the streets and avenues are pouring toward 
 the palace. 
 
 The spectacle aroused the energies of Marie Antoinette, 
 and as she entered the apartment where her lt pauvre 
 Jwmme " stood bewildered and submissive to his lot, she 
 approached a grenadier, and drawing a pistol from his 
 belt, presented it to the king, exclaiming, "Now, sire, 
 now is the time to show yourself a king ! " 
 
360 QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 But there was nothing imperial in the nature of Louis 
 XVI. With a passive meekness, which it is difficult to 
 understand, he took the pistol and quietly handed it back 
 to the grenadier. 
 
 It was five o'clock of one of the most brilliant of sum- 
 mer mornings as the king, followed by the queen, and ac- 
 companied by six staff officers, descended the marble 
 stairs and entered the courtyard to review the troops and 
 ascertain the spirit with which they were animated. The 
 music of martial bands greeted him, the polished weapons 
 of the soldiers glittered in the sun as they presented arms, 
 and a few voices rather languidly shouted : " Vive le roi I " 
 Others, however, shouted defiantly: " Vive la nation!" 
 thus showing that many of those who were marshalled 
 for his defence were ready to unite with his assailants. 
 Had the king been a spirited man, in uniform, mounted on 
 horseback, he would have roused their enthusiasm, for the 
 French have always loved the vrai chevalier. But fat, 
 awkward Louis was well calculated to excite no other emo- 
 tion than that of compassion blended with contempt. 
 
 4 'The appearance of the queen in this terrible hour 
 riveted every eye, and excited even the enthusiasm of 
 her foes. Her flushed cheek, dilated nostril, compressed 
 lip, and flashing eye invested her with an imperial beauty 
 almost more than human. Her head was erect, her car- 
 riage proud, her step dignified, and she looked around her 
 upon applauding friends and assailing foes with a majesty 
 of courage which touched every heart. Even the most 
 ardent patriots forgot, for the moment, their de-votion to 
 liberty, in the enthusiasm excited by the heroism of the 
 queen." 
 
 On entering the palace Marie Antoinette exclaimed in 
 despair, " All is lost! The king has shown no energy. 
 A review like this has done us more harm than good." 
 
QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 361 
 
 The king had now passed into the garden to ascertain 
 the disposition of the troops stationed there. With his 
 small retinue he traversed the whole length of the line. 
 Some of the battalions received him with applause, others 
 were silent, while here and there voices, in continually 
 increasing numbers, cried, " A bas le veto! & bas le 
 tyran!" As the king turned to retrace his steps, men- 
 aces and insults were multiplied. Some of the gunners 
 even left their places and thrust their fists in his face, 
 assailing him with the most brutal abuse. The clamor 
 penetrated to the interior of the palace, and the queen, 
 turning pale as death, sank into a chair, exclaiming, 
 "Great God! they are hooting the king. We are all 
 lost." The king returned to the palace, pale, exhausted, 
 perspiring at every pore, and overwhelmed with shame 
 and confusion. He retired to his cabinet. M. Roederer, 
 chief magistrate of the Department of the Seine, entered 
 immediately. 
 
 "Sire," said he, "you have not a moment to lose. 
 Neither the number nor the disposition of the men here 
 assembled can guarantee your life nor the lives of your 
 family. There is no safety for you but in the National 
 Assembly." Such a refuge to the high-spirited queen 
 was more dreadful than death. It was draining the cup 
 of humiliation to the dregs. 
 
 "Go to the Assembly ! " exclaimed Marie Antoinette ; 
 "never! never will I take refuge there. Rather than 
 submit to such infamy, I would prefer to be nailed to the 
 walls of the palace." 
 
 "It is there only," replied M. Roederer, "that the 
 royal family can be in safety, and it is necessary to 
 escape immediately. In another quarter of an hour, 
 perhaps, I shall not be able to command a retreat." 
 
362 QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 "What!" rejoined the queen, "have we then no de- 
 fenders ? Are we alone ? " 
 
 "Yes, madam, " M. Roederer replied, "we are alone. 
 The troops in the garden and in the court are fraternizing 
 with your assailants, and turning their guns against the 
 palace. All Paris is on the march. Action is useless ; 
 resistance impossible." 
 
 A gentleman present, who had been active in pro- 
 moting reform, ventured to add his voice in favor of an 
 immediate retreat to the Assembly. The queen turned 
 upon him sternly, exclaiming: "Silence, sir, silence! It 
 becomes you to be silent here. When the mischief is 
 done, those who did it should not pretend to wish to rem- 
 edy it." 
 
 M. Roederer resumed, saying : " Madam, you endanger 
 the lives of your husband and your children. Think of 
 the responsibility which you take upon yourself ! " The 
 queen cast a glance upon her daughter, and a mother's 
 fears prevailed. The crimson blood mounted to her tem- 
 ples. Rising from her seat, she said proudly, " Let 
 us go." 
 
 A guard of soldiers was instantly called in, and the 
 royal family descended the stairs, entered the garden, and 
 crossed it unopposed. The leaves of autumn strewed the 
 paths, and the young Dauphin kicked them before him as 
 he walked along. It is characteristic of the weak mental 
 qualities of the king, that in such an hour he should have 
 remarked, "There are a great many leaves. They fall 
 early this }'ear." Some writers have found in this ex- 
 pression the evidence of a deep and solemn mind reflect- 
 ing upon the calamities which had fallen upon France. 
 Reflections ! What had Louis XVI. to do with reflections 
 at a time like this? His affairs demanded actions, not 
 reflections. 
 
QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 363 
 
 At the hall of the Assembly they found an immense 
 crowd blocking up the entrance. "They shall not enter 
 here," was the cry; "they shall no longer deceive the 
 nation. They are the cause of all our misfortunes. A 
 bas le veto! & bas V Autricliienne ! Abdication ou mort!" 
 But the soldiers forced their way through, and the royal 
 family entered the Assembly. The king approached the 
 president. " I have come hither," he said, "to prevent 
 a great crime. I thought I could not be safer than with 
 you." 
 
 "You may rely, sire," the president replied, "on the 
 firmness of the Assembly." 
 
 But few of the excited thousands who crowded all the 
 approaches to the Tuileries were conscious that the royal 
 family had escaped from the palace. The clamor rapidly 
 increased to a scene of terrific uproar. The vollej's of 
 musketry, the deep booming of artillery, the cries of fury, 
 and the shrieks of the wounded and dying filled the air. 
 
 The hall of the Assembly was already crowded to suf- 
 focation, and the deputies stood powerless and appalled, 
 for all now felt that a storm was beating against the 
 throne which no human power could allay. Suddenly the 
 king beckoned to an attendant, and spoke a few words to 
 him in an undertone. The man started to leave the hall, 
 but the terror-stricken deputies crowded around him. 
 
 "What has the king said?" they anxiously inquired ; 
 "what new order has he given? Quick! quick! speak 
 out ! " 
 
 "Why! my friends," replied the messenger, laughing, 
 4 ' do you not know that you are dealing with a Bourbon ? 
 The king has simply ordered his dinner." 
 
 And so in the midst of the National Assembly, while 
 outside a raging, howling mob was storming his palace of 
 
364' QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 the Tuileries, and his good Swiss guard were pouring out 
 their life-blood upon the marble stairs, and while the 
 throne of his ancestors hung tottering in the balance, 
 King Louis munched his bread and drank his wine. 
 Thus low had fallen the descendant of the Grand Mon- 
 arque. 
 
 The king munched on ; the mob took and sacked the 
 palace ; thousands lay dead in the Place du Carrousel, 
 around the Tuileries, and in the Champs Elyse"es. The 
 throne was demolished, and the last vestiges of the old 
 court regime and the monarchy of the superb Louis 
 Quatorze disappeared forever. 
 
 And now followed those long months of imprisonment 
 in the Temple, months of unutterable suffering, while 
 the king was on trial for his life. And then that sorrow- 
 ful night of the 20th of January, when for the last time 
 the king was permitted to behold his family. Ah ! what 
 prayers, what groans, what tears were heard and seen 
 that night. Then came that awful morning of the 21st 
 of January, 1793, and while the king was suffering upon 
 the guillotine, the queen, with Madame Elizabeth and the 
 children, remained in their prison, in the endurance. of 
 anguish as severe as could be laid on human hearts. As 
 the deep booming of the artillery announced that the 
 fatal axe had fallen, poor Marie Antoinette swooned 
 dead away. 
 
 But haste we on to the last act of the dreadful tragedy. 
 
 On the 2d of August, 1793, Marie Antoinette Jeanne 
 Josephe de Lorraine, Queen of France and Navarre, 
 and Archduchess of Austria, the once brilliant sovereign 
 of Versailles, now a prisoner and a widow, torn from her 
 children and treated like a common felon, was removed 
 from the prison of the Temple to that of the Conciergerie, 
 
QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 365 
 
 there to linger until her release from human barbarity on 
 the 16th of October. In one of the vast halls of this edi- 
 fice, when occupied by the Parliament, Louis XIV. had 
 entered during a sitting, booted and spurred, and declared 
 that he was the state. " It was a strange fate that this 
 building, once the dwelling-place of the sovereigns of the 
 House of Capet, when holding their state in the capital, 
 should see a captive within its walls, the widow of their 
 descendant, the ' widow Capet,' as the Jacobins de- 
 scribed her in their blood-stained edicts." The damp, 
 foul dungeons were the most gloomy tombs imagination 
 can conceive. Down the dripping and slimy steps the 
 queen was led by the light of a tallow candle, until, 
 through a lab} T rinth of corridors, she approached her iron 
 door. The rusty hinges grated as the door was opened, 
 and entering, she struck her forehead against the low beam. 
 
 " Did you hurt yourself? " inquired the gendarme. 
 
 " No, nothing can further harm me." Poor Marie 
 Antoinette ! 
 
 "The candle gave just light enough to reveal the 
 horrors of her cell. The floor was covered with mud, and 
 streams of water trickled down the stone walls. A miser- 
 able pallet, with a dirty covering of coarse and tattered 
 cloth, a small pine table, and a chair, constituted the only 
 furniture." So deep was the fall from the salons of Ver- 
 sailles ! 
 
 Here for two long, weary months the poor queen lin- 
 gered ; her misery being slightly alleviated by the kind- 
 heartedness of Madame Richard, the wife of the jailer, 
 and Rosalie Lamorliere, an inmate of the prison, who did 
 all the rigorous rules allowed them to mitigate her woes. 
 "The night of her arrival at the Conciergerie the queen 
 had not so much as a change of linen. For days she 
 
366 QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 begged to be allowed some, but it was not till the tenth 
 day that her prayer was granted, when Michonis went to 
 the Temple and brought back with him a parcel of linen 
 and some clothes ; among others, the white gown which 
 the queen wore on the day of her execution. Little by 
 little everything was taken from the queen. The souve- 
 nirs of her happy past, to which she clung, were taken 
 from her ; first her watch, a gift of her mother's, and 
 which had never left her since she left Vienna, the 
 watch which had counted the happy hours of her youth 
 and womanhood was taken from her. Bitterly she wept 
 at having to part with it, as if it had been a friend. 
 There was not a moment that the queen could be out of 
 sight of her gens d'armes; a little screen, four feet high, 
 was the only separation between the space in which she 
 changed her dress and those men." Imagine the misery 
 of this state for a woman so delicately nurtured, so luxu- 
 riously brought up, having at her command a household 
 of over four hundred persons, and accustomed to the re- 
 finements of the most polished court in Europe. 
 
 In the old daj*s of splendor at Versailles, when her at- 
 tendants were unable to find some article of dress or 
 toilet, she had exclaimed pettishly: " How terrible it is 
 not to be able to find what one wants ! " But now, in 
 these last days of her life, when surrounded by every 
 aggravation that could wound a proud spirit, treated like 
 the worst of offenders, insulted as mother, wife, queen, 
 and woman, she never uttered one word that could be 
 construed into petulance, or gave one angry look. 
 
 "With threads taken from her bedding, she worked a 
 kind of garter, and not being allowed any knitting-needles, 
 used a pair of toothpicks. When finished, she dropped 
 it, with a significant look, when her jailer entered the 
 
QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 367 
 
 prison. It reached thanks to one of her loyalest fol- 
 lowers, M. Hue, a faithful servant of Louis XVI. 
 its destination, for he gave it to Madame Kxjyale when he 
 accompanied her, two years later, to Vienna." This was 
 the richest legacy the daughter of Maria Theresa and the 
 queen of France could bequeath to her child. The queen 
 was not so fortunate with another little relic that she 
 hoped her daughter would receive. This consisted of a 
 pair of gloves and a lock of her hair, which she slipped 
 into the jailer's hand ; but the action was observed by 
 one of the gens d'armes, and the little parcel was confis- 
 cated. " The damp of the queen's underground prison 
 was such that her black gown began to fall into rags. 
 She had another, a white one ; but this she wore only on 
 the day of her death. 
 
 ' ' The few other clothes she had were in a deplorable 
 state, and required constant repair. She was only per- 
 mitted three shirts, but the revolutionary tribunal de- 
 cided that but one of these should be given to the queen, 
 and worn ten days before another was allowed her ; even 
 her handkerchiefs were only allowed one by one, and a 
 strict account was kept of every article as it came from 
 or entered her prison." Not being allowed a chest of 
 drawers she placed her clothes in a paper box that Rosa- 
 lie brought her, " and which she received," says Rosalie, 
 1 ' as if it had been the most beautiful piece of furniture in 
 the world." Rosalie also procured her a little looking- 
 glass, bordered with red, with little Chinese figures 
 painted on the sides. This too seemed much to please 
 the queen ; and doubtless it gave her more satisfaction 
 than had done all the miles of gorgeous, gilded mirrors at 
 Versailles. 
 
 And now the 14th of October has come, and Marie 
 
368 QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 Antoinette is summoned to appear before her judges. 
 There are wretches present who cry as she enters, l ' A 
 bas I' Autrichienne ! " Yet even the fear of the guillotine 
 is not able to check the visible signs of pity and deep-felt 
 sympathy her appearance elicits in others. 
 
 How startlingly the sorrowful present contrasts with 
 the gay and brilliant past, when, in her bridal dress of 
 satin, pearls, and diamonds, the Due de Cosse-Brissac led 
 her to the balcony of the Tuileries to gratify the eager 
 desire of the dense multitude to see her, and bade her 
 behold in them two hundred thousand adorers, while 
 shouts of " Vive la Dauphine!" rent the air. Marie 
 Antoinette was then a youthful bride. Twenty-three 
 years have passed awa} T , and she is now a widow. In a 
 faded black dress, she stands in the theatre of that, same 
 palace of the Tuileries, amidst a throng of canaille, to be 
 tried for her life by men whose own lives would be the 
 forfeit, if either compassion or justice should move them 
 to find her innocent. Alas ! the daughter of the Caesars, 
 she whom Edmund Burke had seen, " glittering like the 
 morning star, full of life, and splendor, and joy," is 
 hurled low indeed. And yet, to me, as she stands there 
 in her frayed and patched black gown, with her widow's 
 cap upon her almost white hair, before her judges, and 
 her jury, and the crowded tribunes, Marie Antoinette is 
 a far nobler, far grander figure, than when a blooming 
 bride she stood upon the Tuileries balcony, surrounded by 
 the acclamations of the multitude, or when, as queen of 
 France, blazing with diamonds, and in all the pomp and 
 splendor of regality, she received the homage of her 
 courtiers in the gilded galleries of Versailles. 
 
 The tribunal which judged the queen was composed of 
 a president and four judges, the public prosecutor, Fou- 
 
QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 369 
 
 quier-Tinville, a man who even at that time was noto- 
 rious as being amongst the most inhuman of the monsters 
 who then governed revolutionary France, the chief 
 registrar, and fifteen jurymen. Fouquier-Tinville had 
 himself drawn out at great length the act of accusation. 
 He looked upon it as his chef d'oeuvre, and Chauveau-La- 
 garde, the queen's counsel, did not exaggerate when he 
 called it a " work of the devil." In it the queen was com- 
 pared to Messalina, Brunehild, Fre"de"gond, and the 
 Medici. He declared that " since her arrival in France 
 she had been the curse and leech of the French nation ; 
 that she had maintained a secret correspondence with the 
 king of Bohemia and Hungary ; that her aim was the 
 ruin of the country ; that by her instigation, and in con- 
 cert with the brothers of Louis XVI. and the infamous 
 Calonne, formerly minister of finance, she had lavished 
 the wealth of the nation, the spoils of the sweat of the 
 people, in maintaining her criminal expenditure and in 
 paying the agents of her treasonable intrigues ; that she 
 had sent millions out of the country to the emperor, in 
 order to maintain the war against the republic, and that 
 she had thus exhausted the revenues of the country. 
 Further, that since the commencement of the Revolution 
 she had not ceased an instant from maintaining a treason- 
 able correspondence with the enemy, and, by every 
 means in her power, aided and abetted a counter revolu- 
 tion." He then went back and harped, at great length, 
 upon the affair of the Gardes du Corps at Versailles in 
 1789, and also on the flight to Varennes ; accused her of 
 the loss of life on the 17th of July, 1792, at the Champs 
 de Mars, and declared that owing to her, and her alone, 
 the massacre occurred at Nancy and elsewhere. "Thus 
 this man raved on in an endless series of accusations, 
 
370 QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 which seem more as if they came from the disordered 
 brain of a homicidal maniac than from a man in his 
 senses." 
 
 Indeed, one can only believe that some of the writ- 
 ings and actions of the actors in the year of terror, 1793, 
 were owing to a state of madness. It is said, and on 
 good authority, that Fouquier-Tinville ultimately con- 
 fessed to being pursued by horrible visions, saying that 
 he saw the spirits of those he had condemned to death 
 menacing him, not in his dreams, like Richard III., but 
 in broad daylight. And well he might ; for between the 
 10th of March, 1793, and the 27th of July of the follow^ 
 ing year, two thousand six hundred and sixty-nine victims 
 were sent from that tribunal to the guillotine. 
 
 Then followed the second day. " What is your name?" 
 inquired one of the judges. 
 
 "Marie Antoinette de Lorraine d'Autriche," answered 
 the queen. 
 
 " What is your condition?" was the next question. 
 
 44 Widow of Louis, king of France." 
 
 "What is your age?" 
 
 "Thirty-eight." 
 
 The act of accusation was then read, and the witnesses 
 appeared. Of these there were forty-one, men of all 
 sorts and conditions of life, and who were ready to swear 
 anything, however improbable,' however atrocious, against 
 the queen. All through the long hours of that awful day 
 the different witnesses were questioned and cross-ques- 
 tioned. She saw again faces familiar to her in past 
 years, faces that must have recalled Versailles and the 
 Trianon ; and with what feelings of horror must she have 
 recognized Simon, her son's jailer and persecutor, among 
 that crowd of witnesses ! When the charges relative to 
 
QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 371 
 
 the queen's treatment of her son were again alluded to^ 
 the queen deigned no reply. Seeing this, one of the 
 jurors called the attention of the president to her silence. 
 One can imagine what a hush must at that moment have 
 fallen on that great crowd, eager to hear what the queen 
 would answer to such an infamy. But Marie Antoinette 
 was equal, aye, more than equal, to the occasion. She 
 rose proudly from her chair, and in a majestic voice 
 exclaimed : " If I have not answered, it is because nature 
 herself refuses to answer such an accusation made to a 
 mother. I appeal to all that may be present." 
 
 u A thrill ran through that vast hall a thrill that has 
 not ceased to be felt by all who can enter into what the 
 feelings of that mother were at such a moment. No won- 
 der that when Robespierre heard what a sensation had 
 been made by the sublime manner in which the queen had 
 met that charge, and the effect it had upon the audience, 
 he, being then at dinner, should have broken his plate 
 with rage, and cursed the folly of Fouquier-Tinville in 
 preferring it." At last all was over, and the queen was 
 asked if she had anything to say. " I was a queen, and 
 you took away my crown ; a wife, and you killed my 
 husband ; a mother, and you deprived me of my children. 
 My blood alone remains. Take it, but do not make me 
 suffer long." Then in the dignity of silence, and without 
 the moving of a muscle, she listened to the sentence con- 
 demning her to die. It was ten minutes past four in the 
 morning of the 16th of October. The queen had, with 
 hardly an interval, endured this trial more than twenty 
 hours. u Rising from her seat, she walked away calmly 
 and serenely, leaving her judges, or rather murderers, 
 without one look of reproach or shade of anger. But on 
 nearing the portion of the hall where, beyond the barriers, 
 
372 QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 the rnob was collected, she raised somewhat her noble 
 head. A great French painter has left a picture of this 
 scene. The queen faces the spectator, as she walks along 
 the side of the barriers, above which the crowd are eagerly 
 scanning her ; behind follow the gens d'armes with shoul- 
 dered muskets ; be}*ond, under the dim light of a lamp, 
 appear the faces of the judges, a lurid background. 
 Delaroche has- introduced the thin, handsome face of a 
 youth who seems to feel the iniquity of the transaction 
 keenly : we recognize the features of Bonaparte. Next 
 to the almost angelic sublimity of the figure of the queen, 
 the most touching thing in the picture is the face of a 
 young girl, who gazes, with a look of ineffable pity, 
 through her tears, at the queen as she walks by." 
 
 Truly writes Sainte-Beuve. "I do not believe," he 
 says, " that a monument of more atrocious stupidity, of 
 greater ignominy for our species, can exist, than this trial 
 of Marie Antoinette. When one reflects that a century 
 which considered itself enlightened and of the most refined 
 civilization, ends with public acts of such barbarity, one 
 begins to doubt of human nature itself, and to fear that 
 the brute, which is always in human nature, has the 
 ascendency." 
 
 All Paris was under arms on this morning of the 16th 
 of October. The roll of the drum was heard through all 
 the sections ; thirty thousand troops lined the streets 
 along which lay the route of the queen's passage. The 
 bridges were guarded with cannon, by which stood the 
 gunners with lighted matches. Artillery was placed also 
 upon the squares and points of junction. At ten o'clock 
 no carriage was allowed in any of the streets that lie 
 between the Conciergerie and the Place de la Revolution. 
 All Paris was patrolled, and all this martial pomp, which 
 
QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 873 
 
 sounds as though the army of the enemy were at the very 
 gates of Paris, had been brought out to see a woman die ! 
 
 Before the Conciergerie, before those beautiful iron 
 gates on which the ro} T al arms of France and the golden 
 lilies are conspicuous, the crowd was thickest ; every win- 
 dow had its groups of spectators, every housetop had its 
 crowd of people. 
 
 There stands the wretched open cart, with its single 
 horse, its plank the only seat. There is a stir among the 
 crowd, and the queen ascends the prison steps. On seeing 
 the cart, she makes an involuntary pause. It is but an 
 instant. Then, with proud step and undaunted mien, 
 Marie Antoinette advances. A moment more, and she is 
 seated in the cart. Sanson takes his place behind her. 
 
 Both he and his assistant have their three-cornered 
 hats under their arms. " On that occasion the only peo- 
 ple who behaved with decency were the executioners." 
 
 Slowly the cart winds its way through the Rue Saint- 
 Honor6. The rabble yell, shout, and mouth at her, while 
 for the last time falls on her ear that hateful cry, "A 
 bas I' Autrichienne ! d, bas I' Autrichienne ! " 
 
 Yet as much a queen is she, this silent white-robed 
 figure, so simple, yet so grand in its forlornness, as 
 when in her gilded coach, surrounded by a brilliant body- 
 guard of cavalry, she swept through the Avenue des 
 Champs Elyses, to the echoing shouts of u Vive la 
 reine I " 
 
 " You all know the Place de la Concorde, 
 
 'Tis hard by the Tuileries' wall. 
 'Mid terraces, fountains, and statues, 
 There rises an obelisk tall." 
 
 Ah ! what a sight was this mighty Place de la Concorde, 
 then the Place de la Revolution, on that bright Octo- 
 
374 QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 ber morning, filled with a vast and silent throng, while 
 the splendid palace and gardens of the Tuileries, where 
 so often the queen had been hailed with acclamations, 
 the spacious Elysian Fields, the pride of Paris, were all 
 spread around, as if in mockery of the sacrifice which was 
 there to be offered ; and in the centre, sublime in its terri- 
 fic grandeur, towered the blood-red posts of the guillotine. 
 Slowly the cart made its way between the noble buildings 
 of the " Garde Meuble" and the Admiralty, and finally 
 reached the foot of the scaffold. 
 
 As the queen mounted the slippery steps, she trod upon 
 the foot of the executioner. " Pardon me," said Marie 
 Antoinette, with as much courtesy as if she were address- 
 ing a grand seigneur in the palace of Versailles. Kneel- 
 ing, she uttered a brief prayer, and then turning her eyes 
 to the distant towers of the Temple, exclaimed, " Adieu, 
 my children ; I go to rejoin your father." 
 
 She was bound to the plank. The gleaming axe slid 
 through the groove, and the long and dreadful tragedy of 
 the life of Marie Antoinette was closed. 
 
 That night, upon the records of the cemetery of the 
 Madeline, was made this entry : 
 
 " For the coffin of the Widow Capet, six livres." 
 
 " The Revolution," says De Tocqueville, " will ever 
 remain in darkness to those who do not look beyond it. 
 It can only be comprehended by the light of the ages 
 which preceded it. Without a clear view of society in the 
 olden time, of its laws, its faults, its prejudices, its suf- 
 ferings, and its greatness, it is impossible to understand 
 the conduct of the French during the sixty years which 
 have, followed its fall." 
 
 If absolute power could ever be fitly confided to mortal 
 man, where could nobler depositaries of that high trust 
 
QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 375 
 
 have been found than in the succession of great men who 
 fill up the interval in the history of France from the acces- 
 sion of Henry IV. to the death of Louis XIV. ? 
 
 " What ruler of mankind was ever gifted with a spirit 
 more genial, or with views more comprehensive, than 
 those of Henry IV. ? or with an integrity and a patriotism 
 more noble than that of Sully ? or with an energy of will 
 superior to that of Richelieu ? or with subtlety more pro- 
 found than that of Mazarin? or with a zeal and activit}" 
 surpassing that of Colbert? or with greater decision of 
 character than Louvois? or with a majesty transcending 
 that of Louis XIV ? " And yet, what were the results of 
 so much genius and intellectual power when intrusted with 
 political powers so vast and unrestricted? The favorable 
 results were to add to the greatness of France, and to 
 give birth to some undying traditions, pointing to her 
 still more extensive aggrandizement. The unfavorable 
 results were to produce every possible variety of internal 
 and external misgovernment ; to promote wars more san- 
 guinary than had ever before been waged between Chris- 
 tian nations ; to produce a waste of treasure so vast, that 
 the simple truth seems fabulous ; to kindle persecutions 
 which altogether eclipse, in their enormity, those to which 
 the early Christians were subjected by the emperors of 
 Rome ; and to corrupt the moral sense of the people b}' an 
 exhibition, at the court of their sovereigns, of a profligacy 
 of manners better befitting a prince of the barbarians 
 than a king of France. 
 
 According to the doctrine of M. Thomas, there is a 
 general law which regulates the progress of political 
 society. " Emerging from chaos, where its elements 
 battle with each other in wild confusion, it makes a 
 steadfast, though it ma} T be a tardy, progress toward that 
 
376 QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 perfect symmetry and order in which its ultimate perfec 
 tion consists." 
 
 Thus the anarch}' of the tenth and eleventh centuries 
 was the chaotic period of France. Out of that abyss first 
 rose the feudal oligarchy, a state of orderly disorder. 
 Then succeeded the Capetian despotism, destined to 
 crush, one by one, the countless feudal privileges, 
 whether legislative, administrative, or judicial. When 
 the iron grasp of u royalty " had subdued and conquered 
 them all, then " royalty," in the midst of the triumphs 
 she had won, presented herself to the nation in the per- 
 son of Louis XIV., the king par excellence, the one gigan- 
 tic privilege, the conqueror and survivor of all the rest. 
 This was the golden age of kings. The crown was every- 
 thing ; the people, nothing. Robbed under the name of 
 custom and of law, the peasants toiled joylessly from the 
 cradle to the grave. Their sons were sent to strew 
 Europe with their bodies, in wars undertaken at the nod 
 of a courtesan. Their wives and daughters were torn 
 from them ; and for the purpose of supporting lascivious, 
 and riotous splendor, of building Pares aux Cerfs, of 
 pensioning discarded favorites, and of enriching corrupt 
 minions of every stamp, they were taxed, so taxed that 
 the light and air of heaven hardly came to them free ; and, 
 sunk in the dregs of indigence, a short crop compelled 
 them to live on food that the hounds of their taskmasters 
 would reject ; and, Anally, when in their agony they asked 
 some mitigation of their hard fate, they were answered 
 by the bayonets of foreign mercenaries. 
 
 " And a people, stout manhood, gentle womanhood, 
 gray-haired age, and tender infancy, might turn their pale 
 faces upward and shriek for food, while fierce, licentious 
 nobles would scornfully bid them eat grass." 
 
QUEEN MARIE ANTOINETTE. 377 
 
 Such was the condition of the greater part of the French 
 people during the reign of that vilest of monarchs, King 
 Louis XV. 
 
 " Royalty " had sinned right royally. Right royally 
 must "royalty" atone for it. And the guillotine upon 
 the Place de la Concorde was but the expiation of St. 
 Bartholomew, of the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, 
 and of the Pare aux Cerfs. 
 
 And though we know that a people, crushed and down- 
 trodden, are striving to free themselves from lawless 
 oppression, we cannot but sympathize with Marie An- 
 toinette, through no fault of her own made queen of 
 France, to reap the whirlwind of wicked deeds sown by 
 her husband's royal ancestors. 
 
 Frederick the Great, amid the battle-smoke at Sohr, or 
 Napoleon, upon the ensanguined field of Waterloo, never 
 struggled harder in support of their respective causes, 
 than did she, in the salons of Versailles and the Tuileries, 
 to sustain the falling monarchy. 
 
 " And when, at last, the long conflict was terminated, 
 and her combined enemies were victorious, when bereft 
 of her throne, of her husband, of her children, and of her 
 liberty, she was a prisoner in the hands of those whose 
 unalterable object was her destruction, she bore her accu- 
 mulated miseries with a serene resignation, an intrepid 
 fortitude, a true heroism of soul, of which the history of 
 the world does not afford a brighter example." 
 
 In the royai bury ing-vault of the Bourbons, at the 
 Cathedral of St. Denis, now rest the remains of her, 
 once the pride and joy of France, the beautiful, unfor- 
 tunate Queen Marie Antoinette. 
 
 Grandeur, triumphs, sorrows, all are over. 
 
 " Ashes to ashes, 
 Dust to dust." 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 A.D. 1763-1814. 
 
 " Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown." SHAKESPEARE. 
 " Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness." SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 O TR ANGER than fiction are the facts of history ; and 
 kJ) nowhere, among the imaginary characters of romance 
 and poetry, can be found a story of a life more marvel- 
 lously varied in experience, more weirdly strange in its 
 many thrilling scenes of unutterable misery or dazzlingly 
 triumphant splendor, than /the history of the Empress 
 Josephine affords. 
 
 But remarkable as were the events of her life, her char- 
 acter was still more remarkable. With no early advan- 
 tages of education, ' utside of the fashionable accomplish- 
 ments of music, drawing, and dancing ; by her self-taught 
 acouirements, and diligent study, together with an intui- 
 tive perception and aptitude, which enabled her mind to 
 grasp the gravest questions, she was in after-life a most 
 brilliant conversationalist ; and by her comprehensive 
 genius and marvellous political foresight, she became the 
 safest, wisest, and most far-seeing of all Napoleon's 
 advisers and counsellors. When influenced by her per- 
 suasive voice, prompted by a heart incapable of any motive 
 but that of the sternest rectitude, and most exalted and 
 unselfish devotion, Napoleon's acts were always to be 
 commended ; and so highly did he prize her counsel, that 
 he called her his " Mentor." 
 
 Never did she advise him to a false step ; and history 
 
JOSEPHINE. 
 
 EMPRESS OF FRANCE. 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 379 
 
 has shown that, regarding those plans and deeds of 
 Napoleon, which results have proved to have been unwise 
 or grievous mistakes, the gentle voice of Josephine had 
 never failed to give prophetic warning. 
 
 As Napoleon stands forth pre-eminent amongst the 
 famous men of history, so does the name of Josephine 
 shine with undying lustre among those of the most cele- 
 brated heroines of the world. We are dazzled by her 
 gorgeous state and magnificence as empress. We ad- 
 mire her keen intellect and exquisite tact, which never 
 failed to suggest the most perfect and pleasing demeanor, 
 under every emergency, in a time of many unsettled 
 political opinions and tottering thrones. But we love the 
 gentle, unselfish woman, whose heart ever responded to 
 every call for sympathy ; whose hand was ever open to 
 bestow benefits ; and whose marvellous heroism could 
 support her in the midst of such terrible reverses and 
 peculiar trials as only a woman's heart could suffer, and 
 only a woman's love could endure. 
 
 In writing the history of Josephine, we are forced to 
 look upon the darker side of Napoleon's character. From 
 the time he ceased to heed her loving voice, the persua- 
 sive sweetness of which, he himself acknowledged ; de- 
 claring, "that the first applause of the French people 
 sounded to my ear sweet as the voice of Josephine," 
 from that time, the hitherto invincible Napoleon made one 
 false step after another, allowing himself to be influenced 
 b} r ambitious flatterers and deceived by evil counsellors ; 
 following the ignis fatuus of an overweening ambition 
 and thirst for power, which had taken the place of the 
 noble spirit of aspiring to the uplifting of his country- 
 men and defending the sacred rights of the people, which 
 had actuated his former deeds, and covered his name with 
 
380 EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 the splendid glory and well-deserved honor which he had 
 before achieved. 
 
 But now even his transcendent genius and glorious 
 deeds of valor are to be tarnished by grievous mistakes, 
 and even crime. 
 
 The first false step taken, his downfall was as terrible 
 and rapid as his uprising had been sudden and glorious. 
 
 Already evil counsellors are whispering in his ear their 
 diabolical advice. Just here, with all our admiration for 
 Napoleon, we are amazed at him. That a man possess- 
 ing such great genius, and with such far-reaching intui- 
 tions, should have allowed his mind and deeds to be 
 influenced b}' the base flatterers who surrounded him, is 
 strange indeed. That Napoleon should not have discov- 
 ered the Mephistopheles, in Fouche", is surprising ; equally 
 amazing, that he should have become so blinded as to 
 turn from his truest friends and most unselfish advisers, 
 and have bared his breast to the poisonous fangs of the 
 wily serpents, who hissed around him like a nest of rattle- 
 snakes. 
 
 That steadfastness of purpose which made Napoleon so 
 invincible in overcoming the most stupendous difficulties 
 when his cause was righteous, and which made him the 
 wonder of the world, became the greatest obstacle in his 
 way when his cause was wrong and his resolves per- 
 nicious. 
 
 The very element in his nature which made him trans- 
 cendent for good, rendered him also powerful for evil, 
 when his resolution had once been taken in a wrong direc- 
 tion. His unconquerable will, which bore him upward 
 through the most overwhelming difficulties, and crowned 
 him with well-merited success, when his aspirations were 
 inspired by true patriotism and the laudable desire to 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 381 
 
 benefit his country, that same unconquerable will be- 
 came his bane, and led him into the most lamentable 
 errors when his former high aspirations had been sup- 
 planted by personal ambition and inordinate desire for 
 power. 
 
 We cannot give a consecutive history of Napoleon's 
 errors and downfall in this sketch, but they will appear 
 from time to time, as we trace a short outline of the life 
 of Josephine. We do not pretend to say that Josephine 
 always consciously guided Napoleon's career and moulded 
 the events of his life. His own genius raised him to his 
 exalted position, we admit ; but we do contend that with 
 Josephine he prospered, and without her he fell. 
 
 And according to many authorities, it was Josephine's 
 bridal gift to him that gave him the command of the 
 army of Italy ; for it was Barras who recommended Bona- 
 parte to the convention ; and it was Barras who assured 
 Madame de Beauharnais that if she married General Bona- 
 parte he would contrive to have him appointed to that 
 command. 
 
 We have space but to give two scenes in the life of 
 Josephine before she became Madame Bonaparte. The 
 former occurred upon the island of Martinique, when 
 Josephine was a young girl ; the latter, after she had 
 become Vicomtesse de Beauharnais. 
 
 One da}', when Josephine was about fifteen years oi 
 age, she was walking through the spacious grounds of her 
 uncle's West Indian plantation, in the island of Martin- 
 ique, when she observed a number of negro girls gathered 
 around an old woman who was engaged in telling their 
 fortunes. Josephine, with girlish curiosity, drew near ; 
 whereupon, the old sibyl seized her hand, and, reading the 
 lines there, appeared to be greatly moved. 
 
382 EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 " What do you see?" inquired Josephine. 
 
 " You will not believe me if I speak," answered the 
 fortune-teller. 
 
 "Speak on, good mother," said Josephine ; "what 
 have I to fear or hope?" 
 
 " On your own head be it then ; listen," said the old 
 sibyl. 
 
 ' ' You will be married soon ; that union will not be 
 happy ; you will become a widow, and then, you will be 
 queen of France ! Some happy years will be yours ; but 
 you will die in a hospital, amid civil commotion;" after 
 saying which, the old woman speedily disappeared. 
 
 Josephine thought little of this matter at the time, and 
 only laughed about it with her friends ; and when she was 
 residing at Navarre, after the divorce, she thus commented 
 upon it : 
 
 " On account of the seeming absurdity of this ridiculous 
 prediction, I thought little of the affair. But afterwards, 
 when my husband had perished on the scaffold, in spite 
 of my better judgment this prediction forcibly recurred 
 to my mind ; and though I was then myself in prison, 
 the transaction assumed a less improbable character, and 
 when I, myself, had been also condemned to die, I com- 
 forted my companions, who were weeping around me, by 
 smilingly exclaiming : 
 
 " 'That not only should I not die, but that I should 
 become Queen of France.' 
 
 " ' Why then do you not appoint your household ? ' asked 
 Madame d'Aiguillon, who was also one of the prisoners 
 of the Revolution. 
 
 " 4 Ah ! that is true, I had forgotten. Well, my dear, 
 you shall be maid of honor ; I promise you the situation.' 
 
 "Upon this the tears of those ladies flowed more abun- 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 383 
 
 dantly ; for they thought, on seeing my coolness at such 
 a crisis, that misfortune had affected my reason. Such, 
 ladies, is the truth about this so celebrated prophecy. 
 The end gives me but little inquietucle. I live here peace- 
 fully in retirement ; I have no concern with politics ; I 
 endeavor to do all the good in my power; and thus I 
 hope to die calmly in my bed." 
 
 After the death of the Vicomte de Beauharnais on the 
 scaffold, his wife Josephine, who had also been imprisoned 
 by the Jacobins, was at length condemned to die. 
 
 A few days before her terrible doom was to have been 
 sealed, Josephine and Madame de Fontenay, also a pris- 
 oner, were standing together at the barred window of their 
 prison. M. Tallien, a man of much influence with the 
 rising power which was opposing the tyranny of Robes- 
 pierre, was in love with Madame de Fontenay, and daily 
 walked past the convent of the Carmelites, where Jose- 
 phine and the other ladies of high birth were imprisoned. 
 
 Observing M. Tallien, Madame de Fontenay made a 
 sign for him to draw near, and she then dropped from the 
 window a piece of cabbage-leaf, in which she had enclosed 
 the following note : 
 
 "My trial is decreed; the result is certain. If you 
 love me as }'ou sa} r , urge every means to save France 
 and me." 
 
 Roused by the danger of her whom he loved, M. Tallien 
 proceeded to the convention, and making- an impassioned 
 and eloquent speech, denouncing Robespierre, he turned 
 the tide of popular opinion against the tyrant, and in a 
 short time Robespierre's head fell under the bloody guillo- 
 tine, where he had already caused so many thousands to 
 perish. 
 
 The manner in which Josephine received the news of 
 
384 EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 her enemy's death was strange and interesting. It was 
 the day before that upon which it had been decreed that 
 Madame de Beauharnais should be put to death. Jose- 
 phine was standing at the window of her prison, calmly 
 gazing upon the outward world, while her fellow-prisoners 
 were weeping around, overcome with the thought of the 
 terrible , doom which awaited their loved friend. But 
 Josephine's fortitude did hot desert her, and she was en- 
 deavoring to comfort her mourning companions, when her 
 attention was arrested by a woman in the street below, 
 who seemed trying to give her some information by vari- 
 ous strange signs. 
 
 At first the woman held -up her robe, pointing to it 
 several times. Josephine called out through the grated 
 window, "Robe?" and the woman eagerly made a sign 
 of assent ; and picking up a stone, which in French is 
 pierre, she held it up. Josephine cried out, "Pierre?" 
 and the woman joyfully nodded, and then pointed first to 
 her robe and then to the stone. Whereupon Josephine 
 wonderingly exclaimed, "Robespierre?" and the woman 
 again assented with every mark of delight, and continued 
 to draw her hand around her throat, making the signs of 
 cutting off a head. The glad cry soon resounded through 
 the prison, " Robespierre is dead!" 
 
 Thus was the axe lifted from the neck of Josephine, 
 and she soon walked forth free, saying smilingly to her 
 friends : 
 
 u You see I am not guillotined ; and I shall yet be queen 
 of France ! " 
 
 Thus not only had the life of the future empress of 
 France, but the fate of that great kingdom itself, de- 
 pended at one time upon a tiny cabbage-leaf, thrown by 
 the hand of a feeble woman. 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 385 
 
 After Josephine de Beauharnais was betrothed to Gen- 
 eral Bonaparte, on one occasion she requested him to 
 accompany her to the residence of M. Raguideau, an old 
 lawyer, who had long been her confidential friend and 
 adviser, that she might inform him of her coming mar- 
 riage. On arriving at the lawyer's office, Josephine with- 
 drew her hand from the arm of Bonaparte, and requested 
 him to wait for her in the outer apartment until she had 
 spoken with her old friend alone. Neglecting, however, 
 to close the door which separated the two offices, Bona- 
 parte was able to overhear the conversation between his 
 intended bride and the old lawyer. 
 
 " M. Raguideau," said Madame de Beauharnais, " I 
 have come to inform you of my approaching marriage." 
 
 "And with whom, madame?" exclaimed the aston- 
 ished lawyer. 
 
 " I am about to marry General Bonaparte, sir." 
 
 " General Bonaparte, do you say? Pshaw, madame ! a 
 soldier of fortune, who has his way to make." 
 
 " He will make it, my good friend ! " replied Josephine, 
 with flushed cheeks. 
 
 " When, and how?" was the incredulous retort. " But 
 first, what is he worth at present?" 
 
 " Nothing, save his house in the Rue Chantereine." 
 
 " A shed! A likely fortune, indeed ! And so you are 
 really resolved to marry this adventurer ? " 
 
 "I am." 
 
 " So much the worse for you, madame." 
 
 " Explain yourself, sir ! " said Josephine, with offended 
 dignity. 
 
 "Because, madame, you had much better remain a 
 widow than marry a paltry general, without either name 
 or prospects. You must assuredly be mad ! Will your 
 
386 EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 Bonaparte ever be a Dumouriez or a Picliegru ? "Will he 
 ever be the equal of our great republican generals? I 
 have a right to doubt it. Moreover, let me tell you that 
 the profession of arms is worthless now ; and I would 
 much rather know that you were about to marry an army- 
 contractor than General Bonaparte." 
 
 "Every one to his taste, monsieur," disdainfully re- 
 plied Josephine, stung to the quick by the contemptuous 
 tone of the old man, who had always heretofore been 
 fatherly to her. " You, sir, it would appear, regard mar- 
 riage merely as an affair of finance ; " and she rose with 
 queenly dignity to take her leave. 
 
 "And you, madame," broke in the excited and angry 
 old man, "you see in it only a matter of- sentiment, and 
 what you, no doubt, call love. Again I repeat, all the 
 worse for you, madame ! all the worse for you ! I had 
 given you more credit for good sense than to suspect that 
 you would allow yourself to be dazzled by a pair of gold 
 epaulets. Reflect before you make such a sacrifice ; 
 for rest assured, that if you are rash enough to persist in 
 this foolish scheme, you will repent your folly all the 
 days of your life. Who ever heard of a rational woman 
 throwing herself away upon a man whose whole fortune 
 consists in his sword and his great-coat?" 
 
 General Bonaparte had listened to this extraordinary 
 conversation with rising excitement ; and when he heard 
 the words " sword" and "great-coat" so contemptuously 
 uttered, he sprang from his chair, with blazing eyes, for- 
 getting the presence of the astonished clerks ; but, recov- 
 ering himself instantly, he sat down again, determined 
 not to expose himself to ridicule. 
 
 Josephine soon appeared, looking highly anno}~ed and 
 indignant, followed by the irate old lawyer; but Bona- 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 387 
 
 parte, giving him no time for further insult, drew the 
 hand of his betrothed within his arm, and, making a 
 silent and contemptuous bow, withdrew. 
 
 Josephine had no idea that Bonaparte had been an 
 unwilling listener ; but she noticed his marked increase 
 of kind and courtly attention on the way home ; and not 
 until the day of the coronation did either Josephine or 
 Raguideau entertain the slightest suspicion that their con- 
 versation had been overheard by Bonaparte. On the day 
 of the coronation, when the emperor and empress were 
 about to proceed to the palace of the archbishop, Napo- 
 leon sent one of his chamberlains to M. Raguideau, with 
 the command that the emperor desired his immediate 
 presence at the Tuileries. The astonished lawyer, arriv- 
 ing with breathless haste, overwhelmed with mingled feel- 
 ings of fear and hope at such unexpected summons, was 
 ushered into the grand salon, where Napoleon, attired in 
 his royal robes, was conversing with Josephine, who was 
 also arrayed in her gorgeous coronation costume. 
 
 "Ah! here you are at last, M. Raguideau!" said 
 Napoleon, with a quizzical smile upon his imposing coun- 
 tenance ; " I am very happy to see you ! " 
 
 " Sire," began the trembling old man, not knowing 
 whether that august smile betokened promotion or de- 
 capitation. 
 
 " My good sir," continued the emperor, not giving him 
 time to reply, " do you remember a day in 1796, when I 
 accompanied to your house Madame de Beauharnais, now 
 empress of the French?" emphasizing the word u em- 
 press" with all the depth of his magnetic voice. " Do you 
 remember the eulogy which you uttered on the military 
 profession, and the personal panegyric of which I was 
 the object? Well, what say you now? Were you a true 
 
388 EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 prophet? You declared that my fortune would always 
 consist of my sword and my great-coat ; that I should 
 never make a name nor position, like Dumouriez or 
 Pichegm ; and that Madame de Beauharnais was insane 
 to sacrifice herself to a ' mere general.' I have made my 
 way, nevertheless, as you perceive, and in despite of your 
 sagacious predictions. Think you that the ' army -con- 
 tractor' would have bestowed a brighter boon upon his 
 wife, after eight years of marriage, than a crown , and 
 that crown the imperial diadem of France ? " 
 
 As he ceased speaking, Napoleon lovingly raised the 
 hand of Josephine to his lips, while she looked with 
 amazement upon this bewildering scene. The poor old 
 lawyer, overwhelmed with consternation, stood trembling 
 in dumb despair ; his eyes were cast upon the floor, and 
 his limbs shook as with an ague fit ; while the emperor 
 gazed upon him with an amused smile, highly enjoying 
 his discomfiture At last the frightened man stam- 
 mered : 
 
 " Sire, I could not foresee. Sire, did you really over- 
 hear?" 
 
 "Every word, M. Raguideau. You are aware that 
 walls have ears, and I owe you a severe reprisal ; for, if 
 my excellent Josephine had listened to your advice, it 
 would have cost her a throne, and me the best of wives. 
 You are a great culprit, M. Raguideau ! " 
 
 At those terrible words " repmoZ " and "cwJpnV'.the 
 poor old man turned pale as a corpse ; his tottering limbs 
 almost refused to support his agitated form. 
 
 " How could I tell? how could I imagine?" he gasped 
 out; "I thought only of her, of her fatherless children. 
 I had loved them for years. I was anxious to see them 
 once more restored to prosperity and happiness." 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 389 
 
 " I believe you," said the emperor, touched by the 
 emotion of the gray -haired old man, who had been a 
 friend to his wife in her days of need ; ' ' you could not 
 tell ; you could not foresee ; " and for a moment Napoleon 
 paused, and then continued in more solemn tones, "the 
 future is beyond the grasp of any living man." Then, re- 
 suming his bantering way : " So, now, we will return to 
 the present ; and, as I cannot altogether overlook the 
 injury which you sought to inflict upon me, I condemn 
 you to go this day to N6tre Dame, and to witness the 
 ceremony of my coronation. Not in a corner, not behind 
 a pillar, which will prevent my having ocular evidence of 
 your obedience, but in the seat that I shall cause to be 
 retained for you. Do you hear, sir? I must see you 
 both in the cathedral and in the line of the procession." 
 
 Transported with the overwhelming relief and the ec- 
 static joy of such an honor, the poor old lawyer was 
 hardly able to express his gratitude, and could scarcely 
 maintain his dignity as he bowed himself from the royal 
 presence, and hastened to prepare for the coming august 
 ceremony. 
 
 Napoleon having jested with his wife over the abject 
 terror of the trembling culprit, the emperor and empress 
 entered their carriage, and proceeded to the archbishopric. 
 As they left the cathedral after the magnificent ceremony 
 of the coronation, Napoleon recognized the old lawyer in 
 the crowd ; and as their eyes met the Emperor smiled gra- 
 ciously upon his former enemy. The smile was answered 
 by so profound a bow, that Napoleon afterwards laugh- 
 ingly declared to Josephine, " that for several seconds he 
 was in doubt whether the sage prophet of 1796 would 
 ever be able again to assume the perpendicular." 
 
 During Napoleon's campaigns, Josephine was at all 
 
390 EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 times in receipt of news from the army, brought to her 
 by couriers from Bonaparte. No matter at what time the 
 despatches arrived, day or night, she always received them 
 with her own hands, and made inquiries of the courier of 
 all in the army whom she knew. She would always say 
 some pleasant thing to him, and reward him with a more 
 or less costly gift, according to the importance of the news 
 received. 
 
 At one time, when Bourrienne had remarked to Jose- 
 phine, " Madame, I really believe that in spite of }-our- 
 self you will be made queen or empress," Josephine 
 exclaimed: " Bourrienue, such ambition is far from my 
 thoughts. That I may always continue the wife of the 
 First Consul, is all that I desire." 
 
 During the Prussian campaign, nothing was talked of 
 throughout Germany but Napoleon's generous conduct 
 with respect to Prince Hatzfeld. Among the letters 
 seized at Berlin, and delivered to Napoleon, was one 
 from the prince to the king of Prussia, in which he re- 
 vealed the condition and strength of the French army. 
 The prince was arrested, and tried as a spy, and con- 
 demned to death. The remainder of the scene is described 
 in Napoleon's letter to Josephine, which is as follows : 
 
 ' ' I ha>ve received your letter, in which you seem to 
 reproach me for speaking ill of women. It is true that 
 I dislike female intriguers above all things. I am used to 
 kind, gentle, and conciliatory women. I love them, and 
 if they have spoiled me, it is not my fault, but yours. 
 However, you will see that I have done an act of kindness 
 to one deserving woman. I allude to Madame de Hatz- 
 feld. When I showed her her husband's letter, she stood 
 weeping, and in a tone of mingled grief and ingenuousness, 
 said, ' It is indeed his writing ! ' This went to my heart, 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 391 
 
 and I said : c Well, madame, throw the letter into the fire, 
 and then I shall have no proof against your husband.' She 
 burned the letter, and was restored to happiness. Her 
 husband now is safe ; two hours later, and he would have 
 been lost. You see, therefore, that I like women who are 
 simple, gentle, and amiable ; because they alone resemble 
 you." 
 
 Josephine's kindness and consideration for the comfort 
 of every one in her household, even down to the lowest 
 menial, was proverbial. When travelling with Napoleon, 
 a picket-guard was appointed by the emperor for her ser- 
 vice. One cold night, in the early dawn, she heard 
 marching and coughing under her window. She wondered 
 who could be out so late in the chill of that hour ; and 
 upon inquiry, she learned that it was the sentinel posted 
 there. She thereupon sent for the officer of the guard, 
 and said to him, " Sir, I have no need of a sentinel at 
 night ; these brave men have endured enough in the army 
 when they followed it to the wars ; they must rest while 
 in my service. I don't want them to catch cold." The 
 officer, smiling at the apprehensive solicitude of the em- 
 press, and touched by her unexpected kindness, dismissed 
 the sentinel, and his place was not supplied. 
 
 Napoleon is said to have talked but little. When out 
 of his own house, if he chanced to stop and speak with 
 any one, it was considered of enough importance to be 
 remarked and reported. The following is Josephine's 
 portrait of Napoleon at home : u He had a fine intellect, 
 a sensible and grateful heart, simple tastes, and the quali- 
 ties of an amiable man ; to the sentiments of an honest 
 man, he united a prodigious local memory." 
 
 When Josephine spoke of her husband, she always said, 
 "The emperor says," "the emperor wishes," " the em- 
 
392 EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 peror orders," etc. She very rarely called him by name 
 in public, and in private she called him Bonaparte ; while 
 her tender name for him was mon ami. When speak- 
 ing of her, Napoleon usually called her the empress, or 
 he would say, " I am going to see my wife" ; but in ad- 
 dressing her he called her Josephine, unless he spoke with 
 severity or on some serious occasion, when he called her 
 Madame, without other title or name. 
 
 It cannot be denied that Josephine had a great weak- 
 ness for extravagant jewels and adornments ; but as she 
 dressed always with perfect taste and elegance, and as 
 she was as lavish in her bounties as she was in her per- 
 sonal expenditures, she may be pardoned this feminine 
 weakness. She at least never offended the eyes of 
 admirers of good taste, and her pleasing person, so 
 becomingly adorned, was one of the most charming sights 
 of the court of the empire. 
 
 This was another cause of the jealousy of her sisters-in- 
 law ; and even Pauline, the Bonaparte beauty, was often 
 most sorely chagrined to find her own boasted charms 
 thrown in the shade by the refined elegance and queenly 
 bearing of the emperor's wife. 
 
 An amusing story is told of the mortification of this 
 proud beauty upon one grand occasion, when she had 
 resolved for once to outshine her hated sister-in-law. 
 
 Pauline, Madame Le Clerc, after wearing her widow's 
 weeds for as short a time as possible after the death of 
 her first husband, General Le Clerc, had wedded a real 
 prince, and was accordingly to make her debut at court 
 as Princess Borghese. 
 
 Pauline has kept her own counsel about her grande 
 toilette for that momentous occasion ; but the rumor is 
 afloat that she intends to make a grand coup with her 
 
NAPOLEON. 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 393 
 
 gorgeous appearance, and quite extinguish her august 
 sister-in-law. 
 
 Josephine, having heard that she was to be crushed 
 into utter insignificance by the vain beauty, quietly deter- 
 mined a little stratagem of her own. Confident of being 
 mistress in the art of dress, she accordingly resolved to 
 assume a costume which should delight by its very sim- 
 plicity. But a simplicity so artistically arranged that the 
 very splendor of her rival should but heighten the effect 
 of her own toilet. Her dress was of the finest Indian 
 muslin, bordered with gold and embroidery, and grace- 
 fully draped to show the perfect elegance of her figure. 
 Her hair was dressed & la grecque, and banded with pearls, 
 while antique gems and pearls formed her sole ornaments. 
 
 " Ravissante ! " exclaimed her ladies, as she entered 
 the salon; and even Napoleon's usual gravity relents, as 
 he cries : 
 
 " Josephine, je suis jaloux! Tu es divine!" and he 
 kisses her on the forehead, pinching her ear laughingly, 
 which was his favorite manner of bestowing a gracious 
 caress. 
 
 The time passes, but no princess. Napoleon impa- 
 tiently retires from the salon; his time is too precious to 
 wait longer the "official visit," as he calls it, of the prince 
 and princess. 
 
 At length the clatter of horses' hoofs is heard. A car- 
 riage grand enough, with its gilding and emblazonry, to 
 have borne the Grand Monarque himself, dashes into the 
 Cour d'Honneur of St. Cloud. 
 
 Six gayly caparisoned horses are harnessed to this gor- 
 geous vehicle, and a large retinue of outriders surround 
 it, bearing torches. On the grand staircase are stationed 
 the entire staff of domestics to receive their princely 
 guests. 
 
394: EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 Presently the huissier opens the doors of the 
 and announces with becoming grandiloquence : 
 
 " Monseigneur le Prince, and Madame la Princesse 
 Borghese." 
 
 The grande entree is made with imposing hauteur, and 
 Pauline sees with satisfaction that she has made a sensa- 
 tion. But her vain heart is ruffled because she is obliged 
 to cross the room to Josephine, instead of being met by 
 her, as la grande princesse had of course expected. 
 
 But she comforted her wounded pride with the thought 
 that this promenade would give her the opportunity to 
 display her velvet train embroidered with diamonds. 
 
 Pauline was indeed magnificent. Her costume was a 
 pale green velvet embroidered with gold, and thickly 
 sprinkled with flashing brilliants. The front of her dress 
 was a tablier of diamonds, with diamond stomacher, and 
 the same glistening jewels upon her sleeves. Her hand- 
 some head was adorned with a diadem of emeralds and 
 diamonds, and the same gems sparkled upon snowy arms, 
 wrists, and throat. In fact, she was loaded with the en- 
 tire wealth of diamonds possessed by the princely family 
 of Borghese ; and as it was reported that when she came 
 back from St. Domingo, where her former husband died, 
 she had guarded carefully a coffin, containing the sup- 
 posed remains of her late husband, but in reality filled 
 with diamonds and other precious stones. If this was 
 true, Pauline doubtless had diamonds of her own to add 
 to the vaunted store of the family of her second princely 
 husband. 
 
 Be that as it may, Pauline flashed in diamonds from 
 head to foot ; nay more, even to the end of her gorgeous 
 train, where the same rich jewels also sparkled. 
 
 She was indeed dazzling ! 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 395 
 
 Josephine and Pauline are at length seated side by 
 side. The proud princess is forced to acknowledge that 
 Josephine's toilet is charming ; and all beholders are con- 
 firmed in their opinion that Madame Bonaparte's taste is 
 faultless. 
 
 But horrors! "What has happened? Pauline, la prin- 
 cesse, has grown pale as death. Is she ill? Oh! worse 
 than that. Oh, awful catastrophe ! Pauline, gazing into 
 a large mirror before her, expecting to be ravished with 
 her own beauty, perceives this dreadful fact. The furni- 
 ture and draperies of the newly furnished salon, while 
 giving full effect to Josephine's costume, actually trans- 
 form herself into a hideous spectacle. Wearing a green 
 velvet gown, she has seated herself upon a blue velvet sofa ! 
 It is positively too shocking for her nerves to endure. 
 Had her boasted triumph encountered such ignominious 
 defeat? Hastily rising, she made her adieus, and de- 
 parted to weep in mortified chagrin and baffled pride. 
 Poor Pauline ! kind-hearted Josephine had not intended 
 to achieve such an unexpected triumph. 
 
 The Empress Josephine was very generous to her at- 
 tendant ladies, often making them costly presents. As 
 she frequently gave them handsome costumes and pretty 
 novelties which she had worn but once or twice, the 
 ladies at length entered into quite a trade with certain 
 Jews, who came to the court to display their merchandise. 
 As the robes of the empress were often too rich for the 
 ladies who received them to wear themselves, they ex- 
 changed them for piece-goods, which the Jewish merchants 
 brought for sale. These garments of the empress became 
 quite the rage ; and at one ball, Josephine might have 
 beheld the ladies in an entire quadrille, arrayed in her 
 cast-off robes. Even princesses were frequently the pur- 
 
396 EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 chasers of these gowns from the Jews, who had obtained 
 them in exchange for the merchandise with which they 
 had supplied the ladies of Josephine's court. 
 
 At one time an ambassador arrived from Persia, bring- 
 ing very magnificent presents to the Emperor Napoleon 
 and costly cashmeres to Josephine. For some time his 
 Persian Excellency was all the rage, and the ladies of the 
 French court vied with each other in endeavoring to show 
 attention to these eastern guests. The parties given by 
 the Persian ambassador and his suite, at their residences, 
 were largely attended, and much curiosity was evinced to 
 partake of the foreign tea and queer cakes offered by 
 their Persian hosts. 
 
 The empress at length determined to attend one of 
 their parties incognito, being accompanied by several of 
 her ladies. On being introduced to the ambassador, 
 Josephine received a gracious smile, and the Persian pre- 
 sented her with a small bottle of attar of roses, a kind of 
 present which, among the Persians, denoted a mark of 
 high honor and respect. 
 
 Josephine tasted several mysterious Persian dishes, and 
 expressed admiration of his Excellency's pipe, which was 
 brought to him by two slaves, who kneeled when they 
 offered it to their august master. Josephine noticed that 
 the tips of his Excellency's finger-nails were colored with 
 different tints. 
 
 The ambassador being impressed with the manner and 
 grace of the empress, invited her to be seated by his side 
 on his divan. She graciously declined the attention, say- 
 ing that such an honor belonged only to privileged per- 
 sons, fearing that her identity would be made known. 
 The Persian then asked, through his interpreter, if she 
 would be willing to go and reside with him in Persia, 
 promising that he would give her a high position. 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 397 
 
 Scarcely restraining her mirth, Josephine replied that 
 she was married and had two children, and that her duty 
 and interests would keep her in France. And with as 
 much haste as courtesy would allow, the empress and her 
 ladies retired from the presence of their Persian host. 
 
 On the the day of the ambassador's public presentation 
 at court, Josephine, arrayed in all her imperial magnifi- 
 cence, received him with a gracious smile. The poor, 
 dumfounded Persian, who recognized in the empress 
 the woman whom he had vainly tried to captivate, was 
 completely amazed, and his manner and attitude expressed 
 his astonished mortification. 
 
 But Josephine, with winning smile, quickly relieved 
 him of his embarrassment, saying, in her sweet persua- 
 sive tones : 
 
 " You must admit, Monsieur 1'Ambassadeur, that I had 
 good reason for telling you that I preferred to remain in 
 France. If you think well of me, you will remain faith- 
 ful to that Tbeautif ul wife of yours." And with a sign of 
 respect, the humiliated Persian withdrew. 
 
 At Josephine's early receptions as wife of the First 
 Consul, the costumes of the guests were very heterogene- 
 ous in style. The fashions of the Republic had been copied 
 after ancient Greek and Roman styles ; and the ladies of 
 the Republic flaunted their Grecian tunics and Roman 
 sandals with great pride. But after a time it was 
 remarked "that military boots and pantaloons, clanking 
 swords and cockades, were in a considerable minority, 
 and that silk stockings, shoes with buckles, dress swords, 
 and chapeaux sous le bras were the rule. Some of the 
 company had, however, endeavored to spare their feelings 
 too complete a shock, by an attempt to unite the past and 
 the present. While returning to powder and embroidery, 
 
398 EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 lace ruffles and cravats, they contrived to retain in their 
 costumes some reminiscence of the fast vanishing and 
 much regretted ' sans-culottism ' of the Republic. This 
 resulted in amusing and startling incongruities." 
 
 But during the empire, Napoleon was particular about 
 the etiquette of his court. He regarded it as the chief 
 barrier of the throne, and of great importance. He 
 caused an exact account of all the ceremonies in use at the 
 courts of Louis XIV. and Louis XV. to be drawn up, and 
 he directed the most scrupulous attention to be paid to their 
 performance. Josephine was sufficiently a daughter of 
 the Revolution to smile at too strict etiquette ; she said : 
 " It was perhaps appropriate for princesses, born to the 
 throne and accustomed to the restraints it imposes ; but 
 she, who had lived so many years as a private person, 
 ought, she considered, to be less exacting, less severely 
 punctilious in her intercourse with those who knew and 
 remembered the circumstances of her former life." "And 
 although she learned to wear her crown and mantle of 
 state and to sit on her throne right royally, she was ever 
 unfailingly indulgent in the matter of etiquette, and always 
 pleased to throw aside its restraints." 
 
 After the imperial decree had ennobled many to whom 
 the mysteries of the court had hitherto been sealed books, 
 very amusing incidents occurred. The Faubourg St. Ger- 
 main resented the indignity which had been offered to 
 their patrician prejudices ; and the newly created nobles 
 were often treated with superb disdain by those entitled 
 to such rank from birth. 
 
 " The Duchesse de Chevreuse desired her waiting- 
 woman to inform her laundress that she should no longer 
 intrust her with her linen, until she became a countess ; 
 and the Comte de Brissac addressed a note to his boot- 
 maker as follows : 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 399 
 
 4 My dear baron ! do not fail to bring me my boots to- 
 morrow.' And when on the next day the astonished 
 tradesman assured him that he had been the recipient of 
 no such title, De Brissac exclaimed with elegant imperti- 
 nence : ' Can this be possible ? You really astonish me ! 
 Console yourself, however, Maizenat ; for rest assured 
 that you will be included in the next baking.' " 
 
 But it was hardly to be wondered at, perhaps, that the 
 old nobles sneered at some of these new-titled persons, 
 whose own presumptuous pride made them fit subjects for 
 mirth. This throng of new courtiers, most of whom had 
 sworn eternal hatred to" kings and royalty, now danced 
 attendance at the levies of the emperor, and vied with 
 each other to obtain a look or word from his imperial 
 highness, that they might repay him for it with the pomp- 
 ous titles of u Sire," and " Your Ma jest}'," which they did 
 with an air of self-gratulation, which appeared as if the 
 individual considered himself to be ennobled by the privi- 
 lege of merely uttering the magic words. Among the 
 strange actions related of some of these " newly baked 
 dignitaries" one or two are quite amusing. 
 
 The wife of a marshal purchased several dresses of old 
 brocade, such as were worn at the Court of Louis XV., 
 and kept them spread out upon chairs in the hall leading 
 to her bedroom, as if placed there to air. When her 
 curious visitors asked her what she was going to do with 
 them, she replied with apparent carelessness, under 
 which lurked much pompous pride: u Do with them? 
 Oh ! nothing at all ; but they belonged to my grand- 
 mother, and I wish to keep them as long as I can for her 
 sake." 
 
 Books on heraldry brought fabulous prices ; and the 
 father behind his counter, and the mother at her wash-tub, 
 
400 EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 were entertained by their pretty daughters, endeavoring 
 to master the high-bred French titles of the ancien regime. 
 
 One soap-dealer, whose daughter had married an officei 
 in the army, and had embellished the panels of her car- 
 riage with a gloved hand grasping a sword, the military 
 crest of her husband, innocently thanked his daughter 
 for having tried to copy the golden arm which figured 
 above his shop-door ; though he regretted that she should 
 have had it painted to look like iron, and generously 
 stated that had he known of it, he would willingly have 
 paid the difference of cost himself. 
 
 The return to Paris of several grandes dames prom- 
 ised a gradual reorganization of " la bonne compagnie" 
 and several of the contractors' wives were ambitious to be 
 received in the Faubourg St. Germain ; and one of them, 
 Madame Privas, who was desirous of opening her salon to 
 the beau monde, having read Madame de GenhV work, 
 " Adele et Theodore," at once exclaimed to her hus- 
 band : "Privas! this is the lady for us." Whereupon 
 Madame Privas arrayed herself in resplendent robes, and 
 attended by a negro servant in Moorish costume, she 
 entered her gorgeous carriage and proceeded to take 
 Madame de Genlis by storm. 
 
 She had not the least doubt of the success of her 
 errand, which was no less than the attempt to secure 
 Madame de Genlis, who had returned to Paris in pinched 
 circumstances, to come to her magnificent hotel in the Rue 
 St. Dominique, and as a lady, receive for her : in short, 
 put her in the way of learning the old etiquette with which 
 she should honor people who were quite comme ilfaut. 
 And so with pompous brusqueness she announces the 
 object of her visit to Madame de Genlis. She would give 
 her a salary of twelve thousand francs. She would prom- 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 401 
 
 ise not to tyrannize over her, and even if she had a deaf 
 friend she also would be welcome. What more could she 
 require ? 
 
 44 Madame, I thank you for your obliging offer, which I 
 
 have the honor to inform you it is not in my power to 
 
 accept," replied Madame de Genlis, rising with the 
 
 'courtly manner of a grande dame of the court of the 
 
 Grand Monarque. 
 
 "You refuse it!" cried Madame Privas in astonish- 
 ment. Why, I offer much more than you can get for your 
 books. And besides, you would have friends in us ; 
 friends with a fortune of five millions. C'est beau, ca! 
 eh?" 
 
 "Madame," replied Madame de Genlis, "I have 
 answered you. It is impossible." 
 
 44 Well, adieu then, my bonne dame. Privas and I 
 made sure you would jump at the offer. In case you 
 should change your mind, I'll leave you my address. 
 Write me, if you think better of it." And with her plumes 
 waving in ruffled pride, and her velvets and satins rustling 
 in their gorgeous costliness, Madame Privas bounced out 
 of the room, forgetting her assumed elegance of manner 
 at the affront offered to her darling dollars. 
 
 Josephine's manners, u en representation" were charm- 
 ing. She appeared a very queen at the emperor's public 
 receptions. Her air and attitude were dignified, graceful, 
 and yet natural. She conversed with ease and fluency, 
 employing the choicest terms of expression ; and the spec- 
 tator could not resist a pleased astonishment at the gra- 
 cious bearing which charmed all classes of society, and 
 at her alluring tact which enabled her to address crowds 
 of persons in quick succession, and yet with a pleasing 
 and appropriate word to each, turning with equal ease 
 from a tradesman to a monarch. 
 
402 EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 The emperor was one day about to undertake some im- 
 portant business, when Josephine besought him to put it 
 off for a time, remarking that it was Friday, which was 
 regarded as an unlucky day. Napoleon replied: " 'Tis 
 so perhaps to you, Madame, but it is the most fortunate 
 in my life. I never shall forget that it was the day of 
 our marriage." The empress was deeply touched at this 
 mark of devotion from her husband, and she ceased to 
 enforce her request. 
 
 The time for the coronation ceremony had arrived. 
 Josephine felt the solemnity as well as the grandeur of 
 the occasion, as is evinced from these few lines written to 
 Pope Pius VII. at this time : 
 
 " Ah ! truly do I feel, that in becoming empress of the 
 French, I ought also to become to them as a mother at 
 the same time. What would it avail to bear them in my 
 heart, if I proved my affections for them only by my in- 
 tentions? Deeds are what the the people have a right to 
 demand from those who govern them." 
 
 And truly, Josephine exemplified her words by her 
 actions. 
 
 On the 2d of December, 1804, all was stir in Paris and 
 the Tuileries from an early hour. 
 
 " On this morning, which was to witness the completion 
 of her greatness, Josephine rose about eight o'clock, and 
 immediately commenced her momentous grande toilette. 
 The body draperj r of the empress was of white satin, 
 beautifully embroidered in gold, and ornamented on the 
 breast with diamonds. The mantle was of crimson vel- 
 vet, lined with satin and ermine, studded with golden 
 bees, and fastened by an aigrette of diamonds. 
 
 "The coronation jewels consisted of a crown, a diadem, 
 and a ceinture. The first used for the actual crowning. 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 403 
 
 and worn only on state occasions, consisted of eight 
 branches, four wrought in palm, and four in myrtle leaves 
 of gold, incrusted with diamonds ; round the circlet ran a 
 corded fillet set with eight very large emeralds, and the 
 bandeau which immediately enclosed the head, shone with 
 resplendent amethysts. 
 
 " The diadem worn before the coronation, and on the 
 more ordinary state occasions, was composed of four rows 
 of the finest pearls interlaced with foliage of diamonds, 
 the workmanship of which equalled the materials ; in 
 front were several brilliants, the largest weighing one 
 hundred and forty-nine grains. The ceinture was of gold, 
 so pure as to be quite elastic, enriched with thirt3~-nine 
 rose-colored diamonds. 
 
 " Napoleon's coronation robes were equally magnificent. 
 His close dress was of white velvet, embroidered in gold, 
 with diamond buttons ; his stockings of white silk, the 
 gussets wrought in gold, harmonized with the buskins of 
 white velvet laced and bordered with gold ; his upper 
 garment, as also the short mantle, were of crimson vel- 
 vet, richly embroidered in gold, with diamond fastenings. 
 This mantle was similar to that of the empress, but much 
 heavier, weighing upwards of eighty pounds. 
 
 " ' All very fine, Monsieur le Dr61e,' said Napoleon, to 
 his favorite valet, playfully pinching his ear ; ' all very 
 fine ; but we shall see the accounts.' 
 
 ' ' At eleven precisely the cavalcade moved from the 
 Tuileries towards N6tre Dame. The imperial carriage, 
 drawn by eight bays, had been constructed with the entire 
 panelling of glass, a circumstance which accounts for the 
 mistake made by their Majesties, who first seated them- 
 selves, like criminals, with their backs to the horses. 
 Josephine was the first to discover this error, which she 
 
404 EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 instantly rectified by lightly assuming the proper position 
 saying at the same time to the emperor : 
 
 " ' Mon ami, unless you prefer riding vis-ti-vis, this is 
 your seat,' pointing to the rich cushion on the right. Na- 
 poleon, laughing heartily at his blunder, moved to the 
 place indicated. 
 
 "The procession advanced, attended by ten thousand 
 horsemen, the flower of ' Gallic chivalry,' who defiled 
 between double lines of infantry, selected from the brav- 
 est soldiers, and extending above a mile and a half ; while 
 more than four hundred thousand spectators filled up 
 every space whence a -lance could be obtained. 
 
 " The thunders of innumerable artillery, the acclamations 
 of the assembled multitude, expressed the general enthu- 
 siasm ; and, as if to light up the gorgeous spectacle, the 
 sun suddenly broke through the mists which till then had 
 hung heavily over the city. The cortege stopped at the 
 archiepiscopal palace, whence a temporary covered gallery, 
 hung with the banners of the sixteen cohorts of the Legion 
 of Honor, conducted into the interior of the cathedral 
 and to the throne. 
 
 "To this latter was an ascent of twenty- two semi- 
 circular steps, covered with blue cloth, gemmed with 
 golden bees, and crowded with the grand officers of the 
 empire. 
 
 " On the throne itself, hung with crimson velvet, under 
 a canop}' of the same, appeared Napoleon, with Josephine 
 on his left, attended by the princesses of the empire, and 
 on his right his two brothers, with the archchancellor and 
 archtreasurer. 
 
 " The religious ceremony continued nearly four hours, 
 enlivened by music composed for the occasion, and sung 
 by more than three hundred performers. The martial 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 405 
 
 band was still more numerous, which executed in the in- 
 tervals marches afterwards adopted and still used in the 
 armies of France. 
 
 " Napoleon, in the midst of the ceremony, stood up and 
 laid his hand upon the imperial crown, a simple diadem 
 of gold wrought into a chaplet of interwoven oak and 
 laurel, and placed it on his own head. Afterward, Na- 
 poleon took the crown destined for the empress, and, first 
 putting it for an instant on his own, placed it upon his 
 consort's brow, as she knelt before him on the platform of 
 the throne. 
 
 "The appearance of Josephine was at this moment 
 most touching. Even then she had not forgotten that she 
 was once an ' obscure woman ' ; tears of deep emotion 
 fell from her eyes ; she remained for a moment kneeling, 
 with hands crossed upon her bosom, then, slowly and 
 gracefully rising, fixed upon her husband a look of grati- 
 tude and tenderness. Napoleon returned the glance. It 
 was a silent but conscious interchange of the hopes, the 
 promises, and the memories of years. 
 
 " Cardinal Fesch, as grand almoner of France, now 
 placed the Gospels on the throne ; Napoleon stood up, 
 laid his hand on the sacred volume, and in his deep and 
 solemn tones pronounced the oaths with such firmness 
 and elevation of voice, that each word was distinctly 
 heard by the vast assembly. 
 
 " Shouts of 'Long live the emperor! God bless the 
 empress ! ' resounded through the cathedral, and were 
 caught and repeated by the multitude without ; the organ 
 pealed forth Te Deum, and the imposing ceremony was 
 over. 
 
 "The cortege re-entered the palace at half -past six in 
 the evening. Josephine retired to her closet to give vent 
 
406 EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 in secret to the fulness of her heart, and to implore the 
 protection of Him by whom kings reign." 
 
 Josephine's mode of life after she became empress is 
 thus described : "At the Tuileries, at St. Cloud, and dur- 
 ing the grand journeys of the court, her habit was to rise 
 at eight in the morning, and commence her toilet. While 
 her hair was being dressed, she would glance over half a 
 dozen journals, and receive her modistes, or such other 
 persons as she could not admit into the salon. When she 
 was fully dressed, which operation lasted ordinarily about 
 an hour, she would pass into the salon at ten or eleven 
 o'clock, where she found the dames de service and those 
 whom she had invited to breakfast with her. At noon 
 she sat at table at least an hour. Breakfast was in some 
 sort her only meal, for, on leaving her bed, she was in the 
 habit of taking nothing but a cup of tea with a little 
 citron. I do not speak of her breakfasting with the 
 emperor ; for he was always so engaged that he scarcely 
 had time to eat. After breakfast, if the weather was 
 good, she would ride out in a'caleche, and go to Malmai- 
 son or on a hunting party. 
 
 4 ' In case she did not go out, she received calls from all 
 such persons as had obtained the promise of a meeting, of 
 which she was advised either by the dame d'honneur, or 
 the chamberlain de service. These two functionaries could 
 introduce only such persons as the empress was unac- 
 quainted with, or knew but slightly, whilst all the ladies 
 who were admitted to her court came whenever they 
 pleased, without a card of invitation, unless there was a 
 concert or a spectacle, a matter appertaining to the em- 
 peror's chief chamberlain. 
 
 "From breakfast until four o'clock, Josephine would 
 receive two or three private visits in her separate apart- 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 407 
 
 ment, or repose upon a sofa ; at four she retired to her 
 cabinet, undressed, went to reading, and took a little re- 
 freshment. This lasted till five, when a second toilet 
 commenced. She rarely received a call at this time, 
 because it was the hour at which the emperor came, unless 
 engaged in council." 
 
 M'lle Avrillion, femme de chambre of the Empress 
 Josephine, tells several amusing stories regarding these 
 visits of Napoleon while his wife was making her grande 
 toilette; and the many suggestions he made as to the be- 
 comingness of certain attire, and his marked antipathy to 
 some styles. The poor femme de chambre dreaded these 
 visits as much as Josephine enjoyed them, for the em- 
 peror would always turn the entire wardrobe topsy-turvy 
 in making the selections of his favorite costumes, and the 
 jewel-caskets would suffer equal disarrangement. On one 
 occasion, when Josephine had unconsciously donned an 
 attire displeasing to the taste of her husband, he ruthlessly 
 spattered ink upon the obnoxious gown, so that the amia- 
 ble empress was obliged to remove the offending robe, 
 and array herself to please her particular lord. 
 
 The emperor and empress usually dined together alone 
 at six o'clock, and afterwards Josephine again entered 
 the salon, where she found the dames de service. In the 
 evening, the ministers, marshals, generals, and others 
 made their calls. Josephine conversed with ease with 
 every one, now and then playing a game of backgammon 
 or whist. If the emperor came in, which was never 
 before nine o'clock, he remained only about a quarter of 
 an hour, unless he wished to form a party at play, and 
 then he would appoint the persons to compose it. His 
 party always consisted of ladies, never of gentlemen.. 
 But woe betide his partner ! for such was the preoccupa- 
 
408 EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 tion of his mind that he paid no attention to the card he 
 was playing, and did not notice his mistakes. No one 
 dared to make any remark upon his mode of playing. 
 After going through with this kind of game, the emperor 
 left the apartment, Josephine meanwhile remaining in 
 the salon until it was time to retire. 
 
 At Malmaison, the only difference in her mode of life 
 was that she saw somewhat less company, and spent much 
 time in walking through the delightful grounds of this 
 rustic retreat. She had established at Malmaison a 
 botanical garden, a menagerie, and a school of agricul- 
 ture. Josephine preserved her simple tastes and her love 
 for rural life even after she became empress. One of her 
 greatest delights was the embellishment of her beautiful 
 gardens. She was well versed in botany and natural 
 history, and France and Europe are indebted to her for 
 the camellia. Napoleon's happiest days were spent at 
 Malmaison ; and after the divorce, he continued to visit 
 Josephine at this retreat. He would lead her into the 
 park, remain an hour or two, bring her back to the salon, 
 and then get into his carriage. She received him with 
 perfect politeness and dignity of manner, going forward 
 to meet him ; and when he left, accompanying him to the 
 door of the vestibule. 
 
 The appearance of Josephine after she became empress, 
 is thus described: "Her features were small and finely 
 modelled, the curves tending rather to fulness and the 
 profile inclining to Grecian, but without any statue-like 
 coldness of outline. The habitual character of her coun- 
 tenance was a placid sweetness, which perhaps would 
 have given at first an impression of lack of energy. But 
 this could have been for an instant only, for the real 
 charm of this mild countenance resided in its power of 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 409 
 
 varied expression, changing with each vicissitude of 
 thought and sentiment. ' Never,' says a very honest 
 admirer, ' did any woman better justify the saying, The 
 eyes are the mirror of the soul.' Josephine's were of 
 a deep blue, clear and brilliant, even imposing in their 
 expression when turned fully upon any one ; but in her 
 usual manner they lay half concealed beneath their long 
 and silky eyelashes. She had a habit of looking thus 
 with a mild, subdued glance upon those she loved, throw- 
 ing into her regard such winning tenderness as might not 
 easily be resisted ; and even in his darkest moods, Napo- 
 leon confessed its tranquillizing power. Josephine's long 
 hair ' was glossy chestnut brown,' whose sunny richness 
 harmonized delightfully with a clear and transparent com- 
 plexion and neck of almost dazzling whiteness. Her eye- 
 brows were a shade darker, arching regularly, and pencilled 
 with extreme delicacy. The perfect modulation of her 
 voice constituted one of her most pleasing attractions, and 
 rendered her conversation extremely captivating." 
 
 It was difficult for Napoleon ever to resist the persua- 
 sive voice of Josephine. 
 
 On the eve of Napoleon's departure for Germany, in 
 April, 1809, having taken leave of Josephine, she had re- 
 tired to her apartment, and thrown herself upon her bed 
 in deep distress, because she could not obtain his consent 
 to allow her to accompany him to Strasburg. 
 
 The emperor, returning unexpectedly to her room at 
 the last moment, said to Josephine : 
 
 "You have pla}'ed the part of empress long enough; 
 you must now become again the wife of a general. I 
 leave immediately ; you will accompany me to Strasburg." 
 
 Josephine herself thus tells the story : 
 
 u I was not at all prepared for the journey, for only a 
 
410 EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 few days before he had refused to permit me to accom- 
 pany him on the campaign. At three o'clock in the 
 morning we were travelling speedily on the Alsace road. 
 My husband scarcely gave me time to throw on a night- 
 cloak, and all my women had left the chateau en desha- 
 biltt; so that when morning came, the officers who accom- 
 panied us could scarcely preserve their gravity at seeing 
 us in such a plight. Napoleon was extreme in every 
 thing, and it was never until the decisive moment came 
 that he expressed his final resolution. I had been so long 
 accustomed to his singular character, that I ceased to be 
 astonished at the striking contrasts which it exhibited. 
 Our journey was full of ga}*ety ; we met sundry original 
 characters on the wa} T , who furnished us abundance of 
 amusement. We arrived at Strasburg. My husband had 
 a secret presentiment that he should return victorious. 
 He said to me, on leaving me : 
 
 "'Josephine watches over all that I love, and my 
 guardian angel will never cease to utter her prayers for 
 the safety and success of her husband.' 
 
 " He knew me well, that mortal whose astonishing 
 destiny had opened to him the road to the most splendid 
 throne on earth. I cherished not a thought, I formed not 
 a wish, which was not directed to his glory. If certain 
 political drones have dared accuse me of levity in my 
 conduct, let those unjust censors remember that it was 
 under the mask of sincere friendship that I sought to 
 overawe certain powerful personages. Had I regarded 
 them with an eye of indifference, they might have sur- 
 rounded Napoleon with perils from which no human pru- 
 dence could have rescued him. Often did I, in concert 
 with him, carry on a correspondence. I flattered all par- 
 ties, for I love to do justice to all. When Napoleon sup- 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 411 
 
 posed he had grounds of complaint against any of his 
 military officers, I warmly pleaded their cause. He would 
 tell me : 
 
 " i It depends only on me whether I will be rid of that 
 officer. I have only to pronounce his doom.' 
 
 " ' You are right,' I would reply ; you are right ; but 
 such language does not become your generous and noble 
 nature.' 
 
 " ' And who can oppose me in it ! ' was his quick reply. 
 
 "'Yourself, Napoleon. 'T would arm against your 
 person a multitude of brave men who are necessary to 
 you. Certainly, a great man should fear nothing ; but 
 he captivates all hearts when he pardons. The first 
 function of kings and the firmest pillar of a throne is 
 justice.'" 
 
 Thus Josephine's influence was always on the side of 
 mercy and justice. She possessed the most perfect tact, 
 which rendered her address irresistibly winning when 
 partisans were to be gained for Napoleon. She was en- 
 tirely engrossed in the welfare and glory of him to whom 
 her heart was most unselfishly devoted and loyal. She 
 gained for him friends on every side ; as Napoleon him- 
 self acknowledged, saying, "I conquer empires ; but Jose- 
 phine wins hearts." Bonaparte was never so prosperous, 
 so well-served, and so well-beloved, as during the years 
 when he was blessed with the counsels and aided by the 
 adoring love of the faithful woman, who was always his 
 best adviser and most constant friend. 
 
 When on one occasion Josephine warned Napoleon to 
 be on his guard against the advice which might be given 
 him by his flatterers, he replied : 
 
 " You are right, Madame, I know how to guard myself 
 against all their influences. You are my wife and friend. 
 
412 EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 I want none other. Your lot is bound to mine forever ; 
 and woe to that one of us who shall be the first to break 
 our oath." 
 
 And yet in 1809, he could not guard himself against 
 the " bees " of his court, who hummed in his ears : 
 
 " You must separate from the Empress Josephine. A 
 princess of the blood of the Caesars will esteem it a glory 
 to give heirs to the great Napoleon. Then will his dy- 
 nasty be established forever." 
 
 The divorce in 1809 was brought about by the joint 
 efforts of all the members of the Bonaparte family, aided 
 by some of Napoleon's most confidential servants, whom 
 Josephine, either as Madame Bonaparte, or empress, had 
 failed to make her friends, notwithstanding her ceaseless 
 endeavors to harmonize all the hostile elements around 
 her. Even as early as the time when Napoleon was in 
 Egypt, these intriguers first tried to lay snares for the 
 unsuspicious and magnanimous Josephine, and various 
 scandals were originated and reported to the absent 
 Bonaparte. 
 
 Junot was made their tool either willingly or unwillingly, 
 and the evil whispers became louder and louder. During 
 the first months of the Egyptian expedition, Bonaparte's 
 letters to his wife were affectionate and confiding. But 
 the poison was soon at work, and the rumors which Junot 
 had repeated to Bonaparte roused his jealous anger. 
 
 Poor Josephine knew naught of these dread scandals, 
 until the letters received from her husband, accusing her 
 of errors of which she was guiltless, stabbed her to the 
 heart. Her appeals against these injurious aspersions 
 were in accordance with her own noble nature. We can 
 anly quote a few lines from her letter to Napoleon : 
 
 " Can it be possible, my friend? Is the letter indeed 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 413 
 
 yours which I have just received ? Scarcely can I give it 
 credence, on comparing the present with those now before 
 me, and to which your love gave so many charms ! My 
 eyes cannot doubt that those pages which rend my heart 
 are too surely yours; but my soul refuses to admit that 
 yours could have dictated those lines, which to the ardent 
 joy experienced on hearing from you have caused to suc- 
 ceed the mortal grief of reading the expressions of a dis- 
 pleasure, the more afflicting to me that it must have 
 proved a source of fearful pain to you. 
 
 "I am entirely ignorant in what I have offended, to 
 create an enemy so determined to ruin my repose by in- 
 terrupting yours ; but surely it must be a great reason 
 which can thus induce some one unceasingly to renew 
 against me calumnies of such a specious nature as to be 
 admitted, even for a moment, by one who hitherto has 
 deemed me worthy of his entire affection and confidence. 
 
 "Oh, my friend! in place of lending an ear to im- 
 postors, who, from motives which I cannot explain, seek 
 to ruin our happiness, why do you not rather reduce them 
 to silence by the recital of your benefits to a woman 
 whose character has never incurred the suspicion of in- 
 gratitude ? On hearing what you have done for me and 
 for my children, my traducers would be silent. Your 
 conduct, admired as it has been throughout the whole of 
 Europe, has in my heart but awakened deeper adoration 
 of the husband who made choice of me, poor as I was, 
 and unhappy. Every step which you take adds to the 
 splendor of the name I bear and is such a moment 
 seized to persuade you that I no longer love you ? What 
 absurdity, or rather what vileness, on the part of your 
 companions, jealous as they are of your marked superi- 
 ority ! I tremble when I think of the dangers which sur- 
 
414 EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 round you. God knows when or where this letter may 
 reach you. May it restore to }'ou a repose which you 
 ought never to have foregone, and more than ever give you 
 an assurance, that while I live you will be dear to me as on 
 the day of our last separation. Farewell, my only friend ! 
 Confide in me, love me, and receive a thousand tender 
 caresses." 
 
 This touching letter, from which we have only quoted a 
 few lines, was probably not received by Bonaparte until 
 after his return to France. And Napoleon returning to 
 Paris found Josephine absent, for she had started to meet 
 him in wild impatience to welcor him ; but missing him 
 on the road, he arrived home first and found his house 
 deserted : but his mother, sisters, and sisters-in-law, and 
 in short every member of his family, except Louis, who 
 had attended Madame Bonaparte to Lyons, came to him 
 immediately, and insinuated the basest scandals about his 
 devoted wife, who was only absent because she had flown 
 to meet him. But the impression made upon him by his 
 deserted home and the false accusations of his family 
 were profound and terrible ; and nine years afterwards, 
 when the tie between himself and Josephine was broken, 
 he showed that he had not forgotten that time. From not 
 finding his wife with his family, he inferred that she felt 
 herself unworthy of his presence and feared to meet the 
 man she had wronged ; and he considered her journey to 
 Lyons a mere pretence, so cruelly had these evil slan- 
 derers blackened her lovely and devoted character. After 
 the reconciliation which followed, Bonaparte seemed for 
 a time to have forgotten these evil lies ; but his family 
 were intensely chagrined. 
 
 Madame Pauline Le Clerc was most vexed at the par- 
 don which Napoleon had granted his wife. Bonaparte's 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 415 
 
 mother was also very ill-pleased, for she had never liked 
 Josephine. Madame Bacchiocchi gave free vent to her 
 ill-humor and disdain ; and Bonaparte's brothers were at 
 open war with Josephine. No wonder that with such a 
 host of evil-minded, envious relations, poor Josephine was 
 most terribly maligned ! Bonaparte's brothers, desirous 
 of obtaining entire dominion over Napoleon, strenuously 
 endeavored to lessen the influence which Josephine pos- 
 sessed over him. 
 
 Napoleon would probably have adhered to his first i(^a 
 of adopting Eugene de Beauharnais as his successor, had it 
 not been for his own family, all eager for wealth and 
 honors, all jealous of any favors shown to Josephine or 
 her children, all of them constantly urging a divorce. 
 
 " Divorce her at once," Joseph Bonaparte exclaimed; 
 "you are not married to her. The woman may die, and 
 it will then be said you have poisoned her, that you 
 found it to your interest to do so." 
 
 Napoleon was staggered at these monstrous suggestions. 
 His countenance became of a deathlike paleness as these 
 terrible insinuations fell upon his ear. After a moment or 
 two of silence he murmured : 
 
 " You have forced on me an idea which would never 
 have occurred to me, and with it the possibility of a 
 divorce." 
 
 Thus was the evil working, which should end in the cruel 
 blow to Josephine and the downfall of Napoleon. Years 
 elapsed before Napoleon was induced to act upon these 
 suggestions, but the tempters had begun their diabolical 
 work. 
 
 As Napoleon's marriage with Josephine had at first 
 been only a civil ceremony, the religious service having 
 been only performed at the time of the coronation, when 
 
416 EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 religious worship had been reinstated in France, Joseph 
 Bonaparte basely insinuated that the tie between them was 
 not binding ; and as by some mistake the necessary 
 witnesses had not been present at the after religious 
 ceremony, and a signature was said to be wanting to 
 make the certificate of marriage complete, these circum- 
 stances were afterwards laid stress upon, in declaring that 
 their marriage had been irregular and could therefore be 
 annulled. And either by evil intent or inadvertence a 
 notice of the religious ceremony did not appear in the 
 Moniteur, which described the coronation at great 
 length. Thus was the web spun by the political spiders 
 closer and closer around their poor innocent victim, Jose- 
 phine, and she became the subject of their vilest plots. 
 
 Napoleon's attachment to Josephine withstood all sug- 
 gestions during the period preceding the Empire, and Jose- 
 phine herself afterwards declared, "that unless urged by 
 others, he would not of himself have thought of a separa- 
 tion." 
 
 But at length, instigated by Fouche* and his own rela- 
 tions and other evil advisers, Napoleon determined to 
 divorce Josephine. This same wily Pouche" hinted to Jose- 
 phine her coming doom, and advised that she should first 
 broach the subject to the emperor ; but Josephine indig- 
 nantly refused. 
 
 " It was on Sunday, on returning from church, that 
 Fouche*, the minister of the police, leading Josephine to the 
 embrasure of a window in the chateau at Fontainebleau, 
 gave her the first shock on the subject of the divorce, 
 which did not take place until two years after." 
 
 The family of Bonaparte became more openly hostile to 
 Josephine. One of the writers of her memoirs says : 
 
 "Joseph could not endure her, while on the other hand, 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 417 
 
 his wife rendered her the fullest justice. As to Madame 
 Murat, she was by no means careful to conceal her thoughts, 
 and on many occasions sought to humiliate Napoleon's 
 wife. Madame Bacchiocchi, Napoleon's eldest sister, con- 
 sidered Josephine as the earliest instrument of her brother's 
 greatness. 'But,' said she, 'the moment her power 
 becomes too great it must be broken down, and that with- 
 out pity.' She was one of the first to advise that un- 
 righteous separation, which worked so much prejudice to 
 the emperor and his whole family. Madame Letitia, 
 Napoleon's mother, occasioned real trouble and vexation 
 to her daughter-in-law. Their feelings were in perpetual 
 opposition. The one was remarkable for her acts of 
 benevolence ; the other for her extreme parsimony. The 
 mother loudly disapproved of the luxury which reigned at 
 her son's court, and charged the fault to Josephine." 
 
 When Joseph Bonaparte became king of Naples, his 
 sister Caroline, then Grand Duchess of Berg, avoided as 
 much as possible her modest sister-in-law, the queen of 
 Naples. But finding herself obliged to give her the title 
 of " Your Majesty," she dared at length to complain to 
 Napoleon that he had not yet given her a crown. Napo- 
 leon replied : " Your complaint astonishes me, madame ! 
 To hear you, one might suppose I had deprived you of 
 your right of succession to the throne of your ancestor." 
 
 No one of Napoleon's evil advisers was more crafty, 
 insidious, and unscrupulous than Fouche". Like a Meph- 
 istopheles, with sardonic smile he held his fingers on 
 the keys which played the tune of politics. Through his 
 minions, the police, he entered even the closed doors of 
 his Majesty's cabinet, and caught the rumors which 
 dropped in idle gossip from the rosy lips of the beauties 
 of the court. 
 
418 EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 After his cool affront to Josephine, in endeavoring to 
 persuade her that she should herself suggest to Napoleon 
 the divorce, she begged the emperor to remove Fouche" 
 from his office of minister of police ; but Bonaparte, with 
 strange blindness, kept the wily serpent near him, and 
 banished from his presence his own guardian angel. And 
 when at last he had been stung himself by the treacherous 
 fangs of the insidious viper, and Napoleon became at 
 length convinced that Fouche" was maintaining a corre- 
 spondence with "England, through his spies, the emperor 
 dismissed him ; but it was too late. 
 
 The same Fouche* who had thrust the dagger into the 
 heart of Josephine, afterwards proved to be one of the 
 chief instigators of the plots which caused the second ab- 
 dication of Napoleon. Bourrienne thus pithily describes 
 him : 
 
 " Fondie" had opinions, but he belonged to no party; 
 and his political success is explained by the readiness 
 with which he always served the party he knew must tri- 
 umph, and which he himself overthrew in its turn. He 
 maintained himself in favor, from the days of blood and 
 terror until the time of the second restoration, only by 
 .abandoning and sacrificing those who were attached to 
 him. In all things he looked only to himself ; and to this 
 egotism he sacrificed both subjects and governments. 
 
 " Such were the secret causes of the sway exercised by 
 Fouche" during the Convention, the Directory, the Empire, 
 and after the return of the Bourbons. He helped to 
 found and to destroy every one of these successive 
 governments." 
 
 Napoleon afterwards realized some of the treachery of 
 this archtraitor, and thus spoke of him at St. Helena : 
 
 u Fouch6 is a miscreant of all colors; a priest, a 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 419 
 
 Terrorist, and one who took an active part in many bloody 
 scenes of the Revolution. He is a man who can worm all 
 your secrets out of you with an air of calmness and of 
 unconcern." 
 
 What wonder that poor unsuspicious Josephine was be- 
 trayed by such a Judas ! 
 
 This smiling Mephistopheles might thus have coun- 
 selled with his crafty soul : 
 
 "And so her Majesty beseeches that I be dismissed! 
 We'll see, my lady, whether you or I shall conquer in 
 this contest ! You think you hold your husband's heart ; 
 but I hold the ear of his proud ambition. Which, think 
 you, will prevail? You are surrounded by his relations, 
 who hate you with envious and jealous hatred, than which 
 there is none more bitter. I am their confidant. Ha ! 
 methinks my cards in hand shall win the game, even 
 against the Queen of Hearts!" 
 
 Bourrienne relates the following conversation with 
 Fouche, which bears upon this point: 
 
 "I said a few words to him about Bonaparte's regret 
 at not having children. My object was to learn Fouche's 
 opinion on this subject ; and it was not without a feeling 
 of indignation I heard him say, ' It is to be hoped the 
 empress will soon die. Her death will remove many diffi- 
 culties. Sooner or later he must take a wife who will 
 bear him a child ; for as long as he has no direct heir, 
 there is every chance that his death will be the signal for 
 a revolution. His brothers are perfectly incapable of 
 filling his place, and a new party would rise up in favor 
 of the Bourbons, which must be prevented above all 
 things.' " 
 
 And yet this same Fondie* afterwards intrigued for the 
 return of the Bourbons. 
 
420 EMPRESS JOSEPHINE 
 
 Just before Napoleon signed his second abdication, a 
 provisional government was established with Fouche" at 
 the head. This crafty schemer was at that time the agent 
 of Louis XVIII. and of the Duke of Wellington ; and so 
 it was Fouche*, who, as a leader in the Chamber of Depu- 
 ties, forced Napoleon to sign the second abdication. The 
 Marquis de Bonnay wrote concerning his intrigues : 
 
 " I know for a certainty that M. de M., who was sent 
 to Vienna by Fouche*, has taken part in a dialogue to the 
 following effect : 
 
 " c Do not go to war with us, and we will rid you of that 
 man.' 
 
 " ' Well, then ; rid us of him at once/ 
 
 " ' Would you like the king of Rome, or a regency? ' 
 
 " ' The Duke of Orleans?' 
 " 'No!' 
 
 " Well, Louis XVIII. ? since it must be so. But no 
 nobility, no priestcraft, and above all, no Blacas.' 
 
 " ' Begin by ridding us of Bonaparte and all his race.'" 
 
 And rid them of Bonaparte, Fouche did ; and again 
 this wily diplomat, or base traitor, according as the 
 reader sides with one or the other party, came once 
 more to the front, and received again the office of minister 
 of police under Louis XVIII. Thus Fouche had played 
 his cards and won, and Josephine and Napoleon had 
 lost. Surely the title which Lanfrey applies to Napoleon 
 would most fittingly describe Fouche*, "cm incorrigible 
 gambler " 
 
 During their private conferences, previous to the direct 
 announcement of his determination, Napoleon endeavored 
 to persuade Josephine of the political necessity of a sepa- 
 ration ; veiling his real intentions, so that they should ap- 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 421 
 
 pear only hints of the measure. Sometimes these vague 
 hints would be met by Josephine with tears and supplica- 
 tions ; at other times she would rise in calm dignity and 
 defend her claims with unanswerable facts and predic- 
 tions. There are several most interesting accounts given 
 of various conversations between them at different times, 
 before the final announcement. The following is perhaps 
 the most impressive. 
 
 On one occasion Josephine dared predict to him, that 
 the day he separated himself from her his bright star of 
 destiny should fade, and that their parting hour would be 
 the beginning of his downfall. 
 
 " You need," she said, " a friend, and you have noth- 
 ing but flatterers. Do you believe that your generals are 
 truly attached to you ? No ! the most of them only wait 
 a propitious moment to turn their arms against you. Do 
 you think they will, with unconcern, see the Emperor 
 Napoleon searching for a wife among the daughters of 
 kings ? No ! they have been bred in the same school as 
 yourself ; they have earned true nobility, at the price of 
 their blood ; and the blazonry upon their armor, of which 
 they are so justly proud, is but the evidence of valor 
 which has given them the prodigious power they now 
 enjoy in Europe. 
 
 "But remember! in you they but behold their equal. 
 If they sustain the glory of your throne, it is only because 
 your elevation seems their work. They believe you great, 
 because the rays of your grandeur are reflected by them- 
 selves. If they burn incense to you, they breathe with 
 delight the incense of a power which they share. But the 
 moment a foreign wife shall come and seat herself at 
 your side, the court will cease to be directed by the same 
 influence. You are too new a man to attach to your per- 
 
422 EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 son the ancient families. You may load them with favors ; 
 you have it in your power, and it is your duty to make 
 them forget the wrongs inseparable from the Revolution. 
 But beware you do not humble the old generals who 
 served their country before you. Banish from your halls 
 that too severe etiquette which was not made for them. 
 Their wives and children ought not to be made to blush, 
 either in your presence or in that of your future com- 
 panion. The sword of the brave will ever be your surest 
 safeguard. I myself have ever been careful to conciliate 
 all parties, and to be indulgent to all opinions ; so much 
 so, that, since your fortunes have become so wonderful, 
 I have in a manner taught your officers to forget the im- 
 mense distance which exists between General Bonaparte 
 and the Emperor Napoleon." 
 
 Some days before the divorce, Josephine is reported to 
 have thus addressed Napoleon : 
 
 "Bonaparte, even now you have no confidence in the 
 stability of your power. You want an ally ; and the 
 very sovereign whom you have lately vanquished, the 
 sovereign who has just grounds to hate you, sees himself 
 flattered by the very man who has so lately overrun his 
 country. If such an enormous sacrifice as the giving his 
 daughter to you in marriage be necessary to give peace 
 to his subjects, you cannot but know that he will secretly 
 despise you, and say to himself: 
 
 " ' The man who so lately made me tremble, who im- 
 posed such cruel conditions upon me, is on the eve of 
 some dreadful catastrophe. Did he suppose himself 
 firmly seated upon his throne, he would not need to resort 
 to a foreign alliance ; and the very circumstance that the 
 mighty conqueror is so anxious to obtain a companion of 
 illustrious birth, is evidence that he intends, should a 
 storm ever arise, to lean upon that foreign support.' " 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 423 
 
 It was indeed strange that the cry of the Revolution, 
 u Down with the Autrichienne ! " did not warn Napoleon 
 that it would be an impolitic action to place another Aus- 
 trian woman upon the throne of France. 
 
 The Empress Josephine, after having long dreaded the 
 terrible misfortune which at length overwhelmed her, was 
 totally unprepared for the shock when it fell. She had 
 for a time been lulled into a fancied security, and had 
 regained tranquillity just as the blow came. Nothing had 
 been done to prepare her for it. Even when all Europe 
 was talking of this probable event, and after negotiations 
 had been entered into regarding her successor, still no 
 direct word had been spoken to the poor victim of this 
 atrocious cruelty and perfidious crime. 
 
 The letter in which Napoleon told her of his approach- 
 ing arrival at Fontainebleau still exists. Its tone is par- 
 ticularly affectionate ; and he thus wrote : " lam feasting 
 on the thought of seeing thee again; I embrace thee. 
 Ever thine." These were his words sent from Nymphen- 
 burg, Oct. 21, 1809. When he arrived at Fontainebleau, 
 however, Josephine perceived that he was constrained 
 and cold, which alarmed her ; and the triumphant airs of 
 her sworn enemies, his sisters and brothers and mother, 
 who hastened to greet him with officious homage, betokened 
 that some new effront would soon be offered her. 
 
 While she was obliged to conceal beneath a smiling 
 countenance her consuming anxieties, in the midst of the 
 brilliant fetes of the court, she found that the communi- 
 cation between her suite of apartments and those of the 
 emperor had been closed by his orders, which announced 
 to her that her dreaded doom was nigh. 
 
 The Duchesse D'Abrantes gives this account of a visit 
 to Josephine just previous to the public announcement of 
 
424 EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 the divorce: "I had an interview with the empress at 
 Malmaison. I had sent her a plant from the Pyrenees, 
 and she wished me to see it in the hot-house. But in vain 
 she attempted to employ herself with those objects which 
 pleased her the most ; her eyes were frequently suffused 
 with tears ; she was pale, and her whole manner marked 
 indisposition. ' It is very cold*! ' she said, drawing her 
 shawl about her ; but, alas ! .it was the chill of grief creep- 
 ing about her heart, like the cold hand of death. ' Madame 
 Junot,' she said, ' remember what I say to you this day 
 here, in this hot-house, this place which is now a para- 
 dise, but which may soon become a desert to me, remem- 
 ber that this separation will be my death, and it is they 
 who will have killed me ! I shall be driven in disgrace 
 from him who has given me a crown ! Yet God is my 
 witness that I love him more than my life, and much more 
 than that throne, that crown, which he has given me.' 
 The empress may have appeared more beautiful, but never 
 more attractive than at that moment. If Napoleon had 
 seen her then, surely he could never have divorced her." 
 
 Lanfrey thus comments upon this event: "On the 
 evening of Nov. 30, the prefect of the palace was 
 on duty in an apartment adjoining the drawing-room 
 where the emperor and Josephine were sitting, when he 
 heard piercing cries, and with amazement recognized the 
 voice of the empress. A few moments afterwards the 
 door opened, and Napoleon having called him in, he 
 beheld the empress suffering from a violent nervous at- 
 tack, and uttering exclamations of distress and despair. 
 He then helped Napoleon to carry her into her own apart- 
 ment. In fact, the much-dreaded explosion had taken 
 place. The emperor had at first determined to await the 
 arrival of the Prince Eugene in Paris, in order that the 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 425 
 
 presence and consolations of the son whom Josephine so 
 tenderly loved might soften the bitterness of his intended 
 communication. When he announced the terrible news to 
 her who alone was ignorant of it, to the woman who, by 
 having brought him among her wedding presents the chief 
 command of the army in Italy, had so eminently contrib- 
 uted towards his exalted fortune, eight days had already 
 elapsed since he had desired Champagny to ask for him 
 the hand of the Emperor Alexander's sister. It was Rus- 
 sia, his ally, not Austria, whom he thought it better to 
 address first. 
 
 "As the sad scene which had revealed the domestic 
 trouble in the imperial family was soon publicly known, 
 the divorce became the subject of conversation at the 
 court and throughout the nation. The unfortunate 
 Josephine was supported, it is true, by the affection of 
 her children, who felt the blow scarcely less keenly than 
 herself ; but being convinced of the absolute futility of 
 resistance, she had, after the deepest anguish, submitted, 
 rather than resigned herself to that strong will which 
 henceforward became inflexible. 
 
 " In order to feign consent, it was necessary that she 
 should show herself in public. Hence she was dragged 
 about to all the grand official receptions, and the scandal- 
 loving public watched her closely, in order to note the ex- 
 tent and progress of her misfortune. The echoes of the 
 palace more than once repeated her sobs and complaints ; 
 but it was desirable that this victim of pride and policy 
 should appear content to sacrifice herself, and she was 
 not allowed the satisfaction even of a display of grief. 
 In the fetes given at the commencement of December, to 
 celebrate the anniversary of the coronation, Paris beheld 
 her, with death in her heart and a smile on her lips, bear- 
 
426 EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 ing the despair which was a torture to her, with grace, 
 playing her part of sovereign for the last time ; surrounded 
 by her children, who, to use the expression of a contem- 
 porary, were dancing at their mother's funeral." 
 
 Upon his arrival in Paris, after the blow had fallen 
 upon poor Josephine, Prince Eugene had a mournful in- 
 terview with his afflicted mother. 
 
 u 'Tis not," said that noble woman in the agony of her 
 heart, " 'tis not that I regret the throne, my son, but I 
 feel that I am leaving the emperor a prey to the evil- 
 minded men who seek his ruin. I shall be no longer here 
 to warn him against their false-hearted counsels. The 
 task reserved for me henceforth will be to pity him, and 
 to pray for him and the French people whom I love. My 
 children will imitate my example" 
 
 Bourrienne gives the following words of Josephine, re- 
 garding her divorce : 
 
 " I was ushered into the drawing-room at Malmaison, 
 where I found Josephine and Hortense. When I entered, 
 Josephine stretched out her hand to me, saying, ' Ah, 
 my friend ! ' These words she pronounced with deep 
 emotion, and tears prevented her from continuing. She. 
 threw herself on the ottoman on the left of the fireplace, 
 and beckoned me to sit down beside her. Hortense stood 
 by the fireplace, endeavoring to conceal her tears. After 
 a struggle to overcome her feelings, Josephine said : 
 
 " ' I have drained my cup of misery. He has cast me 
 off ! forsaken me ! He conferred upon me the vain 
 title of empress only to render my fall the more marked. 
 Ah ! I knew the destiny that awaited me ; for what would 
 he not sacrifice to his ambition ! ' As she finished these 
 words, one of Queen Hortense's ladies entered with a 
 message to her ; Hortense withdrew, so that I was left 
 alone with Josephine. 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 427 
 
 " She seemed to wish for the relief of disclosing her 
 sorrows. Josephine confirmed what Duroc had told me 
 respecting the two apartments at Fontainebleau ; then, 
 coming to the period when Bonaparte had declared to her 
 the necessity of a separation, she said : 
 
 " ' My dear Bourrienne, during all the years you were 
 with us you know I made you the confidant of my 
 thoughts, and kept you acquainted with my sad fore- 
 bodings. They are now cruelly fulfilled. I acted the 
 part of a good wife to the very last. I have suffered all, 
 and I am resigned ! 
 
 " ' What fortitude did it require latterly to endure my 
 situation, when, though no longer his wife, I was obliged 
 to seem so in the eyes of the world ! With what eyes do 
 courtiers look upon a repudiated wife ! I was in a state 
 of vague uncertainty worse than death, until the fatal 
 day when he at length avowed to me what I had long 
 before read in his looks ! 
 
 "'On the 30th of November, 1809, we were dining 
 together as usual. I had not uttered a word during that 
 sad dinner, and he had broken silence only to ask one of 
 the servants what it was o'clock. As soon as Bonaparte 
 had taken his coffee, he dismissed all the attendants, and 
 I remained alone with him. I saw in the expression of 
 his countenance what was passing in his mind, and I 
 knew that my hour was come. 
 
 "'He stepped up to me, he was trembling, and I 
 shuddered ; he took my hand, pressed it to his heart, and 
 after gazing at me a few moments in silence, he uttered 
 these fatal words : 
 
 " ' " Josephine ! my dear Josephine ! You know how 
 I have loved you ! . . . To you, to } 7 ou alone, I owe the 
 only moments of happiness I have tasted in this world. 
 
428 EMPRESS JOSEPHINE.- 
 
 But, Josephine, my destiny is not to be controlled by my 
 will. My dearest affections must yield to the interests of 
 France." 
 
 " ' " Say no more ! " I exclaimed, " I understand you : 
 I expected this ; but the blow is not the less mortal." 
 
 u ' I could not say another word,' continued Josephine. 
 4 1 know not what happened after. I seemed, to lose my 
 reason; I became insensible, and when I recovered I 
 found nryself in my chamber. Your friend Corvisart and 
 my poor daughter were with me. Bonaparte came to see 
 me in the evening ; and oh ! Bourrienne, how can I de- 
 scribe to you what I felt at sight of him ! even the interest 
 he evinced for me seemed an additional cruelty. Alas ! I 
 had good reason to fear ever becoming an empress ! ' 
 
 The 15th of December, 1809, was the fatal day ap- 
 pointed for the consummation of the divorce. The im- 
 perial council of state was convened, and the official 
 announcements of the coming separation were made. 
 Napoleon's address on this occasion is well known. The 
 prepared response which Josephine attempted to read in 
 acceptation of this cruel decree, was too much for even 
 her marvellous fortitude to endure ; and Eugene was 
 obliged to take the paper from his weeping mother, and 
 finish for her the heart-breaking avowal which her quiver- 
 ing lips refused to utter. 
 
 Upon the following day the council was again assem- 
 bled with the imperial family in the grand salon at the 
 Tuileries, to witness the legal consummation of the 
 divorce. 
 
 All were in court costume. Napoleon entered the 
 apartment, clothed in the imposing robes of state. Pale 
 as a corpse, he stood leaning against a pillar, with folded 
 arms, motionless as a statue. 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 429 
 
 Again the poor victim of this cruel sacrifice must ap- 
 pear. The keen-edged knife of the political guillotine of 
 blind ambition must this day perform its final act of 
 political decapitation. 
 
 The door opens ; a sad figure appears. Some reports 
 clothe this sorrowful, weeping woman in white muslin ; 
 others in black satin. As the latter seems more fitting to 
 this funereal scene, we incline to that supposition, which 
 would surely appear more appropriate than bridal white 
 for this moment of public repudiation. 
 
 The graceful woman, bending like a weeping-willow 
 before the storm of sorrow which is crushing her to the 
 earth, walks slowly to the seat prepared for her, followed 
 by her son and daughter. The pallor of death is upon her 
 brow. A coffin would have seemed less cruel than the 
 mocking chair of state waiting for her. Had she been 
 Marie Antoinette upon the scaffold, she could scarcely 
 have suffered more ; for Marie Antoinette could at least 
 love her dead husband without reproach ; while the living 
 husband of poor Josephine holds in his hand the cruel 
 dagger which is piercing her bleeding heart, and his 
 word tears from her brow her rightful royal diadem of 
 wifehood. 
 
 The iniquitous decree is read. The quivering victim 
 must pronounce her own sentence. Pressing her hand- 
 kerchief to her streaming e} r es for a moment, she slowly 
 rises, and the oath of acceptance passes her pallid lips. 
 The pen is handed to her, and she signs her own death- 
 warrant; and then glides like a mournful spectre from 
 the grand salon of state, the imperial grandeur of which, 
 together with the presence of her triumphant foes, mock 
 her unutterable woe. 
 
 It is the evening of the same day. The weeping woman 
 
430 EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 has still another heart-rending duty to perform. She must 
 take her final farewell of the man who has stabbed her to 
 the heart ; of the husband whom she still adores with 
 every heart-beat of her loyal, loving soul ; of the emperor 
 who has crowned her, only to tear from her brow his royal 
 gift and bestow it upon another. Was ever woman's soul 
 torn with such conflicting emotions ? Pride and love have 
 fought a terrible battle within her heart, since the cruel 
 public sacrifice of the morning. But love has conquered ; 
 yes, so royally conquered, that there is no place left in 
 her soul for aught but overpowering devotion to the adored 
 husband of her heart. 
 
 Napoleon had retired to his apartments. His valet was 
 about to be dismissed for the night when the door opens, 
 and upon the threshold stands Josephine ! more irresist- 
 ible in her infinite sorrow than in her most imperial robes 
 of dazzling splendor. Her tender eyes are glistening 
 through her tears ; her hair falls in disordered locks around 
 her quivering face ; her hands are clasped in agonizing 
 despair. For one moment she gazes upon the face of him 
 who has been her life and happiness; then, forgetting 
 all but her overpowering love, she throws herself into his 
 arms, exclaiming, in tones of commingled tenderness and 
 heart-broken anguish, " My husband ! My husband ! " 
 
 Napoleon was overpowered at last. With streaming 
 eyes he beckoned to his valet to retire, and the husband and 
 wife were left alone for their last sad interview. When 
 an hour afterwards Josephine retired from the apartment, 
 still sobbing with irresistible emotion, the valet entered to 
 remove the lights, and found Napoleon with face buried 
 in the pillow and form convulsed with choking sobs. 
 
 The next morning, at eleven o'clock, Josephine was to 
 bid a last adieu to the Tuileries. At the appointed hour she 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 431 
 
 appeared, heavily veiled and leaning upon the arm of one 
 of her lady attendants. Silently she walked through the 
 spacious halls, where all the household had assembled to 
 take final leave of their loved mistress. Not a word was 
 spoken ; and as Josephine entered the close carriage she 
 waved an adieu to the weeping friends around her, and 
 without another glance at the grand palace which had 
 witnessed her proud happiness and unutterable woe, she 
 was driven rapidly to her future sad retreat at Malmaison. 
 
 But the envious hate of the Bonaparte family received 
 its just reward on the occasion of the marriage of Napo- 
 leon to Maria Louisa ; and they were then obliged to 
 swallow a more bitter pill of mortified pride than any 
 which had been administered to them during the reign of 
 Josephine. 
 
 Madame Mere Bonaparte and the queens of Holland 
 and Naples, the princesses Eliza and Pauline, and the 
 kings Louis and Jerome, were gathered to discuss the 
 coming marriage ceremony of the future empress. Murat, 
 the handsome king of Naples, entered, attired in his rich 
 gala dress of fawn-colored satin embroidered with silver, 
 and wearing a purple mantle lined with ermine and clasped 
 with jewels. The hilt and sheath of his sword sparkled 
 with gems, and his belt was covered with rubies. He 
 wore a sort of cap, of purple, surrounded by an open 
 crown of precious stones, while his boots were of purple 
 velvet edged with fur, and his knee-breeches and vest 
 were of white satin. As he entered the apartment, so 
 proud and so handsome, all of his family exclaimed : 
 44 What a handsome dress ! " 
 
 " Yes, I flatter myself! " said Murat, gazing into the 
 long mirror before which la Princesse Borgliese was paying 
 court to her own beauty ; " but do you know, fair ladies, 
 
432 EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 that you are about to be disgraced in the eyes of all 
 Europe? " continued Murat, holding up a printed paper. 
 
 " What is it? " exclaimed all in a breath. 
 
 "Read! mesdames les reines!" replied Murat, 
 " and you will learn that all, queens as you are, you will 
 to-morrow, in the chapel of the Louvre, during the mar- 
 riage ceremony, have the honor of bearing the train of the 
 imperial mantle of your august sister-in-law." 
 
 " Napoleon can never request *of us such an insulting 
 office," said one. 
 
 "It is no request," said Jerome, "the emperor com- 
 mands it." 
 
 "As for me," cried la Princesse Borghese, "I would 
 like to see myself touch her odious mantle ! " 
 
 " Do not excite yourself, sister," said the queen of 
 Naples, " this matter does not concern either you or the 
 grande duchesse; you are neither of you queens." 
 
 " But I am more than a parvenue queen," gasped 
 Pauline, between her sobs, " my husband was a noble 
 from birth." 
 
 " I, for one, will not officiate as the waiting- woman of 
 my sister-in-law," said the queen of Naples haughtily. 
 
 " I could not venture to hint at such a degradation to 
 my wife, the daughter of the king of Wurtemberg," 
 declared Jerome. 
 
 "Sons and daughters, son-in-law and daughter-in-law," 
 said Madame Mere, " bear in mind that Napole'one' is 
 accustomed to be obeyed. He is entirely wrong in this 
 matter ; but if he is resolved, you will obey." 
 
 " The others may do as they like ; but not /, Madame 
 Mbre," said the spoiled beauty, Pauline. 
 
 " Ton, like the rest," replied Madame Bonaparte, 
 with decision. 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE, 433 
 
 At that moment the doors were thrown open, and the 
 usher announced, " The Emperor ! " 
 
 It was in vain that Pauline tried to conceal her tears of 
 rage ; or that the queen of Naples endeavored to smoothe 
 her ruffled brow ; or that Murat hastily sheathed his splen- 
 did sword, which he had just drawn in mock defiance to 
 the imperial command. 
 
 "Madame la Princesse Borgli&se! explain what all this 
 means," said Napoleon, with severity. 
 
 " My sisters and I do not think it proper to carry the 
 mantle of your wife," Pauline exclaimed defiantly. 
 
 "What! do you all refuse?" asked the emperor. 
 
 "I cannot disgrace my crown," sobbed Caroline 
 Murat. 
 
 "I will not publicly outrage my unhappy mother!" 
 bravely said Hortense. 
 
 " And you, Eliza? " remarked Napoleon ; "you proba- 
 bly dread the reproaches of your husband. Ladies, what 
 did I owe to you when I was called upon to reign over 
 France ? I have placed you all on such a giddy elevation 
 that it has turned your heads. I have bestowed upon 
 your husbands and yourselves kingdoms, principalities, 
 and splendid establishments ; I have overwhelmed you 
 with wealth and honors. What art you without me? 
 Which of you could sustain yourself, if I did not stretch 
 out my hand to support you ? Oh ! so this is the tone 
 that you assume ! Your thrones belong to you by feudal 
 right? Mark me, ladies ; the archchancellor of state 
 shall make to you, or rather to your husbands, an official 
 declaration ; and whichever one among you ventures to 
 disobey my commands, shall be considered as a culprit, 
 and shall be put under the ban of the empire. And as 
 regards you, Madame Borghese, who honor us by your 
 
434 EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 alliance, as soon as the marriage fetes have terminated 
 you will leave Paris ; and as you first gave the signal of 
 resistance, so you shall be the first to obey. It is my 
 express determination that the empress, archduchess of 
 Austria, shall receive all the homage due to her birth and 
 rank." 
 
 The emperor then haughtily withdrew. The poor Prin- 
 cess Borghese fell upon the floor in violent hysterics ; and 
 Napoleon, having been apprised of the fact, sent his phy- 
 sician to attend her, bearing also the information to her, 
 that it was the command of the emperor that she should 
 be perfectly recovered before the next day. So Pauline 
 could not feign sickness, and was obliged to resign herself 
 to her fate. But even Napoleon himself could not con- 
 quer women's tears ; and although his unwilling relations 
 were forced to obey his imperial command, that fatal 
 train of the empress, measuring twelve yards in length, 
 was borne by weeping queens and princesses, who did 
 not even try to conceal their tears of mortification ; and 
 they doubtless then realized that an empress of royal 
 birth was not after all such a desirable acquisition to 
 their family as they had supposed. If poor Josephine 
 had not been too generous to be spiteful, and too sad to 
 note aught but her own humiliation and woe, she might 
 have felt herself somewhat avenged by her unconscious 
 successor. As the gorgeous spectacle passed through the 
 magnificent gallery which connected the Tuileries with the 
 Louvre, a child exclaimed to its mother: 
 
 "Mamma, why does the queen of Holland cry? I 
 thought queens were always laughing." 
 
 Poor Hortense ! It was indeed cruel in the extreme, 
 that she should have been forced to bear the mantle 
 of the woman who was so unjustly supplanting her own 
 mother. 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 435 
 
 Whenever Josephine's friends conversed in her pres- 
 ence regarding the woman who had taken her place, sh? 
 was careful to avoid the slightest remark which could De 
 construed into a censure of Maria Louisa, though her 
 sorrow could not be concealed. " He will never love 
 her," she exclaimed with deep feeling ; "he has sacrificed 
 everything to his politics; but his first wife yes, his 
 first wife, will forever possess his confidence." And she 
 did not deceive herself in this belief, for the ex-empress 
 had reason upon many occasions to exult in the irresistible 
 ascendency she still exercised over Napoleon. 
 
 On hearing of the birth of the king of Rome, Josephine 
 evinced her generous sympathy by making a present to 
 the baby archduke of a little carriage drawn bv two 
 superb merinos. The emperor -was much pleased with 
 this kind attention, but when he spoke of it to Maria 
 Louisa, the Austrian was offended ; for she could never 
 endure to hear a word of praise regarding the woman who 
 had preceded her, and she always tried to prevent Napo- 
 leon's visits to his former wife. But the emperor never 
 ceased to honor Josephine by frequent letters, hurried 
 visits, and constant delicate attentions. Josephine was 
 never forgotten by him, and he always spoke of her with 
 new and increasing interest. He was displeased with 
 certain of his courtiers who affected to forget the for- 
 saken Josephine. "Have you been to Malmaison?" 
 he would inquire of them. "How does the empress?" 
 and these fickle courtiers perceived that if they would 
 please the emperor, they must pay their respects to Jose- 
 phine. Often when returning from a hunt, Napoleon 
 would go and surprise Josephine at Malmaison with a visit, 
 and walk with her in the garden, conversing with the 
 greatest interest about all his affairs ; she was still his most 
 
436 EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 intimate confidant. To Josephine alone could he con- 
 fide his inmost thoughts, sure of never being betrayed, 
 and always receiving her most devoted interest. The 
 emperor would often send word to the grand ecuyer to 
 detain the Empress Maria Louisa at the riding-school ; 
 and then took advantage of the moment of liberty to go 
 and surprise Josephine at Malmaison. It is said that 
 Napoleon was much displeased with Madame de la R., 
 because, having been in Josephine's service, she proposed 
 to fulfil the same duties for the Empress Maria Louisa. 
 44 No," said he with indignation; "she shall not. Al- 
 though I am charged with ingratitude towards my wife, 
 I will have no imitators, especially among the persons 
 whom she has honored with her confidence and loaded with 
 her favors." 
 
 After her divorce, Josephine passed her time alternately 
 at Malmaison and the chateau of Navarre. She here dis- 
 pensed daily bounty to multitudes of poor families, who 
 were the recipients of her generous benevolence and the 
 objects of her personal care. The following touching in- 
 cident is said to have occurred just before Napoleon set 
 out on his fatal campaign to Russia. 
 
 The Empress Josephine was seated in her gallery of 
 paintings, when the emperor came upon her unawares, 
 and found her reading that passage in the life of Diocletian 
 relating to his abdication: "O ye, who have seen me 
 seated on a throne, come now and see the lettuce which I 
 have planted with my own hands ! " Napoleon appeared 
 to be singularly impressed by these words, and said to 
 Josephine with unusual tenderness: "My wife" (for so 
 he continued to call her), "I shall, perhaps, terminate 
 my course in the same way, and take pride in showing 
 the beautiful fruits of your gardens, cultivated by my own 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 437 
 
 hands, to the envoys of the different nations who may 
 come to visit Napoleon the Philosopher." 
 
 " So much the better," answered Josephine; "then 
 should we be happy indeed." But soon her eyes filled 
 with tears, and she said with inexpressible sadness : "My 
 friend, you have a new wife and a son ; I desire hence- 
 forth only to aid you by my counsels. But should you 
 ever be free, or should the blast of adversity ever deliver 
 you to your enemies, come, come, O Bonaparte v to my 
 cherished asylum ! " 
 
 Josephine was very desirous to behold the young king 
 of Rome. Madame Montesquieu, by the order of the em- 
 peror, went to Trianon with her august eleve. Hither 
 Josephine went, and when she beheld the young prince, 
 3he lavished her caresses upon his baby face, exclaim- 
 ing with streaming eyes : "I now pardon her freely for 
 the wrong she did me in coming to usurp my place. I am 
 now willing to overlook all my husband's errors, and con- 
 cern myself solely about the happiness of a father." 
 
 Napoleon's overthrow was the result of political errors, 
 into which he was led by evil advisers. They were : 
 
 "1. The unjust war in Spain ; an almost insupportable 
 draught upon the blood and treasure of France, and 
 utterly unproductive of profit or glory. 
 
 u 2. The divorce of his wife Josephine, a matter of 
 cold-blooded calculation ; a wrong determination as to the 
 results to arise from the respective positions of the objects 
 upon the political chessboard. It was discarding a French 
 woman for an Austrian princess. It offended France ; it 
 shocked all hearts by an apparent indifference to the love 
 of a noble-minded, innocent, faithful, and beautiful woman. 
 
 "3. The unfortunate campaign to Russia, an effort 
 which France was not then strong enough to sustain ; 
 
438 EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 though it was one of the grandest displays of military 
 power in the history of the world." 
 
 And yet, with all Napoleon's plans, it was not his son 
 who afterwards sat upon the French throne, but the grand- 
 son of Josephine, the son of Hortense and Louis Bona- 
 parte who subsequently reigned over France as Emperor 
 Napoleon III. What had the cruel and iniquitous divorce 
 availed after all? Thus a wise Providence seems to 
 declare to the sons of men through the sequences resulting 
 from such historical events, Ye shall not do evil, presum- 
 ing to imagine that thereby good may arise ! 
 
 Napoleon's unfortunate and unjust war with Spain 
 proved in the end to have been an enterprise regarding 
 which the keen intuitions of Josephine had not deceived 
 her. She was endowed with an instinct so perfect, which 
 enabled her to foresee the future with such marvellous 
 skill, that it amounted with her almost to a gift of genius ; 
 and she was seldom deceived respecting the good or evil 
 tendency of any of Napoleon's measures. When informed 
 that the emperor intended to place Joseph Bonaparte upon 
 the throne of Spain, she declared that " she was seized 
 with a feeling of indescribable alarm." 
 
 " When Bonaparte separated from Josephine, he left 
 the woman who had exercised a great influence upon his 
 destinies. It was she who had in a manner launched him 
 upon fortune's car, who knew how to uphold him in spite 
 of envy, who was the guardian angel sent by Providence 
 upon the earth to repair a thousand wrongs ; and from 
 the moment he repudiated her, Napoleon, the invincible 
 Napoleon, began to be a prey to fearful forebodings. 
 This false step was a triumph to his enemies, and all 
 Europe was amazed that a man whose former achieve- 
 ments had covered him with glory, should thus, with a 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 439 
 
 sort of ostentation, run after the daughter of a sovereign 
 whom he had subdued by force of arms. ' From that 
 moment ' (such was the general exclamation) ' that Na- 
 poleon shall start this scandalous project of a divorce, 
 and, not content with severing the bonds which are for 
 him not less sacred than advantageous, shall dare aspire 
 to the hand of the august daughter of the Caesars, Napo- 
 leon is no longer an3*thing of himself ; he is but an ambi- 
 tious man. He will tremble for the result of the part he 
 is acting, for he will seek to sustain himself by force and 
 not by popular favor.' " 
 
 As the disasters of his last days gathered around Napo- 
 leon, he said to Josephine on one occasion, when paying 
 her a visit at Malmaisou : 
 
 u Josephine, when my soul is filled with pain, I feel the 
 need of a true friend into whose bosom I may pour my 
 sorrows. What astonishes me is, that men should study 
 every other science except that of happiness. 'Tis only 
 in retirement that I have found it, and that I may, per- 
 haps, hereafter meet with it ! " 
 
 Josephine said, regarding the taking of Paris by the 
 allied sovereigns : 
 
 " My courtiers could not long conceal from me the 
 occupation of the capital. I found myself almost in the 
 sad condition of the family of Darius. Should I await 
 the orders of my husband's conquerors, or should I go and 
 implore their generosit}' ? The melanchoty state to which 
 Bonaparte was reduced wholly engrossed my feelings 
 and my thoughts. I was resolved to share his death, or 
 to follow him into exile." 
 
 " Noble-hearted woman ! What a contrast does this 
 feeling present to that which actuated his second wife, 
 who abandoned him as readily and with as little com- 
 
440 tiMP&ESS 
 
 punction or concern, as though her child had been the son 
 of a German boor, and not of one as great as Caesar or 
 Alexander!" 
 
 While Josephine was at Navarre, and anxiously await- 
 ing the next news from the captured city, she received 
 word from the minister Talleyrand, inviting her to return 
 to Malmaison, to meet there the Emperor Alexander and 
 the king of Prussia, who had expressed a wish to see the 
 queen of that palace of enchantments. Of her interview 
 with these sovereigns, Josephine says : 
 
 ' ' I thanked those magnanimous princes for having had 
 the generosity to honor with their presence the forsaken 
 wife of Bonaparte ; I recommended to their kind consid- 
 eration that brave army which had long displayed such 
 prodigies of valor ; I pleaded the cause of those brave 
 soldiers who still formed a bulwark around the hero of 
 Austerlitz ; and I claimed, earnestly claimed, the liberty 
 of the man whom I still loved. I forgot all his wrongs 
 towards me, and thought only of his misfortunes." 
 
 The Emperor Alexander of Russia said to Josephine : 
 " I congratulate you on having reigned over the French, 
 a nation so worthy to be well governed ; I congratulate 
 you on having known how to make friends while on the 
 throne, friends who have followed you into retirement. 
 'Tis to you, madame, that France is in a great measure 
 indebted for the tranquillity she enjoyed during the first 
 years of your husband's reign. Had Napoleon continued 
 to listen to your advice, he would probably now have 
 reigned over a great and generous people. All the sov- 
 ereigns in Europe, and myself the first, would ultimately 
 have applauded the wisdom of his institutions and the 
 strength of his government." 
 
 When Napoleon returned from Elba to Paris, and was 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 441 
 
 once more receiving the acclamations of his adherents at 
 the Tuileries, he is said to have fallen into a " melting 
 mood," a few nights after his return thither, and he sent 
 for M. Horan, one of the physicians who had attended 
 Josephine in her last illness. After talking about his 
 former wife with much feeling, to whom he certainly was 
 attached even when he so cruelly abandoned her, he said 
 to the physician : 
 
 "So, Monsieur Horan, you did not leave the empress 
 during her malady?" 
 
 "No, sire." 
 
 ' ' What was the cause of that malady ? " 
 
 " Uneasiness of mind grief." 
 
 " You believe that?" and Napoleon laid a strong em- 
 phasis on the word believe, looking steadfastly in the doc- 
 tor's -face. He then asked, "Was she long ill? Did 
 she suffer much ? " 
 
 " She was ill a week, sire ; her Majesty suffered little 
 pain." 
 
 "Did she see that she was dying? Did she show 
 courage ? " 
 
 "A sign her Majesty made when she could no longer 
 express .herself, leaves me no doubt that she felt her end 
 approaching ; she seemed to contemplate it without 
 fear." 
 
 "Well! well!" and then Napoleon, much affected, 
 drew close to M. Horan, and added, "You say that she 
 was in grief ; from what did that arise?" 
 
 " From passing events, sire, from your Majesty's posi 
 tion last year." 
 
 " Ah ! she. used to speak of me, then ? " 
 
 "Often; very often." 
 
 Here Napoleon drew his hand across his eyes, which 
 were filled with tears. He then said : 
 
442 EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 " Good woman ! My excellent Josephine! She loved 
 me truly, did she not? Ah ! she was a Frenchwoman ! " 
 
 " Oh yes, sire ! she loved you, and she would have 
 proved it, had it not been for dread of displeasing you ; 
 she had conceived an idea." 
 
 " How? What would she have done ? " 
 
 " She one day said that as empress of the French she 
 would drive through Paris, with eight horses to her coach, 
 and all her household in gala livery, to go and rejoin you 
 at Fontainebleau, and never quit you more." 
 
 u She would have done it ! She was capable of doing 
 it ! " exclaimed Napoleon, with deep emotion and eyes 
 full of tears ; and then he asked the physician the most 
 minute questions about the last hours of Josephine : the 
 nature of her disease, the friends and attendants who 
 were around her at the hour of her death, and the con- 
 duct of her two children Eugene and Hortense. 
 
 How different was Josephine's fidelity to the man who 
 had even cut her to the heart by his cruel desertion when 
 he was at the height of his glory, but wliom in his dire 
 misfortunes she did not cease to love and desire to aid, 
 from the cold apathy of the woman who had taken her 
 rightful place ! 
 
 After the fall of the emperor, and his departure to the 
 island of Elba, Josephine fell into a profound melancholy. 
 For several days she preferred to remain alone. Her 
 ladies noticed that she often perused a letter which the 
 emperor had written to her from Brienne, in which he 
 said : 
 
 " Josephine, while revisiting the spot where I passed 
 my early childhood, and comparing the peaceful hours I 
 then enjoyed with the agitations which I now experience, 
 I am constrained to say to myself, I fear death no longer 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 443 
 
 to me it would this day be a blessing, but I would once 
 more see Josephine." 
 
 Speaking of Napoleon at this time, she is reported to 
 have said : " I am the only one to whom he intrusted all 
 liis secrets all except the one which has caused his ruin ; 
 and had he communicated that to me in season, I should 
 still have enjoyed his presence ; and by means of my 
 counsels he would perhaps have escaped these new calami- 
 ties." 
 
 Among the last words uttered by the faithful Josephine, 
 were these, regarding Napoleon, whose loved portrait 
 she then gazed upon: "Banished to an island under a 
 foreign sky, torn from France, from a wife and a beloved 
 son, from all his friends ; fallen from the palaces of kings, 
 among the hills of Elba, overcome by cares and fatigues, 
 sad and melancholy, alone amidst. the dwellers upon that 
 island, there still remains to him one faithful Pylades, 
 and a few warriors who have voluntarily shared his exile. 
 Bonaparte can never find consolation in his deep misfor- 
 tunes, except in the reflection that there still remains to 
 him one true friend who hath never ceased to watch over 
 his precious life. But, alas ! she is lost for him." 
 
 "Josephine, Bonaparte's last friend; Josephine, the 
 first object of his ambition, and the only woman whom he 
 truly loved. Bonaparte was fortunate while her lot was 
 connected with his. His after-life was less miserable 
 while she survived. Dying, she still wished to press his 
 hand ; his name was the last word she uttered, and her 
 last tear fell upon his portrait." 
 
 Time destroys great reputations, but that of Napoleon's 
 first wife will be deathless while woman's self-sacrific- 
 ing love remains. 
 
 "At least," said Josephine, with dying breath; "at 
 
444 EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 least I shall carry with rne some regrets. I have aimed 
 at the good of the French people ; I have done all in my 
 power to promote it, and I may say with truth to all who 
 attend me in my last moments, that never, no, never, did 
 the first wife of Napoleon Bonaparte cause a tear to 
 flow." 
 
 Beautiful May had already clothed the gardens of 
 Malmaison with verdure and adorned them with radiant 
 flowers. The sunset tints crimsoned the western horizon, 
 and tipped the white clouds with purple and gold. The 
 birds in the groves were softly carolling their vesper 
 songs, and the gentle breeze, swaying the delicate leaves, 
 fanned with caressing touch the fevered cheek of the 
 dying Josephine, who, with eyes fast dimming in death, 
 gazed once more through the open window upon the 
 loved beauties of her favorite Malmaison, which on this 
 29th of May, 1814, seemed to have put on new loveliness 
 to comfort the gentle spirit so soon to take a fond and 
 last farewell. As the shadows of twilight deepened, and 
 the dying empress looked once more on the portrait of 
 her idolized husband, the emperor, she exclaimed, "L'isle 
 
 d'Elbe Napoleon!" and closed her eyes on earth, and 
 
 passed beyond the portals of mortal life. 
 
 "The death of Josephine threw all France into tears, 
 and even strangers shared in the general sorrow. They 
 witnessed the universal regrets her death occasioned, and 
 it may be truly said, to the praise of both the friends and 
 foes of Bonaparte, that, on this mournful occasion, all 
 united to scatter flowers upon the tomb of the woman who 
 had adorned the happy da} T s of the illustrious exile." 
 
 On the 2d of June, the funeral honors were paid to the 
 mortal remains of the Empress Josephine, in the parish 
 church at Ruel. Commissioners from the sovereigns of 
 
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 445 
 
 Russia and Prussia headed the procession, which pro- 
 ceeded from Malmaison to Ruel. Many foreign princes, 
 marshals, generals, and officers of the French and allied 
 armies escorted the renowned remains. 
 
 The military consisted of Russian Hussars and the 
 National Guards of France. The chief mourners were 
 Prince Eugene, the Grand Duke of Baden, Marquis 
 de Beauharnais (brother-in-law), Count de Tascher 
 (nephew), Count de Beauharnais (cousin), and the 
 grandchildren of the deceased empress. 
 
 The funeral oration was pronounced by the Arch- 
 bishop of Tours, while the bishops of Evreux and Ver- 
 sailles assisted in the religious ceremonies. The body 
 of the empress was enclosed in a leaden coffin, which 
 was afterwards placed in one of sycamore wood covered 
 with black cloth. The casket was deposited in a vault 
 in the church at Ruel, over which was raised a chapelle 
 ardente formed of funeral hangings ; the altar, richly 
 decorated in the form of a tomb, and the altar-piece, 
 representing a cross, were surmounted by a canopy. On 
 the right was placed a statue of Immortality, on the left 
 that of Religion. A sepulchral lamp was suspended in 
 the middle of the chapelle ardente. 
 
 Queen Hortense, who had been conveyed to the church 
 before the funeral obsequies, knelt for a long time beside 
 the tomb, with her brother, after the other mourners had 
 left the church. 
 
 The spot is now marked by a monument of white mar- 
 ble, representing the empress kneeling in her coronation 
 robes, and bears this simple and touching inscription : 
 
 EUGENE AND HORTENSE TO JOSEPHINE. 
 The widow and the orphan went daily to weep by her 
 
446 EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 tomb. Many of her faithful friends continued to make 
 visits to the last resting-place of her whose memory was 
 honored by universal respect and sincere mourning. The 
 poor and the rich alike honored her life and mourned her 
 death. " What now remains to Josephine is the recollec- 
 tion of her good deeds," a more fitting memorial than 
 costly" monument or marble sarcophagus of most elabo- 
 rate art. 
 
 As an empress, none can claim a more exalted place, 
 as the personification of grace, beauty, and queenly dig- 
 nity. But it is as a woman as a wife and a mother 
 that the brightest halo of glory crowns the pure brow of 
 Josephine ; and as Love's Martyr, she has gained the 
 highest place amongst the self-sacrificing women of his- 
 toric fame. 
 
EMPRESS EUGENIE. 447 
 
 THE EMPRESS EUGENIE. 
 
 A.D. 1826. 
 
 M Then happy low, lie down ; 
 Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown." SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 " TJWERYTHING happens in France," says La Roche- 
 J-^ foucauld ; and indeed it would seem so. The his- 
 tory of no other country of modern times presents such a 
 series of rapid changes, decided extremes, and strange in- 
 congruities. Monarchies, empires, republics, follow each 
 other in rapid succession. Yet through it all in base 
 servility or in fierce revolt, in licentiousness or prudery, 
 in anarchy or order, in despotism or demagogy ; under 
 Valois, Bourbon, or Bonaparte ; from Versailles and Louis 
 XIV. to Malmaison of the First, and Compiegne of the 
 Second Empire we see the same thoughts, the same 
 ideas, the same traits of character, though veiled under 
 different garbs. 
 
 In 1685 the House of Bourbon was at the zenith of its 
 glory. France, crushed with oppression, bowed beneath 
 its yoke. One hundred and fifty thousand souls rioted in 
 luxury. Twentj'-five millions toiled to administer to their 
 luxury. The people cried for bread, and proud, licentious 
 nobles bid them " eat grass," while the monarch, from 
 his gilded palace, thundered forth his arbitrary dictum, 
 "L'Etat c'est moi!" 
 
 " The kingdom is in a deplorable state," said Mirabeau. 
 "It can only be regenerated b}* some great internal con- 
 vulsion. But woe to those who live to see that. The 
 French people do not do things by halves." The convulsion 
 
448 EMPRESS EUGENIE. 
 
 comes. The French people do not do things by halves, 
 The throne falls with a crash, and the guillotine stands in 
 the Place de la Concorde. 
 
 Then conies the Empire. Glory is the object sought, 
 and glory is attained. France is ablaze with glory. 
 Rivoli, Austeilitz, Waterloo! And the First Empire 
 with its glories and its triumphs, its crowns and its scep- 
 tres, its stars and its crosses fades like a dream, and 
 is gone. The Bourbons return to the homes of their an- 
 cestors. Again the storm arises, and the Republic is 
 proclaimed. The Republic becomes the Empire. Laurels, 
 crowns, triumph ! Glory is sought, but 'tis pacific glory. 
 " The Empire is peace." France prospers. But a dark 
 cloud gathers on the horizon. The thunder peals. War 
 rages fast and furious. Defeat, disaster, ruin ! The 
 Empire has fallen to pieces ! Bourbon and Bonaparte 
 wander through Europe. 
 
 'Tis the height of the Paris u season," and with its 
 gayly dressed crowds and splendid equipages, the Avenue 
 des Champs Ely sees wears a festive, smiling air. Bright 
 shines the sun, gilding with its rays the dome and turrets 
 of the Tuileries, the terraces and statues, the obelisk of 
 Luxor, and sending back the waters of the fountains in 
 showers of glittering diamonds, while far in the distance 
 the massive outline of the Arc de Triomplie looms lofty 
 against the clear blue sky. Carriages, horsemen, and 
 pedestrians, a countless throng, are on their way to and 
 from the Bois de Boulogne; but one alone attracts uni- 
 versal attention. A tall and graceful figure clad in a 
 dark green habit, and above whose head there floats a 
 snow-white plume, she sits proud and erect upon her 
 splendid thoroughbred. Paris sees with admiration, and 
 in every mouth there is but one question, " Who is yonder 
 
EMPRESS EUGENIE. 449 
 
 /air equestrienne, who sits so splendidly, who rides so 
 fearlessly ? " 
 
 " Tis Eugenie de Montijo, Comtesse de Teba." 
 
 Born in Spain in 1826, in the province of Granada, her 
 early days were passed among the picturesque scenery 
 with which the pen of Irving has made us familiar. Her 
 father, the Count de Montijo and Te"ba, was a grandee of 
 Spain, and from him she inherited many titles of nobility. 
 Washington Irving, who was then in Spain, knew her 
 mother, Maria Manuela Kirkpatrick, and was a frequent 
 visitor at her house, where he soon made friends with the 
 little Eugenie ; and in later } T ears, when she was dazzling 
 Europe with the costliness of her costumes and the splen- 
 dor of her court, he recalled with interest and amusement 
 the many times he had held upon his knee the future em- 
 press of the French, " when she was an alert, dark-eyed 
 little girl, doubtless very happy to be entertained with 
 such stories of her native land as he could tell her." 
 
 From Spain she was sent to Toulouse, and afterwards 
 to Bristol, to pursue her education ; and when she left 
 school, beautiful and accomplished, easy in manners and 
 fluent in conversation, which she could carry on with 
 apparently equal ease in Spanish, English, or in French, 
 possessing more than average information, and dis- 
 playing a readiness and aptness of repartee approaching 
 the brilliancy of wit, with a beauty striking and excep- 
 tional, a form slender and perfectly moulded, a com- 
 plexion brilliantly fair, and black eyes, large and ex- 
 pressive, it is not surprising that she became successively 
 the belle of the season in London, Paris, and Madrid. 
 
 While in London she was introduced to Louis Napoleon, 
 then an exile from France, and distinguished chiefly for 
 the disastrous failure of his first attempt to overthrow the 
 
$50 EMPRESS EUGENIE. 
 
 government of Louis Philippe. In 1851 she met him 
 again. He was then called Napoleon III., and she was 
 regarded as one of the leaders of fashion in Paris. His 
 attentions to her gradually became marked and suggestive, 
 and finally he offered to share with her his throne. On 
 the 22d of January, 1853, the approaching nuptials were 
 announced publicly to the Senate. In this communica- 
 tion, Napoleon thus expressed himself : 
 
 " I come, then, gentlemen," he said, " to announce that 
 I have preferred the woman whom I love and whom I 
 respect, to one who is unknown, and whose alliance would 
 have had advantages mingled with sacrifices. She who 
 has been the object of my preference is of princely descent. 
 French in heart, by education, and the recollection of the 
 blood shed by her father in the cause of the Empire, she 
 has, as a Spaniard, the advantage of not having in France 
 a family tc whom it might be necessary to give honors 
 and fortune. Endowed with all the qualities of mind, 
 she will be the ornament of the throne. In the day of 
 danger she will be one of its courageous supporters. A 
 Catholic, she will address to Heaven the same prayers 
 with me for the happiness of France. In fine, by her 
 grace and her goodness, she will, I firmly hope, endeavor 
 to revive in the same position the virtues of the Empress 
 Josephine." 
 
 On the 29th of January, the civil marriage of Louis 
 Napoleon with Mademoiselle de Montijo took place at the 
 Tuileries, and on the following day the religious ceremonies 
 were celebrated at the cathedral of N6tre Dame. Never 
 had the arches of that venerable pile looked down upon a 
 more brilliant assemblage. The imperial couple sat on 
 two thrones erected in front of the high altar, and the 
 representatives of the army, of the Senate^ of the munici- 
 
EMPRESS EUGENIE. 451 
 
 pal authorities, and 'of the diplomatic corps surrounded 
 them. All the pomp and splendor of the Catholic service, 
 all the opulence of France's great capital, all the beauty 
 and brilliancy of the court, all the grim majesty of the 
 military ; sc.ience, art, and lavish luxury, all were united 
 and exhausted on the incidents and displays of this mo- 
 mentous occasion. 
 
 At last all was over, and to the echoing shouts of " Vive 
 r Imperatrice ! " Eugenie de Montijo returned with her 
 imperial consort to the palace of the Tuileries. 
 
 The career of the great Napoleonic dynasty is without 
 a parallel either in ancient or modern times. Long since, 
 the universal judgment of mankind has decided that its 
 founder, Napoleon I., was in every respect as great a 
 hero, and probably a greater, than Alexander, Caesar, or 
 Charlemagne, the three most renowned representatives of 
 ambitious daring in the world's history. The variety and 
 extent of Napoleon's abilities, both as a commander, a 
 legislator, and a ruler, place him above all his rivals ; 
 while the splendor of his victories, the extent of his con- 
 quests, and the grandeur of his elevation, exceeds theirs 
 in an eminent degree. 
 
 " But in addition to all these elements of superior 
 greatness, the family of Napoleon I. add an unequal at- 
 traction to his career. None of his illustrious rivals cohld 
 boast of a wife as graceful and bewitching as Josephine, 
 or as high-born and nobly descended as Maria Louisa. 
 None could claim brothers as sagacious as Joseph, as 
 gallant as Murat, as capable as Lucien, as romantic as 
 Jerome. Noue could point to as many relatives who 
 were sovereign princes and princesses, and who owed 
 their lofty elevations to his own powerful arm. And 
 none had a successor equal in talent and in desperate, 
 successful daring, to Napoleon III." 
 
452 EMPRESS EUGENIE. 
 
 Charles Louis Napoleon Bonaparte', son of Louis Napo- 
 leon, king of Holland, and Horteuse, daughter of the 
 Empress Josephine and of her first husband, the Vis- 
 comte de Beauharnais, was born at Paris, on the 20th of 
 April, 1808. Along the whole line of the grpnde armee, 
 and throughout the entire extent of the Empire, from 
 Hamburg to Genoa, and from the Danube to the Atlan- 
 tic, salvos of artillery announced the happy event. This 
 was an honor which fell to the lot of only two members of 
 the imperial family, Louis Napoleon and the king of 
 Rome, for they only were born under the imperial regime. 
 It is not our purpose, in this short sketch of the life of 
 the Empress Eugenie, to trace the career of Napoleon 
 III., except in so much only as it bears upon her own. 
 
 The Revolution of 1848 was over, and France needed 
 a monarch skilled to rule in a reign of peace. Three very 
 poor specimens of that article had been tried, in the per- 
 sons of Louis XVIII. , Charles X., and Louis Philippe, 
 and had proved miserable failures. They did no great 
 harm, because they did nothing at all. 
 
 " Providence wrested the useless sceptre from the last, 
 and bestowed it upon Napoleon III." 
 
 Truly " there is nothing so successful as success," and 
 never has it been more clearly illustrated than in the his- 
 tory of Louis Napoleon. All writers who have narrated 
 the events of his life, when in the full plentitude of his 
 power he sat upon his throne at the Ttiileries, have ex- 
 tolled him as a demi-god, and praised in most extravagant 
 terms his wonderful abilities ; but those who have written 
 since the fall of the Empire denounce him as a cold and 
 selfish conspirator and revolutionist, roue, and libertine ; 
 and declare "that among the rulers of Christendom in 
 modern times there is not one whose record is so utterly 
 
EMPRESS EUGENIE. 453 
 
 devoid of any redeeming act, so entirely dictated by self- 
 ishness, lust, and sordid greed, as that of Charles Louis 
 Napoleon." 
 
 Between these two extremes lies the truth, and among 
 the defeats and disasters of 1870 we must not forget the 
 glories and triumphs of 1855. This much is certain, that 
 from the time of his attainment of the supreme power, 
 Louis Napoleon exhibited administrative talent of the 
 first order. France was governed with the regularity 
 and system of a gigantic piece of machinery. More 
 vigor, energy, and harmony had never before pervaded 
 the administration. It was said of Augustus, that he 
 found Rome brick and left it marble. That saying 
 would not be exaggerated if applied to Louis Napoleon 
 and Paris. The gay capital of the Empire was the special 
 object of his care, and Paris seemed to have thrown off 
 the dingy and faded habiliments of past ages, which still 
 clung to her, and to have assumed the freshness, beauty, 
 and energy of youth. Public monuments, palaces, tern- 
 pies, and boulevards were, by his orders, embellished, 
 enlarged, renovated, and repaired. Old Paris disap- 
 peared, and new Paris started up in its place. Dark, 
 dirty, ill-paved, and worse-drained streets were replaced 
 by noble boulevards full of palaces. He completed the 
 Louvre, reconstructed the Tuileries, regenerated the Pa- 
 lais Royal, and interminably prolonged the Rue de Rivoli. 
 
 "/His acts and deeds speak for themselves, and they 
 prove, on undeniable evidence, that France was never 
 better governed than by him. A people as fickle as the 
 wind, as restless as the sea ; a people as whimsical as 
 women, as fanciful as children ; a people with whom nov- 
 elty is a mania and faction a disease ; a people brave, 
 intelligent, and generous by fits, and treacherous, frivo- 
 
454 EMPBESS EUGENIE. 
 
 lous, and vindictive by starts, such a people could have 
 been governed at that crisis only by such a ruler. And 
 single-handed, by the sheer force of his genius, and the 
 moral power which is the body-guard of genius, he gov- 
 erned them wisely and well. In spite of almost invincible 
 opposition, in the face of almost uusurmountable obsta- 
 cles, he raised them, step by step, to be regarded as the 
 most enlightened nation of Europe ; he unsparingly pro- 
 moted their national welfare, he perceptibly diminished 
 their national evils ; in short, for nearly twenty years he 
 was the glory of France and the wonder of the world.'* 
 
 The alliance between France and England having ter- 
 minated so gloriously for the arms and diplomacy of both 
 countries, the emperor and empress of the French, in 
 1855, visited Queen Victoria in her own dominions, proba- 
 bly the first instance on record in which a reigning French 
 monarch set foot upon the soil of his hereditary foes. 
 The rejoicings on this occasion were prodigious, and 
 Louis Napoleon, who had once paced the streets of Lon- 
 don a penniless wanderer, was received in the same 
 capital with universal greetings, with flying banners, with 
 military salutes, with the congratulations of the sovereign 
 and nobility, and with the joyful acclamations of the mil- 
 lions. Albert and Victoria in a short time returned the 
 compliment, and the scene was transferred from London 
 to Paris. "On that memorable occasion France's gay 
 and brilliant capital, that great centre of the world's 
 civilization and luxury, assumed unwonted hues of splen- 
 dor, exhibited scenes of unusual festivity and rejoicing, 
 and exhausted her varied and infinite resources to impress, 
 delight, and charm her august visitors." 
 
 The felicity of Louis Napoleon was now about to 
 receive a further augmentation, and his sudden and vigor- 
 
EMPRESS EUGENIE. 455 
 
 ous empire to be strengthened by an additional element of 
 perpetuity and power. On the 16th of March, 1856, a 
 son was born at the palace of the Tuileries. On that 
 occasion, the emperor thus addressed the Senate : " The 
 Senate has participated in my joy on hearing that Heaven 
 has given me a son, and you have hailed as a happy event 
 the birth of a child of France. I intentionally make use 
 of that expression. In fact, the Emperor Napoleon, my 
 uncle, who had applied to the new system created by the 
 Revolution all that was great and elevated in the old 
 regime, had resumed that ancient denomination of the 
 children of France. The reason is, gentlemen, that when 
 an heir is born who is destined to perpetuate a national 
 system, that child is not only the scion of a family, but 
 also in truth the son of the whole country, and that appel- 
 lation points out to him his duties. If this were true 
 under the old monarchy, which represented exclusively 
 the privileged class, how much more so is it now, when 
 the sovereign is the elect of the nation, the first citizen of 
 the country, and the representative of the interests of all ? 
 I thank you for the kind wishes which you have expressed 
 for this child of France and for the empress." 
 
 The birth of the Prince Imperial realized national hopes 
 long deferred. And never was title more perfectly repre- 
 sentative of truth and fact, than that of " Fits de 
 France." The son of France, the son of the nation, 
 the gift of Providence to the people. It was in this sense 
 that the title was bestowed, and in this sense that it was 
 interpreted by the country. Throughout France the joy 
 manifested was excessive, and the municipal authorities 
 and public bodies of all kinds came forward with affection- 
 ate eagerness to manifest their sympathy in the happiness 
 of their sovereign. What prophet could then have fore- 
 
456 EMPRESS EUGENIE. 
 
 told that Napoleon Eugene Louis Jean Joseph, Prince 
 Imperial, and Fils de France, whose birth was now so 
 proudly hailed, whose future seemed so brilliant, and who 
 was heir to the grandest throne in Europe, would, in a 
 few years, be an exile in a foreign land, and that ulti- 
 mately, at the early age of twenty-three, the javelins of 
 hostile savages would terminate his career amid the wilds 
 of Africa? 
 
 It is a bright May afternoon in the year 1857, and 
 every avenue leading to the vast area of the Champ de 
 Mars is crowded with endless masses of troops, marching 
 with stately tread and martial music to the grand ren- 
 dezvous. For his Majesty Napoleon III. is to hold, in 
 honor of the Grand Duke Constantine of Russia, one of 
 those public reviews by which he exhibits, to such great 
 advantage, the strength and majesty of his army. As 
 far as the eye can reach, along both banks of the 
 Seine, and through the immense perspective of the 
 adjacent boulevards, glittering arms of cavalry and in- 
 fantry flash brightly in the rays of the refulgent sun. As 
 the hour of two tolls from the lofty towers of the 
 Invalides, seventy thousand men, disposed so as to pro- 
 duce the most sublime and impressive effect, stand 
 motionless in military arra}', awaiting the approach of 
 that single man who has so heroically grasped and main- 
 tained the sceptre of dominion in France. 
 
 The noble facade of the Ecole Militaire, the splendid 
 dome of the Hotel des Invalides, the towering mass of the 
 Arc de Triomphe, and a hundred other monuments of 
 architectural beauty and historic celebrity, are within the 
 view, combining, with the majesty of military power 
 assembled in their centre, a coup d'mil of unrivalled mag- 
 nificence. 
 
EMPRESS EUGENIE. 457 
 
 At length the graceful waving of red and white plumes, 
 and the gleam of polished silver helmets on the Pont de 
 Jena, the roll of a thousand drums and the music of a 
 thousand trumpets indicate the approach of Louis Napo- 
 leon and his illustrious guest. 
 
 Surrounded by his magnificent Etat Major, composed 
 of the chief officers of all the regiments, the emperor 
 rides with military precision into the centre "of the gor- 
 geous array. The Champ de Mars, familiar as it has 
 been with the glories of the First Empire, has never seen 
 the conqueror of Marengo and Austerlitz surrounded with 
 a halo of greater martial grandeur than this which now 
 encompasses this man who has never seen a solitary con- 
 flict of arms or commanded a single battalion in the field. 
 
 On the right of the emperor, in the costume of a Rus- 
 sian admiral, rides the Grand Duke Constantine, and on 
 his left the Prince Napoleon and the Duke of Nassau, 
 while behind them, in a sumptuous carriage, arrayed in 
 the most gorgeous and elegant of toilettes, the very pic- 
 ture of loveliness and beauty, comes the Empress Eu- 
 genie. 
 
 Three times the splendid cortege passes through the 
 field ; after which the emperor, the empress, and the 
 grand duke take up their positions under the central 
 pavilion of the Ecole Militaire, and the defile begins. 
 During three hours seventy thousand men, composed of 
 seventy-four battalions of foot, sixty squadrons of cav- 
 alry, and a hundred and fifty pieces of artillery, all 
 arrayed in new uniforms, with untarnished arms and ac- 
 coutrements, march by to the inspiring notes of martial 
 melody, and beneath a bright and propitious sky. 
 " Many of the regiments bear immortal names upon their 
 banners, which must forcibly remind the Grand Duke 
 
458 EMPRESS EUGENIE. 
 
 Constantine of those far-famed and bloody struggles in 
 which the colossal power of the First Empire strove with 
 desperate energy and effort to crush forever the throne 
 of the Muscovite kings. Nevertheless, the grand duke 
 looks on complacently, and utters nothing but polite 
 phrases of praise and commendation." 
 
 With such pageantries Louis Napoleon regaled and im- 
 pressed the splendor-loving Parisians. All the pacific 
 splendors of the First Empire were restored, and he 
 neglected no means of impressing upon his subjects and 
 upon the world the greatness of his power and the 
 security with which he sat upon his throne. 
 
 In the early part of the month of January, 1858, as 
 the carriage of the emperor and empress was approaching 
 the Italian Opera House, three bombs were aimed at their 
 persons, and exploded beneath the wheels. Man} r per- 
 sons were wounded, and some of those forming the 
 imperial escort were killed ; but Napoleon and Eugenie 
 escaped unharmed. 
 
 The chief conspirators were Italian refugees, some of 
 whom suffered the well-merited penalty of death for their 
 sanguinary but unsuccessful purpose. 
 
 In an address, soon after, to the legislature, the em- 
 peror mentioned the event. " I thank Heaven," he said, 
 " for the visible protection which it has granted to the 
 empress and myself ; and I deeply deplore that a plan for 
 destroying one life should have ended in the loss of so 
 many. Yet this thwarted scheme can teach us some use- 
 ful lessons. The recourse to such desperate means is but 
 a proof of the feebleness and impotence of the conspira- 
 tors. 
 
 "And again, there never was an assassination which 
 served the interests of the men who armed the murderer. 
 
EMPRESS EUGENIE. 459 
 
 Neither the party who struck Caesar, nor that which slew 
 Henry IV., profited by their overthrow. God sometimes 
 permits the death of the just, but he never allows the 
 triumph of the evil agent. Thus these attempts neither 
 disturb my security in the present nor my trust in the 
 future. If I live, the Empire lives with me ; if I fall, the 
 Empire will be strengthened by my death, for the indigna- 
 tion of the people and of the army will be a new support 
 for the throne of my son. Let us, then, face the future 
 with confidence, and calmly devote ourselves to the wel- 
 fare and to the honor of our country. Dieu protege la 
 France!" 
 
 Alas ! that Louis Napoleon, the prudent and sagacious 
 administrator of 1858, and the wise and powerful monarch 
 of 1867, should have become the short-sighted and in- 
 efficient general of 1870. 
 
 And when, upon the ensanguined field of Sedan, the 
 star of the Second Empire fell to rise no more, and the 
 bloody demons of the Commune were carrying destruction 
 and death through the streets of beautiful Paris, Europe 
 and America in short, the civilized world re-echoed 
 the sentiment, exclaiming in the fulness of their anxious 
 minds, " Dieu protege la France I " 
 
 The year 1867 was a memorable one in the annals of 
 the Second Empire, for in it was held the Exposition Uni- 
 verselle, in which the arts, the sciences, and industries 
 of the whole world were displayed with unequalled 
 magnificence. 
 
 France on that occasion fraternized with all nations, 
 and her resplendent capital was the admiration of eyes 
 of the universe. Here was the culmination of the happy 
 reign of Louis Napoleon and Eugenie. u The Empire was 
 peace," and nations of every clime beheld the marvellous 
 
460 EMPRESS EUGENIE. 
 
 progress of France under the administration of her saga- 
 cious rulers. Unclouded happiness pervaded the land, 
 and untarnished glory shed a lustre over the Empire. 
 
 The first of July, 1867, a lovely day. The sun shone 
 brightly in a clear sky, and beautiful Paris never looked 
 so fair. The Exposition was at its height, and the gay 
 capital was crowded with distinguished visitors. On this 
 day Napoleon III. was to distribute prizes to the success- 
 ful competitors. 
 
 In the most gorgeous of state carriages, blazing with 
 red and gold, drawn by eight horses splendidly capari- 
 soned, and preceded and followed by Cent Gardes, squad- 
 rons of Lancers, and officers and servants of the imperial 
 household, the emperor and empress left the Tuileries, 
 and at precisely two o'clock arrived at the Palais de I' In- 
 dustrie, in the Champs Elysees. The interior of the edi- 
 fice had been magnificently decorated for the occasion. 
 The semicircular glass roof was lined with a thin white 
 drapery dotted over with golden stars and bordered with 
 a band of pale green. 
 
 The galleries were hung with elegantly arranged crim- 
 son velvet draperies trimmed with gold lace ; while on 
 the fronts of the columns that supported the roof were 
 displayed the armorial bearings of the different nations 
 that had taken part in the Exhibition. All around the 
 floor of the vast hall were ranged, tier upon tier, rows of 
 crimson-colored benches, enough to seat twenty thou- 
 sand people. In the centre of one side of the hall, and 
 interrupting the terraces of encircling benches, was the 
 imperial throne, gorgeous in crimson and gold, and 
 whose velvet and golden, bee-spotted canopy, surmounted 
 by a massive crown, towered to the very roof. In great 
 folds of velvet of the richest hue, darker than crim- 
 
EMPRESS EUGENIE. 461 
 
 son, and lighter than purple, and relieved with em- 
 broidery of gold, the curtains sloped gracefully to the 
 crimson and black moquette carpet of the dais, filling the 
 eye with a splendid blaze of color. 
 
 Here the Emperor Napoleon sat enthroned in the midst 
 of his guests and of his court. On his right was the 
 Sultan of Turkey, in a blue and gold uniform, and wearing 
 upon his breast the ribbon of the Legion of Honor and a 
 diamond star. On his left sat the Empress Eugenie 
 dressed in white, spotted with gold, with a mauve satin 
 train. On her head she wore a green wreath surmounted 
 by diamonds ; diamonds in her ears, a diamond necklace 
 which fell in long pendants upon her breast, and a dia- 
 mond stomacher. This glittering attire, in contrast with 
 the dark draperies of the throne, was very effective. 
 
 Next to the sultan sat the Prince of Wales. Then 
 came the Prince of Orange, the Prince of Saxony, and 
 the Prince Imperial ; and next to him, the Grand Duchess 
 Marie, the Duke of Aosta, the Duke of Cambridge, and 
 the Princess Mathilde, by the side of whom, in a crimson 
 and gold brocaded petticoat and a black tunic bordered 
 with gold lace, sat the brother of the Japanese Tycoon. 
 On the left of the empress were the Prince Royal of 
 Prussia, the Princess of Saxony, Prince Humbert of 
 Italy, Prince Napoleon, and Abdul Hamed, son of the 
 sultan. 
 
 In the second row were the members of the Murat and 
 Bonaparte families, and behind all were the marshals of 
 France, the ministers of state, the officers of the imperial 
 household, and the Turkish beys and pachas in attendance 
 upon the sultan. 
 
 Between twenty and thirty thousand people were present 
 at the ceremony, the ladies attired in splendid toilets 
 
462 EMPRESS EUGENIE. 
 
 of the lightest and brightest tints, while the gentlemen 
 were either in evening dress, in some picturesque national 
 costume, or in uniform. Nothing could be more striking 
 than the immense variety of the latter. 
 
 " There were Turks in fezes and turbans, surtouts liter- 
 ally covered with gold lace, and in long robes of gorgeous 
 colors; Hungarian magnates in blue velvet tunics be- 
 jewelled all over, crimson pantaloons fringed with gold, 
 and felt hats with diamond aigrettes and clusters of 
 feathers ; Japanese dignitaries in cloth of gold, with light 
 blue petticoats, scarlet breeches, white stockings, patent 
 leather shoes, and spiked hats fringed with gold or silver 
 lace ; Tunisians in green and gold, with diamond orna- 
 ments in front of their crimson fezes ; Austrian uhlans in 
 their well-known and picturesque uniforms ; Persians wear- 
 ing the tall national head-dress ; and Siamese in their flat 
 hats, short brocaded tunics, and baggy satin breeches. 
 
 " There were, moreover, the members of the Council of 
 State, senators, deputies, and prefects in their elaborately 
 embroidered costumes ; with the lord mayors of London 
 and Dublin, aldermen, sheriffs, councilmen, masters of 
 arts, and doctors of divinity. Bej'ond these were endless 
 varieties of French, Russian, German, Italian, Dutch, 
 and British military and naval uniforms. 
 
 " Stars, crosses, and ribbons of every order under the 
 sun, met the eye in all directions." 
 
 The proceedings were opened with Gluck's overture to 
 " Iphigenie en Aulide." 
 
 At its conclusion M. Rouher, vice-president of the Ex- 
 position, addressed the emperor at considerable length. 
 
 The emperor thus replied : 
 
 " Gentlemen, after an interval of twelve years I have 
 come for the second time to distribute rewards to those 
 
EMPRESS EUGENIE. 463 
 
 who have most distinguished themselves in those works 
 which enrich nations, embellish life, and soften manners. 
 The poets of antiquity sang the praises of those great 
 games in which the various nations of Greece assembled to 
 contend for the prize of the race. "What would they say 
 to-day were they to be present at these Olympic games of 
 the world, in which all nations, contesting by intellect, 
 seem to launch themselves simultaneously in the infinite 
 career of progress towards an ideal incessantly approached, 
 without ever being able to be attained ? From all parts 
 of the earth the representatives of science, of art, and of 
 industry have hastened to vie with each other, and we 
 may say that peoples and kings have both come to do 
 honor to the efforts of labor, and to crown them by their 
 presence with the idea of conciliation and peace. The 
 Exhibition of 1867 may be justty termed ' universal,' for 
 it unites the elements of all the riches of the globe. 
 
 " Side by side with the latest improvements of modern 
 art appear the products of the remotest ages, so that 
 they represent, at one and the same time, the genius of all 
 nations and all ages. 
 
 4 ' It is universal, for in addition to the marvels luxury 
 brings forth for the few, it displays also that which is 
 demanded by the necessities of the many. 
 
 " The interests of the laboring classes have never aroused 
 more lively solicitude. Their moral and material wants, 
 their education, the conditions of life at a cheap rate, the 
 most productive combinations of association, have been 
 the object of patient inquiries and serious study. Thus 
 all improvements go forward. If science, by turning 
 matter to account, liberates labor, the cultivation of the 
 mind, by subduing vices, prejudices, and vulgar passions, 
 also liberates humanity. 
 
464 EMPRESS EUGENIE. 
 
 li Let us congratulate ourselves, gentlemen, upon hav- 
 ing received among us the majority of the sovereigns 
 and princes of Europe, and so many distinguished visitors. 
 Let us be proud of having shown to them France as she 
 is, great, prosperous, and free. One must be destitute 
 of all patriotic faith to doubt her greatness ; must close 
 one's eyes to evidence to deny her prosperity ; must mis- 
 understand her institutions, tolerant sometimes even of 
 license, not to behold in them liberty. I thank the impe- 
 rial commission, the members of the jury and the different 
 committees, for the intelligent zeal they have displayed in 
 the accomplishment of their tasks. I thank them also in 
 the name of the Prince Imperial, whom, notwithstanding 
 his tender age, I have been happy to associate in this 
 great undertaking of which he will retain the remembrance. 
 I hope the Exhibition of 1867 will mark a new era of har- 
 mony and progress. Assured that Providence blesses the 
 efforts of all who, like ourselves, desire good, I believe in 
 the definitive triumph of the great principles of morality 
 and justice, which, while satisfying all legitimate desires, 
 are alone able to consolidate thrones, to elevate nations, 
 and to ennoble humanity." 
 
 The names of the exhibitors to whom the chief prizes 
 gold or silver medals had been awarded were then 
 read. They had been marshalled in procession, two and 
 two, under the distinctive banners of the various groups 
 into which the Exhibition was divided. The whole num- 
 ber was about nine hundred. One by one, as each name 
 was called, the exhibitors ascended the steps of the throne, 
 and received from the hands of the emperor the ribbon 
 belonging to the decoration of the Legion of Honor. At 
 the close of the distribution, the imperial party, leaving 
 their seats on the throne, and headed by the Corps Diplo- 
 
EMPRESS EUGENIE. 465 
 
 matique, passed entirely round the hall, amid the most 
 enthusiastic plaudits, while the orchestra of twelve hun- 
 dred pieces played the chorus of Handel's oratorio of 
 "Judas Maccabeus," "See! the Conquering Hero 
 comes." 
 
 In the matter of dress, if in no other, the name of the 
 Empress Eugenie will be historical. It was within her 
 province to decide what fashions should prevail in France, 
 in Europe, in America, and in some parts of Asia ; and 
 the marvellous modes she introduced among the ladies of 
 all countries have immortalized her. Her own costumes 
 were of the most elaborate construction, and were changed 
 with the greatest frequency. She displayed three or four 
 dresses in the course of each day, and even the most ex- 
 pensive were never worn more than twice. Many writers 
 derived their income from describing in the journals of 
 the day these successive " creations " of the Paris milliner 
 and dressmaker. 
 
 She accumulated a collection of fans, furs, laces, and 
 jewels that probably surpassed any other in existence. 
 
 During the period that elapsed between her marriage 
 and her flight she received twenty thousand dollars pin- 
 money every month, which sum she never failed to spend 
 to the last cent. 
 
 Never in modern times have the fashions been more 
 elaborate and extravagant than while this * ' queen of 
 fashion" occupied the palaces of France. 
 
 Eugenie was fitted by nature to play the part of Lady 
 Bountiful and dwell in the House Beautiful. The city of 
 Paris voted her a large sum for the purchase of jewels ; 
 she accepted the money, but requested permission to 
 devote it to founding an institution for the education of 
 young girls of the working classes. She further bestowed 
 
466 EMPRESS EUGENIE. 
 
 in charity twenty thousand dollars of a present of fifty 
 thousand given her at the same time by the emperor ; and 
 her reign was marked by many other striking gifts to 
 charitable and scientific objects. 
 
 The empress was partial to colored servitors. At one 
 time she had a Nubian page, and on his death took a 
 young Abyssinian into her service, whose daily duty it 
 was to stand immediately behind her chair at dinner, in 
 front of the line of tall, fresh-colored, clean-shaven, pow- 
 dered lacqueys, in green, scarlet, and gold liveries, who 
 encircled the imperial dining-table. 
 
 The empress gave also a great number of splendid and 
 costly entertainments at the Tuileries, Campiegne, Fon- 
 tainebleau, and elsewhere. State balls were numerous, 
 especially during the latter years of the Empire. These 
 took place usually at the Tuileries. The invitations, hav- 
 ing been drawn up by the high chamberlain from a care- 
 fully prepared list of isome ten thousand persons, were 
 distributed by mounted servants in the imperial livery of 
 green and gold. 
 
 The guests arrived at the vast marble vestibule, and, 
 ascending the grand staircase, were received on the land- 
 ing by a splendidly attired official, who took from them 
 their cards of invitation. The ball took place in the Salle 
 des Marckeaux, the largest and most splendidly decorated 
 salon in the palace, and at its conclusion supper was 
 served in the Galerie de Diane. All the old forms of 
 etiquette in vogue at the court of Louis XIV. were re- 
 vived ; and had the Grand Monarque been present at a 
 ball in the Tuileries Palace, he would no doubt have felt 
 as much at home, as far as all forms and ceremonies were 
 concerned, as in his own Galerie des Glaces, at Versailles. 
 
 Twice during the absence of the ernperor, once in 1865, 
 
EMPRESS EUGENIE. 467 
 
 when he was in Algeria, and again in 1870, during the 
 Franco-Prussian War, Eugenie was left the nominal head 
 of the state, with the title of Empress-Regent. At the 
 opening of the Suez Canal, in 1869, she was present in 
 the yacht I'Aigle, and took a chief part in the celebration. 
 The Aigle formed one of the ' ' inauguration fleet " of 
 forty-five vessels, and took the lead in making the pas- 
 sage to the Red Sea, where, with the empress on board, 
 it arrived on the 22d of November, returning the next 
 day to the Mediterranean. 
 
 "It was mid-afternoon on such a May day as is seen 
 only under Parisian skies. But the invitation of the sky 
 could not alone account for the multitudes thronging the 
 leafy park, the blooming parterres of the gardens, and the 
 broad ways of the Champs Elysees. The court was about 
 to set out for St. Cloud, and the pleasure-loving Parisians 
 were to be treated to a spectacle. 
 
 " Gorgeous lines of soldiery formed in statuesque ranks 
 along the pebbly walks and hot asphalt ways facing the 
 palace. Save for the waving plumes, the glistening wall 
 rested immobile and silent as the granite sphinxes whose 
 solemn eyes blinked sleepily under the ardent sunshine. 
 There was just the perception of a movement in the shining 
 cuirasses as the swelling notes of a cavalry bugle echoed 
 and re-echoed in sonorous blasts through the crowded 
 aisles of the park and died away far over the turrets of 
 the palace. The Imperial Guards, flaming in scarlet and 
 glittering casques, formed in serried ranks from the Rivoli 
 gates and the Place du Carrousel to the borders of the 
 Seine. Outriders in the magenta and gold of the line 
 dashed in excited movement along the gravelled road- 
 ways, adjusting the obstacles, for the imperial advent. 
 Squadrons of the guards formed on each side of the wide 
 
468 EMPRESS EUGENIE. 
 
 way through which the procession was to pass to the 
 Champs Elysees. On a signal from the trumpets, they 
 divided, facing their horses inward, and waited immov- 
 able as the Egyptian figures at the golden gate. A thin 
 column of smoke curled upward from the Arch of the 
 Carrousel, a loud, cracking detonation of artillery an- 
 nounced that majesty, was about to leave the palace, 
 another that majesty was in the vestibule, and the long 
 line of fire made by the red-breeched troopers moved, as 
 with one impulse, into an attitude of respectful attention." 
 From the central porch of the Tuileries, as the guards 
 came to a salute, a short, stout figure, clad in a gentle- 
 man's walking-dress, appeared, and slowly descended the 
 velvet-carpeted steps. To the salutations of the soldiers 
 and the populace he slightly raised his hat. The crowd 
 in the rear broke into shouts of "Vive I'Empereur!" 
 Halting, as the lackeys held the door of the landau open, 
 the emperor half turned. 
 
 A lady, tall, slight, and graceful, appeared in the group 
 at the door- way. She was speaking with animation to 
 the chamberlain, with her face to the multitude. Her 
 black eyes were full of life and vivacity, and her hair, 
 coiled in great masses over her shapely head, shone like 
 burnished copper as the sunbeams fall upon it. " She 
 tripped lightly down the broad steps, a sunshade in her 
 right hand serving as a walking-cane, while with her left 
 she upheld with charming daintiness a robe of silver-gray 
 color. As the outlines of her figure became distinct upon 
 the crimson carpet, a tumultuous cry of ' Vive VImp6ra- 
 trice ! ' resounded far back in the shrubberies of the gar- 
 den. The lady bowed with gracious recognition, and, 
 giving her hand to the emperor, stepped into the landau. 
 At the same moment a graceful youth of fourteen, 
 
EMPRESS EUGENIE. 469 
 
 mounted on a jet-black pony, shot out from the entrance 
 of the Carrousel, and riding close to the carriage, reined 
 in suddenly, and raising his hat, brought it down to the 
 saddle as he bent to the occupants. ' Vive le Prince Im- 
 perial!' shouted the crowd; and the emperor, empress, 
 and prince bowed gravely in response. 
 
 " The trumpets broke into another long blast, the pos- 
 tilions touched their horses ; majesty was en route, the 
 prince riding beside the imperial carriage, the troopers 
 falling into groups of four. 
 
 "Who of all that crowd, filling the palace gardens and 
 thronging the banks of the. Seine, would have then told 
 Ccesar that he should never again pass those fateful por- 
 tals in state? 
 
 " The Parisians afterwards recalled the event as the 
 Romans had the journey of the great Julius from the 
 tearful pleadings of Calpurnia to the base of Pompey's 
 statue. But there was nothing of the Ides of March in 
 the emperor's reception on the present occasion. The 
 acclamations of the multitude were spontaneous and 
 hearty, and all hats flew off when the benignant smiles 
 of Eugenie supplemented the gracious inclinations of 
 Napoleon." 
 
 On the 15th of July, 1870, Louis Napoleon declared 
 war with Prussia. The numerous vicissitudes of hik 
 eventful life may have suggested to him the possibility 
 that the war, if long protracted, might prove unfavorable 
 to his hopes ; but no seer could have predicted to him 
 that, in seven weeks from that day, he would be de- 
 feated, dethroned, and a prisoner in the hands of the one 
 man among all the crowned heads of Europe whom he most 
 hated, and that all the hopes which he had cherished of 
 the perpetuation of a Bonaparte dynasty in France would 
 be at an end. 
 
470 EMPRESS EUGENIE. 
 
 We cannot, in this short sketch, attempt to portray the 
 progress of this war, which, in its rapid movement, its 
 terrible destructiveness, and its stupendous results, is 
 without a parallel in history. Suffice it that, with the 
 defeat of the French army at Sedan, the star fell. A.u 
 empire which had progressed through nearly twenty 
 years, ran out in a moment like a reel of thread. Napo- 
 leon was sent as state prisoner to Wilhelmshohe, the 
 Germans entered France, marched to Paris, and William, 
 king of Prussia, slept in the palace of the Grand Mo- 
 narque. 
 
 And now occurred one of those strange anomalies 
 which the history of France so often presents. 
 
 It is the 18th of January, 1871. The grand gallery of 
 Versailles is filled with an eager, anxious throng. But it 
 is not such a throng as has been wont to gather here. 
 Where are the cavaliers, with their red-heeled boots and 
 slashed doublets, and the grandes dames, with their lofty 
 plumes and flashing jewels ? 
 
 The top-boot, the clanking spur, the sword, and sabre- 
 tache, these are the accoutrements of this band of stern, 
 martial men who now stand beneath Le Brun's gorgeous 
 frescoes. At one end of the gallery a throne is erected, and 
 its presence reminds us of that silver throne erected here 
 in 1685, at whose foot the Doge of Genoa bowed in hom- 
 age, and upon whose summit, the personification of pom- 
 pous pride and royal prerogative, stood King Louis XIV. 
 But no king or emperor of France stands upon the throne 
 of the Versailles gallery on this 18th day of January, 
 1871. A king is there, it is true, but he is William, king 
 of Prussia, who is this day to be proclaimed Emperor of 
 Germany. It seems like fate, like an avenging Nemesis, 
 that in this palace of Versailles, whose marble portals 
 
EMPRESS EUGENIE. 471 
 
 bear the inscription, " To all the glories of France," in 
 this Grande Galerie des Glaces, the scene of so many 
 glories, and triumphs of the houses of Bourbon and of 
 Bonaparte, the crown of United Germany should be 
 placed, with mighty shout and loud acclaim, upon the 
 head of that stern old warrior, William I. of Hohen- 
 zollern. 
 
 The last four weeks of her abode in France the Em- 
 press Eugenie spent at the Tuileries. Those were days 
 of confusion and distress. The series of defeats which 
 culminated at Sedan had already begun, and a proclama- 
 tion had appeared declaring Paris in a state of siege. 
 Still the empress was hopeful. "She thought with a 
 lady's romantic ideas about military possibilities," says 
 a narrator, "that everything could be retrieved by a 
 grand coup." 
 
 But then came the news of the emperor's surrender at 
 Sedan. Eugenie was up all night ; council after council 
 was held, as new reports and scraps of information ar- 
 rived. Finally it was decided that she should ride on 
 horseback through the streets of Paris, and herself pro- 
 claim to the unpopular legislature its dissolution. This 
 resolution, however, was never carried into effect, for lack 
 of a riding-dress ! A plain, black habit, with the cross of 
 the Legion of Honor pinned upon her breast, was what 
 she had decided to wear. Was it a fatality that out of 
 the three hundred and sixty dresses then hanging in their 
 wardrobes at the Tuileries, the needed one was missing? 
 A few days before there had been a general stampede of 
 servants, who had gone off, carrying great quantities of 
 imperial property, and the dark riding-dress, which the 
 empress now sought, had probablj* been among the spoils 
 of her domestics. There was only one habit to be found, 
 
472 EMPRESS EUGENIE. 
 
 and that was neither black nor plain. It was a dress of 
 gorgeous green, embroidered with gold, and designed to 
 be worn with a three-cornered Louis XV. hat, the costume 
 of the imperial hunt at Fontainebleau. This was pro- 
 nounced, with evident justice, to be too theatrical, and the 
 enterprise was consequently abandoned. 
 
 ' ' What grotesque mischances mar great destinies and 
 shift potent purposes ! " The lack of a spur by the mes- 
 senger whom Louis XVI. had sent to call M. de Machault 
 to the post of prime minister, delayed his departure, and 
 thus by giving Madame Adelaide time to write, in favor 
 of her friend the Count de Maurepas, to that feeblest of 
 monarchs who, not being able to withstand the strongly 
 worded appeal of his strong-minded aunt, recalled his 
 messenger as he was mounting his horse, caused an en- 
 tire change in the policy of the ministry of the kingdom. 
 
 And now ' ' the lack of a petticoat on the testimony 
 of Thiers himself, who spoke of it afterward brought 
 about the expulsion of a dynasty ; for had the woman, 
 pathetic in her misfortune, ridden out among the multi- 
 tude, like Elizabeth to Tilbury fort, the chivalrous senti- 
 ment of Paris would have acclaimed her, and the history 
 of a people would have been written in less lurid colors." 
 
 Upon the fourth of September, the mob so long feared 
 made its appearance. The infuriated insurgents to the 
 number of one hundred and fifty thousand crowded the 
 Tuileries gardens, the Place de la Concorde, and the 
 Champs Ely sees, shouting, "Down with the Empire! 
 down with Bonaparte ! death to the man of December ! " 
 
 At two o'clock in the afternoon, Signor Nigra, the 
 Italian ambassador, entered the empress' apartment, to 
 tell her that the time for flight had come. "You have 
 not an instant to lose," he said. " The revolutionists are 
 entering the palace by the Place du Carrousel" 
 
EMPBESS EUGENIE. 473 
 
 And now for the first time Eugenie's courage wavered ; 
 but she mastered her emotion, and giving her hand to 
 the ambassador, with a melancholy flash of her old im- 
 perial grandeur, said calmly, " I will take leave of our 
 friends." 
 
 "The door of the white drawing-room was thrown 
 open, and the empress appeared for a moment on the 
 threshold an inexpressibly touching figure, in her simple 
 black dress and white collar. She made a courtesy and 
 waved her hand, trying hard to smile, while many not 
 all of them women were sobbing aloud. Then, with 
 gentle persuasion, Prince Richard Metternich, the Aus- 
 trian ambassador, drew her back, and the door was closed 
 again." 
 
 Through the magnificent galleries of the Louvre, hung 
 with the masterpieces of Rubens, Van D} T ke, Leonardo, 
 Poussin, Claude, and the imperishable dynasties of art, 
 fled the Empress Eugenie and her few faithful followers. 
 
 The square of St. Germain L'Auxerrois was empty. 
 A cab stood by the curb. The veiled empress and Ma- 
 dame Carette, her lady-in-waiting, escorted by Signer 
 Nigra, Prince Metternich, and M. Ferdinand de Lesseps, 
 approached it. 
 
 Sinking back upon the cushions, Eugenie for an instant 
 raised her veil to catch a last glimpse of the Louvre. As 
 her eye rested on that fatal colonnade, where Catherine de' 
 Medici and the king had stood on the night of St. Bar- 
 tholomew, a little ragamuffin, seated on the stone founda- 
 tion of the golden railing, started up, shouting, " There is 
 the empress ! " 
 
 A group of artisans, lounging at the corner, vaguely 
 caught the cry and came forward. But M. Ferdinand de 
 Lesseps, with admirable presence of mind, caught the 
 
474 EMPRESS EUGENIE. 
 
 urchin, whirled him round and sent him sprawling in the 
 roadway, saying furiously : 
 
 " Ah, you are crying ' Vive VEmpereurJ are you? 
 That will teach you to hurrah for the Bonapartes, when 
 the Republic is proclaimed." 
 
 The group on the sidewalk approved this laudable 
 sentiment. M. de Lesseps sprang inside, with the em- 
 press. The cab was whirled away ; and thus ended for 
 Eugenie de Montijo the empty dream of greatness, by 
 which she had been so long beguiled. 
 
 Leaving Paris, she embarked on board the yacht Ga- 
 zelle, and was conveyed to England, where Victoria and 
 the royal family received her with great kindness, and 
 placed at her disposal the beautiful country residence of 
 Camden Place, Chiselhurst. Here she was joined by the 
 Prince Imperial, and later by Louis Napoleon. 
 
 "Camden Place, Chiselhurst, 1871. A gentleman 
 sixty-three years of age, a lady, and a youth of fifteen 
 are resting in the pleasure grounds of an English rural 
 mansion. This does not seem much. But this gentle- 
 man is he who, a twelvemonth since, was emperor of the 
 French nation, and the most powerful monarch in Europe. 
 He is a student and a writer as well as an actor of 
 history, which must have taught him the value of an im- 
 perial title. Can he think it worth the pursuit or posses- 
 sion, having once sat upon a throne which was perhaps 
 not so agreeable as his present seat on the Chiselhurst 
 garden-chair? If he desires, for himself or for his son, 
 to leave Camden Place, or a similar abode, and go back 
 to the Tuileries Palace, we can only say it is a matter of 
 taste." 
 
 But Louis Napoleon was not destined to behold again 
 the Tuileries Palace. On the 9th of January, 1873, he 
 
EMPRESS EUGENIE. 475 
 
 died, consoled by the presence of the empress, but not ol 
 the Prince Imperial, who, summoned from Woolwich, ar- 
 rived too late to see him alive. 
 
 All the hopes and affections of the widowed empress 
 then centred in her son, and his recent fate cannot but 
 be remembered. He joined the expedition to Zululand, 
 and on the first of June, 1879, perished by the javelins of 
 the savages while scouting with a few companions. On 
 the 10th of July, the body arrived in England, and on 
 the 12th the final ceremony took place at Chiselhurst. It 
 was a soldier's funeral, but there was no glare and glitter 
 of martial splendor. 
 
 Mind rather than matter was pre-eminent in giving 
 voice to the public sorrow. At the head of the military 
 pageant, whose every feature was pervaded with a genuine 
 pathos, marched the cadets of the Royal Military Acad- 
 emy, Woolwich, with arms reversed ; then, to the solemn 
 strains of the "Dead March," the Royal Artillery Band; 
 then the'cross before the gun ; and then the gun, drawn 
 by six dark-brown horses by whose sides rode mounted 
 artillerymen. The coffin above the gun was wrapped in 
 the English and French flags. The sword of the prince, 
 his belt, and sabre-tache were placed upon it ; while on 
 a cushion were the great cross and ribbon of the Legion 
 of Honor. 
 
 By the side of the coffin walked the pall-bearers, the 
 Duke of Cambridge, the Duke of Connaught, the Crown 
 Prince of Sweden and Norway, and M. Rouher on the 
 left. The Duke of Edinburgh, the Prince of Wales, 
 Prince Leopold, and the Duke of Bassano on the right. 
 Behind the coffin came the prince's favorite horse, " Stag," 
 caparisoned in the white and silver starred trappings of 
 the imperial stable, and led by M. Gamble, the faithful 
 
476 EMPRESS EUGENIE. 
 
 retainer who had attended the baptism of the prince, and 
 who now followed his coffin. Next came the chief mourn- 
 ers, Prince Napoleon and his sons, Prince Victor and 
 Prince Louis ; Prince Lucien Bonaparte, Prince Joachim 
 Murat, Prince Napoleon Charles Bonaparte, and Prince 
 Louis Murat. 
 
 After these came the great officers of the imperial 
 crown, and many personages of princely rank not related 
 by kindred. 
 
 So mournful a ceremony was not regarded in the light 
 of a spectacle, and even the elements accorded with the 
 nature of the scene. There was no sun to flash from the 
 polished helmets of the Lancers, or linger on the gold 
 of the splendidly mounted Horse- Artillery. 
 
 " It was an unusual and impressive sight to see that 
 strangely and variously composed line of soldiers on 
 horseback, and priests and mourners on foot, moving 
 slowly along the serpentine road across the great, uneven 
 plain of the common, with thousands of spectators 
 stationary on either hand." 
 
 To those who thought of the widowed, childless empress 
 in her lonely house, and knew that the chief mourners 
 were princes, and that the queen was watching the pro- 
 cession from her black tribune, unless she had left it to 
 console the sorrowing mother, the sight was much more 
 than impressive. 
 
 " The tragic elements which prevailed at the death of 
 the prince, the inexpressible desolation of the imperial 
 mother, the lessons of mutability in human affairs which 
 the case enforced upon the mind, the remembrance of the 
 virtues of the departed young man, and the tale of broken 
 hopes, baffled aspirations, and defeated purposes, which 
 the circumstances so clearly exhibited, preoccupied the 
 
EMPRESS EUGENIE. 477 
 
 thoughts and feelings of the mourners, and shut off for 
 the time being all interest in the mere external traits of 
 the scene. The realities to which it pointed stood out so 
 clearly from the outward semblances in which they were 
 pictured, that the latter were forgotten, and the over- 
 powering force of the former were exclusively recognized. 
 
 " Seldom in recent times has any public ceremonial so 
 closely touched the hearts of those who took part in it." 
 
 And now in the little Roman Catholic church at Chisel- 
 hurst, by the side of the emperor his father, lies all that 
 was mortal of Napoleon Eugene Louis Jean Joseph, 
 Prince Imperial. % 
 
 Requiescat in pace. 
 
 Under the elms at Chiselhurst, at the close of a mild 
 spring afternoon, we may see a lady walking. Her fig- 
 ure, once so straight and graceful, is slightly bowed with 
 age, and her fast-whitening hair is covered by a widow's 
 cap. And as she turns toward us her sad face, still retain- 
 ing the traces of its former loveliness, we recognize her 
 whom we have seen seated, amid the pomp and pageantry 
 of a court, upon the throne at the Tuileries Palace, and 
 flying with her scanty escort through the galleries of the 
 Louvre, Eugenie de Montijo, Comtesse de T6ba, the 
 once brilliant empress of the French. 
 
478 QUEEN VICTORIA. 
 
 QUEEN VICTORIA. 
 
 A.D. 1819. 
 
 " Broad based upon her people's will, 
 And compassed by the inviolate sea/' 
 
 TENNYSON, To the Queen. 
 
 FIFTY years a queen ! and still seated upon her 
 ancestral throne. This is the remarkable record of 
 England's present sovereign. This fact alone would 
 make the reign of Queen Victoria illustrious. But more 
 than this, she has reigned during one half of this marvel- 
 lous nineteenth century a period phenomenal among the 
 centuries of history. 
 
 Although the Victorian Era has not produced a Shake- 
 speare, a Homer, a Dante, or a Milton, it will be remem- 
 bered as an epoch of astounding progress, not only in 
 England and Europe, but throughout the civilized world. 
 
 The unprecedented onrush of the mighty waves of 
 enlightened civilization, bearing to all lands the blessings 
 of Christian liberty ; the flashing and dazzling lights 
 of wonderful inventions and results of scientific re- 
 searches, which have belted the world with gleaming 
 bands of iron, chained the lightning at man's bidding, 
 caught and imprisoned the waves of sound, unlocked 
 the secrets of the earth, and almost annihilated space 
 and time, these are some of the marvellous achievements 
 of the nineteenth century which make the histor}- of the 
 past one hundred years read like the story of the most 
 amazing transformations ever invented by the imagina- 
 
QUEEN VICTORIA. 479 
 
 tion in Oriental fairy tales or attributed to the weird 
 magicians of the Arabian Nights. 
 
 Telegraphs, railroads, telephones, electric lights, phono- 
 graphs, photography, the discovery of petroleum, the 
 improved use of steam, the invention of Bessemer steel, 
 and the practical use of gaslight for the illumination of 
 cities, are all numbered among the inventions and dis- 
 coveries of the nineteenth century. 
 
 But more wonderful still, perhaps, is the rise of the 
 mighty Republic of the United States, which, though 
 beginning in the eighteenth century as an independent 
 power, has, in the short space of a little more than one 
 hundred years, taken the foremost place in the rank of 
 nations, and stands to-day the miracle of the nineteenth 
 century. 
 
 To have reigned for fifty years, the sovereign of one of 
 the greatest powers of the world, during such a time of 
 human progress and religious liberty, will make the Vic- 
 torian Age shine forth in the pages of history as one of 
 the most resplendent epochs in the annals of the world. 
 
 Alexandrina Victoria, called by her German relations 
 "the little Mayflower," was born on the 24th of May, 
 1819. She was the granddaughter of George III. of 
 England ; her father being Edward, Duke of Kent, fourth 
 son of that monarch. 
 
 Her mother was Victoria, the sister of the Duke of Saxe- 
 Coburg, and widow of the Prince of Leiningen. The 
 baby Princess Victoria was left fatherless at the age of 
 eight months, and an establishment was formed for the 
 future queen at Kensington Palace, under the superintend- 
 ence of her mother, the Duchess of Kent. The educa- 
 tion of Victoria was carefully watched, although she was 
 not allowed to know that she was heir to the throne, 
 
480 QUEEN VICTORIA. 
 
 until she was twelve years old. At this time it was 
 thought best to make kuown to the little princess her 
 future prospects ; and her tutor, Dr. Davys, gave her a 
 lesson in tracing out the genealogy of English royalty. 
 At length the young princess exclaimed, with some aston- 
 ishment, " Mamma, I cannot see who is to come after 
 Uncle William, unless it is myself." 
 
 Upon being told that this was the fact, she said in an 
 unusually thoughtful manner for one so young : 
 
 u It is a very solemn thing. Many a child would boast, 
 but they don't know the difficulty. There is splendor, 
 but there is responsibility ; " then, with an expressive 
 gesture, she earnestly continued, " I will be good" And 
 the verdict of fifty years of sovereignty has been, 
 " Good mother, queen, and wife." 
 
 At' five o'clock, on the morning of the 21st of June, 
 1837, the Princess Victoria, then a young girl of eighteen, 
 was awakened from her slumbers and saluted as queen. 
 Hastily throwing over her night-robes a loose wrapper, 
 and with slippers on her bare feet, and hair in unregarded 
 disorder, she was ushered into an apartment where stood 
 the Archbishop of Canterbury and Lord Couyngham, who 
 had just arrived at Kensington, and demanded to see the 
 " Queen" immediately. State business will not wait for 
 ladies' toilets, and the deshabille of the young princess 
 was rather impressive than unbecoming, as the grave 
 elderly men bent the knee before her and addressed her 
 as " Your Majesty." The king was dead, and Victoria 
 was queen. Even as the royal salutation fell upon her 
 youthful ears, the fair young girl seemed in a moment to 
 don a new garment of dignity and self-possession. She 
 had been always retiring, and obedient to others, to a 
 marked degree, but as the words "Your Majesty" were 
 
QUEEN VICTORIA. 481 
 
 addressed to her for the first time, she instantly put out 
 her hand to receive the customary kiss of allegiance, and 
 even attired as she was, looked a very sovereign. From 
 that moment Victoria assumed all the dignity and preroga- 
 tives of a queen. She had been the most docile of 
 daughters ; but as queen, the Duchess of Kent, her mother, 
 received only her filial affection, and was allowed no privi- 
 lege of dictating the affairs of state, or even advising her 
 ro} r al daughter regarding her actions or duties as sover- 
 eign. 
 
 The young queen took as her residence Buckingham 
 Palace, making Windsor Castle her country home. Mr. 
 Charles Greville says of her at this time : ' ' The queen's 
 manner and bearing are perfect. It is the remarkable union 
 of naivett, kindness, nature, good nature, with propri- 
 ety and dignity, which make her so admirable and so en- 
 dearing to those about her, as she certainly is. I have 
 been repeatedly told that they are all warmly attached to 
 her, but albeit all feel the impossibility of for a moment 
 losing sight of the respect which they owe her. She 
 never ceases to be a queen, and is always the most charm- 
 ing, cheerful and obliging, unaffected queen in the world." 
 
 On the 28th of June, 1838, occurred the coronation of 
 Queen Victoria. The famous musical composer, Felix 
 Mendelssohn, who was then in London, thus writes con- 
 cerning the imposing pageant : " At a quarter-past twelve 
 the procession began to arrive at Westminster Abbey, and 
 by an hour later the whole had been absorbed in the 
 cathedral. Nothing more brilliant could be seen than all 
 the beautiful horses, with their rich harness, the carriages 
 and grooms covered with gold embroideries, and the 
 splendidly dressed people inside. All this, too, was en- 
 circled by the venerable gray buildings, and the crowds 
 
4$2 QUEEN VICTORIA. 
 
 of common people under the dull sky, which was only now 
 and then pierced by sunbeams ; at first, indeed, it rained. 
 But when the golden, fairy-like carriage, supported by 
 Tritons with their tridents and surmounted by the great 
 crown of England, drove up, and the graceful girl was 
 seen bowing right and left when at that instant the 
 mass of people was completely hidden by their waving 
 handkerchiefs and raised hats, while one roar of cheering 
 almost drowned the pealing of the bells, the blare of the 
 trumpets, and thundering of the guns, one had to pinch 
 one's self to make sure it was not all a dream out of the 
 Arabian Nights. Then fell a sudden silence, the silence 
 of a church, after the queen had entered the cathedral. 
 I mixed among the crowd, walked up to the door of the 
 abbey, and peered into the solemn obscurity ; but my in- 
 voluntary emotion was dispelled by a sense of the ludi- 
 crous as I looked closely at their dressed-up, modern cinque- 
 centi halberdiers (the beef-eaters) , whose cheeks suggest 
 beef, and whose noses tell tales of whiskey and claret." 
 
 Victoria wore a royal robe of crimson velvet, furred 
 with ermine and bordered with gold. A small circlet of 
 gold banded her head, and the collar of the Order of the 
 Garter adorned her neck. Three swords were borne 
 before her, emblems of justice, defence, and mercy. Her 
 train was carried by eight young maidens of high rank, 
 dressed in cloth of silver, with roses in their hair. After 
 the queen entered the cathedral and advanced to the foot 
 of the throne, she knelt there for a moment in devotion. 
 As she rose, the Archbishop of Canterbury turned her 
 round to each of the four corners of the abbey, saying to 
 the assembled people : " Sirs, I here present unto you the 
 undoubted queen of this realm. Will ye all swear to do 
 her homage?" Each time he asked the question the air 
 rang with shouts of " Long live Queen Victoria ! " 
 
QUEEN VICTORIA. 483 
 
 The anointing followed, whereupon the archbishop 
 gave her his benediction. The primate then placed her on 
 the throne, or rather in St. Edward's chair, used by the 
 sovereigns in this ceremony since Edward the Confessor. 
 The young queen then received the ring, betrothing her to 
 her people, and the orb of empire a small globe sur- 
 mounted by a cross was placed in her hand, and the 
 sceptre of rule was given to her. The crown of England 
 was then laid upon her head by the archbishop, and at the 
 same moment peers and peeresses donned their coronets ; 
 bishops, their mitres ; heralds, their caps ; the trumpets 
 sounded, the drums beat, the cannon boomed, and the 
 Tower guns answered, and the shouts of the people broke 
 forth in loud and joyous acclamations. The archbishop 
 then presented the Bible to her Majesty, and bent in hom- 
 age. He was followed by bishops and lords, according to 
 their rank, who each in turn, lifting their coronets, 
 touched the crown on the queen's head, and repeated the 
 oath of allegiance. 
 
 The Communion Service followed ; and the queen, in 
 homage to the King of kings, removed her crown while 
 she received the sacrament. Then, resuming her royal 
 diadem, with the sceptre in one hand, and the orb of em- 
 pire in the other, the crowned queen of England left the 
 abbe} 7 , followed by her imposing retinue. 
 
 Mr. Charles Greville gives us this little bit of human 
 nature enacted between these pompous scenes of solemn 
 ceremony : 
 
 "Lord John Thynne, who officiated for the Dean of 
 Westminster, told me that nobody knew what was to be 
 done, except the archbishop and himself (who had 
 rehearsed), Lord Willoughby (who is experienced in 
 these matters) , and the Duke of Wellington ; and conse- 
 
484 QUEEN VICTORIA. 
 
 quently there was a continual difficulty and embarrass- 
 ment, and the queen never knew what she was to do next. 
 They made her leave her chair and enter into St. Edward's 
 chapel before the prayers were concluded, much to the dis- 
 comfiture of the archbishop. She said to John Thynne, 
 4 Pray tell me what I am to do, for they don't know.' 
 And at the end, when the orb was put in her hand, she 
 said, < What am I to do with it? ' 4 Your Majesty is to 
 carry it, if you please, in your hand.' 'Am I?' she 
 said ; ' it is very heavy.' The ruby ring was made for 
 her little finger instead of the fourth, on which the Rubric 
 prescribes that it should be put. When the archbishop 
 was to put it on, she extended the former, but he said it 
 must be put on the latter. She said it was too small, and 
 she could not get it on. He said it was right to put it 
 'there, and as he insisted, she yielded, but had first to 
 take off her other rings, and then this was forced on ; but 
 it hurt her very much, and as soon as the ceremony was 
 over she was obliged to bathe her finger in iced water in 
 .order to get it off." 
 
 Most royal marriages have little to do with love and 
 sentiment, but that of Queen Victoria was a delightful ex- 
 ception. 
 
 It is a pretty scene, and one full of fascinating charm, 
 which presents the young queen making her offer of mar- 
 riage to the handsome young Prince Albert, son of the 
 Duke of Saxe-Coburg-Saalgeld. 
 
 As she was a sovereign, the prince could not with pro- 
 priety make the offer to her, and so the blushing girl, now 
 the ivoman rather than the queen, in the presence of the 
 youth who had already gained her love, forgot the sov- 
 ereign, as she timidly took this momentous step. 
 
 Their married life was beautiful and happy, and within 
 
QUEEN VICTORIA. 485 
 
 the sacred circle of such a love-life none have right to 
 enter, even though royal lives are considered public 
 property. No shadow seems to have come between their 
 perfect confidence ; and the sweetest tribute to the char- 
 acter of Queen Victoria fell from the lips of her dying 
 husband, when twenty years after, she bent over his death- 
 bed, and he lifted his trembling hand and stroked her 
 cheek, murmuring, " Liebes Fraiichen " (dear little wife), 
 " Gutes Weibchen" (good little wife), and resting his 
 aching head upon her shoulder, saying, " It is very com- 
 fortable so, dear child," and having kissed her, fell asleep 
 in her arms, to waken no more on this side the river of 
 death. 
 
 We can only enumerate the most important political 
 events of Queen Victoria's reign, without detailed de- 
 scription. The Victorian Era will only rightly take its 
 place in the annals of history when the entire epoch 
 shall have become the past. While the present is weav- 
 ing the history for the future upon the loom of time, 
 it is impossible clearly to discern the intricacies of the 
 pattern, or rightly to estimate the importance of the vari- 
 ous-colored threads which are being employed to work 
 out the finished design. Only when the epoch has become 
 past history, can we truly measure its importance in the 
 annals of the world. 
 
 Although during the past fifty years there has been no 
 change in the sovereign of England, there have been vast 
 and momentous changes in the parties which control the 
 government of that nation. Prominent men in the minis- 
 try have arisen and declined, and the position of the Eng- 
 lish people to-day, as regards their influence in political 
 affairs, is much changed from the comparatively insignifi- 
 cant part they played in past epochs. ,No longer does a 
 
486 QUEEN VICTORIA. 
 
 despotic Elizabeth hold the lives of her people subject to 
 the caprices of her individual will ; and more and more 
 clearly is the voice of that people, not only heard, but 
 heeded, even in the House of Lords. 
 
 At the time of Victoria's coronation, a Whig ministry 
 was in power, led by Viscount Melbourne. 
 
 Queen Victoria was much attached to her first premier, 
 Lord Melbourne. But soon changes took place in the 
 ministry. The Conservatives, led by Sir Robert Peel, 
 came into power. Sir Robert Peel, remembering the per- 
 nicious influence of women-intriguers in the time of Queen 
 Anne, insisted that the ladies of Victoria's household 
 should be changed with the change of the ministry. But 
 Victoria was a very different woman and sovereign from 
 the weak-minded Anne. With indignation, she wrote : 
 
 u They wanted to deprive me of my ladies, and I sup- 
 pose they would deprive me next of my dressers and my 
 housemaids ; but I will show them that I am queen of 
 England." And show them she did, and the Conserva- 
 tives were obliged to yield and retire, and Lord Mel- 
 bourne was recalled to office. 
 
 But in 1841, the Whigs were again succeeded by the 
 Conservatives ; and Sir Robert Peel became prime minis- 
 ter. He was succeeded in 1846 by Lord John Russell, 
 who was placed in power by the combined efforts of the 
 Protectionists and Whigs. 
 
 The Revolution in France, which resulted in the over- 
 throw of Louis Philippe and the ascension to the French 
 throne of Prince Louis Napoleon, as Napoleon III., oc- 
 casioned outbursts of the people in various parts of 
 Europe. There were wild threats of an insurrection in 
 London, but the scare passed over, and the preservation 
 of order was secured without bloodshed. 
 
QUEEN VICTORIA. 487 
 
 The renowned Duke of Wellington was the chief mili- 
 tary authority in England, and the leader in the House of 
 Lords up to the time of his death, in 1852, in his eighty- 
 fourth year. The queen greatly mourned his loss. She 
 had given him the distinguished honor of standing god- 
 father to one of her own children, Prince Arthur, and 
 when she heard the news of his death she wrote : 
 
 " What a loss ! One cannot think of this country with- 
 out the duke, our immortal hero. In him centred almost 
 every earthly honor a .subject could possess. Above 
 party, looked up to by all, revered by the whole nation, 
 the friend of the sovereign." 
 
 In this same year the Conservatives again came into 
 power, with the Earl of Derby as premier. We cannot 
 give the various changes in the English ministry during 
 Victoria's reign. Suffice it to say, the Derby ministry 
 retired in 1858, and were succeeded by the Palmerston 
 ministry. Again, Lord Palmerston was obliged by cir- 
 cumstances to resign, and Lord Derby again came into 
 office. But he was soon deposed, and Lord Palmerston 
 returned to office as prime minister. On the death of 
 Viscount Palmerston in 1865, Lord John Russell again 
 became premier, but was soon defeated by the Conserva- 
 tives, who came into power with the Earl of Derby, and 
 Mr. Benjamin Disraeli. Lord Derby afterwards resigned, 
 and Disraeli became prime minister, and subsequently 
 received the title of Lord Beaconsfield. In 1880 Lord 
 Beaconsfield's party was defeated, and a Liberal ministry 
 came in with Mr. Gladstone. Later changes it is not 
 necessary to note here. 
 
 The English wars during the last fifty years have been 
 wars in Afghanistan, the quelling of various revolts in 
 India, England's alliance with France in the Crimean 
 
488 QUEEN VICTORIA. 
 
 War, the Abyssinian War in 1867, and the recent war 
 with Egypt, which resulted in the loss of several English- 
 men of note, especially the renowned and brave Chinese 
 Gordon, whose imprisonment and inhuman murder by 
 the savage followers of Mahdi, at Khartoun, called forth 
 loud denunciations against the military measures of the 
 English government. 
 
 The Franco-German War in 1870, resulting in the 
 downfall of Napoleon III., although not entered into by 
 England, was watched with intense anxiety by Queen 
 Victoria. Two of her daughters, the Princesses Victoria 
 and Alice, were obliged to see their husbands depart for 
 the seat of war, and the beloved Princess Alice devoted 
 herself with untiring energy to the care of the sick and 
 wounded soldiers. For the second time Queen Victoria 
 welcomed the fallen French monarchs to her realm. She 
 had received the family of Louis Philippe with kindness ; 
 and the Empress Eugenie, together with the dethroned 
 emperor and the young Prince Imperial, were equally the 
 recipients of her pity and sympathy. Strange vicissi- 
 tudes of fortune ! During the Crimean War, the emperor 
 and empress of the French had visited Queen Victoria, 
 their royal ally. 
 
 " How strange," says the queen's journal, " that I, the 
 granddaughter of George III., should dance with Em- 
 peror Napoleon, nephew of England's greatest enemy, 
 now my most intimate and nearest ally, only six years 
 ago, living in this country an exile, poor and unthought 
 of!" 
 
 This visit was afterwards returned by Queen Victoria 
 and the Prince Consort, when they were received by Na- 
 poleon III. with great magnificence in Paris, and attended 
 there the Grande Exposition; as the French were the first 
 
QUEEN VICTORIA. 489 
 
 to follow the example of the English in the great World's 
 Exhibition, which had been originally conceived of by 
 Prince Albert, when he devised the famous Crystal 
 Palace. 
 
 This great International Exhibition, inaugurated and 
 carried out by Prince Albert, this first Crystal Palace of 
 the world, of which the Paris Exposition, and others of 
 the kind, have been copies, some on a larger scale, but 
 none of equal beauty, is best described in Queen Victoria's 
 own words : 
 
 " The glimpse of the transept through the iron gates, 
 the waving palms, flowers, statues, myriads of people 
 filling the galleries and seats around, with the flourish of 
 trumpets as we entered, gave us a sensation I can never 
 forget, and I felt much moved. We went for a moment 
 to a little side-room, where we left our shawls, and where 
 we found mamma and Mary, and outside which were 
 standing the other princes. In a few seconds we pro- 
 ceeded, Albert leading me, having Vicky at his hand and 
 Bertie holding mine. The sight, as we came to the mid- 
 dle, where the steps and chair (which I did not sit on) 
 were placed, with the beautiful crystal fountain just in 
 front of it, was magical so vast, so glorious, so touch- 
 ing. One felt, as so many did whom I have since spoken 
 to, filled with devotion, more so than by any service I 
 have ever heard, the tremendous cheers; the joy ex- 
 pressed in every face ; the immensity of the building ; the 
 mixture of palms, flowers, trees, statues, fountains ; the 
 organ (with two hundred instruments, and six hundred 
 voices, which sounded like nothing) ; and my beloved 
 husband, the author of this Peace Festival, which united 
 the industry of all nations of the earth. All this was 
 moving indeed, and it was and is a day* to live forever. 
 
490 QUEEN VICTORIA. 
 
 God bless my dearest Albert! God bless my dearest 
 country, which has shown itself so great to-day ! One 
 felt grateful to the great God, who seemed to pervade all 
 and to bless all ! The only event it in the slightest degree 
 reminded me of was the Coronation, but this day's festi- 
 val was a thousand times superior. In fact, it is unique, 
 and can bear no comparison, from its peculiar beauty and 
 combination of such striking and different objects. I 
 mean the slight resemblance only as to its solemnity ; the 
 enthusiasm and cheering, too, were much more touching, 
 for in a church naturally all is silent. . . . That we felt 
 happy, thankful, I need not say ; proud of all that had 
 passed, of my darling husband's success, and of the 
 behavior of my good people." 
 
 Thus did the queen gracefully acknowledge her indebted- 
 ness to the devoted husband, who, refusing all titles but 
 that of Prince Consort, spent his life in ministering to 
 her greatness, and consecrated his superior talents of 
 mind in unostentatiously smoothing the difficulties in her 
 royal path. Prince Albert would, without doubt, have 
 made one of the best and most beneficent rulers that Eng- 
 land ever had, if he had been the sovereign ; it was to his 
 wise head and clear judgment that Victoria was indebted 
 for many of the popular measures of her government dur- 
 ing his life ; and his loss was indeed irreparable. And 
 her constant devotion to his memory is a more noble 
 tribute to him than the magnificent memorial erected by 
 her in his honor, even though the inscription reads : 
 
 To The Beloved Memory 
 
 OF 
 
 ALBERT, THE GREAT AND GOOD PRINCE CONSORT. 
 
 Raised by his Broken-Hearted Widow 
 
 VICTORIA R. 
 
QUEEN VICTORIA. 491 
 
 Charlotte M. Yonge, in her recent "Jubilee Book," 
 "The Victorian Half-Century," gives the following in- 
 cident : 
 
 " We have a charming picture of domestic life in the 
 letters of the great musical composer Mendelssohn, who 
 was in England in -the summer of 1842. ' Prince Albert 
 had asked me to go to him on Saturday, at two o'clock, 
 that I might try his organ before I left England. I found 
 him alone, and as we were talking away, the queen came 
 in, also alone, in a simple morning dress. She said she 
 was obliged to leave for Claremont in an hour, and then 
 suddenly interrupting herself, exclaimed, "But, good- 
 ness ! what a confusion ! " For the wind had littered 
 the whole room, and even the pedals of the organ (which, 
 by the way, made a very pretty feature of the room), 
 with leaves of music from a large portfolio that lay open. 
 As she spoke she knelt down and began picking up the 
 music ; Prince Albert helped, and I, too, was not idle. 
 Then Prince Albert proceeded to explain the stops to me, 
 and she said that she would meanwhile put things straight. 
 I begged that the prince would first play me something, 
 that I might, boast about it in Germany, and he played 
 a chorale, by heart, with the pedals, so charmingly and 
 clearly and correctly that it would have done credit to 
 any professional ; and the queen, having finished her 
 work, came and sat by him and listened, and looked 
 pleased. Then it was my turn, and I began my chorus 
 from "St. Paul," "How lovely are the messengers." 
 Before I got to the end of the first verse they had both 
 joined in the chorus, and all the time Prince Albert man- 
 aged the stops so cleverly for me, . . . and all by heart, 
 that I was really quite enchanted. Then the young 
 Prince of Gotha came in, and there was more chatting, 
 
492 QUEEN VICTORIA. 
 
 and the queen asked if I had written any new songs, and 
 said she was very fond of singing my published ones. 
 "You should sing one to him," said Prince Albert, and 
 after a little begging, she said she would try the " Friih- 
 Ungslied " in B flat, " if it is still here," she added, " for all 
 my music is packed for Claremont." Prince Albert went 
 to look for it, but came back, saying it was already packed. 
 "But one might, perhaps, unpack it," said I. " We must 
 
 send for Lady ," she said (I did not catch the name) . 
 
 So the bell was rung, and the servants were sent after it ; 
 but without success, and at last the queen went herself, 
 and whilst she was gone, Prince Albert said to me, " She 
 begs you will accept this present as a remembrance," and 
 gave me a case with a beautiful ring, on which is en- 
 graved "V. R., 1842." Then the queen came back, and 
 said, "Lady is gone, and has taken all my things 
 with her. It is really most anno}'ing." ' 
 
 "However, Mendelssohn begged that he might not be 
 the sufferer, and after some consultation, Prince Albert 
 said, ' She will sing you something of Gluck's.' Then 
 they proceeded to the queen's sitting-room, where there 
 stood by the piano a mighty rocking-horse and two 
 great bird-cages. The walls were decorated with pic- 
 tures ; beautifully bound books lay on the tables, and 
 music on the piano. Mendelssohn found among the 
 music a set of songs of his own, and, first sending away 
 the parrot, i for he will scream louder than I can sing/ 
 the queen sang ' Schoner und Schoner schmucJct sie ' quite 
 charmingly, in strict time and tune, but with one slight 
 error. Mendelssohn confessed that the song was not his, 
 but his sister Fanny's, and she then, with some doubt, 
 undertook to try to sing his ' Pilger Spruch, Lass dich 
 nur,' which she did quite faultlessly, and with charming 
 eeling and expression. 
 
QUEEN VICTORIA. 423 
 
 "Mendelssohn says: 'I thought to myself, one must 
 not pay too many compliments on such an occasion, so I 
 merely thanked her a great many times ; on which she 
 said, " Oh ! if only I had not been so frightened ; generally 
 I have such a long breath." Then I praised her heartily 
 and with the best conscience in the world, for just that 
 part, with the long C at the close, she had done so well, 
 and taking the three notes next to it all in the same 
 breath, as one seldom hears it done, and therefore it 
 amused me doubly that she herself should have begun 
 about it.' Afterwards the prince sang ^Es ist ein Schnit- 
 ter,' and Mendelssohn improvised till it was time for her 
 Majesty to start for Claremont." 
 
 Madame de Bunsen, the English wife of the Prussian 
 ambassador, thus described Queen Victoria : 
 
 " She is the only piece of female royalty I ever saw 
 who was also a creature such as God Almighty has cre- 
 ated. Her smile is a real smile, her grace is natural ; 
 although it has received a high polish from cultivation, 
 there is nothing artificial about her." 
 
 Her present appearance is thus given : " Queen Vic- 
 toria possesses a short, stout figure ; a face with the long 
 upper lip, and cold, blue eyes of the Georges ; straight 
 bandeaus of gray hair ; a rather flushed complexion ; a 
 most graceful walk ; and a sort of sweet, venerable, nat- 
 ural dignity and power about her." 
 
 On the first of January, 1876, Queen Victoria was pro- 
 claimed Empress of India. 
 
 The first wedding among her children was the marriage 
 of her eldest daughter, the Princess Victoria, to Frederick 
 William, now the Crown Prince of Germany. The queen 
 herself thus writes in her diary: " Went to look at the 
 rooms prepared for Vicky's honeymoon. Very pretty ! 
 
494 QUEEN VICTORIA. 
 
 It quite agitated me to look at them." And again, regard- 
 ing the ceremony, she writes: "My last fear of being 
 overcome vanished on seeing Vicky's quiet, calm, and 
 composed manner. It was beautiful to see her kneeling 
 with Fritz, their hands joined, and the train borne b} 7 the 
 eight young ladies, who looked like a cloud of maidens 
 hovering round her." 
 
 So royal mothers are akin to other mothers when they 
 witness the wedding ceremonies of their children. The 
 Princess Alice was the next to marry ; but as her mar- 
 riage occurred soon after her father's death, the wedding 
 was very quiet. This lovely princess was the favorite of 
 the family. She seemed to inherit a large portion of her 
 lamented father's tastes and traits ; and as the wife of 
 Prince Louis of Hesse, won all hearts. Her sad death, 
 from malignant diphtheria, which dread disease had just 
 snatched away a darling little daughter, is remembered by 
 all. Since her death, the queen has lost another child, 
 her youngest son, Leopold, Duke of Albany. 
 
 The heir to the throne, the Prince of Wales, married 
 the beautiful and charming Princess Alexandra of Den- 
 mark. Many have seen her fascinating face, and English 
 people love to greet her and receive her gracious smiles. 
 Of the sweet Princess of Wales, all speak in lavish terms 
 of praise. The other children of Queen Victoria are : the 
 Princess Helena, married to Prince Christian of Schleswig- 
 Holstein ; Princess Louise, now Marquise of Lome ; 
 Princess Beatrice, lately married to Prince Henry of Bat- 
 tenberg ; Prince Alfred, Duke of Edinburgh, married to 
 the daughter of the Czar Alexander II. of Russia, she 
 being sister to the present czar ; and Prince Arthur, Duke 
 of Connaught, who married the Princess Marguerite of 
 Prussia, daughter of Prince Frederick Charles of Prussia, 
 called the Red Prince. 
 
ALEXANDRA, QUEN 
 
QUEEN VICTORIA. 495 
 
 The 21st of June, 1887, was the fiftieth anniversary of 
 Queen Victoria's ascension to the throne of England. 
 The occasion was celebrated by an imposing Jubilee. 
 But this gorgeous celebration was surpassed ten years 
 later by her Diamond Jubilee, when the whole nation 
 seemed given up to rejoicing and pageantry. 
 
 Ojxly one event was more- impressive than that great 
 occasion ; it was the funeral of the good Queen, on Feb- 
 ruary 3, 1901. She passed away on January 22, after a 
 reign of sixty-three years, the longest of any English 
 sovereign. At her own request, the funeral was a mili- 
 tary one. The royal catafalque was placed on board the 
 Alberta, which passed between long lines of warships 
 whose "flags were half-masted, and whose crews lined the 
 decks with their arms at " attention." Upon land, the 
 coffin was placed on a khaki-colored gun carriage, and 
 was followed through the streets of London by a solemn 
 procession headed by the Queen's son, the new monarch, 
 Edward VII, and her grandson, Emperor William of 
 Germany. Minute guns and the tolling of bells an- 
 nounced the progress of the funeral train. 
 
 Within the grounds of Frogmore House, adjoining 
 Windsor Castle, the Queen had erected a mausoleum for 
 the Prince Consort; and there by his side she was laid 
 to rest. The epitaph written by the Queen herself 
 
 reads : 
 
 "Victoria Albert. 
 Here at last I shall 
 Rest with thee : 
 With thee in Christ 
 Shall rise again." 
 
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 sex." Hartford Daily Times. 
 
 " Wise mothers will give this volume to their daughters. Conscientious teachers will 
 read it to their scholars." Interior. 
 
 FAMOUS VOYAGERS AND EXPLORERS 
 
 By SARAH K. BOLTON. With portraits of Raleigh, Sir John 
 Franklin, Magellan, Dr. Kane, Greely, Livingstone, and others. 
 I2ino. $1.50 
 
 " Mrs. Bolton studies with patience and relates with enthusiasm the adventures of this 
 long line of heroes. Her style is simple and unaffected, and her accuracy is unques- 
 tioned." Christian A dvocate. 
 
 FAMOUS LEADERS AMONG MEN. 
 
 By SARAH K. BOLTON. With portraits of Napoleon, Wendell 
 Phillips, Thomas Arnold, Charles Kingsley, Gen. Sherman, and 
 others. I2mo. $1.50 
 
 " A series of biographies which will be widely read and will do a great deal of erood." 
 Boston Herald. 
 
 " Entertaining and inspiring." Public Opinion. 
 
 " Her power of condensation borders on the marvelous." Rochester Herald. 
 
 FAMOUS LEADERS AMONG WOMEN. 
 
 By SARAH K. BOLTON. With portraits of Catherine II. of Russia, 
 Madam Le Brun, Catharine Booth, etc. I2mo, cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " It is by all odds the most charming of Mrs. Bolton's famous books." Northern 
 Church A dvocate. 
 
 " Her selection embraces great variety, chronicling wonderful events." Chicago Press. 
 "Mrs. Bolton tells the story in a way that is both interesting and instructive." 
 Rochester Herald. 
 
 (3) 
 
MBS, SARAH K, BOLTON'S BOOKS, 
 
 FAMOUS GIVERS AND THEIR GIFTS. 
 
 By SARAH K. BOLTON. With portraits of Andrew Carnegie, Stephen 
 Girard, John D. Rockefeller, and others. I2mo. $1.50. 
 
 " No better book can be placed in the family library of parents who have growing-up 
 sons and daughters." Detroit Tribune. 
 
 " A very valuable book." Burlington Hawkey e. 
 
 "A literary treat. . . . Constructed throughout in that charming style which has 
 made Mrs. Bolton's writings so popular with the intelligent reader. One finds interest 
 not only in every page, but in every line." Galveston News, 
 
 " Of great educational help." Boston Advertiser. 
 
 FROM HEART AND NATURE. 
 
 Poems by SARAH K. and CHARLES K. BOLTON. i6mo. Gilt top, $1.00. 
 
 THE INEVITABLE, AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 By SARAH K. BOLTON. i6mo. With portrait. Gilt top, $1.00. 
 
 " The opening poem, from which the book is named, is an unusually inspiring appeal 
 for courage, faith, and fidelity, and we happen to know that it has already exerted a 
 powerful influence." Congregationalist. 
 
 " Show the same characteristics that mark her other work, simplicity of style, earnest- 
 ness of purpose, and purity of sentiment." Cleveland Plain Dealer, 
 
 " Her poetry is simple, earnest, and effective." Independent. 
 
 " A generous appreciation will no doubt be given this new venture of the popular 
 writer." Interior. 
 
 RAPHAEL. 
 
 By SARAH K. BOLTON. I2mo. Illustrated. 50 cents net. 
 
 " The career of the master painter is presented in a way which fixes the attention . . . 
 In Mrs. Bolton's hands biography is no longer a matter of names and dates, but an inner 
 glimpse of the man himself. " The School Journal. 
 
 EMERSON. 
 
 By SARAH K. BOLTON. I2mo. Illustrated. 50 cents net. 
 " A clear-cut picture of Emerson the man. The attractiveness of this little book lies 
 in the easy conversational naturalness with which the reader is led from page to page." 
 
 The Progressive Teacher. 
 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO., New York 
 
 (4) 
 
THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE 
 STAMPED BELOW 
 
 AN INITIAL FINE OF 25 CENTS 
 
 WILL BE ASSESSED FOR FAILURE TO RETURN 
 THIS BOOK ON THE DATE DUE. THE PENALTY 
 WILL INCREASE TO SO CENTS ON THE FOURT 
 DAY AND TO $1.OO ON THE SEVENTH DAY 
 OVERDUE. 
 
 APR 21 1945 
 
 
 SNov'SSWW 
 
 CTD LD 
 
 fiJanSQfCZ 
 
 4 2005 
 
 LD 21-100m-12,'43 (8796s) 
 
M 7490 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY