THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY DZO -04 SiQ V.5 The person charging this material is re- sponsible for its return to the library from which it was withdrawn on or before the Latest Date stamped below. Theft, mutilation, and underlining of books are reasons for disciplinary action and may result in dismissal from the University. UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN MAY -6 1973 L161 — 0-1096 N Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2017 with funding from University of liiinois Urbana-Champaign Alternates https://archive.org/details/livesofqueensofe05stri_0 LIVES OF THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. VOL. V. LIVES OF THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. FBOM TEE NOBMAN CONQUEST. BY AGNES STEICKLAND. “ The treasures of antiquity laid In old historic rolls, I opened.” A NEW EDITION, CAREFULLY REVISED AN LIBRARY IN SIX VOLUMES. VOL. V. LONDON: BELL & DALDY, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN. 1869. Stg / LONDON : PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS. CONTENTS. MARY BEATRICE OF MODENA, QUEEN-CONSORT OF JAMES THE SECOND, KING OF GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND. PACK CHAPTER IV. — Mary Beatrice queen of England — Her grief for the death of Charles II. — Popularity of king James — Reforms at court — Negotiations for her brother’s marriage— III health and unhappiness of the queen — Her dislike to rouge — Catharine Sedley — Queen’s jealousy — Her majesty’s splendid regalia — Anecdotes of the corona- tion — King and queen go in state to mass — Monmouth’s rebellion — False aspersion on the queen— Sedley created countess of Dorchester — Anger of the queen— She takes to her chamber— Passionate scene with the king — Lady Dorchester banished from court — Embassy to Rome— Queen visits the camp at Hounslow — Her displeasure against lord Rochester— Her dislike of father Petre — Death of the duchess of Modena •—Grief of the queen — She goes to Bath with the king — His attentions to her— His pilgrimage to St. Winifred’s well — Warned of the treachery of the prince of Orange — Queen’s pregnancy — Public thanksgivings — Injurious reports— Declaration of liberty of conscience — The king and William Pen — Father Petre and the queen — Princess Anne’s hatred to the queen — Her secret machinations against her— Outward civility— Queen’s sudden illness 1 CHAPTER V.— Preparations for the confinement of the queen — Birth of a prince — Ill- ness of the child —Reports of his death — Queen’s rapid recovery — Gives audience to Zulestein in her chamber— Medal of the queen— Her letter to the pope— Attempts to bring the prince up by hand — His dangerous illness — Distress of the queen — Colonel Sands and lady Strickland— Malicious reports raised by Sands — The infant prince’s nurse — Her simplicity — Prince recovers — His likeness to his parents— Queen’s letter to the princess of Orange — Hostile preparations of William — Queen’s birthday— Dark aspect of the times — Christening of the prince — Pope godfather— Queen’s offering to the shrine of Loretto — Prince of Orange lands — King leaves London with the prince of Wales — Queen left alone at Whitehall— Perilous state of the king — Treachery and desertion of his officers- Princess Anne absconds — King returns to London — His apprehensions for his son — Preparations for the queen’s departure — Her sorrowful parting from the king— Escapes from Whitehall with the prince— Crosses the Thames on a stormy night— Embarks at Gravesend— Stormy voyage— Lands at Calais— Sym- pathy of the governor — Her letter to Louis XIV. — Her anxiety touching the fate of her husband — Alarming rumours on that subject . • 43 VI Contents. CHAPTER YL— Honours paid to Mary Beatrice at Calais — She proceeds to Boulogne — Hears of the king’s arrest — Wishes to return to England — Despondency and disasters of king James — He escapes to France — The queen’s journey towards St. Germains — Hears of the king’s escape — Her joy — Met by Louis XIY. at Chatou — His courteous w'elcome — Magnificent reception at St. Germains — Arrival of king James — Their meeting— Courtesies of Louis XIY. — First court of Mary Beatrice at St. Germains — She visits the dauphiness— Her dress — Attentions of Louis XIY. — His admiration of her manners — Queen’s popularity in the court of France — Yisits to Yersailles and Trianon — King James’s Irish expedition — Melancholy parting with the queen — She retires to Poissy — Her visits to the convent of Chaillot — Spiritual friendships with the nuns — Her letters to the abbess — Reported passion of Louis XIY. for Mary Beatrice — She uses her influence for her husband — Sends money to assist Dundee — Her talent for business — Loss of the battle of the Boyne — King James returns to St. Germains — Jacobite correspondence — Queen again enceinte — Her situation announced — T’he English nobles and peeresses invited to her accouchement — Favourable prospects of king James — Preparations for his landing in England — He leaves St. Germains for La Hogue — De>truction of the French fleet — Despair and strange conduct of king James — Melancholy state of the queen — James returns to St. Germains — Birth of their youngest child the princess Louisa — Christening of the infant princess. . .90 CHARTER Yll. — Maternal happiness of Mary Beatrice — Yisits Chaillot — Her conversa- tions — Her historical reminiscences — Her visit of condolence at Yersailles — Traits of character — Portraits — Her faithful followers at St. Germains — Her sympathy in their distress — Anecdotes of her royal consort — Of her children — Her letter from Fontaine- bleau — Attention to her by Louis XIY. — Her dangerous illness— Attachment of Mrs. Pen to her — Death of the duke of Modena — Disputes about inheritance — De- vastation of her country— Slights from madame de JMaintenon — Death of ]\Iary IL — Exiled queen’s parting with her husband — Her grief for executions in Eng- land — Sponsor to princess of Orleans — Complains of madame de Maintenun — Queen sells her jewels, relieves Jacobites — Disputes concerning her dower — Her incautious confidences — She presides at the nuptials of the duke of Burgundy — Refuses to part with her son to William HI. — Her dower granted by England- Appropriated by William III. to his own use — Dangerous illness of James II. — Queen nurses him— Her letters 139 CHAPTER YIII. — 111 health of queen Mary Beatrice — Alarming symptoms — Princess Anne announces death of the duke of Gloucester — Letter of Mary Beatrice thereon — Her importunity for Chaillot — Rudeness of madame Maintenon to her — Queen’s con- versation with Louis XIY. — Yisits Fontainebleau — Her escape from fire — Alarming illness of James II. — Distress of the queen — Her letter from his bedside — Their pecuniary difficulties— Queen accompanies the king to baths of Bourbon — Her devoted attention — Anxiety to return to her children — Decline of James II.— All business transacted by the queen — Fatal anthem— James II. struck with apoplexy — Her de- I voted attendance on his death bed — His eulogium on her virtues— Yiolence of her grief— Watches unseen near him — Recognition of her son by Louis XIY. as heir to ' James II. — Queen’s touching parting with James 1 1.— His death — Q ueen’s Widow- 1 HOOD— Her son proclaimed James HI. at St. Germains — Queen's homage to him — I She goes to Chaillot— Recepti-m there— Obsequies of James II. — Anecdotes of the queen s sojourn at Chaillot — She returns to her children at St. Germains — Louis XIY.’s visit of condolence — James II.’s will — Appoints Mary Beatrice regent for their son — Her letter to princess Anne — Conferences with lord Belhaven - Refuses to send her son to Scotland — Her i^binet at St. Germains — In debt to the convent at Chaillot — Her letter thereon 17 7 CHAPTER IX. Queen Mary Beatrice — Deceptive hopes for her son — Fuller’s libels on her republished — Censured by parliament — Bill of attainder against her son — Attempts of the lords to attaint Mary Beatrice — Resisted by the commons — Her pathetic letters— Abjuration of the young prince — IJteathof king William — Accession Contents, PAGE of queen Anne — Dangerous illness of Mary Beatrice — Her letters — Her poverty — Alarming progress of organic malady — Her patience — Her timorous policy — Maternal weakness— Her devotion to king James’s memory — Pretended miracles— Queen cajoled by lord Lovat— Sells her jewels to equip troops — Distrusts lord Middleton — Her sufferings — Consults a cancer doctress — Her letter — She prints a life of king James — Sickness of her son — Deaths in her household — Duke of Berwick’s opinion of the queen — Her kindness to him — Kespect paid to her by Louis XIV. — Sickness of her son — His recovery — Early promise of the princess — Grand ball at Marli — Re.'pect paid to the royal exiles — Return of the queen’s malady — Dangerous symptoms — Her letters — Secret correspondence with Marlborough and Godolphin — The prince attains his majority — Life at St Gennains — Merry pilgrims— Royal hay-makers — Carnival at St. Germains 216 CHAPTER X;— Change of cheer at St. Germains — The prince leaves to embark for Scot- land — He is attacked with measles — Delay fatal to his cause — Queen falls sick from anxiety — Her dream — 111 success of the prince’s expedition — Queen’s letter on his return — Her son, first called the Pretender, assumes the title of chevalier de St. George — Serves in the French army as a volunteer — Unpunctual payment of the queen’s French pension — Gallant conduct of her son — Sickness of her vice-chamber- lain, Robert Strickland — Marlborough’s secret correspondence with the queen — She goes to Chaillot with her daughter — Her habits of self-denial — Jacobite poachers at St. Germains — Queen’s vexation — Her visit of condolence to Louis XIV. — Etiquette of her receptions — Her son leaves St. Germains to travel — She goes to Chaillot with the princess — Reminiscences of her past life — Amiable traits of character — Visit of the dau- phiness — Queen and princess Louisa go to Versailles — Tender affection between them — They visit the hearse of king James, incognito — Queen informed of overtures for peace — Annoyed at a present made to her daughter — Instance of her pride— Distress about her debts — Her son joins her at Chaillot — Marlborough’s offers of service — Melancholy forebodings of the queen — Her son and daughter take the smallpox — Touching scene between her and princess Louisa — Death of the princess — Grief and dangerous illness of the queen— Recovery of her son — He is warned to leave France — Desolation of the queen — She visits Louis XIV. at Marli — I'heir mutual grief— Her melancholy visit to Chaillot — Returns to St. Germains — Sends lady Strick- land with a present to the convent — Her pathetic letter on her daughter’s death . 253 CHAPTER XI. — Distress of Mary Beatrice at parting from her son — Her arrival at Chaillot — Renewed grief for her daughter— She takes to her bed— Malicious rumours connected with her daughter’s death — Mary Beatrice attacked with gout— Visits of her son — He quits France — Queen’s dejection — Pines for her daughter — Returns to St. Germains— Her melancholy court — Maternal fondness for her son— Peace of Utrecht — Her observations on the treaty — Her resignation — Impertinence of French princesses— Her dignified reproof— Queen’s poverty — Instances of splf-denial— The Jacobite quaker — His flattering predictions — Visit from the marquis de Torcy — Dejection caused by his communication— Her want of secrecy — English news by the duke of Berwick — Artist brings her son’s portrait — Her incognito walks with her ladies— Her pecuniary straits — Daily vexatious cares — Her visit to the Petit Luxem- bourg— Interest excited by her appearance— Famine at St. Germains— Her charities —Her visit to Marli— She raises money to relieve the starving emigrants — Continued distress at St. Germains — The queen, the cardinal, and the quaker — Mary Beatrice receives a portion of her jointure due from England — Her dangerous illness — Recovery — Respect paid her by the court of Spain — Popular movements in London for her son — Mary Beatrice meets him at Plombieres ........ 30C CHAPTER XII. — Mary Beatrice returns to St. Germains — Attends the deathbed of Louis XIV. — Her constancy to madame de Maintenon — Lord Bolingbroke’s ill-will to Mary Beatrice — The rebellion of 17 15 — Mary Beatrice prayed for as queen-mother — Her uncertainty as to the fate of her son — His dangerous journey from Lorraine — Secret visit to Paris — Queen meets him at Chaillot — His frightful peril at Nonancourt —Sails for Scotland — Queen’s su.spense — Conflicting rumours of successes and defeats Contents, viii — Flattering news from Scotland — Reports of her son’s coronation — Melancholy reverse — Desperate position of Jacobite cause — Unfeeling conduct of Lord Boling- broke to the queen — Her pecuniary distress — The chevalier visits his mother at St. Srermains — Compelled to leave her — His inconsiderate conduct>— Maternal anxiety of the queen — Her son’s rupture with Bolingbroke — Queen offers to mediate — Boling- broke’s rude reply — Depression of the queen and her ladies — Fate of Jacobite prisoners — Distress of Mary Beatrice — Respect felt for her in France — Her son goes to Avignon — Lingering affection in England for the Stuart cause — Oak-apple day and white-rose day — A new courtier presented to queen Mary Beatrice — Matrimonial projects for her son — Her correspondence with the old Jacobites — Plots for her son’s restoration — Her seals — Armorial bearings — Jacobite correspondence — Her last illness — Recom- mends her son to the regent Orleans — Her care lor her ladies — Her death — General lamentations at St. Germains — F-unereal honours — Refuge granted to her ladies — Her apartment at St. Germains — Traditions of the place — Her portrait in old age . . 355 MARY II. QUEEN-REGNANT OF GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND. PAGE CHAPTER I. — Love-match of queen Mary’s parents— Its unpopularity — Birth of lady Mary of York (queen Mary II.)— Nursery at Twickenham-palace— Fondness of her father, the duke of York — Birth of lady Anne of York (queen Anne)— Maternal indulgence — 111 health of the lady Anne — Is sent to France — Visits queen Henrietta Maria — French court-mourning— Education of the princesses at Richmond — Their mother dies a Roman catholic — i heir father professes the same faith — Their step- mother, Mary Beatrice of Modena — The princesses Mary and Anne educated at Richmond-palace — Preceptor, tutors, and chaplain — Introduction of the princesses to court — Confirmation of Mary in the Church of England — Marriage projects for Mary — Arrival in England of the prince of Orange (William III.) — As her suitor — Mar- riage determined — Her agony of mind — Incidents of the marriage — Disinherited by the birth of a brother— Illness of lady Anne with the smallpox — Fears of infection — Interview between the princess of Orange and Dr. Lake — Her continual grief — liady Anne’s sick chamber — Danger — Departure of the princess and prince of Orange — They land at Sheerness — Adventures at Canterbury — Their first acquaintance with Dr. Tillotson — Voyage to Holland — The prince admires Elizabeth ViRiers — Recep- tion in H(dland — Pageants and rejoicings 393 CHAPTER II. — Convalescence of lady Anne— Her father breaks to her the departure of her sister — Takes possession of her sister’s apartments in St. James’s — Death of her brother — News of the princess of Orange — Relapses into Sunday card-playing— Attends dissenting preachings — First communion of lady Anne — Her strange conduct — Anne’s favourite lady, Mrs. Cornwallis, banished — Anne’s love for Mrs. Churchill — Princess of Orange, her court at the Hague — Her chapel and Dr. Hooper — Prince of Orange persecutes her religion — Objects to her books — His unfaithfulness to her — Visit of her step-mother and lady Anne — Illness of the princess — Her father and his consort visit her — Her tender parting with them —Her conjugal troubles — Princess and the French ambassador— Princess causes Ken to marry Mary Worth to Zules- tein — Rage of the prince — Insults Dr. Ken — Princess entreats him to stay — Seclusion of the princess — Residence of the lady Anne at her uncle’s court — Her prospects of the succession — Suitors — Prince George of Hanover (George I.) — His visit to her — His retreat — Mortifying reports — Her anger — Visits her father in Scotland — Her love Contents, IX PAGr for lord Mulgrave — Marriage of Anne with prince George of Denmark — Appoints Mrs. Churchill to her household— Lonely life of the princess of Orange — Palace re- straint— Mourning on the anniversary of Charles I.’s death— Insults of her husband — Her grief — Final subjugation — Enlargement from restraint — Attentions to Mon- mouth — Her gaiety — Skates and dances with Monmouth — Death of her uncle (Charles 11.) — Accession of her father (James II,) — His letters to her and her hus- band — Dr. Covell’s report of the princess’s ill-treatment — Deep grief of the princess — Departure of the princess’s favourite maid, Anne Trelawny — Sympathy of the princess for the suffering French Protestants — Conjugal alarms of the princess — Solicits body-guards for the prince — Princess’s sharp answer to W. Pen — Prince of Orange requests a pension for her — James II. refuses 423 CHAPTER, III.— Princess Anne greatly indulged by her father— Death of her daughter — Present at her father’s coronation (James II.) — Attends the opening of parliament — Birth of Anne’s second daughter, Mary — Anne’s state at chapel-royal — Her letter to the bishop of Ely — Her revenue and married life — Character of her husband — Her third daughter born (Sophia) — Illness of her husband — Death of both their children — Excessive grief of the princess— Her pecuniary embarrassments — Interview with her father — Her aunt quits her household — Lady Churchill her first lady — Letters between the princess of Orange and English ladies — ^Letters of James II. to the princess of Orange — He informs her of his queen’s situation — Birth of the prince of Wales (called the Pretender) - Anne’s absence at Bath — Her insinuations against ' the child and his mother — Anne’s joy at the people’s suspicions, at her brother’s ill- ness — Letters from the queen (Mary Beatrice) to the princess of Orange — Princess I Anne at Windsor — Introduced to the pope’s legate — Princess of Orange writes to , archbishop Bancroft — Princess Anne’s dialogues with her uncle Clarendon — Princess 1 of Orange deceives her father— His letters on her husband’s invasion — Interview of Anne and Clarendon — Mocks her father with her women — Reproofs of her uncle . 461 ) CHAPTER IV. — Proceedings of the princess of Orange at the Hague — Her conversation ( with Burnet — Her reflections on the memory of Mary queen of Scots — Letter of her ( step-mother — Embarkation of her husband to invade England — Forbids prayers for ^ her father — Landing of the prince of Orange — Last interview of the princess Anne and her father (James II.) — Conversation with her uncle Cllarendon — Her father leaves London for the army — Her husband and lord Churchill forsake him — Her connivance — Her escape from Whitehall — Joins her father’s enemies — Arrival at Nottingham — Joins an association against her father — Disgusts lord Chesterfield — Conduct of her household at the Cockpit — Her triumphant entry into Oxford — Her forces headed by bishop Compton — Stays from Lopdon till her father leaves it — Goes to the play in orange ribands — Danger of her father that night — Stern reproofs of her uncle Clarendon — Controversy of the succession — Rights of the daughters of James II. — Uneasiness of the princess Anne — Convention declares Mary sole sove- reign-regnant — Rage of her husband — She yields precedence to William — Is asso- ciated with him in regality— Princess Anne yields her place to him — Llary leaves Holland ... . ... 493 VOL. V, 0 o>Koo— MAEY BEATEICE OF MODENA, QUEEN-CONSORT OF JAMES II., KING OF GREAT BRITAIN. CHAPTER IV. Mary Beatrice was an attendant on the deathbed of her royal brother- in-law, Charles IL, and the only person in that room to whom queen Catharine ventured to speak a word in confidence on his spiritual affairs.^ No one lamented more sincerely for the fatal termination of the illness of that monarch, although it was an event that elevated her consort and herself to a throne. “ The queen that now is,” writes an eye-witness of the last moments of Charles II., “ was a most passion- ate mourner, and so tender-hearted as to think a crown dearly bought with the loss of such a brother.” ^ Mary Beatrice herself, when alluding to her feelings on this occasion long years afterwards, said, “ I confess that I took no pleasure in the envied name of a queen. I was so greatly afflicted for the death of king Charles, that I dared not give free vent tc my grief, lest I should he suspected of hypocrisy or grimace. I had loved him very dearly, and with reason, for he was very amiable, and had shown me much kindness.” ® The same moment that certified the fact that Charles II. had ceased tc breathe, saw every knee bent in homage to the calumniated duke of York, while every voice united in crying, “ God save king James IT.” The crown had taken away all defects, and he was instantaneously beset on every side with compliments and congratulations. Exhausted 1 See the biography of Catharine of Bra- 3 MS. Memorials of Mary Beatrice, in the giinza, vol, iv. p. 486. archives of the kingdom of France; ChaiUot ' 2 letter to the rev. Francis Roper, in Sir collection. [enry Kllis’s Letters, first 8erie8,vol. iii. p. 337. VOL. V. B 2 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [i685. with grief and watching, beholding in the lifeless form before him a solemn lesson on the frailty of earthly grandeur, and sickening, per- haps, at the shameless adulation of the time-serving courtiers, the new sovereign withdrew to his closet, to commune with his own heart in silence. After a brief pause, James met his council, and was recognised as the lawful monarch of the realm without a dissentient voice. He expressed his passionate sorrow for his brother’s death, and signified his intention of governing by the established laws, and supporting the church of England. “ I have often,” said he, in conclusion, “ ventured my life in defence of this nation, and will go as far as any man in preserv- ing its just privileges.” ^ This declaration was received with unani- mous applause. He was immediately proclaimed at the gates of Whitehall, and afterwards in the city, amidst the acclamations of the populace.^ Evelyn, who assisted at this ceremony, returned with the state officers and the heralds to Whitehall, and was introduced into the presence of the new king and queen, tells us, that “ the king, tiled out as he was with grief and fatigue, had been compelled, meantime, to take a little repose on his bed, but was now risen, and in his undress.” The queen was still in bed ; but the deputation being introduced into her apartment — queens had neither rest nor privacy allowed them in those days of royal slavery — “ she put forth her hand, seeming to be much afflicted, as I believe she was,” pursues Evelyn, “having deported hei- self so decently upon all occasions since she came into England, which made her universally beloved.”^ The following Sunday their majesties went publicly to mass in the queen’s chapel in St. James’s-palace, leaving the chapel-royal at Whitehall for the use of the princess Anne of Denmark and the Protestant portion of their household. That Sunday almost every pulpit in the metropolis echoed with the praises ( f the new sovereign, and with prayers that he and his consort might enjoy a long and happy reign. The first few days after their accession to the throne, their majesties were chiefly occupied in receiving the compliments and condolences of the ambassadors of all the sovereigns ill Europe. Mary Beatrice received and entertained her court, seate'd under a mourning canopy of state, with a black foot-cloth. She per - 1 Journal of James II. Echard. Lingard, &c. 2 All the former animosities seemed to be forgotten amidst the loud acclamations of his people on his accession to the throne. — Well- wood’s Memoirs, p. 154. “I was present,” says the celebrated nonconformist minister, Edmund Calamy, “ upon the spot at the pro- claiming king James at the upper end of Wood-street in Cheapside, which is one of those places where proclamation is usually made upon such occasions, and my head ached at the acclamations made on that occa- sion, which, as far as 1 could observe, were very general. And it is to me good evidence that all the histories that fall into our hands are to be read with caution, to observe that bishop Burnet positively affiinas that fe kv tears were shed for the former [Charles II.y, nor were there any shouts of joy for the pre- sent king [James II.] ; whereas I, who w as at that time actually present, can bear w it- ness to the contrary. The bishop, indet d who was then abroad might easily be mijs- informed ; but methinks he shou.d not hayo been so positive in a matter of that natuAe when he w’as at a distance.” — An HistoricAl Account of My own Life, with some Ky- flections on the Times 1 have lived in; % Edmund Calamy, n.n. ; vol. i. pp. 116. 117. 3 Evelyn’s Diary, vol. ii. 3 i685.] Queen of Great Britain, formed her part with the grace aud dignity that were natural to her, but she took no pleasure in her new honours ; she was a childless mother, and though she was only seven-and-lrwenty, her enemies began 10 insinuate the improbability of her bringing heirs to the throne. James had four illegitimate children by Arabella Churchill, and two by his present mistress, Catharine Sedley. His majesty, however, being bent on effecting a moral reform in his court, persuaded Mrs. Sedley to absent herself, to the great satisfaction of those who had feared that she would act the same part, in the reign of James, as the duchess of Cleve- land had done in that of Charles II. King James was a person of better inclinations than his brother. He expressed publicly his abhorrence of drinking and swearing. “ On Sunday last,” writes a contemporary, “ the king, going to mass, told his attendants he had been informed that since his declaring against the disorder of the household, some had the impudence to appear drunk in the queen’s presence. ’Tis thought he reflected on the duke of A. ; but he advised them at their peril to observe his order, which he would see obeyed.”^ James also discouraged the practice of duelling, which was one of the prevailing sins of the age, and had caused several fright- ful tragedies in his brother’s court : among other things, he said, “ I know a man who has fought nine duels, and yet is a very coward, having manifestly shown himself so during an engagement at sea.”^ The king attended closely to business, and a great change for the better appeared in the manners of the courtiers : profane and licentious speeches were no longer tolerated. The first use Mary Beatrice made of her new power and dignity as queen of England, was an attempt to compel her brother the duke ot Modena, who had perversely remained a bachelor till he was five-and- twenty, to enter the holy pale of wedlock with a consort of her pro- viding. The young lady whom she was desirous of making duchess of Modena was mademoiselle de Bouillon, one of the greatest heiresses in France, nearly related to themselves also, for her mother was one of the fair Mancini sisters. Perhaps the duke of Modena disliked the connection, or preferred choosing a wife for himself, for he coldly de- clined the alliance. Mary Beatrice, who appears to have taken an infinity of pains in gaining the consent of the lady and of the king of France, under the idea that she was rendering her brother a great service, attributed his refusal to the evil counsels of liis prime-minister and favourite, prince Cesar, a kinsman of their family. “In her letter of the 26 th of February, there are marks of great anger on the ipart of the queen of England against prince Cesar,” observes our authority “and she seems disposed to carry matters with a high •/ 1 T. fitters of the Herbert family. 2 ibid. 2 Inedited MS. in the Ai’chives des Affaires Etrangeres de France. 4 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1635 hand, as she says he is the cause of preventing the marriage she has proposed, for which marriage she testifies the most ardent wish. The king, her husband, has told the ahbe Eizzini, that of all the matches that had been proposed for the duke, that with mademoiselle de Bouillon was the most advantageous for him, and that he thought he ought not to hesitate any longer about accepting it, since the king of France had expressed a wish for it, and it was the only means by which he could reinstate himself in the good graces of that prince ; and that, for the future, he must not reckon on the good offices either of the queen or himself, unless he resolved to follow their advice.” Mary Beatrice, suspecting that prince Cesar had suppressed her former letters to the duke, her brother, wrote a passionate letter to the duke, com- plaining of his conduct, and protested that, “ if he did not alter his determi- nation, and consent to this advantageous match which she had proposed for him, she should be compelled to add her resentment to that of the king of France.” In a letter to Louis XIV. she positively declared “ that she never would desist from this design till she had brought it to pass, the king of England and she having set their hearts upon it ; and that it could not fail of being accomplished, provided Louis continued in the same mind. Nevertheless,” added she, “I see plainly that prince Cesar will not allow the duke of Modena to marry, that he may retain his influence over him, and continue to govern him as he has hitherto done.” She begged that Louis would communicate with her privately on this matter, as she did not wish to discuss it with his ambassador Barillon. The duke of Modena wrote to his sister, “ that he had some thoughts of coming to England, to explain to her in per- son the reasons that prevented him from accepting her proposition.” When she had read this letter, she exclaimed with great vehemence, “ Unless he has vowed himself a monk, I see no good reason why he should not marry ; and if he does marry, why should he not accept the proposition that I have made to him?” She wrote again to Louis, telling him, “ that she vras inclined to ask the king her husband, to write a letter to the duke of Modena, representing to him how wrong he was to demur giving his hand where she had advised as the most advan- tageous marriage he could make, since it would wholly reinstate him in the good graces of the Idng of France, with whom he was at variance.” ^ The dangerous J)osition of the duke of Modena’s affairs, in consequencti) of his rash quarrel with Louis XIV., and the pains Mary Beatrice haci taken to effect a reconciliation by means of the proposed marriage between him and mademoiselle de Bouillon, cannot excuse the impel 1 Documents in the Archives des ALfFaires selection, Margaretta Famese, daughter 0\f Ktrangeres, by favour of M. Guizot. The Ranucci II., duke of Paima. — L’Art dffl duke of Modena resisted the dictation of his Verifier les Dates. ^ »uyal sister, and took a consort of his own 5 i 685.] Objects to the use of rouge. rious mariner in which she attempted to cver-riile his reluctance. Little had she learned of the combative nature of mankind during her twelve years of matrimony. It seems that James allowed her to say what she pleased in any matter of dispute, but acted according to his own plea- sure. In many respects, he had acted much wiser and better if he had followed her advice. She was greatly opposed to his allowing father Petre any share in his councils ; she disliked the man, and perceived that he would lead her royal husband into unpopular courses. Of a far more courteous character than her correspondence with the duke of Modena, her brother, was the letter which Mary Beatrice wrote to the prince of Orange, in reply to the congratulations he had addressed to her by his ambassador : — “ Whitehall, March 16, 1685. “ The lines you sent me by Mr. Overke [Overkirk], and the compliments he made me from you, were so obliging, that 1 know not how to thank you half enough for it ; but I hope you believe that all the marks you give me of your friendship are very agreeable to me, and so must desire the continuance of it, which I am sure I shall always deserve from you ; for nothing can ever alter me from being, with all sincerity, and without compliments, “ Yours truly, “ M. R. “Pray follow my example, and write to me without any ceremony, for it is not to be minded between such friends as we are.” i Though all things wore a smiling aspect at the beginning of her consort’s reign, the fickle multitude evincing the enthusiastic loyalty which is generally manifested towards a new sovereign, Mary Beatrice was neither well in body nor tranquil in mind. “ The health of the queen of England,” writes Barillon to Louis XIV., “ is not in a good state ; those who are about her person believe that she will not live long. Her malady is a species of inflammation on the chest, with violent attacks of colic, which frequently return. She believes herself in danger.” ^ In another letter his excellency speaks of her majesty having become very thin and pale. Up to that period, Mary Beatrice had never used art to heighten her complexion. She had a great objec- tion to rouge, not only as a matter of taste, but from a religious scruple. It was, however, the fashion for the ladies of her court to paint, and the king told her he wished her to do the same, more out of complaisance, probably, to the opinion of others, than because he imagined that arti- ficial opaque tints of red could harmonize better with the classic dignity of her features than her own pure marble-like complexion. ^J'he queen, willing to please her consort at any rate, at length complied with the fashion by putting on rouge. Father Seraphin, a Capuchin friar of great sanctity, seemed surprised when he saw her thus ; and in reply to her remark about the paleness that seemed to render it necessary, l/)luntly exclaimed, “ Madame, I would rather see your majesty yellow, I 1 Dalrymple’s Appendix, 116. Copied from the original in king William’s box, at Ken Blington-palace. 2 Despatches in Fox’s Appendix. 6 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [168 5. or even green, than rouged.” This being in the presence of the king* the queen was infinitely amused at the uncourtier- like sincerity of the old ecclesiastic, and could never think of his rejoinder without laugh- ing.^ The cause that robbed the cheek of the consort of James IL of bloom, preyed on her spirits, and occasionally ruffled the equanimity of her temper, was her inability to induce him to dismiss his audacious paramour, Catharine Sedley, from her household.^ This woman, after James's accession to the throne, aspired to become a recognised state mistress, and to enjoy the like power she had seen the duchess of Ports- mouth exercise in the late reign. Unfortunately those who called them- selves James’s best friends, the earl of Rochester for instance, and other gentlemen who dreaded the effects of his blind zeal for Romanism, which they attributed to the influence of his consort, thought that it would be as well if that influence were counterbalanced by the fascina- tions of her rival. Catharine Sedley piqued herself on being ‘‘a good Protestant,” which goodness consisted not, in her case, in the purity and holiness of life enjoined by the reformed religion, but in hostility to that of Rome, and she was accustomed to amuse James with the most cutting raillery on the ceremonies and dogmas of his faith. It was devoutly hoped by Rochester, Clarendon, and others, that her powers of ridicule would, in time, destroy his majesty’s unpopular veneration for the church of Rome, and they very improperly encouraged him in his unprincipled violation of his conjugal duties.^ The queen, when she learned that her rival was supported by the king’s brothers-in-law, treated them and their ladies with the disdain which such conduct was calculated to excite in her bosom. This was in turn resented and revenged in various ways, and the result was, that Sunderland, who was politically opposed to the earl of Rochester, and affected to pay great court to the queen, worked his way into a pre- ponderance of power in the cabinet, not through her favour, for she always distrusted him, but in consequence of her hostility to the allies of Catharine Sedley."^ Sad indeed it is when the virtuous affections of a pure and sensitive heart are rendered instrumental to the selfish interest of cold, calculating politicians. Yet the jealousy of Mary Beatrice was not the coarse feeling that belongs to vulgar-minded women. Long afte^ » MS. Memorials of Mary Beatrice of Mo- dena. 2 Catharine Sedley was the daughter of the witty and profligate gentleman author Sir Cliarles Sedley : she had been mistress to James Jl. for some time previous to his mar- riage with the queen. She was very plain, except a stately tigure : she had a talent for repartee, coarse enough to be called wit in those days. She insisted on the reward for hei- vile course of life, which was granted by James, who made her baroness of Darlington and countess; ot Dorchester, but only for life. The most respectable trait in her father’ll; character was his indignation, as a gentle- man, at this disgraceful advancement of his only (;hild. Heuc^ that well-knowm line oV Dr. Johnson’s — ' “ And Sedley cursed the* form that pleaseo a king.” ’ Her daughter, by the king, married Sheffielul duke of Buckingham. | 3 Macldntosh. Lingard. 1 4 Ibid, \ i 685 .] Passionate jealousy of the king, 7 the death of her lord, when she alluded to her affection for him, she once adverted to her wrongs in these words : “ I will not say that he had no other attachment or passion. The king was ready to sacrifice his crown to his faith, but had not resolution to banish a mistress. I said to him once, ‘ Sir, is it possible that you would, for the sake of one passion, lose the merit of all your sacrifices ? ’ ” On another occasion her majesty confessed that she had suffered herself to be so far transported by her indignant feelings, as to say to the king, “ Give her my dower, make her queen of England, but let me never see her more !” Mary Beatrice considered, however, that she had been guilty of a great fault, in speaking thus to her lord.^ The remonstrances of the priests and the lords of his own creed, who made common cause with her majesty, induced James to expunge Mrs. Sedley’s name from the list of the ladies of his injured consort’s household, and he made a strong effort to break the disgraceful tie by enjoining her departure from the court. Such intimacies are much easier contracted than broken, as all princes find to their cost. Catharine Sedley left town for a little while, but retained her apartments at Whitehall ; the result will be shown anon. It can scarcely be imagined that James really preferred a coarse-minded, unchaste, ugly woman, to his virtuous, loving, and beautiful wife. The empire of Catharine Sedley was that of habit, maintained by violence and effrontery. She was the mother, at that time, of a grown-up daughter, whom he had married to the earl of Annesley. James, notwithstanding his infidelities, regarded his consort with feelings of respect, amounting to veneration. His admiration for her personal charms is testified by the device he chose for the reverse of her coronation medal, in which her graceful figure, clothed in fiowing draperies, is seated on a rock in the character ot Britannia, with an inscription from ^Eneas’s address to Venus, o dea CERTE. The proclamations were issued for the coronation of the king and queen to take place April 23, being St. George’s-day. Circulars were on this occasion issued to the peeresses to attend on the queen at that ceremonial in scarlet robes and coronets. One of the Scotch judges, Sir John Lauder, of Fountainhall, makes a singular observation in his diary on the intimation that her majesty was to be crowned : “ What the coronation of the queen imports, is doubted if it will make her regent after his death. A massy crown of gold is making for her.” No queen-consort had been crowned in England, with the single exception of Anne of Denmark, since Anne Boleyn, and great interest was excited jat the expectation of Mary Beatrice taking her proper place in this imposing spectacle, which her great beauty and majestic figure were eminently calculated to adorn. So many ancient claims were revived /for the performance of various services, which, in the olden times, were 1 MS. Memorials of Mary Beatrice, by a sister of Chaillot. 8 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [ 1 6 8 5. required of the manorial nobility of England by the sovereign, but had in later years fallen into disuse, that a court was empowered to sit at Westminster for the purpose of deciding them previous to the corona- tion. This court was opened on the 30th of March.^ The lord of the manor of Bardolf, in Addington, Surrey, claimed to find a man to make a dish of grout ^ for their majesties’ table, and therefore prayed that the king’s master-cook might perform that service, which was granted. The lord of the manor of Fyngrith, Essex, claimed to be chamberlain to the queen for that day, and to have the queen’s bed and furniture, basons, &c., belonging to the office, and to have a clerk in the exchequer to demand and receive the queen’s gold.^ This claim was disallowed, because not made out as regarded the movables ; as for the ancient immunity of the queen-gold, or aurum reginoBj it was never either claimed or received by Mary Beatrice. King James, with his usual regard to economy, curtailed some of the expensive details connected with his inauguration, especially the cavalcade from the Tower, by which he effected a retrenchment of upwards of 30,000?. In consequence of the plunder of the crown-jewels by the roundheads during the civil war, every article of the queen’s regalia had to be supplied out of the fund voted for the coronation in this reign. No parsimony, however, was shown by James in regard to the circlet, crown, and other regal ornaments that were made expressly for the use of his consort, for they appear to have been of unparalleled magnificence. The price of the diamonds, pearls, and other gems with which her imperial diadem was set, amounted to 100,658?. sterling, according to Evelyn, who saw the bills, attested by the goldsmith and jeweller who set them. When completed, however, it was valued at 111,900?.* The coronation was in the Easter week. King James, on the Maundy- Thursday previous, performed in person the ancient ceremonial observ- ance of the sovereigns of England, by washing the feet of fifty-two poor men, according to the number of his own years, and touched several for the “ king’s evil.” The night before the coronation, the queen slept at St. James’s-palace, her former abode when duchess of York, and always; preferred by her to the royal palace of Whitehall. The next morning j having performed her devotions there, she was attired by her ladies of' * Among some of the curious observances connected with the customs of regality in the olden time on such occasions, may be reckoned the claim of the lord of the manor of Lyston, in Essex, to make wafers for the king and queen, to serve them up at their table, and to have all the instruments of silver and metal, with all the linen used on this occasion, with a certain proportion of the ingredients of which these dainty little cakes were compounded, and living for himself and three men. This claim was allowed, the composition and baking of the wafers were performed by deputy, chosen from among thel household, and the fees compounded for 30Z.' — British Chronologist. 2 This dish was that far-famed regal potage.j or delicate white soup, known by the name of " dillegrout ” at the coronation-banquets ot the Norman and Plaritagenet sovereigns. ^ 3 British Chronologist. ' * This very elegant crown, or a fac-simik\ of it in shape and design, is shown among'! her majesty queen Victoria’s regalia in the Tower, as the crown with which subsequent \ queens-consort have been crowned. 9 i 685 .] Queen's coronation toilette. the bedchamber, assisted by her women, in her royal robes of purple velvet, furred with ermine, and looped with ropes and tassels of pearls ; her kirtle being of rich white and silver brocade, ornamented with pearls and precious stones, with a stomacher very elaborately set with jewels. On her head was a cap of purple velvet, turned up with ermine, powdered with gems, and a circlet of gold very richly adorned with large diamonds, curiously set, a row of pearls round the upper edge. She then went privately in her chair to Whitehall, and thence through Privy-gardens into Channel-row, and across New Palace-yard to West- minster-hall, where the court of wards had been fitted up for her ma- jesty to repose herself in with her ladies, while the ceremonial of the procession was set in order in the hall. At the same time that the king entered Westminster-hall, her majesty, attended by her lord chamber- lain, and her other officers and ladies, left the court of wards by a private door at the south-west corner of the hall, and went to her chair of state under her canopy at the upper end of the hall, and stood before it until the king was seated. The seats of the royal pair were under separate canopies, that of the queen being somewhat lower and smaller than that of the king, but both exceedingly rich.^ After the regalia had been delivered to the king, and placed, with ceremonies too elaborate to recapitulate here, on the table at which their majesties were to dine that day, and the said table being covered with a large fine carpet of Turkey or Persian work, the queen’s crown, sceptre, and the ivory rod with the dove were, in like manner, delivered and placed on the table before her majesty at the king’s left hand, and were distributed by the lord great- chamberlain to the noblemen appointed to carry them. The queen’s procession, headed by her vice-chamberlain, Mr. Kobert Strickland, preceded that of the king in the following order : The earl of Dorset carrying the ivory rod, the earl of Eutland the sceptre, and the duke of Beaufort the crown. After them followed the queen her- self, supported by the bishops of London and Winchester, under a rich canopy carried by sixteen barons of the Cinque-ports. Her train was borne by the young duchess of Norfolk, assisted by four daughters of earls ; viz., lady Jane Noel, daughter of the earl of Gainsborough ; lady Anne Herbert, daughter of the earl of Pembroke ; lady Anne Spencer, daughter of the earl of Sunderland ; and lady Essex Koberts. The countess of Peterborough, groom of the stole as she was called, with two ladies of the bedchamber, lady Sophia Bulkeley, and Frances, countess of Bantry, with Miss E. Bromley and Mrs. Margaret Dawson, her majesty’s bedchamber women, were in close attendance on her person. The king’s procession, in which the venerable Sir William Dugdale walked, in his eighty-second year, as Garter king-of-arms, followed in solemn state, fiheir majesties walked in this order from 1 Sandford’s Book of the Coronation. 1 0 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ 1 6 8 5 . Westminster-hall, through New Palace-yard, into King-street, and so through the great Sanctuary to the west door of the abbey, the passage being railed in on both sides, from the north door of the hall to the entrance into the choir, guarded by his majesty’s guards, horse and foot. Two breadths of blue cloth were spread for their majesties to walk on, all the way from the stone steps in the hall to the foot of the steps in the abbey choir, amounting in all to 1220 yards. The ancient picturesque custom of strewing flowers before the royal procession being revived on this occasion, was performed by Mrs. Mary Dowle, hereditary herb-woman to the queen, assisted by six young ladies, all wearing hoods, as represented in the plate illustrative of the flower-strewing in Sandford’s Book of the Coronation of James 11. and Mary Beatrice. The herb-strewers appear there in the full-dress costume of the period —deep pointed bodices, with open robes, looped back to show rich petticoats. They wear long gloves, and very deep ruffles, falling from the elbows nearly to the wrists. Baskets, containing two bushels of dowers and sweet herbs each, were carried — no light burden for the fair strewers — two women to every basket, and nine basketfuls were strewn. As it was April, we may presume that violets, primroses, cowslips, pansies, bluebells, and jonquils, with stores of sweethrier sprigs, and other herbs of grace, formed the staple commodity, over which the gold-broidered slippers of the queen and her noble attendants trod daintily on that proud day, as they proceeded from the hall to the western entrance of the abbey, the drums heating a march, the trumpets sounding levets, and the choir singing, all the way to the church, the well-known anthem commencing “ 0 Lord, grant the king a long life,’' &c. Both James and his consort were greeted with reiterated acclama- tions from the crowded spectators, who forgot, at least for one day, all differences of creeds in the delight occasioned by the royal pageant. The people were, indeed, prepared to look upon the queen with pleasure, for she had hallowed the day of her consecration with a deed of tender and munificent charity, by releasing all the prisoners who were in gaol for small debts, taking the payment upon herself of all sums not ex- ceeding five pounds. Eighty prisoners were discharged from Newgate alone, through the gracious compassion of Mary Beatrice, which was extended to all the small debtors in confinement throughout the realm Hundreds and thousands, therefore, had reason to remember that anni- versary, and to bless her name when, of all the glories of royalty that surrounded her that day, nothing remained to her but the empty naicne of queen, and the sweet recollection that she had caused many to rejoiloe in her joy, by doing good when she had it in her power. ! When the queen reached the entrance of the choir, she left her canop y and its supporters, and, preceded by her vice- chamberlain and regaAia * Historic Observes, by Sir John Lauder of J’ountuinhall, ( 1 lbs 5.] Queen joins in the prayers of the church of England. 11 bearers, and followed by her ladies in attendance, ascended the steps of the raised platform, or theatre, between her two bishops ; and so going to the chair of state prepared for her, on the east side of the sacrarium, she stood beside it to await the king’s coming.^ It has been said, that this royal ceremonial derived its greatest lustre from the presence of a queen, whose graceful figure and majestic carriage were so well fitted to adorn the external pomp with which royalty is surrounded on such an occasion. Sandford’s prints of this coronation represent Mary Beatrice with her hair dressed very low, a style that well became her classic outline, and with a profusion of long ringlets falling on either side her face, and fioating on her bosom. Another contemporary quaintly observes, “ the jewels she had on were reckoned worth a million, which made her shine like an angel.” ^ While she stood by her chair of state, the Westminster scholars greeted her with shouts of Vivat regina Maria 1 a compliment never paid before to any but a sovereign. This salutation, or short prayer as it is termed, they continued to reiterate till the arrival of the king, to whom they knelt, saluting him in like manner by shouting Vivat rex ! as he ascended the steps of the choir to the theatre. At the recognition, the people signified their willingness and joy with loud acclamations of “ God save king James ! ” After the offering of the pall of cloth of gold had been made by the king, the queen was brought up from her seat to the altar to perform the like ceremony, her regalia being borne before her. Mary Beatrice joined in the service of the church of England, not only without hesitation, but with edifying piety. Indeed, the devout behaviour of the queen, and the earnestness with which she made her responses were generally noticed.® The bishop of London had presented her with a small book of the prayers which were appointed to be used on that occasion, and she read from it with the greatest reverence and attention during the whole of the ceremony Mary Beatrice probably felt at that moment, that the differences between Christian churches were not great enough to prevent those who agreed in the truths of Scripture from uniting together in an act of prayer. The sermon was preached by Turner, bishop of Ely, at half-past one. The services of anointing, crowning, investing, and enthroning the king, and the homage from bishops and peers, were performed before the consecration of the queen took place, she having remained seated in her chair of state on the south side of the area, a spectatress of the inauguration of her royal lord, till the last verse of the anthem, “ His seed also will I make to endure for ever, and his throne as the days of heaven,” had been sung, followed by flourish of trumpets, beat of drum, and the shouts of “ God save the king ! ” from those who were so soon to transfer their oaths of allegiance to 1 Sandford. 3 Patrick’s Diary. 2 Fountainhall’3 Historic Observes. * MS. from the family papers of George IV 12 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [i685. another. King James had bestowed much care on his consort’s regalia, but none on his own. The crown had been made for Charles II., whose phrenological organization was broadly and powerfully developed ; con- sequently it was too wide , in the circlet, and not lofty enough in the arch, to fit James II., for the heads of the royal brothers were as unlike as their characters. When Bancroft placed this diadem on James’s head, it tottered. Henry Sydney put forth his hand and kept it from falling, saying, as he did so, This is not the first time, your majesty, that my family has supported the crown,” ^ — a brilliant bon-mot if it had been based on facts, but a vain boast from a member of a republican family, and who, at the very time he was complimenting himself for this small crown service, was engaged in a treasonable correspondence with the prince of Orange, for the purpose of undermining the throne of his unsuspecting sovereign. 2 It is well known that this trifling incident, which a little foresight on the part of James might have prevented, was regarded by the superstition of many present as an evil omen. Few are aware that the circumstance was noted with dismay by the anxious queen, who was, of course, the most deeply interested person there. She mentioned it herself, many years after the Eevolution, in these words: “There was a presage that struck us, and every one who ob- served it. They could not make the crown keep firm on the king’s head ; it appeared always on the point of falling, and it required some care to hold it steady.” ^ When the ceremony of anointing the queen took place, the duchess of Norfolk took off her rich cap of state, and the archbishop pronounced the prayer as she knelt before him, and poured the oil on her head in the form of a cross. The ladies then opened the bosom of her majesty’s dress, and he anointed her on the breast with the same ceremonies. The duchess of Norfolk dried the place where the oil had been poured with fine cotton wool, and placed a fine linen coif on her majesty’s head. Then the archbishop put the coronation ring, set with a fair ruby, and sixteen smaUer ones round the hoop, on her fourth finger; this ring Mary Beatrice wore to her dying day, and nothing could ever induce her to part with it. When Bancroft placed the crown on her head, the cries of “ Long live the queen !” resounded through the abbey, and were man}^ times redoubled and prolonged. Then all the peeresses put on their coronets, and the choir sang that appropriate anthem from the 45 th Psalm : — My heart is inditing of a good matter : I speak of the things I have made unto the king At his right hand shall stand the queen,” &c. 1 1 Barnet. Echard. ^ MS. Memonals of Mary Beatrice, by a 2 See his letters in Blencowe’s Sidney Cor- sister of Chaillot, in the hdtel de Soubi^ respondence. Paris. 1 13 i 685 .] Queen^s devout behaviour. While this anthem was being sung, her majesty rose, and was conducted to her throne, which was placed at the king’s left hand, and many steps lower than his. She made a very low reverence to his majesty, as she passed before him to take her seat on her throne, where she reposed her- self till the end of the anthem, while the peeresses, which was an unusual token of respect, came up to render her complimentary marks of homage.^ The queen’s coronation-medals, bearing her effigies, were thrown about at the same time. In consequence of the unfortunate difference in the religious opinions of the sovereign and his consort from those of the great majority of their subjects, and of that church of which James, in virtue of his regal office, was the nominal head and defender, they did not receive the sacrament. “ At the coronation,” says bishop Patrick, “ I observed a vast difference between the king’s behaviour and the queen’s. At the reading of the litany, they both came to kneel before the altar ; and she answered at all the responses, but he never moved his lips. She expressed great devotion, but he little or none, often looking about as unconcerned. When she was anointed and crowned, I never saw greater devotion in any countenance : the motion of her body and hands was very becoming, and she answered ‘ Amen ’ to every prayer with much humility. There was not the least sign of pleasure or transport, but all seriousness and composure of spirit.” The prayers being ended, the king and queen descended from their thrones, and proceeded in state to St. Edward’s chapel, where they delivered their crowns and sceptres to the archbishop of Canterbury, by whom they were placed on the altar there. Then their majesties retired each into a separate retiring-room or traverse, and the queen reposed herself in hers, till his majesty was revested in his imperial robes of purple velvet. Then coming forth, and standing before the altar there, the archbishop placed other crowns on their heads, with caps of purple velvet : that which had been made expressly for the queen was of exceeding richness and elegance of form. During the recess, Mary Beatrice departed from the solemn rigour of royal etiquette, by going in her state crown into the private box, where the princess Anne and prince George of Denmark sat incognito to see the ceremonial, and chatted affectionately with them for some time.^ Her majesty returned from St. Edw ard’s chapel, preceding the king, holding her sceptre with the cross in her right hand, and the ivory rod with the dove in her left ; her train borne as before. Passing through the choir, she was again received under her canopy of cloth of gold by the sixteen barons of the 1 MS. Memorials of Mary Beatrice, by a Auguste Gargan, p. 91. It is entitled, “ Rela- sister of Chaillot, in the hotel de Soubise, tion du Couronnement du Roi Jacques Jl. et Paris. de la Heine.” The queen is repeatedly men- King’s library MS , in French, presented tioned, and the whole is most interesting. Il by Ge<»rge IV. from iiis family papers. — was evidently sent for the information of the Kecueil de Pieces, extracted by George royal house of Hanover. 14 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1635. Cinque-ports ; and thus, guarded on either side by the band of gentle- men-jjensioners, she left the church, followed immediately by king James in his regalia, with the swords of state borne before him. As the royal procession passed from the abbey to Westminster-hall, the drums and trumpets sounded, and a vast concourse of spectators rent the air with acclamations, and cries of “ Long live the king and queen !” Many fountains played with jets of wine, according to the custom of the good old times.^ When their majesties returned to Westminster-hall, they reposed themselves in their separate retiring-rooms in the court of wards, till all the company had taken their places at the seven tables, which were laid for the privileged or invited guests at the banquet. Then the king, preceded by his great state-officers, made his entry, with his crown on his head, his sceptre and orb in either hand, and seated him- self in his chair of state at the head of the royal table. Immediately after, the queen, wearing her crown, and bearing the sceptre and the ivory rod with the dove, her train supported by her ladies, came forth from her retirement in the court of wards, and took her seat in her chair of state at the king’s left hand. Most of the ancient ceremonies observed at the coronation-banquets of the Anglo-Norman and Plantagenet sovereigns were revived by James on this occasion. The lords who claimed the office of sewers that day, went to the dresser of the kitchen to receive the dishes. The master of the horse officiated as sergeant of the silver-scullery, and went in person to the kitchen-bar to take assay of the king’s meat, which was thus per- formed ; Having called for a dish of meat, he wiped the bottom of the dish, and also the cover, within and without, tasted it, covered it, and caused it to be conveyed to the royal table, and attended by a proces- sion of all the great officers of the household, including the earl-marshal with his rod, the lord high-steward with his white staff; the lord high-constable, with his constable’s staff, rode up the hall on horseback, preceding the first course. Thirty- two dishes of hot meat were brought up by the knights of the Bath, bareheaded, followed by a supply of other dishes by private gentlemen. Then the lord of the manor of Addington had the satisfaction of placing the mess of dillegrout before their majes- ties, and was afterwards knighted for his pains.2 Dinner being placed on the table by the king and queen’s carvers, with the help of the earl-sewers and their assistants, the lord great- chamberlain, ^\fith his majesty’s cup-bearers and assistants, went to the king’s cupboard and washed, before they presumed to tender their ser- vices to the sovereign. Then the lord great-chamberlain, preceded by the usher of the black rod, assisted by the cup-bearer and followed by the officials before mentioned, brought up the great basin and ewer fur his majesty to wash. At the queen’s washing, water was appointed 1 Kiag^s library MS. Sandford’s Book of the Coronation. ^ Ibid, 15 i 685 .] The banquet, to be poured on her majesty’^ hands by the earl of Devonshire, her cup- bearer, and the earl of Bridgewater was to offer her the towel ; but she only used a wet napkin, which was presented to her by the earl of Devonshire on his knee. Grace was then said by the dean of the chapel-royal, and their majesties sat down to dinner. The banquet consisted of upwards of a thousand dishes, among which many Scotch dainties, appearing for the first time, puzzled southern gastronomes with their hard names and novel forms, and delighted the northern magnates, by testifying their majesties’ remembrance of the hospitalities they had received in Scotland. Before the second course. Sir Charles Dymoke, the king’s champion, clad in one of the king’s best suits of white armour, having a helmet on his head, with a great plume of feathers — white, red, and blue — mounted on a fine white charger, rode into the hall preceded by trumpeters, and attended by his two esquires richly dressed, one bearing his lance erect, the other his target, the earl- marshal and the lord-constable, both on horseback, bringing him up to the royal table, where the herald-at-arms proclaimed his challenge, and the champion flung down his gauntlet — not entirely a needless cere- mony, as Monmouth was taking measures to contest the crown. This being thrice repeated, and no objection offered, the champion made a low obeisance to the king, who drank to him from a gilt bowl, and then sent the bowl of wine with its cover to him. The champion, with a low obeisance, pledged his majesty again, and then, having performed his service, rode out of the hall, taking the bowl and cover as his fee. Dinner being ended and grace said, their majesties performed their ablu- tions with the same ceremonies as before dinner; and then the king resuming his orb and sceptre, the queen her sceptre and ivory rod with the dove, they withdrew with their officers of state, their trains borne as before, the queen attended by her ladies, into the court of wards, about seven in the evening, and having delivered their regalia to the dean of Westminster and the master of the jewel-house, they departed in the same manner as they came.^ In the days of her exile and sorrowful widowhood, Mary Beatrice declared “ that she had never taken any pleasure in the envied name of a queen yet she sometimes spoke of the glories of her coronation, and descanted with true feminine delight on the magnificence of the regalia that had been prepared for her. “ My dress and royal mantle,” said she, “ were covered with pi’ecious stones, and it took all the jewels that all the goldsmiths of London could procure to decorate my crown ; of all these, nothing was lost except one small diamond, worth about forty shillings.” 2 She told the nuns of Chaillot, “that no coronation of any preceding king of England had been so well conducted, and that all the ^ The king's son by Catharine Sedley died ^ ]V1S. Memorials of Mary Beatrice, by a on the day of the coronation. sister of Chaillot 16 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [iGss. arrangements had been made under the special superintendence of king James, who ordered a hook to be made of it.” ^ There is a splendid original portrait of Mary Beatrice, in her crown and coronation robes, in the collection of his grace the duke of Buccleugh, at Dalkeith -palace. She is seated on her throne, with an orb in one hand, and the ivory rod in the other ; it has been, by some mistake, lettered A. B., and is, in consequence, shown as the coronation portrait of queen Anne, to whose exuberant charms it bears about the same resemblance as a Provence rose to a full-blown red peony. “ The English coronation oath,” observes that shrewd Scotch lawyer, Sir John Lauder, of Fountainhall, “ is not very special as to the pro- testant or popish religion, but runs somewhat in general terms.” A stringent clause for the protection of the church of England as by law established, ought, in common prudence, to have been introduced at the inauguration of James II. ; but it was not, and he endeavoured to take advantage of the omission by adhering to the original meaning of the pledge, not to the new interpretation of it. Almost the first use made by James II. of his royal prerogative was, to release several thousand Eoman catholics and pro testant dissenters, who had been imprisoned for nonconformity. Among these victims of legalized bigotry were 1500 members of the amiable and inoffensive society, vulgarly styled quakers. He also put a stop to the revolting trade, then too much practised by base individuals, of informing against others, under pre- tences of religious differences, for the sake of gratifying private revenge, or sharing the fines. James had suffered too much annoyance in his own person from the existence of the iniquitous statutes by which such crimes were sanctioned, not to wish to ameliorate the case of others who stood in a like predicament ; but, in his zeal to exercise the paternal prerogative of mercy and justice towards an oppressed portion of his subjects, he rushed single-handed against the threefold barrier of the penal laws, the test act, and popular opinion. The two first were destined to fall, but not by the assault of regal power ; they fell gradually before the progressive march of reason and moral justice, but not till nearly a century and a half after the abortive attempts of James II. to do away with them had involved him in ruin, for they were then supported by that capricious giant — public opinion, against which princes can seldom contend with impunity. The ostentatious parade with which James thought proper to practise the ceremonials of his church gave great offence to many of his subjects. He was no longer contented with accompanying his consort to her chapel, but opened a Catholic chapel in Whitehall, to which he insisted * This book, a small folio by Sandford, con- an authority for all succeeding coronations in tains a series of highly curious and important which a queen-consort has been associated, costume illustrations, and has been used as i 685 .] King' s parade of Homamsm, 17 on their both going in state to receive the sacrament, attended by the great officers of their household. His brother-in-law, the earl of Koches- ter, who held the office of lord treasurer, absented himself under the pretence of indisposition. The duke of Norfolk, bearing the sword of state, stopped at the door of the chapel : “ My lord of Norfolk, your father would have gone further,” said James. “ Your majesty’s father would not have gone so far,” rejoined the duke ; but he soon after made up his mind to attend the king as far as the gallery. The duke of Somerset refused to enter. The queen’s lord chamberlain, lord Godolphin, was more compliant. It was his duty to lead her by the hand into the royal closet, and conduct her to the steps of the altar when she thought proper to receive the sacrament, and also to lead her back to her own apartment when mass was over — privileges which no protestant scruple could induce Godolphin to forego.' There were no other terms, he was aware, on which any man might hope to touch the hand of a princess to whom these lines of lord Falkland were peculiarly applicable : — “ Such beauty, that from all hearts love must flow ; Such dignity, that none durst tell her so.” Godolphin had been an active member of the exclusion faction. James, on his accession to the throne, generously forgave him, and preferred him to the office of lord chamberlain to the queen. The heart of the whig statesman was not proof against the personal charms and graceful manners of his royal mistress ; his passion was hopeless, but it influenced his political conduct, and he became what, in the angry parlance of the times, was called a trimmer — a term peculiarly applicable to this noble- man, who, being a double-minded man, was, of course, unstable in all his ways. Mary Beatrice was present at the opening of the new parliament. May 22, 1685. She and the princess Anne of Denmark came into the house of lords together, without state, some time before the arrival of the king, and stood next above the archbishops on the right hand of the throne. Her majesty remained standing while the prayers were read,^ and even while several of the lords took the test and the usual oaths ; “ so that,” says Evelyn, “ she heard the pope and the worship of the Virgin re- nounced very decently.” Then came in the king, in his robes, wearing the crown ; being seated, the commons were introduced, and he delivered his speech, at every period whereof the house gave loud shouts. He finished with announcing that morning’s news of Argyle’s landing in the west highlands of Scotland from Holland, and expressing his conviction of the zeal and readiness of his parliament to assist him as he required ; “at which,” pursues Evelyn, “ there followed another Vive le EoiV' and * Barillon’s Despatches * Evelyn^s Diary, vol. ii. p. 598. 18 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [ 168 5, so his majesty retired. It does not appear that a special seat was provided for the accommodation of the queen, or that her presence was in any way recognised. The commons voted the usual revenue to his majesty. The rebellion of Argyle in Scotland, and of Monmouth in England, strengthened rather than shook the throne of James II., in consequence of the celerity with which both were put down. Monmouth landed, on the 11th of June, 1685, at Lyme, in Dorsetshire, set up his standard, and issued a proclamation, in which he denounced the king “ as a usurper, a murderer, a traitor, and a tyrant ; accusing him, in the most intemperate language, of burning the city of London, murdering Sir Edmundbury Godfrey, cutting the throat of the earl of Essex, and poisoning the late king, his brother.” Public opinion was at that time in favour of king James. Both houses of parliament united in an address to his majesty, offering to assist him with their lives and fortunes in putting down the rebellion. An act of attainder passed against Monmouth three days after the news of his landing was received. In the course of a week, Monmouth’s forces amounted to 10,000 men. The enthusiastic welcome he received at Taunton encouraged him, in evil hour, to proclaim himself king by the title of James II., and to set a price on the head of “ the usurper, James duke of York,” as he now termed the lawful sovereign. The news of the defeat and capture of Argyle in Scotland was followed by the overthrow of Monmouth’s cause at Sedgmoor, July 6. He was taken two days after, concealed in a ditch, near Ptingwood. The ago- nizing love of life prompted him to write a humble letter of supplica- tion to the king, expressive of “ remorse for what he had done, and imploring his mercy, and above all, to be permitted to see himj and to speak only one word to him, as he had that to reveal to him which he dared not commit to paper.” He also wrote both to the queen and the queen- dowager, begging them to intercede for him with his majesty to grant him an interview. Thus urged, James very improperly consented to see him. Monmouth threw himself at his feet, and implored for mercy in the most passionate terms. The king had forgiven him very bitter injuries and intolerable provocations, when duke of York, on a personal humiliation, scarcely twenty months before ; and the unfortunate pri- soner must have deluded himself with the hope that he had only to reiterate his penitentiary protestations and promises, with submissions proportioned to the aggravation of his offence, to receive the like grace. But the case was altered: James was now a king, invested with the responsible office of maintaining the laws that provided for the peace and security of his people. Two kingdoms had been plunged into the horrors of civil war, and more than 3000 of his subjects had already perished in consequence of this attempt, and it behoved him to take proper measures to prevent the repetition of such scenes. “ I have been told,” says 19 1085.] King^s inter niew with Monmouth, Sir John Bi*amston, “ that the king asked him how he could expect pardon, that had used him so? ‘to make me,' said he, ‘a murderer and poisoner of my dear brother, besides all the other villanies you charge me with in your declaration.’ To which Monmouth replied, ‘ Fergusson drew it, and made me sign it before ever I read it.’ That so angered the king, that he said, ‘ this is trifling ; would you sign a paper of such consequence and not read it ?’ So he turned from him, and bade him prepare to die.” ^ Lord Dartmouth affirms that James told Monmouth “ that he had put it out of his power to pardon him, by proclaiming himself king.” Mon- mouth insinuated a desire of returning to the church of Rome, in which he had been educated. It was, perhaps, with a view of assailing James on his weak point — his spirit of proselyting — that Monmouth had so earnestly besought to be admitted to his presence ; and this might be the mysterious “ one word ” that he wished to say to him, for it is certain he made no political disclosures. If he had any such to make, he was unhappily deterred by the presence of the treacherous Sunderland, whom James, with his usual want of tact, had brought with him as one of the witnesses of this ill-judged interview — Sunderland, whom he knew had been deeply implicated in all Monmouth’s former plots, and had after- wards good reason to believe was his confldant in the late rebellion.^ Kennet endeavours to throw a most odious imputation on the consort of James II. in the following passage, for which no other authority is given than the proverbially unfaithful evidence of hearsay : “ The queen is said to have insulted him [Monmouth] in a very arrogant and un- merciful manner ; so that when the duke saw there was nothing designed by this interview but to satisfy the queen’s revenge, he rose up from his majesty’s feet with a new air of bravery, and was carried to the Tower.” Mary Beatrice could not insult the unfortunate duke in his distress, for she was not present. The interview^ took place in Chiffinch’s apartments, whither the king came accompanied only by his two secretaries of state, the earls of Middleton and Sunderland.* If, instead of the latter, it had been possible for the queen to have been present, the result might have been very different. But neither the etiquette of business nor royalty permitted her to witness this secret conference in the apartments of one of the menial officers of the palace. James, wffio according to the memoirs compiled by the historiographer of George IV., ^ had some difficulty in overcoming his natural inclination to spare the unhappy culprit when he begged so hard for life, did not of course expose himself to the additional trial of bringing a tender-hearted, excitable female like Mary Beatrice, to be a witness of a scene which it was not in woman’s nature to behold ‘ Autnbiopn'aphy of Sir John Bramston, edited by lord Braybrooke. This passage is greatly contirmed i)y Sir John Reresby. 2 Journal of James 11. Sidney Correspond- ence, edited by Bleiicowe. 3 Journal of James. Life of James 11. Maepherson. C )ntinuation of Mackintosh. Reresby. Lingard. Fox. 4 Stanier Clarke. c 2 20 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [i085. '.vithout tears and intercessions in his behalf. Monmouth, who had oetter means of knowing the disposition of this princess than those writers with whom it became a matter of business, after the Revolution, to blacken the consort of James II. and the mother of the pretender, calculated on her compassion in that dreadful crisis of his fate. He had, as soon as he was taken, written to entreat her to unite her good offices with those of the queen-dowager to obtain for him an audience of the king, which audience would scarcely have been granted if she had been his enemy ; and after it had proved ineffectual, and he was told he must prepare for ^eath, he again wrote to both the queens^ to implore them to intercede for his life with the king. Would he have done this, if he had found Mary Beatrice capable of hardening her husband’s heart against him, much less if she had insulted him in his agony? Fox, whom no one can suspect of a favourable bias towards James’s consort, expressly declares this story to be wholly unworthy of credit without more certain evidence. “ It must be remarked, also,” says that author, “ that Burnet, whose general prejudices would not lead him to doubt any imputations against the queen, does not mention her majesty being present.” It has been assumed by some historians, that James was cognizant of all Jeffreys’ merciless proceedings,^ because there was a constant corre- spondence between the latter and Sunderland, and Sunderland’s letters contain assurances “ that the king approved, and thanked Jeffreys for his zeal in his service but this appears only one of the links in Sun- derland’s extensive chain of treachery. He and his friend Jeffreys played into each other’s hands, and amassed enormous sums by the sale of par- dons to the wealthy — a species of traffic of which Rochester and father Petre are also accused. It is a notorious fact, that Jeffreys, who was always in a state of exasperation of temper from bodily torture, and the irritability caused by habitual intemperance, scrupled not to set the king’s authority at nought, by hanging old major Holmes, notwith- standing the royal grace had been extended to him.^ Jeffreys pretended that it was an accident. The barbarities of Jeffreys were lamented by the king when the whole truth was made known to him by two cou- rageous and noble-minded men. Sir Thomas Cutler, the commanding- officer at Wells, and the good bishop Ken^, who made a personal appeal 1 Reresby. Mackintosh. Lingard, 2 The executions in the west of England, after Monmouth’s rebellion w£is put down, were bloody enough of themselves, without the palpable exaggerations and incredible fictions with which they have been embel- lished. The butcheries of the inhuman Kirke are spoken of by James, in his private journal, in teims of unqualified indignation and disgust; and as Kirke was one of the first to join the prince of Orange, by whom he was highly favoured and constantly em- ployed, it can scarcely be supposed that his conduct in the west of England was dictated by loyalty to the sovereign whom he deserted and betrayed. 3 Journal of James II. 4 Ken, in accordance with the apostolic* beauty of his character, had used the autho- rity of the church in putting a stop to the military executions of lord Feversham. and afterwards visited the sick and wounded prisoners, and relieved their bodily and spiritual wants at the same time. More than a thousand of these unfortunate p -rsons received succour in their distress from him. if)85.] Calumny on the queen, 21 to the monarch himself in behalf of some of the victims. James not only listened to their representations, but thanked Sir Thomas Cutler publicly for what he had done, and expressed a wish that others had imitated his humanity.^ A charge of peculiar turpitude has been brought against Mary Beatrice by lord Macaulay. After severely censuring her for not having exerted her influence successfully to prevent the executions that followed Monmouth’s insurrection, he says ; “ Unhappily, the only request she is known to have preferred touching the rebels was, that a hundred of those sentenced to transportation might be given to her. * The profit which she cleared on the cargo, after making large allowance for those who died of hunger and fever during the passage, cannot be estimated at less than a thousand guineas.” The only reference lord Macaulay has produced for these assertions is the marginal note, Sunderland to Jeffreys, Sept. 14, 1685, a letter containing only nine words bearing on the subject — “ the queen hath asked for a hundred of them.” And on this vague sentence, which, according to the phraseology of the era, might imply that she had interceded for the pardon of a hundred of the prisoners, did our imaginative author work up his circumstantial tale, consign a hundred men to the queen, freight a ship — query, what ship.? — with them, and after slaying part of the cargo with fever and part with famine, on this dreamy voyage, cleverly sell the miserable remnant, at some nameless port, at so good a price as to leave a clear profit of a thousand pounds to the queen. How happened it that neither Eapin, Wellwood, Oldmixon, nor Burnet, chronicled the transac- tion to her dishonour, and that no trace of it is to be found in the inflam- matory whig pamphlets, the public journals, the news-letters, or the diaries of the period.? Three years later, the power, the wealth, the patronage of the crown passed into the hands of William. What kept the relations and friends of a hundred free-born Englishmen, if cruelly and illegally sold into bondage by the exiled queen, silent then .? How happened it that no bereaved mother, faithful wife, duteous daughter, : fond sister, petitioned William and Mary for the redemption of those- dear ties of kindred, toiling unpaid in colonies no longer under the juris diction of a popish king .? The story is altogether one of the most absurd and unverified of modern fictions, and perfectly at variance with the character and conduct of Mary Beatrice, whose practice was to release captives from prison, not to* make merchandize of them. Witness, on the day of her coronation, her paying all debts, under five pounds, of prisoners in the united kingdom. Among the prisoners whose case came under the personal attention of “Yet,” said he, “though all this was well privy council; tempo William III. Life of known to king James, hf* never once blamed Ken, • Burnet. S.c also James’s me f r it.” — Ken’s examinations bcfoie the own remarks in his Journal 22 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [168 5 . the king, was the popular orator, Story, who had endeavoured to excite the indignation of the people against his majesty, by repeating, in very inflammatory language, all the libellous accusations that had been set forth in Monmouth’s proclamation. The incident being recorded by a violent nonconformist, Edmund Calamy, is not liable to suspicion of oyer- partiality to the unfortunate sovereign : — “When Story, taken and imprisoned for assisting Monmouth, was ordered before the king and l)rivy council, of a sudden the keeper declared his orders were to bring liim immediately, which he did in a coach, without giving him any time to prepare himself in any manner, only cautioning him to give a plain and direct answer to tlie questions king James might put to him. When brought before the privy council. Story made so sad and sorrowful a figure, that all present were surprised and frighted at his haggard and squalid appearance. When king James first cast his eyes upon him, he cried out, ‘ Is that a man, or what is it ?’ His majesty was told it was the rebel Story. ‘ Oh ! Story,’ said the king. ‘ I remember him : that is a rare fellow indeed !’ Then turning towards him, ‘ Pray, Story,’ says he, ‘ you were in Monmouth’s army in the west, were you not ?’ He, according to the advice given him, made answer presently, ‘ Yes, an’t ])lease your majesty.’ — ‘ Pray,’ said the king to him, ‘ you were a com- missary there, were you not?’ Again, Story replied, ‘Yes, an’t please your majesty.’ — ‘And you,’ said king James, ‘made a speech before great crowds of people, did you not?’ He again very readily answered, ‘ Yes, an’t please your majesty.’ — ‘ Pray,’ said king James, ‘ if you have not forgot what you said, let us have some taste of your fine speech ; let us have some specimen of some of the flowers of your rhetoric.’ Where- upon,” resumes Edmund Calamy, “ Story told us that he readily made answer, ‘ I told them, au’t your majesty, that it was you that fired the city of London.’ ^ — ‘ A rare rogue, upon my word,’ said the king ; ‘ and pray, what else did you tell them ?’ — ‘ I told them,’ said he, ‘ an’t please your majesty, that you poisoned your brother.’ ‘ Impudence in the utmost height of it,’ said king James. ‘ Pray, let us have something further, if your memory serves you.’ — ‘I further told them,’ said Mr. Story, ‘ that your majesty appeared to be fully determined to make the nation both papists and slaves.’ ‘ But what would you say. Story,’ asked the king, ‘ if, after all this, I were to grant you your life ?’ I’o which he, without any demur, made answer, ‘ That he would pray for his majesty as long as he lived.’ — ‘ Why, then,’ said the king, ‘ I freely pardon all that is past, and hope that you will not, for the fuLire, represent your king as inexorable.’ One well-authenticated good deed ought to coun- terbalance a great deal of reviling, and is certainly of more weight than > James and a large body of his sailors hard personally in so doing. See Pepys v\'ere the first that succeeded in stopping the 1 )iary. progress ol the flames ; and he worked very ^ Calainy’s Diary. ib85.] King ordains negro slaves to be baptized. 23 fifty pages of unsupported praise. Other instances of James’s clemency towards those who had personally injured him are recorded. Fergusson, who had drawn up Monmouth’s libellous proclamation, he freely par- doned ; also Hook, who had been confederate with some others to assassinate him-, by shooting him in the back coming from Somerset- house. The cruel treatment of the Protestants in France after the revocation of the edict of Nantes, had a prejudicial effect on the affairs of James II., by exciting a popular feeling of resentment against all members of the church of Kome whatsoever ; “ yet James greatly condemned the mea- sure, as both unchristian and impolitic. He did more ; he was very kind to the refugees — he was liberal to many of them. He ordered a brief for a charitable collection for them all over the nation. The king also ordered them to be denizened without paying fees, and gave them great immunities ; so that in all there came over, first and last, between foi;ty and fifty thousand of them.”^ In the latter end of June, the queen’s maternal grandmother, madame de Martinozzi, died at Rome of the personal injuries she received by falling down-stairs. Her property was inherited by her daughter, the duchess of Modena. This event, together with her own delicate state of health, might be the reason why Mary Beatrice appeared very little in public this summer. On the 18 th of July, she went with the king to see the regiments that had lately returned from Holland exercised on Blackheath. She spent the rest of the summer and autumn at Windsor. In September the king made a progress to Winchester, Portsmouth, and Southampton, and took great pleasure in inspecting his shipping and naval fortifications. While at Winchester, the Roman catholic sovereign and the Protestant bishop had very amicable conversations on the subject of modern miracles, and the bishop bestowed a fervent benediction on the king, for enacting that all the poor negro slaves in the British colonies should receive Christian baptism, in spite of the disgraceful opposition of the planters to this pious edict, which they feared would have the effect of emancipating their unfortunate victims.^ Evelyn, who attended the king on his progress, was certainly very favourably impressed by what he saw of him. He says, “ I observed in this journey that infinite industry, sedulity^ gravity, and great understanding and experience of affairs in his majesty, that I cannot but predict much happiness to the nation as to its political government ; and if he so persist, there could be nothing more desired to accomplish our prosperity, but that he was of the national religion.” The parliament met in November, and was alarmed by the royal pro- 1 Such is the testimony of even Burnet, some instance of liberal feeling and genuine who, strange to say, does not attempt to benevolence in a prince, who is conveiuioa- attach any disqualifying motives to James’s ally held up to reprobation, conduct. It is pleasant to be able to record 2 Evelyn’s Diary. 24 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [ 1635 . position of a standing army, with dispensation from the test to the officers, instead of a militia. Liberal supplies of money the commons were willing to give to a sovereign who had shown himself deserving of full confidence in pecuniary matters, but as they would not encourage his project, he, with a haughty disregard to the financial benefit which he might have obtained by a more judicious policy, prorogued the parlia- ment in anger after a session of only eleven days, and took the fatal resolution of acting independently of the representatives of his people. The return of Catharine Sedley about the same time gave the queen much uneasiness, and unable as she was to control her feelings, the pain she suffered was apparent to the whole court. The demons of party on either side watched the event with eager interest, and according to their own selfish views or bitter prejudices, attached themselves to the cause of the popish queen or the protestant mistress. Lord Kochester encouraged his wife to form an ostentatious alliance with Sedley, under the pretence that it was for the good of the church.^ Sunderland and Petre as ostentatiously espoused the cause of the queen, though both were well aware that she loved them not. When James thought proper to create Sedley countess of Dorchester, the queen took it very grievously, so that when she dined in public, Evelyn, who stood near her on two successive days, says, “ I observed she hardly ate one morsel, nor spoke one word to the king or to any about her, though, at other times, she used to be extremely pleasant, full of discourse and good- humour.” At last, unable to bear her mortification, Mary Beatrice fell sick, and took to her chamber; but remembering that, while she had youth, beauty, a good cause, the king’s conscience, and all his priests on her side, she had no reason to despair, she determined, instead of abandon-’ ing herself to tears and sullen resentment, to make a vigorous effort to rid herself of her rival. Accordingly she summoned a special committee to her aid, and then sent for the king. When James entered his queen’s chamber, he found assembled there her confessor and his own, with several other priests of high repute for sanctity, the members of his council who were of her party, and all the peers of his own religion. The queen told him, “ that she was determined to witness her own degradation and his disregard of the most sacred obligations no longer ; either he must give up his mistress, or she would withdraw’ to a con- vent.” When sobs choked her voice, his majesty was instantly assailed, like the tyrant in a Greek tragedy, by the united remonstrances of the chorus, whom his injured consort had provided to second her appeal. They represented her youth, her beauty, her conjugal devotion, her irreproachable virtue ; and, falling on their knees, conjured him to put an end to a connection injurious to such a consort, and inconsistent with 1 Lingard. Mackintosh. Evelyn. Clarendon Correspondence. 25 i685.] Queen obtains the dismissal of Catharine Scdley, his own religious profession.^ James was taken by surprise. The re- monstrances of his spiritual directors, the tears of the queen, and his fear of losing her, prevailed : he promised to dissolve the disgraceful tie. He sent his commands to the new countess to withdraw from Whitehall, and go abroad ; hut as she owed him neither duty nor respect, she defied him, declared “ that she was a freeborn Englishwoman, and would live where she pleased,” and added, ‘‘ that if he wanted to remove her he must do it by force, and then she would appeal to the laws of the realm for protection she crowned all by calling herself a “protestant victim.” James was compelled to pay the penalty of his guilt and folly by sub- mitting to her vulgar insolence, and bribing her with the present of a large estate in Ireland to withdraw herself from his court for a time. She returned after a few months’ absence ; but the queen, having suc- ceeded in banishing her from the palace of Whitehall, bore her sus- pected wrongs, on all future occasions, in silence. Instead of giving way to tears and passionate upbraiding, she took the more dignified course of appearing unconscious even of her unworthy rival’s exist- ence.2 The profligate young duchess of Norfolk (lady Mary Mordaunt) was one of the vromen for whom king James had the ill taste to neglect his lovely and loving queen. He was extremely anxious to keep this dis- graceful conduct from her knowledge, and for this purpose employed James Craggs, a cunning lackey of the duchess, to manage the intrigue. Graggs secured a considerable sum of money from this affair, and more- over obtained preferment, which raised him from his servile degree, and in time he became an agent of the party which ruined James, and held office in William III.’s cabinet. It was not till the beginning of the year 1686 that the royal act of grace was published for those who had been out in Monmouth’s rebellion : there were many exceptions made, for Sunderland had reaped too rich a harvest in the sale of pardons to relinquish some further gleanings at the expense of his deluded sovereign’s popularity. Twenty young ladies, out of the sixty pretty girls who had gone in procession to meet and welcome Monmouth at his entrance into Taunton, and presented him with colours, a Bible, and a naked sword, were excluded by name from this amnesty, being the daughters of the richest persons in the town. After a good deal of negotiation, in which the names of Sunderland, the proud duke of Somerset, and the philanthropic quaker, William Pen, are strangely mixed up with the queen’s maids of honour, a fine, varying from five pounds to a hundred, was extorted from the parents of each of the girls who had figured in that procession. These unlucky damsels would have acted more consistently with their Christian profession if they had read the Bible quietly at home, instead of parading it for the pur- ^ Burnet. Lingard. Mackintosh. 2 Burnet. Barillon. Lingard. Mackintosh. Reresby. 26 Mary Beatrice of Modeno^ [1685. poses of sedition, with a drawn sword and the ensigns of rebellion. Alas ! that woman’s mission of peace and consolation should ever be so far mistaken. But what can be said of the disgraceful conduct of the maids of honour, if it be true, as we are gravely assured by Mackintosh, that the composition-money, wherewithal the exemption of the Taunton maidens from prosecution was purchased, was received by them ? ^ That the maids of honour acted as intercessors with the queen to obtain her majesty’s gracious mediation in behalf of the poor frightened girls is likely enough, but strong doubts may reasonably be entertained whether a pecuniary reward for such special pleading found its way into the pocket of any one but Sunderland's daughter, lady Anne Spencer, for whose benefit that avaricious and corrupt minister, in all probability, made the arrangement. The sum, about twelve hundred pounds, would not have been worth all the pains he took about it, if his daughter only got the sixth share. There can, however, be no reason to suppose that their majesties had any idea that the intercessions preferred to them by ladies in the royal household were prompted by other feelings than those of compassion. Two of the maids of honour in the service of Mary Beatrice, and much beloved by her, were members of the church of England, and alike distinguished for moral worth and literary attainments. One of these, Anne Kingsmill, published a volume of elegant little poems, in which easy, graceful versification was combined with refinement and good feeling : she was celebrated by Pope under the name of Ardelia, after she became countess of Winchelsea. The other, the accomplished Anne Eilligrew, whom Dry den has immortalized in the well-known elegiac ode, beginning “ Thou youngest virgin daughter of the skies,” was also a poet, and an amateur artist of some reputation in that age. She painted the portraits of James and his queen soon after their accession to the throne, and both are said to have been good and expres- sive likenesses. She died of the smallpox the same year, in the flower of her age, and must have been an irreparable loss to her royal mistress, for she had been long and faithfully attached to her service, and greatly excelled in music, of which Mary Beatrice was passi'^n- ately fond. Dryden, after noticing how successful the fair artist had been in her delineation of king James, thus describes her picture of Mary Beatrice : — “ Our phoenix queen was portrayed, too, so bright, Beauty alone could beauty take so right ; Her dress, her shape, her matchless grace Were all observed, as well as heavenly face. With such a peerless majesty she stands. As in that day she took the crown from sacred hands ; Before a train of heroines was seen. In beauty foremost as in rank, the queen.” 1 Sir James Mackintosh’s Posthumous History of the Revolution. Sunderland’s letters In the State-paper Office. Lingard. 27 1685. ] Boi/ul hunts. This portrait, if in existence, would be a most interesting relic, both of the queen and her maid of honour, the learned, fair, and good Anne Killigrew. Among the chit-chat details of a contemporary, in a letter, April 6, 1686, are the following little notices connected with the court of Mary Beatrice : “ 1 imagine your countess of Dorchester will speedily move hitherward, for her bouse is furnishing very fine for her in St. James’s- square, and a seat taken for her in the new- consecrated St. Anne’s church New equipage, in great splendour, is everywhere to be seen, especially their majesties’. Her majesty is wonderfully glorious, in her own apparel.”^ James at this time, while pursuing with eager infatuation the dangerous and unconstitutional designs which led to his expulsion, recreated himself with hunting two or three times a week, and appeared to take as much interest in the chase as if it were the master- passion of his soul. “His majesty to-day, God bless him!” proceeds our authority, “ underwent the fatigue of a long fox-chase. I saw him and his followers return, as like drowned rats as ever appendixes to royalty did.” ^ On the 3rd of May, James hunted the red deer near Chelmsford, with the duke of Albemarle, prince George of Denmark, and some of the lords of his court. After a long and obstinate chase, which lasted till evening, his majesty was in at the death, between Romford and Brentwood. He got a coach to carry him on to Brentwood, where his own coach was, well pleased that he was in, and the lords thrown out. He went the same night to sup at Newhall. A table was pre- pared for his majesty, and others for the lords and gentlemen ; but the king, acting in better taste, would have his fellow-hunters sup with him, and they sat down in good fellowship.^ The next day he hunted another stag, which lay in Newhall-park, and a famous run they had. The gallant creature leaped the paling, swam the river, ran through Bramp- field, Pleshie, and the Roothings, and was at last killed at Hatfield. No cockney hunter was James; the ditches were broad and deep, the hedges high, and the ways miry ; but, like his ancestors in ballad, legend, and tale, he kept close to the dogs, outrode servants, guards, and courtiers, and was in at the death, most of the lords, and his noble host the duke of Albemarle, being thrown out, to his majesty’s in- finite delight. However, as his horse was spent, his guards distanced, and royalty in some need of a dinner, a special council was held, as soon as some of the foremost riders came up, to know what was best to be done. Lord Dartmouth advised to make for Copthall, the seat of the earl of Dorset, and sent a groom to apprise his lordship that his majesty would take family fare with him that day, it being on his direct road to London. Never did the announcement of a roj^al 1 Ellis’s Correspondence, edited by the hon. George Agar Ellis. 2 * Autobiogi iiphy of Sir John Brumstoii, edited by lord Braybrooke. 28 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [i685> visit arrive at a more unseasonable juncture. The earl was dining out at Rockholts, with a large company of gentlemen. The countess and her mother were going to pay some visits in the neighbourhood, when the messenger met them by the way, stopped the coach, and announced the royal intent. Her ladyship being painfully cognizant of the fact that her cook and butler were gone to Waltham fair, would have excused herself from the inconvenient honour that was designed her in this climax of domestic distress, by saying that her lord and servants were out ; but a second messenger following close on the heels of the first, she turned her coach and drove home, sending back the carriage to meet his majesty. Then, like a woman of spirit and good sense, instead of fretting after absent keys and servants, she, with the help of her maids, broke open locks and doors, and exerted her energies to such excellent purpose, that by the time the king arrived, had washed, and viewed the gardens and house, a very handsome collation was prepared for him. Extremely well pleased with the entertainment, his majesty set forth for London, and on the road met the earl of Dorset returning home from Rockholts. The earl alighted, and coming to the coach-door, bemoaned his ill-fortune that he should not be in the way to receive that great honour, adding many apologies that things were not answerable to his desire. “Make no excuse, my lord,” replied the king ; “all was exceedingly well done, and very handsome.” ^ It is to be lamented that a prince who had so much of the manly spirit of a true-born English king about him, should have forfeited the affections of his subjects by resigning his own better judgment into the hands of an incongruous junta of rash zealots and unprincipled traitors. The embassy to Rome gave offence, being contrary to the law of the land ; the queen name was associated with the unpopularity of the measure in a peculiar manner, as one of the objects was to solicit a cardinal’s hat for her uncle Rinaldo d’Este, which was not obtained with- out great difficulty, and most ungracious demurs on the part of the pope. James II. had little reason to show extra marks of respect to the head of his own church, for he had not a greater political foe than Inno- cent XL, who, as the creature of the emperor, had infinitely more regard for the prince of Orange than for him. To judge of the feelings of that pontiff from his secret correspondence with William, and the contempt with which he treated James’s envoys and requests, one would suppose that monarch’s darling scheme of liberty of conscience and universal tolera- tion was to the full as displeasing to him, as to the English hierarchy and the presbytery of Scotland. The arrival of the papal nuncio, Ferdinand count d’Adda, and the genuflections with which he was received by their majesties, gave infinite 1 Autobiography of Sir John Bramston, edited by lord Braybrooke ; published by the Camden Society 29 1685.] Grand review and banquet on Hounslow-Jieath, offence to protestant England. The pulpits resounded with louder notes of alarm than before. The king took umbrage at certain personalities, and enjoined preachers to confine their exhortations to themes of Christina holiness, or denunciations against sin. The church vindicated its inde- pendence, and James rashly involved himself in an open quarrel with Compton, bishop of London, his old adversary.^ The king and queen came to Windsor earlier than they first intended, in consequence of the unexpected accouchement of the princess Anne, who had left London on the 12th of May in preparation for that event, which was not anticipated so early ; but she was brought to bed, two hours after her arrival at Windsor, of a fine girl. Six weeks afterwards, James invited the queen, the queen-dowager, and his daughter Anne to see a grand review of his troops, horse, foot, and artillery, on Hounslow-heath, and to dine in his pavilion. A gallery was made for the accommodation of the two queens and their ladies to behold the spectacle. All the cannon, twenty-eight in number, were fired. The king led the army till he passed the queens, then dismounted, and the lord Feversham marched before them. After this display, which was the grandest of the kind ever known, his majesty entertained the royal ladies and their noble at- tendants with a sumptuous banquet in his pavilion, and there was great feasting in every tent. James, calculating on the affection of the English for pageants, thought of putting all his subjects in good-humour by spec- tacles of this kind, but assurances had been successfully disseminated among them, that this mighty army of fifteen thousand men, with their twenty-eight pieces of artillery, was intended for the subversion of the Protestant religion. Every military display was therefore beheld with jealousy and alarm. The queen came from Windsor to the camp on Hounslow-heath on the 27th of July, when his majesty, as a piece of gallantry, made his 4,000 horse march, at two in the morning, into Staines meadow, and attend the queen from thence to the heath, where she dined with lord Arran. ^ The celebration of the mass in lord Dum- barton’s tent gave great offence to the public. Mary Beatrice spent the ; summer at Windsor with the king, whom she also accompanied on a little progress towards the west of England. They returned to Whitehall in October, which, in that reign, was the grand court season, both their majesties’ birthdays occurring in that month. Dr. Cartwright was presented to the queen in her bedchamber, on his pre- ferment to the bishopric of Chester. When chaplain to Charles IL, he had performed some good offices for her and her lord, it should seem, of which she retained a grateful recollection ; for when she gave him her hand to kiss, she told him “ that neither she nor the king could ever forget the services he had rendered them before they came to the throne, '^or should he ever want a friend as long as she lived.” On another * Echard. Mackintosh. Lingard. Journal of King * Ellis's Correspondence. 30 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ib85. occasion this prelate says, “ I was at the king’s levee, and as his majesty brought the queen in to dinner, she was graciously pleased to offer me her hand to kiss.”^ James and his queen dined early in the day, and the king went to council in the afternoon. Great improvements were made in the royal apartments at Whitehall ; the queen’s state chamber was rebuilt, and sumptuously furnished and decorated: the embroidery ot her bed cost 3,000Z.^ The prudent economy of the king in the manage- ment of his private income, enabled his consort to indulge her taste, with- out culpability, in matters which afforded employment to her own sex, and encouraged ornamental artificers. The finances of the kingdom were in a flourishing state, so much so, that it was feared that the king would become independent of the nation, from having no need to apply to a parliament for supplies. This prosperity was, however, unsubstan- tial, for the king was at variance with the church, and there was no sympathy between him and his people. On Christmas eve, the new Eoman catholic chapel, which James had built for himself and his queen was opened for the solemnization of the midnight mass. The royal closet was splendidly adorned with painting and gilding, and the thrones on which their majesties sat were, according to Evelyn, “ very glorious but all this pomp was regarded as contrary to the simplicity of the primitive Christian worship, and gave great offence. The beautiful imitations of natural flowers in wax, which have lately afforded an attractive exercise for the taste and ingenuity of many of our youthful countrywomen, were originally introduced into England by the mother of Mary Beatrice as a present to her royal daughter, as we find by the following passage in a contemporary letter® from a correspondent of the lady Margaret Bussell, which gives some information relative to the ornamental works then in vogue among ladies of rank in the court of Mary Beatrice : — “ In gum-flowers, Mrs. Booth tells me ‘ you and she is to doe some- thing in that work,’ which, I suppose, must be extraordinary. I hope it will be as great perfection as the fine wax-work y® queen has of nuns’ work of fruit and flowers, that her mother did put up for her ; and now she has ’em both for her chapel and her rooms. I do not know whether they be the four Seasons of the year ; but they say they are done so well, that they that see ’em can hardly think ’em other than the real.” The queen does not appear to have made any personal attempts at proselytism in her own household. She was beloved by her Protestant ladies, several of whom followed her into exile. Sunderland was one of the few persons who adopted the creed of royalty ; but it was the cloak of his treachery, the serpent-like wile whereby he crept into the bosom 1 Bishop Cartwright’s Diary; published wick-lodge, unpublished ; copied by courteous by the Camden Society. ^ Evelyn. permission of his grace the late duke of De- 3 Cc'llecLion of private family letters at Chis- vonshire. i686.] Refuses to influence the hing to grant places, SI of his unfortunate master, and obtained the power of effecting his ruin. On the New-year’s day, 1687, that noble work of art. Gibbon’s statue of James 11. , in a Homan habit, was placed in the great court of Whitehall, before the new-built chapel. It was a tribute of grateful and loyal affection from an old and faithful domestic, Tobias Rustat,^ who had served the loyal brothers, Charles and James, as page of the backstairs, and devoted a portion of the money he had acquired in their service to this purpose. Honest Toby Rustat was a man of a differently con- stituted mind from some of the more celebrated characters on whom James showered his favours. Many persons attributed the disgrace of the earl of Rochester to the displeasure the queen had conceived at his having brought lady Dor- chester again on the scene, for the purpose of countermining her conjugal influeDce. Yet, when lady Rochester, whom her majesty had once honoured with her friendship, wrote to her in her dying illness express- ing an earnest desire to see her, Mary Beatrice overlooked all the pro- vocations she had given her by her offensive parade of intimacy with king James’s paramour, and came to visit her in her sick chamber, and remained two hours with her.^ “ Lady Rochester,” says Burnet, “ took the opportunity of insinuating the possibility of her lord becoming a convert to the court religion, and that this was the origin of the memor- able controversy for his conversion, which ended in confirming his adherence to the church of England.” When Rochester reluctantly resigned the treasurer’s staff, Sunderland eagerly coveted that lucrative office ; but the king was too careful in the management of his revenue to trust a man with the nation’s purse who could never keep a penny in his own : it would have been well for James if he had been as wary in other matters. He considered the office of lord treasurer too respon- sible for any one person to hold, and put it into commission. Sunder- land flattered himself that he could render the queen instrumental in procuring for him the object of his ambition ; he told her, ‘‘ that father Petre advised him to think of being treasurer, and that her majesty could easily persuade the king to it.” Mary Beatrice understood her duty as a queen-consort of Great Britain too well to give any sign of encouragement in reply ; Sunderland then assured her “ that it was not a plan of his suggestion, for he was very well contented as he was.” Her majesty prudently freed herself from further importunity by affecting to believe this deceitful protestation, and said, “ she was glad he was of that mind, for after the king’s declaration in council, she could not presume to make any attempts to shake his majesty’s resolution.”^ 1 Tobias Rustat had previously had a college, for the orphan sons of the clergy, statue of Charles II. executed by the same ^ Clarendon Correspondence, artist at his expense. His private and public 3 Memoirs of James II. Lingard. I ons- cJiarities were most munificent witness the dale. ^cholai-shipg which he founded at Jesus' 32 Mary Beatrice o f Modena, [ 1 6 8 ( j . Sunderland never forgave his disappointment. Great pains have been taken to impute the impolitic councils which embroiled James with the chui-ch to his consort ; nothing can be more unjust. James himself testifies that they were contrary to the advice of the queen. When Sunderland had obtained the ascendancy in the cabinet, he persuaded the king to the unpopular act of making father Petre a privy councillor ; but as soon as the queen heard what was designed, she earnestly begged the king not to do it, telling him “ that it would give great scandal, not only to the Protestants, but to thinking Catholics, as contrary to their rule.” ^ Sunderland’s influence prevailed, and her majesty was wont to use a homely Italian proverb, signifying that the minister overbore her, and carried the measure in her despite.^ In her conversations with the nuns of Chaillot, Mary Beatrice said “ she never liked Petre ; that his violent counsels did the king much harm, and she believed he was a bad man.” The king paid more than usual personal attention to the queen in the spring of 1687. When he went to visit his camp at Hounslow, he generally brought her from Windsor, or Whitehall, to Eichmond-palace, where he left her, and returned to her in the evening. She was fond of that palace and neighbourhood, and found the soft air beneficial to a hectic cough that sometimes harassed her. When she felt disposed to spend a few days quietly at Richmond, the king arranged his hunting- parties in that neighbourhood, and made that palace his headquarters,^ He was playing a desperate game in ecclesiastical affairs, and had en- gaged himself in a dispute with both the universities by his ill-judged interference in their elections. The particulars of those transactions belong to the public history of James’s reign ; the name of his queen has happily never been mixed up with them. Her majesty’s physicians had unanimously recommended their royal mistress to take a course of the Bath waters this year. It was settled that she should go there early in the season, but her journey was delayed for the pompous public reception of the nuncio d’Adda, after his con- secration in the king’s chapel at Whitehall-palace as archbishop of Amasia. In the evening he appeared, in full pontificalihus, in the queen’s apartment. Both king and queen arose from their thrones, and knelt at his feet to receive his pastoral benediction. James observing tokens of disapprobation in the circle, reminded his court “ that he and her majesty knelt, not to the pope’s nuncio, but to the archbishop.” When the public reception of D’Adda took place at Windsor, the duke of Somerset, who was first lord of the bedchamber, refused to introduce him, telling the king it was against the law. “ Do you not know that I am above the law ?” said the king. “ But I am not,” rejoined the 1 King James’s Loose Sheets, edited by Clarke. Ditto Journal, in Marpherson. * Impartial View of Burnet’s History. 3 Ellis’s Correspondence. ib87.] Friendly letter to the jprince of Orange, 33 duke.^ The ceremony was performed by the duke of Grafton : Somerset lost his place, and the command of his regiment. James had little reason to violate public prejudices and create personal enemies by showing impolitic marks of respect to the papal envoy, whose real business in England was to detach him from the league with Louis XIV. ; or, in case he remained obstinately fixed in that alliance, to assist the confederacy that was plotting to deprive him of his throne.^ This summer the queen was plunged into the deepest affliction by the loss of her mother, the duchess of Modena, who died at Kome, July 19. The duchess was the only parent whom Mary Beatrice had ever known, and the early ties of natural love had been strengthened by renewed intercourse in riper years. They had passed some time together in Brussels, and afterwards in England. A close and endearing corre- spondence had always been kept up between them, and the now childless queen felt the bereavement of her mother as one of the greatest sorrows that had befallen her. A court mourning for the duchess of Modena commenced on the 31st of July, and it was ordered to be for the same duration as that which had been worn in the last reign for the queen of Portugal, the mother of Catharine of Braganza. The political intrigues of Dyckvelt, the Dutch ambassador, had led to an ominous coolness between king James and his son-in-law of Orange ; but the queen had wisely kept up a friendly correspondence with both William and Mary, and instead of sending a ceremonial announcement of her mother’s death, she endeavoured to bespeak William’s sympathy by the natural ex- pression of her grief and confidence in the affection that might be ex- pected between persons so dearly connected by relative ties as they were. Queen Mary Beatrice to the Prince of Orange 3 “ The friendship you have showed me on all occasions, and the part that I have always flattered myself you took in my concerns, make me hope I may have a share of your com- passion in the great grief J now lie under for the death of the duchess of Modena, my mother, in which nothing can comfort me but the hopes I have of her happiness in the other world. Next to this, I find it ease in my affliction to have the pity of one’s friends, which makes me hope for yours at this time ; assuring you that, in what condition soever 1 am, 1 shall always ’be, with all sincerity, “ Truly yours, “ M, K.” This frank letter had the effect, which doubtless the royal writer in- tended, of renewing the suspended intercourse between the courts of Whitehall and the Hague ; but it was in an evil hour for the house of Stuart,^ since an open enemy is at all times less dangerous than a pre- tended friend. The letters and messages of condolence from the prince 1 Mackintosh. Lonsdale. Burnet, &g. * Smith’s History of England, vol. ii. p. 342, James himself admits that he had great cause of complaint against L’Adda’s political conduct. 3 Dalrymple’s Appendix. 4 The prince of Orange sent his messages of condolence by a person who proved one of VOL. V. the most active instruments in the long-pro • jected revolution. This was count Zulestein, an illegitimate brother of his fath(ir, a gay and elegant soldier, who combined, with a person and manners universally popular with the ladies, a degree of long-sighted sagacity and political acumen scarcely inferior to his celebrated ancestors, those men of mighty D 34 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1687. of Orange on her late loss, appear to have given Mary Beatrice great satisfaction, if we may judge by the affectionate tone of her reply : — “ Bath, August 21, 1687. “ I have so many thanks to return to you for the part which M. Zulestein has assured me you take in my just grief for the loss of my mother, and for sending him to assure me of it, that I know not where to begin, nor how to express to you the sense I have of it. 1 hope you are so just to me as to believe it much greater than 1 can make it appear on this paper. 1 have desired this bearer to help me persuade you of this, and to assure you that I do desire above all things the continuance of your friendship, which 1 cannot but think I do deserve a little, by being, with all the sincerity and affection imaginable, “ Truly yours, « M. R.'’ 1 The king, who had accompanied his consort to Bath on the 16th of August, left her there the same day she penned the above letter, and proceeded on his Welsh progress. While at Bath, the queen was under the care of the celebrated Kobert Chapman, an eminent medical practi- tioner, and alderman of that city. His eldest daughter, Mrs. Mary Chapman, had the honour of attending on her majesty during her course of bathing, it being then the custom for the daughters of respect- able citizens to wait on ladies of high rank when they used the waters.^ Eobert Chapman was one of the wealthiest and most learned men in Bath, and was distinguished by king James by many favours, as a reward for the care he took of the queen. He was also eminent for his loyalty and literary attainments, and it is much to be regretted that his manuscript history of his own times, entitled Bath Memoirs, has mys- teriously disappeared,® since his records of his royal patient might have been of great value to her biographer. But every memorial of that much-calumniated princess of a favourable nature was, of course, sedu- lously destroyed after the Eevolution. The agreeable impression made by the consort of James II. during her residence in Bath, rendered that town for nearly a century one of the head-quarters of Jacobitism. The bath used by this queen goes by the name of “ the Cross bath,” in consequence of having been ornamented by the earl of Melfort with a cross of pure white marble, with the sculptured device of the Angel agitating the waters of Bethesda, intended as a memorial of the benefi-- cial effects on her majesty’s constitution which resulted from her course of bathing.^ On the 6th of September, James rejoined his consort at intellect, William the Liberator, William the Silent, and Maurice the Subtle. The letters of that period show that the clever but per- fidious Zulestein plunged daringly into all the plots for the deposition of the royal family, with whom he had come to condole. Strange it was that William of Orange left evidences, not only of the cruel and dis^ting treachery he and his agents used in this case, but in his box of letters, found after his death at Ken- sington, the irrefragable proofs of the kindly intercourse of his betrayed relatives with him and his wife, and at the same time of the intrigues of his agents with the English nobility, are extant in undoubted autographs. 1 Dalrymple’s Appendix. 2 Warner's History of Bath. Ward’s His- tory of Bath. 3 Robert Chapman’s Bath Memoirs were in existence when Ward compiled his work. 4 The cross and inscription commemorative of the birth of the unfortunate prince whom Mary Beatrice bore nine months after her visit to Bath, were removed after the Revolu- tion ; but “ the Cross bath ” retained the name and celebrity it had acquired from that cir- cumstance, and was much used by ladies desirous of becoming mothers. i687.] Pros^pect of the queen becoming a mother, 35 Bath. He found her in great!}" improved health ; she had taken the waters, and used the hot mineral bath with great success as regarded her bodily health. The royal pair received an invitation from the magistrates of Bristol to visit that city, where they were received with the accustomed honours, and had a splendid entertainment provided for them and their retinue at Mr. Lane’s great house. They returned to Bath the same evening.^ It was at this period that James received a solemn warning of the project of his son-in-law, the prince of Orange, to deprive him of his crown, and of his treacherous practices with many of his servants. Louis XIV. having sent an especial envoy, Bonrepaux, to give him intelligence of what was going on, Bonrepaux found James with his (jueen at Bath, and endeavoured to prevail on him to enter into a seci'et treaty with Louis for his own defence ; but nothing could persuade him to believe that William was capable of the conduct alleged, and he de- clared his intention of keeping the treaty of Nimeguen inviolate.^ After passing a few days with Mary Beatrice, James left her at Bath, and proceeded to London for the despatch of business. From thence he went to Windsor, where the queen joined him on the 6th of October, ind they returned to Whitehall together on* the 11th. The king’s birthday was kept with great splendour. As James led his consort into the supper-room, he made her give her hand to be kissed by his favourite prelate, Cartwright bishop of Chester. Their majesties were both invited by the city of London to dine at the lord mayor’s feast at jruildhall : rhe invitation was also extended to the papal nuncio, who :iot only went, but was well received. By the end of November, it began to be whispered about the court, Lat there was a prospect of the queen becoming a mother once more. Excessive excitement was caused by the rumour, the truth of which was angrily impugned by one party, and hailed by the other with ex- travagant joy. The circumstance was too important to be permitted to •emain long in doubt. James mentions the situation of his consort in a riendly letter to his daughter Mary, dated November the 29th, and lotices that the queen had informed her of it previously.® The fact was announced by royal proclamation, and in the Gazette of the 23rd >f December, with an order for a day of general thanksgiving. James ippears to have been determined to obtain the benefit of the prayers of ;he church of England for the fruition of his hopes, at as early a period IS was consistent with propriety. He commanded the bishops to pre- )are a suitable form of prayer and thanksgiving for the occasion, to be 'ead in all the churches in and for ten miles round the metropolis on Sunday, January the 15th, and in every church throughout England on Town-council Records of Bristol. 2 MS. Bibliotheque du Roi, on Bonrepaux’s mission, 1687. 3 inedited letters of James ll. ; Brit. Mus. D 2 36 Mai^y Beatrice of Modena, [ 1687 , the 29th of that month. Nothing was said implying hopes of male issue, as was afterwards pretended, but simply “ that the queen might become a joyful mother of children ; that God would command his holy angels to watch over her, and defend her from all dangers and evil acci- dents ; that the king might behold his children’s children, and peace upon Israel ; and that his gracious consort, queen Mary, might be as a fruitful vine upon the walls of his house, and his children like the olive branches round about his table.” A petition was added, “ that the whole of the royal family might be increased and multiplied ” — a prayer in- tended for the benefit of the three childless heirs-presumptive of the realm, Mary, Anne, and William. Mary had never borne a child, and Anne had been as unfortunate as her royal step-mother in the loss of all her infants. The next persons in the succession were the two daughters of the king’s youngest sister, Henrietta duchess of Orleans, and it was by no means a desirable contingency that the crown should devolve on either of those foreign princesses, the eldest of whom was married to the king of Spain, the youngest to the duke of Savoy. Under these circumstances, the jorospect of the queen bringing a male heir to the crowm might have been regarded as a most auspicious event, had there been any hope of his being educated in the national faith. To the daughters of James II. and their consorts, such a contingency was a matter of painful consideration. They had regarded the crown as their natural inheritance, and they determined not to relinquish the influence they already held in the realm as the heirs presumptive and reversionary. The exultation of the king, and the confident predictions of the Komish party that the royal infant would be a prince, were re- torted by a series of the coarsest and most revolting lampoons, tending to throw injurious doubts on the alleged situation of the queen.i It is stated by one of the contemporary Bath physicians, that the queen had been persuaded to her late visit to Bath by one of the married ladies of her household, who, after several years of unfruitful wedlock, had recently presented her lord with a son and heir, which she attributed to the use of those waters. It would have been well for Mary Beatrice if, when the like result followed her pursuing a similar course, she had allowed it to be assigned to the same cause ; but, unluckily, the duchess of Modena had before her death visited the shrine of Loretto with vows and offerings to the Virgin Mary, praying that through her intercession her majesty of England might have a son. King James, not to be behindhand, had also made a pilgrimage, in the course of his Welsh progress, to the holy well of the British virgin-martyr St. Wini- fred, and swallowed a draught of the miracle-working water, with a prayer for the same object. All the zealous persons of his own religion in the realm had long united in the like petition, but there could be no 1 Journal of James II. Dalrymple. Mackintosh. Ellis Correspondence. Eeresby. i 687 .] of national thanksgiving. 37 reason to regard the accomplishment of this desire as anything marvel- lous, for the queen was still in the prime of life, and had borne several children, one of whom, the princess Isabella, had lived to be five years old. Yet, when there was cause to believe that her majesty was likely to become the mother of a fifth child, a most absurd stress was laid on the coincidence of that circumstance with the Loretto and Winifred- well pilgrimages. It might be imagined, that the want of judgment of the royal pair, in attributing the present prospect of an heir to the miraculous intercessions of their favourite saints, had provoked the. incredulous to a suspicion that some imposition was meditated, if the stories that were now circulated by their enemies had not been a mere revival of the malicious libels that were invented some years before, for the purpose of stigmatizing the birth of the last child of Mary Beatrice in the event of its proving a son.^ The announcement of the queen’s situation was greeted with a burst of national joy in Scotland, where it was fondly hoped that the line of their ancient monarchs might be continued by the birth of a prince. The day appointed for the thanksgiving was kept as a general holiday, attended with ringing of bells and bonfires. The ever-loyal episcopalian party expressed peculiar pleasure ; and Dr. Paterson, archbishop of Glasgow, in his sermon on the occasion, went so far as to say, “ that her majesty had obtained this blessing from Heaven for her piety, being oft-times six hours on her knees at prayers.” — “ A great lie,” observes Sir John Lauder, of Fountainhall, by whom this foolish assertion is indignantly recorded in his diary, “she being too much taken up with court affairs to have so long time for private devotions.” ^ The situation of the queen encouraged James to pursue his plans with redoubled energy for the abrogation of the penal laws. Of the cruelty and injustice of those statutes, no one who reads the civil and ecclesias- tical annals of the three kingdoms can pretend to doubt. James, who, to use his own words, “had learned the great lesson of religious tolera- tion in the school of persecution,” was ambitious of being the first British monarch who should proclaim to his people the precious boon of liberty of conscience — a boon more glorious than all the boasted privi- Jeges which were wrung from the tyrant John by the steel-clad cham- pions of freedom at Runnymede. In the preceding spring, James had declared in council “ that four of his predecessors having attempted in vain to establish a general conformity of worship, the penal laws against dissenters having only led to rebellions and bloodshed, he was convinced that nothing could conduce more to the peace and quiet of the kingdom and the increase of trade, than an entire liberty of conscience; it having,” he said, “always been his opinion, as most suitable to the principles of Christianity, that no man should be persecuted for con- 1 Echard. 2 Historic Observes. 38 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1687. science’ sake, which he thought was not to he forced, and that it never could be to the interest of a king of England to do it.” ^ He then directed his attorney and solicitor-general not to suffer any process in his name to be issued against any dissenter whatsoever. In this proffered charter of religious freedom, the last of the Stuart kings anticipated the enlight- ened policy which has gradually, but very cautiously, actuated British sovereigns and statesmen of the nineteenth century. Unfortunately for James II., the course of Christian civilization was not sufficiently advanced in that day to admit of a legislative act of Christian charity. The king forgot that he was a mere feather on the stream working against the strong tide of popular opinion, and in a fatal hour attempted to carry a noble object by unconstitutional means. The declaration of liberty of conscience was not so gratefully accepted in Scotland a** the sufferings of the presbyterian party had led the king to imagine it would be. They were offended with being included in the same act which proclaimed freedom of worship to papists, anabaptists, and quakers. The confidential intimacy that subsisted between the king and William Pen, the philanthropic quaker, was regarded with scarcely less hostility than the influence of father Petre and the Jesuits. It was, after all, James’s greatest glory that his name should have been associated with that of the benignant founder of the Utopia of the new world, Penn- sylvania. That the royal admiral, with his passion for naval glory, stately ideas of “the divinity that hedges in a king,” and all the hot zeal of a convert to Komamsm about him, could enter with sympathy and delight into the enlightened views of that pure-minded Christian philosopher, William Pen, is an interesting fact, and not less strange than true. James once condescended to use a playful reproof to the peculiarity of the quaker, who, the first time he entered his presence after he became king, did so with his hat on. James immediately took off his own. “ Friend James,” said Pen, “ why dost thou uncover thy head?” — “Because,” replied his majesty, with a smile, “it is the fashion here for only one man to wear his hat.” Pen was sent by James on a private mission to the Hague, for the purpose of persuading the prince of Orange to consent to the abolition of the penal laws. The eloquence of the man of peace and Christian philanthropy, who anticipated the fulfilment of the prophecy relating to the millenary reign of Christ in the establishment of perfect fellowship and brotherly love among all who confessed His name on earth, sounded less pleasantly to the military stadtholder than the inflammatory language of Burnet and other priestly agitators, who taught him how to make a political creed the master-key to the kingdoms of this world. William refused to concur in the removal of any statute that was not formally repealed by parliament. James further committed himself by an indirect application, through 1 James ll.’s speech in council ; Life, vol. iL i687.] Queen goes on prosperously, 39 Stuart, a Scotch refugee at the Hague, to William’s minister, Fagel, for the purpose of winning his daughter Maiy to second his wishes. He not only got a dry refusal from the princess, but the mortification of seeing their correspondence published by William.^ Mary Beatrice, who rarely took any part in politics, had vainly repre- sented to her consort the folly of his proceeding, which arose from a miscalculation of his paternal influence.^ “ The queen,” says father Petre, “ as well as myself, was of opinion against the sending any such letter to the Hague upon this subject, but rather some person able to discourse and to persuade should have been sent thither ; for all such letters, when they are not grateful, produce bad effects. That which is spoken face to face is not so easily divulged, nor anything discovered to the vulgar but what we have a mind the people should know.”® After some allusions to the queen’s situation and the ribald lampoons that were in circulation, one of which had been found affixed to a pillar of a church, the Jesuit statesman adds, “ you will agree with me, most reverend father, that we have done a great thing by introducing Mrs. Collier to the queen. This woman is wholly devoted to our society, and zealous for the Catholic religion.” This Mrs. Collier, from whom such great things were expected, is rather a mysterious personage ; her name has never been mentioned in connection with any of the complicated intrigues of the period, neither does it occur in the list of the queen’s attendants, or the nursery establishment of the prince. Probably her majesty had sufficient penetration to discover that Mrs. Collier was a dangerous intriguante, and got rid of her. The situation of her majesty is mentioned in a friendly manner by the widow of lord William Kussell, in one of her confidential letters, dated February 10, with this remark : “ The queen goes on prosperously.” ^ Mary Beatrice was now so happy in the undivided possession of the king’s affections, that she was willing to forgive those who had endea- voured to injure her by encouraging him in his guilty attentions to her rival, and raising a party in favour of that bad woman. Convinced that she had no longer cause to dread either her or her friends, her majesty took the first opportunity of showing the earl of Clarendon that she was not only willing to overlook all past causes of displeasure, but ready to render him any service in her power. “ In the afternoon, March 8,” he says, “ I waited on the queen, upon an intimation given that she wondered she had not seen me a great while, for I had not been with her for some months. Her majesty was very gracious to me, and asked me, ‘ Why I did not come more to court ?’ I told her, ‘ I did sometimes 1 Echard. Lingard. Mackintosh. Dal- whom the document was kindly communl- rymple. cated to me. 2 Inedited letter of father Petre to pere la 3 Ibid. Chaise, purchased at the sale of the Straw- 4 Letters of lady Russell, from the Woburn berry-hill collection by the lute lady Petre, by collection. •10 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ibey. wait on the king at his levee ; but having nothing to do at court, I thought it not needful to he as often there as I had been formerly.’ She said, ‘ I was to blame ; that she knew the king would be kind to me, and that she would often put him in mind of me ; and said that she expected to see me often.’ She then asked me ‘ if my pension were well paid I told her ‘ yes.’ The king came into the room from hunting, and so I came away.” ^ The secret correspondence of James’s treacherous favourites, bis discarded ministers and disaffected nobles, with the court of Orange, unveils to the dispassionate documentary historian an exten- sive confederacy, with the princess Anne at the head of it ; for the pur- pose of branding the child, whose birth was so eagerly anticipated by the king and queen, as spurious in case it should prove a boy. It was from this confederacy that all the disgusting lampoons and incendiary pamphlets on that subject emanated. As early as the spring of 1686 the princess Anne had betrayed to the acute observation of the French envoy, Bonrepaux, that ambition and hatred to the queen were the master-passions of her soul.^ In what manner had Mary Beatrice pro- voked her ill-will.? the reader naturally inquires. Anne has never brought a specific charge against her royal step-mother, with whom she had lived in perfect amity from her tenth year up to the period of king James’s accession to the ’throne. The following passage from one of Anne’s private confidential letters to her sister Mary, is rather indicative of the evil passions of the writer, than the bad qualities of the object of her vituperation : “ The queen, you must know, is of a very proud and haughty temper, and though she pretends to hate all form and ceremony, yet one sees that those who make their court that way are very well thought of. She declares always that she loves sincerity and hates flattery ; but when the grossest flattery in the world is said to her face, she seems extremely well pleased with it. It really is enough to turn one’s stomach to hear what things are said to her of that kind, and to see bow mightily she is satisfied with it.” ® Some women there are whose minds are unfortunately so constituted, that they cannot endure to see attention offered to another. The adulation and homage paid to her beautiful step-mother, who was about five years older than herself, appears to have been the exciting cause of Anne’s ill- will against her — so true is the observation of the wisest of men, “ Anger is fierce, and jealousy is cruel; but who can stand against envy?” That no want of courtesy, or even of affection, had been manifested by the consort of James II. towards his daughter, may be perceived by Anne’s concluding remark : “ She [the queen] pretends to have a deal of kindness for me ; but I doubt it is not real, for I never see any proofs of it, but rather the contrary.” * Surely, if the queen had ever com- 1 Diaiy of Henry Earl of Clarendon. Claren- » Letter from Bonrepaux to SeignelaL don Correspondence, vol.iii. ; edited by Singor a Dalrymple’s Appendix. Ibid. i68S.] Intrigues against the queen, 4.1 mitted herself by word or deed, so as to furnish any tenable charge of complaint, Anne would have instanced it in support of her last assertion. The hatred of the princess Anne towards Mary Beatrice was of too deadly a nature to evaporate in useless invectives. She took infinite pains to persuade her sister, the princess of Orange, that a plot was in progress to deprive them of their rights in the succesion, by the im- position of a spurious prince of Wales on the nation. She complained, in the coarsest language, to her sister and the earl of Clarendon, “ that the queen would not permit her to touch her, and that her majesty always went into another room to change her dress.” ^ Anne, all this while, kept up a show of duty to her father and kindness to the queen ; she was frequently at her majesty’s toilet, and performed the service as usual, which the etiquette of those times prescribed, of assisting to put on her majesty’s chemise.^ The queen was taken alarmingly ill at the end of seven months, while the king was gone to Chatham, and her apprehensions of death were so great, that she wrote to the king to come immediately to her, and also sent for her confessor. “ Everybody flocking about her, the princess failed not to be there too, and appeared so easy and kind, that nothing could equal it ; talked of the queen’s condition with mighty concern, and was wanting in no manner of respect and care.” ® The indisposition of his consort, who had now become an object of the tenderest regard and most watchful solicitude to the king, is thus mentioned by that monarch, in the following friendly letter to his son-in-law of Orange ; — “ Whitehall, May 11, 1688. “ My going to Chatham on Tuesday last hindered me from writing to you by this day’s post, to let you know I had received yours of the 11th. I found my ships and stores in very good condition, and chose one of my new three [third] rates to be fitted out, to carry the queen- dowager when she goes to Portugal. I came back hither yesterday morning, and found that my queen had not been well, and was in some fears of coming before her time ; but, God be thanked, she was very well all day yesterday, and continues so now, so that I hope she will go out her full time. The weather is now very seasonable, and there is like to be a great store of fruit this year. I have no more to say, hut that you shall find me as kind to you as you can exjpect. For my son, the prince of Orange.” “ James, K. A week latter, the queen herself wrote this little billet to William, in the same easy familiar style which marks her occasional correspond- ence with him : — “May 19, 1688. “I am so ashamed to have been so long without answering your ^ See her letters in Daliymple’s Appendix, private papers, by the Rev. S. Clarke, historio ijfe of Janies, compiled from his own grupher to George IV. 3 ibid. 4:2 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ibss. obliging letter, that I know not what to say for myself. I well believe you know me too well to suspect it want of kindness, and therefore I hope you will think it, as it was, want of time, or at the worst a little laziness, which being confessed, will, I hope, be excused ; for else I did long to return you a thousand thanks, as 1 do now, for your kind wishes, which. I hope you will continue, and believe that I am, with all sincerity, “ Truly yours, “ M. R.” During the whole of the month of May, the queen’s health was in a precarious state ; she was bled, in consequence of feverish symptoms, as late as the 29th. Some anxiety must have been on her spirit, in con- sequence of the cruel reports that were poisoning the public mind against her at that period, when she was looking forward with trembling hope and natural dread to the hour of woman’s peril. Mary Beatrice has been accused of unbecoming haughtiness, in treating the injurious rumours that were in circulation with silent contempt. As a delicate woman she could do no otherwise ; as a queen she appears to have acted with great prudence, and to have done everything necessary to convince the great ladies of the court and the princess Anne of the reality of her alleged situation. It was her original intention to lie-in at Windsor, but she made a very proper concession to public opinion when she gave up that arrangement, and determined to await her accouchement in the metro- polis, where the witnesses requisite for the verification of the birth of the royal infant might be got together on a hasty summons, which could scarcely be the case at Windsor, or even Hampton-court. Her enemies have, with a strange obliquity of reasoning, construed this convincing proof of her willingness to afford full satisfaction to every one interested, into a presumption of her guilt. Her change of purpose was not so sudden as those who tried to make out a story against Mary Beatrice pretend. In a letter, dated as early as April 6, lady Russell, the widow of lord William Russell, says, “ They speak as if the queen going to Windsor began to be doubtful.” ^ “ The great bustle,” says the princess Anne, “that was made about her lying-in at Windsor, and then resolving all of a sudden to go to St James’s, which is much the properest place to act such a cheat in.”^ Can any one believe, that if Anne did suspect a cheat, she would have shown so little regard to her own interest as to have invented a pretext for going to Bath, instead of remaining on the spot to expose it? But the queen had given her indubitable proofs that she was about to become a mother, and Ann# purposely went out of the way that she might not be a witness of the birth of a brother, whose rights she intended to dispute ; whilst in case the expected infant proved a girl, she would escape a disagreeable duty * Letters of lady Russell, from the Wobum ^ gge Anne’s letters in Dalrymple’s Ap* collection, p 177. Ibid., p. 147. pendix, and the originals in Brit. Mus. i688.] Resolves to lie-in at St, James' s-palace, 43 by her absence. Anne came to take leave of the queen before she went to Bath, and they conversed together in a friendly and confidential manner. The queen always expressed herself as doubtful, whether her con- finement would take place in June or July. The princess Anne said to her, “ Madam, I think you will be brought to bed before I return,” ^ giving, at the same time, a reason for her opinion, of which she was afterwards pointedly reminded by Mrs. Margaret Dawson, when she expressed a doubt whether the young prince were actually her brother. On the 2nd of June, the queen said “ she would go to St. James’s, and await the good hour.”^ It was there that all her other children had been born, and it was also the birthplace of the king her husband. The consorts of the Stuart kings had been accustomed to lie-in at that palace ; and there was no precedent of any queen having been confined at White- hall, which was obviously unfit for such a purpose, being very noisy, and open from morning till night to crowds of well-dressed people, who chose to make it a lounge. It was, besides, a great public office, where all the business of the nation was transacted, and the queen’s apart- ments fronted the river. Mary Beatrice never liked Whitehall. She said of it, “ Whitehall was one of the largest and most uncomfortable houses in the world.” Her heart always clung to her first English home, which had been endeared to her by those tender recollections that regal pomp had never been able to efface. King James, in a letter to his daughter Mary, thus announces the intended removal of himself and his queen to St. James’s-palace : — “ Whitehall, June 8, 1688. “ The Q. and I intended to lie at St. James’s to-morrow night, she intending to lie-in there.^’ * CHAPTER V. The birth of the second son of Mary Beatrice was destined to take place at the inauspicious period, when James had given irreparable offence to the nation by committing the archbishop of Canterbury and six bishops to the Tower.'^ This unprecedented act of folly was perpetrated on the 1 King James’s Journal. the evening of May 18. James received them 2 Burnet. graciously at first, but took fire, very un- 3 Extracts from James II.’s letters. — Addi- reasonably, at the language in which the tional MSS., Brit. Mus. petition was couched, lost his temper, called * The offence of the bishops was, having it “a standard of rebellion,” and dismissed framed a petition to the king, praying to be the prelates in displ(*asure. In less tha*n two excused from reading the declaration of hours after the petition had been put into the liberty of conscience. This petition they king’s hands it was printed, and cried about presented to his majesty at ten o’clock on the streets, with great vociferations, for sale. 44 Mary Beatrice of U^odena, [1688. 8tli of June ; the indignation it excited pervaded all ranks of the people, and extended even within the guarded region of the court. The queen was restless and anxious all the next day, and expressed an impatient desire for the completion of the arrangements that were making for her accommodation in St. James’s-palace. She sent several times, in the course of that day, to hurry the workmen there, and, on being told that it would he impossible for them to finish in time to put her bed up that night, she gave way to petulance, and said, “ I mean to lie in St. James’s to night, if I lie on the boards.” Kings and queens are, of course, liable to the same infirmities of temper as their subjects, but it behoves them to impose a stricter restraint on their natural emotions, surrounded as they are, at all times, by watchful observers, if not, as was the case with James IT. and his consort, by invidious spies and traitors. It was by no means wonder- ful, however, that Mary Beatrice, under these circumstances, should be desirous of escaping from the political excitement and publicity of Whitehall to her old familiar palace, where she had formerly tasted some of the comforts and repose of domestic life. It was not till a late hour on the Saturday night that the arrangements there were completed. When this was announced to her majesty, she was engaged at cards. The solemn etiquettes, which in that age pervaded the most frivolous amusements of the court, forbade her to break up the table till the game was decided, which was not till eleven o’clock. After this, she was carried in her sedan chair, attended by her servants and preceded by her ladies, through the park to St. James’s-palace, her chamberlain, lord Grodolphin, walking by the side of her chair. The king accom- panied his consort, and passed the night in her apartment. The next morning he rose between seven and eight, and went to his own side of the palace.^ About a quarter of an hour after, the queen sent for him in great haste, and requested to have every one summoned whom he wished to be witnesses of the birth of their child. It was Trinity- James regarded this proceeding as an out- rage. The prelates denied having supplied any one with a copy. James did not believe them, and insisted that their intention was to raise a tumult. They were summoned to appear before the priv-y council, and, after some angry discussion, ordered to find bail for their appearance in Westminster-hall, July 3, to answer to an indictment from the crown for writing and publishing a seditious libel. They refused to find bail, and were committed to the Tower. The warrant for their committal was signed by four-and- twenty privy councillors, all Protestants. Bancroft, archbishop of Canterbury, and Ken, bishop of Bath and Wells, were the most conscientious and loyal of men. They, with White, Turner, and Lake, submitted to the i?s& of their sees, and all their rich revenues. rather than take the oaths to any other sove- reign than James II., to whom their allegi- ance had been sworn. The other two, Lloyd of St. Asaph, and Trelawney of Bristol, w ere deeply confederate with William. Lloyd was the author of some of the base libels tending to discredit the pregnancy of the queen. The copy of the petition was pro- bably furnished by him, on purpose to create an open quarrel with the king. It was after- wards wittily said, with regard to the cha- racter and subsequent conduct of these reve- rend prelates, “ that king James sent seven bishops to the Tower to be tested; five of them proved to be true gold, and tw’o only pHnce’s metal.” 1 Kennet. Kchard. Impartial Reflections on Burnet’s History. 45 ib88.] Ladies summoned to the queen. Sunday, June 10. “ The Protestant ladies that belonged to the court,” says Burnet, “ were all gone to church before the news was let go abroad*” which was certainly true ; but this unfaithful chronicler sup- presses the fact, that they were all speedily sent for out of church by her majesty’s command.^ The first person who obeyed the summons was Mrs. Margaret Dawson, one of her bedchamber women, formerly in the household of Anne Hyde, duchess of York ; she had been present at the births of all the king’s children, including the princess Anne of Denmark. She found the queen all alone, sitting on a tabouret at her bed’s head, trembling, and in some depression of spirits.^ The queen requested that the pallet in the next room might be made ready, but the quilts not being aired, Mrs. Dawson persuaded her not to use it, but to go into her own bed again, from which she and the king had just risen. That bed was then made ready for her majesty, who was very chilly, and wished it to be warmed. Accordingly, a warming-pan full of hot coals was brought into the chamber, with which the bed was warmed previously to the queen’s entering it.® From this circumstance, simple as it was, but unusual, the absurd tale was fabricated that a spurious child was introduced into the queen’s bed. Mrs. Dawson after- wards deposed, on oath, that she saw the fire in the warming-pan when it was brought into her majesty’s chamber, the time being then about eight o’clock,” ^ and the birth of the prince did not take place until ten. Anne countess of Sunderland, the wife of James’s treacherous minister, therefore no very favourable witness, stated, in her evidence before the privy council, that “ she went to St. James’s chapel at eight o’clock in the morning on Trinity-S unday, with the intention of taking the sacrament ; but in the beginning of the communion service, the man who had the care of the chapel came to her, and told her ‘ she must come to the queen.’ The countess said ‘ she would, as soon as the prayers were over ; ’ but very soon after, another messenger came up to the rails of the altar, and informed her what was the case, and enjoined her to come to her majesty ‘ without delay ;’ on which she went directly to the chamber of her royal mistress. As soon as the queen saw her, she told her that ‘ she believed her hour was come.’ By this time,” con- tinues lady Sunderland, “ the bed was warmed, and the queen went into bed.” ® Here, then, is a most important testimony in confirmation as to the time when the said warming-pan was used, which was before the queen entered the bed at all. After her majesty was in bed, the king came in, and she asked him “ if he had sent for the queen- dowager? ” He replied, ‘‘ I have sent for everybody,” and so, indeed, it seemed ; for besides the queen-dowager and her ladies, and the ladies of ' Examinations before the Privy Council, Oct. 22, 1688. ^ 3 ibid, ^ Ibid. * Depositions before the Privy Council. 46 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1688. the queen’s household, the state officers of the palace, several of the royal physicians, and the usual professional attendants, there were eighteen members of the privy council, who stood at the foot of the bed. There were in all sixty-seven persons present.^ Even the princess Anne, in her coarse, cruel letters to her sister on this subject, acknow- ledges that the queen was much distressed by the presence of so many men, especially by that of the lord chancellor Jeffreys.^ The queen, at the birth of her last child, had entreated that no one should proclaim whether it were boy or girl, “ lest the pleasure on the one hand, or tlie disappointment on the other, should overpower her,” and this com- mand was repeated now. About ten o’clock her majesty gave birth to a son, and forgetting every other feeling in the tender instinct of mater- nity, exclaimed apprehensively, “ I don’t hear the child cry.” The next moment the prince certified his existence, by making his voice heard in good earnest. Lady Sunderland had previously engaged the midwife to give her in- timation if it were a boy, by pulling her dress ; and she signified the same to the king by touching her forehead, which they had both agreed should be the token. Not satisfied with this telegraphic intelligence, the king eagerly cried out, “ What is it ? ” — “ What your majesty desires,” replied the nurse. She was about to carry the infant into the inner room, when the king stopped her, and said to the gentlemen of the privy council, “ You are witnesses that a child is born,” and bade them follow, and see what it was. So crowded was the queen’s bedroom, that the earl of Feversham had some trouble in forcing a passage through the noble mob of witnesses, as he preceded Mrs. de Labadie and her in- fant charge, crying, “ Koom for the prince ! ” The royal infant was seen by three of the Protestant ladies near her majesty’s bed before he was carried into the inner chamber.® After king James had spoken a few tender words to his consort, he said, “ Pray, my lords, come and see the child.” The witnesses then followed the king into the inner room, where the royal infant was shown, and all present saw it was a prince, and newly born. Lady Bel- lasyse said “ she thought it looked black in the face.” A convulsion fit, such as had proved fatal to the other children of Mary Beatrice, was at first apprehended ; but after the prince was dressed, he looked very fresh 1 Lord Melfort’s Reflections on the State of told “ that she was as sure the prince of England, in Macpherson. Wales was the queen’s son, as that any of her 2 Letter of the princess Anne to her sister own children were hers. Out of zeal for the the princess of Orange ; Dalrymple’s Appen- truth and honour of my mistress,” said she, dix, vol, ii. p. 308. “ I spake in such terms as modesty would 3 I.ady Isabella Wentworth, also a noble scarce let me speak at another time,” — Depo- Protestant lady in the queen’s household, sitions before the Privy Council, Oct. 22, verified the birth of the prince, not only be- 1688. Notes to the new Burnet, vol. iii., fore the privy council on oath, but long after quoted by the editor from the original docu- the Revolution, to Dr. Hickes, dean of Wor- ment signed by lady Jsabrlla and Dr. Hickes, cester, in the presence of Mrs. Margaret Daw- in Magdalen colkge, Oxiord. eon, and even to Burnet himself, whom she 47 1 688 .] Birth of a prince. and well, and the king said “ nothing was the matter with the child.” i In the overflowing transport of his joy for the birth of a living son, and the safety of his queen, James bestowed the accolade of knighthood oa her physician, doctor Walgrave, by her bedside,^ as a token of his grateful sense of the care and skill manifested by him during the pre- ceding months of anxious attendance upon her majesty, whose symp- toms had occasionally been of an alarming character. The birth of a prince of Wales was announced to the metropolis, with signal marks of triumph, by the king’s command. The Tower guns fired an extraor- dinary number of salutes, the bells rang peals of deceitful joy, the poor were feasted and received alms, and all loyal lieges throughout the realm were enjoined to unite in thanksgivings and festivity. By the imprisonment of the archbishop of Canterbury, the virtuous conscien- tious Bancroft, the king had deprived himself of a witness of the birth of the prince, whose testimony no member of the Church of England could have resisted. Barillon, the French ambassador, announced the birth of the royal in- fant to Louis XIY. in these words -* “ The queen of England has given birth, an hour since, to a prince, who is doing very well : he is very well formed, and of the full size.”^ The joy of the king was unbounded. James’s brother-in-law, the earl of Clarendon, gives the following lively Little account of this event, in his diary of June 10 : “ In the morning I was at St. James’s church, where I observed great whispering, but could not learn what the matter was. As I was going home, my page told me the queen was brought to bed of a son. I went presently to St. James’s, whither the court removed but the last night, and word was brought me it was true her majesty was delivered about ten this morn- ing. As soon as I had dined, I went to court, and found the king shaving. I kissed his hand and wished him joy. He said the queen was so quick in her labour, and he had had so much company, that he had not time to dress himself till now. He bade me go and see the prince. I went into the room, which had been formerly the duchess’s private bedchamber, and there my lady Powis (who was made governess) showed me the prince. He was asleep in his cradle, and a very fine child to look upon.”* On the same day the marchioness of Powis was sworn as state governess, and lady Strickland, wife of Sir Thomas Strickland of Sizergh, as sub-governess, to the new-born heir of Eng- land. There were also two nurses, madame de Labadie and Mrs. Royere, four rockers, a laundress and sempstress, and two pages of the backstairs, who were all sworn into their offices. The same night the numerous nursery establishment, and indeed the whole palace, were thrown into a state of dismay by the alarming • Depositions before the Privy Council. 2 Echard * Despatches of Barillon. * Clarendon's l^iary. 48 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1688. illness of tlie precious babe. The royal physicians were summoned in great haste to his assistance, and the king was called out of his bed at three o’clock in the morning. Mary Beatrice has herself related the fol- lowing particulars connected with the indisposition of the little prince, and the strange negligence of her own j^ersonal attendants at that time : — “ A few hours after the birth of my son,” said she “ the physicians prescribed something for him, which they say is good for babies.^ I don’t remember now what it was : but this I know, that, by mistake or carelessness, they repeated the dose, which made him so ill, that every one thought he was dying. As I was in child-bed, the king would not have me awakened with these tidings ; but while everyone was in a state of distraction, he retired into his oratory to offer that child, who was so precious to him, to God. I awoke in the meantime, and asked for some broth, but saw no one near me, neither nurse nor attendant. I then called. The only person who remained to take care of me was a chambermaid, not more than one-and-twenty years old, and thus I learned that which they wished to conceal from me. The countess of Sunderland was lady of the bed thlat night, and it was her duty to have watched beside me.” ^ Though the indisposition of the royal infant had only been caused by his being over-dosed with drugs which he would have been much better without, the doctors inflicted the additional suffering upon him of making an issue in his tender little shoulder, ^ and giving him more physic, while they withheld Irom him the natural aliment for which he pined. One of the household, when communicating Uj his friend in Ire- land the news of the birth of a prince of Wales, says, “ It is a brave lusty boy, and like to live ^ and live he did, in spite of all the blunders of his nurses, the barbarities of his doctors, and the malice of those who pretended that he died at the time this great nocturnal disturbance was raised in St. James’s-palace on his account, and that another child had been substituted to personate the veritable son of the king and queen On this new story, those persons chose to rest who were ashamed of re- peating the clumsy romance of the warming-pan, and pretending to believe that an imposition could be practised in the presence of six medical gentkmen, three-and-twenty Protestant ladies and gentlemen of high rank, besides menial attendants, or that the queen-dowager and all the Catholic nobility would become accomplices in such a cheat. Dr. Hugh Chamberlayne, the celebrated whig practitioner, whom Burnet daringly quotes in support of his own inventions, when he heard that his name had been mentioned, as connected with those fictions, by the 1 Inedited Memorials of Mary of !Modena, edited by lord Braybrooke ; published by the by a sister of Chaillot, in the hotel de Soubise, Camden Society. Paris. * l!^liis Correspondence, edited by the hoa 2 ibid. Agar Kllis. 3 Autobiography of Sir John Bramston, 5 Burnet’s History of his Own Time. 49 i688.] Libels on the birth of the prince, LiUtheran minister at the Hague, in a conversation with the electress ISophia of Hanover, wrote a manly, honest letter to that princess, assur- ing her, “ that the minister must have been misled by pamphlets cur- rent in England, pretending,” says he, “ an account how far I had been therein engaged, to which several falsehoods were added. One of those papers was written by Mr. Burnet, son to the bishop of Salisbury.” Burnet himself wrote and printed at the Hague some of the coarse, inde- licate libels that were so industriously circulated against the poor queen on this occasion.^ He subsequently embodied the substance of thocv lampoons in his history — a remarkably easy method of obtaining a mass of fictitious evidence. Dr. Chamberlayne expressly states that he was sent for early on the Sunday morning by the queen, but, being out of town, did not arrive till after the birth of the babe. He declares that the duchess of Monmouth had given him positive testimony of the reality of her majesty’s alleged situation a few days before, she having been present at her toilet — “ This relation,” says he, “ being wholly occasioned by chance, and mentioned by one at that time disobliged by the court, I take to be genuine, without artifice or disguise, so that I never questioned it. Another circumstance in this case is, that my being a noted whig, and signally oppressed by king James, they would never have hazarded such a secret as a supposititious child, which, had I been at home to follow the summons, I must have come time enough to have dis- covered.” He says, “ king James told him the queen came a fortnight sooner than she expected and this, it will be remembered, was the case when her last child, the princess Charlotte, was born. It was, more- over, scarcely two years since the princess Anne herself had made a similar miscalculation, and was brought to bed of a fine girl only two hours after her arrival at Windsor, having travelled from London the same day. “ During my attendance on the child by his majesty’s directions,” continues Dr. Chamberlayne, “ I had frequent discourse with the necessary-woman, who, being in mighty dread of popery, and con- fiding in my reputed whiggism, would often complain of the busy pragmaticalness of the Jesuits, who placed and displaced whom they pleased ; ‘ and for her part, she expected a speedy remove, for the Jesuits could endure none but their own party.’ Such was our com- mon entertainment ; but, about a fortnight after the child was born, a rumour having spread through the city that the child was spurious, she cried, ‘ Alas ! will they not let the poor infant alone ? I am certain no such thing as the bringing a strange child in a warming-pan could be practised without my seeing it, attending constantly in and about the i See Burnet’s Six Stories, commented upon by Smollett, in his History of Er gland ; James II. ^ Dalrymple’s Appendix, vol. ii. pp. 311-13. VoL. V. E 50 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1688. avenues of the chamber/ Other remoter incidents might he alleged which, being of smaller moment, are forborne.” ^ Mary Beatrice, regardless of all the injurious libels that emanated from the Dutch press, had continued to keep up a friendly correspond- ence with the prince and princess of Orange,^ in which she frankly con- fided to the princess, from time to time, all particulars relating to her situation, up to the period of her confinement. King James communi- cated the important event of the birth of the prince, by whom his eldest daughter was apparently superseded in the succession, to her con- sort, in the following business-like note : — King James to the Prince of Orange. “ June 12, 1688. “ The queen was, God be thanked, safely delivered of a son on Sun- day morning, a little before ten. She has been very well ever since, but the child was somewhat ill, this last night, of the wind ; but is now, blessed be God, very well again, and like to have no returns of it, and is a very strong boy. Last night I received yours of the 18th. T expect every day to hear what the French fieet has done at Algiers. 'Tis late, and I have not time to say more, but that you shall find me to be as kind to you as you can expect. “ For my son, the Prince of Orange.” ^ Four days after, James wrote to his daughter Mary, the following brief bulletin of the health of the queen and prince of Wales : — “ St. James’s, June 16, 1688. “ The queen was somewhat feverish this afternoon. My son is, God be thanked, very well, and feeds heartily and thrives very well.” ^ In Edinburgh the news of the queen’s happy delivery, and the birth of “ the prince Stuart of Scotland,” as they proudly styled « The young blooming flower of the auld royal tree/' was received with unfeigned joy. The civic council records testify of the bonfires that blazed from the Canongate to Arthur’s-seat, to make known the joyful tidings that a male heir was born to “ the ancient realm.” Claret was quaffed at the expense of the crown, and glasses broken by • The illustrious lady to whom the honest impugning the birth of the rejected claimant doctor addressed this letter was an interested of the crown, that she was accustomed to party, it is true, the British parliament say, “ that the unfortunate young prince was having settled the royal succession on her as much the child of James II, as her son and her posterity ; but, unlike the daughters George was her own offspring.’' — Historical of James II., she was of too noble a nature Recollections, by lady Mary Wortley M on- to wish to strengthen the title which a free tague. nation had given her, by stooping to avail 2 see Royal Letters in Ellis’s Appendix, herself of the base fictions of a party against ^ Ralrymple’s Appendix, the deposed sovereign, his queen, and son. ^ Additional MSS. British Museum, No. So far was Sophia, electress of Hanover, from 4163, fol. 1. Britannia Bediviva, 51 lb88.] the loyal lieges ad libitum, in drinking the health of their majesties and “the prince Stuart” at the town cross, amidst ringing of bells and roaring salutes of the castle artillery. And the lord provost received commission to go up to the court with two addresses from the good town, one to the king, the other to the queen, to congratulate their majes- ties.^ Even the malcontent city of York drank deep potations to the health of the king, queen, and prince of Wales, and seut up an address of con- gratulation by the lord mayor and sheriffs.^ In short, this event was celebrated with so many public demonstrations of rejoicing in all parts of the realm, that the king and queen flattered themselves with the idea that the nation shared in their rapture. Oxford, ever loyal, notwith- standing her present dispute with his majesty, poured forth a centenary of odes and heroic verses to celebrate the birth of a prince of Wales. The lofty numbers of Dryden’s Britannia Bediviva, which appeared a few days after this event, vindicated the honour of his office as poet- laureate, by throwing the efforts of all contemporary bards into the shade. The following lines are selected as a specimen : — “ Last solemn Sabbath saw the church attend, The Paraclete in fiery pomp descend ; But when his wond’rous octave rolled again, He brought a royal infant in his train.” Here Dryden alludes to the festivals of Pentecost and Trinity-Sunday, and proceeds to recall to the remembrance of his countrymen that Edward the Black Prince was also born on Trinity-Sunday, which was considered a very auspicious circumstance. He forgets not to compliment the royal parents on the mingled likeness which the iniant was said to bear to both : — “ ’Tis paradise to look On the fair frontispiece of Nature’s book ; If the first opening page so charms the sight, Think how the unfolding volume will delight. See, how the venerable * infant lies In early pomp ; how, through the mother’s eyes. The father’s soul with an undaunted view Looks out, and takes our homage as his due.” The injurious reports that had been circulated by a faction, insinuating the introduction of a spurious child, are nobly repelled in these four lines : — “ Bom in broad daylight, that the ungrateful rout May find no room for a remaining doubt ; Tmth, which is light itself, doth darkness shun. And the true eaglet safely dares the sun.” Our laureate’s concluding apostrophe to the royal mother, Mary of 1 Coincil Records of Edinburgh, vol. xxxii. ^ This word, in its ancient sense, did not p, 1 15 . mean “ old,” but “ august,” something worthy 2 Drake’s History of York. of veneration. E 2 5 2 Mary Beatrice o f Modem, [ 1688 . Modena, must not be forgotten, though somewhat too adulatory for modern taste : — “ But you, propitious queen, translated here From your mild skies to rule our rugged sphere ; You, who your native climate have bereft Of all the virtues, and the vices left — Whom piety and beauty make their boast, Though beautiful is well in pious lost ; So lost as daylight is dissolved away. And melt's into the brightness of the day.” It is not to be supposed that all the poets of the age imitated the chivalry of “ glorious John ” and the bards of Oxford, in flinging votive garlands at the feet of Mary Beatrice, to compHment her on having given a male heir to England ; many were the coarse, sarcastic squibs that were written and circulated. A few days after the birth of his son, the following instance of clemency is recorded of king J ames : “ Nathaniel Hook, the late duke of Monmouth’s chaplain, who hath been skulking up and down without being able to obtain his pardon, threw himself lately at his majesty’s feet, desiring his majesty’s pardon, or to be speedily tried and executed, since now life itself, as well as the sense of his guilt, was wearisome to him ; whereupon his majesty thought fit to extend his gracious pardon to him.” ^ The news of the birth of a prince of Wales was received with great pleasure at the court of France ; Skelton, the British ambassador, thus describes the feelings of some of the ladies : — “ Madame la Dauphine is indisposed and in bed, yet sent for me and said, ‘ though she saw no man, yet she could not forbear rejoicing with me upon account of the great news,’ and expressed great joy ; and the little duke of Burgundy, whilst I v/as talking to madame la mareschale de la Motte, of his own accord told me ‘ that he would, for joy, order threescore fusees to be fired.’ Madame la mareschale intends, in October next, to give me something to be hung about the prince’s neck, which prevents the inconveniences which commonly attend the breeding teeth. The same has been used to these three young princes with good success. Monsieur made all the ladies at St. Cloud drink the prince of Wales’s health on Thursday last.” ^ On the 17th of June, thanksgivings were offered up in all the churches for the happy delivery of the queen and the birth of a prince of Wales. 1 Ellis Correspondence, vol. i. p. 371. James confiding master into exile as the hired pen- anfortunately in this, as in several other cases, sioner of his foe. He was in constant cor- where he had exercised the royal attribute of respondence with the British ambassador at mercy, calculated on the gratitude of the the court of France, and, growing grey in his object of his grace. He forgot that the iniquities, continued, even after the death of Christian law, which enjoins forgiveness of James II., to sell the counsels of his widowed our enemies, does not recommend us to trust queen and his son. See the despatches of the them : in a fatal hour he took Nathaniel earl of Manchester and the earl of Stair. Hook into his service, who became one of the » Macpherson’s State Papers, vol. i. p. 262. secret tools of William. He followed his 63 i688.] a proud jand joyful mother. As early as the 29th the unconscious babe, who was born to inherit his father’s misfortunes, not his crown, was introduced, in all the pomp of purple pall and ermine, to receive in person, as he lay in lady Powis’s lap, addresses of congratulation from the lord mayor and corporation of London on the appearance of his royal highness in a troublesome world wherein he was destined to create further commotions. The lord mayor and his civic brethren, having presented an offering of their good-will and affection in the shape of a purse of gold, were admitted to the honour of kissing his tiny hand.^ “ The prince is in very good health,” writes one of the household, “ and hath given audience to several foreign ministers.” Among these were the envoys of the prince of Orange and the king of Denmark.” 2 ‘‘ The lord mayor of York,” pursues our authority, “ is come to town to kiss the prince’s hand, and to present him a purse of gold, as the lord mayor of London did. The queen is in public again, and is to name a day for the firev/orks on the river.” ® Mary Beatrice was now a proud and joyful mother, and her recovery was unusually rapid. She received visits from ladies at the end of a fortnight, and as early as the 28 th gave audience in her chamber to mynheer Zulestein, the Dutch envoy-extraordinary, who was charged with the formal compliments of the prince and princess of Orange on the birth of her son.^ A few days afterwards, her majesty wrote to her royal step-daughter Mary a letter, beginning with these words : “ The first time that I have taken pen in hand since I was brought to bed is this, to write to my dear lemons ® The playful familiarity of addressing her highness of Orange by her pet name on this occasion, sufficiently indicates the affectionate terms on which the consort of James II. had been accustomed to live with his eldest daughter. It is much to be regretted that one sentence only should have been preserved of a letter, commencing in a tone so different from the epistolary style of royal ladies. At the end of four weeks, Mary Beatrice left her retirement at St. James’s-palace, and returned to Whitehall. Lord Clarendon came to pay his duty to her, Monday, July 9 : he says, “ In the afternoon I waited on the queen, the first time I had seen her since she lay in. She was very gracious to me, and asked me ‘ why I had not been there before ? and why I did not come oftener T ” ® The next day the intended ex- hibition of the fireworks was postponed, and the following intimation of the cause was hinted by a person behind the scenes. “ The young prince is ill, but it is a secret. I think he will not hold. The foreign ministers, Zulestein and Grammont, stay to see the issue.” ^ The illness was so dangerous, that the princess Anne condescended to call her brother 1 Ellis Correspondence. Extracts : printed by Sir Henry Ellis, in his 2 Ibid. 3 Royal Letters, first series, vol. iii. p. 348. ^ Gazette. 6 Clarendon’s Diary. 5 Dated July 6, 1688. From Dr. Birch’s ^ Ellis Corresjaondejwj^'-* 54: Mary Beatrice of Modena. [ 1688 . “ the prince of Wales,” when communicating to Mary the happy proba- biUty of his “ soon becoming an angel in heaven.” ^ He was destined to a few more trials on earth. The premature state audiences of the prince of Wales had drawn so much ill-natured mockery on the innocent babe, in the form of vulgar, and sometimes indelicate lampoons, that his offended mother went into a contrary extreme, equally injudicious ; she would not allow him to be seen by any one but the nuncio, and forbade his attendants even to bring him to her before company.^ The reason alleged was, the preva- lence of the smallpox.® In the course of a week the prince was so much amended, that the promised pageant of the fireworks on the Thames was shown off, to celebrate his birth and the queen’s recovery. The exhibition was very splendid, consisting of several thousand fire- balloons, that were shot up in the air, and then, scattering into various figures, fell into the river; there were several stately pyramids, and many statues and devices, among which were two large figures, repre- senting Loyalty and Fecundity.^ The emblem of the latter, a hen and chickens, was scarcely applicable to Mary Beatrice and her one feeble babe — the only survivor of five ephemeral hopes. The frequent reports of his death rendered it necessary to show the prince again in public, and he was taken into the parks every day. “ The lady marquis of Powis, gouvernante to the prince,” writes the Ellis correspondent, ‘‘ hath taught his royal highness a way to ask already, for, a few days ago, his royal highness was brought to the king with a petition in his hand, desiring that 200 hackney-coaches may be added to the 400 now licensed ; but that the revenue for the said 200 might be applied towards the feeding and breeding of foundling children.” Thus, we see that the first idea of establishing a foundling hospital in England emanated from the nursery of the consort of James II. : she fondly thought, no doubt, to endear her infant to the people, by connecting his name with a benevolent institution. Two silver medals were struck in commemoration of the birth of the son of James II. and Mary Beatrice d’Este. The largest has the profile bust of the king on one side, and the queen on the reverse. It is a most noble work of art : nothing can be more classical and graceful than the head and bust of the queen. Her hair is wreathed back, in a Grecian fillet, from the brow, and confined with strings of pearls; a few rich tresses fall, in long loose ringlets, from the low braided knot behind. It might serve for the head of a Juno, or a Eoman empress. The inscription is maria d. g. mag. bri. fran. et hib. regina. The date, 1688, has been, by some carelessness, reversed, and stands thus, 8891. King James is represented in a Eoman dress, with long flowing 1 Dalrymple’s Appendix. 3 Eipg Correspondence. * Letter of princess Anne. ** Ibid. Evelyn. i688.] Orange intrigues at Borne, 55 hair and a wreath of laurel. The other medal, which is in honour of the royal infant, represents him as a naval prince, seated on a cushion on the sea-shore, with ships in the distance. Two angels suspend the coronet of a prince of Wales over his head, and appear sounding notes of triumph with their trumpets. On the reverse, a shield with a lahle of three points, charged with the arms of Eng- land, Scotland, Ireland, and France, is supported between four angels ; one bears the three-plumed crest, the other the arms of a prince of Wales. Although the royal infant had been prayed for in his sister Mary’s chapel at the Hague by the title of prince of Wales,^ and every mark of ceremonial respect paid on the occasion of his birth by William of Orange, James could not be deceived as to the inimical feelings with which his son was regarded in that court. It was from the Dutch press that all the coarse libels branding his birth as an imposition, and throwing the most odious imputations on the queen, had emanated.^ One of William’s agents, a Dutch burgomaster named Ouir, had been detected at Eome by the French ambassador, cardinal d’Etr^es, in a secret correspondence with the pope’s secretary, count Cassoni, tvith whom he communicated in the disguise of a vender ot artificial fruits. One day he was, by the cardinal’s contrivance, knocked down and robbed of his basket of wares. The cardinal, at first deceived by the exqusite beauty of the fruit, thought his informers had been deceived, and that Cassoni patronized him as an artist only. However, the person by whom they had been captured cut them open, and showed that they were filled with the seeds of the league of Augsburg and the projected revolution of England, on slips of paper written in cipher, and twisted round the wires which, covered with green silk, supported the fabric of lemons, grapes, figs, &c. The most important of these was the pope’s promise to supply the emperor with large sums of money, to be placed at the disposal of the prince of Orange. D’Etrees’ ageirt suc- ceeded in picking the lock of Cassoni’s cabinet, and found there a paper which had not yet been submitted to the pope, implying “ that the prince of Orange taking the command of the imperial forces was but a pretext to cover his designs on England ; and that he had entered into a con- spiracy with the English to put to death the king, and the child of which the queen was pregnant, if a son, in order to place himself and his princess on the throne.” The cardinal lost no time in communicating this discovery to lord Thomas Howard, who despatched two couriers to his master with the news.^ James, at the time, regarded it as a diplo- matic trick of France, being well aware that it was part and parcel of 1 Letter of Mary princess of Orange, in ® See the letters of cardinal d’Etrees, in Dalrymple’s Appendix. Burnet. Dalrymple’s Appendix. 2 l^amphlets of the times. 56 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ 1688 . the policy of his good cousin Louis to embroil him with his son-in- law and natural ally, William. It was not till the truth of the first par* of the intelligence was fatally confirmed, that he allowed the latter U make any impression on his mind. His reply to William’s deceitfu congratulations on the birth of the prince of Wales is, nevertheless, indi- cative, by its coldness and stern brevity, of distrust, especially the signifi- cant concluding line : — Kino James to the Prince of Orange. “ July 22, 1688. “ I have had yours by M. Zulestein, who has, as well as your letter, assured me of the part you take on the birth of my son. I would not have him return without writing to you by him, to assure you I shall always be as kind to you as you can with reason expect.” ^ The queen, it will be seen, writes in a more friendly tone, as if willing to give William credit for feeling all that his silvery-tongued envoy had expressed of sympathy in her maternal joy : — Mary Beatrice to the Prince of Orange. “ St. James’s, July 24, 1688. “ The compliments M. Zulestein made me from you, and the letter he brought, are so obliging, that I know not which way to begin to give you thanks for it. I hope he will help me to assure you that I am very sensible of it, and that I desire nothing more than the continuance of your friendship, which I am sure mine shall always one way deserve, by being, with all the sincerity imaginable, “ Truly yours,^ “ M. R.” From the princess of Orange, Mary Beatrice expected letters in ac- cordance with the friendship that had subsisted between them in their early days, when they lived together like two fond sisters, rather than stepmother and daughter. The affections of the Italian princess were of an ardent character ; she had loved the princess Mary with all her heart, and she was piqued that Mary did not express any tenderness towards her infant boy, who, with the egotism of doting maternity, she thought ought to be an object of interest to all the world. If the queen had possessed that knowledge of the human heart which is one of the most important lessons royalty can learn, she would not have wished to inquire too closely into the feelings of the wife of so ambitious a prince as William towards a brother, who appeared born for the especial pur- pose of depriving her of the reversion of a threefold diadem. Perhaps Mary, in the first glow of natural affection, had been accustomed to pet and caress the three infants that had been bom to her youthful step- * Dalrymple’s Appendix. 2 Ibid. 57 1 688 .] Precarious hecdtti of the prince. mother while they lived together in St. James’s-jjalace, and had regarded them, not as rivals, but beloved playthings ; and the queen could noi perceive that the case was widely different as regarded the long-delayed birth of an heir-apparent to the crown, Mary Beatrice was not only so simple as to impute the coldness of the princess of Orange to a diminu- tion of affection towards herself, but to address some tender expostula- tions to her on the subject, in a letter dated Windsor, July 31, telling her, she suspected that she had not so much kindness for her as she used to have. “ And the reason I have to think so,” pursues the royal mother, “ is (for since I have begun I must tell you all the truth) that since I have been brought to bed you have never once in your letters to me taken the least notice of my son, no more than if he had never been bom, only in that which M. Zulestein brought, which I look upon as a compliment that you could not avoid, though I should not have taken it so if ever you had named him afterwards.” ^ If any real doubts had been felt by the princess of Orange as to the claims of the infant to her sisterly affection, surely the queen afforded her a decided opportunity for mentioning the suspicions the princess Anne had endeavoured to insinuate, Mary Beatrice was highly gratified with the papal brief or letter addressed to her by the head of her church on the birth of her son, assuring her that that great blessing had been obtained from heaven by his fervent prayers and supplications in her behalf. Her majesty was so polite as to take this for fact, and forgetting all the personal affronts and political ill offices which that pontiff had put, both on herself as a daughter of the house of Este, and on the king her husband as the friend of Louis XIV., responded in the following dutiful epistle : — Maky Beatrice to the Pope. “ As great as my joy has been for the much-sighed-for birth of a son, it is signally increased by the benign part which your holiness has taken in it, shown to me with such tender marks of affection in your much prized brief, which has rejoiced me more than aught beside, seeing that he is the fruit of those pious vows and prayers which have obtained from Heaven this unexpected blessing ; whence there springs within me a well-founded hope, that the same fervent prayers of your holiness that have procured me this precious gift, will be still powerful to preserve him, to the glory of God and for the exaltation of his holy church. For this pur- pose, relying on the benignity of your holiness to grant the same to me, I prostrate myself, with my royal babe, at your holy feet, entreating that your holiness’s apostolical benediction may be bestowed on both of us. “ Your most obedient daughter, “ Maria, R. “ At London, the 3rd of August, 1688.” 2 For the first two months, the existence of this “ dearest boon of Heaven,” as the royal parents called their son, appeared to hang on a tenure to the full as precarious as the lives of the other infants, whose births had 1 Extracts from Dr. Birch’s MSS. : pub- 2 From the original Italian, printed in the lifhed by Sir Henry EUis, in Royal Letters, notes of Mackintosh’s History of the llevolu- tirst series, voL iii. tion of 1688. 58 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1688. tantalized Mary Beatrice with maternal hopes and fears. Those children having been nourished at the breast, it was conjectured that, for some constitutional reason, the natural aliment was prejudicial to her majesty’s offspring, and they determined to bring the prince of Wales up by hand. “ This morning,” says the nuncio,^ “ I have had the honour of seeing him whilst they gave him his food, which he took with a good appetite : he appears to me very well complexioned, and well made. The said aliment is called waiter gruell ; it is composed of barley-flour, water, and sugar, to which a few currants are sometimes added ” — a very unsuitable condiment for a tender infant, as the result proved. Violent fits of indigestion produced inflammation and other dangerous symptoms, and he was sent to Kichmond for change of air ; but as they' continued to feed him on currant gruel, he grew from bad to worse. “ The young prince lives on,” writes the Ellis correspondent, “ but is a weakly infant, at Kichmond.” The queen, who was going to Bath, deferred her journey, and came frequently to see him. She attributed his illness to the want of a nurse, and the improper food with which they were poisoning rather than nourishing him. “ The state to which I saw my son reduced by this flne experiment,” says her majesty,^ “ would deter me from ever allowing it to be tried on the children of others. When he had been fed in this way till he was about six weeks old, he became so dangerously ill, that they thought every sigh would be his last. We had sent him to Richmond, a country house, to be brought up under the care of lady Powis, his governess, and he got so much worse, that she expected his death every moment. I got into my coach, with the determination of going to him at all events. Lady Powis had sent word to us that, if the infant died, she would despatch a courier to spare us from the shock of coming to the house where he was. Every man we met by the way I dreaded was that courier.” King James accompanied his anxious consort on this journey, and participated in all her solicitude and fears. When the royal parents reached the river side, they feared to cross, and sent a messenger forward to inquire whether their son were alive, that they might not have the additional affliction of seeing him if he^were dead. After a brief but agonizing pause of suspense, word was brought to them “ the prince is yet alive,” and they ventured over.^ “ When we arrived,” continues the queen, “ we found my son still living. I asked the physicians ‘if they had yet hopes of doing anything for him.^^’ They all told us ‘ they reckoned him as dead.’ I sent into the village in quest of a wet-nurse (she who suckled him). I gave him that nurse ; he took her milk ; it revived him, and she has happily reared him. But this peril was not the least of those which have befallen him 1 Count d’ Adda’s letter, June 28, in Mack- * In a conversation with the nuns of Cliail- intosh’s Appendix. lot : MS. in the archives of France. ^ Life of King James i688.] Unceremonious expulsion of a spy. 59 in the course of his history, which, like ours, will appear to those who shall read it hereafter like romance.” ^ The same morning came colonel Sands, the equerry of the princess Anne, from Tunbridge Wells, charged with a complimentary inquiry after the health of the prince of Wales, her brother. His real mission was that of a creeping spy. He arrived immediately after their majesties, and encountered the queen coming from her sick infant’s apartments, with her eyes swollen with excessive weeping, having altogether the appearance of the most passionate grief. She passed on without speaking or noticing him, and went to her own chamber. This was evidently when the prince had been given up by the physicians, and before the arrival of his village nurse. Sands, concluding from what he had seen that the little prince was in the agonies of death, stole unobserved into the nursery, where, he affirmed, “ he saw Mrs. de Labadie, the nurse, kneeling beside the cradle, with her hood drawn round her face, weeping and lamenting over a pale, livid, and apparently dying infant, 'whose features were spotted and convulsed ; but before he got more than a transient glimpse, lady Strickland came flying out of the inner room, in a great passion, asked him angrily * what he did in her prince’s nursery ?’ and without waiting for a reply, unceremoniously pushed him out,”^ Lady Strickland has, in consequence, been described as a notable virago — a character by no means in accordance with the sweet and feminine expression of her face in Lely’s beautiful portrait of her at Sizergh-castle ; but, even if it be true that she expelled the prowling sp}^ with lively demonstrations of contempt, when she found him hovering, like a vulture on the scent of death, so near her royal charge, she only treated him according to his deserts. Sands pretended “ that, as he was retiring, he met the king, who asked him with a troubled countenance ‘ if he had seen the prince?’” According to his own account Sands told his sovereign an untruth, by replying that, “ he had not,” although aware that he must stand convicted of the falsehood as soon as lady Strickland should make her report of his intrusion into the royal nursery. He has avowed himself, at any rate, a shameless and unscrupulous violator of the truth, and in the same spirit goes on to say, “ that the king’s coun- tenance cleared up ; that he invited him to dinner, and after dinner bade him ‘ go and see the prince, who was better.’ But, on being con- ducted into the nursery, he saw in the royal cradle a fine, lovely babe, very different from that which he had seen in the morning ; so that he verily believed it was not the same child, but one that had been substi- tuted in the place of it, for it was very lively, and playing with the 1 This account was recorded from the lips for bringing up infants^ on goats’ and asses* of the royal mother by one of the sisters of milk. — M8. Memorials of Mary of Modena, Chaillot, in the year 1712, and was introduced archives of the kingdom of France, by the conversation having turned on the 2 Oldmixon. proposed foundation of a hospital Paris 60 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [lOss. fringe of the cradle-quilt.” ^ If there be any truth in the story at all, it is probable that he saw the royal infant in the agonies of a convulsion- fit in the morning ; and that when he saw it again in the afternoon, it was after it had received the nourishment for which it had pined, and a favourable change had taken place; the distortion of the features had relaxed, and the blackness disappeared, which, allowing for the exagge- ration of an untruthful person, is quite sufficient to account for the change in its aspect. The animation of the lately- suffering babe, and its alleged employment of playing with the fringe of the counterpane, is not so easy to reconcile with natural causes, as no infant of that tender age is wont to display that sort of intelligence. Be this as it may, colonel Sands pretended that the real prince of Wales died in the morning, and that the lively boy he saw in the afternoon was substituted in his place.^ Lloyd, bishop of St. Asaph, added to this story the grave context that the royal infant, who, according to his account and Burnet’s, had almost as many lives as a cat, was buried very privately at Chiswick. The princess Anne, though she greatly patronised the romance of the warming-pan, was exceedingly pleased with colonel Sands’ nursery-tale, till, in her latter years, she began to discourage those about her from repeating it, by saying “she thought colonel Sands must have been mistaken.” Burnet has represented this prince of Wales as the fruit of six different impostures.® The nurse whom the queen, prompted by the powerful instincts of maternity, had introduced to her suffering infant to supply those wants which the cruel restraints of royalty had deprived herself of the sweet office of relieving, was the wife of a tile-maker at Kichmond. She came to the palace at the first summons, in her cloth petticoat and waistcoat, with old shoes and no stockings f but being a healthy, honest person, she was approved by the doctors, and still more so by the little patient, to whom she proved of more service than all the physicians in his august father’s realm. She immediately became an object of the royal gratitude and bounty ; gold, of which she was too unsophisticated a child of nature to comprehend the value, was showered upon her, and her coarse weeds were exchanged for garments more meet to come in contact with the precious nursling who was so daintily lapped in purple and fine linen ; but these changes were gradually and cautiously made. “ She is new rigged out by degrees,” writes one of the courtiers, “ that the surprise may not alter her in her duty and care ; a lOOZ. per annum is already settled upon her, and two or three hundred guineas already given, which she saith she knows not what to do with.”® The queen remained with her boy at Kichmond till the 9th of August, 1 Oldmixon Ibid. ^ Ellis Correspondence. ^ S.ee Smollett’s Comments in his History * Ibid, of England : reign of James 11. 61 i688.] His royal highness's nurse, when he was considered sufficiently recovered to accompany her to Wind- sor, and she determined never again to allow him to be separated from her. “On Saturday last,” writes the Ellis correspondent, “his royal highness the prince of Wales was removed from Eichmond to Windsor, where he is lodged in the princess of Denmark’s house, which was Mrs, Ellen Gwynne’s, and is well recovered of his late indisposition, to the joy of the whole court. His highness’s nurse is also in good health and good plight, being kept to her old diet and exercise. She hath also a governess allowed her, an ancient gentlewoman, who is with her night and day, at home and abroad.” ^ Many pretty stories of the simplicity and innocency of this nurse were circulated in the court.2 Other tales, of a less innocent character, connected with the prince and his foster-mother, were spread by the restless malignity of the faction that had conspired, long before his birth, to deprive him of his regal inheritance. It was said that the tile-maker’s wife was the real mother of the infant who was cradled in state at Windsor, for whom, like the mother of Moses, she had been cunningly called to perform the office of a nurse.^ The likeness of the young prince to both his parents was so remarkable, that it seemed as if “ the good goddess Nature ” had resolved that he should carry in his face a satisfactory vindication of his lineage. Sir Godfrey Kneller, long after the revolution had fixed William and Mary on the throne, having gone down to Oxford to paint the portrait of Dr. Wallis, while that gentleman was sitting to him, on hearing him repeat one of the absurd inventions of Lloyd touching the birth of the disinherited prince of Wales, stating “ that he was the son of a bricklayer’s wife,” burst into the following indignant oration in contradiction to this assertion ; “ Vat de devil ! de prince of Wales de son of de brickbat ouman ? It is von lie. I am not of his party, nor shall not be for him. I am satisfied with what de parliament has done, but I must tell you what I am sure of, and in what I cannot be mistaken. His fader and moder have sat to me about thirty- six time a-piece, and I know every line and bit in their faces. I could paint king James just now by memory. I say the child is so like both, that there is not a feature in his face but what belongs either to father or mother ; this I am sure of, and,” continued he, with an oath, “ I cannot be mistaken ; nay, the nails of his fingers are his moder' s, de queen that was. Doctor, you may be out in your letters, but,” and here he repeated his strong asseveration, “ I can’t be out in my lines.” Kneller had * Ellis Correspondence, vol. ii. 2 Sir John Bramston’s Autobiography. 3 Political pamphlets and squibs of the time. < Thome corroborates this account in his Diary, and adds that Sir Godfrey Kneller said, in the presence of several persons whose names ’he quotes, that on the sight of the picture of the prince of Wales that was sent from Paris to London, he was fully satisfied of that which others seemed to doubt, having perfect knowledge of the lines and features of the faces of both king James and queen Mary. — Rawlinson's MSS. in the Bodleian library, Oxford. ,See, also. Carter’s letter in Aubrey, vol. ii. pp. 136, 7, and Thorne’s Diary. 62 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1688. painted the portrait of the infant prince, after he became a lovely thriving babe, with no other covering than a purple velvet mantle, lined with ermine. A fine engraving from this painting is preserved in Crole’s illustrated copy of Pennant’s London, Print-room, British Museum. The queen, deeply piqued by the coolness of the princess of Orange when reluctantly compelled to mention the prince of Wales, was prompted by the fond weakness of maternity to expostulate with her on her want of affection for her unwelcome brother. In answtjr to the princess’s letter by the last post, she writes : — “ Windsor, August 17 . “ Even in this last letter, by the way you speak of my son, and the formal name you call him by, I am confirmed in the thoughts I had before, that you have for him the last indifference. The king has often told me, with a great deal of trouble, that as often as he has mentioned his son in his letters to you, you never once answered any thing concern- ing him.” ^ The princess of Orange has indorsed her royal stepmother’s tender but reproachful letter with this cautious sentence : Answered, “that all the king’s children shall ever find as much affection and kindness from me as can be expected from children of the same father.” The parental cares and anxieties of the king and queen for the health of their son appear to have been so engrossing, as to have distracted their attention from every other subject. They entered his nursery and shut out the world and its turmoils, while every day brought the gathering of the storm-clouds nearer. The king of France sent Bonrepaux once more to warn king James that the Dutch armament was to be directed against his coasts ; and that not only the emperor, but the pope, and many of his own subjects, were confederate with his son-in-law against him, repeating, at the same time, his offer of French ships and forces for his defence. James haughtily declined the proffered succours,* and obstinately refused to give credence to the agonizing truth, that ambition had rent asunder the close ties by which Heaven had united him with those who were compassing his destruction. The unfortunate duke of Norfolk, when betrayed by his servants, had said, “ I die, because I have not known how to suspect James fell, because he could not believe that his own chil- dren were capable of incurring the guilt of parricide. That he imputed different feelings to Mary, may be gathered from his frequent and tender appeals to her filial duty and affection, from the time when the veil was at last forcibly removed from his eyes as regarded the purpose of William’s hostile preparations. With the fond weakness of parental love, he fancied her into the passive tool or reluctant victim of a selfish Birch’s Extracts, in Ellis’s Royal Letters ; first series, voL iil. p. 349. 2 Letters of Bonrepaux, in Bibliotheque du RoL i 688 .] The Dutch fleet in sight, 63 and arbitrary consort, and wrote to her in sorrow, not in anger. Anna he never doubted, William Pen always a faithful, and generally a wise counsellor, advised his majesty to summon a parliament. James declared his intention to do so, in spite of the opposition of father Petre, and issued the writ, August 24th, for it to meet on the 17th of November : he had delayed it too long. Sir Koger Strickland, the vice-admiral of England, sent an express from the Downs, September 18th, that the Dutch fleet was in sight. Up to that moment James had remained unconvinced that the naval armament of his son-in-law was preparing for his destruction. He had written on the preceding day to William : — ‘*'1 am sorry there is so much likelihood of war on the Rhine, nobody wishing more the peace of Europe than myself. I intend to go to-morrow to London, and next day to Chat- ham, to see the condition of the new batteries I have made on the Medway, and my ships there. The queen and my son are to be at London on Thursday, which is all I shall say, but that you shall find me as kind to you as you can expect.” Superscribed — “ For my sonne the Prince of Orange.” James had relied on his daughter’s assurance that the hostile prepara- tions of the prince were to be employed against France. As soon as he had read Strickland’s despatch, he hurried from Windsor to London and Chatham to take measures for the defence of the coast, leaving the queen to follow with her boy.^ They met at Whitehall on the 20th, with boding hearts. The queen held her court on the Sunday evening : she was anxious to conciliate the nobility. “ That evening,” lord Clarendon says, “ I waited on the queen. She asked me, ‘ where I had been, that she had not seen me a great while?’ I said, ‘ her majesty had been but three days in town.’ She answered, ‘ she loved to see her friends, and bade me come often to her.’” The next day James told his brother-in- law, Clarendon, “ that the Dutch were now coming to invade England in good earnest.” — ‘‘I presumed to ask him,” says the earl, “if he really ^lieved it ? To which the king replied with warmth, ‘ Do I see you, my lord ?’ ” Mary Beatrice continued to correspond with the princess of Orange at this agitating period. On the 21st she apologizes for not having written on the last post-day, because the princess Anne came to see her after an absence of two months.^ The last birthday commemoration of Mary Beatrice ever celebrated in the British court, was on the 25th of September this year, instead of the 5th of October, o. s., as on previous occasions. It was observed with all the usual tokens of rejoicing — ringing of bells, bonfires, festivities, and a splendid court-ball.^ Hollow and joyless gaiety ! The Dutch fleet was hovering on the coast, and every one awaited the event in breathless suspense — no one with a more anxious heart than the queen. She wrote a touching and very temperate J Ellis Correspondence. Birch’s Extracts from the letters of Mary d’Este. ® Ellis. CA Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1688 letter to her royal step-daughter and once-loving companion, the princess of Orange, telling her that it was reported, and had been for a long time, that the prince of Orange was coming over with an army, hut that till lately she had not believed it possible ; and that it was also said that her royal highness was coming over with him.” This her majesty pro- tested “ she never would believe, knowing her to he too good to perform such a thing against the worst of fathers, much less against the best, who, she believed, had loved her better than the rest of his children.” ^ Every, appeal to the natural affections and filial duty of the princess was, as might have been expected, unavailing. Mary Beatrice wrote again in the anguish of her heart to her apathetic correspondent, though she acknowledged that she dared not trust herself to speak on that which occujfied her whole thoughts. “ I don’t well know what to say,” observes the agitated consort of James II. ; “ dissemble I cannot ; and if I enter upon the subject that fills everybody’s mind, I am afraid of saying too much, and therefore I think the best way is to say nothing.” 2 This letter, apparently the last the queen ever wrote to Mary of Orange, is dated October 5th, the day on which her majesty completed her thirty- first year, an anniversary on which letters of a far different character had been heretofore exchanged by these two royal Marys, between whom the rival title of Mary queen of Great Britain was so soon to be disputed. King James was, meanwhile, vainly endeavouring to retrace his former rash steps — an ill-timed proceeding in the hour of danger, as it was cer- tain to be construed into signs of fear. The period when he could with grace and dignity have restored charters, published pardons, and promised to redress all grievances, was immediately after the birth of his son ; but he had allowed the golden opportunity to pass of endearing that object of paternal hope and promise to liis people, by making him the dove of a renewed covenant with them — a pledge of his intention to deserve their affections, and to preserve them for his sake. The bishops framed a loyal form of prayer, to be read in all the churches, That it might please Almighty God to defend their most gracious king in this time of danger, and to give his holy angels charge over him.” This was quite as much as James had any right to expect of his Protestant hierarchy, and considering the state of public opinion at that time it was an important service. Every day the aspect of affairs became more portentous, and still the king of France persevered in pressing the offer of his fleet and army on James, James said, “ That he did not wish to be assisted by any one but his own subjects.”^ Kennet ascribes the continued refusal of that prince to avail himself of the offered succour, to the operation of God’s especial providence. 1 Birch. ^ 3 Reports of Barillon, Bonrepaux, and Life 2 Birch’s Extracts, in Sir Henry Ellis’s of Jaiiies U. Autobiography of the duke of Royal Letters, vol. iG. Berwick. i688.] Baptism of the prince, 65 Doubtless it was so, but the paternal affection of James for his country was the means whereby that protective principle worked. The last of our Stuart kings was a scurvy politician, a defective theologian, an infatuated father, and a despotic prince ; but, with all these faults, he had an English heart, and he deemed it less disgraceful to submit to the humiliation of courting his offended prelates, giving up the contest with Oxford, and doing everything to conciliate his subjects, than to be the means of bringing in a foreign army to assist him in working out his will. Having by his concessions, and the proclamation that the elec- tions for the parliament which he had summoned to meet in November were to be free and unbiassed, deprived, as he imagined, his subjects of an excuse for calling in foreign aid in vindication of their rights, and his son-in-law of a plausible pretext for interference, he fancied the storm might pass over without involving his realm in a civil war ; but he was bought and sold by his cabinet, and his enemies were those that ate of his household bread. Treachery pervaded his council chamber, and from thence diffused itself through every department of his government ; it was in his garrisons, his army, his fleet, and the first seeds had been sown by those who derived their being from himself, his daughters. All this was kno^vn to almost every one in the realm but himself. Evelyn sums up the array of gloomy portents by which the birthday of James II. was marked at this crisis in the very spirit of a Koman soothsayer, save that he leaves the reader to draw the inference to which he points. “ 14th of October. The king’s birthday. No guns from the Tower, as usual. The sun eclipsed at its rising. This day signal for the victory of William the Conqueror over Harold, near Battle, in Sussex. The wind, which had been hitherto west, was east all this day. Wonderful expectation of the Dutch fleet. Public prayers ordered to be read in the churches against invasion.” In the midst of these alarms the king, with his usual want of tact, caused the prince of Wales to be christened in the Catholic chapel of St James’s ; the pope, represented by his nuncio count d’Adda, being godfather, the queen-dowager, Catharine of Braganza, godmother.^ This ceremonial is noticed by one of the court in these words : “ The prince of Wales was christened yesterday, and called James Francis Edward — pope’s nuncio and queen-dowager gossips. The Catholic court was fine, and the show great.” ^ The last name, which ought to have been the first, was dear to the historic memories of the people, as connected with the glories of the warlike Plantagenet sovereigns, Edward the Black Prince, and the early promise of Edward YI. ; but James, instead of allowing these associations to operate in favour of his son, thought proper to specify that it was in honour of Edward the Confessor, a monarch who stood just then almost VOL. V Gazette. Rapin. 2 Ellis Correspondence. F 66 Mary Beatrice of 3 Iodena. [1688. as much at discount in popular opinion as himself. All James’s notions, except, that of universal toleration, were six centuries behind the age in which he lived, and in that he was a century and a half too early. In wanting judgment to understand the temper of the times, he made all other regal sciences useless. What could be more unwise than inflicting on the heir of a Protestant realm a godfather, who was conventionally anathematized and defied by three-fourths of the people, and whose scara- mouch effigy was annually committed to the flames, in company with that of Guy Fawkes, at the national auto-dafe of the 5th of November ? The name of Francis had ostensibly been given to the prince in com- pliment to his uncle of Modena ; but Mary Beatrice had also a spiritual godfather for her son, St. Francis Xavier, whose intercessions she con- sidered had been very efiBcacious in obtaining for her the blessing of his birth. In acknowledgment of the supposed patronage of the Virgin Mary on this occasion, her majesty sent a rich offering to the shrine of Loretto. The Italian education of this princess had rendered her uncon- scious of the fact that such practices are regarded by the Protestant world as acts of idolatry, by the musing antiquary as vestiges of the superstitions of remote antiquity lingering in a land where votive gifts were presented at the altars of Venus and Juno, and other pagan deities. The earl of Perth, when speaking of the offerings to the shrine of our Lady of Loretto, says, “By- the -by, our queen’s is the richest there as yet, and will be so a great while, as I believe.” ^ The following paragraph appeared in several papers on the 29th of September : “ They say the seven bishops are to be sent to the Dutch fleet, to conclude a peace with them. The yeomen of the guard are to attend the king on horseback, if he goes against the Dutch ; and the queen is to go to the Tower for security, with a guard of 1000 Irish to keep the citizens in order and obedience to his majesty.” This was succeeded by a diary of inflammatory falsehoods invented for the purpose of exciting popular prejudice against the king and queen, and their infant son. Many of these stories appeared, under the head of current events, in the daily and weekly papers. Confident reports that the Dutch fleet had been shattered and dis- persed in one of the rough autumnal gales, crowded the drawing-room at Whitehall with deceitful faces once more. The courtiers, like persons in the ague, intermitted in their homage according to the way of the wind. They had a hot fit of loyalty on the 16th of October ; but the rumours of the Dutch disasters were speedily contradicted, and the royal circle visibly thinned in consequence. The Dutch prince, the expected liberator, had put forth his memorials explaining the causes of his coming, at the end of wLich lurked the mainspring which impelled him to that Perth Correspondence, edited by W. Jerdan, esq. Recently printed by the Camden Society. i688.] King and qmen accused of imposing a spurious prince, 67 resolutioD, “ a determination to inquire into the birth of the pretended prince of Wales in other words, to endeavour to deprive his infant brother-in-law of his birthright, under the shallow pretext that he was not born of the queen. Copies of a pamphlet, supposed to be written by Dr. Burnet, were distributed, entitled, A Memorial of the English Pro- testants to the Prince and Princess of Orange ; wherein after a long state- ment of the grievances king James had put on the nation, it was set forth, that the king and queen had iniposed a spurious prince of Wales on the nation ; and that this was evident, because his majesty would never suffer the witnesses who were present at the queen’s delivery to. be examined.” Other papers were disseminated, asserting ‘‘ that the mother of the pretended prince of Wales was coming over in the Dutch fleet.” — “ The charge respecting a spurious heir,” says Sir James Mackintosh, “ was one of the most flagrant wrongs ever done to a sovereign or a father. The son of James II. was perhaps the only prince in Europe of whose blood there could be no rational doubt, considering the verifica- tion of his birth, and the unimpeachable life of his mother.” James has called his consort “ the chastest and most virtuous princess in the world.” To vindicate his claims to the paternity of their beloved son — the last male scion of the royal line of Stuart — and to clear the queen of the odious imputation that was now publicly cast upon her by the self- interested husband of his eldest daughter, appeared to James II. matters of greater moment than the defence of the crown he wore. He deter- mined to have the birth of the royal infant legally attested before he left London to take the command of his forces. The feminine delicacy of Mary Beatrice revolted at the first proposi- tion of a proceeding so painful to the womanly feelings of herself and the ladies who must be called upon to make depositions before a large assembly of gentlemen, for she was aware, that unless those depositions were minutely circumstantial, they would be turned against her and her son. She considered the plan suggested by the king derogatory to their mutual dignity and her own innocence, and that the unprecedented number of honourable persons who had witnessed the birth of her son rendered circumstantial evidence needless. One day, however, at a visit she made the princess Anne, she introduced the subject, and said, she wondered how such ridiculous reports could get into circulation.” Anne answered, very coldly, “ that it was not so much to be wondered at, since such persons were not present as ought to have been there.” 2 The queen was much surprised at this rejoinder, which seems to have been the first thing that opened her eyes to the true source whence these injurious calumnies had proceeded. It was obviously as much Anne’s policy to provoke a quarrel now, as to imply doubts of the verity of her brother’s birth. But quarrels are 1 Echard, Kennet, and all histories of the times 2 Life of James IL, vol. ii. p. 197 F 2 68 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1688, for the vulgar ; Mary Beatrice resolved to answer the innuendo by the testimony of the numerous witnesses who were present at her accouche- ment. For this purpose, an extraordinary council was convened, on the 22nd of October, in the great council-chamber at Whitehall, where, in the presence of prince George of Denmark, the archbishop of Canterbury, most of the peers spiritual and temporal, the judges, the great officers of the crown, the lord mayor and aldermen of the city of London, and the members of the privy council, the queen-dowager, and all the persons who were present at the birth of the prince of Wales being assembled, the king addressed them with mournful solemnity in these words : “ My lords, I have called you together upon a very extraordinary occasion, but extraordinary diseases must have extraordinary remedies. The malicious endeavours of my enemies have so poisoned the minds of some of my subjects, that, by the reports I have from all hands, I have reason to believe that very many do not think this son with which God hath blessed me to be mine, but a supposed child ; but I may say that, by particular Providence, scarce any prince was ever born where there were so many persons present. I have taken this time to have the matter heard and examined here, expecting that the prince of Orange with the first easterly wind will invade this kingdom. And as I have often ventured my life for the nation before I came to the crown, so I think myself more obliged to do the same now I am king, and do intend to go in person against him, whereby I may be exposed to accidents ; and therefore I thought it necessary to have this now done, in order to satisfy the minds of my subjects, and to prevent this kingdom being engaged in blood and confusion after my death. I have desired the queen-dowager to give herself the trouble of coming hither, to declare what she knows of the birth of my son ; and most of the ladies, lords, and other persons who were present, are ready here to depose upon oath their knowledge of this matter.” The queen-dowager, and forty ladies and gentlemen of high rank, whereof seventeen were Catholics and three-and- twenty Protestants, besides the queen’s midwife, nurses, and four physicians, verified the birth of the young prince on oath, '^bhe evidence of the following Protestant ladies, Isabella countess of Roscom- mon, Anne countess of Arran, Anne countess of Sunderland, lady Isabella Wentworth, lady Bellasyse, and Mrs. Margaret Dawson, was so positive, minute, and consistent with that of the Catholic ladies, that, if any real doubts had existed, it must have set them at rest for ever.^ The princess Anne had been requested to attend, but excused herself 1 The Minute of Council of Monday, Octo- self and the queen-dowager, with the depo- ber 22, 1688 : printed by Bill, Hill, and New- sitions of the other witnesses present at the combe, printers to the king. On the 1st of birth of the prince of Wales, should be November following, it was ordered by the printed and published, king in council, that the declarations of him- 1688 .] Verification of the p'ince's birth. 69 to her king and father, under a false pretence that she was in that situa- tion which she had accused the queen of feigning. It was the sequel of her artful departure to Bath, that she might not he a witness of what she was determined to dispute — the claims of a male heir to the crown. “ And now, my lords,” said the king, “ although I did not question but that every person here present was satisfied before in this matter, yet by what you have heard you will be able to satisfy others. Besides, if I and the queen could be thought so wicked as to endeavour to impose a child upon the nation, you see how impossible it would have been ; and there is none of you but will easily believe me, who have suffered for conscience’ sake, incapable of so great a villany to the prejudice of my own children. And I thank God that those who know me, know well that it is my principle to do as I would be done by, for that is the law and the prophets ; and I would rather die a thousand deaths than do the least wrong to any of my children.” His majesty further said, “ If any of my lords think it necessary the queen should be sent for, it shall be done.” But their lordships not thinking it necessary, her majesty was not sent for. As the injurious doubts that had been cast on the birth of the young prince originated in malicious falsehood,^ its verificaticm had no other effect than to draw the coarsest ribaldry on the king and queen, and their innocent babe. The ladies, who had had sufficient moral courage to attest the facts which exonerated their royal mistress from the calumnies of an unprincipled faction were especially marked out for vengeance. The base lampooners of the faction dipped their pens in more abhorrent mud than usual, to bespatter witnesses whose testimony was irrefragable. ^ The next event that engaged public attention was the fall of Sunder- land. That perfidious minister was denounced in full council to the king, of betraying his secrets to his enemies. James had before been warned of him by the envoy of Louis XIV. Lady Sunderland flew to the queen, and besought her protection for her husband, protesting that he was falsely accused.^ The queen never interfered in cases which she considered out of her province. Sunderland tried to shake her resolution, by throwing himself at her feet and pleading the merits of his conversion to the church of Rome ; but Mary Beatrice had sufficient reason to suspect the fact, afterwards urged by his friends as an excuse for his popery, “ that he had turned Catholic the better to deceive the king, and to serve the Protestant cause.” While he was yet closeted with her majesty, he was apprized by a message from the king that he was superseded in his office by the earl of Middleton. A partial 1 “ Buniet>” as the continuator of Mackin- and his queen, with a flagrant disregard of tosh justly observes, “ has treated this in- decency and truth.” vestigation, and all the circumstances con- ® Evelyn's Diary. Mackintosh’s History nected with the birth of the son of James 11. of the Revolution of 1688. 70 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1688. change in other departments followed, but James’s new cabinet was feeble and inefficient. On the 27th, an express brought the news that the Dutch armada had been scattered, and all but annihilated, in a mighty storm. James and the Catholic party suffered themselves to hope, and, deceived by William’s purposed exaggeration of the mischief, to pause. Seven days served to repair all damage, and to get the fleet in order again. William sailed a second time from Helvoetsluys, November 1st. On the 2nd the fortunate “ Protestant east wind,” as it was called, swelled his sails. His descent was expected to be on the coast of Yorkshire, but, led by the traitor Herbert — for traitor every man is who, under any pretext, pilots a foreign armament to the shores of his own country — after steering north about twelve hours, he changed his course, and passing the royal fleet of England in the downs, entered Torbay, and landed on the 5th. The conduct of lord Dartmouth, by whom the fleet was commanded, in permitting the Dutchmen to pass without firing one shot for the honour of the British flag, is still matter of debate. The first intelligence of the landing of the prince of Orange was brought to James by an officer, who had ridden with such speed, that before he could conclude his narrative, he fell exhausted at the feet of the king — a startling omen, according to the temper of the times.^ William was received at first but coldly in the west. The mayor of Exeter, though unsupported by a single soldier, boldly arrested the avant courrier of the Dutch stadtholder, and shut the gates of the town against his troops at their approach, and the bishop fled. It was nine days before any person of consequence joined the Dutch prince. The episcopalian party in Scotland became more fervent in their loyalty as the crisis darkened ; their bishops presented an address on the 3rd of November to king James, assuring him, in language that must have been very cheering to the drooping spirits of himself and his consort, “ that they and their clergy prayed that his son the prince of Wales might inherit the virtues of his august parents; and that God in his mercy might still preserve and deliver his majesty, by giving him the hearts of his subjects and the necks of his enemies.”^ A little of the energy and promptitude that had distinguished the early days of James duke of York, would probably have enabled king James to maintain his throne ; but the season of knightly enterprise was over with him. He had begun life too early ; and, like most persons who have been compelled by circumstances to exert the courage and self-possession of men in the tender years of childhood, James appears to have suffered a premature decay of those faculties that had been precociously forced into action. At seventeen James Stuart would have met tlie crisis triumphantly ; at fifty-seven, it overpowered him. 1 Letters in Dalrymple’s Appendix. James’s Journal. 2 Mackintosh i688.] King sets out for the army. 71 James had appointed Salisbury-plain for the rendezvous of his forces, and thither he ought to have proceeded instantly, instead of bestowing his attention on the defences of his metropolis. The deep-laid treachery of his favourite Churchill, in the mean time, began to work in the desertion of lord Cornbury, who attempted to carry off three regiments to the prince of Orange. Only sixty troopers followed him, it is true ; but, in consequence of this movement, lord Feversham, fancying the prince of Orange was upon his outposts, ordered the troops to fall back, and a general panic communicated itself to the army. An express brought this ill news to Whitehall, just as the king was going to sit down to dinner, but calling only for a piece of bread and a glass of wine, he immediately summoned his council to meet. He had better have ordered his horses, and set out to encourage his soldiers. His timorous or treacherous advisers persuaded him not to hazard his person till he should be better assured of the temper of his troops, and thus three more precious days were lost. James having been informed, that though lord Cornbury was the first deserter, he was not the only traitor in his service, nor yet in his house- hold, determined to make one of those frank appeals to the honour of his officers, which often elicits a generous burst of feeling. He called all the generals and colonels of his reserved force together, and told them, “ that if there were any among them unwilling to serve him, he gave them free leave to surrender their commissions, and depart wheresoever they pleased ; for he was willing to spare them the dishonour of desert- ing, as lord Cornbury had done.” They all appeared deeply moved, and replied imanimously, “ that they would serve him to the last drop of their blood.” ^ “ The duke of Grafton and my lord Churchill,” says James, “ were the first that made this attestation, and the first who broke it.” If religious scruples had been the true cause, as Churchill afterwards pretended, of his deserting his royal benefactor, why did he not candidly say so on this occasion, and resign his commission, instead of deceiving him by professing devotion to his service.? He was not contented with deserting his unfortunate king in the hour of need : he designed to have the merit of betraying him.^ It was not till the 17th of November that James set out for the army. Fears for the safety of his son so completely haunted his mind, that he would not venture to leave him in London, even under the care of the queen. He therefore determined to send the infant prince to Portsmouth, and from thence to France, and that he should travel under his own escort the first day’s journey. “ This was a melancholy parting, especially to the queen, who never feared danger when the king was with her, and had, all her life, chosen rather to share his hazards and his hardships than to be in the greatest ease and security without him. This being I King James's Journal. 2 ibid. 72 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ i b 8 8 . now denied her, and he obliged to part from her on a dangerous expedition, and the prince her son, at the same time taken from her, to he sent into a foreign country, while she was left in a mutinous and discontented city, it is not to he wondered if she begged the king to be cautious what steps he made in such suspected company, not knowing but the ground on which he thought to stand with most security might sink from under his feet.” ^ The king recommended the care of the city to the lord mayor, and left the management of affairs of state in the hands of a council, consisting of the lord chancellor, and the lords Preston, Arundel, Bellasyse, and Godolphin. No power was left in the hands of the queen. Father Petre had fled the country “ This day [November 17] at two,” writes the Ellis correspondent, “ his majesty marched for Windsor with the prince of Wales. They will be to-morrow at Basingstoke or Andover. The queen is still here. This is a melancholy time with us all.” James and his infant boy slept at Windsor for the last time that night. The next morning he sent the babe to Portsmouth with his nurse, under the care of the marquis and marchioness of Powis, and an escort of Scotch and Irish dragoons. His majesty arrived at Salisbury on the evening of the 19th.^ As soon as James had left the metropolis, the hireling agitators of the press endeavoured to inflame the minds of the people against Mary Beatrice, by the promulgation of paragraphs in the seditious news-letters and journals of the day, under the head of “ flying rumours,” begin- ning : — ^ “ ’Tis reported that peace had been concluded between the king and the prince, but the queen, with Peters and the rest, prevented it That the queen beat the king again, just before he went out against the prince of Orange. . . . That the queen went to the princess of Denmark in a rage, and served her as she had the king, for saying the prince of Orange would not hurt a hair of his father’s head. “ 25th. — ’Tis reported that the queen, like a true virago, beat the lord Craven, whereupon he laid down his commission.” There were persevering attempts on the part of the incendiaries of the revolution to stir up enmity between the queen and this incorruptible commander of the household troops by the promulgation of provoking speeches asserted to have been made by the one of the other. Thus, in one of the revolutionary journals of the 18th of October, the following paragraph had previously appeared : — ‘‘ ’Tis reported that the queen called the king coward ; and told him if he had not been so, the work might have been done before now. That 1 King James’s Journal. * Ibid. precursors of the Revolution. London : 3 Dalrymple, &c. printed for and sold by John Morphew, near < Collection of Old Stories, which were the Stationers’ hall, lYll. i688.] Queen^s lonely Court at Whitehall. 73 my lord Craven told the king ‘ He would never be at peace till he had lopped the queen off shorter by the head.’ ” This murderous insinuation was penned with the twofold aim of exciting hatred and animosity between her majesty and lord Craven, and provoking the vengeance of a blind mob, who had already been per- suaded that the Protestant church was in danger, through the machina- tions of a popish queen. The records of the queen’s proceedings when left alone at Whitehall, bereft of both her husband and her child during nine days of terror and suspense, are singularly barren. If the letters which she wrote to the king at that anxious period should ever be forthcoming, they would form most valuable and deeply interesting links in the history of that momen- tous time, for she writes with the truthful simplicity of a child. “ In the afternoon ” (November the 22nd), says lord Clarendon, I waited on the queen, she having appointed me this time by Mrs. Dawson. I expressed myself as well as I could on my son [lord Cornbury’s] desertion. She was pleased to make me very gracious answers. Her majesty discoursed very freely of public affairs, saying, ‘ How much the king was misunderstood by his people ; that he intended nothing but a general liberty of conscience, which she wondered could be opposed; that he always intended to support the religion established, being well satis- fied of the loyalty of the church of England.’ I took the liberty to tell her majesty, ‘ that liberty of conscience could never be granted but by act of parliament.’ The queen did not like what I said, and so inter- rupted me with saying, ‘She was very sorry my brother and I had joined in the late petition, and said the king was angry at it.’ I justified myself, by giving my reasons for so doing ; but finding her uneasy, I ended my discourse with begging her majesty to use her interest in doing good offices, and to be a means of begetting confidence between the king and his people, towards which she might be a happy instru- ment.” ^ The news came that day that the king had bled much at the nose ; and again, by express on the 24th, that the bleeding continued.^ The alarm and distress of the queen may easily be imagined, for the king was not subject to such attacks, and he was precisely the same age at which the late king, his brother, died of apoplexy. The hsemorrhage com- menced immediately after he had held a council of war on the night of his arrival at Salisbury, and could not be stopped till a vein was breathed in his arm. The nexib day, when he was on horseback viewing the plains to choose a place for his camp, it returned upon him with greater violence, and continued to do so at intervals for the next three days. He was let blood four times that week.^ James calls this “ a providential * Clarendon’s Diary, 3 Diary of Sir Patrick Hume. Reresby * Ibid. Burnet. 74 : Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1688. bleeding,” ^ because it incapacitated him from fulfilling his intention of going to visit his advanced- guard at Warminster with lord Churchill and a party of officers, who had entered into a confederacy to betray him into the hands of the prince of Orange, by taking him to the outposts ot the foe instead of his own ; and if any attempt were made for his rescue, to shoot or stab him as he sat in the chariot.^ • “Although,” says the duke of Berwick,^ “ I would wish to hide the faults that were committed by my uncle lord Churchill, I cannot pass over in silence a very remark- able circumstance. The king meant to go from Salisbury in my coach, to visit the quarter that was commanded by major-general Kirke, hut a prodigious bleeding at the nose, which came all at once on his majesty, prevented him. If he had gone, it seems, measures were taken by Churchill and Kirke to deliver him to the prince of Orange, but this accident averted the blow.” A far greater peril impended over the unfortunate prince from physical causes within, than the most subtle design which treason could devise against him. Distress of mind, com- bined with bodily fatigue, had thrown his blood into such a state of fer- mentation, that the operation of the heart was affected, and he was in imminent danger of suffusion of the brain at the moment when nature made good her powerful struggle in his favour, and the torrents of blood which burst from his nostrils, like the opening of a safety-valve in a steam-engine labouring under too high a pressure, averted a sudden and fatal result.^ The excessive loss of blood left king James in a state of death-like exhaustion, while the recurrence of the hsemorrhage every time he attempted to rouse himself for either bodily or mental exertion, bore witness of his unfitness for either, and produced despondency,® which physiologists would not have attributed to want of courage in a man who had formerly given great proofs of personal intrepidity, but to the prostration of the animal system. It was at this melancholy crisis that Churchill, the creature of his bounty and the confidant of his most secret counsels, deserted to the prince of Orange, with the duke of Grafton and other officers of his army.® James was bewildered, paralyzed. The warning cry, “ There is treachery, 0 Ahaziah !” seemed for ever ringing 1 Journal of James II. 2 See the full particulars of this atrocious design in Macpherson’s Documents, vol. i. pp, 279-81, and Carte’s Memorandum-book, vol. xii. The treacherous intention of Marl- borough, in having confederated to deliver his royai master into the hands of William of Orange, is mentioned by Sir John Keresby as if no doubt were at that time entertained on the subject, and it appears as well authenti- cated as any historical fact which is not veri- fied by documents. Carte and Macpherson produce strong evidence even of the intention of assassinating the king 3 Autobiography of the duke of Berwick ; French ed., vol. i. p. 23. ^ The death of James II. was caused by a similar attack, which produced fits of san- guineous apoplexy ; he was almost di'owned in his own blood from the repeated rupture of the overcharged vessels under the pressure of mental agitation, as will be related in the due course of events 3 Burnet. 6 “ They say lord Feversham was upon his knees two hours, begging the king to secure lord Churchill, but he would believe nothing [no ill] of him.” — Private news-letter att dressed to lady Margaret Russell, in the col- lection of his grace the duke of Devonshire, at Chiswick-lodge. i688.] King deserted hy lord Churchill and prince of Denmarh, 75 in the ear of the unfortunate king, and he knew not whom to trust. The defection of lord Churchill is said to have surprised and disheartened the king more than all that had happened. At reading the letter the fugitive had left for him, the king could not forbear heaving a deep sigh. He turned to lord Feversham, who stood near him, and said, “ Fevers- ham, I little expected this severe stroke ; but you, my lord, formed a right judgment of this person and his intentions, when you entreated me yesterday to secure him and the rest of the fugitives. I now can have no dependence on my troops, who, without doubt, are corrupted by the evil instructions of their disloyal officers.”^ There the king wronged his soldiers ; for what hindered the deserters from taking away with them their men, but the fidelity of the privates and non-commissioned officers? Perhaps the history of the world never produced such an instance of affectionate loyalty in the lower classes of an army remaining together when most of its officers had deserted. In an evil hour James fell back with his infantry to Andover. There he was deserted by his son-in-law, prince George of Denmark, and the duke of Ormonde, both of whom had supped with him, and maintained a flattering semblance up to the last moment.^ Mary Beatrice, meantime, had continued to hold her lonely court at Whitehall, surrounded by timid priests and terrified women, and to do her best to appear cheerful, and to conciliate cold friends and treacherous foes. A slight skirmish that took place between the advanced guards of the royal army and those of the prince of Orange, in which the victory has been claimed by both, was magnified into a report of an engagement in which the king had been defeated, and that he was retreating on the metropolis. The excitement and terror caused by these rumours were extreme. All the people of condition who were in town flocked to the palace to learn news, filling every gallery and antechamber. In vain did those about court endeavour to assume an air of cheerfulness. The queen never had the faculty of concealing her emotions, and when her heart was torn with conflicting apprehensions for the safety of her hus- band and her child, her pale cheeks and tearful eyes were referred to as indications of fresh misfortunes by those who, halting between two opinions, were willing to choose the side which played a winning game. One of the lively court gossips of the period writes to her friend, lady Margaret Bussell, that “ the great lady,” by which her majesty is evi- dently signified, had been heard to say, “ that she hated all the Bus- sells.”^ This passionate sally was probably elicited by the tidings of Mr. Francis Bussell’s defection, which had drawn many tears from his loyal aunt, lady Bristol, who, according to the same authority, was ^ Lediard’s Life of the Duke of Marl- ^ inedited Cavendish Papers, in the collec- borough, vol. i. p. Y7. tion of his grace the duke of Devonshire, at 2 Life of King James. Mackintosh. Lin- Chiswick, gard. Macpherson. Dalrymple. 76 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1688. greatly afflicted that so mauy of her family should be traitors to the crown. There is some reason to believe that the queen made a fruitless appeal to the feelings of the princess Anne, on the evening of the 25th. That a discussion took place on this agitating subject rests on the following circumstance, recorded in one of lord Dartmouth’s marginal notes on Burnet : “ The princess pretended that she was out of order, on some expostulations that had passed between her and the queen in a visit she received from her that night ; therefore she said she would not be dis- turbed till she rang her bell.” This was clearly a feint to gain time, and forms no specific accusation against the queen, only implying that there had been a scene, in which Anne’s temper had been ruffled. Next morning her servants, after waiting two hours longer than usual for her rising, and finding the bed open and her highness gone, ran screaming to lady Dartmouth’s lodgings, which were next to Anne’s, and told her that the priests had murdered the princess. From thence they went to the queen, and old Mrs. Buss asked her, in a very rude manner, what she had done with their mistress? The queen answered, very gravely, “ She supposed their mistress was where she liked to be, but did assure them she knew nothing of her, and did not doubt they would hear of her again very soon.” ^ This did not prevent them from spreading a report all over Whitehall that the princess had been murdered. The nurse and lady Clarendon kept up the excitement by running about like persons out of their senses, exclaiming, “ The papists have murdered the princess !” and when they met any of the queen’s servants, asked them “ what they had done with her royal highness?” — “which,” ob- serves king James, “ considering the ferment people were in, and how susceptible they were of an ill impression against the queen, might have caused her to be torn in pieces by the rabble ; but God preserved her from their malice,^ which was not able to make this contrivance more than one day’s wonder, for the next morning it was known whither the princess had gone.” A day or two after, a letter,^ which had been left by the princess on her toilet, addressed to the queen, appeared in print. The delay in its delivery might have been of fatal consequences to Mary Beatrice, at a time when so much pains were taken to infiame the minds of the people against her. This is one of the paragraphs which appeared in the journals of November : — “ 27th. — ’Tis reported that the princess of Denmark was taken out of her bed last night, and that nobody knows what is become of her; that all her wearing clothes are left behind, and that she is therefore murdered by the papists. That great lamentation is made for the loss of her, and some charge the queen with making her away. That all the 1 Note of lord Dartmouth on Burnet. 2 Journal of King James IL 3 Life of James. 1 688 .] Princess Anne and lady Churchill abscond. 77 Protestant officers in general declare that it is time for them to look to themselves, since she who was the onl}^ prop of the Protestant religion is gone. That a great lady boldly accused the queen with her death, and told her majesty she should be dealt with according to law for it. That the queen was desired to send the lady Churchill to the Tower ; but being Sunday, was persuaded to defer it till Monday. The lady Churchill being advertised of the queen’s design, thought it her best way to make her escape from court. Accordingly she sent to those ladies whose husbands were gone to the prince of Orange, to meet her at such an hour of the night, and to secure themselves by flight, which they accomplished.” Such were the truth-like but untruthful versions of the startling facts of the departure of the princess Anne and her favourite, lady Churchill. Yet, that the queen had been advised to arrest lady Churchill and lady Berkeley, there can be no doubt ; her amiable disposition and dislike to personal interference with the friends of her step-daughter induced her to temporize instead of striking a bold stroke till it was too late to pre- vent the apprehended evil, which may be considered as one of the causes of the ruin of king James’s cause. The reins of government at that perilous crisis, should have been confided to more resolute and less scrupulous hands than those of his feminine-hearted consort. When king James returned dispirited to his metropolis, the first news that greeted him there was the desertion of his daughter Anne. The blow was fatal to his cause as a king, but it was as a father that he felt it. “ God help me !” exclaimed he, bursting into tears ; “ my own children have forsaken me in my distress.”^ He entered his palace, with those bitter drops of agony still overflowing his cheeks, crying, “Oh! if mine enemies only had cursed me, I could have borne it.”^ Like Byron’s wounded eagle, the arrow that transfixed his heart had been fledged from his own wing. Lady Oglethorpe, who held an office in the royal household, told Sir John Reresby, in confidence, “ that the king was so deeply affected when the princess Anne went away, that it disordered his understanding ^ — a melancholy elucidation of his sub- sequent conduct, which cannot be explained on any rational principle.^ King James had all along been haunted with the idea that the life of the infant prince was in constant jeopardy : this fear returned upon him 1 Dalrymple. Macpherson. Echard. Rapin. with much sensibility.” I am indebted for 2 Life of King James. this fact to the new and enlarged edition of 3 Sir John Reresby’s Memoirs. the Lives of the Lindsays, by lord Lindsay, * One o' James’s most attached servants, vol. ii. p. 160; a work calculated to illustr.ate Colin earl of Balcarres, told his daughter, both the public and domestic history of lady Anne Lindsay, “that the agitations and Great Britain, in the most important as well sorrows of his unfortunate sovereign caused as pleasing manner, by a succession of lively the bursting of a blood-vessel in his head, and chronological biographies, each of which pre- that he never from that period thought him sents a faithful picture of the statistics, dis- possessed of firmness of mind or- nerve to toms, and leading events of the era, from the carry through any purpose, or even to feel thirteenth century to our own times. 78 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1688. now with redoubled force. ‘‘ ’Tis my son they aim at,” wrote the agi- tated monarch to the earl of Dartmouth, “ and ’tis my son I must endeavour to preserve, whatsoever becomes of me. Therefore I conjure you to assist lord Dover in getting him sent away in the yachts, as soon as wind and weather will permit, for the first port they can get to in France, and that with as much secrecy as may be ; and see that trusty men may be put in the yachts, that he may be exposed to no other danger but that of the sea ; and know I shall look upon this as one of the greatest pieces of service you can do me.” James wrote four timee with agonizing pertinacity to lord Dartmouth, reiterating, not only his commands, but his prayers, for him to facilitate the departure of the prince from England. This feverish state of anxiety about his boy rendered James regardless of the fatal progress of the prince of Orange, who continued to advance, unopposed, but cautiously. Neither he, nor any one else who had known the James Stuart of former years, could believe that he would abandon his realm without a blow. What strange change had come over the spirit of the chivalrous Sieve of Tnrenne, the gallant sailor-prince who had connected his name so proudl}^ with the naval glories of Great Britain? What says the most accomplished statesman and moralist of modern times ? he who, made wise by the philosophy of history and the study of mankind, guided the destinies of a mighty empire by holding the balance with a faithful hand amidst con- fiicting parties ; “ When we consider the life of a man, we none know what he may become till we see the end of his career.” ^ Mental anguish had unhinged the mind of the unfortunate king, his bodily strength having been previously prostrated by excessive loss of blood, and other circumstances, that sufficiently indicate the disarranged state of his brain at that momentous crisis. He summoned his council, his peers spiritual and temporal ; he appealed to their lo3’alty, he asked for advice and succour, and they answered in the spirit of Job’s comforters, “ that he had no one to blame but himself.” They told him of his faults, but gave him no pledges of assistance. Some of the current events, mixed with the floating rumours of the day, are thus related by the lively cor- respondent of lady Margaret Kussell, in the previously quoted letter of November 29, 1688 : — “ They say the queen is told lady Combury lines all her gowns with orange colour, and wears nothing but orange ribands. They say our young prince is to be brought back from Porchmothe [Portsmouth], and put in the archbishop of Canterbury’s hands to be bred up. You may believe it if you please. The guns came by us yesterday into town again, but the ammunition, 1 think, is lost. The king goes to Windsor to-morrow, and there, ’tis said, will encamp all his army that’s left, but the good queen stays to govern us here.” 2 The populace had been infuriated by reports artfully circulated, that the Irish regiments were to be emplo^^ed in a general massacre of the 1 Course of jivilization, by M. Guizot. 2 Cavendish MSS., by favour of the late duke of Devonshire. i 688 .] King alarmed for the safety of the queen and prince, 79 Protestants, and they began to attack the houses of the Koman catholics in the city. Terrors for the safety of his queen next possessed the tottering mind of James, and he determined that she should go to Ports- mouth, and cross over to France with their child. When he first men- tioned this project to Mary Beatrice, she declared “ that nothing should induce her to leave him in his present distress she told him “ that she was willing that the prince hex son should be sent to France, or any- where else that was judged proper for his security. She could bear to be separated from her child with patience, but not from himself ; she was determined to share his fortunes, whatever they might be. Hard- ships, hazards, and imprisonments, if borne with him, she would prefer to the greatest ease and security in the world without him.” When the king continued to urge her, she asked him “if he purposed to come away himself.'^ for if he did, and wished to send her before to facilitate their mutual escape, she would no longer dispute his orders.” ^ James assured her that such was his intention, and she made no further oppo- sition. The interest excited in France by the progress of this strange historic drama, inspired the celebrated count de Lauzun and his friend, St. Victor, with the romantic determination of crossing the channel, to offer their services to the distressed king and queen of England at this dark epoch of their fortunes, when they appeared abandoned by all the world, Lauzun was the husband of James’s maternal cousin, mademoiselle de Montpensier, and had paid the penalty of ten years’ imprisonment in the Bastille, for marrying a princess of the blood-royal without the consent of Louis XI Y. St. Victor was a gentleman of Avignon, perhaps the son of that brave lieutenant St. Victor, whose life king James had saved, when duke of York, by his personal valour at the battle of Dunkirk, thirty years before — an idea calculated to add no slight interest to the following pages. The services of these knights-errant were accepted by James as frankly as they were offered. He determined to confide to them the perilous office of conveying his queen and infant son to France, and they engaged in the enterprise in a spirit worthy of the age of chivalry. A contemporary narrative, in the archives of France, evidently written by St. Victor, supplies many additional particulars connected with that eventful page of the personal history of Mary Beatrice and her son .2 “ On the 2nd of December,” says this gentleman, “ a valeUde-chamhre of the king, named De Labadie, husband to the queen’s nurse, called me * Life of James IL, from the Stuart Papers. 2 This curious document belongs to the Chaillot collection, and is stated to be written by an Italian gentleman of the household of the contort of king James, who was engaged in the adventure ; but the moral and inter- nal evidence of every person who collates it with other accounts of the transaction is, that the author could be no other than St. Victor. 80 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [ 1688 . by bis majesty’s order, and made me a sign that the king was in the cabinet of the queen’s chamber. On entering, I found him alone, and he did me the honour to say he had a secret to communicate to me. 1 asked, ‘ If any other persons had knowledge of it ?’ He replied, ‘ Yes ; but I should be satisfied when I knew who they were.’ He then named the queen, and monsieur the count of Lauzun. I bowed my head, in token of my entire submission to his orders. Then he said to me, ‘ I design to make the queen pass the sea next Tuesday ; that day Turinie will be on guard.^ The prince of Wales will pass with her from Ports- mouth. You must come here this evening with count de Lauzun, to arrange the plan. I obeyed implicitly, and at eleven o’clock returned with count Lauzun. I found the king alone. He proposed several expedients and different modes of executing this design, but the plan I suggested alone coincided with the ideas of his majesty.” This plan was pretty nearly the same that was ultimately adopted. The king then told the queen that everything was prepared, and she must hold herself in readiness. This important secret was communicated by Mary Beatrice to her confessor and lady Strickland, and they only waited to receive an answer from lord Dartmouth to the king’s repeated letters touching the prince. It does not appear that king James meant to trust his admiral with the knowledge that the queen was to take shipping at the same tinae in the Mary yacht, which lay at Portsmouth in readiness to receive the royal fugitives. The captain of the yacht was willing to undertake the service required ; but when lord Dover came to confer with lord Dart- mouth on the subject, they both agreed that it was a most improper, as well as impolitic step, to send the heir-apparent of the realm out of the kingdom without the consent of parliament ; and lord Dartmouth had tb^ honesty to write an earnest remonstrance to the king, telling him now oad an effect it would have on his affairs. “ I most humbly hope,” says he, “ you will not exact it from me, nor longer entertain so much as a thought of doing that which will give your enemies an advantage, though never so falsely grounded, to distrust your son’s just right, which you have asserted and manifested to the world in the matter of his being your real son, and bom of the queen, by the tes- timonies of so many apparent witnesses. Pardon, therefore, sir, if on my bended knees I beg of you to apply yourself to other counsels, for the doing this looks like nothing less than despair, to the degree of not only giving your enemies encouragement, but distrust of your friends and people, who I do not despair will yet stand by you in the defence and right of your lawful successor.” ® Dartmouth goes on, after using other weighty reasons to dissuade the king from this ill-judged step, to assure him that nothing less than the 1 The husband of the queen’s lady, Pelegrina Turinie 2 Dalrymple’s Appendix, pp. 328, 329. ] 688.] Escape of queen and prince, loss of his crown, and the hazard of his that of the queen, could result from it ; the prince’s immediate return, lest th* should be interposed between Londoi touching the right chord ; James, th| sense of lord Dartmouth’s reasoning, hi safety of his boy. He despatched couriei^j nesday, with orders for lord and lady Powife ‘Jo, give orders for^ of th^/pHnOe of P 4 'ange and Eprtfinaqut^..V\ gh uncW^^i'ife^ ime tremblinglyapiS'ious for th^ PortsmouM^n hack to Whitehall. They started with their ^^S5SK;,38&l(fg^at five o’clock on a dark wintry morning, missed the two regiments, under the command of colonel Clifford, that were appointed to meet and escort his royal highness on the road, and narrowly escaped an ambush of 100 horse, sent by the prince of Orange to intercept them as they passed through a part of the New Forest, by taking another road, and reached Guildford safely on the Friday night. ^ The historian of the queen’s escape was sent by the king, with three coaches and a detachment of the guards and dragoons, to meet the prince at Guildford ; he brought him to London by Kingston, and arrived at Whitehall at three o’clock on the Saturday morning.^ “ It was St. Victor,” says madame de Sdvigne, “ who held the little prince in his cloak, when it was said he was at Portsmouth.” He had previously completed all the arrangements for the queen’s passage to France, and hired two yachts at Gravesend — one in the name of an Italian lady who was about to return to her own country, the other in that of count Lauzun. The following day, December 9th, was ap- pointed for the departure of the queen and prince ; it was a Sunday, but no sabbath stillness hallowed it in the turbulent metropolis. The morn- ing was ushered in with tumults and conflagrations: tidings of evil import arrived from all parts of the kingdom. When the evening approached, the queen implored her husband to permit her to remain and share his perils : he replied, “ that it was his intention to follow her in four-and-twenty hours, and that it was necessary, for the sake of their child, that she should precede him.” To avoid suspicion, their majesties retired to bed, as usual, at ten o’clock. About an hour after, they rose, and the queen commenced her preparations for her sorrowful journey. Soon after midnight, St. Victor, dressed in the coarse habit of a seaman, and armed, ascended by a secret staircase to the apartment of the king, bringing with him some part of the disguise which he had caused to be prepared for the queen, and told the king all was ready for her majesty’s departure. “ I then,” pursues * Dalrymple’s Appendix, pp. 328, 329. 2 Life of James II. 2 When the prince’s first-appointed escort re-entered London, they were received with hooting and pelting, and other rough usage VOL. V. by the rabble, which compelled them to dis- band, and every man to shift for himself. It was well for the royal infant that he came under other auspices. G 82 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1688. he, retired into another room, where the count de Lauzun and I waited till the queen was ready. Her majesty had confided her secret to lady Strickland, the lady of the bedchamber who was in waiting that night. As soon as the queen was attired, we entered the chamber. The count de Lauzun and I had secured some of the jewels on our persons, in case of accidents, although their majesties were at first opposed to it ; but their generous hearts were only occupied in cares for the safety and comfort of their royal infant. “ At two o’clock we descended by another stair, answering to that from the king’s cabinet, leading to the apartment of madame de Labadie, where the prince had been carried secretly some time before. There all the persons assembled who were to attend on the queen and the prince, namely, the count de Lauzun, the two nurses, and myself.”^ The king, turning to Lauzun, said, with deep emotion, “ I confide my queen and son to your care. All must be hazarded to convey them with the utmost speed to France.” Lauzun expressed his high sense of the honour that was conferred on him, and presented his hand to the queen to lead her away. She turned a parting look on the king — an eloquent but mute farewell, and, followed by the two nurses with her sleeping infant, crossed the great gallery in silence, 2 stole down the backstairs preceded by St. Victor, who had the keys, and passing through a postern door into privy-gardens, quitted Whitehall for ever. A coach was waiting at the gate, which St. Victor had borrowed of his friend signor Ferichi, the Florentine resident, as if it had been for his own use.^ ‘‘ On our way,” pursues he, ‘‘ we had to pass six sentinels, who all, according to custom, cried out, * Who goes there ?’ 1 replied, without hesitation, ‘ A friend ;’ and when they saw that I had the master-key of the gates, they allowed me to pass without opposition. The queen, with the prince, his two nurses, and the count de Lauzun, got into the coach ; but to make all sure, I placed myself by the coachman on the box to direct him. We drove to Westminster, and arrived safely at the place called the Horse-ferry,^ where I had engaged a boat to wait for me. To prev^it suspicion, I had accustomed the boatmen to row me across the river of a night under pretence of a sporting expedition, taking cold provisions and a rifle with me to give it a better colour.” That pretext, however, could scarcely be expected to pass current on the inclement night when he ventured the passage of those wintry waters with the fugitive queen and her babe. It was then, evidently, a case of life and death, and the boatmen must have been paid accordingly, for they incurred some danger 1 Narrative of the Queen’s Escape ; Chail- ^ ms. Narrative of the Queen’s Escape, lot MS. At that time, there was only London- 2 Madame de S^vigne, and MS. Narrative bridge which crossed the Thames ; West- of the Escape of the Queen and Son of James minster bridge was not then built. Ferry- II., king of England, authenticate^, by the boats were the means of communication queen ; Chaillot collection. between Westminster and Lambeth. 83 lbs 8.] Crosses the Thames at night in an open boat themselves. The night was wet and stormy, and “ so dark,” continues St. Victor, “ that when we got into the boat we could not see each other, though we were closely seated, for the boat was very small.” Thus, with literally, “ only one frail plank between her and eternity,” did the queen of Great Britain cross the swollen waters of the Thames, her tender infant of six months old in her arms, with no better attendance than his nurses, no other escort than the count de Lauzun and the writer of this narrative, who confesses, “ that he felt an extreme terror at the peril to which he saw personages of their importance exposed, and that his only reliance was in the mercy of God, by whose especial providence,” he says, “ we were preserved, and arrived at our destination.” ^ A curious print of the times represents the boat in danger, and the two gentlemen assisting the rowers, who are labouring against wind and tide. The queen is seated by the steersman enveloped in a large cloak, with a hood drawn over her head ; her attitude is expressive of melan- choly, and she appears anxious to conceal the little prince, who is asleep on her bosom, partially shrouded among the ample folds of her draperies. The other two females betray alarm. The engraving is rudely executed, and printed on coarse paper ; but the design is not without merit, being bold and original in conception, and full of passion. It was proba- bly intended as an appeal to the sympathies of the humbler classes in behalf of the royal fugitive. “ Our passage,” says the conductor of the enterprise, “ was rendered very difficult and dangerous by the violence of the wind, and the heavy and incessant rain. When we reached the opposite bank of the Thames, I called aloud by name on monsieur Dusious, the page of the backstairs, who ought to have been there waiting with a coach and six, which had been engaged by count de Lauzun. The page answered promptly, but told them that the coach was still at the inn. Thither St. Victor ran to hasten it, leaving Lauzun to protect the queen. Her majesty, mean- time, withdrew herself and her little company under the walls of the old church at Lambeth, without any other shelter from the wind and bitter cold, or any other consolation than that the rain had ceased.” ^ On that spot, which has been rendered a site of historic interest by this affecting incident, the beautiful and unfortunate consort of the last of our Stuart kings remained standing, with her infant son fondly clasped to her bosom, during the agonizing interval of suspense caused by the delay of the coacli, dreading every moment that he would awake and betray them by his cries. Her apprehension was unfounded. He had slept sweetly while they carried him in the dead of night from his palace nurse'y to the water side : neither wind nor rain had disturbed him ; he haa felt none of the perils or difficulties of the stormy passage, and he continued ' Narrative of the Escape of the Queen of Enp;land ; Chaillot MS. 2 Orleans, King James. Dalrymple. Macpherson. G 2 84 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1688. wrapt in the same profound repose during this anxious pause, alike unconscious of his own reverse of fortune and his mother’s woe. Mary Beatrice looked hack with streaming eyes towards the royal home where her beloved consort remained, lonely and surrounded with perils, and vainly endeavoured to trace out the lights of Whitehall among those that were reflected from the opposite shore, along the dark rolling river.^ The historians of that period declare, that she remanied an hour under the walls of the old church with her babe, waiting for the coach, which through some mistake never came, and that a hackey-coach was, at last, procured with difficulty. This was not the case, for St. Victor found the coach and six all ready at the inn, which was within sight of the river ; the delay, therefore, must have been comparatively brief, hut when time is measured by the exigency of circumstances, minutes are lengthened into hours. The haste and agitation in which St. Victor came to inquire after the carriage, combined with his foreign accent and idiom, excited observation in the inn-yard, where a man with a lantern was on the watch ; and when he saw the coach and six ready to start, ran out to reconnoitre, and made directly towards the spot where the queen was standing. “ I went,” says St. Victor, “ with all speed on the other side, fearing that he would recognise the party on the hank. When I saw that he was actually approaching them, I made as if I wished to pass him, and put myself full in his path, so that we came in contact with each other, fell, and rolled in the mud together. We made mutual apologies for the accident. He went hack without his light, which was extinguished by the fall, to dry himself, and I hastened to the carriage which was now near, and joined her majesty, who got into the coach. The page was to have returned, not having been intrusted with the secret ; hut having recognised the queen, his mistress, he wished to follow her. As we left the town, we encountered various of the guards. One of them said, ‘ Come and see ; there is certainly a coach full of papists !’ But God willed it so that they changed their purpose, for no one came near us. We had scarcely gone three miles, when we were overtaken by the sieur Leyhurn, one of the queen’s equerries, on horseback; he had brought another horse and boots for me, which the king had, with inex- pressible goodness, sent to enable me to perform my journey. I descended from the carriage, put on my boots, and mounted my horse in evil plight, what with my fall, my wet clothes, and the wind, which never ceased.^ “We took the way to Gravesend, distant from London twenty miles. 1 Dalrymple. after the coach to Gravesend. Lauzun had 2 This circumstance, added to various expressly requested that St. Victor should be little remarks in madame de Sevigne, identi- his assistant in this enterprise, and there was ties St. Victor as the author of the narrative, no other gentleman engaged in it. • Dangeau says St. Victor rode on horseback 85 i688.] Embarks with the prince at Gravesend. There we found three Irish captains, whom the king had sent the same day we departed to serve in the yacht. These officers, finding the queen and prince slower than they expected, advanced, as they had been ordered, to meet them, having provided themselves with a little boat which was close by the shore. Her majesty, followed by her attendants, left the coach, and stepping on a small point of land, entered the boat, and was soon rowed to the yacht, which lay at Gravesend waiting for her.” The master, whose name was Gray, had not the slightest suspicion of the rank of his royal passenger, who found a group of her faithful servants on the deck, looking anxiously out for her and the prince.^ Mary Beatrice was certainly more fortunate in her choice of friends than her lord, for there v/ere no instances of treachery or ingratitude in her household. All her ladies loved her, and were ready to share her adversity, and many, from whom she required not such proofs of attach- ment, followed her into exile. Her high standard of moral rectitude had probably deterred her from lavishing her favours and confidence on worthless flatterers, like the vipers king James had fostered. The true- hearted little company in the yacht, who had prepared themselves to attend their royal mistress and her babe to France, were a chosen few, to whom the secret of her departure had been confided, namely, the marquis and marchioness of Powis, the countess of Almonde,^ signora Pelegrina Turin ie, bedchamber woman, and lady Strickland of Sizergh, sub-governess of the prince of Wales. There were also pere Givelui, her majesty’s confessor. Sir William Walgrave, her physician, lord and lady O’Brien Clare, the marquis Montecuculi, and a page named Francois, besides the page Husious, who had insisted on following her from Lambeth. Lady Strickland and signora Turinie had started from Whitehall after the departure of their royal mistress, and performed their journey with so much speed, that they reached Gravesend before her. Most probably they went down the Thames. Pleasant as it was for the fugitive queen to recognise so many familiar faces, and happy as they were to see her majesty and the prince safe and well, after the perils of the preceding night, no greetings passed beyond the silent interchange of glances, and even in those due caution was observed. The queen was dressed to personate an Italian washerwoman, a character not quite in keeping with her graceful, dignified figure and regal style of beauty. She carried the little prince under her arm, curiously packed up to represent a bundle of linen ; ^ fortunately the bundle did not betray the deception by crying. “ It was remarkable,” observes St. Victor, “that this tender 'infant of six months old, who was * Narrative of the Escape. countess of Almonde by king James, as a 2 Anna Vittoria Montecuculi, the com- reward for her long and faithful services to panion of her childhood, and the friend of Mary Beatrice. She remained with her till her maturer years. She was one of the ladies her death, of the bedchamber, and had been created 3 Dangeau. Sevigne. 86 3 Iary Beatrice of Modena, [1688. so delicate and lively, never opened his mouth to cry or utter the slightest complaint.” The royal parents Loth insinuate that there was something very like a miracle in the discreet behaviour of their hoy on this occasion, but, doubtless, he had been well dosed with anodynes. The wind being fair for France, the sails were hoisted as soon as her majesty and her little company came on board, and the yacht got out to sea; but the wind increasing to a violent gale, the captain was compelled to come to anchor off the Downs, to avoid the danger of being driven on the coast of France, with which the bark was threatened. The queen was always ill at sea, and, in consequence of the roughness of the pas- sage, and the unwonted inconveniences to which she was exposed on this occasion, she was worse than usual. Hitherto she had performed her voyages in one or other of the royal yachts, which were properly appointed with every luxury that the gallantry and nautical experi- ence of the sailor-prince, her husband, could devise for her comfort, and he had always been at her side to encourage and support her. The case was far different now ; the yacht in which the fugitive queen and her royal infant had embarked, bore no resemblance, in any respect, to the gilded toys which James had built and named in the pride of his heart after his three beloved daughters, Mary, Anne, and Isabella — names now connected with the most painful associations. Ten days before, the king wrote his last autograph command to Pepys : — ” Order the Anne and Isabella yachts to fall down to Erith to-morrow. “J. R.” e\ddently with the intention of sending the queen and prince properly attended to France, in one or other of those vessels. The channel, however, being full of Dutch ships of war, he considered it more likely for a small sailing bark to pass unquestioned than one of his royal yachts. Mary Beatrice, directly she came on board captain Gray’s yacht, had, the better to escape observation, descended into the hold with her babe and his wet-nurse ; madame de Labadie, the other, happening to know the captain, kept him in talk till her majesty was safely below : she was followed by her two faithful countrywomen, lady Almonde and Pelegrina Turinie. The place was close and stifling, and when the gale rose, and the little ship began to pitch and toss, the queen, the nurse, and lady Almonde were attacked with violent sea-sickness in a manner that appears to have banished all ceremony. They were in such a confined space, that the indisposition of her fellow-sufferers was attended. with Very disagreeable consequences to her majesty. The baik was by no means suited for the accommodation of delicate court ladies. As her majesty had taken upon herself to personate a foreign washerwoman, no’ attention was bestowed on her comforts by the functionaries, such as 1088 .] Bough voyage. 87 they were, who superintended the arrangements for the female passen- gers. It was with great difficulty that Pelegrina Turinie succeeded, at last, in obtaining a coarse earthenware basin for her majesty’s use ; she then made the others withdraw to a respectful distance, and throwing herself at the feet of her royal mistress, supported her in her arms during her sufferings.^ Mary Beatrice told the nuns of Chaillot that she had made nine sea voyages, and that this was the worst of all. “ It was,” she said, a very doleful voyage, and I wonder still that I lived through it. I had been compelled to leave the king, my husband, without knowing what would become of him, and I feared to fall into the hands of our foes.” ^ King James had charged the count de Lauzun to shoot the captain dead, if \e betrayed any intention of putting the queen and the prince into the hands of the Dutch. Lauzun, in consequence, stationed himself by the master of the vessel, with the full determination to throw him over- board in case of treachery ; but as the master suspected not the quality of his passengers, he conducted himself the same as if they had been ordinary persons, and steered his course safely through a fleet of fifty Dutch ships of war, not one of which questioned this little bark ; and thus protected, as it were by Heaven, notwithstanding the roughness of the passage and the perils of the voyage, the fugitive queen and her infant son arrived safely on the French coast, early in the morning of Tuesday, December 11th. ^ The little prince was almost the only pas- senger on board who had not suffered from sea-sickness. He had not cried from the moment he was taken out of his cradle at Whitehall till within sight of Calais, when feeling himself pressed by hunger, for his nurse, who had been very ill all night from the effects of the rough voy- age, was unable to nourish him, he raised his voice in good earnest, with all the strength of lungs God had given him, and made himself heard all over the ship. The captain, who had not the slightest idea till then that he had either nurse or nursling on board, was much surprised on hearing these lusty outcries from the famishing prince of Wales, who redoubled his vociferations when he was brought on deck for fresh air. Whether suspecting the quality of his passengers, or wearied with the passionate screams of the hungry babe, the captain cast a significant glance on his royal highness, and exclaimed with a deep asseveration, “ I shall be right glad to set my little friend there on shore.” * At nine o’clock the queen came on deck in her cornette cap. The captain instantly recognised her, and almost prostrated himself in his surprise and consternation. “ Madam,” exclaimed he, “I shall be hanged on my return.” The queen having calmed and reassured him * MS. Memorials of Mary Beatrice d’p]ste; James II. 4 Letter from the due de Chaillot collection. Ibid. Lauzun to one of the ladies of the Richelieu 3 MS. Memorials of IViary Beatrice d’Este ; family. Papers of Marechal le due de Riche- Archives of the kingdom of France. Life of lieu. 88 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1688. with nei* eloquent thanks and handfuls of guineas, he protested “ that if he had known her, it should have cost him his life but he would have done his duty.” ^ They were all landed at Calais by means of a passage-boat, which saved the yacht from being broken on a dangerous sand-bank, near which they had run. ^ Sixteen years before, Mary of Modena had embarked in almost regal pomp at Calais, in the Koyal Catharine yacht, a virgin bride, with her mother and a splendid retinue of Italian, French, and English nobles, all emulous to do her honour ; now she landed at the same port a forlorn fugitive, wearing a peasant’s humble dress, with her royal infant in her arms, to seek a refuge from the storm that had driven her from a throne. But was she more pitiable as the wife of the maif she loved, and clasping the babe whom they both called “ the dearest gift of Heaven” to her fond bosom, than when she sailed for an unknown land, like a victim adorned for a sacrifice -from which her soul revolted ? Then all was gloom and despair in her young heart, and she wept as one, for whom life had no charms ; now her tears flowed chiefly because she was separated from that husband, whose name had filled the reluctant bride of fifteen with dismay. The reverse in her fortunes as a princess was not more remarkable than the mutation which had taken place in her feelings as a woman. Monsieur Charot, the governor of Calais, was desirous of receiving Mary Beatrice with the honours due to a queen of Great Britain, but as she expressed her determination of preserving a strict incognito^ she was conducted to a private house, where she wished to remain perfectly quiet till the arrival of her beloved husband, whom she expected to follow her in a few hours. Seating herself in a fauteuil which M. de Charot offered her, she said, “ It is three months since I have had either repose or a feeling of safety for my life or that of my son, the prince of Wales.” ^ After a little rest, she asked for pens and paper, and wrote the following pathetic appeal for sympathy and protection to her old friend, Louis XIV. Sire, “ A poor fugitive queen, bathed in tears, has exposed herself to the utmost perils of the sea in her distress, to seek for consolation and an asylum from the greatest monarch in the world. Her evil fortune pro- cures her a happiness of which the greatest nations in the world a:n ambitious. Her need of it diminishes not that feeling, since she makes it her choice, and it is as a mark of the greatness of her esteem that she wishes to confide to him that which is the most precious to her, the person of the prince of Wales, her son. He is as yet too young to unite 1 Letter from the due de Lauzun to oue of the ladies of the Richelieu family. Papers of Marechal le due Richelieu. 2 xbid. ^ Ibid. 89 i688.] Quern and p-ince at Calais. with her in the grateful acknowledgments that fill my heart. I feel, with peculiar pleasure, in the midst of my griefs, that I am now under your protection. In great affliction, I am, sir, “ Your very affectionate servant and sister, “ The Queen of England.” ^ The agitation in which Mary Beatrice wrote this letter may be traced in the sudden transition from the simple and touching description of her own desolate condition, to laboured attempts at compliments, which her Italian idiom renders obscure and hyperbolical ; and the reader will per- '••eive that she begins in the third person, and ends unconsciously in the first. She had sent St. Victor back from Gravesend to apprize her anxious consort of her embarkation. The count de Lauzun, who had been for many years under the cloud of the royal displeasure, had previously written by an express to Louis XIV. the particulars of his chivalrous achievement, stating “ that king James had enjoined him to place his queen and son in his majesty’s own hands, but that he could not have that honour, not being permitted to enter his presence.” Louis wrote a letter to him with his own hand, inviting him to return to court. “ I was informed yesterday morning,” writes Louis to Barillon, December 14th, “ by a letter from the count de Lauzun, that the queen of England had happily arrived at Calais, after escaping great dangers, and I immediately ordered M. de Beringhen, my first equerry, to set off with my carriages and the officers of my household to attend that princess and the prince of Wales on their journey, and to render them due honours in all places on their route. You will inform the king of England of what I have written to you.” ^ Before this cheering intimation reached king James, he had addressed the following letter, in behalf of his fugitive queen and son, to his royal cousin of France : — “ Sir, and my Brother, “ As I hope that the queen, my wife, and my son have last week landed in one of your ports, I hope you will do me the favour of pro- tecting them. Unless I had been unfortunately stopped by the way, I should have been with you to ask the same for myself, as well as for them. Your ambassador will give you an account of the bad state of my affairs, and assure you, also, that I have done nothing contrary to the friendship that subsists between us. I am, very sincerely, sir, my brother, “ Your good brother, “ At Whitehall, this Dec., 1688.” ® “James, R. Long, however, before this letter was penned in England, much less 1 Manuscripts of George IV., Brit. Museum ^ Lingard’s Appendix, from Barillon^s F 56. Recueil de Pieces. MS., 140 (copy) Despatches. 272 A. 3 Ibid. 90 Mary Beatrice of Modena. 1^1688. received in France, Mary Beatrice had endured agonies of suspense and apprehension from her uncertainty as to the fate of her royal husband. By one courier it was reported that he had landed at Brest, by another at Boulogne, then that he had been arrested in England ; but the most alarming rumour of all was, that the vessel in which he had embarked to follow her, according to his promise, had hmndered in a terrible storm at sea, and his majesty, with all on board, had perished.^ CHAPTER VI. The fugitive queen received the most courteous attentions during her brief sojourn at Calais from M. Charot, the governor, who sent every- thing that could conduce to her comfort to the house where she and her little company lodged. She spent her time in earnest prayer, only interrupting her devotions by frequent visits to the prince of Wales, on whom she bestowed the most assiduous attention. After two days of intense anxiety had worn awa}^ Mary Beatrice determined to proceed to Boulogne, having some reason to suppose that she would receive more certain intelligence there than could be expected at Calais, since Dover had declared for the prince of Orange. Notwithstanding her wish to remain incognito, M. Charot complimented Mary Beatrice and the prince with a royal salute at their departure.^ They left Calais on the 13th, under a discharge of cannon from the town and castle, amidst the acclamations of the people, who were now aware of the arrival of the royal guest, and manifested the most lively feelings of sympathy for her and her infant son. Half-way between Calais and Boulogne her majesty was met by a company of dragoons, who escorted her carriage to Boulogne. There she was received by the governor, the due d’Aumont, with signal marks of respect and offers of hospitality ; but as he could give her no tidings of the king her husband, her distress of mind made her prefer the retirement of a nunnery.* All direct intelligence from England being stopped, the rumours I’egarding the fate of king James were so vague and contradictory, that even Louis XIV. declared he knew not what to think. “ Meantime,” says madame de Sevigne, ‘‘ the queen of England remains at Boulogne in a convent, weeping v/ithout intermission that she neither sees nor can hear any certain news of her husband, whom she passionately loves.” The agonizing pause was at length broken. “ Strickland, the vice- admiral of England,” says the due de St. Simon, “has arrived at Calais, and we understand from him that king James has been brought back to Madame de Sevkne. 2 Narrative of the Escape. 3 Dangeau. Sevigne. i688.] Her anxiety for the king, 91 London, where, by order of the prince of Orange, he is attended by his own guards. It is thought he will escape again. Strickland has re- mained faithful to the king his master : finding that lord Dartmouth would not do anything, he demanded permission to retire from the fleet at Portsmouth, and has come in a small vessel to Calais.” The painful tidings which Sir Koger Strickland had brought were at first carefully concealed from the queen by her friends, but on the 19 th her passionate importunity for intelligence of her husband elicited the truth from a Benedictine monk, a Capuchin, and an officer who had just escaped. She implored them to tell her all they knew ; and they replied, in a sorrowful tone, “ Sacred majesty, the king has been arrested.” ^ “ I know not,” says an eye-witness, “ which was the most distressing to us, the sad news of the detention of the king, or the effect it produced on the queen our mistress.” ^ Her first words were to express her deter- mination of sending the infant prince on to Paris, while she returned to England to use what exertions she could, for her consort’s liberation, or else to share his fate, whatever it might be. Her faithful attendants had the greatest trouble to dissuade her from this wild project, by representing to her that she would only increase his troubles without being able to render him any service, and that she ought to be implicitly guided by the directions which he gave her at parting. The same day arrived the principal equerry of the king of France, with letters and sympathizing messages for the queen. She was com- pelled to compose herself to receive these with suitable acknowledg- ments. Louis XIV. had sent a noble escort, with his own carriages and horses, to convey her to the castle of Vincennes, which he had in the first instance ordered to be prepared for her reception. He had com- manded that in every town through which she passed she should be received with the same honours as if she had been a queen of France, He had, also, as the roads were almost impassable from the deep snow which covered the whole face of the country, sent a band of pioneers to precede her majesty’s carriage and mark out a straight line for her pro- gress, laying everything smooth and plain before her, so that she might be able to travel with the least possible fatigue — a piece of gallantry that was duly appreciated by the English ladies, and gratefully acknow- ledged by king James.® The faithful followers of Mary Beatrice were urgent for her to commence her journey towards Paris, dreading the possibility of her finding means of returning to England if she remained on the coast. At length she yielded to their persuasions, and departed on the 20th of December for Montrieul. The due d’Aumont and a caval- cade of gentlemen escorted her majesty from Boulogne till within three leagues of Montrieul ; there she and her little train were lodged in the ^ Journal of the Queen’s Escape ; Chaillot 2 ibid. MS, 3 Journal of James II. 92 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [ 1688 . house of the king of France. They remained there the whole of th.at day, “ and by the grace of God,” says the historian of the escape, “ learned that king James was still at Whitehall.^ The morbid state of despondency into which James sank after the departure of his queen, is sufficiently testified by the following letter, which he wrote to lord Dartmouth the next morning King James to lord Dartmouth.^ “ Whitehall, Dec. 10, 1688. “ Things having so bad an aspect, I could no longer defer securing the queen and my son, which I hope I have done, and that to-morrow by noon they will be out of the reach of my enemies. I am at ease now I have sent them away. I have not heard this day, as I expected, from my commissioners with the prince of Orange, who, I believe will hardly be prevailed on to stop his march ; so that I am in no good way — nay, in as bad a one as is possible. I am sending the duke of Berwick down to Portsmouth, by whom you will know my resolution concerning the fleet under your command, and what resolutions I have taken ; till when, 1 would not let you stir from the place where you are, for several reasons.” That morning the king spent in a state of considerable agitation, till relieved of some portion of his anxiety regarding his wife and son by the return of St Victor, who told him that he had seen her majesty, with the prince, safely on board the yacht, and under sail for France. Then he assumed a more cheerful aspect, ordered the guards to be in readi- ness to attend him to Uxbridge the next day, and talked of offering battle to his foes, though he confessed to Barillon that he had not a single corps on whose fidelity he could rely.® The same day James learned that Plymouth, Bristol, and other places had submitted themselves to the prince of Orange, and that a regiment of Scotch horse had deserted. “ Nor was there an hour,” observes Sir John Eeresby, emphatically, “but his majesty received, like Job, ill news of some sort or another ; so that, prompted by most fatal advice, the next day, being the 11th, he withdrew himself privately.” Before his departure, James ^vrote to the earl of Feversham, informing him “ that he had been compelled to send away the queen and the prince of Wales, lest their lives should be endangered by falling into the enemy’s hands, and that he was about to follow them ; that could he but have rehed on his troops, he would at least have had one blow for it.” When this letter was read to the soldiers, many of them wept.'* After a day of excessive mental fatigue and agitation, the king retired to bis lonely pillow. As he was stepping into bed, he told the earl of 1 Original MS. verified by Mary Beatrice ; * Lingard, from Barillon. Chaillot collection. ■* Kennet. 2 Dartmouth Papers. 93 1688.] King leaves London secretly. Mulgrave, ‘‘ that he had good hopes of an accommodation with the prince of Orange.” — “ Does he advance or retreat ?” asked the earl. The king owned that his adversary, continued to advance. Mulgrave shook his head, with a melancholy air.^ James had summoned his council to meet the next morning at nine o’clock, without any intention of being present it has been generally said ; but his mind was in too unsettled a state to he firm to any purpose long. About midnight he rose and dis- guised himself in a black periwig and plain clothes, left his bedroom by the little door in the ruelle, and attended only by Sir Edward Hales, who was waiting for him, descended the backstairs, and crossing privy- gardens, as the queen had done two nights before, got into a hackney- coach, proceeded to the Horse-ferry, and crossed the Thames in a little boat with a single pair of oars to Yauxhall.^ James had taken the great seal with him from Whitehall, doubtless with the idea that he might have occasion to use it on his arrival in France, to give effect to royal letters, pardons, and commissions ; but, prompted by an impulse which appears clearly symptomatic of a disorganized brain, he threw it into the river while crossing. It was well for the daughters of the unfor- tunate king that it was only one of the bauble types of regal power, and not himself, that he flung into those dark deep waters in the silence and loneliness of that melancholy voyage. Many an unsuccessful speculator in modern times has plunged himself into eternity, from causes far less exciting than those which had impelled the betrayed king and father to leave his palace ill the dead of a wintry night, with only one companion, to encounter greater perils than those from which he fled. Horses stood ready for his majesty at Yauxhall. He mounted in haste, attended by Sir Edward Hales, and conducted by his guide through by-ways, crossed the Medway at Ailesford-bridge. He found Sheldon, one of his equerries, waiting for him at Woolpeck with a fresh relay of horses. At ten o’clock in the morning he arrived at Emley-ferry, near Feversham, and embarked in a custom-house hoy, which had been hired for the passage by Sir Edward Hales. The wind was fresh, and the vessel requiring more ballast, the master ran her ashore near Sheerness. Unfortunately Sir Edward Hales, while they were waiting for the rising of the tide, sent his servant to the Feversham post-office, and as his seat was in that neighbourhood, his livery was known The man was dodged to the river side by some of the members of a gang of ruffians who had formed a profitable association for stopping the panic-stricken Koman catholics in their flight to France, and stripping them of their property. These men perceiving that Sir Edward Hales was in the hoy, 1 Sheffield duke of Buckingham’s Memoirs. his Life, by Stanier Clarke. 2 Recital of king James's departure, given ^ King James’s Journal. Ellis Correspond- oy himself to the nuns of Chaillot. See also ence. 94 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1688. came, to the number of fifty, in three boats, armed with swords and pistols, at eleven o’clock at night, and boarded the hoy just as she was beginniug to float. They leaped into the cabin, and seized the king and his two companions, with abusive language. Sir Edward Hales per- ceiving that his majesty was unknown, took Ames, the leader of the gang, aside, and putting fifty guineas into his hand, promised him one hundred more if he would allow him to escape. Ames took the money, and promised to go on shore to make arrangements for the purpose ; but advised them to give up all their valuables into his hands, as he could not answer for the conduct of his people while he was gone. The king gave him three hundred guineas, all the money he had, and his watch ; and, true to his methodical habits of business, took his receipt for those trifles. Ames went off with his prey, and then his men came rudely about the king, and insisted on searching his person for more booty. James, nevertheless, succeeded in securing his coronation ring, and three great diamond bodkins belonging to his queen.^ As soon as the tide rose high enough, the ruffians brought the hoy up to Feversham, and putting the king and his companions into a coach, carried them to an inn, amidst the yells and insults of the mob, by whom his majesty was mistaken for the chaplain of Sir Edward Hales, or father Petre. This was the third agitating night James had passed without sleep since his sorrowful parting with his wife and child. When morning came, a seaman among the crowd, who had served under him when duke of York, recognised him, and bursting into tears, knelt and begged to kiss his hand. Overpowered by this touching proof of devo- tion from his humble liegeman, James wept. The instinctive act of homage performed by the true-hearted sailor betrayed the rank of the royal prisoner. The very ruffians who had plundered and insulted him, when they saw his tears were awed and melted ; they fell on their knees, and offered to return their pillage. James bade them keep the money, and would only receive his sword and jewels. The seamen formed themselves into a guard round his person, and declared “ that not a hair of his head should be touched.” ^ James ought to have been satisfied that he had still many loyal hearts among his people. Even at Feversham something might have been done, had he been in a state of mind to take advantage of the revulsion of feeling manifested in his favour ; but he was not, and began to talk in a rambling and incoherent manner. One minute he wept, and asked “ what crimes he had com- mitted to deserve such treatment and said “ that the prince of Orange sought not only his crown, but his life and implored those present “ to get him a boat, that he might escape, or his blood would be on their heads.” Then he asked for pen, ink, and paper ; wrote, tore, wrote 1 Recital of king James’s departure ; Chail- • 2 -Journal of James IL, cited by Macpher- lot MS. * *'Son. i688.J King protected by his seameiz-. 95 again ; and at last succeeded in penning a brief summons to lord Win- cbilsead That nobleman hastened to his majesty, who then demanded to be conducted to the house of the mayor. The rabble, excited by the base publican, Edwards, objected to his removal, but the seamen carried the point, though with difficulty. The mayor was an honest man, and treated his sovereign with all the respect in his power. James talked wildly, and of things little to the purpose — of the virtues of St. Winifred’s well, and his loss of a piece of the true cross, which had belonged to Edward the Confessor.” 2 He was finally seized with another fit of bleeding at the nose, which probably averted a stroke of apoplexy or frenzy, but made him very sick and weak. The earl of Winchilsea, who had been groom of the bedchamber to his majesty when duke of York, and had married the accomplished Anne Kingsmill, a favourite maid of honour of the queen, was much concerned at the state in which he found his royal master, and besought him not to persist in his rash design of leaving England, reasoned with him on the ruinous effect such a step might have on his affairs, and at last succeeded in calming him. James made him lord-lieutenant of the county of Kent, and governor of Dover-castle, on the spot. The next day Sir James Oxenden came with the militia, under pretence of guarding his majesty from the rabble, but in reality to prevent him from escaping — a piece of gratuitous baseness for which he was not thanked by William.® For nearly two days no one in London knew what had become of his majesty. On the morning of the 13th December, an honest Kentish peasant presented himself at the door of the council-chamber at White- hallj stating that he was a messenger from King James. It was long before he could obtain attention. At last, Sheffield earl of Mulgrave being apprized of his business, insisted on bringing him in. He delivered a letter, unsealed and without superscription, containing one sentence only, written in the well-known hand of their fugitive sovereign, inform- ing them that he was a prisoner in the hands of the rabble at Feversham. The faithful messenger, who had fulfilled his promise to his royal master by delivering this letter, described, with tears, the distress in which he had left his majesty at the inn> The generous and courageous loyalty of this man of low degree ought to have shamed the titled traitor Halifax, who sat that day as president of the council, and would fain have adjourned the assembly to prevent anything being done for the relief of the king ; but Mulgrave boldly stood forth, and with a burst of manly eloquence represented “ the baseness of leaving their king to be torn to pieces by the rabble, and insisted that measures should be taken 1 Continuator of Mackintosh. fessor, which contained this relic. 2 Ibid. James was probably plundered of 3 Reresby’s Memoirs, the antique gold crucifix and rosary recently 4 Sheffield’s Memoirs, taken out of the coffin of Edward the Con- 96 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1688, for his personal safety, since, with all his popery, he was still theii sovereign.” He then proposed that lord Feversham, with two hundred of the guards, should be instantly despatched with his majesty’s coaches to invite him to return.^ Shame kept those silent who would fain have opposed this motion ; and the lords Aylesbury, Lichfield, Yarmouth, and Middleton posted down to Feversham to acquaint the king “ that his guards were coming to escort him to London, whither his friends desired him to return.” James acceded to their request, and commenced his journey. At Sittingbourne he was met by his guards and equipage, and many of his faithful friends flocked round him.^ He slept that night at Rochester, whence he despatched lord Feversham with a letter to the prince of Orange, inviting him to come to London for the purpose of an amicable treaty. Everyone was at this time in uncertainty as to what had become of the queen and the little prince. On the 15th of December, the following paragraphs appeared in the journals of the day : — “ The current news is, that the king, queen, and all the retinue that went with the king, are taken at Feversham, in Kent. Others say that the king is dead, and has never been out of town, but lies dead, poisoned, at St. James’s. Others will have it that the king is at Feversham, sick ; that he bleeds very much, and that several physicians are gone down to him, but that the queen and prince are arrived safe at Dunkirk. Others say that they are in England.” The next day, December 16, James returned to his capital, and was greeted with impassioned demonstrations of affection. As he rode through the city to Whitehall, a body of gentlemen, forming a volunteer guard of honour, proceeded him bareheaded. The bells rang joyously, and the air was rent with acclamations of people of all degrees, who ran in crowds to welcome him. These manifestations of loyalty were far more flattering, spontaneous as they were, and the free-will offerings of popular sympathy in his distress, than if he had returned from a decisive victory over the forces of the Dutch prince. Yet every art had been used to alarm the metropolis with warnings and incendiary outcries of Irish and popish massacres ; but in spite of everything, the people showed that, though they hated popery, they loved their king. White- hall was never more crowded than on that occasion, even to the royal bedchamber.® Among the numerous candidates for audience was a deputation from the freebooters at Feversham, who came to beg his majesty’s pardon for their late outrage, and to proffer once more a restitution of the gold of which they had rifled him. James not only bade them keep I Sheffield Memoirs. Macpherson. Lin- Burnet. 3 journal cf James, gard. James’s Journal. Life ditto. Burnet. Mackintosh. Kennet 3 Journal of King James. Macpherson. Echard. i688.] Heaction of popular feeling, 97 it, but gave them ten guineas to drink his health.^ Cheered by the apparent reaction that had taken place, the king exerted himself bo hold his court, and supped in state. “ I stood by him during his supper,” says lord Dartmouth, “and he told me all that had happened to him at Feversham with as much unconcernedness as if they had been the adventures of some other person, and directed a great deal of his dis- course to me, though I was but a boy.” ^ That night the metropolis was illuminated, and the streets were full of bonfires. Scarcely, how- ever, had the king retired to his bedchamber, when Zulestein demanded an immediate audience, being charged with letters from the Dutch prince, his master, requiring that his majesty should remain at Eochester while he came to sojourn in.London. James replied, “that the request came too late ; and as he was now in London, a personal inter- view could the better take place.” The only outrage that elicited an expression of anger was the arrest and imprisonment of his accredited messenger, lord Feversham ; he expressed surprise and indignation, and wrote to the prince demanding his release.^ William was now acting as king of England de facto, without any other authority than that be- stowed upon him by foreign troops and deserters. James was without money, and those who ought to have offered, unasked, to supply his exigencies, exhibited a churlish spirit truly dis- graceful. Lord Bellasyse, a Roman catholic peer, refused to assist him with the loan of a thousand pounds,^ and a base regard to purse-preser- vation thinned his presence-chamber the next morning. It was then that two noble gentlemen, Colin earl of Balcarres, and the gallant vis- count Dundee, presented themselves, charged with offers of service from his privy council in Scotland. “ They were received affectionately by the king, but observed that none were with him but some of the gentle- men of his bedchamber. One of the generals of his disbanded army entered while they were there, and told the king ‘ that most of his generals and colonels of his guards had assembled that morning, upon observing the universal joy of the city on his return ; that the result of their meeting was to tell his majesty, that much was still in their power to serve and defend him ; that most part of the disbanded army was either in London or near it, and that if he would order them to beat their drums, they were confident twenty thousand men could be got together before the end of the day.’ ® ‘ My lord,’ said the king, ‘ I know you to be my friend, sincere and honourable ; the men who sent you are not so, and I expect nothing from them.’ He then said, ‘ It was a fine day, and he would take a walk.’ None attended him but Colin and lord Dundee. When he was in the Mall he stopped and looked at ^ Ellis Correspondence. s Biographical notice of Colin earl of Bol- 2 Note in New Burnet. carres, by lord Lindsay, his descendant ; from 3 James’s Journal. the original family documents. Printed by 4 Continuator of Mackintosh. the Bannatyne Club. VOL. V. H 98 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1688, them, and asked ‘how they came to be with him, when all the world had forsaken him and gone to the prince of Orange ?’ Colin said, ‘ their fidelity to so good a master would ever be the same ; they had nothing to do with the prince of Orange.’ Then said the king, ‘ Will you two, as gentlemen, say you have still an attachment to me ?’ ‘ Sir, we do.’ ‘ Will you give me your hands upon it, as men of honour ?’ They did so. ‘ Well, I see you are the men I always took you to be ; you shall know all my intentions. I can no longer remain here but as a cipher, or be a prisoner to the prince of Orange, and you know there is but a small distance between the prisons and the graves of kings; therefore I go for France immediately. When there, you shall have my instruc- tions. You, lord Balcarres, shall have a commission to manage my civil affairs ; and you, lord Dundee, to command my troops in Scotland.’ ” ^ James amused himself during some part of this day, his last of regal authority in England, by touching for “ the evil,” having succeeded in borrowing one hundred guineas of lord Godolphin to enable him to go through the ceremonial — a piece of gold being always bound to the arm of the patient by the sovereign, and James had given his last coin to the freebooters at Feversham. That night, when the king was about to retire to bed, lord Craven came to tell him that the Dutch guards, horse and foot, were marching through the park, in order of battle, to take possession of Whitehall. The stout old earl, though in his eightieth year, professed his determination rather to be cut to pieces than resign his post at Whitehall to the Dutch ; but the king prevented that unnecessary bloodshed with a great deal of care and kindness.” 2 He sent for count Solms, the Dutch commander, and told him there must be some mistake: “Were not his orders for St. James’s?” The count produced his orders ; on which the king commanded his gallant old servant to withdraw his men. The English guards reluctantly gave place to the foreigners by whom they were superseded ; and the king retired to bed, fancying that he had purchased one night’s repose, at any rate, by his concession. Worn out by the agonizing excitement and continuous vigils of the last dreadful week, he slept, and so pro- foundly, that to have dismissed his o’erwearied spirit from its mortal tenement by one swift and sudden stroke would have been a coup de grace. A greater barbarity was committed. William sent deliberately to rouse his unfortunate uncle from that happy oblivion of his suffer- ings, with the insolent message “that it was thought convenient for him to leave his palace by ten o’clock the next morning three English peers were found capable of undertaking the commission. The plan was suggested by Halifax, who advised William to employ the Dutch officers on this ungracious errand. “ By your favour, my lords,” said 1 Biographical notice of Colin e&rl of Bal- 2 Memoirs of Sheffield d.uke of Bucking- carres, by lord Lindsiiy. bam. i688.] James driven from Whitehall, 99 William, sternly, “ the advice is yours, and you shall carry it your- selves,” naming Halifax, Delamere, and Shrewsbury. At two o’clock in the morning this worthy trio presented themselves at the door of king James’s ante-chamber, and knocking loudly, rudely demanded admittance to his presence. The earl of Middleton, who was lord in waiting, told them the king was in bed and asleep, and begged them to wait till morning. They replied, “ they came from the prince of Orange with a letter, and they must deliver it that instant.” Mid- dleton approached the royal bed, and drew back the curtain, but the king was in so sound a sleep that it did not wake him. Lord Middleton was compelled to speak loudly in his ear to dispel his death-like slumber.^ He started at first, but perceiving Middleton kneeling by him, asked what was the matter, and bade him admit the messengers. When they entered, James recognised two open enemies, Shrewsbury and Delamere, and one false servant, Halifax, whom he had employed as one of his commissioners to negotiate a treaty with the prince of Orange, and had thus afforded an opportunity of both deceiving and betraying him — another painful lesson for the royal Timon of British history on his want of attention to moral worth in those on whom he bestowed his confidence. Halifax behaved with singular disrespect to his sovereign on this occasion, and when James objected to Ham- house, the place named for him to retire to by William, as “a very ill winter-house, being damp and unfurnished,” he treated his majesty’s objections with contempt. James said he should prefer going to Bochester if he left town, and after some discussion it was so agreed — but that he should go by water, attended by the Dutch guards. When James wished to go through the city, Halifax rudely overruled that plan, by saying, “it would breed disorder and move compassion.” ^ The next morning, December 18, was wet and stormy, but though James told the three lords who had undertaken the ungracious office of expelling him from his palace that the weather was unfit for the voy- age, Halifax insisted upon it. The foreign ministers, and a few of his own peers and gentlemen, came to take leave of him, which they did with tears, and, as a last mark of respect, attended him to the water’s edge. Notwithstanding the tempestuous wind and the heavy rain, which now fell in torrents, the banks of the river were crowded with sympathizing spectators, who came to take a parting look of their unfor- tunate sovereign. At twelve o’clock James entered the barge appointed for his convoy, attended by five faithful gentlemen, who volunteered to accompany him ; viz., the earls of Arran, Aylesbury, Dumbarton, Lichfield, and lord Dundee. They were his only British escort : he had asked for a hundred of his own foot-guards, and was peremptorily denied. A hundred Dutch soldiers went in boats before and behind * Jojoae&’a Life. Clarendon Diary. Dalrymple 2 King James’s Journal, H 2 100 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1688. the royal barge, but they were so long in embarking that the tide was lost, and the king remained a full hour sitting in the barge waiting their convenience, exposed to the storm, before the signal was given for the rowers to move on.^ “ The English were very sorrowful at seeing him depart,” says Barillon ; “ most of them had tears in their eyes. There was an appearance of consternation in the people when they found that their king was surrounded by Dutch guards, and that he was, in fact, a prisoner.” Evelyn, in his diary for that day, records the departure of his royal master in these brief but expressive words : “ I saw the king take barge to Gravesend, a sad sight ! The prince comes to St. James’s, and fills Whitehall with Dutch guards.” Even then, if James could have been roused from the morbid lethargy of despair into which the unnatural conduct of his daughters and the treachery of his ministers had plunged him, his Dutch nephew might have had cause to repent of his expedition. Ministers, councillors, and general officers might be false to their oaths of allegiance, but the great body of the people were true, and eager to fight for their native sovereign if he would but have trusted to their loyalty. The greatest offence, after all, that James ever gave to this country, and for which he never has been forgiven, was, that he suffered himself to be driven away by a foreign prince without a struggle. The season of manly enterprise was past, and he felt incapable of grappling with the storm in his present state of mind and body. The unfortunate king did not arrive at Gravesend till seven in the evening, wet and weary, long after dark. He was compelled to sleep there that night, at the house of Mr. Eckins, an attorney. “ The next morning he received a blank pass from the prince of Orange, which he had desired, in order to send one over to the queen,” believing her landed before that in France, with her son.^ The expression is a little mysterious, as if the king meant to enable Mary Beatrice to return to him again, according to her earnest wish, after he had been so eager to send her away — another symptom of the unsettled state of his mind. At ten the next morning he proceeded, under the escort of the Dutch guards, to Eochester, where he took up his quarters in the house of Sir Richard Head. During the three days he remained at Eochester, ’Jurner, bishop of Ely, sent daily to entreat him not to withdraw. Every hour the king received visits from gentlemen and officers, who begged him to remain in England.® While others reasoned with calm- ness, the fiery Dundee endeavoured to rouse the desponding spirit of his heartbroken sovereign. ‘‘ Make your stand here,” said he, “ and summon your subjects to their allegiance. Give me your commission, I will undertake to collect ten thousand men of your disbanded army together, and with them I will carry your standard through England, J Journal of James II. 2 ibid, 3 ibid. Clarendon Diary. i688.] Spirited counsel of Dundee rejected 101 and drive the Dutch and their prince before you.” The king said, “ he believed it might be done, but it would cause a civil war ; and he would not do so much mischief to the English nation, which he loved, and doubted not but his people would soon come to their senses again.” ^ Instead of following the counsels of Dundee, he sat inactively, repeating to himself, “ God help me, whom can I trust ? My own children have forsaken me.” Burnet pretends that James was fixed in his determina- tion to retire to France “ by an earnest letter from the queen, remind- ing him of his promise to follow her, and urging its fulfilment in very imperious language. This letter,” Burnet says, “ was intercepted, opened, and read,^ and then forwarded to the king at Eochester.” Per- sons who could be guilty of the baseness of breaking the seal of such a letter would not hesitate at misrepresenting its contents, which were, doubtless, perfectly consistent with the feminine tenderness of the queen’s character, her adoring fondness for her husband, and her fears for his personal safety. It is certain that James had made up his mind to follow his wife and son when he quitted Whitehall the first time, and that nothing could shake his resolution. He was playing the game into the hands of his subtle adversary, who was impatient for him to be gone, and had ordered the back premises of the house at Eochester where he lodged to be left unguarded, to allow him every facility for escape. Before sitting down to supper on the evening of Saturday, December the 22nd, James drew up the well-known paper, containing the reasons which impelled him to withdraw for the present. In this declaration the unfortunate monarch sums up, in simple but forcible language, the outrages and insults to which he had been subjected by the prince of Orange ; but when he alludes to the unprincipled aspersion on the birth of his son, his style becomes impassioned. “ What had I then to expect ?” he asks, “ from one, who by all arts had taken such pains to make me appear as black as hell to my own people, as well as to all the world besides ?” His concluding words are neither those of a tyrant nor a bigot : “ I appeal,” says he, “ to all who are considering men, and have had experience, whether anything can make this nation so great and fiourishing as liberty of conscience ? Some of our neighbours dread it.” This paper James gave to the earl of Middleton, with orders that it should be printed as soon as he was gone. He then took leave of his few faithful followers and retired to bed. Between twelve and one on the morning of the 23rd he rose, and attended only by his natural son, the duke of Berwick, Mr. Biddulph, and De Labadie, the husband of the prince of Wales’s nurse, left the house by a back stair and postern 1 This conversation was overheard by historian. “ There was, at least, as much David Middleton, a servant of the earl of of the barbarian as the politician, in breaking Middleton, while he was mending the fire, that most sacred seal."' — Continuator of Mac- aiid by him afterwards repeated to Carte the kintosh. 102 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [i6s8. door. At parting, James drew a ring from his own finger and placed it on that of his loyal host, Sir Eichard Head, as an acknowledgment of the dutiful and affectionate attention he had received while under his roof, with these pathetic words : “ This is the only present an unfor- tunate king is able to bestow.” ^ His majesty found captain Macdonald in the garden, ready to guide him to the place where captain Tre- vanion waited with a boat. These two faithful officers rowed his majesty and his companions to a sorry fishing-smack that lay a little below Sheerness. In this vessel king James crossed the wintry waves, and, as usual, encountered very rough weather, many hardships, and some danger .2 The circumstances under which. James left England have been illustrated by a noble young author of our own times in a pathetic poem, in which the following striking lines occur : — “We thought of ancient Lear, with the tempest overhead, Discrowned, betrayed, abandoned, but nought could break his will, Not Mary, his false Regan — nor Anne, his Goneril.” 3 The tragedy of real life is sometimes strangely mingled with circum- stances of a comic character, which appear the more ridiculous, perhaps, from the revulsion of feeling they are apt to produce on persons labour- ing under the excitement of excessive grief. King James, in the midst of his distress during this melancholy voyage, felt his mirth irresistibly excited, when he saw the brave captain Trevanion attempting to fry some bacon for his refection in a frying-pan that had a hole in it, which that gallant officer was compelled to stop with a pitched rag ; at the sight of this expedient the king gave way to immoderate laughter, which was renewed when the captain proceeded to tie a cord round an old cracked can, to make it in a condition to hold the drink they had pre- pared for him. A keen perception of the ludicrous is often a happy provision of nature to preserve an overcharged heart from breaking under the pressure of mortal sorrow. It was well for the fallen majesty of England that he could laugh at things which were melancholy indica- tions of his calamitous reverse of fortune. The laughter, however, was medicinal, for he ate and drank heartily of the coarse fare that was set before him, a^nd always declared that he never enjoyed a meal more in his life. James landed at the small village of Ambleteuse, near Boulogne, at three o’clock in the morning of December the 25th, being Christmas'day, o.s.'* 1 The ring, which is a fair emerald set 3 From Historic Fancies, by the hon. round with diamonds, has been carefully pre- George Sydney Smythe, M.P., a volume re- served by the family of Sir Richard Head, plete with noble and chivalric sentiments, and is at present in the possession of his ^ Mary Beatrice had kept that festival ten descendant the hon. Mrs. Herbert, to whom I days before, according to new style, while at am indebted for the communication of this Boulogne. The dates used by the historian interesting fact, which has also been noticed of her journey to St. Germains belong to that by the late Sir Egerton Brydges, in his edition computation, which had been adopted in of Collins’s Peerage, under the article Car- France ; but to avoid confusion, they are in narvori: this memoir made conformable to the dat^ 2 Journal of James Il.’s Life. used by English historians. 103 i 688 .] Fugitive queen at Beauvais, Mary Beatrice, meantime, whom we left at Montrieul, reached Abbe- ville on the 21st, where she slept and passed the Saturday, which was kept in France as New-year’s day, n.s. She arrived at Poix on the Sunday at two o’clock : she was there apprized that Louis XIV. intended to assign one of the most stately palaces in France, the chateau of St. Germains, for her residence. When her majesty approached Beauvais, the bishop and all the principal people in the town came out to meet and welcome her. “ The same had been done,” pursues our authority, “ in all other places through which she passed ; but this bishop ofifered particular marks of respect and generous attention to the royal fugitive, and she remained at Beauvais till Tuesday, the 25th.^ “ One could not have better or more plentiful cheer,” continues the writer of this letter, ‘‘ than the bishop afforded to the English, her followers. But with people of their nation, misfortunes never take away their appetites, and all pity seems thrown away on such adventurers, who recounted with the utmost sang froid the reverses of their affairs. Nothing prevented them from eating, nor drinking, nor laughing. I must tell you, of one of these gentle- men, who, while he was disca^sing the utter loss of his places and of all his property, just in the tone that you would read or recite an historical fact of the last age, continued to devour a turkey poult and half a good-sized ham.” ^ On entering the cathedral of Beauvais, the queen exclaimed, “ Oh, what a beautiful church !” The bishop observed, with great humility, “ More distinguished for height and grandeur of the edifice than by the merit of the chapter who serve in it.” To which the queen made a polite rejoinder. After dinner, she went to the Filles de St. Francois. She was more familiar and confidential with the nuns in her discourse. She told them “ that neither the great reverse she had suffered, the loss of a throne, nor all the hardships and dangers she had undergone, had troubled her like the separation from the king her husband, and her uncertainty as to his fate. If the king would,” she said, ‘‘ have dis- sembled his religion, or had adopted any other than the Catholic, he would have been the most prosperous of princes and the most beloved that ever reigned in England ; but for conscience’ sake he had preferred, to that, being an unfortunate sovereign.” “ She speaks French better than madame,” continues our authority, “ but with an English rather than an Italian accent. When at a loss for a word, she uses Latin. She has profited much by reading. On leaving the cathedral, where she attended a second service, she knelt to the bishop of Beauvais for his blessing. When she entered her coach, she told him ‘ she knew how highly he was esteemed and valued by the king her husband, who would, she was assured, consider himself greatly indebted to him for the kind and honourable reception she had received.’ * Letter of the due de Lauzun ; Richelieu Papers. 2 Ujid. 3 Letter In the Richelieu Papers. 104 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1688. The poor queen was, however, thrown into such deep dejection hy the unfounded reports of slaughters and excitements in England, that to soothe her with the idea of her consort’s safety, she was told intelligence had been received that he had embarked in a ship of fifty guns, one of the finest in his service. “ She flatters herself,” continues the writer of this letter, “ that he will land on the coast of Normandy or Bretagne. This ray of hope has brightened the complexion and animated the demeanour of the queen.” While crossing the place on her departure from the cathedral, preparatory to quitting the hospitable town of Beauvais, she was stopped by a courier, who had been sent by ‘the king to inform her he had left London. She was transported with joy at these tidings, which she regarded as confirmatory of the good news she had previously heard, and manifested the utmost delight.^ ‘‘ Her little prince took his part in it. When he quitted Beauvais, he was laughing and leaping in the arms of his nurse ; the queen tenderly smiling on him, gave him the surname of Jacques le Pdlerin. The babe has sustained all the hardships of the escape by sea and land, and the change of climate, in health and safety — him whom they dared not move from one apartment to another, at the palace of St. James, without a consultation of physicians.” ^ As soon as Louis XIY. heard of the landing of king James, he de- spatched one of his equerries, M. le Grand, to inform the anxious queen of that event, and to present his complimentary greetings to her. The dauphiness sent the due de St. Simon with friendly messages from her- self. They found the royal traveller at Beaumont. The tidings of her husband’s safety appeared to console her for all her misfortunes ; raising her eyes to heaven, she exclaimed, “ Then I am happy !” and praised God aloud, in the fulness of her heart.^ Mindful, however, of the ceremonial observances that were expected of her, she composed herself sufficiently to return suitable acknowledgments for the friendly attentions and courtesies of the French sovereign, the dauphin, and the dauphiness, which she did with much grace, and expressed herself deeply grateful for all the king of France had done for her. The gentlemen then with- drew, leaving her to the free indulgence of her natural emotions, while she wrote to the king, her husband, a letter, which she despatched by Mr. Leyburn, one of her equerries, who had joined her after her retreat to France. “ When we returned,” says monsieur Dangeail, who was one of the deputation from the court of France, “ we found her majesty still transported with joy.” The sudden transition from misery to happiness is always trying to a sensitive temperament. Mary Beatrice had been enabled to subdue the violence of her grief by pious resignation to the will of God, and had borne up under fatigue of mind and body, and the tortures of suspense, but the revulsion of feeling was too much 1 Letter in the Richelieu Papers. 2 3 ]yis. Narrative of the Escape. Dangeau. 105 i688.] Met and loelcomed hy Louis XIY, for her corporeal powers. She was attacked with spasmodic hysterics, and for two hours her agonies were so excruciating, as to cause great distress and some alarm to her faithful little retinue ; but after a time the spasms abated, and she became composed.^ The duchess of Portsmouth,^ who was at the court of France with her son the duke of Kichmond, had the effrontery to propose coming to meet the exiled queen of England, but the due de Lauzun sent word to her, “ that her majesty would see no one till she arrived at St. Germains.” Mary Beatrice made an exception from this rule, in favour of ladies whose rank and virtues qualified them to offer her marks of sympathy and attention. When the duchess of Nevers came to pay her a visit at Beaumont, she received her most affectionately and kissed her. In the afternoon of December 28, Mary Beatrice drew near St. Germains. Louis XIV. came in state to meet and welcome her, with his son the dauphin, his brother, monsieur, all the princes of the blood, and the officers of his household : his cavalcade consisted of a hundred coaches and six. He awaited the approach of his royal guest at Chatou, a picturesque village on the banks of the Seine, below the heights of St. Germains-en-Laye.® As soon as her majesty’s drew near, Louis, with his son and brother, descended from his coach and advanced to greet her, supposing that she had been in the first carriage, which he had sent his officers to stop. That vehicle, however, only contained the prince of Wales, his sub-governess lady Strickland, and his nurses. They all alighted out of respect to the most Christian king, who took the infant prince in his arms, kissed and tenderly embraced him, and made the unconscious babe a gracious speech, promising to protect and cherish him.'* Louis is said to have been struck with the beauty of the royal infant, on whom he lavished more caresses than he had ever been known to bestow on any child of his own. The queen had in the meantime alighted from her coach, and was advancing towards his majesty. Louis hastened to meet and salute her. She made the most graceful acknowledgments for his sympathy and kindness, both for herself and in the name of the king her husband. Louis replied, “ that it was a melancholy service he had rendered her on this occasion, but that he hoped it would be in his power to be more useful soon.” He presented the dauphin and monsieur to her in due form, then led her to his own coach, where he placed her at his right hand. The dauphin and monsieur sat opposite to their majesties. “ The 1 Narrative of the Escape. intercession of the duke of Richmond she 2 This impudent woman had set her mind finally carried her point, a circumstance on obtaining an appointment as lady of the deeply to be regretted. bedchamber to the virtuous consort of James ^ Madame de Sevignd. Dangeau. II., though she had given her great annoy- Sdvigne. Dangeau. Journal of James. ancO'when duchess of York, and also by dis- History of the Escape of the Queen, in the seminating the base slanders touching the archives of France, birth of the prince of Wales. Through the 106 Mary BMrice of Modena, [ibss, queen,” says Dangeau, had with her the marchioness of Powis and the signora Anna Vittoria Montecuculi, an Italian, whom she loves very much.” ^ And thus in regal pomp was the exiled queen of England conducted by Louis XIY. to the palace of St. Germains-en-Laye, which was henceforth to he her home. Cheered by the courteous and delicate attentions with which she was treated by the sovereign of France, and anticipating a happy reunion with her beloved consort, Mary Beatrice smiled through her tears, and chatted alternately with the king, the dauphin, and monsieur, as they slowly ascended the lofty hill on which the royal chateau of St. Germains is seated. She always called Louis sire,” though the late queen, his wife, and the dauphiness only addressed him as “monsieur.” When they alighted in the inner court of the palace, Louis, after placing everything there at her command, led her by the hand to the apartments appropriated to the use of the prince of Wales, and newly fitted up for him, which were those of the children of France. Here the king took leave of her majesty :• she offered to attend him to the head of the stairs, but he would by no means permit it.^ Monsieur and madame Montechevereul, the state keepers of the palace, were there to do the honours of the household to the royal guest, who was treated and served in all respects as a queen. Her apartments were sumptuously furnished ; nothing had been omitted that could be of use or comfort to her ; the most exquisite taste and munificence had been displayed in the arrangement of her dressing-room, and especially her table. Among the splendid toilet service that courted her accept- ance, Mary Beatrice saw a peculiarly elegant casket, of which Tourolle, the king’s upholsterer, presented her with the key. This casket con- trined 6000 Louis-d’ors ; a delicate method devised by the generous monarch of France for relieving her pecuniary embarrassments. Mary Beatrice, however, did not discover the gold till the next morning, for notwithstanding the significant looks and gestures with which Tourolle presented the key of this important casket, her heart was too full to permit her to bestow a single thought upon it that night. King James had sent his son Berwick express, to earn her future favour by bringing the intelligence that he was to sleep at Breteuil, and would arrive at St. Germains towards the close of the following day.^ Mary Beatrice wept and laughed alternately with hysterical emotion at these tidings. The next morning Louis and the dauphin sent to make formal inquiries after the health of the royal traveller and her son. Overcome by all she had gone through, she was compelled to keep her chamber. At six in the evening, the king of France, with the dauphin, monsieur, and the due de Chartres, came to pay her majesty a visit. She was in bed, but admitted these distinguished guests : Louis came and seated himself on 1 Madame de Sevigne. Dangeau. Appendix. Dangeau. Sevigne. 2 Newsletter from Versailles, Lingard’s 3 Daugeixu. Sevigne. MS. Memorials. 107 ibss.j Joined hy her consort at St, Germains, lier bolster, the dauphin stood near him, without any ceremony, chatting in the friendly and affectionate manner which their near relationship to the king, her husband, warranted. The chamber was full of French courtiers, who had followed their sovereign.^ In the course of half an hour, Louis was informed that the king of England was entering the chateau, oh which he left the queen, and hastened to greet and welcome his unfortunate cousin. They met in the hall of guards ; James entered at one door as Louis advanced to meet him by the other. James approached with a slow and faltering step, and, overpowered with his grateful sense of the generous and friendly manner in which his queen and son had been received, bowed so low, that it was supposed he would have thrown himself at the feet of his royal kinsman if Louis had not prevented it, by taking him in his arms and embracing him most cordially three or four times. They conversed in a low voice apart for about a quarter of an hour. Then Louis pre- sented the dauphin, monsieur, and the cardinal de Eenzi to his majesty ; and after this ceremonial, conducted him to the apartment of the queen, to whom he playfully presented him with these words : “ Madame, I bring you a gentleman of your acquaintance, whom you will be very glad to see.” Mary Beatrice uttered a cry of joy, and melted into tears ; and James astonished the French courtiers, by clasping her to his bosom with passionate demonstrations of affection before everybody. “ The king of England,” says one of the eye-witnesses of this touching scene, ‘‘ closely embraced the queen his spouse in the presence of the whole world.” 2 Forgetting every restraint in the prospect of beholding that fair and faithful partner of his life once more, after all their perils and sufferings, James remained long enfolded in the arms of his weeping queen. Kind and sympathizing as Louis XI Y. was to the royal exiles, there was a want of consideration in allowing any eye to look upon the raptures of such a meeting. As soon as the first gush of feeling had a little subsided, Louis led James to the apartments of the prince of Wales, and showed him that his other treasure was safe, and surrounded with all the splendour to which his birth entitled him. He then reconducted his guest to the ruelle of the queen’s bed, and there took his leave.^ James offered to attend his majesty of France to the head of the stairs, but Louis would not permit it. “I do not think,” said Louis, “that either of us know the proper ceremonial to be observed, on these occa- sions, because they are so rare, and therefore I believe we should do well in waiving ceremony altogether.” It was noticed, however, that Louis, with his usual scrupulous attention to courtesy, always gave James the right hand. On taking his final leave, he added, “It is to-day like a visit to me. You will come and see me to-morrow at Versailles, where ' S^vignd. Dangeau. News-letter from Versailles, in Lingard’s Appendix. 2 Letter from Versailles, in Lingard’s Appendix. Dangeau. 3 ipid. Sevigne. 108 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [iGss. I shall do the honours ; and after to-morrow I shall come again to visit you, and as this will be your home, you shall treat me as you like.” Louis added to these delicate marks of friendship the welcome present of ten thousand pounds, which he sent to his unfortunate kinsman the following day, in the way least calculated to wound his pride. The chateau of St, Germains, which was assigned by Louis XI Y. for the residence of the exiled king and queen of England was one of the most beautiful and healthy of all the palaces of France. James was already familiar with the place, having passed some years there in his boyhood and early youth, when a fugitive in France, with the queen his mother and the other members of his family. The remembrance of his father’s death, the sorrows and vicissitudes that had clouded the morning of his days, must have been painfully renewed by returning to those scenes, after an interval of eight-and- twenty years, as a fugitive once more, and the only survivor of those who had been the companions of his first adversity. Mother, brothers, sisters, all were dead ; nearer and dearer ties of kindred, his own daughters — those who owed to him not only their being, but the high place they held in the world, the legiti- macy which, in consequence of his honourable treatment of their mother, invested them with the power of injuring him — had proved false. The son of his beloved sister the princess of Orange, his own son-in-law, had driven him from his throne, and his wife and infant son were involved in his fall ; yet James bore these calamities with a degree of philosophy which not .only astonished but offended the French nobility, who, excitable themselves, expected to see the fallen king display the same emotions as the hero of a tragedy exhibits on the stage. They called his calm endurance coldness and insensibility, because they could not understand the proud reserve of the English character, nor appreciate the delicacy of that deep sorrow which shrinks from observation. It was the wish of James and his queen to live as private persons at St. Germains, in that retirement which is always desired by the afflicted, but it was not permitted. The sensitive mind of Mary Beatrice received no pleasure from the splendour with which the munificence of Louis XIY. had surrounded her ; she felt the state of dependence to which herself and her unfortunate lord were reduced as a degradation, and every little incident that served to remind her of it gave her pain. Her bedchamber was hung with a superb set of tapestry from the designs of Le Brun, and the upholsterer had, with artistical regard to pictorial effect, chosen the alcove as the fittest place for the piece representing the tent of Darius. The fallen queen of England could not repose herself on her bed, without having the pathetic scene of the family of that unfortunate king throwing themselves at the feet of Alexander always before her eyes. She felt the analogy between her situation and theirs so keenly, that one day i688.] Fidelity of her old coachman, 109 she exclaimed in the anguish of her heart, Am I not sensible enough of our calamities without being constantly reminded of them by that picture ?” One of her ladies of the bedchamber repeated this observa- tion to the French officers of the household, and they instantly removed the tahleau of the royal suppliants, and replaced it with another piece representing a triumph. The queen reproved her faithful attendant for mentioning a passionate burst of feeling that appeared like a reproach to her generous benefactor, as if she imagined him capable of insulting her on her adversity,^ It is possible that she might suspect some little ostentation on the part of his officers in the choice of the tapestry. The court of St. Germains was arranged by Louis on the model of his own ; the exiled king and queen found all proper officers of state, gentle- men ushers, and guards ready to receive them. The French state officers and attendants were quickly superseded by the noble English, Scotch, and Irish emigrants who followed the fortunes of the exiled king and queen. The fidelity of the queen’s household was remarkable. It is an interesting fact, that almost all her attendants applied to the prince of Orange for passports to follow her into France. William granted the passes, but outlawed all who used them, and confiscated their property. An elegant poet of the present times alludes to the sacrifices incurred by one of the attached adherents of James’s cause in these pretty lines : — “Yet who for Powis would not mourn, That he no more must know His fair red castle on the hill, And the pleasant lands below ?” 2 Whole families preferred going into exile together, rather than to transfer their allegiance to William and Mary.^ This generous spirit was by no means confined to the Koman catholic aristocracy. Instances of fidelity, equally noble, are recorded of members of the church of England, and even of menial servants in the royal household. The queen’s old coachman, who had formerly served Oliver Cromwell in that capacity, followed his royal mistress to St. Germains, was reinstated in his office, and continued to drive her state coach till he died at an ad- vanced age. Those ladies of the bedchamber who were compelled to remain in England with their husbands and families, like lady Isabella Wentworth and Mrs. Dawson, rendered their royal mistress the most important service of all, by continuing to bear true witness of her, when it became the fashion to calumniate and revile her. They courageously confuted her slanderers on more occasions than one. Even the daughter 1 MS. Memorials of Mary Beatrice. made over his Westmoreland estates to two 2 The hon. George Sydney Smythe. of his servants, Thomas Shepherd, the stew- 3 The old cavalier knight-banneret, Sir ard, and Robert Came, for the nominal sum Thomas Strickland, of Sizergh, whose lady, of 500i. The property was thus preserved to the sub-governess of the little prince, had his eldest son by the integrity of these two accompanied her royal charge to France, fol- honest men, who might easily have kept the lowed her with their four boys, having first estates from proscribed JacoLites. 110 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [ibss. of the false Sunderland, the young countess of Arran, bore constant testimony to the legitimacy of the little prince and of the virtues of the exiled queen, during the brief period she survived the revolution. Louis XIV. allowed James and Mary Beatrice 50,000 francs per month for the support of their household. They objected at first to the largeness of the sum ; but found it, in the end, insufficient to enable them to extend adequate relief to the necessities of their impoverished followers. At the first court held by the exiled king and queen at St. Germains, James looked old, and worn with fatigue and suffering. Of Mary Beatrice it was said by madame de S4vign§, “The queen of England’s eyes are always tearful, but they are large, and very dark and beautiful. Her complexion is clear, but somewhat pale. Her mouth is too large for perfect beauty, but her lips are pouting, and her teeth lovely. Her shape is fine, and she has much mind. Everything she says is marked with excellent good sense.” It was the desire of Louis XI Y. that the dauphiness, and the other princesses and ladies of the court of France, should pay a ceremonial visit of welcome to the queen of Eng- land the next day, but this was an object that required more than his power to accomplish. The dauphiness, fearing that a fauteuil would not be accorded to her in the presence of her Britannic majesty, feigned sickness as an excuse for not performing the courtesy prescribed by her august father-in-law to his royal guests. She kept her bed obstinately for several days. Madame, the wife of the king’s brother, said “ she had a right to a fauteuil on her left hand, and that she would not go unless that were allowed neither would the duchesses, without being per- mitted to have their tabourets, the same as in their own court. Monsieur was very sulky, withal, because the queen had not kissed him. Mary Beatrice, though naturally lofty, behaved with much good sense on this occasion : she referred the matter entirely to the decision of the king of France. “ Tell me,” said she to Louis, “ how you wish it to be. I will salute whomsoever you think proper, but it is not the custom in Eng- land for me to kiss any man.” The king decided that it should be arranged according to the etiquette of France. Madame de Sevigne, a iew days after, records the important fact, that “ the queen of England had kissed monsieur, and that he was, in consideration of having re- ceived that honour, contented to dispense with a fauteuil in the presence of king James, and would make no further complaints to the king his brother.” Mary Beatrice and her lord, though deprived of the power and con- sequence of crowned heads, found themselves more than ever fettered with those rigid etiquettes which are certainly not among the least of of the pains and penalties of royalty. The princesses and female nobility of France were scarcely sane on the point of precedency, and the impor- tance that was placed by those full-grown childi'en on the privilege of i688.] Perplexing points of precedency. Ill being entitled to the distinction of a tabouret was ludicrous. It was an age of toys and trifles, but the irritation and excitement caused by frivolous contentions was to the full as great, as if the energies of the parties concerned had been employed for objects worthy of the attention of rational beings. The courts of the Stuart sovereigns, both in Scotland and England, had been conducted on more sensible principles ; but at St, Germains, James and his queen were compelled to observe the same formal ceremonials and etiquettes as in the court of France, or they would have been treated as if they had fallen, not only from regal power, but royal rank. It was settled that the dauphin should only sit on a pliant^ or folding-chair, in the presence of King James ; but when in company with the queen alone he should be entitled to a faideuil} The arrangement of this knotty point did not free the royal exiles from perplexing attacks on their patience in their new position. The princes of the blood had their pretensions also, and it was a much easier matter to satisfy them than their ladies. The princesses of the blood were three or four days before they would attend the court of the queen of England, and when they went there the duchesses would not follow them. They insisted on being treated, not only according to the custom of the court of France, where they had the privilege of sitting in the presence, of the sovereign, but according to that of England also, where the monarch kisses ladies of their rank on their presentation. In a word, the duchesses of France demanded to be kissed by king James, and to sit in the presence of his queen. Notwithstanding the pleasing impression made by the graceful and conciliatory manners of Mary Beatrice, and the general interest excited by her beauty and her misfortunes, a party, founded on jealousy, was excited against her among the French ladies by the princesses. King James returned the visit of the French sovereign in state December 29, and was received by that monarch with all the honours due to royalty. Louis presented him in form to the dauphiness. She stood at the door of her chamber, with her ladies, to receive him, and they conversed for a few minutes. James then called on the dauphin, and talked like a connoisseur of the fine pictures, cabinets, china, and other articles of virtu, with which his apartments were decorated. His majesty afterwards visited his brother-in-law monsieur, madame, and all the princes of the blood. The next day, the dauphin came to St. Germains, and made formal state calls on James, his queen, and the infant prince of Wales. Mary Beatrice ordered that he should have a fauteuil in her presence, but a lower one than that in which she sat. The dauphiness pleaded illness as an excuse for not accompanying him. Mary Beatrice accepted the apology, and wisely determined to waive ceremony by paying the first visit. ^ She told the dauphin, that “she I Memoirs and Anecdotes of Louis XIV. and Louis XV. 2 Dangeau. Sevigne. 112 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1688. only delayed going to Versailles, to pay her compliments to the king and the dauphiness, till she could procure a dress suitable for the occa- sion.” In making her toilet for the court of Versailles, she knew that she must pay due attention to the prevailing modes. On this occasion she was happily so successful that she had the good fortune to please the most fastidious of the French ladies. “ When the queen of Eng- land went to visit the dauphiness,” says madame de Sdvignd, with enthusiasm, “ she was dressed to perfection. She wore a robe of black velvet over an elegant petticoat ; her hair was beautifully arranged ; her figure resembles that of the princess de Conti, and is very majestic.” The king of France came himself to hand her from her coach ; he led her into his presence-chamber, and placed her in a chair of state, higher than his own. After conversing with her about half an hour, Louis conducted her to the apartment of the dauphiness, who came to the door to receive her. The queen expressed some surprise. “ I thought, madame,” said she, “I should have found you in bed.?” — “Madame,” replied the dauphiness, “ I was resolved to rise, that I might properly receive the honour done me by your majesty.” Louis XIV. withdrew, because the mighty laws of court etiquette forbade his daughter-in-law to sit in an arm-chair in his presence. When he had departed, the important, ceremony of taking seats ’was successfully achieved. The exiled queen was inducted into the place of honour, the dauphiness seated herself in a fauteuil on her right hand, madame the duchess of Orleans on her left, and the three little sons of the dauphiness were perched in three arm-chairs ; the princesses and duchesses made their appearance, and occupied their tabourets round the room. In short, the pretended invalid held a crowded court in her bedchamber on this occa- sion, and was much elated at having succeeded in inducing the queen of England to pay her the first visit. His majesty of France being pri- vately informed when Mary Beatrice rose to take her leave, came, with his ’wonted courtesy, to lead her down-stairs and place her in her coach. When Louis returned to the apartment of the dauphiness, he was elo- quent in his commendations of their royal guest, and, evidently ith a view of suggesting to his German daughter-in-law that she would do well to imitate so perfect a model of regal grace and dignity, he em- phatically added, See what a queen ought to be !” He praised her charming manners and her ready wit, and expressed his admiration of her fortitude in adversity, and her passionate love for her husband.' From that hour it became the fashion in the court of France to cite the exiled queen of England as the perfection of grace, elegance, beauty, and female virtue. The grand monarque had said it, and from his decision there could be no appeal. The French duchesses, who to please the dauphiness had protested that, if the receptions of the court of St. 1 Sevigne. 1 68 8 - 9 .] Visits of the French princesses, 113 Germains wei*e to be modelled after the customs of that of Versailles, nothing should induce them to kiss the hem of the queen of England’s robe, were now ready to kiss her feet.^ The next day, at four o’clock precisely, Mary Beatrice was favoured with a solemn state- visit from the duchess of Orleans, her daughters, the duchess of Guise, and all the princesses of the blood. She kissed them all, gave a fauteuil to the duchess of Orleans and folding chairs to the princesses. As far as regarded their own claims, the demi-royalty of France were satisfied ; but they took the liberty of requesting the queen to explain why she permitted the signora Anna Montecuculi to occupy a tabouret in her presence, as she had not the rank of a duchess. Her majesty condescended to explain, that she allowed her that privilege as the lady in waiting.^ These ladies, who were so rigid in their notions of the importance attached to chairs and stools, made no exception against the appearance of the infamous duchess of Portsmouth, who also occupied a tabouret in that exclusive circle, having, with the persevering effrontery of her class and character, suc- ceeded in obtaining an appointment as one of the ladies of the bed- chamber in the household of James’s consort at St. Germains. James was compelled to bestow several shadowy titles on his followers, to enable their ladies to hold appointments in his queen’s bedchamber, and to sit in presence of the French court. He made lord Powis a duke, to entitle his lady to a tabouret, “ There are four of the queen of Eng- land’s ladies,” says Dangeau, “whom she will have seated, when there are either princesses or duchesses of France present. These are lady Powis, as an English duchess ; madame Montecuculi, whom she has made countess of Almonde, as a lady of honour ; and the ladies Sussex and Wald egrave, as the daughters of king James the first named was, however, the daughter of Charles II. After the dauphiness had returned the visit of the English queen, her majesty came again to Versailles to call on her ; she arrived precisely at four o’clock, the orthodox hour. The king received her this time in the hall of guards, led her into the state presence-chamber, and gave her the place of honour. They conversed a long time together, then he led her by the hand, through the gallery, to the door of the apartments of the dauphiness, who received her there, and conducted her into her chamber. They were getting pretty well acquainted now, and their conversation was easy and lively. When her majesty retired, the dauphiness attended her as far as the guard-room, where they parted, mutually satisfied with each other. Then the queen paid her ceremonial visit to the dauphin, who came to receive her in his guard-room, and conducted her to his presence-chamber, where they were both seated for some time in one fauteuil — probably one of those double chairs of state,’ 1 Sevigne. 2 Dangeau. VOL. V. I 114 Mary Beatrice of Modeaa, fi 688 - 9 . such as that which is shown in queen Mary’s chamber at Holyrool- palace. The queen was charmed with monseigneur’s cabinets, and good-naturedly spoke much in praise of the dauphiness, for whom, how- ever, this prince cherished very little tenderness. When the queen left the apartments of the dauphin, he reconducted her to the spot where he had received her, and she proceeded to visit monsieur, and then madame. On the 15th, the king of France, with the dauphin, visited the king of England at St. Germains. James received them at the end of the hall of guards ; and after they had conversed some time, they went together to the queen’s apartment, where three fauteuils were placed, | but the king of England would not sit to leave the dauphin standing, who could not occupy the third fauteuil in his presence. After standing for some time by the chimney-piece, chatting with that prince, James, turning to the king of France, said, “We are determined to have no more ceremonies after this visit.” The frank proposition of the sailor- king did not suit the formality of the court of France, which two suc- cessive Spanish queens had rendered almost as solemnly absurd on the subject of ceremonials, as that of the Escurial. James II. and Mary Beatrice found, that if they expected to be treated according to their own rank, they must condescend to the follies of persons of narrow intellect and strong prejudices, and conform to regulations which they, as aliens and suppliants, could not presume to censure. Policy and the exigency of circumstances had taught the fallen queen of England the | necessity of propitiating a lady of comparatively humble birth, but 1 whose master-mind rendered her of tenfold more importance than all the French princesses put together, with the haughty dauphiness at | their head. It is scarcely necessary to explain that this was madame de Main tenon, the bosom-counsellor of Louis XIV., she who wore the fleur-de-lis and ermined mantle, which none but the wife of a king of France may venture to assume, though public opinion forbade the widow Scarron to bear the title of queen. The first time madame de Main- tenon came to St. Germains, Mary Beatrice, having made her wait a few minutes, gracefully apologized for it, by expressing her regret that she had lost so much of her conversation. The compliment was well judged, and her majesty had the good fortune of making a favourable impression on her whose influence governed the latter years of the grand monarque. “ Every one,” says madame de Sdvigne, “ is pleasea with this queen, she has so much wit. She said to our king, on seeing him caressing the prince of Wales, who is very beautiful, ‘I had envied the happiness of my son in being unconscious of his misfortunes ; but now I regret the unconsciousness which prevents him from being sensible of your majesty’s goodness to him.’ Everything she says is full of good sense, but it is not so with her husband ; he is brave, but j689.] The monogram diamond seal, 115 his capacity is ordinary, and he recounts all that has passed in England without enaotion. He is a good man, nevertheless.” The anguish that oppressed the heart of the exiled queen while suc- cessfully labouring to establish a hard-earned popularity in the French court, is unaffectedly avowed in the following letter, addressed by her, evidently at this period, to her faithful friend the countess of Lich- field “St. Germains, Jan. 21. “You cannot imagine, dear lady Lichfield, how pleased I was to receive two letters from you, so full of kindness as they were. I hope you do not think I am so unreasonable as to expect you should leave your husband and children to come to me. I am in too miserable a condition to wish that my friends should follow it, if they can be in their own country. I was overjoyed to hear by everybody, as well as by the king, that your lord had behaved himself so well. I don’t doubt but he will continue to do so, and I am sure you will encourage him to it. The king is entirely satisfied with him, and does not dislike what he did, for he had the example and advice of honest men, which he may well follow. The letter sent by your sister was of no great consequence, but by the courier you had reason to think it was. 1 thank God I am very well in my health, and have the satisfaction to see my poor child grow visibly every day, and the king look better than he has done this great while. I want no less, to enable me to support my other mis- fortunes, which are so extraordinary that they move every one’s pity in this country, so that they cry and pray for us perpetually. I hope God will hear their prayers, and make us happy again, but no change of condition shall ever lessen the real kindness I have for you. “ M. E.” This letter is written on plain note-paper, and is enclosed in a torn and hastily folded envelope, superscribed — “ For the countess of Lich- field.” It is sealed with the famous diamond seal always used by the consort of James II. in her correspondence with the adherents of the Jacobite cause. The impression is her royal cypher, M.R., interlaced with that of her royal husband, J.E., the J forming the first limb of the ornamented M. This conjugal device is surmounted with the crown- matrimonial of England. The manner in which Mary Beatrice speaks of her infant son in this letter, contains, in its unaffected simplicity, a refutation of the complicated falsehoods with which the injustice of a party had laboured to impugn his birth. When the fallen queen thanks God, in the midst of her misfortunes, “ that she has the satisfaction of seeing her poor child grow I Through the kindness of the late lady earl and countess of Lichfield, I enjoy the Bedingfeld, bedchamber-woman to queen privilege of presenting this most interesting Adelaide, the immediate descendant of the royal letter, for the first time, to the public. I 2 116 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1689. visibly every day,” every one recognises the voice of nature, and the genuine feelings of a mother’s heart. The royal Stuart tartan in which Mary Beatrice dressed her boy, not being the orthodox costume for babies of his rank in France, excited the astonishment of the ladies of that court, as we find from a remark made by madame de Sevigne, in a letter dated January 31, 1689 : — “ Madame de Chaulnes has seen the queen of England, with whom she is much pleased. The little prince was dressed like a merry-andrew,^ but beautiful and jo3mus, leaping and dancing when they held him up.” He was then between seven and eight months old, a most attractive age ; and the bracing, salubrious air of St. Germains had evidently been of much service to the royal infant, whose health was so delicate in Eng- land. When the exiled king and queen witnessed the representation of Racine’s popular tragedy of Esther, at St. Cyr,^ Mary Beatrice was seated between the two kings, having Louis on her left hand and her husband on her right. Louis invited them to visit him at the Trianon the following day. He received his royal guests under the portico, and went all ove/ the palace with them, chatting very pleasantly with them both. While the two kings were engaged in a long private conference, Mary Beatrice played at cards, with monsieur for her partner, against the duchesses of Epernon and Yentadour. In the evening they all went to see the ballet, where her majesty was seated, as before, between her husband and Louis XIY. She was attended by the countess of Sussex, lady Sophia Bulkeley,^ and madame de Montecuculi, her ladies in wait- ing. The formal pleasures of the French court had no power to cheer hearts that were full of anxious thoughts of England. James had addressed a manifesto, on the 4th of January, to his lords spiritual and temporal, and his subjects in general, claiming their allegiance, and stating the causes that compelled him to withdraw from the personal restraint under which he had been placed by the Dutch troops ; he expressed his desire to return for the purpose of assembling a free parliament for the redress of all grievances. Instead of a free parliament, ninety-five peers, taking the legislative power into their own hands, empowered the prince of Orange to assemble a convention, composed of persons who had been members of parliament in Charles H.’s reign, the lord mayor, aldermen, and fifty common-councilmen of the city of London, to settle the government. The archbishop of Canterbury refused to assist in the deliberations of an illegally constituted assembly, supported by a foreign army : the greater number of the bishops adhered to their oaths of allegiance to James. A 1 “Godinot.” is the word used by madame ^ This lady was the sister of “la belle de Sevigne. Stuart she was married to Mr. Bulkeley 2 Sevigne. Dangeau. the brother of lord Bulkeley. i 689 .] Nonjuring bishops and clergy in England, 117 majority of two voices only, in the house of peers, confirmed the vote of the convention that the throne was vacant in consequence of James’s flight to France. On the 6th of February it was decided, by a majority of twenty, that the prince and princess of Orange should be proclaimed king and queen. ^ The smallness of the majority by which this measure was carried, proves how closely the parties were balanced. Eight prelates, with the archbishop of Canterbury at their head, including five of the seven who had, in commemoration of their resistance to James and imprisonment in the Tower, been called the seven pillars of the church, preferred the loss of their bishoprics to transferring their allegiance to the new sovereigns : their example was followed by a third of the clergy. A movement and a change took place on that occasion in the church throughout England, in which the nonjuring ministers occupied a position not dissimilar to those of the free church in Scotland in the present day. They forsook all, rather than violate their principles, and were reduced, with their families, to the greatest state of destitution In some instances whole congregations adhered to the deprived minister; party ran high in parishes, and even in families, on the subject of these divisions, and good Christians beheld with pain a breach in the unity of the church of England. King James was, meantime, reminded by his viceroy Tyrcon- nel, that he was still the undisputed sovereign of Ireland. In compliance with the urgent invitations of his subjects there, he determined to make his appearance in that realm. On the 20 th of February, James lost a powerful friend by the sudden death of his niece, the queen of Spain who had been urgent with the king her husband to render him assistance in his distress. Her decease plunged the courts of Versailles and St. Germains into grief and mourn- ing. James prepared himself for his expedition to Ireland rather in the spirit of a pilgrim devotee than a warrior, by visiting the nunnery of Chaillot, where the heart of the late queen his mother was enshrined, and offering up his prayers for the repose of her soul. That convent was founded by Henrietta, and when a boy he had been accustomed to attend her thither, though at that time opposed, with all the vehemence of his enthusiastic temperament, to the doctrines of the church of Eome, and on very bad terms with his mother in consequence of their differences of opinion ; yet he told the lady abbess that “ he had great pleasure in the recollections associated .with his visits to Chaillot.” He besought the prayers of the sisters for the success of his voyage, and expressed the 1 Journals of the Lords. Burnet. Mackin- tosh. 2 Life and Works of Bishop Ken. 3 This princess was the eldest daughter of ITenrietta of England and Philip duke of Orleans- she inherited the wit, beauty, and fascination of her mother. She was only six- and-twenty, and her death was attributed to poison, administered by the emissaries of a party jealous of her unbounded influence over the mind of her weak, sick'y husband, Charles 11, of Spain.— St, Simon. Sdvigne, 118 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1639. pleasure he felt at the thought that his queen would often come there during his absence, to perfonn her devotions. At the request of Mary Beatrice, Louis XIY. had not only forgiven Lauzun for all past offences, but elevated him to the rank of a duke ; and king James, in acknowledgment of the services he had rendered in conducting the escape of the queen and prince, invested him, on the eve of his expedition to Ireland, with the order of the Garter, in the church of Notre Dame. The collar and jewel of the order, which were very richly ornamented with diamonds, were the same that had belonged to Charles I., and which had been entrusted after his death, during the subsequent reign of terror, to the care of honest Izaak Walton, who faithfully returned them to Charles II. Lauzun was one of the hundred noble French gentlemen who volunteered their services to king James on this occasion. James’s force consisted of two thousand five hundred English and Scotch emigrants ; his funds, of four hundred thousand crowns — a loan from the French monarch. Louis supplied him with vessels, and offered to assist him with troops. James’s reluctance to employ foreign soldiers was still insuperable, and he replied, “ I will recover my own dominions with my own subjects, or perish in the attempt.”^ Like many a lofty spirit, he was compelled to bend to circumstances without achieving his object. Louis had provided equi- pages, camp beds, and toilet furniture of a magnificent description for the use of the royal adventurer ; at parting, he unbuckled his sword, and presented it, telling him he hoped it would prove fortunate.^ The French courtiers, who delighted in anything resembling a scene, were greatly excited with this romantic incident, and talked much of Hector, Amadis, and Orondates. The farewell compliment of Louis was blunt, but spoken in the spirit of true kindness. “ The best wish that I can ofler to your majesty,'’ said he, “ is, that I may never see you again.” ^ The separation between Mary Beatrice and her husband was of a heartrrending character. They parted as lovers who expected to meet no more on earth. Every one felt for the uncontrollable anguish of the queen : her adieus were interrupted with tears and swoonings. She withdrew the same day, February 28, from the palace of St. Germains with her infant boy, into the deep retirement of the convent at Poissy, with the intention of passing the whole of her time in tears and prayers for the safety of her ill-fated lord. The catastrophe that befell the king’s favourite valet, who was drowned at Pont de C^, was considered ominous — the vessel in which he had embarked with his majesty’s luggage being lost, with all the costly presents bestowed by Louis XIY. James travelled in his coach, having with him his son the duke of Berwick, and the earls of Powis, Dumbarton, and Melfort, and Thomas Stuart. 1 Sir James Mackintosh. * Madame de Sevignd. 3 Dalrymple. Dangeau. Sevigne. 119 1689*] King James lands in Ireland, He crossed the fauxbourgs of Paris, reached Orleans the same night, and took the route through Bretagne. At Koche Bernard, the due de Chaulnes received the exiled monarch with great state, and would have conducted him to a bedchamber to repose himself, but James said, “I only want something to eat.’^ They had provided him a splendid supper entirely of fish. He embarked at Brest on the 6th or 7th of March, and landed at Kinsale, in Ireland, on the 12th. He was received with acclamations, His viceroy, Tyrconnel, had got together an army of forty thousand men, but chiefly made up of half-naked unarmed peasants, ready to fight, but having neither weapons nor military discipline. James entered Dublin in triumph, and opened his parliament with declarations of religious liberty to all persuasions. Dundee and Balcarres urged him to come to Scotland, “where the highland chiefs were eager for his presence, and hosts' of shepherds v/ould be transformed into warriors at the first wave of his banner on the mountain tops.” He was also entreated by a strong party of faithful friends and repentant foes to hasten to England without further delay Even those subtle, deep-seeing foxes of the revolution, Halifax and Danby, assured Sir John Eeresby “ that king James might be reinstated in less than four months, if he would only dismiss his priests.” Some of the authors of the revolution began to make over- tures to their old master, in the same spirit which sometimes leads gamblers on the turf to hedge their bets, when they see cause to suspect that they have ventured their money on a wrong horse. The morning after the news of king James’s landing in Ireland became public in London, it was discovered that some wag had written on the walls of Whitehall, “A great house to be let by St. John’s-day,” ^ intimating by this pasquinade, that the present royal tenants of the palace would be compelled to vacate it before the midsummer quarter. The king of France did not wish Mary Beatrice to bury herself in the seclusion of Poissy during the absence of her lord, and endeavoured by all the means in his power to tempt her to gayer scenes ; but her heart was filled with too much anxiety, and all she seemed to live for was her child, and letters from James or news of his proceedings. Louis pro- mised to send especial couriers whenever he received despatches, to convey the tidings to her as early as possible.® From Poissy, the queen went for a few days to the convent of Chaillot. While there, she formed a spiritual friendship with the superior and several of the nuns of this community. Very precious to the fallen queen of England were the sympathy and reverence which she received from the nuns of Chaillot in the days of her adversity, and the friendship that was commenced between her and some of the ladies of that community was only dissolved 1 Palrymple. Life of James II. Maepherson. * Sevigne. 3 Dangeau. Sevign^. 120 Manj Beatrice of Modena, [1689. by death. She had her preferences among them; and the three who appeared to hold the first place in her regard, were madame Catharine Angeliqne Priolo, madame Claire Angelique de Beauvais, and mademoi- selle Francoise Angelique de Mesme. Mary Beatrice often calls these ladies “ her three Angeliques.” She also mentions with great affection a sister, whom she calls “ her dear little portress,” and “ the dear sister of Dumbarton,” lady Henrietta Douglas, who took the name of Marie Paule at her profession. Business recalled her majesty to her lonely court at St. Germains, from whence she wrote thus to the abbess of Chaillot : — “St. Germains, April 28, 1689. “ The too great respect that you have for me, my dear mother, pre- vents you from writing to me, and the proper regard I have for you obliges me to write to you, for I take great pleasure in telling you, that ever since I left your holy cloister I have wished to return thither. I believe, however, there is self-love in that, for, without deceit, I have not found any real repose since the king left me but at Chaillot. It is seventeen days since I have heard any tidings from him, which greatly disquiets me, since I cannot give any credit to news that comes from any other quarter. I implore the charity of your good prayers, and those of all your community.” The concluding requests involve some of the vital differences of belief between Christians of the reformed church and those of the church of Kome, for however efficacious the prayers of holy men and women may be, it is contrary to Scriptui*e warrant to believe that any person has good works to spare for others. The piety of Mary Beatrice became of a more spiritual and enlightened character as she advanced, through many sufferings, on her Christian course. Many are the presents of fruit, cakes, confections, and vegetables, fish and bread, that are acknowledged by her majesty in the course of her letters, with expressions of gratitude to the members of this com- munity. In the postscript to this letter she speaks of the little offerings to her table that had been sent to her by her cloistered friends : — “ I have eaten heartily at my dinner of your bread and salad, for which I thank you, but I forbid you to be at the trouble of sending more of it to me. I ought, at any rate, to send for it. I beg you to thank mademoiselle de la Motte for me, for the preserves she has sent me : they are very good, but too much to send at one time. I have promised lady Almonde that this letter should answer for her as well as for me, for she does not know how to write in French. I believe,” con- tinues her majesty, archly, “ that one cf my letters will be a little more agreeable than those of her secretary.’* Mary Beatrice found it necessary, for the sake of her royal husband’s interest, to propitiate the king of France by emerging from her tearful i 689 .] Excites jealousy and admiration in the French court. 121 retirement, and appearing at some of the splendid fetes and entertain- ments which he devised for her amusement. The solicitude that magni- ficent prince manifested for her comfort, and the many distinguishing marks of attention he showed her, were exaggerated into signs and tokens of a more lively regard than friendship; Madame de Maintenon became uneasy, and betrayed symptoms of jealous}^ “Yet,” observes our authority, “ this suspected passion for the queen of England had no other foundation than the sympathy and innocent attentions which the king could not help offering to a princess whose virtues were acknow- ledged by all the world, and which he would have admired in any one.” ^ Mary Beatrice was, moreover, the adopted daughter of Louis, and his regard for her was a sentiment, not a passion — a sentiment which, in its refinement and generosity, forms one of the redeeming traits of his character. He treated her, it is true, with the homage which is always paid to a beautiful and intellectual woman in France, but it was her conjugal tenderness that excited his respect. “She was always a queen in her prosperity,” said he ; “ but in her adversity she is an angel.” ^ The dauphin had a great esteem for Mary Beatrice, and frequently came to see her ; but the dauphiness, who was jealous of the higher title borne by the unfortunate queen, rarely visited her. One day the dauphin brought his little son, the duke of Burgundy, to St. Germains, and the queen inquired of the dauphin if she ought not to give him a fauteuil ; and the reply being in the affirmative, he was duly inducted into one of those important seats. Then came monsieur, madame, and their son, the due de Chartres. They had fauteuils, but the young duke only a pliant. These absurd rags of ceremonials are always noted by the journalists of the time — even those who held the office of ministers of state — with as much gravity as if connected with the fate of empires. Weariness and vexation of spirit it was for the anxious consort of James II. to bestow the attention of an overburdened mind on such follies. Situated as she was, however, she was compelled to condescend to trifles, and to learn the hard lesson, to a lofty mind, of making herself everything to all the world. The receipt of a letter from her absent lord, written during the favour- able aspect of affairs which flattered him on his first arrival in Ireland, filled her heart with joy, which she hastened to communicate to her friends at Chaillot in the following animated note, written in great haste and without distinctive date, but the allusion to the siege of Derry fixes it to May : — “ St. Germains, Tuesday matin. “ I was so much pressed with business and visits all yesterday, that I had not a single moment of time left me to give and impart my joy to 1 Gallerie de rA.ncienne Cour. 2 Sevigne. 122 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [iGsg. my dear mother and her dear community, having received, while finish- ing my dinner, a very long letter from the king, of recent date, which assured me that he was in perfect health at Dublin, and that he expected every day the news of the taking of the town which is besieged [DerryJ.i The early successes of king James in Ireland were rendered useless for want of money. He was compelled to raise the value of the currency in the first instance, and finally to ruin his cause by coining brass money to pass at the nominal value of silver. The expedient of bills and bank notes had never been adopted by the Stuart monarchs as the cheap representatives of imaginary millions. Mary Beatrice, painfully aware of the exigency of her husband’s circumstances, became an earnest sup- plicant for money to her royal friend, the king of France ; but Louis was neither able nor willing to supply funds for the Irish war. He was ready to conduce to her domestic comforts on a magnificent scale, but his own extensive buildings at Versailles were yet to be paid for. He referred everything relative to public business to his ministers. To them the anxious queen next addressed herself ; and at last her impas- sioned pleadings wrought on Seignelai to send a welcome, but inefficient, supply of money and arms to her royal husband. The first time her name is mentioned as connected with public business, is in reference to the assistance she gave to the destitute champions of king James’s cause in Scotland, by pawning part of her jewels, and sending the proceeds to Dundee for the purchase of arms and ammunition.^ “ I was extremely surprised,” writes that gallant chief to lord Melfort, “ when I saw Mr. Drummond, the advocate, in a highland habit, come up to Lochaber to me, and give account that the queen had sent 2,000?. sterling to London to be paid to me for the king’s service, and that two more were coming. I did not think the queen had known anything of our affairs. I received a very obliging letter from her by Mr. Crain.” ^ Dundee’s letter is dated June 28. The seasonable supply which Mary Beatrice had sent him, enabled him to make a vigorous and triumphant advance. He gathered the clans round the standard of king James, and, on the 18th of July, defeated king William’s forces under Mackay in the pass of Killiecrankie, and having taken the Dutch standard, fell mortally wounded in the moment of victory. With him fell the cause of king James in Scotland. The queen did her utmost to keep alive the interest of her royal husband, by writing to their old friends and acquaintances in Scotland, and sending over agents and busy intriguers, to nurse up plots for risings in his favour in various parts of the ancient realm of the 1 From the original French holograph in ters have not succeeded in Ireland** the Chaillot collection, at the h6tel de Sou- 2 Nairue’s State Papers. Life of King bise, Paris. This letter has subsequently, James, been carefully indorsed, “ Fourth letter, 3 Nairne’s State Papers. which must never be produced Wcause mat- i689.] Her letter to the duJce of Gordon. 123 Stuarts. The following curious and mysteriously worded letter was addressed by her to the gallant duke of Gordon : — “ Queen of James II. to the Duke of Gokdon. “ May 24 [ ]. “ If I could have found sooner than this a safe opportunity of writing to you, I should not have been so long without telling you, that one of the greatest satisfactions I have had since I left England has been to hear of the zeal and faithfulness with which you have served and serve the king, at a time when everybody seems to have forgot their duty, and when the king is not only not in a condition of rewarding those that perform it, but hardly able to let them know he is sensible of it, or to give them any light of his affairs to encourage them to continue faith- ful. By this you show yourself a good Christian, as well as a man of honour, and being bred up with both, I do assure myself that nothing can ever alter you. The queen of England, as well as the king of France, admire your conduct, and upon all occasions speak of it, and of your courage in keeping for your master what he left in your charge.^ I know you need no encouragement to make ye go on as bravely as you have begun, but it will be a satisfaction to you to hear that the king’s affairs in Ireland are in a very good posture ; there was no town against him but Londonderry, which, by what they writt from Dublin, is, I am confident, before this in the king’s hands, so that he is entirely master of that kingdom, and I hope will not stop there. I do conjure you to have a good heart, and encourage all the friends the king has in your country, for I am confident they will soon hear some good from him. Your good friend, that sends you this letter, will acquaint you with my name which I dare not writt, nor make any superscription to this letter, for God knows whether ever it will come to you ; but your friend will answer for me how duly I am Yours.” ^ At this epoch, Mary Beatrice assumes the unwonted character of a woman of business, James’s ministers were astonished at her acute perceptions, sound sense, and application. “ I confess,” writes lord Melfort to king James, “ I never saw any one understand affairs better than the queen ; and she has really gained so much esteem from the king here, and his ministers, that I am truly of opinion, that if it had not been for her, the wicked reports spread here had made your affairs go entirely wrong at the court. I dare not,” continues his lordship, “ enter to speak of the prince, for adding to this letter, only I do protest, that he is the finest child I ever saw. God Almighty bless your majesty, the queen, and him ! for your comfort grant you the possession * Keeping Edinburgh-castle for James II., 2 Printed in the Spalding Club Miscollany, not surrendered till after the death of Dun- since the publication of the earlier editions of dee at Kllliecrankie, which dates this letter this work, within a few months. 124 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1690* of yoar own, and that you may never have a worse servant than,”' &c., meaning himself. A worse counsellor James never had: his letters, when interce})ted, had a very bad influence on his royal master’s cause, as they betrayed a treacherous and vindictive temper. The queen, finding Melfort’s presence mischievous at St. Germains, got rid of him as handsomely as she could, by sending him to compliment the new pope, and to endeavour to obtain money for the exigencies of the Stuart cause from him. His holiness expressed great sympathy, but protested his inability to assist her majesty with anything but his prayers. Her ambassador, though a Catholic, did not appear to consider these of any particular value. Meantime, the queen was indefatigable in her exertions for the ad- vancement of her husband’s interest in the court of France. Sometimes she was cheered with flattering tidings of successes in Ireland. On the last day of the year 1689, she writes to her friend, the abbess of Chaillot, in a perfect ecstacy : — “ It is always on a Saturday, my dear mother, that I have news of the king. I believe that my dear daughters of Sion may already begin to sing their canticles of praise to the Most High, whose puissant arm, without the aid of human means, has almost entirely destroyed our enemies.” ^ The royal writer expresses a hope that the king w^ould soon be master of Ireland. This letter, like all on that subject, is indorsed : — “ On the good successes in the war in Ireland, which had no foundation ; there- fore this letter must never be shown.” Little did the cautious recluse to whom they were adressed imagine the possibility of the concatenation of circumstances, which has rendered this jealously hoarded correspondence available material for the biographer of the royal writer. When Mary Beatrice first used to make her visits to this convent, the abbess insisted on treating her with the ceremonies due to royalty, and made her dine in her state apartment ; but early in the year 1690, the queeu expressed her positive determination not to avail herself of these marks of respect, in the following letter to the superior : — ^ “ I thank you, my dearest mother, for the offer you have made me of giving me a dinner in j^our chamber of assembly, but I cannot be satisfied with that. I wish to eat in the refectory with you and the others, and I pray you to expect me on Tuesday at eleven o’clock, supposing this to be a fast-day. I propose to depart from hence at eight o’clock in the morning, and to be at matins at ten o’clock, in the church of our good fathers. I beg you to have them informed of it. I had already ordained the duty to Riva to bring you the provisions for dinner on Tuesday, as 1 Original Papers from the Nairne collection, in Macpherson’s Stuart Papers. 2 Inedited letters of the queen of James II.; Chaillot MSS. ^ ibid. i6so.'| Her letters, 125 I am persuaded that my sister, Marie Francoise, will prepaie it with much pleasure, since there wili be a portion for me, which I charge her to make similar to the others, without form or ceremony. Adieu, my dearest mother ! adieu to all our sisters ! I have pleasure in thinking that 1 shall soon be, for some hours, at Chaillot. I have great need of such a solace, for since I left you I have had repose neither in body nor in mind.” The letters of Mary Beatrice to her absent lord at this exciting period, if they should ever be discovered, would, of course, surpass in interest any other portion of her correspondence. Her love for him was so ab- sorbing a feeling, that it prompted her to write the most earnest entreaties to those about him to be careful of his personal safety. Of this the fol- lowing letter is an instance : — Queen Maky Beatrice to the Earl of Tyrconnel.^ “ St. Germains, April 5, 1690. “ This is my third letter since I heard from you, but I shall not make it a long one, for the bearer of it knows a great deel of my mind, or rather of all the thoughts of my heart ; for I was so overjoyed to meet with one that I durst speake freely to, that I opened my heart to him, and sayd more then [than] I should like to do again in haste to anybody. I ih.Qxefor refer myself to him to tell you all wee spoke of, for I have no secrets for you. One thing only 1 must say, to beg of you to have a care of the king, and not to lett him be so much encouraged by the good news he will hear, for I dread nothing at this time but his going so fast into England, in a maner dangerous and uncertain for himself, and dis- advantageous to those of our persuasion. I have writt an unreasonable long letter to him to tell him my mind, and 1 have said much to lord Dover to say to him, for it is not probable that I shall ever have so safe an opportunity of writing again. Pray putt him often in mind of beeing carefull of his person, if not for his own sake, for mine, my sonne’s, and all our friends, that are undone if anything amiss happens to him. I dare not let myself go upon this subject, I am so full of it. I know you love the king ; I am sure you are my friend, and therfor I need say the less to you ; but cannot end my letter without telling you, that 1 never in my life had a truer nor a more sincere friendship for anybody than I have for you. “ M. E.” The orthography of this letter is rather obsolete than illiterate ; the queen has evidently studied the language of her adopted country so far, as to have overcome the difBculties of spelling its capricious words of treacherous sound, in which she suceeds better than most foreigners, and indeed, many natives of the same era. The epistles of her daughters-in- ® From Netherclift’s autograph fac-simile : the original is in the possession of lord de Clifford 126 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1690. law, Mary princess of Orange and the princess Anne, are not so well spelled, and the construction of those of the latter is infinitely inferior. Mary Beatrice, however, retains obstinately one peculiarity of a foreigner writing English ; she always puts a small ^ for the first personal pronoun instead of the capital I, that important egotism of our language in which, to be sure, ours stands alone among those of Europe. The worthy col- lector, from whose stores the above tender and feminine letter is quoted, seems to have read it with surprise, for he proceeds to express a generous indignation at the idea universally entertained of the unfortunate wife of James II. He observes “ that the character of this queen has been most unjustly described by historians ; she is represented as devoid of almost every natural affection, of the meanest understanding, and of such defective education as to be incapable of reading or writing.” Mary Beatrice corresponded fluently in Italian, French, and English, and she possessed sufficient knowledge of Latin to read the Scriptures daily in the vulgate. This practice she never omitted, however much she might be pressed for time. That she was excessively occupied at this period may be perceived from her letter to the superior of Chaillot to excuse herself from assisting at the profession of a novice, who had been desirous of receiving the white veil from her : she says : — “ May 3 . “It is with much difficulty that I abstract this little moment to tell you that I was greatly annoyed at not being able to be with you last week, and that I will do all in my power to be there on Wednesday or Thursday next week. In the meantime, I have ordered Riva to tell all the news that I have had from Ireland and elsewhere, for I have not time to do it, having three expresses to despatch before I can be with you. I expect everj^ moment another courier from Ireland, who I know was at Brest last Friday, and I cannot learn what has become of him. I shall be glad to be excused from the profession of the daughter of the holy sacrament, for when I am at Chaillot I do not desire to go out. I beg you to make my compliments to all our dear sisters, and in par- ticular to my dear sisters the assistant and la Deposee, I am dying to be among you, and, in the meantime, I will try to unite my imperfect prayers with the holy ones they offer to God, who is pleased to declare for us a thousand' times more than we deserve. Adieu, my dearest mother ! I am yours from the depth of my heart, “M. R.” She succeeded in raising a large sum on some of her jewels to send tc the king, although a supply little proportioned to the greatness of his need ; but she had prevailed on Seignelai, the French minister of marine, to equip and send a fleet into St. George’s Channel. ' This fleet drove William’s admiral, Herbert, and his squadron out of Bantry-bay, and landed some military stores for king James. D’Avaux, the French if) 90 .] Loss of the battle of the Boyne, 127 minister in attendance on that prince, exultingly announced to him that the French had defeated the English fleet. “ It is for the first time, then,” retorted the royal seaman, with an irrepressible burst of national feeling.^ His consort, however, could not refrain from rejoicing in the success of the expedition which she had been the cause of sending to his assistance, and when Tourville, another French admiral, defeated the once invincible British fleet at Beachyhead, on the 1st and 2nd of July, she wrote a long and highly complimentary letter of congratulation to him. “ If,” says she, “ we are so fortunate as to return soon to our own country, I shall always consider that you were the first to open the way to it ; for it was effectually shut against us before the success of this engagement, to which your good conduct has contributed so much. But if I do not deceive myself, it appears to me now to be completely open, provided the king could gain some little time in Ireland, which I hope he will ; but I tremble with fear lest the prince of Orange, who sees clearly that it is his interest so to do, should push the king and force him to give battle.” ^ That fear was already realized. The letter of the appre- hensive queen was written July 20, the battle of the Boyne had been fought on the first of that month. King James had chosen his post skilfully, but William possessed a flne train of artillery, and his well- accoutred veteran troops doubled the numbers® of that unfortunate monarch’s rabble rout. It was impossible for the result to be otherwise than a complete overthrow. Yet, strange to say, rumour brought the flattering news to Paris of a brilliant victory won by James, in which the prince of Orange, it was said, was slain. Great rejoicings and illu- minations took place in consequence. This mistake only rendered the disastrous truth more agonizing to the consort of the luckless James. Tyrconnell has been greatly blamed for advising James to quit Ireland with such precipitancy ; and this again has been imputed to his paying too much regard to the feelings of the queen, who was so apprehensive of the king’s person as to be in constant agony about it. She had fre- quently begged him to have especial care of his majesty’s safety. On the 27th of June, Tyrconnel unluckily received another passionate letter from her majesty, telling him “ that he must not wonder at her repeated instances on that head, for unless he saw her heart, he could not imagine the torment she suffered on that account, and must always continue to do so, let things go as they would.” ^ King James landed at Brest, July 20, N.s. From Brest he sent an express to his queen, to acquaint her with his arrival there, and his mis- fortune, telling her at the same time, “ that he was sensible he should be blamed for having hazarded a battle on such inequalities, but that he 1 Dalrymple. Quoted in the Life of King James, from 2 Macpherson’s Collection of Stuart Papers, his Memoirs. * James’s Journal 128 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ 1690 . had no other post so advantageous, aud was loath tc abandon all with- out a stroke.” ^ Mary Beatrice, though she was overwhelmed with grief at the loss of the battle, was consoled by the news of her husband’s safety and she declared, in rather quaint terms, “ that, after having almost broken her head with thinking, and her heart with vexation, at the king’s ruin and that of their faithful friends, without being herself in a condition to help them, she felt it as an unspeakable alleviation that the king was safe; for if she had heard of the loss of the battle before she knew of the king’s arrival, she knew not what would have become of her, and though she confessed that it was a dismal thing to see him so unhappy as he was in France, yet, in spite of her reason, her heart was glad to see him there.” ^ James remained a few days on the coast of Brittany, for the purpose of sending arms, money, and provisions to the relief of the unfortunate gentlemen who continued to maintain the con- test in Ireland, and also in Scotland. Mary Beatrice, after the death of Dundee, continued to keep up a correspondence with their Scottish friends, and had drawn Sir James Montgomery and lord Boss into the league for king James, and sent them 15,000^.^ Through the treachery of lord Boss, and some others engaged, the project ended in disappoint- ment. The meeting between Mary Beatrice and her lord, who had been absent from her eighteen long months, was inexpressibly tender. James had the happiness of finding his son, whom he had left an infant in the nurse’s arms, grown a fine strong boy, full of health, life, and joy, able to run about anywhere, and to greet him with the name of father. The beauty and animation of the child pleased the French, and rendered him the darling of the British emigrants. A family group, consisting of the exiled king and queen, and their boy, which was probably painted after James’s return from Ireland, formerly decorated one of the state apart- ments of the chateau. The little prince is very beautiful, with large dark eyes, bright complexion, and a profusion of clustering curls. He is dressed in a royal Stuart tartan frock, with a point- lace stomacher, and wears a sort of fanciful helmet-cap of dark blue velvet, with a plume of black and blue feathers. This costume the queen certainly intended for a highland dress. He holds a robin red-breast on his finger, on which he bestows a smiling regard. The elbow of that arm originally rested in the palm of his royal mother, while the king held him by the other hand ; but the portrait of the prince w^as all that could be restored of this interesting painting, which was discovered by that noted collector of historical portraits, the late James Smith, esq., of St. Germains, in a 1 Quoted in the Life of King James, from nected with this plot, are printed in the notes his Memoirs. of the Melville Papers, edited by the hon. 2 Ibid. Her letter to Tyrconnel, August AVilliam Leslie Melville: printed by the 13, 1690. Banna tyne Club. 3 Two of her letters to Montgomery, con- 1690.] Born to he the sport of fortune. 129 great state of dilapidation, among some rubbish in an out-house near the chateau. King James and his queen were far from considering the battle of the Boyne as a death-blow to the cause. They had, up to that moment, received ardent assurances of support from attached friends in England, and so many penitential overtures through their various agents from persons who were disposed to forsake William and Mary, ‘‘ that his chief motive in quitting Ireland was to arrange measures with Louis XIV. for landing in England,” ^ Louis came to pay him a visit at St. Germains the day after his arrival there, but was too much dissatisfied with the result of the Irish expedition to feel disposed to assist him in his other project. It was in vain that James told Louis that he was ready to go on board the fleet, either with an army or without one, for “ he was certain his own sailors would never flght against one under whom they had so often conquered.” Louis put him off with a compli- ment, and James, in the anguish of his heart, exclaimed, “ that he was born to be the sport of fortune.” ^ All the members of the royal family came to pay him and the queen ceremonial visits on his return. To these Mary Beatrice alludes in a letter, evidently written at this painful epoch, to her friend Angelique Priolo, the ex-abbess of Chaillot. This letter is deeply interesting, unveiling as it does the natural feelings of a mind impressed with the instability of earthly greatness, and formed for higher and better things than trimming the sails of a wrecked vessel that could float no more, in the vain hope of catching a favouring gale “ At St. Germains, this Tuesday. “ It is certain, my dear mother, that I have had grand visits to make and to receive. I shall conclude these to-morrow with that of madame de Chartres, at Versailles, and I hope that we shall then have a little repose together next week. In truth I need it, both for soul and body. What you say of that repose in your last letter is admirable ; but it seems to me, that the more I seek for it the less I And it. It may be, perhaps, that I seek it with too much anxiety, or rather, that I search for it where it is not ; yet all the while I am convinced that it is only to be found in God, and I do not appear even to wish to And it out of Him.” 3 A little present of fruit, from the abbess and one of the ladies who boarded in the convent, is thus graciously acknowledged by her majesty : — “ I beg you to thank our mother and mademoiselle de la Motte, both on the part of the king and myself, for the excellent figs they have sent us. We have eaten of them at dinner, and shall again at supper, and to-morrow. Since your man is here, I will write to you by him. On 1 Journal of King James. Life of James. 2 Dalrymple. 3 Chaillot MS. VOL. v. K 130 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1690. Monday I will come to your vespers and sermon, if it please God. I believe the king will also, and that he sleeps to-night at Paris. He goes to-morrow to Compeigne, and will not return till Saturday. I take pleasure in the thought that I shall pass all that time at Chaillot. I shall go one day to Paris, and I hope we shall not have to do much in paying visits of ceremony.” ^ King James joined his queen at Chaillot, and after attending service in that church, paid his compliments to the abbess. The queen told him how fervently the nuns had petitioned for the preservation of his person during the late perils in which he had been engaged. James thanked the gentle sisterhood very courteously for their prayers, and in allusion to the disastrous termination of his expedition, meekly added, “ It is right to submit to the decrees of God.” Their majesties returned together to St. Germains. They were invited to spend some days with the French court at Fontainebleau, in October. The following particu- lars of their reception and visit, from the journal of one of the gentlemen of the royal household of France, show the respect and atfectionate atten- tion with which they were treated by Louis XIV. “ On the llth of October, his majesty, after dinner, went to meet the king and queen of England, who were to arrive at six in the evening by the avenue of the White Horse. The king met them at the Horse-shoe, where the dauphin was already in waiting for them. Louis took his royal guests into his own carriage, giving the queen the hand. When they reached the palace, he led her to the apartments of the queen-mother of France, where she found everything prepared for her reception, and there they passed the evening. The queen played at ombre and billiards with cardinal Furstemburg and madame de Croissy.”^ The next morning all the great ladies of the French court went to the toilet of queen Mary Beatrice, and attended her to the chapel-royal, where she knelt between the two kings, J ames on her right hand, and Louis on her left. They were seated in the same manner at table, the dauphin, monsieur, ma- dame, and all the princesses with them. The bad weather preventing them from going to the chase, Louis XI Y. initiated his royal guests into the mysteries of the new round game oi paume. On the 13th, James and his consort offered to take their leave, but Louis would not permit it. He took them to a boar hunt on the 17th, and in the evening made them walk on the terrace of the grand apartments, to see the stag roasted in the park which he and king James, and the dauphin, had killed in the morning. This spectacle, seen by the light of flambeaux, was con- sidered flue. The exiled king and queen departed on the 18th: the French king insisted on taking them in his own coach to the end of the forest of Chailly, followed by a cavalcade of other members of the royal familv. The duchess of Orleans took the countess of Almonde and lady l Chaillot MS. Dangcau’s JonmaL 131 1691.] Secret correspondence with lord Godolphin, Sophia Bulkeley, the queen’s ladies in waiting, in her coach. When they reached the hanks of the Seine, Louis assisted Mary Beatrice into her own carriage, and remained standing at the door till she drove off with king James and her two ladies.^ In England, the deposed poet-laureate, Dryden, endeavoured to serve the cause of his old master, king James, and his queen by a Jacobite pastoral, which, under the title of “ the Lady’s Song,” was one of the party notes at that exciting period, and if not the best, was certainly one of the earliest specimens of the class of compositions which, for nearly a century, served to keep alive the memory of the royal Stuarts. Mr. Bulkeley, the husband of queen Mary Beatrice’s faithful lady in waiting, lady Sophia Bulkeley, was actively engaged in England at this period, in attempting to draw some of the old servants of king James into a confederacy for his restoration. Lord Godolphin looked ashamed when he encountered him, and inquired, with a desponding air, after the court of St. Germains. He had deserted the falling cause of James at the Revolution, and paid his homage to the ascendant star of Orange, re- turned to his original politics, and accepted office under William. His attachment to the late queen, as Mary Beatrice was now styled, crossed his new duties. He purchased the pleasure of receiving a few lines traced by her hand, signifying that she forgave him, by promising to betray the secrets of William and Mary. William intercepted a packet of his letters, showed him the proofs of his treachery, generously forgave him, and continued to employ him. Godolphin could not resolve to give up the secret correspondence with Mary Beatrice. He rendered her no particular service, but flattered her with fair words, and soothed his self- love by keeping himself in her remembrance. He was aware that she would never make the sacrifice for him which w’ould have rendered him wholly and devotedly her servant to command in all things. Marl- borough was one of the double-minded politicians of the age, who now courted a reconciliation with the sovereign whom he had deserted and betrayed. The wisdom of the unjust steward in the parable was the leading principle among those wffio, after the Revolution, were osten- sibly the servants of William, and secretly the correspondents of James. A great deal of the correspondence was carried on though the queen. Sometimes Mary Beatrice is signified in the Jacobite letters of the period as Mr. Wisely, and Mrs. Whitely ; occasionally by a figure, or as Artley’s spouse, James bearing the cognomen of Artley, among many other aliases. Godolphin is often called “ the bale of goods Marlborough the Ham- burgh merchant,” or “ Armsworth.” There are a great many of these letters in the French archives. The cares and restless intrigues which occupied the exiled court at St. Germains were occasionally varied by visits to Louis XIV., at Versailles, ^ Dangeau’s Journal. K 2 132 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1691. Maiii, and Fontainebleau; but they rarely went to Paris, except to pay their devotions in the churches there. The great deligh t of Mary Beatrice was, when she could pass a day or two with her cloistered friends at Chaillot. Towards the close of the year 1691, she found herself, after an interval of four years, once more likely to become a mother. The king appeared to derive consolation for the loss of three crowns in the satisfaction which he felt at this prospect, and he exerted the utmost vigilance to prevent the queen from encountering the slight- est fatigue or excitement that might risk a disappointment. ‘So anxious was he on this point, that he actually interposed the authorit}- of a king and husband to prevent one of the devotional journeys to Chaillot in the last week of November, on which her majesty and some of her ladies had set their hearts. Lady Sophia Bulkeley, who was deputed to make sundry excuses to the abbess of Chaillot for her majesty being unable to pay her promised visit to the convent, could not refrain from giving a broad hint of the true reason, though, in consequence of its being very early days, the matter was to be kept a profound secret. “ Our income parable queen,” says her ladyship, “ is constrained to follow the counsels of the wise, and not to risk taking the air, lest the pain in her teeth should return. Her majesty finds herself now nearly well, but it be- comes necessary for her to take all sorts of precautions to keep so. The king judges it proper, and he must be obeyed, that she should await here the arrival of the king of France to-morrow. These causes unite to deprive the queen and us of one of our greatest pleasures. I hope she will make up for it by preparing for us another very agreeaUe in the meantime, that we may take in good heart the pains of too long an absence.” At this interesting point her majesty, who had, we may pre- sume, peeped over her noble attendant’s shoulder, and perceiving that her ladyship was bent on divulging as much of the important secret as her droll French would permit, interrupted her for the purpose of telling it herself, and her faithful amanuensis concludes in these words : “ I finish my letter to give place to a more worthy and perfect pen. If you turn the paper, you will be consoled.” The queen, who had been suffering much from inflammatory tooth- ache, and other ills incidental to her situation, and was always subject to great depression of spirits at such times, commences her letter rather in a tone of resignation than joy. She writes, on the same sheet of paper ; — “ It is necessary that I should explain to you lady Almonde’s letter [another of her ladies who had been giving hints on the subject, it should seem], for it is impossible for me to have a secret from you ; and I will tell you, that besides my inflammation, which has been very violent, and though abated is not yet gone, and besides the visit of the king, which I must receive to morrow, there is yet another reason that pre- 1692.] Queen reveals her expectation, 133 vents me from coming to you. It is, that I have some suspicious of pregnancy, but as I have not yet any certainty of it, I do not like to have it mentioned. In a few days I shall know positively, and then I will inform you, that is, if it should be verified. Alas 1 my dear mother, what pain to be so many months without seeing you ; but in that, as in all the rest, God is the master, and must do what he will. I entreat you not to speak of this little secret, unless it be to my sister la Deposee, To all the others, give the reasons of the inflammation and the visit of the king. I hope to-morrow to make my devotions in spirit with you and your holy daughters, and I believe that I shall not have less interest in your prayers and theirs absent, than if I could be present. My poor little Angelique will be much mortified : I assure you that I am very much also.”^ This letter is dated November 20, 1691. Her majesty’s situation was publicly declared on the 7th of January, 1692. James addressed sum- monses to the peeresses, the lady mayoress of London, the wives of the sheriffs, and also to Dr. Hugh Chamberlayne, the celebrated accoucheur, as well as to the lords, inviting them to be present at the birth of the expected infant. One of these summonses was addressed to his daughter Mary — “ That we may not be wanting to ourselves,” says he, “ now it hath pleased Almighty God, the supporter of truth, to give us hopes of further issue, our dearest consort, the queen, drawing near the time, we do therefore hereby signify our royal pleasure to you, that you may use all possible means to come with what convenient haste you may, the queen looking about the middle of May next (English account). And that you may have no scruple on our side, the most Christian king has given his consent to promise you, as we hereby do, that you shall have leave to come, and, the queen’s labour over, to return with safety.” Everything wore a flattering aspect at this conjunction. Louis XIY. was making preparations to assist James in the recovery of his crown, having received confident assurances that the army directed by Marl- borough, and the fleet by Kussell, would declare in favour of their old master. The princess Anne, who had sought a reconciliation with her father, answered for a part of the church ; the steady adhesion of such men as Bancroft, Ken, and six hundred of the clergy to their allegiance, was, in reality, a much more satisfactory pledge of the feelings of the church of England to James than any she could give. That eminent Protestant divine. Dr. Sherlock, dean of St. Paul’s, was a stanch advo- cate for the recall of king James, as long as he thought it could be done without plunging the nation into the horrors of a civil war. Like many houest members of the church of England, he was disgusted at the mass 1 From the original French holograph let- MSS., in the h 6 tel deSoubise, Paris, ter, begun by lady Sophia Bulkeley, and 2 Evelyn, finished by the queen.— Inedi ted Chaillot 134: Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ 1692 . of treachery and falsehood which had been employed by the authors of a revolution, necessary as a constitutional measure, but reflecting infinite disgrace on somoof the parties concerned in it. Sherlock, in his famous letter to a member of the convention, indignantly exposes the political falsehood of the existence of a treaty between Louis XIV. and James for the destruction of the Protestants. “ There is,” says he, ‘‘ one thing more 1 would beg of you, that the story of ‘ a French league to cut Protestant throats ’ be well examined, for this did more to drive the king out of the nation than the prince’s army ; and if this should prove a sham, as some who pretend to know say it is, it seems to be at least half an argument to invite the king back again.” ^ Letters and messages, full of professions of attachment, reached the exiled king or the queen daily from all parts of Great Britain. James determined to make another effort to regain his realm. The spirits of the queen fluctuated at this period. On the 19th of March she excused herself from asisting at the nuptials of Louis XIV.’s natural son, the due de Maine, with mademoiselle Charolois, on account of her situation. “ She had already,” she said, “ taken to her chamber, according to the ancient custom of the queens of England when near a confinement.” ^ It is probable that she had no wish to be present at this bridal, for she subsequently made various devotional visits to religious houses and churches in the neighbourhood of St. Germains, and even in Paris. On the 30th, the king of France and the dauphin attended one of the receptions in her bed-chamber at St. Germains, on which occasion the princess of Condi presented the newly-married duchess de Maine to her majesty. She remained in the greatest de- pression of spirits, on account of the approaching departure of the king for the coast of Xormandy, in order to join the expedition that was in preparation for his projected landing in England. Before he quitted St. Germains, James invested his boy, who had not yet com- pleted his fourth year, with the order of the Garter, and leaving his sorrowful queen surrounded by a crowd of weeping ladies, departed, April 21, for Caen, and from thence to La Hogue.^ Unfortunate in everything, he waited four weeks in vain for a favourable wind to cross to England, and in the meantime the Dutch fleet formed a junction with Bussell in the Downs, and appeared on the coast of France. Bussell, who was in correspondence with his old master, advised him to prevent a collision between the fleets. He was willing to let the squadron slip 1 The enemies of Sherlock afterwards he had duties to perform of a higher nature turned all he had said in favour of his old than those of a political partisan. He was a master, which was not little, against himself bright and a shining light in the church of when he took the oaths to king William ; England, and she required such men to com- but Sherlock was not called upon to resist fort her and support her apostolical charac* the powers that be. As a churchman, he ter, when bereaved of bishops like Ken. submitted to the change which a majority of 2 Dangeau. the nation had ordained, well knowing that s ibid. Life of James. 1692.J James lingers at the nogue, 135 by, but, for the honour of England, he must not be defied. The unseasonable bravery of the French admiral, Tourville, provoked an encounter that ended in the destruction of the French fleet. James, who was a spectator of the battle, on witnessing the admirable effect of his own naval tactics against his allies, cried out, ‘‘ Ha ! have they got Pepys on board ? ” But when he saw the British seamen from the boats scrambling up the lofty sides of the French vessels, he exclaimed, in a transport of national and professional enthusiasm, ‘‘ My brave English ! my brave English ! ” ^ The French officers warned him to retire, as he was in considerable danger, for the guns from the burning ships began to discharge their shot in all directions ; and scarcely had he withdrawn, when they raked the spot where he had been standing, and killed several of the officers. James obstinately lingered three weeks at La Hogue, after he had witnessed the annihilation of his hopes. Nothing could rouse him from the lethargic stupor into which he had sunk ; not even the repeated letters and messages from his anxious consort, who was in hourly expec- tation of her accouchement, and implored him to return to her. The melancholy depression of spirits in which the poor queen awaited that event in the lonely chateau of St. Germains, unsupported by the presence of her husband, is touchingly described by her own pen, in a letter to her friend, the abbess of Chaillot : — “ June 14, 1692. “ What shall I say to you, my beloved mother, or rather, what would not you say to me, if we could be one little quarter of an hour in each other’s arms ? I believe, however, that time would be entirely passed in tears and sighs, and that my eyes and my sobs would tell much more than my mouth ; for, in truth, what is there, after all, that can be said by friendship in the state in which lam?” After the first impassioned outpouring of the anguish and desolation with which the catastrophe at La Hogue had overwhelmed her, she endeavours to resign herself to the will of God. An internal conviction that they were vainly struggling against an immutable decree, is thus mournfully confessed : “ Oh, but the ways of God are far from our ways, and his thoughts are different from our thoughts. We perceive this clearly in our last calamity, and by the unforeseen, and almost super- natural mischances by which God has overthrown all our designs, and has appeared to declare himself so clearly against us for our overwhelm- ing. What then,” pursues the sorrowful queen, “ can we say to this, my beloved mother? or rather, is it not better that we should say nothing ; but, shutting the mouth, and bowing the head, to adore and to approve, if we can, all that God does, for he is the master of the universe, and it is very meet and right that all should be submitted tc 1 Dalrymple. 136 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1692. him. It is the Lord ; he has done what was good in his eyes.” ^ She goes on, with pathetic earnestness, to acknowledge the difficulty she feels in performing the Christian duty she describes : — “ This, my dearest mother, is what I wish to say and do, and to this, I believe you have yourself encouraged me by your words, as you do by your letters, which are always so precious to me ; hut I say it, and I do it, with so bad a grace, and so much against my will, that I have no reason to hope that it can be agreeable to God. Aid me to do it better by your prayers, and encourage me constantly by your letters, till we have the happiness of embracing each other again.” ^ The dissection of a letter so deeply confidential is certainly rather like unfolding the secrets of a confessional. Little did the royal writer imagine, that the various passions that agitated her mind as she penned it would, one day, be laid open to the whole world. The tragic emotions of the fallen queen, and the elevation of the Christian heroine, are alike forgotten in the natural apprehensions of the weak, suffering woman, when she alludes to her situation at this distressing crisis. “ I suffered much, both in body and mind, some days ago,” she says, ‘‘ but now 1 am better in both. I linger on still, in continual expectation of the hour of my accouchement. It will come when God wills it. I tremble with the dread of it ; but I wish much that it were over, so that I might cease to harass myself and everyone else any longer with this- suspense.” ^ Mary Beatrice had exceeded her reckoning nearly a month. If she had been brought to bed at the time specified by king James in his summons to the peers and peeresses, it would have been in the midst of the distress and consternation caused by the battle of La Hogue. How deeply hurt the poor queen felt at the unaccountable perversity of her lord, in continuing to absent himself from her, may be perceived from the tone of unwonted bitterness with which she adverts to his conduct. “ When I began my letter yesterday,” she says, “ I was in uncertainty what the king would do, and of the time when I might have the happiness of seeing him ; for he has not yet chosen to retire from La Hogue, though he has nothing to keep him there, and the state in which i am speaks for itself to make him come to me.^ In the meantime,” continues her majesty, with increasing pique at James’s strange insensibility to the importance of the impending event, and the necessity of making such arrangements as would render the birth of their expected infant a verification of the legitimacy of their son, “ he would not resolve on anything ; but he will find all well done, although it has cost me much to have it so without his orders, which my lord Melfort came to bring us this morning. It seems that, for the present, 1 Inedited letter of the queen of James II. 3 Jnedited letters of the queen of James II. to the abbess of Chaillot, dated June 14, 1692. in the archives of the kingdom of France — Archives of the kingdom of France. 4 a Ibid. 1692.] Distress and perplexity of the queen, 13 V the king has nothing to do but to return hither, till they can take other measures. Your great king [Louis XIV.] has received my lord Melfort very well, and has spoken to him of us, and of our affairs, in the most obliging manner in the world, and has even written to me in answer to the letter I sent to him by milord Melfort. This is a comfort to me, and the hope of having the king with me at my delivery consoles me much, for 1 believe he can be here by Saturday or Sunday next. Behold, my dear mother,” continues the sorrowful queen, “ a little statement of what has passed, and is passing in my poor heart : you know and can comprehend it better than I do myself. I pray you to embrace all our dear sisters, and to take leave of them for me before my lying-in, not knowing what may occur.” She adds, with almost childish simplicity, “ Permit the poor Angelique to kiss your hand in the place of mine, as often as she wishes.”^ When the mighty are put down from their seats, it is well if the unbought, un purchasable affection of the lowly and meek, who love them, not for their greatness, but for their misfortunes, can be appreciated at its real value. James did not return to St. Germains till the 21st of June.^ Plis recklessness of the confirmation it would have afforded to the imputa- tions on the birth of their son, if the queen had been brought to bed while he was away, together with his strange disregard to her feelings, appear indicative of an unsound state of mind. A report of that nature, it seems, reached England, and having been circulated with malignant pleasure by his enemies, the following sarcastic comment appeared in one of the papers in his interest : — “ ’Tis now affirmed that king James is run mad, and close confined. If he is not, he has gone through enough to make him so.” When Sir Charles Littleton, who had faith- fully adhered to James in his misfortunes, told him how much ashamed he felt that his son was with the prince of Orange, the royal father mournfully replied, “ Alas ! Sir Charles, wherefore ashamed ? are not my daughters with him.?” An impression that he was born to fulfil an adverse destiny, in which all who attempted to show him kindness would be ruinously involved, is avowed by James in the following letter, which he addressed to Louis XI Y. at this gloomy epoch — a letter certainly not written in the spirit of a politician : “ My evil star has had an influence on the arms of your majesty, always victorious but when fighting for me. I entreat you, therefore, to interest yourself no more for a prince so unfortunate ; but permit me to withdraw, with my family, to some corner of the world, where 1 may cease to be an interruption to your majesty’s wonted course of prosperity and glory.” ^ 1 Inedited letter ofthequoen of James II. to 3 Amedde Pichol's Historical Introduction the abbess of Chaillot, dated June 14-15, 1692, to the Life of Charles Edward Stuart, and Life of King James, from the Stuart Life of James. Papers. 138 3Iary Beatrice of Modena. [1692. Louis did not avail himself of the generous proposal of his desponding kinsman, to retire from France, and Heaven had still some blessings in store for the fallen king. On the 28th of June, Mary Beatrice gave birth to a daughter, at the palace of St. Germains, in the presence of all the princesses and great ladies of the court of France, except the dauphiness, who was in a dying state. All the English ladies and noble followers of the exiled court, the chancellor of France, the presi- dent of the parliament of Paris, the archbishop of Paris, and madame Meereroom, the wife of the Danish ambassador, were witnesses of the birth of the royal infant. Madame Meereroom was considered an im- portant witness, because opposed to the interest of king James ; but she could not help owning the absurdity of the aspersions that had been cast on the birth of his son.^ The morbid state of apathy in which king James had remained ever since the battle of La Hogue, yielded to softer emotions when he beheld the new-born princess. He welcomed her with a burst of parental affection, and bestowed the tenderest caresses upon her. When she was dressed, he presented her to the queen with these touching words, “ See what God has given us, to be our consolation in our exile !” ^ He called her “ his comforter,” because, he said, “ he had now one daughter who had never sinned against him.” He had confidently anticipated another son, but he declared himself abundantly grateful to heaven for the precious gift of this girl. She was baptized, with great pomp, in the chapel-royal of St. Germains. Louis XIV. returned from the siege of Mons in time to act in person as her sponsor : he and his sister-in-law, Elizabeth Charlotte, duchess of Orleans, held her at the font, and gave her the names of Louisa Mary. The French ladies were astonished at seeing the little princess, who was then only a month old, dressed in robes of state, and with shoes and stockings on her tiny feet. The shoes and stockings worn by the royal neophyte were begged by the nuns of Chaillot, and were carefully preserved by them among the curiosities of their convent.^ Eighteen days before the birth of the princess Louisa, the son of James 11. and Mary Beatrice completed his fourth year. Mary Beatrice assured the nuns of Chaillot “ that she never saw the king her husband in a passion but once, and that was with their little son, on account of his manifesting some symptoms of childish terror wnen he was only four years old.” ^ Her maternal anxiety tended to foster timidity in the child, which James feared might prove inimical to his future destiny. MS. Memorials of Mary Beatrice. 4 Ibid. * life of James by Stanier Clarke. 3 Ibid. 1692.] Consolation in adversity. 130 CHAPTER VII. An interval of repose, and even of domestic comfort, succeeded the birth of la Consolatrice, as James II. fondly called the child of his adversity. Mary Beatrice, though deprived of the pomp and power of royalty, and a queen only in name, was assuredly much happier in her shadowy court at St. Germains than she had been as a childless mother and neglected wife amidst the joyless splendours of Whitehall. She was now blest with two of the loveliest and most promising children in the world, and possessed of the undivided alfection of a husband, who was only the dearer to her for his misfortunes. Like the faithful ivy, she appeared to cling more fondly to the tempest-scathed oak in its leafless ruins, than when in its majestic prime. An eloquent tribute to the virtues and conjugal tenderness of this princess was offered to her, in the days of her exile and adversity, by the accomplished lord Lansdowne, in a poem entitled The Progress of Beauty, in which, after complimenting the reigning belles of William and Mary’s court, he adverts to the banished queen with a burst of generous feeling, far more gratifying than all the homage he had paid to her in the morning flower of her charms, when surrounded by the pride and pomp of royalty : — “ Queen of our hearts, and charmer of our sight, A monarch’s pride, his glory and delight. Princess adored and loved, if verse can give A deathless name, thine shall for ever live. 0 happy James ! content thy mighty mind, Grudge not the world, for still thy queen is kind; To lie but at her feet more glory brings, Than ’tis to tread on sceptres and on kings : Secure of empire in that beauteous breast, Who would not give their crowns to be so blest ?” James himself frankly acknowledged that he had never known what true happiness was till, rendered wise by many sorrows, he had learned fully to appreciate the virtues and self-devotion of his queen. He now regarded her not only with love, but veneration, and made it the prin- cipal business of his life to atone to her, by the tenderest attentions, for the pangs his former follies had inflicted on her sensitive heart. He knew that, possessed of her, he was an object of envy to his cousin, Lonis XIV., and was accustomed to say that, “ like Jacob, he counted his sufferings for nothing, having such a support and companion in them.”^ Blest in this perfect union, the king and queen endeavoured to resign themselves to the will of God, whose hand they both recognised in their present reverse of fortune. The first time James visited the convent of Chaillot after the battle 1 Continuator of James’s Life, from Stuart Papers. 140 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ 1692 . of La Hogue, the abbess, Frances Angelica Priolo, condoled with him on the disastrous termination of his hopes, and lamented “ that God had not granted the prayers which they had offered up for his success.” The king making no reply, she fancied he had not heard her, and began to repeat what she had said in a louder voice. “ My mother,” interposed the fallen monarch, gravely, “ I heard you the first time you spoke. I made you no answer, because I would not contradict you ; but you compel me to tell you that I do not think you right, for it seems to me as if you thought that what you asked of God were better than what he has done. All that God does is well done, and there is not anything well done but what he does.” ^ The abbess next proceeded to make a com- parison between him and St. Louis, when the great designs of that prince against the Saracens were overthrown. “Alas ! my mother,’’ replied James, “ do not compare me to that great saint. It is true, I resemble him in my misfortunes, but I am nothing like him in my works. He was always holy from his youth, but I have been a great sinner. I ought to look upon the afflictions which God has sent me, not as trials, but as the just chastisement of my faults.” ^ The senti- ments expressed by James on this occasion, in a letter to his friend, the bishop of Autun,- are those of a humble and contrite heart. “ God,” says he, “ is pleased to show, from time to time, by great events, that it is he that does all, to make us the more sensible that it is by him that kings do reign, and that he is the Lord of Hosts Ho enter- prise,” continues James, “was ever better concocted than the projected landing in England, and never was anything more visibly shown than that it was not permitted by God ; for, unless the winds had been con- trary to us, and always favourable to our enemies, the descent had been made. We ought to submit without murmuring to all that happens to us, since we are assured that it is God’s will it should be so.” ® On the 7th of November, 1692, Mary Beatrice paid one of her annual devotional visits to the convent of Chaillot, and remained there till the 10 th, the anniversary commemoration of the Joundress, queen Henrietta Maria, when king James, who had in the meantime made a retreat to the more lugubrious solitude of La Trappe, joined her, and they both assisted at the seiwices for the repose of the soul of that queen. The archbishop of Diey said the mass, and after all the ofiSces were ended, came to pay his compliments to their majesties in the state apartment. They had a long conversation on the state of religion in Dauphiny, which gi’eatly inclined to the doctrine of Geneva. The archbishop informed their majesties, that in the city of Diey fourteen bishops abjured Catholicism at once, and all the men in that town declared themselves Huguenots in one day. Their wives remained Catholics ten 1 Contemporary Life of James, and circular-letter of the convent of Chaillot 2 Circular-letter of the convent of Chaillot. Stuart Papers. ^ Ibid. 1692 .] Beceptions at Chaillot, 141 years, and then followed the example of their husbands. “Diey,” said he, “ is one of the most ancient bishoprics in France. The walls of the town were built by Julius Caesar, who named it the city of a hundred towers, there being that number round the wall, which I understand the enemy has demolished.”^ The queen lamented the destruction of so great a piece of antiquity. When the archbishop took his leave, the nuns were permitted to enter the queen’s presence-chamber. Their majesties were seated on a sofa, the nuns ranged themselves round the room ; but the queen requesting the abbess to permit them to sit, her reverence made a sign for them to seat themselves on the ground. The king and queen conversed pleasantly with them, and in reply to a question from the abbess about Charles II.’s death, Mary Beatrice related the particulars from beginning to end, with some assistance from her* husband, who occasionally took up the word. One of the community wrote the whole narrative down exactly as it was related by their majesties. This curious and most interesting historic document is still in existence in the archives of France, entitled The Recital of the Death of his late Majesty, king Charles.^ In the course of the relation Mary Beatrice frankly told her consort, before every one, “ that he would have done better if he had persuaded his brother to avow his religion, instead of resorting to so many little expedients about clearing the chamber. She thought deception,” she said, “ very wrong at such a time, and on such a subject.” The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of several ladies of quality, who wished to have the honour of paying their homage to the king and queen. Their majesties consented to receive them, and the community of nuns retired. The queen gave a second reception after the vespers, which was attended by the Orleans family, and others of the great ladies of Fiunce. The earnestness with which the queen apologizes to the superior of the convent of Chaillot, for her carelessness in forgetting to give her some money which she had promised to solicit from king James for a case of distress, is amusing. Her letter is only dated — “ At St. Germains, this Saturday.® “ I do not know, my dear mother, whether you can pardon me the great fault which I committed the other day with regard to you. I know well that I can never pardon myself, and that I have some trouble in pardoning you for not having reminded me, when I was with yon, to give you that which I had brought for you, and before I was as far as Versailles I found it in my pocket. It is certain that I felt myself blush so much on discovering it, that if it had been day instead of night, my ladies would have been astonished at the change in my countenance ; and I assure you I am truly annoyed with myself about it. I have told 1 Chaillot MS. 2 Ibid. 3 From the original French holograph, in the h6tel de Soubise. 142 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1693, the king that I had forgotten, the other day, to give you his money for the alms that you had asked, and I have begged him to take it himself to-day, and to give it to you with my letter. He undertook to do it with all his heart, without questioning me upon it, and you, m.y ever dear mother, forget, if you can, a fault of memory, but not of the heart assuredly.” Indorsed — “ To the reverend mother, Superior of the Visitation de. Chaillot.” The death of the Bavarian dauphiness, la grande Dauphine^ as she is called in the memoirs of the period, took place in the spring of 1693 , after a lingering illness, during which Mary Beatrice frequently paid her sympathizing visits, although the dauphiness had always looked upon her as a rival in the regard of Louis XIV., and was jealous of the cere- monial marks of respect that were paid to her on account of her empty title of queen of England. After the funeral of this princess, Mary Beatrice came to Versailles in her black mantle of state mourning, to pay her visits of condolence to the king, who received her in his great cabinet. There were present twenty ladies, who were allowed seats. She visited and condoled with the widowed dauphin and his children, and monsieur and madame. The exiled king and queen had succeeded in carrying away a great many of the crown jewels, as well as those which were their own per- sonal property. Among the precious things which they secured was a casket full of rose nobles, coined during the reign of the sovereigns of the house of Lancaster. These had become very scarce, and a superstitious value was attached to them at that time in Europe, as it was believed that the gold from which they were struck had been the fruits of some successful alchymist’s labours in transmuting inferior metals into gold. One of these Lancasterian coins was regarded as a valuable present by the ladies of the French court, and the queen was glad to increase her influence by all the little courtesies in her power.^ The jewels were parted with, one by one, in cases of extremity. Mary Beatrice sometimes accompanied her husband in his journeys to La Trappe, where he formed a friendship with the abbe de Kance, and, till his death, kept up a constant correspondence with him. The Eng- lish reader will take little interest in the fact that the devotion of this princess greatly edifled even the strictest Trappists ; yet her religion, though differing in many points from that mode of faith which the true Protestant thinks most acceptable to Him who loves to be worshipped in spirit and in truth, was a vital and sustaining principle. A contem- porary, who bears record of the consoling influence of religion on the heart of king James, says of his consort : “ She has the same disengage- ment from things below. She looks upon those, which here are called i Memoirs of the Marquise de Crequi. 1693.] Her portrait, 143 goods, but as flashes of light that pass away in a moment, which have neither solidity nor truth, but deceive those w^ho set their hearts upon them.” ^ Mary Beatrice was now in her thirty-fifth year, but neither time nor sorrow had destroyed the personal graces which had been so lavishly bestowed upon her by nature. James earl of Perth, when writing in terms of great commendation of the charming duchess of Arenberg to his sister, the countess of Errol, says : “ She is one of the most beautiful and every way accomplished ladies I ever saw, except our queen, who deserves the preference for her merit to all I have known.” ^ The fine original portrait of Mary Beatrice in the collection of Walter Strickland, esq., of Sizergh, must have been painted about this period. The elevated coiffure there represented was then the prevailing mode at the court of France, but far less becoming to the classical outline of the Italian princess than the floating ringlets of her more familiar portraits by Lely, or the Grecian fillet and strings of pearls with which her hair is arranged by Eottier, in her medals. When duchess of York, or queen of England, it was sufficient for her to consult her own exquisite taste in such matters, but in France she was compelled to submit to the tyranny of fashion. In conformity to this, her luxuriant tresses were turned up almost straight from her brow, and combed over a cushion, above which the back hair was arranged in a full wreath of curls, and brought sloping down each side the head, A most trying style to any face, adding an unnatural height to the forehead, and a great stifi'ness to the general outline of the figure. Her dress in the original painting is of royal blue velvet, furred with miniver, the bodice fitting tight to the shape, and clasped with a jewelled stomacher, full sleeves looped with jewels, and point-lace rufifies. The portrait, which is supposed to be a Kigaud, is an exquisite work of art. It was presented by the exiled queen to her faithful friend lady Siirickland, together with a portrait of the princess Louisa, as the only rewards fortune had left in her power to bestow on that lady, after thirty years of devoted service through every vicissitude. These royal gifts are heirlooms in the possession of the direct descendant of Sir Thomas and lady Strickland, at Sizergh-castle Westmoreland.^ 1 Circular-letter of the convent of Chaillot on the Life and Death of James II., king of England. 2 Letters of James earl of Perth : edited by W. Jerdan. Published by the Camden Society. 3 Madame Caylus, or her editor, has brought a most injurious and unfounded charge against lady Strickland, whose losses of property, banishment from home and country, and fidelity unto death, sufficiently disprove it. She expired in the Benedictine convent at Rouen^ some mouths before the death of her royal mistress ; her single-hearted and kind disposition is apparent from her will, in which she leaves some trifle of personal pro- perty to all her relatives, and apologizes touchingly for her poverty, having so little to leave. If madame Gaylus’s charge of treachery were true, why was lady Strick- land’s husband and family deprived of the fine manor of Thornton Briggs, inherited from Catherine Neville.? being the only landed property not secured from the grasp of William UI. hy being made over for a no- minal consideration to some faithful servant 144 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1693. Another oi the French portraits of the consort of James II. is in the royal historical gallery at Versailles. A crimson curtain in the back- ground is drawn aside, and shows the parterre of St. Germains in the distance. That palace, so interesting to English travellers as the refuge of the last monarch of the royal Stuart dynasty and his faithful queen, and subsequently an asylum for their noble mined lollowers, was plun- dered of its valuable paintings and furniture at the French revolution, and has, within the last few years, been converted into a mihtary peni- tentiary. The chateau remains externally nearly the same as when James II. and Mary Beatrice held their melancholy courts there, but the interior has suffered a desecrating change. The great presence-chamber, where the exiled king and queen entertained the grand monarque, the dauphin, and all the princes and princesses of the Orleans, Conde, and Conti lineage, is now converted into a tailor’s atelier. Fauteuils, pliants, and tabourets, are no longer objects of angry contention there. The ignoble board, Avhere the military needle-men are seated in the equality of shame at their penal tasks, has superseded all those graduated scales of privi- leged accommodation for the full-grown children of high degree in ancient France, who wearied the vexed spirit of a queen of England with their claims and absurd pretensions. A portion of the private suite of the king and queen’s apartments remains unaltered. King James’s morning room or cabinet, with its dark green and gold panelling and richly carved cornice, presents a melancholy appearance of faded splendour. It opens with glass doors upon the stately balcony that sur- rounds the chateau, and commands a charming and extensive prospect. It was here that the fallen king retired to read or write : this room com- municated with the queen’s bedchamber by a private stair, and, indeed, with the whole of that Aving of the palace, by a number of intricate passages which lie behind it. In one of the lobbies there is a small square window, which commands a vieAv of the royal closet, so that any one ambushed there might look doAvn upon his majesty, and watch all his proceedings A pleasing tradition connected Avith this window was related to me by a noble lady, Avhose great-grandmother, Mrs. Plowden, was One of the ladies in the household of queen Mary Beatrice. Mrs, Plowden’s infant family lived with her in the palace of St. Germains, and she sometimes found it necessary, by way of punishment, to shut up her little daughter Mary, a pretty spoiled child of four years old, in the lobby leading from her own apartment to the queen’s backstairs. But the young lady always obtained her release by climbing to the little window that looked doAvn into the king’s closet, and tapping at the glass till she had attracted his attention ; then showing her Aveeping fe,cc, and clasping her hands in an attitude of earnest entreaty, she would cry, in a sorrowful tone, “ Ah, sire! send for me.” James, unless deeply engaged in business of importance, always complied with the request of 1693.] The rising generation at St, Germains, 145 the tearful petitioner, for he was very fond of children ; and when Mrs. Plowden next entered the royal presence with the queen, she was sure to find her small captive closeted with his majesty, sitting at his feet, or sometimes on his knee. At last, she said to the king, “ I know not how it happens, but whenever my little girl is naughty, and I shut her up in the lobby, your majesty does her the honour of sending for her into your closet.” James laughed heartily, and pointing to the window above, explained the mystery. It was fortunate that James and his queen were fond of children, and indulgent to them, for their royal abode at St. Germains was full of the young families of their noble attendants, who, having forsaken houses and lands for their sake, had now no other home. There were little Middletons, Hays, Dillons, Bourkes, Stricklands, Plowdens, Staffords, Sheldons, and many of the children of their Protestant followers also, who might be seen sporting together in the parterres in excellent good fellowship, or forming a mimic court and body-guard for the little prince, whose playmates they were, and the sharers of his infantile pleasures. These juvenile Jacobites were objects of the tenderest in- terest to the exiled king and queen, who, when they went to promenade on the terrace, were always surrounded by them, and appeared like the parents of a very numerous progeny. The chateau, indeed, resembled an over-crowded bee-hive, only that the young swarms were fondly cherished, instead of being driven forth into the world. Other emigrants there were, for whom the king and queen could do but little in propor- tion to their wants. The town of St. Germains and its suburbs were filled with Scotch, English, and Irish Jacobite families, who had sacri- ficed everything in their fruitless efforts for the restoration of king James, and were, for the most part, in a state of utter destitution. The patience with which they bore the sufferings they had incurred for his sake, pierced the heart of that unfortunate prince with the most poignant grief. Both he and Mary Beatrice imposed rigorous self-denial on them- selves, in order to administer to the wants of their followers. “ King James used to call, from time to time, into his cabinet some of those indigent persons, of all ranks, who were too modest to apply to him for aid, and distributed to them, folded up in small pieces of paper, five, ten, fifteen, or twenty pistoles, more or less, according to the merit, the quality, or the exigency of each.” ^ The little prince and his sister, as soon as they were old enough to understand the sufferings of the Jacobite families, devoted all their pocket-money to their relief. The princess, from a very tender age, paid for the education of several of the daughters of the British emigrants, and nothing could induce her to diminish her little fund by the pur- * Nairne’s Recollections of James II„ in Macpherson’s Stnart Papers. VOL. V. L 146 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1693. chase of toys for herself.^ Her natural vivacity was softened and sub- dued by the scenes of sorrow and distress amidst which she was born and reared, and while yet an infant in age, she acquired the sensibility and tenderness of womanhood. Both in person and disposition there was a great resemblance between her and the queen her mother, with this difference, that she was of a, more energetic character. She had quick talents and ready wit. Her state governess was the countess of Middleton, to whom she was greatly attached, but her love for her parents and her brother amounted almost to passion. Mary Beatrice fully participated in the pain which it cost the unfor- tunate James to disband his household troops, composed of the noble- minded and devoted gentlemen who, with unavailing loyalty, had attached themselves to his ruined fortunes, and were starving in a foreign land for his sake. In one of her letters to her friend Angelique Priolo, she feelingly alludes to this measure, which was dictated to the fallen majesty of England by the then arbiter of his destiny, Louis XIV. “ Yesterday,” writes the consort of king James, “we went to Versailles. At present, I can inform you that we are in good health, God be thanked ! It is long since I have seen the king look so well, but his kind heart, as well as mine, has suffered much for some days from this desolating reform that awaits us, and which we have endeavoured to prepare for during the last few months ; it has at length begun among our poor troops. I can assure you, with truth, that the desperate condition of these poor people touches us far more keenly than our own calamities. At the same time I must tell you, that we are perfectly satisfied with che king [Louis XIV.], as we have good grounds to be, for he gpoke to us yesterday with much kindness about it, and convinced us that, if it had not been for the consideration he has for us, and the desire he has to please us, he should not have kept a fourth part of those whom he has retained, and whom he will keep well for love of us. I will enter into all the details of this when I have the pleasure of seeing you, which will be in a fortnight, if it please God. In the meantime, I beg you not to speak of this affair, for it is not yet public, but it soon will Pray much for us, my dear mother,” continues the fallen queen, “ for in truth we need it much. I never cease to pray for you as for myself, to the end that God would make his grace abound in the replenishing our hearts with his sacred love ; and if we should be so happy as to obtain this of him, we may be indifferent to everything else, and even satisfied with all we have lost, so that we possess him.” A pious Latin aspiration from the Psalms concludes this letter, which is merely signed with the initial “ M.” A few devotional sentences, in a child's text-hand, were originally enclosed, which the fond mother explains to her friend in the following postscript : — 1 Chaillot MS. 1693.] Grief at parting with distressed Scotch cavaliers, 147 “ Here is a prayer from the hand of my son, which seems written well enough to he sent to you. I believe that my dear mother will be glad to have something in her hands which comes from those of that dear child.” ^ Deeply interested, of course, were the sisters of Chaillot in the son of their royal patron and patroness, the exiled king and queen of England^ The singular beauty and amiable disposition of this child, his docility and precocious piety, rendered him an attractive visitor to the ladies of St. Cyr, as well as those of Ghaillot. “ I will send my son when you wish,” writes the queen to the abbess of Chaillot, at a time when that lady was on a visit to the superior of St. Cyr. “ Send me word if you think he will annoy madame de Maintenon, for in that case I will send him while she is on her journey. If not, I will send him one day next week.” 2 In the course of the desolating reform, as Mary Beatrice had emphati- cally termed the reduction of the military establishment of her unfortu- nate lord at St. Germains, a touching scene took place between king James and the remnant of the brave followers of Dundee.® “ They con- sisted of 150 officers, all of honourable birth, attached to their chieftains and each other, and glorying in their political principles. Finding themselves a burden upon the late king, whose finances could scarcely suffice for the helpless who hung on him, they petitioned that prince for leave to form themselves into a company of private sentinels, asking no other favour but to be permitted to choose their own officers. James assented : they repaired to St. Germains to be reviewed by him before they were incorporated with the French army. A few days after they came, they dressed themselves in accoutrements borrowed of a French regiment, and drew up in order in a place through which he was to pass as he went to the chase. He asked who they were ? and was surprised to find they were the same men with whom, in garbs better suited to their rank, he had the day before conversed at his levee. Struck with the levity of his own amusement, contrasted with the misery of those who were suffering for him, he returned pensive to his palace. The day he reviewed them he passed along their ranks, and wrote in his pocket- book with his own hand every gentlemans name, and gave him his thanks in particular : then removing to the front, bowed to the body with his hat off. He essayed to withdraw, but returned, bowed to them again, and burst into a passion of tears. The regiment knelt, bent their eyes on the ground, then rose, and passed him with the usual honours of war.”^ The parting speech which James addressed to them con- cludes with these words : — “ Should it be the will of God ever to restore me to my throne, it 1 Chaillot MS ^ Daliymple’s Memoirs of Great Britain * Ibid. < Dalrymple. L 2 148 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1693. would be impossible for me ever to forget your sufferings. The'e is no rank in my armies to which you might not pretend. As to the prince, my son, he is of your own blood ; he is already susceptible of every impression. Brought up among you. he can never forget your merit. I have taken care that you shall be provided with money, and with shoes and stockings. Fear God ; love one another. Write your wants par- ticularly to me, and be assured that you will find in me always a parent as well as a king.” One of these gallant gentlemen, captain Ogilvie, was the author of one of the first and most touching of the Scottish Jacobite songs ; ^ — “ It was a.* for our rightful king, We left fair Scotia’s etrand,” &c. The conduct of this new Scotch brigade, both in Spain and Germany excited the admiration of all the French army, and, as related by Dal- rymple,2 forms one of the fairest pages in the history of modern chivalry. A charming trait of the son of James II. and Mary Beatrice, in connection with some of these unfortunate gentlemen, verified the truth of that monarch’s assertion, “ that the prince was already susceptible of every impression and also, that he had been early imbued by his parents with a tender sympathy for the sufferings of their faithful friends. Fourteen of the Scotch brigade, unable to endure the life of common soldiers, returned to St. Germains to thank king James for having written to their commander to obtain their discharge, and permission for them to return to Scotland ; or in case they chose to remain in France, promising to peUsion them out of his personal savings. James received them with the kindness and affection their attachment had merited. Four of the number, who were too much impaired in constitution to return home, continued at St. Germains. One day, when listlessly strolling near the iron palisades of the palace, they saw a boy of six years old about to get into a coach emblazoned with the royal arms of Great Britain ; this child was the son of the exiled king and queen, the disinherited prince of Wales, who was going to join the promenade of the French court at Marli. He recognised the unfortunate emigrants, and instead of entering the carriage, made a sign for them to approach. They advanced respectfully, and spontaneously offered the mark of homage which, according to the custom of the times, was always paid to persons of royal rank, by kneeling and kissing his hands, which they bathed with their tears. The princely boy graciously raised them, and with that touching sensibility which is often prematurely developed by early misfortunes, expressed his grateful appreciation of their loyalty. 1 Captain Ogilvie was of the family of king were Roman catholics ; the rest belonged Inverquharity. He served king James at to the reformed episcopalian church of S^t- the Boyne, and was one of the brave Scottish land. exiles who fell at the battle of the Rhine. * Memoirs of Great Britain. Only four of these followers of the banished 1693.] Old Jacobite hotel at St. Germains^ Le Prince de Galles. 1 49 He told them “ that he had often heard of their valour, and that it made him proud, and that he had wept for their misfortunes as much as he had done for those of his own parents ; but he hoped a day would come that would convince them that they had not made such great sacrifices for ungrateful princes.” ^ He concluded by presenting them with his little purse, containing ten or twelve pistoles, and requesting them to drink the king’s health. Both words and action were unprompted, and from his own free impulse. The boy had been virtuously trained ; indeed it was subsequently seriously lamented by the Jacobites “that the queen, his mother, had brought the prince up more for heaven than earth.” Gold too highly refined is not fit for common use, and requires a certain portion of alloy to make it bear the stamp which gives its currency. At the untimely death of his first state-governess, the marchioness of Powis, Mary Beatrice had expressed an earnest wish that she could have the countess of Errol, the widow of the hereditary grand- constable of Scotland, to supply the place of that lamented lady, as she considered her the fittest woman in all the world to have the charge of her son. Just at the moment when the queen’s anxiety was at its height, the countess having received an intimation of her majesty's wish for her services, made her escape from Scotland, presented herself at St. Germains, and received the appointment. The sign of the ancient Jacobite hotel, “ Le Prince de Galles,” has every appearance of being a contemporary relic of the Stuart court. It has a portrait of the chevalier St. George on either side, coarsely enamelled on metal, representing that unfortunate prince at two distinct periods of his boyhood, and in different costumes. On one side we see him as a smiling round-faced child of seven or eight years old, with flowing ringlets, and royally robed in a vest and mantle of cloth of gold ; in the other he is about thirteen, tall and slender, arrayed in a cuirass and point-lace cravat, his natural ringlets carefully arranged in the form of a periwig, and tied together with a blue riband. In both portraits he is decorated with the order of the Garter. The late proprietor of the “ Prince de Galles ” was offered and refused a thousand francs for this curious old sign, and declared that he would not part with it for any price. When a miniature of this prince was shown to pope Innocent- XII., the old man, though anything but a friend to James and Mary Beatrice, was so charmed with the representation of their child, that he kissed it, and said, “ he would fain hope to see the restoration of that angel to his just right.” The earl of Perth, by whom this little incident is recorded, says, “ this picture was brought to Rome by father Mar, and that it was accounted very like the young prince ; and,” continues he, “ I really * Amedee Pichot. 150 Mary Beatrice of Modma, [ 1693 . believe it, for one sees of the king and queen both in it. He is wonder- fully handsome.” ^ The exiled king and queen of England were invited to the bridal fete of their young relative, mademoiselle d’Orleans, with the duke of Lor- raine. On this occasion the queen writes rather a lively letter from Fontainebleau, giving her cloistered friend at Chaillot a little account of the manner in which her consort and herself were passing their time in that gay and magnificent court. “Fontainebleau, 17th October. “ According to my promise, my dear mother, I send you my news of this place, which is good, God be thanked, as far as regards health, although the life I lead here is very different from that at St. Germains. I have been already four times to the chase, and we have beautiful weather. The king [Louis XIY.], according to his wont, loads us with benefits and a thousand marks of friendship. Of this we are not the less sensible because we are accustomed to it from him. On the contrary, at every fresh proof, we are penetrated with more lively feelings of grati- tude. Our departure is delayed till next Friday ; that of the duchess of Lorraine has rendered us all very sad.^ She was so much afflicted her- self, that one could not look at her without weeping. Monsieur and madame were, and still are, full of compassion at seeing it. They did not return here till yesterday evening. The young bride preserved a demeanour throughout that has charmed all the world, and me in par- ticular, who have always loved, and now esteem her more than ever. I have seen madame de M — [Maintenon] twice : she has been indisposed, but at present she is better. I entered yesterday with her on the chapter of Chaillot very naturally : I told her what I had resolved with you, and many other things. She told me that she had represented to the king the state of your house. If, however, you would not be flattered, it is necessary that I should tell you that 1 do not believe you will gain any- thing by that at present, for a reason I will tell you when I see you. I am in doubt whether I should speak to her again ; I have no great inclination, for, in truth, I am ashamed of her and of myself, that I had not power to obtain anything. I do not seem to have anything to reproach myself with on this matter, seeing that I did all, and will do all I can think of, to render you a little service.” ® There was a grand review, in the plain of Houille, of the French and Swiss guards, at which James and his queen were present. As soon as they arrived on the ground, the king of France made queen Mary Beatrice come into his coach, in which mademoiselle, and his daughter- 1 Perth Correspondence, edited by W. Jer- Elizabeth queen of Bohemia ; therefore doubiy dan, esq.: Camden Society related to James 11. She proved a firm fiiend - She was the daughter of the duke of Or- to his son. loans by his secotid wife, Elizabeth Charlotte * From the original French autograph, of Bavaria, and the great-grand-daughter of Chaillot collection Three healths. 151 1694.] in-law the duchess of Maine, were already seated. Louis was ever and anon at the door of the carriage, to do the honours of the review to her, and took much trouble in explaining to her the evolutions of the troops. The prince-royal of Denmark was also at this review and was treated with great attention. James and his queen met this prince at all the balls, hunts, and other amusements, with amity, notwithstanding his close relationship to prince George. They were both at the royal hunt on the 20th of February, where the prince was very much astonished at the grand huntsman, the due de Rochefoulcault, giving the baton to the exiled king of England — a compliment only paid to the princes of the blood-royal of France, but always to king James. Neither James nor his consort were forgotten, meantime, in England, where the enormous taxes of William’s war-government, together with his exclusive Dutch patronage and other grievances, caused many to recur with regretful feelings to “ the king over the water,” as they signi- ficantly styled the deposed sovereign. The following enigmatical song, entitled “ Three Healths,” was sung at convivial meetings by the J acobite partisans at this period, both in country and town : — “THREE HEALTHS. A JACOBITE SONG. “To ane king and no king, ane uncle and father, To him that’s all these, yet allowed to be neither ; Come, rank round about, and hurrah to our standard ; If you’ll know what I mean, here’s a health to our landlord ! To ane queen and no queen, ane aunt and no mother. Come, boys, let us cheerfully drink off another ; And now, to be honest, we’ll stick by our faith. And stand by our landlord as long as we’ve breath. To ane prince and no prince, ane son and no bastard, Beshrew them that say it ! a lie that is fostered ! God bless them all three ; we’ll conclude with this one, It’s a health to our landlord, his wife, and his son. To our monarch’s return one more we’ll advance. We’ve a king that’s in Flanders, another in France ; Then about with the health, let him come, let him come, then. Send the one into England, and both are at home then.” 1 The year 1694 commenced with a strong confederacy of the aristo- cracy of Great Britain to bring back “ the good old farmer and his wife,” as James and Mary Beatrice were, among other numerous cognomens, designated in the Jacobite correspondence of that epoch. The part acted by Marlborough in these intrigues will be seen in the following 1 This is one of the oldest Jacobite songs, admirable. The epithets, uncle and aunt, and is from the collection of Sir Walter Scott, allude to the relationship of the exiled king It was written during the life of James II. and queen to William HI. The epigrammatic turn of the last verse is 152 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1694. letters from James’s secret agent and himself, from which it should appear that both placed great reliance on the prudence of the queen : — Letter from General Sackfield^to Lord Melfort. “ May 3, 1694. “ I have just now received the enclosed for the king. It is from lord Churchill, but no person but the queen must know from whom it comes. For the love of God, let it be kept a secret. I send it by express, judg- ing it to be of the utmost for the service of my master [king James], and consequently, for the service of his most Christian majesty’ [Louis XlV.j. Marlborough to James II. (enclosed in the above'). “ It is only to-day I have learned the news I now write you ; which is, that the bomb-ketches and twelve regiments encamped at Ports- mouth, with two regiments of marines, all commanded by Talmarsh,^ are destined for burning the harbour of Brest, and destroying all the men-of-war which are there. This will be a great advantage to Eng- land, but no consideration can prevent, or ever shall prevent me, from informing you of all that I believe to be for your service. Therefore you may make your own use of this intelligence, which you may depend upon being exactly true ; but I must conjure you, for your own interest, to let no one know but the queen and the bearer of this letter. Eussell sails to-morrow, with forty ships : the rest are not yet paid, but it is said that in ten days the rest of the fleet will follow. I endea- voured to learn this from admiral Eussell, but he always denied it to me, though I am sure he knew this design for six weeks. This gives me a bad sign of that man’s intentions. I shall be well pleased to learn that this letter comes safe into your hands.” Of a very different character from this double-minded favourite of for- tune, were some of the devoted gentlemen who had adhered to James and Mary Beatrice in their adversity. The disinterested affection to both that pervades the following letter from the earl of Perth, then at Eome, to Colin earl of Balcarres, is an honour to human nature : — “ My heart has not been capable of any joy like what yours must feel now, when you are to see our king and queen. I’m sure it must be such a one as, to me, is inconceivable at present. I’m told, from home, that there’s no defence against the forfaulture [forfeiture] of my family. I thank God I have never been tempted to wish it might subsist upon any other terms than to be serviceable to my dearest master. If things 1 See Original Stuart Papers, in Macpher- Report to James II. — Macpherson’s State son, vol. i. p. 444. The name is often spelled Papers, rol. i. p. 480. The unfortunate Sackville. general Talmash (Tollemache) and his regi- 2 See Dalrymple’s Memoirs of Great Bri- ments were the victims of this information, tain, vol. ii. pp. 44, 45. Likewise many and a disastrous defeat of the British forces curious confirmatory particulars, and Lloyd's occurred, June 8, 1694, at Brest. 1694.] Gift of brocaded satin dress. 153 go well with him, I need not fear ; and if not, should I beg a morsel of bread, I hope I shall never complain. Give him and his lady my duty, and kiss our young master’s hand for me. I have no longing but to see them altogether, and I must confess I languish for that happiness. I’m sure, if somebody have anything, you will not want ; so you may call for it until your own money arrives. Continue to love, my dearest lord, yours entirely,” &c.^ Every year, Mrs. Pen, the wife of James’s former protege, the founder of Pennsylvania, paid a visit to the court of St. Germains, carrying with her a collection of all the little presents which the numerous friends and well-wishers of James II. and his queen could muster. Mrs. Pen was always affectionately received by the king and queen, although she maintained the fact that the revolution was necessary, and what she did was from the inviolable affection and gratitude she personally felt towards their majesties.^ Mary Beatrice, as far as she was able, rewarded the loyal adherents of low degree, who assisted the Jacobite cause. The remains of a rich bro- caded satin dress, which she sent to Mrs. Scott, the wife of an Aberdeen skipper, who undertook the perilous office of conveying letters and packets for the royal exiles, between Scotland and France, are still in existence ; and though the wear and tear of a century and a half have faded the brightness of the colours and fretted the richness of the once glossy surface of the material, it is still regarded with no ordinary interest, and has been commemorated in a quaint poem, by a local bard, from which the following lines are selected : — “ The HisroRr op the Silk. “ When James o’er Great Britain no longer could reign He fled, and held his court at St. Germain ; And Captain Scott, who sailed from Aberdeen, Would sometimes carry parcels for the queen. The queen, in order to express Her gratitude to Captain Scott, Sent to his wife a bra’ new dress, And that’s the way this silk was got.” ^ Unfortunately, James and his queen were surrounded by spies at St. Germains, and their faithful friends became known and marked persons, in consequence of their rash confidence in traitors. The following is a specimen of the intelligence constantly forwarded to the government of Great Britain by one of William’s spies at St. Germains : — “ There was one Mrs. Ogilvie sent to Scotland with the answers 1 Notes of lord Lindsay’s Biographical Notice of his ancestor, Colin earl of Balcarres ; Balcarres’ Memorial, printed by the Banna- tyne Club. * Kennersley’s Life of Pen, 1'740. Mrs. Pen was the daughter of a cavalier of good family. * The Miss Boyds, of Aberdeen, who in- herited the relics of this royal present from a descendant of Mrs. Scott, kindly presented me with a portion of the brocade, and a copy of the original verses from which the above is given. 154 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ 1694 . of some letters slie had brought the late queen from that country. She is to be found at the countess of Carnwath’s lodgings, in Edin- burgh.”! Mary Beatrice paid her annual visit to Chaillot, in September, and remained till the king joined her there, for the anniversary of his royal mother’s death. Their majesties attended all the services performed on this occasion, and afterwards went to visit one of the aged sisters who was sick in the infirmary. They remained with her a full quarter of an hour, and then dined together in the queen’s apartment, in the presence of the community. The queen begged the abbess to tell the sisters not to keep their eyes always fixed on the ground, but to raise them ; observing, “ that they all seemed as serious as if they were at a funeral.” While they were at dinner, their majesties talked on various subjects. James drew a lively picture of the occupations of men of the world who are governed by their passions, whether of ambition, love, pleasure, or avarice ; and concluded by observing, “ that none of those things could give content or satisfaction, but that the peace of God alone could comfort those who were willing to bear the cross patiently for the love of him.” The conversation turning on death, the king ex- pressed so much desire for that event, that the queen was much dis- tressed. “ Alas !” said she, with tears in her eyes, “ what would become of me and of your little ones, if we were deprived of you?” — “ God,” he replied, “ will take care of you and our children ; for what am I but a poor, feeble man, incapable of doing anything without him 1” Mary Beatrice, whose heart was full, went to the table to con- ceal her emotion, by pretending to look for a book. The assistant sister, who tenderly loved the queen, softly approached the king, and said to him, “We humbly entreat your majesty not to speak of your death to the queen, for it always afflicts her.” “ I do so to prepare her for that event,” replied James, “ since it is a thing which, in the course of nature, must soon occur, and it is proper to accustom her to the cer- tainty of it.” James only missed a few days of completing his sixty- first year at the time this conversation took place, and he was prema- turely old for that age. The assistant said to the queen, when they were alone, “ Madame, I have taken the liberty of begging the king not to talk of death to your majesty, to make you sad.” The queen smiled, and said to her, “ It will not trouble me any more. He is accustomed to talk to me about it very often, and above all, I am sure that it will not accelerate his death a single moment.” The devoted love of Mary Beatrice led her to perform the part of a ministering angel to her sorrow-stricken lord ; but the perpetual penances and austerities to which he devoted himself, must have had, I Carstair’s State Papers, edited by MacCormick. 1694.] Death of the dulce of Modena, her brother, 155 at times, a depressing effect on her mind. Like his royal ancestor, James lY. of Scotland, he wore an iron chain about his waist, and inflicted many needless sufferings on his person.^ James and Mary Beatrice were about to pay a visit to the French court at Fontainebleau, when an express arrived from Louis XIV. to give James a private inti- mation of the death of the queen’s only brother, Francisco II., duke oi Modena, who died September 6th, at Gossuolo, of the gout, and a com- plication of cruel maladies, in the thirty-fourth year of his age. In the evening, James broke the news to Mary Beatrice, who was much afflicted. All the amusements of the French court were suspended for some days, out of compliment to her feelings ; and she received visits and letters of condolence from all the members of the royal family and great nobles of France. In reply to a letter written by her on this occa- sion to the due de Yendome, the grandson of Henry lY. and the fair Gabrielle, she says : — “ My Cousin, “ The obliging expressions in the letter that you have written to me on the death of my brother, the duKe of Modena, correspond fully with the opinion I have always had of the affection with which you interest yourself in all that concerns me. I wish to assure you that in the midst of my grief I am very sensible of the marks of sympathy which you give me, and that I shall be always, with much esteem, my cousin, “ Your very affectionate cousin, “ Marie K. “ At St. Germain-en-Laye, the 27th of Oct., 1694.” 2 The brother of Mary Beatrice was the founder of the university of Modena : as he died childless, she would have succeeded to his domi- nions, if the order of investiture had not preferred the more distant males.^ Her uncle Kinaldo, therefore, inherited the dukedom without a question, and obtained leave to resign his cardinal’s hat, that he might many the princess Charlotte Felicite, the eldest daughter of John Fre- 1 ChaillotMS.' ' 2 Printed in Delort’s Journeys in the Envi- rons of Paris. 3 Gibbon’s Antiquities of the House of Brunswick. L’Art de Verifier les Dates. Hercules Renaud, the grandson and repre- sentative of the uncle of queen Mary Bea- trice, had an only daughter, who bore the same name. This Mary Beatrice d’Este the younger was compelled by her father to marry the archduke Ferdinand, the brother of the emperor, in 1771, and her descendant is at present duke of Modena. Jf it be asked why this duchy did ultimately go to heirs- female, in the persons of the younger Mary Beatrice of Este and her Austrian descendants, who now hold it, it maybe answered, that the Modenese heirs-maZe having failed in duke Hercules Renaud, her father, the duchy reverted to and was consolidated in the em- pire, so that the emperor could give it to whom he chose, and most naturally — by his influence, and from political reasons too — to Mary Beatrice who married his relative. Her descendants, now, owing to the complete failure of the Stuart-Modene&e line in the erson of the cardinal of Y ork, are the nearest eirs-female, or of line, of the Estes, dukes of Modena. By the marriage, likewise, of Francois IV., son of Mary Beatrice the younger, with Victorie Josephine of Sardinia, the Sardinian and Stuart oldest co-heir anti representative, their descendants singularly conjoin. 156 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [i^94 clerick duke of Bruns wick-Hanover. Mary Beatrice considered that, although she and her son were barred from the succession of the duchy, she had a claim as the natural heir, to all the personal property of her childless brother, and she employed the earl of Perth to represent her case to the pope. Unfortunate in everything, she gained nothing by the con- test except the ill-will of her uncle, and a coolness ensued between those relatives, who were once so fondly united by the ties of natural affec- tion. Duke Kinaldo joined the Germanic league, which, being abso- lutely opposed to the restoration of the male line of the royal Stuarts to the throne of Great Britain, of course increased the estrangement ; yet when Modena, several years afterwards, was occupied by the French army, and subjected to great misery in consequence, Mary Beatrice, notwithstanding the injurious conduct of the duke, her uncle, acted as the friond of his unfortunate subjects, by using her personal interces- sions with the king of France and his ministers to obtain some amelioration for their sufferings. Louis XIY. was, however, too much exasperated to interfere with the proceedings of his general, the due de Venddme, to whose discretion everything regarding Modena vras com- mitted by the war minister. Mary Beatrice then addressed the follow- ing earnest letter of supplication to that chief, by whom she was much esteemed : — “ My Cousin, “ I am so persuaded of your friendship for me, and of the inclination you have to please every one when in your power, that I cannot refrain from writing a word to you in favour of the poor distressed country where I was born, and where you are at present, as the head of the king’s armies. The governor of Modena, or those who govern for him in his absence, have sent a man here, to make known to the ministers of the king the sad state in .which that unfortunate city, and all the country round it, are. I have not been able to obtain so much as a hearing for him ; but they reply to me, ‘ that no one here can inter- fere in that business, and that the king ought to leave the care of it to his generals, who with the intendants must decide about those places.’ Consequently, this man has made a useless journey, and it is therefore that I address myself to you, to implore you with all the earnestness in my power, that you would be very favourable to these poor people, without, in the slightest degree, compromising the king’s interests, which are not less near to my heart than my own, and preferred by me to every other on earth. M. I’lntendant Boucha assures me, and will render the same testimony to you, of the good-will of those poor people to the French, to whom they are ready to give everything they have ; but they cannot give more than they have, and this is what is demanded of them. In fine, my cousin, I resign this business into your just and benevolent hands, being persuaded that you will do your best to save 1695 .] Pecuniary distress at St, Germains. 157 this unfortunate country, if it can be done without prejudice to the service of the king, for I repeat, that I neither ask, nor even wish it at that price. I pray you to be assured, that I have for you all the esteem and friendship that you deserve from “ Your affectionate cousin, “ Maria, K.”^ The pecuniary distress of the court of St. Germains began to be very great in the year 1694. The abbe Renaudot, a person entirely in the confidence of the cabinet of the unfortunate James, writes to one of the French ministers, December 17, that the queen of England proposed to sell all her jewels, that she might raise the sum necessary for some project, to which he alludes, connected with the affairs of her royal husband. “ I believe, monseigneur,” writes he, “ that I ought to relate to you this circumstance, as it seems to me that no one dare speak of the utter destitution which pervades the court of St. Germains. It is not their least embarrassment, that they have no longer the means of sending to England to those who have the wish to render them service.” Many persons, both French and English, resorted to the court of St. Germains, to be touched by king James for “ the king’s evil.” Angry comments are made by several contemporary French writers on his presuming to exercise that function, fancying that he attempted the healing art as one of the attributes pertaining to his empty title of king of France, and that it was a usurped faculty, formerly inherent in their own royal saint, Louis IX. The representative of the elder line of that monarch James undoubtedly was, but the imaginary power of curing the king’s evil by prayer and touch, was originally exercised by Edward the Confessor, as early as the eleventh century, in England, and afterwards by the sovereigns who, in consequence of their descent from Margaret Atheling, claimed the ancient royal blood. Though James and his consort were now refugees in France, and dependent on the charity of the reigning sovereign of that realm for food and shelter, they continued to style themselves king and queen, by the grace of God, of Great Britain, Ireland, and France. James frequently received hints as to the propriety of dropping the latter title ; but he would as soon have resigned that of England, which was now almost as shadowy a dis- tinction. Mary Beatrice writes to her friend the abbess of Chaillot, January 4, to thank her and her sisterhood for their good wishes for the new year, 1695, and to offer those of herself, her husband, and children, in return. In the postscript of this letter she notices the death of the duke of Luxembourg, as a great loss to Louis XIV., “and, in consequence, to ourselves also,” she adds. She appears a little uneasy at not having * Printed in Delort's Journeys in the Environs of Paris. 158 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1G94. seen madame de Maintenon since the day when she had received what she considered a slight from her. “ It is true,” continues her majesty, as if willing to impute both this and the omission of an invitation to an annual Christmas fgte at the court of France to accidental causes, “ that the frost and ice are so hard that it is difficult to approach us here, and there is some trouble in descending from this place. I believe that this is. the reason that the king has not sent for us to come to-morrow, as in other years.” ^ The news of the death of James’s eldest daughter, queen Mary II., reached St. Germains, January 15, and revived the drooping hopes of the anxious exiles there. James, however, felt much grief that she had not expressed a penitential feeling for her unfilial conduct towards him- self. It was expected that an immediate rupture would take place between William and Anne, on account of his retaining the crown, to which she stood in a nearer degree of relationship ; but Anne was too cunning to raise disputes on the subject of legitimacy while she had a father and a brother living. Her claims, as well as those of William, rested on the will of the people, and any attempt to invalidate his title would naturally end in the annihilation of her own. She played a winning game by submitting to a delay, which the debilitated constitu- tion of the Dutch king assured her would be but of temporary duration ; and she openly strengthened their mutual interests by a reconciliation with him, while she continued in a secret correspondence with her betrayed father .2 It was, perhaps, through her artful representations, that James neglected to take advantage of the favourable crisis produced by Mary’s death. He was vehemently urged at that time by his par- tisans to make a descent in England, and assured that even the support of ten thousand men would be sufficient to replace him on the throne. The French cabinet could not be induced to assist James, and he was fretted by the proceedings of his daughter by Arabella Churchill, who, having been left a widow by the early death of her husband, lord Walde- grave, married lord Wilmot privately, but not soon enough to save her reputation. The queen forbade her her presence, and James ordered her to retire to a convent in Paris till after her confinement, as great scandal was caused by her appearance. Acting, however, by the advice of her mother, with whom she had always been in correspondence, she fled to England, and made her court there by revealing all she knew of the plans of the unfortunate king, her father.® King James had not a more bitter enemy than his former mistress, Arabella Churchill, now the wife of colonel Godfrey. The duke of Berwick, about the same time, took the liberty of marrying one of the fair widows of St. Ge]- mains, against the wish of his royal father and the queen, who were 1 Autograph letter of the queen of James 2 Macpherson’s Stuart Papers. Life of II. in the archives of France. James II. ^ 2bid 159 1695 .] Booh dedicated to exiled queen, with difficulty induced to sanction the alliance. The lady was the daughter of viscount Clare, and widow of lord Leven. The displeasure against Berwick was short-lived : Mary Beatrice very soon appointed his new duchess as one of the ladies of her bedchamber ; she was much attached to her. It is mentioned by Dangeau, that the king of France gave the duke and duchess of Berwick apartments at Versailles, because he knew it would be agreeable to the queen of England. It is a curious circumstance that a book entitled the Life of Lady Warner,^ published in England this year, was fearlessly dedicated to Mary Beatrice, not by name, but significantly inscribed “ To the Qiteen.” Headers in general who are not very minute in their chrono- logical observations, might fancy that this was intended as a compli- ment to Mary II. ; but independently of the fact that the queen-regnant, Mary, was no longer in existence, the following extract from the epistle dedicatory will prove that it was no time-serving tribute to a successful rival, but a generous offering of unbought affection to the unfortunate consort of the exiled sovereign James II. “A queen, to be truly great, is always the same, whether fortune smiles or frowns upon her ; neither elevated in prosperity nor dejected in adversity, but showing the greatness of her soul in despising all things beneath it. This golden mean, this equal temper, the Christian world has always admired in your majesty, but never more than in this present conjuncture For what can speak so efficaciously as your example of the instability of all human felicity ? For, as your present state offers forcible motives towards the disparaging of all worldly greatness so the consideration of your royal patience and unshaken constancy, can- not but comfort the most afflicted. ’Twas prudence in not wrestling with the merciless waves and furious tumults of an ungrateful people, which has saved us the best of kings, the best of queens, and the most hopeful of princes. Me thinks,” observes our author, in conclusion, “ I hear the guardian-angel of our island whispering in our sovereign’s ear, as heretofore the angel guardian of Israel did in the ear of St. Joseph — * Kise, and take the child and his mother, and return into your country for they are dead who sought the life of the child.’ ” While the partisans of the exiled royal family were in a state of feverish anxiety, awaiting some movement or important decision on the part of James, both he and Mary Beatrice appeared to exhibit a strange indifference to the chances of the game. Caryl, the secretary of state at St. Germains, in a letter to the earl of Perth, dated July 4, 1695, after a discussion of state affairs, says, “The king and queen are both absent from St. Germains, but will return this night, having spent four or five days severally in a ramble of devotion, the king at La Trappe, and the i Printed by Thomas Hailes, London, 1696. 160 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1695. queen at Chaillot. The prince and princess are in perfect health, and grow up to the wonder of every body.” In the month of August, Louis XIV. gave a stag-hunt in the forest of Marli, expressly for the amuse- ment of Mary Beatrice, whom he was anxious to divert from the ascetic habits which, like her consort, she was too much disposed to practise. In October, Louis invited her and James to spend several days with his court at Fontainebleau. The formal round of amusements in which the exiled king and queen were compelled to join with absent and sor- rowful hearts, occupied without interesting, Mary Beatrice, In a letter to her friend, madame Angelique Priolo, she says : — “ These six days past have I sought for a moment to write to you, my dear mother, but without being able to find one. Yesterday evening I thought myself sure of the opportunity of doing it before supper, but monsieur de Ponchartrain [a person not to be neglected, certainly, as he was one of the cabinet ministers of Louis XIV.] entered my chamber just as I would have finished my letter to our mother, and prevented me. I strive to do my duty here towards God and man, but, alas ! I fail greatly in both, for in this place there is so much dissipation. Yet it is certain, also, that I am never so much persuaded of the little- nesses and vanities of this world, as when I am in the midst of its grandeur and its great appearances. I shall complete my thirty-seventh year to-morrow. Pray to God, my dear mother, that I may not spend another without serving and loving him with all my heart.’* That minute 'court chronicler, Dangeau, gives these particulars of a visit paid by Mary Beatrice and her lord to the French court at Ver- sailles, November the 9th “ The king and queen of England came here at three o’clock. The king [Louis XIV.] walked with them to his new fountains and his cascade. When they returned to madame Maintenon, the queen sat down to cards. Louis always delighted to make her play, but she generally quitted her cards soon after, under the excuse of going to prayers. When the supper was announced, the king took both her and the king her husband, and placed them at his own table. The dauphin had another table. The queen was only attended by four ladies, the duchess of Berwick, the duchess of Tyrconnel, and the ladies Almonde and Bulkeley.” Lady Tyrconnel V7as a great favourite of the queen : she was not altogether so trustworthy as her husband ; her chief error was not in intention, but a habit of scribbling news inces- santly to her treacherous sister, lady Marlborough. The arrival of Mr. Powell at St. Germains, in 1696, charged with urgent letters and messages from a strong party of the open adherents and secret correspondents of king James in London, entreating him to make a descent in England without delay, rekindled a fever of hope in 1 Dangeau’s Memoirs. ' i 69 ^).J Projected landing of king James in England, IGl the hearts of the exiled king and queen. The representations made to them of the unpopularity of William, the miseries caused by excessive taxation, a debased currency, and the decay of commerce and trade, induced them to believe that the people were eager to welcome their old master, not only as their legitimate sovereign, but as their deliverer from the miseries of a foreign yoke.^ Louis XIV. entered into measures for assisting James in this new enterprise with apparent heartiness. Berwick, whose military talents and chivalric character had won for him ill France the surname of the British Dunois, was to take the com- mand of the Jacobite insurgents. 12,000 men, whom they had required to assist them, were already on their march to Calais, and all things promised fair. On the 28th of February, James bade adieu to his wife and children, in the confident belief that their next meeting would be at Whitehall. James had been assured by his Mends in England, that if he would adventure a descent, he would regain his crown without a contest. Unfortunately, Powell, the secret agent who brought this earnest invitation to his old master, had not explained the intentions of the Jacobite association with sufficient perspicuity. In the first conver- sation he had with his majesty, in the presence of the queen, he was so eager for something to be attempted, and talked with so much ardour, that both James and Mary Beatrice imagined that the rising would take place directly it was known that the king was ready to embark. But, in reality, they expected him to land first with the 12,000 men, which was to be the signal for a general revolt from William. The mistake was fatal to the project. Louis was willing to lend his troops and transports to assist an insurrection, but his ministers persuaded him that it would be useless to risk them on the chance of exciting one. The fleet and troops were in readiness at Calais when James arrived there, but were not permitted to stir from thence till certain news of a rising in England should be received.^ The design of Sir George Barclay, and a party of desperate persons attached to the Jacobite party, to precipitate matters by the wild project of a personal attack on king William in the midst of his guards, did the utmost mischief to James’s cause, though he had always forbidden any attempt on the life of his rival, except in the battle-field. Meantime, the fleet of French transports, that should have convoyed James and his auxiliaries to the shores of England, were shattered by a violent storm, which wrecked many of them on their own coast.^ In short, in this, as in every other enterprise for the purpose of replacing the exiled line of Stuart on the throne of Great Britain, winds, waves, and unforeseen contingencies appeared to be arrayed in opposition, as if an immutable decree of Heaven forbade it. James retired to Boulogne * Stuart Papers, in Macpherson. 2 Journal of James II. Life, Macpherson. 3 Macpherson. Dairy mple. von. V. M 162 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1696. on the 23 rd ot March, with the intention of remaining there till some- thing decisive should take place. The state of his faithful consort's mind, meanwhile, will be best explained in one of her confidential letters to her friend, Angelique Priolo, to whom, as usual, she applies for sym- pathy and spiritual consolation in her trouble, “If you could imagine, my dear mother,” she says, “ to what a degree I have been overpowered with grief and business since I quitted you, your kind heart would have compassion on mine, which is more broken and discouraged than it has ever been, although for the last few days I appear to begin to recover a little more fortitude, or rather to submit with less pain to the good pleasure of God, who does all that pleases him in heaven and earth, and whom no one can resist ; but if we had the power, I do not believe that either you or I, far less my good king, would wish to do it. No, no, my dear mother ; God is a master absolute and infinitely wise, and all that he does is good. Let him, then, be praised for ever by you and by me, at all times and in all places.” After lamenting that her heart does not sufficiently accord with the language of her pen in these sentiments, and entreating her friend to pray for her, that she may become more perfect in the pious duty of resignation, she goes on to say, “ The king is still at Calais, or perhaps now at Boulogne ; as long as he remains there, he must have some hope. I will tell you more about it when I see you.” ^ Her majesty concludes with these words : “ Offer many regards on my part to our dear mother, to whom I cannot write, for I have written all this morning to the king, and I can do no more ; but my desire to write to you impels me to make this effort.” All the business at the court of St. Germains was directed by Mary Beatrice at this anxious period, which involved constant correspondence and meetings between her and the French ministers.^ Early in April she had a long interview with Louis XIV. at Marli, in the vain endea- vour of prevailing upon him to allow his troops to accompany king James to England. Louis was inflexible on this point, and she had the mortification of communicating the ill success of her negotiation to her husband. Calais was, meantime, bombarded by the English fleet under Russell, who stood so far committed by the confessions of some of the confederates in the late plot, that he was compelled to perform the duty of the post he held, without regard to the interests of his late master. James was anxious still to linger on the coast ; but the French cabinet having destined the troops for service elsewhere, Louis signified his wish that his royal kinsman should return to St. Germains.® Mary Beatrice once more sought, by her personal influence with Louis, to avert mea- sures so entirely ruinous to their cause, but her solicitations were fruit- less. James returned to St. Germains in a desponding state of mind, 1 Autograph letter of the queen of James II., in the archives of France. 2 Letters of the earl of Middleton, in Macpherson. 3 Journal of James. Stuart Papers. 1696 .] Crown of Poland refused by James II. 163 with the mortifying conviction that no effectual assistance would ever be derived from the selfish policy of the French cabinet.^ The devoted love and soothing tenderness of his queen mitigated the pain he felt at the bitter disappointment of his hopes, and he resigned himself with uncomplaining patience to the will of God. The most poignant distress was felt by Mary Beatrice at the executions which took place in conse- quence of the denunciation of their unfortunate adherents. In one of her letters to her Chaillot correspondent, she says, “ There have been three more men hanged in England, making eight in all, and two more are under sentence. Nothing can be sadder than the news we hear from that country, though we hear but little, and that very rarely.” It was at this time that the crown of Poland courted the acceptance of James IL, but he firmly declined it. “ Ambition,” he said, “ bad no place in his heart. He considered that th-e covenant which bound him to his subjects was indissoluble, and that he could not accept the allegiance of another nation, without violating his duties to his own. England had rejected him, but she was still too dear to him to be resigned. He would hold himself, till death, free to return to his own realm, if his people chose to unite in recalling him.” ^ Mary Beatrice applauded his decision, though urged by Louis XIV. to persuade her lord to avail himself of so honourable a retreat from the hopeless contest for the recovery of his dominions. The appointment of the duke of Perth to the important office of governor to the young prince, her son, then about eight years old, is thus announced by the royal mother to her friend, madame Priolo : — “ July 23. “ The king has named, this morning, milord Perth governor of my son, and we are going to put him into his hands. This is a great matter achieved for me, and I hope that God will bless the choice we have made, after having prayed for more than a year that God would inspire us to do it well. Tell this to our dear mother from me, for I have not time to write to her. Her prayers, with yours and those of our dear sisters, have had a great part in this election, which I believe will be agreeable to God, for he is a holy man, and of distinguished merit as well as of high rank. I am content to have my son in his hands, not knowing any one better. But I have placed him, above all, and in the first place, in the hands of God, who in his mercy will have care of him, and give us grace to bring him up in his fear and in his love.” ^ In the same letter her majesty says : — “We are all in good health here. We had yesterday a visit from ‘ Journal of James, Stuart Papers. 2 journal of James II. Life. Macpherson. 3 Inedited letters of Mary Beatrice, in the Chaillot collection. 164 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1696. the king [of France,] and the day before from madame de Maintenon. We go to-morrow to St. Cloud, for the ceremonial of the baptism of mademoiselle de Chartres.” Mary Beatrice was godmother to the infant. The ceremonial, which was very splendid, took place at St. Cloud, in the presence of king James and all the foreign ambassadors, as well as the princes and princesses of the blood. After they had promenaded for some time in the apartments, the king gave his hand to the queen of England and led her to the chapel, where they both held the little princess at the font} Although, in the general acceptation of the word, a great friendship might be said to subsist between Mary Beatrice and madame de Main- tenon, there were times when, like most persons who have been raised by fortune immeasurably above their natural level, the widow of Scarron took the opportunity of making the consort of James II. feel how much more there is in the power of royalty than the name. The fallen queen complains, in one of her letters, of the want of sympathy exhibited by this lady on a subject which seems to have given her great pain. “ You will be surprised,” she says to her friend Angelique Priolo, “ and per- haps troubled, at what I am now going to tell you in regard to that which cost me so much to tell that person to whom I opened my heart thereupon, she not having thought proper so much as to open her mouth about it the other day, though I was a good half-hour alone with her. I declare to you that I am astonished at it, and humiliated. However, I do not believe that I am quite humble enough to speak to her about it a second time, whatever inconvenience I may suffer. There is no order come from Borne as yet regarding our poor ; on the contrary, the pope has been very ill, and I believe he will die before they are given ; so that, yesterday, we came to the resolution to sell some jewels to pay the pensions for the month of September, and it follows that we must do the same for every month, unless we get other assistance, and of that I see no appearance. I conjure you, my dear mother, not to afQict yourself at all this. For myself, I assure you I am more astonished than grieved.” This observation refers to the slight the unfortunate queen had received from madame de Maintenon, to whom her application had apparently been made in behalf of the suffering adherents of king James. “ And in respect to our poor,” continues she, “ I never shall consider that I have done my duty till I have given all I have ; for it will not be till then that I can say, with truth, that nothing remains to me, and it is impossible for me to give more.” ^ Mary Beatrice was as good as her word ; by degrees she sacrificed every ornament she had in the world, except her bridal and her corona- 1 Dangeau. ? Autograph letter of the queen of James II., in the archives of France. 1G5 1697 .} charitohle impulses, tion rings, for the relief of the unfortunate British emigrants. The following interesting testimony is given of her conduct by an impartial witness, madame de Brinon, in a letter to her friend Sophia, electress of Hanover. “ The queen of England,” says this lady, is scarcely less than saintly ; and in truth it is a happiness to see her as she is, in the midst of her misfortunes. A lady of her court told me ‘ that she de- prived herself of everything, in order to support the poor English who had followed the king to St. Germains.’ She has been known to take out the diamond studs from her manchettes [cuffs], and send them to be sold. And she says, when she does these charitable actions, ‘ that it is well for her to despoil herself of such things to assist others.’ Is it possible that the confederate princes cannot open their eyes to the real merit and innocence of these oppressed and calumniated majesties ? Can they forget them when a general peace is made ? ^ I always speak to you, dear electress,” pursues the correspondent of the generous princess, on whom the British parliament had settled the succession of this realm, “ with the frankness due to our friendship. I tell you my thoughts as they arise in my heart, and it seems to me that your serene highness thinks like me.” Sophia of Hanover was of a very different spirit from the daughters of James II. She always had the magnanimity to ac- knowledge his good qualities and those of his faithful consort, and lamented their misfortunes. She accepted with gratitude the dis- tinction offered to her and her descendants by a free people ; but she scorned to avail herself of the base weapons of falsehood or treachery, or to derive her title from any other source than the choice of protestant England. In a preceding section of the same letter, madame Brinon speaks of James II., with whom she had recently been conversing. “ He suffers,” she says, “ not only like a saint, but with the dignity of a king. The loss of his kingdoms he believes will be well exchanged for heaven. He reminded me often that one of the first things he did, after his arrival in France, was to go to see madame de Maubisson.” ^ The exhausted state of the French finances compelled Louis XIV., who was no longer able to maintain himself against the powerful Anglo- Germanic, Spanish, and Papal league, to obtain proposals for a general peace. The deliberations of the congress which met for that purpose at Byswick, in the year 1697, were painfully interesting to James and his queen, since the recognition of William’s title of king of Great Britain was, of course, one of the leading articles. Louis, however, insisted on the payment of the dower settled by parliament on James’s queen, as * MS. Collection of George IV. Recueil de who had frfven up all her hopes of the Erig- Pieces, Brit. Museum, a. Madame de lish succession to become an abbess. She Brinon to the electress Sophia, B'eb. 22, 1697, ^ artist, “ and her portraits bear a dated from Maubisson. h'gh price," says Granger, “not as princess, ^ The elder sister of the electress Sophia, paintress." 166 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1697. an indispensable condition of the treaty. Mary Beatrice had done nothing to forfeit this provision ; her conduct as wife, queeu, and woman had been irreproachable. She had brought a portion of 400,000 crowns to her husband, whose private property had been seized by William. Her claims on the revenue of a queen-consort rested on the threefold basis of national faith, national justice, and national custom. When it was objected that James was no longer the sovereign of England, the plenipotentiaries of France proposed to treat her claims in the same manner as if her royal husband were actually, as well as politically, de- funct, and that she should receive the provision of a queen-dowager of Great Britain. So completely was the spirit of the laws and customs regarding the inviolability of the rights of the queens of England in her favour, that we have the precedent of Edward lY. extorting from his prisoner, Margaret of Anjou, the widow of a prince whose title he did not acknowledge, a solemn renunciation of her dower as queen of Eng- land, before he could appropriate her settlement to his own use. No wonder, then, that the claims of Mary of Modena infinitely perplexed her gracious nephew’s cabinet. One of their understrappers. Sir Joseph Williamson, whose style is worthy of his era, thus discusses the ques- tion : — “And as to the late king Jameses queen^s jointure which the French stick hard upon to he made good, it is a point of that delicacy that we are not willing, hitherto, to entertain it as any matter of our present business. If she have by law a right, she he to enjoy it ; ^ if not, we are not here empowered to stipulate anything for her. And so we endea- vour to stave it off from being received as any part of what we are here to negotiate. However, it seems to be of use, if Mr. Secretary can do it without noise or observation, to get an account of all that matter, how it now stands, and what settlements were made by the marriage- articles.” These inquiries were not to be made for the purposes of justice towards the rightful claimant of the said jointure, but in order that a flaw might be picked in the settlement, as this righteous Daniel sub- joins : — “ A private knowledge of this, if we could get it in time, might be of good help to us to stave off the point, which, as we think, cannot so much as be openly treated on by any of us, without inconveniences that will follow.” Mary Beatrice caused the following statement, in vindication of her claims on the justice of her former subjects, to be laid before the pleni- potentiaries assembled in congress ; — ^ So in the original. The letter is published in Coxe’s Correspondence of the duke Ajf Shrewsbury, pp. 361, 362. Her dower. 167 16970 Memorial concerning the Appanage of the Queen of Great Britain.^ “ October, 1696. “ According to the most ancient laws and customs of England, which are still in force, queens have their full right and power in their own persons, their estates and revenues, independently of the kings their husbands, by virtue of which they have always had officers of their revenues, who depended entirely on them, and all their acts have been valid without the concurrence of the kings their husbands. “As the queen of England brought a very considerable sum as her portion at her marriage, the king her husband (on his accession to the crown) thought it was reasonable for him to make an establish- ment of fifty thousand pounds sterling of annual revenue on her, which was passed under the great seal of England, and afterwards con- firmed by acts of parliament, which have not been repealed to this day ; insomuch, that the queen has an incontestable right to all the arrears of this revenue which are due since she left England, as well as to those which shall be due hereafter. Her majesty only asks this simply and purely as a private debt, which is incontestably due to herself, and of which she only sets forth a state[ment], lest it should be unknown to those who have the power and the will to do her justice.” The courtesy and gentleness of the last clause of the poor queen’s plea deserved to be met with more candour and justice than are perceptible in Williamson’s despatch before quoted. While this matter was in debate, Louis XIY. treated James and Mary Beatrice with the most scrupulous personal attention. William required that they should be deprived of their shelter at St. Germains, and, indeed, driven from France altogether; but to this Louis would not consent. He invited them to assist at the nuptials of his grandson the duke of Burgundy with Adelaide of Savoy, which were solemnized at Fontainebleau, September the 7th. The bride was nearly related to Mary Beatrice on the father’s side, and her mother, being the daughter of Henrietta duchess of Orleans, was a niece of James II., whose connection with the royal family of France was consequently much strengthened by this alliance. The exiled king and queen were given the place of honour as the most distinguished of the guests at this marriage, and Mary Beatrice was seated between Louis XIY. and her husband at the nuptial banquet. When supper was over, the two kings withdrew, followed by all the gentlemen, and the queen honoured the bride by assisting at her couches, and presenting her robe de nuit. James attended, in like manner, on the bridegroom, whom he led into the 2 Macpherson’s Stuart Papers. Nairne’s Papers, vol. ii., No. 40. 168 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1697. bridal chamber. The queen, who had retired with her ladies while his royal highness got into bed, re-entered and bade him and the bride good-night, according to the ceremonious etiquette of the court of France.' It was observed that madame de Maintenon only appeared twice, and then staid scarcely half an hour ; for on this occasion of high and stately ceremony, her doubtful rank was not recognised, and she was forced to sit behind the seat of the queen of England, who was the leading lady at the court of France. The queen again visited Louis XIY, at the Trianon, with all her court, as. he gave a grand festival there on the 17th of September, and again was Maintenon forced to re- treat into her original insignificance.^ Unfortunately, the courier who brought the news that the peace of Kyswick, whereby Louis XIV. recognised William of Orange as king of Great Britain, was signed, arrived at Fontainebleau at the same time as the exiled king and queen. Louis XIY. had, with peculiar delicacy, told his minister Torcy, that whatever expresses arrived, or however urgent the news might be, the peace was not to be mentioned if he were in company with the king or queen of England, and he would not suffer the least sign of rejoicing to take place, or the musicians of his palace to play or sing any songs in celebration of the peace, till their majesties and their whole court had returned to St. Germains.® The affectionate sympathy and kindness of Louis did much to soothe the pain his political conduct had caused to his unhappy guests. They were too just to impute that to him as a fault which was the result of dire necessity, and they had the magnanimity to acknowledge his bene- fits, instead of reflecting on him for the present extinction of their hopes. “ We are, in the bottom of our hearts, satisfied with your great king.” writes Mary Beatrice to her friend madame Priolo. “ He was beside himself to see us arrive at Fontainebleau at the same time with the courier who brought the news of the peace, and he testifies much friend- ship, pity, and even sorrow, for us. He had no power to act otherwise in this matter. In other things there is no alteration. Our residence at St. Germains appears fixed, from what he has told us — I say that it appears, for in truth, after all that we see, how can we believe that any thing is sure in this world I have the promise of the king [Louis] that I shall be given my dower, and I have entreated him to be pleased to take upon himself the payments for me.” In other words, for him to become the medium through which the money was to be transmitted by William and received by the consort of James. “ For,” pursues she, her lofty spirit rising above the exigencies of her circumstances, “ I wdll demand nothing, nor receive aught from any other than from him, to whom I will owe entirely and solely the obligation.” Louis having 1 St. Simon, vol. ii. ^ 3 * Autograph letters of the queen of James II., in the archives of France. i 697 *] Dower appropriated fraudulently by William. 169 insisted on that article of the treaty as a sine qua non, William signed it without the slightest intention of ever fulfilling the obligation. The consort of his uncle might have spared herself the trouble of arranging any punctilios of ceremony as to the how, when, and where she was to receive her income from William ; he scrupled not to deceive the British nation at the same time that he defrauded his aunt, by charging the annual sum of 50,000^. to that account, and applying it to his own pur- poses. Mary Beatrice, after unburdening her mind of the subject that was uppermost in her thoughts, experienced a sudden misgiving that she was acting with some degree of rashness, for she says, “ I have been drawn on, without intending it, to enter into this matter, and not knowing what I may have said, I entreat you to burn my letter.” ^ Is it not sufficient comment on the imprudence of which this princess was habitually guilty, in writing long confidential letters on the most important subjects of her own and her unfortunate consort’s private affairs, and afterwards those of her son, to her spiritual friends at Chail- lot, to say that her request was not complied with ? Her letters afford sufficient evidence that the consort of Midas was not the only queen in the world who felt an irresistible necessity to whisper her lord’s secrets in a quarter where she flattered herself that they would be kept from the world. The holy sister had as little appearance of being a dangerous confidante as the marsh ditch in that memorable tale ; but without accusing her of bad intentions, it is more than probable that she was no more fit to be trusted with a secret than her royal friend. She went not abroad to reveal that rash confidence it is true, but it is equally certain that the convent of Chaillot was the resort of busy and intriguing ecclesiastics. William, and his ambassador the earl of Manchester, had several priests in their pay,^ and that such men would succeed in obtaining a sight of the exiled queen of England’s correspondence with her beloved friends at Chaillot, there can be little doubt, especially when letters, which ought never to have been written, were preserved, not- withstanding the royal writer’s earnest request to the contrary. It is a fact, no less strange than true, that by one of the secret articles of the peace of Ryswick, William III. agreed to adopt the son of his uncle, James II. and Mary Beatrice d’Este, as his successor to the British crown, provided James would acquiesce in that arrangement, and leave him in peaceful possession of the disputed realm for the term of his natural life.^ One of William’s eulogists. Dairy mple, calls his proffered adoption of his disinherited cousin “an intended piece of generosity towards the exiled family.” There can be no doubt but that he would have been glad, under any pretence, to get the young prince into his own hands ; by which means he would have held the son as a 1 Autograph letters of the queen of James II., In the archives of France. * Reports of the earl of Manchester. 3 Journal of James II. Treaty of Kyg-\ ick. 170 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1697. hostage against his own father, and at the same time kept Anne and her party in check as long as he lived, leaving them to fight the matter out after his death. The proposition contained in itself an acknowledgment of the falseness of the imputations William had attempted to throw on the birth of the son of James and Mary Beatrice. One of the- reasons alleged by William for coming over with a foreign army, was “to cause,” as he said, “ inquiry to be made by parliament into the birth of a supposed prince of Wales.” This inquiry he never made. “ He dared not,” says the duke of Berwick, “ enter into the question, well knowing that no prince ever came into the world in the presence of so many witnesses. I speak,” continues he, “ from full knowledge of the facts, for I was present ; and, notwithstanding my respect and my devotion to the king, I never could have lent a hand to so detestable an action as that of wishing to introduce a child to take the crown away from the rightful heirs ; and after the death of the king, it was not likely that I should have continued to support the interests of an impostor : neither honour nor conscience would have permitted me.” ^ If the exiled king and queen had possessed the slightest portion of political wisdom, they would have entered into a correspondence with William on the subject, for the sake of exposing his duplicity to the people of England, and the little respect he paid to the act of parliament which had settled the succession on the princess Anne and her children. When, however, the project was communicated to James, Mary Beatrice, who was present, before he could speak, exclaimed with the natural impetuosity of her sex and character, “ I would rather see my son, dear as he is to me, dead at my feet, than allow him to become a party to his royal father^s injuries.” ^ James said “ that he could bear the usurpation of the prince of Orange and the loss of his crown wdth Christian patience, but not that his son should be instrumental to his wrongs and thus the matter ended.® James has been accused of pride and obstinacy in this busi- ness, but, as he has himself observed, he had no security for the personal safety of his son, and he had had too many proofs of the treachery of William’s disposition to trust the prince in his keeping. King William was piqued at the asylum that was afforded to the deposed king and queen at St. Germains. They were too near England to please him. He had laboured at the peace of Eyswick to obtain their expulsion from France, or at least to distance them from the court. Louis was inflexible on that point. The duke of St. Albans, the son of Charles II. by Nell Gwynne, was sent to make a fresh demand when he presented the congratulations of William on the marriage of the duke of Burgundy, but it was negatived. St. Albans was followed by William’s favourite, Portland, attended by a numerous suite. At the first con- • Autobiography of the Duke of Berwick. 2 Nairne’s Collection of Stuart Paper MS. Recital of the death of Janaea II., and the visit of the queen to the convent of Chaillot. 206 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [ 1701 . heart within the convent of the Visitation of St. Marie de Chaillot, lest it should agitate the royal widow. The young king of England, too, had expressly recommended us, by milord Perth, to take every possible precaution to prevent the queen, his mother, from having the slightest idea of the time of its arrival ; but the sympathy of the queen defeated all our precautions. The late king had good reason to say to his august spouse ‘ that she was flesh of his flesh, and bone of his bone for when death had rendered his body insensible of the wound, the queen had felt all the pain in her own living frame ; and this was the more to be re- marked, since she knew nothing of what was then doing.” The good sister of Chaillot, being of a marvellous temperament, has made a miracle of a coincidence very easy to be accounted for by natural causes. The poor queen had scarcely closed her eyes in sleep for upwards of a fort- night, during which time she was in a state of the most distressing excitement ; while the occasional deceptive amendments in the king’s symptoms, by kindling the “ hope that keeps alive despair,” had added the tortures of suspense to her other sufferings, and kept her nerves on a perpetual stretch. Every one knows the distressing sensations that attend the first perturbed slumbers into which exhausted nature sinks, after either nurse or patient has passed many nights of continuous vigils. Early on the Sunday morning the queen asked many questions, which the nuns considered a confirmation of the presentiment she had had of the arrival of the heart of her departed lord. She said she knew that it was near her ; and at last they acknowledged that it was already enshrined in their tribune, near that of the queen, his mother. She spoke much, and eloquently, that day of James. She said “ that he had felt his humiliation, and above all, the injustice he had experienced, very keenly ; but that his love of God had changed all his calamities into blessings. She compared him to St. Stephen, who saw the heavens opened while they were stoning him.” While the queen was at Chaillot, they read to her some passages from the life of the reverend mother, Anne Marie d’Epernon, the superior of the great Carmelite convent at Paris, who had recently departed this life with a great reputation for sanctity. Her majesty had been w^ell acquainted with this religieuse, whom both the late king and herself had been accustomed to visit, and held in great esteem. Mary Beatrice appeared much interested in the records of her departed friend, who, before she took the habit, had refused the hand of the king of Poland, and preferred a life of religious retire- ment to being a queen. “ Ah I” exclaimed the royal widow, “ she was right ; no one can doubt the wisdom of the choice, when we are at liberty to make it.” Her majesty told the community that she had her- self passionately desired to take the veil, and that it was only in com- pliance with her mother’s commands that she had consented to marry lyoi.] Assumes Tier widow's weeds. 207 her late lord. “ If it were not for the sake of my children,” said she, “ I would now wish to finish my days at Chaillot.” Other duties awaited her. The king of France had commanded the exempt of the guard of honour, by whom her majesty was escorted to Chaillot, and who remained on duty during her stay, not to admit any person whatsoever to intrude upon her grief during her retirement there, not even the princesses of the blood, though Adelaide duchess of Burgundy was king James’s gi-eat niece. Among the rest cardinal Noailles was refused admittance, at which the queen expressed regret, having a wish to see him. When his eminence was informed of this, he returned, and they had a long con- ference. On the third day after her arrival, being Monday, Mary Beatrice assumed the habit of a widow ; ‘‘ and while they were thus arraying her,” continues our good nun, “her majesty, observing that 1 was trying to look through her eyes into her soul, to see what effect this dismal dress had on her mind, assured me ‘ that those lugubrious trappings gave her no pain, because they were in unison with her own feelings, and that it would have been very distressing to herself to have dressed otherwise, or, indeed, ever to change that garb. For the rest of my life,’ said her majesty, ‘ I shall never wear anything but black. I have long ago re- nounced all vanities, and worn nothing, in the way of dress, but what was absolutely necessary ; and God knows that I have not put on deco- rations except in cases where I was compelled to do so, or in my early youth.’ ” ^ When the melancholy toilet of Mary Beatrice was fully com- pleted, and she was dressed for the first time in widow’s weeds, she seated herself in a fauteuil, and all the ladies in the convent were permitted to enter, to offer her their homage and condolences. But every one was in tears, and not a word was spoken ; for the queen sat silent and motion- less as a statue, with her eyes fixed on vacancy, apparently too much absorbed in her own unspeakable grief to be conscious of anything. “ I had the boldness,” says our simple nun, “ to place the crucifix where her majesty’s regards were absently directed, and soon all her attention was centered on that model of patience in suffering. After a quarter of an hour, I approached to give her an account of a commission with which she had charged me. She asked what hour it was ? I told her that it was half-past four o’clock, and her carriages were come ; that the com- munity were waiting in the gallery, and a chair and porters were in at- tendance to convey her to her coach.” She rose and said, “ I have a visit to make before I go.” Then bursting into a passion of tears, she cried, “ I will go and pay my duty to the heart of my good king. It is here ; I feel that it is, and nothing shall stop me from going to it. It is a relic that I have given you, and I must be allowed to venerate it.”* The more enlightened tastes of the present age incline us to condemn, 1 ChaiUot MS. 2 Ibid. 208 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1701. as childish and superstitious, this fond weakness of an impassioned lover, in thus clinging to a portion of the earthly tabernacle of the beloved after his spirit had returned to God who gave it ; hut it was a characteristic trait, both of the times, the religion, and the enthusiastic temperament of the countrywoman of Petrarch, of Ariosto and Tasso. Every one, in the church of St. Marie de Chaillot at any rate, sympathized with her, and felt the tragic excitement of the scene, when the disconsolate widow of James II. in her sable weeds, covered with her large black veil, and preceded by the nuns singing the De Profundis, approached the tribune where the heart of her beloved consort was enshrined in a gold and ver- meil vase. “ She bowed her head, clasped her hands together, knelt, and kissed the urn across the black crape that covered it ; and after a silent prayer, rose, and having asperged it with the holy water without a tear or sigh, turned about in silence to retire, apparently with great firmness, but before she had made four steps from the spot, she fell into a fainting fit, which caused us,” continues the recording nun, “ some fears for her life. When, at last, she recovered, she was, by the order of her confessor, placed in a chair, and so carried to her coach. It was impossible for her to stay longer at Chaillot, because the young prince and princess, her children, had need of her presence at St. Germains We have seen all this with our own eyes,” observes the nun in conclusion, “ and the queen herself confirms what we have said here, as our mother and all the community judged it proper that an exact and faithful narrative of the whole should be made, to the end that it might be kept as a perpetual memorial in our archives, and for those who may come after us.” Mary Beatrice returned to her desolate palace at St. Germains on Monday, September 19 . In the evening, the prince and princess rejoined her from Passy, where they had passed the mournful interim in deep retirement : at the country-house of the due de Lauzun a tender reunion took place between the sorrowful family and their faithful adherents. The next day, Louis XIY. came in state to pay his visits of condolence to. the royal mother and son. The widowed queen received him in her darkened chamber hung with black, lying on her bed of mourning, ac- cording to the custom of the French queens. Louis said everything he could to mitigate her affliction, and comforted her with the assurances of his protection to her and her son. William’s ambassador, who kept a jealous eye on all the proceedings of the French sovereign with regard to the widow of James II. and her son, gives the following notices in his reports to his own court : “ I did not go to Versailles yesterday. I was satisfied that the whole discourse would be of their new roi d* Anyleterre^ and of the king’s going to make him the first visit at St. Germains, which he did that day. He staid but little with him, giving him the title of ‘ majesty.’ He was with the queen a considerable time. The rest of 209 1701 .J King of France recognises her son's title, the court made their compliments the same day. — September 23. The French king made the P. [prince] the first visit. Next day the P. [prince] returned the visit at Versailles. All the ceremonies passed to the entire satisfaction of those at St. Germains, and in the same manner as was observed with the late king. —September 24. I can perceive from M. de Torcy, that the French king was brought to do this at the solicita- tion of the queen at St. Germains. It is certain that M. de Torcy, as well as the rest of the ministers, was against it, and only the dauphin and madame de Maintenon, whom the queen had prevailed with, carried this point, which I am satisfied they may have reason to repent of. — September 26. The will of the late king James is opened, but not yet published, but I hear it is to be printed. What I have learned of it is, that the queen is made regent ; the French king is desired to take care of the education of the P. [prince] ; that in case he be restored, the queen is to be repaid all that she has laid out of her own ; that all other debts which they have contracted since they left England, and what can be made out, shall be paid ; that the new king shall not take any revenge against his father’s enemies, nor his own ; that he shall not use any force in matters of religion, or in relation to the estates of any persons what- soever. He recommends to him all those that have followed him. I am told that lord Perth is declared a duke, and Caryl a lord.” ^ The information touching the will of king James was true, as far as regards the power given to Mary Beatrice ; but this document was dated as far back as November 17, 1688, having been made by him after the landing of the prince of Orange, when he was on the eve of leaving Lon- don to join the army at Salisbury. By that document he bequeaths his soul to God, in the confident assurance of eternal salvation, through the merits and intercession of our blessed Saviour Jesus Christ, without a word of the Virgin Mary, or any other saint. “ Our body,” he says, “ we commit to the earth, and it is our will that the same be privately interred in our royal chapel, called Henry VII’s chapel.” After men- tioning the settlements which he had made — first, as duke of York, out of his personal property, and afterwards when king, as a provision lor his entirely beloved consort, queen Mary — ^he constitutes his dear son, James prince of Wales, his sole heir, both of his three kingdoms and Ids personal property, with the exception of certain jewels, plate, household furniture, equipages, and horses, which are left to the royal widow. “ And we will and appoint that our said dearest consort,” continues his majesty, “ have the sole governance, tuition, and guardianship of our said dear son, till he shall have fully completed the fourteenth year of his age.” It is a curious fact that James, after thus constituting Mary Beatrice as the guardian of their son and executrix of his last will and testament, 1 (dole’s State Papers. VOL. V. P 210 Mary Beatrice of Modena» appoints a council to assist her in this high and responsible charge, com- posed of the persons in whom he, at that date, reposed the most especial trust and confidence ; and at the head of this list stood, uncancelled, the name of his son-in-law, prince George of Denmark 1 The duke of New- castle, the earl of Nottingham, the duke of Queensbury, Cromwell’s son- in-law, viscount Fauconberg, and lord Godolphin are there, united with the names of some of the most devoted of James’s friends, who, with their families, followed him into exile — the true-hearted earl of Lindsay, the marquis of Powis, the earls of Perth and Middleton, and Sir Thomas Strickland, besides several of those who played a doubtful part in the struggle, and others, both friend and foe, who had gone to their great account before the weary spirit of the last of the Stuart kings was released from its earthly troubles. In virtue of this will, the only one ever made by James II., Mary Beatrice was recognised by the court and council of her deceased lord at St. Germains as the acting guardian of the prince their son, and took upon herself the title of queen-regent of Great Britain. She was treated by Louis XIV. and his ministers with the same state and ceremony as if she had been invested with this office in the only legal way — by the parliament of this realm. The first care of the widowed queen was to obey the death-bed injunctions of her deceased consort, by writing to his daughter, the prin- cess Anne of Denmark, to communicate his last paternal message and admonition. It was a painful duty to Mary Beatrice, perhaps the most painful to her high spirit and sensitive feelings that had ever been im- posed upon her, to smother her indignant sense of the filial crimes that had been committed by Anne, the slanders she had assisted in dissemL nating against herself, and, above all, the base aspersions that princess had endeavoured to cast on the birth of the prince her brother, for the pur- pose of supplanting him in the succession to the throne of the Britannic empire. Mary Beatrice had too little of the politician, too much of the sensitive feelings of the female heart in her character, to make deceitful professions of affection to the unnatural daughter of her heart- broken husband. Her letter is temperate, but cold and dignified ; and though she does not condescend to the language of reproachful accusa- tion, it clearly implies the fact that she regarded Anne in the light of a criminal, who, without effective repentance, and the fruits of penitence — sincere efforts to repair her offences against her earthly parent, must stand condemned in the sight of her heavenly Father. To THE Princess Anne of Denmark.^ “ I think myself indispensably obliged to defer no longer the acquaint- ing you with a message, which the best of men, as well as the best of 1 From the copy in Stanier Clarke’s Life of James II. ; printed from the Stuart MSS. ai George iV.’s possession. 211 1701.J Her letter to queen Anne. fathers, has left with me for you. Some few days before his death, he bid me find means to let you know that he forgave you from the bottom of his heart, and prayed God to do so too ; that he gave you his las;^ blessing, and prayed to God to convert your heart, and confirm you in the resolution of repairing to his son the wrongs done to himself ; to which I shall only add, that I join my prayers to his herein, VvUth all my heart, and that I shall make it my business to inspire into the young man who is left to my care the sentiments of his father, for better no man can have. “ Sept. 27, 1701.” If Mary Beatrice expected any good effects to be produced by the stern sincerity of such a letter, she knew little of the human heart, to which nothing is so displeasing, in its unregenerate state, as the prayers of another for its amendment. A few days after the date of this letter, Mary Beatrice completed her forty-third year. ' The anniversary of her birth had always been kept as a f^te by the exiled court at St. Germains, but this year, in consequence of the melancholy bereavement she had so recently sus- tained, it was observed by her in a different manner. She gives the fol- lowing account of herself, in her first letter to the superior of Chaillot on her return to St. Germains : it is dated October 6, just three weeks after the death of king James. ^ “ My health,” she says, is good, beyond what I ever could have hoped in the state in v/hich I find myself ; for I avow, frankly, that my heart and my soul are sad even unto death, and that every passing day, instead of diminishing, appears to augment my grief. I feel more and more the privation and the separation from him who was dearer to me than my own life, and who alone rendered that life sweet and supportable. I miss him, every day more and more, in a thousand ways. In my first grief, I felt something like a calm beneath ; but now, although, perhaps, it does not appear so much outwardly, I feel a deeper sorrow within me. Yesterday, the day of my birth, I made a day of retreat [spiritual retirement for self-recollection and religious exercises], but with so much pain, and weariness, and tedium, that, so far from finding it a solace, I was oppressed and crushed down with it, as I am also with the weight of business ; so much so, that in truth my condition is worthy of compassion. I hope the God of mercy will have pity on me, and come to my help ; but here I feel it not, nor is it per- mitted me to find comfort, either in earth or heaven. Never,” she says in conclusion, “ never had any one so great a want of prayers as I have. I entreat of God to hear those which you make to him for me, and that he will deign to pity and take care of me.” Mary Beatrice was now a widow without a dower, a regent without a 1 Tnedited letters of Mary Beatrice, widow of James II., king of England, in the archives of France. p 2 212 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1702. realm, and a mother, whose claims to that maternity which had deprived herself and her husband of a throne were treated by a strong party of her former subjects with derision. Although the subsequent birth of the princess Louisa had sufficiently verified that of her son, rendering, withal, the absurdity manifest of the supposition of the widowed queen upholding the claims of an alien to her blood to the prejudice of her own daughter, who might otherwise expect to be recalled to England as the next in the royal succession to the princess Anne of Denmark, there were, indeed, those — Burnet for instance — who talked of a second impo- sition in the person of the young Louisa ; but the striking likeness between the royal brother and sister sufficiently indicated that their parentage was the same. Mary Beatrice gives the following brief account of their health and her own, together with a touching allusion to her departed husband, in her letter to the abbess of Chaillot at the commencement of a sorrowful new year, dated, “ St. Germains, Jan. 7, 1702. “ My health is good, and that of the king my son, and my daughter, per- fect, God be thanked ! 1 have bad nights myself, but that does not pre- vent me from going on as usual every day. I have great want of courage and of consolation. God can grant me these when it pleases him. I hope that your prayers will obtain them for me, joined with those of that blessed spirit whose separation from mine is the cause of all my pain.” ^ The first step taken by Mary Beatrice in the capacity of guardian to the prince, her son, was to publish a manifesto in his name, setting forth his claims to the crown of Great Britain as the natural heir of the deceased king, his father. This manifesto produced no visible effects in favour of the young prince in England. In Scotland, the party that was secretly opposed to William’s government, and openly to his favourite project of the union of the two realms, perceived how powerful an instrument might be made of the youthful representative of the royal Stuarts, if they could bring him forward as a personal actor on the political arena. The duke of Hamilton and the confederate lords having organized their plans for a general rising, sent lord Belhaven on a secret mission to St. Germains, to communicate their design to the queen- mother, and to endeavour to prevail on her to intrust them with her son. From a very curious contemporary document in the lately discovered portfolio in the Bibliotheque du Roi,^ it appears that 1 Chaillot MSS. 2 MS. in the St. Germains collection. This \ecord is endorsed, “ Papers of my lord Bel- naven,” It is enclosed in the following brief note, addressed to the earl of Seafield ; “ My lord— The paper that I send you is the same of which 1 spoke to you yesterday. I am, my lord, &c., C. Hedges.'’ As Hedges was one of king William’s secretaries of state, and the earl of Seafield principal secretary of state for Scotland, there can be no doubt of the authenticity of this document, which must have been transmitted to Hedges by some traitor in the cabinet of Mary Beatrice, and afterwards intercepted on its way to the earl of Seafield, and brought back to St. Germains, whence it has finally found its way into the Biblioihgque du Eoi. 213 1 702 .] Secret mission of lord Belhavem lord Belhaven came to Paris on this errand, where he remained three months. He had several conferences with the earl of Middle- ton, to whom he was introduced by his brother-in-law, captain John Livingston. Lord Belhaven was naturally regarded, at first, with feelings of distrust by the exiled queen and her cabinet, having been one of the instruments employed by William in bringing about the revolu- tion of 1688. He succeeded, however, in removing the unpleasant im- pression created by his former political conduct, by professing the most determined hostility against the Dutch sovereign, who, instead of pay- ing the debt of gratitude with the rewards and honours to which he conceived, that his extraordinary services entitled him, had neglected and slighted him, and performed none of his pledges with regard to Scotland. “ I remember,” observes our authority,^ “ that my lord [Belhaven] said, ‘ that he had sent letters to the duke of Hamilton, and that he acted by his instructions, the duke having become the head of those who were faithful to the interests of their countiy ; that he had himself been hated and ill treated by king William, and that he had now an aversion to the cause of a prince who had so greatly deceived the nation ; that the yoke which bound Scotland to England — for he could not call it a union — had been the ruin of his country ; that he, for one, was for set- ting up the claims of the prince of Wales in so decided a manner, as to compel the reigning king to acknowledge him ; and that would keep him in check, and make him pay more attention to the interests of the ancient realm of his ancestors.’ ” On the 2nd of February, 1702, his lordship had a private audience of the queen in the palace of St. Germains, to whom he repeated all he had said to the earl of Middleton of the favourable intentions of his party in behalf of her son. He told her, that “ If the prince could be induced to embrace the Protestant religion, it would be easy to obtain his recall, even by the parliament, as the recognised successor of king William.” He represented to her how desirable this would be; “for,” said he, “ England is so superior in force to Scotland, both by sea and land, that unless he had a strong party in England, he would not, as king of Scotland, be able to conquer England. The prince of Wales,” con- tinued he, “ has not only a strong party in England, but a bond ol alliance in France to support him m his claims.” ^ Mary Beatrice was inexorable on the subject of religion. Even when lord Belhaven assured her, “ that if her son would declare himself a Protestant, the duke of Hamilton and his party would proclaim him king of Scotland without waiting either for the death of William or the consent of the English parliament,” her majesty, with uncomp -omising sincerity, replied, “ that she would never be the means of persuading her son to barter his hopes of neaven for a crown ; neither could she believe that any reliance could ^ St Germains MS. on lord Belhaven's Secret Mission ; Bibliotheque du Roi. * Ibid. 214 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1702, be placed by others on the promises of a prince who was willing to make such a sacrifice to his worldly interests.” Lord Belhaven, after expressing his extreme regret at her stiffness on this important pointy next proposed to her majesty, on the part of the duke of Hamilton and the confederate Scottish lords, “ that if the prince adhered to his own religion, he should at least make a compact not to suffer more than a limited number of Romish priests in his kingdom, and engage to make no attempt to alter the established religion in either realm.” This the queen freely promised for the prince her son ; and then his lordship engaged, in the name of his party, that they would do all in their power to oppose the English parliament in the act of settlement regard- ing the Hanoverian succession.^ It is interesting to be able to unveil some of the secret feelings that had agitated the heart of the royal mother at this epoch. In a letter to her friend the abbess of Chaillot, dated February 1st, she says, “ I am ashamed to tell you, that for several days past I have slept less, and wept more, than I have done for some time. I find myself utterly over- whelmed, without power to find consolation either in heaven or earth.” ^ She goes on to speak of the publication of some of king James’s letters, and of the funeral oration that had been made for him in the pope’s chapel at Rome, where her kinsman, cardinal Barberini, chanted the mass, and the pope himself sang the Libera. “ My health,” continues she, “ thanks to God, is wonderfully good, and I beg of him to give me grace to employ all his gifts for his sole service.” Lord Belhaven had several interviews with the queen, to whom he continued unavailingly to urge the desirableness of the prince conform- ing to the prevailing religion of the realm, over which she flattered herself he might one day reign. The queen declared, “ that her son, young as he was, would rather die than give up his religion ; but that neither he, nor the late king his father, or herself, entertained any designs to the prejudice of the church of England. All they desired was, toleration for those of their own way of thinking, which,” she said, with some emotion, “ she considered was only reasonable.” ^ His lord- ship then communicated the earnest desire of the duke of Hamilton and his party “ that she would send the prince to Scotland, in which case they were willing to raise his standard, and rally their followers. At preseQt, his name was all that was known of him ; but if he were once seen among them, he would be recognised as the representative of their ancient sovereigns, and the people would be ready to fight in his cause.” ^ The maternity of Mary Beatrice was of too absorbing a nature to allow her to entertain this proposition. “ Her son was a minor,” she said, 1 St. Germains MS., on lord Belhaven’s ^ MS. Bibliotheque du Roi. Secret Mission ; Bibliothbque du Roi. < state Papers in the Bibliotheque du Roi 2 Chaillot MSS. 1702.] Maternal weolzness, 215 “ and as his guardian, she stood responsible to the late king his father, and also to the people of England, who would, she doubted not, one day recall him to the throne of his forefathers ; but, in the interim, she would not consent to his incurring so great a peril on her own responsi- bility.” She had been persuaded, that it was the intention of the party who had placed the prince of Orange on the throne to assassinate her boy at the time she fled with him from England thirteen years before, and this idea returned so forcibly to her mind on the present occasion, that slie could not conceal her uneasiness when the proposition was made to her ; and thus an opportunity that seemed to promise much was lost, for she preferred the personal safety of her son to the advancement of his interests. Mary Beatrice gave much of her confidence at this period to lord Caryl, who had been her secretary when duchess of York, had followed her into exile, and sacrificed all his property in England for the sake of his principles. She had induced king James to advance him to the post of secretary of state, being well persuaded of his fidelity. He was a person of a very elegant mind, and had been the friend and earliest patron of Pope. It was to the suggestions of Caryl that Pope was indebted for the idea of the unique and graceful poem of the Eape of the Lock. He was also the friend and assistant of Dryden. His talents as a statesman were not equal to the difficulties of his position at the court of St. Germains, where he was crossed by the intrigues and jealousies of weak, violent, and wrong-headed rivals. The queen esteemed and trusted him, and that was sufficient to entail upon him the envy and ill-will of the rest of the cabinet, who ascribed all the miscarriages of the Jacobite cause to his influence. It is strange, that among persons who had sacrificed everything for their principles so much disunion should exist, especially in a court without an exchequer, where all service was performed con amore. Lord Middleton professed to be a Protestant, but in his hours of re- laxation declared that he did not believe in any religion. After the death of his royal master, he fell into disgrace with the queen. He regained her confidence in the following manner: He had been ill some time, or affected to be so. One morning, in great agitation, he demanded audi- ence of the queen at St. Germains, and when she granted it, he told her “ that by a miracle his health was perfectly restored ; for he had seen a vision of his lost master, king James, in the night, who told him he would recover ; but that he owed his health to his prayers,- and that he must become a Catholic.” Middleton concluded this scene by declaring his conversion.^ This was attacking the poor widow of James on the weak point of her character ; she burst into tears of joy, and received Middleton into her confidence. He abjured the Protestant faith, took * St. Simon, vol. vL 124, et seq. 216 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1702. the Catholic sacraments immediately, and soon after ruled all at St. Germains. At the time of king James’s death, Mary Beatrice was in arrears to the convent of Chaillot a large sum for the annual rent of the apart- ments occasionally occupied by herself, her ladies, and their attendants. ^Jhe money that she would fain have appropriated to the liquidation of this debt by instalments, was constantly wrung from her by the craving misery of the starving families of those devoted friends who had given up everything for the sake of their old master, king James ; and she knew that their necessities were more imperative than the claims of the compassionate nuns, who were willing to wait her convenience. In one of her letters she laments that it will be a month before she can see her friend again, and says: — In the mean time, I send my children to you. It is my daughter who will give you this letter : say something to her for her good, and give her some instruction. Ah ! how happy I should esteem myself if I could put her into the hands of a person who had all your good qualities. Beg of God to inspire me with what I ought to do for the benefit of this dear daughter,” ^ CHAPTER IX. It would not have been difficult for a mind so deeply impressed with the vanity of earthly greatness as that of Mary Beatrice, to have re- signed itself to the all-wise decrees of “ Him by whom kings do reign,” if the fact could have been made apparent to her, that the sceptre had passed from the royal house of Stuart for ever. But, in common with those who perilled their lives and fortunes in the cause of her son, she beheld it in a different light from that in which the calm moralist reviews the struggle, after time has unveiled all mysteries, and turned the dark page of a doubtful future into the records of the irrevocable past. The devoted partisans of legitimacy, by whom Mary Beatrice was surrounded at St. Germains, persuaded her that a peaceful restora- tion of their exiled prince was at hand ; they fancied they recognised the retributive justice of Heaven in the remarkable manner in which his rivals had been swept from the scene. The fact was no less strange than true, that in consequence of the premature death of the childless Mary, the utter bereavement of the princess Anne, and the inevitable failure of the Nassau -Stuart line with William III., the son of James II. had A Autograph letters of the queen of James II. ; Chaillot MSS. 1702.J Fuller s libels on the widowed queen, 217 become the presumptive heir of those on whom parliament had, in the year 1689, settled the regal succession. The events of a few months, of a week, a day — nay, the popular caprice of an hour might summon him to ascend the throne of his ancestors. Who can wonder if the heart of the widowed queen occasionally thrilled with maternal pride when she looked on her two fair scions, in the fresh-budding spring of life and promise, and thought of the sere and barren stems that intervened between them and a regal inheritance? The nearest Protestant to Anne in the line of succession, Sophia electress of Hanover, had, with a magnanimity rarely to be met with where a crown is in perspective, declared herself reluctant to benefit by the misfortunes of her royal kindred, generously expressing a desire that the nation would take into consideration the unhappy case of le pauvre prince de Galles,^' as she styled the son of James II. ; “ that he might rather be thought of than her family, since he had learned and sufiered so much by his father’s errors that h^ would certainly avoid them all, and make a good king of England.” ^ Sophia had, it is true, acceded to the fiattering wish of parliament that the Protestant succession should be settled on her and her family, but her scruples, and the avowed reluctance of her son, prince George, to quit his beloved Hanover to re- side in England, inspired Mary Beatrice with a sanguine hope that little contest was to be apprehended from that quarter. The sentiments ex- pressed by the electress regarding her youthful cousin were frequently heard in England at the commencement of the last century, not only from the lips of those with whom attachment to hereditary monarchy was almost an article of faith, but from many who dreaded the horrors of civil war. Sympathy for the calamities of royalty has always been a characteristic of the English, and there was a romantic interest attached to the situation of the widow and orphans of James II. which appealed so powerfully to the sensibilities of kind and generous hearts, that the Anglo-Dutch cabinet resorted to calumny and forgery for the purpose of counteracting the revulsion of popular feeling, which was far more to be dreaded than the intervention of France. Scarcely had James II. been dead a month, when the notorious William Fuller 2 publicly presented to the lords justices, the lord mayor, and several ministers of state a book, entitled: “A full demonstration that the pretended prince of Wales was the son of Mrs. Mary Gray, undeniably proved by original letters of the late queen and others, and by depositions of several persons of worth and honour, never before published ; and a particular account of the murther of Mrs. Mary Gray, at Paris. Humbly recommended to 1 Letter of the electress Sophia of Hanover 491, from the oripinal letter in the collodion to Mr. Stepney, envoy to the court of Bran- of lord Hardwicke, generally called “the elec- denburgh, quot^ in one of speaker Onslow’s treiB Sophia’s Jacobite letter.” marginal notes to Burnet’s History of his 2 Loudon Post ; October lY, 1701 Own Time, octavo edition, vol. iv. pp. 489- 218 Mai'y Beatrice of Modena, [1702. the consideration of both houses of Parliament. By William Fuller, gent.” ^ William Fuller had, for many years, earned a base living, by devoting both tongue and pen to the fabrication of falsehood for political purposes* He was a kindred spirit with Oates, Bedloe, and Speke, and was em- ployed by persons of similar principles to those who had paid and en- couraged them. The book which peers, magistrates, and ministers of state were found capable of receiving, was the reprint of a libel on the 'exiled queen, Mary Beatrice, and her unfortunate son, the malignity of which was only equalled by its absurdity, being a new and very mar- vellous version of the old tale of her imposing a spurious child on the nation, who, instead of being the child of “ de hrick-hat woman f as before assumed, was, he now pretended, “ the son of the earl of Tyrconnel by a handsome gentlewoman called Mrs. Mary Gray, whom lady Tyr- connel was so obliging as to take the trouble of chaperoning from Dublin to St. James’s-palace, where she was secretly brought to bed of the pretended prince of Wales ; ” adding, “ that the said Mrs. Maiy Gray was conducted to France, and there murdered by the command of Louis XIY., with the consent of her majesty, during the absence of king James in Ireland.” In support of this romance he subjoined various forged letters, especially one in the name of the exiled queen, which he introduces with the following preamble ; “ I shall first set down the true copy of a letter writ by the late queen to king James in Ireland, taken from Mr. Crane when he was apprehended for high treason at the Ship tavern, in Gracechurch-street, on the 5th of March, 1690; and being writ obscurely, I had the honour to make the writing apparently appear to his present majesty, his royal consort, and several noble lords then present in the king’s closet at Kensington, by the steam of com- pound sulphur, &c., which secret was imparted to me by the late queen at 8t. Germains, in order to my conveying the same to her majesty’s chief correspondents in England.” The only assertion in this monstrous tissue of absurdity worth inquir- ing into is, whether William and Mary actually committed themselves, by personally countenancing the barefaced trick of affecting to steam an autograph confession of imposition and murder out of “an obscurely written paper,” for the purpose of vilifying the innocent consort of the unole and father whom they had driven from a throne. The most revolting libel in the book is contained in the statement, that a daughter and a nephew could outrage common decency by acting openly as accomplices of the shameless slanderer. The indignation of the com- mons was excited against the originator of so foul a charge, and the house finally proceeded to declare — “ That the said Fuller was a notorious impostor, a cheat, and a false 1 Sold by A. Baldwin, at the Oxford Arms, in Warwick-lane. 1702.J Fuller sentenced hy parliament to the pillory, 219 accuser, having scandalized their majesties and the government, abused the house, and falsely accused several persons of honour and quality ; for all which offences they voted an address to his majesty, to command his attorney-general to prosecute him.” ^ This was done accordingly, and he underwent the disgrace of the pillory, which, to one so insen- sible of shame, was no punishment,^ Those who are familiar with the journals of parliament and other documentary sources of information, are aware that Fuller was constantly employed as an official spy and informer by William III. or his secre- taries of state ; that he suffered the punishment of the pillory several times for perjury in his base vocation, and continually returned to the charge with the pertinacity of a venomous insect. The accusation of correspondence with the exiled queen was constantly preferred by him against persons obnoxious to the existing government. Not long before king James^ death, he denounced at the bar of the commons several members of that house as confederate with other gentlemen in a plot for restoring that prince, in “ pursuance of which treasonable design they had,” he affirmed, sent letters to the late queen Mary [Beatrice] in a mutton-bone.” As he could bring no evidence of this charge, the com- mons, out of all patience, voted him “ a common nuisance.”^ Fuller, strong in the protection of the existing government, regarded the cen- sure of the representatives of the people as little as he did the law of God against false witness, and republished the libel against Mary Beatrice in 1701, for which he had nine years before been branded with the strongest terms of condemnation a British parliament could express, and suffered the disgraceful punishment of the pillory. It was obvious that he had been suborned to revive his cruel calumnies against the exiled queen in the first month of her widowhood, in order to rob her of the sympathy of her former subjects in her present heavy affliction, in preparation for the blow which the magnanimous nephew and son-in- law of her late consort was about to aim against her and her son at the opening of parliament. William III. was at Loo at the time of his unfortunate uncle’s death. He was sitting at table with the duke of Zell and the electoral prince of Hanover, dining in the presence of his Dutch and English officers, when it was announced to him that this long-expected event had taken place. William received the news in silence, uttering no word in comment ; but it was observed that he blushed, and drew his hat down over his face, being unable to keep his countenance.^ The nature of his secret communing with his own dark spirit, no one presumed to fathom. He returned to England, put himself, his servants, and equipages into 1 Journals of the House of Commons, 24th 3 See Parliamentary Journals, Smollett’s of February, fourth year of William and History of England, and Parliamentary His- Mary, vol. x. p. 693 ; British Museum. tory. 2 Kalph’s Continuation, vol. ii. p. 327. 4 SL Simon. Dangeau. 220 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ 1702 . mourning for king James, summoned his parliament, and caused a bill to be brought into the house of commons for attainting the orphan son of that uncle, for whom he and his household had assumed the mockery of woe. “ This bill could not be opposed,” says Burnet, “ much less stopped : yet many showed a coldness in it, and were absent on the days on which it was ordered to be read.” The boy was but thirteen, yet our amiable prelate’s censure on the coldness which many members of tlie English senate showed in such a proceeding, is not on account of their want of moral courage in allowing the bill to pass by absent- ing themselves, instead of throwing it out by a strong majority, but because they did not unite in the iniquity of subjecting the young prince to the penalty of being executed without a trial, or any other ceremony than a privy-seal warrant, in the event of his falling into the hands of the reigning sovereign. This was not enough to satisfy king William and his cabinet ; their next step was an attempt to subject the widowed queen, his mother, to the same pains and penal- ties. “It,” pursues Burnet, in allusion to the bill for attainting the son of James II., “ was sent up to the lords ; and it passed in that house, with an addition of an attainder of the queen, who acted as queen -regent for him. This was much opposed, for no evi- dence could be brought to prove that allegation ; yet the thing was so notorious that it passed, and was sent down again to the commons. It was objected to there as not regular, since but one precedent, in king Henry Ylll.’s time, was brought for it.” The right reverend historian ventures not to expose his party, by mentioning the precedent which they had shamed not to rake up from among the iniquities of Henry VIII. ’s slavish parliaments, as a warrant for a procedure which casts an indelible stain on William III. and his cabinet, the precedent being no other than that of the unfortunate marquis of Exeter, whom the mur- derous facilities of a bill of attainder enabled the jealous Tudor tyrant to bring to the scaffold in the year 1540, without the ceremony of a trial.^ This illegal attempt on the part of William’s house of lords to intro- duce the name of the royal widow in a parenthesis of the bill for attainting her son by the insulting designations of “ the pretended prince of Wales, and Mary his pretended mother,” ^ is an instance of gratuitous baseness, unparalleled even in the annals of that reign in which they sought for a precedent. The attainder of Margaret of Anjou, and her infant son Edward prince of Wales, by the victorious Yorkists in 1461, was a case somewhat in point, as regarded the position of the exiled queen and the irresponsible age of the prince ; but it has always been regarded as one of the revolting barbarisms of the darkest epoch of our history. It took place, moreover, during the excitement of the most I Journals of the House of Lords. 2 and Parliamentary History. 221 1702 .] Bill of attainder, ferocious civil wars that had ever raged in England, and was voted by steel-clad barons fresh from the slaughter of a fiercely contested battle, where 40,000 men lay dead, among whom were fathers, sons, brothers, and faithtul followers. Queen Margaret had introduced for(?ign troops into the kingdom, and had caused much blood to be spilt, not only in the field but on the scaffold. Mary Beatrice had done none of these things ; she had shed tears, but not blood ; she had led no hostile armies to the field to contest the throne with William for her son ; her weapons were not those of carnal warfare. She had not so much as re- criminated the railings of her foes, or expressed herself in anger of those who had driven her into exile, stripped her of her queenly title and appanages, and not only violated the faith of solemn treaties and unre- pealed acts of parliament, by depriving her both of her income as a queen-consortj and her jointure as a queen-dowager of Great Britain, but even robbed her of her private fortune, the solid eighty thousand pounds which she brought from her own country as her marriage por- tion — conduct that appears disgraceful to the national honor: r, when it* is remembered that she and her two young children were destitute, and depended on the precarious charity of a foreign prince for a home and the common necessaries of life, and that neither as duchess of York nor queen-consort of England, had she ever done anything to forfeit the esteem of her former subjects. She had been chaste, prudent, economi- cal and charitable ; a fond and faithful wife : a step-mother against whom no act of unkindness or injustice could be proved; loyal and patient as a subject, gracious and dignified as a queen, and scarcely less then angelic in adversity. Her religion was a matter between herself and her God, for she never interfered with the consciences of others. Superstitious in her own practice she might be, and probably was ; but it is certain, that if her life and actions had not been irreproachable, her adversaries would not have been reduced to the base expedient of em- ploying the slanders of a notorious criminal like Fuller, to blacken her with charges so monstrous and absurd that they defeated their own ends, by exciting the indignation of every generous mind against the wretch who had been found capable of devising those calumnies. The commons, though well aware that Fuller acted but as the hire- ling tool of others, in thus ostentatiously calling public attention to the reprint of his condemned libel on the exiled queen, which they had pro- nounced “ false and infamous,” summoned him and the printers and publishers to the bar of their house to answer for the misdemeanour ; and regardless of significant hints that he was employed by the secre- taries of state, came to the resolution, nemine contradicente^ “ that Fuller, having taken no warning by the just censure received from the house of commons, 24th February, ^1691, and the punishment, inflicted upon him by just sentence of law, has repeated his evil practices by 222 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1702. several false accusations, in divers scandalous pamphlets, this house doth declare the said William Fuller to be a cheat, a false accuser, and incor- rigible rogue ; and ordered, that Mr. attorney do prosecute him for his said offences.” ^ In this vote the lords also concurred, yet they scrupled not, at the same time, to abet the creatures of the Dutch sovereign in their unconstitutional proceedings against the calumniated queen. The commons had stoutly refused to pass the attainder of the widow of their old master as an additional clause to that of the unfortunate young prince her son, and it is to be regretted that no clerk or reporter was hardy enough to risk the loss of his ears by taking notes of the stormy debates which shook the house on a question so opposed to every principle of the English constitution as that of an illegal attempt of the kind against a royal lady, of whom no other crime had ever been alleged than the faithful performance of her duties towards her deposed consort and disinherited son — duties from which no reverse of fortune could absolve a wife and mother, and least of all a queen. On the 1 st of Feb- ruary, this desolate princess writes to her spiritual friend at Chaillot : “ I will try to lift up my heart, which is in truth much depressed, and well nigh broken.^ . . . The news from England is very strange. God must be entreated for them, since, literally, they know not what they do.” The meekness of this comment on the vindictive proceedings of her foes appears the more touching, from the circumstance of its having been penned the very day before the bill for the separate attainder of the royal widow was read for the first time in the house of lords, February 12 , 0. s. From a refinement of malice, she is designated in that instru- ment, “ Mary late wife of the late king James.” ® The title of queen- dowager was, of course, denied her by the sovereign who had appropriated her dower, and whose design it was to deprive her also of the reverence attached to royalty. The “ widow ” of the late king James he dared not call her, for there was something touching in that description : it came too close to her sad case, and in six simple words told the story of her past greatness and her present calamities, with irresistible pathos. They had attainted a boy of thirteen, “ the only son of his mother, and she was a widow,” and had been their queen ; and they, the peers of England, were required to attaint her also, but not by her true description — not as Mary the widow, but as ‘‘ Mary the late wife of the late king James,” ^ the violation of the English language in this subtle definition being less remarkable, considering that the measure originated with a Dutchman, than the profound observation of the susceptibilities of the human heart * See Journals of both Lords and Com- mons, thirteenth year of William III. 2 Letter of the widow of James IT. to Fran9oise Angelique Priolo, in the archives of France ; Chaillot MSS. 3 See Journals of the House of Commons. The perversions, reservations, and misrepre- sentations in the unfaithful account given by bishop Burnet of this transaction, have been too fully exposed by Ralph, and since by the acute continuator of Mackintosh, to require comment here. ^ Journals of the House of Lords. 1702 .] Bill of attainder against Tier and her son, 223 whicli it denotes, and the careful avoidance jf the use of titles calculated to inspire reverence or compassion. The name of “ widow ” contains in itself a powerful appeal to the sympathies of Christian men and gentle- men for pity and protection. The apostle has said, “ Honour such widows as be widows indeed and such they all knew full well was the desolate and oppressed relict of their deposed sovereign. Noblemen there were in that house, as well as peers, some of whom remembered Mary Beatrice in her early charms and innocence, when she first appeared as the bride of their royal admiral ; many had bowed the knee before her, a few years later, on the day of her consecration as their queen ; when, if any one of them had been told that he would, hereafter, to please a foreign master, unite in subjecting her to the pains and penalties of a bill of attainder, he would perhaps have replied in the words of Hazael, “Is then thy servant a dog, that he should do this thing.?” The dan- gerous contingency of awakening chivalrous feelings or compunctious recollections in the hearts of that assembly was avoided ; the sacred names of queen and widow were denied. The question was finally put, for the third time, on the 20th of Feb- ruary, in the house of lords, “ whether the bill for attainting Mary, late wife of the late king James, of high treason, should pass,” and to the eternal disgrace of those peers who either supported it by their votes, or by absenting themselves from the house on that occasion, allowed the iniquity to be perpetrated, it was carried in the affirmative. Twenty peers, however, among whom the name of Compton bishop of London is included, had the manliness to enter a protest against the vote as illegal, “ because there was no proof of the allegations in the bill so much as offered, and that it might be a dangerous precedent.’' ^ The commons, when the bill was sent down to them, treated it with ineffable contempt : they did not so much as put it to the question, but throwing it under their table, consigned it to oblivion.^ That such a bill could pass a British house of lords must be attributable to the absence of those noble- men who had followed the royal Stuarts into exile, the number of timorous peers over whom the terror of arrest and impeachment hung, and also to the fact that several foreigners had been naturalized and elevated to the peerage by king William, whose votes were at his com- mand. Mary Beatrice writes on the 25th of the same February, n. s. (while the question was still before the lords), to the abbess of Chaillot, in increasing depression of mind : — “ The affairs of which I spoke in my last letter are not domestic affairs, which go on well enough at present, but matters of great im- portance. I hope they will be concluded next week. I ought to go to 1 Journals of the House of Lords. * Parliamentary History. Ralph’s Histoiy of I'mgland. Continuation of Mackintoh. 224 Mary Beavvice of Modena, [1702. Marli on Thursday, but I hope to be free to come to you on Monday, to open my poor heart and rest my body. All those who are about me are convinced of my need of it. They all pity me greatly, and my son is the foremost to recommend me to take this little journey.” ^ Among the Stuart papers in the hotel de Soubise, there is one ex- tremely touching : it is an agitated scrawl in the well-known autograph of the queen, in which she has translated the act of parliament passed under the influence of William III., attainting her son of high treason by the designation “ of the pretended prince of Wales.” It is indorsed thus, in another hand : “1702. Quelles feuilles qui paraissent ecriter de la main de la reine d’ Angleterre, veufe de Jacques 11.^ contenant copie de Vacte pour la conviction du crime de haute trahison du putativ prince de Galles Qe roi Jacques 777.).” The agony with which the widowed queen has translated this last injury of William against her child is apparent in the writing, which is crooked, hurried, and illegible. The attempt to subject herself to the same pains and penalties to which the young prince had been rendered Hable is unnoticed ; it was the arrow that had been aimed at her son which pierced the heart of the fond mother. Proud and sensitive as Mary Beatrice was by nature, the insults and calumnies with which she had been assailed must have been keenly felt, but her personal wrongs are invariably passed over in silence. In one of her letters to her friend Angelique Priolo, without date, but evidently written at this agitating period, she says : “ I have need of consolation, for I am overwhelmed with distress, and these fresh affairs are very disagreeable. Alas ! they are never other- wise for me. Entreat of God, my dear mother, that he would grant me gifts and graces to bear them ; but, above all, those of wisdom of counsel and of strength, whereof I am at present in such extreme want.” 2 After some allusion to the prospect of public affairs in France, which she considered favourable to the cause of her son, she gives the following particulars of her own state : — “ Another consolation is, that my health is as good as you could wish for me. Considering how deeply my malady is seated, it certainly does not increase ; and if there be any change, it is rather an amendment. I eat well. I have slept better for the last fifteen days, although, assuredly, my heart is not tranquil ; but God can do all. He turns and disposes us as he pleases. He mingles the good and ill according to his holy, and always just and adorable will, to which I would conform, in all and through all, and against the struggle of my own sinful inclination. My poor heart is oppressed and bursting, but not the less yours.” ^ 1 Unpublished letters of Mary Beatrice, in James II., in the archives of France ; Chaillot the archives of France. MSS. 2 Autograph letter of the widowed queen of 3 xbidL 225 1702 .] Widowed queen^s regency at St. Germains. It was the act of parliament enforcing an oath for the abjuration of the young prince, her son, that so greatly depressed and agitated the heart of Mary Beatrice. The measure was strongly opposed in the house of commons, and much diplomacy was practised there to throw the bill out by subtle amendments, in order to gain time ; but the Jacobite party were out-manoeuvred, and it passed the lords. The council ordered a special commission to be prepared for giving the royal assent to it with- out delay, the forms requiring it to be signed by the king, in the presence of the lord keeper and the clerks of the parliament. The awful thought, “ f/e tire vers ma occupied the mind of the expiring monarch before the deputation arrived at Kensington-palace, and it was many hours ere they could obtain admission into his presence. The pause was of no common interest ; the fortunes of the two rival claimants of the crown hung on the event. Parliament remained sitting, and the Jacobite party, well aware that William was not in a state to be troubled with business, raised a cry for adjournment, hoping that the bill would be lost by the demise of the sovereign ; but a message from the lords prevented their plan from being carried into effect. The deputation, meantime, entered the royal chamber, but William’s nerveless hand being incapable of giving effect to the last office of hatred, which sur- vived the corporeal powers of sinking nature, by signing the bill, the fac-simile stamp was affixed in his presence. This was the last regnal act of William’s life, of which it might truly be said, “ the end crowns the work.” He expired the next day, March 8, 1702, having survived his unfortunate uncle, James II., scarcely six months. This event had been long expected and eagerly anticipated by the friends of the exiled royal family, as the epoch of a counter-revolution in favour of the son of James II. Burnet complains that the young prince had a strong party in England, who were eager to place him on the throne.^ In Scotland, the dread of a popish sovereign had become secondary to the fear of seeing the ancient realm degraded into a pro- vince to England. The health of the representative of the royal Stuarts had been publicly drank by the title of James YIII., and that of Mary Beatrice as “ the queen-mother Ireland only required a leader, to rise and proclaim her son from one end of “ the green isle” to the other as James III. ; yet Anne succeeded to the throne of the three realms on the death of William III. as peacefully as if there had been no such person in existence as a brother, whom a closely balanced moiety of her subjects considered their king de jure. That no effort was made in behalf of that prince by the Jacobite party, stimulated by the regent- court of St. Germains, and supported by his powerful allies, the kindred monarchs of France and Spain, has been regarded as an inexplicable mystery, but, like many other historical problems, may be explained by 1 History of his Own Time. VOL. V. Q 226 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1702. a little research. From the long hidden Chaillot correspondence, it appears that Mary Beatrice, overwhelmed with the difficulties and perplexities of her position, and, above all, with the feverish excitement of the crisis, was attacked with a dangerous illness just before the death of William, which brought her to the verge of the grave, and completely incapaci- tated her from taking any part in the deliberations of her council on the momentous question of what ought to be done with regard to her son’s claims to the crown of Great Britain. Her life depended on her being kept quiet, on account of the violent palpitations of the heart, and other alarming symptoms with which her illness was accompanied. Her cabinet, torn with conflicting jealousies and passions, could agree on nothing, so of course nothing was done ; and before she was in a state to decide between the opposing counsels of the rival ministers, Middleton and Perth, her step-daughter Anne was peacefully settled on the throne, and the hopes of royalty were for ever lost to her son and his descen- dants. The convalesence of Mary Beatrice was tedious, and her recovery was impeded by the fasts and other austerities which she practised, till her spiritual director, father Kuga, was compelled to interfere, as we find by a letter from that ecclesiastic to madame Priolo, dated March 15, in which he says, “ that he has given the ladies Strickland and Molza to understand the opinions of her majesty’s physicians and surgeons on this subject, and that he shall do everything in his power for the pre- servation of health so precious. However,” continues he, “ the queen has desisted from the mortification of her body in obedience to those counsels, and is following the orders of her physicians and my directions. She has begun to go out for a walk after dinner, and they have taken measures for preventing the importunities of her officers about audi- ences.” ^ Almost the first use the royal invalid made of her pen, was to write a brief note, dated April 13, to her friend Angelique Priolo, which bears evident traces of her inability for application to public business ; but, as usual, she appears more troubled at the sufferings of others than her own. In a letter of a later date she writes more at length. It appears that her ecclesiastics had been amusing her with an account of the miracles said to have been wrought through the intercession of her deceased consort — accounts that were at first very cautiously received by Mary Beatrice. It is, on the whole, a very curious letter : — “ At St. Germains, this 2nd of May. “ At length, my dear mother, I find a moment of time and enough health to write to you. It is certain that I have had a very bad cold for some days past. The nights of Friday and Saturday were so bad, I bavin i; passed them almost entirely in coughing and with palpitations of tlie ^ Inedited letters in the archives oi r’ruuce. 1702 .] Her sickness and poverty. 227 heart, that the doctors at last resolved to bleed me, of which they have no reason to repent, for I am now quite well, not having had any more of the cough, and the palpitations of the heart have been much less ; but this last night has been the best, and I can say the only entirely good one that I have had for eight months. But enough of my poor body. As for my heart, it is in the same state as it was when I left you, never better but often worse, according to the things which happen in the day. These are always wearisome to me, and very disagreeable. I have had, however, the day before yesterday, the pleasure of seeing the king [Louis XIV.] for an hour and a half, and yesterday madame de M was here nearly two and a half. In truth, their affairs are not pleasant, and they have throughout a bad aspect; but God can change all that in one moment when it shall please him, and he will do it if it be for his glory and our good. It is this only that should be asked of him, without wishing for anything else. “ I am impatient to see the brother of the curd of St. Poursain. I hope that you will send him to me soon. I have seen about the conversion of souls, which is a greater miracle than the healing of bodies, attributed to the intercession of our holy king, and it gave me pleasure, although I am not so sensible of it as I could wish. Alas! I know not of what I am made ; the only sensibility that remains in me is for pain. But I am obliged to you, my ever dear mother, for the holy jealousy you have of my love to God. Beseech him to renew it in this poor heart, which, after all, is devoid of rest when it is not occupied with him.” 1 The royal widow of England goes on to speak of a subject of distressing import to her — poverty : “ I am ashamed,” she says, “ of not having sent you all the money I owe you. I will do it the first opportunity. I dare not tell you the state I am in for want of money ; it would give you too much pain.” It seems, however, as if a present to the convent was to be extracted out of the narrow finances of the royal devotee at this most inconvenient season — a present for which the abbess was to advance the purchase-money on her own account. “ Let the veil of the chalice, and all the other neccessary things, be provided,” continues her majesty, “ for it must be done, and in a few days you will be paid. Adieu, my dear mother; in three weeks you shall see us, if it should please God that my poor children be well.”^ The holy ladies of Chaillot had sent an offering from their garden to the queen, for she says, in her postscript, “ the salad was admirable, and the flowers very beautiful. I hope that the king, my son, and my daughter will thank you for them by lady Almonde ; but I always do so, both for them and me. I am sorry,” she adds, “ that your nephew has not got anything. He must humble himself, and not attach himself to things of this earth, for all fail.” i Autograph letters of Mary Beatrice ; Chaillot collection. 2 ibid. Q 2 228 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1702, The dreadful malady which had appeared a few months before king James’s death, now began to assume a painful and alarming form. When her majesty consulted the celebrated Fagon on her case, and entreated him to tell her the truth, without reserve, he frankly acknowledged that the cancer was incurable ; but assured her, at the same time, that her existence might be prolonged for many years, if she would submit to a series of painful operations, and adhere strictly to the regimen he would prescribe. She replied, “ that life was too wearisome to her to be worth the trouble of preserving on such terms but repenting of her passionate exclamation as an act of sinful impa- tience, she added, “ that she would endeavour to conform herself to the will of God, and was willing to do everything her physicians required of her.” Unfit as poor Mary Beatrice was for the excitement and fatigue of business at that period, she was compelled to rouse herself from the languid repose in w’hich her bodily sufferings had compelled her to indulge, in order to decide on a question of painful import to her. Simon Fraser, generally styled lord Lovat,^ had immediately on the death of king William, proclaimed the exiled representative of the house of Stuart king of Scotland, in his own county of Inverness ; and soon after, presented himself at the court of St. Germains, for the purpose of l"-ersuading the queen-mother, as Mary Beatrice was there entitled, to allow the young prince to follow up this daring act in his favour, by making his appearance among his faithful friends in Scotland, engaging, at the same time, to raise an army of 12,000 men in the highlands, pro- vided the king of France would assist them with arms and money, and land 5000 men at Dundee, and 500 at Fort William. Mary Beatrice, enfeebled by her long illness, depressed by the disappointment of the vain hope she had cherished that her step-daughter Anne would not presume to ascend the throne of Great Britain after her oft-repeated penitential professions to her unfortunate father, and in defiance of his deathbed injunctions, listened doubtfully to the project. Her two favourite ministers, Caryl and Middleton, had united in persuading her that it was only through the medium of treaties and amicable conven- tions that her son could be established as the reigning sovereign of Great Britain ; that his cause would be injured by the introduction of French troops ; and that there vras reason to believe his sister Anne cherished favourable intentions towards him, which would be inevitably destroyed l)y attempts to disturb her government. On the other hand, the duke of Perth, who was the governor of the' prince, and had been much beloved by the late king, endeavoured to stimulate the queen to a more 1 For the fullest particulars of this remark- to the history of the royal Stuarts, “ The able person, the reader is referred to his bio- Lives of the Jacobites,” by Mrs. A. T. Thom- gvaphy in that pleasing and valuable adjunct son 1702.] Urged to send her son to Scotland, 229 energetic policy. He showed her a letter from the marquis of Drum- mond, his eldest son, assuring him that the principal lords of Scotland were ready to take up arms in favour of their hereditary sovereign, if he might only be permitted to appear among them — nay, more, that a deputation from them was ready to make a voyage to France, to tender fealty in person to the young king.^ The marquis of Drummond, Sir John Murray, and Sir Eohert Stuart, the head of the clan of Stuart, wrote also to the queen and to the French minister, the marquis of Torcy, by lord Lovat, in whom they entirely confided, to urge the same ; assuring her that Scotland was ready to throw off the yoke of the queen of England, and to assert her inde- pendence as a separate kingdom under the sceptre of the representative of the royal house of Stuart. Ireland was eager to follow the same course, but it was necessary that he should appear among them, for it could not be expected that sacrifices should be made, and perils of life and limb incurred, for an invisible chief.^ Middleton opposed their plans ; he represented the doubtful integrity of Lovat, and the certain dangers to which the prince and his friends would be exposed, and that he had better wait patiently, as queen Anne was childless, and though still in the meridian of life, her extreme corpulence and general infirmity of constitution rendered it improbable that she would occupy the throne long, and, as a matter of course, that the prince would, on her death, peacefully succeed to it. In the meantime he was too young to exercise the functions of regality in his own person, and would be better employed in finishing his education under the eye of his royal mother, than roam- ing about in a wild, unsettled country like Scotland, with rude highland chiefs, from whom he might acquire habits of intemperance and ferocity, and be exposed to the perils of battle and siege, where, as a matter of necessity, he must conduct himself with the daring gallantry that would be expected from a royal knight-errant. Above all, there was the chance of his falling ioto the hands of the party that had persecuted him in his cradle, and even before he saw the light. Mary Beatrice was only too ready to yield to reasoning which was addressed to the fond weakness of maternal love and fear : the terrors of the act of attainder that hung over her boy were always present to her. She remembered the fate of another disinherited and rejected prince of Wales of disputed birth, “ the gallant springing young Plantagenet,” Edward of Lancaster, stabbed by ruthless hands in the presence of the victorious sovereign whose crown he had presumed to challenge as his right. There was also the unfor- gotten scaffold of the youthful Conradin of Suabia, the tearful theme of many a tale of poetry and romance in her native Italy, to appall the heart of the fond mother, and she obstinately and with impassioned 1 Macpherson’s Stuart Papers. Inedited Memorial of the duke of Perth, in the Biblio- theque du Koi. ^ Ibid. 230 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1702, emotion reiterated her refusal to allow her hoy to incur any personal peril during his minority, and while he remained under her guardian- ship.^ Severely as the conduct of Mary Beatrice at this juncture has been censured in the Perth Memorials, ^ it must, at any rate, exonerate her from the calumnious imputation of having imposed a spurious heir on England, since, if she had been capable of the baseness imputed to her by Burnet, Fuller, Oldmixon, and their servile copyists, she would have used her political puppet in any way that appeared likely to tend to her own aggrandizement, without being deterred by inconvenient tender- ness for an alien to her blood, especially as her young daughter would be the person benefited by his fall, if he became a victim. With the prospect of a crown for her daughter, and the dignity and power of a queen-regent of Great Britain for herself, would such a woman, as she has been represented by the above writers, have hesitated to place a supposititious prince in the gap for the accomplishment of her selfish object ? But the all-powerful instincts of nature were obeyed by Mary Beatrice in her anxious care for the preservation of the son of her bosom — that unerring test whereby the wisest of men was enabled to discern the true mother of the child, from the impostor who only pretended to be so. The leaven of selfish ambition had no place in the heart of the fallen queen. She was ardently desirous of seeing her son called to the throne, and her portionless daughter recognised as princess- royal of Great Britain, presumptive heiress of the realm — a station which the extraordinary beauty and fine qualities of the young Louisa promised to adorn. As for herself, she had felt the pains and penalties of royalty too severely to desire the responsibility of governing her former subjects in quality of queen-regent. The genuine simplicity of her character, and the warmth of her affections, are unaffectedly manifested in the fol- lowing letter to her friend Angelique : — “ Lady Tyrconnel assures me that all the embroidery will be done for the beginning of September. I beg you not to spare my purse about it, for things of that kind should not be done at all unless they be well done ; and for this, above all which regards the dear and holy king, I would give to my very chemise. I rejoice that our sick are cured, and that the cei'emony of the new novice has been so well accomplished. I am hurried to the last moment. Adieu ! I embrace you at the foot of the cross.” ^ The embroidery mentioned by Mary Beatrice in this letter, and which she exhorts the abbess not to spare expense in having well executed. 1 Posthumous Memorial of the duke of MSS. in the Bihliotheque du Roi. Penh, on the causes of the political errors of 2 Portfolio of State Papers in the Biblio- the Court and regency of St. Germains during theque du lloi ; St. Germains MSS. the minority of the son of James II. — Inedited . 3 from the original French ; Chaillot MSS. 1702 .] Fond superstitions. 231 was for the decoration of the tribune in the conventual church of Chaillot, where the heart of her deceased consort, king James, was placed, and was to be enshrined there with due solemnity at the anniversary of his death. That day was kept by Mary Beatrice as a strict fast to the end of her life, and it was commemorated by the religieuses of Chaillot with all the pomp- ous solemnities of the Romish ritual. A vast number of persons, of whom the aged bishop of Autun was the foremost, asserted “ that they had been cured of various maladies by touching the velvet pall that covered his coffin, and entreating the benefit of his prayers and intercessions.” These superstitious notions were, doubtless, the result of highly excited imaginations, wrought upon by the enthusiastic reverence with which the memory of this unfortunate monarch was held in France. The grief of his faithful consort was beguiled by these marvellous legends, although she at first listened doubtfully, as if conscious of her own weak point, and dreading imposition ; but the instances became numerous, and being attested by many ecclesiastics of her own church, she soon received them with due unction, and flattered herself that the time was not far distant When the name of the departed object of her undying love would be added to the catalogue of royal saints and confessors in the Romish calendar. When Mary Beatrice entered upon the second year of her widowhood she passed several days in meditation, prayer, and absolute seclusion from the world : during that period she neither received visitors, wrote letters, nor even transacted business, further than works of absolute necessity.^ On the 2nd of October, the day she came into public again, she and her son visited king James’s nearest paternal relative and dearest friend, the abbess of Maubisson, the eldest daughter of the queen of Bohemia, for whom she cherished a spiritual friendship. She also held an especial conference with the celebrated father Masillon, the bishop of Autun, cardinal Noailles, and other dignitaries of the church of Rome, on matters which she appeared to consider of greater importance than affairs of state ; namely, an inscription for the urn which contained the heart of her deceased lord, and the various tributes that had been paid to his memory in funeral sermons, orations, and circular-letters. She writes on these, to her, interesting topics, a long letter to the ex>abbess of Chaillot. The following passage betrays the proneness of human affections to degenerate into idolatry : — “With regard to the epitaph on the heart of our sainted king, I am of opinion that it ought not to be made so soon, since it is not permitted to expose that dear heart to the public to be venerated as a relic, which, however, it will be one day, if it please God, and I believe that it ought to be delayed till that time. M. d’ Autun appears of the same opinion, 1 Letter of lady Sophia Bulkeley to the abbess of Chaillot, ic the archives of France. 232 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ 1702 . and also M. le cardinal, who was with me yesterday two hours on my coming out of my retreat, which has decided me entirely on that point, by saying it ought not to be done at present. Meantime, they are going to make that [an epitaph] for our parish here, which I forgot to tell him [the cardinal] yesterday, or rather, I should say, to remind him of it, for he knows it very well.” The literary reader will perhaps be amused to find her majesty, in the next place, entering so far into the technicalities of publishing, as to discuss new editions, printers, and the business of the press with sister Franfoise Angelique Priolo, who appears to have been the fair chronicler of the convent of Chaillot, to whose reminiscences of the royal widow her biographer is so much indebted. The well-known obituary of James II., published in the circular-letter of Chaillot, seems to have emanated from the same friendly pen, for Mary Beatrice says : — ‘‘ About the new edition of the circular-letter, I pray you to tell our mother (who is willing, I believe, that this letter should serve for her as well as you) that it is true I told M. d’Autun that we would talk it over together at the end of the month, not thinking that you were obliged to go to press before then. M. le cardinal told me yesterday, that unless I wished for the impression myself, he saw no immediate reason for the reprint ; but if you are pressed for it, or if you apprehend the printer will be otherwise engaged, I have nothing to say against the first part ; but you must see that they omit all that regards me — that is to say, that they content themselves with naming my name, and mentioning that I was among you for three days. As to the rest, I confess that I am not of opinion that they ought to add anything new to the letter, at least not before the abridged copies that I had printed are all gone; and M. d’Autun and M. le cardinal are of the same mind. But, really, I cannot imagine that there can be any such hurry about it as to prevent us from waiting till we shall have discussed the matter together, for I intend, if it please God, to come to Chaillot on the 23rd till the 27th, and then, perhaps, my reasons will convert you to my opinion, or yours may make me change it, for it seems to me, in general, that we are much of the same mind. “ I thank our mother and all our sisters with my whole heart, and you especially, my beloved mother, for what you did at the anniversary of my sainted king. All those who were present considered that every- thing was admirably performed, and with much solemnity, which gave me great pleasure ; for if there remain in me any sensibility for that, it is only in those things connected with the memory of the dear king. I have read with pleasure, although not without tears, his funreal oration, which I consider very fine, and I have begged the abbe Roguette to have it printed. I entreat our mother to send the bills of all the expenses. 233 1702 .] Cajoled hy lord Lovat without forgetting the smallest any more than the largest. I will* endea- vour to pay them immediately, or at least a good part of them ; and after that is done, I shall still owe you much, for the heartfelt affection with which you have done all is beyond payment, and will hold me indebted to you for the rest of my life. ‘‘ On reading over my letter, I find it so ill written in all respects, that I know not whether you will be able to comprehend anything. Did 1 not force myself to write, 1 believe I should forget how to do it entirely. I am ashamed ; but with you, my dear mother, who know my heart, there is less need of words.” ^ The royal widow was roused from her dreams of spiritual communion with her departed lord by the turmoils and perplexities which awaited her in the affairs of her nominal regency. In the autumn of 1702, the subtle adventurer, Simon lord Lovat, presented himself once more at St. Germains, bringing with him letters from two faithful adherents of the house of Stuart, the earl of Errol and the earl-mareschal of Scotland, lord Keith. Aware that he had been an object of distrust to Mary Beatrice, he sought to win her confidence and favour by professing to have become a convert to the doctrines of the church of Eome. He had succeeded in persuading, not only the duke of Perth, but the pope’s nuncio of his sincerity, and he was presented by that ecclesiastic to her majesty as a perfectly regenerate character, who was willing to atone for all past errors by his efforts for the establishment of her son as king of Scotland, as the preparatory step for placing him oa the throne of Great Britain. Simple and truthful herself, Mary Beatrice suspected not that motives of a base and treacherous nature could have led him to a change of creed so greatly opposed, at that time, to all worldly interests. She was willing to believe that all his professions of zeal for the church and devotion to the cause of her son were sincere. His specious eloquence was employed to persuade her that Scotland was ready to declare her son king, and to maintain him as such against the power of his sister Anne but they wanted money, and for the present secrecy would be requisite.^ The latter was a quality in which the regency court of St. Germains was notoriously deficient, as the devoted partisans of the Stuart cause had found too often to their cost. The fact that no secret could be kept at St. Germains, had passed into a warning proverb with the great nobles of Scotland, and served to deter several of those who were desirous of the restoration of the old royal line from taking steps for compassing this object. 3 Although Mary Beatrice was in the habit of disclosing her cares, whether spiritual, personal, or political, to her friends at Chaillot, she relied so implicitly on the supposed impossibility of the confidence that * Inedited letters of Mary Beatrice ; Chaillot collection. 2 Maepherson’s State Papers. ^ Ibid., from Nairae’s MSS. 234 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1703. was reposed in such a quarter ever finding its way to the rival court of St. James’s, that she suffered her mind to he imbued with suspicions that the earl of Middleton was not trustworthy. Lovat assured her, that the success of the confederacy of his friends in the highlands de- pended entirely on her keeping it secret from him. Thus she was cajoled into the folly of deceiving her ostensible adviser, the man who stood responsible for her political conduct ; and she stripped herself of the last poor remnant of property she possessed in the world, by send- ing the residue of her jewels to Paris to he sold for 20,000 crowns — the sum demanded by Lovat for the equipment of the highlanders, whom he had engaged to raise for the restoration of her son. - Lovat also insinuated suspicions that the most powerful partisan of her family in Scotland, the earl of Arran, afterwards duke of Hamilton, intended to revive the ancient claims of his family to the crown of that realm, and thus pro- bably traversed the secret overtures for a future marriage between the heir of that house and the young princess Louisa. Nothing alarmed the widowed queen so much as the possibility of her daughter ever being set up by any party whatsoever as a rival of her son. The ruin that might have ensued to the Jacobite nobles and gentry from the rash confidence placed by Mary Beatrice in Lovat, Avas averted by the sagacity of Louis XIY.’s minister, Torcy, who gave the earl of Middleton timely warning of the intrigue. Middleton, though deeply piqued at the want of confidence shown by his royal mistress, was too faithful a servant to allow her to fall into the snares of the unprincipled adventurer. He gravely discussed the matter with her, complained of being a useless tool himself, but besought her not to send Lovat to Scotland without being accompanied by some person of known and tried integrity, to keep watch on him, and to report his jjroceedings to her and her council of regency. Torcy made the same demand in the name of the king his master. Captain John Murray, brother to Sir David Murray of Stanhope, was entrusted with this office, and arrived with Lovat in the north of England early in the summer of 1703.^ Under the fond idea of exciting greater interest in his cause, Mary Beatrice indulged her maternal pride by sending, from time to time, miniatures of her son to the most influential of his adherents in Scotland. A very fine series of these historical relics are in the possession of Sir Peter Murray Threipland, hart., of Fingask-castle, Perthshire, having been preserved through every peril, and proudly transmitted from father to son as precious heirlooms, by that distinguished Jacobite family. Portraits of the disinherited representatives of the ancient royal line of Stuart were contraband possessions in the early part of the eighteenth century, and many of the noble families who treasured them in secret, resorted to an ingenious device at festive meetings, by presenting in a i Stuart Papers. Macpherson’s History of England. Life of lord Lovat. 235 1703.] Her sufferings from cancer. magic mirror the features of “ the bonnie young king over the water ” (as they called the son of Mary Beatrice) to the astonished eyes of those whom they were canvassing in his behalf.^ The exiled queen, in the midst of the cares and perplexities with which she found herself beset as the guardian of a prince so unfortunately situated as her son, was struggling with the pangs and apprehensions excited by the progress of her terrible malady. In one of her letters to the abbess of Chaillot, dated St. Germains, this 2nd of September, she gives the following account of herself : — “ I continued in the same languishing state in which I was at Chaillot three or four days after I left you, and since that, on my return here, I had my breast lanced many times for several days ; after this was over, the pain ceased, as well as the languor, and I am much better. I took, the day before yesterday, a little bath, which I shall repeat, more or less, for I have already bathed fifteen times. Beaulieu will see you to-morrow or Tuesday, and he will give you an account of what Mareschal said after he had seen me. He goes to Paris to see that woman of whom you know, and those who are in her hands, who are better. They will bring her others on whom to try this remedy. Mareschal has assured me that there are not any of them whose case is near so bad as mine. In the meantime I avow to you that I am not without apprehension, and that 1 have great need of prayer ; for we must begin and finish with that.” Mary Beatrice goes on to explain the object which she hoped to obtain, by means far less likely to be pleasing to the Almighty than the holy and humble spirit of pious resignation which she expresses. Her “ sainted king,” as she fondly calls her departed lord, “ is to be invoked; to the end,” continues she, “ that he may entreat for me of God an entire resignation to his holy will, like what he had himself when on earth, and that I may feel a holy indifference as to the cure or aug- mentation of my malady ; and that the Lord would inspire the physicians and surgeons, in their treatment of me, to do whatever may conduce most to his glory and the good of my soul, in healing me, if by that means I am still able to serve him better, and to be useful to my children, or else to give me the patience and fortitude necessary to 1 The effect, which was exhibited to me during my delightful visit at Fingask-castle, where the apparatus is preserved, is produced by placing a cylindrical mirror, in the form of a column, on the table ; before it is laid a small square board, which, to the uninitiated, appears nothing more than a house-painter’s palette, covered with a chance-medley chaos of curves and splashes of different colours, but which is in reality a finely-executed likeness of the Chevali(!r reversed on scientific prin- ciples, so that the projjortions are restored to their right perspective by the cylindrical form of the mirror, wherein a fac-simlle reflection of a beautiful portrai t of that prince in his fifteenth year, wearing a Scotch cap with the white-rose badge of Stuart, a tartan scarf, and the star and riband of the Garter, rises. This pretty historical device unveils the secret of the conjuration, whereby artful fortune- tellers occasionally delude some simple heiress into an unsuitable marriage, by show- ing her in a magic mirror the face of her destined husband. 236 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1703. suffer the greatest torments if it should be more agreeable to him.^ It is two years to-day,” continues the royal widow, and this remark proves that her letter was written in the year 1703, “ since the king [James] fell ill on the day of St. Stephen, king of Hungary.” She sends kind messages to several of the ladies of Chaillot, and especially to sister M. Gabrielle, “ in whose grief,” she says, “ I sympathize with all my heart, for I know what it is to have lost a good mother ; but her virtue will sustain her under it, and God will be to her in the place of all she has lost. It is that consolation I desire for her.” Notwithstanding the earnest wish of Mary Beatrice to submit herself to the will of her heavenly Father, feeble nature could not contemplate the dreadful nature of the death that awaited her without shrinking : the regular medical practitioners could only palliate the anguish of the burning pangs which tormented her. The nuns of Chaillot, though pro- fessing to be possessed of a specific for cancers, had failed to arrest the progress of the disease in its earlier stages, and now she was tempted to put herself under the care of a female who boasted of having performed great cures in cases of the kind. Madame de Maintenon, knowing how desperate were the remedies often employed by empirics, was alarmed lest the sufferings of her unfortunate friend should be aggravated, and her death hastened, by allowing any unqualified person to tamper with her malady. This lady appears to have behaved in a tenderly sym- pathizing manner to the royal sufferer, whose account of the interview must be given in her own words : — ‘‘We wept much together at St. Cyr, at the sad state in which I found myself. She does not much advise me to put myself into the hands of this woman. She said, that if I began to give ear to those sort of people, I should have charlatans besetting me every day with offers of remedies, which would keep me in a perpetual state of uncertainty and embarrassment. However, she agreed that they ought to give a fair trial of her [the doctress’s] remedy. This we will do ; and, in the mean time, I will try to tranquillize my mind, and resign myself entirely into the hands of God, and I can do no more.” ^ The progress of her direful malady appears to have been arrested for a time by the operations to which she had summitted ; she describes her- self, in her next letter, as better, though very weak. She says, “ she hopes to have the pleasure of coming to spend a week at Chaillot, if her health continues to improve, and to go one day to Paris while there, if strong enough ; but if not,” continues she, “ I shall repose myself with my dear good mother. I shall hope to find myself in excellent health after your broth.”® Her majesty appears to have derived benefit, both in health and spirits, from this little journey. Mademoiselle de la Motte, 1 Autograph letters of Mary Beatrice, in the Chaillot collection, hotel de Soubise. 2 Ibid. 3 Chaillot MSS. 1703 .] SicJcness and death in her court. 237 a lady of noble family, who boarded in the convent, was suffering from the same complaint as the poor queen, and was disposed to try the cancer-doctress at Paris. The queen’s French surgeon, Beaulieu, had placed a poor woman who was thus afflicted under the care of the doctress, in order to give her remedies a fair trial, and he was disposed to think favourably of the result,^ as we find from the following passage in one of the queen’s letters from St. Germains ; — “ Beaulieu went yesterday to Paris, and assures me that he found the sick woman conside- rably better since the fortnight he has placed her in the house of the doctress, where she has been well looked and attended to, and eaten nothing injurious. 1 know not if mademoiselle de la Motte has done what we resolved on, but there is yet time, for 1 believe it is nothing so much advanced as my malady. I have had no pain myself for some days, and 1 find myself at present tranquil. ... Adieu, my dear mother ! Let us come to God; let us live but for him, and let us love only him.” 2 Mary Beatrice mentions in this letter having sent the abbess six books for distribution ; these were copies of a brief memoir of James II., which had been prepared and printed at her expense. It is written in French, in a feeble, inflated style, having many words and few facts, and those chiefly descriptive of his devotional exercises. The royal widow, hoAvever, frequently alludes to this work in the course of her correspondence with the holy ladies of Chaillot. In a subsequent letter to the abbess of that house, she says, “ 1 send you this letter by father Bouchet, and a book of the life of the king for him to give you, to replace that which you have given to him. We are all very well,” continues her majesty, “and my son does not mount his horse with such im- petuosity as to incur any danger.”^ Succeeding letters of the queen are of a less cheerful character : sickness was in her household and her family. Her son was dangerously ill, and the friend of her childhood, the countess of Almonde, struggling with a mortal malady. Death had already entered her palace, and begun to desolate her little world by thinning the train of faithful servants who had followed her and her deceased consort into exile. On the 6th of December, 1703, she writes to her friend Angelique Priolo : — “ We have lost this morning a good old man, named Dupuy : he had been with our sainted king more than forty years, and was himself turned of eighty. He was a very good man, and I doubt not that God has taken him to his mercy. Our poor lady Almonde has begun to amend a little since yesterday. I hope that we shall accomplish her business, if it pleases God. I thank our mother and sisters for the prayers they have made for her, and request their continua- tion ; for she is a person very dear to me, and has been useful to me for nearly forty years. But we have another want for your prayers, for the king, my son, was attacked with fever yesterday » Chaillot MSS. 2 Inedited letters of Mary Beatrice, in the archives of France. 2 jbid. 238 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ 170 ! afternoon. I hope, however, nothing will come of it, for he is not worse this morning. The shivering began at seven o’clock : he did not go to bed till near nine, and the perspiration lasted till five. They have given him a remedy this morning, which has greatly relieved him, and I hope the worst is over. We cannot, however, be sure till to-morrow is past; so, if you have no tidings from me after to-morrow, you are to conclude that he is better. My own health appears to me better than it has ever been. God grant that I may serve him the better for it.” The countess of Almonde, for whom Mary Beatrice expressed so much solicitude in the above letter, was the Anna Yittoria Montecuculi of the early pages of her biography, the same who accompanied her to England when she left her own country as the virgin bride of the duke of York. Lady Almonde was, with the exception of madame Molza, the last sur- viving of the companions of her childhood by whom Mary Beatrice was attended on that occasion — one of the few who could sympathize with her feelings towards the land of her birth, or enter into her reminiscences of the old familiar palace where they were both brought up. • Her majesty mentions her again with tender concern, in the following letter to Angelique Priolo : — “ St. Germains, 26th of March. “ The abb^ de Eoguette will charge himself with this letter, and save me from sending my courier to-day, as I had intended. The letter of milady Strickland was already written. You will see that I greatly approve of your thought of putting mademoiselle de Dempsy at Amiens. I wish they would take her for three months, and I would pay her pen- sion. She will give you an account also of lady Almonde, who has had a bad night. However, I don’t think she is so near death as I believed the other day. They decide absolutely that she goes to Forge ; I greatly fear she will never return, but they must do all they can, then leave the event to God. Milady Strickland gives you the account of my health, which is good — better, indeed, than usual. I hope that nothing will prevent me from embracing you, my dear mother, on Monday next, before compline. It must not, however, wait for me, for I am not very sure of my time. I believe that I shall go to Marli one day this week.” On the 19th of April, her majesty thanks Angelique Priolo for the sympathy she had expressed for the great loss, “ which,” says she, “ I have had of our dear lady Almonde.^ You know better than any other the cause I have to regret her ; and you give so true a description of my feelings, that I have nothing to add to it. Yet I must own to you that my heart is so full of grief in its desolation since my great loss, that all others appear of less account to me than they would have done before that time The king [Louis XIY.] came to-day ; madame 1 Inedited letters of Mary Beatrice, in the archives of France. 1703.] Lord Loved' s treachery, 2S9 de Maintenon may, perhaps, to-morrow. Lady Bulkeley gives you an account of the sickness of the king, my son. It will be of no consequence, please God, hut I was alarmed the day before yesterday, in the evening. I am grieved for the indisposition of mademoiselle de la Motte. Assure her of my regard, and the beloved econome. I see well how much the good heart of the dear portress has felt the death of lady Almonde. I thank you and our mother for all the prayers you make, and have made, for that dear departed one. They cannot doubt of her happiness from the history of her life and of her death, which had all the marks of a death precious in the sight of God. Alas! I did not believe it had been so near. It is impossible to tell you more, for I have not a moment of time.” ^ The occupations of Mary Beatrice were anything but agreeable at this period, when the treachery of a plausible villain made the loss of the tried friends of early life appear irreparable calamities. Lord Lovat had returned to St. Germains in the preceding January, 1704, and delivered a false account of the proceedings in Scotland and the north of England. “ At Durham,” he said, “ in particular, the Catholics received him with open arms, and when he showed them the picture of the young king, knelt down and kissed it, and prayed for him. That there was a general meeting of all the gentlemen of that persuasion soon after, and that they sent four of their number to entreat him to inform the queen, that all the Catholics in the north of England were ready to venture their lives and fortunes for the king, whenever his banner should be displayed in that country. Also, that an Irish nobleman declared, that if the king of France would send them arms, he would engage 5000 men to rise in Ireland; that the earl of Leven, on his representations, begged him to make his peace with the young king ; and even the earl of Argyle had said, that rather than the duke of Hamilton should get the crown, he and his kindred and clan would be the first to draw his sword for king James’s son.”^ Mary Beatrice listened at first with eager credulity to tales so flattering to her maternal hopes, and returned a gracious answer without consulting lord Middle- ton. She had not seen, though her biographer has, the evidences of Lo vat’s treachery in the letters addressed by him to the earl of Notting- ham,^ commencing with the date of his first appearance at St. Germains in 1699, proving that he came there as the accredited spy of king William’s cabinet. Mary Beatrice had misdoubted him then, and, regarding his private character with disgust, induced her royal husband to forbid him tb^.ir presence ; but his pretended conversion and zeal for the church Ok itome, made her fancy that he was a regenerate person. 1 Tnedited letters of Mary Beatrice, in the * Jnedited MSS. in the Bibliothcqiie du archives of France. Roi. 2 Stuart Papers, in Maepherson. 240 Mary Beatrice of Modena, L’7^3. Lord Middleton detected at a glance discrepancies in Lovat’s state- ments ; he waited on the queen, and showed her a duplicate memorial which Lovat had sent to him. Her majesty replied, “ that she had received one of the same date, and to the same purpose, to which she had given her answer already.” Middleton, surprised and mortified, replied, drily, “that was enough,” and withdrew, observing, in the bitterness of his heart, that “ he was hut an useless tool.” He deter- mined, however, not to indulge his resentful feelings so far as to leave the game in the hands of Lovat, by resigning his post after the diplo- matic affront he had received from her majesty. He laid the matter dispassionately before the French minister De Torcy, and the nuncio, and got the latter to disabuse the queen. He also induced him to pro- pound a list of questions to Lovat, in the name of her majesty, especially demanding who the Irish nobleman and the gentlemen in the north were, who had, as he pretended, made such large promises of assistance to the cause. Lovat declared “ that one and all had engaged him to promise not to tell their names to any one but the queen, to whom,” he said, “ he was ready to declare them in private audience ; and then only on her majesty giving her royal word not to reveal them to the members of her council, because they had experienced how little they regarded secrecy.” ^ When captain John Murray, the companion of Lovat’s journey, whom he had contrived to leave in the lurch, arrived at St. Germains, he pro- duced many proofs that the latter was the bribed instrument of queen Anne’s cabinet. Lovat took up the tone of an injured person, and wrote to the earl of Middleton : — “lam daily informed that the queen has but a scurvy opinion of me, and that I rather did her majesty bad than good service by my journey. My lord, I find by that, that my enemies have greater power with the queen than I have ; and to please them and ease her majesty, I am resolved to have no more to do with them till the king is of age.” In conclusion, he tells Middleton “ that he relies on the promises the ladyf meaning Mary Beatrice, “ had made in his behalf.” ^ The duke of Berwick wrote to his royal step-mother, warning her against Lovat, and enclosed a letter from an Irish priest, called father Farrell, exposing the base treachery he had practised against a faithful adherent of her son’s cause in London ; — “ Your majesty,” says Berwick, “ will see here a new confirmation of Lovat’s knavery ; and I believe it is absolutely necessary that your majesty send a French translation of this paper to the marquis de Torcy. The affair is of great consequence, and your majesty may depend that the king’s affairs are ruined unless lord Lovat is appre- hended.” ® 1 Stuart Papers ; Macpherson. 2 ibid. ^ ibid. Tossed like a feather on a stream amidst contending 'parties, 241 In consequence of Berwick’s advice, Lovat was arrested by the French government, and sent to the castle of Angouleme : abundant reason appeared, for detaining him a close prisoner for several years. One of his objects in cajoling the widowed queen of James II. was, to obtain credentials to the adherents of the Jacobite cause. Mary Beatrice had entrusted him with a letter to the duke of Gordon ; this he used as a weapon in a quarrel of his own, by transferring it to an envelope addressed to his great enemy, the duke of Athol, and then placing it in the hands of Queensberry, as an evidence that Athol was in correspondence with the mother of the disinherited representative of the house of Stuart. There can be no doubt but the employment of so unprincipled a person as LoVat did an infinity of mischief to the Jacobite cause in Scotland, especially as the cabinet of queen Anne made use of his information as a pretence for pursuing arbitrary measures to overawe the opposers of the Union. The intrigues and counter-intrigues, the double treasons, the bribery and corruption, the agitation and the follies, that were per- petrated at that momentous crisis belong to general history, and can only be occasionally alluded to in these pages in illustration of the letters and personal conduct of the unfortunate widow of the last of our Stuart kings, in the fulfilment of duties which her titular office of regent or guardian to the young prince, their son, imposed on her. Alas ! for any woman who is placed in circumstances like those with which Mary Beatrice had to struggle, while carrying the fire in her bosom that was slowly consuming her living frame, denied the repose for which her suffering body and weary spirit sighed, conscious of her own helpless- ness, and tossed like a feather on a strong stream by the adverse currents of warring parties i The duke of Marlborough, in his secret correspondence with the court of St. Germains, lamented that his nephew, the duke of Berwick, should have been removed to Spain, instead of remaining on the spot to be in readiness for action. He was, in fact, the proper person to have acted for the young prince, his half-brother, being the only man of talent and decision at the exiled court. He enjoyed, moreover, the entire con- fidence of his royal father’s widow, who entertained almost a maternal affection for him, and he always treated her with profound respect, and bears the highest testimony to her moral worth in his memoirs, where he speaks of her testimony, in a disputed matter, as decisive. “ The queen told me so,” says he, emphatically, “ and she was a princess of great veracity.” Berwick had good reason to think well of Mary Beatrice. She had stood his friend with his royal father twice, when he had displeased him by contracting love-marriages. Berwick having, after the death of his first duchess, wedded one of her majesty’s maids of honour, the daughter of colonel and lady Sophia Bulkeley, Mary Beatrice kindly appointed the young duchess of Berwick as lady of the VOL. V. E 242 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1704. bedchamber, and treated her almost as if she had been a daughter of her own, retaining her about her person during the duke’s absence in his campaigns.^ After the death of king James, Berwick wishing to be naturalized as a subject of France, her majesty exerted her utmost influence with Louis XIY. and madame de Maintenon to promote his interests. She also wrote in his behalf so warmly to the princess des Ursins, whom she had formerly known in her early youth, and, indeed, claimed kindred with, through her mother the late duchess of Modena, that she succeeded in obtaining for him the post of generalissimo of the French armies sent by Louis to support his grandson’s pretensions to the crown of Spain against the archduke Charles, queen Anne’s protege,^ The brilliant exploits of the son of James II. in that campaign were certainly such as to do honour to the earnest recommendation of his royal step-mother, if that title may be bestowed on Mary Beatrice. Those who are familiar with Marlborough’s secret transactions, under the feigned name of Armsworth, with the court of St. Germains, and its agents in England and Holland, and, at the same time, trace the rise and progress of the deadly hatred between his imperious helpmate and queen Anne, will be at no loss to divine the nature of the project that was inadvertently traversed by the successful efforts of Mary Beatrice for the employment of the brilliant talents of one so near and dear to her departed lord, in a more important sphere than her impoverished shadow of a court could offer. If she had possessed the selfish talents meet for the position she occupied, she would have prevented Berwick from divorcing his fortunes from those of her son, in order to secure those services in his cause, which were eventually the means of esta- blishing the Bourbon dynasty on the throne of Spain. Berwick was, perhaps, the only man attached to the cause of her son whom the cautious favourite of fortune, Marlborough, could rely on ; and when he was removed from the scene, the game might be considered a losing one. In August 1704, Louis XIY. gave a grand fete and illuminations at Marli, to celebrate the birth of a great-grandson of France, the infant duke of Bretagne, the first-born of the duke and duchess of Burgundy. Mary Beatrice, with her son and daughter, were among the guests : out of compliment to the titular rank they held in that court, they were given the place of honour, taking precedence of every person but the king of France, who, according to his invariable custom, gave the hand to the widowed queen.^ Her feelings were little in unison with the pomp and pageantry of royalty, if we may judge from the strain in which she writes the next day to her friend at Chaillot, her faithful heart occupying itself neither with the splendid festivities of which she had been a joyless spectator at Marli, nor the anticipation of her ap- * St. Simon. 2 Stuart Papers, in Macpherson. ^ Memoirs of the duke de St. Simon. 243 1704.] HI health of her son. preaching visit to Fontainebleau, but in making arrangements to assist in the services of her church for the mournful anniversary of her beloved consort’s death : — “ St. Germains, this Wednesday. ‘‘ I went yesterday to Marli, and my daughter also, for the first time* We supped there. 1 found madame de Maintenon not half well. All have their afflictions. I have not seen her since your misfortune. I can feel with all my heart for desolate wives and mothers. The religieuses are happier, for they have nothing nearer than nephews to lose.” ^ The health of the prince was very delicate ; indeed, he appeared to hold his life on a tenure so precarious as to be an object of perpetual anxiety to his widowed mother. On the 15th of December, 1704, she writes to the abbess of Chaillot : — “ I thank you for your prayers for the king, my son, and I entreat you to continue them, for certainly he is not better ; he had the fever again on Saturday and Sunday. They bled him yesterday morning and I did not find that his cold was at all relieved by it, but he has no fever to-day. God is the master, and must do for him and me whatever it shall please Him. Mydaughter is very well, and I am better than usual ; but, my dear mother, it will be impossible to be at Chaillot till the Sunday after Christmas. I had reckoned that my sister Le Yayer would take the habit on the Friday, and 1 should return on the Saturday morning ; but in the state in which I see my son, I cannot quit him for some days, and unless he should be better than he is now, I cannot hope to pass Christmas with you.”^ In the early part of the year 1705, all other cares and anxieties that oppressed Mary Beatrice appear to have been forgotten in her trembling solicitude for the health of her boy. On the 14th of February, she informs her friends at Chaillot that he continues in a languishing condi-- tion, and recommends him to their prayers. Six days later he was so seriously ill, that the fond mother, in the anguish of her heart, despair- ing of the power of medical skill to save him, wrote in great agitation to the abbess of Chaillot, imploring the intercession of that friendly com- munity with Heaven in his behalf ; and also that they would endeavour, by earnest prayers, to obtain that of the deceased king, her husband, in whose canonization she was a devout believer, for the recovery of her 8on.3 Her letter contains evidences of fervent but misdirected faith, a fond reliance on the intercession of saints for that which should have been sought of God through the intercession of a divine Mediator alone. Due allowance ought, however, to be made for the effects of a conven- ’ tual education on an ardent daughter of the South, with whom it must be remembered that the Communion of Saints (of which an abstract * Autograph letter of Mary Beatrice, in the Chaillot cobection. 2 ibid. * Ibid. 244 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ 1704 . belief is professed in the creeds of our own church) is an active principle, including a mystin unity between the saints above and the devout servants of God in the flesh ; and to them it appears like a golden chain, that reaches from earth to heaven, and from heaven to earth again. No one but the most tenderly devoted of mothers could have desired the life of a male claimant of the crown of England to be prolonged, whose existence alone prevented the amicable arrangement of all dis- putes and difficulties, by the recognition of her daughter, the princess Louisa, as the successor of queen Anne. No jealousies could have been entertained by that sovereign of rivalry from a younger sister, and all national fears for the interests of the church of England might have been obviated by a marriage with the hereditary prince of Hanover — a measure that could not even be proposed during the life of her brother. As regarded the succession to the throne of England, the princess Louisa lay under no disabilities ; neither acts of attainder nor oaths of ab- juration had passed against her ; and if the personal existence of this youngest and most promising scion of the Stuart line had never -been publicly noticed by contending parties, it was, perhaps, because her political importance was secretly felt by the subtle calculators who were aware of the delicacy of her brother’s constitution, and the yearning of the childless Anne towards a successor of her own name and blood. The death of the unfortunate son of James II. at that epoch, would have excited a general feeling of sympathy for his mother and sister ; the stumbling-stone of offence would have been removed, and all fears of civil wars averted, by restoring the regal succession to the regular order. In that case, Mary Beatrice would, as a matter of course, have been recalled to England with her daughter. She would have been relieved from all her debts and pecuniary difficulties by the payment of her join- ture and its arrears; she would have had one or more of her former royal abodes assigned for her residence, with a suitable establishment for the youthful heiress-presumptive of the realm, and the prospect of in- creased power and importance in the event of the princess succeeding tc the crown during her minority. The unexpected recovery of the prince prevented the realisation of this flattering perspective. He completed his seventeenth year, and his sister her thirteenth, in the following June. The princess Louisa, who had inherited all her mother’s beauty, was now publicly introduced at the French court, where, as the daughter of a king and queen of Eng- land, and sister to a prince whose title to the crown of that realm was supported by France, she was given precedence, over every lady there except her own mother, who always had the place of honour allowed ' her by Louis XI Y. The following particulars of a grand ball at Marli, in July 1705, at '^hich the royal exiles of St. Germains were present, 1 705 .] Boyol French halls, 245 will show the respectful consideration with which they were treated. At the upper end of the long spacious saloon in which the ball took place, three fauteuils were placed, for the king of France, the widowed queen of England, and her son. Mary Beatrice, as in the lifetime of her royal consort, occupied the middle seat. Opposite to them were benches for the dancers ; the other members of the royal family occu- pied pliants. Behind the royal dais were the refreshments. The titular king of England ojjened the ball with his sister, and the king of France stood all the time they were dancing. This he always would have done, every time this young royal pair danced together, if Mary Beatrice had not entreated him to be seated ; but it was not till he had paid them this mark of respect twice or thrice, that he would consent to sit down. Mary Beatrice always sat between Louis and her son at supper, with her daughter and the immediate members of the royal family of France. There was a separate table for the officers of her household on these occasions, at which the duke of Perth presided. 1 The attention which had been paid to herself and her children must have been cheering to the royal widow, for she writes in better spirits than usual to her friend, the abbess of Chaillot : — “ St. Germains, 27th July, 1705. ‘‘ I believe, my dear mother, that you are almost ready to be in a pet with lady Bulkeley and me, because we have been so long without sending you any news. It is true that we are to blame, but you would be much more so if you could think that it was from forget- fulness ; for I should as soon forget my children and myself, as forget Chaillot and my dear good mother Priolo. But since Thursday we have had journeys and fetes ; besides which, my little malady often prevents me from writing, and lady Bulkeley likes better to wait till she can send you one of my letters, believing that it will give you more pleasure We are all well here, thank God, and my son much better than usual, and more lively. The last news from Flanders is not good, but he must not be discouraged, nor cease to pray.” 2 Mary Beatrice was soon after attacked with a severe relapse of her distressing malady, and continued under surgical treatment for several weeks. “ If after four days,” writes she, “ I return to my usual state, I think of endeavouring to go to Fontainebleau by water. Nothing would draw me thither but the love of my daughter, and it will be for the last time in my life, even if that life should be prolonged.” ^ Mary Beatrice did not adhere to this resolution, made, in the sadness of her 1 Memoires de St. Simon, vol. iv. pp. 395. 396. 2 Inedited letters of Mary Beatrice; Chaillot collection. a Ibid. 246 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1705. heart, at a time when she declares that the motion of a coach was insupportable to her, and all the pageantry of a court, full of fatiguing ceremonies and frivolous etiquettes, appeared in the light of vanity and vexation of spirit to her overburdened and suffering frame. In another of her letters to the abbess of Chaillot, evidently written at this period, she says : — “ I sent my daughter to you the other day, my dear mother, and with her my whole heart and soul, not having power at that time to drag my body thither, but now I hope to have the pleasure of embracing you myself next Thursday. I have been dying to go to Chaillot for the last three months, and at last I cherish the hope that God will permit me that pleasure in three days.” ^ The fallen queen adds, with impressive earnestness : — “ But we must strive, above all, to profit our souls by it, and for this purpose we must excite and encourage each other reciprocally to adore and to love the very holy decrees of God in everything that he is pleased to do with us, that we may submit to it with meekness and patience, if we cannot with joy, to which I confess I have not yet attained ; but God will assist us in his mercy, and will give us strength proportioned to our difficulties. I supplicate this of him with all my heart, and am in him, my dear mother, entirely yours, “ M. K.” Indorsed — “For m dear mother Priolo.”^ It is certain that the queen’s surgeon, Beaulieu, must have possessed great skill in the treatment of cancer, for the fatal progress of this dread- ful malady was once more arrested, and the royal patient, to her own surprise, and that of all the world, became convalescent. A cheering account of the improved health of both mother and son, in the autumn of the same year, appears in the private correspondence of the prince’s confessor, father Saunders,^ dated November 28, 1705. “The king is very well, and grows tall and strong. The queen, also, is much better than she was, and it is hoped that the lump in her breast is not so dangerous as was once thought. The princess is one of the most complete young ladies of her age, very witty and handsome, and of a most excellent good-humour, which gains the hearts of all who know her.” The secret correspondence of the court of St. Germains with the Jacobite agents in England and Scotland, meanwhile, is rather curious than important. Marlborough, under the nom de guerre of Armsworth, and Godolphin, under the name of Gilburn, or Goulston, are frequently mentioned, in Caryl and Middleton’s letters, as making professions to 1 Chaillot correspondence, preserved in the priest at the English seminary at Rome.— hi)tel de Sonbise. ^ jhj(j Rawlinson’s miscellaneous MSS., No. 21 ; 3 Letters of father Saunders to Meredith, a Bodleian library, Oxford. 1705.] Secret correspondence with Marlborough and Godolphin. 247 the exiled family. The following observation is in one of Caryl’s, dated June 30, 1705 : — “ I must also own the receipt of yours of the 3rd of May, wherein you relate what passed between you and Mr. Goulston, which merchant is not so prodigal of his words as his partner Armsworth, and therefore they are somewhat more to be relied on ; and unless they both join to deceive, much may be hoped from their agreeing in the same story.” ^ Those double-minded statesmen had assured the widow of James II., that the bill for the Protestant succession would be rejected in the Scottish parliament, and everything that honour and justice could require should be done for the “ prince of Wales,” as they still termed the son of their late master.^ Mary Beatrice was only too willing to be deceived ; and when the bill for extinguishing the hopes of her son was actually thrown out by that senate, she was persuaded by her cabinet to impute it rather to the friendly policy of lord Godolphin, than to the inalienable attachment of the northern aristocracy to the representative of their ancient monarchs. Godolphin’s lingering regard for the exiled queen rendered him really desirous of arranging matters with queen Anne and her cabinet for the payment of the dowry and its arrears, and if he had possessed the moral courage to come forward openly in parlia- ment, with a manly appeal to the compassion and justice of a generous and chivalric nation in behalf of the royal widow (whose destitution was a reproach to those who had been proud to bend the knee before her in the short-lived days of her greatness), there can be little doubt but her claims would have been allowed. She had an act of parliament in her favour, which even those who had disgraped the name of English peers by their unconstitutional attempt to attaint her had not so much as endeavoured to get repealed, because the sense of the house of commons had been clearly shown by furnishing king William with supplies for the express purpose of fulfilling that obligation, though he had, as before explained, applied them to his own use. Godolphin was aware of all this, but his own crooked paths rendered him timid and irresolute. His correspondence with the exiled queen and her agents was more than suspected by the whigs. Lord Wharton boldly declared in the upper house, “ that he had my lord treasurer’s head in a bag.” This menace paralyzed the vacillating minister ; he crouched like a beaten hound, and submitted to do all and everything that was demanded by his political antagonists, even to the outlay of an enormous sum in purchas- ing a majority in the Scotch parliament to carry measures perfectly opposed to his own inclinations, and it was supposed no less so to the secret feelings of the reigning sovereign, queen Anne.® The Scotch Jacobites urged Mary Beatrice and her minister for 1 Stuart Papers in Macpherson, from 2 ibid Nairue. ^ Stuart Papers, in Macpherson. 248 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1706, money and arms ; they represented to the arbiter of her son’s destiny, Louis XIY., how serviceable even the small sum of thirty thousand livres would be, to enable their friends to put arms in the hands of those who burned to decide the question of the Union, not in the senate, but in the field. Louis had already paid too dearly for yielding to the dic- tates of his lively sympathy for the widow and orphans of his unfortu- nate cousin James, to venture to act independently of his cabinet at this crisis. The expensive wars in which that political blunder had involved France had crippled his resources. The victories of Marl- borough taught him that he had work to do to guard his own frontier ; and although he might, perhaps, have made the best diversion in his own favour by sending troops and arms to assist in raising an insun-ection against queen Anne’s government in Scotland, his ministers could not be induced to hazard the experiment. On the 20th of March, 1706, Saunders again notices the improved health of the queen, and that the painful tumour in her bosom was decreasing. He adds the following particulars of her son and daughter ; “ The king is very well, and grows strong and tall. He has begun to ride the great horse, and does it very gracefully, and all say he will make a very good horseman. He has a great desire to make a campaign, and the queen has asked it of the king of France, who has not as yet con- sented to it. In all appearance it would do our king a great deal of good, and be much to his honour and reputation ; but the king of France will be loath to let him go till he can send him like a king. The prin- cess is very tall of her age, and by her wit and gracious behaviour charms all that come near her.” ^ The son of Mary Beatrice alid James II. obtained his political majority on the lOth of June, 1706, when he completed his I8th year. The regency of the queen-mother was then supposed to terminate, but she continued virtually the leading power at St. Germains as long as she lived, though her son was treated by herself, and every one in the exiled court, as their sovereign and master. Lord Middleton commends the industry and application of ibis prince to business, and extols his abili- ties ; 2 but these were only shown in the easy, pleasant style of his epistolary correspondence, whether diplomatic or personal, in which he excelled most of his contemporaries. 'I’he following affectionate con- gratulation to his friend the marquis of Drummond, on the approach- ing marriage of that nobleman, is one of the earliest specimens of his familiar letters : — “ St. Germains, June 29, 1706. “ Having found a safe opportunity of writing into Scotland, I take that occasion of writing this note to you. I will say nothing to you of 1 CJorrespondence with Meredith. — Rawlinson’s MSS., Bodleian library, Oxford. Macpherson’s Stuart Papei-s. 1707 .J Takes precedence of every lady ai the court of France, 249 my own affairs, referring to what 1 writ to you and other friends, which will be communicated to you by the countess of Errol, your aunt, and so will only add here, how pleased 1 was to hear that your marriage with the duke of Gordon’s daughter is like to be soon concluded. The kindness 1 have for you and your father makes anything agreeable to me that I think so much for your interest as I think this is. I am very sensible of your own and family’s services, as I hope one day to be in a condition of showing you, and of giving you proofs of my kindness for you. “ James, R.^ “ Pray remember me very kindly to lord John Drummond ; do the same to lord Stormont, and assure him I shall not forget the zeal he has for my service, nor the care he took of me when a child.” All that personal kindness and courtesy could do to render the widowed queen and her son easy under the tantalizing fever of hope deferred, was done by Louis XIY. He treated them, in all respects, as his equals, and caused the same honours to he paid to them. A fortnight never passed without his making them a visit in state at St. Germains, be- sides coming much oftener in private with madame de Maintenon. He invited them and his young god-daughter, the princess Louisa, to all his fetes at Marli, Versailles, and Trianon, where he invariably treated them as the dearest of relatives, and most honoured of guests.^ If the queen came in state, he received her, as he had done in the lifetime of king James, at the entrance of the first ante-room, and leading her into the presence-chamber, stood conversing with her, and her son and daughter, for some minutes before he conducted them into his private saloon, where madame de Maintenon was waiting to receive them. Mary Beatrice, in fact, was paid the same deference in that court as if she had been a queen of France, and took precedence of every lady there.*'* The near relationship of Adelaide of Savoy, duchess of Burgundy, to James 11. and his children on the one hand, and to Mary Beatrice on the other, precluded jealousy on her part. She had grown up from infancy in habits of intimacy and affection with the royal exiles. Mary Beatrice was always invited to be present at her accouchements. The affectionate interest with which her majesty alludes to one of these events, in a letter to the abbess of Chaillot, January, 1707, is very pleasing. She says : — “ God has accorded a great mercy to us in granting us another prince : he must be entreated for him. I could not possibly arrive at Versailles before the birth of the child, since the king himself did not enter the chamber till after it was over. Madame the duchess of Burgundy was * Royal autograph letters in the archives of to whom my best acknowledgments are grate- the noble house of Drummond of Perth, No. fully offered. 14, inedited. Courteously communicated by 2 jyj emoires de St. Simon. Dungcau. the representative of that ancient historical 3 lamily, the baroness Willoughby d’Eresby, 250 Mary Beatrice of Modena, ] 1 707 only ill three-quarters of an hour : she is wonderfully well. 1 saw her after dinner, and the infant. He is not so beautiful as the other, hut he has a smaller head, and is better proportioned, and looks as if he would live long, as I hope he may, through the grace of God.” Sometimes Louis XIY. would invite Mary Beatrice to come with her son and daughter, and ladies, on fine summer afternoons, and walk with him and his court in the royal gardens of Marli ; and it was on these occasions that the widowed queen used to take the opportunity of pre- ferring any little request, either for herself or others, to her royal friend. The public promenade was always one of the recreations of the court of St. Germains, even in the sorrowful days of king James II. ; but it be- came much more attractive after the decease of that unfortunate king, when his son and daughter, and their youthful attendants the children of the Jacobite aristocracy — English, Scotch, and Irish, who had fol- lowed their majesties into exile, grew up, and the vivacity of French habits and associations in some degree counterbalanced the depression caused by penury and ruined prospects. "ILe lively letters and doggerel lyrics of count Anthony Hamilton, the self-appointed poet-laureate of the court of the exiled Stuarts, prove that, after time had a little assuaged the grief of the queen and her children, a good deal of fun and frolic occasionally went on in the old palace and its purlieus. In one of Hamilton’s letters to his friend the duke of Berwick, he says, “ The king our young lord increases every day in wit, and the princess, his sister, becomes more and more charming. Heaven preserve her from being stolen from us ! for her lady governess seems to have no other fear than that. These two are always near their august mother, to whom they pay the most tender and dutiful attention. To these precious ones of hers, who are adorned with the virtues of their father, it is her care to inculcate sentiments of gratitude towards the illustrious protector who, in a foreign land, by a thousand friendly cares mitigates the hard- ships of their adverse destiny. We will now,”^ continues the sprightly old wit, “ speak of our beauties, those stars of St. Germains who are always cruel and disdainful. Winter is drawing to an end, and they are beginning to prepare their nets against the spring. They have re- paired, washed, and spread out all the delicate laces of which their cor- nettes are composed, to bleach in your garden : all the bushes there are covered with them, like so many spiders’ webs. They are putting all their falbalas into order, and, in the meantime, plunged in sweet reveries, they permit the designs to sleep on their tapestry frames.” Hamilton describes the son and daughter of Mary Beatrice as possessing great personal attractions. “ The figure of our young king,” says he, “ might be chosen by a painter for the model of the god of love, if such a deity dared be represented in this saintly court of St. Germains. As 1 Oeuvres du Count Hamilton. 1707.J Tlie princess Louisa Stuart, 251 for the princess, her hair is very beautiful, and of the loveliest tint of brown ; her complexion reminds us of the most brilliant yet delicate tints of the fairest flowers of spring : she has her brother’s features in a softer mould, and her mother’s eyes.” In another description of her he says, “ She has the plumpness one adores in a divinity of sixteen, with the freshness of an Aurora ; and if anything more can be said, it must be in praise of the roundness and whiteness of her arms.” The portrait of a beautiful nameless princess, in the costume of the beginning of the eighteenth century, in the guard-chamber at Hampton-court, will readily be identified by this glowing description of the honorary laureate of St. Germains as that of the youngest daughter of James II., even by those who are not familiar with her other portraits. How it came there is the question, but there can be little doubt of its having been sent to her sister, queen Anne, by the proud mother of this exquisite creature, who was good as she was fair. Notwithstanding all the griefs, cares, and pecuniary difficulties that at times oppressed the exiled queen, her family, and faithful followers, they led a pleasant life in summer time — a life which, as described by Hamil- ton, appears to have been a complete realization of the classic Arcadia. Sometimes the prince and his sister led their young court into the depths of the adjacent forest in quest of sylvan sports, or to gather flowers and wild strawberries ; sometimes they are described as embark- ing on the calm waters of the Seine in their barge, which, if not very splendidly decorated, or of the most approved fashion, was large enough to accommodate a joyous jjarty. Pontalie, the haven to which the voyagers were usually bound, was a rural chateau on the Seine, within less than a league from the palace of our exiled queen : it was the resi- dence of the countess de Grammont, formerly one of the most celebrated of the beauties of Charles II.’s court. She was now a rich and prosperous lady, able and willing to contribute to the happiness of the exiled royal Stuarts in many ways, and anxious to prove that her affection for that family had augmented, instead of diminished, with the adversity which had distanced many of the creatures of the late king’s bounty. It was her delight to provide banquets and entertainments of all descriptions for the royal brother and sister, whom she had seen grow up from infants. She had obtained a lease or grant of the old mill-house of St. Germains and its adjacent meadows, and, for the sake, perhaps, of being near the English colony, she had exerted her taste and expended some of her wealth in turning it into a Grecian villa; her brother, Anthony Hamilton had changed its homely name, Moulin-eau, into the eu- phonious appellation of Pontalie, and there she frequently had the honour of receiving the exiles of St. Germains in the course of the summer.^ ‘ (Euvres du Count Antoine Hamilton. 252 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1707. The princely brother and sister, who, perhaps, were much happier in their free and natural way of life amidst the poverty and mockery of royalty at St. Germains, than if established in regal splendour at Windsor or Versailles, delighted in performing minor pilgrimages with their followers, to any of the churches or chapels within a walk of the palace. On these occasions they carried a light refection of fruit, cakes, and wine with them, and made their repast in some pleasant forest bower on their return.^ Count Hamilton writes to his friend Berwick, partly in prose and partly in untranslatable doggerel rhyme, a piquant description of one of these devotional pic-nic excursions, which was undertaken by the princess Louisa and her ladies of honour, matronized by the duchess of Berwick. “ Towards the centre of the forest,” he says, “ there is a little chapel, dedicated to St* Thibaut, and this St. Thibaut cures the ague : now there is a worthy man at St. Germains, named Dikesson, who had had several fits of it. You know our ladies are always charitable to their neighbours, so they all set off in company to recommend the invalid to monsieur St. Thibaut. The fair Hannette [the duchess of Berwick], as she knew the least about him, chose to beguile her pilgrimage by looking for strawberries by the way. 1 will tell you the names of some of these fair pilgrims who went with her royal highness to make intercessions for the lord Dikesson^ ^ This gentleman’s nam.e, which Mary Beatrice her- self does not always spell right, though he was one of her private secretaries and the comptroller of the household, was Dicconson, Count Hamilton tells his friend “ that the charming Miss Plowden was there, and those two divinities the ladies Dillon and Mareschal, but none was more agreeable than the duchess of Berwick, unless it were the princess ; and that they all went in procession, singing and saying every office in the ritual from early matins, for the sake of their amiable friend Dikesson. When they had performed all these charitable devotions, they sat down to take a sylvan repast, making the green grass their table ; but a French gentleman of the household, the chevalier de Salle, who had attended them, not out of devotion, but gallantry, was forbidden by the princess to join the circle, because he had not conducted himself with becoming piety on the occasion. Instead of allowing him to share in the repast, she ordered him, by way of penance, to go and kneel at the chapel-door, and offer up prayers for the recovery of Mr. Dicconson while they dined. The chevalier very humbly recommended himself to mercy, alleging in excuse that he had forgotten his breviary, and did not know a single prayer by heart ; so the princess, in consideration of his penitence, gave him something to eat, but made him sit at the foot of a tree, at a respectful distance from her and the rest of the pilgrims, and rinse all their glasses for them, while the forest glades rang with their laughter, for our fair devotees could laugh as heartily as pray on occasion. 1 (Euvres du Count Antoine Hamilton. Ibiu. 1707.J Frolic and fun at St. Germains. 253 In the midst of their mirth, the invalid, in whose behalf the pilgrimage to the shrine of St. Thibaut had been undertaken, and whom they had all forgotten, made his appearance unexpectedly before the festive circle. They greeted him with shouts of “ A miracle ! a miracle !” and de- manded of him the precise hour and minute when the fever left him ; and according to his account, it was, as, they all agreed, just as they had addressed the last prayer to St. Thibaut in his behalf. The repast did not conclude the more gravely on this account, nor was the homeward walk the less agreeable. The shepherds, shepherdesses, and woodcutters came to have a look at the courtly pilgrims, and admired their hilarity and good-humour.^ Sometimes the royal brother and sister, and their noble attendants, enacted the characters of shepherds and shepherdesses themselves, and never allowed the merry month of June to pass without having one day’s fete among the haymakers on the banks of the Seine— the princess and her stately governess, lady Middleton, always boasting that the haycock which they constructed was neater and more worthy of admiration than those raised by the duchess of Berwick and her compeers. Winter had its pleasures for the British exiles as well as summer. Mary Beatrice gave then her balls and receptions in the chateau, and the members of her court were always bidden to the Christmas and New-year festivities at Versailles. Hamilton gives a lively description of the Shrove-Tuesday masquerade at St. Germains, to which the whole town was admitted, the barriers being thrown open for that purpose by her majesty’s command, in order that high and low, young and old, English and French, might join in the carnival. Etiquette forbade the prince and princess from wearing masks, or assuming any particular characters, on these occasions ; yet they are described as dancing merrily in the midst of the motley throng — the jjrincess with peculiar grace and lightness, but both ex- celled in this accomplishment.^ Mary Beatrice forgot her calamities and her grief on these occasions, and smiled to see her children happy in spite of adverse fortune. CHAPTER X. The frolic and the fun that, in spite of care and penury, enlivened the exiled court of St. Germains, were suddenly sobered by a change in the politics of Versailles. After trifling with the exiled queen and her council, and above all with their faithful adherents in Scotland during the momentous crisis of the Union, when even the semblance of support from France would have been followed by a general rising in favour of 1 CEuvres du Count Antoine Hamilton. 2 Xbid. 254: Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1707. the son of James IT., Louis XIY. determined, in the spring of 1708, to fit out a fleet and armament for the purpose of effecting a descent on the coast of Scotland, headed by that prince in person. This expedition had been kept so secret, that neither Mary Beatrice nor her son was aware of what was intended, till the latter received a hasty summons to join the armament. The young prince tarried not for preparations, but bidding his mother and sister a hasty farewell, set out for Dunkirk, the place of embarkation, attended by only two or three of the officers of his- suite, leaving his baggage to follow. Unfortunate in everything, he had scarcely reached the coast when he was attacked with the measles. Everyone knows the nature of that malady, which requires the patient to be kept in a warm equal temperature till after the third day. The prince was of a consumptive constitution, and the weather very cold, for it was in March ; nevertheless, he would have embarked at all hazards, if his attendants would have allowed it. His impatience of the delay was almost as injurious to him, as the risk of striking in the eruption by exposure to cold would have been. Aware of the necessity of acting with energy and promptitude, he caused himself to be carried on board the French fleet, before prudence warranted him in quitting his chamber. The wind had, meantime, changed ; foul weather ensued, and it was not till after several ominous mischances, and some personal peril to the royal adventurer, that the armament succeeded in getting out to sea ; and by that time, the English fleet, under the command of Sir George Byng, had sailed, and was on the look-out.^ The feelings of the royal mother during that anxious period of sus- pense will be best described by herself, in a letter to one of her Ange- liques. After detailing the symptoms of a fit of illness, brought on by her distress at parting with her son, she says : “ I must take patience in this, as in many other things which disquiet me at present, and keep me in a state of great agitation ; for I know nothing certain of my son, as you will see by the copy of the newspaper they shall send you. My only consolation is the thought that he is in the hands of God, and in the place where he ought to be ; and I hope God, in his mercy, will have a care of him. Cease not to pray, my dear mother, for him and for me, for our wants are extreme, and there is no one but God who can or will support us. I am, in spirit, with you all, although my mind is in such agitation that I cannot remain long in a place ; but my heart will always be with you and my dear mother Briolo, who, I am sure, suffer with me and for me.” ^ The princess Louisa, who was passionately attached to her brother, and earnestly desired to see him established in the regal dignity which she regarded as his right, fully shared her mother’s anxiety on this 1 St. Simon. .x>ntinuator of Mackintosh. Calamy. 2 Autograph letters of Mary Beatrice; Chaillot collection. 255 170S. I TJie favourable crisis lost, occasion. As soon as the queen was able to bear the journey, they both proceeded to Chaillot, fondly imagining that the prayers which they and their ladies were incessantly preferring to God for his personal safety and success, would be more efficacious if offered up in the tribune of the conventual church there, where the hearts of queen Henrietta Maria and king James were enshrined. ^ The all-powerful affection of Mary Beatrice for her deceased husband persuaded her that his spirit, which she firmly believed to be in a state of beatitude, always united with her in prayers to God for the attainment of any object of peculiar interest to both. The day the queen and her daughter arrived at Chaillot, it was con- fidently reported in Paris that the prince had succeeded in effecting a descent on the coast of Scotland, and had been well received. The next morning, Mary Beatrice told the nuns she had dreamed that a little old woman came and said to her, “No; he will not land this time.”^ Now, although it was evident that the queen’s nerves were unbraced by sickness, anxiety, fasting, and prayer, the vision of the oracular little old woman made a great impression, both on the community and her ladies, and they all began to relate stories of signs and omens. “ I can remember well,” said the princess Louisa, “ though I was not quite four years old at the time, that when the late king, my father, left St. Ger- mains to join the armament at Calais, expecting to embark for England, I dreamed that I saw him return in a blue cloak, instead of the scarlet coat he wore when he went away, and that he said to me, ‘ This place must be my England.’ ” ^ It was not the first time that the dream of the youngest daughter of James IL had been related in that circle ; for even in her infancy it had been recorded as a solemn revelation, that the exiled king was to behold his native land no more, but to end his days at St. Germains. To imagine anything of the kind an augury, is almost to insure its fulfilment. James II. allowed more than one good oppor- tunity for effecting a landing in England in the absence of the rival sovereign to slip, from the idea that a decree had gone forth against his restoration. The dream of Mary Beatrice had, in a manner, prepared the ladies of her court for the news of the failure of the expedition. The cause of its failure remains to this day among the unexplained mysteries of history. It is true, that in consequence of the fatal three days’ detention of the prince before the turn of his malady permitted him to embark, the wind, which had been previously fair, changed ; that Fourbin, the French admiral, was out of temper, and could not be prevailed to leave the port till the 6 th of March, and then encountered a heavy storm. Meantime, the English fieet under Sir George Byng got out to sea, gave chase, and took the Salisbury man-of-war, an English vessel belonging to Fourbin’s * Memorials of Mary Beatrice d’Este, archives of France. 2 ibid. 3 ibid. 256 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1708. fleet. Byng was greatly superior in force.^ Fourbin entered the Frith of Forth just below Edinburgh. It has been affirmed by some, that the prince vainly implored to be permitted to land with the troops provided for that purpose by the king of France, or even accompanied only by the gentlemen of his suite, so sure did he feel that he should receive an honourable reception ; but nothing could prevail on Fourbin to permit it.2 Others have said that the prince was actually captured in the Salisbury, and that Byng preserved his royal mistress, queen Anne, from a most painful and perplexing dilemma, by sending him privately on board Fourbin’s ship, having taken his word of honour that he would return to France without attempting to land.^ If this romantic tale be founded on fact, Byng acted with consummate wisdom in ridding the queen of an invasion at the easy rate of releasing a prisoner, whom she could scarcely have ventured to proceed against according to the severity of the law. There was a prodigious run on the bank of England at this crisis, and some danger of cash payments being suspended, national credit being at a low ebb.^ A letter from Mary Beatrice to her friend the abbess of Chaillot, apparently written the day after the arrival of her son at St. Germains, betrays the harassing state of affairs in her little court, where every one was charging the disappointment on some inimical person or other. “ The desolation of my soul,” she says, “ would excite your pity, if you could look into its depths. My heart is also much broken, and I have had, for these ten days past, business and domestic quarrels that have disquieted and vexed me to a degree of which I am ashamed ; and I declare to you, that coming so immediately on the rest of my troubles, 1 have been completely overwhelmed with it all. Pray God, my dearest 1 Maepherson. French State Papers. 2 Maepherson. 3 Calamy’s Life and Notes. 4 The landing of the son of Janies II., at this juncture, was eagerly expected by the Jacobite aristocracy on the banks of the Forth. James Stirling, esq., laird of Keir, Archibald Seaton, esq., laird of Touch, and other territorial chiefs in that neighbourhood, had armed themselves, their tenants and ser- vants, and marched in a body from Keir to the bridge of Turk, where they had a rendez- vous with their highland friends, and laid their plans for the general rising that w^as to take place the moment it should be pro- claimed that the royal Stuart had set foot on Scottish ground. The laird of Keir and his neighbours determined to set an example of fearless devotion to the cause, by being the first to join him ; they marched up and down the counties of Stirling and Perth in expectation of the descent, till the news reached them that Sir George Byng liad driven the French fieet off the coast. Keir and the ringleaders of this levy were after- wards arrested, and thrown into the Tolbooth. They were indicted at Edinburgh on the 28th of the following November, “on the charge of having convo-cated themselves and appeared in arms to levy war against her majesty, at the time when an invasion of Scotland was threatened; and in addition to this offence, they had also publicly drunk the good health of ‘their master,’ as they called him, who could be no other than the Pretender.” The laird of Keir defended himself and his friends with great courage and ability. He said “ that the gentlemen and himself were fiiends and kinsmen, and had met peaceably to enjoy their own diversions ; that they had neither hired nor paid men for seditious purposes; and as for drinking to their master’s good health, he defied them to make that out to be an act of high treason — first, because there was no law against drinking any person’s good health; and, secondly, no name had been mentioned, therefore that the Pretender was meant could only be a conjecture.” — State Trials, voi. vi. They were unanimously acquitted by the jury. 1708 .] Prince styles himself the chevalier de St. George. 257 mother, to succour and support me, and to increase my strength, for never have I had greater need, and never have I appeared so feeble. I dare not tell you that I have not yet been with my son. I know it is a great fault, but these last affairs have scarcely left me time for my prayers ; and although during the octave of the holy sacrament I have tried to go oftener to church (God knows with what distraction of mind !), I have missed the first procession and the journey to Versailles. I shall go to Marli to-morrow. I was on Friday at the review ; my son was there, and many of the English, who were, as it was said, well pleased with him. My God, what a world this is, and who can under- stand it ! For my part, the more I know of it, the less I comprehend it : unhappy are they who have much to do with it ! My son had arrived before me on my return from Chaillot.” ^ This appears to have been the reason she had missed seeing him, as he had been compelled to show himself at the review, where, it should seem, he had been very well received, notwithstanding the failure of the late expedition. The queen concludes her letter in these words : — “ Madame de Main tenon was here nearly two hours yesterday. Lady Bulkeley makes me pity her, although she does not know the unhappy manner of her husband’s death.” This sentence implies some tragedy connected with the fate of the gallant colonel Bulkeley, which the queen had learned, but had not courage to communicate to her faithful attendant, lady Sophia Bulkeley .2 Several persons of high rank in the British emigration had been cap- tured in the Salisbury ; among the rest, the two sons of the earl of Middleton, lord Clermont, and Mr. Middleton, and the old attached servant of king James, lord Griffin. Mary Beatrice was greatly afflicted when she learned that they were all committed close prisoners to the Tower, to take their trials for high treason. She wrote, with her own hand, an earnest letter to the French minister, Chamillard, begging him to claim them as officers in the service of his royal master, and exerted her influence in every possible way for their preservation.^ Simul- taneously with these events, queen Anne’s cabinet proceeded to set a price on her brother’s head.* Anne, herself, who had hitherto styled him “ the pretended prince of Wales,” now gave him a new name in her address to parliament, calling him, for the first time, “ the Pre- tender” — a cunningly-devised sobriquet, which, perhaps, did more to exclude him from the throne than even his unpopular religion. T^ie young prince served in the French army in the Low Countries the same spring as a volunteer, under the appropriate title of the chevalier de St. George ; for, being destitute of the means of providing a camp equi- page, and maintaining the state consistent with royalty, he claimed no * Autograph letter of Mary Beatrice, in the archives of France. 2 3 Stuart Fapers. < Burnet. VOL. V. S 258 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ 1708 . higher distinction than the companionship of the national order, with which he had been invested in his fourth year by the late sovereign his father. He conducted himself during the campaign so as to win the affection and esteem of his comrades, and especially of his commander, the duke,de Yenddme.^ While her son was with the army, Mary Beatrice was, of course, deeply interested in all the military operations, of which he sent her a regular account. In one of her letters to the abbess of Chaillot, dated at St. Germains, the 23rd of June, the fond mother says : — ‘‘ My chevalier is in perfect health, thank God, and I am better than ! I have been for a long time We have some hopes of obtaining the liberty of the two Middletons, and of the other Irish prisoners ; but for my lord Griffin, they have condemned him to die on the 27th of this month, which causes me pain. I recommend him to your prayers, and to those of our dear sisters.” ^ The chevalier St. George had the ill luck to be present with his royal French cousins. Burgundy and Berry, at the battle of Oudenarde, a witness of the superior military genius of his secret correspondent, the duke of Marlborough. His more fortunate rival, the electoral prince of Hanover, afterwards George II., distinguished himself on the winning side. The chevalier caught the malignant intermittent fever of the country at Mons, and returned, greatly enfeebled, for change of air to St. Germains towards the close of the summer. It was a wet, cold autumn, severe winter, and ungenial spring; the queen was ill, anxious, and unhappy, on account of her son, for the fever hung upon him for many months ; yet he was firm in his determination to try his fortunes in another campaign. On the 11th of April, 1709, Mary Beatrice writes to the abbess of Chaillot to excuse herself from passing the holy week with her friends there, the physicians having forbidden her to change her abode that month, unless the weather altered very much for the better ; she adds : — ‘‘ If the war continues, as is supposed, the king my son will be very shortly on the point of leaving me for the army. It is not right, there- fore, that I should quit him, more especially as he is not yet wholly recovered from his fever, for he had a little touch of it again yesterday, though he perseveres in taking the bark five times a day.” The late defeat at Oudenarde, the loss of Lisle, the distress caused by the visitation of a famine, and above all, the deficiency in the revenues of his kingdom, rendered Louis XIY. not only willing, but anxious to listen to overtures of peace.® Instead of the armies taking the field, plenipotentiaries were despatched to meet the victorious Marlborough > St. Simon. ^ Autograph letter of the queen of James II., in the Chaillot collection. * Macpherson. Torcy’s IVlemoirs- 259 1709.] Chevalier implores aid from Louis XIV, aad Eugene at the Hague, to settle preliminaries for an amicable treaty. Mary Beatrice was well aware that no peace would or could be concluded, unless Louis XIV. withdrew his protection from her son. The prince was eager to prevent the mortification of a dismissal from the French dominions, by trying his fortunes in Scotland.^ He had received fresh invitations and assurances of support from the highland chiefs ; the representations of his secret agents as to his prospects were encouraging enough to induce him to declare that he would come, if he were reduced to the necessity of performing the voyage in a hired vessel. When he threw himself at the feet of Louis XIV. and implored his aid, that monarch told him plainly, “ that situated as he then was, he had enough to do to defend his own dominions, without thinking of anything so chimerical as invading those of the victorious queen of Great Britain.” The ardour of the youthful adventurer was moreover checked by a sig- nificant hint, that if he attempted to embroil his present protector further with queen Anne, by stealing over to Scotland and exciting an insurrec- tion there, his royal mother would instantly be deprived of her present shelter, and that her pension, which formed the sole provision for the support of herself, her daughter, and the faithful followers who had sacrificed everything to their adherence to the ruined cause of the house of Stuart, would be stopped. It is a remarkable fact, that when Torcy mentioned the son of James II. to Marlborough, the latter evinced a warmth of feeling towards the exiled prince scarcely consistent with liis professions to the electoral house of Hanover. He called him “ the prince of Wales,” and expressed an ardent desire of serving him, and that a suitable income should be secured to him. Nor was he unmindful of the claims of Mary Beatrice ; he recommended Torcy to renew the demand of her dower. “ Insist strenuously on that article to the viscount Townshend,” said he ; “ that lord is a sort of inspector over my conduct. He is an honest man, but a whig. I must speak like an obstinate Englishman in his presence.” ^ Marlborough was still more explicit in his conferences with his nephew Berwick, who, being an illegitimate brother of the prince, formed a curious link of connection between the great captain of the age and the rejected heir of England. Undoubtedly Marlborough gave wise counsel, when he bade the duke of Berwick entreat the prince to emancipate himself from the political thraldom of France, by offering to disembarrass Louis XIV. of his presence as a preliminary to the negotiations for peace. He clearly demonstrated that no good could ever result from a connection so offensive to the national pride of England, for the people over whom he desired to rule would never submit to the imposition of a sovereign from France. “He hoped,” he said, “by extricating the ' Macpherson. 2 Memoires de Torcy. Macphersou’s Siuart Papers. CoDtiiiuator of Mackintosh. S 2 260 Mary Beatrice of Modena. I_i709. prince in the first place from the influence of France, and by prudent arrangement, to see all parties uniting to recognise him as the successor to his sister’s throne.” ^ Neither the prince nor Berwick felt sufficient confidence in the integrity of Marlborough to take his advice. Men can only judge of intentions by past deeds. They called to mind his treachery to their royal father, and suspected that the zeal with which he urged the court of St. Germains to press for the payment of the queen-mother’s dower, was for the purpose of beguiling the prince into bartering his pretensions to a diadem for a pension, and at the same time depriving him of the support of his only friend and protector, Louis XIY. The pacific negotiations at the Hague proving fruitless, the conferences were broken up, and hostilities were renewed. The chevalier having recovered his health, set out for the French head-quarters, leaving his royal mother to struggle with pecuniary difficulties, which neither wisdom could foresee nor prudence prevent.* All hope of receiving her income as queen-dowager of England was of course suspended, and the pittance she received from the French government was now un punctually paid, and subjected to curtailment on various pretences. The first attempt on the part of the officers of the French exchequer to extort a percentage from her treasurer, Mr. Dicconson, for paying her pension in ready money, was resisted by Mary Beatrice with some spirit, as an impo- sition and abuse of office, “ which,” she said, “ she was sure would be displeasing to the king of France.” They kept her then in arrear, and offered to pay in bills, on which she was compelled to allow as much for discount as the official thieves had demanded of her in the first instance.^ She mentioned the circumstance to madame de Maintenon, but that lady, who had herself been an underling at court, and accustomed to perquisites and privileges, made light of it, and advised her majesty not to incur the ill-will of the financial corps by complaining to the king, who was greatly inconvenienced himself by the deficiency in his revenue. Bitterly did the royal dependant feel the humiliations and privations to which the wrongs of fortune had subjected her and her children, and vainly did she endeavour, by increasing self-denial and the most rigid economy in her personal expenditure, to spare more for the destitute families who had abandoned houses and broad lands in England for her husband’s sake. The pecuniary difficulties of the fallen queen were embittered, about this period, by a mortification from a quarter whence she least expected it. When at Chaillot, her daughter was accustomed to sleep in a chamber that opened into her own — an arrangement which their near relationship and tender affection rendered agreeable to both ; but the 1 Maepherson’s Stuart Papers. Correspon- 2 ms. Memorials of Mary Beatrice of deuce quoted by the Continuator of Mackin- Modena, in the hotel de Soubise. tosh’s Reign of Queen Anne. 3 ibid. 1709.] In arrears for rent at Chaillot. 261 queen being deeply in arrears to the convent for the rent of the suite of rooms she occupied, the abbess, feeling more disposed to consider the benefit of the community than the comfort of their royal friends, hinted, “ that having a tenant for the apartment adjoining her majesty’s bed- room, it would be desirable to remove her royal highness the princess of England to an upper story.” Mary Beatrice did not attempt to dissemble the fact that the change would be both unpleasant and inconvenient to her, and was greatly hurt, a few months later, on finding that the room was actually let to madame de I’Orge, a lady of high rank, and her daughter, and that they had made sundry alterations, furnished, and taken possession of it. When, however, those ladies learned, from a letter written by lady Sophia Bulkeley to the abbess, how greatly the queen and princess would be inconvenienced by their occupation of this apartment, they said “ her majesty should be welcome to the use of it when she came to Chaillot with the princess.” ^ The high spirit of Mary Beatrice revolted at this proposal, yet she wrote, with great mildness and temper, to the abbess on the subject : — “ After having desired lady Bulkeley to write to you, my dear mother, touching the chamber where my daughter lodges at Chaillot, I have remembered me, that when last year you proposed to me to change my daughter’s apartment and to put her higher, I found that it would be very difficult to arrange it, as my ladies would have much trouble to accommodate themselves in places which are now occupied by their waiting-maids, especially for any length of time, and that my daughter herself would not be so well above, nor would it be so convenient for me, as at present I have no other chamber below besides that in which she lodges. However, if you, my dear mother, or madame and mademoi- selle de rOrge, have any trouble about this apartment, I pray you to tell me so plainly, with your usual sincerity, and I will endeavour to make some other arrangement, at least if it be in our power. You can, if you please, consult my dear sisters Catharine and Angelique and M. Gabrielle about it, and then take your resolution, and send me word ; for in case my daughter can continue where she is, I should wish them to take away the furniture of madame and mademoiselle de I’Orge, and I would send mine. I also beg you to have the window put to rights, and the other things that are required in the little lodging, and send me the bill of what they come to, as that is only just. I cannot accept the offer madame de I’Orge makes me of the loan of her chamber ; I say this, in case she wishes to take it away from me.” ^ The apartment was relinquished by the intruding tenant; it was, indeed, the dressing-room to her majesty’s chamber, which no stranger * Memorials of Mary Beatrice of Modena, in the hotel de Soubise ; Chaillot collection, hotel de Soubise. This letter is only dated May 1. *^lnedited letters of queen Mary Beatrice, 262 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [ 1709 . could with any propriety have wished to occupy, and the attempt to deprive her of it served very painfully to remind the royal exiles of their adverse fortunes. The princess Louisa felt every slight that was offered to her mother or brother far more keenly than they did. Sometimes she said, “We are reduced to such pitiable straits, and live in so humble a way, that even if it were the will of Heaven to restore us to our natural rank, we should not know how to play our parts with becoming dignity.” The defeat of the French army at Malplaquet, on the 11 th of Septem- ber, 1709, increased the general gloom which prevaded all ranks in that nation, while it rendered the position of the court of St. Germains more painful and precarious. Yet the desolate heart of Mary Beatrice swelled with maternal pride in the midst of her solicitude, for her son had dis- tinguished himself by a brilliant personal action in that fiercely con- tested fight, which had nearly turned the fortunes of the day. After marechal Villars was carried dangerously wounded out of the field, Bouflers sustained the conflict ; and when the cavalry of the allies broke into his lines, he ordered the chevalier de St. George to advance at the head of 1200 of the horse-guards. The princely volunteer performed his duty so gallantly, that in one desperate charge the German horse were broken and repulsed, and nothing but the steady valour of the English troops, and the consummate skill of their commanders, prevented the rout from becoming general.^ The rejected claimant of the British crown did not disgrace his lineage on that occasion, though unhappily serving under the banner of the fleur-de-lis, and opposed to his own countrymen. He charged twelve times at the head of the household troops of France, and though wounded in the right arm by a sabre cut, he kept the ground manfully, under a continuous Are of six hours from the British infantry .2 Bouflers, in his despatch to his own sovereign, detailing the loss of the battle, renders the following brief testimony to the gallantry of the royal volunteer. “ The chevalier de St. George behaved himself during the whole action with the utmost valour and vivacity.” The queen, who had been residing for many weeks in com- plete retirement with her daughter at Chaillot, came to welcome her son on his return to St. Germains, where they kept their united court, if such it might be called, that winter. The following melancholy letter, without date, was probably written by Mary Beatrice towards the spring, when depressed by sickness and care, and harassed with business which, as she pathetically observes, was never of an agreeable kind : — “ At last I find a moment to write to you, my dear mother, and to ask tidings of your health, for which I am in pain, for M. Gaillar told * Macpherson. Jesse. Lediard’s Life of the Duke of Marlborough. Despatches of j^Iareschal Bouflers. 2 jbi(L 1709.] Faithful vice-chamherlain paralyzed. 263 me that it was not too good. Be careful of it, for the love of Heaven, my dear mother, for I have need of you, as you know. Alas ! there are none left to me now but you and father Kuga on earth, in whom I can have an entire confidence. “I have read the homily on Providence, which is consolatory. I cannot say, however, that I have found consolation in that or anything else. God is the master, and his holy will be done. I am not ill, but I sleep badly since I quitted you, and I am worse after the bath, which I cannot understand ; but I have omitted it for the last fortnight, and take the powders and the waters of St. Kemi. The king my son has had a cold, but I hope it will not increase : he does not keep his room. ^ My daughter bathes twice a week. She is, however, very well : it has refreshed her. I cannot tell you more for want of time, save to charge you with my regards.” ^ After various kind messages to the sisters of Chaillot, she mentions, with great concern, the sudden illness which had seized one of the most faithful and valued members of her household ; — “ Mr. Strickland has been attacked with paralysis : he has great trouble to speak. His wife is in despair. They will send him to Bourbon. I am grieved about it, and shall be very sorry to lose him, for he is an ancient servant, and very affectionate. I recommend him to your prayers.” ^ Keminiscences of her former greatness must have been associated in the mind of the fallen queen with her recollection of the services of the faithful adherent, whose illness she mentions with such compassionate feeling and regret. Eobert Strickland was her vice-chamberlain ; he was appointed to that office on the accession of the late king her husband to the throne of Great Britain, and he had walked at the head of her pro- cession at the splendid ceremonial of her coronation.^ What melancholy reverses had since then clouded the horizon of her who was the leading star of that glorious pageant ! Alas ! for the instability of human pomp and power, and worse, far worse, the deceitfulness of fair-day friends ! Of all the courtly train who had contended for the honour of performing services for their young and beautiful queen that day — the gay and gallant Dorset, the magnificent Devonshire, the specious Halifax, the astute Manchester, and the enamoured Godolphin, the bearers of her i-egalia — who of all these had been willing to follow her in exile and in sorrow ? Were not those men the first to betray their too confiding sovereign, and to transfer their worthless homage to the adversary ? Well might the luckless queen prize the manly and true-hearted northern squire who had adhered to her fallen fortunes with unswerving loyalty, and having served her as reverently in her poverty and affliction as when 1 Autograph letter of Mary Beatrice, in the archives of France. 2 Ibid. 3 Saiidford’s Book of the Coronation of James IL 264 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ 1710 . he waited upon her in the regal palace of Whitehall, was now for her sake dying in a land of strangers, far from his home — who can wonder at her lamenting the loss of such a servant ? Another of the queen’s letters, apparently written in the spring of 1710, when her beloved friend, Fran^oise Angelique, and several of the sisters of Chaillot were dangerously ill of an infectious fever, is in reply to a request from the abbess that she would defer her visit to the convent for fear of exposing herself to the contagion, and bespeaks a generous warmth of feeling and freedom from all selfish fears only to be found in persons of piety and moral worth. It is altogether a unique royal “ St. Germains, the 14th of May. “ Your last letter, my dear mother, has caused me great pain, by the sad account that you give me of the state of several of our dear sisters, but above all, that of my dear mother Priolo, of which I could much wish to inform myself ; and if I had not intended to go to Chaillot for the Roga- tion, I should have been there yesterday or to-day, expressly for that purpose. I should be glad, also, to see my poor little portress ; and I cannot see any reason, among all you have mentioned, why I should not come. You know that I have no fear but of colds, and I cannot perceive any cause to apprehend infection with you. So then, with your permis- sion, my dear mother, I shall reckon to be with you on Monday evening about seven o’clock, and I entreat you to send me tidings of our invalids this evening. The drowsiness of my sister, F. A. [Frangoise Angelique], does not please me. I am very glad you have made her leave off the viper hrothy which is too heating for her, I hope the sickness of my sister Louise Henriette will not be unto death. I have prayed much for you all. As for your temporal business, I saw M. de M. [Maintenon] this day week, and she said nothing to me about it, nor has she written of it since. I fear this is not a good sign. I send her letter. I know not whether you have read those of M. d’Autun to me, which you might have done, as they had only a flying seal. If you have, you will be convinced that our good mother of Annessey has engaged me very unluckily in the affair of that priest whom she called a saint, and who, it appears, was very far from meriting that name. I have made my ex- cuses to M. d’Autun, and will write to him between this and Monday. “We are all well here, thank God ! I could wish to find all well, or at least better, with you. My daughter must not come, but for me there is nothing to fear. Adieu, my dear mother ! I am yours with all my heart, and I embrace my dear mother Priolo.” ^ On the 16th of May, her son, the chevalier de St. George, left her to serve his third campaign in the Low Countries, under marshal Villars, with whom he formed an intimate friendship. The duke of Berwick 1 Aatograph letter of Mary Beatrice ; Chaillot MS. 265 1710 .] Tlie chevalier de St, George, was one of the commanders in the French army, and was the medium of a close political correspondence between his uncle Marlborough and Mary Beatrice. The victorious general of the British army was in disgrace with his sovereign, queen Anne; his son-in-law, Sunderland, had lost his place in her cabinet ; his colleague, Godolphin, had been compelled to resign,^ and nothing but the influence of the allies kept himself in his command of the forces. While the hostile armies were encamped on the banks of the Scarpe, there was a great deal of political coquetry going on between some of the English officers of Marlborough’s staff and the personal retinue of the chevalier St. George, who, at the request of the former, showed himself on horseback, on the opposite side of the narrow stream, to a party who had expressed an ardent desire to see him. Medals, bearing the impression of his bust and superscription, were eagerly accepted by many of those who, though they had taken the oath of abjuration, could not refrain from regarding the representative of their ancient monarchs with feelings inconsistent with their duty to the constitutional sovereign. Marlborough’s master of the horse, Mr. Pitt, was the recipient of several of these medals, which Charles Booth, one of the chevalier’s grooms of the bedchamber, had the boldness to send by the trumpet. Medals were also addressed to several of the general officers, each being enclosed in a paper, on which was written : “ The metal is good, for it bore six hours’ fire ; you know it was hot, for your- selves blew the coals.” This observation was in allusion to the gallant conduct of the exiled prince at Malplaquet, and was rendered more intelligible by the following postscript : “ You know it was well tried on the 11th of September, 1709.”^ Marlborough winked at all these petty treasons, apparently not dis- pleased at seeing the son of his old master making the most of his proximity to the British army. Mary Beatrice, in reply to a communi- cation which Marlborough made to her through his nephew, Berwick, confiding to her his intention of resigning his places under queen Anne, wrote a very remarkable letter to him, which marshal Villars himself enclosed in one of his own military notes to the British commander, written, in all probability, merely to furnish an excuse for sending a trumpet to the hostile camp for the purpose of delivering it to his double- dealing grace, to whom it was addressed under the name of Gurney, one of the numerous aliases by which he is designated in the Jacobite corre- spondence. Her majesty speaks of her son also by the sobriquet of * One of Godolphin’s letters to the exiled from queen Anne the publication of a general queen, or her minister, had, some time pre- pardon, in which an indemnity for all persons viously, fallen into the hands of his great who had been guilty of a treasonable corre- enemy, lord Wharton, who had used the spondence with the court of St. Germains was power it gave him to obtain many things particularly specified. — Macpherson’s Jour- very much opposed to the interest of that nals of the Lords. Dartmouth’s Notes on party. As a measure of self-preservation, Burnet. Godolphin and Marlborough had obtained 2 Stuart Papers, in Macpherson. 266 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ 1710 . Mr. Mathews. She informs Marlborough, “ that what he wrote to his nephew on the 13th of the last month, June, 1710, was of such great importance to her son, as well as to himself, that she thinks herself obliged to answer it with her own hand,” then continues in these words : — “ I shall tell you, in the first place, that as I was glad to find you still continue in your good resolutions towards Mr. Mathews [her son], I was surprised, on the other hand, to see you had a design of quitting every- thing as soon as the peace was concluded ; for I find that to be the only means of rendering you useless to your friends, and your retreat may prove dangerous to yourself. You are too large a mark, and too much exposed, for malice to miss ; and your enemies will never believe them- selves in safety till they have ruined you.” ^ There is something very amusing in the pointed manner in which the widow of James II. endeavours to persuade her correspondent, that not only his revenge, but his self-interest ought to bind him to the cause of her son. No barrister could have argued the case with greater ingenuity than she does in her quiet lady-like logic. She says : — “ But as you are lost if you quit your employments, I see likewise, on the other hand, that it will be difficult for you to keep yourself in office as things are now situated, so that your interest itself now declares for your honour. You cannot be in safety without discharging your duty, and the time is precious to you as well as to us.” In the next paragraph, the royal writer replies, with equal dignity and diplomacy, to some observation in Marlborough’s letter relating to Mrs. Masham, the successful rival who had supplanted his duchess in his sovereign’s regard ; — “ The advice you give us in sending us to the new favourite is very obliging ; but what can we hope from a stranger, who has no obligation to us ? Whereas we have all the reasons in the world to depend upon you, since we have now but the same interest to manage, and you have the power to put Mr. Mathews [her son] in a condition to protect you. Lay aside, then, I beseech you, your resolution of retiring. Take courage, and, without losing more time, send us a person in whom you can have an entire confidence ; or if you haVe not such a man with yon, allow us to send you one, whom we may trust, in order to concert matters for our common interest, which can never be properly done by letters. We shall know, by your speedy and positive answer to this letter, what judgment we can form of our affairs.” ^ Matters hung on a perilous balance for the Protestant succession when 1 Letter of Mary Beatrice to the duke of Marlborough, printed in Macpherson’s docu- Marll)oroudi, in Macpherson’s transcripts ments from Naime’s collection in the Scotch from Nairne’s Stuart Papers. college. 2 Letter of Mary Beatrice to the duke of 1710 .] Marlborough^ s double dealings, 267 a correspondence, of which this letter is a sample, was going on between the mother of the chevalier de St. George and the commander of the British army, of which the said chevalier himself was within a morning’s ride. Perhaps, if the duchess of Marlborough, with her vindictive passions and governing energies, had been in the camp of the allies, the game that was played by Marlborough in 1688 at Salisbury, might have been counteracted by a more astounding change of colours on the banks of the Scarpe in 1710. Ninety thousand a year was, however, too much to be hazarded by a man, whose great object in life was to acquire wealth ; and, having acquired, to keep it. He took the wiser part, that of trimming, in readiness to sail with any wind that might spring up, but waited to see in which direction the tide of fortune would flow. It is to be observed, withal, that Mary Beatrice neither makes professions in her letter, nor holds out any prospect of reward. “ I must not finish my letter,” she says, in conclusion, “ without thanking you for promis- ing to assist me in my suit at the treaty of peace,” meaning the payment of her jointure and arrears, for which Marlborough had always been an advocate under the rose, for he took good care not to commit himself by a public avowal of his sentiments on that head. “ My cause,” continues the royal widow, meekly, “is so just, that I have all reason to hope I shall gain it; at least, I flatter myself that Mr, Mathew’s sister [queen Anne] is of too good a disposition to oppose it.”^ The pretence made by Anne or her ministers for withholding the provi- sion guaranteed by parliament for her father’s widow, that the fund voted to king William for that purpose had been applied, since his death, to other uses, could scarcely be regarded as a legal excuse, especially since the death of the other queen-dowager, Catharine of Braganza, had placed her appanage and income at the disposal of the crown ; and this Mary Beatrice, in her bitter penury, would gladly have accepted in lieu of her own. Marlborough’s correspondence is thus alluded to by the chevalier de St. George, in one of his droll letters to the earl of Middleton, dated Arras, July 25, 1710 : — “ 1 shall not write to the queen to-day, having nothing to say to her more than what is done. Present my duty to her I have at last quite done with physic, and 1 hope with my ague, and that with only ten doses of quinquina; but I shall still keep possession of my gatehouse till the army removes, which must be soon. Our Hector [Yillars] doth talk of fighting in his chariot, but I don’t believe him, especially now that the conferences of peace are certainly renewed You will have seen, before this, Gurney’s [Marlborough’s] letter to Daniel [Berwick], and another to Hector, in which Follette’s [queen ^ Letter of Mary Beatrice to the duke of ments from Nairne’s collection in the Scotch Marlbi^rough, printed in Maepherson’s docu- college. 268 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [i/io, Mary Beatrice’s] children [himself and the princess his sister] are men- tioned. I find Hector very willing to do anything in his power for him.” ^ The rest of the letter is very lively and amusing, hut chiefly relating to a masked hall, at which he had been present. In his next he says : “ I was surprised to find by my sister’s letter of the 30th, that the queen had been ill at Marli, but am mighty glad it is so well over. Present her my duty.” Mary Beatrice and her daughter wrote very frequently to the chevalier de St. George during his absence with the army. Their letters, if pre- served, would be of no common interest, endearing and confidential as the style of both these royal ladies was, considering, too, the romantic position occupied by the prince. As for him, he was just two-and- twenty, and writes with all the gaiety of his uncle, Charles II., at the same age.^ “ I gave the mar^schal,” he says, “ this day the queen’s packet [con- taining her letter to Marlborough], which I reckon gone by this time. Though Follette has said nothing of her children, yet Hector has again writ about them. I could not put off his writing about them till I heard from you, because he had now no other pretence, as I thought he had. Pray send me back Gurney’s [Marlborough’s] letter to him [Villars], for he wants the name of the colonel that is in it.” Mary Beatrice, meantime, to spare herself the painful attempt at keeping up the shadowy imitation of a royal court, had withdrawn with her daughter, the princess Louisa, to her apartments in the convent of Chaillot, where they lived in the deepest retirement. Her majesty occasionally paid flying visits to St. Germains, for the purpose of holding councils and transacting business ; but her ministers, generally, came to wait on her at the convent. The manner in which the royal widow passed her time when on a visit to the convent of Chaillot, is thus detailed by one of the ecclesiastics attached to that foundation : “ At eight o’clock she rises, having pre- viously read the epistle and gospel for the day after the morrow, with great attention, and after that some of the circular-letters of the convent, containing the records of departed sisters of the order, of distinguished piety. She possesses,” continues our author, “ a perfect knowledge of the blessed Scriptures, as well as the writings of our holy founder ; so that she is able to cite the finest passages on occasion, which she always does so much to the purpose, that one knows not which to admire most, the eloquence of her words, or the aptness of her wit. She knows Latin, ' Letter of Mary Beatrice to the duke of * See his playful letter to the earl of Marlborough, printed in Macpherson’s docu- Middleton, from the camp at Arlien, dated ments from Kairne’s collection in the Scotch June 2, in Macpherson's Stuart Papers, vol. college. ii. p. 152, octavo edition. 1710.J Queen's daily routine at CliailloL 269 French, Italian, and English, and will talk consecutively in each of these languages, without mixing them, or making the slightest mistake. But that which is the most worthy of observation in this princess, is the admirable charity and moderation with which she speaks of every one. Of her enemies she would rather not speak — following the precept of our holy founder, ‘that when nothing good can be said, it is best to say nothing.’ She has never used one w’ord of complaint or invective of any of them, neither has she betrayed impatience of their prosperity, or joy at their sufferings. She said little of them, and recommended those about her to imitate her example ; yet she assured us that she had no difficulty in forgiving them, but rather pleasure. If she heard either good or evil news, she recognised the hand of God in both alike, often repeating the words of the holy Psalmist — I was silent, and opened not iny mouth, for it is thou. Lord, that hast done it.” ‘ From the same authority we learn, that on leaving her chamber the queen always entered her oratory, where she spent an hour in her private devotions ; she afterwards attended the public services of the church, then returned to dress for the day. She either dined in her own chamber, or in the refectory with the community, where she seated her- self in the midst of the sisters, near the abbess. Her ladies occupied a table by themselves ; she was always served by two of the nuns. At ten o’clock, one of the sisters read to her, for half an hour, from the Imitation of Jesus Christ, by Thomas h Kempis, or some good book on the love of God. She observed all the regulations of the convent when with the community, and read, listened, meditated, or worked with them, as if she had belonged to the order. If there were any sick persons in the infirmary, she always visited them in the course of the day. During her retreats to Chaillot, she received visits from the dauphin, dauphiness, and almost all the princesses of the blood. She once assisted at the profession of a novice, whom she led by the hand to the altar to receive the veil, and bestowed upon her her own name, Marie Beatrice.^ The reverence, modesty, and profound silence which she observed at church were very edifying. If they brought to her letters from her son, she never opened them in that holy place, or with- drew till the service was concluded, when she retired into the sacristy and read them there, as she had formerly done with regard to those from the king, her late royal husband Motives of economy had, doubtless, as much to do with these retreats of the exiled queen to the convent of Chaillot as devotion. She could live with the princess her daughter and their ladies at a very trifling expense, in a place where simplicity of dress and abstemiousness of diet, instead of incurring sarcastic observations, were regarded as virtues. The self-denying habits practised by Mary Beatrice while an inmate of this » Records of Chaillot, in the hdtel de Soubise, Paris. » Ibid. ^ 270 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1710. convent, neither resulted from superstition nor parsimony, but from a conscientious reluctance to expend more than was absolutely necessary upon herself in a time of general suffering and scarcity. One day, when she was indisposed, and dining in her own apartment at Chaillot, the tw^o nuns who waited upon her observed that she was vexed at some- thing, and spoke angrily to lady Strickland, the keeper of her privy- purse, whose office it was to superintend the purveyances for the queen’s private table. As her majesty spoke in English, the nuns did not understand what it was that had displeased her ; but in the evening she said, “ she was sorry that she had spoken so sharply to lady Strickland, who had served her faithfully for nearly thirty years.” The nuus took the liberty of inquiring what that lady had done to annoy her majesty. “ She thought,” said the queen, “ that, as I was not well, I should like some young partridges for my dinner ; but they are very dear at this time, and I confess I was angry that such costly dainties should be pro- cured for me, when so many followers are in want of bread at St. Ger- mains.^ It is true,” continued her majesty, “ that all the emigrants are not persons who have lost their fortunes for our sakes. Too many who apply to me for relief are ruined spendthrifts, gamblers, and people of dissipated lives, who have never cared for the king nor me, but came over to be maintained in idleness out of our pittance, to the loss and discredit of more honourable men. Those sort of people,” she said, “ were more importunate for relief than any other, and ha^ caused her great annoyance by their irregularities, for she was somehow considered responsible for the misdemeanours of every member of the British emi- gration.” The keepers of the royal forest and preserves of St. Germain s-en-laye’ once made a formal complaint to our unfortunate queen, that her pur- veyors had purchased poached game belonging to his most Christian majesty for her table. Mary Beatrice was indignant at the charge, and protested “ that it was incredible.” They assured her, in reply, “ that they could bring ample proofs of the allegation, having traced the game into the chateau.’’ — “ Then,” retorted her majesty, with some warmth, “ it must have been poached by Frenchmen, for I am sure the English are too honourable and honest to do anything of the kind and turn- ing to the vicar of St. Germains, who was present, she asked him “ if he thought they were capable of such malpractices as poaching ?” — “Alas ! madame,” exclaimed the old ecclesiastic, “ it is the besetting sin of your people. I verily believe that if I were dressed in hare-skin, they would poach me.” 2 The queen then gave orders that, for the time to come, no game should be purchased for her table, or even brought into the chateau, unless accompanied by a satisfactory account of whence it came, lest she should be in any way implicated in the evil deeds other followers. Doubt- 1 Diary of Chaillot, MSS. in the h6tel de Soubise, Paris. Ibid. 1710 .] Jacobite poachers at St, Germains, 271 less the well-stocked preserves of his French majesty were somewhat the worse for the vicinity of fox-hunting Jacobite squires, and other starving members of the British colony at St. Germains, who had been accustomed to sylvan sports, and had no other means of subsistence than practising their wood-craft illegally on their royal neighbour’s hares and pheasants. Mary Beatrice was the more annoyed at these trespasses, because it appeared an ungrateful return for the kindness and hospitality that had been accorded to herself, her family, and followers by Louis XIY. , who had always allowed the use of his dogs and the privilege of the chase to her late consort and their son. While at Chaillot, the queen and her daughter were invited to the marriage of the dauphin’s third son, the duke de Berri, with mademoi- selle d’Oiieans ; but they were both at that time so depressed in spirits by the sufferings of their faithful friends at St. Germains, and the failure of all present hope for the restoration of the house of Stuart, that they were reluctant to sadden the nuptial rite by their appearance. The king of France, knowing how unhappy they were, excused them from assist- ing at the ceremonial, but the court ladies were ordered to be in grand costume for their state visit of congratulation at Marli the following evening. When they arrived, the princes and princesses and great nobles were disposed at different card-tables, and, according to the etiquette of that time, the queen and princess made their visits of congratulation at each of them. They then returned to their calm abode at Chaillot, without participation in the diversions of the court.^ The chevalier de St. George returned from the army at the end of the campaign, ill and out of spirits. He came to see his mother and sister at Chaillot, by whom he was tenderly welcomed : all three assisted at the commemorative service of their church on the 16th of September, the anniversary of James II.’s death. The next day the chevalier escorted his sister, the princess Louisa, back to St. Germains ; but Mary Beatrice, who always passed several days at that mournful season in absolute retirement, remained at the convent for that purpose. She was also suffering from indisposition, it appears, from an observation in the fol- lowing affectionate little billet, which the princess Louisa wrote to her beloved parent before she went to bed : — Madame, “I cannot refrain from writing to your majesty this evening, not being able to wait till to-morrow, as the groom does not go till after dinner. I am here only in person, for my heart and soul are still at Chaillot, at your feet, too happy if I could flatter myself that your majesty has thought one moment this evening on your poor daughter, 1 Memoires de St. Simon, vol. viii. p. 366. 27 2 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [i 7 1 o» who can think of nothing but you. We arrived here just as it was striking nine. The king, thank God, is very little fatigued, and has eaten a good supper. You will have the goodness to pardon this sad scrawl, but having only just arrived, my writing-table is in great disorder. I hope this will find your majesty much better than we left you, after a good night’s rest. “ I am, with more respect than ever, your majesty’s most humble and obedient daughter and servant, “ Louise Marie. “At St. Germains, this 17th Sept., in the evening.”^ Most precious, of course, must this unaffected tribute of filial devotion have been to her to whom it was addressed. The faded ink and half- obliterated characters of the crumpled and almost illegibly-scribbled letter, which was too soon to become a relic of the young warm-hearted writer, testify how often it has been bathed in a mother’s tears. Mary Beatrice made her daughter very happy, by writing to her by her son’s physician, Dr. Wood; and her royal highness responds, with all the ardour of devoted love, in the following pleasant letter ; — “ Madame, “ Mr. Wood gave me yesterday the letter your majesty has done me the honour of writing to me. I received it with inexpressible joy, for nothing can equal the pleasure I feel in hearing from you, when I have the misfortune to be absent from you. I am delighted that you are improving in health, and I hope you will be sufficiently recovered to-morrow to undertake the journey with safety. I cannot tell you how impatient I am to kiss your majesty’s hand, and to tell you, by word of mouth, that I can see nothing, nor attend to anything, when I am away from you. The last few days I have passed here have been weary, for I care for nothing without you. Yesterday and to day have seemed to me like two ages. Yesterday I had not even the king, my brother, for you know he was the whole day at Versailles. I could do nothing but pace ap and down the balcony, and, I am sorry to say, only went to the recollets, Meaning, that she attended one of the short services in the Franciscan convent. Her royal highness, however, goes on to confess to her absent mother that she provided herself with better amusement in the sequel, for she says ; — “In the evening, finding a good many of the young people had assembled themselves together below, I sent in quest of a violin, and we danced country-dances till the king returned, which was not till supper- time. I could write till to-morrow without being able to express half the veneration and respect that I owe to your majesty, and, if I might presume to add, the tenderness I cherish for you, if you will permit that 1 Chaillot MSS., in the hCtel de Soublse. 1711 .] State visits of condolence. 27 3 term to the daughter of the best of mothers, and who will venture to add, that her inclination, even more than her duty, compels her to respect and honour your majesty more than it is possible either to imagine or express, and which her heart alone can feel.” ^ Mary Beatrice returned to St. Germains towards the end of September, and spent the winter there with her children. She and her son held their separate little courts under the same roof — he as king, and she as queen-mother of England — with all the ceremonies of royalty. Their poverty would have exposed them to the sarcasms of the French courtiers and wits, if compassion for their misfortunes and admiration for the dignity with which the fallen queen had supported all her trials, had not invested her with romantic interest in the eyes of a chivalric nation. From the monarch on the throne to the humblest of his subjects, all regarded her as an object of reverential sympathy. On the death of the dauphin, in April, 1711, Louis XIV. sent his grand-chamberlain, the due de Bouillon, to announce his loss to Mary Beatrice and her son ; this was done with the same ceremony as if they had been in reality what he thought proper to style them, the king and queen-mother of Great Britain. Mary Beatrice paid Louis a private visit of sympathy at Marli, on the day his son was interred. Her daughter the princess Louisa accompanied her, but it was observed that her majesty left her in the coach, for the dauphin had died of the smallpox, and she feared to expose her darling to the risk of the infection by allow- ing her to enter the palace. She excused the absence of her son for the same reason. State visits of condolence were afterwards paid by her and her son in due form to every member of the royal family. These were returned, on the 21st of April, by the French princes and princesses in a body, greatly resembling a funereal procession, for the ladies wore mourning hoods, and the gentlemen muffling cloaks. Their first visit was paid to the chevalier de St. George, where the respect claimed by his titular rank as king of England forbade the mourners to be seated ; after a few solemn compliments had been exchanged, they were ushered into the presence-chamber of queen Mary Beatrice, who was, with all her ladies in deep mourning. Six fauteuils were placed for the accommodation of the privileged ; namely, herself, her son, the new dauphin and dauphiness, and the duke and duchess of Berri. The latter, as the wife of a grandson of France, took precedence of her parents, the duke and duchess of Orleans, who were only allowed folding chairs.^ When the party were seated, Mary Beatrice apologized for not being herself en mante — that is to say, dressed in a mourning hood and cloak — to receive them ; but this, as she always wore the veil and garb of a widow, was incompatible with her own costume, in which she could not make any 1 From the original French autograph letter, preserved among the Chaillot collection, in the hotel de Soubise, Paris. * 8t. Simon. VOIi. V. T 27 4 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [ 1711 . alteration. When this was repeated to Louis XIY., he kindly said, “ he would not have wished her to do violence to her feelings by altering her costume to assume a mourning hood, even if it had been for himself instead of his son, the dauphin.” ^ After the princes and princesses had conversed with Mary Beatrice a few minutes, they all rose, and signified their wish “of returning the visit of her royal highness the princess of England,” as the youngest daughter of James II. was always styled in France, but the queen prevented them, by sending for her. She was satisfied that they were prepared to pay her daughter that punctihous mark of respect. The princess had absented herself, because it was proper that her visits of condolence should be separately acknowledged, and also because etiquette forbade her to sit in her mother’s presence on this occasion ; and if she stood, the French princesses must also do so, for, as a king’s daughter, she took precedence of them all. In the summer of 1711, the chevalier de St. George made an incognito tour through many of the provinces of France ; and Mary Beatrice, to avoid the expense of keeping up her melancholy imitation of queenly state at St. Germains in his absence, withdrew with the princess her daughter to her favourite retreat at Chaillot. It was within the walls of that convent alone, that the hapless widow of James II. enjoyed a tem- porary repose from the cares and quarrels that harassed her in her exiled court — a court made up of persons of ruined fortunes, with breaking hearts, and tempers soured by disappointment ; who, instead of being united in that powerful bond of friendship which a fellowship in suffering, for the same cause, should have knit, were engaged in con- stant altercations and struggles for pre-eminence. Who can wonder that the fallen queen preferred the peaceful cell of a recluse from the world and its turmoils to the empty parade of royalty, which she was condemned to support in her borrowed palace at St. Germains, where every chamber had its separate intrigues, and whenever she went abroad for air and exercise, or for the purpose of attending the services of her church, she was beset with the importunities of starving petitioners, who, with cries and moving words, or the more touching appeal of pale cheeks and tearful eyes, besought her for that relief which she had no means of bestowing ? Even her youthful daughter, who by nature was inclined to enjoy the amusements of the court, and the sylvan pastimes of the forest or the pleasant banks of the Seine, with her beloved companions, and to look on Chaillot as a very lugubrious place, now regarded it as a refuge from the varied miseries with which she saw her royal mother oppressed at St. Germains. They arrived at the convent on the 20th of July, and were received by the abbess and the nuns with the usual marks of respect. The following day the queen had the satisfaction of reading a letter written by the bishop of Strasbourg to the abbe Boguette, * St. Simon. Chevalier's present to his sister, 275 full of commendations of her son, whom he had seen during his travels. Mary Beatrice was so much delighted with the tenor of this letter, and the quaint simplicity of the style, that she requested it might be put in the drawer of the archives of James II., to be kept with other contemporary records, which she carefully preserved, of lier royal con- sort and their son. The next day she received a letter from the chevalier himself, giving an account of some of the most interesting objects he had noticed during his travels. Among other things, he mentioned “ having visited the hospital and the silk factories of Lyons. In the latter, he had been struck with surprise at seeing 2000 reels worked by one wheel” ^ — an observation from which we learn that France was much in advance of England in machinery at the beginning of the last century, and that looms, worked by water instead of hands, performed on a small scale at Lyons some of the wonders which we see achieved by the power of steam at Manchester and Glasgow, in the present age. Like all the royal Stuarts, the son of James 11. took a lively interest in the arts of peaceful life, and the progress of domestic civilization. His letters to his mother, during this tour, abounded with remarks on these subjects. Mary Beatrice expressed great satisfaction to her friends at Chaillot at the good sense which led him to acquaint himself with matters likely to conduce to the happiness of his people, in case it should be the will of God to call him to the throne of England. The nuns were much more charmed at the prince telling his royal mother, “ that he had been desirous of purchasing for the princess, his sister, one of the most beautiful specimens of the silks made at Lyons for a petticoat, but they had not shown him any that he thought good enough for heY use. He had, however, wisely summoned female taste to his aid, by begging madame Vintendante to undertake the choice for him, and she had written to him, ‘ that she believed she had succeeded better than his majesty so he hoped his sister w'ould have a petticoat of the most rich and splendid brocade that could be procured, to wear in the winter, when she left off her mourning.” ^ The genuine affection for his sister, which is indicated by this little trait, may well atone for its simplicity. Mary Beatrice, having no allowance of any kind for her daughter, was pre- cluded by her poverty from indulging her maternal pride by decking her in rich array. The chevalier de St. George, who had enough of the Frenchman in him to attach some importance to the subject of dress, was perhaps aware of deficiencies in the wardrobe of his fair sister, when he took so much pains to procure for her a dress calculated to give her, on her reappearance at the French court, the eclat of a splendid toilet to set off her natural charms. The pure, unselfish affection which united the disinherited son and daughter of James II. and his queen in exile and poverty, affords a i MS. Memorials of Mary Beatrice, in the archives of France. 2 T 2 276 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1711. remarkable contrast to the political jealousies and angry passions which inflamed the hearts of their triumphant sisters, Mary and Anne, against each other, when they had succeeded in driving their father from his throne, and supplanting their brother in the regal succession. Mary Beatrice always trembled lest her daughter, the princess Louisa, should be induced to listen to the flattering insinuations of persons in her court, who scrupled not to say that nature had fitted her better for a throne than her brother. The duke of Perth, when governor to the prince, always entreated him to imitate the gracious and popular manners of his sister, telling him “ that he ought to make it his study to accquire tiiat which was with her free and spontaneous.” ^ The princess received a very amusing letter from her brother on the 3rd of August, informing her that he had been to Valence, and afterwards paid an incognito visit to the army under the command of the duke of Berwick, in Dauphiny. The queen permitted her daughter to gratify the sisters of Chaillot by reading this letter aloud to them at the evening recreation, at which j they were delighted ; the fond mother herself, although she had read it j previously, could not refrain from commending the witty and agreeable | style in which it was written. She told the nuns “ that her son would I certainly render himself greatly loved and esteemed, wherever he went ' adding, “ that she had been surprised at what he had written to lord I Middleton about two deserters from the regiment of Berwick, who had i gone over to the enemy’s army, and surrendered themselves to General i Kaon, a German, who commanded the army of the duke of Savoy, i When they arrived, general Kaon was with the bailli of the village, who i had come to treat about a contribution ; being informed of the circum- stance, he ordered them to be brought before him, but, instead of giving them the flattering reception they doubtless anticipated, and asking for intelligence of their camp, he said to them, very sternly, ‘ You are very base to desert your army ; and what renders your conduct still more infamous is, your doing so at the time the king of England, your master, is there.’ ^ — I was surprised,” continued the queen, “ to learn that a German had so much politeness as to venture to give my son the name of king.” “ It seems, madam,” observed the nuns, as if he had a secret presentiment that the time decreed by Providence is approaching for a happy revolution. The boldness of Mr. Dundas makes us think so ; for otherwise, according to the justice, or rather, we ought to say, the injustice of England, he would have been punished for his speech.” — “ No,” replied the queen, “ they cannot do him any harm ; and his speech has been printed in England, and dispersed throughout Scotland, and everywhere else.” ^ * MS. Memorials of Mary Beatrice, in the ^ Memorials of Mary Bpatrice. See archives of France. also Macpherson’s History of KngLmd, and * Ibid. Lockhart Papers. 277 1711.] Medal of the chevalier de St. George. It is amusing to find the cloistered sisters of Chaillot talking of the speech of an Edinburgh advocate, but not surprising, since the widowed queen of James II., who still continued to be the central point to which all the Jacobite correspondence tended, held her privy councils at this time within their grate, and constantly discussed with her ladies, before the favourite members of the community who had the honour of wait- ing on her, the signs of the times, and'the hopes or fears which agitated her for the cause of her son. If one of the state ministers of France visited Mary Beatrice and made any particular communication to her, and she prudently kept silence on the subject, its nature was divined by her looks, or the effect it produced on her spirits, and in due time the mystery unravelled itself. In regard, however, to the speech of Mr. Dundas, of Arniston, there was no necessity for secrecy, for the sturdy Scot had fearlessly perilled life and limb to give publicity to his treason- able affection for the representative of the exiled house of Stuart, and his audacity was regarded as a favourable indication of public feeling towards the cause of that unfortunate prince. Mary Beatrice had sent some silver medals of her son to several of her old friends in England ; among the rest to that errant Jacobite lady, the duchess of Gordon. These medals bore the profile of the chevalier de St. George, with a superscription endowing him with the title of James III., king of Great Britain, Ireland and France. On the reverse was the map of the Bri- tannic empire, with a legend, implying that these dominions would be restored to him as their rightful king. The duchess of Gordon, to try how the lawyers of Scotland stood affected towards a counter-revolution, sent one of these medals as a pre- sent to the dean of the faculty of advocates. It was received by that learned body with enthusiasm, and Eobert Dundas, of Arniston, being deputed to convey their acknowledgments to her grace, told her, “ that the faculty of advocates thanked her for presenting them with the medal of their sovereign lord the king, and hoped her grace would soon have the opportunity of sending them a medal to commemorate the restoration of the king and royal family, and the finishing of rebellion, usurpation, treason, and whiggery.” ^ Such was the weakness of queen Anne’s regnal power in Scotland at that time, that no notice was taken of this seditious declaration till the Hanoverian envoy complained of it to the queen. In consequence of his representation, orders were given to Sir David Dalrymple, the lord -advocate, to proceed against Dundas ; but the prosecution was presently dropped. Dundas printed his speech, and boldly defended it in a still more treasonable pamphlet, which, in due time, found its way not only to St. Germains, but to the convent of Chaillot, and was highly relished by the nuns. Once, when the prospects of the restoration of the exiled Stuarts to 1 Macpherson’s History of England. 278 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1711. the throne of Britain were discussed, the princess Louisa said, “ For my part, I am best pleased to remain in ignorance of the future.” — It is one of the greatest mercies of God that it is hidden from our sight,” observed the queen. “ When I first passed over to France, if any one had told me I should have to remain there two years, I should have been in despair ; and 1 have now been here upwards of two-and-twenty — God, who is the ruler of our destinies, having so decreed.” — “ It seems to me, madam,” said the princess, “ that persons who, like myself, have been born in adversity,” are less to be pitied than those who have suf- fered a reverse. Never having tasted good fortune, they are not so sensible of their calamities; besides, they always have hope to en- courage them. Were it not,” continued she, “for that, it would be very melancholy to pass the fair season of youth in a life so full of sadness.” ^ Sister Catharine Angelique told her royal highness, that her grand- mother, queen Henrietta Maria, was accustomed to thank God that he had made her a queen, and an unfortunate queen. “ Thus, madam,” continued the old religieuse, “ it is, in reality, a great blessing that your royal highness has not found yourself in a position to enjoy the plea- sures and distinctions pertaining to your rank and age.” — “ Truly,” said the queen, turning to her daughter, “ I regard it in the same light, and have often been thankful, both on your account and that of my son, that you are at present even as you are. 'i’he inclination you both have for pleasure might otherwise have carried you beyond due bounds.” ^ Such were the lessons of Christian philosophy with which the royal mother endeavoured to reconcile her children to the dispensations of Divine Providence, which had placed them in a situation so humiliating to their pride, and that ambition which is generally a propensity inse- parable from royal blood. Catharine Angelique told the queen and princess, “ that their royal foundress, Henrietta Maria, in the midst of her misfortunes, was glad to be a queen ; and that she would sometimes say, ‘ It is always a fine title, and I should not like to relinquish it.’ ” — “ For my part,” observed Mary Beatrice, “ I can truly say that I never found any happiness in that envied title. I never wished to be queen of England ; for I loved king Charles very sincerely, and was so greatly afflicted at his death, that I dared not show how much I grieved for his loss, lest I should have been accused of grimace.” ® It was during one of those conversations that the name of the late queen-dowager, Catha- rine of Braganza, being brought up, the princess Louisa asked her mother, if there were any grounds for the reported partiality of that queen for the earl of Feversham ? “ No,” replied Mary Beatrice : “ not the slightest.” — “ It is very strange,” observed the princess, thought- fully, “ how such invidious rumours get into circulation ; but,” con- MS. Diary of a nun of Chaillot, in the hotel de Soubise, Paris. 2 3 ibid. 1711.] Patience with the tiresome, 279 tinued she, “ the prudence of your majesty’s conduct has been such as to defy scandal itself, which has never dared to attack your name.” “ You are too young to know anything about such matters, my child,’* replied the queen, gravely. “ Pardon me, madam,” rejoined the princess, “ these things are always known ; for, as one of the ancient poets has said of princes, ‘ Their faults write themselves in the public records of their times.’ ” ^ Mary Beatrice enjoyed unwonted repose of mind and body at this sea- son. She had cast all her cares on a higher power, and passed her time quietly in the cloister, in the society of her lovely and beloved daughter, in whose tender affection she tasted as much happiness as her widowed heart was capable of experiencing. The lively letters of her son, who was an excellent correspondent, cheered the royal recluse, and furnished conversation for the evening hours of recreation, when the nuns were permitted to relax their thoughts from devotional subjects, and join in conversation, or listen to that of their illustrious inmates. It was then that Mary Beatrice would occasionally relieve her overburdened mind by talking of the events of her past life, and deeply is it to be regretted, that only disjointed fragments remain of the diary kept by the nun who employed herself in, recording the reminiscences of the fallen queen. Occasionally the holy sister enters into particulars more minute than in- teresting to the general reader, such as the days on which her majesty took medicine, and very often the drugs of which it was compounded are enumerated. Successive doses of quinquina, with white powder of whalebone, and the waters of St. Kemi, appear to have been a standing prescription with her. By the skill of her French surgeon, Beaulieu, the progress of the cancer had been arrested so completely, that it was regarded at this period as almost cured. Whether this were attributable to her perseverance in the above prescription, or to the diversion caused in her favour by a painful abscess, which fixed on one of her fingers at this time, may be a question, perhaps, among persons skilled in the heal- ing art. Mary Beatrice suffered severely with her finger, and her suffer- ings were aggravated by the tedious proceedings of Beaulieu, who had become paralytic in her service, and though his right hand had lost its cunning, was so tenacious of his office, that he would not suffer any one to touch his royal mistress but himself. Her ladies, and even the nuns, were annoyed at seeing his ineffectual attempts at performing operations with a trembling, uncertain hand, and said he ought not to be allowed to put the queen to so much unnecessary pain ; but Mary Beatrice, who valued the infirm old man for his faithful services in past years, bore everything with unruffled patience.^ It was a principle of conscience with her, never to wound the feelings of those about her, if she could avoid it. She was very careful not to distinguish one of her ladies more 1 MS. Diary of a nun of Chaillot * Ibid. 280 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1711. than another by any particular mark of attention, for all were faithfully attached to her. How much milder her temper was considered by per- sons of low degree than that of one of her ladies, may be inferred from the following whimsical incident: One day, at dinner, she complained “ that the glass they had brought her was too large and heavy for her hand,” and asked for that out of which she was accustomed to drink, which she said “ was both lighter and prettier.” The young domestic probationer who washed the glass and china belonging to her majesty’s table hearing this, ran in great fright to the econome, and confessed that she had had the misfortune of breaking the queen of England’s drinking- glass. “ I don’t mind the queen knowing that it was I who did it,” said she, “ but I hope she will not tell lady Strickland.” Mary Beatrice was much amused when this was repeated to her, and laughed heartily at the simplicity of the poor girl.^ The same damsel, whose name was Claire Antoinette Constantin, being about to take the veil as a humble sister of that convent, expressed an earnest desire, the night before her profession, to make a personal confession to the queen of England of an injury she had been the cause of her suffering, for that she could not be happy to enter upon her new vocation till she had received her pardon. The unfortunate widow of James II., having had painful experience of the deceitfulness and ingratitude of human nature, doubtless expected to listen to an acknowledgment of treacherous practices with regard to her private papers or letters, that had been productive of mischief to her interests and the cause of her son, when she consented to see the peni- tent offender, who, throwing herself at her feet, with great solemnity confessed a peccadillo that inclined her majesty to smile. She spake the girl kindly, and having talked with her about her profession, sent her away with a light heart. Mary Beatrice met one of the nuns in the gallery presently after, to whom she said, laughing at the same time, “ Do you know that sister Claire Antoinette has just been asking my pardon for causing me the afflicting loss of a little silver cup and two coffee spoons.” — “ It was derogatory to your majesty for her to say that you could feel any trouble for such a loss,” replied the nun ; “ but she hardly knew what she said when she found herself in the presence of royalty.” The queen condescended to assist at the profession of the humble Claire Antoinette.^ The 19 th of September being a very rainy day, the queen did not expect any visitors, and was surprised at seeing one of the dauphiness’s pages ride into the court : he came to announce that her royal highness intended to pay her majesty and the princess of England a visit after dinner. Adelaide of Savoy, duchess of Burgundy, was then dauphiness : she arrived with her retinue at four o’clock, accompanied by her sister- in-law, the duchess de Berri. The abbess received them at the grate, 1 MS. Diary of a nuu of Chaillot. 2 ibid. 1711 .] Attention of the dauphiness to the queen and ^princess. 281 and the princess Louisa came to meet them in the cloister leading to the queen’s suite of apartments. As soon as the dauphiness saw her, she signified to her train-bearer that she did not require him to attend her further; and it seems she disencumbered herself of her train at the same time, for our circumstantial chronicler says, “ she went to the princess of England en corpof which means, in her bodice and petticoat, without the royal mantle of state, which was made so as to be thrown off or assumed at pleasure. The princess Louisa conducted the royal guests into the presence of the queen, who, being indisposed, was on her bed. Mary Beatrice greeted the kind Adelaide in these words : “ What has induced you, my dear dauphiness, to come and dig out the poor old woman in her cell The dauphiness made an affectionate reply, and “ the queen conversed with her apart very tenderly, while the princess entertained the duchess de Berri.” After some time, her majesty told her daughter to show the duchess de Berri the house, and the dauphiness remained alone with her. When the princess and the duchess returned, the dauphiness begged the queen to allow the princess to take a walk with her, to which a willing assent being given, they went out together. The heavy rain having rendered the gardens unfit for the promenade, the royal friends returned into the house, and the princess took the dauphiness to see the work, with which she seemed much pleased ; they afterwards rejoined Mary Beatrice in her apartment. “ As it was Satur- day afternoon, and past four o’clock,” continues our authority, “her majesty did not offer a collation to the dauphiness, but only fish and bread, with a flask of Muscat.” ^ The dauphiness, the same day, gave orders to the duchess de Lauzun that there should be a party made for the chase in the Bois de Boulogne on purpose for the princess of England, and a supper prepared for her at the house of the duchess at Passy. There were two great obstacles in the way of the princess enjoying this pleasure, which the poverty of her royal mother apparently rendered insurmountable : she had neither a horse that she could safely mount, nor a riding-dress fit for her to appear in before the gay and gallant court of France. Bitter mortifications these for a youthful beauty, and she the daughter of a king. The amiable dauphiness, however, who had either been informed of these deficiencies, or guessed the state of her unfortunate cousin’s stud and wardrobe appointments, sent one of her equerries, on the morning of the important day, with a beautiful well-trained palfrey from her own stable for the princess’s use, together with a splendid riding-dress. She wrote, at the same time, to the queen, “entreating her to permit the princess to join the hunting-party on horseback, for she had sent one of the horses she had been herself accustomed to mount for her to ride adding, “ that she hoped her majesty would excuse the literty she had I Diary of the nun of Chaillot ; inedited MSS. in the hdtel de Soubise. 282 Mary Beatrice of Modena* [171 1» ventured to take in sending, also, one of her own hunting-dresses for her royal highness the princess of England, the time being too short to allow of having a new one made on purpose.” The pride of a vulgar mind might have been offended at this little circumstance, hut Mary Beatrice, though her naturally lofty spirit had been rendered more pain- fully sensitive by her great reverse of fortune, fully appreciated the affectionate freedom of her royal kinswoman, and wrote to her with her own hand, in reply, “ that it would be very unkind to refuse what was so kindly meant and courteously offered ; that she thanked her very sincerely, and assured her that she should have much joy in the plea- sure that had been provided for her child.” ^ On the Tuesday following, Mary Beatrice considered it proper to pay a visit to the king of France at Versailles, and to thank the dauphiness for her attention to her daughter. It cost her a struggle to emerge from her present quiet abode to present herself at court again, after so long an absence. She said, several times, “I am getting such an old woman, that I feel embar- rassed myself on such occasions, and shall only be a restraint on others.” She took her young bright Louisa with her to Versailles, to make all the round of state visits to the members of the royal family. Her majesty wore a black mantle and cap, but the princess was in full court costume : they returned to the convent at eight in the evening. Mary Beatrice wished to make a round of visits to the religious houses of Paris, and especially to the sisters of St. Antoine ; but, as the pesti- lence was raging in that city, she was deterred, from the fear of exposing her daughter to the infection. She had promised the princess the plea- sure of going to the Italian comedy at this time, and a day was fixed ; but the evening before, lady Middleton represented to the queen that it might be attended with danger to the princess, as Paris was so full of bad air ; on which her majesty told her daughter, “ that although it gave her some pain to deprive her of so small a pleasure, she could not allow her to go.” The princess had reckoned very much upon it, but said her majesty’s kindness quite consoled her for her disappointment.^ Never was a mother more devotedly loved and honoured than was Mary Beatrice by her sweet daughter, who had now become her friend and companion. One day, when she had allowed the* princess to go incogs nito to Paris with lady Middleton, to dine with madame Rothes, the married daughter of that lady, she could not help repeating many times during dinner, “ It must be owned that we miss my daughter very much.” Mary Beatrice, notwithstanding her fears of exposing that precious one to the danger of entering the infected city, was persuaded to take her with her to the church of the English Benedictines, when she went to pay her annual visit of sorrowful remembrance to the 1 Diaiy of the nun of Chaillot ; inedited MSS. in the hotel de Soubise. 2 MS. Memorials of Mary Beatrice d’Este. 283 1711 .] Visit to the remains of king James, remains of her lamented lord, king James, which still remained un- buried, under a sable canopy surmounted with the crown of England, in the aisle of St. Jacques, though ten years had passed away since his death. To avoid attracting attention, or the appearance of display, the royal widow and orphan daughter of that unfortunate prince went in a hired coach, attended by only two ladies, the duchess of Perth and the countess of Middleton, to pay this mournful duty, and to offer up their prayers in the holy privacy of a grief too deep to brook the scrutiny of public curiosity. On one or two previous occasions, the coach of the exiled queen had been recognised, and followed by crowds of persons of all degrees, who, in their eagerness to gaze on the royal heroine of this mournful romance of history, had greatly distressed and agitated her, even by the vehemence of their sympathy — the French being then not only an excitable, but a venerative people, full of compassion for the calamities of royalty. Popular superstition had invested the deceased king with the name of a saint, and attributed to his perishable mortal remains the miraculous power of curing diseases. His bier was visited by pilgrims from all parts of France, and on this oceasion his faithful widow and daughter, shrouded in their mourning cloaks and veils, passed unnoticed among the less interesting enthusiasts who came to offer up their vows and prayers in the aisle of St. Jacques. Some persons outside the church asked the coachman whom he had driven there ? The man not being at all aware of the quality of the party, replied, “ that he had brought two old gentlewomen, one middle aged, and a young lady.” ^ This unceremonious description beguiled the fallen queen of England of a smile, perhaps from the very revulsion of feeling caused by its con- trast to the reverential and elaborate titles with which royal personages are accustomed to hear themselves styled. Queen now only by courtesy, deprived of pomp, power, and royal attributes, Mary Beatrice had gained by her adversity better things than she had lost — patience, resignation, and sufficient philosophy to regard the distinctions of this world and its vanities in their true light ; yet, like all human creatures, she had her imperfections. That quaintly minute chronicler, the nun of Chaillot, records, “ that she once saw her royal friend visibly discomposed for a very slight matter, and that, strange to say, caused by an unwonted act of awkwardness on the part of her daughter, the princess Louisa, who, in drawing the soup to her at dinner, spilt it on the table-cloth, and all over the queen’s napkin. Her majesty’s colour rose, she looked angry, but said nothing.” In the evening she confessed that “ she felt so much irritated at the moment, that she had with great difficulty restrained herself from giving vent to her annoyance in words ;” she severely cen- * The ladies Perth and Middleton, being the elders of the party, came under the description of the two old gentlewomen ; the queen, of the middle aged ; and the princess, of the young lady. 284 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [i 7 n i sured herself at the same time, for allowing her temper to be ruffled by such a trifle. Mary Beatrice bore a serious trial, soon after, with the equanimity of a heroine and the dignity of a queen. On the day of St. Ursula, as she was about to enter the choir of the conventual church with her daughter, to perform her devotions, a letter was delivered to her from the duke de Lauzun, informing her that the negotiations for a peace between England and France had commenced, which must involve the repudiation of her son’s title and cause by Louis XIV. Mary Beatrice read the letter attentively, though without betraying the slightest emotion, then showed it to her daughter, who wept passionately. The queen turned into the aisle of St. Joseph, where, finding one of the nuns whom she sometimes employed as her private secretary, she re- quested her to write, in her name, to the due de Lauzun, “ thanking him for the kind attention he had shown in apprizing her of what she had not before heard, and begging him to give her information of any fqrther particulars that might come to his knowledge.” She then entered the church, and attended the service, without allowing any con- firmation to be read in her countenance of the ill news which the tearful eyes of the princess indicated that the letter had communicated.” ^ An anxious interest was excited on the subject among the sisters of Chaillot, who certainly were by no means devoid of the feminine attribute of curiosity. At dinner, Mary Beatrice betrayed no apipearance of dejec- tion, and no one ventured to ask a question. The next morning, at the hour of relaxation, seeing all the nuns near her, she said “ she would impart to them something that was in the due de Lauzun’s letter ; namely, that their king had said at his levee, ‘ The English have offered me reasonable terms of peace, and the choice of three cities for the treaty.’ ” She said no more, and the abbess of Chaillot, taking up the discourse, rejoined, “ But, madam, what advantage will your majesty and the king, your son, find in this peace?” The queen, instead of making a direct reply, said, “ Peace is so great a blessing, that it ought to be rejoiced at ; and we owe such signal obligations to France, that we cannot but wish for anything that is beneficial to it.” ^ At supper, she told the community the names of the plenipotentiaries on both sides. She said “ that she had, as soon as she was informed of these particulars, written to her son to hasten his return, because it would be desirable for her to see and consult with him on the steps proper to be taken for sup- porting his interests. The chevalier de St. George was then at Grenoble, from whence he wrote a long, amusing letter to his sister, descriptive of the place and its history, and of the principal towns and ports he had visited. The princess read the letter aloud to the nuns, in the presence of her royal mother, who, though she had perused it before, listened with lively interest to all the details. 1 MS. Diary of the nun of Chaillot. 2 Ibid. 1 7 1 1 . J Witty proposal of an Irish priest. 285 Mary Beatrice gave a medal of her son to the abbess of Ohaillot, “ which,” says the recording sister of that community, “ will be found among our archives, together with a copy of the speech made by the sieur Dundas, in Scotland.” The princess Louisa had given the due de Lauzun one of these medals in the summer, and he, in return, presented to her, through his wife’s relation, sister Louise de I’Orge, a nun in that convent, a miniature of the queen, magnificently set with diamonds, in a very pretty shagreen box. The princess testified great joy at this present, but the queen appeared thoughtful and sad ; at last she said : “ I have been several times tempted to send it back. I see I am still very proud, for I cannot bear that any one should make presents to my daughter, when she is not able to make a suitable return. It is from the same principle of pride,” continued her majesty, “ that 1 cannot consent to allow my portrait to be painted now. One should not suffer oneself to be seen as old and ugly by those who might remember what one has been when young.” She was, however, induced to allow the princess to retain the gift which had been so kindly presented by her old and faithful friend, de Lauzun.^ At supper, on the 3rd of November, some one told the queen “ that the marshal Tallard had facetiously proposed to the ministers of queen Anne, that the prince, whom they called the Pretender, should espouse their queen, as the best method of reconciling their differences.” — “ You are mistaken,” said Mary Beatrice. “ It was a priest who made that proposal, and I will tell you what he said, at the recreation to- night.” All were impatient to hear the right version of the story, and at the time appointed her majesty told them, with some humour, “ that a witty Irish priest, having been summoned before a bench ot magistrates for not taking the oath of abjuration, said to their worships, ‘ Would it not be best, in order to end these disputes, that your queen should marry the Pretender?’ To which all present exclaimed, in a tone of horror, ‘ Why, he is her brother !’ — ‘ If so,’ rejoined the priest, ‘ why am I required to take an oath against him ?’ ” The abbess of Ohaillot asked the queen, in confidence, “ if the reports about a peace were correct ? and, if so, whether anything for the relief of her majesty were likely to be stipulated in the treaty ?” Mary Beatrice replied, “ that the peace was certain to take place, and that she had some prospect of receiving her dower ; but it must be kept a profound secret, because of the Irish, who would all be about her.” ^ Her great anxiety was to pay her debts, of which by far the largest was what she owed to the convent of Ohaillot; it gave her much pain, she said, that she had not been in a condition to pay the annual rent — namely, 3000 livres, for the apartments she hired there, the arrears of which now amounted to a very large sum. The abbess took the opportunity of 1 Diary of the nun of Chaillol. 2 Ibid ^ ^bid. 286 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ 1711 * reminding her indigent royal tenant of the state of outstanding accounts between her majesty and that house. She said, “ that in addition to the 18,000 livres her majesty had had the goodness to pay them, she had given them a promissory note for 42,000 more, being unpaid rent for the last fourteen years.” Mary Beatrice was so bewildered at the formidable sound, in French figures, of a sum which did not amount to 2000?. of English money, that she could not remember having given such an engagement, and begged the abbess to let her see it. The abbess produced the paper out of the strong box, and her majesty, presently recollecting herself, freely acknowledged and confirmed it. The abbess in the evening called a council of the elders of the community on the subject, and they agreed that they ought to thank her majesty for what she had done. The very politeness of her creditors was painful to the sensitive feelings of the unfortunate queen. She interrupted them with great emotion, by saying, “ that one of the greatest mortifications of her life was, to have seen how many years she had been lodging with them for nothing ; and that they must attribute it to the unhappy state of her affairs, and to the extremity of that necessity which has no law.”^ Among all the sad records of the calamities of royalty, there are few pictures more heart-rending than that of the widow of a king of Great Britain reduced to the humiliation of making such an avowal. The money that should have been devoted to the payment of her rent at Chaillot, had been extorted from her compassion by the miseries of the starving thousands by whom she was daily importuned for bread when at St. Germains. As long as the royal widow had a livre in her purse, she could not resist the agonizing petitions of these unfortunates ; and when all was gone, she fled to Chaillot, literally for refuge. She told the community “that they might reckon on her good offices, when- ever they thought it might he in her power to serve them.” One of the nuns who waited on Mary Beatrice took the liberty of approaching her when they were alone, and endeavoured to soothe her wounded spirit by assuring her, “ that the abbess and sisters could never suffi- ciently acknowledge her goodness and her charity to their house ; and that the whole community were truly grateful for the blessing of having her among them, for her example had inspired them with a new zeal for the performance of the duties of their religion ;” adding, “ that it gave their community great pain, when the poverty of their house com- pelled them to mention anything that was due to them ; hut they should all be most willing to wait her majesty’s convenience.” Mary Beatrice talked of changing her apartments for those lately occupied by mademoiselle de la Motte, which were only half the rent of hers, hut it was begged that she would retain her own.^ The next day Mary Beatrice had the consolation of embracing her son, 1- Diary of the nun of Chaillot, in the hotel de Soubise, Paris. * Ibid. 1711 .] Visited by her son at Chaillot 287 who arrived at Chaillot on the 4th of November, at nine in the morning, having slept at Chartres the preceding night. He entered alone, having hastened on before his retinue to greet his royal mother and sister. They both manifested excessive joy at seeing him ; he dined with them in her majesty’s apartment, and the abbess waited on them at dinner. The queen said, several times, that he greatly resembled bis late uncle, king Charles II. “ This prince,” says the recording sister of Chaillot, “ is very tall and well formed, and very graceful. He has a pleasant manner, is very courteous and obliging, and speaks French well.” After dinner, permission was asked of the queen for the community to have the honour of coming in to see the king, as they called her son. Her majesty assenting, they entered, and seated themselves on the ground, and listened with great interest to the chevalier’s conversation, which consisted chiefly of his remarks on the various places he had visited during his late tour, on which, like other travellers, he delighted to discourse to reverential listeners. Mary Beatrice kindly sent for sister Louise de TOrge, one of the nuns, who, although she was then in her retreat, was well pleased at being indulged with a peep at the royal visitor. Mary Beatrice announced her intention of returning to St. Germains with her son that evening, and said she would not make any adieus. She paid, however, a farewell visit after vespers to the tribune, where the heart of her beloved consort was enshrined, and then returned to her own apartment, and waited there while the princess took leave of the abbess and the community. Notwithstanding the joy of the princess at this reunion with her much-loved brother, she was greatly moved at parting from the kind nuns ; and when she bade adieu to her particular friend, sister Marguerite Henriette, she burst into tears. The queen herself was agitated ; she said several times, “ that she could not under- stand two conflicting inclinations in her mind — her desire to return with her son, and her fear of quitting her home at Chaillot for the turmoils and difficulties that would beset her at St. Germains.” ^ At her departure, she said a few gracious words of acknowledgment, as she passed them, to those nuns who had had the honour of wait- ing upon her. Her beloved friend, Fran 9 oise Angelique Priolo, was in ill health ; and the following playful letter, without date, was written to her by Mary Beatrice, probably soon after her return to St. Germains : — “ Although you have preferred my daughter to me, in writing to her rather than to me, about which I will not quarrel with you, I must needs write two words to you, to explain about the money that Demster brings you. There are 22 louis, of which 200 livres must be taken for the half-year of the perpetual mass ; 29 for the two bills that you have given to Molza ; and the rest to purchase a goat, whose milk will pre- 1 Diary of the nun of Chaillot. 288 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [i 7 1 1 • serve and improve the health of my dear good mother. They assure me that they have sent the money for the v70od.” ^ Mary Beatrice came to see her sick friend at the convent of Chaillot on the 9th of December, accompanied by the princess, her daughter, and returned the next day to St. Germains. The preliminary negotiations for the peace of Utrecht filled the exiled court with anxiety and stirring excitement. The duke of Marlborough renewed his secret correspon- dence with Mary Beatrice and her son, through the medium of his nephew Berwick, and even committed himself so far as to confer per- sonally with Tunstal, one of the agents of the earl of Middleton. In the curiously mystified official report of these conferences, written by the latter to Middleton, Mary Beatrice is, as usual, mentioned under two different feigned names ; her dower is called her lawsuit, and Marl- borough is styled the lawyer ; — “ I had two long conferences with him,” writes Tunstal, “ about Mr. Bernhard’s lawsuit, and Mr. Kelly’s [the chevalier’s] affairs, as to both which he shows a goodwill, and gives, in appearance, sincere wishes ; but how far he will be able to work effectually in the matter, I leave you to judge. First, as to Mr. Bernhard’s [the queen’s] deed ; he says, it must be insisted upon in time, for he looks upon it as certain that an accommodation will be made ; and if he shall be found capable of helping or signing this deed, he assures Mr. Bernhard [the queen] of his best services. But he believes measures are taken in such a manner, that he shall be excluded from having any hand in concluding matters at Poncy [the peace].” ^ Tunstal goes on to state Marlborough’s opinion, that the payment of the jointure of the widowed queen ought to be strenuously insisted upon ; “ and the gaining that point of the deed,” continues he, “ will he of great consequence, not only as to the making my lady Betty [queen Mary Beatrice] easy as to her own circumstances, hut very much conducing to the advancing Mr. Anthony’s [the chevalier St. George’s] interest ; and this not so much, again, as to the money itself, as to the grant of it, which cannot be refused, having been formerly conceded at Poncy [the peace of Kyswick], and only diverted by the unworthiness of him who then ruled the roast,” ^ meaning William III. On the subject of the jointure Marlborough begged Tunstal to assure Mary Beatrice, “ that if the pay- ment were put to the vote of parliament, it would find many supporters, who would he glad of the opportunity of making their compliments to her a bonne grace, and giving some testimony of their goodwill ; and if she thought that he were himself in a capacity to serve her in that matter, he would be glad of showing himself her humble servant.” In the same conference, Marlborough begged that the prince would not listen to any proposal of taking refuge in the papal dominions ; for if the queen con- sented to his doing that, it would be no better than ruining the cause of her son, and murdering him outright. He recommended some Protestant state as a more popular asylum, and declared, nay, solemnly swore, that From the original French of an inedited 2 Stuart Papers, in Macpherson. letter of Mary Beatrice, in the archives of 3 ibid, France. 289 3712 .] Death of dauphin and dauphiness. the recall of the prince appeared to him as certain to take place. ^ Neither oaths nor professions from that quarter appear to have had much weight at the court of St. Germains, if we may judge from the dry comments made by the earl of Middleton to his political agent on this com- munication : — “As for your laivyer^ he is gone, and before you meet again, we shall see clearer. ... He might have been great and good, but God hardened Pharaoh’s heart, and he can now only pretend to the humble merit of a post-boy, who brings good news to which he has not con- tributed.” 2 The affairs of the widow and son of James II. were far enough from being in the favourable position which the flattering courtship of the disgraced favourite of queen Anne led their shallow minister to imagine. Middleton was not, however, the only person deceived in this matter ; for the dauphin paid a visit to Mary Beatrice and the chevalier at this crisis, especially to congratulate them on their prospects.^ Mary Beatrice placed great reliance on the friendship always testified by that amiable prince and his consort for her and her children, but the “ arm of flesh ” was not to profit them. The dauphiness was attacked with malignant purple fever on the 6th of February. Fatal symptoms appeared on the 9th ; on the 11th her life was despaired of, and they forced her distracted husband from her bedside, to breathe the fresh air in the gardens at Versailles. Mary Beatrice, ever fearless of infection for herself, hastened to Versailles, but was not permitted to enter the chamber of her dying friend. She sat with the king and madam e de Maintenon, in the room adjoining to the chamber of death, while the last sacraments of the church of Kome were administered, and remained there all that sad night.'* She was also present at the consultation of the physicians, when they decided on bleeding the royal patient in the foot. She saw, as she afterwards emphatically observed, “ that physicians understood nothing, comparatively speaking, of the life of man, the issues of which depend on God.” The dauphiness expired on the 11th of February ; the afflicted widower only survived her six days. The inscrutable fiat which, at one blow, desolated the royal house of France, and deprived a mighty empire a second time of its heir, involved also the ultimate destruction of the hopes of the kindred family of Stuart. The fast-waning sands of Louis XIV., now sinking under the weight of years and afflictions, were rudely shaken by this domestic calamity, which was immediately followed by the death of the eldest son of the young pair, leaving the majesty of France to be represented, in less than three years, by a feeble infant, and its power to be exercised by the profligate and selfish regent, Orleans. * Stuart Papers, in Macphorson. 3 St. Simon. MS. Memorials of Mary 2 Ibid. Beatrice. Ibid. VOL. V. U 290 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [ 1712 . I have been deeply grieved,” writes Mary Beatrice, “ for the deaths of the dauphin and our dear dauphin ess. After the king, there are no other persons in France whose loss could have affected us in every way like this. The death of the young dauphin has not failed to touch me also. We must adore the judgments of God, which are always just, although inscrutable, and submit ourselves to his will.” ^ The portentous shadows with which these tragic events had darkened the political horizon of her son, affected Mary Beatrice less than the awful lesson on the uncertainty of life, and the vanity of earthly expec- tation, which the sudden death of these illustrious persons, snatched away in the flower of youth and high and glorious anticipation, was calculated to impress. The royal widow regarded their deaths as a warning to put her own house in order ; and in the self-same letter in which she mentions the threefold tragedy to her friend, the abbess of Chaillot, she says : — “ I pray you, my dear mother, to send me by the courier the packet that I left with you of my will ; and also the copies of all the papers written in my hand for moneys paid or to pay, and likewise what I have promised for my sister M. Paule de Douglas. I would wish to put them all in order before the approach of death, who, we see, comes always when we think of him the least “ M.” Indorsed — “The 15th March, 1712. We have not sent the queen her will, according to what she has ordained us in this letter, hut the copies of the papers written by her hand which remain in the box, her majesty having done us the honour to consign them to us, hut not her will.” These papers were the vouchers which the queen had given to the abbess and community of Chaillot for the sums of money in which she stood indebted to them, as before mentioned, for the hire of the apart- ments she and the young princess her daughter, and their ladies, had occupied during their occasional residence in that convent for many years. Whether she came there much or little, the apartments were always reserved for her use at an annual rent of three thousand francs. This sum, less than one hundred and thirty pounds a year, the destitute widow of king James II., who had been a crowned and anointed queen- consort of Great Britain, had never been able to pay ; but had been reduced to the mortifying necessity of begging the community of Chaillot to accept such instalments as her narrowed finances and the uncertain payments of her French pension enabled her to offer, with a written engagement to liquidate the debt, either when she should receive the payment of her dower as queen of England, or at the restoration of the house of Stuart. Under these conditions, the compassionate sisterhood of Chaillot had allowed their royal friend’s debt to accumulate to fifty 1 MS. letters of Mary Beatrice, in ttke archives of France. “ Ibid. 1712 .] Debts and shadowy securities. 291 thousand francs, up to the year 1712, as specified in the following document : — “ Having always intended to make arrangements for the good of the monastery of the Visitation of St. Marie de Chaillot, because of the affec- tion which I have to their holy order in general, and to this house in particular, in which 1 have been so many times received and well lodged for nearly the four-and-twenty years I have been in France, and wishing at present to execute this design better than it is possible for me to do in the circumstances under which 1 find myself at present : I declare that my intention, on my retiring into this monastery, has always been to give three thousand livres a year for the hire of the apartments I have occupied here since the year 1689, till this present year 1712, in all which time I have never paid them but nineteen thousand livres. It still remains for me to pay fifty thousand, which fifty thousand I engage and promise to give to the said monastery of the Visitation of St. Marie de Chaillot on the establishment of the king my son in England.” It is remarkable, that the agitated hand of the poor exile, who had been queen of the realm, has written that once familiar word Aengelter, instead of Angleterre^ in this record of her poverty and honest desire to provide for the liquidation of her long arrears of rent to the convent of Chaillot. She continues in these words : — “ And not having the power to do this while living, I have charged the king my son, in my testament, and engaged him to execute all these promises, which he will find written by my own hand, and that before one year be passed after his restoration.” Alas ! poor queen, poor prince, and luckless nuns, on what a shadowy foundation did these engagements rest ! Yet at that time, when it was the general opinion of all Europe that the childless sovereign of England, Anne, designed to make, as far as she could, reparation for the wrongs she had done her brother, by appointing him as her successor to the royal inheritance in which she had supplanted him, few people would have despised a bond for a sum of money, however large, payable at such a day. “ I have left also,” continues the queen, “ in my will, wherewithal to make a most beautiful restoration for the great altar of the church of the said monastery of Chaillot, dedicated to the Holy Virgin, or a fine tabernacle, if they should like it better; and also I have left for a mausoleum, to be made for the heart of the king, my lord and husband. “ And I engage and promise, in the meantime, to pay to the said monastery the sum of three thousand livres a year for the time to come, counting from the 1st of April, 1712 ; but if, through the bad state of my affairs, I should not be able to pay the said annual sum for the future, or only to pay in part, I will reckon all that I fail in as a debt, which shall augment and add to the fifty thousand francs which I owe u 2 292 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ 1712 . already, to be paid at the same time, which he [her son] will understand, for all the vears that I may remain in France. “ Marie, K.” ^ The presentiment that death was about to visit her own melancholy palace, which had haunted Mary Beatrice ever since she had wept with Louis XIV., thrice in a few brief days, over the stricken hopes of gay Versailles, was doomed to be but too sadly realized, but not, as she had imagined, on herself. She, the weary pilgrim who had travelled over nearly half a century of woe, and had carried in her mortal frame for the last twelve years the seeds of death, was spared to weep over the early grave of the youngest^born and most hopeful of her children, her bright and beautiful Louisa. On Easter- Wednesday, March 29, Mary Beatrice visited Chaillot with her daughter, who was then in blooming health. The nuns told their royal visitors a piteous tale of the damage their house had sustained by the dreadful storm of December 11, two days after their last visit. Her majesty listened with great concern, regretted her inability to aid them as she could wish, but promised to do her best in representing their case to others. “ At four o’clock the following day, the chevalier de St. George, who had been hunting in the Bois de Boulogne, came here,” says our Chaillot chronicler, ‘‘inquest of the queen. He behaved with much courtesy to our mother, thanking her for the prayers she had made for him at all times, and for the care she had taken of the queen, his mother, and the consolation she had been to her. He appeared a little indisposed that day, but returned to St. Germains in the evening, with the queen and the princess.” Two days afterwards he was attacked with the smallpox,^ to the inexpressible dismay of Mary Beatrice, who knew how fatal that dreadful malady had, in many instances, proved to the royal house of Stuart. The princess Louisa was inconsolable at the idea of her brother's danger, but felt not the slightest apprehension of infection for b'^vself. On the 10th of April the malady appeared visibly on her, while she was at her toilet. The distress of the queen may be imagined. The symptoms of the princess were at first favourable, so that hopes were entertained that not only her life, but even her beauty would be spared. Unfortunately the practice of bleeding in the foot was resorted to in her case, and the effects were fatal. The last and most interesting communication that ever took place between Mary Beatrice and her beloved daughter, was recorded verhatim from the lips of the disconsolate mother, by one of the nuns of Chaillot, who has thus indorsed the paper containing the particulars : — “ The queen of England, this 12th of October, was pleased herself to repeat to us the words which the princess, her daughter, said to her, and ^ 1 Chaillot MSS, 2 Memorials, by a nun of Chaillot. 1712 .] Death of the princess Louisa. 29?» they were written down in her majesty’s chamber this evening, at six o’clock.” ^ Thus we see, that six months elapsed ere Mary Beatrice could bring herself to speak of what passed in the holy privacy of that solemn hour, when, after the duties enjoined by their church for the sick had been performed, she came to her dying child and asked her how she felt. “ Madam,” replied the princess, “ you see before you the happiest person in the world. I have just made my general confession, and I have done my best to do it ; so that if they were to tell me that I should die now, I should have nothing more to do. I resign myself into the hands of God ; I ask not of him life, but that his will may be accom- plished on me.” — “ My daughter,” replied the queen, “ I do not think I can say as much. I declare that I entreat of God to prolong your life, that you may be able to serve him, and to love him better than you have yet done.” — “ If I desire to live, it is for that alone,” responded the princess, fervently. But the tenderness of earthly affections came over the heavenward spirit, and she added, “and because I think I might be of some comfort to you.” At five o'clock the next morning, Monday, April 18, they told the queen that the princess was in her agony. She would have risen to go to her, but they prevented her by force. The princess expired at nine. At ten, the heavy tidings were announced to her majesty by p^re Gaidar, her departed daughter’s spiritual director, and pere Ruga, her own.^ Bitter as the trial was, Mary Beatrice bore it with the resignation of a Christian mother, who believes that the child of her hopes and prayers has been summoned to a brighter and better world. The prince, her son, was still dangerously ill. Grief for the departed, and trembling apprehension for the last surviving object of maternal love and care, brought on an attack of fever, which confined her to her bed for several days. Meantime, it was generally reported that the prince was either dying or dead. Much anxiety was expressed on his account in some of the mysterious Jacobite letters of the period ; deep regret for the loss of the princess, and general sympathy for the afflicted mother, touched every heart in which the leaven of political animosity or polemic bitter- ness had not quenched the sweet spirit of Christian charity and pity. In one of the letters of condolence from some person in the court of queen Anne, apparently to the countess of Middleton, on the death of the princess Louisa, the writer says ; — “You cannot imagine how generally she is lamented, even by those who have ever been enemies to her family. I and mine have so shared in your loss, that we thought our sorrows could have no addition when I Translated from the original French of other curious contemporary recoras, at the the tinpublished docurtient in the private ar- dissolution of tlie royal foundation of the chives of the kingdom of France, in the hotel convent of the Visitation ol St. Mary of dc Suubise, where il wast transferred, with Ciiaillot. 2 294 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ 1712 . we heard your chevalier was recovered ■: but now we find our mistake, for since we had yours to my daughter Jenny, ^tis said at court he is despaired of, and on the Exchange, that he is dead ; that he ate too much meat, and got a cold with going out too soon. If this be true, all honest people will think no more of the world, for sure never were mortals so unfortunate as we I beg you will make our con- doling compliments, for to write it myself to youi mistress is only tormenting her now ; but pray assure her I grieve for her loss, and the sense I am sure she has of it, to a degree not to be expressed, but felt with true affection and duty . I do not question but you must guess at the concern my sisters were in when we received the news of your loss. Upon my word I was stupefied at it, and cannot help being still anxious for the bi'other’s health, notwithstanding your assurances of his recovery, for we have so many cruel reports about him, that it is enough to make us distracted. Pray assure his afflicted mother of my most humble duty. God in heaven send her comfort, for she wants it : nothing but her goodness could resist such a stroke.” ^ Among the letters to the court of St. Germains, in which real names are, as usual, veiled under quaint and fictitious ones — a flimsy pre- caution at that time, when the real persons intended must have been obvious to every official of the British government into whose hands these missives might chance to fall — there is one really curious from Sheffleld duke of Buckingham,^ which is supposed to convey the ex- pression of queen Anne’s sympathy for the illness of her unfortunate brother, and her regret for the death of her young lovely sister. Another, I from some warm friend of the exiled family, well known of course to the party to whom it was addressed, is in reply to a communication that the chevalier was out of danger. “ Dear Sir, “ Hannah [Mr. Lilly] says, yours of the 29th was the joyfullest her eyes ever saw ; for it restored her to life after being dead about a week, but not to perfect health, for her dear Lowder [the princess], and her heart bleeds for poor Quaile [the queen].” ^ The heart of the princess Louisa Stuart was enshrined in a silver urn, and conveyed to the convent of Chaillot, where it was presented, with an elegant Latin oration, to the abbess and community of the Visitation of St. Marie of Chaillot. They received it with great solemnity and many tears, and placed it, according to the desire of the deceased princess, in the tribune, beside those of her royal father, king James IL, and her grandmother, queen Henrietta Maria. Her body Avas 1 In Macpherson’s Stuart Papers, from under which he figures in the secret Jacobite Nairne. correspondence, is “ Matthew.” 2 The husband of the daughter of James II., 3 jn Macpheioon’s Stuart Papers, from hy the countess of Dorchester. He was queen Nairne, Anne’s chamberlain. The political alias 1712 .] Deatli-hlow of the royal Stuart cause, 295 deposited, by that of her father, in the church of the English Benedic- tines, in the rue de St. Jacques, Paris, there to remain, like his, unburied, till the restoration of the royal Stuarts to the throne of Great Britain, when it was intended to inter them in Westminster-abbey. The death of the princess Louisa was the greatest misfortune that could have befallen the cause of the house of Stuart, of which she was considered the brightest ornament, and it also deprived her brother of an heiress-presumptive to his title, for whose sake much more would have been ventured than for himself, while her ardent devotion to his interest precluded any apprehension of attempts at rivalry on her part. There is a very fine three-quarter length original portrait of this princess in the possession of Walter Strickland, esq., of Sizergh- castle, the gift of queen Mary Beatrice to lady Strickland. She is there represented in the full perfection of her charms, apparently about eighteen or nineteen years of age. Nothing can be more noble than her figure, or more graceful than her attitude; she is gathering orange-blossoms in the gardens of St. Germains. This occupation, and the royal mantle of scarlet velvet, furred wuth ermine, which she wears over a white satin dress, trimmed with gold, have caused her to be mistaken for the bride of the chevalier de St. George; but she is easily identified as his sister* by her likeness to him, her other portraits, and her medals. In fact, the painting may be known at a glance for a royal Stuart and a daughter of Mary Beatrice d’Este, although her complexion is much fairer and brighter, and her eyes and hair are of a lively nut-brown tint, instead of black, which gives her more of the English, and less of the Italian character of beauty. She bears a slight family likeness, only with a much greater degree of elegance and delicacy of outline, to some of the early portraits of her elder sister, queen Mary II. Mary Beatrice received visits of sympathy and condolence on her sad loss from Louis XIY. and madame de Maintenon. The latter says, in one of her letters, “ I had the honour of passing two hours with the queen of England: she looks the very image of desolation. Her daughter had become her friend and chief comfort. The French at St. Germains are as disconsolate for her loss as the English ; and, indeed, all who knew her loved her most sincerely. She was truly cheerful, afi'able, and anxious to please, attached to her duties, and fulBlling them all without a murmur.” The first confidential letter written by Mary Beatrice, after the afflict- ing dispensation which had deprived her of the last sunshine of her wintry days, is dated May 19, 1712; it is addressed to her friend Angelique Priolo. It commences with a congratulatory compliment to that religieuse on her re-election to her third triennial as superior of the convent of Chaillot, but the royal writer quickly passes to a subject of deeper, sadder interest to herself — the death of her child. It is not 296 Mary Beatrice of Modena, L^Vis. always in the power of an historian to raise the veil that has hidden the treasured grief of a royal mother’s heart from the world, and after nearly a century and a half have passed away since the agonizing pulses of that afflicted heart have been at rest, and its pangs forgotten, to place the simple record of her feelings before succeeding generations in her own pathetic words. The holy resignation of the Christian renders the maternal anguish of the fallen queen more deeply interesting ; she shall speak for herself : ^ — “But what shall I say to you, my dear mother, of that beloved daughter whom God gave to me, and hath now taken away ? Nothing beyond this, that, since it is he who hath done it, it becomes me to be silent, and not to open my mouth unless to bless his holy name. He is the master, both of the mother and the children ; he has taken the one and left the other, and I ought not to doubt but that he has done the best for both, and for me also, if I knew how to profit by it. Behold the point, for, alas ! I neither do as I say, nor as God requires of me, in regard to his dealings with me. Entreat of him, my dear mother, to give me grace to enable me to begin to do it. I cannot thank you suffi- ciently for your prayers, both for the living and the dead. I believe the latter are m a state to acknowledge them before God, for in the dis- position he put into my dear girl at the commencement of her malady to prepare herself for death, I have every reason to hope that she enjoys, or soon will enjoy, his blessedness with our sainted king ; and that they will obtain for me his grace, that so I may prepare to join them when, and where, and how it shall please the Master of all things in his love to appoint.” The poor queen goes on to send messages of affectionate remembrance I to the sisters of Chaillot, whose kind hearts had sorrowed for her, and with her, in all her afflictions during her four-and- twenty years of exile and calamity ; but more especially in this last and most bitter grief, in which, indeed, they had all participated, since the princess Louisa had been almost a daughter of their house. The queen names two of the nuns, Marie Gabrielle and Marie Henriette, and says : — “ I shall never forget, in all my life, the services wfflich the last has rendered to my dear daughter, nor the good that she has done her soul, although the whole of our dear community have contributed to that which would oblige me, if it were possible, to redouble my friendship for them all.” The hapless widow of James II. adverts, in the next place, to another bitter trial, which she knew was in store for her — that of parting with her son, now her only surviving child. Ever since the commencement of the negotiations for the peace between England and France, it had 1 I'he original, written in French, is preserved among the Chaillot collection, in the hotel de Soubise, Paris. 1712 .] Utter desolation of the exiled queen, 297 been intimated to the chevalier de St. George that it was necessary he should withdraw from St. Germains, in the first instance, and finally from the French dominions. In consequence of his dangerous illness and debility, and the indulgence due to the feelings of poor Mary Beatrice on account of her recent bereavement, a temporary delay had been permitted. He now began to take the air and gentle exercise on horseback daily, and it was considered that he would soon be strong enough to travel. “ I know not,” continues her majesty, “ when the king my son will set out, nor whither I shall go, but his departure will not be before the first week in the next month. When I learn more about it I will let you know, for I intend to come to Chaillot the same day that he goes from here, since, if I am to find any consolation during the few days which remain to me, I can only hope for it in your house. “ M. K.” When Mary Beatrice visited Louis XIY. at Marli for the first time after the death of her daughter, the heartless ceremonials of state etiquette were alike forgotten by each, and they wept together in the fellowship of mutual grief, “because,” as the disconsolate mother after- wards said, when speaking of the tears they shed at this mournful inter- view, “ we saw that the aged were left, and death had swept away the young.” ^ All the pleasure, all the happiness, of the court of Versailles expired with the amiable dauphin and dauphiness : the death of the princess Louisa completed the desolation of that of the exiled Stuarts. Mary Beatrice endeavoured to calm her grief by visiting the monastery of La Trappe with her son, but confessed that she had not derived any internal consolation ^ from passing two days in that lugubrious retreat. On her return to St. Germains, the royal widow added the following codicils to the paper containing her testamentary acknowledgments of her debts to the convent of Chaillot : — “ I declare, also, that my intention and will is, that the thousand livres which I have left in my testament to lady Henrietta Douglas, who has been a nun professed in the monastery of the Visitation of St. Marie de Chaillot, and who bears there the name of sister Marie Paule, be paid to the said monastery, notwithstanding the decease of the said sister Marie Paule Douglas. “ Mauie, R. “ Done at St. Germains, this 7th of July, 1712. “ I have left also in my will for the said monastery to found a perpetual mass for the repose of my soul, and those of the king my lord and my dear daughter. “ Makie, K." A rent which appears in the sheet of paper on which the poor queen has endeavoured to provide for the payment of her debt to the convent of Chaillot, is thus naively explained by herself in the following notifi- cation : — ** It is I who by accident have torn this paper, but I will that it have effect throughout, notwithstanding. “ Makie, R.” 3 1 MS. Memorials of Mary Beatrice, by a abbess of Chaillot. 3 MS. Memorials nun of Chaillot, ol Mary Beatrice, by a nun of Chaillot. 2 Autograph letters of Mary Beatrice to the 298 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1712. It was not till the 28 th of July that Mary Beatrice could summon up sufficient resolution to visit her friends at Chaillot ; the sight of the nuns who had been accustomed to wait on her and the princess Louisa during their long sojourn in the convent in the preceding year, renewed her anguish. She uttered a bitter cry, and exclaimed, “ Oh ! but this visit is different from my last. But God is the master : it is he that hath done it, and his holy name be for ever blessed.”^ When she entered, she sat down by the princess de Conde, who had come, like herself, to assist at the profession of a nun. The community retired, and she consented to see her friends, Francoise Angelique and Claire Angelique, for a few moments, but nothing seemed to give her consolation. The probationer, Marie Helena Vral, who was about to make her irrevocable vow, came to speak to her majesty, and said she would pray for her while she was under the black pall. “ Bray only that God’s holy will may be done,” said the afflicted mother. When the profession was over, Mary Beatrice composed herself sufficiently to give audience to the Spanish ambassador, and some others who desired to pay their compli- ments to her. She afterwards insisted on visiting the tribune, where the heart of her lost darling was now enshrined, beside that of her lamented lord king James. The sight of those mournful relics, thus united, I'eiiewed all her agonies, and it was with difficulty that the nuns could draw her from the spot. When she was at last induced to return to her apartment, the princess de Conde endeavoured to persuade her to take her tea ; but her grief so entirely choked her, that she could not swallow it, and sickened at each attempt. The same evening, the duchess of Lauzun expressing a great desire to be permitted to see her majesty, Mary Beatrice consented to receive her, and requested her to be seated. The duchess refused the proffered tabouret : seeing that the abbess and several of the nuns, who were present, were sitting, according to custom, on the ground at the end of the room, she went and seated herself in the same lowly position among them. The conversation turned on the virtues and untimely deaths of the dauphin and dauphiness. Mary Beatrice spoke with tender affection , of them both, and discussed their funeral sermons and orations, some of which she praised. When she spoke of the grief of Louis XIV. , and the tears she had shed wdth him for their loss, it renewed her anguish for her more recent bereavement ; sobs choked her voice, and she gave way to a fresh paroxysm of suffocating agony.* After the departure of the duchess de Lauzun she became more composed, and drawing sister Margaret Henrietta, the favourite friend of her beloved daughter, on one side, she told her, that “The only consolation she was capable of feeling for the loss of that dear child was in the remembrance of her virtues. That at first she feared there was much of vanity in her desire of having 1 MS, Memorials of Mary of Beatrice, by a nun of Chaillot. ^ Ibid. 299 1712 .] present to the convent, a funeral oration made for her, as had been done for the late king, her husband, also a circular-letter containing a brief memoir ; but she had consulted her spiritual directors, and they had assured her it was her duty to render to the memory of the princess the honoui’S due to her birth and great virtues.” The royal mother said she wished the circular- letter to appear in the name of the community of Chaillot, but that she would pay all the expenses of printing and paper. The abbess, who was present at the consultation, entirely approved of the idea, and told her majesty that the memorials which sister Henriette had kept of her royal highness would be very serviceable in the design. The sister brought her notes and presented them to her majesty, to whom they were, of course, inexpressibly precious. She received them with mournful satis- faction, and said, “ they would be of great use in the circular-letter or conventual obituary memoir of her daughter.” Mary Beatrice, feeling herself much the worse for the excitement of this agitating day, wished to return to St. Germains. She went aAvay at six o’clock in the evening, much fatigued, and was ill and feverish for several days after her return. “ This day,” records the chronicler of Chaillot, “ lady Strickland of Sizergh came here, bringing with her, as a present from the queen of England to our house, the beautiful petticoat which the king had had manufactured at Lyons during his travels, for the princess his sister.” It had never been worn by her for whom it was purchased, the mourn- ing for the first dauphin not having expired when both courts were plunged into grief and gloom by the deaths of the young dauphin and dauphiness, and their eldest son ; which was followed, only two months afterwards, by that of the young lovely flower of St. Germains. The hellejujpe, after the decease of the princess, became the perquisite of her governess lady Middleton ; the royal mother, however, regarding it as a memorial of the affection of her son for his departed sister, did not wish it to be worn by any other person, but devoted to the decoration of the church where her daughter’s heart was deposited. On her return to St. Germains, she asked lady Middleton what she meant to do with it ? Actuated by a similar delicacy of sentiment, her ladyship replied, ‘‘she wished to present it to the convent of Chaillot, out of respect to the deceased princess.” The queen told her, “ that having a wish to present it herself, she would buy it of her.” Lady Middleton, to humour her royal mistress, consented to receive a small sum for it, that it might be called the queen of England’s gift.^ Such fond conceits served in some measure to divert grief, which otherwise must have destroyed life and reason. * MS. Memorials of Mary Beatrice 300 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1712. CHAPTER XL The next trial that awaited the fallen queen was parting from her son. The chevalier de St. George was compelled to quit St. Germains on the 18 th of August. He went to Livry in the first instance, where a sojourn of a few days was allowed previously to his taking his final departure from France. The same day Mary Beatrice came to indulge her grief at Chaillot. The following pathetic account of her deportment is given by the conventual chronicler : “ The queen of England arrived at half-past seven in the evening, bathed in tears, which made ours flow to see them. ‘ It is the first time,’ said the queen on entering, ‘ that I feel no joy in coming to Chaillot. But, my God !’ added she, weeping, ‘ I ask not consolation, but the accomplishment of thy holy will.’ She sat down to supper, but scarcely ate anything. When she retired to her chamber with the three nuns who waited on her, she cried, as soon as she entered, * Oh ; at last I may give liberty to my heart, and weep for my poor girl.’ She burst into a passion of tears as she spoke : we wept with her. Alas! what could we say to her? She repeated to herself, ‘ My God, thy will be done 1 ’ then mournfully added, ‘ Thou hast not waited for my death to despoil me ; thou hast done it during my life, but thy will be done.’ ” The nuns were so inconsiderate as to mention to the afflicted mother some painful reports that were in circulation con- nected with the death of the princess Louisa, as if it had been Caused rather by the unskilful treatment of her doctors than the disease. “ Alas 1 the poor doctors did their best,” replied her majesty ; “ but, as your king said, they could not render mortals immortal.” ^ The day after her arrival at Chaillot, Mary Beatrice found herself very much indisposed, and her physicians were summoned from St. Germains to her aid ; but their prescriptions did her no good. Her malady was the reaction of severe mental suffering on an enfeebled frame, and the more physic she took, the worse she became. On the morrow, every one was alarmed at the state of debility into which she had sunk, and her ladies said, one to another, “ She will die here.” One of her physicians ordered that the portrait of her daughter, which was on the beaufet with that of the chevalier de St. George, should be removed out of her sight, for the eyes of the bereaved mother were always riveted upon those sweet familiar features.^ The sick queen sent for lady Henrietta Douglas to her bedside, and confided to her a vexation that had touched her sensibly. The funeral oration for the princess Louisa, on which she had set her heart, could not take place. The court of France had signified to her, that it would 1 MS. Memorials of Mary Beatrice. ibid. 301 1712.] Sick and sorrowful, be incompatible with the negotiations into which his most Christian majesty had entered wdth queen Anne, to permit any public allusion to be made to the exiled royal family of England ; therefore it would be impossible for her to enjoy the mournful satisfaction of causing the honours and respect to be paid to her beloved daughter’s memory, which were legitimately due to her high rank as a princess of England, and great-grand-daughter of a king of France. Mary Beatrice had naturally calculated on the powerful appeal that would be made, by the most eloquent clerical orator in Paris, to the sympathies of a crowded congre- gation in allusion to her own desolate state at this crisis, and the mis- fortunes of her son — an appeal which she fondly imagined would be echoed from Paris to London, and produce a strong revulsion of feeling in favour of the Stuart cause. It was for this very reason — the political use that would have been made of this opportunity by the expatriated family of James II., that the French cabinet was compelled to deny the gratification to the royal mother of having a funeral oration made for her departed child. “This mortification, then,” said Mary Beatrice, “ must be added to all the others which I have been doomed to suffer, and my only consolation in submitting to it must be, that such is the will of God.” ^ A needless aggravation to her grief was inflicted on the poor queen at the same time, by the folly of the nuns in continually repeating to her the various malicious reports, that had been invented by some pitiless enemy, relating to the last illness and death of her beloved daughter. It was said, “ that her majesty had compelled the princess to make her last confession, contrary to her wish, to pere Gaillar, because he was a Jesuit ; that she had caused her to be attended, against her inclination, by her brother’s English physician. Dr. Wood ” (who is styled, by our Chaillot authority, “ monsieur Oude ”), “ and that the said Oude had either poisoned her royal highness, or allowed her to die for want of nourishment.” Mary Beatrice observed, “ that it was strange how such unaccountable falsehoods could be spread; that she had allowed her children full liberty in the choice both of their physicians and spiritual directors, from the time they arrived at years of discretion ; that her daughter had earnestly desired to be attended by Dr. Wood, who had done the best for her as regarded human power and skill ; and as for allowing her to sink for want of nourishment, nothing could be more cruelly untrue, for they had fed her every. two hours.” ^ Her majesty having been a good deal excited by this painful discourse, went on to say more in praise of the Jesuits than would be worth recording, and which came, as a matter of course, from the lips of a princess educated under their influence. “ Not,” she said, “ that she was blind to the faults of individuals belonging to the order as an instance of which 1 MS. Memorials of Mary Beatrice ; Chaillot collection. 2 ibid. 302 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1712. she added, “ that the late king, her lord, had caused her great vexation, by giving himself up to the guidance of father Petre, admitting him into his council, and trying to get him made a cardinal ; that the man liked her not, and she had suffered much in consequence, but did not consider that the intemperance and misconduct of one person ought to be visited on the whole company,”^ to which she certainly regarded him as a reproach. Such, then, was the opinion of the consort of James II. of father Petre; such the real terms on which she acknowledged, to her confidential friends of the same church, she stood with that mis- chievous ecclesiastic, with whom she has been unscrupulously repre- sented as leagued in urging the king to the measures which led to his fall. Neither time nor Christian charity was able to subdue the bitterness of her feelings towards the evil counsellor, who had overborne by his violence her gentle conjugal influence, and provoked the crisis which ended in depriving her husband of a crown, and forfeiting a regal inheritance for their son. William, Mary, and Anne, and others who had benefited by the Revolution, she had forgiven, but father Petre she could not forgive ; and this is the more remarkable, because of the pla- cability of her disposition towards her enemies. While she was at Chaillot, some of her ladies, speaking of the duke of Marlborough in her presence, observed, that “ his being compelled to retire into Germany was a very trifling punishment for one who had acted as he had done towards his late master ; and that they could never think of his treachery without feeling disposed to invoke upon him the maledictions of the Psalmist on the wicked.” — “ Never,” exclaimed the fallen queen, “ have I used such prayers as those ; nor will I ever use them.” ^ Her majesty continued sick and sad for several days : she told the nuns, “ she had a presentiment that she should die that year.” Her illness, however, ended only in a fit of the gout ; and at the end of a week, she was up, and able to attend the services of her church at the profession of a young lady, to whom she had promised to give the cross. The ecclesiastic who preached the sermon on that occasion, discoursed much of death, the vanity of human greatness, and the calamities of princes, and created a great sensation in the church by a personal allu- sion to Mary Beatrice and her misfortunes. “ The queen of England,” he said, had given the cross to the probationer without wishing to lose her own ; she had chosen that convent to be her tomb, and had said with the prophet, ‘ Here will I make my rest, and for ever ; here will I live, here will I die, and here will I be buried also.’”^ Every one was alarmed at hearing the preacher go on in this strain, dreading the effect 1 MS, Memorials of Mary Beatrice ; Chail- See Journal of James II. in Macpberson and lot collection. This avowal, recorded from Clarke. the lips of the widow of James II., is con- 2 jyis. Diary of the nun of Chaillot. firmed by his own declaration, “that his queen 3 i^id. was opposed to the counsels of father Petre.’* 303 1712.] Gloomy prospect of her son's affairs, it would have on her majesty in her present depressed state, combined with her presages of death ; but to the surprise of every one, she came smiliug out of the church, and told M. de Sulpice, “ that she thought the preacher had been addressing his sermon to her, instead of the new sister Agathe.” The next day, when her son, who had been alarmed at the report of her illness, came over from Livry to see her, she repe^ed many parts of the discourse to him. The chevalier had been so much indisposed himself since his departure from St. Germains, that he had been bled in the foot ; and being still lame from that operation, he was obliged to lean on his cane for support, when he went to salute his mother as she came out of church. The gout having attacked her in the foot, she too was lame, and walking with a stick also. They both laughed at this coincidence ; yet it was a season of mortification to both mother and son, for the truce with England v/as proclaimed in Paris on the preceding day. They held sad councils together in the queen’s private apartment, on the gloomy prospect of affairs. The abbess said to him, “ Sire, we hope your majesty will do us the honour to dine with us, as your royal uncle king Charles breakfasted, when setting out for England.” — “ That journey will not be yet,” he replied, drily He dined alone with the queen, and returned in the evening to Livry. On the following Friday he came to dine with her again at the convent, dressed in deep mourning for his sister, and went to the opera at Paris in the evening, on purpose to show himself, because the English am- bassador-extraordinary for the peace, St. John lord Bolingbroke, was expected to appear there in state with his suite that night. Of this cir- cumstance, one of the Jacobite party thus writes to a friend : — “ Among other news from France, we are told that lord Bolingbroke happened to be at the opera with the chevalier de St. George, where they could not but see one another. I should like to know what my lord says of that knight, and whether he likes him, for they tell me he is a tall, proper, well-shaped young gentleman ; that he has an air of greatness mixed with mildness and good-nature, and that his counte- nance is not spoiled with the smallpox, but on the contrary, that he looks more manly than he did and is really healthier than he was before.” ^ It was a mistake to suppose that the chevalier de St. George was not marked with the smallpox : that malady marred his countenance in no slight degree, and destroyed his fine complexion. The queen and nuns, it seems, amused themselves after the departure of the chevalier, not in speculating on what impression his appearance was likely to make on the English nobles who might chance to see him, but how far it was consistent with a profession of Christian ifiety to frequent such amuse- ments as operas, comedies, and theatrical spectacles of any kind. Mary 1 MS. Diary of a nuii of Chaillot. 2 Nalrne’s State Papers, in the Scotch college. 304 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ 1712 . Beatrice said, she was herself uncertain about it, for she had often asked spiritually-minded persons to tell her whether it were a sin o*r not, and could get no positive answer ; only the pbre Bourdaloue had said thus far, ‘ that he would not advise Christian princes to suffer their children to go often to such places ; and when they did, to acquaint thimselves first with the pieces that were to be represented, that they might not be of a nature to corrupt their morals.’ ” On the Tuesday following, Mary Beatrice went to Livry to dine with her son ; she was attended by the duchesses of Berwick and Perth, the countess of Middleton, and lady Talbot, lady Clare, and lady Sophia Bulkeley. The duke of Lauzun lent his coach, for the accommodation of those ladies who could not go in that of their royal mistress. The once-stately equipages of that unfortunate princess were now reduced to one great, old-fashioned coach, and the noble ladies who shared her adverse fortunes were destitute of any conveyance, and frequently went out in hired remises,^ Her majesty and her ladies returned to the con- vent at eight o’clock in the evening. The visit to Livry is thus noticed in Sir David Nairne’s private report to one of his official correspon- dents : — “Sept. 1. Wisely [the queen] was here to-day, and dined with Kennedy [the chevalier], who is in better health, and heartier than I ever saw him at Stanley’s [St. Germains].” 2 The chevalier came to dine with his mother again on the Sunday, and the marquis de Torcy had a long conference with him in her majesty’s chamber. When that minister took his leave of him, the chevalier said, “ Tell the king, your master, sir, that I shall always rely on his good- ness. I shall preserve all my life a grateful remembrance of your good offices.” The luckless prince was, nevertheless, full well aware that he had outstaid his welcome, and that he must not linger in the environs of Paris beyond the 7th of that month. He came again to Chaillot on the 6th, to bid his sorrowful mother a long farewell. He was entirely unprovided with money for his journey ; and this increased her distress of mind, for her treasurer, Mr. Dicconson, had vainly endeavoured to prevail on Desmarets, the French minister, through whom her pension was paid, to advance any part of what had been due to her for the last six months.^ The chevalier, true nephew of Charles II., seemed not a whit disquieted at the state of his finances. He thanked the abbess of Chaillot very warmly for the care she had taken of the queen, his mother, and engaged, if ever he should be called to the throne of Eng- land, to make good a broken promise of his late uncle, Charles II., for the benefit of that convent. He talked cheerfully to his mother at dinner, in order to keep up her spirits, and described to the nuns who 1 MS. Memorials. 2 Stuart Papers, in Macpherson. 3 MS. diary of the nun of Chaillot. 1712 .] Her son compelled to leave France, 305 waited upon her, some of the peculiarities of the puritans. The cheva- lier drank tea with her majesty, and when they exchanged their soiTOwful adieus in her chamber, they embraced each other many times with tears ; then went together to the tribune, where the hearts of the late king James and the princess Louisa were enshrined, and there separated. Mary Beatrice wept bitterly at the departure of her son, her last earthly tie; he was himself much moved, and tenderly recommended her to the care of the abbess of Chaillot and the nuns, and especially to father Ruga, to whom, he said, “ he deputed the task of consoling her majesty.” ^ He slept that night at Livry, and commenced his journey towards the frontier the next morning. In three days he arrived at Chalons-sur-Marne, where he was to remain till some place for his future residence should be settled by France and the allies. The negotiations for a general peace were then proceeding at Utrecht ; lord Bolingbroke, during his brief stay at Paris for the arrangement of preliminary articles, had promised that the long-withheld jointure of the widowed consort of James II. should be paid. Mary Beatrice had previously sent in a memorial, setting forth her claims, and the incon- trovertible fact that they had been allowed at the peace of Ryswick, and that the English parliament had subsequently granted a supply for their settlement. Some delicate punctilios required to be adjusted, as to the form in which the receipt should be given by the royal widow without compromising the cause of her son. “ Should the queen,” observes lord Middleton, “ style herself queen-mother, she supposes that it will not be allowed ; should she style herself queen-dowager, that would be a lessening of herself and a prejudice to the king her son, which she would never do. The question is, whether the instrument may not be good without any title at all, only the word we ; for inas- much as it will be signed ‘ Maria, R.,’ and sealed with her seal, one would think the person would be sufSciently denoted. Our council here think she might sign herself thus : Mary, queen-consort of James II., late king of England, Ireland, and France, defender of the faith,” &C.2 The last clause was certainly absurd ; the simple regal signature, “ Maria, R.” was finally adopted, after the long-protracted negotiations were concluded. Mary Beatrice remained at Chaillot, in a great state of dejection, after the departure of her son. The duchess-dowager of Orleans, Elizabeth Charlotte of Bavaria, came to visit her tow^ards the latter end of Sep- tember. Her majesty probably considered herself neglected, at this sad epoch, by other members of the royal family of France, for, tenderly embracing her, she said, “ What, madam ! have you given yourself the trouble of coming here to see an unfortunate recluse?”® Monsieur * MS. Diaiy of the nun of Chaillot. college, printed in Macpherson's Stuart 2 Nairne’s State Papers from the Scotch Papers. ^ jyjs. Memorials of Mary Beatrice. VOL. V. X 306 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [^7^2. and madame de Beauvilliers came soon after to pay their respects to Mary Beatrice : she had a great esteem for them, and they conversed much on spiritual matters and books. Her majesty spoke with lively satisfaction of having received a consolatory letter from Fenelon, arch- bishop of Cambray, in which, without entering into affairs of state or politics, he had said, “ that he prayed the Lord to give the king, her son, all things that were needful for him, and that his heart might be always in the hands of the Most High, to guard and dispose it according to his will.” Although neither wealth nor dominion was included in this petition for her son, the royal mother was satisfied ; better things had been asked. When monsieur and madame St. Sulpice came to pay Mary Beatrice a visit in her retreat, they told her they had heard that the Scotch had made bonfires on the birthday of the chevalier of St. George, and shouted “ God save king James VIII. !” and had burned a figure which' they called the house of Hanover. “ It is true,” replied the queen ; “ and a little time before they burned the prince of Hanover in effigy, but that signifies nothing. Our friends expose themselves too much by it; none of them, however, have been punished.” Mary Beatrice spoke little at this crisis of what was passing in England, but her looks were closely watched. One evening it was observed that she was laughing very much with her ladies over a packet she was reading with them ; she afterwards told the curious sisterhood that it was a paper ridiculing all that had been printed in London about her son. She also told them of a political fan which had a great sale in England, where it was, of course, regarded as a Jacobite badge. The device was merely the figure of a king, with this motto, chacun a son tour. On the reverse, a cornucopia, with the motto peace and plenty. Mary Beatrice spoke very kindly of queen Anne, whom she styled the princess of Denmark, and appeared distressed at the reports of her illness. She requested her friends to pray for her recovery and conversion, adding, “ It w^ould be a great misfortune for us to lose her just now.”^ The circular-letter of the convent of Chaillot on the death of her own lamented daughter, the princess Louisa, being finished, Mary Beatrice wished to be present when it was read. “ She wept much at some passages, but gave her opinion very justly on others, where she con- sidered correction necessary. They had said, ‘ that the princess felt keenly the state to which her family and herself had been reduced by the injustice of fortune.’ — ‘ Ha !’ cried the queen, ‘ but that is not speaking christianly,’ meaning that such figures of speech savoured rather of heathen rhetoric than the simplicity of Christian truth ; the nuns then wrote down — ‘ in which she had been placed by the decrees of Providence.’ ^ That is good,’ said her majesty. She desired them to 1 MS. Diary of a nun of Chaillot. 807 1 7 1 2 . J Recollections of her daughter, alter another passage, in which it was asserted ‘ that the princess was so entirely occupied at all times and places with the love of God, that even when she was at the opera or the play, her whole thoughts were on him, and that she adapted in her own mind the music, songs, and choruses to his praise with internal adoration.’ This, Mary Beatrice said, ‘ would have been very edifying if it had been strictly true; but she thought her daughter was passionately fond of music, songs, and poetry, and took the delight in those amusements which was natural to her time of life, though she was far from being carried away by plea- sures of the kind.’ The nuns appealed to pere Gaillar if it were not so; but he replied, ‘that he could only answer for that part of the letter which he had furnished ; namely, the account of the last sickness and death of her royal highness.’ Mary Beatrice then sent for the duchess de Lauzun, who had been on the most intimate terms of friend- ship with the princess, and asked her what she thought of the passage ? The duchess said, ‘ that if they printed it, it would throw discredit on all the rest; for none who knew the delight the princess had taken in songs and music, and had observed, that when she was at the opera she was so transported with the music that she could not refrain from accompanying it with her voice, would believe that she was occupied in spiritual contemplations on such subjects as life, and death, and eternity.’ Her majesty then desired that the passage should be omitted.” ^ The assertion had doubtless originated from the princess having remarked, that some of the choruses in the opera had reminded her of the chants of her church. In the beginning of October, madame de Maintenon came to pay a sympathizing visit to Mary Beatrice, and testified much regard for her. Her majesty went into the gallery to receive her, and at her departure accompanied her as far as the tribune. Maintenon promised to come again on the 25th of that month, but being prevented by a bad cold, she sent some venison to her majesty, which had been hunted by the king. Mary Beatrice expressed herself, in reply, charmed with the attention of his majesty in thinking of her.^ Madame de Maintenon came quite unexpectedly three days after, and brought with her a basket of beautiful oranges as a present for the queen. She had to wait a long time at the gate, before the abbess, who was with her majesty, could come to receive her. The due d’Aumale, who had accompanied madame de Maintenon, was annoyed at being detained, but she said “ it was the mark of a regular house that there should be a difficulty in obtaining admittance.” Mary Beatrice was much agitated, two days later, by receiving from this lady a hasty letter, apprizing her of the alarming illness of Louis XIV. from cold and inflammation, which rendered it expedient to bleed 1 MS. Diaiy of a nun of Chaillot. 2 X 2 308 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [ 171 ^^- him, an operation never resorted to with persons of his advanced age except in cases of extremity. “ Oh, my God !” exclaimed the queen, when she had read the letter, “ what a calamity for France, for his family, and for us poor unfortunates ! What will become of us ?” She wept bitterly, and her ladies wept with her at the anticipation of losing their only friend and protector, whose existence appeared at that moment inexpressibly precious to the destitute British emigrants, who were solely dependent for food and shelter on the annual pension which he allowed their widowed queen.^ Inadequate as this pittance was for the maintenance of the unfortunate colony at St. Germains, it was ren- dered, by the rigid economy and personal sacrifices of their royal mis- tress, a means of preserving several thousands of the faithful adherents of the cause of the Stuarts from perishing with hunger, and it was doubtful whether this fund would be renewed by a regent, in the event of Louis XIV.’s death. The queen was in too painful a state of excite- ment to eat at dinner. Lady Middleton read to her a chapter out of the Imitation of Christ ; but she sighed heavily, and remained in great depres- sion of spirits. All day she was in anxious expectation of receiving tidings of the king’s health, but having none, she wrote to madame de Maintenon at eight in the evening to make inquiries. The next morn- ing an equerry brought a letter from madame de Maintenon, which reas- sured her. The king had borne the bleeding well, passed a good night, and was out of danger. The gratitude of Mary Beatrice for the shelter and support that had been accorded by Louis to herself, her family, and their distressed fol- lowers, and the scrupulous respect with which he had ever treated her, blinded her to the motives which had led him to confer personal benefits for political ends. How often he had played the part of the broken reed to her unfortunate consort, and disappointed the flattering hopes he had raised in the bosom of her son, she was willing to forget, or to attribute to the evil offices of his ministers. She gave her royal friend credit for all the generous romance of feeling that formed the beau-ideal of the age of chivalry ; the experience of four-and- twenty years of bitter pangs of hope deferred had not convinced her of her mistake. One of the nuns of Chaillot told Mary Beatrice, that she was wrong to imagine every one was as free from deceit as herself. “Your own nature, madam,” said she, “ is so upright and truthful, that you believe the same of the rest of the world, and you do not distrust any one ; but God, who is good, knows the wickedness of human nature, and I could wish that your majesty would sometimes feel the necessity of a prudent mistrust.” — “ It is true,” replied the queen, “ that I never suspect ill, and that I have not the spirit of intrigue that belongs to courts.” — “ Nevertheless, madam,” rejoined the retigieuse, “ your majesty, through 1 MS. Diary of a nun of Chaillot 1712.] Dreads returning to St, Germains. 309 the grace of God, acquired in your adversity a wisdom that all the cunning and intrigue in the world could never have given you — that of conciliating and preserving the aflection and confidence of tlie king your husband.” — “He knew,” said the royal widow, “how much I loved him, and that produced reciprocal feelings in him.” ^ A few days after this conversation, Mary Beatrice said she could not think without pain that the time of her departure from the convent drew near, and that she must return to St. Germains, to that melan- choly and now desolate palace. Her tears began to flow, as she spoke of the loneliness that awaited her there. “ Alas 1” said she, “ picture to yourselves the state in which I shall find myself in that place, where I lost the king, my lord and husband, and my daughter. Now that I am deprived of my son, what a frightful solitude does it appear ! I shall be compelled to eat alone iii public ; and when the repast is ended, and I retire to my cabinet, who will there be to speak to there ? Here I find, at least, a little society. I had hoped to remain here always. I have spoken of it to the peres Kuga and Gaillar only, and I asked pere Ruga to entreat for me enlightenment from God on this subject ; but he has told me I ought not to think of it. I must therefore make the sacri- fice, and leave this retreat on which I had fixed my desire, for it will not be permitted me to enjoy it. I have not,” continued her majesty, “ relied on the opinions of the peres Ruga and Gaillar only. I have consulted madarne Maintenon and the duke of Berwick, and all are of opinion that, in the present position of my son’s affairs, I ought not to retire from the world — in fact, that 1 ought to remain for some time at St. Germains,^ not for any satisfaction that I can find in the world, for I have experienced this very day a severe mortification, which has touched me sensibly.” Mary Beatrice did not explain the circumstance that had annoyed her, but said, “ I have written to the king, my son, about it, and see what he has sent in reply.” She then read the follow- ing passage from the letter she held in her hand : — “ It is not for me, madam, to make an exhortation to your majesty ; that would be great presumption on my part, but you know what St. Augustin says : ‘ Non prevenitur ad summam palem etiam in silentio, nisi cum magno strepitu pugnavit cum motihus suis^ ” “ Which means,” explained her majesty, who appears to have been a better Latin scholar than her friends the nuns, “ that one cannot even find peace in the silence of a cloister, if one does not fight manfully against carnal inclinations.” She did not read any more of the letter, but only said that, “ although her son possessed not such brilliant talents as the princess his sister, he had solid sense ; but my daughter,” continued the fond mother, “ had both the brilliant and the solid. They i MS. Diary of a nun of Chaillot. 2 Ibid. 310 Mary Beatrice of Modena. were united in her, and I may say so without vanity, since she is no more.” The chevalier was an excellent correspondent, and wrote many j^leasant and often witty letters to cheer his sorrowful and anxious mother in his absence. On the 11th of November, lord Galway came to inform Mary Beatrice that he had seen her son as he passed through Chalons ; that he appeared thoughtful, but was very well, and even growing fat, though he took a great deal of exercise, and that he made the tour of the ramparts of that town every day on foot. “ The king his father was accustomed to do the like,” said her majesty, “ and rarely sat down to table till he had taken his walk.” Lord Galway said, that “ the prince bade him tell her that he was much better in health than at St. Germains, and wished she could see him.” — “ It would give me extreme joy to see him again,’’ replied Mary Beatrice, meekly ; “ but I must not desire what is not the will of God.” It was upwards of two months since she had enjoyed that happiness.^ Her majesty afterwards walked with the community to the orangery, and a detached building belonging to this conventual establishment at some little distance in their grounds. She returned vigorously from this promenade without being the least out of breath, and having walked very fast, she asked the nun who had the honour to give her her hand, “ if she had not tired her ?” To which the religieme, being too polite to reply in the affirmative, said, “there were some moments in which she had not felt so strong as usual.” “ Your answer reminds me,” rejoined the queen, playfully, “ of what we say in Italy when any one inquires of another, ‘ Are you hungry ?’ the reply to that question is not ‘ Yes,’ but, ‘ I should have no objection to eat again.’ ” ^ The next day, Mary Beatrice mentioned with great pleasure having received a letter from her aunt, who was then a Carmelite nun. “ She writes to me with the most profound humility,” said her majesty, “ as if she were the least person in the world. I am ashamed to say I have not written to her for a long time. We used to dispute with one another which should be a nun. I was fifteen, and she was thirty, when they first spoke of a marriage with the duke of York, and we each said to the other, in secret, ‘ it will be you that shall be chosen but the lot fell to me.” On the 14th of November, Mary Beatrice found herself weary and indisposed. She had taken one of her bad colds, coughed all the time she was at her toilet, and grew worse towards evening : she had a bad night, with cough and sore throat, and difficulty of breathing. At five in the morning, madame Molza, who slept in her chamber, was alarmed, and called the nun who kept the keys to come and give her opinion. The nun said her majesty was in a high fever, and went to tell the duchess of Perth, who immediately rose, and wrote to St. Germains for * MS. Diary of a nun of Chaillot. * Ibid. 1712 .] Anxiety to discharge unpaid hills in England, 311 her majesty’s physician, and M. Beaulieu, her French surgeon, to come to her. They did not arrive till two in the afternoon, which caused great uneasiness, for the queen grew visibly worse, and her mind was so deeply impressed with the death of her daughter, that she thought her- self to be dying, and those about her had some trouble to compose her. The fever was so high, that it was thought necessary to bleed her, and for two days she was in imminent danger ; she was, besides, in great dejection of spirits,^ “ Her majesty,” says our Chaillot diary, “ was very sad during her sickness, not so much at the idea of death, but because she had not her children near her as on former occasions ; and, above all, it renewed in her remembrance the princess, who had been accustomed, whenever she was ill, to wait upon her as a nurse.” Mary Beatrice had borne the first agony of her bereavement, terrible and un- expected as it was, with the resignation of a 'Christian heroine ; but every day she felt it more acutely, and during her weary convalescence, she pined for her lost treasure with unutterable yearnings. While the poor queen w^as still confined to her chamber, a striking sermon was preached in the conventual church on the love of God, by pere Gramin, in which he said, “ that sometimes three sacrifices were required by our heavenly Father, which he should briefly express in three Latin words, tua^ tuos, te ; that is to say, thy goods, thy children, and thyself.” When this was repeated to Mary Beatrice, she cried, with a deep sigh, “ Small is the sacrifice of tua, or the goods, in comparison to tuos, the children.” On a former occasion she had said, “ Job bore the loss of his goods unmoved ; but when he heard of the loss of his children, he rent his garments, and fell prostrate on the earth.” ^ Mary Beatrice had the consolation of receiving a most affectionate and dutiful letter from her son, expressing the greatest concern for her illness, and begging her “ to take care of her health for his sake, since the most overwhelming of all his calamities would be the loss of her.” The chevalier was still at Chalons-sur-Marne, waiting the event of the negotiations at Utrecht. The payment of two bills of 16,000 francs each, which cardinal Gual- terio had persuaded the queen to hold after she had regarded them as lost money, enabled her to send her son some seasonable pecuniary relief at his greatest need, and also to discharge a few trifling debts of her own in England, of long standing, which had distressed her scni- pulous sense of honesty. The vouchers of the payment of some of these have lately been discovered in the Bodleian library, Oxford. She had been much troubled at having left her shoemaker’s bill in England unpaid, at the time of her hasty emigration in 1688, and after his death made a point that the balance of the account should be paid to his widow or representatives, though nearly thirty years had elapsed. On the first Sunday in Advent, perceiving that all her ladies were 1 MS. Diary of a nun of Chaillot. ^ ibid. 312 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ 1712 . worn out with fatigue, and weary of the monotony of the life they led at Chaillot, and hearing, withal, many complaints of her absence from St. Germains, she at last made up her mind to return thither the next day, Monday, December 5. She gave one thousand francs among the three domestic sisters who had waited upon her in her sickness, and during her long sojourn in the convent. She was very low-spirited at the thought of leaving it ; having coughed very much all night, and in the morning appeared wavering in her purpose ; but, seeing everything prepared for her departure, she was about to make her adieus, when she was informed the due de Lauzun wished to speak to her. It was incon- venient to give audience to any one just as she was setting off on her journey ; but she judged that he had something important to communi- cate, and gave orders to admit him. He was the bearer of evil tidings, for he came to break to her the tragic death of the duke of Hamilton,' who had been slain in a duel with lord Mohun, not without strong suspicions of foul play on the part of his antagonist’s second, general Macartney. The duke of Hamilton was at that time the main pillar of her son’s cause in Scotland ; he was in correspondence with herself, had just been appointed ambassador to the court of France, secretly em- powered, it has generally been supposed, by queen Anne, to make arrangements with the court of St. Germains for the adoption of the exiled prince as her successor, on condition of his remaining quiet during her life, little doubt existing of the duke being able, by his great interest in parliament, to obtain the repeal of the act of settlement for the royal succession. The queen was deeply affected by the melancholy news, and the ladies Perth and Middleton wept bitterly. It was a great blow to the whole party, and cast a deeper gloom on their return to the desolate palace of St. Germains.* Her majesty’s chair being brought into the gallery, for she was still too feeble to walk, she prepared to enter it, after she had taken some bread in a little broth ; but seeing one of the community, who had waited on her while she was in the convent, she presented her hand to her, and said, “ I console myself with the hope of your seeing me again here very soon, if it please God.” She was carried into the tribune, where the community attended her, and having made her devotions there, she was conveyed in a chair to her coach. Mary Beatrice arrived at St. Germains at two o’clock in the afternoon. The interests of her son required that she should stifle her own private feelings, and endeavour to maintain a shadow of royal state, by holding her courts and receptions with the same ceremonies, though on a smaller scale, as if she had been a recognised queen-mother of England. How well did the words of the royal preacher, “ Vanitas vanitatisf which were so often on the lips of that pale, tearful Niobe, who, in her widow’s MS. Diary of a nun of Chaillot. 2 Ibid. 1713.] Her melancholy Christmas at St, Germains. 313 coif and veil, and sable weeds of woe, occupied the chair of state on these occasions, describe the mockery of the attempt ! The melancholy Christmas of 1712 was rendered more distressing to Mary Beatrice by the intrigues and divisions that agitated her council, and the suspicions that were instilled into the mind of her absent son of his mentor, the earl of Middleton, who had accompanied him from St. Germains to Chalons, and acted as his principal adviser. The old story, that he was bribed by the court of St. James to betray the state secrets of the exiled Stuarts, and had been in the practice of doing this ever since the death of James II., was revived, though without any sort of proof, and all the misfortunes and failures that had occurred were charged on his mismanagement and treachery.^ It was also stated, that he had neglected the interests of the Stuart cause in Scotland, and had promoted, instead of opposing, the union. Middleton justified himself from those charges, but indignantly offered to withdraw from his trouble- some and profitless office. Mary Beatrice, having a great esteem for this statesman, and a particular friendship for his countess, was very uneasy at the idea of his resignation. Her principal adviser at this time appears* to have been the abbe Innes, who, in one of the mystified letters of that period, thus writes on the subject : — “Paris, Jan. 9, 1713. “ I never was more surprised than when the queen showed me some letters the king had sent her about Mr. Massey [lord Middleton], and the more I think of it, the more I am convinced that villany must proceed originally either from the Irish, to remove one whom they look upon as ^ none of their friends, to make way for one of their friends, or else that it is a trick of the whigs to ruin Jonathan [the king], by insinuating a correspondence with them to give jealousy to the other party, and by that means to deprive Jonathan of the only person capable of giving him advice.’’ Mary Beatrice took upon herself the office of mediating between her son and their old servant, Middleton, whose wounded feelings she, not unsuccessfully, endeavoured to soothe in the following letter : — “St. Germains, Jan. 28, 1713. “ I have not had the heart all this while to write to you upon the dismal subject of your leaving the king, but I am sure you are just enough to believe that it has and does give to me a great deal of trouble ; and that which I see it gives the king, increases mine. You tell me in your last letter upon Mr. Hamilton’s coming away, that if your opinion had been followed you had gone first, but if mine were, you should never go first nor last. But, alas ! I am grown so insignificant and useless to my friends, that all I can do is to pray for them, and God knows my 1 Stuart Papers in Maepherson, and in the Bibliothdque du Roi. 314 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1713. poor prayers are worth but little. I own to you, that as weary as I am of the world, I am not yet so dead to it as not to feel the usage the king and I meet with. His troubles are more sensible to me than my own ; and if all fell only on me, and his affairs went well, and he were easy, I think I could be so too ; hut we must take what God sends, and as he sends it submit ourselves entirely to his will, which I hope in his mercy he will give us grace to do, and then in spite of the world all will turn to our good.” ^ It can scarcely be forgotten, that the princess of Orange, when her sister Anne was endeavouring to inveigle her into the conspiracy for de- priving their infant brother of the regal succession, by insinuating that he was a spurious child, feeling dubious whether she ought to credit so monstrous a charge without inquiring into the evidences of his paternity, propounded, among other queries which she sent to Anne, the simple but important question, “ Is the queen fond of him ?” 2 Anne, being an interested witness, replied evasively. Nature, who cannot equivocate, has answered unconsciously to the test, in the unaffected gush of maternal tenderness with which Mary Beatrice speaks of her son to lord Middleton imthis letter : she says : — “ You told me, in one of your former letters, that you were charmed with the king being a good son. What do you think, then, that I must be, that am the poor old doating mother of him ? I do assure you, his kindness to me is all my support under God.” ^ Marry ! but our unfortunate Italian queen, on whose ignorance some historians have been pleased to enlarge, could write plain English with the same endearing familiarity as if it had been her mother-tongue. “ Our hissing, growling, grunting northern gutturals,” had become sweeter to her ear than the silvery intonations of her own poetic land, and flowed more naturally to her pen. English was the language of those she loved best on earth — the unforgotten husband of her youth, and their children. Of the last surviving of these, “ the Pretender,” she thus continues in her letter to his offended minister, the earl of Middleton : — “ And I am confirmed of late more than ever in my observation, that the better you are with him, the kinder he is to me ; but I am also charmed with him for being a good master, and a true friend to those who deserve it of him, though I am sorry from my heart that you have not had so much cause of late to make experience of it. “ I say nothing to you of business, nor of Mr. Hamilton, for I write all I know to the king, and it is to no purpose to make repetitions. I expect, with some impatience, and a great deal of fear, Humphrey’s decision as to France.” The meaning of this enigmatical sentence is, whether queen Anne > Stuart Papers, in Macpherson. rymple’s Appendix. 2 Correspondence of the princess of Orange ^ Stuart Paj)ers, in Macpherson. and princess Anne of Denmark, in Dal- 315 1 71 3. J Matrimonial jorosjpects of her son, would permit the chevalier de St. George to avail himself of the asylum which the duke of Lorraine had offered him in his dominions. This was in the end privately allowed by her, and publicly protested against by her ministers. Mary Beatrice writes again to the earl of Middleton on the 9th of February ; she had succeeded in prevailing on him to continue with her sou, and she says many obliging and encouraging things to him in this letter, which is however, dry, and chiefly on public business. She there speaks of their secret correspondent, Bolingbroke, by the appropriate cognomen of “ Prattler,”^ and certainly appears to set very little account on his flattering professions. The position of the son of James II. appeared by no means in so bad a light to the potentates of Europe at this period as it did to the despond- ing widow, who sat in her companionless desolation at St. Germains watching the chances of the ix>litical game. The emperor, though he had publicly demurred for nearly three months whether he would or would not grant the chevalier a passport to travel through part of his dominions to Bar-le-duc, secretly entertained overtures for connecting the disin- herited prince with his own family by a marriage with an archduchess. The tender age of his daughter, who was only twelve years old, was ob- jected by his imperial majesty as an obstacle to her union with a prince in his five-and-twentieth year, but he politely intimated, at the same time, that his sister was of a more suitable time of life.^ Queen Anne’s ill health at this period, the unsettled state of parties in England, and the lingering affection of the people to hereditary succession, rendered an alliance with the representative of the royal Stuarts by no means unde- serving of the attention of the princesses of Europe. The chevalier did not improve the opening that had been made for him by his generous friend, the duke of Lorraine, with the court of Vienna. His thoughts appear to have been more occupied by the forlorn state of his mother, than with matrimonial speculations for himself. The manner in which he speaks of this desolate princess, in the letter he addressed to Louis XIV. on the eve of his final deparature from his dominions, is interesting.- After expressing his grateful sense of the kindness he and his family had experienced from that monarch, he says : — “ It is with all possible earnestness that I entreat of your majesty a continuation of it for me and the queen my mother, the only person who is left of all who were dearest to me, and who deserves so much of me as the best of mothers.” * In writing to Louis XIV. alone, the chevalier would have done little for his mother ; he was aware that, to render her asylum secure, he must pay no less attention to the untitled consort by whom the counsels of the aged monarch of France were influenced, and with equal earnest- I vStnart Papers, in Macpherson. respondonce with the Emperor, * Stuart Papers. Duke of Lorraine’s Cor- ^ the archives of b'laiice. 316 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ 1713 . ness recommended her to the friendship of madame de Maintenon in a com- plimentary billet.^ Madame de Maintenon was so well pleased with this mark of attention, that the next time she saw queen Mary Beatrice, although she made no remark on the letter addressed to herself, she set her majesty’s heart at rest as to the impression produced by that which he had sent to Louis XIV. by saying, “ The king, your son, madam, has combined, in writing to his majesty [the king of France], the elegance of an academician, the tenderness of a son, and the dignity of a king.” 2 The royal mother, who had been sent copies of these letters by her son, could not refrain from reading them, in the pride of her heart, to the community at Chaillot. The abbess and her nuns extolled them to the skies, and begged her majesty to allow them to be transcribed and placed among the archives of their house. Mary Beatrice expressed some reluc- tance to do so, observing, ‘‘ that in the present critical position of her son’s affairs, it might be attended with injurious consequences, if letters so strictly private found their way into print.” She added, significantly, ‘‘ that she had been much annoyed at seeing some things published in the Dutch Gazette, not being able in any manner to imagine how the information was obtained.” This was certainly throwing out a delicate hint that her confidence had not been held sacred by some of the mem- bers of that community ; nevertheless, she was persuaded to allow copies of her son’s letters, both to the king of France and madame de Main- tenon, to be taken. These have been so carefully preserved, that they have survived the dissolution of the convent. Mary Beatrice spent the residue of this melancholy winter, the first she had passed without her children, at St. Germains. Her only comfoi-t was hearing from her son that he had been honourably and affectionately received at the court of Lorraine by the duke and duchess, who were both related to him. The duchess of Lorraine, being the daughter of the late duke of Orleans by Elizabeth Charlotte, grand-daughter of the queen of Bohemia, inherited a portion of the Stuart blood, through her descent from James 1. She took the most lively interest in her exiled kinsman, and did everything in her power to render his sojourn at Bar- le-duc agreeable. Mary Beatrice writes to her friend the abbess of Chaillot, on the 20th of March, a letter commencing with excuses for being an indifferent correspondent, because the frequent and long letters she wrote to her son took up all her time. Her majesty had been making a small but acceptable present to one of the nuns, for she says : “lam glad sister M. Gabrielle found the tea good, but surely that trifling gift did not merit so eloquent a letter of thanks.” Mary Beatrice describes her own health to be better than usual, expresses herself well pleased I In the archives of France ; Chaillot collection. 2 MS. Memorials. 1713 .] The peace of Utrecht, 317 with the general bulletin lady Strickland had brought of the health of the convent, and then says : — “ The king, my son, continues well at Barr, where the duke of Lor- raine shows him all sorts of civilities. I recommend him earnestly to your prayers, my dear mother, and to those of your dear daughters. He requires patience, courage, and prudence, and above all, that God should confirm him in the faith, and give him grace never to succumb to the temptations with which he will be assailed by his enemies, visible and invisible.” ^ Before the proclamation of the peace of Utrecht, Mary Beatrice sought the welcome repose of her favourite retreat at Chaillot. “ The queen of England,” says the diary of that convent, “ came here on the 5th of May, 1713 ; she arrived at four o’clock in the afternoon, and testified much joy at finding herself at Chaillot once more. She asked our mother the news of the house, and inquired particularly after all the sisters. While they were preparing her majesty’s table, she came into the ante-chamber herself, to speak to the two domestic sisters, Claire Antoinette and J. M., who were accustomed to serve her. The next day, being very cold, she congratulated herself on having come as she did, for they would never have permitted her to leave St. Germains in such weather, lest it should make her ill ; and she repeated many times, ‘ that she was surprised at finding herself in such good health as she had been for the last six months, considering all she had suffered.’ On the Sunday after her arrival, her majesty said, ‘ she had prayed to God that he would make her feel his consolations, so that she might say with the royal prophet, “ In the multitude of sorrows that I had in my heart, thy comforts have refreshed my soul but that,’ added she, ‘ is what I have not experienced ; the Lord does not make me taste his sweetness.’ She told the nuns, ‘ that since the departure of her son she had no one to whom she could open her heart, a deprivation which she had felt as peculiarly hard ; yet,’ added she, ‘ in losing the persons to whom one is accustomed to unburden our hearts, we lose also some opportunities of displeasing God by our complaints, and acquire the power of passing days without speaking of those subjects that excite painful emotions.’” This was, indeed, a degree of Christian philosophy to which few have been able to attain. It must be owned, that Mary Beatrice strove to improve the uses of adversity to the end for which they were designed by him who chastens those he loves. The moment at length arrived, long dreaded by the sympathizing com- munity of Chaillot, when the abbess was compelled to tell their afflicted guest, that a solemn Te Deum was appointed to be sung in their church, as well as all others throughout France, on the day of the Ascension, on account of the peace — that peace which had been purchased by the 1 From the original French holograph letters of Mary Beatrice, in the archives of France. 818 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [171 3. sacrifice of her son, and had poured the last phial of wrath on her devoted head hy driving him from St. Germains, and depriving him of the nominal title with which he had hitherto been complimented hy the monarchs of France and Spain.^ The intimation regarding the le Deum was received hy Mary Beatrice without a comment. She knew that it was a matter in which the abbess had no choice, and she endeavoured to relieve her embarrassment by turning the conversation. Her majesty said afterwards, “ that a printed copy of the treaty had been sent to her, hut she had not then had time to read it, as it was so bulky a document ; and she tx)ld lady Middleton to open it, who looked for what concerned her, and made no further search.” On the evening of the 28th, the queen asked the nun who waited on her, ‘‘ If she had seen the paper that was on the chimney-piece ?” — I have not had courage to look at it,” was the reply. “ Ah, welll” said the queen, “ then I must for you and raising herself in the bed, where she was resting her exhausted frame, she put on her spectacles, and began to read it aloud. It was a copy of the treaty. When her majesty came to the fourth and fifth articles, which stated “ that, to insure for ever the peace and repose of Europe and of England, the king of France recognised for himself and his successors the Protestant line of Hanover, and engaged that he who had taken the title of king of Great Britain shall remain no longer in France,” &c., she paused, and said, with a sigh, The king of France knows whether my son is unjustly styled king or not ; I am sure he is more grieved at this than we can be.” The nun in waiting remained speechless, and the queen resumed, “ Hard necessity has no law. The king of France had no power to act otherwise, for the English would not have made peace on any other con- dition. God will take care of us : in him we repose our destinies.” She added, that the king, her son, had sent word to her ‘ that his hope was in God, who would not forsake him when every other power abandoned him.’ ” - The next morning she maintained her equanimity, and even joined in the grace-chant before dinner. The nun who was present when she read the treaty on the preceding evening, drew near, and said, “ Madam, I am astonished at the grace God has given you, in enabling you to appear tranquil ; for my part, I was struck with such consternation at what I heard, that I could not sleep. Was it not so with you No, I assure you,” said the queen ; “ I have committed everything to God : he knows better what is good for us than we do for ourselves.” She ate as usual, and manifested no discomposure, even when her ladies came on the following day, and told her of the general rejoicings that were made in England for the peace.* i The peace was signed March 30 by the 2 inedited MS. Memorials by a nun of plenipotentiaries at U trecht, but not solemnly Chaillot. ratified for several weeks after that date. It 2 Hjid. was proclaimed in London May 6, 1713. 319 1713 .] Her resignation, A few days afterwards, Mary Beatrice told the nuns “ that her son had sent a protest to the plenipotentiaries at Utrecht against the articles of the treaty, as regarded England, and had asserted his title to that crown, which had been retorted by the cabinet of St. James addressing an atrocious libel to the same congress, complaining ‘ that an impostor like the Pretender was permitted to remain so near as Bar-le-duc.’ ” She related this with emotion, but without anger. The sympathizing com- munity said all they could to console her, telling her the cause of her son was in the hands of God, who would, they hoped, soon restore him to the throne of his forefathers. “ If it be God’s pleasure to do so, may his will be accomplished !” replied the queen. She said, “ that she had received an address from Edinburgh, professing the faithful attachment of the Scotch to the house of Stuart ; that Scotland and Ireland were both well disposed, but in want of a leader.” ^ When Mary Beatrice found that the allied powers had agreed to compensate the elector of Bavaria for the loss of a part of his German territories by making him king of Sardinia, while the duke of Savoy was in his turn to receive more than an equiva- lent for his Sardinian province by the acquisition of the crown of Sicily, she said, wuth a sigh, “ Thus we find, that every one recovers his goods, in one shape or other, at this peace, but nothing is done for us ; yet, my God !” added she, raising her eyes to heaven, “ it is thy will that it should be so, and what thou wiliest must always be right.” Being informed, subsequently, that the duke of Savoy was about to embark to take possession of his new kingdom of Sicily, she said : “ Those who have kingdoms, lose them, and those who had not, acquire them through this peace ; but God rules everything, and must be adored in all he decrees.” The duchess of Savoy had written to her in terms expressive of much affection and esteem, on which Mary Beatrice observed, “ that she was very grateful for her regard, but she could not have the pleasure of recognising the duke of Savoy as king of Sicily, because her son had protested against everything that was done at the treaty of Utrecht.” ^ This was, indeed, retaining the tone of a crowned head, when all that could give importance to that dignity was gone. One day, after the peace of Utrecht had sensibly diminished the hopes that had been fondly cherished by the widowed queen of James IL, of seeing her son establivshed on the throne of England, the princess of Conti, who was an illegitimate daughter of Louis XIV., paid her a formal visit at Chaillot, accompanied by her three daughters. Mary Beatrice, with the delicate tact that was natural to her, always caused all the fauteuils to be removed from her reception-room whenever she expected any of the princesses who were not privileged to occupy those seats in her presence. The three young ladies, as they were leaving the room, observing to one anc>ther on the absence of the fauteuils^ see rn- 1 Inedited MS. Memorials by a nun of Chaillot. 2 xbid. 320 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1713. fully exclaimed, as if imputing it to the destitution of the royal exile : “ What a fine instance of economy ! But they cannot be ignorant of our mother’s rank. What will people say of this?” Mary Beatrice, who overheard their impertinence, replied, with quiet dignity : “ They will say that I am a poor queen, and that this is your way of telling me that I have fallen from my proper rank.” ^ When the duchess-dowager of Orleans came to visit Mary Beatrice, she tenderly embraced her, and told her how much charmed the duke of Lorraine and her daughter were with the chevalier de St. George, and that they were delighted at having him with them. The fond mother was gratified at this commu- nication, and begged madame to “ convey her thanks to their highnesses for their goodness to her son, not having,” she said, “ words sufficiently eloquent to express her full sense of it herself.” The chevalier had found it expedient to leave Barr for a temporary visit to Luneville, where everything was, however, arranged for his comfort, through the friendship of the duke and duchess of Lorraine. His greatest trouble at this time was his pecuniary destitution, and this caused his mother more uneasiness than it did him. So self-denying was Mary Beatrice in all her personal expenses, that, although she suffered much inconvenience when at Chaillot from writing on an ornamental escritoire faced with plates of china, she could not be persuaded to purchase a proper wTiting-table, even of the cheapest materials and form. Her ladies one day said to her : “ Madam, you are not of the same disposition as other princesses, who, before they had been inconvenienced by their writing-tables as you have been by this, would have changed them a dozen times.” — “ They would have had the means of gratifying their tastes, then,” rejoined her majesty. “ I have not ; the little that can be called mine belongs to the poor.” The kind- hearted duchess of Lauzun, to whom this conversation was repeated, sent the queen a new writing-table, for a present. Mary Beatrice would not accept the friendly offering. She was the widow of a king of England, the mother of a prince who claimed the crown of that realm ; and, dowerless exile as she was, she would not degrade the national honour of the proud land over which she had reigned, by allowing any of the ladies of France to minister to her wants. Not that she conveyed her refusal in terms calculated to offend madame de Lauzun ; she thanked her courteously, but said “ the table was too low, and that she was about to purchase one, for which she had given proper directions.” Mary Beatrice found herself, at last, compelled to buy a writing-table, in order to evade the necessity of accepting the present of the duchess de liauzun. It cost the mighty sum of five-and-forty livres,^ less than eight-and-thirty shillings, and even this outlay occasioned the unfortu- nate queen a pang, when she thought of the starving families at St. 1 Inedited MS. Memorials by a nun of Chaillot. 2 Diary of Chaillot. 1713 .] Instances of self -den iah 321 Germains, and she asked the nuns, “ Whether she ought to give so much money as five-and-forty livres for a writing-table The nuns replied, with much simplicity : “ that indeed they seldom gave trades- men as much as they asked for their goods, but they thought the table was worth the price named.” Her majesty declared “ that she had no intention to cheapen the article, ordered my lady privy-purse to pay for it directly, and to give a proper recompense to the porter who had brought it.” ^ Poor Mary Beatrice ! she must have been more than woman, if memories of the splendour that once surrounded her at White- hall rose not before her mental vision on this occasion, while hesitating whether she ought to allow herself the indulgence of such an escritoire as five-and-forty livres could purchase. It would have looked strange, that same piece of furniture, in her apartment there, beside the costly cabinets and silver-filigree tables of Italian workmanship which John Evelyn admired so greatly ; and when he saw them decorating the chamber of her royal step-daughter, queen Mary II., thought — good con- scientious gentleman- — “ that they ought, in common honesty, to have been returned to their lawful owner.” 2 The duke and duchess of Berwick, and the duchess of Lauzun, came one day to visit her majesty at Chaillot, and were beginning to devise many alterations and additions for the improvement of her apartments there, which were, in truth, in great need of renovation. She listened to everything with a playful smile, and then said, “ When my dower shall be paid, I may be able to avail myself of some of your suggestions. All I have power to do, in the meantime, is to follow your advice by changing the damask bed into the place where the velvet one now stands, which fills up the small chamber too much.” ^ The chair in which her majesty was sometimes carried up into the tribune or gallery which she occupied in the chapel, had become so shabby, and out of repair, that the nuns and her ladies pressed her to have a new one made. She refused, at first, on account of the expense, but at last yielded to their persuasions. She ordered that it should be like a chair in the in- firmary, but rather larger, and yet not too large to be carried through the door of the little alley that led to the infirmary ; for she was con- stant in her visits to the sick, whether able to walk or not, and at this period, in consequence of her great debility, she was carried by her attendants in a chair. She wished the height from the ground to the top of the back to be five feet, like her chair of state at St. Germains, and that it should be covered with a silk, called gros de Tours^ which she thought would be a cheap and suitable material ; but when she heard that it was ten livres — that is to say, eight-and-fourpence an ell, which would make the chair cost altogether two hundred livres, rather 1 Diary of Chaillot. ^ Evelyn’s Diary. 3 Inedited MS. Memorials of Mary Beatrice d’Este, lii the archives of France. VOL. V. Y 322 Mary Beatrice o f Modena. [1713. over eight pounds, she declared she would not have such a sum expended for that purpose. Lady Strickland recommended camlet, a thick watered silk with some mixture of wool, as more suitable for the cover of the chair, and the queen told her to bring her patterns, with the price ; hut as she found it would cost fourteen livres more than the other, she decided on having the gros de Tours — of such serious import- ance had circumstances rendered that trivial saving to a princess who had once shared the British throce, and whose generous heart reluctantly abstracted this small indulgence for herself from the relief she accorded fi'om her narrow income to the ruined emigrants at St. Germains. “ Madam,” said one of the sisters of Chaillot, “ you put us in mind of St. Thomas of Villeneuve, who disputed with his shoemaker about the price of his shoes, and a few days afterwards gave one of the shoe- maker’s daughters three hundred rials to enable her to marry ; for your majesty is parsimonious only to enable you to he munificent in your charities and your offerings at the altar.” The queen smiled, and said, to turn the conversation : “I certainly have no dispute about the price of my shoes, hut I would fain get them for as little cost as I can. When I was in England, I always had a new pair every week ; I never had more than two pairs of new shoes in any week. I had a new pair of gloves every day, nor could I do with less ; if I changed them, it was to the profit of my chambermaids. Monsieur de Lauzun once used some exaggeration in speaking to the king [Louis XIV]. on the subject of my penury, when he said, ‘ Sire, she has scarcely shoes to her feet !’ This was going a little too far ; hut it is true,” continued she, playfully, “ that they have sewn these ribands for the second time on my fine shoes.” She laughed, and showed the shoes as she spoke, adding : they cost me ten livres. I think that is too much to pay for them, hut they will not charge less to me. That is the way with the artisans. My mother would never submit to an imposition. She was both generous and magnificent, hut she did not like to be charged more than the just price for anything. When, however, she had reason to think her tradespeople had been moderate in their charges, she would give them, out of her own pleasure, something over and above.” ^ The poor queen had cause, at this time, to apprehend that the cancer in her breast was going to break out again ; she was also troubled with difficulty of breathing and general debility. Dr. Wood, whom her son sent to see her, advised her majesty to quit Chaillot, because he said the air was too sharp for her ; and he strenuously objected to the fasts and perpetual succession of devotional exercises practised in that house, as most injurious to her. The abbess and sisterhood were displeased at the English physician’s opinion, intimated that monsieur Oude had better mind his own business, and begged their royal guest to send for 1 Diary of Chaillot. 323 1713 .] Every one at St. Germains starving. Beaulieu, her own surgeon, to prescribe for her. Beaulieu contradicted all Dr. Wood had said, except on the subject of fasting, to which he was always opposed. As for the air of Chaillot, he said it was nothing so keen as that of St. Germains, which was almost on a mountain, and recom- mended her majesty to remain where she was. Mary Beatrice said, “ that Chaillot must be a healthy place ; for that luxurious princess, Catherine de Medicis, built a summer palace there for herself, because she considered it the most healthy site near Paris.” ' The countess of Middleton observing, with uneasiness, that her royal mistress was sinking into ascetic habits, told the nuns one day, in a peti “ that the queen spent too much time in prayer at Chaillot ; that it was killing her ; and if the king of France knew the sort of life she led there, he would come himself and take her away from them.” Mary Beatrice could not refrain from smiling when this was repeated to her by the offended sisters. “ I do not think,” said she, “ that the king of France will trouble himself about my prayers, or that he is likely to interfere with my stay at Chaillot. My ladies, who like better to be at St. Germains, speak according to their own tastes, and are thinking more for themselves than for me, I doubt, in wishing to return. They may find pleasure in it ; but for me, think you the life I lead at St. Germains can be very agreeable, when I am shut up alone in my cabinet every evening after supper till 1 go to bed, writing three or four hours ? When I am here, I write in the morning, which is a relief to my eyes ; there, all my time is spent among the miserable, for of such alone is my society com- posed. Here I have, at least, cheerful company after my meals ; and if I have a moment of comfort in life it is here.”^ She might have added, it is my city of refuge from the importunities and cares with which I am beset at St. Germains. It was again a year of scarcity, almost of famine, in France, and Mary Beatrice found herself reluctantly compelled, by the necessities of her own people, as she called the British emigration, to withdraw her sub- scriptions from the benevolent institutions in Paris to which she had hitherto contributed, feeling herself bound to bestow all she had to give upon those who had the greatest claims on her.^ One day an ecclesias- tic, who came from St. Germains to see her, told her that everyone there was starving, on account of the dearness of provisions. The intelligence made her very sad. “ She could not sleep that night,” she said, “ for thinking of it ; and when she slumbered a little towards morning, she awoke with a sensation, as if her heart were pierced with a pointed cross.” • It was at this distressing period that the old bishop of Condone de Matignan, who was going to Marseilles, came to solicit the unfortunate 1 Buonaparte, it seems, was of the same opinion when he demolished the convent with tlie intention of building a nursery-palace for the king of Rome on the spot. ^ Diary of a nun of Chaillot. 3 Ibid. Y 2 324 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1713. queen to send an offering to the shrine of the immaculate Virgin there. Nothing could be more unseasonable than such a request. Mary Beatrice replied “ that, in truth, she had nothing to send, ” and was sorely vexed by his importunity. She told the community, in the evening, of this vexatious application, and the impossibility of her complying with the bishop’s request, “ since of all the profusion of costly jewels she once possessed, two only remained. One was the little ruby ring which the late king, her dear lord and husband, when duke of York, had placed on her finger at the ratification of the nuptial contract ; the other was her coronation-ring, set with a fair large ruby, sole relic of the glories of the day of her consecration as queen-consort of England, and with these she could not part. The small diamond,” added Mary Beatrice, “ which, according to the customs of Italy, I received at the previous matrimonial ceremony at Modena from the earl of Peterborough, I have sent to my son, with my daughter’s hair, for which he had asked me.” ^ The nuns endeavoured to comfort her, by telling her “ that when her son should be called to the throne of England, she would be able to make offerings w^orthy of herself on all suitable occasions.” “ On the subject of the contributions that are frequently solicited of me,” said the queen, “ I find myself much embarrassed ; for it appears unsuitable in me to give little, and it is impossible for me ever to give much, all I have belonging rather to the poor than to myself.” ^ Wisely and well did the royal widow decide, in applying her mite to the relief of God’s destitute creatures, rather than gratifying her pride by adding to the decorations of a shrine. Yet such is the weakness of human nature, the force of early impressions, and the manner in which even the strongest-minded persons are biassed by the opinions of the world, she was deeply mortified at being unable to send the gift that was expected of her by the old bishop. She at last expressed her regret that she had given her last diamond to her son instead of adding it to the coronal of the Virgin of Marseilles. “ Madam,” replied the nuns, “ the use you made of the diamond, in sending it to your son, was perfectly lawful, and these are times when saints them- selves would sell the very ornaments of the altar to afford succour to the ;'OOr.” ® Mary Beatrice was much entreated to assist at the twofold nuptials of the prince de Conti and mademoiselle de Bourbon, and the duke de Bourbon with mademoiselle de Conti, by which a long feud between those illustrious houses would be reconciled. She excused herself, on account of her ill-health and great afflictions, when the princess-dowager of Conti came in person to invite her. Then the duke de Lauzun came from Louis XIV., to request her presence at Versailles on that occasion ; and she declined, for the same reasons she had given to madame Conti. The duke de Lauzun took the liberty of a tried and sincere friend to 1 Diary of a nun of Ciiaillot. ^ jbid. 3 ibid. 325 1713 .] Visited by a Jacobite qiiaker, urge her to accept the invitation, telling her “ it was necessary that she should appear at Versailles on that occasion, lest the English ambassador should report her as wholly neglected and forgotten since the peace of Utrecht, which would prejudice the cause of her son in England.” The royal widow replied “ that he had reason on his side ; but, for her part, wasted as she was with a mortal malady and crushed with sorrow, she could not think of casting a gloom over the joy of others at a bridal festival by her tears, which, perhaps, she might be unable to restrain ; she therefore prayed him to make her apologies, and to plead her wasted form and depressed spirits, and her utter unfitness to appear on that occasion.”^ Lauzun represented at Versailles the sickness and grief of the queen, and madame de Maintenon, to whom her majesty wrote to beg her to make her excuses to the king of France, replied in a consolatory tone of kindness, expressing the regrets of the king and his young relatives at her absence, and requesting her to pray for the happiness of the bridal party. Madame de Maintenon added, “ that she hoped to come to Chaillot on the following Monday to see her majesty, but in the meantime she could not help informing her, that she had learned that many of the English were passing over from London to Calais on purpose, as it was whispered, to come to Chaillot to pay their respects to her majesty, and to pass on to Barr to see her son.” This flattering news was a cordial to the mother of him, whom his visionary partisans in England fondly called “the king over the water.” The peace of Utrecht had, indeed, driven him from the French dominions, and limited his title there to the simple style of the chevalier de St. George; but would afford ready means of communication between him and those ardent friends who had sworn fealty to him in their hearts, and were ready, like the old cavaliers who had fought for his grandfather and his uncle, to peril life and limb for his sake. He was remembered in Eng- land, and she, his mother, was not forgotten in the land of which she still called herself the queen, though four-and-twenty years had passed away since she left its shores on a stormy winter night, with that son. Heaven’s dearest but most fatal gift to her, then a sleeping infant in her arms. Now he had been driven from her, and lor his sake she kept her court in widowed loneliness at St. Germains as a centre and rallying point for his friends, and struggled with the sharp and deadly malady that was sapping her existence. Some time in the month of July, 1713, a fat English merchant, a member of the society of Friends, whom the worthy sister of Chaillot, in her simplicity of heart, calls “a trembleur or cocquere by profession,” came to the convent and craved an audience of the widow of his late sovereign James II. Mary Beatrice, who was always accessible to the English, admitted him without any hesitation. Before he entered her 1 Diary of Chaillot. 326 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1713. presence, the quaker.gave his hat to a footman, and thus discreetly avoided compromising his principles by taking it off, or appearing to treat the fallen queen with disrespect by wearing it before her.^ As soon as he saw her majesty, he said to her, “ Art thou the queen of England ?” She answered in the affirmative. “ Well then,” said he, “ I am come to tell thee that thy son will return to England. I am now going to Barr on purpose to tell him so.” — “ But how know you this ?” demanded the queen. “ By the inspiration of the Holy Spirit,” replied the quaker, showing her a thick pamphlet of his visions, printed in London. “ When will the event of which you speak come to pass ?” inquired her majesty. The quaker would not commit himself by naming any precise time for the fulfilment of his visions, but said, “ if he had not been convinced of the truth of his predictions, he would never have put himself to the trouble and expense of a journey from London to Barr.” The queen laughed heartily when she related the particulars of this interview to her friends. The holy sisters of Chaillot, not con- sidering that three clever pinches would have transformed the quaker’s broad-brimmed beaver into the orthodox cocked hat of an abbe of their own church, regarded a Jacobite in drab as a very formidable personage ; they protested “ that he ought to be shut up and treated as a lunatic, and were sure he intended to make some attempt on the life of the king.” The reply of Mary Beatrice proved that she was better ac- quainted with the tenets of the society of Friends, and entertained a favourable opinion of their practice. “ My son has no cause for alarm,” said she ; “ these poor people are not wicked. They loved the late king very much, and they are so highly esteemed in England for their pro- bity, that they are exempted from the oaths which others are compelled to take. They never overreach others in their merchandise, and they have adopted for their maxim the words of our Lord, when he bids us be meek and lowly in heart ; yet they are not baptized.^ In England all sorts of religions are permitted,” pursued the queen. “ The late king said, ‘ all these varying sects had had one point of negative union, which was to oppose the authority of the pope.’ My lord was convinced that he ought not to do violence to the conscience of any one on the subject of religion ; they have been persuaded in England, never- theless, that he had made a league with the king of France to force them to adopt his religion. Yet, when that king drove out the Hugue- nots, they were given a refuge in England as well as in Holland, where they rendered us odious, as was seen about the time of the birth of the king, my son, when they conjured up false reports against us,” con- tinued she, in the bitterness of her heart — imputing to the harmless r(;fugees, whom James had sheltered from the persecutions of his more bigoted neighbour, the calumnies with which his nearest and dearest ties 1 Diary of Chaillot. Ibid. 1713 .] Jacobite quaJcers visions, 32T of kindred had endeavoured to stigmatize the birth of the unfortunate prince of Wales.^ “ Me have they accused of things of which I never thought,” pursued the fallen queen, “ as if I had been as great a deceiver as themselves ; they have attributed to me crimes of which I am as- suredly incapable — of imposing a spurious child, and committing per- juries. Others, who love me, have imputed to me virtues which I do not possess ; but God will be my judge.” The nuns endeavoured to soothe her by saying, they hoped she would see their religion flourish when her son returned in triumph to take possession of his throne.” ‘‘ Should my son return,” said the queen, “ you will not see any altera- tion in the established religion : the utmost that he can do will be to shield the Catholics from persecution. He will be too prudent to attempt innovations.” ^ Meantime, this beloved object of her maternal hopes and fears had been ordered to drink the waters of Aix-la-Chapelle, but the princes of Germany would not grant him passports. He wrote a few days after to the queen, and told her “ he had seen his enthusiastic quaker liegeman, who had related to him his visions, and coolly added, ‘ I am not, per- haps, so great a prophet as Daniel, but I am as true a one.’ ” The prince said “ he had laughed much at the absurdities of this person, and that it must have appeared strange to him that he did not receive any present ; “ but,” added he, ‘‘ I am not rich enough to have it in my power to make suitable gifts : all I had to bestow on him were some medals. I do not love either prophets, or readers of horoscopes.” This trait of sound sense the prince derived from his royal mother, whose mind revolted from everything of the sort. The same evening, after she had read her son's letter, Mary Beatrice said “ that she neither liked revela- tions nor ecstasies.” Madame Molza, on this, spoke of an Italian lady, “ the mother of father Seignery, who had lately died in the odour of sanctity, who often fell into a trance, in which she remained until she was roused by the voice of her confessor,” adding, “ that her majesty’s mother, the duchess of Modena, was delighted to see her.” — ‘‘ It is true,” replied the queen, “ that my late mother took delight in seeing marvels and mysteries ; but, for my part, I cannot endure them, and always avoid having anything to do with them,”*'* 1 That the widow of James II. had been given this erroneous impression of the Pro- testant emigration by the parties who per- secuted and drove them out of France, is not wonderful; but it is pleasant to be able to record one noble exception, at least, among that emigration, from the charge of ingrati- tude to the unfortunate prince who had re- ceived, cherished, and supported them in their distress. Peter Allix, one of the most learned of the Protestant divines, was forced, in 1685, to flee from the cruelty of the kit^ of France ; and retiring to the protection of James 11., he met with the kindest reception from him. Allix showed his gratitude, by writing, in English, a book in defence of Christianity, de- dicated to James II., in which he warmly acknowledged his obligations to him, and gratefully thanked him for his kind behaviour to the distressed refugees in general. It ap- pears that this book was published after the misfortunes of his benefactor, for Peter had to learn the English language before he wrote it. — Biographia Brit., Ant. a-Wood, Oxoni- ensis. 2 Diary of Chaillot. » Ibid. 328 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ 1713 . On the 18th of July, Elizabeth Charlotte, duchess-dowager of Orleans, came with her daughter, the duchess of Orleans, to cheer the royal recluse with a friendly visit. There was a great deal of kindness and good-nature in Elizabeth Charlotte, notwithstanding the vulgarity of her person and manners. She had a sincere respect for the virtues and noble qualities of the widowed queen of James II., and although she was so nearly related to the parliamentary heir of the British crown, the elector of Hanover, she expressed a lively interest in the welfare of the unfortunate chevalier de St. George, and when speaking of him to his mother, always gave him the title of the king of England. Both she and her daughter-in-law told the queen again how much affection the duke and duchess of Lorraine expressed for him, and how greatly they delighted in his company. The queen listened some time to them before she could command utterance ; at last she sp-id, “ The duke of Lorraine had compassion on my son ; he has had, from his own expe- rience hut too much reason to feel for those who are deprived of their rank and possessions.” The following animated song was composed at this period, and sung at the secret meetings of the convivial Jacobite gentry, in allusion to the friendship experienced by the son of Mary Beatrice from the court of Lorraine. All these political lyrics found their way to the convent of Chaillot, though we presume not to insinuate that they were ever hummed by the holy sisters at the hour of recreation : — SONG. Tune, O'er the hills and far awa*. “ Bring in the bowl, I’ll toast you a health, To one that has neither land nor wealth ; The bonniest lad that e’er you saw, Is o’er the hills and far awa’ — Over the hills and over the dales. No lasting peace till he prevails ; Pull up, my lads, with a loud huzza, A health to him that’s far aw’a’. By France, by Rome, likewise by Spain, By all forsook but duke Lorraine ; The next remove appears most plain , Will be to bring him back again. The bonniest lad that e'er you saw. Is o’er the hills and far awa’. He knew no harm, he knew no guilt. No laws had broke, no blood had spilt; If rogues his father did betray. What’s that to him that’s far away ? O’er the hills and far awa’ — Beyond these hills and far awa’ ; The wind may change and fairly blaw, And blow him back that’s blown awa'.” ‘ ^ Quoted by Sir Henry Ellis, from the Harleian Miscellany. 329 lyis.] Bestless and depressed. The feverish hopes which tlie inspirations of poetry and romance con- tinued to feed in the bosom of the mother of the unfortunate chevalier de St. George, doomed her to many a pang which might otherwise have been spared. Mary Beatrice received so many visits one day during her abode at Chaillot, that she was greatly fatigued, and said she would see no or:e else ; but, at six o’clock in the evening, monsieur de Torcy arrived. As he was the prime-minister of France, he was, of course, admitted : the interview was strictly private. On taking his leave of the royal widow, he said : “ Her virtues were admirable, but her misfortunes were very great. The king, her son, might be restored, but it would not be yet.” At supper, the queen, which was unusual, was flushed and agitated ; the nuns took the liberty of saying to her, they feared M. de Torcy had brought her bad news. “ It is nothing more than I already knew,” replied the queen. “ God be blessed for all : his holy will be done !” She ate little at supper, and went to prayers without saying what afflicted her. She had a restless night, and the next day she was very much depressed. They urged her to take her chocolate, and at last, to silence the importunities of her ladies, she did. The same morning she received a letter from Mr. Dicconson, the treasurer of her household, to show her that he could not send her any money. This seemed to aug- ment her trouble ; however, she performed all her devotional exercises as usual, but was so weak and exhausted that she could not descend the stairs without extreme difficulty. The nuns entreated her to declare the cause of her affliction. She confessed that she had not been able to sleep. “ Madam,” said thej^ it must be something that your majesty has heard from monsieur de Torcy which has distressed you so much. The heart of that minister must be ver}^ hard and pitiless.” — “ It is no fault of M. de Torcy,” replied the queen. “ He has a very good heart, and has always treated us well.”^ The following evening she revealed the cause of her vexation to the community. When she sent the London Gazette to her confessor, she said that “ She had seen in it, that both houses of parliament had united in demanding of the princess of Denmark [queen Anne] ‘ not to permit the Pretender’ — it is thus,” said Mary Beatrice, “ they call the king — ‘ to be so near their shores and the j^rincess had replied, ‘ that she had already sent a remonstrance to the duke of Lorraine, and would again, which might perhaps induce him to send him out of his dominions ; but it was out of her power to force him to do so, as he w\as too far from the sea to fear the fleets of England.’ ” It was insinuated, that the duke of Lorraine would not have dared to receive tho prince without the con- sent of Anne, and that he was waiting there to take advantage of a change of popular feeling. “ We are,” continued the exiled queen, 1 Diary of Chaillot. 330 Mary Beatrice of Modena » [ 1 7 1 3 . ‘‘ in the hands of God ; why, then, should we be cast down ? I confess that this news disturbed me very much yesterday ; so much so, that I did ij not wish to speak on the subject. I said to myself, why should I afflict !] these poor girls who are about me ? I ought to keep my trouble to myself, ;| but seeing the news has been made public, I can no longer hide it.” ^ •! Phrenologists would say, after looking at the contour of this queen’s | lofty and somewhat elongated head, that the organs of caution and >| secretiveness were wholly absent. Her conduct through life proves that ] she was deficient in those faculties. She told everything that befell her. She might have said, with the Psalmist, “ I kept silence, but it was pain and weariness to me ; at last the fire kindled, and I spake.” It was generally at the hour of the evening recreation, when the rigid inle of conventual discipline was relaxed, and the sisters of Chaillot were per- mitted to converse or listen to discourse not strictly confined to religious ' subjects, that their royal guest gave vent to her feelings by discussing with the sympathizing circle her hopes and fears on the subject of her son, or adverted to the trials of her past life, and the consolation she derived from religion, with impassioned eloquence. The promises of God in the Psalms, that he would protect the widow and the orphan, were frequently mentioned by her. One day the duke of Berwick came to visit her, and bring her English news. In the evening, she told the community “ that both houses of parliament had moved an address to queen Anne, that she should write to the allies not to suffer the Pre- tender to be so near to England. In the course of the debate, an old gentleman, eighty years of age, a member of the house of commons, ex- claimed, ‘ Take care of what you do. I was a young man in the time when Cromwell, in like manner, urged the neighbouring states to drive away him, whom they then only called Charles Stuart.’ This bold hint gave a turn to the tone of the debate, which then became sufficiently animated, and it was found that ‘ the Pretender,’ as they called her son, had a strong party to speak for him even in that house.” ^ The nuns told their royal friend, “ that they hoped this good news would reach the king, her son, before he heard of the endeavour to deprive him of his refuge with the duke of Lorraine.” — “My son is not easily moved by these sort of things,” she replied ; “ he cares little about the agitation that is excited against him.” The prince was not quite so stoical in this respect. His valef-de-chambre, St. Paul, who had been delayed on his journey, brought him the intelligence of the vote of the British parliament on St. James’s-day. He wrote to his mother, “ that he had received a fine bouquet, but, through God’s grace, he had not been much disturbed by it.” Mary Beatrice observed, in reply, “ that he had one subject of consolation — that the Lord had dealt with him as with those he loved, for such had their trials in this life.” ® 1 Diary of Chaillot. 2 » Ibid. 331 1713.] Sits for her portrait, A little variation in the monotony of the convent was caused by the arrival of an artist named Gobert, with a portrait of the chevalier de St. George, which he had been painting for the queen at Barr. Her majesty was much pleased with it, but her ladies and the nuns did not think it quite handsome enough to be considered a successful likeness. The chevalier de St. George had frequently asked his mother to give him her portrait in her widow’s dress, and hitherto in vain. A spice of feminine weakness lingered in her heart. Aware how strangely changed she was by time, sickness, and sorrow, since the days when Lely painted York’s lovely duchess among the dark-eyed beauties of Charles II.’s court, she refused to allow her likeness to be taken in the decline of life. She playfully explained her reluctance to sit again, by saying, “ that cardinal Bellarmin had refused his portrait to his friends, because an old man was too ugly for a picture.” ^ But when her son wrote to her from Barr to repeat his request, she said, “ she could not refuse him anything that might be a solace to him during their separation ; and as it would be more convenient for her to have it done at Chaillot than at St. Germains, she would send for Gobert, the same artist who had painted his portrait, and sit to him.” The abbess and nuns then joined in petitioning her to allow a copy to be made for them, but on this she at first put a decided negative. Gobert came the next day to begin the picture, but it was not without great difficulty that she could be persuaded, even then, to let him take the outline of her head and the dimensions for that which was to be placed in the tribune with those of her daughter and her son. At last she said, “ she would be painted in the character and costume of that royal British saint, the empress Helena showing the cross, and that she would have her son painted as Edward the Confessor,” drawing in her own mind a flattering inference for her son, from the resemblance between his present lot and the early history of that once expatriated prince of the elder royal line of England, and fondly imagining that the chevalier would one day be called, like him, to the throne of Alfred. Mary Beatrice said, “ the late princess her daughter should also be painted as a royal English saint.” A blank is left in the MS. for the name, but, in all probability, Margaret Atheling, queen of Scotland, was the person intended. Her son wrote to beg her to let him have two copies of her portrait ; one for the duke and duchess of Lorraine, and another for the princess of Vaudemonte, who had been very kind to him. He called the princess of Vaudemonte “ an amiable saint,” and said, “ that his greatest comfort was talking with her of his mother, and the late princess his sister.” Mary Beatrice was very perverse about her portrait, childishly so ; for she ought not to have hesitated for a moment to oblige the friends who had given that asylum to her sou which the kings of France and Spain were unable to bestow. Such ^ Diary of Chaillot. 332 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1713. however, are the weaknesses of human vanity. She wrote to her son, “ tliat she had already refused her portrait to the community of Chaillot ; and what she denied to them, she would not grant to others.” To this the chevalier replied, “ that he thought it was very hard for her to deny such a trifle to the good nuns, and that she ought to oblige them, and his friends at the court of Lorraine as well.”^ She then reluctantly conceded the point. When the painter came the next time, the queen was at her toilet, and before she was ready to take her sitting, the duchess of Orleans came to pay her a visit, and remained with her till dinner-time. She told her majesty, “ that she thought her looking ill — much altered for the worse in appearance.” This remark did not decrease the poor queen’s reluctance to go through the business of sitting for her portrait. She took her dinner at half-past one, and appeared much fatigued and out of spirits, saying, “ she was very sorry she had consented to have her portrait taken yet, when she found Gohert was waiting, her natural kindness of heart caused her to receive him very graciously. She allowed him to place her in her fauteuil in the proper attitude, and gave him a long sitting. In the evening, her majesty, with three of her ladies, went to take the air in the Bois de Boulogne. They all set off in the queen’s coach, but the lady Middleton and lady Sophia Bulkeley were left in possession of that vehicle, while the queen walked on with madame Molza, and they took a solitary ramble for three hours in the forest glades together. She returned refreshed, and in better spirits, from this little excursion. 2 On another occasion, when Mary Beatrice and her ladies had been taking an incognito walk in the Bois de Boulogne, when they came to the ferry, her majesty had a great wish to cross the liver in the ferry-boat ; but her ladies being afraid, they all crossed the Pont-Koyal, and returned through the fauxbourg of St. Germains. There the queen betrayed herself by saluting the touriere of the con- vent of the Visitation in that quarter, who, although she was on foot, could not help recognising her, even if her coach had not been following, her person being well known to all the religieuses of Paris. Mary Beatrice, on her return to Chaillot, was very merry, and related all the little adventures of her ramble to the community. Her majesty walked as far as Longchamps on one of these incognito expeditions, and visited, by way of recreation, a religious house there. The abbess offered her a collation, which she declined, but partook of some macaroons and fruit, which were handed about in baskets. Mary Beatrice attended the vespers in their chapel, and was so much delighted with the beautiful singing, led by the abbess, whose voice was one of the finest in France, that she remained for the last evening services. This made her and her ladies so late in their return, that the gates of St. Marie de Chaillot were Diary of Chaillot. ’ Ibid. 1713 .] Her coach and horses in danger of being stolen, 333 closed for the night, and the royal devotee and her noble attendants might have had some trouble in gaining admittance, if pere Gaillar had had not, by a lucky chance, passed, and found them waiting outside.^ The poor queen being without money at this time, in consequence of the unprincipled delays on the part of Desmarets in the payment of her pension, was greatly troubled to meet the trifling current expenses even of her present economical way of life. Her coach and horses caused her some uneasiness, for the person at whose mews she had been accustomed to keep them sent word, “ that he could not engage for their safety. Everyone was starving in the suburbs of Paris, and he was afraid they would be stolen from his place.” The coachman told her majesty, “he thought it would be desirable to keep the coach, at any rate, in the con- vent court, where it would be locked up within double doors but this also involved a difficulty, for there was no covered place to put it under, and if exposed to the weather, it would soon fall to pieces.^ These petty cares of every-day occurrence, about matters to which the attention of persons of royal birth is never directed, were very harassing to her. “ There were times,” she would say, “ when she felt so cast down, that the weight of a straw, in addition to her other troubles, appeared a burden, and she dreaded everything.” Our Chaillot diary records, that on the 6th of August a Protestant gentleman, whose name, from the way it is written there, it is impossible to decipher, came to take leave of the queen before he returned to Eng- land, having obtained the leave of her son, whom he called his royal master, so to do. He was one of the St. Germains Protestants who had attended that prince to Lorraine, and he told the queen that he, and all of his religion, had been perfectly satisfied with the liberality of their treatment. The chevalier had taken a Protestant chaplain, a regularly ordained minister of the church of England, with him, for the sake of his followers of the reformed religion, the earl of Middleton being the only Roman catholic in his retinue.^ On the 12th of August Mary Beatrice dined early, that she might give Gobart the final sitting for her portrait. She told him that he was on no account to make any copies of it, which he confessed that many persons had been desirous of obtaining of him.^ The princess de Conde, who always treated Mary Beatrice with scrupulous attention, came to visit her in the convent that afternoon, and told her, “ that she had sent a gentleman to Barr purposely to announce the recent marriages of her children to her majesty's son ; but lord Middleton had warned her envoy that he must not address him by the title of majesty, as his incognito was very strict, and this had disconcerted the gentleman so much, that he did not know what to say. However, the prince had soon put him at his ease by the frankness of his reception, and had 1 Diary of Chaillot. 2 ibid, 3 ibid. < Ibid. 334 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1713. made him sit down to dinner with him/’ “ It is thus,” sighed the widow of James II., “ that we have to play the parts of the kiugs and queens of comedy, or rather, I should say, of tragedy.” ^ The princess of Cond 4 entreated her majesty to come and see her in her newly-built palace, the Petit Luxembourg, which she had fitted up with extraordinary taste and magnificence. The queen’s ladies, who were, of course, eager to escape for one day of pleasure from the weary monotony of the life they had led at Chaillot, prevailed on their royal mistress to accept the princess’s invitation ; and the following Wednes- day being the day appointed, Mary Beatrice went, for the first time since the death of her daughter, to Paris, in her old state coach, with the arms and royal liveries of a queen of England.^ She and her ladies set out from Chaillot at three o’clock, escorted by count Molza, who appears to have performed the duties of vice-chamberlain since the death of old Eobert Strickland. When her majesty arrived at the Petit Luxembourg, mademoiselle de Clermont, the eldest daughter of Cond^ came to receive and welcome her as she descended from her coach, and conducted her into the apartment of madame la princesse,*^ who was on her bed. Mary Beatrice begged her not to disturb herself by rising on her account ; but the princess insisted on doing the honours of her palace to her illustrious guest. The princess’s chamber being in the highest suite of apartments, she requested her majesty to avoid the fatigue of going down so many stairs by descending in her machine — a light fauteuil^ which, by means of a pulley and cord, would lower her, in the course of a few minutes, from the top of the house into the garden. Mary Beatrice seated herself in this machine, and took the cordon in her hand, as directed ; but she afterwards acknowledged to her ladies, that she felt a slight degree of trepidation when she found herself suspended so many feet from the ground. However, she performed her descent safely, and was immediately ushered into the gorgeous chapel, paved with mosaics, and the walls and roof embellished with gold, crystal, and precious stones, besides the most exquisite works of art, interspersed with large mirrors that re- flected and multiplied the glittering show in all directions. Mary Beatrice said, “ that it would take a full week before she should be able to divert her attention from such a variety of attractive objects suffi- ciently to compose her mind to prayer” — an observation characteristic of the wisdom of a devout Christian, who knew how far a wandering eye might lead the soul from God. When the chapel had been duly admired, the superb suite of state apartments that looked upon the 1 Diary of Chaillot. 2 gave it to his niece, the duchess d’Aquillon, 3 “ Madame la Princesse” was the title of trom whom it descended to Henri-Jules of the consorts of the princes of Conde. I he Bourbon Condd. It was inhabited by the Petit Luxembourg is a palace or hotel sitmite princes of Bourbon Conde during the last in the rue de Vaugirard. It is contiguous to century, when it was occasionally called the the palace of the Luxembourg, and built at Petit Bourbon. — Delaure’s Paris, voL iii. the siirae era by cardinal de Bichelieu, who pp. 9, 10. 1713.] Exciting day in Paris, 335 gardens of the royal Luxembourg were exhibited. Everything was arranged with equal taste and magnificence ; and though the fallen queen of England felt, perhaps, that there was a degree of ostentation in the manner in which madame la princesse displayed her wealth and grandeur, she praised everything, and appeared to take much pleasure in examining the paintings, sculpture, and articles of virtu with which she was sur- rounded. She and her ladies were greatly charmed with the hangings of one of the state beds, ornamented with festoons and bouquets of the most delicate flowers in cut paper, the work of nuns, which the princess herself had arranged on white satin with gold fringes. When her majesty rose to take her leave, she said “ she could not allow madame la princesse to take the trouble of attending her to her carriage ; it would be quite sufficient if mademoiselle de Clermont accompanied her,” and was about to go down with that young lady. But the j)rincess of Cond^ seating herself in her machine, as she called the chaise volante, was at the foot of the stairs first, and stood in readiness to pay the ceremonial marks of respect due to the royal guest at her departure. From this abode of luxury, Mary Beatrice and her ladies proceeded to a very different place, the great Ursuline convent in the fauxbourg de St. Jacques, where she saw two of her young English ladies, Miss Stafford and Miss Louisa Plowden, the younger sister of king James’s little pet, Mary Plowden. “ The queen,” says our Chaillot diary, “ pitied la •petite Louison — for so they called the youngest Plowden, who, not seeing her mother in her majesty’s train, began to weep. Miss Stafford was unhappy because she had been removed from the English Bene- dictines, where the rule was less rigid than in the French house.” ^ Mary Beatrice next visited the English Benedictine monastery of St. Jacques. As she was expected, all the world had collected to get a sight of “ la pauvre reine (V Angleterre f so that, when she alighted from her coach, count Molza, who had the honour to give her the hand, could not get her through the throng. The abbot and his brethren stood at the gates to receive her, but such were the pressure and excitement of the crowd, that two of the ecclesiastics, who were endeavouring to assist her majesty, found themselves increasing her distress by stepping on the train of her long black mantle, so that she could neither advance nor recede, and was in some danger of suffocation. At last, through the assistance of the officer of the guard, a passage was forced for her and her ladies. She attended the evening service in one of the chapels, and afterwards took her tea in the great chamber of assembly, which was full of privileged spectators. Another nunnery in that quarter claimed a visit, and she had to encounter fresh crowds of eager gazers in passing to her coach. She returned to Chaillot at eight in the evening, much fatigued.® 1 MS. Diary of Chaillot. * Ibid. 336 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1713. A general reconciliation had taken place at the time of the inter- marriages between the Conde, Bourbon, and Conti families, among all parties engaged in the late fends, except the due de Lauzun, who positively refused to go to a grand entertainment of reunion given by one of the dowager princesses, on this occasion, at Passy. Mary Beatrice being the only person in the world who had any influence over his stormy temper, endeavoured to persuade him to go. He replied, with some warmth, “ that he would not,” and mentioned several causes of offence which justified him, he thought, in keeping up the quarrel. “ You mean to say that you will not oblige me,” observed the queen. ‘‘ Not oblige you, madam !” exclaimed Lauzun, vehemently. “ You know very well, that if you were to tell me to walk up to the mouth of a cannon when it was going to fire, I would do it.” — I am not likely to put you to such a test,’’ said her majesty, gravely ; “I only ask you to dine with our friends at Passy.” She carried her point.^ Early in August, Mary Beatrice received a letter from her absent son, telling her “ that he had received the precious gift she had sent him, of the ring set with the diamond of her espousals, and the hair of the princess his sister,” which, he said, “ he should keep as long as he lived.” He added, and that troubled his anxious mother, “ that he had been ordered by his physicians to the waters of Plombieres for his health, but he could not undertake the journey without 20,000 livres.” ^ “I know not how I am to come by them,” observed Mary Beatrice to the nuns, when she was reading her son’s letter ; “ I have written to Mr, Dicconson about it, not knowing what else to do. God will, perhaps, provide.” The royal widow was certainly right to place her trust in Providence, and not in her luckless treasurer and his exhausted funds. It is impossible not to compassionate the case of this poor Mr. Dicconson, who was called upon by every one for money, from the queen and her son to her famishing followers. So far from obtaining any supply from St. Germains, her majesty received a heart-rending letter from her old almoner, pere Eonchi,^ describing the destitution of every one there, especially the poor Irish, “many of whom,” he said, “must perish for want of food, not having had a sou amongst them for the last two months.” Mary Beatrice, who was much in the same case as regarded ready money, was penetrated with grief at being unable to assist them. 1 Diary of Chaillot. maintain some sort of state, and to be liberal 2 The chevalier de St. George was self- in his fees to the officials there, where he was denying and moderate in his personal ex- on a precarious footing. 1 1 was his only city penses from a child. He had been allowed of refuge, so completely had the treaty of 8.000 livres (about three hundred and twenty Utrecht excluded him from all the other pounds) a year during his minority for pocket courts in Europe. money and little:pleasures in which all young 3 pgre Ronchi had been in her service ever persons of rank indulged, but this money he since she was duchess of York, being the same always gave away in alms. His expenses ecclesiastic who escaped from the wreck of while at the court of Lorraine amounted to the Gloucester by clinging to a plank. 80.000 livres a year, for he was compelled to 1713.1 Distress of the British emigrants, 337 “ For myself,” said she, “ I have some remai^ of ^roc^^* the sx , necessaries of life, hut these poor people ^e ^H^pnly comfort V was, that a great many of lier followers wofe be^ning W&liC a^^tan^^^^ of the peace to steal back to England^*' / She tdd-rtlp^'^ni)jp^'^ty of Chaillot, “ that of 20,000 persons, of wh(iin the m'^first con- ij sisted, not more than 6000 able-bodiea Wen were leftj;^tot a great /f many had perished in the French armies, %mt the mainten^^^t^^^"^ widows and children had fallen upon her.^ This out of her French pension. How often,” said"fh^4rff5iSg^ queen, “have I bewailed with bitter tears the life I led in England!” Her ladies, knowing how irreproachable her conduct had always been, replied that she could have no cause for repentance. “ Yes, indeed,” she said, “ I have, considering how little good I did when I had much in my power, especially in the way of charity. I see now, that many things which I then fancied necessary I might well have done without, and then I should have had more to bestow on others. I give now, in my adversity and poverty, double the sum annually that I did when I had the revenues of a queen-consort of England.” Infinitely precious, doubt- less, in the sight of God were the self-sacrifices which enabled the fallen queen to minister to the wants of the numerous claimants of her bounty at St. Germains. It was literally, in her case, the division of the widow’s mite among those whose necessities she saw were greater than her own.^ The object of pere Eonchi’s pathetic representations was, to induce Mary Beatrice to make a personal appeal to Louis XIY. on the subject of the unpunctual payment of her pension. No persuasions could prevail on her to do this on her own account, or even that of her son, her pride and delicacy of mind alike revolting from assuming the tone of an importunate beggar. Her ladies, her councillors, her ecclesiastics, the sisters of Chaillot, all united in urging her to make the effort, telling her “ that the elector of Bavaria had made no scruple of complaining to his majesty of the inconvenience he had suffered from the procrastination of the officers of the exchequer in disbursing his pension, and that it had been paid regularly ever since.” — “ But,” said Mary Beatrice, “ I shall never have the courage to do it.” — “ All in St. Germains will die of hunger in the meantime, if your majesty does not,” was the reply. Greatly agitated, she retired to her closet, threw herself on her knees, and prayed long and earnestly for spiritual succour and strength.^ Madame de Maintenon had written to the exiled queen from a sick bed, requesting her to come and see her at Marli, for she was suffering very much from infiammation in the face, had been bled, and dreaded the approaching removal to Fontainebleau, and all the courtly fatigues that awaited her there. The day was intensely hot, Mary Beatrice was herself far from well, and as the hour for her journey approached, she * Diarv of Chaillot. IbiJ. VOL. V. Z 338 Mary Beatrice of Modena, became mor(5 and more restless and agitated. However, she composed herself by attending vespers ; and after these were over, set off, attended only by lady Sophia Bulkeley. She arrived at Marl! at five o’clock, and found madaine de Maintenon in bed, and very feeble. While they were conversing tete-a-tete, the king entered the chamber unattended. Mary Beatrice, who had not seen him for several months, was struck with the alteration in his appearance, for he was much broken. Eegard- less of the ceremonial restraints of royalty, she obeyed the kindly impulse of her benevolence by hastening to draw a fauteuil for him with her own hand, and perceiving it was not high enough, she brought another cushion to raise it, saying at the same time, “ Sire, I know you are incommoded by sitting so low.” Louis, once the soul of gallantry, now a feeble, infirm old man, tottering on the verge of the grave, but still most scrupulously regardful of all the courtesies due to ladies of every degree, made a thousand apologies for the trouble her majesty had given herself on his account. “ However, madam,” said he, “ you were so brisk in your movements, you took me by sur- prise. They told me you were dying.” ^ Mary Beatrice smiled, but had not the courage t(/ avail herself of this opportunity of telling her adopted father that her sufferings had been more of the mind than the body, and appealing to his compassion. She said afterwards, “ that she talked of subjects the most indifi'erent in the world, while her heart was ready to burst, not daring to give vent to her feelings.” When the king went to take his evening walk, or rather, to show himself as usual on the promenade, Mary Beatrice told madam e de Maintenon “ that she had a great desire to speak to the king on the subject of her pension, as eight months had passed since she had received any portion of it, and that, in consequence, every one at St. Germains was dying of hunger; that she came partly to represent this to his majesty, but her courage had failed her, though her heart was pierced with anguish at the sufferings of so many people whom she knew so well.” Madame de Maintenon appeared touched by this discourse, and said, ‘‘ she would not fail to mention it to the king, who would be much concerned;” adding, that she was, however, surprised to hear it, as she had been told that her majesty had been paid the sum of 50,000 livres the last time she came.” — “ It is true,” replied the queen; “but ' that 50,000 was the arrear of a previous seven months’ delay, and was, i of course, all anticipated.” ^ The payment she now requested had been ; due for two months when the last instalment was disbursed, and she i ought to have received it then, but it was too painful to her to press for it. “ It is well known,” continued she, sighing, “ that I should not ask for it now, were it not for those poor Irish. How much do you think was reserved for my use of that last 50,000 livres ? Less than a thou- i Diary of Cbaillot. luio. 339 1713.] Confides her distress to madame de Maintenon, sand crowns, to put in my privy-purse for necessary expenses. Of that sum, the larger half went to the relief of urgent cases of distress.” ^ When the poor queen had thus unburdened her mind, she went to make her round of visits to the princes and princesses. As she was passing through the saloon where the great ladies had assembled to make their compliments to her, lady Sophia Bulkeley told her that madame de Beauvilliers and madame de Bemiremont were following her. Her majesty, who had not observed them in the noble circle, immediately turned back to speak to them, with every mark of respect, and gave them her hand to kiss. She would not, however, appear as if she were assuming the state of a queen of France holding a court, but stood while she conversed with the ladies, who expressed themselves charmed with her politeness to them, one and all, and the graciousness of her deport- ment. When she visited the princesses, she made a point of speaking courteously to their ladies, so that she left an agreeable impression wherever she went.^ “ The queen,” says her Chaillot chronicler, “ did not return here till near ten o’clock. As she said she would 1^3 here at nine, lady Middleton and madame Molza were waiting with us at the gate. They were very uneasy, because they feared that the queen, who was not well when she went away, had been taken ill at Marli. It wanted about a quarter to ten when her majesty arrived. She made great apologies for being so late, and begged that the sisters who waited on her would go to bed, but they entreated to be permitted to remain. She would not herself go to bed till she had attended prayers in the tribune, before she performed her private devotions in her own apartments. Lady Sophia Bulkeley was well pleased with this visit. She said, “ that all the ladies at the French court had been charmed with her majesty ; that they had talked of her at supper, and declared, ‘ that no lady in France, since the queen- mother, Anne of Austria, had afforded so perfect a model of dignity and politeness.’ ” ® Thus we see, that in the midst of all her trials and poverty, Mary Beatrice had the singular good fortune to maintain, in that fastidious and fickle court, the favourable impression she had made at her first appearance there in 1689, when Louis XIV. had said of her, “See what a queen ought to be !” ^ The French ladies had told lady Sophia Bulkeley that they were always charmed with the queen of England’s visit to Fontainebleau. Her ladyship would have repeated more of the agreeable things that had been said of her royal mistress to the nuns, but Mary Beatrice, who always discouraged everything like flattery, interrupted her by saying, gravely, “ The ladies here have much kindness for me, which was not the case in England, truth to tell ; but I have lived since then to become wiser by my misfortunes.” At the evening recreation she said to the nuns, “ Can you believe that I have ^ Diary of Chaillot. * Ibid. * Ibid. Madame de Sevigne. z 2 340 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ 1713 . returned witliout having ventured to speak to the king on my business ? But I hope what I have done will be the same as if I had, as 1 have spoken to madame de Maintenon.” The mind of the fallen queen then misgave her, and she cried, “ But what shall I do if she should fail me ? All would he lost then. But I am wrong,” continued she, correcting herself. “ My God, it is in thee only that I should put my trust ; thou art my stay.” ^ So urgent was the want of money, that Mary Beatrice was reduced to the painful necessity of taking up a sum to relieve the direful pressure of distress at this crisis. She found a merchant willing to accommodate her with a loan for three months on the security of her French pension. “ It was a painful duty,” she said; “but if she waited till she touched what had been so long due to her, two-thirds of St. Germains would have perished.” ^ She was also very anxious about her son’s health, and determined to supply him with the means of going to the waters of Plombieres at any sacrifice. One little expense which Mary Beatrice indulged herself in out of this loan was, to give a day of pleasure to some lowly individuals in her household, to whom so long a sojourn in a convent had probably been weary work. Our Chaillot diary records, “ that on Tuesday, August 29, the queen hired a coach for the filles-de- chambre of her ladies to go to Paris, to see a young person of their own degree take the novitiate habit of a sceur-doraestique at the Ursuline convent, and in the afternoon to see the Petit Luxembourg. The girls came back in raptures, for the princess de Conde, hearing that they were in the family of the queen of England, had, out of respect to their royal mistress, ordered all the grand apartments to be thrown open to them, and even that they should be introduced into her own private apartment, where she was playing at cards.” The day Mary Beatrice was at Marli, she had called on the due de Berri, the grandson of Louis XIV., as etiquette required, but he was not at home. On the morrow, he sent a gentleman of his household to make his compliments to her majesty, and to express “ his regret that he was absent, hunting in the plains of St. Denis, when she did him the honour of calling, but that he should take an early opportunity of return- ing her visit.” The queen, who had no wish for his company, told the equerry “ that she thanked his royal highness for his polite attention, which she considered all the same as if he had put himself to the trouble of coming.”® This her majesty told the abbess she had said, in- the hope of being excused from his visit, as he was a prince for whose cha- racter she had no esteem ; “ nevertheless,” added she, “ you will see that he will come.” The following day his royal highness made his appear- ance at the customary hour for formal calls — four o’clock. He came in state, and as he was the next in succession to the throne of France after 1 Diary of Chaillot. 2 ibid. ^ ibid. 1713.] Visited by the due de Berri, 341 the infant dauphin, etiquette required that the abbess of Chaillot should pay him the respect of going with some of the community to receive him at the grate. She only took five or six of the sisters — doubtless the elders of the house — and her reception of the prince was not the most courteous in the world, for she begged him not to bring any of his followers into her house. His royal highness appeared a little surprised, and ex- plained that his visit was to the queen of England, and not to her reverence ; however, the holy mother was resolute not to admit any of his train. He was therefore compelled to tell the chevalier du Roye, and three other nobles of high rank who were with him, that they could not enter ; at which they were much offended.^ The queen received him in the apartments belonging to the princess-dowager of Conde, which were on the ground-floor, “ to spare him the trouble,” as she politely observed, “ of going up-stairs,” but probably in the hope of being rid of his com- pany the sooner. However, he seated himself by her on the canape^ and appeared in no hurry to depart. While he was conversing with the queen, the duchess of Perth, wondering what had become of the lords of his retinue, went to inquire, and found them very malcontent in conse- quence of the slight that had been put upon them, attributing their exclusion to the pride or over-nicety of the queen of England. Lady Perth returned, and told her royal mistress, in English, of this mis- understanding. Her majesty was much vexed, and when the duke of Berri begged that she would permit his gentlemen to enter, she said, “ Sire, it is not for me to give that order ; the power rests with you, and I beseech you to use it.” The gentlemen were then admitted, but chose to mark their displeasure by remaining with the princess de Cond 4 Mary Beatrice was greatly annoyed at the circumstance, trivial as it really was, for she felt the insecurity of her position in that court, and beheld in the due de Berri the probable regent of France.^ The queen’s principal physician, M. Garvan, came on the 13 th of September, to try and persuade her to return to St. Germains, but she would not hear of it. She said she should write to her son, to prevent him from paying any attention to those who were pressing him to im- portune her on that subject. “ Nothing that any one else can say will make me do it,” added she; “but if my son asks me, I cannot refuse him.”® ^i’he duchess-dowager of Orleans came to see Mary Beatrice in her retreat, and brought her a very kind letter from her daughter the duchess of Lorraine, expressing the great satisfaction that both herself and her lord had experienced in the society of the chevalier de St. George, * Diary of Chaillot. 2 He dud the following spring, having shortened his life by his own evil courses, leaving the post of guardian to the infant heir of France to be disputed between the duke of Maine, the son of Louis XIV. by Montespan, and the duke of Orleans, who obtained it. 3 Diary of Chaillot. 342 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ 1 7 1 3. whom she styled ‘‘ a most accomplished prince.” The delighted mother could not refrain from reading this letter to the sisters of Chaillot ; she expressed her gratitude to the duke and duchess of Lorraine, and begged the duchess of Orleans to tell them, “that she regarded them as friends, whom God had raised up for her and her son at their utmost need, when they looked in vain for any other succour.” The duchess of Orleans said “her daughter was greatly altered, which she attributed to the number of children she had had.” — “ Or rather,” rejoined the queen, “ the grief of losing them ; for,” added she, with great emo- tion, “there is nothing so afflicting as the loss of children.” — “Her majesty,” continues our recording nun, “ repeated this several times, and it appeared as if it were only by an effort of self-control that she refrained from speaking of the princess her daughter.” ^ That grief was too deep, too sacred to be named on every occasion ; there was, withal, a delicacy of feeling in Mary Beatrice, which deterred her from wearing out sympathy by talking too much of her bereavement. When some one remarked in her presence, that people often love their grandchildren better than they had done their own children, she rejoined, “ When I shall have grandchildren, I hope my affection for them will not lead me to spoil them ; but I am sure I shall not love them better than I love the king my son, or than I loved my poor daughter.” ^ The affection of Mary Beatrice for these her youngest children was of so absorbing a nature, as to render her apparently forgetful of her buried family in England — her three elder daughters, and her first-born son, the infant duke of Cambridge. If any one alluded to the loss of those children, which had been among the trials of the first years of her wedded life, she generally replied, “ that she acknowledged the wisdom and mercy of her heavenly Father in that dispensation, as well as in all his other dealings with her ; for now she felt an assurance of their eternal happi- ness, which she might not otherwise have done. Happy,” she would add, “ are those mothers who bear for the Lord.”^ Mary Beatrice received a packet of letters from her absent son on the 17th of September, just after she had entered the chapel to attend compline, but, anxious as she was to hear from him, she would not open the envelope till the service was over. She read her letters while she was taking her tea. The same evening the princess of Conde, who drank tea with her, showed her a print of the late princess her daughter, which the painter Lepel had caused to be engraved. The queen looked at it, and repressing the tears with which the sight of those dearly-loved features, now veiled for ever in the darkness of death, filled her eyes, pursued her discourse on indifferent subjects.^ Eloquent as she generally was when the name of that last and fairest of her buried hopes was mentioned, she could not speak of her then ; her heart was too full. S Je 1 Diary of Chaillot. 2 jbid. 3 ibid, < Ibid. 1713.] Obtains some of the arrears of her French pension. 343 said, that she had had a copy of Rigaud’s portrait of Louis XIV. made, to send to her son. That portrait,” she observed, “ had always struck her as a great resemblance of his majesty, only it was full thirty years younger than he was, even when she came into France, and he was very much changed and bent since then.” She added, “ he perceives it him- self, and says, sometimes, ‘Formerly, I was taller than some of the people about me, who are now taller than I am.’”^ On the 26th of September, an ecclesiastic came from St. Germains to consult with the queen on the means to be taken for the relief of the destitution there, telling her “ that, to his certain knowledge, several persons had passed thirty hours without food.” Mary Beatrice was greatly afflicted, and said, “ She was embarrassed to the last degree herself, not daring to importune the king of France, though her pension was several months in arrear, and her son was also without money.” She was tantalized with promises from some of queen Anne’s ministers, that her dowry should be paid. Secret engagements had been un- doubtedly made before the peace of Utrecht, guaranteeing that provision for the widow of James II. ; and the abbe Gautier had been sent to Eng- land to receive the first instalment from Harley, the lord treasurer, but was put off from day to day. Desmarets, the French minister of finance, made the promises of the British government touching the payment of the dowry an excuse for delaying the disbursements of her pension from his royal master The distress of her followers roused Mary Beatrice once more from the quiescent state of endurance in which she was willing to remain in regard to her own pecuniary difficulties : she wrote a heart-rending appeal to madame de Maintenon. She received a letter in reply, on Sunday, October 1, while she was at dinner, in which that lady expressed great sympathy, saying “that her majesty’s letter had filled her heart with pity ; that she could not think of her situation without pain, and though she did everything in her power to avoid causing any to the king, she could not refrain from representing her distress to his majesty, who would speak himself to M. Desmarets on the subject.” She said also, “ that he had sent to M. de Torcy, requesting him to write to the abbe Gautier, not,” added the cautious diplomatiste, “ that I dare to solicit for your majesty anything that would be inconvenient to him, but merely to testify my zeal for your interests.” ^ This communication served to raise the spirits of the royal widow : the intervention of the powerful advocate she had succeeded in interesting in her favour, produced a payment of 50,000 livres of the arrears due to her on her pension. Small as that sum really was, according to English computation of money, it was as the cup of cold water to the fainting caravan in the * MS. Diary of Chaillot, in the hOtel de 2 MSS. in the Secret Archives of the king* Soubise, Paris. dom of France, ^ Ibid. 344 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [ 1 7 1 3 desert, and enabled the exiled queen to accord to naany of the famishing emigrants at St. Germains the means of dragging on the fever of life for a few months longer. Common honesty demanded that she should make a small instalment to the convent of Chaillot, on account of the large sum in which she stood indebted to them, not only for a home, but very often for food, both for herself, her ladies, and their maids. “ Her ma- jesty,” says the recording sister of Chaillot, “gave our mother, very privately, three thousand livres, all in gold, but entreated her not to let any one know that she had paid her anything.” No sooner, indeed, was it suspected, much less known, that the widowed consort of James 11. had received any portion of her income, than she was beset with clamor- ous demands from all her pensioners.^ Some readers will doubtless feel disposed to censure Mary Beatrice for expending money she could ill afford in the following manner : The fete- day of the abbess occurring while she was at Chaillot, she could not avoid complying with the custom, which prescribed that every person in the convent should make some present, great or small, to that lady for the decoration of her church. Mary Beatrice was not only under great obligations to the house, but considered it necessary to give according to her rank, rather than her means : as the widow of a king of England, and bearing the title of queen, she determined not to be outdone by any French lady on this occasion. Having privately got the assistant-sister, Marie HeT^ne, to measure the width of the choir, she sent her careful privy-purse, lady Strickland, to Paris, to purchase the materials for a curtain, called by our nun an aparament, to hang up before it, instead of a x)iece of tapestry. Lady Strickland performed her commission, it seems, to admiration ; for she made a choice of a beautiful piece of red brocade, flowered with gold and silver, and edged with a splendid gold fringe, with a rich heading. Sister Marie HeTene, who possessed the pen of a ready writer, composed, by the queen’s desire, some verses suitable to the occasion, to accompany the present. Meantime, the matter was kept as secret as anything could be in which three ladies were concerned, till the important day arrived. After the abbess had received all the other little offerings, they were placed in the chamber of assembly, and the queen was invited to come and look at them. Her majesty had something obliging to say of everything, and when she had inspected all, she bade sister Marie Helene bring her gift, and present it to the abbess with the verses, in her name. It was quite a surprise, and the whole community were eloquent in their admiration of the elegance and magnifi- cence of the offering ; but the queen imposed silence, not liking to hear her own praise.^ The community wished to have the arms and initials of the royal donor emblazoned on the aparament; but Mary Beatrice would not permit it, saying, “ that it would appear like vanity and 1 MS. Diary of Chaillot. 2 ibid. 1713 ] The queen, the cardinal, and the quaher. 345 ostentation, and that she should consider it highly presumptuous to allow anything to her own glorification to he placed in a church.” Cardinal Gaulterio, who had seen the chevalier de St. George at the court of Lorraine, after his return from Plomhieres came to bring letters from him to his widowed mother, and rejoiced her heart with good accounts of his health and commendations of his conduct. Mary Beatrice told the nuns, “ that she had laughed and cried alternately at the sight of the cardinal, who was her countryman, because she had thought to see his face no more.” The “ cocquere^'' as our Chaillot chronicle designates the enthusiastic broad-brimmed Jacobite before mentioned, paid the queen a second visit about this time. Mary Beatrice received him in the presence of her friend, cardinal Gaulterio, and behaved so graciously to him, that he left her highly delighted with the interview. The conference between so remarkable a trio as our Italian queen, a cardinal, and a quaker, must have been an amusing one.^ Martine, the Hessian envoy at Paris, notices the quaker’s visit to the chevalier de St. George in a letter to Kobethon, the Hanoverian minister,^ in which he mentions the return to Paris of one of his friends, who had spent two months with the exiled prince at Barr, where he got much into his confidence, and spoke very favourably of him. The chevalier himself told Martine’s friend, “ that a quaker, who was much spoken of in England at that time, came to Barr on purpose to see him, and when he entered the room, addressed him in these words : ‘ Good day, James. The Spirit desired me to come to thee, to tell thee that thou shalt reign over us, and we all wish it. I come to tell thee, that if thou hast need of money, we will pay thee amongst us from three to four millions.’ ” The prince wanted to make him some present, but he would not take anything.^ Mary Beatrice would gladly have ended her days in the retirement of Chaillot ; but, for the sake of her beloved son’s interest, she was induced 1 Unpublished. We find some curious parti- culars of the quaker, Bromfield, in the in- edited diary despatches of secretary St. John to the earl of Strafford, ambassador to the States-General, which appear very similar to our nun’s account of the cocquere. The earl of Strafford, in his letter from the Hague to St. John, writes, April 2! : “There is one Bromfield, a quaker, who wrote me a letter with one enclosed to the queen, show- ing that the fellow had formerly been a pri- vate secretary to tbe late king James, and was no fool. I sent for him to see what i could get out of him. He at first inferred that he would sell his secret to no one but the queen ; but 1 made him sensible that could not be done, and that he must trust me before 1 could let him have a pass.” Strafford goes on to say that Bromfield’s mighty secret was, “ that he knew of a nobleman in France, who was the vghiful representative of the house of Valois, and might be easily set up as a pretender to the crown of that realm, to dis- turb the government. He confessed ‘ that he had been imprisoned by king William, having been sent over by king James to raise loans for him in England, in which he had suc- ceeded,’ he said, ‘ to the amount of two mil- lions adding, ‘ that there were people engaged in doing the same for his son, and that there was certainly some design on foot.’’ The duke of Marlborough says he remembers to have heard of him as a person of credit, as master of the mint to king James in Ireland. 22nd of May. — 1 am informed that the quaker Bromfield, who 1 mentioned to you in my former letters, finding 1 would not give him a pass, has contrived to go over without any, in the last merchant’s ship that went from Rotterdam.” — Collection of State liCtters and Papers, Birch MSS. Dated Paris, March 23. n.s., 1714. Both- mar State Papers, in Macpherson, 3 Ibid. 346 Mary Beatrice of Modena, ri7i3. to return to St. Germains towards the end of November, to the great joy of her ladies, the duchess of Perth, the countess of Middleton, lady Sophia Bulkeley, and madame Molza, who, though they were zealous Roman catholics, appear to have considered six months’ conformity to conventual rules rather too much of a good thing. Before the widowed queen quitted Chaillot, one of the nuns congratulated her on the bene- ficial effects the waters of Plombi^res had produced on the weakly con- stitution of the chevalier de St. George, adding, “ that she should pray for the improvement of his health and the preservation of his life as the most important things to be desired for him.” — “ How can you say so ?” cried the queen. “ Is there no other good thing to be desired for my son “ Madam,” replied the nun, “ we know that on these depend his fortunes.” — “ Ah 1 my sister,” said the royal mother, “ think not too much of his temporal good ; but rather let us ask sanctification and constancy in his religion for my son, and the accomplishment of God’s holy will, whatever it may be.” Genei-al reports were at that time pre- valent, that the chevalier de St. George was about to comply with the earnest solicitations of his friends of the church of England, by abjuring that of Rome. The resignation of the earl of Middleton, the only Roman catholic in his train at Barr, appeared a preliminary to that step. Few could believe that he would hesitate to imitate the example of his great- grandfather, Henry of Navarre, when, under similar temptations, he had sacrificed his protestantism for a crown. The unfortunate family of Stuart were, with one exception, singularly deficient in the wisdom of this world. The “ merry monarch” was the only man of his line who possessed sufficient laxity of principle to adapt himself to the temper of the times in which he lived. The son of James II. had not only been imbued by his parents with strong prejudices in favour of the faith in which he had been educated, but a feeling of spiritual romance induced him to cleave to it as a point of honour, the more vehemently, whenever he was assailed with representations of how much his profession was opposed to his worldly interests. Among the Chaillot records a paper U preserved,^ in the well-known hand of the widow of James II., enclosed in a letter to the abbess of Chaillot, headed, “ Extract of a Letter from the King my son, written hy him to me in English^ the ^Oth of December, 1713. “ I doubt not that the reports, positive and circumstantial as they are, which are in circulation of my having changed my religion, have reached you, but you know me too well to be alarmed ; and I can assure yon that, with the grace of God, you will sooner see me dead than out of the church.”^ Under this, the royal mother has, with characteristic 1 In the h6tel de Soubise. sion. If ever the original should be forth- 2 To render this extract intelligible to her coming, the phraseology will of course appear friend, her majesty has translated it into somewhat different. French, of which the above is the literal ver- 1714 .] One quarter s instalment of her dower paid, 347 enthusiasm, written “ For my part, my dear mother, I pray God that it may he so, and rest in firm reliance that God in his mercy will never abandon that dear son whom he has given me, and of whom his divine Providence has, up to the present time, taken such peculiar care. “Marie, K. “ At St. Germains, January 26, 1714.” Her enthusiastic attachment to her own religion prompted her to give as much publicity to her son’s assurances on the subject of his determination to adhere to the Komish communion, as if it had been her great object to exclude him from the throne of England. The death of queen Anne was almost hourly expected at that time. All Europe stood at gaze, awaiting, with eager curiosity, the proceedings of the rival claimants of the crown of Great Britain. That the prospects of the expatriated son of James II. and Mary Beatrice were regarded at that crisis as fiattering, may be inferred from the encouragement given by the emperor of Germany to the secret overtures for a matrimonial alliance between that prince and the archduchess his sister.^ Early in the year 1714, Mary Beatrice received the first, last, and only instalment from the British government ever paid to her of the jointure settled upon her by the parliament of England. Queen Anne, on the 23rd of December, 1713, signed the warrant authorizing the pay- ment of 11,750?. out of 500,000?. lately granted by parliament for the liquidation of her own private debts. 50,000?. per annum was the sum originally claimed by the exiled queen, but her necessities, and above all her desire of entering into amicable relations with queen Anne, for the sake of her son, induced her gladly to accept a first quarter’s payment on the lord treasurer Harley’s computation of the dower at 47,000?. The acquittance she gave was simply signed Marie, Beine, This transaction was subsequently made one of the heads of Harley earl of Oxford’s im- peachment in the house of lords, when, among other political offences, he was accused : “ Of having, by means of Matthew Prior (the poet), held secret correspondence with Mary, consort to the late king James ; and that he had also had frequent conferences with the abbot Gautier, a popish priest, her emissary, to concert settling the yearly pension of the said 47,000?. upon her, for her life, under pretence of those letters patent ; and that he had advised her majesty, queen Anne, to sign a warrant to himself, reciting the said grant to the late king James for pay ment thereof.”^ To this accusation the earl of Oxford pleaded, “ that the consort of James II. was legally entitled to receive the jointure, which had been secured to her by an act of parliament, and guaranteed by the private articles of the treaty of Ryswick ; and the legality of her claimsmot being doubted by her majesty queen Anne’s counsel-at-law, he had considered 1 Letters of the duke of Lorraine and the secretary of state to the court of Vienna. 2 Stale Trials, vol. viii. 316. 348 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ 1 7 1 ^ . it his duty to pay proper attention to it; and being a debt, he had thought himself authorized to pay it out of the fund of 500,000Z. which had been provided for the liquidation of her majesty’s debts.” ^ The arrears of the dower, for all the years that this unfortunate queen had been deprived of her provision, amounted to upwards of a million of sterling English money ; her urgent necessities rendered her glad to compound that claim, for the sake of touching the above eleven thou- sand seven hundred and fifty pounds in ready money, which enabled her to relieve the distresses of her unfortunate follow^ers, who were perishing before her eyes of want. The earl, or, as he was entitled in that court, the duke of Melfort, having returned to St. Germains, died there in the beginning of the year 1714, leaving his wife and family almost in a state of destitution. He was a man whose violent temper, defective judgment, and headlong zeal for the interests of the church of Home, contributed to the ruin of his royal master and mistress ; but the assertion that the exiled family re- garded him in any other light than that of a faithful servant, is disproved by the affectionate manner in which the chevalier de St. George recom- mended his family to the care and protection of queen Mary Beatrice. The following inedited letter of condolence, addressed by that prince to lady Melfort, which, through the courtesy of the present due de Melfort, is here, for the first time, placed before the historical reader, must set that dispute at rest for ever : — “ Barr, Feb. 3, 1714. “ The true sense I have of the late due de Melfort’s long and faith- ful services, makes me sincerely share with you in the loss both you and, I have had of him. It is a sensible mortification to me not to be able to be of that comfort and support to you and your son and whole afflicted family which you so justly deserve from me. All I could do was, to recommend you all to the queen’s goodness and bounty, which I did before the duke of Melfort’s death, whose merit is too great ever to be forgot by me, who desire nothing more than to have it in my powder of showing you and your family how truly sensible I am of it, and of the particular esteem and kindness I have for yourself. ‘Mames, K. In consequence of her son’s recommendation, her majesty appointed the duchess of Melfort as lady of the bedchamber, and one of her daughters a maid of honour — the same young lady, probably, wfflo, while in the service of the late princess Louisa, was celebrated by count Hamilton, b}^ the name of mademoiselle de Melfort, among the beauties of St. Germains. A melancholy change had come over those royal bowers since then. After the death of the princess, and the enforced absence of her brother, the sportive lyre of their merry old poet, cheva- 1 Journal of the Lords. State Trials, vol. iii. 1714 .] Given over hy her physicians, 349 Her Hamilton, was never strung again. His gay spirit was quenched at last with sorrow, age, and penury.^ Towards the spring of 1714, Mary Beatrice was attacked with so severe an illness, that she was given up by her physicians. She received the intimation with perfect calmness : life had now nothing to attach her, except a longing desire to see her son. Louis XIV. and madame de Maintenon came to take leave of her, and testified much concern : they paid her great attention during her illness, from first to last. Contrary to all human expectation, she revived, and finally recovered.^ Her great patience, tranquillity, and docility in sickness, were supposed to be the reasons that her feeble frame had survived through illnesses that would have proved fatal to younger and more vigorous persons, so true it is, “ that the race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong.” The queen’s beloved friend, Angelique Priolo, was so dangerously ill at the same time, that her life was de- spaired of also, and she too recovered. In the first letter written by ivlary Beatrice during her convalescence, dated May 22, she says : — “It is very proper that I should come to testify in person the joy I feel in the new life that God has given you, and that I should give you some signs of that which he has also restored to me, for no one could be nearer death than I have been without dying. I believe, however, that you have not been in less danger than I was, only you did not see it so plainly, for my head was perfectly clear and self-possessed, even when it was supposed that I had less than an hour to live. But I was not worthy to appear before God, and it is meet that I should suffer still more in this life to do penance for my sins, and I shall be too happy if God, in his mercy, will spare me in the other.” Her majesty goes on to express “ her intention of coming to Chaillot as soon as the weather should change for the better, provided her health continues to amend, seeing she gains strength very slowly.” She sends affectionate messages to the “ sisterhood in general, and to some of the invalids by name, requesting the prayers of the community for herself and her son, who is at present,” she says, “ at the waters of Plombi^res.” This very interesting letter concludes with these words : — “ Adieu, my dear mother, till I can give you in person the particulars of the state of mind and body in which I am at present, and of my feelings when I believed myself dying, at which time both my heart and soul were far more tranquil than when I am well. It was one of the effects of God’s mercy on me.” ^ The utter prostration of physical powers in which the royal widow 1 His Bister, the countess de Grammont, died at an advanced age, somewhere about the ^as dead, and he retired to Poussd to live on year 1716. 2 Memoires de St. the alms of his niece, who was abbess of the Simon. Chaillot Kecords. convent there, rather than increase the bur- s Autograph letter of the widow of Jamea dens of the widow of his royal master. He II. to Angelique Priolo. Chaillot collection. 350 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ 1 7 1 4. remained for many weeks after this severe and dangerous illness, is probably the reason that her name is so little mentioned in connection with the political history of a crisis, in which, as the mother of the chevalier de St. George, she was only too painfully interested. The stormy conflicts on the subject of the succession, that rudely shook the ebbing sands of her august step-daughter, queen Anne, will be related in the biography of that queen. ^ During the last weeks of queen Anne’s illness, Mary Beatrice trans- mitted the intelligence she obtained on that subject regularly to her son. Her proceedings were of course closely watched. Prior, in his despatch to lord Bolingbroke, of August 17, expresses himself uncertain whether his royal mistress was alive or dead. Mary Beatrice had received earlier tidings of the event, for we find, by the same letter, that she had sent off an express to her son in Lorraine, on the 12th of August, the day the news of queen Anne’s death reached her. The moment the chevalier de St. George learned the demise of his royal sister, he took post, and travelled incognito, with the utmost speed, from Barr to Paris, to consult the queen, his mother, and his other friends, “ having resolved,” says the duke of Berwick, “ to cross over to England to assert his rights.” ^ As he was prohibited from entering France, Mary Beatrice came to meet him at Chaillot, where the due de Lauzun had hired a small house, in his own name, for the reception of the royal adventurer, whose person was too well known at St. Germains for him to venture to brave the authority of his most Christian majesty by appearing there. Sur- rounded as both the mother and son were with spies, the secret of his arrival in the purlieus of Paris was quickly carried to the court of France. Louis XIY. had paid too dearly for his romantic sympathy for the widow and son of James II. on a former occasion, to commit himself a second time by infringing the peace of Utrecht, as he had done that of Ryswick, to dry the tears of an afflicted queen. France was not in a state to maintain a war : her monarch was turned of seventy-six ; the age of chivalry was over. Instead of trusting himself to listen to the impas- sioned pleadings of the Constance and Arthur of modern history, he wisely sent his cool-headed minister, De Torcy, to persuade the luckless claimant of the British crown to return whence he came ; and if he could not prevail, to tell him that he had orders to compel him to leave France without delay. As no invitation arrived from England, but on the con- trary George I. had been peacefully proclaimed, it was judged unad- visable for the chevalier to attempt to proceed thither, destitute as he was of money, ships, or men, and uncertain where to land.^ To have 1 The general history of that exciting more impartial view of things that so closely period has been ably condensed by a noble affected the passions and prejudices of con- historian of the present day, lord Mahon, who, temporaries than can rationally be expected having carefully collecthl many inedited from partisan writers on either side, documents connected with the events related 2 Memoires du Mareschal de Berwick, vol. in the authorized annals of the times, gives a ii p. 134. 3 ibid. 1714.] Sorrowful jparting from her son, 351 had the slightest chance of success, he ought to have been on the spot before the death of queen Anne, ready to make a prompt appeal to the suffrages of the people. Now there was nothing to be done but to await quietly the effect that might be produced by the manners and appear- ance of the new sovereign who had been called to the throne of the Plantageiiets. Harley played too fine a game to be understood by the sovereign whom he was the means of placing on the throne of Gi'eat Britain. He incurred the hatred and contempt of both parties by his diplomacy. The Jacobite mob threw halters into his coach as he went to proclaim George I. ; and George I., in return for that service, took an early oppor- tunity of impeaching him of high treason for having entered into secret correspondence with the court of St. Germains, that correspondence which had, in effect, beguiled the son of James II. from coming over to make a personal appeal to the feelings of his sister and the people of England. Mary Beatrice and her son perceived, too late, how completely they had been fooled by the diplomacy of Harley. It must be confessed that neither the queen nor the earl of Middleton had placed any confidence in the professions of that statesman, till by the disbursement of a quarter’s payment of the long-contested dower he gave a tangible voucher of his good intentions towards the Stuart cause. It was, in sooth, eleven thousand seven hundred and fifty pounds cleverly employed in throwing dust into the eyes of those whose confidence he, by that politic sacrifice, succeeded in winning. The parting between Mary Beatrice and her son was, of course, a sorrowful one. The prince returned to Barr, and from Barr proceeded to Plombieres, where he issued a manifesto, asserting his right to the crown of England, and proclaiming “ the good intentions of the late princess, his sister, in his favour.” This declaration turned, in some measure, the table on the treacherous members of queen Anne’s cabinet, who had played fast and loose with the court of St. Germains, and was followed by the disgrace of Harley, Ormonde, and Bolingbroke.^ The young queen of Spain, who was a princess of Savoy, sister to the late dauphiness, Adelaide, and grand' daughter of Henrietta of England, kept up an affectionate correspondence with Mary Beatrice, whom she always addressed as her dear aunt. Mary Beatrice received a very pleas- ing letter from this friendly princess during her abode at Chaillot, telling her “ how much pain she had felt at the reports of her illness, and thanking her for her goodness in having had prayers for her and her con- sort put up in the convent of Chaillot.” Her majesty entreated “ that they might be continued till after her deliver}^ as she was now in her eighth month, and should be compelled to remain in bed for the rest of the time.” On the birth of the expected infant, which proved a son, the king of Spain wrote, with his own hand, to announce that event to 1 Lord Mahon's History of Great Britain, from the peace of Utrecht. 352 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ 1 7 1 • Mary Beatrice ; and as she was still treated by that monarch and his cei’emonious court with the same punctilious respect as if she had been the queen-mother of a reigning sovereign, the royal letter was delivered to her, in all due form, by the secretary to the Spanish embassy, who came in state to Chaillot, and requested an audience of her majesty for that purpose. Mary Beatrice received also a letter from the princess des Ursins, giving a very favourable account of the progress of the queen, and telling her, “ that the new infant was to be named Ferdinand — a name revered in Spain.” Mary Beatrice wrote, in reply, to the king of Spain, congratulating him on this happy event. In her reply to the princess des Ursins, after expressing her joy at the safety of the queen of Spain, she says : — “ I pray you to embrace for me the dear little prince of the Asturias, to w’^hom I wish all the blessings, spiritual and temporal, that God in his grace may be pleased to bestow. And I beg you to tell him, as soon as he can understand what it means, that he has an old great-great-aunt, who loves him very much.” ^ Meantime, in consequence of the death of the due de Berri, the last surviving grandson of France, in the preceding May, the court of Y er- sailles was scarcely less agitated with cabals and intrigues regarding the choice of the future regent for the infant dauphin, than that of England had recently been on the question of the regal succession. The exiled queen of England was accused of aiding, with her personal influence, the attempt of madame de Maintenon to obtain that high and important post for her pupil, the due de Maine, Louis XlY.’s son by Montespan, in preference to the due d’Orleans, to whom it of right belonged. The veteran intriguante, to whom the weight of fourscore years had not taught the wisdom of repose from the turmoils of state, fancied, that if her pupil obtained the regency, she should still continue to be the ruling power in France. Louis XIY. was reluctant to make a will at all, and still more so to degrade himself in the opinion of the world by making testamentary dispositions, such as he foresaw must be set aside by the great peers of France. Madame de Maintenon carried her point, nevertheless, by the dint of her persevering importunity. The part ascribed to Mary Beatrice is not so well authenticated ; on the contrary, it appears that it was to her that the vexed monarch vented the bitterness of his soul on this occasion. When he came to Chaillot to meet her, on the 28th of August, 1714, the moment he saw her, he said, “ Madam, I have made my will. They tormented me to do it,” continued he, turning his eyes significantly on madame de Maintenon as he spoke, “ and I have had neither peace nor repose till it was done.” Mary Beatrice attempted to soothe his irritation, by commending him for his prudential care in settling the government for his infant heir before his death. The answer of the aged king was striking : “ I have purchased some repose 1 Diary of Chaillot. 353 1714.] Bespect of duchess of Orleans for exiled queen. for myself by what I have done, but I know the perfect uselessness of it. Kings, while they live, can do more than other men ; but after our deaths, our wills are less regarded than those of the humblest of our subjects. We have seen this by the little regard that was paid to the testamentary dispositions of the late king my father, and many other monarchs. Well, madam, it is done, come what may of it ; but, at least, they will not tease me about it any more.” ^ “ The queen Beatrix Eleanora, wife of James II.,” says Elizabeth Charlotte, duchess of Orleans, “ lived too well with the Maintenon for it to be credible that our late king was. in love with her. I have seen a book, entitled the Old Bastard protector of the Young, in which was re- counted a piece of scandal of that queen, and the late pere de la Chaise. This confessor was an aged man, turned of fourscore, who bore no slight resemblance to an ass, having long ears, a large mouth, a great head, and a long face. It was ill imagined. That libel was even less credible than what they have said about our late king.” 2 it is rarely indeed that our caustic duchess rejects a gossip’s tale ; and her departure from her wonted custom of believing the worst of every one is the more remark- able in this instance, inasmuch as the widowed consort of James II. was the intimate friend, and in some things unadvisedly the ally, of ‘Ha vieUle Maintenon.” The duchess of Orleans complains that the latter had prejudiced the queen against her, so that she had, on some occasions, treated her with less attention than Avas her due. “ For instance,” she says, “ when the queen of England came to Marli, and either walked, with the king, or accompanied him in his coach on their return, the queen, the dauphiness, the princess of England, and all the other I)rincesses would be gathered round the king but me, for whom alone they did not send.” Our grumbling duchess attributes the friendship with which Mary Beatrice honoured Maintenon to the idea that princess had formed of her sanctity. “ She feigns so much humility and piety when with the queen of England,” continues the duchess of Orleans, still speak- ing of Maintenon, “ that her majesty regards her as a saint.” ^ It was considered a conclusive evidence of the matrimonial tie between Louis XIV. and madame de Maintenon, when it was seen that she occupied a fauteuil in the presence of the consort of James II., who never abated one iota of the state pertaining to a queen of England in matters on which that ceremonious court placed an absurd importance.* As soon as it was known that the king had been to visit queen Mary Beatrice at Chaillot, all the court considered it necessary to follow the royal example ; and as she made a point of offending no one by refusing to grant receptions, she found herself so much fatigued as to be glad to re- turn to St. Germains. 1 St. Simon. Duclos, and the duke of Berwick's Autobiography. 2 Fragmens Historiques. ^ 4 Simon. VOL, V. 2 A 854 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1715. The following spring, strange manifestations of popular feeling in favour of the disinherited representative of the old royal hne broke forth in various parts of England. The cries of No foreign government ! no Hanover !” “ Down with the roundheads !” “ St. George for Eng- land !” were reiterated in Oxford, London, Bristol, Bath, Leicester, and other large towns. The oak-leaves were, in spite of all prohibition, triumphantly displayed once more on the national festival of the 29th of May, with the words, “ A New Restoration,” superadded in many places. In London, on the 10th of June, white roses were worn in honour of the birthday of the chevalier de St. George ; and at night the mob compelled the householders to illuminate, and broke the windows of those who did not, and finished their saturnalia by burning the effigy of William HI. in Smithfield.^ It was the twenty-seventh anni- versary of the birth of the son of Mary Beatrice, and the only one which had been celebrated with anything like popular rejoicings. At Edinburgh, his health was publicly drunk at the town-cross, by the style and title of king James VIII., with acclamations. ^ The object of this wild enthusiasm was, like Robert the Unready, too tardy to take advantage of the movement which might have borne him triumphantly to a throne, if he had been at hand to encourage his friends. He waited for foreign aid ; if Henry lY., Edward IV., and Henry VII. had done so, neither would have died kings of England. The timidity of Mary Beatrice, arising from the excess of her maternal weakness for her son, continued to paralyze the spirit of enterprise requisite for the leader of such a cause. She declared, as lord Stair affirms, “ that without a fleet, and a proper supply of arms and troops, her son ought not to imperil the lives and fortunes of his devoted friends, by attempting a descent either on England or Scotland.” ^ It was probably for the pur- pose of impressing this caution on the mind of her son, that we find the royal invalid rousing herself to personal exertion once more, and com- mencing a journey to Plombi^res in a litter, on the 12th of June, to ob- tain an interview with him, as he was prohibited from entering the French dominions. The chevalier de St. George came to meet his mother at Plombi^res ; and after she had reposed herself there for a few days, induced her to accompany him on his return to the court of Barr, where she was most affectionately received by the friendly duke and duchess of Lorraine. The earl of Stair was immediately, as in duty bound, on the alert to trace the proceedings of the exiled queen and her son. On the 24th of J uly, he writes to his own cabinet : — “ I sent Barton to Lorraine, to be informed of the Pretender’s motions. I met the abbe du Bois in a wood, and gave him an accoimt 1 Jesse's History of the Two Pretenders, the insults offered to the reigning sovereign. Calamy bears record of the excited state of - Lockhart of Carnwath. the populace in favour of the Pretender, and ^ jytair’s Despatches. 1715.] Attends the death-hed of Louis XIV. 355 of the intelligence I had concerning the Pretender. I desired he would be particularly careful in informing himself concerning the Pretender’s designs, and how far the court meddled with them. I set a man to ob- serve lord Bolingbroke.’’ ^ Barton returned on the 29th of July from Barr, and the same day lord Stair reports that the Pretender is still there with the queen [his mother] ; everything quiet, and few people there. They talk,” adds his excellency, “ of his [the Pretender] going to Britain ; when his mother comes back, he will probably set out.” ^ The following passage, in a letter from the duke of Berwick to Torcy, the French minister, dated August 24, 1715, affords an amusing com- ment on the conduct and character of his renowned uncle : — “ I have received a letter from the duke of Marlborough, in which he expresses to me that he hopes much to enjoy the protection of M. le chevalier [St. George], accompanying these professions with a second present of two thousand pounds sterling. This gives me much hope, considering the character of my uncle, who is not accustomed to scatter his money thus, unless he foresees that it will prove of some utility.” CHAPTEB XII. Mary Beatrice returned to St. Germains in time to attend the death- bed of her old friend Louis XIY., and to use her influence with him for the last time in behalf of her son. The dying monarch exerted himself to write with his own hand to his grandson, the king of Spain, urging him to render all the assistance he could to his adopted son, as he called the chevalier de St. George, to aid in establishing him on the British throne.^ Louis had himself actually entered into serious engagements with queen Mary Beatrice to furnish arms for ten thousand men, and ships to transport them to Scotland. He had issued his commands for the preparation of the armament, and it was in a state of forwardness at the time when his death frustrated the dispositions he had made in favour of the expected rising in the north of England.^ “ He gave,” says the duke of Berwick, “all the orders that were necessary, and then calmly awaited his last hour. He had told the queen of England, several times, that he was not ignorant that, at his advanced age, he must soon expect to die ; and thus he prepared himself for it, day by day, that he might not be taken by surprise. They had a very different opinion of him in the world, for they imagined he would not suffer any- one to speak to him of death. I know, to a certainty, that what I have 1 Miscellaneous State Papers, in two quarto ^ Lemon tey’s Histoire de la Regence. vols., printed for Cadell, vol. ii. p. 532. * Histoire de la Regence. Memoires de 2 Ibid. Berwick. 2 a2 356 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ 171 5 * stated is true, having had it from the mouth of the queen herself, a princess of strict veracity.” ^ Louis XIV. breathed his last, September 1, 1715. Mary Beatrice was greatly afflicted, both for the loss of her old friend, and its depressing effect on the Jacobite cause at that momentous crisis. In the dispute that took place touching the guardianship of the infant king of France, she was appealed to by the duke of Maine and his party, as a person more in the confidence of the deceased monarch than any one. Her majesty deposed, in the presence of the duke and duchess de Lauzun, what had been said to her by Louis XIV. on the subject of his testa- mentary dispositions.” ^ It was unfortunate for Mary Beatrice, that, by a sort of negative implication with the rival faction patronized by madame de Maintenon, she incurred the ill-will of the regent Orleans, and furnished him with an excuse for repudiating the cause of her son. The death of Louis XIV. had produced an entire change in the aspect and interests of the French court. Madame de Maintenon found her- self, in her present adversity, as carefully shunned by the minions of fortune, as she had recently been courted and caressed. Not so wise in her generation as the children of this world, and acting in the kind sincerity of an honest heart, Mary Beatrice treated her afflicted friend with the tender sympathy and attention that were due to the relict of the deceased sovereign. Their first meeting was, by mutual appoint- ment, at Chaillot : madame de Maintenon was dressed in the deepest mourning, and looked ill and dejected. As soon as the queen saw her, she extended her arms towards her, and when they drew near each other, tenderly embraced her : both burst into tears. Their communications were long and affectionate. Mary Beatrice recurred frequently to the memory of her departed lord, king James, but with that holy sorrow which time and religion had softened and subdued. With her, there was a joy in her grief ; and, whenever madame de Maintenon related any instance of piety shown by Louis on his deathbed, her majesty was sure to rejoin, “that was like my sainted king; even he could not have done better.” Madame de Maintenon repeated this observation after- wards to the sisters of Chaillot, and said it had given her much comfort. Mary Beatrice returned the same evening to St. Germains. When she was ready to leave her chamber, after she had taken an affectionate farewell of madame de Maintenon, she asked for the abbess of Chaillot, who, with a train of the oldest sisters, attended her majesty to the gate. She spoke warmly in praise of madame de Maintenon, and the admirable frame of mind in wfflich she appeared. The abbess replied, “ that her majesty’s example had been very proper to animate that lady.” The queen raised her eyes to heaven with a look that sufficiently indicated 1 Histoire de la Regence. Memoires de 2 Duclos. Memoirs of the Regency, vol. i. Berwick. pp. 102, 103. 1715 .*] Her anxious councils at St, Germains, 357 the humility of her heart, and entering the chapel, she knelt down for a lew moments in the act of silent adoration with an air of such perfect self-abasement, that all present were deeply touched. She took the arm of the abbess as they left the chapel, and talked much of madame de Maintenon, and what she had been saying of Louis XIV., repeating, “that it reminded her of her own sainted monarch.” She bade the abbess a very gracious farewell, and requested her prayers for her son ; and then turning to the nuns, entreated that they would also pray for him.^ Mary Beatrice returned to St. Germains, to hold her anxious councils with Berwick and her son’s new secretary of state, lord Bolingbroke, as to the means of obtaining the necessary supplies for the Jacobite rising in Scotland. Bolingbroke’s frequent solicitations for that purpose to the regent Orleans only served to expose the designs of the friends of the cause, and to put the British government on the alert. The arms and stores that had been secretly provided by the friendship of the deceased king, Louis XIV., were on board twelve ships lying at Havre ; but just as they were ready to sail. Sir George Byng came into the roads with a squadron, and prevented them from leaving the harbour, and lord Stair, the British ambassador, demanded of the regent that they should be given up, as they were intended for the service of the Pretender. The regent, instead of doing this, ordered the ships to be unloaded, and the arms and ammunition to be carried to the king of France’s arsenal.^ This was one of the leading causes of the failure of the enterprise, since the bravest champions can do little without weapons. TTie rebellion in Scotland broke out prematurely, hurried on by the ardour of misjudging partisans. Its details belong to our national annals : all we have to do with it is to trace its effects on the personal history of the royal mother of the representative of the fated line of Stuart. Bolingbroke, in his letter to that prince, of September 21, after informing him that her majesty’s almoner, Mr. Innes, and captain O’ Flanigan had been consulting about providing a vessel to convey him to the scene of action, says : — “ The queen orders Mr. Innes to furnish money to O’Flanigan, and by that means he will guess at the service intended, as well as by what was said to him before my return ; but I shall say nothing to him, nor any- one else of the measure taken, because I know no better maxim, in all business, than that of trusting no creature with the least circumstance beyond what is absolutely necessary he should know in order to enable him to execute his part of the service.”® An excellent maxim, doubtless ; but the object of the new minister was evidently to alienate the confidence of the chevalier from the queen * Diary of Chaillot. 2 Documents in lord Mahon’s Appendix. Berwick’s Memoirs. St. Simon. 3 Lord Mahon’s Appendix. 358 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1715 and her councillors ; and more than that, to estrange him from the only person capable of giving good advice, the duke of Berwick. And that he had succeeded in creating a coolness, may he perceived even from the manner in which he speaks of the duke : — “ The duke of Berwick is gone to St. Germains, so that I shall have no opportunity of making either a secret or a confidence of this to him. I add no more as to his grace, though I should have something to say, because the queen tells me she has writ to your majesty her opinion, in which I most humbly concur.” The self-importance of the new secretary of state was piqued at finding that Mary Beatrice confided implicity in Berwick, and only partially in himself, and that, instead of having to communicate intelligence to her, she imparted it to him. He intended to be the head of the Stuart cause, and he found himself only employed as the hand. The queen and Berwick transacted all the secret correspondence and negotiations to- gether, and then employed him, not as a minister of state, but as an official secretary. Mary Beatrice directed Berwick to press Charles XII. of Sweden to perform his promise of landing 8,000 troops in Scotland, to assist her son ; but Charles was himself in great difficulties, being closely besieged at Stralsund at the very time his aid was solicited, and could only express his regret at being unable to accord the needful succours. The king of Spain revoked his promise of a pecuniary loan at the same time ; both these inauspicious circumstances being communi- cated by Mary Beatrice to Bolingbroke, he thus briefly announces the j twofold disappointment to the luckless chevalier de St. George : — i “I enclose to your majesty two letters from Stralsund with great i reluctance, since you will find by them that all our hopes of troops are vanished. I received them from the queen, whose packet accompanies this, and who intends to send your majesty’s servants down to you.” ^ Overtures were made at this time for a marriage between the regent’s unmarried daughter, mademoiselle de Yalois, and the chevalier de St. George. How far the queen was concerned in this project, does not appear : it certainly was not pushed with any degree of earnestness on the part of the prince, who apprehended that it would injure his popula- rity with his party in England. It has been said, that the young lady herself, being greatly in love with the royal knight-errant, who at that period excited a very romantic interest in France, besought her father to make her his wife ; to which the cautious regent replied, “ Nous verrons^ mafille; nous verronsT Meantime, the standard of the chevalier had been raised in Scotland, and a formidable insurrection, headed by lord Derwentwater and Mr. Forster, took place in Northumberland. On the second Sunday in October, the Protestant clergymen who acted as chap- lains to the rebel muster, prayed for the son of James H. by the style 1 Lord Mahon’s Appendix. 1715.] Prayed for in England as queen-mother, 859 and title of king James, and for Mary Beatrice by the designation of “ Mary, queen-mother.” ^ The same was done at Kelso, where a mixed congregation of Protestants and Koman catholics met in . the great kirk, to listen to a political sermon preached by the rev. Mr. Patten, on the text, “ The blessing of the first-born is his.” The gentlemen of the latter persuasion told the preacher, “ that they approved very well ol our liturgy, which they had never heard before.” ^ On the 28 th of October, the chevalier left Barr. Information was immediately given to the British ambassador, lord Stair, who went to the regent Orleans, and demanded, in the name of his sovereign George I., that orders should be issued to prevent his passage through France. “ If you can point out, to a certainty, the precise place where he may be found,” replied the regent, “ I will have him re-conducted to Lorraine ; but I am not obliged to be either spy or gaoler for king George.” ^ — “ Prudence prescribed to the regent a conduct, oblique enough to satisfy George I. without discouraging the Jacobites ; but the events precipi- tated themselves, as it were, with a rapidity which rendered it difficult to preserve a course sufficiently gliding.^ He summoned Contades, the major of the guards, into his presence, and there, before lord Stair, gave positive orders to him to intercept the prince on the road from Lorraine ; but aware of the unpopularity in which such a proceeding would involve him, he secretly instructed Contades not to find the person of whom he went in quest.” ® Berwick adds, “ that the chevalier, being warned of the intended arrest, kept out of the danger by taking a circuitous route. Contades, on his return, gave a flourishing account to Stair of all he had done during an absence of several days ; his excellency affected to be satisfied, yet shrewdly suspected that the regent had no particular desire to hinder the passage of the chevalier, and Contades no great relish for the commission that had been imposed on him. Stair sent his myrmi- dons out in all directions, to try to discover the road the prince was taking ; but he was so well disguised, and travelled with so few com- panions, that he never heard of him till it was too late to be of any use.” * Ko one was more uncertain of the movements of her son than the queen, for he dared not write to her, lest his letters should be inter- cepted. He had, withal, reason to suspect that she could not keep a secret, and that there were traitors at St. Germains, and spies within the hallowed pale of her favourite retreat at Chaillot. The feelings of the anxious mother, though they have never been unveiled to public view, may be imagined, after her only son, her last surviving child, had left a place of security, and set forth to join a desperate enterprise, with > Notes on the Life of Calamy. 5 M^moires de la Regence, by Lemontey> 2 Patten’s History of the Rebellion. See also Duclos, and St. Simon. 3 IVIemoirs of the Duke of Berwick. 6 Memoires du Mardschal Berwick. < Memoires de la Regence, par M. Lemontey. 360 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ 1715 . a bill of attainder hanging over him, and the price of blood on his head. Twelve precious inedited letters from the queen’s faithful friend, lady Sophia Bulkeley, who generally performed the office of private secretary to her royal mistress when unable to write herself to her friends at Chaillot, alford much interesting information connected with the personal history of Mary Beatrice at this period. They are addressed to the abbess and ex-abbess, la mere Deposee, of Chaillot, written in very bad French. Lady Sophia, though a Scotchwoman, and a Stuart of Blantyre by birth, had, during her seven-and-twenty years’ exile with her royal mistress, nearly forgotten her mother-tongue, and writes Perth, Fairte, and Stir- ling, Sirle, There is, however, a warmth of feeling and an affectionate simplicity in her style, worth all the meretricious graces and elegantly- turned periods of the classic Bolingbroke. The first letter of this valuable series of domestic documents is dated merely “ this 13th of November,” the date preceded by St. Andrew’s cross, the distinctive mark of this lady’s correspondence, from which our limits will only permit us to select such extracts as relate to the queen. Lady Sophia commences her first letter to the ex-abbess, written, she says, by desire of the queen, with inquiries after the health of the sisters of Chaillot, and then proceeds : — “ God be thanked, that of the queen is good, though she looks ill enough, which is not wonderful, considering the painful inquietude she suffers, and must continue to do till the king, her son, be established. Her majesty commands me to infoim you, of what you have probably heard some time ago, which is, that the king, my master, has left Lor- raine ; but this is all she can tell you at present, except that his affairs go on prosperously in Scotland, and that we reckon that the earl of Mar has at Perth twenty thousand men, well disciplined, and firmly united for the good cause, and that the duke of Argyle has not more than three thousand men in his camp. Moreover, in the north of England four provinces [counties] have declared for the good cause, and the Scotch — that is to say, a considerable portion of the army of the earl of Mar, are going, if possible, to join our friends in the north ; but as Argyle is encamped at Stirling, and guards the passage of the river and the bridges, where he is strongly entrenched, it is difficult to force it. Nevertheless, they hope soon to pass into England.”^ Such was the exaggerated account of the state of her son’s affairs in Scotland, which flattered the maternal hopes of the widowed consort of James II., while she was, at the same time, tortured with suspense and uncertainty on his account, not knowing what had become of him, whether he were in France, Scotland, or England, living or dead, at this momentous crisis of his fortunes. The earl of Mar had written to 1 Inedited Stuart Papers, in the Secret Archives of France. 361 1715 .] Plot for assassinating the chevalier, her on the 12th of October, giving her a statement of the proceedings of the insurgents, and earnestly demanding the presence of him they styled their king.^ “The queen begs you, my dear mother, and all the community,” Lady Sophia Buikeley concludes, “ to redouble, if it be possible, your holy prayers for the preservation of the person of the king, for the success of this great enterprise, and for the preservation of his faithful subjects. Her majesty ordered me to write yesterday, but we waited till this evening, having a hope that the letters from England, which ought to come to-day, might furnish some fresh news ; but as the post is delayed, her majesty would not longer defer inquiring what tidings you have, and communicating hers to you Have the goodness, my beloved mother, to tell my dear Catharine Angelique, that the queen is very sorry she has not time to answer her letter ; but she must not allow that to discourage her from writing, as her majesty is very glad to receive letters from her.” ^ Almost immediately after the date of this letter, the queen received an intimation of the movements of her son, who, dodged by the spies of the British embassy, had been playing at hide-and-seek for many days without venturing to approach the coast, though his friend, lord Walsh, lay at Nantes with a light-armed, swift-sailing vessel, ready to convey him down the Loire. The chevalier de St. George, and his friend William Erskine, brother to the earl of Buchan, who were wandering about in disguise, observed that portraits and descriptions of his person were set up in some of the post-houses to facilitate his apprehension. Another of his attendants, colonel Hay, falling in with a party that were lying in wait to seize the royal adventurer, very narrowly escaped being assassinated in mistake for him, as he was travelling in one of his post-carriages.® All of a sudden, the chevalier determined to come to Paris, to attend a general council of his friends, both French and Eng- lish, that was to be held at the hotel de Breteul, the house of the baron de Breteul et de Preully, a nobleman of great wealth and of distin- guished family, who had married the beautiful daughter of lord and lady O’Brien Clare, who had accompanied queen Mary Beatrice on her voyage to France, when she fled with her infant son in 1688. Lady Clare was the state housekeeper at St. Germains, and one of the ladies of the bed- chamber to the queen. The hotel de Breteul was the resort of all that was gay, gallant, and spirituel in Paris : it was also, of course, a general rendezvous for the friends of the house of Stuart. It was in the salons of the marquise de Chatelet, the sister of the baron de Breteul, they held their conferences."* When the queen was informed that her son meant to take Paris in 1 Letter of the earl of Mar, in Mrs. Thom- Soubise, by favour of M. Guizot, son’s Lives of the Jacobites, vol. i. 3 Stuart Papers. 2 Inedited Stuart PaiJers, in the hotel de * Souvenances de la Marquise de Crequi. 862 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1715. his route, she came to Chaillot to avail herself of the opportunity of making all necessary arrangements with him, and bidding him a per- sonal farewell.^ The following interesting particulars are recorded in the autobiography of one of the nieces of the baron de Breteul. “ The chevalier de St. George came very privately to Paris, in the dress of an abb^ with only one or two companions. He went directly to the hotel de Breteul, where he met all his friends and confederates.” It should seem, the young ladies of the family had the honour of being presented to him, which made a great impression on madame de Crequi, then mademoiselle de Froulay, a girl in her teens, who continues, “ He was at that time a very handsome and accomplished prince, and did not appear more than five or six-and-twenty years of age. We had the honour of making our curtsies to him, and he addressed some com- plimentary words to us; after which, he withdrew with his followers into my uncle’s cabinet, where they remained in conference great part of the night. At the dawn of day he departed for Chaillot, where the queen, his mother, who had come to meet him, was waiting for him at the convent of the Visitation. He slept in a little house which the due de Lauzun had, no one knew why, retained for his own use in that village. He remained there four-and-twenty hours.” ^ Mary Beatrice felt this parting with her son, on an expedition so full of peril, a severe trial. He was dearer to her than ever — the last tie that bound her to a world of care and sorrow ; but she suspected not that the only serious danger he was to encounter would be within a few hours after he had bidden her adieu.® The hotel de Breteul was a marked place, and everything that passed there was watched with jealous attention by the spies of lord Stair ; there was, besides, an unsuspected traitress within the domestic circle. Mademoiselle Emilie de Preully was so greatly piqued at the preference evinced by one of the prince’s gentlemen in waiting, lord Keith, for her cousin mademoiselle de Froulay, that she did all she could to injure the Jacobite cause out of revenge. Secret information of whatever designs came to her knowledge was communicated by her immediately to the earl of Stair.'* It was therefore, in all probability, through the ill offices of this inimical member of the family circle at the hotel de Breteul, that the intelligence of the chevalier de St. George’s visit was conveyed to the British embassy, together with the information that he was to set out the following day for Chateau Thierry on his way to the coast of Bretagne, and that he would change horses at Nonancourt. If we may believe the following statement of madame de Crequi, which is corro- borated by Lemontey, Duclos, St. Simon, and several other contemporary French writers, lord Stair, misdoubting the regent Orleans, instead of 1 Souvenances de la Marquise de Crequi. 2 Ibid. 3 Chaillot Records. 4 Souvenances de la Marquise de CrequL 1715.] Chevalier's narrow escape, 363 claiming his promise of arresting the unfortunate prince, determined to take surer measures on his own account, by sending people in his own employ to waylay him. Be this as it may, it is certain that the prince, after he had taken leave of the queen, his mother, started from Chaillot in one of the post-carriages of the baron de Breteul, attended by some horsemen who had put on the livery of that noble French family. At the entrance of the village of Nonancourt, which is not more than twenty leagues from Paris, a woman begged the postilions to stop, and stepping quickly on the boot of the carriage, she addressed the feigned abbe in these words : “ If you are the king of England, go not to the post-house, or you are lost ; for several villains are waiting there to murder you ” — rather a startling announcement for a man on whose head the tremendous price of 100,000Z. had been set by the British government. Without betraying any discomposure, he asked the woman who she was, and how she came by her information? She replied, “ My name is L’Hopital. I am a lone woman, the mistress of the post-house of Nonancourt, which I warn you not to approach ; for I have overheard three Englishmen, who are still drinking there, dis- cussing with some desperate characters in this neighbourhood a design of setting upon a traveller, who was to change horses with me to-night on his way to Chateau Thierry, where you are expected on your road to England.” She added, “that she had taken care to intoxicate the ruffians, and having locked the door upon them, had stolen out to warn him of his danger, beseeching him at the same time to confide implicitly in her good intentions, and allow her to conduct him to the house of the cure, where he would be safe.” ^ There was something so simple and earnest in the woman’s manner, that, stranger as she was to him, the royal adventurer resigned himself to her guidance, with that frank reliance on the generous impulses of the female character which no one of his race had ever cause to rue. She led him and his attendants safely to the house of the village pastor, and then ran to summon M. d’Argenson, the nearest magistrate, who came properly supported, and took three persons into custody at the post-house. Two of them were Englishmen, and produced lord Stair’s passports ; the other was a French baron, well known as a spy in the employ of that minister.^ The leader of the party w^as colonel Douglas, son of Sir William Douglas, an attache to the embassy, who assumed a high tone, and said “ that he and his companions were in the service of the British ambassador.” The magistrate coolly observed, that “no ambassador would avow such actions as that in which he was engaged,” and committed them all to prison Meantime, madame THopital 1 Souvenances de la Marquise de Crequi. 2 Lemontey. Duclos. St. Simon. Madame de Crequi. See the depositions signed by the magistrates, in Lemontey’s Appendix. 3 364 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ 1715 . despatched one of her couriers to the marquise de Torcy with a state- ment of what had occurred, and took care to send the chevalier forward on his journe}'’ in another dress, and in one of her own voitures, with a fresh relay of horses, with which he reached Nantes, and finding the vessel in waiting for him, descended the Loire, and safely arrived at St. Malo. Mary Beatrice wrote, with her own hand, to madame I’Hopital a letter full of thanks for the preservation of her son, hut that which charmed the good woman most was, the acknowledgments she received from the regent, who sent her his portrait as a testimonial ot his approbation of her conduct on this occasion. Keasons of state com- pelled the regent to stifle the noise made by this adventure, and he prevented the depositions of the post-mistress of Nonancourt and her servants from being published.^ Lady Sophia Bulkeley gives the superior of Chaillot the following confidential account of the state of mind in which her royal mistress and herself remained, during a second interval of suspense that intervened before tidings of the chevalier’s proceedings reached the anxious little court at St. Germains : — “ This 28 of November. “ As the queen intends to write to you, my dear mother, I shall not say much, except to let you know that, through the mercy of God, the queen is well, and received yesterday news from Scotland and the north of England ; but still her majesty can hear no tidings of the king, her son. Her majesty doubts not of the fervour and zeal of your prayers to the Lord for his preservation. The lively and firm faith of the queen supports her, which makes me every moment reproach myself for being so frequently transported with fears for the safety of the king. I take shame to myself, when I see how tranquil the hope she has in Divine Providence renders the queen ; but I pray you not to notice this in your reply, for I put on the courageous before her majesty.” 2 Under the impression that her son had embarked at St. Malo, Mary Beatrice enclosed a packet of letters for him to the earl of Mar in Scot- land, to whom she also wrote.^ But the chevalier, though he went on board ship, w^aited several days for a favourable wind, and finally learn- ing that the forces of George I. occupied Dunstafnage,"* where he intended to land, and that there was a squadron on the look-out for him, came on shore again, and travelled privately on horseback to Dunkirk, where he embarked on board a small vessel of eight guns, attended by six gentle- men only, who were disguised like himself in the dress of French naval * But those documents are still in existence, and have been printed in the Appendix of I^emontey’s Histoire de la Regence. See also letter of Mareschal d’Uxelles to M. Iberville, minister from France to the court of Sweden, dated 9th December, 1715. 2 Inedited autograph letter, in the hdtel de Soubise. 3 Mar Correspondence, in Mrs. Thomson’t Lives of the Jacobites. 4 Memoirs of the Duke of Berwick. 1715.] Queen^s suspense and anxiety, 365 officers.^ He was seven days in performing the voyage, and it was long ere the news of his safe landing reached his anxious mother. On the 5 th of December, lady Sophia Bulkeley writes, by the desire of her royal mistress, to the superior of Chaillot, to inquire after the health of the community, and to tell them the floating rumours that had reached her from the scene of action. “ Her majesty,” she says, “ continues well, but, as you may truly suppose, very restless, till she can receive sure intelligence of the arrival of the king, her son, in Scotland. There are reports, but we imagine without foundation, that the faithful friends of the king have been defeated in England. On the other hand, they say that the earl of Mar has beaten our enemies in Scotland, but that wants confirming. However, there are many letters which corroborate the latter rumour ; yet we dare not flatter ourselves at present, for if it be really so, there will surely arrive between this and to-morrow morning the verification, which the queen will not fail to communicate to the dear sister Catharine Angelique, as she intends to write to her ; therefore, it will not be necessary for me to inflict on you the trouble of reading a longer letter of my scrawling ” ^ “ griffon- nage^^ is the word. It is certainly graphically descriptive of the queer caligraphy of the noble amanuensis, to say nothing of her misapplication of capitals to adjectives and adverbs, and small letters for names of places ; but her unaffected sympathy for the royal mistress, whose exile and adversity she had shared for seven-and-twenty years, makes every word from her pen precious. She adds two postscripts to this letter ; the first, to tell the abbess that the due de Lauzun had just arrived at St. Germains, but was not likely to remain more than twenty-four hours ; the second, which is dated five o’clock in the evening, shows that he was the bearer of heavy tidings, which lady Sophia thus briefly intimates : — “ The bad news from the north of England having been confirmed, and that from Scotland none too good, the queen orders me to tell you, my dearest mother, that she cannot write. And I am to tell you, that she doubts not that you will redouble your prayers for the preservation of the person of the king, her son, for the prosperity and consolation of his faithful subjects.” ^ The disastrous intelligence which Lauzun had come to St. Germains to break to Mary Beatrice, was no less than the death-blow of her son’s cause in England, in consequence of the cowardly or treacherous con- duct of Mr. Forster at Preston, and the defeat and surrender of the rebel army there on the 13th of November, together with the loss of the battle of Sheriffmuir, in Scotland, on the same day. The queen and her faithful ladies spent their melancholy Christmas * Lord Mahon’s History of England, from ^ inedited Stuart Papers, in the hCtel de the Peace of LT trech t. Soubise 2 Stuart Papers, in the hotel de Soubise. 366 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1715. at St. Germains, in painful uncertainty of what had become of the chevalier de St. George. Lady Sophia Bulkeley writes again to the superior of Chaillot, on the 29th of December, telling her “ that the queen continued well, and had been able to attend, for nine successive days, the services of the church for that holy season, which,” continues lady Sophia, “have been very consolatory to her majesty, who only breathes for devotion.” Her ladyship goes on to communicate the messages of her royal mistress to her cloistered friends in these words : — “ The queen commands me to tell you, that as soon as she receives any good news, she will not fail to impart it. She says, you are not to give credit to the report, which she understands you have heard, that the Scotch wish to make peace with the duke of Hanover ; for it is not true, although their affairs are not in so good a condition as they were. The season is so inclement there, that they cannot do anything on either side. God has his seasons for all things, and we must submit to His holy will, and not cease to hope in His mercy, since our cause is just.” ^ The manner in which lady Sophia speaks of her royal mistress is very interesting : — “ Although you know the great virtue of the queen, my dear mother, you would be surprised to see with what firmness her majesty supports all the trying events that have come upon her since she has been at St. Germains. Keturn thanks to God, my dear mother, for all the grace he has given the queen, and request of him a con- tinuation of it for her ; also for the preservation of her who is so dear to us.” This unaffected tribute of affection and esteem from one of the noble British matrons of her bedchamber, who had lost everything for her sake, surely affords a presumptive evidence of the moral worth of the consort of James II. It is a common saying, that no man is a hero to his valet-de-chambre ; but this proverb appears reversed with regard to our unfortunate queen, for the more we search into the records that have been borne of her by her personal attendants, and all those who enjoyed the opportunity of observing her conduct in her most unreserved hours of privacy, the brighter does the picture grow. Be it also noticed, that no one who knew her intimately has ever spoken ill of her, although she was not, of course, free from the faults of temper and errors of judg- ment inherent in human nature. It may be said, that those who have commended Mary Beatrice were partial witnesses, being her servants and personal friends ; nor can this be denied, seeing that they gave proofs of attachment not often to be met with among courtiers. Partial they were, for they preferred her in her poverty, exile, and adversity, to her powerful and prosperous rivals, the regnant queens, Mary and Anne. They preferred her service to their own interests, and were contented to * Inedited Stuart Papers, in the hotel de Soubise. 1715 .] The chevalier lands in Scotland. 367 be poor expatriated outlaws for her sake ; and being thus faithful in deeds, is it likely that they would be unfaithful in their words ? or less worthy of credit than the unscrupulous writers who performed an accept- able service to her powerful enemies by calumniating her ? The new year, 1716, opened drearily on Mary Beatrice. Every day agitated her with conflicting rumours of victories and defeats, and it was not till the 10th of January that she received certain tidings that her son had reached his destination in safety. Lady Sophia Bulkeley com- municates the welcome news to the abbess of Chaillot in the following animated letter, which will best describe the feelings with which it was received by the royal mother : — “ This Friday, 10th of Jan. “ By the order of the queen, my dearest mother, I have the honour and the pleasure of informing you, that, by the grace of God, the king, my master, landed in Scotland on Tuesday week, at Feter^s Head [Peter- head], in spite of fourteen or fifteen English vessels that were hovering on the coast to take him. After that, can we doubt that holy Provi- dence protects him in all things ? or of the goodness of God towards our dear king for the time to come ? The queen is well, thanks be to the Lord. Her majesty and all of us are, as you may well believe, trans- ported with joy. Will you assist lis, my very dear mother, in offering up thanksgivings to God for his goodness, and asking of him a continu- ation of them ? I cannot tell you more at present.” Indorsed — “ To the very reverend mother Superior of the ladies of St. Marie de Chaillot, at Chaillot.” ^ The letter of the chevalier himself, announcing his arrival, was written to his secretary of state, lord Bolingbroke, and is dated three weeks earlier. It is very short, and will, perhaps, be acceptable to the reader ; “James Stuart to Lord Bolingbroke. ^ “ Peterhead (Scotland), Dec. 22, 1715. “I am at last, thank God, in my own ancient kingdom, as the bearer will tell you, with all the particulars of my passage, and his own pro- posals of future service. Send the queen ^ the news I have got, and give a line to the regent, en attendant^ that I send you from the army a letter from our friends, to whom I am going to-morrow. I find things in a prosperous way. I hope all will go on well, if friends on your side do their part as I shall have done mine. My compliments to Magni ; tell him the good news. I don’t write to him, for 1 am wearied, and won’t delay a moment the bearer. “ J. R.” In his letter, dated Kinnaird, January 2, 1716, the chevalier sends several messages to the queen, his mother. He speaks of his own * Inedited Stuart Papers, in the hotel de 2 Lord Mahon, vol. i., Appendix, p. xxxiv. Soubise, Paris. * His mother, queen Mary Beatrice. 368 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ 171 5 ^ situation cheerfully, though he owns, with some humour, that he haa nothing to begin the campaign with “ but himself, “ All was in confusion,” he says, “ before my arrival : terms of accom- modation pretty openly talked of. The Highlanders returned home, and but 4000 men left at Perth. Had I retarded some days longer, I might have had a message not to come at all. My presence, indeed, has had, and will have, I hope, good effects. The affection of the people is beyond all expression We are too happy if we can maintain Perth this winter : that is a point of the last importance. We shall not leave it without blows. “ I send to the queen, my mother, all the letters I mention here, that she may peruse them, and then agree with you the best ways of for- warding them. You will show her this, for mine to her refers to it. There will go by the next messenger a duplicate of all this packet, except my letter to the queen.” ^ Mary Beatrice had endured the conflicts of hope and fear, the pangs of disappointment, and the tortures of suspense for upwards of four months, with the patience of a Christian and the firmness of a heroine, so that, as we have seen by lady Sophia Bulkeley’s letters, every one was astonished at her calmness, when all around her were in a state of ex- citement and alarm ; but directly she received the cheering intelligence that her son had landed in Scotland, where his presence had been vainly demanded for the last thirteen years, the revulsion of feeling overpowered her feeble frame, and she was attacked with a nervous fever, which rendered her incapable of further exertion. Lady Sophia Bulkeley, to whose correspondence with the nuns of Chaillot we are indebted for these interesting particulars connected with the almost forgotten mother of the chevalier de St. George, at the period of the disastrous attempt of his friends in Scotland to restore him to the throne of his forefathers, writes on the 29th of January, 1716, by desire of her royal mistress, to the abbess of Chaillot, to tell her “ that her majesty was progressing favour- ably towards convalescence, though still feeble. After having kept her bed fifteen days, the queen had sat up the day before for the first time, and was so much better, that nothing but her weakness prevented her from being dressed and going on as usual ; that she now slept well, and the chevalier Garvan, her physician, would not allow her to take bark oftener than twice in four-and- twenty hours, which he meant her to continue for some time to come. If the weather were not so inclement, her majesty would soon be restored,” continues lady Sophia ; “ for, thank God ! she recovers very rapidly after these sort of illnesses when once the fever leaves her, by which we perceive that her constitution is naturally good. The queen has not received anything since the arrival of the courier from the king who brought the news of his landing. She 1 Lord Mahon's Appendix, from Stuart Papers in her Majesty's collection at Windsor. 369 1715.] Chevalier affecii'onately received in Scotland, is expecting every moment to see one arrive, but, apparently, the contrary winds cause the delay. In the meantime, some of the letters Irom Edinburgh notice that the king arrived at Perth on the 7 th, and that all the nobles in the duke of Mar’s army went on before to receive his majesty. They appeared transported with joy to see him, and the following day he reviewed his army at Perth.” The enthusiastic affection of lady Sophia Bulkeley for the cause, combined with her droll French, has the effect of making her identify herself in this letter with the Jacobite army at Perth ; for she says : “ The enemy threatens much to attack us before our forces can be drawn together. Their numbers much exceed ours at Perth.” After communicating the usual petition of the queen for more prayers for the success and preservation of the king, she adds : — To tell you the truth, I fear he will have much to do ere he can be put in possession of his crowns, but I doubt not that time will come after many troubles ; for I should fail in my duty to Grod, if I doubted of his protecting the king, my master, after having preserved him through so many perils from the time he was three months old. I should have little faith, if I could doubt that his holy Providence would always take care of our lawful king, and, after having thoroughly proved him as gold in the furnace, giving him the victory over his perfidious enemies.” After this enthusiastic burst of loyalty, which may be forgiven in a lady who claimed kindred with the royal house of Stuart, and who had been present at the birth of the exiled heir of that ill-fated line, lady Sophia adverts to a subject of nearer, if not dearer interest to herself ; — “ May I not venture,” she says, “my dearest mother, to entreat you to think of me in your prayers to the Lord, and of my son, who set out on Wednesday fortnight for Scotland? God grant that he be arrived in some safe port ; but, unhappily, a gentleman belonging to the king, my master, named Mr. Booth, is supposed to have perished on the English coast, or to have been taken prisoner.^ God grant that the fate of my son may be better !” Nothing could be nearer to a tragic termination than the expedition in which Mr. Bulkeley, the son of this noble lady, and his two companions, the marquis of Tynemouth, eldest son of the duke of Berwick, and Sir John Erskine, were engaged. They had been deputed by the queen and the duke of Berwick to convey to the aid of the chevalier, in Scot- land, a hundred thousand crowns in ingots of gold, which the king of Spain had at last granted to the earnest importunities of the royal widow in behalf of her son ; “ but,” says the duke of Berwick, “ everything 1 “ Poor Booth,” writes the chevalier de St. lagged behind mine.”— Stuart Papers in lord George to Bolingbroke, “ I am in pain for. Mahon’s Appendix, from her Majesty’s colleo We passed Dunkirk together, and I heard no tion at Windsor, more of him after the next day that his ship VOL. V. 370 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [1715. appeared to conspire to ruin our projects. The vessel in which they were was wrecked on the coast of Scotland, and, as it was in the night, they had barely time to save themselves by means of the shallop, with- out being able to carry away any of the ingots, which they had concealed in the hold of the ship.” The vessel was lost near the mouth of the Tay, for want of a pilot. A regal diadem was to have been made for the intended coronation of the luckless son of James II. at Scoon, of some of the gold with which this bark was freighted. Well might that prince, in his address to his council, observe, “ For me, it is no new thing if I am unfortunate. My whole life, even from my cradle, has been a constant series of misfortunes.” He was, at that tin^e, suffering from the depressing influence of the low intermittent fever, to which he inherited, from his mother, a constitutional tendency. The queen still kept her chamber, when lady Sophia Bulkeley wrote by her desire on the 5th of January, to communicate to the abbess of Chaillot the intelligence of her son’s proceedings in Scotland. A gentle- man had just arrived from Perth with letters, and had rejoiced the anxious ladies at St. Germains and their royal mistress, with an ac- count of the universal rapture which pervaded all ranks of the people in that quarter of Scotland, at beholding the representative of their ancient monarchs among them again, or, as the refrain of the Jacobite song written on that occasion has it : — “ The auld Stuarts back agaiu.*' “ The queen,” writes lady Sophia Bulkeley,^ “ has waited, that she might send you her tidings, which, thanks to the Lord, are. good. She was hoping to tell you all about the king, her son, because she was expecting every moment the arrival of a courier from him ; and now a gentleman has just come, who left the king my master in perfect health on Saturday week. All the Scotch in the neighbourhood were delighted beyond description to see him. All the world came to kiss his hand, in such crowds, that he was obliged to extend them both at once, so that he might be able to save a little time to attend to business. The noblemen and officers were charmed to find that he could understand them so well. “ My lord Edward wrote to my lad}^ his wife, that, without seeing, no one could conceive the joy with which the people were trans- ported. J'he gentleman who has come says, ‘ that he believes the king is crowned that is to say, consecrated, ‘ for he was to be in a few days at the time of his departure.’ In short, my dear mother, the affairs of his majesty are in as favourable a train as the}" can be in this inclement season, for they have just the same weather there as here, only the cold is more severe.” " A melancholy reverse is presented to this flattering picture by turning 1 Inedited Stuart Letters, in the hotel de Soubise. 2 Ibid. 371 lyib.] Anxiety at St, Germains, to the history of the rebellion, by which it appears, that at the very time queen Mary Beatrice and her ladies were rejoicing and offering up thanksgivings to God for these imaginary successes, and the royal mother was pleasing herself with the idea that the coronation of her son, as king of the ancient realm of Scotland, had actually taken place, that his recognition in London would quickly follow, and that her eyes would look upon his consecration in Westminster-abbey, the desperate enter- prise was already at an end, and he in whose behalf it had been under- taken was a fugitive. The duke of Berwick declares ‘‘ that from the first there was no hopes of a successful issue in this desperate enter- prise, and that when the prince arrived in Scotland, he found his cause in a most melancholy position. His army, which the earl of Mar had in his letters exaggerated to sixteen thousand men, did not amount to more than four or five thousand, ill armed and badly disciplined ; while Argyle had a great train of artillery, and a very great superiority in numbers of well-armed veteran troops.”^ Argyle was, at one time, within eight miles of Perth, and, for reasons best known to himself, refrained from attacking the Jacobite forces.^ It might be that he was willing to spare the slaughter of so many of his countrymen, and wished not to bring the blood of the unfortunate representative of the ancient royal line of Scotland on his house ; but, from whatever motive, it is certain that he allowed him to escape, when he might have annihilated him and his little army. The chevalier, at first, refused to avail himself of the opportunity of retiring from Scotland ; and it was not till he was assured that, by with- drawing, he would enable his unhappy friends to make their peace with the Britannic government, that he could be induced to do so.® When he embarked for Montrose, he sent a sum of money, the remnant of his slender resources, with a letter to Argyle, desiring it might be applied to the relief of the poor people whose villages he had reluctantly given orders to burn ; “ so that,” said he, “ I may, at least, have the satisfac- tion of having been the destruction of none, at a time when I came to free all.” ^ Such tenderness of conscience passed for an unheard-of mixture of folly and weakness in times like those. But to return to the queen his mother, of whom lady Sophia Bulkeley gives the superior of Chaillot the following intelligence in a letter dated February 5 : — “ Her majesty had entirely left her bed since my last, and had been daily taking a few turns in her chamber till yesterday, when the gout attacked her two feet. The chevalier Garvan [her physician] entreated her to keep in bed, because the inflammatory action would pass off the sooner. This her majesty has proved ; for she is * Memoires du Mareschal Berwick. 3 M^moires du Maresclial Berwick, Lord Mahon’s Hist, of England. Cham- * Lord Mahon. Chambers, bers’o Hist, of the Rebellion. 2 B 2 372 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ 1716 . much better to-day than she was yesterday. Her majesty sends her regards to her dear friends.” In her concluding paragraph, lady Sophia thus adverts to the frightful peril in which her own son had been involved, of which she had just heard from the gentleman who brought the letters from the chevalier to queen Mary Beatrice : — “ I entreat you, my dear mother, to have the goodness to assist me in returning thanks to the Almighty for the escape of the earl of Tyne- mouth and my son, about a fortnight back, from the wreck on the coast of Scotland. Happily, they were not above twenty miles from Perth, and the gentleman who has arrived here to-day says that they had joined the king before he departed. You see what great cause I have to offer up my thanksgivings to God.” 1 The sanguine anticipations which had been raised at St. Germains by the flattering reports of the prince’s messenger, were too quickly destroyed by accounts of the hopeless position of the Stuart cause. On the 16 th of February, lady Sophia Bulkeley tells the abbess of Chaillot, that anguish of heart had made the queen ill again ; but still she trusted that her majesty would rally in a day or two, unless some very sad news should arrive to agitate her.” “ That which we have from England this evening,” ^ continues her ladyship, intimates that our enemies intend to give us battle soon, if they have not done so already. As they far outnumber the king’s army, and are all regular troops, we have much to fear. I tell you these things frankly, my dear mother, that you may see what need there is of your prayers ; but make no observation, if you please, on this passage, for the queen reads all your letters herself.” * Thus we see that lady Sophia, although she was writing this letter in her capacity of private secretary to her majesty, was able to intro- duce information, of which the ladies at St. Germains had deemed it expedient to keep their royal mistress in ignorance. Nothing could be more pitiable than the state of trembling apprehension in which both the queen and her noble attendants awaited the arrival of letters and newspapers from England, Scotland, and Holland. The Dutch gazette was, at that time, a less restricted medium of publishing the events of the day than any English journal whatsoever. Editors and printers in London could not be induced to print authentic accounts of anything touching on political matters during the suspension of the habeas corpus act. The queen’s distress of mind, at this trying season, was aggravated by the conduct of her son’s secretary of state, lord Bolingbroke, who, instead of showing the slightest consideration for her maternal anxiety, treated 1 Inedited Stuart Papers in the hotel de Soubise, through the favour of M. Guizot. 2 Ibid. 3 Ibid. 373 1716 .] Safe return of her son . her with marKed disrespect, and neither attempted to commnnicate intelligence, nor to consult her on what steps ought to he taken for the assistance of him he called his master. Ever since the death of Louis XIY., he had regarded the cause of the chevalier de St. George as hope- less ; and, according to lord Stair’s report, he did his utmost to render it so, by squandering, in his own profligate pursuits, the money with which he had been too confldingly entrusted to buy powder and other supplies for the Jacobite muster.^ Mary Beatrice was, meantime, suffering great pecuniary difficulties, which are alluded to by lady Sophia Bulkeley, in reply to some appeal that had been made to her majesty’s benevolence through the abbess of Chaillot, to whom she says : “ The queen orders me to tell you, that she is much grievea (her finances are so scanty) that it is out of her power to do anything for this lady. The queen, between ourselves,” continues lady Sophia, “ has never been in greater distress for money than she is at present. They are now [the old story] eight months in arrear with her pension. The Lord, I hope, will com- fort her majesty, and reward her great patience, by giving her shortly her own. I cannot cease to believe it, and to hope in God against all human hopes. The prisoners taken in England are condemned to death.” ^ The next event in the life of Mary Beatrice was the return of her luckless son. The chevalier de St. George landed safely at Gravelines,® about February 22, and came secretly in disguise to see her at St. Ger- mains, where, in spite of the interdict against his presence in the French dominions, he remained with her several days ^ — a consolation she had scarcely ventured to anticipate, after the disastrous termination of his expedition to Scotland. More than once she had said, during his absence, that she could be content, if he were spared to her, to say, like Jacob, “ It is enough : Joseph, my son, yet liveth ® but to look upon his face once more, she had scarcely ventured to expect. The morning after the arrival of the chevalier at St. Germains, lord Bolingbroke came to wait upon him, and advised him to return to Barr as quickly as possible, lest he should be denied an asylum there.® It was, however, an indipensable matter of etiquette, that permission should first be requested of the duke of Lorraine, and that the prince should wait for his answer. After lingering at St. Germains longer than prudence warranted, he bade his widowed mother farewell, and set out for Chalons-sur-Marne, where he told her and Bolingbroke it was his intention to wait for the reply of the duke of Lorraine. But he proceeded no further than Malmaison, and then, retracing his steps, went * Letter of the earl of Stair to Horace Wal- * Memoires du Mareschal de Berwick, pole. — Walpole Correspondence, by Coxe. ^ MS. Memorials by a nun of Chaillot. 2 Inedited Stuart Papers, in the hotel de ® Memoires de Berwick. Bolingbroke Cor- Soubise, Paris, respondence. 3 Letter of lord Bolingbroke to Wyndhara. 374 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ 1716 . to the house of mademoiselle de Chausseraye, at Neuilly ; and her majesty had the surprise and mortification of learning that he spent eight days there/ in the society of several intriguing female politicians, and held private consultations with the Spanish and Swedish ambassadors, from which his best friends were excluded. The royal mother would possibly have remained in ignorance of circumstances, alike painful to her and injurious to him, if his rupture with Bolingbroke had not betrayed the unsuspected secret to her and all the world. The duke of Berwick, dazzled with the wit and literary accomplish- ments of Bolingbroke, attached a value to that false brilliant which he was far from meriting, and declared, “ that the chevalier had committed an enormous blunder in dismissing from his service the only English- man capable of managing his affairs.” ^ Mary Beatrice, who placed a greater reliance on Berwick’s judgment than on her own, acted, probably, in compliance with his suggestions in sending a conciliatory nlessage to Bolingbroke, assuring him “ that she had no concern in his dismissal, and expressed a hope that she might be able to adjust the difierences between him and her son.” The tone in which “ all-accomplished St. John” rejected her proffered mediation, savoured more of his round- head education than of the classical elegance of phraseology for which he has been celebrated. “He was now,” he said, “a free man, and wished his arm might rot off, if he ever again drew his sword or his pen in her son’s cause.” ^ It is doubtful whether butcher Harrison, or any other low-bred member of “ the rump,” could have replied to a fallen queen and distressed mother in terms more coarsely unmannerly. Lord Stair, who appears to have been somewhat better acquainted with Bolingbroke’s proceedings than the duke of Berwick, gives the fol- lowing sneering account of the affair to his friend Eobert Walpole : — “ Poor Harry is turned out from being secretary of state, and the seals are given to lord Mar. They call him knave and traitor, and God knows what ; I believe all poor Harry’s fault was, that he could not play his part with a grave enough face ; he could not help laughing now and then at such kings and queens. He had a mistress here at Paris, and got drunk now and then ; and he spent the money upon his mistress that he should have bought powder with, and neglected buying the powder or the arms, and never went near the queen [Mary Beatrice], 1 Berwick. 2 The loss of the services of a statesman who had changed his party rather oftener than the vicar of Bray, and had been false to all, was, with all due submission to honest Berwick, no great misfortune. “ The enor- mous blunder,” committed by the chevalier de St. George, was, in ever having employed and placed confidence in a person devoid alike of religious principles and moral worth ; and having done so, to dismiss him in a manner which afforded a plausible excuse for proving that his enmity was not quite so lukewarm as his friendship. As might be expected, a series of treacherous intrigues between Bolingbroke and the Walpole ministry were commenced, to pave the way for his return from exile. Dr. Johnson's abhorrence of this infidel was founded more on principles of moral justice, than on his own well-known predilection for the Jacobite cause. 3 Lord Mahon’s History of England. 1716.] Melancholy sjpring at St. Germains. 375 For the rest, they [the Jacobites] begin to believe that their king is unlucky, and that the westerly winds and Bolingbroke’s treasons have defeated the finest project that ever was laid.” ^ The letters of Mary Beatrice to her friends at Chaillot at this exciting period, have been apparently abstracted from the collection preserved in the hotel de Soubise ; for although she generally employed lady Sophia Bulkeley as her amanuensis in the Chaillot correspondence, she occa- sionally wrote herself, when time and the state of her health permitted, as we find from the commencing words of the following touching note of that faithful friend, which, it seems, enclosed one of hers ; — “ This 6 th of March. “ As I have the honour to put this envelope to the queen’s letter, I have no need, my dearest mother, to give you the trouble of reading one in my bad writing, save to tell you, that we have great cause to praise God that her majesty continues well. The Lord gives us much con- solation in that, while he chastens us in other things. His name be blessed for all. We remain in a constant state of uncertainty as to what will become of our friends who remain in Scotland, especially our husbands and sons. Permit me, my dear mother, to entreat a con- tinuance of your charitable prayers for them, and believe me to be, wit?/ much attachment, “ Your very humble and obedient servant, “ S. Bulkeley.” The son of lady Sophia happily escaped the dreadful penalty suffered by too many of the unfortunate noblemen and gentlemen who had been rash enough to engage in the desperate enterprise, which, in evil hour, was undertaken in 1715 for the restoration of the house of Stuart. “ My son and Mr. Bulkeley,” says the duke of Berwick, “ whom the king was not able to bring off with him, instead of endeavouring to conceal themselves in the highlands like the others, ventured to come Irom the north of Scotland to Edinburgh, where they remained undis- covered for eight days, and hired a vessel to land them in Holland, whence they made their way to France. The regent, at the solicitation of lord Stair, deprived them of their places under the French govern- ment.” The extreme depression in which the queen and her ladies remained during the melancholy spring of 1716, when every post from England brought them sad tidings of the tragic fate of the devoted friends who had engaged in the cause of the chevalier de St. George, is feelingly noticed by lady Sophia Bulkeley in a letter to one of the sisters ot Chaillot, dated March the 20th. “ The weather and ourselves are both so dismal, my dear sister, that 1 Walpole Correspondence, by Coxe, vol. ii. Walpole, brother of Sir Ilobert Walpole, pp. aOL 308. Letter of lord Stair to Horace dated March 3, J716, from Paris. 876 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [ 1716 . I have scarcely courage to write to you, much less to come and see you, though the queen has had the goodness to propose it to me ; but I have thought it better to defer it till Easter, in the hope that the holy festivals may a little tranquillize our spirits, which find small repose at present. Her majesty’s health is, thanks to God, good, in spite of the continual and overwhelming afflictions with which she is surrounded. The deaths of the earls of Derwentwater and Kenmure have grieved her much. Nothing can be more beautiful than the speech of the first ; if it were translated into French, I would send it to you. The other [lord Ken-, mure] said nothing then, but merely delivered a letter addressed to our king, which he begged might be sent to him. He afterwards embraced his son on the scaffold, and told him, ‘ that he had sent for him there, to show him how to shed the last drop of his blood for his rightful king, if he should ever be placed in like circumstances.’ His poor son was not more than fourteen or fifteen years old. The three other lords were to die last Wednesday, but it is hoped they will be pardoned. Mean- time, we can know nothing more till we have letters from England, and they will not arrive before Monday.” We may imagine the agonizing feelings that agitated the hearts of the anxious queen and her ladies during the interval. Intelligence of the successful enterprise of that noble conjugal heroine, Winifred countess of Nithesdale, for the preservation of her husband’s life, reached the court of St. Germains, and caused great excitement in the tearful circle there, as we find from the context of lady Sophia Bulke- ley’s letter : — “ The earl of Nithesdale, who married one of the daughters of the duke of Powys, and sister of lady Montague, has been fortunate enough to escape out of the Tower, on the eve of the day appointed for his exe- cution. Lady Nithesdale, who came to see him that evening, dressed him in her clothes, and he went out with two other ladies who had accompanied her. Some letters say that lady Nithesdale remained in the Tower in his place ; others, more recent, affli’m that she went away with him ; but this is very certain, that they did not know the husband from the wife, and that they cannot punish her for what she has done. My letter begins to get very long, and is so scrawled, that you will find it difficult to decipher some passages.” The “ griff onnage ” for which lady Sophia apologizes, is, truth to tell, so bad, that if the holy sister of Chaillot succeeded in making out the next paragraph, she was cleverer than all the experienced decipherers of queer caligraphy in the hotel de Soubise, who were unable to solve the mystery. For the satisfaction of the curious reader, it may, however, be confidently affirmed, that neither Jacobite intrigues nor popish plots lurk in those unintelligible sentences, but rather, as we are inclined to suspect, some trifling matters of costume, of which the nomenclature, as 1716.] Chevalier retires to Avignon. 377 spelt by the noble writer, would be somewhat puzzling. Her ladyship, in conclusion, requests the nun “ to tell her daughter,” who was en pension in the convent, “ that she sends her four pairs of gloves, of the then fashionable tint, called hlanc de pomme de terre, and that she had requested a person to bring her some pairs of brown gloves to wear in the holy week, but as they could not arrive till the morrow, she thinks she may manage with her white ones, and desires the young lady to take a discreet opportunity of sending back all her soiled gloves to her.” The last clause implies a piece of domestic economy practised by the impoverished ladies of the household of the exiled queen at St. Ger- mains ; namely, cleaning their own gloves. The late unsuccessful enterprise of the Jacobites in Scotland and the north of England, had not only involved in ruin and misery all the devoted partisans who had engaged in it, and exhausted the pecuniary resources of friends who had taken a more cautious part, but placed the son of Mary Beatrice in a far worse position with the powers of Europe than that in which he had been left at the peace of Utrecht. His generous friends, the duke and duchess of Lorraine, were reluctantly compelled to exclude him from the asylum he had hitherto enjoyed at Barr; neither durst the prince of Vaudemonte, or any other of the vassal princes of France or Germany, receive him. He was advised to retire to Sweden or Deux Fonts, as more likely to please the people of England than a residence in the papal dominions, but he chose to fix his abode at Avignon.^ Lady Sophia Bulkeley, in the postscript of a letter to the abbess of Chaillot, merely dated “ Ce Vendredy St., au soir,^' says : — “ Lady Clare has just come to tell me, that the queen commands me to inform you that the king, my master, is well, and arrived on the 2nd of this month at Avignon. The queen awaits with impatience the fine weather to come and see you.” ^ The regent Orleans, though he would neither assist nor tolerate the presence of the chevalier de St. George in France, could not be induced to deprive his widowed mother of the royal asylum and maintenance she had been granted by his late uncle, Louis XIV. Profligate as he was himself, Orleans regarded with reverence and compassion a princess, whose virtues and misfortunes entitled her to the sympathies of every gentleman in France. Even if he could have found it in his heart to listen to the remonstrances of the British ambassador against her resi- dence at St. Germains, it would have been regarded as derogatory to the national honour of the proud nation whose majesty he represented, to do anything calculated to distress or trouble her who was so universally beloved and venerated by all classes of people. Mary Beatrice, therefore, 1 Lord Mahon. Chaillot Records and Cor- 2 inedited Stuart Papers, in the hotel de respondence. Soubise. 878 Mary Beatrice of Modena, ^ 1716 , remained unmolested in the royal chateau of St. Germains, and retained the title and state of a queen-dowager of England, to her dying day. Her courts and receptions were attended by the mother of the regent, and all the French princes and princesses, with the same ceremonials of respect as in the lifetime of her powerful friend Louis XIY. It would have been more congenial to the tastes and feelings of Mary Beatrice, either to have passed the remnant of her weary pilgrimage in the quiet shades of Chaillot, or to have accompanied her beloved son to Avignon ; but his interest required that she should continue to support, at any sacrifice, the state of queen-mother, and to keep up friendly and confidential intercourse with the wife, mother, and daughters of the regent of France. The marquis de Torcy, mar^chal Villeroi, and others of the cabinet of Versailles, cherished great respect for her, and through the ladies of their families she enjoyed the opportunity of obtaining early information as to the political movements in England. It was, under these circumstances, much easier for the Jacobite correspondence to be carried on through the widow of James II. at the chateau of St. Germains, than with the more distant retreat of her son at Avignon. The communications between these two courts, as they were fondly styled by the adherents of the exiled family, were unremitting ; and the pen of the royal mother was, during the last two years of her life, activ^ely employed in secret correspondence with her old friends among the English and Scotch nobility in behalf of her son. The little Stuart sovereignty of St. Germains had been thinned by the events of the last few months. Many a brave gentleman, who had departed full of hope to join the Jacobite movement in the north, returned no more : the mourning garments and tearful eyes of their surviving families afforded only too sad a comment on the absence of well-remem- bered faces. Independently, however, of those who had perished by the contingencies of war, or, sadder still, by the hand of the executioner, the number of the faithful friends who had held offices of state in her household, or that of her late consort king James II., were diminishing every year by death. Among these, no one was more sincerely lamented by Mary Beatrice than James earl of Perth, or, as he was entitled in her court, the duke of Perth, who died in the spring of 1716. If she had followed the energetic counsels of that nobleman in the first five years of her regency, her son would, in all probability, have recovered the crown to which he had been born heir-apparent, or, at any rate, established himself as an independent sovereign of Scotland, The disastrous result of the Jacobite insurrection in the preceding year, ought to have convinced the widow and son of James II. of the hopelessness of devising plans for the renewal of a contest which had cost the partisans of the Stuart cause so dear. They were, however, far from regarding that cause as desperate, seeing that the terrors of the 1716.] “ White-rose day'^ 379 sanguinary executions which had just taken place in London and else- where, did not deter the people from wearing oaken houghs, in defiance of the prohibition of government, on the 29th of May, and white roses on the 10th of June. ^ Imprisonments, fines, and scourgings were inflicted on those who would not resign those picturesque badges of misdirected loyalty to the soldiers, who were stationed in various parts of the city to tear them from the hats and bosoms of the contumacious. The names of “ oak-apple day,” for the 29th of May, and “ white-rose day,’’ for the 10th of June, are still used by the peasantry in many parts of England, and tell their own tale as to the popularity of the customs to which they bear traditionary evidence. The symptoms of lingering affection for the representative of the old royal line, of which these badges were regarded as signs and tokens, were observed with uneasiness by the Walpole administration, and very severe measures were taken to prevent them. A legislative act for the reform of the British calendar, by the adoption of the new style, would have done more to prevent white roses from being generally worn on the anniversary of the chevalier’s birth, than all the penalties Sir Kobert Walpole could devise as a punish- ment for that ofience.2 But owing to the ignorant bigotry of his party, in opposing the alteration in style as a sinful conformity to popish fashions, the day called the 10th of June in England was, in reality, the 20th, when white roses are somewhat easier to obtain than they are ten days earlier, especially in cold, ungenial seasons. In the autumn of 1719, an unwonted visitor appeared at St. Germains, and requested the honour of a presentation to the queen-mother, as Mary Beatrice was called there. This was no other than the young marquis of Wharton, the son of one of the leaders of the revolution of 1688. He had been sent to finish his education in republican and Calvinistic principles at Geneva, and, out of sheer perversity, broke from his governor, and travelled post to Lyons, whence he sent a present of a valuable horse to the chevalier de St. George, with a request to be per- mitted to pay his homage to him. The exiled prince sent one of his equerries to conduct him to his little court at Avignon, where he gave him a battering reception, invested him with the order of the Garter, I Calamy, in his History of his Own Life and Times, pours forth a jeremiad on the perversity of the people in displaying a spirit BO inconsistent with their duty to that gra- cious sovereign George 1. He affirms, that ■when the general service of thanksgiving for the suppression of the late tumults and sedi- tions took place at St. Paul’s, on the ^th of June, they were anything but suppressed, and Instances the serious riots at Cambridge on the 29th of May, when the scholars of Clare-hall and Trinity-college were miserably insulted for their loyalty to king George 1 He also groans in spirit over the number of white roses which he saw worn on the 10th of June, to do honour to the birthday of the Pretender. — Life and Own Times, by Edmund Calamy, d.d. 2 On the 29th of May, 1717, “guards were placed to apprehend those who durst wear oaken boughs, and several persons were com- mitted for this offence.” Moreover, on the 6th of August following, “ two soldiers were whipped almost to death in Hyde-park, and turned out of the service, for wearing oak boughs in their hats, 29th of May ” — Chrouo logical Histor y, vol. ii. pp. 63-67, 72. 380 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ 1716 - and admitted him into the number of his secret adherents. Wharton then proceeded to !St. Germains, to pay his court to queen Mary Beatrice.^ Information of Wharton’s presentation to the widowed con- sort of James 11. having been conveyed to lord Stair, that statesman made a point of expostulating with him very seriously on his proceed- ings, as likely to have a ruinous effect on his prospects in life, and earnestly recommended him to follow the example of his late father, the friend and counsellor of William HI. Wharton made a bitterly sarcastic retort ; for he had wit at will, and used that dangerous weapon, as he did all the other talents which had been entrusted to him, with a reck- less disregard to consequences. Wharton was a spoiled child of fortune, whose whim had been a law both to himself and all around him. He had never felt the necessity of caution, a quality in which villains ot high degree are often found deficient. His apparent artlessness, at first, inspired confidence in those who did not perceive the difference between candour and audacity. The captivating manners and brilliant accom- plishments of this young nobleman made a very agreeable impression on the exiled queen and her little court ; but he was, in reality, a false diamond of the same class as Bolingbroke, equally devoid of religion, moral worth, or political honour, and proved, ultimately, almost as mischievous an acquisition to the cause of her son as that anti-Christian philosopher. The attention of Mary Beatrice was a good deal occupied, for the last two years of her life, in the various unsuccessful attempts that were made by her son to obtain a suitable consort. He was the last of the male line of Stuart, and many of those who were attached to his cause were reluctant to risk a scaffold and the ruin of their own families on the contingency of his single life. The backwardness of the English nobles and gentlemen of his own religion during the rebellion of the pre- ceding year, was considered mainly attributable to his want of a suc- cessor. The death of his sister, the princess Louisa, had robbed the Stuart cause of its greatest strength, and was a misfortune that nothing but the offspring of a royal alliance of his own could repair. Of all the princesses that were proposed, the daughter of her uncle, Rinaldo d’Este, duke of Modena, was the most agreeable to Mary Beatrice and to her son. “ My happiness, my dear uncle, as well as that of all my subjects,” writes the princely suitor to the father of the lady, “ is in your hands, and religion itself is not less interested in your decision.”^ The answer was unfavourable, and much regret was felt in conse- quence.^ The son of Mary Beatrice was almost as much at discount in the matrimonial market at this period, as his uncle Charles H. had been during the Protectorate ; but not quite, seeing that there was one 1 Life of Philip, duke of 'Wharton. the Queen ; edited by J. H. Glover, esq., vol. 2 Stuart Papers, in possession of her Majesty i. p. 15. 3 ibid. i7i7‘] Loan for the use of her son confided to the queen. 381 princess, highly connected, and possessed of great wealth, who was romantically attached to him from report. This was Clementine Sobieska, the grand-daughter of the illustrious John Sohieski, king of Poland, whom he afterwards married. Mary Beatrice did not live to witness these espousals. Almost the last time this queen’s name is mentioned in connection with history, is in the correspondence between count Gyllenberg and baron Spaar, the Swedish ministers at London and Paris, and Charles XII.’s minister, baron Gortz, relating to the secret designs of that monarch for the invasion of Scotland with 12,000 men, to place her son on the British throne,^ Spain and Kussia were engaged in the confederacy.^ It appears, from one of count Gyllenberg’s intercepted letters to Gortz, dated January 18, 1717, that the merchant of whom a large loan had been procured was to remit 20,000/. into France, to he paid into the hands of the queen-mother, Mary Beatrice, who would hand it over to the person empowered to take the management of the financial arrangements.® The most sanguine anticipations of the success of this confederacy were cherished, but secret information being conveyed to the British government, Gyllenberg, who had forfeited the privileges of an ambassador, was arrested. His papers were seized, which con- tained abundant evidence of the formidable designs in preparation, which were thus happily prevented.^ Mary Beatrice paid her annual visit at Chaillot in the summer. She was in very ill health, and returned to St. Germains much earlier in the autumn than usual. The following is an extract from a letter to the abbess of Chaillot, written apparently soon after “ The fine weather we have had since I quitted you, my dear mother, was not necessary to make me regret the abode at Chaillot, which is always charming to me ; but it certainly makes me regret it doubly, although I cannot deny that since the three weeks I have been here, I have had more time to myself and more solitude than during the whole period of my stay at Chaillot. This does not prevent me from wishing often for the company of my dear mother, and all the beloved sisters, in which I hope much to find myself again, if God gives me six months more of life.” ® This letter is apparently one of the last of that curious correspondence of the exiled queen with the religieuses of Chaillot, which, surviving the dissolution of that monastery and all the storms of the revolution, has enabled her biographer to trace out many interesting incidents in her jjersonal history ; and more than this, to unveil her private feelings, as she herself recorded them in the unreserved confidence of friendship. ^ Intercepted correspondence published in Lord Mahon. London, 1717. 5 inedited letter of Mary Beatrice, St. Ger- 2 Lord Mahon’s Hist, of England. mains, Nov. 4, in the Chaillot MSS. 2 Letters of Count Gyllenberg. 382 Mary Beati'ice of Modena. [ 1718 . All the letters written by Mary Beatrice in her widowhood are sealed with black. Some bear the impression of her diamond signet — her regal initials “ M. K.,” crowned and interlaced with the cipher of her deceased lord, which now indicated that of her son, “ J. K.” being the same initials ; but the seal she more frequently used is a size larger, having the royal arms of England, France, Ireland, and Scotland on the dexter side, and her own paternal achievement of Este of Modena and Ferrara on the sinister ; viz., on the first and fourth quarters, argent, an eagle displayed, sable, crowned or ; the second and third, azure, charged with three fleurs-de-lis, or, within a bordure indented, or and gules. One supporter is the royal lion of England, the other, the crowned eagle of Este. This was her small privy-seal, the miniature of her great seal as queen-consort of England, of which there is an engraving in Willi- ment’s Regal Heraldry. In the commencement of the year 1718, Mary Beatrice, though fast approaching the termination of her weary pilgrimage, was occupied in corresponding with her old friends in England in behalf of her son. Her pen appears to have been more persuasive, her name more influential, than those of the secretaries of state, either at Avignon or St. Germains. Early in January that year, general Dillon writes to lord Mar, “that Atterbury, whom he figures under the political designation of Mr. Rigg, presses earnestly for Andrew [the queen-mother] writing to Hughes [lord Oxford] about the mantle affair, and thinks the most proper tirue for compassing that matter will be during the next sessions of Percy [parliament], whilst friends are together in town.” ^ This mantle affair seems to relate to a subscription loan for the use of the chevalier de St. George. It is further recommended “ that her majesty,” signified by the sobriquet of Andrew, “ should send her instructions to the earl of Oxford, in order to bring him to the point” — rather a difficult matter with so notable a shuffler, we should think. The queen was also to be requested “ to write a letter to Mrs. Pooly [Lady Petre], thanking her for what she had done, and informing her that her son’s affairs required further assistance ; and another letter to the same purpose to Mr. New- comb [the duke of Norfolk], and to send with these letters two blank powers for raising mantle [money] — one for Mr. Allen [the earl ol Arran], which he might make use of with such of the Primrose family [Protestants] as he should think fit, and another for any person whoDi he and the duke of Norfolk should think proper to be employed among Rogers’s people [Roman catholics].” Another paper to the same effect in her majesty’s collection, is supposed, by the learned editor of ths^ volume of the Stuart Papers 2 containing the Atterbury correspondence,ji * Stuart Papers, in her Majesty’s posses- 2 J. H. Glover, esq., librarian to her Majesty; sion ; edited by J. H. Glover, esq., vol. i. Queen Victoria, p. 19. 383 1718 .] Her dying illness, to have been sent first to the queen-mother at St. Germains, who forwarded it to her son, the chevalier de St. George, at Urbino, where he was then residing’. From the same volume, it appears that the chevalier had been justly displeased with the conduct of her majesty’s almoner, Mr. Lewis Innes, who, when employed to make a French translation of a letter addressed by that prince to the reverend Charles Leslie, and through him to the whole body of the Protestant clergy, had put a false interpretation on certain passages — a most insidious piece of priestcraft, intended by Jnnes for the benefit of his own church, but calculated, like all crooked dealings, to injure the person he pretended to serve. James, in a letter to the duke of Ormonde on the subject, expressed himself disgusted with the proceedings of the coterie at St. Germains, and said that, with the exception of the queen his mother, he did not desire to have anything more to do with any of them. “ Their principles and notions, and inine,’^ continues he, “ are very different ; former mistakes are fresh in my memory, and the good education I had under Anthony [queen Mary Beatrice] not less. So that 1 am not at all fond of the ways of those I have lived so long with, nor the least imposed on by their ways and reasonings.”^ Not contented with a strong expression of his displeasure at the dangerous liberty taken by Innes, James very properly insisted on his being dismissed from the queen-mothers service. Implicit sub- mission to his authority was yielded, both by her majesty and her spiritual director. “ The king is master,” wrote Innes to the duke of Ormonde, “ and I, having the honour to be both his subject and his servant, think myself doubly obliged simply to obey his majesty’s orders, without saying anything for myself.”^ This unpleasant occur- rence happened towards the end of February, but whatever consternation the spirited conduct of the chevalier de St. George created among the reverend messieurs of the chapel-royal of St. Germains, it is certain that it did not in the slightest degree disturb the affectionate confidence which had always subsisted between the ro 3 ^al mother and her son, and which remained unbroken till the hour of her death.® The coldness of the weather and the increasing debility of the queen, prevented her from paying her accustomed visit to Chaillot at Easter. The fatal malady in her breast, though for a time apparently subdued, had broken out again with redoubled violence in the preceding summer. She had borne u]3 bravely, and endured with unruffled patience the torturing ])angs that were destroying the principles of life, and con- tinued to exert herself in her beloved son’s cause till within a few days of her decease. Her last illness attacked her in the month of April, 1718. She had recovered from so many apparently more severe, that a fatal 1 Stuart Papers, edited by Glover, vol. i. 3 Chaillot Records, inedited, in the hotel de pp. 24, 25. 2 Ibid. Soubise. 384 Mary Beatrice of Modena. termination was not at first apprehended. A deceptive amendment took place, and she even talked of going to Chaillot ; but a relapse followed, and she then felt an internal conviction that she should not recover.^ The following letter, without date or s.ignature, in her well-known characters, which is preserved among the Chaillot papers in the hotel de Soubise, appears to have been written by the dying queen to her friend Fran^oise Angelique Priolo. It contains her last farewell to her, and the abbess and sisters : under such circumstances, it must certainly be regarded as a document of no common interest : — “ Patientia vohis necessaria est. Yes, in verity, my dear mother, it is very necessary for us this patience : I have felt it so at all moments. I confess to you that I am mortified at not being able to go to our dear Chaillot. I had hoped it till now, but my illness has returned since three o’clock ; and I have lost all hope. There is not, however, anything very violent in my sickness; it has been trifling, but I believe that in two or three days I shall be out of the turmoil, if please God, and if not, I hope that he will give me good patience. I am very weak and worn down. I leave the rest to lady , embracing you with all my heart. A thousand regards to our dear mother and our poor sisters, above all to C. Ang ”2 Angelique,^ she would have written, but the failing hand has left the name of that much-loved friend unfinished. About six o’clock on Friday evening, the 6th of May, Mary Beatrice, finding herself grow worse, desired to receive the last sacraments of her church, which, after she had prepared herself, were administered to her by the cure of St. Germains. As it was impossible for her to enjoy the consolation of taking a last farewell of her son, she resigned herself to that deprivation, as she had done to all her other trials, with much submission to the will of God, contenting herself with praying for him long and fervently. She desired, she said, to ask pardon, in the most humble manner, of all those to whom she had given cause of offence, or by any means injured ; and declared she most heartily pardoned and forgave all who had in any manner injured or offended her. She then took leave of all her faithful friends and attendants, thanking them for their fidelity and services, and recommended herself to their prayers, and those of all present, desiring “ that they would pray for her, and for the king her son (for so she called him), that he might serve God faithfully all his life.” This she repeated twice, raising her voice as high as she could ; and for fear she might not ^ Chaillot Records, inedited, in the hdtel de to lament the loss of my dear Claire Ange- Soubise. lique.” A packet of letters from the exiled 2 Translated from the original French. queen to that religieme, preserved in the 3 Catharine Angelique de Mesme is the reli- Chaillot collection, is thus indorsed : “ Ces gieuse indicated ; her other friend, Claire lettres de la Heine ont ete ecrites nre tres Angelique de Beauvais, had already paid the honble. mere, Claire Angelique de Beauvais, debt of 'nature. Mary Beatrice, in one of her pendant son dernier Trianal, fini a cette preceding letters, says, “ I shall never cease Ascension, 1709.'’ Her last hours. 385 1718.] be heard by everybody, the room being very full, she desired the cure to repeat it, which he did. Growing weaker, she ceased to speak, and bestowed all her attention on the prayers for a soul departing, which were continued all night. ^ From the time the queen’s sickness assumed dangerous symptoms, her chamber was crowded with company of the four nations of whom the inhabitants of St. Germains were composed — English, Irish, Scotch, and French, and two or three of her Italian attendants, who had been in her service ever since her marriage ; but her son, the last and dearest tie that remained to her on earth, was unable to come to her, as he was forbidden to enter France. He was absent, but not forgotten. The dying queen had earnestly desired to see her friend marshal Villeroi, the governor of the young king of France ; and when, in obedience to her summons, he came and drew near her bed, she rallied the sinking energies of life, to send an earnest message to the regent Orleans and to the royal minor Louis XY. in behalf of her son. Nor was Mary Beatrice forgetful of those who had served her so long and faithfully, for she fervently recommended her servants and destitute dependants to their care, beseeching, with her last breath, that his royal highness the regent “ would not suffer them to perish for want in a foreign land when she should be no more.” ^ These cares appear to have been the latest connected with earthly feelings that agitated the heart of the exiled queen, for though she retained her senses to the last gasp, she spoke not again. More than fifty persons were present when she breathed her last, between seven and eight in the morning of the 7th of May, 1718, in the sixtieth year of her age, and the thirtieth of her exile. She had survived her unfortunate consort James II. sixteen years and nearly eight months. “ The queen of England,” says the due de St. Simon, “ died at St. Germains after ten or twelve days’ illness. Her life, since she had been in Ti'rance, from the close of the year 1688, had been one continued course of sorrow and misfortune, which she sustained heroically to the last. She supported her mind by devotional exercises, faith in God, prayer, and good works, living in the practice of every virtue that constitutes true holiness. Her death was as holy as her life. Out of 600,000 livres allowed her yearly by the king of France, she devoted the whole to support the destitute Jacobites with whom St. Germains was crowded.” The same contemporary annalist sums up the character of this princess in the following wmrds : “ Combined with great sensibility, she had much wit and a natural haughtiness of temper, of which she was aware, and made it her constant study to subdue it by the practice of humility. Her mien was the noblest, the most majestic and imposing in the world, but it was also sweet and modest.” ® * MS. Lansdowne, 849, fol. 308, British Museum, inedited Stuart Papers. Chaillot coll. Ibid. ^ Memoires du Due de St. Simon, voi. xv. pp. 46, 47. 2 c VOL. V. 386 Mary Beatrice of Modena, The testimony of St. Simon is fully corroborated by that of a witness of no less importance than the mother of the regent Orleans— a princess who, from her near relationship to the royal Stuarts, and an acquaint- ance of nearly thirty years, had ample opportunities of forming a correct judgment of the real characteristics of the exiled queen ; and as she is not accustomed to speak too favourably of her own sex, and certainly could have no motive for flattering the dead, the following record of the virtues and worth of Mary Beatrice ought to have some weight, espe- cially as it was written in a private letter of the duchess to one of her own German relatives. “ I write to you to-day with a troubled heart, and all yesterday I was weeping. Yesterday morning, about seven o’clock, the good, pious, and virtuous queen of England died at St. Ger- mains. She must be in heaven. She left not a dollar for herself, but gave away all to the poor, maintaining many families. She never in her life” — a strong expression, and from no hireling pen — “ did -wrong to any one. If you were about to tell her a story of anybody, she would say, ‘ If it be any ill, I beg you not to relate it to me. I do not like histories which attack the reputation.’”^ As the besetting sin of the writer of this letter was the delight she took in repeating scandalous tales, she was doubtless among those to whom this admonitory check was occasionally given by the pure-minded widow of James II., who not only restrained her own lips from speaking amiss of others, but exerted a moral influence to prevent evil communications from being uttered in her presence. Mary Beatrice had suffered too severely from the prac- tices of those who had employed the pens and tongues of political slanderers to undermine her popularity, to allow any one to be assailed in like manner ; nor was she ever known to retaliate on the suborners of those who had libelled her. The eagle of Este, though smitten to the dust, could not condescend to imitate the creeping adder, “ which bites the horse by the heel to make his rider fall backward :” it was not in her nature to act so mean a part. “ She bore her misfortunes,” con- tinues the duchess of Orleans, “with the greatest patience, not from stupidity, for she had a great deal of mind, was lively in conversation, and could laugh and joke very pleasantly. She often praised the princess of Wales fCaroline, consort of George II.]. I loved this queen much, and her death hath caused me much sorrow.” ^ Though Mary Beatrice was now where the wicked cease from trou- bling and the weary are at rest, hearts were found hard enough to falsify, for political purposes, the particulars of her calm and holy parting from a world that was little worthy of her. She had forgiven her enemies, her persecutors, and those who were hardest of all to forgive, her slan- derers ; these, however, not only continued to bear false witness against 1 From the Historical Correspondence and Remains of Elizabeth Charlotte, Duchess cf Orleans ; Paris, 1 844. 2 Ibid. 387 1718.] False witness ofhej^ after death, her, but accused her of having borne false witness against herself, by pretending “ that on her deathbed she had disowned her son, and adopted their calumny on his birth.” 'J’he absurdity of this tale, which appeared in the Dutch gazette a few days after her death, is exposed in a contemporary letter written by a gentleman at Paris, who, after relat- ing the particulars of her late majesty’s death, which, he says, “he had from a person who was in the room with her when she died, and sat up by her all night, as most of her servants and many others did,” adds : — ^ “ You will wonder, therefore, upon what your Holland gazetteer could ground such an apparent falsity, as to insinuate that she disowned at her death the chevalier de St. George being her son, for whose safety and happiness she professed, both then and at all times, a much greater concern than for her own life, as was manifest to all that were well acquainted with her, and to above fifty persons that were present at her death ; for as she loved nothing in this world but him, so she seemed to desire to live no longer than she could be serviceable to him. She had suffered nearly thirty years’ exile for his sake, and chose rather to live upon the benevolence of a foreign prince, than to sign such a receipt for her jointure as might give the least shadow of prejudicing what she thought her son’s right. And yet, what is still more wonderful, the said gazetteer infers, from her desiring to see the mareschal de Villeroi, that it was to disown her son : whereas, quite the contrary, it was to recommend him to the regent of France with her dying breath, hoping that might induce his royal highness to have a greater regard for him ; and likewise to recommend her servants and those that depended upon her to his generosity, that he might not suffer them to perish for want in a foreign country. “ The story of her being at variance with her son was as groundless as the rest. There was not a post but they mutually received letters from each other, and packets came from him directed to her every post since her death, and will, undoubtedly, till he hears of it. Her last will was sent to the chevalier de St. George by a courier. In fine (to use my friend’s words), never mother loved a son better. Never mother suffered more for a son, or laboured more zealously to assist him. But if malicious men will still pursue that oppressed princess with lies and calumnies, even after her death, that with the rest must be suffered. It is easier to blacken the innocent, than to wipe it away.” ^ It is now evident whence Onslow, the speaker, derived the vague report to which he alludes in his marginal note on Burnet’s History of his Own Time, “ that the widowed queen of James II. took no notice 1 MS. Lansd. 849, fol. 308. minded his royal friend. William III., “ that a 2 I his remark illustrates the political clover lie, well believed, answered their pur- maxim of the earl of Wharton, when he re- pose as well as the truth.” 2 c 2 388 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [ 1 7 1 8 . of her son in her will, and left all she had to dispose of to the regent Orleans.’^ Poor Mary Beatrice ! Her effects were literally personal, and those she disposed of as follows, without bestowing the smallest share on the regent : Her heart she bequeathed to the monasteiy of Chaillot there to be placed in the tribune between those of her late husband, king James, and the princess, their daughter ; her brain and intestines to the Scotch college, to be deposited in the chapel of St. Andrew ; ^ and her body to repose unburied in the choir of the con- ventual church of St. Marie de Chaillot till the restoration of her son, or his descendants, to the throne of Great Britain, when, together with the remains of her consort and their daughter, the princess Louisa, it was to be conveyed to England, and interred with the royal dead in W estmins ter-abbey Never did any queen of England die so poor as Mary Beatrice, as regarded the goods of this world. Instead of having anything to leave, she died deeply in debt to the community of Chaillot : “ this debt, with sundry small legacies, she charged her son to pay, out of respect to her memory, whenever it should please God to call him to the throne of his ancestors.” ^ After the customary dirges, prayers, and offices of her church had been performed in the chamber of the deceased queen, her body was embalmed. Mary Beatrice was arrayed for the grave in the habit of the nuns of Chaillot by two of the sisters of that order, who brought the dress and veil which had been prepared for their royal friend, and placed a silver cross on her breast, with many tears. The following day, being Sunday, her remains rested at St. Germains, where solemn requiems were chanted in the cathedral church for the repose of her soul.^ All wept and lamented her loss, Protestants as well as persons of her own faith ; for she had made no distinction in her charities, but distributed to all out of her pittance. The poor were true mourners. Her ladies, some of whom had been five and-forty years in her service, were disconsolate for her loss ; so were the officers of her household. The French, by whom she was much esteemed, also testified great regret, so that a general feeling of sorrow pervaded all classes. The duke de Noailles, as governor of St. Germains and captain of the guards, came, by order of the regency, to make the necessary arrange- ments for her funeral, which was to be at the expense of the French government, with the respect befitting her rank and the relationship of 1 Stuart Papers in the archives of France. The chapel dedicated to St. Andrew, at Paris, still exists, and contains a beautiful monu- ment of marble, erected by the duke of Perth to the memory of James II., beneath which was placed an urn of gilt bronze, containing the brain of that monarch. Monuments and epitaphs of Mary Beatrice, the consort, and Louisa, daughter of James, and also of several members of the Perth family, are still to be seen, together with the tombs of Barclay the founder, and Innes. 2 Chaillot Kecords. Memorials de la Heine d’AngleteiTe, in the archives of France. 3 Ibid. 4 Ibid 389 1718 .] Her remains deposited at Chaillot. her late consort to the king of France, hut without pomp. A court mourning of six weeks for her was ordered by the regent ; but the respect and affection of the people made it general, especially when her remains were removed, on the 9th of May, attended by her sorrowful ladies and officers of state. The ofiDcial certificate of the governor of St. Germains is still pre- served in the archives of France, stating, “ that being ordered by his royal highness the regent, duke of Orleans, to do all the honours to the corpse of the high, puissant, and excellent queen, Marie Beatrix Eleanora d’Este of Modena, queen of Great Britain, who deceased at St. Germains-en-laye 7th of May, he found, by her testament, that her body was to be deposited in the convent of the Visitation of St. Marie, at Chaillot, to be there till the bodies of the king her husband, and the princess her daughter, should be transported; but that her heart and part of her entrails should rest in perpetuity with the nuns of the said convent, with the heart of the king her husband and tiiat of his mother (queen Henrietta) ; and that he has, in consequence, and by the express orders of the king of France (through M. le regent), caused the said remains of her late Britannic majesty to be conveyed to that convent, and delivered to the superior and her religieuses by the abbe Ingleton, grand-almoner to the defunct queen, in the presence of her ladies of honour, lord Middleton,” &c.^ There is also an attestation of the said father Ingleton, stating “ that he assisted at the convoy of the remains of the royal widow of the very high and mighty prince James II., king of Great Britain, on the 9th of May, 1718, to the convent of Chaillot, where they were received by the devout mother, Anne Charlotte Bochare, superior of that community, and all the religieuses of the said monastery, in the presence of the ladies of her late majesty’s household ; the earl of Middleton, her great-chamberlain ; Mr. Dicconson, comptroller-general of the household; count Molza, lord Caryl, Mr. Nugent, and Mr. Crane, her equerries ; and pere Gaillar, her confessor.” The following letter was addressed by the chevalier de St. George to the abbess of Chaillot, in reply to her letters of condolence, and contains a complete refutation of the malicious reports that were circulated as to any estrangement between the deceased queen and her son. The original is in Frencii, written in his own hand : — “ My reverend Mother, “ June 16, 1718. “ You will have seen, by a letter 1 have already written, that I am not ignorant of the attachment and particular esteem that the queen, my most honoured mother, had for you and all your community, 1 The date of this paper is the 12th of May. order of the regent Orleans, two days after her It certifies the fact, that the remains of this decease, but that her ol)seqnies did not take unfortunate queen were conveyed with regal place till the end of the following month, honours from St. Germains to Chaillot, by 390 Mary Beoince of Moctena, [171 8* and the affection with which it was returned. So far from disapproving of the letter of condolence you have written in your name and that of your holy community, 1 regard it as a new proof of your zeal, and I have received it with all the sensibility due to the sad subject. I require all your pra^^ers to aid me in supporting the great and irreparable loss I have just sustained with proper resignation. Continue your prayers for me, I entreat. — Unite them with those which I hope that righteous soul offers this day in heaven — for you as well as for me. This is the best consolation that her death hath left us. “ in regard to her body and heart, they are in good hands, since they are where the queen herself wished them to be ; and doubt not, that in this, as in all other things, the last wishes of so worthy a mother will be to me most sacred, and that I shall feel pleasure in bestowing on you, and all your house, marks of my esteem and of my goodwill, whenever it shall please Providence to give me the means.” The obsequies of Mary Beatrice were solemnized in the conventual church of Chaillot on the 27th of June. The sisters of that convent, and all the assistant-mourners, were, by the tolling of the bell, assembled in the great chamber at noon on that day for the procession, but as the ceremonial and offices were according to the ritual of the church of Eome, the detail would not interest the general reader.^ The earnest j)etition which the dying queen had preferred to the regent Orleans, in behalf of the faithful ladies of her house' old, who, with a self-devotion not often to be met with in the annals of fallen greatness, had sacrificed fortune and country for love of her, and loyalty to him they deemed their lawful sovereign, was not in vain. Orleans, however profligate in his general conduct, was neither devoid of good-nature nor generosity. Mary Beatrice had asked that the members of her house- hold might be allowed pensions out of the fund that had been devoted to her maintenance by the court of France ; and above all, as they were otherwise homeless, that they and their children might be permitted to retain the apartments they occupied in the chateau of St. Germains till the restoration of her son to his regal inheritance. Long as the freehold lease of grace might last which a compliance with this request of the desolate widow of England involved, it was frankly granted by the gay, careless regent, in the name of his young sovereign. Thus the stately palace of the Valois and Bourbon monarchsof France continued to afford a shelter and a home to the noble British emigrants who had shared the ruined fortunes of the royal Stuarts. There they remained, they and their families, even to the third generation, undisturbed, a little British world in that Hampton-conrt on the banks of the Seine, surrounded by an atmosphere of sympathy and veneration, till the revolution of France 1 The particulars are preserved among the archives of France, in the hotel de Soubise, 1718.] Her 'portrait in her widow's dress. 391 drove them from their shelter.^ Till that period, the chamber in which Mary Beatrice of Modena di ^d was scrupulously kept in the same state in which it was wont to be during her life. Her toilet-table, with its costly plate and ornaments, the gift of Louis XIV., was set out daily, as if for her use, with the four wax candles in the gilt candlesticks ready to light, just as if her return had been expected — such at least are the traditionary recollections of the oldest inhabitants of the town of St. Germains, relics themselves of a race almost as much forgotten in the land as the former Jacobite tenants of the royal chateau. A time-honoured lady, who derived her descent from some of the noble emigrants who shared the exile of James II. and his consort, favoured me with the following particulars in corroboration of the French traditions of the palace of the royal Stuarts : — I was a very young girl when I saw the castle of St. Germains : there were apartments there still occupied by the descendants of king James’s household. Among these were my father’s aunt. Miss Plowden ” — no other, gentle reader, than that “ petite Louison’' whose childish burst of grief and disappointment, at not seeing her mother among the ladies in attendance on the queen, moved her majesty’s kind heart to pity — “ niece to the earl of Stafford, and my mother’s aunt ; also an old maiden lady, sister to my grandfather, lord Dillon. The state-rooms were kept up, and I remember being struck with the splendour of the silver ornaments on the toilet of the queen. At the French revolution all was plundered and destroyed.” An original portrait of Mary Beatrice, probably the last that was ever painted of her, is one of the few relics of the royal property that has been traced, authenticated and preserved. ^ Its value is not as a work of art, but as affording a faithful representation of this unfortunate queen in her last utter loneliness. She is in her widow’s dress, sitting by the urn which enshrines her husband’s heart : she points to it with a mournful air. A large black crape veil is thrown over her head, according to the fashion of the royal widows of France, one corner forming a point on the forehead, and the rest of the drapery falling like a mantle over the shoulders nearly to the ground. Her robes are of some heavy mourning stuff, with hanging sleeves, which are turned back with white lawn weepers, and display the hands and arms a little above the wrist. She wears the round white lawn tippet which then formed part of the widow’s costume, and about her throat a single row of large round pearls, from which depends a cross. Her hair is shown from beneath the veil : it has lost its jetty hue, so have her eyebrows ; and 1 The countess of Middleton survived her sion that a new restoration of the royal royal mistress eight-and- twenty years. She Stuarts was about to take place in England, lived long enough to exult, in her ninety- This lady was the daughter of an earl of Car- seventh year, in the news of the triumphant digan. entrance of the grandson of James II. and In the collection of the late James Smith, Mary Beatrice, Charles Edward Stuart, into esq., of St. Germains. Edinburgh, in 1745, and died in the fonddelu- 892 Mary Beatrice of Modena, [171 8. though decided vestiges of beauty may still be traced in the majestic out- line of her face, it is beauty of a different character from that which Lely and Kneller painted, and Waller, Dry den, and Granville sang. A milder, a more subdued expression marks the features of the fallen queen the desolate widow, and bereaved mother, who had so often cause to say with the Psalmist, “ Thine indignation lieth hard upon me. Thou hast vexed me with all thy storms.” But the chastening had been given in love, the afflictions had been sent in mercy ; religion and the sweet uses of adversity had done their work ; every natui*al alloy of pride, of vanity, and impatience had been purified from the character of this princess. There is something more lovely than youth, more pleasing than beauty, in the divine placidity of her countenance as she sits in her sable weeds by that urn, a mourner ; yet not without hope, for the book of holy writ hes near, as well it might, for it was her daily study. It was the fountain of consolation whence Mary Beatrice of Modena drew the sweetness that enabled her to drink the bitter waters of this world’s cares with meekness, and to repeat, under every fresh trial that was decreed her ; “ It is the Lord, he is the master, and his holy name be for ever blessed and praised.” ^ The life of the unfortunate widow of James II. can scarcely conclude more appropriately, than with the following characteristic quotation from one of her letters, without date, but evidently written when the cause of her son was regarded, even by herself, as hopeless : — “ Truth to tell, there remains to us at present neither hope nor human resource from which we can derive comfort of any kind whatsoever ; so that, according to the world, our condition may be pronounced desperate, but, according to God, we ought to believe ourselves happy, and bless and praise Him for having driven us to the wholesome necessity of putting our whole trust in Him alone, so that we might be able to say ; — Et nuncque est expectatio mea ! Nonni, Dominus ! Oh, blessed reliance ! Oh, resource infallible 1 ” ^ 1 MS. lettres de la Keine d’Angleterre, Modena, to Fran9oise Angelique Priole; veuve de Jacques II., in the hStel de Soubise, Chaillot collection, in the hotel de Soubise, Paris. Paris 2 Inedited letter of Mary Beatrice of MARY 11. QUEEN-EEGNANT OF GKEAT BKITAIN AND IRELAND. CHAPTER 1. Mary II. was the daughter of an Englishman and Englishwoman. James duke of York, second son of king Charles 1. and queen Henrietta Maria, made a romantic love-match with Anne Hyde, daughter of lord chancellor Clarendon. Nothing could induce him to give up the wife of his choice, whom he had espoused before fortune changed in favour of the house of Stuart. When the duke and Anne Hyde were both in exile, he was an expatriated prince, she the maid of honour to his sister, Mary princess of Orange, mother of William the young stadtholder of Holland, afterwards the husband and regal partner of Mary II. The lady Mary of York, as she was called in early life, was the second child of the duke and duchess of York. She was horn at St. James’s-palace, 1662, at a time when public attention was much occupied by the arrival of Catharine of Braganza, the bride of her uncle Charles II. Although the duke of York was heir-presumptive to the throne, few persons attached any importance to the existence of his daughter. People looked forward to heirs from the king’s marriage. The young princess was named Mary, in memory of her recently deceased aunt the princess of Orange, and of her ancestress, Mary queen of Scots. Her baptism took place in the chapel-royal at St. James’s-palace ; her godfather was her father’s friend and kinsman, prince Rupert ; her god- mothers the duchesses of Ormonde and Buckingham. The infant Mary Stuart was removed forthwith to a nursery established for her in the house of her grandfather, the earl of Clarendon, at Twickenham, in the ancient palace of Katharine of Arragon. Fifteen months afterwards the little princess was removed further from the succession by the birth of a second brother, James duke of Cambridge. The lady Mary of York was beautiful and engaging ; she was loved by the duke of York with that passion of paternity often felt by a father for a first-born daughter. When the little Mary was brought from Twickenham to visit her parents, the duke of York could not spare her 394 Mary II, [1664. from his arms even while he transacted with his secretaries the naval affairs of his country as lord high admiral. Once, when the lady Mary was about two years old, Pepys was witness of the duke of York’s paternal fondness, which he thus notes in his journal : “ I was on busi- ness with the duke of York, and with great pleasure saw him play with his little girl just like an ordinary private father of a child.” Another daughter of the duke and duchess of York was bom Feb- ruary 6, 1664. The lady Anne Stuart ^ was baptized at St. James’s- palace, having Dr. Sheldon, archbishop of Canterbury, as godfather, her infant elder sister Mary and the duchess of Monmouth were her god- mothers. Two princes were soon after added to the duke of York’s family, healthy and promising children, rendering any prospect of the succession of the two little princesses to the throne of Great Britain but remote. After the duke of York had won his first great naval victory over the Dutch invaders on the coast of Suffolk, he visited his little ones, and found the plague that was then raging in London had extended to the nursery palace at Twickenham, where one or two servants had died of it. The duke hurried his wife and children into the purer air of the north, and fixed his residence with them at York, from whence he could visit the fleet he commanded on the east coast, and watch the movements of the Dutch. The fire of London swept away the last infection of the great plague, which has never since returned. And in the succeeding autumn the duke of York’s family came safely back to their home at Twickenham. The lady Anne was the favourite child of her mother the duchess of York, whose chief fault was an inordinate love of eating, which ignoble propensity was inherited by both her daughters. The health of the lady Anne greatly suffered by it ; her eyes became inflamed, and she grew so fat as to be nearly as round as a ball. Her mother, whose only fault was voracity, used to sup with her favourite little one on chocolate, just introduced by queen Catharine from Brazil. The duke of York, himself abstemious and simple in his diet, was not aware of the cause of this portentous fattening until his child’s health was dangerously impaired. The air and climate of France was recommended for the lady Anne, and thither, when she was about five years old, she was sent, having at first been placed under the care of her royal grandmother, queen Henrietta Maria, at Colombe, near Paris, on whose death, soon after, she was transferred to the nursery of her aunt Henrietta of England, duchess of Orleans, at St. Cloud. Death in a few months deprived Anne of her new protectress, and she is found under the personal care of her aunt’s husband, and her own near cousin, Philippe duke of Orleans, who sedulously superintended her deep mourning, which he made her wear 1 With this biography, to prevent repetition, is incorporated the parallel life of Mary Il.’s sister, the princess Anne, afterwards Anne, queen-regnant of Great Britain and Ireland. 1669 .] Lady Mary^s dancing lesson. 395 of the same fashion as his own little daughters.^ In tiny train and streaming crape veil, Anne of York sailed about his apartments at the Palais-Eoyal with her aunt’s bereft children. Their ridiculous appear- ance excited the spleen of la grande mademoiselle^^ who says: ‘‘ The day after Louis XIV. and the queen of France went to St. Cloud to perform the ceremonial of asperging the body of Henrietta of England, duchess of Orleans, I paid a visit to her daughters at the Palais-Royal, dressed in my mourning veil and mantle. I found that my young cousins had with them the daughter of the duke of York, who had been sent over to the queen of England [Henrietta Maria], to be treated by the French physicians for a complaint in her eyes. After the death of the queen her grandmother, she had remained with the duchess of Orleans her aunt, and now I found her with the eldest princess. They were both very little, yet monsieur the duke of Orleans, who delighted in all ceremonies, had made them wear the usual mourning veils for adults, which trailed behind them on the ground. I told the king of this ridiculous mourning garb the next morning, and described to him the mantles worn by his niece, mademoiselle, and the little English princess. ‘ Take care,’ said Louis XIV. ; ‘ if you rail at all this, my brother Orleans will never forgive you.’ ” So queen Anne in her infanc}" had been domesticated with the royal family of France, and had even played about the knees of her future antagonist, Louis XIV. Anne’s absence from England lasted eight months, according to our native historians, who none were aware where she was sojourning, during which time Pepys favours us with another glimpse of her eldest sister, the lady Mary. He was admitted by his acquaintance lady Peter- borough into the apartments of the duchess of York, at Whitehall, when the young Mary Stuart was taking her dancing lesson ; his remarks on her performance are according to his usual style, quaint and observant : “ Stepping to the duchess of York’s side to speak to my lady Peterborough, I did see the young duchess,® a little child in hanging sleeves, dance most finely, so as almost to ravish me, her ear is so good, taught by a Frenchman that did heretofore teach king Charles II., and all the royal family, and the queen-mother herself, who do still dance well.” The remains of the old palace at Richmond, where queen Elizabeth died, were put in repair for the children of the duke of York while their education proceeded. Lady Frances, the daughter of the earl of Suffolk and wife to Sir Edward Villiers, received the appointment of governess to the princesses of York : she was given a lease of Richmond-palace, and established herself there with her charges, and a numerous tribe of her own.'* Six girls, children of lady Villiers, were brought up there * Anne’s first-cousins, afterwards queen of Spain and duchess of Savoy. Memoires de Mademoiselle de Montpensier. 3 Pepy’s Diary, vol. i. 4 History of Surrey. 396 Mary II. ' [1671- with the lady Mary and the lady Anne, future queens of Great Britain. Elizabeth Yilliers, the eldest daughter of the governess, afterwards became the bane of Mary’s wedded life, but she was thus, in the first dawn of existence, her schoolfellow and companion. The whole of the Villiers’ sisterhood clung through life to places in the households of one or other of the princesses, where they formed a family compact of for- midable strength, whose energies were not always exercised for the benefit of their royal patronesses. The duchess of York had acknowledged by letter to her father, the earl of Clarendon, then in exile, that she was by conviction a Roman catholic, which added greatly to the troubles of her venerable parent. He wrote her a long letter on the superior purity of the Reformed catholic church of England, and exhorted her to conceal her partiality to the Roman ritual, or her children would be taken from her.^ It is evident from the same document that it was the duchess who converted her husband. The duchess of York was at that time drooping into the grave ; she never had been well since the birth of her last daughter, the infant Catharine, who survived her scarcely one year.^ In her last moments, she was supported by her husband, assisted by one of his confidential servants, M. Dupuy and a Roman catholic lady of her bedchamber, lady Cranmer. It is singular that the second appearance of the name of Cranmer in history should be in such a scene. Before this secret congre- gation the duchess of York renounced the religion of her youth, and received the sacraments according to the Roman rite from father Hunt, a Franciscan. She prepared to die,” says her husband,^ “ with the greatest devotion and resignation. Her sole request to me was, that I would not leave her until she expired, without any of her old friends of the church of England came ; and then that I would go and tell them she had communicated with the church of Rome, that she might not be disturbed by controversy.” Shortly afterwards she expired in the arms of her husband, at the palace of St. James, March 31, 1671.^ The duchess of York was interred with the greatest solemnity in Henry YH.’s chapel, most of the nobility following her funeral procession. No mention is made of any attendance of her daughters by the bed- side of the dying duchess of York. The mysterious rites of the Roman catholic communion round the deathbed of the mother bad, perhaps, prevented her from seeing the little princesses and their train of prying attendants. The lady Mary and the lady Anne were, at the time, the one nine and the other six years old ; their mother likewise left a baby only six weeks old, lady Catharine, and her eldest surviving son, > Harleian, No. 6854. It is copied in James’s 3 Memoirs of James II., edited by the rev, own hand. Stanier Clarke. Autograph Memoirs of James II. •* Ibid. 397 1673.] Education of the royal sisters. duke Edgar, heir to the mouarchy, of the age of five years : both these little ones died in the course of the ensuing twelvemonth. The friends of the duke of York importuned him to marry again. He replied, “ that he should obey his brother if it was thought absolutely needful, hut he should take no steps himself towards marriage.” Great troubles seemed to sur- round the future prospects of James, for, soon after the death of his wife, it was suspected that he was a convert to the religion she died in. All his services in the British navy, his inventions, his merits as a founder of colonies, and his victories won in person, could not moderate the fierce abhorrence with which he was then pursued. His marriage with a Eoman catholic princess, which took place more than two years after- wards, completed his unpopularity. Mary Beatrice of Modena, the new duchess of York, was about four years older than the lady Mary of York. When the duke of York went to Eichmond -palace, and announced his marriage to his daughters, he added, “I have provided you a playfellow.” ^ Alarmed by his brother’s bias to the Eoman catholic religion, Charles II. took the guidance of the education of the lady Mary and of the lady Anne, at this time, from their father’s control. The king strove to coun- teract the injury that was likely to accrue to his family, by choosing for them a preceptor who had made himself remarkable by his attacks on popery. This was Henry Compton, bishop of London, who had forsaken the profession of a soldier, and assumed the clergyman’s gown at the age of thirty. There was an old enmity on Compton’s side to the duke of York, arising from Anne Hyde’s exaltation. As to the office of preceptor, bishop Henry Compton possessed far less learning than soldiers of rank in general, it was not very likely therefore that the princesses educated under his care would rival the daughters or nieces of Henry VIII. in their attainments. The lady Mary and the lady Anne either studied or let it alone, just as it suited their inclina- tions. It suited those of the lady Anne to let it alone, and she grew up illiterate. Her spelling is not in the antiquated style of the seventeenth century, but according to the ignorance lashed by her contemporary Swift, and the construction of her letters and notes is vague and vulgar, ^’he mind of the elder princess was of a much higher cast, for the lady Mary had been long under the parental care. Her father the duke of York, and her mother Anne Hyde, both possessed literary abilities, and her grandfather, lord Clarendon, takes rank among the historians of his country. The French tutor of the princesses was Peter de Laine : he has left honourable testimony to the docility and application of the lady Mary .2 He declares that she was a perfect mistress of the French language, and that all those who had been honoured with any share in her education .found their labours very light, as she ever showed obliging 1 Letters of lady Rachel Russell. 2 Short Life of Queen Mary II. : 1695. 398 3Iary IL Lib74. readiness in complying with their advice. Mary’s instructors in draw- ing were two noted little people, being master and mistress Gibson, the married dwarfs of her grandmother, queen Henrietta Maria, whose wed- ding is so playfully celebrated by Waller.^ The Gibsons likewise taught the lady Anne to draw. It has been said that these princesses bad that taste for the fine arts which seems inherent in every individual of the house of Stuart, hut the miserable decadence of painting in their reigns does not corroborate such praise. From the time of their mother’s death, the ladies Mary and Anne were domesticated at Eichmond-palace with their governess, lady Frances Villiers, her daughters, and their assistant-tutors and chaplains. Dr. Lake and Dr. Doughty. Mary was greatly beloved by the clergy of the old school of English divinity before she left England. Every feast, fast, or saint’s day was carefully observed, and Lent kept with catholic rigidity. There was one day in the year which the whole family of the duke of York always observed as one of deep sorrow : on the 30th of January, the duke with his children and his household assumed the garb of funereal black ; they passed its hours in fasting and tears, in prayers and mourning, in remembrance of the death of Charles I.^ The lady Mary of York was devotedly attached to a young lady who had been her playmate in infancy, Anne Trelawny. The lady Anne like- wise had a playfellow, for whom she formed an affection so strong, that it powerfully influenced her future destiny. The name of this girl was Sarah Jennings ; her elder sister, Frances, had been one of the maids of honour of Anne duchess of York. If the assertion of Sarah herself may be believed, their father was the son of an impoverished cavalier baronet, and therefore a gentleman ; yet her nearest female relative on the father’s side was of the rank of a servant maid.^ Sarah Jennings was introduced to the little lady Anne of York by Mrs. Cornwallis,^ the best beloved lady of that princess, who was moreover her relative. The mother of Francis and Sarah Jennings was possessed of an estate suffi- ciently large, at Sundridge, near St. Albans, to make her daughters looked upon as co-heiresses ; her name is always mentioned with peculiar disre- spect, when it occurs in the gossiping memoirs of that day.® Sarah 1 Granger’s Biography, to wh>ch we must add that the dwarfs of Charles I.’s court, con- trary to custom, were good for something. Gibson and his wife were amy Stanier Clarke. 413 1G77.] Distress of the hride-elect, the purpose of telling him “that he had something to say about an affair which was the chief cause of his coming to England : this was, to desire that he might have the happiness to be nearer related to him, by marrying the lady Mary.” The duke replied “that he had all the esteem for him he could desire ; but till they had brought to a con- clusion the affair of war or peace, that discourse must he delayed.” ^ The duke mentioned the conversation to king Charles in the evening, who owned that he had authorized the application of the prince of Orange. Some private negotiation had taken place between the duke of York and Louis XI Y., respecting the marriage of the lady Mary and the dauphin. The treaty had degenerated into a proposal for her from the prince de Conti, which had been rejected by the duke of York with infinite scorn. He considered that the heir of France alone was worthy of the hand of his beautiful Mary. Court gossip had declared that the suit of the prince of Orange was as unacceptable to her as to her father, and that her heart .was already given to a handsome young Scotch lord, on whom her father would rather have bestowed her than on his nephew. How the poor bride approved of the match, is a point that none of these diplomatists think it worth while to mention : for her manner of receiving the news, we must refer to the pages of her confidential friend and tutor, Dr. Lake. The announcement was made to Mary, October the 21st. “ That day,” writes Dr. Lake, “ the duke of York dined at Whitehall, and after dinner came to St. James’s (which was his family residence). He led his eldest daughter, the lady Mary, into her closet, and told her of the marriage designed between her and the prince of Orange; whereupon her highness wept all the afternoon, and all the following day .2 The next day the privy council came to congratulate the yet weeping hride-elect, and lord chancellor Finch made her a compli- mentary speech. It appears that the prince shared in these congratula- tions, and was by her side when they were made. The day after, the judges complimented and congratulated their affianced highnesses — lord justice Rainsford speaking to my lady Mary in the name of the rest ; after which, they all kissed her hand.” ® The poor princess, in company with her betrothed, had several deputations to receive October 24. These were the lord mayor and aldermen, the civilians of Doctors’ -commons, and the commercial companies that her father had founded : she had to listen to speeches congratulatory on an event, for which her heart was oppressed and her eyes still streaming. The citizens gave a grand feasr, to show their loyal joy at the pure protestantism of this alliance ; her highness the bride, accompanied by her sister the lady Anne, and her step-mother the duchess of York, witnessed the civic procession from the house of Sir Edward Waldo, in Cheapside, where they sat under a Sir William Temple's Memoirs. 2 Lake’s MS. Diaxy. ^ Ibid. 414 Mary II, canopy of state, and afterwards partook of the lord mayor’s banquet at Guildhall, October 29 d The marriage was appointed for the prince of Orange’s birthday, Sunday, November the 4th, o. s. 1 677. How startled would have been the persons who, assembled round the altar dressed in the bride’s bedchamber in St. James’s-palace, could they have looked forward and been aware of what was to happen on the eleventh anniversary of that date ! ^ There were collected in the lady Mary’s bedchamber at nine o’clock at night, to witness or assist at the ceremony, king Charles II., his queen Catharine, the duke of York and his young duchess, Mary Beatrice of Modena, who was then hourly expected to bring an heir to England ; these, with the bride and bridegroom, and Compton bishop of London, the bride’s preceptor, who performed the ceremony, were all that were ostensibly present, the marriage being strictly private. The official attendants of all these distinguished personages were nevertheless admitted, forming altogether a group sufficiently large for nuptials in a bedchamber. King Charles gave away the sad brid^, and overbore her dejection by his noisy joviality. He hurried her to the altar, saying to Compton, “ Come, bishop, make all the haste you can, lest my sister, the duchess of York here, should bring us a boy, and then the marriage will be disappointed.” ^ Here was a slight hint that the king saw which way the hopes of the Orange prince were tending. In answer to the ques- tion, “ Who gives this woman ?” king Charles exclaimed with emphasis, “ 1 do,” which words were an interpolation on the marriage service.” ^ When the prince of Orange endowed his bride with all his worldly goods, he placed a handful of gold and silver coins on the open book : king Charles told his niece “ to gather it up, and to put all in her pocket, for ’twas all clear gain !” ^ After the ceremony was concluded, the bride and the royal family received the congratulations of the court and of the foreign ambassadors, among whom Barillon, the French ambassador, appeared remarkably discontented. Sir Walter Scott certainly never saw Hr. Lake’s manuscript, but by some poetical divination he antici- pated Charles II.’s behaviour that night, when, in his Marmion, he affirms : “ Queen Katharine’s hand the stocking threw, And bluff king Hal the curtain drew for at eleven the prince and princess of Orange retired to rest, and all the ceremonies took place which were then national. These were break- ing cake and drinking possets, in the presence of all those who assisted at the marriage : king Charles drew the curtains with his own royal hand, and departed, shouting “St. George for England!” The next 1 Life of Mary II., 1695 ; published at the land, and dethroned his uncle and father-in- Harrow, in Fleet-street. Sir Francis Chaplin law, James II. commenced his mayoralty on that day. 3 Lake’s MS. Diaiy. 2 When William of Orange invaded Eng- ^ Ibid. ^ Ibid. i 677 *] Unwelcome birth of a brother, 415 morning the prince of Orange, by his favourite, Bentinch, sent his princess a magnificent gift of jewels to the amount of 40,000Z. This Protestant alliance was so highly popular in Scotland, that it was celebrated with extraordinary and quaint festivities, being announced with great pomp by the duke of Lauderdale at Edinburgh, at the Mercat-cross, which was hung with tapestry, and embellished with an arbour formed of many hundreds of oranges. His grace, with the lord provost, and as many of the civic magistrates and great nobles as it could hold, ascending to this hymeneal temple, entered it, and there drank the good healths of their highnesses the prince and princess; next, of their royal highnesses the duke and duchess of York, then the queen’s, and last of all the king’s, during which the cannon played from the castle, all the conduits from the cross ran with wine, and many voiders of sweetmeats were tossed among the people, who were loud and long in their applauses. Great bonfires were kindled as in London, and the popular rejoicings were prolonged till a late hour.^ Two days after the marriage, the bride was actually disinherited of her expectations on the throne of Great Britain by the birth of a brother, who seemed sprightly, and likely to live. The prince of Orange had the compliment paid him of standing sponsor to this unwelcome relative when it was baptized, November the 8th. The lady-governess Villiers stood godmother by proxy for one of her charges, the young princess Isabella. The ill-humour of the prince of Orange now became sufficiently visible to the courtiers ; as for his unhappy bride, she is never mentioned by her tutor Dr. Lake excepting as in tears. She had, when married, and for some days afterwards, an excuse for her sadness, in the alarming illness of her sister, the lady Anne, whom at that time she passionately loved. Dr. Lake says, “her highness the lady Anne was absent from the marriage, having been sick for several days with the small- pox.” 2 She had most likely taken the infection Avhen visiting the city. “ I was commanded,” added Dr. Lake, “ not to go to her chamber to read prayers to her, because of my attendance on the princess of Orange, and on the other children these were the little lady Isabella, and the new-born Charles, who could have dispensed with his spiritual exhortations. “ This troubled me,” he resumes, “ the more, because the nurse of the lady Anne was a very busy, zealous Roman catholic, and would probably discompose her highness if she had an opportunity ; wherefore, November 11, 1 waited on the lady-governess [lady Frances Villiers], and suggested this to her. She bade me ‘ do what I thought fit.’ But little satisfied with what she said to me, I addressed myself to the bishop of London,^ who commanded me to wait constantly on her highness lady Anne, and to do all suitable offices ministerial incumbent on me.” The duke of * Life of Mary JI. * Lake’s MS. Diary, Nov. 7. • Compton, bishop of London, who wa.s governor or preceptor to the princesses 413 Mary II. York had enjoined that all communication must ne cut off between his daughters, lest the infection of this plague of smallpox should be com- municated to the princess of Orange, as if he had anticipated how fatal it was one day to be to her. Dr. Lake was not permitted, if he continued his attendance on the princess Anne, to see the princess of Orange. “ I thought it my duty,” ^ he says, “ before I went to her highness lady Anne, to take my leave of the princess, who designed to depart for Holland with her husband the Friday next. I perceived her eyes full of tears, and herself very disconsolate, not only for her sister’s illness, but on account of the prince urging her to remove her residence to Whitehall, to which the princess would by no means be persuaded.” The reason the prince wished to quit St. James's was, because the smallpox was raging there like a plague. Not only the lady Anne of York, but lady Villiers and several of the duke’s household were sickening with this fatal disorder; yet the disconsolate bride chose to run all risks, rather than quit her father one hour before she had to commence her unwelcome banishment. Dr. Lake tried his reasoning powers to convince the princess of Orange of the propriety* of this measure, but in vain. He then took the opportunity of preferring a request concerning his own interest. “ I had the honour to retire with her to her closet,” continues Dr. Lake,2 “ and I call God to witness, that I never said there, or else- where, anything contrary to the holy Scriptures, or to the discipline of the church of England ; and I hoped that the things in which I had instructed her might still remain with her. I said, ‘ I had been with her seven years, and that no person who hath lived so long at court but did make a far greater advantage than I have done, having gotten but 100?. a year ; wherefore I did humbly request her highness that, at her departure, she would recommend me to the king and the bishop of London, and that I would endeavour to requite the favour by being very careful of the right instruction of the lady Anne, her sister, of whom I had all the assurances in the world that she would be very good. Finally, I wished her highness all prosperity, and that God would bless her, and show her favour in the sight of the strange people among whom she was going.’ Whereupon I kneeled down and kissed her gown. Her highness of Orange gave me thanks for all my kindnesses, and assured me ‘ that she would do all that she could for me.’ She could say no more for excessive weeping. So she turned her back, and went into her bed- room. ^ At three o’clock I went to the lady Anne, and, considering her distemper, found her very well, without headache, or pain in her back, or fever. I read prayers to her.” This was on Sunday, November the lltli, the princess of Orange having been married a week. Notwith- standing all the remonstrances of her husband, and her own danger of ^ Lake’i MS. Diary. tions that he had completed his thirty-fifth 2 Ibid. On that very day Dr. Lake men- year. « Lake’s MS. Diary. i 677 *l ^ sullen bridegroom, 417 infection, the bride carried her point, and clave to her father and her paternal home at St. James’s-palace to the last moment of her stay in England.” “ The lady Anne,” says Dr. Lake, ‘‘ became worse as the disease ap- proached its climax. She was very much disordered : she requested me not to leave her, and recommended to me the care of her foster-sister’s instruction in the Protestant religion. At night I christened her nurse’s child, Mary.”^ This was the daughter of ti e Koman catholic nurse, of whom Compton bishop of London expressed so much apprehension ; how she came to permit the church of England chaplain to christen her baby is not explained. The 15th of November was the queen’s birth- day, which was celebrated with double pomp, on account of her niece’s marriage. From Dr. Lake, it is impossible to gather the slightest hint of the bridal pageants, or of the dress of the bride, excepting that her royal highness attired herself for the ball very richly, and wore all her jew^els. She was very sad ; the prince, her husband, was as sullen. He never spoke to her the whole evening, and his lack of courtesy was remarked by every one there.* Yet the artists and the poets of England had combined to make that evening a scene of enchantment and delight. All seemed replete with joy and mirth, excepting the dis- consolate Mary, who expected that she should have, before she retired to rest, to doff her courtly robes and jewels, and embark on board the yacht that was to take her to Holland. On this account, the officials of the household of her father, and those of her own maiden establishment in England, were permitted to kiss her hand at the ball, and to take leave of her, which they did at eight o’clock in the evening.^ The epithalamium of this wedlock, which was from the pen of the courtly veteran. Waller, was sung that night. Here are some of the stanzas : — “ As onee the lion honey gave, Out of the strong such sweetness came, A royal hero ^ no less brave, Produced this sweet — this lovely dame.'* * * * To her the prince that did oppose Gaul’s mighty armies in the field. And Holland from prevailing foes Could so well free, himself does yield. Not Belgia’s fleets (liis high command) Which triumph where the sun does rise. Nor all the force he leads by laud. Could guard him from her conquering eyes. Orange with youth experience has. In action young, in council old, Orange is what Augustus was — Brave, wary, provident, and bold. Lake’s MS. Diary. VOL, V. 2 Ibid. 3 James duke of York. * Mary, his daughter. 2 E 418 [1677. Mary II. On that fair tree 1 which bears his name, Blossoms and fruit at once are found ; In him we all admire the same, His flowery youth with wisdom crowned. Thrice happy pair ! so near allied In royal blood, and virtue too. Now love has you together tied, May none the triple knot undo.” The wind that night set in easterly, gave the poor bride a reprieve, and she in consequence remained by the paternal side all the next day, November the 16 th, in the home palace of St. James. The perversity of the wind did not ameliorate the temper of her husband ; he was exces- sively impatient of remaining in England to witness the continuance of festivities, dancing, and rejoicing. “ This day,*’ says Dr. Lake, “ the court began to whisper of the sullenness and clownishness of the prince of Orange. It was observed that he took no notice of his bride at the play, nor did he come to see her at St. James’s the day before their departure.” Dr. Lake, and the indignant household of the princess at St. James’s, it seems, blamed this conduct as unprovoked unkindness ; but that the prince was not angry without cause is obvious. Secretly exasperated at the unwelcome birth of Mary’s young brother, he was not inclined, as his marriage bargain was much depreciated in value, to lose the beauty of his young bride as well as her kingdom ; he was displeased, and not unjustly, at her obstinacy in continuing to risk her life and loveliness of person, surrounded by the infection at the palace of St. James. The maids of honour of the queen, the duchess of York, and especially of the princess Anne, were enraged at the rude behaviour of the Dutch prince. They spoke of him at first as the “ Dutch monster,” till they found for him the name of “ Caliban,” a sobriquet which lady Anne, at least, never forgot.^ The lady Anne continuing very ill during the days when her sister’s departure hung on the caprice of the wind, the paternal care of the duke of York deemed that any farewell between his daughters would be dan- gerous for each. He gave orders, that whenev(;r the princess of Orange actually went away, the fact was to be carefully concealed from Anne, lest it should have a fatal effect on her.® The palace of St. James was still reeking with infection : several of the official attendants of the ducal court were dying or dead. The lady governess, Frances Yilliers, was desperately ill : she was to have accompanied the princess of Orange on her voyage, but it was impossible.* Dr. Lake thus enumerates, with a foreboding heart, the disasters accompanying this marriage : “ There were many unlucky circumstances that did seem to retard and embitter the departure of the princess of Orange — as the sickness of the 1 The orange-tree was the device of William, orange and green his liveries. 2 Letters of the princess Anne to lady Marlborough. 3 Dr. Lake’s MS. Diary. ^ Ibid. 419 i 677 «] S.er farewell at Whitehall, lady Anne, the danger of the lady governess [Yilliers], who was left behind ; and her husband [Sir Edward Villiers], the master of the horse to the princess of Orange, he too was obliged to stay in England ; likewise the sudden death of Mr. Hemlock, her nurse’s father, which happened at St. James’s-palace this night ; the death and burial of the archbishop of Canterbury, her godfather the illness of Mrs. Trelawny’s^ father and uncle ; as also Mrs. White’s dangerous illness, who was appointed to attend the princess of Orange in Holland. God preserve her highness, and make her voyage and abode there prosperous !” ^ The wind blew westerly on the morning of the 19th of November, and in consequence every one was early astir in the palaces of White- hall and St. James, in preparation for the departure of the Orange bride and bridegroom. The princess took leave of all but Anne at her home at St. James’s, and came to Whitehall-jjalace as early as nine in the morn- ing, to bid farewell to her royal aunt, queen Catharine. Mary, when she approached, was weeping piteously, and her majesty, to comfort her, “ told her to consider how much better her case was than her own ; for when she came from Portugal, she had not even seen king Charles.” — “ But, madam,” rejoined the princess of Orange, ‘•remember you came into England ; I am going out of England.” — “ The princess wept grievously all the morning,” continues Hr. Lake.^ “ She requested the duchess of Monmouth to come often to see the lady Anne, her sister, and to accompany her to the chapel the first time she appeared there. She also left two letters to be given to her sister as soon as she re- covered.” What a contrast is this tender heart- clinging to her family, to Mary’s conduct after ten years’ companionship with the partner to whom her reluctant hand had been given ! The wind was fair for Holland, the tide served, the royal barges were in waiting at Whitehall-stairs, and king Charles and the duke of York were ready with most of the nobility and gentry in London, to accom- pany the princess and her husband down the river as far as Erith, where the bridal party were to dine.® Here Mary took a heart-rending fare- well of her father and uncle, and in the afternoon she embarked at Gravesend with her husband and suite in one of the royal yachts ; several English and Hutch men-of-war were in attendance to convoy the gay bark to Holland. The duke of York ought to have seen his son-in-law safely out of the kingdom, for before William of Orange actually departed, he contrived to play him one of the tricks by which he finally supplanted him in the 1 Sheldon, archbishop of Canterbury, died two years afterwards in Holland. — Sidney November 9, and was buried at Croydon on Diary. November 16, by the side of archbishop Whit- ^ br. Lake's Diary, Nov. 16. gift, at his own desire.— Dr. Lake. Ibid. 2 Anne Trelawny, the favourite maid of ^ Dr. Lake : likewise Echard. honour of the princess Mary, was with her 2 E 2 420 Mary IL [i^77 affections of the English people. The wind changed by the time the Dutch fleet had dropped down to Sheerness, and remained contrary for thirty or forty hours. At the end of this time the king and duke ot York sent an express to entreat the prince and princess to come up the river, and remain with them at Whitehall ; instead of which they went on shore at Sheerness, and were entertained by colonel Darrell, the governor. The next day, November the 23rd, they crossed the country to Canterbury, the princess accompanied only by lady Inchiquin (one of the Villiers’ sisters) and a dresser ; the prince by his favourites, Bentinck and Odyke. Here an extraordinary circumstance took place ; one witness vouches “that his authority was no other than arch- bishop Tillotson himself, from whose verbal narration it was written down.” ^ “ The prince and princess of Orange, when they arrived at an inn in Canterbury, found themselves in a destitute condition for want of cash, as they had been unkindly and secretly thrust out of London by king Charles and the duke of York, from jealousy lest the lord mayor should invite them to a grand civic feast. ^ The prince, to relieve his wants, sent Bentinck to represent them to the corporation, and beg a loan of money.” • It is very plain that the corporation of Canterbury considered the whole application as a case of mendicity or fictitious distress, for the request was denied. However, there happened to be present Dr. Tillotson, the dean of Canterbury, who hurried home, gathered to- gether all the plate and ready money in guineas he had at command, and bringing them to the inn, begged an interview with M. Bentinck, and presented them to him, “ with the hope that they would be service- able to their highnesses entreating, withal, “ that they would quit a situation so unworthy of their rank, and come to stay at the deanery, which was usually the abode of all the royal company that came to the city.” The prince accepted the plate and money with warm thanks, but declined going to the deanery. Dr. Tillotson was presented, and kissed the hand of the princess. In his hospitable transaction no blame can be attached to Dr. Tillot- son, whose conduct was becoming the munificence of the church he had entered.^ Why the prince of Orange did not request a loan or 1 Echard's Appendix and Tindal’s Notes to Rapin. 2 They had already been to this grand feast, October 29. — The Gazette. 3 Dr. Tillotson is, from the period of this adventure, intimately connected with the fortunes of the princess of Orange ; therefore, for the sake of intelligibility, the following abstract of his previous life is presented. He was the son of a rich clothier of Sowerby, near Halifax, who was a strict puritan at the time of John Tillotson’s birth, and afterwards was a furious anabaptist, which he remained, even after his son had conformed to our church on her restoration to prosperity. John Tillotson was born October 23, 1630; he became a learned and eloquent man, he was good-tem- pered, and much beloved in private life. It is nearly impossible to gather from his bio- graphy whether he had been a dissenting pi eacher, but as it is certain that he preached before ordination, doubtless he was so. The religion of Tillotson before the Restoration, was of that species professed by independents who are on good terms with the Socinians. He was chaplain and tutor to the sons of 421 [ 1677 * A case of fictitious distress. supply by the express that his uncles sent to invite him affectionately back to Whitehall, instead of presenting himself and his princess in a state of complaining mendicity at Canterbury, is inconsistent with plain dealing. As he had been paid the first instalment of the 40,000Z. which was the portion of the princess, his credit was good in Eng- land. The fact is, that the birth of the young brother of Mary had rendered this ambitious politician desperate, and he was making a bold dash at obtaining partisans, by representing himself as an ill-treated person. The prince and princess of Orange lingered no less than four days at their inn in Canterbury, cultivating the acquaintance of their new friend Dr. Tillotson, and receiving the congratulations of the gentry and nobility of Kent, in whose eyes William endeavoured sedulously to render himself an object of pity and distress ; great quantities of provisions were sent in by them for his use. He left Canterbury, November the 27th, and went that night with the princess and her train on board the Montague at Margate, commanded by Sir John Holmes, who set sail the next day. The ice prevented the fleet from entering the Maes, but the princess and her spouse, after a quick but stormy passage, were landed at Tethude, a town on the Holland coast, and went direct to the Hounslardyke-palace. It was remarked, that the princess of Orange was the only female on board who did not suffer from sea-sickness,^ an advantage she owed to her frequent excursions on the sea with her then beloved father, who delighted in taking his daughters to Ports- mouth or Plymouth with him when he made his yacht voyages to review the English fleet as Lord High Admiral. The princess, besides lady Inchiquin (Mary Yilliers), was accompanied by Elizabeth and Anne Yilliers : the mother of these sisters, her late governess, expired of the smallpox at St J ames’s-palace before the prince of Orange had finished his mysterious transactions at Canterbury .2 The princess had likewise with her, in the capacity of maid of honour, Mary Wroth, or Worth, a relative of the Sidney family. Each of these girls disquieted her married life. Both the unmarried Yilliers were older than herself, and she was eclipsed in the eyes of her sullen lord by their maturer charms. The prince of Orange fell in love with Elizabeth Yilliers, and scandal was likewise afloat relative to him and her sister Anne, who subsequently married his favourite, Bentinck. Much wonder is expressed by lady Mary Wortley Montague, and likewise by Swift, Prideaux, attorney-general of Oliver Grom- rapid preferment, until he is found dean of well. Tillotson subsequently married Ebina Canterbury, in 1677. This account is ab- Wilkins, a niece of Oliver Cromwell. When stracted from Dr. Birch’s biography of arch- upwardsof 2000 conscientious nonconformists bishop Tillotson. forsook their livings rather than comply with 1 Dr. Lake’s MS. Diary. the tenets of the church of England, our 2 Birch’s Life of Tillotson. Dr. Lake’s MS. church actually gained John Tillotson, who, Sidney Diary. being possessed of great eloquence, a1beroK^^:al.ways : by hersel f. It was remarked that the princesi^ who'hever wiEfe'1acGU90t? to walk on foot in public places, was now ^pr ever promefiad^igiJEV mall, leaning on the arm of Monmouth ; akfc that the ,prifife, formerly the most jealous person in existence, suffere^\his gallantry, world noticed, between the duke and his wif^ The gaiety at of the Hague,” he continues, “is universal. world dancing at the balls he gave, and encouraged hik’gTOStn^iTEis wife by dancing himself. He likewise obliged the princess to receive at her court, and to countenance, the duke of Monmouth’s mistress or secondary wife, lady Harriet Wentworth.” The ill-treated heiress of Buccleuch, Monmouth’s duchess and the mother of his children, was living deserted in England : she had been the most particular friend and companion of the princess of Orange, who ought, therefore, to have resented, rather than encouraged any introduction to her supplanter. The duke of York wrote, with unwonted sternness, to his daughter, remonstrating against these proceedings. She shed tears on her father’s letter ; but she an- swered, “ that the prince was her master, and would be obeyed.” Eye- witnesses did not deem that the conduct of the princess was induced by mere obedience. She was either partial to Monmouth — as her friend and correspondent, the German duchess of Orleans, implies — or she rushed into pleasure with the hilarity of a caged bird into the open air. If her seclusion had been as severe as the French ambassador declared it was, she was glad of liberty and exercise on any terms. At the conclusion of one of his letters of remonstrance, her father bade her warn her husband, “ that if the king and himself were removed by death from their path, the duke of Monmouth, whatsoever the prince might think of his friend- ship, would give them a struggle before they could possess the throne of Great Britain.” ^ A dim light is thrown on the correspondence between James II. and his daughter, by garbled extracts made by Hr. Birch, a chaplain of the princess Anne. Some motive fettered his transcribing pen, since letters, apparently of the strongest personal interest, furnish him but with two *or three broken sentences ; for instance, in January the 27th, 1685, a few days before the duke of York ascended the throne, when he wrote to remonstrate with her on her extraordinary conduct with Monmouth. Hr. Birch’s brief quotation from this paternal reproof is, that her father “ supposes she was kept in awe *” that, from Mary’s ^ D’Avaux’ Ambassades, vol. iv. p. 217. Bib. du Roi. 2 Dalrymple’s Appendix, and Macpherson’i History of Great Britain. 454 Mary IL [i684-5. answer, ‘‘ denies being kept in awe — her condition much happier than he believed.” ^ All the noisy gaieties and rejoicings at the Orange court were hushed and dispelled, as if by the sweep of an enchanter’s wand, on the noon of February 10 (o. s.), 1684-5, when the tidings arrived of the death of Chanles II., and the peaceable accession of the princess’s father to the throne of Great Britain, as James II. D’Avaux thus describes the change effected by the announcement of the news at the palace of the Hague : ^ “ Letters from England, of the 6th of February, o. s., arrived here at seven this morning ; they communicated the sorrowful tidings of the death of the king of England, Charles IL The prince of Orange did not go into the chamber of his wife, where she was holding a court of reception for the ladies of the Hague : he sent a message, requesting her to come down and hear the news. The duke of Monmouth came like- wise to listen to these despatches. It is said that Mary manifested deep affliction at the death of her uncle. Monmouth retired to his own lodging, and came to the prince at ten in the evening : they were shut up together till midnight sounded. Then Monmouth, the same night, left the Hague secretly ; and so well was his departure hidden, that it was supposed at noon the next day that he was in bed. The prince of Orange gave him money for his journey.” ^ To his daughter, James II. announced his prosperous accession with the utmost warmth of paternal tenderness ; to the prince of Orange, with remarkable dryness and brevity.^ The prince, who had never supposed that his father-in-law would ascend the British throne, after the strong attempts to exclude him on account of his religion, found himself, if regarded as his enemy, in an alarming predica- ment. His first manoeuvre, in consequence, was to take out of his wife’s hand the paternal letter sent to her by her father, and read it aloud to the assembled states of Holland as if it had been written to himself.® He wrote to the new sovereign an apologetical epistle in the lowest strain of humility, explaining “that Monmouth only came as a suppliant, was shown a little common hospitality, and had been sent away.” A glow of fervent enthusiasm and a prostration of devotion now marked his letters to James IL In one of his epistles William says : “ Nothing can happen which will make me change the fixed attachment I have for your interests. I should be the most unhappy man in the world if you were not persuaded of it, and should not have the goodness to continue me a little in your good graces, since I shall be, to the last breath of my life, yours, with zeal and fidelity.” ® The usually affectionate correspondence between James II. and his ' Additional MSS. 4163, vol. i. ; Birch dates Feb. 20, but he has used the new style. Papers, British Museum. 4 Dalrymple’s Appendix, where the letter ^ D’Avaux’ Ambassades, vol. iv. pp. 217- is quoted. 266. ^ Macpherson. ^ Ibid., vol. iv. pp. 217 266. D’Avaux 6 Dalrymple’s Appendix, French letter. i 685 .] Defends the bishop of London, 455 daughter Mary, had now become interspersed with their differences of opinion on religion. The partialities of each were in direct opposition to the other — his for the church of Rome, she frequenting the worship of the Dutch. Neither had much regard for the true resting-place be- tween the two — the church of England, as established at the period of the present translation of the Scriptures. According to Dr. Birch’s meagre extracts, king James wrote to his daughter Mary, from Windsor, August 22, to express — “ His surprise to find her so ill-informed of the bishop of London’s behaviour, to the late king and to him- self, both as duke and king, as to write [to him] in his favour ; that the bishop deserved no respect from him, and was far from having the true church of England principles.” Mary, in her answer dated the 26th of August, “ vindicated her former preceptor as a good and loyal man.” ^ An error, fatal to himself, was committed by James II., in complying with the request in which his daughter was induced to join, by allowing Henry Sidney to return to the Hague as the commander of the English forces, which were lent to the prince of Orange as a support equally against the ambition of France and the party in Holland adverse to the stadtholdership, for every officer who did not become a partisan of the views of the prince of Orange on the throne of Great Britain was an object of persecution, and was very glad to obtain his own dismissal and return to England. Since the departure of Dr. Ken, it was noticed that Mary had attended more than ever the preachings of the Dutch minis- ters. It was observed that Monmouth, who had accompanied her to their meetings, had, in his latter years, manifested great partiality to the fatalist sects. The invasion of England by Monmouth, his nominal assumption of the royal dignity, and his execution, were events which followed each other with startling celerity. It is evident, from his own memoirs, that James II. regretted that he was forced to put Monmouth to death. The proclamation, in which Monmouth calls his uncle “ the murderer and poisoner of Charles 11.,” rendered any pardon from James 11. self-accusation. Whether the mind of Mary had been warped against her father by the party-exiles who swarmed in Holland, or whether her motives were the more degrading ones attributed to her by her relative and correspx)ndent, 2 the German duchess of Orleans, can scarcely be sur- mised ; but reasoning from facts and results, it is evident that she never forgave her father the death of Monmouth. Since the departure of Dr. Ken, it was impossible for the father of the princess to send any loyal person, in any official capacity, who could be endured at her court. Skelton, the new envoy, was liked still less than Chudleigh. A complete antipathy had subsisted between Dr. Ken and 1 Additional MSS., British Museum. 2 Memoirs of the Duchess of Orleans. 456 i685. Mary II, William of Orange, but the dignity of character pertaining to the disin- terested churchman had awed the prince from the practices to which he had recourse in order to discover what Ken’s successor. Dr. Coveil, thought of the married felicity of the princess. Truly, in this proceed- ing the hero of Nassau verified the proverb, that eavesdroppers hear no good of themselves. The princess was at Dieren, surrounded by the in- imical circle of the Villiers, to whose aid a fourth, their sister Catharine, the same damsel squired by little Charley Dormer, the page of the prince, but the pet of the princess, had lately arrived from England. Catharine had now married the marquis de Puissars, and is set down by the English chaplain as the very worst of the sisterhood. It was an allusion to the infamous Elizabeth Villiers which exasperated the Dutch phlegm of William of Orange into the imprudence of acknowledging the ungentle- manlike ways by which he obtained possession of the quaint document written by his consort’s almoner. Dr. Covell. The prince had, by some indirect means, learned that the correspondence between Covell and Skelton, the envoy, passed though the hands of D’Alonne, the secretary to the princess. After obtaining and copying Dr. Covell’s letter, he sent it to Lawrence Hyde, the uncle of the princess of Orange, accom- panied by his holograph letter in French, of which the following is a translation : — ^ “ I had for some time suspected,” says the prince of Orange,^ ‘‘that Dr. Covell was not a faithful servant to the princess. The last time I was at the Hague, a letter fell into my hands which he had written to Skelton, the ambassador. I opened it, and at my return to Dieren, where the doctor was with the 'princess^ I took the doctor’s cipher and deciphered it, as you will see by the copy annexed ; the original (which 1 have), written and signed with his own hand, he acknowledged when I showed it to him. You will, no doubt, be surprised that a man of his profession could be so great a knave.” ^ The surprise is, however, greater to find that a prince, who bore a character for heroism, and even for magnanimity, should first purloin a private letter, break the seal to espy the contents, then take the doctor’s cipher — but how ? unless his serene highness had picked the doctor’s desk, he does not explain — and then continue his practices till he had laboured out a fair copy of the letter, which, to complete his absurdity, he sent to the very parties that the old doctor especially wished should know how he treated his wife. James II. and Clarendon were not a little diverted at the fact, that the prince of Orange had spent his time in making out a ciphered letter as complimentary to himself and court as the following : 1 Clarendon Correspondence, vol. i. p. 165, 2 Ibid. 457 i 685 .] The deciphered letter. “ Dr. Covell to Mr. Skelton, the Ambassador. “ Dieren, October 1685. “ Your honour may be astonished at the news, but it is too true, that the princess’s heart is like to break ; and yet she every day, with mistress Jesson and madame Zulestein [Mary Worth], counterfeits the greatest joy, and looks upon us as dogged as may be. We dare no more speak to her. The prince hath infallibly made her his absolute slave, and there is an end of it. I wish to God I could see the king give you some good thing for your life ; I would have it out of the power of any revo- cation, for, I assure you, I fear the prince will for ever rule the roast. As for Mr. Chudleigh,^ if his business be not done beyond the power of the prince before the king [James II.] die, he will be in an ill taking. But I wonder what makes the prince so cold to you. None but infa- mous people must expect any tolerable usage here. I beseech God pre- serve the king [James 11. ] many and many years. I do not wonder much at the new marchioness’s [Catharine Yilliers] behaviour, it is so like the breed. We shall see fine doings if we once come to town. What would you say if the princess should take her into the chapel, or, in time, into the bedchamber? I cannot fancy the sisters [Villiers] will long agree. You guess right about Mr. D’Alonne, for he is secretary in that, as well as other private affairs. The princess is just now junketing with madame Bentinck [Anne Yilliers] and Mrs. Jesson, in madame Zulestein’s chamber. Believe me, worthy sir, ever with all sincere devotion to be, “ Your honour’s, &c. “ Let me know how you were received at the hoff [Orange court]. This letter strongly confirms the intelligence regarding the princess transmitted by the French ambassador, D’Avaux, for the information of his court ; and is, moreover, corroborated by the previous remonstrances of Dr. Ken on the ill-treatment of Mary. Nor, when the strong family connections are considered of the intriguante Elizabeth Yilliers, repre- sented by old Dr. Covell as surrounding the princess at all times, equally in her court and in the privacy of her chamber, will his picture of the slavery to which she was reduced be deemed exaggerated. With Dr. Covell a general clearance of all persons supposed to be attached to the royal family in England took place : they were all thrust out of the household of the princess. Bentinck, whose wife is mentioned in Dr. Covell’s letter, thus details their dismission in an epistle to Sidney : ^ “ You will be surprised to find the changes at our court, for her royal highness, madame the princess, on seeing the letter which the prince had got hy chance, dismissed Dr. Covell, without any further chastisement, because of his profession ; and as it was suspected that Mrs. Langford and * The former envoy, displaced by the com- vol. ii. pp. 254, 255, where may be seen the plaint of the prince. original French letter of Bentinck. 2 Sidney Diary, edited by Mr. Blencowe, 458 Mary II, [iGss. Miss Trelawny had been leagued with him, her royal highness, madame the princess, has sent them off this morning. The second chaplain, Langford, is also in this intrigue. I do not complain of the malice these people have shown in my case,” continued Bentiuck, “ seeing that they have thus betrayed their master and mistress. I beg, that if you hear any one speak of the sort of history they have charitably made at our expense, you will send us word, for they have reported as if we [Bentinck and his wife] had failed of respect to her royal highness, madame the princess, at our arrival at Hounslardyke, and I should wish to ‘ know what is said.’ ” If Bentinck and his master could have obtained Barillon’s despatches by some such “accident” as gave them possession of Dr. Covell’s letter, they would have found that king James remarked reason- ably enough on the incident. “If the prince of Orange really behaved like a true friend to him, and a good husband to his daughter, it was strange that he should be so enraged at her earliest friends and oldest servants writing news by the British resident of her health, and the manner of passing her time.” The king alluded to the fact, “that Mrs. Langford was the nurse of his daughter Mary, whose husband, Mr. Langford, was one of her chaplains ; Anne Trelawny, one of her ladies, had been a playfellow, whom the princess Mary loved better than any one in the world.” “ The princess suffered agonies ^ when the prince of Orange, suspecting that Anne Trelawny was among the disapprovers of his conduct, forced her to return to England at this juncture.” ^ The prince of Orange informed Lawrence Hyde, the uncle of the princess, that he left the punishment of Dr. Coveil to his bishop ; but he demanded of king James the dismissal of the envoy Skelton, for having the queer letter already quoted written to him by the said Dr. Co veil, which, in fact, Skelton had never received. Hyde drily replied, by the order of the king, “ that frequent changes were great impediments to business ; and reminded him that the other envoy, Chudleigh, had been dismissed for a private misunderstanding.” Skelton remained, writing to his royal master, calling his attention to the intrigues by which his son-in-law was working his deposition,^ receiving but little belief from James H., who either would not or could not suspect the faith of a son and daughter, when both of them were writing to him letters, apparently of an affectionate and confidential kind, every post- day. The princess of Orange greatly exasperated the French ambas- sador by the sympathy she manifested for his Protestant countrymen. 1 This curious and obscure passage in and old friends, as well as by the French am- Mary’s early married life has been collated bassadors, D’Avaux and Barillon. and collected from the despatches of her 2 Barillon, Oct., 1685. friends, relatives foes, and servants ; namely, ^ Dalrymple’s Appendix, and Macpherson’s from those written by her uncle Lawrence, History and Stuart Papers, her husband the prince of Orange, her father, i 685 - 6 .J She obtains guards for the prince from the States, 469 He wrote to his court, January 3, 1686 : — “ Only two days ago, she told a story of a fire having been lighted under a pot, in which were two young Protestant girls, in France.” ^ The ambassador complained to the prince of Orange, and requested him “ to restrain the princess from talking thus but the prince coldly observed, “ that he could not.” Holland and England were then full of the refugees who had fled from the detestable persecutions in France. In this instance James II. and his daughter acted in unison, for he gave them refuge in England, and relieved them with money and other necessaries.^ It was in the same spring that the princess of Orange, by a mani- festation of her conjugal fears, obtained from the States-General the appointment of body-guards for her husband, who had hitherto been without that indication of sovereign dignity. Of a plot against the freedom of Mary’s consort, she was informed by Dr. Burnet and one Mr. W. Facio, who afterwards fell out with each other, and gave different versions of it. “ Scheveling is a sea village,” begins the plot memorial, about two or three miles from the palace of the Hague, whither all people, from the rank of the prince and princess to the lowest boor and boorine, take the air, in fine weather, on summer evenings. A stately long avenue leads to the dunes from the back of the Hague palace- gardens, planted on each side with many rows of tall trees.” The dunes are interspersed with portions of short turf, and arenaria ; the rest where the roots do not bind it, is a desert of deep, loose sand ; con- sequently, a heavy carriage with horses always would have great diffi- culty in traversing the road, which was very troublesome towards the north dunes? ‘‘ The prince of Orange,” wrote the informer of the plot, “ would often go in a chariot drawn by six horses, in the cool of a summer’s evening, to take the air for two hours along the sea-shore, with only one person in the carriage with him ; and in order to avoid all troublesome salutations, he went.northward a great way beyond where the other carriages did walk^ none of which dared follow him, so that he was almost out of sight.” An agent of the king of France went to lie in wait, with two boats, on the Scheveling beach, each manned with armed desperadoes : and, when the Dutch prince’s carriage was slowly ploughing its way among the sandy dunes, the men were to march to surround .the prince, who, being thus enclosed between the two gangs, was to be taken, rowed off to a brig of war under Dutch colours, and carried to France. The scheme was attributed to a count Feril, or Fenil, 1 Ambassades D’Avaux, vol. v. p. 219. fugee leaders, which overflow with gratitude 2 I'here is direct evidence of this part : see to James II., for what the grateful Huguenot Toone’s Chronology, Macpherson, and a letter calls his inestimable kindness to them in their of Henry lord Clarendon. James devoted miseries. 60,000i. of the contents of his well-regulated ^ In Yarmouth these sea-side plains are treasury, to the good work of the hospitable called danes, or denes, but both words mean provision for his poor guests. See, likewise the same as downs. the works of Dr. Peter Allix, one of the re- 460 Mary 11. [ 1636 . an Italian officer in a French regiment, who had been banished from France for killing his enemy in a duel. M. Facio, then a youth, the son of the man with whom he (Fenil) lodged at Duyviliers, heard the matter in confidence. By a notable concatenation of accidents. Dr. Burnet met the confidant of the originator of “ the plot,” as he bent his course to Holland. It seems very strange in this story, that the alleged conspirator, count Fenil, should have trusted his intentions several months before “ the plot ” was matured to this young man, who happened to be travelling to Geneva, where he happened to encounter Burnet, who happened to be travelling to Holland, where he happened to find the narrative a convenient means of introduction to the princess of Orange, for policy forbade her just then receiving with particular marks of distinction any exile from her father’s court, after the suppres- sion of the Monmouth insurrection. Having requested an interview on matters of life and death with her royal highness, Burnet told his alarm- ing tale with such effect, that the princess, in an agony of conjugal fear, entreated, in her turn, a conference on matters of life and death with some members of the States-General of the Orange faction, to hear and see the reverend person tell his story ^ and produce his witness. The result was, that the princess obtained from a majority of the States-General the first appointment of her husband’s body-guards — a step greatly adverse to the terms on which he held his stadtholder- ship. James IT. sent his friend William Pen, the illustrious philanthropist, to his daughter and her husband in January, 1686, to convince them hy his eloquence of the propriety of his abolishing all laws tending to per- secution. “ Pen,” says D’Avaux, “ wrote with his own hand a long letter,” averring “ that many of the bishops had agreed that the English penal laws were cruel and bad, and ought to be annulled.” On which William declared, “ he would lose all the revenues and reversion of the kingdom of Great Britain, to which his wife was heiress, before one should be abolished.” The princess echoed his words, but much more at length, and with much sharpness. Among other expressions, Mary said,‘^ that If ever she was queen of England, she should do more for the Protestants than even queen Elizabeth.” When Mary perceived the impression she had made, she modified her manner in discussing the differences between her father’s views and her own, adding, in a more moderate, and at the same time more dignified tone, to Pen, “ I speak to you, sir, with less reserve, and with more liberty than to the king my father, by reason of the respectful deference which I am 1 It is a curious circumstance, that Burnet version of it, strongly illustrative of the wise is very cautious in all his allusions to this proverb. When rogues fall out, &c. queer tale, which he does not attempt to nar- 2 Ambassades D’Avaux : Bibiiotheque du rate either in history or manuscript. The Hoi, Paris, vol. v. p. 67. truth is, that Facio, or Tacio, had printed a 461 ]686.j William Pen at the Hague. obliged to entertain for him and his sentiments.”^ William Pen, on this mission, incurred the enmity of the princess of Orange, which en- dured through her life. The practical wisdom and justice which he had shown, as the founder of a prosperous colouy under the patronage of James, when duke of York, ought to have made the heiress of the British empire consider herself under inestimable obligations to the illustrious man of peace. The prince of Orange was less violent than his wife in the matter, and astutely endeavoured to bargain with Pen, as the price of his consent, “ that king James should allow his daughter a handsome pension of 48,000Z. per annum, as heiress of the British throne.” James II. was rich, and free from debt, either public or private ; but he demurred on this proposition, saying, ‘‘ he must first ascertain clearly that this large income, if he sent it out of the country, would not be used against himself.” Dr. Burnet became from the time of the ‘‘ plot ” extremely intimate at the court of Orange. James II., in a letter to his daughter, dated from Whitehall, November 23, 1686, spoke of Burnet “ as a man not to be trusted, and an ill man ^ afterwards, “ as a dangerous man, who would seem to be an angel of light though “ of a pleasant conversa- tion, and the best flatterer he ever knew.” The princess replied to her father in a letter from the Hague, December, in a letter full of Burnet’s praises.^ CHAPTER III. It must be borne in mind by our readers that our present pages are devoted to the contemporaneous biographies of two sisters. Therefore, a retrospective movement must be made of one year or more in order to reveal all that the younger princess, the sister Anne, was doing in England. The inimical conduct of the princess of Orange towards her father, which commenced a few months before his accession, caused him to bestow a double portion of fondness on her younger sister. Anne had, in her infancy, been the spoiled favourite of her mother, while her father lavished his most tender affections on her elder sister.'* At this time Anne was the best beloved of his heart ; he was never happy out of her presence ; he was never known to deny a request of hers, though it was not very easy for hqr to make one, since he anticipated her every want and wish. Of course her rank and dignity were greatly augmented when he became a reigning sovereign. Charles II. died on the birthday of Anne, 1 Mazure’s deciphering of Alheville’s de- ■* See, letter of her step-mother, at the end spatches to James II. of this chapter, where she reminds Mary that 2 Additional MSS., British Museum, 4163, she was considered his best-beloved in in- folio 1. ^ Ibid. fancy. 462 Mary II, [i685. February 6, 1685. All thoughts were directed to her on her father’s acces- sion, for the people fully expected the succession would be continued by her descendants. She had brought into the world a daughter in the. reign of her uncle, but this child scarcely lived to be baptized. There was, however, speedy promise of more offspring, insomuch that the princess Anne could take no other pnrt at her father’s coronation (St. George’s-day, 1685) than beholding it from a close box in Westminster- abbey, which was prepared for her below that of the ambassadors. The princess Anne heard herself mentioned at the coronation of her father in the following prayer : “ 0 Lord, our God, who upholdest and governest all things in heaven and earth, receive our humble prayers for our sovereign lord, James, set over us by thy grace and providence to be our king ; and so together with him bless his ro 3 ^al consort our gracious queen Mary, Catharine the queen-dowager, their royal highnesses Mary the princess of Orange, and the princess Anne of Denmark, and the whole royal family.^ Endue them with thy holy Spirit, enrich them ” ■^concluding in the words of the supplication for the royal family in our liturgy. It is a remarkable circumstance, that James II. thus par- ticularly distinguished both his daughters by name and titles in this prayer, although in that century, as in the present, only the heir- apparent among the children of the sovereign, or at most an heir-presumptive, was usually mentioned. In all probability, he thus designated them to prevent all disputes regarding their title to the succession in case of his death, as their mother was only a private gentlewoman. The princess of Orange and the princess Anne were certainly thus named in the liturgy every time divine service was celebrated by the church of Eng- land until they deposed their father : it is an instance that he was not disposed, in any way, to slight their claims, either to royalty or his paternal care. James II. Tvas kinder to his daughters than George II. to his heir, for in the very volume which gives this information, a similar prayer,^ in the very words, is quoted ; but in regard to the nomenclature, only king George and his queen Caroline are prayed for ; neither Frederick prince of Wales nor their other children are named. Great friendship apparently prevailed at the epoch of the coronation between the princess Anne and her step-mother. Before the newly- crowned queen, Mary Beatrice, commenced her procession back to West- minster-hall, she entered the box of the princess Anne,* to show her dress, and hold friendly conference : Anne and prince George of Den- mark, who bore his spouse company, conversed with her a considerable 1 Sand ford, repeated by Menin, in bis Coro- 2 Menin’s English Coronations ; in the nation Ceremonials of England, p. 16 . He Coronation-service for George II. edited this as a guide to the coronation of ^ King’s MSS., British Museum : Recueil de (reorge II., the ceremonial of which is printed Pieces, with it. i 685 .] a daughter horn to Anne. 463 time. The princess Anne accompanied the queen to behold the grand ceremony of the king’s opening his first parliament ; both Anne ^ and her step-mother were on the right of the throne : they were considered incog. The princess of Denmark had the satisfaction of hearing the pope and the worship Virgin Mary fully defied and renounced before the Koman catholic queen. Ten days afterwards, May 22, the princess Anne brought into the world a daughter, who was baptized Mary, after the princess of Orange. James 11. himself announced this event to “ his son, the prince of Orange,” in one of those familiar letters he wrote to him by almost every post : “My daughter, the princess of Denmark, was this day brought to bed of a girl. I have not time to say more now, but to assure you that I shall always be as kind to you as you can desire.” ^ Three days afterwards, the king mentions his uneasiness regarding her health in another letter to William : “ My daughter was taken ill this morning, having had vapours [hysterics], which sometimes trouble women in her condition. This frighted us at first, but now, God be thanked, our fears are over. She took some remedies, and has slept after them most of this afternoon and evening, and is in a very good way, which is all I can say to you now, but to assure you of my kindness.” ^ On any such alarm regarding the health of his beloved daughter, the king, who was a very early riser, would enter her apartment and sit by her bedside. Her uncle mentions that James’s paternal tenderness would bring him to the sick bed of the princess Anne as early as five or six in the morning, and he often sat by her for two hours.'^ The state and homage James IT. allowed his youngest daughter to assume at Whitehall chapel are very remarkable. James IT. himself went to mass, but he permitted the princess Anne -to occupy the royal closet at Whitehall, and at other palace chapels ; and it was his pleasure that the same honours were to be paid her as if he were present in per- son. Dr. Tennison used to make three conges towards the royal closet; after service, Evelyn asked him, “ Why he did so, as king James was not there ?” Tennison replied, that the king had given him express orders to do so, whenever his daughter the princess Anne was present.® The place of the princess was on the left hand of the royal seat ; the clerk of the closet stood by her chair, as if the king himself had been at chapel. This anecdote is a confirmation of the positive assei’lion of James himself and other authors, that he neither attempted to impede nor persecute her in her attendance on the church of England worship, but rather to give every distinction and encouragement to it.® It was, perhaps, an impolitic indulgence to feed his daughter’s appetite for 1 Evelyn. * Evelyn's Diary. 2 Dalrymple’s Appendix. s Lord Clarendon’s Journal, vol. iii, p. 201. 2 Letters of James II. to the prince of Duchess of Marlborough’s Conduct. Orange. Dalrymple’s Appendix, part i. p. 17. 464 Mary II. [168 5 , royal ceremonials, and for bowings and personal homages from the altar, as if she had been the visible head of the established church ; but James IL, though an acute observer of facts, which he skilfully combined as a commander, or a financier, or a founder of colonies, knew nothing of the liigher science of the springs of passion in the human mind. He treated his daughter Anne as the ultimate heiress to the British throne ; he fostered in her disposition an ambition for the mere externals of majesty, without considering that she would not choose to relinquish them at the birth of a brother. In the following letter, addressed to Dr. Francis Turner, bishop of Ely, she seems to avoid all these distinctions, perhaps out of respect for the character of the apostolic man she wished to hear. The princess requested him to keep a place for her in Ely chapel, to hear Dr. Ken expound the church catechism. “ Princess Anne of Denmark to the Bishop of Ely.^ “ I hear the bishop of Bath and Wells expounds this afternoon at your chapel, and I have a great mind to hear him ; therefore I desire you would do me the favour to let some place be kept for me, where I may hear well, and be the least taken notice of, for I shall bring but one lady with me, and desire I may not be known. I should not have given you the trouble, but that I was afraid if I had sent anybody, they might have made a mistake. Pray let me know what time it begins.” The princess Anne received from her father, at his accession, an augmentation of revenue which was fit for the heir-apparent of an em- pire. James II. made up her allowance to 32,000Z. ; it was more than the income settled by parliament on his late royal highness prince Albert. When tested by the great difference of financial arrangement from the present day, the exceeding is enormous of such a sum in solid money. The whole yearly expenditure of the realm was, in the reign of Charles II., averaged at one million and a half per annum ; 2 this sum, with the exception of the crown-land income, constituted the whole outlay of king and state. From the revenue, 32,000^. bestowed on the princess Anne seems a liberal share.® James II., by his financial skill, and his vigilance in defending the taxes from the rapacity of those who farmed them, raised the revenue of Great Britain to 2, 250,000^., with which small sum he covered all expenses, and maintained a navy victorious over the seas of the world. The value of the allowance he gave to his daughter Anne, before the funded debt existed, must have been more than double that sum in the present day. “ It cannot be denied,” wrote a contemporary,^ who had belonged to the court of James II., “ that the king was a very kind parent to the princess Anne : he inquired into her 1 Dr. Francis Turner was subsequently one 2 Toone’s Chronology, of the bishops who were imprisoned by her ^ Lansdowne MS. father, and yet refused to own allegiance ^ Roger Coke’s Detectiou. either to Mary II. or Anne. iGsG.j James II, jpays Annes debts. 465 debts at the Christmas after his accession, and took care to clear her of every one. Yet she made some exceedings in 1686, and lord Godolphin complained and grumbled ; still her father paid all she owed, without a word of reproach.*’ The princess Anne, from the hour that another husband was provided for her, wisely thought no more of the accomplished earl of Mulgrave, who subsequently married her illegitimate sister, Catharine.^ The prince of Denmark was considered an example of the domestic affections, and l)roved a kind, quiet husband. His easy and sensual life in England very soon stifled his warlike energies under an excess of corpulence. He could imbibe much wine without visible signs of inebriety, yet a smalt portion of his potations would have reversed the reason of a temperate man. Charles II. reproved the prince, in his jocose manner, for his tendency to sluggish indulgence. Although the princess Anne and the prince of Denmark were nearly every year the parents of children, yet their little ones either expired as soon as they saw the light, or lingered only flve or six months. Their deaths were probably occasioned by hydrocephalus, which, when con- stitutional, sweeps off' whole families of promising infants. The third daughter of the princess Anne and prince George of Denmark was born in May, 1686, at Windsor-castle. Lady Churchill and lady Eoscommon were godmothers to this infant, and gave it the name of Anne Sophia. The babe was healthy ; although the little lady Mary was weak and lan- guishing, yet tho youngest gave every hope of reaching maturity. These hopes were cruelly blighted six months afterwards. Prince George was taken very ill at that time, and remained many days in actual danger of death. The princess nursed him most assiduously. Scarcely was she relieved from the hourly dread of seeing her husband expire, when the little lady Sophia suddenly fell ill, and died on her mother’s birthday, the second anniversary of the decease of Charles II. The eldest infant had for months been in a consumption ; she expired within a few hours. Thus the princess was left childless in one day. Eachel lady Eussell draws a pathetic picture of Anne’s feelings, divided as they were between grief for the bereavement of her offspring and anxiety for her husband. “ The good princess ^ has taken her chastisement heavily : the first relief of that sorrow proceeded from calming of a greater, the prince being so ill of a fever. I never heard any relation more moving than that of seeing them together. Sometimes they wept, sometimes they mourned in words, but hand-in-hand ; he sick in his bed, she the carefullest nurse to him that can be imagined. As soon as he was able, they went to Eichmond-palace, which w^as Thursday last. The poor princess is still wonderful sad. The children were opened : the eldest was all consumed I Daughter of James II., by' Catharine Sed- ^ ms. letters of Rachel lady Russell ; Birch ley. Collections, Plut. cvi, p. 13, VOL. V, 2 II 466 Mary IL [iGsG. away, as expected ; but the youngest quite healthy, and every appearance for longlife.” The infants were buried in St. George’s-chapel, Windsor. At the interment of the little lady Sophia, the burial-place of her grandlather, Charles I., was discovered in the chapel. Although the date does not agree with the demise of these infants, yet this letter of Mary princess of Orange to her brother-in-law, prince George of Den- mark, could not have been written on any other occasion : — “ Mary Princess of Orange to Prince George of Denmark.^ “ Monsieur my Brother, “ I have learned with extreme concern (deplessir) the misfortune of my sister by your letter, and I assure you that it touches me as nearly as if it had happened to myself ; but since it is the will of God it must be submitted to with patience. We have great cause to praise this good God that my sister is in such a good state, and I hope will re-establish her health entirely, and bless you together with many other infants, who may live to console their parents for those who are dead. I wish for some better occasion to testify to you how much I am, monsieur my brother, &c. “ From Loo, this 13th Novr. “ A Monsieur mon Fr^re, le Prince George de Danmark.” At Christmas, 1686, notwithstanding the liberality of her allow- ance, the princess Anne was found to be overwhelmed with debt.^ As there was no outlay commensurate with a second extravagant defal- cation, Lawrence Hyde, lord Kochester, the uncle of the princess, began to suspect that some greedy favourites secretly drained her funds. He did not keep his suspicions to himself, and the person who testified con- sciousness by furious resentment, was Sarah Churchill, who, in consequence, visited him through life with active hatred. Few pages of her copious his- torical apologies occur without violent railings against this lord treasurer, his wife, or some of the Clarendon family.^ “ When the princess’s uncle lord Clarendon was made lord-lieutenant of Ireland,” says lady Churchill, “ my lady Clarendon left as first lady at the Cockpit, the princess was very glad, because, though she was considered a good woman, she had taken an aversion to her. It was soon guessed that I must succeed her in her post ; and at this time the princess wrote to me ‘ that she intended to take two new pages of the backstairs, she having then but two, one of whom was extreme old and past service ; but that she would not do it till my lady Clarendon was gone, that I might have the advantage of putting in the two pages,’ meaning that I should sell these two places. And upon this established custom and direction from the princess (as it was not to be expected that I should immediately set up to reform the 1 Upcott Collection. * Coxe MSS, vol. xliv. ; letters of the 2 Coxe MSS. and quoted in Ralph’s Other duchess of Marlborough to Mr. Hutchinson, Side of the Question. inedited. Brit. Museum. i 686 .] Annes third involvement, 467 court in this respect) I did sell these places : with some other advantage, they came to 1,200Z.” * But as soon as Sarah Churchill had comfortably pocketed her cash, the prince and princess of Orange by some means discovered the fact that the two new pages of their sister Anne’s backstairs were Eoman catho- lics. Their vigilance on a point important to the good success of the coming revolution, roused the princess Anne from the supine satisfaction in which she reposed. Although her needy favourite had made so excellent a market, she was forced to command the instant dismissal of her Roman catholic attendants at the door-stairs of her sitting rooms. The warning of the princess of Orange not only displaced these dan- gerous watchers on the conduct of the princess Anne, but had the con- secutive result of obliging Sarah Churchill to refund eight hundred of the twelve hundred pounds she mentions having recently netted on the occasion. However, four hundred pounds clung to her fingers, which was a goodly gain for an ineffectual recommendation. It is nevertheless to be feared, that the personal hatred which avowedly had previously subsisted between the princess of Orange and Sarah Churchill, was not soothed by the painful but inevitable process of refunding the eight hun- dred pounds. It is worth remarking, that the lady herself quotes the anecdote ^ in support of her own warm self-praises, as an instance of her scorn of making money by selling offices in her mistress’s household. One of these Roman catholic pages, of the name of Gwynn, had been a servant of the princess Anne of some standing ; she secured to him a salary for life, in compensation for the loss of his place on account of his religion. In pecuniary transactions, Anne was always generous to the utmost of her ability. She discharged her old servitor for political rea- sons, but left him not to starve. Whether by gambling or by gifts to the Churchills, the princess Anne again impaired her revenue and overwhelmed herself with debts. The accounts of the princess passed through the hands of one of Sarah’s familiars, whom she had introduced into the establishment at the Cock- pit. Assuredly, if rogues write essays on their “ conduct,” they ought to be “ gifted ” with long memories. A Mr. Maule having proved un- grateful to Sarah Churchill some months after the revolution, she recri- minated in the following words : “ I had not only brought him to be bedchamber-man to the pilnce, when he was quite a stranger to the court, but, to mend his salary, had invented an employment for him — that of overlooking the princess’s accounts.” ^ The result of this bright invention was, a figuring on the side of the debit column of the princess’s accounts of 7,000Z. higher than the credits. Anne was very unhappy in 1 Coxe’s MSS. vol. xliv. ; letter of the * Conduct of the Duchess of Marlborough, duchess of Marlborough to Mr. Hutchinson, This invented employment was parallel, in inedited. Brit. Mus. chronology, with these myste»'ious defalca- Ibid. tions from the income of her mistress. 468 Mary IL [ 1687 . consequence, and sent to her father to lend her the deficient sum. King James walked into the presence of his daughter, on receiving this intel- ligence, so unexpectedly, that Sarah Churchill, and another lady of the princess’s bedchamber (lady Fitzharding), had only just time to shut themselves in a closet. Anne permitted these women to remain there as spies and eavesdroppers, hstening to the confidential communication between her father and herself. The king gently reminded her “ that he had made her a noble allowance, and that he had twice cheerfully paid her debts without one word of remonstrance ; but that now he was con- vinced that she had some one about her for whose sake she plunged her- self into inconveniences. Of these, his paternal affection was willing once more to relieve her, but,” he added, “ that she must observe a more exact economy for the future.” The princess Anne only answered her father with tears. The moment king James departed, out burst the two eavesdroppers from their hiding-place, lady Churchill exclaiming, with her usual coarse vehemence, “ Oh, madam ! all this is owing to that old rascal, your uncle !”^ It is not wise for ladies, whether princesses or otherwise, to suffer their women to call their uncles or fathers “ old ras- cals ” in their hearing. This abused uncle, Lawrence Hyde, was a lord treasurer, of whose honesty the flourishing revenue of a lightly-taxed country bore honourable witness. Devoted to the Anglican church, he would not retain his office when he found that his royal brother-in-law was bent on ignoring the penal laws, and introducing Roman catholics into places of trust. The hatred of his niece and her favourite was not appeased by his resignation of the treasury department. This office, which was the object of lord Sunderland’s desires, and of his pretended conversion to the Roman religion, seemed now within his grasp. But James II. was too good a financier to trust his revenue in the clutches of a known inveterate gambler : he put the treasury into commission, associating lord Sunderland with two other nobles. However ignorant the princess Anne and her favourite were that Sun- derland was working a mine parallel with their own for the king’s ruin, the princess of Orange was well aware of it ; for while he was affecting to be a convert to the church of Rome, and was the prime minister of James II., he was carrying on, by means of his wife, an intriguing cor- respondence with William of Orange. James II. felt uneasy at the proceedings of Dyckvelt, the Dutch envoy in England, which he expressed, in a letter to his daughter Mary, thus : — “ Windsor, May 30, 1687. — I have reason to fear that mynheer Dyck- velt has taken wrong measures of things here, by reason that many, who are not well affected to my person or government, have plied him very hard since he has been here.” ^ The king then recapitulates what he has done for the good of the monarchy and nation in general. Probably 1 other Side of the Question. 2 Birch MS. 4163, folio 44. i^sy.j Writes to archbishop Saner oft. 469 there were some religious topics discussed by James, for there followed, soon after, an extract from Mary’s reply : — “ Hounslardyke, June 17, 1687. “ When you will have me speak as I think, I cannot always he of the same mind your majesty is ; what you do, seems too much to the pre- judice of the church I am of for me to like it.” ^ Letters which did honour to the humanity of both father and daughter followed these. Mary had requested her father to interfere with his mighty power, as ocean-king, to obtain the liberty of the crews of some Dutch fishing-boats taken by the Algerines. In this she was success- ful. The suppression of pirates was a noted feature of her father’s government.^ It is to he feared, that the commencement of the princess of Orange’s correspondence with the illustrious Eachel lady Eussell had not for its object the generous sympathy with her bereavements which that lady deserved from every one, or it would have been offered years before. The following is an extract from its first opening ; it is, indeed, offen- sively condescending. It seems in answer to some admiration for the princess expressed by lady Eussell to Dyckvelt, the Dutch envoy.* The princess of Orange observes that she sends her letter by Mr. Her- bert. “ The Princess of Orange to Eachel Lady Eussell. “ Hounslardyke, July 12, 1687. “ I have all the esteem for you which so good a character deserves, as I have heard given of you by all people, both before I left England and since I have been here ; and have had as much pity as any could have of the sad misfortunes you have had, with much more compassion when they happen to persons who deserve so well.” When James II.’s intention of abolishing the penal laws became appa- rent, the princess of Orange wrote the following letter to Bancroft, arch- bishop of Canterbury : — “ The Princess of Or\nge to Archbishop Bancroft.* “ Loo, October 1, 1687. “ Though I have not the advantage to know you, my lord of Canter- bury, yet the reputation you have makes me resolve not to lose this opportunity of making myself m.ore known to you than I have been yet. Dr. Btanley can assure you that I take more interest in what concerns the church of England than myself, and that one of the greatest satis- factions I can have, is, to hear how all the clergy show themselves as firm to their religion as they have always been to their king, which 1 Birch MS. 4163, folio 44. affair of Captain Kidd * See Dalryraple’s Appendix, regarding the 3 Birch MS. 4163, folio 44. dreadful losses the English suffered from ^ Clarendon Letters. Appendix, piracy, from the years 1689 till the strange 470 Mary II, [1637. makes me hope God will preserve his church, since he has so well pro- vided it with able men. I have nothing more to say, but beg your prayers, and desire you will do me the justice to believe I shall be very glad of any occasion to show the esteem and veneration I have for you. “ Marie. To the archbishop of Canterbury.” At the first receipt of this letter, the heart of the old man warmed towards the writer. Bancroft was suffering under the affliction of seeing his king, the son of his beloved master, an alien from the church of England. Among his papers was found a rough draft of an answer to Mary’s letter, in which, rather in sorrow than in anger, he thus accounts for his royal master’s secession from the Anglican church : — “ It hath seemed good to the Infinite Wisdom, to exercise this poor church with trials of all sorts. But the greatest calamity that ever befell us was, that wicked and ungodly men who murdered the father [Charles I.], likewise drove out the sons, as if it were to say to them, ‘ Go, and serve other gods,’ the effects hereof we feel every moment.” ^ The letter continues with tender and paternal expressions to the princess of Orange, as one who, like Mary in the gospel, “ had chosen the better part.” He speaks of himself “ as an old man sinking under the double burden of age and sorrow;” and he signs himself in the beautiful phraseology of an earlier period, “ her daily orator at the throne of grace.” The extraordinary historical circumstances relating to the princess of Orange and Bancroft archbishop of Canterbury, render every incident which connects their names interesting. It is needful to remark that Bancroft’s mind misgave him, and he never sent the letter he had written; but avoiding confidential discussions, he merely acknow- ledged the honour the princess had done him with expressions of courtesy. The princess of Orange received from her father a letter, dated November 29, 1687, in which he mentions his queen’s situation, with some particulars of her health, adding, as news, “ the death of Mrs. Nelly [Gwynne], and that she had not left the duke of Bt. Albans so much as was believed.” A great increase of zeal for the welfare of the church of England ■was the only symptom shown by the princess of Orange at the receipt of the intelligence regarding her father’s hopes of offspring — an event likely to be subversive of her husband’s ambitious anticipa- tions, in which there cannot exist doubts that she fully participated, notwithstanding all her disclaiming speeches and letters on the sub- ject of her succession. One of these speeches, pertaining, perhaps, to an earlier and better period of her life, is to be found in Burnet’s manu- 1 Clarendon Letters, Appendix, part ii. p. 488. 1 687 - 8 .] Assailed by controversial letters from king James, 471 script. A person having presumed to ask the princess of Oiange, “ If she knew her own mind so far, as to apprehend how she could bear the king her father having a son ?” the princess answered, “ She did not care to talk of these things, lest it might seem an affectation, but she believed she should be very little troubled at it, for in all these things the will of God was to be considered ; and if it were not for doing good to others,” she said, “ for her own particular, it would be better for her to live and die where she was.” ^ 'I'hen commenced some religious controversy between the father and daughter, which, however, was carried on in a moderate manner. The king sent his daughter controversial books by his resident minister, White, from Whitehall, ^February 24, 1688. He wrote to her thus : I pray God to touch your heart, as he did j^our mother’s, who, for many years, was as zealous a Protestant, and as knowing in it, as you can be.” If the king thought that his daughter’s firmness in her reli- gious opinions could be shaken by an appeal to the memory of her dead mother, he was greatly mistaken. Mary was at a tender age when she lost her mother ; there is no evidence, but quite the contrary, that she cherished any loving remembrance for her. King James thus continued his controversial discussions, when writing to his daughter, in his letter of February 28, 1687-8 : “ One of your instructors in religion [Comp- ton, bishop of London] holds several tenets which do not agree with the true doctrine of the church of England. This I was not told, but heard him declare it in the pulpit many years since, in the chapel here at Whitehall, and I took notice of it then to a bishop that stood by me. And I know that several others of the clergy do so also, and lean much more to the presbyterian tenets than they ought to do, and they gene- rally run more and more every day into those opinions than ever they did, and quit their true 'principles This was extraordinary language for the convert of Kome to urge to his daughter, and shows a lingering love for the church of England, the tenets of which he thus allowed were those of a true church. The biographer of Dr. Tillotson ® insists, among the other great merits of that prelate, on his having driven James II., when duke of York, from Whitehall chapel by his controver- sial sermons. Would it not have been a. far higher triumph to have kept him there, by persuading him to remain a true disciple of the church which Tillotson at that time professed ? At the commencement of the year 1688, Dr. Stanley, the almoner of the princess of Orange, wrote, by her desire, this letter to archbishop Bancroft : — 1 Burnet’s MSS, 6584, Harleian, It is a that would perhaps molest his admirers, but very strange fact that an edition of Burnet’s the lovers of truth would be pleased, real history from his own MSS. has not been 2 Additional MSS. 4163, fol. 1. Birch MS. given to the public in these days. It is a ^ ])r Birch, p. cxiv. vul, i. of Works of large folio — a well lx)un(l book, as easy to Tillotson. read as print. There are a few novelties 472 Mary IL [ 1687 - 8 . “Dr. Stanley to the Archbishop of Canterbury.^ “ The Hague, Jan. 24, 1687-8. “ I suppose your grace may have heard that the king hath not been wanting to press his daughter here to be favourable to popery, but lest you should have heard more than is true, I presume to acquaint your lordship with what hath passed, her royal highness being pleased to make me privy to it, and giving me an express leave to communicate it to your grace. Whatever reports have been raised, king James hath scarcely ever either spoken or written to our excellent princess to per- suade her to popery, till last Christmas [1687], when the marquis d’Albeville came hither ; when the king her father sent by him a very long letter written with his own hand, two sheets of paper, containing the motives of his conversion to popery.” The letter mentioned here by Dr. Stanley is still in existence ; ^ it is written in James II.’s best historical style. He gives his daughter the history of his early youth, his strong affection to the Anglican church, as inculcated by his beloved tutor. Dr. Steward ; he mentions the great pain his mother (queen Henrietta) gave him by her persecution of his young brother Gloucester, and the disgrace he was in with her for encouraging Gloucester to remain true to the church of England in its adversity. King James informs his daughter “that he was himself in his youth as zealous as she could be for the church of England, yet no one endeavoured in France to convert him ^ hut a nun, who declared, when she found her labour in vain, that she would pray for him without ceasing.” The rest of this document narrates his reasons for his changes to the church of Rome, which may he spared here ; even Dr. Stanley’s abstract of them we pass by, as containing nothing personal of the daughter Mary herself. One little remark may be permitted, that we gather from James’s narrative, that he changed his religion rather out of contradiction, than from conviction of the superiority of the Roman over the Anglican catholic church ; more from disgust of the polemic railing he heard in the pulpit, than from any other motive. Dr. Stanley, who was at that time almoner at the Hague, thus continues his letter to Sancroft : — “ Our excellent princess seeing this letter, written with the king’s own hand, was resolved to write an answer herself, as the king desired, with- out consulting any of us [her chaplains], that he might see she was very ready to give an account of herself. The very next day, being post-day, she made haste and wrote a letter to king James, of two sheets of paper (which she afterwards read to me), which truly I can without flattery say was the best letter I ever saw.” 1 Clarendon Diary and Letters. endeavour to disturb the religion of her second 2 William III. preserved it, with a great son, was because of his proximity to the many of his uncle’s letters of friendship to throne of Ureat Britain. Her attack on him, in his chest at Kensington. See Dal- young Gloucester’s principles was, that he, Ij^mple’s Appendix, for the whole letter. being a third son, might be provided for in the 3 The reason that queen Henrietta did not Roman church. lbs 7-8.] Mary's succession in danger. 473 The praises Dr. Stanley bestowed on the genius for controversy dis- played by his princess, inspired her with the ambition of having her letter seen and admired by archbishop Bancroft ; and therefore he kindly offered to send him a copy, expressing, withal, his hopes that the arch- bishop would write his commendations of the princess, and secretly send them to Dr. TiKotson, who would forward them to her royal highness ; “ and if your grace,” he adds, “ doth take some notice to her of her car- riage in this affair as I have related it, I believe it will be very acceptable to her.” ^ ISTo doubt it would ; but archbishop Bancroft was not the man who deemed that, by means of secret intrigue, a private letter from the daughter to the father should be blazoned abroad, for however she might have the best of the argument, an ostentatious exposure of the errors of a parent is not the most respectable road to praise. Piety, unalloyed by the leaven of the Pharisee, would have laboured with filial love to induce a change in her unfortunate sire, without parade or can- vassing for admiration. Buch were the feelings of archbishop Bancroft on this subject. Not one word in reply did he send to the Hague, yet, with stern integrity, he relaxed not his steady opposition to the course his sovereign was pursuing. The first day of the year 1688 brought intelligence which roused the princess Anne and her miniature court from exclusive attention to their own petty politics and intrigues, to the apprehension that the reversionary prospect of her wearing, one day, the crown of Great Britain, might be altogether obscured by the birth of an heir-apparent. Thanks ’were offered up in all churches in England that the queen of James II. was enceinte. Every intrigue that had existed between the malcontents of England and Holland forthwith grew livelier ; from that moment the secret correspondence from England, maintained by all sorts and conditions of persons with Mary and her husband, daily increased. There were few persons at the court of James but were playing the parts of spies, with various degrees of treachery. Many of these correspondents were exceedingly bitter against each other; and if Mary of Orange had been a philosophic observer of character, she had curious opportunities for exercising her reflective powers, as the letters she hourly received unveiled the clashing interests and opinions of her correspondents. At the head of this band of her father’s enemies figures her sister, his deeply loved and indulged darling, the princess Anne. A bitter and malicious pen did Anne hold in her youth ; ^ perhaps the spirit of Barah Churchill, her favourite and ruler, inspired her with a portion of its venom : her > Clarendon Letters and Diary ; Appendix, guided by Sarah Churchill. It is probable * The answers of the princess of Orange are that William of Orange preserved the letters not to be found, they can only be guessed by of the princess Anne to his wife, as proofs the tenor of her sister’s epistles ; from them that the slanders regarding the birth of the it may be presumed that they were written unfortunate heir of his uncle did not originate with caution, and couched in more respectable in Holland, language than those of the princess Anne, 474 Mary IL [ 1688 . chief hatred was towards the queen, her step-mother, and next to lady Sunderland. In this series of letters the two sisters had nicknames for their father and his queen, who, in their correspondence, were “ Mansel and Hansel’s wife the prime minister, Sunderland, and his countess, were “ Rogers and Rogers’ wife.” Sunderland and his wife had been fore- most among the secret agents aiding the machinations of William and Mary. Tnis fact was not known to Anne, who indulged her spirit of hostile detraction whenever she mentioned lady Sunderland, and the traits she delineated in various of her epistles of this person, for the information of her sister Mary, form a portrait graphically drawn, and certainly with likeness ; yet the spirit in which the letters are written, creates more abhorrence for the writer than for the subject : — “ The Princess of Denmark to Mary Princess of Orange. “ Cockpit, March 20, 1688. “I can’t end my letter without telling you that lady Sunderland ]')lays the hypocrite more than ever, for she goes to St. Martin’s church morning and afternoon, because there are not people enough to see her at Whitehall chapel, and is half an hour before other people, and half an hour after everybody is gone, at her private devotions.^ She runs from church to church, and keeps up such a clatter with her devotions, that it really turns one’s stomach. Sure there never was a couple so well matched as she and her good husband, for as she is throughout the greatest jade that ever was, so is he the subtlest workingests ^ villain that is on the face of the earth. “ I hope you will instruct Berkley what you would have your friends to do if any okwasion [occasion] should exist, as it is to be feared there will, especially if Mansel [her father] has a son, which I conclude he will, there being so much reason to believe for methinks, if it were not, there having been so many stories and fuss made about it^ On the contrary, when anyone talks of her situation, she looks as if she were afraid we should touch her ; and whenever 1 have happened to be in the room, and she has been undressing, she has always gone in the bedroom These things give me so much sus- picion, that 1 believe, when she is brought to bed, no one will be convinced ’tis her child, unless it prove a daughter ^ Can anything be more utterly absurd than this expression ? particu- larly, as the poor queen had previously brought into the world a son, there could be no possible reason why she should not bear another now. 1 Birch MS. There must have been some language. The reader, who has previously difference in the time of closing of places of perused the Life of Mary Beatrice, will re- worship before the revolution, or lady Sun- member that this was only the revival of tbe deiLind could not have remained so long. injurious reports circulated previously to her ^ So written. She mf^ans, “ the most subtle- last accouchement; but as the infant then working villain.” proved a daughter, no more was heard of the ^ Part of this letter is omitted, on account alleged fraud, of the coarseness and vulgarity of Anne's 475 ] 6 8 8 .] Incendiary corre.^jponden ce. The princess Anne seems to have forgotten that the babe must have been either daughter or son. Probably the “Berkley” whom she mentions in the commencement was her first lady, Barbara Yilliers, who had undertaken a voyage to Holland “ on okwasions ” — to use the droll orthography of her royal highness — that she considered were safer uttei’ed by word of mouth than committed to paper. The princess Anne of Denmark meditated a voyage to Holland. She thus testifies her dis- pleasure at her father’s prohibition of her tour to the Hague : — “ I am denied the satisfaction of seeing you, my dearest sister, this spring, though the king gave me leave when I first asked it. I impute this to lord Sunderland, for the king trusts him with everything, and he, going on so fiercely in the interests of the papists, is afraid you should be told a true character of him. You may remember I have once before ventured to tell you that I thought lord Sunderland a very ill man, and I am more confirmed everyday in that opinion. Everybody knows how often this man turned backwards and forwards in the late king’s time ; and now, to complete all his virtues, he is working with all his might to bring in popery. He is perpetually with the priests, and stirs up the king to do things faster than I believe he would of himself. This worthy lord does not go publicly to mass, but hears it privately in a priest’s chamber. His lady [Sunderland] is as extraordinary in her kind, for she is a flattering, dissembling, false woman ; but she has so fawning and endearing a way, that she will deceive anybody at first, and it is not possible to find out all her ways in a little time. She cares not at what rate she lives, but never pays anybody. She will cheat, though it be for a little. Then she has had her gallants, though, may be, not so many as some ladies here ; and with all these good qualities she is a constant church-woman, so that, to outward appearance, one would take her for a saint ; and to hear her talk, you would think she were a very good Protestant, but she is as much one as the other, for it is certain that her lord does nothing without her. One thing I forgot to tell you about this noble lord, which is, that it is thought if everything does not go here as he would have it, that he will pick a quarrel with the court and so retire, and by that means it is possible he may make his court to you.” By this sentence, Anne plainly shows, she was ignorant that Sunderland’s court was already made to the powers at the Hague. Such was the spirit in which these princesses corresponded. Much have we been forced to suppress, as unfit for family reading, with the remark, that good women would have lost all the regality the world could offer, rather than have held such a correspondence, or become the fosterers of such an intrigue as that against their unfortunate brother. This plot evidently originated in the brain of the princess Anne and her colleagues. It was first broached in the letter before quoted, three months before the hapless infant it disinherited saw the light. In 476 3Iary II. [ 168 8 , another letter, too thoroughly coarse and odious for further quotation, addressed to her sister Mary, and dated from the Cockpit, March, 1688, Anne again affirms, “ that if the expected royal offspring should not ^rove a daughter, she will not believe it to be the queen’s child.” Nearly at the same time, D’Avaux, the French ambassador to the States of Holland, wrote to his court, “ that if the queen of James IT. was put to bed of a son, the prince of Orange was resolved to attempt to seize the British crown ; for he was sure that the Calvinists in England would not permit any prince of Wales to supersede the rights of his wife.” The people of Great Britain were perfectly right solemnly to refuse to acknowledge a successor who was not to be educated in the established religion : their determination, simply and firmly expressed, without false witness or calumny, would have been sufficient. The people in reality acted thus, and acted well : the falsehood and calumny did not originate with them, but with the two daughters and the nephew of James II. And, in the face of the odious documents these filial foes have left, how can we call their evil good ? Anne, meantime, insinuates to her sister, that her life would be in danger from her father if she visited England. The undeviating indul- gence and personal kindness of this most unfortunate father to these daughters have been shown by a series of facts. It was a part of his lot, which, as he has declared in his memoirs, he felt to be peculiarly bitter, that his children, who ought to have compared his conduct to them from their youth upwards, could accuse him of either intending to destroy them, or of meaning to supplant them by the imposture of pre- tended offspring. Here are the words of Anne : — “ There is one thing about yourself that I cannot help giving my opinion in; which is, that if king James should desire you and the prince of Orange to come over to make him a visit, I think it would be better (if you can make any handsome excuse) not to do it ; for though I dare swear the king could have no thought against either of you, yet, since people can say one thing and do another, one cannot help being afraid. If either of you should come, I should be very glad to see you ; but, really, if you or the prince should come, I shoidd he frightened out of my wits, for fear any harm should happen to either of youP After this incendiary missive,^ the correspondence was interrupted for a short time by an illness of the princess Anne. Her father was greatly- alarmed, and rose early to visit her on the morning of April the 16th, 1688. Her uncle, lord Clarendon, had been roused at four in the morning with the tidings of her danger ; he hurried to the Cockpit to see her, and 1 Anne, who was acting the part of the cat conference between the unfortunate monarch in the fable, had reason to dread that a per- and his eldest daughter would, in all proba- sonal interview should take place between the bility, hare averted his fall. The possibility parent she was slandering and her sister of Mary seeing the queen in her present Mary One hour of unrestrained personal situation was also dreaded by Anne. lb 8 8.] Incendiary correspondence, 477 found the anxious father sitting by her bedside. Could he have had one glance at the calumnies which were going to Holland every post from that very daughter, what would have been his reflections on the con- trast in the affections of the father with that of the child ? It does not appear that James II. ever resorted to the same means of reading private letters which we have seen practised by the prince of Orange. The Stuarts were weak enough to deem that similar proceedings were incon- sistent with the honour of gentlemen. Doubts have been raised regarding prince George of Denmark’s reli- gion, but wrongfully, for father Petre uses this expression concerning him, in a letter to pere la Chaise : — “ He is a prince with whom I cannot discourse of religion. Luther was never more in earnest than prince George. It is for this reason that king James, who loves not to be denied, never has pressed him in that matter.” From the same letter the following curious anecdote is derived. “ All the king’s priests and Jesuits one day combined together, to induce king James to confer with his daughter Anne about religion, saying, ‘ How would any one be of their faith, when the heirs were Protestants ?’ The king requested them to leave his daughters to him, and to mind their own concerns.” The princess went, on her recovery, to visit her father at his palace of Eichmond, from whence she vented her hatred to her unfortunate step-mother in the following letter : — “ The Princess Anne to the Princess of Orange.^ “ Eichmond, 9th May, 1688. “ The queen, you must know, is of a very proud and haughty humour, and though she pretends to hate all form and ceremony, one sees that those who make their court that way are very well thought of. She declares, always, that she loves sincerity and hates flattery ; but when the grossest flattery in the world is said to her face, she seems exceed- ingly well pleased with it. It really is enough to turn one’s stomach to hear what things are said to her of that kind, and to see how mightily she is satisfled with it. All these things lady Sunderland has in per- fection, to make her court to her : she is now much oftener with the queen than she used to be. It is a sad, and a very uneasy thing, to be forced to live civilly, and as it were freely, with a woman that every one knows hates one, and does all she can to undo everybody, which she [lady Sunderland] certainly does. One thing I must say of the queen, which is, that she is the most hated in the world of all sorts of people ; for everybody believes that she presses the king to be more violent than he would be himself, which is not unlikely, for she is a very great bigot in her way. All ladies of quality say she is so proud, that they don’t care to come oftener than they needs must, just out of mere duty ; and» i Dalrymple’s Appendix, p. 174. 478 Mary II, [ 1688 . indeed, she has not so great court as she used to have. She pretends to have a great deal of kindness for me ; but I doubt it is not real, for I never see proofs of it, hut rather the contrary,” The gossip of that day circulated a story that the queen, as she sat at her toilet with the princess Anne, had, on some dispute between them, tossed her glove in the princess’s face.^ This tale, if true, would never have been omitted by Anne in her correspondence, were it only to justify the hatred she virulently expresses against her hapless step- mother, whose manner to her, she is obliged to own, expresses not only politeness, “ but a great deal of kindness.” Now, tossing a glove in a person’s face is not consistent with either politeness or kindness ; nor does the princess Anne attempt any excuse for her envenomed hatred, excepting her own suspicions that the queen’s affection was not real, together with her envy of the flatteries and distinctions of royalty with which she was surrounded. At the conclusion of this letter, the princess Anne repeated her expectations that her father would attack her reli- gious principles, which he certainly never did, even when she was a child. However, she says that she supposes the persecution would begin when her husband, prince George, went to visit the court of Denmark that summer. The arrangement between the princesses of Orange and Den- mark was, that prince George was to escort the latter to the Hague, where she was to stay on a visit till his return from his own country.^ This plan was entirely forbidden by James II., and Anne, in the course of her correspondence, often expressed her anger at the prohibition. It is difiScult to divine Anne’s reasons for desiring to leave England at this crisis, unless she intended to make the same political use of her absence, which she afterwards did when she insisted on going to Bath previously to the accouchement of the queen, to avoid being a witness of her brother’s birth. Had the visit been permitted, lady Churchill, who ruled the princess Anne, would have been her companion, and it would have been utterly impossible for her to have restrained her propensity at the court of the princess of Orange to disseminate strife, and quarrel with all around her. It may be guessed what would have been the result had the king allowed his daughter Anne to visit her sister at the Hague. The princess of Orange, in a letter which is not forthcoming, had ventured to express to her sister disgust and distrust of the manners and disposition of her favourite, which was answered in the following terms : — “ March, 1688. “ Sorry people have taken such pains to give so ill a character of. [lady] Churchill : I believe there is nobody in the world has better notions of religion than she has. It is true she is not so strict as some 1 Lediard’s Life of Marlborough. 2 Barillon’s Despatches March, 1C88. i688.] Condescending letter to lady Churchill, 479 are, nor does she keep such a hustle with religion ; which I confess 1 think is never the worse, for one sees so many saints mere devils, that it one be a good Christian, the less show one makes the better in my opinion. Then, as for moral principles, ’tis impossible to have better, and without that, all that lifting up of the hands and eyes, and often going to church, will prove but a very lame devotion. One thing more 1 must say for her, which is, that she has a true sense of the doctrine of our church, and abhors all the principles of the chinch of Rome; so, as to this particular, I assure you she will never change. The same thing 1 will venture, now I am on this subject, to say for her lord ; for though he is a very faithful servant to king James, and the king is very kind to him, and I believe he will always obey the king in all things that are consistent with religion, yet rather than change that, I dare say he will lose all his places, and everything that he has. The king once talked to her upon religion, upon occasion of her talking to some lady, or looking another way, when a priest said grace at the king’s table.” This defence is indisputably written in lady Churchill’s own bold style. The princess of Orange found from it that she had committed a mistake by expressing her opinion of that favourite, whom she after- wards sought to propitiate by the following soothing billet : — “ The Princess of Orange to Lady Churchill.^ “ Dr. Stanley going to England is too good an opportunity for me to lose, of assuring lady Churchill she cannot give me greater satisfac- tion than in letting me know the firm resolution both lord Churchill and you have taken never to be wanting in what you owe to your religion. Such a generous resolution, I am sure, must make you deserve the esteem of all good people, and my sister’s in particular, I need say nothing of mine : you have it upon a double account as my sister’s friend, besides what 1 have said already, and you may be assured that I shall always be glad of an occasion to show it both to your lord and you. “ I have nothing more to add ; for your friendship makes my sister as dear to you as to me, and I am persuaded we shall ever agree in our care of her, as I believe she and I should in our kindness for you, were we near enough to renew our acquaintance. “ Marie.” The efforts of Mary, nevertheless, were vain to palliate the political blunder she had committed by her first genuine expression of aversion, which had assuredly been communicated by Anne to its object. All these caresses and hints of future kindness when near enough, only effected an alliance between the house of Orange and that of Churchill for a few important months : — Dalrymple’s Appendix 480 Mary II. [1688. “ The Princess of Orange to Lady Churchill. [No date.] “ If it were as easy for me to write to my lady Churchill as it is hard to find a safe hand, she might justly wonder at my long silence, but I hope she does me more justice than to think it my fault. I have little to say at present, but that I hope my sister and you will never part. I send you here one [letter] for her, and have not any more time now, than only to assure you that I shall never forget the kindness you showed to her who is so dear to me. That, and all the good I have heard of you, will make me ever your affectionate friend, which I shall be ready to show otherwise than by words when I have the opportunity. “ Marie.” “ The letters of Anne at last announced to her sister in Holland, that an unfortunate brother had made his entrance into a world which proved so very adverse to him. This event, calamitous to himself, to his country, and to his father and mother, took place on Trinity Sunday morning, June 10, 1688.^ The princess Anne had betaken herself to Bath on pretence of her situation needing the waters, in order that she might not be present at the queen’s accouchement ; nevertheless, she wrote to her sister in the following strain. She had arrived in London from Bath, with prince George, on the 15th of June, and the prince sailed for Den- mark two days afterwards. “ The Cockpit, June 18, 1688. “ My dear sister can’t imagine the concern and vexation I have been in, that I should be so unfortunate to be out of town when the queen was brought to bed, for I shall never now be satisfied whether the child be true or false. It may be it is our brother, but God knows ” Anne’s vacillation between her own interest and her conscience is visible throughout the composition of this epistle. She continues : — “ After all this, ’tis possible it may he her child [the queen’s], but where one believes it, a thousand do not. For my part, except they do give very plain demonstrations (which ’tis almost impossible noio), I shall ever be of the number of the unbelievers. I don’t find that people are at all disheartened, but seem all of a mind, which is a very comfortable thing at such a time as this.^^ Thus the princess Anne affirms of herself, that she found it “ a very comfortable thing ” for everybody to believe that her father, from whom she had never received an angry word, could be guilty of the crime of imposing a spurious heir not only on his country, but on himselt and his family. When the crown coveted by Anne had been burning on her brow for a few years, her ideas of the comforts arising from • See the Life of Mary Beatrice of Modena. 481 i688.] The unwelcome brother, gratified ambition were different, to which the details of her physician, Dr. Arbuthnot, bear melancholy witness. Part of the time of her hus- band’s absence in Denmark, which lasted till October, was passed by Anne in visits to her father, for her letters are dated from Windsor or Richmond-palace. In one of these she says : — “ Though we agree in matters of religion, yet T can’t help fearing that 3 ^ou are not of my opinion in other matters, because you have never answered me to anything that I have said of Eoger [lord Sunderland], nor of Hansel’s [her father’s] wife ?” ^ It is not difficult to gather from this last epistle, that Mary had exercised a certain degree of caution in noticing the scandalous insinua- tions of Anne, who nevertheless proceeded in the same strain, and in the next letter outwardly exults in the expected demise of her un- welcome little brother in these words. It may be noticed, that in her glee at this anticipation she calls him by his title — a sui’e proof of the private conviction of her own heart, for the expectation of his death did not alter the fact of the imposture, supposing such had really taken place : — “ The Cockpit, July 9, 1688.^ “ The prince of Wales has been ill these three or four days ; and if he has been so bad as people say, I believe it will not be long before he is an angel in heaven.” At last, the princess of Orange responded to the principal subject of her sister’s letters, by sending to her a string of queries relative to the birth of the prince of Wales, couched in language inadmissible here. They were answered in the same style by the princess Anne, who prefaced and ended her answers with the following epistle : — “ The Princess Anne of Denmark to the Princess of Orange.^ “ The Cockpit, July 24, 1688. “ I received yesterday yours of the 19th, by which I find you are not satisfied with the account I have given you in my last letter ; but I hope you will forgive me for being no more particular, when you consider that not being upon the place, all I could know must be from others, and having then been but a few days in town, I had not time to inquire so narrowly into things, as I have since. But, before I say any more, I can’t help telling you I am very sorry you should think I would be negligent in letting you know things of any consequence ; for though I am generally lazy, and it is true, indeed, when I write by post, for the most part I make those letters very short, not daring to tell you any news by it, and being very ill at invention, yet I hope you will forgive my being lazy when I write such letters, since I have never missed any opportunity of giving you all the intelligence I am able ; and prav 2 Ibid., p, 304. • Dalrymple’s Appendix. V()L. V. 3 Ibid. p. 308 2 I 482 Mary II. [1688. be not so unjust to believe I can think the doing anything you can de- sire any trouble, for, certainly, I would do a great deal more for you, if it lay in my power, than the answering your questions, which I shall now do as exactly as you desire,” These answers to technical questions are rendered disgusting by Anne’s irreclaimable vulgarity. Occasionally she betrayed, uncon- sciously, her actual belief in the identity of her unfortunate brother, and the same conviction must have occurred to the clearer brain of the princess of Orange. Nothing that the privy council afterwards received as evidence could bring stronger testimony of that truth, than the queries and replies of these sisters. Anne, after finishing her answers, concludes her epistle in these words : — “ I have done my endeavour to inform myself of everything, for I have spoke with Mrs. Dawson, and asked her all the questions I could think of (for not being in the room when the queen was brought to bed, one must inquire of somebody that was there), and I thought she could tell me as much as anybody, and would be less likely to speak of it. And 1 took all the care I could, when I spoke to her, to do it in such a manner that I might know everything, and in case she should betray me, that the king and queen should not be angry with me.” Mrs. Dawson was an elderly lady, of the established religion. She belonged to the royal household, and had been present with Anne Hyde, duchess of York, when both the princesses Mary and Anne were bora. At a subsequent period, she more solemnly attested to Anne that the prince of Wales was as much the son of the queen, as she was the daughter of the duchess of York. Her conversation with Anne at this juncture had again awakened qualms of conscience in the bosom of that princess, for she concludes her letter with the following admission : — “ All she [Mrs. Dawson] says seems wonderfully clear ; but one does not know what to think, for methinks it is wonderful, if it is no cheat, that they never took pains to convince me of it. I hope I have answered your letter as fully as you desire ; if there be anything else you would know, pray tell me by the first safe hand, and you shall always find me very diligent in obeying you, and showing, by my actions, how rt;al and sincere my kindness is.” Nothing could be more embarrassing to a mind predetermined as that of the princess of Orange to view the birth of her unwelcome brother with hostility, than the tender and friendly letters she received from home by every post, written either by her father or his queen. She had been given no feasible reason for resentment, and it w^as difficult to repulse the tone of family affection which had been accustomed to greet her with little billets of remembrance. The unfortunate consort of her father employed her first convalescence in writing to her, addressing her 1688.] Prayers for her brother omitted at the Hague, 483 billet to “ her dear Lemon.” ' It will be remembered, that this was a fond name invented at St. James’s when the princess married, in contradistinction to that of Orange. How utterly unconscious the queen must have been of the detestable correspondence regarding her- self and her son then passing between her step-daughters, the use of this little endearment shows. Again the princess received a letter,^ difficult to answer, for the tone was that of tender remonstrance. A grand fete, with fireworks, had been given to the resident ministers at the Hague by the British legation, in order to celebrate the birth of the prince of Wales. The maids of the princess of Orange had been invited guests ; these ladies were not content with refusing to come, but they manifested great anger, and reviled the inviter.^ Moreover, it was observed that the prince of Wales had not constantly the benefit of the prayers of his sister in her English chapel : sometimes he was prayed for, and sometimes, as her father observes, quite omitted. When her father heard of this neglect, he wrote a letter of remonstrance,^ in which he asked his daughter the difficult question of “ what offence had been given?” Her answer is preserved among her father’s papers. It will be noticed, that she had somewhat lost her English orthography ; — “ The Princess of Orange to James II. “ Sir, “ Hague, August 17, 1688. “ Being to go to Loo next Thursday, if it please God, I am come to this place [Hague] to go bake at night. Last Thursday I received your majesty’s of the 31st July, by which I see you had heard that the prince of Wales was no more prayed for in my chapell ; but long before this, you will know, that it had onely bin sometimes forgot. M. d’Albe- ville can assure you I never told him it was forbid, so that they ivear only conjectures made upon its being sometimes neglected ; but he can tell, as I find your majesty already knows, that he [the prince of Wales] was prayed for heer long before it was done in England. “ This excessive hot wether continues longer than I ever knew it, which I shall find sufficiently in my journey ; I have nothing more to add at present, than only to beg your majesty to believe, wherever I am, 1 shall still be your majesty’s most obedient daughter and servant, “ Marie.” Another letter of remonstrancei was received by the princess of Orange from her father’s consort, who anxiously required from her step-daughter expressions of sisterly love towards the new-born infant.® The corre- 1 Historical Letters, edited by Sir H. Ellis ; were sent to the States of Holland, and not first series, vol. iii. to the prince of Orange, who was but the state 2 Ibid. For the letters, see Life of Mary magistrate. Beatrice. Birch MS. There are only a few wordi 3 Ambassades of D’Avaux : vol. vi. p. 333. from thit? letter extract'd by Birch. It must be recollected that all ambassadors * See the letter. Life o: Mary Beatrice, 2 I 484 Mary IL [ibss. spondence continued between the princess of Orange and the queen until the landing of William. There is reason to suppose that the practice of toleration of different sects was nearly the same in the year 1688, as it is at the present time, since the princess Anne thus writes to her sister : — “ It is a melancholy prospect that all we of the church of England have. All sectaries may now do as they please. Everyone has the free exercise of their religion, on purpose, no doubt, to ruin us, which I think, to all im- partial judges, is very plain. For my part, I expect every moment to be spoke to about my religion, and "»vonder very much I have heard nothing of it yet.” Anne vainly awaited some persecution from her father. She reiterates this expectation so often, that she must have been disappointed that it never came. She paid a visit to her father at Windsor-castle during her husband’s absence in Denmark, and writes thus to her sister : — “ Windsor, August 18, 1688. “ I am in as great expectation of being tormented as ever, for I never can believe that Mansel [the king her father] would go on so violently, if he had not some hopes that in time he may gain either you or me.” For the first time, some cause of alarm seemed to exist, since, while she was alone at Windsor with the king her father, he introduced the pope’s legate to her when the queen was holding a grand drawing- room at the castle.^ Nothing further came of this presentation than fright. The princess attended sermons three times in St. George’s chapel that day, as a security against the insidious attacks of the newlj^ arrived legate, whom her father had madly invited, or rather forced,^ into his dominions. During the period Bancroft and the other six pre- lates were incarcerated in the Tower, the princess of Orange had tried another epistle, by the pen of Dr. Stanley, from Hounslardyke, where her court was, to inform him of the exultation with which his firm resistance to the Koman catholic king’s behests was viewed. “ All men,” wrote Dr. Stanley, “ that love the Reformation, do rejoice in it, and thank God for it. But, especially, our excellent prince and princess were well pleased with it ; they have both given me a com- mand, in their names, to return your grace their hearty thanks for it, and at the same time to express their real concern for your grace and all your brethren, and for the good cause ^in which your grace is engaged; and your refusing to comply with the king [James II.] is by no means looked upon by them as tending to disparage the monarchy.” 1 Bishop Cartwright’s l)iary ; published by was apprehensive of showing symptoms of the Camden Society. friendship to any sovereign not banded in 2 The pope was himself an ally of the the league against France, which was un- prince of Orange, as the emperor’s general accountably called “The Protestant League,” against Louis XIV., and therefore was ex- although Spain, Austria, and the pope wer« tremely unwilling to send the legate, as he engaged in it. i688.] King James calls attention to her portrait, 485 No response did all these notes of exultation elicit from the venerable patriarch of the Anglican church. Bowed down with sorrow, mourning over the wounds that beloved church was receiving through the apostacy of the king, whose duty it was to protect her, he anticipated no very great amelioration of them from a foreigner, whose belief vibrated be- tween deism and predestinarianism. No flattery could obtain from Ban- croft one murmur, one factious complaint. His were companions in his late imprisonment, spirits worthy of communion with his own. One was Dr. Ken, the late almoner of the princess ot Orange, bishop of Bath and Wells. It must have been from him that Bancroft derived his deep distrust of the motives of the prince and princess of Orange, for Ken had been domesticated with the prince, had been witness of his immoral private life, and his bad influence over his wife. The incarcerated prelates of the church of England had been triumphantly acquitted by a jury at Westminster-hall, and subse- quently released. King James, by his secession to the Roman ritual, had deprived himself of the active loyalty of the Anglicans, and had given his best subjects no other alternative than that of standing mournfully neuter to witness the completion of his ruin, although nothing could induce them, either from motives of revenge or interest, to hasten it. That ruin now came on with fearful velocity, accelerated by his own trusted and beloved children. There was little need for either the prince or princess of Orange, or the princess Anne, to have disgraced themselves by the course they took; the natural tide of events must have led to the results which occurred. The people had looked anxiously towards her whom they long considered as the heiress of their throne — a resemblance was even fancied between her person and that of queen Elizabeth ; and this popular notion perhaps prompted the reply of Edmund Waller to James II., when the king gave the veteran poet and statesman an audience in his private cabinet. “How do you like that portrait of my eldest daughter?” asked the father, drawing Waller’s attention to a fine half-length of Maiy, just opposite to his chair. “ My eyes are dim,” replied Waller ; “ but if that is the princess of Orange, she bears some resemblance to the greatest woman the world ever saw.” The king asked who he meant, and testified some surprise when Waller answered “queen Elizabeth.” — “Bhe had great ministers,” drily observed the king. “ And when did your majesty ever know a fool choose wise ones?” rejoined Waller, impressively. Yet the great-grandson of Mary queen of Boots might have been excused for not joining very cordially in the praises of queen Elizabeth. This anecdote, for some reason, although it contains proof of his paternal feelings for his daughter, has been related to his injury and to her advantage. The picture referred to in the anecdote was that which now nresents itself on the left hand 486 Mary II. [ibss. at entering the royal suite at Hampton- court. The lightness of the complexion and hair, and the sharpness of the lower part of the face, give a shade of family likeness to queen Elizabeth ; but there is another portrait, a half-length, over the door of the royal closet, which is a better resemblance of the princess herself. Both are by Wissing. He was, although a Dutchman, not employed by William of Orange, but by James 11. The father, who had not seen his beloved Mary for some years, desired to have a resemblance of her after he was king. For this purpose he sent Wissing, and gave him a commission to paint portraits of his daughter and his son-in-law, and bring them back to England with him. The two portraits of Mary, which are nearly duplicates in design, were joainted on this occasion ; one was left in Holland, and the other found at Hampton-court when the undutiful original took pos- session of all her father’s personal property. There is likewise an equestrian portrait of William HI., which must have deceived all his young romantic partisans in England, who named the Orange pair, from Wissing's portraits, “ Ormanzor and Phenixiana.” William appears in the proportions of a hero of seven feet in height, instead of a small man two feet shorter. James II. was amused at this flattery of his Dutch painter, but it had its effect in England. How occurs a curious link in Mary’s transition from a loving and loyal daughter to a treacherous instrument in William’s plot for her father’s deposition. Her royal highness learned to write with her left hand ! which caused such difference in her usual holographs, that even if her father had seized one of her letters, he would have forsworn the writing as not by his Mary! There was certainly moral justice in fact that the teacher of such incendiary skill was the woman he had corrupted and perjured himself for, the same lady Bellasyse who was imposed on his pure and innocent wife as one of her ladies, had ample opportunities of wounding him to the quick, and she took them. Mary Princess of Orange to Lady Bellasyse. “ Loo. “Mr. Kussell has said so much to me of you, my lady Bellasyse, that I could not refuse to write to you by him, though I have a sore eye. I think it is not necessary our correspondence should be knowm ; but that I leave to your discretion, as well as the way to send your letters.” Without yearly dates, but certainly to be dated by the change in Mary’s heart, after the birth of the unfortunate heir, when so many of James H.’s enemies retired to Holland, this correspondence, which the laughter proposed should be secret, proceeded — the spy in the bed- chamber writing with her deceitful left hand, and earnestly advising “ Mary the daughter ” to follow her example. An apt pupil she had i688.J Treacherous left-hand correspondence. 487 as proved herewith in a note written from Hounslardyke, June 24 (1688?) I pitty you very much now Mr. Fortree ^ is at Ostend ; but the comfortable peace wull quickly send him home agin to you. You might very well have expected a letter from me before now in answer to your letter of your left hand ; but because I could not answer it in the same maner, I did resolve to stay till I was parfait in it ; but though I am not yet, I woud nott stay longer, but send you word that I had done as you desired, as you shall allways find me your very affectionate friend, Marie.’^ In the reign of James 11., public opinion spoke at convivial meetings in quaint rhymes, called toasts, which were sung at the time when healths were drunk. “I know not,” writes one of the court gossips to lady Kachel Russell, afterwards duchess of Devonshire, “ whether you have heard a health [toast] that goes about, which is new to me ju jt now, so I send it you ^ — Toast “ The king God bless, And each princess ; The church no less, Which we profess As did queen Bess.’* The princess Anne arrived from Tunbridge, September 18, at Wind- sor-castle. The same day, king James travelled to London in company with the prince and princess. As the former was invited to accompany the king to Chatham, surprise was excited that Anne tarried not at Windsor, as she usually did, to bear the queen comi)any, who was left alone. It was said that she had, on her arrival, met with a cold recep- tion from the queen, who had heard that she held too close a corre- spondence with the court at the Hague.® A few days after, her uncle, lord Clarendon, attended her lev^e, and found her in her bedchamber, with only one of her dressers, completing her toilet. The reports of the projected invasion from Holland were agitating all London. Anxious thoughts regarding the welfare of his royal master weighed heavily on the loyal heart of Clarendon, and he earnestly wished to awaken a like interest in his niece : “ She asked me,” he writes, “ ‘ Why I did not come to her as often as I used to do ?' 1 answered, that ‘ Her royal highness had not been long in town ; but that, wherever I was, I should be ready to wait upon her.’ She then told me ‘ that she had found the king much agitated about the preparations which were making in Holland.* I said, ‘ I was out of all manner of business, and, truly, tliat I heard nothing but common rumours.’” The princess then ex- ^ She means Mr. Fortrey, the second husband of lady Bellasyse. 2 Devonshire MSS., papers copied at Cniswick. * Lamberty, voi. i. p. 298. 488 Mary IL [ibss. pressed her detestation of lord and lady Sunderland ; upon which her uncle ohserv^ed, “ that he was much surprised to find her royal highness in that mind towards lady Sunderland, in whom all the world thought she took the kindest concern ; and,” added he, “ may I presume to ask what is the matter between ye?” — “I think her the worst woman in the world,” responded the princess Anne. A pause ensued, which was broken by lord Clarendon saying, “ I wish your royal highness had not heretofore thought so well of her, but I am certain that you had a just caution given you of her.” Thus the revilings in which the princess ever indulged when the name of lady Sunderland occurred to her in writing or conversation, had been preceded by a close intimacy, against which her uncle had vainly warned her. The princess did not like the last reminiscence, and looked at her watch, a huge appendage, almost as large as a time-piece, such as ladies then wore, oa which her uncle with- drew. “ What can this mean ?” he wrote ; “ she seems to have a mind to say something, and yet is upon a reserve.” ^ The next day, lord Clarendon attended at Whiteh all-palace the levee of her father, who expressed his certainty of the invasion by his son-in- law. “ In the afternoon,” he continues, “ I waited again on the princess Anne.^ I told her what had passed between the king and me. She answered, very drily, ‘ I know nothing but what the prince my hus- band tells me he hears from the king.’ ” In the course of a few days, her uncle made a positive appeal to her feelings as a daughter, think- ing that, as she was so infinitely beloved by James II., she might suc- cessfully warn him of his danger.^ Anne mentioned “ that the king had received an express, which declared that all the Dutch troops were embarked, and that the prince of Orange was to embark on Monday next, and that lord Shrewsbury, lord Wiltshire, and Henry Sidney were with them she added, “ that the king her father seemed much dis- turbed, and very melancholy.” — “ I took the liberty to say,” proceeds lord Clarendon, that “ it was pity nobody would take this opportunity of speaking honestly to the king ; and that I humbly thought it would be very proper for her royal highness to say something to him, and beg him to confer with some of his old friends, who had al ways served him faithfully.” — “ I never speak to the king on business,” was the answer of the princess Anne. Her uncle replied, that ‘‘ Her father could not but take it well to see her royal highness concerne for him ; that it might produce some good effect, and no ill could possibly come of it. But,” continues he, “ the more I pressed her, the more reserved she became.” At last she said that “she must dress herself, for it was almost prayer-time.” ^ The daughter then went forth to pray, and Clarendon, grieved by the uselessness of his attempt to awaken her filial feelings, retired with a heavy hejirt. 1 Claieudon Diary. 2 ibid. 3 ibid. * Ibid. i688.1 Anne shocks and disgusts her uncle, 489 The obtuse mind of Anne was nevertheless assailed by many more awakening efforts of her uncle. Yet it was more than a fortnight before he could obtain another conference with her. He visited her, however, in the evening of October 10, when she made an observation regarding the evident anguish her father suffered. Lord Clarendon told her “ that it was her duty to speak freely to the king, which would be a comfort to him.” To this the princess made no reply. Clarendon soon after attended the royal lev^e at Whitehall. There king James told him the news, that the prince of Orange had embarked with all the Dutch troops, and would sail with the first favourable wind. “ I have nothing,” added the unfor- tunate father, “ by this day’s post from my daughter the princess of Orange, and it is the first time I have missed hearing from her for a long time.” ^ He never heard from her again. Lord Clarendon almost forced an interview with his niece Anne. “ I told her,” he writes in his journal, “most of what the king had said. I earnestly pressed her to speak to him. I entreated her to be the means of prevailing on him to hear some of his faithful old friends; but,” he bitterly adds, “she would do nothing !” Just at this time were reports that the Dutch expedition was scattered and injured by heavy October gales. James II. ordered the examination to take place before his privy council relative to the birth of the prince of Wales. Lord Clarendon, as the uncle of the princesses whose claims to the British throne were apparently superseded by the birth of their brother, was requested to be present at the depositions taken by the numerous witnesses on oath.^ The princess, his niece, was at her levee when, on the morning of the 23rd of October, her maternal uncle honestly came to tell her his opinion of the identity of her brother — simple man ! — hoping to satisfy and relieve her mind. He had not had the benefit of perusing her private sentiments on the subject as our readers have done; he knew not that a letter written by her hand then existed, declaring “ that she thought it a comfort that all people in England asserted that the infant prince, her brother, was an impostor.” The princess was dressing for prayers, all her women were about her, and they and their mistress were loud in mirth and jest when lord Clarendon added himselt to the group at the toilet. The princess at once plunged boldly and publicly into the discussion. “Fine discourse,” she exclaimed,^ “you heard at council yesterday ;” and then she made herself very merry with the whole affair, laughing loud and long ; and as her dressing proceeded her women threw in their jests. Her uncle was scandalized and dis- gusted by the scene. “ I was,” he says, “ amazed at her behaviour, but I thought it unfit to say anything then. I whispered to her royal high- ness, to request that she would give me leave to speak with her in private. 1 Clarendon Diary, toI. ii. p. 194. ^ See the Life of Mary Beatrice of Modena. 3 Clarendon Diary, vol. ii. p. 196. 490 Mary II. [i688, ‘ It grows late,’ replied the princess, ‘ and I must hasten to prayers ; but you can come at any time, except this afternoon.’ So I went home. In the evening my brother Lawrence was with me. I told him all concern- ing the princess Anne. I begged him to go and talk to her. ‘ It will signify nothing,^ emphatically replied the other uncle of the princess. The wish of lord Clarendon, in seeking these interviews with his niece, was to awaken her filial affection to a sense of her father’s danger ; and if he could effect this, he meant to induce her to become the mediatrix between his majesty and his loyal people for the security of the church of England, obtaining at the same time a guarantee that her infant brother should be brought up in that faith. Clarendon dreaded as much danger to that beloved church from the dissenting prince who aspired to be its head, as from the Roman catholic head then in authority. James was injuring the church by storm; William — whom he well knew— would proceed by sap : one wounded, the other would paralyse. In the afternoon, lord Clarendon paid another visit to the princess, his niece. ^ I fancy,” he remarks, in his journal, “ that she has no mind to talk to me.” Anne certainly anticipated the reproof her uncle was resolved to administer for her odious conduct at his former visit. Lord Clarendon asked her, “ If she had received any letters from the princess of Orange ?” — “ No,” said the princess, “ I have not had any for a long while and added, “ that her sister never wrote to her of any of these matters.” How falsely she spoke, her uncle could not tell so well as the readers of her previous letters. Lord Clarendon visited the princess two days later. She was dressing, but as lady Churchill was present, he resolved to delay the admonition he was waiting for a suitable opportunity to administer. Two days after, he found her at home. “ She came,” he says, “ out of her closet very quickly, and told me that she was sorry she had disappointed me so often when I desired to speak to her, and she now wished to know what I had to say?” “ I told her,” continues her uncle, “that I was extremely surprised and shocked the other day, to find her royal highness speak so slightingly regarding her family affairs, and, above all, to suffer her women to break their unseemly jests regarding the birth of her brother.” The princess replied, “ Sure ! you cannot but hear the com- mon rumours concerning him?” — “I do hear very strange rumours, indeed,” said her uncle, “ as every one must do who lives publicly in the world ; but there is no colour for these.” — “ I will not say that I believe them,” replied the princess; “but I needs must say, that the queen’s behaviour was very odd ” — and here Anne, although a young woman, and speaking to a man, used expressions of that vulgar coarseness, of which no examples are to be found like hers, either from the lips or pen of a British princess, even in the ages of semi-barbarism.^ “ Possibly,” 1 Diary of Henry earl of Clarendon. i688.J Earnest remonstrances of Clarendon to Anne, 491 replied Clarendon, “ the queen did not know the reports.” — ‘‘ I am sure,” answered the princess Anne, “ the king knew of them ; for, as he has been sitting by me in my own chamber, he would speak of the idle stories that were given out of the queen not being likely to have a child, laughing at them ; therefore I cannot but wonder that there was no more care taken to satisfy the world.” This speech proves that James II. spent his time occasionally sitting by his daughter’s side, and conversing familiarly with her. Clarendon asked, “ If her royal highness had, upon those occasions, said anything to the king her father ?” The princess Anne owned “that she had not.” — “ Then,” said her uncle, “your father might very well think that you minded the reports no more than he did, since you said nothing to him, even when he gave you opportunities ; when, in my humble opinion, if you had felt the least dissatisfaction, you ought to have discovered it for the public good, as well as for your own sake, and that of the princess of Orange.” — “ If I had said anything to the king,” replied the princess Anne, “he might have been angry, and then God knows what might have happened.” — “If you had no mind to have spoken to the king yourself,” observed her uncle, “ you have friends, who would have managed to serve you without prejudice to you. And remember,” continued the stern loyalist, “ this is the first time you have said anything to me, although I have given you occasion to open your mind, by urging your speaking to the king your father since these alarms of invasion.” He concluded by begging the princess “ to consider the miseries which might be entailed upon these kingdoms, even in case that God might bless the king her father with more sons.” And he requested her “ to do something which might publicly prove her satisfaction that her brother was no spurious child.” To all this, she made no answer. It was not indeed a very palatable suggestion to the princess Anne, which bade her look forward to a succession of brothers, considering the infinity of pains she had taken to invalidate the birth of the only one in existence. The next day, the king ordered his whole privy council to wait upon his daughter, the princess Anne, witn copies of the depositions concern- ing the birth of the prince of Wales. In the evening they brought them to her in state. Upon receiving the depositions from the lords of the privy council, the princess replied, “My lords, this was not necessary; for I have so much duty for the king, that his word is more to me than all these depositions.” ^ Such were the outward expressions of the lips of the princess Anne, which were in utter contradiction to her private words and writings. She need not have soiled her mind and conscience with duplicity, and dark and dirty intrigues. England would have denied the succession to an heir bred a Roman catholic, even if his sisters 1 Diary and Correspondence of Henry lord Clarendon, edited by S. W. Singer, esq., ol. ii. pp. lOy, 199. 492 Mary II, [1688. bad been truthful women, and likewise grateful and dutiful daughters. Lord Clarendon was in the ante-room, and heard the fair-seeming reply of his niece, and when the lords of council went out, he entered her presence. “ The princess,” he said, “ was pleased to tell me the answer she gave to the council. I hope,” returned Clarendon, “ that there now remains no suspicion with your royal highness.” She made no an- swer.^ CHAPTER IV. Our narrative now leads us back for a few weeks, to witness the proceed- ings of the elder daughter of James II. at her court of the Hague, which was in an equal ferment of agitated expectation with that of England. Here the princess was occupied in listening, with apparent simplicity, to the polemic and political explanations of Dr. Burnet in Holland, who had undertaken, by special commission, to render her subservient to the principles of the coming revolution. Those who have seen' the corre- spondence of the daughters of James II. may deem that the doctor might have spared any superfluous circumlocution in the case ; but on com- parison of his words and those letters, it will be found that it pleased the princess of Orange to assume an appearance of great ignorance regard- ing the proceedings in England. “ She knew but little of our affairs,” says Burnet, “ till I was admitted to wait upon her, and I began to lay before her the state of our court, and the intrigues in it ever since the Restoration, which she received with great satisfaction, and true judg- ment and good sense in all the reflections she made.” Another subject of discussion with the princess of Orange and Burnet, was the reported imposition regarding the birth of her unhappy brother and unconscious rival, which slander each assumed as a truth ; but the princess, stifling the memory of her sister’s disgusting letters and her own replies, appeared to hear it with astonishment for the first time. In the course of these remarkable conversations, Burnet observes, “ the princess asked me ‘ what had sharpened the king her father so much against M. Jurieu ?’ ” 2 Burnet replied wide of the mark, “ that Jurieu had written with great in- decency of Mary queen of Scots, which cast reflections on them that were descended from her, and was not very decent in one employed by the prince and herself.” To this the princess answered, by giving her own especial recipe for historical biography, as follows : “ That Jurieu was to support the cause he defended, and to expose those that persecuted it in the best way ® he could and, “ if what he said of Mary queen of Scots ^ Diary and Correspondence of Henry lord 2 Burnet’s History of His Own Time. Clarendon, edited by S. \V. Singer, esq., vol. ii. Mary means “ the worst way he could.’* D. 120. 493 lbs 8, 1 Mary^s deceitful answer to her father, was true, he was not to be blamed and she added, “ that if princesses will do ill things, they must expect that the world will take that revenge on their memories that it cannot on their persansy ^ A more rational method of judging than that induced by the furious and one- sided advocacy this princess approved, and which she was pleased to see stain the memory of her hapless ancestress, on whose person party vengeance had been wreaked to the uttermost, is, by the test of facts, illustrated by autograph letters. By the spirit of a genuine correspon- dence may the characteristics of historical personages best be illustrated, and the truth, whether “ill things” are done, best ascertained. The united aid of facts and letters will throw light even on the deeply-veiled character of Mary II. of England. About the time this conversation took place between this highly-praised princess and her panegyrist Burnet, she received the following letter from her step-mother — a princess who has had her full share of this world’s revilings : — “ Queen Mary Beatrice to Mary Princess of Orange.^ “ Sept. 28, 1688. “ I am much troubled what to say, at a time when nothing is talked of but the prince of Orange coming over with an army ; this has been said for a long time, and believed by a great many, but I do protest to you that I never did believe till now, very lately, that I have no possi- bility left of doubting it. The second part of the news I will never believe, which is, that you are to come over with him, for I know you to be too good. I do not believe you could have such a thought against the worst of fathers, much less to perform it against the best, who has always been so kind to you, and I do believe, has loved you better than any of his children.” Mary had again written to her father, only a few days before the receipt of the above letter, that the journey her husband had taken to Minden, whence he returned September 20, 1688, was for the sole purpose of getting the German princes in congress there to march against France, he being still the generalissimo of the war of Spain and the emperor against Louis XIV. James II. showed his daughter’s letter to Barillon, the French ambassador, then at his court, as an answer to his warnings regarding the Dutch armament.* Meantime, James had sent Bevil Skelton, the cavalier ambassador lately at the Hague, to the Tower, as a punishment for perseveringly warning his royal master of the real 1 Burnet’s Own Time. the history a fragment. The same curious 2 Historical Letters, edited by Sir H. Ellis ; coincidence occurs with Sir James Mackin- first series, vol. hi, tosh, and the documentary conclusion by ^ Mazure, from Albeville’s Despatches. Wallace is in direct contradiction to the coni- Barillon’s Daspatches to Louis XIV., 166 ; mencement. Every historian who attempts 1688. Fox MSS, The information is pre- to write from documents of this era, and gives served by the statesman C. J. Fox, who, when true and direct references, seems in the same be came to open the documentary history of predicament, the Revolution, threw down his pen, and left 494 Mary II. [1688. machinations of Mary and her spouse. Louis XIV. offered to intercept the fleet preparing for the invasion of England, but nothing could induce the father to believe these warnings in preference to the letters of his diild, who moreover complained most piteously of the ill conduct of Bevil Skelton, as a person wholly in the interest of France, against her and her husband. James was vexed with the peace of Europe being broken, and concerned himself more with endeavours to prevent France and Spain from going to war than guarding against invasion from his “ son of Orange ” in profound peace ; and again firmly believing in Mary’s solemn affirmations that her husband was only preparing to repel the hourly expected attack of France, he actually offered William, the same autumn of 1688, forces for his aid, if that power should break the peace, both by sea and land ! ^ James was sure that the outcries of Bevil Skel- ton by way of warning, were the mere effects of French diplomacy, to force him to war against his son-in-law. Mary’s worst guilt was the falsehood by which she sought to deceive her father relative to the preparations in Holland for the invasion of England, which she continually assured him were merely for the usual service of the emperor. This untruth Mary repeated constantly to her unfortunate father, who, until the middle of September, remained utterly trustful in his daughter’s integrity. “James II. to his daughter Mary. “ Whitehall, Sept. 26, 1688. “ I see by yours of the 20th inst., that the prince of Orange was gone to the Hague ; and from thence, that he w^as arrived. What his business is there at this time, I do really believe you are not acquainted with, nor with the resolution he has taken, which alarms all people here very much.” 2 The succeeding letter, however, seems written under the utter convic- tion that his son-in-law was was about to invade him, in a time of profound peace : — “James II. to his daughter Mary.® “ Whitehall, Sept. 28, 1688. “ This -evening I had yours of the 4th, from Hieren, by which I find you were then to go to the Hague, being sent for by the prince. I suppose it is to inform you of his design of coming to England, which he has been so long a contriving. I hope it will have heen as great a surprise to you ^ as it was to me, when I first heard it^ being sure it is not in your nature to approve of so unjust an undertaking. I have been all this day so busy, to endeavour to be in some condition to defend myself from so 1 Albeville’s Despatches, deciphered by ^ Here the king alludes to Mary’s often re- Mazure, vol. iii. peated asseverations to him regarding this 2 Additional MS. 4163, folio 1; British force. Museum. * ^ Ibid. 495 i688.J Agonizing letters from her father, unjust and unexpected an attempt, that I am almost tired, and so I shall say no more but that I shall always have as much kindness for you as you will give me leave to have.” These letters were followed by others, which, in their parental simpli- city, must have been heart-rending to any one not exactly provided with a heart of marble. The evident failure of physical strength expressed by the old father, the worn-out hero of many a hard battle, while making ready to repel the hostility of his children, ought to have been agonizing to the daughter. “James II. to his daughter Mary. “Whitehall, Oct. 2, 1688. “ I was this morning abroad to take the air, and to see some batteries I have made below Woolwich for the defence of the river. And since I came back, I have been so very busy to prepare things for the invasion intended^ that I could not write till now, that ’tis near midnight, so that you might not wonder if my letter be short. For news, you will have it from others, for really I am very weary ; so shall end, which I do, with assuring you of my continuing as kind to you as you can desire.” ^ The tone of calm sorrow is remarkable in the last and most tender of these epistles. It will be seen, by the date, that the correspondence between the father and daughter was constant, even down to a few days of the landing of his enemy. Surely this letter, gentle and reasonable as it is, still searching for excuses, and hoping against hope that he had the sympathy of his child, persuading himself, and quite willing to persuade her, that she did not participate in aught against him, is replete with touching pathos. The old Greek tragedians often imagined such situations ; they could grandly paint the feelings natural to a mind torn between the clashing interests of filial and conjugal love, just as the old monarch supposes here was the case with his Mary ; but neither poet nor moralist has described conduct like that of the royal heroine of the revolution of 1688. “King James to his daughter Mary. “ Whitehall, Oct. 9, 1688. “ I had no letter from you by the last post, which you see does not hinder me from writing to you now, not knowing, certainly, what may have hindered you from doing it^ I easily believe you may be embar- rassed how to write to me, now that the unjust design of the prince of Orange invading me is so public. And though I know you are a good wife, and ought to bo so, yet for the same reason I must believe you will be still as good a daughter to a father that has always loved you so ten- derly, and that has never done the least thing to make you doubt it. I shall say no more, and believe you very uneasy all tins time, for the • Additional MS. 4163, folio 1, Birch; British Museum. 496 Mary IL [1688. concern you must have for a husband and a father. You shall still find me kind to you, if you desire it.” ^ Such was the last letter from the father to the daughter. It* does honour to the king, for here we see the patient and much-enduring love of the parent. It is a letter, the retrospection of which must have cut deep into her conscience, if “ Mary the daughter ” ever reviewed the past in her lone silent watches of the night. While every indication promised full success to the revolution pre- paring for Great Britain, the peculiar notions of the prince of Orange relative to queens-regnant, threatened some disagreement between the two principal persons concerned in the undertaking. In this dilemma. Dr. Burnet kindly tendered his diplomatic aid, and proceeded to probe the opinions of the princess regarding the manner in which she meant to conduct herself towards a regal yoke-fellow. “ The princess,” says the instructing divine, “ was so new to all matters of this kind, that she did not, at first, seem to understand my meaning, but fancied that whatever accrued to her would go to the prince of Orange in right of marriage. I told her it was not so, and explained Henry VII. ’s title to her, and what had passed when queen Mary married Philip of Spain. I told her that a titular kingship was no acceptable thing for a man, especially if it was to depend on another’s life.” The princess asked Burnet to propose a remedy. “ I told her the remedy,” he resumes, “ if she could bring her mind to it. It was, to be contented to be his wife, and engage herself to him to give him the real authority, as soon as it came into her hands. The princess bade me ‘ bring the prince to her, and I should hear what she had to say upon it.’ The prince ol Orange was that day hunting. On the morrow, I acquainted him with all that passed, and carried him to her, where she, in a very frank manner, told him ‘ that she did not know that the laws of England were so contrary to the laws of God as I had informed her.’ She said, ‘ that she did not think the husband ever was to be obedient to his wife,’ and she promised him ‘ that he should always bear the rule.’ ” According to other authorities, Mary added “ that, as she should gladly obey him, she hoped he would also fulfil his part of the marriage con- tract by loving her.”^ The prince of Orange said not one word in approbation of her conduct, but told Burnet, if that could be deemed commendation, “ that he had been nine years married to the princess, and never had the confidence to press this matter which had been brought about so soon.” On what terms of conjugal companionship could their royal highnesses have been at this momentous period may reasonably be 1 Additional MS. 4163, folio 1, Birch; Bri- likewise borne out by a curious contemporary tish Museum. woik, Secret History of the Stuarts, formerly 3 Palin’s History of the Church of England, in possession of his royal highness the late from 1688 to 1717: 2nd edit., Rivington, duke of Sussex. 1851. This learned gentleman’s research is i688.] Conflicting statements. 497 inquired ? In curious illustration of these alleged passages touching the conjugal confidences of the Orange pair, is the fact, that at the very time, and for two years previously, a correspondence was carried on between the princess of Orange and her sister Anne on the subject of the bitter insults and mortifications the princess of Orange received daily from her maid, Elizabeth Villiers. The preference given by the prince of Orange to his wife’s attendant would have been borne in the uncom- plaining spirit with which Mary endured all the grievances of her married life, but she could not abide that the shameless woman should boast of that preference,^ and make it public matter for the world to jeer at, or, worse far, to pity. Mary relieved her overburdened heart by relating details of these mortifications to her sister. The wrongs de- scribed therein raised the indignation of the princess Anne to a height which had led her to the imprudent act of rating Bentinck, when in Eng- land as envoy, for the ill-conduct of his sister-in-law (very probably she approved as little of the conduct of his wife), and told him, sharply, “ to check the insolence of Elizabeth Yilliers to the princess of Orange.” The remonstrance of the princess Anne was duly reported to her brother- in-law of Orange, and the remembrance laid up for a future day, the effects of which Anne felt after William was on the British throne. The last letter that James II. wrote to the prince of Orange is friendly, and is directed, as usual, “ For my son the prince of Orange.” The public reception of family correspondence at length became a matter either of pain of mind or confusion of face to the princess of Orange. The last letters written to her by her father she would not receive per- sonally, as usual, from the hands of his envoy, Albeville, but sent for them privately : they were probably destroyed unread. The French ambassador, lI’Avaux, wrote to his court, that the princess of Orange was seen every day, even on the very day of the embarkation, in public, with a gay, laughing countenance. This is not in unison with the state- ments of two other eye-witnesses, Burnet and Albeville, nor, indeed, with probability, which is better deserving credit than the evidence of either ; for, in case of failure, the risk was tremendous. “ I waited on the princess of Orange,” says Burnet, “ a few days before we left the Hague. She seemed to have a great load on her spirits, but to have no scruple as to the lawfulness of the design. I said to her, that ‘ If we got safe to England, I made no doubt of our success in other things only I begged her pardon to tell her, ‘ that if at any time any misunderstanding was to happen between the prince and her, it would ruin all.’ The princess answered, ‘ I need fear no such thing ; for if any persons should attempt that, she would treat them so as to discourage them from venturing it again.’ She was very solemn and serious, and prayed very earnestly to God to bless and direct ws.” Dr. Burnet was accompanying the prince 1 D’Avaux’ Despatches, quoted l^y Fox in his Appendix. 2 K VOL. V. 498 Mary IL [ 1688 . as spiritual director of the expedition, which accounts for his emphatic plural “us” in his narrative. “At last,” resumes he, “the prince of Orange went on hoard, and we all sailed on the night of the 19th of October, 1688, when directly a great storm arose, and many ships were, at the first alarm, believed to be lost. The princess of Orange behaved herself suitably to what was expected of her. She ordered prayers four times a day, and assisted at them with great devotion.” Incredible as it may seem, prayers were likewise put up in the popish chapels at the Hague belonging to the Spanish and Imperial ambassadors, for the success of the prince of Orange.^ It was noticed, that at prayers in the chamber of the princess of Orange, all mention of the prince of Wales Avas omitted ; likewise she forbade the collects for her father,^ yet liis name was retained in the Litany, perhaps accidentally. As the collects are “ for grace,” and that “ God might dispose and govern the heart” of her father, the suppression is scarcely consistent with the piety for which Mary has been celebrated. The silence of documentary history as to the scene of the actual part- ing between William and Mary at the hour of his embarkation for Eng- land, is partly supplied by one of the contemporary Dutch paintings commemorative of that event, lately purchased for her majesty’s collec- tion at Hampton-court by the commissioners of the woods and forests. Ill the first of these highly curious tableaux we behold an animated scene of the preparations for the departure of the prince, described with all the graphic matter-of-fact circumstances peculiar to the Dutch school of art, even to the cording and handing of the liberator’s trunks and portmanteaus close to his feet, while he stands surrounded by the wives of the burgomasters of the Brill and Helvoetsluys, who are affectionately presented him with parting benedictions in the shape of overflowing goblets. One fair lady has actually laid her hand on his highness’s arm, while with the other she offers him a glass of scheidam, or some other tempting beverage. Another low German charmer holds up a deep glass of Rhenish nectar ; others tender schnaps in more moderate-sized glasses. One of the sympathetic ladies, perhaps of the princess’s suite, is weeping ostentatiously, with a handkerchief large enough for a banner. William, meantime, apparently insensible of these characteristic marks of atten- tion from his loyal country-women, bends an expressive glance upon his royal consort, English Mary, who has just turned about to enter her state carriage, which is in waiting for her. Her face is therefore con- cealed. The lofty proportions of her stately figure, which have been somewhat exaggerated by the painter, sufficiently distinguished her from the swarm of short, fat, Dutch Madonnas by whom the hero of Nassau is surrounded. She wears a high cornette cap, long stiff waist with white I Barillon’s Despatches, Dalrymple’s App‘ ndix. Burnet’s Own Time. 2 Albeville’s Despatches. i688.] Scene at William^ s embarkation. 499 satin bodice, scarlet petticoat, orange scarf, and farthingale hoop. Her neck is bare, and decorated with her usual string of large round pearls. The carriage is a high, narrow chariot, painted of a dark green colour, with ornamental statues at each corner. In form and design it greatly resembles the carriage of the lord mayor of London, only much neater and smaller; the window curtains are of a bright rose colour. The embarkation of horses and troops is actively proceeding. William's state-barge has mounted the royal standard of Great Britain, with the motto, “ Prot. Pieligion and Liberty,” and the stately first-rate vessel in which he is to pass the seas, lies in the offing similarly decorated : some of the other vessels have orange flags. The people on the shore are throwing up their hats, and drinking success to the expedition. It is, altogether, the representation of a very animating scene, full of quaint costume and characteristic details of the manners and customs of William and Mary’s Dutch subjects. “ Mary wept bitterly when she parted from her husband,” says Albeville, “ she shut herself up after- w^ards, and would not appear on her day of dining publicly at the Hague-palace.” ^ From the lofty turrets of that gothic palace tra- dition declares she watched the fleet depart from the Brill, which was to invade her sire. Every one knows that the prince of Orange arrived safely in Torbay on the eve of the anniversary of “ the Gunpowder-plot,” “ a remarkable and crowning providence,” as one of the writers of that age observes, “ since both of these national festivities can be conveniently celebrated by the same holiday.” This day was lilvewise the anniversary birthday of William of Orange and of his wedding with Mary of England. The prince noticed the coincidences with more vivacity than was usual to him. He landed at the village of Broxholme, near Torbay, November 5. When he perceived that all around was quiet, and no symptoms of opposition to his landing, he said to Dr. Burnet, “ Ought not I to believe in pre- destination ?” It was then three o’clock in a November afternoon, but he mounted his horse, and went with Schomberg to reconnoitre, or as Burnet expresses himself, “ to discover the country right and left.‘^ He marched four miles into Devonshire, and lodged at a little town called Newton ; but it was ten in the evening before the whole force arrived there, and then every one was wet and weary. The next day, about noon, the greatest landholdei- in Devonshire, the ‘ chevalier ’ Courtney, sent his son to his highness, to pray him to come and sleep at his seat 1 Albeville’s Despatches, William sailed carried at least about 15,000 men. with a fleet of fifty-two ships of war, many 2 jyis. letter in French, written by Burnet of them merchant ships borrowed by the to one of his friends left in Holland, probably States, for great liad been the havoc made by for the information of the princess, but os- James 11. in the Dutch navy, Notwithstand- tensibly for his wife, a Dutchwoman. The ing the loss by his victory at Sol ebay, the letter is very yellow, and now crumbling into Dutch admirals hoisted their fl igs on seventy- fragments — Harleian MS. 6798, art. 49. gun ships ; there were 400 transports, which 500 Mary IL [i6p8. that night. The prince of Orange went there, and for an impromptu entertainment, such as this was, it was impossible to be more splendidly regaled.” The prince favoured the Courtney baronet with his company four whole days, during which time there was no stir to join him. As so many days elapsed before any of the population of the west of Eng- land showed symptoms of co-operation with the prince of Orange, a murmur began to be heard among the Dutch forces, that they had been betrayed to utter destruction.^ Nevertheless, most of the leading public characters in England had committed themselves, by written invitations to the prince of Orange. The mine was ready to explode ; but every one waited for somebody to toss the match. When the first revolt of importance was made, the race was which should the soonest follow.^ Whilst the trusted friends of king James, persons on whom he had bestowed many benefits, were waiting to see Avho should be the first to betray him, a noble contrast was offered by Dr. Ken, bishop of Bath and W^ells, one of the prelates whom he had incarcerated in the ToAver for refusal to comply Avith his dictation in favour of the Koman catholics. The letter subjoined is little known, but it journalizes the early pro- gress of William in the Avest of England, and is valuable in regard to the bishop’s allusion to himself as chaplain to the princess of Orange. Several persons AAmo had affected to become Eoman catholics, as a base homage to James II. ’s religious principles, had deserted to the prince of Orange ; j^et this Avestern bishop stood firm to his loyalty, although he AA^as no sycophant of James, for unarmed but with his pastoral staff, he had boldly faced Kirke in his Avorst moments of drunken rage, and despite of his fury, comforted the unhappy victims in his diocese of the Monmouth rebellion ; therefore everyone expected to see the bishop Ken following the camp of the Orange prince. But the courage and humanity of this deeply revered prelate in 1685, was, if tested by the laws of consistency, the true cause of his loyalty in 1688. His letter is addressed to a kindred mind, that of Bancroft, archbishop of Canterbury : — “ May it please your Grace, “ Before I could return any ansAver to the letter with which your grace was pleased, to favour me, I received intelligence that the Dutch AA^re just coming to Wells ; upon Avhich I immediately left the town, and in obedience to his majesty’s general commands, took all my coach- horses with me, and as many of my saddle-horses as I well could, and took shelter in a private village in Wiltshire, intending, if his majesty had come into my country, to have Avaited on him, and paid him my duty. But this morning Ave are told his majesty has gone back to Lon- don, so that I only wait till the Dutch have passed my diocese, and then resolve to return thither again, that being my proper station. I would not have left the diocese in this juncture but that the Dutch had 1 Diary of lord Clarendon. 2 Lord Dartmouth. ]688.] Last attempt to touch Anne^s heart. 501 seized horses within ten miles of AVells, before I went; and 3 ^onr grace knows that I, having been a servant to the princess [of Orange], and well acquainted with many of the Dutch, I could not have staid without giving some occasions of suspicion, which I thought it most advisable to avoid, resolving, by God’s grace, to continue in a firm loyalty to the king whom God direct and preserve in this time of danger ; and I beseech your grace to lay my most humble duty at his majesty’s feet, and to acquaint him with the cause of my retiring. God of his infinite mercy deliver us from the calamities which now threaten us, and from the sins which have occasioned them. “ My very good lord, “ Your grace’s very affectionate servant and bishop, “ November 24, 1688.” “ Thomas, Bath and Wells. The princess Anne had had an interview with her father on the 3rd of November, o. s., when he communicated to her the news that the Dutch fieet had been seen off Dover; and lent her a copy of the prince of Orange’s declaration, which had been disseminated along the coast. The king was on friendly terms with his younger daughter, nor had he then the slightest suspicion that the invasion was instigated by her. “ The same day I waited on the princess Anne,” says her uncle Clarendon, “ and she lent me the declaration of the prince of Orange, telling me ‘ that the king had lent it to her, and that she must restore it to him on the morrow.’ ” This appears to have been the last intercourse between the princess Anne and her father. The declaration blazoned abroad the slander that the prince of Wales was an infant impostor, intruded on the nation by king James, in order that England might fall under the rule of a prince educated as a Roman catholic. It may seem unaccountable wherefore the daughters of James II. adopted a falsehood which aggravated the needful exclusion of their father and his uncon- scious son into personal injury ; but it was the contrivance of their own private ambition, to guard against the possibility that the prince of Wales should be taken from his parents and educated by the country according to the doctrines of the church of England, which would have excluded his sisters effectually from the succession they eagerly coveted. Lord Clarendon made a last attempt to touch the feelings of the princess Anne for her father, November 9. “I told her,” he writes, “that endeavours were using for the lords temporal and spiritual to join in an address to the king ; that now it would be seasonable to say something to her father, whereby he might see her concern for him. The princess replied, ‘ that the king did not love that she should meddle with anything, and that the papists would let him do nothing,’ I told her ‘ that the king was her father ; that she knew the duty she owed him ; that she knew how very tender and kind he had been to her ; and that he had never troubled her about religion, as she had several times 502 Mary II. [1688. owned to me. The princess replied, ‘ that was tnie but she grew exceedingly uneasy at my discourse, and said ‘ that she must dress her- self,’ and so I left her.” ^ The news arrived in London in a few hours, that lord Cornbury, the eldest son of the earl of Clarendon, and of course the first cousin of the princess, had deserted the king’s army, with three regiments. His father, bowed with grief and shame, omitted his visits to his niece, who demanded, when she saw him, “why he had not come to the Cockpit lately ?” Lord Clarendon replied, “ that he was so much con- cerned for the villany his son had committed, that he was ashamed of being seen anywhere.” — “Oh,” exclaimed the princess, “people are so apprehensive of popery, that you will find many more of the army will do the same.” Lord Cornbury’s defection was perfectly well known to her ; he was the first gentleman of her husband’s bedchamber, and by no means troubled with the old-fashioned cavalier loyalty of his father. His wife, likewise in the household of the princess, made herself re- markable by dressing herself in orange colour,^ which glaring hue the princess likewise adopted to celebrate the fall of her father. It is by no means a pleasant task to follow the windings of a furtive mind to the goal of undeserved success, attained by means of “ That low cunning, which in fools supplies — And amply too, the want of being wise.’* Yet be it remembered, that the worst traits which deform the private character of Anne, are those portrayed in her own letters, and in the papers of her mother’s brother and trusted friends. At that time the princess Anne was waiting anxiously news from her husband, who had, in fair-seeming friendship, departed, in company with her father, to join his army near Salisbury, with the ostensible purpose of assisting in defending him from “ his son the prince of Orange.” The prince George was to be attended in his flight by lady Churchill’s husband, the ungrateful favourite of the king, and Sir George Hewett, a gentleman belonging to the household of the princess. There was a dark plot of assassination contrived against James by these two last agents, which seems as well authenticated as any point of history. It was confessed by Hewett on his deathbed, amidst agonies of remorse and horror.® While the husband of the princess Anne was watching his most feasible time for absconding, he dined and supped at the table of the king, his father-in-law. Tidings were hourly brought of some important defection or other from among the king’s officers, on which prince George 1 Diary of Henry earl of Clarendon. 3 xhe duke of Berwick’s evidence in his 2 Letter to lady Margaret Russell, from the Memoirs, against his uncle the duke of l\larl- family papers of his grace the late duke borough, will be allowed to be decisive re- of Devonshire, copied by permission, July 2, garding the truth of this plot. 1846. i 683 .] Letter of prince George of Denmark to king James. 503 of Denmark usually turned to James II. with the grimace and voice of condolence, uttering one set phrase of surprise, “ Est il possible At last, one Saturday night, November 24, the prince of Denmark and Sir George Hewett went off to the hostile camp, after supping with king James, and greatly condemning all deserters. The king, who had been taken alarming ill in the course of the last few hours, received the announcement of the desertion of his son-in-law with the exclamation, “How! has ‘est il possible^ gone off too?”^ Yet the example of his departure was one of fearful import to the king. James II. had not the slightest idea but that his heart might repose on the fidelity of his daughter Anne. When it is remembered how unswervingly affectionate and faithful even the infant children of Charles I. had proved, not only to their father but to each other, in similar times of trial and dis- tress, his confidence in his daughter cannot excite surprise. A con- temporary ^ has preserved the letter which George of Denmark left for the king on his departure. It commences thus : — “ Prince George of Denmark to James II. “ My just concern for that religion in which I have been so happily educated, which my judgment truly convinced me to be the best, and for the support thereof I am highly interested in my native country ; and was not England then become so by the most endearing tie The prince has made this note a tissue of blunders, confounding the church of England with the Lutheran religion, although essentially different. The biographer of Dr. Tillotson claims the composition of this note as one of the good deeds of that prelate ; it is certain that Dr. Tillotson was not in the king’s camp, but actively busy in London. The only comment James II. made, when he read the note of George of Denmark, was, “ I only mind him as connected with my dearest child ; otherwise the loss of a stout trooper would have been greater.” ® The envoy from Denmark was summoned by king James to council on the event of the flight of prince George from the camp at Andover. Several parties of horse were sent after the prince to capture him, and his own countryman, who was no friend to the revolution, requested “that orders to take him, alive or dead, might be added to their instructions.” ^ It does not seem that it was done. Instant information was despatched to the princess at the Cockpit, that prince George, lord Churchill, and Sir George Hewett had deserted 1 Roger Coke, in his Detection. much a man of honour and honesty as a mer- 2 ibid. cenary soldier can be, received the deserters 3 Coke’s Detection. Prince George and from James II. with a sarcasm so cutting, Churchill had vainly endeavoured to carry that lord Churchill never forgot it. “Sir,” off with them a portion of the army ; the said Schomberg to him, “ you are the first common soldiers and non-commissioned offl- deserter of the rank of a lieutenant-general 1 cers positively refused to forsake their king, ever saw.” — Stuart Papers, edited by Mac- General Schomberg, who was second in com- pherson. mand to the prince of Orange, and was as ^ Lediard’s Life of Marlborough. 504 Mary IL [i688. the camp of her father, x^nne soon summoned her coadjutors, and prepared for her own flight. She had written the week before to warn the prince of Orange of her intentions, and had systematically pre- pared for her escape, by recently ordering a flight of private stairs to be constructed, which led from her closet down into St. James’s-park.^ Lady Churchill had, in the afternoon, sought a conference with Compton bishop of London, the tutor of the princess ; he had withdrawn, .but left a letter advertising where he was to be found, in case the princess wished to leave her father. The bishop and the ex-lord chamberlain, lord Dorset, sent word that they would wait in St. James’s-park with a hackney-coach, at one o’clock in the morning of November the 25th ; and that if the princess could steal unobserved out of the Cockpit, they would take charge of her. It has been stated that the lord chamberlain Mulgrave had orders to arrest the ladies Churchill and Fitzharding, but that the princess Anne had entreated the queen to delay this measure until the king’s return — an incident which marks the fact, that Anne was on apparently friendly terms with her step-mother. Meantime, a manuscript letter among the family papers of his grace the duke of Devonshire, afiirms that the king had ordered the princess herself to be arrested ; if this had been true, he could not have been surprised at her flight, which he certainly was. The facts, gathered from several contemporary sources, are as follows : — The princess Anne retired to her chamber on Sunday evening at her usual hour ; her lady in waiting, Mrs. Danvers, who was not in the plot, went to bed in the ante-chamber, according to custom. Lady Fitzharding, at that time the principal lady of the bedchamber to the princess Anne, one of the sisters to the mistress of the prince of Orange, and was, of course, an active agent in the intrigue ; she, with lady Churchill, came up the newly-constructed back-stairs unknown to the rest of the household, and there waited the hour of appointment perdue with lady Churchill’s maid. When one o’clock struck, the princess stole down into the park with these women, and close to the Cockpit she met her auxiliary, lord Dorset. The night was dark ; it poured wdth torrents of rain, and St. James’s-park was a mass of black November mud. The adventurers had not very far to walk to the hackney-coach, engaged for her conveyance, which stood in the open street with Compton, bishop of London, as guard and guide, disguised, some statements aver, as a footman, but the equipage was not very easy to be gained from any of the avenues leading to Chari ng-cross, for the princess, who had not equipped herself for pedestrian exigencies, soon lost one of her fine high-heeled shoes inextri- cably in the mud. She was, however, in the highest spirits, and not disposed to be daunted by trifles. She tried to hop forward with one shoe, but lord Dorset fearing that she would take cold, very gallantly 1 Lord Dartmouth’s Notes. i 688 .] Anne ^ s adventures in her flight. 505 pulled off his embroidered leather glove (which was of the long gauntlet fashion), and begged her royal highness to permit him to draw it on her foot, as some defence against the wet. This was done, amidst peals of laughter and many jokes from the whole party, and, partly hopping and partly carried by lord Dorset, the princess gained the spot where the bishop waited for them in the hackney-coach. The whole party then drove to the bishop of London’s private house in Aldersgate-street, where they were refreshed, and took some rest. That street was convenient for their next station, as the}^ sallied out before daybreak and safely arrived at lord Dorset’s seat, Copt-hall, in Waltham-forest. The princess only made a stay there of a few hours, and then, with the bishop, lord Dorset, and her two ladies, commenced her journey for- Nottingham : but before arriving there, according to an interesting local authority,^ several adventures and alarms befell them. How did they travel ? is a question may be well asked by all those who know what the high roads of England were at that era, even in gay summer seasons. Three times was Anne’s consort overturned in eight miles when travelling to Petworth, fifteen years nearer to our civilized high roads, when he went to Sussex in the royal coach to meet the king of Spain. Wheels, therefore, in muddy November 26, 1688, were utterly impracticable in the course of a few miles ; as such upsets by the way would soon have betrayed the escapade, even if no broken bones were the result. It is certain from an odd incident in Leicester, that princess, bishop, and ladies, performed the journey on horses, sometimes borrowed, sometimes hired. And it is evident that the princess travelled sitting behind a guide on a pillion. Compton, the bishop of London, changed his ignoble disguising, and escorted the party as military leader, dressed in buff coat and jack-boots, broad sword by his side, and more than one pair of pistols in the holsters of his saddle. Thus realizing his former threat to king James, who formerly telling him in one of their disputes, that he talked more like a colonel than a bishop, Compton observed to the by-standers, “ His royal highness does me honour in recalling the fact that I have formerly drawn my sword for the constitution of this country, and I shall certainly do the same again if I live to see it necessary.” The first resting-place where the fugitives permitted themselves to be recognised was at Market Harborough.^ There the princess Anne took refuge at the residence of Mr. Mackrith, the second house from the Swan Inn ; she slept and was refreshed there. She was suffering consider- able inconvenience, for it seems she had made no proper preparation to encounter the hardships of winter travelling, having nothing upon her person excepting a dressing wrapper. But the afiectionate inhabitants 1 Royal Progresses to Leicester, part iii. By William Kelly, esq. Read before the Leicester Literary and Philosophical Society, 1858. 2 ibij. 506 Mary II, Ti^gs. of Market Harborough presented her with a gown and other needful articles of clothing which were very thankfully received by her royal highness in the role oi distressed errant-princess. Market Harborough is eighty-four miles from London and thirteen from Leicester, where the fugitives expected rest and security on their way to the stronghold of Nottingham. The princess made her day’s journey to Leicester safely, and was received there with great and joyful hospitality b}^ the authori- ties ; they conducted her to Lord’s-place for her night’s lodging ; they made her a grand banquet which cost them five pounds sterling, a grander provision of divers potations costing them seven pounds twelve shillings and sixpence paid to Mr. John Cradock for wine and bottles, and they paid two pounds to seven-and-twenty trained soldiers for mounting guard “one day and night when her highness the princess Anne of Denmark did lye in the town.” ^ Next morning all was astir for the transit to Nottingham, and here a difficulty occurred, there was no horse could be hired in Leicester that would carry double ; all the Leicester available steeds declined the burden of the princess and her guide, meaning the gentleman behind whom her royal highness rode on the pillion. Such mode of progress her ances- tress, St. Margaret of Scotland, did not disdain when fording the swift streams of Scotland, holding tight the belt of her faithful Hungarian equerry, Bartholomew Leslyn, who now and then exhorted his royal mistress with the cry of “Grip haudl”^ Once when battling with some swollen ford of a tributary to “rushing Spey,” queen Mar- garet asked her Hungarian cavalier, who was putting forth his best strength and equestrian skill, to bring her safe to the opposite bank, “ If there was peril of life ?” “ Na, gin the buckle bide,” answered the naturalized Scot very coolly. For if his belt, to which queen Margaret clung, had given way, the royal saint would have been soon hurried down the foaming water and drowned. “ Ye shall have three buckles in time to come gin we reach yon brae safely,” quoth St. Margaret. Hence come the three buckles on the arms of the illustrious line of Leslie, for the brave Hungarian Bartholomew de Leslyn was their ancestor. Such, in the enchantment distance lends to saints and queens, may be the sublime, but our comfortable Anne who became queen-regnant no later than the last century, eschewed sublimity in her most adven- turous days as the rest of the Leicester incident very well proves. In the midst of her trouble having pillion, saddle, and man, but no monture for herself, out stepped a corpulent Leicester mercer, Mr. Mason by name, with the friendly offer of his remarkably stout and tame grey mare, who would treat princess, pillion, and pillion-man with revereiitial consideration. The loan was accepted with gratitude, and the stout grey 1 Leicester Borough MSS. 2 Hungarian tradition — it is realized by Burke’s Peerage. i688.] The mercer s stout grey mare. 607 mare more than redeemed all that the good mercer had promised for her. When the time of setting out arrived and the mare was to be mounted, down knelt the creature like a camel to the astonishment of all the party, then the owner explained that the docile animal had been trained so to do because he was very heavy and fat and could mount in no other mode.^ Mr. Mason’s mare, nevertheless, honourably acquitted her- self, as she only knelt on suitable occasions, and the princess arrived safely that night at the end of her journey. Hitherto, bishop Compton had been the sole male attendant of the fugitive princess and her ladies ; but at Leicester her adventurous escape became generally known and many were the volunteers who mounted and followed Mr. Mason’s grey mare and its double burden. Colley Cibber the dramatic author, then a moon-struck unsuccessful actor of the hobble- de-hoy time of life, had waited at the grand Leicester banquet of the preceding evening where for the first time he saw Sarah lady Churchill, whose beauty seems utterly to have bewildered him. Nothing would suit him but to mount and go with the civic guard of volunteers which Leicester poured forth to accompany the princess Anne on her stage to Nottingham : he brought, however, no valour to the aid of the illustrious fugitive, and no doubt made the most of the alarms that ensued, if indeed they were not raised by his own imagination. “ When the princess,” says Colley Cibber, “ was within half-a-day’s journey of Not- tingham, we were suddenly alarmed with the news that two thousand of the king’s dragoons were in close pursuit to bring her back to London ; but this was only part of the general terror we were thrown into in many places, by the reports promulgated by those who desired to animate the people to their common defence, it being given out that the Irish were everywhere at our heels to cut off all the protestants.” However, the Leicester mounted volunteers elected the butf-coated bishop for their colonel on the spot, who gladly accepted the command ; but there was no exercise of heroism required, for the princess arrived safely on the tame stout grey mare at Nottingham, where the earl of Northampton, brother to the bishop-colonel, received them in great triumph. The proceedings of the princess after her retreat, are related by an eye- witness, lord Chesterfield. Of all the contemporaries of James IL, he was the least likely to be prejudiced in his favour. He had been brought up from infancy in companionship with the prince of Orange ; his mother, lady Stanhope, had been governess to the prince at the Hague. More- over, Chesterfield had not forgotten his angry resentment at the coquetries of his second wife with James 11. , when duke of York. The earl was, besides, a firm opposer of popery, and an attached son of the Anglican church. Every early prejudice, every personal interest, every natural resentment, led him to favour the cause of the prince of Orange. He 1 Nichols, in his Hist, of Leicestershire, says the fat mercer was his uncle. 608 Mary IL [1688. was a dee ]3 and acute observer ; be had known the princess Anne from her infancy, for he was chamberlain to her aunt, queen Catharine. Anne’s proceedings after her flight from Whitehall are here given in lord Chesterfield’s words : ^ “ She pretended that her father the king did persecute and use her ill for her religion, she being a protestant and he a papist. As soon as 1 heard of her coming with a small retinue to Notting- ham, I went thither with the lord Ferrers, and several gentlemen my neighbours, to offer her my services. The princess seemed to be well pleased ; she told me, ‘ that she intended to go to Warwick, but she appre- hended that lord MuUinux, who was a papist, and then in arms, would attack her on her journey.’ I assured her highness ‘ that T would wait upon her till she was in a state of safety.’ I left her, and returned to Notting- ham in two days at the head of a hundred horse, with which she seemed to be much satisfied. I met at Nottingham the earls of Devonshire, Northampton, and Scarsdale, lord Gray, the bishop of London, and many others, who had brought in 600 horse, and raised the militia of the country to attend her highness. The next day, her highness told me, ‘ That there were many disputes and quarrels among the young nobility around her ; therefore, to prevent disorders in the marching of her troops about precedence, she had appointed a council to meet that day, and me to be of it.’ I replied that ‘ I was come on purpose to defend her per- son, in a time of tumult, with my life, against any that should dare to attack her ; but that as to her council^ I did beg her pardon for desiring to be excused from it, for I had the honour to be a privy councillor to his majesty her father ; therefore I would be of no council for the order- ing of troops which I did perceive were intended to serve against him.’ I found that her highness and some of the noblemen round her were highly displeased with my answer, which they called a ‘ tacit ^ upbraid- ing them. and the princess with rebellion.” The princess Anne was, nevertheless, escorted by Chesterfield from Nottingham to Leicester ; but here he found a project which completed his disgust of the proceedings of “ the daughter.” It was, in fact, no other than the revival of the old “ Association,” which had about a cen- tury before hunted Mary queen of Scots to a scaffold. If Elizabeth, a kinswoman some degrees removed from Mary queen of Scots, but who had never seen her, has met with reprehension from the lovers of moral justice for her encouragement of such a league, what can be thought of the heart of a child, a favoured and beloved daughter, who had fled from the very arms of her father to join it ? “I waited on her highness the princess Anne to Leicester,” resumes Chesterfield.^ “Next morn- ing, at court, in the drawing-room, Avhich was filled with noblemen and gentlemen, the bishop of London called me aloud by my name ; he said ^ Memoir of Philip, second earl of Chester- library at Bath-house, published with his field, from his autograph papers found in the letters. 2 ibid. 609 i688.] Progress of the jprincess Anne. ‘that the princess Anne desired us to meet at four o’clock the same afternoon at an inn in Leicester, wliich he named, to do something which 'was for her service.’ ” Chesterfield expressed his displeasure at the manner in which lie was publicly called upon, without any previous intimation of the matter ; “ upon which, lord Devonshire, who stood by, observed, ‘ that he thought lord Chesterfield had been previously ac- quainted that the purpose of the princess was, to have an association entered into to destroy all the papists in England, in case the prince of Orange should be killed or murthered by any of them.’ ” An association for the purpose of extermination is always an ugly blot in history. Many times have the Eoman catholics been charged with such leagues, and it is indisputable that they were more than once guilty of carrying them into ferocious execution. But the idea that the father of the princess Anne was one of the proscribed religion, and that she could be enrolled as the chief of an association for extermination of those among whom lie was included, is a trait surpassing the polemic horrors of the sixteenth century. May this terrible fact be excused under the plea of the stupidity of Anne, and her utter incapacity for reasoning from cause to effect ? Could she not perceive that her father’s head would have been the first to be laid low by such an association ? If she did not, lord Chesterfield did. “ I would not enter into it,” he continues,^ “ nor sign the paper the bishop of London had drawn ; and after my refusing, lord Ferrers, lord Cullen, and above a hundred gen- tlemen refused to sign this association, which made the princess Anne extremely angry. However, I kept my promise with her highness, and waited on her from Leicester to Coventry, and from thence to Warwick.” Such was the errand on which Anne had left her home : let us now see what was going on in that home. Great was the consternation of her household at the Cockpit on the morning of November 26, when two hours had elapsed beyond her usual time of ringing for her atten- dants. Her women and Mrs. Danvers having vainly knocked and called at her door, at last had it forced. When they entered, they found the bed open, with the impression as if it had been slept in. Old Mrs. Buss, the nurse 2 of the princess, immediately cried out “that the princess had been murdered by the queen’s priests,” and the whole party ran screaming to lady Dartmouth’s apartments : some went to lord Clarendon’s apartments with the news. As lady Clarendon did not know the abusive names by which her niece and lady Churchill used to revile her, she threw herself into an agony of affectionate despair. While Mrs. Buss rushed into the queen’s presence, and rudely demanded 1 Memoir of Philip, second earl of Chester- 2 Lord Dartmouth’s Notes. Anne's nurse field, from his autograph papers, Bath-house, was a papist, as J)r. Lake aflQrms ; perhaps published with his letters. she had been converted. 510 Mary II. [1638. the princess Anne of her majesty, lady Clarendon ran about lamenting for her all over the court. This uproar was appeased by a letter, addresed to the queen, which was found open on the toilet of the princess. It was never brought to the queen ; ^ yet its discovery some- what allayed the storm which suddenly raged around her, for a furious mob had collected in the streets, vowing that Whitehall should be plucked down, and the queen torn to pieces, if she did not give up the princess Anne^ The letter was published in the Gazette next day by the partisans of Anne. It has been infinitely admired by those Tvho have never compared it with the one she wrote to the prince of Orange on the same subject : — “ The Princess Anne of Denmark to the Queen of James II. “ Madam, (Found at the Cockpit, Nov. 26.) ‘‘ I beg your pardon if I am so deeply affected with the surprising news of the princds [George of Denmark] being gone as not to be able to see you, but to leave this paper to express my humble duty to the king and yourself^ and to let you know that I am gone to absent myself to avoid the kinfs displeasure, which I am not able to bear, either against the prince or myself; and I shall stay at so great a distance, as not to return till I hear the happy news of a reconcilement. And as I am confident the prince did not leave the king with any other design than to use all possible means for his preservation, so I hope you will do me the justice to believe that I am uncapable of following him for any other end. Never was any one in such an unhappy condition, so divided be- tween duty to a father and a husband ; and therefore I know not what I must do, but to follow one to preserve the other. I see the general falling-off of the nobility and gentry, who avow to have no other end than to prevail with the king to secure their religion, which they saw so much in danger from the violent councils of the priests, who, to promote their own religion, did not care to what dangers they exposed the king. I am fully persuaded that the prince of Orange designs the king’s safety and preservation, and hope all things may be composed without blood- shed, by the calling of a parliament. God grant an happy end to these troubles, and that the king’s [James II.] reign may be prosperous, and that I may shortly meet you in per- fect ppace and safety ; till when, let me beg of you to continue the same favourable opinion that you have hitherto had of “ Your most obedient daughter and servant, “ Anne.” ^ 1 Memoirs of James II. The king men- tions this letter, but declares neither he nor the queen ever saw it, except in the public prints; the name of Anne's nurse is printed Russ : Lewis Jenkins, one of her felJov/-ser- vanls, calls her ffatt. 2 Lansdowne Papers, apparently the origi- nal, as it is indorsed with the name, Anne, in Italic capitals, very much resembling her own autograph. The paper is very old and yellow ; it has never been folded. 511 i688.] Anne's letter w the prince of Orange, One historian chooses to say that Anne had been beaten by her step- mother previously to the composition of this letter. Yet immediately beneath his assertion he quotes its conclusion, being an entreaty to the queen, ^ ending with this sentence, “ let me beg of you to continue the same favourable opinion that you have hitherto had of your obedient daughter and servant, Anne.” Now, people seldom express favourable opinions of those whom they heat, and still seldomer do the beaten per- sons wish those who beat them to continue in the same way of thinking concerning themselves. It is a curious fact, that the princess Anne should write two letters on the same subject, entirely opposite in profession, convicting herself of shameless falsehood, and that they should both he preserved for the elucidation of the writer’s real disposition : — “ The Princess Anne to the Prince of Orange. “ The Cockpit, November 18. “ Having on all occasions given you and my sister all imaginable assurances of the real friendship and kindness I have for you l)oth, I hope it is not necessary for me to repeat anything of that kind ; and on the subject you have now wrote to me, I shall not trouble you with many compliments, only, in short, to assure you that you have my wishes for your good success in this so just an undertaking ; and I hope the 'prince 2 'will soon be with 'you, to let you see his readiness to join ivith you, who, I am sure, will do you all the service that lies in his power. He went yesterday with the king towards Salisbury, intending to go from thence to you as soo7i as his friends thought proper, I am not yet cer- tain if I shall continue here, or remove into the city. That shall depend upon the advice my friends will give me ; but wherever I am, I shall he ready to show you how much 1 am “ Your humble servant, “ Anne.” ^ A report prevailed among the people, in excuse for Anne’s conduct, that her father had transmitted orders to arrest and send her to the Tower on the previous day,^ hut this plea she dared not urge for herself, as may he seen in her farewell letter. By the perusal of the last-quoted letter, which was written before the one addressed to the queen, all the sentiments of conflicting duties, of ignorance and innocence regarding her husband’s intention of departure, are utterly exploded. As for any * Echard. Her husband, George of Denmark. In king William’s box at Kensington ; found there and published by Sir John Dal- rymple, Appendix, p. 333. 4 Contemporary letter, indorsed “To the latiy Margaret Russell, Wobum-abbey (Wo- bui-n bag),” among family papers of his grace the duke of Devonshire, copied, by kind per- mission, July 2, 1846. In the course of this MS. the writer affirms, that “ previously to the escape of the prince and princess of Den- mark, lord Fevershara had been on his knees two hours entreating the king to arrest lord Churchill; but the king would not believe anything against him.” 512 ' 3 Iary II. [1688. | y tenderness regarding, the safety of her unfortunate father, or pretended ■' mediation between him and the prince of Orange, a glance over the ! genuine emanations of her mind in her preceding correspondence will show that she never alluded to king James excepting to aggravate his errors. So far from the desertion of the prince of Denmark being nn- - known to her, it was announced by her own pen eight days before it took place. It would have been infinitely more respectable, had the prince and princess of Denmark pursued the path they deemed most conducive to their interests without any grimace of sentiment. As for profaning the church of England for one moment, by assuming that devotion to its principles inspired the tissue of systematic falsehoods which polluted the mind of the princess Anne, it is what we do not intend to do. The conduct of those who were the true and real dis- ciples of our church will soon be shown, though a strait and thorny path they trod, which led not to this world’s honours and prosperity. James II. arrived in London soon after the uproar regarding the departure of his daughter had subsided. He was extremely ill, having been bled four times in the course of the three preceding days, which was the real reason of his leaving the army.^ He expected to be con- soled by some very extraordinary manifestation of duty and affection from the princess Anne, and when he heard the particulars of her de- sertion, he struck his breast, and exclaimed, “ God help me ! my own children have forsaken me in my distress.” Still he expressed the utmost anxiety lest his daughter, whose state he supposed was pre- carious, should in any way injure herself. From that hour, James II. lost all hope or interest in his struggle for regality. His mind was overthrown .2 In fact, civil wars have taken place between kinsmen, brothers, nephews, and uncles, and even between fathers and sons ; but history produces only two other instances of warfare between daughters and fathers, and of those instances many a bitter comparison was after- wards drawn. James himself was not aware how deeply his daughter Anne was concerned in all the conspiracies against him ; he lived and died utterly unconscious of the base letters she wrote to her sister, or ot that to the prince of Orange, announcing to him her husband’s intended flight. He expresses his firm belief that she acted under the control of her husband,^ and by the persuasions of lady Churchill and lady Berkeley. The prince of Orange moved forward from the west of England, giving out that it was his intention to prove a mediator between James II. and his people, and thus inducing many of the most loyal subjects of the crown to join him for that purpose. Lord Clarendon, his wife’s ; uncle, met him at Salisbury, where his head-quarters were, in hopes of ' * See the Life of his consort, queen Mary Beatrice ^ Dalrymple’s Appendix. 2 Ibid, ^ : ! 1 i 688 .] Deception of the pincess Anne, 613 assisting at an amicable arrangement. Prince George of Denmark was still with the Dutch army : to him lord Clarendon instantly went. The prince asked him news of king James, and also “ when his princess went away ? and who went with her ?” ^ “ Of which,” says lord Clarendon, “ I gave him as particular an account as I could.” Prince George said, “ I wonder she went not sooner.” Lord Clarendon observed, “ that he wished her journey might do her no harm.” Everyone supposed that the princess Anne was within a few weeks of her accouchement. The next reply of the prince convinced him that this was really a deception, although constantly pleaded in excuse to her father when he had required her presence at the birth of the prince of Wales, or any other attend- ance due to the queen. The princess Anne had actually herself prac- tised a fraud nearly similar to that of which she falsely accused her unfortunate step-mother. That accusation must have originated in the propensity for imposition which pervaded her mind. Her uncle was struck with horror when her husband told him that the princess had not been in any state requiring particular care. His words are, “ This startled me. Good God ! nothing but lying and dissimulation. I then told him ‘ with what tenderness the king had spoken of the princess Anne, and how much trouble of heart he showed when he found that she had left him but to this, prince George of Denmark answered not one word.” ^ The prince of Orange advanced from Salisbury to Oxford, and rested at Abingdon, and at Henley-on-Thames received the news that king James had disbanded his army; that the queen ^ had escaped with the prince of Wales to France, and that king James had departed, secretly from London, on the night of December 11, at which the prince of Orange could not conceal his joy. The prince of Denmark remained in Oxford to receive the princess his wife, who made a grand entry in military state, escorted by several thousand mounted gentlemen, who, with their tenants, had mustered in the mid-counties to attend her. Compton bishop of London, her tutor, had for some days resumed his old dress and occupation of a military leader, and rode before her with his purple flag.'* The princes^ Anne and her consort remained some days at Oxford, greatly feasted and caressed by their party. Meantime, the prince of Orange approached the metropolis no nearer than Windsor, for the unfortunate James II. had returned to White- hall. The joy manifested by his people at seeing him once more, alarmed his opponents. The prince of Orange had moved forward to Sion- house, Brentford, from whence he despatched his Dutch guards to expel his uncle from Whitehall. It seems, neither Anne nor his sons-in-law cared to enter the presence of James again, and they would not approach the 1 Diary of lord Clarendon. 3 Por those part iculars, see Life of Mary 2 Ibid. Beatrice of Modena. ^ Anbrej". VOL. V. 2 L 514 Mary IL [ibss. metropolis till he had been forced out of it. The next day, the prince of Orange made his entry into London without pomp, in a travelling- carriage drawn by post-horses, with a ( loak-bag strapped at the back of it.^ He arrived at St. James’s-palace about four in the afternoon, and retired at once to his bedchamber. Bells were rung, guns were fired, and his party manifested their joy at his arrival, as the Jacobites had done when the king returned. The prince and princess of Denmark arrived on the evening of the 19th ol December from Oxford, and took up their abode as usual at the Cockpit.^ No leave-taking ever passed between the princess Anne and her un- fortunate father ; they had had their last meeting in this world, spoken their last words, and looked upon each other for the last time, before his reverse of fortune occurred. No effort did Anne make, cherished and indulged as she had ever been, to see her father ere he went forth into exile for ever. Yet there had never arisen the slightest disagree- ment between them, no angry chiding regarding their separate creeds ; no offence had ever been given her but the existence of her hapless brother. Had she taken the neutral part of retirement from the public eye while he was yet in England — ill, unhappy, and a prisoner, her conduct could not have drawn down the contemptuous comment which it did from an eye-witness : “ King James was carried down the river in a most tempestuous evening, not without actual danger : and while her poor old father was thus exposed to danger, an actual prisoner under a guard of Dutchmen, at that very moment his daughter, the princess Anne of Denmark, with her great favourite, lady Churchill, both covered with orange ribands, went in one of his coaches, attended by his guards, triumphant to the playhouse.” ® It was on the same stormy night that James II. escaped from the Dutch guards, and withdrew to France.'* The conduct of the princess Anne at this crisis is recorded with utter indignation by her uncle, Henry earl of Clarendon. “ In the after- noon of January the 17th, I was with the princess Anne. I took the liberty to tell her that many good people were extremely troubled to find that she seemed no more concerned for her father’s misfortunes. It was noticed that, when the news came of his final departure from the country, she was not the least moved, but called for cards, and was as 1 MS. inedited Stepney Papers ; likewise letter of Horace Walpole the elder, to his brother, Sir Robert Walpole. Toe words of the latter are worth quoting. When Stan- hope, the English ambassador from queen Anne, was urging the reluctant Charles of Austria to press on to Madrid and seize the Spanish crown, after one of Peterborough’s brilliant victories, “the German prince ex- cused himself, because his equipages were not ready. Stanhope replied, ‘ The prince of Orange entered London, in 1688, in a corch and four, with a cloak-bag tied behind it, and a few weeks after was crowned king of Great Britain.’ ” 2 Clarendon Diary. 3 Bevil Higgon. The Devonshire MS. pre- viously quoted confirms the fact, that the ladies in the household of Anne at that time wore orange-colour as a party-badge. Anne herself, in her picture at the Temple, is dressed in orange and green, the colours of her brother-in-law’s livery. See Life of his consort, Mary Beatrice. i688.J Her uncle expostulates with Anne. 515 merry as she used to be.” To this Anne replied, “ Those who made such reflections on her actions did her wrong ; but it was true that she did call for cards then, because she was accustomed to play, and that she never loved to do anything that looked like an affected constraint.” “ And does your royal highness think that showing some trouble for the king your father’s misfortunes could be interpreted as an affected constraint ?” was the stern rejoinder from her uncle. I am afraid,” he continued, “ such behaviour lessens you much in the opinion of the world, and even in that of your father’s enemies. But,” adds he, in comment, ‘‘ with all this, she was not one jot moved.” ^ Clarendon demanded whether she had shown his letter, written to her in his grief on his son’s desertion from her father.' The princess said, “ No ; she had burnt it as soon as read.” But her uncle pressed the matter home to her, “ because,” he said, “ the contents were matter of public discourse.” The princess replied, “ She had shown the letter to no one ; but she could not imagine where was the harm, if she had.” “ I am still of the saiuA opinion as when it was written,” observed her uncle. “ I think that my son has done a very abominable action, even if it be viewed but as a breach of trust ; but if your royal highness repeats all that is said or written to you, few people will tell you anything.” 2 The princess turned the discourse with complaining “ That his son never waited on prince George, which was more necessary now than ever, since the prince had no one but him of quality about him ; that she had reproved lord Cornbury herself, but he took so little heed of it, that at one time she thought of desiring him to march off, and leave room for somebody else ; but that, as it was a time that the family seemed oppressed, sfie had no mind to do a hard thing.” The oppression she meant was, when James II. had dismissed Clarendon and her other uncle from their em- ployments, on account of their attachment to the chui-ch of England. Her uncle drily returned thanks for her gracious intimation, observing, “ That his son, though he often complained of hardship put upon him, was to blame for neglecting his duty.” The princess stated “ That the prince her husband was at a great loss for some persons of quality about him ; that he had thoughts of taking lord Scarsdale again, but that he proved so pitiful a wretch, that they would have no moi-e to do with him.” — “ I asked,” said lord Clarendon, “ whom he thought to take ?” The princess said, “ Sir George Hewett.” Clarendon observed 1 Clarendon Diary, ceived where their steps directed, they cried 2 Tlie regiinenis said to desert with Corn- aloud and halted, putting ail into complete bury, according to Burnet’s MS. letter (Har- confusion.” These officers, Dr. Burnet de- leian), were three ; one of them, the dragoons dared, “ were papists but whatsoever tliey commanded by lord Cornbury. another was weie, they drew off lialf Ccjrnbury's own regi- Berwick’> regiment, late the earl of Oxford s, ment, chief part of St. Albans’, and all Ber- and the third the duke of St. Albans’. “ Lord wick's but fifty horsemen, and turned back to Cornbury marched them off towards the king James under the command of Cornbury's prince of Orange’s camp ; but when day major. •law lied, and the officers and their men per- 2 L 2 516 Mary II. [ 1688 . to the princess Anne, that “ Sir George was no nobleman. ‘ He might be made one when things are settled,’ said the princess, ‘ and she hoped such a thing would not be denied to the prince her husband and her.’ I asked her ‘ how that could be done without king James ?’ ‘ Sure !’ replied the princess Anne, ‘ there will be a way found out at one time or other.’ ” ^ Sir George Hewett, it will be remembered, was the man who had deserted with lord Churchill, and was implicated in the scheme for either seizing or assassinating the king her father. Lord Clarendon, when he visited the Dutch head-quarters, had bluntly asked lord Churchill “ whether it was a fact ?” who, with his usual graceful and urbane manner, and in that peculiar intonation of voice which his con- temiX)rary, lord Dartmouth, aptly describes as soft and whining, pro- nounced himself “ the most ungrateful of mortals, if he could have perpetrated aught against his benefactor, king James.” A convention of the lords and some of the members who had been returned in the last parliament of Charles II. were then on the point of meeting, to settle the government of the kingdom. In this convention Bancroft, the archbishop of Canterbury, positively refused to sit, or to acknowledge its jurisdiction. The earl of Clarendon was anxious to dis- cuss with the princess Anne the flying reports of the town, which went with Burnet, quoted as authority, “ that the crown was to be settled on the prince of Orange and his wife ; but that in case the latter died first, leaving no issue, the crown was to belong to him for his life, before it descended, in the natural succession, to the princess Anne and her children.” Clarendon was indignant at this proposed innovation on the hereditary monarchy of the British government, and endeavoured to rouse the princess Anne to prevent any interpolation between her and her rights of succession. To which she replied, “ That she had heard the rumours that the prince and princess of Orange were to be crowned, but she was sure she had never given no occasion to have it said that she consented to any such a thing ; that she had indeed been told that Dr. Burnet should talk of it, but she would never consent to anything that should be to the prejudice of herself or her children. She added, that she knew very well that the republican party were very busy, but that she hoped that the honest party would be most prevalent in the convention, and not suffer wrong to be done to her.” Clarendon told the princess, “ That if she continued in the mind she seemed to be in, she ought to let her wishes be known to some of both houses before the meeting of the convention.” Anne replied, “ she would think of it, and send for some of them.”^ Her uncle then turned upon her with a close home question, which was “whether she thought that her father could be justly deposed To this the princess Anne replie 1, “ Sure ! they are too great points for me to meddle with. I am sorry 1 Clarendon Diary. * Ibid. i688.] Momentous question of the royal succession, 517 the king brought things to such a pass as they were at adding, “ that she thought it would not be safe for him ever to return again.” Her uncle asked her the question fiercely, “ What she meant by that.?” To which Anne replied, “ Nothing.” ^ Without repeating several charac- teristic dialogues of this nature, which her uncle has recorded, the princess Anne intrusted him with a sort of commission to watch over her interests in the proceedings of the convention. She likewise penned a long letter of lamentations to her uncle on the wrong she found that the convention meant to perpetrate against her ; she, however, bade him burn the letter. The postponement of succession to the prince of Orange (supposing the prince of Wales was for ever excluded) encroached not much on the tenderness due to that adorable idol, self. Very improbable it was that a diminutive asthmatic invalid, like the prince of Orange, irrepressibly bent on war, ten years of age in advance withal, should survive her majestic sister, who had, since she had been acclimatized to the air of Holland, enjoyed a buxom state of health. There was, nevertheless, a tissue of vacillating diplomacy attempted by Anne : she used a great deal of needless falsehood in denial of the letter she had written to her uncle when she supposed he had burnt it, and resorted to equivocation when he produced it, to the confusion of herself and her clique.^ . As a retreat from the awful responsibility perpetually represented to her by her uncle, Anne at last declared “ she would be guided regarding her conduct by some very pious friends, and abide by their decision.” The friends to whom she appealed were Dr. Tillotson, and Eachel lady Kussell.® Dr. Tillotson had been an enemy to James II. from an early period of his career, and had been very active in promoting the revolu- tion ; as for lady Kussell, it was no duty of hers to awaken in the mind of Anne any affectionate feeling to James II. Both referees arbitrated according to the benefit of their party, and advised Anne to give place to her brother-in-law in the succession. Although the princess Anne had thus made up her mind, the national convention were far from resolved. The situation of the countiy was rather startling, the leader of a well- disciplined army of 14,000 foreign soldiers, quartered in or about London, was actually in possession of the functions of government. When the convention had excluded the un- conscious heir, it by no means imagined a necessity for further innova- ting on the succession by superseding the daughters of James II., who had not offended them by the adoption of an obnoxious creed ; and well did the clergy of the church of England know that the belief of the prince of Orange, if he had any, was as inconsistent with their worship as that of James. Besides that discrepancy, William’s personal hatred to the rites of our church has been shown by Dr. Hooi)er, who has, more- 1 Clarendon Diary. 2 HjU. 3 Birch’s Life of Dr. Tillotson. 518 Mary II, [ib88. over, recorded the vigorous kick he bestowed on the communion- table prepared in the chapel of his princess. Some of the members of the convention were startled at the fearful evils attendant on a crown elective, which, as the history of Poland and the German empire fully proved, not only opened doors, but flood-gates to corruption. When they subsequently sought the line of Hanoverian princes as their future sovereigns, the English parliament recognised the hereditary principle, by av/arding the crown to the next lineal heir willing to practice and protect the national religion ; but when they gave the crown to William III., they repudiated two heiresses who were already of the established church, and thus rendered, for some years, the crown of Great Britain elective. Before this arrangement was concluded, the princess Anne began to feel regret for the course she had pursued. Lord Scars- dale, who was then in her household, heard her say at this juncture, “ Now am I sensible of the error I committed in leaving my father and making myself of a party with the prince, who puts by my right.” ^ The day the throne was delared vacant by the convention of parliament. Sir Isaac Newton (then Mr. Isaac Newton) was visiting archbishop San- croft ; what feeling the great astronomer expressed at the news is not re- corded, but the archbishop showed deep concern, and hoped proper atten- tion would be paid to the claims of the infant prince of Wales, saying “ that his identity might be easily proved, as he had a mole on his neck at his birth.” Perhaps king William was not pleased with the visit of Newton to Lambeth at this crisis, since a tradition is afloat on the sea of anecdotes, that some of his council wishing him to consult Isaac Newton on a point of difficulty, the king replied, “ Pooh ! he is only a philo- sopher; what can he know?”^ The demeanour of William of Orange at this juncture was perfectly inexplicable to the English oligarchy sitting in convention; reserved as he ever was to his princess, he was wrapped in tenfold gloom and taciturnity when absent from her. The Plnglish magnates could not gather the slightest intimation of his mind whilst he was wrapped in this imperturbable fit of sullenness. They applied to the Dutchmen to know what ailed their master, and from Fagel and Zulestein they gathered that his highness was afflicted with an access of political jealousy of his submissive partner, whom the con- vention considered queen-regnant, for his reply was “ that he did not choose to be gentleman-usher to his own wife.” ® On the annunciation of this gracious response, the English oligarchy returned to reconsider their verdict Some deemed that the introduction of a foreigner, the ruler of a country the most inimical to the English naval power, and to the mighty colonies and trading factories newly planted by James II. in every quarter of the world, was a bitter alter- 1 Ualph's History. Ralph affirms that Lord 2 Birch’s Life of Tillotson. Scarsiialc repeated this speech to him. ^ Burnet. 519 i688.] Jealous gloom of William. native forced on them by the perverse persistance of their monarcli in his unfortunate religion ; but they were by no means inclined to disin- herit Mary, the Protestant heiress, and render their monarchy elective by giving her husband the preference to her. There was a private con- sultation on the subject held at the apartments of William Herbert, at St. James’s-palace. William’s favourite Dutchmen were admitted to this con- clave, which was held round Herbert’s bed, to which he was then con- fined with a violent fit of the gout. Bentinck there deliberately aveiTed that it was best only to allow the princess Mary to take the rank of queen- consort, and not of queen-regnant. When the gouty patient heard this opinion, he became so excessively excited, that, forgetting his lameness, he leaped out of bed, and, seizing his sword, exclaimed, that “ If the prince of Orange was capable of such conduct to his wife, he would never draw that for him again !” ^ The Dutch favourite carried the incident to his master, who was forthwith plunged still deeper in splenetic gloom. When he at last spoke, after a s])ace of several days of profound taci- turnity, he made a soliloquy in Dutch to this purport, that “He was tired of the English. He would go back to Holland, and leave their crown to whosoever could catch it.” After he had thus spoken, William ff Orange relapsed into silence. The revolution seemed at a stand. Whilst he remains in this ungracious state of temper, which, to the consternation of the English oligarchy lasted some weeks, we will take wing to Holland, and gather intelligence concerning his absent con- sort. General history maintains a mysterious silence regarding the manner in which the princess of Orange spent her days whilst England was lost by her sire and won by her spouse. The readers of the printed tomes of her political and spiritual adviser. Dr. Burnet, are forced to rest con- tented with the information that she went four times daily to public prayers at the Hague, “with a very composed countenance.” The princess, however, contrived to mingle some other occupations with her public exercise of piety. For instance, she was engaged in cultivating a strong intimacy with the fugitive earl of Sunderland at this dim period of her biography. He had just taken refuge, .under her protection, from the rage of the English people. As Sunderland had for the more effectual betrayal of her father affected to become a convert to Romanism, and now offered to adopt the tenets of Calvin, the princess put him to be purified under the care of a friend and councillor of her own, who is called by her contemporary, Cunningham, “ Gervas, the Dutch prophet.” 2 Whether he were the same prophet who earned the title by foretelling to her royal highness the subsequent exaltation of herself and husband to the throne of England, cannot precisely be ascertained ; but she assuredly had her fortune told while her husband was invading her 1 Sheffield duke of Buckingham. 2 Cunningham’s History of Great Britain. 520 Mary II, father, because she informed Burnet ^ how every circumstance predicted had proved true when she afterwards arrived in England. The employ- ment of privately peeping into futurity while her husband was effecting the downfall of her father, forms an odd contrast to her public partici- pation in prayer four times daily. Other supernatural indications were communicated to the princess regarding the success of the invasion, by the less objectionable channel of the dream of lady Henrietta Campbell, the wife of a refugee from the Argyle insurrection. The night after the last sailing of the expedition, lady Henrietta dreamed that the prince of Orange and his fleet arrived safely on the coast of England, but that there was a great brazen wall built up to oppose them. When they landed, and were endeavouring to scale it, the wall came tumbling down, for it was entirely built of bibles.^ The lady forthwith told her dream to the princess of Orange and lady Sunderland, who were both, as she says, much taken with it The tale, from an author puerile and false as Wodrow, deserves little attention ; but from the evidence it appears that lady Sunderland was in familiar intercourse with the princess of Orange, and located with her as early as November 1, 1688. The princess was soon after earnestly engaged in negotiating by letter to her spouse the return of her friend the reconverted Sunderland.® Most willingly would William of Orange have received him, but, unfortunately, the great body of' the English people manifested a degree of loathing against the serviceable revolutionist, which he deemed dangerous. The family junta of Villiers, ever surrounding the princess of Orange in her own domestic establishment were reduced by death just as the Dutch party became triumphant in England. Anne Villiers, the wife of Ben- tinck, died soon after the prince of Orange landed at Torbay,* but Lady Inchiquin, madame Buissars, and the mistress of the prince of Orange, Elizabeth Villiers, still foraied part of the household of the princess in Holland. Meantime, the taciturn obstinacy of the prince of Orange in England fairly wearied out the opponents to his independent royalty. He knew that the English nobility who had effected the revolution were placed in an awkward position, and that, in fact, they would be forced to perform his will and pleasure. His proceedings are thus noted by an eye-witness : “ Access to him was not very easy. He listened to all that was said, but seldom answered. This reservedness continued several weeks, during which he enclosed himself at St. James’s.® One day he told the marquis of Halifax, and the earls of Shrewsbury and Danby, his mind in this speech : “ The English,” he said, “ were for putting the princess Mary singly on the throne, and were for making him reign by her courtesy. 1 Burnet’s MSS., Harleian MSS. * Clarendon Diary. 2 VVodrow’s Analecta. 3 Cunningham’s History of Pmgland. 5 Sheffield duke of Buckingham. 521 i688.j The question of the royal succession decided No man could esteem a woman more than he did the princess ; hut he was so made, that he could not hold anything hy apron strings^ ^ This gentlemanly speech plunged the English nobles into more perplexity than ever, from which, according to his own account, they were relieved by Dr. Burnet. He came forward as the guide of Mary’s conscience, and her confidant on the knotty point, and promised, in her name, “that she would prefer yielding the precedence to her husband in regard to the succession, as well as in every other affair of life.” Lord Danby did not wholly trust to the evidence of Burnet. He sent the princess of Orange a narrative of the state of affairs, assuring her, “ that if she considered it proper to insist on her lineal rights, he was certain that the convention would persist in declaring her sole sovereign.” The princess answered, “ that she was the prince’s wife, and never meant to be other than in subjection to him, and that she did not thank any one for setting up for her an interest divided from that of her husband.’ Not content with this answer, she sent Danby’s letter and proposals to her spouse in England.^ The national convention of lords and commons then settled, that the prince of Orange was to be offered the dignity of king of England, Fraiice, and Ireland (Scotland being a separate kingdom) ; that the princess, his wife, was to be offered the joint sovereignty ; that alh^egal acts were to be effected in their united names, but the executive power was to be invested in the prince. No one explained why the English convention thought proper to legislate for France and Ireland, while, at the same time, it left to Scotland the privilege of legislating for itself. The succession was settled on the issue of William and Mary ; if that failed, to the princess Anne and her issue ; and if that failed, on the issue of William by any second wife ; and if that failed, on whomsoever the parliament thought fit.® The elder portion of the English revolutionists were happy to find affairs settled in any way, but the younger and more fiery spirits, who had been inspired by romantic enthusiasm for the British heiress and a female reign, began to be tired of the revolution, and disgusted with the sullen selfishness of its hero. Their discontent exhaled in song : — “ All hail to the Orange ! my masters, come on, 111 tell you what wonders he for us has done : He has pulled down the father, and thrust out the son. And put by the daughters, and filled up the throne With an Orange !” ■* The prince of Orange, after the settlement was made to his own satis- 1 SheflBeld duke of Buckingham. 2 Tindal’s Continuation. 3 Burnet and Rapin. 4 Contemporary MS. from the library of the Stuart-palace at Rome. It consists of the popular political songs of the English revolu- tion, and was presented to the great English VOL. V. artist, Sir Robert Strange, by the chevalier St. G eorge, whose armorial insignia are on the binding. The voluhae preserves many curious trait) of the people utterly lost to history. The author has been favoured, by the present accomplished lady Strange, with the loan of the manuscript. 2 M 522 Mary II. [1699 taction, permitted his consort to embark for England ; she had been ostensibly detained in Holland, while the succession was contested, by frosts and contrary winds. It is said that Mary was so infinitely beloved in Holland, that she left the people all in tears when she embarked, February 10, to take possession of the English throne. She burst into tears herself, on hearing one of the common people express a wish “ that the English might love her as well as those had done whom she was leaving.” The embarkation of the princess took place at the Brill. The evening when the news arrived in London that the Dutch fleet, escorting the princess of Orange, was making the mouth of the Thames, the metropolis blazed with joyous bonfires. The pope, notwithstanding his deep enmity to James II., was burnt in effigy ; he was provided with a companion, the fugitive father Petre. These were accompanied by a representative of the rival of the princess of Orange in the succession to the British throne, even the image of her poor little infant brother — the first time, perhaps, that a baby of six months old was ever executed in effigy. END OP VOL. V. IvONDON : PRINTED BY W. CLOWES AND SONS SrAUlFOltD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.