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LIVES OF
THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND.

VOK V.

LIVES OF

FBOM TEE NORMAN CONQUEST.

AGNES STRICKLAND.

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VOL. V.

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ELECTRONIC VERSION

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LOKIKIK: FRIKTMR BY W. CLOWKC AKl> iKS, STAMFOHV WKKW
AM) OHAKING CKOSK.

CONTENTS.

MARY BEATRICE OF MODENA,

QUEEN-CONSORT OF JAMES THE SECOND, KING OF GREAT BRITAIN
AND IRELAND.

FAGI

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 111 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 niglit Embarks at Gravesend Stormy voyage Lands at Calais-T-Sym-
puthy of the governor Her letter to Louis XIV. Her anxiety touching the fate of
her husband Alarming rumours on that subject . C

vi Contents.

PA.G1

CHAPTER VI. 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 XIV. at Chatou His courteous
welcome Magnificent reception at St. Germains Arrival of king James Their
meeting Courtesies of Louis XIV. First court of Mary Beatrice at St. Germains
She visits the dauphiness Her dress Attentions of Louis XIV. His admiration of
her manners Queen's popularity in the court of France Visits to Versailles 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 XIV. 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 The
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 Destruction of the French fleet Despair and strange conduct of king
James - Melancholy state of the queen James returns to St. Germains Birth of
Uicir youngest child the princess Louisa Christening of the infant princess. . . JC

CHAPTER VII. Maternal happiness of Mary Beatrice Visits Chaillot Her conversa-
tions Her historical reminiscences Her visit of condolence at Versailles 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 XIV. 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 Maintenon Death of Mary
II. 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 130

CHAPTER VIII. 111 health of queen Mary Beatrice Alarming symptoms Princes*
Anne announces death of the duke of Gloucester Letter of Mary Beatrice thereon
Her importunity for Ohaillot Rudeness of madame Maintenon to her Queen's con-
versation with Louis XIV. Visits 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-
voted attendance on his death bed His eulogium on her virtues Violence of her
grief Watches unseen near him Recognition of her son by Ix>uis XIV. as heir to
James II. Queen's touching parting with James II. His death QUEEN'S WIDOW-
HOOD Her son proclaimed James III. at St. Germains Queen's homage to him
She goes to Chaillot Reception there Obsequies of James II. Anecdotes of the
queen's sojourn at Cbaillot She returns to her children at St. Germains Louis
XIV.'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 cabinet at St. Germains In debt to the convent
at Chaillot Her letter thereon 171

GH AFTER 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 Death of king William Accession

Contents. \\\

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 Respect paid to her by Louis XIV. Sickness of her
Bon 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 Lite at St Gennalns Merry pilgrims Royal hay-makers
Carnival at St. Germains 21 6

CHAFFER 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 tails 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 tbe 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 Their 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 XL 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 self-denial The
Jacobite quaker His nattering predictions Visit from the marquis de Torcy
Dejection caused by his communication Her want of secrecy Knglish 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-
bourgInterest 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 300

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 1716 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 suspense Conflicting rumours of successes and defeats

vivi Contents.

PA31

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.
Sermains Compelled to leave her His inconsiderate conduct Maternal anxiety of
the queen Her son's rupture with Bolingbroke Queen offers to mediate Boling-
liroke'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 for her ladies Her death General
lamentations at St. Germains Funereal honours Refuge granted to her ladies Her
apartment at SL Germains Traditions of the place Her portrait in old age . . 355

MARY II.

QUEEN-REGNANT OF GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND.

CHAPTER 1. Love-match of queen Mary's parents Its unpopularity Birth of lady
Mary of York (queen Mary II.) Nursery at Twickenham-palace Fondm-ss 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 Thw 1 father professes the same faith Their step-
mother, Mary Beatrice of Modenft-*fhe prlowsees 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 ly
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 I,ady
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 Villiers Recep-
tion in Holland Pageants and rejoicings W3

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 IT. 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 VisiU her father in Scotland Her Iff 9

Contents. ix

PACK

for lord Mulgrave Marriage of Anne with prince George of Denmark Appoints
Mre. Churchill to her household Lonely life of the princess of Orange Palace re-
straintMourning 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 II.) 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 priuce 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
Anne at Windsor Introduced to the pope's legate Princess of Orange writes to
archbishop Sancroft Princess Anne's dialogues with her uncle Clarendon Princess
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 Clarendon 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 London 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 11. 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 bun Mary leave*
Holland 492

VOL. V.

1ITES OF THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND.

MAEY BEATRICE OF MODENA,

QUEEN-CONSORT OF JAMES II., KING OF GEEAT BRITAIN.

CHAPTER IV.

MARY BEATRICE was an attendant on the deathbed of her royal brother-
in-law, Charles II., and the only person in that room to whom queen
Catharine ventured to speak a word in confidence on his spiritual
affairs. 1 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." 2 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 be 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." 8

The same moment that certified the fact that Charles II. had ceased
to breathe, saw every knee bent in homage to the calumniated duke of
York, while every voice united in crying, " God save king James II."
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 th
ganzu, vol. iv. p. 4b6. archives of the kingdom of France; CiuuUot

2 Letter to the rev. Francis Roper, in Sir collection.
Uenry Kllis's Letters, lirt Beria>,voL iii. p. 337.

VOL. V. B

2 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1635.

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." 1 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. J 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 her-
self so decently upon all occasions since she came into England, which
made her universally beloved." 3 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 of
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
in Europe. Mary Beatrice received and entertained her court, seated
under a mourning canopy of state, with a black loot-cloth. She per-

1 Journal of James II. Echard. Lingard, &c. are to be read with caution, to observe that

2 All the former animosities seemed to be bishop Burnet positively affirms that few-
forgot ten amidst the loud acclamations of his tears were shed for the former [Charles II.],
people O'i his accession to the throne. Well- nor were there any shouts of joy for the pre-
wuod's Memoirs, p. 154. "I was present," sent king [James II.]; whereas I, who was
says the celebrated nonconformist minister, at that time actually present, can bear wit-
Eiimund Calamy, " upon the spot at the pro- ness to the contrary. The bl>hop, indeed,
claiming king James at the uppt-r end of who was then abre*d might easily be mis-
Wood-strcet In Cheapside, which is one of informed; but methinks lie hou. : not have
those places where proclamation is usually been so positive in a matter of tnat nature
made upon such occasions, and my head when he was at a distance." An Historical
ached at the acclamations made on that occa- Account of My own Life, with some Ke-
gion, which, us far as 1 could observe, were flections on the Times I have lived in; bj
very p'-'irral. And it is to me good evidence Edmund Calamy, D.D. ; vol. i. pp. 116, 11,7.
tba*. ul the Listuriea that fall into our hands 3 Evelyn's Diary, voL ii.

i685.] Queen of Great Britain. 3

formed her part with the grace and 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- twenty, her enemies began
to insinuate the improbability of her bringing heirs to the throne.
James had lour 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." 1 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 sand, " 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."' 2 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 Manciui 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 his prime-minister
and favourite, prince Cesar, a kinsman of their family. " In her
letter of the 26th of February, there are marks of great anger on the
part of the queen of England against prince Cesar," observes our
authority; 3 "and she seems disposed to carry matters with a high

Utters of the Herbert family. * Irvdited MS. in the Archives des Affaire*

* Ibid. Etrangeres de France.

fi 2

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 abbe" Rizzini, 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, tor 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 many ; 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 was 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 king of France, with whom he was at
variance." *

The dangerous position of the duke of Modena' s affairs, in consequence
of his rash quarrel with Louis XIV., and the pains Mary Beatrice had
taken to effect a reconciliation by means of the proposed marriage
(Between him and mademoiselle de Bouillon, cannot excuse the impe-

I Documents in the Archives des Affaires selection, Margarelta Farnese, daighter ot

Etrangeres, by favour of M. Guizot. The Harmed 11., duke of Parma. L'Art de

dnke of Modena resisted the dictation of his Verifier le* Dates.
ro>i sister, and took a consort of hid own

i685.] Otyects to the use of rouge. 5

rious mariner in which she attempted to over-rule 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 1 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." l

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." 2 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 paiut, 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. The
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,
bluntly exclaimed, " Madame, I would rather see your majesty yellow,

l Dalrymple's Appendix, 116. Copied from the original in king William's box, at Ken
rington-palaoe. * Despatches in Fox's Appendix.

6 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [16 S3.

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. 1 The cause that robbed the cheek of the consort of James II. 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. 2 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. 8

The queen, when she learned that her rival was supported by the
king's brothers-in-law, treated them and their ladies with (he 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. 4 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 after

1 MS. Memorials of Mary Beatrice of Mo- The most respectable trait in her father's

dena. character was his indignation, as a gentle-

3 Catharine Sedley was the daughter of mm, at this disgraceful advancement i>f hia

the wify and profligate gentleman author only child. Hence that well-known line of

Sir Charles Sedley : she had been mistress to Dr. Johnson's

igfSf^SSTGS^K "^S ; dley cursed the- form that pleased

except a stately figure : she had a talent for

repartee, coarse enough to be called wit in Her daughter, by the king, married Sheffield

those days. She insisted on the reward for duke of Buckingham.

her vile course of life, which was granted by 3 Mackintosh. l.ingurd,

James, who made her baroness of Darlington * Ibid.

tad coantess ot Dorchester, but only for lift;.

iGss.] 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 hig
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. 1 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 flowing draperies, is seated on a rock in the character ot
Britannia, with an inscription from ^Eneas's address to Venus, o DBA
CERTE.

The proclamations were issued for the coronation of the king and
queea 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 Fountaiuhall, 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
at the expectation of Mary Beatrice taking her proper place in this
im{K>sing 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

N MS. Memorial* of Mary Beatrice, by a bister of Chaillot.

8 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1634.

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. 1 The lord of the
manor of Bardolf, in Addington, Surrey, claimed to find a man to make
a dish of grout 2 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. 8 This claim was disallowed,
because not made out. as regarded the movables; as for the ancient
immunity of the queen-gold, or aurum regince, 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
80,OOOZ. 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 jx>or
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,
having performed her devotions there, she was attired by her ladies of

1 Among some of the curious obsprvances performed by deputy, chosen from among the

connected with the customs of regality in household, and the fees compounded lor 30Z.

the olden time on such occasions, may he British Chronologist.

reckoned the claim of the lord of the manor This dish was that far-famed regal potage,

of Lyston, in Essex, to make wafers for the or delicate white soup, known by the name

king and queen, to serve them up at their of "dillegrnut" at the coronation-banquets of

table, and to have all the instruments of the Norman and Plantagenet sovereigns,

silver and metal, with all the linen used on * British Chronologist

this occasion, with a certain proportion of the * This very elegant crown, or a fac-simile

ingredient* of which tht'sc dainty little cakes of it in shape and design, 1s shown among

were compounded, and living for himself and her majesty queen Victoria's regalia in the

three men. This claim was allowed, the Tower, as the crown with which subsequent

composition and baking of the wafers were queens-consort have been crowned.

i685.] Queen's coronation toilette. 9

the bedchamber, assisted by her women, in her royal robes of purple
velvet, furred wi th 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. 1 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. Eobert
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 Roberts. 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-arme,
followed in solemn state. Their majesties walked in this order from

1 Sandford's Book of the Coronation.

10 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1635,

Westminster-hall, through New Palace-yard, into King-street, and so
through the great Sanctuary to the west door of the abbey, the passage
beiug 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 II. 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 flowers 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 sweetbrier
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 beating a march, the trumpets
sounding levels, and the choir singing, all the way to the church, the
well-known anthem commencing " 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. 1
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 name
of queen, and the sweet recollection that she had caused many to rejoice
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 canopy
and its supporters, and, preceded by her vice-chamberlain and regalia
1 Historic Observes, by Sir John Lauder of FouuuunhalL

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. 1 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 floating on her bosom. Another contemporary quaintly
observes, " the jewels she had on were reckoned worth a million, which
made her shine like an angel." 2 While she stood by her chair of
state, the Westminster scholars greeted her with shouts of Vivat regina
Maria I 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 I 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. 8 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. 4 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 ! r
from those who were so soon to transfer their oaths of allegiance to

1 Sandforrt. Patrick's Diary.

8 Fountainball's Historic Observes. 4 MS. from the family papers of George IV

12 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [ibss.

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
aroh, 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," 1 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. 3 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." 3

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 sma'ler 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 Sancroft placed the crown on her head, the
cries of " Long live the queen !" resounded through the abbey, and were
many times redoubled and prolonged. Then all the peeresses put on
their coronets, and the choir sang that appropriate anthem from the
45th 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 Burnet Echard. 3 MS. Memorials of Mary Beatrice, l>y a

* See his letters in Blencowe's Sidney Cor- sister of Chaillot, in the hdtel de Scjtise.
respondence. Paris.

i6ss.] Queen's devout behaviour. 13

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 stepa
lower (han 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. 1
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. 3 Her majesty returned
from St. Edward'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 Augnste Gargan, p. 91. It is entitled, " Rela-
sister of Chaillot, in the h8tel de Soubise, tioii du Couronnement du Roi Jacques II. et
Paris. de la Reine." The queen is repeatedly men-

2 King's library MS., In French, presented tioned, and the whole is most interesting. II
by George IV. from his family papers. was evidently sent for the information of tha
ifecueil de Pieces, extracted by George royal house of Hanover.

14 Mary Beatrice of Modena.

Cinque-ports ; and thus, guarded on either side by the band of gentle-
men-pensioners, 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. 1 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, with 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 for
his majesty to wash. At the queen's washing, water was appointed
King's library MS. Sandford's Book of the Coronation 2 Ibid.

if.85.] The banquet. 15

to be poured on her majesty'a hands by the earl of Devonshire, hei 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. 1

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 precious 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

1 The king's son by Catharine Sedley died 2 MS. Memorials of Mary Beatrice, by t

on the day of the coronation. 'sister o! Chuillot

16 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1635.

arrangements had been made under the special superintendence of king
James, who ordered a buok to be made of it." 1 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. R., and is, in
consequence, shown as the coronation portrait of queen Anne, to whoso
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
Roman catholics and protestant 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 io
ains a series of highly curious and important which a queen-consort has been associated.
cogiroie illi strations, and has been used as

i685.] King's parade of Romanism. 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 Roches-
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. 1 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, Ifi85. 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, 2 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 Roil* and

1 Barillon's Despatches Evelyn's Diary, vol. ii. p. 598.

VOL. V. C

18 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1635

BO 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 usnal 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 llth 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 Ringwood. 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 him, 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
liim 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

Ring's interview with Monmouth. 1'J

Sir John Bramston, " 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." Monr
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 confidant in the late rebellion. 2

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, who 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

1 Autobiography of Sir John Bramston, 3 Journal of James. Life of James Jl.

edited by lord Bmybrooke. This passage Is Macpherson. Continuation of Mackintosh,

greatly confirmed l>y Sir John Uercsby. llwsby. Lingard. Fox

Journal of Junes II. Sidney Correspond- * Stanier Clarke,
ence, edited by Blencowe.

C *

20 Mary Beatrice of Mode i La. [1635.

without 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 death, 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," saj r s 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, 3 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. 8 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 4 , who made a personal appeal

1 Beresby. Mackintosh. Lingard. conduct in the west of England was dictated

2 The executions in the west of England, by loyalty to the sovereign whom he deserted
after Monmouth's rebellion was put down, and betrayed.

were bloody enough of themselves, without 3 Journal of James II.

the palpable exaggerations and incredible 4 Ken, in accordance with the apostolic

fictions with which they have been embel- beauty of his character, had used the autho-

lished. The butcheries of the inhuman rity of the church in putting a stop to the

Kirke are spoken of by James, in his private military executions of lord Feversham, and

journal, in terms of unqualified indignation afterwards visited the sick and wounded

and disgust; and as Kirke was one of the prisoners, and relieved their bodily and

first to join the prince of Orange, by whom spiritual wants at ihe same time. More

be was highly favoured and constantly em- than a thousand of these unfortunate persons

ployed, it can scarcely be supposed that his received succour in their distress from him.

i<i85.1 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. 1

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 Rapin, Wellwood, Oldmixon, nor Burnet, chronicled the transact
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 thus*
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 mos<t
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, he never once blamed Ken. ' Burnet. See also James's

me for it." Ken's examinations before the own remarks in his Journal

22 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1635.

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
privy council, of a sudden the keeper declared his orders were to bring
him 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 the 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 wag 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
please 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
iis 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, an't please 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 ?' To 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, ana hope that you will not, for the future, 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

1 James and a large body of his sailors hard personally in so doing. See Fepys
were the first that succeeded in stopping the Diary,
progress of the flames ; and he worked very 2 Calamy's Diary.

ib85.] King ordains negro slaves to be baptized.

fifty pages of unsupported praise. Other instances of James's clemency
towards those who had personally injured him ar6 recorded. Fergusson,
who had drawn up Monuiouth'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 n
by exciting a popular feeling of resentment against all members of the
church of Rome 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
forty and fifty thousand of them." 1

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 18th 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. 2 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 convention

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. [i685.

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 Eochester
encouraged his wife to form an ostentatious alliance with Sedley, under
the pretence that it was for the good of the church. 1 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 vigonras 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.

i685.] Queen obtains the dismissal of Catharine Sedley. 25

his own religious profession. 1 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 ; but 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 women 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.
Craggs 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-

1 Burnet. Lingard. Mackintosh. 2 Burnet. Barillon. Lingard. Mackintosh. Reresby.

26 Mary Beatrice of Modenc^ [1635.

poses of sedition, with a dmvvn 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 ? l 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 Killigrew, whom Dryden 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 passion-
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."

Sir James Mackintosh's Posthumous History of the Revolution. Sunderland's letter*
In the State-paper Office. Lingard.

its 5.] Royal hints. 27

This portrait, if in existence, would be a most interesting relic, loth of
the queen and her maid of honour, the learned, fair, and good Anno
Killigvew.

Among the chit-chat details of a contemporary, in a letter, Apri?. 6,
1686, are the following little notices connected with the court of Mary
Beatrice : " 1 imagine your countess of Dorchester will speedily move
hithenvard, for her house 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." 2 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 Brent wood. 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. 8 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 royal

1 Ellis's Correspondence, edited by the hon. George Agar Ellis. * Ibid,

* Autobiography of Sir John Bramston, edited by lord Braybrooke.

28 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [ibss,

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 tact
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 Eockholts. 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's 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

]685.] Grand review and banquet on Hounslow-heath. 29

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 Christian
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. 1

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. 3 The celebration of the mass in lord Dum-
barton's tent gave great offruce to the public.

Mary Beatrice spent the summer at Windsor with the king, whom she
also accompanied on a littlt 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 II., 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
ibrget the services he had rendered them before they came to the throne,
nor should he ever want a friend as 1 long as she lived." On another

1 Ecbard. Mackintosh. Lingard. Journal of King Jarc.<6. Ellis's Correspondence.

30 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [lb85,

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." 1 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 of
her bed cost 3,OOOZ. 2 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 8 from a correspondent
of the lady Margaret Ilussell, 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 e 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
proselytisrn in her own household. She was beloved by her Protestant
ladies, several of whom followed her into exile. Sunderland was cne 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 Cart wright's Diary; published wick-lodge, unpublished ; copied by courteous
by the Camden Society. 8 Evelyn. permission of his grace the late duke of DIJ-

- Collection of private family letters at Chis- vonshire.

i&s6.] Refuses to influence the king to grant places. 31

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 II. , in a Roman 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, 1 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
influeuce. 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. 2 " 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-
laud 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." 3

1 Tobias Rustat had previously had a college, for the orphan sons of the clergy,

statue of Charles IL executed by the same 2 Clarendon Correspondence,

artist nt his expense. His private and public 3 Memoirs of James II. Lingaid. i.ous-

cnunties were most munificent; witness the dale,
which he founded at Jesus'

32 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [i6sG.

Sunderland never forgave his disappointment. Great pains have been
taken to impute the impolitic councils which embroiled James with the
church to his consort ; nothing can he 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." l 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. 2 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 Richmond-palace,
where he left her, and returned to her in the evening. She was fond of
that palace and neighbourhood, asd found the soft air beneficial to a
hectic cough that sometimes harassed her. When she felt disposed to
spend a few days quietly at Eichmond, the king arranged his hunting-
parties in that neighbourhood, and made that palace his headquarters. 3
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 pontificalibus, 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 .Tourn;il, in M:\rpherson.
* Impartial View of Burnet's History. Elli's Correspondence,

ib7'j Friendly letter to the prince of Orange. 33

duke. 1 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 Loim
XIV. ; or, in case he remained obstinately fixed in that alliance, to
assist the confederacy that was plotting to deprive him of his throne. 2

This summer the queen was plunged into the deepest affliction by the
loss of her mother, the duchess of Modeua, who died at Rome, 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 MART BEATWCE TO THE PBINCE OF OBANOE.S

" The friendship you have showed me on all occasions, and the part that I have always
Battered myself you took in my concerns, make me hope I may have a share of your com-
passion in the ureat grief 1 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, 1 find it ease in my affliction to have the pity of one's friends, which makes me
bope for yours at this time; assuring you that, in what condition soever I am, 1 shall always
be, with all sincerity, " Truly yours, M. R."

This frank letter had the effect, which doubtless the royal writer in-
;ended, 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, 4 since an open enemy is at all times less dangerous than a pre-
sided friend. The letters and messages of condolence from the prince

'Mackintosh. Lonsdale. Burnet, &e. the most active instruments in the long-pro

* Smith's History of Kngland, voL ii. p. jected revolution. This was count Zulestein,
42. James himself admits that he hart great an illegitimate brother of his father, a gay
ause of complaint against J/Adda'e political and elegant soldier, who combirn d, with a
onduct. person and manners universally popular with

* Dalrymple's Appendix. the ladies, a degree of long-sighted sagacity
4 The prince of Orange sent his messages of and political acumen scarcely inferior to his

ndolence by a person who proved one of celebrated ancestors, those men of mighty

VOL. V. D

34 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1637.

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 thp continuance of your friendship, which I cannot but think I do deserve a
little, by being, with all the sincerity and affection imaginable, " Truly yours,

M. R." i

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 Robert 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. 2
Eobert Chapman was one of the wealthiest aud 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, 8 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. 4 On the 6th of September, James rejoined his consort at

intellect, William the Liberator, William the nobility, are extant in undoubted autographs.

Silent, and Maurice the Subtle. The letters x Dalrymple's Appendix,

of that period show that the clever but per- 2 Warner's History of Bath. Ward's His-

tidious Zulestein plunged daringly into all the tory of Bach.

plots for the deposition of the royal family, 3 Robert Chapman's Bath Memoirs were in

with whom he had come to condole. Strange existence when Ward compiled his work,

it was that William of Orange left evidences, 4 The cross and inscription commemorative

not only of the cruel and disgusting treachery of the birth of the unfortunate prince whom

he and his agents used in this case, but in bis Mary Beatrice bore nine months after her

box of letters, found after his death at Ken- visit to Bath, were removed after the Revolu-

sington, the irrefragable prods of the kindly tion ; but " the Cross bath " retained the name

intercourse of his betrayed relatives with him and celebrity It had acquired from that cir-

and his wife, and at the same time of the cumstance, and was much used by Udie4

intrigues of his agents with the English desirous of becoming mothers.

1637.] Prospect of the queen becoming a mother. 35

Bath. He found her in greatly 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. 1

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
queen at Bath, and endeavoured to prevail on him to enter into a secret
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. 2 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,
and they returned to Whitehall together on the llth. 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
Guildhall : i,he invitation was also extended to the papal nuncio, who
not only went, but was well received.

By the end of November, it began to be whispered about the court,
that 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
remain long in doubt. James mentions the situation of his consort in a
friendly letter to his daughter Mary, dated November the 29th, and
notices that the queen had informed her of it previously. 8 The fact
was announced by royal proclamation, and in the Gazette of the 23rd
of December, with an order for a day of general thanksgiving. James
appears to have been determined to obtain the benefit of the prayers of
the church of England for the fruition of his hopes, at as early a period
as was consistent with propriety. He commanded the bishops to pre-
pare a suitable form of prayer and thanksgiving for the occasion, to be
read 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. s MS. Bibliotheque du Roi, on Bonrepaux's mission, 1687
8 Inedited letters of James 11. ; Brit. Mus.

D 2

36 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1697.

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 prospect of the queen bringing a male
heir to the crown 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 Romish 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 ou the alleged situation of the queen. 1

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 r.o

1 Journal of James II. Dalrymple. Mackintosh. Ellis Correspondence. Keresby.

1637.] Day 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 or.
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. 1 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." 2

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-
leges which were wrung from the tyrant John by the steel-clad cham-
pions of freedom at Uunnymede. 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 lie persecuted for con-
I Echard. 4 Historic Observes.

38 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1637.

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." 1 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 Romanism 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
headr"' " 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 II.'s speech In council ; Life, vol. ii.

ibs?.] Queen goes on prosperously. 39

Stuart, a Scotch refugee at the Hague, to William's minister, Fagel, for
the purpose of winning his daughter Mary to second his wishes. He not
only got a dry refusal from the princess, but the mortification of seeing
their correspondence published by William. 1

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. 2 " 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." 8 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 Russell,
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. LlngariL Mackintosh. Dal- -whom the document was kindly communU

rymple. cated to me.

* Inedited letter of father Petre to pere la 3 Ibid.

Chaise, purchased at the sale of the Straw. Letters of lady Russell, from the Wobnrn

berry-hill collection by the late lady Petre, by collection.

40 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1687,

wait on the king at his leve'e ; but having nothing to do at court, I
thought it not needful to be 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." 1 The secret correspondence of James's treacherous
favourites, his 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. 2 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 how mightily she is satisfied with it." 8
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." 4 Surely, if the queen had ever com-

1 Diary of Henry Earl of Clarendon. Claren- * letter from Ronrepanx
don Correspondence, vol.iii. ; edited by Singar 3 Dalrymple's Appendix. 4 Ibid

ibss.] Intrigues against the queen. 4.1

initted 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." 1 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. 2

The queen was taken alarmingly ill at the end of seven months, while
the king was gone to Chatham, and'lier 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." 8 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
llth. 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 tc
be a great store of fruit this year. I have no more to say, but that you
shall find me as kind to you as you can expect.

* For my son, the prince of Orange." " JAMES, R.

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

1 See her letters in r>alryrnple's A ppendlx. private papers, liy the Rev. S. Clarke, historic*
* 1 Jfe of James, compiled from his own grapher to George IV, 3 ibid.

42 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1688.

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 I 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." 2 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

i Letters of lady Russell, from the Wobum a See Anne's letters in Dalrymple's Ap
collection, p 177. Ibid., p. 147. pendix, and the originals in Brit. Mas.

i6fcj.] 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." 2 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 Can terbury and six bishops
to the Tower. 4 This unprecedented act of folly was perpetrated on the

1 King James's Journal the evening of May 18. James received them

z Burnet. graciously at first, but took fire, very un-

3 Extracts from James XL's letters. Addi- reasonably, at the language in which the
tional MSS., Brit. Mus. petition was couched, lost his temper, called

4 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 displeasure. In less than 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.

4.4 Mary Beatrice of Jjlodena. [1688.

8th 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 be 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 II. 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 uight 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 Godolphin, 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. 1 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- rather than take the oaths to any other sove-
rage. The prelates denied having supplied reign than James II, 'o whom their allegi-
any one with a copy. James did not believe ance had been sworn. The other two, Lloyd
them, and insisted th it their intention was to of St. Asaph, and Trelawney of Bristol, were
raisi a tumult. They were summoned to deeply confederate with William. Lloyd
appear before the privy council, and, after was the author of some of the base libels
some angry discussion, ordered to find bail tending to discredit the pregnancy of the
for their appearance in Westminster-hall, queen. The copy of the petition was pro-
July 3, to answer to an indictment from the bably furnished by him, on purpose to create
crown for writing and publishing a seditious an open quarrel with the king. It was after-
libel. They refused to find bail, and were wards wittily said, wiih regard to the cba-
committed to the Tower. The warrant for racter and subsequent conduct of these reve-
their committal was signed by four-and- rend prelates, " that king James sent seven
twenty privy councillors, all I'rotestauts. bishops to the Tower to be tested; five of
Bancroft, archbishop of Canterbury, and Ken, them proved to be true gold, and two only
bishop of Bath and Wells, were the most prince's metal."

conscientious and loyal of men. They, with ' Kennpt. Kchard. Impartial Reflection*
White, Turner, and Lake, submitted to the on Burnet's History.
12* of their bees, and all their rich revenues.

ibss.] Ladies summoned to Hie queen. 45

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. 1 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 tubourtt at her
bed's head, trembling, and in some depression of spirits. 3 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. 8 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-Sunday, 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." 6 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

1 Examinations before the Privy Council, Oct. 22, 1688. 2 Ibid. 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. 1 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. 2 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
the 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 ia
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, " Room 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. 8

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 Macpbereon. Wales was the queen's son, as that any of her

* Letter of the princess Anne to her sister own children were hers. Out of zeaf for ihe

the princess of Orange ; Dalrymple's Appen- truth and honour of my mistress," said she,

dix, vol. ii. p. 30?. " I spake in such terms as modesty would

3 Ijady Isabella Wentworth, also a noble scarce let me speak at another time." Depo-

Protestant lady in the queen's household, sitiona before ihe Privy Council, Oct. 22,

verified the birth of the prince, not only be- 16S8. 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 JsaLvlla and Dr. Hickes,

cester, in the presence of Mrs. Margaret Daw- in Magdalen college, Ox:ord.
9011, and even to Burnet himself, whom she

Birth of a prince. 47

and well, and the king said " nothing was the matter with the child." l
In the overflowing transport of his joy for the birth of a living SOD, and
the safety of his queen, James bestowed the accolade of knighthood
0.1 her physician, doctor Walgrave, by her bedside, 8 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 XIV. 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." 8 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-bom 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

1 Depositions before the Privj Council. * Despatches of Barlllon.

Echard * Clarendon's Diary.

48 Mary Beatrice of Hodena.

illness of the precious babe. The royal physicians were Hummoned
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 personal 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. 1 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 that night, and it was her duty to have
watched beside me." 2

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, 3 and giving him mort
physic, while they withheld from him the natural aliment for which he
pined. One of the household, when communicating to 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. 8
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 gentlemen, 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 Braybroobe ; published by tbt

by a sister of Cbaillot, in the hotel de Soubisc, Camden Society.
Paris. * Ellis Correspondence, edited by the hou

Ibid. Agar Kllis.

* Autobiography of Sir John Bramston, 5 Burnet's History of his Own Time.

1688.] Libels on the birth of the prince. 49

Lutheran minister at the Hague, in a conversation with the electress
Sophia 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. 1 He subsequently embodied the substance of tlnv
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 : 3

" 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-pa7i could be
practised without my seeing it, attending constantly in and about the

1 See Burnet's Six Stories, commented upon by Smollett, in his History of Eiglanii.
James II. 2 Dalryinple'b Appendix, vol. li. pp. 311-13.

VoL. V. E

60 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1688.

avenues of the chamber.' Other remoter incidents might be alleged
winch, being of smaller moment, are forborne." l

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, 2 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 PBINCE OF OBANGE.

" 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. I expect every day to hear
what the French fleet 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." 3

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, tbat 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

?.nd 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 Mon-

to wish to strengthen the title which a free tague.

nation had given her, by stooping to avail * $ ee Royal Letters in Ellis's Appendix,

herself of the base fictions of a party against 3 Dalrymple's Appendix,

the deposed sovereign, his queen, and son. 4 Additional MSS. British Museum, No.

So tar was Sophia, electress of Hanover, from 1163, fol. 1.

ibss.j Britannia Rediviva. 51

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. 1 Even the malcontent city of York drank deep potations to the health,
of the king, queen, and prince of Wales, and sent up an address of con-
gratulation by the lord mayor and sheriffs. 8 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 Rediviva, 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 flery 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 inisnt was said to
bear to both :

" 'Tls 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 3 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 :

" Born in broad daylight, that the ungrateful rout
May find no room for a remaining doubt ;
Truth, 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

Co incil Records of Edinburgh, vol. xxxil. 8 This word, in its ancient sense, did not
p. U5. mean " old," but " august," something worthy

* Drake's History of York. of veneration.

52 Mary Beatrice of Modena.

Modcna, must not be forgotten, though somewhat too adulatory for
taodern taste :

" But yon, 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 melts into the brightness of the day."

It is not to be supposed that all the poets of the age imitated tlio
chivalry of " glorious John " and the bards of Oxford, in flinging votive
garlands at the feet of Mary Beatrice, to compliment 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 James : " 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 hi*
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." l

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 was talking to madame la mare'schak
de la Motte, of his own accord told me ' that he would, for joy, order
threescore fusees to be fired.' Madame la mare'schale 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

SVales's health on Thursday last." 2

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-

nnfortunately 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 wirn 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 2 Macpherson's State Papers, vol. i. p. 26i
cret tools of William. He followed his

l688.] A proud and joyful mother. 53

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
aifection in the shape of a purse of gold, were admitted to the honour of
kissing his tiny hand. 1 " 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." 3 " 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 fireworks on the river." 8

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 28th 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. 4 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 lemon" 8 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 ?'" 6 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." 7 The illness
was so dangerous, that the princess Anne condescended to call her brother

1 Ellis Correspondence. Extracts : printed by Sir Henry Ellis, in Li*

* Ibid. * ibid. Royal Letters, first series, vol. iii. p. 348.
4 Gazette. * Clarendon's Diary.

* Datud July 6, 1688. From Dr. Birch's 7 EUix CorrehjwnrlRnoa.

54 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1688.

" the prince of Wales," when communicating to Mary the happy proba-
bility 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. 2 The reason alleged was, the preva-
lence of the smallpox. 8 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 bis 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. 4 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 MABIA D. G. MAG. BBI. FBAN. ET HIB. BEGINA. The
date, 1688, has been, by some carelessness, reversed, and stands thus,
8891. King James is represented in a Koman dress, with long flowing

1 Dabymple's Appendix, 3 Kills Correspondence.

* Letter of princess Ann*. * Ibid. Evelyn.

i688.] Orange intrigues at Rome. 55

hair and a wreath of laurel. The other medal, which is in honour
of the rbyal 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 lable 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 Marys
chapel at the Hague by the title of prince of Wales, 1 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. 2 One of William's agents, a Dutch burgomaster named
Otiir, had been detected at Rome by the French ambassador, cardinal
d'Etre'es, in a secret correspondence with the pope's secretary, count
Cassoni, with 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'Etre'es' agent 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. 8 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 8 See the letters of cardinal d'EtrSes, in
Dalrym pie's Appendix. Burnet. Dalrymple's Appendix.

* Pamphlets ot the times.

66 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 4
of the intelligence was fatally confirmed, that he allowed the latter t<
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 :

KING JAMES TO THE PKINCE 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." 1

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, 3

" 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 tho
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 born to her youthful step-

Dalrymple's Appendix. ibid.

1688.] Precarious healtn of the prince. 57

toother while they lived together in St. James's-palace, and had regarded
them, not as rivals, but beloved playthings ; and the queen could nos
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
born, 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." 1 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 tact, 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 :

MARY 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,

"MAKIA, 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 Hi nry Ellis, in Royal Letters, notes of Mackintosh's History of the Kevolu-
In>t 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, 1 " 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 watter 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 Richmond 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 Richmond." 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 fine experiment," says her majesty, 2 " 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. 3 " 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 P 5
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 Cbail-
intosh's Appendix. lot : MS. in the archives of France.

* Life of King James

1688.] 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." l

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 Tnissiou
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," 2
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 spy 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. MS. Memorials of Mary of Modena,

Cbaillot, in the year 1712, and was introduced archives of the kingdom of France,

by the conversation having turned on the a OUlmixon.
proposed foundation of & hospital at Paris

60 Mary Beatrice of Modena.

fringe of the cradle-quilt." l 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. 2
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. 8

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 ; 4 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 100Z. 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." 5

The queen remained with her boy at Eichmond till the 9th of August,

1 Oldmixon 2 Ibid. * Ellis Correspondence.

* See Smollett's Comments in his History a Ibid,
of England : reign of dames 11.

1&88.] His royal highnesses nurse. 61

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." 1 Many pretty stories of the simplicity and innocency
of this nurse were circulated in the court. 3 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. 3 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 th'e 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 moderns, 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." 4 Kneller had

1 Ellis Correspondence, vol. ii. from Paris to London, he was fully satisfied

* Sir John Bramston's Autobiography. of that which others seemed to doubt, having

3 Political pamphlets and squibs of the perfect knowledge of the lines and features of
time. the faces of both king James and queen

4 Thorne corroborates this account in his Mary. Rawlinson's MSS. in the Bodleian
Diary, and adds that Sir Godfrey Kneller library, Oxford. See, also, Carter's letter in
Mid, in the presence of several persons whose Aubrey, vol. ii. pp. 136, 7, and Thome'*
names he quotes, that on the sight of the Diary.

picture of the prince of Wales that was sent

62 Mary Beatrice of Mudena. [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 answer 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 cf trouble, that as often as he has mentioned
his son in his letters to you, you never once answered any thing concern-
ing him." 1

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, 8 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 EUis's Boyal Letters ; fir^t aeries, vol. iil. p. 349.
2 Letters of Bonrepaux, in Bibliotbeque du Koi.

i688.] The Dutch jieet in sight. 63

and arbitrary consort, and wrote to her in sorrow, not in anger. Ann3
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 Roger 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. 1 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
believed 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. 2 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. 8 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

1 Ellis Correspondence.
Birch's Extracts from the letters of Mary d'Este. * Ellis.

64 Mary Beatrice of Modena.

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, but 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 be 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." l 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
occupied 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
ujxin 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 his 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." 8
Kennet ascribes the continued refusal of that prince to avail himself of
the offered succour, to the operation of God's especial providence.

i Birch. s Kports of Barillon, Bonrepaiix, mid Life

* Birch's Extracts, in Sir Henry Elite's of Jarhes II. Autobiography of the duke of
Royal Letters, vol. iQ. Berwick.

i688.] Baptism of the prince. 65

Doubtless it was so, but tbe 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 Ins 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 known 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 Roman 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
exi^ectation 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. 1 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." 2 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 VI. ; 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

' Gazette. Rapin. z Ellis Correspondence.

VOL. V F

66 Mary Beatrice ofModena. [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-da-fe 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 efficacious 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." l

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
sou. Many of these stories appeared, under the head of current events,
iu the daily and weekly papers.

Confident reports that the Dutch fleet had been shattered and dis-
persed in one of the rough antumnal 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 which lurked the mainspring which impelled him to that

i Perth Correspondence, edited by W- Jerdan, isq. Recently printed by the Camden Society.

)

i688.] Hing and queen accused of imposing a spurious prince. 67

resolution, "a determination to inquire into the birth of the pretended
prince of Wales ;" 1 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 imposed 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 Life of James II., vol. ii. p. IM

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 bora 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. The
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. 1
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,
ting in council, that the declarations of him-

1688.] Verification of the prince' 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 be 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, 1 its verification 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. 2 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 Borne ; 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

i " Bumet," 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- B Evelyn's Diary. Mackintosh's History

nected with the birth of the son of James II. 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 hio narrative, he fell exhausted at the feet of
the king a startling omen, according to the temper of the times. 1
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." 2

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 the 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-kid treachery
of his favourite Churchill, in the mean time, .began to work in the
desertion of lord Cornbury, who attempted to carry off three legiments
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 wae willing to spare them the dishonour of desert-
ing, as lord Cornbury had done." They all appeared deeply moved, and
replied unanimously, " that they would serve him to the last drop of
their blood." 1 " 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. 2

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
thau to be in, the greatst ease and security without him. This being
i King James's Journal. * ibid.

72 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [ibss.

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 be sent into a
foreign country, while she was left in a mutinous and discontented city,
it is not to be 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." 1 The king recommended, the care of the city to the
lord mayor, and left the management of affairs of state in the handa
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. 2

" 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. 3

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 :

* Dalrymple, &c. printed for and sold by John Morphew, neal

Collection of Old Stories, which were the Stationers' hall, 1711.

i6ss.] Queen's lonely Court at Whitehall. 73

my Lrd 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." 1

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. 2 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 hemorrhage 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 next 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. 8 James calls this "a providential

1 Clarendon's Diary, 3 Diary of Sir Patrick Hume. Eeresby

1 Ibid. Burnet.

74 Mary Beatrice ofModena. [1688.

bleeding," 1 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. 2 "Although," says the
duke of Berwick, 3 " 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, but 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. 4 The excessive loss of blood left king James in a state of
death-like exhaustion, while the recurrence of the haemorrhage every
time he attempted to rouse himself for either bodily or mental exertion,
bore witness of his unfitness for either, and produced despondency, 6 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
ether officers of his army. 6 James was bewildered, paralyzed. The
warning cry, " There is treachery, Ahaziah !" seemed for ever ringing

1 Journal of James II. 4 The death of James II. was caused by a

* See the full particulars of this atrocious similar attack, which produced fits of san-
design in Macpherson's Documents, vol. i. guineous apoplexy ; he was almost drowned
pp. 279-81, and Carte's Memorandum-book, in his own blood from the repeated rupture
voL xii. The treacherous intention of Marl- of the overcharged vessels under the pressure
borough, in having confederated to deliver of mental agitation, as will be related in the
hte royal master into the hands of William of due course of events

Orange, is mentioned by Sir John Reresby as s Burnet.

If no doubt were at that time entertained on 6 " They say lord Fcversham was upon his
the subject, and it appears as well authenti- knees two hours, begging the king to secure
cated as any historical fact which is not veri- lord Churchill, but he would believe nothing
fied by documents. Carte and Macpherson [no ill] of him." Private news-letter ad-
produce strong evidence even of the intention dressed to lady Margaret Russell, in the col-
of assassinating the king lection of his grace the duke of Devonshire,

* Autobiography of the duke of Berwick ; at Chiswick-lodge.
French ed., voL i. p. 23.

1688.] King deserted by lord Churchill mid prince of Denmark. 75

in tlie 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." 1 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. 2

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 Kussell, that " the great lady," by which her majesty is evi-
dently signified, had been heard to say, " that she hated all the Rus-
sells." 8 This passionate sally was probably elicited by the tidings of
Mr. Francis Russell's defection, which had drawn many tears from his
loyal aunt, lady Bristol, who, according to the same authority, was

' Lediard'3 Life of the Duke of Marl- a inedited Cavendish Papers, in the collec-

borough, vol. i. p. 77. tion of his grace the duke of Devonshire, at

2 Life of King James Mackimosh. Lin- Chiswick.
gard. Macphersou.

76 Mary Beatrice of Modena.

greatly afflicted that so many 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. Xext
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." 1 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, 8 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 inflame 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. z Journal of King James IL

3 lale of James.

1688.] 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 only 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." 1 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." 2
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 ;" 3 a melancholy elucidation of his sub-
sequent conduct, which cannot be explained on any rational principle. 4

King James had all along be^n haunted with the idea that the life of
the inf&nt prince was in constant jeopardy : this fear returned upon him

1 Dalrymple. Macpherson. Echard. Bapin. with much sensibility." I am indebted for

2 Life of King James. this fact to the new and enlarged edition of
* Sir John Reresby's Memoirs. the Lives of the Lindsays, by lord Lindsay,
4 One of James's most attached servants, vol. ii. p. 160 ; a work calculated to illustrate

Co; ! .\i 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

forrows 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, cus-

possessed of firmness of mind or nerve to toms, and leading events of the era, from tie

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 times
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 eleve of Tnrenne, the
gallant sailor-prince who had connected his name so proudly 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-
flicting parties : " When we consider the life of a man, we none know
what he may become till we see the end of his career." J 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 loyalty, 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 Russell, in the previously quoted letter of
November 29, 1688 :

" They say the queen is told lady Cornbury 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 gun& came by us yesterday into town again, but the
ammunition, I tlrink, 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 regiment were to be employed in a general massacre of the

1 Course of Civilization, by M. Guizot.
z Cavendish MSS., by favour of the late duke of Devonshire.

s.] King alarmed for the safety of the queen and prince. 79

Protestants, and they began to attack the houses of the Roman 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 wil.ing that the prince her 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 XIV. 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 110 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 valet-de-chambre
of the king, named De Labadie, husband to the queen's nurse, called me

1 Life of James II., from the Stnart In the adventure ; but the moral and inter-
Papers, nal evidence of every person who collates it

2 This curious document belongs to the with other accounts of the transaction is,
Chaillot collection, and is stated to be written that the author could be no other than St
by an Italian gentleman of the household of Victor.

the consort of long James, who was engaged *

80 Mary Beatrice of Hodena. [1688.

by his 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. I
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. 1 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 time
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
th 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 born 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, Peleirrina Turinie
2 Daliymple's Appendix, pp. 328", 329.

j6sa.] Escape of queen and pnnce. 81

loss of his crown, and the hazard of his majesty's personal safety and
that of the queen, could result from it ; and begs him to give orders for
the prince's immediate return, lest the troops of the prince of Orange
should be interposed between London and Portsmouth. 1 This was
touching the right chord ; James, though unconvinced by the sound
sense of lord Dartmouth's reasoning, became tremblingly anxious for the
safety of his boy. He despatched couriers to Portsmouth on the Wed-
nesday, with orders for lord and lady Powis to bring the little prince
back to Whitehall. They started with their precious charge 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. 2

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. 3 " It
was St. Victor," says madame de SeVigne, " 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 aboiit 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

1 Dalrymple's Appendix, pp. 328, 329. by the rabble, which compelled them to dis-

2 Life of James II. tand, and every man to shift for himself. It

3 When the prince's first-appointed escort was well for the royal infant that he came
re-entered London, they were received with under other auspices.

hooting and pelting, and other rough usage

VOL. V. O

82 Jbary Beatrice of Modena. [ibss.

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." 1 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 signer
Ferichi, the Florentine resident, as if it had been for his own use. 8 " 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 prevent
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- 3 MS. Narrative of the Queen's Escape,

lot MS. 4 At that time, there was only London-

'-' Mad.ime de SeVifme, and MS. Narrative bridge which crossed the Thames; West-

of the Kscupe of the Queen and Son of James minster bridge was not then built Ferry.

II., king of Knglnnd. authenticated by the boats were the means of communication

queen ; Chaillot collection. between Westminster and Lambeth.

ib88.] Crosses the Thames at night in an open boat. 83

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 au 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." 1

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." 2 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 coach, 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

1 Narrative of the Kscape of the Queen of England : Chaillot MS.
2 Orleans. King James. Dalrymple. Macpbergon.

G 2

84 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1688.

wrapt in the same profound repose during this anxious pause, alika
unconscious of his own reverse of fortune and his mother's woe.

Mary Beatrice looked back 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." 1 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, aiid 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, but
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 bank. 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 back 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 ;
but 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 Leyburn, 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. 2

" We took the way to Gravcsend, distant from London twenty miles.

1 Dalrymple. after the coach to Gravesend. Lanzun 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
fies St. Victor as the author of the narrative, no other gentleman engaged in it.
Dangeau says St. Victor rode on horseback

1&88.] Embarks with the prince at Gravesend. 85

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,
<nd 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. 1
Mary Beatrice was certainly more fortunate in her choice of friends than
her lord, for there were no instances of treachery or ingratitude in her
household. All her ladies loved her, and were ready to share hsr
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, 2 signora
Pelegrina Turinie, 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 Fra^ois,
besides the page Dusious, 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 ; s 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

1 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 ber till
her maturer years. She was one of the ladies her death.

of the bedchamber, and had been created 3 Dangeau, Sevigne.

86 Mary Beatrice of Hodena. [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 boy on this occasion,
but, doubtless, he had been well dosed with anodynes.

The wind bein<* 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.B."

evidently 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 bark 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

loss.] 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. 1

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." 2 King
James had charged the count de Lauzun to shoot the captain dead, if
he 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 llth. 3 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 OH
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

1 MS. Memorials of Mary Beatrice d'Rste; James II. Letter from the due de

Chaillot collection. Ibid. Lauzun to one of the ladles of the Richelieu

3 MX Mi'inormls of Mary Beatrice d'Kste; family. Papers of Marechal le due de Riche-

jLrchjve of the Icingd'im ol France. Life of lieu

88 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1688.

with nev eloquent thanks and handfuls of guineas, he protested " that
if he had known her, it should have cost him his lite but he would have
done his duty." l

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. 2

Sixteen years before, Mary of Modena had embarked in almost
regal pomp at Calais, in the Royal 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 man
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 qiiiet
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." 3
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:e
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 one of the ladies of the Richelieu family. Papers of
Marechal le due Richelieu, z Ibid. * Ibid.

Queen and prince at Calais. 89

with her in the grateful acknowledgments that fill my heart. 1 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-
ceive 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 :

" SIB, 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 ft Dec., 1688." 8 " JAMES, R.

Long, however, before this letter was penned in England, much less

1 Manuscripts of George IV., Brit. Museum z Lingard's Appendix, from Barillon's
F 59. Recueil de Reces. MS., 140 (copy) Despatches.
272 A. W

90 Hilary Beatrice of Modena. 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 foundered in a terrible
storm at sea, and his majesty, with all on board, had perished. 1

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 away, 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. 2 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
cTAumont, 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
regarding 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 without 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. Sirnon, " has arrived at Calais,
and we understand from him that king James has been brought back to
Madame de Seviswa. 2 Narrative of the Escape. 3 Daneeau. Sevigne.

1&S8.] Her anxiety for (lie 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 Roger Strickland had brought were at first carefully
concealed from the queen by her friends, but ou the 19th 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 ; ai_d 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." a 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. 8 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

1 Journal of the Queen's .Escape ; Chaillot * Ibid.
MS. * Journal of James IL

92 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1688.

house of the king of France. They remained there the whole of that
day, " and by the grace of God," says the historian of the escape, " learned
that king James was still at Whitehall. 1

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. J

" Whitehall, Dec. it), 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,
I 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. 8 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 Reresby, 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 llth, he
withdrew himself privately." Before his departure, James wrote to the
earl of Feversham, informing him " that he had been compelled tc 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 relied on his troops, he would at
least have had one blow for it." When this letter was read to the
eoldieps, many of them wept. 4

After a day of excessive mental fatigue and agitation, the king retired
to his lonely pillow. As he was stepping into bed, he told the earl of

1 Original MS. verified by Mary Beatrice; 3 Lingard, from Barillon.
Chaillot collection. * Kennet.

* Dartmouth Papers.

i6ss.] King leaves London secretly. 93

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. 1 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 be 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 Vauxhall. 2 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 in 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 Vauxhall. 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
cf the tide, sent his servant to the Feversham post-office, and as his seat
was in that neighbourhood, his livery was known. 3 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
Roman 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 oi king James's departure, given 3 King James's Journal. Ellis Correspond-
By himself to the nuns of Chaillot. See also cnce.

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
beginning 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. 1

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." 2 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
inind 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 II., cited by Macpher-
lot MS. son.

King protected by his seames, 05

n'z.ain ; and at last succeeded in penning a brief summons to lord Win-
chilsea. 1 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
ajwplexy 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. 8

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-
hall, 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. 4 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 tha
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 Continnator of Mackintosh. fessor, which contained this relic.

3 Ibid. James was protwbly plundered of 3 Reresby's Memoirs,

the antique gold crucifix and rosary recently 4 Sheffield's Memoirs.
Uken out of the coffin of Edward the Con-

96 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [i6s

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. 1 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. 8 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 .eone 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 w?
greeted with impassioned demonstrations of affection. As he roc
through the city to Whitehall, a body of gentlemen, forming a volunte(
guard of honour, preceeded him bareheaded. The bells rang joyousl;
and the air was rent with acclamations of people of all degrees, who ra
in crowds to welcome him. These manifestations of loyalty were f{
more flattering, spontaneous as they were, and the free-will offerings (
popular sympathy in his distress, than if he had returned from
decisive victory over the forces of the Dutch prince. Yet every art ha
been used to alarm the metropolis with warnings and incendiary outcru
of Irish and popish massacres ; but in spite of everything, the peop
showed that, though they hated popery, they loved their king. Whit<
hall was never more crowded than on that occasion, even to the roy;
bedchamber. 3

Among the numerous candidates for audience was a deputation froi
the freebooters at Feversham, who came to beg his majesty's pardo
for their late outrage, and to proffer once more a restitution i
the gold of which they had rifled him. James not only bade them ket

1 Sheffield Memoirs. Macpherson. Lin- Bumet. 3 Journal cfJamec.

gord. James's Journal. Life ditto. Bumet. Mackintosh. Keunet

1 Journal of King James. Macpherson. Echard.

1&88.J Reaction of popular feeling. 97

ut gave them ten guineas to drink his health. 1 Cheered by the

.rent reaction that had taken place, the king exerted himself to hold

3ourt, and supped in state. " I stood by him during his supper,"

. lord Dartmouth, " and he told me all that had happened to him at

ersharn with as much unconcernedness as if they had been the

entures of some other person, and directed a great deal of bis dis-

rse to me, though I was but a boy." 2 That night the metropolis

s illuminated, and the streets were full of bonfires. Scarcely, how-

;r, had the king retired to his bedchamber, when Zulestein demanded

immediate audience, being charged with letters from the Dutch

nee, his master, requiring that his majesty should remain at

Chester while he came to sojourn in London. James replied, " that the

.juest came too late ; and as he was now in London, a personal inter-

ew could the better take place." The only outrage that elicited an

iprosaion of anger was the arrest and imprisonment of his accredited

icssenger, lord Fevershatn ; he expressed surprise and indignation, and

rote to the prince demanding his release. 3 William was now acting as

.ing of England de facto, without any other authority than that be-

towed 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, 4 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 bis 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.' 6 ' 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

1 Ellis Correspondence. * Biographical notice of Colin earl of Bal-

1 Note in New Burnet. carres, by lord Lindsay, bis descendant ; from

* James's Journal. tue original family documents. Printed by

4 Contwnator of Mackintosh. Uie 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.' " l

James amused himself during some part of this day, his last of regal
authority in England, by touching for " the evil," having succeeded iu
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

i Biographical notice of Colin e&rl of Bel- * Memoirs of Sheffield duke of Bucking-
carres, by lord Lindsay. bam.

3.] James driven from WliiteliaU. 99

,v r illiam, 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. 1 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
lie 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
Rochester 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." 2
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

James's Life. Clarendon Diary. Dalrymple 2 King James's Journal.

H 2

100 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [ibss.

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. 1 " 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. 2 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 Rochester, where he took up his quarters in the house of Sir
Richard Head. During the three days he remained at Rochester,
Turner, 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. 8 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,
1 Journal of James II. * Ibid. * Ibid. Clarendon Diary.

l6s8.] 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." l
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, 2 and then forwarded to the king at Kochester." 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 Rochester 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 ?" ho
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 havo
had experience, whether anything can make this nation so great and
flourishing 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 hia
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. 2 " 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-

mid by him afterwards repeated to Carte the kintosh.

102 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1638.

door. At parting, James drew a ring from his own finger and placed it
on that of his loyal host, Sir Richard 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." 1 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 pathetio
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, and 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 Kichard Head, plete with noble and chivalric sentiments,
and is at present in the possession of his 4 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
tiarvon. this memoir made conformable to the dates

z Journal of James II.'s Life. used by English historians.

1&88.] Fugitive queen at Beauvais. 103

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 offered parti mlar
marks of respect and generous attention to the royal fugitive, and she
remained at Beauvais till Tuesday, the 25th. 1 " 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 discussing 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." 2

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. Frangois.
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 Ibid. 3 Letter in the Richelieu Papers.

104 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1688.

The poor queen was, however, thrown into such deep dejection by 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. 1

" He.r 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 Pe"lerin. 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." 2

As soon as Louis XIV. 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. 3 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 Dangeau, 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. Ibid. s MS. Narrative of the Escape. Dangea'o.

i688.] Met and welcomed by Louis XIV. 105

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. 1

The duchess of Portsmouth, 8 who was at the court of France with
her son the duke of Richmond, 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. 8 As soon as her majesty's cortege 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. 4 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 get her mind finally carried her point, a circumstance
on obtaining an appointment as lady of the deeply to be regretted.

bedchamber to the virtuous coiisort of James 3 Madame de Se vigne*. Dangeau.

II., though sbe had given her great annoy- < Se'vigue. Dangean. Journal of James,

ance when duchess of York, and also by dis- History of the Escape of the (^ueen, in the

geminating the base slanders touching the archives of France.

birth of the prince of Wales. Through the

106 Mary Beatrice of Hodtna. [i6s3.

queen," says Dangeau, " had with her the marchioness of Powis and the
signora Anna Vittoria Montecuculi, an Italian, whom she loves very
much." l And thus in regal pomp was the exiled queen of England
conducted by Louis XIV. to the palace of St. Germains-en-Laye, which
was henceforth to be her home. Cheered by the courteous and delicate
attentions with which she was treated by the sovereign of Fiance, 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. 2

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. 8 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.

* News-letter from Versailles, Lingard's 3 Duugeau. Sevigne. MS. Memorials.

ibss.j Joined by her consort at St. Germain*. 107

her 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 fallowed their sovereign. 1

In the course of half an hour, Lotus was informed that the king of
England was entering the chateau, on 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 Benzi 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 XIV. 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. 8
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, whera

1 Se"vign& Dantfeau. News-letter from Versailles, In Lingard's Appendix.
Letter from Versailles, iu Lingard's Apjwndix. Dangeaa. 3 Ibid. Sevigne.

108 Mary Beatrice of Dtodena. [1688.

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 trait 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 XIV. 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 XIV. 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 tableau 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. 1 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 F 2

Whole families preferred going into exile together, rather than to
transfer their allegiance to William and Mary. 3 This generous spirit
was by no means confined to the Roman 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

a The hon. George Sydney Smythe. of his servants, Thomas Shepherd, the stew.

s The old cavalier knight-banneret, Sir ard. and Robert Came, for the nominal sum

Thomas Strickland, of Sizergh, whose lady, of 5001. 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 esUues from proscribed Jacobites.

110 Mary Beatrice of Modem. [1688.

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 SeVigne, "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 XIV.
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
lew 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 children on the privilege of

1&88.] 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 afauteutt. 1 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
toijatisfy 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,
a.id 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
fautfuil in her presence, but a lower one than that in which she sat.
The d^uphiness 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. 2 She told the dauphin, that " sho
> Memoirs and Anecdotes of Louis XIV. and Louis XV. Dangeau. Scvigne.

112 Mary Beatrice of Modem. [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 SeVigne", 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 &fauteuti 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. 1 j
From that hour it became the fashion in the court of France to cite the j
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 pleas<
the dauphiness had protested that, if the receptions of the court of St

1688-g.] Visits of the French princesxcs. 113

Genual ns were 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. 1

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. 2 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 Waldegrave, 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
dutiphiness 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
tome time in one fauteuil probably one of those double chairs of state,

1 S*vlgue. Daugeau.

VOL. V. I

114 Mary Beatrice of Modena. ("1688-9.

such as that which is shown in queen Mary's chamber at Holyrool-
palaee. The queen was charmed with monseigneur's cabinets, and
good-naturedly opoke 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
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 Maintenon, 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 SeVigne, " is pleasta
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

](>9-] '-The monogram diamond seat. 115

his capacity is ordinary, and he recounts all that has passed in England
without emotion. 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: 1

" 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 grea.t 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. 1 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. R."

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.R., 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

1 Through the kindness of the late lady earl and countess of Lichfield, I enjoy tb
Bedingfeld, bedchamlier-woman to queen privilege of presenting this mi.gt interesting
Adelaide, the immediate descendant of the royal letter, for tbe first time, to tte public.

I 2

116 Mary Beatrice ofModena. [1639.

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, 1
but beautiful and joyous, 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
Eacine's popular tragedy of Esther, at St. Cyr, 2 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 ova: 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 Ventadour. In the evening they all went to
see the ballet, where her majesty was seated, as before, between her
husband and Louis XIV. She was attended by the countess of Sussex,
lady Sophia Bulkeley, 8 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 II.'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 3 This lady was the sister of "la belle
de Seyigne. Stuart ;" she was married to Mr. Bulkeley

2 Sevigne. Dangeau. the brother of lord Bulkeley.

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
flipjit 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. 1

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. 2 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 20th of February, James lost a powerful friend by the sudden
death of his niece, the queen of Spain, 3 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 Rome,
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. Bumet. Mackin- fascination of her mother. She was only six-
tosh, and-twenty, and h< r death was attributed to
? Life and Works of Bishop Ken. poison, administered by the emissaries of a
3 This princess was iiie eldest daughter of party jealous of her unbounded influence
Henrietta of England and Philip duke of <'ver the mind of her weak, sickly husband,
Orleans- *he inherited the wit, beauty, and Chwles II. of Spain. St. Simon. SeVigne.

118 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1639.

pleasure he felt at the thought that his queen would often come there
during his absence, to perform her devotions.

At the request of Mary Beatrice, Louis XIV. had not only forgiven
Lauzun for all past offences, but elevated him to the rant 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 gentleman 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." 1 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. 2 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 otter
to your majesty," said he, " is, that I may never see you again." 8

The separation between Mary Beatrice and her husband was of a
heart-rending 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 Ce*, 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 XIV. James
travelled in his coach, having with him his son the duke of Benvick,
and the earls of Powis, Dumbarton, and Melfort, and Thomas Stuart.

1 Sir James Mackintosh. a Madame de Serigng.

3 Dalrymple. Dangeau. Sevigne

1689.] King James lands in Ireland. 119

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 would 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. 1 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," 2 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 es.pecial couriers whenever he received despatches, to
convey the tidings to her as early as possible. 8 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, a.nd the friendship that was commenced
between her and some of the ladies of that community was only dissolved

1 IHlrymple. Life of James II. Macpherson.
* Sevigne. 3 Dangeau. Sevigne".

120 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1639.

by death. She had her preferences among them ; and the three who
appeared to hold the first place in her regard, were madarne Catharine
Angelique 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
Rome, for however efficacious the prayers of holy men and women may
be, it is contrary to Scripture 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 Irttle 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 mora
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

jbsg.J Eoccites jealousy and admiration in the French court. 121

retirement, and apj>caring at some of the splendid fgtes 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 jealousy. " 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." 1
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." 2

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/awfcwi'Zs, 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 Deny 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 1'A.ncienne Conr. 2 Sevignfc.

122 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1699.

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
[Derry].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. 2 " 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,OOOZ. 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. Grain." 3 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

i From the original French holograph in ters have not succeeded in Ireland."
the Chaillot collection, at the hdtel de Sou- 2 Nairne'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 Because mat-

idsg.j Her letter to the duke 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 GORDON.

" 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 ol
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. 1 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." 3

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

1 Keeping Edinburgh-castle for James II., a Printed in the Spalding Club Miscellany,

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 Modem. [1690.

of your own, and that you may never have a worse servant than," 1 &c.,
meaning himself. A worse counsellor James never had : his letters,
when intercepted, 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 MID
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." 2

The royal writer expresses a hope that the king would 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 queen expressed
her positive determination not to avail herself of these marks of respect,
in the following letter to the superior : 3

" I thank you, my dearest mother, for the offer you have made me of
giving me a dinner in your 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. 1 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 Naime collection, in Macpherson's Stuart Papers.

2 Jnedited letters of the queen of James II.; Chaillot MSS. 3 Ibid.

1690.] Her letters. 125

I am persuaded that my sister, Marie Franpoise, will prepare 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 iior
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 MARY BEATRICE TO THE EABL OF TYRCONNEL. 1

" 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 there/or refer myself to him to tell you all wee spoke of, for I have no
secrets for you. One thing only I 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 I 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. R."

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 difficulties 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 Hodena. [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 i 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 Btores 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 exprasses to despatch before I can be with
you. I expect every 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

1690.] 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. 1 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 tc
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." 2 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 fine train of artillery, and his well-
accoutred veteran troops doubled the numbers 3 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, froc

* Macpherson's Collection of Stuart Papers, his Memoirs.

* James's Journal

128 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [169 a

had no other post so advantageous, and was loath tc abandon all with-
out a stroke." l Maiy 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." 2 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 Ross into the
league for king James, and sent them 15,OOOZ. 3 Through the treachery
of lord Ross, 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 elbo\\ 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 was 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 William Leslie Melville : printed by th
13, 1690. Bonnatyne Club.

* Two of her letters to Montgomery, con

1690.] Born to \>e the sport of fortune. 129

great stale 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." l 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 fight 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." 2 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 find 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 find 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

' Journal of King James. Life of James. * Dalrymple. Chaillot MS.

VOL. V. K

130 Mary Beatrice of Modena.

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." l

King James joined his queen at Chaiilot, 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 affectionate 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." 2 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, James 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 XIV. initiated his royal guests into
the mysteries of the new round game of 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 fine. 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
iamil\ r . The duchess of Orleans took the countess of Almonde and lady
1 Chaillot MS. * Dangean's Journal.

1691.] Secret correspondence with lord Godolphin. 181

Sophia Bulkeley, the queen's ladies in waiting, in her coach. When
they reached the banks 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. 1

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 would 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 who, after the Revolution, were Qsten-
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 oliast*,.
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,

1 Dangeau's Journal.

K 2

132 Mary Beatrice ofModena. [i('9i.

Marli, and Fontainebleau ; but they rarely went to Paris, except to
pay their devotions in the churches there. The great delight 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 authority 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 incom-
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 agreeable 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 fie)- expectation. 133

vents me from coming to you. It is, that I have some suspicions 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 ! 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 Dcposee,
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." 1

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 : 2

" 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, th-e 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 XIV.
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 Sancreft, 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 h6tel de Soubise, Paris,
ter, begun by lady Sophia Bulkeley, and z Evelyn,
finished by the queen. Inedited Chatllut

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 some of 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 I would beg of you, that the story of ' a French league to cut
' Trotestant 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." 2 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 Conde 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 Normandy, 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. 8 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
Russell in the Downs, and appeared on the coast of France. Russell,
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 * Dangeau.

the nation had ordained, well knowing that 3 Ibid. Life of James.

ibgz.j James lingers at the Hogue. 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 ! " l 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 Lis 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. Qermains, 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 I am ?"

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 to

1 Dalrymple.

136 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1692.

him. It is the Lord ; he has done what was good in his eyes." 1 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 ; but 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." 2

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 I
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." s 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 1 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,

i Inedited letter of the queen of James II. 3 Inedited letters of the queen of James IL

to the abbess of Chaillot, dated June 14, 1692. in the archives of the kingdom of France

Archives of the kingdom of France. 4 Ibid

ibid.

1692.] Distress and perplexity of the queen. 137

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 Melfurt. 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 'b' here by Saturday or Sunday next.
Behold, my dear mother," corftmues 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." l When the mighty are put
down from their seats, it is well if the unbought, im 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. 2 His
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 XIV. 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
notorious but when fighting for me. I entreat you, therefore, to interest
yourself no more for a prince so unfortunate ; but permit me to withdraw,
Jli r ith 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." 3

1 Inedlted letter of the queen of James II. to * Am&ie'e Pichot's Historical Introduction

the abbess of Ohaillot, dated June 14-1 5, 1692. to the Life of Charles Edward Stuart, arid

'-' Life of King James, from the Stuart Life of James.
Z'aptrs.

138 Mary Beatrice of Hodena. [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 t,he 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. 1

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-bom 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 !" 2 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, dnchess 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. 8 Eighteen days before the birth of the princess Louisa,
the son of James II. 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." 4 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.
Ibid.

1692.] Consolation in adversity. 139

CHAPTER VE.

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 affection 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.

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 f

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,
Loni.s XIV., and was accustomed to say that, " like Jacob, he counted
his sufferings for nothing, having such a support and companion in
them." 1 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 Contlnuator of James's Life, from Stuart Papers.

140 Mary Beatrice of Hodena. [iO$.2.

of La Hogtie, 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
ma le 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,
aot as trials, but as the just chastisement of my faults." 3 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 No 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." 8

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
10th, the anniversary commemoration of the foundress, 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 services for the repose of the soul of that queen. The
archbishop of Diey said the mass, and after all the offices 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 greatly 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

Contemporary Life of James, and circular- etter of the convent of Chaillot
Circular-letter of the convent of Chaillot. Stuart Papers. 3 Ibid.

1692.] Receptions 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 Cassar, who named it the city of a hundred
towers, there being that number round the wall, which I understand the
enemy has demolished." 1 The queen lamented the destruction of so
mvat 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 Kecital of the Death
of his late Majesty, king Charles. 2

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 France.

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. 8

" 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 you, 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. Ibid.

3 From the original French holograph, in the hotel de Soubiae.

142 Mary Beatrice of Modem. [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, my 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 Daitphine, 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 m 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. 1 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 Ranee, 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 edified 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

1 Memoirs of the Marquise de Crcqui.

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 who set their hearts upon
them." 1 Maiy 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 queeu, who deserves the preference for her merit to all I have
known." s

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 Rottier. 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 hixuriant 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 stiffness 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 ruffles. The portrait, which is supposed to be a
Rigaud, is an exquisite work of art. It was presented by the exiled
queen to her faithful friend lady Strickland, 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. 3

1 Circular-letter of the convent of Chaillot royal mistress ; her single-hearted and kind
on the Life and Death of James II, king of disposition is apparent from her will, in
England. which she leaves some trifle of personal pro-

2 Letters of James earl of Perth : edited perty to all her relatives, and apologizes
by W. Jerdan. Published by the Carnden touchingly for her poverty, having so little
Society. to leave. If madame Caylus's charge of

* Madame Caylns, or her editor, has brought treachery were true, why was lady Strick-
a most injurious and unfounded charge against land's husband and family deprived of the
lady Strickland, whose losses of property, fine manor of Thornton Briggs, inherited
banishment from home and country, and from Catherine Neville? being the only
fidelity unto death, sufficiently disprove It. landed property not secured from the grasp
She expired in the Benedictine convent at of William III. by being made over for a no-
Rouen, gome mouths before the death of her minal consideration to some faithful servant

144 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1693.

. Another of 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 ruined followers, was plun-
dered of its valuable paintings and furniture at the French revolution,
and has, within the last few years, been converted into a military peni-
tentiary. The ch&teau 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, pliauts,
and tabourets, are no longer objects of angry contention there. The ignoble
board, where 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 wing 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 view of the royal closet, so that any
one ambushed there might look down upon his majesty, and watch all
his proceedings A pleasing tradition connected with this wind-ow was
related to me by a noble lady, whose 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 down into the king's closet, and tapping at the
glass till she had attracted his attention ; then showing her weeping face,
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

lOgs. j Tiie rising generation at St. Germains. 115

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." 1

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-

1 Nairne's Recollections of James II., In Macpherson's Stuart Papers.
VOL. V. L

146 Mary Beatrice of Hodena. [1693.

chase of toys for herself. 1 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
.]iiick 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
the king [Louis XIV.], as we have good grounds to be, for he spoke 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 obta,in
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 :

iChafflot MS.

ibgs.j (Jrief at parting with distressed Scotch cavaliers. 147

" Here is a prayer from the hand of my son, which seems written
well enough to be sent to you. I believe that my dear mother will bi
glad to have something in her hands which comes from those of that
dear child." 1

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 Chaillot. " 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. 8 " 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 leve'e. 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. T^e day
he reviewed them he passed along their ranks, and wrote in his pocket-
book with his own hand every gentleman's 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." 4 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 3 Dalrymple's Memoirs of Great Britain

1 Ibid. 4 Dalrymple.

148 Mary Beatrice of Modena. \_ib<j3.

would be impossible for me ever to forget your sufferings. The'e is no
rank in ray armies to wbich 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 amonsr 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 : l

" 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 pension 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 Scot-

the Boyne, and was one of the brave Scottish land.

exiles who fell at the battle of the Rhine. 2 Memoirs of G>fli Britain.
Only four of these followers of the banished

1693.] Old Jacobite hotel at Si. Germains, Le Prince de (>allc8. ] 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 tho 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 augel 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

i Amedee Picbot

150 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [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 fe~te
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 litUe account of
the manner in which her consort and herself were passing their time in
thai 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 XIV.], 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. a 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." 3

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 Mnry
licatrice come into his coach, in which mademoiselle, and his daughter-

1 Perth Correspondence, edited by W. Jer- Elizabeth queen of Bohemia : therefore donbiy
dan. csq.: Camden Society related to James II. She proved a firm friend

2 She was the daughter of the duke of Or- to his son.

leans by his second wife. Kli/abcth Charlotte 3 From the original French autograp*
of Bavaria, and the grcut-grandilaughter of Chaillot collection

ib94.] Three healths. 151

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
Jacobite partisans at this period, both in country and town :

"THREE HEALTHS.

A JACOBITE 80XG.

" To ane king and no king, ane unde 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." *

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 gongs, 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 III.
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 SACKFIEU^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 ol 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 XIV.J.

MARYBOROUGH 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, 2
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 Ens-
land, but no consideration can prevent, or ever shall prevent me, from
informing you of all that 1 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.
Russell sails to-morrow, with forty ships : the rest are riot 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 Russell, 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 Rome, 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
on. vol. i. p. 444. The name is often spelled Papers, TO!, i. p. 480. The unfortunate
Sackville. general Talmash (Tollemache) and his regi-

2 See Dalrymple's Memoirs of Great Bri- mt-nts were the victims of this information,
tain, vol. ii. V'P- * 4 - 45 - Likewise many and a disastrous defeat of the British forces
curious confirmatory particulars, and Llo\d'L 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. 1

Eveiy 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. 2

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 HrsroRr OF THE SILK.
" When James o'er Great Britain no longer could reign

He fled, and held his court at St. ( Jermain ;

And Captain Scott, who sailed from Aberdeen,

Would sometimes cany parcels for the qusen.

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 s The Miss Boyds, of Aberdeen, who in-

Notice of his ancestor, Colin earl of Balcarres ; herited the relics of this royal present from a

Balcarres' Memorial, printed by the Banna- descendant of Mrs. Scott, kindly presented

tyne Club. me with a portion of the brocade, and a copy

' * Kennersley's Life of Pen, 1740. Mrs. of the original verses from which the above

Pf>n was the daughter of a cavalier of good is given,
family.

154 Mary Beatrice of Modena. [1694.

of some letters she 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 co