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aass_X^_  I  0  9. 
Book. _y_^_. 


COPYRIGHT  DEPOSIT. 


By  ARVEDE  BARINE 

Authorized    English    Versions.       Each  Octavo 
Fully  illustrated.   (By  mail,  $3.25.)  Net,  $3.00 

The  Youth  of  La  Grande  Mademoiselle 

1627-1652 

Louis  XIV.  and  La  Grande  Mademoiselle 

1652-1693 

Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 
G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

Nmw  York  London. 


MARIE  MANCINI 
From  the  painting  ^by  Mignard 


Princesses 


and 


Court   Ladies 


By 

Arvede  Barine 

Author  of  "The   Youth  of  La  Grande  Mademoiselle,'* 
"  Louis  XIV  and  La  Grande  Mademoiselle,"  etc. 


Authorized  English  Version 


Marie  Mancini  —  Christina  of  Sweden 
An  Arab  Princess  —  The  Duchess  of  Maine 
The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth 


G.   P.   Putnam's   Sons 

New  York   and    London 

XLbe  IRnicfterbocftcr  ffircas 
1906 


^1°"^ 
:^^^i 


ILIBRARYofCOH3RESS 
0n6<>yy  Hoeemi 

DEC    ?   1906 

GL.^SS    A       XXc,  Ho, 


Copyright,  1906 

BV 

G.   P    PUTNAM'S  SONS 


Contents 

Marie  Manciini         ...... 

I 

Christina  of  Sweden         ..... 

•       73 

An  Arab  Princess 

.     148 

The  Duchess  of  Maine 

.     210 

The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth    .         .         . 

.    288 

ILLUSTRATIONS 

Marie  Mancini Frontispiece 

From  the  painting  by  Mignard. 

PAGE 

Cardinal  Mazarin 18/ 

From  the  portrait  by  R.  GayTvood. 

Anne  of  Austria      ^o  ^ 

After  the  portrait  by  S.  Harding. 

Marie  Theresa      46  '^ 

From  an  old  copper  engraving. 

Prince  Charles  of  Lorraine 50  ' 

From  an  old  copper  print. 

HoRTENSE  Mancini 60 

From  an  old  copper  print. 

TiiE  Connetable  Colonna 68  '/ 

After  the  portrait  by  Giacomo  Bichi. 

Louis  XIV       72 

After  a  print  by  Manteinl. 

Queen  Christina  of  Sweden 74 

From  an  old  copper  print. 

Queen  Eleonora  of  Sweden 78 v/ 

From  an  old  copper  print. 

Gustavus  Adolphus 84*' 

From  an  old  copper  print. 

Count  Axel  Oxenstiern 92 

From  an  old  copper  print. 

Abbe  Bourdelot 104 

After  the  painting  by  N.  de  Largillier. 


vi  Illustrations 

PAGE 

DucHEssE  Du  Maine 212     / 

After  the  portrait  by  Staal. 

Due  DU  Maine 218 

From  an  old  copper  print. 

Nicholas  de  Malezieu 228    ^ 

From  an  old  copper  print. 

Madame  de  Maintenon 246  . 

From  the  engraving  by  P.  Giffart. 

Louis  XV 256  ,] 

After  the  painting  by  Hyacinthe  Rigaud. 

Philippe  Due  d'Orleans 262 

From  an  old  copper  print. 

Rene  DsseARXEs 274 

From  an  engraving  by  J.  Chapman. 

Marchioness  du  Chatelet 276 

From  an  old  copper  print. 

Voltaire 280 

From  an  engraving  by  James  Mollison  of  the  pic- 
ture by  Largillier  in  the  Institute  of  France. 

Frederike  Sophie  Wilhelmina 290 

Frederick  William  I,  King  of  Prussia 300 

From  an  engraving  by  G.  F.  Schmidt. 

Sophia  Dorothea,  Queen  of  Prussia 304 

From  an  old  copper  print. 

Frederick,  Duke  of  Gloucester 308 

From  the  painting  by  I.  Simon. 

Augustus  the  Strong,  King  of  Poland 312 

From  an  old  print . 

Frederick  the  Great '". 320 

From  an  old  copper  print. 


PRINCESSES  AND  COURT 
LADIES 


MARIE   MANCINI 

THERE  was  once  upon  a  time  a  great  king  who 
governed  the  most  beautiful  country  in  the 
world.  His  court,  like  himself,  was  full  of  youth, 
joy,  and  magnificence ;  everything  in  his  enchanted 
palace  spoke  of  pleasure,  gallantry,  splendour,  and 
especially  of  love.  A  hundred  beauties  sought  to 
attract  the  young  sovereign's  attention,  for  besides 
being  king,  he  was  the  handsomest  man  in  the 
dominion. 

At  the  court,  there  was  a  little,  black-eyed,  ill- 
favoured,  gipsy-like  maid,  whom  her  uncle,  the 
prime  minister,  had  brought  up  from  childhood. 
She  was  wild,  passionate,  but  full  of  wit,  and  her 
mad  pranks  amused  the  king.  He  took  such 
pleasure  in  her  company  that  soon  he  could  not 
do  without  it  and  vowed  that  he  would  marry  her. 
The  queen,  his  mother,  opposed  his  passion  and 
separated  the  two  lovers,  whereat  there  was  much 
sorrow,  and  many  tears  were  shed.  But  the 
queen  was  not  to  be  gainsaid.  The  gipsy-like 
maid  after  this    went  through  many  adventures. 


2  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

committed  innumerable  follies,  in  the  course  of 
which  she  blossomed  into  beauty.  One  fine  day 
she  disappeared  and  no  one  knew  what  had 
become  of  her. 

This  fairy  tale  is  a  true  story,  the  events  of 
which  took  place  at  the  court  of  France  during 
the  seventeenth  century.  The  handsome  prince 
was  Louis  XIV.  The  wild  gipsy  was  Marie 
Mancini,  the  niece  of  Cardinal  Mazarin.  We  shall 
endeavour  to  relate  this  royal  romance.^ 


On  September  the  eleventh,  1647,  j^st  before 
the  Fronde,  the  Court  of  France  received  from 
Italy  three  little  girls  and  a  little  boy,  before 
whom  the  courtiers  bowed  with  indecorous  ser- 
vility. A  lady,  belonging  to  the  Noailles  family, 
went  for  them  in  great  pomp  as  far  as  Rome ;  one 
of  the  Rochefoucaulds,  who  had  been  governess 
to  the  king,  was  appointed  to  care  for  their  instruc- 
tion ;  the  queen  mother  brought  them  up  with  her 
own  children,  and  they  were  treated  like  princes 
and  princesses  of  the  blood.  These  little  foreign- 
ers bore  obscure  Italian  names:  three  were  Man- 
cinis  and  one  was  a  Martinozzi.  Their  mothers 
were  the  sisters  of  Cardinal  Mazarin. 

'  In  1880  M.  Chantelauze  published  an  excellent  book  on 
Louis  XIV  and  Marie  Mancini.  Earlier  still  Am6d6e  Ren^e  told 
the  story  of  Mazarin's  nieces.  We  have  made  great  use  of  these 
two  works. 


Marie  Mancini  3 

In  1653,  after  the  Fronde,  there  was  a  fresh 
arrival  of  nieces  and  nephews  belonging  to  the  all- 
powerful  cardinal:  three  other  Mancinis  and  one 
Martinozzi.  A  last  little  Mancini,  with  her  brother, 
reached  Paris  in  1655.  In  all,  there  were  seven 
nieces  and  three  nephews,  whom  it  was  necessary 
to  provide  with  dowries,  husbands,  wives,  and 
sinecures. 

Some  far-seeing  persons  were  struck,  not  so 
much  with  the  grace  and  charm  of  these  children, 
as  with  the  thought  of  what  they  were  likely  to 
cost  the  nation;  foreseeing,  not  without  sorrow, 
the  important  part  to  be  played  by  this  handsome, 
strange,  and  dangerous  family,  superstitious,  with- 
out religion,  full  of  wit  and  of  eccentricity,  in  all 
things  passionate  and  unrestrained,  living  in  the 
midst  of  pictures  and  artistic  baubles,  of  singular 
pets,  astrologers,  and  poets.  There  was  much 
beauty  among  these  young  people,  and  they  were 
wild  over  poetry,  music,  and  love-making.  Their 
faces  and  their  ideas  were  equally  original.  The 
art  of  seduction  was  natural  to  them.  Their 
tastes  remained  Italian,  elegant,  refined,  and 
mysteriously  alarming.  No  Frenchwoman  at 
Court  knew  how  to  dress,  ornament  her  home,  or 
organise  festivities  as  did  the  Mazarines.  Not 
one  had  read  so  much,  could  discuss  the  topics  of 
the  day  with  so  much  spirit,  or  entertain  with  so 
much  intelligence,  grace,  or,  if  need  be,  haughti- 
ness. Not  one,  either,  was  so  accustomed  to 
notions    which,    outside    of    Italy,    seemed    very 


4  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

startling.  Marie  Mancini,  after  she  had  become  a 
Colonna,  said  and  wrote,  as  though  it  were  the 
simplest  thing  in  the  world,  that  she  had  left  her 
honest  husband,  lest  he  should  take  it  into  his 
head  to  punish  her  "Itahan  vagaries"  by  poison- 
ing her.  It  is  never  quite  wholesome  to  look  upon 
such  expedients  as  natural.  Little  by  little  the 
Mazarines  were  regarded  with  distrust,  and  at  the 
first  opportunity  that  distrust  grew  into  an  evil 
rumour. 

Bold  and  fearless,  their  passion  for  romantic 
adventures  savoured  of  exoticism  as  did  their 
persons.  Unlike  the  great  ladies  of  the  Fronde, 
they  were  adventuresses  rather  than  heroines;  so 
long  as  the  excitement  of  their  frolics  amused  their 
fancy,  they  had  no  fear  of  compromising  them- 
selves. Pride  helped  them  through  many  a  criti- 
cal pass,  and,  when  even  that  failed,  they  in  no 
way  lost  their  spirits.  An  adventure  that  turned 
against  them,  in  a  way  that  would  have  covered 
any  other  women  with  shame,  seemed  to  them  a 
venture  that  had  miscarried  and  must  be  recom- 
menced —  nothing  more. 

They  did  not  believe  in  half  measures.  Two 
among  them,  Laure  Mancini,  Duchess  of  Mercoeur, 
and  Anne-Marie  Martinozzi,  Princess  of  Conti, 
were  of  a  gentler  mould.  They  turned  to  piety 
and  attained  saintliness.  With  the  exception  of 
these  two,  and  perhaps  also  of  Laure  Martinozzi, 
Duchess  of  Modena,  it  is  hard  to  decide  which 
carried  off  the  palm  of  profligacy.     These  Maza- 


Marie  Mancini  5 

rines  looked  on  life  as  a  game  at  which  only  the 
fools  do  not  cheat,  a  game  with  pleasure  for  the 
stake,  especially,  forbidden  pleasure,  so  much 
more  savoury  than  any  other.  Almost  the  whole 
family  was  lacking  in  any  sense  of  morality. 
This  is  a  distinctive  trait  of  the  race.  Mazarin 
never  had  any.  His  nieces  did  not  even  know 
the  meaning  of  the  word.  Like  their  uncle  they 
seemed  utterly  without  conscience. 

The  cardinal  was  inordinately  grasping.^  One 
is  amazed  at  the  enormous  fortune  he  acquired  in 
less  than  twenty  years,  at  a  time  when  foreign 
and  civil  wars  were  ruining  the  country.  On 
every  occasion,  his  great  thought,  his  principal 
preoccupation,  was  to  scrape  money  together. 
In  the  days  of  his  obscure  youth,  he  lived,  and 
lived  far  too  well,  by  gaming.  His  enemies  often 
reproached  him  with  his  surprisingly  persistent 
good  luck  at  cards.  As  prime  minister,  he  robbed 
France  by  all  and  every  means.  Like  Panurge,  he 
had  sixty-three  ways  of  turning  money  into  his 
coffers,  the  most  honest  of  which  was  hardty  to  be 
distinguished  from  stealing.  Mazarin 's  most 
avowable  means  of  getting  rich  was  by  plunging 
his  hands  into  the  king's  treasury.  This  was 
better  than  selling  offices,  better  than  becoming 
"purveyor  and  bread  vendor  to  the  army,"  as 


*  The  rehabilitation  of  Mazarin  has  been  attempted  more  than 
once  in  our  day.  (See  the  interesting  works  of  M.  Cheruel.)  In 
this  study,  we  have  left  aside  the  political  man,  to  show  only  the 
private  individual,  as  he  appeared  in  the  eyes  of  his  contemporaries. 


6  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

Madame  de  Motteville  accuses  him  of  having  been 
during  the  siege  of  Dunkerque  (1658):  "It  is  said 
that  he  caused  wine,  meat,  bread,  and  water  to  be 
sold,  and  that  he  made  a  profit  on  all  these  com- 
modities. He  named  himself  grand  master  of  the 
artillery  and,  in  great  as  in  small  things,  gained 
thereupon.  For  that  reason,  the  suffering  was 
terrible  during  the  siege."  ^  He  sold  even  water 
to  the  soldiers:  nothing  more  need  be  added. 
Thanks  to  this  frightful  pillage,  he  left  a  fortune 
that  Fouquet  estimated  at  a  hundred  millions  of 
francs.  In  order  to  understand  what  such  a  sum 
represented  at  that  time,  it  will  suffice  to  say  that 
the  budget  of  the  nation  was  then  fifty  millions. 

He  was  not  evil  by  nature,  but  he  had  base 
instincts.  It  is  with  such  baseness  as  with  certain 
colouring  matters,  a  small  quantity  of  which, 
thrown  in  a  vat,  suffices  to  defile  all  the  water. 
His  very  accomplishments  were  polluted  with  this 
fatal  trait.  Nature  had  been  prodigal  to  him, 
and  he  possessed  many  of  the  qualities  which  go  to 
make  a  statesman,  but,  to  use  the  vigorous  words 
of  Retz,  "the  ugly  heart  was  seen  through  all." 
His  intelligence  was  keen,  his  mind  full  of  vivacity, 
fertile  in  resources,  alive  with  sprightliness  and 
grace;  he  was  capable  of  conceiving  great  plans 
and  of  putting  them  into  execution;  he  was  not 
vindictive ;  he  forgot  injuries  as  easily  as  services ; 
he  was  handsome,  amiable,  caressing;  "he  had  so 
great  a  charm  that  those  he  liked  could  not  help 

*  Memoirs  of  Madame  de  Motteville. 


Marie  Mancini  7 

but  love  him;"  ^  yet  he  was  despicable,  and  there 
were  those  who  despised  him,  but  he  only  laughed. 
Nothing  is  known  of  the  origin  and  first  years  of 
Mazarin.  It  seems  clear  that  he  sprang  from  the 
dregs  of  the  people;  that  his  father  had  made  a 
certain  little  fortune  by  serving  a  Colonna;  and 
that  he  himself  had  known  many  ups  and  downs 
before  he  became  a  violet-stockinged  monseigneur, 
one  of  the  four  handsomest  prelates  of  Rome,  says 
a  panegyrist.'  All  else  is  vapour,  fanciful  tales, 
stories,  dark  or  sunny,  used  by  friend  or  foe.  At 
last  came  the  day  when  circumstances,  intrigue,  or 
personal  merit,  made  of  him,  still  a  very  young 
man,  one  of  the  negotiators  from  the  papal  court, 
then  legate  to  France.  The  rest  is  well  known. 
From  the  mud  and  obscurity  of  his  beginnings 
sprang  a  power,  a  magnificence,  a  splendour  of  light 
which  caused  the  proudest  lords  to  bow  before 
him  and  reigning  princes  to  seek  his  alliance. 
His  nieces,  journeying  from  Rome  to  Paris,  could 
measure  the  chasm  between  yesterday  and  to-day, 
between  what  they  had  abandoned  and  what  they 
found.  The  Mancinis  left  behind  them  a  sire  who 
dabbled  in  astrology;  the  Martinozzis,  a  father 
sunk  in  profound  obscurity:  all  sprang  from  very 
humble  centres.  In  Paris  they  found  an  uncle, 
master  of  France,  whose  military  household 
equalled  that  of  the  king  and  was  commanded  by 
the    highest    nobles    of    the    land.     They    found 

1  Memoirs  of  de  Bussy. 

'  The  Benedictine  monk,  Th.  Bonnet. 


8  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

palaces,  millions,  royal  liixury.  They  took  pos- 
session of  their  new  fortune  with  the  ease  of  young 
girls  whom  nothing  could  astonish,  and  they 
became  so  important  in  their  new  station  that 
soon  the  gaze  of  Europe  was  fixed  on  them.  The 
splendour  of  the  Mazarines  can  only  be  likened  to 
the  glare  of  a  Bengal  light,  of  which  it  had  the 
suddenness,  the  dazzling  brilliancy,  and  the  short 
duration.  It  is  too  little  to  say  that  these  blind- 
ing flames  illumined  France;  their  light  reached 
far  beyond  the  frontiers,  over  the  whole  of  the 
Occident,  and  brought  to  the  feet  of  these  Italian 
sirens  princes  from  the  south  and  the  north, 
from  the  east  and  the  west.  Then,  suddenly, 
the  fire  died  out.  Far-sounding  scandals,  ruins, 
exile,  death,  crushed  and  annihilated  the  ambitious 
band,  not,  however,  before  they  had  mingled  their 
blood  with  that  of  the  proudest  nobles  of  Europe. 
Among  the  seven  cousins,  Marie  Mancini  has 
been  chosen  for  this  study,  because  she  very 
nearly  became  Queen  of  France.  Even  apart 
from  that  circumstance  she  deserves  to  be  chosen 
as  the  typical  figure  of  her  race,  for  she  repre- 
sents the  average  Mazarine  morality,  equally 
removed  from  the  saints  and  from  the  she-devils, 
from  the  Princess  of  Conti,  and  Olympe  Mancini, 
Countess  of  Soissons.  Setting  aside  the  saints, 
Saint-Simon  said  of  Marie,  comparing  her  with 
the  others :  ' '  She  is  but  a  crazy  thing,  and  yet  the 
best  of  the  Mazarines."  Saint-Simon's  judgment 
may  be  accepted. 


Marie  Mancini  ^    9 

II 

In  the  second  convoy  of  nephews  and  nieces 
that  Mazarin  had  sent  for,  that  of  1653,  was  a 
little  creature  of  thirteen  or  fourteen,  a  very 
prodigy  of  ugliness  in  the  opinion  of  the  court. 
She  was  dark-skinned  and  yellow,  with  a  long 
neck  and  never-ending  arms.  Her  mouth  was 
large  and  fiat,  her  black  eyes  were  hard,  and  there 
was  neither  charm  nor  hope  of  charm  in  all  her 
person.  Her  mind  was  made  on  the  same  model. 
"She  was  bold,"  wrote  Madame  de  La  Fayette,* 
"  imperious,  violent,  indelicate,  and  ignorant  of  all 
the  amenities  of  life."  In  the  midst  of  her  sisters 
and  cousins  she  seemed  some  half -starved,  rough- 
haired,  wild  animal,  ready  to  bite;  this  displeasing 
little  person  was  Marie  Mancini. 

Her  mother  could  make  nothing  of  her.  Madame 
Mancini  died  in  Paris  during  the  year  1656. 
Before  breathing  her  last,  she  recommended  her 
children  to  her  brother,  the  cardinal,  "and  she 
urged  especially  that  her  third  daughter,  whose 
name  was  Marie,  should  be  made  to  pronounce 
her  vows,  because  of  her  untamable  and  evil  nature ; 
and  because  her  husband,  the  great  astrologer, 
had  predicted  that  she  would  be  the  cause  of 
much  woe."^  Madame  Mancini  was  hard  on  her 
gipsy-like  daughter,  and  the  worthy  M.  Mancini 
would  have  been  more  wisely  inspired  if  he  had 

*  Histoire  de  Madame  Henrietta  d*  Angle  terra. 
'  Memoirs  of  Madame  de  Motteville. 


lo  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

read  in  the  stars  that  it  would  be  a  good  thing  to 
place  Olympe  behind  convent  walls.  Mazarin, 
though  he  believed  in  horoscopes,  turned  a  deaf 
ear  to  his  brother-in-law's  predictions  and  kept 
Marie  at  court.  Before  long  he  greatly  repented 
thereof. 

This  little  girl,  so  crudely  described,  was  a  veri- 
table product  of  the  south,  full  of  fire,  passion,  and 
violence.  Heat  seemed  to  radiate  from  her. 
Her  black  eyes  were  full  of  flames,  and  the  flames 
softened  them.  Her  face  grew  less  dark.  Her 
voice  acquired  accents  of  such  depth  and  warmth 
that  it  moved  all  who  listened;  every  gesture 
revealed  the  wild  ardour  of  her  being.  At  the  same 
time  her  mind,  by  contact  with  the  polished 
French  world,  grew  in  refinement.  When  she 
left  Rome,  she  knew  by  heart  the  Italian  poets, 
including  Ariosto.  Soon  she  was  familiar  with 
those  of  France.  She  was  carried  away  with  her 
enthusiasm  for  Comeille,  Gomberville,  La  Calpre- 
nade,  and  Scudery  intoxicated  her.  She  was 
equally  fond  of  heroic  and  amorous  literature: 
the  one  went  straight  to  her  head,  the  other  to 
her  heart.  She  was  passionately  fond  of  all  the 
arts.  She  was  fascinated  by  astrology,  which  she 
had  studied  and  to  which  she  turned  for  advice  in 
critical  moments.  There  was  about  her  some- 
thing ravenous  and  eternally  consumed  by  inter- 
nal fires,  and  this  inspired  a  sort  of  terror.  During 
the  illness  which  well-nigh  carried  off  Louis  XIV, 
in  1658,  she  amazed  the  court  with  her  screams, 


Marie  Mancini  ii 

her  sobs,  her  torrents  of  tears.  All  etiquette  and 
even  good  manners  were  forgotten.  In  the  face 
of  heaven  and  earth  she  gave  way  to  furious 
despair  and  ' '  killed  herself  with  weeping. ' '  ^ 

This  was  the  more  remarkable  for  the  reason 
that,  in  her  family,  the  event  was  regarded  from  a 
very  different  point  of  view,  a  much  more  ' '  Maza- 
rine" point  of  view.  The  cardinal  hid  his  treas- 
ures, moved  his  furniture,  and  began  paying  court 
to  the  friends  of  Monsieur,  brother  and  heir  to  the 
king.  Olympe,  whose  tender  passion  for  Louis  XIV 
was  no  secret,  quietly  went  on  with  her  card 
parties:  a  dying  prince  was  a  useless  commodity 
and  no  longer  interested  her.  When,  against  all 
expectations,  the  king  recovered,  "everybody," 
says  Madame  de  La  Fayette,  "  spoke  to  him  of 
Mademoiselle  Mancini 's  sorrow."  Madame  de  La 
Fayette  shrewdly  adds:  ''Perhaps,  later  on,  she 
may  have  told  him  of  it  herself." 

The  king  was  twenty  years  of  age.  He  had  had 
intrigues  with  Madame  de  Beauvais,  sumamed 
"Cateau  la  Borgnesse,"  his  mother's  lady  in  wait- 
ing; with  a  gardener's  daughter;  with  a  duchess 
of  great  and  long  experience,  Madame  de  Chatillon. 
He  had  been  in  love.  He  had  never  been  loved, 
perhaps  because  he  was  still  timid  with  women; 
he  was,  after  all,  but  a  youth  who  grew  red  or  pale 
when  a  pretty  girl  took  him  by  the  hand.  He 
wept  easily,  wept  tears  of  nervousness  that  old 
age  was  destined  to  give  back  to  him.     "Tears 

*  Memoirs  of  Mademoiselle  de  Montpensier. 


12  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

come  to  him  which  he  cannot  control, "  wrote 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  in  1705,  to  one  of  her  con- 
fidants. 

The  thought  that  he  had  at  last  excited  a  great 
passion,  one  of  those  extreme  loves  which,  more 
than  any  other,  he  thought  himself  worthy  to 
excite,  could  not  leave  him  indifferent.  He  ex- 
amined Marie  Mancini  and  found  that  she  had 
improved  in  looks.  He  talked  to  her  "with  per- 
sistence"* and  was  carried  away  like  straw  in  a 
hurricane. 

He  loved  Marie  at  first  because  she  was  deter- 
mined that  he  should  do  so;  then,  of  his  own 
accord,  and  from  a  nobler  motive,  he  loved  her 
because  he  felt  in  her  a  superior  mind,  through 
association  with  which  his  own  mind  broadened  to 
horizons  hitherto  unknown.  In  order  to  under- 
stand this  evolution  we  must,  for  a  moment, 
forget  the  Louis  XIV  we  are  accustomed  to  con- 
sider, the  roi-soleil,  majestic  in  his  part  of  demi-god, 
and  remember  what  nature  and  education  had 
made  him  at  the  age  of  twenty. 

That  he  was  good-looking  was  admitted  by  all. 
His  fine  presence  was  enhanced  by  a  natural  and 
majestic  grace  which  in  the  midst  of  his  courtiers 
made  of  him  "the  king  of  the  hive."  He  was 
clever  at  all  sports  and  had  been  carefully  trained 
as  a  horseman;  he  danced  admirably.  As  far  as 
intellectual  culture  went,  Mazarin  had  quite 
neglected  that   part   of  his   education.     Accord- 

*  Memoirs  of  Saint-Simon. 


Marie  Mancini  13 

ing  to  his  own  confession,  Louis  XIV  was  pro- 
foundly ignorant,  and  he  was  not  one  of  those 
privileged  few  who  know  by  instinct  what  they 
have  not  been  taught.  The  little  he  knew  had 
been  imparted  by  his  teachers.  The  cardinal 
deemed  it  sufficient  that  he  should  play  with  his 
nieces.  The  young  king's  ideas  needed  to  be 
stimulated,  and  no  one  saw  fit  to  stimulate  them; 
at  twenty  they  still  lay  dormant.  Deep  down 
in  his  nature  there  existed,  in  germ,  great  quali- 
ties which  later,  out  of  a  rather  mediocre  person- 
ality, made  of  him  a  great  monarch;  but  these 
germs  lacked  air  and  light.  Marie  Mancini  be- 
came his  friend,  and  it  was  as  though  a  glory  of 
sunlight  had  burst  into  an  obscure  and  closed 
recess.  He  learned  and  understood  more  things 
within  six  months  than  he  had  done  in  all  his  life 
before. 

She  opened  to  him  the  world  of  heroes ;  heroes  of 
love,  of  constancy  and  abnegation,  of  glory.  She 
revealed  to  him  sentiments  grand  or  subtle,  pas- 
sionate or  noble,  that  give  value  to  life.  She 
scolded  him  for  his  ignorance  and  became  his  pro- 
fessor, teaching  him  Italian,  putting  volumes  of 
poetry  in  his  hands,  as  well  as  romances  and 
tragedies;  reading  verses  and  prose  to  him,  with 
her  rich  voice  vibrating  with  love,  the  intona- 
tions of  which  intoxicated  or  soothed  him.  She 
accustomed  him  to  long,  serious  conversations 
with  men  of  ripe  years  and  great  experience, 
excited  him  to  emulate  them,  to  find  words  full  of 


14  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

dignity  and  precision.     To  her,  also,  he  owed  the 
little  he  ever  cared  for  art. 

He  owed  her  yet  more.  Thanks  to  her,  he  grew 
ashamed  of  having  no  high  ambitions,  no  dreams 
good  or  bad,  no  desires  beyond  the  choice  of  a 
costume  or  the  step  of  a  ballet.  She  bade  him 
remember  that  he  was  a  king,  and  prompted  him 
to  become  a  great  king.  This  lesson  he  never 
forgot. 

His  love  grew  out  of  his  admiration  for  his 
Algeria.  In  the  beginning,  before  Marie  became 
his  teacher,  his  feeling  for  her  was  like  that  of 
most  very  young  men.  She  tells  the  story  of  this 
dawning  attachment  most  gracefully  in  a  writing 
entitled  Apologie}  The  familiar  way  in  which  I 
saw  the  king  and  his  brother  was  something  so 
pleasant  and  sweet,  that  I  could  say,  without  the 
least  constraint,  all  that  I  wished  to  say,  and  it 
happened  that  sometimes,  in  doing  so,  I  gave  them 
pleasure.  Once,  having  gone  with  the  court  to  Fon- 
tainebleau,^  for  we  always  followed  in  the  king's 
train,  I  heard  on  my  return  that  the  king  by  no 
means  hated  me.  I  possessed  enough  penetration 
to  understand  that  sort  of  eloquence  which,  silent, 
yet  speaks  louder  than  the  most  elaborate  words. 
It  is  possible  that  my  own  feelings  for  the  king,  in 
whom    I    had    discovered    nobler    qualities    and 

»  The  complete  title  is"  Apologie  o^  yeri  tables  Memoires  de  Ma- 
dame Marie  Mancini,  connetable  de  Colonna,  Merits  par  elle-meme" 
(Leyde,  1678). 

'  August-September,  1658.  Louis  XIV  had  fallen  ill  at  the  end 
of  June. 


Marie  Mancini  15 

greater  merit  than  in  any  other  man  in  France, 
had  made  me  wiser  in  this  respect  than  in  any 
other.  The  evidence  of  my  own  eyes  would 
scarcely  have  persuaded  me  that  I  had  made  so 
prodigious  a  conquest.  The  courtiers,  natural 
spies  of  their  master's  actions,  had,  long  before 
myself,  discovered  his  Majesty's  passion;  they 
revealed  it  to  me  by  their  extraordinary  sub- 
mission and  flatteries.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
attentions  of  the  monarch,  the  magnificent  pres- 
ents he  showered  upon  me,  and,  yet  more,  his 
languor,  his  sighs,  his  compliance  with  my  slightest 
wish,  soon  left  no  doubt  on  the  subject." 

Languor,  sighs,  presents :  such  was  in  those  days 
the  usual  language  of  love;  so  far,  nothing  distin- 
guishes this  passion  from  any  other.  A  few 
weeks  later  the  young  prince  was  possessed  by  an 
ardent  and  many-sided  feeling,  in  which  tender- 
ness, gratitude,  admiration,  submission,  the  adora- 
tion of  a  pupil  for  his  professor,  and  the  peculiar 
attraction  exercised  on  men  of  the  north  by 
southern  women,  were  all  mingled.  Marie  Man- 
cini fed  the  fire  by  every  means  suggested  by  her 
nature.  She  followed  the  king  step  by  step, 
scarcely  left  him,  became  the  obsession  of  his  life, 
knew  how  to  render  that  obsession  sweet  to  him, 
then  necessary.  In  his  palace  she  seemed  to  be 
his  shadow,  and  he  had  eyes  but  for  her.  If  the 
court  travelled.  Mademoiselle  Mancini  left  the 
ladies  in  their  coaches,  mounted  her  horse,  and 
rode  over  hill  and  dale  with  her  knight.     For 


i6  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

these  two,  winter  or  summer,  wind,  rain,  or  cold, 
did  not  exist:  they  were  together,  that  sufficed; 
nothing  else  mattered.  She  taught  him  to  con- 
fide in  her  absolutely:  she  knew  his  thoughts,  his 
affairs,  his  plans,  all  he  had  heard  or  learned. 
From  confidante  to  adviser  there  is  but  a  step,  and 
that  step  was  soon  taken.  Mistress  of  the  king's 
heart  and  mind,  and  absolute  mistress,  Marie 
Mancini  bethought  her  of  making  good  use  of  her 
power.  She  lifted  her  eyes  to  the  throne  of 
France  and  deemed  it  within  her  reach.  She 
insinuated  as  much,  and  her  audacity  was  not  re- 
buked. With  the  king,  two  other  persons  only 
had  a  voice  in  the  matter:  one  was  the  queen,  the 
other  was  Cardinal  Mazarin.  In  order  to  under- 
stand what  Marie  had  to  expect  either  for  or 
against  her,  it  will  be  necessary  to  examine  the 
personal  relations  of  these  two,  and  the  progress 
of  the  Mazarin  family  since  its  invasion  of  France. 


Ill 


When,  on  the  fourteenth  of  May,  1643, 
Louis  XIV  came  to  the  throne,  Mazarin 's  position 
at  the  court  of  France  was  most  insecure.  The 
late  king  had  made  him  enter  the  council  of 
regency,  but  the  queen-regent;  hated  him  because 
of  Richelieu's  protection.  He  made  some  pre- 
tence of  leaving  the  game  and  announced  his 
departure  for  Rome;  yet  he  bethought  him  that 


Marie  Mancini  17 

his  Italian  graces  might  serve  his  course.  Circum- 
stances shaped  his  course.  Anne  of  Austria  held 
the  power;  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  win  the 
heart  of  Anne,  so  that  the  queen  should  be  sub- 
servient to  the  woman.  Mazarin  began  the  siege 
on  which  so  much  depended. 

The  queen  mother  had  just  passed  her  for- 
tieth birthday.  She  was  coquettish,  but  affected 
a  romantic  and  languishing  sort  of  coquetry, 
which  prized  above  all  things  tender  conversa- 
tions, love-stricken  looks,  and  delicate  attentions. 
Madame  de  Chevreuse,  confidante  of  Anne's  earlier 
years,  affirmed  that  the  aversion  with  which 
Anne  turned  from  Cardinal  Richelieu  came  from 
the  fact  that  "in  love  he  was  pedantic,"  an 
insupportable  fault  in  very  deed,  and  which  few 
women  can  forgive.  Mazarin's  letters,  on  the 
contrary,  show  that  small  attentions  were  always 
grateful  to  the  queen.  When  they  were  both 
old,  he  very  gouty,  and  much  preoccupied  by 
the  treaty  of  the  Pyrenees,  he  yet  made  her 
small  presents,  as  to  a  bread-and-butter  miss. 
From  Saint-Jean-de-Luz,  he  writes:  "Here  is  a 
box  with  eighteen  fans,  which  has  been  sent  to 
me  from  Rome.  .  .  .  You  will  also  receive  four 
pairs  of  gloves  which  my  sister  has  forwarded 
to  me." 

Mazarin  took  a  hint  from  Richelieu's  failure. 
He  was  by  no  means  pedantic.  He  seemed  to 
be  madly  in  love  and  yet  crushed  by  the  con- 
viction   of    his    unworthiness.      He    melted  into 


1 8  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

tenderness  and  remained  so  humble  that  he  was 
as  dust  under  the  feet  of  his  goddess.  He  showed 
himself  more  persuasive  than  pressing,  more  sub- 
missive than  persuasive,  more  amiable  than 
submissive.     And  he  succeeded. 

What  he  became,  once  master  of  the  situa- 
tion, his  "correspondence"  w^ith  Anne  of  Austria 
reveals  clearly  enough.  During  one  of  his  exiles 
at  the  time  of  the  Fronde,  the  queen  ends  a  letter 
with  this  passionate  cry:  "Yours,  till  my  last 
breath;  farewell,  all  my  strength  has  left  me." 
The  memories  he  left  were  indelible.  At  fifty- 
eight  years  of  age,  she  writes:  "Your  letter  filled 
me  with  joy;  I  scarcely  know  whether  I  shall  be 
fortunate  enough  to  persuade  you  of  this  truth. 
If  I  thought  that  a  letter  from  me  could  give 
you  as  much  pleasure,  how  willingly  I  should 
have  written!  I  remember  the  time  when  you 
received  such  epistles  with  transports  of  grati- 
tude, a  time  ever  present  to  my  mind,  whatever 
else  you  may  think.  If  you  could  read  in  my 
heart  as  easily  as  you  read  this  letter,  I  am  sure 
that  you  would  be  content,  or  else  you  would 
indeed  be  the  most  ungrateful  man  in  the  world  — 
and  that  I  will  not  believe."  *  Mazarin's  letters 
were  written  after  the  same  style:  "How  happy 
should  I  be,  how  satisfied  you  would  be,  could 
you  see  my  heart,  or  if  I  could  express  all  I  feel, 
even  but  half  of  what  I  feel!  Then,  indeed,  you 
would    acknowledge    that    never    was    affection 

1  Letter  of  July  30,  1660. 


CARDINAL  MAZARIN 
From  the  portrait  by  R.  Gaywood 


Marie  Mancini  19 

equal  to  that  which  I  experience  for  you.  I 
confess  that  I  could  scarcely,  beforehand,  have 
imagined  that  it  could  thus  take  away  all  taste 
and  liking  for  everything  that  is  not  you."^  He 
knew  his  power  and  liked  to  exert  it:  "Were 
you  near  the  sea,  I  think  you  would  be  happier; 
I  trust  you  may  be,  before  long."  In  their 
secret  language,  the  sea  was  himself.  What  an 
immeasurable  triumph,  what  a  tickling  of  vanity, 
what  a  delicious  feeling  of  mastership,  was  ex- 
perienced by  this  parvenu,  when  he  held  at  his 
mercy  one  of  the  proudest  princesses  that  ever 
lived ! 

Many  of  their  contemporaries  believed  in  a 
private  marriage.  To  this  there  was  no  abso- 
lute obstacle,  as  Mazarin  was  cardinal  without 
having  taken  orders.  But,  as  authentic  proofs 
are  lacking,  historians  vary,  and  will  never  come 
to  an  understanding.  Some  claim  that  the  queen's 
piety  would  never  have  allowed  her  to  take  a 
paramour.  Others  allege  her  pride,  which  could 
ill  brook  a  hosier  as  father-in-law,  would  have 
prevented  such  a  step.  Both  sides  quote  the 
documents  of  the  day,  and  these  would  be  pretty 
equally  balanced,  had  not  the  partisans  in  favour 
of  the  marriage  found  an  almost  unanswerable 
argument.  After  a  time  Mazarin  became  sin- 
gularly free  and  unceremonious  with  the  queen. 
The  attentions  and  caresses  were  mingled  with  a 
certain  roughness  and  neglect  which  smacked  of 

1  Letter  written  in  exile.  May  ii,  165 1. 


20  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

the  husband.  He  showed  himself  for  what  he 
really  was:  a  disagreeable  grumbler.  *'Noone," 
says  his  niece  Hortense,  "  ever  had  better  manners 
in  public  or  worse  at  home."^  Anne  of  Austria 
was  destined  to  know  both  the  good  and  the  bad 
manners.  It  must  be  confessed  that  such  things 
set  one  thinking. 

However  that  may  be,  the  love  of  the  queen 
for  Mazarin  was  so  deep  that  in  it  she  found 
the  strength  to  defend  him  against  all  things  and 
all  men,  in  spite  of  her  natural  indolence.  When 
he  left  her  she  was  beside  herself.  "She  seems 
distraught,"  said  a  libel  of  the  time,^  and  the 
expression  was  a  true  one.  It  is  not  our  mission 
to  recall  the  struggles  of  the  Fronde;  during  those 
troublous  times,  but  for  her  devotion  and  fidelity, 
Mazarin  would  inevitably  have  fallen  a  victim 
to  the  hatred  and  contempt  of  the  people.  He 
was  saved  by  prodigies  of  love,  and  he  knew  it. 
Henceforth  Mazarin  walked  on  clouds.  Down 
with  humility!  Give  way  to  the  veritable  sov- 
ereign of  France!  He  made  up  for  having  crept 
into  favour,  and  soon,  like  his  niece  Marie,  thought 
no  position  too  exalted  for  him  and  his :  the  throne 
itself  seemed  within  their  grasp.  He  had,  more- 
over, been  clever  enough  to  give  Louis  XIV 
brothers-in-law  of  whom  he  need  not  be  ashamed. 

The  eldest  of  the  Mancinis^  Laure,  in  1651,  had 
married    the    Duke    of    Mercoeur,    grandson    of 

1  Memoirs  of  the  duchess  of  Mazarin. 
'  L'Exorciste  de  la  reine. 


Marie  Mancini  21 

Henri  V  and  the  beautiful  Gabrielle.  The  fol- 
lowing year,  Anne -Marie  Martinozzi  was  wedded 
to  the  Prince  of  Conti,  brother  to  the  great  Conde 
and  of  royal  blood.  Then  came  the  turn  of  the 
second  Martinozzi,  who,  in  1655,  became  Duchess 
of  Modena.  In  1657  Olympe  Mancini  married 
Prince  Eugene  of  Carignan,  Count  of  Soissons, 
belonging  to  the  house  of  Savoie.  She  too  had 
dreamt  of  the  French  crown  and  had  touched  it 
with  the  tips  of  her  fingers.  Seeing  that  the  king 
did  not  seem  inclined  to  give  it  to  her,  she,  being 
of  a  practical  turn  of  mind,  turned  her  attention 
elsewhere.  Her  uncle  had  done  his  best  to  help 
her  to  climb  the  steps  of  the  throne,  but  "all  the 
astrologers  had  been  so  unanimous  in  assuring 
her  that  she  could  not  succeed  that  she  had 
giyen  up  all  thought  of  it. "  ^  The  beautiful 
Hortense  was  still  unmarried,  but  was  surrounded 
by  a  court  of  princely  admirers. 

With  his  nephews,  the  cardinal  was  less  lucky. 
Of  the  three,  two,  remarkably  gifted,  died  young. 
The  third,  whom  his  uncle  created  Duke  of  Nevers, 
was  a  brilliant  scatter-brain  and  good-for-nothing. 

He  could  do  without  the  boys.  Thanks  to 
the  ^irls,  the  family  appeared  able  to  withstand 
the  wildest  tempests.  The  giddy  heights  of 
prosperity  already  attained  made  the  ambitious 
dream  of  Marie  Mancini  seem  not  impossible. 
The  Court  was  ready  to  accept  it,  since  the 
king's  marriage  with  Olympe  had  been  seriously 

^  Histoire  de  Madame  Henriette  by  Madame  de  La  Fayette. 


22  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

considered.  Marie  thought  that,  in  this,  as  in  all 
things,  the  queen  would  be  guided  by  the  cardinal. 
As  to  her  uncle,  how  could  she  imagine  that  he 
woiild  not  rejoice  at  having  such  a  nephew  ? 


IV 


In  point  of  fact,  her  uncle  was  willing  enough. 
Had  Mazarin  been  a  saint  he  might  have  put  aside 
so  great  a  temptation;  but  he  was  no  saint. 
On  the  other  hand,  he  was  no  fool,  and  would 
never,  for  the  sake  of  vainglory,  have  given  up 
the  solid  advantages  which  he  already  possessed. 
He  loved  power  and  money;  he  meant  to  keep 
them;  the  grandeur  of  his  niece,  seated  on  the 
throne  of  France,  would  in  no  way  have  consoled 
him  for  their  loss.  One  must  never  lose  sight 
of  this  point  of  view  in  following  the  intricate 
and  difficult  game  played  by  the  cardinal  during 
this  crisis.  Monsieur  de  Brienne  ^  put  his  finger 
on  the  situation  when  he  said  in  his  "  Memoirs  " : 
' '  In  spite  of  all  that  his  Eminence  may  have  said 
on  the  subject,  if  the  marriage  of  his  Majesty 
with  his  niece  had  been  possible,  and  if  his  Emi- 
nence had  therein  found  his  own  security,  it  is 
certain  that  he  would  not  have  opposed  it.  His 
own  security:  that  was  the  point.  Ambitious, 
unscrupulous,  but  full  of  sagacity,  such  was  the 
uncle.     The  niece's  best  tactics  would  have  been 

1  Memoirs  of  Madame  de  Motteville. 


Marie  Mancini  23 

to  give  him  no  cause  for  alarm.  Unfortunately 
for  her  dream  of  happiness,  Marie  Mancini  was 
incapable  of  prudence.  She  was  too  violent,  too 
much  carried  away  by  her  own  fancies  to  be 
cunning," 

We  have  seen  that  the  king's  passion  for  Mad- 
emoiselle Mancini  burst  into  life  during  a  sojourn 
of  the  Court  at  Fontainebleau.  The  queen 
mother  saw  it  with  great  displeasure,  and  the 
"venerated  quality  of  the  niece "^  did  not  keep 
her  from  letting  the  uncle  understand  her  feelings 
on  the  subject  quite  plainly.  Whenever  the 
king  was  in  question,  the  cardinal  felt  his  hold 
upon  her  loosen.  The  indelible  memories  were 
obliterated,  and  Mazarin  saw  before  him  a  great 
princess,  as  haughty,  as  proud  of  her  blood,  as 
though  he  had  never  been  more  than  a  worm  at 
her  feet.  In  stormy  interviews,  she  spoke  with 
great  violence,  but  in  vain,  for  "the  king's  pas- 
sion was  at  first  fostered  by  the  minister."^ 
Marie  was  left  free  to  do  as  she  chose,  and  she 
fought  for  her  love  as  a  she-wolf  for  her  young. 
She  was  ever  at  the  king's  side,  ready  to  bite, 
her  dark  face  illumined  by  the  intensity  of  her 
passion.  Those  who  saw  her  said  that  she  was 
transfigured  by  the  expression,  touching,  as  well 
as  terrible,  of  her  countenance,  of  her  whole  being. 

Meanwhile,  negotiations  were  going  on  to  bring 
about  a  marriage  between  Louis  XIV  and  a  prin- 
cess of  Savoie.     This  alliance  was  not  distasteful 

»  Memoirs  of  Madame  de  Motteville. 


!'i4  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

to  the  cardinal,  for  the  King  of  France  would  then 
have  been  cousin  to  his  niece  Olympe.  How- 
ever, in  order  to  quiet  Marie,  he  allowed  her  to 
accompany  him  to  Lyons,  where  the  interview 
was  to  take  place.  The  Court  started  October 
the  26th,  1658.  Marie,  in  her  Apologie,  thus  de- 
scribes her  emotions  before  the  struggle:  "A 
great  storm  blew  up  which  disturbed  the  peace 
of  those  days,  but  it  soon  passed  away.  There 
was  a  project  of  union  between  the  king  and 
Princess  Marguerite  of  Savoie;  .  .  .  and  that 
forced  the  Court  to  journey  as  far  as  Lyons. 
Such  a  measure  was  cruel  to  a  heart  full  of  tender- 
ness. I  leave  this  point  to  the  imagination  of 
those  who  have  loved  and  who  know  what  it  is 
to  fear  the  loss  of  the  beloved  one,  especially  if 
that  one  is  high  above  all  other  men;  when  pride 
sanctions  the  beatings  of  the  heart,  and  when 
reason  herself  inclines  it  to  beat  yet  more.  ..." 
•  She  fought  valiantly.  She  went  from  Paris 
to  Lyons,  almost  all  the  way  on  horseback,  side 
by  side  with  the  king,  who  conversed  with  her 
"in  all  gallantry."*  At  the  halt,  every  evening, 
there  was  another  tete-d-tete.  They  would  talk 
thus,  four  or  five  hours  at  a  time,  with  the  un- 
tiring facility  of  lovers.  They  played  together, 
danced  together,  ate  together,  thought  together. 
It  was  more  than  an  obsession ;  it  was  possession, 
one  of  the  most  curious  examples  offered  by  his- 
tory of  the  melting  of  one  personality  in  another, 

*  Memoirs  of  Mademoiselle  de  Montpensier. 


Marie  Mancini  25 

and  that  without  the  help  of  any  of  the  means 
modem  science  sometimes  employs.  There 
seemed  no  possible  chance  left  for  the  king  to 
take  a  resolution  of  his  own  free  will;  his  very 
thoughts  were  suggested  to  him,  his  emotions 
imposed  on  him. 

It  was  in  these  dispositions  that  Lyons  was 
reached.  The  queen  mother  was  sad.  The  Sa- 
voie  marriage  was  not  to  her  taste  —  she  wished 
for  the  Infanta  of  Spain  —  and  she  feared  the 
wiles  of  "that  girl,"  should  the  affair  not  succeed. 
Mazarin  was  serene,  for  he  possessed  the  means 
of  breaking  off  the  union  with  Savoie,  should  he 
see  fit  to  do  so.  At  Macon  he  had  met  Pimentel, 
the  emissary  from  Spain,  who  had  come  to  offer 
the  Infanta  to  Louis  XIV,  and  he  had  hidden  the 
Spaniard,  sure  of  being  able  to  produce  him  if 
the  proper  moment  should  come.  The  comedy 
was  so  well  combined  and  so  admirably  played 
that  the  contemporaries  were  deceived  and  be- 
lieved in -the  providential  appearance  of  Pimentel 
at  Lyons,  during  the  interview  with  the  Princess 
of  Savoie.  Monsieur  Chant elauze  discovered  that, 
on  this  occasion,  Providence  wore  a  red  robe  and 
spoke  with  a  strong  Italian  accent.  The  proofs 
thereof  are  at  the  Archives  of  the  Ministry  of 
Foreign  Affairs.  It  is  not  over-bold  to  state  that 
Mazarin  kept  his  eyes  wide  open  and,  during  the 
journey,  followed  the  progress  of  Marie's  intimacy 
with  the  king,  and  that  this  was  not  without 
some   influence   on   the   amazing   appearance   of 


26  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

the  Spanish  envoy  on  the  stage.  As  to  his  Emi- 
nence's meditations  between  Macon  and  Lyons, 
it  would  be  impossible  to  unravel  so  tangled  a 
skein. 

All  we  know  is  that  he  kept  his  secret,  and 
that  his  was  the  first  coach  that  went  to  meet 
the  court  of  Savoie.  The  queen  followed  with 
her  son.  Marie  Mancini  remained  behind,  eating 
her  heart,  never  guessing  what  was  happening  on 
the  road  to  Italy.  The  two  courts  had  met,  and 
Princess  Marguerite  had  appeared  so  irremedi- 
ably plain,  so  lacking  in  charm  and  grace,  that  all 
French  eyes  were  offended  by  the  sight  —  all 
except  those  of  the  king.  He  was  ready  to  fall 
in  love  on  the  spot.  As  soon  as  he  was  out  of 
the  imperious  presence  of  Mademoiselle  Mancini, 
he  was  free  once  more.  Explain  it  as  one  can, 
the  fascination  vanished  with  the  charmer.  Of 
a  sudden  the  love-lorn  swain  disappeared.  There 
remained  a  youth  to  whom  a  bride  is  offered,  a 
youth  not  hard  to  please  and  who  greatly  wished 
to  be  married.  The  king  stepped  into  the  same 
coach  with  the  princess  and  spoke  to  her,  in  a 
tone  of  great  confidence,  of  his  musketeers  and 
his  men  at  arms.  She  answered  after  the  same 
fashion.  They  might  have  known  each  other  all 
their  lives.  Marie  seemed  forgotten.  The  Duchess 
of  Savoie  looked  on  this  touching  spectacle  with 
tender  delight,  the  Court  of  France  with  amaze- 
ment, the  queen  mother  with  consternation. 

The  evening  of  this  strange  day  was  agitated. 


Marie  Mancini  27 

The  queen,  haunted  by  the  ugly  face  of  the  prin- 
cess, pleaded  with  her  son,  reasoned  with  him,, 
wept,  and  his  answer  was:  "I  will  have  her,"^  — 
and  that  "after  all,  he  was  the  master."  She 
applied  to  the  cardinal,  who  very  coldly  answered 
that  "it  was  none  of  his  business  and  that  he 
would  not  meddle  with  it."  She  entreated  Heaven 
to  have  pity  on  her  and  ordered  prayers  to  be 
offered  up  in  the  convents  for  the  rupture  of  this 
marriage.  In  her  distress,  she  forgot  that,  close 
at  hand,  was  help,  far  more  powerful  than  that 
which  she  could  obtain  from  all  the  monks  and 
nuns  of  the  kingdom;  that  she  had  only  to  let 
Marie  Mancini  take  the  field  and  that  poor 
little  Princess  Marguerite  would  at  once  sink  into 
nothingness.  If  the  queen  did  not  think  of  this, 
Marie  did.     The  execution  was  a  short  one. 

She  had  watched  the  return  of  the  carriages 
and  had  seized  the  Grande  Mademoiselle  to  learn 
from  her  what  had  happened.  If  resigned  and 
plaintive,  she  was  lost.  She  was  bold  enough 
to  show  her  jealousy,^  and  that  evening  the  king 
had  to  submit  to  a  scene  of  great  violence:  "Are 
you  not  ashamed,"  she  said,  "to  accept  an  ugly 
wife?"^  Then  came  a  storm  of  reproaches,  of 
sarcasms,  addressed  to  the  "hunchback,"  and  a 
thousand  words,  eloquent,  harsh,  impudent,  and 
burning.     The  king  was  completely  stunned.    The 

1  Memoirs  of  Madame  de  Motteville. 
'  Mem.oirs  of  Madame  de  Motteville. 
^  Memoirs  of  Mademoiselle  de  Montpensier. 


28  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

next  day,  he  seemed  to  have  forgotten  the  pres- 
ence of  Marguerite.  Marie  Mancini  resumed  her 
post  by  his  side,  and  together  they  regaled  the 
court  of  Savoie  with  the  spectacle  of  their  pas- 
sionate devotion.  Mazarin  put  a  stop  to  these 
indecorous  scenes  by  producing  the  Spanish 
envoy  and  breaking  with  Savoie.  This  is  how 
Marie  tells  the  story  of  her  victory:  "As  my 
sorrow  was  violent,  it  had  the  destiny  of  all 
violent  emotions:  it  did  not  last  long,  and  the 
king's  marriage  was  broken  as  rapidly  as  it  had 
been  prepared.  .  .  .  Their  Highnesses  returned 
to  Savoie,  and  my  heart  recovered  its  pristine 
peace."  ^ 

The  following  months  bring  to  mind  the  love 
duet  of  Rodrigue  and  Chimene.  Certain  that 
she  was  loved,  Marie  grew  gentler.  It  was  the 
flowering  season  of  a  youthful  and  poetical  pas- 
sion. The  days  were  not  long  enough  for  the 
oft-repeated  "I  love  you!"  On  moon-lit  even- 
ings, the  same  sweet  words  were  said  again. 
When,  at  last,  Marie  returned  home,  the  king 
took  the  place  of  her  coachman  so  as  to  breathe 
the  same  air  as  she.  To  please  her,  he  imagined 
all  kinds  of  romantic  follies.  He  made  of  her 
life  a  perpetual  festival,  and  ordered  his  cour- 
tiers to  invent,  for  each  day,  some  new  pleasure 
for  his  divinity.  Needless  to  say  that  the  cour- 
tiers vied  with  each  other.  To  the  revels,  none 
were  invited  except  young  and  amorous  couples, 

1  "Apologie." 


Marie  Mancini  29 

and  the  brain  whirled  in  this  atmosphere  of  perpet- 
ual excitement:  "I  should  need  a  whole  volume," 
writes  Marie,  "if  I  wanted  to  describe  all  the  adven- 
tures of  these  gallant  festivities.  I  shall  content 
myself  with  one,  chosen  out  of  many  others, 
which  will  show  how  devoted  was  the  king  and 
how  eagerly  he  took  advantage  of  every  occasion 
to  proclaim  this  devotion.  It  was,  if  I  remember 
right,  at  Bois-le-Vicomte,  in  an  avenue  where,  as 
I  was  walking  rapidly,  the  king  sought  to  give  me 
his  hand,  and  having  ever  so  lightly  struck  mine 
against  his  sword  handle,  with  a  charming  ges- 
ture of  anger,  he  drew  the  sword  from  its  scab- 
bard and  threw  it  away,  I  cannot  say  how 
gallantly ;  there  are  no  words  to  express  it ! " 
What  charming,  juvenile,  and  sprightly  tender- 
ness !  Nothing  can  be  prettier  than  this  explosion 
of  anger. 

The  enchantment  lasted  all  winter  (1658- 
1659).  Mazarin,  with  great  complacency,  looked 
on.  He  meant  always  to  govern  his  niece  and, 
by  her,  the  king  who,  visibly,  was  getting  restless 
in  his  leading  strings.  Louis  had  the  audacity 
to  confer  favours.  The  cardinal  had  roughly 
checked  these  attempts  at  revolt,  but  a  certain 
unacknowledged  uneasiness  resulted  from  them. 
With  Marie  on  the  throne,  he  would  become  more 
powerful  than  ever.  Anne  of  Austria  would  be 
indignant,  but  Anne  of  Austria  was  the  past,  and 
Mazarin  was  ungrateful.  Besides,  he  knew  how 
to  bend  her  will. 


30  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

He  had  a  conversation  with  his  niece.  Marie 
told  him  that  it  would  not  be  impossible  for  her 
to  become  queen  if  only  he  would  help  her.  He 
could  not  refuse  to  play  his  part  in  so  fine  a  game 
and  spoke  one  day  to  the  queen  mother,  making 
fun  of  his  niece's  folly,  but  after  so  ambiguous 
a  fashion  that  he  led  her  to  understand  his  real 
thoughts.  Her  answer  came  like  a  blow.  "I  do 
not  think,  Cardinal,  that  the  king  is  capable  of  so 
base  an  act ;  but  should  he  commit  it,  I  warn  you 
that  the  whole  of  France  would  rise  against  you 
and  him;  that  I,  myself,  would  head  the  revolt 
and  do  my  best  to  drag  my  son  after  me." 

Mazarin  remained  stunned  by  this  speech, 
which  he  never  forgave,  and  for  which  he  avenged 
himself  after  a  truly  conjugal  fashion.  He  bowed, 
and  waited.  His  niece  lost  the  game  by  her  im- 
prudence and  impatience.  It  would  have  been 
as  easy  to  imprison  lightning  in  a  cloud  as  to  pre- 
vent an  explosion  from  Marie  Mancini.  She  went 
her  way,  regardless  of  the  fact  that  she  was 
alone.  So  much  the  worse  for  her  uncle  if  he 
abandoned  her;  later,  she  would  break  his 
power.  She  had  no  sooner  determined  upon  her 
course  than  she  set  to  work.  She  told  the  whole 
tale  to  the  king,  with  her  accustomed  fury.  She 
ridiculed  the  cardinal  from  morning  to  night; 
this  greatly  amused  his  Majesty.  Before  long, 
Mazarin  asked  himself  whether  the  day  of  her 
coronation  would  not  be  that  of  his  disgrace. 
This  suspicion  enlightened  his  soul  and  revealed 


-t   '^    M 


ANNE   OF   AUSTRIA 
After  the  portrait  by  S.  Harding 


Marie  Mancini  31 

to  him  the  beauty  of  unselfishness.  We  must 
remember  what  Brienne  said  on  the  subject  of 
the  marriage:  "If  his  Eminence  sees  in  it  secu- 
rity for  himself."  That  security  had  disappeared 
with  Marie's  imprudence.  She  paid  the  pen- 
alty of  her  recklessness  with  the  loss  of  a  throne. 
Mazarin  now  turned  completely  around  and 
wished  to  have  the  benefit  of  his  conversion. 
He  became  inflexible:  everything  must  be  sacri- 
ficed to  the  welfare  of  the  state  and  the  dignity 
of  the  king.  He  took  the  attitude  of  a  "hero 
who  despised  a  crown,"  ^  gave  himself  heart 
and  soul  to  furthering  the  Spanish  marriage  and 
breathed  the  incense  due  to  virtue.  Marie  fought 
with  desperation.  It  was  the  moment  of  her 
life  when  she  was  most  interesting. 


V 


She  had  to  depend  on  herself  alone,  as  the 
whole  family  trembled  at  the  thought  that  the 
cardinal  might  fall;  she  had  no  other  arms  than 
her  keen  mind  and  her  peculiar  fascination. 
She  had  grown  prettier;  her  lips  were  very  red, 
her  teeth  very  white,  her  hair  very  black,  and 
her  complexion  less  sallow.  She  was,  however, 
as  yet,  no  beauty.  Her  nose  was  clumsy;  her 
mouth  and  eyes,  almost  out  of  drawing,  turned 
upward  at  the  corners ;  her  cheeks  were  too  heavy, 

1  Memoirs  of  Choisy. 


32  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

giving  her  a  somewhat  common  appearance. 
But  all  that  mattered  so  little!  With  a  beauti- 
ful face  could  she  have  had  greater  power  ?  This 
singular  power,  to  which  others  beside  Louis  XIV 
submitted,  consisted  in  a  sort  of  voluptuous  fas- 
cination which  deprived  men  of  their  reason  and 
made  of  them  her  captives.  Luckily  for  them, 
she  was  as  capricious  as  alluring;  this  sorceress 
could  never,  long,  follow  one  idea. 

She  was  never  accused  of  intrigue  or  perfidy. 
She  went  her  way,  breaking  down  all  obstacles. 
She  treated  Anne  of  Austria,  who  opposed  her, 
with  the  greatest  insolence.  She  would  follow 
the  king  even  to  his  mother's  chamber,  whisper- 
ing in  his  ear  the  gossip  and  calumnies  of  which 
the  queen  was  the  victim.  Under  her  influence, 
the  most  respectful  of  sons  became  insolent.  One 
day  when,  as  he  refused  to  obey  her,  Anne  men- 
aced to  take  refuge  at  the  Val-de-Grace,  he  an- 
swered ' '  that  she  might  go. "  The  cardinal  brought 
about  a  reconciliation.^ 

Marie  defied  her  uncle  so  outrageously  that  his 
last  scruples  abandoned  him;  she  tried  to  blacken 
the  Infanta  of  Spain  to  the  king.  Whoever 
spoke  in  favour  of  this  princess  incurred  the  hatred 
of  this  terrible  girl ;  a  Spanish  lady,  for  this  crime, 
was  driven  from  the  Louvre. 

The  king  was  bound  to  her  so  securely  that, 
even  during  his  absence,  he  felt  her  tyranny;  she 
was  determined  that,  at  any  cost,  the  events  of 

'  Memoirs  of  Mademoiselle  de  Montpensier. 


Marie  Mancini  33 

Lyons  should  not  be  repeated.  What  remained 
of  common  sense  in  the  young  prince's  brain  was 
drowned  in  a  torrent  of  passion.  Burning  vows, 
savage  anger,  loving  and  caressing  words,  — he 
knew  them  all,  enjoyed  them  all,  and  lived  in  a 
state  of  perpetual  intoxication.  He  was  no 
longer  his  own  master;  he  belonged  to  a  pair  of 
black  eyes  v/hich  looked  into  his  at  all  hours  of 
the  day,  at  meals,  during  the  walks,  at  the  card 
table,  in  the  ballroom,  in  all  the  nooks  and  cor- 
ners of  the  palace;  these  eyes,  full  of  dangerous 
fire,  were  seconded  by  the  murmur  of  a  voice 
both  tender  and  tragic. 

It  has  been  said  that,  in  all  this  wild  passion, 
there  was  no  love;  that  both  he  and  she  were 
incapable  of  loving,  for  his  heart  was  hard  and 
full  of  himself,  whereas  she,  in  spite  of  all  her 
ardour,  carried  her  heart  in  her  brain ;  that  each 
deceived  the  other,  being  meanwhile  deceived, 
taking  the  appearance  of  love  for  love  itself. 

It  would  be  a  bold  thing  to  assert  that  all  this 
wild  passion  was  mere  comedy  with  Marie  Man- 
cini, mere  sensuality  with  Louis  XIV.  There  are 
many  kinds  of  love,  even  when  the  heart  has  but 
little  part  in  it:  love  through  reason  or  instinct; 
out  of  interest,  duty,  vanity,  habit;  with  the 
whole  soul  or  with  the  whole  body;  and  after  a 
hundred  other  fashions,  too  numerous  to  mention. 
Those  feelings  which  spring  from  inferior  sources 
bear  the  stigma  of  their  origin.  They,  neverthe- 
less, are  genuine,  and  we  should  bless  them,  for 


34  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

do  they  not  fill  the  emptiness  of  many  hearts? 
We  think  we  love,  and  yet  our  love  is  but  a  form 
of  our  egotism,  of  routine,  or  of  a  coarse  impulse. 
Nature  has  willed  this  deceit,  lest  we  should  dis- 
cover at  twenty  that  we  are  incapable  of  love, 
for  that  would  be  sad  indeed.  During  a  whole 
year  Louis  XIV  and  Marie  Mancini  really  believed 
that  they  loved  wildly  enough  to  die  of  their  pas- 
sion. Let  no  one  despise  a  feeling  capable  of 
giving  so  precious  an  illusion. 

Meanwhile,  during  the  winter  and  spring  of 
1659,  the  negotiations  with  Spain  had  been  going 
on.  Things  were  in  the  state  we  have  seen,  when 
Mazarin  prepared  to  leave  for  Saint -Jean-de-Luz, 
where  he  was  to  meet  the  Spanish  minister,  Don 
Luis  de  Harp.  A  hundred  times  a  day,  the  king 
and  Marie  swore  eternal  and  reciprocal  fidelity. 
Anne  of  Austria,  at  last,  understood  that  this 
state  of  things  could  not  continue  and  that  she 
must  get  rid  of  Marie  before  pledging  her  son  to 
the  Infanta.  The  cardinal  alone  could  help  her 
in  this  dilemma,  and  she  was  by  no  means  sure 
that  he  would  be  willing  to  do  so.  He  was  un- 
kind to  her,  rough,  making  fun  of  her,  keeping 
the  purse  strings  tightly  in  his  own  grasp,  speak- 
ing of  her  to  the  king  in  no  measured  terms.  The 
queen  confided  to  her  intimate  friends  that  "the 
cardinal  was  so  cross  and  stingy  that  there  was 
no  living  with  him."^  She  was  losing  her  illu- 
sions  with    regard   to   her   handsome,    perfumed 

*  Memoirs  of  Madame  de  Motteville. 


Marie  Mancini  35 

favourite,  with  his  coquettish  moustaches.  The 
convictions  that  his  inspirations  were  low,  that  he 
was  nothing  but  a  parvenu,  had  not  yet  entered 
her  mind,  but  the  thought  hovered  not  very  far 
away. 

Great  was  her  dehght,  extreme  her  gratitude 
and  admiration,  when,  at  the  first  word  she  ven- 
tured to  stammer  on  the  necessity  of  separating 
the  lovers,  she  found  his  Eminence  as  eager  as 
herself  to  exile  Marie.  Mazarin  played  his  part 
like  the  great  actor  that  he  really  was.  The 
queen  never  suspected  his  sincerity.  Her  eyes 
once  more  were  blinded;  she  reproached  herself 
for  having  doubted  his  love  of  the  public  weal, 
and  made  up  for  it  by  great  praise,  leaving  to 
him  all  the  honour  of  his  patriotic  abnegation. 
They  agreed  that  Marie  Mancini  should  be  sent 
to  the  castle  of  Brouage,  near  La  Rochelle. 

One  can  imagine  the  thunderbolt.  The  king's 
sorrow  at  first  was  wild  enough.  He  wept,  but 
he  listened  to  his  mother.  When  he  saw  Marie, 
however,  when  he  witnessed  her  despair,  listened 
to  her  sobs,  her  bitter  reproaches,  her  heart- 
rending wailings,  his  sorrow  almost  equalled  her 
own.  He  rushed  into  the  presence  of  the  queen 
and  the  cardinal,  crying  out  that  it  was  impossible 
for  him  to  see  Marie  ' '  suffer  for  love  of  him  " ;  * 
that  he  would  marry  her,  that  he  begged  and 
prayed  of  them  to  consent.  He  threw  himself 
on  his  knees  ^  and  showed  a  grief  so  genuine  that 

1  Motteville.  ^  Montpensier. 


3^  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

his  mother  was  greatly  moved.  Mazarin  re- 
mained firm  and  answered  "that  he  was  master 
of  his  niece  and  that  he  would  stab  her  rather 
than  consent  to  so  great  an  act  of  treason."* 
The  king's  tears  flowed  anew;  he  vowed  that  he 
would  marry  no  other  woman;  nevertheless,  he 
allowed  things  to  follow  their  course.  As  to 
Marie,  her  despair  was  deep  and  savage. 

"  Elle  n'entend  ni  pleurs,  ni  conseil,  ni  raison, 
Elle  implore  a  grands  cris  le  fer  et  le  poison." 

Thus,  Racine  shows  us  Berenice  exiled  from 
Rome  by  Titus;  so  also  appeared,  to  the  eyes  of 
the  court  and  of  France,  the  passionate  Mancini 
driven  from  Paris.  Every  one  knows  that  Ra- 
cine's play  is  supposed  to  be  the  poetical  trans- 
lation of  the  amorous  drama  which  ended  at 
Brouage.^  The  tragedy  of  "  Berenice  "  is  usually 
called  elegiac;  the  "gentle  Racine"  shows  here 
that  he  can  be  strong  even  to  brutality.  No 
mistress  abandoned  by  her  lover  could  utter 
more  terrible  imprecations  than  did  Berenice. 
She  uses  magnificent  verse,  but  the  sentim.ents 
expressed  are  as  violent,  for  example,  as  those  of 
Daudet's  Sapho.  Those  who  wish  to  understand 
Marie  Mancini  should  reperuse  Racine's  passion- 


1  Motteville. 

^  M.  Felix  H6mon,  in  his  excellent  work:  "  ThdStre  de  Pierre 
Comeille  "  (Delagrave)  gives  interesting  details  as  to  the  origin  of 
Racine's  Berenice  and  as  to  "  Tite  et  Bdr^nice  of  Comeille." 


Marie  Mancini  37 

ate  and  powerful  scenes  from  the  moment  when 
Berenice  exclaims  wildly : 

"  He  !  bien,  il  est  done  vrai  que  Titus  m'abandonne ! 
II  faut  nous  separer  !  et  c'est  lui  qui  I'ordonne  !" 

The  dialogue  which  follows  is  admirably  true  to 
nature.  No  poet  ever  noted  with  more  subtlety 
the  various  feelings  of  a  woman  abandoned  by 
the  man  she  loves;  this  is  easy  to  understand: 
Racine  did  but  follow  step  by  step  the  story  of 
Louis  XIV  and  Marie  Mancini,  as  all  their  contem- 
poraries followed  it,  as  these  have  told  it  in  their 
memoirs. 

Berenice  begins  by  reproaching  Titus  with  his 
treachery.  Why  should  he  have  encouraged  her 
hopes  if  he  did  not  mean  to  marry  her  ?  Why  did 
he  not  say  to  her : 

"Ne  donne  point  un  coeur  qu'on  ne  peut  recevoir  "? 

After  the  reproaches,  when  she  sees  her  lover 
moved,  comes  the  expression  of  her  tenderness: 

"Ah,  Seigneur!  s'il  est  vrai,  pourquoi  nous  separer?" 

When  he  refuses  to  yield,  she  threatens  to  kill 
herself,  rushes  away,  comes  back  when  she  dis- 
covers that  Titus  does  not  follow  her,  and  bursts 
into  violent  upbraidings : 

"...  Pourquoi  vous  montrer  k  ma  vue? 
Pourquoi  venir  encore  aigrir  mon  d^sespoir?  " 
N'etes-vous  pas  content?   Je  ne  veux  plus  vous  voir." 


38  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

From  anger,  she  then  passes  to  irony: 

"Etes-vous  pleinement  content  de  votre  glorie? 
Aves-vous  bien  promis  d'oublier  ma  memoire?  " 

B^r^nice,  after  more  reproaches,  lets  herself 
fall  on  a  chair.  Daudet's  Sapho  rolls  on  the  floor: 
this  is  a  mere  question  of  education.  With  both, 
it  is  the  final  nervous  crisis,  to  which  Marie  Man- 
cini  will  also  be  subjected. 

In  many  a  book  and  play,  since  Racine,  we 
have  seen  a  man  break  with  his  mistress.  No- 
where have  we  encountered  a  more  -  passionate 
and  clinging  mistress  than  Berenice.  A  little 
later,  we  shall  examine  the  sudden  change  of  the 
fifth  act,  when  B^r^nice  gives  up  the  struggle. 
The  episode  which  furnished  Racine  with  his 
concluding  scenes  took  place  at  Brouage,  Sep- 
tember, 1659.  For  the  moment,  we  are  still  at 
the  Louvre,  June  2 2d.  Marie  Mancini  has  not 
yet  exhausted  all  her  furious  anger. 

It  was  excessive,  like  all  which  came  from 
that  volcano.  The  king,  beside  himself,  wept 
and  cried  out  with  her,  renewed  his  vows,  yet, 
still  weeping,  conducted  her  to  the  travelling 
coach.  The  celebrated  exclamation  uttered  at 
parting  is  the  only  one  which  Racine  weakened 
when  he  said : 

"  Vous  etes  empereur,  Seigneur,  et  vous  pleurez!" 

Madame  de  Motteville  and  Madame  de  La 
Fayette  both  give  the  same  version  of  Marie's 


Marie  Mancini  39 

words,  "You  weep  —  and  you  are  the  master!" 
which  is  much  stronger.  But  the  truth  is  stronger 
still.  In  her  Memoirs,  Marie  gives  her  own  words 
as  these,  "  'Sire,  you  are  king  and  you  love  me, 
why  do  you  let  me  go?'  .  .  .  Upon  which,  as 
he  was  silent,  I  tore  his  lace  ruffle,  saying,  'Ah, 
I  am  forsaken! '" 

Here  we  have  the  real  Marie  Mancini.  When 
she  sees  that  all  is  over,  that  the  king  allows 
her  to  leave  him,  she  clutches  hold  of  him,  tears 
his  lace  furiously  and  exclaims:  "Ah!  I  am  for- 
saken!" She  recalls  Sapho  even  more  than 
Berenice. 

VI 

This  stormy  departure  provoked  other  storms. 
The  king,  like  a  madman,  rushed  off  to  Chantilly, 
where  his  sorrow,  instead  of  diminishing,  turned 
to  a  veritable  paroxysm.  He  had  had  the  courage 
to  let  Mademoiselle  Mancini  leave  him :  dimisit  in- 
vitus  invitam;  yet  it  seemed  to  him  impossible  to 
live  without  her.  As  to  Marie,  she  was  a  pitiable 
object.  She  was  ill,  half  fainting,  fever  seized  her, 
she  was  worn  out.  When  the  cardinal  met  her  on 
the  road  to  Brouage,  having  himself  started  for 
Saint- Jean-de-Luz,  he  wrote  to  the  queen,^  "Her 
grief  exceeds  my  power  to  describe  it."  Many 
years  later,  she  herself  could  not  find  words  strong 
enough  to  express  this  immense  despair:  "Never, 

*  Letter  of  June  29,  1659. 


40  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

in  all  my  life,  have  I  felt  my  soul  more  harrowed. 
The  worst  torments  seem  but  trifles  compared 
with  so  cruel  an  absence,  with  the  vanishing  of 
hopes  so  tender  and  so  high.  I  longed  for  death 
as  the  only  possible  end  of  my  woes.  I  was  in  a 
state  so  dreadful  that  nothing  I  can  say  would 
ever  picture  it."  ^ 

In  the  midst  of  this  anguish,  Marie  made  use  of 
a  childish  feint,  which,  however,  succeeded.  She 
pretended  that  she  was  resigned.  Her  uncle 
allowed  himself  to  be  deceived  and  announced 
this  good  news  to  the  queen,  ' '  She  assures  me  that 
she  is  submissive  and  that  she  surrenders  herself 
to  me."  So  praiseworthy  a  conduct  called  for  a 
reward.  It  came  in  the  person  of  a  musketeer. 
"He  brought  me,"  says  Marie,  "five  letters  from 
the  king,  very  long  and  very  tender. ' '  The  cardinal 
was  generous  enough  to  allow  the  messenger  to 
take  back  an  answer,  and  a  regular  correspondence 
was  established,  which,  unfortunately,  we  do  not 
possess,  but  at  which  we  can  guess  by  the  effect 
produced.  On  June  29th  the  king  wrote  to  his 
mother  a  dutiful  and  respectful  letter  in  which  he 
said  that  "he  appreciated  the  motives  of  her  re- 
sistance."^ Fifteen  days  later,  the  cardinal, 
about  to  enter  Saint- Jean-de-Luz,  received  such 
news  of  the  relations  between  mother  and  son 
that  he  wrote  to  the  former :  "  I  fear  that  I  shall 
go  out  of  my  mind ;  I  can  neither  eat  nor  sleep ; 
I   am   overwhelmed  with    anxiety   and   sorrow." 

*  Apologie.  *  Memoirs  of  Madame  de  Motteville. 


Marie  Mancini  41 

(Cadillac,  July  i6th,  1659.)  The  same  courier 
took  a  long  letter  to  the  king  which  reflects  the 
situation  as  in  a  mirror : 

' '  I  have  seen  what  the  confidante  ^  writes  about 
your  sorrow  and  how  you  treat  her.   .   .   . 

"The  letters  from  Paris,  Flanders,  and  other 
places,  assert  that,  since  my  departure,  you  are 
terribly  changed,  not  on  account  of  me  but  on 
account  of  some  one  who  belongs  to  me,  that  you 
have  made  promises  which  keep  you  from  giving 
peace  to  all  Christendom.   .   .   . 

"It  is  said  (and  this  is  confirmed  by  letters  ad- 
dressed from  the  court  to  persons  of  my  suite)  .  .  . 
that  you  shut  yourself  up  continually  to  write  to 
the  person  3^ou  love,  that  in  that  way  you  lose 
more  time  than  you  used  to  do  conversing  with 
her  when  she  was  still  at  court.   .   .   . 

"It  is  said  that  you  have  quarrelled  with  the 
queen,  whom  you  avoid  as  much  as  possible." 

He  reproached  the  king  with  encouraging  his 
niece's  revolt  by  promising  to  marry  her;  he  pic- 
tured the  results  of  such  a  deed:  a  rupture  with 
Spain;  war,  and  a  third  Fronde;  he  threatened  to 
retire  to  Italy,  taking  his  niece  with  him,  if  his 
young  master  did  not  give  up  a  passion  which  had 
become  the  derision  of  all  Europe.  He  repeated 
his  supplications,  sending  letter  after  letter,  and 
was  terror-stricken  when  he  learned  that  Louis  XIV 
was  determined  to  see  Marie  once  more,  at  the  very 
time  when  he  was  expected  in  the  Pyrenees  for  his 

*  Term  used  to  designate  the  queen ;  the  king  was  the  confident. 


42  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

marriage  with  the  Infanta.  But  letters  and  sup- 
phcations  were  of  no  avail.  Thanks  to  the  weak- 
ness of  Anne  of  Austria,  the  interview  took  place 
at  Saint -Jean-d'Ang61y,  on  the  loth  of  August. 
The  love  ecstasies  were  touching,  the  farewell 
accompanied  by  gentle  tears  only,  for  the  lovers 
swore  eternal  constancy. 

They  agreed  to  lay  siege  to  the  cardinal,  to  per- 
suade him  of  his  niece's  tender  love  for  him. 
Marie  wrote  many  letters  to  her  uncle,  but  a  Maza- 
rin  is  not  twice  hoodwinked  by  a  little  girl.  He 
wrote  to  Madame  de  Venel,  her  governess : 

"My  niece  has  taken  a  fancy  to  write  to  me 
oftener  than  is  needful.  I  beg  you  to  insist  that 
she  should  not  give  herself  so  much  trouble.  I 
know  what  is  in  her  mind  and  heart ;  I  also  know 
what  to  think  of  her  affection  for  me." 

To  the  king,  he  wrote: 

"I  begin  by  answering  what  you  say  in  your 
letter  of  the  23d  (August)  about  the  tenderness  of 
a  certain  person  toward  me,  and  about  all  the 
other  pretty  things  you  say  of  her. 

"I  am  by  no  means  surprised  that  you  should 
speak  thus,  for  it  is  your  passion  which  blinds  you; 
otherwise  you  would  agree  with  me  that  this 
person  is  by  no  means  fond  of  me,  but  rather  hates 
me,  because  I  do  not  favour  her  wild  folly ;  that  she 
is  eaten  up  with  ambition,  has  a  distorted  and 
violent  nature,  no  dignity  in  her  conduct,  and  that 
she  is  ready  to  commit  a  thousand  absurdities; 
that  she  is  madder  than  ever  since  she  had  the 


Marie  Mancini  43 

honour  of  seeing  you  at  Saint- Jean-d'Angely  and 
that,  instead  of  two  letters  a  week,  she  now 
receives  one  from  you  every  day ;  before  long,  you 
will  acknowledge  that  she  has  a  thousand  weak- 
nesses and  not  one  quality  that  justifies  your  good 
will  toward  her." 

He  filled  eighteen  pages  with  much  the  same 
matter  and  renewed  his  menace  of  retiring  to 
Italy.  The  king's  answer  reached  him  on  the  ist 
of  September.  It  was  short.  The  king  wrote 
* '  that  the  cardinal  must  do  as  he  chose  and  that  if 
he  gave  up  public  affairs,  others  would  gladly  take 
charge  of  them."  ^  On  the  receipt  of  this  note, 
Mazarin  was  bound  to  recognise  that  his  mad  niece 
with  her  "distorted  nature"  was  an  adversary 
worthy  of  his  steel. 

She  had  done  wonders  in  her  sorry  exile  of 
Brouage.  She  had  not  lost  a  day.  According 
to  the  family  custom,  she  had  called  in  an  astrolo- 
ger to  know  what  chances  she  had  of  winning  the 
crown.  This  astrologer  was  an  Arab.  He  drew 
up  all  manner  of  horoscopes  and  took  care  that 
they  shotild  be  favourable.  He,  besides,  gave  her 
lessons  in  his  art  so  that  she  might,  unaided,  peep 
into  the  future.  The  Arab  strengthened  her  belief 
in  herself,  and  we  know  that  faith  can  move 
mountains. 

She  was  penniless,  closely  watched,  surrounded 
with  spies:  She  persuaded  the  spies  that  she  was 
their  future  queen,  and  they  devoted  themselves 

*  Memoirs  of  Choisy. 


44  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

to  her,  body  and  soul.  Money  flowed  in.  This 
money  secured  the  services  of  unscrupulous  per- 
sons, ready  for  any  adventure:  among  these  was 
her  brother,  whom  their  uncle,  on  account  of  his 
scandalous  debauchery,  had  cast  into  prison;  she 
set  him  free.  Her  star  was  in  the  ascendant,  and 
Mazarin,  on  the  verge  of  the  precipice,  was  aware 
that  Marie  would  never  forgive  the  exile  of 
Brouage :  ' '  since  his  departure,  she  vowed  that  she 
hated  him  more  than  ever."  ^  Despair  had  well 
nigh  taken  possession  of  him.  He  still  struggled, 
but  feebly,  and  without  Anne  of  Austria  he  might 
have  succumbed.  The  queen's  letters  were  his 
consolation  and  his  stay.  They  were  full  of  affec- 
tion and  devotion.  She  considered  it  so  magnan- 
imous of  her  handsome  Mazarin  to  have  given 
up  the  throne  for  his  niece,  that  she  was  his,  more 
than  ever.  On  the  other  hand,  his  danger  had 
very  opportunely  revived  the  cardinal's  somno- 
lent passion,  so  that  their  correspondence  was  a 
veritable  love  duet. 

The  other  nieces,  the  court,  all  Europe,  followed 
with  impatient  curiosity  and  varying  emotions 
this  duel  between  the  all-powerful  cardinal  and  a 
mere  girl.  The  Mazarines  trembled.  These  bold 
parvenues  had  not  forgotten  the  days  when  the 
Paris  rabble,  seeing  them  enter  the  Louvre,  called 
out  against  the  "little  fish -monger  s. "  In  their 
palaces,  surrounded  by  a  court  more  brilliant  than 
that  of  the   king,   they  knew  that  their  uncle's 

1    Memoirs  of  Madame  de  Motteville. 


Marie  Mancini  45 

disgrace  would  be,  for  them,  the  stroke  of  the 
wand  that  changes  castles  into  huts  and  rich 
garments  into  rags;  their  terror  was  great.  The 
Ahh6  Choisy  relates  that  they  already  saw  them- 
selves tumbled  back  into  poverty.  They  were  by 
no  means  reassured  by  the  fact  that  the  cardinal's 
power  was  threatened  by  one  of  themselves,  and 
in  that  they  were  right.  The  Mazarines  could  not 
depend  much  on  family  affections. 

The  court  was  divided  between  the  horror  of 
such  a  deplorable  marriage  and  the  hope  of  being 
rid  of  the  cardinal.  It  is  a  curious  fact  that 
Mazarin,  who  was  not  ill-natured,  should  have 
inspired  more  antipathy  among  the  nobles  than 
Richelieu,  so  relentless  in  his  dealings  with  them. 
On  that  point  we  can  believe  Saint-Simon,  who 
never  betrayed  his  caste.  ' '  Cardinal  Richelieu, "  says 
he  in  his  Memoirs  ^  "  little  by  little  destroyed  that 
power  and  authority  of  the  great  which  balanced 
and  even  over-shadowed  that  of  the  king;  by 
degrees,  he  reduced  them  to  the  degree  of  honour, 
of  distinction,  consideration,  and  authority  alone 
due  to  them ;  they  were  no  longer  permitted  to  act 
or  to  speak  loudly  in  the  king's  presence,  and  he 
was  soon  in  a  position  to  fear  nothing  from  them. 
This  was  the  result  of  acts  wisely  and  uninter- 
ruptedly directed  toward  one  goal." 

In  the  same  page,  Saint-Simon  denounces 
Mazarin  to  the  execration  of  posterity  for  "the 
lies,  the  baseness,  the  treachery,  the  terrors  and 

'■  Volume  xi,  p.  244  (Hachette). 


46  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

the  spropositi  ^  of  his  government,  as  avaricious  as 
it  was  cowardly  and  tyrannical,  the  consequences 
of  which  were,  first  the  Fronde,  and  then  the  ruin 
and  complete  debasement  of  the  French  nobility, 
despoiled  of  all  posts,  distinctions,  and  dignities,  in 
favour  of  the  lower  orders,  so  that  the  greatest 
noble  is  powerless  and  depends  in  a  thousand  ways 
on  some  vile  burgher."  Richelieu  decapitated 
the  nobles;  Mazarin  slyly  degraded  them.  The 
first  has  been  forgiven ;  the  second  never  will  be. 

The  country,  like  the  tow^n,  was  divided.  Europe 
laughed,  with  the  exception  of  Spain,  who  had 
offered  the  Infanta  and  felt  the  humiliation  of  a 
refusal. 

Things  were  in  this  state,  and  the  cardinal,  hav- 
ing learnt  humility,  wrote  to  the  king,  ' '  I  feel  such 
profound  veneration  and  respect  for  your  person 
and  for  all  that  emanates  from  you,  that  I  could 
not  take  upon  myself  to  dispute  with  you.  On 
the  contrary,  I  am  willing  to  submit  to  your  wishes 
and  to  declare  that  you  are  right,  in  all  things." 

Suddenly  everything  was  changed  by  a  dram- 
atic turn  of  events,  singular,  yet  natural.  B6r^- 
nice,  as  portrayed  by  Racine  and  by  Comeille  also, 
gives  up  Titus,  at  the  fifth  act,  out  of  pure  heroism ; 
she  sacrifices  herself  to  the  nation.  Poetry  has  en- 
nobled history,  which  is  not  the  same  thing  as 
betraying  it.  At  Brouage,  Marie  Mancini  learned 
that  the  clauses  of  the  Spanish  marriage  had  been 
agreed  upon.     Not  knowing  that  her  uncle  was  on 

*  Foolish  talk,  things  said  out  of  season. 


MARIA   THERESA 
From  an  old  copper  engraving 


Marie  Mancini  47 

the  point  of  capitulating  and  of  yielding  to  the 
king 's  desires,  she  thought  herself  lost  at  the  very 
moment  when  victory  was  perhaps  within  her 
grasp.  Wounded  pride  prompted  her  to  break  of 
her  own  free  will ;  anger  helped  her  decision.  Un- 
stable as  she  was,  she  was  relieved  by  this  change, 
after  her  long  obstinacy,  so  contrary  to  her  nature. 
This  heroic  resolution  would  be  sure  to  secure  for 
her  praise  and  yet  more  solid  compensations.  She 
wrote  to  Mazarin  that  she  gave  up  the  king.  Once 
this  determination  taken,  the  all-consuming  pas- 
sion which  was  to  have  been  unique  in  the  annals  of 
love,  suddenly  ceased  to  consume  her.  It  would 
be  an  error  to  think  that  Marie  Mancini  did  not 
love  the  king.  Only,  as  has  been  said,  the  heart, 
with  her,  was  placed  in  the  brain. 

She  was  too  clever  not  to  understand  that  the 
last  act  of  the  drama  might  seem  to  turn  short  and 
would  spoil  the  play  in  the  eyes  of  the  world.  She 
took  pains  to  arrange  it  in  the  Apologie,  where 
she  represents  herself  as  refusing  with  indignation 
the  proposals  of  marriage  made  by  the  conn^table 
Colonna,  soon  after  the  great  sacrifice.  She  for- 
gets to  mention  that  she  made  use  of  the  messenger 
to  suggest  to  her  uncle  another  admirer,  whose 
image  flattered  her  unoccupied  imagination. 

The  astounding  news  flew,  lightning-like,  and 
excited  varied  comments.  Mazarin,  wild  with 
joy,  could  scarcely  believe  his  senses,  and  suddenly 
discovered  that  he  quite  adored  this  niece  whom, 
just  before,  he  had  dubbed  a  dangerous  maniac. 


48  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

His  heart  overflowed  with  love  and  admiration: 
compliments,  protestations,  and  delicate  attentions 
were  showered  upon  her.  He  went  so  far  as  to 
open  his  purse:  nothing  better  can  prove  how 
terrified  he  had  been.  ' '  I  have  ordered  Teron, ' '  he 
writes  to  Madame  de  Venel,  ' '  to  give  all  needf til 
money  so  that  she  (Marie)  should  have  every  sort 
of  pleasure.  Pray  give  orders  that  her  table  be 
lavishly  supplied."  He  promises  his  dear  Marie 
to  find  her  a  husband.  He  wishes  her  to  be  happy 
and  he  will  do  all  in  his  power  to  further  that  end. 
Meanwhile,  he  bids  her  amuse  herself,  hunt,  fish, 
eat  good  dinners  (the  cardinal  knew  how  to  appre- 
ciate dainty  living;  thanks  to  him,  France  was 
blessed  with  several  new  sauces),  read  Seneca. 
' '  And,  since  she  has  a  taste  for  books  on  morality, 
tell  her  from  me  that  she  should  read  treatises  of 
philosophy,  especially  the  works  of  Seneca,  wherein 
she  will  find  much  consolation  and  many  things 
which  will  confirm  her  in  her  new  resolution." 
Anne  of  Austria,  by  a  reflex  movement,  basked 
in  the  sunshine  of  her  minister's  joy.  Philemon 
and  Baucis  feel  youth  surge  anew  in  their  veins, 
and  exchange  tender  declarations.  "I  confess," 
writes  Mazarin  to  the  queen,  ' '  that  my  patience  is 
greatly  tried  at  being  kept  here  and  thus  deprived 
of  your  love."  (Saint- Jean-de-Luz,  September 
14th,  1659.)  More  touching  still  is  the  passage  on 
his  gout  which  prevents  him  from  joining  her :  "  As 
much  as  possible  I  keep  secret  the  hope  of  seeing 
you  here ;  if  my  gout  were  to  guess  such  a  thing,  it 


Marie  Mancini  49 

would  take  malicious  pleasure  and  pride  in  torment- 
ing me,  so  as  to  boast  of  such  a  victory  as,  till 
now,  no  fit  of  gout  ever  knew."  Trissotin  could 
not  have  said  this  in  more  gallant  terms,  and  the 
couplet  on  the  gout  is  a  fit  set-ofi  to  the  Sonnet  sur 
la  fievre  qui  tient  la  princesse  Uranie. 

Out  of  spite  at  having  been  so  unexpectedly 
abandoned,  the  king  became  at  once  enamoured 
of  the  Infanta.  Besides,  he  had  meditated  on  the 
threat  of  the  cardinal  to  leave  him  in  the  lurch,  and 
he  knew  that  such  a  position  would  be  singularly 
embarrassing.  He  was  weary  of  being  in  leading 
strings,  yet  he  did  not  feel  equal  to  walking  without 
them.  He  knew  nothing  of  public  affairs.  Peace 
had  not  yet  been  signed;  and  the  scandalous  con- 
tempt shown  the  Infanta  in  marrying  an  obscure 
girl  would  inevitably  have  opened  hostilities  once 
more.  He  had  heard  it  said  (and  it  was  true) 
that  '  *  his  revenues  were  absorbed  for  two  or  three 
years  in  advance,"  ^  Thanks  to  all  these  good 
reasons,  it  was  with  the  greatest  possible  alacrity 
that  he  married  the  Spanish  princess,  June  6th, 
t66o. 

VII 

The  hope  of  being  queen  had,  for  a  time,  given 
to  Marie  Mancini,  to  her  feelings  and  conversation, 
a  sort  of  inflation  that  might  have  passed  muster 
as  nobility.     But  as  this  sort  of  dignity  was  not 

*  Memoirs  of  Choisy. 


50  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

genuine,  it  disappeared  with  her  dream.  The 
romantic  heroine  vanished;  the  adventuress  alone 
remained.  The  cardinal  had  scarcely  authorised 
her  to  return  to  Paris  before  she  began  with 
Prince  Charles  of  Lorraine  a  second  romance,  more 
fiery  even  than  the  first.  An  Italian  abbe  served 
as  go-between.  Meetings  were  frequent  in  churches 
and  parks.  All  this  took  on  an  appearance  of 
most  displeasing  intrigue,  but  Marie  could  never 
keep  within  bounds.  Her  passion  drove  her  mad. 
She  must  have  her  Lorraine.  She  swore  a  hundred 
times  that  if  she  were  not  allowed  to  marry  him, 
she  would  enter  a  convent.*  Never  had  she 
made  such  a  threat  when  she  was  in  love  with  the 
king;  this  he  never  forgot  or  forgave. 

Prince  Charles  was  completely  fascinated.  His 
head,  as  had  been  the  case  with  the  king's,  whirled 
in  the  presence  of  this  southern  enchantress. 

The  court  returned  in  the  very  midst  of  this 
wild  romance,  bringing  back  the  new  queen,  Marie- 
Therese.  During,  the  journe}^  the  king  had  accom- 
plished the  only  act  of  sentiment  which  can  be 
attributed  to  him.  He  left  his  young  wife  at 
Saintes  so  as  to  go  ''in  a  post-chaise  to  visit 
Brouage  and  La  Rochelle,"^  sacred  spots,  which 
had  witnessed  the  passion  and  sufferings  of  the 
beloved  one.  This  would  have  been  poetical  and 
touching  if  Marie,  as  he  was  convinced,  had  been 
spoiling  her  eyes  by  over-weeping;  it  was  only 

*  Memoirs  of  the  Marquis  de  Beauveau. 
'  Memoirs  of  Monsieur  de  Montpensier. 


PRINCE  CHARLES   OF   LORRAINE 
From   an  old  copper  print 


Marie  Mancini  51 

ridiculous  in  case  she  had  dried  them.  When  he 
reached  Fontainebleau,  the  king  learned  the  truth. 
Another  had  taken  his  place.  He  —  forgotten 
for  another!  Few  men  can  admit  such  a  thing. 
Louis  XIV  never  could,  not  so  much  from  vanity 
as  from  faith  in  the  monarchy.  Alone  on  the 
throne,  alone  in  the  heart ;  both  these  things  seemed 
to  him  the  attributes  of  divine  right.  Marie 
Mancini  grown  faithless  was  lost,  and  forever. 
He  could  not  understand  that  the  king  of  France 
should  be  exposed  to  the  misadventures  of  common 
lovers,  and  he  was  right;  he  knew  his  business  as 
monarch. 

Marie  Mancini,  in  her  Apologie,  carefully  avoids 
any  mention  of  her  passion  for  the  Prince  of 
Lorraine.  Her  love  for  Louis  XIV  gave  her  in 
the  eyes  of  the  world  and  of  posterity  such  lustre, 
that,  in  order  to  keep  it  undimmed,  a  little  lying 
seemed  but  a  venial  fault.  As  long  as  she  pos- 
sibly could,  she  kept  her  attitude  of  forsaken 
Ariadne ;  the  Memoirs  of  her  sister  Hortense  *  tell 
us  of  her  despair  when  she  saw  the  king  as  a 
married  man.  Who  knows  if,  spite  coming  to  the 
rescue,  she  was  not  sincerely  jealous  of  the  king, 
even  while  she  adored  her  prince  ?  It  would  have 
been  very  feminine.  However  that  may  be,  this 
is  her  own  account  of  her  first  meeting  with  the 
king  after  his  return: 

''The  court  reached  Fontainebleau  and  the 
cardinal  ordered  us  to  pay  our  respects  to  the  new 

^  Memoirs  of  the  Duchess  of  Mazarin. 


52  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

queen.  I  foresaw  all  that  this  would  cost  me  and 
it  was  not  without  anguish  that  I  accepted  it; 
the  presence  of  the  king  was  sure  to  open  a  wound, 
scarcely  healed,  and  to  which  it  would  have  been 
wiser  to  apply  the  remedy  of  absence.  However, 
as  I  had  not  imagined  that  the  king  could  receive 
me  with  the  cold  indifference  he  displayed,  I  own 
that  I  was  so  overwhelmed  with  sorrow  that  no 
event  of  my  life  was  as  cruel  as  this  change  in  his 
manner.  I  begged  to  be  allowed  to  return  to 
Paris." 

The  king  carried  his  ' '  cruelty ' '  to  the  extent  of 
praising  the  young  queen  to  her.  "This  was  too 
much  for  a  creature  so  full  of  passion  and  violence. 
She  burst  into  a  torrent  of  reproaches.  "...  "  My 
impatient  wish  for  an  explanation  .  .  .  caused 
me  two  or  three  times  to  speak  in  private  to  his 
Majesty,  but  he  received  my  complaints  so  coldly 
that,  from  that  moment,  I  vowed  never  more  to 
bewail  my  fate,  and  to  crush  my  heart  rather  than 
to  allow  it  to  grieve,  after  so  much  indifference." 

All  went  wrong  with  her.  Once  the  king  married, 
her  uncle  forgot  his  promises  and  she  ceased  to  be 
his  darling  niece  whom  he  flattered  and  praised. 
Mazarin  remembered  her  only  to  order  her 
governess  in  future  to  take  better  care  of  her 
charge,  and  he  pitilessly  refused  her  hand  to  the 
Prince  of  Lorraine.  This  young  man  took  his 
heart  elsewhere,  so  that  poor  Marie  was  in  the 
rather  ridiculous  position  of  being  at  the  same 
time   jealous   of  her   two   faithless   swains.     She 


Marie  Mancini  S3 

carried  off  the  situation  with  spirit,  but  found  it 
hard  to  bear.  For  the  time  being,  all  who  depended 
on  Mazarin  complained  of  him.  The  glory  of  the 
Pyrenees  treaty  and  the  security  which  came  of  it 
quite  turned  his  head.  Two  months  before 
Charles  II  became  king  of  England,  he  had  asked 
for  the  hand  of  Hortense,  which  the  cardinal  had 
refused ;  now,  in  vain,  he  sought  to  mend  matters. 
Gout  and  gravel,  from  which  he  suffered  greatly, 
soured  his  temper  and  made  him  more  avaricious 
than  ever ;  he  deprived  the  young  queen  of  nearly 
all  her  New-Year  gifts,  granting  her  only  ten  thou- 
sand livres  out  of  twelve  thousand  crowns,  and 
spent  his  time  weighing  his  gold  pieces  so  as  to 
give  her  all  that  were  under -weight.  He  could 
no  longer  control  his  brutal  temper  and  treated 
Anne  of  Austria  "as  if  she  had  been  a  servant." 
Death  found  him  gloating  over  his  gold  and 
scolding.  He  saw  his  end  approach,  however, 
with  a  courage  no  one  expected  of  him.  He 
divided  his  fortune  and  saw  to  the  future  of  his 
two  nieces,  Hortense  and  Marie.  The  former 
married  the  Duke  of  La  Meilleraye,  who  took  the 
name  of  Mazarin.  Marie  was  given  to  the  Conne- 
table  Colonna.  She,  who  still  adored  her  faithless 
Prince  of  Lorraine,  felt  "a  despair  so  violent  that 
she  could  not  refrain  from  reproaching  the  king 
for  his  weakness,  and  the  cardinal  for  the  outrage 
he  committed  in  thus  sacrificing  her  affections  and 
her  person."  ^  If  the  king,  as  has  been  said,  felt 
at  that  moment  a  slight  return  of  his  old  passion, 

^  Memoirs  of  Beauveau. 


54  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

he  was  forever  cured  by  reproaches,  so  mortifying 
to  his  pride.  It  was  too  much  to  claim  the  Lor- 
raine of  him.  He  showed  himself  freezingly  cold 
toward  the  faithless  one. 

Mazarin  died  on  the  9  th  of  March,  1661.  His 
family,  with  touching  unanimity,  exclaimed: 
''Pure  e  crepatol"  (At  last  he  has  given  up  the 
ghost!)  Such  was  the  emotion  shown  at  the  death 
of  a  man  who  had  drawn  his  relatives  out  of 
nothingness  to  set  them  on  a  pinnacle.  The 
people  gave  the  same  deep  sigh  of  relief  as  the 
family,  but  with  greater  cause. 

Soon  after  the  cardinal's  death,  the  king,  by 
proxy,  concluded  the  marriage  of  Mademoiselle 
Mancini  with  the  connetable  Colonna,  who  had 
remained  in  Italy;  the  bride  was  sent  to  her 
husband.  "She  had  the  sorrow,"  says  Madame  de 
La  Fayette,  "to  see  herself  exiled  from  France 
by  the  king.  .  .  .  She  bore  herself  with  dignity 
and  haughtiness;  but  at  her  first  halt,  after  her 
departure  from  Paris,  she  was  so  crushed  by  her 
despair,  so  overwrought  by  the  violence  she  had 
exerted  over  herself  to  hide  her  feelings,  that  she 
nearly  died."  Only  she  did  not  die,  and  reached 
Milan  where  the  connetable,  a  handsome  man  and 
an  honest  one,  met  her.  He,  in  his  turn,  drank  of 
the  philter  this  sorceress  presented  to  him  and,  like 
the  others,  lost  his  wits.  She  showed  him  nothing 
but  aversion,  ill -temper,  and  caprices.  He  made 
of  her  a  sort  of  fairy  queen  and  surrounded  her 
with  luxury  and  a  hundred  festivities  given  in  her 


Marie  Mancini  SS 

honour ;  he  showed  himself  '  'gallant  and  was  always 
superbly  dressed."  *  He  showered  on  her  "all  the 
attentions  and  kindnesses  that  it  was  possible  to 
imagine ; "  ^  was  patience  itself  with  her  rebuffs 
and  caprices.  One  fine  day  he  replaced  the 
Prince  of  Lorraine  in  the  heart  of  his  wife,  with  the 
rapidity  and  violence  she  always  showed  in  like 
matters. 

' '  They  were  happy  and  had  a  great  many  chil- 
dren." Thus  end  all  pretty  fairytales;  but  this 
is  a  real  story,  and  it  ends  very  differently. 

The  first  years,  indeed,  recalled  the  fairy  tale. 
Children  came,  a  great  many  children,  and  the 
conndtable  only  prayed  that  his  happiness  might 
continue.  His  weakness  toward  his  wife  was 
boundless;  her  wishes  were  his  law.  When  her 
first  child  was  bom,  Madame  Colonna  was  visited 
by  the  Sacred  College.  She  judged  it  appropriate 
to  receive  the  cardinals  in  a  bed  shaped  like  a  shell 
in  which  she  represented  Venus.  "It  was,"  says 
she,  "  a  sort  of  shell  that  seemed  to  float  on  the  sea ; 
it  was  so  well  represented,  with  the  lower  part  of 
the  bedstead  forming  waves,  that  it  seemed  real. 
It  was  supported  by  four  sea  horses  mounted  by 
sirens,  all  so  beautifully  carved  and  gilded  that  all 
thought  they  were  made  of  gold.  Ten  or  twelve 
cupids  amorously  held  the  curtains,  which  were  of 
gold  brocade,  hanging  loosely  so  as  to  show  only 
what  deserved  to  be  seen;  they  were  more  for 
ornament  than  use." 

»  Apologie.  '  Ibid. 


S6  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

As  soon  as  she  had  left  her  theatrical  couch, 
Venus  deigned  to  take  part  in  merely  human 
pleasures.  Games,  balls,  banquets,  tournaments, 
journeys  to  Venice  and  Milan,  cavalcades  and 
boating,  concerts  and  plays,  succeeded  each  other 
endlessly,  so  much  so  that  it  is  a  marvel  that  one 
could  take  so  much  pleasure  without  dying  of 
ennui.  As  her  fifth  child  nearly  cost  her  her  life, 
Marie  signified  to  her  husband  that  she  refused 
to  bring  any  more  little  Colonnas  into  the  world. 
He  loved  her  too  much  to  rebel;  after  which, 
as  was  to  be  expected,  he  gave  a  bad  example 
of  conjugal  infidelity.  His  wife  was  imprudent 
enough  to  exhibit  her  jealousy;  more  imprudent 
still  in  avenging  herself.  Once  on  that  road,  she 
went  far.  Her  powers  of  seduction  now  gave 
themselves  all  license.  No  man  could  resist  her, 
her  conquests  were  innumerable. 

First  came  a  cardinal,  Flavio  Chigi,  ill-favoured, 
dark-skinned,  with  a  round  face  and  pop-eyes 
that  always  seemed  ready  to  fall  out  of  their 
sockets;  but  he  was  nephew  to  a  pope,  gay  and 
dissolute.  Madame  Colonna  caused  him  to  play 
all  sorts  of  antics.  One  day  when  he  was  expected 
to  preside  over  some  church  assembly  she  carried 
him  off  in  her  coach  "only  half  dressed,"  took 
him  into  the  country  and  kept  him  till  evening. 
Another  time  she  found  him  in  bed,  ran  away  with 
his  clothes,  dressed  herself  as  a  cardinal,  and  vowed 
she  would  receive  in  his  stead.  Once,  they  spent  a 
fortnight  hunting  and  camping  in  the  woods. 


Marie  Mancini  57 

Then  came  the  infamous  Chevaher  de  Lorraine, 
exiled  in  spite  of  the  tears  of  monsietir,  brother  to 
Louis  XIV.  Even  in  Rome,  where  Cardinal  Chigi 
could,  without  exciting  any  indignation,  preside 
over  the  congregations,  the  chevalier  was  black- 
balled. It  was  whispered  that  Madame  la  conne- 
table,  in  monsieur's  name,  had  given  him  "  a  hunt- 
ing suit  worth  a  thousand  pistoles,  covered  with  a 
quantity  of  ribbons,  the  most  beautiful  and 
expensive  that  could  be  found  in  Paris."  ^  The 
"little  fish-monger"  of  Rome  could  not  resist  the 
temptation  of  showing  herself  in  her  native  town 
in  company  with  so  gorgeous  a  cavalier;  the 
Chevalier  de  Lorraine  was  always  at  her  side. 
The  connetable  became  very  angry.  Fate  had 
played  him  the  trick  of  giving  him  a  jealous  nature 
and  marrying  him  to  a  Mazarin.  If  he  had  chosen 
to  see  nothing  when  Cardinal  Chigi  was  in  attend- 
ance, he  opened  his  eyes  when  the  chevalier  took 
his  place  and  he  stormed  violently.  ''  But,"  con- 
tinues the  Apologie,  "I  knew  how  to  answer." 
The  connetable  sent  a  monk  to  reprove  the  guilty 
one.  She  took  the  monk  by  the  shoulders  and 
pushed  him  out  of  the  room.  Cardinal  Chigi, 
jealous  on  his  own  account,  preached  to  her. 
Thereupon  they  quarrelled.  She  became  the  talk 
of  Rome,  and  the  outraged,  but  still  enamoured 
husband  could  but  scold  and  hire  numerous  spies. 

Nature  is  very  clever,  as  we  know,  in  disguising 
the  defects  of  a  face  with  the  charm  of  youth.    It  is 

*  Apologie. 


58  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

no  less  clever  in  hiding  defects  of  character,  thanks 
to  the  glamotir  and  fire  of  the  twentieth  year:  so 
young  a  soul  is  nearly  always  lovable.  Moral 
taints  are  brought  to  light  with  the  revolving 
years,  and  inattentive  observers  wonder  at  the 
change.  That  change  is  only  apparent;  the  ugly 
taint  is  not  a  new  one.  At  the  court  of  France, 
during  her  romance  with  Louis  XIV,  Marie  Man- 
cini  did  not  seem  an  adventuress ;  her  youth,  with 
its  brilliant  and  joyous  seduction,  deceived  and 
entranced  all  who  saw  her.  Less  than  ten  years 
later,  the  real  nature  was  revealed.  The  stories 
we  still  have  to  relate  of  her  might  be  those  of  a 
circus  rider.  We  shall  speak  of  them  as  rapidly  as 
possible. 

VIII 

A  FRAGMENT  ^  Written  by  the  conndtable's  wife 
will  show  into  what  a  singular  world  she  had 
fallen.  ' '  Every  day,  the  chevalier  came  to  see  me, 
and  when  the  weather  was  favourable  we  went  out 
together,  choosing  especially  the  banks  of  the 
Tiber,  near  the  Porta  del  Popolo.  I  had  even 
caused  a  bath  house  to  be  built  there,  so  that  I 
might    plunge    in    the    river. ^   ...     It    was    not 

*  Les  M^moires  de  M.L.P.M.M.  (Madame  la  princesse  Marie 
Mancini,  published  at  Cologne,  1676.)  It  is  a  confidential  state- 
ment made  to  an  intimate  friend  by  Madame  Colonna,  more  lively, 
less  truthful,  than  the  Apologie,  and  written  in  view  of  the  public. 

^  In  the  Apologie,  she  describes  the  little  house,  but  does  not 
mention  the  purpose  for  which  it  was  built.  This  detail  indicates 
the  difference  between  the  two  books.  The  Apologie  was  written 
to  soften  the  effect  produced  by  the  Memoirs. 


Marie  Mancini  59 

through  love,  as  pretend  my  enemies,  but  out  of 
mere  gallantry  that  the  chevalier,  seeing  me  in  the 
water  up  to  my  throat,  begged  to  have  my  portrait 
painted  in  that  state,  as  he  had  never  seen  so 
shapely  a  form  nor  so  beautiful  a  face ;  he  vowed 
that  Zenocrates  would  have  fallen  in  love  with  my 
perfections."  The  husband,  however,  in  his  jeal- 
ousy, did  not  believe  in  the  perfect  propriety  of  all 
this  bathing;  mere  calumny,  his  honourable  wife 
informs  us :  "  My  servants  can  testify  that  I  never 
left  the  cabin  to  step  into  the  water  without  having 
donned  a  chemise  of  gauze  which  fell  to  my  feet." 
The  insupportable  husband  was  not  content  with 
this  transparent  garment ;  he  complained  of  many 
other  things  likewise,  and  made  himself  so  ex- 
tremely disagreeable  that  she  concluded  that  the 
only  thing  to  do  was  to  run  away  from  him. 

Her  sister  Hor tense  had  already  left  her  lord. 
It  is  true  that  the  Duke  of  Mazarin  was  a  sort  of 
maniac  with  whom  life  was  impossible.  The 
duchess  had  taken  refuge  in  Rome,  and  as  she  was 
a  woman  of  experience,  having  travelled  many 
leagues  in  male  attire,  Madame  Colonna  begged 
her  protection  in  her  flight  back  to  France.  They 
left  Rome,  May  29,  1672,  with  men's  clothes  under 
their  skirts,  as  though  they  had  gone  out  for  an 
airing. 

Their  coach  took  them  to  Civita  Vecchia,  where 
a  boat  had  been  ordered  to  await  them.  They 
took  off  their  feminine  garments,  sent  back  their 
coach,  and  walked  up  and  down  in  the  broiling 


6o  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

sun.  The  boat  was  nowhere  to  be  seen,  and  they 
took  refuge  in  a  grove  where  they  well-nigh  died 
of  fright,  fatigue,  and  hunger.  They  had  been 
twenty-four  hours  without  food,  and  every 
moment  fancied  they  heard  the  connetable's  sol- 
diers pursuing  them.  Suddenly  they  perceived 
the  gallop  of  a  horse  and  thought  the  end  had 
come.  Hortense  bravely  cocked  her  pistols,  de- 
termined to  ' '  kill  the  first  man  who  might  present 
himself;"  but  her  sister  made  a  rather  pitiable 
heroine.  ' '  If  my  veins  had  been  opened,"  she  says, 
"not  a  drop  of  blood  would  have  trickled  from 
them.  My  hair  stood  on  end,  and  I  fell,  half 
fainting,  into  the  arms  of  my  sister  who,  more 
accustomed  to  misfortune,  was  braver  than  I."^ 
Hortense,  indeed,  had  known  many  a  tight  place. 
She  had  endured  a  siege  in  a  convent,  against  her 
husband  and  sixty  horsemen  who  had  been  forced 
to  beat  an  ignominious  retreat.  She  was  doubt- 
less ashamed  of  a  sister  who,  in  spite  of  her  pre- 
tensions, was  nothing  but  a  poor  little  woman. 

A  servant  was  sent  in  search  of  the  missing 
boat,  found  another,  and  they  sailed  away.  This 
little  vessel  was  manned  by  veritable  pirates,  and 
the  nine  days  of  navigation  were  full  of  emotions. 
Once  out  at  sea,  the  ladies  had  to  give  up  their 
gold,  under  penalty  of  being  thrown  overboard  or 
left  on  a  desert  island.  The  same  evening  a  Turk- 
ish privateer  was  espied,  and  night  alone  saved 

»  Les  M6moires  de  M.L.P.M.M.  The  story  is  told  after  the 
same  fashion  in  the  Memoirs  and  in  the  Apologie. 


HORTENSE   MANCINI 
From  an  old  copper  print 


Marie  Mancini  6i 

them  from  capture.  The  fugitives,  it  may  be, 
regretted  so  interesting  an  adventure  as  that  of 
entering  a  Turkish  harem.  Their  husbands  would 
have  bought  them  back,  and  they  would  have 
had  a  few  more  reminiscences  wherewith  to  enliven 
their  old  age.  The  next  day  there  was  a  tempest. 
On  reaching  Marseilles,  they  were  not  allowed  to 
enter  the  port,  as  Civita  Vecchia  was  plague  in- 
fested. They  bought  false  passports  and  landed. 
They  had  scarcely  had  an  hour's  sleep  in  an  inn 
when  Captain  Manechini,  a  terrible  hravo  em- 
ployed by  the  conne table,  appeared  before  them. 
The  Duke  of  Mazarin,  on  his  side,  had  sent  the  no 
less  terrible  Captain  Polastron  to  capture  his  wife. 
The  two  women  escaped,  stopping  here  or  there 
whenever  they  thought  themselves  in  safety,  to 
snatch  what  pleasure  was  within  their  grasp. 
They  were  obliged  to  beg  Madame  de  Grignan  for 
help,  and  she  sent  them  a  little  linen.  Dodging 
their  pursuers,  Hortense  barely  escaped  from  Cap- 
tain Polastron  by  crossing  the  frontier.  Marie 
pushed  on  to  Paris.  She  was  bent  on  seeing  the 
king,  on  throwing  herself  at  his  feet,  on  —  who 
knows  ?  —  adding  a  second  volume  to  her  royal 
romance. 

The  news  that  Marie  Mancini  had  appeared  in 
Provence,  in  men's  clothes,  without  so  much  as  a 
shift,  produced  a  great  stir  at  the  court  of  France. 
When  she  was  reported  on  her  way  to  Paris,  no 
one  doubted  her  object,  and  the  curiosity  of  the 
public  was  vastly  excited.     The  king's  rule  was 


62  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

never  to  be  ungrateful  toward  a  woman  who  had 
loved  him,  and  his  first  impulse  was  to  take 
Madame  Colonna  under  his  protection.  On  the 
other  hand,  he  greatly  respected  the  proprieties. 
He  was  even  disposed  to  admire  austerity,  for  it 
gave  greater  zest  to  his  victories.  Marie  Mancini 
had  not  covered  him  with  glory.  Louis  XIV  was 
the  last  man  in  France  to  admire  romantic  adven- 
tures, and  hers  were  particularly  romantic.  Then 
he  felt  very  bitterly  the  fact  that  he  had  had  suc- 
cessors; at  court,  many  remembered  his  red  and 
swollen  eyes  at  the  time  when  Mazarin  refused  to 
let  him  marry  his  niece.  All  this  caused  him  to 
send  a  very  cold  answer  to  a  letter  in  which 
Madame  Colonna  begged  his  permission  to  dwell 
in  Paris.  He  advised  her  to  shut  herself  up  in  a 
convent  "in  order  to  put  an  end  to  the  scandal 
her  departure  from  Rome  had  caused."  ^ 

Marie  argued  from  this  letter  that  she  must 
lose  no  time,  that  it  was  urgent  for  her  to  see  the 
king,  and  she  set  out  forthwith.  The  postmaster 
refused  to  let  her  have  horses.  A  nobleman 
sent  by  Louis  XIV  was  in  hot  pursuit.  Somehow 
she  procured  horses  and  a  vehicle,  took  to  cross- 
roads, to  rough  fields  also,  upsetting,  hiding, 
dodging,  finally  reaching  Fontainebleau,  where 
her  pursuer  caught  up  with  her.  It  was  Monsietir 
de  La  Gibertiere ;  if  he  happened  to  possess  any 
sense  of  humour,  he  must  greatly  have  enjoyed 
the  interview. 

*  Apologie. 


Marie  Mancini  6^ 

He  did  his  best  to  persuade  her  to  return  to 
her  husband,  adding  that  the  king  regretted  that 
he  had  granted  her  his  protection;  the  only  other 
alternative  was  a  prolonged  sojourn  in  a  Grenoble 
convent. 

"This,"  she  says,  "was  my  answer:  that  I  had 
not  left  my  home  with  the  intention  of  returning 
to  it  so  soon;  that  mere  caprice  had  not  guided 
me,  but  good  and  solid  reasons,  which  I  could 
only  divulge  to  the  king  in  person;  that  I  was 
certain  of  his  fairness  and  justice  as  soon  as  he 
had  heard  me  (I  asked  for  nothing  more),  for  he 
would  then  acknowledge  that  he  had  been  misled 
in  his  appreciation  of  my  conduct;  .  .  .  that,  as 
to  Grenoble,  I  was  too  weary  to  undertake  such 
a  journey;  .  .  .  that  I  would  await  his  Majesty's 
answer,  according  to  which  I  should  then  decide 
upon  my  conduct."  Whereupon,  she  snatched 
up  her  guitar  and  began  to  play,  thereby  greatly 
disturbing     Louis     XIV's     envoy.  Evidently, 

Monsieur  de  La  Gibertiere  proceeded  to  expostu- 
late, for  she  had  time  to  play  him  "several  tunes" 
before,  in  sheer  discouragement,  he  took  his  leave. 

What  an  adorable  scene !  Madame  Colonna,  in 
an  upper  chamber  of  a  poor  inn  at  Fontainebleau, 
dressed  in  the  cast-off  garments  of  Madame  de 
Grignan,  with  a  guitar  by  way  of  baggage!  A 
cicada  under  wintry  breezes. 

The  king  sent  her  another  messenger,  the  Duke 
of  Crequi,  who,  in  spite  of  himself,  was  touched  at 
finding  so  much  fallen  grandeur  in  so  woeful  a 


64  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

plight.  He  renewed  the  king's  orders:  she  was 
not  to  see  him;  she  was  not  to  go  to  Paris.  She 
felt  that  she  must  gain  time  and  asked  to  be 
placed  in  a  convent  at  Melun.  This  was  granted; 
but  she  could  not  take  it  upon  herself  not  to  bewail 
her  fate,  not  to  insist  on  seeing  the  king  who 
showed  her  "so  little  courtesy."  Louis  XIV  at 
last,  fearing  some  scandal,  or  that  she  might 
burst  into  his  presence,  in  spite  of  his  body-guard, 
ordered  Colbert  to  put  her  in  some  convent  at 
least  sixty  miles  away.  She  could  not  yet  believe 
that  all  was  over  between  them.  She  wrote  to 
Colbert :  "  I  never  thought  to  see  what  I  see ;  I  can 
say  no  more,  for  I  have  less  control  over  myself 
than  you.  Let  it  end.  All  I  ask  is  to  see  the 
king  once  more  before  leaving  for  the  last  time, 
as  I  shall  never  return  to  Paris.  Obtain  for  me 
this  favour,  Monseigneur,  after  which  I  will  go 
even  further  than  he  wishes.  ..."  (Septem- 
ber 25,  1672.)  Colbert  did  not  answer.  This  was 
plain  enough.  Then  she  uttered  this  cry  of 
despair:  "It  is  not  possible  that  the  king  .  .  . 
should,  with  me,  begin  to  show  himself  pitiless  "* 
This  would  be  touching,  could  we  forget  the 
goggle-eyed  cardinal  and  the  Chevalier  de  Lor- 
raine. Louis  XIV,  very  well  informed  as  to  her 
vagaries,  remained  relentless  and  sent,  once  more, 
Monsieur  de  La  Giberti^re  who  escorted  her  to  a 
convent  at  Reims.  In  her"  Memoirs,  she  shows 
the  extent  of  her  disappointment :  "  I  was  deceived 

*  Letter  to  Colbert,  October  i,  1672. 


Marie  Mancini  6^ 

in  all  my  hopes ;  the  king,  on  whom  I  had  depended, 
treated  me  with  great  coldness,  why,  I  cannot 
imagine."  It  is  possible  that  she  never  understood 
the  reason  of  this  coldness.  The  absence  of 
moral  sense  blunts  the  brightest  wits. 


IX 

We  have  reached  the  last  stages  of  degradation. 
The  life  of  Marie  now  loses  every  vestige  of  dignity 
and  self-respect.  Her  troubled  brain,  a  perpetual 
disquiet,  keeps  her  from  resting  an3nvhere.  She 
spends  her  time  running  away  from  the  different 
convents  where  the  king  or  her  husband  imprisons 
her.  She  is  to  be  met  with  on  the  high-roads  of  all 
Europe,  in  France,  in  Italy,  in  Germany,  in  Holland, 
in  Spain.  The  letters  of  that  period  make  fre- 
quent allusions  to  her.  Madame  de  S^vigne  writes 
to  her  daughter,  November  24th,  1673,  "Madame 
Colonna  was  discovered  on  the  Rhine,  in  a  boat-full 
of  peasant  women ;  she  was  going  I  know  not  where 
in  Germany."  January  27th,  1680,  Madame  de  Vil- 
lars,  wife  of  the  French  ambassador  to  Madrid, 
says  that  she  and  her  husband  saw  a  veiled  woman 
who  made  signs  to  them  that  she  wished  to  speak 
to  them  alone.  "Monsieur  de  Villars  exclaimed: 
'It  is  Madame  Colonna!'  On  which,  I  addressed 
some  compliments  to  our  visitor.  But  as  that  was 
not  what  she  wanted,  she  went  straight  to  her  ob- 
ject."    The  "object"  was  that  she  had  once  more 


66  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

run  away  and  claimed  the  protection  of  France 
against  her  spouse. 

Nothing  could  persuade  her  that,  if  he  saw  her, 
Louis  XIV  would  not  at  once  fall  at  her  feet, 
repentant  and  amorous.  Her  one  goal,  there- 
fore, was  France.  At  last,  the  king,  weary,  sent 
orders  that  she  was  never  to  be  allowed  to  cross 
the  frontiers. 

Half  the  convents  of  Europe  looked  upon  her 
with  terror,  for  they  were  never  sure  of  being  free 
from  her.  Many  had  endured  the  infliction  of 
her  presence.  We  are  accustomed  to  pity  the 
wives  and  daughters  whom  paternal  or  conjugal 
tyranny  condemned  to  the  cloister,  and  certainly 
they  were  often  fit  objects  of  compassion.  But 
I  think  it  but  fair  to  pity  likewise  the  nuns  ordered 
to  receive  and  keep  them.  Their  unwilling  guests 
avenged  themselves  on  the  community.  One 
should  read  in  the  Memoirs  of  the  Duchess  of 
Mazarin  how  she  and  an  amiable  marchioness, 
shut  up  by  a  jealous  husband,  put  everything 
topsy-turvy  in  a  monastery.  They  organised  a 
chase  in  the  nuns'  dormitory,  running  full -tilt, 
followed  by  a  pack  of  hounds,  crying:  "Tuyant! 
tuyant ! ' '  They  put  ink  in  the  holy  water  founts 
and  water  in  the  beds.  Hortense  pretends  that 
all  this  is  "invented  or  exaggerated,"  but  she 
adds,  "We  were  watched  and  guarded;  for  the 
purpose,  the  oldest  nuns  were  chosen  as  less 
likely  to  be  corrupted;  but,  as  we  walked  about 
all  day  long,  they  were  soon  worn  out,  until  one 


Marie  Mancini  67 

or  two,  having  tried  to  run  after  us,  twisted  their 
ankles." 

Life  was  not  easy  in  the  convents  that  had  the 
honour  of  harbouring  the  conn^table's  fugitive 
wife.  Sometimes  she  would  make  a  hole  in  the 
wall  and  creep  through ;  or  she  would  bewitch  the 
door-keepers  and,  at  night,  go  off  carousing, 
which  did  not  greatly  add  to  the  good  renown  of 
the  establishment.  ' '  Sometimes, ' '  relates  Madame 
d'Aulnoy,  speaking  of  a  sojourn  in  Madrid,  "she 
escaped  in  the  evening  with  one  of  her  women, 
and  walked  on  the  Prado,  a  white  mantle  on  the 
head,  enjoying  many  an  amusing  adventure.  The 
women  who  frequent  the  Prado  are  not  always 
reputable,  but  the  most  aristocratic  of  our  ladies 
often  mingle  with  them,  when  they  think  they 
will  not  be  recognised."^ 

Marie  played  such  mad  pranks  that  it  required 
strict  orders  from  the  nuncio,  with  threats  of 
excommunication,  to  induce  the  convents  to 
receive  her.  In  one  monastery  of  Madrid,  the 
nuns,  in  despair,  resolved  to  go  in  procession  to 
the  palace,  so  as  to  entreat  the  king  to  free  them 
from  Madame  Colonna.  His  Majesty  rejoiced  at 
the  thought  of  receiving  them  and  of  hearing  them 
sing,  "Libera  nos,  Domine,  de  la  Conde stabile.'' 
They  thought  better  of  it  and  did  not  give  him 
that  unholy  joy. 

The  nuns  were  greatly  disturbed  by  the  visitors 
received  by  Madame  Colonna.     Many  fine  gentle- 

*  M^moires  de  la  cour  d'Espagne. 


68  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

men  called  upon  her,  and  their  gallantry  was 
scarcely  in  keeping  with  the  sanctity  of  the  place. 
One  of  the  most  frequent  of  these  visitors  for 
Madame  Colonna  was  her  husband,  that  strange 
spouse,  each  year  more  enamoured,  more  faithless, 
and  more  jealous.  "He  went  every  day  to  visit 
her,"  says  Madame  d'Aulnoy:  "I  have  seen  him 
pay  court  to  her,  like  a  lover  to  his  mistress." 
The  passion  with  which  she  had  inspired  him  was 
strong  enough  to  make  him  forgive  everything; 
all  he  asked  was  to  take  her  back  again. 

As  everything  with  Marie  Mancini  was  doomed 
to  be  strange,  she  grew  beautiful  when  she  was 
about  forty.  The  ugly  little  gipsy,  with  her  long, 
thin  arms,  was  no  longer  either  thin  or  dark- 
skinned.  Her  figure  was  fine,  her  bright  eyes  had 
grown  soft  and  touching,  her  hair  and  teeth  re- 
mained perfect.  Her  very  lack  of  repose  had  its 
charm.  The  connetable,  on  his  side,  was  still  as 
handsome  "  as  a  picture ' '  ^  and  he  was  madly  in 
love;  but  the  astrologers  kept  these  two  apart. 
Marie  had  once  more  had  her  horoscope  drawn, 
and  in  it  was  said  "that  if  she  had  another  child 
she  would  die."  Therefore,  she  would  have  no 
husband.  Yet  she  had  a  lover,  the  ugliest  man 
in  Madrid. 

One  fine  day,  like  a  madcap  that  she  was,  she 
ran  to  her  husband's  house.  She  had  broken 
loose  once  more  from  her  convent,  and  thought 
fit  to  try  another  sort  of    life.     The  connetable 

>  Letters  of  Madame  de  Villars. 


N\  PRINCIPE  ROMAN  O 


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J^ORENZ'ONOFRIO  COLON 

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THE  CONNETABLE  COLONNA 
After  the  portrait  by  Giacomo  Bichi 


Marie  Mancini  69 

received  her  very  well,  but  shut  the  cage's  door  on 
the  wild  bird.  She  made  a  fine  uproar,  vowing  that 
her  husband  wanted  to  take  revenge  "after  the 
Italian  fashion,"  that  is,  by  poisoning  her.  The 
king,  the  queen,  the  ministers,  the  grand  inquisitor, 
took  the  affair  to  heart;  she  stirred  up  the  whole 
country.  Some  were  for  her,  others  against.'  One 
night  she  was  carried  off,  by  her  lord's  orders, 
with  but  small  ceremony;  the  ravishers  dragged 
her,  half  naked,  by  the  hair  and  threw  her  into  a 
dungeon  where  she  was  only  too  happy  to  accept 
a  solution  which  completed  the  masquerade  of  her 
life.  The  conn^table  pledged  himself  to  become 
a  Knight  of  Malta  if  she  consented  to  take 
the  veil.  She  was  all  the  more  willing,  as  she  had 
had  some  experience  in  breaking  through  convent 
walls.  Madrid,  with  great  edification,  beheld  her 
in  a  monastic  habit.  "Madame  Colonna  arrived 
on  Saturday,  early,"  writes  Madame  de  Villars. 
"She  entered  the  convent;  the  nuns  received  her 
at  the  door  with  tapers  and  all  the  ceremonies  in 
use  on  such  occasions.  Thence,  she  was  led  into 
the  choir  where  she  took  the  habit  (of  a  novice) 
with  great  modesty.  .  .  .  The  costume  is  pretty 
and  becoming,  the  convent  agreeable."  * 

Poor  convent!  if  it  had  received  the  devil  in 
person  as  penitent  it  would  not  have  been  in  a 
worse  plight.  "Under  her  woollen  garment,  she 
wore  skirts  of  gold  and  silver  brocade ;  as  soon  as 
she  was  free  of  the  nuns,  she  threw  off  her  veil 

'  February  i,  1681. 


70  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

and  dressed  her  hair  after  the  fashion  of  Spain, 
with  many  coloured  ribbons.  When  a  bell  an- 
nounced some  function  at  which  she  was  bound 
to  assist  .  .  .  she  threw  on  her  habit  and  her 
veil  so  as  to  hide  the  ribbons  and  her  thick  hair; 
it  was  a  perpetual  comedy."  ^  Disguised  as  a  nun 
twenty  times  a  day  and  as  often  throwing  off 
that  disguise,  it  was  impossible  that  her  voca- 
tion should  be  taken  seriously.  The  husband, 
discouraged,  and  without  the  slightest  desire  to 
become  a  Knight  of  Malta,  finally  abandoned  his 
wife.  He  went  off  to  Rome;  but  he  was  guilty 
of  leaving  her  penniless,  in  an  attic,  without  a 
fire,  lacking  every  decent  comfort.  From  that 
moment,  Marie  disappears  in  darkness.  Now 
and  again  a  faint  glimmer  of  light  falls  upon  her; 
then,  once  more,  she  vanishes. 

In  1684,  she  is  seen  in  France.  In  1688,  the 
French  ambassador  speaks  of  her  as  being  in  a 
small  convent  "where  she  is  free  to  come  and  go." 
The  following  year  she  becomes  a  widow.  In 
love,  even  to  the  last,  "the  conndtable,  in  his  will, 
begs  his  wife's  pardon  .  .  .  and  for  fear  his  chil- 
dren should  harbour  some  anger  toward  their 
mother,  he  accuses  himself,  and  endeavours  to 
inspire  them  with  respect,  gratitude,  and  admira- 
tion for  her."^  What  an  excellent  husband! 
She  rewarded  this  magnanimity  by  returning  to 
Italy  where,  under  her  children's  eyes,  she  lived 

*  Mdmoires  de  la  cour  d'Espagne. 
'  Saint-Evremond  de. 


Marie  Mancini  7^ 

after  a  most  profligate  fashion.  She  was  Hearing 
her  fiftieth  year.  A  last  ray  of  light  falls  upon 
her  in  1705.  "Madame  Colonna,"  relates  Saint 
Simon,  "  took  it  into  her  head  to  land  in  Provence, 
where  she  remained  several  months,  without  per- 
mission to  draw  nearer;  at  last  it  was  granted 
her  ...  on  condition  that  she  should  not  enter 
Paris.  She  went  to  Passy.  Outside  of  her  family, 
she  knew  no  one;  .  .  .  disgusted  at  having  been 
so  ill  received,  she  went  quickly  back  of  her  own 
accord." 

And  in  her  family,  what  universal  ruin!  What 
a  return  to  the  original  nothingness!  The  Prin- 
cess of  Conti,  the  saint,  was  dead.  Dead  also  the 
Duchess  of  Modena,  leaving  one  son,  weak  men- 
tally and  physically,  soon  to  die.  Dead,  the 
beautiful  Hortense,  Duchess  of  Mazarin;  her  hus- 
band claimed  her  body,  and  carried  it  about  with 
him.  Olympe,  Duchess  of  Soissons,  compromised 
in  the  poisoning  affair,  had  come  away  from  a 
fete,  in  January,  1680,  to  throw  herself  into  a 
coach,  never  stopping  until  she  had  crossed,  for 
ever,  the  frontier  of  France.  Marie-Anne,  Duchess 
of  Bouillon,  implicated  in  the  same  affair,  was  ban- 
ished, recalled,  then  once  more  banished  for  ever 
from  the  court.  The  only  brother  had  survived 
and  amused  himself  with  writing  pretty  verses; 
he  could  do  nothing  else.  Pushing  our  investi- 
gations a  little  further,  we  find  that  the  Mazarin 
blood,  mixed  with  that  of  so  many  illustrious 
families,    brought    ill-luck   with    it    to    all.      The 


7^  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

houses  of  the  d'Estes,  of  the  Stuarts,^  of  the  Ven- 
domes,^  of  the  Contis,  of  the  Bouillons,  of  the 
Soissons,  died  out,  one  after  the  other. 

And  the  treasures  amassed  by  Mazarin,  his 
millions,  his  old  masters,  his  antique  statues? 
The  Duke  of  Mazarin,  his  heir,  mutilated  the 
statues  with  a  hammer,  smeared  over  the  pic- 
tures, spent  millions  in  law  suits  before  all  the 
courts  of  justice  in  France;  so  that,  according  to 
Monsieur  Amed^e  Renee's  witty  remark,  "It  was 
the  Fronde  that,  after  all,  was  Cardinal  Mazarin's 
real  heir. ' ' 

Marie  Colonna  saw  these  things,  found  that 
France  was  no  longer  ainusing,  and  plunged  defi- 
nitely into  oblivion.  We  do  not  know  when  she 
died,  or  where;  probably  in  Italy  or  Spain,  some- 
where about  17 15.  She  had  become  skilled  in 
the  occult  sciences,  which  accorded  well  with  her 
witch-like  face.  One  can  imagine  her  old,  with 
her  wild,  unkempt  hair,  sordid  in  her  dress, 
wrinkled,  half -impotent.  Of  her  lost  splendour 
nothing  remains  but  the  fire  of  her  black  eyes. 
She  tells  fortunes  and  the  future  remains  dark. 
She  lives  in  the  past.  She  takes  her  guitar,  plays 
and  muses.  She  dreams  that  once  she  barely 
missed  being  queen  of  France. 

1  The  daughter  of  the  Duchess  of  Modena  married  James  II. 
^  Sons  of  the  Duchess  of  Mercoeur. 


LOUIS  XIV 
After  a  print  by  Nanteuil 


CHRISTINA  OF   SWEDEN 

In  the  character  of  Christina  of  Sweden,  daugh- 
ter of  the  great  Gustavus  Adolphus,  there  was 
a  mixture  of  strange  brilHancy  and  of  enig- 
matic romance.  Her  contemporaries  did  not 
know  what  to  make  of  her.  Few  beings  were 
ever  during  their  lifetime  more  praised  and  more 
reviled.  Pages  might  be  filled  with  the  mere 
titles  of  the  odes,  discourses,  panegyrics,  plays, 
in  which  Christina  is  exalted  in  prose  and  verse, 
in  German,  Italian,  Latin,  Swedish,  and  French. 
An  equally  long  list  could  be  composed  of  the 
pamphlets,  memoirs,  and  epigrams  in  which  she 
is  dragged  in  the  mud.  Even  now  she  is  a 
puzzle;  we  find  in  her  traits  of  grandeur  and 
absurdity,  of  nobility  and  perversity.  It  is  an 
open  question  whether  she  was  sincere,  or  whether 
she  threw  dust  in  the  eyes  of  all  Europe.  The 
perplexity  increases  when  the  comedy  of  her  life 
turns  to  tragedy. 

Yet,  light  begins  to  dawn.  Listening  to  Chris- 
tina herself  through  her  letters,  her  diplomatic 
documents,  her  collections  of  maxims,  her  auto- 
biography and  her  marginal  notes,  we  come  to 
know  her  and,  at  the  same  time,  to  understand 
the  contradictory  judgments  of  her  day.     As  this 

73 


74  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

ambiguous  figure  reveals  itself  to  us,  we  are  moved 
by  feelings  equally  ambiguous.  We  are  amused 
and  revolted,  fascinated  and  disgusted. 


Christina  was  bom  at  Stockholm,  December 
8,  1626,  of  Gustavus  Adolphus  and  Mary  Eleonore, 
daughter  of  the  Elector  of  Brandenburg.  A  son 
had  been  predicted  by  the  astrologers;  dreams 
had  confirmed  the  predictions  of  the  stars,  and 
the  son  was  eagerly  expected.  When  the  child 
came  into  the  world  it  seemed  as  though  the  stars 
and  the  occult  powers  had  been  only  half  mis- 
taken and  that  nature  had  really  meant  to  fashion 
a  boy.  The  child  was  so  hairy,  so  dark,  its  voice 
was  so  rough  and  loud  that  it  was  thought  a 
prince  had  been  born.  Unfortunately,  it  was 
but  a  tomboy  of  a  girl,  and  such  Christina 
remained  all  her  life.  Gustavus  Adolphus  was 
soon  consoled ;  not  so  the  queen,  who  looked  upon 
the  black  little  creature  in  horror.  She  could  not 
forgive  her  for  being  a  girl,  especially  for  being 
an  ugly  little  girl.  Christina  insinuates  in  her 
autobiography  ^  that  her  mother's  aversion  was 
answerable   for  the   many   accidents    of    her    in- 

^  Life  of  Queen  Christina,  written  by  herself.  Memoirs  concern- 
ing Christina,  published  by  Arckenholtz,  librarian  to  the  landgrave 
of  Hesse-Cassel  (Amsterdam  and  Leipzig,  4  vols.,  1751-1760).  The 
Memoirs  contain  most  of  the  facts  used  by  historians.  Granert,  in 
1857,  added  certain  other  facts  to  those  related  by  Arckenholtz  in 
his  Christina,  Konigein  von  Schweden  und  ihr  Hof. 


QUEEN  CHRISTINA  OF  SWEDEN 
From  an  old  copper  print 


Christina  of  Sweden  75 

fancy,  and  that  it  was  a  marvel  that  she  came 
out  of  this  dangerous  period  merely  with  one 
shoulder  higher  than  the  other.  Nothing  that 
we  can  learn  of  Mary  Eleonore  warrants  such 
an  accusation. 

The  queen  was  eccentric  and  much  given  to 
tears,  but  she  was  not  bad  at  heart.  Gustavus 
Adolphus  describes  her  in  a  word  "without  judg- 
ment." In  point  of  fact,  she  was  quite  lacking 
in  common  sense.  Her  husband,  however,  was 
very  much  in  love  and  easily  forgave  her  stupidity 
and  eternal  weeping,  because  she  was  "beautiful 
and  gentle."  He  loved  her  after  the  superior 
fashion  of  great  men  towards  feminine  idiots;  he 
enjoyed  seeing  her  gorgeously  dressed,  and  never 
thought  of  confiding  in  her.  He  was  in  the  right, 
for  the  queen  adored  him  and  was  perfectly  con- 
tented with  her  lot.  She  surrounded  herself  with 
dwarfs,  buffoons,  and  people  of  low  degree,  and 
by  way  of  occupation  made  lotions  for  the  pres- 
ervation of  her  complexion.  She  was  outside  of 
everything,  entirely  ignorant  of  what  went  on 
in  the  world,  and  left  to  the  mercy  of  her  servants 
and  their  low  intrigues.  With  her  superstitions, 
her  old-time  notions,  her  barbarous  court  of  mis- 
shapen monsters  and  parasites,  she  represented 
mediaeval  times  at  the  Court  of  Sweden  during 
the  seventeenth  century  under  the  reign  of  Gus- 
tavus Adolphus.  She  was  too  gentle  to  have 
attempted  to  kill  or  maim  her  daughter,  to  pun- 
ish her  for  not  being  a  boy;  she  was,  however,  a 


76  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

deplorable  mother,  and  it  is  but  fair  to  remem- 
ber this  in  judging  Christina.  From  her  mother 
Christina  inherited  a  great  many  faults  and  not 
one  virtue.  All  there  was  good  in  her  nature 
came  from  her  father. 

Gustavus  Adolphus  left  a  dazzling  reputation. 
He  was  the  hero  of  popular  fancy.  Nothing 
which  could  strike  the  imagination  was  lacking 
in  him.  He  came  from  the  distant  and  mysteri- 
ous North,  which  fancy  picturea  as  icebound 
and  lost  in  darkness.  Thirty  years  later,  Huet 
and  Nande,  when  they  reached  Sweden,  were 
childishly  amazed  at  the  flowers,  the  sunshine, 
and  the  cherries.  The  king  himself  seemed  the 
very  incarnation  of  Scandinavian  mythology. 
Emperor  Ferdinand  called  him  ' '  the  king  of  snow, ' ' 
and  the  name  suited  him  wonderfully  well.  He 
was  a  fair-haired  giant,  with  a  golden  beard,  a 
white  and  pink  complexion,  and  gray  eyes  full 
of  fire.  He  was  easily  moved-  to  anger,  terrible 
in  war,  but  gentle  in  times  of  peace  and  when  he 
was  truly  himself.  He  was  then  the  good  and 
joyous  giant,  amenable  to  laughter.  Like  the 
Ases,  companions  of  Odin,  he  loved  to  drink  with 
the  brave  and  to  strike  gallant  blows  in  battle. 
Some  historians  have  blamed  him  for  being  over 
rash,  a  mere  soldier,  contrary  to  the  custom  of 
sovereigns  and  generals.  Christina  took  his  part 
with  great  warmth.  "The  cheap  fashion  of  being 
a  hero,"  said  she,  "at  the  cost  of  cowardice,  was 
not  then    in  vogue.      Nowadays,  the  greater  the 


Christina  of  Sweden  77 

poltroon  the  greater  the  hero."  Whether  the 
doughty  onsets  of  Gustavus  Adolphus  were  reason- 
able or  not,  they  at  least  gave  him  great  renown 
in  the  world. 

His  prowess,  worthy  of  the  old-time  knights, 
did  not  prevent  a  great  taste  for  letters.  He 
spoke  several  languages,  and  had  a  well-chosen 
camp  library  which  followed  him  everywhere. 
He  had  meditated  on  human  affairs,  on  ambition, 
on  the  passion  for  glory,  on  the  fate  of  nations, 
and  he  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  he  was 
the  scourge  of  Sweden,  that  all  great  kings  are 
fatal  to  their  people,  and  every  great  man  a 
plague  to  some  victim  or  other.  "God,"  said 
he,  "never  diverges  from  the  law  of  mediocrity 
without  crushing  some  one.  It  is  a  proof  of  love 
toward  the  humble  when  kings  are  blessed  with 
commonplace  souls."  He  adds  "that,  on  the 
other  hand,  mediocre  princes  at  times  also  bring 
down  calamities  on  their  subjects."  But  these 
calamities  are  light  as  compared  with  those  which 
result  from  a  sovereign's  greatness.  His  violent 
passion  for  glory,  which  deprived  him  of  peace, 
causes  him  naturally  to  deprive  his  subjects  of 
it  as  well.  He  is  like  a  torrent  which  brings 
destruction  there  where  it  passes.  God  had  sent 
him  in  a  moment  of  anger  against  Sweden  to 
win  battles;  he  pitied  his  country  but  never 
dreamed  for  an  instant  of  resisting  this  Heaven- 
appointed  vocation.  When  the  victory  remained 
imcertain,  he  would  dismount,  kneel,  and  call  out 


78  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

loudly  to  the  "God  of  battle."  And  God  testified 
His  favour  by  removing  him  from  the  earth,  in 
the  glory  of  his  youth  and  strength,  and  in  the 
very  midst  of  a  victorious  battle.  Gustavus 
Adolphus  left  the  scene  as  he  had  entered  it. 
Europe  was  dizzy  with  the  spreading  renown  of 
his  genius  and  his  virtues.  His  daughter  Chris- 
tina, like  him,  loved  glory;  but  she  could  never 
distinguish  between  that  which  was  genuine  and 
that  which  was  spurious. 

She  was  not  quite  six  years  old  when  her  father 
was  killed  at  Lutzen,  November  6,  1632.'  All  the 
details  of  the  regency  and  the  guardianship  of 
his  daughter  had  been  ordained  by  Gustavus 
Adolphus.  First  of  all,  he  forbade  that  his  wife 
should  have  any  voice  either  in  the  government 
of  the  state  or  the  education  of  the  child.  He 
had  shuddered  at  the  mere  thought  that  she 
might  have  any  influence;  she  was  debarred  from 
all  action.  This  was  specified  in  the  archives  of 
the  senate  and  repeated  in  the  instructions  given 
to  the  Chancellor  Oxenstiern.  In  his  letters 
during  the  campaign,  the  king  insisted  on  this 
point,  and,  just  before  the  battle  of  Lutzen,  he 
wrote  again  on  the  subject  to  his  minister.  It  is 
remarkable  that  a  husband,  much  in  love  with 
his  wife,  should  have  recognised  her  shortcomings 
so  clearly. 

He  placed  Christina  under  the  guardianship  of 
a  regency  council.  The  senate  and  the  ministers 
were  to  superintend  her  education,  and  to  under- 


QUEEN   ELEONORA  OF  SWEDEN 
From  an  old  copper  print 


Christina  of  Sweden  79 

take  in  concert  to  make  a  great  prince  of  a  very 
wide-awake  little  girl,  for  the  king  had  commanded 
that  she  was  to  be  brought  up  like  a  boy.  He 
himself  chose  for  her  a  governor,  of  whom  Chris- 
tina, grown  old,  approved.  "He  had  been,"  said 
she,  ' '  associated  with  the  king  in  all  his  pleasures, 
the  companion  of  his  journey ings  and  wild  doings, 
the  confidant  of  his  loves." 

This  nobleman  was  proficient  in  all  manly  exer- 
cises, a  courtier  but  very  ignorant ;  moreover,  he 
was  violent  and  choleric,  much  given  to  women 
and  wine  in  his  youth ;  his  vices  did  not  abandon 
him  until  his  death,  though  he  had  moderated  them. 
This  model  of  a  governor  for  a  young  princess  was 
seconded  by  an  under-tutor  equally  fond  of  the 
bottle,  and  a  professor,  doctor  of  theology,  honest 
John  Matthiae.  Chancellor  Oxenstiern  had  abso- 
lute command  of  the  palace.  Unfortunately  for 
Christina  he  had  been  detained  in  Germany  at 
the  death  of  his  master.  The  other  regents  did 
not  dare  to  resist  the  widow  of  Gustavus  Adol- 
phus,  and  Mary  Eleonore  had  leisure  to  commit 
some  follies.  Thanks  to  her,  the  child  nearly 
went  out  of  her  senses. 

The  loss  of  a  husband  was  too  good  an  excuse 
for  weeping  for  the  queen  not  to  make  the  most 
of  it.  She  resolved  that  her  sorrow  should  be 
the  talk  of  the  world.  Night  and  day,  sobs, 
deluges  of  tears  alarmed  the  palace;  this  lasted 
for  weeks,  for  months,  for  years.  She  caused  her 
apartments  to  be  hung  with  black;  the  windows 


8o  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

were  hidden  under  sable  draperies,  so  that  "it 
was  impossible  to  see  an  inch  before  one's  face,"^ 
and  she  wept,  wept,  wept,  by  the  light  of  wax 
tapers.  Once  a  day  she  "visited"  a  gold  box 
hung  above  her  bed;  it  contained  her  husband's 
heart,  and  she  wept  over  the  box.  At  other 
times,  woeful  lamefitations  sounded  in  the  funereal 
chambers.  If  the  queen  had  only  shut  up  her 
dwarfs  and  buffoons  with  her,  there  would  have 
been  little  anxiety;  they  could  take  care  of  them- 
selves. But  she  had  taken  possession  of  Chris- 
tina, whom  she  guarded  jealously,  took  to  bed 
with  her,  so  as  to  force  the  child  to  weep  and 
lament  with  her,  and  to  pass  her  life  in  the  shadow 
of  the  black  draperies.  If  an  attempt  was  made 
to  snatch  the  poor  little  girl  from  her,  she  would 
screech  and  howl.  The  regents  hesitated,  con- 
sulted with  each  other,  and  meanwhile  time  went 
on.  The  return  of  Oxenstiem  released  Christina. 
The  chancellor  hastened  to  send  Mary  Eleonore  to 
one  of  her  castles,  where  she  might  shed  tears  to 
her  heart's  content.  In  the  chronicles  of  the 
day,  her  name  appears  only  now  and  then,  accom- 
panied by  some  such  comment,  "The  queen  wept 
several  hours ;  .  .  .  the  queen  shed  tears  all  night 
long;  .  ..  .  the  queen  could  not  stop  her  sobs.  .  ." 
Christina  for  years  was  unable  to  shake  off 
this  nightmare;  she  was  haunted  by  the  black 
chambers,  the  golden  box,  and  the  paroxysms  of 
sobs,    bursting    out    at    stated    moments.     Mary 

*  Autobiography  of  Christina. 


Christina  of  Sweden  8i 

Eleonore  is  responsible  for  many  of  her  daughter's 
eccentricities. 

The  regents,  the  senate,  and  the  representa- 
tives of  the  state  could  now  undertake  their  great 
task  and  give  the  rare  example  of  a  monarch 
brought  up  by  the  people  to  govern  according  to 
that  people's  ideas.  Christina's  professor  was  the 
nation  itself,  not  excluding  the  fourth  Swedish 
order,  that  of  the  peasantry.  To  make  the  case 
s'^ill  more  singular,  Sweden,  then  a  very  illiterate 
nation,  became  alive  to  the  necessity  of  education 
and  believed  with  an  ardent  faith,  which  has 
never  been  equalled  even  in  our  days,  in  its  mysti- 
cal and  magic  power.  During  ten  years  the 
nation  lived  in  anguish,  watching  the  royal  child's 
progress  in  Latin  and  in  mathematics.  The  pro- 
ficiency of  this  brilliant  pupil  was  heralded  abroad, 
to  the  farthest  limits  of  the  kingdom  "and  ex- 
cited," says  an  historian,  "the  most  joyful  hopes 
for  the  future  happiness  of  the  country."^  The 
queen  was  learning  Greek;  all  thrilled  with  pride; 
she  was  reading  Thucydides;  joy  became  delirium. 
Strangers  looked  upon  her  as  a  little  prodigy ;  she 
was  the  pride  of  the  nation. 

Some  of  Christina's  school  tasks  have  been  pre- 
served and  a  selection  of  them  printed.  The 
French  themes  are  much  such  as  are  written 
nowadays  in  ordinary  girls'  schools.  There  is 
one  on  Patience,  one  on  Constancy.  A  third, 
in   the    form  of   a   letter,   condoles    with  a  lady 

1  Granert. 


82  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

on  the  death  of  her  husband.  The  schoolgirl, 
endeavouring  to  express  noble  sentiments,  made 
rather  a  muddle  of  them.  "We  must  consider," 
said  she,  "that  as  no  captive  leaves  his  prison 
without  great  profit  to  himself,  likewise  the  souls, 
imprisoned  on  earth,  feel  at  the  moment  of  their 
deliverance  the  joy  of  a  life  free  from  regrets  and 
sighs;  thus,  death  gives  the  assurance  of  happi- 
ness." Christina  was  sixteen  years  of  age  when 
she  composed  this  masterpiece,  which  imprudent 
courtiers  offered  to  the  admiration  of  posterity. 
The  same  enthusiastic  persons  went  into  ecstasies 
over  her  Latin  exercises,  which  they  discovered  to 
be  full  of  "elegance."  I  dare  to  call  it  "Kitchen 
Latin,"  but  in  any  case  the  quality  of  her  Latin 
mattered  very  little  for  the  happiness  of  the 
nation. 

The  Swedish  government  was  by  no  means  of 
that  opinion.  What  would  become  of  Sweden 
were  its  queen  to  be  guilty  of  a  solecism?  Pre- 
cautions were  taken  against  so  great  an  evil, 
Matthiae  was  obliged  to  render  a  strict  account  of 
her  progress.  The  regency  was  thus  made  aware 
that,  on  the  26th  of  February,  1639,  the  queen 
had  undertaken  the  Dialogues  Francais  of  Sam- 
uel Bernard;  that  on  the  30th  of  March  she 
had  committed  to  memory  Cato's  speech,  in  Sal- 
luste,  and  on  April  6th  that  of  Catilina  to  his 
soldiers;  that  she  was  learning  astronomy  in  a 
book  which  dated  from  the  thirteenth  century,  in 
which  no  heretical  opinions  on  the  rotation  of  the 


Christina  of  Sweden  83 

earth  could  be  found;  that  in  history  she  began 
with  the  Pentateuch,  which  was  followed  by  the 
War  of  Thebes,  and  that  she  read,  most  atten- 
tively, an  old  Swedish  book  recommended  by 
Gustavus  Adolphus,  in  which  the  art  of  governing 
was  condensed  in  maxims.  A  commission  of  sena- 
tors, to  make  sure  that  the  queen  was  a  conscien- 
tious pupil,  examined  her  on  each  branch  of 
Jearning.  The  states  voted  as  to  the  best  way 
that  the  queen  "might  be  brought  up  and  edu- 
cated," and  made  use  of  this  good  opportunity  to 
recommend  that  her  Majesty  should  have  no  ideas 
inculcated  "that  might  be  dangerous  to  the 
liberties  and  circumstances  of  the  state  or  the 
subjects  of  the  kingdom." 

Never  was  pupil  subjected  to  a  harder  training, 
and  no  pupil  ever  needed  this  training  less.  The 
little  queen  was  gifted  with  remarkable  facility 
and  a  passionate  desire  to  learn.  She  wanted  to 
know  all  things  and  she  understood  them  all. 
She  forgot  to  eat  and  drink,  she  deprived  herself 
of  sleep ;  in  a  word,  she  made  her  poor  little  brain 
work  until  it  was  in  real  danger.  Christina  had 
no  luck  in  her  bringing-up.  Scarcely  had  she  been 
snatched  from  her  mother's  terrifying  black 
chamber  when  she  fell  a  prey  to  very  honest 
people  who  thought  it  their  duty  to  make  of  her 
a  youthful  prodigy,  and  who,  most  unfortunately, 
succeeded  only  too  well.  No  one  about  her 
seemed  to  understand  that  a  little  girl  ought  to 
play  with  her  doll.     The  less  child-like  she  was 


84  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

the  more  pleased  were  these  good  souls.  She 
knew  neither  rest  nor  recreation.  From  year's 
end  to  year's  end  she  worked  unremittingly, 
feverishly,  taking,  by  way  of  diversion,  most  vio- 
lent and  excessive  exercise.  She  was  stunted  in 
her  growth,  her  blood  was  over-heated,  and  sev- 
eral times  she  was  at  death's  door;  but  she  knew 
eight  languages,  could  embarrass  her  professor  at 
Greek,  discoursed  on  philosophy,  and  had  her 
views  on  the  woman  question.  She  was  really 
a  little  scholar  and,  in  spite  of  all,  she  was  bright, 
witty,  and  sometimes  very  amusing.  Those  about 
her  were  some  time  before  discovering  that,  as  a 
result  of  all  this  forcing,  the  springs  of  her  mind, 
already  taxed  by  the  absurdities  of  her  mother, 
were  really  somewhat  out  of  order.  Sweden 
prided  itself  on  the  accomplishment  of  its  task 
and  admired  its  young  sovereign  without  any  mis- 
givings. 

What  more  could  one  ask  of  her?  She  knew 
by  heart  the  Lutheran  catechism,  and  quoted  the 
Bible  like  a  bishop.  She  was  to  have  become  to 
all  intents  a  boy;  she  went  farther.  She  was 
dishevelled,  grimy-handed,  ill-dressed,  she  swore 
like  a  musketeer;  but  she  rode  to  perfection, 
killed  a  hare  with  a  bullet,  slept  on  a  hard  bed, 
and  from  the  depths  of  her  soul  despised  women, 
women's  ideas,  women's  work,  women's  talk. 
When  she  galloped  along,  free  and  bold,  wearing 
a  man's  hat  and  doublet,  her  hair  flying,  her  face 
tanned,  her  subjects  were  perhaps  not  quite  sure 


ti^^ja  :J3'J5ft?taii3ii 


QUSTAVUS   ADOLPHUS 
From  an  old  copper  print 


Christina  ot  Sweden  85 

that  they  were  governed  by  a  prince,  but  they 
were  certainly  persuaded  that  they  were  not  under 
the  sway  of  a  princess.  Her  face,  which  was  that 
of  a  youth,  helped  to  bewilder  them.  Christina 
was  large-featured;  she  had  a  powerful,  aquiline 
nose,  her  underlip  was  a  little  over-hanging,  her 
fine  blue  eyes  were  full  of  fire.  She  also  had  a 
manly  voice  which,  however,  she  knew  how  to 
soften.  She  was  small  and  slightly  misshapen, 
but  her  agility  and  liveliness  made  of  her  an 
amusing  and  pretty  boy.  The  people  were  pas- 
sionately fond  of  her.  Neither  the  "five  big 
old  fellows,"  as  she  called  the  regents,  nor  honest 
Matthiae,  nor  the  drunkard  of  a  governor,  nor  the 
court  chaplain,  nor  any  of  the  courtiers,  the  sol- 
diers, the  magistrates,  nor  the  scholars  who  sur- 
rounded her  from  morning  till  night,  ever 
suspected  the  volcano  hidden  under  that  frolic- 
some appearance.  They  would  have  shuddered 
had  they  been  able  to  read  the  confessions  of  the 
Autobiography. 

In  this  precious  bit  of  literature,  which  was 
never  finished,  Christina  erected  an  altar  for  her- 
self. It  was  the  fashion  of  the  day.  This  was 
the  era  of  "portraits,"  which,  with  perfect 
candour,  initiated  the  public  into  one's  intimacy, 
relating  good  and  evil  of  oneself,  always  leaning 
a  little  more  upon  the  former.  In  truth  there  is 
less  pride,  and  especially  less  evil  pride,  in  trying 
to  appear  at  one's  best  before  the  crowd,  than  in 
exhibiting  one's  vices,  after  the  example  of  Rous- 


86  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

seau.  The  only  fault  we  can  find  with  Christina 
is  that  she  slightly  exceeded  her  right  to  make  the 
most  of  her  model's  good  points. 

She  dwells,  more  than  anyone  would  ever  dare 
to  do  nowadays,  on  her  heart,  "great  and  noble 
from  its  earliest  being;"  on  her  soul  "forged  of 
the  same  steel;"  on  the  "innumerable  talents," 
which  singled  her  out  for  the  admiration,  of  the 
world.  As  to  her  faults  which,  according  to  the 
rule  of  such  writings,  she  does  not  wish  to  hide, 
she  ascribes  to  herself  such  as  may  become  her 
royal  rank,  such  as  do  not  disqualify  a  superior 
being.  "I  was  suspicious,"  said  she,  "and  ambi- 
tious beyond  all  bounds.  I  was  passionate  and 
violent,  proud  and  impatient,  contemptuous  of 
others  and  sarcastic."  All  that  does  well  enough, 
but  a  little  later  she  adds,  "Moreover,  I  was 
incredulous  and  by  no  means  given  to  piety;  my 
impetuous  nature  was  as  prone  to  love  as  to 
ambition."  She  however  protests  that  God,  who 
does  not  seem  to  have  taken  umbrage  at  her  want 
of  faith,  preserved  her  from  the  errors  to  which 
her  nature  had  predestined  her.  ' '  However  close 
to  the  precipice  I  may  have  gone,  Thy  all-powerful 
hand  drew  me  back."  She  is  quite  aware  that 
calumny  has  not  spared  her.  On  one  occasion 
she  accuses  herself  of  "having  been  too  contemp- 
tuous of  the  proprieties  to  which  her  sex  should 
be  subject,"  and  that  it  is  this  which  caused  her 
to  be  often  most  unjustly  condemned.  She 
acknowledges   that   in   this   she   was  wrong,   but 


Christina  of  Sweden  87 

adds  that,  were  the  occasion  to  present  itself  once 
more,  she  would  be  even  more  reckless.  ' '  I  am 
persuaded  that  I  should  have  done  better  to  rid 
myself,  once  and  for  all,  of  these  trammels;  this 
is  a  weakness  which  I  cannot  forgive  myself.  I 
was  not  bom  for  the  yoke;  I  should  have  thrown 
it  off  altogether,  as  became  my  rank  and  my 
nature." 

Her  most  religious  Lutheran  subjects  believed 
even  more  firmly  than  did  this  "  incredtilous " 
princess,  so  little  given  to  piety,  that  a  divine 
hand  was  sure  to  keep  her  from  tumbling  dowii 
certain  precipices.  Still,  had  they  guessed  how 
necessary  this  help  was  to  keep  their  young  queen 
on  the  straight  road,  they  would  have  been  horror- 
stricken.  In  spite  of  drinking,  swearing,  and 
much  native  coarseness,  these  half -barbarians  were 
of  a  grave  and  religious  turn  of  mind,  as  it  behooves 
sincere  Protestants  to  be.  God  was  a  witness  of 
their  daily  acts,  and  thus  ever  ready  to  help  or 
avenge  them.  When  Gustavus  Adolphus  took 
leave  of  the  states,  before  sailing  for  Germany, 
all  sang  in  chorus  the  hymn,  "In  the  morning, 
fill  us  with  Thy  grace.  .  .  .  We  shall  be  joyous  all 
through  the  day."  These  people  looked  upon  life 
seriously,  whereas  to  Christina  it  was  a  masque- 
rade. In  spite  of  the  wit,  the  charm,  the  courage, 
and  the  science  of  this  extraordinary  girl,  she  and 
they  could  not  long  agree.  She  lacked  one  gift, 
a  sense  of  morality,  and  she  fell  upon  a  nation 
which  would  lose  everything  rather  than  that. 


88  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

When  she  was  eighteen,  the  states  proclaimed 
her  majority,  and  the  regents  gave  up  the  power 
into  her  hands.  The  value  of  this  education, 
given  by  the  whole  nation  to  the  girl-queen,  was 
now  to  be  tested. 

II 

The  states,  very  wisely,  had  recommended  that 
she  should  be  fashioned  into  a  true  Swede,  obedi- 
ent to  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  country, 
"both  physically  and  morally."  The  senate  and 
the  regency,  in  this  respect,  were  of  one  mind  with 
the  states.  With  this  end  in  view,  we  are  aghast 
at  the  means  employed  to  reach  it.  The  more 
we  consider  the  Sweden  of  Gustavus  Adolphus 
the  less  we  understand  why  great  culture  and 
studies,  carried  over-far,  should  have  been  em- 
ployed to  inspire  Christina  with  the  love  of  her 
country. 

A  great  prince  had  covered  it  with  glory,  but 
the  campaigns  of  Gustavus  Adolphus,  while  they 
made  Sweden  powerful,  had  by  no  means  softened 
the  people.  He  found  it  rough,  and  rough  he 
left  it.  When  he  came  to  the  throne,  in  1611, 
ignorance  was  deep  and  almost  universal.  There 
was  a  single  and  mediocre  school  at  Upsal;^  for 
various  reasons  but  few  young  men  frequented 
foreign   universities.     The   middle   class  was   not 

^  The  University  of  Upsal  was  founded  in  1476.  At  the  period 
we  are  studying,  it  had  fallen  to  the  rank  of  a  mere  school.  Gustavus 
Adolphus  reorganized  it. 


Christina  of  Sweden  89 

rich.  The  nobles  despised  learning  according  to 
a  tradition  still  dear  to  aristocrats.  Numbers  of 
magistrates  could  barely  sign  their  name,  and 
many  excellent  generals  were  in  the  same  case, 
Gustavus  Adolphus  founded  schools  and  imported 
a  bookseller  from  Germany,  but  he  could  not 
create  a  learned  faculty  out  of  nothing.  At  one 
time  the  medical  school  of  Upsal  boasted  but  of 
one  professor;  he  sufficed,  however,  the  number 
of  pupils  being  very  small.  The  evil  of  the  day 
was  pedantism,  which  flourished,  thanks  to  the 
efforts  of  a  few  scholars.  Doctor  Pancrace  and 
Trissotin  would,  in  Sweden,  have  found  kindred 
spirits. 

Theology  alone  prospered  in  this  intellectual 
desert.  A  zealous  clergy  catechised  the  faithful 
and  preached  to  them  with  a  sort  of  fury  and  with 
such  fervour  that,  in  spite  of  an  ardent  faith,  the 
congregations  bewailed  the  length  of  the  sermons. 
The  lower  classes,  to  what  they  were  taught, 
added  a  thousand  superstitions  which,  to  them, 
represented  poetry;  the  people  were  very  poor, 
very  ignorant,  and  their  lives  were  hard  and 
dreary. 

The  customs  were  as  primitive  as  the  ideas. 
The  deputies,  sent  by  the  order  of  peasantry, 
took  part  in  state  affairs  in  rags.  The  houses  of 
the  nobles  were  whitewashed  and  very  scantily 
furnished.  At  meal  times  a  canopy  was  sus- 
pended over  the  table  to  keep  the  spiders  and 
their  webs  from  falling  into  the  dishes.     The  table 


90  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

appurtenances  were  in  keeping  with  the  furniture. 
At  the  wedding  feast  of  Gustavus  Adolphus 
pewter  dishes  were  used,  and  even  these  had  to  be 
borrowed.  The  food  was  coarse;  even  at  the 
king's  table  there  was  nothing  superfluous,  such 
as  cakes  or  desserts,  nothing  but  meat,  and  what 
was  left  over  was  served  anew.  The  mother  of 
Gustavus  Adolphus  made  her  own  purchases  of 
wine,  and  the  merchant  had  to  wait  long  before 
he  was  paid.  Prince  Charles  Augustus,  who 
reigned  after  Christina,  wrote  lengthily  to  his 
mother  before  he  could  make  up  his  mind  as  to 
which  would  be  more  economical :  to  have  an  every- 
day suit  made,  or  to  wear  out  one  of  his  Sunday 
doubtlets.  A  traveller  ^  relates  that  the  copper 
money  was  "as  big  as  tiles."  If  this  detail  is 
correct  it  is  characteristic. 

They  had  only  one  luxury,  drinking;  but  they 
certainly  did  justice  to  that.  At  the  marriage 
of  Gustavus  Adolphus,  seVenty-seven  hogsheads  of 
Rhine  wine  and  a  hundred  and  forty-four  casks 
of  beer  were  drunk,  without  counting  other  kinds 
of  wine  and  brandy.  Great  rejoicings  took  the 
form  of  sitting  in  front  of  numberless  bottles, 
drinking  to  one's  heart's  content,  throwing  glasses 
at  each  other  and,  finally,  rolling  under  the  table. 
At  court  and  at  the  inn  things  were  much  on  the 
same  level.  No  one,  not  even  a  bishop,  had  the 
right  to  refuse  a  toast. 

Stockholm  had  the  appearance  of  a  half  bar- 

1  Huet. 


Christina  of  Sweden  91 

barous  capital.  From  afar  one  saw  a  multitude 
of  monuments  and  palaces,  whose  sparkling  roofs, 
covered  with  copper,  looked  down  upon  mounds 
of  grass.  Massive  towers,  Turkish  minarets, 
steeples  of  every  shape,  palaces  with  Greek  colon- 
nades, formed  a  most  heterogeneous  and  pictur- 
esque mass.^  As  to  houses,  there  were  none.  On 
drawing  near,  one  saw  that  the  green  mounds  were 
habitations  made  of  wood  and  covered  with  turf. 
In  such  a  case  it  is  well  to  quote  one's  authori- 
ties. We  give  way  to  the  very  truthful  Huet, 
bishop  of  Avranches,  who  visited  Stockholm  in 
1652.  "The  windows,"  says  he,  "are  pierced  in 
the  roof,  which  is  formed  of  boards  and  the  bark 
of  birch  that  does  not  rot,  the  whole  is  covered 
with  grass.  This  sort  of  roof,  according  to  Virgil, 
was  used  by  the  peasants  in  Italy.  With  the 
grass,  oats  and  other  grains  are  sown;  their  roots 
cling  to  the  wood  and  strengthen  it.  In  this  wise, 
the  tops  of  the  houses  are  like  fields  of  verdure 
and  flowers;  I  have  seen  sheep  and  pigs  browse 
thereon.  Roofs  are  thus  formed,  so  I  was  told, 
in  order  that  the  houses,  made  of  resinous  wood,, 
should  be  protected  from  lightning,  and  also  that, 
in  time  of  war,  the  animals  may  there  find  their 
food."  Stockholm  could  boast  of  being  a  very 
original  city.^ 

Sweden  would  have  required  a  great  effort  to 

1  Ch.  Ponsonailhe,  Sdbastien  Bourbon. 

'  A  learned  Icelander,  who  wrote  during  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, Jonas  Amgrim,  gives  a  similar  description  of  the  houses  in  his 
country  (Reipub  Island,  chap.  vi). 


92  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

catch  up  with  other  Occidental  nations,  and  the 
reign  of  Gustavus  Adolphus  gave  no  scope  for 
pacific  enterprises.  The  hero  knew  what  he  was 
saying  when  he  assured  his  astonished  officers  that 
"God  was  very  good  to  the  nations  whose  sover- 
eigns had  commonplace  souls."  He  left  his  king- 
dom exhausted,  without  money,  ruined  by  the 
frequent  passage  of  troops,  crushed  with  taxes, 
and  at  his  death  the  war  was  not  ended.  His 
political  confidant,  Oxenstiem,  went  on  with  it, 
and  the  fate  of  the  land  was  most  lamentable. 
The  peasants  were  at  their  wits'  end.  Tormented 
by  the  soldiery,  tormented  by  the  tax-gatherer, 
finding  neither  succour  nor  pity  when  they  applied 
to  the  all-powerful  chancellor,  they  entered  into 
open  revolt  and,  in  despair,  emigrated.  A  part 
of  Sweden  had  gone  to  waste. 

In  order  to  govern  this  simple  nation,  the}/"  had 
formed  a  queen,  fed  on  fine  literature,  in  love 
with  poetry,  fond  of  rare  editions  and  costly 
manuscripts.  To  govern  this  poverty-stricken 
land,  they  had  formed  a  queen  who  adored  beauti- 
ful furniture,  pictures,  statues,  medals,  royal 
pomp.  To  live  in  this  rough  country,  they  had 
formed  a  queen  whose  dream  was  of  southern 
scenes  and  Italian  skies.  To  win  the  confidence 
of  this  dreary  intellectual  abyss,  they  had  formed 
a  queen  whose  mind  was  the  most  restless,  the 
most  disturbed,  the  most  audacious,  the  most 
undisciplined,  the  most  distorted  that  ever  was 
created.     And  to  cap  the  climax,  they  had  formed 


COUNT  AXEL  OXENSTIERN 
From  an  old  copper  print 


Christina  of  Sweden  93 

a  queen  so  masculine  in  her  tastes  that  she  con- 
sidered marriage  degrading  and  refused  to  bear 
children,  wishing  to  learn  the  art  of  war  instead. 
And  when  it  was  discovered  that  Sweden,  loyal 
and  devoted,  but  fanatical  and  rustic,  bored 
Christina  beyond  expression,  Sweden  was  amazed 
and  much  scandalised.  So  much  evil  has  been 
heaped  in  the  balance  against  Christina,  that  it 
is  but  fair  to  consider  what  may  excuse  her.  She 
was  brought  up  to  reign  over  Florence  rather 
than  over  cobweb -hung  Stockholm.  It  was  not 
quite  her  fault  if  she  found  her  fate  a  hard  one. 
Oxenstiem  had  been  the  real  sovereign  of 
Sweden  during  her  minority.  He  was  responsible 
for  the  greater  part  of  this  deplorable  education; 
it  was  he  who  plucked  its  first  bitter  fruits.  For 
eight  years  past  he  had  spent  three  hours  a  day 
teaching  the  art  of  government  to  the  little  queen, 
and  during  those  eight  years  he  had  found  in  her 
a  docile  and  grateful  pupil.  Once  Christina  took 
the  reins  in  her  own  hands  —  farewell  to  submis- 
sion! This  sort  of  boy  in  petticoats  had  her  own 
ideas  on  government,  and  they  were  by  no  means 
those  that  had  been  inculcated  to  her.  Oxen- 
stiem had  fed  her  with  the  purest  aristocratic 
traditions,  and  her  own  convictions  smelt  of  the 
gutter.  She  insisted  that  personal  merit  was 
everything,  birth  nothing.  "There  are,"  said 
she,  "peasants  bom  kings  and  kings  who  ought 
to  be  peasants;  there  is  a  rabble  of  kings  as  there 
is   a  rabble   of  ruffians."     Having   discovered   a 


94  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

talented  but  low-born  Swede,  she  proclaimed  him 
ambassador  and  senator,  and  foisted  him  on  the 
senate  with  these  words,  worthy  of  Beaumarchais, 
"Salvias  would  doubtless  be  a  great  man  had  he 
come  of  a  noble  family." 

In  foreign  affairs  the  same  kind  of  surprise  was 
in  store  for  those  who  had  praised  her  superior 
mind.  Taking  her  flatterers  at  their  word  she 
refused  to  accept  a  guide.  She  wished  for  peace, 
in  which  she  surely  was  not  wrong,  and,  in  spite 
of  Oxenstiem,  signed  the  treaty  of  Westphalia. 
The  old  statesman  was  bound  to  acknowledge 
that  he  had  found  his  master.  He  had  to  do  with 
a  young  woman  who  did  not  fear  a  struggle. 
"Our  passions,"  said  she,  "are  the  salt  of  the 
earth;  one  is  happy  or  unhappy  according  as  one 
has  wrestled  with  them." 

Ill 

It  was  plain  that  she  meant  to  establish  her 
independence.  What  she  meant  to  do  with  it  was 
less  clear.  She  wrote,  "*To  some,  all  things  are 
allowed,  and  all  are  becoming."  She  was,  of 
course,  among  these  privileged  few  and  acted  in 
accordance.  She  was  of  opinion  that  follies  have 
less  importance  than  is  usually  attributed  to  them. 
Feeble  souls  alone  stop  to  weep  over  past  faults. 
Strong  minds  never  forget  that  "there  is  so  little 
difference  between  wisdom  and  folly  that  this 
difference  is  scarcely  worth  considering,  especially 


Christina  of  Sweden  95 

if  we  remember  how  short  life  is."  What  is  wise 
and  what  is  f ooHsh  ?  Instead  of  wasting  our  time 
looking  at  the  past,  let  us  look  at  the  future.  "All 
that  is  no  more  is  not  worth  a  thought;  one  must 
ever  begin  anew."  A  convenient  precept,  and  one 
which  Queen  Christina  always  adopted  for  her 
own  use.  Whatever  might  be  the  past  she  made 
up  her  accounts  with  her  conscience  and  began 
afresh.  In  so  doing  she  took  on  such  an  air  of 
bravado  that  she  irritated  the  gallery  and  brought 
upon  herself  severe  strictures.  She  ought  perhaps 
not  to  have  forgotten  certain  things  so  easily. 

She  has  been  accused  of  having  had  a  band  of 
favourites,  immediately  after  her  emancipation, 
and  ugly  words  have  been  used  with  regard  to 
her  conduct.  The  subject  is  a  delicate  one,  but 
in  spite  of  many  injurious  pamphlets  there  has 
been  sufficient  uncertainty  for  the  queen's  virtue 
to  find  some  champions.^  How  can  one  be  sure 
of  such  things?  She  made  no  secret  of  choosing 
favourites  among  the  younger  and  more  amiable 
men  who  crowded  about  her.  That,  in  her  day, 
scurrilous  pamphlets  found  much  echo  in  the 
public  mind,  that  her  conduct  was  severely  criti- 
cised, is  also  quite  true.  That  one  should  take 
as  gospel    truth    the    declarations  of    her  Auto- 

*  Among  others,  Arckenholtz  and  Granert,  who  ingenuously 
confess  that  they  were  influenced  by  the  desire  to  contradict  the 
French  writers.  Arckenholtz  in  a  footnote  says  that  a  Swedish 
historian  of  his  day,  Gioerwell,  told  him  that  he  was  alone  of  his 
opinion  "that  Christina  had  not  overstepped  the  botindaries  of 
chastity." 


96  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

biography  on  the  subject  of  the  precipice,  often 
approached,  always  avoided,  is  quite  another 
matter.  The  argument  that  her  masculine  tastes 
were  sufficient  protection  is  not  altogether  con- 
vincing. On  the  other  hand  appearances  might 
be  misleading,  with  a  young  woman  who  dressed 
like  a  man,  lived  a  man's  life,  and  had  valets  in 
place  of  maids.  After  all,  each  one  is  free  to 
have  his  own  opinions  of  Christina's  virtue. 

From  one  reproach  the  queen  could  not  vindi- 
cate herself.  She  says  somewhere,  ' '  The  passi'on 
of  those  we  cannot  love  is  insupportable."  She 
might  have  completed  the  aphorism  thus:  "The 
passion  of  those  we  no  longer  love  is  insupport- 
able." Favourites  came  and  went  with  alarming 
rapidity.  At  first  she  adored  them,  showered 
dignities,  honours,  money  on  them,  as,  for  in- 
stance, on  Magnus  of  Gardie,  the  first  on  the  list, 
who  was  twenty-two,  handsome,  and  of  "noble 
air."  She  made  him  ambassador,  colonel,  sena- 
tor, grand  master  of  her  household,  grand  treas- 
urer. When  she  wearied  of  these  poor  fellows  she 
got  rid  of  them  without  the  slightest  ceremony; 
this  was  the  case  with  Magnus  when  she  replaced 
him  by  Pimentel,  ambassador  from  Spain.  She 
refused  to  see  her  ex-favourite  and  wrote,  in  her 
own  hand,  on  the  margin  of  a  history  of  her  reign, 
"Count  Magnus  was  a  drunkard  and  a  liar."  On 
all  occasions  she  put  into  practice  her  own  maxim 
that  one  should  never  look  back,  but  always  begin 
life    anew.     "Those   who   make   good   use   of  all 


Christina  of  Sweden  97 

things,"  said  she,  "are  wise  and  happy."  As  far 
as  favourites  went,  she  made  use  of  all  who  were 
within  her  grasp. 

The  reign  of  La  Gar  die  was  also,  at  Stockholm, 
the  reign  of  French  politics,  of  French  wit,  of 
French  literature,  of  French  fashions.  The  treaty 
with  France  was  renewed  (165 1).  The  queen 
gave  the  lion's  share  to  France  in  the  crowd  of 
scholars,  of  writers,  of  artists,  that  composed  her 
famous  and  superb  court.  Naude  took  charge  of 
her  library.  Saumaise  spent  a  year  with  her,  not 
however  without  much  coaxing,  for  no  man  of 
letters  was  ever  vainer  than  he.  Descartes 
allowed  himself  to  be  tempted,  for  his  own  mis- 
fortune and  for  science's  loss.  Christina  forced 
him  to  come  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  through 
the  bitter  cold,  to  discuss  philosophy  with  her. 
After  some  months  of  this  tyranny  he  died. 
Bochart,  the  Orientalist,  brought  his  friend  Huet, 
future  bishop  of  Avranches.  Sebastien  Bourdon, 
Nanteuil,  Francois  Parise,  the  medal  engraver,  the 
architect  Simon  de  la  Vallee,  worked  in  Sweden 
for  the  queen.  Her  secretary  for  state  affairs  was 
Chevreau,  who  later  was  tutor  to  the  Duke  of 
Maine.  Her  four  other  secretaries  were  French. 
French,  her  doctor  and  her  surgeon.  French,  a 
heterogeneous  crowd  of  men;  scholars,  philos- 
ophers, grammarians,  makers  of  court  verses, 
pedants,  intriguers,  fine  gentlemen,  charlatans  of 
every  description,  valets  fit  for  any  sort  of  low 
work.     Among  these  we  must  distinguish  Clairet 


98  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

Poissonnet,  a  veritable  genius  in  his  way,  first 
valet  of  the  chamber,  and  confidant  of  the  queen's 
secrets.  Poissonnet  could  neither  read  nor  write, 
but  whenever  his  mistress  had  on  hand  some  very 
complicated  affair,  she  entrusted  it  to  him.  She 
sent  him  to  the  Pope,  also  to  Mazarin.  He  was 
celebrated  for  the  way  in  which  he  wormed  secrets 
out  of  others  while  he  kept  his  own  counsel;  but 
he  was  forced  to  have  his  letters  written  for  him 
and  the  answers  read.  Mazarin,  well  up  in  such 
matters,  greatly  admired  Poissonnet. 

Swedish,  German,  Dutch  scholars  and  writers 
completed  this  original  court,  of  which  Christina 
was  the  soul.  The  care  of  the  state  did  not  en- 
croach on  her  studies.  She  took  from  her  hours  of 
sleep,  of  meals,  from  those  which  might  with  ad- 
vantage have  been  given  to  dress,  in  order  to  attend 
to  public  affairs.  Thanks  to  this  system,  she  had 
trained  herself  to  sleep  but  three  hours,  to  dine  in 
a  jiffy,  and  to  comb  her  hair  once  in  eight  days  — ■ 
sometimes,  she  would  skip  a  week.  To  the  ink- 
stained  schoolgirl  had  succeeded  an  ink-stained, 
grimy-handed,  ill-kempt  queen,  whose  linen  was 
doubtful  and  torn,  but  who  had  read  Petronius 
and  Martial,  was  afraid  of  no  ill-sounding  words, 
was  very  learned,  and  could  discuss  and  argue  with 
the  best.  She  hated  pedantry,  so  detestable  in 
women;  the  sparkle  of  her  wit  saved  her  from  it, 
even  when  she  discoursed  with  pedants  on  pedan- 
tic subjects.  Her  reputation  spread  all  over  Eu- 
rope, so  that  her  people  were  very  proud  of  her; 


Christina  of  Sweden  99 

only  it  was  becoming  very  evident  that  brilliant 
sovereigns  are  an  expensive  Ivixury. 

We  can  scarcely,  nowadays,  realise  the  cost  of 
such  a  court.  Our  monarchs  have  scholars  for 
nothing.  Two  and  a  half  centuries  ago  that  was 
not  the  case.  The  honour  of  a  great  man's  visits 
was  paid  for,  and  Christina  was  generous.  A  bag 
of  gold,  a  pension,  a  golden  chain  were  bestowed 
on  the  men  who  gave  lustre  to  her  throne.  When 
she  could  not  secure  their  presence  she  wrote  to 
them,  and  other  pensions,  other  chains  of  gold 
found  their  way  out  of  the  country.  Europe  was 
full  of  leeches  that  sucked  the  lif eblood  of  Sweden ; 
throughout  the  land  the  people  murmured  and 
rebelled.  The  Swedes  could  not  think  without 
bitterness  of  the  money  which  they  had  produced 
by  the  sweat  of  the  brow  and  which  went  to  for- 
eigners. Their  anger  grew  as  they  saw  these  aliens 
devouring  their  fair  country  like  a  prey,  and  who 
encouraged  their  queen  in  her  disastrous  extrava- 
gance. Her  people  died  of  hunger  while  she  com- 
pleted her  artistic  collections. 

She  took  great  glory  in  these  collections,  and  in 
truth  they  were  remarkable.  Her  library  was 
unrivalled  in  Europe  and  boasted  of  eight  thou- 
sand rare  manuscripts.  The  old  masters,  beauti- 
ful curios  abounded  in  her  picture  gallery  and 
cabinets,  where,  beside  antique  statues  there  were 
medals,  ivories,  and  innumerable  costly  gems. 
And  yet,  real  connoisseurs  held  these  in  mediocre 
esteem,   because  Christina  had  proceeded  like  a 

LOFC. 


loo         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

veritable  parvenue,  spending  money  lavishly,  but 
showing  no  discernment,  no  real  love  of  art.  Her 
library  and  museums  were  but  a  setting  for  her  own 
extraordinary  personality.  She  had  paid  one  hun- 
dred and  sixty  thousand  crowns  for  two  manu- 
scripts,^ but  she  did  not  even  know  that  many 
books  in  her  library  had  been  stolen  from  her.  She 
possessed  eleven  pictures  by  Correggio  and  two  by 
Raphael ;  but  she  cut  up  her  finest  paintings  so  as  to 
ornament  with  the  heads,  hands,  and  feet  the  ceil- 
ings of  her  palace.    Such  things  stamp  a  collector. 

In  her  noblest  tastes  we  find  that  unhealthy 
desire  to  attract  the  world's  attention  which 
caused  her  ruin.  Even  her  most  ardent  admirers 
acknowledged  her  insatiable  vanity.  This  female 
philosopher  adored  flattery  and,  with  joy,  breathed 
in  whatever  incense  was  offered  her.  She  did  not 
disdain  to  bum  incense  to  herself,  and  inniimer- 
able  are  the  medals  that  she  caused  to  be  struck 
which  represented  her  as  Minerva,  Diana  subdu- 
ing wild  beasts,  or  as  winged  Victory  crowned 
with  laurels.  She  encouraged  panegyrics  in  verse 
and  prose.  She  confirmed  herself  in  the  sense  of 
her  own  importance  by  bombarding  with  officious 
advice  Retz  and  Mazarin,  Conde  and  Louis  XIV, 
the  kings  of  Poland  and  Spain.     Her  advice  was 

^  For  the  benefit  of  scholars,  here  are  the  titles  of  these  two 
manuscripts:  The  Ecclesiastical  History  of  Philostorgus  and  The 
Bahylonics  of  Jamblique.  After  the  ^death  of  Christina  these 
manuscripts  went  to  the  Vatican  library.  The  second  was  con- 
sidered as  spurious.  It  is  not  known  whether  the  first  contained 
the  original  text  or  an  extract  given  by  Photius. 


Christina  of  Sweden  loi 

ill  received;  but,  undaunted,  she  continued  to 
give  it.  Her  attempt  to  correspond  with  the  king 
of  Spain  is  an  amusing  example  of  her  mad  desire 
for  notoriety. 

In  1653,  an  unfortunate  negro,  lost  in  Germany, 
was  seeking  for  something,  he  could  not  explain 
what,  as  no  one  understood  his  language.  A 
scholar  of  Erfurt,  Job  Ludolf,  author  of  works 
on  Ethiopia  and  the  Ethiopian  language,  was  then 
at  Stockholm.  He  persuaded  Christina  that  this 
negro  was  an  Ethiopian  and  that,  doubtless,  he 
was  in  search  of  her  august  person  in  order  to 
compliment  her  on  her  researches  with  regard 
to  his  country.  He  added  that  in  all  probability 
the  traveller's  name  was  Akalaktus.  This  was 
the  very  occasion  to  make  her  name  known  in 
Africa.  The  queen  wrote  a  fine  Latin  epistle  to 
her  "very  dear  cousin  and  friend,"  the  king  of 
Ethiopia,  Consanguineo  nostra  carissimo,  eadem 
gratia  Mihiopum  regi,  etc.  By  way  of  beginning 
"a  regtilar  correspondence  with  him,"  she  wished 
him  every  sort  of  prosperity,  and  recommended 
Akalaktus  to  his  good  will.^  The  parcel  was  sent 
to  the  negro  in  Germany.  Whether  he  received 
it  or  not  is  a  mooted  question.  All  that  history 
teaches  us  on  that  subject  is  that  he  wandered 
in  Germany  for  another  twelvemonth,  departed, 
evidently  disheartened,  and  was  never  heard  of 
more. 

^  A  copy  of  this  letter  still  existed  a  century  ago  in  the  Swedish 
archives. 


I02         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

Sweden,  as  we  have  seen,  was  hurt  by  the 
queen's  marked  preference  for  strangers,  and 
ruined  by  expenses,  the  utiUty  of  which  they 
could  not  see.  There  was  only  left  to  them  to 
take  what  consolation  they  could  in  the  fact  that 
she  was  an  excellent  Greek  scholar  and  that  she 
had  begun  the  study  of  Hebrew.  The  one  hope 
was  that  Christina  would  marry,  for  everyone 
knows  that  matrimony  changes  the  notions  of 
women;  but  this  hope  had  to  be  abandoned. 
Candidates  for  her  hand  had  not  been  wanting; 
they  came  from  the  East  and  West,  from  the 
North  and  South ;  they  were  young  and  old  —  a 
motley  crowd.  She  sent  them  all  about  their 
business,  declaring  that  she  wished  to  remain 
single.  She  would  have  no  master,  and  the 
thought  of  maternity  was  odious  to  her.  Her 
education  had  completely  unsexed  her.  As  her 
ministers  and  the  senate  insisted,  she  offered  to 
abdicate  (October  25,  165 1).  All  implored  her 
to  remain.  She  consented,  but  on  condition  that 
no  one  should  ever  speak  to  her  again  of  marriage. 
Three  months  later,  Bourdelot  entered  upon  the 
scene  and  the  whole  country,  for  very  shame,  hid 
its  face. 


IV 


Bourdelot,  of  whom  Sweden  still  speaks  with 
anger,  was  the  son  of  a  Sens  barber.  He  studied 
to  be  an  apothecary,  started  oif  to  see  the  world, 


Christina  of  Sweden  103 

and  turned  up  in  Italy.  A  certain  shady  business 
forced  him  to  return  post  haste  to  France.  He 
complained  that  he  had  thus  missed  the  scarlet 
robe ;  the  Holy  Father  had  wished  to  appoint  him 
as  his  physician  with  the  dignity  of  cardinal. 
Henceforth,  he  set  up  as  doctor.  His  colleagues 
dubbed  him  an  ignoramus.  It  is  hard  to  say  on 
what  they  based  their  judgment  when  one  remem- 
bers what,  in  those  days,  passed  for  science. 
Bourdelot  could  murder  Latin  with  the  best  of 
them.  With  the  best  of  them,  also,  he  could  dis- 
course on  the  humours  of  the  blood  or  the  move-- 
ments  of  the  bile.  Like  others  of  his  species  he 
could  bleed  or  purge  his  patients.  Of  these  things 
we  can  speak  learnedly,  having  read  one  of  his 
consultations,  in  four  quarto  pages,  all  written  in 
Latin. 

The  brothers  of  the  lancet  could  say  what  they 
would,  Bourdelot  had  great  success.  The  women 
were  for  him.  He  was  the  model  of  doctors  for 
fine  ladies.  He  was  amiable  and  gay,  witty,  and 
the  advocate  of  pleasure.  He  knew  admirable 
secrets  for  preserving  youth,  sang  agreeably, 
played  the  guitar,  and  could  turn  out  exquisite 
little  dishes.  He  had  no  rival  in  the  art  of 
organising  festivities  or  perpetuating  practical 
jokes.  For  the  rest,  a  veritable  Gil  Bias,  quite 
convinced  that  morality  consists  in  making  the 
most  of  one's  opportunities,  and  that  scruples 
are  a  luxury  which  poor  devils  like  himself  could 
ill  afford.     Clever  and  amusing,   playing  pranks 


I04         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

like  a  veritable  monkey,  yielding  when  it  was 
necessary,  insolent  when  he  could  safely  be  so, 
believing  neither  in  God  nor  in  the  devil,  happy 
to  live  and  to  laugh  and  to  lie :  such  was  Bourdelot. 

He  had  been  recommended  to  Christina  by 
Saumaise.  The  queen  had  long  felt  herself  ill. 
Nature  had  avenged  itself  for  the  barbarous  regi- 
men of  dictionaries  and  scribbling,  without  any 
recreation  except  the  Latin  disputes  of  the  Upsal 
professors.  She  was  eaten  up  with  abscesses  and 
undermined  by  fever.  She  could  neither  eat  nor 
sleep ;  she  often  fainted  and  thought  herself  dying. 
Her  ordinary  physicians  could  do  nothing  for  her." 
She  called  in  Bourdelot  who  showed  some  common 
sense.  He  took  her  books  from  her,  ordered  rest 
and  amusement,  and  soothed  her  regrets  by  assur- 
ing her  that,  at  the  court  of  France,  pedants  in 
petticoats  were  turned  into  ridicule. 

Christina  submitted  to  this  treatment  and 
found  that  it  was  a  pleasant  one.  Health  re- 
turned as  by  magic.  She  took  to  amusement, 
first  grudgingly,  then  willingly,  finally  with  frenzy. 
She  sent  her  scholars,  her  ministers,  her  senators 
flying,  threw  her  dictionaries  out  of  the  window, 
and  made  up  for  lost  time.  She  was  twenty -five 
years  of  age  and  had  long  arrears;  but  this  did 
not  trouble  her.  Few  women  have  ever  enjoyed 
themselves  as  did  Christina  of  Sweden.  By  a 
touch  of  the  wand  the  palace  was  transformed. 
From  a  veritable  Sorbonne,  Bourdelot  made  of  it 
a  small  Louvre,  of  the  time  when  the  youthful 


ABBE    BOURDELOT 
After  the  painting  by  N.  de  Largillier 


Christina  of  Sweden  105 

Louis  XIV  amused  himself  in  the  company  of 
Mazarin's  nieces.  Christina  spent  her  days  in 
festivities!  Christina  walked  minuets!  Christina 
disguised  herself  at  masquerades !  Christina  made 
fun  of  scholars!  She  forced  Bochart  to  play  at 
battledore  and  shuttlecock'with  her,  Naude  to  per- 
form in  the  Attic  dances  about  which  he  had  written 
learned  articles,  Meibom  to  sing  the  Greek  airs  he 
had  reconstituted,  and  she  laughed  like  a  mad- 
cap at  the  false  notes  of  the  one,  at  the  awkward- 
ness and  grotesque  contortions  of  the  other.  One 
day,  at  Upsal,  the  professors  prepared  to  discuss 
philosophy  before  her,  according  to  their  wont; 
Christina  rushed  to  her  coach  and  drove  away. 
Did  her  ministers  try  to  lay  public  affairs  before 
her  ?  She  would  not  listen.  Public  affairs  wearied 
her.  If  an  audience  was  requested  she  did  not 
grant  it ;  there  was  a  ballet  to  be  rehearsed.  Was 
she  to  preside  at  the  council  ?  She  ran  away  to  the 
country  and  shut  her  door  against  her  ministers. 
Every  hour  her  passion  for  frivolity  increased, 
and  Bourdelot  did  his  best  to  encourage  her  in 
this  mad  career.  He  constantly  invented  new 
games,  new  festivities,  new  tricks  to  play  on  the 
learned  dons.  He  capped  the  climax  by  admin- 
istering a  powerful  medicine  to  the  queen  the  day 
when  Bochart  was  to  read  fragments  of  his  sacred 
geography. 

Sweden  looked  on  its  sovereign  as  raving  mad. 
Rumour  whispered  that  her  mind  was  giving  way. 
None  of  the  statesmen,   Oxenstiem  least  of  all, 


io6         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

had  expected  this  reaction.  None  had  foreseen 
that,  unless  she  had  become  imbecile  under  the 
strain,  there  would  come  a  moment  when  a  young 
woman,  full  of  life  and  ardour,  would  wish  to 
breathe  and  enjoy  her  youth;  when  she  would 
discover  that  there  were  other  things  in  life 
beside  books,  and  that  the  twentieth  year  has 
been  given  us  to  make  use  of,  as  the  sun  is  made 
to  shine.  They  had  thought  that  things  would 
always  continue  as  they  had  begun;  that,  after 
Hebrew,  she  would  learn  Arabic,  and  after  Arabic, 
the  Ethiopian  language,  and  that  she  would  never 
crave  other  pleasures.  This  natural  and  inevi- 
table result  struck  them  with  as  much  surprise 
as  sorrow.  For  a  whole  month  the  queen  had 
neither  assisted  at  a  council  nor  received  a  sena- 
tor; to  all  serious  discussion  she  answered  with  a 
flippant  remark  about  a  ballet;  since  her  sudden 
departure  from  Upsal  the  university  was  offended 
and  showed  it.  All  this  was  profoundly  sad  and 
still  more  incomprehensible. 

The  amazement  of  all  these  good  people  was 
diverting ;  their  sorrow,  however,  was  well-founded. 
It  is  scarcely  pleasant  for  a  nation  to  fall  under 
the  rule  of  a  Bourdelot,  son  of  a  Sens  barber,  and 
he  was  master  of  all  he  surveyed.  The  queen 
saw  with  his  eyes.  She  told  him  everything. 
Bourdelot  had  become  a  political  power!  He 
disposed  of  Sweden's  alliances  and  was  about  to 
transfer  its  friendship,  for  reasons  best  known 
to    himself,    from    France    to    Spain.     Whoever 


Christina  of  Sweden  107 

opposed  him  was  thrust  aside.  His  triumph  was 
by  no  means  modest.  His  airs  of  conqueror,  Uke 
those  of  a  turkey-cock  ruffling  its  feathers,  exas- 
perated the  country ;  to  this  he  was  quite  indiffer- 
ent. He  felt  himself  secure,  and  so  he  was.  He 
amused  Christina,  and  for  the  moment  she  asked 
for  nothing  else. 

In  the  camp  of  the  learned  consternation  was 
rife.  With  most  of  them,  at  the  bottom  of  their 
regrets,  lurked  selfish  preoccupations.  Great 
sums  of  money  were  lavished  on  feasting  and 
revelry ;  this,  thought  they,  would  greatly  diminish 
their  share  of  the  spoils.  Those  who  were  really 
disinterested  could  not  abide  the  thought  that 
they  were  supplanted  by  a  buffoon.  Bochart 
wrote  to  Vossius  that  he  was  so  unhappy  "since 
the  change"  which  had  taken  place  at  the  cOurt 
of  Sweden,  that  he  was  eager  to  leave,  for  fear  it 
might  kill  him.^  That  excellent  man,  Huet,  was 
still  more  sorrowful,  sixty  years  later ,^  at  the 
remembrance  "of  this  deplorable  desertion  of 
learning."  The  news  flew  rapidly  in  Europe.  It 
was  whispered  that  Christina  had  abandoned  her 
studies  to  give  herself  up  ad  ludicra  et  inania 
under  the  influence  of  a  charlatan ;  ^  that  she 
scoffed  at  philosophy  and  had  adopted  this  hor- 
rible maxim,  "Better  enjoy  things  than  know 
about  them."  ^ 

*  Letter  of  April  26,  1653. 

^  Memoirs.     Huet  lived  to  be  ninety-one  years  of  age. 

3  Letter  from  the  historian  Henri  de  Valois  to  Heinsius  (1653). 

^  Maxims  of  Christina. 


io8  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

At  about  this  time  Benserade  declined  an  invi- 
tation from  the  queen,  either  on  account  of  the 
change  or  for  some  other  reason.  The  letter  she 
sent  by  way  of  reply  is  one  of  her  best,  though 
it  is  not  very  good.  Pen  in  hand,  Christina  was 
apt  to  find  her  wit  heavy  and  confused.  "Thank 
your  stars  which  keep  you  from  visiting  Sweden. 
A  mind  as  delicate  as  yours  would  have  been  ill 
at  ease  and  your  heart  would  have  caught  its 
death  of  cold.  You  would  have  had  great  success 
in  Paris  with  a  square-cut  beard,  a  Lapland  coat, 
and  snowshoes  on  your  return  from  this  land  of 
ice.  I  fancy  that  thus  accoutred,  you  would 
have  made  singular  havoc  among  old  hearts. 
No,  I  swear  that  you  need  regret  nothing.  What 
would  you  have  seen  here  ?  Our  ice  is  like  yours, 
only  it  lasts  six  months  longer.  And  our  summer 
when,  in  its  fury,  it  swoops  upon  us,  causes  our 
flowers,  that  try  to  resemble  jessamine,  to  wither 
in  the  heat.  A  Benserade,  of  noble  and  delicate 
tastes,  can  hope  for  no  greater  happiness  than  to 
live  in  the  most  beautiful  court  in  the  world, 
near  a  prince  whose  virtue  inspires  such  high  and 
cheering  hopes.  .  .  .  Continue  to  imm.ortalise 
yourself  in  adding  to  the  joys  of  this  prince  and 
beware  of  ever  deserving  to  be  exiled  from  him. 
And  yet  I  almost  wish  you  could  be  guilty  of 
some  crime  deserving  such  a  doom,  so  that  Sweden 
might  possess  France's  most  gallant  and  witty 
son.   .   .   ."' 

1  The  end  of  1652. 


Christina  of  Sweden  109 

Meanwhile,  the  anger  of  the  Swedish  court 
grew,  as  grew  the  misery  engendered  by  the  influ- 
ence of  Bourdelot.  Christina  had  no  idea  of 
order,  and  under  her  sway  financial  difficulties 
became  alarming.  The  gallant  inventions  of  her 
favourite  emptied  the  treasury;  the  state  was 
ruined,  its  credit  gone;  the  fleet  was  neglected. 
An  ambassador  came  near  abandoning  his  post 
for  lack  of  money.  Even  in  the  palace  there 
were  debts,  and  the  household  was  carried  on  by 
dint  of  expedients ;  the  servants,  during  two  years, 
had  not  received  their  wages.  In  order  to  obtain 
four  thousand  thalers,  which  she  needed  for  an 
important  journey,  the  queen  was  obliged  to  pawn 
her  travelling  plate.  Everywhere  ruin  was  felt, 
and  in  order  to  collect  the  taxes  the  peasants 
were  persecuted;  but  nothing  could  be  got  out  of 
them ;  they  had  been  robbed  of  their  last  pennies. 
This  comes  of  popular  glory.  However  cruel  was 
their  distress,  the  young  queen's  subjects  suffered 
yet  more  when  they  learned  that,  in  Bourdelot 's 
company,  she  uttered  a  thousand  impieties.  This 
was  too  much.  The  indignation  of  the  nobles 
became  menacing  and  Bourdelot  no  longer  dared 
to  walk  the  streets  unattended.  Christina  under- 
stood that  it  was  time  to  yield. 

Perhaps,  also,  she  had  wearied  of  this  person- 
age. However  that  may  be,  he  left  during  the 
summer  of  1653,  loaded  with  gold  and  recom- 
mended to  Mazarin,  who  thought  it  politic  to 
bestow  an  abbey  on  him.     Bourdelot  played  his 


no         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

new  part  of  abbe,  as  he  had  dubbed  himself  doctor, 
and  he  diverted  Paris  with  the  spectacle  of  his 
dignity.  ' '  Master  Bourdelot, ' '  wrote  Guy  Patin  to 
a  friend,  ''is  carried  about  in  a  sedan  chair,  es- 
corted by  four  great  lackeys.  Until  now  he  had 
been  satisfied  with  three,  sed  e  paucis  diehus 
quartus  accessit.  He  boasts  of  having  performed 
miracles  in  Sweden."  Christina  corresponded 
with  him  imtil  his  death.  He  gave  her  the  news 
of  Paris,  and  she  consulted  him  about  her  health. 

After  his  departure  the  country,  freed  from  a 
shameful  yoke,  began  to  breathe  once  more, 
when  a  new  trouble  fell  upon  it.  The  queen  was 
causing  all  her  furniture,  her  books,  her  art  treas- 
ures to  be  packed.  Before  long  her  intentions 
became  evident.  On  the  nth  of  February,  1654, 
Christina  called  the  senate  together  and  an- 
nounced her  resolution  to  abdicate  in  favour  of 
lier  cousin,  Charles  Augustus.  She  added  that  it 
would  be  useless  this  time  to  combat  her  resolu- 
tion, which  was  unalterable;  that  she  did  not  seek 
for  advice,  but  merely  for  help  to  carry  out  her 
plan. 

"This  speech,"  says  an  old  historian,  "caused 
such  amazement  in  the  assembly  that  no  one 
knew  what  to  answer." 

We  are  accustomed  to  see  the  fate  of  thrones 
at  the  mercy  of  royal  or  popular  caprice.  We 
are  astonished  neither  by  revolutions  nor  abdi- 
cations, and  this  speech  might  to-day  pass  for  a 
clever   witticism.     During   the   seventeenth   cen- 


Christina  of  Sweden  iii 

tury,  the  monarchical  spirit  had  not  yet  been 
weakened  and  the  case  was  a  very  serious  one. 
It  seemed  as  though  a  sovereign  and  his  people 
were  bound  together  by  mutual  duty ;  that  neither 
one  nor  the  other  had  the  right  of  desertion. 
There  existed  between  them  a  contract  sanc- 
tioned by  God,  since  God  has  chosen  and  fashioned 
the  prince  given  to  the  people.  Charles  V  had 
abdicated,  and  his  case  has  been  likened  to  that 
of  Christina;  but  the  example  is  ill-chosen, 
Charles  V  was  old  and  infirm.  He  retired  to  a 
convent.  Even  so,  it  is  not  sure  that  he  had 
a  right  to  do  this;  it  was  said  that  he  often  re- 
gretted his  act.  Christina  was  young  and  strong. 
She  had  no  thought  of  retreat,  and  she  boasted 
loudly  of  an  act  which  called  rather  for  humility. 
Under  such  circumstances  the  forsaking  of  her 
post  was  a  public  calamity. 

She  had  an  inkling  of  this  and  expected  to  be 
blamed.  A  few  days  after  the  dramatic  scene 
of  February  nth  she  wrote,  "I  know  that  the 
play  in  which  I  acted  was  not  prepared  according 
to  the  ordinary  rules  of  the  stage.  It  is  rare 
that  what  is  really  strong  and  powerful  pleases."  ^ 
She  also  said,  "I  care  nothing  for  the  plaudite." 
This  is  not  true.  She  abdicated  partly  to  be 
applauded  by  the  pit.  She  had  three  other 
motives;  she  was  penniless,  her  queenship  bored 
her,  Sweden  and  the  Swedes  bored  her  still  more. 

^  Letter  of  February  28,  1654,  to  Chanut,  ex-ambassador  from 
France  to  Stockholm 


112  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

The  opinion  of  the  pit  finds  expression  in  these 
two  fragments:  "What  times  are  ours,  great 
Heaven!"  wrote  Vossius  to  his  countryman  Hein- 
sius.  "Queens  lay  aside  their  sceptres  in  order 
to  live  like  private  ladies,  to  devote  themselves 
to  their  own  pleasures  and  to  the  worship  of  the 
muses."  In  the  Memoirs  of  Montglat,  on  tt^ 
other  hand,  we  read,  "An  extraordinary  event 
took  place  in  Europe  this  year,  the  abdication  of 
the  queen  of  Sweden.  This  princess  was  of  a 
capricious  temper,  and  had  taken  to  poetry  and 
novels;  ...  in  order  to  live  a  romance  on  her 
own  account,  she  resolved  to  give  up  the  crown." 

In  Sweden  the  feeling  was  that  of  an  excellent 
nation  incapable  of  forgetting  that  Christina  was 
the  daughter  of  Gustavus  Adolphus.  She  was 
entreated  to  remain  and,  at  the  ceremony  of  her 
abdication,  her  subjects  wept.  Her  demands  for 
money,  which  were  by  no  means  moderate,  were 
generously  granted.  She  was  to  receive  the 
revenue  of  vast  domains  and  of  several  towns, 
amounting'  to  something  like  five  hundred  thou- 
sand francs,  A  fleet  was  armed  to  take  her 
where  she  chose.  Then,  having  performed  its 
duty,  the  affection  of  the  nation  began  to  cool 
towards  the  ungrateful  one.  She  continued  to 
give  orders  and  was  reminded  that  she  was  no 
longer  queen.  She  showed  indecent  joy  at  leav- 
ing Sweden:  the  people  murmured,  deeming  that 
she  ought  to  spend  her  revenues  in  her  own  coun- 
try.    Christina,  hearing  these  things,  grew  furious. 


Christina  of  Sweden  113 

Her  people  had  prepared  for  her  the  voyage  of 
a  sovereign;  she  ran  away  Hke  an  adventuress. 

In  advance,  she  had  sent  her  collections,  and 
with  them  her  gold  and  silver  plate,  the  furniture, 
and  the  crown  jewels.  It  is  said  that  her  suc- 
cessor found  nothing  in  the  palace  but  two  car- 
pets and  an  old  bed.  When  she  was  at  a  certain 
distance  from  Stockholm  she  sent  back  her 
retinue,  cut  her  hair,  adopted  men's  clothes,  high 
boots,  took  a  gun  and  announced  her  intention 
of  fighting  in  Flanders  under  the  orders  of  Conde. 
Sometimes  she  disappeared ;  then  again  her  pres- 
ence here  or  there  was  revealed  by  some  escapade. 
At  the  frontiers  of  Norway  she  jumped  over  the 
line  with  a  hurrah!  so  glad  was  she  to  be  out  of 
Sweden.  A  little  farther  she  met,  without  know- 
ing it,  the  queen  of  Denmark,  who,  disguised  as 
a  servant,  was  watching  for  her  at  an  inn.  When 
royal  ladies,  in  those  days,  threw  off  etiquette, 
they  did  not  adopt  half  measures.  It  was  dis- 
covered that  while  the  fleet  was  awaiting  her  in 
one  port,  Christina  had  sailed  from  another.  Her 
intention  was  to  go  and  exhibit  herself  to  Europe, 
sure  of  being  received  with  the  plaudits  which, 
according  to  her  estimation  of  herself,  she  deserved. 

V 

She  landed  in  Denmark,  took  a  fancy  name, 
jumped  on  a  horse  after  a  manly  fashion,  and 
galloped  to  Hamburg,  accompanied  by  four  gentle- 


114  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

men  in  waiting  and  a  few  valets,  who  performed 
the  office  of  maids.  Montglat  reported,  "She 
travels  like  a  vagabond,  from  province  to  province, 
visiting  all  the  courts  of  Europe."  She  made 
one  think  of  a  travelling  circus.  Every  now  and 
again  she  gave  a  representation.  For  thCvSe  occa- 
sions she  improvised  a  royal  retinue,  gathered 
together  no  one  knew  how,  put  on  gorgeous  attire, 
and  made  a  solemn  entry  into  a  city,  where,  with 
a  haughtiness  that  delighted  the  populations,  she 
received  the  honours  due  to  her  rank.  Crowds 
hastened  to  meet  her,  for  she  was  one  of  the  great 
curiosities  of  Christendom.  She  answered  the 
official  harangues  with  perfect  ease  and  grace, 
each  in  its  own  tongue,  presided  over  feasts  given 
in  her  honour,  like  a  great  sovereign,  and  dis- 
coursed with  learned  men  as  with  colleagues. 
"She  speaks  of  all  things  under  the  sun,"  said 
one  of  her  hearers,  "not  like  a  princess,  but  like 
a  philosopher  e  Porticu. ' '  ^ 

She  enlivened  the  solemn  ceremonies  by  comic 
interludes  of  her  own  invention.  Sometimes  she 
would  "make  faces  at  the  crowds  that  followed 
her."^  Or,  with  the  suppleness  of  a  clown  she 
would  change  her  dress  in  the  coach,  so  as  to 
bewilder  the  lookers-on;  they  did  not  know  what 
to  make  of  it.     At  times,  in  the  midst  of  a  grave 


'  Letter  of  Whitelock,  ambassador  jfrom  Cromwell  to  the  court 
of  Sweden. 

^  Collection  of  the  State  papers  of  John  Thurloe,  Secretary  of 
Council  of  State,  etc.,  vol.  vii,  London,  1742. 


Christina  of  Sweden  115 

address,  she  would  let  fly  some  tremendous  oath 
or  some  ill-sounding  joke,  worthy  of  a  young 
woman  who  at  twenty-three  had  known  Martial 
by  heart.  At  times  she  would  take  a  fish -mon- 
ger's attitude  and  burst  out  laughing  in  the  face 
of  some  great  personage  who  was  addressing  her. 
In  Brussels  she  tarried  several  months,  and  led 
such  a  life  that  the  "all-powerful  hand"  which, 
according  to  her,  kept  her  from  falling  over  preci- 
pices, down  which  she  liked  to  peep,  was  kept 
very  busy.  Many  of  her  contemporaries,  in 
Brussels  at  least,  were  convinced  that  the  Almighty, 
having  doubtless  too  much  to  do  elsewhere,  had 
not  always  prevented  the  catastrophe.  However 
that  may  be,  whenever  she  recovered  her  senses, 
she,  by  the  same  occasion,  recovered  her  grand 
royal  air.  The  pit  laughed.  From  the  boxes 
came  some  hisses. 

The  performance  ended,  the  curtain  down,  the 
costumes  packed,  the  improvised  retinue  dis- 
missed, there  remained  a  young  female  knight- 
errant  who  dropped  jewels  at  the  pawnbroker's, 
went  from  inn  to  inn,  and  took  pleasure  in  dis- 
appointing sightseers.  She  was  expected  in  one 
place  and  appeared  in  another.  She  seemed  on 
the  point  of  being  caught,  and  vanished  in  the 
night.  She  came,  went,  returned,  until  fancy 
prompted  her  to  don  petticoats  once  more,  to 
play  the  part  of  the  Swedish  queen,  and  to  give 
another  representation. 

She  gave  several  at  Hamburg,  at  Brussels,  at 


ii6  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

Antwerp,  at  Inspruck,  where  she  added  to  the 
bill  the  attraction  of  her  conversion.  She  had 
already  secretly  changed  her  religion  in  Brussels, 
on  the  night  of  Christmas,  1654.  But  at  In- 
spruck she  made  a  public  profession  of  Catholic 
faith  (November  3,  1655). 

There  have  been  many  discussions,  some  of 
them  very  bitter,  as  to  the  motives  of  her  conver- 
sion. The  event  was  one  of  great  importance  to 
Rome.  Of  all  possible  neophytes,  the  daughter 
of  Gustavus  Adolphus  was  the  most  precious. 
It  is  natural  that  the  church  should  have  under- 
taken the  conversion  of  Christina  with  even  more 
than  its  usual  cleverness.  It  is  equally  natural 
that,  having  succeeded,  it  should  have  attributed 
its  triumph  to  the  power  of  truth  and  presented 
the  abjuration  of  Inspruck  as  an  effect  of  divine 
grace,  which  had  revealed  the  true  faith  to  a 
heretic.  It  is  also  natural  that,  after  a  victory, 
the  echo  of  which  sounded  all  through  Europe, 
filling  the  hearts  of  the  faithful  with  joy,  the 
papacy  should  have  thrown  Noah's  cloak  over 
the  failings  of  its  convert  and  feigned  belief  in 
her  sincerity.  It  could  trust  to  the  work  of  time, 
to  habit,  to  a  hundred  circumstances  which  might 
come  to  pass,  to  complete  the  work  only  half 
accomplished.  In  very  truth,  the  queen's  lan- 
guage with  regard  to  the  church  and  its  glory 
was  somewhat  hyperbolicah*  What  Christina 
really   thought    on    the    matter    was    of    minor 

1  Especially  in  the  Maxims. 


Christina  of  Sweden  117 

importance,  and  doubtless  the  Pope  was  of  that 
opinion. 

Of  course,  Protestants,  greatly  incensed,  rather 
than  admit  the  sincerity  of  this  -conversion, 
accused  the  queen  of  hypocrisy.  They  pro- 
claimed that,  very  far  from  having  been  from 
her  early  years  attracted  to  Rome  and  having 
abdicated  in  order  to  follow  the  promptings  of 
grace,  which  was  the  Catholic  version  of  the  story, 
she  believed  in  nothing  at  all,  and  had  abjured 
Protestantism  out  of  self-interest.  According  to 
them,  the  pompous  ceremony  of  Inspruck  was 
merely  intended  to  touch  the  Pope  and  the  Catholic 
sovereigns,  from  whom  the  queen  of  Sweden 
could  then,  in  the  hour  of  need,  turn  for  help. 

In  our  day,  judging  the  case  from  a  dispassion- 
ate point  of  view,  one  is  tempted  to  agree  with 
the  Protestants.  Christina  changed  her  religion 
as  she  changed  her  clothes,  to  astonish  the  crowd. 
After  the  secret  conversion  of  Brussels,  she  wrote 
to  a  friend  in  Sweden,  where  some  inkling  of  the 
truth  had  penetrated :  ' '  My  occupations  are  to  eat 
well,  sleep  well,  study  a  little,  talk,  laugh,  see  French, 
Italian,  and  Spanish  plays  and  thus  to  pass  my  time 
agreeably.  /  no  longer  listen  to  sermons.'' '  Elsewhere, 
she  declares  that  her  conversion  was  due  to  the 
fact  that  Protestant  serm.ons  wearied  her  to  death. 
Sermons  were  her  great  objection  to  the  reformed 
religion.  At  Inspruck,  her  indifference  during  the 
ceremony  of  abjuration  was  much  commented 
upon.    The  same  day,  in  the  afternoon,  a  play  was 


ii8  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

given  in  her  honour;  it  is  said  that  she  exclaimed, 
"Gentlemen,  it  is  but  fair  that  you  should  offer 
me  a  comedy,  since  I  gave  you  a  farce.  "  No  doubt 
the  Pope  knew  the  value  of  this  conversion  from  a 
spiritual  point  of  view,  but  he  was  content,  for 
the  time  being,  to  look  upon  it  as  a  worldly  triumph. 
From  Inspruck,  Christina  went  to  Rome,  where 
a  triumphant  reception  awaited  her. 

It  was  necessary  to  show  the  world  how  impor- 
tant, politically  and  religiously,  was  this  conver- 
sion. The  congregation  of  ceremonies  ordered 
every  detail  of  the  entry,  deciding  that  the  cardi- 
nals, prelates,  ambassadors,  and  nobles  should 
go  to  meet  the  queen  of  Sweden  in  gilt  coaches, 
drawn  by  six  horses  and  accompanied  by  numer- 
ous retinues,  richly  liveried ;  that  the  coach  of  the 
governor  of  Rome  should  be  lined  with  gold  and 
silver  at  the  cost  of  three  thousand  crowns  and 
surrounded  by  forty  persons  magnificently  clothed ; 
that  each  noble  Roman  lady  should  have  a  suite 
of  thirty-six  attendants  whose  costumes  were  to 
cost  from  five  hundred  to  six  hundred  crowns 
each.  The  Holy  Father  on  this  occasion  spent 
one  million  three  hundred  thousand  crowns. 
When  the  queen  arrived,  the  Roman  tailors  had 
been  working  for  six  months  in  view  of  the  pro- 
cession. 

On  the  2ist  of  December,  1655,  Christina  was 
more  firmly  than  ever  persuaded  that  she  was 
the  most  important  personage  of  Christendom 
£i,nd  a  marvel  among  women.     Cannon  thundered, 


Christina  of  Sweden  119 

trumpets  sounded,  troops  were  drawn  up  on  either 
side  of  the  road,  the  shops  were  closed,  Rome  was 
enjoying  a  hohday,  and  the  air  was  rent  with 
acclamations.  A  procession  of  unequalled  mag- 
nificence extended  from  the  Porta  del  Popolo  to 
the  Vatican,  and  at  the  head  of  this  procession, 
the  admired  of  all  admirers,  the  object  of  all 
these  adulations,  was  a  misshapen  little  creature 
wearing  ' '  many  coloured  breeches ' '  striding  a  white 
horse  and  prancing  between  two  cardinals.  In 
this  guise  she  reached  the  Vatican,  where  the 
high  clergy  was  ready  to  receive  her  and  lead  her 
to  the  Pope.  She  thanked  his  Holiness.  "He 
answered  that  her  conversion  was  of  so  high  a 
value  that  the  rejoicings  in  Heaven  put  to  blush 
those  that  took  place  on  earth."  The  compli- 
ment was  gracious,  fit  to  turn  even  the  most 
humble  head,  and  Christina  certainly  was  not 
humble. 

Henceforth,  Rome  became  her  favourite  resi- 
dence. Here  she  gathered  together  her  collec- 
tions, remained  for  longer  periods  as  time  went 
on,  and  finally,  still  protected  by  the  Popes,  never 
left  the  city.  She  greatly  tried  the  patience  of 
the  successive  Popes;  all  determined  to  make  the 
most  of  Gustavus  Adolphus's  converted  daugh- 
ter. Her  attitude,  however,  was  deplorable.  The 
Pope  thought  it  prudent  to  surround  her  with 
cardinals.  She  was  by  no  means  in  awe  of  them, 
and  carried  them  off  in  the  whirl  of  her  existence. 
There  was  no  noisy  affair  in  Rome,  no  scandal, 


I20         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

where  one  did  not  recognise  Queen  Christina  sur- 
rounded by  her  admiring  cardinals;  at  mass  and 
out  walking,  she  was  to  be  seen  with  her  red 
court.  Mad  pranks  succeeded  each  other.  She 
was  insolent  with  the  Roman  nobility,  greedy  of 
honours;  she  quarrelled  first  with  one,  then  with 
another,  ignoring  the  fact  that  she  was  no  longer 
a  reigning  sovereign.  Once,  Cardinal  Medici  hav- 
ing displeased  her,  she  with  her  own  hand  bom- 
barded his  palace;  the  trace  of  the  cannon  balls 
was  still  visible  a  century  ago.  "Patience,"  ac- 
cording to  her,  "is  the  virtue  of  those  who  are 
lacking  in  courage  and  vigour."  She  prided  her- 
self on  not  being  patient. 

The  Vatican  had  no  great  reason  to  be  proud 
of  its  convert.  She  loudly  proclaimed  her  aver- 
sion for  pious  conversations  and  books  of  piet}^. 
The  first  person  who  spoke  to  her  of  penance  and 
mortifications  was  received  after  a  fashion  which 
took  away  all  wish  to  revert  to  such  subjects. 
She  rarely  took  part  in  church  ceremonies  and 
when  she  did  she  laughed  and  joked  with  her 
attendant  cardinals,  even  in  the  presence  of  the 
Pope.  This  could  not  be  tolerated.  After  a 
scene  of  this  kind,  the  Pope  handed  her  a  rosary, 
advising  her  to  make  use  of  it.  Scarcely  out  of 
his  presence,  she  exclaimed,  "He  can't  turn  me 
into  a  hypocrite ! ' '  Then  the  Holy  Father  was  re- 
duced to  ask  for  a  little  ostensible  piety,  for  the 
edification  of  the  crowd.  He  sent  word  to  Chris- 
tina   that,    "One    Ave    Maria    recited    in    public 


Christina  of  Sweden  121 

would  be  more  acceptable  than  a  whole  rosary 
said  in  private."  She  obeyed  only  when  her 
purse  was  empty. 

Christina's  finances  were  a  subject  of  great  dis- 
quiet to  the  court  of  Rome.  Sweden,  indignant 
at  the  change  of  religion,  half  ruined  by  wars  and 
troubles  at  home,  was  but  a  poor  paymaster. 
Christina  spent  recklessly,  under  the  pretext  that 
"there  is  an  economical  way  of  being  extrava- 
gant." She  kept  up  a  royal  household.  She 
completed  her  collections,  which  at  her  departure 
from  Sweden  had  been  somewhat  despoiled  by 
her  foreign  scholars.  Her  library  had  been 
shamelessly  pillaged ;  out  of  eight  thousand  manu- 
scripts only  a  quarter  reached  Rome.  There 
exists  a  letter  in  which  Vossius  acknowledges  to 
Heinsius,  with  admirable  calm,  that  he  was  appro- 
priating for  his  own  use  non  paucus  lihellos  rariores 
belonging  to  the  serenissimce  regina.  Large  sums 
were  necessary  to  fill  the  voids.  Still  larger  sums 
were  spent  from  a  lack  of  order  of  which  nothing 
can  give  an  idea.  Six  months  after  her  arrival 
in  Rome,  Christina  was  dunned  by  her  creditors. 
She  applied  to  the  Pope  who,  with  the  idea  of 
reducing  her  to  submission,  offered  two  thousand 
crowns  a  month  if  she  would  behave  herself.  This 
was  too  much.  The  queen,  in  a  towering  rage,  sent 
her  remaining  jewels  to  the  pawnbroker,  got  ten 
thousand  ducats  for  them,' and  sailed  for  Marseilles. 
She  knew  that  France  was  full  of  curiosity  about 
her,  eager  to  see  a  singular  person,  who  had  been 


122         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

dubbed  the  Sibyl  of  the  North  and  the  tenth 
muse,  and  who  now  was  known  as  the  "strolHng 
queen."  This  journey  to  France  was  to  be  Chris- 
tina's last  triumph. 

VI 

Mazarin  ordered  that  she  should  be  royally 
received.  The  magistrates  of  the  different  cities 
presented  the  keys  to  her;  prelates  and  governors 
delivered  fine  speeches  to  her;  the  towns  treated 
her  with  great  magnificence,  and  their  inhabitants 
rushed  to  see  the  spectacle  and  marvelled  that  a 
queen  should  travel  like  an  indigent  student.  At 
Lyons  she  met  the  Duke  of  Guise,  sent  by  the 
king  to  conduct  her  to  Compiegne,  where  the 
court  was  sojourning.  The  duke  wrote  to  a 
friend:  "While  I  am  spending  my  time  somewhat 
lugubriously,  I  must  seek  to  divert  you  by  por- 
traying the  queen  whom  I  have  been  ordered  to 
accompany.  She  is  not  tall,  but  somewhat  stout, 
with  broad  hips,  a  well-shaped  arm,  a  white  and 
pretty  hand;  she  is  a  man  rather  than  a  woman. 
One  shoulder  is  higher  than  the  other,  but 
she  hides  that  defect  so  cleverly  by  the  strange- 
ness of  her  attire,  of  her  walk  and  manners, 
that  one  could  wager  for  or  against  this  de- 
formity." 

Guise  describes  the  queen's  well-known  face, 
with  its  aquiline  nose  and  fine  eyes,  her  "very 
strange  wig,"  like  that  of  a  man  in  front  and  at 


Christina  of  Sweden  123 

the  back  like  that  of  a  woman.  He  continues 
thus:  "Her  bodice,  laced  behind,  is  not  straight, 
and  is  made  after  the  fashion  of  our  doublets; 
her  chemise  shows  above  the  skirt  which  is  ill- 
fastened  and  awry.  She  is  much  powdered  and 
pomatumed,  and  rarely  wears  gloves.  She  has 
men's  boots,  and  in  point  of  fact  has  almost  a 
man's  voice  and  quite  a  man's  ways.  Her  pre- 
tension is  to  be  an  Amazon.  She  is  quite  as 
proud  and  haughty  as  could  ever  have  been  the 
great  Gustavus,  her  father.  Yet  she  can  be  very 
polite,  even  caressing  in  her  manner.  She  speaks 
eight  languages,  especially  ours;  she  has  no  more 
accent  than  if  she  had  been  born  in  Paris.  She  is 
as  learned  as  our  academy  and  our  sorbonne  put 
together.  Indeed,  she  is  a  very  extraordinary 
person.  .  .  .  She  sometimes  carries  a  sword  and 
wears  a  buff  collar." 

Christina  could  indeed  be  "very  polite"  when 
she  chose,  but  the  effort  was  too  great  to  last. 
Her  urbanity  was  exhausted  before  she  reached 
Compiegne.  The  grande  mademoiselle  met  her 
on  the  road  and  was  quite  fascinated  by  her 
flatteries  and  high  air.  They  went  to  the  play 
together  and  the  grande  mademoiselle  opened 
her  eyes  very  wide.  "The  queen  swore  like  a 
trooper,"  writes  she,  "threw  her  legs  about,  put- 
ting first  one,  then  the  other  over  the  arms  of  her 
chair ;  she  took  attitudes  such  as  I  have  only  seen 
in  the  case  of  Trivelin  and  Jodelet,  who  are  two 
buffoons.  .  .  .  She  repeated  the  verses  that  took 


124  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

her  fancy ;  she  conversed  on  many  topics,  and  that 
quite  agreeably.  She  would  indulge  in  deep  rever- 
ies, sigh  audibly,  then,  all  of  a  sudden,  come  to 
her  senses,  as  though  she  had  awakened  from  a 
dream:  she  is  quite  extraordinary." 

Christina  confided  to  Mademoiselle  de  Mont- 
pensier  that  she  was  wild  to  see  a  battle,  that 
"she  could  have  no  peace  of  mind  until  she  had 
seen  one."  This  was  one  of  her  hobbies.  She 
was  jealous  of  Conde's  laurels,  and  dreamed  of 
being  a  great  general. 

On  September  the  8th,  1656,  she  entered  Paris 
by  the  Faubourg  Saint  Antoine,  escorted  by  five 
thousand  horsemen.  She  wore  a  scarlet  doublet, 
a  woman's  skirt,  a  plumed  hat,  and  rode  astride 
a  big  white  horse;  pistols  were  at  the  holster,  and 
she  carried  a  cane.  All  Paris  turned  out  to  see 
her,  and  the  people  pressed  forward  "furiously;" 
as  they  continued  to  do  whenever  she  went  out 
in  Paris.  She  was  taken  to  receive  holy  com- 
munion at  Notre  Dame,  and  all  through  mass 
she  talked,  never  a  moment  remaining  quiet. 
She  visited  the  monuments  and  libraries,  received 
the  learned  men  of  the  day,  and  caused  them  to 
admire  her  knowledge  of  all  French  matters.  She 
knew  about  the  great  families  and  their  heraldry, 
also  about  the  intrigues  and  gallant  doings  of  the 
court,  the  tastes,  the  occupations,  the  achieve- 
ments of  each  and  all.  At  last  she  started  to 
join  the  king  at  Compifegne.  Anne  of  Austria 
went  to  meet  her.     Mademoiselle  de  Motteville, 


Christina  of  Sweden  125 

who  accompanied  the  queen  mother,  has  given  a 
description  of  the  meeting. 

Christina  left  her  carriage  in  the  midst  of  such 
a  crowd  that  the  two  queens  were  obhged  to  take 
refuge  in  a  house,  to  which  Louis  XIV  escorted 
his  guest,  taking  her  by  the  hand.  Mademoiselle 
de  Motteville  followed,  unable  to  see  anything  but 
the  strange  creature  thus  led  by  the  king  of 
France.  "Her wig  that  day,"  wrote  she,  "was  all 
uncurled;  the  wind,  as  she  stepped  from  the  car- 
riage, blew  it  awry;  the  little  care  she  took  of  her 
complexion,  which  was  anything  but  white,  made 
her  look  like  a  wild  and  bold  gipsy  that  by  chance 
was  not  too  black.  As  I  examined  this  princess, 
all  that  I  saw  seemed  to  me  extraordinary,  more 
likely  to  terrify  than  to  please."  Mademoiselle 
de  Motteville  paints  the  strange  gear  of  the  Swed- 
ish queen  with  her  clothes  on  one  side,  her  big 
shoulder  "humped  up,"  her  short  skirt  showing 
her  men's  boots,  and  she  adds:  "After  having 
studied  her  with  an  attention  which  sprang  from 
curiosity,  I  began  to  grow  accustomed  to  her 
dress,  her  hair,  and  her  face.  .  .  .  Then,  to  my 
amazement,  I  discovered  that  she  pleased  me, 
and  in  a  moment  I  was  quite  changed  with  regard 
to  her.  She  seemed  to  me  less  tall  than  I  had 
expected,  and  less  ill-made;  but  the  hands,  sup- 
posed to  be  beautiful,  were  too  dirty  to  appear  so." 

This  is  a  striking  instance  of  the  real  fascination 
exerted  by  this  strange  being.  When  she  chose 
to  please,  she  pleased  indeed,  despite  her  ridicu- 


126  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

lous  costumes,  her  masculine  ways,  and  her  dirt. 
But  this  fascination  did  not  last.  The  feelings 
she  inspired  were  as  fleeting  as  her  own  moods. 
At  Compiegne,  during  the  first  quarter  of  an 
hour,  she  terrified  all  who  saw  her;  during  the 
second,  she  interested  and  amused  them.  She 
was  witty  and  gracious:  she  provoked  admira- 
tion. Before  the  evening  was  over,  she  was  feared 
for  her  impertinence.  She  borrowed  the  king's 
valets  to  undress  her  and  to  assist  her  ' '  in  moments 
of  the  greatest  intimacy,"  and  this  seemed  very 
shocking.  The  next  day,  she  appeared  clean  and 
curled,  bright  and  gay;  she  pleased  once  more 
She  greatly  diverted  the  young  king,  and  all 
would  have  gone  merrily  had  she  not  been  taken 
with  one  of  her  sudden  fits  of  impious  swearing 
and  of  kicking  up  her  heels  in  her  anger.  This 
very  much  astonished  the  polite  court,  which 
finally  decided  that  the  queen  of  Sweden  must 
be  looked  upon  as  one  of  those  heroines  of  chival- 
rous romance  in  the  days  of  adverse  fortune,  when 
Marfise  and  Bradamante,  in  a  pitiable  plight,  can 
only  eat  when  by  chance  they  are  invited  to  a 
royal  table.  The  starved  fashion  in  which  Chris- 
tina fell  upon  the  collation  offered  at  her  arrival, 
added  to  the  deplorable  state  of  her  wardrobe, 
authorised  these  comparisons.  Yet,  she  had  her 
partisans  as  well  as  her  detractors.  Christina 
spoiled  all  her  chances  of  Success  by  a  stupid 
blunder.  Being  naturally  indiscreet,  she  meddled 
with  the  king's  private  affairs.     He  was  then  in 


Christina  of  Sweden  127 

love  with  Marie  Mancini,  and  this  romance  greatly 
displeased  the  queen  mother.  Christina  advised 
Louis  XIV  to  follow  his  inclinations,  and  to  marry 
the  girl  he  loved.  Anne  of  Austria  hastened  to 
send  away  the  queen  of  Sweden,  who  by  no 
means  wished  to  go. 

She  was  forced  to  yield.  Christina  then  went 
to  see  Ninon  de  I'Enclos  and  overwhelmed  her 
with  compliments.  She  seemed  to  appreciate  this 
person  more  than  any  woman,  no  doubt  because 
Ninon's  career  had  proved  that  she  was  above 
mere  prejudice.  Christina  wanted  to  present  her 
to  the  Pope.  Luckily,  Ninon  knew  the  world  too 
well  to  let  herself  be  tempted. 

The  queen  once  more  started  for  Italy.  She 
spent  a  night  at  Montargis  and  the  grande  made- 
moiselle took  it  into  her  head  to  see  her  again, 
arriving  at  ten  o'clock.  ' '  I  was  requested, ' '  relates 
Mademoiselle  de  Montpensier,  "to  go  up  alone. 
I  found  her  in  a  bed  where  my  women  slept  every 
time  I  went  to  Montargis,  a  tallow  candle  stood 
on  the  table ;  a  towel  was  twisted  about  her  head 
by  way  of  a  nightcap  and  that  head  was  bald; 
she  had  recently  been  shaved;  a  nightgown,  with- 
out a  collar,  was  closed  by  a  great  knot  of  flame- 
coloured  ribbon ;  her  sheets  only  came  up  half  way 
on  the  bed,  over  which  was  thrown  an  ugly  green 
coverlet.  In  this  state  she  was  not  pretty."  The 
following  day  the  grande  mademoiselle  put  Chris- 
tina in  her  travelling  coach,  which  was  hired  and 
paid  for  by  Louis  XIV. 


128  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

She  found  the  plague  in  Rome,  spent  a  few 
months  in  the  north  of  Italy,  then  returned  to 
France,  where  her  presence  was  by  no  means 
desired.  Public  curiosity  had  been  satisfied.  It 
was  rumoured  that  the  Pope  had  entrusted  her 
with  a  mission  to  bring  about  a  peace  with  Spain, 
and  Mazarin  wished  for  no  advisers.  In  October, 
1657,  she  arrived  in  Fontainebleau,  during  the 
absence  of  the  court,  and  lodged  in  the  palace." 
She  was  requested  to  go  no  farther  until  she 
received  permission.  Then  took  place  a  mysteri- 
ous event,  which,  without  the  slightest  prepara- 
tion changed  the  comedy  into  a  tragedy.  Quite 
another  woman,  unexpectedly,  is  here  revealed. 
The  joyous  queen  of  Sweden,  the  madcap  prodigal, 
the  veriest  royal  Bohemian,  becomes,  one  fatal 
day,  bloody  Christina,  pitiless  and  ferocious.  A 
dark  stain  sullies  this  picturesque  figure,  at  which, 
till  then,  one  merely  smiled.  We  can  here  take 
leave  of  the  old-time  Christina.  We  shall  see  her 
no  more. 

VII 

The  queen  of  Sweden  had  brought  with  her  to 
Fontainebleau  two  young  Italian  noblemen,  the 
Marquess  Monaldeschi,  grand  equerry,  and  the 
Count  Sentinelli,  captain  of  the  guard ;  the  favour- 
ite of  yesterday  and  the  favourite  of  to-day. 
Monaldeschi  was  stupidly  jealous  of  his  successor. 
He  wrote  letters  in  which  the  queen  was  grossly 


Christina  of  Sweden  129 

insulted,  and  rendered  his  offence  unpardonable 
by  imitating  Sentinelli's  writing.  This,  at  least, 
is  what  transpired  from  the  little  that  is  known 
of  the  mystery;  it  was  never  really  cleared,  for 
the  queen's  only  confident  was  her  valet,  Pois- 
sonnet,  Poissonnet  the  impenetrable.  At  any 
rate,  this  at  least  is  known.  On  the  morning  of 
November  6,  1657,  at  a  quarter  past  nine,  a 
monk  of  Fontainebleau,  Father  Le  Bel,  prior  of 
the  Trinitaires,  was  sent  for  by  the  queen.  She 
imposed  secrecy  upon  him  and  gave  him  a  sealed 
parcel,  which  he  was  to  return  to  her  whenever 
she  called  for  it. 

On  the  following  Saturday  afternoon,  Novem- 
ber loth,  at  one  o'clock,  the  queen  again  sent  for 
him.  Father  Le  Bel  took  the  sealed  parcel,  think- 
ing that  it  might  be  needed,  and  was  introduced 
into  the  "galerie  des  cerfs,"  where  he  found  the 
queen.  She  was  standing  talking  on  indifferent 
matters  with  Monaldeschi.  Near  them  was  Senti- 
nelli,  and  a  little  farther  two  Italian  soldiers. 
Father  Le  Bel,  in  the  "  Narration  "  he  left  of  this 
tragedy,  confesses  with  simplicity  that  as  soon 
as  he  entered  he  began  to  be  much  afraid,  for  the 
valet  who  introduced  him  banged  the  door  when 
he  left  the  gallery.  The  monk,  however,  ap- 
proached the  queen ;  her  manner  instantly  changed, 
and  in  a  loud  voice  she  claimed  the  parcel.  She 
opened  it,  took  out  some  papers  which  she  showed 
to  Monaldeschi,  asking  him  with  great  violence 
whether  he  recognised  them.     Monaldeschi  grew 


130  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

pale,  tried  to  disclaim  all  knowledge  of  them, 
finally  confessed  that  he  had  written  these  letters, 
fell  at  the  feet  of  his  mistress,  and  implored  his 
pardon.  At  the  same  moment,  Sentinelli  and  the 
two  soldiers  drew  their  swords. 

The  scene  which  ensued  was  frightful.  It  lasted 
two  hours  and  a  half.  We  owe  all  the  details 
to  Father  Le  Bel,  who,  by  a  not  unfrequent  phe- 
nomenon, remembered  them  all,  in  spite  of  the 
horror  with  which  he  was  filled. 

When  he  saw  the  weapons,  Monaldeschi  rose 
from  his  knees  and  ran  after  the  queen  as  she 
crossed  the  gallery,  speaking  "without  stopping," 
trying  to  justify  himself,  "greatly  importuning 
her."  But  Christina  showed  neither  anger  nor 
impatience.  Father  Le  Bel  noticed  that  as  she 
walked  she  used  "an  ebony  cane  with  a  rounded 
top."  She  listened  to  the  supplications  for  a 
little  more  than  an  hour,  then,  going  to  the  monk, 
she  said  gently  to  him,  ' '  Father,  I  leave  this  man 
in  your  hands,  prepare  him  for  death;  minister 
to  his  soul."  The  monk,  "as  terrified  as  though 
the  sentence  had  been  pronounced  against  my- 
self," threw  himself  at  her  feet  and  implored  the 
pardon  of  the  poor  wretch  who  grovelled  at  her 
side.  She  coldly  refused,  went  to  her  own  apart- 
ments, where  she  talked  and  laughed,  quietly  and 
peaceably. 

Monaldeschi  could  not  believe  that  all  was  over. 
He  dragged  himself  on  his  knees,  crying  and  im- 
ploring his  executioners.     Sentinelli  was   moved 


Christina  of  Sweden  131 

to  pity.  He  left  the  gallery  but  came  back  very 
sad,  saying  with  tears,  "Marquess,  think  on  God 
and  your  soul;  you  must  die."  Monaldeschi  "be- 
side himself,"  sent  Father  Le  Bel,  who,  sobbing, 
prostrated  himself  before  Christina  imploring  her 
"by  the  wounds  of  the  Saviour"  to  have  pity. 
She,  "with  a  serene  and  composed  face  .  .  , 
replied  that  she  was  very  sorry  but  that  it  was 
impossible  to  grant  this  request." 

And  all  this  lasted  another  hour.  During  still 
another,  the  poor  man  refused  to  resign  himself 
to  his  fate.  Several  times  he  began  his  confes- 
sion, and  his  anguish  choked  him.  He  cried  out, 
he  implored  all  to  intercede  for  him  once  more. 
The  queen's  chaplain  having  entered,  he  embraced 
him  as  a  possible  saviour,  and  sent  him  to  the 
queen.  Then,  once  more  Sentinelli  went  to  the 
barbarous  woman.  Christina  turned  the  "coward 
who  was  afraid  of  death"  into  ridicule,  and  sent 
away  Sentinelli  with  these  horrible  words,  "Force 
him  to  make  his  confession,  then  wound  him."^ 
Sentinelli  "pushed  Monaldeschi  against  the  wall 
at  the  end  of  the  gallery,  where  hangs  the  Saint 
Germain  painting, ' '  ^  and  dealt  him  a  first  blow. 
Monaldeschi  was  unarmed.  With  his  hand  he 
attempted  to  avert  the  sword,  and  three  fingers 
fell  to  the  floor.  Covered  with  blood,  the  poor 
wretch  received  absolution,  and  then  a  disgusting 
butchery  began.  The  marquess  wore  a  mail  shirt 
so  that  the  blades  could  not  penetrate.     His  exe- 

*  Motteville.  *  Narration  of  Father  Le  Bel, 


132         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

cutioners  cut  at  the  face,  the  head,  the  neck, 
wherever  they  could.  Covered  with  wounds,  half 
dead,  Monaldeschi  heard  a  door  open,  caught 
sight  of  the  chaplain,  and  took  to  hoping  once 
more.  He  dragged  himself  toward  the  priest, 
leaning  against  the  wall,  and  sent  him  once  more 
to  cry  for  mercy.  As  the  chaplain  left,  Senti- 
nelli  ended  his  victim's  agony  by  running  his 
sword  through  the  throat.  It  was  then  three 
quarters  past  three. 

The  effect  produced  on  the  public  was  disas- 
trous. Every  heart  was  filled  with  horror.  So 
much  cold  cruelty  for  a  man,  once  loved,  seemed 
the  act  of  a  savage.  It  was  with  a  sort  of  horror 
that  one  thought  of  this  young  woman  conversing 
about  trifles,  politely  interrupting  herself  to  refuse 
Monaldeschi's  pardon,  then  quietly  resuming  her 
conversation,  while  close  at  hand  her  former 
lover  was  undergoing  his  cruel  agony.  How  many 
times,  during  the  remainder  of  her  life,  this  murder 
of  Monaldeschi  was  thrown  at  her !  Why  —  she 
could  never  understand. 

On  the  news  of  the  event,  Mazarin  sent  Chanut 
to  Fontainebleau  to  warn  the  queen  of  Sweden 
not  to  show  herself  in  Paris  for  fear  of  the  people. 
Not  long  ago ,^  Christina's  answer  to  the  cardinal 
was  discovered.     The  letter,   written  by  herself, 


1  The  letter  was  discovered  in  the  Archives  of  the  Foreign 
Office  by  M.  A.  Geffroy,  who  published  it  in  the  Recufil  des  instruc- 
tions donn^es  aux  ambassadeurs  et  ministres  de  France  en  Inede, 
Paris,  1885. 


Christina  of  Sweden  133 

evidently   in   a   state   of  rage,    is   crooked,    ink- 
stained,  and  almost  illegible. 

' '  My  Cousin  :  —  Monsieur  Chanut,  a  good  friend 
of  mine,  will  tell  you  that  all  which  comes  from  you 
is  received  by  me  with  respect;  and  if  he  did  not 
succeed  in  arousing  in  my  soul  the  abject  terrors 
to  which  he  would  willingly  have  given  rise,  it 
was  by  no  lack  of  eloquence  on  his  part.  But, 
to  tell  the  truth,  we  Northerners  are  of  a  some- 
what rough  nature  and  not  much  given  to  fears. 
You  will  therefore  forgive  me  if  the  communica- 
tion thus  made  to  me  did  not  have  all  the  success 
you  expected  of  it.  I  beg  to  assure  you  that  I 
should  be  glad  to  please  you  in  all  things,  save  in 
harbouring  the  slightest  tremor.  You  know  that 
men  of  more  than  thirty  do  not  believe  in  sorcery. 
For  my  part,  I  find  it  easier  to  strangle  people 
than  to  fear  them.  As  to  my  conduct  toward 
Monaldeschi,  I  assure  you  that  were  he  still  living, 
I  should  not  sleep  to-night  before  seeing  that  the 
deed  was  accomplished.  I  have  no  reason  to 
repent.  (Here  some  illegible  words.)  This  is  all 
I  have  to  say  on  the  subject.  If  you  are  satis- 
fied, I  shall  rejoice ;  if  you  are  not,  I  shall  remain 
unchanged  and  shall,  all  my  life,  be  your  affec- 
tionate friend 

Christina." 

This  letter  was  not  likely  to  mend  matters. 
Christina  was  left  to  herself  at  Fontainebleau 
during  the  next  three  months.     She  asked  for  an 


134         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

invitation  from  Cromwell,  to  whom  tragedies  were 
familiar,  but  he  "pretended  not  to  understand." 
She  insisted  on  going  to  Paris  during  the  carnival 
(February,  1658),  frequented  places  of  public 
amusement,  under  a  mask,  was  treated  icily  by  the 
queen  mother,  and  almost  turned  out  of  doors. 
Before  she  left,  she  assisted  at  a  sitting  of  the 
French  Academy.^  The  Academy,  taken  by  sur- 
prise, first  exhausted  the  collection  of  its  poets' 
verses,  such  as  the  madrigals  of  the  Abbe  de  Bois- 
robert,  a  sonnet  on  "the  death  of  a  lady,"  by  the 
Abb6  Tallemant,  a  little  love  song  by  Monsieur 
Pellisson,  verses  by  the  same  "on  a  sapphire  that 
had  been  lost  and  found  again."  Then,  to  fill 
up  the  time,  the  dictionary  work  was  resumed. 
The  word  jeu  was  discussed,  and  the  chancellor, 
turning  toward  the  queen,  said  gallantly  that 
doubtless  the  word  "would  not  displease  her 
Majesty,  and  that,  surely,  that  of  melancholy 
would  have  been  less  welcome."  Then,  this  was 
given  as  example :  Jeux  de  princes  qui  ne  plaisent 
qu'a  ceux  qui  les  font.  (Princely  games  agreeable 
only  to  those  who  play  at  them.)  This  looked 
terribly  like  an  allusion  to  the  death  of  Monal- 
deschi.  All  eyes  were  turned  toward  Christina, 
who  blushed,  lost  all  self-control,  and  tried  unsuc- 
cessfully to  laugh.  Almost  immediately  after  this 
she  took  her  leave,  accompanied,  with  many  bows, 
by  "Monseigneur  le  Chancelier"  and  all  the 
academicians.     Such  was  the  farewell  of  Chris- 

*  Memoirs  of  Cotirart. 


Christina  of  Sweden  135 

tina  to  Paris.  She  started  the  next  day,  with 
money  given  by  Mazarin,  and  went  to  Rome  in 
order  to  make  the  Pope's  Hfe  a  burden  to  him. 


VIII 

And  that  was  the  end  of  our  brilHant  Chris- 
tina. She  still  had  thirty  years  of  life  before 
her,  and  that  long  period  of  time  was  one  long 
downfall.  She  still  loved  to  astonish  the  world, 
and  the  world  refused  to  be  astonished.  She 
insisted,  and  was  voted  insupportable.  The  world 
is  not  tender  to  old  heroines.  She  was  soon  called 
the  "shaved  adventuress  and  intriguer."  People 
wondered,  with  much  distrust,  for  what  services 
Mazarin  had  given  her  two  hundred  thousand 
francs.  This  vagabond,  who  without  shame 
knocked  at  closed  doors,  became  less  and  less 
interesting.  She  was  still  feared,  for  she  was 
clever  and  unscrupulous;  she  was  no  longer  es- 
teemed, as  in  justice  she  could  not  be.  On  her 
return  from  France  she  committed  an  act  more 
criminal,  lower  even  than  the  murder  of  Monal- 
deschi.  .  She  did  not  blush  —  she,  the  ex-queen 
of  Sweden,  she,  on  whom  her  people  had  lavished 
fidelity  and  kindness,  she  who  had  deserted 
her  post  to  wander  all  over  the  world  —  she  did 
not  blush  to  send  Sentinelli  to  the  Emperor  of 
Germany  with  this  message,  that,  "Since  Charles 
Augustus,  King  of  Sweden,  did  not  give  her  the 


136         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

pension  of  two  hundred  thousand  crowns  a  year, 
which  had  been  agreed  upon,  and  left  her  in  want, 
she  begged  the  emperor  to  lend  her  twenty  thou- 
sand men  under  the  orders  of  General  Montecu- 
culli,  as  with  such  an  army  she  felt  sure  of 
conquering  Pomerania  (which  belonged  to  Sweden) 
where  she  had  many  adherents.  She  would  keep 
the  revenues  during  her  lifetime,  and  after  her 
death  Pomerania  should  return  to  the  empire." 
Thus  she  offered  to  carry  war  into  her  own  coun- 
try, for  a  question  of  money,  because  Sweden, 
ruined  partly  through  her  own  fault,  did  not  pay 
her  regularly.  This  creature  had  no  spark  of 
royal  honour  in  her  soul.  She  belonged  to  the 
^    castvshe  herself  had  called  "the  rabble  of  kings." 

The  negotiation  came  to  nothing,  we  do  not 
know  why. 

The  Pope  did  his  best  to  shape  into  some  sort 
of  dignity  this  deplorable  existence.  He  gave 
Christina  a  revenue  of  twelve  thousand  crowns; 
then  he  sent  her  a  steward  to  keep  her  accounts 
and  direct  her  household.  His  Holiness 's  choice 
fell  upon  a  young  cardinal,  Dece  Azzolini,  a 
"handsome  man,  of  an  agreeable  countenance," 
witty  and  well-read,  clever,  supple,  selfish;  "he 
spent  most  of  his  time  in  amorous  discussions." 
The  steward's  success  was  overwhelming.  Ac- 
cording to  the  queen,  he  was  "divine,"  "incom- 
parable," an  "angel."  She  likened  him  to  her 
favourite  hero,  Alexander  the  Great.  Azzolini, 
by  way  of  acknowledging  the  favours  showered 


Christina  of  Sweden  137 

upon  him,  rendered  real  services.  He  brought 
about  serious  reforms  in  the  household,  stopped 
the  robbing  and  waste,  redeemed  the  jewels  and 
the  plate.  He  could  not,  however,  with  twelve 
thousand  crowns  keep  up  a  court,  buy  rare  curi- 
osities, and  yet  make  the  two  ends  meet.  The 
wrangling  with  Sweden  continued,  so  did  the 
negotiations  with  usurers  and  the  quarrels  about 
money.  Christina's  correspondence  with  her 
agents  wearies  one  to  death.  One  hears  of  nothing 
but  expedients,  compromises,  and  double-dealings. 
She  had  none  of  the  dignity  of  a  self-respecting 
person,  who  applies  to  no  one  for  help. 

Expedients  are  a  terrible  curse  to  a  princess. 
Christina  knew  another  sorrow  which  many  had 
predicted  to  her  at  the  time  of  her  abdication: 
she  regretted  the  crown.  When  she  had  enjoyed 
liberty  to  the  full  of  her  bent,  shown  her  doublet 
to  courts  and  to  the  rabble,  she  wanted  something 
new.  What?  That  she  could  not  tell.  What 
theatrical  part  could  she  now  adopt?  That  was 
a  puzzle.  She  had  not  given  up  the  hope  of 
blooming  out  as  a  great  general,  but  the  sover- 
eigns of  Europe  seemed  by  no  means  eager  to 
confide  their  armies  to  her  care.  She  thought  of 
becoming  queen  once  more  —  or  king  —  accord- 
ing to  the  choice  of  the  people. 

In  1660,  she  heard  of  the  death  of  her  cousin 
and  successor,  Charles  Augustus.  He  left  a  son 
four  years  old,  Charles  XI,  sickly  according  to 
Christina ;  in  robust  health  according  to  the  states 


138         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

of  Sweden.  The  queen  started  for  Stockholm, 
under  the  pretext  of  looking  after  her  pension, 
crossed  Germany  in  all  haste,  entered  Hamburg 
August  18,  1660,  and  was  respectfully  requested 
by  the  government  not  to  visit  Sweden.  What- 
ever might  be  her  projects,  she  had  sown  the 
wind  to  reap  the  whirlwind,  and  the  government 
feared  her  presence.  By  way  of  answer  she  sailed 
at  once.  The  regency  received  her  with  great 
honours  and  kept  strict  watch  over  her.  She  was 
imperious,  imprudent ;  she  wounded  the  nation  by 
making  a  show  of  her  Catholic  faith.  The  people, 
growing  hard  and  insolent,  destroyed  her  chapel. 
The  Swedish  clergy  came  to  remonstrate  with  her 
and  saw  the  proud  Christina  shed  tears  of  rage. 
She  sent  the  states  a  "Protestation,"  in  which, 
should  little  Charles  XI  die,  she  put  in  her  claims 
to  the  throne.  An  hour  later  the  states  sent  her  a 
formula  of  renunciation  which  she  was  to  sign 
under  penalty  of  forfeiting  her  pension.  Chris- 
tina's signature,  it  is  said,  shows  the  violence  of 
her  anger.  After  many  petty  persecutions  she 
was  pushed  out  of  the  country. 

Such  a  reception  would  have  disgusted  her  for- 
ever, had  she  not  known  that,  in  spite  of  all,  the 
daughter  of  Gustavus  Adolphus  still  had  parti- 
sans. Thus  only  can  we  explain  her  second 
attempt  of  1667,  which  resulted  in  a  still  more 
crushing  disaster.  The  senate  and  the  regency 
agreed  that:  "Her  Majesty,  Queen  Christina, 
should  not  be  allowed    to  reenter  the    kingdom 


Christina  of  Sweden  139 

or  any  of  its  provinces,  with  the  exception  of 
Pomerania,  Bremen,  or  Verden;  still  less  was  she 
to  appear  at  his  Majesty's  court."  On  the  road 
to  Stockholm  a  messenger  sent  post  haste  met 
her  at  past  midnight.  He  brought  her  such  hard 
and  mortifying  orders  that  she  instantly  ordered 
horses,  and  left  Sweden  never  to  return.  From 
a  letter  of  Peter  de  Groot,  ambassador  from  Hol- 
land to  Sweden,  we  learn  that  the  death  of  Monal- 
deschi  was  all  through  the  land  a  dark  stain  on 
her  glory. 

As  she  passed  through  the  duchy  of  Bremen, 
she  visited  the  Swedish  camp,  commanded  by 
Wrangle,  who  had  served  under  her  father.  Chris- 
tina wished  to  show  all  she  knew.  Brilliantly 
uniformed,  astride  a  prancing  steed,  she  rode  up 
and  down  the  ranks,  commanding  the  manoeuvres. 
Naturally  she  made  numberless  mistakes,  which 
Wrangle,  hiding  a  smile,  repaired  as  best  he 
could.  Christina  continued,  unabashed,  for 
nothing  could  persuade  her  that  she  was  not  born 
to  be  a  great  captain.  At  that  time  she  was 
intriguing  for  the  throne  of  Poland,  and  her  agents 
were  representing  her  as  capable  of  commanding 
an  army.  "I  vow,"  wrote  she,  "  that  the  hope  of 
doing  this  alone  made  me  wish  for  the  throne  of 
Poland." 

This  Polish  plot  is  the  strangest  of  her  strange 
adventures.  Christina's  master-stroke  is  certainly 
that  of  having  persuaded  the  Pope  to  second 
her  pretensions  to  the  throne,  left  vacant  by  the 


I40         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

abdication  of  John  Casimir.  The  papers  relating 
to  the  negotiations  have  been  published,  and  no 
authors  of  a  spectacular  piece  ever  imagined  so*  fan- 
ciful a  bit  of  diplomacy.  The  Pope  recommends 
Christina  in  a  brief  in  which  he  praises  her  * '  piety, 
prudence,  her  masculine  and  heroic  courage." 
Christina  wrote  to  the  nuncio :  "As  to  the  piety 
which  the  Pope  mentions  in  his  brief,  let  me  tell 
you  that  I  am  by  no  means  sure  of  the  wisdom  of 
such  a  boast ;  I  doubt  whether  I  deserve  it,  and  I 
doubt  still  more  whether  they  would  appreciate  it." 
The  Polish  Diet,  alarmed  at  so  unexpected  a 
candidature,  hastened,  without  much  order,  to 
present  some  objections.  Christina  found  answers 
to  all.  Her  sex  was  a  drawback?  She  would  be 
king  not  queen,  and  command  the  army.  What 
more  could  the  Poles  desire  ?  The  death  of  Monal- 
deschi?  "  I  am  in  no  humour  to  justify  myself  of 
this  Italian's  death."  Besides,  she  had  taken  care 
"that  the  sacraments  should  be  administered  to 
him  before  the  end."  Her  violence  was  feared? 
"As  to  the  beating  of  a  few  valets,  even  if  I  had 
administered  the  blows  myself,  I  do  not  think  such 
a  trifle  need  exclude  me  from  the  throne,  for,  in 
that  case,  Poland  would  find  no  king."  The 
Diet  was  not  to  be  persuaded,  and  Christina 's  can- 
didateship  fell  to  the  ground. 

This  Polish  venture  was  but  child's  play  com- 
pared with  others.  Christina  was  not  to  be 
daunted;  she  believed  that  the  world  belonged  to 
those  who  dare  and  who  risk  all.     "Life  is  busi- 


Christina  of  Sweden  141 

ness,"  said  she,  "in  which  one  cannot  make  money 
without  risking  to  lose  it.  .  .  ."  She  turned  her 
back  on  Poland,  She  had  thought  to  do  as  much 
for  the  Fontainebleau  incident,  but  here  she  met 
with  an  obstacle  on  which  she  had  not  counted, — 
the  world's  conscience.  She  was  astonished  to 
find  it  ever  before  her.  What  a  singular  thing 
eternally  to  reproach  her  with  Monaldeschi's 
death!  It  was,  after  all,  so  very  simple.  "One 
must,"  wrote  she,  "punish  crime  as  one  can, 
according  to  the  forms  of  justice,  if  possible;  but, 
when  that  is  out  of  the  question,  by  other  means." 
She  pitied  people  for  entertaining  such  low  scruples 
as  to  make  so  much  of  a  servant's  death,  killed 
by  order  of  a  queen.  From  time  to  time,  so  as  to 
hush  the  importunate  murmur  which  arose  about 
her,  she  would  burst  out:  "Write  to  Heinsius 
from  me  .  .  .  that  all  this  fuss  which  he  makes 
about  Monaldeschi  seems  to  me  as  ridiculous  as 
it  is  insolent.  I  am  willing  that  all  Westphalia 
should  deem  Monaldeschi  innocent;  it  is  to  me  a 
matter  of  absolute  indifference."  This  letter  is 
dated  August  2,  1682,  twenty -five  years  after  the 
crime.  And  the  murmur  would  not  be  hushed. 
It  never  has  been. 

It  is  said  that  the  shade  of  Monaldeschi  sat  at 
Christina's  death  bed,  like  the  ghost  of  Banquo 
at  Macbeth 's  banquet.  This  is  merely  a  romantic 
invention.  She  put  this  trifle  to  one  side  and 
forgot  it. 

The  second  voyage  to  Sweden  closes  the  adven- 


1^1         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

tures  of  Christina  in  Europe.  Not  that  she  lacked 
an  itching  desire  for  adventure.  In  1675,  she 
applied  to  the  court  of  Vienna,  renewing  her  de- 
mand for  troops  in  order  to  detach  Pomerania 
from  Sweden.  These  shameful  negotiations  lasted 
for  more  than  a  year.  Repulsed  by  the  emperor, 
she  turned  to  France  to  whom  she  proposed  that, 
during  the  Swedish  internal  troubles,  means 
should  be  found  to  revoke  the  laws  against  Catho- 
lics. Her  Swedish  Majesty  did  not  neglect  to 
mention  the  price  she  put  on  her*  intervention. 
(Letters  and  despatches  of  1676  and  1677.)  Not 
having  succeeded  with  France,  on  the  rumour  that 
Charles  XI  had  been  killed  by  a  fall  from  his 
horse,  she  once  more  turned  her  attention  to 
Sweden  (1682).  Then  came  the  news  that  the 
king  was  alive  and  well.  Later,  when  she  was 
raore  than  sixty  years  of  age,  Christina  wanted  to 
leave  Rome  because  she  was  not  longer  treated 
like  a  queen.  She  had  already  quarrelled  on  that 
score  with  Pope  Innocent  XI,  who  carried  economy 
so  far  that,  according  to  a  legend,  he  spent  but 
half  a  crown  a  day  for  his  meals.  He  found  it 
intolerable  to  pay  twelve  thousand  crowns  a  year 
to  a  very  troublesome  queen:  he  suppressed  the 
pension.  Yet  Christina  remained,  not  knowing 
where  else  to  go. 

The  days  of  cavalcades  were  past.  This  vaga- 
bond of  a  queen  is  now  forced  to  keep  quiet.  She 
is  old,  "very  fat  and  heavy,"  with  a  "double 
chin,  short  and  rough  hair."     She  still  wears  her 


Christina  of  Sweden  143 

doublet,  her  short  skirt,  her  thick  boots.  "A 
sash  tied  over  the  doublet  showed  the  ample  pro- 
portions of  her  waist."  ^  Thus  decked  out,  she 
seemed  smaller  and  even  less  feminine  than  of 
yore.  The  many-coloured  breeches  could  no  longer 
be  donned.  One  can  understand  that  the  Italians 
were  puzzled,  unable  to  make  out  her  real  sex. 
Farewell  to  the  amazon!  The  scholar  took  her 
place  and  kept  it.  At  the  time  of  her  quarrel 
with  the  Pope,  Christina  was  much  tempted  to 
put  herself  at  the  head  of  her  guards.  The  Pope 
spared  her  this  last  feat,  by  ignoring  her  threats. 

Of  the  scholar,  there  would  be  much  to  say. 
She  was  one  of  those  philosophers  who  believe  in 
quack  predictions  and  was  too  much  engrossed 
in  astrology  and  alchemy  to  be  taken  very  seri- 
ously. She  believed  that  astronomy  should  be 
subjected  to  a  religious  censorship;  she  wished 
Rome  to  suppress  all  heretical  portions  of  this 
science.  On  the  other  hand,  her  influence  was 
not  favourable  to  the  numerous  academies  she 
founded  or  protected.  Was  it  necessary  to  as- 
semble prelates,  monks,  and  scholars  in  order  to 
discuss  the  following  subjects:  "Love  comes  but 
once  in  a  lifetime.  It  gives  eloquence  to  those 
who  are  not  naturally  eloquent.  It  inspires  chas- 
tity and  temperance.  One  can  love  without 
jealousy;  never  without  fear." 

In  1688  she  had  a  severe  attack  of  erysipelas. 
It  was  a  warning.     She  understood  it  and  put 

'  Misson,  New  Voyage  to  Italy,  ii  vol. 


144  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

all  in  order  for  her  last  representation.  She 
wished  it  to  be  original,  rich,  and  singular,  in  order 
once  more  to  astonish  the  world.  She  invented 
a  sort  of  gown  which  partook  of  the  skirt  and  of 
the  mantle  and  had  it  made  "of  white  brocade, 
embroidered  with  flowers  and  other  gold  orna- 
ments ;  it  was  to  have  buttons  and  gilt  trimmings, 
with  a  fringe  of  the  same  around  the  bottom  of 
the  skirt."  On  Christmas  eve  she  tried  it  on, 
to  see  what  effect  it  would  produce  on  her  court. 
The  costume  fitted  well.  God  could  now  raise 
the  curtain  and  allow  her  to  die. 

The  Divine  Manager  gave  her  a  respite  of  three 
months  wherein  to  reflect  that,  perhaps,  the 
comedy  had  a  sequel  in  the  next  world.  Then  He 
gave  the  signal.  In  April  of  that  year,  1689, 
Christina  grew  rapidly  weaker.  When  she  was 
incapable  of  discussion,  Cardinal  Azzolini,  her 
major-domo,  presented  a  testament  for  her  signa- 
ture, assuring  her  that  it  was  "advantageous  for 
her  Majesty's  household."  Christina,  without 
reading  it,  signed  the  paper.  The  will  made  Azzo- 
lini her  heir.  The  furniture  and  collections  were 
worth  millions.  She  died  soon  after,  April  19, 
1689.  If  the  dead  can  see  what  goes  on  in  the 
world,  she  must  have  been  satisfied.  The  apo- 
theosis of  the  fifth  act  was  gorgeous. 

She  was  clothed  in  the  fine  costume  of  brocade, 
covered  with  gold  trimmings,  -a  royal  crown  was 
placed  on  ner  head,  a  sceptre  in  her  rigid  hand, 
and,  in  a  magnificent  coach,  she  was  taken  to  the 


Christina  of  Sweden  145 

church  of  Saint  Dorothea,  that  of  her  parish, 
where  she  lay  in  state.  Three  hundred  tapers 
flooded  the  church  with  their  light.  It  was 
draped  in  black,  decorated  with  escutcheons  of 
white  mock  marble,  which  "seemed  to  point  to 
the  vanity  of  life  and  the  certainty  of  death." 
Toward  evening  men  carried  the  bed  in  parade 
to  Saint  Peter's.  Scholars  and  artists  led  the 
way;  then  came  sixteen  confraternities,  seventeen 
religious  orders,  five  hundred  other  monks  with 
lighted  tapers,  the  clergy  of  Saint  Dorothea  and 
of  Saint  Peter,  the  household  of  Christina  in 
mourning,  Christina  herself,  more  magnificent  than 
ever,  for  over  her  was  thrown  a  great  royal  violet 
mantle,  edged  with  ermine.  Following  the  body 
were  lords  and  cardinals,  officers  and  archbishops, 
equerries  and  valets,  gilded  coaches  and  gaily 
decked  horses,  a  shimmering  of  satins  and  em- 
broideries, a  nodding  of  plumes,  a  mixture  of 
liveries,  bright  uniforms,  and  church  vestments. 
It  was  as  fine  a  sight  as  that  of  Christina's  entry 
into  Rome.  Crowds  pushed  forward  to  see  her, 
and  decidedly  the  brocade  robe  was  becoming;  it 
hid  the  heavy  form  and  hunched  shoulder.  It 
was  a  most  successful  funeral :  Plaudite,  cives! 

This  was  her  cry  even  in  death;  she  never 
knew  any  other.  The  Autobiography  claims 
plaudits  for  Christina  in  swaddling  clothes,  for 
the  baby  that  did  not  fear  new  faces,  that  did 
not  sleep  during  speeches:  Plaudite,  cives!  Ap- 
plaud  the    schoolgirl,    the    incomparable    horse- 


146         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

woman,  the  unequalled  scholar,  the  unrivalled 
sovereign,  man  and  woman  in  one,  the  great 
stateswoman,  the  great  general,  the  great  lover! 
Applaud  the  joyous  student,  cap  on  ear,  the  bold 
and  clever  adventuress,  the  tragic  queen  who 
kills,  as  in  the  noble  days  of  olden  despotism,  the 
eighth  wonder  of  the  world,  the  prodigy  of  her 
day:  Plaudite,  cives! 

The  play  ended  magnificently  at  Saint  Peter's, 
where  the  body  was  placed  in  a  coffin,  enclosed 
in  a  vault,  and  Christina  awaited  the  verdict  of 
posterity. 

This  verdict  is  somewhat  contradictory.  Some 
historians  have  praised  her,  dazzled  by  so  many 
brilliant  qualities.  Most  have  condemned  her, 
indignant  at  her  ferocity,  at  the  indecenc}^  of  her 
life,  at  her  cowardly  treason  for  which  she  hoped 
to  reap  golden  rewards.  To-day,  stirring  up  the 
dust  of  old  documents,  wherein  lies  the  record  of 
Christina's  existence,  we  no  longer  see  the  bright 
eyes,  the  joyous  smile,  the  tomboy  gestures. 
We  no  longer  hear  her  witty  and  insolent  repar- 
tees. We  no  longer  feel  the  equivocal  grace  of 
this  feminine  cavalier.  But  we  read  the  narra- 
tive of  Father  Le  Bel,  the  correspondence  with 
Montecuculli  and  with  the  emperor,  the  propo- 
sitions to  France  in  1676-1677,  the  violent  dis- 
cussions on  money  matters  with  Sweden.  Neither 
the  talents  of  Christina,  nor  .her  superior  intelli- 
gence, nor  her  courage,  can  save  her  from  an 
implacable    judgment.        She    was    beyond    the 


Christina  of  Sweden  147 

bounds  of  all  honest  and  responsible  humanity. 
This  crooked  body  contained  a  crooked  soul, 
which  knew  neither  right  nor  wrong.  This  bril- 
liant Christina,  almost  a  genius,  was,  morally,  a 
veritable  monster. 


THE    MEMOIRS    OF   AN    ARAB    PRINCESS 

The  life  of  the  Arab  woman  is  little  known  to 
us,  and  her  feelings  and  ideas  must  be  left  to  the 
imagination.  It  is  fairly  safe,  however,  to  say 
that,  being  a  mere  sensual  little  animal,  she  can 
be  led  only  by  fear.  It  is  equally  safe  to  accord 
her  much  pity,  though  not  unmixed  with  con- 
tempt, and  to  believe  that  any  princess  of  the 
Far  East  would  be  happy  to  change  places  with 
one  of  our  street  sweepers.  Very  few  of  these 
ladies  have  tried  the  experiment,  however,  and 
none  have  given  us  the  benefit  of  their  impres- 
sions; we  are  free,  therefore,  to  believe  what  best 
suits  our  fancy. 

But  here  is  one  who  has  chosen  to  favour  us 
with  her  confessions.^  A  sultan's  daughter,  after 
having  lived  twenty  years  as  a  Mussulman  high- 
ness, ran  away  with  a  Hamburg  merchant,  and 
for  twenty  more  years  has  led  the  life  of  a  good 
German  housekeeper.  In  her  new  surroundings 
she  learned  more  or  less  to  analyse  her  impres- 
sions, and  she  published  her  Memoirs.  The 
object  of  her  candid  book  is  to  compare  the  first 
part  of  her  life  with  the  second,  and  her  Arab 
family  with  her  Christian  one.„    If  the  volumes  of 

^  Memoiren  einer  Arabischen  Prinzessin,  by  Emile  Ruete. 
(II  vol.  Berlin.) 

148 


Memoirs  of  an  Arab  Princess         149 

the  fugitive,  whose  Christian  name  is  Frau  Emilie 
Ruete,  should  ever  fall  into  the  hands  of  one  of 
her  country  people,  he,  in  his  heart,  would  blame 
her  for  having  opened  to  the  eyes  of  all,  her 
father's  harem,  and  revealed  the  secrets  of  a  home 
which  once  was  hers.  As  to  us  who  have  not  the 
same  scruples,  these  artless  pages  have  all  the 
more  value  that  they  are  written  with  the  con- 
viction that  all  our  preconceived  notions  would 
be  reversed  by  their  perusal.  We  shall  unveil 
the  picture  of  Frau  Ruete 's  youth,  leaving  it  just 
as  she  herself  painted  it.  The  reader  must  decide 
for  himself  whether  or  not  her  conduct  was  wise 
and  just. 


She  was  bom  in  a  palace  situated  in  the  island 
of  Zanzibar;  her  name  was  Salme,  and  she  was  of 
a  chocolate  hue.  Her  father  was  the  glorious 
Sejjid  Said,  iman  of  Muscat  in  Arabia,  sultan  of 
Zanzibar,  by  right  of  conquest  since  1784.  She 
probably  came  into  the  world  somewhere  about 
1844,  when  her  father  must  have  been  at  least 
eighty  years  of  age;  but  she  mentions  no  dates, 
perhaps  because  in  her  world  dates  and  numbers 
are  as  vague  as  they  are  unimportant.  These 
good  people  are  spared  the  mania  of  calculating, 
a  mania  which  imparts  so  much  dryness  to  our 
lives  and  takes  from  it  all  charm  of  fantasy. 
Events  for  them  floated  in  the  space  of  time,  as 


150  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

did  life  itself,  measured  only  by  the  fact  of  living. 
Little  Princess  Salme  saw  that  her  father's  beard 
was  white,  that  several  of  her  sisters  might  well 
have  been  her  grandmothers,  that  one  of  her 
nephews  was  almost  an  old  man,  and  that  many 
generations  of  women  had  succeeded  each  other 
in  the  harem;  the  chronology  of  all  these  things, 
events,  and  people,  was  beyond  her.  How  many 
brothers  and  sisters  had  she?  How  many  law- 
ful wives  had  her  father?  How  many  unlawful 
wives,  or  sarari  ?  ^  She  did  not  know.  In  her 
family  affections,  there  existed  a  certain  mystery 
and  uncertainty  which  were  not  without  charm. 
She  experienced  a  delightful  emotion  when,  for 
the  first  time,  she  entered  her  father's  town  harem 
and  saw  numberless  brothers  and  sisters,  quite 
unknown  to  her.  She  for  a  whole  day  went  from 
discovery  to  discovery,  and  this  greatly  interested 
her. 

Her  infancy  had  been  spent  in  the  country 
harem  of  Sejjid  Said,  near  the  town  of  Zanzibar. 
The  place  was  called  Bet-il-Mtoui,  and  it  was  the 
noisiest  and  most  complicated  of  palaces.  Bet-il- 
Mtoui  was  originally  composed  of  an  immense 
court  surrounded  by  buildings.  As  the  family 
increased,  a  wing  had  been  added,  then  a  gallery 
and  a  pavilion;  all  these  buildings  were  huddled 
together  in  picturesque  confusion.  As  this  had 
been  going  on  for  a  long  time,  the  palace  had  be- 
come like  a  small  town  harbouring  about  a  thou- 

•   Singular,  surie. 


Memoirs  of  an  Arab  Princess         151 

sand  inhabitants.  There  was  so  prodigious  a 
number  of  rooms,  of  doors,  of  passages,  and  stair- 
cases, such  a  tangle  of  constructions  of  every 
shape  and  of  every  size,  that  it  required  long 
practice  not  to  get  lost  among  them.  From  one 
end  to  the  other  of  this  labyrinth  swarmed  a 
motley  crowd  of  brown,  black,  and  white  women, 
of  children,  fair  or  dark,  of  growling  eunuchs,  of 
male  and  female  slaves.  Water-carriers,  cooks, 
negro  runners,  masseurs,  nurses,  embroiderers,  in 
one  word,  the  never-ending  domesticity  of  Eastern 
lands,  hurried  to  and  fro.  Brilliant  colours  enliv- 
ened the  costumes,  jewels  sparkled  on  the  women's 
arms,  ears,  necks,  legs,  heads.  Even  the  beggars, 
affirm.s  Princess  Salme,  wore  jewels;  not  one 
woman  in  Zanzibar  went  without  anklets  or  brace- 
lets. Flocks  of  parrots  and  of  pigeons  flew, 
screeched,  or  cooed  in  the  open  galleries,  adding 
to  the  flutter  and  noise  of  this  ever-moving  crowd, 
which  spoke  a  dozen  different  languages  and  dia- 
lects. The  eunuchs  scolded  the  slaves,  and  sent 
them  about  their  business  with  a  whip.  The 
children  screamed  and  tumbled  over  each  other. 
The  wooden  sandals  of  the  women  resounded  on 
the  marble  pavement,  and  the  gold  pendants 
about  their  bare  ankles  tinkled  daintily. 

The  court  was  everybody's  passageway,  the 
great  playground,  the  refuge  of  all  idlers,  the 
hospitable  menagerie  and  farmyard.  Quantities 
of  ducks,  geese,  guinea-fowls,  peacocks,  and  flamin- 
goes, of  tame  gazelles  and  ostriches,  lived  here  in 


152  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

unrestrained  freedom.  Outsiders,  messengers, 
carriers,  artisans,  shopmen,  hustled  each  other  in 
the  hurry  of  their  various  avocations.  At  one 
extremity  were  a  dozen  tanks,  surrounded  by  cov- 
ered galleries,  where,  night  and  day,  hundreds  of 
men  and  women  bathed.  To  get  to  the  court  one 
passed  through  an  orange  grove,  the  branches  of 
which  were  often  laden  with  a  singular  sort  of 
fruit,  chiefly  children  who  had  deserved  a  whip- 
ping, and  there  sought  a  hiding  place.  It  was 
also  in  this  immense  court  that  the  young  princes 
and  their  sisters  learned,  under  the  direction  of 
the  eunuchs,  to  mount  the  thoroughbreds  of 
Oman  and  the  great  white  asses  of  Mascat.  Morn- 
ing and  evening  they  took  their  riding  lessons, 
prancing  and  galloping  on  their  high,  embroidered 
saddles.  The  strips  of  gold  and  silver  on  the 
harnesses  clinked  merrily,  and  frightened  birds 
flew  before  the  horses'  hoofs.  Movement,  noise, 
light,  colour,  everything  was  spirited  at  Bet-il- 
Mtoui,  and  dazzling  to  the  senses. 

In  all  the  palace  there  was  but  one  quiet  and 
silent  nook:  it  was  the  apartment  of  old  Sejjid 
Sal'd  of  the  snow-white  beard.  He  lived  in  a 
wing  overlooking  the  sea,  and  his  windows  opened 
on  a  wide,  round  terrace,  surmounted  by  a  pointed 
roof  of  painted  wood  and  closed  with  balustrades. 
This  construction  inspired  Princess  Salm^  with 
boundless  admiration ;  she  compares  it  to  a  merry- 
go-round  without  the  wooden  horses.  When  the 
old  man  was  not  busy  with  his  orisons  or  in  giving 


Memoirs  of  an  Arab  Princess  153 

audience,  he  would  go  alone  on  his  terrace,  where 
he  could  be  seen  for  hours,  absorbed  and  sad, 
walking  up  and  down,  limping,  for  an  old  wound 
had  crippled  him.  Who  can  say  what  cares 
bowed  that  white  head  ?  There  are  burdens  com- 
mon to  all  monarchs  in  every  latitude,  but  Sejjid 
Said  had  still  other  cares  of  which  we  know 
nothing.  Who  can  guess  his*thoughts  when  one 
of  his  safari,  or  his  children,  craved  some  favour, 
and  he  was  forced  to  send  them  to  their  common 
tyrant,  the  legitimate  spouse,  the  imperious  hihi 
Azze? 

Bihi  is  a  word  of  the  country  which  means  she 
who  gives  orders,  and  is  employed  at  Zanzibar 
in  the  sense  of  her  Highness.  This  title  belonged 
to  a  little  bit  of  a  woman,  without  youth,  without 
beauty,  childless,  who  ruled  Sejjid  Said  with  a 
rod  of  iron;  she  often  decided  even  state  matters. 
She  was  the  last  surviving  of  Sejjid  Sai'd's  hihis, 
and  she  held  him  under  a  heavier  yoke  than  was 
ever  put  on  an  oppressed  Christian  husband.  It 
is  in  vain  that  the  Koran  has  said:  "Men  are 
superior  to  women.  .  .  .  Husbands  lead  and  their 
wives  follow."  Bihi  Azze  did  not  interfere  with 
the  Koran,  but  she  had  her  own  way.  Quite  use- 
lessly had  Sejjid  Sai'd  endeavoured  to  weaken  the 
inevitable  influence  of  the  wife  by  dividing  it 
among  many;  he  had  added  young  Persian  to 
young  Arab  maids,  to  Abyssinian  and  Circassian 
beauties,  until  Bet-il-Sahel,  his  town  palace,  was 
full,  until  a  third  and  fourth  residence  were  equally 


154         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

overflowing.  He  still  continued  to  obey  the  ter- 
rible Azze,  and  all  he  got  by  his  tactics  was  to  be 
caught  between  two  fires.  On  the  one  hand,  the 
herd  of  sarari  always  had  some  request  to  submit 
to  him,  and  these  requests,  childish  or  eccentric, 
had  to  be  decided  by  his  tyrant.  The  most  vivid 
impressions  of  Princess  Salmi's  infancy  are  con- 
nected with  this  terrible  stepmother,  whom  she 
always  remembered  as  followed  by  her  court, 
haughty,  carrying  stiffly  her  diminutive  person. 
She  struck  everyone  dumb.  Her  stepdaughter 
is  obliged  to  borrow  a  comparison  from  the  Prus- 
sian army,  with  its  inflexible  discipline,  in  order 
to  make  us  understand  her  own  terrified  humility 
with  regard  to  hihi  Azze.  "All  those,"  she  says, 
"who  crossed  her  path  were  crushed  as  a  recruit 
might  be  before  a  general."  Nothing  stronger 
could  be  said. 

The  old  sultana  rarely  left  her  white  palace, 
embowered  among  great  cocoanut  trees.  Sejjid, 
during  four  days  of  the  week,  dragged  his  chain 
in  her  presence.  The  other  three  days  he  spent 
at  the  joyous  Bet-il-Sahel,  where  there  was  no 
hihi  and  where  all  felt  at  liberty.  He  himself 
wore  another  countenance;  he  was  enjoying  his 
holiday.  The  three  days  over,  he  returned  to 
submit  to  Azz^'s  caprices  and  to  walk  around  his 
terrace.  How  had  she  conquered  him  ?  By  what 
mysterious  ties  did  she  hold  him?  Either  from 
ignorance  or  discretion,  Princess  Salmd  keeps 
silence  with  regard  to  this  enigma.     She  merely 


Memoirs  of  an  Arab  Princess         155 

refers  at  different  times  to  the  "incredible  power" 
exerted  by  her  stepmother  over  her  father. 

Sejjid  Sai'd  had  not  always  been  as  submissive. 
In  olden  times  he  had  known  anger  comparable 
to  that  of  wild  beasts.  It  was  whispered  in  the 
harem  that  he  had  once,  sword  in  hand,  rushed  at 
a  hihi  who  had  misbehaved  and  that,  but  for  the 
intervention  of  a  eunuch,  he  would  have  killed 
her.  Old  age  had  softened  him,  and  the  valiant 
conqueror  of  1784  now  seemed  a  good-natured 
stage  king.  He  was  a  good  deal  imposed  upon 
at  Bet-il-Sahel ;  the  sarari  and  their  daughters 
went  their  several  ways  according  to  the  caprice 
of  the  moment.  Princess  Salme,  who  spent  there 
most  of  her  time  after  she  had  reached  her  seventh 
or  eighth  year,  lets  us  into  the  secrets  of  this 
extraordinary  household. 

This  is  the  first  time  that  we  have  been  ini- 
tiated, by  a  competent  writer,  one  whose  good 
faith  is  unimpeached,  into  the  woes  of  a  man  at 
the  mercy  of  a  hundred  or  more  women.  His 
tribulations  surpass  all  we  could  imagine  on  the 
subject.  It  is  true  that  Sejjid  Sai'd  singularly 
complicated  matters.  Well  on  toward  his  hun- 
dredth year  he  still  caused  pretty  girls  from  Asia 
and  Africa  to  be  sent  to  him,  and  the  passions 
of  these  young  persons  enlivened  the  palaces. 
The  Abyssinians  were  distinguished  by  their 
stormy  natures.  Jealous  and  vindictive,  they 
flew  into  rages  and  sought  to  revenge  themselves. 
The  Circassians,  less  violent,  were  not  any  easier 


156         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

to  govern.  They  had  a  just  appreciation  of  their 
superiority,  and  were  very  haughty.  One  of 
these,  named  Courschit,  no  longer  young,  was  the 
only  person  in  the  whole  kingdom  capable  of  defy- 
ing Azze,  She  had  a  son  whom  she  governed 
despotically,  and  by  whom  she  had  a  finger  in 
the  political  pie.  This  strong-willed  lady  occu- 
pied a  place  apart  at  Bet-il-Sahel,  and  with  great 
deference  each  consulted  her.  Her  tall  figure, 
her  glittering  eyes,  frightened  the  little  children. 
She  was  greatly  admired  for  her  intelligence,  but 
in  no  way  loved. 

None  of  these  primitive  creatures  had  the  slight- 
est notion  of  moral  discipline.  Nature  made  them 
good  or  bad.  Custom  imposed  upon  them  the 
observance  of  certain  exterior  rules.  The  idea  of 
self-control,  of  self -improvement,  was  as  unknown 
to  them  as  the  precession  of  the  equinoxes.  If 
their  instincts  were  good,  so  much  the  better;  if 
they  were  bad,  the  fear  of  punishment  was  for 
them  the  beginning,  the  middle,  and  the  end  of 
wisdom.  Good  behaviour  was  rendered  doubly 
arduous  because  of  race  rivalry.  Sympathetic 
groups  were  formed  according  to  nationalities  and 
colour,  and  out  of  these  alliances  sprang  furious 
friendships  and  still  more  furious  hatreds.  The 
harems  of  Sejjid  Said  were  fiery  centres.  Passions 
took  on  a  superb  volcanic  character,  unknown  to 
our  calmer  societies,  where  we  are  taught  self- 
restraint.  Princess  Salm^  was  struck  by  this  con- 
trast when  she  arrived  in  Europe.     She  concluded 


Memoirs  of  an  Arab  Princess  157 

that  our  feelings  are  as  pale  and  cold  as  our  sky, 
and  she  pitied  us,  for  she  is  tender-hearted.  Dur- 
ing twenty  years  she  sought  a  German  woman  who 
knew  the  meanings  of  the  verbs  to  love  and  to 
hate,  as  the  least  among  her  countrywomen  knew 
them.  She  never  found  one,  and  could  not  under- 
stand why.  Whenever  she  alludes  to  these  things 
it  becomes  evident  that  the  Arab  and  the  European 
are  by  nature  utterly  at  variance. 

Twenty  years  of  Christian  and  German  educa- 
tion have  not  rendered  Princess  Salme  more 
capable  than  she  was  at  first  of  assimilating  our 
ways,  our  thoughts,  or  our  customs.  She  persists 
in  feeling  that  life  has  narrowed  for  her  since  she 
left  her  country.  If  she  were  capable  of  abstract 
reasoning,  she  would  say :  ' '  You  mistake  a  ghostly 
phantom  for  life  itself;  you  are  amused  by  such 
vain  toys  as  railways  and  observatories.  In  real- 
ity, nothing  counts  for  man  except  what  he  has 
felt;  one  feels  more  in  a  single  week  at  Bet-il- 
Sahel  than  in  Berlin  during  a  whole  year.  My 
father,  the  great  Sejjid  Said,  knew  more  about 
human  passions  than  a  German  philosopher.  You 
fancy  that  a  man  of  the  Far  East,  because  he  is 
grave  and  reserved,  sleeps  away  his  life;  but  I, 
a  slave's  daughter,  I  who  have  tasted  both  cups, 
affirm  that  it  is  your  life,  not  his,  that  is  insipid." 

I  see  very  well  what  we  might  answer;  but  I 
also  know  that  the  answer  would  fall  upon  deaf 
ears.  The  daughter  of  Sejjid  Said,  Christian 
spouse  to  an  honest  merchant,  in  the  two  volumes 


158  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

of  her  Memoirs  does  not  utter  a  single  word 
against  a  harem,  and  she  hides  nothing  which  filial 
duty  would  have  bidden  her  hide  had  she  under- 
stood the  ignominy  of  her  mother's  position. 
Accustomed  from  babyhood  to  Mussulman  ways, 
in  the  depths  of  her  heart  she  prefers  them  to 
ours.  A  little  more,  and  on  the  strength  of  her 
experience,  she  would  proclaim  the  failure  of 
Christian  marriage;  one  feels  that  if  she  does  not 
go  quite  so  far,  it  is  that  she  does  not  dare  to  do 
so.  She  likes  to  recall  the  thoughtless  mirth  of 
her  young  friends,  their  content  at  the  fate  that 
awaited  them,  and  to  compare  it  with  the  stereo- 
typed smiles  of  a  Berlin  dame,  whose  private  life 
was  stormy  enough  under  its  correct  appearance. 
"I  can  declare  in  conscience,"  writes  she,  with 
ingenuous  pleasure,  "that  I  have  in  this  country 
heard  of  amiable  husbands  who  beat  their  wives, 
whereas  an  Arab  would  feel  himself  degraded  by 
such  brutality."  Her  birth  destined  her  to  be- 
come a  bibi,  and,  had  she  the  choice,  bibi  she 
would  still  be;  there  is  no  indiscretion  in  saying 
so,  as  Herr  Ruete  died  long  ago.  His  widow  does 
not  seem  to  understand  that  the  rivalry  of  the 
sarari  and  the  struggle  against  their  influence  are 
enough  to  miserably  degrade  the  position  of  a 
Mussulman  wife. 

Let  us  do  justice  to  her  frankness ;  she  confesses 
that  she  judges  us  by  the  light- of  her  resentment. 
Frau  Ruete,  Princess  of  Zanzibar,  suffered  from 
our  customs  and  habits.     We  have  lost  the  respect 


Memoirs  of  an  Arab  Princess         159 

for  the  aristocracy,  and  that  to  races  who  have 
retained  it  is  intolerable.  We  have  inflicted  suffer- 
ing on  this  fallen  Highness ;  she  moans  gently  over 
little  foolish  things.  We  cannot  refrain  from  smil- 
ing, but  to  her  the  sorrow  was  genuine.  She 
makes  us  think  of  certain  tropical  birds,  the  size 
of  an  emerald,  that  we  are  cruel  enough  to  shut 
up  in  a  cage.  They  roll  themselves,  shivering, 
in  little  fluffy  balls,  hiding  their  heads  under  their 
wings,  so  as  not  to  see  their  prison ;  a  prison  lack- 
ing sunshine,  light,  and  flowers.  One  of  her  great 
griefs  was  that  she  was  treated  by  the  merchants 
of  Hamburg  as  one  of  their  own  set,  and  not  as 
the  daughter  of  a  great  monarch.  She  was,  for 
them,  nothing  but  Frau  Ruete,  the  dark-skinned 
spouse  of  Herr  Ruete,  dealer  in  cottons  and  hard- 
ware, who  had  contracted  a  queer  marriage  during 
a  business  voyage  in  Africa.  "I  did  not  find," 
she  pitifully  writes,  "the  attentions  to  which  I 
thought  I  had  a  right."  She  felt  her  downfall 
very  bitterly,  and  when  she  was  assured  that  the 
condition  of  women  among  us  is  far  superior,  that 
human  dignity  is  more  respected  in  a  German 
scullery  maid  than  in  a  sultan's  bibi,  she  thought 
that  her  fate  would  have  been  more  enviable  and 
glorious  and  romantic  had  she  fallen  in  love  with 
one  of  the  handsome  slaves  who,  when  she  went 
out  in  the  streets  of  Zanzibar,  walked  before  her 
with  a  great  noise  of  weapons.  Among  her 
people,  when  a  girl  marries,  she  keeps  the  name, 
the  rank,  and  the  title  which  she  holds  from  her 


i6o  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

parents;  from  this  state  of  things  flow  many 
adorable  adventures  on  which  Princess  Salme 
doubtless  counted  when  she  eloped. 

Her  people  are  persuaded  that  unequal  mar- 
riages do  not  exist.  Neither  the  customs  nor 
public  opinion  are  opposed  to  the  union  of  a 
prince  and  a  shepherdess.  Nothing  untoward  can 
come  of  it,  since  the  shepherdess  does  not  become 
a  princess  but  remains  "so  and  so,  daughter  of 
so  and  so."  In  Arabia,  where  strength  and  cour- 
age are  still  held  in  great  esteem,  it  is  not  rare 
that  a  chief  gives  his  sister  or  his  daughter  to  a 
slave  who  has  distinguished  himself  by  his  valour. 
He  is  then  by  right  a  free  man,  but  nothing  more. 
He  remains  his  wife's  servant,  speaks  to  her  with 
all  humility,  and  calls  her  "Mistress"  or  "Your 
Highness."  On  his  wedding  evening,  a  certain 
etiquette  is  required  of  him. 

The  bride  does  not  rise  when  her  husband  enters 
the  room.  She  remains  squatting  on  her  heels, 
motionless  and  dumb,  covered  with  jewels,  her 
rich  garments  redolent  with  perfumes,  her  face 
hidden  under  a  black  mask  trimmed  with  gold 
and  silver;  she  resembles  some  magnificent  idol, 
recently  incensed,  still  giving  forth  aromatic  per- 
fumes. The  bridegroom  approaches;  she  remains 
silent.  He  is  bound  to  speak  first,  and  in  that 
he  confesses  his  inferiority.  He  addresses  her 
with  words  of  homage;  she  then  answers,  but  does 
not  yet  remove  her  mask;  he  must  humble  him- 
self still  more  before  he  is  permitted  to  contem- 


Memoirs  of  an  Arab  Princess         i6i 

plate  her  face.  Then  he  bows  as  before  his  sov- 
ereign, and  deposits  his  offering  at  her  feet.  If 
he  is  rich,  he  offers  a  treasure.  If  he  is  poor,  if 
he  possesses  nothing  but  his  strong  arm  and  his 
gun,  he  places  before  her  two  or  three  coppers. 

Princess  Salme  is  convinced  that  marriage  does 
not  annul  distances,  and  that  the  respect  of  an 
ex-slave,  who  has  become  the  son-in-law  of  a 
grandee,  is  as  undying  as  the  majesty  of  his 
spouse.  He  never  reminds  her  that  Mahomet 
said  of  woman  "that  she  is  a  being  who  grows  up 
amid  ornaments  and  finery  and  who  eternally  dis- 
cusses without  reasoning."  He  must  still  less  re- 
member the  passage  of  the  Koran  which  says  that : 
"Men  are  superior  to  women  on  account  of  the 
qualities  with  which  God  has  endowed  them,  thus 
placing  them  above  women.  .  .  .  Virtuous  women 
should  be  obedient  and  submissive.  .  .  .  You 
should  chide  those  who  rebel  .  .  .  you  should 
even  beat  them."  The  ex-slave  is  a  servant  as 
well  as  a  husband,  and  a  king's  daughter  remiains 
a  princess  even  in  the  tent  of  a  freedman.  This 
is  mere  romance,  you  will  say.  Surely.  What 
young  girl  has  not  woven  her  dream  of  romance  ? 
That  of  the  Arab  maiden  is  very  simple  and  primi- 
tive. A  prince's  daughter  dreams  of  a  husband 
who  will  salute  her  courteously  and  not  beat  her. 

It  is  easy  to  guess  at  the  bitter  sorrow  of  a  poor 
kibibi,^  who  knew  nothing  of  Europe,  when,  one 
fine  morning,  she  woke  to  find  herself  a  German 

*  Little  Highness,  little  bibi. 


1 62  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

housekeeper.  We  pity  her,  and  very  sincerely. 
We  cannot  go  so  far,  however,  as  to  imagine  a 
young  German,  EngHsh,  or  French  girl  of  the 
middle  classes  who  would  enjoy  being  a  kibibi, 
and  who  would  contentedly  play  the  part  of  a 
heroine  of  the  Arabian  Nights.  Princess  Salme 
devotes  a  whole  chapter  to  prove  that  the  fate 
of  her  Oriental  sisters  is  as  dignified  as,  and  more 
enviable  than,  that  of  the  European  women  con- 
demned to  servile  work  and  sordid  occupations. 
As  I  read  her  arguments,  I  recalled  a  scene  noted 
during  a  voyage.  It  was  on  a  road  of  Anatolia, 
one  autumn  evening.  Before  us  were  a  couple  of 
unequal  height  and  of  very  different  aspect.  To 
the  left  was  a  grey-bearded  man,  mounted  on  a 
horse  whose  silver  trappings  tinkled  as  he  went. 
The  man  wore  flowing  trousers  of  some  dark 
colour,  and  weapons  were  in  his  sash;  the  upper 
part  of  the  body  was  draped  in  a  burnous  of  fine 
white  wool,  the  hood  of  which  covered  his  turban. 
In  his  high-backed  saddle,  his  appearance  was  ex- 
quisitely graceful  and  haughty.  His  whole  person 
denoted  a  calm  habit  of  authority. 

To  his  right  trotted  mincingly  a  tiny  donkey, 
miserably  pack-saddled,  with  ropes  by  way  of 
reins.  A  woman,  wrapped  in  an  ample  blue 
cotton  garment,  rode,  huddled  up,  astride  the 
pack.  Her  round,  hunched  body  swayed  gently 
to  and  fro,  following  the  movements  of  her  beast, 
and  the  impression  she  gave  was  of  something 
very  humble,  and  of  no  account  at  all. 


Memoirs  of  an  Arab  Princess         163 

These  two  figures  formed  a  laughable  contrast, 
and  when  they  disappeared  at  a  turn  of  the  road, 
one  of  us  said,  "The  problem  of  the  Eastern 
woman  in  a  nutshell."  All  Princess  Salme's  argu- 
ments fall  before  the  remembrance  of  that  shape- 
less little  mass,  trotting  in  the  shadow  of  the  fine 
horseman. 

II 

There  was  no  compensation  for  the  sufferings 
she  endured  in  Europe.  In  our  world,  she  found 
nothing  which  made  up  for  what  she  had  lost  in 
hers.  Mahometanism  had  stamped  her,  and  she 
was  doomed  to  the  intellectual  stagnation  of  her 
religion  and  of  her  race.  In  Germany  she  ac- 
quired knowledge,  she  read  and  worked,  but  her 
thoughts  remained  stationary.  Condemned  not 
to  lose  a  single  idea,  not  to  acquire  a  single  one, 
she  lived  among  us  without  understanding  us, 
without  loving  us.  The  meaning  of  our  civilisa- 
tion she  always  ignored;  between  her  mind  and 
ours  there  was  a  wall. 

The  reasons  for  this  state  of  things  appear  in 
that  part  of  her  Memoirs  where  she  explains 
the  education  given  to  the  boys  and  girls  huddled 
together  in  her  family  palace.  One  can  hardly 
imagine  a  system  better  fitted  to  fashion  minds  in 
a  mould,  and  for  ever  to  separate  the  Oriental 
from  the  European.  These  pages,  in  spite  of  their 
literary  clumsiness,  are  of  vital  interest.     We  all 


164         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

know  by  what  infantile  simplicity  Islamism  gov- 
erns the  minds  and  hearts  of  a  hundred  million  of 
human  beings;  but  we  have  few  opportunities 
of  studying  the  working  of  this  education,  except 
from  the  outside.  A  Mahometan  is  a  man  who 
is  essentially  secretive.  We  needed  the  indiscre- 
tions of  a  renegade  to  learn  how  this  unbending 
and  closed  soul  is  formed;  to  what  influences  it  is 
subjected  under  the  paternal  roof,  and  what  les- 
sons it  receives.  Thanks  to  Princess  Salm6,  we 
can  assist  at  its  development  from  birth  to  the 
flowering  time  of  life. 

The  years  of  infancy  are  given  up  to  the  mother, 
whoever  she  may  be,  bibi  or  sarari;  this  is  the 
curse  of  the  sons  of  the  rich,  who  alone  are  able 
to  afford  harems.  What  the  sarari  are,  we  know. 
What  their  moral  influence  can  be,  we  guess,  even 
when  native  kindliness  serves  as  an  antidote  to 
the  pernicious  atmosphere  of  such  a  place.  Prin- 
cess Salme  had  been  fortunate,  and  had  been  as 
well  nurtured  as  it  was  possible  to  be  in  such  a 
place  as  Bet-il-Mtoui  or  Bet-il-Sahel.  Her  mother 
was  a  robust  Circassian,  plain  and  gentle,  whose 
history  may  be  told  in  three  lines.  She  was  the 
daughter  of  farmers  who  had  three  children.  At 
six  or  seven  she  was  stolen  by  wandering  maraud- 
ers, who  massacred  the  father  and  mother  and 
took  the  children  into  captivity.  She  never 
shook  off  this  nightmare:  she  had  heard  her  little 
sister  sobbing  and  crying  for  their  mother  all  day 
long.     At  nightfall  they  were  separated,  and  she 


Memoirs  of  an  Arab  Princess         165 

never  knew  what  had  become  of  the  others.  The 
chances  of  the  slave  market  had  brought  her  to 
Zanzibar,  where  the  sultan  gave  her  as  a  plaything 
to  his  daughters,  until  the  time  when  she  should 
become  his  own  toy.  She  grew  up,  lived,  and  died 
in  the  harem,  resigned  and  inoffensive,  thinking 
but  little,  and  embroidering  a  great  deal.  Her 
daughter  was  tenderly  attached  to  her. 

When  the  child  was  born,  in  one  of  the  innumer- 
able roomis  of  Bet-il-Mtoui,  its  eyes  were  scarcely 
open  when  two  black  hands  seized  it,  covered  it 
with  violent  perfumes,  and  put  it  in  swaddling 
clothes,  consisting  of  a  long  band,  after  the  fashion 
of  Egyptian  mummies,  the  legs  straight,  the  arms 
close  to  the  body.  It  remained  thus,  quite  stiff, 
for  forty  days,  to  keep  its  spine  from  deviating. 
After  the  first  week,  Sejjid  Sai'd  paid  a  visit  to  the 
mother  and  gave  her  the  infant's  jewels:  heavy 
gold  loops  for  the  ears,  bracelets  and  anklets. 
After  his  departure,  slaves  pierced  the  poor  baby's 
ears  six  times  and  passed  red  silk  in  the  holes. 

On  the  fortieth  day  the  chief  of  the  eunuchs  pre- 
sented himself  before  the  mother.  He  shaved  the 
head  of  the  child  according  to  certain  rites,  amid 
the  fumes  of  odorous  incense.  Then  the  little 
princess  was  unbound.  Her  legs  and  arms  were 
burdened  with  heavy  gold  bracelets,  amulets  were 
hung  about  her  neck,  a  cap  of  gold  cloth  placed 
on  her  head,  and  massive  earrings  put  instead  of 
the  threads ;  the  custom  of  the  country  forced  her 
to  wear  these  until  the  day  of  her  death.     A  silken 


1 66  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

chemise,  strongly  scented,  completed  her  outfit. 
She  was  placed  in  a  cradle,  redolent  with  strong 
perfumes  of  jessamine,  musk,  amber,  and  rose; 
she  was  then  presented  to  the  friends  and  neigh- 
bours whose  curiosity  prompted  them  to  crowd 
the  room.  An  infant,  be  it  the  child  of  a  mason, 
is  always  an  interesting  object  to  a  woman.  A 
birth  was  the  cause  of  rejoicing  in  the  harems  of 
the  old  sultan,  however  customary  the  event  might 
be.  Even  in  his  extreme  old  age,  Sejjid  Sa'id  had 
at  least  five  or  six  children  a  year. 

Princess  Salm6,  who  brought  up  several  child- 
ren amid  the  fogs  and  snows  of  North  Germany, 
always  remembered  with  a  sort  of  wistful  regret 
the  merry  nursery  gifts  of  her  own  country, — 
jewels,  and  a  scrap  of  blue  or  pink  silk.  She  com- 
pares the  fate  of  a  German  housekeeper  —  her 
own  —  with  that  of  an  Arab  woman,  and  she 
sighs.  Eve,  thrust  out  of  Paradise,  wept  thus 
over  the  lazy  hours,  quite  free  from  care,  in  her 
beautiful  garden.  Yonder,  in  Zanzibar,  there 
were  no  stockings  to  mend,  no  woollen  gloves  out 
at  the  finger  tips,  no  great  "wash  days."  Oh, 
those  laundry  days  in  Germany!  they  seemed  the 
very  symbol  of  the  hateful  law  of  work  to  this 
sultan's  daughter,  whom  slaves  soothed  to  sleep 
with  great  waving  fans,  and  who  thought  no 
more  of  work  than  did  the  small  parrots  perched 
beneath  her  window.  Then,  ^he  did  not  even 
know  the  name  of  flatirons.  To-day,  she  per- 
haps is  busy  folding  sheets  and  piling  up  dusters. 


Memoirs  of  an  Arab  Princess         167 

Her  first  years  were  spent  toddling  about  bare- 
footed in  a  shift,  with  other  Highnesses  of  her 
age.  As  soon  as  these  tots  could  put  two  ideas 
together,  they  took  part  in  the  quarrels  of  their 
mothers  and  herded  according  to  race.  The  sons 
and  daughters  of  Circassians  soon  learned  that 
their  mothers,^  in  the  slave  market,  had  brought 
a  higher  price  than  the  black  sarari,  and  in  their 
hearts  they  despised  their  brethren  born  of  Abys- 
sinians.  These  returned  hatred  for  hatred.  They 
could  not  see,  without  anger,  a  skin  white  or  light 
coloured:  such  children  were  dubbed  in  scorn, 
"sons  of  cats,"  because  some  among  them  had 
blue  eyes.  There  were  subdivisions  among  High- 
nesses of  the  same  hue.  It  also  happened  that, 
from  one  camp  to  another,  friendships  sprang  up. 
In  this  huge  family,  each  one  chose  a  family. 
Each  brother  had  a  favourite  sister,  who  became 
his  confidante  and  his  ally,  and  both  had  their 
chosen  stepmothers.  And  it  came  to  pass  that 
those  whom  one  did  not  like  in  this  wild  gyne- 
caeum  were  held  in  suspicion,  for  each  thought  that 
those  who  were  not  friends  might  well  become  foes. 

These  details  in  no  way  shock  Princess  Salm6. 
They  cast  no  shadow  on  the  sweet  and  brilliant 
remembrance  of  the  paternal  household,  object 
of  her  eternal  regrets.  It  is  with  perfect  calm 
that  she  describes  the  trepidation  of  joy  with 
which  the  denizens  of  Bet-il-Sahel  discover  the 
symptoms  of  consumption  in  one  of  the  inmates. 
This  familiar  guest  was  welcomed,  for  there  would 


1 68  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

be  soon  a  free  place,  a  choice  room  for  the  others. 
A  mere  cough,  heard  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall, 
was  at  once  noted  by  tender-hearted  friends,  who 
trembled  lest  the  symptom  might  be  a  false  one, 
"These  thoughts  were  assuredly  to  be  deplored," 
adds  Princess  Salmd,  "but  really  there  were  too 
many  of  us."  Does  not  this  peaceful  and  indiffer- 
ent tone  make  one  shudder? 

It  must  be  owned  that  family  relationship  is 
too  extended  in  those  immense  harems  for  its 
bonds  to  be  much  felt.  It  is  even  strange  that 
filial  love  should  exist  there  at  all.  This  is  all 
the  more  astonishing  that  it  is  subjected  to  great 
shocks.  All  the  princes  and  princesses  were  taught 
to  respect  their  father  and  Bibi  Azzd.  At  Bet-il- 
Mtoui,  the  first  duty  of  the  day,  after  the  bath  and 
prayers,  was  to  salute  the  two  great  beings  and 
to  kiss  their  hands.  Sejjid  Said  graciously  re- 
ceived this  homage,  saw  that  the  jewels  of  the 
little  ones  were  in  good  order,  their  hair  weU 
taken  care  of,  and  distributed  French  bonbons  to 
the  band.  Bibi  Azz^,  with  icy  coldness,  held  out 
her  small,  dry  hand  to  be  kissed;  it  is  true  that 
these  girls  were  not  of  her  blood,  that  the  boys 
had  taken  the  place  of  those  she  might  have 
borne;  that  they  were  all  indifferent  to  her,  even 
when  they  did  net  irritate  or  annoy  her.  After 
the  ceremony  of  the  hand  kissing,  the  family  went 
to  breakfast,  and  the  sarari's  children  could  com- 
pare their  dignity  with  the  humility  of  those  who 
had  given  them  birth. 


Memoirs  of  an  Arab  Princess  169 

The  table  was  spread  in  a  gallery  or  some  large 
hall.  It  was  not  half  a  foot  high,  but  long  enough 
to  accommodate  the  sons,  grandsons,  and  their 
descendants,  the  daughters,  granddaughters,  and 
their  descendants.  The  sultan  took  his  place  at 
the  head,  seated  Eastern  fashion  on  a  rug,  and  his 
superb  line  of  descendants,  on  either  side,  were 
placed  according  to  age,  the  two  sexes  mixed  to- 
gether. The  married  princes,  who  lived  outside, 
brought  their  sons.  Bibi  Azze  came  when  she 
chose,  as  did  also  the  sister  of  Sejjid  Said.  Not 
one  surie,  were  she  mother  of  the  heir  to  the 
throne,  could  ever  eat  at  the  royal  table.  In  the 
immutable  hierarchy  of  the  palace  they  were,  so 
to  speak,  the  illegitimate  and  stigmatised  mothers 
of  the  master's  legitimate  and  glorious  children. 

They  were  equally  absent  from  the  evening  fes- 
tivities. After  the  dinner,  which  was  the  repeti- 
tion of  the  breakfast,  Sejjid  Said  left  his  apartments 
and  sat  on  a  European  chair.  His  prodigious  pos- 
terity stood  to  the  right  and  to  the  left  of  him, 
the  young  children  standing  out  of  respect  for 
their  elders,  the  others  seated.  A  little  in  the 
background,  the  eunuchs,  in  fine  garb,  stood 
against  the  wall.  When  all  were  settled,  the 
evening  pleasures  began.  Coffee  and  syrups  were 
offered,  and  a  monstrous  barrel  organ  was  brought, 
so  immense  that,  in  Europe,  Princess  Salme  never 
saw  its  like.  A  slave  turned  the  handle,  and  the 
sultan  listened  solemnly.  Sometimes  a  musical 
box  took  the  place  of  the  organ,  or  a  blind  woman 


lyo         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

sang  Arab  songs.  This  lasted  an  hour  and  a  half, 
then  Sejjid  Said  rose  and  retired  to  his  apartments. 
This  was  the  signal  for  all  to  leave.  The  follow- 
ing evening  was  like  this  one,  and  so  on  from 
year's  end  to  year's  end;  there  was  never  the 
slightest  change  either  in  the  order  of  the  diver- 
sions or  in  the  etiquette  which  decided  those  who 
were  allowed  to  enjoy  them. 

Thus,  everything  contributed  to  make  the  chil- 
dren of  the  sarari  understand  that  their  mothers 
were  inferior  beings  who,  thanks  to  them,  had  a 
shadow  of  importance  which  must  necessarily  be 
lost  in  losing  their  offspring.  They  knew  that 
the  surie,  whose  child  had  died,  could  once  more 
be  sold,  and  "narrow-hearted"  Arab  husbands 
often  made  use  of  that  right.  They  also  knew 
that  in  widowhood  their  mothers  would  depend 
upon  them,  no  law  providing  for  them,  at  least 
in  Zanzibar.  The  surie,  whom  her  sons  and 
daughters  abandoned,  was  forced  to  beg,  if  no 
kindly  person  came  to  her  rescue.  A  niece  of 
Princess  Salme,  called  Farschu,  was  the  daughter 
of  a  violent  and  passionate  Abyssinian.  Farschu 
lost  her  father  and  inherited  his  riches,  quarrelled 
with  her  mother  and  abandoned  her.  The  old 
surie  tried  to  earn  her  bread  by  working,  failed, 
and  would  have  died  of  hunger  had  not  one  of  her 
ex-sisters-in-law  been  moved  to  compassion  and 
taken  her  in. 

Such  cases  were  very  rare,  and  this  certainly 
is  to  the  credit  of  the  Arabs.     Even  when  they 


Memoirs  of  an  Arab  Princess         171 

saw  their  mothers  treated  with  contumely,  their 
fiUal  respect  did  not  waver.  They  witnessed  the 
sensual  and  indolent  lives  of  their  mothers,  they 
were  mixed  up  in  their  evil  intrigues,  and  still 
remained  affectionate.  The  princes  of  royal  blood 
when,  at  their  majority,  they  left  the  roof  of 
Sejjid  Sa'id,  nearly  always  took  their  mothers  with 
them  to  their  new  homes.  They  kept  them  to 
the  end,  and,  thanks  to  loving  care,  gave  to  their 
old  age  that  dignity  which  had  been  so  cruelly 
wanting  in  their  youth.  Maternity  was  the  com- 
pensation of  marriage  for  the  surie.  "Her  inter- 
course with  her  children,"  says  Princess  Salme, 
"very  amply  makes  up  to  her  for  the  disadvan- 
tages of  polygamy."  These  words  are  greatly  to 
the  honour  of  the  nation  that  has  deserved  them. 
They  prove  a  noble  nature.  However,  Europeans 
have  some  difficulty  in  understanding  that  the 
feelings  of  respect  and  love  inspired  by  a  mother 
should  not  extend,  in  some  degree,  to  the  whole 
sex.  They  are  ill  at  ease  when  they  see  these 
tender  sons  yet  confine  their  own  sarari  to  the 
secular  fate  of  mere  females. 

Sejjid  Said  cared  for  his  offspring  as  well  as  a 
pater  familias  so  very  much  encumbered  could  be 
expected  to  do.  With  great  curiosity,  I  have 
sought  for  passages  of  the  Memoirs  which 
might  enlighten  me  as  to  the  sentiments  of  a 
father  who  counted  his  children  by  the  hundreds, 
and  I  have  seen  that  the  heart  of  the  just  is  a 
very  ocean  of  tenderness.     The  old  sultan  rejoiced 


ly^         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

in  the  fabulous  number  of  births  in  his  harems. 
Smallpox,  consumption,  cholera,  and  typhus  fever 
had  done  their  work,  however,  so  that  at  his  death, 
he  left  only  eighteen  sons  and  as  many  daughters, 
a  much  diminished  family.  Toward  the  end, 
nature  had  not  quite  filled  up  the  fast  thinning 
ranks.  So  many  joys  and  so  many  sorrow^s  would 
have  blunted  shallow  feelings.  His  sentiments 
remained  constant,  and  his  daughter  remembers, 
with  emotion,  having  seen  him  weep  and  pray  at 
a  son's  deathbed,  he  who  was  so  very  old  and  still 
had  "more  than  forty  children." 

It  really  seems  as  though  he  knew  them  all. 
We  have  already  seen  that  he  cared  for  their 
appearance.  He  saw  that  they  went  to  school, 
and,  in  person,  recommended  the  school  mistress 
not  to  spare  the  rod.  He  took  the  boys  out  with 
him,  and  caused  blows  to  be  administered  to  the 
riding  masters  whose  pupils  were  in  fault.  This 
was  wise  and  right,  since  the  masters  were  free  to 
punish  their  pupils.  "My  father  was  convinced 
that,  in  spite  of  his  orders,  they  were  too  indul- 
gent toward  the  princes."  When  the  little  fel- 
lows were  very  naughty  indeed,  they  were  taken 
to  their  father  who  scolded  them.  A  "very  arro- 
gant" brother  had  shot  at  little  Salme  with  an 
arrow  and  wounded  her  in  the  side.  "My  father 
said,  *  Salme,  go  and  tell  Hamdam  to  come  to  me.' 
I  had  scarcely  entered  with  my  brother,  when  he 
had  to  listen  to  such  terrible  words  that  surely 
he  never  forgot  them."     Sejjid  Said  made  pres- 


Memoirs  of  an  Arab  Princess         173 

ents  to  his  children,  gave  dowries  when  the  time 
came,  and  condemned  himself  to  listen,  in  their 
company,  for  one  hour  and  a  half,  to  the  big 
barrel  organ  and  the  musical  boxes.  How 
many  Christian  fathers  do  no  more,  without 
having  the  same  excuses!  How  many  merely 
act  as  the  exterior  guard  of  the  souls  intrusted 
to  their  care,  without  ever  inquiring  into  the 
thoughts  of  the  child,  his  desires,  or  his  secret 
sorrows. 

In  education  at  Bet-il-Mtoui,  learning  had  but 
a  small  part,  and  yet  the  importance  of  it  was 
great.  Instead  of  science,  method  was  taught; 
and  this  formed  a  habit  of  mind  which  nothing 
could  change.  In  this  aristocratic  land,  one  is 
struck  with  the  fact  that  the  studies  were  the 
same  for  the  heir-apparent  to  the  throne,  and  for 
a  slave  whom  his  master  wished  to  educate. 
There  was  but  one  school  for  all,  and  in  that 
school  but  one  class,  strangely  mixed  and  still 
more  strangely  kept.  It  was  held  in  one  of  the 
open  galleries  of  the  palace,  where  the  insolent 
birds  fluttered  at  their  own  sweet  will.  By  way 
of  furniture,  there  was  only  some  matting.  A 
crowd  of  squatting  scholars,  boys  and  girls,  were 
cowed  beneath  the  stick  of  a  dismal,  toothless  old 
dame,  who  distributed  learning  and  blows  with 
strict  impartiality,  and  without  any  distinction 
of  age,  sex,  or  rank.  The  same  lesson  served  for 
a  Highness  and  his  black  groom,  and  the  same 
punishments  were  furiously  administered  by  the 


174         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

hag,  who  thus  obeyed  the  sultan's  orders.  A 
single  book  was  admitted  into  the  class, — the 
Koran.  It  is  not  enough  to  say  that  it  reigned 
in  the  school:  it  was  the  school. 

The  beginners  learned  to  read  in  the  Koran. 
As  soon  as  they  could  spell  the  words,  they  were 
taught  to  read  the  verses  together,  very  loud,  and 
to  learn  them  by  heart.  In  that  way  they  went 
to  the  end  of  the  book,  then  began  again,  once, 
twice,  three  times,  without  a  word  of  explanation, 
understanding  what  they  could  of  the  sacred  text, 
and  fearing  to  let  their  minds  dwell  on  it,  for  they 
knew  that  it  was  ' '  impious  and  forbidden  to  medi- 
tate on  the  holy  book;  man  must  believe  with 
simplicity  that  which  is  taught  him;  all  strictly 
observed  this  precept"  at  Zanzibar.  The  first 
duty  of  a  master  was  to  prevent  his  pupils  from 
thinking  about  their  lesson,  from  having  an  idea 
or  putting  a  question,  so  that  the  habit  of  mechani- 
cal recitation  becomes  a  second  nature.  Those 
blessed  with  a  good  memory  knew  about  half  the 
Koran  by  heart  at  the  end  of  the  first  year. 
Others  spent  two  or  three  years  reciting,  through 
the  nose,  the  sourates,  before  they  memorized  a 
decent  quantity.  Now  and  then,  but  very 
rarely,  a  stripling,  very  bold  or  very  holy,  dared 
to  understand  and  comment  on  the  holy  text: 
"Perhaps  one  out  of  a  thousand,"  says  Princess 
Salme. 

The  children  acquired  some  slight  notions  of 
grammar  and  spelling,  and  they  were  taught  to 


Memoirs  of  an  Arab  Princess         175 

count  up  to  a  thousand,  never  more.  "What  is  be- 
yond," said  Mahometan  wisdom,  "comes  from 
Satan."  The  education  of  the  girls  never  went 
further ;  it  was  not  desirable  that  a  woman  should 
know  how  to  write.  The  boys  learned  writing  by 
copying  verses  of  the  Koran,  after  which  their 
studies  were  ended .  The  very  words ' '  geography , ' ' 
"history,"  were  unknown  at  Bet-il-Mtoui.  As  to 
the  natural  sciences,  Princess  Salm^  remarks  that 
the  teaching  of  them  would  wound  a  pious  Arab 
to  the  depths  of  his  soul,  as  he  m.ust  never  inquire 
into  the  secrets  of  nature.  This,  at  any  rate,  has 
not  always  been  the  case,  as,  even  nowadays  there 
are  pious  Arabs  who  learn  astronomy  and  physi- 
cal sciences  without  imagining  that,  by  so  doing, 
they  offend  Allah;  but  Princess  Salme  can  only 
speak  of  her  own  people,  and  those  whom  she 
knew.  The  inhabitants  of  Zanzibar  believe  that 
it  is  blasphemy  to  consider  any  rules  outside  of 
God's  will,  even  if  those  rules  emanate  from  that 
will  and  are  subject  to  it.  They  have  not,  like 
the  Turks,  been  spoiled  by  European  contact  ("and 
you  see,"  adds  the  princess,  "if  this  has  been  to  the 
advantage  of  the  Turks"),  and  they  reject  with 
horror  the  very  thought  of  natural  laws.  "To 
speak  of  such  things  to  one  of  my  countrymen 
would  shake  his  whole  being,  and  cause  him  very 
great  disturbance."  The  orthodox  classes  of  Bet- 
il-Mtoui  and  Bet-il-Sahel,  where  the  children  of 
royal  blood  were  brought  up,  made  perfect  Ma- 
hometans according  to  that  ideal.     Their  educa- 


176         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

tion  sealed  up  all  the  openings  by  which  the  mind 
might  have  escaped  to  question  those  mysteries 
to  which  no  answer  has  ever  been  found,  but  the 
seeking  after  which  constitutes  the  true  dignity 
of  man.  The  child  left  the  school,  his  head  stuffed 
with  precepts  which  it  was  considered  impious  to 
analyse,  and  outside  of  which  it  would  have  been 
an  abomination  to  look  for  an  explanation  of  the 
world  and  of  life.  It  was  the  pupil's  duty  to  apply 
these  precepts  without  reasoning  any  more  than 
he  did  when  he  sang  in  a  falsetto  voice  with  his 
companions.  As  to  doubting  their  divine  origin, 
he  would  rather  have  disbelieved  in  the  sun's 
light.  Since  his  birth  he  had  heard  his  father, 
his  mother,  his  masters,  and  his  slaves  affirm  that 
there  was  no  God  but  Allah,  and  that  Mahomet 
was  his  prophet.  These  two  ideas,  if  I  may  so 
express  myself,  formed  part  and  parcel  of  his 
being,  of  his  very  flesh.  He  no  more  thought  of 
throwing  them  off,  than  of  getting  rid  of  his  body. 
Complicated  devotions  completed  this  work  of 
routine;  in  the  palaces  of  Sejjid  Said  the  five  daily 
prayers  of  the  truly  faithful  took  up  more  than 
three  hours. 

Nothing  equals  the  narrowness  of  the  system, 
unless  it  be  its  power.  For  more  than  ten  cen- 
turies it  has  fashioned  human  brains,  which  have 
become  like  impregnable  fortresses,  whole  nations 
which  would  give  up  life  rather  than  one  iota  of 
their  belief.  It  has  succeeded  in  confining  human 
thovight  in  limits  so  strict  and  so  sacred  that 


Memoirs  of  an  Arab  Princess  177 

Princess  Salme  affirms  that,  with  us,  there  is 
nothing  but  impious  infidehty,  falsehood,  and 
utter  discontent.  She  is  convinced  that  our  ex- 
cess of  education  is  the  great  misfortune  of  civ- 
ihsed  nations,  a  greater  calamity  even  than  our 
terrible  climate,  than  the  health-destroying  oc- 
cupations of  Northerners,  than  the  dispiriting  dry- 
ness of  European  hearts.  Why  do  we  not  realise 
it?  "You  prize  education  and  science  above  all 
things.  Then  you  wonder  that  piety,  respect, 
veneration,  righteousness,  and  content  are  sacri- 
ficed to  pitiless  warfare,  frightful  atheism,  con- 
tempt of  all  institutions,  human  and  divine!  .  .  . 
How  much  better  it  would  be  to  teach  rather  the 
word  of  God  and  his  holy  commandments,  and  to 
waste  less  time  in  arguing  on  force  and  matter." 
In  her  own  case  she  was  never  more  deceived, 
more  robbed,  more  entirely  at  the  mercy  of  vil- 
lains and  charlatans,  than  since  she  had  taken  to 
studying  and  had  become  an  "enlightened  per- 
son," living  in  an  "enlightened"  society.  At 
Zanzibar,  she  knew  the  golden  age;  Berlin  could 
offer  her  nothing  but  the  iron  age.  "O  happy 
people  of  my  country!"  she  exclaims,  "you  could 
never  guess  the  real  meaning  of  holy  civilisation ! ' ' 
We  are  bold  indeed  when  we  talk  pityingly  of 
savages  and  of  barbarous  nations!  We  are  really 
full  of  self-sufficiency  when  we  start  out  to 
"enlighten  by  force"  people  who  are  our  equals 
and  who  despise  us  from  the  bottom  of  their 
hearts. 


178  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

A  Mahometan  is  bound  to  despise  us.  The  ideal 
held  before  him  by  his  reUgion  is  not  very  high, 
and  he  attains  to  it  easily.  He  cannot  measure 
the  height  of  ours,  since  he  is  incapable  of  rising 
above  his  own  ideas.  What  he  sees  is  our  vain 
effort  to  reach  our  ideals  and  our  repeated  and 
shameful  failures.  He  is  bound  to  condemn  us. 
This  is  the  case  with  Sejjid's  daughter.  In  her 
training  as  a  civilised  being,  she  noticed  only  the 
stones  and  the  mud  of  the  road,  never  the  goal 
toward  which  it  led.  She  could  not  understand 
that  our  stumblings  were  but  the  accidents  in- 
herent to  a  struggle  upward,  that  the  rallying  cry 
of  our  suffering  masses,  guilty  though  they  may 
often  be,  is  yet,  through  all  sorrow  and  short- 
comings, Sursum  cor  da!  She  understood  only  that 
we  do  evil  without  wishing  to  do  it,  that  we  do 
not  accomplish  the  good  after  which  we  yearn, 
and  she  affirms,  without  the  reserve  of  her  pages 
on  marriage,  the  moral  bankruptcy  of  Christian 
civilisation.  A  remnant  of  prudence  keeps  her 
from  attributing  it  to  our  religion ;  she  accuses  our 
education,  but,  in  reality,  to  her  they  mean  one 
and  the  same  thing.  It  comes  to  this;  that  our 
churches,  unlike  her  own,  have  not  been  able  to 
combine  the  direction  of  the  mind  with  the  gov- 
ernment of  the  soul.  She  attacks  our  vain  science 
as  the  mother  of  nearly  all  the  woes  of  our  corrupt 
and  soured  society ;  with  our  miseries  and  our  dis- 
cords, she  compares  the  smiling  picture  of  an 
Arab  woman's  life  at  Zanzibar.     And  this  is  the 


Memoirs  of  an  Arab  Princess  179 

very  creature  whom  we  regard  as  one  of  the  most 
degraded  and  ill-treated  of  human  beings. 


Ill 


We  have  seen  the  background  of  the  Arab 
woman's  happy  life.  It  is  brilliant  and  gay,  if  a 
little  discordant.  The  high-ceilinged  rooms  of 
Bet-il-Mtoui  and  Bet-il-Sahel  were  uniformly 
whitewashed  and  curtainless.  They  had  none  of 
the  exquisite  soft  tones  and  hushed  intimacy  of 
Haoua's  room,  Haoua,  the  beautiful  Moorish 
woman,  whose  arms  were  firm  and  cold  as  marble, 
whom  Eugene  Fromentin  knew  and  whose  tragic 
death  he  described  in  Une  annee  dans  le  Sahel. 
A  sun  more  intense  shone  on  cruder  colours,  on 
a  richer  and  more  barbarous  scene.  The  walls 
were  divided  into  panels  by  niches  which  ran 
up  to,  the  ceiling.  Shelves  of  painted  wood  were 
placed  in  the  niches  and  were  laden  with  plates 
and  gaily  decorated  porcelain,  vases,  glasses,  and 
decanters  of  cut  and  engraved  crystal,  a  favour- 
ite luxury  with  the  inhabitants  of  Zanzibar, 
bought  at  any  price.  Between  these  dressers 
were  placed  low  divans,  above  which  were  hung 
mirrors  of  European  make,  surmounted  and  sur- 
rounded by  clocks  of  every  conceivable  form  and 
style;  this  is  another  favourite  luxury;  some  rich 
Arab  houses  remind  one  of  a  clockmaker's  shop. 

The  hostess's  place  is  marked  by  a  medde,  a 


i8o         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

sort  of  mattress  covered  with  cushions;  the  head 
of  this  lounge  is  against  the  wall.  In  the  comer 
is  a  large  Indian  bed,  curiously  inlaid,  so  high  that 
one  reaches  it  after  the  fashion  of  an  Amazon 
springing  to  the  saddle,  one  foot  placed  on  the 
hand  of  a  slave.  Here  and  there  small  coffers  of 
rosewood,  studded  with  hundreds  of  little  brass 
nails,  contain  the  wardrobe,  the  jewels,  and  per- 
fumes. Doors  and  windows  are  left  open  for  the 
sake  of  air;  violent  odours,  made  up  of  all  known 
perfumes,  a  great  clatter  of  footsteps,  voices, 
laughter,  and  quarrelling,  arise  from  the  courts 
and  stairways.  Showy  and  tumultuous,  strange 
and  picturesque,  joyous  and  disquieting  —  such 
are  those  homes  which  certainly  we  should  not 
envy,  but  which  doubtless  are  not  easily  for- 
gotten. 

The  women's  garments  are  of  barbaric  splen- 
dour. They  wear  a  robe  both  scanty  and  flow- 
ing, that  does  not  drape  the  figure,  and  leaves  the 
lines  uncertain.  It  takes  from  a  woman  all  that 
could  reveal  her  sex;  a  stronger  objection  could 
scarcely  be  made. 

There  are  narrow  trousers,  made  of  bright 
coloured  silk,  which,  by  dint  of  flounces  and  em- 
broidery, reach  the  ankles;  then  a  high-necked 
chemise,  with  narrow  half -long  sleeves,  falls  above 
the  trousers  and  is  of  a  violently  different  hue — 
emerald  green  on  red,  blue  pn  yellow,  pink  on 
orange,  gold  on  purple,  silver  on  violet.  This 
chemise  is  made  of  brilliant  and  costly  materials, 


Memoirs  of  an  Arab  Princess  i8i 

brocades  of  gold  and  silver,  heavy  satins  figured 
with  flowers  and  arabesques  of  many  tints,  heavy 
Lyons  velvets,  soft  China  silks.  During  the  ex- 
cessive summer  heat,  painted  linens,  many- 
coloured  cottons,  India  muslins,  are  preferred  to 
silks.  But  of  whatever  fabric  the  garment  is 
made,  it  is  covered  with  embroideries,  with  orna- 
ments of  every  description,  trimmed  with  lace, 
tassels,  bits  of  gold  or  silver,  tufts  of  flossy  silk, 
metal  buttons,  jewels,  glass  ornaments,  in  a  word 
with  numberless  sparkling  things  that  tremble, 
tinkle,  dance,  and  shimmer  at  every  movement. 
Several  strings  of  necklaces  fall  on  the  bosom. 
The  arms  are  heavy  with  bracelets  that  reach  up 
to  the  elbow.  Immense  rings  are  on  every  finger. 
The  head  is  covered  with  startling  kerchiefs, 
much  ornamented  with  knots  of  ribbon  that  hide 
the  forehead  to  the  eyebrows;  heavy  fringes,  sur- 
rounding the  face,  complete  the  headgear;  long 
ribbons  on  which  are  sewn  sequins  and  pieces  of 
gold  studded  with  jewels,  hang  down  the  back. 

Princess  Salme  has  placed  her  photograph  as 
frontispiece  to  her  Memoirs.  For  this  occasion 
she  chose  a  comparatively  simple  toilette,  in  spite 
of  which,  her  little  brown  face  seems  crushed  with 
finery.  One  sees,  however,  two  piercing  black 
eyes,  a  large  mouth  with  a  melancholy  pout,  and 
two  pretty  little  bare  feet,  plump  and  well  shaped. 
All  the  rest  is  half  hidden  under  a  mass  of  orna- 
ments. 

It  was  no  easy  matter  to  obtain  all  these  sump- 


1 82         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

tuous  costumes.  In  those  days  there  were  but 
few  shops  at  Zanzibar,  and  no  native  industries. 
The  slaves  made  and  ornamented  the  garments. 
Their  mistress  did  not,  on  occasion,  disdain  to 
embroider  or  to  make  lace.  Hindoo  workmen, 
established  in  the  island,  fashioned  some  of  the 
jewels.  The  remaining  trinkets  and  the  dress 
materials  were  brought  often  from  afar.  To  Sejjid 
Said  himself  fell  the  care  of  providing  his  harems 
with  their  innumerable  wants;  his  own  families 
first  of  all,  with  the  children  and  slaves;  those 
of  his  sons,  grandsons,  of  his  great-grandsons;  of 
his  sons-in-law,  their  sons  and  grandsons,  with 
their  children  and  slaves.  He  also  sent  presents 
to  his  numerous  married  descendants  and  to 
shoals  of  poor  relations  in  Arabia.  Think  of  hav- 
ing to  please  a  hundred  or  so  women,  and  what 
women!  women  with  but  one  occupation  in  the 
world, —  their  clothes.  The  pomatum  question 
took  the  proportions  of  a  state  affair,  for  the  dis- 
content of  a  harem  is  not  to  be  despised.  Plots  are 
hatched  behind  barred  windows,  elsewhere  than 
in  tragedies,  as  we  shall  see  in  the  course  of  this 
narrative. 

The  old  sultan  would  have  been  kept  busy 
enough  in  distributing  the  necessaries  of  life  to 
all  his  women,  but  the  sarari  and  their  daughters 
required  more  of  him.  He  was  expected  to  pro- 
cure for  them  the  newest  stuffs,  the  fashionable 
colour,  and  many  curious  objects  which  perhaps 
never  existed  except  in  the  Abyssinian  imagina- 


Memoirs  of  an  Arab  Princess         183 

tion.  This  extraordinary  man  accomplished  this 
miracle.  Every  year  a  fleet  left  Zanzibar  loaded 
with  African  products.  As  soon  as  the  vessels 
had  sailed  out  to  sea  each  took  a  different  direc- 
tion. Some  went  to  Marseilles  or  England,  others 
to  the  Persian  Gulf,  the  ports  of  India  and  of 
China.  Each  captain  carried  with  him  a  list  of 
commissions,  very  minutely  described,  which  he 
was  to  execute,  taking  the  money  of  his  products 
to  pay  for  what  he  bought.  Woe  to  him  if  he 
did  not  find  what  was  not  findable! 

The  return  of  the  fleet  was  the  great  event  of 
the  year.  It  was  a  time  of  greed,  of  merciless 
rivalries,  of  bitter  jealousies.  As  soon  as  the 
vessels  were  emptied,  the  distribution  began,  made 
by  the  eunuchs  under  the  direction  of  the  sultan's 
elder  daughters.  The  princess  of  the  fairy  tale, 
condemned  to  unravel  a  room  full  of  tangled  skeins 
of  thread,  had  not  before  her  a  more  terrible  task. 
It  will  be  easy  to  judge  of  this  by  giving  a  single 
item.  Every  Arab  woman  of  quality  uses  five 
hundred  dollars'  worth  of  perfumery  in  a  year. 
It  would  be  wearisome  to  calculate  what  this  sum, 
multiplied  by  the  hihi,  the  sarari,  and  the  kihibi 
of  the  imperial  family,  represented  in  the  way  of 
little  pots,  bottles,  scent  bags,  essences,  powders, 
oils  and  pomatums,  perfumed  with  amber,  musk, 
benjoin,  basilic,  jessamine,  geranium,  rose,  ver- 
bena, mignonette,  vanilla,  lavender.  And  this 
provision  had  to  be  distributed  without  favouring 
or  cheating  any  one.     Then  came  the  stuffs,  to 


184         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

be  given  by  the  piece;  laces,  and  all  that  a  woman 
can  manage  to  sew  on  her  garments  to  embellish 
them;  jewels  and  all  sorts  of  ornaments  that  give 
to  an  Arab  woman  the  aspect  of  a  Neapolitan 
Madonna  on  feast  days;  the  children's  playthings, 
the  gewgaws,  the  trifles  so  dear  in  Eastern  eyes, 
useful  objects  which  more  mature  persons  had 
requested,  pocket  money  for  presents,  charities, 
and  the  telling  of  fortunes,  for  the  sorceress,  the 
seer,  and  the  magician  who  puts  illness  to  flight 
or  exorcises  the  possessed. 

At  last  all  is  ready.  That  portion  of  the  goods 
destined  for  later  occasions  has  been  carried  to 
the  chambers  of  the  treasury.  The  first  day  of 
the  distribution  —  it  lasted  three  or  four  days  — 
is  announced.  Impatience,  joy,  anguish  are  at 
their  height  in  the  harems,  and  the  dawn  shines 
on  many  a  stormy  face.  At  Bet-il-Sahel  at  sun- 
rise all  is  bustle  and  confusion.  The  doors  are 
besieged  by  the  women  who  are  quartered  outside 
the  palace.  Arab  etiquette  forbids  them  to  show 
themselves  in  full  day,  and  it  was  still  dark  when 
they  started.  The  rising  sun  showers  rose  and 
gold  tints  on  the  brilliant  groups  as  they  pass 
through  the  big  door,  not  to  recross  the  threshold 
until  nightfall.  They  are  received  by  the  crossest 
of  all  the  sultan's  slaves.  Said  the  Nubian.  Sejjid 
Said  greatly  favoured  this  gray-bearded  servant, 
who  was  to  him  devoted  and  submissive.  The 
children  hated  him  and  their  mothers  shrank  from 
him,  for  he  received  them  but  ill.     These  early 


Memoirs  of  an  Arab  Princess         185 

visits  exasperated  him.  He  could  be  heard  grum- 
bling in  his  beard,  as  he  took  up  his  big  keys, ' '  that 
for  the  last  hour  he  had  been  on  his  poor  old  legs, 
opening  the  door  for  the  ladies!"  The  children 
hid  his  keys,  out  of  spite;  he  would  have  to  look 
for  them  in  the  hundred  rooms  where  he  might 
have  left  them,  and  this  did  not  improve  his 
temper. 

At  last  the  door  is  opened,  and  the  crowd 
gathered  in  the  great  court  of  the  palace.  In 
comparison,  that  of  Bet-il-Mtoui  was  a  temple  of 
peace.  Princess  Salme  once  saw  in  Germany  a 
comic  opera  which  reminded  her  "faintly"  of 
Bet-il-Sahel  on  the  day  of  distribution.  This 
comparison  is  a  glorious  one  for  the  German  comic 
stage,  for  it  is  not  easy  to  reproduce  even  "faintly" 
so  tremendous  a  confusion  of  sounds.  A  corner 
of  the  court  served  as  slaughter  house.  Butchers 
killed  according  to  the  Mahometan  rites,  accom- 
panying each  thrust  with  the  formula:  "In  the 
name  of  God,  the  all-merciful."  On  the  eve  of 
feast  days,  the  blood  of  the  slaughtered  animals 
covered  the  ground  to  the  inexpressible  horror  of 
the  Hindoos  whose  business  called  them  to  the 
place.  A  little  further  was  the  children's  comer, 
where  their  nurses,  negresses  for  the  most  part, 
told  them  such  frightful  stories  that  they  all  had 
the  nightmare.  Further  still  was  the  kitchen,  in 
the  open  air  at  the  foot  of  a  pillar;  this  was  the 
place  of  all  others  for  the  distributing  of  boxes 
on  the  ear;  here  there  were  many  quarrels  and 


1 86         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

fights.  From  this  kitchen  came  repasts  in  com- 
parison of  which  the  wedding  feast  of  Gamache 
was  but  a  doll  dinner.  Oxen,  cows,  sheep,  goats, 
gazelles,  were  roasted  whole.  "Fish  were  often 
brought  so  large  that  two  powerful  negroes  were 
required  to  carry  them.  The  smaller  fish  came 
by  baskets  full,  and  fowls  by  the  dozens.  Flour, 
rice,  sugar,  were  brought  by  the  wholesale,  and  the 
butter,  which  came  melted  from  the  North,  was 
in  large  earthen  jars."  Long  processions  of  car- 
riers hurled  down  baskets  of  fruit,  half  of  which 
was  in  consequence  spoiled.  One  came  across 
barbers,  plying  their  trade  in  the  open  air,  water- 
carriers,  and  busy  eunuchs.  The  newcomers  el- 
bowed their  way  into  the  court  and  up  the  stair- 
cases as  best  they  could,  but  it  often  took  them 
half  an  hour  to  reach  the  first  landing,  so  great 
was  the  crush. 

At  last  the  solemn  hour  when  the  year's  gifts 
are  to  be  divided  has  arrived.  Quantities  of 
eunuchs  carry  the  parcels,  and  the  last  moments 
of  expectation  seem  never-ending.  But  the  time 
comes,  as  do  all  moments  in  this  world,  whether 
they  are  desired  or  feared.  It  has  come.  It  has 
gone.  Cries  and  laughter  are  heard;  the  parcels 
are  opened  and  the  fabrics  shaken  out;  calls  are 
heard,  each  woman  rushes  to  the  others,  for  now 
come  the  bartering  and  exchanging,  each  one 
seeking  to  get  as  many  fringes,  laces,  and  orna- 
ments as  possible  for  her  costumes,  and  sacrificing 
whole  pieces  of  goods  for  that  purpose.     The  floor 


Memoirs  of  an  Arab  Princess  187 

is  littered  with  silks  and  satins,  or  with  gewgaws; 
the  squatting  women,  with  their  great  scissors, 
work  with  such  a  will  that  they  often  cut  into 
their  own  clothes.  Anger  and  despair  are  rife  and 
find  vent  in  no  measured  terms.  The  harem  does 
not  recover  its  usual  aspect  for  two  whole  weeks. 

The  sultan  disposes  of  the  remaining  treasures 
at  the  end  of  the  great  fasting  time.  All  know 
that  the  Ramadan  lasts  thirty  days,  during  which 
it  is  forbidden  to  swallow  anything  until  the  sun 
has  sunk  behind  the  horizon.  "It  is  permitted," 
says  the  Koran, ' '  to  eat  and  drink  until  the  moment 
when  one  can  distinguish  a  white  thread  from  a 
black  one.  From  that  moment  strict  fasting  must 
be  observed  until  night."  In  the  city  of  Zanzibar 
the  cannon  announced  the  second  when  a  white 
thread  could  be  distinguished  from  a  black  one: 
"He  who  is  putting  a  morsel  to  his  mouth,"  add 
the  Memoirs,  "lets  it  drop  instantly.  He  who 
has  raised  a  glass  to  quench  his  thirst,  puts  it 
down  without  having  tasted  a  drop  of  water." 
Until  the  evening,  a  faithful  Mahometan  "must 
not  on  purpose  swallow  his  saliva."  Under  that 
flaming  sky  the  privation  of  water  during  fourteen 
or  fifteen  hours  is  no  small  penance. 

With  the  Mussulmans  as  with  the  Christians, 
fasting  is  not  the  same  for  all.  The  rich  make 
arrangements  with  Heaven,  and  for  the  mighty 
of  Zanzibar  the  Ramadan  was  a  carnival.  The 
slaves  and  other  poor  devils  who  worked  hard 
really  fasted.     It  would  have  been  a  public  scandal 


1 88         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

to  see  an  unfortunate  negro,  sweltering  and  work- 
ing under  the  whip,  swallow  a  few  drops  of  water. 
The  rich  and  high  born  remembered  that  the 
prophet  had  said  with  regard  to  fasting:  "God 
requires  your  welfare,  not  your  fasting."  They 
slept  during  the  day,  and  feasted  all  night.  The 
harems  of  Sejjid  Said  were  by  no  means  austere; 
the  nights  of  Ramadan  were  a  perpetual  carouse. 

Fasting  was  broken  by  a  collation  of  fruits, 
immediately  followed  by  a  copious  dinner,  which 
was  but  the  prelude  to  -feasting  which  lasted  till 
daybreak.  Women  sang  their  slow-dragging 
songs,  improvisers  declaimed  before  an  over -ex- 
cited audience  that  never  ceased  eating  and 
drinking.  At  midnight,  once  more  the  cannon 
woke  the  army  of  cooks  and  scullery  boys,  fires 
were  once  more  kindled  in  the  court,  and  the 
odour  of  cooking  filled  the  galleries,  bright  with 
many-hued  lanterns.  Between  three  and  four 
o'clock  was  served  the  supper,  or  suhur.  The 
nurses  woke  the  little  ones  asleep  here  and  there 
on  the  matting  or  the  divans,  and  feasting  began 
again  until  the  cannon  stopped  the  morsel  on  its 
way  to  the  mouth.  The  harem,  gorged  and 
happy,  slept  during  the  heat  of  the  day,  the  gar- 
ments, according  to  the  Eastern  custom,  not  even 
thrown  off. 

In  spite  of  this  easy  sort  of  penance,  the  end 
of  the  Ramadan  is  eagerly  watched  for  by  the 
rich  as  well  as  by  the  poor,  for  it  brings  with  it 
the  giving  of  presents,  a  distribution  of  alms,  and 


Memoirs  of  an  Arab  Princess  189 

tiniversal  rejoicings.  The  Ramadan  ends  when 
the  new  moon  is  just  discernible,  a  transient 
vision,  as  the  deUcate  crescent  disappears  with 
the  sun.  As  soon  as  twiUght  falls,  all  eyes  in 
Zanzibar  watch  for  the  young  moon  on  the 
dimmed  horizon.  Slaves  are  sent  up  to  the  top 
of  cocoanut  trees.  The  lucky  possessors  of  marine 
glasses  are  besieged  by  would-be  borrowers. 
When  the  Ramadan,  which  each  year  is  advanced 
eleven  days,  falls  in  the  rainy  season  and  the  sky 
is  covered  with  clouds,  the  f asters  probably  take 
the  moon  on  faith.  However  that  may  be,  a 
last  boom  of  the  cannon  salutes  the  liberating 
satellite,  and  an  immense  cry  of  joy  arises  from 
the  city  toward  the  sky,  filling  the  air  with  happy 
shouts.  Horsemen  gallop  about  the  country, 
announcing  the  good  news.  Passers-by  stop  to 
congratulate  each  other,  friends  exchange  wishes 
of  happiness,  foes  are  reconciled. 

The  night  that  followed  the  end  of  the  fast  was 
always  an  agitated  -one  in  the  harems.  Every 
woman  had  prepared  three  new  outfits  for  the 
three  days  of  festivities,  and  could  not  wait  for 
daylight  to  try  the  effect  of  this  finery.  At  four 
o'clock  in  the  morning  they  were  ready.  The 
soles  of  their  feet  and  the  palms  of  their  hands 
were  freshly  tinted  with  henna,  of  a  bright  orange 
hue.  They  were  so  perfumed  that  it  was  enough 
to  make  one  faint.  "An  Occidental  woman," 
says  Princess  Salm6,  "would  have  as  much  diffi- 
culty in  realising  the  amount  of  perfiunes  used 


ipo  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

during  those  three  days,  as  an  Eastern  one  of 
understanding  the  amount  of  beer  consumed  in 
Berhn  during  the  feast  of  Pentecost."  Sarari 
and  kihihi  left  their  rooms,  running  one  to  the 
other,  to  enjoy  the  surprise  and  admiration,  or 
the  spite,  of  friend  and  foe.  One  can  imagine  the 
looks  exchanged.  Before  seven  o'clock  the  whole 
palace  was  like  "a  huge  ball  room,"  where  it  was 
difficult  to  force  one's  way. 

Sejjid  Said  went  to  perform  his  devotions  at  the 
mosque.  On  his  return  he  allowed  his  hand  to 
be  kissed,  and  then  directed  his  steps  toward  the 
treasure  chambers,  followed  by  his  favourite 
daughter,  the  beautiful  Chole,  and  the  giant 
Djohar,  chief  of  the  eunuchs. 

Chole,  surnamed  morning  star,  was  the  marvel 
of  Zanzibar,  the  pearl  of  the  imperial  palaces,  the 
apple  of  her  father's  eye.  Her  beauty  was  un- 
equalled, her  temper  sweet  and  gay.  The  sultan 
adored  her  and  confided  to  her  the  key  of  the 
treasure  room.  So  much  favour,  such  peerless 
grace,  could  not  remain  unpunished;  innocent 
Chole  was  the  object  of  ferocious  hatred.  An 
imprudence  of  her  father's  proved  fatal  to  her. 
Sejjid  Said,  wishing  to  give  her  a  proof  of  his 
tenderness,  placed  a  diamond  tiara  on  her  head. 
After  his  death,  Chole  perished  by  poison.  But 
this  is  anticipating. 

All  three  entered  the  treasure  rooms,  followed 
by  many  an  envious  glance.  The  venerable  po- 
tentate had  taken  the  trouble  to  ask  each  surie 


Memoirs  of  an  Arab  Princess  191 

and  princess  what  she  particularly  desired.  Chole, 
incapable  of  petty  vengeance,  refreshed  his  mem- 
ory, and  Djohar  wrote  down  the  names  on  each 
parcel.  Surely  a  Mahometan  is  blessed  with  more 
patience  than  a  Christian,  as  he  also  is  endowed 
with  greater  discretion  and  gravity.  The  slaves 
intrusted  with  the  care  of  carrying  the  presents, 
often  brought  them  back  with  audacious  mes- 
sages of  refusal.  Sejjid  Said  took  the  rejected 
parcels  and  exchanged  them  for  others.  "And 
so  each  one  usually  obtained  what  she  desired." 
Yet,  on  that  day,  the  sultan  had  other  things  to 
do  besides  contenting  the  inmates  of  his  harems. 
He  also  made  presents  to  the  masculine  members 
of  his  family;  "to  all  the  great  Asiatic  and  African 
chiefs  who  happened  to  be  at  Zanzibar;  to  the 
public  functionaries;  to  the  soldiers  and  their 
officers;  to  the  sailors  and  their  captains;  to  the 
stewards  of  his  forty-five  plantations;  and  finally 
to  all  his  slaves,  the  number  of  which  exceeded 
six  or  eight  thousand.  Naturally,  the  presents 
were  in  proportion  to  the  rank  of  those  who  re- 
ceived them;  the  slaves,  for  example,  received 
common  stuffs."  Is  not  all  this  wonderful?  Can 
one  help  admiring  the  thoughtfulness  of  this 
patriarch,  the  intelligence,  the  order,  that  pro- 
vided varied  presents  for  fifteen  thousand  per- 
sons, from  the  sale  of  elephants'  teeth,  spices, 
copal  gum,  and  the  seeds  of  sesame?  "This 
proves  that  our  father  was  an  excellent  business 
man,"  adds  his  daughter  with  legitimate  pride. 


192         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

From  year's  end  to  year's  end,  his  indulgence 
made  life  in  the  harem  easy  and  free  enough. 
After  the  family  breakfast  he  went  down  to  the 
great  hall  on  the  ground  floor,  and  there  gave 
audience.  The  windows  of  the  palace  immedi- 
ately showed  innumerable  women  who  looked  at 
the  men  who  entered,  and  watched  for  "signs 
visible  only  to  themselves."  Masks  and  shutters 
are  useless  when  a  woman  wants  to  be  seen.  The 
following  story  proves  it. 

The  crowd  of  men  before  the  palace  noticed  a 
young  chief  of  Oman,  who  stood  in  an  attitude 
of  ecstasy  such  as  painters  attribute  to  martyrs. 
His  hand  held  a  spear,  the  iron  of  which  pierced 
his  foot,  and  his  upturned  face  was  full  of  beati- 
tude. The  divinity  he  thus  adored  was  of  the 
earth;  it  was  Chole,  looking  out  of  a  window;  her 
resplendent  beauty  had  bereft  him  of  his  senses. 
The  bystanders  had  to  warn  him  that  he  was 
wounded.  It  was  enough  that  he  had  seen  and 
been  seen. 

Two  or  three  hours  were  thus  spent  in  making 
remarks  about  the  outsiders,  and  that  was  very 
interesting.  Princess  Salme  became  acquainted 
with  many  German  doctors.  Their  conversation 
was  a  bleak  desert  compared  to  the  "extraordi- 
narily amusing  and  savoury  conversations ' '  at  the 
Bet-il-Sahel  windows.  Western  people  imagine 
that  an  Eastern  beauty  loses  her  time  in  idleness. 
Their  error  comes  from  not  discerning  between  the 
noble  leisure  of  an  aristocrat  and  the  guilty  lazi- 


Memoirs  of  an  Arab  Princess         193 

ness  of  the  common  herd.  There  are  on  earth 
more  interesting  and  refined  occupations  than  the 
sordid  cares  of  a  German  housekeeper.  Princess 
Salme  grows  irritated  at  constantly  hearing  Berlin 
and  Hamburg  dames  ask  "how  in  her  country 
people  can  exist  doing  nothing?"  This  question 
proves  that  Northern  Germany,  in  spite  of  its 
pretensions  and  hobbies,  has  lost  all  real  notion  of 
aristocratic  life.  An  Arab  lady  has  slaves  who 
work  for  her,  and  who  must  be  beaten  when  they 
grow  lazy.  As  to  herself,  she  looks  out  of  the 
window  exchanging  sharp  reflections  with  her 
friends,  and  she  no  more  calls  that  "doing 
nothing"  than  did  Queen  Eleanor  of  Guyenne,  or 
beautiful  Laura  of  Noves,  when  they  presided  over 
their  courts  of  love.  The  tedious  activity  of  a 
citizen  of  Bremen  is  an  estimable  thing  in  its  way, 
but  such  work  does  not  suit  all  blood  or  all  souls. 
God  created  the  European  eager  for  gain,  and  the 
negro  despicable,  so  that  the  Arab  might  sleep 
in  the  shade  when  he  is  not  fighting. 

Prudent  mothers  feared  the  harem  windows, 
and  advised  their  daughters  not  to  go  near  them. 
They  knew  that  few  husbands  regarded  even  the 
appearance  of  freedom,  with  the  serene  indul- 
gence which  old  age  had  given  to  the  wise  Sejjid 
Said.  They  themselves  avoided  the  windows, 
and  spent  the  day  visiting  each  other  or  em- 
broidering. The  more  learned  read  novels.  It 
would  be  interesting  to  know  what  were  these 
novels,   belonging  to  what  period  and  to  what 


194  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

country,  and  how  much  of  them  the  Zanzibar 
Highnesses  understood.  Of  all  this  the  Memoirs 
tell  us  nothing. 

Toward  one  o'clock  each  one  retired  to  a  shady 
nook  for  rest.  The  harem  ladies  stretched  them- 
selves in  great  comfort,  and  spent  the  time  de- 
lightfully, nibbling  at  fruit  and  cakes,  chatting 
and  sleeping.  Then  came  elaborate  dressing,  and 
the  kihihi  went  to  dine  with  the  sultan.  They 
listened  to  the  barrel  organ ;  but  the  real  pleasures 
began  with  the  night.  Many  visitors  came ;  there 
was  more  chattering,  card  parties  were  organized, 
sweets  offered,  negro  music  listened  to.  These 
entertainments  were  a  good  deal  like  ours,  except 
that  no  one  spoke  of  the  weather.  Princess  Salme 
declares  that  this  subject  of  conversation  was  new 
to  her  when  she  came  to  Europe,  and  she  makes 
great  fun  of  us  for  the  importance  we  attach  to 
it.  Those  who  did  not  receive  visits  made  them. 
The  safari  and  the  Highnesses  went  out  calling, 
accompanied  by  a  resplendent  escort. 

First  came  a  slave  bearing  lanterns.  One  rec- 
ognised the  qualities  of  the  ladies  by  the  number 
and  dimensions  of  the  lanterns.  The  largest 
measured  two  yards  in  circumference,  and  showed 
five  cupolas  "after  the  style  of  a  Russian  church." 
A  noble  lady  had  six  of  these  carried  on  long 
poles  by  six  men,  chosen  for  their  great  strength. 
After  these,  two  by  two,  walked  twenty  slaves 
richly  clothed,  and  bearing  weapons  inlaid  with 
gold  and  silver.     They  pushed  aside  the  pedes- 


Memoirs  of  an  Arab  Princess  195 

trians,  whom  etiquette  forced  to  take  refuge  in 
the  shops,  in  side  streets,  or  in  the  houses.  The 
Zanzibar  rabble,  rude  as  such  crowds  are  every- 
where, often  rebelled  and  were  not  easily  dis- 
persed, except  by  the  much  dreaded  slaves  of  the 
imperial  palace.  After  them  walked  their  mis- 
tress, swathed  up  to  the  eyes  in  a  sort  of  long 
black  silk  cloak,  bordered  with  gold  or  with  some 
coloured  trimming ;  this  drapery  was  called  a  Scheie; 
the  feet  were  incased  in  red  leather  boots  much 
embroidered  and  high-heeled.  An  Arab  woman 
of  inferior  rank  accompanied  her,  and  the  proces- 
sion was  closed  by  many  female  slaves  in  their 
most  showy  accoutrements.  The  brilliant  troop 
walked  with  dignity  along  the  narrow  and  crooked 
streets  until  it  met  a  friend's  escort;  the  meeting 
is  always  a  noisy  one;  the  chatter  and  exclama- 
tions are  heai;d  above  the  clashing  of  arms ;  many 
curious  faces  show  themselves  from  the  doors  and 
windows  of  the  neighbouring  houses  and  from  the 
top  of  the  terraces.  The  walk  to  the  friend's 
abode  is  then  resumed  with  much  noise  and  con- 
fusion, the  whole  population  becoming  interested 
in  it.  ''We  could  have  been  tracked,"  say  the 
Memoirs,  "long  after  our  passage  by  the  strong 
and  heavy  perfumes  which  filled  the  streets."  At 
midnight  each  one  regained  her  home  with  the  con- 
viction that  the  day  had  been  well  and  usefully 
employed.  "It  is  thus  made  clear,"  says  Princess 
Salm^,  "that  it  is  a  calumny  to  accuse  Eastern 
women  of  doing  nothing."     Very  clear,  certainly! 


196  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

From  time  to  time  the  peace-loving  Sejjid  Said 
was  teased  by  a  portion  of  his  harem  for  a  hohday 
on  one  of  his  plantations.  At  last  the  good  man 
yielded.  Women  and  girls  started  at  daybreak, 
mounted  on  big  white  donkeys  and  surrounded  by 
crowds  of  runners,  of  parasol  holders,  of  eunuchs 
on  horseback,  of  soldiers,  living  panoplies,  each 
carrying  a  lance,  a  gun,  a  shield,  a  sabre,  and  a 
dagger.  As  soon  as  the  town  was  left  behind, 
the  runners  whipped  up  the  donkeys,  and  the 
whole  band  started  off  at  a  mad  pace,  unmindful 
of  the  shrill  calls  of  the  eunuchs.  It  was  a  tor- 
nado, a  cyclone,  a  general  scattering,  so  that  the 
plantation  was  reached  in  little  groups,  a  thing 
quite  against  the  laws  of  etiquette.  No  one 
knows  the  meaning  of  earthly  happiness  who  has 
not  tasted  the  enchanting  life  of  a  harem  in  the 
country.  The  women  gave  themselves  indiges- 
tions from  morning  to  night.  There  were  num- 
berless visits.  Under  the  trees  there  was  perfect 
liberty.  Games,  laughter,  fireworks,  and  concerts 
made  the  time  fly.  A  part  of  the  night  was  passed 
out  of  doors  in  the  sweet,  scent-laden  air.  Groups 
of  women,  whose  eyes  and  whose  jewels  gleamed 
in  the  darkness,  were  formed  under  the  giant 
trees  or  in  some  clearing,  where  slaves  and  Hin- 
doos in  white  garments  danced  by  moonlight. 
These  divine  nights  are  characterised  by  a  very 
European  and  literary  word,  which,  written  by  a 
kibibi,  produces  a  singular  effect:  "Such  evenings," 
she  says,  "are  most  romantic." 


Memoirs  of  an  Arab  Princess  197 

As  she  tells  of  these  marvels,  her  poor  little 
heart  bleeds.  Exiled  by  her  own  imprudence  in 
a  hard,  false,  rapacious,  and  hypocritical  world, 
she  can  find  strength  to  endure  the  present,  only 
by  remembering  the  past.  Against  the  sorrows 
that  weigh  upon  her,  against  the  thorns  with 
which  civilisation  has  "abundantly  strewn  the 
path  of  her  life,"  the  poor  creature  has  but  one 
means  of  defending  herself:  "the  sacred  memory 
of  her  country  and  of  her  family."  She  exclaims 
with  eloquence:  "Each  day  I  bask  in  that  sun- 
shine." Now  it  is  time  to  relate  how  her  great 
misfortune  fell  upon  her. 


IV 


Sejjid  Said,  at  long  intervals,  journeyed  to 
Mascat,  so  as  to  put  some  order  in  his  kingdom 
of  Oman.  Salme,  nearly  grown  up,  saw  him 
leave  for  one  of  these  expeditions.  He  took  with 
him  some  of  his  daughters  and  two  favourite 
sarari.  The  government  of  his  harems,  as  well  as 
that  of  Zanzibar,  devolved,  according  to  custom, 
upon  one  of  his  sons,  called  Chalid,  an  excellent 
Mahometan,  whose  first  care  was  to  reestablish 
discipline  in  the  feminine  herd  intrusted  to  his 
care.  Farewell  to  indulgence  and  to  weakness! 
Chalid  knew  the  law,  as  had  been  seen  during  a 
conflagration  at  Bet-il-Sahel. 

This   happened    during   one   of   his   regencies. 


198  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

The  fire  began  in  the  daytime,  at  an  hour  when 
an  Arab  lady  should  not  be  seen  outside  of  her 
home.  The  immense  population  of  Bet-il-Sahel, 
wild  with  terror,  flying  from  the  flames,  struggling 
madly,  choked  up  the  doors.  The  crowd  found 
all  the  issues  closed  and  guarded  by  soldiers. 
Chalid  had  but  one  idea  when  the  fire  broke  out: 
he  respected  law  too  thoroughl}^  to  permit  his 
sisters  and  stepmothers  to  be  seen  outside  in 
broad  daylight.  The  fire  was  extinguished,  luckily 
for  them.  If  it  had  not,  it  would  have  gone  hard 
with  the  poor  creatures.  Perish  the  harem  rather 
than  a  principle!  Chalid  was  ill-rewarded  for  his 
fidelity  to  the  precepts  of  the  Koran.  His  two 
daughters  became  the  leaders  of  the  movement 
for  female  emancipation  in  Zanzibar. 

The  week  preceding  the  departure  of  the  old 
sultan  was  a  strenuous  one  for  his  womenfolk. 
These  ladies  took  advantage  of  the  opportunity 
to  send  news  to  their  families  of  Oman,  and  in  a 
harem  nothing  equals  the  difficulty  of  letter-writ- 
ing, even  for  those  who  know  how  to  write.  Those 
who  need  an  amanuensis  and  who  are  not  allowed 
to  see  him,  employ  a  negro  as  interpreter.  It  was 
necessary  to  teach  the  words  to  the  negro,  who 
repeated  them  to  the  scribe.  This  scribe  was 
already  struggling  with  about  a  dozen  other 
letters.  The  negro  fuddled ;  the  scribe  likewise 
fuddled,  and  the  result  was  not  at  all  what  was 
first  intended.  The  negro's  mistress,  in  despair, 
would  send  him  for  another  writer,  then  again 


Memoirs  of  an  Arab  Princess  199 

for  a  third  and  a  fourth ;  but  the  result  was  always 
the  same.  When  the  fleet  was  ready  to  sail,  the 
only  thing  left  to  do  was  to  choose  among  the 
different  versions  that  which  was  least  foreign  to 
the  author's  purpose. 

A  heavy  weariness  followed  these  efforts.  Three 
years  passed  without  bringing  back  the  fleet.  It 
returned  at  last,  carrying  a  corpse.  Sejjid  Said 
had  died  during  the  homeward  voyage.  His  sons 
and  daughters  divided  the  plantations  and  the 
treasures  among  themselves.  The  sarari  without 
children  received  enough  to  live  upon,  according 
to  the  testament,  and  each  went  his  or  her  way, 
leaving  the  place  free  for  the  harem  of  the  new 
sultan,  Mad j id. 

What  now  happened  does  not  argue  in  favour 
of  polygamy,  despite  all  Princess  Salme  can  say 
for  it.  As  soon  as  the  head  of  the  family  had 
disappeared,  his  children  turned  against  each  other 
with  the  same  fury  that  had  characterised  their 
mothers,  the  sarari.  Brothers  became  odious  to 
their  brothers,  sisters  to  their  sisters.  A  mania 
of  suspicion  and  spying  took  possession  of  them, 
even  of  gentle  Salm6.  This  impious  hatred  en- 
gendered very  ugly  acts  and  ill  usages  without 
end.  The  only  one  who  escaped  the  contagion 
was  Madjid,  the  successor  of  Sejjid  Said.  All  that 
he  gained  by  his  moderation  was  a  plot,  of  which 
one  of  his  sisters  was  the  leading  spirit.  Princess 
Salm^  allowed  herself  to  become  entangled  in  it, 
and  these  two   cloistered  young  girls   prepared  a 


200         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

revolution  which  was  to  dethrone  the  sultan  in 
favour  of  one  of  his  brothers.  The  conspiracy 
was  discovered,  and  the  pretender  besieged  in  his 
palace,  taken  and  banished.  The  sultan  pardoned 
the  two  women,  but  he  could  not  give  them  back 
the  slaves  armed  against  his  soldiers,  and  killed 
in  the  fight.  They  were  thereby  greatly  impov- 
erished; it  was  a  loss  of  capital,  a  financial  catas- 
trophe. On  the  other  hand,  public  opinion  was 
against  them,  and  the  two  sisters  were  sent  to 
Coventry.  There  were  no  more  visits,  no  more 
joyous  entertainments,  no  more  invitations;  the 
very  bric-k-brac  merchants  no  longer  crossed  their 
threshold.  Life  became  intolerable.  Disgusted 
and  repentant,  Princess  Salm6  went  into  the  coun- 
try. On  her  return,  Herr  Ruete  made  his  appear- 
ance. 

He  was  young,  and  he  came  at  the  right 
moment.  His  house  was  built  against  that  of 
the  princess.  From  terrace  to  terrace,  they  saw 
each  other,  became  interested  in  each  other,  loved 
each  other.  We  have  said  that  Herr  Ruete 
represented  a  Hamburg  firm.  It  was  scarcely 
to  be  expected  that  the  sultan  would  look  upon 
this  brother-in-law  with  a  favourable  eye.  The 
lovers  resorted  to  the  classical  elopement.  A  first 
attempt  failed.  England  most  opportunely  fa- 
voured a  second.  British  politics  are  full  of  mys- 
teries. It  suited  Great  Britain  that  a  German 
merchant  should  scandalise  the  nation  by  marry- 
ing a  Mahometan  princess,  daughter  of  the  vener- 


Memoirs  of  an  Arab  Princess         201 

ated  Sejjid  Said.  English  agents  were  mixed  up 
in  the  affair:  a  captain  of  the  royal  navy,  trans- 
formed for  the  occasion  into  a  Figaro,  carried  off 
this  brown  Rosina  by  night.  She  was  taken  on 
board,  and  the  vessel  at  once  sailed  for  Aden, 
where  Princess  Salme,  duly  baptised  and  married, 
became,  for  the  rest  of  her  days,  Frau  Ruete. 

She  had  no  fault  to  find  with  her  husband,  — 
far  from  it;  but  Herr  Ruete  was  crushed  by  a 
tramway  after  three  years  of  matrimony.  She 
remained  alone,  terrified  and  dazed  by  a  life  too 
complicated  and  too  difficult  for  her.  Habit 
keeps  us  from  feeling  the  weight  of  civilisation. 
It  cheats  us  as  to  the  veritable  effects  of  intricate 
organizations,  of  ingenious  inventions  accumu- 
lated about  us  during  centuries.  We  fancy  that 
progress  lightens  our  life  and  breaks,  one  by  one, 
the  chains  with  which  our  ignorance  and  our  sim- 
plicity had  weighted  us  at  the  beginning.  The 
truth  is  very  different.  Each  new  discovery  adds 
to  our  needs;  each  new  idea  augments  the  worry 
and  the  fatigue  of  our  mind;  each  step  forward 
contributes  to  the  weight  of  our  burden.  We 
have  no  right  to  complain  of  this;  the  labour  is  in 
proportion  with  the  good  obtained.  But  we  can 
easily  imagine  the  terror  of  a  primitive  creature 
for  whom  our  aspirations  are  a  sealed  letter,  feel- 
ing herself  suddenly  caught  among  the  wheels  and 
clogs  of  that  powerful  machine  —  a  civilised 
nation.  Ex-princess  Salme  had  the  impression 
that  she  was  being  crushed.     In  her  suffering  she 


101         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

asked  herself  whether  she  had  concluded  a  good 
bargain  in  exchanging  her  semi -barbarous  nation 
for  glorious  Germany.  She  balanced  the  two 
kinds  of  life,  compared  the  social  arrangements, 
the  material  comforts,  the  two  moralities,  then 
compared  herself  with  the  ignorant  kihihi  of  other 
days.  The  result  of  this  meditation  we  have 
given  little  by  little,  and  it  amounted  practically 
to  this:  In  Zanzibar,  there  is  happiness  because 
neither  the  institutions  nor  the  sentiments  de- 
ceive; in  Europe,  there  are  shams  everywhere, 
and  one  is  surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  despairing 
beings,  who  complain  that  they  have  been  tricked 
by  false  promises  of  justice,  virtue,  and  happiness. 
We  must  take  into  account,  —  and  this  is  to  her 
honour, — that  she  might  have  attempted  to 
deceive  us.  She  might  have  painted  her  youthful 
companions  with  conventional  colours  and  have 
proposed  them  to  our  admiration.  We  should  not 
have  believed  her,  but  our  judgment  might  have 
hesitated.  This  she  did  not  do.  Frau  Ruete 
veiled  the  unpleasant  aspects  of  her  subject  like 
a  delicate  and  refined  lady ;  her  Memoirs  do  not 
once  allude  to  vice,  and  Heaven  knows  that  vice 
exists  in  harems.  She  has  been  frank  enough  as 
to  the  rest,  to  make  us  consider  this  boasted  Eden 
as  a  veritable  hell,  and  she  knows  perfectly  what 
our  opinion  is;  only  she  endeavours  to  persuade 
us  that  we  are  wrong,  and  that  in  Zanzibar  lies 
perfect  happiness.  This  little  Arab  woman  is  very 
brave.     For  instance,  she  knows  that,  in  Europe, 


Memoirs  of  an  Arab  Princess         203 

slavery  is  condemned.  She  insinuates  that  phil- 
anthropy has  less  to  do  with  all  this  virtuous 
indignation  than  politics,  which  is  very  possible. 
However  that  may  be,  she  takes  the  defence  of 
slavery,  with  reasonings  that  are  in  no  way  hypo- 
critical and  are  all  the  stronger  for  that;  hers  are 
excellent  reasons,  practical  and  frankly  egotis- 
tical. 

Since  the  Arab  does  not  work,  it  is  necessary 
that  some  one  should  work  for  him,  and  who 
could  do  this,  if  not  the  negro  ?  He  is  very  happy 
with  his  Mahometan  master,  very  superior  to  the 
Christian  slave-holder.  He  is  beaten,  that  is  true, 
but  through  his  own  fault,  his  grievous  fault. 
Why  is  he  lazy?  A  negro  has  no  right  to  the 
aristocratic  privilege  of  doing  nothing,  and  the 
only  reasoning  which  he  is  capable  of  understand- 
ing is  the  reasoning  of  the  lash.  It  is  necessary 
to  whip  him  —  and  after  all,  what  is  that  to  make 
such  a  fuss  about  ?  Europeans,  living  in  the  East, 
imagine  great  tragedies  because  they  hear  much 
howling.  The  truth  is  that  ''negroes  are  cowards 
who  do  not  know  how  to  endure  physical  pain 
quietly."  They  make  "a  horrible  noise"  for  a 
few  blows;  foreign  consuls  interfere,  and  the  true 
victims  are  the  Arabs,  who  are  being  ruined,  and 
who  "regret  with  all  their  might  the  happy  days 
when  they  were  free  from  subversive  European 
ideas."  In  reality,  the  Zanzibar  slaves  are  very 
happy.  The  foreign  consuls  take  good  care  not 
to  speak  of  the  look  of  happy  content  on  the 


204-         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

slaves'  faces  when  they  are  not  punished,  of  the 
kindness  with  which  they  are  encouraged  to  in- 
crease and  multiply,  of  the  touching  care  taken 
of  the  infants,  those  "perquisites  of  the  master." 
The  consuls  and  the  European  merchants  also 
only  speak  of  the  evil.  Yet  they  themselves  buy 
yellow  and  black  women  by  whom  they  have 
little  ones,  and  sell  off  the  whole  lot  when  they 
leave  the  country.  A  Mahometan  would  never 
be  guilty  of  such  a  thing. 

The  sufferings  of  slaves  driven  in  herds  from 
their  land  are  great,  and  many  die  on  the  road. 
Frau  Ruete  understands  the  pity  with  which  they 
inspire  us ;  she  shares  it,  says  so,  and  then  suddenly 
amazes  the  reader  by  a  perfectly  new  point  of 
view.  She  asks  the  good  ladies  who  belong  to 
anti-slavery  societies  and  knit  woollen  stockings 
for  people  who  go  about  quite  naked,  to  reserve 
a  little  of  their  compassion  —  for  whom  do  you 
think?  I  give  you  a  hundred  guesses,  a  thou- 
sand .  .  .  for  the  drivers  of  those  herds!  These 
are  honest  traders  who,  perhaps,  have  put  all 
their  fortune  in  this  venture,  who  share  the  fatigues 
of  the  slaves,  are  thirsty  and  weary  with  them, 
who  are  ruined  when  the  negroes  die  on  the  way 
—  and  of  whom  no  one  thinks,  except  to  curse 
them.  A  Christian  really  has  no  sense  of  justice, 
and  he  has,  furthermore,  lost  all  sense  of  shame 
about  work;  it  is  therefore  useless  to  expect  of 
him  an  equitable  judgment  on  the  slave  question. 
Let  slavery,  at  least,  be  suppressed  little  by  little, 


Memoirs  of  an  Arab  Princess         205 

leaving  the  Arab  leisure  to  seek  for  some  new 
expedient.  As  to  the  grotesque  fancy  that  the 
kings  of  creation  could  ever  themselves  be  sub- 
jected to  the  law  of  work,  let  that  be  abandoned. 
For  her  part,  Princess  Salme  would  never  advise 
her  equals  to  bow  their  heads  to  so  degrading  a 
law.  She  has  too  grievously  suffered  from  it  her- 
self: German  business  men  have  ruined  her,  and 
she  has  been  condemned  to  a  mean  and  mortify- 
ing sort  of  life. 

At  one  time  she  thought  of  returning  to  her 
own  country,  but  that  she  did  not  dare  to  do. 
In  the  spring  of  1875,  she  had  a  gleam  of  hope. 
She  saw  by  the  papers  that  her  brother  Sejjid 
Bargasch,  Sultan  of  Zanzibar,  was  preparing  to 
visit  England.  It  was  for  him  that  she  had  con- 
spired, sending  her  best  slaves  to  their  death  and 
incurring  disgrace  for  herself ;  were  she  to  implore 
his  help,  he  could  not  turn  from  her.  Then,  the 
English  government  that,  so  kindly,  had  lent  a 
war-ship  to  further  her  little  romance,  could  not 
now  turn  against  her.  She  hastened  to  London, 
and  saw  that  she  had  not  been  forgotten.  But 
British  diplomacy  now  found  it  expedient  to 
efface  the  remembrance  of  an  incident,  painful 
to  the  self-love  of  a  friendly  power.  There  was 
not  the  slightest  necessity  to  treat  Frau  Ruete 
with  consideration.  She  was  given  somewhat 
brutally  to  understand  that  the  English  govern- 
ment by  no  means  wished  "to  annoy  a  royal 
guest  with  unpleasant  private  affairs."     He,  how- 


2o6  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

ever,  promised  many  fine  things  for  her  children, 
if  she  would  only  quietly  return  to  Germany  with- 
out attempting  to  see  her  brother.  She  believed 
in  his  good -will,  went  back,  received  nothing,  and 
lost  ''all  faith  and  confidence  in  men."  Deprived 
henceforth  of  hope,  reduced  to  "a  situation  that 
the  most  cruel  person  would  not  wish  to  inflict 
on  his  enemy,"  the  poor  kibibi,  born  to  look 
vaguely  out  of  the  window  and  to  eat  sweetmeats, 
took  up  her  chain  with  dumb  despair.  ''I  was," 
says  she,  "more  like  an  automaton  than  a  living 
being."  It  was  at  this  time  that,  for  her  chil- 
dren, she  wrote  her  Memoirs.  These  poor  little 
creatures  were  probably  destined  likewise  to  suffer, 
and  it  was  well  that  they  should  not  imagine  that 
the  whole  world  was  ugly  and  dull,  for  fear  they 
might  become  like  those  impious  beings,  known 
in  civilised  lands  as  pessimists,  who  rebel  against 
God  and  blaspheme  his  work.  Their  mother's 
duty  was  to  speak  to  them  of  the  warm  and  gen- 
erous country  of  her  happy  youth,  of  its  good  and 
just  inhabitants,  and  of  the  happiness  which  they 
enjoyed. 

When  her  task  was  completed  she  once  more 
took  up  her  pen  to  relate  a  last  event  which  had 
filled  her  with  joy,  but  the  result  of  which  was 
most  lamentable.  In  1885  she  heard  that  the 
German  government,  acquainted  with  her  ardent 
desire  to  revisit  her  native  land,  had  ordered  a 
ship  to  take  her  on  board,  and  give  a  last  joy  to 
a  sentimental  widow.     Naturally,  politics  were  at 


Memoirs  of  an  Arab  Princess         207 

the  bottom  of  this  kindness.  Germany  was  turn- 
ing its  attention  to  Eastern  Africa,  and  was  glad 
to  show  the  natives  that  it  possessed  a  sultan's 
daughter,  while  England  had  none  to  offer.  The 
minister  of  foreign  affairs  sent  Princess  Salme  to 
the  Zanzibar  squadron,  making  use  of  her  as  of 
an  advertisement.  The  officers  exhibited  her  to 
the  natives,  who  received  her  with  noisy  enthu- 
siasm. The  English  consul,  furious  at  such  tac- 
tics, complained  to  Sejjid  Bargasch.  The  sultan 
treated  the  popular  enthusiasm  with  many  lashes 
and  succeeded  only  in  augmenting  it.  Frau  Ruete 
saw  neither  relatives  nor  friends;  she  received  not 
a  penny  of  the  sixteen  inheritances  which  she 
claimed;  but  she  was  treated  to  many  hurrahs! 
and  the  Germans  took  her  back,  half  crazed  with 
acclamations'  and  sunshine,  her  heart  overflowing 
with  gratitude  toward  her  Teutonic  benefactors. 

By  Christmas  she  was  at  home  again,  and  has- 
tened to  add  a  glowing  postscript  to  her  Me- 
moirs. Yet,  behold !  in  the  midst  of  her  hymn  of 
joy,  a  bitter  feeling  reveals  itself.  In  beholding 
her  country  with  her  Christianised  eyes,  she  no 
longer  saw  it  as  perfect;  things  which,  in  olden 
times,  she  had  not  even  noticed,  now  shocked  her; 
others  excited  her  indignation,  because  she  was  no 
longer  accustomed  to  them.  What  is  more  natural 
than  that  an  Eastern  potentate  should  attribute 
to  himself  property  which  is  to  his  taste?  Sejjid 
Bargasch  acted  according  to  this  right,  and  his 
sister  considers  him  as  a  mere  robber.     What  can 


2o8  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

be  more  desirable  than  to  maintain  discipline  in 
one's  family?  Sejjid  Bargasch,  with  his  own  hand, 
administered  fifty  blows  to  a  sister  whom  he  sus- 
pected of  loving  without  his  permission,  and  Frau 
Ruete  calls  him  a  brutal  tyrant.  What  more 
imperious  duty  than  for  a  worthy  disciple  of  the 
Prophet  to  enforce  the  laws  of  decency  in  his 
harem?  Sejjid  Bargasch,  having  discovered  his 
favourite  at  the  window,  exchanging  signs  with  a 
European,  lashed  her  to  such  good  purpose  that 
she  died  of  it.  Frau  Ruete  cries  out  with  horror: 
' '  Afterwards  he  caused  prayers  to  be  said  on  the 
grave  of  his  victim."  No  doubt  this  conduct  on 
the  part  of  the  sultan  is  worthy  of  praise ;  having 
rendered  justice,  he  sought  to  save  the  soul. 

Frau  Ruete,  having  lost  her  sense  of  the  Ma- 
hometan world,  had  not  acquired  that  of  ours. 
This  is  what  she  understands  after  her  triumphant 
voyage  of  1885:  "I  had  left  my  native  land," 
she  writes,  "Arab  from  head  to  foot  and  a  good 
Mahometan.  What  am  I  now?  A  bad  Chris- 
tian, and  only  half  a  German." 

All  this  proves  and  confirms  what  we  already 
knew:  there  is  incompatibility  of  nature  between 
us  and  the  Arab.  Neither  time,  nor  politics,  nor 
missionaries  will  ever  change  this.  Whether  we 
accuse  the  race  or  the  religion,  it  matters  little. 
Antipathy  exists,  and  will  exist  throughout  future 
generations,  for  it  cannot  disappear.  Princess 
Salme,  during  twenty  years,  puzzled  over  the  fact 
that  she  did  not  love  us;  she  is  still  seeking  to 


Memoirs  of  an  Arab  Princess         209 

solve  the  problem,  whereas  every  page  of  her 
Memoirs  gives  us  that  solution.  We  are  irrec- 
oncilable because  we  attribute  different  meanings 
to  such  expressions  as  human  dignity  and  moral 
sense;  because  our  conceptions  of  the  task  and 
destiny  of  humanity  clash  too  violently;  because 
our  watchwords  are  in  direct  opposition  one  to 
the  other.  The  Arab's  watchword  is  Inertia;  ours 
is  Forward.  The  two  races  have  nothing  in 
common. 


THE    DUCHESS    OF    MAINE 

The  Duchess  of  Maine  died  not  a  century  and 
a  half  ago.'  Our  great-grandfathers  may  have 
known  her,  may  have  capped  verses  with  her, 
and  danced  ballet  steps  on  her  private  stage  at 
Sceaux.  Yet,  as  we  study  her  life,  it  seems  as 
though  we  were  separated  from  it  by  hundreds 
of  years.  Her  world  differed  in  every  particular 
from  ours.  The  princes  and  princesses  of  her  day 
were  singularly  unlike  those  of  our  time,  not  only 
in  the  opinion  of  the  public,  but  in  their  own  as 
well.  They  were  very  proud  of  being  what  they 
were;  very  well  satisfied  with  themselves.  The 
Duchess  of  Maine  is  apart  even  from  her  peers 
by  the  excess  of  her  pride  of  birth  and  of  her  self- 
complacency.  For  this  reason  she  deserves  to  be 
chosen  as  an  example  of  a  princess  who  enjoyed 
a  semi-royal  state  during  the  eighteenth  century. 
Moreover,  we  are  fully  informed  as  to  all  that 
concerns  her.  She  was  much  in  the  thought  of 
her  contemporaries;  there  are  no  Memoirs  and 
few  letters  of  the  day  in  which  she  is  not  men- 
tioned. 

I 

Anne  Louise  Benedicts  de  Bourbon,  born 
in  1676,  was  the  granddaughter  of  "Monsieur  le 

'  This  essay  was  written  in  1890. 
210 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  211 

Prince,  the  hero/"  as  it  was  then  the  custom  to  call 
the  Great  Cond^.  Her  father,  simply  Monsieur  le 
Prince,  was  a  very  thin  little  man  with  eyes  of  fire 
which  lighted  up  his  face.  He  had  all  the  wit  that 
a  man  could  possess,  much  natural  valour,  and  a 
great  desire  to  distinguish  himself,  vast  learning, 
exquisite  politeness,  and  infinite  charm  of  manner 
when  he  was  in  society  and  was  forced  to  control 
himself.  A  grain  of  eccentricity  rendered  all  these 
precious  gifts  useless.  He  was  a  man  full  of  ca- 
price and  passion.  He  changed  his  ideas  from  min- 
ute to  minute,  and  all  his  household  was  bound  to 
follow  his  lead.  He  willed  a  thing,  then  willed  the 
reverse;  a  voyage  was  decided  upon,  then  counter- 
manded; all  were  ordered  to  receive  communion, 
and  no  one  di(i ;  it  was  supposed  that  supper  would 
be  served  at  Ecouen,  and  it  was  eaten  in  Paris; 
every  day  four  dinners  were  prepared  in  four 
different  towns,  and  no  one  knew,  in  the  morning, 
which  would  be  eaten.  It  happened  once  that 
Monsieur  le  Prince,  fifteen  consecutive  days, 
started  with  his  wife  for  Fontainebleau,  and 
fifteen  consecutive  times  changed  his  mind  before 
he  reached  the  end  of  the  street.  On  the  other 
hand,  he  would  put  the  princess  in  a  coach  when 
she  least  expected  it,  and  take  her  travelling 
without  a  word  of  explanation. 

His  avarice  has  become  a  tradition,  and  yet 
no  man  could  be  more  lavish  when  the  fit  was  on 
him.  He  dined  off  half  a  chicken,  the  other  half 
of  which  was  served  the  next  day,  but  he  spent 


i\i  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

millions  in  fancies  and  gallantries  to  embellish 
Chantilly  and  to  dazzle  beautiful  ladies.  When 
he  was  in  love  —  and  that  often  happened  —  he 
was  a  theatrical  hero  and  showered  gold  on  the 
object  of  his  passion.  Nothing  was  too  expensive, 
and  he  outdid  Scapin  in  the  fertility  of  his  imagi- 
nation. He  would  disguise  himself  as  a  lackey 
or  as  a  female  dealer  in  cast-off  garments.  He 
would  hire  and  fit  up  all  the  houses  on  one  side 
of  a  street,  so  as  to  pierce  the  walls  and  thus 
reach,  without  being  seen,  the  house  which,  at 
that  moment,  interested  him.  At  home,  where  he 
was  not  amorously  inclined,  he  was  insupport- 
able, a  fantastic  and  avaricious  tyrant.  Saint- 
Simon  affirms  that  he  used  to  beat  his  wife.  At 
any  rate,  he  was  brutal  to  her  in  words  and  cruelly 
oppressed  her. 

We  have  spoken  at  some  length  of  Monsieur  le 
Prince,  because  his  daughter  Anne  Louise  was  a 
good  deal  like  him,  whereas  she  in  no  way  re- 
sembled her  mother.  Monsieur  le  Prince  had 
married  a  daughter  of  Edward  of  Bavaria,  Prince 
Palatine  of  the  Rhine,  and  of  that  Anne  of  Gou- 
zagne-Cleves  who  played  a  part  in  the  Fronde. 
Madame  la  Princessewas  a  poor,  defenceless  crea- 
ture, small  and  ugly,  somewhat  hump-backed 
and  misshapen,  with  the  gentleness  and  patience 
of  an  angel,  not  clever,  but  most "  pious  and 
virtuous.  Her  husband  made  of  her  a  sort  of 
puppet ;  he  pulled  a  string  and  she  came  or  went, 
got  up  or  sat  down,  looked  gay  or  sad,  without 


DUCHESSE    DU    MAINE 
After  the  portrait  by  Staal 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  213 

knowing  why ;  without  daring  to  ask  for  any  ex- 
planation. 

This  small  couple  had  ten  children,  most  of 
whom  died  in  childhood.  Of  the  five  that  re- 
mained, one  alone  consented  to  grow  a  little;  this 
was  Marie  Therese  who  became  Princess  of  Conti. 
All  the  others  remained  so  tiny,  so  very  tiny, 
that  they  seemed  a  family  of  pygmies.  The  Great 
Conde  said  that  if  his  family  went  on  dwindling, 
there  would  soon  be  nothing  left  of  it.  In  point 
of  fact,  a  little  more  and  the  Cond^  palace  might 
have  been  mistaken  for  the  kingdom  of  Lilliput 
—  a  dismal  Lilliput,  governed  by  an  ogre.  The 
terrible  Monsieur  le  Prince  was  the  ogre.  He 
always  seemed  in  search  of  fresh  meat,  and  his 
children's  one  desire  was  to  escape  from  him. 
The  daughters  most  ardently  desired  husbands, 
all  the  more  that  their  father  seemed  in  no  hurry 
to  provide  them  with  that  commodity.  The  eld- 
est, the  one  who  had  consented  to  grow  a  little, 
was  already  two  and  twenty  when  she  married 
her  cousin  the  Prince  of  Conti.  The  three  younger 
girls  fluttered  with  hope  and  fear  when  they 
learned  that  the  Duke  of  Maine  thought  of  them, 
and  that  their  father  desired  his  alliance. 

The  bridegroom  so  eagerly  expected  was,  how- 
ever, not  a  very  glorious  one  for  the  grand- 
daughter of  the  Great  Conde.  He  was  the  second 
of  the  nine  children  whom  Madame  de  Montespan 
had  presented  to  Louis  XIV ;  children  hidden  in 
the  beginning,  by  degrees  shown  at  Court,  then 


214  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

recognised,  finally  allowed  in  1680  to  bear  the 
name  of  Bourbon.  Their  rapid  fortune,  which 
promised  yet  greater  advancement,  had  scandal- 
ised France  even  at  a  time  when  all  the  king  did 
was  looked  upon  as  admirable  and  sacred.  Mon- 
sieur le  Prince  chose  to  shut  his  eyes  to  all  except 
the  solid  advantages  which  unions  with  the  "legit- 
imated ' '  children  could  not  fail  to  offer.  He  had 
already  married  his  son,  Monsieur  le  Due,  to  a 
sister  of  the  Duke  of  Maine.  When  he  heard  that 
the  duke  w^as  seeking  for  a  wife,  he  offered  his 
daughters. 

It  is  well  known  that  the  Duke  of  Maine  had  a 
club-foot,  and  that  his  childhood  had  been  sickly. 
His  eldest  brother  had  died  at  three  years  of  age. 
He  himself  was  saved  by  the  tender  care  of  Ma- 
dame de  Maintenon,  then  simple  governess  in 
Madame  de  Montespan's  household.  Madame 
de  Maintenon  loved  this  child  all  the  more  for 
the  trouble  he  had  given  her.  According  to  Saint- 
Simon,  she  felt  for  Monsieur  du  Maine  "a  nurse's 
foible."  She  used  to  say,  speaking  of  him, 
"my  heart's  tenderness."  She  consulted  num- 
berless doctors  about  him,  even  going  incognito 
to  Antwerp  to  show  her  nursling  to  a  celebrated 
physician.  This  happened  in  1674.  The  child, 
four  years  old,  had  one  leg  longer  than  the  other. 
If  we  can  believe  Madame  de  Caylus,  niece 
of  Madame  de  Maintenon,  the  Antwerp  treat- 
ment resulted  in  making  the  short  leg  longer 
than  the  other  one,  so  that,  in  any  event,  the  little 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  215 

prince  must  have  limped  had  he  walked;  but  he 
could  not  walk.  The  baths  of  Bareges  at  last  put 
him  on  his  feet,  but  did  not  prevent  the  halting. 
This  and  his  puny  appearance  made  him  extraor- 
dinarily timid,  both  physically  and  mentally. 

As  a  child,  he  was  full  of  malice,  wit,  and  intel- 
ligence. Later  he  was  studious;  his  mind  was 
active  and  bright.  At  seven  years  of  age  he  was 
looked  upon  as  a  little  prodigy,  and  his  com- 
positions and  letters  were  published  under  the 
title:  Various  Works  of  a  Seven-year -old  Author. 
This  volume  has  by  way  of  preface  an  epistle  in 
honour  of  the  king  and  of  Madame  de  Monte- 
span,  composed  by  Racine.  At  the  death  of  the 
great  Corneille,  Monsieur  du  Maine  —  he  was  then 
fourteen  —  would  have  liked  to  replace  him  at 
the  French  Academy.  The  king  refused  his  con- 
sent, not  that  he  considered  the  Various  Works 
an  insufficient  literary  title  to  glory,  but  that  the 
author  seemed  to  him  rather  young.  As  time 
went  on,  Monsieur  du  Maine  grew  yet  fonder  of 
literature.  He  would  have  been  perfectly  happy 
as  a  bookworm,  had  not  the  accident  of  his  birth 
condemned  him  to  attempt  great  and  heroic  deeds. 

He  was  by  no  means  fitted  for  such  deeds. 
His  timidity  remained  insurmountable.  He  was 
quite  incapable  of  being  a  great  warrior  or  of 
reducing  an  antagonist  to  silence.  The  king  and 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  in  vain,  seized  every  op- 
portunity of  making  their  favourite  shine.  They 
could  do  nothing  against  his  nature,  which  had 


2i6  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

destined  the  young  prince  to  pacific  occupations; 
they  only  succeeded  in  making  him  sly.  Monsieur 
du  Maine's  enemies  publicly  accused  him  of  hy- 
pocrisy. A  friend  of  the  family  said,  in  gentler 
terms,  something  which  smacks  of  the  same  judg- 
ment: "His  heart  remained  impenetrable;  dis- 
trust watched  at  its  threshold,  and  but  few  senti- 
ments struggled  through."  ^ 

His  immense  wealth  made  up  for  many  defects. 
As  a  consequence  of  events  which  it  is  needless  to 
recall,  he  had  become  heir  to  the  Grande  Made- 
moiselle. Apart  from  his  birth.  Monsieur  du 
Maine  was  one  of  the  most  brilliant  "catches"  in 
France. 

When  he  first  thought  of  marrying,  Louis  XIV 
tried  to  dissuade  him.  Though  this  son  was  very 
dear  to  him,  he  was  not  blind  to  his  physical  de- 
fects. Besides,  he  saw  the  disadvantages  of  pro- 
longing bastard  branches  of  the  royal  house.  He 
said  rather  brutally  to  the  young  prince  "that  it 
was  not  for  such  as  he  to  seek  for  heirs."  Madame 
de  Maintenon,  now  all  powerful,  pleaded  for  her 
pupil.  "He  is  one  of  those,"  answered  Louis  XIV, 
"who  ought  never  to  marry."  She  insisted,  car- 
ried her  point,  and  looked  about  her  for  a  prin- 
cess. The  daughters  of  Monsieur  le  Prince  struck 
her  as  really  too  small.  The  tallest  was  about 
the  height  of  a  ten-year-old  child,  and  her  three 
sisters  seemed  mere  toys.  Their  sister-in-law,  the 
Duchess  of  Bourbon,  had  nicknamed  them  "dolls 

»  Memoirs  of  Madame  de  Staal-Delaunay. 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  217 

of  the  blood,"  and  this  name  fitted  them  admir- 
ably. Madame  de  Maintenon  wrote  to  her  friend 
the  Abbess  of  Fontevrault:  "The  Duke  of  Maine 
wishes  to  marry,  and  one  does  not  know  whom  to 
give  him.  The  king  would  prefer  a  French  girl, 
even  if  she  were  not  of  very  high  birth,  •  to  a 
foreign  princess.  .  .  .  The  daughters  of  Monsieur 
le  Prince  are  mere  dwarfs;  do  you  know  of  any 
others?"^ 

It  was  quite  useless  for  Madame  de  Maintenon 
to  look  about  her,  for  Monsieur  du  Maine  had 
made  up  his  mind.  The  idea  of  entering  the  house 
of  Conde  was  too  tempting  for  him  to  seek  else- 
where.    Then  came  the  question  of  choice. 

Of  the  three  unmarried  daughters  of  Monsieur 
le  Prince,  the  eldest,  Mademoiselle  de  Cond^,  was 
pretty  and  intelligent.  A  fraction  more  height 
caused  the  duke  to  prefer  the  second,  Anne  Louise. 
Mademoiselle  de  Conde  was  in  such  despair  at 
having  to  remain  under  her  father's  roof,  that  she 
fell  into  a  decline,  dragged  on  for  a  few  years, 
then  died. 

The  bride  elect  walked  on  clouds.  She  was  but 
fifteen  and  a  half,  the  bridegroom  twenty-two. 
Louis  XIV  gave  them  a  royal  wedding.  Tuesday, 
March  the  i8th,  1692,  there  was  a  reception  called 
an  "  appartement "  at  Trianon.  This  "apparte- 
ment"  was  a  great  evening  entertainment,  with- 
out dancing;  it  began  at  seven  o'clock  and  ended 
at  ten.     In  one  of  the  drawing-rooms,  there  was 

*  Letter  of  September  the  27th,  1691. 


2i8         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

music,  refreshments  in  another.  In  the  other 
rooms,  tables  were  prepared  for  every  sort  of 
game.  Entire  hberty  was  allowed  in  these  gath- 
erings, which  we  are  apt  to  think  stiff.  Eti- 
quette was  banished.  Each  one  was  free  to  do 
what  he  or  she  desired,  played  with  no  matter 
whom,  gave  orders  to  the  lackeys  if  a  table  was 
missing  or  a  chair  wanted.  The  king  appeared 
only  for  a  few  minutes,  and  under  the  reign  of 
Madame  de  Maintenon  even  abstained  entirely 
from  showing  himself  at  the  "  appartements. " 
Long  before  1692  he  appeared  only  on  great  occa- 
sions. His  presence,  this  time,  was  all  the  more 
appreciated. 

He  remained  a  long  time  at  the  Trianon  recep- 
tion, and  presided  at  one  of  the  supper  tables. 
The  following  day,  March  the  19th,  the  wedding 
party  waited  on  him  in  his  study  at  Versailles. 
The  procession  was  then  formed  and  proceeded  to 
the  chapel,  where  the  marriage  ceremony  took 
place.  A  banquet  followed  immediately,  then 
came  a  grand  concert,  games,  supper,  and  the  con- 
ducting of  the  newly  married  couple  to  the  nuptial 
chamber,  where  the  young  people  were  at  last 
left  to  themselves,  after  twelve  hours  of  cere- 
mony, of  bowing,  of  compliments. 

On  Thursday,  the  20th,  the  new  duchess  put 
on  fine  clothes  and  lay  on  her  bed.  In  this  way, 
she  received  the  whole  court.  Friday  and  the 
next  days  were  spent  in  festivities  and  rejoic- 
ings.    Madame  de  Maintenon  took  fright,  seeing 


Due   DU    MAINE 
From  an  old  copper  print 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  219 

how  frail  seemed  the  "Httle  doll."  On  Tuesday 
the  25th  she  wrote  to  Madame  de  Brinon,  an 
Ursuline  nun,  who  had  had  a  hand  in  this  mar- 
riage : 

"...  Now  to  speak  of  .  .  .  Madame  du  Maine, 
with  whom  the  king  is  much  pleased,  as  he  is  with 
her  husband.  This  is  the  marriage  which  you  con- 
sidered so  desirable :  so  did  I.  May  God  grant  that 
they  be  always  as  content  as  I  now  am !  They  say 
that  she  is  to  spend  Holy  Week  at  Montbuisson; 
give  her  a  good  rest.  Here  she  is  being  half  killed 
with  the  court  fatigues  and  constraints.  She  is 
weighed  down  with  gold  and  jewels,  and  her  head- 
dress is  heavier  than  all  her  little  person.  Among 
them  they  will  keep  her  from  growing  in  height 
and  health.  She  is  prettier  without  a  cap  than 
with  all  sorts  of  ornaments.  She  scarcely  eats 
at  all,  I  fear  sleeps  but  little,  and  I  am  terri- 
bly afraid  that  she  is  over  young  to  be  married.  I 
should  like  to  have  her  at  Saint-Cyr,  dressed  like 
one  of  the  'green  ribbons'^  and  running  merrily 
in  the  gardens.  There  are  no  austerities  compar- 
able to  those  of  society." 

The  first  week  was  one  of  enchantment  for  every- 
body. Madame  de  Maintenon  rejoiced  over  the 
honeymoon  of  her  dear  pupil,  and  expected  great 
things  from  the  new  duchess,  whom  she  thought  to 
govern  at  her  will.  As  to  this,  she  soon  saw  that 
she  had  counted  without  her  host.  Scarcely  had 
Madame  du  Maine  understood  what  court  life  really 

*  The  "green  ribbons  "  were  the  pupils  of  a  class  for  young  pupils. 


220  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

was,  what  the  king  required  of  all  the  women  who 
surrounded  him,  than  she  took  a  great  resolution, 
and  determined  to  revolt  against  such  abominable 
slavery. 

A  great  court  lady  was  bound  to  be  always  in 
attendance,  always  ready  to  be  pleased  by  what 
pleased  the  king.  She  must  be  hungry  and  thirsty, 
warm  and  cold,  according  to  His  Majesty's  good 
pleasure.  Ill  or  well,  even  with  child,  or  just  after 
child-birth,  she  must  be  superbly  dressed,  low- 
necked  and  bare-headed;  she  must  travel  in  this 
guise  and  endure,  smilingly,  sun,  wind,  and  dust; 
she  must  dance,  sit  up  late,  sup  with  hearty  appe- 
tite, be  gay,  and  look  in  good  health,  all  this  on 
the  days  and  hours  prescribed  by  the  king,  and  at 
a  moment's  notice.  The  journeys  were  the  great- 
est trial  of  all.  Louis  XIV  loved  to  fill  his  im- 
mense carriage  with  women  in  fine  clothes.  Quan- 
tities of  provisions  were  stowed  away  in  it.  No 
matter  what  might  be  the  season,  or  the  weather, 
all  the  windows  were  open,  and  the  curtains  raised, 
because  he  liked  plenty  of  air.  Scarcely  started, 
he  forced  the  ladies  to  eat  "until  they  nearly  ex- 
ploded," says  Saint-Simon.  It  lasted  the  whole 
day  long,  and  none  but  the  king  had  a  right  to 
leave  the  coach ;  at  the  end  of  the  journey,  supper 
had  to  be  eaten  as  though  nothing  had  disturbed 
the  appetites.  Some  of  the  women  came  near 
dying  on  the  road,  and  nothing  but  the  super- 
natural strength  imparted  by  monarchical  faith 
kept  them   alive.     Several    fainted    and   thereby 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  221 

incurred  lasting  disgrace:  it  was  an  unpardonable 
offence. 

Madame  du  Maine  swore  that  nothing  would 
induce  her  to  submit  to  such  tyranny,  and  she  kept 
her  oath.  For  fifteen  years  she  had  endured  the 
cruel  constraint  of  her  father's  palace,  and  she  had 
had  enough  of  it.  She  made  up  her  mind  never 
to  put  herself  out  for  any  one,  and  she  threw  aside 
etiquette,  official  evening  receptions,  moral  con- 
versations with  Madame  de  Maintenon,  journeys 
in  court  dress  and  luncheons  in  the  king's  coach. 
She  did  worse  still,  she  freed  herself  from  the  long 
religious  ceremonies  and  pious  exercises  in  fashion 
since  Louis  XIV  had  become  austere.  August 
13,  1693,  Madame  de  Maintenon  wrote  to  Madame 
de  Brinon,  this  time  in  a  somewhat  sour  strain: 
"There  is  a  chsLpter  which  I  must  discuss  with 
you;  that  of  Madame  du  Maine.  You  deceived 
me  as  to  a  most  important  item;  that  of  piety. 
She  has  no  tendency  toward  it,  and  means  to  do 
like  others.  I  dare  say  nothing  to  a  young  prin- 
cess brought  up  by  virtue  itself,  and  I  have  no 
wish  to  make  of  her  a  professional  devotee,  but 
I  confess  that  I  should  like  to  see  her  more  reg- 
ular in  her  duties,  and  I  should  like  her  to  adopt 
a  kind  of  life  more  pleasing  to  God,  to  the  king, 
and  to  the  Duke  of  Maine,  who  is  sensible  enough 
to  wish  his  wife  better  behaved  than  some 
others." 

Madame  de  Maintenon  then  complained  of  the 
duchess's  want  of  submission,  and  added  so  as  to 


222  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

take  the  sting  out  of  her  reproaches : ' '  On  the  other 
hand,  she  is  such  as  you  represented,  pretty,  amia- 
ble, gay,  witty,  and,  above  all,  much  in  love  with 
her  husband,  who,  for  his  part,  is  passionately 
fond  of  her,  and  would  spoil  her  rather  than  cause 
her  the  slightest  pain.  If  she  escapes  from  me,  I 
shall  know  what  to  expect,  and,  be  persuaded  that 
the  king  will  not,  in  all  his  family,  find  a  single 
member  of  it  who  will  turn  out  well." 

Madame  de  Maintenon  ver}^  soon  "knew  what 
to  expect."  Madame  du  Maine  was  already  out 
of  her  power,  and  it  was  through  a  mere,  fleeting 
illusion,  that  Madame  de  Maintenon  fancied  she 
could  still  hold  her.  This  young  woman  submitted 
to  no  one's  influence,  to  her  husband's  least  of  all. 
He  was  quite  dumfounded  at  the  way  in  which 
she  turned  his  remonstrances  into  ridicule.  She 
warned  her  sisters-in-law  not  to  meddle  with  her 
affairs,  taking  a  "bee"  as  an  emblem  with  these 
words  as  motto:  " Piccola  si,  ma  ja  pur  gravi  le 
ferite.''  ("  She  is  small,  but  she  stings  smartly.") 
As  to  Monsieur  du  Maine,  she  terrorized  him,  and 
held  him  prisoner.  He  dared  neither  breathe  nor 
move  in  his  wife's  presence.  She  was  so  thoroughly 
convinced  of  the  honour  she  had  done  him  by  this 
marriage,  that  the  poor  young  man's  timidity 
grew  apace.  Then  she  flew  into  a  passion  on  the 
least  provocation,  and  of  that  he  had  a  mortal 
terror.  He  made  up  his  mind  never  to  say  her 
nay,  and  to  obey  her  in  all  things.  The  only  one 
who  might  have  turned  her,  was  the  king,  whose 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  223 

glance  sufficed  to  crush  all  the  other  princesses. 
Louis  XIV  probably  feared  to  compromise  his  dig- 
nity by  attacking  this  impetuous  little  person. 
He  prudently  made  his  remarks  to  the  Duke  of 
Maine,  who  answered  that  he  was  quite  power- 
less. "Thus,"  said  Madame  de  Caylus,  "as  she 
had  become  incorrigible,  she  was  left  at  liberty 
to  do  whatsoever  she  chose."  That  was  all  she 
asked. 

The  doll  turned  out  to  be  a  little  she-devil.  No 
one  ever  imagined  such  a  thing,  on  account  of  the 
excellent  discipline  in  Monsieur  le  Prince's  house- 
hold, and  all  were  astonished  to  discover  in  this 
Hop  o'  my  Thumb  of  a  princess,  the  most  enter- 
prising of  women,  the  boldest,  the  wittiest,  the 
most  vivacious  that  ever  existed.  And  what  a 
temper!  "Her  nature  is  impetuous  and  unequal," 
wrote  Madame  de  Staal;  "she  grows  angry,  she  is 
afflicted,  flies  into  a  rage  and  is  appeased  twenty 
times  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  Often,  she  shakes 
off  melancholy,  for  a  fit  of  gaiety  during  which  she 
is  most  amiable."  She  conversed  with  eloquence, 
vehemence,  and  volubility;  the  only  thing  to  do 
in  her  presence  was  to  keep  silence ;  as  a  matter  of 
fac^,  she  never  listened  to  any  one  else.  She  was 
passionate  to  the  verge  of  madness,  and,  above  all, 
she  was  a  little  monster  of  selfishness  and  a  prodigy 
of  vanity.  "  She  believes  in  herself  as  she  believes 
in  God  and  Descartes,  without  discernment  and 
without  discussion." 

She  believed  this,  because  she  was  herself,  and 


224         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

also  because  she  was  persuaded  that  God  chose 
a  particular  sort  of  clay  wherewith  to  fashion 
princes.  They  appear  to  be  like  other  mortals,  but 
that  is  merely  an  appearance.  They  are  demi- 
gods, and  Madame  du  Maine  by  a  special  dispensa- 
tion of  Providence  was  a  little  more  than  a  demi- 
goddess.  Therefore,  she  had  a  right  to  do  what- 
ever she  pleased,  and  she  made  use  of  that 
right.  She  owed  it  to  herself,  on  the  other 
hand,  to  conquer  a  position  worthy  of  her  divin- 
ity, and  she  undertook  to  push  on  her  halting 
husband,  since  he  had  not  the  courage  to  push 
himself. 

By  a  singular  freak  of  nature,  Madame  du  Maine, 
with  all  her  pride  and  haughtiness,  was  born  a 
comic-opera  shepherdess.  One  is  not,  with  impu- 
nity, the  daughter  of  a  prince  who  took  the  garb  of 
a  ''marchande  a  la  toilette.'"  The  little  duchess 
adored  finery  and  conceits,  those  of  the  mind,  as 
well  as  those  of  her  gowns,  gallant  feasts  and  small 
verses.  She  felt  the  need  of  romantic  pleasures, 
a  mythological  life,  a  Parnassus  of  gilt  card-board, 
where,  disguised  as  a  nymph,  she  could  reign  over 
choice  spirits,  decked  out  as  Arcadian  shepherds. 
This  brilliant  and  dangerous  heroine  was,  at  times, 
supremely  ridiculous. 

We  have  seen  that  Madame  de  Maintenon  con- 
sidered her  pretty.  For  her  own  part,  Madame 
du  Maine  was  perfectly  satisfied  with  her  face. 
The  public  was  less  so,  and  Madame  de  Staal,  in  a 
malicious  paragraph,  has  noted  this  difference  of 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  225 

opinion.  "Her  mirror  could  not  give  her  the 
slightest  doubt  as  to  the  charm  of  her  visage,  but 
she  put  less  faith  in  the  verdict  of  her  own  eyes 
than  in  the  judgment  of  those  who  proclaimed 
that  she  was  beautiful  and  well  proportioned." 
According  to  the  portraits  of  the  day,  the  public 
was  right;  Madame  du  Maine  was  no  beauty.  In 
her  first  youth  she  is  represented  with  fine  eyes, 
heavy  cheeks,  a  baby  face,  made  heavier  still  by 
an  immense  edifice  of  hair.  It  is  easy  to  see  how 
she  deceived  others  with  this  goody-goody  coun- 
tenance, which  gave  no  hint  of  the  volcano  which 
she  really  was. 

Later,  her  features  took  shape  and  hardened. 
There  is,  in  the  palace  of  Versailles,  a  portrait  of 
Madame  du  Maine  on  the  verge  of  old  age,  which 
is  cruelly  realistic.  It  is  by  Nattier.  The  duchess 
has  a  dwarf's  face,  massive  and  without  any  grace. 
Her  nose  is  clumsy,  her  mouth  vulgar;  she  has  a 
double  chin  and  coarse  skin.  No  vestige  of  the 
goddess  remains.  But  that  was  in  the  future. 
Just  now,  we  have  to  do  with  a  tiny  person, 
fresh  and  graceful,  who  hides  her  vast  ambition 
under  childish  ways. 

The  nuptial  torches  were  not  yet  extinguished 
when  already  Madame  du  Maine  meditated  as  to 
the  advantage  that  she  might  secure  by  her  un- 
equal marriage.  The  French  court  was  then  a 
fair  field  for  intrigue.  At  that  time  so  many 
things  changed,  that  an  ambitious  spirit  might 
aspire  to  almost  any  position.     The  old  aristo- 


226         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

cratic  society  was  falling  to  pieces.  The  thing 
was  to  pick  up  the  fragments  and  with  them  build 
up  a  pedestal. 

II 

According  to  appearances,  the  reign  of  Louis 
XIV  was  the  apotheosis  of  the  French  aristocracy. 
One  is  deceived  by  the  glamour  and  splendour 
of  the  court;  by  the  brilliant  jests  of  its  deni- 
zens ;  by  their  resounding  quarrels  about  questions 
of  etiquette  which  are  important  only  in  very 
high  circles;  by  the  showers  of  favours  and  gifts, 
of  purses  of  gold,  of  pensions  and  sinecures,  that 
the  king  let  fall  on  his  courtiers ;  lastly,  by  the 
majestic  air  which  the  costumes  and  the  grace  of 
the  day  gave  to  the  most  insignificant  viscount, 
as  we  see  by  the  portraits  and  the  pictures.  When 
we  evoke  the  gilded  galleries  and  drawing-rooms 
of  the  Versailles  palace,  filled  with  these  resplen- 
dent gentlemen,  with  their  voluminous  wigs, 
clothed  in  silk  and  velvet,  glittering  with  gold  and 
jewels,  who  are  absolutely  sure  of  their  own  im- 
portance, one  is  tempted  to  believe  in  it  likewise 
and  to  bow  down  before  them  to  the  very  earth. 

Those  among  them,  however,  who  were  wise, 
knew  what  was  hidden  beneath  all  this  splendour. 
Men  like  the  Duke  of  Chevreuse,  or  of  Beauvil- 
liers,  or  Saint-Simon,  were  not  deceived  by  the 
shimmer  of  vain  honours  and  embroidered  coats. 
They  saw  that  the  high  classes  were  ruined  by 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  227 

stupid  luxury,  and  reduced  "for  the  sake  of 
bread"  to  unworthy  marriages  and  to  still  more 
unworthy  speculations.  They  saw  these  men  use- 
less and  idle,  kept  out  of  the  ministry  and  public 
offices,  given  up  to  all  the  vices  bred  of  laziness. 
They  saw  the  first  dignitaries  of  the  kingdom, 
the  peers,  humbled  on  every  occasion ;  the  majesty 
of  the  royal  blood  compromised  by  the  privileges 
granted  to  the  recognised  bastards;  the  public 
places,  even  the  court  offices,  snatched  by  men  of 
letters  or  magistrates,  who  treated  the  nobles  as 
though  they  were  their  equals.  Colbert,  at  first, 
when  he  wrote  to  the  dukes,  called  them  Mon- 
seigneur,  and  they  replied  Monsieur;  the  reverse 
took  place  under  Louvois.  They,  in  a  word,  saw 
about  them  so  radical  a  change,  at  their  expense, 
that  they  were  aghast  and  yet  were  quite  inca- 
pable of  turning  the  tide. 

Madame  du  Maine  was  one  of  those  who  had 
their  eyes  open.  She  saw  all  the  perturbation 
caused  by  the  progress  of  the  middle  classes,  and 
she  did  not  regret  it;  disorder,  in  the  equivocal 
situation  which  resulted  from  her  husband's  birth, 
was  favourable  to  her.  On  the  very  day  of  her 
engagement,  her  plan  was  already  formed.  In 
life,  she  had  two  objects,  equally  dear  to  her:  one 
was  to  get  out  of  it  as  much  enjoyment  as  pos- 
sible; the  other,  to  become,  wife  of  a  bastard 
though  she  was  to  be,  "one  of  the  kingdom's 
greatest  ladies." 

It  seemed  as  though  the  second  of  these  aims 


228  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

was  likely  to  be  the  more  difficult  of  the  two  to 
obtain.  The  duchess  was  not  of  that  opinion. 
She  counted  upon  the  trampling  down  of  bar- 
riers, and  the  all-powerful  protection  of  Madame 
de  Main  tenon.  It  was  likely  that  the  timorous 
nature  of  Monsieur  du  Maine  would  prove  an 
obstacle.  The  duke  was  of  little  use  at  the  hour 
of  battle.  On  the  other  hand,  he  was  invaluable 
in  small  manoeuvres  and  intrigues,  to  push  his 
way  an  inch  at  a  time,  noiselessly,  so  humbly 
that  no  one  heeded  him.  Eternally  on  the  watch, 
he  allowed  no  chance  to  escape.  Now,  it  was  one 
seat  at  court,  instead  of  another,  the  fashion  of  a 
cloak,  one  bow  less  to  make,  and  all  these  trifles 
brought  him  slowly  but  surely  nearer  the  longed- 
for  rank.  In  his  way  he  was  ambitious,  and  his 
wife  reasoned  that,  by  pushing  him  in,  she  could 
get  some  help  out  of  him.  Therefore  she  had 
faith  in  their  common  future.  The  important 
thing  to  be  accomplished  at  once,  was  enjoyment; 
the  rest  would  come  of  itself  all  in  good  time. 

Unfortunately,  this  important  thing  was  not 
easy  to  obtain.  As  to  the  pleasures  of  the  court, 
they  were  not  even  to  be  considered.  The  king, 
decidedly,  was  turning  virtuous  and  wished  for 
solemn  faces  about  him.  It  was  enough  to  make 
one  die  of  ennui.  It  is  true  that  Madame  du 
Maine  could  go  for  amusement  to  the  castle  of 
Clagny,  built  by  Louis  XIV,  in  less  austere  days, 
for  Madame  de  Montespan,  and  given  by  her  to 
her  son.     Clagny  was  a  wide,   low  construction, 


NICOLAS  DE  MALEZIEU 
From  an  old  copper  print 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  229 

built  in  a  noble  style  and  surrounded  by  a  great 
symmetrical  garden,  ornamented  with  yews  cut  in 
conical  shapes.  It  was  then  looked  upon  as  a 
marvel.  "It  is  a  splendid  castle,"  said  Saint- 
Simon,  "with  its  fountains,  its  gardens,  its  park; 
on  all  sides  are  aqueducts  worthy  of  the  Romans; 
neither  Asia  nor  any  ancient  power  ever  offered 
anything  so  vast,  so  complicated,  so  artistic,  so 
magnificent,  so  filled  with  the  rarest  monuments 
of  every  age,  of  exquisite  marbles,  of  bronzes,  of 
pictiires,  of  statues,  nothing  so  complete."  So 
much  splendour  did  not  save  Clagny  from  one 
radical  defect:  Clagny  was  in  Versailles,  too  near 
the  king.  Its  inhabitants  formed  a  part  of  the 
court,  they  were  still  satellites. 

The  little  duchess  tried  Chatenay,  a  modest 
country-seat  in  the  environs  of  Sceaux.  Chatenay 
belonged  to  Monsieur  de  Malezieu,  ex-tutor  of 
Monsieur  du  Maine  and  the  perfect  model  of  those 
cultivated  men  whom  the  great  in  those  days 
attached  to  their  persons  so  as  to  have  at  hand, 
some  one  to  concoct  their  witticisms,  their  society 
verses,  and  their  love-letters.  Malezieu  had  the 
reputation  of  being  very  learned,  and,  in  Madame 
du  Maine's  household,  he  was  looked  upon  as  an 
oracle.  "His  decisions,"  says  Madame  de  Staal, 
"were  as  infallible  as  those  of  Pythagoras  to  his 
disciples;  the  hottest  disputes  came  to  an  end  if 
some  one  exclaimed,  '  He  said  it.'  "  He  gave  the 
duchess  lessons  in  Latin,  in  philosophy  according 
to  Descartes,  in  astronomy.     For  her  benefit  he 


230  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

declaimed  the  tragedies  of  Sophocles  and  organised 
her  festivities.  He  showed  a  fertile  imagination  for 
verse  or  prose  trifles,  for  the  arranging  of  fireworks 
and  ballets.  He  was  obsequious  with  the  great, 
disdainful  toward  the  humble,  not  bad  at  heart, 
but  of  a  rather  low  nature.  He  was  a  man  both 
universal  and  indispensable.  He  was  also  untiring. 
Fontenelle  speaks  of  his  ' '  fiery  and  robust  temper- 
ament." His  portraits  show  him  with  a  pleasant 
and  open  countenance,  resplendent  with  health. 

In  1699,  when  the  court  was  at  Fontainebleau, 
Madame  du  Maine  conferred  upon  him  the  honour 
of  staying  at  his  country  house.  In  her  character 
of  goddess  she  revived  the  golden  age.  Nothing 
was  thought  of  but  innocence  and  simplicity,  — 
princely  simplicity,  of  course.  ' '  Rustic  Life ' '  was 
led,  in  the  midst  of 

"  Ces  plaisirs  doux  et  purs,  que  la  raison  desire."  ^ 

There  one  was  shielded  from  "the  tumult  and 
disorder  of  the  passions ; ' '  one  enjoyed  ' '  the  beau- 
ties of  the  country;"  one  played  at  little  games; 
all  day  long  pretty  nothings  were  said.  The  bad 
habits  of  luxury  showed  themselves,  however,  at 
meals:  "The  table  is  abundantly  and  delicately 
served  and  the  company  gay;  music  mixes  with 
the  talk,  and  follows  the  repast.  There  are  flutes, 
hautboys,  violins,  spinets,  and  even  trumpets,  the 
sound  of  which  is  softened  so  as  better  to  mingle 
with  that  of  the  other  instruments."     Those  last 

•  Letter  of  Ahh6  Genest  to  Mademoiselle  de  Scudery. 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  231 

two  lines  are  delightful ;  only  a  born  courtier  could 
imagine  trumpets  that  understood  their  duty  of 
being  pastoral  and  giving  the  illusion  of  a  reed- 
pipe.  The  evenings  were  enlivened  by  compli- 
cated fireworks.  Sometimes  these  represented 
"a  besieged  city,"  taken  by  storm,  or  again,  "two 
great  ships  that  seemed  anchored  in  a  field,"  bom- 
barding a  fort  which  ends  by  "bursting  into  the 
air  like  a  girandole ; "  or  else,  * '  two  flaming  globes, 
which  open  and  give  one  ' '  the  image  of  all  that  has 
been  taught  us  about  the  conflagration  of  the  uni- 
verse." Such  fine  doings  attracted  all  the  villagers 
of  the  neighbourhood,  and  the  festivities  became 
almost  too  rustic  for  the  pleasure  of  the  guests. 
Luckily,  night  threw  its  veil  over  faces  and  cos- 
tumes too  coarse  for  a  royal  idyl.  Thanks  to  it, 
"all  seemed  beautiful  and  clean."  Monsieur  du 
Maine  "rejoiced  with  great  tenderness  to  see  the 
rabble  tasting  the  fruits  of  peace." 

Chatenay  was  voted  "enchanting."  On  the 
20th  of  December  of  that  same  year  (1699),  Mon- 
sieur du  Maine  bought  the  castle  of  Sceaux  which 
Colbert  and  his  son,  Marquess  of  Seignelay,  had 
made  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  agreeable  resi- 
dences near  Paris.  Little  remains  of  it  nowa- 
days, but  the  Bievre  still  flows  through  the  valley, 
the  hills  still  show  their  gentle  and  intricate  curves, 
the  lovely  French  sky  still  sheds  its  tranquil  light 
on  the  spot  that  once  was  Sceaux.  Imagination 
easily  places  in  their  setting  the  ancient  castle  and 
gardens,  each  as  old  engravings  show  them  to  us. 


232  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

The  castle  had  been  built  for  Colbert  by  Per- 
rault.  It  enclosed  three  sides  of  a  vast,  square 
court.  The  symmetry  was  perfect,  the  decoration 
severe,  the  style  noble  and  graceful.  Straight 
avenues,  great  regularly  placed  iron  gates,  out- 
houses built  on  a  line  uniting  pavilions,  each  like 
the  other,  geometrical  flower  beds,  well- cut  bow- 
ers, groves,  with  trees  planted  at  regular  intervals ; 
a  majestic  assemblage  of  straight  lines  and  acute 
angles,  of  circles,  half  circles,  quarter  circles; 
treasures  of  sculpture,  of  paintings,  of  furniture, 
scattered  in  the  castle,  in  the  Aurora  Pavilion,* 
and  in  the  avenues  and  shrubberies ;  a  prodigious 
quantity  of  running  and'  gushing  water,  brought 
by  the  aqueducts ;  a  fabulous  number  of  fountains, 
cascades,  and  canals ;  an  inimitable  look  of  gran- 
deur, of  order  and  harmony;  for  horizon,  one  of 
the  prettiest  landscapes  of  the  environs  of  Paris, 
one  of  the  gentlest,  the  softest,  the  most  dis- 
creet, one  of  those  veritable  French  scenes  which 
penetrate  through  the  eyes  to  the  heart  of 
those  born  and  bred  among  them;  such  was  the 
magnificent  and  charming  dwelling  chosen  by 
Madame  du  Maine  to  be  her  Parnassus  and  her 
Olympus. 

Transported  with  delight,  the  little  duchess  took 
possession  of  her  new  domain,  so  happily  encir- 
cled by  hills  and  slopes  as  to  seem  a  tiny  universe, 

'  The  celebrated  Aurora  Pavilion,  situated  in  the  Park,  con- 
tained a  great  ceiling  by  Lebrtin,  the  Waking  of  Aurora  and  two 
lesser  ones  by  Delobel. 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  133 

enclosed,  shut  in  on  every  side.  The  Bi^vre,  with 
a  great  loop,  embraced  this  Lilliputian  kingdom. 
Madame  du  Maine  felt  here  entirely  at  home, 
quite  a  sovereign,  between  her  chosen  courtiers, 
eager  to  please  her,  and  the  peasants  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood who  depended  on  the  castle.  There  she 
somewhat  forgot  the  rest  of  the  world  and  grew 
accustomed  to  mistake  the  life  at  Sceaux  for  the 
life  of  humanity.  This  error  was  doomed  to  be 
fatal  to  her;  Madame  du  Maine's  ideas  were  un- 
hinged. 

She  hastened  to  organise  an  existence  according 
to  her  heart,  where  pleasure  became  a  duty  and  a 
labour.  She  amused  herself  by  day,  she  amused 
herself  by  night,  and  ordered  that  all  should  do 
likewise.  So  much  the  worse  for  those  who  did 
not  enjoy  such  a  life.  She  surrounded  herself 
with  paid  amusers,  bound  to  be  witty  at  a  given 
moment.  Malezieu  examined  the  candidates.  He 
suggested  the  subjects  on  which  they  had  to  speak, 
and  they  were  accepted  or  refused  according  to 
his  report.  She  had  poets  whose  duty  it  was  to 
flatter  her,  to  compare  her  to  Venus,  and  to  call 
her  "Heaven's  masterpiece."  During  dessert,  a 
signal  was  given,  and  they  tossed  back  and  forth 
songs  in  honour  of  the  ''Nymph  of  Sceaux." 
Abbe  Genest  preserved  a  whole  volume  of  these 
rapid  productions.^  It  is  diverting  reading.  Even 
the  embarrassment  of  the  men  who  found  nothing 
to   say   was   utilised   as   incense?    the   ingenious 

*  Les  Divertissements  de  Sceaux  (Paris,  17 12,  Etienne  Ganeau). 


234  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

Mal^zieu   hastened   to   extemporise   some   verses 
like  these: 

"  Lorsque  Minerve  nous  ordonne, 
On  a  toujours  assez  d 'esprit; 
Si  Ton  n'en  a  pas,  elle  en  donne." 

No  one  had  the  right  to  be  dull,  or  useless,  or 
grave.  Philosophy  did  not  save  one  from  im- 
provising rhymes,  or  age  from  concocting  madri- 
gals. No  one  could  free  himself  from  the  poetical 
lotteries,*  which  to-day  would  put  even  Academ- 
icians to  flight.  All  the  letters  of  the  alphabet 
were  thrown  into  a  bag  and  drawn.  The  winner 
of  S.  owed  a  sonnet,  A.  an  apotheosis  or  an  aria, 
O.  allowed  a  choice  between  an  ode  or  an  opera, 
and  so  forth.  There  was  no  escape,  under  the 
penalty  of  exile  from  Sceaux.  High-born  guests 
bought  the  verses  of  some  poor  devil  of  a  poet; 
but  men  like  Malezieu,  Chaulieu,  Fontenelle,  and 
later  Madame  de  Staal,  and  Voltaire,  were  not 
allowed  to  cheat  and  were  bound  to  pay  the 
forfeit.  Malezieu  called  Sceaux  "the  galleys  of 
wits." 

No  one  had  a  free  hour  to  be  dull  in  peace. 
Enigmas  and  anagrams  were  in  ambush  along  the 
passages.  Puzzles  whizzed  at  one,  like  an  arrow, 
in  the  duchess's  circle,  given  rhymes  had  to  be 
instantly  filled  up,  and  there  were  verses,  gallant 
or  stinging,  which  had  to  be  answered  offhand. 
There  were  numberless  games  where  forfeits  had 

»  See  the  Comedie  a  la  Cour  by  Adolphe  Jullien. 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  235 

to  be  redeemed  with  roundelays,  fables,  triolets, 
or  virelays.  One  received  poetical  invitations 
to  dinner,  anonymous  letters,  sentimental  or 
sprightly,  free  couplets,  and  one  was  condemned 
to  answer  after  the  same  fashion.  What  a  relief 
one  must  have  experienced,  what  delightful  re- 
pose, what  healthy  enjoyment,  when,  on  leaving 
Sceaux,  one  fell  upon  honest  folk  who  took  their 
soup  with  simplicity,  protected  from  all  logo- 
griphs,  acrostics,  and  songs,  where  one  could 
warm  one's  feet  without  describing  this  comfort- 
ing act  in  verse! 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  among  so  many  agree- 
able nothings  some  were  said  which  became  classic. 
One  evening  some  one  said  to  Fontenelle:  "What 
is  the  difference  between  our  hostess  and  a  clock  ?  " 
—  "One  tells  the  hours,  the  other  makes  us  forget 
them,"  answered  Fontenelle.  It  was  also  at 
Sceaux  that,  to  redeem  a  forfeit,  Voltaire  made 
this  well-known  riddle: 

"  Cinq  voyelles,  une  consonne, 
En  Frangais  composent  mon  nom, 
Et  je  porte  sur  ma  personne 
De  quoi  Tecrire  sans  crayon." 

To  Madame  du  Maine  was  left  the  honour  of 
guessing  oiseau. 

The  little  duchess  took  all  this  childishness  most 
seriously.  She  applied  herself  with  all  her  might 
and  main  to  compose  a  letter  from  the  Great  Mogul 
to  a  lady  at  Sceaux,  or  an  indecent  epistle  ad- 


^3^         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

dressed  to  her  brother,  Monsieur  le  Due.  She 
founded  the  order  of  the  Bee,  with  the  motto  al- 
ready quoted,  and  in  so  doing  displayed  as  much 
solemnity  as  the  King  of  France  may  have  shown 
when  he  instituted  the  order  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 
The  Bee  had  statutes,  officers;  an  oath,  of  which 
this  is  the  formula,  was  taken  without  a  smile :  "  I 
swear,  by  the  bees  of  Mount  Hymettus,  fidelity 
and  obedience  to  the  perpetual  directress  of  the 
order,  to  wear  all  my  life  the  model  of  the  Bee,  to 
accomplish,  as  long  as  I  live,  the  statutes  of  the 
order ;  and,  if  I  am  false  to  my  vows,  I  consent  that, 
for  me,  the  honey  shall  be  changed  to  gall,  the  wax 
to  tallow,  the  flowers  to  thistles,  and  that  all  bees 
and  wasps  shall  prick  me  with  their  darts." 

Never  was  amusement  more  laborious,  and  we 
are  not  at  the  end  of  the  pleasure  list.  Madame 
du  Maine  had  a  passion  for  theatricals.  She  had 
the  patience  to  learn  most  of  the  longest  parts  in 
the  repertory  of  her  day.  The  kind  mattered 
little ;  a  princess  is  sure  to  be  always  excellent ;  and 
the  quality  of  the  plays  was  a  matter  of  indiffer- 
ence, for,  passing  between  her  lips,  everything  be- 
came equally  beautiful.  She  played,  therefore, 
with  the  same  success,  tragedy  and  comedy,  com- 
edy ballets,  farce,  allegory,  and  pastoral  pieces. 
She  went  from  the  part  of  Athalie  to  that  of  Pene- 
lope, in  the  tragedy  of  the  Abbe  Genest,  from  Celi- 
m^ne  to  Finemouche  in  the  Tarentole  of  Mal^zieu. 
Plautus  succeeded  Quinault  on  the  play-bill,  Eurip- 
ides came  after  Lamotte. 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  237 

She  gave  herself  incredible  trouble.  She  con- 
demned herself  to  take  lessons,  to  rehearse,  to  try- 
on  costumes.  During  whole  months,  she  led  the 
terrible  life  of  a  provincial  actress,  forced  to  learn, 
every  day,  a  new  part.  She  went  to  Clagny  so  as 
to  invite  the  court  to  a  series  of  performances. 
The  courtiers  came  in  crowds,  went  into  ecstasies, 
and  made  fun  of  her  behind  her  back.  * '  One  could 
not  understand,"  said  Saint-Simon,  "this  folly 
which  consisted  in  dressing  like  an  actress,  of 
learning  and  declaiming  long  parts  and  making  a 
spectacle  of  oneself  on  a  stage."  Monsieur  du 
Maine  felt  that  his  wife  was  supremely  ridiculous, 
but  he  "did  not  dare  to  interfere,  for  fear  that  her 
head  might  be  completely  turned,  as  he  once  very 
clearly  told  Madame  la  Princesse  in  the  presence  of 
Madame  de  Saint-Simon." 

Monsieur  du  Maine,  had  he  been  perfectly  frank^ 
might  have  added  that  he  held  his  peace  for  fear 
of  scenes.  His  gentleness  did  not  avert  them,  and 
he  became  more  timid  after  each  "outburst,"' 
whence  the  pretty  definition  of  Madame  de  Caylus : 
"Monsieur  du  Maine's  marriage  put  the  finishing 
touch  to  his  unfortunate  disposition."  He  was 
not  even  admitted  to  his  wife's  entertainments. 
She  sent  him  away,  and,  obedient,  he  shut  himself 
up  in  a  turret,  where  he  spent  whole  days  drawing 
plans  for  his  gardeners.  The  Paris  song-makers 
knew  all  this  and  did  not  spare  him;  but  what 
could  he  do  ? 


23  8         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

"  De  sa  femme  et  de  sa  fortune 
Esclave  soumis  et  rampant, 
Du  Maine  ne  se  livre  a  I'une 
Que  quand  de  I'autre  il  est  content. 

"  Sa  femme  joue  en  comedienne, 
Recoit  toutes  sortes  de  gens, 
Et  sa  maison  est  toujours  pleine 
De  coquettes  et  de  galants. 

"  A  Malezieu  cette  princesse 
Prodigue  ses  plus  doux  appas; 
II  lui  montre  de  la  tendresse, 
Mais  on  dit  qu'il,  ne  I'aime  pas."  ^ 

Madame  du  Maine  was  scarcely  rewarded  for 
all  her  trouble.  She  was  bored.  The  harder  she 
worked  for  amusement's  sake,  the  more  bored  was 
she.  The  nights  particularly  weighed  on  her,  for 
she  scarcely  slept.  She  often  spent  them  in  gam- 
bling, and  this  was  the  origin  of  the  Great  Nights 
of  Sceaux.  An  abb6  was  the  inventor  of  these 
nights,  and  Madame  de  Staal  organised  the  first. 

This  witty  Staal -Delaunay  ^  was  a  most  un- 
fortunate creature.  Nature  had  made  her  sensi- 
tive and  proud.  Thanks  to  her  education,  she 
knew  her  own  worth.  Fate  threw  her  into  a  ser- 
vile situation  where  pride  is  a  misfortune,  and 
sensitiveness  ridiculous.  She  began  by  being 
maid  to  Madame  du  Maine,  obtained  her  advance- 
ment  by   dint   of   intelligence,    and   could   never 

'  Recueil  Maurepas  (1710). 

'  Mademoiselle  Delaunay  became  Madame  de  Staal  by  her 
marriage  with  an  officer  of  the  Swiss  Guards. 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  239 

console  herself  for  having  been  in  contact  with 
servants.  She  was  attracted  by  marquesses  and 
knights,  who  treated  her  cavalierly,  as  an  in- 
ferior ;  she  was  in  despair  and  could  not  help  mak- 
ing other  advances.  Chained  rather  than  at- 
tached to  Sceaux,  she  there  grew  old  and  died, 
without  any  other  consolation  than  that  of  having, 
secretly,  written  Memoirs  that  avenged  her,  for 
in  this  most  agreeable  narrative  the  egotism  of  the 
great  is  shown  in  all  its  nakedness. 

She  was  no  longer  quite  a  lady's  maid,  she  was 
not  yet  anything  else,  when  the  Abb^  de  Vau- 
brun  conceived  the  idea  of  varying  by  some 
"diversion"  a  night  that  the  duchess  was  to  spend 
at  the  card  table.  He  imagined  an  "apparition 
of  some  one  who  should  personify  Night  swathed 
in  her  black  veil ;  the  apparition  was  to  thank  the 
princess  for  the  preference  granted  to  her  over 
day ;  the  goddess  was  to  have  a  follower  who  would 
sing  a  fine  air  on  the  same  subject."  The  abbe 
begged  Madame  de  Staal  to  compose  and  recite 
Night's  speech.  The  speech  was  somewhat  fiat, 
and  the  author  got  mixed  up  in  her  recitation, 
but  the  idea  pleased.  The  Great  Nights  were 
inaugurated. 

In  their  day  they  made  much  stir  in  the  world ; 
now,  they  seem  rather  insipid.  Allegories  and 
comic  scenes,  mixed  with  dances  and  songs,  were 
composed  in  honour  of  Madame  du  Maine.  An  em- 
bassy from  Greenland  came  to  offer  her  the  crown, 
and  the  chief  addressed  her  thus : ' '  Fame  .  .  .  has 


240         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

instructed  us  of  the  virtues,  the  charms,  the  tastes, 
of  your  Royal  Highness.  We  have  heard  that 
you  hate  the  sun.  .  .  .  Many  affirm  that  your 
enmity  comes  from  a  discussion  as  to  the  nobihty, 
the  origin,  the  beauty,  the  excellence  of  your  re- 
spective lights,  etc."  ...  Or  else  learned  men 
came  to  consult  Malezieu  as  to  a  star  newly  dis- 
covered, the  which  star  was  no  other  than  the 
duchess,  presiding  over  the  Great  Nights.  Or, 
again,  the  enchanter  Merlin  indicated  Sceaux  to 
the  seekers  after  treasures,  and  there  they  found 
Madame  du  Maine.  Another  time,  Venus  la- 
mented the  loss  of  her  girdle  which  made  her 
mistress  of  all  hearts,  and  through  Apollo  she 
heard  that  the  girdle  had  been  appropriated  by 
Madame  du  Maine.  ^  Providence  has  kindly 
granted  to  the  great  ones  of  this  earth  the  grace 
to  enjoy  incense.  These  fine  discourses  delighted 
the  duchess  by  their  truthfulness,  the  public  by  the 
splendour  of  their  setting,  and  morning  found 
the  whole  castle  still  on  foot.  The  entertainment 
ended  by  a  magnificent  breakfast,  at  which  the 
wits  were  bidden  to  shine.  There  was  no  holiday 
for  them,  even  after  a  sleepless  night. 

The  indefatigable  little  duchess  still  found  time 
for  serious  studies.  She  neglected  neither  Latin 
nor  astronomy,  and  to  Malezieu  she  added  an- 
other professor  of  philosophy,  the  handsome, 
amiable,  fascinating,  insinuating,  and  compromis- 
ing Cardinal  of  Polignac,  author  of  a  long  poem, 

'  Adolphe  Jullien,  loc.  cit. 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  241 

since  forgotten,  and  of  a  witticism  justly  cele- 
brated. The  poem  was  entitled  VAnti  Lucrece, 
and  was  in  Latin.  In  it,  the  cardinal  undertook 
the  defence  of  healthy  morality  and  good  theology. 
The  mot  was  pronounced  in  the  gardens  of  Marly, 
during  a  downpour:  "It  is  nothing.  Sire,"  said  this 
flower  of  all  courtiers,  "Marly  rain  wets  no  one." 
Madame  du  Maine  greatly  admired  the  Anti 
Lucrece.  She  caused  its  author  to  explain  it  to 
her,  and  evil  tongues  wagged  with  regard  to  these 
lessons.  But  when  did  not  evil  tongues  wag? 
Simple-minded  folk  greatly  admired  the  little 
duchess.  "One  can  say  of  her,"  writes  the  Duke 
of  Luynes  in  his  Memoirs,  "  that  she  has  a  superior 
and  universal  mind,  strong  lungs,  and  admirable 
eloquence.  She  had  studied  the  most  abstract 
sciences;  philosophy,  physics,  astronomy.  She 
could  talk  on  any  subject  like  a  well-informed 
person  and  in  well -chosen  language ;  her  voice  was 
loud  and  strong,  and  she  could  converse  in  the 
same  high  tone  for  three  or  four  hours  without 
fatigue.  Novels  and  light  literature  likewise 
greatly  interested  her." 

It  was  not  without  cause  that  she  was  admired, 
for  the  childish  pleasures,  the  little  nothings,  the 
foolishness,  which  seemed  to  absorb  her  attention, 
masked  very  bold  political  plots,  directed  by  her 
with  great  perseverance.  Madame  du  Maine  never 
forgot  that,  on  the  day  of  her  engagement,  she  had 
vowed  to  herself  that  she  would  become  one  of  the 
kingdom's  most  important  personages.     She  never 


242         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

for  one  moment  flagged,  she  never  rested  after  a 
success,  never  permitted  her  husband  to  rest.  The 
duke  could  not  make  it  out.  Seeing  her  so  frivo- 
lous, so  determined  to  ruin  herself  in  fireworks  and 
masquerades,  he  fancied  she  had  given  up  more 
serious  matters,  and  allowed  himself  a  little  respite. 
Triumphantly,  one  fine  day,  he  brought  her  a  trans- 
lation, in  verse,  of  that  Anti  Lucrece,  which  she  so 
admired.  The  duchess  flew  into  a  rage.  It  was 
all  very  well  for  her  to  go  into  ecstasies  over  the 
Anti  Lucrece  and  its  gallant  author.  "You  will 
see,"  cried  she,  "that  some  morning  you  will  wake 
up  member  of  the  French  Academ}^  while  Mon- 
sieur d'Orleans  gets  the  regency!"  The  duke  was 
quite  abashed. 

The  duchess  was  unjust,  for  her  husband,  like 
herself,  had  not  been  idle.  While  she  reigned  at 
Sceaux,  he  was  assiduous  at  Versailles,  and  fol- 
lowed the  king  to  Trianon,  to  Marly,  to  Fontaine- 
bleau.  He  was  the  good  son,  the  tender  son,  who, 
lovingly,  contemplated  a  glorious  father,  who  could 
not  live  without  seeing  him,  who  gave  up  his  pas- 
sion for  solitude,  so  as  to  breathe  the  same  air,  who 
was  attentive,  thoughtful,  devotion  itself.  Be- 
sides, he  was  truly  amiable,  and  ever  willing  to 
amuse  the  king  with  some  clever  anecdote.  No 
less  assiduous  with  regard  to  Madame  de  Mainte- 
non,  he  confided  to  her  his  plans  and  his  dreams, 
and  she  guided  and  counselled  him,  interceding 
for  him.  With  the  help  of  this  faithful  ally.  Mon- 
sieur du  Maine's  good  luck  increased  day  by  day. 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  243 

Not  a  year  went  by  that  did  not  bring  him  some 
privilege,  a  sinecure  for  himself  or  his  children,  a 
patent  letter  bringing  him  a  little  nearer  the  throne. 
Recognised,  he  became  a  peer  of  the  realm;  from 
peer,  officially,  prince  of  the  blood,  enjoying  the 
same  honours  as  the  legitimate  princes.  This  was 
already  very  fine  for  a  bastard ;  Monsieur  du  Maine 
obtained  still  more.  After  the  death  of  the  Dukes 
of  Burgundy  and  Berry,  a  decree  (July,  17 14)  called 
to  the  succession  of  the  crown  the  Duke  of  Maine, 
the  Count  of  Toulouse,  his  brother,  and  their  de- 
scendants. The  little  lame  man  touched  the  crown 
with  the  tips  of  his  fingers !  And  he  obtained  more, 
ever  more.  Louis  XIV,  carefully  schooled,  sus- 
pected the  Duke  of  Orleans,  first  prince  of  the 
blood,  of  having  poisoned  the  Dauphin  and  his 
brother;  and  in  his  will  he  took  from  his  nephew 
the  principal  prerogatives  of  the  regency  to  trans- 
fer them  to  the  Duke  of  Maine.  The  latter  thus 
grasped  the  crown  with  both  hands,  for  the  future 
Louis  XV  was  so  sickly  that  he  was  not  expected 
to  live. 

Such  is  the  position  attained  by  the  Duke  and 
Duchess  of  Maine  at  the  end  of  17 14.  Such  is  the 
dignity  bestowed  upon  them  by  the  tenderness  of 
an  ex-governess  and  the  weakness  of  an  old  man. 
The  duchess  was  in  the  seventh  heaven.  She 
"triumphed  at  Sceaux,"  said  Saint-Simon,  "and 
plunged  into  feasts  and  rejoicings."  Her  spouse 
was  divided  between  content  and  terror.  He  re- 
flected perpetually  on  what  his  father  had  said  to 


244         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

him  in  public,  in  a  loud  and  angry  voice,  after  sign- 
ing his  will,  "You  have  your  wish,  but  remember 
that,  however  great  I  may  make  you,  after  me,  you 
are  nothing;  it  behoves  you  to  profit  by  what  I 
have  done  for  you  —  if  you  can."  Remembering 
these  words,  Monsieur  du  Maine  trembled.  What 
indeed  would  become  of  all  this  grandeur  when 
Louis  XIV  had  disappeared? 

Thus,  while  joy  alone  possessed  the  soul  of 
Madame  du  Maine,  her  husband  was  agitated 
as  much  by  fear  as  by  hope,  and  thought  less  of 
his  happiness  than  of  being  forgiven  for  it. 


Ill 

During  the  summer  of  17 14  the  health  of  Louis 
XIV  began  to  decline.  The  different  parties 
which  would  be  rivals  at  his  death  had  a  year 
wherein  to  plan  their  tactics.  The  situation  was 
at  any  rate  simple  enough.  The  heir  was  barely 
out  of  swaddling  clothes,  and  only  two  men,  the 
Duke  of  Orleans  and  the  Duke  of  Maine,  could 
aspire  to  govern  in  his  name.  The  Duke  of 
Orleans  was  regent  by  right  of  birth;  he  was  the 
natural  chief  of  the  high  nobility,  but  he  was  in 
deepest  disgrace,  and  kept  in  absolute  inaction. 
Calumnies  were  spread  abroad,  and  he  was  even 
accused  of  poisoning  the  princes,  his  cousins.  At 
the  funeral  of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  the  rabble 
tried  to  massacre  him.     Monsieur  du  Maine  was 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  245 

neither  respected  nor  liked,  except  by  some  old 
courtiers,  devoted  to  his  father ;  but,  in  his  favour, 
he  had  the  King's  testament,  the  King's  favour, 
the  King's  love.  This  was  much,  this  was  all  — 
while  the  King  lived.  What  would  it  be  after  his 
death?     Would  it  still  be  something? 

Monsieur  and  Madame  du  Maine  thought  it 
would  be,  and  that  was  a  great  error,  the  origin 
of  their  misfortunes.  They  knew  that,  by  the 
loss  of  the  King,  their  position  would  be  greatly 
weakened;  they  did  not  foresee  that  it  would 
totter  and  disappear  completely.  They  fancied 
that  it  would  be  possible  for  them  to  grasp  the 
power,  and  leave  merely  its  shadow  to  the  Duke 
of  Orleans.  Their  plans  were  laid  in  accordance. 
Madame  du  Maine  directed  everything  from  her 
castle  at  Sceaux  where,  more  than  ever,  pleasures 
seemed  to  occupy  all  her  attention.  Monsieur  du 
Maine  executed  her  orders  with  his  habitual 
dexterity.  He  scarcely  left  the  King,  whose  bed- 
chamber singularly  resembled,  during  the  last 
months  of  his  life,  that  of  Regnard's  Geronte  in 
the  Legataire  Universal.  Monsieur  du  Maine  and 
Madame  de  Maintenon  were  the  Crispin  and 
Lisette  of  the  royal  puppet. 

The  plan  of  Monsieur  and  Madame  du  Maine 
consisted  in  arousing  the  passions  of  all  their  ene- 
mies, in  exciting  warfare  among  them,  so  that, 
in  the  noise  of  this  strife,  they  themselves  might 
be  forgotten.  Monsieur  du  Maine  revived  old 
quarrels,  and  started  new  ones.     The  peers  were 


246  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

at  daggers  drawn  with  the  Parliament;  the  re- 
maining nobles  with  the  peers.  He,  however, 
seemingly  detached  from  all  mundane  things, 
feigned  astonishment  and  ignorance,  was  very 
gentle,  very  humble,  and  spent  much  time  in  the 
churches.  He  showed  himself  at  high  mass,  at 
vespers,  at  complines,  at  prayers.  Nowhere  was 
a  litany  recited,  an  anthem  sung,  but  Monsieur 
du  Maine  was  among  the  faithful,  with  eyes  de- 
voutly fixed  on  the  ground,  modest  and  contrite. 
Who  could  have  suspected  so  pious  a  man  ? 

The  little  duchess,  on  her  side,  did  her  very 
best.  She  alarmed  her  husband  by  the  audacity 
of  her  conceptions ;  irritated  and  rendered  furious 
by  his  objections,  she  reproached  him  with  his 
cowardice.  Storm  succeeded  storm.  At  last, 
Madame  du  Maine  thought  it  wise  to  step  upon 
the  stage.  She  wished  to  begin  by  a  master  stroke 
and  tried  to  gain  the  dukes  and  peers  to  her 
cause.  She  spoke  to  them,  failed,  flew  into  a 
passion,  cried  out  that  ''she  would  set  fire  to  the 
centre  and  to  the  four  corners  of  the  kingdom," 
rather  than  give  up  her  hope  of  winning  the 
crown ;  she  went  so  far  that  she  brought  upon  her 
husband  a  scene  from  Saint -Simon.  ' '  Enjoy, ' '  said 
that  terrible  man,  in  a  voice  worthy  of  an  ogre, 
"enjoy  your  power  and  all  you  have  obtained. 
But  there  always  comes  a  time  when  one  repents 
having  gone  beyond  the  mark."  Poor  Monsieur 
du  Maine  grew  pale  and  remained  speechless. 

Among  all  these  intrigues,  the  spring  of   17 15 


iiiii!iliiiii3liliaiSII.!;lSJiili3i;i::li!iSiiiaS 


L.i' ilJMliy'l IIJJ^^^lildLLJ 


MADAME   DE   MAINTENON 
From  the  engraving  by  P.   Giffart 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  247 

passed.  Louis  XIV  grew  weaker  and  weaker,  and 
his  daughter-in-law  tormented  Monsieur  du  Maine 
that  he  might  yet  obtain  still  greater  favours; 
but,  seeing  the  end  near  at  hand,  he  showed  him- 
self nervous  and  awkward.  He  allowed  several 
important  graces  to  slip  between  his  fingers. 

On  the  23d  of  August,  Louis  XIV,  already  dying, 
sent  his  beloved  son  to  review  the  troops  in  his 
stead,  so  as  to  accustom  the  soldiers  "to  look 
upon  him  as  on  himself."  Monsieur  du  Maine 
appeared  in  all  his  glory  as  the  favourite  of  the 
day  and  the  dictator  of  the  morrow,  smiling, 
bowing,  prancing,  beaming,  triumphant,  when  he 
grew  white  with  anguish  at  seeing  the  Duke  of 
Orleans  at  the  head  of  a  regiment.  In  an  instant, 
by  one  of  those  fine  instinctive  movements  of  the 
crowd,  which  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  put 
things  in  their  rightful  places.  Monsieur  du  Maine's 
brilliant  escort  left  him  and  hastened  to  meet  the 
Duke  of  Orleans.  This  move  was  as  sudden  as  it 
was  unpremeditated.  It  was  the  protestation  of 
the  public  conscience,  cured  of  its  absurd  sus- 
picions, in  favour  of  right  and  justice.  This,  Mon- 
sieur du  Maine  did  not  understand.  He  only 
thought  that  it  was  one  more  mortification  that 
had  to  be  swallowed,  and  he  swallowed  it.  For 
some  time  back  he  had  deceived  himself  strangely. 
The  poor  man,  frightened  at  his  shadow,  chose 
this  moment  to  be  foolhardy. 

On  the  25th  of  August,  he  obtained  a  codicil 
from  his  dying  father.     On  the  26th,  Madame  du 


248         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

Maine  interrupted  her  receptions  and  went  to  Ver- 
sailles. It  was  but  time.  Louis  XIV  died  on  the 
first  of  September. 

The  following  day,  the  2d,  there  was  a  solemn 
assembly  of  the  Parliament  for  the  opening  of  the 
King's  will.  Monsieur  du  Maine,  who  knew  its 
contents  and  already  saw  himself  the  master  of 
France,  entered  with  a  radiant  air.  "He  was 
bursting  with  joy,"  said  Saint-Simon.  He  left 
with  a  convulsed  face,  half  fainting.  The  will  and 
codicil  had  been  annulled,  as  by  one  voice,  in  favour 
of  his  rival,  and  the  air  was  filled  with  the  acclama- 
tions of  the  same  people  who,  three  years  before, 
had  tried  to  stone  the  Duke  of  Orleans.  Half  king 
in  the  morning,  Monsieur  du  Maine  in  the  evening 
was  nothing  but  a  schoolmaster;  the  supervision  of 
a  five-year-old  king's  education  had  been  left  to 
him. 

Needless  to  say  how  he  was  received  by  his  ten- 
der wife.  The  duchess,  beside  herself  with  anger 
and  contempt,  determined  henceforth  to  trust  no 
one  and  to  act  for  herself.  Soon  she  showed  what 
she  was  capable  of  doing.  Monsieur  du  Maine  had 
lost  the  supreme  power,  but  he  was  still  prince  of 
the  blood,  thanks  to  his  father's  edicts.  The  real 
princes  of  the  blood,  and  many  honest  people,  could 
not  swallow  this.  They  considered  it  as  an  out- 
rage to  religion,  to  morality,  to  themselves,  that 
the  children  of  a  double  and  public  adultery  should 
be  placed  above  all,  in  a  sort  of  apotheosis.  This 
called  for  vengeance,  and  the  attack  came  from 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  249 

Madame  du  Maine's  own  family.  Her  father, 
Monsieur  le  Prince,  was  dead.  Her  brother  was 
dead.  It  was  her  nephew,  Monsieur  le  Due,  who 
started  the  warfare  and  first  spoke  of  abolishing 
the  edicts  in  favour  of  the  recognised  bastards. 
On  learning  of  this  menace,  the  little  duchess  ex- 
claimed proudly,  "If  they  sleep,  we  shall  sleep;  if 
they  wake,  we  shall  wake." 

They  woke.  War  was  declared  between  the 
legitimate  princes  and  the  royal  bastards.  Law 
suits  were  instituted;  the  weapons  were  memoirs, 
answers,  protestations,  and  requests;  Madame  du 
Maine  took  the  direction  of  the  affair,  and  was  in- 
defatigable. She  left  her  beloved  valley  for  the 
Tuileries,  where  the  regent  had  installed  little 
Louis  XV,  and  she  blossomed  out  into  a  sort  of 
lawyer.  Day  and  night  she  pored  over  briefs,  took 
notes  out  of  law  books,  drew  up  memoirs,  accumu- 
lated papers,  wrote,  combined,  invented.  ' '  The  im- 
mense volumes  piled  up  on  her  bed,  like  mountains, 
under  which  her  little  figure  almost  disappeared, 
made  her  look  like  Enceladus  crushed  beneath 
Mount  Etna."'  She  could  have  given  points  to 
Chicaneau;  she  went  even  to  the  Chaldeans  for 
precedents. 

All  her  court  had  to  submit  to  this  legal  regime. 
Her  attendant  poets  were  transformed  into  law 
clerks.  Farewell  to  Latin  verses!  Farewell  to 
enigmas  and  madrigals!  Farewell  to  the  Graces 
and    to    Apollo!     Handsome    Polignac,    amiable 

*  Staal,  Memoirs. 


250         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

Malezieu,  worked  under  the  eyes  of  the  duchess  to 
prove  in  the  jargon  of  the  court  room  that  she  was 
in  the  right,  and  that  Monsieur  du  Maine  was  no 
longer  a  bastard  since  such  was  the  King's  good 
pleasure.  They  also  learned  to  reason  on  law,  and 
discuss  on  questions  of  competence.  During  the 
night  it  was  Madame  de  Staal's  turn,  and  she  would 
greatly  have  preferred  going  to  sleep.  Installed 
by  her  mistress's  bedside,  she  "looked  over  old 
chronicles,  ancient  and  modern  jurists."  There 
were  female  discussions  as  to  the  prerogatives  of 
Parliaments,  and  the  value  of  royal  testaments, 
until  dizziness  put  an  end  to  the  talk.  Then  a 
maid  servant  was  called  in,  whose  duty  it  was  to 
tell  stories  until  her  mistress  fell  asleep.  This 
woman,  almost  every  night,  began  with  the  fate 
of  the  Cockscomb  of  an  Indian  Chanticleer,  which 
one  can  read  to-day  in  the  Divertissements  de  Sceaux 
and  which,  very  certainly,  is  fitted  to  put  any  one 
to  sleep. 

The  riunour  of  Madame  du  Maine's  labour  was 
soon  noised  about  in  Paris,  and  the  Tuileries  saw  a 
singular  procession.  The  duchess  was  besieged  by 
old  scholars  in  spectacles,  needy  adventurers,  and 
equivocal  countesses,  who  came  to  offer  her  infalli- 
ble receipts  for  the  winning  of  her  law  suit.  One 
brought  historical  examples,  borrowed  from  the 
court  of  Semiramis.  Another  promised  important 
revelations,  on  condition  of  dining  first  of  all.  An 
ex-monk  tried  to  sell  documents.  Women  of 
doubtful  appearance  and  fallacious  titles  asked  for 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  251 

mysterious  meetings  in  order  to  reveal  secrets. 
Madame  du  Maine  listened  to  everything,  sent 
everywhere,  tried  all  things. 

On  the  other  hand,  she  neglected  no  means  of 
increasing  her  party,  and  in  this  she  succeeded ;  but 
the  credit  of  it  went  to  Monsieur  du  Maine,  that 
misunderstood  husband.  His  wife  saw  in  him 
nothing  but  a  craven  and  took  the  credit  of  every 
triumph.  And  this  was  a  great  error  as  well  as  a 
gross  injustice.  Monsieur  du  Maine  rendered  im- 
mense services  to  the  common  cause,  whereas  the 
duchess  jeopardised  it  constantly  by  her  childish- 
ness and  her  fits  of  temper. 

Monsieur  du  Maine,  among  other  arts,  had  mas- 
tered that  of  making  malcontents  and  drawing 
them  to  himself.  At  this  period,  during  the  law 
suit  between  the  princes  of  the  blood  and  the 
recognised  princes,  malcontents  were  wanting 
neither  at  court,  in  the  city,  nor  in  its  environs. 
Many  were  dissatisfied  with  the  regency,  that  had 
not  been  able  to  put  all  things  in  order  by  a  touch  of 
the  wand.  The  nobles  had  imagined  that,  now 
that  they  were  once  more  powerful,  they  could, 
with  a  frown,  force  the  arrogant  bourgeois,  grown 
to  such  importance  under  Louis  XIV,  to  sink  once 
more  into  nothingness;  the  *' arrogant  bourgeois"' 
fought  with  a  will,  and  for  this  the  nobles  held  the 
weak  Duke  of  Orleans  responsible.  They  were 
divided  among  themselves ;  the  minor  nobles  had 
signed  a  petition  against  the  privileges  of  the 
dukes.     The  Parliament  complained  that  it  was 


252         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

not  consulted.  The  people,  exasperated,  saw  the 
money  of  the  treasury  lavished  on  the  courtiers. 
Add  to  this  that  the  nation  was  in  the  midst  of 
the  law  system,  that  Alberoni  was  working  to 
excite  dissensions  in  France  for  the  benefit  of  the 
King  of  Spain,  his  master,  and  that  Providence 
had  just  let  loose  upon  the  world  the  young  Vol- 
taire, who  had  already  found  the  time  to  get  him- 
self exiled  for  verses  "most  satirical  and  very  im- 
pudent," and  to  be  put  in  the  Bastille  for  other 
verses  "most  insolent." 

Such  a  ferment  of  discord  was  most  useful  to 
the  Duke  of  Maine.  He  outdid  himself.  He 
cleverly  swam  between  two  waters,  kept  himself 
out  of  the  way,  was  caressing  and  insidious,  and 
secured  many  partisans  in  Paris,  in  the  provinces, 
in  the  Parliament,  among  members  of  the  old  court, 
the  small  and  lesser  nobles,  among  the  magistrates 
and  men  of  letters.  Barbier  writes  in  his  Memoirs, 
"Monsieur  du  Maine  is  a  very  wise  prince,  and 
much  esteemed."  Saint -Simon  asserts  with  sor- 
row that  "all  smiled  on  his  plans." 

In  spite  of  caresses  and  intrigues,  nothing  could 
counterbalance  the  hatred  of  Monsieur  le  Due  for 
his  aunt,  Madame  du  Maine.  It  is  well  known 
that  Monsieur  le  Due  was  a  veritable  brute,  a  hid- 
eous one-eyed,  ferocious  being.  He  led  the  suit 
against  the  bastard  princes  with  his  usual  vio- 
lence, and  obtained  from  the  council  of  the  re- 
gency, July,  17 17,  a  decree  which  took  from  them 
all  right  to  the  royal  successions  and  also  the  quality 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  ^53 

of  princes  of  the  blood.  When,  nowadays,  we 
read  the  papers  relating  to  this  great  suit,  we  are 
struck  by  the  novelty  of  the  language  employed 
by  both  parties,  just  after  the  death  of  Louis  XIV, 
in  speaking  of  the  sovereign  power.*  Royal  au- 
thority is  here  represented  as  a  trust  and  a  man- 
date. There  is  no  more  talk  of  divine  right  or 
inviolability.  The  right  of  a  nation  to  dispose  of 
itself  is  recognised,  and  the  monarchy  is  now  no 
more  than  a  simple  civil  contract,  revocable  by 
the  will  of  the  contracting  parties.  What  a  revo- 
lution in  the  space  of  two  years! 

The  decree  of  17 17  was  the  prologue  of  the 
drama  which  precipitated  Monsieur  and  Madame 
du  Maine  in  the  abyss.  Seeing  them  vanquished 
their  enemies  grew  bold.  The  duchess,  incapable 
of  bowing  before  the  storm,  imprudently  burst 
into  imprecations  and  menaces.  Her  violence 
was  the  pretext  for  the  second  thunderbolt,  that 
of  the  bed  of  justice,  August  the  26th,  17 18. 

In  order  to  judge  of  the  little  duchess's  feelings 
at  this  second  catastrophe,  it  must  be  remembered 
that  the  bed  of  justice  of  the  26th  of  August  was 
a  surprise  to  all.  Nobody  in  Paris  knew  anything 
about  it.  Madame  du  Maine  had  gone  to  sup 
and  to  spend  the  night  at  the  Arsenal,  where 
she  gave  herself  an  entertainment.  Monsieur  du 
Maine  had  accompanied  her  and  had  returned 
only  a  little  before  daybreak,  to  his  apartment  in 
the  Tuileries,  situated  on  the  ground  floor.     He 

'  See  Lemontey,  Histoire  de  la  Regence. 


254         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

had  just  fallen  asleep  when  the  upholsterers  in- 
vaded the  throne  room,  where  the  ceremony  was 
to  take  place.  It  was  just  above  him,  but  he 
heard  nothing.  An  officer  woke  him,  saying  that 
some  great  event  was  preparing.  Monsieur  du 
Maine  dressed  hastily  and  went  to  the  little  King's 
room,  where  soon  after  the  Duke  of  Orleans 
arrived.     It  was  about  eight  o'clock. 

"I  know,"  said  the  regent  graciously  to  Mon- 
sieur du  Maine,  "that  since  the  last  edict,  you 
prefer  not  to  take  part  in  public  ceremonies. 
There  is  to  be  a  bed  of  justice;  you  can  absent 
yourself  from  it,  if  you  choose. "  ' '  When  the  King 
is  present,  I  suffer  no  annoyance,"  replied  the 
Duke.  "At  any  rate,  at  your  bed  of  justice,  it  is 
not  likely  that  I  shall  be  mentioned." 

"  —  Perhaps,"  said  the  regent,  and  he  left  the 
room.^ 

Monsieur  du  Maine,  much  upset,  went  out  seek- 
ing for  news.  His  unfortunate  timidity  gave  him 
a  wild  look,  and  the  countenance  of  a  criminaL 
He  learned  that  the  education  of  the  King  was  to 
be  taken  from  him  and  that  the  legitimatised 
princes  were  to  be  reduced  to  their  simple  rank 
of  peers.  In  a  state  of  great  anguish  he  went  to 
his  wife's  apartments;  she  had  been  sent  for  at 
the  Arsenal,  and  her  state  of  mind  was  indescrib- 
able. She  could  not  understand  that  Monsieur 
du  Maine  should  let  himself  be  driven  out  without 
resisting.     She  implored  him,  she  reviled  him,  she 

^  Manuscript  Memoirs  of  the  Duke  d'Antin. 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  255 

had  nervous  spasms.  By  her  orders,  young 
lackeys  clambered  up  the  walls,  as  high  as  the 
windows  of  the  throne  room.  Hanging  by  their 
hands,  they  peered  through  the  window  panes, 
reporting  to  the  ground  floor  what  was  then  tak- 
ing place.  Madame  du  Maine  trusted  that  some 
one  would  take  her  husband's  part,  that  there 
might  be  some  incident.  She  screamed  and  cried 
when  it  became  evident  that  the  bed  of  justice  had 
taken  place  quietly  and  that  she  must  immediately 
leave  the  palace.  Two  strokes  of  a  pen  had  suf- 
ficed to  take  from  the  dearly  loved  son  of  the  most 
absolute  of  monarchs  all  the  favours  heaped  upon 
his  head  during  forty  years,  favours  strengthened 
by  all  the  prudence,  all  the  forethought,  all  the 
zeal  that  the  most  tender  affection  could  inspire. 

Madame  du  Maine  had  to  be  carried  from  the 
Tuileries  in  the  most  pitiable  condition.  "She 
was,"  said  Madame  de  Staal,  "so  overcome  that 
she  seemed  almost  deprived  of  life;  she  was  in  a 
sort  of  lethargy  from  which  convulsive  movements 
alone  could  shake  her."  Two  days  later,  she  was 
taken  to  Sceaux.  Sorrow  had  well-nigh  bereft 
her  of  reason.  Now,  motionless  and  dumb,  her 
eyes  staring,  she  seemed  the  very  statue  of  grief. 
At  other  times,  "yelling  with  rage"  and  causing 
all  about  her  to  tremble,  she  showered  on  her 
husband  the  most  outrageous  reproaches,  throwing 
at  him  his  birth,  his  cowardice,  their  marriage. 
The  poor  man  "all  day  long,  wept  like  a  calf."  ^ 

^  Saint-Simon. 


256         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

Madame  du  Maine  ought  to  have  acknowledged 
her  defeat,  given  up  pubhc  affairs,  and,  once 
more,  taken  to  card -board  crowns.  Such  was  her 
husband's  opinion.  But  she  was  obstinate;  she 
was  hke  those  brave  Httle  terriers  that  let  them- 
selves be  killed  rather  than  give  up  their  prey. 
For  some  time  past,  she  had  been  intriguing  with 
Alberoni  through  Cellamare,  Spanish  ambassador 
to  Paris.  After  the  catastrophe  of  August  26th, 
she  became  really  a  conspirator. 

Into  this  new  part  she  carried  too  many  sou- 
v^enirs  of  the  numerous  romances  she  had  read. 
She  devised  an  am.using  plot  in  which  such  ex- 
traordinary things  were  done,  that  the  police  at 
once  were  on  the  scent.  Her  headquarters  were 
in  a  house  in  rue  St.  Honore,  hired  on  purpose. 
From  it,  she  would  go  in  the  middle  of  the  night, 
driven  by  a  nobleman  disguised  as  coachman,  to 
odd  places  where  she  met  other  conspirators.  She 
would  send  Madame  de  Staal  at  midnight  to  pre- 
side over  a  council  held  under  the  Pont  Royal. 
She  disguised  two  of  her  lackeys  as  Flemish 
lords,  and  these  rivals  of  Mascarille  were  presented 
in  society  under  the  names  of  Prince  of  Listenai 
and  Chevalier  de  la  Roche.  As  at  the  time  of 
her  law  suit,  she  received  crowds  of  adventurers, 
of  intriguers,  and  imbeciles  who  brought  plans  and 
offered  advice.  She  kept  up  a  most  useless  cor- 
respondence in  invisible  ink,  and  had  all  sorts  of 
partisans  more  or  less  trustworthy,  two  of  whom, 
at  least,  were  spies  in  the  service  of  Abbe  Dubois. 


LOUIS  XV. 
After  the  painting  by  Hyacinthe  Rigaud 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  257 

She  forced  Polignac  and  Malezieu,  who  refused  as 
long  as  they  dared,  to  conspire  with  her.  She 
joked  gaily  as  to  the  time  she  might  spend  in 
prison.  Especially  she  forbade  any  one  to  speak 
of  these  matters  to  her  very  timid  spouse.  When 
he  appeared,  conversation  stopped. 

It  is  not  our  purpose  to  relate  the  Cellamare 
plot,  of  which  Madame  du  Maine's  little  intrigue 
was  but  an  episode.  All  that  is  necessary  to  recall 
is  that  Alberoni  wished  to  secure  the  throne  of 
France  for  his  master,  Philip  V,  in  case  little 
Louis  XV  should  die.  Alberoni,  especially,  wished 
to  push  aside  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  who  also  had 
claims  to  the  crown,  and  he  had  given  orders  to 
Cellamare  to  make  friends  with  all  malcontents, 
so  as  to  overthrow  the  regent;  afterwards,  it 
would  be  time  to  see  who  should  take  his  place. 
A  Spanish  army  was  to  land  in  Brittany  to 
support  the  conspirators. 

Naturally,  when  she  offered  her  aid,  the  Duch- 
ess of  Maine  was  received  with  open  arms.  Cella- 
mare showered  praises  on  her,  promised  very  fine 
things  in  the  name  of  his  King,  and  made  use  of 
her  zeal.  Under  her  high  direction  two  commit- 
tees of  conspirators  were  placed.  One  was  com- 
posed of  a  certain  Abbe  Brigault  and  two  lords, 
the  Count  of  Laval  and  the  Marquess  of  Pompa- 
dour. The  other  comprised  the  duchess  herself, 
de  Malezieu  and  de  Polignac.  These  six  persons 
divided  the  work  among  themselves  and  covered 
many  sheets  of  paper  with  their  writing.     These 


258         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

compositions  were  submitted  to  the  judgment  of 
all,  and  each  committee  despised  the  productions 
of  the  other  one.  The  lords  found  the  "work" 
of  the  poets  very  pale  and  flat.  The  poets  looked 
upon  the  lordly  scribbling  as  meaningless  twaddle. 
Thus  were  drawn  up  a  manifesto  from  the  King 
of  Spain  to  France,  a  petition  from  the  French 
to  the  King  of  Spain,  and  various  other  docu- 
ments, several  of  which  were  duly  sent  to  Madrid. 
When  Alberoni  received  the  petition  of  the  French 
to  the  King  of  Spain,  he  wrote  to  ask  by  whom  it 
was  to  be  signed;  but  he  received  no  answer. 
These  conspirators  did  not  wish  to  give  their 
names,  the  lords  no  more  than  the  poets.  In 
very  truth,  Madame  du  Maine's  intrigue  was  but 
a  continuation  of  the  little  games  of  Sceaux. 

Meanwhile,  Alberoni  urged  Cellamare  to  act. 
He,  who  had  prepared  nothing  serious,  tried  to 
gain  time.  He  learned  that  a  young  abbe,  named 
Porto  Carrero,  was  to  leave  Paris  for  Madrid;  to 
him  he  confided  a  mass  of  documents,  rough 
sketches  for  manifestoes,  letters,  petitions,  and 
other  fancies,  composed  by  Madame  du  Maine, 
Polignac,  Pompadour,  Abbe  Brigault,  Malezieu, 
and  others.  Cellamare  added  a  letter  for  Alberoni 
with  a  list  of  French  officers  who,  according  to 
him,  desired  to  serve  Spain.  Abb^  Dubois,  who 
had  his  eyes  open,  judged  that  the  moment  had 
come  to  get  rid  of  all  these  clumsy  conspirators. 
Porto  Carrero  was  followed  and  stopped  at  Poitiers. 
His  papers  were  delivered  to  the  regent.  Decern- 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  259 

ber  8,  17 18,  without  awakening  any  suspicion  in 
Paris.  The  following  day,  the  gth,  in  the  after- 
noon, a  gentleman  entered  Madame  de  Staal's 
apartments  in  the  house  of  rue  St.  Honore,  say- 
ing: "Here  is  a  great  piece  of  news.  The  palace 
of  the  Spanish  ambassador  is  surrounded,  and 
troops  have  entered  it.  No  one,  as  yet,  knows 
what  it  is  all  about."  At  the  same  moment, 
Madame  du  Maine,  whose  drawing-room  was  full, 
was  told  of  this  event.  "All  who  entered  related 
the  news,  added  some  new  circumstance,  and 
spoke  of  nothing  else.  She  did  not  dare  to  free 
herself  from  her  unfortunate  visitors,  for  fear  they 
might  notice  her  terror."  Soon  it  was  known 
that  Porto  Carrero  had  been  arrested  and  his 
papers  seized.  This  time,  Madame  du  Maine  and 
her  accomplices  "saw  themselves  plunged  in  the 
abyss."  The  duchess  comforted  herself  with  the 
thought  that  Abbe  Brigault,  to  whom  many 
papers  had  been  intrusted,  had  taken  flight. 

On  the  tenth  more  arrests  were  made.  Mon- 
sieur de  Pompadour  was  sent  to  the  Bastille.  But 
the  abb^  was  safe,  and  Madame  du  Maine  began 
to  breathe  more  easily. 

On  the  twelfth,  while  she  was  having  a  game  of 
Biribi,  a  certain  Monsieur  de  Chatillon,  who  was 
the  banker,  "a  man  of  cold  manners,  who  rarely 
spoke,"  said  all  of  a  sudden:  "Really,  there  has 
been  an  amusing  event  to-day.  An  abbe,  Bri  — 
Bri  —  "  (he  could  not  find  the  name)  "has  been 
arrested  and   sent  to   the  Bastille  ..."     Those 


i6o         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

who  knew  the  name  had  no  wish  to  help  his  mem- 
ory. At  last,  he  continued:  "The  funniest  part 
of  all  is  that  he  has  confessed  everything;  there 
will  be  some  people  in  a  pretty  pickle."  Then  he 
burst  out  laughing  for  the  first  time  in  his  life. 

Madame  du  Maine,  who  had  no  wish  to  laugh, 
said:  "Yes  —  a  funny  story.  .  .  ."  "Oh!  It  is 
enough  to  make  one  die  of  laughing,"  he  went  on. 
"Just  fancy!  all  those  people  thought  themselves 
so  very  safe ;  and  the  fellow  answers  every  question, 
and  names  every  one."  ^ 

It  was  true.  Abbe  Brigault  was  indeed  a  con- 
spirator for  fine  ladies.  He  had  travelled  without 
haste,  enjoying  the  journey,  still  more,  the  good 
inns.  He  had  taken  over  a  day  to  cross  Paris  on 
horseback  and  had  slept  the  first  night  ' '  at  the  inn 
of  the  Great  Saint  Jacques  in  the  Faubourg  Saint 
Jacques."^  After  three  days,  he  was  only  at 
Nemours,  twenty  leagues  from  Paris.  Those  sent 
in  search  found  him  easily  and  brought  him  back 
to  the  Bastille  much  more  quickly  than  he  had 
gone  out.  Before  he  had  crossed  the  threshold, 
he  had  divulged  everything.  Others  after  him 
also  gave  evidence,  and  the  number  of  the  arrests 
multiplied.  From  several  sources  Madame  du 
Maine  heard  that  it  would  soon  be  her  turn.  No 
one  slept  in  her  house ;  the  nights  were  spent  quite 
gaily,  waiting  for  the  musketeers.  Monsieur  du 
Maine  kept  very  quiet  at  Sceaux. 

^  Memoirs  of  Madame  de  Staal. 

*  First  declaration  of  Abbe  Brigault. 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  261 

In  spite  of  watching  and  putting  oneself  on  the 
defensive,  the  musketeers  arrived  when  they  were 
least  expected.  Monsieur  and  Madame  du  Maine 
were  arrested,  one  at  Sceaux,  the  other  in  the  rue 
St.  Honore.  Their  conduct,  at  this  critical  junc- 
ture, was  as  different  as  were  their  two  natures, 
which  then  stood  fully  revealed. 

Monsieur  du  Maine  was  leaving  the  chapel  when 
he  was  most  respectfully  requested  by  a  lieutenant 
of  the  bodyguards  to  enter  a  waiting  coach.  He 
obeyed,  "death  painted  on  his  face,"  but  with  a 
submission,  a  humility,  a  sort  of  eagerness,  well 
fitted  to  excite  compassion.  He  did  not  allow 
himself  to  complain,  or  to  ask  anything,  even  with 
regard  to  his  wife  and  children,  but  he  sighed 
deeply  and  clasped  his  hands.  He  was  the  living 
image  of  misunderstood  and  persecuted  innocence. 

He  was  taken  to  the  Fortress  of  Doullens,  in 
Picardy,  and  his  attitude  remained  the  same  dur- 
ing the  whole  journey.  He  sighed  and  sighed 
again,  gently  moaned,  wrung  his  hands,  murmured 
prayers,  accompanied  by  many  signs  of  the  cross, 
saluted  with  a  "dip"  all  the  churches  and  crosses 
on  the  road,  and  kept  that  silence  which  befits 
the  oppressed.  At  Doullens,  his  behaviour  did 
not  change.  He  was  eternally  praying,  kneeling, 
prostrating  himself.  No  one  was  touched ;  his  con- 
temporaries, rightfully  or  wrongfully,  did  not  take 
Monsieur  du  Maine's  piety  very  seriously,  but  it 
helped  to  pass  the  time  which  hung  heavily  on  his 
hands.     He  had  a  few  books,  but  neither  paper  nor 


262         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

pens;  when  he  wished  for  these,  he  was  forced  to 
apply  to  the  ofificer  who  mounted  guard  over  him 
and  to  show  him  all  he  wrote.  His  only  relaxation 
was  to  play  cards  with  his  valets. 

When  he  was  questioned  he  burst  into  protesta- 
tions of  innocence  and  ignorance.  What  was  it 
all  about?  What  harm  had  he  done?  He  was 
profoundly  attached  to  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  who 
some  day  would  acknowledge  it,  and  yet  the  Duke 
of  Orleans  believed  the  atrocious  calumnies  of  his 
foes!     In  very  truth,  he  was  most  unfortunate! 

Facts  were  shown  him,  the  confessions  of  the 
duchess  communicated  to  him.  Then  he  grew 
angry.  This  man,  gentle  thus  far,  exclaimed  in 
horror  and  indignation  at  having  such  a  wife,  a 
woman  capable  of  conspiracy  and  bold  enough  to 
implicate  him  —  him,  to  whom  nothing  had  ever 
been  confided,  for  he  knew  nothing,  had  guessed 
nothing;  all  had  been  hidden  from  him,  because  it 
was  well  known  that  he  would  never  have  tolerated 
such  doings.  He  had  often  enough  forbidden  the 
duchess  to  see  the  * '  cabal  makers. "  If  he  had  had 
wind  of  anything  he  would  at  once  have  revealed 
it  to  the  Duke  of  Orleans.  What  was  certain  was 
that,  when  he  recovered  his  liberty,  he  would  never 
again  see  Madame  du  Maine,  Let  no  one  dare  to 
speak  to  him  of  her.  He  conspire  against  the  Duke 
of  Orleans!  .   .   .  What  an  abominable  calumny! 

He  never  could  be  driven  from  this  position. 
He  remained  mournful  and  impenetrable.  The 
truth  of  the  matter  has  never  really  been  sifted. 


PHILIPPE   DUC   D'ORLEANS 
From  an  old  copper  print 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  262 

It  is  impossible  to  tell  what  Monsieur  du  Maine 
knew  or  what  he  did  not  know.  It  seems  certain 
that  he  never  took  an  active  part  in  the  plot;  on 
the  other  hand,  it  is  difficult  to  admit  that  a 
man  as  wide  awake  as  he  had  never  guessed,  in 
his  own  home,  a  secret  so  carelessly  hidden. 
However  that  may  be,  it  must  be  admitted  in  his 
favour,  that  he  never  uttered  a  word  that  could 
in  the  least  compromise  others.  Monsieur  du 
Maine  had  all  the  more  merit  in  this  that  he  was 
horribly  frightened.  At  the  least  disturbance  in 
the  citadel,  his  face  would  become  livid;  he 
already  saw  himself  on  the  scaffold. 

Madame  du  Maine's  arrest  made  more  noise. 
Her  high  birth  gave  her  the  right  to  be  appre- 
hended by  a  duke.  Monsieur  d'Ancenis,  who  pre- 
sented himself  at  rue  St.  Honore  at  seven  o'clock 
in  the  morning  before  daylight.  The  duchess  had 
just  fallen  asleep,  after  having  spent  the  night 
writing  a  memoir  in  her  own  defence.  She  and 
her  women  had  to  be  routed  out  of  bed.  No  man 
ever  had  so  disagreeable  a  duty  to  perform.  The 
little  duchess,  unlike  her  husband,  did  not  belong 
to  the  tribe  of  lambs.  She  received  Monsieur 
d'Ancenis  and  his  compliments  very  sourly,  flew 
out  violently  as  to  the  indignity  of  thus  treating 
a  person  of  her  rank,  railed  against  the  Duke  of 
Orleans  and  his  government,  and  refused  to  make 
the  least  haste.  She  was  trying  to  gain  time, 
trusting  that  her  family  would  come  to  her  aid, 
and   she  resisted,    discussed,    scolded,    chattered, 


264         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

claiming  first  one  thing,  then  another.  There  was 
a  long  scene,  violent  on  her  side,  about  a  casket 
containing  jewels,  worth  a  million,  and  which  she 
insisted  on  taking  with  her.  The  Duke  of  An- 
cenis,  who  had  his  orders,  energetically  opposed 
this.  She  appeared  to  yield,  and  the  casket  was 
discovered  two  days  later  in  her  luggage. 

All  this  lasted  four  hours,  — four  hours  of  resist- 
ance and  of  outcries.  Finally  Monsieur  d'An- 
cenis  took  her  by  the  hand,  declaring  that  he  had 
had  enough  of  it  alh  He  led  her  to  the  door, 
when  she  had  another  fit  of  rage  in  perceiving 
two  simple  hackney  coaches.  He  pretended  to 
force  her  into  such  a  vehicle!  And  she  was  a 
Cond^!  Yet,  she  had  to  enter  the  vile  coach. 
During  the  drive,  the  comedy  changed  to  tragedy. 
She  took  on  the  airs  of  a  great  queen,  persecuted 
and  indignant.  The  duke  had  confided  her  to  a 
lieutenant  named  La  Billarderie.  Madame  du 
Maine,  calling  to  her  aid  her  theatrical  reminis- 
cences, overwhelmed  La  Billarderie  with  tirades 
on  her  misfortunes,  on  the  hard  cushions  of  the 
carriage,  on  the  barbarity  of  her  enemies.  She 
mingled  very  energetic  and  familiar  epithets  with 
the  most  literary  apostrophes,  changing  the  tone 
of  imprecations  for  that  of  suppressed  sorrow; 
she  pretended  illness,  appealed  to  La  Billarderie's 
good  heart  to  drive  less  rapidly,  to  rest  longer,  to 
obtain  a  better  carriage. 

La  Billarderie  was  no  monster.  He  was  not, 
on  the  other  hand,  a  high  personage,  and  the  sup- 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  265 

plications  of  a  princess  moved  him  greatly.  He 
was  full  of  attentions  toward  his  prisoner,  and 
endeavoured  to  procure  for  her  all  the  comforts 
he  could  command.  He  could  not,  however,  es- 
cape  a  scene  when,  on  the  third  day,  he  was  forced 
to  tell  her  that  she  was  being  taken  to  the  Fortress 
of  Dijon.  The  duchess  was  crushed  by  the  blow. 
It  had  never  occurred  to  her  that  she  was  to  be 
put  in  a  real  prison.  She  fancied  that  she  would 
be  given  a  beautiful  "royal  castle,"  where  she 
would  be  surrounded  by  a  court  and  play  at  the 
captive  as  she  had  played  at  being  a  conspirator. 
The  idea  of  being  shut  in  between  four  walls,  with 
her  women,  revolted  her;  it  was  sheer  treason! 
The  idea  of  falling  into  the  power  of  her  hated 
nephew,  Monsieur  le  Due,  convulsed  her  with  fury. 
She  exclaimed,  addressing  herself  to  La  Billar- 
derie : 

"  Aux  fureurs  de  Junon  Jupiter  m'abandonne!  " 

then,  in  prose,  she  stormed  against  her  detested 
nephew,  and  poured  out  against  him  a  thousand 
amusing  invectives  —  even  in  her  anger  she  was 
witty;  this  completed  the  conquest  of  La  Billar- 
derie  and  brought  him  to  her  feet.  He  did  his 
best  to  console  her.  He  ordered  frequent  halts, 
and  lingered  where  she  chose.  The  coach  was 
changed.  Yet,  in  spite  of  all,  Dijon  was  at. last 
reached,  and  Madame  du  Maine  with  two  maids 
was  incarcerated  in  the  citadel. 

Later,  she  liked  to  say  that  she  had  been  sub- 


266         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

jected  to  all  "the  horrors  of  captivity."  The  re- 
gent, however,  who  was  good-natured,  softened 
those  horrors.  He  allowed  her  to  have  a  lady  in 
waiting,  a  companion,  a  doctor,  a  chaplain,  five 
maids,  to  go  from  Dijon  to  Chalons  and  from  Cha- 
lons to  a  country  house,  to  communicate  with  the 
outer  world,  and,  before  long,  to  receive  visits.  In 
spite  of  all  this,  Madame  du  Maine  sank  into  deep 
despair.  All  her  courage  left  her,  and  she  thought 
herself  the  most  unfortunate  of  women.  In  vain 
those  about  her  tried  to  entertain  her.  She  some- 
times allowed  herself  to  be  persuaded  and  would 
even  play  cards,  but  with  the  air  of  a  martyr,  say- 
ing, in  a  sad  and  dolorous  voice :  ' '  Let  the  Duke  of 
Orleans  judge  of  my  sorrows  by  my  pleasures." 
She  had  lost  all  her  insolence;  all  her  pride  even. 
The  little  duchess,  grown  affrighted,  wept  copi- 
ously, begged  and  supplicated.  The  commander 
of  the  Chalons  citadel,  a  ' '  gentle  and  compassionate 
soul,"  wrote,  June  30,  17 19,  to  Monsieur  le  Blanc, 
secretary  of  state: 

"...  Then  Madame  du  Maine,  falling  into  a 
sort  of  despair  and  weeping  bitterly,  swore  in  the 
strongest  and  most  sacred  terms  that  she  was  inno- 
cent, saying  that  evidently  she  was  doomed  to  die 
here ;  that  her  enemies  were  waiting  for  her  death 
in  order  to  accuse  her  with  impunity,  but  that  at 
her  last  hour  she  would  instruct  her  confessor  to 
proclaim  to  the  whole  of  France  that  she  died 
innocent  of  all  the  charges  brought  against  her, 
that  she  would  swear  to  all  this  on  the  Host  as  she 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  267 

received  it,  and  that  several  times  she  had  already 
thought  of  doing  this.  I  endeavoured  to  calm 
her.   ..." 

The  heroine  had  disappeared,  leaving  in  her  place 
an  old  child,  in  fear  of  a  whipping,  and  crying  be- 
cause its  playthings  had  been  taken  away.  If 
our  own  weaknesses  could  only  make  us  less  severe 
for  those  of  others,  Madame  du  Maine  would  have 
accumulated  a  full  store  of  indulgence  for  her  timid 
husband,  during  the  five  months  of  Dijon  and  the 
three  at  Chalons. 

Her  abbes  and  court  poets  whom  she  had  en- 
rolled, much  against  their  will,  among  her  accom- 
plices, did  not  on  their  side  cut  a  better  figure. 
The  Cardinal  of  Polignac  had  been  exiled  in  his 
abbey  of  Anchin  in  Flanders,  where  his  handsome 
face  and  his  graces  were  quite  lost,  and  he  was  con- 
sumed with  sorrow  and  fear.  He  was  even  more 
terrified  than  the  Duke  of  Maine,  and  he  deplored 
the  loss  of  his  Anti  Lucrece,  seized  with  the  docu- 
ments of  the  plot.  Abbe  Dubois  sent  him  back 
his  manuscript,  saw  that  he  had  plenty  of  money, 
and  allowed  him  to  receive  what  visits  he  chose. 
These  delicate  attentions  did  not  reassure  the  car- 
dinal, who  could  not  get  over  his  fright.  He  was 
furiously  angry  with  the  Duchess  of  Maine  for  hav- 
ing used  her  authority  to  bring  him  to  this  pretty 
pass. 

Abb^  Brigault  continued  to  reveal  all  he  knew; 
more  still.  He  betrayed  even  the  valets  under 
pretext  that  the  salvation  of  his  soul  required  him 


268         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

to  tell  the  whole  truth.  Tartuffe  would  not  have 
disclaimed  the  letter  which  he  wrote  to  the  wife  of 
one  of  the  conspirators  whom  he  had  denoimced : 

' '  Madam  :  It  is  with  the  liveliest  sorrow  that  I 
write  to-day  in  order  to  warn  you  that  I  have  de- 
termined to  reveal  to  His  Royal  Highness  all  that 
has  come  to  my  knowledge.  God  is  my  witness 
that,  had  I  with  my  life's  blood  been  able  to  save 
Monsieur  de  Pompadour  I  would  have  shed  it  will- 
ingly. But,  Madam,  you  know  the  claims  of  re- 
ligion. .  .  .  Convicted  of  having  been  the  soul  of 
this  unfortunate  intrigue,  I  could  only  hope  to 
obtain  the  absolution  of  my  sins  by  rendering  a 
faithful  account  of  the  truth.  I  was  forced  either 
to  die  in  despair  or  to  make  the  revelations  re- 
quired of  me.  I  remembered  the  advice  which 
you  yourself  gave  me,  and  I  do  not  think  I  could 
make  a  mistake  in  following  the  mandates  of  re- 
ligion." 

The  holy  man! 

Monsieur  de  Pompadour,  a  great  swaggerer  in 
words,  cut  a  rather  mean  figure  in  danger.  He 
made  what  he  was  pleased  to  call  an  "ingenuous 
confession."  We  have  the  document  under  our 
eyes.  Monsieur  de  Pompadour  denounces  every- 
body, and  deplores  most  piteously  the  bad  state 
of  his  fortune. 

Malezieu  had  been  arrested  at  Sceaux,  at  the 
same  time  as  the  Duke  of  Maine.  After  an  hon- 
ourable resistance  he,  like  the  others,  ended  by 
telling  everything.     One  person   alone  remained 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  ^6g 

as  firm  as  a  rock :  Madame  de  Staal.  She  was  brave 
and  she  was  quite  happy  in  the  Bastille.  She  had 
two  admirers  there;  she  had  never  had  so  much 
liberty,  and  she  was  in  no  hurry  to  leave. 

The  regent  wanted  to  wind  up  the  affair,  but  he 
wished  to  do  so  with  honour  and  so  that  no  one 
should  accuse  him  of  persecuting  the  innocent. 
He  promised  free  pardon  to  all  who  would  confess 
their  wrongs.  Madame  du  Maine  was  forced  to 
drink  the  chalice  and  make  a  public  confession. 
Her  Declaration  is  very  amusing.  Her  great  fear 
is  lest  she  might  be  made  responsible  for  the  abom- 
inable style  used  by  the  committee  of  lords.  She 
trembles  that  her  reputation  of  superior  mind  shall 
be  compromised,  and  she  insists  upon  the  sorrow 
which  the  twaddle  of  Monsieur  de  Pompadour  and 
the  "sheer  gibberish"  of  Monsieur  de  Laval  had 
caused  her.  On  several  occasions  she  protests  that 
she  never  in  the  slightest  degree  ' '  corrected ' '  these 
writings.  Having  thus  at  once  cleared  the  most 
important  point  and  saved  her  literary  honour, 
Madame  du  Maine  deigns  to  remember  her  hus- 
band : ' '  He  never  knew  anything  of  these  intrigues. 
I  hid  them  from  him  more  than  from  any  other 
living  being,  .  .  .  and  when  Monsieur  du  Maine 
entered  my  room,  while  I  was  speaking  to  my  con- 
fidants on  these  matters,  we  immediately  changed 
the  conversation."  Unfortunately  for  Monsieur 
du  Maine,  she  added  while  speaking  of  him,  that 
she  would  never  have  said  a  word  to  so  timid  a 
man,  for  he  would  have  been  capable,  in  his  fright, 


270         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

of  denouncing  all.  These  words  were  repeated; 
the  Declaration  of  Madame  du  Maine  was  read  in 
the  council  of  regency;  and  the  Duke  of  Orleans 
considered  that  he  was  sufficiently  avenged  on 
both  husband  and  wife.  The  doors  of  the  prisons 
were  opened.  Poets  and  nobles,  abbes  and  valets, 
each  returned  to  his  avocations. 

Monsieur  de  Pompadour,  with  his  pardon,  re- 
ceived an  alms  of  40,000  francs  which  he  pocketed. 

Madame  du  Maine  returned  to  Sceaux  (January, 
1720)  with  a  great  explosion  of  joy.  She  soon 
obtained  leave  to  go  to  Paris  and  to  make  her 
courtesy  to  her  enemy,  the  regent.  She  threw 
her  arms  about  his  neck  and  kissed  him  on  both 
cheeks. 

Monsieur  du  Maine  took  advantage  of  the  cir- 
cumstances to  get  rid  of  his  wife.  He  could  not 
forgive  her  for  the  terrors  he  had  endured  in  prison 
and  he  feared  her  reckless  extravagance.  He  re- 
tired to  Clagny,  refused  to  see  the  duchess,  and 
declared  that  henceforth  she  must  content  herself 
with  a  pension.  She  did  so  well  that,  six  months 
later,  she  brought  him  back  to  Sceaux,  when  he 
took  on  his  yoke  once  more  and  endeavoured  to 
put  some  sort  of  order  in  the  accounts. 

The  Cardinal  of  Polignac  did  not  forgive  Ma- 
dame du  Maine.  He  was  much  laughed  at  by  the 
public  for  his  terror  of  her.  The  duchess  had  sent 
him  a  copy  of  her  Declaration.  He  feared  to  throw 
a  glance  on  that  paper,  and  gave  it  to  a  trustworthy 
man  who  assured  him  that  he  could  "  read  it  with- 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  271 

out  danger."     He  sulked  and  avoided  Sceaux  to 
the  end. 

The  best  pleased  of  all  was  an  old  marquess, 
Monsieur  de  Bonrepos,  who  had  been  forgotten  in 
the  Bastille.  He  was  very  poor,  and  was  delighted 
to  have  board  and  lodging  for  nothing.  After  five 
years,  a  lieutenant  of  police  discovered  him  and 
wanted  to  set  him  free.  He  protested.  At  last  it 
was  decided  that  he  should  be  sent  to  the  Invalides. 
He  went,  grumbling.  He  greatly  disliked  this 
change  in  his  habits. 

Madame  de  Staal  also  was  set  free,  and  thus 
ended  this  terrible  conspiracy.  For  the  other 
intrigues  of  Alberoni  which  brought  on  war  be- 
tween France  and  Spain,  historians  should  be 
consulted. 

IV 

All  these  ugly  stories  of  law  suits,  of  plots,  and 
prisons,  are  so  out  of  keeping  with  the  ribbons 
and  rattles  of  this  princess  Hop  o'  My  Thumb,  that 
it  is  difficult  to  take  them  seriously.  They  make 
one  think  of  the  tragic  interludes  introduced  by 
Moli^re  in  his  Psyche.  The  first  of  these  might 
well  represent  the  road  to  Dijon,  where  the  poor 
little  duchess  was  to  be  left  at  the  tender  mercies 
of  her  wicked  one-eyed  nephew.  "The  stage  is 
encumbered  with  horrible  rocks,  and  in  the  dis- 
tance is  seen  a  frightful  desert.  In  this  desert, 
Psyche  is  to  be  exposed  so  that  the  oracle  may  be 
fulfilled.  .  .  .      Sorrowful    women,    afflicted    men, 


272         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

singing  and  dancing.  ..."  How  well  this  ballet  of 
"  sorrowing  women  "  and  "  afflicted  men  "  represents 
the  court  of  Sceaux  in  time  of  trouble!  Another 
interlude,  that  of  Hades,  reminds  one  of  the 
"frightful"  citadel  of  Chalons,  when  Madame  du 
Maine  thought  to  die  and  wept  so  copiously.  At 
the  most  tragic  moment  "sprites  performing  acro- 
batic feats  mingle  with  the  furies."  These  sprites 
never  failed  to  show  themselves  in  the  midst  of 
the  most  dramatic  scenes  of  the  little  duchess's 
life.  By  their  capers  they  somewhat  marred  the 
gravity  of  the  scene. 

At  last,  the  nightmare  being  over,  the  culprits 
breathed  once  more.  The  lugubrious  visions  that 
had  haunted  their  sleep  vanished;  they  no  longer 
fancied  that  they  heard  the  scaffold  being  raised, 
or  listened  for  the  steps  of  the  executioners. 
Their  eyes  rested  with  delight  on  the  smiling  sky 
of  Sceaux,  their  souls  opened  voluptuously  to  the 
joys  of  court  verses  and  innocent  games.  The 
lovely  valley  greeted  the  return  of  its  sovereign. 
Smiling  Graces  peopled  once  more  the  bowers, 
not  in  crowds  or  giddily,  but  little  by  little,  hesi- 
tatingly, like  prudent  divinities,  feeling  their  way, 
anxious  to  offend  no  one.  Faithful  Malezieu  threw 
in  the  air  his  joyous  songs.  He  improvised  the  fol- 
lowing verses  on  the  day  of  his  mistress's  return: 

Oui,  oui,  j'oublie  et  ma  captivite, 
Et  mes  soucis,  mes  ans  et  ma  colique 
Songer  convient  k  soulas  et  gaiete, 
Ouand  je  revois  votre  face  angelique. 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  273 

All  things  fell  back  into  the  accustomed  order, 
and  Madame  du  Maine  found  herself  exactly  the 
same  as  before  her  departure  for  Versailles,  when 
Louis  XIV  was  dying ;  only  she  was  five  years  older. 

No  one  was  ever  more  incorrigible.  After  this 
severe  lesson,  and  in  spite  of  her  real  intelligence, 
she  had  not  lost  one  jot  of  her  pride,  nor  given 
up  a  single  childish  habit,  nor  learnt  anything 
about  the  real  world,  nor  unlearnt  a  word  or  a 
gesture  of  her  character  of  a  painted,  powdered, 
be-ribboned  shepherdess.  She  w^as  one  of  those 
persons  whose  stock  of  ideas  is  all  made  in  ad- 
vance, and  who  refuse  to  accept  self-evident 
facts,  when  these  are  unpleasant.  It  was  said  of 
Madame  du  Maine  "that  she  never  left  home;  she 
had  never  even  looked  out  of  the  window."  The 
only  trace  left  in  her  mind  by  the  bed  of  justice 
and  all  that  followed  was  a  wholesome  fear  of  the 
police.  She  was  forever  cured  of  politics.  We 
possess  a  list  of  her  entertainments  during  a 
whole  year.     No  one  could  find  any  fault  with  it. 

This  list  forms  a  little  manuscript  volume  en- 
titled, Almanack  de  VAnnee  17 12,*  and  divided 
into  months.  It  contains  certain  passages  not  to 
be  quoted  here;  the  old-time  aristocracy  did  not 
object  to  dedicating  its  jokes  to  Monsieur  Purgon ; 
but  what  can  be  culled  from  the  Almanac  cer- 
tainly offered  no  danger  to  the  state. 

January  began  by  a  quatrain  where  Madame 
du   Maine   is  personified   by  Venus.     Venus  was 

^  See  the  Com^die  a  la  cour  by  Adolphe  Jullien. 


274         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

forty -five  years  of  age;  that  is  a  mere  detail,  since 
goddesses  never  grow  old. 

Venus,  par  son  aspect  attirant  nos  hommages, 
Tient  sa  cour  a  Situle  et  deserte  Paphos. 
On  quittera  du  Loing  les  tranquilles  rivages 
Pour  visiter  les  mers  du  Lakanostrophos. 

This  is  somewhat  pedantic.  It  is  well  to  warn 
the  reader  that  the  fine  name  of  Lakanostrophos 
designates  a  brook  that  crossed  the  park  of  Sceaux. 

In  May,  one  reads : 

"Full  moon,  the  nth,  at  6  hours  and  29  min- 
utes of  the  evening.  Frequent  games  of  ninepins 
in  the  Chestnut  tree  enclosure. 

"Last  quarter,  the  i8th,  at  9  hours  and  24  min- 
utes in  the  morning.  Donkey  cavalcade  in  the 
forest  of  Verrieres. 

"New  moon,  the  26th,  at  5  hours  and  8  min- 
utes in  the  morning.  Grand  feast  in  the  Small 
Apartment." 

The  pleasures  of  July  are  more  intellectual : 

"Full  moon,  the  9th,  at  8  hours  and  47  minutes 
in  the  morning.  Explanations  of  Homer,  of 
Sophocles,  of  Euripides,  of  Terence,  of  Virgil,  etc., 
improvised  by  Master  Nicholas." 

Nicholas  was  Mal^zieu's  nickname. 

"Last  quarter,  the  i6th,  at  5  hours  and  52 
minutes  in  the  morning. 

"  Great  discussion  on  the  immortality  of  the 
Soul  and  on  Descartes'  sentiment  with  regard  to 
the  souls  of  animals." 


RENE   DESCARTES 
From  an  engraving  by  J,  Chapman 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  275 

It  is  to  be  noticed  that  the  word  "soul"  is  written 
with  a  capital  S  when  men  are  in  question,  and 
that  a  small  one  is  deemed  sufficient  for  the  souls 
of  animals.  This  inequality  marks  the  official 
philosophy  of  the  court  at  Sceaux.  To  her  last 
breath  Madame  du  Maine  remained  a  faithful 
disciple  of  Descartes. 

The  year  172 1  was  thus  profitably  spent  from 
beginning  to  end,  and  those  which  followed  were 
equally  well  filled.  Each  season  there  was  some 
new  gallant  invention.  Madame  du  Maine  sur- 
rounded herself  with  shepherds,  whose  duty  it 
was  to  celebrate  her  charms  after  a  bucolic  fash- 
ion; there  was  a  "head  shepherd,"  Monsieur  de 
Saint  Aulaire,  celebrated  for  his  little  verses. 
Monsieur  de  Saint  Aulaire  was  then  nearly  ninety 
years  of  age,  and  Sainte-Beuve  maliciously  re- 
marks that  "it  made  Madame  du  Maine  seem 
much  younger  to  have  chosen  so  old  a  shepherd; 
by  his  side,  she  was  a  mere  child."  The  old 
gentleman  acquitted  himself  most  wittily  of  his 
delicate  function  of  chief  flatterer.  It  was  for 
Madame  du  Maine  that  he  improvised  his  cele- 
brated quatrain  at  a  ball  where  she  pressed  him 
to  unmask: 

La  divinity  qui  s'amuse 

A  me  demander  mon  secret, 

Si  j'etais  ApoUon  ne  serait  pas  ma  Muse; 

EUe  serait  Thetis  et  le  jour  finirait. 

She  had  an  avowed  lover,  La  Motte,  author  of 
Ines  de  Castro,  with  whom  she  played  the  ingenue. 


276  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

She  wrote  letters  to  him,  intended  to  delight 
Paris  drawing-rooms,  and  he  answered  that  he 
had  "worn  out"  her  signature  by  dint  of  kissing 
it.  La  Motte  was  blind  and  crippled.  He  was 
but  the  better  suited  for  his  part  of  lover ;  he  was 
less  compromising  than  the  handsome  Polignac, 
cardinal  though  he  was. 

The  duchess  hid  Voltaire,  at  a  time  when  he 
had  quarrelled  with  the  powers  (1746).  He  was 
shut  up  in  a  distant  room,  the  blinds  of  which 
were  closed.  He  lived  there  two  months.  Dur- 
ing the  day  he  wrote,  by  the  light  of  candles, 
Zadig  and  other  tales.  At  nightfall,  he  myste- 
riously slipped  into  the  duchess's  apartments  and 
read  her  what  he  had  written.  Those  were  red- 
letter  nights. 

She  gave  numberless  comedies,  tragedies, 
operas,  farces,  and  ballets.  Voltaire  furnished  her 
with  many  plays,  and  as  at  that  time  whoever 
received  Voltaire  received  Madame  du  Chatelet, 
the  learned  translator  of  Newton  often  took  the 
part  of  the  heroine  in  those  plays.  Madame  de 
Staal  gaily  relates  in  her  letters  to  Madame  du 
Deffand  the  visit  of  this  celebrated  but  some- 
what embarrassing  couple  during  the  summer  of 
1747.  The  duchess  was  then  at  the  castle  of 
Anet  which  had  fallen  to  her  by  inheritance  and 
where,  toward  the  end  of  her  life,  she  often  so- 
journed. 

"(August  15,  1747)  Madame  du  Chatelet  and 
Voltaire,    who   had   announced   their   arrival   for 


MARCHIONESS  DU  CHATELET 
From  an  old  copper  print 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  277 

to-day,  and  whose  whereabouts  nobody  knew,  ar- 
rived yesterday,  at  about  midnight,  Hke  two 
ghosts,  with  an  odour  of  embalmed  bodies  which 
they  seemed  to  have  brought  from  their  graves. 
We  had  just  left  the  supper  table.  They  were,  at 
all  events,  famished  ghosts.  Supper  had  to  be  pre- 
pared for  them,  and,  besides,  beds  had  to  be  im- 
provised. The  Concierge,  fast  asleep,  had  to  be 
routed  out.  Gaya,  who  had  offered  his  lodgings 
in  case  of  need,  was  forced  to  give  them  up,  and 
moved  with  as  much  haste  and  displeasure  as  an 
army  taken  by  surprise,  leaving  a  part  of  his 
baggage  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  Voltaire 
was  well  pleased  with  his  quarters,  but  this  by  no 
means  consoled  Gaya.  As  to  the  lady,  she  found 
her  bed  ill -made;  she  had  to  be  moved  elsewhere 
to-day.  Be  it  known  that  she  had  made  that  bed 
herself,  for  lack  of  servants." 

This  letter  will  rather  upset  the  preconceived 
ideas  of  more  than  one  reader.  It  is  not  generally 
known  that,  when  on  a  visit  to  princes,  one  was 
exposed  to  the  necessity  of  making  one's  own 
bed. 

The  following  day,  Madame  de  Staal  added  this 
postscript : 

"Our  ghosts  do  not  put  in  an  appearance  during 
the  day ;  yesterday  they  showed  themselves  at  ten 
o'clock  in  the  evening.  I  doubt  whether  we  shall 
see  more  of  them  to-day,  one  of  them  is  so  occu- 
pied in  setting  down  heroic  deeds,  and  the  other 
in  explaining   Newton.     They   neither   play    nor 


278  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

drive  out,  in  society  they  are  of  no  value;  their 
learned  writings  are  of  small  help  to  us." 

Madame  de  Staal  slandered  the  '  *  ghosts. ' '  They 
were  of  some  value  to  society  after  all,  for  they  were 
zealously  rehearsing  Voltaire's  Comte  de  Boursoufle 
for  the  delectation  of  their  hostess.  On  the  20th, 
a  new  letter  was  written  to  Madame  du  Deffand : 

"Yesterday,  Madame  du  Chaletet  took  posses- 
sion of  her  third  apartment.  She  could  not  stand 
the  one  that  had  been  given  her ;  it  was  noisy,  there 
was  smoke  without  fire  (this,  it  seems  to  me,  might 
pass  for  her  emblem).  It  is  not  at  night,  she  told 
me,  that  the  noise  disturbs  her;  but  in  the  daytime 
during  her  work,  it  puts  her  ideas  to  flight.  Just 
now  she  is  reviewing  her  principles;  this  is  a  yearly 
exercise  with  her;  otherwise,  they  might  escape 
her,  and  perhaps  fly  away  so  far  that  she  would  be 
left  without  a  single  one.  I  shrewdly  suspect  that 
her  head  is  their  prison,  and  not  at  all  their  birth- 
place. They  have  to  be  severely  watched.  She 
prefers  the  attitude  which  this  occupation  bestows 
on  her  to  any  amusement,  and  insists  on  showing 
herself  only  after  nightfall.  Voltaire  has  com- 
posed gallant  verses  which  make  up  somewhat  for 
the  bad  effect  produced  by  their  peculiar  conduct." 

The  Comte  de  Boursoufle  was  acted  on  the  25th 
of  August.  Madame  du  Chatelet  took  the  part  of 
Mademoiselle  de  la  Cochonniere.  Physically  she 
was  not  suited  to  it.  Mademoiselle  de  la  Cochon- 
niere should  be  "short  and  stout."  Madame  du 
Chatelet  was  a  tall,  thin  woman,  flat-breasted,  and 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  279 

with  a  long,  bony  face.  She  achieved,  however, 
a  very  brilhant  success.  Madame  de  Staal  herself 
confesses  as  much :  "Mademoiselle  de  la  Cochonniere 
entered  so  admirably  into  the  extravagance  of  the 
part  that  she  gave  me  a  great  deal  of  pleasure. ' ' 

The  ghosts  left  the  day  after  the  representation, 
and  Madame  du  Deffand  was  invited  to  fill  their 
place.     Her  friend  writes  to  her  on  that  occasion : 

"(August  30th).  A  good  apartment  is  reserved 
for  you ;  it  is  the  one  of  which  Madame  du  Chatelet, 
after  a  careful  study  of  the  house,  took  possession. 
There  will  be  fewer  pieces  of  furniture  than  she  put 
in  it ;  for  she  had  devastated  her  former  lodgings  to 
furnish  this  one.  Six  or  seven  tables  were  discov- 
ered in  her  room;  she  requires  them  of  different 
sizes,  some  immense,  on  which  to  spread  her  papers, 
others  solid  for  her  toilet  articles,  light  ones  for  her 
ribbons  and  her  jewels.  All  this  care  did  not  pre- 
serve her  from  the  same  accident  which  happened 
to  Philip  II,  who  had  spent  the  whole  night  writ- 
ing despatches,  and  then  had  them  ruined  by  the 
upsetting  of  a  bottle  of  ink.  Our  fine  lady  did  not 
imitate  the  patience  of  that  prince;  but  it  is  true 
that  he  had  only  busied  himself  with  state  affairs, 
while  what  the  ink  effaced  in  her  case  was  algebra, 
much  more  difficult  to  reconstruct. 

"The  day  following  their  departure,  I  received 
a  four-page  letter  and  with  it  a  note,  announcing 
a  great  disaster.  Monsieur  de  Voltaire  had  lost 
his  play,  forgotten  to  claim  the  different  parts, 
and  mislaid  the  prologue.     I  am  ordered  to  gather 


28o  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

all  this  together,  and  to  shut  it  up  behind  a  hun- 
dred locks.  I  should  have  considered  a  latch  suffi- 
cient to  keep  such  a  treasure,  but  the  orders  have 
been  well  and  duly  executed." 

It  was  no  sinecure  to  entertain  so  great  a  man 
and  his  brilliant  companion.  Three  months  later 
they  returned,  to  Sceaux  this  time,  and  their  visit 
was  the  signal  for  extraordinary  and  most  inex- 
plicable disorder.  Operas  were  sung.  Madame 
du  Chatelet,  who  possessed  a  "divine  voice,"  ap- 
peared twice  in  Isse,  a  great  heroic  opera  by  La 
Motte  and  Destouches.  At  the  first  representa- 
tion, there  were  so  many  guests  that  Madame  du 
Maine  was  exasperated.  At  the  second,  an  intol- 
erable crowd  filled  the  house.  The  duchess  sup- 
pressed the  opera  and  declared  that  only  plays, 
which  attracted  fewer  people,  should  be  given. 
On  the  1 5th  of  December  a  new  piece  by  Voltaire, 
La  Prude,  adapted  from  the  English,^  was  acted. 
"The  crush  was  so  excessive,"  relates  the  Duke  of 
Luynes  in  his  Memoirs,  "that  Madame  du  Maine 
was  disgusted.  She  insisted  on  seeing  all  the 
tickets  which  had  been  sent." 

That  is  what  she  ought  to  have  done  at  first. 
The  mystery  was  soon  cleared.  Voltaire  and 
Madame  du  Chatelet  had  sent  out  at  least  five 
hundred  invitations  thus  worded : 

"New  actors  will  represent,  Friday,  December 
15th,  on  the  stage  of  Sceaux,  a  new  comedy  of  five 
acts  in  verse. 

1  From  the  Plain  Dealer  by  Wycherly. 


VOLTAIRE 

From  an  engraving  by  James  Mollison  of  the  picture  by  Largillier  in  the 

Institute  of  France 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  281 

"Come  who  will,  quite  without  ceremony;  at 
six  o'clock  sharp.  .  .  .  After  six  o'clock  the  doors 
will  open  for  no  one.  ..." 

The  public  rushed  to  the  entertainment,  and 
"without  any  ceremony  "  invaded  the  castle. 
Madame  du  Maine  was  very  angry,  and  her  guests 
left  earlier  than  had  been  expected. 

It  was,  however,  beyond  the  power  of  Voltaire 
to  remain  on  bad  terms  with  a  princess  who  kept 
people  from  being  sent  to  the  Bastille.  On  her 
part,  the  little  duchess  regretted  her  great  man, 
the  star  of  her  circle.  Voltaire  made  up  his  mind 
to  take  her  as  his  literary  ^geria;  such  was  the 
price  of  their  reconciliation.  She  gave  him  the 
plot  of  a  tragedy  and  corrected  the  play.  He 
thanked  her  by  calling  her,  in  his  letters,  "my 
protectress  .  .  .  my  genius  ,  .  .  soul  of  Cornelia 
.  .  .  soul  of  the  Great  Cond^ ! "  He  wrote  to  her, 
November,  1794: 

"My  Protectress:  .  .  . 

"Your  prot^g^  must  tell  Your  Highness  that  I 
have  followed  the  advice  with  which  you  honoured 
me.  You  can  scarcely  imagine  how  much  Cicero 
and  Caesar  have  gained  by  it.  Those  gentlemen 
would  have  agreed  with  you,  had  they  lived  at  the 
same  time.  I  have  just  read '  Rome  Sauvee.  Those 
parts  which  Your  Serene  Highness  embellished  pro- 
duced a  stupendous  effect.'' 

The  compliment  was  a  flattering  one.     The  next 

'  To  the  actors.  Rome  Sauvee  was  the  tragedy  due  to  Madame 
du  Maine's  collaboration. 


282  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

day,  Voltaire  went  further.     Rome  Sauvee  had  be- 
come "your  tragedy." 

"We  rehearsed  to-day  the  play  remodelled,  and 
before  whom,  Madam,  do  you  think?  Before 
Franciscans,  Jesuits,  fathers  from  the  oratory, 
academicians,  magistrates,  who  knew  their  Cati 
linaires  by  heart!  You  can  scarcely  imagine  what 
success  your  tragedy  obtained  before  that  grave 
assembly.  .  .  .  Soul  of  Cornelia!  we  shall  bring 
the  Roman  senate  to  the  feet  of  Your  Highness, 
on  Monday." 

Another  letter,  to  d'Argental  this  time,  explains 
with  great  frankness  his  enthusiasm  for  Madame 
du  Maine:  "I  need  her  protection  and  cannot 
neglect  her." 

Rome  Sauvee  was  given  at  Sceaux  June  21,  1750. 
Peace  was  signed.  But  ^geria  had  not  forgotten 
the  past  and  had  taken  her  precautions,  as  we  can 
see  by  this  note  from  Voltaire  to  the  Marchioness 
of  Malause,  written  at  Sceaux  itself,  from  one  room 
to  the  other: 

"Amiable  Colette,  beg  Her  Serene  Highness  to 
accept  our  homage  and  our  desire  to  please  her. 
There  will  not  be  in  all  more  than  fifty  persons, 
besides  the  usual  guests  of  Sceaux." 

Voltaire  took  the  part  of  Cicero,  in  which  he 
triumphed.  The  celebrated  actor  Lekain,  who 
represented  Lentulus  Sura,  says  in  his  Memoirs : 
"It  was  life  itself,  Cicero  in  person  thundering 
from  the  tribune.  ..."  Madame  du  Maine  was 
charmed  with  her  actor. 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  283 

Years  flowed  on,  and  Madame  du  Maine  con- 
tinued to  divert  herself.  Between  two  games  of 
ninepins  she  had  found  time  to  become  very  reli- 
gious, and  watched  over  the  souls  of  her  guests, 
but  even  piety  at  Sceaux  took  on  a  gallant  air. 
One  day  when  she  was  pressing  old  St.  Aulaire 
to  go  to  confession  he  answered : 

"  Ma  berg^re,  j'ai  beau  chercher, 
Je  n'ai  rien  sur  ma  conscience. 
De  gr§,ce,  faites-moi  pecher: 
Apres,  je  ferai  penitence." 

The  little  tiuchess  retorted  with  a  well-known 
quatrain,  which,  however,  is  so  very  free  that  it 
cannot  be  repeated  here. 

From  time  to  time,  death  indiscreetly  reminded 
the  ' '  nymph  of  Sceaux ' '  that  it  was  on  the  watch 
by  taking  off  one  of  her  courtiers.  Malezieu  was 
among  the  first  to  disappear.  Then  came  the 
turn  of  the  Duke  of  Maine,  who  died  of  a  cancer 
on  the  face  (1736);  his  wife  had  taken  excellent 
care  of  him.  St.  Aulaire  followed  him  at  the 
age  of  ninety-nine,  according  to  some,  at  a  hun- 
dred according  to  others.  Madame  d'Estrees, 
Madame  du  Maine's  great  friend,  died  in  1747, 
Madame  de  Staal  three  years  later. 

These  departures  for  the  other  world  were 
troublesome.  They  disturbed  the  rehearsals, 
broke  up  the  donkey  rides.  But  it  was  all  quickly 
over;  the  dead  were  speedily  done  with.  "This 
afternoon,"  wrote  Madame  de  Staal,  "we  are  to 


284         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

bury  Madame  d'Estrees;  then  the  curtain  will  fall, 
and  she  will  be  forgotten."  A  few  days  later 
she  adds,  "It  must  be  confessed  that  we  go  a 
little  beyond  human  nature.  Already  I  see  my 
own  funeral  pomp;  if  the  sorrow  is  greater,  the 
ornaments  will  be  in  proportion."  After  all, 
why  should  Madame  du  Maine  have  taken  these 
things  to  heart?  The  dead  could  no  longer 
amuse  her,  they  were  quite  useless,  and  she  was 
eager  to  get  rid  of  their  "funeral  pomp  "  as  quickly 
as  possible.  She  said  with  ingenuousness  that  she 
was  "unfortunate  enough  not  to  be  able  to  get 
along  without  certain  people  for  whom  she  really 
cared  nothing."  Thus  is  explained  the  fact  that 
she  was  observed  "to  learn  with  indifference  of 
the  death  of  those  who,  when  they  had  been  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  late  for  cards,  or  for  a  drive, 
had  caused  her  to  shed  tears. " 

At  seventy-seven,  Madame  du  Maine  continued 
to  divert  herself.  Voltaire,  from  Berlin,  Decem- 
ber 1 8th,  1752,  wrote  to  one  of  the  wits  at  Sceaux: 
"Put  me,  as  ever,  at  Madame  du  Maine's  feet. 
She  is  a  predestined  soul  and  will  love  the  theatre 
up  to  her  last  moments,  and,  if  she  falls  ill,  I 
advise  you  instead  of  Extreme  Unction  to  ad- 
minister a  fine  comedy.  One  dies  as  one  has 
lived;  I  die,  I  who  write  these  words,  scribbling 
more  verses  than  La  Motte  Houdard." 

She  remained  violent  and  capricious,  which,  as 
time  went  on,  grew  less  and  less  becoming;  a 
young  princess  may  stamp  her  foot  and  cry  for 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  285 

the  moon  not  without  grace;  an  old  female  dwarf 
in  a  rage  is  ugly  to  look  upon  and  amuses  no  one. 
She  remained  also  tyrannical  and  unreasonable; 
she  reduced  her  guests  to  so  hard  a  slavery  that 
Destouches  one  day  made  up  his  mind  to  run 
away  from  Sceaux  as  though  it  had  been  the 
Bastille.  She  still  had  sleepless  nights  during 
which  she  had  to  be  amused  by  reading  aloud  or 
the  telling  of  stories.  She  continued  to  put  on 
"a  prodigious  quantity  of  rouge,"  ^  and  would 
remain  two  hours  before  her  mirror  during  which 
time  she  insisted  on  having  a  circle  of  admirers 
about  her.  She  was  very  fond  of  good  things  to 
eat,  but  as  she  found  it  better  for  her  health  to 
eat  alone,  it  was  only  at  her  table  that  delicate 
viands  were  served;  she  had  grown  thrifty  with 
regard  to  the  guests'  table.  She  still  kept  her 
caustic  and  vivacious  wit,  and  was  to  the  end 
eloquent  and  original.  She  lived  for  pleasure 
alone.  She  was  delighted  with  herself  and  per- 
suaded that,  if  she  was  not  a  goddess,  she  was 
next  door  to  one. 

This  goddess,  like  a  simple  mortal,  took  cold, 
and  from  this  cold  resulted  a  little  accident, 
January  the  23d,  1753.  We  leave  the  Duke  of 
Luynes  to  describe  it:  ''She  was  eternally  com- 
plaining, now  of  a  cold,  now  of  her  eyes,  and  yet, 
in  reality,  enjoyed  very  good  health,  which  her 
physical  conformation  scarcely  warranted.  Dur- 
ing a  year  or  two,  however,  she  had  been  often 

*  Memoirs   of  Luynes. 


286         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

indisposed,  and  at  the  end  died  of  a  cold  which 
she  could  not  spit  up."  To  die  of  a  cold  which 
she  could  not  "spit  up"  was  not  very  poetical 
for  a  nymph;  but  one  dies  as  one  can.  Madame 
du  Maine  left  two  sons,  the  Prince  of  Dombes  and 
the  Count  of  Eu,  who  made  but  little  noise  in  the 
world. 

Thus  ended  this  strange  little  creature.  In  the 
midst  of  her  extravagances,  of  her  peculiarities, 
of  her  unequal  moods  and  tempers,  one  thing,  at 
least,  remained  in  her  immovable  and  firmly  fixed, 
her  faith  in  the  divinity  of  her  rank.  This  is  what 
explains  her  superb  indifference  to  others,  which, 
had  she  not  been  so  very  high  a  lady,  we  should 
call  her  egotism.  And  that,  also,  is  what  makes 
her,  as  a  study,  so  curious  and  so  interesting,  just 
as,  in  a  museum,  the  skeletons  of  an  obsolete  race 
of  animals  interest  us.  It  has  been  said,  and  about 
her,  too,  "that  princes  are,  morally,  what  mon- 
sters are,  physically ;  in  them  one  sees,  spread  out, 
most  of  the  vices  hidden  in  other  men."  In  the 
time  when  she  lived,  nothing  was  more  true.  In 
our  day,  we  can  scarcely  imagine  what  princes  and 
princesses  were  two  centuries  ago  —  beings  set 
apart,  marked  on  the  forehead  with  a  divine  seal, 
freed  by  their  birthright  from  all  regard  for  other 
men,  and  subjected  to  special  moral  laws,  made 
for  them  and  for  them  only.  Modern  princes  and 
princesses  are  of  another  type.  They  constantly 
forget  that  they  are  not  made  on  the  same  pattern 
as  the  rest  of  us,  and  thus  they  make  us  forget  it 


The  Duchess  of  Maine  287 

too.     How  can  we  believe  in  them,  if  they  do  not 
beHeve  in  themselves  ? 

Respect  for  royal  domains  has  disappeared  with 
the  respect  for  royal  persons.  Sceaux,  confiscated 
by  the  Convention,  was  sold  in  1798  to  a  man  of 
low  birth,  who  demolished  the  castle  and  the  cas- 
cade, cut  down  the  trees,  and  transformed  the  park 
into  fields.  He  left  nothing  standing  but  the 
Aurora  Pavilion  and  a  fragment  of  the  park,  which 
was  bought  from  him  and  still  exists,  with  its 
trimmed  bowers,  its  lawns,  and  broken  columns. 
This  is  where  the  menagerie  used  to  be.  Public 
balls  are  now  given  here,  and,  on  Sundays,  Parisian 
grisettes  dance  in  the  avenues  where  Madame  du 
Maine  played  with  her  small  monkeys  as  she  was 
making  out  a  puzzle.  Chance  sometimes  shows 
a  humourous  sense  of  fitness.  This  pretty  nook  of 
the  menagerie  has  not  changed  its  character.  It 
has  remained  a  place  of  trifles  and  capers,  as  in 
the  days  of  the  little  duchess. 


THE  MARGRAVINE  OF  BAYREUTH 

The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth,  sister  to  the  great 
Frederick,  left  Memoirs  written  in  French,  which 
were  printed  first  in  Paris,  in  1810,  and  often  re- 
pubHshed  in  a  German  translation.  About  thirty 
years  ago,  her  correspondence  with  her  brother  was 
given  to  the  public.  Sainte-Beuve  seized  the  op- 
portunity of  drawing  the  portrait  of  this  amiable 
princess.  It  is  a  singular  fact,  that  he  studied  her 
only  through  her  correspondence  commenced  when 
she  was  over  twenty,  and  which  at  the  beginning, 
at  least,  is  not  particularly  interesting.  Not 
without  some  show  of  irritation,  he  refused  to 
speak  of  the  Memoirs,  which  picture  the  curi- 
ously interesting  childhood  and  early  youth  of 
the  Margravine  of  Bayreuth  and  of  her  brother 
Frederick  II. 

The  truth  was  that  Sainte-Beuve  had  just  found 
his  political  road  to  Damascus.  He  was  sincerely 
shocked  by  the  levity  with  which  this  king's 
daughter  treated  the  courts  of  her  day ;  he  even 
took  her  severely  to  task  for  her  ill-sounding  sar- 
casms and  for  furnishing  weapons  to  the  enemies 
of  "an  order  of  things  which  was  her  own  and 
which  she  ought  not  to  wish  to  debase  or  to  see 
destroyed." 

Sainte-Beuve's  critical  instinct,  usually  so  keen, 

288 


The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth        289 

was  here  at  fault  through  the  ardour  of  his  newly 
hatched,  and  consequently  intolerant,  reverence 
for  the  great.  This  work,  in  which  he  sees  nothing 
but  a  tissue  of  frivolous  sarcasms  directed  against 
princes,  the  "error  "  of  a  clever  woman,  gives  us, 
on  the  contrary,  a  vivid  picture  of  German  man- 
ners at  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
and  therefore  is  most  precious  to  history.  If  the 
society  described  by  the  Margravine  is  coarse,  the 
more  shocking  is  the  contrast  between  this  coarse- 
ness and  what  is  known  of  the  flowering  of  German 
civilisation  a  hundred  years  earlier,  and  the  better 
one  understands  the  disastrous  extent  of  the  Thirty 
Years'  War,  which  had  plunged  Germany  back- 
ward into  barbarism.  The  Margravine  was  bom 
just  when  the  convalescent  nation  was  once  more 
setting  forth  on  the  road  toward  those  high  desti- 
nies which  we  have  witnessed,  and  so  her  Memoirs 
show  us,  at  the  same  time,  the  triumph  of  savage 
brutality  under  her  father,  Frederick  William  I, 
and  the  latent  workings  which  prepared  for  the 
reign  of  the  great  Frederick.  The  princess  is  piti- 
less toward  the  world  in  which  she  grew  up,  and 
yet  one  feels  in  these  artless  pages  the  truth  of  what 
Frederick  II  said  about  his  father:  "It  is  by  his 
care  that  I  have  been  enabled  to  do  what  I  have 
done." 

It  will  not  perhaps  be  without  interest  to 
examine  the  society  which  the  Margravine  has 
graciously  presented  to  posterity  with  such  bound- 
less frankness,  and  to  learn  what  was  the  life  of  a 


290         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

king's  daughter  in  the  good  old  kingly  times,  when 
princes  were  envied  by  all. 


Frederick  William  I,  second  king  of  Prussia, 
and  his  queen  Sophia  Dorothea,  daughter  of  George 
I,  King  of  England  and  Elector  of  Hanover,  had 
four  sons  and  six  daughters,  without  counting  the 
children  who  died  in  infancy.  Princess  Wilhel- 
mina,  who  in  due  time  married  the  Margrave  of 
Bayreuth,  and  was  the  author  of  the  Memoirs,  was 
the  eldest  of  the  surviving  children.  She  came 
into  the  world  at  Potsdam,  July  3,  1709,  and  was 
but  ill  received  because  a  prince  had  been  expected. 
Her  first  years  were  sad,  her  youth  most  unhappy. 
Her  father  was  a  terrible  man;  her  mother  was 
very  weak,  unable  to  defend  either  herself  or  those 
belonging  to  her. 

Queen  Sophia  Dorothea  was  naturally  kind  and 
generous.  Married  to  Frederick  William,  however, 
his  violent  outbursts  alarmed  her,  and  fear  made 
her  peevish  and  unreliable.  She  was  clever  enough, 
and  yet  made  endless  silly  mistakes;  she  was  de- 
voted to  the  least  agreeable  of  husbands,  but  spent 
her  life  in  irritating  him.  She  loved  her  children, 
and  yet  when  Frederick  was  being  persecuted,  all 
she  could  find  to  do  for  him  was,  very  regularly, 
to  send  him  twelve  new  shirts  every  year.  Her 
maternal  grandmother  was  the  beautiful  Eleanore 


THE  MARGRAVINE   OF   BAYREUTH 
From  a  steel  engraving 


The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth         291 

of  Olbreuse,  in  whom  the  royal  house  of  Prussia  has 
as  an  ancestress,  the  daughter  of  a  simple  noble- 
man of  Poitou,  In  spite  of  this  blemish  the  Queen 
concentrated  in  her  person  all  the  haughtiness  of 
the  Hanoverian  House.  Her  head  was  turned  by 
her  greatness  and  she  threw  herself  in  her  pride  of 
rank,  into  a  sea  of  chimerical  adventures,  which 
often  proved  too  deep  for  her.  She  would  then 
become  vindictive,  for  this  same  pride  of  blood 
never  allowed  her  to  forgive  those  who  had  offended 
her.  A  word  from  her  husband  would  make  her 
crouch  and  quake,  but  she  avenged  herself  by 
tyrannizing  over  others.  Had  she  been  happy 
she  would  have  flowered  into  goodness  and  charm. 
Oppressed  and  crushed,  she  added  to  the  gloom  of 
the  palace,  and  one  could  only  pity  her.  She  was 
portly  and  fair-skinned,  with  well-cut,  rather  large 
features,  majestic  in  deportment,  and  appearing  to 
great  advantage  in  her  part  as  queen. 

Of  Frederick  William  we  have  very  striking 
portraits.  Stout  and  heavy,  the  lower  part  of 
the  face  massive,  with  round,  staring,  unquiet 
eyes,  he  looks  the  brute  that  he  was,  the  obstinate 
and  tyrannical  brute  that  well-nigh  strangled  his 
son,  Frederick  II,  with  a  curtain  cord.  His  ex- 
pression shows  him  capable  of  those  fits  of  anger 
verging  on  madness  which  could  be  heard  from 
afar,  and  caused  the  people  to  crowd  about  his 
windows.  He  always  carried  a  stick,  and  in  his 
perpetual  outbursts  of  rage,  he  struck  wildly 
right  and  left,  adding  kicks  and  cuffs  to  the  beat- 


29^  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

ing.  He  would  run  after  people,  and  drag  them 
by  the  hair,  so  as  to  flog  them  more  easily,  or 
else,  if  gout  kept  him  in  his  chair,  he  would  throw 
anything  that  he  could  reach  at  their  heads.  It 
was  necessary  to  watch  him  carefully  so  as  to 
dodge  in  time.  Jealous,  avaricious,  drunken,  full 
of  manias,  and  hating  books  and  the  arts  with  a 
sort  of  passion,  he  made  his  wife  and  children 
pitifully  unhappy.  Yet,  he  was  not  a  bad  king. 
His  manias  answered  exactly  to  the  wants  of  the 
country.  They  were  a  boon  after  the  tribula- 
tions through  which  Germany  had  passed  and 
which  had  made  it  go  backward  several  centuries. 
In  the  pictures  of  the  old  German  school,  ex- 
amine the  towns  with  their  pointed  gables,  their 
great  high  roofs  with  rows  of  small  windows  one 
above  the  other,  their  little  airy  turrets  placed 
at  the  edge  of  the  roofs  like  swallows'  nests,  their 
heavy,  well  kept  ramparts,  which  might  serve  as  a 
background  even  to  biblical  scenes.  This  is  an- 
cient Germ.any,  flourishing,  industrious,  softened 
by  long  peace,  having  borrowed  from  the  Refor- 
mation much  vivacity,  and  curiosity  of  mind,  and 
the  love  of  liberty.  Order  and  activity  reigned  in 
the  streets,  well-being  and  comfort  in  the  houses. 
German  artisans  were  celebrated  and  sent  their 
handicraft  "even  to  the  most  distant  lands,  situ- 
ated at  the  four  winds  of  the  world."  ^  The  pros- 
perous middle  class  directed  the  affairs  of  the 
towns  with  great  wisdom.     Nuremberg  had  three 

»  Sebastian  Mtmster,  Cosmographia  Universalis  (1544). 


The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth         293 

hundred  cannons  on  her  fortifications,  wheat  for 
two  years  in  her  stores,  a  treasure  of  fifteen  mil- 
lions of  florins,  a  greater  sum  than  Frederick 
William,  King  of  Prussia,  left  after  twenty-sevefi 
years  of  stringent  economy.  Augsbourg  was  still 
richer,  more  refined  as  to  manners,  with  a  more 
lively  taste  for  luxury  and  artistic  objects;  the 
gardens  of  her  bankers  could  rival  those  of  the 
King  of  France,  and  their  houses  were  full  of 
treasures.  The  country  was  well  cultivated.  The 
mines  have  perhaps  never  yielded  so  much;  ac- 
cording to  Ranke,  the  quantity  of  silver  thrown 
upon  the  market  by  Germany,  during  the  sixteenth 
century,  almost  equals  the  value  of  the  American 
gold.^  The  traffic  in  men  which  provided  foreign 
countries  with  troopers,  rid  the  land  of  adven- 
turous and  turbulent  spirits.  The  institution  of 
mercenary  armies  secured  the  quiet  of  the  country 
till  the  day  came  when  that  same  institution 
brought  ruin  with  it. 

The  Thirty  Years'  War  swept  over  this  happy 
land  and  left  it  waste,  depopulated,  crushed,  a 
terrifying  proof  of  the  ease  with  which  a  great 
civilisation,  even  in  modem  times,  can  be  anni- 
hilated. The  mercenary  troops  of  Wallenstein  and 
Tilly  left  a  desert  behind  them;  the  plague  and 
famine  completed  their  work.     There  was  a  de- 

^  Ranke,  Zur  Deutschen  Geschichte.  It  must  be  remembered 
that  Ranke  always  maintained  that  the  revenues  Spain  got  from 
America,  during  the  sixteenth  century,  were  far  less  considerable 
than  is  usually  supposed.  (See  his  Spain  Under  Charles  V, 
Philip  II,  and  Philip  III.) 


294         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

struction  of  towns,  "the  like  of  which  had  not 
been  seen  since  Jerusalem,"  in  some  five  provinces, 
four  villages  only  remained  standing.  Thirty 
thousand  people  were  killed  at  a  time,  vast  plains 
were  left  uncultivated  and  became  forests  once 
more.  When  peace  returned,  Berlin  had  only  six 
thousand  inhabitants,  huddled  in  houses  roofed 
with  wood  and  straw. 

In  Bohemia,  the  country  was  a  desert.  ' '  Armed 
men  who  ventured  to  cross  it  sometimes  met  a 
group  of  peasants  around  a  fire,  preparing  their 
supper,  human  remains  in  the  pot."  ^  Fearful 
moral  ruin  accompanied  material  ruin:  "We  had 
forgotten  how  to  laugh,"  said  a  contemporary. 
The  people  became  as  ferocious  as  the  soldiery; 
the  middle  classes  seemed  reduced  to  idiocy 
by  excess  of  misfortune ;  the  nobility,  abominably 
ignorant,  resorted  to  drunkenness.  In  all  classes, 
coarseness  and  unheard  of  harshness  reigned, 
and  when  learning  revived  it  took  on  the  char- 
acter of  prodigious  pedantry.  The  dregs  of  the 
German  nature,  stirred  during  a  whole  genera- 
tion, had  come  to  the  surface.  The  country's 
wounds  were  so  deep  that  thirty  years  ago  one 
questioned  whether  they  were  quite  healed,  and 
whether  the  Germany  of  the  nineteenth  century 
was  not,  in  some  respect,  still  inferior  to  that  of 
the  sixteenth. 

It  was  in  the  midst  of  this  barbarism  and  misery 

1  Hormayr,  Taschenbuch  fiir  die  Vaterlandische  Geschichte, 
quoted  by  Michelet. 


The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth         295 

that  Prussia  came  upon  the  world's  stage.  Fred- 
erick William  was  not  one  to  restore  it  to  politeness 
and  gentleness,  but  he  was  the  very  man  to  pre- 
pare it  for  the  great  part  it  was  to  play  under  his 
successor.  His  avarice  brought  order  in  the 
kitchen  as  well  as  in  public  affairs.  He  fashioned 
Prussian  administration  on  his  own  pattern;  hard, 
methodical,  precise.  His  journeys  through  the 
provinces,  cane  in  hand,  accustomed  public  officers 
to  a  discipline,  the  tradition  of  which  still  exists. 
It  is  true  that,  beyond  his  frontiers,  he  did  not 
know  how  to  make  himself  respected.  Diplomacy 
was  not  among  his  natural  accomplishments.  He 
was  abusive  with  ambassadors  as  with  the  rest  of 
humanity.  One  day  he  lifted  his  foot  to  kick  an 
English  envoy,  and  a  negotiation  fell  to  the  ground 
in  consequence.  Nothing  could  keep  him  from 
giving  a  piece  of  his  mind,  no  matter  to  whom,  or 
under  what  circumstances,  and  always  getting 
into  some  kind  of  petty  broil.  The  other  sover- 
eigns knew  him  well  and  in  no  way  trusted  him. 

His  great  pride  was  his  army.  He  originated 
the  idea  that  a  Prussian  must  be  bom  with  a  hel- 
met on  his  head,  and  he  made  the  nation  believe 
it.  One  of  the  Margravine  of  Bayreuth 's  first 
reminiscences  was  that  of  seeing  the  coirrt  and  the 
town  at  the  death  of  her  grandfather,  Frederick  I, 
suddenly  in  uniform.  "All  was  changed  at  Ber- 
lin," she  writes.  "Those  who  wished  to  curry 
favour  with  the  new  king  put  on  helmets  and 
breastplates,  everything    became  military."      At 


296  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  Frederick  William  was 
in  the  square  before  the  palace  commanding  the 
manoeuvres.  The  Prussian  army,  in  his  hands, 
became  the  perfect  machine  which  has  served  as 
model  up  to  our  days.  He,  himself,  for  very  love 
of  his  army,  was  a  peaceable  king.  He  would  have 
hated  to  send  his  regiments  to  the  war  for  fear  of 
spoiling  them.  There  was  one  in  particular,  com- 
posed of  men  well  above  six  feet  in  height,  the  joy 
of  his  eyes,  his  pride,  his  love,  which  he  could 
never  bear  to  have  out  of  his  sight.  For  this  great 
regiment,  Frederick  William  showed  himself  prod- 
igal and  patient.  In  order  to  secure  all  the  giants 
in  Germany,  and  to  see  them  resplendent  at  the 
parade,  he  became  extravagant  and  endured  in- 
sults. He  sent  out  of  the  country  to  enroll  giants 
at  high  prices ;  if  they  refused  he  had  them  carried 
off  by  force,  at  the  risk  of  serious  complications 
with  his  brother  sovereigns;  was  it  not  all  for  the 
great  regiment,  that  regiment  for  which  he  was 
ready  to  make  any  sacrifice,  except  that  of  giving 
up  a  fine  soldier  ?  He  made  up  for  all  this  self- 
control  in  his  treatment  of  his  family. 


II 

Little  Princess  Wilhelmina  was  bright  and  in- 
telligent. Nature  made  her  gay,  and  trouble 
never  entirely  saddened  her.  At  the  first  gleam 
of  simshine,  her  good  temper  rose  anew  and  she 


The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth         297 

was  once  more  herself,  mischievous,  fond  of  danc- 
ing, and  bold  at  playing  pranks.  When  she  was 
six  years  old  she  found  that  her  father  intended 
to  plight  her  to  a  prince  of  fifteen,  whom  she  de- 
spised. She  discovered  that  this  suitor  was  a 
coward  and  she  took  delight  in  frightening  him 
out  of  his  wits.  When  her  governess  found  her 
out  she  punished  her  severely,  and  the  governess 
had  a  heavy  hand.  In  the  old  days  princes  were 
brought  up  roughly,  and  Frederick  William  was 
not  likely  to  introduce  a  gentler  regime.  His 
principle  was  that  "the  passions  of  youth  needed 
to  be  calmed,"  ^  and  Mademoiselle  Leti,  the  gov- 
erness, "calmed"  the  little  princess  to  such  good 
purpose  that  th^  Margravine  later  wondered  that 
she  had  not  broken  her  arms  and  legs,  rolling  down 
the  staircase. 

Leti,  however,  was  dismissed  for  fear  her  pupil 
might  be  lamed  for  life.  Princess  Wilhelmina 
then  had  to  get  along  with  her  father,  who  under- 
took to  break  her  in,  as  well  as  her  brother  and 
playfellow,  Frederick.  Thanks  to  their  father, 
the  fear  of  blows  remained  one  of  their  liveliest 
impressions  of  childhood.  Frederick  especially 
often  came  out  of  the  paternal  hands  with  his  face 
covered  with  blood  and  a  handful  of  hair  missing. 
The  Margravine  relates  their  emotions  when  Fred- 
erick William  surprised  them  with  the  Queen,  in 
spite  of  the  many  stratagems  which  were  employed 
to  get  them  out  of  the  way  at  the  first  alarm. 

*  Memoirs  de  Catt. 


298         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

Once,  unexpectedly,  the  King  entered.  Prince 
Frederick  had  barely  time  to  shut  himself  up  in  a 
closet,  his  sister  to  creep  under  the  Queen's  bed- 
stead, which  was  so  low  that  she  had  the  greatest 
trouble  in  squeezing  under  it.  The  King  threw 
himself  on  the  bed  and  fell  asleep.  The  children 
could  hardly  breathe  and  did  not  dare  to  move. 
It  is  quite  the  story  of  Hop-o'-My-Thumb  and  his 
brothers  hidden  under  the  ogre's  bed.  Princess 
Wilhelmina  was  then  twenty,  her  brother  seven- 
teen. The  Prussian  ogre,  after  two  hours,  left  the 
room  without  having  smelt  fresh  meat,  but  such 
adventures  are  not  easily  forgotten.  The  Queen 
did  not  dare  to  say  a  word.  The  King  had  taught 
her  to  hold  her  peace  before  him.  "It  is  neces- 
sary," said  he,  "to  keep  a  woman  in  fear  of  the 
stick;  otherwise,  she  will  dance  on  her  husband's 
head." 

Another  lively  reminiscence  of  their  youth  to 
Princess  Wilhelmina  and  her  brother,  was  that  of 
hunger,  that  of  having  been  famished  not  once, 
nor  twice,  nor  twenty  times,  but  during  weeks  and 
months.  Frederick  William  ordered  all  household 
details,  carved  and  served  himself,  at  table.  Every 
day  he  invited  a  quantity  of  generals  to  dinner,  all 
in  uniform,  stiff  and  smart.  He  used  to  conde- 
scend to  get  tipsy  with  them,  but  outside  of  drink 
these  dinners  were  nothing  more  than  a  course  of 
lessons  in  frugality.  The  allowance  of  food  at  the 
royal  table  was  rigidly  fixed ;  six  very  small  dishes 
for  twenty-four  people,  and,  in  serving,  the  King 


The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth         299 

saw  that  enough  was  left  over  for  supper/  When 
he  came  to  his  children  .  .  .But  here  we  must 
listen  to  the  Margravine.  There  are  certain 
things  that  princesses  alone  have  the  right  to  say: 
"When,  by  chance,  anything  was  left  in  the  dish, 
he  spat  upon  it,  to  keep  us  from  eating."  The 
description  of  the  stew  made  of  old  bones,  which 
was  served  to  her  when  she  was  punished  and 
dined  in  her  room,  cannot  be  quoted  even  from  a 
princess's  diary.  During  the  long  incarcerations 
inflicted  upon  her  in  the  winter  of  1730-1731, 
while  her  brother  was  under  sentence,  she  well 
nigh  died  of  hunger.  She  had  reached  the  limit 
of  endurance,  when  the  French  colony  of  Berlin, 
moved  to  pity,  managed  to  send  her  some  food. 
The  depth  of  her  gratitude  shows  what  the  crav- 
ings of  her  appetite  must  have  been.  She  con- 
fesses ingenuously  that  she  conceived  "a  high 
esteem"  for  the  French  people  whom  she  always 
made  it  "a  rule  to  succour  and  protect"  on  every 
occasion.  Frederick  William,  without  a  pang  of 
remorse,  saw  his  children  reduced  to  skin  and 
bones.  His  one  thought  was  to  increase  his  treas- 
ury. 

What  a  poet  a  miser  is !  What  an  idealist !  He 
deprives  himself  of  everything,  he  is  cold,  he  is 
famished,  his  life  is  a  miserable  one  and  round 
him  he  spreads  sadness.  But  there,  in  his  coffers, 
he  possesses  potentially,  luxury,  power,  flattery, 

^  Another  eye-witness  affirms  that  the  six  dishes  were  well-filled. 
At  any  rate,  his  children  did  not  profit  by  the  abtindance. 


300         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

love,  friends,  all  that  wealth  can  give  to  man.  No 
dream  is  too  beautiful,  no  caprice  too  costly.  He 
buys  castles,  provinces,  the  whole  world,  accord- 
ing to  his  fancy;  in  his  hand  he  holds  all  these 
things  when  he  grasps  his  gold.  With  what  logic 
he  despises  the  so-called  wise  man  who  buys  a 
field,  or  a  house,  and  who  rejoices,  saying :  "It  is 
mine."  With  the  miser  everything  is  his,  since 
he  can  procure  all  things ;  and,  as  long  as  his  treas- 
ure is  in  the  house,  no  one  can  take  anything  from 
him,  since  his  joys  are  within  himself.  The  rough 
Frederick  William  was  a  poet  when  he  gave  his 
heir  but  a  bone  to  gnaw,  so  that,  later,  he  might 
buy  all  the  giants  on  earth  and  have  a  whole  army 
of  men  six  feet  and  a  half  high,  instead  of  a  single 
regiment.  The  old  King  would  have  risen  from 
his  grave  to  see  a  hundred  thousand  giants  on 
parade. 

It  would  scarcely  have  been  wise  to  tell  Fred- 
erick William  that,  in  his  way,  he  was  a  poet.  And 
yet  he  was,  without  knowing  it,  and  against  his 
own  will,  for  there  was  nothing  he  despised  as 
much  as  poetry  The  mere  word  "  verses  "  put  him 
in  a  rage.  One  day  he  noticed  an  inscription 
above  one  of  the  gates  of  his  palace.  "He 
asked,"  relates  Frederick  II,  "what  those  char- 
acters were:  'Latin  verses  by  Wachter.'  At  the 
word  verses  he  sent  at  once  for  poor  Wachter. 
He  appeared.  My  father  said  to  him  angrily:  'I 
order  you  to  leave,  instantly,  my  city  and  my 
states.'     He  did  not  require  a  second  command." 


</lC^  L'c/i,    /     /         ///',//,.    ^  .         ,       U     U     ,    /      .      ,  ,      ,, 


.      ,/„  f'T-a^.     CPU 


FREDERICK  WILLIAM    KING  OF  PRUSSIA 
From   an  engraving  by  G.   F.  Schmidt 


The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth         301 

The  chief  grievance  of  Frederick  Wilham  against 
his  son  Frederick,  for  which  he  really  hated  him, 
was  that  the  youth  was  fond  of  music  and  poetry ; 
he  called  him  in  public,  with  contumely,  "Fife- 
player!  Poet!"  His  great  anger  against  his 
daughter  Wilhelmina  arose  from  the  fact  that  she 
encouraged  the  ' '  effeminate ' '  tastes  of  her  brother 
and  his  love  of  literature. 

He  himself  did  not  like  prose  much  better  than 
verse.  Any  kind  of  book  was  to  him  like  a  red 
rag  to  a  bull.  It  was  the  enemy.  He  pounced 
upon  it  and  without  even  glancing  at  it  sent  it 
flying  into  the  fire.  The  education  of  his  sons 
was  conducted  according  to  these  principles.  As 
to  the  girls,  he  left  them  to  the  Queen,  their 
bringing  up  being  of  no  importance.  So  it  hap- 
pened that  Princess  Wilhelmina  became,  without 
opposition,  a  highly  educated  woman,  a  good 
linguist  and  an  excellent  musician.  Over  the 
boys,  however,  especially  the  heir  apparent,  he 
kept  good  watch;  they  were  not  to  be  poisoned 
with  literature.  Forty  years  later,  Frederick  II 
trembled  as  he  remembered  the  scene  that  took 
place  in  his  room  when  his  father  discovered  that 
a  master,  a  traitor,  was  teaching  him  Latin. 
* '  What  are  you  doing  there  ? ' '  called  out  the  King. 
"Papa,  I  am  declining  mensa,  ae."  "Ah\  You 
wretch!  Teaching  Latin  to  my  son!  Out  of  my 
sight."  The  master  rushed  away  but  not  before 
receiving  a  shower  of  blows  and  kicks.  The  pupil 
hid  himself  under  the  table,  but  he  was  dragged 


302         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

by  the  hair  out  into  the  middle  of  the  room  and 
violently  cuffed.  "Let  us  have  no  more  of  your 
mensa,''  said  the  King,  hitting  harder  still,  "  or 
that  is  the  way  I  shall  reward  you."  Frederick 
was  then  a  mere  child.  He  was  timid  and  did  not 
learn  easily.  His  father  might  have  disgusted 
him  of  books  for  ever  and  made  him  a  savage 
according  to  his  own  image,  a  savage  full  of  genius, 
yet  a  savage,  but  for  Princess  Wilhelmina. 

Of  all  the  varieties  of  affection,  the  most  per- 
fect, the  most  exquisite,  is  that  between  sister 
and  brother.  It  usually  develops  in  early  youth, 
that  age  of  chivalrous  friendships  and  disinter- 
ested devotion.  It  has  the  liberty  which  can 
never  exist  in  maternal  and  filial  affections,  and 
at  the  same  time  the  strong  bond  of  close  rela- 
tionship. The  reminiscences  and  impressions 
shared  in  infancy,  the  partaking  of  the  same  joys 
and  sorrows  at  the  same  hearth,  be  the  home  gay 
or  sombre,  sweet  or  cruel,  give  it  incomparable 
power  to  devise  and  heal  the  heart's  secret  wounds. 
It  has  all  the  delicacy  of  a  friendship  between 
man  and  woman,  without  danger  of  yielding  to 
those  feelings  which  remind,  even  the  most  vir- 
tuous, that  a  man  is  a  man  in  a  woman's  eyes, 
and  the  converse.  It  is  the  salvation  of  unhappy 
childhood;  its  sweetness  and  purity  keep  away 
despair  and  the  demoralising  effects  of  grief. 
Princess  Wilhelmina  felt  for  her  brother  Fred- 
erick an  elder  sister's  sweet  and  deep  affection. 
The  sickly  temperament  of  her  brother,  his  per- 


The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth         303 

petual  terrors,  had  made  of  him  a  poor  child,  sad 
and  taciturn.  She  knew  the  secret  of  consohng 
him  and  reconciHng  him  with  hfe.  As  he  grew 
up  she  pleaded  unceasingly  with  him  for  letters 
and  arts,  for  politeness,  for  human  and  modern 
ideas,  and  she  triumphed,  in  spite  of  her  father 
and  his  rough  soldiers.  In  her,  Frederick  II  had 
a  trustworthy  confidante,  a  heroic  ally,  a  perfect 
friend.  1 

III 

In  their  tastes  and  ideas,  both  were  in  ad- 
vance of  the  surroundings  in  which  fate  had 
placed  them,  and  they  suffered  in  consequence, 
diversely,  according  to  their  natures.  As  soon  as 
Prince  Frederick  had  conquered  his  awful  child- 
ish terrors  and  ceased  to  tremble  at  the  very 
sound  of  his  father's  name,  his  only  thought  was 
to  escape  from  him,  and  to  this  end  he  plunged 
giddily  into  intrigues  which  culminated  in  the 
Kustrin  tragedy.  His  sister,  on  the  contrary, 
became  prudent,  and  learned  diplomacy  at  an 
age  when  little  girls  usually  play  with  their  dolls. 
"I  always,"  said  she,  "had  the  misfortune  to 
meditate  over  much;  I  say  the  misfortune,  for,  in 
very  deed,  by  dint  of  going  too  deeply  into  things, 
one  discovers  how  sad  they  often  are."  She  adds 
that  too  many  reflections  at  times  "weary  her" 
but  that  she  had  found  them  "useful  for  the 
direction  of  one's  conduct."      She  was  thirteen 


304         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

when  experience  reduced  her  to  this  sorry  phil- 
osophy; she  then  resolved  to  understand  all 
things,  even  were  it  to  cost  her  nights  of  weeping, 
as  often  happened. 

Perfect  wisdom  would  have  consisted  in  not 
asking  of  the  things  and  people  meditated  upon 
more  than  they  could  give.  Unfortunately, 
Princess  Wilhelmina  harboured  many  ideas  most 
preposterous  in  a  king's  daughter.  She  believed 
that  she  had  the  right  to  despise  ambition.  She 
insisted  on  counting  her  own  happiness  as  of  some 
weight  in  the  arrangements  made  for  her  future. 
"I  have  always  been  something  of  a  philosopher," 
she  wrote  in  her  blindness,  "  ambition  is  not  one 
of  my  faults.  I  prefer  happiness  and  peace  to 
honours;  constraint  and  uneasiness  I  have  always 
hated."  Queen  Sophia  Dorothea,  in  whom  a  just 
pride  of  birth  was  the  only  sentiment  which  Fred- 
erick William's  stick  had  not  altered  or  debased, 
accused  her  daughter  of  having  a  low  nature,  and 
reproached  her  with  it  in  the  energetic  language 
the  King  had  introduced  into  the  Court.  She 
remained  speechless  with  indignation  when  Prin- 
cess Wilhelmina  dared  to  show  her  intention  of 
seeking  happiness  in  marriage,  and,  in  point  of 
fact,  it  was  the  Queen  who  was  right ;  she  felt  that 
the  monarchical  tradition  was  being  frittered  away 
by  the  middle -class  ideas  which  under  cover  of 
philosophy  found  their  way  through  the  palace 
walls. 

Princess  Wilhelmina  was  a  bit  sentimental.     She 


SOPHIA    DOROTHEA   QUEEN   OF    PRUSSIA 
From  an  old  copper  print 


The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth         305 

was  bom  so,  and,  most  incredibly,  she  had  re- 
ceived from  her  father  a  sentimental  education. 
Frederick  William  himself  did  not,  with  impunity, 
belong  to  the  eighteenth  century.  He  considered 
it  as  necessary,  now  and  again,  to  give  proofs, 
and,  as  it  were,  representations  of  sensibility. 
By  the  bedside  of  a  sick  child  he  would  shed  tor- 
rents of  tears,  but  this  would  not  keep  him  the 
next  day  from  refusing  a  cup  of  broth  to  the 
little  invalid.  He  used  to  beat  Frederick  until  he 
was  stunned,  and  yet  he  sent  him  "with  com- 
punction ' '  to  visit  the  hospitals  ' '  so  that  he  might 
have  an  idea  of  human  miseries,  and  learn  to  be 
tender-hearted."^  With  such  examples  before 
their  eyes,  given  by  so  exalted  a  person,  his 
children  studied  "to  be  tender-hearted"  since 
even  their  father  did  not  consider  that  he  could 
altogether  ignore  this  quality.  In  the  case  of 
Frederick  II  this  trait  did  not  become  very  deep- 
rooted ;  he  was  sentimental  and  shed  tears  only  at 
certain  times,  outside  of  business  hours;  but  the 
Margravine  of  Bayreuth  ended  by  indulging  in 
this  mood  in  season  and  out  of  season;  the  result 
was,  as  we  shall  see,  that  great  imaginary  sorrows 
were  added  to  the  very  real  miseries  of  her  youth. 
A  German  print  shows  her  to  us  at  about  thirty, 
in  the  languishing  and  somewhat  artificial  atti- 
tude, which,  in  painting,  is  the  distinctive  mark 
of  a  poetical  and  sensitive  soul.  She  is  seated,  a 
little  dog  on  her  lap,  her  cheek  leaning  on  one 

*  Memoirs  of  Catt. 


3o6         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

hand,  holding  an  open  book  in  the  other.  She 
cannot  be  said  to  be  pretty.  Her  face,  however, 
is  interesting.  Her  large  eyes  are  too  round,  like 
her  father's,  but  the  expression  is  sweet  and  deep. 
Her  powdered  hair,  worn  low,  gives  her  a  graceful 
little  head  after  the  Watteau  style.  Under  the 
mantle  which  envelops  her,  one  guesses  at  the 
thinness  of  her  figure.  Privations  —  however 
strange  the  word  may  seem,  it  is  here  rightly  used 
—  had  ruined  her  health.  Several  serious  ill- 
nesses in  fireless  rooms,  with  convalescence  aided 
only  by  cold  water,  had  reduced  her  to  a  shadow; 
she  never  really  recovered. 

This  frail  creature,  so  amiable  and  so  unfortu- 
nate, moves  one  to  pity;  poor  princess,  dreaming 
of  a  love  marriage  like  those  in  novels,  and  think- 
ing of  the  husband  who  would  bring  her  happiness, 
forgetful  that  she  was  born  to  be  merely  a  political 
tool.  What  has  a  king's  daughter,  the  daughter 
of  Frederick  William  I,  to  do  with  such  dreams! 
It  was  misfortune  enough  that  she  should  have  a 
delicate  mind,  eternally  wounded  and  shocked  by 
all  she  saw  and  heard.  What  business  had  she, 
besides,  to  possess  a  heart  yearning  for  tenderness! 
In  olden  times,  the  people  touched  by  sufferings 
like  hers  had  imagined,  for  princesses  pining  from 
the  need  of  love,  good  fairies  who  gave  casks  full 
of  diamonds,  and  kingdoms  to  boot,  to  the  Prince 
Charming  so  that  he  might  marry  his  lady-love. 
We  have  become  much  more  cruel  to  the  great 
ones  of  this  world.     No  longer  pitying  them,  we 


The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth         307 

even  fancy  that  they  do  not  suffer  as  we  do,  and 
that  the  heart  of  a  princess,  because  it  had  been 
taught  silence,  is  scarcely  a  woman's  heart.  It 
seems  to  me  that  the  story  of  Princess  Wilhelmina 
might  move  the  most  hardened. 

She  was  scarcely  out  of  the  cradle,  when  it  be- 
came her  fate  to  be  tossed  from  one  proposed  mar- 
riage to  another ;  these  were  made  and  unmade  by 
.her  parents,  and  everything  was  considered  except 
her  own  tastes  and  possible  happiness.  It  would 
be  unjust  to  blame  Frederick  William  and  Sophia 
Dorothea.  They  fulfilled  their  duties  as  sover- 
eigns, as  indeed  they  had  no  choice.  But  the 
accomplishment  of  these  duties  was  made  unneces- 
sarily cruel  by  the  fantastic  temper  of  the  King 
and  the  Queen's  indiscretion.  Their  daughter's 
settlement  in  life  was  for  both  of  them,  if  I  may  use 
the  expression,  the  list  in  which  they  tilted  against 
each  other.  Each  fought  for  his  or  her  candidate, 
the  Queen  by  underhand  intrigues,  the  King  by 
violent  blows,  and  there  was  no  possible  chance  of 
agreement.  They  entered  the  tournament  with 
ideas  too  completely  different.  The  Queen, 
haughty  and  ambitious,  demanded  a  great  al- 
liance. The  King,  though  he  was  not  insensible 
to  the  advantages  of  a  political  marriage,  wished 
especially  to  get  husbands  for  his  six  daughters 
as  economically  as  possible.  Princess  Wilhelmina, 
threatened  by  each  with  the  most  terrible  fate  if 
she  obeyed  the  other,  sure  of  hard  treatment 
whichever  way  she  turned,  seeing  her  hand  pro- 


3o8  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

mised  now  here,  now  there,  when  it  was  not  offered 
in  several  places  at  once,  North  or  South,  East  or 
West,  bowed  her  head  and  lamented  her  hard  fate. 
She  knew  that  it  was  inevitable,  and  yet  she  cotild 
not  resign  herself  to  it. 

IV 

She  was  first  engaged  to  her  cousin,  the  Prince 
of  Wales/  She  was  four,  and  he  six.  He  sent 
her  presents,  and  Queen  Sophia  Dorothea  beamed 
with  happiness,  for  this  English  alliance  was  her 
own  special  dream  and  work.  She  had  arranged 
it,  and  she  clung  to  it  with  all  the  strength  of  her 
pride;  during  eighteen  years  she  propped  it  up 
with  an  obstinacy  that  nothing  conquered,  each 
time  that  Frederick  William  broke  it  down.  It 
was  Penelope's  embroidery.  The  King  unravelled ; 
the  Queen  repaired. 

Frederick  William  was  not  at  all  times  averse 
to  the  alliance  with  his  nephew.  Now  and  then 
he  was  as  eager  for  it  as  his  wife,  and  then  he  him- 
self knotted  the  broken  threads,  but  again  the  fer- 
ment of  semi-madness  in  his  brain  caused  him  to 
upset  everything  and  once  more  things  had  to  be 
begun  anew.  Sometimes,  in  a  mad  rage,  he  would 
treat  the  foreign  ambassadors  like  mere  German 
generals.     The    English    diplomatist    sulked,    his 

'  Or  rather,  to  be  quite  exact,  the  Duke  of  Gloucester,  who 
became  Prince  of  Wales  in  1727,  at  the  death  of  his  grandfather, 
George  I. 


FREDERICK,    DUKE  OF   GLOUCESTER 
From  the  painting  by  I.  Simon 


The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth         309 

master  stormed,  and  there  was  no  more  talk  of 
the  Prince  of  Wales  until  the  Queen  arduously 
brought  about  a  reconciliation.  At  other  times, 
the  trouble  came  from  the  irresistible  temptation 
of  a  few  giants  discovered  in  Hanover  by  the  Prus- 
sian Pressgang.  Frederick  William  had  them 
kidnapped,  though  he  well  knew  that  George, 
Elector  of  Hanover,  was  much  more  sensitive 
about  his  prerogatives  than  was  George  I,  King 
of  Great  Britain.  The  Elector  claimed  his  sub- 
jects, the  King  refused  to  give  them  up  —  that 
would  have  been  too  much  —  the  misunderstand- 
ing grew  into  hatred,  and  the  Queen  was  reduced 
to  the  last  extremities  in  her  attempt  to  mollify 
her  husband;  finally  she  found  him  some  other 
giants,  and  the  heart  of  Frederick  William  melted 
at  the  sight.  On  one  occasion,  the  Austrian  en- 
voy, Seckendorf,  maliciously  played  upon  the 
King's  weaknesses  to  make  him  quarrel  with  Eng- 
land, and  bind  him  to  Austria.  The  audience  at 
which  he  presented  a  quantity  of  immense  Hun- 
garians, destined  to  pay  for  the  treaty  of  Wuster- 
hausen  (1727),  was  worthy  of  the  comic  stage. 
The  King's  face  beamed  with  childish  glee,  which 
became  ecstatic  when  he  heard  that  the  Emperor 
had  "given  orders  that  all  the  biggest  men  of  his 
states  should  be  hunted  out  and  presented  to  Fred- 
erick William."  That  day,  the  Prince  of  Wales 
fell  into  such  discredit  that  the  Queen  had  much 
ado  to  bring  back  her  husband  to  the  starting 
point. 


3IO  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

Princess  Wilhelmina  felt  great  indifference  to- 
wards this  intermittent  fianc^.  She  had  never 
seen  him  and  she  had  not  the  gift  of  falHng  in  love 
by  royal  decree.  The  Prince  of  Wales,  less  open 
to  modern  ideas,  pretended  that  this  precious  gift 
had  been  vouchsafed  to  him.  As  soon  as  the  wind 
blew  toward  England,  he  sent  word  to  the  princess 
that  he  was  madly  in  love  with  her.  She  only 
laughed.  Her  cousin  was  associated  in  her  mind 
with  so  many  scoldings  from  her  mother,  so  many 
blows  from  her  father,  so  many  ill  reports  spread 
by  the  Seckendorf  faction,  and  so  many  annoy- 
ances, great  and  small,  that  she  could  not  think  of 
him  without  irritation.  One  day,  the  English 
court,  having  been  secretly  informed  that  she  was 
humpbacked,  sent  women  to  examine  her.  She 
was  undressed;  "I  was  forced,"  she  said,  "to  pass 
before  them,  and  to  show  them  my  back  to  prove 
that  there  was  no  hump  on  it.  I  was  beside  my- 
self with  anger."  Another  time,  the  worry  of 
this  affair,  combined  with  too  much  hard  drinking, 
drove  the  King  into  a  fit  of  hypochondria  and  re- 
ligious mania.  "The  King  preached  us  a  sermon 
every  afternoon ;  his  valet  began  a  hymn  in  which 
we  all  joined;  we  were  forced  to  listen  to  the  ser- 
mon as  though  it  had  been  preached  by  an  Apostle. 
My  brother  and  I  were  shaken  with  laughter  which 
we  could  not  always  repress.  Then  all  the  ana- 
thema of  the  Church  were  heaped  upon  us  and  we 
were  forced  to  listen  with  a  contrite  and  penitent 
air,  which  we  had  great  difficulty  in  assuming." 


The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth         3 1 1 

The  melancholy  into  which  Frederick  William 
had  fallen  was  such  that  he  thought  of  abdicating. 
He  wanted  to  take  up  his  residence  at  the  country 
place  of  Wusterhausen,  where,  in  all  seasons, dinner 
was  served  in  the  courtyard,  one's  feet  in  the  water 
if  it  happened  to  rain,  and  where  each  royal  family 
had  but  one  room  for  all  its  members  and  its  fol- 
lowers, male  and  female;  screens  served  as  walls. 
The  King  informed  his  wife  and  daughters  that  he 
meant  to  take  them  to  this  rustic  home.  "There," 
said  he,  "I  shall  pray  God,  and  watch  over  the 
field  labours,  while  my  wife  and  daughters  attend 
to  the  household.  You  have  clever  fingers  (to 
Princess  Wilhelmina),  I  shall  therefore  give  the 
linen  into  your  charge,  you  will  sew  and  do  the 
washing.  Frederick,  who  is  avaricious,  will  be 
the  provision  manager.  Charlotte  will  go  to 
market,  and  my  wife  will  take  care  of  the  small 
children  and  do  the  cooking." 

Another  time,  still  fuiious  with  regard  to  the 
Prince  of  Wales,  the  King  vowed  he  would  shut 
up  his  eldest  daughter  in  a  convent.  He  wrote  to 
an  abbess  who,  as  one  can  easily  imagine,  made  no 
difficulty,  and  answered  with  enthusiasm.  When 
the  letter  reached  him,  Frederick  William  had 
changed  his  mind,  and  threatened  Wilhelmina 
with  a  fortress  prison  if  she  obeyed  her  mother 
and  married  her  cousin.  The  Queen,  on  the  other 
hand,  vowed  eternal  hatred  to  her  daughter  if  she 
did  not  marry  him,  adding,  by  way  of  encourage- 
ment. "He  is  a  good-hearted   prince,  but  rather 


312  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

stupid ;  he  is  ugly  rather  than  handsome  and  even 
a  Httle  deformed.  Provided  you  let  him  have  his 
debauchery  in  peace,  you  will  govern  him  com- 
pletely." The  Queen  often  repeated  this  speech, 
and  each  time  her  daughter  felt  less  inclined  to 
risk  a  dungeon  for  such  a  prize. 

Frederick  William  always  had  a  son-in-law 
ready  to  play  against  the  Prince  of  Wales.  We 
have  spoken  of  the  youth  whom  little  Wilhelmina 
frightened  to  death  so  as  to  get  rid  of  him.  His 
name  was  the  Margrave  of  Schwedt  and  he  was 
prince  of  blood  royal.  The  King  had  chosen  him 
in  a  fit  of  drunkenness,  and  had  kept  him  as  a 
scarecrow  to  frighten  the  Queen  when  he  had  no 
one  else  at  hand.  When  he  no  longer  needed  his 
scarecrow  he  forgot  all  about  him.  Princess  Wil- 
helmina paints  a  cruel  portrait  of  the  Margrave; 
of  all  her  admirers,  none  excited  in  her  a  greater 
aversion,  perhaps  because  she  knew  him  best  of  all. 

Charles  XII,  King  of  Sweden,  figured  for  a  short 
time  in  the  gallery  of  Frederick  William's  possible 
sons-in-law.  He  could  not  greatly  have  troubled 
Wilhelmina 's  imagination  as  she  was  nine  years 
of  age  when  he  died.  The  Memoirs  also  mention 
a  Russian  prince.  Then  came,  unless  I  have  for- 
gotten some  others,  Augustus,  Elector  of  Saxony 
and  King  of  Poland.  We  must  stop  and  consider 
him  because  the  affair  was  pushed  pretty  far  and 
also  because  he  was  the  most  singular  of  all  the 
suitors  to  whom  Frederick  William  was  favourably 
inclined. 


AUGUSTUS  THE  STRONG,  KING  OF  POLAND 
From  an  old  print 


The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth         313 

It  was  in  1727,  during  the  fit  of  melancholy  and 
piety,  when  the  King  was  inspired  with  the  idea  of 
utilising  his  wife  and  daughters  in  the  kitchen  and 
laundry.  His  favourites,  who  saw  their  own  ruin 
in  his  abdication,  had  tried  to  rouse  him  in  vain. 
Not  knowing  what  else  to  propose,  they  persuaded 
him  to  pay  a  visit  to  King  Augustus  at  Dresden, 
and  this  idea  brought  about  another;  they  sug- 
gested that  their  master  might  profit  by  his  visit 
to  arrange  a  marriage  between  his  host  and  Prin- 
cess Wilhelmina.  Frederick  WilHam  yielded,  and 
started  for  Dresden  in  January,  1728.  He  was 
dazzled.  The  Polish  court  was  then  the  most  bril- 
liant in  Germany.  Its  luxury  seemed  overpower- 
ing to  a  man  who  had  come  from  Wusterhausen. 
One  could  eat  one's  fill  and  more  too,  and  one 
could  drink  perpetually.  The  two  kings  got  roy- 
ally drunk  together  and,  in  a  maudlin  mood,  made 
all  the  arrangements  for  the  marriage.  It  is  true 
that  King  Augustus  was  then  fifty -eight  *  and  that 
he  was  old  for  his  age,  but  "his  presence  and  his 
countenance"  were  "majestic";  what  more  could 
a  princess  of  eighteen  desire  ?  It  is  true  that  King 
Augustus  had  three  hundred  and  fifty-four  bas- 
tards and  that  he  still  kept  a  harem  which  accorded 
with  so  considerable  a  family.  Had  he  been  sober, 
Frederick  William  would  have  been  severe  in  his 
appreciation  of  such  conduct;  drunk,  he  forgot  all 
about  it.     It  is  true  that  Augustus  had  had  "an 

1  The  Memoirs  of  the  Margravine  say  forty-nine ;  this  is  a  mis- 
take: Augustus  was  bom  in  1670. 


314         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

accident  which  kept  him  from  walking  or  standing 
for  any  length  of  time.  Gangrene  had  set  in  and 
the  foot  was  only  saved  by  cutting  off  two  toes. 
The  wound  was  still  open  and  caused  him  abomi- 
nable suffering."  But  this  rendered  him  inter- 
esting, for  he  continued  bravely  to  do  his  duty  as 
King,  and  stood,  smiling,  when  etiquette  required 
him  to  do  so. 

It  is  true  that  King  Augustus  finished  giv- 
ing the  full  measure  of  his  morality  by  offering 
Frederick  William  and  his  young  son  Frederick 
an  exhibition  of  so  peculiar  a  nature  that  the 
King  jumped  toward  his  son,  turned  him  around, 
and  pushed  him  out  of  the  room;  but  this  was 
an  error,  a  mistaken  politeness  which  was  not 
to  happen  again.  It  is  true,  also,  that  King 
Augustus  did  many  other  things  which  may  not 
be  related  here,  but  he  had  such  an  excellent 
cellar ! 

King  Augustus  was  accepted  and  authorised  to 
pay  his  court.  Four  months  later  he  reached 
Berlin  (May  29,  1728),  and  Princess  Wilhelmina 
had  to  receive  this  charming  bridegroom  whom 
decay  had  impatiently  attacked  before  his  burial. 
With  great  affability  he  showed  her  a  few  of  her 
three  hundred  and  fifty -four  future  step-children, 
and  all  went  on  right  merrily.  In  his  joy  at  having 
found  so  suitable  a  son-in-law,  Frederick  William 
gave  a  dinner  which  lasted  nine  hours ;  the  Queen 
and  her  daughters  were  not  invited;  no  useless 
mouths  were  wanted.     Two  hours  after  leaving 


The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth         315 

the  table,  still  intoxicated,  the  sovereigns  began 
to  drink  again.  There  were  grand  doings  at  the 
palace,  Berlin  was  illuminated,  and  the  betrothed 
King  returned  to  his  states  to  prepare  for  the  wed- 
ding. 

Political  dissensions  very  opportunely  threw 
down  this  card  house,  but  Princess  Wilhelmina 
had  had  a  narrow  escape.  Oddly  enough,  King 
Augustus  had  excited  no  aversion  in  her.  She 
had  felt  a  slight  flush  of  vanity  on  finding  her- 
self suddenly  of  some  importance  in  the  world, 
courted  by  a  king  and  his  followers.  For  a  poor 
Cinderella,  the  change  was  as  agreeable  as  it  was 
complete,  and  she  was  grateful  to  King  Augustus 
though,  for  a  young  girl,  she  was  singularly  well 
informed  as  to  his  debauchery  and  diseases.  He 
said  to  her  ' '  many  charming  things, ' '  and  then  he 
was  a  king  and,  in  those  days  that  meant  some- 
thing. 

Immediately  after  the  King  of  Poland,  Frederick 
William  took  a  fancy  to  a  younger  son  called  the 
Duke  of  Weissenfels,  young  and  gallant,  but  of  so 
little  importance  in  the  world  that  Queen  Sophia 
Dorothea  was  out  of  her  mind  with  anger  at  the 
mere  thought  of  such  an  alliance.  We  shall  have 
occasion  to  revert  once  more  to  this  duke.  We 
have  now  come  to  a  pass  when  the  fate  of  Princess 
Wilhelmina  was  so  involved  with  that  of  her 
brother,  that  it  is  necessary  to  recall,  as  rapidly 
as  possible,  the  prosecution  of  Katt,  in  order  to 
understand  the  part  she  played  in  the  tragedy  and 


3i6         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

the  causes  which  redoubled  the  King's  aversion 
toward  her. 

V 

The  streak  of  madness  in  Frederick  William 
increased  with  the  years.  His  anger  turned  to 
delirium;  in  1729,  he  tied  a  cord  around  his  throat 
and  would  have  strangled  to  death  had  not  the 
Queen  saved  him.  His  avarice  also  grew  on  him, 
and  little  was  served  at  his  table  except  cabbage, 
carrots,  and  turnips.  His  irritation  against  the 
fife  player ' '  who,  according  to  him,  was  destined 
"to  ruin  all  his  good  work"  had  changed  into  a 
maniac's  savage  hatred,  and  a  large  share  of  this 
hatred  fell  to  Princess  Wilhelmina.  He  was 
greatly  struck  by  the  fact  that  these  two  child- 
ren were  so  different  from  himself.  He  felt  that 
he  had  good  reasons  for  finding  fault  with  their 
looks,  and  even  with  their  silence,  for  he  believed 
them  both  to  be  quite  given  over  to  French  ideas, 
French  philosophy,  and  French  fashion,  whereas 
he  wanted  all  things  in  Germany  to  be  thoroughly 
German.  In  this  he  was  quite  right.  Each  race 
has  its  own  genius,  which  guides  it  in  its  proper 
path,  and  a  nation  rarely  achieves  success  in 
following  its  neighbour's  lead.  Nearly  always  it 
is  forced  to  retrace  its  steps ;  in  thinking  to  take  a 
short  cut,  it  has  merely  lost  its  way.  Frederick 
William's  great  fault  was  not  that  he  wished  for 
a  German  Germany,  but  that  he  insisted  on  hav- 
ing a  motionless  Germany;  that  he  tried  to  stop 


The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth         317 

the  nation  in  the  prodigious  bound  that  was  to 
carry  it  to  the  clouds;  above  all  he  had  utterly 
failed  to  perceive  the  genius  of  a  son,  who,  if  he 
did  amuse  himself  with  writing  French  verses, 
was  destined  to  inaugurate  a  government  immea- 
surably more  national  than  his  own,  a  son  who, 
on  reaching  the  throne,  finding  Germany  a  mere 
satellite  of  Austria,  would  leave  it  on  the  sure 
road  to  reverse  the  situation. 

It  would  have  been  impossible  to  have  been 
more  blind  than  was  his  father  towards  Frederick 
II,  and  his  reasons  were  most  trivial.  Other 
monarchs  and  more  illustrious,  had  foreseen  with 
bitterness  that  their  heirs  would  destroy  their 
work.  Philip  II  and  Peter  the  Great  understood 
that  fate  had  placed  them  between  two  mon- 
strous alternatives ;  to  deliver  up  millions  of  men 
into  the  hands  of  a  madman  like  Don  Carlos,  or 
an  idiot  like  Alexis,  or  to  commit  an  execrable 
crime.  Don  Carlos  and  Alexis  disappeared  from 
the  face  of  the  earth.  If  the  crimes  were  great, 
they  were  inspired  by  motives  equally  great. 
With  Frederick  William  everything  was  petty  and 
mean ;  ideas,  sentiments,  acts.  He  judged  his  son 
to  be  worthless  and  dangerous  to  the  state  be- 
cause he  was  wanting  in  the  qualities  of  a  good 
drill-sergeant.  Nothing  could  take  from  the  King 
these  low  considerations.  He  hated  Frederick,  as 
a  model  non-commissioned  officer  hates  a  soldier 
who  shames  his  company  by  not  keeping  the  line. 
He  would  have  liked  to  decapitate  him  because 


3i8         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

he  foresaw  that  Frederick  would  not,  hke  himself, 
pass  six  or  seven  hours  a  day  coramanding  ma- 
noeuvres: what  was  the  use  of  him  then?  It  did 
not  dawn  upon  him  that  Frederick  II  would  spoil 
his  beautiful  army  by  leading  it  to  battle,  and 
that  was  lucky  for  Frederick;  had  the  thought 
crossed  the  King's  mind  he  might  not  have  hesi- 
tated about  the  execution;  but  he  was  certain 
that  his  son,  by  carelessness  and  incapacity,  would 
spoil  his  beautiful  plaything,  the  regiment  of 
giants. 

The  sight  of  Frederick  was  odious  to  him,  and 
he  hated  Princess  Wilhelmina  almost  as  much, 
for  she  shared  her  brother's  shameful  taste  for 
poetry  and  music,  and  was  the  confidante  of  his 
sorrows.  Their  lives  became  a  perfect  martyr- 
dom after  1729,  when  an  attack  of  gout  in  both 
feet  reduced  the  King  to  an  invalid's  rolling  chair. 
Frederick  William  had  trained  the  servants  who 
pushed  this  chair  to  pursue  those  whom  he  wished 
to  beat.  One  can  picture  to  one's  self  these 
strange  races  through  the  royal  palace  of  Berlin, 
the  scampering  of  princes  and  princesses  running 
away  from  threatening  crutches.  Princess  Wil- 
helmina once  came  near  being  killed ;  the  servants 
saved  her  by  letting  her  gain  on  them.  The 
King  was  haunted  by  the  fear  that  his  children 
might  profit  by  his  illness  to  return  to  their  hate- 
ful books.  He  kept  them  within  sight.  "We 
were  forced,"  relates  his  daughter,  "to  be  in  his 
room  at  nine  o'clock,  we  dined  there  and  did  not 


The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth         319 

dare  to  leave  it  on  any  pretext  whatever.  The 
whole  time  was  spent  by  the  King  in  heaping 
curses  on  my  brother  and  on  me. ' '  What  follows 
is  of  such  a  nature  that  it  is  scarcely  possible  even 
to  allude  to  it.  The  King  forced  them  to  eat 
what  disagreed  with  them,  and  never  allowed 
them  to  move  from  the  room;  when  he  was 
wheeled  about  the  castle,  they  followed  behind 
his  chair.  "The  torments  of  purgatory,"  writes 
the  Margravine,  "could  not  equal  ours."  At  the 
beginning  of  1730,  Frederick  crept  one  evening 
into  his  sister's  room  and  vowed  that  he  could 
stand  it  no  longer  and  that  he  meant  to  leave 
the  country. 

The  Princess  was  terror-stricken.  Her  common 
sense  showed  her  the  dreadful  consequences  of  so 
rash  an  act.  She  reasoned,  implored,  wept,  and 
at  last  obtained  her  brother's  promise  to  give  up 
this  plan.  The  King's  persecution  quickly  brought 
him  back  to  it,  and  several  months  were  spent  in 
this  struggle,  during  which  the  Princess  felt  that 
she  must  inevitably  be  vanquished.  "His  mind 
was  so  soured,"  says  she,  "that  he  no  longer  listened 
to  my  exhortations  and  his  anger  even  turned 
against  me."  Frederick  was  in  that  state  of  ex- 
asperation when  prudence  is  forgotten  and  even 
despised.  He  had  divulged  his  project  to  his 
friend,  young  Katt,  whose  name,  thanks  to  this 
dangerous  honour,  has  been  recorded  in  history ;  he 
was  a  giddy  and  garrulous  youth,  who  confided  his 
secret  to  every  one.     One  evening  he  was  speak- 


320         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

ing  of  it  to  Princess  Wilhelmina,  in  the  Queen's 
apartments,  in  the  midst  of  many  curious 
lookers-on.  The  Princess  said  to  him,  "I  already 
see  your  head  unsteady  on  your  shoulders,  and 
if  you  do  not  soon  change  your  conduct,  I  may 
one  day  see  it  at  your  feet."  "I  could  not  lose 
it,"  answered  he,  "in  a  better  cause."  ''I  did  not 
give  him  time  to  say  more,"  continues  the  Margra- 
vine, "  and  I  left  him.  ...  I  did  not  think  that 
my  sad  predictions  would,  so  soon,  be  realised." 

A  few  days  later,  the  Queen  took  advantage  of 
the  King's  absence,  to  amuse  her  daughter.  She 
gave  a  ball  (August  i6th,  1730).  "I  had  not 
danced  for  six  years,"  say  the  Memoirs,  "it  was 
a  new  pleasure  for  me  and  I  gave  myself  up  to  it 
joyfully."  In  the  midst  of  the  merry  doings,  it 
was  noticed  that  the  Queen  had  grown  suddenly 
very  pale,  and  conversed  apart  with  her  ladies. 
Frederick,  who  had  accompanied  his  father,  had 
been  arrested  just  as  he  was  on  the  point  of  run- 
ning away.  The  King  would  have  killed  him 
then  and  there  if  his  generals  had  not  snatched 
him  away;  but  no  one  knew  what  might  follow. 
In  spite  of  her  anguish,  the  Queen  controlled  her- 
self. She  did  not  weep,  did  not  interrupt  the 
dances,  and  waited  a  certain  time  before  taking 
leave  and  retiring  with  her  daughter.  When  they 
were  alone  in  their  apartments,  both  shed  many 
tears  and  both  fainted;  after  which  they  agreed 
on  what  had  better  be  done. 

The  only  service  they  could  render  the  prisoner 


FREDERICK   THE   GREAT 
From  an  old  copper  print 


The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth         3^1 

was  to  destroy  his  papers.  It  is  true  that  this 
service  was  a  most  important  one.  One  is  aston- 
ished that  the  members  of  the  royal  family  were 
able  to  indulge  their  passion  for  scribbling  to  such 
an  extent,  for  the  King  was  most  suspicious  and 
never  scrupled  to  open  letters.  They  continually 
wrote  to  each  other,  criticising  the  King  and  his 
advisers,  so  that  their  correspondence  might  have 
sent  them  all  before  the  judgment  seat,  had  it 
been  discovered.  Frederick  kept  all  his  letters. 
The  box  containing  this  correspondence,  hidden 
outside  of  the  palace,  had  to  be  discovered,  the 
seals  broken,  the  lock  forced,  the  compromising 
epistles,  among  them  about  fifteen  hundred  from 
the  Queen  and  her  eldest  daughter,  burnt,  other 
letters  written  to  fill  up  the  gaps,  and  a  new  seal 
procured  so  as  to  replace  everything  as  it  had 
been.  Princess  Wilhelmina  showed  wonderful 
presence  of  mind  and  activity.  Her  mother  im- 
peded the  work  with  her  agitation,  her  terror, 
her  absurd  chattering.  She  however  completed 
her  task,  except  that  the  Queen  insisted  on  closing 
the  casket  before  enough  false  letters  had  been 
written  to  fill  it.  The  fear  of  being  surprised  by 
the  King  was  too  strong.  The  Queen  thought 
herself  very  clever  because  she  filled  up  the  empty 
spaces  with  rags,  and  when  the  seals  were  put  on 
again  she  breathed  more  easily.  According  to  the 
Memoirs,  this  must  have  been  on  the  2  2d  or  23d 
of  August,  and  no  news  had  come  from  Frederick 
since  his  arrest. 


322         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

On  the  27th  at  five  o'clock  in  the  evening,  the 
King  returned.  As  soon  as  he  caught  a  ghmpse 
of  the  Queen,  he  called  out  to  her:  "Your  un- 
worthy son  is  no  more;  he  is  dead."  "What, 
you  were  barbarous  enough  to  kill  him?"  "Yes, 
I  tell  you;  but  now  I  must  have  his  strong  box." 
The  Queen,  beside  herself,  only  called  out  without 
stopping,  "My  God!  my  son  —  O  my  son!"  Her 
children  rushed  about  terrified.  Frederick  Wil- 
liam catching  a  glimpse  of  his  eldest  daughter 
seemed  to  go  raving  mad.  "He  became  quite 
black,  his  eyes  blazed,  he  frothed  at  the  mouth. 
'You  abominable  wretch,'  he  said,  'How  dare 
you  to  show  yourself  to  me?  Go  and  keep  your 
detestable  brother  company!'  As  he  uttered 
those  words,  he  seized  me  with  one  hand,  hitting 
me  on  the  face  with  his  fist,  one  blow  struck  me 
so  heavily  on  the  temple  that  I  fell  back,  and  I 
should  certainly  have  broken  my  head  against  a 
sharp  corner  of  the  wainscotting  had  not  Madame 
de  Sonnsfeld  caught  hold  of  me  by  the  hair. 
While  I  was  still  unconscious,  the  King,  quite 
out  of  his  mind,  wanted  to  finish  me  with  more 
blows  and  kicks." 

The  young  princes,  princesses,  and  court  ladies 
all  threw  themselves  before  Princess  Wilhelmina. 
The  young  children  cried,  the  Queen  uttered  pierc- 
ing cries,  running  hither  and  thither,  wringing  her 
hands,  a  crowd  gathered,  for  the  windows  were 
open  and  the  room,  on  the  ground  floor,  was  on  a 
level  with  the  public  square.     In  the  midst  of  this 


The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth         323 

scene,  worthy  of  Bedlam,  a  procession  passed  be- 
fore the  windows.  Guards  were  leading  Katt, 
Frederick's  confidant;  others  carried  his  coffers 
and  those  of  the  prince  which  had  been  seized  and 
sealed.  Katt  saw  Princess  Wilhelmina  and  no- 
ticed that  her  face  was  swollen  and  bleeding. 
"Pale  and  overwhelmed  as  he  was,"  said  she,  "he 
still  lifted  his  hat  and  saluted  me."  On  his  side, 
Frederick  William  also  saw  Katt.  He  ran  out, 
wanted  to  fall  upon  him,  calling  out,  "Now  I 
shall  have  proofs  enough  against  that  abominable 
Fritz  and  that  hussy  of  a  Wilhelmina.  I  shall 
have  law  on  my  side  and  their  heads  shall  fall!" 
A  court  lady  was  brave  enough  to  stop  the  madman 
and  to  speak  firmly  to  him.  He  looked  at  her  and 
was  silenced.  She  threatened  him  with  divine 
vengeance;  he  listened  and  remained  dumb,  awed 
by  the  calmness  and  firmness  of  a  woman.  When 
she  had  finished,  he  thanked  her  and  turned  away, 
almost  quieted.  It  is  true  that  his  fit  of  madness 
came  upon  him  five  minutes  later  when  he  again 
saw  Katt  and  he  beat  him  till  the  blood  came. 
Princess  Wilhelmina,  that  very  evening,  was 
double-locked  in  her  room  and  a  sentinel  placed 
at  her  door.  She  was  carried  to  her  apartment 
in  a  sedan  chair  in  the  midst  of  a  great  crowd  of 
peasants  and  common  folk,  who  had  rushed  to  the 
palace  on  the  rumour  that  the  King  had  killed  two 
of  his  children. 

It  is  well  known  that  Frederick  was  taken  to 
the    citadel    of    Kustrin.     Beforehand,  Frederick 


3^4         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

William  had  made  him  undergo  a  cross-examina- 
tion which  gives  the  key  to  the  trial  which  followed. 
His  first  question,  uttered  in  a  furious  tone,  was: 
"Why  did  you  wish  to  be  a  deserter?"  This  is 
characteristic  of  the  man  and  of  the  situation ;  the 
outraged  person  was  neither  the  sovereign  nor  the 
father ;  it  was  a  recruiting  officer.  ' '  Are  you  no- 
thing but  a  cowardly  deserter?"  he  repeated, 
threatening  him  with  his  sword.  The  prince  was 
saved  once  more,  and  that  by  one  of  the  generals, 
but  the  King  was  not  to  be  gainsaid,  and  Frederick 
was  treated  as  a  soldier  who  had  deserted  his  col- 
ours. He  was  kept  in  prison,  without  linen,  and 
at  first  without  any  furniture.  He  was  fed  on 
six  pence  and  a  half  a  day,  menaced  with  torture, 
and  held  for  court-martial.  Meanwhile,  he  was 
pressed  to  confess  his  crime,  and  the  Queen's  trick 
turned  against  him.  He  let  it  be  seen  that  he  did 
not  recognise  the  rags  stuffed  into  his  casket.  The 
King  guessed  the  real  culprits  and  his  fury  re- 
doubled against  both  sister  and  brother. 

The  story  of  Princess  Wilhelmina's  marriage 
came  once  more  to  the  front  and  mingled,  after 
an  almost  ludicrous  fashion,  with  this  family  trag- 
edy. The  King  was  determined  to  rid  himself  of 
his  odious  daughter.  He  only  hesitated  as  to  the 
means  of  doing  so.  He  often  spoke  of  cutting  off 
her  head  and  took  care  that  she  should  hear  of  it, 
but  he  knew  that  it  was  not  so  easily  done  as  said ; 
and,  after  all,  he  had  a  sense  of  justice ;  if  his  daugh- 
ter was  hateful,  she  was  not  a  deserter.     He  once 


The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth         3^S 

more  thought  of  a  convent.  But  at  last  he  de- 
cided to  marry  her  off,  with  or  without  her  consent, 
to  one  of  the  suitors  set  aside  by  the  Queen.  He 
suspected  his  wife  of  being  mixed  up  with  the 
affair  of  the  casket  and  wished,  more  than  ever,  to 
be  disagreeable  to  her.  He,  therefore,  ordered 
his  creatures  to  persecute  Wilhelmina,  in  her  pri- 
son, with  perpetual  allusions  to  her  future  mar- 
riage. Messengers  from  the  King  appeared  at 
every  hour  of  the  day,  sometimes  so  early  in  the 
morning  that,  on  awakening,  Wilhelmina  could  see 
at  the  foot  of  her  bed  a  minister  or  an  officer, 
whose  mission  was  to  order  her  to  choose  between 
the  Margrave  of  Schwedt  and  death,  or  else,  in  the 
balance  there  was  a  horrible  convent,  or  a  cell  in  a 
fortress,  or  a  life  like  her  brother's ;  the  King  would 
pardon  Frederick  if  she  was  submissive  and 
obedient,  otherwise  his  execution  would  be  the  in- 
evitable result  of  her  obstinacy.  If  her  repugnance 
toward  the  Margrave  of  Schwedt  was  too  great,  she 
might  accept  the  Duke  of  Weissenfels,  or  she  might 
even  take  the  affianced  husband  of  one  of  her 
younger  sisters,  the  Margrave  of  Bayreuth;  this 
the  King  would  permit  and  the  young  couple 
would  surely  not  be  so  low-minded  as  to  repine  at 
what  would  ensure  the  peace  of  the  royal  family. 
Probably  the  young  people  could  have  but  few 
regrets  one  way  or  the  other,  as  they  had  never 
met. 

The  prisoner  did  not  yield.     She  no  longer  enter- 
tained happy  dreams  of  a  loved  and  loving  hus- 


326  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

band ;  experience  had  opened  her  eyes  with  regard 
to  royal  marriages.  She  resisted  because  her 
mother  implored  and  ordered  her  to  do  so,  and 
she  saw  that  the  poor  woman's  hope  of  the  English 
marriage  alone  gave  her  strength  to  endure  her 
cruel  tribulations;  this  union  was  to  be  the  Queen's 
one  triumph,  hoped  for  during  twenty  years,  and 
which  would  vanish  into  thin  air  did  her  daughter 
yield.  Had  it  not  been  for  her  brother,  the  Prin- 
cess would  have  resisted  to  the  end.  Death  had 
but  few  terrors  for  her;  the  King  had  taken  good 
care  that  she  should  be  indifferent  to  life,  she  clung 
to  it  only  with  the  heroic,  instinctive  hope  of  youth 
which  cannot  altogether  despair  at  twenty.  The 
cloister  was  not  a  serious  threat  and  the  thought 
of  a  prison  attracted,  rather  than  frightened,  her. 
That  which  she  was  then  enduring  was  a  shelter, 
in  spite  of  the  tormentors  sent  by  her  father,  in 
spite  also  of  the  hunger  from  which  she  suffered 
cruelly.  She  had  some  books,  her  music,  her 
needle,  and,  now  and  then,  some  quiet  hours  of 
solitude  and  rest.  Later,  she  counted  these  days 
of  bondage  with  sentinels  at  her  door  and  messen- 
gers of  the  King's  wrath  perpetually  harassing  her, 
as  among  the  best  of  her  youth.  She  only  weak- 
ened when  her  brother's  fate  was  invoked  against 
her.  The  wonder  is  that,  considering  her  great 
love  for  him,  she  should  so  long  have  held  out, 
simply  to  please  a  mother  who,  it  would  seem, 
scarcely  deserved  so  great  a  sacrifice. 

Meanwhile  the  prosecution  against  Prince  Fred- 


The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth         3^7 

erick  and  Katt  was  going  on.  The  council  of  war 
was  assembled  at  Potsdam.  The  deliberations  of 
these  soldiers  took  rather  a  singular  form.  Each 
quoted  a  paragraph  of  the  Bible  which  expressed 
his  thought,  that  is,  ten  claiming  blood  and  two 
speaking  of  clemency;  according  to  the  Memoirs 
of  the  Margravine  of  Bayreuth  such  was  the  pro- 
portion of  the  votes.  Others  have  given  a  differ- 
ent account  of  the  affair.^  However  that  may  be 
Frederick  himself  has  told  us  the  end  of  the  trag- 
edy. His  captivity  was  beginning  to  be  less  rig- 
orous. "I  thought  that  all  would  soon  be  over, 
when,  one  morning,  an  old  officer  entered  my  room 
with  several  grenadiers,  all  of  them  in  tears.  'Ah! 
Prince,  my  dear,  my  poor  Prince ! '  exclaimed  the 
officer,  between  his  sobs.  I  certainly  thought  my 
head  was  coming  off.  'Well,  speak!  Am  I  to 
die?  I  am  ready;  let  the  barbarous  judges  do 
their  work  quickly.'  'No,  dear  Prince,  you  are  not 
to  die,  but  you  must  allow  these  grenadiers  to  take 
you  to  the  window  and  keep  you  there.'  And 
they  did,  in  very  deed,  hold  my  head  so  that  I 
should  see  all  that  happened.  Great  God !  What 
a  terrible  scene!  My  dear,  my  faithful  Katt,  who 
was  to  be  executed  just  below  my  window.     I  tried 

1  David  Miiller's  History  of  Germany  used  in  the  schools,  says 
that  "the  council  of  war  energetically  refused  to  condemn  the 
prince  to  death."  Other  German  works  follow  the  version  here 
given.  The  Memoirs  of  Katt  leave  the  question  of  the  majority  of 
votes  undecided.  As  Frederick  II,  on  coming  to  the  throne,  des- 
troyed the  pages  which  might  have  compromised  the  members  of 
the  council,  it  is  impossible  to  get  at  the  truth  of  the  matter. 


3^8         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

to  give  him  my  hand,  but  it  was  pulled  back.  'Ah ! 
Katt!'  I  exclaimed,  and  then  I  fainted."  When 
he  came  to  himself,  the  bloody  body  of  his  friend 
was  placed  so  that  he  could  not  help  seeing  it. 

Princess  Wilhelmina  had  been  a  prisoner  for 
eight  months  and  a  half  when  the  minister  Grum- 
kow,  followed  by  three  other  exalted  personages, 
entered  her  room.  They  gave  her  to  understand 
that  her  resistance  entailed  great  misery  on  her 
family  and  on  her  country ;  that  the  King  and  the 
Queen  were  on  the  eve  of  a  complete  break;  that 
Prince  Frederick  was  still  in  prison,  under  threat 
of  a  second  trial ;  that  his  friends,  his  servants,  were 
exiled,  beaten,  thrown  into  prison,  that  discord 
reigned  in  the  King's  family.  She  alone  could 
put  an  end  to  this  deplorable  situation;  the  King 
promised  that,  on  her  wedding  day,  her  brother 
should  be  set  at  liberty,  that  her  mother  should 
be  restored  to  his  good  grace  and  the  past  be  for- 
gotten. ' '  Great  princesses, ' '  added  Grumkow, '  'are 
bom  to  be  sacrificed  to  the  weal  of  the  state. 
Therefore,  Madam,  submit  to  the  decrees  of  Provi- 
dence and  give  us  that  answer  which  alone  can 
bring  peace  to  your  family." 

Reason,  weariness,  great  tenderness  toward  her 
brother,  indifference  as  to  her  own  fate,  all  pleaded 
in  favour  of  her  father's  wishes.  She  succumbed. 
The  Margrave  of  Bayreuth  was  offered  to  her  and 
she  accepted  him.  On  hearing  of  her  submission, 
Frederick  William  wrote:  "The  good  God  will 
bless  you,  and  I  will  never  abandon  you.     I  will 


The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth         329 

care  for  you  all  my  life,  and,  on  every  occasion, 
prove  to  you  that  I  am 

Your  faithful   father." 

On  her  side,  the  Queen  wrote:  "I  no  longer 
acknowledge  you  for  my  daughter  and  henceforth 
I  shall  look  upon  you  as  my  most  cruel  enemy,  for 
it  is  you  who  give  me  up  to  my  persecutors,  who 
triumph  over  me.  Count  no  longer  upon  me;  I 
swear  to  hate  you  always  and  never  to  forgive 
you." 

The  Queen  alone  kept  her  promise. 

Thus,  at  last.  Princess  Wilhelmina  was  mar- 
ried, November  20,  1731,  to  a  prince  whom  his 
father-in-law  greatly  despised  and  whom  he  had 
chosen  merely  to  punish  his  wife  and  his  daugh- 
ter, whom  his  mother-in-law  hated  because  he 
represented  the  ruin  of  all  her  dreams,  whom  his 
wife  had  long  hesitated  to  accept  instead  of  a 
prison,  and  whom  no  one,  in  fact,  had  ever  con- 
sulted in  the  matter.  The  newly  married  pair 
must  have  looked  one  at  the  other  with  consid- 
erable curiosity;  they  had  to  become  acquainted, 
as  they  were  absolute  strangers. 

During  the  ceremony,  the  King  wept  and  was 
liberal  in  promises  which  he  had  no  intention  of 
keeping;  he  put  off  the  settlements  until  after  the 
marriage.  The  Queen  was  in  the  worst  of  tem- 
pers. She  had  been  informed,  rightly  or  not,  that 
the  English  would  decide  upon  the  marriage  that 
day,  and  while  Wilhelmina 's  hair  was  being  put 
up  on  one  side  she  pulled  it  down  on  the  other,  so 


33^         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

as  to  gain  time  for  the  English  messenger  to 
arrive.  The  bridegroom  was  tipsy.  His  father- 
in-law,  ashamed  of  a  prince  who  was  not  given  to 
wine,  had  forced  him  at  dinner  to  drink  so  much 
that  he  was  no  longer  quite  himself.  At  night 
the  King  forced  the  bride  to  kneel  down  in  her 
nightdress  and  say  her  prayers  aloud.  The  Queen 
took  that  opportunity  for  abusing  her  still  more, 
and  thus  ended  this  lovely  wedding  day. 


VI 

For  the  first  time  since  she  had  come  into  the 
world,  Princess  Wilhelmina  had  been  lucky.  The 
husband  she  had  drawn  at  the  lottery,  without 
being  a  great  prize,  was  yet  such  as  exactly  suited 
a  romantic  princess.  His  purse  was  very  flat  and 
Bayreuth  was  but  an  insignificant  principality. 
But  he  was  young,  good  looking,  always  cheerful, 
wonderfully  courteous  and  polite,  as  compared 
with  Frederick  William's  generals,  and  last  but 
not  least,  very  much  in  love  with  his  wife.  And 
how  she  gave  back  love  for  love !  What  a  change 
in  her  sad,  desolate  life!  Since  she  had  been  sep- 
arated from  her  brother  no  one  had  spoken  kindly 
to  her,  no  one  had  pitied  her,  and  suddenly  she 
found  herself  tenderly  cared  for  by  this  generous 
stranger  who  had  been  imposed  upon  her,  and 
who,  seeing  her  so  forlorn,  had  been  moved  to 
compassion.     It  was  incredible.     The  contrast  was 


The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth         33^ 

rendered  all  the  greater  by  the  harshness  of  the 
Queen,  who  kept  her  promise  of  never  forgiving; 
by  the  insolence  of  the  courtiers,  who  followed 
suit  by  turning  their  backs  on  the  Princess  in  dis- 
grace; by  the  apparent  coldness  of  Frederick,  set 
at  liberty  according  to  his  father's  promise,  but 
to  whom  misfortune  had  taught  prudence;  and 
by  the  new  eccentricity  of  the  King,  who  ignored 
his  daughter  since  she  had  become  a  poor  little 
future  Margravine.  On  the  other  hand,  Frederick 
William  had  undertaken  to  make  his  son-in-law 
less  ridiculous  by  teaching  him  what  he  con- 
sidered the  four  cardinal  virtues:  wine,  economy, 
love  of  military  matters,  and  German  manners. 
With  this  in  view  he  tried  to  intoxicate  him  on 
every  occasion,  and  gave  him  a  regiment,  "insinu- 
ating that  it  would  be  a  pleasing  thing  were  he  to 
go  and  take  possession  of  it."  As  to  economy, 
that  was  forced  upon  him ;  the  King  did  not  give 
the  newly  married  pair  a  farthing  and  seemed 
quite  to  have  forgotten  all  about  the  dowry  and 
the  settlements. 

The  young  people  were  wild  to  run  off  to  Bay- 
reuth. They  consulted  as  to  the  means  of  per- 
suading the  King  to  settle  their  money  matters. 
"To  accomplish  this,"  writes  the  Margravine  in- 
genuously, "there  were  but  two  means:  one  was 
to  obtain  giants  for  him;  the  other  was  to  offer 
him  and  his  boon  companions  a  banquet  in  order 
to  make  him  drink.  The  first  expedient  was  not 
in  my  power,  for  tall  men  do  not  grow  like  mush- 


33^         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

rooms;  they  were  so  rare  that  scarcely  could  one 
find  three  that  could  suit  him  in  a  whole  country. 
The  second  course  had  to  be  followed.  I  invited 
the  sovereign  to  dine  with  us.  .  .  .  There  were 
forty  guests  and  the  banquet  was  excellent."  In 
one  way  the  success  was  complete.  The  King 
and  his  friends  left  the  table  completely  tipsy; 
the  Margrave  alone  had  kept  his  head.  Frederick 
William  embraced  his  daughter,  embraced  his  son- 
in-law.  He  sent  for  ladies  from  the  town  and 
began  dancing.  At  three  o'clock  in  the  morning 
he  was  still  dancing,  he,  Frederick  William! 

They  thought  the  victory  certain.  In  truth, 
the  King  declared  his  intentions.  He  consented 
to  lend  his  son-in-law  two  hundred  and  sixty 
thousand  crowns,  to  be  returned  at  stated  times. 
He  gave  as  dowry  to  his  dear  Wilhelmina,  sixty 
thousand  crowns,  with  a  service  of  plate  which 
already  belonged  to  her  (let  us  be  fair:  the 
plate  had  been  given  by  him),  and,  inestimable 
privilege!  a  regiment  for  her  husband,  which  he 
was  to  command  every  time  that  he  came  to 
Berlin.  The  husband  and  wife  were  dum- 
founded.  The  young  Margravine's  revenues  were 
already  eaten  up  by  necessary  expenses,  and  she 
calculated  that  out  of  what  her  husband  possessed 
she  could  count  on  only  eight  hundred  crowns  a  year 
for  her  personal  wants.  In  spite  of  the  severe  econ- 
omy to  which  both  had  been  accustomed,  with 
such  a  sum  it  was  impossible  to  hold  court,  even 
djt  the  price  of  small  courts  during  the  eighteenth 


The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth         333 

century.  The  Margravine  ventured  to  make  a 
few  respectful  observations.  Frederick  WilHam, 
seemingly  moved,  caused  the  contract  to  be 
handed  to  him  and  cut  off  four  thousand  crowns 
from  the  dowry.  There  was  nothing  for  it  but 
to  hold  one's  peace.  They  put  off  a  last  effort  to 
mollify  him  to  the  day  of  their  departure,  January 
II,  1732. 

The  opportunity  seemed  an  excellent  one.  The 
Margravine  showed  signs  of  approaching  mother- 
hood, and  this  was  the  very  moment  for  Frederick 
William  to  express  his  overflowing  sentimentality; 
he  was  so  happy  at  the  thought  of  being  a  grand- 
father. His  daughter's  discourse  on  her  great 
poverty  was  apparently  too  much  for  his  tender 
heart:  "He  burst  into  tears,  and  could  not  an- 
swer me  for  sobbing,  he  expressed  his  feelings  by 
his  kisses."  Making  a  great  effort  to  control  him- 
self, the  King  assured  his  daughter  that  she  could 
trust  him,  that  he  would  help  her,  and  then  he 
added:  "I  am  too  much  moved  to  take  leave  of 
you;  embrace  your  husband  for  me;  my  feelings 
are  such  that  I  cannot  even  see  him."  Where- 
upon he  turned  heel  and  went  off,  still  weeping. 
Tears  were  all  they  obtained.  Frederick  William 
in  all  this  was  by  no  means  a  hypocrite.  He  was 
sincerely  touched  by  his  daughter's  penury,  for 
the  misfortune  of  having  no  money  seemed  to 
this  miser  the  greatest  of  all,  and  he  ran  away  so 
as  not  to  be  forced  to  diminish  his  own  treasure. 
This  old  non-commissioned  officer,  known  as  King 


334  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

Frederick  William,  was  neither  amicable  nor  easy 
to  deal  with;  but  he  was  certainly  original  and 
his  manias  interest  one,  after  all. 

The  young  people  went  off,  as  poor,  as  Job,  but 
with  a  light  heart.  They  were  overwhelmed 
with  joy  at  leaving  the  paternal  barracks,  at  not 
being  awakened  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning 
by  the  artillery  exercise,  at  not  having  to  dine 
with  a  dozen  generals  in  uniform,  at  being  free 
from  scoldings  and  wranglings,  at  having  the 
right  to  laugh  and  to  love  each  other,  to  blossom 
into  life  and  joy.  Later,  they  would  have  to 
think  of  some  means  of  buying  shirts  and  other 
necessary  articles ;  for  the  time  being  they  enjoyed 
their  liberty,  and  that  was  enough.  This  pleas- 
ure had  no  drawback,  with  the  exception  of 
official  harangues,  until  they  reached  the  frontier 
of  the  Bayreuth  states.  The  Princess  describes 
their  arrival  with  her  usual  frankness.  She  had 
known  avarice;  she  had  not  known  sordid  pov- 
erty, and  it  must  be  confessed  that  her  future 
subjects,  even  those  who  were  supposed  to  be 
well  off,  were  a  beggarly  set.  Their  fathers, 
during  the  ruin  of  Germany,  had  become  mangy, 
lousy,  and  ragged ;  they  themselves  had  remained 
ragged,  lousy,  and  mangy.  With  the  exception  of 
their  filth  they  were  not  responsible.  There  is 
an  obscure  instinct  which  urges  nations  to  do 
what  they  are  meant  to  do.  The  ragged  nobles 
who  on  her  arrival  so  disgusted  the  Margravine 
were,    quite    unconsciously,    Frederick    William's 


The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth         335 

fellow-workers,  ignorant  as  he  himself  of  their 
great  task:  all  together  they  laboured  at  the  re- 
construction of  Germany,  and  they  left  to  the  fol- 
lowing generations  solid  private  and  public  fortunes. 
The  princess  only  saw  their  rags  and  their  ver- 
min, of  which  she  made  great  fun  in  her  Memoirs. 
At  the  first  town  she  entered,  thirty -four  nobles, 
gloriously  dirty,  offered  her  a  bouquet  and  drank 
to  her  health  until  ''they  could  no  longer  speak." 
Three  days  later,  she  solemnly  entered  Bayreuth 
in  a  coach  worthy  of  a  comic  opera,  and  discov- 
ered that  her  capital  was  nothing  but  a  big  village 
''peopled  with  peasants,"  and  that  her  father-in- 
law,  a  ridiculous  sort  of  Geronte,  "had  the  manners 
and  habits  of  a  parsimonious  rustic  proprietor. 
His  palace  was  hung  with  cobwebs;  the  draperies 
were  in  shreds  and  the  windows  broken;  nothing 
had  been  mended  since  the  Thirty  Years'  War, 
and  that  had  been  over  nearly  a  century.  There 
were  no  fires,  the  food  was  coarse,  and  the  old 
Margrave  scolded  when  the  horses  were  driven  too 
hard  or  too  much  game  was  killed.  The  shirt 
problem  proved  to  be  even  more  serious  than  the 
young  people  had  foreseen.  When  the  clothes 
brought  from  Berlin  were  worn  out,  their  poverty 
became  very  evident ;  the  Margravine  of  Bayreuth 
could  not  replace  them.  She  tried  to  borrow  and 
met  with  a  refusal;  peasants  do  not  easily  lend 
money.  She  went  without  new  dresses  and  soon 
resembled  the  Bayreuth  ladies  who  had  so  excited 
her  mirth. 


33^         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

The  minds  of  the  courtiers  were  as  rustic  as 
their  appearances.  Nothing  was  discussed  but 
household  affairs  and  agriculture.  Still,  the  old 
Margrave  had  some  literary  pretensions,  and  when- 
ever he  thought  it  necessary  to  exhibit  them, 
he  talked  of  T^lemaque,  which  he  had  read,  and 
talked  of  it  at  great  length.  His  daughter-in-law 
feared  nothing  so  much  as  these  literary  conversa- 
tions. Certainly  the  sojourn  in  the  half-ruined 
Bayreuth  palace  was  not  gay.  The  Margravine 
suffered  from  the  gossip  and  prejudices  of  the 
small  town,  from  the  political  wranglings,  from 
the  jealousy  of  her  sisters-in-law,  and  most  of  all 
from  the  distrust  of  her  father-in-law,  who  looked 
askance  at  the  fine  lady  from  Berlin  and  was  always 
on  the  watch  for  eccentricities ;  any  sign  of  civilisa- 
tion was  looked  upon  as  eccentric  at  Bayreuth. 
The  old  man  reduced  his  daughter-in-law  to  posi- 
tive slavery  so  as  to  keep  her  from  scandalising 
his  subjects ;  she  did  not  dare  go  out  for  an  airing 
without  first  asking  his  permission. 

The  old  Margrave's  ideal  of  life  was  to  drink 
with  his  jolly  boon  companions.  When  he  trav- 
elled, he  stopped  at  every  inn  on  the  road.  Once, 
having  to  cover  thirty  leagues,  these  were  so  nume- 
rous that  the  journey  took  up  four  days.  His 
people  adored  him  because  he  was  not  proud.  He 
had  the  wiry  figure  of  an  old  cacochymic  peasant ; 
his  face  was  crafty  and  sly;  his  mind  practical. 
To  the  Princess's  great  surprise,  the  fact  of  having 
a  child  of  the  King  of  Prussia  as  his  daughter-in- 


The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth         337 

law  had  by  no  means  dazzled  him.  He  judged 
her  more  according  to  her  dowry  rather  than  her 
birth,  and  treated  her  roughly.  He  wearied  his 
children  with  his  perpetual  scoldings  and  his  petty 
tyranny, 

I  am  sorry  to  say  that  my  amiable  Margravine 
by  no  means  saw  the  picturesqueness  of  her  new 
position.  Sentimental  persons  rarely  appreciate 
the  picturesque  aspect  of  life.  She  loved  her 
young  husband  passionately ;  everything  else  bored 
her  quite  as  passionately.  Had  she  been  told,  six 
months  earlier,  when  she  left  her  father's  generals, 
that  she  would  have  felt,  at  Bayreuth,  as  did  Ovid 
among  the  Scythians,  she  would  scarcely  have 
believed  it ;  yet  it  was  quite  true.  Berlin,  in  her 
fancy,  became  a  centre  of  luxury  and  refinement. 
Her  father's  letters  added  to  her  exasperation. 
Frederick  William  took  offence,  now  that  his 
money  was  safe,  that  any  one  should  dare  to  com- 
mand his  daughter  and  to  refuse  her  the  common 
necessaries  of  life.  He  adjured  her  tenderly  to 
come  and  "receive  the  caresses  of  a  fond  father," 
promising  to  secure  for  her  ' '  a  good  lodging ' '  and 
interfered,  without  being  asked  to  do  so,  by  re- 
proaching the  old  Margrave  with  his  inconceivable 
avarice.  ' '  I  have  written, ' '  said  he,  "a  very  harsh 
letter  to  your  old  fool  of  a  father-in-law."  His 
daughter  expected  no  good  from  this  interference, 
and  she  was  right.  The  old  man  meant  to  be  mas- 
ter in  his  own  house.  During  the  autumn  of  1732, 
the  Margravine  was  forced  to  borrow  from  her 


33^         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

servants  and  was  unable  to  afford  a  governess  for 
the  daughter  to  whom  she  had  just  given  birth. 
She  made  up  her  mind  to  expose  her  painful  situ- 
ation to  her  father-in-law  and  to  obtain  permission 
to  visit  Berlin.  He  answered  coldly  that  he  was 
' '  greatly  mortified ' '  at  being  unable  to  assist  her, 
but  that  "in  the  marriage  contract  there  was  no 
mention  of  travelling  expenses  for  journeys  which 
she  might  wish  to  take,  nor  of  the  cost  entailed  by 
daughters  whom  she  might  bring  into  the  world." 
She  had  other  and  bitterer  sorrows,  caused  by 
her  brother  Frederick,  sorrows  none  the  less 
cruel  because  they  were  imaginary.  She  thought 
him  forgetful  and  ungrateful,  and  never  was  there 
more  flagrant  injustice.  The  letters  from  Fred- 
erick II  to  the  Margravine  of  Bayreuth  show  an 
affection  as  perfect  as  it  is  constant.  But  he- 
hurt  her,  nevertheless,  by  a  certain  roughness,  and 
because  she  had  not  foreseen  that,  coming  to  man's 
estate,  he  must  necessarily  change  his  tone  of 
submission  and  dependency.  She  was  indignant 
that  he  should  not  be  eternally  at  her  feet  and 
that  his  duties  as  prince  must  sometimes  cause 
him  to  refuse  her  requests.  In  the  second  part 
of  the  Memoirs  she  sometimes  speaks  of  Fred- 
erick with  irritation;  luckily  for  both  of  them  he 
always  forgave  her  fits  of  ill  temper.  He  knew 
that  they  came  from  a  loving  and  jealous  nature, 
rendered  over-sensitive  by  much  suffering,  and  he 
never  ceased  to  admire  the  superior  intelligence, 
the  noble  and  generous  soul  of  her  who  remained 


The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth         339 

to  the  end  "my  incomparable  sister,  my  divine 
sister." 

She  always  came  to  her  senses  and  accused  her- 
self to  her  brother.  Meanwhile  her  imagination 
ran  away  with  her.  She  nursed  her  sorrows,  real 
or  false  accused  now  one,  now  another,  and  vowed 
that  she  was  the  most  unhappy  princess  in  Chris- 
tendom, that  she  was  pursued  by  an  evil  fate. 
Frederick  William  added  to  her  woes  by  ordering 
her  husband  to  join  his  regiment;  a  Prussian 
regiment  must  not  thus  be  left  to  itself.  He  was 
forced  to  obey  and  then  the  Margravine  became 
like  one  possessed.  According  to  her  sex's  logic, 
she  convinced  herself  that  what  she  ardently  de- 
sired was  necessary;  that  she  must  also  go  to 
Berlin;  that  the  Queen  her  mother  was  dying  of 
impatience  to  see  her;  that  the  King,  changed  by 
her  absence,  would  prove  to  be  the  tender  and 
generous  father  which  his  letters  seemed  to  prom- 
ise; that  everybody  would  receive  her  with  open 
arms  and  heap  presents  and  attention  upon  her. 
Yet  the  Queen  on  learning  of  her  intentions  had 
written  very  plainly:  "What  business  have  you 
here?  Is  it  possible  that  you  should  still  believe 
in  the  King's  promises,  after  having  been  so 
cruelly  abandoned  by  him?  Remain  at  home  and 
spare  us  your  perpetual  lamentations;  you  might 
have  expected  all  that  has  happened."  The  ad- 
vise, however  brutally  given,  was  wise,  but  the 
Princess  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  it.  She  managed 
to    scrape    together    the   necessary    money,    and 


340         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

started  for  Berlin,  where  the  most  cruel  disillu- 
sionment of  her  life  awaited  her. 

Sne  arrived  November  i6,  1732,  toward  even- 
ing, preceded  by  a  courier  who  was  to  give  the 
Queen  the  good  news  and  cause  the  whole  palace 
to  be  filled  with  joy.  When  she  stepped  from 
her  carriage  there  was  no  one  to  receive  her. 
All  was  dark.  Much  disturbed,  she  went  to  her 
mother's  room.  The  Queen  on  seeing  her  went 
forward,  took  her  by  the  hand,  and  led  her  to  her 
boudoir.  ''She  threw  herself  in  an  armchair 
without  telling  me  to  sit  down.  Looking  at  me 
severely,  'Why  have  you  come  here?'  said  she. 
My  blood  froze  in  my  veins  at  these  words.  'I 
have  come,'  I  answered,  'on  the  King's  commands, 
but  especially  to  throw  myself  at  the  feet  of  a 
mother  whom  I  adore  and  from  whom  it  is  cruel 
to  be  separated.'  'Say  rather,'  she  continued, 
'that  you  have  come  to  plunge  a  dagger  in  my 
heart  and  to  prove  to  the  world  at  large  that  you 
have  been  fool  enough  to  marry  a  beggar.  After 
such  a  step  you  should  have  remained  at  Bay- 
reuth  so  as  to  hide  your  shame  there,  instead  of 
spreading  it  before  us  all.  That  is  what  I  ordered 
you  to  do.  The  King  will  not  help  you  and  al- 
ready regrets  his  promises.  I  foresee  that  you 
will  deafen  us  with  your  complaints,  which  will 
greatly  annoy  us,  and  that  you  will  be  a  burden 
on  us  all.'  " 

The  heart  of  the  poor  Margravine  was  broken. 
She  fell  to  the  floor  and  sobbed  as  after  a  paternal 


The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth         341 

whipping  when  she  was  a  child.  As  soon  as  she 
was  in  a  fit  state  to  return  to  the  Queen's  room 
she  made  a  show  of  embracing  her  former  friends ; 
but  they  looked  at  her  from  top  to  toe  without 
answering.  Her  favourite  sister  turned  her  into 
ridicule  because  of  her  shabby  clothes.  The 
King  was  not  at  Potsdam.  She  hastened  to  write 
to  him.  After  all  he  had  said  in  his  own  letters, 
she  could  not  doubt  of  his  joy  at  seeing  her.  He 
returned  to  Potsdam  the  following  day.  "He 
received  me  very  coldly.  'Ha!  ha!'  said  he,  'so. 
there  you  are.  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you!'  He 
took  a  light,  examined  his  daughter,  remarked 
that  she  was  greatly  changed,  and  added:  'How 
I  pity  you!  You  have  not  even  bread,  and  but 
for  me  you  would  have  to  beg.  But  I  am  also 
but  a  poor  man  and  cannot  give  you  much.  I 
will  do  what  I  can.  According  as  I  am  able  I 
will  give  you  ten  or  twelve  florins.  That  will 
help  to  lighten  your  misery.'  "  Frederick  alone, 
whom  the  Margravine  in  her  heart  had  accused 
of  inconstancy,  received  her  tenderly.  He  was 
even  on  good  terms  with  his  father;  he  did  all  he 
could  for  his  sister  and  shared  his  purse  with  her. 
Curiously  enough,  after  this  fine  reception,  the 
King  refused  to  allow  his  daughter  and  her  hus- 
band to  go  back  to  Bayreuth.  The  Margrave  was 
a  tolerable  colonel ;  Frederick  William  kept  him  to 
his  work.  The  King's  personal  expense  amounted 
merely  to  the  providing  of  food;  but  that  had  al- 
ways been  a  small  item,  and  he  had  reduced  it  to 


342  Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

almost  nothing.  There  was,  as  of  yore,  nothing 
much  to  eat  at  dinner,  and  supper  was  often  sup- 
pressed. The  Margrave,  quite  in  vain,  begged  the 
King  to  give  him  at  least  a  little  cheese.  The 
King  refused  and  the  prince  ' '  grew  visibly  thinner." 
His  wife  almost  fainted  from  sheer  want.  They 
implored  to  be  allowed  to  go  home,  but  without 
success.  The  summer  of  1733  found  them  still 
in  Berlin.  The  Margravine  was  pretty  nearly 
spent  when  the  festivities  for  Frederick's  marriage 
with  Elisabeth  of  Brunswick  took  place. 

Military  reviews,  as  usual,  formed  the  staple  of 
the  festivities  ordered  by  Frederick  William.  On 
such  days,  the  court  was  on  foot  before  daybreak, 
and  the  ladies,  in  their  gala  dresses,  often  remained 
twelve  hours  on  the  grounds  without  so  much  ' '  as 
a  glass  of  water."  The  Queen  set  a  good  example 
for  she  knew  that  her  lord  accepted  no  excuse 
when  he  condescended  to  show  the  ladies  his  sol- 
diers in  all  their  glory.  There  were,  therefore,  two 
reviews,  to  which  the  King  added  a  negro  concert 
and  a  drive  in  open  carriages,  organised  after  a 
military  fashion;  the  departure  was  fixed  for  such 
an  hour;  a  certain  road  was  to  be  taken;  and  the 
return  was  likewise  fixed  for  a  given  time ;  immedi- 
ately afterwards  the  ball  was  to  take  place.  The 
display  was  immense  and  magnificent.  The  court 
and  the  nobility  filled  nearly  one  hundred  open 
carriages ;  the  women  were  gaily  decked ;  the  King 
led  the  show  which  traversed  Berlin  at  a  foot  pace. 
A  storm  burst.     The   King  did  not  change  his 


The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth         343 

orders ;  rain  never  stops  a  marching  army.  Sheets 
of  water  fell  on  the  ladies'  curls,  on  their  paint  and 
powder.  Hair  and  plumes  hung  about  their  faces, 
the  rich  dresses  clung  to  them,  and  the  procession 
still  went  on  at  a  snail's  pace.  The  procession  was 
to  last  three  hours;  it  lasted  three  hours,  after 
which  dancing  began  as  soon  as  the  ladies  left  their 
carriages.  The  Margravine,  ten  years  later,  could 
not  without  laughing  allude  to  the  appearance 
presented  by  the  drenched  ladies  at  this  ball ;  but 
it  was  too  much  for  one,  already  worn  out  with 
misery  and  privations.  She  was  stricken  with 
fever  and  the  doctors  declared  that  she  would  die 
if  she  were  not  well  fed  and  cared  for.  Yet  Fred- 
erick William  hesitated  to  let  her  go.  He  had 
inspected  the  Margrave's  regiment  and  had  found 
it  admirably  trained;  this  rendered  the  loss  of  its 
colonel  hard  to  bear.  When  urged,  he  answered, 
''My  son-in-law  must  be  subjected  to  military 
duties  and  to  economy."  Frederick  clearly  used 
his  influence  in  order  to  liberate  his  sister ;  she  and 
her  husband  wild  with  delight  started  for  Bay- 
reuth August  23,  1733.  They  swore  never  again 
to  be  tempted  away,  but  it  was  too  late ;  such  vows 
are  rarely  made  in  good  time.  The  Margravine 
never  recovered  from  her  visit  to  Berlin,  and  was 
an  invalid  for  the  rest  of  her  life. 

VH 

When  they  reached  Bayreuth,  they  understood 
how  necessary  was  their  presence.     The  old  Mar- 


344         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

grave  was  declining  rapidly,  his  system  was  ruined, 
and  his  mind  weakened  by  drink.  One  foot  in 
the  grave,  he  had  still  developed  a  senile  passion 
for  his  granddaughter's  governess,  wore  a  new  coat 
every  day,  had  his  hair  dressed  so  as  to  appear 
young,  and  was  most  gallant.  The  Margravine 
could  hardly  believe  her  eyes  when  she  found  her 
father-in-law  changed  into  a  beau.  "He  was  all 
day  long  with  his  beloved,"  she  says,  "to  whom 
he  made  very  moral  declarations,  and  was  content 
to  suck  her  fingers."  But  these  caresses  soon 
proved  insufficient  and  he  proposed  marriage. 
The  Margravine  broke  off  this  union,  the  day  be- 
fore it  was  to  be  declared,  by  menacing  the  future 
bride  with  her  anger.  But  an  old  man's  love  is 
tenacious;  that  of  the  Margrave  grew  in  violence 
the  more  he  sank  into  the  vague  dreams  of  second 
childhood ;  every  one  saw  that  the  fat  face  of  Flora, 
the  governess,  was  each  day  more  indispensable  to 
him.  Drunkenness  brought  the  comedy  to  an  end. 
The  old  Margrave  died  in  1735,  just  when  Flora 
had  made  up  her  mind  to  brave  all  menaces  and 
marry  him. 

The  following  years  were  interesting  for  the 
principality,  but  would  be  less  so  for  the  reader. 
The  Margravine  restored  her  castles,  renewed  her 
furniture,  gave  entertainments,  and  Bayreuth 
took  on  quite  another  aspect.  The  nobility  by 
degrees  lost  its  grotesqueness,  the  traces  of  bar- 
barism were  effaced,  and  this  little  country  was 
caught  up  by  the  movement  of  renovation  which 


The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth         345 

swayed  all  Germany.  Frederick  II  notes  the 
change  very  forcibly  in  the  picture  of  Europe 
which  opens  the  History  of  My  Time.  The  Ger- 
man nation,  says  he,  was  a  prey  to  the  "gothic 
taste"  for  drunkenness  and  coarseness,  resem- 
bling, so  to  speak,  a  field  only  just  harrowed. 
The  rough  field  became  once  more  a  "garden." 
"Riches,  augmented  by  commerce  and  industry, 
have  brought  the  pleasures  and  comforts  of  life, 
and  perhaps  also  those  disorders  inseparable  from 
them.  For  the  last  century,  year  by  year,  the 
number  of  equipages,  the  expenses  for  clothes, 
liveries,  living,  furniture,  have  increased  greatly." 
Frederick  feared  that  the  change  might  be  too 
sudden.  He  would  have  preferred  to  have  his 
people  preserve  for  a  time  at  least,  the  habits  of 
economy  practised  by  the  former  generation,  and 
in  his  visits  to  his  sister  at  Bayreuth,  he  insisted 
upon  this.  "You  do  not  need  so  many  people 
about  you,"  he  would  say  to  her.  "I  advise  you 
to  break  up  your  court  and  to  live  like  simple 
gentlefolk.  At  Berlin  you  had  but  four  dishes 
for  dinner;  you  do  not  need  more,  now."  The 
Margravine,  at  these  sermons,  would  weep,  quite 
persuaded  that  her  brother  no  longer  loved  her, 
for  she  adored  luxury  and,  unfortunately,  she 
could  not  forget  that  she  had  been  on  the  eve  of 
becoming  queen  of  several  great  countries. 

At  Berlin,  old  Frederick  William  resisted  the 
new  spirit  with  all  his  might  and  main,  and  it 
was  time  he  gave  up  his  throne;  he  was  becoming 


346         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

ridiculous.  His  great  work,  the  Prussian  army, 
by  dint  of  being  put  in  a  bandbox,  was  becoming 
ridiculous  also.  It  was  so  well  understood  that 
he  would  never  accept  a  war  that,  relates  his  son, 
"his  allies  treated  him  with  as  little  ceremony  as 
his  enemies."  Great  and  small  monarchs  openly 
expressed  their  contempt  for  him.  "The  Prussian 
officers,  exposed  to  every  contumely,  had  become 
the  laughing  stock  of  the  world;  when  they 
pressed  in  recruits  in  the  imperial  towns,  accord- 
ing to  the  right  of  all  electors,  they  were  arrested 
and  thrown  into  prison;  the  least  among  the 
princes  took  pleasure  in  insulting  Prussians;  even 
the  Bishop  of  Liege  heaped  humiliations  on  the 
King."*  The  old  Margrave  of  Bayreuth  himself 
snarled,  a  little  while  before  he  died,  because  a 
Prussian  officer  had  snapped  up  a  giant  in  his 
states,  and,  almost  at  the  same  time,  the  Dutch 
shot  without  so  much  as  a  trial  a  Prussian  officer 
commanding  a  press  gang,  who  had  been  caught 
on  their  territory.  Frederick  William's  subjects 
were  beginning  to  be  very  "sore"  at  the  "igno- 
miny attached  to  the  name  of  Prussians." 

The  King's  exit  from  this  world  at  least  was 
not  ridiculous.  All  there  was  of  good  and  of  bad 
in  him  showed  vividly  at  the  last  moment,  making 
his  death  both  singular  and  heroic.  It  was  in  the 
month  of  May,  1740.  Frederick  William  was 
dying  of  dropsy.  Ecclesiastics  took  advantage  of 
the  moment  to  exhort  him  to  a  reconciliation 

»  History  of  My  Time.     Chap.  II. 


The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth         347 

with  a  relative.  "Your  Majesty  must  write  to 
him,  saying  that  all  the  wrong  he  has  done  is 
forgiven. "  The  King  was  pious.  ' '  Very  well,"  said 
he,  at  last,  "write  the  letter;  only,  if  I  recover,  do 
not  deliver  it;  it  must  be  sent  only  in  case  I 
should  die."  On  the  31st  of  May  he  felt  very 
ill,  and  caused  himself  to  be  wheeled  to  the 
Queen's  room;  she  was  asleep.  He  awoke  her, 
telling  her  to  dress  as  he  was  about  to  die.  Then 
he  visited  the  royal  princes,  one  after  the  other, 
politely  taking  leave  of  them.  When  he  returned 
to  his  own  room,  he  summoned  his  ministers  and 
all  the  generals  and  colonels  present  in  Berlin, 
and  before  them  gave  up  all  authority  into  the 
hands  of  the  prince  royal,  made  a  little  speech  on 
the  duty  of  sovereigns  toward  their  subjects,  then 
ordered  every  one  to  retire. 

As  soon  as  all  had  left,  he  sent  word  to  give  new 
uniforms  to  his  great  regiment,  and  peacefully 
awaited  death,  having  before  his  mind's  eye  a 
vision  of  giant  grenadiers,  parading  with  immacu- 
late uniform  and  shining  arms.  He  was  asked  to 
allow  the  ecclesiastics  to  enter.  He  declared  that 
' '  he  knew  all  they  could  say  to  him,  therefore  they 
might  as  well  go  away."  He  died  that  day.  His 
generals  mourned  for  him,  his  people  did  not.  His 
son  Frederick  announced  his  death  to  the  Margra- 
vine in  these  words:  "My  very  dear  sister,  the 
good  God  took,  yesterday,  at  three  o'clock,  our 
dear  father  to  Himself.  He  died  with  angelic 
courage  and  without  much  suffering. ' '   The  brother 


348         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

and  sister  showed  a  decent  amount  of  sorrow  and 
were  quickly  consoled,  as  was  their  right.  The 
memory  left  by  this  terrible  father  resembled  a 
nightmare.  Frederick  II,  twenty  years  later,  often 
dreamed  that  Frederick  William  entered  his  room, 
followed  by  soldiers  whom  he  ordered  to  bind  his 
son  and  throw  him  into  prison.  "And  I  would 
wake  bathed  in  perspiration,  as  though  I  had  been 
plunged  into  the  river."  Even  by  day  he  would 
dream  of  it.  "In  the  midst  of  the  pleasures  I 
enjoy,  my  father's  image  arises  before  me  to 
weaken  them." 

The  Margravine,  on  her  side,  forgot  nothing. 
Her  Memoirs  are  the  proof  of  this.  They  stop  in 
1742,  and  we  must  stop  with  them.  The  end  of 
Princess  Wilhelmina's  life  was  absorbed  by  her 
devotion  to  her  brother,  and  this  has  been  revealed 
to  us  especially  through  their  correspondence. 
Here  opens  a  new  phase  of  German  history,  other 
times,  other  faces,  another  tone;  sentiments,  art, 
and  politics  have  taken  the  place  of  life  and  man- 
ners. To  follow  the  Margravine  further  would  be 
quite  another  study,  and  has  already  been  done.^ 
We  even  regret  that  Wilhelmina  should  not,  earlier, 
have  put  down  her  pen,  or  that  she  neglected  to 
tear  from  her  manuscript  the  pages  written  during 
her  bitterness  against  her  brother.  She  acknowl- 
edged her  fault  in  a  noble  and  tender  letter,  and 
Frederick  always  refused  to  see  in  this  beloved 
sister  anything  but  her  noble  heart,  her  great  cour- 

1  Sainte-Beuve,  Causeries  du  Lundi. 


The  Margravine  of  Bayreuth         349 

age,  and  her  "genius."  The  Memoirs  remained 
intact  and  show  the  pettiness  which  is  but  the  alloy 
of  a  generous  nature. 

It  is  true  that  this  alloy  renders  her  singularly 
living  and  —  I  add  under  my  breath  —  very  at- 
tractive. Perfect  people  are  a  bit  monotonous; 
the  little  Margravine  in  ill  health,  jealous  and 
malicious,  interests  us  at  all  times,  in  all  her  moods. 
Her  soul  was  quivering  and  passionate,  her  mind 
bold  and  frank,  her  temper  lively  and  violent,  her 
heart  imperious  in  its  demands.  Whether  we 
praise  or  blame  her,  we  must  confess  that  she  was 
truly  a  woman  even  more  than  a  princess ;  yet,  she 
was  a  princess  to  the  tips  of  her  fingers.  It  is  her 
womanly  side  that  appears  in  the  pamphlet  in  two 
volumes  which  has  been  so  bitterly  criticised,  and 
yet  which  it  would  be  a  great  pity  not  to  possess, 
for  the  court  of  Frederick  William  and  that  of  the 
old  Margrave  of  Bayreuth  form  pictures  which  are 
unique  of  their  kind.  It  was  as  a  princess  that 
she  wrote  in  1757,  at  the  time  of  the  Prussian  re- 
verses, that  she  was  resolved  to  kill  herself  should 
her  brother  set  the  example,  and  Frederick  under- 
stood this  thoroughly  when  he  wrote :  "  I  have  not 
the  heart  to  dissuade  you.  We  think  alike." 
Events  changed  Frederick's  determination  to  "fin- 
ish the  play, ' '  but  the  Margravine  was  soon  to  have 
no  choice  in  the  matter.  For  a  long  time  past  she 
had  been  a  mere  shadow  of  herself.  She  expired 
October  14,  1758,  the  day  of  the  battle  of  Hoch- 
kirchen.     There  can  be  no  more  beautiful  funeral 


35°         Princesses  and  Court  Ladies 

oration  than  that  which  Frederick  the  Great  un- 
consciously gave  in  his  attitude  after  his  defeat 
and  on  learning  of  her  death. 

On  the  14th  of  October,  after  the  battle,  the 
King  called  his  reader,  Henry  of  Catt,  and  received 
him  with  a  calm  face,  reciting  the  speech  of  the 
defeated  Mithridates,  which  he  modified  for  the 
occasion. 

"  Je  suis  vaincu.      Daunus^  a  saisi  I'avantage 
D'une  nuit  qui  laissait  peu  de  place  au  courage,  etc." 

On  the  17  th  of  October,  a  messenger  brought 
the  news  of  the  Margravine's  death.  Henry  of 
Catt  again  was  summoned.  Frederick  II  was  sob- 
bing like  a  child  and  was  several  minutes  without 
being  able  to  utter  a  word.  For  more  than  a  year 
he  had  but  one  cry,  in  the  midst  of  his  tears,  "In 
losing  her  I  have  lost  everything."  This  exclamxa- 
tion  absolves  the  Margravine  for  all  her  faults  and 
her  errors.  Happy  the  woman  who  can  say  to 
herself  that,  at  her  death,  some  human  being  will 
utter  those  words :  "  I  have  lost  everything. ' ' 

'  Count  of  Davin,  who  commanded  the  Austrians  at  Hochkirchen. 


INDEX 


Aden,   Princess  Salm6  sails  to, 

20I. 

Adolphus,    Gustavus,    king    of 

Sweden,  73 ;  reputation  of,  76  ; 

death    of,    77;    book    of,    on 

governing,  82. 
Alberoni,    connection    of,    with 

the  Cellamare  plot,   257. 
Almanack     de     I'Annee      1712, 

written  by  Madame  du  Maine, 

273- 

Amazon,  Christina  of  Sweden 
wished  to  be  considered  an, 
123. 

Anatolia,  the  road  to,  mentioned, 
162. 

Ancenis,  Monsieur  d',  arrests 
Madame  du  Maine,   263. 

Anchin,  abbey  of,  in  Flanders, 
267. 

Anne  of  Austria,  queen  of 
France,  17;  correspondence 
of,  with  Mazarin,  18;  dislike 
of,  to  Marie  Mancini,  23;  op- 
position of,  to  Marie  Mancini, 
3  2 ;  powerful  assistance  of, 
to  Mazarin,  44;  meets  Chris- 
tina   of    Sweden,    124. 

Anti  Lucrece  l',  written  in  hon- 
our of  Madame  du  Maine,  241 . 

Antin,  the  Duke  d',  Memoirs 
of,   254. 

Antwerp,  representation  of 
Christina  of  Sweden  at,   116. 

Apologie,  written  by  Marie 
Mancini,    14. 

Arab  astrologer  consulted  by 
Marie  Mancini,  43. 

Arab  maiden,  daily  life  of ,  161. 

Arab  Princess,  Mem.oirs  of,  148. 
(See  Ruete,   Frau  Emilie.) 

Arab  woman,  life  of,  at  Zanzi- 
bar,   178. 


Augustus,  Elector  of  Saxony 
and  King  of  Poland,  a  suitor 
of  Princess  Wilhelmina's,  312; 
character  of,  313. 

Aulaire,  Monsieur  de  Saint, 
celebrated  for  his  verse,  275. 

Aulnoy,  Madame  d',  describes 
the  life  of  Marie  Mancini  at 
Madrid,   67. 

Aurora  Pavilion,  situated  in  the 
park  at  Sceaux,  232. 

Austria,  relation  of,  to  Ger- 
many in  1729,  317. 

Autobiography  of  Christina  of 
Sweden,    confessions    in    the, 

85,  145- 

Azz6,  head  bibi  to  Sultan  Sejjid 
Said,    153. 

Azzolini,  Cardinal  Dece,  em- 
ployment of,  as  steward  to 
Christina  of  Sweden,  136; 
persuades  Christin  of  Swe- 
den to  sign  her  testament,  144. 


B 


Bargasch,  Sejjid,  Sultan  of  Zan- 
zibar, in  1875,  205. 

Bayreuth,  the  Margrave  of,  an 
impecunious  noble  of  Prussia, 
325;  marriage  of,  to  Princess 
Wilhelmina  of  Prussia,  330 ; 
character  of,  330;  the  wedding 
banquet  of,  332;  enters  the 
military  service  of  Frederick 
William,  340;  return  of,  to  his 
home,  343. 

Bayreuth,  the  Margravine  of. 
Memoirs  of,  288;  called  Wil- 
helmina, bom  July  3,  1709, 
290;  the  early  impressions  of, 
295;  character  of,  296;  rem- 
iniscences of  the  youth  of, 
298;  hardship  and  starvation 


3SI 


35'^ 


Index 


of,  299;  becomes  a  highly  ed- 
ucated woman,  301 ;  affection 
of,  for  her  brother,  302;  the 
sentimentality  of,  304 ;  person- 
alities of,  306;  indifference  of, 
toward  her  first  fiance,  310; 
the  feeling  of,  for  King  Augus- 
tus, 315;  her  life  a  martyrdom 
at  her  father's  court,  318; 
attacked  by  Frederick  Wil- 
liam, 322;  the  marriage  of, 
discussed,  324;  consent  of, 
to  marry  Margrave  of  Bay- 
reuth,  328;  the  wedding  jour- 
ney of ,  January  1 1 ,  1732,333; 
correspondence  of,  with  Fred- 
erick William,  338  ff.;  return 
of,  to  Berlin,  November  16, 
1732,  340;  return  of,  to  her 
husband's  domain,  343;  end 
of  the  Memoirs,  1742,  348; 
death  of,  October  14, 1758,349. 

Bayreuth,  the  principality  of, 
330;  arrival  of  the  bridal  pair 
at,  334;  condition  of  the  es- 
tate of,  335. 

Beauvais,  Madame  de,  intrigues 

of,     II. 

Beauveau,  Marquis  de,  Memoirs 
of,  50. 

Bee,  the  order  of  the,  founded 
by  the  Duchess  of  Maine,  236. 

Benserade,  letter  to,  from  Chris- 
tina of  Sweden,   108. 

Berlin,  the  Margravine  of  Bay- 
reuth returns  to,  November 
16,    1732,  340. 

Bernard,  Samuel,  works  of,  82. 

Berry,  the  Duke  of,  death  of, 
July,    1 7 14,    243. 

Bet-il-Mtoui,  palace  of,  near 
Zanzibar,    150. 

Bet-il-Sahel,  castle  of  Sultan 
Sejjid  Said,  154;  bustle  and 
confusion     at,      184. 

JBibi,  legitimate  wives  of  the 
Sultan,    153. 

Bievre,  the  River,  flows  near  the 
castle  of  Sceaux,  233. 

Billarderie,  La,  Lieutenant, 
orders  to,  concerning  the 
arrest  of  Madame  du  Maine, 
264;  conduct  toward  his  pris- 
oner,   265  ff. 


Birth,  customs  at,  in  Arabia, 
165. 

Blanc,  Monsieur  le,  Secretary 
of  State,  letter  to,  June  30, 
1719,   266. 

Boisrobert,  Abbe  de,  the  mad- 
rigals of,  134. 

Bohemia,  condition  of  the  coun- 
try, 294. 

Bonrepos,  Monsieur  de,  for- 
gotten   in    the    Bastille,    271. 

Bouillon,  Duchess  of,  banish- 
ment of  from  court,   71. 

Bourbon,  Anne  Louise  Bene- 
dicte  de,  bom  in  1676,  grand- 
daughter of  Prince  Conde,  210 
ff.  {See  Maine,  the  Duchess 
of.) 

Bourbon,  Duchess  of,  sister-in- 
law  of  the  Duchess  of  Maine, 
216. 

Bourdelot,  the  Sens  barber  at 
the  Court  of  Christina,  102; 
character  of,  103  ff.;  takes 
charge  of  Christina  of  Sweden, 
104 ;  the  great  triumph  of,  106 ; 
great  influence  of,  109. 

Brienne,  Monsieur  de,  Mem.oirs 
of,  22. 

Brigault,  Abbe,  position  of,  on 
committee  of  conspirators, 
257;   confession   of,    260. 

Brinon,  Madame  de,  letter  to, 
March  25,  1692,  from  Mad- 
ame de  Maintenon,  219;  letter 
to,  August  13,  1693,  221. 

Brouage,  castle  of,  Marie  Man- 
cini  at,  39. 

Burgundy,  the  Duke  of,  death 
of,  July,   1 7 14,  243. 

Brussels,  Christina  of  Sweden 
at,    115. 


Carrero,  Porto,  Abb^,  detained 
at  Poitiers,  258. 

Casimir,  John,  abdication  of, 
140. 

Catholic  faith,  public  profession 
of,  November  3,  1655,  by 
Christina  of  Sweden,  116. 

Catt,  Henry  of,  reader  for  Fred- 
erick II,  350. 


Index 


353 


Caylus,  Madame  de,  niece  of 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  214. 

Cellamare,  the  plot  of,  257. 

Chantelauze,  Monsieur,  opin- 
ions of,  25. 

Chantilly,  Louis  XIV  at,  39; 
the  Duchess  of  Maine's  early 
residence  at,   212. 

Chanut,  Monsieur,  a  friend  of 
Christina  of  Sweden,  133. 

Charles  Augustus,  heir  to  Chris- 
tina of  Sweden,  no. 

Charles  XI,  successor  of  Charles 
Augustus,  to  crown  of  Swe- 
den, 137. 

Charles  of  Lorraine,  Prince,  love 
of,  for  Marie  Mancini,  50,  52 

Chatelet,  Madame  du,  visit 
of,  to  Madame  du  Maine, 
August  15,  1747,  276;  on  the 
stage,  278. 

Chatenay,  the  coufitry  seat  of 
Mal^zieu,  229. 

Chatillon,  Madame  de,  inter- 
est of  Louis  XIV  in,  1 1 . 

Chevreuse,  Madame  de,  con- 
fidante of    Anne  of    Austria, 

17-      ^ 

Chigi,  Flavio,  cardinal,  becomes 
enamoured  of  Marie  Mancini, 
56. 

Choisy,  Abb^,  Memoirs  of,  31; 
version  of,  on  the  contest  be- 
tween Mazarin  and  Marie 
Mancini,  45. 

Chole,  the  beautiful,  daughter 
of  Sejjid  Said,  190. 

Christina  of  Sweden,  character 
of,  73;  bom,  December  8, 
1626,  74;  under  guardianship 
of  regency  council,  78;  educa- 
tion of,  82  ff.;  physique  of,  84: 
opinion  of  herself,  86 ;  reaches 
her  majority,  87 ;  deplorable 
education  of,  93  ;  virtue  of,  96 ; 
court  of,  98;  library  of,  99; 
represented  as  Minerva, Diana, 
and  Victory,  100;  offered  to 
abdicate,  October  25,  165 1, 
102;  the  sudden  change  in 
character  of,  105;  abandon- 
ment of  studies  by,  107 ;  wrath 
of  the  people  against,  109;  de- 
termination   of,    to   abdicate. 


February  11,  1654,  no;  en- 
treated to  remain,  112;  as- 
sumption of  man's  clothes, 
113;  various  episodes  in  the 
travels  of,  115  ff.;  public  pro- 
fession of  Catholic  faith,  No- 
vember 3,  1655,  116;  entry 
into  Rome  of,  iz8  ff.;  despoiled 
of  her  library,  121;  arrival  of, 
at  Paris,  124;  meeting  of,  with 
Anne  of  Austria,  125;  advises 
Louis  XIV  to  marry  Marie 
Mancini,  127  ;  participation  of, 
in  death  of  Marquess  Monal- 
deschi,  i2g  ff.;  departure  from 
Paris  of,  134;  pension  from 
Sweden  fails,  135;  demand  of, 
from  Germany,  for  twenty 
thousand  men  to  invade  Swe- 
den, 136;  lack  of  finances  of, 
137;  disputes  the  succession 
to  crown  of  Sweden,  138;  in- 
trigues of,  for  throne  of  Po- 
land, 139;  suffers  an  attack  of 
erysipelas  in  1688,  143;  death 
of,  April  19,  1689,  144. 

Circassian  mother  of  Princess 
Salme,  164. 

Civita  Vecchia,  visited  by  Marie 
Mancini  and  her  sister,  59. 

Clagny,  the  castle  of,  built  by 
Louis  XIV,  228. 

Colonna,  Conn^table,  proposal 
of,  to  Marie  Mancini,  47  ;  mar- 
ries Marie  Mancini,  53 ;  love 
of,  for  his  wife,  55. 

Colonna,  Madame.  (5e^  Mancini; 
Marie.) 

Compiegne,  Christina  joins  Louis 
XIV  of  France  at,  124. 

Contte  de  Boursoufle,  written  by 
Voltaire,   278. 

Conspirators,  committees  of , 2  5  7 . 

Conti,  Prince  of,  married  in  1652, 
21. 

Copper  money,  used  in  Sweden , 
90. 

Correggio,  pictures  of,  100. 

Costumes,  worn  by  Arab  wom- 
en, 180. 

Courart,  Memoirs  of,  134. 

Court  of  Christina  of  Sweden,  98. 

Court  of  Louis  XIV,  description 
of,  226, 


354 


Index 


Cottrtiers,  at  Bayreuth,  the  rus- 
tic appearances  of,  336. 

Crequi,  the  Duke  of,  messenger 
of  Louis  XIV,  to  Marie  Man- 
cini,  63. 

Customs,  primitive  form  of,  in 
Sweden,  89. 


D 


Declaration,  the,  of  Madame  du 
Maine,  269 ;  read  at  the  council 
of  the  regency,  270. 

Decree  of  1 7 1 7 ,  against  the  Duke 
and  Duchess  of  Maine,  353. 

Deflfand,  Madame  du,  letter  to, 
278. 

Djohar,  chief  of  the  eunuchs, 
190. 

Denmark,  Christina  of  Sweden 
in,  113. 

Dresden,  Frederick  William  vis- 
its, in  1728,  313. 

Dubois,  Abb^,  spies  in  the  ser- 
vice of,  356. 

Dunkerque,  siege  of,  1658,  6. 


E 


Edward  of  Bavaria,  the  daugh- 
ter of,  mother  to  the  Duchess 
of  Maine,  212. 

Eleanore  of  Olbreuse,  grand- 
mother of  Wilhelmina  of 
Prussia,  291. 

Elisabeth  of  Brunswick  be- 
comes the  wife  of  Frederick 
II  of  Prussia,  342. 

Enclos,  Ninon  de  1',  Christina  of 
Sweden  visits,  127. 

Estr^es,  Madame  d',  death  of, 
in  1747,  283. 

Eugene  of  Carignan,  Prince, 
married  in  1657,  21. 


Faubourg  Saint  Antoine,  gate 
of,  entrance  at,  of  Christina  of 
Sweden,  September  8,  1656, 
124. 


Fayette,  Madame  de  La,  version 
of,  on  Marie  Mancini's  depar- 
ture, 39. 

Ferdinand,  Emperor,  mentioned, 
76. 

Financial  crisis,  in  Sweden,  92  ff. 

Fontainebleau,  the  Court  of 
Louis  XIV  at,  23,  51. 

Fontevrault,  the  Abbess  of,  ad- 
vice sought  of,  217. 

France, influence  of  ,on  Sweden, 97. 

Frederick  II,  crown  prince  of 
Prussia,  291 ;  great  fear  of,  for 
his  father,  300;  affection  of, 
for  his  sister,  302  ff.;  determi- 
nation of,  to  leave  the  coun- 
try, 319  ;  confides  in  his 
friend  Katt,  319  ff.;  arrest  of, 
reported,  320  ;  his  papers 
destroyed,  321  ;  prosecution 
against,  326;  grief  at  the  loss 
of  Katt,  328;  continued  ad- 
miration of,  for  his  sister,  339; 
marriage  of,  to  Elisabeth  of 
Brunswick,  in  1733,  342; 
writes  the  History  of  My 
Time,  345 ;  later  letters  of,  to 
his  sister,  347. 

Frederick  William  I,  second 
king  of  Prussia,  290;  charac- 
ter of,  291;  amount  of  the 
fortune  of,  293;  avarice  of, 
295;  rough  discipline  of,  297; 
scarcity  of  food  at  the  court 
of,  298;  weaknesses  of,  300; 
his  antipathy  for  all  writings, 
301 ;  opinion  of,  on  his  daugh- 
ter's marriage,  308;  religious 
mania  of,  310;  anger  turns  to 
delirium  in  1729,  316;  is  re- 
duced to  a  rolling  chair,  318; 
sentiments  of,  toward  his  son- 
in-law,  331 ;  lack  of  generosity 
of,  333 ;  pleas  of,  for  his  daugh- 
ter's return,  337;  reception  of, 
for  Wilhelmina,  341 ;  great 
success  of,  with  Prussian 
army,  346;  death  of.  May  31, 

1740,  347- 
French  ideas   and    fashions  in 

Germany,  316. 
Fromentin,     Eugene,    describes 

death  of  Haoua,  179. 
Fronde,  the  period  of,  1647,  2. 


Index 


355 


Gamache,  wedding  feast  at,  i86. 

Genest,  Ahh6,  preserved  a  vol- 
ume of  poems  in  honour  of  the 
Duchess  of  Maine,  233. 

George  I,  king  of  England,  the 
prerogatives  of,  309. 

German  customs,  compared  to 
French  ones,  316. 

Gibertiere,  Monsieur  de  La,  en- 
voy of  Louis  XIV,  63. 

Gloucester,  the  Duke,  engage- 
ment of,  to  Princess  Wilhel- 
mina,  308. 

Great  Nights  of  Sceaux,  the  ori- 
gin of,  238. 

Groot,  Peter  de,  ambassador 
from  Holland,  139. 

Guise,  the  Duke  of,  meeting  of, 
with  Christina  of  Sweden,  122. 

Guyenne,  Queen  Eleanor  of,  193, 


H 


Hamburg,  visited  by  Christina 
of  Sweden,  113;  entered  by 
Christina,  August  18,  1660, 
138. 

Hamdam,  a  brother  to  Princess 
Salme,  172. 

Haoua,  the  Moorish  woman, 
death  of,  179. 

Hindoo  workmen,  in  Zanzibar, 
182. 

Hochkirchen,  battle  of,  October 

14,  1758,  349- 
Houdard,  La  Motte,  mentioned, 

284. 
Houses    of    France,    important, 

discontinuation  of,  72. 
Huet,  bishop  of  Avranches,  at 

the  Court  of  Christina,  97. 
Hymettus,  Mount,  the  bees  of, 

236. 


Ines  de  Castro,  written  by  La 
Motte,  276. 

Infanta  of  Spain,  the,  25;  con- 
nection of,  with  Louis  XIV  of 
France,  32;  marriage  of,  to 
Louis  XIV,  52. 


Innocent  XI,  Pope,  quarrel  of, 
with  Christina  of  Sweden,  142 . 

Inspruck,  Christina  of  Sweden 
at,  116. 

Islamism,  simplicity  of,  164. 

K 

Katt,  "Fritz,"  a  friend  of  Fred- 
erick II,  arrested,  323;  exe- 
cution of,  328. 

Kibibi,  diminutive.      (See  bibi.) 

"King  of  Snow,"  name  applied 
to  Gustavus  Adolphus,  76. 

Koran,  important  position  of 
the,  in  Arabian  schools,  174. 

Kustrin,  tragedy  of,  303. 


La  Fayette,  Madame  de,  de- 
scribes Marie  Mancini,  9.  {See 
Fayette.) 

Lakanostrophos,  a  brook  cross- 
ing the  park  of  Sceaux,  274. 

La  Motte,  a  lover  of  Madame 
du    Maine,    275. 

La  Prude,  written  by  Voltaire, 
280. 

Laval,   Count   of,    257. 

Le  Bel,  Father,  summoned  by 
Christina  of  Sweden,  Novem- 
ber 6,  1657,  129;  description 
of,  on  the  death  of  Marquess 
Monaldeschi,  129  ff.;  implora- 
tions  of,  to  save  Monaldes- 
chi's  life,   131. 

L6ti,  Mademoiselle,  governess 
to  Princess  Wilhelmina,   297. 

Lorraine,  Chevalier  de,  exiled 
from  France,  57. 

Louis  XIV,  king  of  France,  the 
illness  of  1658,  10;  great 
friendship  of,  for  Marie  Man- 
cini, 13;  coronation  of.  May 
14,  1643,  16;  friendship  of, 
becomes  love  for  Marie  Man- 
cini, 33;  becomes  enamoured 
of  the  Infanta  of  Spain,  49; 
marriage  of,  to  the  Spanish 
princess,  June  6,  1660,  49; 
visit  of,  to  Brouage,  50; 
method  adopted  by,  for  en- 
tertainments, 220;  death  of, 
September  i,    1715,   248. 


356 


Index 


Ludolf ,  Job,  author  of  works  on 

Ethiopia,    loi. 
Luis  de  Haro,  Don,  minister  to 

Spain  in  1659,  34. 
Lutheran  catechism,  committed 

to  memory  by  Christina,  64. 
Lutzen,  battle  of,  November  6, 

1632,    78. 
Luynes,  the  Duke  of,  Memotrs 

of,  241;  description  of,  on  the 

death  of  Madame  du  Maine, 

285. 
Lyons,  Christina  of  Sweden  at, 


M 


Madrid,  sojourn  of  Marie  Man- 
cini  at,  47 

Madjid,  Sultan  of  Zanzibar,  199, 

Magistrates,  illiteracy  of,  in 
Sweden,  89. 

Magnus  of  Gardie,  Count,  a  fav- 
otirite  of  Christina,  96;  end  of 
his  popularity,   97. 

Mahometan,  characteristics  of 
a,    164. 

Maine,  the  Duchess  of,  210; 
bom  in  1676,  210;  diminutive 
stature  of,  213;  married  the 
Duke  of  Maine  on  March  18, 
1692,  at  the  age  of  fifteen  and 
a  half,  217;  radical  departure 
of,  from  court  etiquette,  222; 
considered  pretty,  224;  as- 
pirations of,  227  ff.;  visit  of, 
to  Malezieu,  230;  entry  of, 
into  Sceaux,  232  ;  great  vanity 
of,  240 ;  the  vow  of,  to  become 
the  most  important  person- 
age in  the  kingdom,  241 ; 
plans  of,  for  her  husband  to 
obtain  the  regency  at  death 
of  Louis  XIV,  246 ;  arrival  of, 
at  the  Tuileries,  249;  defeat 
of,  256;  part  taken  in  Cellamare 
plot,  257;  arrest  of,  261;  con- 
dition of,  in  prison,  266;  the 
public  confession  of,  269;  re- 
turn to  Sceaux,  January, 
1720,  270;  personified  by 
Venus,  273;  the  acquaintance 
of,  with  Voltaire,  276;  ap- 
pears   on    the    stage    in    Vol- 


taire's plays,  280 ff.;  continued 
diversions  of,  283;  death  of, 
January  23,  1753,  285. 

Maine,  the  Duke  of,  contem- 
plates matrimony,  213;  ille- 
gitimate offspring  of  Madam 
de  Montespan,  214;  early  life 
of,  215;  becomes  heir  to  the 
Grande  Mademoiselle,  216; 
purchases  the  castle  of 
Sceaux,  December  20,  1699, 
231 ;  awe  of,  for  his  wife,  237; 
advancements  of,  242 ;  de- 
creed successor  to  the  crown 
of  France  July,  17 14,  243; 
desertion  of,  by  the  troops, 
247;  becomes  tutor  for  Louis 
XV  instead  of  regent,  248  ff.; 
despair  of,  at  the  decree  of 
1717.  253;  loss  of  all  sem- 
blance of  power  of,  255  ;  arrest 
of,  261. 

Maintenon,  Madame  de,  wrote 
of  Louis  XIV  in  1705,  12; 
care  of,  for  the  Duke  of  Maine 
in  childhood,  214. 

Malezieu,  Monsieur  de,  ex- tutor 
of  Monsieur  du  Main,  229; 
the  arrest  of,  at  Sceaux,  268. 

Mancini,  Laure,  Duchess  of  Mer- 
coeur,  4. 

Mancini,  Marie,  the  appearance 
of,  at  the  Court  of  Louis  XIV, 
i;  in  Paris,  1653,  3,  9;  charac- 
teristics of,  9  ff.;  Louis  XIV, 
becomes  enamoured  with,  12; 
the  Apologie  of,  14;  becomes 
confidante  and  adviser  to  the 
king,  16;  ambitions  of,  21  ff.; 
characteristics  of,  31;  de- 
parture of,  to  Brouage,  39; 
wonderful  power  of,  43 ;  learns 
of  an  agreement  on  the  Span- 
ish marriage  of  Louis  XIV, 
46;  becomes  a  mere  adven- 
turess, 50;  refused  permission 
to  marry  Lorraine,  52;  be- 
comes wife  of  Connetable 
Colonna,  53 ;  first  child  bom 
to.  55;  jealousy  of,  for  Colon- 
na, 57  ff. ;  flight  of,  from  Rome, 
May  29,  1672,  59;  incidents 
of  the  flight  of,  60  ff.;  is 
placed  in  a  convent  at  Melun, 


Index 


357 


64;  degradation  of,  65  ff.;  at 
Madrid,  67;  return  of,  to 
France  in  1684,  70;  travels  to 
Italy  in  1705,  71;  probable 
death  of  in  1715,  in  Italy  or 
Spain ,   72. 

Mancini,  Olympe,  Countess  of 
Soissons,  8;  marriage  of,  to 
Prince  Eugene  of  Carignan, 
1657,  21. 

Manechini,  Captain,  overtakes 
Marie  Mancini,   61. 

Manuscripts  collected  by  Chris- 
tina of  Sweden  despoiled,  121. 

Marguerite  of  Savoie,  Princess, 
projected  union  of,  with  Louis 
XIV,    24. 

Marie  Th6rese,  Princess  of  Conti, 
213. 

Martinozzi,  Anne-Marie,  Prin- 
cess of  Conti,  4;  marriage  of, 
to  Prince  of  Conti,  1652,   21. 

Martinozzi,  Laure,  duchess  of 
Modena,    4. 

Mary  Eleonore,  queen  of  Swe- 
den, mother  of  Christina  of 
Sweden,  74;  lack  of  judgment 
of,  75;  sorrow  of,  at  death  of 
Adolphus,  yg  ff. 

Mascat,  the  white  asses  of,  152. 

Matthiae,  John,  tutor  and  pro- 
fessor for  Christina  of  Sweden, 

79- 

Mazarin,  Cardinal,  the  nieces  of, 
2 ;  characteristics  of  the  family 
of,  3  ff.,  enormous  fortune  of, 
5 ;  early  years  of,  7 ;  correspon- 
dence of,  with  Anne  of  Aus- 
tria, 17  ff.;  reports  concerning 
marriage  of,  to  Anne  of 
Austria,  19;  lack  of  prudence 
of,  23 ;  romance  of,  with 
Louis  XIV,  28;  threatens  to 
retire  to  Italy,  41;  inspired 
antipathy  among  the  nobles, 
45 ;  change  of  attitude  of,  to- 
ward Marie  Mancini,  48;  death 
of,  March  9,  1661,  54;  re- 
ception of,  for  Christina  of 
Sweden ,   122. 

Mazarin,  Duchess  of,  the  Mem- 
oirs of,  66;  death  of,  71. 

Mazarin,  family  of,  in  France,  16 
dispersion  of,   71. 


Medal,  of  Christina,  as  Minerva, 
100. 

Medde,  a  sort  of  mattress,  men- 
tioned, 179. 

Medici,  Cardinal,  palace  of, 
bombarded  by  Christina  of 
Sweden,  120. 

Meilleraye,  Duke  de  La,  mar- 
riage of,  to  Hortense,  niece  of 
Mazarin,   53. 

Melun,  convent  at,  Marie  Man- 
cini placed  in,  64. 

Modena,  Duchess  of,  1655,  21; 
death  of,  71. 

Monaldeschi,  Marquess,  grand 
equerry,  128;  murder  of,  132. 

Montargis,  Christina  of  Sweden 
spends  the  night  at,  127. 

MontecucuUi,  General,  of  Ger- 
many,   136. 

Montespan,  Madame  de,  mother 
of  the  Duke  of  Maine,  213. 

Montglat,    Memoirs    of,    112. 

Montpensier,  Mademoiselle  de, 
Memoirs  of,  32;  confidante  of 
Christina  of  Sweden,    124. 

Montpensier,  Monsieur  de.  Mem- 
oirs of,  50. 

Motteville,  Madame  de,  accuses 
Mazarin,  1658,  6;  version  of, 
on  Marie  Mancini's  departure, 

39-      ^, 
Motteville,      Mademoiselle      de, 

describes     meeting     between 

Christina  of  Sweden  and  Anne 

of  Austria.  124. 
Mussulman,  fasting  of  the,  187. 


N 


Nattier,  portrait  of  Madame  du 
Maine  painted   by,    225. 

Nevers,  Duke  of,  a  brilliant 
scatter-brain ,  21. 

Notre  Dame,  Christina  of  Swe- 
den receives  holy  communion 
at,    124. 

Noves,    Laura    of,    mentioned, 

193- 
Nuremberg,      fortifications     at, 

293- 
Nymph  of  Sceaux,  a  nickname 
given  to  Madame  du   Maine, 
233- 


358 


Index 


o 


Odin,  mythological  god,  76. 

Oman,  the  thoroughbreds  of, 
152. 

Orleans,  Monsieur  d',  a  prophecy 
concerning,  242 ;  aspirations 
of,  for  the  regency,  244;  re- 
views the  troops,  August  23, 
1715,  247;  elected  regent, 
September  2,  1715,  248; 
causes  the  arrest  of  the  Duke 
and  Duchess  of  Maine,  261  ff. 

Oxenstiem,  Chancellor,  regent 
of  Sweden,  78;  political  policy 
of,  92. 


Pancrace,  Doctor,  mentioned, 
89. 

Patin,  Guy,  writes  of  Bourdelot, 
no. 

Perfumery  used  by  Arab  wom- 
en, 183. 

Plague,    damage    wrought    by, 

293- 
Poissonnet,    Clairet,    first    valet 

of   the  chamber   to  Christina 

of  Sweden,  97. 
Polignac,  Cardinal  de,  257;  exile 

to  his    abbey  of    Anchin    in 

Flanders,  267. 
Polish  Diet,  alarmed  at  the  can- 
didature of  Christina  of  Swe- 
den, 140. 
Pomerania,  hope  of  Christina  of 

Sweden  to  conquer,  136. 
Pompadour,    the    Marquess    of, 

257 ;  the  confession  of,  268 ;  the 

pardon  of,  270. 
Pont    Royal,    the    council   held 

under  the,  256. 
Porta   del   Populo,   situated  on 

the  Tiber,   the  bathing  place 

of  Madame  Colonna,  58  ^. 
Potsdam,    Princess    Wilhelmina 

bom   at,    July   3,    1709,    290; 

council  of  war  at,  327. 
Prince,    Monsieur  le,    father   of 

the    Duchess   of   Maine,    211; 

a  veritable  ogre,  213. 
Prussia,    first  appearance  upon 

the  world's  stage,  295;  dislike 


of  the  people  of,  for  the  later- 
year  methods  of  Frederick 
William,  346. 

Purgon,  Monsieur,  jokes  dedi- 
cated to,  273. 

Pyrenees,  treaty  of,  17,  53. 

R 

Ramadan,  the  fasting  time  of 
the,  187;  a  perpetual  carouse, 
188. 

Regency  council,  training  of,  78. 

Ren^e,  Monsieur  Am^d^e,  opin- 
ion of,  on  Mazarin,  72. 

Richelieu,  Cardinal,  characteris- 
tics of,  17. 

Rhine  wine,  used  extensively  in 
Sweden,  90. 

Rome,  Christina  of  Sweden  vis- 
its, 118;  plague  at,  128. 

Rome  Sauvee,  successfully  acted 
in  November,  1794,  281. 

Reute,  Frau  Emilie,  Memoir  <;ot, 
148;  born  in  Zanzibar  about 
1844,  149;  christened  Prin- 
cess Salm^,  150.  {See  Salm^, 
Princess.) 

Ruete,  Herr,  death  of,  158;  ap- 
pearance of,  in  Arabia,  200. 


Said,  Sejjid,  Iman  of  Muscat, 
sultan  of  Zanzibar,  149;  the 
harems  of,  150;  description  of, 
152. 

Sainte-Beuve,  critical  instinct 
of,  288. 

Saint  Dorothea,  Christina  buried 
from,  145. 

Saint  Jean  d'Ang^ly,  Louis 
XIV  and  Marie  Mancini  meet 
at,  August  10,  1659,  24. 

Saint-Jean-de-Luz,    Mazarin  at, 

17.  34- 

Saint-Simon,  judgment  of,  on 
Marie  Mancini,  8;  denounces 
Mazarin,  45. 

Saint-Simon,  Madame  de,  237. 

Salm6  {See  Ruete,  Frau  Emilie), 
compares  European  and  Arab 
customs,  1 56;  the  German  and 
Christian  education  of,  157; 
arguments  of,  163 ;  children  of, 
166;  early  life  of,  in  Arabic, 


Index 


359 


168  ff.;  life  at  school,  175;  hard- 
ships of,  178;  Princess,  photo- 
graph of,  181  ;  describes  the 
return  of  the  fleet,  186  ff.; 
irritation  of,  193;  witnesses 
the  departure  of  Sejjid  Said, 
197;  departure  of,  to  Aden, 
201;  becomes  Frau  Ruete, 
201;  hope  of,  to  return  to 
Arabia,  205 ;  return  to  Arabia, 
207. 

Sarari,  illegitimate  wives  of  the 
sultan,  153. 

Scandinavia,  mythology  of,  76. 

Sceaux,  the  court  of  the  Duchess 
of  Maine  at,  210;  purchased 
by  the  Duke  of  Maine,  231; 
built  by  Perrault,  232 ;  amuse- 
ments at,  234  ff.  ;  Madame  du 
Maine  returned  to,  January, 
1720,  270. 

Scheie,  a  name  for  drapery  in 
Arabia,  195. 

Schwedt,  the  Margrave  of,  sug- 
gested as  husband  for  Prin- 
cess Wilhelmina,  325. 

Seckendorf,  the  Austrian  envoy, 
attempt  of,  to  make  Prussia 
and  England  quarrel,  309. 

Senate  of  Sweden  educates  the 
queen,  80. 

Sentinelli,  Count,  captain  of  the 
guard  of  Christina  of  Sweden, 
128;  murders  Monaldeschi, 
132. 

Sibyl  of  the  North,  name  ap- 
plied to  Christina  of  Sweden 
in  France,  122. 

Soissons,  Duchess  of,  departure 
from  France  of,  January, 
1680,  71. 

"Sons  of  Cats,"  nickname  for 
children  of  Circassians,  167. 

Sophia  Dorothea,  queen  of  Prus- 
sia, 290;  kind  and  generous 
disposition  of,  290,  character 
of,  291;  her  just  pride  of 
birth,  304;  demands  of,  for  a 
worthy  alliance  for  her  daugh- 
ter, 307;  prevents  her  hus- 
band from  committing  sui- 
cide, 316;  gives  a  ball  for  her 
daughter,  320;  aid  of,  to  her 
son,  321. 


Spain,  negotiations  with,  in 
1659,  34. 

St.  Honor^,  rue,  Madame  du 
Maine  arrested  at,  263. 

Staal,  Madame  de,  describes 
Madame  du  Maine,  223;  opin- 
ion of,  229;  describes  the  over- 
throw of  the  Duke  and  Duch- 
ess of  Maine,  255  ^. ;  liberation 
of,  271. 

Stockholm,  capital  of  Sweden, 
appearance  of,  in  1650,  90  ff. 

Suhur,  Arabian  supper,  188. 

Surie,  members  of  a  harem  in 
Arabia,  170. 

Sweden,  pride  of,  for  Christina, 
81  ff.;  government  of,  82; 
court  of,  under  Christina, 
109. 


Thirty  Years'  War,  disastrous 
extent  of,  289,  293. 

Throne  of  France,  deemed  with- 
in reach  of  Marie  Mancini,  16; 
lost  to  Marie  Mancini,  31. 

Thurloe,  John,  Secretary  of 
Council  of  State,  114. 


U 


Upsal,  school  at,  in  161 1,  88; 
University  of,  foimded  in 
1476,  88. 


V 


Val-de-Grace,  threat  of  Anne  of 

Austria  to  take  refuge  at,  32. 
Vaubrun,  Abb6  de,  inventor  of 

the    Great   Nights   of   Sceaux, 

239. 
Venel,  Madame  de,  governess  of 

Marie  Mancini,  42. 
Venus,     representation    of,     by 

Marie  Mancini,  55. 
Villars,    Madame    de,    describes 

Marie    Mancini,   February    i, 

1681,  69. 
Voltaire,    quarrel    of,    with   the 


36o 


Index 


powers,  1746,  276;  letter  of, 
from  Berlin,  to  Madame  du 
Maine,  December  18,  1752, 
284. 

W 

Wachter,   the  Latin  verses  by, 

300. 
Wedding  ceremony,  among  the 

Arabs,  160. 
Weissenfels,  the  Duke  of,  suitor 

for  Princess  Wilhelmina,  315. 
Westphalia,    treaty   of,    signed, 

94. 


Wilhelmina,  Princess.  (See  Bay- 
reuth,  Margravins  of,.) 

Whitelock,  letter  of  to  Court  of 
Sweden,  114. 

Wusterhausen,  residence  of 
Frederick  William  at,  311. 


Zadig,    written   by    Voltaire    in 

1746,  276. 
Zanzibar,  the  slave  market  at, 

165;    departure    of   the    fleet 

from,  183, 


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The  Youth  of  La  Grande 
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1627^1652 

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clouds  of  dust,  with  regiments  of  cavalry  wheeling  and  whirling  around 
her  to  the  sound  of  the  trumpets — the  stern  devotee  of  reason  who  dis- 
missed one  of  her  maids  because  she  married  for  love — the  philosopher 
who  debated  in  her  mimic  court  whether  an  accepted  lover  is  more  un- 
happy than  a  rejected  lover  in  the  absence  of  the  beloved.  .  .  .  The 
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Princesses  and  Court 
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were  watched  with  eager  interest  by  all  Europe.  The  stories  are  full  of 
romantic  interest,  vividly  picturesque,  and  written  with  the  easy  grace  and 
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Q.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 
NEW  YORK  LONDON 


He  holds  a  place  alone  and  unapproachable  in 
the  history  of  critical  literature. 


By  C.  A.  SAINTE  BEUVE 

Portraits   of  the 
Seventeenth    Century 

Historic  and  Literary 

Translated  by  KATHARINE  P.  WORMELEY 
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Portraits  of  the 
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Historic  and  Literary- 
Translated  by  R.  P.  "WORMELEY  and  G.  B.  IVES 
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The  quality,  the  discernment,  and  balance,  the 
intuitive  grasp  of  essentials,  the  grace,  force,  and 
jutsice  of  Sainte-Beuve's  critical  work  have  placed 
him  in  the  front  rank, — perhaps  it  would  be  better  to 
say,  have  given  him  a  place  alone  and  unapproach- 
able in  the  history  of  critical  literature.  In  the 
present  volumes.  Miss  Wormeley  and  Mr.  Ives  have 
selected  a  series  of  forty-eight  studies  of  men  and 
women,  literary  and  historical,  of  17th  and  i8th 
Century  France. 

Miss  Wormeley  is  well-known  as  the  translator  of 
Balzac,  and  Mr.  Ives  as  the  translator  of  the  Series 
of  Little  French  Masterpieces. 

"  The  translator  is  a  true  servant  and  friend,  not  the  proverbial  traducer  ; 
none  but  Miss  Wormeley  could  have  been  selected  for  the  task,  and  she  has 
given  of  her  best,  her  indefatigable,  conscientious,  intellectual  best  which  has 
made  her  the  mistress  of  a  difficult  art." — The  Evening  Mail. 


New  York       Q.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS         London 


Little  French  Masterpieces 

Representative  Tales  by  the  Best 
French  Authors 

Edited  by 
ALEXANDER  JESSUP 

Translations  by 
GEORGE  BURNHAM  IVES 

With  portraits  in  Photogravure.     Issued  in  a  small 
and  attractive  form 

Six  volumes,  i6°,  in  a  hox,  cloth,  $6.00 
Limp  leather,  $j.so 

Also  sold  separately  Cloth,  $1.00  Leather,  $1.25 


I.     Prosper  M6rim6e.     Introduction  by  Grace  King. 

II.     Gustave    Flaubert.      Introduction    by   Frank    Thomas 
Marzials. 

III.     Th^ophile  Ga^utier.      Introduction  by  Frederic-Cesar  de 
Sumichrast. 

IV.     Alphonse  Daudet.     Introduction  by  William  P,  Trent. 

V.     Guy  de  Maupassant.     Introduction  by  Arthur  Symons. 

VI.     Honor€  de  Balzac.     Introduction  by  F.  Bruneti^re. 


"  A  capital  idea  is  here  admirably  carried  out.  The  suprem- 
acy of  the  French  in  the  delicately  finished  short  story  is  undis- 
puted, and  the  six  authors  here  represented  are  the  finest  flowers 
of  this  development  of  French  literature.  The  little  volumes 
are  all  that  is  charming  in  outward  appearance,  are  literally  vol- 
umes for  the  pocket,  have  portraits  of  the  authors,  and  each  is 
introduced  by  a  competent  critic.  The  stories  themselves  are 
well  chosen  and  carefully  translated." — The  Outlook. 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

New  York  London 


j      By  ELIZABETH  W.  CHAMPNEY 


Romance  of  the  French  Abbeys 

Octavo.     With    2    Colored,    9    Photogravure, 
50  other  Illustrations,  and  Ornamental  Headpieces 

"A  _  delightful  blending  of  history,  art,  and  romance.  .  .  ,  Many  of 
the  stories  related  are  thrilling  and  none  the  less  exciting  because  they  belong 
to  history," — Chicago  Dial. 

Romance  of  the  Feudal  Chateaux 

Octavo.     With  40  Photogravure 
and  other  Illustrations 

"The  author  has  retold  the  legends  and  traditions  which  cluster  about 
the  chateaux  and  castles,  which  have  come  down  from  the  Middle  Ages, with 
the  skillful  touch  of  the  artist  and  the  grace  of  the  practiced  writer.  .  .  . 
The  story  of  France  takes  on  a  new  light  as  studied  in  connection  with  the 
architecture  of  these  fortified  homes." — Christian  Intelligencer. 

Romance  of 
the  Renaissance  Chateaux 

Octavo.     With  40  Photogravure 
and  other  Illustrations 

"The  romances  of  those  beautiful  chateaux  are  placed  by  the  author  on 
the  lips  of  the  people  who  lived  in  them.  She  gives  us  a  feeling  of  intimacy 
with  characters  whose  names  belong  to  history.   — M.  Y.  Mail  and  Expressi 

Romance  of 
the  Bourbon  Chateaux 

Octavo.     With  Colored  Frontispiece,  and 
47   Photogravure   and    other   Illustrations 

"Told  with  a  keen  eye  to  the  romantic  elements,  and  a  clear  understand- 
ing of  historical  significance." — Boston  Transcript. 

Romance  of  the  Italian  Villas 

Five  volumes.     Illustrated.     Each, 
in  a  boXy  net,  $3.00.  (By  mail,  $3.25) 


L. 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

NEW  YORK  LONDON 


DEC  7   t906