its easy conversation, and pleasant pastimes, was exactly suited to
the Monarch’s taste, and he was known to have said, in speaking of the
Duchess of Orleans, “qu’il connoissoit en la voyant de plus près, combien
il avoit été injuste, à la plus belle personne du monde.” The admiration
she excited, and the influence she obtained over her brother-in-law,
ended indeed, only with her life. Her small Court was brilliant, in the
extreme, and they amused themselves in divers ways. “Madame, montoit à
cheval, suivie de toutes ses dames, habillées galamment, avec mille
plumes sur leurs têtes, accompagnées du Roi, et de la jeunesse de la
Cour.” Monsieur lived a great deal in the Palais Royal, and there she
would go to sup with him, taking all her ladies, and chosen friends with
her. Mademoiselle de la Vallière was one of her Maids of Honour, and the
liaison with the King, began under Henrietta’s roof. She had been very
fond of the beautiful girl, but treated her with marked displeasure, in
the latter days.
Madame made a second journey to England, for the purpose of concluding
a private treaty, between her brother, and the French monarch, and of
detaching the former from his alliance with Holland. On this occasion,
she was accompanied by the celebrated Mademoiselle de la Quérouaille,
afterwards Duchess of Portsmouth, who had also her sealed orders. The
mission was successful, though neither advantageous, nor honourable,
as far as England was concerned. Madame returned in triumph, took up
her abode at the Palace of St. Cloud, and appeared to have reached the
zenith of worldly prosperity, always excepting the unhappy difference,
with her husband, which commenced so soon after their marriage, and had
increased rather than diminished. Her tried friend, and trusty confidant
in these trials, was Cosnac, Bishop of Valence, afterwards Archbishop of
Aix, a distinguished, but eccentric man. At twenty-four years of age, he
preached a sermon, which made such an impression on the mind, of Mazarin,
the Cardinal Minister, that on the conclusion of the service, he promised
the preacher a bishopric; what he called “faire un maréchal de France
sur la brêche.” Cosnac was afterwards appointed almoner to Monsieur, and
resided with him, for some time, during which period, he endeavoured to
gain an influence for good, over the mind of this fickle, and vacillating
Prince, and often expostulated with him, on his conduct to the Duchess.
They quarrelled, and separated, but his indignation against Monsieur’s
unworthy favourite, the Chevalier de Loraine, so enraged the Duke that
he contrived to procure a sentence of exile, against Cosnac. But absence
could not sever the bonds of friendship, which bound him to Henrietta,
and of which he gave a valuable proof, on the occasion of a libel, that
was published against her in Holland, at the time of her negociations
between England, and France. The Duchess dreaded lest the scurrilous
pamphlet, most damaging to her reputation, should fall into her husband’s
hands, and she wrote off in terror to her exiled friend, to ask his
assistance. Cosnac immediately despatched an emissary to Holland, who
did his work so effectually, that the whole edition was bought up, the
publication stopped, and all the extant copies brought over, to be
destroyed by this zealous friend. As in duty bound, “Madame” worked hard
to obtain the Bishop’s recall, so much so that the King thought her
attachment to him, must be of a more tender nature than she confessed.
Louis XIV., in all probability, was not a good judge of friendship, or a
believer in it, where a woman was concerned.
In her correspondence with Cosnac, in speaking of her mission to England,
she hints at the hope of Charles II. becoming a Roman Catholic, in the
event of which she promises that he shall obtain a Cardinal’s hat. On
her return from England, four days before her death, describing the
affectionate reception, she had met with from the French King, she says:
“Le Roi même à mon retour m’a témoigné beaucoup de bonté; mais pour
Monsieur rien n’est égal à son acharnement, pour trouver moyen de se
plaindre. Il me fit l’honneur de me dire, que je suis toute puissante,
et que par conséquent si je ne fais pas revenir le Chevalier de Loraine,
exilé par le Roi, je ne me soucie pas de lui plaire, et il fait ensuite
des menaces, pour le temps à venir.” To the same correspondent, she
complains that her little girl is brought up, to hate her. Three days
later, towards five o’clock in the afternoon, the Duchess of Orleans
asked for a glass of iced chicory water; a short time after drinking
which, she was seized with excruciating pain, and strong convulsions.
As her condition grew worse, it became evident to herself, and all
around her, that the end was approaching. Her confessor, Feuillet, was
sent for, and in his questions, and exhortations, he did not spare his
dying penitent, but both he, and Bossuet, who was also present, became
deeply affected, by the humble devotion, and pious resignation, to the
Divine Will, which the unhappy Princess, evinced in the midst of all her
sufferings. She was most anxious not to forget any one, and recalling
a promise she had made, some time ago to a friend, she called one of
her weeping attendants to her, and gave orders where she would find a
ring, and to whom it should be sent, as her parting gift. As the last
moment approached, she placed her hand in that of her husband, and gazing
earnestly in his face said most emphatically: “Monsieur, je ne vous ai
jamais manqué.” She thought of every one in her last moments, and closed
an adventurous, and chequered life, at the early age of twenty-six, at
peace, with all mankind, repentant, and trusting in the mercy of God.
That her death was the effect of poison, none could doubt: the question
arose, who was the murderer. The King sent for his brother, and charged
him with the crime, and a violent scene ensued between them; but the
real criminal appears to have been the exiled Chevalier de Loraine, and
evidence of the strongest nature was brought to show, that he sent the
poison from Rome by a Monsieur Morel (who was not in the secret) to the
Marquise d’Effiat, and a footman deposed, to seeing the Marquise rubbing
the inside of the cup, which was immediately afterwards given to Madame,
with the chicory water, when she complained of thirst. Be this as it may,
no sooner was she dead, than the Chevalier de Loraine was recalled from
exile, and the whole matter hushed up.
Cosnac’s description of Madame, was as follows: “Elle avoit l’esprit
solide, et du bon sens, l’âme grande, et fort éclairée, sur tout ce
qu’il faudroit faire, mais quelque-fois elle ne le faisoit pas, par une
faiblesse naturelle.... Elle mêlait dans toute sa conversation, une
douceur qu’on ne trouvoit point dans les autres personnes royales; ce
n’est pas qu’elle eût moins de majesté, mais elle en savoit user d’une
manière plus facile, et plus touchante. Pour les traits de son visage,
on n’en trouve point de plus achevés; les yeux vifs, sans être rudes,
la bouche admirable, le nez parfait (chose rare), le teint blanc et
uni, la taille médiocre mais fine: son esprit animait tout son corps;
elle en avoit jusqu’aux pieds; elle dansait mieux que femme au monde.”
She loved poetry and befriended poets: Corneille in his old age, and
Racine, whose heart she gained by shedding tears at the first reading of
his “Andromaque.” La Force said after her death: “Le goût des choses de
l’esprit avoit fort baissé. Il est certain qu’en perdant cette Princesse
la cour perdoit la seule personne de son sang, qui était capable d’aimer
et de distinguer le mérite, et il n’y a eu depuis sa mort, que jeu,
confusion, et impolitesse.”
_Charles V., Emperor of Germany_:
BY TIZIANO VECELLI.
THREE-QUARTER LENGTH.
(In Armour, Standing by a Table, on which is his Plumed Helmet.)
Born at Ghent, 1500. Died 1558.—The son of Philip, Archduke of Austria,
by Joan the Mad, heiress of Castile, and daughter of Ferdinand and
Isabella. Became King of Spain in 1516, and Emperor of Germany in
1519, on the death of Maximilian. Francis I., King of France, was his
competitor for the imperial dignity, and a war was the result, when the
French King was defeated, and made prisoner. But Charles’s whole life
was spent in warfare, until his abdication, and final seclusion from the
world, in the Convent of San Yuste, in Estremadura, where he died. He
married the daughter of the King of Portugal, by whom he had Philip II.
and two daughters.
_Prince Rupert_:
BY VANDYCK.
THREE-QUARTER LENGTH.
(Rich Dress of Murrey Coloured Satin, with Cuirass.)
Born, 1619. Died, 1682.—The fourth son of Frederic, Elector Palatine,
afterwards King of Bohemia, by Elizabeth, daughter of James I., King of
Great Britain. His birth at Prague was hailed with great joy, and his
baptism was an occasion of extraordinary pomp. He was an intelligent
and merry child, and as a youth, his elder brother writes home accounts
of his proficiency in study, and in athletic exercises, describing “our
Rupert,” as a species of Admirable Crichton. Both he, and his brother
Charles were educated at Leyden, and stood very high at the collegiate
examination, when their father, the unfortunate King of Bohemia,
travelled thither, and saw his boys for the last time. Rupert studied
war under Henry, Prince of Orange: at thirteen he was present at the
siege of Rhymberg; at eighteen he commanded a regiment of cavalry. After
her husband’s death, Elizabeth was advised to send her two elder sons
to colonise in distant countries; the elder in Madagascar, and Rupert
in the West Indies: but the high spirited Princess declared “no son of
hers, should become a knight errant.” Prince Rupert’s later career might
well have entitled him to the epithet, Elizabeth so much disapproved. He
distinguished himself in several campaigns, was made prisoner, and at
the termination of his captivity, accepted the invitation of his uncle,
Charles I., to repair to England.
The Queen of Bohemia had considered herself aggrieved, by the
unsatisfactory replies which her brother returned to her frequent
applications for sympathy and assistance, but on the arrival of Rupert
and his brother in England, the former was granted an English title,
installed as Knight of the Garter, and made Commander in Chief of
Cavalry. The Prince was zealous and loyal, and his courage undoubted; but
he laid himself open to just censure by his imprudence, and temerity.
Charles loved his nephew, but the blame which attached to his tactics in
the fatal battle of Naseby, was confirmed by the Prince’s feeble defence
of Bristol, for the safety of which place, he had pledged himself. The
King deprived him of his command, and wrote him so severe a letter,
that Rupert sought an audience of his royal uncle at Belvoir Castle,
indignantly denying the charge of treason imputed to him, but honestly
confessing his imprudence, and shortcomings. Pepys many years afterwards,
alludes to this incident when he says: “The Prince was the boldest
attaquer in the world, and yet in the defence of Bristol, no man ever
did worse, wanting in patience and a seasoned head, etc.” Pepys did not
love Rupert, who once rated him roundly, in the presence of the King,
Charles II. The same authority says on another occasion, that the nation
was displeased at Rupert’s obtaining a command, as he was accounted a
“most unhappy man.” His next adventure was especially so: Charles I.
sent him to Ireland, in charge of that portion of the fleet, which had
remained faithful to the royal cause, but his unlucky star was still in
the ascendant. He was compelled to seek safety at Lisbon, pursued by the
Parliamentary squadron, and after many losses, and disasters, he took
refuge in America, where he remained some years. Thence to France, where,
says, one of his biographers, “ses aventures romanesques, ses esclaves
Maures, son train bizarre, le firent un objet de curiosité et le héros de
plus d’une intrigue galante.” He returned to England on the restoration
of Charles II. “The Prince Rupert is come to Court,” says Pepys; “welcome
to nobody;” yet his great courage and the frequency of his exploits in
the war against Holland, when he was appointed to a command in the
fleet, first under the Duke of York, then conjointly with the Duke of
Albemarle, and finally in 1673, when he had the sole command, might well
have entitled him to the gratitude of the King and the nation.
The wear, and tear, of an adventurous life, the effects of a deep wound,
received in Flanders, determined Rupert at length, to retire from public
life, and seek the repose so necessary to him. He was made Governor
of Windsor Castle, and he found great resource in the cultivation of
arts, which had always occupied the few leisure hours he had hitherto
enjoyed; physics, chemistry, the improvement of fire-arms, etc. Horace
Walpole says: “It is a trite observation, that gunpowder was invented
by a monk, and printing by a soldier: and it is an additional honour
to the latter profession, to have invented mezzotinto;” upon which he
relates the following anecdote: Prince Rupert, when in Holland, was one
morning, attracted by seeing a sentinel rubbing the barrel of his musket,
vehemently. On approaching, and examining the gun, he found that the
damp of the early morning, had rusted the metal, and this, combined with
friction, had produced a kind of arabesque, or pattern on the metal,
like a friezed work eaten in with numerous little dots, part of which
the soldier was scraping away. This set the Prince thinking, how he
could produce a lasting effect of the same kind, and in combination with
his friend, Vaillant the painter, he invented a steel roller, cut with
tools to make teeth in the manner of a file, or rasp, with projecting
points which produced the black ground, and this being scraped away, or
diminished at pleasure, left the gradations of light.
Prince Rupert was never married, but he left two illegitimate children.
Grammont says: “Il étoit brave, et vaillant, jusqu’à la témérité. Il
avoit le génie fécond en expériences de mathématique, et quelque talent
pour la chimie. Poli jusqu’à l’excès, quand l’occasion ne le demandait
pas, fier, et même brutal quand il étoit question de se humaniser, son
visage étoit sec, et dur....” But Lely, and Vandyck paint more comely
portraits of the brave “Knight-errant.” He was a messmate of the Earl
of Sandwich, and it is no wonder the portraits of the two brave sailors,
should hang together in the Englishman’s ancestral home. Lely painted,
(as we are told by Pepys,) “all the Flaggmen; and in his studio I saw
the pictures of the Earl of Sandwich, Prince Rupert, etc.” But from his
account of the campaign at sea, he leads us to believe that both Rupert,
and the Duke of Albemarle, were jealous of the popularity, and fame which
Lord Sandwich has justly gained in England, through his prowess.
_Henrietta Maria, Queen of England_:
BY VANDYCK.
THREE-QUARTER LENGTH.
(White Satin Dress. Lace, Pearls. Standing by a Table, on which
the Crown is placed.)
Born, 1607. Died, 1669.—Daughter of Henry IV., King of France, by Marie
de Medicis. Attracted the notice of Charles, Prince of Wales, on his
route to Madrid, where he travelled in disguise, with the Duke of
Buckingham, to ask the hand of the Infanta of Spain. On the failure of
the negociations between France and Spain, Charles remembered the young
French Princess, and became her suitor. The marriage was concluded, under
circumstances which appeared to promise great prosperity; but alas, for
human foresight! the young Queen’s life was destined to be one prolonged
struggle, of sorrow, distress, and difficulty. She took refuge in France,
soon after the birth of her daughter Henrietta, and was there warmly
welcomed, and treated with liberality by the King; her constant pecuniary
difficulties being usually attributed to her generosity, to the English
Royalists.
When Charles I., took leave of the Princess Elizabeth, who had remained
in England, he sent his last farewell to the Queen, assuring her that
during the whole course of their union, he had never been unfaithful to
her, even in thought. In 1660, Charles II. having been proclaimed King
in London, his mother, accompanied by the Princess Henrietta, visited
him, ostensibly to offer her congratulations, but really to recover
part of her dowry, and also to prevent, if possible, the acknowledgement
of the private marriage of her son, the Duke of York, with Anne Hyde.
But her opposition to this marriage was overruled, from political, and
prudential motives. On her return to Paris, and after the union of her
daughter, with the Duke of Orleans, Queen Henrietta Maria, bought a house
at Colombes, where she lived a most retired life. “Elle étoit,” says
Madame de Motteville, “sans nulle façon.” In her frugal manner of life,
and the courage she displayed in danger, and vicissitude, this Princess
resembled her father, the great Henry. She was much disfigured by illness
and sorrow: “Elle avoit même la taille un peu gatée; sa beauté,” says
Madame de Motteville, “n’avoit duré que l’espace d’un matin, et l’avoit
quitté avant son midi; elle maintenoit que les femmes ne peuvent plus
être belles, passé vingt-deux ans. Elle avoit infiniment de l’esprit;
elle étoit agréable dans la société, honnête, douce, et facile; son
tempérament étoit tourné du côté de la gaieté.” Henrietta Maria died
suddenly at her house at Colombes, and was buried at St. Denis, but
she desired that her heart should rest in the Convent of Ste. Marie de
Chaillot, a Sisterhood, for whom she had much affection.
_Edward, first Earl of Sandwich_:
BY SIR PETER LELY.
(When Young. In a Brown Dress. Pointing to a Globe. Curtain in
Background.)
_MORNING ROOM._
_Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough_:
BY SIR GODFREY KNELLER.
HALF-LENGTH: OVAL.
(Light Coloured Dress. Blue Scarf.)
Born, 1658. Died, 1744.—The youngest daughter of Richard Jennings, Esq.,
of Sundridge, near St. Albans, by the daughter and heiress, of Sir
Gifford Thornhurst. She was presented when quite young at Court, where
her sister Frances, (afterwards Lady Tyrconnel) had already distinguished
herself by her laxity of conduct, as well as her beauty. Sarah’s features
may not have rivalled her sister’s in regularity, but her countenance was
full of expression, her complexion delicate, and the profusion of her
fair hair, formed a most attractive combination. She became the centre of
a host of adorers, amongst whom she preferred, in spite of his poverty,
“the young, handsome, graceful, insinuating, and eloquent Churchill.” On
his side, the young Colonel who, even in early days, had established a
character for avarice, was so enamoured of the portionless girl, as to
refuse a rich heiress with a plain face, who had been proposed to him.
But in her beauty, her ambition, her indomitable will, and the close
friendship which united her to the Princess (afterwards Queen) Anne, the
bride brought her husband, a dowry which made him “a Duke, a sovereign
Prince of the Empire, the Captain General of a great coalition, the
arbiter between mighty Princes, and the wealthiest subject in Europe.”
The friendship between Lady Churchill, and Anne, the tyranny which the
high-spirited, hot-tempered and wilful Lady of the Bedchamber, exercised
over her royal mistress, for many years, are matters too well known, to
be here recapitulated. The romantic friendship of Mrs. Morley, and Mrs.
Freeman, the manner in which Anne as Princess, and Queen, even after her
marriage to the Prince of Denmark, gave herself up to the dominion of
her favourite, until the self-imposed yoke became unbearable, and was
suddenly and completely discarded, are historical facts, bound up with
public events.
The Duchess of Marlborough was supplanted by her own _protégée_, Mrs.
Masham, and peremptorily dismissed, in spite of prayers, rages and
“scenes.” Voltaire says: “Quelques paires de gants qu’elle refusa à la
Reine, un verre d’eau qu’elle laissa tomber par une méprise! sur la
robe de Madame Masham, changèrent la face de l’Europe,” alluding to the
political changes, which ensued on the downfall of Sarah, Duchess of
Marlborough. In her latter days, her temper, embittered by these untoward
circumstances, became ungovernable; she quarrelled with her husband, her
son-in-law, her grandchildren, and gave way to the most violent outbursts
of passion. The Duke of Marlborough was a constant, and affectionate
husband, and it is related that on one occasion, when he strove to pacify
her rage by a compliment to the beauty of her luxuriant hair, she seized
the scissors, cut it off, and flung it in his face. When the Duke died,
the long fair tresses, were found carefully preserved in a drawer.
Sarah was a widow for twenty-two years; in spite of her age, perhaps
on account of her immense fortune, the Duke of Somerset, and Lord
Coningsby were both suitors, for her hand. To the latter, she replied,
after reminding him that she was sixty-three, “but were I only thirty,
and could you lay the world at my feet, I would never bestow on you, the
heart and hand, which belonged exclusively to John, Duke of Marlborough.”
_John, Second Duke of Montagu_:
BY PHILLIPS.
FULL-LENGTH.
(Right Hand on a Table, Left on the Back of a Chair, on which a
Greyhound is standing. Court Suit, Star, Garter, and Ribbon of
the Order.)