(_From the New Monthly Magazine_.)
We have much pleasure in inserting these very curious anecdotes of an
unfortunate Princess, though they come to us from one devoted to her
cause, as well as sympathizing with her misfortunes.
Few heroines of ancient days have displayed more courage, self-devotion,
and firmness, than has this high-souled and heroic woman. It is not
generally known in this country, that in an action in La Vendée, where
the partizans of the Duchess were opposed to the regular troops, she
headed her forces, and led the charges repeatedly. She had a horse shot
dead under her, and having been disarmed in the fall, seized the arms of
a fallen soldier next her, and again cheered on her followers. She was
eleven hours in action, and escaped unhurt, with the exception of some
contusions from the fall; and, when the battle was over, was seen
administering to the wants of those around her, dressing their wounds
with her own delicate hands; and whilst surrounded by the dead and
dying, she appeared wholly regardless of self, though overcome by a
fatigue and anxiety that few, even of the other sex, could have borne
so well.
On another occasion, the Duchesse de Berri had, with much difficulty,
procured a horse, and was mounted behind a faithful but humble adherent,
pursuing her route to a distant quarter, when her guide was accosted by
a peasant with whom he conversed some time in the patois of the country.
On quitting the peasant, he observed to the Duchess, that the man was
charged with a secret mission to a place at some distance, and was so
fatigued that he feared he could not reach it. She instantly sprang from
her seat, called after the peasant, and insisted on his taking the
horse, declaring that she could reach her destination on foot. After
walking for many hours, she arrived at a mountain stream that was
swollen by the recent rain, and having learned that her enemies were in
pursuit of her, she determined to cross it. Her guide, assisted by her,
fastened a large branch of a tree to his person, and, being an expert
swimmer, told her to hold by it, and that he hoped to get her over. They
had advanced to the deepest part of the stream when the bough broke, and
her guide gave her up for lost, when, to his surprise and joy, he saw
her boldly clearing the water by his side, and they soon reached the
bank in safety. During her visits to Dieppe, the Duchess had acquired a
proficiency in swimming, and it has since frequently saved her in the
hour of need. Overpowered by fatigue and hunger, and chilled by the cold
of her dripping garments, this courageous woman felt that her physical
powers were no longer capable of obeying her wishes, and that further
exertion was impossible. Seeing a house at a distance, she declared her
intention of throwing herself on the generosity of its owner, when her
guide warned her of the danger of such a proceeding, as the owner of the
house was a Liberal, and violently opposed to her party. All his
representations were made in vain. She boldly entered the house, and,
addressing the master of it, exclaimed--"You see before you the unhappy
mother of your king; proscribed and pursued, half dead with fatigue,
cold, wet, and hungry, you will not refuse her a morsel of your bread, a
corner at your fire, and a bed to rest her weary limbs on." The master
of the house threw himself at her feet, and, with tears streaming from
his eyes, declared that his house, and all that was his, were at her
service; and for some days, while the pursuit after her was the hottest,
she remained unsuspected in this asylum, the politics of the master
placing him out of suspicion; and when she left it, she was followed by
the tears and prayers of the whole of the family and their dependents.
This heroic woman, nurtured in courts, and accustomed to all the luxury
that such an exalted station as hers can give, has thought herself
fortunate, during many a night of the last year, when she could have the
shelter of the poorest hovel, with some brown bread and milk for food,
and has partaken, at the same humble board, the frugal repast of the
peasants who sheltered her. Her general attire has been the most common
dress, of a materiel called buse, made of worsted, and worn by the
poorest of the peasantry. A mantle of the same coarse stuff, with a
hood, completed her costume.
When one of the friends, who had seen her the pride and ornament of the
gilded saloons in the Tuileries, expressed his grief at the dreadful
hardships to which she was exposed, she pointed to a furze bush on the
heath where they were conversing, and said--"I shall sleep on that spot
to-night; and many nights I have had no better shelter than were
afforded by a few wild shrubs or trees, and I never slept better at
Rosny. If my mantle was long enough to allow of its covering my feet
when I slept, I should have nothing to complain of, but then it might
impede my flight, so I must be content."
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