Orange, with whom she had always been on the most loving terms, and did
not know what to make of the news that came to her about this time. It
was that the Dutch fleet was hovering off the coast of England, ready
at a moment's notice to make an attack. The queen could not believe
such horrible tidings, and wrote her daughter: "That it was reported
the Prince of Orange was coming over with an army, and that her highness
would accompany him; but she never would believe her capable of turning
against a good father, who, she believed, had always loved her the best
of all his children." It was, nevertheless, true, and the storm that
was to drive King James from the throne was gathering darkly and surely.
James had committed some grave mistakes as a ruler, as a politician, as
a theologian, and gladly would he have made amends, but it was too late.
The King of France offered assistance, but with all his faults James
loved his country too well to allow a foreign army to come to his
rescue. He preferred other measures, whereby he hoped and fondly
expected to avert the horrors of civil war. But his enemies were in his
very household, and treachery surrounded him on all sides. The men who
breakfasted with him in the morning, and pretended to be most loyal,
deserted him before night. When he ought to have gone in person to repel
the attacks of the Dutch fleet, he was persuaded by traitors to stay and
defend the metropolis. When at last he did go he was so ill, so broken
down, both in mind and body as to be utterly unfit for exertion of any
kind. His confidential councillors went over to the enemy, and as the
Prince of Orange advanced with his forces, James retreated towards
London, {288}paralyzed by the treachery that was daily brought to light.
But the most heartrending blow of all awaited him on his return to
the metropolis, for the first news he heard was that Princess Anne had
deserted him. "God help me!" he exclaimed, bursting into tears, "My own
children have forsaken me in my distress." When he entered the palace
he added in the bitterness of his grief, "Oh, if mine enemies only had
cursed me, I could have borne it!"
Now, the unfortunate king's anxiety was for the faithful wife who had
awaited his return in fear and trembling, and the innocent baby whose
life the fond father feared was in danger. The valiant James Stuart of
former years no longer existed; for he would not have submitted to the
advance of a foe without offering desperate resistance, nor would he
have abandoned his country at a moment when she needed his services.
The heart-broken King James summoned his council, asked their advice,
and appealed to their loyalty. They told him "he had no one to blame but
himself," but offered no comfort or assistance. Indignation at the base
treatment of those who ought to have stood by him in his adversity and
grief, at the thought of the strait to which his own bad management had
brought himself and his dear ones, had turned poor King James's mind;
he could no longer protect his realm, for he was not in a condition
to decide clearly on any subject. His entire attention was now turned
towards the only two beings who were left him in the world,--his wife
and baby; and those he was determined to save though he should forfeit
his own life.
It so happened that two Frenchmen, named Count de Lauzun and his friend
St. Victor, had become so interested in King James and the state
of affairs in England that they had offered their services to the
distressed sovereign. To these two gentlemen James resolved to intrust
the care of {289}his wife and child, and they eagerly consented to
undertake the dangerous task of conveying them to France. They met the
king and decided upon a plan so secretly that it was not suspected by
any one. St. Victor went to Gravesend and hired two yachts,--one in the
name of an Italian lady about to return to her own country, the other in
that of Count Lauzun.
December 9 was the day appointed for the queen to leave London. It was
Sunday, but some of the advanced troops of the prince's army, who had
dispersed in different parts of the city, began the day by burning
Catholic houses and chapels, and creating a tumult that terrified the
peaceful citizens, while tidings of other dreadful occurrences came from
all parts of the kingdom. When night approached the queen implored her
husband to allow her to remain and share his peril, but he assured
her that he would follow her within twenty-four hours, and that it was
necessary for the safety of their child that she should precede him. At
ten o'clock their majesties went to bed, and when all was dark and quiet
in the palace they got up and began preparations for departure. Shortly
after midnight St. Victor ascended a secret staircase to the king's
apartment. He was dressed like a common sailor, though he was well-armed
underneath his coarse attire, and brought a disguise for the queen. Lady
Strickland was in waiting that night, and assisted her majesty until two
o'clock, when all who were to share the journey met in the apartment
of Madame Labadie, where the prince had been carried secretly some time
before.
Turning to the count, King James said: "I confide my queen and son to
your care; all must be hazarded to convey them with the utmost speed
to France." Reserving a silence that was more eloquent than words, the
queen gave her husband a parting look, then crossed the grand hall,
{290}and stole softly down the back-stairs with St. Victor, who had
possessed himself of the keys. The two nurses followed close behind
with the sleeping infant. A coach that St. Victor had borrowed from an
Italian friend, without telling him to what use it was to be employed,
stood at the gate. The queen, Count de Lauzun, and the two nurses with
the baby entered, while St. Victor took his seat beside the coachman,
and Mary Beatrice left Whitehall never to return. The coach had to pass
six sentinels, who called out, "Who goes there?" Each time St. Victor
replied boldly, "A friend," and, showing the keys, was permitted to pass
without opposition. At Westminster the fugitives entered a boat in which
St. Victor had crossed on several previous nights with his gun and a
basket of cold provisions to make believe that he was a sportsman and
thus avoid suspicion. But this particular night was so stormy, and
the rain poured in such torrents, that the boatman must have known no
unimportant errand would tempt a woman with an infant six months old to
make so dangerous a trip, for the river had swollen, and the wind was
blowing violently. When the travellers reached the opposite bank, which
was at last accomplished after a great deal of difficulty, St. Victor
looked anxiously around for the carriage that ought to have stood in
waiting as he had arranged; but Monsieur Dusions, one of her majesty's
pages, appeared promptly at a call, and said that it was still at the
inn. St. Victor ran to fetch it, leaving De Lauzun to protect the queen,
who stood for shelter under the walls of the old church at Lambeth, with
her infant clasped close to her breast, dreading lest he should wake
and betray her presence by his cries. But the little prince behaved well
throughout the journey, happily unconscious of the danger to which he
was exposed. Meanwhile St. Victor, at the inn-yard had excited some
curiosity by his agitated manner, and his foreign {291}accent, which
prompted a man on watch to start out with his lantern to reconnoitre.
Seeing that he directed his steps straight to where the queen was
waiting, St. Victor hastened with all speed to the other side of the
way, and then put himself in the man's path as though by accident,
awkwardly pretended to be trying to clear the road, when the two came
in contact and went rolling over in the mud together. The Frenchman was
profuse in his apologies, which mollified the other man, who returned to
the inn to relight his lantern and wash off the mud. This gave the queen
and her party time to proceed, and before they had cleared three miles
they were met by one of her majesty's equerries, who, by the king's
thoughtfulness, had been sent with a fresh horse and a pair of boots for
St. Victor, of which he was sorely in need by that time. When the queen
reached Gravesend a little boat conveyed her to the yacht, that
was filled with friends who had preceded her from London, and were
determined to share her exile. Among them were Lord and Lady Powis,
Anna Montecuculi, who had gone to England with Mary Beatrice when she
married; Father Giverlai, the queen's confessor; William Walgrave, her
physician; Marquis Montecuculi, Lord and Lady O'Brien Clare, Mesdames
Labadie and Strickland, and two pages. These had gone down the Thames,
consequently had made the passage in less time than the royal party had
required.
The captain of the yacht had not the-slightest suspicion of the rank
of the Italian washerwoman, so anxiously awaited, who embarked with a
bundle of clothes under her arm, in which her little prince was safely
ensconced. The queen was always ill at sea, but heretofore she had been
provided with all the comforts her husband could devise, as well as the
pleasure of his presence. It was very different now, when not daring to
encounter the Dutch men-of-war, she was forced to cross the channel in
an ordinary {292}packet, deprived of common necessaries; for none of
the functionaries thought it necessary to pay attention to a poor
washerwoman.
As soon as she boarded the vessel the queen went below to avoid
observation, while Madame Labadie, who knew Grey, the captain, engaged
him in conversation until the sails were hoisted and the yacht well
under way. King James had ordered De Lauzun, in case the captain
discovered the fugitives or betrayed any intention to put his wife and
son into the hands of the Dutch, to shoot him dead. The count stationed
himself in a position to keep strict watch over every motion of the
captain's, determined to act promptly in case of need; but that officer
steered his course safely through a fleet of fifty Dutch ships, and
landed his passengers at Calais, as ignorant of the queen's presence as
when he left the English coast.
Sixteen years before Mary of Modena had embarked on a royal yacht
attended by her mother and a train of noblemen desirous of doing her
honor; now she landed at the same port, a forlorn fugitive, disguised
as a peasant, to seek refuge from the storm that had driven her from
a throne. It would be hard to decide at which period' she was more an
object of sympathy, if we recall the reluctance with which she left her
convent home to unite her destinies with those of a man whom she had
never seen, and behold her now, deprived of her regal state, it is true,
but possessing a husband who has won her heart, and a dear little baby,
who is her idol and his.
The governor of Calais wished to show Mary Beatrice the honors due a
queen of Great Britain, but she declined, and took up her residence at a
private house to await the arrival of her husband, whom she expected to
follow her in a few hours. But the governor sent everything to her
house that the queen needed for comfort, and fired a royal salute at
her departure. {293}Soon after landing at Calais, Mary Beatrice wrote
a pathetic letter to Louis XIV., asking his protection for herself and
son. He replied by sending his first equerry with the royal carriages
to attend the queen and her suite to Paris, and ordered that every honor
due her rank should be shown the royal lady _en route_.
The king did not join his wife as he had promised, and she could
receive no reliable intelligence as to his fate. Her heart was torn
with conflicting rumors, and she spent her days in tears at a convent at
Boulogne, to which place she had removed.
[[A.D. 1689.]] It was not until the nineteenth of January that the queen
knew the sad truth. Then she heard from the vice-admiral of England, who
had arrived at Calais, that the king had set out on his journey, when
he was arrested by order of the Prince of Orange and taken back under
strict guard. Overcome with despair, the queen decided to send her son
on to Paris, and return to London to share her husband's peril. But her
faithful attendants dissuaded her from a course that could only have
increased the king's trouble without rendering him the least service,
and urged her to be guided by the directions he had given her at
parting. That very day King Louis's equerry arrived with letters and
messages from his majesty and a noble escort to convey the queen, with
her attendants, to the Castle of St. Germain, which had been put in
readiness for their reception. So anxious were the faithful followers
of Mary Beatrice to remove her from the coast, where she might at any
moment be tempted by some favorable opportunity to return to England,
that they entreated her to accept the invitation of the King of France
at once.
She yielded, and left Boulogne the next day. On arriving at Montrieul a
report reached the royal party that King James was still at Whitehall.
{294}Now we must go back and see what really happened to James after
his wife's departure. He wandered about in a state of nervous agitation
until St. Victor returned from Gravesend with the announcement that the
queen had embarked safely, and he had seen the yacht well on her course.
Then his majesty brightened up, although there was not an hour but news
reached him of the advance of his enemy's troops. Having summoned his
council to meet at ten the next morning, the king went to bed as usual,
without any intention of being present.
At midnight he arose, disguised himself in a black wig, and shabby,
plain clothes, and attended by Sir Edward Hales, descended by a private
staircase to the garden and proceeded as the queen had done two nights
before. He crossed the Thames in a little row-boat to Vauxhall, and when
in the middle of the river threw in the great seal that he had taken
from Whitehall. This is an unaccountable proceeding, because he
evidently meant to make use of the seal after he got to France, and
he must have changed his mind very suddenly. On arriving at Fever-sham
after travelling all night, Sir Edward Hales sent his servant to the
post-office, and as his residence was in that neighborhood, his livery
was immediately known. A gang of ruffians who had formed themselves
into an association to prevent the flight of Roman Catholics to France,
dogged the man's footsteps to the river side, where they discovered that
Sir Edward had taken refuge on a custom-house boat. At eleven o'clock
that night fifty of the gang, armed with swords and pistols, boarded
the boat, rushed into the cabin? seized the king and his companion.
Perceiving that his majesty was not recognized, Sir Edward took Ames,
the leader of the ruffians aside, put fifty guineas in his hand and
promised a hundred more if he would allow them to escape. The man took
the money and said he would go {295}ashore to make arrangements for
them, but advised them to hand over all their valuables to his keeping,
because he could not answer for the conduct of his men while he was
gone. The king gave him three hundred guineas and his watch, but
contrived to conceal his coronation ring and three diamond pins that
belonged to the queen. As soon as the tide rose in the morning the gang,
who had mistaken James for Father Petre, rowed the boat to shore, and
putting their two prisoners in a carriage, drove them to an inn amidst
the shouts and yells of a mob that had assembled there. Suddenly a
seaman in the crowd who had served under James recognized him, and
bursting out into tears, knelt and begged to kiss his hand. The king was
touched at this proof of devotion and wept, while the ruffians who had
robbed and insulted him fell on their knees and sued for pardon. Then
returning his majesty's sword and jewels, the seamen who were present
declared "that not a hair of his head should be touched." Even then, had
the king been in a proper state of mind, something might have been done
for his cause, surrounded as he was at that instant by a band of loyal
subjects; but he was mentally exhausted, and he began to talk in a wild,
incoherent manner, until an alarming fit of nose-bleed left him in a
helpless condition. For two whole days nobody in London knew of King
James's whereabouts, until a Kentish peasant presented himself at the
council chamber with a letter from his, majesty, stating his condition
and demanding assistance. Some of the lords were for treating the
letter with silent contempt, but they were overruled, and an escort was
despatched to bring his majesty back to Whitehall. He was received with
every demonstration of loyalty, and might have raised a powerful army to
repel his foes, but his day had gone by; he could only weep and bemoan
his sad fate, constantly repeating: "God help me, whom can I trust? My
own children have forsaken me!" {296}The king had been in London less
than a week when he was rudely awakened at two o'clock one cold, stormy
morning by three lords, who had openly avowed themselves his enemies.
They came with an order from the Prince of Orange for him to leave
Whitehall before ten o'clock and proceed to Rochester. He made the
journey attended by a Dutch guard, who had orders from their prince to
give their prisoner a chance to escape.
Accordingly the back door of the house at Rochester was purposely left
unguarded, and between twelve and one on the morning of December 23, the
king attended by two faithful companions, made his way to the river and
was rowed down to Sheerness, where, boarding a fishing-boat, he was
landed on Christmas day at a village near Boulogne.
The queen was at Beauvais when she heard of her husband's arrival on
French soil, and forgetting all her misfortunes in this welcome news she
raised her eyes to Heaven and exclaimed: "Then I am happy," and prayed
aloud in the fulness of her heart.
It was on the twenty-eighth of December that Mary Beatrice approached
St. Germain. King Louis XIV. had advanced with his son and brother to a
village at the foot of the hill on which stood the castle to await his
royal guests. His cavalcade consisted of a hundred coaches, and all the
noble ladies and gentlemen who attended him were dressed in magnificent
attire. When the queen drew near with her party, Louis left his coach
and went forward to greet her. His officers stopped the first carriage,
supposing it to contain her majesty, but the occupants proved to be the
little prince with his governess and his nurses. All alighted out of
respect to the king, who took the baby in his arms, hugged and kissed
him tenderly, and promised to cherish and protect the unconscious child.
{297}
[Illustration: 0303]
{299}Meanwhile Mary Beatrice had left her carriage and walked towards
his majesty, who saluted her affectionately. After a great many
complimentary speeches on both sides, the king presented the dauphin,
as his son was styled, and monsieur his brother, then the four royal
personages got into his majesty's coach and were driven to the Palace
of St. Germain, which was to be the future home of Mary Beatrice. They
alighted at the inner court, where, after placing everything at
the queen's command, Louis led her to the apartments that had been
newly-fitted up for the Prince of Wales. Such an affectionate welcome
brought tears to the eyes of Mary Beatrice, who began to feel that she
now needed nothing but the arrival of her beloved husband to fill her
heart with peace.
St. Germain Palace had been gorgeously fitted up for Queen Mary
Beatrice, and contained every article of luxury that she could possibly
desire. On her toilet table stood a casket of exquisite workmanship, of
which Tourolle, the king's upholsterer presented her the key with rather
a significent air. This she observed; but her mind was so occupied that
she did not remember to open the casket until the next day, when she
beheld six thousand bright, shining louis d'ors which the generous King
Louis had placed there for her use.
In the morning Louis and the dauphin sent to make inquiries about
their guests, and at six in the evening they paid her majesty a visit,
attended by Monsieur and the Duc de Chartres. She was in bed, feeling
ill from the anxiety and fatigue she had undergone, but that did not
prevent her receiving the royal guests. Queens were not allowed any
privacy in those days, sick or well, and her majesty's chamber was soon
crowded with the courtiers who had followed their sovereign, while he
and the dauphin sat on the bed and chatted quite merrily. In about half
an hour King {300}James's arrival was announced, and Louis went out to
meet him. James bowed low as his kinsman advanced, but Louis took him
in his arms and embraced him warmly three our four times. Then the two
kings conversed in a low tone for fifteen minutes, after which monsieur
and the dauphin were presented to James, who was then conducted to his
wife's room. As they entered, Louis said, playfully: "Madame, I bring a
gentleman of your acquaintance, whom you will be very glad to see." The
queen uttered a cry of joy, and the royal couple surprised the French
courtiers by hugging and kissing each other right before them all. James
was then led to the royal nursery, where it gladdened his heart to see
the comforts that surrounded his darling boy. Louis was scrupulously
mindful of every act of courtesy towards his unfortunate kinsman, and
sent him a present of ten thousand pounds in such a delicate manner as
not to wound his pride.
St. Germain was familiar to King James, for it was there that he lived
with his mother and the royal family of France during the troublous
times that preceded his father's death. After a lapse of twenty-eight
years he returned, again a fugitive, the last survivor of those who had
shared his first adversity. Mother, brothers, sisters, all were dead,
his two daughters had deserted him; the son of his best beloved sister,
who had become his son-in-law, had driven him from his throne, and his
wife and little son were deprived of their rights because of his fall.
An appalling list of calamities; yet James bore them with a calmness
that astonished his French friends. Both he and his wife felt their
dependence, and desired to live as much in private as possible; but it
was not permitted. The court of St. Germain was formed on the model
of King Louis's, but the French officers were soon replaced by those
members of the queen's household who followed her, though their
{301}property was confiscated and they forfeited the rights of
citizenship by so doing. Mary Beatrice's old coachman, who had formerly
served Oliver Cromwell, followed his royal mistress to St. Germain, and
continued to drive her state coach until he died of old age.
[[A.D. 1689.]] At first the etiquette of the French court was very
irksome to Mary Beatrice, for it was much more formidable than in
England, and she would have made many mistakes had she not had the good
sense to refer all matters of precedency to Louis XIV. himself, and in
every case to abide by his decision. The wife of the dauphin refused to
call because the size and position of the chair she was to occupy in the
presence of the Queen of England was not according to her fancy, so Mary
Beatrice waived ceremony and made the first call, and in course of time
it was arranged who was to sit, who was to stand, which noble lady or
gentleman was to be placed to the right or the left of one of the royal
personages, who was to go first, the size, shape, and height of the
chair, besides many other matters that appear trivial to us; then all
went smoothly. Mary Beatrice became the fashion; Louis XIV., the _Grande
Monarque_, had held her up as a model for his daughter-inlaw, and said:
"See what a queen should be," and that was enough to bring the whole
court to her feet. Every one admired her ready wit, her grace, her
beauty, but above all, her charming manners and her devotion to her
husband. One day when King Louis was caressing her baby she said: "I had
envied the happiness of my son in being unconscious of his misfortunes,
but now I regret the unconsciousness which prevents him from being
sensible of your majesty's goodness to him."
The exiled king and queen were invited to St. Cyr to witness a new
tragedy by Racine, and Mary Beatrice sat between her husband and Louis
XIV. during the performance. {302}Next day Louis entertained them at
his palace at the Trianon, where the two kings had a long private
conference, while the queen played cards with some ladies and gentlemen.
Meanwhile affairs in England were going badly for the royal cause, and
on the sixth of February a very small majority in parliament decided
that the Prince and Princess of Orange should be proclaimed king and
queen.
James was still undisputed King of Ireland, and his subjects there urged
him to visit their country; so, with a force consisting of a hundred
noble French gentlemen, Lauzun being of the number, besides twenty-five
hundred English and Scotch emigrants, he decided to go. King Louis
supplied him with vessels and money, and offered troops, but James
replied: "I will recover my own dominions with my own subjects or perish
in the attempt." After his departure the queen left St. Germain and went
with her little son to the convent of Poissy, intending to pass her time
in prayers for the safety of her lord. From Poissy she went for awhile
to the convent of Chaillot, several of the nuns of that community being
among her best friends.
[[A.D. 1690.]] King James was received with joy in Ireland, where his
viceroy, Tyrconnel, met him with an army of forty thousand men, but they
were composed of half-clad peasants, who were willing to fight, but had
neither arms nor military discipline. With such forces little could be
expected, and though the king met with a few trifling victories at first
he really gained nothing. Mary Beatrice pawned or sold her jewels to
keep him supplied with more money than she could manage to borrow from
the French government, but all to no avail; one defeat came close upon
the heels of another, until the battle of the Boyne convinced James that
his cause was hopeless.
Fortunately the queen had not heard of this dreadful
{303}
[Illustration: 0309]
{305}defeat until news reached her that her husband was safe in France,
and all misfortunes sank into insignificance compared with the anxiety
she had suffered on his account. In October the royal pair were invited
to Fontainebleau, one of King Louis's most splendid palaces, to spend
a few days, during which they were entertained with most generous
magnificence. King Louis always sat at the queen's left hand, and
showed her marked attention on every occasion. When it rained the guests
remained indoors, and played a game of cards called loo in England,
_paume_ in France, that had been introduced by the Dutch. They were
treated to a stag roast in the park by moonlight, and enjoyed seeing
the animal that had been killed by the two kings in the morning roasted
whole in the evening.
[[A.D. 1691.]] During all this time Mary Beatrice was in correspondence
with a great many people in England, who were most anxious for King
James's restoration, and never consented to an allegiance to William
and Mary. Dryden was one of these; he was Poet Laureate during James's
reign, and one of the queen's numerous admirers.
[[A.D. 1692.]] Assisted by King Louis XIV., James made another effort to
regain his crown, but was defeated. The little prince was at that time a
handsome bright boy, four years of age, and before the king departed on
the expedition which terminated so disastrously he made his son a Knight
of the Garter.
King James became very despondent when his bad luck continued, and
wrote Louis XIV.: "My evil star has had an influence on the arms of
your majesty, always victorious but when fighting for me. I entreat you,
therefore, to interest yourself no more for a prince so unfortunate, but
permit me to withdraw with my family to some corner of the world where
I may cease to be an interruption to your majesty's wonted course of
prosperity and glory."
{306}In the summer Queen Mary Beatrice had a daughter, and the king was
so pleased when he beheld the child that he called it "his comforter,"
and said: "He had now one daughter who had never sinned against him."
The princess was baptized with great pomp at St. Germain, and King Louis
XIV., who acted as sponsor, gave her the name of Louisa Mary.
Mary Beatrice was now the mother of two fine healthy children, and both
she and the king were happier than they had been in many a day.
Every year Mrs. Penn, the wife of the founder of Pennsylvania, paid
a visit to the queen at St. Germain, and always brought a great many
presents from friends in England to the royal exiles.
[[A.D. 1695.]] At the beginning of the next year very important news was
brought to St. Germain. It was of the death of Mary II., then Queen of
England. It was naturally believed that after such an event the Princess
Anne would assert her claim to the throne; but she was too shrewd to
risk anything by an open rupture with King William, whose health was so
bad that she decided to await the natural course of events. Meanwhile,
she played a twofold game by her friendliness towards the king, while
she kept up a secret correspondence with her father.
[[A.D. 1696.]] The partisans of James urged him to make an attack on
England after the death of Mary II., assuring him that a force of only
ten thousand men would be sufficient to reinstate him on the throne; but
he appeared strangely indifferent about that time, and could obtain no
assistance from the French court. The next year, however, Louis XIV.
did grant the required assistance; but so many circumstances prevailed
against poor James that he was again unsuccessful, and returned to St.
Germain. With a mistaken zeal for his cause, some of James's adherents
had {307}made an attack on the person of King William, which did no
benefit to the exiled king, and caused the execution of many in England.
King James was so poor that the allowance made him by King Louis was not
large enough to enable him to pay the pensions of those who had lost
all their worldly possessions because of their loyalty to him, so he
was obliged from time to time to sell the queen's jewels. Mary Beatrice
wrote on this subject to her friend, the Abbess of Chaillot: "In respect
to our poor, I shall never consider that I have done my duty until
I have given them all I have." By degrees she parted with all her
valuables for the relief of her unfortunate British followers.
[[A.D. 1697.]] In course of time circumstances compelled King Louis XIV.
to acknowledge William as King of England; but in so doing he stipulated
that Mary Beatrice should receive her dower regularly. Then the queen
arranged that every payment should be made through the French king, to
whom she owed so much; but she need not have troubled herself on that
score, for although William charged the British nation with fifty
thousand pounds annually for Mary Beatrice, he pocketed the entire
amount and appropriated it to his own use. The excuse he gave was that
King James and his wife were permitted to remain at St. Germain, though
he had peremptorily demanded their removal from France.
[[A.D. 1701.]] King James's health had been poor for several months, and
the queen had felt much anxiety on his account, though he did not grow
perceptibly worse. One Sunday he had an epileptic fit, which came on in
church. He was carried out in a state of insensibility, and continued
ill for several weeks, during which the queen remained constantly at
his bedside, attending to his wants and watching every symptom as only
a devoted wife can. {308}Later, the king was removed to the baths of
Bourbon, and Louis XIV. sent Fagon, his chief physician, to attend him,
and paid all the expenses of the journey for the entire party. James
improved so much that in less than three months he returned to St.
Germain, in time for the celebration of the birthday fêtes of his
children, both of which occurred in the month of June. The prince was
fourteen at that time, and the princess was ten years of age.
[Illustration: 0314]
But King James was not long to enjoy the society of his family, for the
return of his illness laid him on his deathbed before many months. The
French council held a meeting to decide upon the English succession when
James's death should occur, and the dauphin was one of the majority
who decided in favor of the Prince of Wales. It was Louis himself who
conveyed the satisfactory intelligence to {309}the dying king. As he
entered the bedroom one of the attendants aroused the invalid, who had
been in a drowsy stupor all day, and announced the presence of the King
of France. "Where is he?" asked James, with a painful effort.
"Sir, I am here," replied Louis; "and am come to see how you do."
"I am going to pay that debt which must be paid by all kings as well as
their meanest subjects," returned James, slowly. "I give your majesty
thanks for all your kindness to me and my afflicted family, and do not
doubt its continuance, having always found you good and generous."
Louis then informed the king that he had something of the greatest
importance to communicate, whereupon the attendants began to withdraw;
but Louis exclaimed, "Let no one retire!" Then turning to James again,
he continued: "I am come, sir, to acquaint you that whenever it shall
please God to call your majesty out of this world, I will take your
family under my protection, and will recognize your son, the Prince of
Wales, as heir of your three realms." At these words, all present,
both English and French, threw themselves at the feet of the powerful
sovereign, who mingled his tears with those that were shed around him.
The dying king extended his arms to embrace his royal friend, and said:
"Thank God, I die with perfect resignation, and forgive all the world."
He then begged as a last favor that there might be no pomp at his
funeral ceremonies. "That is the only favor I cannot grant," replied
Louis. James begged that any money King Louis might feel disposed
to spend for that purpose should be employed for the relief of his
followers, whom he commended to that monarch's care.
The queen was so grieved that she was often obliged to {310}hide herself
so that her husband might not witness her tears. His bed was situated in
an alcove, and she would spend hours on the other side of the curtains,
anxiously waiting for any sound from the dying king. While Louis XIV.
was communicating his comforting news, Mary Beatrice sent for her son
and bade him throw himself at the feet of the kind-hearted monarch, and
express his gratitude. Louis raised the boy and embraced him tenderly;
then leading him into an adjoining room, conversed with him a long
while, gave him some excellent advice, and promised to act the part of a
father towards him.
King James had already taken leave of his children, but they were
permitted to see him several times before he died; and he always smiled
lovingly, even though he could not speak to them. The day before he
expired King James bade farewell to the queen, and requested her
to write to his daughter, the Princess Anne, and assure her of his
forgiveness; also to charge her to atone to her brother for the injury
she had done him. Then he gave some advice about the prince; and when
Mary Beatrice was overcome with emotion, he asked tenderly: "Why is
this? Are you not flesh of my flesh, and bone of my bone--are you not
a part of myself? How is it, then, that one part of me should feel so
differently from the other? I in joy and you in despair. My joy is
in the hope I feel that God in his mercy will forgive me my sins and
receive me into his beatitude, and you are afflicted at it. I have long
sighed for this happy moment, and you know it well: cease, then, to
lament for me. I will pray for you,--farewell!"
This was the last interview the queen had with her husband, for he sank
into a state of unconsciousness, and died the next afternoon at three
o'clock. It was Father Ruga, the queen's confessor, who informed her
when all was over. Although the blow was expected, it was hard to bear;
for {311}Mary Beatrice had hoped to the last that her husband might
still be spared to her. Her resignation to the will of God was perfect;
but her sorrow was heartfelt and bitter.
Crowds of French and English of all degrees passed in and out to take
a last look at the dead king, who had requested that his chamber door
might be left open for that purpose. Then all the courtiers went to the
prince and saluted him as king, and at the same time he was proclaimed
at the gates of St. Germain by the title of James III., King of England,
Scotland, Ireland, and France.
Court etiquette required that the queen also should offer the homage of
a subject to her boy. She said to him: "Sir, I acknowledge you for my
king; but I hope you will not forget that you are my son." She was so
overcome by this ceremony that she retired at once, and was driven to
the convent of Chaillot, where she desired to pass the first days of her
widowhood in complete solitude, refusing to see any one whatsoever.
The chapel had all been hung in black by the nuns as soon as the king's
death was announced, and when the tolling of the bell warned them of
Mary Beatrice's approach, they went in procession to receive her at the
convent gate. She descended from her coach in silence, followed by
four noble ladies who had accompanied her. The nuns gathered around her
without speaking, the abbess kissed the hem of her robe, some of the
sisters embraced her knees, and others respectfully pressed their lips
to her hand, but no one ventured to offer a word of comfort.
The queen passed straight into the chapel; she was bowed down with
grief, though she did not shed a tear. That time was passed, and she
seemed stupefied. One of the nuns approached and asked in the words of
the psalmist, "My soul, will you not be subject to God?" {312}"His
will be done," replied the queen, in a tremulous voice. Prostrating
herself before the altar, she remained long in prayer. At last the
nuns begged her to eat, for she had partaken of no food since the night
before, and they feared she would faint. She was led to her bedroom,
but insisted on hearing more prayers, and complained that she could not
weep, saying "that even that solace was denied her."
Her attendants were sent to bed, but two of the nuns passed the night
with the queen, who moaned and sighed and prayed by turns with scarcely
a moment's repose. The next night the king's heart was conveyed to
Chaillot and placed near that of his mother; but by King Louis's order
it was received so quietly that Mary Beatrice was not excited by it.
However, a few hours later she assured the abbess that she felt it was
near her, and spoke a great deal about her dead husband. Among other
things, she said: "That he had felt his humiliation, and above all the
injustice he had experienced, very keenly; but that the love of God had
changed all his calamities into blessings."
Mary Beatrice would have liked to pass the rest of her days at Chaillot,
but she had other duties to perform and many more years to live.
In his will King James had directed that he should be buried with his
ancestors at Westminster Abbey; therefore the queen ordered that the
funeral service should be performed in France, but that the body should
remain unburied until the restoration of her son, which she fondly hoped
would soon take place.
It was therefore at the chapel of the Benedictine Monks that the corpse
of King James remained covered with the pall for many years, until all
hope for the Stuart family had vanished forever.
The queen remained at Chaillot only four days, for her {313}children
needed her at St. Germain, and she returned to them on the nineteenth of
September.
The next day King Louis called on her, and she received him in a
darkened room hung with black. He tried very hard to console the widowed
queen by kind offers of protection to her and her son, and insisted upon
her receiving the same courtesy from his ministers as though she had
been queen regent really and not only in name.
[[A.D. 1702.]] However King James's will had given her that title,
and her first steps was to publish a manifesto in the name of her son,
setting forth his claim to the crown of Great Britain. It made little
impression in England, but those who were opposed to King William in
Scotland were anxious to bring the young king forward. So Lord Belhaven
was sent to consult the queen as to what was best to do, and told her
that if only her young son would declare himself a Protestant he should
be proclaimed King of Scotland without waiting either for the death of
William or the consent of parliament. Her majesty replied: "That she
would never be the means of persuading her son to barter his hopes of
Heaven for a crown." Then Lord Belhaven was willing to compromise, and
said, "That if the prince would not change his religion, would he not
agree that only a limited number of Romish priest, should enter his
kingdom, and that he would make no attempt to alter the established
religion?" This the queen freely promised in the name of her son, and
then the lord declared that he and his party would do all in their power
to establish King James's heir on the throne.
Mary Beatrice would have resigned herself to fate if she had not felt
convinced that her son's rights were denied him so long as any Stuart
claimed the crown. At the time of the prince's birth, parliament had
decided that he should succeed his father, James II., and a new interest
was {314}awakened in him on account of the sympathy felt in England
for him and his widowed mother. Alarmed that such would be the state of
affairs, William hired a notorious fellow to prove that the Prince of
Wales was not the son of James II. and Mary Beatrice at all, but that
one Mrs. Mary Grey was his real mother, who had been murdered in Paris
shortly after his birth. A copy of the book containing a full account of
this matter was presented to the lords, the ministers of state, and the
lord mayor. Of course this statement was utterly false and absurd, and
raised the indignation of the House of Commons to such a degree that
Fuller, the man who got out the book, underwent the disgrace of the
pillory. But as he had often been employed by William III. as a spy and
had been punished more than once for perjury, he did not sink under the
disgrace as an honest man would have done.
As soon as the news of King James's death reached William III. he was
prepared with a blow to aim at his orphan cousin that he was determined
should not fail if he could help it. It was an accusation of high
treason, in which Mary Beatrice was also included. The bill, as William
presented it to his parliament, did not designate his uncle's widow as
the queen dowager, because he had pocketed her dower, and he desired to
deprive her even of the honors due a royal lady. So she is called "Mary,
late wife of the late King James."
Without describing all the scenes enacted in parliament while this
disgraceful bill was under consideration, it is only necessary for us to
know that it passed the House of Lords; but when it was laid before the
Commons, they pitched it under the table.
The very last act of William III. was to affix the royal seal to the
bill that he had exerted every means to have executed against the young
Prince of Wales. He was on {315}his death-bed when it was presented for
his signature, but controlled his almost paralyzed fingers enough for
the accomplishment of this last act of hatred.
He expired the next day.
Mary Beatrice was so ill when this event occurred that no one ventured
to speak of it in her presence. Her life hung on a thread for many days
and depended for its continuance on absolute repose. Therefore she could
take no steps towards claiming the crown of England for her son at the
proper moment; and by the time she was convalescent her step-daughter
Anne was peacefully settled on the throne, and all hope for the young
prince vanished forever. But Simon Fraser, generally called Lord Lovat,
had proclaimed the prince King of Scotland, in the county of Inverness
as soon as the death of William III. was known there. When Mary Beatrice
was well enough to attend to business, this man presented himself at St.
Germain as the representative of a large party in his native land, and
urged the queen-mother to send her son to Scotland to fight for his
rights. He said that an army of twelve thousand men could easily be
raised in the Highlands, provided the King of France would assist with
arms and money, and that the Scottish people would spare no efforts
if they could only see the prince for whom they were to fight in their
midst. But Mary Beatrice considered her boy too young to undertake such
a perilous enterprise; and the very thought of the fate that awaited him,
should he fall into the hands of his enemies, caused her to refuse to
let him leave her. Ambition was not the leading trait of the fallen
queen.
[[A.D. 1703.]] In the autumn Lord Lovat applied to Mary Beatrice again,
and represented affairs in Scotland and Ireland as so favorable to the
interest of the prince that she was thoroughly deceived, and without
consulting any of her {316}friends, sold all the jewels she had left,
and gave the money to this treacherous creature. It was afterwards
proved that Lovat was the bribed instrument of Queen Anne's cabinet, by
whom all his expenses had been paid, while he pretended to be serving
the Prince of Wales. He did a great deal of mischief, but like many
knaves, bribed and intrigued until he overstepped the mark, and was
arrested the next time he appeared in France. He was shut up at the
Castle of Angoulême, where he was kept a close prisoner for several
years.
[[A.D. 1704.]] In August Mary Beatrice attended a grand fête at Marli,
given by Louis XIV. to celebrate the birth of a great-grandson. The
King and Princess Louisa were present also, and were given the places of
honor after their mother, who always sat at the right hand of Louis XIV.
Poor Mary Beatrice had little heart for festivities of any sort, for she
was suffering from an incurable malady which often compelled her to keep
her bed for several days at a time, and her son's health was so delicate
as to render him a constant source of anxiety to her. He was just
seventeen years of age, and the Princess Louisa was thirteen. The latter
had inherited all her mother's grace and beauty, and was considered
quite an ornament at the French court.
[[A.D. 1705.]] The young king opened a ball at Marli with his sister,
and all the time they were dancing the King of France stood as a mark
of respect. He would have done the same every time had not the
queen-mother, who sat at his side, persuaded him to sit down.
At all the festivals Mary Beatrice was placed between Louis XIV. and her
son, while Princess Louisa and the immediate members of the French royal
family occupied seats at the same table. But King Louis was not willing
to risk more money or men in an attempt to raise an insurrection
{317}against Queen Anne's government in Scotland. Even had he consented
to do so, his ministers would have opposed it. All this time Godolphin,
who in former days had felt so proud at being permitted to hand the
queen to her chair in the royal chapel, was in secret correspondence
with Mary Beatrice, and constantly flattered her with false hopes. If he
had possessed sufficient courage to make a demand of Queen Anne and her
cabinet for the payment of the royal widow's dower and all the money
due her that William III. had appropriated to his own use, no doubt the
claim would have been allowed. But fear lest certain crooked acts of his
life might be disclosed rendered him irresolute and anxious to publicly
maintain a neutral ground.
[[A.D. 1706.]] When the young king completed his eighteenth year he was
treated by every one at the court of St. Germain as their sovereign,
though the queen-mother was really the leader there as long as she
lived. At this period young James began to take some share in state
affairs, and showed no ordinary ability. He was a great favorite with
King Louis, who made frequent visits, both public and private at
St. Germain, and invited the exiles to every fête he gave at Marli,
Versailles, and Trianon.
[[A.D. 1707.]] Notwithstanding all her cares, ill health, and
disappointment, Mary Beatrice lived very pleasantly at St. Germain,
where on fine summer afternoons she would walk with Louis XIV. in the
park, attended by the whole court. It was on such occasions that the
queen-mother would ask any favor that she might require at the hands
of the monarch, and she was seldom refused. It gratified her to see
the enjoyment her children derived from the parties of pleasure
they frequently formed for the purpose of gathering flowers and wild
strawberries in the neighboring forests, {318}or of rowing on the Seine
to Pontalie. It was at that place that the Countess de Grammont lived
in a rural château. She was a wealthy lady, who had once been one of the
celebrated beauties at the court of Charles II., and now felt pleased
to contribute to the happiness of the exiled Stuarts, instead of turning
her back on them as many had done. She had known the young king and his
sister from infancy, and when they made excursions with their court to
her house nothing gave her greater pleasure than to provide banquets and
entertainments of every description for them.
[[A.D. 1708.]] The Grande Monarque suddenly changed his mind in the
spring, and determined to fit out a fleet, headed by the young king, for
the purpose of making a descent on the coast of Scotland. Not a word was
said about this matter until all the arrangements were completed; but as
soon as the exiled king was informed of the project, he took hasty
leave of his mother and sister and set out for Dunkirk, the place of
embarkation, ordering his luggage to be sent after him. No sooner had
he reached the coast than he was attacked by measles, which detained
him several days. Becoming impatient of delay, he was at last carried
on board one of the vessels of his fleet; but not before the English had
been warned of his approach, and were on the lookout for him.
Sir George Byng commanded the English fleet, and it is said that he
captured the "Salisbury," with the prince on board; but this is not
positively known. If he did, he saved Queen Anne a great deal of
perplexity by permitting his royal prisoner to sail out of the Frith of
Forth, where he encountered the French fleet, and return to France, for
her majesty certainly would not have known what to do with him.
The prince returned to St. Germain, but several persons
{319}
[Illustration: 0325]
{321}of high rank were captured and sent to the Tower to await their
trial for treason. Mary Beatrice wrote to the French minister, begging
him to do what he could for the prisoners, by representing them as
officers in the service of King Louis. But meanwhile Queen Anne's
cabinet set a price on the head of "the pretended Prince of Wales," as
they designated the young man. Queen Anne herself went further, and gave
him the title of "the Pretender" in her address to parliament, knowing
that such a name would do more to injure his claim to the throne than
anything else.
Shortly after his return from his unsuccessful attempt to invade
Scotland, the young prince entered the French army, and served in the
Low Countries as a volunteer, under the command of the Duke de Vendôme,
who esteemed him very highly. As he had not the means to equip a camp in
accordance with his rank, the prince called himself the Chevalier de St.
George, that being the order with which his royal father had invested
him when he was only four years old.
[[A.D. 1709.]] The French met with dreadful defeat at Malplaquet. The
Chevalier de St. George fought manfully, and made twelve charges at the
head of the French troops, under a continuous fire of six hours from the
British. His right arm received a sabre cut, but he did not shrink from
his duty; and when the general sent despatches containing an account
of the battle, he added: "The Chevalier de St. George behaved himself
during the whole action with the utmost valor and energy." Mary Beatrice
felt very proud of her son, and returned to St. Germain with her
daughter to meet him, after having passed several weeks in complete
seclusion at Chaillot convent.
[[A.D. 1710.]] The chevalier made a third campaign with the French army,
but returned in bad health and spirits, {322}and spent the following
winter with his mother and sister, keeping up their separate courts at
St. Germain, as well as their poverty would admit. In the spring he
made a tour of France; and during his absence Mary Beatrice retired
to Chaillot again, where she was really happier than when compelled to
observe court ceremonies. While there the royal family of France did not
desert her, for they made her frequent visits, which she returned with
her daughter, though it cost her a struggle each time she went to court.
She always appeared in her widow's weeds; but the princess went in full
court costume.
[[A.D. 1711.]] Shortly after her son's return, Mary Beatrice received a
letter from her old friend, de Lauzun, informing her that peace between
France and England would probably soon be established, and, if so, Louis
XIV. could no longer acknowledge the title or cause of her son. This was
sad news indeed, but the poor queen bore it calmly; and upon the heels
of this report came assurance from Marlborough that the recall of the
prince seemed certain to take place soon. Thus between hope and despair
Mary Beatrice was kept in a constant state of excitement.
When we recall the vicissitudes of the queen-mother's life, our
admiration of her courage and resignation is changed to surprise that
her strength did not succumb, when in her advanced years she was called
upon to bear a cruel blow, caused by the death of the darling and pride
of her heart, the Princess Louisa.
[[A.D. 1712.]] This beautiful, affectionate, devoted daughter died of
small-pox in April, and her brother was ill of the same disease when she
was taken. The English at St. Germain were not more disconsolate than
were the French at Versailles on account of the death of this young
girl, whose charming qualities had rendered her a general favorite. But
what must have been the agony of the poor {323}mother, who, after being
deprived of the chief solace of her old age, saw her son recover only
to be separated from her by the stern decree of circumstances? The
negotiations of peace between France and England required the prince
to withdraw entirely from the French dominions, and this had only been
delayed on account of his illness.
Well, the time came at last when the Chevalier de St. George was
compelled to leave St. Germain, and his poor mother was so unhappy at
parting with him that she went to Chaillot, where, in company of the
nuns, she hoped to find comfort and resignation. She arrived at the
convent at seven o'clock in the evening, and burst into tears as she
passed through the gate, saying: "This is the first time that I feel no
joy in coming to this holy spot; but, my God, I ask not consolation, but
the accomplishment of thy divine will!"
She sat down to supper, but ate nothing; and when she retired to her
chamber, attended by the three nuns who waited on her, she exclaimed:
"At last I may give liberty to my heart and weep for my poor girl." The
nuns could not speak, their tears flowed in sympathy with their royal
visitor, who said several times between her sobs, "My God, thy will be
done," and then added: "Thou hast not waited for my death to despoil me:
thou hast done it during my life; but thy will be done."
The next day Mary Beatrice was so ill that her physicians had to be
summoned; and as she continued to grow worse, it was feared that she
would die at the convent; however, after a few days she recovered.
On the very day that the truce with England was proclaimed in Paris
the Chevalier de St. George went over from Livry to bid farewell to his
mother. He met her at the church door as she came out; and as he had
just been bled in the foot,--a form of medical treatment very popular
{324}in those days,--he was lame and leaned on his cane for support.
Mary Beatrice was suffering from an attack of gout, which obliged her
also to make use of a cane; and the mother and son laughed heartily at
the coincidence. The abbess said to the chevalier, "Sire, we hope your
majesty will do us the honor to dine with us, as your royal uncle, King
Charles, breakfasted when setting out for England."
"That journey will not be yet for me," he replied, drily.
September 7 was fixed for the chevalier's departure from Paris, and he
went again to the convent on the previous day to bid a long farewell to
his mother, whom he commended to the care of the nuns and her confessor,
Father Ruga. Three days later he arrived at the French border, where he
was to stop until his future residence should be decided upon.
Mary Beatrice remained at the convent, where she was visited from time
to time by the most distinguished people of France; and the king sent
her presents of game, fruit, and flowers.
[[A.D 1713.]] A letter from the chevalier, written at the beginning
of the following year, informed his mother that he had been most
affectionately received at Bar-le-duc by the Duke and Duchess of
Lorraine. The latter was a relation, being descended from James I., so
it was very pleasing to the queen to hear that any one in whose veins
ran Stuart blood should be kind to her son.
It was a sad day for the exiled queen when the peace of Utrecht was
signed, for one of the articles stated: "That, to insure forever the
peace and repose of Europe and of England, the King of France recognized
for himself and his successors the Protestant line of Hanover, and
agreed that he who had taken the title of King of Great Britain should
remain no longer in France."
Mary Beatrice knew that it grieved King Louis to banish {325}her son,
but he was forced by the turn political affairs had taken to do it.
The Jacobites, as the opponents of William and Mary were called in
England, never gave up the hope of seeing "the king over the water"--a
name they had given to the Chevalier de St. George--restored to the
throne, and many of them went to France from time to time on purpose to
pay their respects to the queen-mother.
At the close of the year a report reached Mary Beatrice that her son was
about to renounce the Catholic faith and become a member of the Church
of England; but a letter from him reassured her on that score, for he
wrote: "I doubt not that the reports which are in circulation of my
having changed my religion have reached you, but you know me too well to
be alarmed; and I can assure you that, with the grace of God, you will
sooner see me dead than out of the church."
There was a great deal of distress at St. Germain on account of poverty;
and as it was the loyal and faithful followers of Mary Beatrice who
actually suffered the pangs of hunger at times, she was sorely afflicted
on their account.
[[A.D. 1714.]] At last a small part of the money due her in England was
ordered to be paid by Queen Anne, which relieved the wants of many for
the time; but it was all Mary Beatrice ever received from that quarter,
and by no means freed her from debt.
Shortly after this beneficent act Queen Anne died, and the moment the
Chevalier de St. George heard it he travelled post-haste, incognito, to
Paris to consult with his mother and other friends, having made up his
mind to proceed at once to England to assert his claim to the throne.
The Duke de Lauzun had hired a small house at Chaillot in his own
name for the reception of the royal adventurer, {326}and thither Mary
Beatrice went to meet him. He did not dare to venture near St. Germain,
because he was too well known there, and preferred to keep his presence
in France secret until he could ascertain what Louis XIV. would decide
to do. That monarch had already paid dearly for the sympathy he had
shown the royal widow and her son; besides, France was in no condition
to maintain another war, so his majesty sent his minister, De Torcy, to
persuade the Chevalier de St. George to return at once to Lorraine, and
ordered at the same time that in case of refusal the young claimant of
the British crown was to be compelled to leave France immediately.
Utterly destitute of money, ships, or men, the prince was powerless to
take any stand, and meanwhile George I. was proclaimed King of England.
Louis XIV. had yielded to the urgent entreaties of Mary Beatrice in
behalf of her son in so far as to command arms to be furnished for ten
thousand men, and ships to transport them to Scotland, but before these
arrangements were completed his majesty died.
[[A.D. 1715.]] Then a formidable insurrection broke out in Scotland, and
King James III., as well as Mary, the queen-mother, were prayed for
in the churches. When Mary Beatrice heard this she was in an agony of
suspense, because she had had no news of her son for nearly three weeks.
She knew that he had left Lorraine, and vague reports had reached her
of his being in different parts of France in disguise, when suddenly
one day he appeared before her at Chaillot in the habit of a monk. The
chevalier spent only twenty-four hours with his mother, and then bade
her farewell to set out on a journey fraught with danger. Spies were
everywhere, and the identity of the strange monk was soon made known
to his enemies. He started from Chaillot in one of the post carriages
belonging to the Baron de {327}Breteul, a warm partisan of the Stuarts.
The chevalier was still disguised as a monk, and travelled attended
by some horsemen who wore the livery of his friend, the baron. At the
village of Nonancourt a shabbily dressed old woman stopped the carriage,
and going close up to the door said to the disguised occupant: "If you
are the King of England go not to the post-house or you are lost, for
several villains are waiting there to murder you."
Knowing that a bribe of a hundred thousand pounds had been set on his
head by the British government, the chevalier dared not disregard such
a piece of intelligence, but he questioned the woman further. She told
him that her name was L'Hopital, and added: "I am a lone woman, mistress
of the post-house of Nonancourt; I warn you not to approach, because I
overheard three Englishmen discussing with some desperate characters of
this neighborhood a design to kill a traveller who was to change horses
with me to-night on his way to Château Thierry. I drugged their wine,
and now they are so intoxicated that I locked them in the house, and
came to conduct you to the cottage of our curate, where you will be
safe."
The chevalier was struck by the woman's earnestness and simplicity,
and resigned himself to her guidance. Having conducted him and his
attendants to the house of the village pastor, L'Hopital summoned the
magistrate, who, after hearing her story, arrested the three men and
shut them up in prison. Two of them proved to be Englishmen and the
third a well known French spy.
The next morning the worthy post-mistress sent the chevalier forward
in another disguise, with fresh horses that soon carried him to Nantes,
where a vessel awaited him, in which he descended the Loire to St. Malo.
Finding an English squadron on the watch for him, the royal adventurer,
attended by six gentlemen, all dressed as French {328}naval officers,
rode on horseback to Dunkirk, where they embarked on a small vessel and
arrived at Perth, in Scotland, on the seventh of December.
Meanwhile Mary Beatrice had a severe attack of illness, occasioned by
anxiety on her son's account, for she never heard of his arrival on
British soil until he had been gone nearly two months.
Without entering into all the painful details of this expedition, it is
only necessary for us to say that, although the Scotch rejoiced at the
idea of having "the auld Stuarts back again," it resulted, as usual, in
defeat.
[[A.D. 1716.]] The Chevalier de St. George returned to France in
disguise as before, and spent several days with his mother, although
his presence on French soil was interdicted, as we know. To have her son
under the same roof with her once more was a satisfaction for which Mary
Beatrice had scarcely dared to hope; but her pleasure was short-lived,
for the very morning after she had embraced him Lord Bolingbroke, his
private secretary, waited on the chevalier to advise his immediate
return to Bar. Etiquette required him to ask permission of the Duke of
Lorraine, and as it would require several days to receive an answer
from that kinsman, the chevalier repaired to Châlons rather than risk a
longer stay on forbidden ground. His unsuccessful enterprise in Scotland
had rendered his position much worse than it had been before with regard
to the European powers, for they dared not offer him an asylum. Even his
former friend, the Duke of Lorraine, refused to receive him, and he was
advised to go to Sweden, but the spot he fixed upon was the beautiful
town of Avignon.
Although the Regent Orleans would neither grant assistance to the
Chevalier de St. George nor permit him to remain in France, he treated
the widowed queen with every mark of veneration. The British ambassador
had remonstrated {329}against her being allowed to remain at St.
Germain, but she was too much loved and pitied by all classes of people
for the regent to consent to her removal, even had he desired it.
Therefore, to her dying day Mary Beatrice maintained the state and title
of queen dowager of England, and lived undisturbed at the royal château
that King Louis XIV. had placed at her disposal when, as a fugitive, she
had sought his protection many years ago.
[[A.D. 1718.]] But the weary pilgrimage of poor Mary Beatrice was
drawing to a close. Her last illness attacked her in April, and by the
beginning of the following month she knew that her end was near. She
desired to receive the last sacraments of the church, and afterwards
took leave of all her faithful friends and attendants, thanking them for
their services, and desiring all present "to pray for her and for the
king, her son, that he might serve God faithfully all his life." This
she repeated in a louder tone, fearing that every one in the room, which
was full of people, might not have heard.
The dying queen asked to see Marshal Villeroi, the governor of the young
King of France, and when he appeared at her bedside sent an earnest
appeal to the Regent Orleans and Louis XV., in behalf of her son, whom
she was to see no more. She also recommended her dependants to their
care, and begged that the regent would not let them perish for want in a
foreign land when she was gone.
The next day the good queen expired, in the sixtieth year of her age and
the thirtieth of her exile. She had borne her sorrows and misfortunes
with true heroism to the last, and her death was worthy of her life.
When the mother of the Regent Orleans announced to her German relatives
that Mary Beatrice was dead, she added: "She never in her life did wrong
to any one; if {330}you were about to tell her a story about a person,
she always said: 'If it be any ill, I beg you not to relate it to me; I
do not like histories which attack the reputation.'" It would be well
for us who live in a more civilized age to lay this lesson to heart, and
emulate the pious example of Mary Beatrice.
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[Illustration: 0337]
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