Chapter IX: Mary Beatrice of Modena, Queen-Consort of James II (2)

It required several hours for all the ceremonies of the coronation to be performed, and the devotion of the queen in following the prayers and making the responses was observed by all present. King James had bestowed a great {278}deal of pains on his wife's regalia, but none on his own, so the crown that had been made for Charles II. was used for him, though it did not fit at all. The heads of the two brothers were as different as their characters, and it was regarded as an ominous sign that the crown could not be made to stay on James's head.

The queen performed a noble deed of charity on that day that brought the blessings of thousands upon her head. She released all prisoners who were in jail for small debts, and herself paid every sum not exceeding five pounds. No wonder that the air rang with cries of "Long live Queen Mary!"

When the ceremonies at the abbey were concluded, the procession returned to Westminster Hall, and their majesties rested in private rooms until all the company had taken their places at seven long tables which were laid for the banquet. Then the king, preceded by his great state officers, entered with the crown on his head, and the sceptre and orb in either hand, and seated himself in his chair of state at the head of the royal table. The queen did the same, her place being at the king's left hand. Most of the ancient ceremonies of coronation banquets were revived that day, and some of them are so curious that they will bear recounting. Certain lords went to the kitchen to receive the dishes and present them to their majesties, which was done in this way: The master of the horse called for a dish of meat, wiped the cover and the dish carefully, tasted the contents, and then ordered it to be conveyed to the royal table, he preceding the first course on horseback the full length of the hall, followed by a train of the principal officers of the household. Thirty-two dishes were brought up by the Knights of the Bath, and a number of others by private gentlemen. When the dinner was placed on the table, the lord chamberlain, carvers, cupbearers, and {279}assistants went to the king's cupboard and washed; then the great basin was brought for the king to wash his hands. Before doing so he delivered his sceptre to a nobleman appointed to hold it, and the orb to the Bishop of Bath. The queen washed also, but she used only a wet napkin presented by the Earl of Devonshire on his knees. Grace was said, and their majesties sat down to the dinner, which consisted of a thousand dishes; among them were many Scotch dainties which reminded the king and queen of the hospitalities they had received in the North.

Before the second course Sir Charles Dymoke rode into the hall on a splendid white horse, preceded by trumpeters, and attended by two gentlemen, one bearing his lance, the other his target. He was dressed in white armor, and wore a red, white, and blue plume in his helmet. He was brought up to the royal table, where the herald proclaimed his challenge, and the champion threw down the gauntlet. This was repeated three times, when the king drank from a gold cup which he presented to his champion, who then rode out of the hall. Several lords presented wine to the king on their knees, each one receiving the silver or gold cup his majesty drank out of for a present.

When the dinner was ended grace was said, the washing of hands was repeated with the same ceremony as before, and their majesties withdrew. In the retiring-room they delivered their regalia to the Dean of Westminster, whose duty it was to keep such valuables under lock and key.

One of King James's first acts after he ascended the throne was to release several thousand Roman Catholics and members of other churches who had been imprisoned for refusing to worship according to the prescribed laws of England. He also put a stop to the practice that had been permitted for many years of people informing against one another about their religious beliefs. As this was often {280}resorted to merely to gratify some personal spite, and had been the means of bringing many an innocent person to the stake, King James did well to abolish it; but he was fighting the prejudices of the people, and could more easily have taken an impregnable fortress, as he soon found to his cost. Many of his subjects were offended at the display James made of his own religion, particularly when he opened a Catholic chapel at Whitehall, and insisted on going there in state with his wife, attended by the high officers of their household, to receive the sacrament. His lord treasurer, the Earl of Rochester, pretended to be ill as an excuse for absenting himself. The Dukes of Norfolk and Somerset openly refused to attend. It was the duty of Lord Godolphin, the queen's chamberlain, to lead her majesty by the hand to her place in the chapel, and to the altar when she chose to receive the sacrament. Although a Protestant, the chamberlain was so charmed with her majesty's beauty and graceful manners that he would not forego his privilege.

King James summoned parliament in June because the Duke of Argyle raised a rebellion in Scotland, while Monmouth did the same in England, and funds were required to suppress both. Monmouth had always been one of James's bitterest and most dangerous enemies, because he thought he had a claim to the throne; he therefore issued a proclamation, denouncing the king "as a usurper, a murderer, a traitor, and a tyrant." He accused James of burning the city of London, of murdering Godfrey,--both events are treated of in the last reign,--of cutting the throat of Essex, and of poisoning his brother, Charles II. He raised an army of ten thousand men, and received so much encouragement at Taunton that he proclaimed himself king, and set a price on the head of "the usurper, James, Duke of York."

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{283}Such prompt and active measures were taken by the royal party that both Argyle and Monmouth were defeated and captured. The latter implored the king for mercy, and succeeded in obtaining a private interview. James had forgiven this bold man for many personal offences when he was Duke of York, but now his position was altered. He was King of England, and could not find it in his conscience to pardon an offender who had plunged his realm into civil war, and sacrificed the lives of three thousand of his subjects. Story, the orator, was taken prisoner for assisting Monmouth with his exciting speeches, that went far towards raising the popular indignation against the sovereign.

When summoned to appear before the council he looked so haggard, neglected, and dirty that King James exclaimed, "Is that a man, or what is it?" On being informed that it was the rebel Story, his majesty replied: "Oh, Story; I remember him--a rare fellow, indeed." Then turning towards him, the king asked: "Pray, Story, you were in Monmouth's army in the west, were you not?"

"Yes, an't please your majesty."

"Pray, you were a commissary there, were you not?" asked the king.

"Yes, an't please your majesty."

"And you made a speech before great crowds of people, did you not?" was the next question,

"Yes, an't please your majesty," answered Story.

"Pray, if you have not forgot what you said, let us have a taste of your fine speech, some specimen of the flowers of your rhetoric."

"I told them, an't please your majesty, that it was you who fired the city of London," boldly answered Story.

"A rare rogue, upon my word," exclaimed James; "and, pray, what else did you tell them?"

{284}"I told them, an't please your majesty, that you poisoned your brother."

"Impudence in the utmost height of it!" said the king. "Pray, let us have something further, if your memory serves you."

"I further told them," continued Story, "that your majesty appeared to be fully determined to make the nation both papists and slaves."

The king had heard enough, and no doubt wondered at the audacity of a man who dared to accuse him to his face of crimes that his very soul would have revolted at. But with remarkable clemency his majesty added: "To all this I doubt not but a thousand other villanous things were added. But what would you say, Story, if after all this I were to grant your life?"

He answered, "That he would pray for his majesty as long as he lived."

Thereupon he was freely pardoned, but Monmouth and Argyle were executed.

This victory of King James's would have increased his popularity and made him extremely powerful, had it not been for the cruel deeds that resulted from it. But Colonel Kirke and Chief-Justice Jeffreys were two barbarians, who caused the execution of thousands, whether innocent or guilty; going from one town to another whence Monmouth had gathered his forces, and committing most unheard-of cruelties.

Such deeds, added to the mistake James made in attempting to have everything his own way, regardless of the will of parliament, led to his ruin and downfall. Popular indignation was aroused against all Roman Catholics, King James included, when Louis XIV. revoked the edict of Nantes. This was a law that had been made by Henry IV., granting the free exercise of religion to all Protestants, and {285}when it was withdrawn, of course, persecutions followed. The result was that nearly fifty thousand Protestants sought refuge in England, and King James treated them with a great deal of consideration.

[[A.D. 1687.]] The queen spent part of the spring of 1687 at Richmond Palace, while James visited his camp at Hounslow; but her health was so poor that she was ordered by her physicians to take a course of treatment at Bath, and while there news of her mother's death reached her. This was a sad bereavement, and one from which Mary Beatrice did not soon recover. It opened a correspondence between her and the Prince of Orange, who, while expressing affectionate sympathy, was secretly plotting for the overthrow of his royal father-in-law. The king was very much under the influence of Sunderland, and of the Jesuit, Father Petre, both bad advisers; but he was also on terms of intimacy with William Penn, the founder of the State of Pennsylvania. This high-minded Quaker entered the king's presence one day, shortly after he ascended the throne, with his hat on his head. James immediately removed his, whereupon Penn said: "Friend James, why dost thou uncover thy head?" The king replied with a smile: "Because it is the fashion here for only one man to wear his hat.".

Penn was sent to Holland to persuade William, Prince of Orange, to concur with the king in trying to do away with those laws that interfered with religious privileges in England, but met with no success, either with him or his wife, Mary.

[[A.D. 1688.]] Queen Mary Beatrice had a little son born at St. James's Palace in 1688, and there was great rejoicing among the king's friends when the infant prince appeared, which was echoed in Edinburgh.

The royal father felt so happy at the birth of his son that, {286}in an evil hour, he granted forgiveness to Nathaniel Hook, who had been the Duke of Monmouth's chaplain. This man became one of the tools of William of Orange, and acted as a spy on the actions of the sovereign who had shown him such mercy.

A grand display of fireworks took place in honor of the prince's birth when he was a few weeks old, and the royal couple were present at the palace window to witness it. Mary Beatrice was gratified by a letter of congratulation sent by the pope on the birth of her son, because his holiness had never been friendly since she married without his consent, nor was he now, as we shall see.

The persons who were anything but pleased at the little fellow's appearance in the world were William of Orange and his wife, because both felt that he was in their way as heir to the crown.

One of William's agents was discovered at Rome in secret correspondence with the pope's secretary, Count Cassoni. He was disguised as a peddler of artificial fruit, which, on being opened, were found to contain slips of paper, written in cypher, that disclosed a plan for the destruction of the king and the little prince. William of Orange was at the bottom of the conspiracy, and intended to carry out his purpose in this way: The pope was to supply funds to be used by the Prince of Orange for the invasion of England, which coming from such a source would not be suspected. All this was disclosed by the slips of paper contained in the fruit, and reached the ears of King James himself.

The royal infant was so very ill when he was about two months old that it was thought each moment would be his last; however, he was provided with a good healthy nurse and got well, much to the delight of his parents, and the disgust of those whose interest it was to wish him out of the {287}way. Then the king and queen with their household removed to Whitehall, and soon after her majesty's birthday was observed with the usual ceremonies and rejoicings.

Mary Beatrice kept up a regular correspondence with the Prince of 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.

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{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

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{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.

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.