ANNE OF AUSTRIA, eldest daughter of Philip III. of Spain, and Queen of Louis XIII. of France, appears to have been a very ambiguous character. Some historians contend for her immaculate virtue, while others speak freely of her to an opposite extreme. Perhaps, as in many other cases, the truth lies in a medium. Born in 1601, she was married at fifteen, to a spouse five days younger than herself-a precocious union, in which all thought of mutual liking was more completely set aside than is usual, even in royal alliances. The natural consequence was, that they led an unhappy life, and in a short time seldom met, except upon public occasions. When, after a nominal union of twenty-three years, Louis XIV. was born, the event was so extraordinary and unlooked for, that the ready tongue of scandal whispered more than doubts of the royal infant's legitimacy. The Queen was suspected of an undue partiality for Gaston of Orleans, her husband's brother; but no evidence was ever produced beyond her affable demeanor. This of itself was sufficient to rouse the King's jealousy, which he thought became his dignity, although his heart had no interest in the matter. There was reasonable color for the suspicion, notwithstanding, for when the King fell dangerously ill in 1630, and his life was despaired of, a marriage by mutual consent was talked of between the widow expectant and the heir presumptive. Cardinal Richelieu hated the Queen, did all in his power to ruin her, and for a series of years subjected her to a harassing and unmanly persecution. If we could believe secret anecdotes, and the court gossip of the day, he had been treat. ed with contempt, and exposed to ridicule in a manner which a haughty and vindictive spirit, such as he possessed, was not likely to forgive. Whatever might be her imperfections or weaknesses, the Queen was en

dowed with beauty, grace, gentleness of manner, a sweet temper, and an amiable disposition. The king-minister-who, as he VOL. XXXIV.—NO. II.

said himself, covered all scruples of conscience with his cardinal's robe-fell in love with the Queen, and committed himself so far as unequivocally to declare his passion. Anne appeared to encourage his hopes, merely to turn him into ridicule. Such was her ascendency over that strong mind, and the influence of the passion which he suffered to obscure his reason, that he was persuaded to appear in the presence of her majesty, and dance a saraband in the costume of Scaramouch. At the appointed time, he caused himself to be conveyed secretly to the palace in a sedan-chair,* masked, and enveloped in a large cloak. The exhibition was to be perfectly private, and the Queen the only spectator; but when the infatuated politician was executing one of his happiest pirouettes, and the Queen imperfectly endeavored to suppress her laughter, his quick ears caught an accompanying titter, which proceeded from the ladies in waiting and maids of honor, concealed purposely behind the arras. at once that he had been made a dupe and a victim. With unutterable vexation at his heart, and a deep scowl of malignity on his countenance, he rushed from the apartment to concoct plans of vengeance, from which he never afterwards relented for a moment. Thenceforward the unhappy Queen was constantly exposed to visits of scrutiny from the chancellor, and examinations before the presidents of the Parliament, on the pretence of being concerned in Spanish plots against the existing administration. These inflictions were enforced with personal rudeness, under the alleged sanction of the King's authority. Her strong box was broken open; her presses forced and searched; the daring insolence

He saw

So called from Sedan on the Meuse, in France, where they were originally fabricated. The Duke of Buckingham imported the first to England in

the reign of James I. His appearance in it created great indignation amongst the lower orders, who exclaimed that he was employing his fellowcreatures to do the service of beasts.

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was even carried so far as to ransack her pockets, and to look under her neckhandkerchief. The most faithful domestics were torn away from her, some immured in dungeons, and others treated with savage barbarity. On one of these trying occasions, when Richelieu himself superintended the proceedings, she lost her habitual self-command, and, bursting into an ecstasy of tears, exclaimed, “ Monseigneur le Cardinal, Dieu ne paye pas toutes les semaines, mais enfin il paye." ("My Lord Cardinal, God does not settle his accounts with mankind every week, but at last he winds them up effectually.") Yet this princess, in spite of the cruel treatment she received from Richelieu, was still so conscious of his great talents for legislation, that, on seeing a picture of him soon after she became regent of France, she remarked, "If Richelieu had lived till this time, he would have been more powerful than ever."

Nothing is more certain than that Anne of Austria treated the overtures of Richelieu with contempt and derision. It is not so clear that she was equally deaf to George Villiers, the first Duke of Buckingham, who, by his influence with two successive monarchs-James and Charles, ruled over Great Britain as despotically as the Cardinal governed France. We are so accustomed to associate with this celebrated favorite the idea of a worthless court-minion, swayed by caprice and evil passions, caring for nothing but his own selfish pleasures, and regardless of the public interest, that we are scarcely prepared for the eulogium pronounced on his character by a grave and conscientious historian, Lord Clarendon, who, in a comparison between this nobleman and the Earl of Essex, observes, after praising the Duke's extreme affability and gentleness to all men, "He had, besides, such a tenderness and compassion in his nature, that such as think the laws dead if they are not severely executed, censured him for being too merciful; but his charity was grounded upon a wiser maxim of state: Non minus turpé principi multa supplicia, quam medico multa funera. He believed, doubtless, that hanging was the worst use man could be put to." Buckingham, on his last fatal journey to Portsmouth, was intercepted on the road by an old woman, who told him she had heard some desperate persons vow to

kill him. He laughed, and disregarded the intelligence, as Cæsar neglected the augury respecting the ides of March. His nephew, Lord Fielding, riding in company with him, desired him to exchange doublets, and to let him have his blue ribbon; and undertook to muffle himself up in such a manner that he should be mistaken for the Duke. The Duke immediately caught him in his arms, saying that he could not accept of such an offer from a nephew whose life he valued as highly as his own. Yet the unbridled passions of Buckingham involved two great nations in war, and occasioned the loss of many thousand lives. Being sent to Paris. with a complimentary embassy on the occasion of his master's marriage with Henrietta Maria, and to conduct the bride elect to England, he was bold enough to fall in love with the Queen of Louis XIII., and had the hardihood to declare himself, plainly, in an interview which he obtained by artifice. The Marchioness de Senecy, lady of honor, who was present, thinking the conversation too long, placed herself in the Queen's armchair, who that day was in bed, only with a view of preventing the Duke from approaching too closely; and when she saw that he had entirely lost all self-command, and burst forth into the rhapsodies of a passionate lover, she interrupted him with a severe look, saying, "Hold your tongue, sir, and remember that a Queen of France is not to be spoken to in that strain." This fact, which seems somewhat romantic, is attested by Giovanni Battista Nani, an Italian historian of good repute, who distinguished himself in an important mission from the Republic of Venice to the French Court. Madame de Motteville seems to confirm it in her Memoirs, for she says, that when the court went as far as Amiens, to accompany Madame Henrietta Maria, who was going to marry the King of England, the Duke of Buckingham found an opportunity to obtain a moment's private conversation with the Queen, during which that princess was obliged to exclaim and call for her equerry. She adds, also, that when the audacious envoy took leave of the Queen, he kissed her gown, and let fall some tears. According to this retailer of court gossip, it was Madame de Launay, and not the Marchioness de Senecy, who was seated near the Queen's bed, when the Duke, transported beyond reason with his passion, having left Henrietta Maria at Boulogne, came back under pretence of some forgotten affairs, but in reality to see her majesty. Other authorities say

a punishment singularly mild, when compared to the audacity of the offence. Nevertheless, the Prince de Condé, proud, absolute, and who paid respect to nothing but his own will, took openly the part of his favorite. It is said that he insisted, in the most imperative manner, that the Queen should admit De Jarsay to her presence. But even Condé here exceeded the verge of his influence. The Queen resisted, and the Prince was imprisoned, as a consequence of persevering in his disloyal interference.

According to the conflicting anecdotes of the day, which are to be ferreted out by those patient investigators who have time, leisure, and taste for the examination of family his tory, Anne of Austria was not always so severe as she is here represented. The libellous pamphlets which were published at the time of the Fronde, accuse her of having exceeded ordinary good nature and friendship in her intercourse with Cardinal Mazarin. But it would be cruel injustice to give implicit credit to hired partisans, who, from political animosity, crusade against every thing but their own avowed principles and objects, and are ever ready to change white into black, or to displace truth for falsehood, to serve a political purpose. That the attachment of the Queen for this cardinal, successor to Richelieu (who possessed all the cunning and finesse of his predecessor, with much of his ability, and very little of his boldness), was carried to a great extreme, is certain; but the quality of the liaison is not so easily determined-it might be Platonic, criminal, or matrimonial. The weight of evidence inclines to the latter solution; but, in either case, the attachment was absolute and enduring, and led to all the misfortunes which beset France during the minority of Louis XIV., and especially to the civil wars of the Fronde. Madame the Duchess de Baviere says in her letters, "The Abbé detected in an intrigue. Anne of Austria, however, did much worse-she was not contented with intriguing with Cardinal Mazarin, she married him.' This she could do, if she pleased, without infringing the ordinances of the Church, for Mazarin was only a secular cardinal, and had never taken priest's orders. Whatever might be their relative position, he soon quarrelled with the Queen, and used her as ill as if they had been actually married, and he was tired of her. Yet, in opposition to this deduction, when Mazarin sounded her respecting the marriage of Louis XIV. with one of his nieces, she rejected the idea with becoming indignation.

Was

"I am afraid," says the Cardinal, fencing, as he approached the subject, “that the King's passion will hurry him on to marry my niece." The Queen, who knew every movement of the minister's mind, was not cajoled by this affectation, but saw at once that in his heart he wished what he pretended to fear. The wily Italian had already married another niece to the Prince de Conti (brother of Condé, but far from being of the same reputation); a second to the Duc de Mercœur ; and this, the third, of whom Louis XIV. was enamored, had been refused to Charles II., when in exile, and half proposed to Richard Cromwell, during the protectorate of his father., Voltaire plainly calls all these young ladies the daughters of the Cardinal; and although his general veracity as a historian is of the lowest order, the chances are, that in this particular instance he speaks the truth. The Queen replied to the suggestion of Mazarin with the dignity of a princess of the Austrian blood, who was the daughter, wife, and mother of a sovereign; and with the contempt she had now conceived for the man and the minister, who had forgotten his obligations, and affected no longer to depend on her. "If the King,' said she, "should show himself capable of committing such a dishonorable and degrading action, I would put myself and my second son at the head of the whole French nation against him and you!" Mazarin never pardoned her; but he was too prudent not to conform to her sentiments, so powerfully expressed. He made a merit of necessity, and assumed credit for opposing, from that time forward, the King's passion. In fact, he feared the haughty character of his niece, who was very capable, when raised to the summit of power, of forgetting the ladder by which she had ascended. Mazarin was never honest; his life was a tissue of falsehood, and his last act, of giving his accumulated wealth to the King, was done under the impression that his majesty would restore the gift, which he did, after three days' deliberation. To be invariably deceitful, is as great an error in politics as to be systematically straightforward. So says Machiavelli, a great master in the complicated science. Mazarin bequeathed to Louis a better legacy than money-namely, his dying

* Mazarin had contrived to amass above 200,000,000 of livres, nearly eight millions and a half sterling (£8,500,000)! This enormous sum was supposed to be acquired by indirect means. In his avarice he was the opposite of Richelieu, who was prodigal of money, and only valued it as a means by which to accomplish his ends.