BOOKS.
FILIA DOLOROSA—MEMOIRS OF THE DUCHESS OF ANGOITLEME..
MISFORTUNES are so common in the world, that to attract the general attention of mankind they require all the force that contrast can give them. " Fall'n, fall'n, fall'n, from a high estate," is scarcely sufficient; the victim must fall from the highest. Those figures which stand out in history as memorable for misery have worn a crown,—as Anne Boleyn, Mary .Queen of Scots, Charles the First. The Greek poets selected their greatest chieftains to exhibit the woes which a persecuting destiny inflicts on mortals. Shakspere took a king when he combined physical destitution with mental desolation to heighten tragic effect. Mere exposure and privation are too common to myriads to produce a dramatic emotion in themselves; they require the force of contrast to move the audience.
Of all the terrible reverses which history has preserved to touch the feelings or lower the pride of man, the downfall of the elder Bourbons appears the most terrible. Amidst the misfortunes of their royal predecessors in misery, a regard was generally paid to those formal observances so dear to the princely and indeed to the human mind. Trial by inferiors instead of peers, the prison, the scaffold, the executioner, are bitter realities; but they are rendered more bitter by contemptuous insult. From this Anne Boleyn, Queen Mary, and to a great extent King Charles, were free. The Bourbon family were overwhelmed with degradation in every form,—made, as Burke expresses it on one occasion and that by no means the worst, to taste, drop by drop, more than the bitterness of death : yet their miseries do not seem to have touched the world to the same degree as those of lesser sufferers. We may be too near to take in the whole im- pression unencumbered by'disturbing concomitants : the treachery of the Queen the weakness and perhaps more than the weakness, the awkwardness of the King, may harden the breast; perhaps the mind cannot help feeling the causes that produced the more de- grading or revolting insults,—the extortion and profligacy of the Court; the licentious and exacting oppressions of the nobles ; the neglect of every religious and educational duty by a clergy among the richest and most numerous in Europe. The ferocious Jacobins who for three long years insulted the majesty of France were wretches lower than the lowest savages ; but who had allowed them to become what they were P—A query pregnant even yet with warning to other nations. The Royal children—the Dauphin, and his sister, afterwards Duchess of Angouleme, truly though somewhat affectedly termed by Mrs. Romer "fills dolorosa —were altogether guiltless ; nor is there anything sadder than their story, till death released the boy, and the girl was given up to Austria in exchange. Still, the depth of the reader's feeling is hardly equal to the depth of the tragedy ; probably because the boy was too young to appreciate the great- ness of the contrast, and the after life of the Duchess of Angoti- leme has not impressed the world with her amiable qualities. Somewhat impassive by nature, her sensibilities were seared by early misfortune and the necessity of quiet endurance, or at least their development was prevented. The sadness produced in a mind from which youth and joy had been ruthlessly cut off, gave a shade of sternness to her manners; and the evil side of humanity, which was ever presented to her for seventy years, infused a distrust of mankind beyond her own immediate circle of emigres, whose notions were less fitted for the living world than even her own. Religions she undoubtedly was; but her piety verged upon formal asceticism if not bigotry. With an allowance for difference of age and nation, the Duchess of Angouleme has a close resemblance to Mary Tudor. There is little doubt that the English Mary would have borne per- secution as firmly and submissively as Marie Therese Charlotte Capet; as little doubt, perhaps that three centuries earlier, the female Bourbon, under the influence of a cruel and inexorable priesthood, would have persecuted as firmly as "Bloody Mary." The Duchess of Angouleme was born in 1778, and died in 1851. The real interest of her life as a biography is confined to the time between 1789, when the threatenings of the Revolution caused un- easiness in the parents which extended to the children, and 1795, when, after the terrors of early Revolutionary violence, the execu- tion of her parents and her aunt Elizabeth, and the sufferings of her own imprisonment, she was released from the Temple. As far as suffering went, perhaps the tragedy extends to her release from Austria; for although she had personal comfort and material splen- dour at Vienna, she underwent more individual persecution to make her the Archduke Charles than she had received from the Jaciobiof Paris ; the friendly object of her Imperial relations of the house of Hapsburg being nothing more or less than the dis- memberment of the French monarchy when it should be revived, under the pretence of claiming the Dauphine's dower. This paucity of biographical material has rendered these volumes as much a history of the personal misfortunes of the Bourbon family as a life of the Duchess of Angonleme. In the earlier part this was unavoidable; Madame Royale (her title at that period) chiefly suffered through the sufferings of others. At a later date, indeed, it was much the same ; for she never can be said to have acted independently save at Bordeaux after Napoleon's return from Elba, when her gallant though useless efforts made the Em-
• Filia Dolorosa. Memoirs of ?daria Therese Charlotte, Duchess of Angouleme, the last of the Dauphines. By Mrs. Romer, Author of "A Pilgrimage to the Tem- ples and Tombs of Egypt," &c. In two volumes. Published by Bentley.
parer exclaim that she was the only man of her family. The in. troduotion of foreign matter, however, has been carried to too great a length, and with rather a bookmaking spirit. Not only is the narrative stopped for the lives of three impostors pretend- ing to be her brother the Dauphin, but for historical sketches of memorable buildings, &c. connected with her career. The book is a joint composition. The fatal illness of the late Mrs. Romer compelled its completion by another hand, and Dr. Doran was selected for the task. This has caused little in- congruity either of method or manner ; unless it be that the Doc- tor has a more manly style and rather more philosophy. The book, however, is not remarkable in this respect : it is deficient in criticism and thought. A skilful selection has been made of the ample materials relating to the misfortunes of the Royal Bourbons, and the narrative is frequently told in the style if not in the words of the originals. Mrs. Romer's manner, from long residence abroad, was indeed eminently foreign, and Dr. Doran, if we are correct in our ascriptions, has a similar style. The book is readable and generally interesting ; but a closer life of the Duchess of A;agou- leme, a deeper and a juster view of the family misery, could be produced. As an example of the narrative, and of the frequent necessity of blending the family fortunes together, their agony when they left the Tuileries to take refuge in the Assembly on the celebrated 10th of August 1792 may be quoted.
"As the Assembly was on the point of renewing the proceedings which had been interrupted by the arrival of the Royal Family, one of the members reminded the President that no discussion could be opened in the presence of the King. Louis readily obeyed the rule here signified, and rose as if about to depart from the body of the house ; beyond it the Royal Family dared not go, nor dared any man suggest a retreat for them other than the imperfect one which was only a momentary resting-place between them and captivity.
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As a temporary asylum, a tribune or box n the gallery, called the Tribune du Logographe,' was assigned to them. The reporters who occupied it, with- out leaving their places, made what room they could for the King and his family. The box itself was not above ten feet square, and between it and the hall into which it looked there was a light iron grating. The sounds of violence from without made some of the members apprehensive that the King might be attacked by the populace from the passages behind the box ; and the iron grating was at once removed, in order, in such case, to enable him to step into the hall, with the upper seats of which it was on a level, and there find refuge. There were no workmen at hand to effect the removal; but it was accomplished by the united efforts of several of the members and nobles in attendance upon the King, the monarch himself aiding to the utmost of his yet vigorous strength. Into this narrow and crowded receptacle the unhappy family were thrust, and they were not alone within the narrow limits of their improvised prison. The King sat in front, the Queen more in the rear, and less visible. Madame Royale and the Dauphin, sinking beneath the terrific heat and the cruel agitation consequent upon the events which succeeded, and by which they were stricken, so rapidly, were on a bench close to the Queen. Further back, Madame Elizabeth, the Princesse de Lamballe, and Madame de Tourzel, found scanty room to sit. Behind them stood two of the King's Ministers, and some eight or ten of the great officers of his household ; and all these in a box less than a dozen feet square, with a close, crowded hall before them, the passages in the rear thronged with troops and officers, not a breath of air stirring, and a fierce August sun darting down his consuming rays upon all. At the door of the box stood some noblemen, partisans of the King ; they were attired as National Guards, and they kept the post as senti- nels.
"Under such circumstances, deliberation with calm and dignity was hardly possible. The Assembly was agitated. The King was oppressed with the heat, and the Princesses in a condition of utter exhaustion. The children perhaps afforded the most pitiable spectacle. They had been hastily aroused at dawn ; they had participated in every event and peril of the day ; they had lived a momentous life in experiencing the emotions of a few terrible hours : they were unrefreshed, without food, their young energies prostrated alike by hunger and affright. There was scarcely strength enough left in Madame Royale to whisper words of comfort to the hapless little sharer in the general misery ; and there was not a heart in the vast assembly manly enough to propose that the children at least should be spared the torture about to be in- flicted, and that they should be withdrawn from a scone where in addition to their own sufferings, they were compelled to witness the degradation and affliction of their parents. Each moment for these poor little ones had its peculiar agony. Within a few yards of them, the mob outside was exer- cising its popularly-sovereign right of murdering such victims as they could seize. The shrieks of those victims were incessant, and carried terror into the hearts of the Princess and her brother, pity and anxiety into those of the other captives. Amid this terrible chorus the Assembly, split into groups, ere the general business was resumed, indulged in conversation according to the temper that there prevailed. Those near the box occupied by the mute and expectant prisoners, indulged themselves in words or actions both allud- ing to ends of fearful violence and revenge. The defenceless Monarch and the Queen heard and comprehended all. They continued silent, resigned, and, whatever they may have felt for the ordinances of man, submissive to the decrees of God, to whatever destiny they were thereby driven. "After a time refreshment was offered to them. The King accepted the offer, and partook with appetite and apparent enjoyment of what was pre- sented to him. The Assembly looked on and smiled in scorn. A stout gen- tleman, not so overcome by sorrow as to have lost his appetite, and who can eat heartily while a hundred or two of his enemies are watching him with feelings of contempt, is certainly not a dignified spectacle. The Queen felt the degradation and its consequences. They who had attached some idea of divinity to a king were not likely to continue to maintain so lofty a senti- ment at witnessing the grosser material of the kingly nature. No persuasion could induce her to indulge any possible craving for food. Her lips only opened for speech—no food passed them. What she declined for herself, however, she accepted for her poor children. Some of the better-disposed members had approached the box, and offered in respectful and consoling terms little tributes of fruit ; as the Queen roused herself from the sorrow which seemed slaying her, and bent forward to accept these welcomed testi- monies of pity, perhaps of love, tears and not speech thanked the donors. When she placed the offering in the hands of her children, these perceived that the fruit so presented to them was moist, not with refreshing dew, but with the hot tears wrung from the very soul of their suffering and heartbroken mother. The fruit was acceptable, however, to the young prisoners ; and to the Dauphin especially it seemed to lend new spirit and fresh courage. Be crept to his father's side ; but in place of comfort or protection he only there witnessed that father's degradation. Madame Royale continued silently weeping, and the heat dried the tears on her cheeks. The Dauphin ques- tioned the King, in childish simplicity, upon the scene and the personages before them ; and the Monarch replied to his inquiries with calmness, real or affected. The composure was terribly shaken by repeated insults. David, the celebrated painter, passed the front of the box in which the Royal Fa- mily were shut up ; and the ring, recognizing the artist, inquired when he should have finished the portrait of Louis, which David had already com- menced. The reply manifested as much cowardice as sanguinary cruelty. I will never again,' said the painter, in a loud voice, and with a ferocious look at the King and his family, I will never again paint the likeness of a tyrant till I see his head rolling before me on the scaffold.' This brutal outrage painfully affected all the wretched and helpless captives. The King held down his head in silence ; the Princesses, children, and ladies, wept abundantly : but there was not a man present who cried shame at the wan- ton outrage inflicted on those who had not the power even of protesting against it."
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