On the very day that restored Consalvi to his councils, Pius VII. learned that all the nations of Europe refused to receive within their territories the proscribed family of Napoleon. Rome opened her gates.
Madame Mère, as she was called, the mother of Napoleon, wrote thus to Consalvi, 27th May, 1818:
"I wish and I ought to thank your eminence for all you have done in our favor since the burden of exile has fallen on my children and myself. My brother, Cardinal Fesch, did not leave me ignorant of the generous way in which you received the request of mom grand et malheureux proscrit de St. Hélène. He said that on learning the emperor's prayer, so just and so Christian, you had hastened to interpose with the English government, and to seek out priests both worthy and able. I am truly the mother of sorrows; and the only consolation left me is to know that the Holy Father forgets the past, and remembers solely his affection for us, which he testifies to all the members of my family.
"My sons, Lucian and Louis, who are proud of your unchanging friendship toward them, have been much touched likewise by all that the Pope and your eminence have done, unknown to us, to preserve our tranquillity when menaced by the different powers of Europe. We find support and an asylum in the pontifical states only; and our gratitude is as great as the benefit. I beg your eminence to place the expression of it at the feet of the holy pontiff, Pius VII. I speak in the name of all my proscribed family and especially in the name of him now dying by inches on a desert rock. His holiness and your eminence are the only persons in Europe who endeavor to soften his misfortunes, or who would abridge their duration. I thank you both with a mother's heart,—and remain always, eminence, yours very devotedly and most gratefully,
"Madame."
Another letter, from the ex-king of Holland, father of the present emperor of the French, addressed to Cardinal Consalvi, still further demonstrates the charity shown by Rome, and suggests many reflections. With these extracts from Consalvi's [{26}] correspondence as a sequel, we shall close our episode of the imperial marriage; the circumstances they recall form a not uninstructive commentary on an event that seemed to place Napoleon at such a high point of worldly greatness.
"Eminence,—Following the advice of the Holy Father and of your eminence, I have seen Mgr. Bernetti, who is specially charged with the affair in question; and he, with his usual frankness, explained the nature of the complaints made by foreign powers against the family of the Emperor Napoleon. The great powers, and principally England, reproach us with always conspiring. They accuse us of being mixed up, implicitly or explicitly, with all the plots in existence; they even pretend that we abuse the hospitality granted us by the Pope to foment divisions in the pontifical states, and stir up hatred against the august person of the sovereign.
"I was fortunately able to furnish Mgr. Bernetti with proofs to the contrary; and he will himself tell you the effect produced on his mind by my words. If the emperor's family, owing so much to Pope Pius XII. and to your eminence, had conceived the detestable design of disturbing Europe, and if it had the means of so doing, the gratitude that we all feel toward the Holy See would evidently arrest us on such a course. My mother, brothers, sisters, and uncle owe too much respectful gratitude to the sovereign pontiff and to your eminence to draw down new disasters on this city, where, while proscribed by the whole of Europe, we have been received and sheltered with a paternal goodness rendered yet more touching by past injustice. We are not conspiring against any one, and still less against God's representative on earth. We enjoy in Rome all the rights of citizens; and when my mother learned in what a Christian manner the Pope and your eminence were avenging the captivity of Fontainebleau and the exile of Rheims, she could only bless you in the name of her grand et malheureux mort, shedding sweet tears for the first time since the disasters of 1814.
"To conspire against our august and sole benefactor would be an infamy that has no name. The family of Bonaparte will never merit such a reproach. I convinced Mgr. Bernetti of it, and he will himself be our surety with your eminence. Deign then to listen to his words, and to grant us the continuance of your favor, together with the protection of the Holy Father.—In this hope, I am, eminence, your very respectful and most devoted servant and friend,
"L. DE SAINT-LEU."
"Rome, 30th Sept. 1821."
From Once A Week.
AN ENGLISH MAIDEN'S LOVE.
I read this incident when a mere girl in a very stupid old novel founded upon it, which I never could succeed in meeting with again. The preface stated that in some church in England there yet remained the monument of the knight with his noble one-armed wife beside him. I should be glad if any of your readers could tell me where this monument is to be seen, and the real names (which I have forgotten) of the knight and lady.
'Twas in the grand heroic days,
When Coeur de Lion reigned and fought;
An English knight ta'en in those frays
To Sultan Saladin was brought.
The sultan sat upon his throne,
His courtiers stood around;
And emir, prince, and padisha
Bent lowly to the ground.
They served him upon bended knee—
"To hear is to obey;"—
For the fierce and cruel Moslem race
An iron hand must sway.
The monarch gazed on each stem face;
"Ye Moslem chiefs are brave;
But I know a braver man than ye,
Bring forth the Christian slave!"
The slave was brought, and at a sign
The scimitar waved high,
But the English captive gazed unmoved,
With calm unshrinking eye.
Then spoke the sultan: "Hugh de Vere,
I've need of men like thee,
And thou shalt be the first man here,
In this land, after me.
"Thou shalt have gold, and gems, and land,
Palaces shall be thine.
And thou shalt wed a queenly bride,
And be a son of mine.
"Only forsake thy fathers' faith,
Mah'med and God adore,
And forget thy love and fatherland.
Which thou shalt see no more."
Then Hugh de Vere obeisance made;—
"Since I must make reply,
I will not change my love or faith,
Far liever would I die.
[{28}] "I have a God who died for me.
His soldier I am sworn.
Shall I, whose shoulder bears the cross,
Upon the cross bring scorn?
"I have a love, a gentle girl.
Whom I love as my wife;
I cannot bear a Moslem name.
Nor wed a Moslem wife."
"Bethink thee now," the sultan said;
"How knowest thou that the maid
Is not now wed, since thy return
Hath been so long delayed?
"Fickle and false is woman's heart,
It changes like the sky;
The showers that fall so fast to-night
To-morrow' sun will dry.
"Nor—trust me—e'er was maiden yet
Constant as is the dove,
Who dies of grief for her lost mate,
And knows no second love."
Then at the monarch's feet bowed low
The saintly frères who came
To ransom slaves, bound by their vow,
For Jesu's holy name.
And at his footstool wealth untold
With lavish hands they pour:
"His bride sends thee her gems and gold;
Sir Hugh de Vere restore!"
The sultan spoke: "The other knights
And men may go with thee.
But not for gold or jewels bright
Shall Hugh de Vere go free.
"I love him with a brother's love,
His love I hope to win.
And in this land raise him above
All men save Saladin.
"What is a woman's love to mine?
A hundred slaves I'll give,
Let him his Christian faith resign,
And in my shadow live.
"His lady-love sends pearls and gold,
She'd give them for a shawl,
But she must give a dearer thing
Before I yield my thrall.
[{29}] "I'll try how Christian maidens love—
This answer to her bear,
'Thy faith and fealty to prove,
Give what is far more dear.
"'This is the ransom I demand,
No meaner thing I'll take,
Thy own right arm and lily hand
Cut off for thy love's sake."
"Return, good frères," Sir Hugh then said,
"To my betrothed bride,
And speak of me henceforth as dead,
Since here I must abide.
"For rather would I die this day
Beneath the paynim swords,
Than ye should bear Agnes de Bray
The sultan's cruel words.
"For well I know her faithful heart
Both arm and life would give
To ransom mine;—and will not prove
Her death, that I may live."
Then mournfully the ransom sent
The good frères took once more.
And with the captives they had freed
Sailed to the English shore.
And Earl de Bray's castell they sought,
And to fair Agnes told,
How that her lover could not be
Ransomed for gems or gold.
And that the cruel sultan asked,—
Nor meaner thing would take,—
Her own right arm and lily hand,
Cut off for her love's sake.
A shudder ran through all who heard,
Her mother shrieked aloud,
Her father, crimsoning, clutched his sword,
And death to Moslems vowed.
Her little sister to her ran,
And clasped her tightly round:
"Sure, sister, such a wicked man
Cannot on earth be found?"
But Agnes smoothed the child's long hair
And kissed her, then spoke low,
"That cruel is the ransom asked.
My dear ones, well I know.
[{30}] "But did not God for ransom give
His own beloved Son?
And do not churls and nobles give
Their lives for king and throne?
"Has not my lord and father bled
By Coeur de Lion's side?
And would he bid his daughter shirk
Duty—whate'er betide?
"Am I not Hugh de Vere's betrothed,
Fast pledged to be his wife?
Do not I owe him fealty,
Even though it cost my life?
"What is my life? Long days and years
In vain repining spent,
And orisons to God to end
My dear love's banishment.
"And he has heard. At last my prayers
Have reached up to God's throne
God gives me back my long lost one,
Nor leaves me sad and lone.
"Only, he asks a sacrifice,
A proof my love is pure:
For such great gain, a little pain.
And shall I not endure?"
* * * * *
Once more the Sultan Saladin
Sat in his royal court,
At his right hand stood Hugh de Vere
Grave-eyed and full of thought.
A herald came. "Sultan, our lord,
The Christians' holy men
Who come to ransom captive slaves,
An audience crave again."
The friars came, and, bowing low,
They placed before the throne
A silver casket richly chased:
And spoke in solemn tone.
"Monarch, to whom women are slaves,
Toys of an idle hour,
Learn in a nobler faith than thine
Love's purity and power.
"The cruel ransom thou didst ask
For Hugh de Vere here take,
His love's right arm and lily hand
"Cut off for her love's sake."
[{31}] Then Hugh de Vere, beside himself,
The casket seized, and said,
"O cruel monks, why told ye her?
I bade ye call me dead.
"O fair sweet arm! O dear white hand!
Cut off for my poor sake!"
And to his breast prest it and sobbed,
As if his heart would break.
But Saladin the casket oped,
And lo! embalmed there lay
The fair white arm and lily hand
Sent by Agnes de Bray.
And as he gazed his tears flowed down,
His nobles also wept
"Oh I would ere I such words had said
I'd with my fathers slept!"
The lily hand full reverently
And like a saint's he kissed.
"O gentle hand! what noble heart
Thee owned, I never wist.
"I never dreamed that woman lived
Who would, to save her lord,
Thus freely give her own right arm
And hand unto the sword.
"Mah'med and God witness for me,
I loved Sir Hugh de Vere!
And thought if I this ransom asked
I should retain him here.
"Fair arm, fair hand, and true brave love!
My kingdom I'd resign—
Richer than any king of earth
In such a love as thine!
"Take, Hugh de Vere, thy freedom, won
So nobly by thy love;
Take gems, and silks, and gold,—all vain
Saladin's grief to prove.
"Tell her I yield my selfish love:
Well may she claim thy life!
She who was such a noble love
Will be a noble wife!
"Unloose the sails, make no delay,
Depart ere close the day.
While I among my precious things
Thy ransom stow away.
"That, 'mid my treasure placed, it may
To future ages prove
How holy Christians' plighted troth,
How pure their maidens' love!"