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Surnamed the little Queen,

Reign of Charles VI

An authentic portrait engraved exclusively for the Court Magazine
No 94 of the series of ancient portraits.

Nou, Carey street Lincoln's Inn London.

1841

VOL.XX.

shalt come with me," and with one of her hands clasped in his, and his other arm thrown over her shoulder, he continued his way to the Hôtel, casting around him looks expressive of the delight he felt at finding, at length, a being, who seemed to compassionate his forlorn condition.

Odette was suffered to remain with the king for a few days, until one evening that Charles, amusing himself with a pack of cards, unhappily taking the queen of spades for Isabeau de Bevière, was seized with one of his most violent fits of madness, and running about the apartment wildly, cast on his wife the most bitter invectives and threatened to kill her if she came near him. Queen Isabeau who happened to be at this time concealed behind the arras, imagined that it could only be Odette who could have thus exasperated the king's mind against her, and, accordingly the tender-hearted little nurse was dismissed at once, much to her regret and that of the afflicted monarch. Odette de Champ Divers, now an orphan, finding herself without protection in a city where licentiousness was carried to the most appalling height, formed the wise and virtuous resolution of retiring to a nunnery. It happened most opportunely for our little maiden that her own aunt was abbess of the convent of the Trinity; and thither Odette immediately repaired, with the intention of taking vows as soon as the term of her novitiate should have expired. Before that period however arrived, the destinies of the little novice underwent a total change. The king had been removed to the castle of Creil, and his physician Guillaume d'Wersilly, having discovered a slight amelioration in the state of his unhappy patient, during the day or two of Odette's attendance upon him, represented to Isabeau de Bavière, the good effects which her presence, beautiful as she was, and beloved as she had been by the king, would necessarily produce on the mind of the sufferer. Isabeau, seemingly consented to the good doctor's wishes, but having sent for her lover, the duke d'Orleans, the guilty pair decided between themselves, that Isabeau should remain in Paris, unfettered by her matrimonial chains, whilst her place by the bed-side of her suffering lord, should be filled by a hired female, as the soothing presence of woman was pronounced indispensable to the recovery of the monarch. Application was, therefore, made by a strange fatality, to the superior of the convent of the Holy Trinity, to permit one of the young sisters of her flock to become the companion and attendant of Charles the sixth; and that lady, actuated either by a laudable ambition for the advancement of one of her own kindred, or, (and it is by no means improbable), being acquainted with that part of her niece's history, decided upon Odette's filling the singular and important mission, and, accordingly, herself presented the damsel to the queen. No mention whatever being made of any recognition on the part of Isabel, towards the maiden, it may be imagined that the princess did not in reality recollect her, or it might be, that the artful wife, knowing that Odette's services would be more acceptable to the king than those of any strange maiden, and perceiving her own emancipation thereby the more effectually secured, thought it most politic not to make any allusion to the past, and therefore received her as she would have done had they never met before.

On Odette's arrival at Creil Castle, the unfortunate Charles was suffering under one of the most violent paroxysms of the fatal malady to which he was so unhappily subject. He had not at first the slightest recollection of his little companion, who herself trembled at the frenzy she witnessed: the angelic sweetness and unaffected tenderness displayed by the gentle girl had, however, the effect of calming the pertubed spirit of Charles, and after a few struggles the maniac was subdued.

History records not the duration of Odette's sojorn with King Charles the Sixth, nor the date of the death of the devoted girl herself, who, as we see in Dumas, (who has to our certain knowledge literally followed the chronicles of that period,) expired in consequence of her dreadful alarm at hearing that the king had been burnt to death, just at the time when she was about to give birth to a daughter, named Margaret de Valois, afterwards married to John of Harpedanne, lord of Belleville and Poitou, whose portrait will embellish the next number of this magazine.

[We can refer our readers to page 125, in the number for August, 1840, and 'Isabeau' in the Index for the several parts of the Chronicle itself.]

Description of the Portrait of Odette de Champ Divers, surnamed the little queen.

Odette de Champ Divers is attired in the costume worn by the ladies of the court in the reign of Charles the Sixth, and his magnificent queen, Isabeau of Bavaria, so renowned for the splendor in dress, which she was the first to introduce to the court of France, Odette, wears a head-dress different from those of our other portraits already given of the same era. The fair tresses of the young maiden are wholly concealed beneath a sort of cap of gold brocade. This cap is flat on the top of the head, and hangs down over the ears, the sides being ornamented with a chain-work of pearls. A short, but ample veil, rounded below, shades the back of the head, falling at the centre as low as the neck. On the crown of the head is a small and nearly flat chaperon, composed of blue velvet and having a large ruby ornamented in gold and surrounded by pearls; that, immediately over the brow, being one of the large pear pearls. Her robe is of blue brocade d'Argent, the skirt is ample, and falls in graceful draperies nearly over the feet, like that of the Lady Violante of Milan; it has a train, and is low in the corsage, fitting tight to the shape, and having long tight sleeves. Over this garb is the surcoat worn at that period, composed of white fur, and closed down the front with a broad band of jewels. A jewelled girdle is also to be seen at each side over the hips, where it was worn at that day, in preference to round the waist. Odette wears rings on the fore fingers of both hands, and her left arm supports a bible or missal, fastened with rich gold clasps. Her shoes are white. This portrait is taken from an illuminated MS. of that period, preserved in the library of the king of France.

THE HANDSOME MAN'S COMPLAINT.

Prince Albert Saxe Gotha's the plague of my life,

In my mind he engenders perpetual strife,

For handsome he is, and though handsome I am,
The ladies WILL say, HE's the handsomest man.

I once took a young lady out for a walk,

She seemed greatly pleased, and did both laugh and talk,
Till Prince Albert rode by, when she let go my hand,
And said " HE is the handsomest man in the land:

So noble, so graceful," she breathless exclaimed,
"Oh! do you not think he's justly so named?"
What mortification! Till then, pretty Anne,
I am certain, had thought ME the handsomest man.

Very soon after this to a party I went,
And on conquest of hearts I was fully intent:
At my toilet bestowed more than USUAL care,
Feeling sure I should captivate every one there.

I entered the room, and expected to see

In a moment all eyes would be fixed upon me;
And in fancy could hear, 'neath some delicate fan,

"Why, do you not think him a right handsome young man?"

But I passed unobserved, for the prince was their theme,
They declared one so handsome they'd ne'er before seen;
Although they'd known me, and I CERTAINLY am

A pleasing, a GRACEFUL, a HANDSOME young man.

Oh, Prince Albert, indeed, is the plague of my life,
He causes chagrin, and vexation, and strife:
For handsome HE is, and THOUGH handsome I am,
The ladies wILL say HE's the handsomest man.

ELIZA GUADA.

RE-INTERMENT OF THE EMPEROR NAPOLEON.

The Place de la Concorde afforded one of the most prominent, and certainly the most magnificent position in the whole line of the procession, presenting an animated appearance at an early hour. Strange to say, however, although so attractive and capable of affording a good view to at least a hundred thousand individuals, it did not contain, probably, above more than half that number: no doubt from the wish on the part of the public of being as near as possible to the starting point at Courbevoie, and, probably, with a view of catching a glimpse at various parts of the route. Two lofty columns at each end, surmounted by gilded eagles, and decorated with rich silk tri-colored flags, the eight colossal statues lately erected on each side, among which was one of War exactly in front of that representing Prudence. A profusion of tri-colored banners, a double file of National Guards, troops of the line and municipal cabalery, the newly-finished façade of the Chamber of Deputies at the further end, and the splendid statue of Immortality, on a pedestal, in front, all combined to render this spot truly admired.

The programme of the grand ceremonies of the day had announced that Messieurs the Peers and Deputies, &c., were expected to be in their places in the interior of the Invalides by 11 o'clock, and that private personages, munificently supplied with tickets were not to be later than 10. It was near noon when the crowd was still waiting to be admitted at the great gate of the Invalides. The authorities, military and civil, who did the honors of the Hôtel, were still squabbling with the impatient sufferers from the intense cold, and the poles and scaffoldings which composed the skeleton of what was, but never did form, a sort of funeral arch, in the place of the usual iron gateway, were still bare, or nearly so. There were certainly most unaccountable streamings of black velvet studded with silver-paper bees, in the wind, but the nature of decoration this was intended to form upon the abovementioned scaffolding was perfectly incomprehensible to the spectators. The cannon, which was fired every quarter of an hour, had for some time past announced the departure of the funeral procession from Courbevoie, and it was in the general expectation that the funeral ceremony would not be very long before it took place, that I found my way at last into the interior of the Invalides. The great court of the Hotel had, certainly, a striking effect when one first entered, and I cast a hasty coup d'œil around me. The amphitheatre of steps that descended from the gallery to the ground, the black trappings which were hung round the upper gallery, and the general effect of the archways covered with festoons and garlands, were imposing; but a nearer look betrayed the coarse painting of the canvas scene that covered the usual walls of the court, the wood-work of which was in many places badly joined, and convinced me that the decorations had been patched together in haste and without taste. In the interior of the chapel the whole system of embellishment had been the same. The coup d'œil was admirable, but the painted canvas representing trophies, shields, and laurel crowns, enwreathing swords, which was suspended between each archway; the great porch built in the same scenic fashion at the entrance of the beautiful chapel, of painted archways and columns, and the coarsely carved and gilt candelabra that lined the whole length of the nave, to say nothing of two great machines at each side of the entrance to the dome, which looked like whitewashed fonts in a country church mounted upon a stage pedestal, and of which it was impossible to devise the meaning or purpose, unless by supposing that haste or negligence had left them incomplete; all this, when one looked again, was poor, tasteless, mesquin, mean. If one might use such terms on so solemn an occasion, I should say that the comedy was ill got up, the scenery bad, and the piece deserved damning. In fact, a Frenchman near me expressed himself nearly in the same sentiments, by saying, "Ah, bah! On aurait siffleé ça à l'opera." The truth is, all this was unworthy of the solemn occasion, the national pomp, that better taste might have exhibited, in the name of a great nation. Nevertheless, after having done justice to the stage managers and scene painters on this occasion, I ought to add that thanks to the splendid vista of the chapel, the effect, taken as a whole, and as a piece of scenic effect, was fine. The great altar, which generally separates the long line of nave from the dome, had been removed, and from the entrance to the other extremity of the dome the view was an uninterrupted one. The space under the dome arranged as a chapelle ardente, was filled with a blaze of light from the thousands and tens of thousands of wax lights that hung in lustres or lined the walls, until the extremity of this part of the chapel looked one great wall of fire. In the midst was erected the catafalque upon which the coffin was to be placed, and stands, hung with black drapery, rose tier above tier for the reception of all the different corps de l'état, the members of the two Chambers, and the Royal Family. Along the nave, the archways, both below and above, had been filled with tribunes for spectators, and were decorated with black velvet draperies, studded with the different Napoleonic emblems. The real sight worth seeing after all, the only imposing sight was in fact, the crowd in mourning dresses that filled the chapel, first along the archway in the nave, then in the tribunes of the dome as they became crowded with the representatives of the different

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