kicked her. The cultured prince, inflamed by wine and
anger, slapped my lady's face at the royal dinner table before the whole
court.

Riehl, in his _History of the Physical Development of the German
People_, devotes one chapter to the gradual "Divergence of the Sexes."
He makes the interesting suggestion, which reflection and observation
seem to confirm, that three hundred years ago woman was far more
masculine in her personal appearance, even in her anatomy and physical
strength, than now. He calls attention to the almost manly expression
and cast of features shown in the portraits of bygone famous beauties
like Marie Stuart and others.

Louisa of Orange-Nassau, wife of the great elector, Frederick William
(1640-1688), was a remarkable woman. She was self-poised, loving,
earnest, virtuous, pious in a helpful, practical fashion, founding
girls' schools, hospitals, and similar institutions of ethical and civic
value, and interested in every department of her husband's manifold
activity. When he travelled, she journeyed with him, carefully watching
to keep away from him both draughts and bores. On a long military march
of four hundred miles from Berlin to the relief of Konigsberg she
accompanied him, sharing all his hardships without a complaint.

Frederick William built for his wife a pretty country place north of
Berlin, which they called _Oranienburg_ (Orange Burg). Louisa made this
place a genuine Dutch homestead. Much of Frederick William's youth was
spent in Holland, where he wooed and won his bride. Theirs was a true
love marriage. Louisa bore him two sons; the elder died young, the
younger, Frederick, became the first king of Prussia.

Frederick William was often in a state of ebullition, and many women
would have found life with him a hell upon earth. But Louisa of Orange
had love, patience, and great good sense. She was happy in his love, and
he in hers. "At the moment of her death," says Carlyle, "when speech had
fled, he felt from her hand, which lay in his, three slight, slight
pressures. 'Farewell!' thrice mutely spoken in that manner, not easy to
forget in this world."

Reasons of state compelled the elector to contract another marriage. His
second wife, Dorothea of Holstein, was a most practical housewife and
gardener. Under her energetic direction the palace shone like a new pin.
She took a great interest in the planting of trees. Unter den Linden,
the now fashionable avenue of Berlin, was, primari