heads
were not indifferent to her strength and nobility of character, but
the stupid old King who succeeded her son to the throne of France got
it into his head that she was harbouring agents in Corsica to excite
rebellion, and he thereupon had a complaint lodged against her. Pius
VII., who knew Madame Mere, sent his secretary to see her about this
supposed intrigue. She listened to what the representative of the Pope
had to say, and then with stern dignity began her reply:--

"Monseigneur, I do not possess the millions with which they credit me,
but let M. de Blacas tell his master Louis XVIII. that if I did, I
should not employ them to foment troubles in Corsica, or to gain
adherents for my son in France, since he already has enough; I should
use them to fit out a fleet to liberate him from St. Helena, where the
most infamous perfidy is holding him captive."

Then she bowed reverently and left the room.

This was indeed a slashing rebuff both to Pius VII. and the "Most
Christian King."

Another very good story is told of this extraordinary old lady by H.
Noel Williams. It appears she persisted after the fall of the Empire
in using the Imperial arms on her carriage.

"Why should I discontinue this symbol?" she asked. "Europe bowed to
the dust before my son's arms for ten years, and her sovereigns have
not forgotten it."

On one occasion she was out driving when a block occurred. Two
Austrian officers, who were riding past, boldly looked into the
carriage. Madame Mere, observing the Austrian uniform, to which she
had an aversion, was excited to indignation, so letting down the
window she exclaimed to them, "What, gentlemen, is your pleasure? If
it is to see the mother of the Emperor Napoleon, here she is!" The
officers were naturally crestfallen. They respectfully saluted and
rode off. These stinging shots of hers were quite disturbing; they
always went home, and reached too far for the comfort of her son's
persecutors.

Her letter to the allied sovereigns who met at Aix-la-Chapelle is one
of the most trenchant indictments that has ever been penned. Its
logic, its brave, though courteous, appeal for justice and
magnanimity, and above all the echo of motherly love which
characterises it, stamp it as a document worth cherishing. The last
paragraph will fascinate the imagination of generations yet to come,
and heavy judgment will be laid on those that were committing the
crime.

"Reasons of State," she says, "