erself to his control. With such a character, and such anticipations,
she had become passionately attached to the young Duke of Lorraine, who
was eight years her senior, and who had for some years been one of the
most brilliant ornaments of her father's court.

The duchy of Lorraine was one of the most extensive and opulent of the
minor States of the German empire. Admirably situated upon the Rhine and
the Meuse, and extending to the sea, it embraced over ten thousand
square miles, and contained a population of over a million and a half.
The duke, Francis Stephen, was the heir of an illustrious line, whose
lineage could be traced for many centuries. Germany, France and Spain,
united, had not sufficient power to induce Maria Theresa to reject
Francis Stephen, the grandson of her father's sister, the playmate of
her childhood, and now her devoted lover, heroic and fascinating, for
the Spanish Carlos, of whom she knew little, and for whom she cared
less. Ambition also powerfully operated on the very peculiar mind of
Maria Theresa. She had much of the exacting spirit of Elizabeth,
England's maiden queen, and was emulous of supremacy which no one would
share. She, in her own right, was to inherit the crown of Austria, and
Francis Stephen, high-born and noble as he was, and her recognized
husband, would still be her subject. She could confer upon him dignity
and power, retaining a supremacy which even he could never reach.

The emperor was fully aware of the attachment of his daughter to
Francis, of her inflexible character; and even when pretending to
negotiate for her marriage with Carlos, he was conscious that it was all
a mere pretense, and that the union could never be effected. The British
minister at Vienna saw very clearly the true state of affairs, and when
the emperor was endeavoring to intimidate England by the menace that he
would unite the crowns of Spain and Austria by uniting Maria and Carlos,
the minister wrote to his home government as follows:

"Maria Theresa is a princess of the highest spirit; her father's losses
are her own. She reasons already; she enters into affairs; she admires
his virtues, but condemns his mismanagement; and is of a temper so
formed for rule and ambition, as to look upon him as little more than
her administrator. Notwithstanding this lofty humor by day, she sighs
and pines all night for her Duke of Lorraine. If she sleeps, it is only
to dream of him; if she wakes, it is but to talk