For many a century the star of the Guelphs seemed set. The "viri nobiles, egregiæ libertatis" of ancient times counted for little in the game of European politics. Early in the present century the elder line, that of Wolfenbüttel, brought forth one more hero of the old Guelph type--that brave Brunswicker who, in the great war of German liberation, by his brilliant gallantry quickened all Young Germany to a more fiery patriotism. The younger line, that of Lüneburg, found a new sphere of action opened to it in this country, and now lives to perpetuate, on a Throne even greater than that which "the Generous" and "the Lion" had filled, that "Dynastia Guelphicorum Inter Flores lilium, Inter Illustres Illustrissimus Eorum memoria in Benedictione." Under the new aspect of things, if, fortunately, Henry the Lion's bold bent for war be wanting, his characteristic care for the welfare of his subjects has been retained; and it is a satisfaction to know, in a reign that has happily outlived its Jubilee, that there is no longer occasion for that sorrowful plaint to which, in the warlike days of the race, Countess Itha gave expression--the wife of the great-grandson of Eticho II., of Ammergau--that "No Guelph was ever known to live to a great age." IV.--ABOUT A PORTRAIT AT WINDSOR.[6] In Windsor Castle, in the Vandyke Room, there is a portrait which has puzzled a good many visitors. It is an undoubted Vandyke; it shows a pretty face--a trifle sensual, perhaps--but who the lady may have been whose features it immortalises, nobody seems to be able to tell. "Somebody"--"Somebody connected with Charles II."--"Some French lady"--are guesses rather than information offered. "Murray" used to call the lady by her right name. But lately, for some reason or other, she has in his description become transformed into "Madame de St. Croix," which probably sounds "safer." Formerly she figured as "Beatrix de Cusance, Princesse de Cantecroix," which was correct--unless the more illustrious title be given her which for a few brief hours she legitimately bore, though never actually crowned, that of "Duchess of Lorraine." There is a good deal of history graven in those smiling features--curious, changeful history of their bearer's own life--and history, more important, of nations, on which she exercised a decisive influence. It was thinking of her, not least, that Richelieu penned those truthfully reproachful words:--"Les plus grandes et les plus importantes menées qui se fassent en ce royaume sont ordinairement commencées et conduites par des femmes." Without her and Madame de Chevreuse--perhaps, it would be too much to say that France might still be without that Lorraine of which she felt it so great a hardship to lose a portion in 1871; but certainly the tide of events during the past three centuries would have taken a very different course from that which it actually did--different, probably, for the better.