At night, after Christina had taken the most solemn step of abandoning the community of Luther for the Church of Rome, at Innsbruck, in Tyrol, the Archduke entertained her with a masque and dancing. Nor was this all, for there was a play represented before her that evening, the moral of which, it is said, was not of the cleanest, and upon which the illustrious convert made this comment: “Well, gentlemen, it is but proper that you should entertain me with a comedy to-night, since I amused you with a farce this morning”--a profane remark, concerning which the great Leibnitz remarks that, if it was really uttered, it proved that “Christina was not mindful of--decorum!” CHAPTER X ROYALTY IN DISGUISE To avoid the dangers inseparable from war, or to seek a temporary concealment in political troubles, has caused many a monarch in times past to assume the most varied disguises, the circumstances connected with which forming some of the most romantic episodes in history. In “Candide, or the Optimist,” Voltaire tells in an admirable manner how eight travellers meet in an obscure inn, and some of them with not even sufficient money to pay for a scurvy dinner; but in the course of conversation they are discovered to be eight monarchs in Europe, who had been deprived of their crowns. And what gave point to this satire was that these eight monarchs were not the fictitious majesties of the poetic brain--“imperial shadows like those that appeared to Macbeth,” but living monarchs who were wandering at that moment about the world. If tradition be true, there is Alfred the disguised minstrel in the Danish camp; and, later on, romance tells how the last of the Saxon kings lived and died disguised as a hermit in a cell at Chester. Another traditionary story informs us that the Emperor Henry V., husband of Matilda of England, did not die at the time he was said to have done so; but fled, disguised “in a woollen garment,” to England, where, at Westchester, he lived for ten years as the hermit “God’s Call.” And it is further told how the Empress Matilda, when hotly pursued by Stephen’s troops at Devizes, made her escape by personating a corpse when wrapped in grave clothes, and placed in a coffin. She was borne on the shoulders of some of her trusty partisans to Gloucester, where, it is said, she arrived “faint and weary with long fasting and mortal terror.” It is not, however, with disguise as associated with the vicissitudes of royalty that we are concerned, but rather as adopted by sovereigns for some freak, or fancy.