History of King Charles the Second of England / Abbott, Jacob, 1803-1879

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by Jacob Abbott

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Title: History of King Charles II of England

Author: Jacob Abbott

Release Date: October, 2004  [EBook #6659]
[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
[This file was first posted on January 10, 2003]

Edition: 10

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, HISTORY OF KING CHARLES II OF ENGLAND ***




Mary Wampler, Tiffany Vergon, Charles Aldarondo, Charles Franks and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team.



HISTORY OF KING CHARLES THE SECOND OF ENGLAND.

BY JACOB ABBOTT.




PREFACE.



The author of this series has made it his special object to confine
himself very strictly, even in the most minute details which he records,
to historic truth. The narratives are not tales founded upon history,
but history itself, without any embellishment or any deviations from
the strict truth, so far as it can now be discovered by an attentive
examination of the annals written at the time when the events themselves
occurred. In writing the narratives, the author has endeavored to avail
himself of the best sources of information which this country affords;
and though, of course, there must be in these volumes, as in all
historical accounts, more or less of imperfection and error, there is
no intentional embellishment. Nothing is stated, not even the most
minute and apparently imaginary details, without what was deemed good
historical authority. The readers, therefore, may rely upon the record
as the truth, and nothing but the truth, so far as an honest purpose
and a careful examination have been effectual in ascertaining it.




CONTENTS.



Chapter

   I. INFANCY

  II. PRINCE CHARLES'S MOTHER

 III. QUEEN HENRIETTA'S FLIGHT

  IV. ESCAPE OF THE CHILDREN

   V. THE PRINCE'S RECEPTION AT PARIS

  VI. NEGOTIATIONS WITH ANNE MARIA

 VII. THE ROYAL OAK OF BOSCOBEL

VIII. THE KING'S ESCAPE TO FRANCE

  IX. THE RESTORATION

   X. THE MARRIAGE

  XI. CHARACTER AND REIGN

 XII. CONCLUSION




CHAPTER I.

INFANCY.



King Charles the Second was the son and successor of King Charles the
First. These two are the only kings of the name of Charles that have
appeared, thus far, in the line of English sovereigns. Nor is it very
probable that there will soon be another. The reigns of both these
monarchs were stained and tarnished with many vices and crimes, and
darkened by national disasters of every kind, and the name is thus
connected with so many painful associations in the minds of men, that
it seems to have been dropped, by common consent, in all branches of
the royal family.

The reign of Charles the First, as will be seen by the history of his
life in this series, was characterized by a long and obstinate contest
between the king and the people, which brought on, at last, a civil
war, in which the king was defeated and taken prisoner, and in the end
beheaded on a block, before one of his own palaces. During the last
stages of this terrible contest, and before Charles way himself taken
prisoner, he was, as it were, a fugitive and an outlaw in his own
dominions. His wife and family were scattered in various foreign lands,
his cities and castles were in the hands of his enemies, and his oldest
son, the prince Charles, was the object of special hostility. The
prince incurred, therefore, a great many dangers, and suffered many
heavy calamities in his early years. He lived to see these calamities
pass away, and, after they were gone, he enjoyed, so far as his own
personal safety and welfare were concerned, a tranquil and prosperous
life. The storm, however, of trial and suffering which enveloped the
evening of his father's days, darkened the morning of his own. The
life of Charles the First was a river rising gently, from quiet springs,
in a scene of verdure and sunshine, and flowing gradually into rugged
and gloomy regions, where at last it falls into a terrific abyss,
enveloped in darkness and storms. That of Charles the Second, on the
other hand, rising in the wild and rugged mountains where the parent
stream was engulfed, commences its course by leaping frightfully from
precipice to precipice, with turbid and foaming waters, but emerges
at last into a smooth and smiling land, and flows through it
prosperously to the sea.

Prince Charles's mother, the wife of Charles the First, was a French
princess. Her name was Henrietta Maria. She was unaccomplished,
beautiful, and very spirited woman. She was a Catholic, and the English
people, who were very decided in their hostility to the Catholic faith,
were extremely jealous of her. They watched all her movements with the
utmost suspicion. They were very unwilling that an heir to the crown
should arise in her family. The animosity which they felt against her
husband the king, which was becoming every day more and more bitter,
seemed to be doubly inveterate and intense toward her. They published
pamphlets, in which they called her a daughter of Heth, a Canaanite,
and an idolatress, and expressed hopes that from such a worse than
pagan stock no progeny should ever spring.

Henrietta was at this time--1630--twenty-one years of age, and had
been married about four years. She had had one son, who had died a few
days after his birth. Of course, she did not lead a very happy life
in England. Her husband the king, like the majority of the English
people, was a Protestant, and the difference was a far more important
circumstance in those days than it would be now; though even now a
difference in religious faith, on points _which either party deems
essential_, is, in married life, an obstacle to domestic happiness,
which comes to no termination, and admits of no cure. If it were
possible for reason and reflection to control the impetuous impulses
of youthful hearts, such differences of religious faith would be
regarded, where they exist, as an insurmountable objection to a
matrimonial union.

The queen, made thus unhappy by religious dissensions with her husband,
and by the public odium of which she was the object, lived in
considerable retirement and seclusion at St. James's Palace, in
Westminster, which is the western part of London. Here her second son,
the subject of this history, was born, in May, 1630, which was ten
years after the landing of the pilgrims on the Plymouth rock. The babe
was very far from being pretty, though he grew up at last to be quite
a handsome man. King Charles was very much pleased at the birth of his
son. He rode into London the next morning at the head of a long train
of guards and noble attendants, to the great cathedral church of St.
Paul's, to render thanks publicly to God for the birth of his child
and the safety of the queen. While this procession was going through
the streets, all London being out to gaze upon it, the attention of
the vast crowd was attracted to the appearance of a star glimmering
faintly in the sky at midday. This is an occurrence not very uncommon,
though it seldom, perhaps, occurs when it has so many observers to
witness it. The star was doubtless Venus, which, in certain
circumstances, is often bright enough to be seen when the sun is above
the horizon. The populace of London, however, who were not in those
days very profound astronomers, regarded the shining of the star as
a supernatural occurrence altogether, and as portending the future
greatness and glory of the prince whose natal day it thus unexpectedly
adorned.

Preparations were made for the baptism of the young prince in July.
The baptism of a prince is an important affair, and there was one
circumstance which gave a peculiar interest to that of the infant
Charles. The Reformation had not been long established in England, and
this happened to be the first occasion on which an heir to the English
crown had been baptized since the Liturgy of the English Church had
been arranged. There is a chapel connected with the palace of St.
James, as is usual with royal palaces in Europe, and even, in fact,
with the private castles and mansions of the higher nobility. The
baptism took place there. On such occasions it is usual for certain
persons to appear as sponsors, as they are called, who undertake to
answer for the safe and careful instruction of the child in the
principles of the Christian faith. This is, of course, mainly a form,
the real function of the sponsors being confined, as it would appear,
to making magnificent presents to their young godchild, in
acknowledgment of the distinguished honor conferred upon them by their
designation to the office which they hold. The sponsors, on this
occasion, were certain royal personages in France, the relatives of
the queen. They could not appear personally, and so they appointed
proxies from among the higher nobility of England, who appeared at the
baptism in their stead, and made the presents to the child. One of
these proxies was a duchess, whose gift was a jewel valued at a sum
in English money equal to thirty thousand dollars.

The oldest son of a king of England receives the title of Prince of
Wales; and there was an ancient custom of the realm, that an infant
prince of Wales should be under the care, in his earliest years, of
a Welsh nurse, so that the first words which he should learn to speak
might be the vernacular language of his principality. Such a nurse was
provided for Charles. Rockers for his cradle were appointed, and many
other officers of his household, all the arrangements being made in
a very magnificent and sumptuous manner. It is the custom in England
to pay fees to the servants by which a lady or gentleman is attended,
even when a guest in private dwellings; and some idea may be formed
of the scale on which the pageantry of this occasion was conducted,
from the fact that one of the lady sponsors who rode to the palace in
the queen's carriage, which was sent for her on this occasion, paid
a sum equal to fifty dollars each to six running footmen who attended
the carriage, and a hundred dollars to the coachman; while a number
of knights who came on horseback and in armor to attend upon the
carriage, as it moved to the palace, received each a gratuity of two
hundred and fifty dollars. The state dresses on the occasion of this
baptism were very costly and splendid, being of white satin trimmed
with crimson.

The little prince was thus an object of great attention at the very
commencement of his days, His mother had his portrait painted, and
sent it to _her_ mother in France. She did not, however, in the letters
which accompanied the picture, though his mother, praise the beauty
of her child. She said, in fact, that he was so ugly that she was
ashamed of him, though his size and plumpness, she added, atoned for
the want of beauty. And then he was so comically serious and grave in
the expression of his countenance! the queen said she verily believed
that he was wiser than herself.

As the young prince advanced in years, the religious and political
difficulties in the English nation increased, and by the time that he
had arrived at an age when he could begin to receive impressions from
the conversation and intercourse of those around him, the Parliament
began to be very jealous of the influence which his mother might exert.
They were extremely anxious that he should be educated a Protestant,
and were very much afraid that his mother would contrive to initiate
him secretly into the ideas and practices of the Catholic faith.

She insisted that she did not attempt to do this, and perhaps she did
not; but in those days it was often considered right to make false
pretensions and to deceive, so far as this was necessary to promote
the cause of true religion. The queen did certainly make some efforts
to instill Catholic principles into the minds of some of her children;
for she had other children after the birth of Charles. She gave a
daughter a crucifix one day, which is a little image of Christ upon
the cross, made usually of ivory, or silver, or gold, and also a rosary,
which is a string of beads, by means of which the Catholics are assisted
to count their prayers. Henrietta gave these things to her daughter
secretly, and told her to hide them in her pocket, and taught her how
to use them. The Parliament considered such attempts to influence the
minds of the royal children as very heinous sins, and they made such
arrangements for secluding the young prince Charles from his mother,
and putting the others under the guidance of Protestant teachers and
governors, as very much interfered with Henrietta's desires to enjoy
the society of her children. Since England was a Protestant realm, a
Catholic lady, in marrying an English king, ought not to have expected,
perhaps, to have been allowed to bring up her children in her own
faith; still, it must have been very hard for a mother to be forbidden
to teach her own children what she undoubtedly believed was the only
possible means of securing for them the favor and protection of Heaven.

There is in London a vast storehouse of books, manuscripts, relics,
curiosities, pictures, and other memorials of by-gone days, called the
British Museum. Among the old records here preserved are various letters
written by Henrietta, and one or two by Charles, the young prince,
during his childhood. Here is one, for instance, written by Henrietta
to her child, when the little prince was but eight years of age, chiding
him for not being willing to take his medicine. He was at that time
under the charge of Lord Newcastle.

"CHARLES,--I am sorry that I must begin my first letter with chiding
you, because I hear that you will not take phisicke, I hope it was
onlie for this day, and that to-morrow you will do it for if you will
not, I must come to you, and _make_ you take it, for it is for your
health. I have given order to mi Lord of Newcastle to send mi word
to-night whether you will or not. Therefore I hope you will not give
me the paines to goe; and so I rest, your affectionate mother,
                                       HENRIETTE MARIE."

The letter was addressed

"To MI DEARE SONNE the Prince."

The queen must have taken special pains with this her first letter to
her son, for, with all its faults of orthography, it is very much more
correct than most of the epistles which she attempted to write in
English. She was very imperfectly acquainted with the English language,
using, as she almost always did, in her domestic intercourse, her own
native tongue.

Time passed on, and the difficulties and contests between King Charles
and his people and Parliament became more and more exciting and
alarming. One after another of the king's most devoted and faithful
ministers was arrested, tried, condemned, and beheaded, notwithstanding
all the efforts which their sovereign master could make to save them.
Parties were formed, and party spirit ran very high. Tumults were
continually breaking out about the palaces, which threatened the
personal safety of the king and queen. Henrietta herself was a special
object of the hatred which these outbreaks expressed. The king himself
was half distracted by the overwhelming difficulties of his position.
Bad as it was in England, it was still worse in Scotland. There was
an actual rebellion there, and the urgency of the danger in that quarter
was so great that Charles concluded to go there, leaving the poor queen
at home to take care of herself and her little ones as well as she
could, with the few remaining means of protection yet left at her
disposal.

There was an ancient mansion, called Oatlands, not very far from London,
where the queen generally resided during the absence of her husband.
It was a lonely place, on low and level ground, and surrounded by moats
filled with water, over which those who wished to enter passed by draw
bridges. Henrietta chose this place for her residence because she
thought she should be safer there from mobs and violence. She kept the
children all there except the Prince of Wales, who was not allowed to
be wholly under her care. He, how ever, often visited his mother, and
she sometimes visited him.

During the absence of her husband, Queen Henrietta was subjected to
many severe and heavy trials. Her communications with him were often
interrupted and broken. She felt a very warm interest in the prosperity
and success of his expedition, and sometimes the tidings she received
from him encouraged her to hope that all might yet be well. Here, for
instance, is a note which she addressed one day to an officer who had
sent her a letter from the king, that had come enclosed to him. It is
written in a broken English, which shows how imperfectly the foreign
lady had learned the language of her adopted country. They who
understand the French language will be interested in observing that
most of the errors which the writer falls into are those which result
naturally from the usages of her mother tongue.

_Queen Henrietta to Sir Edward Nicholas_.

"MAISTRE NICHOLAS,--I have reseaved your letter, and that you send me
from the king, which writes me word he as been vere well reseaved in
Scotland; that both the armi and the people have shewed a creat joy
to see the king, and such that theay say was never seen before. Pray
God it may continue.
                                   Your friend, HENRIETTE MARIE R."

At one time during the king's absence in Scotland the Parliament
threatened to take the queen's children all away from her, for fear,
as they said, that she would make papists of them. This danger alarmed
and distressed the queen exceedingly. She declared that she did not
intend or desire to bring up her children in the Catholic faith. She
knew this was contrary to the wish of the king her husband, as well
as of the people of England. In order to diminish the danger that the
children would be taken away, she left Oatlands herself, and went to
reside at other palaces, only going occasionally to visit her children.
Though she was thus absent from them in person, her heart was with
them all the time, and she was watching with great solicitude and
anxiety for any indications of a design on the part of her enemies to
come and take them away.

At last she received intelligence that an armed force was ordered to
assemble one night in the vicinity of Oatlands to seize her children,
under the pretext that the queen was herself forming plans for removing
them out of the country and taking them to France. Henrietta was a
lady of great spirit and energy, and this threatened danger to her
children aroused all her powers. She sent immediately to all the friends
about her on whom she could rely, and asked them to come, armed and
equipped, and with as many followers as they could muster, to the park
at Oatlands that night. There were also then in and near London a
number of officers of the army, absent from their posts on furlough.
She sent similar orders to these. All obeyed the summons with eager
alacrity. The queen mustered and armed her own household, too, down
to the lowest servants of the kitchen. By these means quite a little
army was collected in the park at Oatlands, the separate parties coming
in, one after another, in the evening and night. This guard patrolled
the grounds till morning, the queen herself animating them by her
presence and energy. The children, whom the excited mother was thus
guarding, like a lioness defending her young, were all the time within
the mansion, awaiting in infantile terror some dreadful calamity, they
scarcely knew what, which all this excitement seemed to portend.

The names and ages of the queen's children at this time were as follows:

Charles, prince of Wales, the subject of this story, eleven.

Mary, ten. Young as she was, she was already married, having been
espoused a short time before to William, prince of Orange, who was one
year older than herself.

James, duke of York, seven. He became afterward King James II.

Elizabeth, six.

Henry, an infant only a few months old.

The night passed away without any attack, though a considerable force
assembled in the vicinity, which was, however, soon after disbanded.
The queen's fears were, nevertheless, not allayed. She began to make
arrangements for escaping from the kingdom in ease it should become
necessary to do so. She sent a certain faithful friend and servant to
Portsmouth with orders to get some vessels ready, so that she could
fly there with her children and embark at a moment's notice, if these
dangers and alarms should continue.

She did not, however, have occasion to avail herself of these
preparations. Affairs seemed to take a more favorable turn. The king
came back from Scotland. He was received by his people, on his arrival,
with apparent cordiality and good will. The queen was, of course,
rejoiced to welcome him home, and she felt relieved and protected by
his presence. The city of London, which had been the main seat of
disaffection and hostility to the royal family, began to show symptoms
of returning loyalty and friendly regard. In reciprocation for this,
the king determined on making a grand entry into the city, to pay a
sort of visit to the authorities. He rode, on this occasion, in a
splendid chariot of state, with the little prince by his side. Queen
Henrietta came next, in an open carriage of her own, and the other
children, with other carriages, followed in the train. A long cortege
of guards and attendants, richly dressed and magnificently mounted,
preceded and followed the royal family, while the streets were lined
with thousands of spectators, who waved handkerchiefs and banners, and
shouted God save the king! In the midst of this scene of excitement
and triumph, Henrietta rode quietly along, her anxieties relieved, her
sorrows and trials ended, and her heart bounding with happiness and
hope. She was once more, as she conceived, reunited to her husband and
her children, and reconciled to the people of her realm. She thought
her troubles were over Alas! they had, on the contrary, scarcely begun.




CHAPTER II.

PRINCE CHARLES'S MOTHER.



The indications and promises of returning peace and happiness which
gave Prince Charles's mother so much animation and hope after the
return of her husband from Scotland were all very superficial and
fallacious. The real grounds of the quarrel between the king and his
Parliament, and of the feelings of alienation and ill will cherished
toward the queen, were all, unfortunately, as deep and extensive as
ever; and the storm, which lulled treacherously for a little time,
broke forth soon afterward anew, with a frightful violence which it
was evident that nothing could withstand. This new onset of disaster
and calamity was produced in such a way that Henrietta had to reproach
herself with being the cause of its coming.

She had often represented to the king that, in her opinion, one main
cause of the difficulties he had suffered was that he did not act
efficiently and decidedly, and like a man, in putting down the
opposition manifested against him on the part of his subjects; and
now, soon after his return from Scotland, on some new spirit of
disaffection showing itself in Parliament, she urged him to act at
once energetically and promptly against it. She proposed to him to
take an armed force with him, and proceed boldly to the halls where
the Parliament was assembled, and arrest the leaders of the party who
were opposed to him. There were five of them who were specially
prominent. The queen believed that if these five men were seized and
imprisoned in the Tower, the rest would be intimidated and overawed,
and the monarch's lost authority and power would be restored again.

The king was persuaded, partly by the dictates of his own judgment,
and partly by the urgency of the queen, to make the attempt. The
circumstances of this case, so far as the action of the king was
concerned in them, are fully related in the history of Charles the
First. Here we have only to speak of the queen, who was left in a state
of great suspense and anxiety in her palace at Whitehall while her
husband was gone on his dangerous mission.

The plan of the king to make this irruption into the great legislative
assembly of the nation had been kept, so they supposed, a very profound
secret, lest the members whom he was going to arrest should receive
warning of their danger and fly. When the time arrived, the king bade
Henrietta farewell, saying that she might wait there an hour, and if
she received no ill news from him during that time, she might be sure
that he had been successful, and that he was once more master of his
kingdom. The queen remained in the apartment where the king had left
her, looking continually at the watch which she held before her, and
counting the minutes impatiently as the hands moved slowly on. She had
with her one confidential friend, the Lady Carlisle, who sat with her
and seemed to share her solicitude, though she had not been entrusted
with the secret. The time passed on. No ill tidings came; and at length
the hour fully expired, and Henrietta, able to contain herself no
longer, exclaimed with exultation, "Rejoice with me; the hour is gone.
From this time my husband is master of his realm. His enemies in
Parliament are all arrested before this time, and his kingdom is
henceforth his own."

It certainly is possible for kings and queens to have faithful friends,
but there are so many motives and inducements to falsehood and treachery
in court, that it is _not_ possible, generally, for them to distinguish
false friends from true. The Lady Carlisle was a confederate with some
of the very men whom Charles had gone to arrest. On receiving this
intimation of their danger, she sent immediately to the houses of
Parliament, which were very near at hand, and the obnoxious members
received warning in time to fly. The hour had indeed elapsed, but the
king had met with several unexpected delays, both in his preparations
for going, and on his way to the House of Commons, so that when at
last he entered, the members were gone. His attempt, however,
unsuccessful as it was, evoked a general storm of indignation and
anger, producing thus all the exasperation which was to have been
expected from the measure, without in any degree accomplishing its
end. The poor queen was overwhelmed with confusion and dismay when she
learned the result. She had urged her husband forward to an extremely
dangerous and desperate measure, and then by her thoughtless
indiscretion had completely defeated the end. A universal and utterly
uncontrollable excitement burst like a clap of thunder upon the country
as this outrage, as they termed it, of the king became known, and the
queen was utterly appalled at the extent and magnitude of the mischief
she had done.

The mischief was irremediable. The spirit of resentment and indignation
which the king's action had aroused, expressed itself in such tumultuous
and riotous proceedings as to render the continuance of the royal
family in London no longer safe. They accordingly removed up the river
to Hampton Court, a famous palace on the Thames, not many miles from
the city. There they remained but a very short time. The dangers which
beset them were evidently increasing. It was manifest that the king
must either give up what he deemed the just rights and prerogatives
of the crown, or prepare to maintain them by war. The queen urged him
to choose the latter alternative. To raise the means for doing this,
she proposed that she should herself leave the country, taking with
her, her jewels, and such other articles of great value as could be
easily carried away, and by means of them and her personal exertions,
raise funds and forces to aid her husband in the approaching struggle.

The king yielded to the necessity which seemed to compel the adoption
of this plan. He accordingly set off to accompany Henrietta to the
shore. She took with her the young Princess Mary; in fact, the
ostensible object of her journey was to convey her to her young husband,
the Prince of Orange, in Holland. In such infantile marriages as theirs,
it is not customary, though the marriage ceremony be performed, for
the wedded pair to live together till they arrive at years a little
more mature.

The queen was to embark at Dover. Dover was in those days the great
port of egress from England to the Continent. There was, and is still,
a great castle on the cliffs to guard the harbor and the town. These
cliffs are picturesque and high, falling off abruptly in chalky
precipices to the sea. Among them at one place is a sort of dell, by
which there is a gradual descent to the water. King Charles stood upon
the shore when Henrietta sailed away, watching the ship as it receded
from his view, with tears in his eyes. With all the faults,
characteristic of her nation, which Henrietta possessed, she was now
his best and truest friend, and when she was gone he felt that he was
left desolate and alone in the midst of the appalling dangers by which
he was environed.

The king went back to Hampton Court. Parliament sent him a request
that he would come and reside nearer to the capital, and enjoined upon
him particularly not to remove the young Prince of Wales. In the mean
time they began to gather together their forces, and to provide
munitions of war. The king did the same. He sent the young prince to
the western part of the kingdom, and retired himself to the northward,
to the city of York, which he made his head-quarters. In a word, both
parties prepared for war.

In the mean time, Queen Henrietta was very successful in her attempts
to obtain aid for her husband in Holland. Her misfortunes awakened
pity, with which, through her beauty, and the graces of her conversation
and address, there was mingled a feeling analogous to love. Then,
besides, there was something in her spirit of earnest and courageous
devotion to her husband in the hours of his calamity that won for her
a strong degree of admiration and respect.

There are no efforts which are so efficient and powerful in the
accomplishment of their end as those which a faithful wife makes to
rescue and save her husband. The heart, generally so timid, seems to
be inspired on such occasions with a preternatural courage, and the
arm, at other times so feeble and helpless, is nerved with unexpected
strength. Every one is ready to second and help such efforts, and she
who makes them is surprised at her success, and wonders at the extent
and efficiency of the powers which she finds herself so unexpectedly
able to wield.

The queen interested all classes in Holland in her plans, and by her
personal credit, and the security of her diamonds and rubies, she
borrowed large sums of money from the government, from the banks, and
from private merchants. The sums which she thus raised amounted to two
millions of pounds sterling, equal to nearly ten millions of dollars.
While these negotiations were going on she remained in Holland, with
her little daughter, the bride, under her care, whose education she
was carrying forward all the time with the help of suitable masters;
for, though married, Mary was yet a child. The little husband was going
on at the same time with his studies too.

Henrietta remained in Holland a year. She expended a part of her money
in purchasing military stores and supplies for her husband, and then
set sail with them, and with the money not expended, to join the king.
The voyage was a very extraordinary one. A great gale of wind began
to blow from the northeast soon after the ships left the port, which
increased in violence for nine days, until at length the sea was lashed
to such a state of fury that the company lost all hope of ever reaching
the land. The queen had with her a large train of attendants, both
ladies and gentlemen; and there were also in her suit a number of
Catholic priests, who always accompanied her as the chaplains and
confessors of her household. These persons had all been extremely sick,
and had been tied into their beds on account of the excessive rolling
of the ship, and their own exhaustion and helplessness. The danger
increased, until at last it became so extremely imminent that all the
self-possession of the passengers was entirely gone. In such protracted
storms, the surges of the sea strike the ship with terrific force, and
vast volumes of water fall heavily upon the decks, threatening instant
destruction--the ship plunging awfully after the shock, as if sinking
to rise no more. At such moments, the noble ladies who accompanied the
queen on this voyage would be overwhelmed with terror, and they filled
the cabins with their shrieks of dismay. All this time the queen herself
was quiet and composed. She told the ladies not to fear, for "queens
of England were never drowned."

At one time, when the storm was at its height, the whole party were
entirely overwhelmed with consternation and terror. Two of the ships
were engulfed and lost. The queen's company thought that their own was
sinking. They came crowding into the cabin where the priests were
lying, sick and helpless, and began all together to confess their sins
to them, in the Catholic mode, eager in these their last moments, as
they supposed, to relieve their consciences in any way from the burdens
of guilt which oppressed them. The queen herself did not participate
in these fears. She ridiculed the absurd confessions, and rebuked the
senseless panic to which the terrified penitents were yielding; and
whenever any mitigation of the violence of the gale made it possible
to do any thing to divert the minds of her company, she tried to make
amusement out of the odd and strange dilemmas in which they were
continually placed, and the ludicrous disasters and accidents which
were always befalling her servants and officers of state, in their
attempts to continue the etiquette and ceremony proper in attendance
upon a queen, and from which even the violence of such a storm, and
the imminence of such danger, could not excuse them. After a fortnight
of danger, terror, and distress, the ships that remained of the little
squadron succeeded in getting back to the port from which they had
sailed.

The queen, however, did not despair. After a few days of rest and
refreshment she set sail again, though it was now in the dead of winter.
The result of this second attempt was a prosperous voyage, and the
little fleet arrived in due time at Burlington, on the English coast,
where the queen landed her money and her stores. She had, however,
after all, a very narrow escape, for she was very closely pursued on
her voyage by an English squadron. They came into port the night after
she had landed, and the next morning she was awakened by the crashing
of cannon balls and the bursting of bomb shells in the houses around
her, and found, on hastily rising, that the village was under a
bombardment from the ships of her enemies. She hurried on some sort
of dress, and sallied forth with her attendants to escape into the
fields. This incident is related fully in the history of her husband,
Charles the First; but there is one circumstance, not there detailed,
which illustrates very strikingly that strange combination of mental
greatness and energy worthy of a queen, with a simplicity of affections
and tastes which we should scarcely expect in a child, that marked
Henrietta's character. She had a small dog. Its name was Mike. They
say it was an ugly little animal, too, in all eyes but her own. This
dog accompanied her on the voyage, and landed with her on the English
shore. On the morning, however, when she fled from her bed to escape
from the balls and bomb shells of the English ships, she recollected,
after getting a short distance from the house, that Mike was left
behind. She immediately returned, ran up to her chamber again, seized
Mike, who was sleeping unconsciously upon her bed, and bore the little
pet away from the scene of ruin which the balls and bursting shells
were making, all astonished, no doubt, at so hurried and violent an
abduction. The party gained the open fields, and seeking shelter in
a dry trench, which ran along the margin of a field, they crouched
there together till the commander of the ships was tired of firing.

The queen's destination was York, the great and ancient capital of the
north of England York was the head quarters of King Charles's army,
though he himself was not there at this time. As soon as news of the
queen's arrival reached York, the general in command there sent down
to the coast a detachment of two thousand men to escort the heroine,
and the stores and money which she had brought, to her husband's
capital. At the head of this force she marched in triumph across the
country, with a long train of ordnance and baggage wagons loaded with
supplies. There were six pieces of cannon, and two hundred and fifty
wagons loaded with the money which she had obtained in Holland. The
whole country was excited with enthusiasm at the spectacle. The
enthusiasm was increased by the air and bearing of the queen, who,
proud and happy at this successful result of all her dangers and toils,
rode on horseback at the head of her army like a general, spoke frankly
to the soldiers, sought no shelter from the sun and rain, and ate her
meals, like the rest of the army, in a bivouac in the open field. She
had been the means, in some degree, of leading the king into his
difficulties, by the too vigorous measures she had urged him to take
in the case of the attempted parliamentary arrest. She seems to have
been determined to make that spirit of resolution and energy in her,
which caused the mischief then, atone for it by its efficient usefulness
now. She stopped on her march to summon and _take_ a town, which had
been hitherto in the hands of her husband's enemies, adding thus the
glory of a conquest to the other triumphs of the day.

In fact, the queen's heart was filled with pride and pleasure at this
conclusion of her enterprise, as is very manifest from the frequent
letters which she wrote to her husband at the time. The king's cause
revived. They gradually approached each other in the operations which
they severally conducted, until at last the king, after a great and
successful battle, set off at the head of a large escort to come and
meet his wife. They met in the vale of Keynton, near Edgehill, which
is on the southern borders of Warwickshire, near the center of the
island. The meeting was, of course, one of the greatest excitement and
pleasure. Charles praised the high courage and faithful affection of
his devoted wife, and she was filled with happiness in enjoying the
love and gratitude of her husband.

The pressure of outward misfortune and calamity has always the same
strong tendency as was manifest in this case to invigorate anew all
the ties of conjugal and domestic affection, and thus to create the
happiness which it seems to the world to destroy. In the early part
of Charles and Henrietta's married life, while every thing external
went smoothly and prosperously with them, they were very far from being
happy. They destroyed each other's peace by petty disputes and jars
about things of little consequence, in which they each had scarcely
any interest except a desire to carry the point and triumph over the
other. King Charles himself preserved a record of one of these disputes.
The queen had received, at the time of her marriage, certain estates,
consisting of houses and lands, the income of which was to be at her
disposal, and she wished to appoint certain treasurers to take charge
of this property. She had made out a list of these officers in
consultation with her mother. She gave this list to Charles one night,
after he was himself in bed. He said he would look at it in the morning,
but that she must remember that, by the marriage treaty, _he_ was to
appoint those officers. She said, in reply, that a part of those whom
she had named were English. The king said that he would look at the
paper in the morning, and such of the English names as he approved he
would confirm, but that he could not appoint any Frenchmen. The queen
answered that she and her mother had selected the men whom she had
named, and she would not have any body else. Charles rejoined that the
business was not either in her power or her mother's, and if she relied
on such an influence to effect her wishes, he would not appoint _any
body_ that she recommended. The queen was very much hurt at this, and
began to be angry. She said that if she could not put in whom she
chose, to have the care of her property, she would not have any such
property. He might take back her houses and lands, and allow her what
he pleased in money in its stead. Charles replied by telling her to
remember whom she was speaking to; that he could not be treated in
that manner; and then the queen, giving way to lamentations and tears,
said she was wretched and miserable; every thing that she wanted was
denied her, and whatever she recommended was refused on the very account
of her recommendation. Charles tried to speak, but she would not hear;
she went on with her lamentations and complaints, interrupted only by
her own sobs of passion and grief.

The reader may perhaps imagine that this must have been an extreme and
unusual instance of dissension between this royal pair; but it was
not. Cases of far greater excitement and violence sometimes occurred.
The French servants and attendants, whom the queen very naturally
preferred, and upon whom the king was as naturally inclined to look
with suspicion and ill will, were a continual source of disagreement
between them. At last, one afternoon, the king, happening to come into
that part of the palace at Whitehall where the queen's apartments were
situated, and which was called "the queen's side", found there a number
of her gentlemen and lady attendants in a great frolic, capering and
dancing in a way which the gay Frenchmen probably considered nothing
extraordinary, but which King Charles regarded as very irreverent and
unsuitable conduct to be witnessed in the presence of an English queen.
He was very much displeased. He advanced to Henrietta, took her by the
arm, conducted her sternly to his own side of the palace, brought her
into one of his own apartments, and locked the door. He then sent an
officer to direct all the French servants and attendants in the queen's
apartments to leave the palace immediately, and repair to Somerset
House, which was not far distant, and remain there till they received
further orders. The officer executed these commands in a very rough
manner. The French women shrieked and cried, and filled the court yard
of the palace with their clamor; but the officer paid no regard to
this noise. He turned them all out of the apartments, and locked the
doors after them.

The queen was rendered quite frantic with vexation and rage at these
proceedings. She flew to the windows to see and to bid farewell to her
friends, and to offer them expressions of her sympathy. The king pulled
her away, telling her to be quiet and submit, for he was determined
that they should go. The queen was determined that she would not submit.
She attempted to open the windows; the king held them down. Excited
now to a perfect frenzy in the struggle, she began to break out the
panes with her fist, while Charles exerted all his force to restrain
and confine her, by grasping her wrists and endeavoring to force her
away. What a contrast between the low and sordid selfishness and
jealousy evinced in such dissensions as these, and the lofty and heroic
devotedness and fidelity which this wife afterward evinced for her
husband in the harassing cares the stormy voyages, and the martial
exposures and fatigues which she endured for his sake! And yet,
notwithstanding this great apparent contrast, and the wide difference
in the estimation which mankind form of the conduct of the actor in
these different scenes, still we can see that it is, after all, the
impulse of the same lofty and indomitable spirit which acted in both.
The soul itself of the queen was not altered, nor even the character
of her action. The change was in the object and aim. In the one case
she was contending against the authority of a husband, to gain petty
and useless victories in domestic strife; in the other, the same spirit
and energy were expended in encountering the storms and tempests of
outward adversity to sustain her husband and protect her children.
Thus the change was a change of circumstances rather than of character.

The change was, however, none the less important on that account in
its influence on the king. It restored to him the affection and sympathy
of his wife, and filled his heart with inward happiness. It was a
joyous change to him, though it was produced by sufferings and sorrows;
for it was the very pressure of outward calamity that made his wife
his friend again, and restored his domestic peace. In how many thousand
instances is the same effect produced in a still more striking manner,
though on a less conspicuous stage, than in the case of this royal
pair! And how many thousands of outwardly prosperous families there
are, from which domestic peace and happiness are gone, and nothing but
the pressure from without of affliction or calamity can ever restore
them!

In consequence, in a great measure, of Henrietta's efficient help, the
king's affairs greatly improved, and, for a time, it seemed as if he
would gain an ultimate and final victory over his enemies, and recover
his lost dominion. He advanced to Oxford, and made his head quarters
there, and commenced the preparations for once more getting possession
of the palaces and fortresses of London. He called together a Parliament
at Oxford; some members came, and were regularly organized in the two
houses of Lords and Commons, while the rest remained at London and
continued their sittings there. Thus there were two governments, two
Parliaments, and two capitals in England, and the whole realm was rent
and distracted by the respective claims of these contending powers
over the allegiance of the subjects and the government of the realm.




CHAPTER III.

QUEEN HENRIETTA'S FLIGHT.



The brightening of the prospects in King Charles's affairs which was
produced, for a time, by the queen's vigorous and energetic action,
proved to be only a temporary gleam after all. The clouds and darkness
soon returned again, and brooded over his horizon more gloomily than
ever. The Parliament raised and organized new and more powerful armies.
The great Republican general, Oliver Cromwell, who afterward became
so celebrated as the Protector in the time of the Commonwealth, came
into the field, and was very successful in all his military plans.
Other Republican generals appeared in all parts of the kingdom, and
fought with great determination and great success, driving the armies
of the king before them wherever they moved, and reducing town after
town, and castle after castle, until it began to appear evident that
the whole kingdom would soon fall into their hands.

In the mean time, the family of the queen were very much separated
from each other, the children having been left in various places,
exposed each to different privations and dangers. Two or three of them
were in London in the hands of their father's enemies. Mary, the young
bride of the Prince of Orange, was in Holland. Prince Charles, the
oldest son, who was now about fourteen years of age, was at the head
of one of his father's armies in the west of England. Of course, such
a boy could not be expected to accomplish any thing as a general, or
even to exercise any real military command. He, however, had his place
at the head of a considerable force, and though there were generals
with him to conduct all the operations, and to direct the soldiery,
they were nominally the lieutenants of the prince, and acted, in all
cases, in their young commander's name. Their great duty was, however,
after all, to take care of their charge; and the army which accompanied
Charles was thus rather an escort and a guard, to secure his safety,
than a force from which any aid was to be expected in the recovery of
the kingdom.

The queen did every thing in her power to sustain the sinking fortunes
of her husband, but in vain. At length, in June, 1644, she found herself
unable to continue any longer such warlike and masculine exposures and
toils. It became necessary for her to seek some place of retreat, where
she could enjoy, for a time at least, the quiet and repose now essential
to the preservation of her life. Oxford was no longer a place of safety.
The Parliament had ordered her impeachment on account of her having
brought in arms and munitions of war from foreign lands, to disturb,
as they said, the peace of the kingdom. The Parliamentary armies were
advancing toward Oxford, and she was threatened with being shut up and
besieged there. She accordingly left Oxford, and went down to the sea-
coast to Exeter, a strongly fortified place, on a hill surrounded in
part by other hills, and very near the sea. There was a palace within
the walls, where the queen thought she could enjoy, for a time at
least, the needed seclusion and repose. The king accompanied her for
a few miles on her journey, to a place called Abingdon, which is in
the neighborhood of Oxford, and there the unhappy pair bade each other
farewell, with much grief and many tears. They never met again.

Henrietta continued her sorrowful journey alone. She reached the sea-
coast in the south-western part of England, where Exeter is situated,
and shut herself up in the place of her retreat. She was in a state
of great destitution, for Charles's circumstances were now so reduced
that he could afford her very little aid. She sent across the Channel
to her friends in France, asking them to help her. They sent immediately
the supplies that she needed--articles of clothing, a considerable sum
of money, and a nurse. She retained the clothing and the nurse, and
a little of the money; the rest she sent to Charles. She was, however,
now herself tolerably provided for in her new home, and here, a few
weeks afterward, her sixth child was born. It was a daughter.

The queen's long continued exertions and exposures had seriously
impaired her health, and she lay, feeble and low, in her sick chamber
for about ten days, when she learned to her dismay that one of the
Parliamentary generals was advancing at the head of his army to attack
the town which she had made her refuge. This general's name was Essex.
The queen sent a messenger out to meet Essex, asking him to allow her
to withdraw from the town before he should invest it with his armies.
She said that she was very weak and feeble, and unable to endure the
privations and alarms which the inhabitants of a besieged town have
necessarily to bear; and she asked his permission, therefore, to retire
to Bristol, till her health should be restored. Essex replied that he
could not give her permission to retire from Exeter; that, in fact,
the object of his coming there was to escort her to London, to bring
her before Parliament, to answer to the charge of treason.

The queen perceived immediately that nothing but the most prompt and
resolute action could enable her to escape the impending danger. She
had but little bodily strength remaining, but that little was stimulated
and renewed by the mental resolution and energy which, as is usual in
temperaments like hers, burned all the brighter in proportion to the
urgency of the danger which called it into action. She rose from her
sick bed, and began to concert measures for making her escape. She
confided her plan to three trusty friends, one gentleman, one lady,
and her confessor, who, as her spiritual teacher and guide, was her
constant companion. She disguised herself and these her attendants,
and succeeded in getting through the gates of Exeter without attracting
any observation. This was before Essex arrived. She found, however,
before she went far, that the van of the army was approaching, and she
had to seek refuge in a hut till her enemies had passed. She concealed
herself among some straw, her attendants seeking such other hiding
places as were at hand. It was two days before the bodies of soldiery
had all passed so as to make it safe for the queen to come out of her
retreat. The hut would seem to have been uninhabited, as the accounts
state that she remained all this time without food, though this seems
to be an almost incredible degree of privation and exposure for an
English queen. At any rate, she remained during all this time in a
state of great mental anxiety and alarm, for there were parties of
soldiery constantly going by, with a tumult and noise which kept her
in continual terror. Their harsh and dissonant voices, heard sometimes
in angry quarrels and sometimes in mirth, were always frightful. In
fact, for a helpless woman in a situation like that of the queen, the
mood of reckless and brutal mirth in such savages was perhaps more to
be dreaded than that of their anger.

At one time the queen overheard a party of these soldiers talking about
_her_. They knew that to get possession of the papist queen was the
object of their expedition. They spoke of getting her head and carrying
it to London, saying that Parliament had offered a reward of fifty
thousand crowns for it, and expressed the savage pleasure which it
would give them to secure this prize, by imprecations and oaths.

They did not, however, discover their intended victim. After the whole
army passed, the queen ventured cautiously forth from her retreat; the
little party got together again, and, still retaining their disguises,
moved on over the road by which the soldiers had come, and which was
in the shocking condition that a road and a country always exhibit
where an army has been marching. Faint and exhausted with sickness,
abstinence, and the effects of long continued anxiety and fear, the
queen had scarcely strength to go on. She persevered, however, and at
length found a second refuge in a cabin in a wood. She was going to
Plymouth, which is forty or fifty miles from Exeter, to the south-west,
and is the great port and naval station of the English, in that quarter
of the island.

She stopped at this cabin for a little time to rest, and to wait for
some other friends and members of her household from the palace in
Exeter to join her. Those friends were to wait until they found that
the queen succeeded in making her escape, and then they were to follow,
each in a different way, and all assuming such disguises as would most
effectually help to conceal them. There was one of the party whom it
must have been somewhat difficult to disguise. It was a dwarf, named
Geoffrey Hudson, who had been a long time in the service of Henrietta
as a personal attendant and messenger. It was the fancy of queens and
princesses in those days to have such personages in their train. The
oddity of the idea pleased them, and the smaller the dimensions of
such a servitor, the greater was his value. In modern times all this
is changed. Tall footmen now, in the families of the great, receive
salaries in proportion to the number of inches in their stature, and
the dwarfs go to the museums, to be exhibited, for a price, to the
common wonder of mankind.

The manner in which Sir Geoffrey Hudson was introduced into the service
of the queen was as odd as his figure. It was just after she was
married, and when she was about eighteen years old. She had two dwarfs
then already, a gentleman and a lady, or, as they termed it then, a
_cavalier_ and a _dame_, and, to carry out the whimsical idea, she had
arranged a match between these two, and had them married. Now there
was in her court at that time a wild and thoughtless nobleman, a great
friend and constant companion of her husband Charles the First, named
Buckingham. An account of his various exploits is given in our history
of Charles the First. Buckingham happened to hear of this Geoffrey
Hudson, who was then a boy of seven or eight years of age, living with
his parents somewhere in the interior of England. He sent for him, and
had him brought secretly to his house, and made an arrangement to have
him enter the service of the queen, without, however, saying any thing
of his design to her. He then invited the queen and her husband to
visit him at his palace; and when the time for luncheon arrived, one
day, he conducted the party into the dining saloon to partake of some
refreshment. There was upon the table, among other viands, what appeared
to be a large venison pie. The company gathered around the table, and
a servant proceeded to cut the pie, and on his breaking and raising
a piece of the crust, out stepped the young dwarf upon the table,
splendidly dressed and armed, and, advancing toward the queen, he
kneeled before her, and begged to be received into her train. Her
majesty was very much pleased with the addition itself thus made to
her household, as well as diverted by the odd manner in which her new
attendant was introduced into her service.

The youthful dwarf was then only eighteen inches high, and he continued
so until he was thirty years of age, when, to every body's surprise,
he began to grow. He grew quite rapidly, and, for a time, there was
a prospect that he would be entirely spoiled, as his whole value had
consisted thus far in his littleness. He attained the height of three
feet and a half, and there the mysterious principle of organic
expansion, the most mysterious and inexplicable, perhaps, that is
exhibited in all the phenomena of life, seemed to be finally exhausted,
and, though he lived to be nearly seventy years of age, he grew no
more.

Notwithstanding the bodily infirmity, whatever it may have been, which
prevented his growth, the dwarf possessed a considerable degree of
mental capacity and courage. He did not bear, however, very good-
naturedly, the jests and gibes of which he was the continual object,
from the unfeeling courtiers, who often took pleasure in teasing him
and in getting him into all sorts of absurd and ridiculous situations.
At last his patience was entirely exhausted, and he challenged one of
his tormentors, whose name was Crofts, to a duel. Crofts accepted the
challenge, and, being determined to persevere in his fun to the end,
appeared on the battle ground armed only with a squirt. This raised
a laugh, of course, but it did not tend much to cool the injured
Lilliputian's anger. He sternly insisted on another meeting, and with
real weapons. Crofts had expected to have turned off the whole affair
in a joke, but he found this could not be done; and public opinion
among the courtiers around him compelled him finally to accept the
challenge in earnest. The parties met on horseback, to put them more
nearly on an equality. They fought with pistols. Crofts was killed
upon the spot.

After this Hudson was treated with more respect. He was entrusted by
the queen with many commissions, and sometimes business was committed
to him which required no little capacity, judgment, and courage. He
was now, at the time of the queen's escape from Exeter, of his full
stature, but as this was only three and a half feet, he encountered
great danger in attempting to find his way out of the city and through
the advancing columns of the army to rejoin the queen. He persevered,
however, and reached her safely at last in the cabin in the wood. The
babe, not yet two weeks old, was necessarily left behind. She was left
in charge of Lady Morton, whom the queen appointed her governess. Lady
Morton was young and beautiful. She was possessed of great strength
and energy of character, and she devoted herself with her whole soul
to preserving the life and securing the safety of her little charge.

The queen and her party had to traverse a wild and desolate forest,
many miles in extent, on the way to Plymouth. The name of it was
Dartmoor Forest. Lonely as it was, however, the party was safer in it
than in the open and inhabited country, which was all disturbed and
in commotion, as every country necessarily is in time of civil war.
As the queen drew near to Plymouth, she found that, for some reason,
it would not be safe to enter that town, and so the whole party went
on, continuing their journey farther to the westward still.

Now there is one important sea-port to the westward of Plymouth which
is called Falmouth, and near it, on a high promontory jutting into the
sea, is a large and strong castle, called Pendennis Castle. This castle
was, at the time of the queen's escape, in the hands of the king's
friends, and she determined, accordingly, to seek refuge there. The
whole party arrived here safely on the 29th of June. They were all
completely worn out and exhausted by the fatigues, privations, and
exposures of their terrible journey.

The queen had determined to make her escape as soon as possible to
France. She could no longer be of any service to the king in England;
her resources were exhausted, and her personal health was so feeble
that she must have been a burden to his cause, and not a help, if she
had remained. There was a ship from Holland in the harbor. The Prince
of Orange, it will be recollected, who had married the queen's oldest
daughter, was a prince of Holland, and this vessel was under his
direction. Some writers say it was sent to Falmouth by him to be ready
for his mother-in-law, in case she should wish to make her escape from
England. Others speak of it as being there accidentally at this time.
However this may be, it was immediately placed at Queen Henrietta's
disposal, and she determined to embark in it on the following morning.
She knew very well that, as soon as Essex should have heard of her
escape, parties would be scouring the country in all directions in
pursuit of her, and that, although the castle where she had found a
temporary refuge was strong, it was not best to incur the risk of being
shut up and besieged in it.

She accordingly embarked, with all her company, on board the Dutch
ship on the very morning after her arrival, and immediately put to
sea. They made all sail for the coast of France, intending to land at
Dieppe. Dieppe is almost precisely east of Falmouth, two or three
hundred miles from it, up the English Channel. As it is on the other
side of the Channel, it would lie to the south of Falmouth, were it
not that both the French and English coasts trend here to the northward.

Some time before they arrived at their port, they perceived some ships
in the offing that seemed to be pursuing them. They endeavored to
escape, but their pursuers gained rapidly upon them, and at length
fired a gun as a signal for the queen's vessel to stop. The ball came
bounding over the water toward them, but did no harm. Of course there
was a scene of universal commotion and panic on board the queen's ship.
Some wanted to fire back upon the pursuers, some wished to stop and
surrender, and others shrieked and cried, and were overwhelmed with
uncontrollable emotions of terror.

In the midst of this dreadful scene of confusion, the queen, as was
usual with her in such emergencies, retained all her self-possession,
and though weak and helpless before, felt a fresh strength and energy
now, which the imminence itself of the danger seemed to inspire. She
was excited, it is true, as well as the rest, but it was, in her case,
the excitement of courage and resolution, and not of senseless terror
and despair. She ascended to the deck; she took the direct command of
the ship; she gave instructions to the pilot how to steer; and, though
there was a storm coming on, she ordered every sail to be set, that
the ship might be driven as rapidly as possible through the water. She
forbade the captain to fire back upon their pursuers, fearing that
such firing would occasion delay; and she gave distinct and positive
orders to the captain, that so soon as it should appear that all hope
of escape was gone, and that they must inevitably fall into the hands
of their enemies, he was to set fire to the magazine of gunpowder, in
order that they might all be destroyed by the explosion.

In the mean time all the ships, pursuers and pursued, were rapidly
nearing the French coast. The fugitives were hoping to reach their
port. They were also hoping every moment to see some friendly French
ships appear in sight to rescue them. To balance this double hope,
there was a double fear. There were their pursuers behind them, whose
shots were continually booming over the water, threatening them with
destruction, and there was a storm arising which, with the great press
of sail that they were carrying, brought with it a danger, perhaps,
more imminent still.

It happened that these hopes and fears were all realized, and nearly
at the same time. A shot struck the ship, producing a great shock, and
throwing all on board into terrible consternation. It damaged the
rigging, bringing down the rent sails and broken cordage to the deck,
and thus stopped the vessel's way. At the same moment some French
vessels came in sight, and, as soon as they understood the case, bore
down full sail to rescue the disabled vessel. The pursuers, changing
suddenly their pursuit to flight, altered their course and moved slowly
away. The storm, however, increased, and, preventing them from making
the harbor of Dieppe, drove them along the shore, threatening every
moment to dash them upon the rocks and breakers. At length the queen's
vessel succeeded in getting into a rocky cove, where they were sheltered
from the winds and waves, and found a chance to land. The queen ordered
out the boat, and was set ashore with her attendants on the rocks. She
climbed over them, wet as they were with the dashing spray, and slippery
with sea weed. The little party, drenched with the rain, and exhausted
and forlorn, wandered along the shore till they came to a little village
of fishermen's huts. The queen went into the first wretched cabin which
offered itself, and lay down upon the straw in the corner for rest and
sleep.

The tidings immediately spread all over the region that the Queen of
England had landed on the coast, and produced, of course, universal
excitement. The gentry in the neighborhood flocked down the next
morning, in their carriages, to offer Henrietta their aid. They supplied
her wants, invited her to their houses, and offered her their equipages
to take her wherever she should decide to go. What she wanted was
seclusion and rest. They accordingly conveyed her, at her request, to
the Baths of Bourbon, where she remained some time, until, in fact,
her health and strength were in some measure restored. Great personages
of state were sent to her here from Paris, with money and all other
necessary supplies, and in due time she was escorted in state to the
city, and established in great magnificence and splendor in the Louvre,
which was then one of the principal palaces of the capital.

Notwithstanding the outward change which was thus made in the
circumstances of the exiled queen, she was very unhappy. As the
excitement of her danger and her efforts to escape it passed away, her
spirits sunk, her beauty faded, and her countenance assumed the wan
and haggard expression of despair. She mourned over the ruin of her
husband's hopes, and her separation from him and from her children,
with perpetual tears. She called to mind continually the image of the
little babe, not yet three weeks old, whom she had left so defenseless
in the very midst of her enemies. She longed to get some tidings of
the child, and reproached herself sometimes for having thus, as it
were, abandoned her.

The localities which were the scenes of these events have been made
very famous by them, and traditional tales of Queen Henrietta's
residence in Exeter, and of her romantic escape from it, have been
handed down there, from generation to generation, to the present day.
They caused her portrait to be painted too, and hung it up in the city
hall of Exeter as a memorial of their royal visitor. The palace where
the little infant was born has long since passed away, but the portrait
hangs in the Guildhall still.




CHAPTER IV.

ESCAPE OF THE CHILDREN.



We left the mother of Prince Charles, at the close of the last chapter,
in the palace of the Louvre in Paris. Though all her wants were now
supplied, and though she lived in royal state in a magnificent palace
on the banks of the Seine, still she was disconsolate and unhappy. She
had, indeed, succeeded in effecting her own escape from the terrible
dangers which had threatened her family in England, but she had left
her husband and children behind, and she could not really enjoy herself
the shelter which she had found from the storm, as long as those whom
she so ardently loved were still out, exposed to all its fury. She had
six children. Prince Charles, the oldest, was in the western part of
England, in camp, acting nominally as the commander of an army, and
fighting for his father's throne. He was now fourteen years of age.
Next to him was Mary, the wife of the Prince of Orange, who was safe
in Holland. She was one year younger than Charles. James, the third
child, whose title was now Duke of York, was about ten. He had been
left in Oxford when that city was surrendered, and had been taken
captive there by the Republican army. The general in command sent him
to London a prisoner. It was hard for such a child to be a captive,
but then there was one solace in his lot. By being sent to London he
rejoined his little sister Elizabeth and his brother Henry, who had
remained there all the time. Henry was three years old and Elizabeth
was six. These children, being too young, as was supposed, to attempt
an escape, were not very closely confined. They were entrusted to the
charge of some of the nobility, and lived in one of the London palaces.
James was a very thoughtful and considerate boy, and had been enough
with his father in his campaigns to understand something of the terrible
dangers with which the family were surrounded. The other children were
too young to know or care about them, and played blindman's buff and
hide and go seek in the great saloons of the palace with as much
infantile glee as if their father and mother were as safe and happy
as ever.

Though they felt thus no uneasiness and anxiety for themselves, their
exiled mother mourned for them, and was oppressed by the most foreboding
fears for their personal safety. She thought, however, still more
frequently of the babe, and felt a still greater solicitude for her,
left as she had been, at so exceedingly tender an age, in a situation
of the most extreme and imminent danger. She felt somewhat guilty in
having yielded her reluctant consent, for political reasons, to have
her other children educated in what she believed a false system of
religious faith, and she now prayed earnestly to God to spare the life
of this her last and dearest child, and vowed in her anguish that, if
the babe were ever restored to her, she would break through all
restrictions, and bring her up a true believer. This vow she afterward
earnestly fulfilled.

The child, it will be recollected, was left, when Henrietta escaped
from Exeter, in the care of the Countess of Morton, a young and
beautiful, and also a very intelligent and energetic lady. The child
had a visit from its father soon after its mother left it. King Charles,
as soon as he heard that Essex was advancing to besiege Exeter, where
he knew that the queen had sought refuge, and was, of course, exposed
to fall into his power, hastened with an army to her rescue. He arrived
in time to prevent Essex from getting possession of the place. He, in
fact, drove the besieger away from the town, and entered it himself
in triumph. The queen was gone, but he found the child.

The king gazed upon the little stranger with a mixture of joy and
sorrow. He caused it to be baptized, and named it Henrietta Anne. The
name Henrietta was from the mother; Anne was the name of Henrietta's
sister-in-law in Paris, who had been very kind to her in all her
troubles. The king made ample arrangements for supplying Lady Morton
with money out of the revenues of the town of Exeter, and, thinking
that the child would be as safe in Exeter as any where, left her there,
and went away to resume again his desperate conflicts with his political
foes.

Lady Morton remained for some time at Exeter, but the king's cause
every where declined. His armies were conquered, his towns were taken,
and he was compelled at last to give himself up a prisoner. Exeter,
as well as all the other strongholds in the kingdom, fell into the
hands of the parliamentary armies. They sent Lady Morton and the little
Henrietta to London, and soon afterward provided them with a home in
the mansion at Oatlands, where the queen herself and her other children
had lived before. It was a quiet and safe retreat, but Lady Morton was
very little satisfied with the plan of remaining there. She wished
very much to get the babe back to its mother again in Paris. She heard,
at length, of rumors that a plan was forming by the Parliament to take
the child out of her charge, and she then resolved to attempt an escape
at all hazards.

Henrietta Anne was now two years old, and was beginning to talk a
little. When asked what was her name, they had taught her to attempt
to reply _princess_, though she did not succeed in uttering more than
the first letters of the word, her answer being, in fact, _prah_. Lady
Morton conceived the idea of making her escape across the country in
the disguise of a beggar woman, changing, at the same time, the princess
into a boy. She was herself very tall, and graceful, and beautiful,
and it was hard for her to make herself look old and ugly. She, however,
made a hump for her back out of a bundle of linen, and stooped in her
gait to counterfeit age. She dressed herself in soiled and ragged
clothes, disfigured her face by reversing the contrivances with which
ladies in very fashionable life are said sometimes to produce artificial
youth and beauty, and with the child in a bundle on her back, and a
staff in her hand, she watched for a favorable opportunity to escape
stealthily from the palace, in the forlorn hope of walking in that way
undetected to Dover, a march of fifty miles, through a country filled
with enemies.

Little Henrietta was to be a boy, and as people on the way might ask
the child its name, Lady Morton was obliged to select one for her which
would fit, in some degree, her usual reply to such a question. She
chose the name Pierre, which sounds, at least, as much like _prah_ as
princess does. The poor child, though not old enough to speak
distinctly, was still old enough to talk a great deal. She was very
indignant at the vile dress which she was compelled to wear, and at
being called a beggar boy. She persisted in telling every body whom
she met that she was not a boy, nor a beggar, nor Pierre, but the
_princess_ saying it all, however, very fortunately, in such an
unintelligible way, that it only alarmed Lady Morton, without, however,
attracting the attention of those who heard it, or giving them any
information.

Contrary to every reasonable expectation, Lady Morton succeeded in her
wild and romantic attempt. She reached Dover in safety. She made
arrangements for crossing in the packet boat, which then, as now, plied
from Dover to Calais. She landed at length safely on the French coast,
where she threw off her disguise, resumed her natural grace and beauty,
made known her true name and character, and traveled in ease and safety
to Paris. The excitement and the intoxicating joy which Henrietta
experienced when she got her darling child once more in her arms, can
be imagined, perhaps, even by the most sedate American mother; but the
wild and frantic violence of her expressions of it, none but those who
are conversant with the French character and French manners can know.

It was not very far from the time of little Henrietta's escape from
her father's enemies in London, though, in fact, before it, that Prince
Charles made his escape from the island too. His father, finding that
his cause was becoming desperate, gave orders to those who had charge
of his son to retreat to the southwestern coast of the island, and if
the Republican armies should press hard upon him there, he was to make
his escape, if necessary, by sea.

The southwestern part of England is a long, mountainous promontory,
constituting the county of Cornwall. It is a wild and secluded region,
and the range which forms it seems to extend for twenty or thirty miles
under the sea, where it rises again to the surface, forming a little
group of islands, more wild and rugged even than the land. These are
the Scilly Isles. They lie secluded and solitary, and are known chiefly
to mankind through the ships that seek shelter among them in storms.
Prince Charles retreated from post to post through Cornwall, the danger
becoming more and more imminent every day, till at last it became
necessary to fly from the country altogether. He embarked on board a
vessel, and went first to the Scilly Isles.

From Scilly he sailed eastward toward the coast of France. He landed
first at the island of Jersey, which, though it is very near the French
coast, and is inhabited by a French population, is under the English
government. Here the prince met with a very cordial reception, as the
authorities were strongly attached to his father's cause. Jersey is
a beautiful isle and, far enough south to enjoy a genial climate, where
flowers bloom and fruits ripen in the warm sunbeams, which are here
no longer intercepted by the driving mists and rains which sweep almost
perceptibly along the hill sides and fields of England.

Prince Charles did not, however, remain long in Jersey. His destination
was Paris. He passed, therefore, across to the main land, and traveled
to the capital. He was received with great honors at his mother's new
home, in the palace of the Louvre, as a royal prince, and heir apparent
to the British crown. He was now sixteen. The adventures which he met
with on his arrival will be the subject of the next chapter.

James, the Duke of York, remained still in London. He continued there
for two years, during which time his father's affairs went totally to
ruin. The unfortunate king, after his armies were all defeated, and
his cause was finally given up by his friends, and he had surrendered
himself a prisoner to his enemies, was taken from castle to castle,
every where strongly guarded and very closely confined. At length,
worn down with privations and sufferings, and despairing of all hope
of relief, he was taken to London to be tried for his life. James, in
the mean time, with his brother, the little Duke of Gloucester, and
his sister Elizabeth, were kept in St. James's Palace, as has already
been stated, under the care of an officer to whom they had been given
in charge.

The queen was particularly anxious to have James make his escape. He
was older than the others, and in case of the death of Charles, would
be, of course, the next heir to the crown. He did, in fact, live till
after the close of his brother's reign, and succeeded him, under the
title of James the Second. His being thus in the direct line of
succession made his father and mother very desirous of effecting his
rescue, while the Parliament were strongly desirous, for the same
reason, of keeping him safely. His governor received, therefore, a
special charge to take the most effectual precautions to prevent his
escape, and, for this purpose, not to allow of his having any
communication whatever with his parents or his absent friends. The
governor took all necessary measures to prevent such intercourse, and,
as an additional precaution, made James _promise_ that he would not
receive any letter from any person unless it came through him.

James's mother, however, not knowing these circumstances, wrote a
letter to him, and sent it by a trusty messenger, directing him to
watch for some opportunity to deliver it unobserved. Now there is a
certain game of ball, called _tennis_, which was formerly a favorite
amusement in England and on the Continent of Europe, and which, in
fact, continues to be played there still. It requires an oblong
enclosure, surrounded by high walls, against which the balls rebound.
Such an enclosure is called a tennis court. It was customary to build
such tennis courts in most of the royal palaces. There was one at St.
James's Palace, where the young James, it seems, used sometimes to
play. [Footnote: It was to such a tennis court at Versailles that the
great National Assembly of France adjourned when the king excluded
them from their hall, at the commencement of the great Revolution, and
where they took the famous oath not to separate till they had
established a constitution, which has been so celebrated in history
as the Oath of the Tennis Court.] Strangers had the opportunity of
seeing the young prince in his coming and going to and from this place
of amusement, and the queen's messenger determined to offer him the
letter there. He accordingly tendered it to him stealthily, as he was
passing, saying, "Take this; it is from your mother."

James drew back, replying, "I can not take it. I have promised that
I will not."

The messenger reported to the queen that he offered the letter to
James, and that he refused to receive it. His mother was very much
displeased, and wondered what such a strange refusal could mean.

Although James thus failed to receive his communication, he was allowed
at length, once or twice, to have an interview with his father, and
in these interviews the king recommended to him to make his escape,
if he could, and to join his mother in France. James determined to
obey this injunction, and immediately set to work to plan his escape.
He was fifteen years of age, and, of course, old enough to exercise
some little invention.

He was accustomed, as we have already stated, to join the younger
children in games of hide and go seek. He began now to search for the
most recondite hiding places, where he could not be found, and when
he had concealed himself in such a place, he would remain there for
a very long time, until his playmates had given up the search in
despair. Then, at length, after having been missing for half an hour,
he would reappear of his own accord. He thought that by this plan he
should get the children and the attendants accustomed to his being for
a long time out of sight, so that, when at length he should finally
disappear, their attention would not be seriously attracted to the
circumstance until he should have had time to get well set out upon
his journey.

He had, like his mother, a little dog, but, unlike her, he was not so
strongly attached to it as to be willing to endanger his life to avoid
a separation. When the time arrived, therefore, to set out on his
secret journey, he locked the dog up in his room, to prevent its
following him, and thus increasing the probability of his being
recognized and brought back. He then engaged his brother and sister
and his other playmates in the palace in a game of hide and go seek.
He went off ostensibly to hide, but, instead of doing so, he stole out
of the palace gates in company with a friend named Banfield, and a
footman. It was in the rear of the palace that he made his exit, at
a sort of postern gate, which opened upon an extensive park. After
crossing the park, the party hurried on through London, and then
directed their course down the River Thames toward Gravesend, a port
near the mouth of the river, where they intended to embark for Holland.
They had taken the precaution to disguise themselves. James wore a
wig, which, changing the color and appearance of his hair, seemed to
give a totally new expression to his face. He substituted other clothes,
too, for those which he was usually accustomed to wear. The whole party
succeeded thus in traversing the country without detection. They reached
Gravesend, embarked on board a vessel there, and sailed to Holland,
where James joined the Prince of Orange and his sister, and sent word
to his mother that he had arrived there in safety.

His little brother and sister were left behind. They were too young
to fly themselves, and too old to be conveyed away, as little Henrietta
had been, in the arms of another. They had, however, the mournful
satisfaction of seeing their father just before his execution, and of
bidding him a last farewell. The king, when he was condemned to die,
begged to be allowed to see these children. They were brought to visit
him in the chamber where he was confined. His parting interview with
them, and the messages of affection and farewell which he sent to their
brothers and sisters, and to their mother, constitute one of the most
affecting scenes which the telescope of history brings to our view,
in that long and distant vista of the past, which it enables us so
fully to explore. The little Gloucester was too young to understand
the sorrows of the hour, but Elizabeth felt them in all their intensity.
She was twelve years old. When brought to her father, she burst into
tears, and wept long and bitterly. Her little brother, sympathizing
in his sister's sorrow, though not comprehending its cause, wept
bitterly too. Elizabeth was thoughtful enough to write an account of
what took place at this most solemn farewell as soon as it was over.
Her account is as follows:

"_What the king said to me on the 29th of January, 1648, the last time
I had the happiness to see him_.

"He told me that he was glad I was come, for, though he had not time
to say much, yet somewhat he wished to say to me, which he could not
to another, and he had feared 'the cruelty' was too great to permit
his writing. 'But, darling,' he added, 'thou wilt forget what I tell
thee.' Then, shedding an abundance of tears, I told him that I would
write down all he said to me. 'He wished me,' he said, 'not to grieve
and torment myself for him, for it was a glorious death he should die,
it being for the laws and religion of the land.' He told me what books
to read against popery. He said 'that he had forgiven all his enemies,
and he hoped God would forgive them also;' and he commanded us, and
all the rest of my brothers and sisters, to forgive them too. Above
all, he bade me tell my mother 'that his thoughts had never strayed
from her, and that his love for her would be the same to the last;'
withal, he commanded me (and my brother) to love her and be obedient
to her. He desired me 'not to grieve for him, for he should die a
martyr, and that he doubted not but God would restore the throne to
his son, and that then we should be all happier than we could possibly
have been if he had lived.'

"Then taking my brother Gloucester on his knee, he said, 'Dear boy, now
will they cut off thy father's head.' Upon which the child looked very
steadfastly upon him. 'Heed, my child, what I say; they will cut off
my head, and perhaps make thee a king; but, mark what I say! You must
not be a king as long as your brothers Charles and James live;
therefore, I charge you, do not be made a king by them.' At which the
child, sighing deeply, replied, 'I will be torn in pieces first.' And
these words, coining so unexpectedly from so young a child, rejoiced
my father exceedingly. And his majesty spoke to him of the welfare of
his soul, and to keep his religion, commanding him to fear God, and
he would provide for him; all which the young child earnestly promised
to do."

After the king's death the Parliament kept these children in custody
for some time, and at last they became somewhat perplexed to know what
to do with them. It was even proposed, when Cromwell's Republican
government had become fully established, to bind them out apprentices,
to learn some useful trade. This plan was, however, not carried into
effect. They were held as prisoners, and sent at last to Carisbrooke
Castle, where their father had been confined. Little Henry, too young
to understand his sorrows, grew in strength and stature, like any other
boy; but Elizabeth pined and sunk under the burden of her woes. She
mourned incessantly her father's cruel death, her mother's and her
brother's exile, and her own wearisome and hopeless captivity. "Little
Harry", as she called him, and a Bible, which her father gave her in
his last interview with her, were her only companions. She lingered
along for two years after her father's death, until at length the
hectic flush, the signal of approaching dissolution, appeared upon her
cheek, and an unnatural brilliancy brightened in her eyes. They sent
her father's physician to see if he could save her. His prescriptions
did no good. One day the attendants came into her apartment and found
her sitting in her chair, with her cheek resting upon the Bible which
she had been reading, and which she had placed for a sort of pillow
on the table, to rest her weary head upon when her reading was done.
She was motionless. They would have thought her asleep, but her eyes
were not closed. She was dead. The poor child's sorrows and sufferings
were ended forever.

The stern Republicans who now held dominion over England, men of iron
as they were, could not but be touched with the unhappy fate of this
their beautiful and innocent victim; and they so far relented from the
severity of the policy which they had pursued toward the ill-fated
family as to send the little Gloucester, after his sister's death,
home to his mother.




CHAPTER V.

THE PRINCE'S RECEPTION AT PARIS.



So complicated a story as that of the family of Charles can not be
related, in all its parts, in the exact order of time; and having now
shown under what circumstances the various members of the family made
their escape from the dangers which threatened them in England, we
return to follow the adventures of Prince Charles during his residence
on the Continent, and, more particularly in this chapter, to describe
his reception by the royal family of France. He was one of the first
of the children that escaped, having arrived in France in 1646. His
father was not beheaded until two years afterward.

In order that the reader may understand distinctly the situation in
which Charles found himself on his arrival at Paris, we must first
describe the condition of the royal family of France at this time.
They resided sometimes at Fontainebleau, a splendid palace in the midst
of a magnificent park about forty miles from the city. Henrietta, it
will be recollected, was the sister of a king of France. This king was
Louis XIII. He died, however, not far from the time of Queen Henrietta's
arrival in the country, leaving his little son Louis, then five years
old, heir to the crown. The little Louis of course became king
immediately, in name, as Louis XIV., and in the later periods of his
life he attained to so high a degree of prosperity and power, that he
has been, ever since his day, considered one of the most renowned of
all the French kings. He was, of course, Prince Charles's cousin. At
the period of Prince Charles's arrival, however, he was a mere child,
being then about eight years old. Of course, he was too young really
to exercise any of the powers of the government. His mother, Anne of
Austria, was made regent, and authorized to govern the country until
the young king should arrive at a suitable age to exercise his
hereditary powers in his own name. Anne of Austria had been always
very kind to Henrietta, and had always rendered her assistance whenever
she had been reduced to any special extremity of distress. It was she
who had sent the supplies of money and clothing to Henrietta when she
fled, sick and destitute, to Exeter, vainly hoping to find repose and
the means of restoration there.

Besides King Louis XIII., who had died, Henrietta had another brother,
whose name was Gaston, duke of Orleans. The Duke of Orleans had a
daughter, who was styled the Duchess of Montpensier, deriving the title
from her mother. She was, of course, also a cousin of Prince Charles.
Her father, being brother of the late king, and uncle of the present
one, was made lieutenant general of the kingdom, having thus the second
place, that is, the place next to the queen, in the management of the
affairs of the realm. Thus the little king commenced his reign by
having in his court his mother as queen regent, his uncle lieutenant
general, and his aunt, an exiled queen from a sister realm, his guest.
He had also in his household his brother Philip, younger than himself,
his cousin the young Duchess of Montpensier, and his cousin the Prince
Charles. The family relationship of all these individuals will be made
more clear by being presented in a tabular form, as follows:


ROYAL FAMILY OF FRANCE IN THE TIME OF LOUIS XIV.

          Louis XIII.                   Louis XIV.
          Anne of Austria.              Philip, 8 years old.

HENRY IV  Gaston, duke of Orleans.      Duchess of Montpensier
Duchess of Montpensier.

          Henrietta Maria.              Prince Charles, 16.
          King Charles I.


In the above table, the first column contains the name of Henry IV.,
the second those of three of his children, with the persons whom they
respectively married, and the third the four grandchildren, who, as
cousins, now found themselves domesticated together in the royal palaces
of France.

The young king was, as has already been said, about eight years old
at the time of Prince Charles's arrival. The palace in which he resided
when in the city was the Palace Royal, which was then, and has been
ever since, one of the most celebrated buildings in the world. It was
built at an enormous expense, during a previous reign, by a powerful
minister of state, who was, in ecclesiastical rank, a cardinal, and
his mansion was named, accordingly, the Palace Cardinal. It had,
however, been recently taken as a royal residence, and its name changed
to Palace Royal. Here the queen regent had her grand apartments of
state, every thing being as rich as the most lavish expenditure could
make it. She had one apartment, called an oratory, a sort of closet
for prayer, which was lighted by a large window, the sash of which was
made of silver. The interior of the room was ornamented with the most
costly paintings and furniture, and was enriched with a profusion of
silver and gold. The little king had his range of apartments too, with
a whole household of officers and attendants as little as himself.
These children were occupied continually with ceremonies, and pageants,
and mock military parades, in which they figured in miniature arms and
badges of authority, and with dresses made to imitate those of real
monarchs and ministers of state. Every thing was regulated with the
utmost regard to etiquette and punctilio, and without any limits or
bounds to the expense. Thus, though the youthful officers of the little
monarch's household exercised no real power, they displayed all the
forms and appearances of royalty with more than usual pomp and splendor.
It was a species of child's play, it is true, but it was probably the
most grand and magnificent child's play that the world has ever
witnessed. It was into this extraordinary scene that Prince Charles
found himself ushered on his arrival in France.

At the time of the prince's arrival the court happened to be residing,
not at Paris, but at Fontainebleau. Fontainebleau, as has already been
stated, is about forty miles from Paris, to the southward. There is
a very splendid palace and castle there, built originally in very
ancient times. There is a town near, both the castle and the town being
in the midst of a vast park and forest, one of the most extended and
magnificent royal domains in Europe. This forest has been reserved as
a hunting ground for the French kings from a very early age. It covers
an area of forty thousand acres, being thus many miles in extent. The
royal family were at this palace at the time of Prince Charles's
arrival, celebrating the festivities of a marriage. The prince
accordingly, as we shall presently see, went there to join them.

There were two persons who were anticipating the prince's arrival in
France with special interest, his mother, and his young cousin, the
Duchess of Montpensier. Her Christian name was Anne Marie Louisa.
[Footnote: She is commonly called, in the annals of the day in which
she lived, _Mademoiselle_, as she was, _par eminence_, the young lady
of the court. In history she is commonly called Mademoiselle de
Montpensier; we shall call her, in this narrative, simply Anne Maria,
as that is, for our purpose, the most convenient designation.] She was
a gay, frivolous, and coquettish girl, of about nineteen, immensely
rich, being the heiress of the vast estates of her mother, who was not
living. Her father, though he was the lieutenant general of the realm,
and the former king's brother, was not rich. His wife, when she died,
had bequeathed all her vast estates to her daughter Anne Maria was
naturally haughty and vain, and; as her father was accustomed to come
occasionally to her to get supplies of money, she was made vainer and
more self-conceited still by his dependence upon her. Several matches
had been proposed to her, and among them the Emperor of Germany had
been named. He was a widower. His first wife, who had been Anne Maria's
aunt, had just died. As the emperor was a potentate of great importance,
the young belle thought she should prefer him to any of the others who
had been proposed, and she made no secret of this her choice. It is
true that he had made no proposal to her, but she presumed that he
would do so after a suitable time had elapsed from the death of his
first wife, and Anne Maria was contented to wait, considering the lofty
elevation to which she would attain on becoming his bride.

But Queen Henrietta Maria had another plan. She was very desirous to
obtain Anne Maria for the wife of her son Charles. There were many
reasons for this. The young lady was a princess of the royal family
of France; she possessed, too, an immense fortune, and was young and
beautiful withal, though not quite so young as Charles himself. He was
sixteen, and she was about nineteen. It is true that Charles was now,
in some sense, a fugitive and an exile, destitute of property, and
without a home. Still he was a prince. He was the heir apparent of the
kingdoms of England and Scotland. He was young and accomplished. These
high qualifications, somewhat exaggerated, perhaps, by maternal
partiality, seemed quite sufficient to Henrietta to induce the proud
duchess to become the prince's bride.

All this, it must be remembered, took place before the execution of
King Charles the First, and when, of course, the fortunes of the family
were not so desperate as they afterward became. Queen Henrietta had
a great many conversations with Anne Maria before the prince arrived,
in which she praised very highly his person and his accomplishments.
She narrated to the duchess the various extraordinary adventures and
the narrow escapes which the prince had met with in the course of his
wanderings in England; she told her how dutiful and kind he had been
to her as a son, and how efficient and courageous in his father's cause
as a soldier. She described his appearance and his manners, and foretold
how he would act, what tastes and preferences he would form, and how
he would be regarded in the French court. The young duchess listened
to all this with an appearance of indifference and unconcern, which
was partly real and partly only assumed. She could not help feeling
some curiosity to see her cousin, but her head was too full of the
grander destination of being the wife of the emperor to think much of
the pretensions of this wandering and homeless exile.

Prince Charles, on his arrival, went first to Paris, where he found
his mother. There was an invitation for them here to proceed to
Fontainebleau, where, as has already been stated, the young king and
his court were now residing. They went there accordingly, and were
received with every mark of attention and honor. The queen regent took
the young king into the carriage of state, and rode some miles along
the avenue, through the forest, to meet the prince and his mother when
they were coming. They were attended with the usual cortege of carriages
and horsemen, and they moved with all the etiquette and ceremony proper
to be observed in the reception of royal visitors.

When the carriages met in the forest, they stopped, and the
distinguished personages contained in them alighted. Queen Henrietta
introduced her son to the queen regent and to Louis, the French king,
and also to other personages of distinction who were in their train.
Among them was Anne Maria. The queen regent took Henrietta and the
prince into the carriage with her and the young king, and they proceeded
thus together back to the palace. Prince Charles was somewhat
embarrassed in making all these new acquaintances, in circumstances,
too, of so much ceremony and parade, and the more so, as his knowledge
of the French language was imperfect. He could understand it when
spoken, but could not speak it well himself, and he appeared,
accordingly, somewhat awkward and confused. He seemed particularly at
a loss in his intercourse with Anne Maria. She was a little older than
himself, and, being perfectly at home, both in the ceremonies of the
occasion and in the language of the company, she felt entirely at her
ease herself; and yet, from her natural temperament and character, she
assumed such an air and bearing as would tend to prevent the prince
from being so. In a word, it happened then as it has often happened
since on similar occasions, that the beau was afraid of the belle.

The party returned to the palace. On alighting, the little king gave
his hand to his aunt, the Queen of England, while Prince Charles gave
his to the queen regent, and thus the two matrons were gallanted into
the hall. The prince had a seat assigned him on the following day in
the queen regent's drawing room, and was thus regularly instated as
an inmate of the royal household. He remained here several days, and
at length the whole party returned to Paris.

Anne Maria, in after years, wrote reminiscences of her early life,
which were published after her death. In this journal she gives an
account of her introduction to the young prince, and of her first
acquaintance with him. It is expressed as follows:

"He was only sixteen or seventeen years of age, rather tall, with a
fine head, black hair, a dark complexion, and a tolerably agreeable
countenance. But he neither spoke nor understood French, which was
very inconvenient. Nevertheless, every thing was done to amuse him,
and, during the three days that he remained at Fontainebleau, there
were hunts and every other sport which could be commanded in that
season. He paid his respects to all the princesses, and I discovered
immediately that the Queen of England wished to persuade me that he
had fallen in love with me. She told me that he talked of me
incessantly; that, were she not to prevent it, he would be in my
apartment [Footnote: This means at her residence. The whole suite of
rooms occupied by a family is called, in France, their _apartment_.]
at all hours; that he found me quite to his taste, and that he was in
despair on account of the death of the empress, for he was afraid that
they would seek to marry me to the emperor. I listened to all she said
as became me, but it did not have as much effect upon me as probably
she wished."

After spending a few days at Fontainebleau, the whole party returned
to Paris, and Queen Henrietta and the prince took up their abode again
in the Palace Royal, or, as it is now more commonly called, the Palais
Royal. Charles was much impressed with the pomp and splendor of the
French court, so different from the rough mode of life to which he had
been accustomed in his campaigns and wanderings in England. The
etiquette and formality, however, were extreme, every thing, even the
minutest motions, being regulated by nice rules, which made social
intercourse and enjoyment one perpetual ceremony. But, notwithstanding
all this pomp and splendor, and the multitude of officers and attendants
who were constantly on service, there seems to have been, in the results
obtained, a strange mixture of grand parade with discomfort and
disorder. At one time at Fontainebleau, at a great entertainment, where
all the princes and potentates that had been drawn there by the wedding
were assembled, the cooks quarreled in the kitchen, and one of the
courses of the supper failed entirely in consequence of their
dissensions; and at another time, as a large party of visitors were
passing out through a suite of rooms in great state, to descend a grand
staircase, where some illustrious foreigners, who were present, were
to take their leave, they found the apartments through which they were
to pass all dark. The servants had neglected or forgotten to light
them.

These and similar incidents show that there may be regal luxury and
state without order or comfort, as there may be regal wealth and power
without any substantial happiness. Notwithstanding this, however,
Prince Charles soon became strongly interested in the modes of life
to which he was introduced at Paris and at Fontainebleau. There were
balls, parties, festivities, and excursions of pleasure without number,
his interest in these all being heightened by the presence of Anne
Maria, whom he soon began to regard with a strong degree of that
peculiar kind of interest which princesses and heiresses inspire. In
Anne Maria's memoirs of her early life, we have a vivid description
of many of the scenes in which both she herself and Charles were such
prominent actors. She wrote always with great freedom, and in a very
graphic manner, so that the tale which she tells of this period of her
life forms a very entertaining narrative.

Anne Maria gives a very minute account of what took place between
herself and Charles on several occasions in the course of their
acquaintance, and describes particularly various balls, and parties,
and excursions of pleasure on which she was attended by the young
prince. Her vanity was obviously gratified by the interest which Charles
seemed to take in her, but she was probably incapable of any feelings
of deep and disinterested love, and Charles made no impression upon
her heart. She reserved herself for the emperor.

For example, they were all one night invited to a grand ball by the
Duchess de Choisy. This lady lived in a magnificent mansion, called
the Hotel de Choisy. Just before the time came for the party of visitors
to go, the Queen of England came over with Charles to the apartments
of Anne Maria. The queen came ostensibly to give the last touches to
the adjustment of the young lady's dress, and to the arrangement of
her hair, but really, without doubt, in pursuance of her policy of
taking every occasion to bring the young people together.

"She came," says Anne Maria, in her narrative, "to dress me and arrange
my hair herself. She came for this purpose to my apartments, and took
the utmost pains to set me off to the best advantage, and the Prince
of Wales held the flambeau near me to light my toilet the whole time.
I wore black, white, and carnation; and my jewelry was fastened by
ribbons of the same colors. I wore a plume of the same kind; all these
had been selected and ordered by my aunt Henrietta. The queen regent,
who knew that I was in my aunt Henrietta's hands, sent for me to come
and see her when I was all ready, before going to the ball. I
accordingly went, and this gave the prince an opportunity to go at
once to the Hotel de Choisy, and be ready there to receive me when I
should arrive I found him there at the door, ready to hand me from my
coach. I stopped in a chamber to readjust my hair, and the Prince of
Wales again held a flambeau for me. This time, too, he brought his
cousin, Prince Rupert, as an interpreter between us; for, believe it
who will, though he could understand every word I said to him, he could
not reply the least sentence to me in French. When the ball was finished
and we retired, the prince followed me to the porter's lodge of my
hotel, [Footnote: In all the great houses in Paris, the principal
buildings of the edifice stand back from the street, surrounding a
court yard, which has sometimes shrubbery and flowers and a fountain
in the center. The entrance to this court yard is by a great gate and
archway on the street, with the apartments occupied by the _porter_,
that is, the keeper of the gate, on one side. The entrance to the
porter's lodge is from under the archway.] and lingered till I entered,
and then went his way.

"There was another occasion on which his gallantry to me attracted a
great deal of attention. It was at a great fete celebrated at the
Palais Royal. There was a play acted, with scenery and music, and then
a ball. It took three whole days to arrange my ornaments for this
night. The Queen of England would dress me on this occasion, also,
with her own hands. My robe was all figured with diamonds, with
carnation trimmings. I wore the jewels of the crown of France, and,
to add to them, the Queen of England lent me some fine ones of her
own, which she had not then sold. The queen praised the fine turn of
my shape, my air, the beauty of my complexion, and the brightness of
my light hair. I had a conspicuous seat in the middle of the ballroom,
with the young King of France and the Prince of Wales at my feet I did
not feel the least embarrassed, for, as I had an idea of marrying the
emperor, I regarded the Prince of Wales only as an object of pity."

Things went on in this way for a time, until at last some political
difficulties occurred at Paris which broke in upon the ordinary routine
of the royal family, and drove them, for a time, out of the city.
Before these troubles were over, Henrietta and her son were struck
down, as by a blow, by the tidings, which came upon them like a
thunderbolt, that their husband and father had been beheaded. This
dreadful event put a stop for a time to every thing like festive
pleasures. The queen left her children, her palace, and all the gay
circle of her friends, and retired to a convent, to mourn, in solitude
and undisturbed, her irreparable loss.




CHAPTER VI.

NEGOTIATIONS WITH ANNE MARIA.



Our Prince Charles now becomes, by the death of his father, King Charles
the Second, both of England and of Scotland. That is, he becomes so
in theory, according to the principles of the English Constitution,
though, in fact, he is a fugitive and an exile still. Notwithstanding
his exclusion, however, from the exercise of what he considered his
right to reign, he was acknowledged as king by all true Royalists in
England, and by all the continental powers. They would not aid him to
recover his throne, but in the courts and royal palaces which he visited
he was regarded as a king, and was treated, in form at least, with all
the consideration and honor which belonged to royalty. Queen Henrietta
was overwhelmed with grief and despair when she learned the dreadful
tidings of the execution of her husband. At the time when these tidings
came to her, she was involved, also, in many other sufferings and
trials. As was intimated in the last chapter, serious difficulties had
occurred between the royal family of France and the government and
people of the city of Paris, from which a sort of insurrection had
resulted, and the young king and his mother, together with all the
principal personages of the court, had been compelled to fly from the
city, in the night, to save their lives. They went in a train of twenty
or thirty carriages, by torch light, having kept their plan a profound
secret until the moment of their departure. The young king was asleep
in his bed until the time arrived, when they took him up and put him
into the carriage. Anne Maria, whose rank and wealth gave her a great
deal of influence and power, took sides, in some degree, with the
Parisians in this contest, so that her aunt, the queen regent,
considered her as an enemy rather than a friend. She, however, took
her with them in their flight; but Anne Maria, being very much out of
humor, did all she could to tease and torment the party all the way.
When they awoke her and informed her of their proposed escape from
Paris, she was, as she says in her memoirs, very much delighted, for
she knew that the movement was very unwise, and would get her aunt,
the queen regent, and all their friends, into serious difficulties.

She dressed herself as quick as she could, came down stairs, and
proceeded to enter the queen regent's coach, saying that she wanted
to have one or the other of certain seats--naming the best places--as
she had no idea, she said, of being exposed to cold, or riding
uncomfortably on such a night. The queen told her that those seats
were for herself and another lady of high rank who was with her, to
which Anne Maria replied, "Oh, very well; I suppose young ladies ought
to give up to _old_ people."

In the course of conversation, as they were preparing to ride away,
the queen asked Anne Maria if she was not surprised at being called
up to go on such an expedition. "Oh no," said she; "my father" (that
is, Gaston, the duke of Orleans) "told me all about it beforehand."
This was not true, as she says herself in her own account of these
transactions. She knew nothing about the plan until she was called
from her bed. She said this, therefore, only to tease her aunt by the
false pretension that the secret had been confided to her. Her aunt,
however, did not believe her, and said, "Then why did you go to bed,
if you knew what was going on?" "Oh," replied Anne Maria, "I thought
it would be a good plan to get some sleep, as I did not know whether
I should even have a bed to lie upon to-morrow night."

The party of fugitives exhibited a scene of great terror and confusion,
as they were assembling and crowding into their carriages, before they
left the court of the Palais Royal. It was past midnight, in the month
of January, and there was no moon. Called up suddenly as they were
from their beds, and frightened with imaginary dangers, they all pressed
forward, eager to go; and so hurried was their departure, that they
took with them very scanty supplies, even for their most ordinary
wants. At length they drove away. They passed rapidly out of the city.
They proceeded to an ancient palace and castle called St. Germain's,
about ten miles northeast of Paris. Anne Maria amused herself with the
fears, and difficulties, and privations which the others suffered, and
she gives an account of the first night they spent in the place of
their retreat, which, as it illustrates her temperament and character,
the reader will like perhaps, to see.

"I slept in a very handsome room, well painted, well gilded, and large,
with very little fire, and no windows, [Footnote: That is, with no
glass to the windows.] which is not very agreeable in the month of
January. I slept on mattresses, which were laid upon the floor, and
my sister, who had no bed, slept with me. I was obliged to sing to get
her to sleep, and then her slumber did not last long, so that she
disturbed mine. She tossed about, felt me near her, woke up, and
exclaimed that she saw the beast, so I was obliged to sing again to
put her to sleep, and in that way I passed the night. Judge whether
this was an agreeable situation for one who had had little or no sleep
the night before, and who had been ill all winter with colds. However,
the fatigue and exposure of this expedition cured me.

"In a short time my father gave me his room, but as nobody knew I was
there, I was awoke in the night by a noise. I drew back my curtain,
and was astonished to find my chamber filled with men in large buff
skin collars, and who appeared surprised to see me, and knew me as
little as I did them. I had no change of linen, and when I wanted any
thing washed, it was done in the night, while I was in bed. I had no
women to arrange my hair and dress me, which is very inconvenient.
Still I did not lose my gayety, and they were in admiration at my
making no complaint; and it is true that I am a creature that can make
the most of every thing, and am greatly above trifles."

To feel any commiseration for this young lady, on account of the alarm
which she may be supposed to have experienced at seeing all those
strange men in her chamber, would be sympathy thrown away, for her
nerves were not of a sensibility to be affected much by such a
circumstance as that. In fact, as the difficulties between the young
king's government and the Parisians increased, Anne Maria played quite
the part of a heroine. She went back and forth to Paris in her carriage,
through the mob, when nobody else dared to go. She sometimes headed
troops, and escorted ladies and gentlemen when they were afraid to go
alone. Once she relieved a town, and once she took the command of the
cannon of the Bastille, and issued her orders to fire with it upon the
troops, with a composure which would have done honor to any veteran
officer of artillery. We can not go into all these things here in
detail, as they would lead us too far away from the subject of this
narrative. We only allude to them, to give our readers some distinct
idea of the temperament and character of the rich and blooming beauty
whom young King Charles was wishing so ardently to make his bride.

During the time that these difficulties continued in Paris, Queen
Henrietta's situation was extremely unhappy. She was shut up in the
palace of the Louvre, which became now her prison rather than her home.
She was separated from the royal family; her son, the king, was
generally absent in Holland or in Jersey, and her palace was often
surrounded by mobs; whenever she ventured out in her carriage, she was
threatened with violence and outrage by the populace in such a manner
as to make her retreat as soon as possible to the protection of the
palace walls. Her pecuniary means, too, were exhausted. She sold her
jewels, from time to time, as long as they lasted, and then contracted
debts which her creditors were continually pressing her to pay. Her
friends at St. Germain's could not help her otherwise than by asking
her to come to them. This she at last concluded to do, and she made
her escape from Paris, under the escort of Anne Maria, who came to the
city for the purpose of conducting her, and who succeeded, though with
infinite difficulty, in securing a safe passage for Henrietta through
the crowds of creditors and political foes who threatened to prevent
her journey. These troubles were all, however, at last settled, and
in the autumn (1649) the whole party returned again to Paris.

In the mean time the young King Charles was contriving schemes for
getting possession of his realm. It will be recollected that his sister
Mary, who married the Prince of Orange, was at this time residing at
the Hague, a city in Holland, near the sea. Charles went often there.
It was a sort of rendezvous for those who had been obliged to leave
England on account of their attachment to his father's fortunes, and
who, now that the father was dead, transferred their loyalty to the
son. They felt a very strong desire that Charles's plans for getting
possession of his kingdom should succeed, and they were willing to do
every thing in their power to promote his success. It must not be
supposed, however, that they were governed in this by a disinterested
principle of fidelity to Charles himself personally, or to the justice
of his cause. Their own re-establishment in wealth and power was at
stake as well as his, and they were ready to make common cause with
him, knowing that they could save themselves from ruin only by
reinstating him.

Charles had his privy council and a sort of court at the Hague, and
he arranged channels of communication, centering there, for collecting
intelligence from England and Scotland, and through these he watched
in every way for the opening of an opportunity to assert his rights
to the British crown. He went, too, to Jersey, where the authorities
and the inhabitants were on his side, and both there and at the Hague
he busied himself with plans for raising funds and levying troops, and
securing co-operation from those of the people of England who still
remained loyal. Ireland was generally in his favor too, and he seriously
meditated an expedition there. His mother was unwilling to have him
engage in these schemes. She was afraid he would, sooner or later,
involve himself in dangers from which he could not extricate himself,
and that he would end by being plunged into the same pit of destruction
that had engulfed his father.

Amid all these political schemes, however, Charles did not forget Anne
Maria. He was sager to secure her for his bride; for her fortune, and
the power and influence of her connections, would aid him very much
in recovering his throne. Her hope of marrying the Emperor of Germany,
too, was gone, for that potentate had chosen another wife. Charles
therefore continued his attentions to the young lady. She would not
give him any distinct and decisive answer, but kept the subject in a
state of perpetual negotiation. She was, in fact, growing more and
more discontented and unhappy in disposition all the time. Her favorite
plan of marrying the emperor had been thwarted, in part, by the
difficulties which her friends--her father and her aunt especially--had
contrived secretly to throw in the way, while outwardly and ostensibly
they appeared to be doing all in their power to promote her wishes.
They did not wish to have her married at all, as by this event the
management of her vast fortune would pass out of their hands. She
discovered this, their double dealing, when it was too late, and she
was overwhelmed with vexation and chagrin.

Things being in this state, Charles sent a special messenger, at one
time, from the Hague, with instructions to make a formal proposal to
Anne Maria, and to see if he could not bring the affair to a close.
The name of this messenger was Lord Germain.

The queen regent and her father urged Anne Maria now to consent to the
proposal. They told her that Charles's prospects were brightening--that
they themselves were going to render him powerful protection--that he
had already acquired several allies--that there were whole provinces
in England that were in his favor; and that all Ireland, which was,
as it were, a kingdom in itself, was on his side. Whether they seriously
desired that Anne Maria would consent to Charles's proposals, or only
urged, for effect, what they knew very well she would persist in
refusing, it is impossible to ascertain. If this latter were their
design, it seemed likely to fail, for Anne Maria appeared to yield.
She was sorry, she said, that the situation of affairs in Paris was
not such as to allow of the French government giving Charles effectual
help in gaining possession of the throne; but still, not withstanding
that, she was ready to do what ever they might think best to command.

Lord Germain then said that he should proceed directly to Holland and
escort Charles to France, and he wanted Anne Maria to give him a direct
and positive reply; for if she would really accept his proposal, he
would come at once to court and claim her as his bride; otherwise he
must proceed to Ireland, for the state of his affairs demanded his
presence there. But if she would accept his proposal, he would
immediately come to Paris, and have the marriage ceremony performed,
and then he would remain afterward some days with her, that she might
enjoy the honors and distinctions to which she would become entitled
as the queen consort of a mighty realm. He would then, if she liked
the plan, take her to Saint Germain's, where his mother, her aunt, was
then residing, and establish her there while he was recovering his
kingdom; or, if she preferred it, she might take up her residence in
Paris, where she had been accustomed to live.

To this the young lady replied that the last mentioned plan, that is,
that she should continue to live at Paris after being married to
Charles, was one that she could not think of. She should feel altogether
unwilling to remain and enjoy the gayeties and festivities of Paris
while her husband was at the head of his armies, exposed to all the
dangers and privations of a camp; nor should she consider it right to
go on incurring the expenses which a lady of her rank and position
must necessarily bear in such a city, while he was perhaps embarrassed
and distressed with the difficulties of providing funds for his own
and his followers' necessities. She should feel, in fact, bound, if
she were to become his wife, to do all in her power to assist him; and
it would end, she foresaw, in her having to dispose of all her property,
and expend the avails in aiding him to recover his kingdom. This, she
said, she confessed alarmed her. It was a great sacrifice for her to
make, reared as she had been in opulence and luxury. Lord Germain
replied that all this was doubtless true, but then, on the other hand,
he would venture to remind her that there was no other suitable match
for her in Europe. He then went on to name the principal personages.
The Emperor of Germany and the King of Spain were both married. Some
other monarch was just about to espouse a Spanish princess. Others
whom he named were too y