1. I.
THE ADVENTURES OF A QUEEN.
These memoirs, fortunately, deal much more in incident
than in sentiment. All the love-making they
contain was made by my humble self, you see, friend;
and, looking back now, those scenes impress me as
exquisitely absurd.
Have your laugh, therefore, reader, at that interview
in the park at Helvoetsluys; then come with me to
some scenes which will possess more interest.
We are going to return to England. The queen
had received her two million pounds sterling. With
the larger portion she had bought artillery and other
munitions; and on a clear day of February, 1643, she
sailed from Scheveling, in a first-class ship, the Princess
Royal, with eleven transports,—the whole convoyed
by a war-fleet under command of Admiral Van
Tromp.
The weather had promised to be fine; but the heavens
speedily clouded over. Then a violent northeasterly
gale began to roar, and the seas to dash. With every
moment the wind seemed to become more violent;
and I shall never forget the ludicrous scenes which
took place on the Princess Royal. There, every one,
save the queen, had fallen a prey to sea-sickness. The
ladies of her suite were tied in their small beds, I was
told, to secure them from the tossing of the ship. All
was wailing and moaning, prayers for deliverance, and
vows against again tempting the horrors of the great
deep. In the general confusion, scarce an attempt
was made to preserve etiquette. Those who essayed
to serve the queen rolled and fell as they approached
her,—thereby causing her to laugh heartily, with her
pleasant sense of humor.
The storm grew ever more violent; and now the
ship seemed about to founder. Then the ludicrous
character of the spectacle presented reached its highest
point. The ladies of the suite gave up hope, and
began to shout aloud their confessions to the attendant
priests. The priests were in wretched plight, as they
shared the terrible nausea; and as the strange confessions
were cried out at the top of the fair ladies' voices,
they vainly strove to pay attention,—pale, woe-begone,
and as wretched as their penitents.
In the midst of all sat the queen, looking on and
listening. At last the scene overpowered her, and she
burst into a hearty laugh.
“For shame, ladies!” she said. “See! there are
gentlemen at the door who hear you!”
And indeed several of the queen's gentlemen were
looking on, and listening to the strange revelations.
The queen shrugged her fair shoulders after the
French fashion, and added,—
“Well, I suppose the extremity of your fears takes
away the shame of confessing such misdeeds in public!”
And, rising, she took a step forward to leave the
cabin. As she did so, the ship rolled suddenly, and
the queen would have fallen had I not hastened to her.
I received her in my arms, and she clung to me,—the
royal head upon my shoulder! The sea is terribly
democratic. The arms of a subject were around his
queen!—for a moment only, however: her majesty
regained her footing at once, and ascended to the
deck.
Here, leaning on the rail, and gazing with perfect
calmness upon the wild waters lashed to fury by the
storm, the queen uttered these words to the few persons
who had followed her:
“Comfort yourselves, mes chères!—queens of England
are never drowned!”
They were brave words; and 'twas a heart braver
than many a man's from which they came.
The tempest continued day and night for many
days; and finally the Princess Royal and the whole
fleet were beaten back to the coast of Holland,—all
but two of the vessels, which foundered in the tempest.
The queen was not discouraged. Her eyes were
fixed on England, and again the fleet set sail. This
time favoring winds blew, and the vessels ran rapidly
before them. At dawn one morning I heard a cry on
deck. I hastened up, and saw that the fleet had entered
Burlington Bay, on the coast of Yorkshire; and
on the hills, now in plain view, a considerable body of
the royal cavalry was drawn up in long line, ready to
welcome us.
The queen was not to land her stores and regain
his majesty, however, without further adventures; and
I beg the reader not to suppose from that word “adventures”
that I feign these incidents. They are the
simple truth.
Her majesty had landed a portion of her stores, and
gone on shore with her suite, when an enemy suddenly
appeared and roughly saluted her. This enemy was
Admiral Batten, in command of a fleet of parliament
vessels; and the first intimation we had of his approach
was the thunder of guns.
The cannonade began at dawn one morning, before
the queen, who slept in a small house on the shore,
had risen. She was startled from slumber by the cries
of her ladies, and before she was well awake the houses
around were battered down, and two cannon-balls struck
the roof above her, crashing down through the ceilings.
There was thus no time for delay. Van Tromp
had engaged the enemy; but a part of their attentions
was bestowed upon the house the queen occupied, in
ignorance, I hope, of her presence, though Admiral
Batten was charged with firing on her majesty.
Scarce stopping to make any portion of her toilette,
the queen hastened from the threatened mansion. She
had thrown around her shoulders a flowered robe-de-chambre,
her brown hair fell in masses of curls around
her neck, and she had thrust her small white feet into
a pair of thin silken slippers, which scarce defended
them from the sharp flints of the way. Such was the
unceremonious guise in which the queen fled through
the street of Burlington. All at once she stopped.
I was near her majesty, and cried to her to hasten on.
“No, I cannot leave Mitte behind!” she said.
“Mitte!” I exclaimed.
“My poor lap-dog, Mr. Cecil.”
“I beseech your majesty!—I will return and—”
The queen had scarce listened. She was back again
at the house ere I could turn round. I ran after her.
The street was raked by cannon-shot, and the hoarse
thunder resounded from the sea: with that thunder
suddenly mingled the yelp of a dog.
I had reached the door of the house just as the queen,
who had run up to her chamber and caught the lap-dog
from his place of repose on her own bed, made
her reappearance, clasping Mitte in her arms.
“I could not leave him to the mercy of the parliament,
Mr. Cecil! They have voted me guilty of high
treason, and might condemn him! What a tragedy, to
think of his perishing on Tower Hill!”
“Good heavens!” I exclaimed, “for your majesty
to jest at such a moment!”
As I spoke, a cannot-shot passed within a few feet of
the queen and entered a house near us.
“Hasten, your majesty!—I beseech you!”
“I am not afraid; but you see I am running, Mr.
Cecil!”
The beautiful face, with its flush of excitement, was
turned over the shoulder. The rosy lips were parted
over the white teeth by a smile; the dark eyes beamed
from behind the mass of brown hair— Pardon my
romantic enthusiasm, reader: Queen Mary was very
beautiful then, as she ran with her little bare feet and
laughed at the bullets.
They pursued her as she fled from the town into the
country. Reaching the fields, she crouched down with
her attendants in a ditch for protection. As she did
so, a piteous cry resounded a few yards from her. A
servant of her suite had uttered the cry: he had been
torn in two by a cannon-ball.
All day the roar continued, and all day the queen
crouched down. As evening came, the parliament
ships sailed away, pursued by Van Tromp.
“And now the rest of my stores may land,” said
the queen; “and I'll go dress myself.”
