European Genealogy and History

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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: