So it was agreed that Rupert should return with us.
The last farewell! I shall never forget it. It is one of those memories which stay with me forever.
To draw attention from his real purpose, which was to go to Hull where the stacks of ammunition were being held, Charles was dressed in hunting clothes. He had let it be known that after saying goodbye to me he was going north on a hunting expedition.
He kissed first our daughter, then he turned to me and held me in his arms. He kissed me again and again. Then he released me only to catch me up in his arms once more.
“How am I going to live without you?” he demanded.
“In the same way as I must perforce live without you.”
“Oh, my dearest, don’t go. Never leave me.”
“I will come back with riches…with what we need to fight our enemies. Then, my dearest love, we shall be together and live happily for as long as our lives shall last.”
More kisses. More embraces. We could not bring ourselves to release each other.
But I must go and at last I reluctantly tore myself away. He stood watching me as I went aboard. I stood on deck, he on the shore, and we looked longingly at each other until the ship began to move slowly away.
Then he galloped along the cliff, his hat in his hand waving…waving….
I could not see him clearly for the tears in my eyes, but I went on waving until he was out of sight.
SHE—MAJESTY—GENERALISSIMA
I hated the sea. When I was sailing it always seemed to put on its most malevolent aspect, and we were only a little way off the English coast when the storms arose. These journeys always seemed endless, but at least the stormy weather took my mind off my parting with Charles. I was in a state of anxiety most of the time, not so much from fear of drowning as that the ships carrying my plate and valuables would be lost.
My fears were not without foundation, for when Helvoetsluys was in sight one of the ships went down in the rough sea. I was grieved to see that it was the one which contained the equipment to fit up a chapel for me in the apartments which would be given to me during my stay.
That seemed a bad omen.
I had very few friends with me. Among them were Lord Arundel and Lord Goring—the father of George who had betrayed the Army Plot but who had returned to us so contrite that Charles had forgiven him, saying that he would be the more eager to serve us because of his lapse from fidelity and would want to make up for the trouble he had caused us. I had my confessor Father Philip and Father Cyprien Gamache; and among the few ladies Susan, the Countess of Denbigh and the Duchess of Richmond—and a few of my French attendants.
How wonderful it was to be on dry land. I was immensely relieved when, with Mary beside me, I stepped ashore at Hounslerdike. The eager young bridegroom was waiting for us there and the welcoming cannon thundered out as he escorted us to the coaches which would take us to the Hague.
There was no doubt of the respect in which the Prince of Orange held us. I had not been mistaken in his delight at the marriage; I did not want ceremony though. I wanted to make my transactions quickly, to build up an army and take it back to Charles.
I was met by Charles’s sister, Elizabeth of Bohemia, who was very beautiful although she took little pains with her appearance and now seemed somewhat ravaged by the tragedies which had befallen her. There could not have been two people more unlike. She made me aware of how she despised that attention I gave to my appearance and the clothes I wore (something which was born in me and which I had never cultivated), my smallness, my femininity; perhaps she knew that my folly had not helped her brother’s cause. She had never forgotten that she was an English Princess and was angry because of what was happening in England. She could not have been more deeply concerned about that than I was, and the fact that she was inclined to blame me was something I found hard to bear at that time.
Rupert was kind and respectful; he exuded the desire for adventure and was determined to obey the wishes of the King and look after me. Charles Louis was still sulking and did not appear.
I thought that if only Charles had been with me and all was well at home, what a happy occasion this could have been.
March had set in, cold and blustery, and during the journeyings and triumphal entry into the capital I was growing more and more impatient. But the Prince of Orange was determined to honor us. How I could have laughed with Charles at the gauche behavior of these Dutch. They lacked the manners of the English Court and I remembered that I had found those far less gracious than the ones I had grown accustomed to in my girlhood. The Burgomasters kept their hats on in my presence which at home would have been considered an insult, and at first I thought this might have been intended because some of those simply clad, unsmiling men bore a certain resemblance to our own Roundheads. But it proved to be just ignorance. I thought when the mistake was explained to me I would break into hysterical laughter for one of them kissed the hand of my dwarf, Geoffrey Hudson, thinking he was one of my sons.
How indignant my sons would have been at that!
I used to cry at night longing for Charles. The only consolation I could find was in writing to him; and as I did so my eyes would brim over with tears which dropped onto the paper making great blots.
“The marks of love,” I told him they were. They would prove to him how I wept for him.
It was a great day when I received a letter from him. It contained little news of the progress of affairs, but it assured me—his dear heart—that his days were dark without me and that he was entirely mine.
The weeks flew past. So much time was spent in ceremonies and I realized that I should have come quietly for there were few opportunities of conducting the business which I longed to complete.
By the time we left the Hague for Rotterdam, May had come. I chafed against the delay. Charles was writing regularly and his letters constantly expressed his devotion, but they were no substitute for his presence. We had worked out a little code before I left and it gave me a delicious sense of intimacy as I opened his letters and read. I lived for those letters and the day when I would return to him.
In the midst of this, one of the daughters of the Prince of Orange died and the ceremonies were brought to an abrupt end. We returned to the Hague and the Prince of Orange joined his army. He insisted that we inspect his troops, which was all for our honor, of course, but I could get no answer to the real question: How much help could I wring from them? Or perhaps, could I get any help at all?
At length it was intimated to me that while the Prince of Orange was ready to mediate between the King and the Parliament it would be unwise to supply arms for Charles to fight his own subjects. The people of Holland were sternly Protestant and not unlike our own Roundheads. He could not go against the wishes of his people.
Then I must try to barter with the jewelry and plate which I had brought with me. There followed for me a period which was something like a dream. I became a kind of saleswoman, a peddler displaying my wares and trying to bargain with people the like of whom I had never known before.
It was a disheartening business. Most of the people who came to see me were Jewish and had a keen eye for business. They admired the jewels. Who could fail to do so? They were the priceless heirlooms of England.
They were beautiful, one merchant told me and his eyes glistened as he touched them reverently. “But, my lady, these jewels are not yours to sell. They are the property of the crown.”
I was angry. “My husband gave them to me so I cannot see how they are not mine,” I retorted.
“If we bought them they could be demanded back as goods sold when the seller had no right to sell.”