A LITTLE ENGLISH PRINCESS.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XIX, Issue XVII, 16 October 1897, Page 537

A LITTLE ENGLISH PRINCESS.

(BY CLARB MORRIS.) rwM an evil day—cold, bleak, and drear; and in an upper chamber of the building onee his palace, now his prison, sat a man who waited; and even while he waited patiently for the coming of those who were the precious fruit of his loins, so another waited for him, patiently or impatiently we may not know, since he who waited for his children was Charles 1., King of England, while he who waited for him was Death, king of the world. The evil day drew on apace. At last the waiting man’s thin hands fell upon his open Bible, the last faint spark of hope faded from his famished eyes. And then it was he heard heavy steps upon the stairs, a quick exchange of rough greetings in the corridors; the door was thrown open, and a man-at-arms stooping, placed what seemed two good-sized bundles of rough, damp cloth upon the threshold. But from the top of one, from under waves of pure blond hair, beamed a pair of eyes wondrously like his own, while from the other peered, mischievous and marmot-like, the tiny, smooth, laughing visage of the queen mother’s self.

The elder was Elizabeth, the younger was James, princess and prince of the blood royal. When eager hands had solved the mystery of bow and tie and buckle, cloak, hood and tippet, they were set free—in a limited sense ; for, be it known, these innocents were prisoners, too, and had been held in the north of England, whence they had travelled in this bitter weather, to creep for the last time into their father’s arms.

Circulation being restored to their numbed limbs.warmed and comforted with posset, the king held them together in a close embrace. If his tears washed their baby cheeks, be quickly kissed them dry again, lest they should know the bitterness of such tears as his. And so he sat for a little time in a sort of joyous misery. Wee Elizabeth lay on bis breast, her head back, her arms clasped close about his neck—with rapture pure and simple shining from her great eyes. The extraordinary affection existing between the king and this little daughter was well known at Court, where it had more than onee provoked the jealous wrath of the queen mother, who had now, with her two elder children, found refuge at the Court of France.

Little James patted his father with approving hands, and covered hie face with kisses of prodigious sound. Only a little time was given entirely to welcoming endearments, then the curt reminder of his guard : * The time is short.’ Aye, the time was short, his cup of life was almost drained, and surely the dregs were as aloes. The moment in which he knew himself to have been sold, for so many pieces of silver, by those who should have stood by him—rightly or wrongly stood by him to the last—could not have been so bitter as the one in which, fatedriven, he looked into those laughing, loving eyes, and with his own words destroyed their babyhood forever. But weary, worn and sorrow-stricken, in answer to that hint, * The time is short,’ he placed his little visitors at either knee, ana gravely he addressed them—instructing, cautioning, advising, on strangely actions questions, to bring to the attention of these poor mites questions touching on religion, the rights of succession, and the like. Unhappy little children I when they should have heard and been taught only the tales and games of childhood, they heard the tale of their father’s rapidly approaching, bloody death and were taught that game in the playing of which their father had lost his throne—the game of statecraft. Little Prince James was volatile of nature, restless and hard to hold to serious application or attention. But the sister was thoughtful beyond her years and adorably tender-hearted. She listened to each low-spoken word with a white, speechless, tearful anguish that seemed like to kill her. Having finally won the boy’s attention, the king hastened to make him understand his true position and his real rights, and the right of his elder brother, Charles (whom the queen had taken with her in her flight), and ended by receiving from him a solemn promise, * Never, never to allow any one to make him king while his elder brother lived ;* a promise little James made with his chubby hands clasped upon his father’s Bible, and his babyish lips pressed upon its sacred pages. Then, being released at last, his attention quickly turned to his Majesty’s great, plumed hat lying near by on a chair. This hat he swiftly donned, almost extinguishing his bonnie bead in doing so, and proceeded to assume many stately and majestic attitudes ; with hand on hip (where hung an imaginary sword) and right arm extended, he directed the movements of various bodies of men, represented by pieces of furniture. Poor little knight I while his play

went on, other, in that room felt the cold presence of great Death himself. The king took hie suffering child into his arms again, rocked her upon his breast, covered her pale faee, and sealed her great strained eyes with tender kisses, and filled her ears with every sweet, foolish babyish word of endearment they had known in other days, and murmured over and over again : *My little maid I My bonny little maid I’ until at last the stony stillness of her face was broken, the strain gave way, her little form was shaken by convulsive sobs, and saving tears poured down her wan, white cheeks.

A little later, when they were back again in coat and cloak and hood and tippet, she stood, pale and exhausted, holding tightly the king’s last, most precious gift to her—his very own, own Bible—and watched with wistful eyes her father taking his last farewell in this world of his little son—saw the kisses, beard the prayer and blessing ; and when the boy was placed upon his feet again, she drew nearer, and the king was stooping to take her up, when quickly he raised himself, and made this last request of them. Gently but very seriously be asked them not to speak much of what had taken place during this their last interview ; indeed, he would prefer they should not speak of it at all. And then Elizabeth made her strange reply, unheeded then but later on recalled, repeated and remembered for many a year. Clutching his hand tightly in one of hers, with the other she held the Bible to her breast, and looking straight into his eyes, she said:

* Sire, I’ll speak no more!’ ' The door was flung open. The men waited, but impatiently. A monarch so near his death was not worth patient service. And for the last time Charles took his darling in his arms—his comfort, as be had often called her—and held her close and laid his white, worn, sorrowing faee on hers, and suffered—as what!—only God and himself could know. As she passed her little arm about bis neek, her hand slipped beneath his heavy falling curls and came in contact with his smooth, strong throat. At that touch, there must have flashed npon her a picture of the coming horror, for she gave a sudden gasping cry, and lay unconscious, white and still. And so they parted. The doomed man stood in silence, and saw them carry hie little ones away; but when the man-at-arms bore Princess Elizabeth down the stairs, with trembling lips he murmured : ■My little maid, my bonnie little maid !’ And her wee, white face, lying against the rough leather jerkin, looked like a snow-drop resting there. All through the long black night the children travelled north, and without consolation or comfort, for there was no woman with them in whose pitying breast they might have hidden their stricken little faces.

There were short pauses for food and change of horses only all the next dreary day, and yet, ere the next night had closed down npon them—so much faster can a horseman travel than a coach—they knew the awful truth. Back there in sullen, grimy London the waiting was all over. Charles had obeyed the summoning finger and bent the knee to Death. As king he may have been weak, obstinate, determined only at the wrong time, but, as a man, he shone an example for his country and his court—a faithful husband, an adoring father, a generous, loving, if too trusting, friend. But we have naught more to dd with him, since all the world knows what came to pass upon that last dreary January day in 1649. * It was a trying journey,’ as one said, who shared it. * The weather was hard and rough. The roads were worse than the weather, while worst of all was it to watch those two poor bairns shivering and sobbing in each other’s arms. I’ve no great love for the Stuart blood, but I was glad to see those orphans safely housed after that heavy journey. If a man, healthy and hearty, found it a heavy journey, what must it have been to those delicate little curled darlings of the Court, with grief and terror added to physical discomfort.

The next day after their return people first noticed something odd in the demeanour of the princess. When the lady wife of their keeper came to see the children Prince James greeted her as usual, while the princess rose and made her grave obeisance, but spoke no word of greeting. Solemn little mite I The greatest painter of his day has left your pictured loveliness for us to gaze at. Such a little maid, in long gown of stiff, flowered brocade, a waist cut square at the neck, a tiny stomacher, a string of pearls about the soft, baby throat, a small lace cap tied firm and close, but with waves of hair tumbling from beneath it; and, ah ! the eyes—the sweet, heart-breaking, pathetic eyes ! Thus she looked, when standing mute before her keeper's wife.

The interview soon ended, but ere long those who had charge of the children reported that the Princess Elizabeth was refusing steadily to eat. There was then

another State visit, and when requests nroved useless, a threat was made that food should be forced upon her. At this the blood rose red in her mutinous, baby face, but she remained silent. Only when her porringer was placed before her she silently ate a portion of its contents. But ever and always she was silent. Those who were placed to watch related that when the little James, in bis romps and plays, would suddenly burst into violent weeping, he would rush to his sister and tell her how he wanted mamma or his father, as the case might be. She would put her little arms about him and kies him many times, and smooth his brow and croon

over him, bat never speak, and by and bye he would run away quite comforted. At night, in their little gowns, she drew him down beside her, and they knelt hand in hand; bnt while James made his little prayer aloud, Elizabeth never spoke. Sometimes she was seized with a mortal pallor and strange shiverings, but she made no plaint or moan. Again her cheeks were scarlet as with burning fever, and her eyes bright and hot looking ; and though when the hour of their serving came she drank ravenously, not one word would she speak to obtain aught to quench her turning thirst before the regular hour of their service came. When little James was froward and got himself a reprimand, he would fling away to Elizabeth and she would cosset him, and in her speechless way would soothe and quiet him. But those who served them became filled with fear of her. They said she was * uncanny.' Some said she 'communed with the dead.’ But one old woman who came to peep at her, made answer: * Oh, can you no see the poor bairn just eats her heart and drinks her tears !’ A leech had been sent for. The people who held the children were in no wise cruel to them. His coming was late in the afternoon, and some time was given to courteous greeting and explanation, and then he was led to that portion of the building where the little prisoners were lodged. As they approached a woman came flying down the corridors. She was pale, and cried, excitedly : * Oh, come 1 Prithee, come 1’

As they hurriedly entered the room, they first saw Prince James standing, with convulsed face and streaming eyes, sobbing : * Now she won’t kiss me. Tbislong, long time she hasn't played. Now she won’t kiss me, she won’t!’ Poor little lad I No one noticed him or his grief just then. They rushed toward the chair which stood with its back to them, and in it they found Princess Elizabeth. The window she faced was high, and she had placed a large book and a pair of cushions in the chair to raise her up, that she might look from the window. Thus she sat upon a sort of throne. Upon her silken lap lay open the precious last gift of her adored father, the worn old Bible, and her waxen tiny hand lay on the printed page. Her right elbow leaned on the table at her side, and her dimpled ehin rested in her hand. Her fair blond hair fell on her shoulders, and her great brown eyes looked straight into the flaming glory of the sunset sky. In stately silence she had given audience to Death. Not even his terryfying presence could make her break her promise to her father: * Sire I’ll speak no more !' So she passed, without a father’s kiss ; without a mother's breast to pillow her dying bead upon; without even the familiar sound of her baby brother’s laughter in her ears. So she passed, on weary, though pure, unsullied little feet—bravely, calmly, gravely passed through the open door. A little Royal Princess of England 1 God rest her soul!