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                                ROYALTY
                              IN ALL AGES

                    [Illustration: text decoration]

                   T. F. THISELTON-DYER, M.A. OXON.

                    [Illustration: QUEEN ELIZABETH]




                                ROYALTY
                              IN ALL AGES

           The Amusements, Eccentricities, Accomplishments,
                          Superstitions, and
                       Frolics of the Kings and
                           Queens of Europe

                                  BY

                   T. F. THISELTON-DYER, M.A. OXON.

                    _WITH SIX ETCHED PORTRAITS FROM
                       CONTEMPORARY ENGRAVINGS_

                                LONDON
                          JOHN C. NIMMO, LTD.
                   NEW YORK: CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS
                               MDCCCCIII

                  Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.
                        At the Ballantyne Press




PREFACE


It has been remarked that to write of the private and domestic acts of
monarchs while still alive savours of scandal and bad taste, but when
dead their traits of character, however strange and eccentric they may
have been in their lifetime, at once become matter of history. Adopting
this rule, we have confined ourselves in the present work to dealing
with royalty in the past; and, in a field so wide, we have, as far as
possible, endeavoured to make each chapter concise and representative of
the subject treated. The following pages, whilst illustrating the
marvellous versatility of royalty, when seriously analysed tend to show
how vastly superior the latter-day sovereigns have been when compared
with those of earlier times, many of whose extraordinary freaks and
vagaries as much degraded the throne, as the refined and cultivated
tastes of her late Majesty Queen Victoria elevated and beautified it.

                                                  T. F. THISELTON-DYER.




CONTENTS


 CHAP.                                                              PAGE

    I. ROYALTY AT PLAY                                                 1

   II. FREAKS OF ROYALTY                                              10

  III. ROYAL REVELRY                                                  37

   IV. ROYAL EPICURES                                                 57

    V. CURIOUS FADS OF ROYALTY                                        85

   VI. DANCING MONARCHS                                               99

  VII. ROYAL HOBBIES                                                 120

 VIII. THE ROYAL HUNT                                                135

   IX. ROYAL MASQUES AND MASQUERADES                                 152

    X. ROYALTY IN DISGUISE                                           168

   XI. ROYAL GAMESTERS                                               184

  XII. ROYALTY ON THE TURF                                           204

 XIII. ROYAL SPORTS AND PASTIMES                                     223

  XIV. COURT DWARFS                                                  239

   XV. ROYAL PETS                                                    247

  XVI. ROYAL JOKES AND HUMOUR                                        264

 XVII. ROYALTY AND FASHION                                           288

XVIII. ROYALTY WHIPT AND MARRIED BY PROXY                            306

  XIX. COURT JESTERS AND FOOLS                                       313

   XX. ROYALTY AND THE DRAMA                                         334

  XXI. ROYAL AUTHORS                                                 357

 XXII. ROYAL MUSICIANS                                               376

XXIII. SUPERSTITIONS OF ROYALTY                                      395

INDEX                                                                433




LIST OF ETCHED PORTRAITS


QUEEN ELIZABETH                                            _Frontispiece_

EDWARD I.                                              _To face page_ 46

EDWARD III.                                                  ”       136

CHARLES II.                                                  ”       210

CHARLES IX., KING OF FRANCE                                  ”       240

LOUIS XIV.                                                   ”       348




ROYALTY




CHAPTER I

ROYALTY AT PLAY


The great Mogul Emperor was a chess player, and was generous enough to
rejoice when he was beaten by one of his courtiers, which was the exact
reverse of Philip II. of Spain, who, when a Spanish grandee had won
every game in which he had played against the King, could not conceal
his vexation. Whereupon the skilful but injudicious player, returning
home, said to his family: “My children, we have nothing more to do at
Court. There we must henceforth expect no favour; the King is offended
because I have won of him every game of chess.” Napoleon did not like
defeat even at chess, for, if he perceived his antagonist gaining upon
him, he would with one hasty movement sweep board and pieces off the
table on to the ground.

In some cases, however, if we are to believe the traditions of history,
chess has been responsible for some serious fracas. Thus a story is told
of William the Conqueror, how when a young man he was invited to the
Court of the French king, and during his stay there was one day engaged
at chess with the King’s eldest son, when a dispute arose concerning a
certain move. William, annoyed at a certain remark made by his
antagonist, struck him with the chess-board, which “obliged him to make
a precipitate retreat from France to avoid the consequences of so rash
an act.”

A similar anecdote is told of John, the youngest son of Henry II., who
quarrelled over the chess-board with one Fulco Guarine, a Shropshire
nobleman, receiving such a blow as almost to kill him. John did not
easily forget the affront, and long after his accession to the throne
showed his resentment by keeping him from the possession of Whittington
Castle, to which he was the rightful heir. It is also said that Henry
was engaged at chess when the deputies from Rouen informed him that the
city was besieged by Philip, King of France; but he would not listen to
their news until he had finished his game. A curious accident happened
to Edward I. when he was playing at chess at Windsor, for, on suddenly
rising from the game, the next moment the centre stone of the groined
ceiling fell on the very spot where he had been sitting, an escape which
he attributed to the special protection of Providence. It is further
recorded that Edward I. received from one of the dignitaries of the
Temple, in France, a chess-board and chess-men made of jasper and
crystal, which present he transferred to his queen; hence it has been
concluded that she, too, was skilled in the noble game.

But his son, Edward II., got into disrepute by playing at
chuck-farthing, or cross and pile, which was held to be a very unkingly
diversion, “and sufficient to disgust the warlike peers who had been
accustomed to rally round the victorious banner of his father.” In one
of his wardrobe accounts these entries occur: “Item--paid to Henry, the
King’s barber, for money which he lent to the King to play at cross and
pile, five shillings. Item--paid to Pires Barnard, usher of the King’s
chamber, money which he lent the King, and which he lost at cross and
pile to Monsieur Robert Wattewille, eight-pence.”[1]

De Foix, on hearing that the Queen of Scots had resolved on the marriage
with her cousin Darnley, went to Elizabeth that he might discuss the
matter. He found her at chess, and, profiting by the opportunity of
discussing the matter, he said: “This game is an image of the words and
deeds of men. If, for example, we lose a pawn, it seems but a small
matter; nevertheless, the loss often draws after it that of the whole
game.”

The Queen replied, “I understand you. Darnley is but a pawn, but may
well checkmate me if he be promoted.”

Charles I. was occupied, it is said, at chess when he was informed of
the final resolution of the Scots to sell him to the Parliament; but he
was so little discomposed by this intelligence that he continued the
game in no way disconcerted. A similar anecdote is told of John
Frederick, Elector of Saxony, who, having been taken prisoner by Charles
V., was condemned to death--a decree which was intimated to him while
at chess with Ernest of Brunswick, his fellow-prisoner. But after a
short pause he challenged his antagonist to finish the game, played with
his usual attention, and expressed his satisfaction at winning. And
coming down to the reign of her late Majesty, Queen Victoria, it is said
she was fond of most games, enjoying chess or draughts, which in her
later days she exchanged for patience. When more actively inclined she
would play at ball or battledore and shuttle-cock with the ladies of the
Court, a practice which she continued till middle life.

As a warning against the perilous habit of playing chess with a wife, it
is related of Ferrand, Count of Flanders, that, having constantly
defeated the Countess, she conceived a hatred against him, which reached
such a height that when the unfortunate Count was taken prisoner at the
battle of Bouvines, she suffered him to remain a long time in prison,
although, according to common report, she might easily have procured his
release.

It was while playing at chess with a knight, nicknamed the “King of
Love,” that James I. of Scotland referred to a prophecy that a king
should die that year, and remarked to his playmate, “There are no kings
in Scotland but you and I. I shall take good care of myself, and I
counsel you to do the same.”

Don John of Austria had a room in his palace in which there was a
chequered pavement of black and white marble, upon which living men
attired in varied costumes moved under his direction according to the
laws of chess. It is also related of a Duke of Weimar that he had
squares of black and white marble, on which he played at chess with red
soldiers.

Although Louis XIII. firmly prohibited all games of chance at Court, he
had so strong an affection for chess that he rarely lost an opportunity
of playing a game in his coach whenever he went abroad. In this respect
he was very different to Louis IX., who forbade any of his officers to
play at dice or at chess; and report goes that his anger on one
occasion, at finding the Duke of Anjou engaged in a move of chess, knew
no bounds.

Henry III. of France was passionately fond of the childish game
bilboquet or “cup and ball,” which, it is said, he used to play even
when walking in the street; and piquet is commonly reported to have
derived its name from that of its inventor, who contrived it to amuse
Charles VI. of France.

The poor imbecile Charles II. of Spain did his best to amuse his young
wife Marie Louise of Orleans, but not with much effect. He would play
with her at “jouchets,” which appears to have been an amusement of the
nature of that known as “spills,” for three or four hours a day--“a
game,” writes Madame de Villars, “at which one might lose a pistole
during all that time _par malheur extraordinaire_.”

Indeed, sovereigns, like other mortals, have sought recreation and a
rest from the anxieties of life in sometimes what may seem the most
childish amusements. One of Napoleon’s favourite games, for instance,
was blind-man’s-buff, a pastime which, it may be remembered, Canning and
Sir William Scott played with the Princess Caroline whilst at Montagu
House. Napoleon, too, was very fond of children, and would carry the
infant King of Rome in his arms, and standing in front of a mirror, make
all kinds of grimaces in the glass. At breakfast he would take the child
upon his knee, “dip his fingers in the sauce, and daub his face with it;
the child’s governess scolded, the Emperor laughed, and the child,
always pleased, seemed to take delight in the rough caresses of his
father.”[2]

Henry IV. of France also delighted in a romp with his children. The
story goes that one day, when trotting round the room on his hands and
knees, with the Dauphin on his back, and the other children urging him
on to gallop in imitation of a horse, an ambassador suddenly entered and
surprised the royal family in the midst of their play. Henry, rising,
inquired, “Have you children, M. l’Ambassadeur.” “Yes, sire.” “In that
case I proceed with the sport.” An anecdote which reminds us of one told
by Ælian of Agesilaus, who, on being found by a friend riding on a stick
for the amusement of his son, he bade his visitor not speak of it to any
one until he was a father himself.

George III. was on one occasion discovered on all-fours, with one of his
children riding astride his back; and most readers are acquainted with
the well-known painting of “George III. playing at Ball with the
Princess Amelia.” His Majesty also took pleasure in a game of
backgammon, a source of recreation of which Louis XIV. was fond. One day
when playing at this game, a dispute arose about a doubtful throw, the
surrounding courtiers remaining silent. The Count de Grammont happening
to come in, the King asked him to decide the matter. He instantly
answered, “Your Majesty is in the wrong.” “How,” said Louis, “can you
decide before you know the question?”

“Because,” replied the Count, “had there been any fault, all these
gentlemen would have given it in favour of your Majesty.”

The King submitted to his decision.

Queen Victoria, too, was fond of children, with whom she enjoyed a romp;
and Catherine II. of Russia would spend her leisure time in affording
infinite delight to the young folk, for whose amusement she would invent
all kinds of impromptu games.

Billiards became very popular during the reign of Louis XIV., to whom it
was recommended by his physicians as an exercise after meals. It is said
that Chamillard, who played with the King, entirely owed his political
fortune to the amount of skill which he displayed in this game. In the
_Mémoires Complets et Authentiques du Duc de Saint Simon_, par M.
Chernel (1872, vol. ii. p. 29), we read that Louis XIV. during the
winter evenings played billiards with M. le Vendôme or M. le Grand,
occasionally with Le Maréchal de Villeroy, and sometimes with the Duc de
Grammont.

Cards have always been popular playthings with royalty--incidents
connected with which will be found in our chapter on gambling. Primero
was the fashionable game at the English Court during the Tudor dynasty,
and Shakespeare represents Henry VIII. playing at it with the Duke of
Suffolk. It was succeeded by a game called “maw,” which appears to have
been the favourite diversion of James I. Weldon, alluding to the
poisoning of Sir Thomas Overbury in his “Court and Character of King
James,” says: “The next that came on the stage was Sir Thomas Monson,
but the night before he was come to his trial, the King, being at the
game of maw, said, ‘To-morrow comes Thomas Monson to his trial.’ ‘Yes,’
said the King’s card-holder, ‘when, if he does not play his master’s
prize, your Majesty shall never trust me.’” This remark, it is said, so
ran in the King’s mind that at the next game he excused himself from
playing as he was sleepy, remarking that he would play out that set the
next night.

And occasionally, it would seem, the play-hours of monarchs have proved
almost if not quite fatal. Thus it was in the winter of 1521 that the
Count of St. Pol, being elected King of the Bean, Francis I. of France
challenged him and his party to a combat with snowballs. Amidst them a
brand was flung, which struck the King on the head, and for some days
placed his life in jeopardy.

It was on Easter Eve 1498 that Charles VIII. of France proceeded to the
battlements of the Castle of Amboise with his queen to watch some of the
courtiers playing ball in the fosses below. But traversing a narrow
passage, Charles struck his head against the archway of a low door,
which, it is said, brought on a kind of fit. He was carried into a
little chamber near, recovered his speech once or twice, and after nine
hours of agony he died.




CHAPTER II

FREAKS OF ROYALTY


It is impossible to account, in many cases, for the strange and
extraordinary freaks of bygone sovereigns on any other ground than
eccentricity or madness. It is true that Charles the Fat used to excuse
himself for the atrocities into which he plunged, by asserting that he
was possessed of a devil, but this, of course, was in banter rather than
sincerity. But, whatever the motives which prompted such peculiar
vagaries on the part of certain monarchs, foibles of this kind, if not
instructive, are certainly amusing.

Thus it is related of Marie Casimire, wife of Sobieski, King of Poland,
that one of her amusements was to let herself be drenched by the rain,
although at the time she might be magnificently dressed. On one
occasion, when Monsieur le Comte de Teil, Conseiller du Parlement de
Paris, who had been sent to Poland by the King of England, happened to
be near the Queen when it rained very heavily, she said to him,
“Monsieur l’Envoi, let us take a walk”--a request which he did not dare
to refuse. He wore on that day a fine wig; nevertheless he endured the
rain for some time, and then said to her, “Madam, your Majesty is
getting wet.” “Say, rather,” answered the Queen, “that you are learning
how to spoil your fine wig,” and she continued walking in the rain
maliciously a full half-hour.

This, however, was a comparatively trivial and harmless amusement
compared with the cruel and outrageous freaks of the Russian Emperor,
Ivan IV., who has been described as “one of the most savage, yet one of
the most enlightened monarchs that ever reigned.” He was only in his
teens when he had one of his attendants worried to death by dogs on the
public highway; and in one of the so-called frolicsome moods he would
let slip wild bears among the affrighted citizens in the streets, and
would calmly say his prayers whilst gazing at the slaughter, making
compensation “for any irregularity in the matter by flinging a few coins
to the wounded after he rose from his knees.” It is even said that Ivan
went so far in his insane freaks as to compel parents to slay their
children, and children one another; and where there was a survivor, “the
amiable monarch, if he was not too weary, would slay him himself, and
would laugh at this conclusion to so excellent a joke.” It is not
surprising that partial madness eventually overtook him, for what can be
said of a ruler who is reported to have sent to the city of Moscow “to
provide for him a measure full of fleas for a medicine.” They answered
it was impossible; and if they could get them, yet they could not
measure them, because of their leaping out. Upon which he set a mulct
upon the city of 7000 roubles.

But Ivan IV. was not the only Russian monarch who indulged in freaks of
an irrational nature, although his successors did not stoop to the same
cruelty. In the case of Peter III. intemperance has been assigned as the
probable cause of some of the absurd actions with which his name has
been associated in contemporary memoirs. Rulhière, for instance, who was
an eye-witness of the Revolution of the year 1762, tells us that his
military mania knew no bounds; he wished that a perpetual noise of
cannon should give him in representation a foretaste of war.
Accordingly, he one day gave orders that one hundred large pieces of
cannon should be fired simultaneously, so that he might have some idea
of the noise of battle. And it was necessary, in order to prevent the
execution of this whim, to represent to him that such an act would shake
the city to the centre. Oftentimes he would rise from table to prostrate
himself on his knees, with a glass in his hand, before a portrait of
Frederick of Prussia, exclaiming, “My brother, we will conquer the
universe together.”

In some instances the conduct of the Russian Emperor Paul was most
eccentric, and his vagaries were so extraordinary that they have been
explained on the theory of madness. One of the most curious stories
about him is related by Kotzebue. He was summoned into the presence of
the Emperor, who said to him in German, “You know the world too well not
to be adequately informed about political occurrences, and must,
therefore, have learned how I have figured in it. I have often made
rather a foolish exhibition of myself, and,” continued he, laughing,
“it’s right that I should be punished, and I have imposed on myself a
chastisement. I want this”--he held a paper in his hand--“to be inserted
in the _Hamburg Gazette_ and other newspapers.” He then took him
confidentially by the arm, and read to him the following paper which he
had written in French:--

“On apprend de Petersbourg que l’Empereur de Russie voyant que les
puissances de l’Europe ne pouvoit s’accorder entre elle et voulant
mettre fin à une guerre qui la desoloit depuis onse ans vouloit proposer
un lieu ou il inviteroit touts les autres souverains de se rendre et y
combattre en champ clos ayant avec eux pour ecuyer juge de camp, et
héros d’armes leurs ministres les plus éclairés et les generaux les plus
habiles tels que Messrs. Thugust, Pitt, Bernstoff, lui même se proposant
de prendre avec lui les generaux C. de Palen et Kutusof, on ne sçait si
on doit y ajouter foi, toute fois la chose ne paroit pas destituée de
fondement en portant l’empreinte de ce dont il a souvent été taxé.”[3]

We may compare this eccentricity with that of Charles I. of England, who
would bind himself to a particular line of conduct by a secret
obligation. One day he drew aside Dr. Sheldon, afterwards Archbishop of
Canterbury, and placed in his hands a paper which detailed certain
measures he proposed to adopt for the glory of God and for the
advancement of the Church, intimating that he “had privately bound
himself by the most awful vow to ensure their accomplishment.” And one
particular obligation which the document contained was to perform public
penance for the injustice he had been guilty of to Lord Strafford, in
consenting to his death. In delivering this paper to Dr. Sheldon,
Charles solemnly conjured him to remind him of his contract, should he
hereafter ever find him in a condition to perform any one of the
articles which it contained.

In his moments of irritation Peter the Great, like William III. of
England, would not hesitate to strike the person who had given him
offence, whatever might be his rank; and, as his Majesty was easily
upset, he was at times very lavish of his blows. His subjects, it is
said, did not consider a blow from the Emperor an affront, and thought
themselves honoured by an apology. But this was not the case with
foreigners, for Le Blond, a French architect whom the Czar had invited
into his dominions, having received the stroke of a cane in the first
transport of imperial anger, took it so much to heart that he sickened
of a fever and died.

The Czar Nicholas was fond of frightening or fascinating people by his
eyes, and it is said that one of his terrible glances once terrified a
Swedish admiral into the Russian service. On another occasion, we are
told how happening to encounter a poor fellow who had strolled into the
private part of the Imperial Park, Nicholas gazed at him with so fierce
a glance that the trespasser was stricken with brain-fever. This strange
peculiarity of the Czar reminds us of Augustus, who, according to
Suetonius, was always well pleased with those persons who, when
addressing him, looked upon the ground, as though there were a divine
splendour in his eyes, too dazzling for them to gaze upon.

Eric XIV. of Sweden in early life was stunned by a violent fall, a
circumstance which, it is said, in after years accounted for his lack of
judgment, and occasional eccentricity of conduct. His highly suspicious
turn of mind made him at times morose, and almost maniacal, causing him
to interpret “the most natural and insignificant of gestures as some
dreadful telegraphing of hideous treason. At such seasons his violence
was frantic, and, after a day marked by acts of frightful outrage, he
would make record against himself in his journal that he had sinned, and
would then start to commit further crime.” By a terrible irony of fate,
when deposed by his brother John, he was thrown into a horrible dungeon,
and “there were placed over him men whom he had offended, and who
claimed to be avenged. The vengeance which they exacted was diabolical,
for they aggravated as far as in them lay the horrors of his
position--one of them fastening to his crippled limbs a mass of iron
which may yet be seen in the museum at Abo.”[4] But can this be wondered
at, when it is remembered how Eric when possessed of power had in his
moments of frenzy and freaks of passion sent innocent men to the
scaffold, and like a lunatic had, after the performance of some
diabolical act, wandered about the fields likening himself to Nero, and
heaping execration upon his own head. He was his own enemy, and as such
incurred his own destruction.

Some of the characteristics of one of his successors on the throne--the
celebrated Christina--were uncommon, for having been educated by men,
and brought up under the guardianship of men, she gradually imbibed a
dislike of all that was womanly. Her ambition seems to have been to be
as much like a man as possible, and nothing seems to have pleased her
more than to don male attire. For womanly refinements, too, she had the
most profound contempt, and it only coincided with this trait of
character that she expressed her conviction of the utter disability of
woman to conduct the affairs of a nation. In short, it is said that
there was nothing of the woman in her save her sex, and that her
presence, voice, and manners, were altogether masculine. Many of her
strange freaks of conduct were attributable to this peculiar whim, in
accordance with which she not only swore like a dragoon, but encouraged
conversation of a by no means refined character. Thus a writer states
that one of his friends used to entertain her with stories of a very
unseemly nature, with which she was abundantly delighted, and adds, “Yet
because there were some of his narrations which did sometimes require
more modest expressions than the genuine or natural, chiefly before a
Royal Majesty and in a maid’s presence, as she saw him going about his
circumlocutions and seeking civil terms, she would boldly speak out the
words, though they were never so filthy, which modesty forbids me to
write here.” Indeed, her own acknowledgment that she was never nice of
speech more or less corresponded with her personal habits, inasmuch as
Manneschied, the confessor of Pimentelli, the Spanish ambassador at the
Swedish Court, and a great admirer of the Queen, thus wrote of her: “She
never combs her hair but once a week, and sometimes lets it go untouched
for a fortnight. On Sundays her toilet takes about half-an-hour, but on
other days it is despatched in a quarter.” Manneschied then adds, “Her
linen was ragged and much torn.” And occasionally, when a bold person
would hint at the salubrity of cleanliness she would reply, “Wash!
that’s all very well for people who have nothing else to do!”

Nothing, again, pleased Christina more than to indulge in some
outrageous freak whereby she would astonish and horrify those around
her. When visiting, for instance, the French Court, she startled the
stately ladies there by her strange conduct; and according to Madame de
Motteville, “In presence of the King, Queen, and the whole Court, she
flung her legs up on a chair as high as that on which she was seated,
and she altogether exhibited them a great deal too freely.” Then, again,
her impatience and irreverence at church were not infrequently matter of
public comment. She would use two chairs, one of purple velvet in which
she was seated, and one in front of her, “over the back of which she
would lean her head or arms, thinking of divers matters.” If the sermon
was a trifle long and somewhat prosy, she would begin playing with the
two spaniels which usually accompanied her, or she would chat with some
gentleman-in-waiting; and, if the sermon did not come to a close, she
would rattle her fan on the back of the chair before her, and distract
the attention of the congregation, if she could not stop the preacher.
But she was perfectly indifferent as to what the public thought of her
conduct, and almost up to the end of her life she adhered to the same
freedom and laxity of manners. It was towards the close of the year 1688
that she received an anonymous letter intimating that her death was not
far off, and that she would do well to set her house in order, which she
could commence by destroying the indecent paintings and statues with
which her mansion was crowded.

But this note of warning had no effect on Christina, and with a smile
she put it in the fire, little anticipating that the prediction would be
fulfilled the following year. Despite her many foibles and follies,
Christina was a great and remarkable woman, a riddle indeed to many who
have read her history. She had a masterful character, and, however much
her various eccentricities and habits of life may have created disgust,
her intellectual powers, on the other hand, were of no mean order. But
one reason, perhaps, which induced her to indulge in such extraordinary
freaks of conduct was her supreme contempt for the parade and symbols of
worldly power, and the conventionalities of society.

It was no matter of surprise that Gustavus IV. proved an incapable and
unreliable monarch, developing eccentricity of character bordering on
insanity. What could be expected of one who in his young life was so
overdone with religious teaching that “he pored over the Book of
Revelations till he became nearly insane, recognised himself as one
mysteriously alluded to in Scripture, and hailed in his own person that
‘coming man’ who as prophet, priest, and king was to rule the world”?
Thus on his wedding-day, at the completion of the marriage ceremony, he
took his bride, Princess Frederica of Baden, to her apartment, and
opening the Book of Esther, bade her read aloud the first chapter.

She obeyed, and then wonderingly asked for an explanation of his strange
conduct. Gustavus at once expounded the passage, warning the Queen that
should she ever disobey her lord and master she would be punished as
Vashti had been, and her dignity would be given to another. This was not
a happy inauguration of married life, and the young Queen soon found to
her bitter disappointment what a miserable existence was enforced upon
her. On one occasion, when Gustavus discovered his young wife having a
romp with her German maids, he immediately dismissed her playful
attendants, and introduced in their place cold and formal aged Swedish
ladies, who would have scorned even the idea of such frivolities. But it
was in his public as well as his private life that Gustavus indulged in
these strange freaks, alienating by his conduct the sympathies of the
aristocracy, many of whom, “to mark their indignation, threw up their
patents of nobility,” while the people generally did not shrink from
showing in an unmistakable manner their annoyance and disgust. The
climax of his follies and freaks was reached when he absented himself
from his kingdom--from 1803 to 1806--so that he was advertised for on
the walls of Stockholm as a stray king, a suitable recompense being
promised to any who should restore him to his “disconsolate subjects.”
Ultimately, as is well known, he was