When travelling in male attire, and under the name of “the son of the Count of Dohna,” Madame du Noyer, in her _Lettres Galantes_, tells how Christina, when staying at an inn, was visited by the Queen of Denmark, who disguised herself as a servant, and in that character waited on the ex-queen. So cleverly did she act her part that Christina had not the slightest suspicion, and, putting no restraint upon her tongue, she occasionally spoke with entire unreserve of the King of Denmark in terms of a not very complimentary kind. But, on her leaving the inn, the Queen of Denmark commanded a page to inform his errant mistress that she had done great injustice to the King. The page hastened to deliver the message, at hearing which Christina laughed aloud, and exclaimed, “What! that servant-girl who was standing there all dinner-time was the Queen of Denmark! Well, there has happened to her what often happens to curious people--they make discovery of more things than are agreeable to them. It is her own fault, for as I have not the gift of divination, I did not look for her under such a dress as that.”
The vacillating fortunes of the Polish monarchy seem to have convinced more than one king that a crown is not always the most enviable of possessions. Thus it is recorded that one sovereign--probably Boleslaus II.--having quitted his companions in the hunting-field, was discovered some days afterwards in the market-place of the capital disguised as a porter, and lending out the use of his shoulders for a few pence. At first there was some doubt as to whether the porter could be his Majesty; but when this was removed, there was some indignation that so great and exalted a personage should debase himself by so vile an employment. He was then entreated to return to his vacant throne, but his Majesty replied, “Upon my honour, gentlemen, the load which I quitted is by far heavier than the one you see me carry here: the weightiest is but a straw when compared to that world under which I laboured. I have slept more in four nights than I have during all my reign. I begin to live, and to be a king of myself. Elect whom you choose. For me, who am so well, it were madness to return to Court.” The story goes that when search was made for this philosophic ex-monarch he was found only with extreme difficulty. He was elected against his will, and when the sceptre was placed in his hand as he was seated on the throne, he exclaimed, with some emotion, “I had rather tug at the oar than occupy such a place.” But, as it has been justly remarked, “few are the kings of the Poles who might not have given utterance to the same sentiment, whether they were of the country, or as was often the case after Casimir, obtained from foreign countries,” it having been the boast of the Polish nobility that they held their kings, and were not holden by them.[79]