Perhaps you would like a description of the throne. The chair is beautifully burnished, covered with ruby velvet, and edged with ruby and gold fringe; the back is surmounted by a crown containing sapphires, with lions in support; another crown and the letter W being wrought on the velvet immediately underneath. In front of the chair is a footstool to match. The canopy is curtained in ruby velvet, with lining of cream silk—in token of the youth of its future occupant—with fringe, cord, and tassels of gold. It is surmounted by crowns and ostrich plumes, on the inner centre being worked the Royal Arms, with the motto "Je Maintiendrai" standing out in bold relief. On either side the canopy may be noted the floral wreaths containing the "Zuid Holland" and "Noord Holland" respectively. The room—as are the major part of them—is richly carpeted with hand-made "Deventers" of artistic design and colour blend.
Leaving here, I pass on to a room which is of much importance, namely, the sitting-room of Her Majesty the Queen. In the lifetime of the late King it was his habit to pass very much of his time here; thus, this was really His Majesty's audience chamber. Here he would have his little daughter of whom he was passionately fond—taking a great delight in listening to her merry prattle, and her amusing remarks on whatever attracted her attention. The windows of the room look out on to the Dam, a large square, which is quite the busiest part of the city. The view from these windows is a never-ending source of interest to the little Princess, and here she is wont to station herself, the inhabitants continually congregating and greeting her with hearty cheering.
The room has an artistic ceiling by Holsteyn, and on the walls are some paintings rich in detail, and of much historic interest. One of Flinck's largest works—"Marcus Curius Dentatus"—is at one end: at the other, one of Ferdinand Bol's—"Fabricius in the Camp of Pyrrhus." Facing the windows is one by Wappers and Eeckhout: one that irresistibly appeals to the hearts of all Hollanders. It is called the "Self-Sacrifice of Van Speyk," and depicts the brave admiral of that name blowing up his vessel rather than surrender.
Van Speyk was educated in one of the public schools for which Amsterdam is famous. Quite early in life he entered the navy, where his career was brilliant and his promotion rapid, but never did he so gain the devoted admiration of his countrymen as when he had nothing before him but death or defeat, and chose the former, calling on his men to jump and swim, if they cared to; if not, to remain and share his fate. Only one jumped: the others stood by their commander, faced death calmly, and won a never-dying renown for their heroism.
There is a wonderful chandelier from the ceiling centre, made of copper and ormolu, burning seventy-two lights, and of such enormous size that one wonders how many floors it would crash through if it were to give way; then I learn that it is supported by concealed cross-beams hidden away under the ceiling. After that information, it is a great deal more comfortable to walk about under it than hitherto, as the men in uncovering it had moved it, and it was still swinging backwards and forwards in anything but a reassuring manner. Some fine marble columns and a sculptured chimney-piece are worth attention, as are the costly hangings and carpet. Here I may say that the greater part of the furniture in this Palace is "First Empire" style, and of the costliest description.
What will, no doubt, greatly interest you is the accompanying photograph of small furniture specially made for her youthful Majesty, and used exclusively by her. The frames are of the finest over-burnish, the plush upholstery being decorated with the rarest specimens of art needlework. On one of the little tables you will note a battledore and shuttlecock, with another thrown upon the floor, as though the player had been suddenly interrupted in the midst of her play. Very ordinary make and shape are these toys, such as you may see in any middle-class English home, and each of them looking like favourites—judging from the signs of much use they present.
Play-days are not yet over for the Queen, and doubtless she does not wish to hasten their departure, for children are children all the world over, whether born in palace or cottage. This particular one is not to be envied by those of lower station, who have not the responsibility of position ever looming in front of them—for she is shut away from many youthful pleasures, and denied the constant companionship of those suited to her age.
I heard a story that on one occasion, in playing with her dolls, she was thus heard to speak to a supposed refractory one: "Now, be good and quiet, because if you don't I will turn you into a Queen, and then you will not have anyone to play with at all." That is sufficiently pathetic to speak volumes of what it is to be born in the purple, as was Wilhelmina of the Netherlands.