CHAPTER XII. ANNE, QUEEN-REGNANT OF GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND.
(A.D. 1694-1714.)
We have already heard a great deal about Anne, because up to the death of her sister, Queen Mary, their lives are so closely connected that it is impossible to understand some of the incidents without mentioning both sisters. The death of Mary brought Princess Anne more into public notice as heir presumptive to the throne, though it was many years before she became Queen of England. Heretofore, as we have seen, she lived like a private person at Berkeley House, and had not even been permitted to appear at court, because of the ill-feeling that existed between her and her sister Mary. Lord and Lady Marlborough, whose devotion to Princess Anne had seriously offended the queen, still continued her warm friends, and the princess wrote letters to her father filled with professions of loyalty and affection as before. King James did not attach much importance to them; but how could he, poor man, after the sad experience he had had. He knew perfectly well that his daughter merely consulted her own interest whether she appeared in the light of his friend or his enemy; for never was a father worse treated than poor James had been by both his daughters.
The Duke of Gloucester was with his mother when Queen Mary's death was announced, and his attendants were surprised at the indifference he manifested. He had been fond of his royal aunt; but as he was only five years
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of age, he could not comprehend the full significance of death, and like most children, was more interested in those people and objects that immediately surrounded him. It was otherwise with his mother, for she and her sister had loved each other devotedly in early years; and when the grave closed over Queen Mary's body, all enmity was forgotten, and Princess Anne could only remember that a once fondly loved relative was irrevocably lost. The old affection returned, and she wept bitter tears. The memory of her sister made her heart warm towards King William, whom she had thoroughly detested for several years. Perhaps his desperate grief touched her, for he shut himself up in Kensington Palace and gave vent to the most agonizing sobs. Those who knew him best were surprised that a man of his disposition could take sorrow so to heart; but he had lost a devoted wife and friend,—one who had sought to place him in the foremost ranks on every occasion, and to gain for him the credit and praise that was really due to her own superior talent for ruling. William III. was well aware of this, and of the fact that henceforth his hold on the crown was by no means secure. His only right to his lofty position was through his wife, and now that she was removed might not a breath deprive him of it? While the war lasted he was compelled to absent himself from England nearly half the year. Hitherto Queen Mary had supplied his place, who was to do so now? His position seemed difficult and dangerous. One day, when he was sitting alone with his head bowed down in grief, Lord Somers entered the room. The king took no notice of him whatever. After waiting a few moments, Somers approached and stated the cause of his intrusion, which was a proposition he desired to make that the hostility of the court towards Princess Anne should terminate.
"My lord, do as you please; I can think of no business," was the reply of the sorrow-stricken king. Lord Somers chose to construe this undecided answer into consent, and so set to work to negotiate a reconciliation through Lord Sunderland, by whose advice Princess Anne was induced to write the following letter to the king:—
Sir,—I beg your majesty's favorable acceptance of my sincere and hearty sorrow for your great affliction in the loss of the queen. And I do assure your majesty I am as sensibly touched with this sad misfortune as if I had never been so unhappy as to have fallen into her displeasure.
It is my earnest desire your majesty would give me leave to wait upon you as soon as it can be without inconvenience to yourself, and without danger of increasing your affliction, that I may have the opportunity myself, not only of repeating this, but assuring your majesty of my real intentions to omit no occasion of giving you constant proofs of my sincere respect and concern for your person and interest, as becomes, sir,
Your majesty's affectionate sister and servant, Anne.
The princess must have felt her welfare at stake as well as that of her son; otherwise she could not have been induced to write so dutiful a letter to the brother-in-law who had treated her so unkindly for many years. It was Archbishop Tennison who took it upon himself to deliver the letter, and at the same time to say all he could in praise of the disinterested conduct of the princess during the period when she was debarred from appearing at court. King William knew better, but gave the archbishop credit for honesty, and concluded that he might with safety trust to the fidelity of Anne now, because her interest was closely linked with his own. He therefore sent her some of the late queen's jewels, in token of reconciliation, and appointed an interview at Kensington Palace.
Anne was in such a dreadful state of health, and so puffed up with dropsy, that she had to be carried to the presence-chamber in a chair. Both she and the king were affected to tears when they met, and after a few remarks they retired to a private room, where they conversed for nearly three-quarters of an hour. The details of that interview are not known; but it is certain that the royal brother and sister-in-law agreed to combine all their interests against James II. and his son, and William further consented to an amnesty with the Earl of Marlborough, for whom he felt supreme contempt.
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When Bentinck was consulted as to his opinion of the reconciliation, he warned the king against putting any trust in the professions of either Marlborough or the princess; but he had withdrawn himself from the side of his once beloved master for some mysterious reason, and another was required to take his place, so in course of time we shall find the much-despised earl courted and honored by King William. The reconciliation between Anne and the king had not been effected too soon, for the Jacobites began to agitate the question whether the princess was not the real Queen of Great Britain, and Ireland; and those provinces that were not kept in subjection by the dread of a standing army were prepared to rebel against a foreign king, who held his position merely by permission of parliament. These were all prepared to support Anne, with the hope that once placed upon the throne she would not hesitate to resign in favor of her father and brother, because her friendly correspondence with the former was known. Many important arrests were made, and many agitators escaped from the kingdom. Anne continued writing to her father, and made promises that she had no idea of fulfilling; but he was not deceived, though he deeply deplored the alliance she had formed for the second time with his enemy.
When William returned to Flanders he left no power in the hands of Anne whatever, but the council of nine took entire charge of government affairs, and the Archbishop of Canterbury was one of their number.
King William's reign, contrary to the expectation of all the statesmen of Europe, was decidedly more prosperous and more tranquil after Queen Mary's death than it had been during her life.
In course of time Princess Anne's health improved, and she became a great huntress. This exercise was begun for the cure of gout and dropsy, but was continued on account of the pleasure the princess derived from it. She was too fat to hunt on horseback, but went in a sort of sedan chair, hung between two very high wheels, and drawn by one horse. How the stag was ever brought down when hunted from such an equipage is a mystery that experienced sportsmen may be able to solve. The young Duke of Gloucester still lived at Campden House, because it was considered a healthful spot, and his health was so delicate that it was feared he might die if not carefully watched. He had a disease called water on the brain, which made his head larger than it ought to have been, and often threatened to prostrate him. There were times when he could not bear to go up or down stairs without having a person to hold him on either side. This fancy was indulged for a time, but at last it was attributed to cowardice, for there was no one sufficiently well-informed as to the nature of his disease to suspect that he felt dizzy. His mother once shut herself up in a room with him for an hour to try and reason him out of being led about, as he was then past five years of age, but he obstinately refused to stir alone until he was whipped again and again. The fact of a child of his vivacity fearing to go up and down stairs without assistance ought to have been sufficient evidence that something was wrong with him; but after the whipping, which certainly ought not to have been administered to a person suffering from any disease of the brain, the young prince dispensed with support, though his head must often have ached and felt very confused. Prince George of Denmark was particularly anxious that no infirmity should be observed in his son, because he could not bear to have him held up to ridicule by the scribblers, who considered no calamity sacred from the merciless attacks of their pens. The brutal articles that appeared daily against the "the young pretender" prompted him to shield his son from similar ones by the opposite party. That was all very well; but disease cannot be whipped out of anybody, and so the prince was encouraged to fight against his malady until he became very ill. Doctor Radcliffe was summoned from Oxford, and did all he could for the little sufferer, who had a fever which kept him in bed two whole weeks. But he was not permitted to be quiet, for his small soldiers were constantly at his bedside blowing their trumpets, beating drums, building toy fortifications, and making a great deal more noise most of the time than was good for the invalid. The old nurse of Princess Anne sent the sick boy a large doll dressed as a warrior by one of his attendants named Wetherby. This present occasioned much indignation among the young soldiers, because it was full six months since any of them had condescended to play with toys of so effeminate a nature, and sentence of destruction was immediately pronounced on the doll. No sooner was it carried into effect than it was decided that the messenger ought to receive punishment, too.
A.D. 1695. But Wetherby knew what a rough lot of boys surrounded the prince, and, taking warning by the treatment the doll had received at their hands, hastened down Campden-Hill and hid himself. In the afternoon the unfortunate fellow was discovered and captured,—four grown men having been pressed into the service,—and locked up all night. The next morning he was brought before the Duke of Gloucester, who pronounced his sentence. Wetherby was forthwith bound, hand and foot, mounted on a large hobby-horse and soused all over with water from large syringes. This was all done for the amusement of the duke; and as Wetherby had taken part on various occasions in playing similar jokes on the men who assisted the boys, they showed him no mercy now. When the poor prisoner was half-drowned, he was drawn into the presence of the invalid, who enjoyed immensely his woeful plight.
The following summer change of air was strongly recommended for the royal boy by Dr. Radcliffe, and, after seeking accommodation at several watering-places, the Princess Anne decided to take him to Twickenham. There she was offered three adjoining houses which belonged to Mrs. Davies, a gentlewoman more than eighty years of age, who had belonged to the court of Charles I. This lady was bright, cheerful, healthy, and excessively pious. She was simple in her habits, and had lived on fruit and herbs nearly all her life. She was well-born and rich, and owned a large estate, on which were planted a number of fine fruit trees. Her cherries, which were just ripe when the princess went to Twickenham, were the finest in all the country around; and the old lady gave the people of the royal household full permission to gather as many as they chose, providing that they would not injure her trees, of which she was very proud.
At the end of a month Princess Anne ordered her treasurer to hand Mrs. Davies a hundred guineas for rent and the trouble her people had given; but the aged hostess positively refused to accept a farthing, and when pressed to receive the money, she indignantly arose, and, letting the gold-pieces that had been placed in her lap, roll all over the floor, quietly walked out of the room. The princess was astonished at such generosity, and declared that, although it would have been a pleasure to her to reward the old lady to the utmost of her power, her feelings must not be hurt by a further offer of money.
The little Duke of Gloucester formed such a warm attachment for Mrs. Davies that he loved to nestle in her lap and confide to her all his secret woes. His younger and fairer associates, who lavished flattery and attention on him, were not half so attractive as the honest dame, who, having nothing to gain or lose, always told him the truth. The royal boy's religious education had not been neglected; prayers had been read to him twice every day by his chaplain; but he never knew what they meant, nobody had taken the trouble to explain them; and he had naturally paid little attention to what he had failed to understand. Mrs. Davies soon comprehended where the difficulty lay; and it was from her lips that the duke learned the Lord's Prayer, the Creed, the Ten Commandments, and several hymns, all of which were carefully and patiently explained until they were made clear to his infant mind.
One Sunday, when the princess was preparing to go to church, her son asked if he might accompany her. She was surprised, because he had never made such a request before, but gave permission. Then the little Duke of Gloucester ran to inform his governess, Lady Fitzharding, who asked him if he would say the psalms,—a performance to which he had always objected.
"I will sing them," proudly replied the boy; thus showing the effect of his aged friend's instruction.
One day, while the princess was making her toilet, the boy looked up into her face and asked: "Mamma, why have you two chaplains, and I but one?"
"Pray," returned the mother, with an amused smile, "what do you give your one chaplain?" She merely asked this question to hear what sort of a reply her son would make, and to find out whether he knew that the chaplains of the royal household received no pay.
The little duke looked at her earnestly for a moment, and then said: "Mamma, I give him his liberty!"
The princess laughed heartily at the little boy's unconscious repartee.
On his return to Campden House the Duke of Gloucester found his soldier company posted as sentinels on guard, and they received their commander with presented arms and all the honors of war. After that the daily drill took place regularly on an open plain, called Wormwood Common. One morning the duke fell with a pistol in his hand, and hurt his forehead against it. The wound was still bleeding when he reached Campden House, and the ladies began to pity him; but he put on a bold air and told them "that a bullet had grazed his forehead, but that as a soldier he could not cry when wounded."
There was so much ceremony observed among the royal attendants all the time that Mr. Tratt, the tutor, considered it an infringement of his rights when Jenkins, the Welsh usher, undertook to give the Duke of Gloucester his first lessons in fencing and mathematics.
The child ran to his mother every time he learned anything new to make a display of his knowledge; but Jenkins was told to "mind his own business" by those who considered that he ought to be otherwise employed. Lady Fitz-harding, in particular, found great fault with his filling the duke's head with such "stuff" as mathematics, and seemed to regard the figures drawn in geometry some sort of magic-signs that savored of witchcraft. But her husband eased her mind by assuring her that Lewis Jenkins "was a good youth, who had read much, but meant no harm." The princess ordered Lord Fitzharding to hinder Jenkins from teaching her son anything, because he might get wrong ideas, that it would be hard to correct when he began to study according to the regular method.
Shortly after she saw the duke fencing with a wooden sword, and defending himself against the attack of an imaginary foe. "I thought I forbade your people to fence with you," observed her royal highness.
"Oh yes, mamma," replied the child; "but I hope you will give them leave to defend themselves when I attack them."
He never tired of hearing tales from ancient history, and could recite many exploits of the heroes, much to the disgust of the tutor, who knew that the knowledge had not been imparted by him.
On the return of her brother-in-law in the autumn, Princess Anne wrote him a letter of congratulation on his conquest of Namur. The one she wrote after the death of the queen had resulted so favorably to herself that she expected equally pleasant effects from the present one; but she soon found her mistake, for the king had come home in a bad humor, and treated her letter with silent contempt. Perhaps congratulations seemed out of place when he remembered that the lives of twelve thousand men had paid the cost of his victory, besides an enormous sum of money.
A few weeks later he made a state visit to Campden House, when the duke received him with military honors. The king was very much amused, and asked the child "whether he had any horses yet."
"Oh yes," replied he, "I have one live horse and two dead ones."
"You keep dead horses, do you?" asked his majesty. "That is not the way with soldiers, for they always bury their dead horses."
The little duke was impressed by what his uncle had said, and determined to be as much like a real soldier as possible; so he summoned his regiment as soon as the king had departed, and buried his two hobby horses that he had designated as dead ones. A Shetland pony, no larger than a Newfoundland dog, was his riding animal.
During the king's absence Princess Anne had received all due honors, as first royal lady of the realm, and this gratified her ambition entirely; but when his majesty thought fit to confer upon his favorite, Bentinck, and his heirs forever, all the rights of the Princess of Wales, not only was Anne justly indignant at seeing her son deprived of his privileges, but the whole country viewed the action with extreme disfavor, and the House of Commons contested it with great warmth. William III. was compelled to revoke the grant; but the hard feeling it had aroused in the mind of Princess Anne remained, and his majesty took no pains to conciliate her. On the contrary, as soon as he was convinced that the removal of his wife had not affected his position, he began to regret the alliance he had formed with his sister-in-law, and treated her with marked disrespect. He even forbade the members of the clergy to bow before her previous to beginning their sermons, according to the custom in the Church of England at that time. To be sure, the Dean of Canterbury and the rector of St. James's Church did not pay the slightest attention to the prohibition, and the princess always returned their salute with marked civility.
King William had become dreadfully irritable since the death of his wife. We know that he was naturally surly and ill-natured; but his fondness for Holland gin excited him to such a degree that he would cane his inferior servants if they chanced to neglect even the most trifling duty. The way they tried to dodge his majesty when he was in an unusually fractious mood was amusing, and the members of the royal household called those who were obliged to submit to the blows "King William's Knights of the Cane."
A French servant, who had charge of his majesty's guns, and who attended him in his shooting excursions in the Hampden Court park, forgot one day to provide himself with shot, although it was his duty to load the fowling-piece. He did not dare to acknowledge his neglect, but kept charging the gun with powder only, and every time the king fired would exclaim, "I did never,—no, never, see his majesty miss before." Thus are petty tyrants invariably deceived.
A.D. 1696.
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As the anniversary of King William's birthday approached there was a flutter of excitement at court, and all the beaux and belles of the English nobility flocked to town to attend the grand reception that was to take place. This was no pleasure to William, for he had been aided in such matters by his wife, who had known better how to conduct herself on such occasions than he did; and now that he had to undertake a ceremony which he disliked, with no one one to guide him, he felt his bereavement more deeply than ever. If he had been friendly towards Anne he might have enlisted her services, and escaped from some of the etiquette that was so irksome to him. But instead of that, he actually treated her with no more consideration than he showed to the wives of the aldermen and common councilmen, and kept her waiting with them for nearly two hours in the ante-chamber. This insult was repeated on several similar occasions, until the public began to murmur, and the English officials who had access to the king took the liberty of reminding him that her royal highness was his superior by birth, and that the nation would not submit to his showing contempt towards their princess. Then his majesty deemed it prudent to alter his arrangements, and at the future receptions the lord chamberlain was instructed to usher her royal highness into the presence chamber immediately on her arrival. After that, all her attendants were treated with respect, and the king showed himself enough of a diplomatist to extend favors that would redound to his own credit. He called at Campden House and requested Princess Anne and her husband to take possession of St. James's Palace as soon as they pleased, and further surprised them with the announcement that as a garter had fallen into his possession by the death of Lord Strafford, he intended to bestow it upon his nephew, the Duke of Gloucester. This visit was succeeded by one from Burnet, the Bishop of Salisbury, who came with the information that a meeting of the Order of the Garter would be held on the sixth of January, and asked the duke if the thought of becoming a knight did not please him. "I am more pleased at the king's favor," was the discreet reply.
It was King William himself who buckled on the little duke's garter and presented the star, both of which he was to wear daily forever after,—though that office was usually performed by one of the knights.
After resting for awhile in his mother's room on his return to Campden-House, the duke went to his play-room, where he met Harry Scull, his favorite drummer. "Your dream has come true, Harry," gladly announced the royal boy, displaying his star and garter to his companion, who had dreamed that he saw his commander so adorned.
At this period the duke's malady seems to have been for a time arrested, for he looked well and was full of animal spirits. This rendered his mother happier than she had been in many a day, besides she was residing in the palace of her ancestors, her rank was recognized by the king and his government, and she regularly received a liberal income. Windsor Castle was granted to her for her summer residence, though it was occasionally shared by her royal brother-in-law, who had reserved for his exclusive use Hampton Court and Kensington Palace. There was only one flaw in the happiness of Princess Anne at this period, and that was a report that when the king returned from his summer campaign there was a probability that he would bring home a Dutch bride.
Meanwhile, the Duke of Gloucester was taken to Windsor, for the first time, in company with his parents. The princess ordered Mrs. Atkinson to show her son the royal apartments in the castle, and to give him a description of the pictures. The child was particularly pleased with St. George's Hall, and clapped his hands with delight as he declared that the noble apartment would be just the place for him to fight his battles in. Next day four boys were summoned from Eaton School to be the duke's companions. They were young Lord Churchill, a mild, good-natured boy, somewhat older than the duke, son of Lord and Lady Marlborough, the two Bathursts, and Peter Boscawen. As soon as they appeared, the duke proposed that a battle should be fought in St. George's Hall, and sent for all his pikes, swords, and muskets. The music gallery, and the stairs leading to it, were to represent the castle that he meant to besiege. Mrs. Atkinson and Lewis Jenkins were in attendance, and both were expected to take part in the battle. Young Boscawen and Peter Bathurst were the enemy, and had been secretly requested not to hurt the duke; but in the heat of the fray the latter lost the sheath from his sword, and before he made the discovery had wounded the duke in the neck.
Jenkins stopped the battle to ascertain the nature of the wound; but, staunching the blood with his handkerchief, the youth rushed up the stairs into the enemy's garrison.
When the battle was over, the duke asked Mrs. Atkinson if she had a surgeon near by.
"Oh, yes," she replied, "bustling about to revive the soldiers who pretended to be dead or dying."
"Pray make no jest of it," urged the child, "for Peter Bathurst has really wounded me in the battle."
The hurt was bathed and plastered up, and no serious consequence resulted; but there are not, I fancy, many boys less than seven years of age who would have continued the game, as the duke did, with the blood trickling from a wound. The sight of blood terrifies some children. Not so with the Duke of Gloucester; for when he attended his first hunt at Windsor Park, the deer's throat was cut, after it had been shot, just at his feet. Then Mr. Massam, his page, dipped his hand in the blood and smeared it all over the duke's face. This excited great surprise; but on being informed that such was the custom at first seeing a deer slain, the mischievous little duke dipped his hands in the blood and besmeared the faces of Jenkins and all the boys.
Princess Anne shrieked with terror one day when walking in the park with her husband to see her son roll down the hill of one of the castle fortifications, but he reassured her by declaring that when he was engaged in battles and sieges he would have to get used to descending such places. Prince George laughed, and always encouraged the child to such exploits with the hope of thereby making him more hardy.
July 24, being the Duke of Gloucester's birthday, a grand banquet was given at St. George's Hall, at the king's expense, to the Knights of the Garter. The princess was present, and had the proud satisfaction of seeing her son walk in procession with the other knights from St. George's Chapel to the hall. All the gentlemen wore their splendid robes of the order, and took their places at the long tables in accordance with their rank. The little duke appeared in his plumes and all the gorgeous regalia that had been provided for him, and comported himself among the full-grown knights with wonderful dignity.
In the evening the princess gave a splendid ball, and received all the nobility, many of whom came from different parts of the country to do honor to the occasion. The town of Windsor was illuminated, bells rang out merrily, and the bright blaze of bonfires lit up the surrounding scene for a great distance. There were besides fireworks on the terrace, which delighted the young duke beyond everything. The entertainment concluded with a musical drama, written expressly to celebrate the birthday.
A few days later another festival to celebrate the wedding anniversary of Princess Anne and Prince George of Denmark was held. In the morning the royal couple went to visit their son, and found him superintending the firing of his little cannon in honor of the day. Three rounds were fired, which almost deafened the royal mamma, and excited her fears because of the quantity of gunpowder the duke had at his command. After this salute the boy approached his parents of his own accord, and, making a profound bow, said: "Papa, I wish you and mamma unity, peace, and concord,—not for a time, but forever." Of course the parents were charmed with the courtesy and respect of their little pet, and embraced him warmly.
Some hours later, Jenkins said to him: "You made a fine compliment to their royal highnesses to-day, sir," whereupon the child returned, with gravity, "It was no compliment; it was sincere." Thus the little fellow constantly made remarks far beyond his years, and excited the wonder and admiration of all who surrounded him.
A.D. 1697. At the beginning of the new year great excitement prevailed because of the discovery of a plot against the life of the king. Sir John Fenwick was discovered to be at the head of it, and was arrested on a charge of high treason. When he found that he was to suffer death without a regular trial, Sir John gave such extraordinary evidence against the majority of the nobility, including most of the king's ministers, whom he accused of corresponding with James II., that it was said if half of the number had been arrested for treason there would not have been enough left to hang or behead the rest. Marlborough was aimed at particularly; but that could have been no surprise to William, who knew that the earl not only wrote himself during Queen Mary's lifetime, but induced Princess Anne to do likewise. But his majesty winked at this accusation, because he was convinced that personal interest would now prompt the princess and her party to continue loyal to him. Fenwick was beheaded on Tower Hill, and all his revelations were quietly ignored, but the king took pains to possess himself of all Sir John's private papers. He also kept a remarkable sorrel shooting pony that had belonged to him; but of this animal we shall hear more in the future.
Twelve gentlemen were executed the same year for plotting to waylay William and kill him, in the midst of his guards, on his return from a hunting expedition. The public were on the alert for any bit of news they could glean, and excitement ran high during the trials and executions, which took place at intervals throughout the year. Associations were formed for the protection of the king, and all sorts of addresses, containing assurances of loyalty, were sent to him from corporations and private individuals. The Duke of Gloucester was one of the latter. He caused one of his soldiers, older than himself, to write the following document, to which he affixed his signature, for he could read and write quite well for so young a person:—
I, your majesty's most dutiful subject, had rather lose my life in your majesty's cause than in any man's else, and I hope it will not be long ere you conquer France. Gloucester.
Another address from the same source, signed by all his boy-soldiers and the various members of the household, ran thus: "We, your majesty's subjects, will stand by you while we have a drop of blood." Such proceedings on the part of the little duke convinced William III. that the princess was bringing up her son as his partisan, and that at least was gratifying.
He honored the festival given on the anniversary of Princess Anne's birth with his presence, and witnessed the introduction at court of the young duke, who appeared in a rich blue velvet coat. All the button-holes were studded with diamonds, and each button was composed of a superb brilliant, some of which had belonged to Queen Mary, and were presented by the king to her sister after her death.
When the boy had been installed as Knight of the Garter, his majesty had presented him with a jewel worth seven hundred pounds, which he wore also on this occasion. His flowing white periwig did not detract from the beauty of his clear bright complexion and soft blue eyes; and the little duke was the centre of attraction, surrounded by a bevy of lords and ladies, who flocked to her royal highness' drawing-room.
The king was very fond of his little nephew, and, indeed, of all children, as this anecdote goes to prove: He was waiting one day in a private room for one of his secretaries, who was rather later than usual, when a gentle tap was heard on the door. "Who is there?" asked the king. "Lord Buck," was the reply; whereupon the king arose, opened the door and beheld a little boy four years of age. It was young Lord Buckhurst, son of the Lord High Chamberlain.
"And what does Lord Buck want?" asked William.
"I want you to be my horse; I have waited for you a long time."
With an amiable smile, his majesty took hold of the wagon, and dragged the little noble up and down the long gallery until he was satisfied. From the matter-of-fact way in which this favor was received by the child, there was ample proof that King William was not on duty as horse for the first time.
A.D. 1698. Up to this year the education of the Duke of Gloucester had been left in his mother's charge, because he was by no means strong, and it was not considered advisable to push him too fast. He had now arrived at the age of eight, and like all other royal children he would probably be given in charge to some great noble or clergyman. His mother dreaded the idea of parting with the delicate child, whom she had reared with so much difficulty, and was willing to make any sacrifice rather than to do so. Parliament voted the enormous sum of fifty thousand pounds per annum for the education and establishment of the Duke of Gloucester, but the king had power to dispose of the child. This was what alarmed the fond mother, for she knew that if he chose to exercise this power his majesty could annoy her excessively. It was therefore happiness to find that he only insisted on two points: one was to manage to pay out as little of the fifty thousand pounds per annum, as possible; the other was that Dr. Burnet, Bishop of Salisbury, should fill the post of preceptor. This appointment was by no means agreeable to the princess, but the king was inexorable, and she was forced to submit. The duke was to live at Windsor, and the bishop was to have ten weeks of each year to attend to duties that would oblige him to give his pupil a vacation. Strange to say, the Earl of Marlborough was appointed chief governor to the young duke notwithstanding the king's former hatred of him. But this is not so remarkable as it may at first appear, if we consider that the majority of the council of nine were Marlborough's friends, who knew his power and the influence he exercised over the mind of the heiress to the throne. The appointment was therefore popular with them, particularly as he was of their number. Then again, instead of believing for a moment that in the event of his death, Marlborough and Princess Anne would desire to recall King James or his son, the king calculated that they would renounce any claim but that of the Duke of Gloucester, over whose mind the earl would have established an empire, and in whose interest he would betray the distant heir. The appointment of Marlborough was eminently satisfactory to the princess, and there were few alterations made in the list she sent of other officers for her son's household.
Lady Marlborough continued in the Princess Anne's household, but after her husband's lofty appointment she became somewhat arrogant and overbearing. The princess could not help noticing this change, which extended even to herself, and sometimes she would let fall a word or two of complaint to Abigail Hill, an humble relation of Lady Marlborough, to whom she was indebted for her position at court.
A.D. 1699. During the next year or two Princess Anne continued her court with unusual splendor, while the little duke studied so hard that all his vivacity disappeared, and when he was ten years of age his face had a worn look, old enough for a youth of seventeen at least, and pitiful to behold.
We have said very little about the duke's father, for the simple reason that he led an easy, luxurious sort of a life, inoffensive and void of ambition. Somebody said of him:
"That, though he was not quite dead, he had to breathe hard to prevent being buried, because nobody perceived any other sign of life in him." Perhaps it would be well for mankind if other princes were as quiet; certainly he spared himself a deal of trouble by not interfering with public affairs.
We have seen that Bishop Burnet was appointed preceptor to the Duke of Gloucester; he was at the same time almoner to her majesty, the princess, and one of the most conceited men that ever lived. He usually preached at St. James's, and although Queen Mary had declared that his were "thundering long sermons," he could not comprehend why the ladies at court failed to give him their undivided attention. It seems that the women of the seventeenth century would cast sly glances at the beaux in church, and examine the costumes of the belles just as they do in the present one; but Bishop Burnet would not submit to such disrespect towards his own sweet self. He wanted every eye fixed on him while he preached; so, after making several complaints to Princess Anne, he at last hit upon a remedy which met with her approval. It was to have the pews where the ladies sat so barricaded with high railings that the occupants could only see beyond them by raising their eyes, and as he was the only high object when in the pulpit, they must look at him or at no man. Of course this arrangement excited indignation of the fair damsels no less than of the courtiers, one of whom vented his wrath by the composition of a ballad that he took good care should come under the notice of the intermeddling bishop. It ran thus:—
"When Burnet perceived that the beautiful dames.
Who flocked to the chapel of holy St. James.
On their lovers alone their kind looks did bestow.
And smiled not at him when he bellowed below,
To the Princess he went,
With a pious intent,
This dangerous ill in the church to prevent.
'Oh, madam,' he said, ' our religion is lost,
If the ladies thus ogle the knights of the toast.
"'Your highness observes how I labor and sweat,
Their affections to raise and attention to get;
And sure when I preach, all the world will agree,
That their eyes and their ears should be pointed at me
But now I can find
No beauty so kind,
My parts to regard or my person to mind;
Nay, I scarce have the sight of one feminine face
But those of Old Oxford and ugly Arglass.
"'These practices, madam, my preaching disgrace.
Shall laymen enjoy the just rights of my place?
Then all may lament my condition so hard,
Who thrash in the pulpit without a reward.
Therefore pray condescend
Such disorders to end,
And to the ripe vineyard the laborers send,
To build up the seats that the beauties may see
The face of no brawling pretender but me.'
"The Princess by the man's importunity prest,
Though she laugh'd at his reasons allowed his request.
And now Britain's nymphs in a Protestant reign
Are locked up at prayers like the virgins in Spain."
A.D. 1700. The eleventh birthday of the Duke of Gloucester was celebrated at Windsor with the usual rejoicings. The boy reviewed his soldiers, received and made presents, fired his cannon at intervals during the day, and presided over a grand banquet in the evening. His system was very much run down by the strain of hard study, and this day of excitement proved too much for him. The following morning found him with a sick headache and sore throat, and towards night he became delirious. The family physician reduced the little duke's vitality still further by bleeding him according to the custom of the times. He grew worse, and there was great lamentation in the royal household because the princess's quarrel with Dr. Radcliffe prevented his being summoned, for everybody had confidence in his skill. At last a messenger was dispatched with a humble request to the doctor to visit the little sufferer. After a great deal of urging he consented, and pronounced the disease scarlet fever. He asked who bled the duke. The physician in attendance replied that he had done so. "Then you have destroyed him, and you may finish him," said Radcliffe, "for I will not prescribe."
Of course the learned man was much censured for wilfully refusing to save the child, but he knew only too well that all his efforts would have been of no avail. Five days after his birthday festival the little duke expired.
Lord Marlborough, who had gone to Althorpe, was summoned to the sick bed of his youthful master, but arrived too late.
The bereaved mother watched beside her dying boy to the end, hoping against hope; and when nothing remained but his lifeless body, she arose, and with an expression of sad resignation on her countenance, quietly left the room. Then her thoughts were directed towards the father she had wronged, and she wrote him a letter filled with the most penitent expressions, and telling him that she looked upon her cruel loss as a blow from Heaven in punishment of her cruelty towards him. Retribution had come at last! At that moment, when the object in whom all her hopes were centered lay cold in death, Princess Anne yearned for the sympathy of the parent who had ever been most kind and indulgent to her, and she immediately sent her letter to St. Germain by express.
Lord Marlborough forwarded the sad news to King William, but his majesty made no reply for three whole months. The reason for this neglect was because Anne had written to her father, and the king found it out, although it was managed, as she thought, very secretly. William had always shown so much affection for his nephew that his failing to send any message of condolence or sorrow was the more remarkable.
The little duke's remains lay in state in the suite of apartments he had occupied, and afterwards they were removed to Westminster, to be interred in Henry VII.'s Chapel. The English ambassador at the court of France was placed in a very embarrassing position, because his sovereign did not order him how to proceed with regard to the Duke of Gloucester's death. The fact is William was in a fit of temper, possibly caused by the sad event, and so cared not how he perplexed others. Besides, although he had loved the dead boy, he despised the parents, and paid no more respect to their feelings than if they had lost a favorite dog. At last, after the expiration of two months, he ordered a fortnight's mourning, which was very little. Three months after the death of the little duke, King William condescended to write, not to the afflicted parents, but to Lord Marlborough, and this is a copy of the remarkable missive:—
"I do not think it necessary to employ many words in expressing my surprise and grief at the death of the Duke of Gloucester. It is so great a loss to me, as well as to all England, that it pierces my heart with affliction."