Agnes Strickland's Queens of England (39 page)

One day the little regiment was busily drilling in Kensington Gardens, while the king and queen watched their movements with a great deal of interest. Suddenly the Duke of Gloucester approached his uncle, and gravely offered himself and his whole troop for the Flemish war. Then turning to Queen Mary, he added : " My mamma once had guards as well as you ; why has she not now ? " Her majesty colored and looked surprised, while the king offered the drummer of the regiment two guineas as a reward for the noise he could make ; whereupon the little fellow drowned any further awkward questioning. Of course. Queen Mary knew very well that the prince could not remember when his mother's guard had been dismissed, therefore all the knowledge he had of it was what he had heard from his parents.

The Duke of Gloucester's soldiers were often a nuisance to the neighborhood ; for on their way home after drill they would enter houses on the road to London, and help themselves to any dainty bit of food the larder happened to contain. This they did in imitation of the soldiers quartered in the vicinity of London, and felt especially privileged as " Gloucester's men." Like most people who ape others, it was the bad qualities these little boys selected.

Next time King William returned from Flanders he found the bribery and corruption in his government just as bad as ever, and the new prime minister worse than the old ones had been. Parliament was opened, and charges of the gravest character were brought even against the queen's immediate attendants, in some of whom she reposed the utmost confidence. This was a source of great trouble to Queen Mary, and in the midst of it Archbishop Tillotson fell dead in the pulpit one Sunday while performing the service.

Christmas was approaching, and the royal pair decided

to spend it quietly at Kensington Palace. By the twentieth of December the queen was so ill that she must have had some doubts as to her recovery, for she sat up at her secretary the whole night examining and burning papers that she desired nobody to see. Perhaps this occupation aggravated her illness, for she grew worse, and two days later was considered in danger. Princess Anne sent to ask permission to wait on her majesty. The message was delivered to the first lady-in-waiting, who went into the bed-chamber where the queen lay, and in a few moments returned with the message, " That the king would send an answer the next day."

But the only message received by the Princess Anne was a request to postpone her visit, because it was necessary to keep the queen as quiet as possible. The king was so distressed at his wife's danger that he had his camp-bed removed to her room, and remained with her night and day.

At last Archbishop Tennison, who had replaced Tillot-son, informed the queen that her end was drawing near. She was not at all surprised, and said, " That she thanked God she had left nothing to the last hour; she had then nothing to do but to look up to God and submit to His will."

Then the last rites of the church were administered; but * the queen did not die until the twenty-eighth of December, in the sixth year of her reign, and the thirty-third of her age. Not a word had the dead woman left for the sister with whom she had quarrelled ; not an expression of sorrow or regret for the father whom she had injured.

All the members of the House of Commons marched in the funeral procession, and Queen Mary was interred at Westminster Abbey.

Queen Mary had desired to convert Greenwich Palace

into a retreat for seamen, which work she had begun after the battle of La Hogue, as we have seen. After her death King WiUiam reproached himself for having neglected her wishes in this respect. He lost no time in ordering a plan which was supplied by the well-known architect, Christopher Wren, and soon a magnificent building arose in place of the one that had been burned down. The king did not live to see the completion of this asylum, otherwise a statue of the real foundress would have graced the court. However, the building itself is a noble monument to the memory of Queen Mary II.

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 Mar}- 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

ANNE OF ENGLA.M".

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 Mar>''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 1 do assure your majesty I am as sensibly touched with this sad misfortune as if 1 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 ; otherw^ise 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

Atitie of England.

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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. When Ben-tinck was consulted as to his opinion of the reconciliation, he warned the king against putting

KENSINGTON PALACE.

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 ful-filling ; 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 jDleasure 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 Rad-cliffe was summoned from Oxford, and did all he could for the little sufferer, who had a fever which kept him in bed