Produced by Al Haines.
GOD AND THE KING
BY
MARJORIE BOWEN
AUTHOR OF "I WILL MAINTAIN"
'LUCTOR ET EMERGO MOTTO OF ZEELAND
METHUEN & GO. LTD 36 ESSEX STREET W.C. LONDON
_Published in 1911_
DEDICATED VERY GRATEFULLY TO MAJOR-GENERAL F. DE BAS DIRECTOR OF THE MILITARY HISTORICAL BRANCH GENERAL STAFF OF THE DUTCH ARMY
CONTENTS
PART I THE REVOLUTION
CHAP.
I. THE AFTERNOON OF JUNE 30TH, 1688 II. THE EVENING OF JUNE 30TH, 1688 III. THE NIGHT OF JUNE 30TH, 1688 IV. THE MESSENGER FROM ENGLAND V. THE PRINCESS OF ORANGE VI. THE LETTERS OF MR. HERBERT VII. THE SILENT WOOD VIII. THE POLICY OF THE PRINCE IX. FRANCE MOVES X. THE ENGLISH AMBASSADOR XI. THREE PAWNS XII. FRANCE MOVES AGAIN XIII. THE GREAT ENTERPRISE XIV. STORMS XV. THE SECOND SAILING XVI. NEWS FROM ENGLAND XVII. FAREWELL TO HOLLAND XVIII. BY THE GRACE OF GOD
PART II THE QUEEN
I. A DARK DAWNING II. THE KING AT BAY III. THE BEST OF LIFE IV. THE SECRET ANGUISH V. A WOMAN'S STRENGTH VI. GOD SAVE THE QUEEN! VII. THE SHADOW VIII. FEAR IX. CHRISTMAS EVE X. THE QUEEN XI. THE BITTER PARTING
PART III THE KING
I. *VITA SINE AMOR MORS EST* II. THE KING IS NEEDED III. ATTAINMENT IV. A MAN'S STRENGTH V. A LEADER OF NATIONS VI. THE KING'S AGENT VII. THE BANK OF ENGLAND VIII. THE BREAKING FRIENDSHIP IX. PEACE X. THE BROKEN FRIENDSHIP XI. THE KING'S HUMILIATION XII. APATHY XIII. FRANCE CHALLENGES XIV. THE VANGUARD OF THE WORLD XV. THE EVE OF WAR XVI. GOD AND THE KING
PART I
THE REVOLUTION
"Un prince profond dans ses vues; habile a former des ligues et a reunirles esprits; plus heureux a exciter les guerres qu'a combattre; plus acraindre encore dans le secret du cabinet, qu'a la tete des armees; unennemi que la haine du nom Francais avoit rendu capable d'imaginer degrandes chose et de les executer; un de ces genies qui semblent etre nespour mouvoir a leur gre les peuples et les souverains--un grandhomme...."--MASSILLON, _Oraison Funebre de M. le Dauthin_.
CHAPTER I
THE AFTERNOON OF JUNE 30th, 1688
"There is no managing an unreasonable people. By Heaven, my lord, theydo not deserve my care."
The speaker was standing by an open window that looked on to one of thecourts of Whitehall Palace, listening to the unusual and tumultuousnoises that filled the sweet summer air--noises of bells, of shouting,the crack of fireworks, and the report of joyous mock artillery.
It was late afternoon, and the small apartment was already left by thedeparting daylight and obscured with a dusky shade, but no candles werelit.
There was one other person in the room, a gentleman seated opposite thewindow at a tall black cabinet decorated with gold lacquer Chinesefigures, that showed vivid even in the twilight. He was watching hiscompanion with a gentle expression of judgment, and twirling in his slimfingers a half-blown white rose.
An over-richness of furniture, hangings, and appointments distinguishedthe chamber, which was little more than a cabinet. The flush of richhues in the Mortlake tapestries, the gold on the China bureau, themarble, gilt, and carving about the mantel, two fine and worldly Italianpaintings and crystal sconces, set in silver, combined to give the placean overpowering air of lavishness; noticeable in one corner was a largeebony and enamel crucifix.
The persons of these two gentlemen were in keeping with this air ofwealth, both being dressed in an opulent style, but in themselves theydiffered entirely from each other.
Neither was young, and both would have been conspicuous in any companyfor extreme handsomeness, but there was no further likeness.
He at the window was by many years the older, and past the prime oflife, but the magnificence of his appearance created no impression ofage.
Unusually tall, finely made and graceful, he carried himself with greatdignity; his countenance, which had been of the purest type ofaristocratic beauty, was now lined and marred--not so much by years, asby a certain gloom and sourness that had become his permanentexpression; his eyes were large, grey, and commanding, his mouth noble,but disfigured by a sneer, his complexion blond and pale, his nosedelicately formed and straight; a fair peruke shaded his face and hungon to his shoulders; he was dressed, splendidly but carelessly, in deepblue satins, a quantity of heavy Venice lace, and a great sword belt ofembroidered leather.
The other gentleman was still in the prime of life, being under fifty,and looking less than his age.
Slight in build, above the medium height, and justly proportioned,handsome and refined in feature, dressed with great richness in theutmost extreme of fashion, he appeared the very type of a noble idlecourtier, but in his long, straight, heavy-lidded eyes, thin sensitivemouth, and the deeply cut curve of his nostril was an expression ofpower and intelligence above that of a mere favourite of courts.
He wore his own fair hair frizzed and curled out on to his shoulders andbrought very low on to his forehead; under his chin was a knot of blacksatin that accentuated the pale delicacy of his complexion; every detailof his attire showed the same regard to his appearance and the mode.Had it not been for that unconscious look of mastery in the calm face hewould have seemed no more than a wealthy man of fashion. In hisbeautifully formed and white hands he held, as well as the rose, ahandkerchief that he now and then pressed to his lips; in great contrastto the other man, who appeared self-absorbed and natural, his movementsand his pose were extremely affected.
A pause of silence wore out; the man at the window beat his fingersimpatiently on the high walnut back of the chair beside him, thensuddenly turned a frowning face towards the darkening room.
"My lord, what doth this presage?"
He asked the question heavily and as if he had much confidence and trustin the man to whom he spoke.
My lord answered instantly, in a voice as artificial as the fastidiousappointments of his dress.
"Nothing that Your Majesty's wisdom and the devotion of your servantscannot control and dispel."
James Stewart turned his eyes again to the open casement.
"Do you take it so lightly, my lord?" he asked uneasily. "All Londonshouting for these disloyal prelates--the city against me?"
Lord Sunderland replied, his peculiarly soothing tones lowered to a kindof caressing gentleness, while he kept his eyes fixed on the King.
"Not the city, sir. Your Majesty heareth but the mobile--the handfulthat will always rejoice at a set given to authority. The people loveYour Majesty and applaud your measures."
"But I am not popular as my brother was," said the King, but halfsatisfied, and with an angry look towards London.
The Earl was ready with his softly worded reassurances.
"His late Majesty never put his popularity to the test--I think he couldnot have done what you have, sir--is not the true Faith"--here my lordcrossed himself--"predominant in England--hath Your Majesty anyProtestant left
in office--have you not an Ambassador at the Vatican, isnot a holy Jesuit father on the Council board, Mass heard publicly inWhitehall--the papal Nuncio openly received?--and hath not Your Majestydone these great things in three short years?"
A glow overspread the King's sombre face; he muttered a few words of aLatin prayer, and bent his head.
"I have done a little," he said--"a little----"
Sunderland lowered his eyes.
"Seeing this is a Protestant nation, Your Majesty hath done a deal."
The King was silent a moment, then spoke, gloomy again.
"But, save yourself, my lord, and Dover and Salisbury, no person ofconsequence hath come into the pale of the Church--and how hath myDeclaration of Indulgence been received? Discontent, disobedience fromthe clergy, insolence from the Bishops, and now this,--near torebellion!" His eyes darkened. "Could you have heard the army onHounslow Heath, my lord--they shouted as one man to hear these traitorshad been acquitted."
He began to stride up and down the room, talking sternly, half tohimself, half to Sunderland, the speech of an angry, obstinate man.
"But I'll not give way. Who is this Jack Somers who defended them?Make a note of him--some Whig cur! The Dissenters too, what is theAnglican Church to them that they must stand by her? Do I not offerthem also freedom of conscience? Do not they also benefit by the repealof the Test Act?"
Sunderland made no remark; he sat with his hand over the lower part ofhis face. By the expression of his eyes it might seem that he wassmiling; but the light was fading, and James did not look at hisminister.
"I'll break the Colleges too. Let them look to it. I'll go on. Am Inot strong enough? They are rebels at Oxford--I'll take norebellion--that was my father's fault; he was not strong enough atfirst--it must be put down now--now, eh, my Lord Sunderland?"
He stopped abruptly before the Earl, who rose with an air of humility.
"It is my poor opinion, oft repeated, that Your Majesty must stop fornothing, but take these grumblers with a firm hand and crush them."
This counsel, though not new, seemed to please the King.
"You have ever given me good advice, my lord." He paused, then added,"Father Petre is always speaking against you, but I do not listen--no, Ido not listen."
"It is my misfortune to be unpopular with the Catholics, though I havedone what might be for their service."
"I do not listen," repeated the King hastily; he seated himself in thecarved chair beside the bureau. "But I must tell you one thing," headded, after an instant. "M. Barillon thinketh I go too far."
Sunderland remained standing.
"He hath told me so," he answered quietly.
"What doth he mean?" asked James eagerly, and with the air of dependingentirely on the other's interpretation.
"This," replied the Earl suavely--"that, good friend as His ChristianMajesty is to you, it doth not suit his pride that you, sir, should growgreat without his help--he would rather have Your Majesty the slave thanthe master of the people, rather have you dependent on him than a freeally."
"I'll not be dictated to," said the King. "My brother was too much thecreature of Louis, but I will not have him meddle in my affairs."
"M. Barillon doth his duty to his master," answered the Earl. "YourMajesty need pay no attention to his warnings----"
"Warnings!" echoed the King, with sullen fire. "I take no warnings froman Ambassador of France." Then he sat forward and added in a quick,half-baffled fashion, "Yet there are dangers----"
"What dangers, sire?"
"The people are so stubborn----"
"They complain but they bow, sire; and soon they will not evencomplain."
"Then M. Barillon mentioned----" The King paused abruptly.
"What, sire?"
"My nephew, William."
As he spoke James glanced quickly at Sunderland, who returned the gazecalmly and mildly.
"My nephew, William--what is he plotting?"
"Plotting, Your Majesty?"
"He hath never been friendly to me," broke out the King fiercely. "Whydid he refuse his consent to the Indulgence?--he who hath always stoodfor toleration?"
"As the head of the Protestant interest in Europe he could do no less,sire."
"He hath suborned my daughter," continued the King, in the same tone."Seduced her from her duty--but now"--he crossed himself--"God bethanked, I have an heir. I do not need to so consider theseCalvinists"--he gave the word an accent of bitter dislike--"yet I doubthe meaneth mischief----"
"I do not think so, sire. His hands are so full in keeping his owncountry afloat he can scarce have the time to meddle----"
The King interrupted.
"He _doth_ meddle--his design is to drag me into a war with France--Idoubt he hath more intrigues afoot in England than we wot of, my lord.Did M. de Zuylestein come wholly to congratulate us on the birth of thePrince? He is over often closeted with the Whig lords--and so wasDyckfelt--a knowing man."
Sunderland answered frankly.
"His Highness must have an interest in the kingdom of which his wife wastill so lately the heiress, and I doubt not that he would try to fosterdiscontents among the opposition, since he can hardly like the presentpolicy of Your Majesty, having all his life been under the endeavour ofpersuading England to join his coalition against France--but he hath notthe power (nor, I think, the will) to disturb Your Majesty."
James smiled reflectively.
"I believe he hath his hands full," he admitted. "He is not so steadyin the states." His smile deepened as he thought on the criticalsituation of his son-in-law, then vexation conquered, and he addedsharply, "M. Barillon said he but waited a chance to openlyinterfere--he would not send the English regiments back, which lookedill, and he is very friendly with Mr. Sidney----"
The King paused.
"Mr. Sidney is your uncle, my lord," he added, after a little, "and aclose friend of the Prince of Orange--I was warned of that."
"By M. de Barillon?" asked Sunderland gently.
"Yes, my lord. But I took no heed of it--yet is it true that my LadySunderland wrote often to Mr. Sidney when he was at The Hague, and thatyou were privy to it?"
"There was some little exchange of gallantries, sire, no more. My ladyis close friends with Mr. Sidney, and would commission him for horses,plants, candles, and such things as can be bought with advantage at TheHague."
"And did she write to the Lady Mary?"
Sunderland smiled.
"She had that honour once--the subject was a recipe for treacle water."
"Well, well," said the King, in a relieved tone of half apology, "I amso hedged about I begin to distrust my best servants. I must be shortwith M. Barillon; he maketh too much of my friendship with His Majesty."
"That is the jealousy of France, sire, that ever desireth a hand in youraffairs."
James answered testily.
"Let them take care. M. Barillon said my envoys abroad had sent mewarning of what my nephew designed--that is not true, my lord?"
"I have received no such letters, sire, and Your Majesty's foreigncorrespondence toucheth no hands but mine."
The King rose and struck the bell on the black lacquer cabinet; hisexceedingly ill-humour was beginning, as always, to be softened by theinfluence of Lord Sunderland, who had more command over him than eventhe Jesuit, Father Petre, who was commonly supposed to be his mostintimate counsellor.
When the summons was answered the King called for candles, and went overto the window again.
The dusk was stained with the glow of a hundred bonfires, lit by goodProtestants in honour of the acquittal of the seven bishops charged withtreason for offering His Majesty a petition against the reading of theDeclaration of Indulgence from the pulpits of the Anglican churches; theverdict and the demonstration were alike hateful to the King, and hecould scarce restrain his furious chagrin as he saw the triumphantrockets leap into the deep azure sky.
He thought bitterly of the murmuring army on Hounslow
Heath; had theybeen steadfastly loyal he would hardly have restrained from setting themon to the defiant capital which they had been gathered together tooverawe.
The candles were brought, and lit the rich little chamber with a ruddylight that showed the glitter of glass and gilt, lacquer and silver, themoody face of the King, and the calm countenance of his minister.
"My nephew would never dare," muttered His Majesty at last, "nor wouldMary be so forgetful of her duty----" He turned into the room again."I think you are right, my lord; he hath too much to do at home. But Iam glad I did recall Mr. Sidney--a Republican at heart--who is like hisbrother."
"Of what designs doth Your Majesty suspect the Prince?" asked Sunderlandquietly.
The King answered hastily.
"Nothing--nothing."
"Doth M. de Barillon," asked the Earl, "think His Highness might do whatMonmouth did?"
At this mention of that other unhappy nephew of his who had paid for hisbrief rebellion on Tower Hill, the King's face cleared of its look ofdoubt.
"If he tried," he answered sombrely, "he would meet with the samereception--by Heaven, he would! No gentleman joined Monmouth, nonewould join the Prince."
"'Tis certain," said Sunderland. "But what causeth Your Majesty toimagine His Highness would attempt so wild a design as an armed descenton England?"
"He buildeth a great navy," remarked James.
"To protect the States against France. Reason showeth that thesuggestion of His Highness' conduct that M. de Barillon hath made isfolly. The Prince is the servant of the States; even if he wished, hecould not use their forces to further his private ends, and is not thePrincess daughter to Your Majesty, and would she help in an act ofrebellion against you?"
"No," replied the King, "no--I do not think it. If the Dutch do chooseto build a few ships am I to be stopped? My Lord Halifax," he added,with eagerness, "advised the giving back of the city charters and thereinstatement of the Fellows of Magdalen--but I will not--I'll break'em, all the disloyal lot of 'em."
A slight smile curved my lord's fine lips.
"Halifax is ever for timorous counsels."
"A moderate man!" cried James. "I dislike your moderate men--they'vedamned many a cause and never made one. I'll have none of their soberpolitics."
"The best Your Majesty can do," said Sunderland, "is to gain theDissenters, call a packed parliament of them and the Catholics in theautumn, pass the repeal of the Test Act, treat French interferencefirmly, strengthen the army, and bring the Irish to overawe London.There will be no murmurs against your authority this time a year hence."
James gave my lord a pleased glance.
"Your views suit with mine," he replied. "I'll officer the army withCatholics--and look to those two judges who favoured these bishops. Wewill remove them from the bench."
He was still alternating between ill-humour at the open display offeeling on the occasion of the public cross he had received in thematter of the bishops and the satisfaction my lord's wholly congenialcounsel gave his obstinate self-confidence. A certain faith in himselfand in the office he held, a still greater trust in the religion towhich he was so blindly devoted, a tyrannical belief in firm measuresand in the innate loyalty of church and people made this son of CharlesI, sitting in the very palace from which his father had stepped on tothe scaffold at the command of a plain gentleman from Hampshire, revolveschemes for the subjugation of England more daring than Plantagenet,Tudor, and Stewart had ventured on yet; he desired openly and violentlyto put England into the somewhat reluctant hands of the Pope, and besidethis desire every other consideration was as nothing to His Majesty.
"Let 'em shout," he said. "I can afford it." And he thought of hisyoung heir, whose birth secured the Romish succession in England; anevent that took the sting even from the acquittal of the stubbornbishops.
"Your Majesty is indeed a great and happy Prince," remarked my lord,with that softness that gave his compliments the value of sinceremeaning.
The King went up to him, smiled at him in his heavy way, and touched himaffectionately on the shoulder.
"Well, well," he answered, "you give good advice, and I thank you, mylord."
He fell into silence again, and the Earl took graceful leave, left thecabinet gently, and gently closed the door.
When outside in the corridor he paused like one considering, then wentlightly down the wide stairs.
In the gallery to which he came at the end of the first flight was agroup of splendid gentlemen talking together; my lord would have passedthem, but one came forward and stopped him; he raised his eyes; it wasM. Barillon.
"You have come from His Majesty?"
"Yes, sir," answered the Earl.
"I do hope you did impress on him the need for a great caution," said M.Barillon quickly, and in a lowered voice, "The temper of the people hathbeen very clearly shown to-day."
"I did my utmost," said my lord ardently. "Advised him to makeconcessions, warned him that the Prince was dangerous, but his obstinatetemper would have none of it----"
M. Barillon frowned.
"I hope you were earnest with him, my lord; there is no man hath yourinfluence----"
My lord's long eyes looked steadily into the Frenchman's face.
"Sir," he said, "you must be aware that I have every reason to urge HisMajesty caution, since there is none as deep in his most dislikedmeasures than myself, and if the Whigs were to get the upper hand"--heshrugged gracefully--"you know that there would be no mercy for me."
The French Ambassador answered hastily--
"Not for an instant do I doubt your lordship. Faith, I know HisChristian Majesty hath no such friend as yourself in England--but Iwould impress on you the danger--things reach a crisis, my lord."
He bowed and returned to his companions, while the Earl passed throughthe galleries of Whitehall, filled with courtiers, newsmongers, placeseekers, and politicians, and came out into the courtyard where hischair waited.
While his servant was fetching the sedan my lord put on his laced hatand lingered on the step.
A tall soldier was keeping the guard; my lord regarded him, smiled, andspoke.
"Fellow, who is your master?"
The man flushed, saluted, and stared awkwardly.
"Come," smiled the Earl whimsically. "Whom do you serve?"
The startled soldier answered stupidly--
"God and the King, your honour."
"Ah, very well," answered the Earl slowly; he descended the steps andtook a pinch of snuff. "So do we all--it is merely a question of whichGod and which King."
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