by Ron Pearse
"Mr Speaker! The honourable member has accused the Whig ministry of prolonging the war and on behalf of my honourable colleagues, I refute the charge utterly. I would remind the honourable member for Bristol that Louis issued a decree in 1701 that his grandson was eligible for the throne of Spain thus raising the spectre of both kingdoms under one monarch in direct contravention of the Second Partition Treaty of 1700, the previous year. So much for Louis’s promises!"
Walpole paused to allow his words to sink in and he was gratified by applause on his side whereas the opposing members were mute. He smiled and went on:
"Moreover this same king, this Louis, in that same treaty, recognised our late king William as the rightful King of England yet a year later had hailed the exiled Prince of Wales as James III. So much for Louis' s solemn undertakings."
Many feet stamped upon the floor and cheers echoed around him while the opposite benches remained silent. He turned his head to sweep the opposite benches filled with glum faces, and was heartened by the smiling faces of his colleagues. They were enjoying the discomfiture on the opposite benches and knew there was more to come. Walpole resumed:
“Yet this is the monarch the Tories want to trust in giving a solemn promise to persuade Philip of Anjou, his grandson, to vacate the Spanish throne. Were a member of this House guilty of such perfidy, the honourable members opposite would impeach him. The very same penalty, I would remind the House, those Tories moved to do against four members of parliament for their part in that same Partition Treaty."
Again Walpole's voice was drowned in the stamping of feet from his side; there were cheers of 'bravo', 'hear, hear' and such like though not so loud as the warning of the Speaker was still uppermost in members' minds. Walpole paused long after the noise had subsided, and when the chamber was silent, he began again:
"Yet, Mr Speaker, I can name a not so honourable member of this House who did no less than Louis..." He got no further as uproar drowned his voice. There were cries of 'disgraceful', 'name him', 'withdraw', 'hear, hear', 'point of order' and many boos, cheers and stamping of feet. The Speaker shouted for order but it was minutes before it was restored. He said sternly:
"I must remind the House of my earlier warning. I must further remind the honourable member to beware of un-parliamentary language. Mr Walpole, pray continue. Walpole began quietly, almost confidentially:
"Mr Speaker, I beg your indulgence for you see I am trying to recall the name of this honourable member. Perhaps other members may assist me in this respect for this particular honourable member has a certain style of speech. Now what would that be? What is the name of the honourable member who sits on the opposite benches who assured me, who assured other honourable members of his good intentions? Indeed may I venture to suggest that before the late election there were those who believed his assurances, and, as a result are no longer members of this House."
Laughter had drowned out Walpole's words and he heard encouraging calls from his side whereas members opposite were squirming in their seats. He waited for silence, and then dropped his bombshell:
"Who assured me of other people's intentions? Now what were his words exactly? Let me see. Ah, I do recall, it's a Tory game intended at bottom." Walpole again paused to allow laughter to subside and could not help smiling himself before proceeding: "I thought so too and shared his joke as we shared views for this honourable member sat on this side of the House. Like another gentleman in Versailles I have mentioned, this honourable member is capable of somersaults. And I would ask the House, Mr Speaker, if peace is any safer in the hands of this turncoat?"
Uproar broke out from the opposite benches and cries of, 'disgraceful', 'withdraw', but finally a Tory arose waving his order paper shouting against the hubbub, 'point of order, Mr Speaker', who finally heard it and called:
"Your point of order, Sir Charles."
Sir Charles Hedges spoke to him directly: "Is the word 'turncoat' a fit expression for one honourable member to call another?"
The Speaker addressed Walpole gravely: "Mr Walpole, will you withdraw the word 'turncoat' or substitute another?"
Walpole got up and looked at Robert Harley and said: "I withdraw the word, Mr Speaker, as I can find no suitable alternative to describe the status of the honourable member." He stopped as the Speaker held up his hand and sat down whereupon the Speaker addressed the chamber:
"I beg the indulgence of the House. I am suspending the sitting for an hour. Will the honourable member for Chippenham wait upon me in my chamber. Thank you!"
With that he gathered up his papers, left his chair and departed. Silence was followed by a flurry of activity as members left their seats. Walpole did likewise but was stopped by a member who whispered:
"If you care to repeat the charge outside the House, sir, count upon any of us to act as your second, and we should be honoured so to do."
Walpole said nothing. He had much to think about, but his first call must be upon the Speaker, and he proceeded to his office.
Chapter 15
Being a former chapel, St Stephen's, converted after the reformation as a meeting place and later, as a debating chamber, the various needs of the House of Commons were perforce accommodated in various ways. The ante-chapel for instance also called a foyer was adapted for use as a lobby where Members of Parliament registered their votes as Ayes whereas those remaining in the chamber were counted as Noes or Abstentions. Storage became an increasing requirement for keeping records of Bills and Acts of Parliament and for verbatim accounts of parliamentary debates so the crypt became their repository. Yet after all the various former and unused religious sections had been exhausted, a petition was laid before the monarch of the day for permission to erect purpose-built structures, ie private rooms, to which members could return after their meetings in the chamber for the purpose of dealing with the affairs of their constituent voters, the people who had elected them to parliament to serve their needs, and hence that of the government; the government elected by the People for the People.
In one such private room on January 20th of 1711, fellow MPs Robert Harley and Henry St. John met in private conference. Bad news had reached the government from Spain where the English Expeditionary Force was becoming increasingly dispirited through poor leadership, inadequate supplies and appalling accommodation, very often in tents on sites located on flood plains during the rainy season. It did not help the situation that in le Marechal Berwick the Franco-Spanish alliance had found a commander to rival Marlborough, in fact le marechal was the duke's nephew through his sister's marriage to a Stuart. Harley believed something might be rescued from the debacle and he spoke to St John:
"We need to act as one, Henry, especially now that Spain appears irretrievably lost to the allies." His companion tried to be sanguine: "The Frenchies have lost every engagement in their own country so it is little wonder they are hailing their latest victory there as a major triumph, but I ask you Robert, whoever has heard of Brihuega and even when they read about it in the Examiner, it demands all of Jonathon Swift's creative genius to turn what was a skirmish into a battle."
"You have a p-point Henry," affirmed Harley. "If the duke is successful at B-bouchain, it will be a mighty b-blow to Louis XIV as it seems the allied army will be poised to march on Paris in the Spring."
If he enters Paris," said St. John, "he will be able to dictate terms whatever the outcome in Spain."
"It hardly helps our cause Henry. Do we want p-peace - or not? If he should reach P-paris, what do you think are your chances of high office?"
St John was silent, morose even and said gloomily: "I'm afraid you're right, Robert."
Harley slapped his companion on the knee, saying gleefully: "My how easy it is for me, Henry to turn you to gloom. Let's look on the b-bright side. If, my p-plan goes through, I p-promise you the earldom of B-bolingbroke. What say you to that" Your House will hold you up to p-posterity as one of their great ancestors."
St John's smile went from ear to ear a
nd grasped Harley firmly and almost cried triumphantly: "Dear Master, you know too well my tender spot."
"To b-business then," said Harley, "we can now muster a majority of Tories to vote against the next supply b-bill which will scupper the duke's campaign from June, at least."
"If I remember aright," said St John, "last years campaigning started in April so the duke still has two months before supplies dry up."
Harley smiled triumphantly: "I know the duke. He will not embark on a major campaign unless he can p-plan six months ahead."
St John looked at the urbane Harley. He exuded confidence of one who had never been on campaign. The sedan-soldier who believed military campaigns were somehow planned and plotted on paper and then executed according to the model. He said: "On paper, Robert, on paper. I would not depend too much on paper predictions. He has an excellent quarter-master general. Who knows what he has in his locker!"
Harley examined his friend with amusement and said: "I know the man. We've met; Colonel Cadogan, I think, though he is likely a b-brigadier b-by now." St John eyed his friend with new respect as Harley continued: "I well remember the duke telling me a story after Flanders when the Dutch refused to agree to the duke's demand for a b-battle."
St John said: "It must have been galling for the duke to observe the thousands of French soldiers escaping from his Flanders trap."
"That's where Cadogan comes in. He told the duke there and then to look on the p-positive side. The tons of p-provisions not needed to feed those French p-prisoners."
"That was nearly a decade ago," said St. John, "now on the battlements of Bouchain, a dicky bird tells me that the duke can see the spires of Paris, on a clear day."
Harley was sceptical: "I b-believe the duke sees what he want to see. My dicky b-bird tells me Louis can see the Tower of London through his telescope. Honestly Henry you listen to too much idle chatter in the Kit-Cat. Perhaps you are supping too much coffee. I saw a leaflet circa 1674 regarding women’s petition against coffee."
St John smiled: "I must ask my Belle whether she has noticed any difference in my performance."
Harley gave a grunt of distaste: "As long as you keep those affairs from the ears of her majesty."
St John could not forbear making a tasteless joke: "I assure you one thing Robert, that I shall keep them from her eyes."
Harley appeared not to have noticed. Impatiently he changed the subject: "How do you get on with Jersey, Henry?"
'Well enough to do our business with him." answered St John, "He is still our man then?"
Harley looked grim all of a sudden and said with obvious distaste: "An odious creature. Her majesty dislikes him."
"It is not hard to look for a reason why she finds him hateful knowing her sensitivity towards the flesh, shall we say, having been awarded an earldom on being the brother of the Villiers sisters."
Harley laughed: "I should judge he merited an earldom. Imagine the slings and arrows aimed at him simply for b-being the b-brother of two courtesans."
St John said prosaically: "What a burden for the poor chap. Perhaps that is why he became a Catholic, and hence a Jacobite."
"There you have it Henry." said Harley, "Her majesty cannot abide Jacobites so we must b-be careful."
"What sorcery is the master contemplating?" asked St John intrigued. In response Harley moved his chair closer to his friend's and lowered his voice: "The message to Louis from the Abbe Gaultier is that it is a Stuart restoration we p-plan at b-bottom."
His colleague got excited at Harley's conspiratorial behaviour and said:
"What intrigues me, Robert, is how you plan to smuggle the Abbe out of England and into France. How did you get to know him?"
Harley almost purred with contentment. There was nothing he liked better than parading his cleverness, especially to an admirer. He went on to explain: "Marlborough captured him along with le marechal Villars at B-blenheim. The Abbe was his p-personal chaplain and was imprisoned with him. He knows the French coast like the b-back of his hand."
"What about our side of the Channel?" Insisted St.John, "How do you allow him to travel and embark without being arrested as a French spy?"
"One of the prerogatives of Minister for War," explained Harley, "is to approve the appointments of commanders of castles."
His friend smiled: "You old devil."
Harley concurred asking rhetorically: "What is the p-point of b-being in government, if you cannot call the shots?"
St. John ruminated then suggested: "When I was Minister for War, I believe Walmer Castle came within my purview."
Harley chuckled: "To cut a long story short, we have Mrs Masham's close relatives in on the act."
"Let me guess," said St John, "Colonel Masham for Walmer and Hill will command a troop of Light Dragoons to escort the Abbe from London."
"Except b-both will be b-brigadiers ere long, or my name is not what I was christened." said Harley.
"One thing bothers me Robert." The man addressed adopted a resigned air as he suspected what was coming but patiently listened, His friend drew a deep breath: "I was a serving officer in the British army in the field and I know a very serious view was taken on spying for the enemy. Yet here we are ministers of her majesty's government about to pursue clandestine negotiations with enemy agents. My officer's rank would not have protected me Robert. It would have been the firing squad. If this goes wrong you and I might be indicted as traitors."
St John stopped and his face was suffused with deep red as he realised that Harley had already been accused of that very thing. His listener laid a hand on his friend's knee and said comfortingly:
"Take no account of me, Henry. I know I'm acting for the b-benefit of my country. One day the truth will out, b-but if you want out, you can get up and leave now." St John put his arm around Harley and could not prevent a sob escaping as he blurted out:
"On no account Robert am I quitting. I want to see this thing through. As you say, one day the truth will out. Posterity will be our judge."
Harley patted his friend's shoulder: "It is all right Henry. I knew you meant nothing. Yet I confess to feeling a traitor or turncoat, p-put like that. It falls to some Henry to incur dishonour for the sake of the country's good. This is such a moment."
St John said: "We must keep this mind too in dealing with the likes of the earl of Jersey."
Harley sighed saying: "We have to keep him convinced we aim for a Stuart restoration."
"Is there nobody else?" asked St John and in response Harley bent over to St John: "He has the ear of Louis himself who told him of his rage when Charles died owing him three million gold louis."
"Phew!" exploded St John, "What services did he expect and did not get?"
"Can't you guess, Henry! Only the throne of England itself; it is said that French troops had landed at Portsmouth and a message sent to the King in London."
"What happened?" asked an incredulous St John.
"Charlie had kicked the b-b-bucket, that's what happened. Lucky for the likes of us; we English have had some lucky escapes."
"That might make up for that lucky arrow shot which cost Harold an eye and his life and brought the anglo-saxons a hundred years of slavery. We deserve some luck after that."
"How will Jersey pull it off?" asked St John.
"At b-bottom Henry the earl believes with all his b-being in our plan to restore the Stuarts and as such he is trusted by Louis. He and the Abbe speak the same language in church matters, language, love of France. He may not b-be an Englishman's, or indeed her majesty's favourite man, but he will serve our purpose well."
St John said: "Are you sure Jersey is not playing a double game. What I mean is he will be putting forward our terms which presume an independent England including all the gains we have made in this war such as Gibraltar, Minorca, the Newfoundland."
"That is the b-beauty of it, Henry" opined Harley, "Here is a Stuart arguing for a Protestant agenda and Louis will grant it b-because, and here is the clever b
it." Harley paused and smiled with huge satisfaction, "the clever b-bit is that Louis will grant all these concessions in the expectation they will all b-be revoked, one day - but they will not b-be. England will win the trading concessions with Louis' own connivance."
St John said nothing. He was overwhelmed by the master's scheme. Harley though was not resting on his laurels. He said:
"I want you Henry to discover the tides at Deal in Kent. I don't want Gaultier hanging around in the town waiting for the tide to turn." St John acquiesced with a nod. The thought chasing through his mind was that Harley was as avid for the detail as he was conversant with the bigger picture. All he had to do was to hang on to this man's coat-tails.
"We had better synchronise our fob-clocks." suggested St John and Harley gave his colleague an appreciative look and words of praise: "You're learning Henry. It is such attention to detail that will b-bring you the earldom of B-bolingbroke."
Chapter 16
It was fortunate for Anne that Kensington Palace had been formerly a country house originally built in 1605 for Sir George Coppin, but, which for some reason lay empty after his death for some considerable time until Queen Mary, joint monarch and consort to William III, anxious to get away from the unhealthy atmosphere of Whitehall, purchased the property and set about turning it into a royal residence, in short, a palace. Sadly by her death in 1694 the alterations she had envisaged were still not complete though her sister Anne, now queen, would take full advantage of her sister's vision.
One of her sister's creations was the Queen's Gallery, a room thirty six metres in length fitted on the outside with the new Vauxhall Plate Glass panels by Gerrit Jensen and Anne never omitted heaping mental praise on her sister as she entered the palace via the Queen's Portico then walking through the aforementioned gallery to her own favourite chamber, the Queen's Drawing Room, all upon the ground floor. In this Anne was fortunate as she could never have managed the stairs of newly constructed palaces built according to the design of the latest in-architect, Inigo Jones, (long dead but whose influence still reigned) who invariably placed all state-rooms of national buildings on the first floor.
