* * *
William, returning as a conqueror, had begun to think that he was firm enough on the throne not to have to bother to placate the Princess Anne. He had promised her St. James’s Palace but had not yet given it to her. Why should he give the foolish woman anything, particularly as Sarah Churchill was at her elbow, pressing her to demand this and that.
But when he went to visit Campden House he could not help being charmed by young Gloucester, who had his army drawn up to form a guard of honor for him. The boy was bright and amusing, a born soldier, for he would not have had this little army otherwise.
He walked beside William inspecting the “troops” and asking his advice about them. William gave it seriously, enjoying the occasion, feeling more at ease with the boy than he did with his mother, or any of his English ministers.
“It will not be long,” Gloucester assured William, “before my men are serving you in Flanders. I shall be with them to command them, of course, and willingly I offer you my services.”
“I am sure you and your men will serve me and their country well.”
Gloucester saluted with the utmost seriousness and the King gravely acknowledged this.
“What horses have you?” asked William.
“I have one live and two dead,” answered Gloucester.
“Dead horses? Soldiers do not keep dead horses.”
“What do they do with them then?”
“They bury the dead horses.”
“Mine shall be buried at once.”
William watched with amusement while the boy gave orders that his two wooden horses be buried.
“I shall need replacements,” he said.
“What of the one live one?”
“I ride on him in the park. He is not very big, but later I shall have hundreds of big ones.”
“I see,” said the King.
And all those who watched them marveled at the boy’s power to charm even William. Anne was delighted. This was a clear indication that William happily accepted the boy as his heir.
* * *
That was a brief interlude in the King’s day. He was feeling wretchedly ill and was forced to face the fact that he was growing more and more feeble.
He had never been a happy man, but since the death of Mary he had become even more morose than before. He had lost her adulation, and the comfort of Elizabeth’s companionship, for having given his promise to Tenison not to continue his liaison with her, he could not do so … in England. There was little left to him but his Dutch friends. Keppel was his first favorite, a handsome charming gay young man, who had not the worth of Bentinck, but somehow he craved for his company. He did not want Bentinck’s frank advice; he was impatient with his friendship and Bentinck knew this and kept away. He had even left Court—a matter which often gave William deep misgivings. Mary, Elizabeth, and Bentinck—all lost to him—and in their place young Keppel.
There were times when he wanted Bentinck back—yet such was his pride that he would not command or request. Bentinck must come back on his own desire—and Bentinck stayed away.
William had improved the Banqueting House which stood close to the Palace of Hampton Court on the banks of the river and there, with his Dutch friends, he spent most of his evenings. He was drinking heavily—mostly Holland’s gin—and although he never showed signs of intoxication, after a night’s drinking he would awake next morning in such a mood of irritability that he was approached only by those servants who found it impossible to keep away. Then at the slightest misdemeanor William would lift the cane, which he kept for the purpose, and slash it across the offender’s shoulders.
The English who preferred to see a man merry in his drink, disliked Dutch William more than ever and jocularly referred to those poor servants who suffered through their master’s irrascibility as “the Knights of the Cane.”
Moods of melancholy beset the King; he shut himself into his cabinet and brooded on the wretched turn his life had taken. He mourned for Mary; he had not believed it would be possible to miss anyone as he missed her; he wanted Elizabeth; and he wanted Bentinck.
To Bentinck he had given the vested rights of the Prince of Wales—a move which he soon began to see was a stupid one. He had meant to imply by it that he cared nothing for Anne and believed he could hold the throne without any help from her; also that he would do what he wished with affairs under his control. The people disapproved of this act; and it did not bring Bentinck back to him. Only his morbid and melancholy mood could have made him do such a foolish thing.
He sent for Lord George Hamilton, a soldier who had done good service at the Battle of the Boyne and who had been wounded at Namur.
“I wish to reward you for your services,” said William. “I trust you are recovering from your wounds.”
“Your Majesty, I trust soon to be back in your army.”
“Let me see,” said William. “You were made Brigadier General after Namur were you not?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“And you are unmarried. You should have a wife.”
“Sir I …”
William said: “I am going to honor you. I will give you an earldom. What do you say to that of Orkney?”
Hamilton was stammering his thanks, wondering whether Holland’s gin was having a new effect on the King; but William silenced him.
“Your cousin, the daughter of Sir Edward Villiers, is a very marriageable young woman. I wish to see a union between you two.”
Hamilton was astounded. So he was being offered the King’s mistress! This could mean one of two things: Either he and an earldom were being offered to Elizabeth as a reward for past services or he was being given the role of complacent husband.
Time only would show which, for William was not a man to make himself clear on such a delicate matter.
An earldom! Promotion in the army, doubtless! And it was not as though he had marriage plans elsewhere. His cousin Elizabeth? She intrigued him. Not a beauty, but she must be fascinating to have held a strange cold man like the King all these years. She was a clever woman; and they would be partners. It was a good bargain he was being offered.
“A union with the lady would be very agreeable to me,” he murmured.
William nodded dismissal. That was one matter settled. That would quieten gossip; and when he was in Holland Elizabeth should come to him and it would be almost as it had been in the old days.
* * *
It became clear to William that it was a mistake to think that he could afford to flout Anne. No matter how many victories he might win abroad, to the English he was still a foreigner, and they resented a foreign King. Yet when Anne was carried out in her chair they cheered her; they looked upon her as the heiress to the throne and on Gloucester as her successor. He could not hope for a peaceful existence while he was outwardly not on good terms with her.
He renewed his promise of St. James’s Palace and this time Anne was able to move in. Then he made a gesture which gave Anne more pleasure than anything else could have done.
Lord Strafford, Knight of the Garter, died; and William wrote to Anne to say that it would give him the greatest pleasure to bestow the vacant ribbon on his nephew.
Anne went at once to her son’s apartment where he was having breakfast. In spite of her excitement she was shocked to see that Lewis was sitting beside him spooning the food into his mouth.
“That,” she said, “is no way for a Prince to eat. Lewis, stop it at once.”
“Your Highness it is the only way in which we can induce him to eat.”
Anne looked at her son with the familiar mingling of pride and terror. She had lost the last child as she had all the others, and Gloucester was her great hope. And he did not like food when his father and mother had such a delight in it! Was it a sign of delicate health?
“My boy,” she said, “do you not like the food which is prepared for you?”
He considered this and said: “I like crumbs on the table but I do not care much
for food on plates.” He then wet his finger and picked up some of the crumbs about the table.
“You eat like a chicken,” she said.
“Oh, Mama, I am a chick of the game.”
His bright eyes, his quick smile were enchanting. Oh God, she prayed, preserve my darling. Keep him well. Take anything from me but leave me my precious boy.
“I have good news for you. You are to have the Garter.”
His eyes shone with pleasure. “The Garter. But I have long wanted it and do you know, Mama, Harry Scull dreamed he saw me wearing it. Pray, Lewis, bring Harry to me without delay. I must tell Harry.”
* * *
Back to Campden House came Gloucester, eyes brilliant with triumph, wearing the blue ribbon. He paraded before his parents telling them about the ceremony. “There were eleven knights with the King,” he said. “William knighted me with the sword of state and then put the ribbon on me with his own hands, and that, Papa—are you listening Mama?”
“To every word, my dearest.”
“Well that is most unusual, for one of the knights usually does it, but William wanted to do it for me. It was a special occasion. I am a favorite of his.”
“Well, you are an heir to the throne.”
“Yes, but it is a most unusual thing to be a favorite of the King’s, Mama.”
Anne exchanged glances with her husband. How could anyone help but make him a favorite? she was asking.
“Now may I go to my men. They are all anxious to see me in the Garter. I shall always wear it … until the day I die.”
“We will not speak of that,” said Anne sharply; and George laid a hand on her shoulder reassuringly.
They were silent, listening to Gloucester’s voice shouting orders to his soldiers.
It had been wonderful to see the boy wearing the ribbon, but the mention of his death could plunge them both into deepest melancholy.
* * *
There was a visitor for the Princess Anne. This was John Sheffield, Earl of Mulgrave. Anne could never see him without remembering that love affair of her youth when she and John Sheffield had planned to marry. She still remembered the poems he had written to her. He had been sent away on her account and she had been given her dear George who was the best of husbands; but that did not mean she had not still a tender spot for Sheffield.
He was handsome; he was an excellent poet; and she believed he was at heart a Jacobite, for he had remained loyal to James longer than most men.
“My lord,” she said, “it does me good to see you.” He kissed her hand with a lingering tenderness. He was married and so was she, but memories lingered.
“I came to congratulate you on the Duke’s honor.”
“It was good of you.”
“I thought you would like to hear an account from an eye witness. I never saw the like. One would have thought he was a mature man. Such dignity! Such grace!”
“He is a most unusual boy.”
“Which is only to be expected.”
Their eyes met. He was thinking: He might have been ours. And if he had, she wondered, would he have been stronger? She compared John with George. Poor George, who was so fat and ineffectual; and John, tall, handsome, a man who would leave his mark on the world with his literary achievements and his parliamentary career.
“My lord,” she said, “I would that you would watch over the Duke. Sometimes I feel that his education is not in the best hands. His mind is so alert; he picks up such odd pieces of information. And we find it so difficult to make him eat nourishing food. His servants feed him … to entice him. It causes me anxiety.”
“If Your Highness would wish me to keep an eye on the boy …”
“It is what I do wish. I can trust you as I can few people. Will you do this?”
“With all my heart.”
She sat smiling to herself after he had gone. It was pleasant to sit dreamily contemplating what might have been. She could do this without heartbreak. She had her dear husband, her beloved boy, her hopes of inheriting the throne; but romance was sweet.
Sarah came in and found her thus.
“Mulgrave was here, so I learn.”
“Why yes.”
“And what did he want?”
“He came to tell me how my boy conducted himself at the ceremony. Why, Mrs. Freeman, he said that the child behaved like a mature man. I do not think there is another boy in the world to compare with him and that is the truth.”
“My young John must come to be his companion. I am sure they would be good for each other.”
“It shall be so. John Sheffield is a charming man, I think.”
Sarah grunted. “Not much guts I’d say. Remember how he fled at the first sign of trouble?”
“He did not fly. He was sent away to Tangier by my uncle.”
“Some men would have refused to go.”
“Refused to go? Refused the King’s command?”
“Some would have found a way.”
Sarah did not notice the slightly sullen expression about Anne’s mouth, nor the hint of firmness in her voice as she said: “He is going to superintend the Duke’s education.”
“What?” cried Sarah.
Anne had turned away, murmuring: “Oh, not in an official capacity, of course, but I confess I shall be glad to have such an excellent man at hand.”
What of Marlborough? thought Sarah, with difficulty suppressing her anger. If the Duke was to have a Governor naturally it should be Lord Marlborough. But at least Sheffield had not been offered the post officially.
Marlborough should have it, decided Sarah. And I shall see that he gets it.
* * *
The Princess Anne was preparing to leave for Windsor Castle. William had been unusually gracious. Not being content with seeing her installed in St. James’s Palace, he offered her Windsor Castle in which to spend the summer with her husband and their son.
Having seen Anne’s interest in John Sheffield, Sarah had decided that if she could do nothing for her husband it was time she brought her son forward, and before they left for Windsor she suggested to Anne that the little Duke should have some boys, near his own age and rank, to play with.
“My John is a little older than he is, but I am sure your boy would find him a good companion.”
Anne who was sorry that Sarah had been put out over the favor she had shown to Sheffield, readily agreed; and it was decided that John Churchill together with three other boys, who were all studying at Eton, should be the companion of the Duke at Windsor.
It was inevitable that Anne should remember her dear Frances Bathurst’s boys; there were two of them of suitable age and they with another named Peter Boscawen were invited to Windsor.
Gloucester was delighted at the prospect of going to Windsor, a castle he had never before visited, and expressed the hope that there would be many towers and bastions to be defended. And what were the fortifications like? he wanted to know.
As they drew nearer to the castle he was clearly pleased with the impressive towers and immediately began planning a battle which should be fought between the new companions he was to have, since his army had not accompanied him to Windsor.
He explored the castle looking for suitable spots to defend, and was delighted when his four companions arrived. John Churchill was a charming boy who had been well prepared by his mother to make himself agreeable to the young Duke; Peter Boscawen was a little older than the others and more serious, but the Bathursts were mischievous and ready for some good sport.
Gloucester immediately called a meeting and explained the plans for the campaign. He had, he said, chosen St. George’s Hall for the action; then the music gallery and the stairs which led to it would represent a castle which had to be defended on one side and taken on the other.
This would be a new kind of game for he would not have all his soldiers to command; but he sent at once back to Campden Hill for his weapons which consisted of swords, muskets, and pikes.
He was eagerly explain
ing the plans of battle to his parents as he walked with them in Windsor Park. Anne and George exchanged glances; they were both wondering whether the boys understood that they must not be too rough with the young Duke.
Gloucester went on ahead of them as Anne said, “I must speak to Lewis. He must explain to them when our boy is not present. I wish that he did not so love these rough games.”
“You would not have him girlish, my dear,” George soothed.
“No, I would not. But how I wish that he were as strong and healthy looking as those others. I almost wish I had not asked them here. John Churchill is so big and strong.”
“He is several years older than our boy.”
Anne took her husband’s hand and pressed it. “You are a comfort to me,” she said; and she was suddenly angry because of the cruel lampoons which were written about this good man. The latest one which came to her mind explained that he was not quite dead but had to breathe hard to prevent being buried because no one saw any other sign of life in him. He was not stupid, as they implied, thought Anne angrily. He was just good and kind, a lover of peace.
She caught her breath in dismay, for she saw her precious son rolling over and over on the grass; he had come from the top of a steepish slope and there was earth on his face and the stains of grass on his clothes.
“My dearest …” she cried.
George had gone to the child as quickly as his overplump body would allow him; but before he could reach him Gloucester was on his feet.
He stood, legs apart smiling benignly on his parents.
“I must be able to descend hills quickly if I am to defend castles,” he told them with dignity.
* * *
Lewis took Peter Boscawen aside and said to him: “Now look here, my boy, you must be the enemy, and you must see that no harm comes to His Highness.”
Peter Boscawen nodded.
“Lose the game, rather. His mother’s orders are that he is not to be hurt on any account. Who will you have on your side?”
Royal Sisters: The Story of the Daughters of James II Page 35
