I was anxious about him for the weather was not good, but he would not delay his departure. It was necessary for him to be in a country where people behaved reasonably, where they understood him and he them.
Poor William! I wondered, as I had before, whether he would have been happier if he had never realized his dream and inherited the crown.
It was a relief to hear that he had arrived safely and emerged with nothing more than a cold. The Dutch had welcomed him warmly—in that undemonstrative way, I supposed, which was so much to his taste.
Before me lay the difficult task of “persuading” George that the sea was not for him.
I made several attempts with Anne but that stubborn look came into her face when I mentioned what George proposed to do and questioned the wisdom of it.
“So,” she cried, “he is to be given no post! He is expected to spend his days sleeping, drinking and sitting around. The King treats him like an usher … of no importance at all.”
I could make no headway with Anne. The only way would be, as William had suggested, to get Sarah to try to persuade Anne.
With some misgivings I sought out Sarah.
I said: “Lady Marlborough, I know you have great influence with my sister, and it is for this reason that I wish to talk to you.”
“The Princess honors me with a rather special friendship, I believe, Your Majesty,” she replied complacently.
“Well, I know that she always listens with attention to what you have to say. This is rather a delicate matter. Prince George has conceived an idea that he should take command of the fleet.”
“I believe that to be in his mind, Your Majesty.”
“It is really not possible, and I want you to persuade the Princess that it would not be good for him.”
“Oh?” said Sarah, her eyes widening in innocence.
I tried flattery, to which I suspected Sarah was not entirely immune.
“If anyone can make the Princess see the wisdom of this, it is you. And when the Princess realizes it, she can persuade the Prince. That is all I ask of you, Lady Marlborough.”
She hesitated for a moment and I saw speculation come into her eyes.
“Madame, Your Majesty, I ask your forgiveness for my forwardness, but I am in the employ of the Princess Anne and therefore owe my allegiance to her, and I hold it as a matter of honor. I will tell her that it is your opinion that it would be unwise of the Prince to join the fleet and you have asked me to persuade her to this. I would tell her that this is your command, for I should be obliged to tell her whence it came. I trust Your Majesty understands my meaning.”
“I understand you well, Lady Marlborough,” I said rising. She immediately stood, as she could not remain seated when I was not. “I pray you, say nothing of this matter to the Princess, for I see little good could come of it.”
With that I left the insolent woman. I could see that more harm than good had been done. Now it would be necessary to give an outright refusal to Prince George. It would have been better to have refused him in the first place.
ONE OF MY MOST UNPLEASANT DUTIES at that time was signing the death warrant. I hated the thought that someone had died because I had penned my name to a paper and ordered it to be done.
I must obey the law, of course, and there were the three prisoners who had been caught in an act of treason. It was harder because that act of treason was one of loyalty toward my father. Aston, with Lord Preston and Major Elliot, had been caught with treasonable documents in their possession. So there was no help for it. They would have to die.
This weighed heavily on my mind. I wished that William had been there. He would have signed those documents without a qualm. He would be contemptuous of me for my soft feelings.
I had read a great deal about my predecessor, Queen Elizabeth, for whom I had a great admiration. She had been a strong woman and had ruled despotically in her own right. She had talked of her proud stomach, and she would never have allowed a man to usurp the smallest part of her power.
And there was I—Queen of this Realm—beside a husband to whom I gave the right to come before me. Elizabeth would have despised me, and perhaps she would have been right.
I did remember that she had suffered pangs of conscience when she had signed the death warrant of Mary, Queen of Scots. These men were not close to me. I did not know them, but I deplored what I had to do, and would have given a great deal to have had that burden taken from me.
The people understood my feelings, I believed. They may have thought me weak, but they liked me as they never could like William.
While I was suffering from these pangs of conscience, I had an experience which made me even more sad. It happened in Kensington Palace, which was now beginning to look very fine. In the great hall, when William and I had bought the place, there hung a big picture of my father looking splendid in all his regalia. It was still there.
One day when I came down the stairs I saw a young girl sitting on the lower step, staring fixedly at my father’s portrait.
I said: “What are you doing here, child? And why do you look so intently at that picture?”
She stood up and curtsied.
“Your Majesty,” she said. “That is your father.” She fixed melancholy eyes on me and went on: “My father is in the Tower. He is Lord Preston. They are going to kill him. It is sad that my father is going to be put to death for loving your father too much.”
I was stunned. The child curtsied again and ran off. I wanted to call after her, to bring her back, to say her father should not be killed. Instead, I went to my apartments and prayed, as I always did in moments of intense unhappiness; but I found little comfort.
I wished, as I had so many times, that I was that child’s age and happy in the love of my father.
When I thought about the matter afterward, I guessed that someone had primed that child to be at that spot where I would pass and told her to say what she did. They knew I was not hard like William. How I wished I could give those men their freedom, but I could not remake the laws.
I was relieved when Lord Preston revealed the names of his fellow conspirators—which was not a noble thing to do, but it saved his life and eased my conscience to a certain extent.
THERE WAS BAD NEWS FROM HOLLAND. The French seemed to be triumphant everywhere. At home the people were growing more and more dissatisfied. They wanted to hear of victory, not defeat; and when the news was not good they immediately asked themselves why they had exchanged one unsatisfactory ruler for another who was equally so.
The good old days under Charles were remembered. How had he managed it? I often wondered. I thought of the manner in which he had averted trouble. He was not always sincere, but he always pleased the people, and the art of governing was to do that.
I was rather proud of the manner in which I handled the sailors’ wives of Wapping.
Funds had been low for some time. The wars were responsible for that. Payments which should have been made had been temporarily suspended, and because of this the sailors’ wives had decided to bring a petition to Parliament to air their grievances.
This state of affairs must not be allowed to go on, I decided. These debts must be settled even if it were from the Privy Purse. The poor must not be made to suffer. It was important that those who had only a little money should be the first to receive it.
There was consternation when, in the midst of a Cabinet meeting, the angry wives of Wapping arrived.
This was the kind of situation which could quickly result in a riot; and when one started others could spring up. The matter had to be settled at once.
I said: “I shall speak to them.”
“Your Majesty …” several of the ministers cried in horror.
But I was determined.
“Down there is a mob of angry women,” I said. “Go down and tell them to select four who will speak for them and bring them to me.”
They tried to dissuade me. There was I, wearing the state robes which I wore
for Cabinet meetings, and I was preparing to see those women, dressed so!
I waved aside their protests and insisted that the women be sent to me.
They came in a truculent mood, angrily determined to demand their rights. I must say they looked taken aback at the sight of me in my splendid robes, and, being somewhat rotund, I must have made quite a regal sight. I could not believe that they would be pacified by the contrast they made in their poor patched garments.
But I have a very soft and gentle voice, I am told, and when I spoke and told them how sorry I was that their husbands had not been paid and they had been right to come to me, I saw the expression on their faces change.
“Tell me all about it,” I went on.
They were taken aback. They had not expected soft words.
One of the women, bolder than the rest, stepped forward. She told me of the poverty they had endured, how hard it was to make ends meet, and when there was no pay coming for good service, they could endure no more. So they had come to demand it.
I agreed that what had happened must immediately be put right. Everything due to them must be paid. I would see that this was done.
They hesitated. They had been promised payment for work done in the first place. They wanted action, not promises that might not be kept.
“I want you to believe me,” I said. “I shall make sure that the money is paid to you without delay.”
I realized suddenly that I had won the confidence of these women. They did believe me. I was moved and gratified when the leader went down on her knees and said: “I believe you. You are a good woman.”
Then the others knelt with her.
“God bless Your Majesty,” they said.
I went back to the Cabinet meeting. They all looked shocked. They had been ready to hurry to my aid should I have been attacked and were astonished when I said calmly: “The amount owing to the sailors’ wives must be paid immediately. I have promised this and my promise must be honored.”
My orders were promptly carried out and I believe the action I had taken averted danger.
My popularity increased after that. Alas, it did not help William.
The people of London liked to express themselves in verse; and when someone wrote a couplet—usually anonymous and unflattering—it was often set to a tune and sung in the streets.
The people saw William as the ruler and I, though the true heiress, was the retiring woman who had hitherto been kept in the background, occupied with her needle. This was not so now. I had been brought forward in William’s absence and I had won the hearts of the sailors’ wives.
The couplet they were singing now was:
Alas, we erred in choice of our commanders
He should have knotted, she gone to Flanders.
I was glad William was not in England to hear that and hoped that they would be singing a different verse when he returned.
SINCE WILLIAM’S REFUSAL to allow Prince George to go to sea had not been arranged discreetly, he had to be told officially by Lord Nottingham that the King would not sanction it.
I could imagine Anne’s fury, and George … well, he would have been mildly disappointed. I could imagine his raising his eyes and murmuring, “Est-il possible?” William was the one they blamed, and Sarah, of course, would do all in her power to add to the resentment.
Anne and Sarah would discuss the matter. Caliban was the loathe-some creature who had refused to recognize the good services of Marlborough, and now behaved as though George was a nobody—and he was the father of the male heir to the throne.
William returned to England. The continental war had been his chief concern now that James had been driven back to France. The people of England had been taxed to pay for the war and there were no successes to report.
It was clear that they were not pleased with their King. I guessed there was a certain amount of gratification in the Cockpit because of this.
My sadness at the discord between my sister and myself was compensated a little by my young nephew. I liked to visit him and have him brought to Kensington. He enjoyed those visits. He liked to watch the soldiers in the park.
He would point to them in glee and shout, “Soldiers, Queen, look!”
I gave him toy soldiers, which pleased him, but of course they were not real soldiers who marched and saluted.
There would never be harmony between Anne and me while Sarah dominated that household. She had two enemies, however, and because of circumstances it was not easy for her to dislodge them.
The first was, of course, Mrs. Pack. There was that special bond which is often there between a nurse and the child she has suckled, and this was certainly the case with William and Mrs. Pack; and because of his devotion to her, Mrs. Pack must remain.
The other, and perhaps more to be feared, was Lady Fitzharding, who was one of the Villiers sisters. The closeness of that family was legendary; the advantages acquired by one were shared by all. They stood together, as they always had.
I had no doubt that Lady Fitzharding kept her sister well informed of what occurred at the Cockpit, and of course Elizabeth would pass this information on to William.
Lady Fitzharding’s position as governess to little William could not be more convenient for Elizabeth and my husband.
She would have to tread very warily, no doubt, for Sarah was too shrewd not to realize the inevitability of the outcome. It occurred to me that Sarah would be desperately seeking an excuse to be rid of her, but she could not expect an easy victory against the Villiers family, as she—and Anne—had discovered over the controversy of Richmond Palace.
William did not pass on to me the information he received from Elizabeth by way of Lady Fitzharding, but I had my own source which gave me a good idea of what went on there.
It was obvious that Sarah remained incensed by what she called the lack of appreciation of her husband’s genius, and through Mrs. Pack I heard of the constant railing against “Caliban’s ingratitude” and the treatment of Prince George. According to Mrs. Pack, it was Sarah’s view that Caliban was jealous of Anne and of Marlborough.
This was no news to me. I could have told Mrs. Pack that was exactly what they would say. I had heard something like it from Anne herself.
Mrs. Pack was grateful to me. In my turn I was grateful to her, for I was convinced that she had saved little William’s life. I agreed with her methods. Although William was a delicate child, she never coddled him. She would insist on his going out in all weathers, although she always made sure that he was well wrapped up.
I had arranged for her husband to have a job with the Customs Office; and although she was actually in Anne’s service, she believed that her loyalty should be to me. A sensible, down-to-earth woman, she would have little patience with Anne. She found the relationship between Anne and Sarah Churchill quite incomprehensible and, of course, there was the antipathy between herself and Sarah. She knew that Sarah would have done everything in her power to have her removed, and that Anne would have been easily persuaded but for little William.
She came to see me at Kensington Palace because she had news which she thought was important and I should know.
When I was alone with her, she said: “The Princess Anne and the Churchills are writing to King James.”
“The Churchills! That can’t be true!!”
“I have heard them talking. The Earl of Marlborough is concerned in this. I heard Lady Marlborough telling the Princess what she should say to him. The Princess is writing to tell him that she is filled with remorse. She made a bitter mistake and craves his forgiveness. They want him to come back.”
“My sister … I understand her remorse. I know how she feels. But Marlborough …”
“They have been angry, Your Majesty. They say Lord Marlborough is not appreciated, that the Dutch get all the best posts. They do not want to be ruled by Dutchmen. They say they want to bring King James back.”
I was astounded. I could not believe this. She had not heard correctly
. How could she know this merely by listening at doors? If it were so, Lady Fitzharding would have discovered it. Then William would know.
“It seems,” said Mrs. Pack, “that their, plan is to bring back King James, although they would not let him reign. They would set the Princess Anne on the throne—and then, as you can guess, the Marlboroughs would rule through her.”
This amazed me, but I could see the reasoning behind it. It would be typical of the Marlboroughs.
But when Mrs. Pack had gone, I wondered again if it were plausible. Had she heard aright? I could not be sure.
But the Marlboroughs were disgruntled, and Anne was in leading strings. Marlborough might have decided that there was no hope for him under William. Here was one of the most ambitious men alive. He was not one to be set aside by anyone, even a monarch he had helped to the throne. My father had trusted him and it was in a large measure due to Marlborough that he had fallen, for when Marlborough had defected, he had taken a large part of the army with him. Surely he would never trust Marlborough again?
No, they would not want my father back. But Anne, that was a different matter. Sarah had Anne in thrall. Yes, it was reasonable. They would rule England through Anne because there was no hope of doing so through James.
Before I could speak to William of Mrs. Pack’s discovery, he came to me. He looked very grave.
He said: “I want that Churchill woman out of the Cockpit.”
“You have heard?” I asked.
He nodded. “And I want her out of the Princess Anne’s service without delay.”
“You have heard then of Marlborough’s plans?”
He looked startled, and I could not help saying that I was sure Lady Fitzharding would have passed on the news to her sister.
William looked faintly embarrassed. It was rarely that I spoke up so frankly. The approval of the people and their expression of it had made me bold.
I went on quickly: “The nurse, Mrs. Pack, does not like Lady Marlborough. She has told me what she believes to have overheard.”
Jean Plaidy - [Queens of England 10] Page 27
