Fortunately for Anne, by taking flight her father had ensured that his son’s claims could be ignored. On 24 December Clarendon had suggested that in accordance with William of Orange’s Declaration, an enquiry should be set up into the birth of the Prince of Wales. At this Lord Wharton exploded, ‘My Lords, I did not expect … to hear anybody mention that child who was called the Prince of Wales. Indeed I did not; and I hope we shall hear no more of him’.142 With that the matter was dropped.
Despite his earlier insistence that his expedition had not been motivated by personal ambition, William was aware that he now had a chance of grasping the crown, allowing him to rule England either jointly with Mary, or even as sole monarch. As yet he had to be circumspect, but he was angered by the very idea that Anne might try to thwart his aspirations. William had always had difficulty accepting the fact that Anne had a better right than him to the throne. In 1679 he had made a revealing slip when he described himself as ‘the third heir to the crown’.143 He forgot he was actually fourth in line, after James, Mary, and Anne. Apart from this, William had long been troubled by the prospect that if his wife became Queen regnant of England, he would be her inferior, while the thought that he would have to make way for Anne in the event of Mary predeceasing him was intolerable.
When Burnet had taken up residence in Holland in 1686, he had privately asked Mary ‘what she intended the Prince should be’ if she became Queen. Mary had assumed that ‘whatever accrued to her would likewise accrue to [William] in right of marriage’ and was horrified to learn this did not apply to the crown. Not wanting to place her husband in ‘a very ridiculous posture for a man’, Mary was relieved when Burnet proposed she should make William King for life, so he could reign in conjunction with her. Burnet declared airily that ‘nobody could suffer by this but she and her sister’, and no account need be taken of Anne, as it was ‘but too probable’ that she would die before Mary. This was curious, since at that point Anne’s health was not causing general concern, but Mary showed no qualms about overriding her sister’s rights, presuming Anne would be as anxious to defer to William as she herself. She informed William she would follow Burnet’s advice as ‘she did not think that the husband was ever to be obedient to the wife’.144
Mary stood by this undertaking. When one leading politician contacted her in Holland after her father’s flight to say that ‘if she desired it … he should be able to carry it for settling her alone on the throne’ she ‘made him a very sharp answer’. In England, however, William was dismayed to discover that he could not necessarily count on Anne being as self-effacing as her sister. When Lord Halifax suggested to William in late December that Lord Churchill ‘might perhaps prevail with the Princess of Denmark to give her consent’ to a settlement that technically infringed her rights, the Prince answered with ‘sharpness’, indicating that he expected nothing less than ‘compliance’ from Anne on such points.145
Despite his strong feelings, William did not raise the matter with the Princess herself. As a result she felt that he was wilfully ignoring her, and this did not make her more amenable. Determined not to be sidelined, she asked Clarendon to keep her informed. In the days preceding the opening of the Convention Parliament there was much manoeuvring, with ‘frequent consults and cabals’ being held by those who were to sit there. Several strands of opinion were now discernible. Some people favoured a regency, while others were for making Mary sole Queen, on the grounds that James had deposed himself. A few traditionalists (probably including Clarendon) clung to the hope that it would be possible to bring James back to England with certain conditions. They may have counted on Anne’s support, but the Princess told Clarendon on 17 January ‘that she was very sorry the King had brought things to the pass they were at; but she was afraid it would not be safe for him ever to return again’. When her uncle demanded ‘if she thought her father could justly be deposed?’ she took refuge in the mulish obtuseness her uncle found so maddening, replying that ‘those were too great points for her to meddle with’.146
Anne was still reluctant to accept that her own claim to the throne should be modified and it is not easy to establish exactly when she realised that she would have to give in about this. Sarah later took credit for Anne’s decision to yield, but she admitted that at first she ‘took a great deal of pains’ to encourage Anne’s pretensions. John Churchill clearly realised earlier than his wife that these were unsustainable.
On 17 January Anne had a discussion with her uncle Clarendon. He told her that proposals were afoot to make William and Mary joint sovereigns, and that William would remain on the throne if Mary died childless, prejudicing Anne’s hereditary right. When he warned his niece that she was reported to have endorsed this arrangement, the Princess said hotly ‘Nobody had ever spoken to her of such a thing … She would never consent to anything that should be to the prejudice of herself or her children’. Clarendon urged her to make her attitude known, and she said that she would think about it.147
Ten days later Anne apparently remained obdurate. Clarendon had informed her that Lord Churchill was busy assuring influential men that she would agree to these arrangements, but the Princess said that she had challenged Churchill about this and he denied it. George was equally defiant, telling Clarendon that he had assured several peers ‘that neither he nor his wife would consent to alter the succession’.148 Probably Churchill had already accepted the necessity for Anne to be more flexible, but since he not only had to convince his wife, but also to avoid alienating the Princess, he had to move cautiously.
The Convention Parliament assembled on 22 January 1689 and six days later began addressing constitutional issues. On 28 January the Commons passed a resolution that by leaving the kingdom James ‘had abdicated the government, and the throne is thereby vacant’. The House of Lords would have difficulty accepting this, but the following day a majority of peers voted for another Commons resolution ‘that it was found by experience inconsistent for a Protestant kingdom to be governed by a popish prince’. This was immensely significant, for it not only disabled James from ruling but meant that if his son was brought up as a Catholic, he could never be king. The promised ‘examination of the little gent’s title’ became unnecessary, for the child was now barred from the throne by ‘a legal incapacity as well as a natural’.149 In December 1689 this provision would be enshrined in statute in an even more restrictive form when it was stated in the Bill of Rights that no one could succeed to the throne who was, or ever had been Catholic, or who was married to one.
In other respects the Lords shied away from radicalism. They only rejected, by the narrow margin of three votes, a proposal that James should retain the title of King but power should be exercised by a regency. Large numbers of peers proved reluctant to pass the Commons’ resolution of 28 January, being particularly worried by the concept that the throne was currently vacant. They passed various amendments to the resolution, but the Commons rejected these with ‘the greatest passion and violence’. It began to seem that matters could not be resolved peaceably, and a total breakdown of order appeared imminent when the London ‘rabble’ laid virtual siege to Parliament, demanding ‘in a tumultuous manner’ that William and Mary be named sovereigns. Just when things were at their most tense William made a move of his own, indicating to a group of influential politicians that he had no intention of becoming his wife’s ‘gentleman usher’. He warned them that ‘he would hold no power dependent upon the will of a woman’ and that, if left unsatisfied, he ‘would go back to Holland and meddle no more in their affairs’.150
As late as 5 February Anne and George were still insisting ‘it was an abominable lie’ that they had agreed that William could be King for life. Meanwhile, Churchill persuaded his wife that ‘the settlement would be carried in Parliament whether the Princess consented to it or not’, and that Anne’s only option was to surrender gracefully.151 Sarah then used her influence with the Princess, who now accepted that those who had been encouraging her resistance
did not have her interests at heart. To Clarendon’s fury, she disavowed her earlier dealings with him, maintaining that she had never encouraged him to act as her champion.
On 6 February another conference between the two Houses of Parliament was interrupted when Lord Churchill and Lord Dorset arrived, bearing a message from Anne. In this she requested that ‘her concern or interest might not hinder the mutual concurrence, for that she was willing to submit to whatever they should conclude for the good of the kingdom and security of the Protestant religion’. This ‘hastened the conclusion’ of a settlement. That afternoon, after an agitated debate, the House of Lords agreed that William and Mary should be declared King and Queen. They also dropped their attempts to amend the Commons’ resolution of 28 January, though only because some previously recalcitrant peers absented themselves ‘for fear of a civil war’.152
Two days later, arrangements were finalised: Anne would become Queen after William and Mary if both died childless. It seems that William had hoped that in the event of Mary predeceasing him he could ‘set [the] Princess aside’ as his successor in favour of any children he produced by a second wife, but he failed to secure this. Instead it was laid down that if William remarried and had children when Mary was dead, his offspring would inherit the throne after Anne and her children. It was also specified that although William and Mary were joint sovereigns, William was to have ‘sole and full exercise of the regal power’.153
On 12 February 1689 Anne and George were at Greenwich as Mary disembarked after travelling over from Holland. It was a joyous reunion, with ‘a great appearance of kindness between the sisters’. Mary noted, ‘I found my sister going on well with her big belly and was really extreme glad to see her’. It was assumed that the two women’s recent secret communications had fostered ‘a greater intimacy yet’ between them, but it would not be long before their relationship became strained.154
The following day William and Mary were proclaimed King and Queen at a formal ceremony in the Banqueting House, Whitehall. The Declaration of Rights, condemning James for his illegal abuses, was read out, and then everyone present went to church. As Anne sat on William’s left, listening to the Bishop of London preach, she had many reasons to feel relieved. Her beloved Church had been protected against Catholic assault. There had been a massive invasion, but civil war had been averted and in England, at least, very little blood had been spilt. Her father had escaped to France, when he could have been imprisoned, killed in battle or even executed. The monarchy remained in being, with its powers scarcely diminished. Although she had agreed to defer her own accession to the throne, she was still in line to succeed, and her pregnancy afforded hopes of motherhood and of carrying on the dynasty.
It would be very odd if Anne had not experienced some private qualms at what had happened. Her sister Mary certainly felt an inner anguish about her father’s misfortunes, and though Anne gave no sign of it, she may have felt similarly troubled. She could of course console herself that her disloyalty as both a subject and a daughter was justified on principled grounds. As one sympathiser put it: ‘Notwithstanding the great duty she owed to the King her father [she] could not think it could come in competition with … the religion and liberty of her country, both which had been most monstrously invaded’.155 On the other hand, the mechanics of treachery are rarely attractive, and despite her references to her ‘sincere mind’ one cannot but be struck by the guile and duplicity that Anne had at her command throughout the crisis. She had condoned rebellion on the specious grounds that James and Mary Beatrice’s son was an imposter. Plainly motivated not just by a disinterested concern for the good of her country, but also by ambition, she had been reluctant to relinquish any part of her own hereditary rights, while trampling on those of her half brother. James had undeniably brought calamity on himself but, even so, the part played by Anne in the revolution was far from wholly creditable.
3
Sure Never Anybody Was Used So
At the outset of William and Mary’s reign, the outlook for Anne appeared good. She assumed that the new King and Queen would feel grateful for the risks she and George had taken on their behalf, and also for the way Anne had agreed, after a bit of prodding, that William could mount the throne. So sure was she of receiving favourable treatment that in January 1689 she spoke airily of having an acquaintance raised to the peerage, expressing confidence that ‘such a thing would not be denied to the Prince and her’.1
Initially all seemed well. George not only remained a member of the Privy Council, but in early April he was naturalised as an English subject and created Earl of Cumberland and Duke of Kendal. Although he continued to be styled Prince George of Denmark, he was now entitled to sit in the House of Lords and ranked as England’s foremost nobleman. Anne’s great friends, the Churchills, also looked set to prosper. In the April coronation honours Lord Churchill was raised in the peerage, taking the title Earl of Marlborough. Court observers tipped him to ‘be a great favourite’, and after being ‘extremely caressed’ by Mary upon the latter’s arrival, Sarah too flattered herself that ‘I was as like to make as great progress in the Queen’s favour as any in the court’.2
On 7 May 1689 England declared war on Louis XIV who, besides trying to extend French power within Europe, was championing the cause of the exiled James II. In March James had landed in Ireland, accompanied by a French army, with the ultimate aim of launching an invasion of England or Scotland. Army officers such as the Earl of Marlborough welcomed the outbreak of war, while Prince George likewise looked forward to proving himself in an important naval or military post.
As the summer advanced, some people became worried about the state of Anne’s pregnancy. By July she had become ‘monstrous swollen’ and, since it had never been made clear that the Princess had not really been pregnant in September 1688, it was naturally thought that the birth was worryingly overdue. Lady Rachel Russell fretted that ‘the Princess … goes very long for one so big’, while John Evelyn suspected that she was not with child at all, and that her abdomen was merely inflated by gas. However, Anne proved him wrong. At five in the morning of 24 July 1689 Anne was delivered of a son in Hampton Court Palace. To prevent allegations of trickery, Queen Mary was present for the entire labour, which lasted about three hours, ‘and the King with most of the persons of quality about the court came into her royal highness’s bedchamber’ for the birth itself.3
The boy was named William after the King, who stood as godfather when the baby was christened on 27 July. It was also announced that the child would be given the title of Duke of Gloucester. Anne took some time to recover from the birth, but Mary looked after her attentively. The Queen recalled that over the next fortnight she was ‘continually in [Anne’s] bedchamber, or that of the child’, and a contemporary praised the way she cared for them both ‘with the tenderness of a mother’.4
Although an optimist hailed the little duke as a ‘brave, lively-like boy’, one of Anne’s household servants described him as ‘a very weakly child’ who was not expected to live long. The first wet nurse chosen for him had nipples too big for him to fasten on to, but after a suitable replacement had been found he began to feed, and his prospects of survival improved. Then at six weeks ‘he was taken with convulsion fits, which followed so quick one after another that the physicians from London despaired of his life’. When they suggested that another change of milk might help, an urgent appeal was put out, and for days ‘nurses with young children came many at a time … from town and the adjacent villages’. It was specified that applicants must have only recently given birth themselves, and one woman who initially was taken on was sent away after a vigilant lady-in-waiting inspected the parish registers and discovered that she was lying about her child’s age. The position remained vacant until George caught sight of a woman named Mrs Pack, whose ugliness made her ‘fitter to go to a pigsty than to a Prince’s bed’, but nevertheless looked sturdy enough to do the job well. Sure enough, when she offered her breast, th
e child latched on, and within hours his condition visibly improved. Revered as the Prince’s saviour, Mrs Pack was accorded high status within the household, and ‘the whole time she suckled the Duke there were positive orders given that nobody should contradict her’.5
In fact, the child’s recovery may have owed little to the health-giving properties of Mrs Pack’s milk. His convulsions had probably been caused by an illness such as meningitis or a middle ear infection, and the passing of the crisis merely happened to coincide with Mrs Pack’s appearance on the scene. Furthermore, his recovery was not complete. An infection of this kind can interfere with the absorption of the cerebro-spinal fluid, causing arrested hydrocephalus, or water on the brain. It seems that this is what happened in this case.6
By 7 October the child was well enough for the Princess to move back to London. Motherhood now offered her a chance of personal fulfilment, but relations with the King and Queen were proving difficult. Once the excitement of their reunion had faded, Mary’s initial friendliness towards her sister had abated. Sarah, now Countess of Marlborough, attributed this to the two women having incompatible temperaments, as the Queen, who was naturally talkative, found her uncommunicative sister dreary company. As for William, he soon developed a strong antipathy for his sister-in-law. Judging that Anne and George ‘had been of more use to him than they were ever like to be again’ (as Sarah acerbically put it), the King saw no need to make much of the couple. He regarded George as unattractive and stupid, telling an English politician he was simply ‘an encumbrance’. In 1688 he had dismissed the Prince as incapable of weighty affairs, and he despised him for not being more assertive with his wife.7
Queen Anne: The Politics of Passion Page 16
