Plaidy, Jean - Royal Sisters: The Story of the Daughters of James II
There were no cries of “No popery” in the streets now, but were the people satisfied? If Mary had seemed a little contrite, if William had not been so dour, they would have been more ready to accept them.
What had they done? they asked themselves. It was true they wanted no popery; but was it going to be the days of Oliver Cromwell all over again? They did not like sour Dutchmen; they did not like ungrateful daughters. Someone produced a verse which appealed to many, and all over the city it was being quoted. It was written after the Coronation and ran:
There through the dusk-red towers—amidst his ring
Of Vans and Mynheers rode the Dutchman King;
And there did England’s Goneril thrill to hear,
The shouts that triumphed o’er her crownless Lear.
A DISH OF GREEN PEAS
here was little time now for dallying at Hampton Court and making exciting plans for its reconstruction. Ireland was almost entirely in the hands of James; and certain areas of Scotland had declared for him. There was discord in Parliament between Whigs and Tories; William was unpopular with the English who admired a colorful King like Charles II; France had taken the opportunity to increase activity against Holland.
“I wish,” said William to his dear friend Bentinck, “that I were a thousand miles away. I am not wanted here. The Queen is regarded as the ruler so I am of a mind to return to Holland and leave her here to govern.”
Bentinck regarded him sadly. William had greatly desired this crown and having married Mary for it, it seemed impossible that, now that he had attained it, he should return to Holland.
Bentinck himself would have been delighted to go home; but he did not believe that William would so lightly abandon a lifetime’s ambition.
Yet William summoned a Council of Ministers.
“I have made a mistake in accepting this crown,” he said. “I can do nothing more for you when you are warring with each other and resent me. The Queen pleases you, so I will leave the government in her hands and go to Holland.”
There was an immediate protest from the Council.
“I have been ill-used,” William reminded them, “and in such circumstances have no wish to remain. I told you when I took the crown that I did not attach such importance to it as some men did.”
So vehement were the protests that William saw how strong his position was.
“If I remained in control of this realm, I should depart at once for Ireland,” he said; but there was further protest at his suggestion, for they said they needed his services in England and begged him to remain.
He shrugged his shoulders. “I am a Protestant,” he said, “So I must do my duty, for this country could so easily be lost to the papists.”
When Mary heard that William had threatened to leave for Holland she was distraught, and went to William with tears in her eyes and begged him not to leave her.
“You have succeeded in making yourself popular with the people,” he told her. “They want you, but they are not inclined to accept me.”
“They are so foolish, William.”
“The Council of Ministers have begged me to stay. So they appear to think I may be of use to them.”
“Then I join my pleas with theirs, William.”
He looked at her coldly, remembering her outburst on the morning of the Coronation. Deep within her there was great pride, and occasionally it asserted itself. He could not forget the manner in which she had upbraided him for letting James go. What had she wanted? Him to murder her father? Hold him a prisoner? Have him brought to trial?
She had dared to criticize him! It was for this reason that he had threatened to return to Holland, although in his heart he had no intention of going. Marlborough had been sent to Flanders, and Marlborough was one of the most brilliant of his soldiers, although he was a man completely dominated by self-interest and one must, while making use of his services, never forget that fact and be wary of him.
There was no need for William to go to Holland therefore; and he had no intention of going. He wanted his wife to grovel in her desire to keep him at her side, to pay for her insolence on the Coronation morning; he wanted the ministers to acknowledge that he and he alone was the man to deliver their country from the threat of papistry. Once they admitted this he would give his untiring devotion to their Cause—which was his own. But there must be continual appreciation, because there were times when his physical disabilities were almost unbearable. It was bad enough to be smaller than most men, slightly hunchbacked, far from prepossessing, but when in addition he was cursed with asthma, which was improved by riding in the open air, and by hemorrhoids which made riding often an agony, he must remind those about him constantly that in matters of the mind he towered farther above them, in spite of their physical advantages.
He released himself from the Queen’s embraces. “Very well,” he said. “But I had thought that since you expressed your disapproval of the manner in which I was conducting affairs, you might wish to govern alone.”
“Oh, William, you are thinking of that stupid stupid remark of mine. I was so distressed. It was the letter from my father coming at such a time. I must implore you to forgive me. I must assure you that I could not endure to live here while you were in Holland. You know that I only live for you.”
It was enough.
He said coolly: “Very well, I shall remain. But pray remember in future that I do not care to be treated with disrespect at any time, more especially in the presence of my subjects.”
“I will remember, and I crave your forgiveness, William, on my knees.…”
“Have done. I shall remain.”
He left her and she wept quietly wondering whether he had gone to Elizabeth Villiers or to Bentinck.
The Princess Anne was growing discontented. Looking around her it seemed to her that everyone was benefiting from the new reign except herself.
Sarah and John Churchill had their new title and the revenues that went with it. Mary was Queen of England and William was King, for as long as he should live, which meant that Anne had been set back a place.
This she would have accepted if the new King and Queen had treated her more kindly. All during the years of separation she and Mary had corresponded and deplored their separation; but now that they were together again they found that over the years they had changed. They were not the inseparable companions they had been in childhood. Mary had become the complete slave of that Dutch Monster whom nobody could like because he was so bad tempered and uncouth; Mary was simply not herself. She wanted to talk incessantly and play cards and dance—which was all very well, but at the same time she had to do exactly what Dutch William wanted her to. Mary was, it seemed to Anne, like a shadow of Caliban in spite of her easy manners and love of pleasure. Everything he said was right in her opinion, whereas everything Anne said and did was wrong.
Anne loved cards more than anything; she loved to gossip too, but she found she had little to say to Mary, who did not seem to like Sarah.
Anne was pregnant and she was becoming uneasy because she had had so many disappointments. This time she desired to have a son even more fervently than usual so that she could score over her sister who quite clearly could not get one.
George was pleasant but dull; he provided no excitement. To everything one said, however exciting a piece of gossip, he would murmur: “Est-il possible?” and then nod drowsily. He was getting fatter and slept a great deal of the time, and although Anne was sure he was the best husband she could have, she did not find his company stimulating.
That left Sarah. What would she do without Sarah—dear, violent, amusing Sarah, who could always make her feel alive on her most sluggish days!
Sarah was always fomenting trouble; and now that she had her Marlborough title, she was showing quite clearly her dislike of the Queen.
She came into Anne’s apartments to find her mistress drowsing, but as soon as Anne saw her she felt alert. Something had happened to make Sarah indignant.
“My dear Mrs. Morley,” she cried. “What now do you think? I have had this straight from Dillon, who heard it from Keppel.”
Dillon was a page in the Marlborough household and Keppel one in attendance on the King.
“Pray sit down, dear Mrs. Freeman, and tell me what is agitating you.”
“As you can guess it concerns my dear Mrs. Morley, for it is when I see injustice done to her that I lose my temper.”
“Oh, dear,” sighed Anne. “What injustice?”
“Caliban has summoned Godolphin. He is a mean fellow, this King of ours. He cannot bear that money should be spent on anything but building and gardens and wars to set him more firmly on the throne. He asked Godolphin how it was possible for you to spend thirty thousand pounds a year.”
“How possible!” screamed Anne.
“Oh, yes, to mean William that seems a great deal of money.”
Anne’s face puckered. “But how can I manage on it?”
How could she indeed, Sarah wondered, when she gave such magnificent gifts to her friends and lost so much at cards. Wasting it on cards was folly, but it was well for Anne to have some outlet for spending money or there might be an inquiry as to where it all went. Gifts to the Churchills took care of quite a large portion of it; but the money was not wasted, Sarah assured herself; the Churchills were not people to fritter away their money. John was the most cautious of men—some might call him mean—and Sarah was no spendthrift. They wished to grow richer each year and Heaven knew they had begun poor enough.
No, Anne’s income must certainly not be cut for that would mean less gifts for the Churchills.
“One thing I will not endure,” said Sarah, “and that is to see my dear Mrs. Morley treated in this way. Where would they be if it were not for you? Who was it who kept them supplied with information? Who was it who made the way easy for them?”
“You, dear Mrs. Freeman.”
“Oh, no, no! It was my dear good kind Mrs. Morley. And how do they repay her? Have they forgotten that she stood aside to give him the sovereignty he was greedily demanding? Yes, they have forgotten. Depend upon it, Mrs. Morley, unless you stand firm, William will cut your income and that is something which I shall not allow you to accept.”
“Indeed not. My father was so good to me, was he not? Do you remember how when I was in debt he never failed to help me.”
“I remember.”
Anne looked tearfully at her friend. Life had really been more comfortable when her father had been on the throne. Mary and William were not nearly so affectionate. When Anne thought of the letter her father had sent to Mary which she had received on Coronation day and in which he had talked of curses, she wanted to weep, not so much with remorse but with terror, for she felt herself to be included in those curses. A father’s curse was a frightening thing to have hanging over one—particularly when one was expecting a child.
She began to wish that she had been a more dutiful daughter, that she had not allowed her fondness for gossip to embroil her in this affair which, from its beginnings as an exciting topic of conversation, had grown into a revolution.
Sarah following Anne’s thoughts put a stop to them immediately.
“All will be well as long as you stand up for your rights. They must not browbeat you, which is what they will do if they can.”
“Mary has changed so. She talks so much and I have nothing … simply nothing … to say to her.”
“I have thought of something you can say to her. This place is unfit for an heiress to the crown—and whatever they say you are that.”
“Unless they should have a child.”
Sarah gave a coarse laugh. “My dear Mrs. Morley expects the impossible. William would if he could but he can’t. That is why he pretends to spend so much time with his mistress. I tell you this, Bentinck is more to his taste than even Squint-eyed Betty, and between her and Bentinck he has no strength left for the Queen.”
Anne laughed. Sarah could always amuse.
“But Mrs. Morley, let us get back to important affairs. Is it right that the heiress to the throne should be housed in … squalor!”
Anne looked surprised. The Cockpit was a delightful place and she had always loved it; but for Sarah she would have gone on living contentedly there, never wanting to change.
“No, there are some wonderful apartments in Whitehall; those which your Uncle Charles had rebuilt for the Duchess of Portsmouth. They are the most magnificent in the palace, and if Charles thought only them good enough for Portsmouth, then I say that only they are good enough for the heiress to the Crown.”
“I know the apartments you mean, Mrs. Freeman. They are beautiful.”
“Then you must ask your sister for them without delay. This will show them that you are aware of your position, of all you have sacrificed for them, and that it is time they began to treat you with due respect. This will make them see that they cannot begin fiddle-faddling with the accounts.”
“I believe you are right, Sarah dear.”
“I know I am.”
The Queen looked coldly at her sister. How enormous she was! It must be a large child. Mary hoped it would be a boy for she longed to see a child who would one day carry on the line.
Anne ate too many sweets. Mary admitted that she herself was inclined to corpulence; it was a trait they had both inherited from their mother. Mary dearly loved a cup of chocolate and although she knew she was putting on weight every day, she could not resist that and other delicacies. But Anne was even fatter and even more devoted to her food.
Anne was a disappointment. That absurd infatuation with Sarah Churchill meant that Sarah Churchill was making important decisions which she should never have had the power to do. If they were not careful, these Churchills would be running the country. William had said that it was a matter they must watch and William was naturally right.
Even a foolish creature like Anne could have a great effect on the country’s affairs; it was a sobering thought.
We have grown far away from each other, thought Mary; although I always thought her foolish and greedy. She imitated me in everything; I wish she would now devote more of her time to George—though I have to admit he is a fool and not in the least like William—instead of giving way all the time to that Churchill woman.
“I wish to leave the Cockpit,” said Anne.
“Leave the Cockpit! But I thought you were so comfortable there.”
“Perhaps not leave it entirely but I believe that in view of my position I should have apartments in Whitehall.”
