Royal Sisters: The Story of the Daughters of James II (61 page)

“I’ll take young Peter Bathurst.”

Lewis nodded. “I shall be near to give a hand, but be careful. He’s full of fire, but he’s not strong.”

“His head is too big, I think,” commented Peter Boscawen.

“He’s a game one. Won’t say when he has any sort of pain. Think generals have to forget all that. But as I say, have a care.”

Peter Boscawen was a cautious defender of the gallery and stairs, all the time giving way when in combat with Gloucester. But Peter Bathurst could not restrain himself; he became over excited and determined to hold the gallery at all costs. He had slipped the sheath from his sword and as Gloucester began to mount the steps dealt him a blow on his neck which started the blood to flow.

Lewis, horrified, saw what had happened and called: “Truce! Truce for the wounded!”

Gloucester looked at him in astonishment. “What wounded?”

“You, General, are wounded in the neck.”

“I shall not give up for a scratch, man,” cried Gloucester and charged up the stairs sending young Bathurst sprawling.

By the time the fortress was taken, Lewis was at hand with a doctor. The wound was slightly more than Gloucester would admit until the battle was over.

When his mother saw the bandage about his neck she was worried.

There was no way of protecting him, she told George, for he was the bravest boy in the world.

“My dear,” said George, “there must be other children. If you had another son … two other sons … you would not fret so much over him.”

“Perhaps next time we shall be more fortunate.”

Next time! Since her marriage she had been pregnant for most of the time—to what avail? Continual disappointment—and one boy who, while he was the most precious thing in her life, was a continual anxiety.

With the passing
of summer Anne and her family returned to St. James’s. Two events occurred which caused consternation, not only in Anne’s household but throughout the country.

The first was the affair of Sir John Fenwick, the well known Jacobite who had insulted Queen Mary when she was riding in the Park by refusing to take off his hat. Fenwick was suspected of being involved in the Assassination Plot with Sir George Barclay and Robert Charnock. The plot was that with forty men they were to ride out to a lane between Brentford and Turnham Green and when William came past in his coach-and-six on his way from Richmond to London, set upon him and kill him. The plot was divulged before it could be carried out; Barclay escaped to France and Charnock was captured, found guilty of treason and hanged, drawn and quartered at Tyburn. Fenwick’s name was mentioned in papers which were captured on Charnock and he was named as a general in the army which was to be raised after William’s assassination in order to put James II back on the throne. Fenwick getting wind of his danger at once went into hiding and made efforts to leave the country. These failed and he was captured and made a prisoner in the Tower while investigations went on. Realizing that he must eventually be found guilty he accused some of the leading Whigs of being implicated. Among these was Marlborough.

Sarah was in a panic. Just as she had brought her son to Court and was hoping to have her husband proclaimed Governor of the Duke of Gloucester, there was this fresh scare.

So far William had given no honors to Marlborough and although he was allowed to come to Court he was almost as much in the shadows as ever. This could be a further check to her hopes—and as she knew that her husband had been corresponding with the King over the Water, she was terrified of further revelations.

William, however, was well aware of Marlborough’s Jacobite tendencies. But he knew that Marlborough would work for the winning side, and at the moment William was on that. He was turning over in his mind whether Marlborough should be given a post, for he was certain that hope of advancement was the best way of making sure of his loyalty.

William ignored Fenwick’s accusations; the man was found guilty and beheaded on Tower Hill. His goods were confiscated and William took possession of them. One of these, it was remembered later, was a particularly spirited horse named Sorrel, which became one of William’s favorite mounts.

The King returned to Flanders and because of his successes there the Treaty of Ryswick was signed and this, to a war-weary people, caused great rejoicing.

But the event which was somewhat startling to so many was a rumor that William was considering bringing home a bride.

William returned to
England, minus a bride. It was only necessary to take a glance at him to realize that there could scarcely be truth in a rumor of that sort. He looked old and wizened; his asthma was noticeably worse; his cough was troublesome and his intimate servants knew that he frequently spat blood; he suffered torments from hemorrhoids and during the last months had begun to feel pains in his legs which had begun to swell alarmingly. He was more irascible than ever, and more liberal with his use of the cane; many of those close to him whispered hopefully together that he could not last much longer.

There was a revival of the old Jacobite songs and often William heard them whistled, although none of them dared sing the words in his hearing. The favorite at the moment was one which had come from Scotland, where most of them originated and called Willie the Whig.

He whiggit us out of our right
And he whiggit us out of laws
And he whiggit us out of our King
Oh, that grieves us worst of all
.

Popular favor was turning more and more to Anne, and this was largely due to young Gloucester. Crowds gathered to see him drilling his soldiers in the parks; they applauded and called “God bless the Prince.” They were looking forward to the day when he would be their King; they were weary of Dutch William; he would like to have told them that he was weary of them.

Elizabeth Villiers was now the Countess of Orkney and seemed satisfied with her marriage. He met her at Loo, but it was not the old relationship which he had enjoyed for so many years. He was tired and very sick; yet still some belief in his own destiny drove him on and he knew he would never give up his three kingdoms until death overtook him.

It was written that they should be his; and his they had become and should remain until death took him.

He called on Anne. It was necessary to show the people that they were on excellent terms. He had given her St. James’s for a residence; he had allowed her to spend her summers at Windsor. He himself was content with Kensington Palace and most of all Hampton Court. He could not breathe the damp air of Whitehall for long.

He inspected Gloucester’s troops and never did the people cheer him so loyally as when he was in the company of his nephew.

The boy seemed well; perhaps he would grow out of his delicateness, and the water in his head disperse; if this could be, he would make a fine King, one to whom William could happily leave his inheritance.

He talked pleasantly with Anne, curbing the irritability which she always aroused in him.

“My boy is no longer a child,” she was saying. “He should have a governor and I know of none who would fill the post as skillfully as my Lord Marlborough.”

“Marlborough,” repeated William thoughtfully; and he thought of the Fenwick affair and how mischief could always be found for idle hands. Better to have Marlborough occupied at Court, well satisfied than in half-banishment plotting. Marlborough was too clever a fellow to fail every time. “I think it a good choice,” he said.

Anne’s plump cheeks quivered with pleasure.

“I am glad to have Your Majesty’s gracious consent to the appointment,” she replied.

She could scarcely wait for him to leave; she was longing to call her dear Mrs. Freeman to tell her that at last their desire was achieved.

To annoy her, William stayed longer than he had intended, and when he rose he could scarcely walk. He would have to do something about this new complaint in his legs.

Keppel was beside him. Dear Keppel! Beautiful, fresh faced, attentive—for what he could get most likely, but when one was old and weary one was grateful even for bought attentions.

Oh, for the good days, the days when he had felt like a god among men; when the affection of Bentinck and the adoration of Mary had supported him in the role he had chosen for himself.

On horseback he was more comfortable—apart from the accursed hemorrhoids. He had always felt better mounted; he touched his horse’s flanks lightly and they were off. The creature responded to a touch. All his horses knew their master and because he showed more affection for them than he did for many people within their limits they gave him what he wanted—respect and devotion.

In the Palace he said he would rest for a while and told Keppel to send for Dr. Radcliffe who was known to be one of the best doctors in the country. A blunt man, an unashamed Jacobite who had declared openly that he had little time for the Whig Sovereigns. He had been physician to the King of England and if that King was across the water that didn’t mean that others who called themselves Kings were worthy of the name.

A man, thought William, who in some reigns would have been in the Tower. All the same he was the cleverest of doctors and when one was ill one did not think so much of politics.

In any case, thought William, I am surrounded by Jacobites; and such was the spirit of the age, fostered by the spate of writing so often in the form of lampoons and songs, that they must be endured.

Radcliffe came; he examined the King.

What a wreck of a man! he thought. He’s breaking up all over. Spitting blood for years; cough that racks his body; this alone would have killed most men years ago. And his legs? Just a further sign of decay.

There was a touch of contempt in the manner in which he prodded William’s body. A Whig Sovereign who had usurped the throne from the true King and a wreck of a man into the bargain! But a King—with a belief in his own destiny that was an inner vitality which kept him afloat.

“The climate’s no good to you,” said Radcliffe with a touch of mischief. He meant Get back to Holland and leave England for those to whom it belonged. William sensed the insolence. That word “climate” was often used ambiguously in his hearing. How often had he been told that the climate was not good for him.

“Perforce I must endure it,” replied William coldly.

“At Your Majesty’s peril,” continued the doctor.

The man was getting offensive; he need not think that his reputation as a doctor gave him the right to insult the throne.

“And my legs?” asked William tersely.

“I wouldn’t have Your Majesty’s two legs for your three kingdoms,” retorted the doctor.

William was now incensed; if his cane had been handy he might have been tempted to slash it across that insolent face.

“You may retire,” he said coldly.

Radcliffe bowed.

“I do not mean from my presence merely. You are dismissed from the Court.”

Radcliffe bowed again, smiling as though the King had bestowed some honor.

He left the apartment; some minutes later William heard the sound of whistling beneath his window as someone passed by. He looked out. It was Radcliffe on his way, whistling as he went, “Willie the Whig.”

THE GREAT TRAGEDY

arah was jubilant
.