A.D. 1696.
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As the anniversary of King William's birthday approached there was a flutter of excitement at court, and all the beaux and belles of the English nobility flocked to town to attend the grand reception that was to take place. This was no pleasure to William, for he had been aided in such matters by his wife, who had known better how to conduct herself on such occasions than he did; and now that he had to undertake a ceremony which he disliked, with no one one to guide him, he felt his bereavement more deeply than ever. If he had been friendly towards Anne he might have enlisted her services, and escaped from some of the etiquette that was so irksome to him. But instead of that, he actually treated her with no more consideration than he showed to the wives of the aldermen and common councilmen, and kept her waiting with them for nearly two hours in the ante-chamber. This insult was repeated on several similar occasions, until the public began to murmur, and the English officials who had access to the king took the liberty of reminding him that her royal highness was his superior by birth, and that the nation would not submit to his showing contempt towards their princess. Then his majesty deemed it prudent to alter his arrangements, and at the future receptions the lord chamberlain was instructed to usher her royal highness into the presence chamber immediately on her arrival. After that, all her attendants were treated with respect, and the king showed himself enough of a diplomatist to extend favors that would redound to his own credit. He called at Campden House and requested Princess Anne and her husband to take possession of St. James's Palace as soon as they pleased, and further surprised them with the announcement that as a garter had fallen into his possession by the death of Lord Strafford, he intended to bestow it upon his nephew, the Duke of Gloucester. This visit was succeeded by one from Burnet, the Bishop of Salisbury, who came with the information that a meeting of the Order of the Garter would be held on the sixth of January, and asked the duke if the thought of becoming a knight did not please him. "I am more pleased at the king's favor," was the discreet reply.
It was King William himself who buckled on the little duke's garter and presented the star, both of which he was to wear daily forever after,—though that office was usually performed by one of the knights.
After resting for awhile in his mother's room on his return to Campden-House, the duke went to his play-room, where he met Harry Scull, his favorite drummer. "Your dream has come true, Harry," gladly announced the royal boy, displaying his star and garter to his companion, who had dreamed that he saw his commander so adorned.
At this period the duke's malady seems to have been for a time arrested, for he looked well and was full of animal spirits. This rendered his mother happier than she had been in many a day, besides she was residing in the palace of her ancestors, her rank was recognized by the king and his government, and she regularly received a liberal income. Windsor Castle was granted to her for her summer residence, though it was occasionally shared by her royal brother-in-law, who had reserved for his exclusive use Hampton Court and Kensington Palace. There was only one flaw in the happiness of Princess Anne at this period, and that was a report that when the king returned from his summer campaign there was a probability that he would bring home a Dutch bride.
Meanwhile, the Duke of Gloucester was taken to Windsor, for the first time, in company with his parents. The princess ordered Mrs. Atkinson to show her son the royal apartments in the castle, and to give him a description of the pictures. The child was particularly pleased with St. George's Hall, and clapped his hands with delight as he declared that the noble apartment would be just the place for him to fight his battles in. Next day four boys were summoned from Eaton School to be the duke's companions. They were young Lord Churchill, a mild, good-natured boy, somewhat older than the duke, son of Lord and Lady Marlborough, the two Bathursts, and Peter Boscawen. As soon as they appeared, the duke proposed that a battle should be fought in St. George's Hall, and sent for all his pikes, swords, and muskets. The music gallery, and the stairs leading to it, were to represent the castle that he meant to besiege. Mrs. Atkinson and Lewis Jenkins were in attendance, and both were expected to take part in the battle. Young Boscawen and Peter Bathurst were the enemy, and had been secretly requested not to hurt the duke; but in the heat of the fray the latter lost the sheath from his sword, and before he made the discovery had wounded the duke in the neck.
Jenkins stopped the battle to ascertain the nature of the wound; but, staunching the blood with his handkerchief, the youth rushed up the stairs into the enemy's garrison.
When the battle was over, the duke asked Mrs. Atkinson if she had a surgeon near by.
"Oh, yes," she replied, "bustling about to revive the soldiers who pretended to be dead or dying."
"Pray make no jest of it," urged the child, "for Peter Bathurst has really wounded me in the battle."
The hurt was bathed and plastered up, and no serious consequence resulted; but there are not, I fancy, many boys less than seven years of age who would have continued the game, as the duke did, with the blood trickling from a wound. The sight of blood terrifies some children. Not so with the Duke of Gloucester; for when he attended his first hunt at Windsor Park, the deer's throat was cut, after it had been shot, just at his feet. Then Mr. Massam, his page, dipped his hand in the blood and smeared it all over the duke's face. This excited great surprise; but on being informed that such was the custom at first seeing a deer slain, the mischievous little duke dipped his hands in the blood and besmeared the faces of Jenkins and all the boys.
Princess Anne shrieked with terror one day when walking in the park with her husband to see her son roll down the hill of one of the castle fortifications, but he reassured her by declaring that when he was engaged in battles and sieges he would have to get used to descending such places. Prince George laughed, and always encouraged the child to such exploits with the hope of thereby making him more hardy.
July 24, being the Duke of Gloucester's birthday, a grand banquet was given at St. George's Hall, at the king's expense, to the Knights of the Garter. The princess was present, and had the proud satisfaction of seeing her son walk in procession with the other knights from St. George's Chapel to the hall. All the gentlemen wore their splendid robes of the order, and took their places at the long tables in accordance with their rank. The little duke appeared in his plumes and all the gorgeous regalia that had been provided for him, and comported himself among the full-grown knights with wonderful dignity.
In the evening the princess gave a splendid ball, and received all the nobility, many of whom came from different parts of the country to do honor to the occasion. The town of Windsor was illuminated, bells rang out merrily, and the bright blaze of bonfires lit up the surrounding scene for a great distance. There were besides fireworks on the terrace, which delighted the young duke beyond everything. The entertainment concluded with a musical drama, written expressly to celebrate the birthday.
A few days later another festival to celebrate the wedding anniversary of Princess Anne and Prince George of Denmark was held. In the morning the royal couple went to visit their son, and found him superintending the firing of his little cannon in honor of the day. Three rounds were fired, which almost deafened the royal mamma, and excited her fears because of the quantity of gunpowder the duke had at his command. After this salute the boy approached his parents of his own accord, and, making a profound bow, said: "Papa, I wish you and mamma unity, peace, and concord,—not for a time, but forever." Of course the parents were charmed with the courtesy and respect of their little pet, and embraced him warmly.
Some hours later, Jenkins said to him: "You made a fine compliment to their royal highnesses to-day, sir," whereupon the child returned, with gravity, "It was no compliment; it was sincere." Thus the little fellow constantly made remarks far beyond his years, and excited the wonder and admiration of all who surrounded him.
A.D. 1697. At the beginning of the new year great excitement prevailed because of the discovery of a plot against the life of the king. Sir John Fenwick was discovered to be at the head of it, and was arrested on a charge of high treason. When he found that he was to suffer death without a regular trial, Sir John gave such extraordinary evidence against the majority of the nobility, including most of the king's ministers, whom he accused of corresponding with James II., that it was said if half of the number had been arrested for treason there would not have been enough left to hang or behead the rest. Marlborough was aimed at particularly; but that could have been no surprise to William, who knew that the earl not only wrote himself during Queen Mary's lifetime, but induced Princess Anne to do likewise. But his majesty winked at this accusation, because he was convinced that personal interest would now prompt the princess and her party to continue loyal to him. Fenwick was beheaded on Tower Hill, and all his revelations were quietly ignored, but the king took pains to possess himself of all Sir John's private papers. He also kept a remarkable sorrel shooting pony that had belonged to him; but of this animal we shall hear more in the future.
Twelve gentlemen were executed the same year for plotting to waylay William and kill him, in the midst of his guards, on his return from a hunting expedition. The public were on the alert for any bit of news they could glean, and excitement ran high during the trials and executions, which took place at intervals throughout the year. Associations were formed for the protection of the king, and all sorts of addresses, containing assurances of loyalty, were sent to him from corporations and private individuals. The Duke of Gloucester was one of the latter. He caused one of his soldiers, older than himself, to write the following document, to which he affixed his signature, for he could read and write quite well for so young a person:—
I, your majesty's most dutiful subject, had rather lose my life in your majesty's cause than in any man's else, and I hope it will not be long ere you conquer France. Gloucester.
Another address from the same source, signed by all his boy-soldiers and the various members of the household, ran thus: "We, your majesty's subjects, will stand by you while we have a drop of blood." Such proceedings on the part of the little duke convinced William III. that the princess was bringing up her son as his partisan, and that at least was gratifying.
He honored the festival given on the anniversary of Princess Anne's birth with his presence, and witnessed the introduction at court of the young duke, who appeared in a rich blue velvet coat. All the button-holes were studded with diamonds, and each button was composed of a superb brilliant, some of which had belonged to Queen Mary, and were presented by the king to her sister after her death.
When the boy had been installed as Knight of the Garter, his majesty had presented him with a jewel worth seven hundred pounds, which he wore also on this occasion. His flowing white periwig did not detract from the beauty of his clear bright complexion and soft blue eyes; and the little duke was the centre of attraction, surrounded by a bevy of lords and ladies, who flocked to her royal highness' drawing-room.
The king was very fond of his little nephew, and, indeed, of all children, as this anecdote goes to prove: He was waiting one day in a private room for one of his secretaries, who was rather later than usual, when a gentle tap was heard on the door. "Who is there?" asked the king. "Lord Buck," was the reply; whereupon the king arose, opened the door and beheld a little boy four years of age. It was young Lord Buckhurst, son of the Lord High Chamberlain.
"And what does Lord Buck want?" asked William.
"I want you to be my horse; I have waited for you a long time."
With an amiable smile, his majesty took hold of the wagon, and dragged the little noble up and down the long gallery until he was satisfied. From the matter-of-fact way in which this favor was received by the child, there was ample proof that King William was not on duty as horse for the first time.
A.D. 1698. Up to this year the education of the Duke of Gloucester had been left in his mother's charge, because he was by no means strong, and it was not considered advisable to push him too fast. He had now arrived at the age of eight, and like all other royal children he would probably be given in charge to some great noble or clergyman. His mother dreaded the idea of parting with the delicate child, whom she had reared with so much difficulty, and was willing to make any sacrifice rather than to do so. Parliament voted the enormous sum of fifty thousand pounds per annum for the education and establishment of the Duke of Gloucester, but the king had power to dispose of the child. This was what alarmed the fond mother, for she knew that if he chose to exercise this power his majesty could annoy her excessively. It was therefore happiness to find that he only insisted on two points: one was to manage to pay out as little of the fifty thousand pounds per annum, as possible; the other was that Dr. Burnet, Bishop of Salisbury, should fill the post of preceptor. This appointment was by no means agreeable to the princess, but the king was inexorable, and she was forced to submit. The duke was to live at Windsor, and the bishop was to have ten weeks of each year to attend to duties that would oblige him to give his pupil a vacation. Strange to say, the Earl of Marlborough was appointed chief governor to the young duke notwithstanding the king's former hatred of him. But this is not so remarkable as it may at first appear, if we consider that the majority of the council of nine were Marlborough's friends, who knew his power and the influence he exercised over the mind of the heiress to the throne. The appointment was therefore popular with them, particularly as he was of their number. Then again, instead of believing for a moment that in the event of his death, Marlborough and Princess Anne would desire to recall King James or his son, the king calculated that they would renounce any claim but that of the Duke of Gloucester, over whose mind the earl would have established an empire, and in whose interest he would betray the distant heir. The appointment of Marlborough was eminently satisfactory to the princess, and there were few alterations made in the list she sent of other officers for her son's household.
Lady Marlborough continued in the Princess Anne's household, but after her husband's lofty appointment she became somewhat arrogant and overbearing. The princess could not help noticing this change, which extended even to herself, and sometimes she would let fall a word or two of complaint to Abigail Hill, an humble relation of Lady Marlborough, to whom she was indebted for her position at court.
A.D. 1699. During the next year or two Princess Anne continued her court with unusual splendor, while the little duke studied so hard that all his vivacity disappeared, and when he was ten years of age his face had a worn look, old enough for a youth of seventeen at least, and pitiful to behold.
We have said very little about the duke's father, for the simple reason that he led an easy, luxurious sort of a life, inoffensive and void of ambition. Somebody said of him:
"That, though he was not quite dead, he had to breathe hard to prevent being buried, because nobody perceived any other sign of life in him." Perhaps it would be well for mankind if other princes were as quiet; certainly he spared himself a deal of trouble by not interfering with public affairs.
We have seen that Bishop Burnet was appointed preceptor to the Duke of Gloucester; he was at the same time almoner to her majesty, the princess, and one of the most conceited men that ever lived. He usually preached at St. James's, and although Queen Mary had declared that his were "thundering long sermons," he could not comprehend why the ladies at court failed to give him their undivided attention. It seems that the women of the seventeenth century would cast sly glances at the beaux in church, and examine the costumes of the belles just as they do in the present one; but Bishop Burnet would not submit to such disrespect towards his own sweet self. He wanted every eye fixed on him while he preached; so, after making several complaints to Princess Anne, he at last hit upon a remedy which met with her approval. It was to have the pews where the ladies sat so barricaded with high railings that the occupants could only see beyond them by raising their eyes, and as he was the only high object when in the pulpit, they must look at him or at no man. Of course this arrangement excited indignation of the fair damsels no less than of the courtiers, one of whom vented his wrath by the composition of a ballad that he took good care should come under the notice of the intermeddling bishop. It ran thus:—
"When Burnet perceived that the beautiful dames.
Who flocked to the chapel of holy St. James.
On their lovers alone their kind looks did bestow.
And smiled not at him when he bellowed below,
To the Princess he went,
With a pious intent,
This dangerous ill in the church to prevent.
'Oh, madam,' he said, ' our religion is lost,
If the ladies thus ogle the knights of the toast.
"'Your highness observes how I labor and sweat,
Their affections to raise and attention to get;
And sure when I preach, all the world will agree,
That their eyes and their ears should be pointed at me
But now I can find
No beauty so kind,
My parts to regard or my person to mind;
Nay, I scarce have the sight of one feminine face
But those of Old Oxford and ugly Arglass.
"'These practices, madam, my preaching disgrace.
Shall laymen enjoy the just rights of my place?
Then all may lament my condition so hard,
Who thrash in the pulpit without a reward.
Therefore pray condescend
Such disorders to end,
And to the ripe vineyard the laborers send,
To build up the seats that the beauties may see
The face of no brawling pretender but me.'
"The Princess by the man's importunity prest,
Though she laugh'd at his reasons allowed his request.
And now Britain's nymphs in a Protestant reign
Are locked up at prayers like the virgins in Spain."
A.D. 1700. The eleventh birthday of the Duke of Gloucester was celebrated at Windsor with the usual rejoicings. The boy reviewed his soldiers, received and made presents, fired his cannon at intervals during the day, and presided over a grand banquet in the evening. His system was very much run down by the strain of hard study, and this day of excitement proved too much for him. The following morning found him with a sick headache and sore throat, and towards night he became delirious. The family physician reduced the little duke's vitality still further by bleeding him according to the custom of the times. He grew worse, and there was great lamentation in the royal household because the princess's quarrel with Dr. Radcliffe prevented his being summoned, for everybody had confidence in his skill. At last a messenger was dispatched with a humble request to the doctor to visit the little sufferer. After a great deal of urging he consented, and pronounced the disease scarlet fever. He asked who bled the duke. The physician in attendance replied that he had done so. "Then you have destroyed him, and you may finish him," said Radcliffe, "for I will not prescribe."
Of course the learned man was much censured for wilfully refusing to save the child, but he knew only too well that all his efforts would have been of no avail. Five days after his birthday festival the little duke expired.
Lord Marlborough, who had gone to Althorpe, was summoned to the sick bed of his youthful master, but arrived too late.
The bereaved mother watched beside her dying boy to the end, hoping against hope; and when nothing remained but his lifeless body, she arose, and with an expression of sad resignation on her countenance, quietly left the room. Then her thoughts were directed towards the father she had wronged, and she wrote him a letter filled with the most penitent expressions, and telling him that she looked upon her cruel loss as a blow from Heaven in punishment of her cruelty towards him. Retribution had come at last! At that moment, when the object in whom all her hopes were centered lay cold in death, Princess Anne yearned for the sympathy of the parent who had ever been most kind and indulgent to her, and she immediately sent her letter to St. Germain by express.
Lord Marlborough forwarded the sad news to King William, but his majesty made no reply for three whole months. The reason for this neglect was because Anne had written to her father, and the king found it out, although it was managed, as she thought, very secretly. William had always shown so much affection for his nephew that his failing to send any message of condolence or sorrow was the more remarkable.
The little duke's remains lay in state in the suite of apartments he had occupied, and afterwards they were removed to Westminster, to be interred in Henry VII.'s Chapel. The English ambassador at the court of France was placed in a very embarrassing position, because his sovereign did not order him how to proceed with regard to the Duke of Gloucester's death. The fact is William was in a fit of temper, possibly caused by the sad event, and so cared not how he perplexed others. Besides, although he had loved the dead boy, he despised the parents, and paid no more respect to their feelings than if they had lost a favorite dog. At last, after the expiration of two months, he ordered a fortnight's mourning, which was very little. Three months after the death of the little duke, King William condescended to write, not to the afflicted parents, but to Lord Marlborough, and this is a copy of the remarkable missive:—
"I do not think it necessary to employ many words in expressing my surprise and grief at the death of the Duke of Gloucester. It is so great a loss to me, as well as to all England, that it pierces my heart with affliction."
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The same post carried a peremptory order that all the salaries of the duke's servants should be cut off from the day of his death.
A.D. 1701. Thus we see that the king's heart was not so pierced with affliction as to prevent his having an eye to economy. It was even suspected that it was the approach of pay-day that prompted him to write at all; but the Princess Anne was so shocked at the king's meanness that she resolved to pay the salaries of her dead boy's servants out of her own purse rather than send them off at a moment's notice. She returned to St. James's Palace towards the end of the year, bowed down with desolation and sorrow.
The death of the Duke of Gloucester was not much lamented in the political world, for his existence had been rather an obstacle to the designs of the various parties; but to his mother, aside from her deep sorrow, it proved an event of the utmost importance; for even in her own household her position was altered, and she was not treated with the same deference as before.
Lady Marlborough was the first person by whom the change was made apparent, though she of all others had most reason to be grateful to Princess Anne. She had gone with her husband to Althorpe, just a short time before the little duke's death, to further a scheme that they had made between them. King William's health was so poor that they had reason to believe it would not be long before Anne would replace him on the throne. When that should occur, it was argued that she would be assisted in the government by certain statesmen, who would shrink from any cooperation with them, so they planned a strong family alliance that would greatly strengthen their influence. They were aided by the sly politician, Sunderland, and by Lord Godolphin, whose only son had, during the previous year, married their eldest daughter. When this marriage took place Princess Anne presented the bride with five thousand pounds, and gave a similar sum to Lady Marlborough's younger daughter, Anne Churchill, when she married Sunderland's son.
These two marriages formed the principal features in the Marlborough scheme for their own advancement when the proper time should come. For the purpose of doing away with formality when writing to her favorite, it had been early agreed that the princess should merely be addressed as Mrs. Morley, and Lady Marlborough as Mrs. Freeman, which brought them to the same level. Since her bereavement Princess Anne had become more humble, and Lady Marlborough more imperious. When the latter was absent she received three or four notes a day, some of which were signed "your poor, unfortunate, faithful Morley." But the indulgence and kindness of the princess had only spoiled the woman, who was so puffed up by prosperity as to render herself positively ridiculous. She even went so far as to avert her face and turn up her nose when she had any slight office to perform for her benefactress, as though there was something about her person that produced disgust. In course of time the princess began to notice what others had seen for a long while; but accident revealed to her one day the extent to which the ungrateful creature could go with her insults.
One afternoon when Princess Anne was at her toilet, she requested Abigail Hill to fetch her a pair of gloves from the table in the adjoining room. Miss Hill passed into the room designated, leaving the door open behind her. There sat Lady Marlborough reading a letter. Miss Hill soon discovered that she had, by mistake, put on her royal highness' gloves, and gently called her attention to the fact. "My goodness!" exclaimed Lady Marlborough, "have I on anything that has touched the odious hands of that disagreeable woman? Take them away quickly," and she pulled off the gloves, which she threw violently to the ground. Miss Hill picked them up without a word, and left the room closing the door behind her. Lady Marlborough thus remained in ignorance that her disgraceful speech had been overheard; but Abigail Hill saw plainly that not a word of it had been lost on the princess, who never forgot or forgave the disgust manifested by the woman on whom she had lavished affection and favors. Fortunately, the princess had no other attendant besides the one she had despatched for the gloves, so the incident remained a secret for the time being. Lady Marlborough was made to feel on several occasions that she had seriously offended the princess, but was at a loss to know how or when. She could not ready have felt the disgust she expressed, because Princess Anne was renowned all over Europe for the beauty and delicacy of her hands and arms; but perhaps it was envy.
Princess Anne had not taken off mourning for her son when news arrived of the death of her father. This event did not cause her a great deal of sorrow, nor did she think fit to take the slightest notice of the request he made in his farewell letter to her, that when William should die she would make way for her brother on the throne.
King William was at Loo, in Holland, when James II.'s message of forgiveness was delivered to him, and he was so impressed by it that he sat in moody silence the entire day. That was his way of showing that he was painfully affected; but it did not remove the ill-feeling he felt towards the dead king for refusing to permit him to adopt his son,—a request he had made after the death of the Duke of Gloucester. Neither did it prevent his issuing a bill accusing the young Prince of Wales, a boy of twelve, of high treason. But he put on mourning for his uncle, and ordered his footmen and coaches to appear in black. All the nobles and the court of England imitated him, and mourning became the fashion.
His majesty returned to England, as usual, in the autumn, and left the Earl of Marlborough in command of his military forces in Holland, feeling certain, as he said, that the talents of that general would enable him to continue in his stead should his death occur. And it did not seem far off, for William had been seriously ill, the effects of which had so reduced his already enfeebled frame that all who saw him knew he was not long for this world. Nevertheless, he busied himself with preparations for involving England in a war with France, the object being to divide Spain into three parts, to be claimed by Austria, Holland, and England. This was to prevent Louis XIV. from becoming too powerful by his influence over his grandson, who was heir to the Spanish throne.
It was no other than John Fenwick's sorrel pony that brought William's warlike projects to a close. And this is how he did it: His majesty was fond of the pretty animal, and rode on him daily while superintending the excavation of a canal in Hampden Court grounds. It was on the twenty-first of January that he was riding about as usual, when suddenly the pony stuck one foot in a mole hill and fell, throwing his majesty over on his right shoulder, and breaking his collar bone. Some workmen assisted him to rise, and carried him to the palace, where the broken bone was soon set. The accident might not have proved serious had not William, with his usual obstinacy, insisted on driving to Kensington that night. The jolting of the carriage displaced the fractured bone, and he arrived in a state of exhaustion and suffering. The opera-
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tion had to be repeated, but it was several days before the patient could move. Even then his mind was filled with revenge, for he sent a message to parliament urging them to lose no time in passing the charge of high treason against little James Stuart, that had been under consideration since the preceding January. The very last act of this mighty monarch was the signing of this bill, to which he affixed his stamp a few hours before his death.
On the first of March the royal sufferer was seized with cramps, but improved sufficiently to be able to walk in the gallery of Kensington Palace a few days later. Feeling fatigued from the exercise, he threw himself on a lounge and fell asleep in front of an open window. Two hours later he awoke with a chill, the precursor of death. Both the Prince and Princess of Denmark made repeated efforts to see the dying king, but to the very end he framed his lips into an emphatic "no!" every time the request was made. No one was admitted to the sick-room besides physicians and nurses, excepting the old favorites Bentinck, and Keppel, Earl of Albemarle. The latter arrived from a mission to Holland just before the king lost his speech, and gave his royal master information of the progress of his preparations for the commencement of war in the Low Countries. For the first time the dying warrior listened to such details with cold indifference, and at their close merely said: "I draw towards my end." Then handing Keppel the keys of his writing-desk, he bade that favorite take possession of the twenty thousand guineas it contained, and directed him to destroy all the letters enclosed in a certain cabinet.
The next morning, when Bentinck entered the room, the king was speechless but conscious. He took his old friend's hand and pressed it to his heart for several minutes, and then expired. After his death a bracelet of Queen Mary's hair, tied with black ribbon, was found on his left arm.
William III. was fifty-one years old, and had reigned thirteen years.