He was even scheming to make the Court popular; the attitude of the people towards his hero considerably annoyed him.
It was undeniable that the irreproachable example of the Court awoke in the English more ridicule than respect or admiration; they regarded with a sneer the sincere efforts of the gentle young Queen to elevate and dignify her position, to improve the tone of a corrupt society. The industrious simplicity of the King, his dislike of blasphemy, evil-speaking, and frivolous amusements, his private tolerance, justice, and modesty were as so many causes of offence to a people regretting former princes so much more suited to their temper. They missed the pageant that had continually entertained them at Whitehall, the money that had been squandered by the Court in a manner so pleasing to the national extravagance, the continual spectacle of the King in the obvious exercise of gracious royalty, even the gay ladies whose histories had diverted a generation. This humour provoked cynical smiles from William and distressed comment from Mary. Sunderland resolved to alter it; he saw the truth; he knew that nothing but genius in the man every one combined to disparage could have kept the nation together, and nothing but the greatest courage and strength on the part of the woman they affected to dismiss as a cipher could have maintained a government during the Irish war.
Sunderland largely blamed the ministers. Halifax had failed, Caermarthen (now Leeds) was failing, the others had never been really trusted by the King, who relied mainly on secret advisers, such as Carstairs, Temple, his Dutch friends, and lately Sunderland himself.
My lord knew that he could do better than any of these; he had the great advantage of understanding the King; he even believed that he could make him again as beloved in England as he had been in '88.
William was no boor, but of noble blood thrice refined; his passionate nature and the constant control he had put it under made him break out fiercely sometimes against the foolish and the vexatious; he never flattered, and he took no trouble to please women. Natural modesty and the languor of ill-health made him refuse to concede to the national love of display; but he was beloved abroad, and Sunderland believed he could be beloved in England. My lord resolved to persuade him to go to Newmarket this year; he flattered himself that he had a considerable influence over William.
He became impatient for the King to return; he went to the window and looked at the surging crowd beyond the courtyard waiting for a sight of the Royal coach. It was not likely to be greeted very warmly, for the King was, a second time, going to veto the Triennial Bill, a great popular measure which, from the first, he had set his face against.
Sunderland upheld him; to consent to the Bill would be an enormous concession to the people, and my lord had no love for the democracy, but, like William, had a high ideal of the rights of the Crown. He took pleasure now in thinking of the King's firm stand and the disappointment of this crowd when the news of the vetoed Bill was flashed from mouth to mouth.
As he watched, standing within the silver-corded curtains, a party of halberdiers suddenly scattered the people to right and left, a company of soldiers drove up, and then the Royal coach came, unusually fast, swinging on its leathers.
A deep hum rose from the crowd; some broke into cheering, hats were thrown up, and handkerchiefs waved. Sunderland had never seen the King receive such a cordial reception.
He withdrew from the window, surprised, a little puzzled.