The Duchess of Marlborough, indeed, intimates that whenever her Majesty made the young Prince any present of “rattles” or other playthings, “she took especial care to have her attention inserted in the Gazette. Whenever the Duke was ill, she sent a bedchamber woman to Camden-house, to inquire how he did. But this compliment was made in so offensive a manner to the Princess, that I have often wondered how any mortal could hear it with patience. For whoever was sent, used to come without any ceremony into the room where the Princess was, and passing by her, as she stood or sat, without taking more notice of her than if she had been a rocker, go directly up to the Duke, and make their speech to him, or to the nurse, as he lay in her lap.”[[284]]
The Princess, however, happy in her favourite circle, seems to have received these indignities with her wonted apathy, whilst she testified her affection for Lord and Lady Marlborough by the offer of a pension of a thousand pounds a year, creating a new place in her household as an excuse for that granted annuity to one whom she considered as a victim in her cause. But Marlborough, though his income was materially reduced by the loss of his lucrative employments, respectfully declined the generosity of his kind patroness.[[285]]
These bickerings between the Queen and the Princess were soon, however, painfully and effectually terminated. The small-pox at that time raged fearfully in London. Thousands died of the disease, and apprehensions were entertained for the safety of the Queen, who had never had the cruel distemper. Mary had a short time previously been much concerned at the sudden decease of Archbishop Tillotson, who was struck with palsy whilst performing service in Whitehall Chapel. She had spoken of this revered prelate with tears, and her mind had been considerably disturbed at the loss of so valuable a friend. Whilst still grieving for this event, she fell ill; but her natural spirits sustained her. The disease seemed to subside; and to Bishop Burnet, who was with her for an hour on the day of the attack, she complained of nothing. On the following morning she went out; but returned oppressed with the cruel malady to her closet. There she shut herself up, burnt many of her papers, and put the rest in order. Nevertheless, thinking it might be only a transient indisposition, she used some slight remedies: these were ineffectual to relieve her, and in two days the small-pox appeared in its most malignant form.[[286]]
The Princess Anne was at this time indisposed, and remaining, by her physician’s advice, upon one floor, lying constantly on a couch. Yet, upon hearing of the Queen’s illness, she sent a lady of the bedchamber with a message of kindness and respect, begging that her Majesty would allow her the happiness of waiting on her, and declaring that she would run any risk in her present situation to have that satisfaction. To this message, which was delivered to the Queen herself, a reply was returned, in the King’s name, that the Queen would send an answer on the following day. Accordingly a letter arrived, announcing that, since the Queen was ordered to be kept as quiet as possible, the writer, Lady Derby,[[287]] was ordered by the King to request that the Princess would defer her visit.
The construction which Lady Marlborough put upon this “civil answer was, that poor Queen Mary’s disease was mortal, more than even if the physicians had told her that it was;” yet she added also the uncharitable interpretation, “that the deferring the Princess’s coming was only to leave room for continuing the quarrel, in case the Queen should chance to recover, or for reconciliation with the King (if that should be thought convenient) in case of the Queen’s death.”[[288]]
Be that as it may, the two sisters never met again. The King, overwhelmed by a knowledge of the Queen’s danger, seems to have been occupied with far different thoughts than those imputed to him by the Duchess, and probably consulted only the Queen’s well-doing, when he prohibited a harassing interview between her and the Princess, which might have hastened the approaching event. On the third day of Mary’s illness, the stern, reserved monarch was completely bowed down by the intelligence that the medical advice called to supersede the erroneous treatment of Dr. Ratcliffe, was resorted to too late. He called Dr. Burnet into his closet, and with a burst of anguish exclaimed, that there was “No hope of the Queen; that, from being the happiest, he was now going to be the most miserable creature upon earth.” The Queen bore the awful consciousness of approaching death with far more composure than he, for whom she had sacrificed every other tie, could assume. When apprised by Archbishop Tenison that all hope of her recovery was at an end, she quickly comprehended the reverend prelate’s intention, for which he sought to prepare her by degrees. She evinced no agitation. She said, she thanked God that she had always resolved that nothing should be left to the last hour; she had then nothing to do, but to look up to God, and submit to his will. Indeed, as one who loved this virtuous Princess observes, “her piety went farther than submission, for she seemed to desire death rather than life.”[[289]]
Whilst this solemn scene was passing at Kensington, the Princess sent every day to inquire after the state of the Queen, but received no encouragement to urge her desire of an interview. On one occasion, the Lady Fitzharding, who had the charge of the Duke of Gloucester, broke into the room where the dying Mary lay, and declaring the Princess’s message to her, endeavoured to impress her Majesty with a sense of her sister’s distress. The Queen, according to the Duchess of Marlborough, returned no answer but “a cold thanks.”[[290]] Nor did she ever, in the course of her illness, send any message whatsoever to the sister from whom she was estranged. In extenuation of this seeming inconsistency in one so devout, it must be stated, that she had so far adopted the stoical notions of her husband, as to preclude him and herself from the trial of a last farewell. After causing to be delivered to him a small casket, in which she had formerly written her sentiments, she devoted her time to prayer. The Archbishop of Canterbury administering, and all the bishops standing round, Mary received the Holy Communion—that solemn service, in which, even in the fulness of health, we cannot participate without an awful consciousness of the immediate presence of our Maker. Faint but calm, the dying Queen followed the whole office; and, when that was concluded, she composed herself to meet her God. She slumbered sometimes, but she was not refreshed; for, “like others who labour and are heavy laden,” nothing refreshed her but prayer. At last her strong reason began to be obscured, her speech to falter; she tried in vain to say something to the King; she endeavoured to join in the holy offices of the archbishops. Cordials were given her; but all was ineffectual; and she sank about one o’clock in the morning of the twenty-eighth of December, her disorder having first displayed fatal symptoms on Christmas Day.[[291]]
In this beautiful picture of an exemplary deathbed, but two objects are wanting: a father reconciled, a sister restored to affection. But the father, who regretted more that his daughter died unforgiven by him, and undutiful, than her death itself, was at a distance; his pardon and his blessing could not have been obtained. The sister prayed for admission, and was refused. Such is the effect of party violence, which ruled even in the breast of the pious, affectionate, and strong-minded Mary! If it be said, “how hardly shall a rich man enter the kingdom of heaven,” it may also be a matter of consideration how difficult it must prove for the soul, torn by the strong contending passions which darken a political career, to enter into that blessed rest, where selfishness and ambition can find no mansion!
The Princess Anne, unchecked by indifference to her amiable advances, by the advice of Lord Sunderland and others, wrote to the King, shortly after the Queen’s death, a letter expressive of her “sincere and hearty sorrow for his affliction,” and declaring herself “as sensibly touched by his misfortune,” as if she had not been so unhappy as to fall under her sister’s displeasure. Her letter found the King too dejected, and too much humbled by his calamity, to think of refusing her petition. During the Queen’s illness, his anguish had broken out into violent lamentations; after her death his spirits sank so low, that many persons feared that he was following her. In this depression of spirits and strength, he betook himself to those aids of religion which, with a due seriousness, and a respect for sacred subjects, he had never, during his busy intercourse with the great world, resorted to with heartfelt earnestness, as the only solace, the only cure for bereavements which leave us heart-broken, dependent, and wretched beings.
Whilst William was in this state of mind, the great and good Lord Somers, who had long lamented the feuds which disturbed the royal family, visited him at Kensington, for the purpose of interceding with a view to reconciling these differences. He found the King sitting at the end of his closet in an agony of grief, little to be expected from one who rarely betrayed the passions by which his spirits were now overwhelmed. The King, lost in his own bitter reflections, paid no attention to the entrance of Lord Somers, until that nobleman, remarkable for his courtesy and prudence,[[292]] broke the silence by expressing a hope that now all disunion between his Majesty and the Princess Anne might cease. “My lord, do what you will; I can think of no business,” was the agonised reply of the King; and to all the observations which Somers made, he returned no other answer.[[293]] The Duchess of Marlborough, however, imputes the reconciliation to Lord Sunderland, who had, on all occasions, as she says, shown himself to be a man of sense and breeding, and had used his utmost endeavours, before the Queen’s death, to make up the breach between the two sisters, though, she thinks, he never could have succeeded during the lifetime of Mary. Although the reconciliation was opposed by the Earl of Portland, yet the quarrel was at last adjusted; and Anne visited the King, who received her with cordiality, and promised her that St. James’s palace should in future be her residence.[[294]]