The account of the previous evening was known all over the town early next day. A violent altercation had taken place before the queen in the Council-chamber; and all the coffee-houses had their version of the quarrel. The news brought my lord bishop early to Kensington Square, where he awaited the waking of his royal master above stairs, and spoke confidently of having him proclaimed as Prince of Wales and heir to the throne before that day was over. The bishop had entertained on the previous afternoon certain of the most influential gentlemen of the true British party. His royal highness had charmed all, both Scots and English, Papists and Churchmen: “Even Quakers,” says he, “were at our meeting; and, if the stranger took a little too much British punch and ale, he will soon grow more accustomed to those liquors; and my Lord Castlewood,” says the bishop, with a laugh, “must bear the cruel charge of having been for once in his life a little tipsy. He toasted your lovely sister a dozen times, at which we all laughed,” says the bishop, “admiring so much fraternal affection.—Where is that charming nymph, and why doth she not adorn your ladyship's tea-table with her bright eyes?” [pg 438] Her ladyship said, drily, that Beatrix was not at home that morning; my lord bishop was too busy with great affairs to trouble himself much about the presence or absence of any lady, however beautiful.

We were yet at table when Dr. A—— came from the Palace with a look of great alarm; the shocks the queen had had the day before had acted on her severely; he had been sent for, and had ordered her to be blooded. The surgeon of Long Acre had come to cup the queen, and her Majesty was now more easy and breathed more freely. What made us start at the name of Mr. Aymé? “Il faut être aimable pour être aimé,” says the merry doctor; Esmond pulled his sleeve, and bade him hush. It was to Aymé's house, after his fatal duel, that my dear Lord Castlewood, Frank's father, had been carried to die.

No second visit could be paid to the queen on that day at any rate; and when our guest above gave his signal that he was awake, the doctor, the bishop, and Colonel Esmond waited upon the prince's levee, and brought him their news, cheerful or dubious. The doctor had to go away presently, but promised to keep the prince constantly acquainted with what was taking place at the palace hard by. His counsel was, and the bishop's, that as soon as ever the queen's malady took a favourable turn, the prince should be introduced to her bedside; the Council summoned; the guard at Kensington and St. James's, of which two regiments were to be entirely relied on, and one known not to be hostile, would declare for the prince, as the queen would before the lords of her Council, designating him as the heir to her throne.

With locked doors, and Colonel Esmond acting as secretary, the prince and his lordship of Rochester passed many hours of this day composing Proclamations and Addresses to the Country, to the Scots, to the Clergy, to the People of London and England; announcing the arrival of the exile descendant of three sovereigns, and his acknowledgement by his sister as heir to the throne. Every safeguard for their liberties the Church and People could ask was promised to them. The bishop could answer for the adhesion of very many prelates, who besought of their flocks and brother ecclesiastics to recognize the sacred right of the future sovereign, and to purge the country of the sin of rebellion.

During the composition of these papers, more messengers than one came from the Palace regarding the state of the august patient there lying. At midday she was somewhat better; at evening the torpor again seized her, and she wandered in her mind. At night Dr. A—— was with us again, with a report rather more favourable: no instant danger at any rate was apprehended. In the course of the last two years her Majesty had had many attacks similar, but more severe.

By this time we had finished a half-dozen of Proclamations (the wording of them so as to offend no parties, and not to give umbrage to Whigs or Dissenters, required very great caution), and the young prince, who had indeed shown, during a long day's labour, both alacrity at seizing the information given him, and ingenuity and skill in turning the phrases which were to go out signed by his name, here exhibited a good humour and thoughtfulness that ought to be set down to his credit.

“Were these papers to be mislaid,” says he, “or our scheme to come to mishap, my Lord Esmond's writing would bring him to a place where I heartily hope never to see him; and so, by your leave, I will copy the papers myself, though I am not very strong in spelling; and if they are found they will implicate none but the person they most concern;” and so, having carefully copied the Proclamations out, the prince burned those in Colonel Esmond's handwriting: “And now, and now, gentlemen,” says he, “let us go to supper, and drink a glass with the ladies. My Lord Esmond, you will sup with us to-night; you have given us of late too little of your company.”

The prince's meals were commonly served in the chamber which had been Beatrix's bedroom, adjoining that in which he slept. And the dutiful practice of his entertainers was to wait until their royal guest bade them take their places at table before they sat down to partake of the meal. On this night, as you may suppose, only Frank Castlewood and his mother were in waiting when the supper was announced to receive the prince; who had passed the whole of the day in his own apartment, with the bishop as his minister of state, and Colonel Esmond officiating as secretary of his Council.

The prince's countenance wore an expression by no means pleasant; when looking towards the little company [pg 440] assembled, and waiting for him, he did not see Beatrix's bright face there as usual to greet him. He asked Lady Esmond for his fair introducer of yesterday: her ladyship only cast her eyes down, and said quietly, Beatrix could not be of the supper that night; nor did she show the least sign of confusion, whereas Castlewood turned red, and Esmond was no less embarrassed. I think women have an instinct of dissimulation; they know by nature how to disguise their emotions far better than the most consummate male courtiers can do. Is not the better part of the life of many of them spent in hiding their feelings, in cajoling their tyrants, in masking over with fond smiles and artful gaiety their doubt, or their grief, or their terror?

Our guest swallowed his supper very sulky; it was not till the second bottle his highness began to rally. When Lady Castlewood asked leave to depart, he sent a message to Beatrix, hoping she would be present at the next day's dinner, and applied himself to drink, and to talk afterwards, for which there was subject in plenty.