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AGNES STRICKLAND'S QUEENS OF ENGLAND

Abridged

By Rosalie Kaufman

Vol. II. (of III)

Fully Illustrated

Boston

Estes & Lauriat

1882




PREFACE.

|Up to Queen Anne, this work is based upon Agnes Strickland's "Queens
of England;" but subsequent to that period many authorities have been
consulted, and only such matter used as would seem appropriate. My first
care was to prepare a narrative which should interest young people, but
I have endeavored also to produce a result that would prove a source,
not only of pleasure, but of profit. The limits of the design make it
evident that some eminent names and noteworthy events could receive
slight mention, or none at all, and that politics could be introduced
only when requisite for the comprehension of events that depended on
them. It will be a satisfaction to hope that my readers may be prompted
to independent inquiry.

R. K.




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.


Park at Stowe............................................Frontispiece

Mary, First Queen-Regnant of England..............................014

Edward VI.........................................................025

Mary refuses to give up Mass......................................028

Lady Jane Grey....................................................033

Queen Mary plights her troth to Philip............................049

Death of Latimer and Ridley.......................................053

Queen Elizabeth...................................................057

Cranmer...........................................................059

London Street--Rainy Day in time of Elizabeth.....................065

Old Palace at Hatfield............................................070

St. James Park....................................................079

Mary Stuart.......................................................087

Sir Walter Raleigh................................................095

Mary's Chamber....................................................098

Destruction of the Armada.........................................103

Elizabeth boxing Essex on the Ear.................................107

Anne of Denmark...................................................111

Door to Holy rood.................................................115

Castle of Edinburgh...............................................123

The Piscina.......................................................131

Drawing-room at Winchester........................................136

Execution of Sir Walter Raleigh...................................141

Henrietta Maria...................................................145

Chateau Fontainebleau.............................................149

The Plague........................................................133

Maple-Durham Church and Mill......................................163

Catharine of Braganza.............................................179

Cathedral of Guimaraes............................................187

Queen's Bed.......................................................199

The Oratory.......................................................207

King's Apartment..................................................209

Great Fire in London..............................................215

Charles II........................................................221

Chapel in the Tower...............................................227

The Queen's Bower.................................................230

View of Oporto....................................................233

Mary Beatrice.....................................................239

Grande Monarque...................................................247

Versailles........................................................231

The Hotel de Ville................................................259

Holyrood..........................................................267

James II..........................................................273

Duke of Monmouth..................................................281

St. Germain.......................................................297

James at the Battle of the Boyne..................................303

Queen's Drawing-room..............................................308

Louis XIV. in Old Age.............................................319

Mary..........................................................

William and Mary..................................................341

Scene in Holland..................................................347

Monument of William at the Hague..................................351

The Retreat.......................................................358

Entrance of William into London...................................369

Bentinck, Earl of Portland........................................380

Gardens of William III............................................382

Duke and Duchess of Marlborough...................................391

Anne of England...................................................401

Kensington Palace.................................................405

Hunting Lodge.....................................................414

Chapel of Henry VII...............................................427

William Thrown from his Horse.....................................433

The Avon at Bristol...............................................445

Windsor Forest....................................................470

Anger of the Duchess of Marlborough...............................481

Shrewsbury receiving the White Rod................................495

STORIES OF THE LIVES OF THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND

Compiled From Agnes Strickland, For Young People

By Rosalie Kaufman

{014}

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{015}




THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND.




CHAPTER I. MARY, FIRST QUEEN-REGNANT OF ENGLAND AND IRELAND.

(A.D. 1516-1558).

|Mary was the only child of Henry VIII. and Katherine of Arragon who
lived to maturity. She was born at Greenwich Palace in 1516, and
was placed under the care of her mother's beloved friend, Margaret
Plantagenet, Countess of Salisbury.

[[A.D. 1516.]] She was baptized the third day after her birth, and named
for the king's favorite sister.

Mary's mother began her education as soon as she could speak, and when
she was only three years old she sat up in state to receive some
foreign visitors, and amused them by playing on the virginals, a musical
instrument similar to a piano. It was in a box about four feet long,
with an ivory key-board of two or three octaves, and was placed on a
table when played upon.

At that time Mary was a bright, merry child, with rosy complexion and
brown eyes, and such a pet with her parents that she remained with them
at Greenwich until after her fourth birthday.

[[A.D. 1522.]] While Mary was yet in her cradle a marriage was spoken
of for her with Francis I., but her mother {016}was anxious to see her
united to her own nephew, the Emperor Charles V., who paid a visit to
the English court when he was about twenty-three years old. He was there
nearly five weeks, during which the little princess became very fond of
him, and, young as she was, learned to consider herself his empress.

He signed a solemn treaty at Windsor to marry her when she was twelve
years old, but was desirous that she should be sent to Spain for her
education. Her parents would not consent to the separation, but engaged
the best instructors for her, and had a plan of study drawn up by a
Spaniard of deep learning. His rules were rigid; he required the young
princess to read religious works night and morning, to translate
English into Latin frequently, and to converse in that language with
her teacher. He implored her never to read books of chivalry or romance,
condemned a long list of light works as injurious to morals, and
recommended instead Plato, Cicero, Seneca's Maxims, Plutarch, the works
of Erasmus, Sir Thomas More's "Utopia," some of the classic poets, and
the tragedies of Seneca. He deemed card-playing and fine dressing as
injurious as romances, and gave rules for the pronunciation of Greek and
Latin, requiring that lessons in those languages should be committed to
memory every day, and read over two or three times before the pupil went
to bed.

No wonder the poor child's health and spirits suffered, for she was only
six years old when this system of education was enforced.

The Emperor Charles still continued to desire her to spend part of
her time in Spain, but Henry VIII. promised instead that she should
be brought up in England like a Spanish lady, and should even wear the
national dress of that country. He added, that nobody in all Christendom
{017}could be found to bring her up according to the customs of Spain
better than her mother, who came of a noble house of that country, and,
besides, that the princess was too young to undertake the voyage.

[[A.D. 1525.]] During the summer of 1525 a rumor reached England that
Charles V. had engaged himself to Isabel of Portugal. This was little
Mary's first sorrow, for her maids had persuaded her that she was really
in love. But Charles had heard of the king's intention to divorce
his wife and disinherit his daughter, and was excessively angry; in
consequence, he thought best to revenge himself on Mary. He wrote a
letter filled with reproaches to Henry, and married Isabel before the
end of the year.

Then Mary, though only nine years of age, was established in a court of
her own at Ludlow Castle, in Wales. She had not been called Princess of
Wales, but received the same honors as though she had.

The Welsh were pleased to have the royal family represented in their
country, and the officers and nobles of Mary's court superintended the
newly-formed legislature.

Sir John Dudley, afterwards Earl of Warwick, was her chamberlain, and
the Countess of Salisbury resided with her, as she had done from her
birth, as head of her establishment. There were, besides, thirteen
ladies of honor, and a large number of other officers.

Few children are so lovely, bright, and well-behaved as Mary was at that
time, when she had her first lessons in playing the part of queen, which
she was so soon to unlearn. Probably Henry placed her in the position
of heir-apparent of England, hoping that she would make a grand match
before he disinherited her, otherwise there could be no reason for
it, considering the poverty and contempt she suffered later. {018}Her
education went on steadily during the eighteen months she spent at
Ludlow, and great care was taken of her exercise, diet, dress, and
everything pertaining to her health and morals.

Her father made a desperate attempt to marry her to Francis I., but he
was engaged to the widow of the King of Portugal, besides he was by no
means anxious to marry a girl eleven years of age.

Spite of the methodical course of Mary's education she took part in the
revelry at her father's court when she was not more than eleven years
old, and danced a ballet with seven other ladies and eight lords. She
also performed in one of Terence's comedies in the original Latin for
the entertainment of the French ambassadors when they were at Hampton
Court.

[[A.D. 1529.]] Her misfortunes dated from that period, for it was then
that her mother's divorce began to be publicly discussed.

Katherine was anxious to marry her daughter to Reginald Pole, son of the
Countess of Salisbury, but he had no desire to connect himself with the
English court, though he was always fond of Mary, and gave as excuse
that he had been educated for the church, though he never became either
a priest or a monk. He did not hesitate to express to the king his
entire disapproval of the pending divorce, and thus incurred the royal
displeasure to such a degree that he was obliged to leave England.

For a long time Mary had been her mother's daily companion, but when
she was about fifteen years of age she was separated from her, never to
behold her again. This was such a source of grief to the young girl that
she became seriously ill on account of it. Katherine wrote her daughter
loving letters, and tried to console her for the loss of her instruction
in Latin by assuring her that Dr. {019}Fetherstone was a much better
teacher, but she never complained of the cause of their separation in
any of her correspondence.

[[A.D. 1532.]] It was not until after the birth of Elizabeth that the
king disinherited his daughter Mary, and declared her half-sister his
heiress. Then orders were sent to her to lay aside the name and dignity
of princess and remove to Hatfield, where the nursery of her infant
sister was about to be established.

Mary was but seventeen at this time, but she showed a good deal of
courage, when she told the messenger that she should not take the
slightest notice of the order unless it were delivered to her in the
king's own hand and bore his signature.

Then she wrote a private letter to her father, asking him whether he
really meant to deprive her of her title. He did not condescend to
reply, but a couple of months later her household, consisting of no less
than three hundred and sixty persons, was suddenly broken up, and the
poor girl was separated from the Countess of Salisbury and others, to
whose society she had been accustomed during her whole life.

This was a blow far more bitter than being deprived of her title.
Another trial it was to find herself no more than a dependent in her
sister's household, which was fitted up with the magnificence she
herself had just been robbed of. The comparison that she was daily
forced to draw between the position of her infant sister and her own was
enough to make her hate the child, but, strange to say, her affection
for it was strong; and good Margaret Bryan, who had been her nurse, and
was now performing the same service for Elizabeth, did all in her power
to soothe the mind of her former charge, and encourage kindly feelings
for her little sister. {020}Mary spent two years of sorrow and suffering
at Hatfield Castle, where her stepmother treated her with extreme
unkindness, and during that time several persons were sent to the
Tower for calling her "Princess." This no doubt added greatly to her
unhappiness. Besides, she was closely watched, and although allowed
to read and study, writing was forbidden until after the death of Anne
Boleyn, when in one of her letters she apologized for her bad penmanship
on the ground that she had had no practice for two years.

[[A.D. 1535.]] Her position was so dreadful that most people pitied her,
and the king was heard to mutter such harsh threats against her that it
would not have occasioned much surprise if her head had been brought to
the block. Her dying mother begged that she might have the satisfaction
of knowing that Mary was near her, even though she were not permitted to
see her, but the tyrant Henry refused, though the poor girl's health was
suffering for want of her mother's tender care and affection. Even the
sad satisfaction of a last farewell between the dying queen and her only
child was forbidden, and Katherine of Arragon departed from this world
without laying eyes on her daughter.

Mary wrote her father a congratulatory letter when he married Jane
Seymour, but he took no notice of it, nor addressed her in any way
until she was requested through his privy councillor to sign a paper
renouncing all right to the throne. She could not have been induced to
do this while her mother lived, but she was so broken down from sorrow
and ill health that she no longer had the power to resist.

Then she was settled again in a household, with her little sister, at
Hunsdon, which, though comfortable and peaceful, was poor and humble
compared with what she had {021}enjoyed at Ludlow Castle. Mary was her
own mistress there for three years, and spent most of the time in
study, dividing off her day as she had been taught to do when under her
mother's care. She studied astronomy, geography, natural philosophy, and
mathematics, as well as Latin and Greek authors; read the church service
daily with her chaplain, did a good deal of needle-work, and practised
on three musical instruments. Latin was the universal language, so
she spoke it with ease, and could read and write French, Spanish, and
Italian besides.

[[A.D. 1537.]] She was not admitted to her father's presence until 1537,
when, strange to say, although her tastes were refined, and her life
a busy one, her journal contained items of high play at cards, and a
fondness for betting and gambling, which was one of the vices of Henry's
court, he himself being one of the greatest gamblers that ever wore a
crown.

[[A.D. 1538]] The year 1538 was filled with horrors on account of the
serious insurrections of the Catholics, who in every case of disturbance
demanded that the Princess Mary should be restored to her royal rank.
This certainly placed her in a dangerous position, and it is rather
surprising that she did not have her head chopped off in consequence,
for the most dreadful executions took place; people were burnt alive or
butchered in cold blood, and members of some of the noblest families in
England perished on the scaffold.

The aged Countess of Salisbury, Mary's beloved friend, was locked up
in the Tower, and all her property taken from her. She was not spared
sufficient means to purchase warm clothing to shelter her infirm limbs,
and the Marchioness of Exeter, with her little son, shared the same
fate, though the boy was too young to have committed any offence.
{022}The chief crime of these ladies was their friendship for Reginald
Pole, who was accused of supporting the claims of Katherine of Arragon,
Mary's mother. The existence of the young princess was rendered
miserable by the wretched fate of those she loved, yet she was powerless
to render them the slightest assistance.

Towards the close of the following year, Wriothesley, the
privy-councillor, was sent to inform her that her father desired her to
receive Duke Philip of Bavaria as a suitor. But Mary declined because
she did not desire to marry at all, and would on no account ally herself
to a Protestant.

[[A.D. 1539.]] The day after Anne of Cleves made her public entry into
England, Henry appointed Philip Knight of the Garter on account of his
defence of Vienna against the Turks, and he was the first Protestant
who ever received that honor. Before he returned to Germany he presented
Mary with a diamond cross, and expressed his intention of coming to
claim her as his bride. She was spared the hardship of a struggle in
opposing him because Henry's ill treatment of Anne of Cleves prevented
the return of the brave German, who lived and died a bachelor.

[[A.D. 1540.]] In 1540 Mary was very ill at her brother's residence; the
cause of it was probably the dreadful events that took place in England
during that and the following year; for it was then that all her early
friends, including Dr. Fetherstone and the Countess of Salisbury, were
so shamefully butchered. It must be remembered that these were people
whose lives were in every respect honorable and virtuous, but they were
firmly attached to Queen Katherine and opposed to Henry in religious
matters, and that was the head and front of their offending.

[[A.D. 1543.]] In 1543 Mary was present at the marriage of her father
with Katherine Parr, and accompanied the royal couple when they made
their summer trip through {023}several counties in England. But she
was seized with an attack of her former illness, when she was sent to
Ashbridge, where, with her brother and sister, she spent the autumn.
While there she worked a chain as a New-year's gift for her father, and
it had to be so large for that corpulent personage that the materials
for it cost twenty pounds.

By the close of the year a delightful change took place in her life; she
was restored to her rightful succession after Edward VI. by an act of
parliament, and took up her residence at court.

[[A.D. 1547.]] Having made friends with her father once more, she
continued in favor till the end of his life, and when he was dying
he said to her: "I know well, my daughter, that fortune has been most
adverse to you, that I have caused you infinite sorrow, and that I
have not given you in marriage as I intended to do; this was, however,
according to the will of God, or to the unhappy state of my affairs, or
to your own ill-luck; but I pray you to take it all in good part, and
promise me to be a kind and loving mother to your brother, whom I shall
leave a little helpless child."

In his will he bequeathed to her the sum of ten thousand pounds towards
her marriage portion, and an income of three thousand pounds a year so
long as she remained unmarried.

He requested that his son should be brought up in the Catholic faith,
which was a serious impediment to the Protestant church in England, and
proved the cause of a great deal of strife among his subjects.

Before parliament met, after King Henry's death, the Protestant
protector, Somerset, had, with Cranmer's assistance, taken decided steps
for the establishment of the Reformed faith, and Bishop Gardiner was
locked up in the Fleet Prison. {024}Mary was very anxious that her
brother should be brought up a Catholic, and had a long controversy in
writing with Somerset on that subject. It seems strange that her pen
should have done any work for the Protestant church when she always
opposed it, yet so it was, and her name appeared in the preface of the
Gospel of St. John as translator.

[[A.D. 1548.]] Though Mary seldom attended her brother's court, she
spent the following Christmas with him, and at that time they were on
the most affectionate terms. She visited him again at St. James' Palace
in 1548, and had a regular suite of reception rooms for her own use,
where she entertained a number of friends in the most sumptuous style.

Two years later she was so ill that her death was generally expected.
Had she died then how differently would her name have appeared in
history! The hatred between Catholics and Protestants would have been
less, and the horrible persecutions in Great Britain for religion's sake
would never have taken place. But it was destined otherwise.

[[A.D. 1550.]] During this severe illness Mary had a long correspondence
with Somerset, who urged her to join the Protestant faith, but she
remained firm until, by a sudden turn of events, the protector was
deposed by Dudley, Cranmer, and Northampton, who did not rest until they
had brought about his execution. But she had further struggles to
make for her religion; for when Dudley succeeded Somerset he had her
chaplains arrested, and wanted to prevent her from having church service
at all. She made an appeal to Charles V., whose ambassador espoused her
cause, and demanded that the Princess Mary should have her mass. It was
refused, whereupon the Emperor threatened war with England if Mary were
not permitted

{025}

[Illustration: 0031]

{027}to worship as she pleased. Several persons, women as well as men,
were burned to death at this period for adhering to the Catholic faith,
and the Emperor Charles V. had several ships off the east coast of
England to receive Mary and convey her to his sister, the Queen of
Hungary, for protection, if necessary. King Edward gave orders that his
sister should be carefully watched lest she might be stolen away, then
invited her to visit him, saying that the air of Essex was bad for her
health, but she refused to leave.

Throughout the winter the controversy continued with regard to the form
of worship in her chapel, the chief complaint against her being that she
permitted all her neighbors to flock there in crowds, and that she had
mass celebrated at the parish churches by her chaplains. At last she was
so persecuted that she resolved to appeal, in person, to her brother for
relief from the interruption his ministers were causing to her worship.
She mounted her horse, and attended by a train of ladies and gentlemen,
each wearing a black rosary and cross hanging at the side, rode through
Fleet street to Westminster. This display was very irritating to the
Protestant court, but Mary had a two hours' interview with her brother,
with whom she dined, and with his permission returned to Newhall in
Essex the next day, after taking a most affectionate leave of him. He
treated her very kindly, and made no objection when she assured him
"that her soul was God's, and her faith she would not change."

King Edward always felt somewhat hurt because she refused to make long
visits at his court; but even had there been no difference in religious
opinions, the forms and ceremonies imposed on everybody would have been
irksome to one in Mary's poor health.

After the princess had seen her brother she was left {028}undisturbed
for awhile, and then, without the slightest warning, Francis Mallet, her
head chaplain, was seized and confined in the Tower, with a person in
the same cell to watch what he said and did. Mallet was a learned man,
and one whom Mary esteemed so highly that when he was dragged off to
prison she wrote to her brother and his council, complaining of the
injustice; but they took no notice of her whatever, and she continued to
have her religious service celebrated by her remaining chaplains.

[Illustration: 0034]

This went on for a few months, when the king and his council summoned
the chief officers of Mary's household before them, among whom was
Rochester, her comptroller, and charged them to inform their mistress
that she must immediately stop having mass at her court. When they
delivered their message, which they did most unwillingly, the princess
forbade them to repeat it to her chaplains or to anybody else in her
service, and told them that if they failed to obey her they must cease
to consider her their mistress; moreover, she would leave the house
at once. She was so much excited during this interview that the
{029}messengers begged her to take a few days to consider the matter.
She did so, but at the end of the specified time she was firm as ever,
and wrote her brother humbly but decidedly that she would sacrifice her
life rather than what she conceived to be her religious duties.

Edward VI. sent for her officers again, and bade them to use their
influence with Mary's whole household in order that she might be
prevented by them from continuing the Catholic service. They refused
absolutely to interfere, saying that it was against their consciences,
and were locked up in the Tower forthwith.

Having failed with Mary's officers, the king now decided to try what
his own could accomplish. Accordingly three of them were sent to her,
accompanied by a gentleman who was to perform the Protestant service for
her, whether she consented or not.

When they informed Mary of their errand she said that her health
was poor and she did not wish to be troubled with a long interview,
particularly as she had already informed the king by letter of her
intention.

They wanted to read her the list of councillors who had voted that she
should not have private mass in her house, but she would not hear it,
and replied, "Rather than use any other service than that ordained
during the life of my father I will lay my head on the block; but I am
unworthy to suffer death in so good a cause. And though the good,
sweet king have more knowledge than others of his years, yet it is not
possible for him to be a judge of all things; for instance, if ships
were to be sent to sea, I am sure you would not think him able to
decide what should be done, and much less can he, at his age, judge in
questions of divinity. As for my priests, they may act as they choose,
but none of your new service shall be said in any house of mine, and if
any be said in it, I will not tarry in it an hour." {030}When they
told her how her officers had refused to return to her with the second
message, she was highly gratified, and said, "It was not the wisest of
councils that sent her own servants to control her in her own house,
for she was least likely to obey those who had always been used to obey
her." Then she added, "If they refused to do your message, they are the
honestest men I know."

These officers were kept in prison as long as Edward VI. reigned, but
Mary remembered and rewarded their fidelity afterwards.

After some more useless urging on the part of the king's councillors,
Mary gave them a ring to carry to her brother, kneeling as she did so,
and saying, "that she would die his true subject and sister, and obey
him in all things except matters of religion;" then she departed into
her bedchamber.

But the messengers were not satisfied, so they summoned the chaplains
of Mary's household and threatened them with condign punishment if they
performed any service but that contained in the Common Prayer Book.

The chaplains objected at first, but afterwards promised to obey. Mary
was not baffled yet, for she had hidden away one of them and he could
not be found. While search was made for him high and low, the king's
messengers waited in the courtyard; and the princess threw open her
window, and laughingly called out to them, "I pray you ask the lords of
the castle that Rochester may shortly return; for since his departing
I keep the accounts myself, and lo, I have learned how many loaves of
bread be made of a bushel of wheat! My father and mother never brought
me up to brewing and baking! and to be plain with you, I am a-weary of
mine office. If my lords will send my officer home again, they will do
me a pleasure; otherwise, if they will send him to prison, beshrew me,
if he go not to it merrily {031}and with a good will! And I pray God
to send you well in your souls, and in your bodies too, for some of you
have but weak ones."

The deputation did not care to hear anything more that Mary had to say,
but departed without finding the missing chaplain, who, not having made
any promise, performed the forbidden service as usual.

[[A.D. 1552.]] In 1552 King Edward had both the measles and small-pox,
which left him in such a low state of health that he died the following
year.

His true condition was kept secret, and while he was dangerously ill a
splendid bridal festival was held at Durham House, on the occasion of
a double marriage between Lady Jane Grey and Lord Guildford Dudley,
and between Katherine Grey, sister to Jane, and the heir of the Earl of
Pembroke.

Rather more than a month after this ceremony King Edward expired.
He left a will that disinherited his Catholic sister, Mary, and his
Protestant sister, Elizabeth, and bestowed the crown on Lady Jane Grey.
Then the guard was doubled around the royal apartments, and the late
king's council sent a message to Mary that her brother was very ill and
desired to see her. She was highly pleased that his affection should
have prompted him to send for her, and set out immediately. Before
reaching the palace, however, she was met by a mysterious messenger in
disguise, who informed her that the king was dead, and that if she fell
into the hands of his council she would be imprisoned in the Tower.

Mary was sorely perplexed, for she asked herself:

"Might not this messenger have been sent by an enemy, to draw her into
a snare, and induce her to proclaim herself queen while her brother was
still alive?" Such an act would have been treason, and would, of
course, have led {032}to her ruin. However, after mature reflection,
she resolved not to despise the warning, but turned from the London
road towards Suffolk. She spent that night at Sawston Hall, in the
neighborhood of Cambridge. Mr. Huddleston, who was living there, was
a zealous Roman Catholic, and received the princess and her train
cheerfully, though he was well aware that he was taking a risk, for all
his neighbors were opposed to Mary, and would not hesitate to attack him
for extending hospitality to her.

His fears were not without foundation, for when the princess reached
the top of the hill early next morning, as she proceeded on her way, she
beheld the whole building in which she had passed the night in flames. A
party from Cambridge, hearing of her arrival, had set the place on fire,
but had they known of her departure they might have seized her bodily.
"Let it blaze," said Mary, "I will build Huddleston a better."

She kept her word; for the present Sawston Hall was built entirely at
her expense.

She travelled all day, and reached her seat of Kenninghall, in Norfolk,
the same night. By that time Edward's death was known, and it was
necessary for her to assert her title to the throne at once.

She wrote to the council, expressing her sorrow at her brother's death,
and stating that she knew what their intention had been towards her,
but assured them that if they would proclaim her in London as their
sovereign they should be pardoned.

The following day, July 10, they proclaimed Lady Jane Grey Queen of
England.

Mary was determined to maintain her right, and displayed both courage
and prudence in the way she set to work.

She decided to leave Kenninghall, because the country

{033}

[Illustration: 0039]

{035}was too open, and the house not strong enough
to withstand a siege. Two Norfolk gentlemen brought all their
tenantry to her aid, and, mounted on horseback, she proceeded towards
Framlingham, in Suffolk, attended by her faithful knights and ladies.
They arrived at the castle before night. It was situated on a hill,
surrounded by three circles of moats, and everything was in thorough
repair for defence, which the valiant knights and armed citizens
prepared to undertake. Surrounded by the circling towers of Framlingham
Castle, Mary felt herself a sovereign, indeed, and defied her enemies
by displaying her standard over the gate tower. She assumed the title of
Queen-regnant of England and Ireland.

{036}




CHAPTER II.

[[A.D. 1553.]] The royal standard of England had not floated many hours
over the towers of Framlingham Castle before the knights and gentlemen
of Suffolk flocked around Queen Mary, bringing their tenants with them,
all completely armed. About five days later six ships-of-war sailed
along the Suffolk coast towards Yarmouth Roads, with the intention of
besieging Mary's castle.

Sir Henry Jerningham, one of the gentlemen who had attended her from
Norfolk, happened to be at Yarmouth when the fleet entered the harbor,
pretending that they were forced to do so on account of stormy weather.
Sir Henry boldly went out in a boat to hail them. The soldiers on
board the ships asked him what he wanted. "Your captains," replied the
courageous knight; "who are rebels to their lawful Queen Mary."

"If they are," said the men, "we will throw them into the sea, for we
are her true subjects."

The captains surrendered themselves, and Sir Henry took possession of
the ships.

At the same time Sir Edward Hastings was sent to two counties to raise
four thousand men for Queen Jane. As soon as he had secured them, he
proclaimed Mary as his rightful queen, and thus placed a large force at
her disposal, close to London.

Jane Grey's council, headed by Northumberland, were terrified when they
heard of these two events, and still more so when placards were posted
on the churches a few {037}days later, stating that Mary had been
proclaimed Queen of England and Ireland in every town and city excepting
London. A revolution was the result, which ended in the arrest of
Northumberland, who was sent to the Tower. Then several of his party
hastened to Framlingham to excuse themselves to Mary. Among these were
Dr. Sandys, Bishop Ridley, Northampton, and Lord Robert Dudley, all of
whom were arrested.

On the last day of July Mary broke up her camp, and began her triumphant
march towards London. Her sister Elizabeth, at the head of a cavalcade
of nobility and gentry, amounting to a thousand persons, rode out to
meet her.

Queen Mary travelled slowly and stopped many times, not arriving at her
seat of Wanstead until August 3. From thence she proceeded with great
pomp to London.

One of Mary's first acts after she ascended the throne was to forbid the
lord mayor to allow any reading of the Scriptures or preaching by the
curates unless licensed by her. This was the first blow aimed at the
Protestant Church in England by her.

The trial of Northumberland, and others of his party, took place August
18, when eleven were condemned to die, though only the earl and two
others were really executed. Then the ambassadors from Rome urged Mary
to bring Lady Jane Grey to trial, but she replied that she could not
find it in her heart to put her unfortunate kinswoman to death, for she
had been merely a tool in the hands of others, and her existence could
be no possible danger to herself.

Queen Mary continued to love her sister Elizabeth, took her with her
wherever she went, and never dined in public without her. She was
extremely kind to her Cousin Courtenay too, and appointed a nobleman
to instruct and guide him. {038}About the middle of August she had an
interview with the Pope's envoy, and told him that she had concluded
a league with the Emperor, and had made up her mind to marry his heir,
Prince Philip. She also expressed a wish that her kingdom might be
reconciled to Rome, and that Cardinal Pole be sent to her.

Violent struggles were constantly taking place between the two church
parties for possession of the various churches and pulpits, many of
which were determined by hand-to-hand fights.

Mary was anxious to restore the supremacy of the pope, but Bishop
Gardiner was opposed to it, and wanted her to retain her title as head
of the English Church. She replied to him: "I have read in Scripture
that women are forbidden to speak in the church. Is it then proper that
your church should have a dumb head?"

Mary felt the full weight of the responsibility that her father had
assumed for himself, and imposed upon his successors by separating the
Church of England from the authority of Rome, and feared to undertake
it. The party that sided with her was the weakest in numbers of the
three that then existed in England. The other two consisted of the
Catholics opposed to the pope, established by Henry VIII., which was
the strongest, and the Protestant Church of England, established by the
regency of Edward VI.

Mary's ministers belonged to the party of Henry VIII., and had aided him
in his religious persecutions and his other acts of cruelty, but they
had been long used to governing, and she had no other choice than to
retain them.

It was Cranmer, aided by Somerset, who, after the death of Henry,
established a church on Protestant principles, and then began the
intense hatred between the leaders of the two parties. If Lady Jane Grey
had succeeded to the {039}throne. Cranmer would have remained in
power as Archbishop of Canterbury, and the Protestant religion would
undoubtedly have gained the upper hand; but the Catholic Mary deprived
him of his office, and put Gardiner in power instead. This bishop
changed a prison for the seat of lord-chancellor in an astonishingly
short space of time. Then Cranmer was requested to retire to his house
at Lambeth and live there privately. The Protestants misunderstood this
move, and accused him of joining the ranks of the enemy, whereupon he
published an explanation of his creed. The queen's council regarded
this as an attack on the government, and sent him to the Tower, where he
remained for three years, only to suffer horrible martyrdom at last.

On one point all parties were agreed, and that was disapproval of the
queen's engagement to the Prince of Spain. The Emperor Charles, knowing
how strongly Cardinal Pole would oppose it, stopped him on his journey
to England and detained him in a German convent until after the marriage
had taken place.

Philip was only twenty-six years old, and would have preferred a younger
wife, but his father thought political power of far greater importance
than domestic happiness, so he made Mary a formal offer in writing of
his son's hand on the 20th of September, which took place with a great
deal of regal splendor, magnificent festivities, etc.

Meantime the queen occupied herself in forming her household, and
rewarding the personal friends who had been faithful to her by placing
them in high office. She also indulged her fondness for music by
selecting the best singers and performers that could be found for her
royal chapel.

Four days after the coronation Mary opened her first parliament in
state, and Bishop Gardiner as lord-chancellor {040}made an oration
showing causes "wherefore the virtuous and mighty Princess Mary, by the
grace of God, Queen of England, France, and Ireland, defender of the
faith, and head of the church, had summoned her parliament."

They found plenty of work to do in repealing old laws and establishing
new ones. Mary retained her power as head of the church of Henry VIII.
for a year and a half, but the cruelties of her reign did not begin
until she ceased to have that control.

While parliament sat Lady Jane Grey was brought to trial and sentenced
to death on a charge of high treason. The same sentence was passed on
her husband and Cranmer.

Gardiner's influence over the queen was so powerful that he induced her
to burn the Protestant translations of the gospels. Thus, one of Queen
Mary's first acts as head of the church was the destruction of her own
learned work.

Considerable pains were taken by Mary's enemies to create ill feeling
between her and Elizabeth, but without success, and when the young
princess went to live at her palace at Ashbridge the two sisters parted
in the most friendly manner.

After Elizabeth left, the queen had a severe spell of illness that
confined her to her bed for several weeks.

Early in January Count Egmont came to England as ambassador from Spain,
to conclude the marriage treaty between Mary and Philip. He was almost
torn to pieces when he landed in Kent, so opposed were all the British
subjects to this union. But the queen was determined to marry whom she
pleased, and after an interview with the count she told him that he
might confer with her ministers. {041}On the 14th the articles of the
queen's marriage were communicated to the lord-mayor and the city of
London.

They agreed that each sovereign was to govern his kingdom separately.
None but natives of England were to hold offices in the queen's court or
even in the service of her husband. If the queen had a child it was to
succeed to her dominions. Her majesty was never to be carried out of
her dominions without her special request, and Philip was not to engage
England in his father's French wars, nor to appropriate any of the
revenue, ships, ammunition, or crown jewels of England.

[[A.D. 1554.]] The week after these articles became public three
insurrections broke out in different parts of the realm. Two of them
were soon suppressed, and their leaders, who had proclaimed Lady Jane
Grey queen in every town, fled; but the third was headed by Sir Thomas
Wyatt, a young man of twenty-three, who was not so easily managed.
He was a Catholic, but when a boy he had accompanied his father on an
embassy to Spain, and remembered how nearly that parent had become a
victim to the inquisition. This made him fear and detest the Spanish
government, and his motive of revolt was to prevent similar tyranny from
being established in England, by the marriage of the Queen and Philip of
Spain.

Wyatt's rebellion began in Kent, whither Mary sent the aged Duke of
Norfolk with her guards and artillery, accompanied by five hundred of
the London trained companies of soldiers, commanded by Captain Brett.
This person was secretly in league with Wyatt, and actually went over
to his side when they met at Rochester. This treasonable act caused the
loss of the queen's artillery, and gave such encouragement to the rebels
that Wyatt advanced to Deptford with fifteen thousand men. There he
dictated his own terms, which were that the queen and {042}her council
were to be surrendered into his hands. Mary had too much pluck and
determination to listen to such an absurd demand, and prepared for open
war.

The whole city was filled with consternation when the desertion of the
Duke of Norfolk's forces was known, for every one was aware that the
defences of the royal residence at Westminster were weak. All the
queen's council, chaplains, and bishops went about with a complete suit
of armor underneath their customary clothing, prepared to fight when the
time came.

The queen remained calm and collected. She ordered her horse, and
attended by her ladies and councillors, rode to London, where she made
such an eloquent speech, encouraging the citizens to stand by her and
put down the rebellion, that the crowd who filled Guildhall and its
court shouted, "God save Queen Mary and the Prince of Spain!".

She was then rowed to Westminster, where she held a council, appointing
the Earl of Pembroke general of her troops, then gathering to defend St.
James's Palace and Whitehall.

In the meantime Wyatt, finding the city too strongly defended on the
river side, decided to move his forces, but before doing so Winchester
House was plundered, and Bishop Gardiner's books so torn to pieces as to
leave not a single one in his whole library fit for use.

At two o'clock one morning a deserter from the rebels arrived at the
palace of Whitehall with the information that the enemy would be at Hyde
Park Corner within two hours. The bustle and alarm that ensued may be
better imagined then described. Barricades were raised at the points
liable to attack, guards were stationed at the queen's chamber-windows
and private apartments, and the palace echoed with the sobs and cries
of the ladies. But Mary {043}did not lose her presence of mind for
a moment, and when her ministers and councillors crowded around her
imploring her to take refuge in the Tower, she answered: "That she would
set no example of cowardice; and if Pembroke and Clinton proved true to
their posts she would not desert hers."

At four o'clock the drums beat to arms, but the rain was pouring in
torrents on that cold winter's morning, and delayed the rebels until
nine o'clock. Wyatt divided his army into three parts, and a desperate
battle was the result of their attack. Queen Mary stood at a window,
whence she not only saw the struggle, but spoke brave words to the
soldiers who came near enough to hear her, and scouted at any one who
approached her with a discouraging report.

Within the palace the utmost terror reigned, the women running from
place to place shrieking, banging doors and windows, and keeping up an
uproar dreadful to hear.

Just before Pembroke made the final charge, which decided the fortune of
the day, the queen actually came out of the palace and stood between two
armed men within range of the enemy's shot.

At last Wyatt sank down in the street exhausted and discouraged; he was
taken prisoner and locked up in the Tower. Thus ended the rebellion; but
the consequence of it was that the queen was beset from all sides with
requests for the execution of Lady Jane Grey, who had been the innocent
cause of it. Those who demanded this execution said that such scenes
of fighting and bloodshed would occur again and again unless the
unfortunate Lady Jane were put out of the way. Mary yielded at last,
and signed the death warrant of "Guildford Dudley and his wife," to be
executed on the 9th of February, two days later. To Dr. Feckenham, the
queen's chaplain, fell the duty of preparing poor Lady Jane for this
hurried {044}death. He did not succeed in turning her mind from the
Protestant faith, but he won her friendship and gratitude, and her last
words were of the kindness she had received from him.

When told that she was to die so soon, she said: "That she was prepared
to receive her death in any manner it would please the queen to appoint.
She shuddered at the thought, as was natural; but her spirit would
spring rejoicingly into the eternal light, where she hoped the mercy of
God would receive it."

The execution of this lovely, innocent young woman and her husband is a
frightful stain on Mary's name, even though she was urged to it in order
to prevent further civil wars.

The city presented a ghastly spectacle at that time; for the deserters
under Brett were all hung, many of them at their own doors, so that
dangling corpses met the eye at every turn of the street.

The prisoners of Wyatt's army, amounting to five hundred, were led to
the tilt-yard at Whitehall, with ropes about their necks; then the queen
appeared in the gallery above and pronounced the pardon of all. This is
a proof that Mary was far more merciful than her ministers, who wanted
them brought to trial. She was very lenient in her conduct towards her
sister, Elizabeth, too, when Sir Thomas Wyatt's confession gave her
notice that the princess was quite as much a competitor for her crown as
Lady Jane Grey had been.

She sent her own litter for Elizabeth, who had been ill, and had her
brought to Whitehall, where she was appointed a suite of apartments in a
secure corner of the palace.

Elizabeth had deceived her sister, and had carried on a secret
correspondence with Wyatt and the King of France. Mary knew this, but
remained her friend, although she {045}would have no communication with
her whatever until she could clear herself of having taken part in any
act of treason.

Courtenay was in disgrace, also, because he had corresponded with Wyatt,
and was locked up in the Tower. The Spanish ambassador informed Mary
that the marriage treaty between her and Prince Philip could not be
concluded until both Elizabeth and Courtenay were punished; but the laws
of England required an open act of treason to be proved before a person
could be sentenced, and Mary was determined to abide by them.

However, as no nobleman could be found willing to undertake the
dangerous office of watching Elizabeth, she was imprisoned in the Tower
also.

In March Count Egmont returned to England, bringing Mary an engagement
ring from Philip, which he presented before her whole court. She
received it with thanks, and sent a kind message to the prince, who, she
said, had not yet written to her.

Renaud, the Spanish ambassador, kept continually calling her attention
to the fact that Philip would not be safe in England until the rebels,
especially Elizabeth and Courtenay, had been punished. But Mary put him
off with some general remark each time, and thus dismissed the unwelcome
subject. She had loved her sister from infancy, and was too constant in
her affection to destroy her now. Gardiner was accused of protecting the
princess; but it was only because of his friendship for Courtenay, with
whom she was implicated in the rebellion, that he refrained from showing
enmity towards her. He was really a friend to Courtenay, whose family
had been martyrs to Catholicism, and for some time had been his
fellow-prisoner in the Tower, where their attachment had been
strengthened.

On the 5th of May the queen, having recovered from a {046}very severe
spell of illness, dissolved parliament in person, and made such an
eloquent address that she was interrupted five or six times by loud
shouts of "Long live the queen!" and many persons wept.

A couple of weeks later Elizabeth was removed from the Tower to
Woodstock, where she was closely watched by part of the queen's guard,
and Courtenay was sent to Fotheringay Castle, also under guard.

The same week a Spanish grandee arrived in England to prepare for the
reception of Prince Philip, to whom Queen Mary had written a letter
announcing the consent of her parliament to their marriage.

The prince embarked for England July 13, and meantime Mary retired with
her council to Richmond Palace to decide what station her husband was to
occupy. She considered it her duty to yield implicit obedience; and this
notion was the cause of many crimes of which she was guilty later in
life.

When she asked whether her name or Philip's should be placed first in
the legal documents, Renaud replied, indignantly, "that neither divine
nor human laws would suffer his highness to be named last." She next
wished to know whether he was to be crowned as king. Her council
objected very decidedly, but agreed that the moment he touched English
ground he should have a collar and mantle of the Garter worth two
thousand pounds.

When the news arrived that the combined fleets of England and Spain,
amounting to one hundred and sixty sails, had made the port of
Southampton, the queen was at Windsor Castle. Next day she set out with
her bridal retinue for Winchester, where she intended her marriage to be
celebrated.

Don Philip landed July 20, 1554. A crowd of noblemen received the prince
and presented him with the {047}Order of the Garter, which was buckled
below the knee, and the blue velvet mantle, fringed with gold and
pearls. He mounted a horse presented by his royal bride, and rode
straight to church, where he returned thanks for his safe voyage. Then
he was conducted to the palace prepared for him.

He was dressed simply in black velvet, his cap being trimmed with gold
chains and a small feather. The shape of his head denoted ability; but
his complexion was yellowish, his hair thin and sandy, and his eyes
small, blue, and weak, which, added to a most disagreeably gloomy
expression of countenance, rendered Philip of Spain anything but a
handsome man.

The following day being Friday. Don Philip went to mass, and the English
nobles who attended him were much pleased with his courteous manners.

On Sunday morning, Ruy Gomez de Silva, Philip's Grand Chamberlain, was
sent to Queen Mary with a present of jewels valued at fifty thousand
ducats. After mass the prince dined in public, and was waited upon by
his newly-appointed English officers. He tried to make himself popular,
told his attendants in Latin that he had come to live among them like an
Englishman, and praised their ale, which he tasted for the first time in
his life.

The bridegroom and his suite mounted their horses and set out in a
drenching rain on Monday morning for Winchester. He was escorted by
the Earl of Pembroke, with two hundred and fifty cavaliers, a hundred
archers, and four thousand spectators, who formed a procession.

Don Philip was dressed as usual in black velvet, but on account of the
rain he wore a large red-felt cloak, and a black hat. About a mile from
Winchester two noblemen from the queen met the bridegroom, attended by
six royal pages, dressed in cloth of gold, and mounted on large Flemish
horses. {048}Between six and seven o'clock, the procession reached the
city-gate, where the aldermen and mayor presented Don Philip with the
keys of the city, which he returned. A volley of artillery greeted him,
and twelve men, dressed in red and gold, conducted him to the Dean of
Winchester's house, where he lived until after his marriage.

Having changed his dress for a superb black velvet robe bordered with
diamonds, he went to the cathedral, and after prayers held his first
interview with Queen Mary, who received him very lovingly.

The next afternoon at three o'clock the queen held a grand court, gave
Don Philip a public audience, and kissed him in the presence of a large
company. Then after they conversed for a while under the canopy of
state, the prince was conducted to his residence by a torchlight
procession.

The marriage was performed next day. One of the Spanish grandees
delivered a solemn oration, in which he announced that the emperor had
resigned the kingdom of Naples in favor of his son, so that Mary married
a king, not a prince. Then the ceremony proceeded in Latin and English,
after which the royal pair returned hand in hand from the high altar
and seated themselves until the mass was concluded, when they walked
together under the same canopy to the hall where the banquet was spread.

The seats for Queen Mary and her husband were on a dais under a canopy,
where their table was laid. Below the dais were various tables for
the queen's ladies, the Spanish grandees, their wives, and the English
nobility. Bishop Gardiner dined at the royal table. A band of musicians
played throughout the meal, and four heralds entered between the
first and second courses and pronounced a Latin oration in praise of
matrimony.

After the banquet King Philip returned thanks to the council and nobles,
and the queen spoke very graciously {049}

[Illustration: 0055]

{051}in Spanish. At six o'clock the tables were removed and dancing
began, which lasted until nine.

The Spanish fleet sailed for Flanders next day, having first landed
eighty of the most superb horses that ever were seen for Philip's use.
Four of five hundred Spaniards, among whom were a number of fools and
buffoons, were permitted to remain in England; but the queen's marriage
articles forbade the presence of a large number, so the rest were
obliged to return home.

Within a week of their marriage the royal couple gave a sumptuous
festival of the Garter at Windsor Castle to celebrate King Philip's
admission to that order. Later there was a grand hunt, and a large
number of deer were slaughtered.

The usual pageantry attended the public entry into London, which was
made with an imposing retinue of English nobles and Spanish grandees.
Philip had brought over enough gold and silver to fill ninety-seven
chests, each a yard and a quarter long. This treasure was piled on
twenty carts and drawn through the city so that everybody might see it
before it was taken to the Tower to be coined.

Festivities were kept up until the Duke of Norfolk died, when, as
Mary had loved him very much, the whole court was ordered to go into
mourning. The queen retired to Hampton Court, where, with her husband,
she lived very quietly until the opening of her third parliament, in
November. Then she rode in procession, King Philip at her side, to her
palace at Whitehall. She was very anxious that the lands her father
had taken from the church should be restored, but her council would not
consent because they declared she could not support the splendor of her
crown if she deprived herself of these sources of revenue. She replied,
"that she preferred the peace of her conscience to ten such crowns as
England." {052}Her reason for requesting the restoration of the church
property was that Cardinal Pole was on his way to visit her, and she
desired to be prepared for whatever instructions he might bear from the
pope.

Every mark of honor was bestowed on Pole when he arrived. He was
rowed up the Thames to Whitehall, Bishop Gardiner received him at
the water-gate, King Philip at the principal entrance, and Queen Mary
herself at the head of the grand staircase.

On the day appointed for Cardinal Pole's mission to be made known to
parliament the queen was so ill that the proceedings took place in the
audience chamber at Whitehall. Her majesty was carried to the throne,
where King Philip sat at her left hand and Cardinal Pole at the right.

Lord Chancellor Gardiner made the opening address, introducing the
cardinal, who spoke eloquently of his own sufferings and exile, and
pleaded the cause of the Roman Catholics and of the queen with such good
effect that a petition for a reconciliation with the pope was prepared
on the spot, and duly signed by each of the peers.

This was presented to the royal couple next day, who, in the presence
of parliament, delivered the document into the hands of the Roman
ambassador, who thereupon solemnly pronounced absolution and benediction
on all present.

During this ceremony Mary's illness returned; but she was better by
Christmas, which was celebrated with unusual splendor on account of the
royal marriage and of the recent reconciliation to Rome. The Princess
Elizabeth was enjoying the most friendly relations with her sister at
that period, and took part in the festivities. She sat beside the queen
at the state supper which was given in the great hall of Westminster,
and attended by an assembly of English, Flemish, and Spanish nobles.
{053}The queen's illness had rendered her incapable of governing, so
she can scarcely be held accountable for the cruel executions that took
place, though she certainly took on measures to prevent them. Philip was
the real sovereign, and viewed the burning of the two or three hundred
martyrs of the Protestant Church with remarkable complacency.

[Illustration: 0059]

Fortunately for Bishop Coverdale, the translator of the English Bible,
the King of Denmark wrote Queen Mary a {054}letter claiming him for a
subject, otherwise he too would have died at the stake.

[[A.D. 1555.]] The sudden and unexpected abdication of the Emperor
Charles V. called King Philip to Spain to receive the sceptre, and
before he left Queen Mary removed from Hampton Court to Greenwich
Palace. But whether in England or out of it, Philip was certainly ruler
so long as his wife lived, and minute accounts of all church and state
affairs were submitted to him during his absence. No power was legally
given to him by parliament, but he coolly took it, and gave important
orders without so much as consulting the queen.

When not under her husband's bad influence Mary restored some wise laws,
and the fact that insurrections ceased in her reign proves that the poor
were not so destitute as they had been during the lives of her father
and brother.

Queen Mary was so ill throughout the rest of the year 1555 that she
remained quietly at Greenwich, sometimes making excursions to the
country, when she would enter the cottages of the poor and relieve their
wants without revealing her identity. This was during Philip's absence;
he returned for a short time in 1557 for the purpose of trying to
involve England in a war with France. But Mary's finances were at a
low ebb, and she did not feel justified in involving her kingdom in the
expenses of a war. Philip's army was mustering near Calais, and in order
to gratify him with as little cost as possible, she pardoned all the
rebels in her prisons on condition that they would join it also. She
raised money by borrowing small sums from those of her citizens who had
any to spare, and paying them an enormous interest. Philip left England
in the summer and never saw his wife again. He succeeded in taking
possession of Calais, but the French gained it back a few months later.
{055}Queen Mary was in a most feeble condition when the Scotch made
an invasion in the north of England, nevertheless she expressed her
determination to head her army in person. She had all the energy
required for such an exploit, but was soon convinced that her bodily
health forbade it. Her troops, under Northumberland and Westmoreland,
repulsed the Scotch and gained a decided victory over them.

The rest of Queen Mary's life was filled with schemes for the recovery
of Calais, a town highly prized by the English, because it was such an
excellent spot for them to land whenever they desired to invade France.
So many disputes were the result that, in her perplexity, Mary declared,
"that should she die Calais would be found written upon her heart if her
breast were opened."

[[A.D. 1558.]] Her death was nearer than she suspected, for she
contracted a malarial fever in the autumn of 1558, from which she did
not recover. King Philip sent a message and a ring by Count de Feria
when he heard of his wife's illness, and proposed that she should take
measures for the recognition of her sister Elizabeth as her successor.
Mary complied; and no sooner had she done so than her whole court
flocked to Hatfield, anxious to prove their devotion to the princess who
was soon to become their sovereign.

While the last services of the church were being performed for her, on
the morning of November 17, Queen Mary raised her eyes to heaven and
expired.

Her devoted and early friend, Cardinal Pole, died two days later.

The queen's body was embalmed, and, after lying in state for a month,
was interred at Westminster Abbey, on the north side of Henry VIIth's
Chapel. {056}




CHAPTER III. ELIZABETH, SECOND QUEEN-REGNANT OF ENGLAND AND IRELAND.

(A.D. 1533-1603.)

|Elizabeth was one of the most learned and distinguished queens that
ever lived, and there is no other about whom so many celebrated authors
have written.

[[A.D. 1533.]] She was the daughter of Henry VIII. and Anne Boleyn, who
were living at Greenwich Palace at the time of her birth. When she
was four days old her christening was conducted with great pomp and
ceremony,--the lord mayor, all the aldermen and council of the city of
London, besides a great number of knights and lords, being present.

Cranmer, the Archbishop of Canterbury, stood godfather on that occasion,
the Duchess of Norfolk and the Marchioness of Dorset being godmothers.
The gifts to the little princess consisted of costly gold cups, bowls,
and salvers.

Elizabeth did not remain with her parents; for the royal nursery was at
Hunsdon, where, surrounded by every comfort and luxury that an infant
could possibly need, she was lovingly tended by Lady Margaret Bryan.
This lady had also taken charge of the Princess Mary, and had proved
herself to be a woman of such rare sense and excellent qualities
that she was eminently fitted for her post as superintendent of the
household. While Anne Boleyn lived King Henry fondled and petted her
little daughter; but after her head was cut off and her place supplied
by another.

[Illustration: 0063]

[Illustration: 0065]

She was just four years of age, and the Earl of Hertford carried her in
his arms to the font; but when the procession left the chapel the two
Princesses, Mary and Elizabeth, walked out hand in hand, their trains
being supported by noble ladies, who followed close behind.

Fortunately for Elizabeth her early youth was passed in seclusion, which
afforded opportunity for the cultivation of her mind, and thus prepared
her for the exalted position she was to occupy later. {059}other wife,
his petting was succeeded by neglect and even cruelty, that must have
been a sore trial to the child as well as to faithful Lady Bryan.

[[A.D. 1537.]] Elizabeth was seen in public for the first time when her
little brother, Edward VI., was christened. {060}She and Prince Edward
were warmly attached to each other, and he, at least, was never happier
than while they were permitted to live together. It was she who gave him
his earliest instruction in walking and talking, and it was to her that
he turned for comfort in all his childish sorrows.

[[A.D. 1539.]] When only six years of age Elizabeth presented her little
brother with a shirt made entirely by her own hands; which proves that
she must have learned to handle her needle at a very early age.

As they grew older these children played and studied together, and
Edward relied for advice on "his sweetest sister," as he loved to call
her, until he was separated from her. It was their custom to rise at
daylight and devote a couple of hours to religious exercises and the
reading of Scripture. After breakfast they studied languages, science,
and the works of the best authors; then Edward would seek exercise
in the open air, while his sister occupied herself with her music or
needlework.

Edward's first real source of grief was his separation from this beloved
sister when he ascended the throne. It was his desire to have her with
him even then; but his selfish councillors, being jealous of any outside
influence, interposed to prevent it.

His devotion to Elizabeth lasted until death: she had been his earliest
playmate, and no difference in religious views had ever risen to
interfere with the congeniality that marked their intercourse. It was
different with Mary, who was a rigid Roman Catholic, and always opposed
the Protestant tendencies of her brother and sister.

When Henry VIII. married Anne of Cleves, Elizabeth wrote her stepmother
a most dutiful, affectionate letter, in which she expressed desire to
make her acquaintance. An opportunity soon offered, when the queen was
so charmed {061}with the wit and beauty of the young princess that at
the time of her divorce she requested that they might be permitted the
interchange of visits, which was granted.

The next stepmother, Katherine Howard, loved Elizabeth too, and treated
her with marked tenderness and consideration, giving her the place of
honor near the throne at all public entertainments.

With a view to strengthening the friendly relations between England and
other countries, King Henry tried at various times to form an alliance
for his daughter with several powerful princes; but fortunately for her
all his plans fell through.

Under the guidance of her fourth stepmother, Katherine Parr, who was a
very learned woman, Elizabeth pursued her studies uninterrupted by any
thought of matrimony, which at so early an age, and planned for state
purposes, must have proved a misfortune.

She lived in retirement with her father's widow for a year after his
death; and though she set up an independent establishment of her own
when she was fifteen years old, she and Katherine Parr continued to be
fast friends as long as that lady lived.

[[A.D. 1545.]] Even at that early age, Elizabeth was well-informed in
geography, architecture, mathematics, and astronomy, besides being
an accomplished Latin and Greek scholar. She spoke and wrote French,
Italian, Spanish, and Flemish; but her favorite study was history, to
which she devoted three hours a day.

[[A.D. 1553.]] She displayed no small amount of shrewdness when her
brother died, which was remarkable in so young a woman. Edward's illness
had been concealed from his sisters by the wily statesmen who kept
strict guard over him, and who had used every effort to foster the
ill-feeling that existed between him and his relations. As {062}soon as
his death occured they wrote Mary and Elizabeth that he was seriously
ill, and desired their presence at his bedside. The object was to secure
the two princesses, lock them up in prison, and proclaim Lady Jane Grey
successor to the crown of England; but Elizabeth, suspecting some
plot, took not the slightest notice of the letters. When the Duke of
Northumberland offered her a liberal sum of money, besides a tract of
land, providing she would resign her right of succession in favor of
Lady Jane Grey, she replied, "that an agreement must first be made
with her elder sister, during whose life she had no right nor title to
resign."

It was not without a difficult struggle that Mary got possession of the
crown, and while it was going on Elizabeth pretended to be desperately
ill and remained quietly at home. No sooner was it assured than she
recovered and went in state, at the head of a large retinue, to
welcome the new queen. Then the two sisters rode side by side, in grand
procession through London, and were, apparently, on the best of terms.
Nobody who witnessed that procession could fail to observe the contrast
between the two royal ladies. Poor Mary, whose life had thus far been
one of sadness, anxiety, and ill-health, sat on her horse almost bent
double, and looking like a woman of middle age, although she was only
twenty. Elizabeth, on the other hand, whose fine, majestic form and
gracious manners won every heart as she smilingly bowed to the right and
left, looked every inch a queen, and Mary sank into insignificance by
her side. Her face, though not handsome, was pleasing, and her dark eyes
shone with gratification at the attention she attracted. Throughout her
life Elizabeth's delicate, well-formed hands were a source of pride to
her, and she never lost an opportunity of displaying them to the best
advantage. {063}Within a month the affection that the two sisters
entertained for each other was seriously impaired on account of their
difference in religion, which created a great deal of ill-feeling.
Elizabeth refused to attend mass, which, though gratifying to the
Protestants, deeply grieved and offended Mary.

The state councillors regarded Elizabeth's conduct in this matter as
a mark of disrespect, and wanted to have her arrested; but the queen
refused at first to take any extreme measures, and contented herself by
turns with threats and persuasion.

Elizabeth remained firm in her desire to appear as the heroine of the
Reformers, though for the sake of policy she consented to read several
religious books recommended by the queen, and even accompanied her
once or twice to church. As a reward Mary bestowed many favors on the
princess, and placed her in prominent positions on state occasions. This
was just what Elizabeth sought; for she knew the importance of keeping
herself before the nation, and never lost an opportunity of appearing as
Mary's successor. Her manners were so gracious that she became a great
favorite among the court ladies, and thus excited her sister's jealousy
to such a degree that when a charge of treason was brought against
her Mary lent a willing ear to it. Elizabeth was able to prove her
innocence; but she felt so indignant at having been suspected that she
requested permission to retire to the country and thus rid herself of
court intrigue.

She took up her abode in her own house at Ashbridge; but even there she
was not left in peace, for the queen was anxious to have her marry
the Spanish Prince, Philibert of Savoy, and the King of France was
constantly making her offers of protection and aid if she would only
assert her claim to the throne. He even proceeded so far as to advise
{064}her to go to France, which would have been a most unwise move
on her part, and wrote her letters in a secret language. This had the
effect of rendering her position extremely critical; but fortunately
Elizabeth's judgment was so excellent that she knew how to save herself
from the friends who would unintentionally have done her more harm, had
she taken their advice, than her enemies.

[[A.D. 1554.]] She was recalled to court at the time of the insurrection
under Wyatt, because she and Courtenay were accused of having urged it
with a view to getting the Protestant party into power. She was quite
ill when the summons reached her, but obeyed it as soon as possible,
and chanced to arrive in London on the very day of the execution of Lady
Jane Grey. No doubt she trembled for the safety of her own head while
the queen was daily signing the death-warrants of those who really had
turned against her or appeared to have done so. The public mind was in
such a state of excitement on account of the numerous executions that
were taking place, that many wept as the young princess rode through the
streets attended by a guard of honor, consisting of a hundred gentlemen,
for they supposed that she was being led to the block. Dressed in a robe
of pure white, Elizabeth sat up in a litter and looked around with a
proud, lofty air. Her youthful appearance touched many a heart; but not
one arm or voice, in all the multitude that had assembled to gaze upon
her, was raised in her defence.

With a retinue of six of her ladies, two gentlemen, and four servants,
she was lodged in a wing of Westminster Palace; and although she
knew that the privy council were debating as to whether she should be
executed or no, she was unable to get sight of her sister or to plead
her cause in any way.

{065}

[Illustration: 0071]

{067}Many charges were brought against the princess, but Mary's
conscience forbade the shedding of her sister's blood; so, after a few
weeks' deliberation, she shut her up in the Tower.

Elizabeth's letters to the queen, asserting her innocence, were
unnoticed. She was forbidden to use English prayer-books, and compelled
to hear mass. Two of her ladies who objected to this were dismissed by
the queen's orders and replaced by Catholics. At first she was kept in
close confinement, but after a while her health began to suffer, and she
was permitted to take exercise in a little enclosed garden.

The officers and servants about the prison were respectful and attentive
to the royal lady, and their children would bring her flowers from time
to time. Her love of children was great throughout her whole life, and
their ready sympathy during her imprisonment was most pleasing to her.

One day a little four-year-old child picked up a bunch of keys and
carried them to her in the garden, saying:

"I have brought you the keys now, so you need not always stay here. You
can unlock the gates and go out whenever you please."

Another child, the son of one of the soldiers, received so many tokens
of reward from the royal prisoner in return for the bouquets he carried
her, that he was, before long, suspected of acting as messenger between
her and her fellow-prisoners, Courtenay and Lord Robert Dudley. Such may
not have been the case; but the boy was prevented from again seeing the
princess, and his father was severely reprimanded.

Elizabeth could not have regarded Lord Robert Dudley in the light of
a friend when she was sent to the Tower, because she knew that he had
favored Lady Jane Grey's cause; therefore, the fact that he was in her
good graces {068}immediately upon her accession to the throne, proves
that he must, in the interval, have found some means of seeking and
obtaining her pardon. Whether or no notes and messages passed between
them within the walls of the gloomy Tower can only be conjectured.

At the expiration of a couple of months, Elizabeth was removed to
Woodstock, where her life was less painful, though she was never allowed
to forget that she was a prisoner under close surveillance. A band of
armed men kept watch around the walls of the palace night and day, and
she was allowed no visitors.

She passed many hours at her needlework, and composed several pieces of
poetry, which are scarcely worthy of being repeated. But her time hung
heavily on her hands, and she was tortured by constant dread of her life
being in danger. One day when sitting in her garden she heard a milkmaid
merrily singing at her work, and said with a weary sigh: "Ah! her case
is better, and her life is happier than mine; would I were a milkmaid,
too!"

With the hope of softening her sister's heart towards her, Elizabeth
attended mass, went to confession, and, with the advice of Cardinal
Pole, even proclaimed herself a Roman Catholic. She displayed a
great deal of self-possession, when the queen, who still doubted her
sincerity, notwithstanding her professions of religion, caused her to be
questioned as to her opinion of a real Saviour in the sacrament of the
Lord's Supper. She hesitated for only one moment, then replied in these
extempore lines:--

                   "Christ was the word that spake it;

                   He took the bread and brake it,

                   And what his word did make it,

                   That I believe, and take it."

Elizabeth's policy had the desired effect, and to her inexpressible
delight she was invited to Hampton Court {069}to spend the Christmas
holidays with her sister, the queen. But a little disappointment
awaited her on her arrival there; for much to her surprise she was
still destined to be treated as a prisoner, and it was a whole fortnight
before any notice was taken of her being at the palace, or before any
one was admitted to visit her.

[[A.D. 1555.]] She kept constantly wondering what this could mean, but
had no opportunity of finding out. Quite unexpectedly one night she was
summoned to the presence of the queen. Trembling with fear, and as to
her fate, she was conducted by torchlight to the royal apartments. On
entering she threw herself at Mary's feet and declared that she was a
most true and loyal subject. In fact, she conducted herself throughout
the interview in so submissive a manner, that at its close she was
dismissed with tokens of affection and a beautiful ring. After that she
was relieved of the presence of the guards and keepers and treated with
marked respect by the principal personages of the realm.

Although Philip, Mary's husband, could never quite forgive Elizabeth
because she had refused to marry his friend, Philibert of Savoy, he was
extremely kind to her, and did his part towards rendering the holidays a
delightful season of enjoyment for her. At one of the grand pageants the
young princess wore a rich white satin dress, embroidered all over
in large pearls; and when she made her appearance in the hall, both
Cardinal Pole and the king kneeled down and kissed her hand.

[[A.D. 1556.]] The following autumn she went to live at Hatfield, where,
surrounded by her old, attached friends, she established her household
to her own liking. Her learned instructor, Roger Ascham, was one of the
inmates, and under his guidance Elizabeth resumed her study of classical
literature.

[[A.D. 1557.]] {070}In February the queen made her a visit, and
was entertained in a sumptuous manner. There were daily amusements
consisting of performances on the virginals, chorus singing, acting, and
sumptuous banquets, as well as hunting parties, in which both the royal
ladies took part.

[Illustration: 0076]

During the next summer the queen invited Elizabeth to an entertainment
at Richmond. She was conveyed there in her majesty's own barge, which
was richly decorated with garlands of artificial flowers, and covered
with a green silk canopy embroidered in gold. Four ladies accompanied
{071}her, and six boats, containing her retinue, followed. The queen
received her in a magnificent pavilion in her garden. This pavilion was
made in the form of a castle and covered with purple velvet and cloth
of gold, on which appeared the Spanish coat of arms, in honor of King
Philip. A fine feast was served to the royal ladies, after which a
number of minstrels performed. The next day Elizabeth returned to
Hatfield, where she remained quietly until the following November, when
Queen Mary died, and she was proclaimed her successor.

[[A.D. 1558.]] Heralds, stationed at the grand door of Westminster
Palace, as well as at other public places, announced the new sovereign
with the sound of trumpets, while bells were rung, bonfires lighted,
and ale and wine generously dealt out to the populace by the wealthy
citizens.

All exhibitions of mourning for the dead queen were quickly replaced by
celebrations in honor of the living one, whose accession was regarded
with the keenest interest by the whole nation.

Elizabeth's first public act, after receiving the privy council, was
to appoint her principal secretary of state. Her choice was Sir William
Cecil, who not only proved himself a great statesman, but remained
Elizabeth's staunch friend to the day of his death.

On the twenty-eighth day of November the new queen entered the city
of London, attended by a train of about a thousand nobles, knights,
gentlemen, and ladies, and proceeded to the Charter-house. Next, in
accordance with an ancient custom, she proceeded to the Tower. On that
occasion the streets through which she passed were spread with fine
gravel. The public buildings were hung with rich tapestry, and guns were
fired at regular intervals. The queen was mounted on her palfry, richly
attired in purple {072}velvet: a vast concourse of people had gathered
to greet her, and as she approached, preceded by her heralds and great
officers, joyful shouts and acclamations filled the air, while she
gracefully returned the salutations of even the humblest of her
subjects.

At various points the procession halted while the queen was welcomed
with music, speeches, or a chorus of children. She seemed pleased with
everything, replied to the addresses, noticed everybody, and frankly
expressed her gratification at the honors that were showered upon
her. Her early misfortunes had taught her a wholesome lesson, and in
adversity she had learned the worth of Wordsworth's immortal words:--

               "Of friends, however humble, scorn not one."

Attended by Lord Robert Dudley, who had already been appointed to the
lofty position of master of the house, Elizabeth entered the Tower, once
her dungeon, now her palace, and proceeded straight to her former prison
apartment, where falling on her knees she offered up a loud, fervent
prayer of thanksgiving.

While passing through the court of the Tower she turned to those near
her, and said: "Some have fallen from being princes in this land to be
prisoners in this place; I am raised from being a prisoner in this place
to be prince of this land, so I must bear myself thankful to God and
merciful to men."

After a few days in the Tower the queen went to Somerset House for
a fortnight, and then to the palace of Westminster, where she spent
Christmas.

The next matter of importance that occupied Elizabeth's attention was
her coronation, for which preparations were already going forward in
London. It seems strange that so learned a woman as Queen Elizabeth
should have been {073}superstitious, but such was indeed the case, and
she scarcely ever took an important step without previously consulting
Doctor Dee, the well-known conjuror.

Consequently Robert Dudley was sent to request this humbug to appoint
a lucky day for the coronation. After consulting the stars and other
heavenly bodies he decided upon Sunday, January 15.

All the favorite summer residences of the Tudor princes stood on the
banks of the Thames. Therefore, as the streets of London were narrow
and badly paved, it was the custom of the court to pass from one to the
other by water. The nobility owned their own barges, and the rowers wore
liveries distinguished by the crests and badges of their employers.

Three days before the solemn and imposing coronation ceremony was to
take place, a grand procession of boats was arranged for the purpose of
conducting her majesty from Westminster to the royal apartments in the
Tower.

Rich tapestries, hangings of silk and velvet, gorgeously embroidered
in gold and silver, hung from the balconies of the houses all along the
route, while gay banners, pennons, and flags floated from the roofs. All
the public and private barges were drawn forth in grand array,
festooned with garlands of flowers and bright new flags. Bands of music
accompanied the procession, and cannons were fired during its entire
progress.

On the 14th the queen's passage through the city took place. She
appeared in a superb chariot, preceded by trumpeters and heralds in
armor, and drawn by richly caparisoned horses. A retinue of lords and
ladies followed on horseback, the latter wearing crimson velvet habits.
The gentlemen wore gowns of velvet or satin richly trimmed with fur or
gold lace, costly gold chains, and caps or hoods {074}of material to
match the gown, adorned with feathers and jewels.

Elizabeth did not sit quietly back in her chariot as other sovereigns
did; she kept constantly acting--making speeches, smiling, pressing her
hand to her heart, and raising her eyes to heaven as occasion seemed
to demand. This peculiar behavior delighted the populace, who showered
their sovereign with nosegays and rent the air with shouts and cheers.
Several times she stopped the procession to say a few pleasant words
to some particularly poor-looking individual, and a branch of rosemary
presented by a shabbily-dressed old woman occupied a prominent place in
the royal chariot until its arrival at Westminster.

By such trifling actions Elizabeth won the hearts of even the lowest of
her subjects. It was her policy to please, and no woman was ever more
perfect in the art. She listened with profound attention to the poems
and speeches that accompanied the pageants arranged at different points
along Cheapside, where every house was decorated and rich carpets
covered the path. The pageants were similar to the triumphal arches
of the present day. They were erected of wood, and had appropriate
sentences in Latin and English inscribed upon them. At each one a child
was stationed to explain to the queen in English verse the meaning of
the device.

One pageant represented an allegory of Time and Truth. "Who is that old
man with the scythe and hour-glass?" asked Elizabeth. "Time," was the
reply. "Time has brought me here," she returned. Truth held a Bible
which, at the recital of a particular part of the verse, was let down
by a silken cord into the queen's chariot. She received the volume with
both hands, and reverently pressed it to her heart and lips, declaring
in a loud tone that she thanked the city more for that gift than any
other, and {075}added that she would read it diligently. Equal attention
was bestowed on the other pageants; and just as she passed through
Temple Bar Elizabeth stood up, and, facing the crowd, exclaimed in
farewell: "Be ye well assured, I will stand your good queen."

The shouts that arose in response sounded above the report of the guns.

Next morning the queen appeared at Westminster, attired in a mantle of
crimson velvet, lined and trimmed with ermine and fastened with cords,
tassels, and buttons of silk and gold. Her jacket and train were also
of crimson velvet, and gold lace adorned her head-dress. She wore
no jewels, and her coronation was remarkable for its simplicity. The
Episcopal bishop, Oglethorpe, performed the ceremony, but he followed
the Roman Catholic ritual without the slightest change. Though Elizabeth
was a Protestant, she raised no objection to the Catholic service
until the following Christmas, when just at the moment for making her
offerings she arose abruptly, and, followed by her whole retinue, left
the chapel. Had any objection been made to this proceeding she would
have pleaded sudden illness, but finding it universally approved, she
ordered the service to be for the future performed in English, which was
never done in the Catholic church.

The learned Doctor Parker was appointed Archbishop of Canterbury, and
it was through his influence that the Church of England was established
nearly in its present state.

One of the queen's earliest acts was to send friendly messages to all
the Protestant princes of Europe; at the same time she assured the pope
that she would not interfere with the religious views of any of her
subjects. Thus she hoped to conciliate both parties. As a rule, she
was gracious to her former persecutors; but to one member of {076}Queen
Mary's household who had been impertinent to her, and who hastened to
throw himself at her feet as soon as she was raised to power, she said:
"Fear not; we are of the nature of the lion, and cannot descend to the
destruction of mice and such small beasts."

Queen Elizabeth made an enemy of Philip, her sister's widower, by
refusing his hand when she was twenty-five years of age; but in doing so
she announced her determination never to marry at all.

Her popularity increased to such an extent that the lower classes
idolized her, and the nobles and gentlemen of her realm were thirsting
for an opportunity to risk their lives in her service.

She appeared in public very frequently, and when her rowing parties took
place crowds flocked to the river banks to welcome her with music
and fireworks. When she went to Greenwich for the summer all sorts of
exhibitions were planned to furnish an excuse for Londoners to flock
there.

Much of Elizabeth's popularity was due to the fact that she spared no
pains to render the national holidays enjoyable to every class of her
subjects. Though she, too, enjoyed the festivities with all the zest
of a young, sprightly, healthy woman, her pleasure was not by any means
unalloyed.

One serious cause of anxiety was the knowledge that Henry II. of France
was constantly trying to place his daughter-in-law, Mary Stuart, on the
throne of England, and there was a powerful Catholic party who felt
her claim to be a just one. But death soon put an end to the king's
interference, and calmed Elizabeth's fears from that source.

Then Mary Stuart's husband, Francis II., threatened to assert her
rights; but he was too sickly and insignificant a {077}person to take
the stand his father had done, and death removed him also out of the
way.

So many suitors sought the young queen's hand that we are reminded of
what Shakspeare says of Portia in "The Merchant of Venice": "While we
shut the gate on a wooer, another knocks at the door."

[[A.D 1559.]] Elizabeth coquetted with them, accepted their numerous
and costly presents, made use of them to further her plans or carry
some point with her council, but never with the slightest intention of
marrying any one of them.

When at last Philip II. married she pretended to feel dreadfully
mortified, and told the Spanish ambassador "that his king was very
inconstant, since he could not wait four short months to see whether she
would change her mind."

The person most favored by Queen Elizabeth at that time was Robert
Dudley, who afterwards became Earl of Leicester, and much jealousy was
aroused among the members of the council on account of it. Dudley was
married to Amy Robsart, a beautiful and wealthy heiress, who never
appeared at court. For some reason or other she resided in a solitary
country mansion, where she died quite suddenly. It was given out that
an accidental fall had caused it, but there were strong suspicions of
murder, and Robert Dudley was not held entirely innocent of it. However,
no inquiry was instituted, and the queen would hear no complaints of her
favorite. She took occasion to remark publicly that as Dudley was at the
palace when his wife died she was convinced of his innocence.

[[A.D. 1560.]] In 1560 Mistress Montague, her majesty's silk woman,
presented her with a pair of knitted silk stockings, which pleased her
so much that she laid aside forever the cloth kind she had always worn.
{078}A decided change had taken place in the queen's wardrobe, for in
her youth she was noted for the extreme simplicity of her attire; but no
sooner did she ascend the throne than she gave full swing to her vanity,
and purchased more finery than any Queen of England had ever done.
She had three thousand dresses and eighty wigs of different styles and
colors. She was positively loaded down with pearls, jewels, velvets,
furs, and embroidery. Her costumes were neither pretty nor tasteful;
for their object seemed to be nothing but a display of gaudy colors and
showy jewelry.

Elizabeth's court was conducted with great magnificence, and those whose
duty it was to supply the royal household were often guilty of robbing
and imposing upon the farmers. Complaints were made to her majesty, who
always lent a willing ear to her subjects, and invariably compensated
them for their loss. One day, when she was walking in the fields with
her lords and ladies, a sturdy countryman placed himself in her path,
and as she approached called out in a rude, coarse tone: "Which is the
queen?" She turned towards him with an encouraging smile; he repeated
the question, looking from one lady to another, until Elizabeth stepped
forward and said: "I am thy queen; what wouldst thou have with me?"

"You!" exclaimed the man with a look of surprise and admiration. "You
are one of the rarest women I ever saw, and can eat no more than my
daughter Madge, who is thought the finest lass in our parish, though
short of you; but the Queen Elizabeth I look for devours so many of my
hens, ducks, and capons that I am not able to live."

Now Elizabeth was always indulgent to any one who paid her compliments,
but upon inquiry she found this man to be both unjust and dishonest, so
she had him severely punished.

{079}

[Illustration: 0085]

{081}Among the preparations for Easter it was the queen's custom to wash
the feet of twenty poor women, to each of whom she gave a new gown and
the white cup from which she had drank to them. The same afternoon she
appeared in St. James's Park and distributed two thousand silver coins,
valued at eight pence each, among as many poor men, women, and children.
These public acts of charity endeared the sovereign to her people,
for they were always the occasion of a holiday, and gave the humblest
citizens an opportunity of speaking to her. The coins thus bestowed were
worn by the recipients as precious amulets, and handed down in their
families as heirlooms in memory of the gracious queen.

Nobody ever visited the palace on any errand whatsoever without being
invited, according to his station in life, to partake of a meal at one
of the tables. No wonder that Elizabeth was a popular sovereign, and
that her's was called a "golden reign."

In 1560, at great loss to her treasury, she called in all the base coin
that Henry VIII. had caused to be made, and returned to every person the
full value in new sterling silver and gold.

[[A.D. 1561.]] Late in the summer of 1561 Elizabeth made a journey
through her kingdom, and was received with public rejoicings and
displays wherever she went. These _progresses_, as they were called,
occurred several times during Elizabeth's reign, when she was
magnificently entertained at the various mansions of the nobles whom she
honored with her visit.

Queen Elizabeth was so skilled in the art of ruling that she knew a
country was never so sure of enjoying the blessing of peace as when
prepared for war, so she took pains to provide her's with ample means of
defence. She gave orders for gunpowder that had been purchased in other
{082}countries to be manufactured in England. Engineers and arsenals
were furnished for all the fortified towns along the coast and the
Scottish borders; forts were built, garrisons increased, and the wages
of sailors and soldiers doubled. So many ships-of-war were built, and
the navy was increased to such an extent, that after a reign of four
years England could command a fleet with twenty thousand men at arms.
Strangers called Elizabeth "Queen of the Sea;" her own subjects proudly
styled her the restorer of naval glory. {083}




CHAPTER IV.

[[A.D. 1562.]]

|Queen Elizabeth either forgot her promise to the pope, that she would
not interfere with the religion of her subjects, or she was unmindful
of it, for many were persecuted on account of their adherence to
Catholicism. All emblems and pictures of the Catholic church were
abolished; and as the English artists were not permitted to copy the
sacred subjects selected by the Spanish, Italian, and Flemish masters,
pictorial art came to a standstill in England.

It was not on account of religion that the Countess of Lenox, one of the
queen's nearest relations, was arrested and thrown into prison. She was
charged with treason and witchcraft: but the real offence was a secret
correspondence with her niece, the Queen of Scots, whom Elizabeth hated.
She made no secret of this hatred, and was heard to ask "how it was
possible for her to love any one whose interest it was to see her dead."
Nevertheless, she would never acknowledge Mary's right to the throne.
The fact is, that each of these queens would lavish affectionate terms
on the other if the interest or caprice of the moment demanded it; but
each was jealous and suspicious of the other, and each hated the other
in the inmost recesses of her heart. Elizabeth was often urged to
appoint a successor in the event of her death, and if the name of Mary
was mentioned on such an occasion it threw her into a transport of rage.

{084}At last a meeting was planned between the two queens, with the hope
of establishing a better state of feeling; but the defeat of her army
in France under Warwick gave Elizabeth an excuse for postponing the
interview. This defeat was a sore trial to the queen, and besides the
plague had killed off a great number of the soldiers. They brought the
disease home with them, and during the following year twenty thousand
people died of it in London alone.

[[A.D. 1563.]] Meanwhile Lady Lenox had been released from prison, and
was secretly trying to make up a match between Mary Stuart and Lord
Henry Darnley. It was Mary's desire to conciliate Queen Elizabeth just
then, so she sent Sir James Melville to consult her about an offer of
marriage to herself.

While this ambassador was at court Queen Elizabeth appeared in a
different costume each day, and was pleased when he said that he
preferred the Italian style for her because it displayed her yellow
curls to advantage.

She asked him which was the more beautiful, she or Mary Stuart.

"You are the handsomest queen in England," he replied, "and ours the
handsomest queen in Scotland."

"Which of us is the taller?" asked Elizabeth.

"Our queen," said Melville.

"Then she is over-tall," returned Elizabeth; "for I am neither too tall
nor too short."

She next asked how Queen Mary passed her time.

"When I left Scotland, she had just come from a Highland hunt," answered
the ambassador; "but when she has leisure, she reads, and sometimes
plays on the lute and the virginals."

"Does she play well?" asked Elizabeth.

"Reasonably well for a queen," was the reply. {085}Elizabeth had a love
for flattery that could never be satisfied; the most fulsome compliments
were always acceptable, and those who desired favors at her hands knew
the importance of tickling her vanity. It made her unhappy to suspect
that any one could think Mary Stuart, of all women, in any particular
superior to herself. So on the evening after the interview with Lord
Melville she managed to perform on the virginals, when she knew that he
was within hearing. It had the desired effect; for the ambassador raised
the drawing-room curtains to see who the player was, and delighted the
heart of Elizabeth by assuring her that she was a much better musician
than his queen.

Fond as Elizabeth was of popularity she never permitted any one to
interfere with her. Once when Leicester attempted to express an opinion
contrary to her's regarding some state matter, she flew into a passion,
and said: "I will have here but one mistress and no master."

This so humiliated the favorite, who had been treated like a spoiled
child for several years, that he absented himself from court as much as
possible, and finally requested that he might be sent on a diplomatic
mission to France. But Elizabeth would not comply. She told him that it
would be no great honor to the King of France, were she to send him
her groom; then turning to the French ambassador, who was present, she
laughingly added, "I cannot live without seeing him every day; he is
like my lap-dog: so soon as he is seen any where they say I am near at
hand, and wherever I am seen he is expected."

Elizabeth was generally kind and grateful to those who had treated her
well in her youth; but her cruelty towards Doctor Heath, Archbishop of
York, is an exception. The doctor had been of real service to her; but
so determined was she to brook no opposition, that when he refused to
{086}acknowledge her supremacy over the church, she had him shut up in
the Tower, and even put to torture, although he was eighty years of age
at the time.

Temper often got the better of this illustrious queen; and when such
was the case she made coarse, rude speeches to her attendants as well as
members of parliament, which she regretted in calmer moments.

[[A.D. 1564.]] When parliament urged her to marry she answered, "That if
they would attend to their own business she would perform her's." Such
discourteous speeches won for her a reprimand, which put her in such a
rage that she refused to give satisfaction upon any question that was
laid before her. Later she made a conciliatory speech and said: "That
her successor might perhaps be more wise and learned than she, but one
more careful of the country's weal they could not have." She bade them
"beware how they again tried their sovereign's patience as they had
done."

Dr. Dee, the conjuror, spent much time at court, and received many
favors from the queen, who even condescended to visit him at his
own house. He had a mirror in which he pretended to read the queen's
destiny, and showed her his laboratory where he was concocting an elixir
of life for her special use. Elizabeth believed in him, granted him
her protection, and finally appointed him Chancellor of St. Paul's
Cathedral. He spent many years at his foolish trickery, but it is
certain that he produced no compound either for rejuvenating the queen
or for prolonging her life.

[[A.D. 1567.]] In 1567 Lord Darnley, who had become Queen Mary's
husband, was mysteriously murdered. Lord Bothwell, who was known to be
in love with Mary, was accused of the crime, in which there was strong
grounds for suspicion that Mary herself assisted. Elizabeth took

{087}

[Illustration: 0093]

{089}pains to express no opinion about this matter; but she, no doubt,
believed, as all Europe did, in Mary's guilt. She took it upon herself
to announce to the Countess of Lenox the fearful catastrophe that had
befallen her son, and did so in a considerate and sympathetic manner,
which formed a contrast to her former cruelty.

Bothwell was tried, but his guilt could not be proved, and three
months after Lord Darnley's death he and Mary Stuart were married. This
shameful conduct horrified the Scottish people, and they rose in arms
against their queen.

Within a month after the marriage Bothwell was obliged to fly for his
life, and Mary was imprisoned in Lochleven Castle.

Elizabeth may not have regretted the downfall of Mary Stuart; but when
she heard of her being a captive, subject to insults and abuse from her
own people, her heart was touched, and she interposed with the Scottish
nobles in behalf of the unfortunate queen. Her appeal had some weight,
but Mary was compelled to sign a deed of abdication in favor of her son.

[[A.D. 1568.]] A year after Lord Darnley's death Mary made her escape
to England, and sought Elizabeth's protection. She crossed the Frith of
Solway in a fishing-boat, and was conducted to Carlisle, where, though
treated with respect, she soon discovered that she was once more a
prisoner.

Elizabeth's treacherous behavior towards the erring, dethroned queen who
had placed herself in her power was a crime that has left a foul stain
on her memory. But she had to pay the penalty; for as most of the Roman
Catholics in the British Isles regarded Mary as the rightful Queen
of England, the realm was filled with plots, revolts, and secret
confederacies that kept her mind constantly on the rack. Mary begged for
permission to seek protection in some {090}other country; but Elizabeth
secretly enjoyed the humiliation of her enemy, and was too cautious to
restore the liberty of one whom she had ill treated.

Consequently the royal prisoner was removed to Bolton Castle, a gloomy
fortress, where she was subjected to most cruel indignities. She was
closely watched; and Elizabeth's ministers, particularly Burleigh
and Leicester, reported every action that could be distorted into the
appearance of treason. Any partisan of Mary's that could be attacked
was speedily brought to trial, and scaffolds streamed with the innocent
blood of many a victim. Elizabeth's popularity was on the wane, and
her numerous acts of injustice, that laid low the heads of some of the
noblest men and women of her realm, rendered her an object of hatred for
the time being.

[[A.D. 1570.]] She was thirty-seven years old when Catherine de Medicis
proposed her marriage with Henry of Anjou, the French prince, who was
twenty years younger than the English queen.

Catherine was one of the worst women that ever lived, and knew that such
a union would be perfectly ridiculous; but she was so anxious to secure
the crown of the Tudors and Plantagenets for her son that she pretended
sincere affection for Elizabeth, and was capable of any deception,
intrigue, or even crime to gain her point. Elizabeth, on the other
hand, had such an exalted opinion of her own perfections that she would
acknowledge no obstacle to the union but religion. In reality, she was
too sensible not to be conscious of the absurdity of uniting herself to
a youth of seventeen, but kept the matter pending for many months for
the purpose of gaining the good-will of France, and of thus preventing
that country from taking steps against her in the affairs of Scotland
and towards the release of Mary. {091}Young Henry remained passive for
a long time, counting on Elizabeth's caprice and insincerity for his
own escape; but when the French ambassador informed him that she was
disposed to consent to the alliance, he declared that he would not go to
England unless he could be allowed the public profession of the Catholic
religion. Of course, that could not be thought of; so, to spare herself
the indignity of being jilted, Elizabeth announced her determination
never to marry at all.

Meanwhile the Duke of Norfolk united with others in forming a plot for
the liberation of Queen Mary and the assassination of Elizabeth. It was
discovered, and led to the imprisonment and torture of a large number
of people. The queen declared that she would never release Mary, and
ordered the execution of the duke. But parliament assured her "that she
must lay the axe to the root of the evil, for she would have neither
rest nor security while the Queen of Scots was in existence."

"What!" she exclaimed, "Can I put to death the bird, that to escape
the pursuit of the hawk, has fled to my feet for protection? Honor and
conscience forbid!"

[[A.D. 1572.]] Queen Elizabeth was making a visit at Kenilworth
Castle in the summer of 1572, and enjoying the festivities prepared
by Leicester, when news arrived of that most horrible, most atrocious
massacre of St. Bartholomew in France. The tales of horror, related by
those Huguenots who were fortunate enough to escape from the hands of
their pitiless persecutors and seek shelter in England, aroused the
indignation of the Britons to such a degree that they thirsted to take
up arms against the blood-stained Charles IX.,--that midnight assassin
of his own subjects.

But the very people who most warmly condemned the treachery and cruelty
of the French now clamored for the {092}blood of Mary Stuart, in revenge
for the slaughtered Protestants. Burleigh and Leicester terrified
the queen with rumors of plots which had their origin with the royal
captive, until she became convinced that her life was in peril.

After leaving Kenilworth Castle, Elizabeth made her usual summer
_progress_, and was sumptuously entertained in each county where she
halted. She received presents ranging from the richest jewels to
such useful articles as gloves, handkerchiefs, stockings, and even
night-dresses, and night-caps. Sir Philip Sidney, the accomplished
soldier and statesman, wrote a poem in honor of the queen, that he
recited at one of the entertainments, and then presented her with a
cambric frock, the sleeves and collar of which were worked in black
silk, and edged with gold and silver lace, and an open worked ruff set
with spangles.

One day when the queen was in her barge near Greenwich a gun was
discharged from a neighboring boat, the bullet passing through both arms
of a rower who stood near her. Every one was shocked, but Elizabeth did
not lose her presence of mind for an instant. Throwing her scarf to the
man she bade him "to be of good cheer, for he should never want, for the
bullet was meant for her though it had hit him." When the owner of the
gun was examined he persisted that it had gone off by accident. The
queen pardoned him, and said openly: "That she would never believe
anything against her subjects that loving parents would not believe of
their children."

It was generally thought that Elizabeth was a woman of courage, but
once; although she suffered agony from toothache for several days and
nights, she would not submit to having the tooth extracted until the old
Bishop of London consented to a similar operation in her presence.

[[A.D. 1580.]] In 1580 officials were stationed, by the queen's orders,
at the corners of the streets with shears in {093}their hands to cut off
any ruff that exceeded her's in size; they were, besides, to shorten
the swords of all the gentlemen who wore longer ones than she had
stipulated. The French ambassador protested, and insisted upon wearing
his sword as long as he pleased. No doubt he thought his taste quite as
good as the queen's,--particularly when he beheld her riding behind six
light-gray Hungarian horses, with their manes and tails dyed deep-orange
color.

The same year Francis Drake returned from his voyage of discovery around
the world. Elizabeth honored him with a visit on board his vessel, and
knighted him for the courage, skill, and perseverance he had displayed.

Much anxiety and alarm were felt in England about this time on account
of political plots and rumors of conspiracies against the queen's life;
and the Catholic subjects, most of whom were ready to raise the standard
of revolt in the name of Mary Stuart, were treated with such severity
that those who could escape sought homes in foreign lands. Many noblemen
were executed or put to the torture. Ambassadors from France were
entertained with all the splendor that the English court could
produce, for the queen delighted in thus impressing foreign visitors;
but whenever they ventured to intercede for the Queen of Scots, they
were met with an uncontrollable outburst of rage.

Since Elizabeth had decided to remain single she would not give her
consent to the marriage of any lady or gentleman connected with her
court. But Leicester had married again in spite of her, and had thus
placed himself under a cloud. He excited the royal displeasure still
further when he was acting as military commander in the Low countries,
on account of the regal airs he assumed. He even went so far as to
express his intention to hold a court that should rival in display
that of England. On hearing of {094}it, Elizabeth not only forbade
Leicester's wife to join him, but cut off his supplies of money, saying:
"I will let the upstart know how easily the hand that has exalted him
can beat him down to the dust."

Sir Walter Raleigh had succeeded Leicester in Elizabeth's esteem, and of
course excited the bitter jealousy of the deposed favorite. Raleigh
was the younger son of a country gentleman of small fortune. He was a
soldier, seaman, statesman, poet, philosopher, and wit. His grace and
beauty rendered him particularly attractive to Elizabeth, who never
could bear a homely person among her attendants. One day her majesty
went out for a walk after a heavy rain; arriving at a muddy gutter she
stopped to consider how to get across, when Sir-Walter, with courteous
presence of mind, pulled off a handsome plush cloak that he wore for the
first time, and spread it on the ground for the queen to walk over. She
accepted the attention with pleasure, and rewarded the gentleman with
several new cloaks in place of the one he had ruined for her sake.

It is to Sir Walter Raleigh that England is indebted for her first
possession in America, which, in compliment to his queen's unmarried
state, he named Virginia; and it was he who introduced tobacco into
England from the newly discovered coast.

On one occasion he was enjoying the weed himself, when his servant
entered with a tankard of ale. Seeing his master enveloped in smoke,
that proceeded from his lips, the simple fellow supposed that some
internal fire was destroying his vitals, so he dashed the contents of
the tankard full into Sir Walter's face, and then ran down stairs to
alarm the family before the smoker should be reduced to ashes.

It was Raleigh who first presented the poet Spenser to the queen, and
she was so charmed with his poetic genius that she gave him a thousand
pounds. In return, he made

{095}

[Illustration: 0101]

{097}her the heroine of several poems, and personified her in three
different characters in his celebrated work, entitled the "Faerie
Queen."

[[A.D. 1586.]] Another plot to assassinate the queen was laid at Mary
Stuart's door, and the councillors repeated their demands for her
execution. But Elizabeth shrank from appearing directly to bring an
anointed sovereign to the block, though she did not hesitate to subject
her to every species of quiet cruelty. Mary was kept in damp, unhealthy
apartments, deprived of exercise, and on several occasions compelled to
rise from a sick-bed to travel, in the depth of winter, from one prison
to another. Her health became seriously impaired, but that had no effect
on Elizabeth; and an insulting letter addressed to her by the royal
prisoner did not tend to soften her heart.

At last Mary was induced by spies, who pretended to-be her friends, to
write to the French and Spanish ambassadors requesting aid from their
governments. These letters were intercepted and shown to the queen. Many
of Mary's partisans were arrested; and Walsingham, one of the ministers,
published a full account of the preparations France and Spain were
making to invade England--where, upon landing, their troops would be
joined by all the <DW7>s of the realm.

This excited the indignation of the populace to the utmost degree, and
both foreign and native Catholics were in danger in consequence; even
the ambassadors were insulted in their houses. Every heart now warmed
towards the queen; and when the conspirators were discovered and locked
up in the Tower, the event was celebrated by the lighting of bonfires
and ringing of bells.

At last it was decided that Mary Stuart should have a trial, if so
perfect a farce merits that name. Elizabeth had said publicly that she
considered the Scottish queen un- {098}worthy of counsel, and that was
in itself enough to condemn her without a trial.

When the commissioners arrived at Fotheringay, and ordered Mary to
appear before them, she refused to acknowledge their authority; but
they were armed with a letter from Elizabeth, which she was compelled to
obey.

Mary's deportment in this trying emergency was spirited and adroit. She
told the commissioners "that she had endeavored to gain her liberty,
and would continue to do so as long as she lived; but that she had never
plotted against the life of the queen."

[Illustration: 0104]

After pleading for herself for two days, Mary demanded to be heard
before the parliament of England, or the queen herself and her
council. The court was then adjourned, the whole proceeding reported to
Elizabeth, and twelve days later sentence of death was pronounced on the
Scottish {099}queen. At the next meeting of parliament it was urged that
the sentence should be carried into effect.

At this period Elizabeth behaved with her characteristic selfishness.
She was anxious for Mary's death, and felt no pity for the object of
her fury; but she feared to appear before the world as the author of the
revenge upon which she was bent, and sought to make parliament share the
odium of her deed.

The Kings of France and Scotland interceded for Mary and increased
Elizabeth's irresolution; but Leicester and Walsingham, well knowing
what their fate would be should Elizabeth chance to die, and thus make
way for Mary to the throne of England, kept urging their sovereign to
sign the death-warrant. At last she yielded; but no sooner had she done
so than she fell into a state of melancholy, and secretly urged one
of the castellans of Fotheringay to murder his hapless charge. She was
willing to resort to any means of getting Mary out of the way, providing
she could preserve her own reputation by putting the blame on others.
But she was not to be gratified, and on the 8th of February the
execution took place in due form. Not one of the council had the courage
to inform the queen that the bloody deed was accomplished. In the
evening she asked "what meant the bonfires and the merry ringing of
the bells?" The answer stunned her for a moment; then she burst into
a passionate fit of weeping, sharply rebuked her council and bade them
quit her sight at once, saying that she had never commanded nor intended
the execution of Mary Stuart.

This may have been hypocrisy; but more likely it was remorse for a
needless, outrageous, barbarous act.

Elizabeth wrote to James VI. of Scotland, professing her innocence of
the "miserable accident," as she was pleased to term the murder of
his mother, and assuring {100}him of her affection for himself. To
the French ambassador she said that the death of her kinswoman was the
greatest misfortune of her life, and that although she had signed the
death-warrant to gratify her subjects, she had never meant to carry it
into effect. She added that her council had played her a trick which
would have cost them their heads, did she not believe that they had
acted for the welfare of herself and the state. After Mary Stuart's
death there seemed to be an end to conspiracies for a while, and no
very important event occupied the queen's mind until she began to make
preparations to defend herself against the invasion of the grand Spanish
army, called the Invincible Armada. She showed herself on this occasion
worthy to be the queen and heroine of a nation that were eager to prove
their devotion and loyalty.

[[A.D. 1588.]] The despised, disgraced Earl of Leicester, who had
by this time regained his place in the royal favor, was appointed
commander-in-chief of the army at Tilbury. Lord Hunsdon commanded the
queen's body-guard for the defence of London, and Sir Francis Drake was
appointed vice-admiral.

Elizabeth took up her abode at Havering Bower, a place selected for her
by Leicester, situated between the rear and van of her army. There
she appeared as warrior and queen. Mounted on a noble charger, with
a general's truncheon in her hand, a polished steel corselet over her
magnificent apparel, and a page in attendance bearing her white plumed
helmet, she rode bareheaded from rank to rank, addressing her soldiers
with words of encouragement and hope. She was greeted with loud shouts
of applause by her admiring subjects, who felt it an honor to fight for
such a noble, courageous sovereign.

The Spaniards had flattered themselves that with an army equipped as
their's was it would require only one {101}fight by sea and one on land
to achieve the conquest of England; but they soon found their mistake,
and not a single Spaniard set foot on English soil except as a prisoner.

The Spanish Armada was soon scattered, and victory was declared for
England.

Immense crowds gathered to welcome the queen on her return to
Westminster. She was then fifty-five years of age, at the height of her
glory, and beloved by her subjects, whom she had ruled for thirty years,
and who had united, one and all, Catholic and Protestant, to support her
in vindicating the honor of England.

Her first act was to reward her brave commanders and provide for the
wounded seamen. Upon Leicester she would have bestowed the highest
office ever held by an English subject,--that of lord-lieutenant
of England and Ireland; but, much to the satisfaction of the other
statesmen, he died before the patent could be made out. A series of
thanksgivings were observed in London to commemorate the victory, and
the queen was presented with a number of rich and valuable gifts.

Queen Elizabeth was never an idle woman. Long before day, in winter,
she transacted business with her Secretaries of state, heard public
documents, and gave her orders concerning them. After breakfast she
would promenade in her garden or the corridors of the palace, as the
weather prompted, attended by some learned gentlemen of the court, with
whom she discussed intellectual topics, and a portion of each day was
devoted to study.

She observed strictly all the fast-days prescribed by the church. She
was a moderate eater, and seldom drank anything but beer; when she dined
in public the table was magnificently spread, with a profusion of costly
plate, for she was fond of displaying her riches, particularly before
{102}foreign ambassadors. Her cup-bearer always served her on his knees,
and music and singing accompanied the banquet.

At supper, when the cares of the day were over, the queen would chat
freely and pleasantly with her court, and the evenings were passed with
chess-playing, music, or recitations and stories by the famous comedian,
Tarleton, and others. She was fond of apes and dogs, but, beyond all, of
children, with whom she loved to talk and amuse herself.

As a rule, Elizabeth treated her attendants well; but when her temper
got the upper hand, which was not seldom, she descended to the level
of a common virago, and more than once struck some maid of honor for
a trifling offence. But these outbursts of rage were reserved for the
people of the palace; her other subjects witnessed only sweetness and
good humor.

Her impulses were good, as she proved in the case of Margaret Lambrun, a
Scottish woman, whose husband was supposed to have died of grief because
of the tragic fate of the Queen of Scots, in whose service he was.
Margaret took the desperate resolution to avenge his death; so,
disguised in male attire, she proceeded, with a concealed brace of
pistols, to the English court, with the intention of killing the queen
with one and herself with the other. One day, when her majesty was
walking in the garden of the palace, Margaret made her way through
the crowd so as to get near enough to make sure of her aim, but in her
excitement she dropped one of the pistols. She was instantly seized,
and would have been hurried away to prison but Elizabeth said "she would
examine the young man herself."

[[A.D. 1589.]] When brought before her Margaret bravely acknowledged
who she was, her intended action, and its cause. The queen heard her
patiently; then not

{103}

[Illustration: 0109]

{105}only granted her a full pardon, but provided her with an escort to
France, as she had requested.

Many persecutions on the score of religion succeeded the victory over
the Spanish Armada, and one of the greatest grievances of Elizabeth's
reign was known as the privy seal loans. Whenever an individual was
known to have amassed a sum of money her majesty's ministers would
borrow for the royal treasury. To be sure, they paid a liberal interest;
but there was no security for the principal, besides the sovereign's
promise to pay, which, it is easy to see, would have been valueless in
the event of death.

After the death of Leicester, Essex, who had been created Knight of the
Garter, succeeded to the queen's favor; but while she was showing him
the utmost consideration he excited her wrath by marrying the widow of
Sir Philip Sidney, the illustrious soldier and statesman, who had been
killed at the battle of Zutphen. He was at once replaced by Sir Robert
Cecil, and when Henry III. sent to England for aid to defend himself
against the Spanish invaders, he injured his cause by saying that Essex
approved of his demand; for Elizabeth replied, "That the Earl of Essex
would have it thought that he ruled the realm, but that nothing was more
untrue; that she would make him the most pitiful fellow in the realm,
and instead of sending the King of France more troops, she would recall
all those she had already lent him." Having said this she haughtily
swept out of the room, and would have nothing further to say to the
ambassador.

[[A.D. 1592.]] Later, when Essex showed prompt obedience at the
queen's command for his return to England, she was so pleased that she
entertained him with feasts, and sent him back to France honored with
the highest distinction. Every request he made was granted almost before
{106}it was considered. Nevertheless, Elizabeth's capricious nature
asserted itself when Ireland was in a state of revolt, and there was
difficulty in finding some one to fill the post of lord-deputy over the
distracted country. On that occasion Essex peremptorily insisted
that Sir George Carew was the proper man for the office, whereupon,
forgetting how by numerous indulgences she had encouraged him to speak
freely, Elizabeth felt so offended at his positive tone that she lost
her self-control, and giving him a sound box on the ear, bade him "go
and be hanged."

Essex was so indignant that he swore a horrible oath, and impertinently
adding something about "a king in petticoats."

Later the royal mind was changed again, and he was sent as lord-deputy
to Ireland.

While there, he was so unmindful of the queen's orders that he was
accused of treason, and on his return shut up in the Tower. He had many
enemies, and Cecil so prejudiced the queen and her court against him
that he was condemned to die.

[[A.D. 1601.]] Elizabeth hesitated as long as possible before signing
his death-warrant. She had given Essex a ring when he was in favor, with
the promise that if ever he offended her the sight of that token would
insure forgiveness. The imprisoned statesman did send the ring by a boy
who chanced to pass his prison window one morning; but by an unlucky
accident it fell into the hands of the lord-admiral, a deadly foe of
Essex, who said nothing about it. The queen concluding that her former
favorite was too proud to sue for forgiveness, because the ring she had
been expecting did not reach her, ordered the execution to proceed.

The English nation could not forgive the death of the generous and
gallant nobleman, and the queen was no

{107}

[Illustration: 0113]

{109}longer received with cheers when she appeared in public. She did
not fail to notice the change in her subject's feelings towards her, and
this made her excessively unhappy. A deep depression took possession
of her, and though she tried to appear gay her heart was very heavy.
Several attempts were made on her life from time to time as she advanced
in years, but fortunately each was frustrated.

Literature made rapid strides during Queen Elizabeth's reign,
particularly all that was written in Italian, which language her majesty
understood well. Many dramatists rose to distinction at this period, the
greatest being William Shakspeare. Spenser and Sir Philip Sidney added
lustre to this reign also.

Elizabeth's last parliament was summoned in the autumn of 1601. She
performed the ceremony with more than her customary display; but she was
in such feeble health as to be unable to support the weight of the royal
robes, and she was actually sinking to the ground when a nobleman, who
stood near, caught her and supported her in his arms. She rallied and
went through the fatiguing ceremony with her usual dignity and grace.

The science of medicine was in such a rude condition in the sixteenth
century that the wealthy were treated with doses of pulverized jewels
or gold. The poor had the best of it; for they were obliged to depend on
herbs and ointments which certainly must have been more efficacious.

Queen Elizabeth had so little confidence in doctors or their
prescriptions that she could not be induced to consult them even when
she was very ill.

[[A.D. 1603.]] Her last sickness began in March, 1603, and when she was
urged to seek medical aid, she angrily replied: "That she knew her own
constitution better than anybody else, and that she was not in such
danger as they imagined." She grew worse, however, and died two weeks
{110}later, in the seventieth year of her age, and the forty-fourth of
her reign.

She was buried in Westminster Abbey in the same grave with her sister.
Mary Tudor. Her successor, James I., erected a monument to her memory.
On a slab of pure white marble the effigy of this remarkable queen lies
beneath a stately canopy. Her head rests on embroidered cushions, her
feet on a couchant lion. Royal robes hang around her form in classic
folds, and her closely curled hair is covered with a simple cap. She has
no crown, the sceptre has been broken from one hand, also the cross from
the imperial orb which she holds in the other.

That learned English philosopher, Lord Bacon, has written of Queen
Elizabeth: "She was pious, moderate, constant, and an enemy to novelty.
She hated vice, and studied to preserve an honorable name. No age has
ever produced her like for the government of a kingdom."

{111}

[Illustration: 0117]

{113}




CHAPTER V.

ANNE OF DENMARK, QUEEN-CONSORT OF JAMES THE FIRST.

(A.D. 1575-1618.)

|Anne of Denmark was certainly less intellectual than some of her
predecessors, and on many occasions showed herself wanting in judgment
and common sense; but her political position was of immense importance,
because she was the wife of the first monarch who ruled over the whole
of the British isles. The Orkney and Shetland islands had fallen into
the hands of the Danish King during the preceding century, and were
yielded to James VI. of Scotland on condition of his marrying the
Princess Anne.

These islands were of value because of their geographical position; for
they had become the rendezvous of pirates, who found them convenient
headquarters whence their raids could be made along the British coast.

Princess Anne's parents were Frederic II. of Denmark, one of the
richest princes of Europe, and Sophia, a woman loved and admired for her
domestic virtues. These royal parents had such luxurious ideas about
the rearing of their children that although Anne was a strong, healthy
child, well-formed in every respect, she was never permitted to walk
until she was nine years of age.

[[A.D 1585.]] Negotiations for her marriage began when she was ten; and
then it was thought proper to teach her to sew, read, and dance, before
she could be regarded as an accomplished maid. {114}James VI. was born
at Edinburgh Castle, but the poor little unfortunate was early deprived
of parental care; for while he was yet a baby his father, Lord Darnley,
was killed, and his luckless mother, Mary Stuart, was forced to seek
refuge in England.

At the early age of fourteen months James was proclaimed King of
Scotland. On that occasion the Earl of Marr, his guardian, carried the
infant in procession and placed him on the throne; another peer held the
crown above his head, while a third placed the globe and sceptre in his
little hands, and Lord Marr repeated the necessary oath in the name of
the little one, who was then carried back to his nursery.

Of course little James was only king in name, for many years would have
to pass before he would be fit to undertake the reins of government.
Meanwhile, his uncle, the Earl of Murray, was appointed to act as
regent. Unfortunately for the young king, he had a nurse who was by no
means capable of taking charge of him, for she drank to excess and
never controlled him or his diet properly. The consequence was that he
developed slowly, and was such a weakling that he was full five years
old before he could walk, and throughout his life his limbs were never
as strong as they ought to have been. This defect may have been partly
due, however, to the absurd manner of dressing infants three centuries
ago in Scotland; for as soon as they were born they were swathed in
bandages, with their arms bound down to their side and their legs close
together and straight out, precisely after the manner of an Egyptian
mummy. Is it any wonder that they were long in discovering the use of
their limbs? In some parts of Germany babies are subjected to this
cruel swaddling to the present day, but the arms are left free, and
fortunately the custom is gradually going out of favor.

{115}

[Illustration: 0121]

{117}Though backward in the use of his legs, little James talked
wonderfully well, and soon learned to ask questions that were difficult
to answer, and to make remarks that often seemed most profound for one
of his age

[[A.D. 1571.]] He was just four years when he was called upon to perform
regal duty by convening parliament. The Earl of Marr carried him to the
grand Gothic hall of Stirling Castle, and placed him on the throne. He
seemed impressed at the numerous assemblage of lords and gentlemen, but
looked around as though to familiarize himself with the scene, and when
the proper time came recited the speech that had been drilled into him
beforehand. But he added a little impromptu speech of his own, for his
eyes rested on a hole in the canopy above the throne, and he exclaimed
aloud in his childish voice: "There is _ane_ hole in this parliament."
In the present day such a remark from the lips of a little boy might
excite a smile, but certainly no great importance would be attached to
it, but in the year 1571 the Scotch were very superstitious, and so
they gazed at the infant monarch with amazement. "What could he possibly
mean?" asked the wise lords of one another; for they never for one
moment doubted that the spirit of prophesy had prompted the remark, and
that the king foresaw an awful decrease in their numbers to be made by
death.

In the course of the year the Earl of Lenox, James's grandfather, was
killed, and that justified the royal child's remark in the eyes of the
superstitious. The old earl was on his way to visit James, when he was
stabbed in the back by conspirators. The brave Earl of Marr, attracted
by the dying man's groans, rushed out from Stirling Castle with his
servants and carried him to a place of safety. "Is the babe attacked?"
asked the old man, and on being assured that he alone was the sufferer,
he replied, with a sigh of {118}relief, "Then all is well," and died
soon after with perfect resignation.

The Earl of Marr was tutor to the king until he died, when he was
succeeded by George Buchanan, a bad, morose, capricious man, who had
such rigid ideas with regard to discipline that old Lady Marr, the
earl's mother, often wept on account of his cruel treatment towards his
pupil.

James had been removed to Stirling Castle during his infancy, and there
he passed his youth. His favorite companion was Thomas Erskine, his
foster-brother, who happened to be born on the same day as the young
king, whose cradle and sports he shared. Another playmate was the young
Earl of Marr, for whom James formed an attachment so warm and true that
it lasted to the end of his life.

[[A.D. 1577.]] The civil and religious wars that were raging in Scotland
had their effect on the young king, and, to some extent, appear to have
injured his character; for he was, in consequence, under the control of
some people whose influence was bad, and prompted him to authoritative
manners that were out of place in one so young, and made him appear in a
false light.

As he grew older he would at times pretend to be an imbecile, merely
from a spirit of perversity; but he was neither a fool nor a coward, as
he proved later.

He was only sixteen years of age when the Earl of Gowrie captured
him, but he managed to make his escape and seek the protection of his
great-uncle, the Earl of March. A revolution succeeded, and Gowrie was
beheaded soon after.

[[A.D. 1580.]] Three years later, Frederic II. of Denmark sent
ambassadors to Scotland to offer to the young king the hand of his
second daughter in marriage. Queen {119}Elizabeth opposed this alliance
so violently that the marriage-treaty was delayed several years. She
ought to have been pleased at the prospect of a Protestant wife for the
future King of England, but it was her peculiarity to break off every
match that she could influence.

Meanwhile, Henry of Navarre offered his sister Catherine for a wife to
James; but as she was many years older than the young king, and as
Anne of Denmark was just sixteen, and a miniature that had been sent
to Scotland represented her as being very beautiful, the decision was
quickly made in her favor.

Before the necessary arrangements could be completed her father, King
Frederic, died.

[[A.D. 1589.]] The Earl-marischal of Scotland, accompanied by other
dignitaries, proceeded, as proxies for James, with a noble fleet, to
claim the young princess and carry her to Scotland. They were received
with great joy by Queen Sophia, who, with Princess Anne, met them at
the fortress of Corenburg. There the bride embarked on board a ship
commanded by the Danish admiral, Peter Munch, who, with a fleet of
eleven other fine ships, set sail for Scotland. It was in the month of
September, and the sea was so rough that although the squadron sighted
land in due season contrary winds blew them to the coast of Norway.
Instead of attributing this occurrence to natural causes, Peter Munch
was in a dreadful state of perplexity, and began to consider what
witches he had offended to such an extent as to induce them to raise the
winds and waves so that he could not bring the young queen to Scotland.
Suddenly it occurred to him that he had boxed the ears of an officer at
Copenhagen, whose wife was a well-known witch. He felt satisfied then
that in order to avenge the insult to her husband the witch-wife had
tampered with the winds, and so the unfortunate creature was burnt
alive when he got back home. {120}Having once determined that they were
bewitched, nothing went well with the fleet, and a series of disasters
reduced ten of the ships to such a deplorable condition that they
returned to Denmark. The one in which the queen had sailed took refuge
in a harbor on the coast of Norway, where, as the cold weather had
already set in, there was every prospect that the bride would have to
stay all the winter. She wrote an account of her sufferings to the King
of Scotland, which a young Dane undertook to deliver in spite of witches
and weather.

While expecting his wife King James had made grand preparations for her
reception, and he was so disappointed at her delay that he resolved to
go himself to fetch her. Now this was a brave undertaking, for the best
ship that could be furnished was a miserable bark, scarcely fit to brave
the wintry storms of the German ocean; however, a prosperous breeze
favored the courageous king until he approached the Norwegian coast.
He had enjoyed four days of fine weather, but on the fifth a furious
tempest sprang up, and for twenty-four hours the royal bark was in
danger of wreck. At last she ran into a little harbor, where King James
landed.

After several days' travelling through snow and ice, he reached the
village where Anne had established herself, and without waiting for the
ceremonies of his rank and station, he left his attendants and marched
straight to the presence of his bride. On the following Sunday they
were married, and the king immediately, and very thoughtfully, sent a
messenger over the mountains to Denmark to inform Queen Sophia of his
arrival and marriage with the princess.

Her majesty then invited the newly-wedded pair to make her a visit. They
consented, and set out upon a journey beset with so many hardships that
they were obliged to {121}halt several times before they reached the
Castle of Croenburg, where all the royal family of Denmark had assembled
to meet them.

All was gayety and splendor at the rich court, where the marriage of
James and Anne was celebrated over again according to the Lutheran
rites. Nothing interfered with their pleasure, excepting the quarrelsome
spirit of the Scottish nobles who had accompanied the king. They all
drank too freely, his majesty included, and there were frequent brawls
and strifes among them.

It was not until after the wedding of Queen Anne's sister Elizabeth to
the Duke of Brunswick, which took place early in the spring, that the
Scottish bride and groom thought of proceeding to their future home.

The royal family of Denmark entertained such a warm affection for one
another that when the moment of parting arrived it was a sore trial for
the young queen to bid farewell to her loving mother, as well as to the
young king, her brother, who was so fond of her that in later years he
paid several long visits at her court.

The royal fleet sailed from Croenburg in April, and when the bridal
pair landed a large crowd of faithful subjects assembled to welcome them
to Scotland.

Shortly after, preparations for the queen's coronation were begun. On
the Tuesday preceding that ceremony her majesty made her state-entry
into the city of Edinburgh, riding in a richly gilt car, lined with
crimson velvet; on either side of her sat her favorite Danish maids of
honor. The king rode on horseback just in front of the queen's carriage,
and a train of robles escorted the royal couple to Holyrood. The
coronation ceremony was performed on the following Sunday at the Abbey
church of Holyrood.

On the following Tuesday, accompanied by the king and {122}all the lords
and ladies who had assisted at her coronation, the queen passed through
the streets of Edinburgh in an open coach.

At the end of a month passed in all sorts of festivities and rejoicings,
the Danish visitors returned home, and Queen Anne went to live at
Dunfermline Palace, which had been renovated and refurnished to suit her
taste.

As the young queen's knowledge of household arrangements was necessarily
limited, and as she was inexperienced concerning the customs of her new
country, the king advised her always to consult his faithful friend and
loyal subject, Sir James Melville, who held a high position in the royal
household.

With the perversity that she showed on many occasions throughout her
reign Queen Anne immediately took a decided aversion to Melville, and
never in any emergency sought his advice.

There had been no queen at the Scottish court for a quarter of a
century, consequently the men surrounding it had become so course and
brutal in their manners that it was necessary to make many changes, and
even to dismiss some of the most faithful officials before ladies could
feel safe or comfortable.

[[A.D. 1590.]] Among the reformations that were taking place in
Scotland, the destruction of all the works of art in the churches
were deemed necessary; but no steps were taken to abolish the horrible
superstition that led to the burning of hecatombs of witches. More than
half the time of the judges was occupied with their absurd confessions.
One of the most remarkable of these witches was Annis Simpson, called
by her neighbors "the wise wife of Keith." She declared that she had
a familiar spirit, who appeared in a visible form at her call, and
informed her whether people who were ill or exposed to danger should

{123}

[Illustration: 0129]

{125}live or die. The king asked her what words she used to summon the
spirit. She replied: "That she merely called ''Holla, master!' and he
came without fail." Then she proceeded to describe one of the witch
meetings which, she said, was held at night in a church, where the devil
in a long black gown, with a hat on his head, preached from the pulpit
to an audience of witches. She added, furthermore, that one man got his
ears boxed by the preacher because he thanked God that no harm had come
to the king, though many had been injured. Thereupon the devil solemnly
pronounced this sentence: "_Il est un homme de Dieu_." This was the
more firmly credited because the woman did not understand what the words
meant; therefore, it was argued, she could not have invented them. James
was immensely flattered at being called a man of God by the evil spirit.

"The wise wife of Keith" was first strangled, and then burned in company
with others whom she had accused.

[[A.D. 1592.]] One summer when Queen Anne was visiting at her palace
of Falkland, Bothwell, a relation of the earl who was Mary Stuart's
husband, made a furious attack on it. He was repulsed, but entered the
stables and carried off all the horses. The queen was so annoyed at
this rude adventure that she removed at once to Dalkeith. Margaret
Twineslace, one of the Danish maids of honor, was engaged to be married
to John Wemys, one of the king's gentlemen, who was known to be in
constant communication with Bothwell. He was, therefore, suspected of
knowing, at least, that the attack on Falkland was to take place, though
there was no proof of his having participated. Still he was shut up in
the guard-room of Dalkeith Castle, and every one thought his life was in
danger.

One night, when it was Margaret's turn to sleep in the queen's
bed-chamber, she waited until the royal pair were {126}in the land of
Nod, then softly stole out and went to her lover's prison, where she
told the guard that the king had sent her to command them to lead John
Wemys forthwith to the queen's apartment, where his majesty wished to
question him. Never, for a moment, suspecting that they were deceived,
two sentinels led the prisoner to the queen's chamber door. Margaret
then charged them to remain outside quietly, and taking her lover by the
hand, led him boldly into the room and closed the door. Without speaking
a word she softly opened the window, and, presenting John with a rope,
helped him to let himself down and escape.

The guard waited patiently until morning dawned, then raised the alarm,
which led to the discovery of the little trick. The queen laughed
heartily when she heard how Wemys had escaped, and begged the king to
pardon him.

James himself was amused at the adventure, and issued a proclamation
offering pardon to the escaped prisoner if he would return to his
duties. This he did within a few days, and soon after married the Danish
maid-of-honor who had risked so much for his sake.

[[A.D. 1594.]] In 1594 Queen Anne had a little son born at Stirling
Castle. He was baptized according to the Episcopal ritual of Scotland,
and named Henry-Frederic. The ceremony was conducted with great pomp,
and after it was over the queen received all the foreign ambassadors.
They brought costly presents, and Queen Elizabeth sent a set of silver
and several cups of massive gold, so heavy that Sir James Melville
declared he could hardly lift them.

The young queen loved her little son so tenderly that when she found it
was her husband's intention to leave him at Stirling Castle to be cared
for by the Earl of Marr and the old countess, his mother, she was sorely
grieved {127}and begged that she might keep the child with her. But the
king refused, saying, "that he knew the infant was in safe keeping with
Marr, and though he doubted nothing of her good intentions, yet if some
faction got strong enough she could not hinder his boy from being used
against him, as he himself had been against his unfortunate mother."

No doubt Anne ought to have been satisfied to make a virtue of
necessity; but she could not understand any argument but that of her own
heart, which prompted her to rebel against the Marrs because they had
possession of her darling, [[A.D. 1595.]] She fretted and wept until the
king was beside himself to know what was best to do. When little Henry
was fifteen months old his mother requested that the question of his
guardianship might be settled by council; but James was too shrewd to
submit to that proceeding, so he urged the queen to satisfy the craving
of her heart by going at once to Stirling Castle. But that was not what
her majesty desired; therefore, she declared that she was not well,
and refused to stir. James insisted, and obliged his wife to obey by
superintending the arrangements for the journey and turning a deaf ear
to all her objections. Finding that there was no help for it, Queen Anne
set out on horseback with her train of attendants; but with her usual
perversity she feigned illness, and stopped at a palace by the way.
She was anxious to see her baby, no doubt, but could not bear that her
husband should find her too yielding; so, on every occasion when he
deemed it necessary to oppose her, she made him suffer for it. Yet James
VI. was a devoted husband throughout his life, and never took a firm
stand against his wife unless urgent reasons required it.

As soon as the Earl of Marr was informed of the queen's whereabouts he
hastened to pay his respects to her; but {128}she absolutely refused
to see him, and her people treated him so uncivilly that he was glad to
return to Stirling Castle. It was foolish in Queen Anne to insult her
husband's most faithful friend and the man who had charge of her infant,
but that was not the extent of her folly.

During the king's absence on his summer travels she actually went so far
as to plan an expedition, which she meant to head, for the purpose of
carrying off the infant prince by force. Fortunately, James heard of
it in time to reach the place where his wife was stopping and bring her
back to her senses. He at once accompanied her to Stirling Castle, where
she was permitted to fondle little Henry as much as she pleased.

It was not unnatural that Queen Anne should want to keep her child with
her; but she showed decided want of character in insisting upon it after
the king had explained to her that the safety of his own person, the
child, and the kingdom required this sacrifice at her hands. Had
she taken pains to inform herself she would have seen that all the
misfortunes of the preceding kings of the line of Stuart had arisen on
account of their having been minors at the time of their accession. The
throne had in each case been claimed for the son, which necessitated
the destruction of the father and the appointment of a regent. Thus the
strongest party had ruled according to their own ideas of justice.

It was to prevent the recurrence of such a miserable state of affairs
that King James fortified his son in a well-guarded castle, under the
supervision of such tried friends and loyal subjects as the Earl of Marr
and his mother.

[[A.D. 1596.]] Anne's outbursts of temper because of this arrangement
were for a time appeased, when her second child was born. It was a girl,
and received the name of Elizabeth for the Queen of England. The infant
princess {129}was given in charge of Lord and Lady Livingstone, though
the ministers of the Episcopal Church objected on the score of the
latter's adherence to Catholicism. This child afterwards became Queen of
Bohemia.

There were two people among Queen Anne's court who occupied a very
prominent position, and were specially favored with her protection.
These were Alexander and Beatrice Ruthven, members of a family in
Scotland who claimed royal descent. The Ruthven family had attained the
earldom of Gowry, and its members had aided in three separate assaults
on the personal liberty of the sovereign; they were, therefore, the
cause of a great deal of fighting and bloodshed.

[[A.D. 1597.]] Young Alexander became the object of King James's
jealousy on one occasion. It occurred in this wise: "One day, when
the queen was walking in the gardens of Falkland Palace with Beatrice
Ruthven, they suddenly came upon the maid-of-honor's brother, Alexander,
a youth of nineteen, who lay fast asleep beneath the shade of a large
tree. For a bit of fun her majesty tied a silver ribbon around his neck,
which had been given to her by the king, without arousing the sleeper.
Presently King James himself came along. The silver ribbon caught his
attention, he stooped to examine it, frowned, and looked angrily on the
youth, who was, by the way, a gentleman-of-the-bed-chamber, then hurried
on without waking young Ruthven. Beatrice, who had been anxiously
watching this little scene from behind a neighboring bush, rushed
forward, snatched the ribbon from her brother's neck, and hastened with
it through a private entrance to the queen's room. Hurriedly opening a
drawer, she deposited the ribbon therein, and had just time to inform
her majesty 'that her reason for so doing would be presently explained,'
when the king entered, and in a threatening tone demanded {130}the
silver ribbon. Luckily Anne was able to produce it, and thus dispel
the angry frown that had gathered on the brow of her lord, no
doubt congratulating herself upon the possession of so sagacious a
maid-of-honor."

For the time being King James's jealousy was appeased; but the Gowry
conspiracy aroused it again three years later, and Alexander Ruthven was
again the object of it.

[[A.D. 1600.]] The queen was awakened much earlier than usual one
bright, warm morning in August by the king's preparations for a hunting
expedition. She asked "why he started so early;" to which he replied,
"that he wished to be astir betimes, as he expected to kill a prime buck
before noon."

It was true that he was going hunting, but he had another object in
view. He had been informed by Alexander Ruthven that a Jesuit with a
large bag of gold had just been seized and shut up at Gowry House, in
Perth, awaiting examination. It was no unusual occurrence at that era
for any one besides a common robber to take possession of whatever gold
might be found on the person of a traveller, and then spare no effort
to prove said traveller Jesuitical. So King James set forth in high glee
with the prospect of counting over a bag of gold, besides enjoying a
morning hunt. Several hours were passed in the latter diversion; and at
noon, accompanied by only one or two attendants, the king left the woods
and entered Gowry House. He was received by the Earl of Gowry, young
Ruthven's elder brother, who had just returned from the court of Queen
Elizabeth. After dinner, at a sign from Alexander Ruthven, the king
withdrew, expecting to be introduced to the Jesuit with the gold.
Unsuspectingly he followed the young man up various winding stairs and
through gloomy, intricate passages to a circular room, {131}used by the
Go wry family as a prison. He was surprised, on entering, to behold a
gigantic man in a complete suit of black armor, and still more so when
Alexander closed the door and locked it, cutting off all retreat.

[Illustration: 0137]

He then made an assault upon the king,--who, though unarmed, kept him
at bay,--and reproached him with the death of his father, the Earl
of Gowry. The man in armor took no part in the struggle. The king
remonstrated with Alexander, and reminded him that he was a child when
the late Earl of Gowry was beheaded, and had nothing whatever to do
with it. He also spoke of the affection the queen bore to his sister
Beatrice, and of the kindness and attention he himself had received at
court. Young Ruthven paused {132}for a moment, then made a second attack
upon the king, who would surely have been murdered but for the vigilance
of his page, young Ramsay. This youth missed his royal master, and,
suspecting some evil, sought him through the house. The king's voice,
calling for help, guided the boy's steps to the circular chamber, which
he entered through a private door, having forced it open. He flew at
Alexander Ruthven and dragged him from the king's throat, shouting all
the time for help. Some of the Gowry servants rushed upon the scene
and assisted Ramsay, who was struggling with Alexander Ruthven. At this
juncture the rest of the royal hunting party arrived, and broke open
the door, but not until the Earl of Gowry, who proved to be the man in
armor, and young Ruthven were slain.

[[A.D. 1601.]] This conspiracy created great consternation in Scotland.
It was a dark, gloomy night when the king set out with his retinue
to return to Falkland Palace; but all the people swarmed out of their
houses with torches, and shouted with joy to behold their sovereign safe
from the hands of traitors.

In 1601 a little prince was born at Dunfermline, who later became
Charles I. of England.

[[A.D. 1603.]] A couple of years after this event Queen Elizabeth died,
and King James was invited to come to London, and take possession of the
crown under the title of James I.

Of course this was no surprise; it was an exaltation that had been
eagerly anticipated by the royal family as well as the whole nation.
Yet when the moment arrived for the king to bid farewell to his Scottish
subjects, it was very like a father parting from a numerous family, and
many tears were shed. On the Sunday before his departure from England
a sermon was preached on the subject in church, to which King James
responded, bidding his people a loving and tender farewell. {133}He went
to England alone, having arranged that the queen should follow in twenty
days, providing his reception was such as to assure him that his family
would be safe and happy. On his arrival there he was greeted with such
wild demonstrations of joy that he was perfectly astonished. "These
people will spoil a good king," was his pithy remark to the Earl of
Marr, who had accompanied him.

No sooner was Queen Anne convinced that her son's guardian was well
out of the way, than she set off for Stirling Castle, accompanied by a
strong body of nobles, never doubting that she could easily intimidate
the Countess of Marr into the surrender of her son Henry. But the old
lady proved herself equal to the emergency, and flatly refused to give
up the boy unless ordered to do so by the king himself. Some fighting
ensued, and the queen flew into such a tremendous passion that she
became seriously ill, and had to be put to bed in the royal apartments
of the castle.

Messengers were forthwith despatched to inform the king of the condition
of his silly, spoiled wife, and of the action that had occasioned her
illness. With his usual forbearance, James forgave his spouse, and
thought only of her illness. He immediately sent the Duke of Lenox and
the Earl of Marr to see what arrangements they could make to pacify her
majesty.

The royal lady not only refused to see Marr, but would not receive her
son from his hands, nor travel from Stirling to Edinburgh if he were of
the company,--so thoroughly did she hate one of her husband's most loyal
adherents.

When this whim was conveyed to James, he swore a great many oaths, and
wrote a letter of remonstrance to his better half, which, however, did
not mollify her in the least. Then the royal husband compromised by
ordering Marr to deliver the young prince to the Duke of Lenox, {134}who
would consign him with due ceremony to the queen, and then to hasten to
England, where his presence was greatly needed.

This arrangement pacified Anne, and she removed at once to Holyrood to
make preparations for leaving Scotland. These were completed in a couple
of months.

Her majesty was met at Berwick by the ladies of Queen Elizabeth's court,
who carried her the costumes and jewels of the defunct queen.

King James ordered that the queen's household should be settled before
her entrance into London, so that she might be properly escorted on that
occasion. But the royal pair could not agree as to the appointments, for
Anne desired to retain her Scottish subjects in the principal posts of
honor, and his majesty knew that the English would not submit to that
arrangement.

He appointed Sir George Carew for the queen's chamberlain. Her majesty
persisted in retaining Kennedy; whereupon James, whose patience had been
sorely tried by the number of applicants who had presented themselves
for confirmation, flew into a passion when Kennedy appeared before him.
He bade him "Begone!" and added "that if he caught him carrying the
chamberlain's staff before his wife he should take it out of his hand
and break it over his pate."

The Scotchman very prudently made the best of his way back home, and
then Queen Anne accepted the English chamberlain, but retained all her
Scottish ladies, adding to their number only two of her new subjects.

Her two elder children accompanied her, and they were enthusiastically
received everywhere. Among the presents that were generously bestowed
on them were silver cups filled with gold-pieces. When they arrived
at Althorpe an exquisite _fete_, prepared by Ben Jonson, awaited them.
{135}It was called the Masque of the Fairies, and took place in a
magnificent park, where, accompanied by joyful music, fairies and satyrs
recited appropriate poems of welcome, and made presents to the royal
family.

The queen was so delighted with Ben Jonson's genius that she afterwards
employed him to prepare entertainments for the amusement of her court.

The first festival held at Windsor Castle after the arrival of the
royal family was for the purpose of bestowing the title of Knight of the
Garter on Prince Henry, the Duke of Lenox, and other nobles.

The queen openly expressed her pride and admiration of Prince Henry when
he was presented to her in the robes of the Garter, which she pronounced
exceedingly becoming.

In consequence of the plague, which was raging to an alarming extent in
England, the coronation was postponed from time to time, and when it
did take place the usual procession from the Tower through the city to
Westminster was dispensed with, and the ceremony was performed almost
in private. The people were so disappointed that a grand festival was
promised to them as soon as the pestilence should abate. It took place
with great splendor the following spring, when the king, queen, and
Prince Henry participated.

In the household of Anne of Denmark there was an office filled by an old
lady called "the mother-of-the-maids," whose duty it was to keep order
among the ladies,--no doubt an exceedingly difficult one.

The belle of the court was Lady Arabella Stuart, whose descent made her
the next heir to the crown of England after James I. and his family.
Previous to the arrival of James there had been a plot, headed by Sir
Walter Raleigh, formed for the purpose of asserting that lady's claim;
but that fact did not make any impression on the {136}sovereign's mind
that could affect her unfavorably; on the contrary, he distinguished her
with marked favors, and allowed her, as she deserved, the rank of first
lady at court after the queen.

[Illustration: 0142]

The conspirators of this plot were brought to trial during the autumn
while the court was sojourning at Winchester Palace, and many of
them were pardoned just at the moment when they were being led to the
scaffold. King James did this to make them appreciate the full extent
of his mercy, though many of them were banished afterwards. Sir Walter
Raleigh was shut up in the Tower, with his sentence hanging over his
head, to be carried into effect at the royal pleasure. He was not,
however, deprived of his income or his actual property, because the
queen interested herself in his behalf, and felt very sorry on account
{137}of the cruel treatment he had received from the attorney-general
during his trial. It was supposed by some people that she, as well as
Prince Henry, doubted his guilt, but there is no proof of that.

[[A.D. 1604.]] When Prince Charles was between three and four years of
age his health was so bad that Sir Robert Carey and his wife, who had
charge of the royal child, were ordered to bring him from Dunfermline to
his parents. From that time he improved so rapidly that he soon became a
robust boy; and as years went by, and he developed into manhood, he was
distinguished for his graceful bearing and splendid constitution.

[[A.D. 1610.]] One of the proudest and happiest periods of Queen Anne's
life was when her eldest son was created Prince of Wales. The event
was celebrated with great splendor, and Ben Jonson wrote an address
in verse, which was read, while a pantomime represented the prince as
wakening and reviving the dying genius of chivalry.

The royal parents, the Princess and Prince Charles stood at the bridge
by Westminster Palace to receive the prince when he arrived, escorted
down the Thames in state by the lord-mayor and city authorities.

The gratified mother conducted him into the palace. A number of
festivals succeeded, and the king introduced his son formally to the
assembled houses of parliament during the following week.

A grand masque was given, in which all the ladies and gentlemen of the
court took part, the music, painting, dancing, and decorations being
guided and arranged by Inigo Jones, an architect of great talent. Even
the queen and the princess-royal took part, and devoted several days to
rehearsing the dances and situations and preparing costumes.

The object of this masque was to deliver presents to {138}the
newly-created Prince of Wales. The court ladies personated nymphs of
the principal rivers that belonged to the estates of their husbands
or fathers, and eight of the handsomest nobleman attended these river
nymphs as Tritons.

Prince Charles appeared with a dozen young ladies of his own age and
size. They were daughters of lords or barons, and personated the naiads
of springs and fountains.

The prince, as Zephyr, wore a short robe of green satin, embroidered
in gold; silver wings were attached to his shoulders, and a garland of
flowers encircled his brow; on his right arm, which was bare, the queen
had clasped a valuable diamond bracelet.

The naiads wore pale blue-satin tunics, embroidered in silver; their
hair hung in loose tresses, and water-lilies crowned their heads. These
children danced a ballet,--Prince Charles always occupying the centre of
a group,--which was enthusiastically applauded by the whole court.

Prince Charles's next duty was to offer to his brother, the Prince of
Wales, the queen's present, which consisted of a jewelled sword, valued
at four thousand pounds, attached to a scarf of her majesty's own work.
He also presented a gold trident to the king as ruler of the ocean. This
presentation was made during an address by one of the Tritons.

Her majesty was then invited to descend from the throne and dance her
ballet with her water-nymphs. This was succeeded by another dance of
the little naiads, and the entertainment concluded with the queen's
quadrille. The summer morning had dawned when the gay party dispersed.

[[A.D. 1612.]] Two years later the Prince of Wales, that youth of
eighteen, who was the joy of his parents and the {139}pride of the whole
nation, was attacked with the worst and most malignant form of typhus
fever, which resulted in his death on the 5th of November, 1612.

It was the anniversary of the Gunpowder Plot, and the procession of
grotesque figures presented a strange contrast, as they swarmed around
St. James's Palace, to the sad scene that was enacted within. When at
last young Henry's death was announced, loud lamentations filled the
air, and those who had left their homes to mingle with the festivities
of the day returned bowed down with grief.

It was many months before the poor queen recovered from the shock
produced by the death of her dearly-beloved boy, and she was still so
depressed when the marriage of her daughter was solemnized that she
was scarcely fit to be present. However, she aroused herself for that
occasion; but the reaction was so great after the departure of the
princess from England that she was ordered to Bath by her physicians.
The change proved of great benefit, and by the end of the summer her
majesty had regained her health and spirits.

Sometimes she shot at the deer from a stand. On one occasion she missed
her aim, and hit the king's favorite hound. No one dared to announce the
dreadful accident to his majesty, but he discovered the dead animal,
and stormed so outrageously that it was many minutes before he could be
informed whose hand had sent the deadly arrow. He was instantaneously
mollified, and not only sent his beloved spouse a most affectionate
message, but followed it with a jewel worth two thousand pounds,
pretending it was a legacy to her from his dear, dead dog.

[[A.D. 1614.]] A visit from her brother, the King of Denmark, gave the
queen a great deal of pleasure. His sole object in going to England was
to see her, whom he {140}loved very dearly. He travelled _incognito_,
and although one of the queen's attendants recognized him after his
arrival at the palace, and told his sister of his presence, she would
not believe it until he stole up behind her chair and gave her a kiss.
The king, who was travelling through the country, was summoned home
forthwith to receive his royal guest, and on his return there was a
fortnight of hunting, bear-baiting, hawking, plays, and feasts. Just
before his departure the King of Denmark entertained the English court
at his own expense with the finest display of fireworks that had ever
been witnessed in their country. After this visit Queen Anne never saw
her brother again, though she corresponded with him until her death.

It was while King James was on a visit to his native land, where he went
for the purpose of establishing parish schools, that his wife's health
began to fail. Three years previously her physicians had treated her for
dropsy, from which she had never entirely recovered, and now a dreadful
cough was added to the other malady. She was hastily removed to Hampton
Court, where she was tenderly cared for. After his return, the king went
to visit his wife two or three times a week, when he was well enough
to do so, but his health was by no means good, for he had gout in his
knees.

[[A.D. 1618.]] About this time the poor sick queen received a most
touching appeal from Sir Walter Raleigh, whose death-sentence was about
to be carried into effect. It was written in verse, and ended thus:--

               "Save him who would have died for your defence!

               Save him whose thoughts no treason ever tainted."

Queen Anne interceded for Sir Walter in vain, though she asked as a
personal favor that his life might be spared,

{141}

[Illustration: 0147]

{143}for he was beheaded on the 29th of October, 1618. It is not
reported how her majesty bore the news of Sir Walter's death; but her
own was so near at hand that she probably viewed all affairs of this
world with calmness and resignation, and turned her thoughts to the
future state.

King James was not with his wife during her last moments, but Prince
Charles kneeled at her bedside and received her dying blessing. She was
conscious to the end, and when the Bishop of London prayed, he said:
"Madame, make a sign that your majesty is one with your God, and long to
be with him." She held up her hands, and when one failed she raised the
other until both dropped, and she was no more.

The royal corpse was taken to Somerset House, where it lay in state for
three days, and was then carried to the grave by ten knights, followed
by most of the nobility then sojourning in London. The Countess of
Arundel was chief lady mourner, and walked between the Duke of Lenox
and the Marquis of Hamilton. All the ladies of the royal household came
after, and as each one was enveloped in from twelve to sixteen yards of
heavy black cloth, it was difficult for them to walk even at a funeral
gait. Prince Charles preceded the funeral car, which was drawn by six
horses, and the Archbishop of Canterbury walked by his side. The queen's
riding horse was led by one of the officers of her household, and half
a dozen heralds carried banners and flags bound with _crepe_ just behind
the pall.

Queen Anne of Denmark died in the forty-sixth year of her age, and
was buried at Westminster Abbey. She left two children, one who became
Charles I. of England, and the other was Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia.
{144}




CHAPTER VI. HENRIETTA MARIA, QUEEN-CONSORT OF CHARLES I., KING OF GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND

(A.D 1609-1669.)

|Henrietta Maria, wife of Charles I., was the youngest child of Henry
IV. of France, and his second wife, Marie de Medicis.

[[A.D. 1609.]] She was born at Louvre in 1609, and Madame de Monglat,
the royal governess, took charge of her, as she had done of all her
brothers and sisters from the time of their births.

This princess had a grand baptism, no less a person than the pope's
nuncio acting as sponsor. The name given to her was Henrietta Marie, but
it became anglicized when she was so young that we must speak of her
as she was known during the greater and more important part of her
existence.

She was unfortunate in having a mother who was so weak-minded, petulant,
and bigoted as to be quite incapable of instilling into her children the
wise principles that they needed to fit them for the battle of life.

The little Henrietta was but six months old when her father was killed
by Ravaillac; and her first appearance in public was made on the
occasion of his funeral. She was carried in the arms of Madame de
Monglat in the doleful procession, and her baby hands sprinkled the
murdered

{145}

[Illustration: 0151]

{147}corpse with holy water, according to the national custom in
Normandy.

The coronation of Louis XIII. followed close upon his father's
assassination; but in consequence of his extreme youth his mother was
appointed queen-regent, and civil war never ceased to rage in France
while she continued in power.

The royal children were kept at Fontainebleau, safe from the
disturbances that were going on in Paris. It was the beautiful daughter
of Madame de Monglat who superintended the toilet and daily life of
little Henrietta, and the child loved her so dearly that she called her
Mamanga, an Italian pet name, meaning mamma, and learned from the lips
of Marie de Medicis, who was a native of Italy.

The religious education of the little princess was guided by a Carmelite
nun, whom she visited at stated intervals during her childhood. She
and her little brother, Duke Gaston, who studied together, were taught
music, painting, and some of the lighter branches, but were never put
to any solid work; and later in life Henrietta often lamented her slight
knowledge of history, saying that all her lessons of human character
were learned from her own sad experience. She was a beautiful child,
very much spoiled and flattered, and frequently summoned from the
nursery to appear at public entertainments. When she was but six years
old her mother took her to Bordeaux to witness the departure of her
eldest sister, Elizabeth, to become the wife of the King of Spain, and
the arrival of Anne of Austria, the Spanish bride of Louis XIII.

About six years after her husband's death, France had become so
desolated by the civil wars brought on by unwise government, that the
queen-regent was imprisoned at the Castle of Blois, and the boy king of
France assumed the power. {148}Princess Henrietta shared her mother's
imprisonment for three years. At the expiration of that time she was
present at the marriage of her sister Christine to the Duke of Savoy,
and this event was succeeded by a reconciliation between Marie de
Medicis and the young king. This was brought about by her almoner, who
afterwards became Cardinal Richelieu, and thenceforward her influence in
the government of France was greater than ever.

[[A.D. 1625.]] When the Princess Henrietta was sixteen years old James
I. sent Lord Kensington to France on a secret mission to find out
whether her hand could be obtained for his son Charles, who had by that
time become the most elegant and accomplished prince in Europe.

The queen-mother was delighted with the prospects of such a match for
her daughter, but would give no decided answer until the girl herself
had been consulted.

It was not long before every one at the French court knew the object
of Kensington's visit, and the ladies crowded around the handsome
Englishman to question him about the Prince of Wales, and to examine the
miniature of the royal gentleman, which the ambassador wore suspended
from a ribbon around his neck.

Etiquette forbade the princess even to mention her royal suitor, much
less to look at the picture she was dying to behold. But, remembering
that the lady at whose house the ambassador sojourned had been in her
service, Henrietta went to her and begged her to borrow the miniature,
that she might feast her eyes on it as long as she pleased. This was
done, and the young lady blushingly gazed upon the face of her future
husband, and expressed her entire satisfaction with his appearance.

Kensington lost no time in reporting her little stratagem; it was his
intention to promote the alliance between Prince Charles and Princess
Henrietta, so he expatiated on the

{149}

[Illustration: 0155]

{151}beauty, graces, and accomplishments of the former to the ladies of
the French court, and wrote to England about the princess: "She is
the sweetest creature in France and the loveliest thing in nature. Her
growth is little short of her age, and her wisdom infinitely beyond it.
She dances as well as I ever saw any one; she has a wonderful voice, and
sings admirably."

When it was ascertained that the marriage would be agreeable to both
royal families, the Earl of Carlisle joined Kensington for the purpose
of preparing the treaty.

Then the pope raised an objection on the score of religion; for he did
not believe the Catholic princess could be happy with a Protestant,
husband in a country where her co-religionists had been persecuted.

However, the queen mother had set her heart on the marriage; so after a
great deal of debate it was agreed that Henrietta and all her attendants
should be made welcome, and should have liberty to observe their
religion in England; that she should renounce all claim to the French
throne, and that her children should be brought up under her care until
their thirteenth year.

[[A.D. 1625.]] As soon as the treaty was signed King James ordered all
persons imprisoned for religion to be released, fines levied against
Catholics to be returned, and the execution of convicted <DW7>s to
be stopped. This was the origin of all the opposition of the English
parliament to the Stuart monarchs.

King James died before the marriage took place. The ceremony was
performed at Notre Dame, a prince of the house of Guise representing the
royal groom. The Duke of Buckingham, with a splendid train of English
nobles, met the bridal party at the church door, in order to escort the
young Queen of England home.

The whole court and royal family of France prepared to {152}accompany
the bride to the coast in magnificent style; but at the last moment
Louis XIII. was prevented by illness from travelling, and the entire
retinue were detained for two weeks at Compeigne by a dangerous malady
which attacked Marie de Medicis.

Charles I. was at Canterbury when his bride arrived in England, but he
hastened to Dover to meet her as soon as the tidings were brought him.
She was at breakfast when he was announced, but arose promptly and ran
down stairs to meet him. She would have knelt and kissed his hand, but
he drew her towards him and pressed her in his arms. Then the bride
attempted to recite a little speech that she had prepared, but her
courage failed, and she burst into tears. Charles treated her very
kindly, drew her gently aside, and soothed her with loving and tender
expressions.

The weeping girl was soon reassured, her dark eyes brightened, and she
conversed freely with her royal lover. Then she presented all her
French attendants by name,--"Mamanga," now Madame St. George, being the
principal of her ladies.

The royal party left Dover the same day, and stopped at Canterbury,
where all the English ladies of the queen's household were assembled to
be presented to their royal mistress. It was in the open air on a June
morning that Henrietta held her first court. The king assisted her to
alight from her carriage, and after the presentation a magnificent feast
was served.

The royal pair entered London by the river Thames, hundreds of beautiful
barges forming a procession, which was greeted by thundering salutes
from the navy. That evening the bells rang till midnight, bonfires
blazed on every side, and rejoicing was kept up for several days.

King Charles opened his parliament with his bride seated beside him on
the throne, and soon after retired for

{153}

[Illustration: 0159]

{155}several weeks to Hampton Court, because the plague was raging so
dreadfully in London.

The young queen was very attractive at this time. She was of medium
height, but possessed a beautiful figure, her complexion was fine, face
oval, eyes large, dark, and sparkling. Her hair was black, her teeth
handsome, her forehead, nose, and mouth large, but well-formed.

The king loved his little wife devotedly, and gave her the pet name of
Mary,--a very unpopular one to English lads; but Charles declared that
his people would soon forget their prejudice against it for the sake of
the blessings the present bearer of it would bring them.

Before many months the French attendants became objects of jealousy and
dislike to the king, and notwithstanding the agreement that formed part
of the marriage treaty he determined to get rid of them. Not only was it
objectionable to the king that his wife should have mass celebrated in
the palace, but his own attendants found fault with this arrangement,
and Father Sancy, the queen's confessor, made himself obnoxious by
insisting upon the establishment of a Roman Catholic chapel. Besides,
Henrietta was so thoroughly under the influence of her French household
that King Charles feared she would never become attached to him or
his country. He thoroughly disliked Madame St. George, who was always
thrusting herself forward, and interfering between him and his wife; but
the most serious cause of displeasure that Charles I. had against the
French attendants was that they influenced the queen in her refusal to
share his coronation.

This was an unpardonable piece of ignorance and bigotry, injurious to
the king and dangerous to herself; for it was charged against her in
later years that she had never been recognized as the consort of Charles
I.

[[A.D. 1626.]] The king was therefore crowned at West- {156}minster
Abbey alone, his young and lovely wife refusing even to be present at
the ceremony. This obstinacy was a death-blow to her popularity, and
increased the difficulties that surrounded her husband. The Duke of
Buckingham, who was in Paris, was notified that the French attendants
would be sent home, and the king wrote a letter to his brother-in-law,
Louis XIII., in justification of the proceedings.

One day King Charles entered his wife's apartment at Whitehall, and
found her attendants dancing about, and behaving in a manner that he
considered disrespectful to the queen, so taking her quietly by the
hand, he led her into a side room and closed the door. Presently an
order was received bidding her majesty's French servants, young and old,
to repair at once to Somerset House, there to await the king's orders.
The women wept and lamented as though they had been summoned to
execution; but the guard cleared them all out of the queen's apartments
and bolted the doors after them.

Meanwhile a stormy scene was being enacted between the royal couple.
Henrietta flew into a rage when her husband told her what he had done,
and rushed to the window to bid farewell to her train. The king drew her
away, telling her "to be satisfied, for it must be so." Then she broke
the panes with her fist, and his majesty was obliged to hold her wrists
until her temper abated.

She was not permitted to see her country-people again, excepting her
nurse, her dresser, and Madame de la Tremouille,--those three being
retained in her service.

In a few days the king repaired to Somerset House, and in a set speech
informed the French household of the necessity of dismissing them to
their own country, and promised them their wages with gratuities to the
amount of twenty-two thousand pounds. {157}These people had robbed the
queen to such an extent that she was actually left without a change of
linen, and had, besides, contracted debts in her name.

It was not until the following month, when the king sent a body of
stout yeomen to turn the late attendants out of Somerset House by the
shoulders, if they would not go otherwise, that they finally departed.

The royal couple had been married just one year when all the French
attendants, including Father Sancy, returned to their native land.

The queen attributed her husband's turning off her household so
summarily to the influence and advice of Buckingham, whom she disliked
thoroughly.

She became so restless and unhappy that she wanted to go back to France,
and wrote her mother to that effect, repeating the grievances of which
the banished household had already given an exaggerated account.

The Duke de Bassompierre, a man of sense and spirit, and an old friend
of Henry IV., was sent to England to inquire into the wrongs of
which Henrietta complained. He found her dreadfully incensed against
Buckingham, the prime minister, with whom she had had a violent quarrel,
though she knew scarcely any English, and he very little French.
Nevertheless he managed to make her comprehend him when he told her "to
beware how she behaved, for in England queens had had their heads cut
off before now."

Henrietta assured de Bassompierre that the prime minister was constantly
making mischief between her and her husband, because he was jealous of
her influence.

Bassompierre had several private interviews with the young queen, the
king, and Buckingham, which resulted in a complete reconciliation.
But her majesty was displeased because her father's old friend neither
flattered nor spoiled {158}her, and so she fell out with him, and by the
expiration of a fortnight the reconciled parties were more angry with
each other than ever before.

The new subject of quarrel was the king's refusal to permit more than
three chaplains for the performance of the Catholic service in the
palace. Henrietta was too young to reason sensibly about her husband's
affairs, and she was such a fervent Catholic that she could bear no
opposition concerning her religion from her Protestant husband. Her
position was an exceedingly difficult one, and all the errors she
committed were the result of her youth and inexperience.

The French ambassador had to begin his work all over again; and so
adroitly did he manage, that in the course of a few days he had arranged
all the disputed points. It was agreed that the queen should have two
chapels built for her, one at St. James's, the other at Somerset House.

A bishop, ten priests, a confessor, and ten musicians were to be
furnished, as well as ladies of the bed-chamber, a clear-starcher, two
physicians, an apothecary, a surgeon, a grand-chamberlain, a squire,
a secretary, a gentleman-usher, a valet, and a baker, all from her
majesty's native land.

Even then the queen was not satisfied. She continued to play the vixen
to such an extent that, regardless of her rank, Bassoinpierre took
it upon himself to administer a bit of plain language. She had been
flattered into believing that all her little tyrannies were quite
becoming to a pretty queen, but she was now told that she behaved unlike
a true wife, and that her conduct should be reported to her family in
France.

Henrietta was surprised at this honest dealing; but the effect was
wholesome, and secured for her nearly eighteen years of happiness with
her husband. {159}Instead of being received with honors on his return to
France, de Bassompierre was frowned upon because he had avoided extreme
measures in his capacity of mediator, and because he had spoken the
truth too plainly.

Shortly after a war broke out between England and France; but it did
not in the least disturb Queen Henrietta's tranquillity, for she and her
husband were never on better terms.

But the French nation despised Charles I., and considered his wife a
martyr and a victim. This led to the belief in an imposture of a crazy
girl, who, calling herself the persecuted Queen of England, presented
herself at a convent in Limoges, and claimed the protection of the
nuns. She declared that she had escaped from England because she was
persecuted on account of the true faith. She described the court and
household of the queen so correctly that she was eagerly listened to by
the whole neighborhood, who flocked to see her. Louis XIII., who knew
how happily and peacefully his sister was then living, was so incensed
at this imposition that he had the girl imprisoned, and she was heard of
no more.

[[A.D. 1628.]] The sudden death of Buckingham occurred when Henrietta
was just eighteen years old, and she was thus rid of a person who had
never ceased to be an object of dislike to her.

Queen Henrietta had a great fancy for dwarfs; so, at an entertainment
given to her once when she was making a _progress_ through her kingdom,
an immense venison pasty was placed in the centre of the table. The
crust was removed and Geoffrey Hudson, a little man just eighteen inches
high, stepped out, prostrated himself before her majesty, and asked to
be taken into her service. His request was immediately complied with,
and he was employed to carry state messages of slight importance. He was
not {160}the only dwarf at courts for there was a married pair of these
little monsters besides.

[[A.D. 1630.]] The queen had a son born at St. James's Palace in 1630,
who succeeded to the throne as Charles II.

A Welsh nurse was provided for the royal infant, because it was the
custom that the first words uttered by any Prince of Wales should be
Welsh.

He could not have been a handsome child, for his mother wrote of him to
her friend, Madame St. George: "He is so ugly that I am ashamed of him;
but his size and fatness supply the want of beauty."

[[A.D. 1632.]] The royal family was increased by the birth of a daughter
a couple of years later. She was named Mary, baptized, as her brother
had been, according to the form prescribed in the Book of Common Prayer,
and placed under the care of Catherine, Lady Stanhope.

Henrietta's unpopularity was increased to an alarming degree on account
of her laying the corner-stone of a Capuchin chapel, in the courtyard of
Somerset House. She had already commenced one at St. James's; and when
the Roman Catholic service was celebrated in them, about two years
later, it was most injurious to the prosperity of the king, although it
had been agreed that these chapels should be built. Henrietta refused
to take part in her husband's coronation in Scotland as she had done in
England, consequently he went alone.

[[A.D. 1633]] On his return another prince was added to the family, and
baptized James. His title was the Duke of York. He was a handsome baby,
and his father destined him for the navy. Henrietta was a fond mother,
and devoted much of her time to the nursery. Etiquette prevented a queen
from entertaining guests with her voice, but its magnificent strains
often filled the galleries of the palace when she sang to her infants.

[[A.D. 1638.]] {161}In 1638 King Charles incurred the displeasure of
Cardinal Richelieu by offering a home in England to Marie de Medicis.
This cardinal owed much of his grandeur to the queen-mother of France,
but when she was in distress he turned his back on her.

[[A.D. 1641.]] Marie de Medicis prolonged her stay in England nearly
three years. During that period she witnessed the riots and disturbances
that led to the execution of the Earl of Strafford,--an event that
seriously grieved Charles I. and his wife, and that, in the end, was
disastrous to both.

In the midst of these scenes of terror, Mary, the princess-royal, who
was just ten years of age, was publicly espoused, at Whitehall chapel,
to the son of the Prince of Orange, a boy of eleven.

The queen-mother had been so maligned by the rioters that she was
terrified for her personal safety, and insisted on departing forthwith
for Holland. She was escorted, by the king's orders, as far as Dover,
and about the same time Charles I. set out on a journey to Scotland.

During his absence the queen's confessor, Father Phillips, was summoned
several times by parliament, for examination, and ominous threats were
made regarding the establishment of Capuchins at Somerset House. Signs
of civil war were daily becoming more numerous and more marked, Sir
Edward Nicholas, the king's private secretary, wrote a letter urging his
majesty to dismiss the monks at the next session of parliament; but he
would take no decided steps in opposition to his wife's religion without
consulting her. The consequence was that an infuriated mob destroyed the
Capuchin chapel a year later.

[[A.D. 1642.]] Among the queen's attendants was Lady Carlisle, who,
while appearing loyal, was acting the part of {162}a spy, and reporting
every incident of the royal household to the Roundhead leaders.

These Roundheads were Puritans, and it was Queen Henrietta herself who
named them, because their hair was clipped so close and short that their
heads looked like balls, and formed a marked contrast to the flowing
locks of the courtiers.

When parliament informed the queen that she must surrender her children
into their hands until her husband's return, lest she should make
<DW7>s of them, she refused, but left them at Oatlands and went to live
at Hampton Court, hoping thus to keep her five little ones together and
remove all cause of complaint. Her youngest child, Henry, was then only
a few months old.

Henrietta knew that she was closely watched, and had reason to fear that
her children might at any moment be seized and taken away from her; so,
like a true mother, she took every precaution to prevent it. She had a
ship ready to receive them at Portsmouth, and a hundred cavaliers with a
supply of five horses at her disposal; but no attack was made.

The Irish rebellion broke out that autumn, attended with all the horrors
of civil strife and religious persecution. The Roundheads accused
Queen Henrietta of having encouraged the massacre, although there is no
evidence of her having done so.

When the king returned from Scotland he was received with every mark
of loyalty. His family went to meet him, and the populace assembled
to greet their sovereign. He entered the metropolis on horseback,
the Prince of Wales rode by his side, and the queen, with her younger
children, followed in an open carriage.

While in Scotland the king had ascertained that five members of the
house of commons were traitors; so, taking {163}advantage of his popular
reception on his return, he made up his mind to arrest them. He confided
in no one but the queen. When he left her on the morning that he had
fixed for the arrest, he said: "If you find one hour elapse without
hearing ill news of me, you will see-me, when I return, the master of my
kingdom."

[Illustration: 0169]

Queen Henrietta watched the clock anxiously until the hour had passed,
then turning to the treacherous Lady Carlisle she exultingly exclaimed:
"Rejoice with me, for at this hour the king is, as I have reason to
believe, master of his realm, for Pym and his confederates are arrested
before now."

For this indiscretion King Charles paid dearly. He had been stopped at
the entrance to the house of commons by a large number of persons, who
presented petitions which he stood to read and discuss.

This delay afforded Lady Carlisle ample time to dispatch one of her
agents to inform the persons marked for arrest. They fled just
as Charles entered the house, and their party organized a plan of
resistance on the spot. {164}Insurrections followed, and the king and
queen retired to Hampton Court to watch the result. Parliament then
warned all the nobility to arm, and prevent the king from going further.
King Charles was surprised; for he had not the least idea that any
restraint would be put upon his personal freedom.

The queen then proposed that she should go to Holland, under pretence of
conveying the princess-royal to her young spouse, the Prince of Orange,
but in reality for the purpose of selling her jewels to provide the king
with means of defence. No opposition was made to her departure, and
the Prince of Orange received her most cordially. Not so the Dutch
burgomasters, who treated her with marked disrespect at first; but by
the end of one year she had so won them over by her tact, diplomacy,
and courteous manners that she had raised upwards of two million pounds
sterling, all of which had been forwarded to her husband, who had raised
his standard at Nottingham and commenced a warlike struggle.

Meanwhile the Princess of Orange pursued her studies in Holland, where
she soon won the affections of the people, and her alliance proved a
most happy one.

[[A.D. 1643.]] Queen Henrietta set out on her return to England just a
year after she had left. She sailed in an English ship, accompanied by
eleven smaller ones filled with stores and ammunition for the king. The
fleet was commanded by the Dutch admiral Von Tromp.

A tremendous gale blew them about for nearly a fortnight, the travellers
suffering all the torments of sea-sickness, and expecting every moment
to go to the bottom.

The queen behaved bravely on this trying occasion, and cheerfully
replied to the wailing and lamentations of her ladies: "Comfort
yourselves, _mes cheres_; queens of England are never drowned." The poor
priests on board were as {165}sick as the rest, but they had to listen
to the confessions of the terrified ladies and gentlemen, who bawled
out their sins, regardless of the presence of others, in a way that must
have been truly amusing.

At last the queen landed safely at a port near the Hague, having lost
two of her ships. After two days' rest she again set sail, and made a
quick voyage to Burlington, where, guarded by a thousand cavaliers on
land, and Von Tromp at sea, she went ashore. The next morning, at dawn,
five ships-of-war, that had entered the bay during the night, began a
cannonade on the house where the queen was sleeping. She was obliged
to rise in haste, put on her clothes, and seek shelter in a ditch some
distance from the town of Burlington. Bullets fell thick about her as
she hurried on foot to the place of shelter, and one of her servants
was killed. Nevertheless, when Henrietta remembered that her favorite
lap-dog had been left behind, she ran back, hastily climbed the stairs
to her bed-chamber, caught up the animal, and carried it off in safety.
One ball grazed the edge of the ditch where the royal party were
concealed, and covered them with earth and stones. At night the
attacking ships retreated, much to her majesty's relief, for she then
remained quietly for ten days in the neighborhood of Burlington.

While there she distributed arms to those gentlemen who seemed loyally
disposed, and thus gained many friends for the king.

A captain of one of the ships that had bombarded the queen's house on
the morning after her arrival was caught on shore, tried by a military
tribunal, and sentenced to be hung. The queen happened to meet the
procession when the prisoner was being conducted to execution, and
inquired what was the matter. She was told that King Charles's loyal
subjects were about to punish a man who had aimed at her. {166}"Ah,"
replied the queen, "but he did not kill me, and he shall not be put to
death on my account." The captain was then set at liberty, and so deeply
was he touched by Henrietta's generosity that he came over to the royal
cause, and persuaded several of his shipmates to do likewise.

[[A.D. 1644.]] Previous to the battle of Newbury, so fatal to his cause,
Charles escorted his wife to Abington, and there this devoted couple
parted never to meet again.

The queen was ill when the Earl of Essex advanced with his army to
besiege the city in which she had taken refuge; but rising from her bed
she escaped in disguise with one lady, one gentleman, and her confessor,
leaving behind her an infant only a few weeks old.

She hid for two days in a hut by the roadside three miles from Exeter,
and lay couched under a heap of rubbish when the parliamentary soldiers
marched by. She heard them say "that they meant to carry the head of
Henrietta to London, and receive for it a reward of fifty thousand
crowns." As soon as they were gone she stole out of her hiding-place,
and with her three companions travelled on to a wood, which became the
rendezvous that night for all her faithful attendants. Geoffrey Hudson,
the dwarf, was of the number, and everybody was in disguise.

The whole party pushed on to the coast and embarked on board a friendly
Dutch vessel.

Meanwhile the king, by a series of victories, had fought his way to
Exeter, where he hoped to see his dear Henrietta, but she had been gone
several days when he arrived. He beheld his new baby--a princess--for
the first time, and had her baptized under the name of Henrietta Anne,
after her mother and her good aunt in France.

Queen Henrietta did not reach her native land without another trial;
for her vessel was chased by a cruiser in the service of parliament, and
several cannon balls fired at it. {167}The danger of being taken or sunk
became so great that the queen took command of the vessel herself,
had every sail set for speed, urged the pilot to keep straight on his
course, and charged the captain to fire the powder magazine if escape
were impossible. She was determined not to fall into the hands of her
husband's enemies, and preferred death to the disgrace of being dragged
captive to London.

However, she did not have to resort to such an extreme measure, for in
a few hours she landed at Bretagne. Such a sorry spectacle did the queen
and her attendants present that the natives took them for pirates and
arose in arms against them; but no sooner were they convinced that it
was the daughter of their beloved King Henry IV. who had sought refuge
among them, than they speedily took measures to supply all her wants,
and provided her with equipages to convey her to the baths of Bourbon,
where she hoped to regain health and strength.

Anne of Austria, who was then queen-regent, sent her confidential
lady-of-honor to Henrietta, with offers of all the assistance it was
in the power of France to bestow, and supplied her with liberal sums of
money; but Queen Henrietta stripped herself of every farthing she
could command to send to her husband, over whose misfortunes she wept
constantly.

Queen Henrietta was met on her return to Paris, and most affectionately
welcomed by the queen-regent and the little King Louis IV., who escorted
her to the Louvre, where a luxurious suite of apartments had been
prepared for her. They treated her with the consideration due to a
queen, and, as a daughter of France, she was supplied with the liberal
income of twelve thousand crowns per month.

But she deprived herself even of necessary comforts in order that she
might keep her suffering husband supplied. A few days after her arrival
in her native land she removed {168}to St. Germains, a country-palace
that the queen-regent had placed at her disposal. There she lived in
retirement, and her wants being less, she was enabled to save larger
sums to send to England.

The affairs of King Charles had grown from bad to worse; and with his
usual thoughtfulness for his family, he instructed his sons to escape
from a country where neither he nor they could hope for protection.

[[A.D. 1645.]] Accordingly both the Prince of Wales and the Duke of York
made their way to Paris, where they spent some time with their mother,
then joined the English fleet that had forsaken the Cromwell party, and
was lying off the coast of Holland.

The same year Lady Morton, who had been left at Exeter with the infant
Henrietta Anne, made her escape, disguised as a beggar, and, with the
child in her arms, travelled on until she placed her in her mother's
lap. The queen's heart was gladdened at the sight of her little one,
whom she covered with kisses, and called "child of benediction."

She had made up her mind that this little princess should become a
Catholic, and for that reason appointed Pere Gamache to instruct her.

Now, so long as the royal family of France were rich, Queen Henrietta
shared their prosperity, and was treated with the utmost respect and
consideration, but when their own civil wars reduced them to a state of
destitution she had poverty added to her other troubles.

She behaved nobly when her sister-in-law, Anne of Austria, was in danger
from the fury of her own subjects, and left her quiet retreat at St.
Germains to share her danger in Paris during the battles of the Fronde
and the Barricades. It was she who acted as peacemaker between the
queen-regent and her people, and she had become such {169}a favorite in
France that after much trouble and many privations she finally succeeded
in restoring order.

[[A.D. 1648.]] But the Christmas of 1648, before this was accomplished,
Cardinal de Retz, who was one of the principal leaders of the Fronde,
but a good friend to Queen Henrietta, found her shut up in an apartment
of the Louvre with little Henrietta, without any fire, although it was
a cold, snowy day. The sorrowing mother had kept the four-year old
princess in bed lest she should suffer from the cold, but both were
without food. The cardinal supplied the necessary comforts forthwith,
and on the same day represented to the parliament of Paris the distress
in which he had discovered the daughter of their former king. His
eloquence was the outpouring of a kind heart, and met with an immediate
response, for a subsidy of twenty thousand livres was instantly voted
for the destitute queen.

Then she wrote to Lord Fairfax in England, asking his assistance, that
she might see her husband once more. This letter was delivered to the
house of commons, and contemptuously thrown aside, with the remark "that
the writer had been voted guilty of high treason in 1643."

Thus ended all hope of being reunited to the husband whose afflictions
she shared and for whose sake she would willingly have died. Added to
this was the suspense the queen endured while the civil strife in Paris
and its neighborhood rendered the passage of couriers impossible.

King Charles might well have escaped from England and joined his wife,
but nothing could induce him to enter France as a supplicant sovereign.
He preferred to suffer and struggle alone, through four long years of
insult and abuse,--most shocking to us of the present day to read about.

The Roundheads grew so powerful that, with Oliver {170}Cromwell for
their leader, they became a body of ruffians, who either thrust into
a dungeon or expelled any of their band who evinced the least mark of
favor towards the king.

Through treachery Charles I. had fallen a prisoner in their hands.
They showed him no mercy; they granted him no justice. A handful of
self-appointed judges went through the mockery of a trial, and condemned
their unfortunate sovereign to the block.

On the day before the execution Princess Elizabeth and the Duke of
Gloucester, the only royal children who remained in England, were
admitted to their father's prison to bid him farewell. They both
sobbed passionately. King Charles drew them to his bosom with words of
consolation, and solemnly blessed them.

He told the princess not to grieve for him, for his was a glorious
death,--for the laws and religion of the land; advised her what books
to read; bade her to forgive his enemies, as he hoped God would, and
charged her to be obedient to her mother, and to tell her that his love
for her would be the same to the last.

Then taking little Gloucester on his knee, he said: "Sweetheart, now
will they cut off thy father's head. Heed, my child, what I say: they
will cut off my head, and perhaps make thee king; but, mark what I say,
you must not be a king so long as your brothers Charles and James live;
therefore, I charge you, do not be made a king by them."

Earnestly looking up into his father's face, the boy replied: "I will be
torn in pieces first." This unexpected answer pleased his majesty,
who with a few more words of advice fervently kissed his children, and
ordered them to be taken away. They sobbed aloud, and the king turned
away as they passed out, and leaned his head against the window trying
to repress his tears. {171}While this painful interview was taking place
Cromwell and his gang of ruffians sat in secret conclave to determine
upon the hour of their victim's death; and some of them swore later that
it was only violent threats on the part of their leader that forced them
to place their signatures to the fatal warrant.

The noble and dignified bearing of the king as he ascended the scaffold
was noticed by all who saw him, and the populace, who were kept at a
distance by a dense mass of soldiers, wept amidst their blessings and
prayers for the martyr king.

Charles made a short speech, saying that "if he had been a despot
he might have remained their sovereign; but he died to preserve the
liberties of the people of England." Some one touched the axe while he
was speaking. "Have a care of the axe!" he exclaimed, "if the edge be
spoiled it will be the worse for me."

Then his executioner kneeled before him and asked forgiveness. Charles
drew himself up with proud dignity and replied;--"No! I forgive no
subject of mine who comes deliberately to shed my blood."

He then said a short prayer, raised his eyes to heaven, then placed his
head upon the block. It was severed with one blow, as a cry of agony
arose from the horrified multitude.

Queen Henrietta did not hear of the dreadful fate that had overtaken her
husband for several days; and when at last it was communicated to her,
she stood motionless as a statue, without words or tears.

The visit of the Duchess de Vendome, whom the queen tenderly loved,
produced a change in the afflicted widow, who burst into a passionate
fit of weeping at the tender words of sympathy expressed by her friend.
She called {172}herself the most miserable woman on the face of the
earth, and resolved to retire with a few of her ladies to the Carmelite
Convent in Paris. She well knew that for the future life could contain
nothing but bitterness for her, and said: "I have lost a crown, but that
I had long ceased to regret; it is my husband for whom I grieve,--the
good, just, wise, virtuous man, so worthy of my love and that of his
subjects."

She named herself _La malheureuse reine_, and mourned for King Charles
to the day of her death.

[[A.D. 1649.]] Queen Henrietta was not long permitted to enjoy the
peaceful retirement of the convent; for her son, the Prince of Wales,
determined to return to England, and desired to consult his mother about
it. She therefore met him at St. Germains in the summer of 1649, and
afterwards returned with him to her former apartments at the Louvre.

In the following autumn, accompanied by his brother James, Duke of York,
Charles went to the Isle of Jersey, where he was proclaimed King of
Great Britain. Scotland acknowledged him next, and then followed the
scenes of blood in Ireland, under the leadership of Cromwell, more
horrible than any that had ever been witnessed in the world before.

Charles was absent more than two years; and while he was contesting
for his hereditary rights his young brother and sister, who were still
prisoners in England, were treated very harshly by the republicans.

[[A.D. 1650.]] In the September of 1650 Princess Elizabeth died of a
malignant fever.

Cromwell had established a strong military despotism in the British
Islands; and when Queen Henrietta demanded of him the payment of her
dower, he replied: "That she had never been recognized as Queen-Consort
of Great {173}Britain by the people, consequently she had no right to a
dower."

This was because she had refused, on account of her religious bigotry,
to be crowned with the king.

But the usurper did her a great favor when he allowed the young Duke of
Gloucester to return to her. The permit said: "That Henry Stuart, third
son of the late Charles I., had leave to transport himself beyond seas."

Queen Henrietta treated her sons most harshly because they refused to
become Catholics, and adhered to the Episcopal church; in consequence a
great deal of ill-feeling and enmity had grown up between her and them,
which at last drove them from her.

The young Duke of Gloucester went to Holland to live with his sister,
the Princess of Orange, whose husband had died of small-pox a short time
before she offered her brother an asylum.

Queen Henrietta remained at the Palais Royal with her youngest child as
a guest of the queen-regent.

[[A.D. 1658.]] At last, in 1658, Cromwell died, and two years later
Charles II. was restored to the throne of England, without the shedding
of a single drop of blood. His brother, the young Duke of Gloucester,
had accompanied Charles to England, where four months after the
Restoration he died of small-pox.

[[A.D. 1660.]] In October of 1660 the Duke of York met Queen Henrietta
and his youngest sister at Calais, where they embarked for England in
grand state. The vessels were all decked with gay flags, and as each one
discharged her cannon in regular order the noise was so great that it
could be distinctly heard at Dover. The channel was so calm that its
surface looked like a mirror. Not a breath of wind was stirring, and it
was two days before the English fleet could accomplish the passage that
{174}usually took three or four hours. Fortunately the Duke of York had
provided a sumptuous banquet for his mother, sister, and their whole
retinue, which passed a few hours pleasantly, and saved the travellers
from hunger.

When the queen reached Dover, Charles II. went on board the vessel
to welcome her, and conducted her to Dover Castle, where a pleasant
surprise awaited her.

Not only was a magnificent supper spread, but every member of the royal
family of Stuart had assembled to receive Queen Henrietta, who once more
had the satisfaction of embracing each of her children in turn.

For the moment she was happy, surrounded by those she loved; but after
she reached London she was overcome by the deepest sorrow. The sight of
the apartments once occupied by her husband agonized her, and it wrung
her heart to look upon the spot where he had suffered and died. She sank
into the deepest melancholy, and would shut herself up for hours at a
time, denying admittance to any of her ladies.

Life in England became insupportable to the afflicted queen, and she
determined to return to France.

[[A.D. 1661.]] In the evening of New Year's Day she gave an audience
to those who desired to bid her farewell, and then retired to Hampton
Court.

As the Princess Henrietta was engaged to be married to Philippe, the
Duke of Orleans, parliament settled on her a liberal marriage-portion,
and by the middle of January she sailed, with her mother, for France.

Two months later the marriage between Princess Henrietta and the Duke
of Orleans was solemnized at the Palais Royal; and when the young couple
went to pass the summer at Fontainebleau, Queen Henrietta retired to her
favorite chateau of Colombe, a few miles from Paris. The following
year the Duke and Duchess of Orleans made her {175}a long visit, then
accompanied her to Calais, where she embarked to return to England once
more.

[[A.D. 1662.]] Charles II. had married Catharine of Braganza during
his mother's absence, and the royal couple received Queen Henrietta
affectionately, and welcomed her to Greenwich Palace. She remained
with them until the summer, when Somerset House having been handsomely
renovated, she set up her court there; but her health began to decline,
and she sent for her son, the king, and told him that she could only
regain strength in her native land. He urged her to repair to the
Bourbon baths, though it grieved him sorely to part from his mother
again.

[[A.D. 1665.]] She went first to her chateau of Colombe, where the King
and Queen of France met and welcomed her, and after a short season of
repose she proceeded to the baths of Bourbon.

[[A.D. 1669.]] But her health declined from year to year, and although
her daughter and son-in-law were indefatigable in their loving
attentions, and summoned the most celebrated physicians of Paris to her
bedside, she expired suddenly and painlessly at midnight of August 31,
1669.

Charles II. and the Duke of York received the news with deep grief, and
retired to Hampton Court, where they remained until all the mourning
ceremonies were completed at Whitehall.

Louis XIV. ordered a general mourning to be observed throughout France
for his aunt,--not because she was a queen of England so much as because
she was the last child of Henry IV. of France. {176}




CHAPTER VII. CATHARINE OF BRAGANZA, QUEEN OF CHARLES II., KING OF GREAT
BRITAIN AND IRELAND.

(A.D. 1638-1705.)

|It was on St. Catharine's day that this princess was born, in the year
1638, and it was in honor of that saint that she was named. When she
came into the world, Portugal was under the rule of Spain, and had been
so for sixty years, not because the Portuguese were contented with the
despotic laws that governed them, but because they did not feel strong
enough to fight for liberty.

When a nation considers itself oppressed by tyrannical laws, secret
organizations are sure to be formed for the purpose of shaking off the
yoke in one way or another.

In all the principal towns of Portugal these patriotic associations
were formed at the time we speak of, for the purpose of throwing off the
Spanish yoke; and the period was rapidly approaching when their efforts
were to be crowned with success.

It was to the Duke of Braganza, Catharine's father, the last of the
old royal line, that the larger party looked with hope and confidence.
Meanwhile, with a desire to keep clear of the watchful eye of his foes
and the dangerous intrigues of his friends, the duke removed to his
Palace of Villa Vicosa with his beloved wife, the Donna Luiza, and his
two little sons. While living at that most charming spot, that has been
justly named a terrestrial paradise, the {177}duchess added a daughter
to her family circle,--the little Catharine, of whom we have spoken. She
was baptized at the parish chapel during the following month, and her
godfather was a Spanish grandee of high rank and enormous wealth. The
ceremony was performed with great pomp, and gifts of considerable value
were bestowed upon the little girl. She was such a pet in her family,
that each birthday was the occasion of a sumptuous _fete_. On the
second anniversary of her birth an incident occurred which connected the
celebration of it with no less important a matter than the emancipation
of Portugal from the Spanish yoke. On that day Don Gaspar Cortigno
arrived at the Villa Vicosa, and requested an immediate interview
with the duke. This being granted, he presented an appeal from his
countrymen, urging the duke to declare himself their leader, and to
accept the crown to which he was justly entitled.

[[A.D. 1640.]] The nobleman listened attentively to all that his
visitor said; but he was at a loss for a reply, while, he thoughtfully
considered his position. On the one hand was the Portuguese crown, which
was his by inheritance, on the other the blessings of a happy home, with
a charming, affectionate family, and the peaceful possession of estates,
comprising not less than a third of the realm. Should he risk everything
to embark upon an enterprise fraught with danger, perhaps ruin? He could
not decide; but, like a dutiful husband, consulted Donna Luiza. Without
a moment's hesitation, she replied: "This day our friends are assembled
around us to celebrate the anniversary of the birth of our little
Catharine; and who knows but this new guest may have been sent to
certify to you that it is the will of Heaven, through especial grace, to
invest you with that crown of which you have long been unjustly deprived
by Spain. For my part I regard it as a happy {178}presage that he comes
on such day." Then lifting up her daughter, and holding her before the
duke, she added, "How can you find it in your heart to refuse to confer
on this child the rank of a king's daughter?" That was enough; the
father decided, though the statesman had faltered; ambition for his
children won the Duke of Braganza's consent, and thenceforth he would
devote his life to the welfare of his country.

A few days later he removed with his family to Lisbon, where he was
proclaimed king, under the title of Juan IV. Then began a fierce
struggle, in which many battles were fought and won by the Portuguese
against their powerful enemy. They were fighting for freedom, and their
desperate charges counterbalanced the superior numbers of Spain. In
moments of discouragement and despondency Donna Luiza was always near to
fill her husband's breast with courage and hope.

[[A.D. 1644.]] England immediately recognized Don Juan as sovereign of
Portugal; but the pope refused to do so, and was imitated by all the
Catholic courts of Europe, excepting France. Four years were spent in
battling for the liberty which was won at last by a decisive overthrow
of the Spanish forces in 1644.

Having accomplished this, Juan IV. sent Sabran as ambassador to England
to negotiate a marriage between the Prince of Wales, who afterwards
became Charles II., and his little daughter Catharine. The treasury of
King Charles was so nearly empty at that time, that the liberal dower
Juan was able to bestow upon the infanta would no doubt have been very
acceptable, but there were other considerations. Catharine of Braganza
was a Catholic; and as the difference of religion had created so much
unhappiness between himself and his own wife, Charles I. hesitated to
thrust the same domestic infelicity on his son, who was

{179}

[Illustration: 0185]

{181}of course a Protestant. And so, for the time being, no decisive
measures could be taken for the marriage.

[[A.D. 1656.]] Don Juan did not live long to enjoy the lofty position
for which he had struggled so desperately; for he died towards the
close of the year 1656, in the prime of life, but worn out with care and
anxiety.

By her father's death Princess Catharine became an heiress of great
wealth; for Don Juan left a will bequeathing to his daughter the island
of Madeira, the city of Lanego, and the town of Moura, with all their
territories and rents. She received other sources of income, besides,
with the proviso that if she married in a foreign land, she was to
relinquish all to the crown and receive the equivalent in money.

Donna Luiza carefully studied the aspect of affairs in other countries
besides the one she ruled, and her penetration enabled her to foresee
that the restoration of Charles II. to the throne of England was merely
a matter of time. That being the case, she made up her mind to work
for an alliance between that prince and her daughter, hoping thereby
to strengthen the position of her own realm. All other proposals,
therefore, for the hand of the infanta were regarded with disfavor.

The elder Princess Dowager of Orange was not so keen-sighted; for when
Charles was sojourning at a village in Flanders, while he was still
an exile, he fell in love with the Princess Henrietta, daughter of
Frederick Henry, Prince of Orange, and would have married her, but the
dowager declined the offer, saying, "that she saw no chance for the
amendment of his fortunes."

A few months latter, when a deputation from parliament arrived with
fifty thousand pounds for Prince Charles, and an invitation to return to
England, the old lady could have bitten her tongue out for the blunder
she had made, and endeavored to repair it. {182}But Charles was too
indignant to listen to any of her overtures, or ever to forgive the
insult she had offered him in his adversity.

[[A.D. 1660.]] Henrietta was extremely anxious to see her eldest son
united in marriage with a princess of her own faith; so, once when she
was on a visit to England, she manoeuvred until matters were brought to
such a point that the Portuguese ambassador was authorized to interview
the prince's lord chamberlain on the subject. The former important
personage was no other than Don Francisco de Mello, the godfather of
Catharine. He began by praising the virtues of the king, and added,
"that it was time he should bestow himself in marriage, and that nothing
ought to keep him single but the difficulty of finding a suitable
consort."

The lord chamberlain, Earl of Manchester, assented. Thereupon Don
Francisco continued: "There is in Portugal a princess, in her beauty,
person, and age, very fit for the king, who would have a portion
suitable to her birth and quality. She is a Catholic, to be sure, and
would never depart from her religion; but she has none of that meddling
activity which sometimes makes persons of any faith troublesome when
they come into a country where another mode of worship than their own is
practised. She has been bred under a wise mother, who has taught her not
to interfere in state affairs, of which she is entirely ignorant." The
ambassador concluded by informing the earl that he was authorized to
propose the princess for a wife to the king, accompanied with offers
such as no other power in Europe could make.

This conversation was duly reported to Charles, who sent to Don
Francisco for further particulars. An early interview was granted the
ambassador, who repeated what he had said to the lord chamberlain, and
added, furthermore, {183}"that he was authorized to offer five hundred
thousand pounds sterling in cash as a portion for the Infanta Catharine,
besides the possession of Tangier, on the coast of Africa, which was to
be made over to the crown of England forever. Free trade in the Brazil
and the East Indies was to be granted to the English nation; and
the island of Bombay, with its spacious bay, towns, and castles, was
likewise to belong to them."

Charles was dazzled with such a brilliant offer, and hastened to consult
Lord Clarendon, his prime minister, on the subject.

Clarendon refused to offer immediate advice, and asked, "whether his
majesty had given up all thought of a Protestant wife."

Charles replied, "that he could not find one, except among his own
subjects, and he had seen no one of their number, who had pleased him
sufficiently for that purpose."

A secret meeting was then called of several members of his council, over
which the king presided in person. He stated the business for which he
had requested their presence, and pointed out the importance of Tangier
for the benefit of trade on the Mediterranean sea.

One of the lords suggested the advisability of a Protestant queen.
Charles asked "where he should find one?" Several German princesses were
mentioned, whereupon he exclaimed, impatiently: "Odds fish! They are all
dull and foggy; I cannot like one of them for a wife."

It was then unanimously agreed that a matrimonial treaty should be
opened, with all possible secrecy, with Portugal.

Delighted with the success of his mission, Don Francisco de Mello
offered to go back to his native land to complete the necessary
arrangements. {184}The court of Lisbon was filled with rejoicing when
the object of Don Francisco's return was announced. He was rewarded with
the title of Count da Ponte, and sent back to England with full power to
conclude the marriage.

[[A.D. 1661.]] It was late in January when the count again set foot in
London. To his surprise, the whole aspect of affairs had changed, and he
could not even obtain an interview with the king.

The reason for the change was this: The representatives of Spain knew
well that it would redound to their disadvantage if an alliance between
the royal houses of England and Portugal should be cemented; they
therefore endeavored to prevent it. One of their number happened to be
on terms of intimacy with Charles, and could, therefore, speak plainly
on the subject of his prospective marriage.

His arguments made little impression until he dared to attack the
princess herself; but when he affirmed that she was ugly, deformed, and
delicate, the king began to fear that perhaps he had allowed himself to
be too easily influenced. The Earl of Bristol was a particular enemy
of Clarendon, and prided himself on throwing a wet blanket over every
project that minister seemed to favor. The earl had just returned from a
visit to Portugal, and corroborated every statement made by the Spanish
envoy, merely for the sake of opposition. At the same time he drew
a graphic picture of some of the Italian princesses he had met, and
assured the king that if he would make his selection from their number,
the Spanish government would agree to give the lady of his choice as
large a portion as though she were of their royal blood.

As Charles was not in love with Catharine of Braganza, never having laid
eyes on her, he was easily turned from his purpose, and broke off all
negotiations with the Portuguese court. {185}But he did not abandon his
intention to marry; and so despatched the Earl of Bristol to Parma to
make minute inquiries as to the qualifications of the princesses of that
court. The well-known fondness of Charles II. for handsome women obliged
the earl to make his observations with great care; so when one glance at
the ladies, on their way to church, convinced him that one was too fat,
and both were too ugly, to please his royal master, he dared not present
a favorable report.

Meanwhile the king had taken pains to inquire of other travellers who
had been to Portugal, what sort of a woman the infanta really was; and
the descriptions he got were so different from those presented by the
Spaniards, that he altered his manner towards Don Francisco, and began
to show him many marks of courtesy.

This enraged Vatteville, the Spanish ambassador, to such a degree, that
he openly declared, "that he was directed by the king, his master, to
let his majesty know, that, if he should proceed towards a marriage with
the daughter of his rebel, the Duke of Braganza, he had orders to take
his leave presently, and declare war against him."

This excited the king's indignation, and he manfully replied, "that the
ambassador might be gone as soon as he liked."

Then Vatteville found that he had gone too far, and resorted to the most
fulsome flattery in order to conciliate the irate king.

At last a special messenger arrived from France with a private
communication from Louis XIV., expressing regret that any obstruction
to the Portuguese match had arisen; and assuring King Charles that
Catharine was a lady of rare beauty and accomplishments.

While Charles hesitated, he received a portrait of the dark-eyed
infanta, which, after all, made a deeper impression {186}on his
heart than diplomatists, promises of wealth, or the reasoning of his
lord-chancellor, could ever have accomplished. In this portrait the
princess was represented as a brilliant brunette, with large, dark eyes,
and a profusion of brown hair arranged in short curls on each side of
the head, and falling to the waist in ringlets at the back. "This person
cannot be unhandsome," said the king, gazing attentively on the face of
the woman he was so soon to marry.

The ambassador was summoned, and requested to repeat to his majesty
all that England was to gain in the event of his marriage with the
Portuguese princess. Don Francisco assured Charles that the money he
had promised in the name of the queen-regent was all sealed up in bags
awaiting transportation; and that the fleet which was to be sent for the
princess might even go first and take possession of Tangiers.

It was further agreed that the marriage should take place in England,
although it was not customary for any princess to join her husband in
a foreign land until after the ceremony had been performed with a proxy
acting as bridegroom.

Donna Luiza preferred this arrangement, because the pope had never
acknowledged the independence of Portugal; and, as it would be necessary
to apply for a dispensation before a marriage could be contracted
between a Catholic and a Protestant, she feared that he would mention
Catharine only as the daughter of the Duke of Braganza, and not as a
princess. This would have been a serious affront to the royal house of
Portugal, and most injurious to their cause.

On his part, Charles avoided anything disagreeable that might arise at
the coronation of a Catholic queen in England, by having himself crowned
before such a person ex-

{187}

[Illustration: 0193]

isted. {189}Consequently, that ceremony was appointed for St. George's
day, April 23, 1661, and was celebrated with great splendor and
universal rejoicing.

The following month Charles II. opened parliament in person, and
imparted the news that he intended to marry "the daughter of Portugal."

In June, the treaty which united England and Portugal was signed by King
Charles at Whitehall; and the acquisition of Bombay, which it granted,
gave England a foothold in India that she has retained ever since, as we
know.

The contract secured for Catharine the free exercise of her religion
and the privilege of fitting up a chapel in any palace she might occupy,
besides a settled income of thirty thousand pounds a year, with full
liberty to return to her native land, should she become a widow, without
forfeiting her jointure.

Meanwhile, Vatteville was so enraged at being outdone, that, although
a Catholic representative, he circulated papers among the populace,
setting forth the ills that must necessarily arise in England from the
introduction of a popish queen. He meant to do this secretly, but was
caught in the act of distributing some of these documents from his own
window among the soldiers. The king was so indignant that he sent
his secretary of state to order the ambassador's immediate departure.
Vatteville begged to be allowed to ask his majesty's pardon, but his
request was not granted, and the troublesome busybody was obliged to go
back to Spain without being permitted to speak to the king again.

There was great rejoicing in Lisbon when the Count da Ponte arrived with
full power from the king to complete the arrangements for his marriage,
and the streets rang with the cry of, "Long live the King of Great
Britain, whom God hath raised to protect us from our implacable foes!"
The count was the bearer of a letter from the king to {190}Donna Luiza,
as well as one to the princess, whom he addressed as "The Queen of Great
Britain, my wife, and lady, whom God preserve." Both were considered
fine specimens of letter-writing in their day, and prove Charles II.
to have been a clever correspondent. As soon as the marriage treaty was
ratified, Catharine was addressed as queen, and treated with the utmost
deference at her brother's court. A great change had suddenly come to
the life of this young girl, and she was called upon to fill a position
for which she was totally unprepared, and to become the wife of a merry
monarch, whose views of life were entirely different from her own. We
cannot help pitying her at the outset. She had been brought up under the
most rigid laws, kept in seclusion, and only began to appear in public
after she assumed the proud title of Queen of England. Ignorant of the
trials that awaited her in the future, Catharine watched for the arrival
of the Earl of Sandwich and the fleet that was to convey her to England
with the utmost impatience. No anxiety as to her fate marred the bright
hopes of the young girl whose path seemed strewn with roses; she beheld
not the hidden thorns while listening to the flattering representations
of those around her, and prepared herself to leave her family and her
native land without a pang.

It was not until he had cleared the Mediterranean of pirates, taught
Algiers and Tunis to respect the British flag, and taken possession of
Tangiers in the name of his sovereign, that the Earl of Sandwich made
his appearance in the Bay of Lisbon. Now it happened that the Spanish
troops were marching to besiege a seaport town near Lisbon just when the
English ships sailed into the harbor, and as the town was not prepared
for resistance, it must certainly have fallen, and the consequences
have been disastrous to Portugal. But alarmed at the assistance that had
come, {191}just in the nick of time to their enemies, the Spaniards made
a precipitate retreat, and Catharine congratulated herself upon being
the means of saving her country from ruin.

Sir Richara Fanshawe was the bearer of a miniature of King Charles to
his lady-love, accompanied by an affectionate letter. Catharine was
delighted with it, and made numerous inquiries about her royal lover,
whose romantic history had excited her admiration and wonder.

Charles passed the winter in making preparations for the reception of
his bride; and while he was so engaged there were magnificent displays
of fireworks, illuminations, and bull-fights at Lisbon for the amusement
of the English guests; and the queen-regent was so well pleased with the
Count da Ponte's good management, that she signified her approval of it
by again promoting him. He was created Marquez de Sande.

The greatest formality was observed at the reception of the Earl of
Sandwich, and no point of etiquette was omitted that might tend to add
to the importance of the occasion.

The earl had the honor of being presented to the queen-regent and Queen
Catharine, to whom he delivered letters from King Charles, written in
Spanish.

Several English gentlemen of rank were presented to the Queen of Great
Britain, who had been appointed officers of her household by the king,
her husband, and she admitted them formally to their different posts.

_Fetes_ and rejoicings were the order of the day; and nothing else was
thought of until the moment for handing over the money arrived. Then
trouble began; and this is by no means the first instance of its arising
from a similar cause.

In consequence of the late advance of the Spanish army, {192}Donna Luiza
had been compelled to fall back on some of the gold she had reserved for
her daughter's portion, to meet the expenses incurred for the defence
of her realm. So she sent for the Earl of Sandwich, and after making
profuse apologies, and explaining her difficulty, offered to pay down
half the promised sum at once, and pledged herself to deliver the rest
within the year.

The ambassador was perplexed. He had been ordered to receive the entire
sum, and knew perfectly well how much his sovereign depended upon it.
Besides, he had already taken possession of Tangier, and had stationed
an English garrison there. He dared not incur the expense of removing
the troops back home, nor would his gallantry permit him to insult the
lady he was sent to convey to England by leaving her behind. His was
an exceedingly delicate position, and he behaved like a kind-hearted
gentleman by consenting to receive Catharine with half the sum of money
originally offered. Then rose another difficulty, which proves that
Donna Luiza was more diplomatic than honest; for when it came to the
delivery of the bags, they were found to contain, not gold, but sugar,
spices, and other merchandise, which had been valued by the Portuguese
at a much higher rate than was fair.

This was an imposition against which the Earl of Sandwich violently
protested, but that did him no good, for he could get nothing else
unless he would accept jewels, which he positively refused. After a
great deal of argument, it was at last arranged that Diego Silvas, a
man of wealth and excellent character, should accompany the goods as
supercargo, dispose of them in London, and pay the sum realized thereon
to the king's exchequer. At the same time a bond was given by the
government of Portugal for the payment of the residue within the space
of a year. Thus everything was settled at last, and the royal bride
{193}took her departure. Although she was leaving her mother and her
native land, Catharine did not shed a tear. Everything seems to have
been sacrificed for the formality of court etiquette--no sentiment being
permissible.

The young queen, followed by the king and Don Pedro, her two brothers,
the officers of the royal household, and a train of grandees, emerged
from her apartments and descended the grand staircase to the main hall,
where, at the entrance to the court chapel, she was met by her mother.
This was the spot appointed for the leave-taking of the two queens.
Catharine asked permission to kiss her mother's hand, whereupon Donna
Luiza folded her in a fond embrace, and blessed her. Then they parted,
and Catharine was led to her carriage between her two brothers. Before
entering she turned and made a profound courtesy to the queen-mother,
who forthwith retired. Perhaps in the privacy of her own chamber,
this woman, who, though a queen, was still a mother, gave vent to the
emotions she had schooled herself to conceal.

It was St. George's day, and that saint being the patron of Portugal
as well as of England, the festival was celebrated with more than the
customary splendor.

Amidst salvos of artillery the queen's barge approached the "Royal
Charles," which carried eighty cannon and six hundred men, and Catharine
was assisted to mount the ladder that had been built for her special
use.

As soon as she got on board, a salute was fired by the British fleet,
and answered by the Portuguese forts. Then, having been formally
delivered over to the Earl of Sandwich, Queen Catharine was conducted to
her cabin, where she bade farewell to her two brothers, who immediately
returned to the city.

Everything was now ready for the fleet to set sail excepting the wind,
which proved contrary, and prevented the {194}ships from leaving the
bay. That night there was a general illumination and a magnificent
display of fireworks, both on land and water. The wind continued
unfavorable throughout the next day, and the queen-mother sent
frequently to inquire how her daughter fared on shipboard. There was
no complaint to make; for the royal cabin and state-room were most
luxuriously fitted up with damask furniture and curtains, costly
carpets, and soft downy cushions.

A little surprise was prepared for Queen Catharine that night by her
brother, the king, who with Don Pedro and a chosen party of courtiers,
embarked in several barges with their musical instruments, and serenaded
the departing princess, performing the music and singing the sonnets and
madrigals that had been composed in honor of her nuptials.

On the morning of the twenty-fifth the wind changed and the voyage
began. The fleet consisted of fourteen men-of-war; but only three, the
"Royal Charles," the "Gloucester," and the "Royal James," were occupied
by Catharine of Braganza, her attendants, and officers of state.
The others contained the queen's equipage and the merchandise that
represented half her dowry. There were more than a hundred Portuguese
in Catharine's suite, the principal ones being two ladies of the highest
rank, Donna Maria de Portugal, Countess de Penalva, and sister to the
Marquis de Sande, and Donna Elvira de Vilpena, Countess de Ponteval.
These were appointed to _chaperon_ the bride. Six noble young ladies
formed part of the suite also, and an English count very discourteously
described them as "six frights, calling themselves maids-of-honor, and
a duenna, another monster, who took the title of governess to these
extraordinary beauties." Besides these, there were six chaplains, four
bakers, a perfumer, and a barber.

The voyage to England was so tempestuous that some of {195}the vessels
had to put in at Mount's Bay for repairs. All the passengers suffered
terribly from sea-sickness, and many of them from terror. The Duke of
York's squadron awaited the fleet off the Isle of Wight, and as soon as
it appeared in sight the royal brother-in-law sent his secretary in a
boat to ask permission to kiss Queen Catharine's hand. Having obtained
it, the duke, accompanied by Lord Chesterfield, the Duke of Ormond, Lord
Carlingford, the Earl of Suffolk, and others, all in full dress, went in
a barge to the admiral's ship. The Marquez de Sande received the party
and conducted them to the royal cabin. Catharine, dressed in an English
costume, was seated on a throne, under a richly embroidered canopy, when
the duke was announced. She advanced to meet him; he knelt to kiss her
hand, but she quickly raised him, and allowed him to salute her cheek.
Then returning to her throne, Catharine conversed for a few minutes with
his highness, her almoner, Russell, acting as interpreter. But the Duke
of York spoke Spanish well; so in a few moments, after he had taken
a seat by the queen's invitation on her left, he continued the
conversation in that tongue.

When the royal brother-in-law retired, Catharine advanced beyond the
canopy with him, but he tried to prevent it, telling her "she should
recollect her rank," whereupon she sweetly replied, "that she wished to
do that out of affection which she was not obliged to do." This answer
pleased the duke so much that he called to see his sister-in-law every
day, and a most friendly relation was established between them. On one
occasion he expressed a desire to see her in her national dress; so the
next day she received him attired as a Portuguese lady.

The fleet arrived at Portsmouth, May 13, the Duke of York's boat
following the "Royal Charles," and the duke himself handed the queen
to her barge, when she disembarked. {196}Countess de Pontevel attended
Catharine, but Countess Benalva was too ill to leave the ship. The
governor of Portsmouth, the city officials, and the leading persons
of the neighborhood assembled on the beach to welcome the queen, who
entered an open carriage and drove through the principal streets, to
gratify the people's desire for a look at her. She had the good sense
to appear in an English costume, so that she would not seem so much of
a stranger among her new subjects. It was not until five days after his
bride landed at Portsmouth that King Charles found time to leave home.
He was accompanied by Prince Rupert, his cousin, and attended by a troop
of his bodyguard. On reaching Portsmouth he went directly to visit the
queen. The Marquez de Sande and other dignitaries awaited his approach,
and after being graciously received by the king, conducted him to an
apartment, where he made his toilet before presenting himself to her
majesty.

Catharine had been ill for several days with sore throat and cold, and
was still confined to her bed, which, by the physician's order, she was
forbidden to leave. But now that he had come, Charles was so anxious to
see her that he insisted on entering her chamber at once. The Earl of
Sandwich had the honor of attending him; and the interview, which was
conducted in Spanish, was entirely satisfactory to all parties. Charles
expressed his pleasure at seeing his bride, and kindly assured her that
he was delighted to hear from her physician that her indisposition was
not serious. She answered with so much prudence and discretion all
the king's questions that when he returned to his apartments he
congratulated himself on the fortunate choice that had been made for
him.

The following morning Catharine was so much better that it was decided
to have the marriage ceremony performed without delay. This was
accordingly done after the {197}manner of the Catholic ritual, no one
being present but the Portuguese ambassador, a few nobles and ladies.
After the queen's conscience was satisfied in this regard, it was
necessary that the king's should be also; therefore a public Protestant
ceremony took place in the afternoon, Sir Richard Fanshawe having the
honor of being the king's groomsman.

The king was so delighted with his bride that he wrote his chancellor
from Portsmouth: "I am so well satisfied that I cannot tell you how
happy I am, and I must be the worst man living (which I hope I am not)
if I be not a good husband, for I am confident that no two dispositions
were ever better suited to each other than my wife's and mine."

The royal couple arrived at Hampton Court on the 29th, which, being the
anniversary both of the king's birth and restoration, was observed as
a national holiday. The usual rejoicings in honor of the queen's first
appearance among her London subjects took place, and she was welcomed
with every token of popular favor that could be devised. When their
majesties alighted from their carriage they passed through a line of
guards, and were closely followed by the two Portuguese countesses and
other ladies and gentlemen of the royal household. The high officials
were assembled at the palace to greet her majesty and kiss her hand,
and the foreign ministers were also present to offer congratulations
of their respective sovereigns. As her majesty passed through the long
suites of rooms the nobility, gentry, and ladies of the court were
presented to her according to their rank. Poor Queen Catharine was
so fatigued by the time she had seen so many strange faces, made
innumerable bows, and had her hand kissed _ad nauseam_, that she was
obliged to retire to her bedroom for a short repose. The same evening
the {198}Duchess of York arrived from London to pay her respects to her
royal sister-in-law. She was met by the king at the garden gate, and led
at once to the presence of the queen, who embraced her affectionately.
Then the royal family seated themselves in the queen's bed-chamber
and partook of a cup of tea, or "China drink," as it was called when
introduced into England only a year or two before.

However, Catharine of Braganza was the first tea-drinking queen of
England, and no doubt she and her sister-in-law of York became quite
well acquainted over their social cup the first day they met.

A portrait in the historical gallery at Versailles, painted by Lely,
represents Catharine as a very pretty little woman at the time of her
marriage. Her eyes, complexion, and hair are dark and handsome, and
unmistakably those of a Spanish lady.

The queen's bed at Hampton Court was covered with crimson velvet,
embroidered in silver, at a cost of eight thousand pounds, and was
presented to Charles on his departure from Holland to assume the crown.
The large mirror and toilet were of beaten gold,--a present from the
queen-mother, Henrietta,--and the hangings were all of silk and gold,
with embroidered canopies. Valuable paintings adorned the walls,
luxurious carpets covered the floors, and magnificent Indian cabinets,
brought from Portugal, stood in various parts of the palace.

The new and brilliant scenes by which Catharine was surrounded were
all so strange that, while they interested her, she found them very
fatiguing. She had been bred in a convent, as we know, and felt more
real gratification in her daily devotional exercises than in the gayety
in which she was often compelled to take a leading part, even when her
interest was not awakened. She heard mass daily, and was disposed to
spend so much time in her chapel that the

{199}

[Illustration: 0205]

{201}ambassador, her godfather, felt called upon to remind her of her
duties as queen and wife.

King Charles was the most witty, fascinating prince in Europe,
thoroughly good-natured, brave, reckless, devoted to pleasure, and
devoid of religious and moral principles. The free and easy manners of
his court shocked the innocent, virtuous little queen to such a degree
that she would have preferred not to appear in public at all. But her
_naivete_ amused her husband, who devised all sorts of pleasures for her
entertainment.

But Catharine's dream of happiness was soon to end in a rude awakening,
when her tender, loving husband became unkind and unreasonable. There
was a very bad woman at the English court, named Lady Castlemaine,
whose husband was living in France This woman had managed by her wicked
intrigues to gain great influence over the king, and she was universally
despised by everybody excepting his majesty. The queen-mother in
Portugal had heard of this creature, and warned her daughter to have
no communication with her whatever. Therefore, when Charles, most
unreasonably, presented her name, at the head of the list of ladies
whom he recommended for appointments in the royal household, the queen
crossed it off. Charles remonstrated, but Catharine was firm; thereupon
Charles asserted his authority as king and husband. Catharine became
excessively indignant, and passionately refused to have Lady Castlemaine
among her ladies. The matter was dropped for the moment; but the king
assumed an injured air, and made himself disagreeable for a few days
after; without the slightest warning he introduced the objectionable
party to the queen before her whole court. He knew that he was wrong,
and, like many a man before and since, felt angry with his wife because
such was the case. He reproached her with being stubborn and undutiful,
and {202}used threats that he never meant to put into execution. She
burst into tears, told him that he was tyrannical and unkind, and
declared that she would go back to Portugal.

One would suppose that the sight of a young, pretty woman in distress
would have moved the sympathies of the gay, light-hearted king; but he
was not accustomed to being ruled in that way, so he merely replied:
"That she would do well first to learn whether her mother would receive
her, and he would soon give her an opportunity for knowing, for he
would forthwith send home all her Portuguese servants, who had, he knew,
encouraged her in her perverseness."

Everybody at court knew that the king and queen had quarrelled, for they
scarcely looked at each other. If Catharine had known how to manage her
husband she might have won him; but she was too honest to flatter him
more than he deserved, and loved him too well to let him suppose she
could justify his conduct when she knew how much he had been to blame.
She spent hours at a time in her room weeping, while he amused himself
with his friends and treated his wife with indifference. He was more
deeply offended at her wishing to leave him than at any of her angry
reproaches, and sent Lord Clarendon to talk to her in his behalf. She
was very penitent, but insisted that she ought to have the privilege
of selecting her own servants, and would on no account consent to the
presence of an objectionable person.

After that King Charles brutally upbraided her with the non-performance
of the marriage treaty with regard to her dowry,--though she was not to
blame for it,--and insulted the Portuguese ambassador on her account.
Diego Silvas was thrown into prison because he was unable to complete
arrangements for paying the sum of money which was, in reality, not yet
due. Catharine knew that these indignities {203}were aimed at herself,
and felt very unhappy that others should be made to suffer on her
account.

A temporary reconciliation was effected between the royal couple by the
visit of Queen Henrietta, who declared that she had come to England with
the express intention of offering her congratulations on their marriage.
She set up her court at Greenwich Palace, and on the day after her
arrival the young couple paid their first state visit together. Queen
Henrietta awaited them at the first door of the palace after they
ascended the stairs; and when she took the poor, neglected, almost
heart-broken Catharine in her arms, and folded her in a motherly
embrace, the young woman must have felt that she had found a friend
at last. The queen-mother could speak no Spanish, and Catharine little
English, but the king and the Duke of York acted as interpreters. It is
probable that Queen Henrietta meant to intimate to her son, and to all
the courtiers present, the respect due the young queen when she said:
"That she should never have come to England again, except for the
pleasure of seeing her, to love her as a daughter, and serve her as a
queen." Catharine replied with gratified pleasure, "That in love and
obedience, neither the king nor any of her children should exceed her."
This visit lasted four hours, and seems to have had a good effect, for
on their return to Hampton Court the king and queen supped in public,
much to the delight of their court; and the next evening, when the king
returned from a trip to London, her majesty went some distance on the
road with her household to meet him.

Queen Henrietta returned the visit of the royal couple, and spent nearly
a month at Hampton Court, going back to London on the 23d of August, the
day appointed for Catharine to make her first public entrance into the
metropolis. {204}This was done with great magnificence; crowds of people
gathering to the banks of the Thames to view the array of boats that
floated in attendance upon the royal barges. At six o'clock in the
evening the king and queen, with their attendants, landed at Whitehall
Bridge, where the queen-mother, with her whole court, all in rich
attire, waited to receive them.

A series of entertainments succeeded; and King Charles, once having
introduced Lady Castlemaine at court, insisted upon her presence always,
though his conscience often pricked him for doing what he knew to be
wrong. The fact was that he was surrounded by people who recognized no
law but their own desires; and whenever they saw Charles disposed to
yield to his wife's just opposition to the woman who entertained them,
and who was one of them in dissipation, they jeered at him. He, on
the other hand, had not the moral courage to do right in spite of his
friends. It was not because he respected Catharine less, but that he
loved pleasure more. We must not suppose that all his statesmen approved
of his conduct; on the contrary, Lord Clarendon and others took him to
task as much as they dared, and considered the queen an ill-used wife.

Charles had threatened to send all the Portuguese attendants back home,
and at the expiration of four months after their arrival in England he
determined to carry the threat into execution.

This was a sore trial to her, particularly as the king fixed upon a day
for their departure without naming any reward for their services, or
sending a letter to the Queen of Portugal to explain his reason for
dismissing them. Catharine would have remunerated them herself, but she
had no money, and so could not afford to be generous. She begged her
husband to permit her to retain a few of them, and as a great favor
he consented to the old Countess of Penalva, {205}two or three of the
cooks, and the priests who officiated in her majesty's chapel.

Now, as we have said, the king's conduct was not approved by all the
statesmen; there were some among the most faithful of them who were so
pained at the course he was pursuing that they ventured to censure him
for it. But he paid little heed to their wise counsel, and the party of
which they were the representatives grew daily in numbers and power.
Had Queen Catharine not been a most sensible and magnanimous woman,
she might well have united herself to this party in opposition to her
husband, and created no end of disturbance; but she loved King Charles
devotedly, and was willing to make any sacrifice to obtain his affection
in return. She was wrong; for, while she opposed him, he could not but
respect her, because he knew that she was prompted by a sense of right,
and it would have been better for her and for him if she had remained
firm.

She yielded at last, perhaps under bad advice, and suddenly treated
Lady Castlemaine with such courtesy as to surprise the whole court, King
Charles included. It is barely possible that her principal reason for
this concession was a desire to retain the king's support for her native
land, which was just then greatly needed. Be this as it may, Charles
misunderstood his wife, and attributed her former refusal to grant his
request to perversity and hypocrisy, and congratulated himself upon his
perseverence and decision. This, no doubt,  his conduct later in
life. {206}




CHAPTER VIII.

[[A.D. 1662.]] |The New Year opened with a series of balls, receptions,
and feasts; but poor Catharine felt little pleasure in them, for her
husband neglected her and spent his time in dissipation of the worst
character. His associates in vice endeavored to justify his treatment of
the queen by ridiculing and depreciating her in every possible way. They
could not appreciate her honesty or her piety, so they termed the one
lack of brains and the other bigotry. Even her personal appearance
was caricatured; but although she smarted under the stings of these
worthless creatures she bore them uncomplainingly; no wound rankled
in her breast as those inflicted by her husband's indifference and
undignified behavior.

One source of trouble to Catharine during the first year of her marriage
was poverty. She did not receive half the amount that the marriage
treaty allowed her, and was forced to practice the most rigid economy
to avoid falling into debt. This she did so successfully that the
financiers of the government could not help applauding her for it.

When she was ill one summer, her physician recommended the medicinal
waters of Tunbridge Wells; but neither she nor her officers had any
money to pay the expenses of such a trip, and it required at least two
months before it could be raised.

[[A.D. 1663.]] {207}Previous to Catharine's departure for the wells, she
received the good news from her native land that she had eagerly hoped
for.

[Illustration: 0213]

The combined troops of Portugal and England had defeated the Spanish
army with great loss; and as the battle took place very near Lisbon,
it had been desperately contested by the Portuguese, while the Queen
of England awaited the result with breathless anxiety. Colonel Hunt
commanded the English forces; and when he led them up a steep hill to
attack the troops under {208}Don John of Austria, the Portuguese general
exclaimed in ecstasy: "These heretics are better to us than all our
saints!"

Queen Catharine was so ill the following autumn that it was universally
believed she could not recover. The king repented of his unkindness when
he thought she was going to die, and passed many hours at her bedside,
bestowing the most loving attentions upon his sick wife, which had so
good an effect that she recovered. Her convalescence was very slow, and
almost before she was pronounced out of danger she was called upon to
receive the French ambassador and another gentleman from the court of
Louis XIV., who brought messages of condolence from that monarch on
account of the royal lady's illness.

It seems cruel that Catharine should have been disturbed with such
ceremonies before she was strong enough to endure them; but we must not
forget that she lived in an age when privacy was a luxury unknown to
royalty.

When she thought her death was at hand, she made her will, and gave
orders for many domestic arrangements. Her only requests to the king
were, "that her body might be sent to Portugal for interment in the tomb
of her ancestors, and that he would remember the obligation into which
he had entered, never to separate his interests from those of the king,
her brother, and to continue his protection to her distressed people."
Charles promised to obey; but by her recovery his wife spared him the
test.

In the last reign we told all about the Roundheads, and the origin of
their name. Of course theirs ceased to be the popular party when the
Restoration took place; consequently, with a desire to avoid the sneers
of the courtiers, they adopted wigs, which after awhile became so
fashionable that even those whose long locks had been a subject of
vanity to their possessors, had the folly to clip them off

{209}

[Illustration: 0215]

{211}and replace them with wigs or periwigs, as they were called. King
Charles fell in with the prevailing style when he found himself growing
gray, likewise the Duke of York, whose hair was far too beautiful to be
concealed.

The necessity for economy that forced itself upon the queen soon begot
for her the reputation of stinginess, though it was rather a matter
of prudence than otherwise. She was obliged to save because she seldom
received her full income. Fortunately, her tastes were simple compared
with those of her royal spouse; for while her bedroom furniture at
Whitehall was of the plainest description, the only ornaments being
sacred pictures and relics, the king's apartments were fitted up with
all the extravagance and luxury of an Oriental nabob.

[[A.D. 1664.]] The summer after her recovery, Queen Catharine appeared
in a silver lace gown, and walked through the park to St. James's
Chapel, attended by her maids-of-honor, one bright, sunshiny morning,
all in the same glittering material. Parasols had not then been
introduced into England, so the courtly dames shaded their faces from
the bright rays of the sun with gigantic green fans,--a Moorish fashion
introduced by Catharine of Braganza at her court. Masks were often worn
at that period to protect the complexion, but they were too warm in
summer, and the shading fans were by far more comfortable. The trade
with India, opened to the English by the queen's marriage treaty, filled
the fancy shops with all sorts of gay and beautiful fans, which were
put to another use besides that of sunshades. Ladies found them very
convenient for screens when carrying on a little flirtation; for a
whispered conversation with a courtier behind one, or a bit of court
scandal thus imparted, seemed improved by this spicy addition to the
secrecy. Addison gives a pretty playful description of the use of the
fan in several copies of the "Spectator," {212}with which the belles of
the present day are no doubt familiar.

Trade with other countries had increased in England, and her merchants
were anxious to push it still further; but Holland proved such a
formidable rival in this matter that, notwithstanding the friendly
relations that had so long existed between the two countries, Charles
saw the necessity for preparing his navy for hostilities.

Lord Sandwich was ordered to sea, and Queen Catharine was so anxious to
see the departure of the fleet that she and Queen Henrietta accompanied
the king to Chatham for that purpose.

Shortly after this the Spanish ambassador aroused the queen's
indignation by demanding the return of Tangier to his government. Of
course Charles peremptorily refused; and the queen, out of a feeling of
spite, pretended that she could not speak any language but Portuguese
and French when addressed by that dignitary. As he knew only his
native tongue, she thus spared herself the necessity of a prolonged
conversation with her enemy.

Once, on the occasion of a launch at Woolwich, Catharine played her
husband a sly trick. She went down from Whitehall with her ladies in
her barge; but the water was so rough that they were all dreadfully
sea-sick, excepting herself. The king, the Duke of York, the French
ambassador, and the attendants went down in carriages by land. After the
two parties met on ship-board, a violent rain and hail-storm detained
them for a long time. As soon as it abated, the queen stole ashore with
her ladies, took possession of the carriages, in which they returned
home; leaving all the gentlemen to make the best of a very rough trip by
water.

[[A.D. 1665.]] The following year one of England's greatest naval
victories was won by the fleet under the Duke of York's command.
{213}The rejoicings occasioned thereby were cut short by the breaking
out of the most terrible visitation of the plague ever known in England.
Death, sorrow, and poverty spread from house to house, until the
exceptions were those that did not bear a red cross in token of the
existence of disease within. The queen-mother quitted the country, and,
as the epidemic increased, the court was removed to Salisbury.

Many people attributed the plague to the appearance of a comet that had
been observed a few months before. We of the present day laugh at such
an absurd superstition; but in the seventeenth century a visit from
one of those heavenly bodies was always contemplated with awe by the
ignorant, who were unfortunately in the majority. King Charles was not
of the number, for he had a taste for astronomy, and was delighted to
have an opportunity of studying the comet in its different phases. For
this purpose he spent several nights at the observatory at Greenwich, a
building that he had founded, and Queen Catharine stayed with him twice
until she saw the curiosity also. She was not gratified the first time,
because astronomical calculations were not so accurate as they are at
present.

The king opened parliament in the autumn, when they voted him supplies
to carry on the Dutch war, which he greatly needed; for he was at that
time paying a thousand pounds weekly out of his own private purse to
relieve the sufferings caused by the plague.

[[A.Dr 1666.]] The following year opened sadly for Catharine, because
it brought news of the death of her beloved mother, the Queen-regent of
Portugal. All the court put on the deepest mourning, and were directed
"to wear their hair plain, and to appear without spots on their faces."
This referred to the patches of black plaster that disfigured the court
ladies of that period. A few months later Catharine {214}removed with
her ladies to Tunbridge Wells again for the summer. This was a favorite
resort for the fashionables during the seventeenth century, Queen
Catharine having made it so by her patronage. There, under the shadow
of spreading trees, the gay company would promenade in the morning while
drinking of the waters. On one side of the avenue, formed by the trees,
were little shops filled with toys and all sorts of fancy articles; on
the other was a market. Neat-looking cottages, built here and there
over a mile and a half of ground that surrounded the wells, formed the
dwelling-places of the visitors, who would assemble on the green in the
evening just before sunset for a dance. After dark they would adjourn to
the queen's palace, where all sorts of amusements were indulged in for
several hours. Catharine dispensed with ceremony at this watering-place,
and endeavored to enhance the enjoyment of everybody by so doing. As a
surprise to the king she sent for some actors, who performed comedies
for the entertainment of the court. One member of this company was the
celebrated Nell Gwynne, a beautiful actress, who afterwards became a
lady of the queen's bed-chamber.

While the king and queen, surrounded by their court, were thus engaged
making pleasure the business of their lives, the aspect of public
affairs was most gloomy. The poverty caused by the ravages of the plague
had rendered it impossible to collect taxes, consequently the supplies
voted by parliament for the carrying on of the war were not forthcoming.
France had formed an alliance with Holland, and England was at war with
both powers. Added to these troubles was this: the country was filled
with hirelings of exiled Roundheads, who, while pretending to be
patriots, were really spies, dishonorably intriguing to raise an
insurrection in England.

On the second of September a fire broke out in a baker

{215}

[Illustration: 0221]

{217}shop, at the corner of Thames street, and spread with frightful
rapidity. It raged for four days, and the air was filled with the
shrieks and lamentations of the men, women, and children, who rushed
from one place to another after being obliged to desert their homes,
knowing not whither to turn in order to save themselves from the
devouring flames and the tottering churches and dwellings. The king and
the Duke of York worked with the firemen, commanding, encouraging,
and rewarding them; and it was the presence of mind of the latter that
stopped the fire at last, by blowing up several houses. This precaution
saved the old Temple Church, the Tower, and Westminster Abbey. It was in
seasons of danger and disaster that King Charles II. always appeared to
the greatest advantage, by displaying a paternal care for the welfare of
his subjects. After the fire he caused tents and huts to be erected in
the vicinity of London for those who were left homeless, and provided
them with food and fuel. He was, besides, remarkably lenient to those
who could not pay taxes, because of the poverty occasioned by the
plague, though he was thereby deprived of the means to pay his seamen,
and obliged to order the ships to lay-by.

If Charles had been as faithful to his wife as he was to his subjects
she would have been a very happy woman; but about this time he was
imitating Henry VIII. by contemplating a divorce, because he had fallen
in love with Frances Stuart, a maid-of-honor, and one of the most
beautiful women of her day. This was a cause of great anxiety to the
queen, but fortunately not for a long time, because her rival married
the Duke of Richmond and went to Denmark to live. That put an end to the
divorce question; but Lord Clarendon brought down the king's vengeance
on his head by favoring Frances Stuart's marriage, and even using his
efforts to bring it about. Charles never forgave his chancellor for that
offence.

[A.D. 1667.] {218}Shortly after this marriage there was a masked ball at
court, at which the king and queen danced together. On St. George's Day
Charles celebrated the festival of the Garter with all the ceremonies
as they were originally observed when that order was founded. Offerings
were made at the altar by the sovereign and his knights, after which
they partook of a feast at the Palace of Whitehall. The king sat at a
table on a dais alone, and part of the time the queen stood at his left
hand as a spectator. The knights sat at a table ranged the whole length
of the room to the right of the king, and at the middle of the feast
they all arose and drank his health, whereupon the trumpets sounded
and the Tower guns were fired. At the conclusion of the feast all the
provisions that were left over were distributed among the crowd,
that always assembled at the end of the hall, near the door, on such
occasions. It was the custom in olden times, even to the end of the
Stuart dynasty, for the kings and queens of England to dine in public;
and any well-behaved, decent-looking person was free to take his
stand in the dining-room to watch the proceedings. Charles II. was so
good-natured that he would often hand a taste of some delicacy to one of
the spectators on such an occasion, and won many hearts by his gracious
manners. He would converse freely, too, with those who happened to stand
near enough. A well-known wit told him one day while he was dining "that
matters were in a bad state, but there was a way to mend all." The king
looked at him inquiringly, and he continued: "There is an honest, able
man I could name, that if your majesty would employ and command to see
things well-executed, all things would soon be mended, and that is one
Charles Stuart, who now spends his time as if he had no employment; but
if you would give him employment, he were the fittest man in the world
to perform it." {219}After Lord Clarendon fell into disfavor with the
king, he was replaced by Buckingham, a very bad, witty man, who had
great influence with Charles. He was an enemy to Catharine, and proposed
to his sovereign several plans for ridding himself of her; but they
were all too absurd and too revolting for even Charles II. to consider,
unprincipled as he was.

[[A.D. 1668.]] Seven years had elapsed since the marriage of Catharine
of Braganza, and still the promised half of her marriage-portion had
not been paid. Civil wars in Portugal succeeded the death of the
queen-regent and exhausted the treasury. At last news arrived in England
that the king had been deposed, and his younger brother, Don Pedro,
placed on the throne instead. Everything connected with her family and
her native land interested Queen Catharine very much, and it distressed
her to hear of the struggle that had been going on there for so many
months.

[[A.D. 1669.]] The king sympathized with her and treated her with a
great deal of consideration in her anxiety. She had an opportunity
of reciprocating not very long after; for Henrietta, the Duchess of
Orleans, made a short visit at the English court, and died three weeks
after her return to France. She and Catharine then met for the first
time, and formed a warm attachment for each other; so her death was
a source of real sorrow to the queen. Charles gave vent to the most
passionate grief when he heard the startling news, for he was warmly
attached to his only sister, who had befriended him during his exile.

After the court took off mourning for the Duchess of Orleans, Queen
Catharine indulged her fondness for dancing by giving balls and
masquerades; the latter becoming so much the rage as to resemble in some
respects a carnival.

Separate parties would be formed by the king and queen, {220}with
the ladies and gentlemen of the court; and so disguised as not to be
recognized by their most intimate friends, they would go about in search
of adventure. On such occasions they would enter any house where a party
was going on, mingle with the invited guests, and commit some of the
wildest pranks imaginable, only taking care that their rank should not
be suspected. Once the queen got separated from her party, and by some
mistake was left quite alone. She was a long way from home, and did not
dare to announce who she was. In great alarm she stood in the street
until a hack came along, when she summoned it and was driven to
Whitehall. Whether or no she took the driver into her confidence has not
been recorded.

During such escapades, of course, both their majesties were subjected to
liberties from their subjects, which they bore most good naturedly. The
king, especially, seldom resented even the most caustic sarcasms from
his courtiers, though he generally returned a spicy repartee.

The Earl of Rochester once wrote upon Charles's chamber door:--

               "Here lies our sovereign lord the king,

                   Whose word no man relies on;

               Who never said a foolish thing,

                   And never did a wise one."

"Very true," returned King Charles, after reading the lines. "My doings
are those of my ministers, but my sayings are my own."

[[A.D. 1671.]] Once when Queen Catharine was at her palace in Suffolk,
with her court, she determined to have a little frolic; and for
that purpose took the Duchesses of Richmond and Buckingham into her
confidence. This was her plan: A fair was being held at the neighboring
town of Saffron Walden, and there her majesty meant to go in disguise.
So the three ladies dressed themselves like

{221}

[Illustration: 0227]

{223}country girls, in short, red petticoats, intending to mingle with
the crowd, fondly hoping that they would not be recognized. Catharine
was sensible enough to select for her cavalier Sir Bernard Gascoigne, a
brave old gentleman, loved and respected by all who knew him; and a warm
personal friend to the king. Mounted behind this cavalier, on an old
cart-horse, and followed by the other ladies, each riding in the same
primitive fashion with her escort, the party set out. But they had
copied their costumes, not from those of the peasants, but from the
representation of them at the theatres. So as soon as they arrived on
the fair-grounds they were mistaken for a company of strolling players;
and supposing that they would soon begin to perform, the rustics
followed them in crowds. When the queen entered one of the booths to buy
"a pair of yellow stockings for her beau," a man who had seen her at one
of the public state dinners recognized her, and, proud of his superior
knowledge, announced his sovereign's presence at once. The information
spread like wildfire, and the court party returned home, followed by a
motley crowd.

The same year the king and queen made a tour through several counties,
and were sumptuously entertained. At its conclusion, Catharine remained
quietly at Euston Hall, in Suffolk, with her ladies, while the king
attended the Newmarket races, attended by his lively courtiers.

[[A.D. 1677.]] The marriage of the king's nephew, William, Prince of
Orange, with Princess Mary, eldest daughter of the Duke of York, was
celebrated at Whitehall in November; and as the anniversary of the
queen's birth occurred the same month, there was occasion for double
rejoicing. Catharine had known the young princess almost from the day of
her birth, and felt a warm attachment for the motherless girl.

When the time came for her departure for Holland with {224}her husband,
she fell on the queen's breast and burst into tears.

Catharine endeavored to soothe her by recounting her own experience in
having come to England a perfect stranger, without even having seen the
man she was to marry.

But Mary thought no sorrow could equal hers; and replied, between
her sobs: "Yes; but, madam, you came into England, and I am leaving
England."

If she could have looked into the aching heart of the woman who was
offering words of comfort scarcely needed she would have been awed into
silence. Poor Catharine's position at that period was worse than ever
before. The Earl of Shaftesbury, an ambitious, revengeful, dishonorable
man, was her avowed enemy, and bent upon her destruction; so he had
influenced the king to absent himself from her in the hope that time and
separation would at last induce him to consent to a divorce. He was not
successful in this; but he was so in bringing about the popish plot, his
intention being to destroy the queen and rob the Duke of York, whom he
hated also, of his right of succession.

We do not intend to give all the details of this wicked plot; but it
played such an important part of Queen Catharine's life that we will, in
as few words as possible, explain the nature of it. We must go back to
a year or two after her marriage, for it was then that Catharine made
a serious mistake, which caused her name to be connected with this plot
nearly fifteen years later. Catharine's anxiety to have the independence
of Portugal acknowledged by the pope was so great that soon after she
got to England she induced her husband to send Richard Bellings, one of
the gentlemen of her household, on a mission to Rome. The object was to
promise his holiness that if he {225}would extend his protection to her
native land she would use her utmost endeavors to advance the Catholic
cause in England; adding that her desire to accomplish this had been
the sole cause of her marriage. Letters of the same purport were sent
to several of the cardinals also. Her appeal had the desired effect; but
Bellings let out the secret, and the vigilant enemies of Queen Catharine
made a note of it, to be used against her when opportunity offered.

[[A.D. 1678.]] Titus Oates and Bedloe were the infamous characters
selected to swear away the lives of a large number of innocent persons.

Oates was the son of a weaver and preacher, and a villain of the
deepest dye. If he had not been so brainless as to swear to a tissue
of falsehoods too palpable to gain credence, rivers of blood would have
been shed, and the disgraceful scenes that attended the St. Bartholomew
massacre in France would have been repeated in England. But when the
king questioned him and Bedloe, their statements as to the place and
manner that the queen had used for declaring her intention of poisoning
his majesty were so absurd that they stood self-convicted.

King Charles never for a moment suspected his wife of any attempt on his
life; and he knew, besides, that although the Duke of York, his brother,
had become a member of the Catholic church, it had not been through her
instrumentality.

But the public mind was aroused to such a pitch by the daily inventions
of Oates and his adherents that the business of life was interrupted,
and the wildest statements were eagerly accepted as indisputable facts.

Catharine was even accused of having caused the murder of Godfrey, a
city magistrate, whose body was found on the highway, pierced with his
own sword. {226}It was Shaftesbury who prompted Oates in all he said and
did, though he was wily enough to keep himself in the background. It was
he who secured from parliament, for the shameless perjurer, a pension
of twelve hundred pounds a year for the information he had given, in
consequence of which all the Roman Catholic peers were deprived of their
seats in that body.

All this time Queen Catharine was surrounded by spies, ready to pounce
upon any action of hers that might be perverted into an appearance of
guilt; but her honesty and simplicity of character spoke so loudly in
her favor that there was not a true-hearted man in the realm who was not
assured of her entire innocence.

But she was aware of her danger, and expected nothing less than that she
would be brought to the block, as Charles I. had been. She, therefore,
sent a messenger, to her brother, Don Pedro, informing him of her
situation, and asking his protection in case her life should be in
jeopardy. Her adviser was Count Castelmelhor, a noble Portuguese exile,
who proved of such service to Queen Catharine that she helped him to
retrieve his lost fortune by purchasing a new estate for him, to which
he gave the name of Santa Catarina, out of compliment to her.

King Charles offered five hundred pounds for the murderer of Godfrey.
Tempted by so large a sum, Bedloe, Oates's colleague, and a discharged
convict, swore that the deed had been done by the queen's popish
servants; and that he had been offered two thousand guineas to assist in
the removal of the body, which he saw lying on the queen's back stairs.
When cross-examined, this rascal contradicted himself, and described the
portion of the palace where he beheld the corpse so inaccurately as to
prove conclusively that he had never been in it at all.

The members of the house of commons were paralyzed {227}with
astonishment at their next session, when Oates advanced to the bar, and,
raising his voice, exclaimed: "I, Titus Oates, accuse Catharine, Queen
of England, of high treason."

[Illustration: 0233]

His partners in villany, taking advantage of those present, who were
so surprised as to remain speechless, voted an address to the king,
requesting the removal of his wife to the Tower. But the lords refused
to admit the testimony of such men as Oates and Bedloe, so appointed
a committee to investigate the charges brought against her majesty.
Shaftesbury protested, but he was overruled.

King Charles was perfectly conscious of a conspiracy against his wife,
and vowed that he would not suffer her to be wronged. His indignation
was so great that he began to treat her with such affection and respect
as she had not known for many a day at his hands. He had Oates arrested,
but was obliged to release him; and then the man {228}went beyond all
bounds. Five Catholic lords were sent to the Tower on account of his
accusations against them; thirty thousand Catholics were driven out of
London from terror, and arrests and executions were of daily occurrence.

[[A.D. 1679.]] Some of the queen's servants were of the number, much to
her horror and grief, and the Duke of York frequently assured her that
his turn and hers would come next. Although the king feared the popular
rage, he absolutely refused to permit the queen to stand a trial when
his privy-council proposed it, because he knew it would not be a fair
one. Shortly after he went to Newmarket with the queen, and while they
were there Bedloe died. In his last confession he swore that so far as
he knew both the queen and the Duke of York were innocent of any attempt
on the king's life, or of any murder whatever, and that all the evidence
he had formerly given was false.

[[A.D. 1680.]] The popish plot closed with the execution of Lord
Stafford, a tragedy that ought not to have taken place. But we have
one more circumstance to relate, an anti-climax to the popish plot. One
Fitzharris appeared upon the scene, and accused the queen and the Duke
of York of a design to poison the king.

Charles immediately summoned parliament to meet at Oxford, March 21.
Escorted by a troop of horse-guards, and accompanied by the queen, he
proceeded to the appointed place, where the royal couple were greeted
with enthusiasm by the students of the university, who made addresses
of welcome, while the authorities prepared a feast and other rejoicings.
Shaftesbury arrived with his party and a crowd of armed retainers, who
wore hatbands with the inscription, "No popery! No slavery!"

King Charles's first parliament sat for eighteen years, and was called
the long parliament; this one was to sit for six {229}days, and ought
therefore to have been styled the short parliament. Fitzharris was a
member of the church of Rome, and great results were anticipated from
his statements. The house of commons wanted the trial managed one way,
the lords another, and a furious dispute arose. So, without
mentioning his intention to a soul, the king had himself carried in a
closely-curtained sedan chair to the house. He wore his robes of state
and carried his crown concealed on his lap. He entered the house of
lords unannounced, took his seat on the throne, placed the crown upon
his head, and bade the usher summon the commons. The moment they entered
he told them "that proceedings which began so ill could not end
in good," and commanded the lord chancellor to declare parliament
dissolved. Before they had time to recover from their astonishment, the
king and queen were on the road to Windsor, escorted by their guard.

If Charles had displayed the same determination and courage at the
beginning of the popish plot, how much innocent blood might have been
spared, and what misery prevented! Fitzharris was tried for treason and
executed.

[[A.D. 1683.]] About three years after the popish plot another was
formed by some minor conspirators, their object being to kill both the
king and the Duke of York, his brother; but Providence interposed to
prevent such a foul murder before the plans of the conspirators had been
completed. The Duke of Monmouth revealed the plot, which brought several
prominent men to the block.

[[A.D. 1684.]] It was so cold the following winter that the Thames was
frozen over, and an ox was roasted whole in a fire built on the ice.
This was done while a fair was being held; the booths for the purpose
were stationed along the banks of the river, and there was a great
deal of merrymaking, though the winter was a hard one for poor people,
because provisions were so high and fuel so scarce. {230}

[Illustration: 0236]

The queen's birthday that year was celebrated with great splendor, and
there was the finest display of fireworks in front of the palace ever
seen in England. The same night there was a grand ball, at which all the
court ladies and gentlemen danced in costumes that were unusually rich
and elegant.

[[A.D. 1685.]] {231}This was the last entertainment that King Charles
ever attended, for on the second of February of the following year he
had an attack' of apoplexy that resulted in death four days later. He
was bled until he was almost exhausted, and then his bedroom was
so crowded with people, night and day, that he had little chance of
recovery. Most of the time it contained five bishops, twenty-five lords,
the councillors, foreign ambassadors, doctors, and attendants, besides
the queen, and the Duke and Duchess of York.

The queen was overcome with grief, and once when the dying man sent for
her she was too convulsed to attend, but sent a messenger to beg his
pardon if ever she had offended him. "Alas, poor lady!" exclaimed
Charles, "she begs my pardon! I beg hers with all my heart." After that
she took her place at his bedside and stayed with him to the end.

Both the Duke of York and Catharine were exceedingly anxious that the
king should receive the last rites of the Catholic church, because they
knew it was what he would prefer if he were conscious of his danger, but
they dared not propose it, as it was contrary to the laws of England
for any one to influence another in that direction. At last the French
ambassador consulted the Duke of York on the subject, and impressed upon
him the necessity of having extreme unction administered before it was
too late.

Returning to his brother's room, the duke knelt by the bed and asked
in a low voice: "Sir, will you receive the sacrament of the Catholic
church?"

"Ah! I would give anything in the world to have a priest," faintly
replied the dying monarch. "I will bring you one," returned the duke.
"For God's sake, brother, do!" exclaimed the king. Then he added: "But
will you not expose yourself to danger by doing it?" {232}"Sir, though
it cost me my life, I will bring you one," said the duke.

Father Huddleston was selected, because for many reasons he was the
least objectionable of the Catholic priests in England, and had for many
years been a personal friend to the king, whose life he had once saved.
He arrived between seven and eight o'clock on the evening of the fifth.
Now it became necessary to clear the sick-room of those who would have
objected to the performance of the Catholic rites; the Duke of York
managed the difficult matter in this way:--

Kneeling down by his dying brother he whispered "that all things were
ready and Father Huddleston in attendance, and asked if he would see
him?"

"Yes, with all my heart!" eagerly replied Charles, in a loud voice.

Turning to the room-full of people, the duke said:

"Gentlemen, his majesty wishes every one to withdraw but the Earls of
Bath and Feversham."

Then Father Huddleston, disguised in a wig and cassock, such as the
clergy of the Church of England always wore, was led up a secret
staircase, through the queen's apartments, into the king's room.

As he entered the alcove in which stood the king's bed, the duke
presented him, saying: "Sir, I bring you a man who once saved your life;
he now comes to save your soul."

Charles replied, in a weak voice, "He is welcome."

At the conclusion of the Romish rites the company were readmitted; and
Kean, an English minister, prayed with the king.

During the night the dying man spoke affectionately to his brother, and
asked forgiveness of his wife. At six in the morning he asked the time,
and said: "Draw the cur-

{233}

[Illustration: 0239]

tain, {235}and open the window, that I may behold the light of the sun
for the last time."

Before noon Charles II. expired, in the fifty-fourth year of his age.
He was buried on the fourteenth of February, at Westminster Abbey, after
lying in state for a week. He was deeply mourned by his subjects; for
no sovereign ever had the attributes of popularity more fully developed
than King Charles II.

Queen Catharine's grief on account of the death of her husband was
great. The new king treated her with kindness and consideration. She was
permitted to retain her rooms at Whitehall as long as she chose; but
on the eighth of April, after two months of mourning, she removed to
Somerset House, where she established her court as queen-dowager.

Catharine no longer danced or took part in gayety of any kind; but
she indulged her love for music by giving regular concerts at Somerset
House.

[[A.D. 1688-9.]] Several times she made up her mind to return to her
native land, but fortunately did not do so; for if she had she
would have lost every penny of her dower as queen-dowager during the
Revolution, which terminated in the exile of James II. and his family,
and the placing of the Prince of Orange on the throne of England.
She wisely weathered the storm, although she was subjected to many
mortifications and insults in consequence.

After William III. was on the throne he had occasion to go to Ireland;
so before departing he sent Lord Nottingham to tell Catharine that he
had heard of certain meetings, held at Somerset House, for the purpose
of denouncing his government; he therefore desired her to remove either
to Windsor or Audley End.

Astonished at such a message, but not in the least alarmed, she replied:
"That it was her desire to quit his {236}territory for Portugal, if he
would but have appointed ships for her voyage; but, as it was, she did
not intend to go out of her own house."

The next day William sent profuse apologies, and bade the queen "not to
think of removing."

[[A.D. 1692.]] A few months later the royal widow gave notice of her
intention to leave England; but it was not until the spring of 1692
that she was able to carry it into effect. She had then been living
in retirement for several years, and had saved a large sum of money to
carry back to Portugal.

Several English ladies of rank attended her; and as soon as Louis XIV.
heard of her arrival in France he sent an escort to conduct her through
his dominion. But she was so anxious to get to her native land that she
would not accept the invitation he extended her to visit his court.

Queen Catharine was met on the Spanish border by a train of Portuguese
nobles of the highest rank; and on her arrival at Lisbon she was greeted
with the most enthusiastic welcome.

Don Pedro met her on the road in grand state. He descended from his
carriage and went to the door of hers; then, after an affectionate
embrace, the queen alighted, entered her brother's coach, and was
conducted in procession to one of the country palaces that had been
prepared for her. The Queen of Portugal, Donna Maria Sophia, received
her at the head of the grand staircase, and after the observance of all
the regular court ceremonies, went home with her husband, to enable the
tired traveller to rest.

[A.D. 1704.] When Don Pedro was obliged some years later, for the sake
of policy, to withdraw from the cares of government, he left the charge
of his dominions entirely {237}his sister Catharine, and when he
was dangerously ill the following year, she was solemnly constituted
Queen-regent of Portugal.

[[A.D. 1705.]] The country was then engaged in a war with the King of
Spain, and "Donna Catharine" conducted the campaign with such skill that
her popularity increased tenfold.

A sudden attack of colic [Likely Appendicitis. DW] put an end to her
existence the very last day of the year that had been such a brilliant
success to her. The king, her brother, hastened to her as soon as he
heard of her illness, but arrived only an hour before she expired.

Queen Catharine left liberal legacies to all her relations, though Don
Pedro was her heir. The poor were not forgotten, and various monasteries
were provided for by her will. She had chosen the royal monastery of
Belem for the place of her interment, and the funeral ceremony was
performed with all the grandeur and solemnity that would have been
observed if Catharine of Braganza had been a reigning sovereign. Her
bier was carried by eight noblemen of the very highest rank to the
litter, on which it was conveyed to Belem, attended by all her retinue,
and by the whole court of the king, her brother.

As a testimony of respect all public buildings, business-houses, and
places of amusement were closed for a week, and the court wore mourning
for a year.

Catharine was greatly lamented in Portugal, where even to the present
day her name is mentioned with the utmost veneration. She outlived
Charles II. twenty-one years, and was devoted to his memory until she
died. {238}




CHAPTER IX. MARY BEATRICE OF MODENA, QUEEN-CONSORT OF JAMES II.

(A.D. 1659-1718.)

|The city of Modena in Italy was the birthplace of some of the greatest
poets and painters of that land of artists, and it was there that the
heroine of this narrative was born. Her father, the Duke of Modena, was
a learned man, and would probably have made his mark in the world if he
had lived long enough; but he died young, and left his Duchess Laura to
rule in his stead.

This lady had two little children, a boy, who later became Francis
II. of Modena, and Mary Beatrice. Prince Rinaldo d'Este, afterwards a
cardinal, was appointed guardian of the children, and assisted their
mother in educating them.

Francisco, as the boy was called during his minority, was two years
younger than his sister, consequently when his father died the duchess
ruled the state many years before he was fit to do so.

She was rather a stern mother,--her fear, lest overindulgence might
spoil her little ones, making her notice trifling faults that in some
instances it would have been wiser to have overlooked. She insisted upon
hard study several hours every day, and never allowed any of the fasts
imposed by the church to be omitted, though both the children were
delicate. When Mary Beatrice was frightened at seeing a chimney-sweep
descend into her nursery through the fireplace, her mother made the man
remain until she had shown the child who he was, and explained

{239}

[Illustration: 0245]

{241}Why he looked so black and dirty. On one occasion the attention
of the duchess-regent was drawn to the fact that hard study was wearing
upon the young duke's health. "Better that I should have no son, than a
son without wit and merit," replied the parent.

[[A.D. 1666.]] Mary's first real sorrow was when her governess, of whom
she was very fond, entered a convent, and she grieved so sorely that
she was sent to the same institution to finish her education. There she
spent several happy years; for the discipline was much less rigid than
it had been at the palace, and she had the companionship of girls of her
own age. The books that were placed in her hands, and the influence by
which Mary was surrounded at the convent, filled her youthful mind with
mystic romance, and gave her a desire to imitate the female saints whose
lives had been devoted to the service of God. Besides, she had an aunt
in the convent, scarcely fifteen years older than herself, who was
preparing to take the veil, and Mary Beatrice loved her so much that she
desired to follow her example. But she was not to lead a life of peace
and repose: a different destiny awaited her, as we shall see.

James, Duke of York, was brother to Charles II., and the second son
of Henrietta Maria and Charles I. of Great Britain. He was a gifted
engineer, and for many years occupied the post of Lord Admiral of
England, when he established colonies in different parts of the world,
and advanced trade with foreign countries. After being a prisoner in his
native land for many months, during the struggles of his father's reign,
the duke made his escape to Holland and shared his brother's exile,
never returning to England until the time of the restoration. While his
mother was living in France he entered the army of that country as
a volunteer, and fought so valiantly for the royalist cause that the
French commander said: "If any man in {242}the world was born without
fear it was the Duke of York."

There is a portrait of this prince in the royal gallery at Versailles,
painted when he was about twenty-two years old, which represents him as
one of the handsomest men of his time. His brown hair is brushed from
his brow and falls in ringlets at the back; his eyes are large, dark,
and expressive, lips full and red, complexion warm and healthful. This
picture was painted before he had the small-pox, for that dreadful
disease made a sad alteration in his appearance later in life.

The Duke of York distinguished himself on the battlefields of Spain
after he was driven from France, where he had served in four campaigns,
and was offered a very high position. He would not accept, because he
was always expecting affairs to take such a shape in his native land as
to permit his return..

[[A.D. 1660.]] Shortly after that important change did occur,--the
restoration of Charles II.,--the duke fell in love with Anne Hyde,
daughter of Clarendon, and married her in spite of a great deal of
opposition on all sides.

[[A.D. 1667.]] By the time he was thirty-four years of age his wife and
several of his children were dead. Two daughters were spared, who caused
their father much bitter sorrow, as we shall see in the course of this
biography. About seven years after the death of his wife the Duke of
York fell in love with a lady of humble birth; but his brother, the
king, put a stop to any thought of marriage with her, and sent the Earl
of Peterborough to visit the different princesses of Europe and select
for James a wife whose station in life would be equal to his own.

[[A.D. 1673.]] The ambassador's choice fell on Marv Beatrice of Modena,
whom he was enabled to see through the convent grating by the good
offices of a priest. The {243}duke had secretly charged Peterborough to
be very careful in his selection, and to give him a faithful description
of the lady he preferred before settling anything.

Now, it must not be supposed that the ambassador made his choice without
a great many annoyances, for he had to visit several courts, and as the
object of his trip was suspected, he was placed in very embarrassing
positions when the particular princess he was considering did not
possess the requirements he deemed indispensable. And even after he had
decided that Mary Beatrice of Modena should have the honor of becoming
Queen of England, his trouble was not at an end by any means; for
the young lady had planned a different sort of life for herself, and
objected very decidedly to the lofty position now offered to her.

The Earl of Peterborough intended to proceed very cautiously, and not to
make known his errand until he was quite sure of success. He therefore
lodged himself at an inn like an ordinary traveller; but the second
morning after his arrival a man named Nardi presented himself with a
letter from the duchess-regent. The earl's surprise at being so honored
was increased when he read what the lady wrote. It was, that having
heard the object of his journey to Italy, she deemed it her duty to
inform him that her daughter had resolved to become a nun, but added
that there were other princesses in her family, to one of whom, if the
duke, his master, thought fit, he might be permitted to address himself.
She sent also a cordial invitation for the ambassador to come to court
"where she should deem it an honor to welcome him." The earl was not
flattered at the anxiety displayed by the duchess to refuse him her
daughter before he had made his offer, so he pretended that his visit
had no special object, but that he was a private traveller, with
no desire to interfere with anybody's plans. This was only a little
stratagem on the part of the {244}duchess; for she was dazzled with the
thought of her daughter becoming the wife of the heir presumptive to
the throne of England, but thought it best not to appear overanxious.
However, she took the precaution to speak to Mary Beatrice on the
subject at a very early stage of the proceedings.

Mary Beatrice was less than fifteen, but she was tall, womanly, and very
beautiful, with hair, eyes and eyebrows black as jet, and a clear olive
complexion. She read and wrote Latin and French, painted well, and was
an excellent musician, but of history and geography she was thoroughly
ignorant. When her mother announced that the Duke of York desired to
marry her, she asked: "Who is the Duke of York?" and upon being told
that he was brother to the King of England, whom he would succeed to
the crown, she replied: "That she had never heard of such a place
as England, nor of such a person as the Duke of York." The duchess
explained more fully, and casually mentioned that the duke was in his
fortieth year; then Mary Beatrice burst into tears and implored her aunt
to marry him instead, saying "that as she was thirty years of age she
was more fit to become the wife of a man of forty than she herself was,
being only fifteen." No amount of persuasion could reconcile her to the
thought of marrying a man twenty-five years her senior, and she declared
her determination to become a nun. So eloquently did she plead her own
cause that her uncle and her mother's prime minister were won over, and
encouraged the princess in her refusal to marry.

Meanwhile a messenger arrived from England to inform the earl that
the Marquis of Dangeau had been despatched from France to assist in
concluding the matrimonial alliance between England and Modena, adding
that it was suspected that an aunt was to be substituted for the young
princess, {245}but that she was quite unsuitable to the Duke of York,
therefore no such exchange was to be permitted.

A week later the marquis arrived and had an interview with the duchess.
He pointed out to her the advantages of such a powerful ally as England,
and assured her that the King of France had requested him to use his
utmost influence to forward the marriage. His eloquence prevailed with
the duchess, the court, and council; but the prime minister, Father
Garimbert, remained firm, and continued to espouse the side of the young
princess.

The duchess then sent for the Earl of Peterborough, and informed him of
the change in her determination. The next consideration was, to obtain
a dispensation from the pope, because the Duke of York had not openly
avowed himself a Catholic. The Abbe Dangeau, brother to the marquis, was
sent to Rome for that purpose, and while he was gone the duchess sent
for the Earl of Peterborough, and after making profuse apologies,
explained why she had regarded the proposed alliance with so much
disfavor at first, her principal reason being the desire of the princess
to enter a convent. The earl expressed a wish to see Mary Beatrice that
evening, and was conducted to the palace at the appointed hour for that
purpose.

He approached the young girl with great formality, and told her that he
must ask her pardon for desiring her to leave her peaceful retreat; but
as soon as he saw her portrait he knew that she was the woman, of all
others, to make his prince happy, and that since he had seen her he was
more convinced of it than before. She answered crossly, "that she was
obliged to the King of England and the Duke of York for their good
opinion of her, but she had vowed herself for another sort of life than
marriage;" then with tears in her eyes she desired his excellency, "if
he had any influence with his master, to oblige {246}her by endeavoring
to avert any further persecutions of a maid who did not wish to marry."
She added: "That there were other princesses in Italy, even in her own
family, who would not be unworthy of so great an honor, and who deserved
it much better than she did."

She referred to her aunt, but the earl pretended not to understand, and
continued to urge his suit. Mary Beatrice spoke her mind as a petulant
girl of fifteen is apt to do, and then left the room with her mother.

The ambassador complained of her behavior to one of the ministers, who
told him that the ladies of Italy had no will but that of their friends,
therefore he need give himself no concern about the matter. Acting
upon this hint, the earl reminded the minister that everything must be
settled before the next meeting of parliament, because they would object
to the marriage of the duke with a Catholic princess.

The dispensation had been refused at Rome, but in spite of that and of
the tears and lamentations of Mary Beatrice the marriage treaty was soon
completed. The Bishop of Modena refused to perform the ceremony; but
White, a poor English minister, who had no fear of excommunication,
undertook it.

The marriage portion amounted to eighty thousand pounds, to be paid
at different periods, part of it being furnished by Louis IV., who had
always treated Mary Beatrice as his adopted daughter.

[[A.D. 1674.]] The ceremony was performed on the thirtieth of September,
the Earl of Peterborough, who acted as proxy for the Duke of York,
placing a valuable diamond ring on the bride's finger. Afterwards there
was a grand banquet, and the earl sat under a canopy at the head of the
table with the bride, now called her royal highness the Duchess of York.
In the evening there was

{247}

[Illustration: 0253]

{249}dancing, and everybody seemed happy excepting the bride, whose
heart was very heavy at the thought of so soon leaving the home and
companions of her childhood. She had struggled with all her might
against destiny, and had made the most determined efforts to preserve
her freedom, all of no avail. She had been led to the altar like a lamb
to the sacrifice, and her lips had pronounced the vows from which her
soul had shrunken.

When the news reached the Duke of York that the ceremony had been
performed, he was talking to a circle of friends in the drawing-room.
"Then I am a married man!" he exclaimed, and that night sent word to his
daughter, Mary "that he had provided a playfellow for her."

The duke had given his ambassador instructions to bring his bride to
England with as little parade and as few foreign attendants as possible;
but she screamed and cried in such a way when preparations for her
journey were being made that her mother was obliged to promise to
accompany her to England, and her brother to go part of the way. Three
Italian ladies of the highest rank were permitted among her bed-chamber
appointments. They were Madame Molza, Madame Montecuculi, and her
daughter, Anna, a young girl of seventeen. A lady named Turenie, who had
been governess to the princess from her infancy, was added to the
list also. These four ladies proved devoted friends, and followed Mary
Beatrice throughout her life.

It had been a trial for the young Duchess of York to bid farewell to her
native place; but when, two days later, she had to part with the brother
who shared her joys and sympathized with her sorrows almost from
her cradle, her burden of grief seemed greater than she could bear.
Forgetting the dignity that her station demanded, or the presence of the
formidable array of English and Italian nobles, she remembered only that
she was losing, perhaps forever, {250}the little brother whom she loved
better than any one in the world. She pressed him to her heart again and
again, and burst into an agony of tears when the youthful prince was led
away. It was a consolation, at least, that her mother was to continue
with her, and her mind was soon diverted by the welcome she received at
the hands of the several princes of Italy, through whose dominions she
passed with her attendants.

On arriving at the French border the bridal train was met by officers of
Louis XIV., who defrayed all the expenses, and conducted them to Paris.
They were lodged at the Arsenal, and magnificently entertained.

All that remains of this building shows what a splendid one it must
have been, but the storms of revolution have passed over it and left it
almost in ruins.

The Earl of Peterborough was anxious to get to England with his charge
as quickly as possible, but Mary Beatrice became so ill that she
was unfit to travel for several weeks. Her disease was a low fever,
occasioned by the mental anxiety she had endured for so many weeks.
After her recovery the young duchess visited Versailles, where she was
received with the highest consideration, and entertained with all
the splendor of that court. It was a dreadful ordeal for so young and
inexperienced a girl to know just what degree of attention to accord
each person without too much condescension on her own part, but
particularly so for one who had no taste for the formalities of royalty,
and greatly preferred the seclusion of a cloister. But Mary Beatrice
excited admiration for her beauty and charming manners, of which the
king showed his appreciation by making her some costly presents. She
had already received jewels valued at twenty thousand pounds from her
unknown husband, which she wore on state occasions while in France.

{251}

[Illustration: 0257]

{253}Meanwhile a strong party in England had leagued itself, under the
leadership of the Earl of Shaftesbury, for the purpose of destroying the
Duke of York, and of getting the reins of the government in their own
hands. This was no easy matter, because his services in his country's
cause, his energy, and his high sense of honor, had rendered him one of
the most popular of princes; but the party opposed to him were ready to
resort to any measures, no matter how vile, to gain their end.

Knowing this, the duke had managed his marriage with the utmost secrecy
and despatch, because the strongest avowed point of opposition was his
adherence to Catholicism, which his alliance with a Catholic princess
would naturally strengthen. So when parliament met, on the twentieth
of October, they were perfectly astonished and highly indignant to hear
from the king's lips that the duke was already married to the Princess
of Modena, who was even then on her way to England. The infuriated
Commons petitioned their sovereign "to appoint a day of general fasting,
that God might avert the dangers with which the nation was threatened."

Charles told them that they might fast as much as they pleased, though
he knew that by so doing they merely desired to show their contempt for
what they called the "popish marriage," though the pope had positively
withheld his consent to it. The members of the king's own cabinet became
alarmed at the threatened storm, and urged his majesty either to forbid
the princess to leave Paris or to dismiss his brother from court,
and insist upon his leading the life of a country gentleman. Charles
indignantly refused both propositions.

The day after parliament met Mary Beatrice landed at Dover, where her
husband awaited her on the beach, and all the citizens had collected
to get a sight of her. {254}The duke received her in his arms, and was
charmed with her at the outset, as well he might have been; but she,
poor child, was not so favorably impressed with a man old enough to be
her father, and showed her aversion plainly. This did not discourage the
groom, who treated her with courtly attention, feeling convinced that he
should win her heart in time.

In the presence of his suite and the bride's, besides a large number of
Dover people, the Duke of York was married to Mary Beatrice according
to the church of England rites, and the little ruby ring placed on her
finger that day was more highly valued to the end of her life than any
jewel the princess possessed.

The second day after the marriage the bride and groom, attended by the
Duchess of Modena, and her brother-inlaw, the Prince Rinaldo d'Este,
besides the members of their court, set out for London. King Charles
went down the river with his court, in the royal barges, to meet the
bridal suite, and received his new sister-in-law with every mark of
affection; then he conducted the party to Whitehall, where his queen
vied with him in her acts of loving attention to the bride.

Even her enemies were for the time being disarmed when they gazed on the
lovely, innocent countenance of the young bride; and at King Charles's
court she was much admired and esteemed.

The Duke and Duchess of York established themselves at St. James's
Palace, where all the foreign ambassadors called to congratulate them,
and where they held their courtly receptions as regularly as the king
and queen did theirs at Whitehall, though on different days. King
Charles was devoted to his brother, and soon became warmly attached
to his wife, but a little coolness was early established between Queen
Catharine and the Duchess of York in

{255}this way: It had been stipulated in the marriage treaty that the
duchess was to have the use of the Catholic chapel at St. James's which
had been fitted up by the queen-mother, Henrietta, for herself and her
household. But King Charles, knowing how unpopular any display of
her religion at that time would make his brother's wife, influenced
Catharine to claim it as one of her chapels, and had a private apartment
in the palace fitted up for the devotions of the young duchess and her
suite. This was a piece of friendship on the part of the king that was
not appreciated by his sister-in-law, who laid the blame on the queen,
with whom she felt quite offended.

At the end of the year the Duchess of Modena was called home by some
intrigues that had been begun during her absence; but although Mary
Beatrice was sorry to part with her, she had by that time begun to love
her husband so much that the parting was not so great a trial as it
would otherwise have been, and the love that was implanted in her heart
developed into a devotion that lasted to the day of her death.

The first years of her married life were passed by the young duchess
in a succession of gayeties. She was often annoyed because her husband
treated her like a child, but as she was little older than his daughter
this is not surprising. In later years circumstances developed the force
of her character, and won the respect and admiration that she truly
merited.

She had the good sense to study English, and soon became a perfect
mistress of the language.

[[A..D. 1675.]] Mary Beatrice had a little daughter born about a year
after her marriage. This was a great pleasure, but it was soon marred
by the duke's refusal to have the baby baptized a Catholic. He did not
object himself, but explained to his wife that their children belonged
to the {256}nation and would be taken from them if not brought up
according to the established church, adding that is was besides the
king's pleasure, to which they must submit. The youthful mother appeared
to yield, but sent for her confessor, Father Gallis, and had the child
baptized on her own bed according to the rites of the church of Rome.

When the king came a day or two later to make arrangements with her and
the duke for the christening of their child, Mary Beatrice told him
that "her daughter was already baptized." Without paying the slightest
attention to this assertion, his majesty ordered the little princess to
be borne to the royal chapel, where she was christened by a Protestant
bishop, her half-sisters, Mary and Anne, acting as sponsors. The baby
was named Catharine Laura after the queen and the Duchess of Modena,
and the Catholic baptism was kept a profound secret, though it must have
been a subject of annoyance to the king.

A fortnight later some very severe laws were made against the Catholics.
One of them forbade any British subject from officiating as a Romish
priest, either in the queen's chapel or elsewhere; another prohibited
any adherent of the Catholic, church to set foot in Whitehall or St.
James's Palace, the penalty for such an offence being imprisonment. This
law of course kept the Duchess of York and the Catholic ladies of her
household from the king's palace, but the young mother was so wrapt up
in her baby that she was indifferent to almost anything besides. She was
happy with her husband also, and lived on terms of close friendship with
her step-daughters, who never accused her of the slightest unkindness
to them, even in later years, when they would have been pleased to bring
any unfavorable accusation against her. But the young mother was soon
to be deprived of the infant she loved so fondly, for it died of a
convulsion before it was ten months old.

{257}This was, of course, a great sorrow to Mary Beatrice, but she was
not permitted to indulge it very long, for before the close of the year
she had to attend a feast given by the lord mayor, and a ball at her own
palace.

[[A.D. 1676.]] Another princess was born the next year, and this time
there was no secret baptism. That ceremony was performed by Dr. North,
Master of Trinity College, and the child was named Isabella. She lived
to the age of five years.

[[A.D. 1677 ]] The following year the marriage between the Princess Mary
and the Prince of Orange was solemnized; and it was this union that
proved so disastrous to the fortunes of the Duchess of York, her
husband, her children.

There was much rejoicing in the household of the Duke when a little
prince made his appearance. He was christened with great pomp by the
Bishop of Durham, and no less a person than the king himself, assisted
by the Prince of Orange, acted as sponsor. Charles bestowed his own name
on his nephew, and created him Duke of Cambridge. The little fellow died
the following month, and was interred, as his sister had been, in the
vault of Mary Queen of Scots, at Westminster Abbey.

The duke grieved more for the death of this boy than he had for any of
his children. The Prince of Orange wrote a letter of condolence; but, as
he was then plotting against his royal father-in-law, and as the death
of the little prince opened the way to the throne for his wife, it is
not probable that he was sincere in his expressions of sympathy. But
Mary Beatrice was ignorant of this, and when she heard that the Princess
of Orange was ill she planned a visit to her, which, after obtaining
the king's consent, she undertook, in company with Princess Anne and
her lord chamberlain, the Earl of Ossory. As it was her desire {258}to
ascertain the true state of Princess Mary's health, and to afford her
comfort, the duchess travelled incognito, and sent a man on before to
hire for her a small house not far from the palace. This was done
to secure free intercourse among the three ladies without any of the
formality required by court etiquette.

[[A.D. 1678.]] Although the visit was a flying one, the duchess found
a storm gathering around her husband on her return which soon compelled
him to give up his seat among the state councillors. His friends advised
him to retire to the continent with his family; but his proud spirit
revolted from any move that would have the appearance of guilt or
cowardice. The king urged him to baffle his enemies by returning to
the church of England, but he refused to act in opposition to his
conscience. Then for the sake of peace, which the "merry monarch" would
have purchased at any cost, Charles advised his brother to go abroad
before the next session of parliament. James consented, providing the
king would command it in writing, but he scorned the idea of running
away. The order was given in the form of an affectionate letter, and on
the fourth of March the Duke and Duchess of York embarked for Holland.
They were not permitted to take their little daughter Isabella to share
their exile, which was a great deprivation to both parents.

[[A.D. 1679.]] The king called on the day of their departure to bid
farewell, and was much affected at parting with the brother whom he
loved so well. The weather was very stormy, and wiping the tears from
his eyes Charles said: "The wind is contrary; you cannot go on board at
present."

Mary Beatrice, who considered that her husband was being sacrificed to
secure his brother's peace of mind, replied with spirit, "What, sir, are
you grieved?--you who

{259}

[Illustration: 0265]

{261}send us into exile! Of course we must go, since you have ordained
it." She regretted this speech later, because she knew that Charles had
only yielded to the clamor of her enemies.

The duke and his wife arrived at the Hague a week later, and were
received by the Prince of Orange with every demonstration of respect.
Later they removed to Brussels, where they occupied the house Charles
II. had lived in before the restoration.

In July the Duchess of Modena joined her daughter, from whom she had
been separated for five years, and the two ladies were rejoiced to meet
again. But the Duke and Duchess of York could not rest contented so
long as their children were away from them, so they wrote to the king
entreating him to send them to. Brussels. He consented, and Princess
Anne, with the infant Princess Isabella, left England on the nineteenth
of August. They had not been with their parents many days when a
messenger, sent by the Earl of Sunderland, arrived in Brussels to inform
the duke of the king's serious illness. James set out at once to
visit his brother without mentioning his intention to any one but Mary
Beatrice, and travelled so privately and so quickly that his presence in
England was not suspected until he presented himself at Windsor at seven
o'clock in the morning. Charles was so much better that he was up and
partly dressed. Fearing that it might injure his brother if it were
known that he had sent for him, the Duke of York knelt and begged
his majesty's pardon for coming before he was recalled. Then all the
courtiers flocked around the traveller and paid their compliments, for
James was really a favorite, and his presence always commanded respect.
The king was so delighted to see him that he declared "nothing should
part them again." However, by the end of a fortnight Charles was
convinced that his {262}brother could no longer remain with him in
safety, but he gave permission for him to remove his family from
Brussels to Scotland. Then the duke went back to the continent, and was
making a farewell visit to the Prince and Princess of Orange, in company
with his wife, his children, and the Duchess of Modena, when a message
arrived from King Charles recalling them all, but directing the duke to
embark for the Downs and remain there till further orders. Everybody
was delighted but the Prince of Orange, who had his own reasons for
objecting to the duke's return; however, he had no voice in the matter
at that time. Two days later Mary Beatrice bade farewell to her mother,
who had passed two months with her, and embarked with her family
for England. The voyage was very stormy, and the duchess suffered
excessively from seasickness. Party excitement ran so high, and the
king's power was so diminished, that by the time the duke arrived at the
Downs a messenger informed him that the king had changed his mind about
his coming to London, and that two frigates were in readiness to convey
him and his family to Leith, in Scotland, where the Duke of Lauderdale
had been ordered to make arrangements for their reception.

The duchess was too ill to proceed further by sea, and her husband did
not dare to take her ashore without a written permission from the king,
so there she lay tossing about in the Downs while an express was sent
to London. Charles was sorry to hear of her miserable condition, and
ordered his brother to bring her to St. James's Palace forthwith. They
were delighted to find themselves safe on _terra firma_ after all they
had suffered; but they were not yet at their journey's end, for the very
night of their arrival the king assured his brother that he had no power
to protect him if he persisted in remaining in England.

A week later two of his friends informed the duke that {263}his majesty
desired him to withdraw to Scotland for a short period, but that his
wife and children might remain under his care at St. James's Palace. But
Mary Beatrice was too devoted a wife to permit her husband to go into
exile alone; so, although it necessitated separation from her little
daughter and a weary journey over roads that were almost impassable, she
went with him.

Every action of the duke's had been so perverted that his great naval
victories were attributed to cowardice, and every other, no matter
how great a benefit it had proved to the nation, to a desire for the
advancement of popery. This being the case, no marks of favor were shown
him as he advanced towards the North, and the discourtesy of the towns
that thirteen years before had lavished attentions on him pained him
excessively.

No sooner did the royal couple reach the Scottish border than everything
was changed, and they were met with every mark of affection and respect.
Three miles from Berwick the Scotch guards, under the Marquis of
Montrose, were drawn up to welcome them, and a little further on two
thousand gentlemen on horseback awaited them. The duke alighted from his
carriage to receive the compliments of the lord chancellor, who headed
the procession; then several of the nobles kissed his hand, and paid the
same respect to the duchess, who sat in her coach. With this numerous
escort their royal, highnesses were attended to the house of Lauderdale
at Lethington, where, with their whole retinue, they were splendidly
entertained until they made their public entry into Edinburgh.

The people of Scotland were so pleased to have the royal family
represented in their country that they were unwilling to believe any of
the calumnies against the duke, and looked forward to great prosperity
from the establishment of a court among them. But James desired to
live {264}as privately as possible to avoid creating jealousy among his
enemies in England.

The Countesses of Peterborough and Roscommon, as several other ladies of
high rank who had been with Mary Beatrice since her marriage, attended
her to Scotland. They found Holyrood Abbey, where they made their home,
far less luxurious than any former palace they had inhabited; but the
duchess made no complaint, and always tried to be cheerful for her
husband's sake.

[[A.D. 1680.]] King Charles had promised his brother that he should not
remain long in exile, and he was as good as his word. At the beginning
of the new year his majesty entered the council chamber and made the
astounding announcement that, as he had derived no benefit from the
absence of his brother, whose lights he knew would be disputed at the
next meeting of parliament, he had ordered him back to London to give
him an opportunity of defending himself.

A great many people were much pleased at this action on the part of the
king, and even offered thanks for it; but the powerful party who were
opposed to everything he did, and objected to the Duke of York as
successor to the crown, were very angry. Their leader, Shaftesbury,
and several other members of the house of lords, resigned on the spot.
Charles declared that "he accepted their resignation with all his
heart."

The Duke and Duchess of York were rejoiced at their recall to England,
but they had gained so many friends in Scotland that their departure
from there caused a great deal of regret. The lords of the council wrote
a letter of thanks to King Charles for the honor he had done them in
sending the duke to their country, and praised his wise and prudent
conduct with much warmth.

The royal couple returned by water, and were saluted by {265}the guns
from the ships and tower as they ascended the river to Whitehall,
where the king stood at the gate to receive them. They were immediately
conducted to the queen's apartment, and then to their own, where they
once more embraced the little daughter whom they had not seen for four
months. That night the city was illuminated, and two days later the city
officers called in a body to congratulate the duke and his wife on their
return. A grand supper was given by the lord mayor in honor of the royal
brothers, and the aldermen drank the king's health on their knees, and
grew so loyal as the wine was swallowed that they "wished every one
hanged and consigned to perdition who would not serve his majesty with
his life and fortune."

The duke and duchess established their court at St. James's Palace,
and gave a series of brilliant balls and feasts that increased their
popularity considerably. Mary Beatrice was so highly respected that even
her bitterest enemies could find no excuse for mixing her name with the
popish plot, of which we gave an account in the last reign.

But Shaftesbury and his colleagues were not to be baffled; they had
determined on the ruin of the Duke of York, and never rested until they
had forced the king to agree to his banishment once more. They wanted
the sea to separate him from England, but Charles compromised in his
usual way, and notified his royal highness that he was to return to
Scotland. The duke was sorely grieved, for he believed that even his
brother had turned against him; and that his banishment to Scotland
would be followed up by something worse. He was the more convinced of
this when, in order to protect himself against the machinations of his
powerful enemies, he demanded of the king a general pardon, under the
great seal, for any offence that might be charged against him, and his
majesty refused. He gave {266}as his reason that it would be injurious
to a man of the duke's exalted rank to have such a document drawn up;
but James became so enraged that he swore "that if he were pushed to
extremity, and saw himself likely to be entirely ruined by his enemies,
he would throw himself into the arms of Louis XIV. for protection." Of
course such a threat was treasonable, and only to be excused on account
of excessive indignation, for the duke was burning under the sense of
wrong and ingratitude from a king and a country in whose service he had
risked his life so often. Poor Mary Beatrice was called upon to part
with her little Isabel again, and this separation was the last, for the
mother never more beheld her only child.

The following beautiful lines by the poet Dryden were written to
commemorate the embarkation of the Duke and Duchess of York, which
occurred on the eighteenth of October:--

               "Go, injured hero! while propitious gales,

                   Soft as thy consort's breath, inspire thy sails;

               Well may she trust her beauties on a flood

                   Where thy triumphant fleets so oft have rode.

               Safe on thy breast reclined, her rest be deep,

                   Rocked like a Nereid by the waves asleep;

               While happiest dreams her fancy entertain,

                   And to Elysian fields convert the main.

               Go, injured hero! while the shores of Tyre

                   At thy approach, so silent shall admire;

               Who on thy thunder shall their thoughts employ,

                   And greet thy landing with a troubling joy."

After a stormy voyage of a week, the Duke and Duchess of York arrived
on the shores of Scotland, and when they observed the joy manifested
by every class of inhabitants at their return, their sad hearts warmed
towards the nation that were so eager to prove their gratitude and
loyalty.

They travelled through Scotland attended by an ever-increasing train of
devoted followers, and received at every

{267}

[Illustration: 0273]

{269}stopping place the most unbounded hospitality. At Leith they were
met by a grand procession, headed by the Earl of Linlithgow, colonel of
his majesty's guards, and a regiment of soldiers, besides nobility and
gentry on horseback, and a long train of coaches filled with councillors
and noble ladies and gentlemen. As they advanced guns fired, bells rang,
bonfires were lighted, and crowds assembled with shouts of welcome. The
city authorities of Edinburgh met their royal highnesses at the gate of
Holy-rood Palace, and the lord provost on his knees presented the silver
keys of the city to the duke, at the same time offering a welcome in the
name of all the citizens.

Holyrood Palace had been repaired and the royal apartments refitted for
the accommodation of the duke and duchess, with their retinue; so their
home was by no means as comfortless as it had been on their former
sojourn there.

The portrait of Mary Beatrice had been painted by Lely just before her
departure from London; and it was the last work of that great artist,
who died before the end of the year.

The duchess was not quite twenty, and at the height of her beauty. She
is represented with her hair falling around her head in luxuriant curls;
her dress is scarlet velvet, embroidered and fringed with gold, cut
low at the neck and filled in with soft cambric, of which material the
flowing sleeves are also made. A full rich scarf, of royal blue fringed
with gold and pearls, crosses one shoulder, and falls in graceful folds
over the lap to the ground. The lady is sitting in a garden, and a tree
in the background is entwined with honey-suckles and roses; her left
hand rests on the neck of a beautiful white Italian greyhound.

A brilliant court was established at Holyrood, and Mary Beatrice
succeeded in winning all hearts by her kind and {270}gracious manners.
Her religion was unpopular, but she intruded it upon no one, and her
conduct was admirable.

Behind the Abbey of Holyrood there was along avenue shaded with stately
oaks, where James was in the habit of taking his daily exercise. The
green strip at the foot of the hill is called "the duke's walk" to this
very day, though all the beautiful trees have been removed.

Mary Beatrice introduced tea-drinking among the Scotch ladies, and the
fashion soon became general, for she was so much admired that it became
a pleasure to imitate her. She was loved because she tried to please,
and the duke was not behind-hand in this respect. His royal highness
established a bond of good fellowship between the nobles and the
mechanics which added greatly to his popularity. It was done in this
way: Tennis and golf, both games played with clubs and balls, were the
favorite amusements among the gentry of Scotland in those days. The duke
enjoyed them also, and always selected a mechanic or tradesman for his
partner. Of course this example was imitated by the courtiers, and thus
high and low were brought into pleasant contact. His royal highness
generally played against the Duke of Lauderdale, who was an excellent
golfer as well as himself. One day they agreed to stake an unusually
large sum of money on the game. James called a shoemaker named John
Paterson to assist him, and after a very hard contest defeated his
opponent. When Lauderdale paid the three or four hundred gold pieces
that he had forfeited, his royal highness handed them to Paterson,
saying: "Through your skill I have won the game, and you are, therefore,
entitled to the reward of the victory." The bonnie Scot was more pleased
with the delicate compliment than with the gold. It was many such acts
that endeared James to the people amongst whom his lot was cast. When
Lochiel, a brave Highlander, was {271}presented at court, the duke
received him with marked courtesy, and questioned him about his
adventures. During the conversation he asked to see the chieftain's
sword, which was delivered into his hands without hesitation. The duke
tried to draw it from the scabbard, but as it was merely a dress-sword,
not meant for use, it had become rusty. After a second attempt he handed
it back to the owner, saying: "That his sword was never so difficult to
draw when the crown wanted its service." Lochiel was so embarrassed that
he did not know what reply to make, but drew the sword and handed it
to his royal highness, who turning to the courtiers present, said: "You
see, my lords, Lochiel's sword gives obedience to no hand but his own!"
and thereupon knighted the Highlander on the spot.

The duke arrived in Scotland just after an insurrection, when many
people lost their lives and property; but he exerted such an excellent
influence that peace was soon restored, and prisoners liberated whenever
they promised to cry "God save the King!" He governed Scotland well for
his brother, and won the love of the populace by always resorting to
the mildest of punishments in opposition to the barbarities practiced by
Lauderdale.

During the winter the duchess met with an accident that nearly cost her
life. She was thrown from her horse, and her long riding-habit becoming
entangled in the saddle, she was dragged some distance and received
several kicks from the terrified animal before she could be rescued.
Fortunately this occurred on a sandy plain, otherwise she must have been
killed. As it was, she was taken up covered with blood and perfectly
insensible. She recovered in time, having received no serious injury,
but was obliged to give up her favorite amusement; for her husband,
who always considered horseback riding dangerous for women, exacted a
promise that she would never so imperil her life again.

[A.D. 1681.] {272}The spring brought bad news, for King Charles sent a
messenger to inform his brother and sister that their little daughter,
Isabel, had died at St. James's Palace. This cruel blow only made the
banishment and persecution of the duke and duchess harder to bear,
and James wrote to his brother for permission to take his wife to some
watering-place in England, saying that she needed the change, and that
the climate of Scotland did not agree with her.

Charles could not grant the request, because he feared that the duke's
return would be the signal for rebellion; but after three or four
months' deliberation the favor of Princess Anne's company was granted to
her parents, and she went to Scotland to join them.

Shortly after her arrival the Duke of York rode in state from Holyrood,
and opened parliament as lord high commissioner from his brother, the
king. The duchess, Princess Anne, and all their ladies were present on
that occasion, and this was such an unusual sight that some of the
old fogies considered it highly indecorous. The Scottish lords and
chieftains had always settled their debates with dagger and sword,
and it was in order to avoid such stormy scenes that the Duke of York
introduced the refining influence of women's presence, and the effect
was highly satisfactory. After the meeting James gave a banquet to the
whole parliament, separate tables being laid for the lords and commons.

The city of Edinburgh returned the compliment with an entertainment
to the Court of Scotland that cost more than fourteen hundred pounds
sterling.

After their royal highnesses recovered from the shock occasioned by the
death of their little daughter, life at Holyrood became one long scene
of gayety and brilliancy. There were balls, plays, and masquerades night
after night,

{273}

[Illustration: 0279]

{275}and musical dramas, similar to the opera of the present day, in
which the Princess Anne and other ladies of quality took part. So long
as the plays were moral, Mary Beatrice honored them with her presence;
for she believed that the stage ought to be a medium for giving
wholesome instruction to the public, but she would countenance nothing
coarse or vulgar.

[[A.D. 1682.]] Affairs took such a favorable turn for James enuring
the following year that he was recalled to England. He arrived with
the Duchess and Princess Anne at Whitehall on the twenty-sixth of May,
having been escorted up the river by a procession of barges, among which
was the one containing the king and queen, who had gone to welcome them.
In the evening the city of London was illuminated, and the rejoicing on
account of the banished duke's return was universal.

[[A.D. 1684.]] St. James's Palace again became the home of the royal
pair, where they had a little daughter born in August, but it died
within a few weeks. Two years later, so firm had the duke's position
become, that he was once more offered the post of lord admiral, which
he eagerly accepted. During the period of peace and national prosperity
that preceded the death of Charles II., Princess Anne married Prince
George of Denmark, but remained with her parents for awhile.

[[A.D. 1685.]] A plan to banish the Duke of York once more had just been
set on foot when King Charles died, and made way for him to mount the
throne as James II. Mary Beatrice felt so grieved at the death of her
brother-in-law that she could not rejoice at her own advancement; for
Charles had been uniformly kind and amiable towards her, and she knew
that she had lost a friend when he died.

Compliments and congratulations were showered upon {276}the new king
from all sides, and on the first Sunday after his accession he was
prayed for from every pulpit in the metropolis. King James began his
reign with some very necessary reforms; he forbade drinking and swearing
among others, and expressed his entire disapprobation of duelling, which
he declared was no mark of courage.

The queen's health was not good at this time, and she became so pale
that in spite of her religious scruples her husband advised her to
rouge, as other court ladies did, and she complied. The first time
Father Seraphin, a monk, saw her so disfigured he expressed his
surprise, and she explained that she had resorted to paint to conceal
her palor, whereupon the monk replied, bluntly: "Madame, I would rather
see your majesty yellow or even green than rouged."

The twenty-third of April, St. George's day, was appointed for the
coronation of the king and queen. The crown jewels had all been stolen
by the Roundheads during the civil wars, so everything had to be
supplied for the new queen, and the crown that was made specially for
her was valued at one hundred and eleven thousand nine hundred pounds.

On the Thursday previous to the coronation, the king washed the feet
of fifty-two poor men, that number corresponding with his age. On the
appointed day the queen, who had slept at St. James's Palace, performed
her devotions as usual, and was then attired by her women in a royal
robe of purple velvet, bordered with ermine, and looped with cords and
tassels of pearls. Her tight-fitting frock underneath was of rich white
and silver brocade, ornamented with pearls and precious stones. On her
head was a cap of purple velvet, turned up with ermine and edged with
a band of gold, set with large diamonds. As soon as her toilet was
completed, the queen was carried in her chair {277}to Westminster, where
she rested in a private room until the king and all those who were to
take part in the ceremony had assembled.

When everything was ready, her majesty entered Westminster Hall,
attended by her lord chamberlain, her other officers and ladies; the
king entered at the same time by another door with his attendants, and
the royal pair took their seats under separate canopies at the upper end
of the hall.

After the king's regalia had been delivered to him with the usual
formalities, each article was placed on a table covered with rich
tapestry. Then the queen received the crown, sceptre, and ivory rod with
the dove, which were likewise deposited on the table, and subsequently
distributed by the lord great chamberlain to the noblemen appointed to
carry them. These noblemen walked first in the procession, then followed
the queen, between the Bishops of London and Winchester, under a rich
canopy, supported by sixteen barons. Four noble ladies carried her
majesty's train, and eight bed-chamber women followed. The king's
procession came next, and all proceeded in solemn state through a
passage made by a double line of horse and foot guards to the abbey. The
path was thickly strewn with fresh flowers by six young ladies, dressed
in pointed bodices, with full brocaded skirts, looped back over rich
petticoats. They wore hoods, gloves, and deep ruffles falling from the
elbow. Trumpets were blown, drums beat a march, and the choir sang the
well-known anthem, "O Lord, grant the king a long life!" etc., all the
way to the church.

It required several hours for all the ceremonies of the coronation to
be performed, and the devotion of the queen in following the prayers
and making the responses was observed by all present. King James had
bestowed a great {278}deal of pains on his wife's regalia, but none on
his own, so the crown that had been made for Charles II. was used for
him, though it did not fit at all. The heads of the two brothers were
as different as their characters, and it was regarded as an ominous sign
that the crown could not be made to stay on James's head.

The queen performed a noble deed of charity on that day that brought
the blessings of thousands upon her head. She released all prisoners who
were in jail for small debts, and herself paid every sum not exceeding
five pounds. No wonder that the air rang with cries of "Long live Queen
Mary!"

When the ceremonies at the abbey were concluded, the procession returned
to Westminster Hall, and their majesties rested in private rooms until
all the company had taken their places at seven long tables which
were laid for the banquet. Then the king, preceded by his great state
officers, entered with the crown on his head, and the sceptre and orb in
either hand, and seated himself in his chair of state at the head of the
royal table. The queen did the same, her place being at the king's left
hand. Most of the ancient ceremonies of coronation banquets were
revived that day, and some of them are so curious that they will bear
recounting. Certain lords went to the kitchen to receive the dishes and
present them to their majesties, which was done in this way: The master
of the horse called for a dish of meat, wiped the cover and the dish
carefully, tasted the contents, and then ordered it to be conveyed to
the royal table, he preceding the first course on horseback the full
length of the hall, followed by a train of the principal officers of the
household. Thirty-two dishes were brought up by the Knights of the Bath,
and a number of others by private gentlemen. When the dinner was
placed on the table, the lord chamberlain, carvers, cupbearers, and
{279}assistants went to the king's cupboard and washed; then the great
basin was brought for the king to wash his hands. Before doing so he
delivered his sceptre to a nobleman appointed to hold it, and the orb
to the Bishop of Bath. The queen washed also, but she used only a wet
napkin presented by the Earl of Devonshire on his knees. Grace was
said, and their majesties sat down to the dinner, which consisted of a
thousand dishes; among them were many Scotch dainties which reminded the
king and queen of the hospitalities they had received in the North.

Before the second course Sir Charles Dymoke rode into the hall on
a splendid white horse, preceded by trumpeters, and attended by two
gentlemen, one bearing his lance, the other his target. He was dressed
in white armor, and wore a red, white, and blue plume in his helmet.
He was brought up to the royal table, where the herald proclaimed his
challenge, and the champion threw down the gauntlet. This was repeated
three times, when the king drank from a gold cup which he presented to
his champion, who then rode out of the hall. Several lords presented
wine to the king on their knees, each one receiving the silver or gold
cup his majesty drank out of for a present.

When the dinner was ended grace was said, the washing of hands was
repeated with the same ceremony as before, and their majesties withdrew.
In the retiring-room they delivered their regalia to the Dean of
Westminster, whose duty it was to keep such valuables under lock and
key.

One of King James's first acts after he ascended the throne was to
release several thousand Roman Catholics and members of other churches
who had been imprisoned for refusing to worship according to the
prescribed laws of England. He also put a stop to the practice that had
been permitted for many years of people informing against one another
about their religious beliefs. As this was often {280}resorted to merely
to gratify some personal spite, and had been the means of bringing many
an innocent person to the stake, King James did well to abolish it; but
he was fighting the prejudices of the people, and could more easily have
taken an impregnable fortress, as he soon found to his cost. Many of his
subjects were offended at the display James made of his own religion,
particularly when he opened a Catholic chapel at Whitehall, and insisted
on going there in state with his wife, attended by the high officers of
their household, to receive the sacrament. His lord treasurer, the Earl
of Rochester, pretended to be ill as an excuse for absenting himself.
The Dukes of Norfolk and Somerset openly refused to attend. It was the
duty of Lord Godolphin, the queen's chamberlain, to lead her majesty by
the hand to her place in the chapel, and to the altar when she chose
to receive the sacrament. Although a Protestant, the chamberlain was so
charmed with her majesty's beauty and graceful manners that he would not
forego his privilege.

King James summoned parliament in June because the Duke of Argyle raised
a rebellion in Scotland, while Monmouth did the same in England, and
funds were required to suppress both. Monmouth had always been one of
James's bitterest and most dangerous enemies, because he thought he had
a claim to the throne; he therefore issued a proclamation, denouncing
the king "as a usurper, a murderer, a traitor, and a tyrant." He accused
James of burning the city of London, of murdering Godfrey,--both events
are treated of in the last reign,--of cutting the throat of Essex, and
of poisoning his brother, Charles II. He raised an army of ten thousand
men, and received so much encouragement at Taunton that he proclaimed
himself king, and set a price on the head of "the usurper, James, Duke
of York."

{281}

[Illustration: 0287]

{283}Such prompt and active measures were taken by the royal party that
both Argyle and Monmouth were defeated and captured. The latter implored
the king for mercy, and succeeded in obtaining a private interview.
James had forgiven this bold man for many personal offences when he was
Duke of York, but now his position was altered. He was King of England,
and could not find it in his conscience to pardon an offender who had
plunged his realm into civil war, and sacrificed the lives of three
thousand of his subjects. Story, the orator, was taken prisoner for
assisting Monmouth with his exciting speeches, that went far towards
raising the popular indignation against the sovereign.

When summoned to appear before the council he looked so haggard,
neglected, and dirty that King James exclaimed, "Is that a man, or
what is it?" On being informed that it was the rebel Story, his majesty
replied: "Oh, Story; I remember him--a rare fellow, indeed." Then
turning towards him, the king asked: "Pray, Story, you were in
Monmouth's army in the west, were you not?"

"Yes, an't please your majesty."

"Pray, you were a commissary there, were you not?" asked the king.

"Yes, an't please your majesty."

"And you made a speech before great crowds of people, did you not?" was
the next question,

"Yes, an't please your majesty," answered Story.

"Pray, if you have not forgot what you said, let us have a taste of your
fine speech, some specimen of the flowers of your rhetoric."

"I told them, an't please your majesty, that it was you who fired the
city of London," boldly answered Story.

"A rare rogue, upon my word," exclaimed James; "and, pray, what else did
you tell them?"

{284}"I told them, an't please your majesty, that you poisoned your
brother."

"Impudence in the utmost height of it!" said the king. "Pray, let us
have something further, if your memory serves you."

"I further told them," continued Story, "that your majesty appeared to
be fully determined to make the nation both <DW7>s and slaves."

The king had heard enough, and no doubt wondered at the audacity of a
man who dared to accuse him to his face of crimes that his very soul
would have revolted at. But with remarkable clemency his majesty added:
"To all this I doubt not but a thousand other villanous things were
added. But what would you say, Story, if after all this I were to grant
your life?"

He answered, "That he would pray for his majesty as long as he lived."

Thereupon he was freely pardoned, but Monmouth and Argyle were executed.

This victory of King James's would have increased his popularity and
made him extremely powerful, had it not been for the cruel deeds that
resulted from it. But Colonel Kirke and Chief-Justice Jeffreys were two
barbarians, who caused the execution of thousands, whether innocent or
guilty; going from one town to another whence Monmouth had gathered his
forces, and committing most unheard-of cruelties.

Such deeds, added to the mistake James made in attempting to have
everything his own way, regardless of the will of parliament, led to
his ruin and downfall. Popular indignation was aroused against all Roman
Catholics, King James included, when Louis XIV. revoked the edict of
Nantes. This was a law that had been made by Henry IV., granting the
free exercise of religion to all Protestants, and {285}when it was
withdrawn, of course, persecutions followed. The result was that nearly
fifty thousand Protestants sought refuge in England, and King James
treated them with a great deal of consideration.

[[A.D. 1687.]] The queen spent part of the spring of 1687 at Richmond
Palace, while James visited his camp at Hounslow; but her health was
so poor that she was ordered by her physicians to take a course of
treatment at Bath, and while there news of her mother's death reached
her. This was a sad bereavement, and one from which Mary Beatrice did
not soon recover. It opened a correspondence between her and the Prince
of Orange, who, while expressing affectionate sympathy, was secretly
plotting for the overthrow of his royal father-in-law. The king was very
much under the influence of Sunderland, and of the Jesuit, Father Petre,
both bad advisers; but he was also on terms of intimacy with William
Penn, the founder of the State of Pennsylvania. This high-minded Quaker
entered the king's presence one day, shortly after he ascended the
throne, with his hat on his head. James immediately removed his,
whereupon Penn said: "Friend James, why dost thou uncover thy head?" The
king replied with a smile: "Because it is the fashion here for only one
man to wear his hat.".

Penn was sent to Holland to persuade William, Prince of Orange,
to concur with the king in trying to do away with those laws that
interfered with religious privileges in England, but met with no
success, either with him or his wife, Mary.

[[A.D. 1688.]] Queen Mary Beatrice had a little son born at St. James's
Palace in 1688, and there was great rejoicing among the king's friends
when the infant prince appeared, which was echoed in Edinburgh.

The royal father felt so happy at the birth of his son that, {286}in an
evil hour, he granted forgiveness to Nathaniel Hook, who had been the
Duke of Monmouth's chaplain. This man became one of the tools of William
of Orange, and acted as a spy on the actions of the sovereign who had
shown him such mercy.

A grand display of fireworks took place in honor of the prince's birth
when he was a few weeks old, and the royal couple were present at the
palace window to witness it. Mary Beatrice was gratified by a letter
of congratulation sent by the pope on the birth of her son, because his
holiness had never been friendly since she married without his consent,
nor was he now, as we shall see.

The persons who were anything but pleased at the little fellow's
appearance in the world were William of Orange and his wife, because
both felt that he was in their way as heir to the crown.

One of William's agents was discovered at Rome in secret correspondence
with the pope's secretary, Count Cassoni. He was disguised as a peddler
of artificial fruit, which, on being opened, were found to contain slips
of paper, written in cypher, that disclosed a plan for the destruction
of the king and the little prince. William of Orange was at the bottom
of the conspiracy, and intended to carry out his purpose in this way:
The pope was to supply funds to be used by the Prince of Orange for
the invasion of England, which coming from such a source would not be
suspected. All this was disclosed by the slips of paper contained in the
fruit, and reached the ears of King James himself.

The royal infant was so very ill when he was about two months old that
it was thought each moment would be his last; however, he was provided
with a good healthy nurse and got well, much to the delight of his
parents, and the disgust of those whose interest it was to wish him out
of the {287}way. Then the king and queen with their household removed to
Whitehall, and soon after her majesty's birthday was observed with the
usual ceremonies and rejoicings.

Mary Beatrice kept up a regular correspondence with the Prince of
Orange, with whom she had always been on the most loving terms, and did
not know what to make of the news that came to her about this time. It
was that the Dutch fleet was hovering off the coast of England, ready
at a moment's notice to make an attack. The queen could not believe
such horrible tidings, and wrote her daughter: "That it was reported
the Prince of Orange was coming over with an army, and that her highness
would accompany him; but she never would believe her capable of turning
against a good father, who, she believed, had always loved her the best
of all his children." It was, nevertheless, true, and the storm that
was to drive King James from the throne was gathering darkly and surely.
James had committed some grave mistakes as a ruler, as a politician, as
a theologian, and gladly would he have made amends, but it was too late.
The King of France offered assistance, but with all his faults James
loved his country too well to allow a foreign army to come to his
rescue. He preferred other measures, whereby he hoped and fondly
expected to avert the horrors of civil war. But his enemies were in his
very household, and treachery surrounded him on all sides. The men who
breakfasted with him in the morning, and pretended to be most loyal,
deserted him before night. When he ought to have gone in person to repel
the attacks of the Dutch fleet, he was persuaded by traitors to stay and
defend the metropolis. When at last he did go he was so ill, so broken
down, both in mind and body as to be utterly unfit for exertion of any
kind. His confidential councillors went over to the enemy, and as the
Prince of Orange advanced with his forces, James retreated towards
London, {288}paralyzed by the treachery that was daily brought to light.
But the most heartrending blow of all awaited him on his return to
the metropolis, for the first news he heard was that Princess Anne had
deserted him. "God help me!" he exclaimed, bursting into tears, "My own
children have forsaken me in my distress." When he entered the palace
he added in the bitterness of his grief, "Oh, if mine enemies only had
cursed me, I could have borne it!"

Now, the unfortunate king's anxiety was for the faithful wife who had
awaited his return in fear and trembling, and the innocent baby whose
life the fond father feared was in danger. The valiant James Stuart of
former years no longer existed; for he would not have submitted to the
advance of a foe without offering desperate resistance, nor would he
have abandoned his country at a moment when she needed his services.

The heart-broken King James summoned his council, asked their advice,
and appealed to their loyalty. They told him "he had no one to blame but
himself," but offered no comfort or assistance. Indignation at the base
treatment of those who ought to have stood by him in his adversity and
grief, at the thought of the strait to which his own bad management had
brought himself and his dear ones, had turned poor King James's mind;
he could no longer protect his realm, for he was not in a condition
to decide clearly on any subject. His entire attention was now turned
towards the only two beings who were left him in the world,--his wife
and baby; and those he was determined to save though he should forfeit
his own life.

It so happened that two Frenchmen, named Count de Lauzun and his friend
St. Victor, had become so interested in King James and the state
of affairs in England that they had offered their services to the
distressed sovereign. To these two gentlemen James resolved to intrust
the care of {289}his wife and child, and they eagerly consented to
undertake the dangerous task of conveying them to France. They met the
king and decided upon a plan so secretly that it was not suspected by
any one. St. Victor went to Gravesend and hired two yachts,--one in the
name of an Italian lady about to return to her own country, the other in
that of Count Lauzun.

December 9 was the day appointed for the queen to leave London. It was
Sunday, but some of the advanced troops of the prince's army, who had
dispersed in different parts of the city, began the day by burning
Catholic houses and chapels, and creating a tumult that terrified the
peaceful citizens, while tidings of other dreadful occurrences came from
all parts of the kingdom. When night approached the queen implored her
husband to allow her to remain and share his peril, but he assured
her that he would follow her within twenty-four hours, and that it was
necessary for the safety of their child that she should precede him. At
ten o'clock their majesties went to bed, and when all was dark and quiet
in the palace they got up and began preparations for departure. Shortly
after midnight St. Victor ascended a secret staircase to the king's
apartment. He was dressed like a common sailor, though he was well-armed
underneath his coarse attire, and brought a disguise for the queen. Lady
Strickland was in waiting that night, and assisted her majesty until two
o'clock, when all who were to share the journey met in the apartment
of Madame Labadie, where the prince had been carried secretly some time
before.

Turning to the count, King James said: "I confide my queen and son to
your care; all must be hazarded to convey them with the utmost speed
to France." Reserving a silence that was more eloquent than words, the
queen gave her husband a parting look, then crossed the grand hall,
{290}and stole softly down the back-stairs with St. Victor, who had
possessed himself of the keys. The two nurses followed close behind
with the sleeping infant. A coach that St. Victor had borrowed from an
Italian friend, without telling him to what use it was to be employed,
stood at the gate. The queen, Count de Lauzun, and the two nurses with
the baby entered, while St. Victor took his seat beside the coachman,
and Mary Beatrice left Whitehall never to return. The coach had to pass
six sentinels, who called out, "Who goes there?" Each time St. Victor
replied boldly, "A friend," and, showing the keys, was permitted to pass
without opposition. At Westminster the fugitives entered a boat in which
St. Victor had crossed on several previous nights with his gun and a
basket of cold provisions to make believe that he was a sportsman and
thus avoid suspicion. But this particular night was so stormy, and
the rain poured in such torrents, that the boatman must have known no
unimportant errand would tempt a woman with an infant six months old to
make so dangerous a trip, for the river had swollen, and the wind was
blowing violently. When the travellers reached the opposite bank, which
was at last accomplished after a great deal of difficulty, St. Victor
looked anxiously around for the carriage that ought to have stood in
waiting as he had arranged; but Monsieur Dusions, one of her majesty's
pages, appeared promptly at a call, and said that it was still at the
inn. St. Victor ran to fetch it, leaving De Lauzun to protect the queen,
who stood for shelter under the walls of the old church at Lambeth, with
her infant clasped close to her breast, dreading lest he should wake
and betray her presence by his cries. But the little prince behaved well
throughout the journey, happily unconscious of the danger to which he
was exposed. Meanwhile St. Victor, at the inn-yard had excited some
curiosity by his agitated manner, and his foreign {291}accent, which
prompted a man on watch to start out with his lantern to reconnoitre.
Seeing that he directed his steps straight to where the queen was
waiting, St. Victor hastened with all speed to the other side of the
way, and then put himself in the man's path as though by accident,
awkwardly pretended to be trying to clear the road, when the two came
in contact and went rolling over in the mud together. The Frenchman was
profuse in his apologies, which mollified the other man, who returned to
the inn to relight his lantern and wash off the mud. This gave the queen
and her party time to proceed, and before they had cleared three miles
they were met by one of her majesty's equerries, who, by the king's
thoughtfulness, had been sent with a fresh horse and a pair of boots for
St. Victor, of which he was sorely in need by that time. When the queen
reached Gravesend a little boat conveyed her to the yacht, that
was filled with friends who had preceded her from London, and were
determined to share her exile. Among them were Lord and Lady Powis,
Anna Montecuculi, who had gone to England with Mary Beatrice when she
married; Father Giverlai, the queen's confessor; William Walgrave, her
physician; Marquis Montecuculi, Lord and Lady O'Brien Clare, Mesdames
Labadie and Strickland, and two pages. These had gone down the Thames,
consequently had made the passage in less time than the royal party had
required.

The captain of the yacht had not the-slightest suspicion of the rank
of the Italian washerwoman, so anxiously awaited, who embarked with a
bundle of clothes under her arm, in which her little prince was safely
ensconced. The queen was always ill at sea, but heretofore she had been
provided with all the comforts her husband could devise, as well as the
pleasure of his presence. It was very different now, when not daring to
encounter the Dutch men-of-war, she was forced to cross the channel in
an ordinary {292}packet, deprived of common necessaries; for none of
the functionaries thought it necessary to pay attention to a poor
washerwoman.

As soon as she boarded the vessel the queen went below to avoid
observation, while Madame Labadie, who knew Grey, the captain, engaged
him in conversation until the sails were hoisted and the yacht well
under way. King James had ordered De Lauzun, in case the captain
discovered the fugitives or betrayed any intention to put his wife and
son into the hands of the Dutch, to shoot him dead. The count stationed
himself in a position to keep strict watch over every motion of the
captain's, determined to act promptly in case of need; but that officer
steered his course safely through a fleet of fifty Dutch ships, and
landed his passengers at Calais, as ignorant of the queen's presence as
when he left the English coast.

Sixteen years before Mary of Modena had embarked on a royal yacht
attended by her mother and a train of noblemen desirous of doing her
honor; now she landed at the same port, a forlorn fugitive, disguised
as a peasant, to seek refuge from the storm that had driven her from
a throne. It would be hard to decide at which period' she was more an
object of sympathy, if we recall the reluctance with which she left her
convent home to unite her destinies with those of a man whom she had
never seen, and behold her now, deprived of her regal state, it is true,
but possessing a husband who has won her heart, and a dear little baby,
who is her idol and his.

The governor of Calais wished to show Mary Beatrice the honors due a
queen of Great Britain, but she declined, and took up her residence at a
private house to await the arrival of her husband, whom she expected to
follow her in a few hours. But the governor sent everything to her
house that the queen needed for comfort, and fired a royal salute at
her departure. {293}Soon after landing at Calais, Mary Beatrice wrote
a pathetic letter to Louis XIV., asking his protection for herself and
son. He replied by sending his first equerry with the royal carriages
to attend the queen and her suite to Paris, and ordered that every honor
due her rank should be shown the royal lady _en route_.

The king did not join his wife as he had promised, and she could
receive no reliable intelligence as to his fate. Her heart was torn
with conflicting rumors, and she spent her days in tears at a convent at
Boulogne, to which place she had removed.

[[A.D. 1689.]] It was not until the nineteenth of January that the queen
knew the sad truth. Then she heard from the vice-admiral of England, who
had arrived at Calais, that the king had set out on his journey, when
he was arrested by order of the Prince of Orange and taken back under
strict guard. Overcome with despair, the queen decided to send her son
on to Paris, and return to London to share her husband's peril. But her
faithful attendants dissuaded her from a course that could only have
increased the king's trouble without rendering him the least service,
and urged her to be guided by the directions he had given her at
parting. That very day King Louis's equerry arrived with letters and
messages from his majesty and a noble escort to convey the queen, with
her attendants, to the Castle of St. Germain, which had been put in
readiness for their reception. So anxious were the faithful followers
of Mary Beatrice to remove her from the coast, where she might at any
moment be tempted by some favorable opportunity to return to England,
that they entreated her to accept the invitation of the King of France
at once.

She yielded, and left Boulogne the next day. On arriving at Montrieul a
report reached the royal party that King James was still at Whitehall.
{294}Now we must go back and see what really happened to James after
his wife's departure. He wandered about in a state of nervous agitation
until St. Victor returned from Gravesend with the announcement that the
queen had embarked safely, and he had seen the yacht well on her course.
Then his majesty brightened up, although there was not an hour but news
reached him of the advance of his enemy's troops. Having summoned his
council to meet at ten the next morning, the king went to bed as usual,
without any intention of being present.

At midnight he arose, disguised himself in a black wig, and shabby,
plain clothes, and attended by Sir Edward Hales, descended by a private
staircase to the garden and proceeded as the queen had done two nights
before. He crossed the Thames in a little row-boat to Vauxhall, and when
in the middle of the river threw in the great seal that he had taken
from Whitehall. This is an unaccountable proceeding, because he
evidently meant to make use of the seal after he got to France, and
he must have changed his mind very suddenly. On arriving at Fever-sham
after travelling all night, Sir Edward Hales sent his servant to the
post-office, and as his residence was in that neighborhood, his livery
was immediately known. A gang of ruffians who had formed themselves
into an association to prevent the flight of Roman Catholics to France,
dogged the man's footsteps to the river side, where they discovered that
Sir Edward had taken refuge on a custom-house boat. At eleven o'clock
that night fifty of the gang, armed with swords and pistols, boarded
the boat, rushed into the cabin? seized the king and his companion.
Perceiving that his majesty was not recognized, Sir Edward took Ames,
the leader of the ruffians aside, put fifty guineas in his hand and
promised a hundred more if he would allow them to escape. The man took
the money and said he would go {295}ashore to make arrangements for
them, but advised them to hand over all their valuables to his keeping,
because he could not answer for the conduct of his men while he was
gone. The king gave him three hundred guineas and his watch, but
contrived to conceal his coronation ring and three diamond pins that
belonged to the queen. As soon as the tide rose in the morning the gang,
who had mistaken James for Father Petre, rowed the boat to shore, and
putting their two prisoners in a carriage, drove them to an inn amidst
the shouts and yells of a mob that had assembled there. Suddenly a
seaman in the crowd who had served under James recognized him, and
bursting out into tears, knelt and begged to kiss his hand. The king was
touched at this proof of devotion and wept, while the ruffians who had
robbed and insulted him fell on their knees and sued for pardon. Then
returning his majesty's sword and jewels, the seamen who were present
declared "that not a hair of his head should be touched." Even then, had
the king been in a proper state of mind, something might have been done
for his cause, surrounded as he was at that instant by a band of loyal
subjects; but he was mentally exhausted, and he began to talk in a wild,
incoherent manner, until an alarming fit of nose-bleed left him in a
helpless condition. For two whole days nobody in London knew of King
James's whereabouts, until a Kentish peasant presented himself at the
council chamber with a letter from his, majesty, stating his condition
and demanding assistance. Some of the lords were for treating the
letter with silent contempt, but they were overruled, and an escort was
despatched to bring his majesty back to Whitehall. He was received with
every demonstration of loyalty, and might have raised a powerful army to
repel his foes, but his day had gone by; he could only weep and bemoan
his sad fate, constantly repeating: "God help me, whom can I trust? My
own children have forsaken me!" {296}The king had been in London less
than a week when he was rudely awakened at two o'clock one cold, stormy
morning by three lords, who had openly avowed themselves his enemies.
They came with an order from the Prince of Orange for him to leave
Whitehall before ten o'clock and proceed to Rochester. He made the
journey attended by a Dutch guard, who had orders from their prince to
give their prisoner a chance to escape.

Accordingly the back door of the house at Rochester was purposely left
unguarded, and between twelve and one on the morning of December 23, the
king attended by two faithful companions, made his way to the river and
was rowed down to Sheerness, where, boarding a fishing-boat, he was
landed on Christmas day at a village near Boulogne.

The queen was at Beauvais when she heard of her husband's arrival on
French soil, and forgetting all her misfortunes in this welcome news she
raised her eyes to Heaven and exclaimed: "Then I am happy," and prayed
aloud in the fulness of her heart.

It was on the twenty-eighth of December that Mary Beatrice approached
St. Germain. King Louis XIV. had advanced with his son and brother to a
village at the foot of the hill on which stood the castle to await his
royal guests. His cavalcade consisted of a hundred coaches, and all the
noble ladies and gentlemen who attended him were dressed in magnificent
attire. When the queen drew near with her party, Louis left his coach
and went forward to greet her. His officers stopped the first carriage,
supposing it to contain her majesty, but the occupants proved to be the
little prince with his governess and his nurses. All alighted out of
respect to the king, who took the baby in his arms, hugged and kissed
him tenderly, and promised to cherish and protect the unconscious child.

{297}

[Illustration: 0303]

{299}Meanwhile Mary Beatrice had left her carriage and walked towards
his majesty, who saluted her affectionately. After a great many
complimentary speeches on both sides, the king presented the dauphin,
as his son was styled, and monsieur his brother, then the four royal
personages got into his majesty's coach and were driven to the Palace
of St. Germain, which was to be the future home of Mary Beatrice. They
alighted at the inner court, where, after placing everything at
the queen's command, Louis led her to the apartments that had been
newly-fitted up for the Prince of Wales. Such an affectionate welcome
brought tears to the eyes of Mary Beatrice, who began to feel that she
now needed nothing but the arrival of her beloved husband to fill her
heart with peace.

St. Germain Palace had been gorgeously fitted up for Queen Mary
Beatrice, and contained every article of luxury that she could possibly
desire. On her toilet table stood a casket of exquisite workmanship, of
which Tourolle, the king's upholsterer presented her the key with rather
a significent air. This she observed; but her mind was so occupied that
she did not remember to open the casket until the next day, when she
beheld six thousand bright, shining louis d'ors which the generous King
Louis had placed there for her use.

In the morning Louis and the dauphin sent to make inquiries about
their guests, and at six in the evening they paid her majesty a visit,
attended by Monsieur and the Duc de Chartres. She was in bed, feeling
ill from the anxiety and fatigue she had undergone, but that did not
prevent her receiving the royal guests. Queens were not allowed any
privacy in those days, sick or well, and her majesty's chamber was soon
crowded with the courtiers who had followed their sovereign, while he
and the dauphin sat on the bed and chatted quite merrily. In about half
an hour King {300}James's arrival was announced, and Louis went out to
meet him. James bowed low as his kinsman advanced, but Louis took him
in his arms and embraced him warmly three our four times. Then the two
kings conversed in a low tone for fifteen minutes, after which monsieur
and the dauphin were presented to James, who was then conducted to his
wife's room. As they entered, Louis said, playfully: "Madame, I bring a
gentleman of your acquaintance, whom you will be very glad to see." The
queen uttered a cry of joy, and the royal couple surprised the French
courtiers by hugging and kissing each other right before them all. James
was then led to the royal nursery, where it gladdened his heart to see
the comforts that surrounded his darling boy. Louis was scrupulously
mindful of every act of courtesy towards his unfortunate kinsman, and
sent him a present of ten thousand pounds in such a delicate manner as
not to wound his pride.

St. Germain was familiar to King James, for it was there that he lived
with his mother and the royal family of France during the troublous
times that preceded his father's death. After a lapse of twenty-eight
years he returned, again a fugitive, the last survivor of those who had
shared his first adversity. Mother, brothers, sisters, all were dead,
his two daughters had deserted him; the son of his best beloved sister,
who had become his son-in-law, had driven him from his throne, and his
wife and little son were deprived of their rights because of his fall.
An appalling list of calamities; yet James bore them with a calmness
that astonished his French friends. Both he and his wife felt their
dependence, and desired to live as much in private as possible; but it
was not permitted. The court of St. Germain was formed on the model
of King Louis's, but the French officers were soon replaced by those
members of the queen's household who followed her, though their
{301}property was confiscated and they forfeited the rights of
citizenship by so doing. Mary Beatrice's old coachman, who had formerly
served Oliver Cromwell, followed his royal mistress to St. Germain, and
continued to drive her state coach until he died of old age.

[[A.D. 1689.]] At first the etiquette of the French court was very
irksome to Mary Beatrice, for it was much more formidable than in
England, and she would have made many mistakes had she not had the good
sense to refer all matters of precedency to Louis XIV. himself, and in
every case to abide by his decision. The wife of the dauphin refused to
call because the size and position of the chair she was to occupy in the
presence of the Queen of England was not according to her fancy, so Mary
Beatrice waived ceremony and made the first call, and in course of time
it was arranged who was to sit, who was to stand, which noble lady or
gentleman was to be placed to the right or the left of one of the royal
personages, who was to go first, the size, shape, and height of the
chair, besides many other matters that appear trivial to us; then all
went smoothly. Mary Beatrice became the fashion; Louis XIV., the _Grande
Monarque_, had held her up as a model for his daughter-inlaw, and said:
"See what a queen should be," and that was enough to bring the whole
court to her feet. Every one admired her ready wit, her grace, her
beauty, but above all, her charming manners and her devotion to her
husband. One day when King Louis was caressing her baby she said: "I had
envied the happiness of my son in being unconscious of his misfortunes,
but now I regret the unconsciousness which prevents him from being
sensible of your majesty's goodness to him."

The exiled king and queen were invited to St. Cyr to witness a new
tragedy by Racine, and Mary Beatrice sat between her husband and Louis
XIV. during the performance. {302}Next day Louis entertained them at
his palace at the Trianon, where the two kings had a long private
conference, while the queen played cards with some ladies and gentlemen.

Meanwhile affairs in England were going badly for the royal cause, and
on the sixth of February a very small majority in parliament decided
that the Prince and Princess of Orange should be proclaimed king and
queen.

James was still undisputed King of Ireland, and his subjects there urged
him to visit their country; so, with a force consisting of a hundred
noble French gentlemen, Lauzun being of the number, besides twenty-five
hundred English and Scotch emigrants, he decided to go. King Louis
supplied him with vessels and money, and offered troops, but James
replied: "I will recover my own dominions with my own subjects or perish
in the attempt." After his departure the queen left St. Germain and went
with her little son to the convent of Poissy, intending to pass her time
in prayers for the safety of her lord. From Poissy she went for awhile
to the convent of Chaillot, several of the nuns of that community being
among her best friends.

[[A.D. 1690.]] King James was received with joy in Ireland, where his
viceroy, Tyrconnel, met him with an army of forty thousand men, but they
were composed of half-clad peasants, who were willing to fight, but had
neither arms nor military discipline. With such forces little could be
expected, and though the king met with a few trifling victories at first
he really gained nothing. Mary Beatrice pawned or sold her jewels to
keep him supplied with more money than she could manage to borrow from
the French government, but all to no avail; one defeat came close upon
the heels of another, until the battle of the Boyne convinced James that
his cause was hopeless.

Fortunately the queen had not heard of this dreadful

{303}

[Illustration: 0309]

{305}defeat until news reached her that her husband was safe in France,
and all misfortunes sank into insignificance compared with the anxiety
she had suffered on his account. In October the royal pair were invited
to Fontainebleau, one of King Louis's most splendid palaces, to spend
a few days, during which they were entertained with most generous
magnificence. King Louis always sat at the queen's left hand, and
showed her marked attention on every occasion. When it rained the guests
remained indoors, and played a game of cards called loo in England,
_paume_ in France, that had been introduced by the Dutch. They were
treated to a stag roast in the park by moonlight, and enjoyed seeing
the animal that had been killed by the two kings in the morning roasted
whole in the evening.

[[A.D. 1691.]] During all this time Mary Beatrice was in correspondence
with a great many people in England, who were most anxious for King
James's restoration, and never consented to an allegiance to William
and Mary. Dryden was one of these; he was Poet Laureate during James's
reign, and one of the queen's numerous admirers.

[[A.D. 1692.]] Assisted by King Louis XIV., James made another effort to
regain his crown, but was defeated. The little prince was at that time a
handsome bright boy, four years of age, and before the king departed on
the expedition which terminated so disastrously he made his son a Knight
of the Garter.

King James became very despondent when his bad luck continued, and
wrote Louis XIV.: "My evil star has had an influence on the arms of
your majesty, always victorious but when fighting for me. I entreat you,
therefore, to interest yourself no more for a prince so unfortunate, but
permit me to withdraw with my family to some corner of the world where
I may cease to be an interruption to your majesty's wonted course of
prosperity and glory."

{306}In the summer Queen Mary Beatrice had a daughter, and the king was
so pleased when he beheld the child that he called it "his comforter,"
and said: "He had now one daughter who had never sinned against him."
The princess was baptized with great pomp at St. Germain, and King Louis
XIV., who acted as sponsor, gave her the name of Louisa Mary.

Mary Beatrice was now the mother of two fine healthy children, and both
she and the king were happier than they had been in many a day.

Every year Mrs. Penn, the wife of the founder of Pennsylvania, paid
a visit to the queen at St. Germain, and always brought a great many
presents from friends in England to the royal exiles.

[[A.D. 1695.]] At the beginning of the next year very important news was
brought to St. Germain. It was of the death of Mary II., then Queen of
England. It was naturally believed that after such an event the Princess
Anne would assert her claim to the throne; but she was too shrewd to
risk anything by an open rupture with King William, whose health was so
bad that she decided to await the natural course of events. Meanwhile,
she played a twofold game by her friendliness towards the king, while
she kept up a secret correspondence with her father.

[[A.D. 1696.]] The partisans of James urged him to make an attack on
England after the death of Mary II., assuring him that a force of only
ten thousand men would be sufficient to reinstate him on the throne; but
he appeared strangely indifferent about that time, and could obtain no
assistance from the French court. The next year, however, Louis XIV.
did grant the required assistance; but so many circumstances prevailed
against poor James that he was again unsuccessful, and returned to St.
Germain. With a mistaken zeal for his cause, some of James's adherents
had {307}made an attack on the person of King William, which did no
benefit to the exiled king, and caused the execution of many in England.

King James was so poor that the allowance made him by King Louis was not
large enough to enable him to pay the pensions of those who had lost
all their worldly possessions because of their loyalty to him, so he
was obliged from time to time to sell the queen's jewels. Mary Beatrice
wrote on this subject to her friend, the Abbess of Chaillot: "In respect
to our poor, I shall never consider that I have done my duty until
I have given them all I have." By degrees she parted with all her
valuables for the relief of her unfortunate British followers.

[[A.D. 1697.]] In course of time circumstances compelled King Louis XIV.
to acknowledge William as King of England; but in so doing he stipulated
that Mary Beatrice should receive her dower regularly. Then the queen
arranged that every payment should be made through the French king, to
whom she owed so much; but she need not have troubled herself on that
score, for although William charged the British nation with fifty
thousand pounds annually for Mary Beatrice, he pocketed the entire
amount and appropriated it to his own use. The excuse he gave was that
King James and his wife were permitted to remain at St. Germain, though
he had peremptorily demanded their removal from France.

[[A.D. 1701.]] King James's health had been poor for several months, and
the queen had felt much anxiety on his account, though he did not grow
perceptibly worse. One Sunday he had an epileptic fit, which came on in
church. He was carried out in a state of insensibility, and continued
ill for several weeks, during which the queen remained constantly at
his bedside, attending to his wants and watching every symptom as only
a devoted wife can. {308}Later, the king was removed to the baths of
Bourbon, and Louis XIV. sent Fagon, his chief physician, to attend him,
and paid all the expenses of the journey for the entire party. James
improved so much that in less than three months he returned to St.
Germain, in time for the celebration of the birthday fetes of his
children, both of which occurred in the month of June. The prince was
fourteen at that time, and the princess was ten years of age.

[Illustration: 0314]

But King James was not long to enjoy the society of his family, for the
return of his illness laid him on his deathbed before many months. The
French council held a meeting to decide upon the English succession when
James's death should occur, and the dauphin was one of the majority
who decided in favor of the Prince of Wales. It was Louis himself who
conveyed the satisfactory intelligence to {309}the dying king. As he
entered the bedroom one of the attendants aroused the invalid, who had
been in a drowsy stupor all day, and announced the presence of the King
of France. "Where is he?" asked James, with a painful effort.

"Sir, I am here," replied Louis; "and am come to see how you do."

"I am going to pay that debt which must be paid by all kings as well as
their meanest subjects," returned James, slowly. "I give your majesty
thanks for all your kindness to me and my afflicted family, and do not
doubt its continuance, having always found you good and generous."

Louis then informed the king that he had something of the greatest
importance to communicate, whereupon the attendants began to withdraw;
but Louis exclaimed, "Let no one retire!" Then turning to James again,
he continued: "I am come, sir, to acquaint you that whenever it shall
please God to call your majesty out of this world, I will take your
family under my protection, and will recognize your son, the Prince of
Wales, as heir of your three realms." At these words, all present,
both English and French, threw themselves at the feet of the powerful
sovereign, who mingled his tears with those that were shed around him.

The dying king extended his arms to embrace his royal friend, and said:
"Thank God, I die with perfect resignation, and forgive all the world."

He then begged as a last favor that there might be no pomp at his
funeral ceremonies. "That is the only favor I cannot grant," replied
Louis. James begged that any money King Louis might feel disposed
to spend for that purpose should be employed for the relief of his
followers, whom he commended to that monarch's care.

The queen was so grieved that she was often obliged to {310}hide herself
so that her husband might not witness her tears. His bed was situated in
an alcove, and she would spend hours on the other side of the curtains,
anxiously waiting for any sound from the dying king. While Louis XIV.
was communicating his comforting news, Mary Beatrice sent for her son
and bade him throw himself at the feet of the kind-hearted monarch, and
express his gratitude. Louis raised the boy and embraced him tenderly;
then leading him into an adjoining room, conversed with him a long
while, gave him some excellent advice, and promised to act the part of a
father towards him.

King James had already taken leave of his children, but they were
permitted to see him several times before he died; and he always smiled
lovingly, even though he could not speak to them. The day before he
expired King James bade farewell to the queen, and requested her
to write to his daughter, the Princess Anne, and assure her of his
forgiveness; also to charge her to atone to her brother for the injury
she had done him. Then he gave some advice about the prince; and when
Mary Beatrice was overcome with emotion, he asked tenderly: "Why is
this? Are you not flesh of my flesh, and bone of my bone--are you not
a part of myself? How is it, then, that one part of me should feel so
differently from the other? I in joy and you in despair. My joy is
in the hope I feel that God in his mercy will forgive me my sins and
receive me into his beatitude, and you are afflicted at it. I have long
sighed for this happy moment, and you know it well: cease, then, to
lament for me. I will pray for you,--farewell!"

This was the last interview the queen had with her husband, for he sank
into a state of unconsciousness, and died the next afternoon at three
o'clock. It was Father Ruga, the queen's confessor, who informed her
when all was over. Although the blow was expected, it was hard to bear;
for {311}Mary Beatrice had hoped to the last that her husband might
still be spared to her. Her resignation to the will of God was perfect;
but her sorrow was heartfelt and bitter.

Crowds of French and English of all degrees passed in and out to take
a last look at the dead king, who had requested that his chamber door
might be left open for that purpose. Then all the courtiers went to the
prince and saluted him as king, and at the same time he was proclaimed
at the gates of St. Germain by the title of James III., King of England,
Scotland, Ireland, and France.

Court etiquette required that the queen also should offer the homage of
a subject to her boy. She said to him: "Sir, I acknowledge you for my
king; but I hope you will not forget that you are my son." She was so
overcome by this ceremony that she retired at once, and was driven to
the convent of Chaillot, where she desired to pass the first days of her
widowhood in complete solitude, refusing to see any one whatsoever.

The chapel had all been hung in black by the nuns as soon as the king's
death was announced, and when the tolling of the bell warned them of
Mary Beatrice's approach, they went in procession to receive her at the
convent gate. She descended from her coach in silence, followed by
four noble ladies who had accompanied her. The nuns gathered around her
without speaking, the abbess kissed the hem of her robe, some of the
sisters embraced her knees, and others respectfully pressed their lips
to her hand, but no one ventured to offer a word of comfort.

The queen passed straight into the chapel; she was bowed down with
grief, though she did not shed a tear. That time was passed, and she
seemed stupefied. One of the nuns approached and asked in the words of
the psalmist, "My soul, will you not be subject to God?" {312}"His
will be done," replied the queen, in a tremulous voice. Prostrating
herself before the altar, she remained long in prayer. At last the
nuns begged her to eat, for she had partaken of no food since the night
before, and they feared she would faint. She was led to her bedroom,
but insisted on hearing more prayers, and complained that she could not
weep, saying "that even that solace was denied her."

Her attendants were sent to bed, but two of the nuns passed the night
with the queen, who moaned and sighed and prayed by turns with scarcely
a moment's repose. The next night the king's heart was conveyed to
Chaillot and placed near that of his mother; but by King Louis's order
it was received so quietly that Mary Beatrice was not excited by it.
However, a few hours later she assured the abbess that she felt it was
near her, and spoke a great deal about her dead husband. Among other
things, she said: "That he had felt his humiliation, and above all the
injustice he had experienced, very keenly; but that the love of God had
changed all his calamities into blessings."

Mary Beatrice would have liked to pass the rest of her days at Chaillot,
but she had other duties to perform and many more years to live.

In his will King James had directed that he should be buried with his
ancestors at Westminster Abbey; therefore the queen ordered that the
funeral service should be performed in France, but that the body should
remain unburied until the restoration of her son, which she fondly hoped
would soon take place.

It was therefore at the chapel of the Benedictine Monks that the corpse
of King James remained covered with the pall for many years, until all
hope for the Stuart family had vanished forever.

The queen remained at Chaillot only four days, for her {313}children
needed her at St. Germain, and she returned to them on the nineteenth of
September.

The next day King Louis called on her, and she received him in a
darkened room hung with black. He tried very hard to console the widowed
queen by kind offers of protection to her and her son, and insisted upon
her receiving the same courtesy from his ministers as though she had
been queen regent really and not only in name.

[[A.D. 1702.]] However King James's will had given her that title,
and her first steps was to publish a manifesto in the name of her son,
setting forth his claim to the crown of Great Britain. It made little
impression in England, but those who were opposed to King William in
Scotland were anxious to bring the young king forward. So Lord Belhaven
was sent to consult the queen as to what was best to do, and told her
that if only her young son would declare himself a Protestant he should
be proclaimed King of Scotland without waiting either for the death of
William or the consent of parliament. Her majesty replied: "That she
would never be the means of persuading her son to barter his hopes of
Heaven for a crown." Then Lord Belhaven was willing to compromise, and
said, "That if the prince would not change his religion, would he not
agree that only a limited number of Romish priest, should enter his
kingdom, and that he would make no attempt to alter the established
religion?" This the queen freely promised in the name of her son, and
then the lord declared that he and his party would do all in their power
to establish King James's heir on the throne.

Mary Beatrice would have resigned herself to fate if she had not felt
convinced that her son's rights were denied him so long as any Stuart
claimed the crown. At the time of the prince's birth, parliament had
decided that he should succeed his father, James II., and a new interest
was {314}awakened in him on account of the sympathy felt in England
for him and his widowed mother. Alarmed that such would be the state of
affairs, William hired a notorious fellow to prove that the Prince of
Wales was not the son of James II. and Mary Beatrice at all, but that
one Mrs. Mary Grey was his real mother, who had been murdered in Paris
shortly after his birth. A copy of the book containing a full account of
this matter was presented to the lords, the ministers of state, and the
lord mayor. Of course this statement was utterly false and absurd, and
raised the indignation of the House of Commons to such a degree that
Fuller, the man who got out the book, underwent the disgrace of the
pillory. But as he had often been employed by William III. as a spy and
had been punished more than once for perjury, he did not sink under the
disgrace as an honest man would have done.

As soon as the news of King James's death reached William III. he was
prepared with a blow to aim at his orphan cousin that he was determined
should not fail if he could help it. It was an accusation of high
treason, in which Mary Beatrice was also included. The bill, as William
presented it to his parliament, did not designate his uncle's widow as
the queen dowager, because he had pocketed her dower, and he desired to
deprive her even of the honors due a royal lady. So she is called "Mary,
late wife of the late King James."

Without describing all the scenes enacted in parliament while this
disgraceful bill was under consideration, it is only necessary for us to
know that it passed the House of Lords; but when it was laid before the
Commons, they pitched it under the table.

The very last act of William III. was to affix the royal seal to the
bill that he had exerted every means to have executed against the young
Prince of Wales. He was on {315}his death-bed when it was presented for
his signature, but controlled his almost paralyzed fingers enough for
the accomplishment of this last act of hatred.

He expired the next day.

Mary Beatrice was so ill when this event occurred that no one ventured
to speak of it in her presence. Her life hung on a thread for many days
and depended for its continuance on absolute repose. Therefore she could
take no steps towards claiming the crown of England for her son at the
proper moment; and by the time she was convalescent her step-daughter
Anne was peacefully settled on the throne, and all hope for the young
prince vanished forever. But Simon Fraser, generally called Lord Lovat,
had proclaimed the prince King of Scotland, in the county of Inverness
as soon as the death of William III. was known there. When Mary Beatrice
was well enough to attend to business, this man presented himself at St.
Germain as the representative of a large party in his native land, and
urged the queen-mother to send her son to Scotland to fight for his
rights. He said that an army of twelve thousand men could easily be
raised in the Highlands, provided the King of France would assist with
arms and money, and that the Scottish people would spare no efforts
if they could only see the prince for whom they were to fight in their
midst. But Mary Beatrice considered her boy too young to undertake such
a perilous enterprise; and the very thought of the fate that awaited him,
should he fall into the hands of his enemies, caused her to refuse to
let him leave her. Ambition was not the leading trait of the fallen
queen.

[[A.D. 1703.]] In the autumn Lord Lovat applied to Mary Beatrice again,
and represented affairs in Scotland and Ireland as so favorable to the
interest of the prince that she was thoroughly deceived, and without
consulting any of her {316}friends, sold all the jewels she had left,
and gave the money to this treacherous creature. It was afterwards
proved that Lovat was the bribed instrument of Queen Anne's cabinet, by
whom all his expenses had been paid, while he pretended to be serving
the Prince of Wales. He did a great deal of mischief, but like many
knaves, bribed and intrigued until he overstepped the mark, and was
arrested the next time he appeared in France. He was shut up at the
Castle of Angouleme, where he was kept a close prisoner for several
years.

[[A.D. 1704.]] In August Mary Beatrice attended a grand fete at Marli,
given by Louis XIV. to celebrate the birth of a great-grandson. The
King and Princess Louisa were present also, and were given the places of
honor after their mother, who always sat at the right hand of Louis XIV.
Poor Mary Beatrice had little heart for festivities of any sort, for she
was suffering from an incurable malady which often compelled her to keep
her bed for several days at a time, and her son's health was so delicate
as to render him a constant source of anxiety to her. He was just
seventeen years of age, and the Princess Louisa was thirteen. The latter
had inherited all her mother's grace and beauty, and was considered
quite an ornament at the French court.

[[A.D. 1705.]] The young king opened a ball at Marli with his sister,
and all the time they were dancing the King of France stood as a mark
of respect. He would have done the same every time had not the
queen-mother, who sat at his side, persuaded him to sit down.

At all the festivals Mary Beatrice was placed between Louis XIV. and her
son, while Princess Louisa and the immediate members of the French royal
family occupied seats at the same table. But King Louis was not willing
to risk more money or men in an attempt to raise an insurrection
{317}against Queen Anne's government in Scotland. Even had he consented
to do so, his ministers would have opposed it. All this time Godolphin,
who in former days had felt so proud at being permitted to hand the
queen to her chair in the royal chapel, was in secret correspondence
with Mary Beatrice, and constantly flattered her with false hopes. If he
had possessed sufficient courage to make a demand of Queen Anne and her
cabinet for the payment of the royal widow's dower and all the money
due her that William III. had appropriated to his own use, no doubt the
claim would have been allowed. But fear lest certain crooked acts of his
life might be disclosed rendered him irresolute and anxious to publicly
maintain a neutral ground.

[[A.D. 1706.]] When the young king completed his eighteenth year he was
treated by every one at the court of St. Germain as their sovereign,
though the queen-mother was really the leader there as long as she
lived. At this period young James began to take some share in state
affairs, and showed no ordinary ability. He was a great favorite with
King Louis, who made frequent visits, both public and private at
St. Germain, and invited the exiles to every fete he gave at Marli,
Versailles, and Trianon.

[[A.D. 1707.]] Notwithstanding all her cares, ill health, and
disappointment, Mary Beatrice lived very pleasantly at St. Germain,
where on fine summer afternoons she would walk with Louis XIV. in the
park, attended by the whole court. It was on such occasions that the
queen-mother would ask any favor that she might require at the hands
of the monarch, and she was seldom refused. It gratified her to see
the enjoyment her children derived from the parties of pleasure
they frequently formed for the purpose of gathering flowers and wild
strawberries in the neighboring forests, {318}or of rowing on the Seine
to Pontalie. It was at that place that the Countess de Grammont lived
in a rural chateau. She was a wealthy lady, who had once been one of the
celebrated beauties at the court of Charles II., and now felt pleased
to contribute to the happiness of the exiled Stuarts, instead of turning
her back on them as many had done. She had known the young king and his
sister from infancy, and when they made excursions with their court to
her house nothing gave her greater pleasure than to provide banquets and
entertainments of every description for them.

[[A.D. 1708.]] The Grande Monarque suddenly changed his mind in the
spring, and determined to fit out a fleet, headed by the young king, for
the purpose of making a descent on the coast of Scotland. Not a word was
said about this matter until all the arrangements were completed; but as
soon as the exiled king was informed of the project, he took hasty
leave of his mother and sister and set out for Dunkirk, the place of
embarkation, ordering his luggage to be sent after him. No sooner had
he reached the coast than he was attacked by measles, which detained
him several days. Becoming impatient of delay, he was at last carried
on board one of the vessels of his fleet; but not before the English had
been warned of his approach, and were on the lookout for him.

Sir George Byng commanded the English fleet, and it is said that he
captured the "Salisbury," with the prince on board; but this is not
positively known. If he did, he saved Queen Anne a great deal of
perplexity by permitting his royal prisoner to sail out of the Frith of
Forth, where he encountered the French fleet, and return to France, for
her majesty certainly would not have known what to do with him.

The prince returned to St. Germain, but several persons

{319}

[Illustration: 0325]

{321}of high rank were captured and sent to the Tower to await their
trial for treason. Mary Beatrice wrote to the French minister, begging
him to do what he could for the prisoners, by representing them as
officers in the service of King Louis. But meanwhile Queen Anne's
cabinet set a price on the head of "the pretended Prince of Wales," as
they designated the young man. Queen Anne herself went further, and gave
him the title of "the Pretender" in her address to parliament, knowing
that such a name would do more to injure his claim to the throne than
anything else.

Shortly after his return from his unsuccessful attempt to invade
Scotland, the young prince entered the French army, and served in the
Low Countries as a volunteer, under the command of the Duke de Vendome,
who esteemed him very highly. As he had not the means to equip a camp in
accordance with his rank, the prince called himself the Chevalier de St.
George, that being the order with which his royal father had invested
him when he was only four years old.

[[A.D. 1709.]] The French met with dreadful defeat at Malplaquet. The
Chevalier de St. George fought manfully, and made twelve charges at the
head of the French troops, under a continuous fire of six hours from the
British. His right arm received a sabre cut, but he did not shrink from
his duty; and when the general sent despatches containing an account
of the battle, he added: "The Chevalier de St. George behaved himself
during the whole action with the utmost valor and energy." Mary Beatrice
felt very proud of her son, and returned to St. Germain with her
daughter to meet him, after having passed several weeks in complete
seclusion at Chaillot convent.

[[A.D. 1710.]] The chevalier made a third campaign with the French army,
but returned in bad health and spirits, {322}and spent the following
winter with his mother and sister, keeping up their separate courts at
St. Germain, as well as their poverty would admit. In the spring he
made a tour of France; and during his absence Mary Beatrice retired
to Chaillot again, where she was really happier than when compelled to
observe court ceremonies. While there the royal family of France did not
desert her, for they made her frequent visits, which she returned with
her daughter, though it cost her a struggle each time she went to court.
She always appeared in her widow's weeds; but the princess went in full
court costume.

[[A.D. 1711.]] Shortly after her son's return, Mary Beatrice received a
letter from her old friend, de Lauzun, informing her that peace between
France and England would probably soon be established, and, if so, Louis
XIV. could no longer acknowledge the title or cause of her son. This was
sad news indeed, but the poor queen bore it calmly; and upon the heels
of this report came assurance from Marlborough that the recall of the
prince seemed certain to take place soon. Thus between hope and despair
Mary Beatrice was kept in a constant state of excitement.

When we recall the vicissitudes of the queen-mother's life, our
admiration of her courage and resignation is changed to surprise that
her strength did not succumb, when in her advanced years she was called
upon to bear a cruel blow, caused by the death of the darling and pride
of her heart, the Princess Louisa.

[[A.D. 1712.]] This beautiful, affectionate, devoted daughter died of
small-pox in April, and her brother was ill of the same disease when she
was taken. The English at St. Germain were not more disconsolate than
were the French at Versailles on account of the death of this young
girl, whose charming qualities had rendered her a general favorite. But
what must have been the agony of the poor {323}mother, who, after being
deprived of the chief solace of her old age, saw her son recover only
to be separated from her by the stern decree of circumstances? The
negotiations of peace between France and England required the prince
to withdraw entirely from the French dominions, and this had only been
delayed on account of his illness.

Well, the time came at last when the Chevalier de St. George was
compelled to leave St. Germain, and his poor mother was so unhappy at
parting with him that she went to Chaillot, where, in company of the
nuns, she hoped to find comfort and resignation. She arrived at the
convent at seven o'clock in the evening, and burst into tears as she
passed through the gate, saying: "This is the first time that I feel no
joy in coming to this holy spot; but, my God, I ask not consolation, but
the accomplishment of thy divine will!"

She sat down to supper, but ate nothing; and when she retired to her
chamber, attended by the three nuns who waited on her, she exclaimed:
"At last I may give liberty to my heart and weep for my poor girl." The
nuns could not speak, their tears flowed in sympathy with their royal
visitor, who said several times between her sobs, "My God, thy will be
done," and then added: "Thou hast not waited for my death to despoil me:
thou hast done it during my life; but thy will be done."

The next day Mary Beatrice was so ill that her physicians had to be
summoned; and as she continued to grow worse, it was feared that she
would die at the convent; however, after a few days she recovered.

On the very day that the truce with England was proclaimed in Paris
the Chevalier de St. George went over from Livry to bid farewell to his
mother. He met her at the church door as she came out; and as he had
just been bled in the foot,--a form of medical treatment very popular
{324}in those days,--he was lame and leaned on his cane for support.
Mary Beatrice was suffering from an attack of gout, which obliged her
also to make use of a cane; and the mother and son laughed heartily at
the coincidence. The abbess said to the chevalier, "Sire, we hope your
majesty will do us the honor to dine with us, as your royal uncle, King
Charles, breakfasted when setting out for England."

"That journey will not be yet for me," he replied, drily.

September 7 was fixed for the chevalier's departure from Paris, and he
went again to the convent on the previous day to bid a long farewell to
his mother, whom he commended to the care of the nuns and her confessor,
Father Ruga. Three days later he arrived at the French border, where he
was to stop until his future residence should be decided upon.

Mary Beatrice remained at the convent, where she was visited from time
to time by the most distinguished people of France; and the king sent
her presents of game, fruit, and flowers.

[[A.D 1713.]] A letter from the chevalier, written at the beginning
of the following year, informed his mother that he had been most
affectionately received at Bar-le-duc by the Duke and Duchess of
Lorraine. The latter was a relation, being descended from James I., so
it was very pleasing to the queen to hear that any one in whose veins
ran Stuart blood should be kind to her son.

It was a sad day for the exiled queen when the peace of Utrecht was
signed, for one of the articles stated: "That, to insure forever the
peace and repose of Europe and of England, the King of France recognized
for himself and his successors the Protestant line of Hanover, and
agreed that he who had taken the title of King of Great Britain should
remain no longer in France."

Mary Beatrice knew that it grieved King Louis to banish {325}her son,
but he was forced by the turn political affairs had taken to do it.

The Jacobites, as the opponents of William and Mary were called in
England, never gave up the hope of seeing "the king over the water"--a
name they had given to the Chevalier de St. George--restored to the
throne, and many of them went to France from time to time on purpose to
pay their respects to the queen-mother.

At the close of the year a report reached Mary Beatrice that her son was
about to renounce the Catholic faith and become a member of the Church
of England; but a letter from him reassured her on that score, for he
wrote: "I doubt not that the reports which are in circulation of my
having changed my religion have reached you, but you know me too well to
be alarmed; and I can assure you that, with the grace of God, you will
sooner see me dead than out of the church."

There was a great deal of distress at St. Germain on account of poverty;
and as it was the loyal and faithful followers of Mary Beatrice who
actually suffered the pangs of hunger at times, she was sorely afflicted
on their account.

[[A.D. 1714.]] At last a small part of the money due her in England was
ordered to be paid by Queen Anne, which relieved the wants of many for
the time; but it was all Mary Beatrice ever received from that quarter,
and by no means freed her from debt.

Shortly after this beneficent act Queen Anne died, and the moment the
Chevalier de St. George heard it he travelled post-haste, incognito, to
Paris to consult with his mother and other friends, having made up his
mind to proceed at once to England to assert his claim to the throne.
The Duke de Lauzun had hired a small house at Chaillot in his own
name for the reception of the royal adventurer, {326}and thither Mary
Beatrice went to meet him. He did not dare to venture near St. Germain,
because he was too well known there, and preferred to keep his presence
in France secret until he could ascertain what Louis XIV. would decide
to do. That monarch had already paid dearly for the sympathy he had
shown the royal widow and her son; besides, France was in no condition
to maintain another war, so his majesty sent his minister, De Torcy, to
persuade the Chevalier de St. George to return at once to Lorraine, and
ordered at the same time that in case of refusal the young claimant of
the British crown was to be compelled to leave France immediately.

Utterly destitute of money, ships, or men, the prince was powerless to
take any stand, and meanwhile George I. was proclaimed King of England.

Louis XIV. had yielded to the urgent entreaties of Mary Beatrice in
behalf of her son in so far as to command arms to be furnished for ten
thousand men, and ships to transport them to Scotland, but before these
arrangements were completed his majesty died.

[[A.D. 1715.]] Then a formidable insurrection broke out in Scotland, and
King James III., as well as Mary, the queen-mother, were prayed for
in the churches. When Mary Beatrice heard this she was in an agony of
suspense, because she had had no news of her son for nearly three weeks.
She knew that he had left Lorraine, and vague reports had reached her
of his being in different parts of France in disguise, when suddenly
one day he appeared before her at Chaillot in the habit of a monk. The
chevalier spent only twenty-four hours with his mother, and then bade
her farewell to set out on a journey fraught with danger. Spies were
everywhere, and the identity of the strange monk was soon made known
to his enemies. He started from Chaillot in one of the post carriages
belonging to the Baron de {327}Breteul, a warm partisan of the Stuarts.
The chevalier was still disguised as a monk, and travelled attended
by some horsemen who wore the livery of his friend, the baron. At the
village of Nonancourt a shabbily dressed old woman stopped the carriage,
and going close up to the door said to the disguised occupant: "If you
are the King of England go not to the post-house or you are lost, for
several villains are waiting there to murder you."

Knowing that a bribe of a hundred thousand pounds had been set on his
head by the British government, the chevalier dared not disregard such
a piece of intelligence, but he questioned the woman further. She told
him that her name was L'Hopital, and added: "I am a lone woman, mistress
of the post-house of Nonancourt; I warn you not to approach, because I
overheard three Englishmen discussing with some desperate characters of
this neighborhood a design to kill a traveller who was to change horses
with me to-night on his way to Chateau Thierry. I drugged their wine,
and now they are so intoxicated that I locked them in the house, and
came to conduct you to the cottage of our curate, where you will be
safe."

The chevalier was struck by the woman's earnestness and simplicity,
and resigned himself to her guidance. Having conducted him and his
attendants to the house of the village pastor, L'Hopital summoned the
magistrate, who, after hearing her story, arrested the three men and
shut them up in prison. Two of them proved to be Englishmen and the
third a well known French spy.

The next morning the worthy post-mistress sent the chevalier forward
in another disguise, with fresh horses that soon carried him to Nantes,
where a vessel awaited him, in which he descended the Loire to St. Malo.
Finding an English squadron on the watch for him, the royal adventurer,
attended by six gentlemen, all dressed as French {328}naval officers,
rode on horseback to Dunkirk, where they embarked on a small vessel and
arrived at Perth, in Scotland, on the seventh of December.

Meanwhile Mary Beatrice had a severe attack of illness, occasioned by
anxiety on her son's account, for she never heard of his arrival on
British soil until he had been gone nearly two months.

Without entering into all the painful details of this expedition, it is
only necessary for us to say that, although the Scotch rejoiced at the
idea of having "the auld Stuarts back again," it resulted, as usual, in
defeat.

[[A.D. 1716.]] The Chevalier de St. George returned to France in
disguise as before, and spent several days with his mother, although
his presence on French soil was interdicted, as we know. To have her son
under the same roof with her once more was a satisfaction for which Mary
Beatrice had scarcely dared to hope; but her pleasure was short-lived,
for the very morning after she had embraced him Lord Bolingbroke, his
private secretary, waited on the chevalier to advise his immediate
return to Bar. Etiquette required him to ask permission of the Duke of
Lorraine, and as it would require several days to receive an answer
from that kinsman, the chevalier repaired to Chalons rather than risk a
longer stay on forbidden ground. His unsuccessful enterprise in Scotland
had rendered his position much worse than it had been before with regard
to the European powers, for they dared not offer him an asylum. Even his
former friend, the Duke of Lorraine, refused to receive him, and he was
advised to go to Sweden, but the spot he fixed upon was the beautiful
town of Avignon.

Although the Regent Orleans would neither grant assistance to the
Chevalier de St. George nor permit him to remain in France, he treated
the widowed queen with every mark of veneration. The British ambassador
had remonstrated {329}against her being allowed to remain at St.
Germain, but she was too much loved and pitied by all classes of people
for the regent to consent to her removal, even had he desired it.
Therefore, to her dying day Mary Beatrice maintained the state and title
of queen dowager of England, and lived undisturbed at the royal chateau
that King Louis XIV. had placed at her disposal when, as a fugitive, she
had sought his protection many years ago.

[[A.D. 1718.]] But the weary pilgrimage of poor Mary Beatrice was
drawing to a close. Her last illness attacked her in April, and by the
beginning of the following month she knew that her end was near. She
desired to receive the last sacraments of the church, and afterwards
took leave of all her faithful friends and attendants, thanking them for
their services, and desiring all present "to pray for her and for the
king, her son, that he might serve God faithfully all his life." This
she repeated in a louder tone, fearing that every one in the room, which
was full of people, might not have heard.

The dying queen asked to see Marshal Villeroi, the governor of the young
King of France, and when he appeared at her bedside sent an earnest
appeal to the Regent Orleans and Louis XV., in behalf of her son, whom
she was to see no more. She also recommended her dependants to their
care, and begged that the regent would not let them perish for want in a
foreign land when she was gone.

The next day the good queen expired, in the sixtieth year of her age and
the thirtieth of her exile. She had borne her sorrows and misfortunes
with true heroism to the last, and her death was worthy of her life.

When the mother of the Regent Orleans announced to her German relatives
that Mary Beatrice was dead, she added: "She never in her life did wrong
to any one; if {330}you were about to tell her a story about a person,
she always said: 'If it be any ill, I beg you not to relate it to me; I
do not like histories which attack the reputation.'" It would be well
for us who live in a more civilized age to lay this lesson to heart, and
emulate the pious example of Mary Beatrice.

{331}

[Illustration: 0337]

{333}




CHAPTER X. MARY II., QUEEN-REGENT OF GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND.

(A.D. 1662-1695.)

|Lady Mary of York, as this queen was styled in her youth, was a person
of small importance, so far as any prospect of her ever occupying the
throne was concerned, for this reason: She was the daughter of James,
Duke of York, second son of Charles I. and Henrietta Maria, whose
history we have related.

Charles II. succeeded his father and married Catharine of Braganza, just
at the time when Lady Mary was born, and everybody supposed that his
children would be next in the line of succession. So they would have
been if he had ever been blessed with any, but as he was not, his
brother James, the luckless king of whom the last reign contains
an account, mounted the throne, and then his daughters attained an
importance that would not otherwise have been theirs.

The Duke of York's first wife was Anne Hyde, daughter of Clarendon,
the lord chancellor, and as she was not of royal birth, a great deal of
discontent was occasioned on all sides. However, the marriage had been
secretly solemnized before any engagement was suspected, so it would
have been useless for any one to say much against it.

Lady Mary was born at St. James's Palace, only a couple of weeks before
her uncle's marriage; so the public mind was occupied with preparations
for the reception of the new bride; and the infant came into the world
as quietly. {334}as though she had not been of royal blood. She was
sent to her grandfather's house at Twickenham, where her nursery was
established; and being a very beautiful, engaging child, she was no
doubt indulged and fondled more than was good for her. She had a little
brother born when she was not more than a year and a half old; but he
died within a short time. Lady Anne of York, the subject of the next
reign, was born when Mary was three years of age, and the elder sister
stood sponsor at the baptism of the infant.

The Duke of York was so fond of Lady Mary that he kept her in his arms
all the time when he was at Twickenham, or when she was taken on a visit
at St. James's Palace. Pepys, a literary gentleman, who published a most
interesting diary of his times! says: "I was on business with the Duke
of York, and with great pleasure saw him play with his little girl just
like an ordinary private father." So we can easily imagine the romping
and merry sounds that must have enlivened the nursery when the duke made
his visits.

Shortly after the birth of Anne, the royal father returned from his
first grand naval victory, and found the Great Plague raging to such an
extent that he at once removed his wife and children to York. That place
had the double advantage of pure air, and of being in the neighborhood
of the duke's fleet, that was cruising off the northeast coast to keep
an eye on the Dutch ships.

The Duchess of York had everything about her very splendid in her
northern home, and was so happy there that when her husband was summoned
elsewhere she preferred not to accompany him. No doubt this lady had
faults,--who has not?--but her most prominent one was an excessive
love of eating. This would have harmed no one but herself; therefore we
should not have recorded it, {335}if it had not been transmitted to her
children. Both of the daughters carried this weakness even further than
their mother did, and she was injudicious enough to indulge them. As a
natural consequence the children accumulated an unhealthy quantity of
fat, and, of course, became victims of indigestion. Anne was a regular
rolly-poly as a child; but as there is a separate chapter devoted to
her we must confine the present story, as much as possible, to the elder
sister.

Ladies Mary and Anne pursued their education under the direction of Lady
Frances Villiers, daughter of the Earl of Suffolk and wife of Sir Edward
Villiers. This-lady had six daughters of her own, and must have had her
hands full with the care of eight girls. She lived with them at the old
palace at Richmond, where Queen Elizabeth died, and her daughters grew
up with the princesses, and formed a connection that lasted through
life. Being deprived of their mother when they were, respectively, six
and nine years of age, Mary and Anne naturally clung to the companions
who shared their education and to the lady who superintended it.

[[A.D. 1671.]] When the Duchess of York died she left four children, two
of whom were sons; but they followed her to the grave within the year.
By that time the succession of the Princess Mary to the throne of
England began to assume an air of probability, because, as we have said,
no children were born to Charles II. The duchess had become a convert to
Catholicism, and not very long after her death the duke was suspected of
having likewise joined that faith. This made him so unpopular that the
services he had performed for his country were all forgotten, and his
marriage, rather more than two years afterwards, with the Catholic
Princess of Modena, only served to increase the censure he had drawn
down on his own head. {336}Fearing that his nieces might be influenced
by their father's faith, King Charles undertook the supervision of their
education himself, and engaged Henry Compton, Bishop of London, for
their preceptor. This man had been a soldier until he was thirty years
old, when he became a clergyman, and was rapidly promoted on account of
the loyalty of his family. Compton was good enough as a man, but by no
means a well-informed one, consequently the princesses were not taught
as they ought to have been. People who have not had advantages of
education themselves often know its importance; but this does not seem
to have been the case with Compton, for his pupils were allowed to study
or not, just as their fancy dictated. The consequence was that the elder
sister, having inherited the literary tastes of her parents, studied
because it pleased her to do so; while Lady Anne grew up an ignoramus
because she did not so please. If the governess, Lady Frances Villiers,
had done her duty faithfully, this would not have been the case; but her
tastes lay in a different direction.

Peter de Laine was the French professor of the princesses, and made Lady
Mary so perfect a mistress of that language that she wrote it better
than her native tongue. Mr. and Mrs. Gibson gave instruction in drawing.
They were a pair of dwarfs, neither being more than three feet six
inches in height, and were considered among the best English artists of
the day. This little couple had nine full-grown children, and lived to a
good old age.

The ladies Mary and Anne continued to live at Richmond with Lady
Villiers and her daughters after their mother's death, and were very
religiously trained according to the requirements of the Church of
England. One day in the year the Duke of York's entire family always
observed as one of deep sorrow, fasting, and prayer; it was {337}the
thirtieth of January, memorable as having been the date of Charles I.'s
execution. Each year all matters of business or pleasure were laid aside
on that day, and the family appeared in deep mourning garments.

[[A.D. 1674.]] Mrs. Betterton, the principal actress at the King's
Theatre, was engaged to teach the royal sisters a ballet, which they
performed at court, and the lessons she also imparted in elocution
proved of great service when, as queens, they had speeches to make. Both
the princesses were attractive in personal appearance, though they did
not resemble each other; for Lady Mary was a Stuart in looks, tall,
graceful, slender, with a clear complexion, dark eyes and hair, while
Anne had her mother's round face and plump figure. Her hair was dark
brown, complexion ruddy, features clear cut and regular, and she had
beautiful hands and arms. Being somewhat near-sighted, Princess Anne had
a drawn look about the eyes that detracted from her beauty. Perhaps it
was this defect that prevented her studying as much as she ought to
have done; but certain it is that she never opened a book when she could
avoid it; but she was a good musician and played well on the guitar. At
a very early age Anne excelled in card-playing, and, I regret to add,
gossip. But this was the fault of King Charles's court, at which both
the princesses were introduced when they ought to have been still at
school. Lady Mary played cards as well as her sister, and for very high
stakes, but, what was worse, she employed Sunday evenings as well as
those of the week in this frivolous manner. Nobody tried to correct this
bad habit, because gambling was the chief pastime at the English court,
and had been so since the time of Henry VIII.

[[A.D. 1677.]] When Lady Mary was fifteen years old King Charles and his
councillors began to look about for a husband for her, and decided that
her cousin, William {338}Henry, Prince of Orange, would be the best
person for her to marry. Then that young man was first consulted on
the subject; his mind was so filled with war and exploits on the
battle-field that he appeared indifferent almost to rudeness; but later,
when he thought that the influence of his uncles, Charles II. and the
Duke of York, might be of advantage in a political point of view,
he went to England to see what his chances then might be with the
presumptive heiress, Mary. This prince was the son of King Charles's
sister Mary, who died when her boy was nine years of age, and left him
to the care of his grandmother, his father having been killed at sea
before he was born. He was an undersized, delicate boy of nineteen the
first time he went to England to claim the protection of his uncles, who
made some plans by which he was secured the Stadt-holdership of Holland.
That was in 1670; he was twenty-six when he returned on his matrimonial
expedition, and not much improved either in health or appearance. Prince
William had a little plan of his own which prevented his discussing his
affairs in a straightforward manner at his first interview with King
Charles. He was at war with France, and felt no desire to make peace
unless forced to do so. Should he wed the Princess of England, he
counted on assistance from her father to pursue hostilities, but he
would not commit himself until he had seen the lady; for although he was
by no means good-looking himself, he was determined to have a handsome
wife.

He was so well pleased with the Princess Mary that after his
introduction to her by King Charles, he immediately asked her hand in
marriage. It was granted on condition that the terms of a peace with
France should first be agreed upon. The prince excused himself, and
declared "that he must end his marriage before he began his peace
treaty;" then added "that his allies would be apt to believe {339}that
he had made his match at their cost, and for his part, he would never
sell his honor for a wife."

But the king remained obstinate for three or four days; then Sir William
Temple sought his presence and repeated this message sent to his majesty
by the Prince of Orange, who was in a very bad humor. It was: "That he
repented ever coming to England, and that after two days he would go
back home if the king continued in the mind he was of treating of the
peace before his marriage, and that the king must choose whether they
were to live afterwards as the greatest friends or the greatest enemies,
for it must be one or the other."

The easy-going Charles, who was always for letting everybody have his
own way, replied: "Well, I never yet was deceived in judging of a man's
honesty by his looks; and if I am not deceived in the prince's face, he
is the honestest man in the world. I will trust him--he _shall_ have
his wife. You go, Sir William Temple, and tell my brother that I have
resolved it shall be so."

The Duke of York was surprised at the suddenness of the message, but
replied: "The king shall be obeyed, and I would be glad if all his
subjects would learn of me to obey him. I tell him my opinion very
freely upon all things; but when I know his positive pleasure on a point
I obey."

The Prince of Orange was delighted at his uncle Charles's decision, and
that very evening the match was announced at the cabinet council. After
having dined at Whitehall Palace, the Duke of York returned to St.
James's, where he was then living with his family, and leading his
daughter Mary into a private room, told her how it was arranged that she
was to marry Prince William of Orange. The poor girl burst into tears
and felt very unhappy, but no one cared anything about that; and
although her heart was very heavy {340}she had to stand by her betrothed
for several succeeding days to receive deputations from the city
officials, law students, commercial companies, and others who came to
offer congratulations. A grand banquet was given by the citizens of
London to evince their pleasure at this Protestant marriage, and on the
same day the Princess Mary, with her sister Anne, and her stepmother,
Mary of Modena, sat under a canopy of state and witnessed a fine
procession.

The marriage was solemnized on the fourth of November in the bride's
bed-chamber at St. James's Palace, only the members of the royal family
being present. King Charles tried to draw attention from his niece's
excessive sadness by rollicking gayety, quite out of place on so solemn
an occasion; and when the Prince of Orange endowed his bride with all
his earthly goods, placing a handful of gold and silver coins on the
open book, the king told his niece "to gather it up and put it in her
pocket, for't was all clear gain." After the ceremony the court and
foreign ambassadors were admitted to offer congratulations. Next morning
Prince William gave his bride a present of jewels to the amount of forty
thousand pounds.

This marriage was very popular in Scotland, where, as well as in
England, all the festivities and rejoicings customary on such occasions
were observed. The groom displayed great ill-humor when the duchess had
a son born a couple of days later, because the little fellow would have
had the precedency over his wife in the succession, but, as we know, he
lived only a few weeks. It made Princess Mary no happier to find herself
united to a surly man, and what added to her distress at this time was
the illness of her sister Anne, who was suffering from small-pox, and
could neither be present at her wedding nor take leave of her when, a
week later, she departed for Holland. The

{341}

[Illustration: 0347]

{343}prince wanted to get his wife away from St. James's as soon as
possible lest she might catch the infection; but she would not leave her
father until the dreaded moment of sailing arrived. This made the groom
so angry that everybody spoke of how cross and ugly he was, and the
maids-of-honor of the queen called him the "Dutch monster," and other
horrid names. He was angry with the wind, too, because it would continue
to blow in the wrong direction, and keep him in England longer than
he desired. Several people were lying dangerously ill at St. James's
Palace; two or three had died since the wedding; Anne continued too ill
to see her sister, and all was gloom and sorrow around the bride. At
last, on the nineteenth of November, the wind changed, and the two
palaces of Whitehall and St. James were at once bustle and confusion
with preparations for the departure of the Princess of Orange and her
husband. At nine o'clock in the morning the bride bade farewell to
her old home and went to Whitehall to embrace her royal aunt, Queen
Catharine, whom she loved very dearly. It was then that the queen told
her to consider how much better her case was than her own, for when she
came from Portugal she had not even seen King Charles, and Mary replied
between her sobs: "But, madame, remember _you_ came _into_ England, I am
going out of England." The king and the Duke of York, with a large party
of nobility and gentry, embarked-on the royal barges at Whitehall and
accompanied the Prince and Princess of Orange down the river to Erith,
where they were to dine. Then Mary parted with her father and uncle
and set sail for Holland, several English and Dutch men-of-war being
in attendance to conduct the royal yacht across the sea. If the Duke of
York had known his son-in-law as well at that time as he did later, he
would have set a watch on his movements until he was well out of the
kingdom; but an {344}unfavorable shifting of the wind gave the ambitious
prince a chance of playing a mean trick on the duke, who on hearing that
the Dutch fleet was detained at Sheerness, sent a messenger to invite
the bride and groom to pass the time at Whitehall. William declined, but
went ashore with his wife and became the guest of Colonel Dorrell, the
governor. Next day they proceeded to Canterbury, accompanied by Lady
Inchiquin (one of the Villiers girls), a maid, and the prince's two
favorites, Bentinck and Odyke. Arriving at the inn, the prince applied
to the city authorities for a loan, saying that he had been sent away
from London in haste without a penny, because King Charles and the Duke
of York were so jealous of any favor shown him that they were afraid the
lord mayor would give him a grand feast, and hurried him off to prevent
it. As we know the entertainment was given, and the prince and princess,
as well as the rest of the royal family were present, of course the
statement was false, and by refusing the loan the corporation of
Canterbury showed very plainly that they considered it so. But Doctor
Tillotson, the Dean of Canterbury, gathered together all the plate and
ready money he could command, and hastened with them to the inn, where
he requested an interview with Mr. Bentinck, and not only placed all his
wealth at the disposal of the prince, but offered him an asylum at the
deanery, a more proper stopping-place for one of his rank than a common
inn. The money and plate were accepted, but the offer of hospitality
was declined. Now, it was perfectly useless for Prince William to demand
money from any one but his uncles, who would have supplied him without
hesitation. Besides, as the first instalment of Princess Mary's portion
of forty thousand pounds had been paid, his credit was perfectly good in
London, and the prime minister, Danby, would not have been applied to
in vain. But the prince was so {345}angry on account of the birth of his
little brother-in-law that he wanted to appear in the light of a very
ill-used person, and this game was a bold political stroke to obtain
partisans before leaving the country. And he succeeded, for Dr.
Tillotson became a serviceable friend, who corresponded with the prince
and Mr. Bentinck, and gave them some valuable information for which he
was made an archbishop a few years later. Four days the Prince of Orange
devoted to courting favor with the people of Kent, and then set sail on
board the "Montague" at Margate.

The princess was accompanied by Lady Inchiquin and her two sisters,
Elizabeth and Anne Villiers, whose mother had died just after they bade
her adieu at Richmond Palace. These were ladies-of-honor, and there was
still another, named Mary Worth. After a very stormy passage, during
which everybody was sea-sick excepting Princess Mary, the royal fleet
arrived at Tethudo, a town on the Holland coast, and their majesties
proceeded to Hounslardyke Palace. The preparations for their reception
went forward so slowly that they could not make their public entry into
the Hague until the end of a fortnight, but everything was arranged with
great magnificence. The bridge at the entrance of the town was festooned
with garlands of flowers, surrounding appropriate Latin inscriptions,
and twelve companies of soldiers were drawn up in line on either side.
Twenty-four virgins, in gay costumes, walked two and two on either side
of their highnesses' coach, strewing fresh flowers and evergreens in the
path all the way. In front of the town hall was a triumphal arch hung
with banners, ferns, and gay ribbons, displaying the crests of the
prince and princess side by side, and over them two hands holding a
Latin motto, which, rendered into English, read thus:--

               "What Halcyon airs this royal Hymen sings,

               The Olive branch of peace her dower she brings."

{346}The royal cortege passed beneath this arch on to Hoog-straet, where
another bore this inscription:--

               "To the Batavian court, with Heaven's best smile,

               Approach fair guest, and bless this happy pile."

And so with a fine display of loyalty from their subjects, that greeted
their eyes and ears at every turn,--for there was music, the beating of
drums, and ringing of bells besides,--the royal pair passed through the
principal streets to their palace.

That evening there were brilliant fireworks representing, in turn, St.
George on horseback, fountains, pyramids, enormous castles, chariots
containing the gods descending from the skies in a blaze of fire,
flower-pots, animals, and a variety of novel devices. The following
day all the "Herrs" of note called to pay their respects, but it is not
necessary for us to recall the long unpronounceable names. The usual
celebrations followed, and after that Princess Mary resorted to her old
propensity for gambling, in which she was encouraged by her husband, who
carried this vice further than she did.

Not long after the arrival of the Princess of Orange, as we must call
her now, the Archbishop of Canterbury recommended Dr. Hooper for her
almoner and chaplain. On his arrival in Holland he found the princess
without a chapel or a room of any kind that could be put to that use,
except the dining-room. This she willingly relinquished, because she and
the prince never took their meals together, and for the sake of obliging
Dr. Hooper she was willing to dine in a small, dark parlor, which,
though not very comfortable, answered the purpose. Dr. Hooper was
ordered to fit up the chapel; but so alarmed was the princess lest
she might suffer from having incurred her lord's displeasure, that she
insisted upon the almoner's being present on a certain afternoon, when
his majesty was

{347}

[Illustration: 0353]

{349}to inspect the arrangements, to bear part of the brunt of his
ill-nature. The first thing he did on entering the chapel was to turn up
his nose contemptuously, kick over the chair placed on the steps of the
dias tor his wife, and ask roughly for whom it was intended. Then he
inquired the use of each article that struck his notice, and with an
emphatic "Hum!" left the chapel, which he entered only once or twice
after that. The princess attended every day, taking great pains not to
make the chaplain wait. The prince had given his wife certain religious
books to read, which Dr. Hooper replaced with those he preferred for
her. This excited the prince's displeasure, and one day on finding
her deeply interested in a work not in accordance with his belief, he
stormed furiously, and said: "What!--will you read such books? I suppose
it is Dr. Hooper persuades you to do it."

While the Princess of Orange was under the good influence of Dr. Hooper,
her sister Anne had established her little court at St. James's, and
passed most of her time gambling and gossiping. Her most intimate friend
was Sarah Jennings, who, at the age of fifteen, had secretly married the
handsome Colonel Churchill, the Duke of York's favorite gentleman. This
lady afterwards became the Duchess of Marlborough, a very important
personage in the political world. Her tastes were similar to those of
the Princess Anne, over whom she had a very baneful influence. Barbara
Villiers, now Mrs. Berkley, third daughter of her late governess, was
Anne's first lady-inwaiting; thus we see four of the ladies of this
family in direct attendance upon the two princesses who later occupied
the British throne.

But to return to Holland. At the Hague the Princess of Orange found
three beautiful palaces. One was called "the Hague," a splendid Gothic
structure, where all the {350}business of state was transacted. Mary
never went there, excepting, on occasions of great ceremony. About
a mile from this castle stood the palace in the wood, surrounded by
stately oaks and one of the most beautiful gardens in the whole of
Europe. That was the home of the Princess of Orange. A long avenue
formed by two rows of wide-spreading trees, whose branches met and
formed a canopy overhead, led to the main door of the palace, and clean,
freshly gravelled walks wound in and out to the utmost limit of the
well-kept grounds. Not far off was a dower palace, called the Old Court.
A paved walk, also bordered with fine old trees, trimmed in the shape of
pyramids, led from the Hague to the seaport of Scheveling; and, as this
was open to the public, every passenger had to pay a small toll to keep
it in good order.

But the English attendants who had accompanied the princess wanted
something besides a beautiful residence; they were not pleased with
their new home, and longed for England and the old scenes and old faces
they had left behind them. The princess was fortunate in having her
uncle, Lord Clarendon, with her. He was ambassador at the Hague when she
first arrived; and, as her husband was called away shortly after, it was
most agreeable to have her uncle's protection.

[[A.D. 1678.]] The Prince of Orange returned from hunting one day, and
after reading a few letters announced his intention to proceed at once
to France. The princess accompanied her husband as far as Rotterdam, and
then bade him farewell.

During his absence the princess made a tour of her dominions, moving
from place to place in her barge by canal. While travelling in this
primitive manner, the ladies of the court amused themselves with
needlework or card-playing; and when Princess Mary sewed, Dr. Hooper
would read

{351}

[Illustration: 0357]

{353}from some serious work. Although not seventeen years of age at that
time, the princess managed her ladies remarkably well. She never showed
more favor to one than another; insisted on the observance of every
point of etiquette, and exercised so much authority that a look from her
was sufficient to put a stop to any conversation that did not meet with
her approval. Some years later Dr. Hooper paid her the compliment
of saying, "that during the entire time of his sojourn in her
household,--over a year and a half,--he never heard her say or saw her
do one thing that he could have wished she had not said or done."

The climate of Holland did not agree with the princess, and she had a
dangerous attack of malarial fever the following summer, from which she
did not entirely recover for many weeks. With the hope of cheering her
and accelerating her convalescence, the Duke of York sent his wife and
his daughter Anne to visit her. Princess Mary was beside herself with
joy, for she had not seen her sister since her marriage, and she had
always been the best of friends with her stepmother. The Duchess of York
called her "the Lemon," and her husband "the Orange": and most of her
letters to Mary before the revolution began "My dear Lemon."

[[A.D. 1679.]] The following year the Duke of York was banished from
England on account of his religion, and went to visit his daughter in
Holland, who treated him with the most tender affection. Her health was
not then entirely restored, for she still suffered from attacks of ague,
and was ordered to try the climate of Dieren, where her husband owned
a hunting palace. The change did her a great deal of good, and she
returned to the Palace of the Wood in time to see Dr. Hooper go back
to England to marry a lady to whom he had been engaged for many months.
{354}Mary was very much alarmed lest she should lose the services of her
almoner, and begged him to prevail upon his lady to come to Holland. He
promised to do his best and succeeded; but it was very mortifying to the
princess that she was unable to extend her hospitality to Mrs. Hooper.
The doctor had always taken his meals with the ladies of the bed-chamber
and the maids-of-honor of the princess, and his wife was invited to do
the same.

But knowing, as everybody did, that Prince William was too stingy to
be willing to feed one person more than he was actually obliged to, Dr.
Hooper never allowed his wife to eat at the palace, but took his meals
with her at their lodging-house, not far away. Fortunately he was a man
of means, for as he received only a few pounds from Prince William
for all his services at the Dutch court he could not otherwise have
subsisted.

The Princess Mary had another visit from her sister Anne, when she was
permitted by King Charles to join her father during his banishment; and
the whole family of the Duke of York spent some time together in Holland
on the most amicable terms. At that period Mary did not know how her
husband was intriguing with such men as Sunderland, Oates, and Bedloe,
who were mixed up in the popish plot, for the purpose of depriving her
father of his succession, and bringing on her native land the curse of
civil war. She would have been horrified at such an idea.

Princess Mary was not happily married, for her husband was so cross and
disagreeable that it was impossible for her to love him. Her life was
almost one of imprisonment, because, although she was condescension
itself to the wives of the burgomasters and other ladies, she never lost
sight of her own high birth sufficiently to permit of any intimacy or
exchange of visits; consequently she was confined to the narrow circle
of her own court, which was very tiresome {355}to a woman accustomed to
all the pomp, grandeur, and gayety of royal life in England.

One thing that interested her was the building of a palace by her
husband at Loo. She laid the corner-stone with all the ceremony that
usually attends such a performance, and planned the decorations of the
building as well as the laying out of the gardens and walks. After the
palace was completed, Princess Mary occupied apartments that were called
"the queen's suite" forever after, though when she became Queen of
England she ceased to live in Holland, and never even visited there.
Under the windows of this suite was "the queen's garden," in the centre
of which was a splendid large fountain. This garden opened through
a hedge into another adorned with a number of fine statues. Then the
princess had a poultry-yard, where she raised a fine breed of fowls
that she was fond of tending, feeding, and watching,--an amusement that
served to pass away many a tedious hour.

[[A.D. 1680.]] Beyond the park was an immense aqueduct that supplied all
the fountains and the fish-pond, as well as the means for irrigating;
then there were further on long shady walks that terminated in a grove,
where Mary often went to enjoy an hour's solitude, or perhaps to weep
over her forlorn situation. She read, embroidered, and continued her
drawing-lessons with Gibson, the dwarf master, who had followed her to
Holland but had scarcely any society besides her maids-of-honor and her
good nurse, Mrs. Langford, whose husband was one of her chaplains. All
her English attendants were heartily detested by the prince, who managed
to get rid of as many of them as possible and replace them with his
Dutch subjects, who were, in most instances, by no means agreeable to
Mary.

[[A.D. 1684.]] Year by year William of Orange imposed so many acts of
cruelty on his wife that at last she was {356}almost afraid to express
her opinion on any subject, and by the grossest misrepresentations
he turned her heart from her own family, and in every possible way
encouraged an intimacy between her and the Duke of Monmouth while he was
an exile from England. This was before the Duke of York had ascended the
throne. Charles II. had banished Monmouth from his realm; and William's
object in being so friendly with him was, that in this enemy of the Duke
of York he knew he should find a powerful ally who would further any
plan of his, no matter how unscrupulous, by which he meant to prevent
James from assuming the crown and usurp his place. The banished duke
must have exerted a powerful influence over the mind of the princess in
some mysterious way, otherwise it is hard to understand how she could
consent to show marks of favor to a man who calumniated her own father.
But she was sadly changed by this time, and all the affection she had
once entertained for her parents had vanished. She went constantly to
hear political sermons preached against her father, who was accused of
dreadful crimes, that, whether true or false, should never have been
pronounced within the hearing of his daughter. Her life that had been so
monotonous became gay in the extreme after the appearance of Monmouth
at the Hague; and she danced, flirted, and promenaded with him in a most
undignified manner. Her father heard of this conduct, and remonstrated
with the princess. She shed tears over his letter, but said, "that the
prince was her master and would be obeyed." This was partly true, no
doubt; but after being shut up as she had been for several years, she
went to the other extreme, and enjoyed the gayety that her husband
permitted her to indulge in while he was using her as a tool to
further his intrigues with Monmouth. She is certainly to blame for her
undignified behavior, but still more for the disrespect {357}she showed
her father, who had always been most kind and indulgent to her. In one
of his fault-finding letters he wrote his daughter to warn her husband
against Monmouth, who, in the event of King Charles's death and his
own, would, he assured her, give them a struggle before they could get
possession of the throne of Great Britain. Thus we see that James knew
Monmouth was not to be trusted, though suspicion with regard to his
son-in-law had not yet entered his head.

It was not long after the marriage of Mary that King Charles began to
think about a husband for his other niece, the Princess Anne. Several
candidates for her hand were duly presented and considered, but at last
the choice fell on Prince George of Denmark, brother to King Christian
of that country. He was a valiant soldier, and had distinguished himself
in several battles with the Swedes, during which he had rescued his
brother, the king, from the enemy by his wonderful dash and presence of
mind. He and the Princess Anne were married in 1683; and their nuptials,
unlike those of Mary and the Prince of Orange, were conducted with great
pomp, and succeeded by the usual celebrations. King Charles settled on
the bride an income of twenty thousand pounds per annum, and presented
her with a small palace adjoining Whitehall for her residence, for it
was arranged that she was not to go to Denmark to live.

[[A.D. 1685.]] We have spoken of the gay doings at the Holland court,
but they were not to continue long; for suddenly everything was changed
to mourning on the announcement of the death of King Charles II. of
England. Princess Mary was very much grieved on account of this sad
event, for all her remembrances of her uncle were of the most agreeable
nature. The Duke of Monmouth and Prince William were closeted together
for several hours after the {358}news came, and that very night the duke
started for England.

[Illustration: 0364]

But so secretly were his preparations and departure made that he was
supposed to be shut up in his own room until late on the following clay.
It was the prince who furnished him with money for the rash invasion of
England which resulted in his execution. The details of his bold exploit
are given in the last reign.

After James was firmly seated on the throne, it would never do tor the
Prince of Orange to appear in the light of {359}an enemy, so he had to
change his tactics forthwith. He pretended that the affectionate letters
to his wife from her father were addressed to himself, and read them
aloud to the ambassadors. To the king he wrote in the most humble terms,
promising fidelity till death, and explaining that Monmouth had received
only common hospitality at his hands, and been sent away-from the Hague
as soon as possible.

Certainly James II. regretted the necessity which compelled him to put
Monmouth to death, but Princess Mary had formed such an attachment for
him that she never forgave her father for causing that execution.

[[A.D. 1686.]] During the following spring a plot against the life of
Prince William was revealed to the princess, and she became so alarmed
that she obtained for him a bodyguard, which had not previously been
considered at all necessary.

Then William Penn was sent by James II. to convince the prince that all
laws tending to religious persecutions ought to be abolished; but his
errand was a failure, because the prince declared "that he would lose
all the revenues and prospects of the kingdom of Great Britain, to which
his wife was heiress, before one should be abolished." And the princess
indorsed this decision, adding: "That if ever she were Queen of England
she should do more for the Protestants than even Queen Elizabeth had
done."

Penn spoke so plainly to the princess, and expressed his opinion so
freely, that she disliked him forever after.

[[A.D. 1688.]] The Prince and Princess of Orange had their spies in
England, who kept them daily informed of every change in the political
drama. Of these Lord and Lady Sunderland were the principal agents, and
as this lord was prime minister he had special facilities for gaining
knowledge. Another was the Princess Anne whose letters {360}were
remarkable for coarseness, vulgarity, and bad spelling. As she did not
know of the bond existing between Lady Sunderland and her sister Mary,
she sometimes filled her letters with abuse of that person, on whom she
did not hesitate to bestow some very hard epithets. Her remarks must
often have amused both William and Mary, who were better aware of what
was going on in Great Britain than she was, although they were not on
the spot. One of Anne's letters closes with this sentence: "One thing I
forgot to tell you about Lord Sunderland, which is that it is thought
if everything does not go here as he would have it, that he will pick
a quarrel with the court and so retire, and possibly make his court to
you."

This shows that the princess little suspected Lord Sunderland of already
being in the service of William. She had reasons of her own for trying
to create ill-feeling between Mary and her father; and once when the
princess had hinted at the possibility of her visiting England, Anne
warned her in rather vague terms that her life might be in danger were
she to present herself at her father's court.

If Mary had considered how kind and indulgent that father had always
been to his children, she would have insisted on an explanation; but the
correspondence between these two sisters was interrupted for awhile
by Anne's illness. The king watched by her bedside until she was past
danger, and nursed her with the most tender care. What would have been
his feelings, could he have known the treachery of the invalid at
whose side he sat hour after hour, anxiously awaiting the result of her
disease?

Shortly after her recovery, Princess Anne asked permission of her father
to spend a few weeks at the Hague. The Prince of Denmark, her husband,
was going on a visit to his native land, and it was his wife's plan that
she should be conducted by him to her sister's court, there to remain
{361}until his return. Her confidential friend, Lady Churchill, was to
accompany her. But King James had begun to see something of the part
his children were playing against him, and peremptorily refused to allow
Anne to leave England. In a fit of temper at being thus opposed she
retired to Bath, where she remained until after the birth of her
brother, whose appearance in the world was most unwelcome to both her
and Mary of Orange.

Meanwhile affairs had taken such a turn that King James's downfall was
rapidly approaching. His adherence to the Catholic cause deprived him of
support from the Reformed church, and obliged some of the best and most
loyal of his subjects to stand by and witness his ruin, though with
intense pain, because they were unable to stir hand or foot in his
behalf.

Lord Clarendon, who had by this time returned to London from the
Hague, was one of these. It will be remembered that he was King James's
brother-in law, and a warm friendship had always existed between the
two men. It was most painful to him to observe the indifference of Anne
towards her father, particularly when reports reached England that the
Prince of Orange was coming over with an army to invade the country.
Clarendon questioned the princess to find out how much she knew of the
matter, but could get very little satisfaction, for she evaded him as
much as possible, and pretended to have no information but that which
her husband had received from the king himself. After several vain
attempts to induce his niece to speak to her father and endeavor
to console him,--for he had sunken into a most painful state of
melancholy,--Lord Clarendon begged her at least to urge the king to
consult with some of his old friends, each and all of whom were warmly
attached to him. But this unnatural daughter put him off, and preferred
to increase her father's anguish. {362}One day in October there was a
royal levee at Whitehall. The king was in a painfully depressed state
of mind, and told Lord Clarendon that the Prince of Orange had embarked
with his Dutch troops, and only awaited a favorable wind to sail,
adding, "I have nothing by this day's post from my daughter Mary; and it
is the first time I have missed hearing from her for a long while."

The unfortunate father never heard from her again.

Lord Clarendon made another attempt to induce Anne to save her father,
which she might have done if she had chosen; but she did not, and
treated every proposition with disgusting levity.

Louis XIV. offered to intercept the Dutch fleet; but James declined his
aid, because of the confidence he felt in his daughter Mary. Her last
letter assured him that the prince's fleet was made ready to repel an
attack of the French, which was hourly expected; and the fond, confiding
father believed her.

It was Dr. Burnet, a well-known author and minister, who undertook
to explain to the Princess of Orange all the details of the political
situation; and after the prince decided to get possession of the throne
of Great Britain, he asked her what would be her husband's position, she
being the heir and not he.

She replied that she had not considered that point, but would be obliged
to him if he would tell her. Burnet, who was evidently acting in the
interest of the prince, replied, "That she must be contented as a wife
to engage in her husband's interest and give him the real authority as
soon as it came into her hands." Mary consented, and asked the doctor to
bring the prince to her that she might assure him of her submission
to his will. William was hunting that day; but on the morrow, after
informing him of the conversation with the princess, Burnet conducted
him to her presence. {363}Mary told him that she was surprised to hear
from the doctor how, by the laws of England, a husband could be made
subservient to his wife, providing the title of king came to him through
her; and added a solemn promise that she should always be obedient to
him, and that _he_ should rule, not she. It seems surprising that so
faithless a daughter should have been so dutiful a wife; but the prince
had broken her spirit by his frequent acts of cruelty and neglect, and
she was as submissive as a whipped cur.

Instead of thanking his wife, William treated her decision as a matter
of course, and merely answered with a grunt of satisfaction, giving Dr.
Burnet great credit for the persuasive eloquence that had brought about
so favorable a result.

In October the Prince of Orange sailed with a fleet of fifty-two ships
of war; and, after a very stormy voyage, landed at an English village on
the anniversary of the Gunpowder Plot.

Meeting with no opposition, he marched four miles into Devonshire,
followed by his entire force. The prince knew what a risk he was taking,
and waited with breathless anxiety to see how many of the west of
England people would flock to his standard.

He published a declaration that the Prince of Wales was not the real
child of James II.; but that a strange baby had been adopted to impose
on the British nation, who was to rule them as a Roman Catholic. This
was done to prevent the country from educating the prince according
to the doctrines of the Church of England, which would probably have
established his succession. Of course a child upon whose birth any doubt
was cast could never rule as a Catholic, nor be educated by the state
for any purpose; therefore the daughters of James II. pretended to
{364}believe the falsehood, knowing that in the event of the prince's
accession they would stand no chance of ever wearing the crown.

News arrived in London that Lord Cornbury, eldest son of the Earl of
Clarendon, had deserted the king's army with three regiments, and gone
over to the enemy. Clarendon was overcome with grief and shame at such
conduct on the part of one of his flesh and blood. When Princess Anne
saw him she asked why he had not been to see her for several days. He
replied, "that he was so much concerned for the villany his son had
committed that he was ashamed of being seen anywhere."

"Oh," replied the princess, "people are so apprehensive of popery that
you will find many more of the army will do the same."

And she was right; for desertions became of daily occurrence, and
King James was surrounded by traitors on all sides. Anne knew of Lord
Cornbury's intended desertion, and was anxiously awaiting news from her
husband, who, with a display of affection and sincerity, had gone off
with her father to assist in defending him against the Prince of Orange.
Lord Churchill and Sir George Hewett were with the king also; and these
two were concerned in a plot against the life of their sovereign, which
the latter confessed on his deathbed some years later.

Every time the king heard that one of his officers had gone over to
the enemy, Prince George of Denmark would raise his eyes and hands with
affected surprise, and exclaim, "Is it possible!" At last, after supping
with the king and speaking in terms of abhorrence of all deserters, the
prince, Churchill, and Hewett, taking advantage of an attack of illness
that had suddenly seized their sovereign, went off in the night to the
hostile camp. When informed of it, James exclaimed: "How? Has 'Is It
Possible' gone {365}off, too?" Yet this departure was a cruel blow to
the father, who said: "After all, I only mind his conduct as connected
with my child; otherwise the loss of a stout trooper would have been
greater."

In expectation of her husband's desertion, Anne had made arrangements
for her own flight; and no sooner did the news reach her that he had
gone than she followed. It was Sunday night, and the princess retired to
her room at the usual hour. Mrs. Danvers, the lady-in-waiting, was not
in the secret, and went to bed as usual in the ante-chamber. Ladies
Fitzharding and Churchill had entered Princess Anne's room early in the
evening, and hidden themselves by agreement in her dressing-room. At
midnight, accompanied by these two women, the princess stole out of
the palace, and met Lord Dorset in St. James's Park. A coach stood in
waiting a little distance off; but the rain poured in torrents, and the
mud was so deep that Anne lost one of her shoes in a puddle, from which
there was neither time nor inclination to extricate it. This little
accident was treated as a joke by the adventurers, who laughed heartily,
while Lord Dorset gallantly stuck the princess's foot into one of the
kid gauntlets he had pulled off; and assisted her to hop forward to the
carriage. The party drove to the Bishop of London's house, where they
were refreshed and the princess supplied with shoes, and started by
daybreak for Lord Dorset's castle in Waltham Forest.

After a few hours' rest they proceeded to Nottingham, where the Earl of
Northampton, attired in military uniform, raised a purple standard in
the name of the laws and liberties of England, and invited the people to
gather around the Protestant heiress to the throne. Afterwards Anne went
on to Warwick, where there was a project on foot for the extermination
of all the <DW7>s in England. Although the princess knew that her
father's head would be the first to {366}fall should such a plan be
carried into effect, she was so unnatural as to favor it.

A tremendous uproar was raised when Anne's women-in-waiting entered her
room the morning after her flight and found her bed undisturbed and
the princess herself missing. Before many minutes the whole court was
aroused with the lamentations of the people, who declared that the
princess had been murdered by the queen's priests. The storm rose to
such a height that a mob collected in the street and swore that the
palace should be pulled down, and Mary Beatrice pulled to pieces if
Anne were not forthcoming. No doubt the threat would have been put
into execution had it not been for the discovery of a letter which the
missing princess had left lying on her toilet-table, stating that she
had gone off to avoid the king's displeasure on account of her husband's
desertion; and that she should remain away until a reconciliation had
been effected. "Never was any one," she wrote, "in such an unhappy
condition, so divided between duty to a father and a husband; and
therefore I know not what I must do but to follow one to preserve the
other." This would be all very well if she had been dutiful to her
father; but as she had only one week before informed Orange by letter
that her husband would soon be with him, ready to serve his cause to the
utmost, we can only feel intense disgust at such deception {367}




CHAPTER XI.

|James II. arrived in London just after the excitement caused by Anne's
escape had subsided. He had been obliged to leave his army on account
of illness, and when he heard of his daughter's conduct, he struck his
breast and exclaimed: "God help me! my own children have forsaken me in
my distress." From that moment he lost heart and ceased to struggle to
retain his crown; but he never censured Anne as he might have done, nor
was he aware of the extent of her treachery.

Meanwhile, the Prince of Orange induced many of the most loyal subjects
of the crown to join him by circulating the report that he had come to
England for the sole purpose of establishing peace between James II.
and his people. So he advanced as far as Henley, and while resting there
heard, to his unspeakable joy, that the king had disbanded his army, and
followed his wife, who, with the Prince of Wales, had escaped to France.
They could not more completely have played into his hand.

Prince George of Denmark waited for his wife at Oxford, which place
she entered with military state, escorted by several thousand mounted
gentlemen, who, with their tenants, had joined her followers as she
passed through the various counties. Bishop Compton, Anne's early tutor,
rode before her in military dress, and carried a purple flag in token of
his adherence to her cause. {368}James had been captured and taken back
to Whitehall, so William of Orange stopped at Windsor and sent his Dutch
guard forward to expel his uncle; for neither he nor his sister-in-law
dared to face the father whom they had so basely injured. The next day
the prince entered London quietly, went straight to St. James's Palace,
and retired to his bedchamber. In the evening bells rang, guns fired,
and there was general rejoicing among the Orange party. A few days later
the Prince and Princess of Denmark returned, and took up their abode
at the palace they had lived in ever since their marriage, called the
Cockpit, because the site of it had once been used for that barbarous
amusement.

[[A.D. 1689.]] Anne felt no regret at the fate that had overtaken
her unfortunate father, but triumphantly appeared in public with Lady
Churchill, both decked in orange ribbons, an emblem of the cause they
had espoused. Her uncle, Lord Clarendon, took her severely to task for
not showing some concern on account of her father's downfall, but she
proved very plainly that she felt none; but it was not many weeks before
she regretted having taken sides with William. This was not because of
any qualms of conscience, or awakening of affection for her parent,--no,
indeed! It was only that her interests were at stake, and her rights in
danger of being forfeited. A convention had been called to arrange how
the kingdom was to be governed, and as leader of a well-disciplined army
of fourteen thousand foreign soldiers, quartered in and about London,
the Prince of Orange was likely to have the matter settled just as he
chose. The convention were perplexed, however; for though they decided
to exclude the Prince of Wales and settle the succession on Mary of
Orange, they were by no means willing, in the event of her death, to
have the kingdom governed by a foreigner, particularly as his religion

{369}

[Illustration: 0375]

{371}was as far removed from that of the Church of England as James's
was.

While they were considering this matter William was so taciturn and
glum that the English lords could not find out what he wanted, so they
applied to some of his Dutch attendants to know what ailed their master,
and were informed that if Princess Mary was to occupy the throne and
take precedence of her husband he would go back to Holland; for he
was not willing to be tied by apron strings, or to play the part of
gentleman-usher to his own wife. The English nobles were more perplexed
than ever; but at this juncture Dr. Burnet came to their relief, and
said, that as Mary's spiritual adviser he was well aware of how she
would decide if the matter were left to her, because she had told him
that she preferred yielding precedence to her husband in every affair of
life. Then word was sent to the Princess Mary, "that if she considered
it proper to insist on her lineal rights the convention would persist
in declaring her sole sovereign." Her answer was: "That she was the
prince's wife, and never meant to be other than in subjection to him,
and that she did not thank any one for setting up for her an interest
divided from that of her husband." That settled the matter; for the
national convention of lords and commons decided that the Prince of
Orange was to be offered the crown, and that his wife was to have joint
sovereignty. Their children, if they had any, were to succeed them, but
if not the Princess Anne was next in the line.

Being satisfied at last, William permitted his wife to join him in
England. The Princess of Orange had made herself beloved in Holland, and
tears filled her eyes when she heard one of the common people say, as
she was embarking, "that he hoped the English might love her as well as
those had done whom she was leaving." {372}A swift, pleasant voyage soon
brought Princess Mary to Gravesend, where she was met by her sister
and Prince George of Denmark. The two sisters were so elated at their
success that they embraced again and again, and went into perfect
transports of joy. Amidst a chorus of shouts and welcomes they entered
their exiled father's barge, and soon landed at Whitehall, where William
met them. All those who witnessed Mary's conduct that day, even her best
friends, were shocked. Gravity would have been becoming considering that
she was taking possession of the home from which reverse of fortune had
driven her father only a few days before; but she was excessively gay,
and went all over the palace, looking into the cupboards, examining the
furniture, and making remarks upon what had been removed, and what left
for her use with revolting heartlessness. She took possession of the
apartments Mary Beatrice had used, slept in her bed, made use of her
toilet articles, and within a night or two sat down to a game of basset
in the very spot her predecessor had occupied.

Next day the ceremony of recognition of William and Mary as sovereigns
of England took place. They proceeded in state robes to the banqueting
hall of the palace, and placed themselves in chairs of state under the
royal canopy, their attendants taking their respective places near
by. Then Lord Halifax made a short speech, desiring their majesties to
accept the crown. The prince answered, and the princess curtsied, but
showed no reluctance at assuming her father's crown. After affixing
their names to the Bill of Rights, which promised enjoyment of religious
liberty to every Protestant Englishman, William III. and Mary II. were
proclaimed king and queen.

Lord Clarendon was so disgusted with the turn of affairs that he retired
to his country seat, but he sent a letter to his niece, which must
have contained some unflattering {373}remarks, for his wife, to whom he
intrusted it, was afraid to deliver it. His brother Laurence had been
civilly received by William; but Mary had refused to see him or his
children, little girls of seven and eight years, respectively.

After a few weeks of London life King William hurried his wife away
with him to Hampton Court, and only went to town on business. He pleaded
ill-health as an excuse; but his conduct gave great dissatisfaction,
because diversions that had attended previous courts disappeared, and
the king was so surly that people feared to approach him. The queen was
vivacious and affable, but as she took little or no interest in state
affairs, nothing was to be gained by special attention to her, so few
gathered about her.

There were many loyal citizens who positively refused to take an oath of
allegiance to the new sovereigns. Among these were Lord Clarendon, four
of the bishops who had been sent to the Tower by James II., and several
hundred members of the English clergy, besides Archbishop San-croft,
who it was fondly hoped would perform the coronation ceremony. That
important event next occupied the attention of everybody at court. A new
globe, sceptre, and sword of state were made for Mary II., but she was
to wear the beautiful crown that her father had provided for his queen.

The eleventh of April was the day appointed; it was fraught with anxiety
and care, for just as the king and queen were ready to set out for
Westminster Hall news was brought to them of the successful landing of
James II. in Ireland. Added to that, a letter was handed to Queen Mary
by her lord chamberlain, which proved to be from her father,--the
first he had written her since her arrival in England. He wrote: "That
hitherto he had made all fatherly excuses for what had been done, and
had attributed her part in the revolution to obedience to her husband;
{374}but the act of being crowned was in her own power, and if she were
crowned while he and the Prince of Wales were living, the curses of
an outraged father would light upon her as well as of that God who has
commanded duty to parents."

After reading this awful letter, William declared that he "had done
nothing but by his wife's advice and approbation;" and she retorted,
"That if her father regained his authority her husband might thank
himself for letting him go as he did." When these words were reported
to King James he felt convinced that his daughter Mary had desired some
cruel act to be committed towards him.

Whether she had or no, she must have performed her part in the
coronation ceremony with a heavy heart, for with a father's curse
resting upon her how could it have been otherwise!

As the clock struck twelve the king descended the stairs of Whitehall,
entered the royal barge, and was rowed to Westminster Palace, where,
in a private chamber, he dressed himself in the parliamentary robes. An
hour later the queen was carried in her sedan chair also to Westminster.
She wore state robes of velvet, bordered with ermine; on her head was a
diadem of gold, richly studded with precious stones. The procession
was much smaller than that attending any previous coronation had been,
because so many of the lords and ladies refused to be present.

As soon as the usual ceremonies were completed, Dr. Burnet, who had been
created Bishop of Salisbury, preached the sermon; then the Bishop
of London administered the oath, and anointed both sovereigns. The
Archbishop of Canterbury had refused to crown either William or Mary, so
that office also was performed by the Bishop of London.

The banquet was given at Westminster Hall; but every- {375}thing had
gone so slowly that it was almost dark before the challenger entered.
This was Dymoke, son of the champion of James II. As he flung his
gauntlet upon the ground an old woman hobbled out from among the crowd
that stood to witness the feast, and replaced it with a lady's glove, in
which was an answer to the challenge, the time and place being appointed
in Hyde Park. From two till four the next day a large man was seen to
pace up and down the appointed spot; but Dymoke did not appear, and the
champion of James II., whoever he was, went on his way unharmed.

King William attended parliament both before and after his coronation;
but never did Queen Mary accompany him or have any voice in the
government whatever.

After James II.'s defeat in Ireland, the Dutch ambassador arrived in
England to congratulate the king and queen on their accession, when
rewards and honors were distributed very freely, especially on those who
held positions in the household of either Mary or Anne. Lord Churchill
received the title of Earl of Marlborough, and henceforth Anne's
confidential friend will be known by the name of Lady Marlborough.

Now Princess Anne's displeasure was aroused because she failed to see
any gain that had accrued to her from the revolution. While others had
attained wealth and station, she had heard a rumor that King William had
expressed his astonishment at her having a revenue of thirty thousand
pounds per annum, and wondered how she could possibly spend it. This
alarmed her, particularly as she had been promised an additional sum
by her brother-in-law, which she soon saw there was no probability of
getting. King William carried economy to such an excess that he objected
to Anne's having separate meals for her branch of the family; but his
manners at table were so disagreeable {376}that no lady cared to be
present when he ate. He was unpolished in every action, selfish, vulgar,
and ill-natured in the extreme. One day a dish of early green peas was
placed in front of Anne; they were the first of the season, and looked
particularly inviting; but a look was all she got of them, for the king
took possession of the dish and devoured the entire contents.

William was inhospitable, too, excepting to his own countrymen. When
he dined at St. James's Palace, Marshal Schomberg, the general of the
foreign troops, sat at his right hand, and some Dutch officers occupied
other places at the table; but if any English nobleman came in William
neither spoke to them nor invited them to sit down and eat, which common
courtesy demanded. This was very galling, for it humbled the English and
placed the Dutch in the position of their conquerors.

The Earl of Marlborough had an aid-de-camp named Dillon, who was
intimate with Arnold von Keppel, a favorite page of King William. These
boys were usually present at the royal dinners. One day Dillon said:
"I have never heard your master utter a word to anybody; does he ever
speak?"

"Oh, yes," replied von Keppel, "he talks fast enough at night over his
bottle of Holland gin, when he has only his Dutch friends about him."

When Lady Marlborough questioned the young Dillon as to what he saw and
heard at the king's table, he replied "That no man was ever treated with
such neglect and contempt as Lord Marlborough was.

"It is just what he deserves," replied the gracious dame; "he should
have considered how much better he was off some months ago." This shows
that Anne's favorite was not very friendly to King William at that time.

Dillon told her besides that he heard the king say "that Lord
Marlborough had the best talents for war of any one {377}in England; but
he was a vile man, and though he had himself profited by his treason he
abhorred the traitor."

This may have been merely a bit of gossip; but William placed the earl
in command of English troops, which he sent to Holland to fill the place
of the Dutch forces he thought fit to retain near him in case of need.

While Marlborough was absent his wife busied herself with Princess Anne
to get possession of the best suite of apartments at Whitehall. The
queen wanted them, and a regular dispute arose between the two sisters,
which might have gone on indefinitely had not William settled the matter
in favor of Anne, to whom he felt he must yield something for peace
sake. She retained her palace of the Cockpit also, and demanded the one
at Richmond; but that passed into the possession of Madame Puissars, one
of the daughters of Lady Villiers, and she would not relinquish it.

From that hour the royal sisters were at enmity with each other, though
for a time they kept up an appearance of cordiality

On the very evening that a report was brought to William and Mary of the
death of James II. in Ireland they attended the theatre; but it happened
the play contained so many allusions to various actions of their
majesties relating to their accession and the treachery that preceded
it, that they were both rendered excessively uncomfortable, particularly
as each time the whole audience turned and looked straight at them.
After that the master of the court amusements was ordered to be very
careful what plays were produced.

Several of Shakespeare's were prohibited, but particularly King Lear,
which is not surprising. Nevertheless, the whole country blamed Queen
Mary for her indifference to her father's fate, and verses containing
the most scathing {378}satire on her conduct were constantly distributed
at the various coffee-houses.

Princess Anne had a son born during the summer, which was a very joyful
event for all the royal family represented at Hampton Court. They were
pleased, because as the child would be educated in the Reformed faith,
there would be little probability of his being superseded by the Roman
Catholic line of Stuart.

The king and queen stood sponsors for the infant, who was baptized
William, and the same day proclaimed Duke of Gloucester. Mary fondled
her little nephew a great deal, and paid more attention to her sister
than she had done before. But she became dreadfully angry when she
found out that through the instrumentality of Lady Marlborough Anne had
applied to the House of Commons for an income to be settled on herself.
It was perfectly natural that the princess should make this demand,
and it was granted; but Mary accused her of deceit and ingratitude for
acting in such an underhand manner, and asked her in an angry tone:
"What was the meaning of the proceedings in the House of Commons?"

Anne replied: "That she heard her friends there wished she should have a
settled income."

"Friends?" asked the queen, haughtily, "Pray what friends have you but
the king and me?"

Perhaps Queen Mary might not have objected to a provision being made for
her sister, had it not been the decision of parliament that the fifty
thousand pounds they granted Anne should be deducted from King William's
income. But she did not get it, for her brother-in-law managed to
postpone the payment of the money throughout the summer, and Anne became
deeply involved in debt. So much ill-feeling had grown up between her
and her sister in consequence of this pecuniary difficulty that she
resolved {379}to remove from Hampton Court. An excellent excuse offered
itself in the illness of her baby, for he did not thrive for the first
two or three months of his existence, and it was thought change of air
would benefit him. Lord Craven offered his fine house at Kensington for
the prince's nursery; and just before his removal a young Quakeress,
named Mrs. Pack, was engaged to nurse him. Anne was soon gratified by
seeing a decided improvement in her child, who was taken out every day
to get the air in a little carriage drawn by a pair of ponies no larger
than goodsized dogs. These animals were led by Dick Drury, the Prince of
Denmark's coachman.

Meanwhile the Earl of Marlborough returned from Holland, when he and his
wife put their heads together and took such decided steps in favor of
Anne's income that before the end of the year the Commons intimated to
the king the propriety of allowing her fifty thousand pounds.

The Protestant branch of the royal family firmly held the reins of
government in England at last but they were no happier than the exiled
Catholic portion, and dissatisfaction had grown steadily among the
masses.

James II. had left his country free from debt. One year after his
deposition the revenue was minus three millions of pounds. The king had
not spent it all; but dishonesty was the order of the day, and whoever
could obtain a government contract, whether for raising a regiment,
provisioning, or clothing the army in Ireland, or providing ammunition
for the navy, stole more than half the sum they received. They took
advantage of the unsettled state of public affairs to enrich themselves.

Thus the English navy--the pride of the sailor-king, James--sustained
a shameful defeat, and the seamen were perfectly well aware that it was
not lack of skill and bravery on their part that caused it. The soldiers
in Ire land {380}were supplied with bad food and damaged clothing, and
many of them died of disease.

[Illustration: 0386]

James had never permitted the merchant ships to be taxed for the
protection they received from war-vessels; but now the convoy money
reached such an enormous sum that the merchants sent an appeal to
parliament to relieve them of such a dreadful tax. One of the worst
offenders in exacting this extortion was Captain Churchill, brother to
the Earl of Marlborough, and so serious was the charge brought against
him that he {381}was expelled from the House of Commons, of which he was
a member, and deprived of his vessel.

[[A.D. 1690.]] The Duke of Schomberg made serious complaints by letter
to the king, to whom he wrote with regard to Mr. Harbord's regiment:
"I do assure your majesty that the existence of this fine regiment is
limited to its standard, which leans in a corner of his dressing-room,
and that is all that he can show of it. Never, in all my life, did I see
a nation so willing to steal."

William knew that his throne was tottering beneath so much corruption,
and he deserved the misery such knowledge occasioned him. One day he was
discussing his troubles with his favorite, Bentinck, whom he had created
Earl of Portland, and expressed his surprise at the financial condition
of the country..

Portland asked his royal friend, "Whether he believed that there was one
honest man in the whole of Great Britain?"

"Yes, there are many," replied William, with a deep-drawn sigh,
"there are many men of high honor in this country as well as in
others,--perhaps more; but, my Lord Portland, they are not _my_
friends."

The following spring King William meant to join his troops in Ireland,
and purchased Lord Nottingham's estate at Kensington, in order that a
palace might be completed thereon by the time he should return. The
king was a martyr to asthma, and could scarcely breathe in the smoky
atmosphere of London; therefore, he determined to have a home, not too
far off, in a healthful district.

Queen Mary superintended the building of this palace, and displayed
extraordinary taste in the planning of the grounds and the laying out
of the gardens. This occupied a great deal of her time during the
king's absence, but as he left the government in her hands she had other
matters {382}to attend to besides. Nine councillors were appointed to
advise and assist the queen; but Prince George was not of their
number, because he had hired some Danish troops to fight against his
father-in-law, and accompanied the king to Ireland.

[Illustration: 0388]

Queen Mary acted with a great deal of decision, and wrote letters to her
husband every day to keep him informed of everything that transpired.
When a French fleet appeared in the channel she had a large number of
noblemen who were not friendly to her cause arrested. Among these were
her two uncles, who had viewed her conduct with shame and disgust. Her
next step was to banish all Catholics from London and its vicinity. Her
position was really dreadful, for she was surrounded by secret enemies
and people who consulted their own interest above everything else.
The defeat of the navy by the French at {383}Beachy Head was a great
misfortune that would not have befallen the English if their ships had
been kept in proper condition; but there was no one to look out for
them as King James had done. Queen Mary had no confidence in several
candidates who offered themselves for the command, and others whom she
desired to take it had no confidence in themselves for naval service.
This defeat was soon forgotten, however, when news arrived of the
victory of William's army at the Boyne. Without any thought for the fate
of her father, Mary gave herself up to rejoicing over the success of
her husband,--the one subject that filled her mind. She at once began to
urge his return, but William was too good a general not to know that the
contest was not yet decided. Much misery had been caused in Ireland by
the presence of his enormous army, and that wretched country was not yet
to cease groaning under his despotism. When compelled to raise the siege
of Waterford, William was asked how the sick and wounded prisoners were
to be disposed of. "Burn them!" was his wicked command; and this was
only one of the many cruel acts really perpetrated by his troops.

William was anxious to return to England; but, as the victorious French
fleet occupied both the English channel and that of St. George, it was
no safe matter for him to venture past their ships.

Meanwhile, the queen continued her daily letters, and made most humble
apologies to her despotic lord, because his Kensington Palace was not
quite ready for his reception, and still smelt of the fresh paint. She
took all the blame on herself, and expressed her willingness to put
herself to any inconvenience, no matter how great, if only she might
advance his comfort and hasten his return. This wifely devotion would be
all right if William had been a good husband, but he was not, and showed
himself incapable of appreciating the sacrifices offered for his sake.
{384}Queen Mary was sorely perplexed about the command of the navy. Her
father had left it ruler of the seas, but two disastrous defeats that
had overtaken it since her accession had so demoralized the sailors and
destroyed the vessels that none of the old sea-captains could be induced
to contend against the well-appointed fleet of Louis XIV. She proposed
Churchill in one of her letters, but she ought to have recoiled from
placing the man who had extorted convoy money from the merchant ships in
such an important position of trust. At last the French fleet left the
Irish coast, and gave the king a chance to slip over to England, which
he gladly began to prepare for; but first he attempted to besiege
Limerick. Twelve hundred of his soldiers were killed, but the governor
made such a desperate resistance that William raised the siege, and
embarked for England with Prince George of Denmark.

His return had been delayed so much longer than he intended that
Kensington Palace was ready for his reception. After spending a couple
of days at Hampton Court, he went with the queen to their new home,
where they remained throughout the autumn.

Mary possessed unusual ability for governing, as she proved later, when
her husband was carrying on his war in Flanders. As soon as he finished
his Irish campaign, his whole time and attention were directed towards
preparations for his war, which was a great drain on the wealth of Great
Britain, and consequently a source of dissatisfaction to the people.

Lord Marlborough made his first military success in Ireland just after
William had returned from that country, and was warmly thanked for it,
when he presented himself at Kensington, by the king and queen, though
they had not forgiven him for the interest he took in procuring Princess
Anne's income for her.

[A.D. 1691.] {385}At the beginning of the following year the king
embarked for the Hague, leaving the same nine lords to advise and assist
the queen as before. A plot for the restoration of James II. had been
discovered; but that did not detain William after his arrangements were
perfected for the war he was anxious to continue.

The very day after his departure the trial of Lord Preston and Mr.
Ashton began. Both were implicated in this plot, and both had occupied
important positions in the household of King James. Ashton was executed,
but Preston's life was spared in this way: Lady Catherine Graham, a
little girl nine years of age, was his daughter, and loved him very
dearly. During his trial she remained at Windsor Castle, where she had
lived up to that period with her parents. The day after Lord Preston
was condemned the queen found the child in St. George's gallery gazing
earnestly up at a picture of James II. Her mournful expression attracted
the attention of Mary, who asked little Catherine, "What she saw in that
picture that made her look at it so steadily?"

"I was thinking," replied the child, "how hard it is that my father must
die for loving yours."

The queen's conscience was pricked by this answer, and she signed Lord
Preston's pardon.

But she may have had another reason for this good deed, for Preston
could tell all the particulars of the plot, and did so. His evidence
caused the punishment of many of the nobility and clergy, and led to the
imprisonment of the queen's uncle, Lord Clarendon, who remained shut up
in the Tower as long as Mary's regency lasted. Many people were put to
the torture who either had conspired against their majesties or were
suspected of doing so; and Sancroft, the Archbishop of Canterbury,
besides other Church of England clergymen, were deprived of their
positions, {386}because they refused to take the oath of allegiance to
William and Mary.

During these dreadful proceedings King William's life had been in danger
on the coast of Holland, where a dense fog prevented his making land as
soon as he expected. Hearing from some fisherman that he was not more
than a mile and a half from shore, the king resolved to be rowed in his
barge. The Duke of Ormond and some other noblemen accompanied him. In a
few moments the boat was lost in the fog, and could neither approach the
shore nor return to the fleet. Night came on, and the waves dashed over
the king, as he lay in the bottom of the boat covered up with his cloak.
Some one expressed alarm at the situation when William asked sternly,
"What, are you afraid to die with me?" At daybreak the fog had risen,
and the party in the royal barge landed.

The king met with a grand reception at the Hague, for this was his first
appearance there since he had mounted the British throne, and the Dutch
considered that he had made the conquest of Great Britain. They hailed
him "The Conqueror," which was not a pleasant sound to the Englishmen
who had accompanied him.

After a stay of three months William returned to Eng-land for a supply
of money and troops, and arrived just in time to see the Palace of
Whitehall burned to the ground. Queen Mary barely escaped with her life,
for she was a sound sleeper, and had not been aroused until the fire was
well under way in the part of the palace she occupied.

The enmity between Mary and Anne was kept alive by several disagreeable
circumstances, and encouraged by the partisans of each.

We have seen what influence Lord Marlborough and his wife exerted over
the Princess Anne. Their ambition prompted them to prefer a request
through her that the {387}Order of the Garter might be bestowed on the
earl as a reward for his military merit. This was refused by Queen Mary,
and Marlborough was so enraged that he at once set to work to conspire
for the downfall of herself and the king. As he was one of the council
of nine appointed to assist the queen in governing, her position
became dangerous, particularly as Marlborough wrote James II., "That he
regretted his crimes against him, and would bring the Princess Anne back
to her duty at the least word of encouragement."

James's only reply was, "That his good intentions must be proved by
deeds rather than words."

The result was a very dutiful letter written by Anne to her father; but
as Lady Fitzharding acted as a spy for the king, both he and Queen Mary
knew all about the letter long before it reached its destination. It
was written near the end of the year, and shortly after William's return
from Flanders, where some bloody battles had been fought, and a great
number of lives had been lost among the English troops; so his majesty's
temper was not sweetened in the least.

When it was Marlborough's turn to act as gentleman of the bed-chamber
he began his duties, but was soon dismissed, and afterwards received
a message, "that the king and queen desired Lord Marlborough to absent
himself from their presence for the future."

This made Princess Anne very angry; but her anger was changed to alarm,
when she was informed by an anonymous letter that the next step of the
government would be to imprison Lord Marlborough, and added a warning
as to the treachery of Lady Fitzharding. The king and queen brought
no charge; because, if they had dared openly to accuse Marlborough of
trying to effect a reconciliation between Anne and her father, many of
their subjects would have followed his example.

[A.D. 1692.] {388}Shortly after her husband's dismissal, Lady
Marlborough attended Princess Anne to a court reception. The next day
Queen Mary wrote her sister that not only must the lady not appear again
at court, but she must be at once dismissed from her service, because
her presence at the Cockpit gave Lord Marlborough an excuse for
appearing where he was forbidden to come.

Anne wrote her sister a letter full of remonstrance, praising the
virtues of Lady Marlborough, and refusing to part with her. The only
reply she got was an official message from Queen Mary, warning Lord and
Lady Marlborough to remain no longer at the palace.

But Anne was determined not to part with her favorite, so politely
informed the queen rather than do so she herself would depart. She then
applied to the Duchess of Somerset for the loan of her Sion house for
the summer, and received the reply, "that Sion house was entirely at her
service."

King William had requested the Duke of Somerset not to grant the demand
of Princess Anne; and finding that he had not been obeyed, he determined
on a petty revenge, rather unusual with him. He ordered that Anne should
be deprived of the guards that had attended her ever since her father
had allowed her to set up an establishment of her own. This was a
serious matter, because highwaymen infested all the roads in the
vicinity of London, and the princess was really stopped once when
driving out, and robbed of all the jewels and money she had with her.
The king and queen were very much censured for allowing their sister
to go about in such an unprotected state. This was done by means of
placards and circulars; for there were no daily papers in those days for
the expression of public opinion, and, as a rule, they were made out in
rhyme. Sometimes they were set to music and sung about the streets or in
the various coffee-houses. {389}William returned to his Flemish campaign
again in March, and left his wife to govern alone for the third time.
Previous to his departure he had signed the warrant which authorized
the massacre of Glencove. A hundred men, women, and children were
slaughtered in cold blood in this Highland glen; but William was
probably ignorant of the details of this atrocious crime, which cast a
dark shadow over his glory. He may have thought that the intention of
his agents in Scotland was merely to extirpate a band of thieves, but
such was not the case; theirs was an act of outrageous cruelty prompted
by revenge, and William was too much interested in his campaign to pay
much attention to it.

One of Mary's first public acts after her husband's departure was to
review a band of ten thousand men in Hyde Park, who were destined to
defend the capital in case of an invasion from France. Next she sent
Russell, an arrogant, dishonest politician, in charge of the English
navy, to combine with the Dutch fleet in opposition to the French.
It was necessity that compelled the queen to choose Russell for her
admiral: she would have preferred the more able Marlborough; but as he
was now an open enemy, ready at a moment's notice to fly to the side of
King James, that could not be.

Princess Anne was seriously ill a short time after, and the queen went
to see her as soon as she heard of it; but instead of talking kindly to
her sister, and expressing sympathy, she merely sat by her bedside for
a few moments, and then said: "I have made the first step towards
reconciliation by coming to you, and I now hope that you will make
the next by dismissing Lady Marlborough." The remark was certainly
ill-timed, and no doubt the queen regretted it later; but she never told
her sister so, and they remained enemies to the end. Anne's reply, which
{390}was made in a weak, trembling voice on account of her illness,
was: "I have never in my life disobeyed your majesty but in this
one particular, and I hope at some time or other it will appear
as unreasonable to your majesty as it does now to me." Queen Mary
immediately arose and took her departure, but repeated to Prince George,
as he was leading her to her carriage, precisely what she had said
to his wife. An attack of fever followed her sister's visit, and for
several days Anne's life was despaired of, but she recovered at last. No
sooner was her convalescence established, however, than she was thrown
into a dreadful state of distress, because the queen had ordered
Marlborough to be arrested and hurried off to the Tower. The charge
brought against him was that he was in correspondence with the court at
St. Germain; and while the French invasion threatened Mary thought best
to secure herself against his treachery by putting him safely out of the
way.

Princess Anne considered herself a very ill-used sister, and never lost
an opportunity of appearing in the attitude of injured innocence, so she
wrote to Stillingfleet, Bishop of Worcester, and requested him to come
to her. He obeyed, and she showed him a letter she had written her
sister, the queen, in which she requested permission to wait upon her
majesty, but dared not do so without it, because of the displeasure she
had incurred. At the conclusion of the letter the princess added, that
she would not think of returning to the Cockpit to live unless it was
agreeable to her majesty. Anne's reason for sending this submissive
document through the Bishop of Worcester, was that she wanted everybody
to know she had tried to act in a friendly manner towards her sister.

After reading the letter the bishop consented to be the bearer of it,
and the reply he brought back was decided and formal.

{391}

[Illustration: 0397]

{393}The queen stated that she had done all towards a reconciliation
that she meant to do, and that if Princess Anne would not consent to the
dismissal of Lady Marlborough she need not trouble herself to come to
court; for she would not be received.

Knowing that in the circumstances a residence at the Cockpit would
be anything but agreeable, Anne retained it only for those of her
attendants who were not obnoxious to the government, and leased Berkeley
House for herself. Then she wrote to Lady Marlborough, who was with
her husband, and related all that had happened, closing her letter with
assurances of undying devotion and a desire soon to be reunited.

The battle of La Hogue was so decided a success for the English navy
that it restored some of its lost credit. Queen Mary was well pleased
with the valor of her sailors, and sent thirty thousand pounds in gold
to be distributed among them, and a gold medal to each of the officers.
But she deserves credit for a still worthier deed; she ordered the
unfinished palace of Greenwich to be fitted up for the wounded seamen,
and every possible care to be taken of them.

After the victory of La Hogue the queen made an effort to keep alive the
popular enthusiasm by receiving addresses of congratulation, dressed in
her regal robes, and by reviewing the militia and artillery companies in
person. But she was at the same time guilty of several acts of tyranny
in causing the death of those whom the jury had failed to convict.

She kept Lord Marlborough shut up in the Tower as long as possible, and
only released him at last on bail. Meanwhile, Princess Anne was deprived
of the society of her favorites, but she frequently wrote to Lady
Marlborough, and referred to the king as "Caliban," or "that Dutch
{394}monster"; she sometimes mentioned her little son, the Duke of
Gloucester, and said that she patiently awaited the bright day when he
should arrive at man's estate, so that England might flourish again.

In order to rid the metropolis of burglars, and the neighboring roads
of highwaymen, Queen Mary issued a proclamation offering forty pounds a
head for such offenders. This led to the execution of an enormous number
of people without remedying the evil, and the reward thus obtained
was called "blood-money." Queen Mary's order was meant to benefit her
subjects, but it proved a serious evil, for the prisons were soon filled
to overflowing, and the jailers and thief-catchers played into each
other's hands, and often punished innocent people for the sake of the
"blood-money." They managed in this way: One of the villains would
pretend to be a professional robber, and entice a couple of youths or
dishonestly inclined men to join him in waylaying and robbing a certain
party. That party would of course be a confederate, who would follow
up the dupes, trace the stolen property with the assistance of the
originator of the crime, and by that means cause two arrests and
executions, for which the human fiends would receive eighty pounds. Then
the chiefs engaged in the plot would meet and divide the spoils at an
entertainment to which they gave the name of "the blood-feast."

The executions under this system amounted to as many as forty a month in
the city of London alone. Another evil which exists to this very day
is to be traced to William and Mary's reign; it is the establishment of
gin-shops. William gave encouragement to the manufactories of spirituous
liquors, the imbibing of which is the source of most of the crime and
sorrow of the world, and any one who has noticed the number of gin-shops
in London, and the drinking saloons in other cities, can scarcely
be blind to the evil they tend to promote. {395}Before King William
returned to England again much blood had been shed, and the wealth of
both France and Great Britain was nearly exhausted. When Louis XIV. was
discussing the probable termination of the war he said: "Ah, the last
guinea will carry the victory." He was right, for the people of both
countries were heavily taxed, and it was only a question who should hold
out longer with their guineas.

Whenever the king was with her, Mary abandoned all government cares,
and took to needlework, in which she was imitated by her ladies. Her
favorite occupation in this line was the making of knotted fringe of
white flax-thread, that no doubt closely resembled the macrame lace of
the present day. The Dutch ladies knitted, and even took their work to
church, and kept their fingers employed while listening to a sermon.

[[A.D. 1693.]] King William's return from Flanders was celebrated by a
grand thanksgiving dinner at Guildhall, and another at the armory of the
Tower, where their majesties dined in state, and were waited on by the
master architects and workmen in masonic aprons and regalia. It was the
king's policy to gain favor with his English subjects, because he had
only come among them for more supplies, and was off again within four
months, to remain until towards the end of the year.

During that interval Queen Mary's navy met with two disastrous defeats,
and the king had lost the hard-fought, bloody battle of Landen in
Flanders. The people of England were groaning under the weight of heavy
taxation, and general dissatisfaction with the government was openly
expressed. There had been several dishonest prime ministers; but
previous to his departure the king appointed Charles Talbot, Earl of
Shrewsbury, to that important position.

We have not said anything about the little Duke of {396}Gloucester for a
long time; but it must not, therefore, be supposed that he was forgotten
either by his mother or his royal aunt. He lived at Campden House, and
was taken daily to visit the queen whenever she was at Kensington.

[[A.D. 1694.]] Princess Anne was very desirous that her son should be
made a Knight of the Garter; but her relations with the queen were such
that she dared not ask it. However, she sent the prince to visit her
majesty one day with a broad blue ribbon passed over his shoulder and
fastened down on the left side as a reminder. No notice was taken of
it; but the child had evidently been taught that something was to be
accorded him in connection with the ribbon, for when the queen offered
him a brilliantly- bird, he looked very sober, and said, "He
would not rob her majesty of it."

When he had attained his fifth year, the prince's mother thought it
high time that he should be put into masculine attire, and consulted
her husband about it, saying that the clothing he was wearing interfered
with his military amusements. An order was accordingly given to Lady
Fitzhard-ing, who procured for the child a suit of white cloth with
silver loops and buttons, and a periwig. Under his waistcoat he wore a
stiff corset that hurt him dreadfully. His tailor, Mr. Hughes, was sent
for to remedy the trouble, and when he appeared at Campden House he was
surprised to find himself surrounded by a score of mimic soldiers,--the
little prince having summoned his regiment to punish the man who had
caused him pain. There is no telling how far the little urchins would
have gone, for they were beating and mauling Mr. Hughes at a great rate,
when Lewis Jenkins, the usher, appeared to inquire into the cause of
the racket. An explanation followed, and, upon the tailor's giving
a faithful promise that he would alter the stays to fit his little
highness, he was released. {397}One day the little regiment was busily
drilling in Kensington Gardens, while the king and queen watched their
movements with a great deal of interest. Suddenly the Duke of Gloucester
approached his uncle, and gravely offered himself and his whole troop
for the Flemish war. Then turning to Queen Mary, he added: "My mamma
once had guards as well as you; why has she not now?" Her majesty
 and looked surprised, while the king offered the drummer of the
regiment two guineas as a reward for the noise he could make; whereupon
the little fellow drowned any further awkward questioning. Of course,
Queen Mary knew very well that the prince could not remember when his
mother's guard had been dismissed, therefore all the knowledge he had of
it was what he had heard from his parents.

The Duke of Gloucester's soldiers were often a nuisance to the
neighborhood; for on their way home after drill they would enter houses
on the road to London, and help themselves to any dainty bit of food the
larder happened to contain. This they did in imitation of the soldiers
quartered in the vicinity of London, and felt especially privileged
as "Gloucester's men." Like most people who ape others, it was the bad
qualities these little boys selected.

Next time King William returned from Flanders he found the bribery and
corruption in his government just as bad as ever, and the new prime
minister worse than the old ones had been. Parliament was opened, and
charges of the gravest character were brought even against the queen's
immediate attendants, in some of whom she reposed the utmost confidence.
This was a source of great trouble to Queen Mary, and in the midst of it
Archbishop Tillotson fell dead in the pulpit one Sunday while performing
the service.

Christmas was approaching, and the royal pair decided {398}to spend it
quietly at Kensington Palace. By the twentieth of December the queen was
so ill that she must have had some doubts as to her recovery, for she
sat up at her secretary the whole night examining and burning papers
that she desired nobody to see. Perhaps this occupation aggravated
her illness, for she grew worse, and two days later was considered in
danger. Princess Anne sent to ask permission to wait on her majesty. The
message was delivered to the first lady-in-waiting, who went into the
bed-chamber where the queen lay, and in a few moments returned with the
message, "That the king would send an answer the next day."

But the only message received by the Princess Anne was a request to
postpone her visit, because it was necessary to keep the queen as quiet
as possible. The king was so distressed at his wife's danger that he had
his camp-bed removed to her room, and remained with her night and day.

At last Archbishop Tennison, who had replaced Tillotson, informed the
queen that her end was drawing near. She was not at all surprised, and
said, "That she thanked God she had left nothing to the last hour; she
had then nothing to do but to look up to God and submit to His will."

Then the last rites of the church were administered; but the queen did
not die until the twenty-eighth of December, in the sixth year of her
reign, and the thirty-third of her age. Not a word had the dead woman
left for the sister with whom she had quarrelled; not an expression of
sorrow or regret for the father whom she had injured.

All the members of the House of Commons marched in the funeral
procession, and Queen Mary was interred at Westminster Abbey.

Queen Mary had desired to convert Greenwich Palace {399}into a retreat
for seamen, which work she had begun after the battle of La Hogue, as
we have seen. After her death King William reproached himself for having
neglected her wishes in this respect. He lost no time in ordering a plan
which was supplied by the well-known architect, Christopher Wren, and
soon a magnificent building arose in place of the one that had been
burned down. The king did not live to see the completion of this asylum,
otherwise a statue of the real foundress would have graced the court.
However, the building itself is a noble monument to the memory of Queen
Mary II. {400}




CHAPTER XII. ANNE, QUEEN-REGNANT OF GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND.

(A.D. 1694-1714.)

|We have already heard a great deal about Anne, because up to the death
of her sister, Queen Mary, their lives are so closely connected that
it is impossible to understand some of the incidents without mentioning
both sisters. The death of Mary brought Princess Anne more into public
notice as heir presumptive to the throne, though it was many years
before she became Queen of England. Heretofore, as we have seen, she
lived like a private person at Berkeley House, and had not even been
permitted to appear at court, because of the ill-feeling that existed
between her and her sister Mary. Lord and Lady Marlborough, whose
devotion to Princess Anne had seriously offended the queen, still
continued her warm friends, and the princess wrote letters to her father
filled with professions of loyalty and affection as before. King James
did not attach much importance to them; but how could he, poor man,
after the sad experience he had had. He knew perfectly well that his
daughter merely consulted her own interest whether she appeared in the
light of his friend or his enemy; for never was a father worse treated
than poor James had been by both his daughters.

The Duke of Gloucester was with his mother when Queen Mary's death was
announced, and his attendants were surprised at the indifference he
manifested. He had been fond of his royal aunt; but as he was only five
years

{401}

[Illustration: 0407]

{403}of age, he could not comprehend the full significance of death, and
like most children, was more interested in those people and objects that
immediately surrounded him. It was otherwise with his mother, for she
and her sister had loved each other devotedly in early years; and when
the grave closed over Queen Mary's body, all enmity was forgotten, and
Princess Anne could only remember that a once fondly loved relative was
irrevocably lost. The old affection returned, and she wept bitter tears.
The memory of her sister made her heart warm towards King William, whom
she had thoroughly detested for several years. Perhaps his desperate
grief touched her, for he shut himself up in Kensington Palace and gave
vent to the most agonizing sobs. Those who knew him best were surprised
that a man of his disposition could take sorrow so to heart; but he had
lost a devoted wife and friend,--one who had sought to place him in the
foremost ranks on every occasion, and to gain for him the credit and
praise that was really due to her own superior talent for ruling.
William III. was well aware of this, and of the fact that henceforth his
hold on the crown was by no means secure. His only right to his lofty
position was through his wife, and now that she was removed might not
a breath deprive him of it? While the war lasted he was compelled to
absent himself from England nearly half the year. Hitherto Queen Mary
had supplied his place, who was to do so now? His position seemed
difficult and dangerous. One day, when he was sitting alone with his
head bowed down in grief, Lord Somers entered the room. The king took no
notice of him whatever. After waiting a few moments, Somers approached
and stated the cause of his intrusion, which was a proposition he
desired to make that the hostility of the court towards Princess Anne
should terminate.

"My lord, do as you please; I can think of no business," was the reply
of the sorrow-stricken king. {404}Lord Somers chose to construe this
undecided answer into consent, and so set to work to negotiate a
reconciliation through Lord Sunderland, by whose advice Princess Anne
was induced to write the following letter to the king:--

_Sir,--I beg your majesty's favorable acceptance of my sincere and
hearty sorrow for your great affliction in the loss of the queen. And I
do assure your majesty I am as sensibly touched with this sad
misfortune as if I had never been so unhappy as to have fallen into her
displeasure._

_It is my earnest desire your majesty would give me leave to wait upon
you as soon as it can be without inconvenience to yourself, and without
danger of increasing your affliction, that I may have the opportunity
myself, not only of repeating this, but assuring your majesty of my
real intentions to omit no occasion of giving you constant proofs of my
sincere respect and concern for your person and interest, as becomes,
sir,_

_Your majesty's affectionate sister and servant, Anne._

The princess must have felt her welfare at stake as well as that of her
son; otherwise she could not have been induced to write so dutiful a
letter to the brother-in-law who had treated her so unkindly for many
years. It was Archbishop Tennison who took it upon himself to deliver
the letter, and at the same time to say all he could in praise of the
disinterested conduct of the princess during the period when she was
debarred from appearing at court. King William knew better, but gave the
archbishop credit for honesty, and concluded that he might with safety
trust to the fidelity of Anne now, because her interest was closely
linked with his own. He therefore sent her some of the late queen's
jewels, in token of reconciliation, and appointed an interview at
Kensington Palace.

Anne was in such a dreadful state of health, and so puffed up with
dropsy, that she had to be carried to the presence-chamber in a chair.
Both she and the king were affected to tears when they met, and after
a few remarks they retired to a private room, where they conversed for
{405}nearly three-quarters of an hour. The details of that interview are
not known; but it is certain that the royal brother and sister-in-law
agreed to combine all their interests against James II. and his son, and
William further consented to an amnesty with the Earl of Marlborough,
for whom he felt supreme contempt.

[Illustration: 0411]

When Bentinck was consulted as to his opinion of the reconciliation, he
warned the king against putting any trust in the professions of either
Marlborough or the princess; but he had withdrawn himself from the side
of his once beloved master for some mysterious reason, and another
was required to take his place, so in course of time we shall find
the much-despised earl courted and honored by King William. {406}The
reconciliation between Anne and the king had not been effected too soon,
for the Jacobites began to agitate the question whether the princess was
not the real Queen of Great Britain, and Ireland; and those provinces
that were not kept in subjection by the dread of a standing army were
prepared to rebel against a foreign king, who held his position merely
by permission of parliament. These were all prepared to support Anne,
with the hope that once placed upon the throne she would not hesitate
to resign in favor of her father and brother, because her friendly
correspondence with the former was known. Many important arrests were
made, and many agitators escaped from the kingdom. Anne continued
writing to her father, and made promises that she had no idea of
fulfilling; but he was not deceived, though he deeply deplored the
alliance she had formed for the second time with his enemy.

When William returned to Flanders he left no power in the hands of
Anne whatever, but the council of nine took entire charge of government
affairs, and the Archbishop of Canterbury was one of their number.

King William's reign, contrary to the expectation of all the statesmen
of Europe, was decidedly more prosperous and more tranquil after Queen
Mary's death than it had been during her life.

In course of time Princess Anne's health improved, and she became a
great huntress. This exercise was begun for the cure of gout and dropsy,
but was continued on account of the pleasure the princess derived from
it. She was too fat to hunt on horseback, but went in a sort of sedan
chair, hung between two very high wheels, and drawn by one horse. How
the stag was ever brought down when hunted from such an equipage is a
mystery that experienced sportsmen may be able to solve. {407}The
young Duke of Gloucester still lived at Campden House, because it was
considered a healthful spot, and his health was so delicate that it was
feared he might die if not carefully watched. He had a disease called
water on the brain, which made his head larger than it ought to have
been, and often threatened to prostrate him. There were times when he
could not bear to go up or down stairs without having a person to hold
him on either side. This fancy was indulged for a time, but at last
it was attributed to cowardice, for there was no one sufficiently
well-informed as to the nature of his disease to suspect that he felt
dizzy. His mother once shut herself up in a room with him for an hour
to try and reason him out of being led about, as he was then past five
years of age, but he obstinately refused to stir alone until he was
whipped again and again. The fact of a child of his vivacity fearing to
go up and down stairs without assistance ought to have been sufficient
evidence that something was wrong with him; but after the whipping,
which certainly ought not to have been administered to a person
suffering from any disease of the brain, the young prince dispensed with
support, though his head must often have ached and felt very confused.
Prince George of Denmark was particularly anxious that no infirmity
should be observed in his son, because he could not bear to have him
held up to ridicule by the scribblers, who considered no calamity sacred
from the merciless attacks of their pens. The brutal articles that
appeared daily against the "the young pretender" prompted him to shield
his son from similar ones by the opposite party. That was all very well;
but disease cannot be whipped out of anybody, and so the prince was
encouraged to fight against his malady until he became very ill. Doctor
Radcliffe was summoned from Oxford, and did all he could for the little
sufferer, who had a fever which kept him in bed {408}two whole weeks.
But he was not permitted to be quiet, for his small soldiers were
constantly at his bedside blowing their trumpets, beating drums,
building toy fortifications, and making a great deal more noise most of
the time than was good for the invalid. The old nurse of Princess
Anne sent the sick boy a large doll dressed as a warrior by one of his
attendants named Wetherby. This present occasioned much indignation
among the young soldiers, because it was full six months since any of
them had condescended to play with toys of so effeminate a nature,
and sentence of destruction was immediately pronounced on the doll. No
sooner was it carried into effect than it was decided that the messenger
ought to receive punishment, too.

[[A.D. 1695.]] But Wetherby knew what a rough lot of boys surrounded the
prince, and, taking warning by the treatment the doll had received
at their hands, hastened down Campden-Hill and hid himself. In the
afternoon the unfortunate fellow was discovered and captured,--four
grown men having been pressed into the service,--and locked up all
night. The next morning he was brought before the Duke of Gloucester,
who pronounced his sentence. Wetherby was forthwith bound, hand and
foot, mounted on a large hobby-horse and soused all over with water from
large syringes. This was all done for the amusement of the duke; and as
Wetherby had taken part on various occasions in playing similar jokes
on the men who assisted the boys, they showed him no mercy now. When the
poor prisoner was half-drowned, he was drawn into the presence of the
invalid, who enjoyed immensely his woeful plight.

The following summer change of air was strongly recommended for the
royal boy by Dr. Radcliffe, and, after seeking accommodation at
several watering-places, the Princess {409}Anne decided to take him to
Twickenham. There she was offered three adjoining houses which belonged
to Mrs. Davies, a gentlewoman more than eighty years of age, who had
belonged to the court of Charles I. This lady was bright, cheerful,
healthy, and excessively pious. She was simple in her habits, and had
lived on fruit and herbs nearly all her life. She was well-born and
rich, and owned a large estate, on which were planted a number of fine
fruit trees. Her cherries, which were just ripe when the princess went
to Twickenham, were the finest in all the country around; and the old
lady gave the people of the royal household full permission to gather as
many as they chose, providing that they would not injure her trees, of
which she was very proud.

At the end of a month Princess Anne ordered her treasurer to hand Mrs.
Davies a hundred guineas for rent and the trouble her people had given;
but the aged hostess positively refused to accept a farthing, and when
pressed to receive the money, she indignantly arose, and, letting the
gold-pieces that had been placed in her lap, roll all over the floor,
quietly walked out of the room. The princess was astonished at such
generosity, and declared that, although it would have been a pleasure to
her to reward the old lady to the utmost of her power, her feelings must
not be hurt by a further offer of money.

The little Duke of Gloucester formed such a warm attachment for Mrs.
Davies that he loved to nestle in her lap and confide to her all his
secret woes. His younger and fairer associates, who lavished flattery
and attention on him, were not half so attractive as the honest dame,
who, having nothing to gain or lose, always told him the truth. The
royal boy's religious education had not been neglected; prayers had been
read to him twice every day by his chaplain; but he never knew what they
meant, {410}nobody had taken the trouble to explain them; and he had
naturally paid little attention to what he had failed to understand.
Mrs. Davies soon comprehended where the difficulty lay; and it was from
her lips that the duke learned the Lord's Prayer, the Creed, the
Ten Commandments, and several hymns, all of which were carefully and
patiently explained until they were made clear to his infant mind.

One Sunday, when the princess was preparing to go to church, her son
asked if he might accompany her. She was surprised, because he had never
made such a request before, but gave permission. Then the little Duke of
Gloucester ran to inform his governess, Lady Fitzharding, who asked
him if he would say the psalms,--a performance to which he had always
objected.

"I will sing them," proudly replied the boy; thus showing the effect of
his aged friend's instruction.

One day, while the princess was making her toilet, the boy looked up
into her face and asked: "Mamma, why have you two chaplains, and I but
one?"

"Pray," returned the mother, with an amused smile, "what do you give
your one chaplain?" She merely asked this question to hear what sort
of a reply her son would make, and to find out whether he knew that the
chaplains of the royal household received no pay.

The little duke looked at her earnestly for a moment, and then said:
"Mamma, I give him his liberty!"

The princess laughed heartily at the little boy's unconscious repartee.

On his return to Campden House the Duke of Gloucester found his soldier
company posted as sentinels on guard, and they received their commander
with presented arms and all the honors of war. After that the daily
drill took place regularly on an open plain, called Wormwood Common.
{411}One morning the duke fell with a pistol in his hand, and hurt
his forehead against it. The wound was still bleeding when he reached
Campden House, and the ladies began to pity him; but he put on a bold
air and told them "that a bullet had grazed his forehead, but that as a
soldier he could not cry when wounded."

There was so much ceremony observed among the royal attendants all the
time that Mr. Tratt, the tutor, considered it an infringement of his
rights when Jenkins, the Welsh usher, undertook to give the Duke of
Gloucester his first lessons in fencing and mathematics.

The child ran to his mother every time he learned anything new to make
a display of his knowledge; but Jenkins was told to "mind his own
business" by those who considered that he ought to be otherwise
employed. Lady Fitz-harding, in particular, found great fault with his
filling the duke's head with such "stuff" as mathematics, and seemed
to regard the figures drawn in geometry some sort of magic-signs that
savored of witchcraft. But her husband eased her mind by assuring her
that Lewis Jenkins "was a good youth, who had read much, but meant no
harm." The princess ordered Lord Fitzharding to hinder Jenkins from
teaching her son anything, because he might get wrong ideas, that it
would be hard to correct when he began to study according to the regular
method.

Shortly after she saw the duke fencing with a wooden sword, and
defending himself against the attack of an imaginary foe. "I thought I
forbade your people to fence with you," observed her royal highness.

"Oh yes, mamma," replied the child; "but I hope you will give them leave
to defend themselves when I attack them."

He never tired of hearing tales from ancient history, and could recite
many exploits of the heroes, much to the disgust {412}of the tutor, who
knew that the knowledge had not been imparted by him.

On the return of her brother-in-law in the autumn, Princess Anne wrote
him a letter of congratulation on his conquest of Namur. The one she
wrote after the death of the queen had resulted so favorably to herself
that she expected equally pleasant effects from the present one; but she
soon found her mistake, for the king had come home in a bad humor, and
treated her letter with silent contempt. Perhaps congratulations seemed
out of place when he remembered that the lives of twelve thousand men
had paid the cost of his victory, besides an enormous sum of money.

A few weeks later he made a state visit to Campden House, when the duke
received him with military honors. The king was very much amused, and
asked the child "whether he had any horses yet."

"Oh yes," replied he, "I have one live horse and two dead ones."

"You keep dead horses, do you?" asked his majesty. "That is not the way
with soldiers, for they always bury their dead horses."

The little duke was impressed by what his uncle had said, and determined
to be as much like a real soldier as possible; so he summoned his
regiment as soon as the king had departed, and buried his two hobby
horses that he had designated as dead ones. A Shetland pony, no larger
than a Newfoundland dog, was his riding animal.

During the king's absence Princess Anne had received all due honors, as
first royal lady of the realm, and this gratified her ambition entirely;
but when his majesty thought fit to confer upon his favorite, Bentinck,
and his heirs forever, all the rights of the Princess of Wales, not
only was Anne justly indignant at seeing her son deprived {413}of
his privileges, but the whole country viewed the action with extreme
disfavor, and the House of Commons contested it with great warmth.
William III. was compelled to revoke the grant; but the hard feeling it
had aroused in the mind of Princess Anne remained, and his majesty took
no pains to conciliate her. On the contrary, as soon as he was convinced
that the removal of his wife had not affected his position, he began to
regret the alliance he had formed with his sister-in-law, and treated
her with marked disrespect. He even forbade the members of the clergy
to bow before her previous to beginning their sermons, according to the
custom in the Church of England at that time. To be sure, the Dean
of Canterbury and the rector of St. James's Church did not pay the
slightest attention to the prohibition, and the princess always returned
their salute with marked civility.

King William had become dreadfully irritable since the death of his
wife. We know that he was naturally surly and ill-natured; but his
fondness for Holland gin excited him to such a degree that he would cane
his inferior servants if they chanced to neglect even the most trifling
duty. The way they tried to dodge his majesty when he was in an
unusually fractious mood was amusing, and the members of the royal
household called those who were obliged to submit to the blows "King
William's Knights of the Cane."

A French servant, who had charge of his majesty's guns, and who attended
him in his shooting excursions in the Hampden Court park, forgot one
day to provide himself with shot, although it was his duty to load the
fowling-piece. He did not dare to acknowledge his neglect, but kept
charging the gun with powder only, and every time the king fired would
exclaim, "I did never,--no, never, see his majesty miss before." Thus
are petty tyrants invariably deceived.

[[A.D. 1696.]]

{414}

[Illustration: 0420]

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 {415}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 {416}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 {417}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 {418}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," {419}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, {420}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, {421}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 {422}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 {423}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 {424}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, {425}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! {426}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."

{427}

[Illustration: 0433]

{429}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, {430}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, {431}"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 {432}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-

{433}

[Illustration: 0439]

tion {435}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, {436}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.
{437}




CHAPTER XIII.

|Bishop Burnet had watched at Kensington with a host of other clergymen
and lords for the king's last gasp, and then hastened to St. James's
Palace to be the first to prostrate himself before the new queen. But he
was disappointed; for the Earl of Essex, lord of the bedchamber, whose
duty it really was to communicate the news, had forestalled him. Burnet
had never been popular with Anne, and on her accession he was treated
with marked indifference, and turned out of his lodgings at court.

[[A.D. 1702.]] All was business and bustle on that Sunday that
witnessed the death of William III. The queen was receiving the crowd of
politicians that filled her antechamber, anxious for a private audience
before her recognition by the privy council took place.

Among others, the queen's old uncle, the Earl of Clarendon, sent in his
name and requested "admittance to his niece."

Her majesty's reply was, "That if he was prepared to take the oath of
allegiance to her as sovereign she was willing to receive him."

Queen Anne answered thus because she remembered the nature of her
uncle's former conversations with her, and knew that he had come to
urge her to make way for her brother, the Prince of Wales. His reply
confirmed this, for he said:

"No, I come to talk to my niece; I shall take {438}no other oath than I
have taken." He remained true to this decision to the day of his death.

But Queen Anne had another uncle, who was not quite so loyal to King
James's son; this was Lord Rochester, who had been one of Queen Mary's
ministers of state, and shared with Anne the government of _her_ kingdom
likewise.

Both houses of parliament met and made speeches suitable to the
occasion, then presented addresses of congratulation to the queen on her
accession. She received them with much grace and dignity; and although
she did not say much, everybody was impressed by the remarkable
sweetness of her voice, which possessed a magic charm.

A general mourning was ordered by the privy council for the deceased
king; but as Queen Anne was already wearing black for her father, she
chose purple to distinguish this occasion, and appeared in that color
the day after William III. died.

On the eleventh of March Queen Anne went in solemn state, attended
by Lady Marlborough and two other ladies, to the House of Lords. She
ascended the throne in her royal robes, and made an address that had
been prepared by her ministers, concluding with a promise to do all in
her power for the happiness and prosperity of England. Lord Marlborough
carried the sword of state before her royal highness, who, at the close
of the session, returned with Prince George to St. James's Palace.

The Scotch council was summoned, and Anne was proclaimed by Lord Lyon,
king-at-arms, as Anne I. Queen of Scotland. Then her majesty appointed
April 23 for her coronation; and parliament voted her the same revenue
that had been granted to King William.

There were those who were delighted at the accession of Queen Anne; but
the Dutch colony at Kensington were {439}not of the number. The body of
King William had been embalmed and removed to the prince's chamber at
Westminster, where it lay in state; and the queen, with her husband,
immediately took possession of the royal apartments at Kensington. There
was something repulsive in this, though the room in which the king had
breathed his last remained undisturbed for many years.

After a great deal of discussion it was decided that the interment
of King William's body should take place privately, and April 12, at
midnight, was the time appointed.

The procession started from Kensington, and was headed by an open
chariot with the customary wax effigy seated as though the coffin had
been beneath; but it was only placed there when the procession reached
Westminster.

During the funeral service the body was deposited in Henry VIII.'s
Chapel, and afterwards it was interred in the same vault with Queen Mary
II.

Among her appointments, Queen Anne made the Duke of Devonshire
lord-steward of her household; the Earl of Jersey, lord-chamberlain;
Sir Edward Seymour, comptroller; and Peregrine Bertie, vice-chamberlain.
Prince George was appointed to the high office of commander-in-chief of
all the forces, both by sea and land. Lord Go-dolphin requested that her
majesty would be pleased to reinstate Dr. Radcliffe; but she replied,
"No! Radcliffe shall never send me word again when I am ill that my
ailments are only vapors." Lady Marlborough used her influence to have
Bentinck expelled from his office as keeper of the park at Windsor,
with the least possible delay; for he had never been friendly to either
herself or the queen, and such a chance for revenge could scarcely be
overlooked.

The public mind was soon occupied with the approaching coronation.
Prince George was to take no part in it as {440}sovereign, but in the
previous reign he had been created Duke of Cumberland,--a title that
placed him at the head of the list of peers, and gave him precedence of
them all.

At eleven o'clock on coronation morning the queen was carried in her
sedan chair from St. James's to Westminster Hall, where she rested in
a private room while the heralds marshalled the several classes of
nobility according to their rank. Prince George of Denmark was preceded
by the Archbishop of Canterbury, and the lord keeper of the Great
Seal. He walked just in front of the queen with her state attendants,
garter-king-at-arms, the lord mayor, and the high steward of England.
The queen wore on her head a gold band set with costly gems, and her
train was borne by the Duchess of Somerset, assisted by four young
ladies of the bed-chamber, and the lord chamberlain. But this train must
in some way have been made to hang from her majesty's chair, for she was
suffering so much from gout in her feet that she could not walk in the
procession. These attendants and train-bearers conducted her from the
waiting-room to the grand hall, where she was placed beneath the canopy
near the table, on which were spread the regalia. Lord Carlisle, the
Duke of Devonshire, and the lord high-constable stood in readiness to
distribute the various articles on the table to the persons appointed to
carry them whenever her majesty should give the order. As soon as this,
part of the ceremony was performed, the procession moved on to the
Abbey, the path all the way to the royal platform in the church being
covered with blue cloth, and strewn with evergreens and flowers. A
company of guards lined the walk, consequently the cloth was not tom
to bits to be distributed among the rabble, as had been the case
at previous coronations. From Westminster Hall to the Abbey the
train-bearers were, as before, the Duchess of Somerset,--a personal
friend to the queen, and wife of {441}the nearest relative of the blood
royal then in England,--Lady Elizabeth Seymour, Lady Mary Hyde, and Lady
Mary Pierrepoint, then a girl of thirteen, who later was known in the
literary world as Lady Mary Wortley Montague. The queen was escorted by
Lord Jersey, supported by the Bishops of Durham and Exeter, and guarded
by the late king's favorite, Keppel, Earl of Albemarle, who was still
retained as captain of the royal guard. He was the only member of King
William's Dutch colony who had ever shown civility to the queen, and
she showed her gratitude by continuing him in office. The coronation
ceremony was conducted on the same plan as all the others we have
recorded, therefore it is unnecessary to repeat the details. The ring
used on this occasion was a superb ruby, on which was engraved the cross
of St. George. It was placed on the fourth finger of her majesty's right
hand. The ceremony concluded with the peers, archbishops, and prelates,
headed by the Duke of Cumberland, paying homage to the queen. This was
done by kissing her left cheek, and touching her crown while her pardon
was read, and medals of silver and gold were distributed among the
people. A grand anthem by the choir, accompanied by instrumental music,
followed; then the trumpets sounded, and all the people shouted, "God
save Queen Anne! Long live Queen Anne! May the queen live forever!"

At the banquet in the evening Prince George of Denmark sat at her
majesty's left hand, and care was taken that tables should be provided
for members of the house of commons, who had complained of being
neglected at the coronation banquet of William and Mary. On the whole,
the ceremony was eminently satisfactory from beginning to end, even
to the thieves who stole all the plate used at her majesty's table in
Westminster Hall, as well as the finest of the table linen. Shortly
after her coronation Queen Anne {442}knighted Simon Harcourt, and
appointed him solicitor-general; and her uncle, Lord Rochester, was
chosen for her prime minister. It was with the assistance and advice of
this uncle that Queen Anne performed an act of benevolence that has made
her name venerated in the Church of England ever since. Certain sums of
money that she had a right to claim for every office she conferred in
the church, she applied, instead, towards a fund for increasing the
salaries of some of the inferior members of the clergy who were so
poorly paid that they were scarcely able to live. Originally, the money
so claimed had been for the support of crusades, but later it went to
the crown, and the clergy were taxed for their whole profit of the first
year, and one-tenth of the annual gain forever after. So relieved of
this tax, and with their salaries increased besides, the clergy of the
Church of England had reason to be grateful to their sovereign. This
fund received the name of "Queen Anne's bounty," which it has borne to
the present day.

Throughout Queen Anne's reign there were so many contests that it will
be necessary sometimes to mention the two parties between whom they
occurred, though as little as possible will be said on the subject of
politics, and none of the dry details and intricacies of the various
projects shall be recounted. The two powerful parties to which we refer
were called Whigs and Tories, and probably no one will object to knowing
how they were distinguished.

In the reign of Queen Anne the policy of the Whigs was to keep up a
perpetual war against France, in order to prevent the son of James II.
from claiming his right to the throne of England. They were opposed
to the Church of Rome and equally so to the reformed Catholic or "High
Church" of England. Though the queen was the acknowledged head of the
church, they desired that her power to fill vacancies should be bestowed
on the prime minister.

{443}The Tories, on the other hand, supported the sovereign in her right
to appoint church dignitaries, and were opposed to the so-called "Low
Church" party. They were generally considered Jacobites, and would
gladly have been such if the Prince of Wales had not been a Roman
Catholic.

Now that we have shown the distinction between these two parties, any
future reference to them will be clearly understood.

With Queen Anne fairly established on the throne, Lady Marlborough was
at the very height of her glory, because she still retained unbounded
influence over her majesty, and had a voice in every appointment. She
even gave herself credit for many praiseworthy acts of the queen's,
whether she deserved it or no. For example, she assured her friends that
the command issued by the queen forbidding the sale of places in the
royal household was really her own order, though it was probably no such
thing. This was a French custom that had been introduced into England
with the Restoration, whereby places were purchased of the former
possessor without granting the sovereign any choice in the matter
whatever. A man sold his position to the highest bidder, and felt not
the slightest shame at pocketing the proceeds, nor was any privacy
observed in the proceeding. It was a very injurious practice, and by
no means insured good servants, so whether its abolition was due to the
queen or Lady Marlborough, or both, it was certainly wise.

Shortly after Queen Anne's accession her husband, Prince George, was
attacked with asthma, which had such a bad effect on him that change of
air was recommended, and their majesties started on a tour through the
west of England. Bristol was one of their stopping-places, and while
there Prince George started out one morning, {444}_incognito_, with an
officer for companion, to view the sights. After walking about for an
hour or so, the prince went on the Exchange, and remained there
until all the merchants had left excepting one John Duddlestone, a
corset-maker. This good man stood off and stared at the prince, and then
hesitatingly approached, and with a shy, awkward manner, asked: "Are you,
sir, the husband of our Queen Anne, as folks say you are?"

"Such is, indeed, the fact," replied the prince. "Then," continued John
Duddlestone, "I have seen with great concern that none of the chief
merchants on 'Change have invited your highness home; but it is not for
want of love or loyalty: it is merely because they are afraid to presume
to address so great a man. But _I_ think that the shame to Bristol would
be great indeed if the husband of her majesty the queen were obliged,
for want of hospitality, to dine at an inn; I therefore beg your royal
highness, humble though I am, to accompany me home to dinner and bring
your soldier-officer along. I can offer your highness a good piece of
roast beef, a plum-pudding, and some ale of my wife's own brewing, if
that be good enough."

Prince George was charmed with this original style of invitation, and
accepted it with gratitude, though his dinner had been ordered at
the White Lion. Arriving at his house in Corn street, worthy John
Duddlestone called up from the foot of the stairs, "Wife, wife! put on
a clean apron and come down, for the queen's husband and a
soldier-gentleman have come to dine with us."

Dame Duddlestone soon appeared in a clean, blue check apron, neat calico
frock, and snowy cap, curtseying and smiling as she entered the room,
her full face all aglow with the excitement occasioned by the honor of
such visitors. Her table was soon arranged, and the prince did ample
justice to the meal, well knowing that he could not

{445}

[Illustration: 0451]

{447}please his host and hostess better than by eating heartily of what
they set before him.

"Do you ever go up to London?" he asked in the course of the dinner.

"Oh, yes," answered the host; "I sometimes go there to buy whalebones
for the corsets I manufacture."

When the prince took his leave he gave John Duddlestone a card, and
told him "the next time he went to London to take his wife along, and
to be sure to bring her to court," adding "that if he would present that
card at Windsor Castle it would insure his admission."

Sure enough, when, a few weeks later, a supply of whalebone was needed,
John actually took his good wife behind him on a pack-horse, and
journeyed to London. Armed with the prince's card, he presented himself
at Windsor Castle, was received by Prince George, and with his wife
clinging to his arm, introduced into the presence of Queen Anne. Only
a few words were necessary to recall to her majesty the circumstance
Prince George had related on his return from Bristol. She cordially
thanked the good-hearted couple for their hospitality to her husband,
and, in return, invited them to dine with her, adding that the
court-dresses which were required for the occasion, would be furnished
by the officers of her household; but the visitors were required to
choose their own material. Both selected purple velvet. The suits were
accordingly made, and worn at the royal dinner party, when the queen
presented the Duddlestone pair "as the most loyal persons in the whole
city of Bristol."

After dinner her majesty surprised John Duddlestone by requesting him
to kneel down before her. He obeyed, when taking a sword and laying it
gently on his head, she said: "Stand up, Sir John."

Having knighted him, Queen Anne offered him a government {448}position,
or a sum of money, whichever he preferred, but he refused both, saying:
"Wife and I want nothing, and we have fifty pounds of our savings out
at interest, besides, judging from the number of people about your
majesty's house, your expenses must be heavy enough." This honest reply
pleased the queen so much that she presented the newly-constituted Lady
Duddlestone with the gold watch that hung at her side. This mark of
royal favor so delighted the good dame that whenever she appeared in
the streets of her native town afterwards the watch was sure to be seen
hanging from her blue apron-string.

Although Queen Anne could not forget nor forgive the insulting remarks
about herself that she had heard from the lips of Lady Marlborough, she
did not find it easy to steel her heart against a woman whom she had
loved for thirty years. There is no doubt that she had fully determined
to part with both her and her husband, but meanwhile intended that the
favorite should observe no change. The dearly-beloved "Mrs. Freeman"
should have all the advantages her ambition and avarice had sought, and
after both she and her husband had obtained all they desired of wealth
and title they should be dismissed.

The queen went to St. James's Palace in time to open parliament, leaving
Lady Marlborough at Windsor, because she did not desire her attendance
at the grand state visit to the city. But her majesty wrote "Dear Mrs.
Freeman" in the most caressing terms, and in one of her letters she
said: "It is very sad for your poor, unfortunate, faithful Morley to
think that she has so very little in her power to show you how sensible
she is of all Lord Marlborough's kindness, especially when he deserves
all that a rich crown can give; but since there is nothing else at this
time, I hope you will give me leave, as soon as he comes, to make him a
duke." {449}Lady Marlborough was not so pleased at this proposition as
Queen Anne supposed she would be; the dukedom was all very fine, but
no provision for the support of the title was mentioned, and the
Marlboroughs were by no means rich. The letter dropped from the lady's
hand as though she had read news of a death, but the lord was more
grateful; for the new distinction increased the respect that the
German princes in Flanders entertained for him, and, as he was
commander-in-chief of the allied forces, it was important that he should
be esteemed. He had not yet achieved the military glory that has made
him one of the heroes of history.

Some discussion had been going on between Lady Marlborough and the queen
about the creating of four new peers, because the ministry had resolved
that they should be Tories, and Lady Marlborough objected. At last, by
way of compromise, the queen consented to add Mr. Hervey to the number;
but, as he was a Whig, the newly-made nobles refused to have their names
associated with his, and so the poor queen was in a dilemma. She wrote
the haughty favorite a most humble letter, in which she said: "I cannot
help being extremely concerned that you are so partial to the Whigs,
because I would not have you and your poor, unfortunate, faithful Morley
differ in opinion in the least thing."

There was to be a grand dinner on Lord Mayor's day, which the Queen
and Prince George were to attend, so for the encouragement of her Tory
partizans, her majesty preferred that her favorite should not appear at
her side on that occasion; she therefore concluded the letter we have
referred to above, with this sentence: "Since you have staid so long at
Windsor, I wish now for your own sake that you would stay until after
Lord Mayor's day; for if you are in town you can't avoid going to the
show, and {450}being in the country is a just excuse, and, I think, one
would be glad of any way to avoid so troublesome a business. I am at
this time in great haste, and therefore can say no more to my dear,
_dear_ Mrs. Freeman, but that I am most passionately hers."

The queen had another reason for desiring Lady Marlborough's absence.
It was this: The Duke of Ormond and Sir George Rooke had won a grand
victory at Vigo, and so the Tory party were greatly elated. This enraged
Lady Marlborough to such a degree that there was no telling how far she
might go in giving expression to her displeasure, and she was safer at a
little distance.

Lord Marlborough returned from the continent in November, after having
gained several victories and captured some towns in Flanders. The queen
was so pleased with his success that she showed herself a little too
eager to reward him; therefore when her majesty sent a message to the
house of commons declaring her intention to create Lord Marlborough a
duke, and requesting that a pension of five thousand pounds per annum
might be secured to him and his heirs, it was regarded with disfavor.
After some warm debate, it was decided "that Lord Marlborough's
services, although considerable, had been sufficiently rewarded;" so,
although the title was granted, the revenue was refused. The consequence
was that Lady Marlborough hated the Tories worse than ever, although ten
years before she had belonged to their party.

With the hope of soothing the newly-made duchess, her majesty wrote: "I
cannot be satisfied with myself without doing something towards making
up what has been so maliciously hindered in parliament, and therefore, I
desire, my dear Mrs. Freeman and her husband to be so kind as to accept
of two thousand pounds a year out of my private purse instead of the
five, and this can excite no envy, for nobody need know it." {451}The
angry duchess refused to be pacified, and rejected the queen's offer
with scorn. But this was her regular plan of action to avoid appearing
under obligations to her majesty; she always refused an offer the first
time it was made, but never failed to claim it later. So it was in this
case, for she not only pocketed the two thousand pounds per annum
when she had charge of the queen's privy purse, but demanded, besides,
portions for her daughters to the amount of thirty thousand pounds.
Queen Anne fell completely in the power of the designing duchess, who
constantly abused the Tories to her majesty, and accused her of being
their accomplice. More than half of "_the crowned slave's_" time was
spent in the degrading occupation of soothing the domestic tyrant, who
exacted the most servile attentions, and complained, like a spoiled
child, if she did not get everything she wanted, though this she
generally managed, by hook or by crook.

[[A.D. 1703.]] In the month of December the fleet of Charles of Austria,
who was on his way to take possession of the throne of Spain, appeared
off the west coast of England. The Duke of Somerset was immediately
despatched to Portsmouth to receive the royal stranger, and conduct him
to Windsor, where the queen had gone on purpose to entertain him. But he
was first invited to rest while at the duke's residence on the coast of
Petworth, and there he was met by the prince-consort, who had with great
difficulty, and three or four upsets of his carriage, made the journey
across the bad roads.

The whole party arrived at Windsor at night, and were received by
torchlight. Three noblemen awaited the King of Spain as he alighted from
his coach, and the Earl of Jersey led him up the stairs, at the head
of which he was met by Queen Anne, and conducted to her bed-chamber
according to the etiquette of the times. An hour later a {452}state
supper was served, when the royal guest was placed at the queen's right
hand, while Prince George sat on her left. At the conclusion of the
feast a formal procession conducted King Charles to his sleeping
apartment, where his own attendants awaited him.

The next day Queen Anne returned the call of her guest, who, having been
previously informed of her intention, met her at his drawing-room door
with a profusion of compliments, protesting against the trouble-she took
in coming to him. However, she was not to be outdone in politeness, so
persisted in entering his room, where she spent about fifteen minutes.
Then, at a signal from one of the courtiers, King Charles rose and
conducted her majesty to a grand state dinner. During the progress of
the meal the court was entertained by a vocal and instrumental concert.
Dinner was served at three, and at its conclusion everybody played
cards, basset being the favorite game, until supper was announced, which
closed the hospitalities of the day.

Her majesty had, during the interval between dinner and supper,
presented several ladies of the highest rank to the king, and he had
saluted each with a kiss, which was the privilege of his station. But a
grand act of courtesy was reserved for the royal favorites, the Duke and
the Duchess of Marlborough. To the former, King Charles presented his
sword, saying at the same time, "that he had nothing worthier of his
acceptance, for he was a poor prince, who had little more than his sword
and his mantle." After supper he prevailed on the duchess to give him
the napkin which it was her duty to present to the queen, and he held
it while her majesty washed her hands. On returning it to the Duchess
of Marlborough, the king placed a superb diamond ring on her finger. He
then gave his hand to the queen, and led her to her bed- {453}chamber,
where he took formal leave, and expressed his intention to depart early
the next morning. Prince George meant to escort the royal guest back to
his ship at Portsmouth, but as he was far from well the Duke of Somerset
was appointed to perform that office in his stead; and the Admiral,
Sir George Rooke, was ordered to provide the proper number of ships to
escort him to Spain.

[[A.D. 1704.]] The queen's birthday this year fell on Sunday. She
received the usual compliments, and held a splendid reception on the
following day, after which Dry-den's play, entitled "All for Love, or
Anthony and Cleopatra," was performed before her majesty and the whole
court. This was succeeded on the next evening by the tragedy of Hamlet,
Prince of Denmark, in honor of Prince George. There were various other
entertainments during the week; and we must not omit to say that notices
of them were given in the daily papers, of which there were several in
this reign.

So much dissension arose in parliament, chiefly on account of church
matters, that some of the Tories became disgusted and withdrew from
office. The most important of these were the queen's uncle, Lord
Rochester, the Duke of Buckingham, and Lord Dartmouth. This gave the
Whig party the upper hand, and the Duchess of Marlborough thoroughly
controlled and led them. Prince George was a Whig at heart, though he
managed to keep this fact secret; however, the duchess knew it perfectly
well, and rejoiced at it.

Now we must take a look at Queen Anne to see what sort of a ruler she
made, for thus far we have touched lightly on this important matter,
or given the Duchess of Marlborough the precedence. As far as personal
affection goes, this queen was the most popular one who had occupied the
English throne; the lower classes always {454}called her "our good Queen
Anne," and do so to this very day.

[Illustration: 0460]

It is to be accounted for in this way: In the first place, her parents
were both English, and she herself was in every way like a middle-class
Englishwoman, because of her very limited education. She was a
comfortable sort of a matron, the last of the Stuarts, and by no
means disposed to govern arbitrarily. Then she was, as we have seen,
exceedingly generous to the church, and her reign witnessed a series-of
continental victories. No wonder that the populace called her "good
Queen Anne." Strange to say, although her majesty was never known to
read a book, and passed a large part of her time at card-playing, poetry
and science awakened into new life in her reign, and many of the writers
delighted to sound her praises. She probably did not appreciate
their work, but she patronized men of letters, it may be for love of
approbation. {455}The number of learned men of Queer. Anne's reign
exceeded that of Elizabeth, and represented every branch of art,
science, and literature. It included no Shakespeare, it is true; but
there were Newton, Wren, Locke, Hogarth, Congreve, Colley, Cibber, Pope,
Swift, Gay, Addison, Steele, and a host of others. We must not omit
to mention Defoe, because every child will connect his name with
that delightful romance, "Robinson Crusoe." It was on account of the
existence of such a bevy of luminaries that Queen Anne's reign was
entitled the Augustan age of England.

That reign witnessed the beginning of periodical papers, for there were
three, the "Tattler," "Spectator," and "Guardian," edited by Addison and
Steele.

The "Tattler" contained accounts of the political events of the day,
and was placed on her majesty's breakfast-table, with the hope that she
would occasionally read it, but she is not supposed ever to have
done so. The "Ladies' Diary, or Women's Almanack" was another of the
periodicals published in Queen Anne's reign, that have since become so
numerous. It began by containing articles that are of most interest to
women in general, but is now a mathematical periodical, which women are
not likely to care for.

We have mentioned the continental victories that distinguished this
reign. The most splendid of them all was the battle of Blenheim, news
of which was brought to Windsor Castle in August by Colonel Parkes,
aid-de-camp to his grace, the Duke of Marlborough. This glorious victory
was celebrated with unusual splendor.

What shall we say of the hero of the great victory thus celebrated?
Perhaps Thackeray has given the best description. He says: "Before the
greatest obstacle or the most trival ceremony; before a hundred thousand
men {456}drawn in battalia, or a peasant slaughtered at the door of his
burning hovel; before a carouse of German lords, or a monarch's court,
or a cottage table where his plans were laid, or an enemy's battery
vomiting flame and death, and strewing corpses round about him,--he
was always cold, calm, resolute, like fate. He performed a treason or a
court-bow; he told a falsehood as black as Styx as easily as he paid a
compliment or spoke about the weather. He was as calm at the mouth
of the cannon as at the door of a drawing-room. He would cringe to a
shoe-black or he would flatter a minister or a monarch; be haughty, be
humble, threaten, repent, weep, grasp your hand or stab you whenever
he saw occasion. But yet those of the army who knew him best, and
had suffered most from him, admired him most of all, and had perfect
confidence in him as the first captain of the world."

After the Blenheim victory the enthusiasm for the duke was very great;
even those who hated him and those whom he had cheated were ready to
greet him with frantic cheers.

The queen informed the house of commons that she desired to present the
palace and grounds of Woodstock to the great hero and his heirs forever,
and the act was passed a few weeks later. Her majesty ordered a portrait
in miniature to be painted of the duke, which was sur-rounded by
brilliants valued at eight thousand pounds, and the picture itself
was covered with a diamond instead of glass. This magnificent gift was
presented to the Duchess of Marlborough as a souvenir of the victory of
Blenheim.

It need scarcely be said that while her husband stood so high in the
royal favor, the influence of the Duchess of Marlborough remained
unabated, and she compelled the queen to appoint all her officers of
government from the {457}Whig ranks. When her majesty hesitated, the
upstart tyrant would vulgarly exclaim: "Lord, madam! it _must_ be so!"
Thus she secured for her friend, William Cowper, the high post of keeper
of the Great Seal. The privilege of disposing of the church livings had
belonged to the sovereign, but Lord Keeper Cowper now claimed it, and
subsequently it was taken out of the hands of the crown entirely. The
Church of England was never in greater danger of destruction than during
Queen Anne's reign, because most of the dignitaries had been connected
with some species of dissent. The prince consort was a Dissenter; but,
worst of all, the violent duchess, her majesty's favorite and ruler,
headed a strong band of free-thinkers, who hated the church.

[[A.D. 1705.]] In April her majesty, accompanied by her husband, made
an excursion to Cambridge. She was received by the Duke of Somerset, who
was then chancellor of the university, and attended an exhibition, where
she distributed honorary degrees among the noblemen and gentlemen of
her court. But the most memorable of Queen Anne's actions connected
with this visit was the bestowing of knighthood on Dr. Isaac Newton
at Trinity College. After holding a grand reception, dining at Trinity
Hall, and attending divine service at the beautiful chapel of King's
College, the royal party returned to Newmarket, where her majesty made a
long sojourn.

[[A.D. 1706.]] Another great victory was won at Ramilies by the Duke of
Marlborough, and another splendid thanksgiving procession took place
at St. Paul's to celebrate it. At this period all the great offices
of state were in the hands of the Marlborough family. The last of the
appointments was the result of a serious contest between her majesty and
the duchess, in which the latter came off victorious, as usual. This
was the nomination of her son- {458}in-law, Lord Sunderland, to the
important office of secretary of state. When the queen yielded this
point, the commander-in-chief and the lord treasurer were, one a
son-in-law, the other father of a son-in-law of this ambitious couple.
Their connections filled lucrative posts, besides, their daughters were
ladies of the bed-chamber, and the mother herself, as mistress of the
robes and groom of the stole, governed all the officials and the queen
into the bargain. Never was this creature more insolent than when such
was the state of affairs. She had contrived, by fair means or by foul,
to appropriate the enormous income of ninety thousand pounds of the
public funds, and the poor queen was miserable on account of what she
had been made to suffer at the hands of the woman who was indebted to
her for all she had, and for all she was. When she could no longer
fail to perceive that the affection of her royal mistress had become
estranged, the duchess began to inquire what new favorite had interposed
to create ill feeling; for it was not in the nature of this woman to
blame herself for anything.

She could not fix upon any one until the regular season for the
distribution of the queen's cast-off clothing came around; then Abigail
Hill, her cousin, excited her suspicion. Although the duchess pretended
to act with perfect justice in dividing the old gowns, mantles, and
head-dresses among the bed-chamber women and dressers of her majesty,
they all declared that she invariably kept the best of them for herself.
Seeing that Abigail Hill fared badly in the distribution, the queen made
her some liberal presents, as well as Mrs. Danvers, whose dismissal the
jealous duchess had frequently urged. But this liberality only increased
the squabble over the old clothes, and the duchess declared that they
were all hers by right.

Once when this Mrs. Danvers, one of the bed-chamber {459}women, was so
ill that she believed herself to be dying, she sent for the Duchess of
Marlborough, and implored her to transfer her position with the queen
to her daughter, who would be entirely unprotected after her death. The
duchess declared her inability to do so, because of her being on bad
terms with her majesty. Finding that to be the case, the sick woman told
a long story about Abigail Hill's wickedness and general bad behavior,
and wound up her narrative by informing her visitor that said Abigail
had long been her secret enemy.

Queen Anne may have been desirous of dispensing charities, but the
Duchess of Marlborough held the purse-strings so tightly that she was
unable to do so. When she demanded a small sum of money, that tyrant
would frequently tell her that "it was not fit to squander away money
while so heavy a war lasted," though at that very time vast sums of the
public funds were annually supplied for the building of the duke's
house at Woodstock. A touching case of distress came under her majesty's
notice in the sad fate of Sir Andrew Foster, a gentleman who had spent
most of his life in the service of James II., and who had been ruined by
his adherence to that sovereign. He died of starvation, in a miserable
hut just outside of London, and Queen Anne was so shocked when she heard
it that she determined, as it was too late to relieve the unfortunate
Jacobite, he should at least be decently buried. For this object she was
forced to borrow twenty guineas of Lady Fretchville, for she could
not command so large a sum herself; and yet the Marlboroughs were then
drawing sixty-four thousand pounds per annum from the public purse.
Later the sum reached ninety-four thousand pounds.

[[A.D. 1707.]] The queen carried one extremely important point in
violent opposition to the powerful duchess, and that was the union
between Scotland and England. {460}This measure was passed in both
countries, signed and ratified in great state in the presence of the
Scottish commissioners, the English ministers, and both houses of
parliament. When Queen Anne signed this important ratification she said,
"The union with Scotland is the happiness of my reign."

On the same day, April 24, her majesty dissolved the English house of
commons, and summoned the first united parliament of Great Britain to
meet the following October. The signing of the union was then celebrated
by a grand national festival, and a few days later her majesty went
in solemn procession to St. Paul's Cathedral to return thanks for the
successful completion of this matter.

But it must not be supposed that the union was brought into working
order without a struggle, for in the course of a few weeks Scotland was
almost in a state of open rebellion. It was the queen's policy to
extend mildness and mercy to all offenders, which was a great deal more
effective than shedding blood on the scaffold; for in a very little
while she was universally acknowledged as sovereign of both England and
Scotland.

Sixteen Scottish noblemen represented their country in parliament, and
there was a good deal of jealousy aroused on account of favors shown
them by her majesty. At her accession she had declared, "That her heart
was entirely English," and this sentence was inscribed on some of her
medals, so when she showed partiality to the Scotch an English satirist
wrote:--

                   "The queen has lately lost a part

                   Of her 'entirely English heart,'

                   For want of which by way of botch

                   She pieced it up again with Scotch."

For some reason, not necessary for us to inquire into, the Duke of
Hamilton was denied a seat in parliament; {461}and in order to console
him for the injury, Queen Anne consented to stand godmother in person to
his third son. She gave the child her own name, and from his infancy
he was called "Lord Anne." Some years later Lord Anne Hamilton was
celebrated as a valiant soldier.

To return to the palace dissensions. The Duchess of Marlborough became
at last furiously jealous of Abigail Hill, and probably opposed her
marriage, otherwise it would not have been managed so secretly as it
was. She was engaged to Samuel Masham, a page to the queen, and it
seems a very undignified proceeding for her majesty to have consented to
witness a secret marriage, in a remote part of her palace, between two
people who were not under obligations of duty to any one unless it was
herself. But such was really the arrangement, and only proves that all
parties stood in mortal terror of the duchess's wrath. How long this
union would have remained secret it is impossible to tell, had not the
queen thought proper to dower the bride from her own private purse,
and as soon as she demanded the sum she chose to present, of course the
watchful duchess set to work to find out to what purpose it was to be
put. She had began to suspect that there was a mystery, and it did not
take her more than a week to ferret it out. No sooner were her spies set
on the right track than they made another discovery that was forthwith
reported to the duchess with an accuracy and assiduity worthy of a
better cause. It was this: "That Mrs. Masham spent about two hours every
day with the queen in private, while the prince, who was a confirmed
invalid, took his afternoon nap."

Now did the duchess see, at last, who had forestalled her in her devoted
"Mrs. Morley's" good graces; she only awaited a favorable opportunity to
unbottle the phials of her wrath, and pour them on the heads of both
the offenders. {462}The enormity of the crime shocked her. "I was struck
with astonishment at such an instance of ingratitude," she wrote her
husband, "and should not have believed it had there been any room for
doubt."

In reply to her very exaggerated statement of a trivial affair, the
duke wrote some good advice. His letter was sent from Meldest, in South
Germany, and he said: "The wisest thing is to have to do with as few
people as possible. If you are sure Mrs. Masham speaks of business to
the queen, I should think you might, with some caution, tell her of it,
which would do good, for she certainly must be grateful, and will mind
what you say."

The duchess did not heed this advice of her clear-headed husband,
but kept herself up to a pitch of excitement at what she called the
barbarity, ingratitude, and wickedness of the queen. She accused her,
too, of intrigue, though why the conversations she held with one of her
attendants at the bedside of her declining husband should be so called
it is difficult to understand. Her majesty treated Abigail Masham with
confidence and consideration, because she assisted in the care of the
prince-consort, who suffered from fearful attacks of asthma, and it was
this attendant's duty to sleep at night on a pallet in the ante-chamber
of her majesty's bed-room, within call.

Not long after the duchess discovered the marriage, when she was alone
with the queen one day, she took her to task for having kept it secret,
and told her that it plainly showed a change in her majesty's feeling
towards her. The queen replied, "That it was not _she_ who was changed,
but the duchess," and added, "I believe I have begged Masham a hundred
times to tell you of her marriage, but she would not."

This confession convinced the angry duchess that she had been a subject
of discussion, and she became more indignant {463}than ever to think
that so humble a person as her cousin Abigail should presume to speak
with her majesty about so high and mighty a creature as herself. She
determined to give the young woman a sound rating, but changed her
mind, and wrote her an angry, undignified letter instead. But Sarah
of Marlborough was not particularly well educated, and made as grave
blunders as did her majesty in her attempts at letter-writing. Mrs.
Masham, on the other hand, was a woman of talent, and wrote so well in
reply as not only to astonish her correspondent, but to convince her
that with the pen, at least, she was far her superior, and a person who
could ably defend herself against any attack made on paper. Perhaps
it would have been well had she explained the accident that caused the
queen to overhear the duchess express her loathing and hatred of herself
the day when she had put on the gloves by mistake. Abigail Masham might
have written, "It was your shameful ingratitude, your offensive remarks,
that changed her majesty's heart towards you;" but the secret was not
hers, and there is no evidence of her having betrayed her royal mistress
all the while she served her.

The queen's unwise consent to witness the secret marriage between
Abigail Hill and Samuel Masham was all the proof the Duchess of
Marlborough needed that she had been supplanted in the royal favor, and
from that moment whatever change she observed she laid at the door of
her successor. Some one has very wisely said of Mrs. Masham's turning
her back on the duchess: "She was her near relative, and the defect of
base ingratitude seems to run in her family. The duchess should have
chosen her watch-dog on the queen, when she became too grand or
too indolent to perform that needful office, from a better breed."
{464}Previous to her majesty's removal to Windsor for the summer, a
very odd circumstance occurred, which we will leave the duchess and her
wrangling for awhile to relate. It is about Prince Matveof, ambassador
of Peter the Great of Russia. Having been recalled to Russia, the prince
attended the queen's levee for the purpose of taking formal leave of
her. No sooner had he left the palace than he was arrested for debt on
a writ of Mr. Morton, lace dealer of Covent Garden, and locked up in
the bailiff's house. The noble Russian had fought desperately, without
seeming to understand why he was seized, and wounded several of the
bailiff's men quite seriously. The next day the bill of fifty pounds
was paid, and the matter explained; but, as the prince had not had
the slightest intention of defrauding the tradesman, he was justly
indignant, and left England thoroughly disgusted. When he got home the
czar resented the indignity offered to his ambassador by putting a stop
to intercourse of trade, adding a threat of declaration of war. Queen
Anne entered into an elaborate explanation, and assured the czar that
the insult did not originate from any wrong intended by her or her
ministers, but arose from the rudeness of a tradesman. But his Russian
highness was by no means satisfied, so he wrote a very formidable
document requesting "the high and mighty Princess Anne, Queen of Great
Britain and Ireland, to return him, by bearer, the head of Morton, the
lace dealer of Covent Garden, together with the heads and hands of any
of his aids and abettors in the assault upon Prince Matveof that her
majesty might have incarcerated in her dungeons and prisons."

The queen was perfectly amazed at this demand for the heads and hands of
her subjects, and requested her secretary "to assure the czar that she
had not the disposal of {465}any heads in her kingdom excepting those
forfeited by the infraction of certain laws, which Mr. Morton and his
assistants had not trespassed." The czar either could not, or would not,
understand that Englishmen did not have their heads and hands chopped
off at the caprice of the crown, and an angry correspondence was
continued between the Russian and English governments for two years.
At last a happy idea struck the queen, and she sent Mr. Whitworth, a
gentleman who understood Russian customs, to say, "that although nothing
had been acted against Prince Matveof but what the English law allowed,
yet those laws were very bad and inhospitable ones, and that her majesty
had had them repealed, so that his imperial highness's ambassadors could
never again be subjected to such an injury."

This was no compliment, but a fact; for from that incident laws were
caused to be made that protected ambassadors and their suites from
arrest, which are in force to the present day. Such laws were sadly
needed during Queen Anne's reign to prevent scenes of violence; for
ambassadors took precedence according to the supposed rank of the
sovereigns they represented. This being the case, the representatives
of France and Spain, the two countries that were always at war, had a
regular fight, aided by their retinues, at all public processions; they
even went so far as to cut the traces of each other's coaches, lest the
line should be broken and one dash in before the other. It is needless
to say that the London populace immensely enjoyed such contests, and the
"roughs" invariably gathered where the "mounseers," as they called them,
were most likely to begin the fight. Sometimes they were quite serious,
and more than one man lost his life while combating for position.

{466}




CHAPTER XIV.

|When her majesty opened parliament in the autumn she made the usual
speech containing entreaties that goodwill and friendship might continue
among all ranks of her subjects, but particularly with regard to the
newly-made union. King William III. had said, "That he did not desire
the experiment of a union with Scotland to be made in his reign, because
he had not the good fortune to know what would satisfy a Scotchman."
This would seem to apply equally to Queen Anne, for the Scotch were
excessively dissatisfied and were already getting up petitions for
dissolving the newly-made union, while the English turned up their
noses at their northern neighbors, with whom they had no desire to be
associated in parliament.

Public affairs did not seem to occupy Queen Anne's attention more than
private ones, for the duchess kept her in a constant state of worry with
her threats and her ill-temper; and there was scarcely day when she did
not feel the necessity for sending a letter of explanation and apology
to the tyrant for some imaginary offence, or some omitted honor, either
on her own part or that of Mrs. Masham. There was at this time a matter
of private interest under consideration between her majesty and the
duchess. The latter had long before asked for a part of St. James
Park, on which to build a palace for herself, but as the demand was an
unreasonable one, the queen was {467}less generous and compliant than
she had been on previous occasions. But the duchess had set her heart on
the very spot she had designated, and get it she would at any cost.
So she importuned the poor queen, month after month, and made her
displeasure so seriously felt on account of the refusal, that at last
she gained her point, and the present Marlborough House marks the spot.

The indignation of the London populace was justly aroused, because,
when digging the foundation for her palace, the duchess had caused the
removal of a fine oak tree which had sprung from an acorn that Charles
II. had brought from Boscobel, and planted with his own hands in this
pleasure garden of his queen, Catharine of Braganza.

The Marlborough family were jealous of Robert Harley, ex-speaker of the
house of commons; and when his secretary, William Gregg, was arrested
because he was discovered in traitorous correspondence with the French,
they tried very hard to implicate Harley, too, but did not succeed. The
secretary was hanged, and there was a hue and cry, because it was said
that Queen Anne had sent the prisoner some comforts by her physician,
Arbuthnot; but when the matter came to be sifted, it was found that such
was her majesty's custom, because she was always unwilling to sentence
any one to death; and when obliged to do so tried to alleviate their
sufferings while they were in prison as much as possible.

[[A.D. 1708.]] Angry debates in the queen's cabinet council were of
daily occurrence, and her presence was never a check on the coarseness
and brutality of the officers. A scene of this sort took place one day
when her majesty made an attempt to free herself from the chains of
Marlborough and Lord Godolphin. She told her resolution to Mr. St. John,
and sent a letter through him to the Duke of Marlborough, having first
read it to him, and requested {468}him to tell what she had done about
town. This was obeyed without reserve; and at the next council meeting,
when Harley delivered a paper to her majesty containing some accounts of
the war, the duke and lord-treasurer, Godolphin, abruptly left the room,
whereupon the Duke of Somerset rose and told the queen in a rude tone,
"That if she suffered that fellow to treat of affairs of the war,
without the advice of the general, he could not serve her."

Of course her majesty was obliged to succumb to the storm she had
brought about her head, and forthwith dismissed Harley. Then she was
requested to get rid of Mrs. Masham, though the councillors did not
make a direct attack on the bed-chamber woman for fear of ridicule. The
Duchess of Marlborough demanded a private interview; but did not
succeed in having her cousin dismissed, because her aid in nursing the
prince-consort was so valuable that the queen strenuously refused to
part with her. But the duchess was so friendly in her manners at this
interview that she succeeded in exacting a solemn promise from "her dear
Mrs. Morley" that if at any time it should become necessary for her to
quit her service her places should be transferred to her daughters.

Another singular scene was enacted in the council when the "Pretender"
invaded Scotland, and Sir George Byng was sent to intercept his
progress. It was urged that if the young prince should be taken, he
should forfeit his life; thereupon the queen wept, and the council broke
up in confusion.

Although the "Pretender" was really captured, her majesty was spared the
embarrassment of deciding as to his fate, for he was landed on French
soil. Not so the Jacobites who were taken at the same time, for they
were charged with high treason; and old Lord Griffin was condemned
{469}to execution. But he pined away, and at the expiration of eighteen
months died in prison of old age; for the queen regularly respited
him, until she was thus relieved of the pain of putting an end to the
existence of one of her father's most faithful servants.

During the summer the queen quarrelled with the Duke of Marlborough,
because she desired to appoint colonels in the army, and he justly
believed that he was more capable than she could possibly be of judging
what, men had deserved promotion. The prime reason for this dispute was
that Prince George had some favorites for whom he desired places, and
the queen was anxious to gratify him; but the Duke of Marlborough was
so angry that he wrote a very severe letter of reproof to his brother,
George Churchill, who forthwith showed it to her majesty, and excited a
great deal of displeasure.

Meanwhile the duchess kept hammering at Abigail Ma-sham, until at last
she got hold of a subject for attack. One of the court spies had taken
pains to inform her that her cousin had grand apartments at Kensington
Palace, where she received her friends in style whenever they called.
After duly turning this piece of news over in her mind, the duchess came
to the conclusion that the apartments referred to must be those that
King William had fitted up for his favorite, Keppel, and that Queen Anne
had subsequently allotted to her. To be sure, she had never occupied
them, and probably never would do so; but she was determined that no
one else should enjoy them, least of all Abigail Masham. So, in high
dudgeon, she posted off to Kensington to inquire into the matter.

Prince George was so ill from gout and asthma, and had grown so
excessively fat, that he could not get up or down stairs without a great
deal of suffering; therefore he was lodged on the ground-floor of the
palace, whence he could {470}walk out in the grounds and enjoy the air
whenever he felt able. The queen shared his apartments, and as he often
required care at night to prevent his suffocating during his paroxysms
of coughing, the bed-chamber women were placed in the adjoining rooms,
so they could be summoned in case of need.

[Illustration: 0476]

On arriving at the palace, the duchess ordered the housemaid to open
her suite of apartments, and moved towards those on the ground-floor,
although part of them were situated on the one above. The maid replied
that she could not do so, because they were divided between Mrs. Masham
and the bed-chamber women in waiting. That was just what the irate
duchess had come to find out; so she immediately {471}made an indignant
complaint to the queen, which resulted, after too much absurd wrangling
to be worthy of recital, in the removal of the royal household to a
house in Windsor Forest, which her majesty had purchased in the days
when she was forbidden by Queen Mary to appear at court. In this quiet
retreat she watched over her sick husband and sought to relieve his
sufferings; but the duchess declared that the reason Queen Anne spent
the summer in that place, "which was as hot as an oven," was to enable
Mrs. Masham to admit such persons as desired secret interviews with her
majesty, and they could be let in from the park without anybody being
the wiser.

While at this cottage, the victory of Oudenarde was announced to her
majesty. When she heard that it had been won at the cost of two thousand
lives, she exclaimed: "O Lord! when will all this dreadful bloodshed
cease?" Nevertheless, etiquette required her to write a letter of
congratulation and thanks to the victorious Duke of Marlborough, which
she did at once.

Public thanksgiving for the victory took place in the usual way at St.
Paul's Cathedral on the nineteenth of August. As her husband was the
victor, the Duchess of Marlborough considered herself the heroine of
the day, and bustled about to make herself as important as possible.
Her office of mistress of the robes imposed upon her several duties, and
among others, the arrangement of the queen's jewels as she chose to have
them worn. When the royal cortege was approaching the cathedral, the
duchess chanced to cast her eyes over the costume of her majesty, and
observed that the jewels were absent. This was a mark of disrespect that
she would not stand, so she began scolding in such way that the queen
lost her temper, and the two ladies quarrelled and abused each other
until they got inside the church, when the duchess angrily bade the
{472}queen "to hold her tongue." This was too much. Her majesty had
borne a great deal from her friend, but such an insult aroused her
indignation. Perhaps the duchess repented of her hasty speech; for a day
or two later she took occasion to send the following humble note with a
letter from her husband:--

"I cannot help sending your majesty this letter to show how exactly Lord
Marlborough agrees with me in opinion that he has now no interest with
you, though when I said so in the church last Thursday you were pleased
to say it was untrue."

"And yet, I think he will be surprised to hear that when I had taken so
much pains to put your jewels in a way that I thought you would like,
Mrs. Masham could make you refuse to wear them in so unkind a manner;
because that was a power she had not thought fit to exercise before.

"I will make no reflections on it, only that I must needs observe that
your majesty chose a very wrong day to mortify me when your were just
going to return thanks for a victory obtained by my Lord Marlborough!"

No doubt the queen thought, as anybody might, that a great deal of
fuss had been made about a trifling matter, for she sent the following
reply:--

"After the _commands_ you gave me on the thanksgiving day not to answer,
I should not have troubled you with these lines; but, to return the Duke
of Marlborough's letter safe into your hands, and for the same reason, I
do not say anything to that or to yours which enclosed it."

What a pity it is that the queen did not always behave with the same
dignity, when dealing with the haughty, domineering duchess! If she
had, many a heartache and many an insult she might have spared herself.
Another letter, still more meek in its tone, was sent in reply; but
{473}open warfare had been declared between the friends of former
years, and the duchess had no chance of ever regaining her sway over her
sovereign's heart.

Her husband's ill health was a matter of greater concern to Queen Anne
just then than anything else could be; and, within a week after the
stormy scene at St. Paul's, she set out with him for the west of
England, hoping that change of air might benefit him. They travelled by
easy stages until they arrived at Bath, a favorite resort, where Anne
often went for her own health.

That autumn a fine statue of the queen that had been modeled by Bird,
the sculptor, was finished, and placed at the west door of St. Paul's,
where it still stands. Although it is said to be a perfect likeness, it
is considered by no means an excellent work of art, notwithstanding its
having cost over five hundred pounds. Just when it was erected, there
was a report current that the queen intended to free herself from the
tyranny of the Duchess of Marlborough. That was enough to strike terror
to the hearts of the Whigs; for with their ruler in disgrace, they
could hope for no better fate than banishment,--at least from the public
treasury, whence they were generously helping themselves. Their only
chance then was to calumniate the queen and make her as unpopular as
possible, so that when it came to the point their party would be too
strong for her to resist. So they accused her of all sorts of vices in
circulars that were daily distributed among the populace. One charge
brought against her was that of intoxication, because one of her enemies
had said "that she got drunk every day as a remedy to keep the gout from
her stomach." Had this been a fact, the Duchess of Marlborough would
certainly have been one of her first accusers, but even in her most
malignant moods she never mentions such a fact. However, the Whig
physician, Dr. Garth, wrote an epigram {474}which was found fastened to
the statue the day after it appeared in front of St. Paul's Cathedral.
It ran thus:--

               "Here mighty Anne's statue placed we find,

               Betwixt the daring passions of her mind;

               A brandy-shop before, a church behind:

               But why thy back turned to that sacred place,

               As thy unhappy father's was to grace?

               Why here, like Tantalus, in torments placed,

               To view those waters which thou canst not taste?

               Though, by thy proffer'd globe we may perceive,

               That for a dram, thou the whole world would'st give."

It must be remembered that this was written by an enemy; very different
is the poetry under an engraving of the queen and her consort at the
British Museum, and forms a pleasing contrast to the above:--

               "The only married queen that ne'er knew strife,

               Controlling monarchs, but submissive wife,

               Like angels' sighs her downy passions move,

               Tenderly loving and attractive love.

               Of every grace and virtue she's possessed--

               Was mother, wife, and queen, and all the best"

On her return from Bath the queen congratulated herself on her husband's
improvement; but he knew that it was only momentary, and when she was
preparing for a hunting excursion at Newmarket he begged her not to
leave him. He felt that he had not long to live, and he was right, for
he died before the close of the month, at Kensington Palace. Queen
Anne had been a happy wife for twenty years, and the death of the
prince-consort was a dreadful blow, though she had witnessed his
declining health for many months. Even at the moment of her greatest
bereavement, the Duchess of Marlborough forced herself into the presence
of the queen, and insisted upon leading her from the room after the
prince was dead. Anne treated her with excessive coldness, merely
submitting to {475}the arrangements she had made for her removal to St.
James's Palace, because she was too miserable to oppose her.

The interment of the prince-consort took place on the thirteenth
of November. The funeral was private, which only means that it was
performed by torchlight at night, for it was attended by all the
ministers and great officers of state. The court went into mourning, and
all the theatres were closed for a month.

[[A.D. 1709.]] The duchess continued to watch Queen Anne very closely,
and was shocked when fires were ordered to be made in the apartments
occupied by the late prince-consort, also in those below, the two being
connected by a private back staircase. They were for her majesty and
Mrs. Masham, and strong suspicions were aroused in the mind of the
active watch-dog that this arrangement was effected for the purpose of
granting interviews with her political opponents. She, therefore, took
the queen to task for such an irregular mode of proceeding, and raising
her eyes and hands in holy horror, said: "I'm amazed!" But the queen
made no reply, and probably no change in her plans just then, for she
was so absorbed in grief that she took no interest in anything for many
months. She was not sufficiently recovered in spirits to open parliament
the following May, but she issued a general pardon, particularly to
those who had been in correspondence with the Court of St. Germain,
and it was confirmed. This was for the protection of Lord-treasurer
Godolphin as well as herself, for she was always in mortal terror lest
the Marlborough family should proclaim to the world the part she
had played in the revolution. Therefore she dared not exasperate the
duchess, nor could she remove her until the duke had accumulated
wealth sufficient to render the stability of the government a matter of
personal interest with him. The {476}duchess understood this perfectly,
and made the queen feel her power, as we have seen.

Another victory won by the Duke of Marlborough forced her majesty to
reappear in public. This was Malplaquet; but twenty thousand British
subjects had lost their lives on the battle-field, and Queen Anne joined
the thanksgiving procession with a heavy heart, and with eyes red and
swollen from weeping. She could not rejoice over a victory at such a
sacrifice. The details of the war filled her with horror, and she longed
to put an end to the dreadful slaughter; but the victorious duke's
return gave her little encouragement in that respect, for he demanded of
the queen "her patent to make him captain-general for life, because the
war would not only last through their lives, but probably forever." Anne
was perfectly amazed at this extraordinary speech, but dismissed the
subject by answering: "That she would take time to consider it," and
afterwards asked Lord-chancellor Cowper: "In what words would you draw a
commission which is to render the Duke of Marlborough captain-general of
my armies for life?"

Lord Cowper stared as though he thought her majesty had taken leave
of her senses, and then warmly expressed his disapproval of such a
proceeding. "Well, talk to the Duke of Marlborough about it," replied
the queen, without telling him that she had never intended to make the
appointment. Cowper obeyed, and assured the duke "that he would never
put the great seal of England to such a commission." The Duke of Argyle
and several other noblemen were secretly brought to confer with the
queen on this subject, and she asked what she should do if her refusal
to appoint Marlborough captain-general for life should prompt him to
make an attack on the crown. The Duke of Argyle replied: "Her majesty
need not worry, for he would undertake, if ever she commanded it, to
seize

{477}

[Illustration: 0483]

{479}the Duke of Marlborough, at the head of his troops, and bring him
before her, dead or alive!"

It was Harley who brought this secret council together, and the
Marlboroughs hated him worse than ever when they discovered it. They had
gone a step too far, and the division in their own party in consequence
caused the duke to withdraw his request.

Her majesty having expressed her intention to lay aside her mourning
at the Christmas festival, which was close at hand, intercourse became
necessary between her and the duchess, who was mistress of the robes.
This was a signal for the renewal of hostilities, beginning with
lodgings and situations for chambermaids and other members of the royal
household; for the tyrant duchess insisted on her right to make every
appointment of that sort. Many severe letters passed between her and the
queen on this subject, and it became necessary to inform her on one or
two occasions that she had rather overstepped the mark when claiming
"her rights." The storm was at its height when the duchess discovered
that her majesty, without asking permission, had ordered a bottle of
wine to be allowed daily to a sick laundress who had washed her laces
for twenty years. Thereupon she raved like an angry fishwife, and her
voice was raised to such a pitch that the footmen at the back-stairs
heard every word she uttered. The queen, unable to contend with such a
vixen, rose to leave the room; but the irate duchess whisked past her,
slammed the door, posted her back against it, and informed her royal
mistress "that she _should_ hear her out, for that was the least favor
she could do her for having set the crown on her head and kept it
there." This tirade was kept up for nearly an hour; then Sarah of
Marlborough finished by saying "that she did not care if she never saw
her majesty again," and flounced out of the room as the queen calmly
{480}replied, "that she thought, indeed, the more seldom the better."

It is hard to comprehend how a sovereign could submit to such
humiliating scenes, but she knew that the chief cause of complaint with
the duchess regarding the wine arose from the fact of the laundress
having once served Mrs. Masham, who, it was supposed, was the instigator
of the queen's beneficent act. Even then such petty jealousy, and such
absurdly, undignified behavior give a poor opinion to the world of the
lofty duchess's head and heart. She and the queen scarcely spoke after
this; but a day or two before Christmas she wrote a letter to her
majesty lecturing her on the necessity of entering on the religious
services of the season with a spirit of meekness and forgiveness
for injuries. Some passages were so insolent that the letter was not
answered; but as the queen passed to the altar of St. James's Chapel,
she bestowed a gracious smile on the writer.

[[A.D. 1710.]] The new year opened with the queen at Hampton Court,
considering the best means for breaking loose from the trammels of the
Whig party, headed by the Marlborough family. It was a difficult step,
but she was determined to take it, and for that purpose summoned Harley
to her presence in the most secret manner possible. His advice was to
begin by filling the post of lieutenant of the Tower, just vacated by
the death of the Earl of Essex, as her majesty chose, without consulting
anybody. In consequence, the Earl of Rivers was appointed to this great
office, whereupon the duchess flew into a rage, and declared that a man
who had borne the nickname of "Tyburn Dick" in his youth, having barely
escaped conviction at the criminal bar for robbing his own father,
was no fit person for such an honor. But this is how he had managed to
obtain it: No sooner did he hear of the death

{481}

[Illustration: 0487]

{483}of Essex than he hastened to the presence of the Duke of
Marlborough with the news, adding a request that the great man would
interest himself with the queen to secure the vacant post for him. It
was not the duke's way to give a decided refusal, nor did he hesitate to
make promises that he had not the slightest intention of fulfilling;
so, after complimenting "Tyburn Dick," and loading him with offers of
kindness, the duke advised him to "think of something better than the
lieutenancy of the Tower, as the place was not worthy of his talent."
However, the man was determined, and said: "He was going to ask the
queen for the appointment, and would tell her that his grace had no
objection." Marlborough, who never dreamed that the queen would take an
important step without consulting him, told Lord Rivers that "he might
say so if he pleased;" whereupon the petitioner lost not a moment in
seeking an audience of the queen, who, on hearing what Marlborough had
said, with the adornments Lord Rivers chose to add, made the appointment
at once. As the new lieutenant of the Tower passed out of the royal
presence he made the duke, who was just entering, a most profound bow,
and rubbed his hands with delight as he left the palace. But we know
that the duke had not intended that Rivers should succeed Essex, and the
object of his present visit to her majesty was to propose the Duke of
Northumberland instead. He was amazed to find that he was too late, and
made serious complaints to the queen, who asked him, "whether Earl
Rivers had asserted what was not true." The duke could not say that he
had, and so there was no redress; but, when her majesty followed up this
appointment by one for colonel of a regiment, Lord Godolphin was as
indignant as the duke himself, and she was forced to withdraw.

Before departing for his campaign the Duke of Marlborough {484}sought an
interview with the queen, and requested that his wife might be permitted
to remain in the country as much as possible, and that as soon as peace
was made her resignation might be accepted in favor of her daughters.
The queen granted the first part of the request with alacrity, delighted
at the prospect of being relieved of the presence of her tyrant, but
made no reply with regard to the daughter's, on whom she intended to
bestow no favors whatever.

Now a most important trial took place this year, that created intense
excitement, and occupied the court for three entire weeks. It was that
of Dr. Sacheverel, a representative of an ancient Norman family, who had
been impeached, chiefly on charges connected with the church; but, as
this affair is excessively dry and uninteresting, it is only necessary
to mention it because of its bearing on the position of Queen Anne. Dr.
Sacheverel belonged to her party, and she was so much interested in
his trial that she sat to witness it every day in a curtained box at
Westminster Hall. At the end of the contest the doctor was sentenced to
suspend his preaching for three years, which was almost equivalent to
acquittal. The lower classes showed clearly that they were for their
"good Queen Anne," and that they were ready to rise in her defence
against the Whig ministry whenever she should say the word. This
feeling, which was so clearly manifested, encouraged the queen to take
measures to free herself from the Marlboroughs and their party. The
duchess made several attempts at private interviews, but was always
repulsed, until she became convinced at last that Queen Anne would see
her only at public receptions, or when official duties required it. The
Marlborough family conclave were convinced that their days were numbered
when the Tory Duke of Shrewsbury was made lord-chamberlain {485}of the
royal household in place of the Whig Marquis of Kent. This was followed
up by the removal of Lord Sunderland from his office of secretary of
state. This young man, as son-in-law of the Duchess of Marlborough,
had heard her majesty spoken of with so much disrespect that he had
on several occasions behaved most rudely, and he was removed for this
reason, more than for any adherence to the Whig party.

The colonel whom her majesty had desired to appoint when she met with
such violent opposition was Jack Hill, brother to Mrs. Masham, her
favorite bed-chamber woman. She made another attempt, and positively
declared that she would not sign a single one of the Duke of
Marlborough's numerous commissions until her will was obeyed in this
matter. This was alarming, for the duke received payment for these
commissions; so he gave in at once and signed Jack Hill's appointment
without further parley. Queen Anne forthwith sent the new officer
to make an attack on Quebec, as the conquest of Canada was deemed
an important measure for the security of the British possessions in
America. Much to the delight of the Marlborough party, Jack Hill's
attempt was a failure.

The duchess was so angry at the dismissal of her son-in-law that she
sent a letter to her husband, which he was to copy and forward to her
majesty as though it were expressive of his own wrath, but he tossed
it into the fire. But the irrepressible duchess had it intimated to the
queen through David Hamilton, one of the court physicians, "that if
she persisted in ruining her party all her fond and friendly letters
of former days should be published, and forwarded on lest 'dear Mrs.
Morley' might have forgotten how high her opinion had been of Mrs.
Freeman, at that date." The queen kept her own letter, and demanded all
the rest,saying: "She was sure the duchess {486}did not _now_ value
them." Not another one found its way to the queen, for they were weapons
too powerful to be lightly parted with.

The next dismissal was that of the queen's long-trusted lord-treasurer,
Godolphin. Several of his friends expressed their concern at this move
on the part of her majesty. She merely replied, "I am sorry for it, but
could not help it," and then turned out Lord Rialton, another of the
Marlborough sons-in-law. The office of lord-treasurer was placed in the
hands of seven commissioners, with Mr. Harley at their head.

The Duke of Marlborough wrote his wife that he had heard of an assassin
being on his way from Vienna to England with designs against the queen's
life, and requested that the utmost care might be taken lest he should
gain access to the royal presence. Here was a chance for the duchess
to ingratiate herself once more in the queen's favor; so she drove post
haste to court, and with a most important air demanded admittance, "on a
matter of life and death." Her majesty refused to see her, whereupon the
duchess sent her husband's letter by a messenger. One of Queen Anne's
peculiarities was indifference to personal danger, so without heeding
the warning, she merely returned the duke's letter with a line, saying:
"Just as I was coming down stairs I received yours, so could not return
enclosed until I got back." This was the last written sentence that ever
passed between the queen and the duchess.

Many of the ancient nobility who had never approached the English court
since the revolution paid their respects to Queen Anne as soon as she
had rid herself of the Marl-boroughs. But the principal one of that
party still remained, for nobody had the courage to approach the
terrible creature with any but flattering news; so it was determined
{487}to await the return of the only person in the world who could
manage her, and that was the duke himself.

Meanwhile the daring woman, who retained her office in defiance of
sovereign, prime minister, and all the other high officials, drove about
town in her magnificent coach, and made visits to different members
of her party for the purpose of calumniating the queen. She was not
permitted to enter the royal presence, and kept the gold keys that
really belonged to the new officials; but she boldly declared that her
majesty would soon want new gowns, and then she would be compelled to
come to her to give orders for them. But she was mistaken, for on the
return of the duke in December there was to be an end of her influence
with the queen in every particular. On his arrival in London the duke
took a hack and drove direct to St. James's, where he had a private half
hour's interview with the queen. In his peculiar plaintive tone of voice
he lamented his connection with the Whigs, and told her majesty "that he
was worn out with fatigue, age, and misfortunes," and added "that he was
neither covetous nor ambitious,"--at which she could scarcely suppress a
smile. At the close of the interview the queen requested him to tell
his wife "that she wished back her gold keys as groom of the stole and
mistress of the robes." The duke remonstrated, but the queen merely
replied: "It was for her honor that the keys should be returned
forthwith."

The duke entreated that this matter might be delayed until after the
peace, which must take place the ensuing summer, when he and his wife
would retire together. The queen would not delay the return of the keys
one week. The duke fell on his knees and begged for a respite of ten
days; the queen compromised, and named three as the utmost limit. Two
days later the duke again presented {488}himself at St. James's on
urgent business; but her majesty refused to speak with him, unless he
had brought the gold keys. Thereupon he returned home to get them, when
a stormy scene ensued, which ended by his wife throwing the key's at his
head. When the queen received them from the duke's hands, she said, "she
valued them more than if he had brought her the spoils of an enemy."

[[A.D. 1711.]] Early in the following year Queen Anne divided between
the Duchess of Somerset and Mrs. Ma-sham the offices formerly held by
the Duchess of Marlborough, the former being made mistress of the robes
and groom of the stole; the latter, keeper of the privy-purse. On the
second of May Queen Anne's uncle, the Earl of Rochester, died suddenly
of apoplexy.

Although Anne was his own niece, the earl had never concealed from her
his opinion that she had no right to the crown she wore; but he had
consented to aid her in the government, and was, as we know, made
president of the council. But he entertained to the last day of his life
the hope that he should see the son of James II. restored to the throne,
and was the means of causing several letters to pass between James
Stuart, or the Chevalier de St. George, as he was then called, and the
queen.

The Duke of Buckingham succeeded Rochester; and, being a relation of
the queen's, a most friendly feeling _existed_ between them. Once, after
reading a long letter presented by him from her brother, the Chevalier
de St. George, in which he set forth his claim to the throne, Queen Anne
turned to Buckingham, and asked: "How can I serve him, my lord? You well
know that a <DW7> cannot enjoy this crown in peace. Why has the example
of my father no weight with his son? He prefers his religious errors to
the throne of a great kingdom. He must thank himself, therefore, for
his own exclusion. All would be easy if he would {489}join the Church of
England. Advise him to change his religion, my lord."

Although Queen Anne spoke thus, she knew that her brother would not
renounce Catholicism, and she had no intention of aiding him to the
throne unless he did. She favored the succession of the Protestant house
of Hanover; but the Princess Sophia, who was the heiress of that line,
had emphatically declared that if the young prince and princess of the
house of Stuart would become members of the Church of England, their
claim should never be disputed, nor would it have been, as future events
proved.

Throughout the summer Queen Anne suffered so much from gout that she
could scarcely stir from her bed, but she held her receptions all the
same, and the crowd was often so great that only those nearest the
bed could get sight of her. In the autumn she was better, and received
ambassadors from France to negotiate for peace. One evening in October
her majesty mentioned publicly at supper "that she had agreed to treat
with France, and that she did not doubt but that in a little time
she should be able to announce to her people that which she had long
desired,--a general peace for Europe."

But she had not yet secured peace at home, for matters took such a
turn that the new ministry insisted on the removal of the Duchess
of Somerset, and when her majesty returned to the palace from the
parliament meeting she asked for the Duchess of Marlborough. One of the
latter's friends rushed to her, without a moment's delay, and told her
that if she would go to the queen then she might, with a few flattering
words, overthrow her enemies, but she indignantly refused. The queen had
new ground for complaint against the duchess when she took possession of
her new palace, just completed in St. James's Park; for the apartments
she left in the queen's palace were bereft of locks, {490}bolts,
mirrors, marble slabs, and pictures, and looked as though a destructive
army had sacked them. The duke lamented the strange conduct of his wife
when he got back, but declared "that there was no help for it, and a man
must bear a good deal to lead a quiet life at home." But this confession
did not prevent his dismissal from the army. He was succeeded by the
Duke of Ormond, who was ordered not to gain victories, but to keep the
British forces in a state of armed neutrality until peace was concluded.

It was at this time that Mr. Masham was made a peer, because her majesty
was urged to it by some of her ministers, but she said that she had
never any intention of making Abigail a great lady, and feared that
by so doing she had lost a useful servant. But Lady Masham promised to
continue in the office of dresser to her majesty even though she was a
peeress.

[[A.D. 1712.]] Nothing had given the queen so much trouble since
the death of the prince-consort as that of her beautiful sister, the
Princess Louisa, which occurred suddenly at St. Germain. An account of
this sad event is given in the story of Mary Beatrice of Modena.

Anne was ill herself in the autumn from intermittent fever, from which
she never entirely recovered.

Dean Swift was anxious to become a bishop at this period, and applied
for the see of Hereford, which Queen Anne was disposed to grant, because
she had never heard of him as anything but a partisan of the church.
But he and Lady Masham had been friends for a long time, and she
had frequently warned him to destroy the witty, satirical, offensive
articles he had shown her about her majesty, the Duchess of Somerset,
and others. The queen knew nothing about these writings, but the Duchess
of Somerset did, so she secured the aid of Dr. Sharpe, Arch- {491}bishop
of York, to prevent the appointment. When her majesty consulted the
archbishop on the subject, he startled her with this question: "Ought
not your sacred majesty to be first certain whether Dr. Swift is a
Christian before he becomes a bishop?" The queen asked him what he could
possibly mean, whereupon, having armed himself with "The Tale of a Tub,"
and other works of Swift, he handed them to her. She was amazed at what
she read, and ashamed of the slanderous puns addressed to herself, for
she had not suspected their existence. It is needless to add that Swift
was not raised to the bishopric of England, but the following year he
was appointed Dean of St. Patrick's in Ireland.

[[A.D. 1713.]] The treaty of peace that Queen Anne had so long and
so earnestly desired was at last signed at Utrecht, and the French
ambassador, Duc d'Aumont, soon after arrived in London to confer with
her majesty on this subject. He addressed the most flattering speeches
to her, and presented her with the nine beautiful gray Flemish horses
with which he had made his public entrance into the metropolis.

Parliament met soon after; and the queen's speech, announcing peace,
after eleven years of warfare, was anxiously awaited. But she was too
ill with gout, which had affected different parts of her body, to be
able to appear in the house of lords until the ninth of April, and
then her voice was painfully weak from her long suffering. Her majesty
offered Louis IV. the Order of the Garter in honor of the signing of the
peace; but the most interesting event to us of the present day connected
with it is that the great composer, Handel, wrote his magnificent
Jubilate to celebrate it.

As time went on the queen's health grew no better, and she was such
an enormous eater that frequent attacks of {492}gout were the
result,--particularly as she had grown so corpulent from her other
disease, dropsy, that she could take no exercise, and had to be lowered
and raised from one floor to another in the palace by means of a chair
worked with pulleys and ropes. She was in constant dread lest her
brother should land in England, or George of Hanover present himself
at court to claim his place as her successor. She, therefore, wrote two
letters, one to Princess Sophia, Dowager Electress of Brunswick, the
other to George Augustus, Duke of Cambridge, setting forth the danger of
such a proceeding, and appealing to their honor. As we know, her fears
were groundless in that direction; for the house of Hanover made no
attempt to approach the shores of England, though there has been some
dispute among historians as to their real intentions in this matter.

[[A.D. 1714.]] Queen Anne paid the ballad writer, Tom D'Urfey, a fee of
fifty pounds for a verse he repeated one day while she was at dessert,
that happened to tickle her fancy. As it refers to the Hanover
succession, it is worth repeating:--

                   "The crown's far too weighty

                        For shoulders of eighty;

                   She could not sustain such a trophy.

                   Her hand, too, already

                   Has grown so unsteady

                   She can't hold a sceptre;

                   So Providence kept her

                   Away--poor old Dowager Sophy!"

Certainly D'Urfey did not earn his fifty pounds for the literary merit
of the verse, but perhaps it was because it possessed so little that it
pleased the queen. The Electress Sophia of Hanover, about whom it was
written, died before the end of the year, at the age of eighty-four.

Queen Anne witnessed several stormy scenes among {493}her ministers
towards the end of July that caused her intense suffering. After each
one she would sink into a swoon from exhaustion, and frequently said
to her physician, Dr. Arbuthnot, "I shall never survive it." The
councillors showed little consideration for her presence, and continued
their quarrels, regardless of her ill health, though they must have seen
the cruel effect. On the evening of July 29, there was to be another
council meeting, which the sick queen dreaded more than all the others.
When the hour drew near, Mrs. Danvers, one of the oldest ladies of the
royal household, entered the presence chamber of Kensington Palace, and
to her great surprise, beheld the queen standing before the clock with
her eyes intently fixed on the dial plate. As her majesty had not for
several months been able to move without assistance, Mrs. Danvers's
surprise is early understood. She crossed the large room, the deep
silence of which was only broken by the ticking of the clock, and
approaching the queen, asked, "whether her majesty saw anything unusual
there in the clock?" Without answering, Queen Anne turned slowly and
looked at the speaker, who was so terrified at the ghastly, troubled
expression on her face that she screamed for help. The queen was carried
to bed by the people who had hastened to the summons, and raved in
delirium for many hours about "the Pretender."

Doctor Arbuthnot passed the night at her bedside, with several other
court physicians, and the invalid rallied; but the news of her condition
spread like wild-fire all over London; and in the morning Dr. Mead, a
Whig politician, was summoned. As soon as he had seen the royal invalid,
he demanded that "those who were in favor of the Protestant succession
should at once send a bulletin of her majesty's symptoms to the Elector
of Hanover's physicians, who would soon say how long Queen Anne had to
live: {494}but he staked his professional reputation that her majesty
would be no more long before such intelligence should be received." It
has always been supposed that the peaceable proclamation of George I.
was due to this physician's boldness.

But Queen Anne did not die quite as soon as Dr. Mead had predicted,
which was within an hour, for she recovered consciousness and speech
enough, after being bled a second time, to appoint the Duke of
Shrewsbury prime minister.

He approached her bed, and asked her, "if she knew to whom she gave the
white wand?"--the insignia of office.

"Yes," replied the queen, "to the Duke of Shrewsbury; for God's sake,
use it for the good of my people." Shortly after her mind began to
wander again, and she frequently exclaimed in a piteous tone: "Oh, my
brother!--oh, my poor brother!"

The privy council assembled at her bedside; but she never recovered
consciousness sufficient to pray or to speak rationally, and they soon
withdrew.

To prevent a disturbance in the city, the lord-mayor was ordered to be
particularly watchful; trained troops were held in readiness to act at
a moment's warning, and an extra guard was placed at the Tower. The
Jacobite party held a meeting, but decided, after a great deal of
consideration, that they could do nothing towards proclaiming the
Chevalier de St. George.

Between seven and eight o'clock, on the morning of August 1, 1714, Queen
Anne expired, in the fiftieth year of her age, and the thirteenth of her
reign. She died as her predecessor, William III., had done, on Sunday,
and George I. was proclaimed king the same day. It must have been a
bitter trial to the Jacobites to behold the Duke of Marl-

{495}

[Illustration: 0501]

borough, {497}who, after a voluntary exile, returned to London the
Wednesday succeeding Queen Anne's death, and made a grand triumphal
entry, attended by hundreds of gentlemen on horseback, some of the
nobility in coaches, and the city militia; but they had the satisfaction
of seeing his own splendid carriage break down by Temple-Bar.

Queen Anne had done much good for her people, and no evil; and there
never was a sovereign more deeply regretted. The Duchess of Marlborough
wrote a most unjust, abusive description of her benefactress; but it is
to be hoped our young readers will be able to form an estimate of her
character for themselves.

Her remains were deposited in the vault on the south side of Henry
VIII.'s Chapel, in Westminster, where lie Charles II., William III., and
Prince George of Denmark. There was only one place left in this vault,
and as soon as it received the last of the Stuart sovereigns it was
bricked up. No monument nor tablet marks the resting-place of "good
Queen Anne," though it seems as though the fondness of "the Bounty"
deserved at least this trifling distinction from the Church of England.









End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Agnes Strickland's Queens of England,
Vol. II. (of III), by Rosalie Kaufman and Agnes Strickland

*** 