Courting Her Highness

DISGRACE AND DEPARTURE

The Queen was dozing in her chair when Abigail told her that the Abbé Guiscard was waiting to see her.

“I will see him, Masham,” said Anne, smiling. “He is such a brave man, and we must show how pleased we are to receive those who desert Catholicism for our Faith.”

Abigail brought the Abbé to the Queen and retired into an ante-room where she could hear all that took place between the Queen and her visitor—a long-standing habit of Abigail’s.

Anne, peering myopically at her visitor, did not notice how wild his eyes were and how his lips twitched. She saw a brave Frenchman forced to leave his native country on account of his religion. He had impressed certain people and as a result had been given the command of one of the regiments abroad and had committed himself with valour—so rumour said—at Almanza.

Declaring that such men should receive encouragement in England Anne had arranged that he should receive a pension of four hundred pounds a year. Guiscard, in London, had been taken up by society and gave hair-raising accounts of military adventures in which he was always the central figure. Many of these had been recounted to Anne and it was for this reason that she had been willing to grant the interview.

As soon as he was alone with the Queen, Guiscard became disrespectful.

“I am offered a pension of four hundred pounds a year,” he said in a loud voice. “How do you think a man such as I can live on such a pittance?”

Having expected a display of gratitude for her beneficence Anne was astounded, but before she could answer, Guiscard continued that he had thought it would be worth his while to come to England where he had expected to receive better treatment than he had. He might have stayed in France and been paid better for his services.

“The interview is over,” Anne told him coolly. “You may retire.”

“But I have not finished,” cried Guiscard. “I tell you this: I’ll not accept your miserable four hundred a year. I shall give my services to those who are prepared to pay what they are worth.” He rose and stood towering over the Queen who, her feet swathed in bandages, was unable to move.

“Pray call Mrs. Masham,” said Anne imperiously.

“You shall hear me,” shouted Guiscard.

It was at this point that Abigail called the guards.

When they entered Guiscard was shouting and flinging his arms about as though at any moment he would attack the Queen. The guards seized him and hustled him away.

The next day Guiscard was arrested on suspicion of spying for France and was taken to The Cockpit where the Council was assembled.

Harley at its head rose, when the man was brought before them, and approached Guiscard, who lifted his right hand and struck; Harley reeled backwards, blood on his coat, as he fell fainting to the floor.

The whole nation was talking about the attempted assassination. Guiscard, the French adventurer, suspected of being a spy, had been arrested to answer charges before the Council; Robert Harley had long suspected him and had been taking steps to reduce the pension which was being paid to him. Thus the villain decided to take his revenge.

Fortunately Harley had not been alone; his friends in the Council—Henry St. John at the head of them—had immediately drawn their swords and falling upon the assailant, attacked him so severely that by the time he reached Newgate Prison he was dying.

But that was not the end of this dramatic incident. Robert Harley had been very slightly hurt for his assailant’s weapon had merely been a penknife which had done little more than scratch his skin. But Harley was too wily to treat the matter lightly. He took to his bed while the crowds gathered outside his house, loud in their lamentations, declaring that England was threatened with the loss of her saviour. Harley revelled in the fuss. When at length he rose and went to the House of Commons his carriage was stopped in the streets while the crowds cheered him; women knelt in the streets and thanked God for his recovery; they wept to see him. The House of Commons was full to overflowing; he was embraced even by his enemies; flowery speeches were made. Harley had reason to be grateful to Guiscard’s penknife.

When he went to the Queen she received him tearfully.

“Dear Mr. Harley, what a great pleasure! I feel Providence has saved you for me and the country.”

“I trust Providence never regrets the action, Madam.”

Anne smiled. “You were always a wit, dear Mr. Harley. I have been talking to your friends and we feel that this occasion should be marked with a celebration. We want the whole country to know how grateful we are.”

Harley was alert. This was the very pinnacle of success. It was amusing to realize that Guiscard’s penknife had given him the final push necessary to stand up there, savouring the rarified air.

“I am going to ask you to be my Lord Treasurer.”

That was good. He was virtually the head of the Government now, but in future he would be so in very fact.

“And it is ridiculous that you should continue plain Mr. Harley. I suggest the peerage. Earl of Oxford and Earl Mortimer.”

Harley kissed the Queen’s hands, tears of triumph in his eyes.

“Your Majesty is good to me.”

Abigail was in the ante-room as he went out. He smiled at her vaguely, scarcely seeing her.

The Earl of Oxford, Lord Treasurer, the most popular man in the country, no longer needed the services of Abigail Masham.

Robert Harley, Earl of Oxford, was closeted with the Queen. They were alone for he did not care to say what he had to in the presence of any other.

Abigail, delivered of a son after a long and arduous labour, was not in attendance, for Anne, delighted with the child, had been concerned for Abigail and had commanded that she rest from her duties until she had recovered.

Oxford was secretly excited although he wore an expression of consternation. There was one thing he wanted more than any other and that was to destroy Marlborough. The Duchess was dismissed but the Duke could not be thrust aside so easily. He was the leader of the armies still—the victorious armies; he was a power in Europe, and England still needed him. On the other hand, Marlborough was Oxford’s enemy in chief for it was through the services of Abigail Masham, whom Sarah regarded as her evil genius, that he had been helped to power. There was not room in English politics for Marlborough and Oxford and the latter was awaiting the opportunity to rid himself of his enemy. While there was war in Europe, England needed Marlborough; it was for this reason that Oxford was secretly delighted as he came to the Queen.

“Grave news, Your Majesty. The death of the Emperor Joseph is going to colour the entire situation which is of such importance to us.”

“Poor man! It is so terrible and unexpected. The smallpox is a scourge, my dear Lord Oxford. A positive scourge. I remember how it struck my poor sister.”

“Your Majesty is right; and now that Charles of Austria has become the new Emperor we have lost our candidate for the Spanish throne, for the union of the Empire and Spain is impossible. Your Majesty will realize the trouble such a state of affairs would create, for it would completely upset the balance of power.”

“You are right, of course. And the main reason for continuing this dreadful war was to prevent Louis’ grandson from keeping the throne of Spain and to set our candidate upon it.”

“Exactly.”

“What a menace Emperor Charles would be,” sighed Anne, “if in addition to Austria, Italy and the Netherlands he ruled Spain as well.”

“Louis XIV himself would not be more formidable and it is impossible to remove his grandson from the throne. Louis is an old man now. He has offered to meet all our demands except that of fighting against his own grandson. I have to remind Your Majesty that he has not been unreasonable.”

“My dear Lord Oxford, you do not have to remind me. Nothing would please me more than to end this dreadful war. I have wept bitterly when I have seen the list of casualties. Too many of my subjects are losing their lives in this struggle.”

“How fortunate we are to have a sovereign so humane … so reasonable.”

“My dear Lord Oxford. I am the fortunate one, to have such ministers.”

Oxford kissed her hand. He could see that he was going to get his way with the utmost ease.

“I think we might sound the French as to peace terms, Your Majesty. But in the beginning we should not allow too many to share this secret. My Lord Marlborough for one.… His great desire is to continue the war and win more glory. He is a brilliant soldier, Your Majesty. But we cannot allow him to buy his glory at the cost of so much English blood.”

“How I agree with you, my dear Lord,” sighed Anne fervently.

“Then we will work in secret for a while; and I think I can promise Your Majesty peace in a very short time.”

“Nothing could give me greater happiness than to see an end to this spilling of blood.”

Oxford bowed his head in assent. An end to the spilling of blood, he thought; and an end to Marlborough.

Abigail was back at Court after her brief convalescence. And the Queen was delighted to have her.

“Dear Masham, so you have a boy and a girl now. How fortunate you are.”

Abigail sat at the Queen’s feet while they talked of children. Anne went sadly over the childhood of her boy, how precocious he had been, how precious. Abigail had heard all before and while she listened she was wondering when the Queen would reward her for her services and give her the title she needed that it might be passed on to her son.

If only Samuel were a little adventurous. He was a good soldier. Brigadier-General now, and Member for Ilchester. But he lacked all the qualities of a leader. As for my lord Oxford; he was growing farther and farther from her; but as he grew farther away, Henry St. John came nearer.

St. John was different from Oxford—less complicated. Something of a rake still, he had been notorious in his youth for his extravagance and dissipation. He had been a disciple of Oxford’s, but was he just a little piqued now by Oxford’s great and undeserved popularity over the Guiscard affair? Did he feel that Oxford was neglecting his old friends now he was secure in his position?

Abigail intended to discover—very discreetly. It might be that she and Henry St. John could work in unison as once she had worked with Robert Harley.

It was St. John who told her that Marlborough was sounding Hanover. The Queen was middle-aged; she was constantly ill. Each year she became slightly more incapacitated. If she were to die and there was a Hanoverian succession which the Marlboroughs had helped to bring about, it would go ill with the Marlboroughs’ enemies.

St. John smiled roguishly at Abigail. “And we all know whom the Marlboroughs consider their first enemy: You, my dear lady.”

Abigail was uneasy. To contemplate the death of the Queen was a nightmare. All blessings flowed from the royal invalid; and so far, she had nothing which she could pass on to her family.

“It is no use our looking to Hanover,” said St. John.

“In that case we must look in the opposite direction,” replied Abigail.

“St. Germains,” whispered St. John.

The Queen was in tears. News had been brought to her that her uncle Lord Rochester was dead. She sent for Masham to comfort her.

“We were not on good terms, Masham, and that makes it so much more tragic. How I regret the quarrels and discord in my family!”

“Your Majesty has always acted with the greatest goodness,” Abigail replied.

“Oh but the troubles, Masham … the troubles! When I think of my poor father and what we did to him sometimes I think I shall die of shame.”

“Your Majesty did what you believed to be right. He was a Catholic and the people of England would not tolerate a Catholic on the throne.”

“It haunts me, Masham. It still does, and I know that it haunted my poor sister Mary. Why when she died we were not on good terms.”

“I believe Lady Marlborough made great trouble between you.”

“She did. And my dear sister implored me to rid myself of her. If I had but listened! But I was blind then, Masham … quite blind.”

“Your Majesty is free of her now.”

“Yes, and I thank God. But I think of the past, Masham. Now that I am getting old and am so often ill and infirm I think the more.”

“I understand, Your Majesty. That young man at St. Germains is after all your half brother.”

“I often think of him, Masham, and wish that I could put everything in order.”

“Your Majesty means by fixing the succession on him?”

The Queen caught her breath. “I had not gone so far as that.”

“But it is on your mind and it would comfort Your Majesty if you considered this matter … explored this matter …”

“I should not wish him to be brought to England while I lived.”

“No, no, Your Majesty. I thought perhaps you meant you would prefer him to succeed you—which I pray and trust will not be for many years for I do not wish to be here to see it—rather than the Germans.”

“I have no great love of the Germans, Masham. And he is my brother.”

“Your Majesty should talk this over with ministers you trust.”

“Dear Lord Oxford! But the boy would have to change his religion. We cannot have papists in England, Masham. The people would not accept it … and I should not wish it. We should have to communicate with my brother. We should have to impress upon him the need to change his religion. My father would not change … although he saw disaster all about him. I wonder if his son is as obstinate.”

“It may be that Your Majesty may wish to find out.”

The Queen was thoughtful; so was Abigail. The Hanoverian succession must be prevented if she were to remain at Court after the Queen’s death for it seemed that the Marlboroughs were taking their stand with the Germans.

It was not possible to live perpetually in the glory of a penknife wound and Lord Oxford was facing difficulties in the party. Among the Tories were many Jacobites and since the Queen’s half brother had intimated that he preferred his religion to the throne of England the plot to place him next in succession had foundered. Marlborough was still powerful and firmly set against peace; he had his adherents.

The Tory party lacked a majority in the Lords and the only way this could be remedied was by creating new peers. Here was where Abigail could be useful in persuading the Queen. She would do it, Oxford knew, for an adequate reward. It was time she ceased to be plain Mrs.

Samuel Masham was among the twelve peers created to swell the Tory Majority in the Lords. Abigail was secretly delighted.

Lady Masham now; she had come far from the backstairs quarters in Lady Rivers’ House! She would like to see any of the Churchills look down on her now as the poor relation!

For a short while she was friendly with Oxford, but that passed. He was only interested in his own affairs; she noticed that since his elevation to rank and position he was becoming more and more careless in his dress and manners.

Let him. She would not warn him. Meanwhile her friendship with Henry St. John was rapidly growing. Lightly they criticized their one-time friend; but there was a gleam of understanding in their eyes.

Oxford was a fool. He was growing careless.

Oxford sat with the Queen. She enjoyed these têtes-à-têtes with her new minister as she had the old ones with dear Mr. Montgomery and Mr. Freeman.

He talked to her frankly and intelligently and as he was what she called so right-thinking on matters of Church and State, she was well pleased with her minister.

When he pointed out that there would never be an effective peace while the Duke of Marlborough was such a power in the country and on the Continent, she believed him, for the Duke, being such a brilliant soldier, had naturally hoped for war.

One day Oxford came to her in a state of excitement which he hid under an expression of gravity.

He had ill news, he told her. He had heard from reliable sources that the Duke of Marlborough had amassed a great fortune through ill practices.

“What practices?” asked Anne in alarm.

“Peculation, Madam. He made a fortune of sixty thousand pounds on bread contracts alone during his service in the Army. I have been questioning Sir Solomon Medina who controls the bread supplies to the Army and he reluctantly admitted that he paid the Duke six thousand pounds a year as a bribe to obtain the army contracts. This is not his only sin, Madam. In fact the Duke of Marlborough must be one of the richest men in the kingdom. We might ask ourselves how he became rich. Both he and his Duchess had means of filling the family coffers and these means, although highly successful, could be put under the unpleasant name of peculation.”

“I will not have the Duchess charged,” said Anne quickly, remembering Sarah’s threat to publish her letters.

“The Duchess’s case is over,” said Oxford, “but not that of the Duke.”

In Windsor Lodge Lord Godolphin was dying. Sarah had nursed him, ruling the sick room as imperiously as she had once ruled the Queen’s Court.

Times had changed. They had too many enemies. And she knew that a Government intent in making peace was determined to disgrace one who would stand against that peace.

Poor Godolphin! But perhaps he was fortunate for he would not have to stay and fight his way back to power. There he lay on his bed oblivious to all that was happening about them—an old man now; yet it did not seem so long ago that they had all laid plans together.

She left the bedchamber, for she heard sounds of arrival. John had come to Windsor.

She ran into his embrace but she knew before he spoke, that the worst had happened. He had lost. He was disgraced. He was discredited.

They were silent as they clung together. She was thinking bitterly of her own violent nature which had brought them to this; he was blaming his avarice. He loved money for its own sake; he loved it as much as he loved fame and power—almost as much as he loved Sarah.

He had amassed great wealth—not always by fair means. He had founded his fortune on a gift of five thousand pounds given to him by an ageing woman whose lover he had been. He had never been particular as to how he found money. All that had mattered was that it came to him.

Now he was exposed. The man who had used the war to enrich himself! All the arrangements with suppliers, all the bribes and golden rewards—nothing could take away the glory of Blenheim and the rest. But none the less the Queen had dismissed him; he was a ruined man.

“There is nothing left for us in England while this Queen lives, Sarah,” he said.

She looked at him in fear. “You are going away, John?”

He nodded, but she shook her head violently.

“You will be with me,” he assured her. Then his eyes brightened. “As long as this Queen lives we shall be in exile … but she will not live forever.”

“And then!”

“George of Hanover will be George I of England. I fancy he will have a use for our services.”

“So, it is a game of patience,” she said.

“Never your greatest gift, my dearest.”

“But we shall be together.”

“Together,” he said, “playing the waiting game.”

Lord Godolphin died soon afterwards and Marlborough immediately made plans to leave the country.

Sarah quickly joined him.