Виктория Холт - Courting Her Highness

“N … no, Your Majesty, but …”

“There are no buts,” said Anne firmly. “Pray sign the order without delay and let me hear no more of this ridiculous matter.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Godolphin felt so foolish he could scarcely wait for the interview to be over; but after that he had the wrath of Sarah to face.

The light of a hundred bonfires made a glow in the November sky and the smell of their smoke penetrated St. James’s Palace. It was the usual fifth of November celebrations; and this date had become a very important one in the calendar.

On it the popish plot to blow up the King and his Parliament had been discovered, and, years later, on the same date, William of Orange had landed in England to rid the English of a popish King. So naturally the day must be celebrated.

“Remember, remember the Fifth of November

The Gunpowder Treason and Plot,”

chanted the people in the streets.

“I see no reason

The Gunpowder treason

Should ever be forgot.”

In St. Paul’s Cathedral a sermon was preached before the Lord Mayor of London by a Dr. Sacheverel. He was an eloquent speaker and his sermon attracted a great deal of attention, for he spoke frankly of the coming of William of Orange to England and of the men who had helped him to his crown. From them he passed on to certain of those men who ruled them at the time and one especially he criticized, giving him the name of Volpone but speaking of him in such a manner that no one had any doubt that he referred to Lord Godolphin.

St. Paul’s was crowded, and although Dr. Sacheverel spoke for three hours no one wanted to leave; and so impressed by the sermon was everyone who heard it, that the suggestion was made that it should be printed and circulated.

Unfortunately for Dr. Sacheverel—and others—this was done, and it was not long before it was brought to the notice of Lord Godolphin who, reading it and recognizing Volpone as himself, fell into a violent rage and swore that he would be revenged on the rash prelate.

Godolphin stood before the Queen. Anne had not seen him so vital for a very long time. It was a pity, she reflected, that it took anger to make him so.

Had her Majesty read the pamphlet? he wanted to know.

She had read it. In fact she had found it very interesting and she was sure that Dr. Sacheverel was a good and right-thinking man. But she did not say this to Lord Godolphin, for she had once been fond of him in the days when she had thought of him as Mr. Montgomery. It was a pity that he had allowed the Marlboroughs to use him, for that, according to Mr. Harley and Masham, was what he had done; and she was sure they were right, for was it not so obvious?

“This man is contemptuous of the revolution and that can only mean that he is contemptuous of Your Majesty,” pointed out Godolphin.

“He speaks kindly of me and with respect and affection.”

“Madam, if he condemns the revolution and the accession of King William and Queen Mary he is condemning you, for it would seem that he is agitating for a return of the Pretender.”

Anne’s eyes clouded. She often thought of her half brother; and sometimes when the gout was very painful and she thought of dear George now lost to her, it occurred to her that she had not many more years to live. Then if her half brother came back it would be like righting the wrong she had done her father.

“Your Majesty,” went on Godolphin. “In the circumstances I believe that Dr. Sacheverel should be put under restraint until he can be brought to trial that it may be decided whether he be guilty of treason.”

“This seems harsh treatment for preaching a sermon.”

“Such a sermon! They are talking of it in the taverns and the coffee houses. As Your Majesty’s chief minister I must ask you to leave this in my hands. If he is judged guiltless then he will be a free man. But this sermon has created a great deal of unrest and I believe that for the safety of the nation we must have Sacheverel in prison.”

Anne said she would like to consider the matter and that was all the satisfaction Godolphin could get; he went away very uneasily and would have been more so had he known that almost immediately after he had left, Abigail was bringing Robert Harley to the Queen.

Robert Harley was excited. He saw in the Sacheverel affair a possibility of overthrowing the Ministry of which Godolphin was the head. He had his ear to the ground. With St. John he frequented the coffee houses and the taverns; at Albemarle House he entertained Swift, Addison, Steele and Defoe regularly; he liked to talk with them and the conversation was sparkling. It was illuminating too. These men had already given him some idea of how the people in the streets were reacting to this affair. They were with Sacheverel; they were devoted to the Queen but each day they were turning from Marlborough because they were heartily sick of the war which they were already calling Marlborough’s war.

The country was ripe for change. This could be the occasion.

Robert Harley advised the Queen to agree to Dr. Sacheverel’s arrest. No harm would come to the man, he assured her; and she would see when he was brought to trial how firmly the people stood for her and the High Church.

“For you and the Church, Madam, should be our first concern,” he told her. “Godolphin obeys Marlborough and Marlborough wants war, because, Your Majesty, Marlborough is brilliant at war. It is a sad state when one can only buy one’s glory with the blood of others. Let the people see how this servant of the Church is treated. It could mean the overthrow of those who work against the Church.”

Anne trusted Mr. Harley. So did Abigail. When he had gone they drank tea together—Anne’s laced with brandy—and talked about the brilliance of Mr. Harley and how they were sure that given the opportunity he would rid the Queen—and the Church—of those whose self-interest made them the enemies of both.

Mr. Harley was right. Mobs were parading the streets demanding the fall of the Government. Sacheverel was the hero of the day and the majority were behind his criticisms of Godolphin. Many a widow and orphan of the great war hated the very sound of Marlborough’s name and did not hesitate to say so. He was the warmonger, who, because he liked playing soldiers, used men and deadly weapons to amuse himself. Not only that, he wanted to be the dictator. A fine state of affairs. There would be battles every day with such a man in power. This war had been costly enough in men and wealth. “Have done with Marlborough!” cried the people. “Have done with war! And down with the Government.”

When the Queen rode to the opening of Parliament that November the crowds cheered her frenziedly.

“Long live the Queen! God save Sacheverel!”

Anne smiled benignly and lovingly on her people; she was different, they noticed, sad and ill at ease. Why? Because she was on Sacheverel’s side. Because she, like themselves, was heartily sick of the Whig Ministry.

When she made her speech she sounded listless.

“She is telling us,” said those who listened, “that she is not with her Government in spirit and that she is merely performing a necessary duty.”

The writers were busy. They thrived on such occasions. All through the country people were alert, watchful of events. There was going to be change.

Mr. Harley with Mr. St. John and others among them were ready for the moment for which they had long been waiting.

Abigail reviewed the situation. She was certain that the Government would soon fall and that Robert Harley would replace Lord Godolphin as the Chief Minister. What a triumph for her!

Everything was going well for her. Sometimes she would lie in bed nursing her baby and telling herself that her life was more satisfying than Sarah Churchill’s. The fact was that Sarah would never be satisfied.

Samuel had come home from the war—different, more mature. She was not sure that this pleased her. Would he be less willing to be led? But temporarily it was a challenge. He was devoted to her and delighted by their child. They would have a boy, he said, next time.

Her brother Jack, quite a seasoned soldier now, was a friend of his; and she enjoyed seeing them together, particularly when Alice came too.

They were often in her apartments. Alice, of course, had been in attendance at the birth of little Anne. In attendance! Abigail mocked herself. I talk like a Queen.

But of course to be Queen’s favourite was next best to being a Queen.

Queen’s favourite! Little Abigail Hill—at the beck of and call of Lady Rivers, poor relation in the Churchill nursery—and now she could decide the fate of Sarah Churchill … and perhaps the country.

People were now beginning to realize her importance. When Alice and Jack came to see the baby she could sense the difference in their attitude towards her. They were in awe of her. As for Samuel, he was frankly proud.

They stood round the child’s cradle. Alice—getting even fatter—gurgled her pleasure; Jack was seated, for he had been wounded at the siege of Mons; and Samuel was beside Abigail, his hand on her shoulder.

“Such a little darling!” cooed Alice. “I’ll swear your mamma is planning a grand marriage for you.”

“What, already!” cried Samuel.

Abigail smiled at him. He was sentimental and the thought of losing a daughter so newly acquired even in marriage at some distant date appalled him.

“Oh come, Alice, there’s time enough for that,” said Abigail.

“But she’ll have a grand future I wouldn’t mind swearing,” insisted Alice. She stood up and looked at her sister admiringly. “You’ll see to that. And the Queen won’t deny you anything. I heard that said only yesterday.”