She came to see me at Kensington Palace because she had news which she thought was important and I should know.
When I was alone with her, she said: “The Princess Anne and the Churchills are writing to King James.”
“The Churchills! That can’t be true!!”
“I have heard them talking. The Earl of Marlborough is concerned in this. I heard Lady Marlborough telling the Princess what she should say to him. The Princess is writing to tell him that she is filled with remorse. She made a bitter mistake and craves his forgiveness. They want him to come back.”
“My sister ... I understand her remorse. I know how she feels. But Marlborough . . .”
“They have been angry, Your Majesty. They say Lord Marlborough is not appreciated, that the Dutch get all the best posts. They do not want to be ruled by Dutchmen. They say they want to bring King James back.”
I was astounded. I could not believe this. She had not heard correctly. How could she know this merely by listening at doors? If it were so, Lady Fitzharding would have discovered it. Then William would know.
“It seems,” said Mrs. Pack, “that their, plan is to bring back King James, although they would not let him reign. They would set the Princess Anne on the throne — and then, as you can guess, the Marlboroughs would rule through her.”
This amazed me, but I could see the reasoning behind it. It would be typical of the Marlboroughs.
But when Mrs. Pack had gone, I wondered again if it were plausible. Had she heard aright? I could not be sure.
But the Marlboroughs were disgruntled, and Anne was in leading strings. Marlborough might have decided that there was no hope for him under William. Here was one of the most ambitious men alive. He was not one to be set aside by anyone, even a monarch he had helped to the throne. My father had trusted him and it was in a large measure due to Marlborough that he had fallen, for when Marlborough had defected, he had taken a large part of the army with him. Surely he would never trust Marlborough again?
No, they would not want my father back. But Anne, that was a different matter. Sarah had Anne in thrall. Yes, it was reasonable. They would rule England through Anne because there was no hope of doing so through James.
Before I could speak to William of Mrs. Pack’s discovery, he came to me. He looked very grave.
He said: “I want that Churchill woman out of the Cockpit.”
“You have heard?” I asked.
He nodded. “And I want her out of the Princess Anne’s service without delay.”
“You have heard then of Marlborough’s plans?”
He looked startled, and I could not help saying that I was sure Lady Fitzharding would have passed on the news to her sister.
William looked faintly embarrassed. It was rarely that I spoke up so frankly. The approval of the people and their expression of it had made me bold.
I went on quickly: “The nurse, Mrs. Pack, does not like Lady Marlborough. She has told me what she believes to have overheard.”
He nodded again, not wishing, I was sure, to reveal the source of his information.
“You must talk with your sister,” he said. “Tell her that Lady Marlborough must leave her service.”
“And Marlborough?”
“I will deal with Marlborough.”
“Do you believe it is true that they are in communication with my father?”
“Yes.”
“He surely would not trust Marlborough.”
“He would be a fool if he did, but then he has done some foolish things. I think, though, he would see through this. The plan is to set Anne on the throne.”
I said: “The people like her and they love young William.”
“I believe they do not dislike you.”
I wished that I could say the same of him, but I could not. I was silent for a while, and then I said: “I cannot believe she will listen to me.”
“You are the Queen,” he said.
She will never give up Sarah Churchill.”
“Then she will be forced to. But explain to her. Talk to her. You are her sister.”
“It will be useless.”
“Try,” he said.
It was like a command.
* * *
IT WAS SOME TIME since I had been to the Cockpit. When I did go, it was usually to see little William.
Anne received me with some surprise.
“This is an honor, Your Majesty,” she said with mock respect. “I wonder to what I owe it?”
“I trust you are well,” I said.
“As I see you are, sister,” replied Anne.
She was lying back in her chair, and every time I saw her I thought she had added to her weight. I suppose I had done so too, but always beside Anne I felt almost slender.
“I have come to see you on a very important matter,” I went on.
“I guessed that was so. You rarely see me now.”
“And dear little William?”
Anne’s face softened. “He is adorable. He was in the park this morning, watching the soldiers. He saluted when they passed and they saluted him in return. He crowed with joy and you should have heard the people cheering.”
“He is very bright,” I said, and wished I could have gone on talking about the charm of our darling.
I said: “I have come to talk to you about Lady Marlborough.”
Anne looked a little startled — not exactly alert, but wary and less placid.
“I think it would be an advantage if she left your service.”
“Left my service! Sarah! Sarah has always been with me, right from the beginning. You remember those days when we were in Richmond ... when we were little.”
“Yes, I remember, but it seems that it would be better now if you dispensed with her services.”
“Why?”
I could not tell her what had been discovered. I must wait until William had dealt with Marlborough. Then Anne would understand. Perhaps I should have waited for that.
“I am of the opinion,” Anne was saying coolly, “that I am the best person to judge who shall and who shall not be in my household.”
“You allow her to guide you. She is the mistress here ... not you.”
“She never forgets that I am the Princess.”
“Mrs. Morley, Mrs. Freeman,” I reminded her.
“We always liked names. What about you and Frances Apsley?”
“We were young. This is different. Think of your position.”
“My position tells me that I should choose my own household.”
“It is obvious that that woman rules you. She gives herself airs such as I never saw before. She behaves as though she is the mistress.”
“Oh dear,” said Anne. “You are upsetting me. In my condition . . .”
She trailed off and watched me warily. Of course, she was enceinte. When was she not?
“The doctors said I should not excite myself,” she said plaintively. “They say I should rest more.”
“Rest more? How could you possibly do that? You are always resting. There would have to be more hours in the day for you to rest more.”
She took up her fan and feebly fanned herself.
“Oh dear,” she murmured.
I believed she was playacting, but I could not be sure, and as she had often attempted childbirth and the only result was little William, I dared not provoke her in any way.
I said to her: “Think about it.”
“I do not have to think about it,” she said. “Sarah is my greatest friend. I could not lose my greatest friend.”
“You have good friends. William and I have always been good friends to you.”
“Sarah has always been my greatest friend.”
“You are ungrateful.”
She looked at me coldly. “We could both be accused of that, could we not ... by some?”
She had put on a pious look, and I was sure now that she had written to our father. I wondered if she knew of the grand plan to put her on the throne.
If so, it did not disturb her; she would remain in her chair resting, while she nibbled her sweetmeats and handed over the power to the Marlboroughs.
She must have seen the hopelessness in my face, for she said: “I will never give up Sarah.”
There was nothing more I could do.
I took my leave and went back to Kensington.
The next morning, when Marlborough presented himself at the palace to perform his duties as one of the Lords of the Bedchamber, Lord Nottingham drew him aside and informed him that his services at court would no longer be required.
* * *
THERE WAS CONSTERNATION throughout the capital. The great Marlborough, dismissed from court, stripped of his appointments!
What could this mean?
The main theory was that he had been guilty of fraud. There had been occasional rumors that he had not been entirely scrupulous, and his love of money — as well as power — were well known.
I wondered what the reaction would have been if they had known he was suspected of conspiring against us and was in touch with my father.
It was all so distressing. I was filled with anxiety, and had been so ever since I became Queen.
I was anxious about William. If only he could win the people’s affections. My uncle had had that quality in abundance; my father had had it to some degree. If only he had not become a Catholic ... I was back to the old theme.
They were still talking about Glencoe and blaming William for it. William had doubtless acted carelessly, being at the time concerned with weightier matters. The fact was that he had signed that order hastily, without realizing what effect it would have. And the people were only too ready to lay the blame on him.
The Civil War in Scotland had continued even after the death of John Graham of Claverhouse, Viscount Dundee, known to his admirers as Bonnie Dundee. Some few months ago a proclamation had been issued to pardon all those who, by the end of the year, signed an oath to live peacefully under the government. MacIan of Glencoe, head of the MacDonald clan, went to Fort William to give the pledge, but finding there was no magistrate there, went on to give it at Inverary. It was a long journey; the roads were snowbound, and he did not get there until the sixth of January; and before he could sign the oath, the Campbells, the sworn enemies of the MacDonalds, taking advantage of the fact that the oath had not been signed, sent word to William that it would be right and proper, in the vindication of public justice, to extirpate that “set of thieves” who refused to obey the law. Knowing nothing of the reason for the delay in signing, William agreed and so gave his permission for the massacre of Glencoe, which was carried out in the most barbarous manner.
When this came to light through those who had escaped to tell the tale, William received as much of the blame as the bloodthirsty Campbells who had been responsible for the outrage. But, of course, the people seized on anything they could bring against a king they so much disliked.
The Marlborough scandal though was the topic which held everyone’s attention, and there were unscrupulous people who sought to turn it to advantage. I remembered how Queen Catherine had suffered through Titus Oates and his popish plot, and Titus Oates had made a fortune out of it. He had lost it in the end, it was true, but people who make such plans believe that they will be wiser and will profit from the experience of those who have gone before.
People were now talking about a man named Robert Young. He had uncovered a conspiracy. He said there was a plot to kill the King and Queen and bring James back and leading men in the country were involved in this. He had news of a certain document which they had all signed and which was hidden in the house of one of the conspirators — Thomas Sprat, Bishop of Rochester.
If they would search his house, they would find the incriminating paper hidden in a flowerpot — the Bishop’s hobby being gardening, this might not be as strange as it sounded.
It all seemed wildly incredible, but such accusations must be investigated and a search was made.
To the astonishment of all, the document Young described was found rolled up and hidden in a flowerpot. As Young said, it set out an intention to murder William and me and bring back my father. It was signed by a number of well-known men — among them Sprat himself, the Archbishop of Canterbury, Lord Salisbsury, Lord Cornbury — and Marlborough.
I do not believe much credence would have been given to the authenticity of the plot, had William not been waiting for an opportunity to put Marlborough under arrest, and he seized on this.
Marlborough was in the Tower.
I could imagine the fury at the Cockpit. Sarah would be frantic and Anne would share her grief and anguish.
William declared that Anne could no longer shelter Lady Marlborough and she must leave the Cockpit at once.
I wrote to Anne. I told her she must let Sarah go. It was not fitting that the wife of a man who was now a prisoner in the Tower should be in her service.”
Anne replied: “Your Majesty must be sensible enough of the kindness I have for Lady Marlborough to know that a command from you to part with her is the greatest mortification in the world to me, and indeed of such nature as I might well have hoped your kindness to me would have always prevented. There is no misery which would be greater than that of parting with Lady Marlborough.”
I was exasperated when I read this letter, and, as William had said that if Lady Marlborough did not leave the Cockpit then Anne herself could not stay there, the task fell to me to tell her to depart.
Anne prepared then to leave and fortunately the Duchess of Somerset offered to lend her Sion House.
Little William was staying at Kensington at the time, which gave me great pleasure, but Anne ordered that her son leave Kensington at once and accompany her to Sion House. I was desolate and William was really angry. He sent a command to Sion House demanding that Lady Marlborough leave without delay.
Anne’s obstinacy came into play. She would not give up Sarah. William was in a quandry. What could he do? Send guards to Sion House? Remove Sarah by force? How would Anne react to that? We all knew her stubborn nature, and with Sarah beside her, what mad act would she be capable of?
The people liked Anne. They loved the little Duke of Gloucester. Poor Anne, they would say. She cannot have whom she likes to attend her. The Dutchman must even decide on her servants. It could be a dangerous situation.
So it was allowed to pass, and Sarah stayed with Anne at Sion House.
THE PROPHECY
The mystery of what was called the flowerpot plot was solved without much difficulty. It proved to be preposterous and even more farcical than Titus Oates’s popish plot.
The perpetrator, Robert Young, had modeled himself on the famous Oates. He was, when it started, in Newgate Jail on a charge of bigamy. He called himself a priest and had documents to prove it, but Robert Young had no difficulty in providing documents to prove anything, because he was an expert forger.
Therefore, to produce the incriminating evidence against some of the most important people in the country, all of whom could be suspected of antagonism toward William, presented no difficulty to him at all. It was fairly easy for him to see signatures of these men, and all he had to do was study them for a while and produce replicas.
He wrote the document, but it had to be found before it could be of any use.
Stephen Blackhead was a fellow prisoner with a grievance against the State. He had been set in the pillory and badly treated, for he had lost one of his ears. He wanted revenge — no matter on whom — on someone rich and famous, someone who had everything while he, poor Blackhead, had nothing.
He was a simpleton, Young knew, but he was all he could get. Blackhead had served his time and was at liberty. Therefore he could work for Robert Young, who could promise him rewards for his labor such as the poor man had never had before.
It was quite simple. All Blackhead had to do was to take a letter to the house of the Bishop of Rochester in Bromley. He had had instructions, he would say, to
deliver it into the hands of the Bishop and no other. Young would also give him another paper which he must hide on his person and show to no one. If he did, there would be no money for him — only trouble. Everything depended on his doing exactly what Robert Young told him.
He would be put into a waiting room when he arrived and would certainly not be taken to the Bishop immediately. He must look around. The Bishop was noted for his interest in plants and there would be a great many of them in pots around his house.
While he was in the Bishop’s residence, Blackhead must find some means of slipping the document into a flowerpot, making sure that it was well hidden. Then he would hand the letter to the Bishop and depart.
Blackhead was not very bright, but he did need the money badly, and Robert Young had hinted that this action of theirs would bring disgrace to some very highly placed people — and that appealed to him.
Strangely enough, up to a point the plot succeeded. The letter to the Bishop — written of course in Young’s expert hand — was reputed to be from some nonexistent deacon of a faraway parish, and served its purpose, for the Bishop must have received many such letters — most of them left unanswered; and being left in a room which contained numerous flowerpots, Blackhead had no difficulty in disposing of the document.
When Young received word that it was safely in the Bishop’s house, it was time to act.
He disclosed the fact that he had heard that there was a plot to assassinate the King and Queen and set James on the throne. He announced that the Bishop of Rochester was involved and that in his house they would find the incriminating document, signed by all the conspirators.
The search was made and nothing found, but Robert Young said he was certain the paper was there and he was given permission to join the searchers. He knew exactly of course into which flowerpot Blackhead had placed it.
The Queen's Devotion: The Story of Queen Mary II Page 28