Kensington Palace in the days of Queen Mary II. A story, etc

Front matter

Kensington Palace IN THE DATS OF QUEEN MART II. A STORY BY EMMA MARSHALL AUTHOR OF * UNDER SALISBURY SPIKE,' ' PENSHURST CASTLE,' ETC. ' Bring me a constant woman, And to that woman when she has done most, Yet will I add an honour— a great patience.' Shakespeare, Henry VIII. With Illustrations LONDON SEELEY AND CO. LIMITED Essex Street, Strand PREF A CE An attempt has been made in this story of two hundred years ago to present Queen Mary the Second in a somewhat different light from that in which she has been generally seen. Her short life, crowded as it was with startling events, unexampled difficulties and conflicting interests, was characterised by a patience, courage and ability as a Sovereign, which shine out on the page of English history. I am indebted chiefly to the ' Lettres et Mdmoires de Marie, Reine d'Angleterre,' edited by the Comtesse Bentinck, published in 1886; and to 'Memoirs of Mary, Queen of England,' edited by Dr R. Doebner, and published in 1886.

It is impossible to read these letters and memoirs without feeling that the opinion of the Comtesse Bentinck is fully justified. I venture to quote the closing words of her introduction to the Memoirs : —

Preface

IV ' Qu'il me soit encore permis, avant de terminer, d'exprimer une opinion personelle formed en lisant les lettres et les memoires de la Reine Marie. On lui a amerement reprochd son indifference et sa durete envers son pere, le malheureux Roi ddtrone Jacques II. ' II me semble qu'apres avoir appris a. la mieux connaitre dans ses Merits, on la jugera avec plus d'indulgence a cause des deux motifs elev^s qui ont rdgi toutes ses actions — son amour pour le Roi son mari, et son entier denouement a la cause protestante en Europe.' The incidents in the life of the little Duke of Gloucester, are gathered from a book, entitled Queen Anne's Son, reprinted from a tract published in 1789, and edited by the Rev. W. J. Loftie. This pathetic history of child-life is told in simple words by the Duke's faithful friend and servant, Jenkin Lewis. The characters which surround the chief per sonages in this story are wholly imaginary. Woodside, Leigh Woods, Clifton, July 31, 1S94. CONTENTS

Book I Page

I. A MEETING ...... 3 II. MEDITATION ...... 20 III. SIR REDVERS BROOKE'S HOME .... 37 IV. IN THE WOOD ...... 53 V. IN WEAL AND IN WOE ..... 75 VI. A LIGHT HEART LIVES LONG .... 102

Book II VII

IN THE PRESENCE OF THE QUEEN . . .121 VIII. THE SISTERS' MEETING ..... I46 IX. EASTERTIDE ...... 168 X. QUINQUAGESIMA SUNDAY . . . . 1S9 XI. DISMISSED ...... 219 XII. FOR WEAL AND FOR WOE .... 254

Book III XIII

BY THE RIVER SIDE ..... 289 XIV. PASSING AWAY ...... LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS PAGE QUEEN MARY II. AFTER VANDERVAART . . Frontispiece KENSINGTON PALACE FROM THE SOUTH . . .10 OLD KENSINGTON CHURCH ..... 102 KENSINGTON PALACE FROM THE WEST . . . 146 KENSINGTON GARDENS ...... 170 OLD WHITEHALL FROM ST JAMES'S PARK . . . 202 KENSINGTON PALACE FROM THE EAST . . . 234 CAMPDEN HOUSE ...... 3°6

Book I

' As leaves on trees the race of man is found, Now green in youth, now withering on the ground.' 'Leaves, too, are the echoes of praise and censure and silent blame and reproach. All these matters, like leaves, have their spring for growing. Then a puff of wind sends them packing, and quickly after the wood is new furnished again. ' Things are strangely short-lived, and yet you fear and pursue them as if all were everlasting.' — From Meditations of Marcus Aurelius. {Translated by Alice Zimmern.) A ■0

Chapter I

A MEETING It was a July day in 1690, when a tall man, who had passed middle age, was turning away from the palace of Whitehall, with slow and lingering steps. His face was lined with care perhaps more than from age, and his whole bearing was that of a man who had his full share of the sorrows and disappointments of life. Presently he paused, as if uncertain what to do next, when a younger man, coming behind him, clapped him on the shoulder and exclaimed, — ' Sir Redvers Brooke, as I live ! Come at last to pay your respects to Queen Mary ? ' ' Ay ; and it seems I might have spared my pains, for to-day at least. I have travelled many a long mile to have the honour of kissing Her Majesty's hand, and hear that she is not at Whitehall.' ' Not to-day, nor to-morrow, maybe ; but she will return soon enough.

Her Majesty is at Kensington, looking after the improvements there.' ' Kensington ? I do not take your meaning, Rodney. What ! is Her Majesty visiting my Lord Nottingham ? ' ' Well, I see you are behindhand in news, Sir Redvers. Turn in with me to my chambers in the Temple, and I will do my best to enlighten you. You look weary enow ; a cup of good wine will not come amiss.' And Charles Rodney put his hand within Sir Redvers Brooke's arm, who was too tired to resist or refuse the invitation. When Sir Redvers had refreshed himself by stretching his tired legs on a comfortable settle, and had drunk a good draught of excellent wine, he said more cheerfully, — ' Now, then, Charles, give me the news which has not reached my home in Somersetshire.' ' Well, you know the King is absent in Ireland ? ' ' Yes, I know so much, for my son Geoffrey is with King James.' ' The King was sorely tried with asthma and cough before his departure ; he vows it is London which increases his malady.

Thus he has been oftener than was convenient at Hampton Palace. The distance, A^MEETING 5 at a time when perpetual cabals are springing up, has been found an objection and a hindrance. My Lord Nottingham offered to sell Kensington House for a goodly sum — some say thirty thousand pounds, some say less.' ' It sounds to a poor man like me an enormous sum. Thirty thousand pounds ! Sure, there are houses enow for the King to live in without adding another.' ' Many think the same ; but the Treasury granted the sum without reluctance, so it is said. In good sooth, there is a general feeling that anything that can be done must be done to keep the King in health. He is as a sealed book to most folk, and it cannot be said wins love ; but he is trusted, and it is felt that he has saved the country from going headlong to ruin.

We are not out of the wood yet. Ireland, as ever, is a sore trouble. The King, as you well know, is there now, and has gained a great victory at the Boyne ; but how things will work, God only knows. The Queen is left with full authority here, and is taking all hearts by storm. She has a wondrous pretty way with her, and pleases everyone by receiving those who may have been adverse to her husband's cause, who come to give in their allegiance to her as their sovereign lady and to William as King of this realm.' That is good hearing for me, Charles, for, as you know, I have a divided household, and have had to bear much for holding fast to what I believe in my heart is the right cause.' 'Ah ! madam is staunch as ever, then ! ' Sir Redvers sighed ' Ay, and carries her point with some of the young ones ; not all.

It is hard for a man to go against his own mother, and I make all fitting ex cuse for mine, whose early days were saddened and blighted by the tragedy of forty odd years ago, and who saw her kindred reduced to penury in the time of the Protectorate. If my wife had lived my home would have been peaceful. She was a maintainer of peace, and Margery follows in her steps. Even her grandmother can scarce say harsh words to her and to poor David. As to the rest, it is for ever a war of words. Diana and Isabel keep up a civil feud between them, helped thereto by Roger Payne, my ward. My brave son Geoffrey has left me, as you know, to take up arms for King James.' ' Unhappy divisions, public and private,' Charles said. ' There are many such. In high quarters there is dissension, which is to be deplored.

If any two sisters should hold to each other, surely it is the two daughters of the late King, but silence is safety in these times ; one never knows with any certainty which way the wind blows.' ' Now about your attendance on the Queen ? She is graciously pleased to see those who desire it after the dinner at Kensington. There is less crowd there ; and what say you to presenting your self to her this very afternoon ? Where have you left your horse and man ? ' ' At a hostel in Piccadilly — that is to say, I have left my horse there. I have no man in attendance — money is too scarce to allow any cost that may be avoided. ' I was thinking,' Charles Rodney said, not without a little hesitation, ' that you may desire a change of suit before seeking an audience.' Sir Redvers laughed. ' I am but a shabby, country fellow, I know full well.

I covered my jerkin and breeches with my long riding coat. In good sooth, I have only the clothes I stand in.' Then, touching his sleeve with one hand, he said, — ' The jerkin is of good velvet, and the lining of the cape is, if worn, of the best. Margery mended the lace at my neck and cuffs, and the bows at my knees and that at my sword-belt were her ribands. No, Rodney, Her Majesty must take me as I am, in my old suit, and, let me tell you, a true heart beats under the well-worn velvet which, like its wearer, has seen its best days. I am not ashamed of poverty.' KENSLNGTON PALACE 8 Charles Rodney coloured with vexation ; not for the world would he have touched a tender place in his old friend's heart. ' I was a fool to cavil at your coat — may hearts beat as true under grander outward guise than yours.

Forgive me.' Sir Redvers gave Charles Rodney's hand a fervent shake as he said, ' Do you think I could quarrel with you, Charles, whom I have carried on my shoulder many a time to watch the herons in the wood behind the Valley Manor. But on the strength of this old friendship I will tell you my errand to London is not only to do homage to Her Majesty. I hear she is a good mistress to serve, and I would fain beg her favour for my Margery. It is bitter to me to see her young life troubled by dissensions, and Diana gives her but little peace. Then, there is Roger Payne, Isabel's suitor, and a seeming Jacobite, and often scoffing at David. If I find the Queen is what all say she is, I shall venture to ask the favour at her hands. It may be she will remember how my father fought for her grandfather, and laid down his life for him at Newbury.' ' You may rely on getting a kindly hearing from the Queen,' Charles Rodney said ; ' but let us dine now at a house near by, and then we will ride or walk to Kensington as it pleases you, and try our luck.

If we gain admittance it will be the better for you, for the coming and going at Whitehall is bewildering, and there is so much jostling and effort to be first and to win favour, that many of the quieter sort go away chagrined and disappointed.' ' Take heart, Sir Redvers, you are sure to succeed ; no one who ever looked on Mistress Margery could refuse her aught.' ' But Her Majesty will needs have to take her on her father's word, Charles, remember that.' ' I will venture to put in a word to endorse what you say ; and you know well my views,' was the reply. ' Now let us go and fortify ourselves for our ride to Kensington. The country will be sweet after the hot turmoil of the town. There is a fine park stretched out before Kensington House, with many noble trees, and report says the house will be transformed into a palace by the Queen's efforts, for she goes her self, as to-day, to superintend the work of masons and carpenters and painters.

The King's whim is that if he lies at Kensington on his return from Ireland he shall escape the oppression of the City and breathe more freely in an unpolluted air.' ' Verily there is not much chance of salubrity at Whitehall, though it is only of late anyone has taken much heed of unsavoury odours.' KENS ING TON PALACE 10 Queen Mary found the calm and retirement at Kensington so welcome that she remained there for several days. She had lately passed through much anxiety and distress of mind, and the news of the victory at the Boyne had scarcely allayed her fears for William's safety. The first report was that the King was mortally wounded ; then came the more reassuring news that the wound was slight, that her father had escaped unhurt to France, and that, although there was yet grave tumult in Ireland, William had ridden in great state to the cathedral of Dublin, and had there returned public thanks for the victory of the Boyne, and the discomfiture of the enemies of the Protestant faith.

It was on this July evening, when the long shadows of the stately trees were thrown across the close shaven turf, that the Queen was walking with slow and measured steps, pausing now and again to listen to the song of a late thrush, or watching the deepening hues of the sunset sky seen at the end of the long vista before her, which suggested to her the gates of the Golden City, where all strife and bitterness and ill - will and falsehood could never enter. Mary had dismissed her ladies and attendants, and, in reply to their inquiries, had said that she KENSINGTON PALACE, FROM THE SOUTH. A MEETLNG 11 should not return to Whitehall till the following morning. This decision had not been very well received, for the accommodation provided at Kensington was very far from being complete, and Mary's whole mind was given to have the King's orders carried out, that he might find his rooms as he desired on his return.

Mary was at this time in the prime of her woman hood, and there was an indescribable charm in her voice and manner. Her whole bearing was queenly, and yet she had the power of throwing aside all traces of depression and anxiety, and very few of those about her knew what she had suffered in the agony of fear for her husband's safety, and the terrible dread lest her father should actually meet him in battle. This fear had been groundless. James had taken good care of himself, and had, so it was said, returned to France with anything but the depressed air of a vanquished King, whose cause was now nearly hopeless. Mary's meditations were interrupted by the appear ance of one of her ladies. ' Well,' she said, turning somewhat sharply upon her, ' what now ? More complaints of the smell of paint, and the hardship of lying another night at Kensington ?' ' Nay, madam, your Majesty is mistaken.

I come to make no complaint, but to ask you if it pleases you to grant an audience in the hall to two gentle men. The elder is Sir Redvers Brooke, from the County of Somersetshire.' 'Why this haste? Nay, to-morrow at Whitehall will suit me. Return, Mistress Crawfurd, with this message. I — ' But Mistress Crawfurd lingered ' Sir Redvers looks sad and worn. He is accompanied by one of your Majesty's faithful subjects, Master Rodney of the Temple. I pray you, do not refuse the request.' ' If I grant it, there will be more invading this quiet retreat whither I resort for peace.' Mistress Crawfurd made her curtsey and retreated, but before she had gone many steps the Queen recalled her. ' I will come to the hall, and the gentlemen may await me there. Methinks I recall the name of Red vers Brooke as one who met the King at Exeter, and gave in his allegiance.

Yes, I will see him, but re member, Crawfurd, it is not a precedent for the future — certainly not till the palace is ready for occupation.' Mistress Crawfurd hastened away to prepare Sir Redvers for the interview. Mary was very careful to keep up the dignity of her position in the absence of the King, and on her entering the house she seated herself on a raised dais in the hall, which had been covered with crimson velvet ; and when Sir Redvers was ushered in by Charles Rodney, he felt somewhat awed, and inwardly regretted that he had taken his friend's advice and come to Kensington. Mary did not smile at first, but sat with her hands folded on her fan, and acknowledged Charles Rodney's low bow with a very stately inclination of her head. The very high head-dress which she wore above the tiers of her shining chestnut hair gave her additional height, and added to the dignity which had struck the honest old country gentleman with something very like fear.

But soon a smile rippled over the Queen's face as Charles Rodney said, — ' Sir Redvers Brooke has ridden from Somerset shire for the express purpose of doing your Majesty homage. He was one of the first of his county to join in the welcome which all lovers of liberty and free dom from the thraldom of Rome, were so ready to accord His Majesty, and none more ready than Sir Redvers Brooke.' And now Mary's natural kindness of heart asserted itself. She saw at a glance that the worthy knight before her had passed through rough places in his life's journey. With the quick perception which is said to be a royal gift, Mary saw the worn doublet, the frayed satin of the cape, the mended lace at the neck and sleeves. She saw, too, the lines of care on the fine countenance, and the tremulous motion of the hand which held the velvet cap and plume, as at her bidding Sir Redvers advanced, and kneeling be fore her, said, in simple language which appealed at once to her, — ' I come, madam, to say that what poor service I can render to you and His Majesty the King is yours, and that I thank Almighty God for His good ness in placing the grand-daughter of the blessed King and martyr, for whom my father died, on the throne of this realm.' Mary was touched at once.

She held out both hands to Sir Redvers, and said, — ' I am right glad to know we have so good and true a knight, and I thank Master Rodney for bringing you here, where there is respite from the crowds who fill the halls and chambers of our palace at Whitehall' Then, rising, she said, ' The evening is so fair ; suppose we hear further what you can tell me in the park ? Then I shall bid you to sup with such of my house hold as are in attendance, while I retire early for the rest I need after a time of deep anxiety and suspense now happily, in part, over.' As the Queen spoke she led the way to the park, one of her ladies following with a mantle which she threw over her mistress, saying, — ' After the heat of the day the dew falls heavy, and your Majesty is too prone to catch a rheum.' ' Thanks, good Crawfurd, you are ever on the side of care.

And now, Sir Redvers, it will please me to listen to your story, if, indeed, you have aught to tell.' The Queen turned her lustrous eyes full upon Sir Redvers, and added, — ' I fear me you have had your share of the troubles of the late troublous times.' ' My gracious Queen,' Sir Redvers began, ' my story has, I doubt not, many to match it. I need not go far into the past. My father fell at Newbury when I was but an infant, my mother left a widow of scarce seventeen summers. The tragedy enacted at White hall left a mark on many lives, followed as it was by the utter ruin of those who refused to acknowledge the usurper. Our goods were seized, and our homes left desolate. Then, on the return of our lawful King, it was my happiness to wed one who brought me a maintenance, and my mother returned with us to our old home under the Exmoor hills.

My angel wife blessed me with her presence for a few short years, leaving me with five children — two sons and three daughters — when she took her flight to the Heaven for which she was more fitted than for earth.' ' But,' Sir Redvers said, ' I crave pardon for entering into these details.' 'Nay — if pardon be needed, it is granted — let me hear more. Surely your loyalty was rewarded by my uncle, King Charles the Second ? ' ' He dubbed me knight with a score of others,' was the reply ; ' but — once more pardon me, madam, if I am too bold — the Court was no place for me, and the first sharp dissension I ever had with my mother came from my refusing to allow my wife to frequent it — rather, I should say, I strengthened her in her determination never to lend herself to what was openly carried on there.

My mother was, and is blindly devoted to the cause of the late King, your father.' ' And your children, do they favour Romish doctrine and sway?' The Queen said this hastily, before Sir Redvers could go further with his story. In all sincerity, whatever else is said to the contrary, Mary believed that the deliverance of the kingdom from the oppression of the Roman Church, and the tyranny and injustice with which her father had tried to force his faith upon the people, was a sufficient reason for her husband's acceptance of the invitation given him to come to England and occupy the throne from which James was to be driven. No one can read Mary's letters, published for the first time some eight or ten years ago, with out feeling that her position was a most painful one, and that her religion was not only a profession, but a great reality.

Sir Redvers noticed the change in her voice, and a certain hauteur of manner as she repeated, — ' Have your children, as well as their grandmother, declared themselves on the side of the King, my father.' 'Madam,' Sir Redvers said, 'our home is divided against itself, and there follows bitterness and strife, where all should be harmony and peace. One of my children, a maiden of scarce sixteen years, suffers greatly from the fact that she is on the side of the great deliverance wrought by His Majesty the King, your husband. I could fain remove her from the scene of discord, and I come as a suppliant to your Majesty for this child Margery. To be in your household and serve you would be a blessed thing for her. Her brother, my youngest son, is crippled, and he, too, is on the rightful side. My eldest son has cast in his lot with the late King, and my ward, Roger Payne, cares but little for either party or anything touching religion.

But Diana, my eldest daughter, is at one with her grandmother, and I cannot shut my eyes to the fact that Margery B suffers much from her. Her sister Isabel holds a neutral ground, takes first one side and then the other, as the fit is on her, and is merry and light hearted as a bird. It is for Margery that I plead. If you can permit her to take a humble place amongst your ladies, you will confer on me a wondrous great favour. I dare not say of her what you would deem only a father's partiality, and not to be trusted.' ' I will grant your request, good Sir Redvers ; nor do I think I shall have cause to regret it. This other wavering daughter of yours — you call Isabel, it may be that my sister, the Princess of Denmark, will find a place for her in her house hold. It might serve to settle her on the rightful side.

The Princess is watching with a mother's anxiety over her little son, the Duke of Gloucester, and a young, bright creature such as you describe may win favour. But I make no promise for my sister. I will see her and broach the subject. How long do you remain in London ? I am expecting with joy the King's return, and you may like to tender your allegiance to him for the second time. Now I must leave you ; I sup in my own chamber, but I bid you and Master Rodney welcome to the board spread for the household. Let us see you at Whitehall on the day but one after this, and I will then speak more de cidedly.' Then the Queen turned to go into the house, saying, as she passed Charles Rodney, — ' See that your friend makes a good supper, and attend at Whitehall with him on the day I have appointed.

I wish you both good even.' The two men bent low as the Queen passed them with a smile and a wave of her hand, and vanished in the shadows of the hall, the door of which opened on the park.

Chapter II Meditation

The Queen made her way through the debris left by the workmen to the stairs leading to the suite of rooms she was so anxious to get in good order before the return of her husband. The rooms, now deseited and forlorn, still show by the monogram W.M. on the oak cornice or frieze, which runs round the ceiling, that they were once inhabited by the husband and the wife, who passed from them in the prime of her days, through the valley of the shadow of death, to a more lasting inheritance, which was never to fade away. Mary had been harassed with the business of the State, which she found a very heavy responsibility', and a letter from the King complaining that the work had gone on very slowly, both at Hampton Palace and Kensington, had much disturbed her. Want of money the Queen pleaded, as well as want of time, as the cause of delay.

JO M EDIT A TION 21 One of her ladies followed her to the room, and remonstrated with her for attempting to lie in such an unfinished apartment. ' It serves well enough,' was the reply. ' The King must occupy it, and, as for me, I must do as best I can. I can dress in the council-room, and get my Lord Portland to accommodate me — ' ' Your Majesty thinks too little of your own con venience, so I say to those who are grumbling below. Let them grumble, say I, and take a lesson from your Majesty to guide them when they are wedded wives, if ever such they be.' ' Ah ! that reminds me, Crawfurd, that I have all but promised to take another maiden to learn what she can, and make herself useful. One Margery Brooke ! ' I was moved by the story her father told me of the division in his household. He is true and loyal, and I would fain help him by this means.

I shall see my sister on the morrow, as I take it she will appear at the ball at Whitehall, and I shall try to persuade her to take into her service another daughter of this worthy knight to amuse the infant, who is to be established at Camp den House. Forsooth, Craven House was big enow for such a small personage, but naught would please his mother but she must pay an enormous rental to the guardian of young Noel, to whom the house belongs. Have you heard aught of this, Crawfurd ? ' Mistress Crawfurd had shrewd suspicions that the Princess and the Queen were at this time only keep ing up the show of friendship ; but she was a discreet woman, and merely replied, — ' I trust it will be for the benefit of his little highness that he should be remo\ed siom Craven House. His life hangs on a slender thread.' ' Does it ? ' the Queen said abruptly. ' I know naught of babes and their ailments.

Leave me now, Crawfurd, I must betake myself to my reading and prayers. ' I pray your Majesty may rest well. I shall have a shake-down in the next chamber, and be ready to answer your call should you need aught in the night.' When her waiting-woman was gone, the Queen seated herself at a table, and opening her Bible, bent her head in prayer, that she might find counsel in the Word of Life. Troubles and anxieties bristled like thorns along her path, and she threw backward glances to her life at the Hague, with that sort of lingering love with which we are all prone to cast a roseate halo over the past, forgetting that it, too, had its trials, which time and distance have obliterated. All great changes in life seem to lengthen the time that has elapsed since those events happened MEDLTA TION 23 which altered the circumstances in which we find, ourselves. ' Can it be only three years,' the Queen thought, ' since we were at the Hague, with no desires for greater things, with no visions of the crown, which, ah, me ! presses heavily on my brow ? ' Can I be the same woman who, surrounded by friends at Loo, or in the Orange Chamber, was so gay and gladsome? ' Too gay, too neglectful of my duty towards God as the good Bishop Ken reminded me.