CHAPTER XII.

WILLIAM HENRY, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER.

From our childhood up we have all heard of "Good Queen Anne." When we were small tots in the nursery we sang little rhymes about

Queen Anne, Queen Anne, she sat in the sun. I send you three letters, you don't read one.

Then as we grew older we succumbed more or less to the rage for the eighteenth century which has laid hold on so large a section of English and Americans during the last few years. And we began to use Queen Anne's name in season and out of season--to talk glibly of Queen Anne architecture, Queen Anne furniture, and Queen Anne plate. The subject is doubtless an interesting one. And I for one am grateful to Queen Anne--or rather to the architects of her reign. Those stately red brick houses of her time, though they are far less graceful than Elizabethan mansions, and less romantic than the French chateaux of the same period with their high roofs, and charming tourelles with extinguisher tops, are among the most comfortable, homelike, lovable dwelling-places we can find in England.

The plate too of Queen Anne's reign is justly esteemed as the handsomest and richest that can be found. As I write a bit of veritable Queen Anne plate stands beside me on the table--a graceful little candlestick five inches high, of plain, solid silver. No need to look at its Hall-mark, or puzzle over its history; for the only ornament on its foot is an open-work pattern formed of roughly cut letters, "Queen Anne. 1702"; and on the rim above is engraved "His Highness Prince George. S.^{L}S. Anno Dom. 1702."

The candlestick was a present from Queen Anne on her coronation, to a certain old ancestress of ours, who had been one of the ladies in attendance on the Queen's young son, William Henry, Duke of Gloucester--the only one of her numerous children who lived beyond his babyhood.

This little boy, the last of our children of Westminster Abbey, was born on July 24, 1689. It was a memorable year in the history of England, for it had seen the great and bloodless revolution by which James the Second had been driven from Great Britain, and William the Third put on the throne. The misgovernment of James had become unbearable; and William, Prince of Orange, who had married the king's eldest daughter Mary, was invited "by a small party of ardent Whigs to assist in preserving the civil and religious liberties of the nation." William and Mary accepted the Declaration of Right, and were crowned as joint sovereigns on April 11, 1689. They had no children. So when Princess Anne, the Queen's sister, and wife of Prince George of Denmark, gave birth to her little boy in the following July, he was welcomed as the future King of England.

King William and the King of Denmark were the baby's godfathers. The marchioness of Halifax was his godmother. Queen Mary adopted him as her heir; and the king conferred upon him the title of Duke of Gloucester: but he was not created Duke "because his mother considered that title dreadfully unlucky."

But at first it seemed highly improbable that the poor child would live long. He was delicate from his birth--very small--and for two months his death was constantly expected. The doctors advised an incessant change of nurses; and the wretched baby, as was to be expected, grew weaker and weaker. At last, however, a fine-looking young Quakeress, a Mrs. Pack, with a month-old baby in her arms, came up from Kingston to tell the Princess Anne of a remedy which had done her children good. The Prince of Denmark besought her to become wet-nurse to the suffering little prince; and from that moment the unfortunate child began to thrive.

Then came the question of the most healthy residence for the baby on whom so much depended. And Princess Anne at length chose Lord Craven's fine house at Kensington Gravelpits, which he offered to lend her for the little prince's nursery. He went out every day, no matter how cold it was, in a tiny carriage which the Duchess of Ormonde presented to him. The horses were in keeping with the size of the carriage; for they were a pair of Shetland ponies "scarcely larger than good-sized mastiffs," and were guided by Dick Drury, the Prince of Denmark's coachman.

The first two or three years of the little Duke of Gloucester's life were spent between Lord Craven's house at Kensington, and London. For in those days Kensington was a country village, out in the woods and fields. West of Mayfair there were no houses until Kensington was reached on the breezy slopes of Camden Hill. South Kensington, that vast quarter of handsome houses, has only come into existence in the last fifty years. The writer's grandfather was laughed at for going "out of town," when he and his old friend, Lord Essex, built themselves two of the first houses in Belgrave Square about 1830. And one of his sons-in-law, when a lad at Westminster School early in the century, remembers snipe-shooting in the marshes which separated Chelsea from London.

The Princess Anne and the queen were on exceedingly bad terms, the chief reason of their disagreement being Anne's passionate devotion to the famous Sarah Jennings, wife of the yet more famous Duke of Marlborough. The Marlboroughs, a clever, able, ambitious, unscrupulous pair, encouraged the jealousy between the sisters to secure their own ends, and at length formed a "Princess's party," which gave William the Third considerable trouble during his reign. The Queen insisted that Lady Marlborough, as she then was, should be dismissed from the Princess's service. Anne was equally determined to keep her beloved friend about her at all risks. This led to endless disputes and quarrels between the royal ladies; and the little Duke of Gloucester became a fresh subject of contention. When she was in town,

the Princess, who was a tender mother, passed much of her time in the nursery of her heir.... Whenever the Queen heard her sister was there she forebore to enter the room, but would send an inquiry or a message to her royal nephew--"a compliment," as it was called in the phraseology of the day. The set speech used to be delivered by the queen's official in formal terms to the unconscious infant, as he sat on his nurse's knee; and then the courtly messenger would depart, without taking the slightest notice of the Princess Anne, although she was in the room with her child. Sometimes Queen Mary sent her nephew rattles or balls, or other toys, all which were chronicled in the _Gazette_ with great solemnity; but every attention to the little Gloucester was attended with some signal impertinence to his mother.[109]

For two years the little boy throve well in the good air of Kensington, without any illness. But in the third year he was attacked by ague. Fifty years before he would probably have been bled and reduced in every way, and would speedily have died. But medical science was improving; and a wonderful discovery had been made in far-off Peru. The ague was cured by Doctor Radcliffe and Sir Charles Scarborough, "who prescribed the Jesuit's Powder, of which the Duke took large quantities early in the spring of 1694, for the same complaint most manfully."[110]

This Jesuit's Powder was none other than the famous Peruvian Bark, made as we all know from the bark of the Chinchona trees, so-called by Linnæus after the Countess of Chincon, wife of the Viceroy of Peru. This lady's cure in 1638 from a desperate fever, brought the quinine--the "bark-of-barks" as its Indian name signifies--into notice, and gave the world one of the most precious remedies we possess against disease.

This ague was the first, but by no means the last illness our poor little boy had to endure; for all through his short life he was delicate.

His faithful attendant, Jenkin Lewis, a young man who was tenderly attached to him, has left us a most interesting memoir of the young prince. And from this we get charming details of his daily life, his many illnesses, and his character.

When first he began to walk about and speak plain, he fancied he must be of all trades; one day a carpenter, another day a smith, and so on; which the queen observing sent him a box of ivory tools, said to cost twenty-five pounds, which he used till he learnt the names of them, and also the terms of those mechanical arts.[111]

But from his infancy the little duke began to show his passion for horses, drums, and anything to do with soldiers. In 1693, when he was only four years old, he threw away childish toys, saying he was a man and a soldier. And he had up from Kensington village a little company of twenty-two boys, wearing paper caps and armed with wooden swords, who enlisted themselves as his guard. The duke was enchanted; and appointed a very pretty boy, Sir Thomas Lawrence's son, to be lieutenant. This little army was his constant delight. In a short time the child gained a real knowledge of military matters; and before long he began to use his bodyguard to some purpose. In 1694, seeing how active he was, and that "his stiff-bodied coats were very troublesome to him in his military amusements," the Prince and Princess put him into breeches on Easter Day.

His suit was a white camblet, with silver loops, and buttons of silver thread. He wore stiff stays under his waistcoat, which hurt him; whereupon, Mr. Hughes, his taylor, was sent for; when he came the duke bade his boys (whom he stiled his Horse Guards) put the taylor on the wooden horse, which stood in the presence-room for the punishment of offenders, as is usual in martial law: who presently were for hoisting him on, if they had had strength enough.[112]

It must have been an absurd scene. The little duke, not five years old, in his first pair of breeches, long waistcoat of white and silver, and coat with wide skirts and handsome, deep-cuffed sleeves--the bodyguard of small rogues setting on their victim--and the hapless tailor, who was so genuinely alarmed at these violent proceedings, that good-natured Jenkin had to beg him off.

A year or two later we find the duke going down to Kensington Palace, where he ordered his boys--now two companies numbering ninety in all, armed with wooden swords and muskets, and in red grenadiers' caps--to exercise in the garden before the king and queen. The king was delighted; and gave the young soldiers twenty guineas, besides two gold pieces which he presented to one of them, William Gardner, who beat the drum "equal to the ablest drummer." The next day, Sunday, the king sent word he was coming to visit his nephew. This was a great occasion, as the king very seldom came to see him. The duke prepared a pasteboard fortification, and got his four little brass cannon ready; and when the king arrived the boy was so engrossed in shewing him that he could salute him like a soldier and afterwards "compliment him," that he could not be persuaded to thank His Majesty first for coming. He fired his cannon, and he

then talked to the king of horses and arms, and thanked him of his own accord for the honor he did him in coming to see him. He told the king that one of his cannon was broke; the king promised to send him some cannon, but never did; the duke thanked him and complimented him in these words--"My dear king, you shall have both my companies with you to Flanders," where the king was to go soon after.[113]

All his talk was of wars, soldiers, and fortifications.

He was scarce seven years old when he understood the terms of fortification and navigation, knew all the different parts of a strong place, and a ship of war, and could marshall a company of boys, who had voluntarily listed themselves to attend him.... He had a particular aversion to dancing and all womanish exercises, his whole delight being in martial sports and hunting.[114]

Even when he was ill in bed he insisted on having his cannon drawn up in his sight, and made his servant stand sentinel at his door as in a fortress. The faithful Jenkin told him stories of Alexander and Cæsar, and on the sly studied the art of fortification, in order to teach the young duke more about it. But this was discovered by Lady Fitz Hardinge, who was the queen's spy in Princess Anne's household. Jenkin Lewis was threatened with instant dismissal if he ventured again to instruct the boy in matters with which he had no concern; and he was obliged regretfully to put away his fortification books. But he found a more allowable diversion in putting some of the young duke's words of command into verse, and had them set to music by Mr. John Church, "one of the gentlemen of Westminster Abbey, who had studied Mr. Henry Purcel's works and imitated his manner." It was not very grand poetry, but the little soldier was delighted. It begins--

Hark! hark! the hostile drum alarms; Let ours now beat and call to arms!

In 1696, after the discovery of the Rye House Plot, loyal addresses were offered to the king by both Houses of Parliament, and an association was formed to preserve King William or avenge his death, which was very generally signed throughout the kingdom. The Duke of Gloucester and his boys were eager to follow the public example. The duke composed an address which one of his boys wrote down as follows:

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.

(_Signed_) GLOSTER.

He also dictated one for his boys and his household to sign, which was much to the point, and ran thus:

We, your Majesty's dutiful subjects, will stand by you as long as we have a drop of blood.

The prince and his boys were closely associated in all their pursuits and interests. Not only did they study the art of war, but they were catechised together by Mr. Prat, the duke's first tutor. The child had been carefully instructed in religion from his infancy. "He had early suck'd in his mother's piety," says one writer, "and was always attentive to prayers." One day in the catechising, Mr. Prat asked him before his boys, "How can you, being born a prince, keep yourself from the pomps and vanities of this world?" And the little fellow made the simple and straightforward answer, "I will keep God's commandments, and do all I can to walk in his ways."

He was a pretty boy. Something like his royal mother in her younger days; for she is described as a "sylph-like creature" when a girl, though she afterwards grew to be the mountain of fat we know in most of her portraits. His face was oval; and for the most part glowed with a fine colour. His shape was fine, his body easy, and his arms finely hung.[115]

His disposition was naturally a sweet one; and he was admirably loyal to his friends and attendants, always willing to take blame himself rather than allow another to be scolded. But his weak health, a strong will, and a hot temper made him liable to fits of passion in which he lost all control over himself. Jenkin Lewis describes some of these outbursts of fury, and one in particular when he was the object of the prince's wrath. Jenkin quietly turned him round to the looking-glass, so that the boy might see what a shocking spectacle he was making of himself. Whereupon his passion fell as quickly as it had risen. He grew calm upon seeing himself, and expressed his sorrow.

When he was nine years old, the king appointed Bishop Burnet to be his preceptor, and the Duke of Marlborough to be his governor.

The Bishop writes two years later, that he had made "amazing progress." They had read together the Psalms, Proverbs and Gospels, and the bishop had explained things that fell in his way "very copiously, and was often surprised at the questions he put me, and the reflections that he made. He came to understand things relating to religion beyond imagination."[116] Besides religion the good bishop seems to have crammed his pupil's head with a mass of knowledge--geography, forms of government in every country, the interests and trades of every nation, the history "of all the great revolutions that had been in the world;" and he explained "the Gothic constitution and the beneficiary and feudal laws."

No wonder that as one historian says, "his tender constitution bended under the weight of his manly soul, and was too much harass'd by the vivacity of his genius, to be of long duration.... In a word, he was too forward to arrive at maturity."[117]

On July 24, 1700, the Duke of Gloucester was eleven years old. The next day Bishop Burnet tells that he complained a little: but every one thought he was tired with his birthday festivities. The day after he grew rapidly worse. A malignant fever declared itself, and he "died on the fourth day of his illness, to the great grief of all who were concerned with him." He was buried quite quietly, in the same vault as his great-uncle Henry, Duke of Gloucester, beside their common ancestress, Mary, Queen of Scots.

The death of this little boy was an event of enormous importance to England. The Stuart line was at an end, and the eyes of England now turned to George Lewis, the Elector of Hanover, grandson of that unfortunate Queen of Bohemia, who we know best as Princess Elizabeth, the favorite sister and playfellow of Henry Frederick, Prince of Wales. And with the death of "the last hope of the race--thus withered, as it must have seemed, by the doom of Providence"[118]--our history of the children of Westminster draws to a close. Besides those whose lives and stories we have studied together, there are several of whom little is known but the facts of their death and burial in our stately Abbey. The year before little William, Duke of Gloucester, was born, two "holy innocents" were laid to rest at Westminster; one, Nicholas Bagnall, an "infant of two months old, by his nurse unfortunately overlaid," is commemorated by a white marble urn in the Chapel of St. Nicholas, among the Percys and the Cecils. And in the Cloisters there is a touchingly simple tablet which Dean Stanley delighted to point out to every one, bearing these words:

"Jane Lister, dear child, died October 7, 1688."

In 1711, three years before Queen Anne's death, a young Westminster Scholar, Carteret by name, aged nineteen, was buried in the North Aisle of the Choir, "with the chiefs of his house." This is, I think, the only instance of a Westminster boy being buried in the Abbey. And young Carteret, the Westminster Scholar, leads me to an institution at Westminster which I have too long neglected. I mean Westminster School.

From the earliest days of the Abbey, from Edith and Edward the Confessor's time, a school for the training of the novices was attached to Westminster as to other great monasteries. When the constitution of the Abbey was changed by the dissolution of the monasteries in 1539-40, Henry the Eighth founded a school in connection with the reformed Abbey. But the school was refounded and enlarged by Queen Elizabeth in the year of the Armada, and to her we owe its prosperity and fame. The great tables of chestnut wood in the black-beamed College Dining Hall, are said by tradition to have been given by the queen from the wrecks of the Spanish Armada. From this time forth Westminster School took its place among the most famous public schools in England. The names of many of the greatest of England's worthies are inscribed on the walls of the old schoolroom. In Elizabeth's reign the famous Camden was its head master. And a few years later we find young George Herbert being commended to the Dean for Westminster School, where "the beauties of his pretty behavior and wit shined and became so eminent and lovely in this his tender age, that he seemed marked out for piety and to have the care of heaven, and of a particular good angel to guard and guide him."[119]

Westminster School was always loyal, and during the Protectorate the boys were ardent partisans of the king, whose scholars they said they were and would always remain. "It will never be well with the nation until Westminster School is suppressed," said the Puritan Dean of Christ Church, John Owen.

However, the "King's School" remained vehemently loyal in spite of all the efforts of the Presbyterian and Independent preachers in the Abbey; and it was not suppressed.

In Queen Anne's reign the School buildings took their present form. The old Dormitory, which had been in the Middle Ages the Granary of the Convent, stood on the west side of Dean's Yard.

"The wear-and-tear of four centuries, which included the rough usage of many generations of schoolboys, had rendered this venerable building quite unfit for its purposes. The gaping roof and broken windows, which freely admitted the rain and snow, wind and sun; the beams, cracked and hung with cobwebs; the cavernous walls, with many a gash inflicted by youthful Dukes and Earls in their boyish days; the chairs, scorched by many a fire, and engraven deep with many a famous name--provoked alternately the affection and derision of Westminster students."[120]

So the Dormitory was doomed, and was re-built by Lord Burlington after designs by Sir Christopher Wren, in the College Garden--a lovely space of cool green beyond the Little Cloisters--where it stands to this day.

The school of Westminster has been always intimately connected with the Abbey Church, since the days when the abbot sat on one side of the Great Cloisters with his monks, and the master of the novices on the other with his disciples. And quaint customs still survive from early days in which the Chapter and the Scholars take part more or less.

Across the Great School runs the famous Bar, over which it is the duty of the college cook to toss a pancake on Shrove Tuesday "to be scrambled for by the boys and presented to the Dean." Once a year the Dean and Chapter "receive in the Hall the former Westminster Scholars, and hear the recitation of the Epigrams, which have contributed for so many years their lively comments on the events of each passing generation,"[121] a relic of the old custom by which the Dean and Prebendaries dined in the College Hall--the ancient Refectory--with all the School. Every Sunday and Saint's day during the school year, the Westminster Scholars troop into the Choir in their white surplices in front of the Abbey body, and take the seats which have been theirs by right since the coronation of James the Second. And in modern days their shouts from those seats have testified the assent of the people of England to the sovereign's election in the Coronation Service.

And now from the shouts of the young, vigorous, active boys of Westminster, let us turn once more to the Abbey. In its still dim aisles, under the vaulted, misty roof, let us bid a tender and loving farewell to its children--the Holy Innocents who have "gone before"--whose sweet memories live in the minds of men; whose souls are safe in God's good keeping; and whose ashes rest in England's Pantheon.

FOOTNOTES:

[109] Strickland. "Lives of the Queens of England." Vol. VII. p. 237.

[110] "Memoirs of Prince William Henry, Duke of Gloucester." By Jenkin Lewis. p. 7.

[111] "Memoirs of Prince William Henry, Duke of Gloucester." By Jenkin Lewis. p. 8.

[112] Memoirs. Jenkin Lewis. p. 8.

[113] Memoir. Jenkin Lewis. p. 16.

[114] "Impartial History of Queen Anne's Reign." Bishop White Kennett. p. 39.

[115] Jenkin Lewis.

[116] Memoir. Jenkin Lewis. p. 100.

[117] Bishop White Kennet. "Impartial History of Queen Anne's Reign." p. 39.

[118] "Memorials of Westminster Abbey." Dean Stanley, p. 196.

[119] Walton's Life. Vol. II. p. 24.

[120] "Memorials of Westminster Abbey. Dean Stanley." p. 536

[121] "Memorials of Westminster Abbey." Dean Stanley, p. 481.

GLOSSARY.

=Aisle=, the lateral divisions of a church, on each side of the nave. From Aile--a wing. p. 99.

=Almonry=, a room where alms were distributed. In Abbeys generally a stone building near the church. p. 99.

=Ambulatory=, a place to walk in. At Westminster the passage round the outside of the Chapel of St. Edward. p. 26.

=Arcade=, a series of arches, supported by columns, either open or closed with masonry. Frequently used for the decoration of the walls of churches, on the exterior and interior. p. 13.

=Baptistery=, the part of a church containing the font. p. 33.

=Boss=, an ornament placed at the intersection of the ribs in vaulted roofs. p. 106.

=Breviary=, the book containing the daily service of the Roman Catholic Church. p. 128.

=Buttress=, a projection from a wall to give extra strength and support. The _flying buttress_, or _Arc-boutant_ is carried across by an arch from one wall to another. p. 13.

=Chalice=, the cup used at the celebration of the Eucharist. p. 28.

=Chantry=, a sepulchral chapel, in which masses for the dead were chanted. p. 24.

=Choir=, the chancel of collegiate or cathedral churches. p. 32.

=Clerestory=, (old spelling clear-story) the upper story or row of windows in a Gothic Church. p. 15.

=Cloisters=, covered galleries of communication between the different parts of a monastic building or college. They generally have roofs of groined stone. At Westminster they run round the two quadrangles of the Great and Little Cloisters, and join them together by long stone passages. p. 33.

=Crocket=, detached flowers or bunches of foliage, used to decorate the angles of spires, pinnacles and gables. p. 115.

=Gable=, the upright triangular piece of masonry or woodwork at the end of a roof.

=Gargoyle=, a projecting stone water-spout in the shape of some monster, or the figure of a man from whose mouth the water runs. p. 13.

=Gothic= Architecture is chiefly distinguished by the _pointed arch_. It is divided into three periods. The Early English, which prevailed during the thirteenth century. The Decorated style, which prevailed during the fourteenth century. And the Perpendicular, or style of the fifteenth century. In France the latest Gothic style is called Flamboyant. p. 115.

=Mullions=, upright bars of stone between the lights of a window.

=Nave=, the principal or central division of a Gothic Church, extending from the west end to the entrance of the Choir. p. 64.

=Oriel=, a window projecting from the face of the wall, frequently resting on brackets.

=Pendant=, a sculptured ornament hanging from a Gothic roof. In the latest or Perpendicular style the pendants are sculptured in the most delicate manner and form the Keystones of the roof, taking the place of the bosses. p. 106.

=Pier-Arches=, arches supported on piers (or pillars) between the centre and side aisles. p. 110.

=Pyx=, a gold or silver circular vessel in which the Eucharistic wafer was reserved before the Reformation for communicating the sick. The term is also used sometimes, for a casket in which relics are kept; or for boxes in which deeds are preserved. p. 22.

=Reredos=, the screen at the back of the Altar. p. 15.

=Rood=, the Holy Rood, or Crucifix. A cross with the figure of our Saviour upon it. p. 52.

=Rose-Window=, a circular window, called also a Catherine-wheel, or a Marigold window. p. 13.

=Sacrarium=, the part of a temple where the sacred things were deposited. At Westminster, the wide space within the Altar rails. p. 15.

=String-course=, a projecting line of mouldings running horizontally along the face of a building, frequently under the windows. p. 115.

=Transept=, the division of a church running north and south, forming the arms of a cross. p. 32.

=Triforium=, a range of small arches or panels between the top of the pier-arches and the bottom of the clerestory windows, usually opening into a passage above the side aisles. p. 15.

=Troco=, an old game played with large wooden balls which were pushed through a ring set up in the turf, by poles with a little iron cup at the end.

=Tudor= or Perpendicular style. In the windows the mullions are continued through the head of the window.

=Turret=, a small tower of great height in proportion to its diameter. p. 115.

=Vaulting=, or Vaulted Roof. An arched roof, the stones or materials of which are so placed as to support each other. p. 106.

Press of Berwick & Smith, Boston.

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Transcriber's notes

Inconsistencies in spelling of proper names retained.

Punctuation normalised.