couple? You'll let Marlborough wade on through oceans of blood to become the military dictator of Europe?"
"But I'm tired, Harley. I'm tired! I can't stand the constant battle. How do I know what's best for England? How do I even know what's best for the Queen? She loved her Mrs. Freeman once. Maybe she can love her again!"
Masham now pushed himself into the argument. "You might consider someone besides yourself, Abigail. How do you think I stand in all this? It was because of you that I put all of my eggs in the Queen's basket. Do you think I could not have married a woman of property? Do you think Prince George would have done nothing for a favorite groom? Why, I could have been a colonel by now, or higher. But, no, I took
you
âwithout a penny. Your only fortune was the Queen's favor. How can you go back on me now? Why, it's as if you were to take the coins of a dowry and fling them in the Thames before my very eyes!"
"I can't help it! I can't stand in the way of the Captain-General! How can you ask me to, you, his officer?"
"Don't be silly. I'm not his officer. But I see how it is. You were always in love with him, and now you want to ruin me out of spite that you can't have him!"
But the vision of the Duke was too firmly in my mind for me to bother with such trashy talk. My husband and even Harley seemed small, petty, ranting men in contrast. I felt that I did not care what happened to me anymore, if I could only remove myself as an impediment to England's hero. To
my
hero! For he was that again, all of a sudden, and the lines of Cassius throbbed in my mind:
Why, man, he does bestride the narrow world
Like a Colossus, and we petty men
Walk under his huge legs and peep about
To find ourselves dishonorable graves.
Harley rambled on about the rights of Englishmen and the horrors of war, and Masham threatened me with poverty and disgrace, warning me that his father, who despised my low birth and fortune, would never take us in. I do not know what we all might have ended saying to each other had there not suddenly been a loud knock at the door.
It was an usher from the Prince. My husband was sent for. All the Prince's household were sent for. The poor man was gravely ill.
11
I
t was soon known that George of Denmark was dying. The Queen would hardly leave his bedchamber. The dear, unfortunate man, as patient in agony as he had been complacent in health, lay motionless and speechless, emitting no sound but his stertorous breathing, surrounded by doctors who, I very much fear, only tortured him. The Queen, her eyes misty with sorrow, sat in an armchair by the window, her hands playing with her bandages. In the intervals when the doctors spared their patient, she moved to the bedside so that she could hold the Prince's hand.
When I went in to sit by her side, her first thought was of my condition.
"Are you well enough, my dear, to be up?"
"Oh, yes, ma'am, quite well enough. Pray don't think of me at such a time."
"But of course I do. How is your little daughter?"
"Oh, she has her wet nurse. She is content."
"Would it were so with my poor husband! Oh, Masham, do you know I never had an unkind word from him?"
"Not even the lowest of his servants had."
"That's true, isn't it? He was so good to all. A kind of saint, in his way. People don't know that, Masham. Oh, people close to him do, like you and Mr. Masham, yes. But not people generally. Not my subjects. They thought he was dull and colorless because he wasn't always showing off. You know that terrible remark of my uncle's about trying him drunk and trying him sober?"
"I am surprised that anyone would have repeated
that
to Your Majesty."
"Well, the Duchess, you know, had a theory that royalty should be told everything. And do you know something else, Masham? The Prince
knew
how they felt about him. He knew that King William was being intentionally rude to him when he went to Ireland to serve under him in the Battle of the Boyne. But the Prince always
"But I'm tired, Harley. I'm tired! I can't stand the constant battle. How do I know what's best for England? How do I even know what's best for the Queen? She loved her Mrs. Freeman once. Maybe she can love her again!"
Masham now pushed himself into the argument. "You might consider someone besides yourself, Abigail. How do you think I stand in all this? It was because of you that I put all of my eggs in the Queen's basket. Do you think I could not have married a woman of property? Do you think Prince George would have done nothing for a favorite groom? Why, I could have been a colonel by now, or higher. But, no, I took
you
âwithout a penny. Your only fortune was the Queen's favor. How can you go back on me now? Why, it's as if you were to take the coins of a dowry and fling them in the Thames before my very eyes!"
"I can't help it! I can't stand in the way of the Captain-General! How can you ask me to, you, his officer?"
"Don't be silly. I'm not his officer. But I see how it is. You were always in love with him, and now you want to ruin me out of spite that you can't have him!"
But the vision of the Duke was too firmly in my mind for me to bother with such trashy talk. My husband and even Harley seemed small, petty, ranting men in contrast. I felt that I did not care what happened to me anymore, if I could only remove myself as an impediment to England's hero. To
my
hero! For he was that again, all of a sudden, and the lines of Cassius throbbed in my mind:
Why, man, he does bestride the narrow world
Like a Colossus, and we petty men
Walk under his huge legs and peep about
To find ourselves dishonorable graves.
Harley rambled on about the rights of Englishmen and the horrors of war, and Masham threatened me with poverty and disgrace, warning me that his father, who despised my low birth and fortune, would never take us in. I do not know what we all might have ended saying to each other had there not suddenly been a loud knock at the door.
It was an usher from the Prince. My husband was sent for. All the Prince's household were sent for. The poor man was gravely ill.
11
I
t was soon known that George of Denmark was dying. The Queen would hardly leave his bedchamber. The dear, unfortunate man, as patient in agony as he had been complacent in health, lay motionless and speechless, emitting no sound but his stertorous breathing, surrounded by doctors who, I very much fear, only tortured him. The Queen, her eyes misty with sorrow, sat in an armchair by the window, her hands playing with her bandages. In the intervals when the doctors spared their patient, she moved to the bedside so that she could hold the Prince's hand.
When I went in to sit by her side, her first thought was of my condition.
"Are you well enough, my dear, to be up?"
"Oh, yes, ma'am, quite well enough. Pray don't think of me at such a time."
"But of course I do. How is your little daughter?"
"Oh, she has her wet nurse. She is content."
"Would it were so with my poor husband! Oh, Masham, do you know I never had an unkind word from him?"
"Not even the lowest of his servants had."
"That's true, isn't it? He was so good to all. A kind of saint, in his way. People don't know that, Masham. Oh, people close to him do, like you and Mr. Masham, yes. But not people generally. Not my subjects. They thought he was dull and colorless because he wasn't always showing off. You know that terrible remark of my uncle's about trying him drunk and trying him sober?"
"I am surprised that anyone would have repeated
that
to Your Majesty."
"Well, the Duchess, you know, had a theory that royalty should be told everything. And do you know something else, Masham? The Prince
knew
how they felt about him. He knew that King William was being intentionally rude to him when he went to Ireland to serve under him in the Battle of the Boyne. But the Prince always
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