To do Anne justice, she was far from alone in harbouring such opinions. The Imperial ambassador estimated that two thirds of the country did not think the baby was legitimate. In later years, however, many people who, in the febrile climate of 1688, had been ready to believe that the Prince of Wales was supposititious, would privately concede that the evidence for this was flawed to say the least. Anne, in contrast, clung to the views formed then with great tenacity. In 1702 Bishop Lloyd recalled having heard Anne ‘express her dissatisfaction of the truth of the Prince of Wales birth and give such reasons for it as would convince any man he was an imposter, except such as were obstinate’.95 Since there is no evidence to show that she modified her outlook in later years, it can be argued that she did indeed remain ‘of the number of unbelievers’ to the end of her life.
On 15 June the seven bishops had been freed on bail, but much depended on the outcome of their trial, set for 29 June. ‘One cannot help having a thousand fears and melancholy thoughts’, Anne told her sister, but when the hearing took place in Westminster Hall the bishops were acquitted. The verdict was greeted with ‘wild huzzas and acclamations’ and that evening many more celebratory bonfires blazed than had been lit to mark the Prince of Wales’s birth.96 The King appeared undaunted: soon afterwards he ordered the Ecclesiastical Commission to compile lists of all clergymen who had failed to read out the Declaration of Indulgence, with a view to penalising them.
In fact, however, the regime was now under threat. On the day that the bishops had been acquitted, seven prominent individuals, including Anne’s former mentor, Bishop Compton, had invited William of Orange to come to England with an army in order to salvage the country’s ‘religion, liberty and properties, all of which had been greatly invaded’. They assured him that if he did so he would be welcomed by large numbers of the nobility and gentry, and that most of James’s army would desert him.97
For some time now William of Orange had been contemplating taking military action against his father-in-law. Since late 1687 he had been building up Holland’s navy and army, and though these forces could have been intended to defend his country against a French attack, intervention in England was henceforward a feasible option. Understandably James was reluctant to think that his son-in-law’s military preparations were directed against him. Still less did he imagine that Anne and George would support such a venture.
The announcement of Mary Beatrice’s pregnancy on New Year’s Day 1688 had helped convince William that action was necessary. In April the Prince had informed Edward Russell, who was visiting Holland, that if ‘some men of the best interest’ in England invited him ‘to come and rescue the nation and the religion he believed he could be ready by the end of September’ to sail there with an army.98 On his return Russell had sounded out leading politicians, but it was not until the end of June that enough men of distinction pledged their support, and the desired invitation was despatched. William now felt justified in pressing forward with his plans.
As yet Anne remained unaware of all this. On 9 July, she wrote to Mary complaining that ‘the Papists are all so very insolent that it is insupportable living with them’, but concluded resignedly ‘there is no remedy but patience’. She told Mary that she now found it almost unbearable living in close proximity to her father and stepmother, and she therefore welcomed the fact that her doctors had pronounced that another visit to the spa at Tunbridge Wells would be the best way of guarding against another miscarriage. ‘I confess I am very glad’ she confided to her sister, ‘for it is very uneasy to me to be with people that every moment of one’s life one must be dissembling with and put on a face of joy when one’s heart has more cause to ache … You may easily imagine as the world goes now, to a sincere mind the court must be very disagreeable’.99
Mary, however, had work for Anne to carry out prior to leaving for Tunbridge. She was deeply vexed that her sister had not been present when their stepmother gave birth, noting irritably in her journal that Anne had ‘committed an irreparable error by being far away’. She also considered that Anne had been remiss about collecting reliable information since her return. She had written to her sister upbraiding her for not being ‘more particular’ and making it plain that she considered she had been ‘negligent’ about keeping her informed. Mary then drew up a long questionnaire, demanding answers to twenty-three queries. She wanted to know precise details about all aspects of the Queen’s labour and the circumstances of the child’s birth, stressing that on every point ‘a critical answer, as near to a minute as it is possible, is desired’. Among other things she wanted to know whether Mary Beatrice had taken measures to stop the flow of milk, as was usual when mothers did not breastfeed; whether it was true, as reported, that the Queen’s bed curtains had been drawn during her labour so witnesses could see nothing; and exactly who had been present in the bedchamber.100
Anne was understandably hurt, and while conceding ‘I am generally lazy’, she protested ‘I have never missed any opportunity of giving you all the intelligence I am able’. She decided the best way of proceeding was to approach the Queen’s dresser Mrs Dawson, a faithful old retainer who had been present at Anne’s birth and those of all her siblings. Anne calculated that the discreet Mrs Dawson was unlikely to mention their conversation, although she also took the precaution of asking questions ‘in such a manner that … in case she should betray me … the King and Queen might not be angry with me’.101
Having waited until the King and Queen had left London for Windsor and the baby prince had been installed in his nursery at Richmond, Anne asked Mrs Dawson to come and see her at the Cockpit. When they were alone together the Princess explained she had ‘heard strange reports concerning the birth of her brother the Prince of Wales’, and asked her what happened on that day. Mrs Dawson asked sharply if Anne herself entertained any doubts about the child’s legitimacy, at which Anne, ‘putting her hands together and lifting them up’, disingenuously assured her, ‘No, not in the least’.102 Mrs Dawson then told her everything she could recall about the Prince’s arrival.
Nothing that Mrs Dawson said supported the theory that a fraud had taken place. Anne reported to Mary that the Queen had not been screened from view, as her bed curtains had been open at the side. Twenty ladies had been present, as well as all the Privy Council, who ‘stood close at the bed’s feet’. Mrs Dawson not only remembered seeing milk run from the Queen’s breast but had also watched ‘the midwife cut the navel string’. Yet although Anne’s research had yielded such disappointing results, she would not modify her views on that account. ‘All that she says seems very clear, but one does not know what to think’ she told Mary, adding doggedly, ‘methinks it is wonderful if it is no cheat, that they never took no pains to convince me of it’.103
There appeared to be quite a good chance that the baby Prince would resolve the crisis by dying. At birth he had been observed to be ‘a brave lusty boy and like to live’, but since then the doctors had nearly succeeded in killing him. They had decreed that he should not take milk from a wet nurse, and instead fed him ‘a sort of paste’ composed of ‘barley, flour, water and sugar, to which a few currants are sometimes added’. Hardly surprisingly, the baby was soon seriously ill, but the doctors insisted ‘they would not give him half an hour to live if he were suckled’. Instead they administered ‘violent remedies’ such as canary wine and Dr Goddard’s drops – ‘nothing less than liquid fire’ according to one despairing observer. With the child reduced to ‘a seeming dying condition’ they dosed him with an emetic. On 9 July Anne had reported hopefully, ‘the Prince of Wales has been ill these three or four days; and if he has been as bad as some people say, I believe it will not be long before he is an angel in heaven’.104
At times Anne inclined to the view that the King and Queen were merely pretending the child was ill in order to keep him out of sight, but the few glimpses she had of the baby confirmed that he was truly very sickly. In her questionnaire Mary had wanted to know, ‘Is the Queen fond of it?’ and Anne did not scruple to imply that Mary Beatrice displayed a suspicious lack of maternal feeling. She noted that at one point when the child had been reported to be ‘very ill of a looseness, and it really looked