It never failed to amuse him to see her in her apartments, the grand lady Madam Eleanor Gwyn. It grieved him that he could as yet do nothing for the boys, but he promised himself he would as soon as he felt it was safe to do so.
The King, recovered from his illness, was in good spirits. He recalled Rochester, for, although he could not entirely like the fellow, he knew of none who could write such witty verses and make him laugh so heartily—even though it was often at the King’s expense.
The Court was merry. Charles refused to be worried by affairs of state. Louise was in retirement and, as there was no need to stand on dignity, there was much merrymaking during these months with Nell reigning supreme as the Queen of the Court, determined to enjoy every moment before that time when Louise must inevitably come forward and send her back a pace or two.
One day, when the King rose, it was to find one of Rochester’s verses stuck on his door.
The courtiers gathered about him to read it.
Charles read aloud:
“Here lies our Sovereign Lord the King
Whose word no man relies on.
He never said a foolish thing
And never did a wise one.”
There was an expectant hush when the King finished reading. A man must indeed have a lively sense of humor to be able to laugh at what he knew to be so true of himself.
There was Rochester in the background, debonair and reckless, not caring if the verses earned him another banishment from the Court he loved to grace. How could he, his expression demanded, refrain from writing such neat and witty verses when they occurred to him and happened to be so true?
The King laughed suddenly and loudly.
“Why, my friends,” he said to the company, “‘tis true, what he says, but the matter is easily accounted for—my discourse is my own, my actions are my Ministry’s.”
Indeed it was a very merry Court during those months.
Nell gave a musical party in her finely furnished house; it was looking particularly grand, for if the King could not give her the titles she craved for her sons, he tried hard to make up for that with his gifts.
Nell, looking round the room, could hardly believe that this was now her home. It was not easy to conjure up the memory of that hovel in the Cole-yard now. Yet when she went up to that room where her mother would now be sleeping, the gin bottle not far out of reach, it was not so difficult.
But what a sight this was, with the candlelight gleaming on the rich dress of ladies and Court gallants! Nell glanced at her own skirts covered in silver and gold lace, at the jewels glittering on her fingers.
She, little Nell Gwyn of the Cole-yard, was giving a party at which the principal guests were the King and his brother, the Duke of York.
This was a particularly happy evening for Nell, because during it she would have a chance to do a good turn to a poor player from the theater. He had a beautiful voice, this young Bowman, and she wanted the King to hear it and compliment him, for the King’s compliments would mean that London playgoers would crowd into the theater to hear the man; and it was a mighty pleasant thing, thought Nell, having had one’s feet set on the road to good fortune to do all in one’s power to lead others that way.
She watched the King’s expression as he listened to the singing. She sidled up to him.
“A good performer, Nell,” he said.
“I am delighted so to please Your Majesty,” she told him. “I wish to bring the singer to you that you may thank him personally. It will mean much to the boy.”
“Do so, Nell, if it be your wish,” said Charles and, as he watched her small figure whisk away, he thought affectionately that it was like Nell, in the midst of her extravagant splendor, to think of those less fortunate. He was happy with Nell. If she did not continuously plague him about those boys of hers he would know complete peace with her. But she was right, of course, to do what she could for their sons. He would not have her neglectful of their welfare. And one day she should be rewarded. As soon as it was possible he would give young Charles all that he had given Barbara’s and Louise’s.
Nell was approaching with young Bowman, who nervously stood before the King.
“I thank you heartily for your music,” said Charles warmly. He would not deny Nell the appreciation which she wanted. That cost nothing, and he wanted her to know that, were he in a position to do so, he would grant all her requests. “I thank you heartily again and again.”
Nell was at his side. “Sir,” she said, “to show you do not speak like a courtier, could you not make the performers a worthy present?”
“Assuredly yes,” said the King, and felt in his pockets. He grimaced. He was without money. He called to his brother.
“James, I beg of you reward these good musicians in my name.”
James discovered that he, too, had left his purse in his apartments.
“I have nothing here, Sir,” he said, “naught but a guinea or two.”
Nell stood, arms akimbo, looking from the King to the Duke.
“Od’s Fish!” she cried. “What company have I got into?”
There was laughter all round; and none laughed more heartily than the King.
Nell was happy, delighting in her fine apartments, the favor she enjoyed with the King, and the love she bore him.
All the same she did not forget to make sure that the musicians were adequately rewarded.
It was a successful evening among many.
Thus it was while Louise nursed herself back to health.
Louise was recovered, and now the King was dividing his time between her and Nell. Barbara, Duchess of Cleveland, although no longer in favor with the King, continued to fight for the rights of those children whom she declared were as much his as her own. Louise felt that by some divine right her own son should have the precedence over Barbara’s. The King was pestered first by one, then by the other. Barbara’s sons were to be the Dukes of Grafton and Southampton; Louise’s was to have the title of Duke of Richmond, which was vacant on the death of Frances Stuart’s husband. But Charles must arrange that the patents be passed all at the same time, to avoid jealousy.
Still there were no titles for Charles and James Beauclerk. Nell was unable to conceal her chagrin. She could not refrain from insulting Louise on every possible occasion. “If she is a person of such rank, related to all the nobility of France,” she demanded, “why does she play the whore? I’m a doxy by profession, and I do not pretend to be anything else. I am constant to the King, and I know that he will not continue to pass over my boys.”
But Louise had now managed to win Danby to her side, and Danby’s position was high in the country. Charles could not ignore him because his wizardry in matters of finance had made such marked improvements in Charles’ affairs. Nell knew that she owed her own and her sons’ lack of honors to the Danby-Portsmouth league, and she was also wise enough to know that while Danby remained in power she would find it very difficult to get the recognition she so eagerly desired.
Danby was fast building up the Court party of which he was the head. He wanted to revive the Divine Right of Kings and the absolutism of the monarchy as in the days of Charles I. In opposition, the Country party, led by Shaftesbury with Buckingham as his lieutenant, aimed to support the Parliament. Danby’s party called Shaftesbury’s party Whigs, which was a term hitherto only applied to Scottish robbers who raided the border and stole their neighbors’ goods under a cloak of hypocrisy. Shaftesbury retaliated by dubbing Danby’s party Tories, a term used in Ireland for those who were superstitious, bloodthirsty, ignorant, and not to be trusted.