Courting Her Highness_ The Story of Queen Anne - Jean Plaidy [46]
Her progress to the altar was painful, but she scarcely felt the ache in her feet; she believed that God gave her special strength on that day. When she heard the words “Thou shalt not appear before the Lord thy God empty!” she put the gold which she had brought with her into the proffered basin and thought once more of her sister and William who at this moment of their coronation—owing to the consternation they had felt earlier on receiving the letter from the deposed James—had forgotten to provide themselves with the necessary gold.
Her beautiful clear voice with its perfect enunciation could be heard repeating the declaration after the Archbishop; this was an important part of the coronation, for it assured the people that she did not believe in the theory of transubstantiation, that she considered the worship of the Virgin Mary and any saints idolatrous; in fact that she was a member of the Protestant Church.
And when she answered the questions put to her and came to that one: “Will you, to the utmost of your power, maintain the laws of God, the true profession of the gospel, and the Protestant reformed religion established by law?” she answered with great fervour: “All this I promise to do.”
Supported by the Chamberlain she regained the altar and there, laying her right hand on the Bible, made a solemn oath to carry out all her promises.
The coronation ring was on her finger; the crown was placed upon her head and the repeated shouts rang out once more.
“God save the Queen. God save the Queen.”
The guns from the Abbey turrets fired a salute which was answered by the guns of the Tower of London. The trumpets sounded.
Seated on her chair of state Anne received the homage of the peers. George was the first to come forward and kiss her cheek, and there was more than homage in his eyes: there was pride and pleasure. Dear, dear George! she thought. He could not be happier if they were crowning him. But was that not like her dear boy’s father? How different he was from her sister’s husband, William. Poor Mary! I am fortunate when I think of her.
One by one they came to her … these important men who would play their part in shaping her reign for good or for evil. The thought sobered her, but the feeling of exultation remained, and for the first time since the death of her beloved son did her grief recede almost to insignificance. It would return, of course; but at this moment she felt her duty so strongly that there was a new purpose in her life, and during this solemn ceremony she believed that if she could win the love and respect of her subjects she could be happy again.
They were singing the anthem now. The triumphant ceremony was over.
But this was not the end; there was the banquet to follow. How willingly she would have dispensed with that; there was nothing she wanted so much now as to lie on her bed and rest her poor aching feet. She would like quiet Abigail Hill to unbind her hair and massage her forehead while she talked to her of the coronation and how she intended to be a good Queen. Abigail Hill would understand; and she would believe that this could be. What pleasure then to be alone in her bedchamber with Abigail Hill!
That could not be. Knowing how wearying she would find this coronation since, although she was carried to the Abbey in her chair, it would be necessary to walk up to the altar and stand for a while, she had vaguely hinted that the banquet might be dispensed with. How horrified Sarah had been at the thought!
“What!” she had cried. “They would say you were afraid. Have you forgotten what happened at William and Mary’s banquet? Then, when Dymoke made his challenge a glove was thrown … and what a scandal that made! The Jacobites would say you were afraid the same thing would happen at your coronation. No, banquet there must be, and attend you must.”
She had to agree that Sarah was right; but Sarah’s voice seemed to have become louder since the accession and more authoritative.