Queen in Waiting: (Georgian Series) (29 page)

I’m a plain man, thought George, though I am a king. They want to crown me. Why can’t they put the crown on my head and have done with it?

But no, there must be a ceremony. And there was George Augustus, very much enjoying himself in the role of Prince of Wales. George felt a twinge of annoyance to see that his son looked almost handsome in his crimson velvet state robes, edged with ermine. There he was, not forgetting to smile at the people, trying to win their support. Support! For what reason? So that he could have them on his side in any quarrel with his father. A fine son I’ve got, thought George bitterly. And only one. There could have been more, if his wife… But that was a subject he refused to think of. He had one son who was a constant irritation to him and that was his misfortune. He was glad in any case that that wife of his had no place in the procession. Put them there, side by side, playing the ideally happy married couple, with the children beside them and all sympathy would have been for the Prince of Wales.

If they turned me out, he ruminated, I should go back to Hanover and that would be no bad thing.

It might well be. The cheers died on their lips when they looked at their king. There he was in the ceremonial robes worn by his predecessors – crimson velvet, with ermine lining, bordered with gold lace, a cap of the same crimson velvet, trimmed with ermine encircled by gold and glittering with diamonds. He was dressed like a king, but he had no smiles for his subjects and he looked as if he was not so very pleased to be crowned their king.

There were whispers in the crowd. If German George did not want England, England did not want him.

Caroline watching from her canopied chair in the Abbey placed near the sacrarium was amazed at the almost sullen demeanour of the King. Could it really be true that he had no
wish to be King of England? How different was George Augustus, who was sycophantish in his attitude towards his new country and could not show the people often enough how he admired them. King George was a fool, thought Caroline, unless of course he really did want to return to Hanover. How could he want to leave this great and exciting country for a little German principality? He had no ambition. She felt an excitement grip her. She had enough ambition for them all.

The Archbishop of Canterbury was saying in a voice which reverberated throughout the Abbey: ‘Sirs, I here present to you King George, the undoubted King of these realms. Wherefore all of you who are come this day to do your homage, are you willing to do the same?’

Caroline held her breath. The silence seemed to go on a long time, but was that only her imagination? How could they want this dour unattractive man who could not even speak their language?

But the cry rang out: ‘God Save King George.’

The trumpeters were filling the abbey with the sounds of triumph.

At the Court of St James’s

THE PEOPLE HAD
accepted their new royal family. They were amused by the love of walking which the Prince and Princess of Wales displayed; Caroline with her husband and sometimes the little girls could often be seen promenading in the Mall; now and then they even strolled all the way from St James’s to Kensington, surrounded by friends, courtiers and ladies of the Princess’s household and followed by a crowd of spectators. This habit endeared them to the people who wanted to see their rulers; and the affable Prince and Princess were very much to their taste. Germans, yes, but at least they spoke some sort of English and the Prince had already made his admiration of his new country obvious.

‘I haf not a drop of bloot in my veins vich is not English,’ declared the Prince. ‘This I am proud of. The English is the best, handsomest, the best shaped, the best natured and lovingest people in the world. And if anybody vish to make his court to me, he must tell me I am like an Englishman.’

Such blatant flattery was irresistible.

Caroline was not far behind her husband. ‘As for me,’ she
contributed to this praise, ‘I vould as lief live on a dunghill as return to Hanover.’

Such remarks were repeated in the crowd who cried: ‘Long live the Prince and Princess of Wales!’ and were very intrigued to learn that the King and the Prince were not on good terms. Their royal family was going to provide some amusement with their family quarrels and it was a royal family’s duty to amuse its subjects.

So they were pleased with the Prince of Wales if they did feel resentful towards the King.

On the Prince’s birthday there was a ball and at this both Prince and Princess increased their popularity. The Princess with her magnificent bust decorously veiled, but not enough to disguise its charms, a fair curl over her shoulder, danced very charmingly with the Prince. She wore low-heeled shoes to make him look less short than he actually was. Her gown sparkled with gems and she was a gay and glittering figure.

The King was present, dour as usual, but even he brightened a little when in the company of women. He was making it clear that although he had brought Mesdames Schulemburg and Kielmansegge to England with him and they were secure in his affection and his habits – which he did not care to change – he could appreciate the charms of other ladies and he implied that although he was not exactly enamoured of the country of which he had found himself king, he certainly was of the women of that country.

He had already shown interest in Lady Cowper even though that lady had made it clear that she had no intention of sullying her virtuous reputation; and he was roused from his lethargy by the sparkling conversation of the Duchess of Shrewsbury, who had no such reputation to protect, having been Shrewsbury’s mistress before he married her. Being Italian she could speak French much better than most of the English women and as the King used that language, which he spoke fluently and which was understood in England better than German, she had an advantage and she did not let this slip. The King was constantly at her house – where he went, he said, to play sixpenny ombre; but both Schulemburg and Kielmansegge were a little uneasy.

After one of these visits the King asked the Princess of Wales
to come to his apartments and, when Caroline arrived, he said: ‘I want you to offer the Duchess of Shrewsbury a place in your household.’

Caroline, taken aback, replied that there was no vacant place in her household.

‘That is not true,’ replied the King. ‘You have not yet filled all posts, have you?’

‘They are not in fact filled but I have so many applicants for them that I cannot consider any more.’

‘This is one you will now consider and appoint.’

Anger was in Caroline’s heart. She wanted to cry out: It is my household. I shall decide.

But she knew the folly of that. The dislike they felt for each other was turning to hatred and she must not forget that he held the power.

She bowed her head.

‘You will send for the Duchess,’ said the King.

In his longing for Hanover the King grew critical of everything English – except the women. The language he dismissed as gibberish; the food he could not stomach. These islanders turned up their noses at sausages and sauerkraut, while relishing oysters. He declared they were stale when they were served to him, although he had never tasted them in his life before. The climate was terrible, he said. ‘The climate is the most beautiful in the vorld!’ said the Prince of Wales. In truth the climate was very little different from that of Hanover. ‘The people are noisy and undisciplined,’ said the King. ‘The people are full of a natural charm and gaiety,’ retorted the Prince of Wales.

It was small wonder that the people took the Prince and Princess to their hearts and disliked the King.

George was in no mood to admit he liked anything in his new country, but he could not disguise his love of music. This love was deep in his family and his fellow Hanoverians, and the musicians of his household were treated with greater respect than any other of his servants. Opera he had always delighted in and he often spoke lovingly of the Opera House at Hanover, yet he would not admit that the entertainment London had to offer excelled that of his native town.

The play began to fascinate him. In London it had been an important feature of town life since the days of Charles II, who had loved the playhouse and – most of all – its actresses. There were excellent players and playwrights to please the enormous public who thronged each night to Drury Lane and Lincoln’s Inn Fields, and the King would have liked to be among them. He was not, however, going to show these people that the playhouses of London were a novelty to him and admit that they had nothing like them in Hanover. All the same he could not resist attending and the only way he could do this was to go incognito.

Even so, his heavy features might be sufficiently known for him to be recognized, so he would take a private box, remain hidden at the back of it, and watch the players on the stage. He could not understand the words they spoke, but he enjoyed watching their antics, and some of the women were very attractive.

But after a while this habit became known and the King could no longer hide his interest in the play. From then on he was often seen in the royal box and because of this he found some favour with actors, actresses and all those connected with the theatre, for many people would come to the theatre as much to see German George as the play.

The King’s lack of English was a drawback, so managers began to look for plays with the minimum of dialogue.

Caroline pointed out to her husband that the King had become less unpopular with the people by this playgoing habit.

‘Perhaps,’ she said, ‘we should go more to the theatre.’

George Augustus saw the point at once and the whole royal family took to visiting the theatre frequently.

There were more cheers, Caroline noticed with satisfaction, for the Prince of Wales than for the King.

He and Caroline would be bowing and smiling from their box and the King would be scowling from his, and they could laugh at the jokes of the players while the King could not begin to understand them.

This rivalry was becoming a matter of great delight to the Prince and more and more irritating to the King.

It was noticed that at Betterton’s
The Wanton Wife
the King
ignored the Prince and Princess, never once looking their way, while the Prince threw many a scornful look at the King’s box. The audience was delighted. A feud in the royal family aroused interest, enabled them to take sides; and sentimental feeling was, of course, with the Prince and Princess who smiled on them so affectionately and loved all things English, rather than on sour-faced George who clearly would have preferred to go back to Hanover.

James Stuart could not have provided more entertainment; he would have had French mistresses instead of German ones and they may have been more attractive – in fact how could they have been less? – but there was a lot of fun to be had from the Elephant and the Maypole.

‘Long live King George!’ cried the theatre crowds. ‘Long live the Prince and Princess of Wales!’

The King was thoughtful; he was fully aware of what was going on in the coffee houses. The Jacobite writers were sending out their lampoons and the supporters of the Stuart were drinking to the King across the Water.

At a ball given in the Haymarket at which the royal family was present and into which, since it was a masked ball, all sorts of people could find a way, the King in his mask was approached by a woman. She was young and seemed attractive, and George was never one to forego an adventure. He had to admit, of course, that he could not speak English and found to his pleasure that she could speak tolerable French.

She said: ‘It is sad for England since we have had Germans among us.’

‘You do not like them?’ asked the King.

‘Who could? They are so crude. They are not like us. I should be glad to see them turned away.’

‘You think they will be?’

‘Without a doubt. We don’t want German George here and many say he doesn’t want to be here. Let him go back to Hanover and no harm done.’

‘It mightn’t be a bad idea.’

‘Let us drink a health,’ said the woman; and taking his hand she led him to a buffet where she filled two glasses.

She lifted hers. ‘To King James III now across the Water. May he soon be in his rightful place.’

George looked into his glass and she went on: ‘Come! Why don’t you drink? Drink to King James!’

‘I drink with all my heart to the health of any unfortunate prince,’ said the King.

After that he was in no mood for possible seduction and he left early.

He was not liked by his new subjects. It was possible that he would be sent back to Hanover.

It would, he reflected, be rather pleasant to end his days there.

George Augustus was watching his wife’s maid of honour and Caroline was watching George Augustus. They were in church, for the King’s advisers had pointed out that it was essential to show the people that the new dynasty was determined to support the Church of England.

The King knew, even in his most nostalgic moments, that he would be a fool to lose his kingdom. Even though he himself longed to go back to Hanover he must make the three crowns of England, Scotland and Ireland secure for his descendants. As far as George Augustus was concerned, he could go to hell for all he cared, but there was young Frederick now in Hanover who would in his turn be Prince of Wales and King.

Therefore to church went the King, but the long sermons in a tongue he could not understand were a trial to him and he could not pretend they were otherwise. He slept through most of them, or if he couldn’t sleep he would discuss state matters with whoever was next to him. The preacher had to accept that. Now he was asleep, a fact made obvious by his intermittent snores. The Prince, however, was alert, his eyes speculatively on lovely Mary Bellenden.

Caroline was wondering whether she had been wise to accumulate such a band of beauties and bring them into her household. Yes, she decided, better to have them under her surveillance, and Mrs Clayton and Mrs Howard would be excellent watchdogs – particularly Henrietta, who had her own position to think of.