The King's Mistress: The True & Scandalous Story of the Woman Who Stole the Heart of George I (24 page)

George kept up his extravagant hospitality when the court moved to Hampton Court for the summer, with assemblies every evening in the Cartoon Gallery or the Tennis Court. He kept twenty musicians and held a ball at least twice a week. Plays were
regularly put on throughout the summer, reminiscent of the glory days of Herrenhausen. He even brought Steel’s Company, the group of players based at the theatre in Drury Lane, to Hampton Court to entertain, at enormous expense. Melusine appeared nightly with George, socializing and entertaining.

The parties continued at St James’s when the court returned there for the winter. Beattie points out that they were often boisterous affairs. On one occasion ‘the room where the Side Board was kept’ was so ‘stained with claret [that] it was necessary to provide Sayl cloth against another Ball to prevent the like damage’.
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Years later, when Georg August’s son Frederick contemplated setting up a rival court to his father, Lord Hervey was emphatically against it. He told him how opposition had impacted on his father:

I can remember when your father had the misfortune to quarrel with your grandfather, and notwithstanding he had many people of the first rank, quality, understanding, character, and consideration of this kingdom in his party; notwithstanding one of his own servants was in the chair of the House of Commons; and notwithstanding he had a revenue of £120,000 a year independent of the King, I can remember in a little time how poor a figure his opposition to the Court made, how weary both he and his adherents were of it . . . and how little it availed him in any one article.
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As a result of the split in the family Melusine fretted not only for George’s health – she was relieved when they went to Hanover during the summers of 1719 and 1720 – but for her own future. Evidence suggests that she may have sanctioned overtures to the Pretender; if so, the breach must have made Melusine very fearful indeed. Beneath the cool public face, she experienced dread bordering on hysteria.

According to the Duke of Hamilton, Melusine had conversations with his mother, Elizabeth Gerard, Duchess of Hamilton, that were tantamount to treason. The duchess reported back to her son, who duly wrote to the Pretender, that ‘the irreconcilable difference’ between the king and his son made Kendal fearful for her future position should the Prince of Wales succeed. Thus for an allowance for life from the Pretender, Kendal would use her power with the king to ‘have his son laid aside’ and to ‘enter into measures for your majesty [the Pretender] to succeed’.
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Elizabeth, disliked by many, seems to have been in the habit of speaking her mind. In 1711 Swift said of her: ‘she talks too much, is a plaguey detractor, and I believe I shall not much like her . . .’ The following year he changed his opinion: ‘she has abundance of wit and spirit . . . handsome and airy, and seldom spared anybody that gave her the least provocation, by which she had many enemies and few friends.’ But was the duchess telling the truth? Jacobite supporters in England – the Hamiltons were fervent supporters of James’s cause – felt obliged to give the Pretender some good news, and repeated any favourable gossip or hearsay as fact.

There are rumours elsewhere that George wanted to put his son aside. In March 1718, at the height of the crisis between the king and the prince, Liselotte wrote in a panic to her half-sister Louise:

Everything goes from bad to worse in England. It is not safe to write anything about it. All Paris says that King George wants to declare publicly that the Prince of Wales is not his son, and that, in order to spite him still further, he wants to marry the Schulenberg woman who is now Duchess of Munster. I told Lord Stair all this, and he replied that nothing of the sort would happen, and that I had no need to alarm myself.
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It is probable that George and Melusine, tired from the unceasing round of social engagements, both intermittently unwell, missing Hanover and resentful that they could not return in 1718, as well as facing the additional strain of bringing up Georg August’s and Caroline’s young family, did contemplate drastic measures. It would have been easy for George to resurrect the myth that Georg August was Königsmarck’s son because many of George’s subjects already believed it to be true. In 1716 Caroline received an alarming Jacobite letter, ‘asking her to consider, just and God-fearing as she is known to be, that the only rightful heir to the kingdom is the one known as the Pretender, as he was King James II’s son as surely as her husband was Count Königsmarck’s’.
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But it is extremely unlikely that the cautious George would have considered such a move seriously.

The Duchess of Hamilton’s claims are more serious. If they were true, they show Melusine as uncharacteristically desperate, and may explain why she was amenable to ever-increasing presents of money for favours and access, as with her involvement in the catastrophic South Sea Bubble, and why she took an £11,000 bribe from Bolingbroke in 1725 for aiding his return to England.

Meanwhile it was imperative that the royal children be well cared for with as little disruption as possible. Melusine’s hand can be seen here. They were entrusted to her great friend Joanne Sophie zu Schaumburg-Lippe, and it is possible that familial links were maintained with the presence of Trudchen, their aunt, now sixteen years old. At least one historian believes that Melusine’s youngest daughter, who was renowned for her kindness and her gentle nature, was involved in the day-to-day care of the children. The German historian Mijndert Bertram claims that Trudchen received custody of the children, but it may be that he has confused her with her future mother-in-law; in 1722 Trudchen married Joanne Sophie’s son, Albrecht Wolfgang zu Schaumburg-Lippe. But it is
entirely feasible that Trudchen, not much older than the eldest princess, had a hand in caring for her young nieces and nephew. In 1717 Anne was twelve, Amalie ten, and Caroline only four years old; George William, of course, was only a baby.

Melusine ensured that she was physically close to the princesses in order to supervise their upbringing. In May 1719 Kensington Palace became their main home. Melusine and George had great plans for Kensington, as witnessed by the extensive rebuilding that took place between 1718 and 1726. Even after the reconciliation between father and son, the princesses’ main home remained the palace best beloved of their grandfather and his mistress.

Two specific entries relating to Melusine’s accommodation at Kensington occur in the minutes of the Board of Works. The first, from January 1724, tells us: ‘The young Princesses’ Gallery to be paneled. For making a colonnaded way from the Duchess of Kendall’s to the young Princesses’ lodging.’ This entrance was not in the architect’s original plans, and shows how much interaction there was between the two households. Although Joanne Sophie zu Schaumburg-Lippe was officially in charge of the young princesses, the fact that she and Melusine were close friends, and that Melusine’s apartments were linked to the princesses’, makes it likely that Melusine had overall responsibility for the children.

The second entry, dating from May 1725, gives the commission ‘to build two rooms over the new arcade in Green Cloth Court for the Duchess of Kendall and two closets for the young princesses, and one for the Countess of Portland’. Jane, Countess of Portland, was governess to the princesses from 1718, and both entries show how imperative Melusine was to the girls’ lives, living on such intimate terms with them and their governess.

The Countess of Portland had been carefully chosen for her intelligence and the fact that she had already raised a large family. In December 1714 Mary Cowper wrote of the princesses: ‘After
dinner, I went to wait upon the little princesses, who are miracles of their ages, especially princess Anne, who at five years old speaks, reads, and writes both German and French to perfection, knows a great deal of history and geography, speaks English very prettily, and dances very well.’
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Melusine and Joanne Sophie were keen to continue the development of their education, particularly dancing, which they loved. The girls enjoyed showing off their skills, to the delight of family and court at George’s elaborate birthday parties, where they would dance ‘till 11’. All was certainly not doom and gloom without their parents. They saw their mother nearly every day – Caroline was in the habit of coming to Kensington to bathe them and put them to bed – and their father often, and Melusine did her best to create a warm family home. Continuity was ensured with their music master, Handel. With Melusine, the Countess of Portland, Joanne Sophie and their grandfather visiting often, they perhaps did not suffer as much as George and Melusine’s detractors claimed.

William Nicolson, Bishop of Carlisle, was in love with the German governess to the princesses, Madame Gemmingen. He called her Pallas for her intelligence and her inquisitiveness – he was impressed that she read the
Spectator
– and records her delight in Melusine’s and George’s kindness. His diary entry for 28 January 1718 reads: ‘[Jan] 28. M[adame] Gem[mingen]’s grateful account of the K[ing]’s goodness to her; and the D[uchess] of M[unster]’s, etc’, and the entry for 4 February 1718 reports: ‘G[emmingen] in new joy on the king’s repeated goodness to her and the children. Esto!’
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Her chatter to the bishop shows a household full of warmth, and the central role of Melusine.
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But despite George and Melusine’s best efforts, the princesses naturally missed their parents, particularly as they grew older. They were often rude to Lady Portland, their governess. Liselotte, who
always seemed particularly animated whenever she reported on her dysfunctional cousins in England, happily wrote that ‘the poor little things sent a basket of cherries to their father, with a message that though they were not allowed to go to him, their hearts, souls and thoughts were with their dear parents always’.

The family’s tragedy was compounded when the young prince died in February 1718. He was only four months old and had been deprived of a mother’s constant care for most of his life. Liselotte wrote to Frederick von Harling, the Hanoverian Master of the Horse – she had known him well during her days in Osnabrück and Hanover – in great distress:

I pity the princess [Caroline] with all my heart; on the seventeenth of this month her newborn little prince died of convulsions and cough at Kensington. The princess is said to be dreadfully distressed about this loss. In her last letter her Grace tells me that she and her husband have begged the king’s forgiveness three times, but to no avail. I do not understand anything about this matter, but I am afraid that the prince shares in his mother’s misfortune and therefore cannot ever be loved, and that is a hopeless situation. However, it seems to me that since the king has acknowledged this prince as his son, he should also treat him as his son; nor should he be so severe with the princess, who has never done anything against him and has always honoured, respected and indeed loved him as if he were her own father. As I see it, I do not think anything good will ever come of this, the bitterness has grown too great; yet the king would be well advised to put an end to this matter, for it only gives rise to a lot of impertinent talk and brings up ugly old stories that had much better be entirely forgotten.
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But despite the horror of their baby’s death, Caroline and Georg August were still unable to claim back their daughters. They
remained the Crown’s responsibility. George allowed Caroline secret but regular visits and Joanne Sophie zu Schaumburg-Lippe went to Leicester House every day to report on the children’s progress. This countess, so trusted by George and Melusine, had cared for the baby prince ‘day and night’ during his illness at Kensington, to make it easier for his parents to visit him. When George and Melusine went to Hanover in 1719 the king was very specific that the Prince and Princess of Wales could see the girls as often as they liked, but only in the princesses’ apartments. But generous visiting rights did not make up for the fact that Georg August and Caroline had no say in their daughter’s upbringing. George was very clear that the Prince and Princess of Wales could not use St James’s in his absence, and that any official functions should be hosted by his granddaughters, and not by his son and daughter-in-law.

Meanwhile the political rift amongst the Whigs worsened, with Walpole and Townshend hindering the king’s business, and George’s Whig ministers (chief amongst them Sunderland and Stanhope, with the young and ambitious James Craggs as Secretary of the South from April 1717) frustrated. And the division within the party was not only ideological; it had much to do with personal enmity, particularly between Walpole and Stanhope. The king’s ministers sought to shore up their positions with George. Naturally, given her importance to the king, the competing ministers strove to court Melusine, and evidence of this can be found in her brother Frederick William’s letters of April 1717, where he claims that Sunderland hoped to marry one of her daughters.
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He did not say which one, but it was probably young Melusine. Louise, now divorced, enjoyed her independent lifestyle and her lovers, while George did his best to shield Melusine from the rumours that surrounded her. Trudchen was still very young and she may have already told her parents of her preference for Joanne Sophie’s
handsome son. Sunderland’s hopes however went unrealized. Young Melusine remained unmarried until 1733, despite reports of her beauty and charm, and when she did eventually marry the Earl of Chesterfield, she lived next door to her mother.

By early 1718 Melusine was in a unique position, probably the only person who had a full picture of the schemes of both the English and the German cabals, across all factions. In the spring of 1718 her brother Schulenburg observed how George’s English ministers were deliberately excluding Bernstorff and Bothmer from ‘secret matters’, whereupon the Germans found comfort in ‘seeking refuge’ with Melusine, who was naturally aware of all developments through both George and his ministers.
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Throughout the crisis Melusine kept open a channel of communication between George, Walpole and Townshend. In one instance she arranged for one of her intimates – we do not know their name – to approach Walpole on George’s behalf. On another occasion she used the services of the Hanoverian major-general Alexander von Hammerstein, a member of the inner circle and a trusted confidant of George’s, not least because he had saved his life at the Battle of Neerwinden in 1693. For that reason alone, together with his devoted friendship, Melusine had reason to trust him.