The Third George: (Georgian Series) (26 page)

Oh, yes, undoubtedly the Princess was apprehensive and sought to delay departure as long as possible.

But George had never been fond of her as he had of Elizabeth the sister who had died, and as he was of young Caroline Matilda. Augusta had always been a troublemaker and he would be glad to see her go.

So the Princess could do nothing but set out with her husband on the day the King had appointed, and a very cold and blustery day it was, for at the best of times the end of January was not an ideal period to take a sea voyage; and so it proved, for when they were at sea a violent storm arose and as there was no news of their arrival from Holland, rumours that they were drowned began to circulate.

This was first whispered in the streets, then a great cry of anger rose up among the people. They had not wanted to go; they had been forced to set sail when the weather was so bad that they were certain to face great dangers.

This was due to the cruelty of the Princess Dowager and Lord Bute – and this time the King could not be exonerated. It was the first time that the King had been so severely criticized and for a few days his popularity was at its lowest.

Then news arrived of the safe arrival of the Prince and Princess of Brunswick and the murmurings died down.

But the people’s feelings for the King had suffered a severe decline. Previously they had blamed Jackboot and Petticoat; now he would stand alone. He was no longer their charming handsome King; his looks had undergone a change; the first flush of youth was over; and others would no longer be blamed for the disasters around the throne.

*

Meanwhile the poor Princess Augusta had arrived at her husband’s court to find that his palace was nothing more than a cold and gloomy wooden house with shabby furniture. And installed as its mistress was the flamboyant Madame de Hertzfeldt whom the new husband greeted with exuberant spirits and with whom he retired to bed, leaving his wife to settle into her new apartments alone.

The Princess began to feel that even a watery grave might have been preferable, and she could scarcely bear to think at all of her luxurious apartments in the English Court.

Why, why, why, she was to ask herself during the next years, did I ever think that marriage in any form was better than the single life? Oh, to be a virgin princess once more, to walk in the gardens of Kew or Richmond, to join a card party at St James’s or Buckingham House. Lucky Caroline Matilda who could still do this! Luckier Charlotte who had left a place similar to this to be the Queen of England!

But being Augusta, strong of will and in command of herself, she settled down to make the best of her uncongenial surroundings; and in due course she gave birth to a child.

It was a girl and she named her Caroline.

Marriage in a Masque

THE YEAR WHICH
followed the Princess Augusta’s departure was a distressing one for the King. He felt his responsibilities weighing heavily upon him. He had lost Bute; it was not, he realized now, that Bute’s advice had been so valuable, but that he himself had had such complete confidence in it. He now stood alone and he was not yet capable of doing it. He was well aware of his deficiencies and at the same time his sense of duty was so strong that he knew he must overcome them.

The wranglings in his Parliament, the estrangements from Bute and consequently his mother, although the Princess Dowager did her best to keep a firm hold on him, made it impossible for him to turn to anyone for help. He disliked his ministers; he realized the worth of Pitt but Pitt’s autocratic demands made it impossible for George to ask him to form a Ministry, Had he turned to Charlotte they might have worked together, but Charlotte had no knowledge of state affairs; it was not that she lacked the intelligence, it was merely that she had been deliberately kept in the dark. Charlotte might have stood with him as Queen Caroline had with his grandfather, but George in his obstinacy had declared he would never allow a woman to interfere,
thus Charlotte was kept apart; her only cares were for her children at Richmond.

George was not sleeping well; he was now and then troubled by strange rashes on his chest. He showed them to his doctors, but although purging, bleeding and ointments were applied these afflictions came and went irrespective of these treatments. Sometimes he felt dizzy and suffered from headaches. He began to feel a little uneasy, but he tried to keep these feelings to himself. He believed that if he could get a good government which could settle the country’s trying affairs, if he could regain the affection of his people, if he could grasp the handling of state matters with greater knowledge and the skill which only experience could give, he would be a good ruler; and if he were, the doubts and fears which tormented him and were responsible for sleepless nights, which brought the rashes and the headaches, he was sure all would be well. At least he had one great and burning ambition; to be a good king and do what was best for his people.

He would be up early in the morning, lighting his fire, going back to bed for a few minutes while the room warmed and then going through the state papers. Wilkes was fortunately safely in exile. Grenville – whom George thought of as ‘Mr Grenville’ and refused to address as anything else – was arrogant, believing himself indispensable, which perhaps he was since Pitt could not replace him. But the King tried to keep his mind off the intransigence of his ministers for when he thought of them his head ached and the dizzy spells came on.

How delighted he was when he could leave the precincts of St James’s and go to Richmond. What a pleasure to ride through the country lanes, to chat with people who passed; to be the king-squire with whom everyone was glad to have a word. Pretty rosy-cheeked country girls bobbing their curtseys; toddlers hiding their faces in their mothers’ skirts. ‘Come come,’ he would say jovially, ‘do you not wish to say a how-de-do to your king?’ ‘Oh, Sir, he be shy, but you wait till he’s older and I tell him the King spoke to him and he hid his face and wouldn’t look!’ Pat the child’s head and tell him to be good to his mother. Kiss the little girls – he loved the little girls best of all in their little aprons and muslin frocks. They were his most adorable subjects. He visited the farms, discussing harvests with farmers, and once
when he was walking in the lanes he came upon a farm cart which had stuck in a rut. The driver was trying to hoist it and George joined him, putting his shoulder to the wheel. And what a moment of pleasure when the driver recognized him and stuttered and stammered his incredulous thanks. That was a story which would be repeated throughout the country. It was the kind of thing which he did naturally without thinking and which won him the people’s affection.

All would be well, he assured himself, if only he could bring prosperity to England and prevent his ministers bickering together in the House of Commons. The figure of Pitt swathed in bandages loomed over the King and the Government. Although he was often in great pain from his gout, the menace of Mr Pitt was formidable. Yet if Mr Pitt could be persuaded not to make such demands, to be a little less autocratic, how much easier life could have been; and how content the King would have been to work with such a brilliant minister. When he looked back he saw the great mistake he and Lord Bute had made when they had imagined that the latter could be as strong, as brilliant, as far-seeing and as great a politician as the Great Commoner.

Always he came back to the trials of state affairs. No wonder he wished to get away to Richmond.

*

George felt his responsibilities towards his family very deeply. His brothers were proving themselves to be somewhat wild, which was not surprising considering the restricted lives they had had. The Princess Dowager had been so afraid that they would be contaminated by the wickedness of the Court that she had kept them shut away until she could do so no longer. When they had been allowed to mingle with the world it was only natural that they, lacking their elder brother’s purpose and position and his innate respectability, had turned to somewhat riotous living.

George could do nothing to restrain them, but he could find a husband for Caroline Matilda. His little sister – the youngest of the family – was fourteen years old. She should not be allowed to grow old and sour like poor Augusta. Fourteen was not really old enough for marriage, but opportunities must be seized when they came. He knew full well how difficult it was to provide
Protestant matches for his family, and nothing but a Protestant match would do.

The opportunity came when the King learned that Frederick V of Denmark was seeking a bride for Prince Christian, heir to the throne of Denmark and the son of his first marriage.

A crown for Caroline Matilda! The Dowager Princess was excited.

‘It is a very good offer, George,’ she said. ‘We could not hope for better. I think they should be betrothed without delay.’

And what did Caroline Matilda say? George asked her, although whatever she said she would be obliged to accept the match.

Caroline Matilda in fact was delighted. She had forgotten Augusta’s departure almost a year ago; and when she did later remember she told herself that all husbands were not like that horrid Prince of Brunswick. Christian of Denmark would be different. She saw him, tall, blond and handsome; and when his father died he would be king – not merely ruler of a little German principality, but king of a great country like Denmark.

Caroline Matilda was excited by the prospect.

On 10 January 1765 her betrothal was announced.

She immediately became a more important person, a princess who one day would be a queen. And there was nothing to worry about; it was only a betrothal; she was fourteen years old. They would wait at least until she was fifteen.

She went to see Charlotte and play with the babies. She was becoming very interested in married life. She herself hoped to have babies, many of them. But chiefly she saw herself in her royal robes, a crown on her flaxen hair.

*

The new year had come in happily for Charlotte for with it came the certainty that she was pregnant.

During the last year her English had improved greatly, and she spoke it now more or less fluently, but of course with a German accent. That was inevitable. But how much easier it made life! She was pleased that George was breaking away from his mother’s influence, too; she was always hoping that he would share confidences with her; in fact during the last year when she had not been pregnant they had grown closer; it seemed that when Charlotte was not preoccupied by the prospect of bearing a
child she could share a closer intimacy with her husband.

In a quiet and comfortable way she had a great affection for him and she was sure he had for her. The knowledge that he had greatly desired to marry Sarah Lennox and that he had given her up out of a sense of duty was not exactly comforting, particularly as she was obliged now and then to see Lady Sarah, who was an undoubted beauty, and although married to Sir Charles Bunbury, had many admirers. Sir Charles she had heard was more interested in racing than his wife, and Sarah was very fond of her cousin Lord William Gordon and was constantly seen in his company. Such Court gossip did not interest her although her women chattered about it constantly. The only matter that concerned her was that there was no mention of the King’s having an attachment for Lady Sarah.

She did occasionally hear a whisper about a Quaker girl in whom George had once been interested, and oddly enough she could not shrug that aside as easily as she could the affair with Sarah Lennox. For one thing it was more secret, and that in itself suggested it was more to be feared. Everyone knew of the attachment for Sarah and many had remarked that the King scarcely looked at Sarah on the occasions when it was necessary for them to meet. They talked of the King’s virtue and respectability. How many kings who had all the opportunities in the world, had resisted temptations and remained faithful to their wives? It was difficult to recall one. Even sour old William of Orange had had his mistress. And it was not as though George was blessed with such a beautiful fascinating wife either.

Charlotte sighed. George was a good man and a good husband and she was lucky – and once again … pregnant. There would be a little gap between the birth of Fred and this child. It was what she had needed; the time between her darling firstborn and his little brother had been too short. Now young George, already a little autocrat of the nursery, but so beautiful, and so bright, would be three years old by the time the new baby appeared and little Fred would be two.

Oh, she was fortunate indeed. But she wished that the King’s health would improve. He was young to have these vague ailments which seemed to upset him so. In a man of fifty or even forty they would have been understandable; but George was not
yet thirty. It was the worries of state. Dear George, he was too conscientious.

But how pleased he was to hear that they might expect another child.

*

The King was extremely upset. He paced up and down his apartments. He did not wish to see anyone, but Charlotte went to him.

‘George. You must tell me what is wrong.’

George looked at her blankly as though he did not know who she was. She took his arm and looked into his face.

‘Hannah …’ he said. ‘Hannah …’

Her heart leaped and then seemed to stop for a second before it raced on. He was looking at her so oddly, as though he thought she were another person. And Hannah! That name which she had heard whispered before. Hannah Lightfoot, the Quaker.

‘George … I beg of you, tell me what is on your mind.’

His eyes seemed to come into focus. He looked more like himself. ‘Charlotte,’ he said. ‘Charlotte, my wife … the Queen.’

‘What has happened, George? You are ill.’

‘Oh, yes, yes …’ he said.

‘Pray sit down. I will call the doctors.’

He shook his head but allowed her to lead him to a chair.

‘Call no one,’ he said. Then as though speaking in a daze, ‘She is dead. Hannah is dead. This time it is true.’

Charlotte knelt at his feet and taking his hand looked up pleadingly into his face.