The Third George: (Georgian Series)

by Jean Plaidy

  What a strange thought! Women get strange ideas during pregnancies, she told herself; but she remembered that later when she heard Elizabeth say something about the King’s fondness for Quakers and to say it with a little derisive laugh which could mean almost anything.

  Then Charlotte remembered the Lord Mayor’s Show which they had watched from the Barclay house in Cheapside. Yes, the King was undoubtedly fond of Quakers.

  *

  St James’s! That grim dark prison of a palace. How different from dear Richmond. What a pity she could not go there to await the arrival of her second child. But no, the child must be born in London; he might be king if anything happened to little George – which God forbid. But Kings and Queens had to be prepared for these contingencies.

  All through the hot August days she waited. George was frequently with her and often seemed worried; in fact he had never been completely well since that illness he had had before the birth of little George. Politics worried him. There was always some trouble and now it was that ugly Mr Wilkes. Charlotte did not know what the trouble was all about, only that it was trouble. She tried to learn something of it during her brief sessions with her ladies who often disagreed together about the rights and wrongs of the affair. And when she tried to broach it with George he indulgently told her that she must not bother her head with this unpleasantness; it would be bad for the child. As for the Princess Dowager she said that the King would doubtless tell her all he wished her to know.

  Where was the determined girl who had written to King Frederick? She seemed to have become lost in the mother. When Charlotte had first come to England she had imagined herself ruling this country with her husband; she had promised herself that she would try to understand state affairs so that she could be of use to him.

  But she was shut out from these affairs.

  When my baby is born, she promised herself, it will be different.

  *

  On 16 August, one year and four days after the birth of his brother George, Prince of Wales, Charlotte gave birth to her second son.

  He was a perfect child, strong and lusty. Now everyone was saying that Charlotte was going to be a real breeder. Two healthy boys in two years of marriage. What better sign than that.

  The King was delighted. His cares seemed to drop from him. Nothing seemed to matter as he held the boy in his arms. Wilkes could rant and rave all he liked; his government could plague him; his disappointment in Bute was bitter, but he could endure that too when he thought of his growing family. Two boys and a wife who would bear him many more, he was sure. He was a lucky man.

  The little boy was named Frederick Augustus and very soon he and his mother, with little brother George, were all enjoying the Richmond air.

  A Wedding in the Family

  IT WAS HARDLY to be expected that Wilkes would not cause more trouble and that he was determined to do this became obvious during that autumn and winter.

  The storm arose when he published an obscene poem called An Essay on Woman which was a burlesque on Pope’s Essay on Man. There seemed to be little doubt that Wilkes himself had had a hand in the writing of this and as there were only twelve copies printed, he had apparently meant them only for circulation among those of his friends who delighted in pornography.

  One of the copies came into the possession of Lord Sandwich. When Sandwich and Wilkes were both members of the Medmenham Circle they had been friends until Sandwich had one day called to the Devil to appear before him. Wilkes – knowing this was a habit of Sandwich’s – had previously acquired an ape which he had dressed up to look like the Devil and just as Sandwich called out to the Devil to appear, Wilkes arranged that the ape should be let in. Sandwich was so alarmed that he turned and fled in abject terror – to the delight of Wilkes. Discovering the trick Wilkes had played on him Sandwich never forgave him, and when the Essay on Woman came into his hands he saw an opportunity of getting his revenge.

  Only a few months earlier Sandwich had become one of the Secretaries of State and had changed his mode of life since the days when he had been one of the leading spirits of Medmenham. Now, expressing his horror that such a hideously obscene and blasphemous work should have been written and printed, he read parts of it to the House of Lords. Wilkes had written notes in the margin of the essay which he had signed with the Bishop of Warburton’s name because Warburton had added notes in the margins of Pope’s Essay on Man: and when Warburton heard that his name had been used on this foul document he rose in his wrath and castigated Wilkes whom he compared with the Devil. Then he apologized to the Devil for putting him in the same company as Wilkes. So fiercely did the Bishop rage that even those who had been inclined to support Wilkes turned against him. Wilkes had gone too far this time; and when Warburton suggested that proceedings should be taken against Wilkes, charging him with blasphemy, it was agreed that this should be done.

  Meanwhile an attack was being made on Wilkes in the Commons, and during this the member for Camelford, Samuel Martin, referred to him as a coward and a scoundrel. Wilkes declared that he had no alternative but to challenge Martin to a duel.

  Now the drama was at its height. Everyone waited for the outcome; and when Wilkes met Martin in Hyde Park and was wounded by him, popular excitement grew.

  The rumour spread that Wilkes’s enemies had deliberately commanded Martin to wound Wilkes; and the mobs were out. Always eager for excitement, they paraded the streets and when one of the City Sheriffs, on order from Parliament, proceeded to burn number 45 of The North Briton before the Royal Exchange, a crowd gathered to prevent him. The North Briton was captured and while one section of the crowd carried it through the streets in triumph, another remained by the fire to throw in jackboots and a petticoat or two to show who they thought were behind all the trouble.

  Wilkes meanwhile, on pretext of being wounded in the duel with Martin, remained in his house and did not leave it although he was summoned to appear at the bar of the House of Commons to answer for his sins.

  This Wilkes had no intention of doing, and when he saw that he could no longer avoid appearing before his judges he slipped over to the Continent where he fell in with a well-known courtesan named Corradini with whom he set up house. Friends of his, determined to support Wilkes and the cause of freedom, sent him money; and Wilkes settled down for a few months of pleasure, amused to think how he had outwitted them all on the other side of the Channel.

  *

  Wilkes’s departure did not make matters easier. There was trouble over the tax which Dashwood as Chancellor of the Exchequer proposed should be levied on cider, and a clash in the Commons when George Grenville sought to defend the measure, pointing out the necessity of imposing new taxes.

  ‘Since there was such objection to the cider tax,’ said Grenville plaintively, ‘he wished gentlemen would tell him where to lay them.’

  Pitt rose and imitating Grenville’s voice repeated the words of an old song: ‘Gentle shepherd, tell me where.’

  Grenville furiously demanded if it was to be permitted that gentlemen were to be treated with contempt. At which Pitt made a deep bow and hobbled out of the House. From then on the mob shouted after Grenville whenever he appeared; and he was known as the Gentle Shepherd.

  This was typical of the day. The people seized on anything that caused ridicule and raised a smile. There was trouble and laughter side by side; and the mob was always ready to make a carnival of some poor politician’s misfortune.

  But their greatest target was Bute. No one could take the place of him. If his carriage appeared they would leave everything to follow it. Some were armed with cudgels; and the Princess Dowager lived in terror that something would happen to her lover. When he came to her she would embrace him warmly and tell him that she trembled to think of what could befall him.

  ‘I cannot endure this,’ she said. ‘I am terrified.’

  Bute passed his hand over his brow. How he had changed! In the old days he had believed everything was possible; now he accept
ed defeat.

  ‘Nothing is what I thought it would be. It is due to Pitt. If we had been able to keep Pitt all would have been well.’ He grimaced. ‘I am no Pitt, Augusta,’ he said.

  ‘That man!’ she said. ‘He deserted us.’

  Bute smiled and taking her hand kissed it. ‘So loyal. I don’t deserve you, Augusta. Let us face the truth. I have failed.’

  ‘What nonsense! You don’t know the meaning of failure.’

  ‘If you had been with me in the carriage this afternoon; if you had heard the shouts of the mob … seen their menacing faces …’

  She shuddered. ‘Please don’t talk of it.’

  ‘It exists, Augusta, my love. You see, I thought I could be a great politician. The fact is, I can’t. I haven’t the genius for it … like Pitt and Fox. Men like that … they start up out of the crowd and they make the rest of us look like dwarfs in comparison.’

  ‘My dear, you are overwrought. If I could do what I wished to that senseless mob …’

  ‘They are not entirely senseless. They are aware of greatness. You have heard them cheer Pitt.’

  ‘Don’t talk of that man. But for him …’

  ‘My dearest, he is a great politician. Let us face it. The country needs him at the head of affairs. While I am there I am bringing discredit to the King. Do you know that since I have been in office his popularity has waned considerably. And always they talk of us.’

  ‘Oh, my dear, what do you propose to do about it?’

  ‘Resign. Advise the King to call back Pitt and try to make some arrangement with him.’

  Augusta put her face against his coat. It was not what they had planned. She and he had believed they would rule the country together; they would guide the King. But it had all gone wrong somewhere. It had started when Mr Pitt refused to be guided and showed so clearly that if he were going to take a part in leading the country he would be in sole command.

  To give up their plan was defeat. And yet if she wished to keep her lover safe, if she wished their relationship to continue in a dignified way, she must take him away from the glare of publicity.

  What joy it would be not to have to fret as to what was happening to him every time he was in the streets! She wanted power; but she was a woman who most of all wanted a happy domestic life. She looked upon Bute as her husband – in fact more so than she had ever regarded Frederick.

  His safety came first, and the ability to go on living together as husband and wife as they had for so many years.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘go to George and tell him that you can no longer continue.’

  Bute embraced her warmly.

  ‘To be with you … to have you care for me as you do … that is enough for any man,’ he said.

  *

  George showed no great surprise nor disappointment as he listened to Lord Bute.

  ‘My health will not stand the strain,’ explained Bute. ‘By remaining in office I can only do a disservice to Your Majesty.’

  George looked at his dearest friend with lack-lustre eyes. Who would ever have thought to hear him say that! Bute, always so full of vitality; the man to whom he had turned in his youthful dilemmas. And now he was confessing to age, ill-health and inability to hold his post.

  ‘I believe you to be right,’ said the King.

  Bute was hurt that George should take it so calmly. He had expected a show of deep regret, even pleading that he would continue in office. It was disconcerting. But George had changed lately. He too was disillusioned.

  ‘If Pitt would take over the leadership,’ began Bute.

  But the King shook his head. ‘He dictates to me. I will not be dictated to.’

  ‘Grenville is the man, then,’ went on Bute.

  ‘Yes, I think it must be George Grenville.’

  Bute took his leave and reported to the Princess Dowager that the King had taken his decision to retire very calmly. He felt that George was slipping away from them and clearly believed that he could manage very well without them.

  ‘You don’t think,’ said the Princess Dowager, ‘that Charlotte is weaning him from us?’

  ‘Charlotte! But she is never allowed to take part in anything.’

  ‘No, but he goes to Richmond and it is all very cosily domestic there. She is now speaking English tolerably well and can understand what is going on around her. She is not the meek creature some believe her to be. You remember that letter she wrote to Frederick of Prussia. Do you think a girl who could write such a letter would be content to remain in the background?’

  ‘No, I do not. I think there is much in what you say.’

  ‘And he goes to her whenever possible. He seems to have an affection for her. These babies of hers … they make a bond between them. She is not yet pregnant again – or if she is I have not heard of it, but she had these two boys in a very short time, and the King is delighted with her. Oh, she’s plain enough – but George was always amenable. Yes, I think Charlotte might well be influencing him.’

  ‘He has always said that he would never be influenced by women.’

  ‘Poor George,’ smiled Augusta. ‘He does not always understand himself.’

  *

  The Princess Dowager called on the Queen at Richmond. Charlotte was looking well and told the Princess that she found life at Richmond to her taste, and it was very pleasant when the King could spare time from his duties to stay with his family.

  The Princess studied her daughter-in-law carefully. No further signs of pregnancy. A pity! That would keep Charlotte occupied.

  She was conducted to the nurseries where she was delighted with the children. Little George was bright-eyed and his mother assured her, very intelligent. He was over a year old now and really taking notice. His nurses said that they had never known such a bright child.

  The Princess Dowager sat nodding like an old mandarin. Mother’s talk, she thought.

  ‘And the baby?’

  ‘Oh, little Fred is adorable.’

  ‘I wonder if he will be like his grandfather,’ smiled Augusta, softened by the charm of the children. ‘Oh, but he is just like his dear papa. Does George think so?’

  ‘George thinks he takes a little after me,’ admitted Charlotte.

  God help him! thought the Princess. No, he has his father’s big eyes and chin. How could George see that crocodile mouth in such an enchanting little creature! Like Charlotte indeed! If George thought that he must be growing very fond and foolish.

  That brought her to the matter uppermost in her mind and which had urged her to take the journey out to Richmond.

  Was Charlotte beginning to influence George so that he no longer felt so affectionate towards his mother and Lord Bute? It was very likely.

  ‘Dear George, the Government is so tiresome.’

  ‘Oh, yes. He was most upset over that horrible Mr Wilkes.’

  He is talking to her, thought the Princess.

  ‘These dreadful people who will not let us live in peace.’

  ‘And Mr Grenville tries the King sorely,’ went on Charlotte. ‘George says that when Mr Grenville has wearied him for two hours he looks at his watch to see if he cannot tire him for one hour more.’ Charlotte laughed, but was sober almost immediately. ‘But the Government is most trying. The King would be happier if Mr Pitt would come back, but of course, Mr Pitt never does anything except on his own terms.’

  ‘So the King discusses these matters with you?’

  Charlotte put her head on one side. It would not be truthful to say that was so, but it was very tempting to do so. The King answered her very briefly if she attempted to discuss politics. She learned most of the news from her women. Yet she hated to admit this to the Princess.

  ‘These affairs are of the utmost importance,’ said Charlotte evasively.

  So this is the answer, thought the Princess. We are being relegated to a back seat while he confides in this silly young girl who knows nothing of state affairs in this country whatsoever. She is advising the King wh
ile he turns away from his own mother and … her dearest friend and his.

  Charlotte had too high an opinion of herself. She did not know how reluctant George had been to marry her. She did not know how he had hankered after Sarah Bunbury – Lennox that was. She thought that when she had come over here George had taken one look at her and fallen in love with her. No wonder the silly little creature gave herself airs.

  The Princess Dowager would not allow that.

  ‘I am glad that you are happy with George, my dear,’ she said quietly but in a deadly voice. ‘We were a little anxious … just at first. I daresay you have heard about his obsession with Sarah Lennox. There is bound to be tittle-tattle.’

  ‘Sarah Lennox …’ echoed Charlotte, wrinkling her brow.

  ‘Married Charles Bunbury about the time of the King’s illness. A pretty, empty-headed creature.’

  Charlotte remembered her at the wedding. The bridesmaid who was the most beautiful girl she had ever seen. And George had looked at her … longingly. She felt suddenly sad.

  ‘He wanted to marry her. It was quite impossible of course. Then he saw sense and … he behaved as he knew a king should. And how right it was. Here you are with two beautiful babies. They couldn’t be more beautiful, I am sure.’

  Charlotte sat still thinking of it. The wedding; the sacrifice he had had to make. Yet he had never mentioned it; he had never been unfaithful to her, she was sure. Poor George, to have been robbed of his dreams as Christina had been of hers. She often thought of Christina. Only Christina had no one; George had been presented with Charlotte; and he had married because it was his duty to marry; and they had two beautiful children. Sarah Lennox could not have produced more beautiful children. That was what the Princess was telling her.