The Third George: (Georgian Series)

by Jean Plaidy

  She heard herself say: ‘It is sad for royal people that their wives and husbands should be chosen for them.’

  ‘It is all for the best. I had never seen my husband until I came to England, and it all turned out very happily. We had our children and then …’

  And then, she thought, he died and I turned to the man I loved. Yes, she had been fortunate, but it was Charlotte and George she must think of.

  ‘And now, my dear, you have your children.’

  Charlotte picked up the baby and held him tightly against her. All was well. George was a good husband; and she had the boys. Why should she care about Sarah Lennox?

  ‘I am sure,’ went on the Princess, ‘that George has forgotten Sarah Lennox … just as he did the Quaker girl.’

  ‘The Quaker!’

  ‘Oh, it is nothing. Past history, one might say. But there was rather an unfortunate little matter.’

  ‘A Quaker girl,’ repeated Charlotte.

  ‘Has he ever talked to you of her?’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘Nor of Sarah Lennox?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then he would not wish it to be known that I have mentioned these women.’

  ‘I shall not tell him.’

  ‘He would be distressed if you spoke of them. He always said that he would manage his own affairs.’

  Charlotte was silent.

  ‘George was never one to like interference,’ went on the Princess Dowager. Was the message sinking in? Did she understand that George was capable of liking other women, that he was not the dull unadventurous husband she had no doubt been thinking him? Was she beginning to see that if she wished to keep George’s affection she must not interfere?

  The baby began to cry and Charlotte hastily picked him up. She had dismissed the nurse while she showed her children to the Princess Dowager and had the pleasure of knowing herself in command of them. It was not often so.

  The baby was immediately soothed.

  What had she to fear, she asked herself, when she had her little boys?

  Sarah Lennox was safely married and out of the way; but she did wonder about the Quaker, for she had noticed on several occasions that George was deeply affected by them.

  *

  The Princess went back to her apartments well pleased with her interview. There she sent for her daughters, Augusta and Caroline Matilda. As they came into the apartment she thought how sulky Augusta looked nowadays; it was always so with princesses who were unmarried. Augusta was a year older than George and was naturally resentful that she had not been born a boy.

  In fact, thought the Princess Dowager, perhaps Augusta would have made a better sovereign. They should find a husband for her before it is too late. Perhaps now that dear Lord Bute was free of his cares it would be more like it used to be and they could plan together.

  Caroline Matilda, aged thirteen, showed signs of being the beauty of the family. She was very very fair, as the whole family were. The blue eyes, the fair skin, the shining hair – so pleasant in youth. But they must watch that she did not become too fat – a family failing.

  Husbands, thought the Princess Dowager, for them both. She would certainly speak to Lord Bute.

  She embraced the girls coolly – she had not much affection to show to any but Lord Bute and the King – and made a sign for them to sit down.

  ‘I have visited the Queen at Richmond.’

  ‘Domestic bliss,’ sneered Augusta.

  Poor girl, thought her mother. She is very envious. Yes, certainly a husband.

  ‘She is happy enough with her two babies.’

  ‘What a fortunate thing that she happens to be fruitful. She has little else to offer.’

  ‘I don’t think she’s so bad,’ put in Caroline Matilda; and was silenced by looks from both mother and sister.

  ‘She is getting a little arrogant, I fancy. I believe she imagines she advises the King.’

  ‘That explains why there is all this trouble with the Government,’ said Augusta, who enjoyed being spiteful.

  ‘I am sure the King would never take her advice,’ said the Princess Dowager coolly.

  ‘Then there is some other reason why the people are so dissatisfied.’

  How much did her daughter know? wondered the Princess Dowager. Did she know that the people paraded through the streets with jackboots and petticoats, that they made bonfires in which to burn them, erected gibbets on which to hang them?

  ‘The people are never satisfied,’ said the Princess Dowager. ‘I want you two to be watchful of the Queen. She is not very old – not much older than Caroline Matilda here. She could be led astray.’

  The Princesses’ eyes widened and their mother hurried on; ‘I mean that she could listen to gossip. She could become indiscreet and she might attempt to influence the King.’

  ‘George always said that he would never let a woman influence him. But what of Sarah Lennox?’

  ‘I do not wish you to speak disrespectfully of the King because he happens to be your brother.’

  ‘But Your Highness will face the truth I am sure,’ said the Princess Augusta. ‘Everyone knows George was madly in love with Sarah Lennox.’

  ‘The woman is safely married now. Though I pity Bunbury. I do not wish you girls to talk of that unfortunate affair. But I do wish you to draw out Charlotte as much as possible. Discover whether the King really does confide in her …’

  ‘In other words spy on her,’ said the Princess Augusta, ‘as you commanded us to do on the King when he was considering marrying Sarah Lennox.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ said her mother. ‘I merely wish you to help Charlotte.’

  The Princess Augusta was smiling sardonically. And in front of Caroline Matilda! There was no doubt about it, thought the Princess Dowager, her elder daughter was getting out of hand. She was becoming sardonic and cynical and very much aware that she was growing into an old maid.

  She had not only Charlotte to worry about, but her own Augusta.

  She dismissed her daughters; and decided that since Augusta was becoming so uncomfortable they certainly must find a husband for her.

  *

  The Princess Dowager did not wish the King to forget that although Lord Bute was no longer the head of the Government she still regarded him as the chief family adviser, and when she called on the King to speak to him about his sister’s unmarried state she asked Lord Bute to meet her in the King’s apartments.

  They did not travel together; that would have been inviting the mob to hurl obscenities at them; it was bad enough now to go through the streets and see the jackboot and petticoat paraded or some of the posters which had been put up in prominent places.

  The Princess liked to travel as quietly as possible and she knew that Lord Bute did too.

  The King received them with affection, but not that deference he had shown in the past. She had no need now to tell him to be a king, as she constantly had been obliged to in the old days. George was very much aware of the burdens of state and wanted no one to remind him of them.

  ‘It is of your sister Augusta that I have come to talk to you,’ said the Princess. ‘We have been discussing her future and we really feel it is time you did something for her.’

  ‘But what should be done?’ asked George.

  ‘She needs a husband. She grows more waspish every day. Don’t forget she is a year older than you. We must do everything possible to find her a husband.’

  ‘It is not easy to find a Protestant prince.’

  ‘That has always been the trouble. But we must marry her to someone. She needs marriage I am sure and she is becoming a little tiresome here at Court.’

  ‘Poor Augusta!’ said George. ‘Certainly we must do what we can for her.’

  The Princess Dowager sighed. ‘She feels it deeply being the eldest and not born a boy. I shall never forget the night she was born and how we hurried from Hampton to St James’s because your father hoped she would be a boy and it was imperative that the heir t
o the throne be born there. There was nothing ready for us and the beds were unaired. Poor Augusta had to be wrapped in a tablecloth.’

  Both Lord Bute and the King had heard this story many times before, but they listened sympathetically.

  ‘And when the Queen … your grandmother, George, came to see her she said she was a poor little mite to be born into a sad world. And so it seems. Poor Augusta! She has never been reconciled to being born a girl. So we must find a husband for her, George.’

  ‘We will do our best.’

  ‘And soon, George. There should not be a long delay. Augusta can no longer be called very young.’

  ‘We will consider the matter as urgent,’ said George. He looked to Bute and something of the old relationship was between them. ‘I found Grenville arrogant,’ he said. ‘And Pitt … well, Pitt is difficult too. I took your advice and summoned him. I felt it was necessary now that Egremont has died. But Pitt will return on his own terms. He wants to restore the Whigs. If Pitt would come as head of the Government all well and good. But now he will bring back the Whigs. I said to him: “Mr Pitt, my honour is concerned and I must support it.” So Grenville continues in office and plagues me and tires me and bores me.’

  ‘Ah, what times we live in,’ sighed Bute; but he had no consolation to offer.

  It was very different, thought George, from the old days.

  But he must devote himself to arranging a marriage for his elder sister. Poor Augusta! Naturally she wanted to marry and have children before it was too late. He understood that. He had his two at Richmond. How he wished he could escape to them and play with them and enjoy the life of a country squire.

  But duty must come first. In a few days he was negotiating a marriage between his sister Augusta and Charles, Duke of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel.

  *

  If George was displeased with George Grenville, so was Grenville with George.

  For one thing Grenville knew that the King had approached Pitt and it was only because Pitt’s terms were impossible that Grenville was invited to stay in office.

  Having learned that Pitt had had an interview with the King, Grenville went on to discover that this had been brought about through the work of Bute; and that it was Bute in the first place who had suggested Pitt to be approached.

  Grenville in a rage went to see the King.

  As soon as George received him he began one of his lectures which the King found so tiresome, and as George yawned and watched the clock Grenville made no attempt to cut it short. At length the King, exasperated beyond endurance, said that he had other matters to which he must attend. Grenville replied that he would come to the point and tell His Majesty of his disquiet that Lord Bute, who had resigned from the Government at the people’s desire, should still hold so much influence with His Majesty that he could suggest the recall of Mr Pitt, and that that recall would have been brought about – but for Mr Pitt’s intransigence.

  The King was trying to catch at the gist of this harangue when Grenville said: ‘Sire, I can only continue in office if I can be assured that Lord Bute does not enjoy secret conferences with Your Majesty.’

  ‘I will give you that assurance,’ replied the King. ‘But it is true that I invited Mr Pitt to come and see me at Lord Bute’s suggestion. It shall not happen again.’

  ‘I sincerely hope it will not,’ said the Minister grimly, knowing that if he resigned on account of Bute and the people knew – and he would make sure that they did – the King’s unpopularity would increase and so would the lampoons and manifestations of the City’s hatred against Bute.

  ‘And Your Majesty, if I am to continue in office I must insist that Lord Bute leaves London.’

  ‘Leaves London!’

  ‘Your Majesty it is a condition of my service. If Your Majesty feels that it is impossible to banish Lord Bute then I shall be compelled to deliver to you my seals of office.’

  George was angry, but he could see that he was at the Minister’s mercy. Would any minister have dared to speak to his grandfather like that? There had been lampoons about George II and it was said that he was ruled by his wife and Sir Robert Walpole which doubtless had been true, but no one would have dared put such conditions to him as Grenville had just done to George III. Of course he was young, a novice at the art of ruling; and he was weary and tired and his head ached and he felt far from well. But he knew that he dared not lose Grenville at this time, so Bute would have to leave London.

  George muttered: ‘I will ask Lord Bute to leave us for a while.’

  ‘And Your Majesty, it could not be permitted that one of Lord Bute’s friends take over his office of Keeper of the Privy Purse.’

  ‘Good God,’ cried George, humiliated into a display of anger, ‘Mr Grenville, am I to be suspected after all I have done?’

  Grenville murmured: ‘It is imperative to Your Majesty’s Ministers and to the City of London that Lord Bute is not suspected of being Your Majesty’s chief adviser.’

  The King turned away and when his minister had left, sent for Lord Bute to tell him that he must leave.

  He was surprised at Bute’s meek acceptance of dismissal, though he himself would have given a good deal to escape from his bickering ministers. But he was not particularly sorry either. When he thought of the old days when he had doted on this man, when he had been terrified of mounting the throne without him beside him, he was astonished that everything could have changed in a comparatively short time.

  ‘It will only be a temporary absence,’ he murmured. ‘But I had no alternative but to agree to it.’

  Bute nodded.

  ‘You will tell my mother?’

  Bute answered that he would.

  After he had gone the King sat thinking of them – Bute and his mother. In truth their relationship, of which the people in the streets had made him crudely familiar, shocked him. This was at the root of his changed feelings towards this man who had once been his dearest friend.

  And yet, he thought, I went through a form of marriage with Hannah. And if that were a true marriage and if Hannah still lives then I am not married to Charlotte. We are living in sin as my mother is with Lord Bute.

  No, it’s not true, he told himself. I must shut that thought right out of my mind. For what with Mr Pitt and Mr Grenville, Mr Wilkes and the rest I should go mad if I dwelt on that too.

  He would not think of it. Bute would go away for a while and his mother must needs put up with his absence. After all, hadn’t he been forced to give up Sarah completely? So why should his mother complain at giving up Bute for a few weeks?

  They must forget their own troubles and set about arranging Augusta’s marriage.

  *

  The Princess Augusta was very excited about her coming wedding. She had been presented with a picture of her future husband and was not displeased with it. Caroline Matilda was almost as excited.

  ‘One wedding begets another,’ she said. ‘It will be my turn next. Oh, Augusta, just imagine! You’ll go right away from us all to a strange land. I wonder what Brunswick’s like. I suppose it’s not far from Mecklenburg. How odd! You go there and Charlotte comes here.’

  ‘Nothing odd about it,’ said Augusta sharply. ‘It’s just the nature of things.’

  ‘Oh, the nature of things!’ cried Caroline Matilda, dancing round the apartment, her yellow hair streaming out behind her. ‘And the nature of things is that I’ll be the next one. When do you think there’ll be a wedding for me, Augusta?’

  ‘Not for years. You’re only a child.’

  ‘Thirteen. Charlotte was only seventeen. And as I told you, weddings come together. I’m longing to see Charles. I wonder if he’s like his picture. Are you shivering with apprehension?’

  ‘When you reach my age, child, you don’t shiver with apprehension, you only sigh with relief.’

  Caroline Matilda giggled. ‘I hope he’s a little more handsome than poor Charlotte.’

  ‘Hush! You are speaking of the Queen.’

 
‘Perhaps all Germans are plain.’

  ‘What about us? Are we not mostly German?’

  ‘That was Grandfather. We’re all English.’ Caroline Matilda surveyed her face thoughtfully in a mirror. ‘In fact,’ she went on complacently, ‘I think I am rather good looking.’

  Augusta laughed derisively and Caroline Matilda continued to giggle. Since Augusta knew she was to have a husband she had become much pleasanter to her young sister.

  And in January Prince Charles Frederick of Brunswick arrived in England.

  *

  George took an immediate dislike to his prospective brother-in-law, and so did the Prince to him. Charles Frederick was twenty-nine and high spirited; on the way over he had been talking with the utmost indiscretion about English politics; he had stated that the King was inexperienced and had been led by the nose by Lord Bute, before that gentleman had been sent packing, while refusing the services of one of the greatest politicians alive, by whom he meant William Pitt. When this conversation was reported to the King and his ministers it did not endear them to the visitor.

  As for the Princess Dowager, she declared that she had never liked his family. She had accepted him as her daughter’s husband, she told Lord Bute, when he paid his secret visits to her – for it was not to be expected that they would give those up – but the old Duchess of Wolfenbüttel was the most disagreeable woman she had ever known, and everyone was aware that she had refused her daughter for George, although his grandfather had tried to foist the girl on to him.

  If it was not for the fact that Augusta must have a husband she would never have agreed to the match. But Augusta really was a trying creature; her tongue was so sharp and she was interesting herself too deeply in politics. She was a supporter of Pitt’s and with her brother, the Duke of York, was actually taking sides with the Opposition and those who were against the policy of the Court. Augusta was a real meddler. Well, let her meddle in Brunswick.

  The Princess Dowager went to see her son to talk of the coming ceremonials.

  ‘I don’t see why we should go to any length to impress Brunswick,’ said Augusta.

  ‘Nor I,’ agreed George.

  ‘The fellow is an oaf. He would not know the difference between a Court ceremony or a country-house ball. So why go to the expense?’