The Third George: (Georgian Series)

by Jean Plaidy

  ‘It would be a great expense. And don’t forget we have already had to pay the fellow handsomely to take her.’

  ‘Eighty thousand pounds, an annuity of £5000 a year on Ireland and £3000 a year on Hanover. It’s being an expensive matter getting rid of Augusta. Now for heaven’s sake, do not let us add to the expense.’

  ‘We won’t; I am ordering that the servants should not have new livery.’

  George was looking better than he had for some months; he had always enjoyed working out details of household expenditure.

  ‘And,’ he went on, ‘I have decided that he shall be lodged at Somerset House and that there will be no need to station guards there.’

  Augusta nodded, approving, but thinking at the same time: ‘In the old days he would have consulted one of us first.’

  ‘Doubtless he will be unaware,’ said the Princess Dowager, ‘that he is not being treated with the respect one would naturally give to a gentleman in his position. I believe manners are very crude in Brunswick.’

  This may have been so, but the Prince was immediately aware of the coldness of his reception and was furious. He was by no means meek and had no intention of hiding his displeasure. He had distinguished himself on the battlefield with the armies of Frederick the Great and since he had come to England to take an ageing princess off their hands he had expected better treatment.

  The only one at the English Court who was pleased with him seemed to be his bride and she would have been pleased with any bridegroom. At least he was not deformed and she pretended not to notice his crudities. The ladies and gentlemen of the Court, taking their cue from the King, all showed their dislike of the bridegroom to such an extent that it would seem they were trying to influence the Princess Augusta against him.

  But the Prince of Brunswick discovered a way of having his revenge. When he went out into the streets and the people crowded about his carriage to see him pass, he was extremely affable and showed his interest in them; he waved and smiled and very soon he had them cheering him. There was an occasion when he saw a soldier in the crowd who had served with him in the field; he acknowledged the man and they talked for a while with the crowd pressing close. That cemented his popularity. Here he was a visitor to England, a young bridegroom, and he was slighted and insulted. He was pushed into Somerset House without a guard and it was clear by the way he was unescorted that he was being humiliated.

  The people were up in arms. This was a further cause for complaint against the King and his ministers. How dared they treat a visitor so! It was unpatriotic, unEnglish! Well, the people of London were going to teach their king manners.

  So wherever he went it was: ‘Long live the Prince.’ The women threw kisses; the men cheered themselves hoarse; and the Prince was slyly delighted. There was only one thing which would have discountenanced the King and his ministers more, and he proceeded to do it. He made overtures to the leading members of the Opposition – for having studied English politics he was aware of the effect this would have – and was invited to dine with the Dukes of Cumberland and Newcastle; and not content with that he visited William Pitt at his Hayes residence.

  ‘He’s a scoundrel,’ spluttered the King; but he had to admit that the Prince had outwitted him and his ministers and that this was one more failure.

  Four days after the Prince’s arrival he and the Princess Augusta were married.

  *

  The Princess Augusta found she had married a masterful man. He was not much concerned with the niceties of life and her introduction to his somewhat coarse mode of living was a little startling. Temporarily she was robbed of that arrogance which had always prevented her from making friends and there was something pathetic about this once self-sufficient woman now faced with a new life in a land of which she knew nothing, with a husband almost a stranger to her; all she did understand was that it would be very different from life as she had lived it hitherto.

  Caroline Matilda watched in awed silence. Marriage, she decided, was not the gay game she had once believed. Suppose when her turn came they gave her a husband like this prince. She shivered. She had pictured all husbands mild and gentle like her brother George.

  The bridegroom kept up his feud with the Court and two days after the wedding when he and his bride, with the King and Queen, paid a visit to the opera he had an opportunity of scoring over the King.

  Charlotte, taking her cue from George, was very cool to the Prince, and Augusta was displeased with her. Who, Augusta asked herself, does she think she is, to put on such haughty airs! The sister of a little Duke of Mecklenburg and she dares to patronize Brunswick!

  Charlotte was thinking how happy she was to have a husband like George. She shuddered, contemplating how different this man must be. George was so gentle, so tender, such a good father and husband. Poor Augusta! she pitied her.

  Augusta was in no mood to be pitied by silly little Charlotte who was kept almost like a prisoner at Richmond and Buckingham House and was never allowed to voice an opinion. And who was she to be sorry for her, Augusta, when everyone knew George had had to be persuaded to marry her and had only done so out of a sense of duty?

  As they entered the box, Augusta whispered: ‘The Opera House will be crowded tonight. Everyone will be here. I wonder if Sarah Bunbury will be? If she is, everyone will be looking at her … everyone. She is said to be the most beautiful woman at Court.’

  ‘I doubt they will look at her even so,’ said Charlotte. ‘Everyone will want to be looking at the bride and groom.’

  ‘Poor Sarah! She will have to be content to have George ogling her.’

  Charlotte flushed slightly but made no response. Did he, she wondered, still think of Sarah?

  Charlotte had moved to the front of the box with the King and they stood together looking down on the audience. There was silence in the Opera House. It was most embarrassing. George sat down and Charlotte did the same, and then the Princess Augusta and her husband came forward. Immediately the audience rose. A cry went up: ‘Long live the Prince and Princess.’

  There were loud hurrahs and ‘God bless the married pair’. And Augusta and her husband stood there bowing and accepting the cheers.

  Then to Charlotte’s horror she noticed that the bridegroom had his back to the King.

  This was an insult, an intentional insult.

  She glanced at George who, she saw at once, was aware of what was happening. His blue eyes bulged a little more than usual but he gave no sign.

  There was nothing he could do. The people were acclaiming the newly married pair so vociferously to make a contrast to the silence with which they had greeted their king and queen.

  *

  George had made up his mind.

  He told Grenville: ‘They must leave immediately. I will not have them here.’

  ‘Sire, the visit was to last a few more weeks.’

  ‘I do not care for that, Mr Grenville, sir. I say they shall leave the day after tomorrow and that is my final word on the subject.’

  George’s mouth was set in stubborn lines. He was determined on this matter to have his way.

  The Princess Dowager applauded his firmness. ‘I shall be glad to see the back of that man,’ she said, ‘and since Augusta married him she appears to be more impossible than ever.’

  So to the disgust of the Prince of Brunswick he was obliged to take his bride to her new home, for there was no longer to be hospitality for them in England.

  The Princess Augusta protested that the weather was too inclement for them to set sail for a while, but the King was adamant; weather or not they should go at once. He would not be insulted in his own country.

  The Princess stormed and wept for the prospect of leaving home became more alarming the nearer it grew. Her husband made no attempts to make her position easier. He had told her that she would have to accept his mistress Madame de Hertzfeldt whom he had no intention of giving up.

  ‘All that will be changed now,’ she told him; but he merely
laughed at her.

  ‘Listen,’ he said. ‘You bear a child and that’s all you need worry about.’

  ‘I shall refuse to receive your mistress,’ she told him.

  He roared with laughter. ‘It’s not you she wants to receive. It’s me. And we don’t receive in Brunswick. You’ll find it a bit different there, my girl, from your fancy English Court.’

  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.