by Cheyenne
many of the members of the household lodged. Certainly Kew was not like living
at Court; it was even not like a King’s residence. Perhaps that was why she and
the King had always been so fond of it.
But Kew had changed; it was full of memories. She remembered how they
had brought the King from Windsor when it had first been known that he was
mad, and sometimes at night in her sleep she was disturbed by the sounds of that
rambling voice going on and on, growing more and more hoarse; she thought of
that occasion when the King had seized the Prince of Wales by the neck and tried
to strangle him and how the hatred shone in those mad eyes of his; she
remembered a time when he had embraced their youngest daughter Amelia until
the child had screamed aloud in terror because she thought he was going to
suffocate her. And that was love!
She would never forget the agonized look in those poor mad eyes when his
beloved child had been dragged from him and they had tried to force him into a
strait-jacket.
Memories of Kew! The King walking the grounds with his doctors, shouting
himself hoarse, beating in time to imaginary music, shaking hands with an oak
tree which he thought was the Emperor of Prussia. This had changed the face of
dear little Kew.
And, thought the Queen — how can we know when it will break out again,
and if it does and there should be a Regency— the Prince will do everything he can to curb my power.
But she would not let him because Mr. Pitt was on her side and Mr. ‘Pitt was
Prime Minister and cared little for the Prince of Wales. The Prince had allied
himself with Fox and the Whigs and that was enough to make Pitt stand against
him.
Mr. Pitt and I will rule between us, thought Queen Charlotte; and she
wondered how she could have come to hate her eldest son so much, he, whom
when he was a baby and a young boy, she had idolized. The others altogether had
not meant half so much to her as her first-born; and now she hated him.
Strong feelings for a mother— and such a plain little woman. Ah, but then it
was everyone. had thought her plain and insignificant for so many years that now
she saw the chance of exerting her power she seized it.
The King who had determined to keep her in her place— which meant
constantly bearing children— had had his way since their marriage. She had given
him fifteen children. Surely, she had done her duty? But now he was a poor
shambling than his living in creature— older than his years,
living in constant
fear that his madness would return.
And this had given the Queen her chance.
But the Prince was determined to flout her. He must marry, and he had chosen
Caroline of Brunswick when her brother’s charming daughter was available.
Was it possible even yet to get him to change his mind?
She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. They had now placed the
triangular cushion on. the crown of her head, and started to frizz her hair and
build it up round the cushion.
How ugly it is! she thought. And nothing they can ever do to me will beautify me. And what does it matter if they did. I am an old woman in any case.
‘Your Majesty, we are ready for the powdering—’
The powdering robe was wrapped about her and they began.
The powder seemed to get up her nose and into her throat today. It was all so
tiresome.
But now she was ready and she would go to her drawing room where the
Princesses were waiting for her.
The Princesses were there— all six of them. They curtsied and her sharp eyes
took in every detail to see that they did so in the approved manner. Twelve-year-
old Amelia was not as graceful as she should be; but one did not reproach Amelia; she was her father’s favourite and he could not bear her to be scolded. And
considering the soothing effect she had on him, thought the Queen, I suppose we
should all be grateful to the child and forgive Amelia her small weaknesses.
The Princess Royal was looking discontented. Poor Princess Royal, she was a
disappointed young woman. Young woman— well, she would not be that much
longer. She was twenty-nine and still no husband had been found for her. And
where could they find a husband for her when there was such a dearth of
Protestant Princes? The great difficulty was that any husband for the Princesses
must be both Royal and Protestant. It was a grave handicap. And when one
considered that there were five others all waiting hopefully for husbands— Oh
dear, how depressing! What a fearful problem marriage was. The sons did it
where they should not and the daughters looked for it in vain.
Perhaps it was not so clever to have had quite so many of them.
The Queen looked along the line of faces. Her little girls. She loved them.
They were so much more amenable than their brothers. They did not defy her and
the King. But perhaps they would if they had the opportunity,
‘My snuff box,’ she said sternly, looking at her eldest daughter, for it was
Princess Royal’s duty to present her with her snuff box on occasions like this and to see that it had been adequately replenished.
The Princess Royal presented it with a curtsey and the Queen took a pinch.
Ah, that was better! There was nothing like a pinch of snuff to revive the spirits.
‘Who is going to read to us this morning?’ asked the Queen, looking round.
‘Is it going to be you, Gouly?’
Miss Goldsworthy— Gouly, to the royal family— replied that since it was
Her Majesty’s wish she would be happy to begin the reading; and the work was
brought out, the Princesses and their ladies seated and the reading began.
How utterly boring! thought Charlotte, the Princess Royal. And this is how it goes on day after dreary day. And it will never change— unless the miracle
happens and I escape there was only one way in which a princess could escape—
through marriage, and who knew what that would bring Well, let it come
whatever it was. Anything was better than this complete and utter monotony.
She was twenty-nine years old and she had been twenty-six before she had
been allowed to meet anyone who had not been presented by the Queen. Now
having exceeded that ripe age she was allowed what they called a little freedom.
She might speak to people without Mamma’s consent. What freedom! It was
enough to make a young woman take the first lover that came along. And, thought
Princess Royal, soon I shall become so desperate that that is what I shall do. At twenty-six she had been permitted to select the books she wished to read; before
that she had been allowed only those which had been chosen by her mother
She had never forgotten how humiliated she had felt when she had
discovered Fanny Burney, the novelist who had for a time been a member of her
mother’s household, censoring Swift’s John Bull for her. And meanwhile her
brothers— Oh, her brothers! George most of all with his women and all the
country asking, is he married or is he not? And whispering the name of that
woman, Maria Fitzherbert And before that he had had that affair with the actress
known as Perdita Robinson who had threatened to publish his letters and had had
to be bought off with a pension for life. And
all this before he was twenty-one.
Now there was this scandal about Augustus; and there was William not caring for
the disapproval of his parents setting up house with a play actress. All this for the boys, while the girls were treated like nuns in a convent.
Small wonder that she was exasperated.
Soon I shall be thirty, she mourned. Thirty— forty— fifty. Who would be a princess at the dismal Court of George III?
The Princess Royal glanced at her sisters. Augusta was less conscious of their
plight. She was in any case two years younger; she was careless too of the manner in which she dressed— a little bit of a hoyden. She did not care so much for the
restrictions as Princess Royal did but shrugged her shoulders and accepted.
Twenty-five-year-old Elizabeth had a drawing block on a little table beside
her; she was sketching the group and was oblivious of Charlotte’s dissatisfaction Elizabeth wanted to be an artist, and although this was not taken seriously by the King and Queen, they saw no harm in her pursuing her little hobby. The King
kindly often asked to see her drawings and congratulated her on them.
Mary and Sophia— nineteen and eighteen— were just beginning to fret
under restraint; and Amelia at twelve had not begun to be aware of it. Papa’s
darling, she felt herself to be a very special member of the household and seemed quite content with her fate. She had not yet discovered the boring routine to be so tiresome walking with the dogs, bringing them into the Queen’s drawing room,
taking them out, making sure that Mamma’s snuff box was always filled each day
and that it was placed on the table beside her.
Oh the inanity of it all! The parade on the terrace in the evening when the
public came to look at them. There they were specially dressed for the occasion,
fluttering their fans and smiling and bowing to the occasional expressions of
approval.
All eyes were on Amelia, of course. That child would become quite conceited
And she furled and unfurled her fan and went through her special antics for their benefit, and if Papa were there he would be unable to take his eyes from her. She was never subjected to the harsh criticism which had come the way of the others.
One almost longed for Thursdays which was Court Day when the King and
the Queen had to be at St James’s. Not that there was anything exciting about that, it’s only virtue was that it was different.
Then Mamma would be dressed with special ceremony and travel to London
with her tippet and ruffles in a paper bag, as she said, to prevent their getting on the way. She behaved like some humble squire’s lady instead of a queen. And we
are expected to endure this just because it is their way of living. If the Prince of Wales were king, what a different Court that would be! She had heard Frederick
say that George had once told him that one of the first things he would do when
he came to the throne would be to find husbands for his sisters.
She believed he would. For at heart, in spite of the gay and romantic life he
led, George was kind; and while he wanted to enjoy his own life to the full and
that was doubtless the main purpose in it, he did like to see those around him
enjoying theirs. Whereas with Papa— boredom was synonymous with goodness.
Oh dear, what a life we lead! And I am nearly thirty and see no hope of
escape.
‘Princess Royal, take the dog out.’ The Queen’s voice sounded severe. She
should have noticed, of course. ‘And Gouly, your voice sounds tired. I think Miss Planta might care to read now. You may take over her sewing.’
When the Princess Royal returned to the apartment it was to find that a
paroxysm of coughing had seized Amelia.
‘Pat her back,’ commanded the Queen, which Sophia who was nearest
immediately did. ‘There, is that better?’
Amelia said it was. But a little later she began to cough again. She had got
that nasty cough and it was a mild source of anxiety to the Queen. She would
grow out of it, she told herself; but what did terrify her was that if the King should hear the child’s coughing, it would upset him so.
Amelia was now herself— small and dainty and very pretty. The word frail
came into her mother’s mind. Oh, no, Amelia was well enough. If she could
throw off that wretched cough— But she would and the most important thing of
all was that the King should not hear it. If he did he would begin to fret; he would make something out of it. Nothing must touch his darling Amelia and he would
remember that Octavius and Alfred had had unpleasant little coughs before they
died.
‘Are you better now, Amelia?’ asked the Queen sternly.
‘Yes, Mamma.’
‘Don’t cough when you are with Papa. He does not like coughs.’
Amelia would do her best. It was a breach of etiquette in any case to cough or
sneeze in the presence of royalty. The lady-in-waiting grew quite hilarious
explaining the methods employed to stop a sneeze. The favourite one was to place
the finger horizontally beneath the nose. That was if one felt it coming in time.
Coughing could be restrained more easily.
What silly rules! thought Princess Royal. How happy I should be if some prince offered for my hand. I should not let them refuse for me— not in any
circumstances. Anything would be better than this boring life at Kew.
It was time now for the Queen to retire to her apartments so she rose. The
Princesses rose too and dropped their bows and curtsies as their mother passed out of the room.
She went to the King’s apartments and found him seated at his table poring
over State papers. This was something she would not have dared do before his
illness. Now she was in command for he recognized himself as a feeble old man
who had once suffered a bout of madness; and the fear of its return was never far away.
He consulted her now. She and Pitt were the powerful ones. Although some
would like to see the Prince and Fox in that position.
‘The Prince is now eager for the negotiations to go forward,’ said the King.
‘That is a good sign, eh; what?’
‘To Brunswick?’ said the Queen hastily.
‘To Brunswick. My sister will be pleased, I am sure.’
‘She should be. The daughter from an obscure little Court to become the wife
of the heir to the Throne of England. Very pleased indeed.’
Charlotte remembered the excitement in as small a Court when the news had
come to Mecklenburg-Strelitz that the Prince of Wales— now King of England
and this poor man seated there at his table— had asked for her hand.
‘Very pleased. Keeping it in the family, eh, what? I’m relieved he is thinking
of settling down at last. It’s not before it’s necessary either. Perhaps he’ll soon have children. That should sober him.’
‘If anything could sober him,’ retorted the Queen. ‘I am wondering if this
Caroline is the best choice—’
‘There is only a choice of two— my niece or yours. And he has made that
choice. It is to be mine.’
The Queen’s mouth tightened. He had done it to spite her. He had passed over
beautiful intelligent Louise of Mecklenburg-Strelitz for the sake of this creature from Brunswick. And there was nothing she could do about it.
‘I am writing to Malmesbury at Hanover,’ said the King. ‘The time has come
for him to go to Brunswick and there make the formal offer for the hand of
Princess Caroline
.’
So, thought the Queen, it is too late then.
She remained with the King while the letter was written and sealed.
Then she left him and went to her own apartments. She thought of the
Princess who would be coming to the Court; she imagined how gauche she would
be, for had she herself not been exactly so on her arrival? The English Court was certain to be quite different from the poor little one of Brunswick. She herself had been very young— only seventeen and Caroline was twenty-seven, so she should
at least be more mature. But was that a point in her favor? A young girl would
have been easier to mould.
The Queen remembered those first weeks at her young husband’s court when
one of her biggest enemies had been. her sister-in-law the Princess Augusta who
had determined to make her life as unpleasant as possible. Waspish and angry,
doubtless because she was unmarried, she had tried to make trouble between the
new young Queen and her mother-in-law, the Dowager Princess of Wales, and the
latter had been nothing loath, for she had meant to keep her hold on the King and not have it slackened by the young bride, Queen though she might be.
I hated my sister-in-law Augusta, thought the Queen now. Arrogant mischief-maker. How pleased I was when she married and went off to Brunswick. And
once she had gone she was never welcomed back.
Nor shall her daughter be, Charlotte promised herself . I already hate the
creature.
———————
The Prince of Wales looked up from his writing table and across St. James’s
Park.
He then sighed and read through what he had written.
And I don’t mean a word of it, he said to himself, and taking his kerchief flicked it across his eyes. But it was a half-hearted gesture as there was no one there to witness it.
He quickly read through the letter. ‘Whichever way the Princess is to come, I
am clear it should be determined on instantly—’
Instantly, he thought. That meant that in a few weeks she could be here.
‘The very thought of it makes me feel ill,’ he murmured. ‘Yet it has to be.
There is no other way out.’
When he was married an adequate allowance would be his. Even his father
and Pitt could not deny him that. And his creditors were clamouring for payment
now. He was so deeply in debt that he dared not calculate how deeply. He had