Queen in Waiting: (Georgian Series) (27 page)

The King noticed the gracious smiles of his son as the people called a welcome. It was George Augustus who secured most of the limelight.

He must be watched, thought George. He must be kept in his place.

Greenwich Palace was very grand but the King was homesick for the Leine Schloss and Herrenhausen.

‘Your Majesty,’ he was told. ‘If you would stand at the window with the Prince the people would be pleased.’

He stood there – with George Augustus beside him. George Augustus was bowing, smiling, waving – most gracious, most affable. And the King saw that the people liked it, and that it was the Prince of Wales they cheered rather than the King.

On the river craft of all kinds were assembled; crowds jostled each other in the streets; every window was occupied; people shouted to each other; and it was clear that London was in a
festive mood. Sellers of pies and ballads called to the crowds to buy what they had to sell. The coffee and chocolate houses were full to overflowing; so were the taverns and even the very select mug houses. Under the brilliant painted signs – Mother Red Cap, The Merry Maidens, The Blue Cockade – knots of people gathered to talk excitedly of what the coming of a new king would mean.

There were the Jacobites who muttered darkly and whispered that this was an evil day for England; but these were few compared with the Protestants who were relieved that a new king had been chosen who would be true to the Reformed Church of England.

But even they talked of Germans. A pity, they thought, that the Stuarts had turned to Catholicism. How much more comfortable if King James’s son across the water had never become a Papist; then they would never have been obliged to bring in the Germans.

But today King George was making his entry into London and whatever had happened to bring him here, whatever would be the result was not to be thought of today. For this was a holiday, a day of pleasure; and every apprentice in the capital, every milkmaid, every merchant and his wife were going to see that a good time was enjoyed.

The Jacobites were the only ones who had been hoping for a dismal day. They would have preferred to see the rain teeming down in torrents or a cold wind to drive the people off the streets. But fate was on the side of the Guelphs that day; and the sun shone brilliantly. It was a glorious, golden September day.

Coaches emblazoned with arms led the procession from Greenwich and the spectators had an opportunity of seeing representatives of all the noble families of England.

There were exclamations and shouts as the coaches trundled by; and, breathless with excitement, the spectators waited for that which they had come to see – the royal coach.

And there it was – its glass glittering in the sun, and on the front seat the Duke of Northumberland and Lord Dorset; and inside – the new king and his son the Prince of Wales.

‘So that’s the King!’ There was a titter of dismay. He was
not exactly what they had expected. A man past fifty on whom the royal robes did not hang very becomingly; he had a rather sour expression and it was quickly noticed that although he bowed his head in acknowledgement of their cheers and put his hand on his heart as he did so as a token of his determination to be their very good king, he did not smile.

Beside him was a much more pleasant personality: the Prince of Wales. There was a young man, not exactly handsome, but with a pleasant expression and manner. He seemed to enjoy wearing his magnificent robes, and his gracious smiles showed that he liked the people too. Now there was a man who seemed glad to be in England.

‘God bless the Prince of Wales!’ cried a voice in the crowd and others took it up.

The young man placed his hand on his heart and bowed.

‘Don’t do that,’ said the King sharply.

‘But…’

‘I said don’t. It is for me to bow. You sit still and do nothing.’

George Augustus’s affable expression turned to one of hatred, but he quickly changed it, knowing that he was watched.

‘The Prince of Wales!’ cried the crowd. He was delighted. They liked him – not his father. This was triumph. They were accepting him as they never would his father. He wished Caroline were here to see him.

So he must not bow. Very well. He could do as much with a smile. They seemed to think so, for they continued to shout for him.

The King noticed and his expression grew more grim.

I’m glad we came to England, thought George Augustus. England is the place for me.

He was already planning the Court he would have to rival that of his father; and the thought gave him much pleasure.

The royal coach passed on and in the cavalcade following it were the coaches in which rode the Hanoverian friends and servants whom the King had brought with him.

In one of these were two women – one very tall and thin, the other short and fat. They made a grotesque sight, the raddled cheeks of one painted scarlet, the purple ones of the other
covered in white powder; the wig of one flaming red, the other jet black.

‘Who are they?’ was the cry; and the answer came promptly: ‘They are his mistresses.’

This was the occasion for which they had been waiting. George had pleased them at last; he had given them something to laugh at and there was nothing they liked better.

‘So that’s how he likes them. What kind of man is this they have brought us from Germany?’

‘Look at her. The Maypole, I mean… not the Elephant! Though look at her too! Did you ever see the like?’

‘Why did he bring those with him. Did he think we could not offer him better than that?’

The King’s mistresses had their nicknames – the Maypole and the Elephant, and because one was so tall and thin, the other so short and fat, they gave rise to ribaldry which went echoing through the crowds.

In the coffee houses the Jacobites reminded each other, and any who cared to listen, of the King’s cruelty to his wife and how even at this time she was languishing in a prison to which he had confined her many years ago.

‘This is the man you have brought here!’ cried the Jacobite speakers. ‘This man who hasn’t learned how to speak our language or even to smile.’

And even those who didn’t care whether a Guelph or a Stuart sat in the throne thought the new king was a sour-looking fellow.

The guns of the Tower boomed out and the Lord Mayor and City Father greeted the King while the Recorder read his speech of welcome. Then – over London Bridge to St Paul’s where children had been assembled to chant ‘God Save the King’, and flags were waved as the glass coach passed through the triumphal arches; the guns were booming and the bells from every church in London ringing.

Several people were already drunk on the wine which flowed from the fountains, and among the shouts of ‘God Save the King’ could be heard a growl or two.

If the King heard them he gave no sign; he was merely thinking that he would be glad when the procession had passed
through his capital city and had reached the comfort of St James’s Palace, for then the nonsense would be over. His new subjects were a frivolous lot; he had gathered that much. They were shouting for him now, but they would be shouting for James if he were offered to them; anything for free wine and a day’s holiday!

St James’s at last. He was glad it was over. Now for the banquet and more expressions of loyalty and then the comfort of bed.

George Augustus was flushed and triumphant; no doubts there as to his feelings for his new country! Bernstorff was right. He would have to be watched; and when his clever wife appeared, even more so.

He listened to the loyal addresses; he presided over a meeting of his Council; and after that to bed.

In the streets the feasting continued. The lights of a hundred bonfires sent a glow into the sky; there was dancing and singing; there were brawls and lovemaking. A typical holiday for the people of the new king’s capital who had always chosen any opportunity for making merry except in the days of the Puritans, since when they had been doubly merry to make up for those lost years.

‘Long live King George!’ sang the Protestants.

‘Damn King George!’ sang the Jacobites.

And, in his new palace – alas many miles from Hanover which he knew now how much he loved – the new King of England serenely slept.

God Save King George

FROM THE DECK
of the ship which was carrying her to England Caroline had her first glimpse of the land which would be her home and of which, if all went as she hoped, she would be Queen.

She had few regrets for what she had left behind, having caught the Electress Sophia’s enthusiasm for this land, compared with which, she fully believed, Hanover was a backward little state. True she had been unable to bring Leibniz but this was the land of Newton, Swift, Addison and Steele – and she would have an opportunity of meeting these men. Here they wrote their satires and their lampoons and through these they moulded public opinion and so had as great an influence on the conduct of the Kingdom as any ruler.

Of this land she would one day be Queen, unless the Jacobites arose and drove them away. The future seemed full of stimulating possibilities.

It was true that she had left two of her children behind. How sad and angry she had been to part from Fritzchen; the parting was so unnecessary. Why should a little boy of seven be separated from his parents because he must act as the representative of his
grandfather and father! How typical of the new King of England to care nothing for the tender feelings between a mother and her son. She would not rest until she had brought Fritzchen to England. And then baby Caroline had become ill just as they were about to depart and it had been thought wise to leave her behind. She would follow soon, but still it was sad to part.

The little girls, Anne and Amelia, five and three years old, now stood beside her, excitedly chattering as the land grew nearer and nearer. Anne pointed out the land to her little sister and told her what fun they were going to have in England; Amelia burst into tears now and then when she remembered Fritzchen, but Anne did not care. She was secretly pleased that he was left behind and there would be no one to strut and bully, and call attention to himself. She had explored the yacht
Mary
on which they were travelling; she had asked questions which the squadron of English men-of-war which had provided their escort.

And now land was in sight. The town of Margate was waiting to welcome them; and after the ten days’ journey from Hanover it was a pleasure to know that they were nearing their destination.

As the
Mary
came into the town, crowds had gathered to catch a glimpse of the new Princess of Wales. The people of Margate, who were both fishermen and farmers, rarely enjoyed such excitement and were determined to make the most of it; and the appearance of the newcomers pleased them. The Princess was a stately, comely woman, inclined to be plump but they liked her none the less for that. She was gracious to them and seemed genuinely pleased with their welcome; as for the little girls, they were quite enchanting in their excitement. Here was a lady who would have many children and give the country frequent reasons to celebrate. Poor Queen Anne – good Queen though she was – had been disappointed again and again in her hopes and there had been little cause for rejoicing on her account.

The two little girls squealed their delight in a foreign tongue, but that would soon be remedied, for England would be their home in future.

They did not stay in Margate, for at Rochester the Prince of
Wales was waiting to greet his family, and it was desirable that the Prince and Princess meet as soon as possible.

So out of the town of Margate rode the Princess and her escort, bowing and smiling to the people with the little Princesses beside her in the carriage, unable to restrain their pleasure.

It was October and the Kent countryside, though not at its best, showed signs of its fertility. Caroline scarcely saw it; she was more interested in the people who had come to give a loyal greeting – a more exuberant people than those of Hanover. They sang and danced to welcome her and some threw flowers at her carriage.

There was no sign on that journey to Rochester that the English were not delighted to have the Guelphs in England, although there was one whom some might call the King across the water.

And at Rochester George Augustus was waiting for her.

There in the sight of the crowds he embraced her; he lifted up the little girls and held them to his heart while the crowd cheered. How different was the dapper little Prince of Wales from his sour-faced father who had come riding into England accompanied by two grotesque mistresses, already known throughout the land as Elephant and Maypole; but here was the Prince with his affable smile, greeting his wife and children. And even those who had cried ‘Damn King George!’ had a greeting for the Prince and Princess of Wales.

‘It was too long to be parted from you,’ said George Augustus; and Caroline smiled her pleasure. ‘My one regret is that Fritzchen and Caroline are not with you.’

‘Caroline will soon follow.’

His face darkened. ‘But Fritzchen will remain. By God, I’ll never forgive him for this.’

‘Let us talk of it later.’ It was a gentle reminder that they were being watched, and she added hastily: ‘I see you have made a good impression.’

He was smiling. ‘You will too.’ Then he presented the Dukes of Somerset and Argyle to her.

The next morning they began their progress to London, and when they reached the capital the crowds lined the streets to see them. The Prince and Princess of Wales sitting side by side, hand in hand, smiling happily, and the little girls jumping up and
down laughing with delight was a sight to please everyone.

The journey to St James’s was a triumph.

Caroline was a success. Her majestic appearance combined with affability, her friendliness which went side by side with a royal manner, the fact that there was no Queen and she was the first lady in the land, the knowledge that the King had separated her from her son, all this made the English warm towards her. She spoke English – which the King could not, nor did he make any attempt to, a fact which displeased the English – and although she had a German accent which in itself was not pleasing, she peppered her speech with French and German words and had a quaint manner of expression which amused and therefore charmed.