by Jean Plaidy
All during that summer the Court hunted in Windsor forest on Wednesdays and Saturdays which, with his usual precision, the King had decided should be hunting time. The Queen, though she did not care for the hunt, was nevertheless obliged to attend, for the King would have been most displeased if she did not. She followed the hunt in her chaise, and Lord Hervey who confessed to her that he found no pleasure in hearing dogs bark and seeing crowds gallop, rode beside her and they continued their interesting discussions.
With the coming of autumn, news of the arrival of the Prince of Orange was brought to the Palace.
The King had decided that he should be lodged in Somerset House and then seemed to lose interest in him, and although the people were seething with excitement and longing for a glimpse of the bridegroom, George gave no orders for his reception.
So Orange came to Somerset House without much fuss and ceremony; but he would soon of course come to wait on the King.
The Queen sent for Lord Hervey.
He came, delicately handsome, and she gave him her hand, smiling warmly. Hervey kissed it with a flourish.
‘As always at Your Majesty’s service,’ he murmured.
‘Go along to Somerset House. I wish to know what sort of animal has come to England to marry my daughter. I hear he is most unprepossessing and I want to know the worst so that I don’t show too much shock when I am brought face to face with him.’
Hervey said that Her Majesty could trust him to bring her a truthful account.
* * *
Amelia came into her sister’s apartments prepared to commiserate.
‘He is here,’ she said. ‘He is at Somerset House.’
‘Is that so?’ replied Anne calmly. She was seated at her mirror studying her face, for her women had just left her after dressing her hair. Her complexion would really have been dazzling but for the ravages of the smallpox. But then, Anne consoled herself, who did not show signs of the smallpox? And it was in a way an asset because it showed that having passed successfully through the scourge, though scathed, one was for ever after immune.
‘You do not seem in the least concerned,’ said Amelia. ‘Should I?’
Amelia threw herself into a chair and folded her arms in a rather masculine gesture. ‘My God! she said. ‘Your bridegroom has arrived. He is in London. And you wonder whether you should be concerned!’
‘It is all settled. I have made up my mind.’
‘And you feel as calm as you look?’
‘I have accepted the fact that it must be this one or no one. Him I can tolerate; no one would be . . . unbearable.’
Amelia laughed. ‘You are ruled by your royal dignity, sister. You accept Orange only because he is a husband.’
‘He is a Prince too.’
‘That’s well enough but have you heard the rumours?’
‘I have known all the time that he was not ... handsome.’
‘They say he is one of the most ugly men in the world ... in fact so ugly as to be scarcely a man.’
‘I have told Papa that I would marry him if he were a baboon, so I am prepared for the worst.’
‘You will not be forced, you know.’
‘I know that well.’
‘And you can face marriage with a ... baboon?’
‘I have no intention of remaining unmarried, Amelia.’
Anne rose and, in spite of her rather dumpy figure which already showed signs that she had inherited their mother’s tendency to fat, she looked very regal.
‘It’s your choice,’ said Amelia, shrugging. ‘He will be coming here soon. Then we shall see if the rumours have lied.’
‘At least we are prepared for the worst,’ said Anne.
‘You will want to be alone I dare say to compose yourself.’
‘Nonsense. I have asked some of my friends from the Opera House to come here. We are going to sing together.’
Amelia stared in astonishment at her sister. It was really true that she was unperturbed.
* * *
‘My Lord Hervey,’ said the Queen, her eyes aglow, ‘come and tell me what you found at Somerset House.’
‘Your Majesty should not be too downhearted.’
‘But a little you mean?’
‘Well, your son-in-law is not beautiful.’
‘Pray, Lord Hervey, tell me the worst.’
‘He is hunchbacked.’
‘Slightly or …’
‘More than slightly, Your Majesty. He stoops so much that seen from behind he would appear to have no head.’
‘My God!’
‘But his manners are pleasing.’
‘And you are seeking to please me.’
As always, Madam.’
‘But I asked you for the truth and you do not please me by withholding it.’
‘Then I will say this. He is hideous, as hideous as he is rumoured to be, but he has princely manners and his con- duct is such that, knowing oneself to be in the presence of a Prince, one’s mind is taken off his appearance.’
‘My poor Anne! ‘
‘Your Majesty has been goodness itself and the Princess has freely chosen this marriage.’
‘It is true, but I suffer for her, my lord. You bring me very small comfort, but I’d rather that than lies.’
Hervey replied that beauty, ugliness, sorrow, all these were the greater or the smaller according to the manner in which they were observed. The Princess Anne wanted a husband and she was to have one. He was not beautiful, but he was at least a husband and the Princess had made it clear that she wanted any royal husband rather than none or one who could claim no royalty. In view of this the Queen should not grieve and she would see that the bridegroom was not half as black as he had been painted.
Such comfort, thought the Queen, talking to dear Lord Hervey.
But she was filled with apprehension even when passing to her drawing room she heard the sounds of singing coming from her daughter’s apartments.
* * *
When the Prince of Orange left Somerset House for St James’s the streets were crowded with people who had come out to cheer him.
Dressed in robes of state his deformity was partly concealed; and although he was extremely ill-favoured he showed his approval of the people who cheered him wildly. They were sorry for him. They knew that the King had treated him without respect. This was obvious, for the only equipage the King had sent for him was one coach with a pair of horses and two footmen—a very poor display for a royal bridegroom.
The King was irritable every time the marriage was mentioned because he hated the thought of his daughter marrying what he called a baboon. He had been hoping that. Anne would refuse the match; but since she had set her heart upon it and Walpole wished her to marry and so did the nation, what could he do but show his lack of liking for the bridegroom.
However, this neglect endeared the people to Orange.
Their King was a German without manners; they hated him; and they were going to make up with their cheers what the King had denied him.
All about the Palace people had thronged to get a sight of the bridegroom and having heard such rumours of his terrible appearance they were pleasantly surprised. ‘He is like a monkey,’ had been said. ‘He has a tail. An offensive odour comes from his person. He is an animal really ... a monster from birth. He stoops double. He crawls on all fours....’ Nothing had been too wild to say about the Prince of Orange. Now here he was, extremely deformed, with a face which could only be called ugly, but he walked on two legs; his stoop was not so obvious when he was seated; his robes of state concealed his hump.
And his manners were courteous and even modest. ‘Well,’ said the onlookers, ‘he is not a monkey. He is at least a man.’
Moreover, he was the Prince of Orange and a Protestant. And a royal marriage meant feasting and revelry and it was time they had a royal marriage in the family.
So: Hurrah for the Prince of Orange!
* * *
When the Queen saw him her heart san
k with dismay. Oh, my God, she thought, my daughter to marry this ... monster!
The King received him coldly, thinking it beneath his dignity to show cordiality to a minor Prince who should be extremely grateful to be allowed to marry the Princess Royal.
And he was thinking: If Anne takes one look at him and decides against him, back to Holland he shall go.
But Anne was smiling graciously, accepting him cheerfully—and of course regally.
One would have thought that he was the most handsome Prince on Earth.
* * *
Now there was no talk of anything but the royal marriage which was to take place immediately.
It was true that some of Orange’s supporters were disgruntled and expressed dismay at the lack of respect which was accorded their Prince, but Orange himself gave no sign that he noticed any lack of cordiality.
In fact his manners were the one thing about him which endeared him to the Queen.
‘At least,’ she said to Hervey, ‘he acts like a Prince if he doesn’t look like one.’
‘There have been ugly Princes, Madam, in the history of the world, and ill-mannered ones.’
She laughed at him. ‘You do well to remind me.’
He then began to divert her with the story of a Prince who was under a spell which made him appear as a gross monster and by the love of a good Princess cast off the spell and was turned into a beautiful Prince. This told in Hervey’s inimitable way, so malicious and yet so amusing, made the Queen laugh.
‘Who knows, Madam, the love of our Princess for a husband at all costs may turn our Dutch baboon into a Prince as charming as our own Prince of Wales, which might—or might not—bring delight to his bride! Perhaps in the circumstances it is better to leave him under the spell.’
‘You are very wicked, Lord Hervey, and I wonder I listen to you. But, my God, I suffer for my daughter.’
* * *
The wedding did not take place on the appointed day because the Prince of Orange was taken suddenly ill with pneumonia.
He was not expected to live; and it was almost as though a breath of relief went through St James’s.
‘This will make the decision which Anne was not able to make for herself,’ said the Queen.
‘It is an act of God,’ replied the King. ‘I did not want to see our daughter married to that man. Why, when I think of our marriage, my dear ... The excitement! The happiness! Do you remember?’
‘I remember well.’
The King’s eyes were glazed with sentiment. ‘And when I came to you as Monsieur de Busch, you remember that? And you were a little taken with Monsieur de Busch were you not?’
‘Greatly taken.’
‘And delighted when he turned out to be George Augustus in disguise?’
She laughed. ‘Yes, we were happy and ours was a good marriage. That is why we suffer so much to think of Anne’s.’
‘Oh, if only we could find a nice Protestant worthy Prince for our daughter! ‘
‘Alas, there was only Orange.’
‘And he will soon have the life squeezed out of him.’ The King laughed at his little joke and the Queen laughed with him.
‘But I am afraid,’ said the Queen, ‘that Anne will be very distressed to lose him, since we can find no one else to take his place.’
They were wrong. Anne showed no signs of distress. She continued to play the harpsichord and to sing with her friends from the opera as though nothing had happened.
The Prince of Orange was in a dangerous state for a week and then began to recover, although slowly; and it was still believed that he might not live.
The King shrugged his shoulders and said that he would not visit the Prince as if he did not recover he could not marry his daughter and therefore would be nothing to him. He didn’t like the man, anyway. He was scarcely a man, being so ugly and deformed. He must look after himself and think himself lucky that he was allowed to stay at Somerset House for his illness.
The Queen suggested that members of the family should perhaps visit the invalid to cheer him up in his convalescence.
‘No,’ thundered the King. ‘I forbid it.’
So through the long winter the Prince of Orange tried to throw off the effects of his illness, ignored by the royal family. His retinue of servants grumbled incessantly about this treatment and would have liked to have left for Holland, but the Prince was diplomatic. He knew that marriage with the daughter of the King of England was the best possible match he could make and for this he was ready to sink his dignity.
He grew better and went to Kensington and later to Bath to complete his recovery. He was determined that the marriage should take place and he knew that while he remained in England it had a good chance of doing so.
With the coming of March he returned to London and sent a messenger to the King with the news that he was now well enough to marry, and expressed his wish that the long delayed ceremony should now take place.
Anne, who when he had been ill had behaved as though he did not exist, now showed some interest in her marriage. Once more the King asked her if she was sure that she wanted to go on with it.
‘You cannot find me another husband,’ was her answer, ‘so I have no choice but to take this one.’
‘That or allow everything to remain as it was,’ the Queen reminded her.
‘I choose marriage,’ said Anne coldly.
* * *
The marriage was fixed for the 14th of March and was to be performed in the little French chapel adjoining St James’s. During the days preceding the 14th there was a great deal of activity not only in the Palace but throughout the Court. Velvets, gold and silver tissue was used in the chapel drapings. The lustres and sconces were gilded; and never had the chapel looked so gay. The procession would have to pass from the Palace to the chapel so a covered gallery was set up and covered with orange-coloured cloth.
The Queen, relying absolutely on the good taste of Lord Hervey, commanded him to be in charge of operations and he arranged the decorations not only for the chapel but for the gallery which he determined should look magnificent when it was illuminated; and which he calculated would hold four thousand people.
An air of excitement was everywhere. The only disgruntled comment was that of the old Duchess of Marlborough who could see the gallery from the windows of Marlborough House and grumbled incessantly about it.
‘I’m longing for the day when neighbour George takes his orange chest away,’ she cried. ‘It spoils my view.’
But nobody cared about the old Duchess’s complaints; and that was her greatest complaint of all: Nobody cared.
And all those who had tickets for a place in the gallery to see the procession pass laughed at her and said she was an old fool who didn’t know that her day was over.
But Sarah could laugh as she stood at the windows of Marlborough House and looked out at the gaping crowds. But for a stroke of ill luck she might have shown them that she was still to be reckoned with. What if she had succeeded in marrying Lady Di to the Prince of Wales!
They made a big mistake if they thought they could jeer at Sarah Churchill while there was breath in her body.
* * *
It was seven o’clock at night when the ceremony began. Orange, with his attendants, was waiting in the Great Council Chamber for the moment when he must sally forth. The Prince was magnificently attired in gold and silver brocade and his peruke had been very cleverly contrived so that the curls cascaded over his back and hid the worst of his deformity. His attendants glittered beside him and, apart from his low stature, for he appeared to be bent double, he looked less grotesque than on any other occasion.
In the great drawing room Anne with her ladies was also waiting for the signal. She looked almost beautiful; there was about her an air of rapt resignation; her gown was of silver tissue and her necklace was made up of twenty-two huge diamonds; she glittered splendidly; and so did the ten girls who were her bridesmaids and whose duty it was to carry the six-yard-long
train of silver tissue.
In the King’s lesser drawing room George and Caroline waited with their children.
George gave way to one or two mild displays of bad temper. He was thinking that he didn’t like the marriage; it was going to cost a great deal; and what had they got for it? Orange! A minor Prince who had nothing much to offer their daughter, and was there simply because he was the only Protestant Prince available.
‘Stand up straight!’ he shouted to the Duke of Cumberland. ‘And don’t look so sullen. I suppose you’re wishing it was your wedding!’
‘That would hardly be possible, Papa, at my age.’
‘You don’t like anyone to have anything but yourself. And you could look a little more pleasant, Emily.’ Emily was a name the family sometimes used for Amelia.
‘It is not really such a pleasant occasion, is it, Papa?’
Oh dear, thought the Queen, her family were becoming difficult. Very soon Frederick would not be the only one who was quarrelling with his father.
‘It was a wonderful necklace he gave her,’ said William. ‘Twenty-two diamonds. I should like to know the cost of them.’
‘One would not have thought a poor Prince could give his bride such a gift,’ put in Amelia.
‘This is not the time to be talking about diamonds,’ the King reproved them. ‘You ought to be thinking of your sister.’
‘I am so sorry for her,’ put in young Caroline.
‘Be silent,’ commanded the King, ‘or you’ll upset your mother.’
He smiled at his wife. This was one of the occasions when he felt sentimental towards her.
He took her hand gently, for it was time to leave for the chapel.
* * *
The watchers in the gallery said that it was more like a funeral than a wedding procession. The Queen was so obviously deeply affected and this was not the emotion of a mother seeing her daughter married; it was clear that the Queen was the most anxious because of the bridegroom.
In his gold and silver brocade he certainly looked like a performing animal dressed up to resemble a man; but his manners were good and he seemed affable; and he was a Prince. Only the bride seemed unaffected. She made her responses in a clear audible voice and she showed no sign of the repugnance she must have felt.
