by Jean Plaidy
There was no point in waiting for the wedding. Indeed in the King’s opinion, there was every need that the ceremony should take place without delay, for once it was over he would start making preparations to leave for Hanover and no one was going to stop him.
The Princess looked very attractive in her gown of crimson velvet with its rows of ermine, wearing a crown with one bar, set with diamonds. She was led in the procession to the chapel by her young brother-in-law-to-be, William, Duke of Cumberland, with the Duke of Grafton and Lord Hervey in attendance with the ladies of her household; and the Bishop of London performed the ceremony.
Afterwards at supper, the Prince of Wales sat on the King’s right hand with his brother William, and on the Queen’s left hand sat the Princess of Wales and her sisters-in-law, the four Princesses.
The Queen spoke very kindly to the bride and found her so modest that she could not help liking her, but, as she said afterwards to Lord Hervey, she feared she was a little stupid and that her mother was to be blamed for not giving her a better education. ‘Nevertheless,’ she added, ‘I daresay she will suit Fred the better for that.’
Then of course there followed that ceremony of undressing the bride which was done by the four Princesses, and she was put to bed to await the coming of the Prince who eventually appeared in a cloth of silver nightgown and nightcap of fine lace.
Ministers and courtiers walked through the bedchamber to see the young couple in bed; and in spite of her awkwardness and shyness in company, the Princess of Wales seemed not in the least disturbed, for already her husband seemed to have inspired her with confidence.
The King, in his wedding clothes of gold brocade, embroidered with large flowers in silver and pale colours, cut short the ceremony, and taking the Queen’s hand, gave the signal to retire and leave the young couple alone.
As they walked out the King commented on the costumes of Lord Hervey and the Duke of Grafton; he had noted the diamond buttons and was calculating that they must have cost somewhere in the region of three to five hundred pounds.
The Queen replied that it was fitting they should on such an occasion. ‘As long as,’ she added, ‘they do not outdo Your Majesty in their splendour, which it is clear they did not.’
In her own yellow silk trimmed with pearls and diamonds, with diamonds at her throat and on her hands, Caroline herself was a glittering figure and the King looked at her with approval. Her gown was low cut revealing that bosom which he had once called the most beautiful in the world.
But his satisfaction was short-lived.
‘No Englishman knows how to dress,’ he said. ‘I suppose it is because no English tailor knows how to make a suit.
‘You are comparing them with their Hanoverian counterparts,’ the Queen could not resist saying, and she added quickly to change the subject. ‘Perhaps now that he is married, Frederick will give us less trouble. She seems a pleasant creature, though dull, and I think she should suit him well.
‘They have dressed themselves up for this wedding as they never did for my birthday,’ grumbled the King.
But he was not seriously angry. He was thinking: The wedding is over. I shall be in Hanover for May as I promised.
* * *
The Duchess of Marlborough laughed at the marriage. ‘A Princess of where, pray? Saxe-Gotha? What is Saxe-Gotha? Young Fred will regret the day he didn’t get Lady Di.’
And she jeered at the preparations and said that she had heard the bride was a nice little thing but stupid.
‘He’ll have his regrets before long!’
But Frederick was not regretting. Nor was his bride. They were greeted by cheering crowds wherever they went. The people liked them. Just wait, thought Frederick, until we have a son. Then the people will be all for the Prince of Wales. They’re tired of bad-tempered George, anyway.
He would get his hundred thousand a year. He was going to ask for it as soon as it was possible to do so. He would get his privileges. When the King went off to his mistress he, the Prince of Wales, would be the Regent.
Everything was going to be different now. And it was all due to his dear little Augusta who adored him and wanted to do everything to please me.
When he said to her that he knew just the lady to fill the vacant post among her ladies in waiting, she listened eagerly.
‘It’s Lady Archibald Hamilton,’ he said. ‘I will present her to you.’
‘Please do,’ cried Augusta. ‘Is she young?’
‘You would not call her so.... She is twice your age.’
Augusta clapped her hands with pleasure. ‘I was afraid she might be young and beautiful,’ she said.
There were some things she had learned evidently, thought Frederick.
And when Lady Archibald Hamilton was presented to her, Augusta thought her, although a little stern, a very gracious lady.
‘Lady Archibald Hamilton hopes for a post in your household,’ said Frederick. ‘I hope you will agree with me that no one could be more suitable.’
And of course Augusta agreed with her husband.
The King’s Absence
IN the middle of May the King left England for Hanover. The Prince was sulking because once more he had been passed over and the Queen was made Regent.
In his own apartments he raged against his parents and the Princess Augusta listened, nodding her head, looking angry when he did, smiling when he did, agreeing with every word.
The King had not seen his son before his departure, but had sent a messenger to him with a letter which told him that wherever the Queen resided during his absence there would be apartments for the Prince and Princess of Wales.
‘Well,’ retorted the Prince, ‘the apartments may be there but we shan’t be in them.’
‘No, we shan’t,’ agreed the Princess.
‘I hate them ... both of them,’ declared the Prince.
And the Princess nodded as though he had said something even more clever than his usual utterances.
‘And I’ll show them.’
She nodded eagerly.
‘They’re going to be sorry for the way they’ve treated me.’
‘Very sorry.’
‘They can’t imagine I shall endure these humiliations for ever, or if they do they’re bigger fools than I take them for. We are not going to live under the same roof as the Queen Regent ... and we are going to do everything to annoy her. Do you know, Augusta, I think I hate my mother more than my father. He after all is just a fool. She’s the one who has made him what he is. She left me when I was only seven ... left me all alone in Hanover and it wasn’t till I was in my twenties that I saw her again. There’s a mother for you!’
It did not occur to Augusta to wonder in what circumstances the Queen had behaved as she had. Frederick said she had been cruelly neglectful, so in Augusta’s opinion she had.
‘But I’ll be revenged on them. You wait! I’ll ask for my hundred thousand. After all it’s my due. And when I’ve got that it will be only a beginning. You’ll see, Augusta, the sort of man you’ve married.’
Augusta laughed gleefully. She was sure she had married the most handsome, the bravest, and best man in the world.
It was no wonder that the Prince of Wales was pleased with his marriage.
* * *
Augusta was amused and impressed by the way in which her clever husband outwitted his mother.
She, the wicked Queen, had sent to them from Richmond saying that she intended staying there a while and, in accordance with the King’s order, she thought that the Prince and Princess should join her there.
Augusta listened wide-eyed to what her husband had to say.
‘We’re not going,’ he said. ‘We’ll write and tell her that you’re indisposed.’
Augusta thought this a clever idea; but the Queen it seemed was clever too for she wrote to her son and said that since his wife was indisposed she would call and visit her on her sick bed.
This threw Augusta into a panic, but her husband assur
ed her that he had a plan. She would keep to her bed and the room would be so darkened that the Queen would not see her properly so it would not be difficult to feign illness. All she had to do was lie back and look wan.
When the Queen arrived and the Prince came with the Queen to her bedroom, the Princess of Wales was lying in her bed, her eyes closed.
The Queen took a seat beside the bed and asked how she felt.
‘Very weak, Your Majesty,’ said Augusta, but even to herself her voice sounded high pitched and false. She was not, she feared, a very good actress.
The Queen enquired about her symptoms in such detail that the Princess became very muddled, but the Queen was kind and said that she would not stay long as she could see that her presence was a little exhausting to one in the Princess’s state. On the other hand she had every confidence that very soon her daughter-in-law would be completely recovered.
With that she took her leave telling herself that one could not blame the Princess whatsoever; she would be a pleasant creature without that odious husband of hers.
She implied to her son as she took her leave that he had not deceived her one bit, and asked him why he had not attended the Council which had assembled to see her break the seals of the King’s commission which made her Regent.
‘My apologies, Madam,’ retorted the Prince insolently. But I mistook the hour.’
She curtly left him, thinking: We shall have trouble with him. His marriage has not helped us at all.
But at Richmond she summoned her family because she needed the comfort they always gave her—William, her particular favourite, and Caroline, her more constant companion. Caroline she took just a little for granted perhaps, but on William she doted.
Even the King liked his son. William was bright, quick-witted, which was a pleasure to his mother; and his preoccupation with military affairs gave him something in common with his father.
It was a pity, thought Caroline, that Frederick had ever been born.
The less rigorous routine immediately had its effect on the Queen’s health. Lady Sundon was pleased that there were no more of those cold foot-baths which she was sure were the worst possible thing for the Queen’s health. If Caroline’s legs and feet were too swollen for walking then she merely pleaded a pressure of business and rested in her bedchamber.
It was a great relief to escape from the King’s temper.
He was writing to her every day, long letters describing every detail of his days, and these were largely taken up with Madame de Walmoden.
It had been a wonderful reunion. She was an enchanting creature. He described her body in detail so that Caroline would be delighted to know how happy he was. They had a fine boy now—a very pretty fellow. He wished Caroline could see him.
She showed the letters to Walpole who nodded gravely but did stress the one good point that the King was still as frank as ever and it was an asset to know the exact state of his enslavement.
Then came the letter which set the Queen laughing and yet at the same time made her sad, for it was rather melancholy to have the follies of one’s husband so blatantly brought home to one.
The King was in a quandary and he wanted his dear wife’s opinion on this matter.
She knew of course that he had given his dear Madame de Walmoden apartments in the Leine Schloss and she would remember the gardens which ran down to the river. Well, one night a gardener had seen a ladder propped against the wall of the Schloss and this was immediately under Madame de Walmoden’s window. The gardener was a zealous man who was certain that a thief was trying to steal Madame de Walmoden’s jewels; so cautiously leaving the ladder where it was, he called together some of his fellow gardeners and posting one at the foot of the ladder he and the others made a search of the gardens and sure enough they found a man hiding in the bushes. Thinking they had discovered a low fellow bent on robbery, they called the guard and in spite of his protestations the man was arrested. Now comes the awkward part of the story because the man was no low fellow after all, but a diplomat who had come to Hanover on the Emperor’s business and was a very high official. His name was Schulemburg and he was of course a connection of the Duchess of Kendal. He was, on showing his credentials, immediately released, but not before the story was being talked of all over the Court.
His dear Madame de Walmoden was most distressed. As Caroline could imagine one so beautiful and enchanting and honoured, of course, through her liaison with the King, was bound to have enemies. She had assured him that the whole thing was a plot contrived by her great enemy, Madame d’Elitz. Caroline would remember Madame d’Elitz, as one of the ladies with whom he had had a little affair of gallantry before he had the great good fortune to discover his peerless Madame de Walmoden. Poor Madame d’Elitz could have been jealous. He would understand that. But there was a great deal of gossip and he could see that so many people did not really believe Madame de Walmoden’s story.
Now he trusted his dear wife’s judgment, as she knew well, and he would like to have her opinion of this little affair.
‘Show this letter to le gros homme,’ he finished, ‘for my dear Caroline, he is more experienced in these affairs than you are, and less prejudiced than I myself am in this one.’
Caroline summoned Walpole and showed him this letter. He laughed over it.
‘I think, Madam,’ he said, ‘that this is a step in the right direction. This could well be the beginning of the end.’
But although the King continued to write pages about the affair it soon became clear that his infatuation had not diminished in one small degree; and the fact that he was eager to believe in the innocence of Madame de Walmoden over the ladder affair showed how deeply he was involved with her.
* * *
Trouble was in the air. Caroline knew that the Prince was fermenting this. The story of the ladder had leaked out and was seized joyfully by the lampoon writers. The King had never been so unpopular, and this reflected on the government. All over the country there was unrest. In the West of England there were riots among farmers over the importation of corn; and the Spitalfields weavers declared they would no longer tolerate the Irish workers in their midst who were ready to work for a lower wage than they were. There was fighting among the English and Irish and the Queen ordered that soldiers be called out to quell this. The act enraged the Spitalfields workers who declared that more consideration was given to foreigners than the English since they had foreigners on the throne. They even forgot their own grievances to ask what the Germans were doing here and demanding that they be sent back to Hanover.
‘Long live James III, the true King of England!’ was a cry which was heard frequently in the streets that summer.
But it was the Prince of Wales who caused the Queen the most anxiety. Trouble was brewing there. His hatred of her had increased since his marriage and she knew it was due to the fact that she had been Regent while he had been passed over. It was alarming to contemplate that he hated her even more fiercely that he hated his father.
She found that she was wishing he was dead. How much less trouble there would be if he were! William would make such a fine Prince of Wales and in time King—and how happily they could dispense with Frederick!
He was teaching his wife to cause trouble, too, although one could not blame her. Poor little thing, she hadn’t a mind of her own.
She was obviously instructed to do the things she did, such as arriving late at church and as the only way she could reach her seat when she entered by the main door was by passing along the pew in which the Queen sat, this was very uncomfortable for the Queen, in view of her portly figure—uncomfortable and undignified; yet on every occasion the Princess did this.
She had given orders that no one must enter by the main door if they arrived late which was a direct command to the Princess of Wales.
Frederick had retorted that his wife could not possibly enter by any door but the main one, so he ordered the poor child not to go to church at all if she could not be ther
e before the Queen.
So distressing, so unnecessary; but a sad indication of the deterioration of the relationship between them.
What struck at the heart of the people more than anything else was the government’s attempt to stop the terrible effect gin drinking was having on the population. Gin was so cheap that it was available to the very poorest and it had become a habit to drink away miseries in the gin palaces which had sprung up all over the country.
One tavern in Southwark had attached a cynical but inviting notice on its door which was taken up by others and was a reminder to the public how cheap gin had become.
‘Drunk for a penny,
Dead drunk for twopence.
Clean straw for nothing.’
The prospect of being deprived of this ‘solace’ so enraged the people that they determined they would rebel against it; and the ballad-makers were busy turning out laments to the demise of Madam Gin while the taverns put out mourning signs. There was even a mock procession when the Gin Act was passed which paraded with torches through the streets of London and of course became very intoxicated ... on gin, rioted and caused a great deal of damage.
It soon became clear that nothing could stop the sale of gin and that the result of the Act was merely to set in motion a number of illegal methods of passing it to the consumer. It was sold over many a counter with a wink in bottles labelled ‘Ladies Delight’, ‘Take 2 or 3 spoonfuls 4 to 5 times a day as the fit takes you’, ‘Make Shift’, ‘Cuckold’s Comfort’—for whatever happened the English must have their jokes.
At the same time they were enraged at this attempt to stop what they called ‘the pleasures of the poor’ and they would talk about it in the taverns over their gin sold by another name and ask themselves why German George should be having his pleasure in Hanover while they were deprived of theirs in London.
The Spitalfields controversy was nothing compared with the anger of an enraged population deprived of its gin, and the government realized that action would have to be taken to modify the Act during the next session of Parliament.
