by Jean Plaidy
‘What is this?’ she demanded.
Her daughter told her version of what had happened, and the Princess Dowager decided that something should be done. She went to the Queen’s apartment just as Charlotte, simply clad without her jewels, was about to leave for Communion.
‘But you are not going to Communion like that!’ cried the outraged Princess Dowager.
‘I am,’ answered Charlotte. Oh, yes, thought her mother-in-law, she is arrogant.
‘No, my dear. We would consider that a direct insult to God.’
‘I am sure He would not.’
So she was flippant, blasphemous. A very firm hand was needed.
‘My dear daughter, now you are here you will want to learn our customs. You will not want to offend people by behaving as you do in your brother’s little dukedom.’
Charlotte flushed. ‘I cannot see what difference …’
‘You will learn, my dear.’
The Queen replied: ‘I shall first of all learn the language.’
The Princess Dowager stood like a redoubtable old general blocking her way. The Queen was not going to pass.
She saw Elizabeth Chudleigh and told her rapidly in English to bring Lord Bute to her without delay.
Elizabeth, smiling secretly, hurried off. Meanwhile Charlotte, flustered, uncertain, never having considered that she would have to face such a situation, was undecided how to act.
‘Let us sit down,’ said the Princess. ‘Where is your tiara? Pray fetch it,’ she said to one of the maids. It was brought and she put it gently on Charlotte’s head. ‘How becoming! Why it makes you pretty.’ The eyes which regarded Charlotte were as cold as a snake’s. ‘I cannot think why you do not wish to wear the King’s gift on every occasion.’
‘It is charming,’ said Charlotte. ‘I have never possessed such jewels; but I do not consider them suitable to be worn at Communion.’
Lord Bute had arrived. He looked deeply concerned; he kissed the Queen’s hand and that of the Princess Dowager. The latter’s eyes softened at the sight of him; hard as she was where everyone else was concerned, she was soft for this man. Even now that they had been lovers for years her affection was apparent whenever she looked at him; it was in the inflection of her voice when she spoke to him.
‘Lord Bute, the Queen wishes you to set her right on this little matter of custom. Lord Bute, my dear, thinks as the King thinks. They have never had a disagreement. He will tell you what should be done and you may believe him. Her Majesty wishes to go to Communion without her jewels. I have told her that she should wear them … that it would be considered most unseemly if she did not. She would offend people here if they thought she was not paying due respect to God and religion. That is so, my lord, is it not?’
‘It is assuredly so,’ said Lord Bute.
‘I do not find it so,’ persisted Charlotte stubbornly. She was almost in tears, and angry with herself that she should be so over such a silly matter.
‘I have told Her Majesty that she will learn our ways,’ said the Princess. ‘She must not be despondent if she does not grasp them all at once.’
‘I am sure Her Majesty will know our customs as well as we do ourselves … in a very short time.’
‘In the meantime …’
‘In the meantime,’ interrupted the Princess Dowager, ‘you wish us to advise you. Rest assured, my dear daughter, that we shall be most happy to do so and save you from the embarrassment which would otherwise result.’
Charlotte continued to look stubborn. It did not improve her looks.
What a plain creature she is! thought Bute. I wonder George doesn’t rebel. Serve her right if he makes Sarah Lennox his mistress. Not that that sly old Fox will allow that. A pox on these silly squabbles, but Augusta was right of course to take this stand. The girl must not have her head turned by hearing herself referred to constantly as the Queen of England.
‘I will have a word with His Majesty,’ he told her benignly. ‘I am sure when you hear his ruling you will be convinced.’
There was one thing Charlotte had been taught in her home and that was that she must obey her husband, and if the King said she must wear her jewels to Communion, then she must.
She was distressed – more because of the folly of the situation than anything else, and perhaps because in her heart she guessed that this was an indication. Her powerful mother-in-law and Lord Bute expected her to do as she was told. She looked at them defiantly. She would not go to Communion – bejewelled or otherwise – until she had heard what the King had to say.
*
Lord Bute found the King in his apartments. He went in unceremoniously. He wanted the King and everyone to realize the intimacy between them.
‘A little difficulty between the Queen and your mother,’ he whispered. ‘I am certain that between us we shall quickly put it to rights.’
‘A difficulty!’ echoed the King.
‘Yes, my dear Majesty … a matter of jewels. The Queen feels she should not wear them and your mother feels she should.’
‘Should it not be a matter for the Queen to decide?’
‘This is for Communion. Perhaps an occasion for ceremony.’
‘I … I should not have thought so.’
Bute was cautious. Here was a situation which he and the Princess Dowager had feared. If the Queen was allowed to have her own way she would quickly be advising the King and one of the first results of this would be to turn him from his mother. A matter of wearing or not wearing jewels was immaterial to Bute; but what was of the utmost importance was that the little Queen should not give herself airs, and that she must be made to understand that the Princess Dowager – and her dear friend Lord Bute – were the two who had guided His Majesty before his marriage and they intended to go on doing so.
‘Your mother is of the opinion that it shows disrespect to religion not to wear the jewels and I agree with her.’
The King looked startled.
‘And I have assured her that on consideration Your Majesty will share our view.’
‘But …’
‘Oh, these ladies! The Queen is charming. Perhaps she is no beauty but she is charming … charming … and I am sure she has already fallen in love with Your Majesty. That I can well understand and should indeed be surprised if it were not so. But being in love she feels she can lead you. Oh, it is the way with women.’
‘I have no intention of being led.’
‘So I thought. Your Majesty has often remarked on the trouble which has come through kings being led by women and I can remember your saying on more than one occasion that you had no intention of allowing this to happen to you.’
‘That’s so. I should never allow any woman to persuade me from what I thought was right.’
‘How fortunate this country is to have such a king. When I consider the last reigns … No matter. We have come safely through and I know you are going to command me to explain to her dear little Majesty that it is your wish that she wears the jewels. Not that … between ourselves … we see anything of great importance in this. But I know Your Majesty will agree with me that we must make it clear to the Queen that you are determined not to be ruled by her and that it is her duty to obey her husband.’ Before George could speak, Bute hurried on. ‘This is a blessing, because in this very small matter we can set Her Majesty’s feet on the right path. We can make known to her – so discreetly – Your Majesty’s policy, for which – knowing women – I am sure she will respect you … far more than if you were to give way and allow her to rule you.’
It all seemed a great pother about a small matter, George thought; but it was true that he was determined not to be governed by women; and Lord Bute was right – as usual – when he pointed out that Charlotte should be made aware of this in the beginning.
Shortly afterwards the Princess Dowager had the satisfaction of seeing the Queen go to Communion in her diamonds.
*
It was some three weeks after the wedding – a glori
ous day and 22 September, the day fixed for the coronation. All along the route from the Palace to the Abbey scaffolding had been set up in the streets and high prices were demanded for seats in windows. London was eager to see the new King crowned; he was popular because he was young, had been born in England, looked and spoke like an Englishman and was the first English king they had had since James II; and because they had never cared for him and had sent him packing, they preferred to recall Good Charles’s days when that romantic monarch had come back to England on his Restoration and made England merry. That was a hundred years ago – and here was another, George, their king, newly ascended the throne and newly married. Of course they must come out on a glorious September day to shout their loyalty.
And there was the Queen, too, – a German, not speaking English, which made them grimace. They were tired of Germans who couldn’t – or wouldn’t – speak English. But she was young and if she behaved herself they would accept her, for the King had chosen her in spite of the fact that he had had his eyes on Lady Sarah Lennox whom they would have far preferred. A lovely English girl was better than an ugly German one any day. Still, it was a coronation and a reign always meant new hopes of better times.
Charlotte awoke with a raging toothache and neuralgia. She decided not to mention this to Mademoiselle von Schwellenburg who was, she had to admit, becoming quite intolerable, setting herself up as the head of the women, making her own rule that no one should approach the Queen except through her. Charlotte would have to warn Schwellenburg that the English ladies would not like this at all. She had heard Miss Chudleigh make some retort to Schwellenburg which the latter did not understand – nor did Charlotte – but she guessed it was a witty quip by the manner in which the others laughed.
Miss Chudleigh and the Marchioness of Lorne were outwardly very friendly, but Charlotte believed there was a certain animosity between them because the Duke of Hamilton, first husband of the Marchioness, had at one time been betrothed to Elizabeth Chudleigh. These two women were, Charlotte feared, somewhat light-minded.
But Charlotte was in too much pain to think of them now. She lay in her bed dreading the moment when she would have to rise and prepare for the ceremony.
It came all too soon. Schwellenburg was bustling about her, talking in rapid German; this was an important occasion; only she should be in close contact with the Queen.
Charlotte felt too weary to reprove her, but she guessed that before long she would have to do something about Schwellenburg. She stood quietly while she was dressed in the splendour of purple velvet and ermine; she hoped the coronet she would have to wear would not be too heavy; her poor head would not be able to support it, she was sure.
Her spirits rose a little as she drove through the streets to the Abbey with George beside her. Each day she felt more affection for him; she wanted to write and tell her family how content she was with her husband. He was so kind and had never hinted in any way that he was in love with another woman – or had been before her arrival. She would like to tell them of her contentment. Her brother would not care; and how could she tell Christina when it would only make her regret her ill fortune the more bitterly; and if she told Ida von Bülow it would be gossiped all over the Court in no time and come to Christina’s ears that way. No, she must keep her contentment to herself.
George looked magnificent in his coronation robes; his face was flushed and his eyes seemed more blue than usual; he radiated purpose and that was what the people sensed; it was one of the reasons why they cheered him so loudly. ‘God Save the King,’ they cried; and Charlotte had learned enough to know what that meant. And some said: ‘God save the Queen.’ She bowed and smiled at them and trusted the splendour of her garments made up for the plainness of her face.
The solemn ceremony proceeded in the beginning without a hitch. There was Dr Secker, the Archbishop of Canterbury, in his cope of white and gold, informing all those who had gathered to witness the ceremony that he presented to them ‘George, the undoubted King of the realm’.
With him Charlotte walked to the altar where the large Bible lay open.
Charlotte had rehearsed this part of the ceremony and had learned off by heart the words she would have to say.
‘Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the people of this Kingdom and the Dominions thereto belonging according to the statutes in Parliament agreed on and the laws and customs of the same?’
The King replied, laying his hand on the Bible: ‘I solemnly promise so to do.’
Then it was Charlotte’s turn. She was relieved that she managed to speak the words required of her.
More questions followed and finally: ‘Will you, to the utmost of your power, maintain the laws of God, the true profession of the gospel and the Protestant Reformed Religion established by the law?’
Again Charlotte made her reply faultlessly; and retiring from the altar she seated herself while the King went to St Edward’s Chair for the anointing.
The coronet was heavy and her head ached uncomfortably; and she was glad when they went once more to the altar to take Communion. George said to Dr Secker: ‘Should I not take off my crown when offering homage to the King of all Kings?’
Dr Secker replied that he was unaware of the correct mode of procedure, and turned to one of the Bishops to ask his opinion.
As the Bishop did not know either, the King said that he was sure it would be more becoming in him to remove his crown and he believed the Queen should take her coronet off.
This, whispered the Archbishop, would disarrange the Queen’s hair and he was sure that it was not expected.
‘Well,’ said George, ‘for this time we will regard Her Majesty’s coronet as part of her costume and not as her crown.’
He then took off his crown and explained in German to the Queen what had taken place. Charlotte was astonished, because it was only a short while before that she had been commanded to wear her jewels when taking Communion. She wondered whether the King remembered this; and if so why she had been forced to wear her jewels on that occasion and he dispense with his on this.
Communion over, the King and Queen prepared to leave the Abbey and as they did so one of the biggest jewels fell from the King’s crown. There was a shocked silence. A bad omen, it was whispered, if ever there was one!
After an undignified scrambling to recover the jewel it was soon found; but all eyes seemed to be on the gap where it should have been and this incident cast a certain gloom over the proceedings.
This was the first of a series of mishaps. When the company led by the King and Queen arrived at Westminster Hall where the banquet was to be held, they found it in darkness. Lord Talbot, who was Lord Steward and, with the Earl Marshal, was in charge of the coronation, had thought it would be an excellent idea to have all the candles lighted simultaneously as soon as the King and Queen were at the threshold, and had arranged it should take place by means of flax fuses.
There was a gasp of astonishment as the royal couple stumbled into the darkness; and then it seemed to Charlotte that the hall was on fire. The jabbing of her tooth was so painful that she had to smother an exclamation. The candles were suddenly alight but pieces of burning flax hung in the air for a few seconds before they floated down on the guests. So the desired admiration was replaced first by startled fear and then relief when it was discovered that no one was injured.
The candles made a brilliant show and the smell of spiced meats and delicacies filled the hall. No one could eat of course until the King and Queen were served, and Charlotte saw that on the dais on which their table had been set, although it was glittering with glass and cutlery, chairs were lacking.
Lord Talbot and Lord Effingham, who was acting as Deputy Earl Marshall, were rushing round in a panic demanding chairs for their Majesties; but in spite of all the great efforts to provide a banquet such as those present would never forget, it was difficult to find two chairs suitable for the King and the Queen.
Lord Effingham, wig awry
, eventually hurried on to the dais, a chair in his arms, followed by Lord Talbot with another. These were set at the table and a sigh of relief went up throughout the hall for everyone was very hungry and the ceremonious serving of the King and Queen had to take place before they could eat.
‘It would seem, my lord,’ said George mildly, ‘that the arrangements for our coronation can scarcely be called efficiently made.’
Effingham muttered: ‘It is so I fear, Sire. It seems some matters have been neglected.’ He added more brightly: ‘But I have taken care that the next coronation will be regulated in the exactest manner possible.’
George burst out laughing, and told Charlotte what the Earl had said. Effingham was overcome with confusion – and far more embarrassed than he had been over the lack of chairs. But the more George considered his remark the more it amused him. He called Lord Bute and insisted that Effingham repeat what he had said. This Effingham did, mumbling and growing more and more scarlet.
Meanwhile the Lord Mayor of London and the Aldermen of the City had discovered that no places had been laid for them, and the Mayor was declaring in a loud voice that he considered this a disgrace. He was the Lord Mayor of London and did my Lord Effingham and my Lord Talbot know that London was the capital city and bowed to no one … not even kings. The biggest omission that could have been made was to fail to proyide places for the Mayor and Aldermen.
Lord Effingham, escaping from the amused King, was obliged to face the furious Lord Mayor.
‘My Lord Mayor,’ whispered Effingham, ‘I pray you leave quietly with your Aldermen. Some recompense shall be made …’
‘There’s only one recompense,’ retorted the Mayor. ‘And that is table places.’
‘My Lord Mayor …’
‘The City of London is giving a banquet to the King which is costing £10,000. Have you the effrontery, my lord, to tell me then that there is no place for the Mayor and Aldermen at the King’s coronation banquet? The city will not have it, sir.’
Talbot came to the aid of the harassed Effingham and whispered that the Lord Mayor and Aldermen should have the table which had been reserved for the Knights of the Bath.
