King's Mistress, Queen's Servant: The Life and Times of Henrietta Howard

by Tracy Borman

When she comes in my way – the motion, the pain,

  The leapings, the achings, return all again . . .

  O wonderful creature! A woman of reason!

  Never grave out of pride, never gay out of season;

  When so easy to guess who this angel should be,

  Would one think Mrs Howard ne’er dreamt it was she?

  The ‘cruell mistresse’ of Peterborough’s heart countered his protestations with good-humoured scorn. His ‘Song’ she dismissed as ‘the ridiculous cant of love’, and the insincerity of his apparent devotion was exposed by her frank good sense. ‘That you might mistake love in others I grant you, but I wonder how you could mistake it in yourself,’ she chided. ‘Consider, my lord, you have but one heart, and then consider whether you have a right to dispose of it, is there not a lady at Paris who is convinced that nobody has it but herself? Did you not bequeath it to another lady at Turin? At Venice you disposed of it to six or seven, and you again parted with it at Naples and in Sicily. I believe, my Lord,’ she concluded, ‘that one who disposes of his heart in so profuse a manner is like a juggler, who seems to fling away a piece of money but still has it in his own keeping.’16

  Despite Mrs Howard’s firm dismissal of Peterborough’s romantic declarations, there was inevitable speculation at court that their acquaintance had deepened into intimacy. There is very little evidence to support this, however. Indeed, if there was ever so much as a suggestion of indecency in the Earl’s intentions, he was met with a severe reprimand from Henrietta, and she lost all of the good humour with which she countered his more harmless flirtations. ‘Can so much goodnesse be angry to such a degree as not to forgive a fault [that] can never be repeated?’ pleaded Peterborough on one such occasion. ‘Should the person who has robb’d me of my sences, be mercilessly severe to a mistaken expression?’17

  In fact, for all his apparent devotion to Mrs Howard, Peterborough’s real affection lay in an entirely different quarter. Around the time that he had first started to frequent Leicester House, he had met and fallen in love with Anastasia Robinson, a singer at the King’s Theatre. His love for her was genuine and enduring, and he married her some years later. It was therefore fortunate that Henrietta never took his romantic declarations seriously.

  The poet John Gay was another rival for Mrs Howard’s attentions at court. A sociable and convivial man, he had an insatiable curiosity and lust for life, and was adored by his many friends. Gay’s ballads and verse may have been of a more playful nature than Pope’s, but he still enjoyed some notable successes, including The Shepherd’s Week, The Wife of Bath, and his most famous work, The Beggar’s Opera. The Fables that he had written for the royal children made him a welcome guest at court. Ever since his first encounter with the Hanoverians during his visit to Herrenhausen in 1714, he had been angling for an official post in the royal household. This was probably one of his motivations in cultivating Henrietta’s acquaintance, as she was now rising to prominence at court, but he soon came to like her for herself, and their friendship was to continue long after it became obvious that she would be unable to help him.

  Like Pope and Peterborough, Gay became a frequent visitor to Leicester House and Richmond Lodge, and when his travels took him away from court, he and Mrs Howard maintained a humorous and affectionate correspondence. In September 1719, he went to the Continent for a few weeks, and wrote to her from there: ‘I have been looking every where since I came into France to find out some object that might take you from my thoughts, that my journey might seem less tedious, but since nothing could do it in England, I can much less expect it [in] France.’18

  The poet and the courtier sharpened their wits on each other, and each helped to develop the other’s literary talents. As a friend to some of the greatest writers of the age, Henrietta amassed a correspondence that reads like a who’s who of Georgian England. Five large volumes of the letters that she received from the likes of Pope, Swift and Gay are among the manuscripts preserved within the British Library. These also contain the many drafts of letters that Henrietta sent in reply. They are scattered with crossings-out and half-finished sentences as she strove continually to improve her already engaging prose, and behind the hurried scrawl that races across the page, one can almost sense her frustration as she tried to attain the perfect phrase or retort. ‘You will find that a woman’s pen is not so ready as her tongue,’ she once told Peterborough, ‘for most women speak before they think, and I find it necessary to think before I write.’

  The Earl was in fact one of her most challenging correspondents, for she was keen to dampen his elaborate professions of love with suitably acerbic replies. For this, she called upon her friend John Gay for assistance, and in return provided him with inspiration for his plays. ‘I have some thoughts of giving you a few loose Hints for a satyr,’ she wrote to him one summer at Richmond, ‘and if you manage it right (and not indulge that foolish good nature of yours) I dont question but I shall see you in good employment before Christmas.’19

  Although Gay was four years older than Henrietta, he had a helpless, almost childlike quality that appealed to her maternal instincts, and he came to rely on her sensible advice and patient affection. In contrast to many of his rather more feckless friends, who indulged and even encouraged his waywardness, Henrietta was a steadying influence on him. When he professed to be in love with an unsuitable young woman, she told him: ‘I can no more aprove of your having a passion for that, then I did of your turning Parson.’ She was constantly urging temperance and moderation when Gay’s appetite for fine food and strong wine got the better of him. She even concerned herself with the suitability of his clothes, chiding him for going about ‘so thinly Clad’ in the middle of November.20

  For all Gay’s waywardness, he did occasionally offer Henrietta some sound advice of his own. He had been a frequenter of courts long enough to know how fickle, unstable and even dangerous they could be, and he counselled his friend on the qualities that were required to survive in such an arena. ‘I have long wish’d to be able to put in practice that valuable worldly qualification of being insincere,’ he wrote. ‘Another observation I have made upon Courtiers, is, that if you have any friendship with any particular one you must be entirely govern’d by his friendships and resentments not your own . . . as men of Dignity believe one thing one day, and another the next, so you must daily change your faith and opinion. Therefore the method to please these wonderfull and mighty men, is never to declare in the morning what you believe ’till your friend has declar’d what he believes, for one mistake this way is utter destruction.’ Gay made use of the word ‘friendship’ several times in this letter, but qualified it by saying: ‘I know that I speak improperly for it has never been allow’d a court term.’21 He would have done well to follow his own advice, but he was too bent on the pursuit of pleasure to give sufficient attention to his advancement at court. As a consequence, he was never to gain the privileged position there that he had hankered after for so long.

  Mrs Howard’s literary set at court was completed by Lord Chesterfield. Their friendship had flourished since the first summer at Hampton Court, and the fact that they both served in the royal household gave them a common bond, as well as ample opportunity to see each other. Their lively conversations were supplemented by a host of witty letters. Like Pope, Chesterfield lavished attention on Henrietta’s dogs (even though he was wary of them), as well as on the lady herself. He wrote to her newborn puppy Marquise, expressing his pleasure on its ‘happy delivery’, and adding mischievously: ‘I begg of you not to be at all concerned at any insinuations that may be thrown out, that your issue does not bear that resemblance to the Father, which it ought.’ He also accused Henrietta of treating her dogs like children, which was probably only half in jest, for he knew well that she missed her son desperately.22

  In between entertaining her friends and undertaking the many duties to which she was bound by the Princess, Henrietta had barely a moment to herself during the years at L
eicester House and Richmond Lodge. ‘I was and am in such a continual hurry,’ she told Gay, ‘that I don’t know what I writ to Mr Pope yesterday, or what I write to you now.’23 Pope himself was astonished by the frantic pace at which she and her fellow ladies at court were obliged to live. His description of their bewildering schedule provides an amusing insight into life in the Georgian court. ‘Mrs Bellenden & Mrs Lepell took me into protection . . . & gave me a Dinner, with something I liked better, an opportunity of Conversation with Mrs Howard. We all agreed that the life of a Maid of Honour was of all things the most miserable; & wished that every Woman who envyd it had a Specimen of it. To eat Westphalia Ham in a morning, ride over Hedges & ditches on borrowed Hacks, come home in the heat of the day with a Feavor, & what is worse a 100 times, a red Mark in the forehead with a Beaver hatt; all this may qualify them to make excellent Wives for Fox-hunters, & bear abundance of ruddy-complexion’d Children. As soon as they can wipe off the Sweat of the day, they must simper an hour, & catch cold, in the Princess’s apartments; from thence To Dinner, with what appetite they may – And after that, til midnight, walk, work, or think, which they please?’24

  The frenetic pace of court life, with all its attendant pleasures and entertainments, was a world away from Henrietta’s former life with Charles Howard. But she seemed to adapt to it admirably, and less than a year after the Prince and Princess had moved to Leicester House, she had become one of its brightest stars. That she had done so in a court renowned for its fickleness and volatility makes her achievement all the more impressive. ‘Persons who have been us’d to Courts cannot be greatly surpris’d at any sudden change of favor, or at seeing those who lean’d against the Throne yesterday, beneath the Footstool to day,’ remarked one contemporary. ‘Every thing rolls on here in the usual manner, the same contriving, undermining and caballing at the back-stairs, the great ones hurrying back and forward, and the little ones crynging after,’ observed another.

  Those who ran the gauntlet of its intrigues, plots, backbiting and factions had to be prepared to live their lives in the open, for there were very few secrets at court. ‘Whatever you say or do at court, you may depend upon it, will be known,’ Chesterfield counselled his son, ‘the business of most of those who crowd levees and antechambers being to repeat all that they see or hear, according as they are inclined to the persons concerned, or according to the wishes of those to whom they hope to make their court. Great caution is therefore necessary.’25

  Principal among the qualities required to survive at court was the art of dissimulation. ‘Nothing in courts is exactly as it appears to be,’ Lord Chesterfield warned his son. ‘Those who now smile upon and embrace, would affront and stab each other if manners did not interpose.’ Henrietta had quickly come to terms with this and had tempered her behaviour accordingly. In private, however, she confessed that she found such insincerity profoundly distasteful. ‘We seldome see a man the more favour’d or esteemed for his plain-dealing,’ she lamented. ‘The long disuse of it in courts has put it on the same footing with ill manners and ill breeding.’ To her credit, rather than openly expressing opinions that she did not believe, for the most part she simply maintained a neutral silence. With her natural reserve and discretion, this was perhaps easier for her than it would have been for many others.26

  It was by thus distancing herself from the intrigues of court that Henrietta achieved success. The modesty and discretion that she had displayed in her early days at court increasingly set her apart from the scores of giddy, gossiping, fickle ladies and gentlemen who frequented Leicester House. Some courtiers resented her for it, but most were full of respect. The commendations of her good character are numerous. Her cousin, Margaret Bradshaw, proudly declared that ‘all ye court are fond of her, she being allways redy to do a good turn & selldom speaks ill of any one’. Her friends said the same. ‘I believe and as far as I am capable of judging know her to be a wise discret honest & sincere courtier who will promise no farther than she can perform and will always perform what she does promise,’ wrote one. Pope, who never stinted in his praise, told a friend who was about to meet her: ‘What you’ll most wonder at is, she is considerable at court, yet no Party-woman, and lives in court, yet wou’d be easy and make you easy.’ In another letter, he claimed that Mrs Howard could ‘teach two Countryfolks sincerity’. Even Swift, who later wrote a damning portrait of her, admitted: ‘Mr Pope hath always been an advocate for your sincerity, and even I in the character I gave you of your self, allowed you as much of that Virtue as could be expected in a Lady, a Courtier and a Favorite.’27

  While some expressed frustration that Mrs Howard was ‘as close as a stopped bottle’, her discretion won the trust and admiration of her fellow ladies at court. Mary Bellenden, a flirtatious and wayward Maid of Honour who had much to conceal, was certainly glad of it, and told her: ‘I intirely confide in you upon all occasions, & believe you as I doe ye Gospel.’ Henrietta no doubt owed much of her discretion to the years of having to endure her husband’s drunkenness, violence and womanising while presenting a respectable demeanour to the outside world. Some courtiers mistook this for a want of feeling, but Pope knew the truth and once told her: ‘You, that I know feel even to Delicacy, upon several triffling occasions.’ Another close friend, Horace Walpole, later commented: ‘her patience and good breeding makes her for ever sink and conceal what she feels’. Even Lord Hervey, who disliked her, recognised that her apparent passivity hid a multitude of sorrows, and remarked: ‘few people who felt so sensibly could have suffered so patiently’.28

  Mrs Howard’s calm, dispassionate manner may have had an additional cause. She frequently complained of pains in her head, and some time in her late twenties or early thirties, she began to lose her hearing. The two conditions could have been related, although it is just as likely that the headaches were due to emotional rather than neurological causes. The constant fear that her husband would make fresh trouble, together with the pressures of her service to the Princess, must have made her life at court stressful at times. Her deafness would not have helped the situation, as it would have forced her to concentrate hard in order to understand any of the conversations going on around her.

  In 1727, when she was aged thirty-eight, she told Swift, who suffered from the same affliction, that she had ‘a bad head, and deaf ears’, and that these were ‘two misfortunes I have labour’d under several Years’. Six years earlier, Mary Bellenden (by then Mrs Campbell) blamed Henrietta’s failure to relay a message on either ‘your memory or your ears’.29 Pope affectionately referred to his friend’s disability in ‘On a Certain Lady at Court’:

  ‘Has she no faults, then (Envy says), sir?’

  Yes, she has one, I must aver:

  When all the world conspires to praise her,

  The woman’s deaf, and does not hear.

  To be hard of hearing in a world that fed on gossip, intrigue and scandal was clearly a great disadvantage, and Henrietta resorted to the most extreme measures to try to cure it. One surgeon even persuaded her to have her jaw bored, which in the days before anaesthetic must have been an agonising procedure. She took a long time to recover, and later admitted: ‘that pain of the opperation was almost insuportable and the Consequence was many weeks of missery and I am not yet free from pain’. This was enough to destroy her faith in the medical profession, and when, two years later, another surgeon offered to test his theory on her that since the ear was of no use in hearing, it should be removed, she politely declined.30

  The extent to which Mrs Howard’s deafness lay behind her apparent neutrality and discretion cannot be known for certain. Whatever was the case, these qualities now won her an admirer who was to change the course of her life for ever.

  Chapter 8

  ‘J’aurai des maîtresses’

  * * *

  THE PRINCE OF WALES’S attentions to Henrietta had been increasing steadily since the summer at Hampton Court in 1716, and by the time the royal party moved to Leicester Hou
se the following year, ambitious courtiers and politicians were beginning to seek preferment through her intervention. While the friendship between them was becoming closer, it had not yet become a physical liaison. Indeed, the Prince’s attentions were at that time focused upon another.

  Mary Bellenden, who was lauded as one of the greatest beauties at court, had become the object of royal desire soon after the move to Leicester House. Lord Hervey claimed that she was ‘incontestably the most agreeable, the most insinuating and the most likeable woman of her time, made up of every ingredient likely to engage or attach a lover’.1 Like Henrietta, Miss Bellenden had attracted many of the poets and wits who hung about court, including Gay, who described her as ‘smiling Mary, soft and fair as down’.2 But their admiration was rather shallower than the esteem they held for Henrietta, for Mary had little of the wit and learning of her fellow court lady. This was no barrier to the affections of the Prince, with his aversion to intellectuals and abhorrence for learning in women. He therefore used every strategy he knew to get her into bed. Miss Bellenden felt no reciprocal passion, however, and rejected his clumsy advances. She later confided to Henrietta that her tactics had been to ‘cross her armes’ at him whenever he approached.3

  But the Prince was not to be so easily deterred. Mary was notoriously short of money and often complained to friends of her penniless state. ‘O gad I am so sick of bills for my part, I believe I shall never be able to hear ’em mention’d without casting up my accounts,’ she told Henrietta. ‘I have paid one this morning as Long as my arme, & as broad as my bum.’4 Knowing of the lady’s impoverishment, George resolved to impress her with his wealth. One evening at court, he sat by her and, with a great flourish, took out his purse and began laboriously counting out his money. Miss Bellenden was singularly unimpressed. ‘The Prince’s gallantry was by no means delicate; & his avarice disgusted her,’ wrote Horace Walpole, who later heard the whole tale from Henrietta. Mistaking her aversion for coyness, George repeated the performance a second time, at which the lady lost all patience and cried out: ‘Sir, I cannot bear it! If you count your money any more, I will go out of the room.’ As Walpole wryly observed: ‘The chink of gold did not tempt her more than the person of his Royal Highness.’5