Farmer George, Volume 1
by Lewis Melville · English · Gutenberg #39980 · 420,543 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Farmer George, Volume 1
Author: Lewis Melville
Release date: July 1, 2012 [eBook #39980]
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FARMER GEORGE, VOLUME 1 ***
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file was produced from images generously made available
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FARMER GEORGE
[Illustration: _From a print_ (_circa 1812_) _in the British Museum_
GEORGE THE THIRD]
FARMER GEORGE
BY
LEWIS MELVILLE
_Author of_ "_The First Gentleman of Europe_,"
"_The Life of William Makepeace Thackeray_,"
_&c., &c._
WITH FIFTY-THREE PORTRAITS AND ILLUSTRATIONS
IN TWO VOLUMES
VOL. I
LONDON: SIR ISAAC PITMAN AND SONS, LTD.
NO. 1 AMEN CORNER, E. C.
[Illustration]
1907
PRINTED BY
SIR ISAAC PITMAN & SONS, LTD.
BATH.
(2002)
_To_
THOMAS SECCOMBE
_To whom the Author is indebted for
many valuable suggestions_
CONTENTS
VOL. I
CHAP. PAGE
INTRODUCTION ix
I. FREDERICK, PRINCE OF WALES 1
II. BOYHOOD OF GEORGE III 33
III. THE PRINCE COMES OF AGE 62
IV. THE NEW KING 71
V. "THE FAIR QUAKER" 86
VI. LADY SARAH LENNOX AND GEORGE III 105
VII. THE ROYAL MARRIAGE 120
VIII. THE RISE AND FALL OF "THE FAVOURITE" 136
IX. THE COURT OF GEORGE III 167
X. THE PRIVATE LIFE OF THE KING AND QUEEN 202
XI. "NO. XLV" 235
XII. THE KING UNDER GRENVILLE 269
ILLUSTRATIONS
VOL. I
PAGE
GEORGE III _frontispiece_
FREDERICK, PRINCE OF WALES _facing_ 5
THE PRINCE AND PRINCESS OF WALES, MISS VANE
AND HER SON " 11
CAROLINE, CONSORT OF GEORGE II " 15
GEORGE II " 15
PRINCE GEORGE OF WALES, PRINCE EDWARD OF
WALES, AND DR. AYSCOUGH " 35
AUGUSTA, PRINCESS DOWAGER OF WALES " 41
LEICESTER HOUSE " 45
GEORGE, PRINCE OF WALES " 55
GEORGE III " 62
GEORGE III IN HIS CORONATION ROBES " 71
"THE BUTTON MAKER" " 75
MISS AXFORD (HANNAH LIGHTFOOT) " 86
LADY SARAH LENNOX SACRIFICING TO THE MUSES " 105
QUEEN CHARLOTTE " 120
JOHN, EARL OF BUTE " 136
WINDSOR CASTLE " 167
"THE KITCHEN METAMORPHOZ'D" " 178
"LEARNING TO MAKE APPLE DUMPLINGS" " 190
THE KING RELIEVING PRISONERS IN DORCHESTER
GAOL " 196
"SUMMER AMUSEMENTS AT FARMER GEORGE'S" " 198
BUCKINGHAM HOUSE " 202
"THE CONSTANT COUPLE" " 220
KEW PALACE " 223
JOHN WILKES " 235
"THE BRUISER" (CHARLES CHURCHILL) " 243
THE KING'S LIFE ATTEMPTED " 258
"THE RECONCILIATION" " 268
THE RIGHT HON. GEORGE GRENVILLE " 270
FARMER GEORGE
Vol. I
INTRODUCTION
This work is an attempt to portray the character of George III and to
present him alike in his private life and in his Court. It is,
therefore, not essential to the scheme of this book to treat of the
political history of the reign, but it is impossible entirely to ignore
it, since the King was so frequently instrumental in moulding it.[1]
Only those events in which he took a leading part have been introduced,
and consequently these volumes contain no account of Irish and Indian
affairs, in which, apart from the Catholic Emancipation and East India
Bills, the King did not actively interest himself.
[1] "So closely is the domestic history of George the Third connected
with the political events of his reign, as to render it almost
impossible to disassociate the one from the other. Fortunately, however,
in the war of party and in the animated struggle for ascendency which he
so long carried on with the great Whig aristocracy, there is ample and
stirring interest."--J. H. Jesse.
This difficulty was not met with by the author when writing a book on
the life and times of George IV,[2] because that Prince had little to do
with politics. It is true that he threw his influence into the scale of
the Opposition as soon as, or even before, he came of age, but this was
for strictly personal reasons. Fox and Sheridan were the intimates of
the later years of his minority, and his association with them gave him
the pleasure of angering his father: it was his protest against George
III for refusing him the income to which he considered himself, as
Prince of Wales, entitled. He had, however, no interest in politics, as
such, either before or after he ascended the throne; and, indeed, as
King, the only measure that interested him was the Bill for the
emancipation of the Catholics, which he opposed because resistance to it
had made his father and his brother Frederick popular.
[2] _The First Gentleman of Europe._ 2 vols. 1906.
With George III the case was very different. He came to the throne in
his twenty-third year, with his mother's advice, "Be King, George,"
ringing in his ears, and, fully determined to carry out this instruction
to the best of his ability, he was not content to reign without making
strenuous efforts to rule. "Farmer George," the nickname that has clung
to him ever since it was bestowed satirically in the early days of his
reign, has come, except by those well versed in the history of the
times, to be accepted as a tribute to his simple-mindedness and his
homely mode of living. To these it will come as a shock to learn that
"Farmer George" was a politician of duplicity so amazing that, were he
other than a sovereign, it might well be written down as
unscrupulousness. Loyalty, indeed, seems to have been foreign to his
nature: he was a born schemer. When the Duke of Newcastle was in power,
George plotted for the removal of Pitt, knowing that the resignation of
the "Great Commoner" must eventually bring about the retirement of the
Duke, and so leave Bute in possession of supreme authority. When within
a year "The Favourite" was compelled to withdraw, George, unperturbed,
appointed George Grenville Prime Minister, but finding him
unsubservient, intrigued against him, was found out, compelled to
promise to abstain from further interference against his own ministers,
broke his word again and again, and finally brought about the downfall
of Grenville, who was succeeded by the Marquis of Rockingham. Again
George employed the most unworthy means to get rid of Rockingham, and
during the debates on the repeal of the Stamp Act encouraged his
Household to vote against the Government, assuring them they should not
lose their places, indeed would rise higher in his favour, because of
their treachery to the head of the Administration of the Crown; and all
the while he was writing encouraging notes to Rockingham assuring him of
his support! This strange record of underhand intrigues has been traced
in the following pages.
George had not even the excuse of success for his treachery. It is true
that he contrived to compel the resignation of various ministers, but
his incursions into the political arena were fraught with disaster. He
forced Bute on the nation, and Bute could not venture to enter the City
except with a band of prize-fighters around his carriage to protect him!
He took an active part against Wilkes, and Wilkes became a popular hero!
He encouraged the imposition of the Stamp Act in America, and in the end
America was lost to England! Having no knowledge of men and being
ignorant of the world, he was guided at first by secret advisers, and
subsequently by his own likes and dislikes, coupled with a regard for
his dignity, that did not, however, prevent him from personally
canvassing Windsor in favour of the Court candidate when Keppel was
standing for the parliamentary representation of the town.
George III was, according to his lights, a good man--
"I grant his household abstinence; I grant
His neutral virtues, which most monarchs want;"
a kind master; a well-meaning, though unwise father; a faithful husband,
possessing
"that household virtue, most uncommon,
Of constancy to a bad, ugly woman,"
which was the more creditable as his nature was vastly susceptible. He
was pious, anxious to do his duty, and deeply attached to his country,
but believing himself always in the right, was frequently led by his
feelings into courses such as justified Byron's magnificent onslaught:--
"In the first year of Freedom's second dawn
Died George the Third; although no tyrant, one
Who shielded tyrants, till each sense withdrawn
Left him nor mental nor external sun;
A better farmer ne'er brushed dew from lawn,
A worse king never left a realm undone.
He died--but left his subjects still behind,
One half as mad, and t'other no less blind."[3]
[3] _The Vision of Judgment._
Yet, notwithstanding all the mistakes George III made, and all the
mischief he did, his reign ended in a blaze of glory. England had
survived the French Revolution without disastrous effects; and had taken
a leading part in the subjugation of Napoleon. Nelson and Wellington,
Wordsworth and Keats, Fox and Pitt, reflected their glory and the
splendour of their actions upon the country of their birth. Yet--such is
the irony of fate at its bitterest--while the world acknowledged the
supremacy of England on land, at sea, and in commerce, while a whole
people, delighted with magnificent achievements, acclaimed their ruler,
crying lustily "God save the King," George, in whose name these great
deeds were done, was but "a crazy old blind man in Windsor Tower."
"Give me a royal niche--it is my due,
The virtuousest king the realm ever knew.
I, through a decent reputable life,
Was constant to plain food and a plain wife.
Ireland I risked, and lost America;
But dined on legs of mutton every day.
My brain, perhaps, might be a feeble part;
But yet I think I had an English heart.
When all the Kings were prostrate, I alone
Stood face to face against Napoleon;
Nor ever could the ruthless Frenchman forge
A fetter for old England and old George.
I let loose flaming Nelson on his fleets;
I met his troops with Wellesley's bayonets.
Triumphant waved my flag on land and sea:
Where was the King in Europe like to me?
Monarchs exiled found shelter on my shores;
My bounty rescued Kings and Emperors.
But what boots victory by land and sea,
What boots that Kings found refuge at my knee?
I was a conqueror, but yet not proud;
And careless, even when Napoleon bow'd.
The rescued Kings came kiss my garments' hem:
The rescued Kings I never heeded them.
My guns roared triumph, but I never heard:
All England thrilled with joy, I never stirred.
What care had I of pomp, of fame, or power--
A crazy old blind man in Windsor Tower?"[4]
[4] Thackeray: _The Georges_.
CHAPTER I
FREDERICK, PRINCE OF WALES
Historians have found something to praise in George I, and the bravery
of George II on the field of battle has prejudiced many in favour of
that monarch. George III has been extolled for his domestic virtues, and
his successor held up to admiration for his courtly manners, while
William IV found favour in the eyes of many for his homely air. Of all
the Hanoverian princes in the direct line of succession to the English
throne, alone Frederick Louis, Prince of Wales, lacks a solitary admirer
among modern writers.
Frederick was born at Hanover on January 6, 1707, was there educated;
and there, after the accession of George II to the English throne,
remained, a mere lad, away from parental control, compelled to hold a
daily Drawing-room, at which he received the adulation of unscrupulous
and self-seeking courtiers in a dull, vulgar, and immoral Court. George
II, remembering his behaviour to his father, was in no hurry to summon
his son to England; and Frederick might have remained the ornament of
the Hanoverian capital until his death, but that the English thought it
advisable their future king should not be allowed to grow up in
ignorance of the manners and customs of the land over which in the
ordinary course of nature he would reign. Neither the King nor the Queen
had any affection for the young man; and they were so reluctant to bring
him into prominence, or even into frequent intercourse with themselves,
that they disregarded the murmur of the people, and were inclined even
to ignore the advice of the Privy Council--when news from Hanover caused
them hurriedly to send for him.
Queen Sophia Dorothea of Prussia had years earlier said to Princess
Caroline, afterwards Queen of England, "You, Caroline, Cousin dear, have
a little Prince, Fritz, or let us call him _Fred_, since he is to be
English; little Fred, who will one day, if all go right, be King of
England. He is two years older than my little Wilhelmina, why should
they not wed, and the two chief Protestant Houses, and Nations, thereby
be united?" There was nothing to be said against this proposal, and much
in its favour. "Princess Caroline was very willing; so was Electress
Sophie, the Great-Grandmother of both the parties; so were the Georges,
Father and Grandfather of Fred: little Fred himself was highly charmed,
when told, of it; even little Wilhelmina, with her dolls, looked
pleasantly demure on the occasion. So it remained settled in fact,
though not in form; and little Fred (a florid milk-faced foolish kind of
Boy, I guess), made presents to his little Prussian Cousin, wrote bits
of love-letters to her and all along afterwards fancied himself, and at
length ardently enough became, her little lover and intended--always
rather a little fellow:--to which sentiments Wilhelmina signifies that
she responded with the due maidenly indifference, but not in an
offensive manner."[5] Then Prussian Fritz or Fred was born, and it was
further agreed that Amelia, George II's second daughter, should marry
him. George I sanctioned the arrangement, but the treaty in which it was
incorporated was never signed; and on his accession, George II, for many
reasons, was no longer desirous to carry out the marriage. Only Queen
Sophia held to her project, and Frederick, the intended husband. The
latter, doubtless incited by his father's opposition to imagine himself
in love with Wilhelmina, caused it to be intimated to Queen Sophia that,
if she would consent, he would travel secretly to Prussia and marry his
cousin. The Queen was delighted, and summoned her husband to be present
at the nuptials, but, anxious to share her joy, must needs select as a
confidant the English ambassador Dubourgay, who, of course, could not
treat such a communication as a confidence, and, to the Queen's horror,
told her he must dispatch the news to his sovereign. In vain Sophia
Dorothea pleaded for silence: it would spell ruin for it to be said that
the envoy had known of the secret and had not informed his master. The
only chance for the successful issue of the scheme was that Frederick
should arrive before his father could interfere, but this was not to be.
Colonel Launay came from England charged to return with the
heir-apparent; and so the marriage was, at least, postponed. Frederick
arrived in England on December 4, 1728, and early in the following year
Sir Charles Hotham went as minister plenipotentiary to the King of
Prussia to propose the carrying out of the double-marriage project, but
while the latter was willing to consent to the marriage of his daughter
with the Prince, he would not accept for his son the hand of Princess
Amelia, declaring that he ought to espouse the Princess Royal. Neither
party would give way, and the dislike of the potentates for each other
resulted in 1730 in a definite rupture of the negotiations.
[5] Carlyle: _History of Frederick the Great_.
In Books V, VI and VII of this work is a full account of "The Double
Marriage Project."
[Illustration:
_Photo by Emery Walker_
_From a painting by B. Dandridge_
FREDERICK, PRINCE OF WALES]
On his arrival in England Frederick[6] was received with acclamation by
the populace, but his relations with his parents were strained from the
start. The original cause of quarrel is unknown to the present
generation, and even at the time few were acquainted with it, though Sir
Robert Walpole knew it, and Lord Hervey,[7] who wrote it down, only for
his memorandum to be destroyed by his son, the Earl of Bristol.[8] It
may be assumed, however, that his father's conduct in the negotiations
for the marriage with the Princess of Prussia widened the breach. The
Prince of Wales was certainly not an agreeable person. In Hanover he had
indulged to excess in "_Wein, Weib, und Gesang_," and he was the
unfortunate possessor of a mean, paltry, despicable nature that revolted
those with whom he was brought into contact. His mother hated him--"He
is such an ass that one cannot tell what he thinks"; his sister Amelia
loathed him and wished he were dead--"He is the greatest liar that ever
spoke, and will put one arm round anybody's neck to kiss them, and then
stab them with the other if he can"; and his father detested him. "My
dear first born is the greatest ass, the greatest liar, the greatest
_canaille_ and the greatest beast in the whole world, and I heartily
wish he was out of it," so said George II, and it must be conceded that
in the main he was right.
[6] Created Duke of Gloucester, 1717; Duke of Edinburgh, 1727; Prince of
Wales, January 9, 1729.
[7] John Hervey, younger son of John Hervey, first Earl of Bristol,
styled after the death of his elder brother, Baron Hervey of Ickworth
(1696-1743).
[8] George William Hervey, second Earl of Bristol (1721-1775).
Of course, the faults were not all on the side of the Prince of Wales:
indeed, they were fairly evenly distributed between father and son. From
the first he was publicly ignored by George II. "Whenever the Prince was
in the room with the King it put one in mind of stories that one has
heard of ghosts that appear to part of the company, and were invisible
to the rest; and in this manner wherever the Prince stood, though the
King passed him ever so often, or ever so near, it always seems as if
the King thought the Prince filled a void of space."[9] The father took
advantage of his position to keep the son short of money; and the son,
after the manner of Hanoverian heirs-apparent, retorted by throwing
himself into the arms of the Opposition. The Prince of Wales's great
grievance was that he received an allowance only of L50,000 and that _at
the King's pleasure_: and he contended that as George II, when Prince of
Wales, had received L100,000 a year from George I's Civil List of
L700,000, it was manifestly unfair that as the Civil List had been
increased to L800,000, the Prince of Wales's income should be reduced by
half and that dependent on the sovereign's humour.
[9] Hervey: _Memoirs of the Court of George II_.
Frederick, who had left Hanover in debt, had been further embarrassed in
London, and, to free himself from financial trouble discussed with
Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough, a marriage between himself and her
granddaughter, Lady Diana Spencer,[10] conditional on the dowry being
L100,000. The ambitious old lady was favourable to the scheme--it has
been said, and perhaps with truth, that it was her proposal--and
arrangements were made for the ceremony to take place privately at the
Lodge in Windsor Great Park; but Sir Robert Walpole heard of it--that
wily statesman learnt most secrets--and told the King, who forbade the
marriage.
[10] Afterwards married John, fourth Duke of Bedford.
The Prince did not at first commit any serious offence against the King,
but he contrived, with or without intention, to irritate or affront him
almost daily. He wrote, or inspired, the "History of Prince Titi," in
which the King and Queen were caricatured; and, with the guidance of
Bubb Dodington,[11] formed a Court that became a _rendezvous_ of the
Opposition and the disaffected generally. It became his object in life
to outshine his father in popularity, and as George II was not a
favourite, and as Frederick could be agreeable when he wanted to make a
good impression, and, besides, had the invaluable asset of a reasonable
grievance, he did to a large extent succeed in his quest. "The Prince's
character at his first coming over, though little more respectable,
seemed much more amiable than, upon his opening himself further and
being better known, it turned out to be; for, though there appeared
nothing in him to be admired, yet there seemed nothing in him to be
hated--neither anything great nor anything vicious. His behaviour was
something that gained one's good wishes while it gave one no esteem for
him, for his best qualities, whilst they prepossessed one the most in
his favour, always gave one a degree of contempt for him at the same
time."[12]
[11] George Bubb Dodington, afterwards Baron Melcombe of Melcombe Regis
(1691-1762).
[12] Hervey: _Memoirs of the Court of George II_.
If George II was jealous of the Prince of Wales, the latter in turn was
jealous of his sister, the Princess Royal, and he regarded it as a
personal affront when in 1734 she was united to the Prince of Orange;
thus, in spite of his two endeavours, marrying before him, and securing
a settled income. A quarrel ensued, and the rivalry between the two
convulsed the operatic world into which, being in itself _opera bouffe_,
it was suitably carried. The Princess Royal was a friend and patron of
Handel at the Haymarket Theatre: and therefore must her brother and his
companions support the rival Buononcini at Lincoln's Inn Fields. The
King and Queen sided with their daughter, and, says Hervey, "The affair
grew as serious as that of the Greens and Blues under Justinian at
Constantinople; and an anti-Handelist was looked upon as an
anti-courtier, and voting against the Court in Parliament was hardly a
less remissible or more venial sin than speaking against Handel or going
to the Lincoln's Inn Fields Opera."[13] The victory in this
Tweedledum-Tweedledee controversy fell to the Prince, though the
sovereigns would not for a long time admit defeat, which gave
Chesterfield[14] the opening for a _mot_: he told the Prince he had been
that evening to the Haymarket Theatre, "but there being no one there but
the King and Queen, and as I thought they might be talking business, I
came away."
[13] _Memoirs of the Court of George II._
[14] Philip Dormer Stanhope, fourth Earl of Chesterfield (1694-1773).
When the Princess Royal was married, the Prince of Wales presented
himself before the King, and made three demands--permission to serve in
the Rhine campaign, a settled and increased income, and a suitable
marriage. George II gave an immediate and decided refusal to the first,
but consented to consider the other proposals. As a result of
negotiations arising from this conversation, the Prince of Wales married
on April 26, 1736, Augusta, daughter of Frederick, Duke of Saxe-Gotha.
There were great national rejoicings, and "I believe," said Horace
Walpole, "the Princess will have more beauties bestowed on her by all
the occasional poets than ever a painter would afford her. They will
cook up a new Pandora, and in the bottom of the box enclose Hope that
all they have said is true." Indeed, a salvo of eulogistic addresses in
rhyme greeted the nuptial pair, headed by William Whitehead, the
Laureate, who, on such occasions, could always be relied upon to write
ridiculously fulsome lines.
"Such was the age, so calm the earth's repose,
When Maro sung, and a new Pollio rose.
Oh! from such omens may again succeed
Some glorious youth to grace the nuptial bed;
Some future Scipio, good as well as great;
Some young Marcellus with a better fate;
Some infant Frederick, or some George to grace
The rising records of the Brunswick race."
[Illustration: THE PRINCE AND PRINCESS OF WALES AND (IN THE BACKGROUND)
MISS VANE AND HER SON
_April 25th, 1736_]
The new Princess of Wales was a mere girl, straight from her
mother's country house, and ignorant of courts, but not lacking
self-possession nor good sense. "The Princess is neither handsome nor
ugly, tall nor short, but has a lively, pretty countenance enough,"[15]
and she found favour in the eyes of her husband, who, though attracted
by her, was not content to be faithful. "The chief passion of the Prince
was women," says Horace Walpole; "but, like the rest of his race, beauty
was not a necessary ingredient." Soon after he came to England he had an
intrigue with Anne Vane, the eldest daughter of Gilbert, Baron Barnard,
and one of the Queen's maids of honour. "Beautiful Vanelia" was not
immaculate, and she gave birth to a child in her apartments in St.
James's Palace; the first Lord Hartington and Lord Hervey both believed
themselves to be the father, but she, to make the most of her
opportunity, wisely accredited the paternity to the Prince of Wales, who
thus earned the undying hatred of Hervey.[16] The proud father then
turned his attention to Lady Archibald Hamilton (wife of the Duke of
Hamilton's brother), who had ten children, was neither young nor
beautiful, but clever enough to let her husband believe she was
faithful, although the intimacy between her and her royal lover was
patent to all the world besides.
[15] Wraxall: _Historical Memoirs of My Own Times_.
[16] The boy was christened Cornwell Fitz-Frederick, and was buried in
Westminster Abbey, February 26, 1736.
Realising the advisability to be off with the old love before he was on
with the new, Frederick sent Lord Baltimore to Miss Vane, commanding her
to live abroad for a period, on pain of forfeiting the allowance of
L1,600 that he had made her since her dismissal from court--"if she
would not live abroad, she might starve for him in England." Miss Vane
sent for Hervey, who recommended her to refuse obedience--a step that
infuriated the Prince with the adviser; but eventually she reminded her
erstwhile lover of all she had sacrificed for the love she bore him, and
this so tickled his vanity that not only did he permit her to retain her
son and the income, and to remain in England, but gave her a house in
Grosvenor Street wherein to live.
Following the example of George II, who had appointed his mistress, Mrs.
Howard, to be woman of the bedchamber to his wife, Frederick made Lady
Archibald Hamilton a lady-in-waiting to the Princess of Wales. Lady
Archibald, however, was soon replaced in his favour by Lady Middlesex,
who, although not good-looking, was the possessor of many
accomplishments; but she had to be content to share his affections with
Miss Granville and various opera dancers and singers.
The Prince, being unable to secure an increased income from his father,
resorted to the usual princely device of borrowing money wherever he
could get it. "They have found a way in the city to borrow L30,000 for
the Prince at ten per cent. interest, to pay his crying debts to
tradespeople; but I doubt that sum will not go very far," wrote the
Duchess of Marlborough. "The salaries in the Prince's family are L25,000
a year, besides a good deal of expense at Cliefden in building and
furniture; and the Prince and Princess's allowance for their clothes is
L6,000 a year each. I am sorry there is such an increase in expense more
than in former times, when there was more money a great deal: and I
really think it would have been more for the Prince's interest if his
counsellors had advised him to live only as a great man, and to give the
reasons for it; and in doing so he would have made a better figure, and
been safer, for nobody that does not get by it themselves can possibly
think the contrary method a right one." The debts accumulated so
rapidly, that there was really some show of reason for Lord Hervey
(always on the look-out to revenge himself for the defection of his
mistress) saying to the Queen that there actually "was danger of the
King's days being shortened by the profligate usurers who lent the
Prince of Wales money on condition of being paid at his Majesty's
death, and who, he thought, would want nothing but a fair opportunity to
hasten the day of payment; and the King's manner of exposing himself
would make it easy for the usurers to accomplish such a design."[17]
[17] Hervey: _Memoirs of the Court of George II_.
Hitherto in his quarrels with his parents Frederick had not always been
in the wrong, but in 1737 he committed an unpardonable offence in
connexion with the birth of his first legitimate child, Augusta,
afterwards Duchess of Brunswick, and the mother of Caroline, the unhappy
consort of George IV. Though he had known for many months that the
Princess of Wales was with child he did not inform his parents of the
approaching event until July 5. But that was the least part of his
transgression. Twice in that month he took the Princess secretly from
Hampton Court to St. James's Palace, and on the second occasion, with
only Lady Archibald Campbell in attendance, arrived in London but a few
hours before the _accouchement_.
[Illustration:
_Photo by Emery Walker_
_From a portrait by Enoch Seaman_
CAROLINE, CONSORT OF GEORGE II]
[Illustration:
_Photo by Emery Walker_
_From a portrait by T. Worlidge_
GEORGE II]
The Queen had determined to be present at the birth.--"She [the Princess
of Wales] cannot be brought to bed as quick as one can blow one's nose,"
she had told the King, "and I will be sure it is her child." Both were
furious at being circumvented, and the King expressed his anger in no
measured terms. "See now, with all your wisdom, how they have outwitted
you," the King addressed his wife. "This is all your fault. There is a
false child will be put upon you, and how will you answer it to all your
children? This has been fine care and fine management for your son
William: he is much indebted to you." The Queen drove to St. James's
without delay, saw the child, and abandoned her suspicions. "God bless
you, poor little creature," she said as she kissed it, "you have come
into a disagreeable world." Had it been a big, healthy boy, instead of a
girl, she said, she might not so readily have accepted the paternity
claimed for it.
"The King has commanded me," Lord Essex[18] wrote from Hampton Court to
the Prince of Wales on August 3, "to acquaint your Royal Highness that
his Majesty most heartily rejoices at the safe delivery of the Princess;
but that your carrying away of her Royal Highness from Hampton Court,
the then residence of the King, the Queen, and the Royal Family, under
the pains and certain indication of immediate labour, to the imminent
danger and hazard both of the Princess and her child, and after
sufficient warnings for a week before, to have made the necessary
preparations for this happy event, without acquainting his Majesty, or
the Queen, with the circumstances the Princess was in, or giving them
the least notice of your departure, is looked upon by the King to be
such a deliberate indignity offered to himself and to the Queen, that he
resents it to the highest degree."[19]
[18] William Capel, third Earl of Essex.
[19] _Letters ... between the King, Queen, Prince and Princess of Wales,
on the occasion of the birth of the young Princess, 1737._
A lengthy correspondence ensued, wherein, on the one hand, the Prince
excused himself on the ground that the Princess was seized with the
pains of labour earlier than was expected, and that at Hampton Court he
was without a midwife or any assistance; and, on the other, the King
declined to accept these reasons as true, refused to receive his son,
and ordered him to leave St. James's as soon as possible, summing up the
situation in a final letter, dated September 10.
"GEORGE R.
"The professions you have lately made in your letters, of your
peculiar regards to me, are so contradictory to all your actions,
that I cannot suffer myself to be imposed upon by them. You know
very well you did not give the least intimation to me or to the
Queen that the Princess was with child or breeding, until within
less than a month of the birth of the young Princess: you removed
the Princess twice in the week immediately preceding the day of her
delivery from the place of my residence, in expectation, as you
have voluntarily declared, of her labour; and both times upon your
return, you industriously concealed from the knowledge of me and
the Queen every circumstance relating to this important affair: and
you, at last, without giving any notice to me, or to the Queen,
precipitately hurried the Princess from Hampton Court, in a
condition not to be named. After having thus, in execution of your
own determined measures, exposed both the Princess and her child to
the greatest perils, you now plead surprise and tenderness for the
Princess, as the only motives that occasioned these repeated
indignities offered to me and to the Queen your mother.
"This extravagant and undutiful behaviour in so essential a point
as the birth of an heir to my crown, is such evidence to your
premeditated defiance of me, and such a contempt of my authority
and of the natural right belonging to your parents, as cannot be
excused by the pretended innocence of your intentions, nor
palliated or disguised by specious words only.
"But the whole tenour of your conduct for a considerable time has
been so entirely void of all real duty to me, that I have long had
reason to be highly offended with you. And until you withdraw your
regard and confidence from those by whose instigation and advice
you are directed and encouraged in your unwarrantable behaviour to
me and your Queen, and until your return to your duty, you shall
not reside in my palace: which I will not suffer to be made the
resort of them who, under the appearance of an attachment to you,
foment the division which you have made in my family, and thereby
weaken the common interest of the whole.
"In the meantime, it is my pleasure that you leave St. James's with
all your family, when it can be done without prejudice or
inconvenience to the Princess. I shall for the present leave to the
Princess the care of my granddaughter, until a proper time calls
upon me to consider of her education.
"(signed) G. R."[20]
[20] _Letters ... between the King, Queen, Prince and Princess of Wales,
on the occasion of the birth of the young Princess, 1737._
The Prince, through Lord Baltimore, expressed a desire to make a
personal explanation to the Queen, who, through Lord Grantham, declined
to receive it; and later the Princess, doubtless prompted by her
husband, wrote to the King and Queen to express a desire for
reconciliation, but in vain, for, in the sovereign's eyes, their son's
offence was rank. Indeed, the King went so far as to print the
correspondence between himself and the Prince of Wales, to which the
latter made the effectual reply of publishing the not dissimilar letters
of his father, when Prince of Wales, to George I. This reduced the King
to impotent fury: he declared he did not believe Frederick could be his
son, and insisted that he must be "what in German we call a
_Wechselbalch_--I do not know if you have a word for it in English--it
is not what you call a foundling, but a child put in a cradle instead of
another."
What induced Frederick to risk the life of his wife and his unborn
child, and to put to hazard the succession was a mystery at the time,
and must for ever remain without satisfactory explanation. That it was
done solely to annoy his parents seems insufficient reason, though it is
all that offers, and Hervey suggests the hasty nocturnal removal was
effected to prevent the presence of the Queen at the birth. This
certainly seems insufficient to account for the unwarrantable
proceeding, but no other solution offers itself.
The Prince of Wales had in 1730 taken a lease from the Capel family of
Kew House (the fee of which was many years after purchased by George
III from the Dowager Countess of Essex), and there he and his wife
repaired for a while after being evicted from St. James's Palace; but
soon they came back to London, and held their court, first at Norfolk
House, St. James's Square, placed at their disposal by the Duke of
Norfolk, and later at Leicester House, Leicester Square. The King
expressed a wish that no one should visit his son, and actually caused
it to be intimated to foreign ambassadors that to call on the Prince of
Wales was objectionable to him; but this injunction was so generally
disregarded that he took the extraordinary step of issuing, through his
Chamberlain, a threat.
"His Majesty, having been informed that due regard has not been
paid to his order of September 11, 1737, has thought fit to declare
that no person whatsoever, who shall go to pay their court to their
Royal Highnesses, the Prince and Princess of Wales, shall be
admitted into his Majesty's presence, at any of his royal palaces.
"(signed) Grafton."
Even this measure failed of its effect, for while those who sought the
King's favour had not been to Leicester House, the Opposition, knowing
they had nothing to lose, were not affected by this command. Indeed, the
Opposition, delighted to have so influential a chief, flocked around
Frederick; and Bolingbroke,[21] Chesterfield, Pulteney,[22] Dodington,
Carteret,[23] Wyndham,[24] Townshend[25] and Cobham,[26] were soon
numbered among his regular visitors; while Huish has compiled a long
list of peers[27] who frequently attended his _levees_.
[21] Henry St. John, first Viscount Bolingbroke (1678-1751).
[22] Sir William Pulteney, afterwards Earl of Bath (1684-1764).
[23] John Carteret, afterwards Earl Granville (1690-1763).
[24] Sir Charles Wyndham, afterwards second Earl of Egremont
(1710-1763).
[25] Sir William Townshend, second son of Charles, second Viscount
Townshend (1702?-1738).
[26] Richard Temple, Viscount Cobham (1669?-1749).
[27] Dukes of Beaufort, Bedford, Argyle, Bridgwater and Roxburghe;
Marquis of Carnarvon; and Earls of Derby, Denbigh, Westmoreland,
Winchelsea, Thanet, Sandwich, Carlisle, Aylesbury, Litchfield,
Scarborough, Coventry, Oxford, Aylesford, Halifax, Macclesfield,
Darnley, Barrymore, Inclagreen and Gronard.
The Prince made a very determined bid for popularity among all classes.
He put himself at the head of "The Patriots," and in 1739 recorded his
first vote as a peer of Parliament against the Address and in favour of
the war policy; subsequently, when war was declared, taking part with
the Opposition in the public celebrations. He encouraged British
manufactures, and neither he nor the Princess wore, or encouraged the
wearing of, foreign materials. He gave entertainments to the nobility at
his seat at Cliefden in Buckinghamshire, and visiting Bath in 1738,
cleared the prison of all debtors and made a present of L1,000 towards
the general hospital. Nor did he neglect letters and art, for which he
had some slight regard. He patronised Thomson and Vertue the engraver,
employed Dr. Freeman to write a "History of the English Tongue" as a
text-book for Prince George and the younger princes;[28] sent two of his
court to Cave, the publisher, to inquire the name of the author of the
first issue of "The Rambler"; and exchanged badinage with Pope, whom he
visited at Twickenham. Pope received him with great courtesy and
expressions of attachment. "'Tis well," said Frederick, "but how shall
we reconcile your love to a prince with your professed indisposition to
kings, since princes will be kings in time?" "Sir," said the poet, "I
consider Royalty under that noble and authorized type of the lion: while
he is young and before his nails are grown, he may be approached and
caressed with safety and pleasure."[29]
[28] Besides Augusta, Frederick by his wife had issue: George III;
Edward Augustus, Duke of York and Albany (1739-1767); William Henry,
Duke of Gloucester and Edinburgh (1743-1805), Henry Frederick, Duke of
Cumberland (1745-1790); Frederick William (1750-1765); Caroline Matilda
(1751-1775); who married Christian VII, King of Denmark; and Louisa Anne
(1749-1768).
[29] Galt: _George III, his Court, and Family_.
Frederick became very popular. "The truth is," Mr. McCarthy has said
unkindly but with undoubted truth, "that the people in general, knowing
little about the Prince, and knowing a great deal about the King,
naturally leaned to the side of the man who might at least turn out to
be better than his father."[30]
[30] Justin McCarthy: _History of the Four Georges_.
There was a general impression that he had been ill-treated, and there
was a disposition among the lower classes to make amends for such a
slight as having to live as a private gentleman at Norfolk House,
without even the usual appanage of a sentry.
"Some I have heard who speak this with rebuke,
Guards should attend as well the prince as duke.
Guards should protect from insult Britain's heir,
Who greatly merits all the nation's care.
Pleas'd with the honest zeal, they thus express,
I tell them what each statesman must confess;
No guard so strong, so noble, e'er can prove,
As that which Frederick has--_a people's love_."
"My God, popularity makes me sick; but Fritz's popularity makes me
vomit," exclaimed the Queen, perhaps after hearing that when Frederick
assisted to extinguish a fire, the mob cried, "Crown him! crown him!" "I
hear that yesterday, on his side of the House, they talked of the King's
being cast aside with the same _sang froid_ as one would talk of a coach
being overturned; and that my good son strutted about as if he had been
already King. Did you mind the air with which he came into my
Drawing-room in the morning, though he does not think fit to honour me
with his presence or _ennui_ me with that of his wife's of a night. I
swear his behaviour shocked me so prodigiously that I could hardly bring
myself to speak to him when he was with me afterwards; I felt something
here in my throat that swelled and half choked me." The King was as
bitter, and refused to admit Frederick to the Queen's deathbed. "His
poor mother is not in a condition to see him act his false, whining,
cringing tricks now," while the Queen declared that she was sure he
wanted to see her only to have the delight of knowing she was dead a
little sooner than if he had to await the tidings at home.
An attempt in 1742 to bring to an end the crying scandal of the open
enmity between the King and the heir-apparent was made by Walpole, who
thought, by detaching the Prince from the Opposition, to strengthen his
steadily decreasing majority. The Bishop of Oxford[31] was sent to
Norfolk House to intimate that if the Prince would make his peace with
his father through the medium of a submissive letter, ministers would
prevail upon the King to increase his income by L50,000, pay his debts
to the tune of L200,000 and find places for his friends. The terms were
tempting, but the Prince, knowing that Walpole's position was
precarious, declined them, stating that he knew the offer came, not from
the King, but from the minister, and that, while he would gladly be
reconciled to his father, he could do so without setting a price upon
it. "Walpole," he declared, "was a bar between the King and his people,
between the King and foreign powers; between the King and himself." The
refusal was politic, for Walpole was most unpopular. "I have _added_ to
the debt of the nation," so ran the inscription on a scroll issuing from
the mouth of an effigy of Walpole, sitting between the King and the
Prince; "I have _subtracted_ from its glory; I have _multiplied_ its
embarrassments; and I have _divided_ its Royal Family." The Prince's
refusal to entertain the overture was a blow to the minister, who
contended against a majority in the House of Commons, until February 2,
1742, when he declared he would regard the question of the Chippenham
election as a vote of confidence, and, if defeated upon it, would never
again enter that House. He was beaten by sixteen, and on the 18th inst.
took his seat "in another place" as the Earl of Orford.
[31] Thomas Secker, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury.
"The Bishop, who had been bred a Presbyterian and man-midwife, which
sect and profession he had dropped for a season, while he was president
of a very free-thinking club, has been converted by Bishop Talbot, whose
relation he married, and had his faith settled in a prebend of
Durham."--Horace Walpole.
Immediately after Walpole's downfall, messages were exchanged between
Norfolk House and St. James's, and on February 17 father and son met and
embraced at the palace. The Prince's friends came into office, and so
happy was the Prince that he testified to his joy by liberating
four-and-twenty prisoners from his father's Bench--the amount of their
debts being added to his own. He was indeed so overcome with delight at
his virtue in being reconciled to his father that he ventured upon a
joke when Mr. Vane, who was notoriously in the court interest,
congratulated him on his reappearance at St. James's. "A vane," quoth he
to the courtier, "is a weathercock, which turns with every gust of the
wind, and therefore I dislike a vane." Witty, generous Prince!
The reconciliation was shortlived, and thereafter, for the rest of his
life, Frederick was again in opposition to the court; but of these later
years there is little or nothing to record, save that he solicited in
vain the command of the royal army in the rebellion of '45. In March,
1751, he caught cold, and on the 20th inst., while, by his bedside,
Desnoyers was playing the violin to amuse him, crying, "_Je sens la
mort_," he expired suddenly--it is said from the bursting of an abscess
which had been formed by a blow from a tennis ball. The King received
the news at the whist table, and, showing neither surprise nor emotion,
he crossed the room to where the Countess of Yarmouth sat at another
table, and, after saying simply, "_Il est mort_," retired to his
apartments. "I lost my eldest son," he remarked subsequently, "but I am
glad of it."
The writers of the day were fulsome in their praise of the deceased
Prince. Robert Southy says, Frederick died "to the unspeakable
affliction of his royal consort, and the unfeigned sorrow of all who
knew him;" and he sums him up as "a tender and obliging husband, a fond
parent, a kind master, liberal, candid and humane, a munificent patron
of the arts, an unwearied friend to merit, well-disposed to assert the
rights of mankind, in general, and warmly attached to the interests of
Great Britain."[32] In fact, Sir Galahad and the Admirable Crichton in
one! Southy was not alone in his outspoken admiration, for Mr. McCarthy
reminds us of a volume issued by Oxford University, "_Epicedia
Oxoniensia in obitum celsissimi et desideratissimi Frederici Principis
Walliae_. Here all the learned languages, and not the learned languages
alone, contributed the syllables of simulated despair. Many scholastic
gentlemen mourned in Greek; James Stillingfleet found vent in Hebrew;
Mr. Betts concealed his tears under the cloak of the Syriac speech;
George Costard sorrowed in Arabic that might have amazed Abu l'Atahiyeh;
Mr. Swinton's learned sock stirred him to Phoenician and Etruscan; and
Mr. Evans, full of national fire and the traditions of the bards,
delivered himself, and at great length, too, in Welsh."[33] Amusing,
too, was a sermon preached at Mayfair Chapel, in the course of which the
preacher, lamenting the demise of the royal personage, declared that his
Royal Highness "had no great parts, but he had great virtues; indeed,
they degenerated into vices; he was very generous, but I hear his
generosity has ruined a great many people; and then his condescension
was such that he kept very bad company."
[32] Robert Southy: _Authentic Memoirs of George the Third_.
[33] Justin McCarthy: _History of the Four Georges_.
Very differently spoke those who knew the Prince. "He was indeed as
false as his capacity would allow him to be, and was more capable in
that walk than in any other, never having the least hesitation, from
principle or fear of future detection, in telling any lie that served
his future purpose. He had a much weaker understanding, and, if
possible, a more obstinate temper than his father; that is, more
tenacious of opinions he had once formed, though less capable of ever
forming right ones. Had he had one grain of merit at the bottom of his
heart, one should have had compassion for him in the situation to which
his miserable poor head soon reduced him, a mother that despised him,
sisters that betrayed him, a brother set up against him, and a set of
servants that neglected him, and were neither of use nor capable of
being of use to him, or desirous of being so."[34] So said Lord Hervey,
and, though his known enmity to Frederick makes one reluctant to accept
his estimate, yet it must be admitted that his remarks are borne out by
others well qualified to judge. "A poor, weak, irresolute, false, lying,
dishonest, contemptible wretch, that nobody loves, that nobody
believes, that nobody will trust, and that will trust everybody by
turns, and that everybody by turns will impose upon, betray, mislead,
and plunder." Thus Sir Robert Walpole, who, during the Prince's
lifetime, thought that, if the King should die, the Queen and her
unmarried children would be in a bad way. "I do not know any people in
the world so much to be pitied," he said to Hervey, "as that gay young
company with which you and I stand every day in the drawing-room at that
door from which we this moment came, bred up in state, in affluence,
caressed and courted, and to go at once from that into dependence upon a
brother who loves them not, and whose extravagance and covetousness will
make him grudge every guinea they spend, as it must come out of a purse
not sufficient to defray the expenses of his own vices."
[34] Hervey: _Memoirs of the Court of George II_.
A later generation has not been more kind. "If," said Leigh Hunt,
"George the First was a commonplace man of the quiet order, and George
the Second of the bustling, Frederick was of an effeminate sort,
pretending to taste and gallantry, and possessed of neither. He affected
to patronise literature in order to court popularity, and because his
father and grandfather had neglected it; but he took no real interest in
the _literati_, and would meanly stop their pensions when he got out of
humour. He passed his time in intriguing against his father, and
hastening the ruin of a feeble constitution by sorry amours." "His best
quality was generosity," Horace Walpole has recorded; "his worst
insincerity and indifference to truth, which appeared so early that Earl
Stanhope wrote to Lord Sunderland, 'He has his father's head, and his
mother's heart.'"[35]
[35] Horace Walpole: _Memoirs of the Reign of George II_.
What is to be said in his favour? That through his intercession Flora
Macdonald, imprisoned for harbouring the Chevalier, received her
liberty: that when Richard Glover, the author of "Leonidas," fell upon
evil days he sent him five hundred pounds; that he was a plausible
speaker,[36] fond of music, the author of two songs, and had sufficient
sense of humour to institute an occasional practical joke. On the other
hand, he was a gambler and a spendthrift without a notion of common
honesty; he was unstable and untruthful, a feeble enemy and a lukewarm
friend; and is, indeed, best disposed of in the well-known verse:
"Here lies Fred,
Who was alive, and is dead.
Had it been his father,
I had much rather.
Had it been his brother,
Still better than another.
Had it been his sister,
No one would have missed her.
Had it been the whole generation,
Still better for the nation.
But since 'tis only Fred,
Who was alive, and is dead,
There's no more to be said."
[36] "As a friend to liberty in general, and to toleration in
particular, I wish you may meet with all proper favour; but for myself I
never give my vote in Parliament; and to influence my friends or direct
my servants in theirs does not become my station. To leave them entirely
to their own conscience and understanding is a rule I have hitherto
prescribed to myself, and it is my purpose to adhere to it through the
whole of my life." This was Frederick's reply to the Quaker who asked
him to use his influence in favour of the bill concerning his sect; and,
as Huish remarks, "could anything be more agreeable to the spirit of the
British constitution?"
CHAPTER II
BOYHOOD OF GEORGE III
George William Frederick, afterwards George III, was born on June 4,
1738. His advent into the world was so little expected at that time that
on the previous day his mother had walked in St. James's Park, had
scarcely returned from that exercise when she was taken ill, and between
seven and eight o'clock the following morning gave birth to a
seven-months' child. Frederick, therefore, could not be held responsible
because again no preparation for an _accouchement_ had been made, nor
could he be blamed because the King had only a few hours' notice of the
event.
The baby was so weak that it was thought it would not live, and at
eleven o'clock at night it was baptized by the Bishop of Oxford,[37] and
though it survived, its health was so delicate that it was thought
advisable, and indeed imperative, to abandon the strict court etiquette
dictating that a royal infant must be reared by a lady of good family,
and instead "the fine, healthy, fresh-coloured wife of a gardener" was
chosen. The woman was proud of her charge, but inclined to independence,
and when told that, in accordance with tradition, the baby could not
sleep with her, "Not sleep with me!" she exclaimed. "Then you may nurse
the boy yourselves!" As she remained firm on this point, tradition was
wisely cast to the winds, with the fortunate result that the young
Prince throve lustily and soon acquired a sound and vigorous frame of
body.[38]
[37] The baptism was repeated publicly on July 3, by the Bishop of
Oxford (as Rector of St. James's parish) at Norfolk House, when the
infant Prince was given the names of George William Frederick. The
sponsors, the King of Sweden, the Duke of Saxe-Gotha, and the Queen of
Prussia, were represented respectively by Lord Baltimore, the Marquis of
Carnarvon, and Lady Charlotte Edwin.
[38] Gait: _George III, His Court and His Family_.
It would be to throw away an opportunity for mirth to omit the lines
with which Whitehead greeted the birth of a son of the Prince of Wales.
These were enthusiastically acclaimed by a contemporary as "a beautiful,
prophetic compliment to the future monarch," but the present generation
may conceivably find another epithet.
"Thanks, Nature! thanks! the finish'd piece we own,
And worthy Frederick's love, and Britain's throne.
Th' impatient Goddess first had sketch'd the plan,
Yet ere she durst complete the wond'rous man,
To try her power, a gentler task design'd,
And formed a pattern of the softer kind.[39]
But now, bright boy, thy more exalted ray
Streams o'er the dawn, and pours a fuller day:
Nor shall, displeased, to thee her realms resign,
The earlier promise of the rising line.
And see! what signs his future worth proclaim,
See! our _Ascanius_ boast a nobler flame!
On the fair form let vulgar fancies trace
Some fond presage in ev'ry dawning grace;
More unconfined, poetic transport roves,
Sees all the soul, and all the soul approves:
Sees regal pride but reach the exterior part,
And big with virtues beat the little heart;
Whilst from his eyes soft beams of mercy flow,
And liberty supreme smiles on his infant brow.
Now, in herself secure, shall Albion rise,
And the vain frowns of future fate despise;
See willing worlds beneath her sceptre bend,
And to the verge of Time her fame extend."
[39] A poetic allusion to the Princess Royal.
[Illustration:
_Photo by Emery Walker_
_From a painting by Richard Wilson_
PRINCE GEORGE OF WALES, PRINCE EDWARD OF WALES, AND DR. AYSCOUGH]
A prince's education begins early, and George was not more than six
years of age when he was put into harness. The first tutor selected for
him was Dr. Francis Ayscough,[40] whose principal claim to distinction
was as brother-in-law to "good Lord Lyttelton," for at best he has been
described as a well-meaning but uninspired pedagogue, and at worst, by
Walpole, as "an insolent man, unwelcome to the clergy on suspicion of
heterodoxy, and of no fair reputation for integrity."[41] Ayscough, as a
courtier, was not unsuccessful, for, introduced by Lyttelton[42] and
Pitt to Frederick, Prince of Wales, he contrived to ingratiate himself
with that invertebrate royal personage; but as an instructor of youth he
was not the right man in the right place. He was ignorant of the course
to pursue in laying the foundation of a lad's education, and when George
was eleven years old, the Princess of Wales found to her dismay her son
could not read English, although (so Ayscough assured her) he could make
Latin verses. This latter accomplishment could not be accepted as of
sufficient importance to excuse ignorance of more practical subjects,
and a new preceptor, George Scott, was introduced on the recommendation
of Lord Bolingbroke, who, Walpole states significantly, "had lately seen
the Prince two or three times in private." This appointment marks the
beginning of the intrigues that centred round the young Prince.
[40] Francis Ayscough, afterwards Dean of Bristol (1700-1766). Clerk of
the Closet to Frederick, Prince of Wales, 1740.
[41] Walpole: _Memoirs of George II_.
[42] George Lyttelton (1709-1773), created Baron Lyttelton 1756.
Tempted by the promise of an earldom, in October, 1750, Lord North[43]
became Governor--"an amiable, worthy man," says Walpole, "of no great
genius, unless compared with his successor;" but this arrangement did
not long endure, for the Pelhams, finding themselves in power, thought
it behoved them to endeavour to retain it perpetually by surrounding the
future king with their creatures. Lord North retired in April, 1751,
and, when the post had been offered to and declined by Lord Hartington,
he was replaced by Lord Harcourt,[44] a Lord of the Bedchamber to the
King, a "civil and stupid" person who, though unfitted for the post by
his ignorance of most things save hunting and drinking, was thought
unlikely to interfere with the ministers' plans. The real agent of the
Pelhams was the sub-governor, Andrew Stone,[45] the Duke of Newcastle's
private secretary, "a dark, proud man, very able and very mercenary," in
high favour with George II. Scott remained as Sub-Preceptor, and with
him as Preceptor was now put Dr. Hayter, Bishop of Norwich,[46] a
sensible man of the world. Lord Sussex, Lord Robert Bertie, and Lord
Downe were appointed Lords, and Peachy, Digby and Schulze, Grooms of the
Bedchamber to the young Prince; while his Treasurer was Colonel John
Selwyn, who, dying in December, was succeeded by Cresset, the holder of
the same position in the Household of the Princess, now Dowager Princess
of Wales.
[43] Francis, third Baron North (1704-1790), created Earl of Guilford,
1753.
[44] Simon, first Earl Harcourt (1714-1777).
[45] Andrew Stone (1703-1773), sometime Under-Secretary of State.
[46] Thomas Hayter (1702-1762), Bishop of Norwich, 1749; Bishop of
London, 1761.
For a while there was peace in the tutors' camp, but soon dissension
broke out, and it became an open secret that Harcourt and Hayter were in
opposition to Stone and Scott. The quarrel began when Hayter found in
the Prince of Wales's hands a copy of Father d'Orleans's "_Revolution
d'Angleterre_," a work written at the instigation of James II of England
to justify his measures. Stone was taxed with having introduced it into
the royal apartments, when he denied ever having seen it in thirty
years, and expressed his willingness to stand or fall by the truth or
falseness of the accusation; but when Hayter showed a desire to take him
at his word, it was admitted that the Prince had the book, and the
defence set up was that Prince Edward had borrowed it of his sister
Augusta. Then other works not suitable for use in the training of a
constitutional monarch were, it is said, discovered to be in the
possession of the Prince; and though Stone and Scott aped humility and
regret, they contrived notwithstanding to irritate their superior
officers, until one day Hayter lost his temper, and removed Scott from
the royal chamber "by an imposition of hands, that had at least as much
of the flesh as the spirit in the force of the action."[47] When
matters came to this pass, Cresset took a hand in the quarrel, and
finally Murray[48] added fuel to the flame by telling the Bishop that
Stone should be shown more consideration. Hayter replied, "He believed
that Mr. Stone found all proper regard, but that Lord Harcourt, the
chief of the trust, was generally present;" to which Murray retorted,
"Lord Harcourt, pho! he is a cypher, and must be a cypher, and was put
in to be a cypher." That was the last straw. There are men who are
cyphers without knowing it, and men who know they are cyphers and do not
resent their unimportance, but there are few who can with impunity be
told that they are cyphers, and of these Harcourt was not one, for, with
all his faults, he was not the man to acquiesce in the use of himself as
a cat's-paw.
[47] Walpole: _Memoirs of George II_.
[48] William Murray, afterwards first Earl of Mansfield (1705-1763).
When the King returned in November, 1752, from Hanover, Harcourt
complained that dangerous and arbitrary principles were being instilled
into the Prince, and stated it was useless for him to remain as Governor
unless those who were misleading the lad were removed from their
official positions about his person. A few days after this protest was
registered, the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Lord Chancellor sent
word that by the King's command they would wait on Lord Harcourt for
further particulars of his grievance, but the latter declined to receive
them on the ground that, "His complaints were not proper to be told but
to the King himself." At a private interview with George II on December
6, Harcourt tendered his resignation, which was accepted; but a similar
concession was not granted to the Bishop of Norwich, whose resignation
the King preferred to receive through the medium of the Archbishop of
Canterbury.[49]
[49] Shortly after, Dr. Hayter's portrait was published, with these
lines beneath it:
"Not gentler virtues glow'd in Cambray's breast;
Not more his young Telemachus was bless'd,
Till envy, faction, and ambitious rage,
Drove from the Court the pious sage;
Back to his flock with transport he withdrew,
And but one sigh--an honest one--he knew,
'O guard my royal pupil, Heaven,' he said,
'Let not his youth be like my age betray'd;
I would have formed his footsteps in Thy way,
But vice prevails, and impious men have sway."
[Illustration: _From an old print_
AUGUSTA, PRINCESS DOWAGER OF WALES]
The position of the Governor and Preceptor had gradually become
untenable, for they were exposed to the cross-influences of the Princess
Dowager of Wales and the ministers, and, in their efforts to secure for
themselves the favour of their charge, they took no trouble to win
the good graces of the Princess or to live at peace with their
subordinates. "The Bishop, thinking himself already minister to the
future King, expected dependence from, never once thought of depending
upon, the inferior governors. In the education of the two Princes, he
was sincerely honest and zealous; and soon grew to thwart the Princess
whenever, as an indulgent, or perhaps a little as an ambitious mother
(and this happened but too frequently), she was willing to relax the
application of her sons. Lord Harcourt was minute and strict in trifles;
and thinking that he discharged his trust conscientiously if on no
account he neglected to make the Prince turn out his toes, he gave
himself little trouble to respect the Princess, or to condescend to the
Sub-governor."[50] To this testimony must be added that of Bubb
Dodington, who declared that Lord Harcourt not only behaved ill to the
Princess Dowager and spoke to the children of their dead father in a
manner most disrespectful, but also did all in his power to alienate
them from their mother. "George," he says, "had mentioned it once since
Lord Harcourt's departure, that he was afraid he had not behaved as well
to her sometimes as he ought, and wondered how he could be so
misled."[51] The Princess was therefore overjoyed to be rid of Lord
Harcourt, not only for these reasons, but for another that will
presently be discussed.
[50] Walpole: _Memoirs of George II_.
[51] Bubb Dodington: _Diary_.
Stone and Scott retained their posts, but it was not found easy to
replace the men who had resigned. Ministers desired to appoint as
Preceptor Dr. Johnson,[52] the new Bishop of Gloucester, but the Whigs
were so bitterly opposed to the nomination, and had the support of the
Archbishop's objections, that eventually Dr. Thomas[53] was given the
office. "It was still more difficult to accommodate themselves with a
Governor," Walpole has recorded. "The post was at once too exalted, and
they had declared it too unsubstantial, to leave it easy to find a man
who could fill the honour, and digest the dishonour of it."[54]
Overtures were made in several quarters but without success, until at
last, at the request of the King, Lord Waldegrave[55] consented to
accept the responsibility. This he did only after "repeated assurances
of the submission and tractability of Stone," and then with great
reluctance, for he was a man of pleasure rather than of affairs, and
reluctant to be embroiled in intrigue. "If I dared," he said to a
friend, "I would make this excuse to the King, 'Sir, I am too young to
govern, and too old to be governed.'" Even this appointment was censured
by the Whigs, for, though Waldegrave was a man of great common sense and
undoubted honour, it was objected that "his grandmother was a daughter
of King James; his family were all Papists, and his father had been but
the first convert"!
[52] James Johnson (1705-1774), Bishop of Gloucester, 1752; Bishop of
Worcester, 1759.
[53] John Thomas (1696-1781), successively Bishop of Peterborough
(1747), Salisbury (1757) and Winchester (1761).
[54] Walpole: _Memoirs of King George II_.
[55] James, second Earl Waldegrave (1715-1763), married Maria Walpole, a
natural daughter of Sir Edward Walpole by Mrs. Clement, a milliner. After
the death of her first husband the Countess secretly married on
September 6, 1766, William Henry, Duke of Gloucester, and the union was
publicly announced when the Royal Marriage Act was introduced into
Parliament.
The refusal of Lord Harcourt to discuss his complaints with any one but
the King was doubtless due to the fact that he traced the objectionable
doctrines taught to his pupil to Lord Bute.[56] In his earlier years
Bute had taken no part nor, indeed, shown any interest in politics. In
1723, at the age of twenty, he had succeeded to the earldom on the death
of his father; had married Mary, only daughter of Lady Mary Wortley
Montagu, and so came into possession of the Wortley estates; and, though
in 1737 elected representative peer of Scotland, had spent most of his
time on his estates, occupying himself with the theoretical and
practical study of agriculture and architecture.
[56] John Stuart, third Earl of Bute (1715-1792).
A great change in Bute's life was made in 1747 through a chance meeting
with Frederick, Prince of Wales. The Earl was then staying at Richmond,
and one day his neighbour, an apothecary, drove him over to Moulsey
Hurst to see a cricket match that had been organized by the Prince. It
came on to rain, the game had to be stopped, and Frederick retired to
his tent, proposing a rubber of whist to while away the time until the
weather should clear. Only two other players could be found, but some
one espied Bute in the carriage and, learning that he could play,
invited him to make up the table. The Prince, who had never before met
him, was charmed with his manners, and invited him to Kew. "How often do
great events arise from trifling causes," exclaims the worthy but
sententious Seward. "An apothecary keeping his carriage may have
occasioned the Peace of Paris, the American War, and the National
Assembly in France." Without going so far as that chronicler, it may be
said that the game of whist had far-reaching effects.
[Illustration: _From a print published 1754 for "Stowe's Survey"_
LEICESTER HOUSE]
Bute became a member of his patron's court,[57] where his influence
became a factor that could not be ignored. Nor did his power at
Leicester House wane after the death of the Prince, for he was high in
the Princess's favour, which latter good fortune was attributed not so
much to his intellectual attainments as to his personal qualities.
Scandal was busy coupling his name with that of the lady he served:
indeed, for years there was no caricature so popular with the public as
that of the Boot and the Petticoat, the symbols of the Peer and the
Princess. What truth there was in this charge, if, indeed, there was any
truth at all, is not, and probably never will be, known; but at the time
the intimacy was almost universally assumed. "It had already been
whispered that the assiduities of Lord Bute at Leicester House, and his
still more frequent attendance in the gardens at Kew and Carlton House,
were less addressed to the Prince of Wales than to his mother," says
Walpole. "The eagerness of the pages of the back-stairs to let her know
whenever Lord Bute arrived (and some other symptoms) contributed to
dispel the ideas that had been conceived of the rigour of her widowhood.
On the other hand, the favoured personage, naturally ostentatious of
his person, and of haughty carriage, seemed by no means desirous of
concealing his conquest. His bows grew more theatric; his graces
contracted some meaning; and the beauty of his leg was constantly
displayed in the eye of the poor captivated Princess.... When the late
Prince of Wales affected to retire into gloomy _allees_ with Lady
Middleton, he used to bid the Princess walk with Lord Bute. As soon as
the Prince was dead, they walked more and more, in honour of his
memory."[58] The same authority was on another occasion even more
explicit. "I am as much convinced of the amorous connexion between Bute
and the Princess Dowager as if I had seen them together," he said;[59]
and what he said was thought by the more reticent.
[57] He was appointed Lord of the Bedchamber to the Prince of Wales in
September, 1750.
[58] Walpole: _Memoirs of George II_.
[59] _Walpoliana._
Whether there was "amorous connexion" or not, Bute was the most detested
man of his day, and the more prominently he came before the public the
more violent was the abuse heaped upon him. "Bute was hated with a rage
of which there have been few examples in English history. He was the
butt for everybody's abuse; for Wilkes's devilish mischief; for
Churchill's slashing satire; for the hooting of the mob that roasted the
boot, his emblem, in a thousand bonfires; that hated him because he was
a favourite and a Scotchman, calling him 'Mortimer,' 'Lothario,' I know
not what names, and accusing his royal mistress of all sorts of
crimes--the grave, lean, demure, elderly woman, who, I daresay, was
quite as good as her neighbours."[60]
[60] Thackeray: _The Four Georges_.
In those days to be a Scotchman was alone enough to secure the cordial
ill-will of the English, for national rivalries had not then been even
partially eliminated; and it was said that Bute used his power to
promote his countrymen, which, though to-day it does not seem a very
heinous crime, was then regarded as a sin unequalled in horror by any
enumerated in the decalogue. An amusing defence of Bute against this
charge is made by Huish who, however, was certainly unconscious of the
humour of the passage. "The truth of this charge rests upon no solid
foundation. That Bute brought forward his countrymen is true enough, but
it was by extending to them the patronage of office, not, except in some
few instances, by directly introducing them to the personal favour of
the King."[61] One of these exceptions was Charles Jenkinson,[62] Bute's
private secretary, who, when his master had, ostensibly, at least,
retired from the direction of affairs, was the go between the King and
the ex-minister.
[61] Huish: _The Public and Private Life of George the Third_.
[62] Charles Jenkinson, afterwards first Earl of Liverpool (1727-1808),
the father of Robert, Lord Liverpool, some time Prime Minister.
"Lord Bute was my schoolfellow," says Walpole. "He was a man of taste
and science, and I do believe his intentions were good. He wished to
blend and unite all parties. The Tories were willing to come in for a
_share_ of power, after having been so long excluded--but the Whigs were
not willing to grant that share. Power is an intoxicating draught; the
more a man has, the more he desires."[63] The effects of power upon Bute
will soon appear. It was not, however, this man's power or his use or
abuse of it, but his qualities, that earned for him the hatred of his
equals. Lord Chesterfield wrote him down as "dry, unconciliatory, and
sullen, with a great mixture of pride. He never looked at those he spoke
to, or who spoke to him, a great fault in a minister, as in the general
opinion of mankind it implies conscious guilt; besides that it hinders
him from penetrating others.... He was too proud to be respectable or
respected; too cold and silent to be amiable; too cunning to have great
abilities; and his inexperience made him too precipitately what it
disabled him from executing."[64] Further, he showed little _savoir
faire_, for he chose as his subordinates, men who were incapable, or
those who, disgusted by him, were undesirous to help him, and, giving no
man his confidence, found himself severely handicapped consequently by
receiving none. Indeed, his arrogance on occasion angered even the
Prince of Wales, who quarrelled with him before the death of George II,
and on his accession employed him only after the severest pressure of
the Princess Dowager.[65] However, Bute soon regained his ascendency
over the young King.
[63] _Walpoliana._
[64] _The Letters of Philip Dormer Stanhope, Earl of Chesterfield._
[65] _Walpoliana._
One result of the intimacy between the Princess Dowager and Bute was
that the actual superintendence, and, indeed, control of the education
of the Prince of Wales was indirectly exercised by him. This was
particularly unfortunate because Bute was a disciple of Bolingbroke's
doctrine of absolute monarchy, and his "high prerogative prejudice and
Tory predilections," similar to those that caused the Revolution of
1688, were specially dangerous at a time when the new dynasty had not
long been firmly established; and it seemed that while at worst they
might lead to a conflict between the Crown and the people, at best they
would, when the Prince of Wales became King, make Bute a dictator. Even
so early as 1752 Waldegrave "found his Royal Highness full of princely
prejudices, contracted in the nursing, and improved by the society of
bed-chamber women, and the pages of the back-stairs,"[66] and he records
the endeavours to make him resign his Governorship so that the place
might be open for Bute.
[66] Waldegrave: _Memoirs_.
"A notion has prevailed," says Nicholls, "that the Earl of Bute had
suggested political opinions to the Princess Dowager, but this was
certainly a mistake. In understanding, the Princess Dowager was far
superior to the Earl of Bute; in whatever degree of favour he stood with
her, he did not suggest, but he received, her opinions and her
directions."[67] As a matter of fact, the Princess Dowager was a woman
of very sound understanding up to a certain point, but her training at
the Court of Saxe-Gotha, where the Duke was practically a despot,
unfitted her for the task of bringing up a future King of England.
Constitutional monarchy was beyond the range of her experience, and she
could never accept the doctrine in force in this country that, while a
sovereign may choose his ministers, having chosen them he should either
be guided by their advice or change them. "Be a King, George," she
preached to the heir-apparent; and in her eyes to be a king was to be
omnipotent.
[67] Nicholls: _Recollections and Reflections_.
Though well-meaning and shrewd enough, the Princess Dowager's outlook on
life was narrow; she had many prejudices, and in the light of these
planned the education of her children so far as it lay in her power. She
was so afraid lest George should be influenced by the vulgarity and
immorality of the Court, that she tied him to her apron-strings. "The
Prince of Wales lived shut up with his mother and Lord Bute; and must
have thrown them into some difficulties: their connexion was not easily
reconcilable to the devotion which they had infused into the Prince; the
Princess could not wish him always present, and yet dreaded him being
out of her sight. His brother Edward, who received a thousand
mortifications, was seldom suffered to be with him; and Lady Augusta,
now a woman, was, to facilitate some privacy for the Princess, dismissed
from supping with her mother, and sent back to cheese-cakes, with her
little sister Elizabeth, on pretence that meat at night would fatten her
too much."[68] The result of this treatment was not only that the
children were miserable, but that they were all too well aware of their
state of mind. When the Princess Dowager, struck one day by the silence
of one of her sons, asked if he were sulking, "I was thinking," the lad
replied, "what I should feel if I had a son as unhappy as you make me."
[68] Walpole: _Memoirs of George II_.
There were not wanting those who declared that in secluding the Prince
of Wales, and in keeping from him all knowledge of the world--that
knowledge, valuable to all, but essential to the making of a useful
King--the Princess Dowager had formed the project herself to exercise
the regal power that would one day be his; and that her policy was
approved by Lord Bute, who, also with an eye to the future, saw that his
influence over an ignorant monarch was likely to be much greater than
over one well acquainted with men and matters. "The plan of tutelage and
future dominion over the heir-apparent, laid many years ago at Carlton
House, between the Princess Dowager and her favourite, the Earl of Bute,
was as gross and palpable as that which was concerted between Anne of
Austria and Cardinal Mazarin, to govern Lewis the Fourteenth, and in
effect to prolong his minority until the end of their lives. That Prince
had strong natural parts, and used frequently to blush for his own
ignorance and want of education, which had been wilfully neglected by
his mother and her minion. A little experience, however, soon showed him
how shamefully he had been treated, and for what infamous purposes he
had been kept in ignorance. Our great Edward, too, at an early period,
had sense enough to understand the nature of the connexion between his
abandoned mother and the detested Mortimer. But since that time human
nature, we may observe, is greatly altered for the better. Dowagers may
be chaste, and minions may be honest. When it was proposed to settle the
present King's household as Prince of Wales, it is well known that the
Earl of Bute was forced into it in direct contradiction to the late
King's inclination. _That_ was the salient point from which all the
mischiefs and disgraces of the present reign took life and motion. From
that moment Lord Bute never suffered the Prince of Wales to be an
instant out of his sight. We need not look farther."[69]
[69] Junius: _Address to the King_.
But while the Princess Dowager and Lord Bute agreed apparently as to the
advantage of keeping the heir-apparent in a backward state, each
desiring the mastery, they differed on other points. "The Princess began
to perceive an alteration in the ardour of Lord Bute, which grew less
assiduous about her, and increased towards her son," Walpole noted in
1758. "The Earl had attained such an ascendency over the Prince, that he
became more remiss to the mother; and no doubt it was an easier
function to lead the understanding of a youth than to keep up to the
spirit required by an experienced woman. The Prince even dropped hints
against women interfering in politics. These clouds, however, did not
burst; and the creatures of the Princess vindicated her from any breach
with Lord Bute with as much earnestness as if their union had been to
her honour."[70]
[70] Walpole: _Memoirs of the Reign of George II_.
The Princess did not deny that the seclusion of her son had its
drawbacks. "She was highly sensible how necessary it was that the Prince
should keep company with men: she well knew that women could not inform
him, but if it was in her power absolutely, to whom could she entrust
him? What company could she wish him to keep? What friendships desire he
should contract? Such was the universal profligacy, such the character
and conduct of the young people of distinction, that she was really
afraid to have them near her children." However, the Princess Dowager
made little or no effort to provide suitable companions for George, and
the only youth with whom he was allowed to have even a restricted
intercourse was his brother, Edward.
[Illustration: _From a painting by H. Kysing_
GEORGE, PRINCE OF WALES]
Frederick, Prince of Wales, had not set his wife a good example by
showing much interest in his son, though when he was on his deathbed
he sent for the child. "Come, George," he said, "let us be good friends
while we may." Occasionally, however, he had gone with him to a concert
at the Foundling Hospital, or to see various processes of manufactures;
and now and then had taken him for a walk in the city at night--which
latter proceeding gave rise to a lampoon when in 1749 the little boy was
installed a Knight of the Garter,--the Earl of Inchiquin appearing as
his proxy.
"Now Frederick's a knight and George is a knight,
With stalls in Windsor Chapel,
We'll hope they'll prowl no more by night,
To look at garters black and white,
On legs of female rabble."
On the death of his father, George succeeded to the title of Electoral
Prince of Brunswick-Luenenburg, Duke of Edinburgh, Marquis of the Isle of
Ely, Earl of Eltham, Viscount of Launceston and Baron of Snowdon; and
the "Gazette" of April 11, 1751, announced that, "His Majesty had been
pleased to order Letters Patent to pass under the Great Seal of Great
Britain for creating his Royal Highness George William Frederick ...
Prince of Wales and Earl of Chester." George II at this time began to
show a personal interest in his successor, inviting him to St. James's,
taking him to Kew, even for a while removing him from Leicester House
and lodging him at Kensington. The King did not approve of his
daughter-in-law's method of bringing up her son, and, when visiting her
unexpectedly one day, heard she had taken the Princes to visit a
tapestry factory in which she was interested. "D----n dat tapestry," he
cried, "I shall have de Princes made women of." Calling again at
Leicester House the next day, he inquired: "Gone to de tapestry again?"
and, on being told the Princes were at home, commanded that they should
be sent to Hyde Park where he had "oder things to show dem dan needles
and dreads." The "oder things" was a review, and, Princess Augusta being
dressed to go out, her grandfather took her with him. "This circumstance
gave rise to some unpleasant altercation between the King and the
Princess Dowager of Wales; for, on the latter being informed of the
expressions which his Majesty had used regarding her visit to the
tapestry manufactory, she retorted upon his Majesty by declaring if he
thought the view of a manufactory was beneath the attentions of her
sons, she considered the sight of a review to be attended with no
benefit to her daughter."[71]
[71] Huish: _Public and Private Life of George III_.
The Princess Dowager's retort to the King in this case was typical of
her character, for she was a strong-minded, fearless woman, and not
lightly to be brow-beaten or opposed.[72] On the whole, however, George
II and his daughter-in-law were not on unfriendly terms since, after the
death of her husband, she had thrown herself upon his protection. "The
King and she both took their parts at once," Walpole noted; "she of
flinging herself entirely into his hands and studying nothing but his
pleasure, but with wondering what interest she got with him to the
advantage of her son and the Prince's friends; the King of acting the
tender grandfather, which he, who had never acted the tender father,
grew so pleased with representing, that he soon became it in earnest."
This was made clear when the question arose of appointing a regent in
case of the sovereign's death before his successor was of age, for the
King advocated her right to be selected for that exalted position in a
Royal Message to the Houses of Parliament:
"That nothing could conduce so much to the preservation of the
Protestant succession in his royal family as proper provision for the
tuition of the person of his successor, and for the regular
administration of the government, in case the successor should be of
tender years: his Majesty, therefore, earnestly recommended this weighty
affair to the deliberation of Parliament and proposed that when the
imperial crown of these realms should descend to any of the late
Prince's sons, being under the age of eighteen years, his mother, the
Princess Dowager of Wales, should be guardian of his person, and Regent
of these kingdoms, until he should attain the age of majority; with such
powers and limitations as should appear necessary and expedient for
these purposes."
[72] "The Princess Dowager was a woman of strong mind. When she was very
ill, she would order her carriage, and drive about the streets, to show
she was alive. The King and Queen used to go and see her every evening
at eight o'clock; but when she got worse they went at seven, pretending
they mistook the hour. The night before her death they were with her
from seven to nine. She kept up the conversation as usual, went to bed,
and was found dead in the morning. She died [on February 8, 1772] of the
evil, which quite consumed her."--_Walpoliana._
A Bill embodying these recommendations was accordingly introduced by the
Duke of Newcastle into the House of Lords, when the King sent a second
Message proposing that such a council to assist the Regent as
the Bill advised should consist of the Duke of Cumberland, then
Commander-in-Chief, the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Lord Chancellor,
the Lord High Treasurer, or First Lord Commissioner of the Treasury, the
President of the Council, the Lord Privy Seal, the Lord High Admiral of
Great Britain, or First Commissioner of the Admiralty, the two principal
Secretaries of State, and the Lord Chief Justice of the King's
Bench--all those great officers except, of course, the Duke of
Cumberland, for the time being.
This aroused the bitterest opposition, and many members dwelt on the
danger of leaving in command of a large standing army a prince of the
blood, who was the only permanent member of the Council as well as the
uncle of the minor, and the names of all the wicked uncles in history,
John Lackland, Humphrey of Gloucester, and the rest were freely
introduced into the discussion. William Augustus Duke of Cumberland, was
indeed a deeply hated man, and the astonishing popularity of his elder
brother, Frederick, was perhaps due more to the fact that he stood
between William and the throne than to any other reason. Indeed, when
Frederick died, in many cases the lament was phrased "Would that it had
been his brother!" "Would that it had been 'the butcher!'" and Walpole
is careful to mention that the nickname was not given in the sense it
was formerly: "_Le boucher etoit anciennement un surnom glorieux qu'on
donnoit a un general apres une victoire, en reconnoissance du carnage
qu'il avoit fait de trente ou quarante mille hommes._"[73] Yet, "there
never was a prince so popular, so winning in his ways, as William of
Cumberland during his minority," says Dr. Doran, who adds that "_the_
Duke," as he was called, was "gentlemanlike without affectations,
accomplished without being vain of his accomplishments."[74] He had
courage in plenty, and distinguished himself at Dettingen and Culloden,
but his severities after the latter battle secured him the undesirable
nickname that clung to him for life--in his defence it may be offered
that this same harshness might well have earned for him the gratitude of
those who hated civil war, for it scotched further rebellion and made
his father's throne secure. He had hoped to be appointed regent,
although Walpole tells us "the consternation that spread on the
apprehensions that the Duke would be regent on the King's death, and
have the sole power in the meantime, was near as strong as what was
occasioned by the notice of the rebels being at Derby."[75] None the
less, when the Lord Chancellor was sent to inform him that his hope
would not be realized, the Duke bore the blow well, and said, "I return
my duty and thanks to the King for the communication of the plan of
regency; while, for the post allotted to me, I would submit to it,
because he commands it, be that regency what it will." He felt
resentful, however, wished "the name of William could be blotted out of
the English annals," and declared he now felt his insignificance, "when
even Mr. Pelham would dare to use him thus." The opposition to the
inclusion of his name even on the council to assist the regent gave him
pain; but he was much more deeply wounded when, the young Prince of
Wales calling upon him, to amuse his visitor he took down a sword and
drew it, and noticed that the lad turned pale and trembled. "What must
they have told him about me," he wondered, and in no measured terms
complained to the Princess of Wales of the impression that had been
instilled into his nephew.
[73] De Saintfoix: _Essais Histor. sur Paris_.
[74] Doran: _History of the Queens of England of the House of Hanover_.
[75] _Memoirs of George III_.
CHAPTER III
THE PRINCE COMES OF AGE
"The boy is good for nothing but to read the Bible to his mother,"
George II said one day of his grandson; and he sought for measures that
should emancipate the young man and tend to enlarge his knowledge of the
world. His first attempt in this direction, made in 1755 when he was in
Hanover, fluttered the dovecots of Leicester House, for the rumour flew
that the King was about to propose a marriage between the Prince of
Wales and a princess of the House of Brunswick. "Surely the King would
not marry my son without acquainting me with it, so much as by letter,"
said the Princess Dowager. "If the King should settle the match without
acquainting me, I should let him know how ill I take it, and I shall not
fail to tell him fairly and plainly it is full early." The report proved
to be not unfounded. At a German watering-place, George II had met the
Duchess of Brunswick with her two daughters, and had been so charmed
with the elder, Sophia,[76] that he declared if he had been twenty
years younger he would have married her himself.
[76] Princess Sophia Caroline Maria, elder daughter of the Duke of
Brunswick-Wolfenbuettel, who married the Margrave of Bayreuth in 1759.
[Illustration: _From a portrait by T. Frye_
GEORGE III]
When the King's wish became known to the Princess Dowager, she
determined by every means in her power to thwart it, and as a first step
told her son that his grandfather's only motive in proposing the
marriage was to advance the interest of Hanover. "The suddenness of the
measure, and the little time left for preventing it, at once unhinged
all the circumspection and prudence of the Princess. From the death of
the Prince, her object had been the government of her son; and her
attention had answered. She had taught him great devotion, and she had
taken care he should be taught nothing else. There was no reason to
apprehend from his own genius that he would escape her, but bigoted, and
young, and chaste, what empire might not a youthful bride (and the
Princess of Brunswick was reckoned artful) assume over him? The Princess
thought that prudence now would be most imprudent. She immediately
instilled into her son the greatest aversion to the match: he protested
against it."[77] Every artifice was employed by the Princess Dowager and
Bute to prejudice the Prince of Wales against Princess Sophia, her
personal attractions were depreciated, and she was represented as the
last person in the world likely to render the married state acceptable,
while on the other hand, "the charms, the mental qualifications, the
superior endowments, and the fascinating manners of a princess of a
house of Saxe-Gotha were the constant theme of panegyric, the diamond
could not surpass her eye in brilliancy, nor the snow the whiteness of
her skin." These descriptions fired even the Prince, who refused the
King's nominee, and made formal demands for a portrait of the Saxe-Gotha
beauty--a request that in royal circles is usually the first step
towards an alliance. Of course his grandson's action became known to the
King, who would not entertain the idea of his successor's union with a
princess of the Saxe-Gotha blood, which was notorious for a
constitutional malady. "I know enough of that family already," he said,
and no arguments could move him.
[77] Walpole: _Memoirs of George II_.
This, of course, put an end to the negotiations, but the Prince of
Wales, incensed, it was said, by the affront to his mother's family,
replied by refusing even to discuss any other alliance. "In vain his
Majesty importuned him; in vain the most serious and plausible
representations were made to him of the necessity of his marriage as an
act of state policy; in vain were all the arguments adduced which had
been so satisfactorily employed in the discussion of the Regency Bill,
concerning the danger which impends over the country, when the monarch
or the heir-apparent to the throne marries at a late period of his life,
thereby giving rise to the probability of a long minority: in vain the
character of the patriot prince was exposed to him, who ought to
sacrifice his private feelings to the welfare of the state. To all these
powerful and cogent reasons he granted a willing and respectful ear, and
an hour's private conversation with his mother effaced every impression
which they had made."[78]
[78] Huish: _The Public and Private Life of George III_.
When the King's project for the marriage of his successor fell through,
the ministers made an effort on their own account to withdraw the Prince
of Wales from the maternal influence, being thereto incited by the fact
that a bid for the young man's sympathies were being made by the
Opposition and that at his informal _levees_ Pitt, Lord Temple,[79] and
the Grenvilles[80] were frequently in attendance. The Duke of
Newcastle[81] and Lord Hardwicke[82], who also desired the favour of the
future sovereign, took alarm, and endeavoured, with a single diplomatic
stroke, to checkmate Pitt and his friends and separate mother and son.
Lord Waldegrave was sent by the King, at the instance of the ministers,
to state that now the Prince of Wales had attained the year of royal
majority, his Majesty would allow him L40,000 a year, and had given
orders to prepare for him Frederick's apartments at Kensington and those
of the late Queen at Kew. Upon receipt of this message a secret conclave
was held at Leicester House, and, as a result, the Prince sent a reply,
probably drawn up by Legge, that he would gratefully accept the
allowance, but preferred not to leave his mother.
[79] Richard Temple Grenville, afterwards Grenville-Temple (1711-1799)
on the death of his mother in 1752 succeeded to the earldom of Temple.
[80] Lord Temple's younger brothers, George Grenville (1712-1770),
sometime Prime Minister; James Grenville (died 1783). Their sister,
Hester, married William Pitt, afterwards first Earl of Chatham.
[81] Thomas Pelham-Holles, first Duke of Newcastle-upon-Tyne
(1693-1768).
[82] Philip Yorke (1690-1764), created Baron Hardwicke 1773; Lord
Chancellor 1737; created Earl of Hardwicke 1754.
As the latter proposal had not been made a condition of the grant,
ministers were non-plussed. "Was the gift to be revoked, because the
Prince had natural affection? Was the whole message to be carried into
execution, and a young man, of age by Act of Parliament, to be taken by
force, and detained a prisoner in the palace? What law would justify
such violence? Who would be the agents of such violence? His Majesty
himself and the late Prince of Wales had furnished the Prince with
precedents of mutinying against the crown with impunity. How little the
ministers, who had planned the first step, knew what to advise for the
second, was plain, from their giving no further advice for about a
month, and from the advice which they did give then, and from the
perplexity in which they remained for two months more, and from the
ignominious result of the whole transaction, both to the King and to
themselves at last."[83]
[83] Walpole: _Memoirs of George II_.
The King's offer had been made at the end of May or the beginning of
June, 1756, and the Prince of Wales, acting under his mother's
instructions, had followed up his second victory by carrying the war
into the enemy's camp, and expressing a desire that Lord Bute should be
appointed his Groom of the Stole. In July a second message in the King's
name was sent to the heir-apparent to inquire if he still adhered to his
desire to remain with his mother and to the demand for the appointment
of Lord Bute. This, intended as a warning or threat, failed of its
intended effect, for the Prince replied: "That since the King did him
the honour to ask him the question, he did hope to have leave to
continue with his mother, as her happiness so much depended on it--for
the other point, he had _never directly_ asked it--yet, since
encouraged, he would explain himself; and from the long knowledge and
good opinion he had of Lord Bute, he did desire to have him about his
person."
After this, there was nothing for it but surrender on the part of the
ministers, who could not but admit to themselves that they had played
the game and lost it. Lord Waldegrave was relieved from the post of
Governor, much to his pleasure, for he had found his servitude
uncongenial; and to the delight of the Princess Dowager, who had
unreasonably regarded him as a spy, and also of the Prince of Wales, who
had no liking for him, and subsequently denounced him as "a depraved,
worthless man, well-intentioned, but wholly unfit for the situation in
which he was placed." The King accepted Lord Waldegrave's resignation
with regret; and consented to bestow the gold key on Lord Bute only with
great reluctance--indeed, so strong was his feeling in the matter that
he refused to give the insignia of office himself as was usual, and sent
it by the Duke of Grafton, who slipped it into the pocket of the
recipient, and advised him to show no offence.
Bute kissed hands as Groom of the Stole in October, at the same time as
the other members of the Prince of Wales's new establishment, in which
Lord Huntingdon was Master of the Horse, Lord Euston, Lord Pembroke, and
Lord Digby, Lords of the Bedchamber; Lord Bathurst, treasurer; Hon. S.
Masham, Auditor; and Hon. James Brudenel, Master of the Robes. Andrew
Stone was appointed Secretary, and his first duty was to carry out his
master's wish that George Scott should not be retained in the Household.
"The reason given for his exclusion was, his having talked with contempt
of the Prince's understanding, and with freedom of the Princess's
conduct. The truth was, Scott was a frank man, of no courtly depth, and
had indiscreetly disputed with Lord Bute, who affected a character of
learning."[84] This prejudice was unfortunate, for, according to Rose,
Scott, though no courtier, was the sort of man who should have been kept
by George about his person. "I never knew a man more entirely blameless
in all the relations of life; amiable, honourable, temperate, and one of
the sweetest dispositions I ever knew."[85] But he was too clear-sighted
to be a welcome person in court circles and his lack of deference to
the fetish set up by the Princess Dowager was in her eyes unpardonable.
[84] Walpole: _Memoirs of George II_.
[85] Rose: _Diary_. Scott was subsequently appointed a Commissioner of
Excise.
From the appointment of his Household in 1856 so uneventful was the life
of the Prince of Wales that there is nothing to record of the years
intervening until he ascended the throne, to which he was called
suddenly. On October 25, 1760, George II rose at the usual hour,
seemingly in good health; but, as the page left the room after
breakfast, he heard a noise, and found the King had fallen from his
chair to the floor. "Call Amelia," said the monarch; and instantly
expired.
[Illustration:
_Photo by Emery Walker_
_Portrait by Allan Ramsay_
GEORGE III IN HIS CORONATION ROBES]
CHAPTER IV
THE NEW KING
The King is dead! Long live the King!
George II has given place to George III, and those who had prostrated
themselves before the former were now anxious to pay court to his
successor. Yet those who had at heart the welfare of their country
trembled at the thought that the throne, with all the influence
appertaining thereto, had passed to an ignorant, narrow-minded lad; and
reviewing the young king's training, and his mediocre gifts, it must be
admitted that the fear was not unreasonable.
The Princess Dowager's plan of isolating the Prince of Wales from
companions of his own age, while it had kept him from evil counsellors,
had resulted only too obviously in making him a very dull young man. His
mother admitted he was "shy and backward; not a wild dissipated boy, but
good-natured and cheerful, with a serious cast upon the whole;"[86] and
unfortunately the mode of life imposed upon him during his minority
tended to develop that serious cast at the expense of other qualities.
Bubb Dodington, a keen observer, noticed this trait so early as 1752,
and asked the Princess Dowager what she thought the real disposition of
the Prince to be. "She said that I knew him almost as well as she did;
that he was very honest, but she wished that he was a little more
forward, and less childish at his age: that she hoped his preceptors
would improve him. I begged to know what methods they took; what they
read to him, or made him read; and whether he showed any particular
inclination to any of the people about him. She said she did not well
know what they taught him; but, to speak freely, she was afraid not
much: that they were in the country and followed their diversions, and
not much else that she could discover: that we must hope it would be
better when we came to town. I said that I did not much regard books,
that what I the most wished was that his Royal Highness should begin to
learn the usages and knowledge of the world; be informed of the general
frame and nature of this government and constitution, and of the general
course and manner of business, without descending into minutias."[87]
[86] Bubb Dodington: _Diary_.
[87] Bubb Dodington: _Diary_.
The young Prince of Wales's amusements had been few. He was sometimes
permitted to play a round card game, called Comet, with his mother and
brothers and sisters; and the Princess Dowager showed more liberality of
mind than was usual with her by declaring that "she liked the Prince
should now and then amuse himself at small play, but that princes should
never play deep, both for the example and because it did not become them
to win great sums."[88] A greater delight of the Prince was to take part
in amateur theatricals, an indulgence sometimes granted as the practice
might accustom him to the public speaking that must later fall to his
lot. This was of great value to him for, while in conversation his
utterance was rapid, on public occasions he spoke so distinctly and with
such dignity that Quin, hearing his first Speech from the throne,
exclaimed delightedly: "Ay! 'twas I that taught the boy to speak!" But
George was not fond of delivering or listening to orations. "I am sure
that the rage for public speaking, and the extravagant length to which
some of our more popular orators carry their harangues in Parliament, is
very detrimental to the national business," he expressed his opinion
after he ascended the throne, "and I wish that it may not, in the end,
prove injurious to the public peace."[89]
[88] Bubb Dodington: _Diary_.
[89] Galt: _George III, his Court and Family_.
In spite of these occasional relaxations, the family circle at Leicester
House was far from bright, and Dodington has recorded how in November,
1753, he was summoned to wait upon the Princess Dowager, and how,
instead of the small party and a little music he expected, he found no
one but her Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales, Prince Edward and
Princess Augusta, all in undress. They sat round the fire, and Dodington
and the Princess talked of familiar occurrences "with the ease and
unreservedness and unconstraint, as if one had dropped into a sister's
house that had a family, to pass the evening," but agreeable as it was
to Dodington, he could not refrain from wishing, "that the Princess
conversed familiarly with more people of a certain knowledge of the
world."[90] But even Dodington seldom saw the Prince of Wales, and,
though George II showed no disposition to keep his successor in the
background, the latter spent much of his time in, perhaps not entirely
voluntary, retirement at Kew, where his mother was making "a collection
of exotic plants, the precursor of the present Royal Botanical Gardens,
on a scale of liberal munificence, besides continuing to erect, under
the superintendence of Sir William Chambers, the various ornamental
gardens, originally planned by the deceased Prince."[91] Horticulture
had little charm for the Prince of Wales, who was, however, attracted by
agricultural science, and took an active interest in the farming of his
land, tastes which subsequently he endeavoured in vain to inculcate in
his sons, and secured for him the nickname that still clings to him.[92]
[90] Bubb Dodington: _Diary_.
[91] Galt: _George III, his Court and Family_.
[92] According to John Galt, George III wrote several letters signed
Ralph Robinson and dated from Windsor, to Arthur Young for the latter's
_Annals of Agriculture_.
[Illustration: _From the Oxford Magazine_
THE BUTTON MAKER]
George found some pleasure in trifling mechanical occupations, and had a
watch made from his own designs by Arnold, of which a description is
extant. "It was rather less than a silver twopence, yet contained one
hundred and twenty different parts: the whole weighed between five and
six pennyweights." Later in life he amused himself in turning on the
lathe, and it was declared by the satirists that the royal ingenuity
eventually went so far as to construct a button. Certainly for a long
time he figured in caricature as "the royal button-maker"; and it was in
this capacity an anonymous versifier congratulated him upon the success
of his army in America.
"Then shall my lofty numbers tell
Who taught the royal babes to spell
And sovereign art pursue
To mend a watch, or set a clock,
New pattern shape for Hervey's frock,
Or buttons made at Kew."[93]
[93] _The New Foundling Hospital for Wit._
George III as Prince of Wales saw nothing of the outside world, and even
when in 1759 he was allowed to make an excursion beyond the limits
usually imposed upon him, it took the form of a private trip through
Scotland, when, preserving the strictest _incognito_, he paid visits to
Edinburgh, Glasgow, the Isle of Bute and a few other places, accompanied
only by Lord Bute and two servants.
It may here be remarked that no English king travelled less than George
III, who during the whole of his long life rarely visited any part of
his dominions.
"Our sons some slave of greatness may behold,
Cast in the genuine Asiatic mould,
Who of three realms shall condescend to know
No more than he can spy from Windsor's brow."[94]
[94] _Heroic Epistle to Sir William Chambers._
He never went to Hanover or Scotland or Ireland or Wales, and in England
his longest journeys were to Cheltenham, Weymouth, and Portsmouth,
which latter town he visited twice, but solely to make an official
inspection of a battleship.
"There shall he see, as other folks have seen,
That ships have anchors, and that seas are green;
Shall count the tackling trim, the streamers fine,
With Bradshaw prattle, and with Sandwich dine;
And then row back, amidst the cannon's roar,
As safe, as sage, as when he left the shore."[95]
[95] _Heroic Epistle to Sir William Chambers._
"To tell you the honest truth," Ernest, King of Hanover, said in 1845;
"the impression on my mind has ever been that it was a very unfortunate
circumstance for my father that he was kept as it were, aloof, not only
from his brothers, but almost from all young men of his own age; and
this I saw evident marks of almost daily."[96] Indeed, the unhappy
relations of George III with his sons must in great part be attributed
to the isolation of the King's early years: never having been permitted
to indulge in the pleasures of youth, he could in later years make no
allowance for such follies in others. It comes as a relief to find that
George III when Prince of Wales did commit one stupid, boyish prank:
when a tutor reproved him and told him he must stick closer to his work,
he put pitch on the tutor's chair, thus making the pedagogue stick
closer to his seat.
[96] "Secluded from the world, attached from his infancy to one set of
persons and one set of ideas, he can neither open his heart to new
connexions, nor his mind to better information. A character of this sort
is the soil fittest to produce that obstinate bigotry in politics and
religion which begins with a meritorious sacrifice of the understanding,
and finally conducts the monarch and the martyr to the block."--Junius,
May 28, 1770.
Some lads who, from one cause or another, see little society, derive
knowledge of the world from books, but George was not one of these. He
did not learn easily, and he had not been helped by an extensive or
thorough education. His knowledge of Latin or Greek was negligible, and
Huish's statement that at an early age the Prince "correctly understood
the history of modern times and the just relations of England with the
other states" makes too great a strain upon our credulity. It is true
that in support of his view Huish prints a list of titles of plays that
the Prince is said to have selected to show the condition of various
states and persons; but though, as a matter of fact this has little to
recommend it as an intellectual exercise, it is unlikely the youth
performed even this task without assistance.[97] It may be conceded,
however, that he read with more or less understanding the history of
England, France and Germany; and that he could speak the language of
these countries with fluency. He wrote English with little show of
acquaintance with grammar and never could spell correctly, while his
general knowledge was lamentably slight, and in spite of fulsome
biographers, books never had any attraction for him. "He never delighted
in study, nor ever passed much of his time in sedentary occupations,
calculated to improve his mind, after his accession to the crown,"
Wraxall admits frankly. "A newspaper which he commonly took up after
dinner, and over which, however interesting its contents might be, he
usually fell asleep in less than half-an-hour, constituted the ordinary
extent of his application."[98] He was in truth a dull lad, and
Thackeray was probably right in his belief that "the cleverest tutors in
the world could have done little probably to expand that small
intellect, though they might have improved his taste and taught his
perceptions some generosity."[99]
[97] Russia, _The Maiden Queen_; Germany, _The Rivals_; Genoa, _All's
Well that Ends Well_; Spain, _The Ambitious Stepmother_; Prussia, _The
Inconstant, or, The Way to Win Him_; France, _The Busy-Body, Rather the
Way of the World_; Sweden, _She Would if She Could_; Denmark, _As You
Like It_; The Dutch, _The Medley; or, Nature Will Prevail_; Flanders,
_How Happy Could She Be With Either_; King of Sardinia, _The Spartan
Hero_; Stanislaus, _An Old Man Taught Wisdom_; Don Philip, _Much Ado
About Nothing_; The Young Pretender, _A Midsummer Night's Dream_.
[98] _Recollections and Reflections._
[99] _The Four Georges._
Yet those who expected the worst from the new King were pleasurably
disappointed, for, though he never became a great monarch, he developed
unsuspected good qualities. In earlier days his indolence had brought
upon him a severe reproof from George Scott, who, when his Royal
Highness excused his own want of application on the score of idleness,
said, cruelly perhaps, but certainly with truth: "Sir, _yours_ is not
idleness; your brother Edward is _idle_, but you must not call being
asleep all day being idle." On his accession to the throne, George III
became suddenly industrious, at once endeavoured to understand public
business, and showed himself willing to learn. Indeed, he had always
been desirous to improve his mind, and it has been told how when he and
Prince Edward once went by water to Woolwich he did not make a _gala_
day of it, as his brother did, and as most other boys would have, "but
paid a marked attention to everything useful and curious, taking a view
of the several works in the dockyard, seeing the manner of forging an
anchor, or making sails, etc."[100]
[100] Galt: _George III, his Court and Family_.
More remarkable than his devotion to business was the aptitude the young
man, ignorant of affairs, soon showed for King-craft, and all were
astonished to find that, after he had become accustomed to his position,
he not only made efforts to induce ministers to carry out his views, but
actually found means usually to compel them to do so. Unfortunately he
started in life with the rooted idea that those who agreed with him were
right, and those who differed wrong. "He will seldom do wrong, except
when he mistakes wrong for right," prophesied Lord Waldegrave; "but as
often as this shall happen, it will be difficult to undeceive him,
because he has strong prejudices."[101] How true this was will presently
appear. It was a misfortune, too, that what intelligence he possessed,
not sufficient to enable him to see two sides to a question, made him
suspicious of all who rose above mediocrity. Fox, father and son, he
hated, and he declared once that Sheridan ought to be hanged, while he
could rarely find a good word for Chatham, Burke, and the other men of
commanding talent with whom perforce he was brought into contact. It was
his liking for nonentities that Peter Pindar[102] pilloried, in words
attributed to Sir Joseph Banks:[103]
"To circles of pure ignorance conduct me;
I hate the company that can _instruct_ me;
I wish to imitate my King, so _nice_,
Great prince, who ne'er was known to take advice!
Who keeps no company (delightful plan!)
That dares be wiser than himself, good man!"[104]
[101] Waldegrave: _Memoirs_.
[102] John Wolcot, satirist and poet (1738-1819), wrote under the
pseudonym of "Peter Pindar."
[103] Sir Joseph Banks (1743-1820), president of the Royal Society,
1778-1820.
[104] _Peter's Prophecy._
Whatever forebodings may have been entertained by those behind the
scenes, George III was at his succession very popular, and whenever he
showed himself in public was heartily greeted by his loyal subjects.
"The new reign dates with great propriety and decency, the civilest
letter to Princess Emily; the greatest kindness to the Duke; the utmost
respect to the dead body," Walpole wrote. "No changes to be made but
those absolutely necessary, as the household, etc.--and, what some will
think the most unnecessary, in the representative of power. There is
great dignity and grace in the King's manner. I don't say this like my
dear Madame de Sevigne, because he was civil to _me_, but the part is
well acted. The young King has all the appearance of being amiable.
There is great grace to temper much dignity and good nature which
breaks out on all occasions." Nicholls expressed his opinion that the
monarch was "of a good person, sober, temperate, of domestic habits,
addicted to no vice, swayed by no passion";[105] while Mary Lepel, Lady
Hervey, was outspoken in his favour. "Every one, I think, seems to be
pleased with the whole behaviour of our young King; and indeed so much
unaffected good nature and propriety appears in all he does or says,
that it cannot but endear him to all; but whether anything can long
endear a King or an angel in this strange factious country, I can't
tell. I have the best opinion imaginable of him, not from anything he
does or says just now, but because I have a moral certainty that he was
in his nursery the honestest, true, good-natured child that ever lived,
and you know my old maxim that qualities never change; what the child
was, the man most certainly is, in spite of temporary appearances."[106]
Whitehead, of course, salvoed his joy in rhyme.
"And who is he, of regal mien,
Reclined on Albion's golden fleece,
Whose polished brow, and eye serene,
Proclaim him elder-born of peace?
Another George! ye winds convey
Th' auspicious name from pole to pole:
Thames, catch the sound and tell the subject sea
Beneath whose sway its waters roll,
The heavy monarch of the deep
Who soothe's its murmurs with a father's care,
Doth now eternal Sabbath keep,
And leaves his trident to his blooming heir,
O, if the Muse, aright divine,
Fair Peace shall bless his opening reign,
And through the splendid progress shine
With every art to grace her train,
The wreaths, so late by glory won,
Shall weave their foliage round his throne,
'Till Kings abashed shall tremble to be foes,
And Albion's dreaded strength secure the world's repose."
[105] Nicholls: _Recollections and Reflections_.
[106] _Letters of Mary Lepel, Lady Hervey._
Yet there were other observers who could see the reverse side of the
shield. Old Samuel Johnson thought the pleasure manifested at the
accession of George III, "of whom we are so much inclined to hope great
things that most of them begin already to believe them," was due in
great part to the fact that "we were so weary of our old King." He was,
moreover, not very enthusiastic at the prospect. "The young man is
hitherto blameless, but it would be unreasonable to expect much from the
immaturity of juvenile years and the ignorance of princely education. He
has long been in the hands of the Scots, and has already favoured them
more than the English will contentedly endure. But, perhaps, he
scarcely knows whom he has distinguished, or whom he has disgusted."
Lord Chesterfield declared that the King, "like a new Sultan, was lugged
out of the seraglio by the Princess and Lord Bute, and placed upon the
throne";[107] Mr. Attorney General Pratt,[108] within four months of the
accession, could "see already that this will be a weak and inglorious
reign"; while Charles Townshend, asked what was the young King's
character, summed it up, "He is very obstinate."[109]
[107] _Letters of Philip Dormer Stanhope, Earl of Chesterfield._
[108] Sir Charles Pratt, first Earl Camden (1714-1794).
[109] Nicholls: _Recollections and Reflections_.
CHAPTER V
"THE FAIR QUAKER"
Stolid, unimaginative, and slow of thought, that Prince of Wales, who
was afterwards George III, is one of the last persons in the world to be
suspected of a love intrigue. Yet, by some strange irony, he has been
generally accepted as the hero of an _affaire-de-coeur_ in his youthful
days, and this is not the less remarkable because, so far as is known,
belief has been induced only by persistent rumour. No direct evidence,
personal or documentary, has ever been brought forward in support of the
story; and there is no mention of it in the memoirs of George's
contemporaries: even Horace Walpole, who referred to George as "chaste,"
never mentioned it, and it is inconceivable that that arrant
scandal-monger could have been acquainted with such a tit-bit of court
gossip and have refrained from retailing it. None the less there is a
marked reluctance to dismiss as baseless the alleged connexion between
George and Hannah Lightfoot, for, on the principle that there is no
smoke without fire, it seems extremely unlikely that the story can
have become so generally accepted unless it had at least some foundation
of truth.
[Illustration:
_By permission of Messrs. Henry Graves & Co., Ltd._
_From the portrait by Sir Joshua Reynolds_
MISS AXFORD
(_supposed to be a portrait of Hannah Lightfoot_)]
Mr. Thoms, who many years ago made an exhaustive study of the
subject[110], states that the first mention of it in print was to be
found in a letter to the editor of "The Monthly Magazine, or British
Register" for April, 1821, that is, after the death of George III; and
this, coupled with the absence of any reference to the story in the
memoirs of the day, threw very grave doubt on the authenticity of the
alleged romance. Since the appearance of Mr. Thom's _brochure_, however,
this particular reason for scepticism has been removed, for earlier
allusions have been discovered. "The Citizen" for Saturday, February 24,
1776, contains the following advertisement:--"_Court Fragments_. Which
will be published by 'The Citizen' for the Use, Instruction and
Amusement of Royal Infants and young promising Noblemen. 1. The history
and adventures of Miss L-hf--t, the Fair Quaker; wherein will be
faithfully portrayed some striking pictures of female constancy and
princely gratitude, which terminated in the untimely death of that lady,
and the sudden death of a disconsolate mother." The next recorded
reference is in the "Royal Register" for 1779, when the matter is
referred to as one familiar to most persons. "It is not believed even at
this time, by many people who live in the world, that he [King George]
had a mistress previous to his marriage. Such a circumstance was
reported by many, believed by some, disputed by others, but proved by
none; and with such a suitable caution was this intrigue conducted that
if the body of the people called Quakers, of which this young lady in
question was a member, had not divulged the fact by the public
proceedings of their meeting concerning it, it would in all probability
have remained a matter of doubt to this day."
[110] William J. Thoms: _Hannah Lightfoot, Queen Charlotte and the
Chevalier D'Eon. Dr. Wilmot's Polish Princess. Reprinted with some
additions, from "Notes and Queries," 1867._
Robert Huish, who wrote a life of George III, that, published in 1821,
must have been in part, at least, written during the monarch's life, was
also acquainted with the legend, for, though he does not mention the
girl's name, he makes a very obvious allusion to Hannah Lightfoot. He
states that after the Prince of Wales, at his mother's express desire,
declined to entertain George II's proposal for him to marry Princess
Sophia of Brunswick and stated he would wed only a Princess of the House
of Saxe-Gotha, his thoughts turned to love. "The Prince, though
surrounded with all the emblems of royalty, and invested with sovereign
authority, was nevertheless but a man, subject to all the frailties of
his nature, impelled by the powerful tide of passion," writes Huish in
his grandiloquent fashion; and, after some extravagantly phrased remarks
on the temptations that surround an heir-apparent, continues, "His
affections became enchained; he looked no more to Saxe-Gotha nor to
Brunswick for an object on which to lavish his love; he found one in the
secret recesses of Hampton, whither he often repaired, concealed by the
protecting shades of night, and there he experienced, what seldom falls
to the lot of princes, the bliss of the purest love. The object of his
affections became a mother, and strengthened the bond between them."
The reference to the affair in the letter of a correspondent "B" to "The
Monthly Magazine" has, at least, the merit of being more explicit than
that of the historian. "All the world is acquainted with the attachment
of the late King to a beautiful Quakeress of the name of Wheeler. The
lady disappeared on the royal marriage, in a way that has always been
interesting, because unexplained and mysterious. I have been told she is
still alive, or was lately. As connected with the life of the late
sovereign, the subject is curious; and any information through your
pages would doubtless be agreeable to many of your readers." It appears
that the writer of this letter attributed too much knowledge to "all the
world," for, as will now be shown, it is remarkable how little was
known. The subject once started, however, there were plenty of people
ready to carry on the discussion.
In the July number of the same periodical "A Warminster Correspondent"
states that the name of the girl was not Wheeler but Hannah Lightfoot,
that Hannah had lived at the corner of St. James's Market, with her
mother and father, who kept a shop ("I believe a linen-draper's"), that
the Prince of Wales saw her, fell in love, and persuaded Elizabeth
Chudleigh, one of his mother's maids of honour,[111] to act on his
behalf. "The royal lover's relations took alarm, and sent to inquire for
a young man to marry her," he continues. "Isaac Axford was a shopman to
Barton the grocer, on Ludgate Hill, and used to chat with her when she
came to the shop to buy groceries. Perryn, of Knightsbridge, it was
said, furnished a place of meeting for the royal lover. An agent of Miss
Chudleigh called on Axford, and proposed that on his marrying Hannah he
should have a considerable sum of money. Hannah stayed a short time with
her husband, when she was taken off in a carriage, and Isaac never saw
her more. Axford learned that she was gone with Miss Chudleigh. Isaac
was a poorheaded fellow, or, by making a bustle about it, he might have
secured to himself a good provision. He told me, when I last saw him,
that he presented a petition at St. James's, which was not attended to;
also that he had received some money from Perryn's assignees on account
of his wife." Isaac, it seems, set up as a grocer at Warminster, his
native place, but retired from business before his death, which took
place about 1816 in the eighty-sixth year of his age; having long
before, believing his wife to be dead, married a Miss Bartlett, of
Keevil, North Wilts. "Hannah was fair and pure as far as I ever heard,"
the Warminster correspondent concludes, "but 'not the purest of all
pures' in respect of the house of Mr. Perryn, who left her an annuity of
L40 a year. She was, indeed, considered as one of the most beautiful
women of her time, disposed to _en bon point_."
[111] Elizabeth Chudleigh (1720-1788), married, first, Augustus Hervey
(afterwards third Earl of Bristol), and, second, Evelyn Duke of
Kingston.
The editor of "The Monthly Magazine" now became interested in the
matter, and himself took some trouble to elucidate the facts. "On
inquiry of the Axford family, who still are respectable grocers on
Ludgate Hill, we traced a son of the person alluded to in the letter, by
his second wife, Miss Bartlett, and ascertained that the information of
our correspondent is substantially correct. From him we learn that the
lady lived six weeks with her husband, who was fondly attached to her,
but one evening when he happened to be from home, a coach and four came
to the door, when she was conveyed into it and carried off at a gallop,
no one knew whither. It appears the husband was inconsolable at first,
and at different times applied for satisfaction about his wife at
Weymouth and other places, but died after sixty years in total ignorance
of her fate. It has, however, been reported that she had three sons by
her lover, since high in the Army; that she was buried in Islington
under another name--and even that she is still living."[112]
[112] _The Monthly Magazine_, July, 1821.
"A retreat was provided for Hannah in one of those large houses,
surrounded with a high wall and garden, in the district of
Cat-and-Mutton Fields, on the East side of Hackney Road, leading from
Mile End Road, where she lived, and, it is said, died."--_Notes and
Queries_, 1st series, vol. 8, p. 87.
The research of the editor of "The Monthly Magazine" bears out in the
main his correspondent's statements, and if in one account it is said
that Axford was shopman to Barton the grocer on Ludgate Hill, and in the
other that he was the son of a grocer on Ludgate Hill, these may be
reconciled by the acceptance of the theory that the man was not serving
his apprenticeship in his father's business. It is far more unlikely
that Hannah should go from St. James's Market to Ludgate Hill to
purchase her groceries. It is agreed that Hannah stayed with her husband
for a while after marriage, and it is not unnatural that the Axford
family should suppress the mention of money paid to their forbear and of
the circumstances that induced the payment. A more serious discrepancy,
however, comes to light. "A Warminster Correspondent" remarks that
Axford knew Hannah was with Miss Chudleigh; the family declares he was
ignorant of what happened to her, but say at the same time he "applied
about his wife at Weymouth." Why Weymouth, where George III sometimes
went, if he did not know what had happened to her? Why not Barnstaple,
or Leeds, or Edinburgh?
But now contradictions come fast and furious. "Isaac Axford never
co-habited with his wife. She was taken away from the church door the
same day they were married, and he never heard of her afterwards" states
a contributor to the September number of "The Monthly Magazine"; adding
that Hannah was frequently seen at the door of the St. James's Market
shop by the Prince of Wales as he drove by in going to and from
Parliament and that Axford (who was shopman to Bolton the grocer in
Ludgate Hill) subsequently presented a petition to the King about her in
the park, but obtained little address. The same writer clears Hannah's
reputation so far as Perryn is concerned, by stating that they were
relatives, and thus furnishing an innocent motive for the legacy.
As confusion became worse confounded, some level-headed man asked a
series of questions,[113] of which the most pertinent were: "When and
where did the marriage take place of Hannah Lightfoot, a Quaker, to I.
Axford? Where is the evidence that she was the same Quaker who lived at
the corner of St. James's Market, and was admired by Prince George?"
Facts, however, were just what were not forthcoming, though "Inquirer"
(who claimed to be a member of the Lightfoot family), in a letter to the
October issue of the magazine actually gives a date.
[113] _The Monthly Magazine_, September, 1821.
"Hannah Lightfoot, when residing with her father and mother, was
frequently seen by the King when he drove to and from Parliament House,"
"Inquirer" says. "She eloped in 1754, and was married to Isaac Axford at
Keith's Chapel, which my father discovered about three weeks after, and
none of her family have seen her since, though her mother had a letter
or two from her--but at last died of grief. There were many fabulous
stories about her, but my aunt (the mother of Hannah Lightfoot) could
never trace any to be true." "Inquirer" states that "the general belief
of her friends was that she was taken into keeping by Prince George
directly after her marriage with Axford, but never lived with him," and
adds, "I have lately seen a half-pay cavalry officer from India, who
knew a gentleman of the name of Dalton, who married a daughter of Hannah
Lightfoot by the King, but who is dead."[114]
[114] "With respect to the son born of this marriage, and said to be
still living at the Cape of Good Hope, I think ... there must be some
mistake. I was at the Cape of Good Hope in 1830, and spent some time at
Mr. George Rex's hospitable residence at the Knysna. I understood from
him that he had been about thirty-four years in the colony, and I should
suppose he was about sixty-eight years of age, of a strong, robust
appearance, and the exact resemblance in features to George III. This
would bring him to about the time, as stated in Dr. Doran's work, when
George III married Hannah Lightfoot. On Mr. Rex's first arrival at the
colony, he occupied a high situation in the Colonial Government, and
received an extensive grant of land at the Knysna. He retired there, and
made most extensive improvements. His eldest son named John--at the time
I was there, lived with his father, and will now most probably be the
representative of George Rex."--William Harrison: _Notes and Queries_,
February 9, 1861.
The statement contradicted by Mr. Harrison had appeared in _Notes and
Queries_, October 24, 1868: "When the Duke of Edinburgh went sporting in
Cape Colony he was attended by George Rex and family, according to _The
Times_ account."
So far, then, Hannah Lightfoot (or Wheeler, or, as another writer says,
Whitefoot) was seen by the Prince of Wales on his visits to Parliament
(or, as it is otherwise stated by one who declared that the Prince would
not have passed by St. James's Market on his way to Parliament, or on
his way to the Opera), who fell in love with her, and secured the aid of
Miss Chudleigh to persuade her to leave her home, but his family, being
alarmed, paid Isaac Axford, shopman to Barton (or Bolton) to marry her,
and then she was at once (or after six weeks) taken into keeping by the
Prince. This is not very plain sailing, but the incident took place more
than sixty years before the discussion arose, and the discrepancies are
not unnatural after that lapse of time; but at least there has been
given the place and date of the marriage of Hannah with Isaac--Keith's
Chapel, 1754. Alexander Keith was a clergyman who married parties daily
between the hours of ten and four for the fee of one guinea, inclusive
of the licence, at the Mayfair Chapel to which he gave his name. These
marriages were irregular or "Fleet" marriages, and Keith's carelessness
in conducting them subjected him in October, 1742, to public
excommunication, when, in return, he as publicly excommunicated the
bishop of the diocese, and Dr. Trebeck, the rector of the neighbouring
St. George's, Hanover Square, on being told a stop would be put to his
marrying. "Then," said he, "I'll buy two or three acres of ground, and,
by God, I'll _underbury_ them all!" However, the Marriage Act of 1753
put a stop to his trade.
As a matter of fact, according to the Register of Marriages at St.
George's Chapel, Mayfair, published in 1889 by the Harleian Society,
Hannah Lightfoot married Isaac Axford, of St. Martin's, Ludgate, at
Keith's Chapel on December 11, 1753. Therefore, her intrigue with George
must have taken place when he was fifteen years of age!
So far as "The Monthly Magazine" is concerned the discussion ceased in
1822, but a new point was raised two years later in "An Historical
Fragment relative to her late Majesty Queen Caroline," for, according to
this work, Hannah Lightfoot had married not Axford, but the Prince of
Wales. "The Queen (Caroline) at this time, laboured under a very curious
and, to me unaccountable, species of delusion. She fancied herself in
reality neither a queen nor a wife. She believed his present Majesty to
have been actually married to Mrs. Fitzherbert; and she as fully
believed that his late Majesty George the Third was married to Miss
Hannah Lightfoot, the beautiful Quakeress, previous to his marriage with
Queen Charlotte; and as that lady did not die until after the birth of
the present King and his Royal Highness the Duke of York, her Majesty
really considered the Duke of Clarence the true heir to the throne."
The marriage of Hannah Lightfoot and the Prince of Wales is insisted
upon in the scurrilous "Authentic Records of the Court of England for
the last Seventy Years" (which includes in its list of contents such
items as "The Bigamy of George the Third" and "The Infamous and
cold-blooded MURDERS of the Princess Charlotte, and of Caroline, Queen
of England") and in "The Secret History of the Court of England." "The
unhappy sovereign while Prince of Wales was in the daily habit of
passing through St. James's Street and its immediate vicinity," so runs
a passage in the "Secret History." "In one of his favourite rides
through that part of the town he saw a very engaging young lady, who
appeared by her dress to be a member of the Society of Friends. The
Prince was much struck by the delicacy and lovely appearance of this
female, and for several succeeding days was observed to walk out alone.
At length the passion of his Royal Highness arrived at such a point that
he felt his happiness depended upon receiving the lady in marriage.
Every individual in his immediate circle or in the list of the Privy
Council was very narrowly questioned by the Prince, though in an
indirect manner, to ascertain who was most to be trusted, that he might
secure, honourably, the possession of the object of his ardent wishes.
His Royal Highness, at last, confided his views to his next brother,
Edward, Duke of York, and another person, who were the only witnesses to
the _legal_ marriage of the Prince of Wales to the before-mentioned
lady, Hannah Lightfoot, which took place at Curzon Street Chapel,
Mayfair, in the year 1759. This marriage was productive of _issue_."
Later in the same book it is stated that George III, after his marriage
with Princess Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, reproached himself with
cowardice because he had not avowed the earlier and secret union. "At
this period of increased anxiety to His Majesty, Miss Lightfoot was
disposed of during a temporary absence of his brother Edward, and from
that time no _satisfactory_ tidings ever reached those most interested
in her welfare. The only information that could be obtained was that a
young gentleman, named Axford, was offered a large amount, to be paid on
the consummation of his marriage with Miss Lightfoot, which offer he
willingly accepted. The King was greatly distressed to ascertain the
fate of his much-beloved and legally-married wife, the Quakeress, and
entrusted Lord Chatham to go in disguise and endeavour to trace her
abode; but the search proved fruitless." The "Secret History" contains
other references to this story, and it is narrated how the King, during
his madness in 1765 frequently demanded the presence of "the wife of his
choice," and showed the utmost disgust when the Queen was brought to
him; and how, on another occasion he is declared to have implored not to
be disturbed with "retrospection of past irreparable injury." Many years
later, Dr. Doran gives credence to the report that when Queen Charlotte
sent for her eldest son on hearing of his marriage with Mrs.
Fitzherbert, he said, "My father would have been a happier man if he had
remained true to his marriage with Hannah Lightfoot."
In "The Appeal for Royalty" (1858) there are given copies of two
marriage certificates; the first dated Kew Chapel, April 17, 1759,
signed "George P., Hannah"; the second "at this residence at Peckham,"
May 27, 1759, signed "George Guelph, Hannah Lightfoot;" the officiating
clergyman being J. Wilmot, and the witnesses William Pitt and Anna
Taylor. The same book contains also a copy of Hannah's will.
"Hampstead, July 7, 1763.
"Provided I depart this life, I recommend my two sons and my
daughter to the kind protection of their Royal Father, my husband
his Majesty George III, bequeathing whatever property I may die
possessed of to such dear offspring of my ill-fated marriage. In
case of the death of each of my children, I give and bequeath to
Olive Wilmot, the daughter of my best friend, Dr. Wilmot, whatever
property I am entitled to, or possessed of at the time of my death.
Amen.
"(signed) HANNAH Regina.
"Witnesses J. DUNNING.
"WILLIAM PITT."
These documents in "The Appeal for Royalty" have, however, been proved
in a court of law to be "gross and rank forgeries," and, indeed, their
authenticity can never, for a moment, have been accepted. Nor do the
statements in the "Historical Fragment" concerning Queen Charlotte carry
conviction, even though Bradlaugh, in his "House of Hanover," remarks
that "Hannah Lightfoot died in the winter of 1764," and "in the early
part of the year 1765, the King being then scarcely sane, a second
ceremony of marriage with the Queen was then privately performed by the
Rev. A. Wilmot at Kew Palace."
Still, there remains the fact that the statements in the "Authentic
Records" and in "The Secret History" corroborate each other; but it
would be strange if this were not so, for there is little doubt that,
though the first was issued anonymously and the second bears upon the
title-page Lady Anne Hamilton, the real author of both was Mrs. Olivia
Serres. When it is added that in all probability Mrs. Serres also wrote
the "Historical Fragment" and that her daughter, Mrs. Ryves, was
responsible for "The Appeal for Royalty," it is seen that in all
probability the marriage of Hannah to the heir-apparent was made (and,
most likely, invented) by one person only.[115]
[115] The arguments as to the authorship of the various works to which
reference is made are set forth in the Appendix to Mr. Thoms's
_brochure_.
Mrs. Olivia Serres (1772-1834) was the daughter of James Wilmot, who, as
stated above, claimed to have married Hannah Lightfoot and the Prince of
Wales. She married in 1791 the marine painter, John Thomas Serres. She
claimed in 1817 to be a natural daughter of Henry Frederick, Duke of
Cumberland, and three years later declared herself the Duke's legitimate
daughter, when she assumed the title of Princess Olive of Cumberland.
Her daughter, Lavinia Janetta Horton de Serres, afterwards Mrs. Ryves,
called herself Princess Lavinia of Cumberland and Duchess of Lancaster,
and published "The Appeal for Royalty" and other writings relating to
her claim to the title.
That George III may have married Hannah Lightfoot is not in itself
unthinkable, for royalty has before and since allied itself to maids of
low degree. George III's brother, Henry, Duke of Cumberland, married
Mrs. Horton, while William, Duke of Gloucester, chose for his wife the
Dowager Countess of Waldegrave, and even after the passing of the Royal
Marriage Act the prince who was afterwards George IV went through the
ceremony of marriage with a lady belonging to the Roman Catholic Church,
thus defying the provisions of that Bill and of the Act of Settlement.
If George III married Hannah Lightfoot, then, as there was then no Royal
Marriage Act, Hannah Lightfoot was Queen of England. There is, however,
no evidence to establish even a justifiable suspicion of a marriage
between the Prince of Wales and Hannah Lightfoot. It is incredible that
the Great Commoner should have been a witness, and it is not to be
believed that in disguise he sought for the girl. Still, Pitt may not
have been a witness and neither with or without disguise may he have
sought for Hannah, and yet the story may not be without some
foundation. It must be admitted, however, that even the many statements
as to an intrigue between the couple have been based upon hearsay: no
one who knew Hannah during the time it is alleged she was the Prince's
mistress has spoken, and the nearest approach to direct testimony has
been obtained from one who knew Axford or others who knew members of the
Lightfoot or Axford families. Yet Jesse, Justin McCarthy, and other
writers on George III, accept the theory of the intrigue, and without
reserve, though it is in contradiction to all that is known of the young
man's character at that time. Indeed, George Scott, his tutor, told Mrs.
Calderwood that while the Prince of Wales "has the greatest temptation
to gallant with the ladies, who lay themselves out in the most shameful
manner to draw him in," their efforts did not attract the Prince, for he
realized that "if he were not what he was they would not mind him"; and,
at the period of the supposed romance Scott declared that his erstwhile
pupil "has no tendency to vice, and has as yet very virtuous
principles;" while further contradiction of the rumour may be found in a
letter written in 1731 by George III to Lord North about his son's
entanglement with "Perdita" Robinson, "I am happy at being able to say
that I never was personally engaged in such a transaction."
[Illustration:
_Photo by Emery Walker_
_From the painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds_
LADY SARAH LENNOX SACRIFICING TO THE MUSES]
CHAPTER VI
LADY SARAH LENNOX AND GEORGE III[116]
It is certain that the intrigue between the Prince of Wales and Hannah
Lightfoot could not have been of long duration, for even before he
ascended the throne it was patent to all beholders that he was deeply
infatuated with Lady Sarah Lennox, the youngest daughter of Charles,
second Duke of Richmond, and a great-granddaughter of the Merry Monarch.
[116] The author desires to acknowledge his indebtedness to "The Life
and Letters of Lady Sarah Lennox. Edited by the Countess of Ilchester
and Lord Stavordale (Murray, 1901)," and to express his thanks to Lord
Ilchester, the owner of the copyright, for permission to insert several
extracts from that work.
Lady Sarah had attracted the attention of George II one day when walking
in Kensington Gardens by breaking away from her nurse or governess--she
was but five years old--and addressing him without ceremony: "_Comment
vous portez vous, Monsieur le roi? Vous avez une grande et belle maison
ici, n'est pas?_" Her audacity pleased the sovereign, and he saw her
frequently until 1751, when she was sent to Ireland to her aunt, Lady
Kildare, with whom she remained until she was thirteen. Then she was
placed in the care of Lady Caroline Fox[117] and not long afterwards the
King, in spite of her youth, invited his favourite to court, where,
however, he played and joked with her as if she was still a little
child. The unexpected treatment embarrassed her; she could find nothing
to say, and shyly kept her eyes on the ground, whereupon the King turned
from her, saying, "Pooh! she's quite stupid." The young Prince of Wales
was "struck with admiration and pity" at this sight of beauty in
distress, and then and there, we are told, fell in love--thus showing an
appreciation of good looks that was not common with the Georges.
[117] Afterwards the wife of Henry Fox, first Baron Holland.
Lady Sarah, who was not fifteen when she went to Court in November,
1759, was indeed, alike according to her portraits and to all
contemporary chroniclers, a most lovely girl. "Her beauty is not easily
described otherwise than by saying she had the finest complexion, most
beautiful hair, and prettiest person that ever was seen, with a
sprightly and fine air, a pretty mouth, and remarkably fine teeth, and
excess of bloom in her cheeks, little eyes," said her uncle, Henry Fox.
"This is not describing her, for her great beauty was a peculiarity of
countenance that made her at the same time different from and prettier
than any other girl I ever saw."[118] Walpole is quite as enthusiastic
about her charms in a letter to George Montagu, written in January,
1761. "There was a play at Holland House, acted by children; not all
children, for Lady Sarah Lennox and Lady Susan Strangways played the
women. It was 'Jane Shore.' Charles Fox was Hastings. The two girls were
delightful and acted with so much nature, that they appeared the very
things they represented. Lady Sarah was more beautiful than you can
conceive; her very awkwardness gave an air of truth to the sham of the
part, and the antiquity of the time, kept up by the dress, which was
taken out of Montfaucon. Lady Susan was dressed from Jane Seymour. I was
more struck with the last scene between the two women than ever I was
when I have seen it on the stage. When Lady Sarah was in white, with her
hair about her ears, and on the ground, no Magdalen of Correggio was
half so lovely and expressive."
[118] _Lord Holland's Memoir_ in _The Life and Letters of Lady Sarah
Lennox_.
After the death of his grandfather, George III made no effort to hide
the state of his feelings. Of course, the Princess Dowager came to know
of her son's attachment to Lady Sarah, and she and Lord Bute were aghast
at the notion of the King marrying the girl, for such an alliance would
be even more fatal to their influence on the young monarch than the
frustrated union with a princess of the House of Brunswick, since in
this case they would have to contend, not only against the power of a
fascinating bride, but also against the intrigues of such an astute
politician as Henry Fox, who had everything to gain by excluding them
from the King's councils. On the other hand, Fox, his hand strengthened
by the fact that the laws of England do not forbid the sovereign to mate
with a subject, did all he could to promote the union that must benefit
him. So while the principals in that love affair played their parts,
behind them was a bitter fight that was not the less severe because it
could not come to open warfare.
Fox was careful that his niece, Lady Sarah, should stay at Holland House
so long as the King was in town, but discreetly himself went from time
to time to his house at Kingsgate in the Isle of Thanet, very wisely
realizing that the strongest card in his hand was the charm of the young
girl. "Though Fox went himself to bathe in the sea, and possibly even to
disguise his intrigues," Walpole wrote in 1761, "he left Lady Sarah at
Holland House, where she appeared in a field close to the great road
(where the King passed on horseback) in a fancy habit making hay."
The course of true love ran smoothly enough for a while. The King was
young and handsome, and Lady Sarah, not averse to be a queen, received
his overtures graciously. So far, indeed, had the affair progressed
early in 1761, that the King confided his passion to Lady Sarah's
friend, Lady Susan Fox Strangways,[119] with whom he had the following
guarded conversation:
"You are going into Somersetshire; when do you return?"
"Not before winter, sir, or I don't know how soon in winter."
"Is there nothing will bring you back to town before winter?"
"I don't know of anything."
"Would you not like to see a Coronation?"
"Yes, sir. I hope I should come to see that."
"I hear it's very popular my having put it off.... Won't it be a much
finer sight when there is a Queen?"
"To be sure, sir."
"I have had a great many applications from abroad, but I don't like
them. I have had none at home: I should like that better.... What do you
think of your friend? You know who I mean; don't you think her fittest?"
"Think, sir?"
"I think none so fit."[120]
[119] Eldest daughter of Stephen, first Earl of Ilchester, the eldest
brother of Henry Fox. Lady Susan eloped in 1764 with William O'Brien,
the actor.
[120] Lord Holland's _Memoir_ in _The Life and Letters of Lady Sarah
Lennox_.
According to Thomas Pitt, Lady Susan was much embarrassed when the King
said, "I have had no applications at home: I should like that better,"
as, for an instant, she thought he meant her, but her agitation was
dissipated when he continued, "I mean your friend, Lady Sarah Lennox.
Tell her so, and let me have her answer the next Drawing-room day."[121]
Fox, however, makes no allusion to this, and merely records that the
King crossed over to Lady Sarah, and told her to ask her friend what he
had been saying.
[121] _Grenville Papers._
A week later the King asked Lady Sarah if she had heard what he had
said, and upon her replying in the affirmative, put the question, "Do
you approve?" to which he received as answer only a cross look,
whereupon, in high dudgeon, he left the room. This brusque repulse is
explained by the fact that Lady Sarah was piqued by her lover, Lord
Newbattle,[122] and sought solace by avenging his offence upon her royal
suitor. Fox remarked the coolness of the King, and commented, "He has
undoubtedly heard of Lord Newbattle and more than is true;" but soon the
sovereign's love conquered his dignity, and perhaps a reconciliation was
hastened by the news of an accident in the hunting field to Lady Sarah.
Lord Newbattle when told she had fractured a leg had said, "It will do
no great harm, for her legs were ugly enough before," and this
statement, repeated to Lady Sarah, cured her of her attachment to the
speaker, and made her more ready, on her recovery, to accede to the
King's request to reconsider his proposal.
[122] John William, Lord Newbattle, afterwards fifth Marquis of Lothian.
"Lord Newbattle (Lord Ancram's son), a vain, insignificant puppy,
lively, and not ugly, made love to all the girls, but was much in love
with Lady Caroline Russell, the Duke of Bedford's daughter. Lady Sarah
tried to get him away from her, and was so pleased with her success that
she grew too much pleased with his Lordship. It was really a commerce of
vanity, not of love, on each side."--_Henry Fox_, 1761.
But this marriage was not to be. "They talk very strongly of a white
Princess of Brunswick about fifteen, to be our new Queen, and so
strongly that one can hardly help believing it, though with no good and
particular authority," Fox wrote on April 7, 1761; though a week later
he recorded: "On Sunday I heard from good authority that the report of
his Majesty's intended marriage with a Princess of Brunswick was
entirely without foundation, and that he was totally free and
unengaged." That Fox was incredulous as to the King's marriage with a
princess was not unnatural, considering the monarch's conduct. "At the
court ball on his Majesty's birthday, June 4, 1761, Lady Sarah's place
was, of course, at the head of the dancers' bench, nearest his seat: the
royal chair, heavy as it was, was moved nearer and nearer to the left,
and he edged further and further the same way, and the conversation went
on till all dancing was over and everybody sat in suspense; and it
approached one in the morning ere he recollected himself and rose to
dismiss the assembly."[123] On June 18 the King said to Lady Sarah: "For
God's sake remember what I said to Lady Susan before you went to the
country, and believe that I have the strongest attachment." Yet within a
fortnight of explicit declaration, which was well received by the girl,
a Council was summoned for July 8, though even on the 6th Fox could
obtain no hint from Lord Bute as to the business to be transacted. At
the meeting of the Council the King announced his forthcoming marriage
with Princess Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz!
[123] Percy Fitzgerald: _The Good Queen Charlotte_.
Lady Susan Fox Strangways was more aggrieved than the person chiefly
concerned, for, as she remarked humorously, "I almost thought myself
Prime Minister"; but Fox was furious, as much at the deception as at the
disappointment. "My mother (Lady Sarah) would probably have been vexed,"
said Henry Napier, "but her favourite squirrel happened to die at the
same time, and his loss was more felt than that of a crown."[124] Lady
Sarah was not in love with the King, and the shock fell not on her heart
but on her vanity. "I did not cry, I assure you, which I believe you
will, as I know you were set upon it that I was," she wrote on July 7,
1761, to Lady Susan. "The thing I am most angry at is looking so like a
fool, as I shall for having gone so often for nothing, but I don't much
care; if he was to change his mind again (which can't be though), and
not give me a _very_ good reason for his conduct, I would not have him,
for if he is so weak as to be governed by everybody, I shall have but a
bad time of it." She certainly had reason to complain of the King's
conduct, and, after referring to his "mighty kind speeches and looks,"
this she did to the same correspondent. "Even last Thursday, the day
after the orders [for the Council] were come out," she wrote, "the
hypocrite had the face to come up and speak to me with all the good
humour in the world, and seemed to want to speak to me but was
afraid.... He must have sent to this woman [Princess Charlotte] before
you went out of town, then what business had he to begin again? In
short, his behaviour is that of a man who has neither sense, good
nature, nor honesty."[125]
[124] Mr. Napier's _Memoir_ in _The Life and Letters of Lady Sarah
Lennox_.
[125] _Life and Letters of Lady Sarah Lennox._
The King's conduct at this juncture has never been satisfactorily
explained. "It is well known," Wraxall wrote, "that before his marriage
the King distinguished by his partiality Lady Sarah Lennox, then one of
the most beautiful young women of high rank in the kingdom. Edward IV,
or Henry VIII, in his situation, would have married and placed her on
the throne. Charles II, more licentious, would have endeavoured to
seduce her. But the King, though he admired her, neither desired to make
her his wife nor his mistress, subdued his passion by the strength of
his reason, his principles, and his sense of public duty."[126]
[126] _Historical Memoirs of My Own Times._
This statement is certainly inaccurate, at least in so far as the
remark that the King did not desire to make Lady Sarah his wife, for all
the evidence--which was not available in Wraxall's day--tends to prove
that for a while this was his wish. There is more truth in the
supposition that his sense of public duty intervened in favour of a lady
of royal birth, though this furnishes no reason for keeping his
intention secret from Lady Sarah. Doubtless he was persuaded by his
mother and Lord Bute that it was his duty to espouse a princess, and,
once convinced of this, he sighed and sighed, and rode away.
Fox knew he was beaten, but he showed a philosophic calm. "Well, Sal,"
he said to his niece, "you are the first virgin in England, and you
shall take your place in spite of them all as chief bridesmaid, and the
King shall behold your pretty face and repent." But the twain met again
so early as July 16 when Lady Sarah went to Court. "I went this morning
for the first time," she wrote to her friend. "He looked frightened when
he saw me, but notwithstanding came up with what countenance I don't
know for I was not so gracious as ever to look at him: when he spoke our
conversation was short. Here it is. 'I see riding is begun again, it's
glorious weather for it now.' Answer. 'Yes, it is very fine,'--and add
to that a very cross and angry look of my side and his turning away
immediately, and you know the whole."[127]
[127] _Life and Letters of Lady Sarah Lennox._
Lady Sarah, as her uncle had promised, was duly appointed chief
bridesmaid, and perhaps she felt herself avenged, for, according to
Princess Amelia, "Upon my word my nephew has most wonderful assurance;
during the ceremony he never took his eyes from Lady Sarah, or cast them
once upon his bride."[128] It was remarked that the King moved uneasily
when the Archbishop of Canterbury read the lines of the marriage
service: "And as Thou didst send Thy blessing upon Abraham and Sarah to
their great comfort, so vouchsafe to send Thy blessing upon these Thy
servants"; but it has not been recorded how the King felt when, at the
Drawing-room held on the next day, the old Earl of Westmoreland mistook
Lady Sarah for the Queen and was only prevented just in time from
kneeling and kissing her hand.[129]
[128] Lord Carlisle: _Reminiscences_.
[129] Walpole: _Memoirs of George III_.
Lord Westmoreland was an adherent of the Stuarts, and Selwyn said that
"the lady in waiting must have told him Lady Sarah was the Pretender."
That the King never forgot Lady Sarah Lennox is certain. When at the
theatre he saw Mrs. Pope, who much resembled Lady Sarah, he fell into a
reverie, and, forgetful of the Queen and other persons in his box,
mused: "She is like Lady Sarah still"; while Princess Elizabeth told
Lady Louisa Stuart, "Do you know papa says she (Princess Mary) will be
like Lady Sarah Bunbury, who was the prettiest woman he ever saw in his
life." Lady Sarah was well content with her lot, and, as is well known,
made in 1762 "a match of her own choice" with the sporting baronet, Sir
Thomas Charles Bunbury, and, when this union was dissolved in 1781,
married the Hon. George Napier,[130] and became the mother of eight
children, two of whom, William and Charles, attained distinction as,
respectively, the historian of the Peninsular War and the conqueror of
Scinde.[131] But we have no concern here with the later years of Lady
Sarah, save to remark that she never regretted the loss of the brilliant
position to which she so nearly attained. "I declare that I have for
years reverenced the Queen's name, and admired the judgment of
Providence in placing so exalted a character in a station where my
miserable one would have been a disgrace!" she wrote in 1789 to Lady
Susan O'Brien. "And now I still affirm the judgment of Providence is
always right, but I see she was chosen to punish the poor King's faults
by her ambitions and conduct instead of _me_ by my faults, and I _still_
rejoice I was never Queen, and so I shall to my life's end; for, at the
various events in it, I have regularly catechised myself upon that very
point, and I always preferred my own situation, sometimes happy,
sometimes miserable, to what it would have been had that event ever
taken place." One other quotation from a letter from Lady Sarah to the
same correspondent may perhaps be allowed. "I am one who will keep the
King's marriage-day with unfeigned joy and gratitude to Heaven that I am
not in her Majesty's place! It was the happiest day for me, in as much
[as] I like to attend my dear sick husband better than a King. I like my
sons better than I like the royal sons, thinking them better animals,
and more likely to give me comfort in my old age; and I like better to
be a subject, than subject to the terrors of royalty in these days of
trouble. It's pleasant to have lived to be satisfied of the great
advantages of a lot which in those days I might have deemed unlucky.
Ideas of fifteen and sixty one cannot well assimilate; but mine began
at fourteen, for if you remember I was not near fifteen when my poor
head began to be turned by adulation, in consequence of my supposed
favour. In the year 1759, on the late Princess of Wales's birthday,
November 30, I ought to have been in my nursery, and I shall ever think
it was unfair to bring me into the world while a child. _Au reste_, I am
delighted to hear the King is so well, for I am excessively partial to
him. I always consider him as an old friend that has been in the wrong;
but does one love one's friend less for being in the wrong even towards
oneself? I don't, and I would not value the friendship of those who
measure friendship by my deservings. God help me if all my friends
thought thus."[132]
[130] Second son of Francis, fifth Baron Napier.
[131] It has been said that Sir Charles announced the capture of Scinde
in the briefest despatch on record--"Peccavi." Only such a brilliant
exploit can be accepted as excuse for such an execrable joke.
[132] _Life and Letters of Lady Sarah Lennox._
CHAPTER VII
THE ROYAL MARRIAGE
The rumour that the King would espouse a Princess of Brunswick had
arisen from a proposal to that effect made by the Princess Dowager, but
for many reasons this suggestion was not acted upon. Subsequently a
princess of the house of Hesse was thought of, but her levity of conduct
was such that, when it came to the point, it was found that "nobody
would take it upon them to recommend her." Eventually Lord Bute
instructed a Colonel Graeme or Graham to visit the German courts to find
a princess who should be "perfect in her form, of pure blood and healthy
constitution, possessed of elegant accomplishments, particularly music,
to which the King was much attached, and of a mild and obliging
disposition." The appointment of Graeme for this responsible errand
caused much surprise, for the selected envoy had been notorious as a
Jacobite; which provoked Hume to the remark that Graeme had exchanged
the dangerous office of making a king for the more lucrative one of
making a king's marriage. However, the envoy was conscientious, and "in
the character of a private gentleman, played lotto with the ladies of
one court, and drank the aperient waters with the antiquated dames of
another, merely to hear the tittle-tattle of the day, respecting the
positive or negative virtues, the absence or excellence of personal
charms, which at that time distinguished the marriageable princesses of
the numerous royal, ducal, or princely families of Protestant
Germany."[133] Graeme carried out his task to the best of his ability.
He had been commanded to seek a peerless Dulcinda: he found Princess
Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz,[134] who subsequently rewarded him
for his share in her promotion by the bestowal of one of the richest
places in the gift of the Queen of England, the Mastership of St.
Catherine's Hospital.
[133] Huish: _The Public and Private Life of George III_.
[134] Princess Charlotte Sophia, younger daughter of Charles Louis, Duke
of Miroir, the second son of the Duke of Mecklenburg-Strelitz. The
Princess was born on May 16, 1744; her father died in 1751.
[Illustration: _From a drawing by T. McArdell_
QUEEN CHARLOTTE]
There is, however, another account of the selection of Princess
Charlotte as consort of George III. The King of Prussia's army had
devastated the Duchy of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, and the young Princess
protested in a letter to the monarch....
"May it please your Majesty, I am at a loss whether I should
congratulate or condole with you on your late victory over Marshall
Daun, November 3, 1760 since the same success which has covered you with
laurels, has overspread the country of Mecklenburg with desolation. I
know, Sire, that it seems unbecoming my sex, in this age of vicious
refinement, to feel for one's country, to lament the horrors of war, or
wish for the return of peace. I know you may think it more properly my
province to study the arts of pleasing, or to inspect subjects of a more
domestic nature; but, however unbecoming it may be in me, I cannot
resist the desire of interceding for this unhappy people. It was but a
very few years ago that this territory wore the most pleasing
appearance; the country was cultivated, the peasants looked cheerful,
and the towns abounded with riches and festivity. What an alteration at
present from such a charming scene! I am not expert at description, nor
can my fancy add any horrors to the picture; but surely even conquerors
would weep at the hideous prospects now before me. The whole country, my
dear country, lies one frightful waste, presenting only objects to
excite terror, pity, and despair. The business of the husbandman and
shepherd are discontinued. The husbandman and the shepherd are become
soldiers themselves, and help to ravage the soil they formerly
cultivated. The towns are inhabited only by old men, old women, and
children; perhaps here and there a warrior, by wounds or loss of limbs,
rendered unfit for service, left at his door; his little children hang
round him, ask an history of every wound, and grow themselves soldiers,
before they find strength for the field. But this were nothing, did we
not feel the alternate insolence of either army as it happens to advance
or retreat, in pursuing the operations of the campaign. It is impossible
to express the confusion, even those who call themselves our friends
create; even those from whom we might expect redress oppress with new
calamities. From your justice, therefore, it is we hope relief. To you
even women and children may complain, whose humanity stoops to the
meanest petition, and whose power is capable of repressing the greatest
injustice."
A copy of this document, so the story goes, found its way, either by
accident or design, to George III, who, not pausing to consider that it
was unlikely to have been composed by a sixteen-year-old princess,
exclaimed to Lord Hertford: "This is the lady whom I shall select for my
consort--here are lasting beauties--the man who has any mind may feast
and not be satisfied. If the disposition of the Princess but equals her
refined sense, I shall be the happiest man, as I hope, with my people's
concurrence, to be the greatest monarch in Europe." If in a wife George
desired such qualities as a knowledge of the elements of Lutheran
divinity, natural history, and mineralogy, with some French, a trifle of
Italian, and a style of drawing that even a courtier could describe only
as "above that of the ordinary amateur," they were, for the asking, to
be had in this Princess. Apparently these accomplishments sufficed, for
_pourparlers_ were exchanged, and the King's intention to marry Princess
Charlotte was on July 8, 1761, notified by himself to the Privy Council.
"Having nothing so much at heart as to procure the welfare and happiness
of my people, and to render the same stable and permanent to posterity,"
he said, "I have, ever since my accession to the throne, turned my
thoughts towards the choice of a Princess for my consort; and I now,
with great satisfaction acquaint you, that after the fullest information
and maturest deliberation, I am come to a resolution to demand in
marriage the Princess Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, a princess
distinguished by every eminent virtue and amiable endowment, whose
illustrious line has constantly shown the firmest zeal for the
Protestant religion, and a particular attachment to my family. I have
judged proper to communicate to you these my intentions, in order that
you may be fully apprised of a matter so highly important to me and to
my kingdom, and which I persuade myself will be most acceptable to all
my loving subjects."
To this meeting of the Privy Council was summoned Lord Harcourt, who,
after the King's speech, was to his great surprise informed by Lord Bute
that he had been appointed Master of the Horse, and was to go to
Strelitz to make formal application for the hand of the Princess. "After
what happened to me some years ago, it was beneath me to become a
solicitor for favours," he said. "This honour I expected about as much
as I did the bishopric of London, then vacant." He accepted the mission,
and on August 8 set sail for Strelitz--"if he can find it," Walpole said
satirically, in allusion to the size of the Duchy, the dimensions of
which were one hundred and twenty miles long by thirty miles broad.
"They say the little Princess who had written the fine letter about the
horrors of war--a beautiful letter without a single blot, for which she
was to be rewarded, like the heroine of the old spelling book story--was
at play one day with some of her young companions in the gardens of
Strelitz, and that the young lady's conversation was, strange to say,
about husbands," Thackeray has written. "'Who will take such a poor
little princess as me?' Charlotte said to her friend, Ida von Buelow, and
at that very moment the postman's horn sounded, and Ida said, 'Princess!
there is the sweetheart.' As she said, so it actually turned out. The
postman brought letters from the splendid young King of all England, who
said, 'Princess! because you have written such a beautiful letter, which
does credit to your head and heart, come and be Queen of Great Britain,
France, and Ireland, and the true wife of your most obedient servant,
George.' So she jumped for joy; and went upstairs and packed all her
little trunks; and set off straightway for her kingdom in a beautiful
yacht, with a harpsichord on board for her to play upon, and around her
a beautiful fleet, all covered with flags and streamers."[135]
[135] Thackeray: _The Four Georges_.
This playful account is not, perhaps, historically correct, but, if the
story is to be believed, it conveys the true spirit of the offer and its
acceptance. The Princess was just seventeen years of age, and had led
the quietest life imaginable, studying under Madame de Grabow, the
"German Sappho," cultivating medicinal herbs and fruit for the poor, and
employing her leisure with embroidery and needlework. Six days a week
she had worn the simplest attire; on the seventh only, when she attended
church in state, had been granted the privilege of full dress and the
delight of a drive in a coach and six. Indeed, she had never dined at
the ducal table until, on the arrival of Lord Harcourt, her brother
Adolphus Frederick, the reigning Duke, told her she was expected to be
present. "Mind what you say," he added, and "don't behave like a child";
and of course the warning produced a fit of shyness, the discomfort of
which more than counterbalanced the pleasure of her first dinner party.
Later in the evening, or (some authorities say) the next morning, the
Duke, again cautioning her, "_Allons, ne faites pas l'enfant, tu vas
etre reine d'Angleterre_," led her into a drawing-room, where, after
Lord Harcourt had presented some jewels from his master, the marriage
ceremony was performed, with Drummond, the resident English minister at
the ducal court, as the King's proxy.[136]
[136] This alliance interfered with another marriage. The Duke of
Roxburgh had fallen in love with Princess Christina, Charlotte's elder
sister, and would probably have married her, but this plan perforce fell
through when George III selected Princess Charlotte for his consort, for
it was one of the conditions of the contract that no member of the
Mecklenburg-Strelitz family should wed an English subject. Neither
Princess Christina nor her suitor ever married.
The treaty of marriage was signed on August 15, 1761, and although,
suddenly nervous at the prospective plunge into the unknown world, the
new Queen would willingly have postponed her departure for a few days
longer, yet, as the coronation of her husband and herself was already
fixed for September 22, she was compelled to leave Strelitz two days
after the ceremony. At Stade she was met by the Duchess of Hamilton and
the Duchess of Ancaster, who had come to escort the bride to her adopted
country. "I hope friendship may take the place of ceremony in our
relations," she greeted them, having apparently at once caught the tone
of regal graciousness; and she completed the conquest of the noble dames
when, after gazing at them, she said wonderingly and a little fearful:
"Are all English women as beautiful as you?" Queen Charlotte was very
humble in those early days, and her childish delight in the salutes with
which cannons and bells greeted her was tempered with meek astonishment:
"Am I worthy of all these honours?"
The royal party embarked at Cuxhaven on August 22, but did not reach
Harwich until Sunday, September 6. The delay, which was occasioned by
exceptionally rough weather, caused some anxiety as to the safety of the
Queen, especially in London, where the news of her arrival was not
known until Monday. "Last night at ten o'clock it was neither certain
where she landed, nor when she would be in town," Horace Walpole wrote
on Tuesday, September 8, "I forgive history for knowing nothing when so
public an event as the arrival of a new queen is a mystery even at this
very moment at St. James's. The messenger that brought the letter
yesterday morning said she _arrived_ at half-an-hour after four at
Harwich; this was immediately translated into _landing_, and notified in
these words to the ministers. Six hours afterwards it proved no such
thing, and, that she was only in Harwich Road; and they recollected that
half-an-hour after four happens twice in twenty-four hours, and the
letter did not specify which of the twices it was. Well, the bridesmaids
whipt on their virginity; the New Road and the Parks were thronged; the
guns were choking with impatience to go off; and Sir James Lowther, who
was to pledge his Majesty, was actually married to Lady Mary Stuart.
Five, six, seven, eight o'clock came, and no queen."
The Queen had remained on board until three o'clock on Monday afternoon,
so as to allow time for the preparations incidental to her reception.
She then drove to Colchester, which was reached at five o'clock, and
from there went on to Witham, where she stayed overnight at Lord
Abercorn's.[137] Leaving Witham early in the morning, the Queen arrived
at noon at Romford, where she was met by the King's coaches and
servants. She entered one of the royal carriages, dressed in "a fly-cap
with rich lace lappets, a stomacher ornamented with diamonds, and a gold
brocade suit of clothes with a white ground." Her companions desired her
to curl her _toupee_ but this she declined to do on the ground that it
looked as well as that of any of the ladies sent to fetch her, adding
that if the King wished her to wear a periwig she would do so, but
otherwise would remain as she was.
[137] James, eighth Earl of Abercorn (1712-1789), carried his
independence to a disconcerting bluntness. When he presented himself at
St. James's, the King thanked him for his courtesy to the Queen, and
said he feared his visit must have given him a good deal of trouble. "A
good deal indeed," replied the Earl.
From Romford the Queen and her attendants, watched by immense crowds,
proceeded to "Stratford-le-bow and Mile-end turnpike, where they turned
up Dog-row, and prosecuted their journey to Hackney turnpike, then by
Shoreditch Church, and up Old Street to the City-road, across Islington,
along the New-road into Hyde Park, down Constitutional-hill into St.
James's Park." At the sight of the Palace, the Queen turned pale, and,
noticing that the Duchess of Hamilton smiled, "My dear Duchess," she
said, "you may laugh; you have been married twice, but it is no joke to
me." At twenty minutes past three in the afternoon she arrived at St.
James's, and Walpole remarked that the "noise of the coaches, chaises,
horsemen, mob, that have been to see her pass through the parks is so
prodigious that I cannot distinguish the guns."
The King received his bride at the entrance to the palace, and, though
he had chosen her for her "lasting beauties", was so surprised by the
homeliness of her features that, says Galt, "an involuntary expression
of the King's countenance revealed what was passing within." Lady Anne
Hamilton goes so far as to say that, "At the first sight of the German
Princess, the King actually shrank from her gaze, for her countenance
was of that cast that too plainly told of the nature of the spirit
working within,"[138] but this is almost certainly exaggeration, and may
be dismissed with the following statement by the same author: "In the
meantime the Earl of Abercorn informed the Princess of the previous
marriage of the King and of the existence of his Majesty's wife; and
Lord Harcourt advised the Princess to well inform herself of the policy
of the kingdom, as a measure for preventing much future disturbance in
the country, as well as securing an uninterrupted possession of the
throne to her issue. Presuming therefore that the German Princess had
hitherto been an open and ingenuous character, such expositions,
intimations, and dark mysteries, were ill-calculated to nourish
honourable feelings, but would rather operate as a check to their
further existence. To the public eye the newly married pair were
contented with each other; alas! it was because each feared an exposure
to the nation. The King reproached himself that he had not fearlessly
avowed the only wife of his affections; the Queen because she feared an
explanation that the King was guilty of bigamy, and thereby her claim,
as also that of her progeny (if she should have any), would be known to
be illegitimate. It appears as if the result of those reflections formed
a basis for the misery of millions, and added to that number millions
yet unborn."[139]
[138] _Secret History of the Court of England._
[139] Lady Anne Hamilton: _Secret History_.
Lord Harcourt wrote from Strelitz of the bride as "no regular beauty",
but credited her with a charming complexion, very pretty eyes, and a
good figure, summing her up as a very fine girl, and Mrs. Papendiek, who
came over with her, has placed on record a not dissimilar picture, "She
was certainly not a beauty, but her countenance was expressive and
intelligent. She was not tall, but of a slight, rather pretty figure;
her eyes bright and sparkling with good humour and vivacity, her mouth
large, but filled with white and even teeth, and her hair really
beautiful." Walpole has said that within half-an-hour of her arrival in
the metropolis one heard of nothing but proclamations of her beauty, but
his first description of her was not flattering, and his second denies
her all claim to good looks. "Her person was small and very lean, not
well made; her face pale and homely, her nose somewhat flat and mouth
very large. Her hair, however, was of a fine brown, and her countenance
pleasing," he wrote on her arrival; but later remarked: "She had always
been, if not ugly, at least ordinary, but in her later years her want of
personal charms became, of course, less observable, and it used to be
said that she was grown better-looking. I said one day something to this
effect to Colonel Desbrowe, her Chamberlain. 'Yes,' he replied, 'I do
think the _bloom_ of her ugliness is going off!'"
Immediately upon her arrival the King introduced to his bride the
members of his family, and soon after the royal party sat down to
dinner. Later the bridesmaids[140] and the Court were introduced, and
in such numbers that she exclaimed as the long procession passed before
her, "_Mon Dieu, il y en a tout, il y en a tout._" She bore herself with
dignity, but was civil and good-humoured, showed pleasure when she was
told she should kiss the peeresses, and betrayed a pretty reluctance to
give her hand to be kissed by the humbler folk. At ten o'clock all
repaired to the chapel where the marriage ceremony was repeated. The
Queen was, of course, in bridal costume, and Walpole thought she looked
very sensible, cheerful, and remarkably genteel. "Her tiara of diamonds
was very pretty, her stomacher was sumptuous," he commented: "her
violet-velvet mantle so heavy that the spectators know as much of her
upper half as the King himself." This was a trying ordeal after a long
journey, but the Queen forgot or disguised her fatigue, and when the
party returned to the drawing-room, was quite cheerful, played the
spinet and sang while the company was waiting for supper, talked French
with some guests and German with her attentive husband. "It does not
promise," said Walpole, "as if they would be the two most unhappy people
in England."
[140] The bridesmaids, dressed in white lustring with silver trimmings
ornamented with pearls and diamonds, were chosen from the unmarried
daughters of dukes and earls, and were ten in number: Lady Sarah Lennox,
Lady Caroline Russell, Lady Anne Hamilton, Lady Elizabeth Kerr, Lady
Harriet Bentinck, Lady Caroline Montague, Lady Elizabeth Keppel, Lady
Louisa Greville, Lady Elizabeth Harcourt, and Lady Susan Fox
Strangways.
CHAPTER VIII
THE RISE AND FALL OF THE "FAVOURITE"
The great question that agitated English political society at the
accession of George III was, as a lady summed it up in a _bon-mot_,
"whether the new King would burn in his chamber _Scotch_ coal,
_Newcastle_ coal, or _Pitt_ coal." The curious were not long kept in a
state of suspense, for George showed at once that he was determined so
far as possible to be independent of ministers not of his own choosing;
and when, after his arrival in London, Pitt waited on him and presented
a paper on which were written a few sentences that the Great Commoner
thought the monarch should deliver at his first Council, the King, after
thanking Pitt for his consideration, said he had already prepared his
speech for that occasion.[141] This, as a matter of fact, he had done in
conjunction with Lord Bute, and at the meeting of the Council, although
at first somewhat embarrassed, he soon recovered his self-possession,
and delivered himself of the address.
[141] Galt: _George III, His Family and Court_.
[Illustration: _From an engraving after the painting by Allan Ramsay_
JOHN, EARL OF BUTE]
"The just concern which I have felt in my own breast on the sudden death
of the late King, my royal grandfather, makes me not doubt, but that
all have been deeply affected with so severe a loss. The present
critical and difficult conjuncture has made this loss the more sensible,
as he was the great support of that system by which alone the liberties
of Europe, and the weight and influence of these kingdoms can be
preserved, and give life to measures conducive to those important ends.
"I need not tell you the addition of weight which immediately falls upon
me, in being called to the government of this free and powerful country
at such a time, and under such circumstances. My consolation is in the
uprightness of my own intentions, your faithful and united assistance,
and the blessing of Heaven upon our joint endeavours, which I devoutly
implore.
"Born and educated in this country, I glory in the name of Briton; and
the peculiar happiness of my life will ever consist in promoting the
welfare of a people whose loyalty and warm affection to me I consider as
the greatest and most permanent security of my throne, and I doubt not
but this steadiness in those principles will equal the firmness of my
invariable resolution to adhere to, and strengthen this excellent
constitution in church and state, and to maintain the toleration
inviolable. The civil and religious rights of my loving subjects are
equally dear to me with the most valuable prerogatives of my crown; and
as the surest foundation of the whole, and the best means to draw down
the divine favour on my reign, it is my fixed purpose to countenance and
encourage the practice of true religion and virtue."[142]
[142] _London Gazette_, October 21, 1760.
The King's speech was well received throughout the country, although
there were many who agreed with ex-Lord Chancellor Hardwicke that the
since historic sentence, "Born and educated in this country, I glory in
the name of Briton," was, if not an insult, at least discourteous to his
last two predecessors, and the annoyance felt by some was not allayed
when it became known that Bute, so as to include Scotland, had altered
the "Englishman" of the first draft to "Briton" in the revised copy. To
this nine years later, Junius made reference in his address to the King.
"When you affectedly renounced the name of Englishman, believe me, Sir,
you were persuaded to pay a very ill-judged compliment to one part of
your subjects at the expense of another. While the natives of Scotland
are not in actual rebellion, they are undoubtedly entitled to
protection, nor do I mean to condemn the policy of giving some
encouragement to the novelty of their affections for the house of
Hanover. I am ready to hope for everything from their new-born zeal, and
from the future steadiness of their allegiance. But hitherto they have
no claim on your favour. To honour them with a determined predilection
and confidence, in exclusion of your English subjects who placed your
family, and, in spite of treachery and rebellion have supported it, upon
the throne, is a mistake too gross even for the unsuspecting generosity
of youth. In your error we see a capital violation of the most obvious
rules of policy and prudence. We trace it, however, to an original bias
in your education, and are ready to allow for your inexperience."
On the whole, however, the nation extended a hearty welcome to the young
King and on his accession he was undoubtedly popular. At least, English
was his native tongue, and this was the more agreeable because George II
had spoken it with a very broad German accent, Frederick, Prince of
Wales, on his arrival in England, knew but a few words of the language,
and George I had not understood it at all. "My father 'brushed up his
old Latin!' to use a phrase of Queen Elizabeth, in order to converse
with the first Hanoverian sovereign," Horace Walpole has told us, "and
ruled both kings in spite of their mistresses." Now, for the first time
for six and forty years, England boasted a sovereign whose interests
were not centred in Hanover, a young man, not a middle-aged reprobate
surrounded with women of sullied reputations: further, the dynasty was
more firmly established, and the Jacobite faction had dwindled in power
from a serious menace to an empty threat. George I had been confronted
with the Old Pretender, his successor had had to contend against the
Young Pretender; but George III, who had nothing to fear from the
Stuarts and their adherents, could increase his popularity by showing
some favour to the Tories, who during the previous reigns, owing to the
suspicions that they were attached to the Stuart interest, had been
tabooed.
So little fear, indeed, had the reigning dynasty for the representative
of that which preceded it, that though it was known Charles Edward was
in London at the time of the coronation, the government made no attempt
to secure his person. It is even recorded how that Prince, in answer to
an inquiry how he dared venture to show himself in London, stated that
he was very safe; and, indeed, this was the case, for his day had
passed, the Hanoverian dynasty had firmly established itself, and the
once magic name of Stuart now made no impression upon the nation. "Let
sleeping dogs lie," was in this case apparently the rule by which the
King and his advisers guided their conduct.[143]
[143] Nicholls: _Literary Anecdotes of the Eighteenth Century_; and
other works.
It is generally believed that the Stuart Prince was present at the
coronation either incognito as Mr. Brown among the spectators on the
floor of the hall, or disguised in woman's attire in the gallery.
Indeed, more than one person claims to have seen him, and Lord Marshal
told David Hume how a friend of his, recognizing the Pretender, spoke to
him: "Your Royal Highness is the last of all mortals I should have
expected to see here." "It was curiosity that led me," replied the
visitor, who had come from Flanders to see the coronation; "but I assure
you that the person who is the object of all this pomp and magnificence
is the man I envy the least."
One of the first official acts of the King was to give his assent in
person to an act imposing an additional duty on heavy ales and beer, but
what anger this Bill evoked was directed against Bute, while the chorus
of praise that greeted the King's next move was given to him alone,
though it also was inspired by the favourite. After the Revolution,
judges held their offices for the reign of the sovereign who appointed
them, but at Bute's instigation a bill was introduced to secure their
posts to them for life. This was regarded as a most gracious and
constitutional measure, though according to Nicholls it was nothing of
the sort. "The courtiers of George III have trumpeted this conduct as a
singular mark of George III's disposition to diminish his power; but in
fact George III increased his power by this measure: having no dislike
to those whom he found in office, he had renewed their commissions. By
the statute which he thus procured to be enacted, he rendered those
judges whom he might appoint, irremovable by his successor; and thus,
instead of diminishing his power he increased it."[144] Indeed, even as
regards the graciousness of the act, a different complexion is placed
upon it by the same authority, who said it was devised "by those who had
most influence over the King" and desired to throw reproach on George
II, who on his accession had not granted commissions to those judges who
had offended him during his father's lifetime when he was in
opposition.[145] Johnson thought it a most impolitic measure. "There is
no reason," he said, "why a judge should hold his office for life more
than any other person in public trust. A judge may be partial otherwise
than to the Crown: we have seen judges partial to the populace. A judge
may be corrupt, and yet there may be no legal evidence against him. A
judge may become froward in age. A judge may grow unfit for his office
in many ways. It was desirable that there should be a possibility of
being delivered from him by a new king."[146] As a matter of fact, there
is no doubt that the measure was devised for popularity, and in this it
certainly succeeded.
[144] Nicholls: _Recollections and Reflections_.
[145] _Ibid._
[146] Boswell: _Life of Samuel Johnson_.
The favour the King thus won in the eyes of his subjects was later
increased by his surrendering, on Bute's advice, L700,000, the money
from the prizes taken before the declaration of war, which, by the Peace
of Paris, became the King's property; L200,000, the value of lands in
the ceded islands; and by his acceptance of the fixed income of
L800,000, to be paid out of the aggregate fund in lieu of the uncertain
funds which then made up the Civil List.[147] Yet another thing
contributed to the King's popularity, for, when, as the law then stood,
Parliament dissolved six months after the royal demise, it became known
that George III had instructed his ministry that no money should be
spent in endeavours to secure the election of members favourable to the
Court, saying "I will be tried by my country"--a sentence that was
commemorated by an obscure rhymester.
"Tried by your country! To your people's love,
Amiable prince, so soon appeal;
Stay till the tender sentiments improve,
Ripening to gratitude from zeal.
Years hence (yet, ah! too soon) shall Britain see
The trial of thy virtue past;
Who could believe that your first wish would be
What all believe will be your last."[148]
[147] "The hereditary revenues, being put under the same management as
the other branches of the public patrimony, will produce more and be
better collected than heretofore; and the public is a gainer of upwards
of L100,000 per annum by this disinterested bounty of his
Majesty."--Blackstone's _Commentaries_.
[148] _The New Foundling Hospital for Wit._
A rift in the lute showed itself very soon, for almost immediately after
the accession of George III, the ascendancy of Lord Bute was displayed
in so many ways that it became obvious to all observers. There was some
surprise when the name of the Duke of Cumberland was struck out of the
liturgy, and a great deal of indignation when the favourite was made
Ranger of Richmond Park in the place of Princess Amelia, who, Huish
says, "was literally turned out;" but the indignation of the latter was
certainly misplaced, for the Princess resigned the post as the result of
a quarrel about a right of way with the townsfolk of Richmond. From the
beginning of the new reign the City of London was suspicious of Lord
Bute, and that powerful corporation was at no pains to disguise its
feelings. "The City have a mind to be out of humour; a paper has been
fixed in the Royal Exchange with these words--'No Government! No Scotch
Minister! No Lord George Sackville'[149]--two hints totally unfounded,
and the other scarce true. No petticoat ever governed less; it is left
at Leicester House--for the King himself, he seems all good nature, and
wishing to satisfy everybody; all his speeches are obliging. I saw him
on the throne, where he's all graceful and genteel; sits with dignity,
and reads his answers to addresses well."[150] So Horace Walpole wrote
early in November, 1760; but it must be admitted that that usually keen
observer did not display his usual prescience, for the "Scotch Minister"
might have been sighted on the political horizon.
[149] George Sackville Germaine (1716-1785), son of the seventh Earl and
first Duke of Dorset, was known from 1720 to 1770 as Lord George
Sackville, and from then as Lord George Germaine, until 1782, when he
was raised to the peerage as Viscount Sackville.
[150] Walpole: _Memoirs of George II_.
Indeed, almost at once negotiations were set on foot to place Bute at
the head of affairs. "Lord Bute came to me by appointment, and stayed a
gre
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