Текст книги "The Prince and the Quakeress "
Автор книги: Jean Plaidy
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‘They are searching for you. There’s a great stir among the Society of Friends.’
Hannah grew pale. ‘They may have followed thee here...’
‘Not they! I was careful. Never fear that I would lead them to you, Hannah. I was questioned: "Where is she?" "What do you know?" Mr. H. came to my rescue. He swore I knew nothing...and they couldn’t go against a girl’s husband, could they? He knows which side his bread’s buttered. We shall soon have our own shop, think of that. And all due to Mr. H.’s clever wife. So you can rely on him...and me...me for friendship, Hannah, as well as the money. That’s why I came to tell you that you must be careful. I’m to be the go-between...and I’m to be careful, they tell me. If there’s anything you have to know, I shall be bringing you news of it. And now I’ve got to tell you, Hannah, that they are all searching. Isaac, he was near demented. "Where is my wife Hannah?" he kept asking, and he was running through the streets looking into carriages.’
‘Oh dear,’ cried Hannah aghast.
‘You have become important,’ chortled Jane. ‘A cause célèbre. “Where is the fair Quaker of St. James’s Market?” everyone is asking.’
‘They must not find me, Jane. They must not.’
‘Of course they mustn’t. And they never shall.’
Jane sat contentedly sipping her tea.
‘My, how I’ve come up in the world,’ she murmured. ‘Tea with a cause célèbre and my own mistress and all because of you, Hannah.’
Hannah could not share Jane’s pleasure. She was very uneasy.
• • •
Although the search went on and in the St. James’s Market area there was constant speculation about the disappearance of Hannah Axford, Lightfoot that was, Hannah continued to live without disturbance in her tall quiet house, visited frequently by her lover who became more and more devoted as the months passed.
George was happy: he constantly reminded himself that he considered himself married to Hannah, which was the only way in which he could enjoy such a connection. He had intended to marry Hannah; he would be faithful to Han and she to him.
There were very few people in the secret, but these he could trust. Elizabeth Chudleigh was one; she had been of great help to him and had shown him how to make this liaison possible. It had changed him from a careless boy to a man of responsibilities and if he still had to sit in a schoolroom and learn history and mathematics, in one phase of his life he was a man and this gave him confidence. There were two others with whom he shared that confidence and who in the family links were closer to him than any other; this was his brother Edward and his sister Elizabeth. Edward had declared that in Georges place he would have done exactly the same; in fact, Edward had applauded his brother and swore he would always support him.
So while George sat in the schoolroom and wrote his account of English history he was thinking of Hannah.
‘Charles I did not regard the laws of the land,’ he wrote, but violated them when they thwarted his interest or inclination.’ It was no way to rule; and Charles I had discovered that too late. It was something to remember.
George understood that he must prepare himself for king ship. The old King was growing more feeble every day, more irascible. It was said that one of these days the old man would go off when he was in one of his violent outbursts of temper; and when he does, thought George, I shall be King.
His mother was anxious about him. He loved her dearly; he admired Lord Bute as much as any man he knew; and both of them were constantly telling him: ‘You must learn to be a King.’
It was comforting to ride out to Hannah, to tell her of the ways of the Court, of the trouble in his household, of his mother and Lord Bute pulling against the tutors the King chosen for him.
‘I have two ambitions,’ he told Hannah, ‘to be a good King and to be a good husband to you.’
• • •
George was delighted to find that his dear friend Lord Bute did not blame him for his affair with Hannah.
‘It is natural that Your Highness should have a mistress,’ he explained. ‘You should feel no sense of guilt.’
‘But Hannah is not a mistress. I do want to make that clear.’
‘Of course not,’ soothed Lord Bute. ‘Do you not realize that I understand your feelings...perfectly.’
‘I knew you would if I had an opportunity to explain.’
‘Your Highness can always explain everything to me. Have I not always assured you that any skill I may have is at your disposal.’
‘You have...no one more.’
‘Then when you are in any difficulties I can expect you to come to me. Now that you are no longer a boy I can talk to you freely. There are two people whom you can trust: one is your mother; the other is myself.’
George nodded. ‘And fortunate I am to have you.’
‘I think of this nation and I can see no one who can care for you as your mother does. You have this delightful lady, your beautiful Quaker. She loves you as a wife but she knows nothing of the malice and intrigues which always surround a Court. Your mother does; and she is here to protect you. She wishes you well for your own sake. Others have interested views; they wish for riches or honours; they are ambitious not for your good or that of the country but for themselves. The advice they give you will be contaminated by these considerations. So her advice alone is the advice you should follow, for you will know it is given with your own good in mind solely, and for no other reason.’
‘I do know it; and I thank God for her care.’
‘I too care only for your good. You will find many to speak against me. They will try to represent me to you as a villain.’
‘I would not believe them.’
‘You say that now; but some are skilful. I am certain that in the future, when you are King of this realm, attempts will be made to vilify me. They will use all their arts to turn you. If they do you will be ruined.’
‘I know this. I know it well. I am young. I am without experience and I want advice now and shall in the future. I trust you as I trust no other man.’
‘If you failed to trust me I should contemplate leaving the country.’
‘I beg of you do not speak so. I need your friendship. I am so young and I know so little.’
‘If you married you would not feel the need of my friendship so strongly.’
‘I am married...and I still feel it.’
‘There will come a time when you will have to make a state marriage...’ began Bute tentatively.
‘How can that be when I am married already?’
‘When you are King it will be necessary for you to marry a Princess, to give the country heirs...’
George shook his head and looked stubborn. Trouble here, thought Bute; but he is only sixteen. Give him a chance to grow weary of the Quaker adventure.
He spread his hands. ‘It will be for you to decide,’ he said comfortingly. ‘And you know that I shall always be ready to advise in any problem. I trust that you will always come first to me, Sir, or to your mother.’
‘I shall. I shall insist that everyone accepts you as the Friend of the Family. My dear friend will always mean more to me than the crown itself. I need you now, but I shall need you more when the crown is mine. You must never think of leaving me.’
Bute took the Prince’s hand and kissing it, swore he would not.
Shortly afterwards he was repeating this conversation to the Princess.
‘I feel we have lost nothing through this affair of the Quaker,’ said Bute.
‘But I shall never forget that he acted without consulting me,’ replied the Princess.
‘It was natural that he should not consult his mother about his mistress. Rest happy. He is more devoted to us than ever before; and as long as we do not try to separate him from his mistress he is ours to command. Trust me, my dearest, this little affair of his is no bad thing.’
The Princess nodded. She could always rely on dear Lord Bute to comfort her.
• • •
George, the King, was in a testy mood. Nothing was going well in the country—discord at home and defeats abroad. He was beginning to suspect that Newcastle was not the best man for his post and that Pitt would be an improvement. Pitt was a man of war, but perhaps what the country needed at this time was a man of war. Pitt...an outsider and a master of oratory! His brilliance in that direction had caused Robert Walpole some misgivings. Oh, the days of Sir Robert, when Caroline was alive and the three of them had conferred together! Everything was so much easier then. Sir Robert was a man of genius and he, the King, had known how to bring out the best in that genius; and Caroline was always there to support him. No woman worthy to unlatch her shoe, thought the King sentimentally, forgetting to remember that he loved her so much more since she was dead than he had when she was alive. He had always been so devoted to her when he was away from home; he had regularly written to her letters twenty or thirty pages long, quite often about his affairs with other women, asking her advice, explaining their particular accomplishments in the bedchamber. She had never shown any resentment. A remarkable woman. No one worthy to buckle her shoes.
But now she was dead, and there was Newcastle making his insufficiencies apparent every day and Pitt clamouring to take office and Henry Fox standing by, cunning as his name implied. Pitt and Fox...good men both. Pitt had integrity; he knew that; and men of integrity were as rare as they were valuable; and Fox, well since he had married Richmond’s daughter he was wealthy and he did not have to rely on his position in politics. Security could make a man honest. Perhaps Pitt and Fox provided the answer.
And there was one other the very mention of whose name made the veins stand out at the King’s temples: Bute. But could not ignore him because of the power he wielded at Leicester House. Was it true that he was the Princess’s lover? Of course it was true. One only had to see the pair together to know that they were cooing like a pair of turtle doves. The Princess doted on Bute as she never had on Fred. He didn’t blame her there. Married to Fred, poor woman; anyone who married Fred would have his sympathy. And Fred was gone and she was free, so let her have a little fun, poor woman. But she was not going to put Bute into his government while he lived. And when he had gone...Ah, then Bute would be there; she would see to that. He was installed there in her household as though he were young George’s father—and he behaved as such, by all accounts. And young George accepted him!
And what was all this talk about a Quaker? The young puppy must have a mistress, one supposed. But why couldn’t he choose one from his own or his mother’s household or even the King’s household, come to that? Why must the young fool go sniffing round Markets?
It was because he was concerned about his grandson that the King had sent for him, and the boy had come down to Hampton and was waiting to be called in. All right, let him come.
The King was standing with his back to the door looking out of the window at the craft on the river when the Prince entered.
The King turned slowly. So this was his grandson, Fred’s boy. The King frowned. He was tall, and George II had always disliked tall men because they reminded him of his own lack of inches, something which all his life had irritated him. Now the Prince of Wales stood there, tall and gangling, not making the most of his height which irritated the King as much as his having it.
‘Well?’ barked the King.
‘You...Your Majesty sent for me.’
‘Don’t stammer. Never could abide it. Now...what’s all this, we hear. Abducting Quaker girls from Markets. By God, what do you think you are? A dashing young gallant, I suppose. But let me tell you this, you young puppy, you are the Prince of Wales and are not expected to behave like some ninny on a theatre stage.’
This was spoken in French so fast that the Prince could scarcely keep up with it. He realized to his dismay that he was expected to reply in the same language.
‘Well,’ went on the King, ‘what have you to say for yourself? Young Quaker girls! Why can’t you find a girl in one of the households? Why do you have to go prancing round Markets. Do you know there has been trouble. Enquiries made. Good respectable tradesmen looking for their girl. There has been a note delivered to the Secretary. Did you know that? Of course you didn’t, you young puppy. Not your job to know, you say. Yours is only to go sniffing round Markets.’
‘Sire...’ stammered George, and could go no farther.
‘So you’re dumb, are you? It’s time I took a hand with your education. That mother of yours...Women are no good at this sort of thing...except your grandmother. She was a woman who could do anything. No one worthy to unbuckle her shoes. I’ll speak to Waldegrave. This won’t do, you young puppy. It won’t do. Do you hear me? Then say something. Don’t stand there like a ninny!’
‘If Your Majesty would speak in English...’
A further offence. The Prince spoke perfect English. The King was not going to display his very imperfect brand.
‘Don’t tell me what to speak.’
‘Sire, I...I did not tell you...I...I…’
‘Stuttering ninny! Now what’s this about the Quaker girl? You send her back to her family and find a woman in your mother’s household...better there than your own.’
‘I...I must ask Your Majesty not to speak of...of this lady in this manner.’
‘So you are telling me how I should appeal to my subjects, are you?’
‘Your Majesty does not understand...’
‘Not understand. Look, you ninny, I had mistresses when I was your age. Don’t think you’re the first. But there are whores enough about you. You don’t want to go to Quakers for them.’
The Prince had turned pale. ‘I must ask Your Majesty not to speak of this lady in this way.’
‘I speak of my subjects as I please, boy.’
‘N...not of this one.’
If George had not drawn himself up to his full height the King might have laughed at him; but he did and he towered above his little grandfather so that the King had to look up to him.
‘Infernal puppy!’ shrieked the King, and bringing up his hand slapped the Prince so violently across the face that he reeled backwards. ‘Get out of my sight, whelp, idiot, puppy! Get out before I set the guards on you.’
The Prince stared at his grandfather, but the King, his face purple, shaking with rage, was on the point of calling the guard.
George stumbled out of the room, humiliated and angry. He never wanted to see the old man again; he never wanted to see Hampton again.
The guards smiled at each other as they watched the Prime stalk out of the palace to the river stairs and take boat to London.
Only the King quarrelling with the Prince of Wales…an old Hanoverian custom.
• • •
The King sent for Lord Waldegrave; he wanted to speak to him he said about that young puppy, the Prince of Wales. Waldegrave looked sad and the King nodded grimly.
‘I can see you have no great opinion of your pupil.’
‘I fear I shall never make a scholar of him, Sire.’
‘Scholar! Who wants a scholar? Don’t want the puppy bleating poetry all over the place. But the young fellow doesn’t seem to have any sense. That’s what I complain of.’
‘He is very slow, Your Majesty. I suppose he tries to learn, but it’s not easy for him.’
‘Lacks the intelligence, I suppose.’
‘Not a very good brain, Your Majesty.’
‘I know...I know. Takes after his father. A stupid ass, that was Fred. And it seems this one’s the same. Fred’s mother...’ The King’s eyes were glazed with tender memories. ‘How different she was. I used to say to her: "You’re more like a schoolmarm than a Queen." If she were here now. There’s not a woman worthy to unbuckle her shoes, Waldegrave.’
Waldegrave successfully managed to stifle a yawn. The eulogy on the late Queen—whom the King had delighted to humiliate during her lifetime—would go on for precisely five minutes and Waldegrave knew it almost off by heart. One virtue the King possessed was his precision. He was always accountable. He was as regular as a clock in his habits. There were people at Court who remembered how he used to walk up and down outside his mistress’s door, his watch in his hand, so that he could call on her at precisely the time he had set himself to do so. He would leave at the arranged time also. The joke at Court was that he made love by the clock.
So Waldegrave waited while he delivered his speech on the virtues of the Queen. The King wiped his eyes at the end as he always did. Waldegrave wondered mildly whether Madame Walmoden had to listen to a recital of the late Queen’s virtues before getting into bed with her lover. He hoped so. Caroline deserved that small consideration after all the accounts she had had to listen to of his affairs with other women.
The King had finished with his Queen and was now ready to get to the business for which he had summoned Waldegrave.
‘So you find the young puppy no good at his lessons?’
‘He’s not lazy, Sire, perhaps it’s an inability to learn. Sometimes I think he tries.’
‘H’m,’ grunted the King. ‘He’s a brainless whelp. Am’ course, his mother keeps him under her thumb and that prize stallion of hers too, I doubt not. Between them the pair hope to turn out a nice little wooden doll, who’ll nod when they say nod and shake when they say shake. That’s it, eh, Waldegrave?’
It was not the sort of agreement one gave even to the King, so Waldegrave contented himself with smiling at His Majesty.
‘Oh, I know, I know. And now I hear the boy has a mistress. A young Quaker, they tell me.’
‘There is a rumour to that effect, Sire.’
‘Quakers,’ mused the King. ‘Their women are thin. I never fancied thin women, Waldegrave.’
No need to mention that, thought Waldegrave. Your Majesty has made that perfectly obvious.
‘And he’s not content with choosing a nice plump woman of the Court. He must go for this thin Quaker and snatch her from her husband almost at the altar. What do you think of that, Waldegrave? I’d never have believed it of the puppy, that I wouldn’t.’
‘It is said that His Highness was aided in the matter.’
‘Some interfering scoundrels, I am sure. Ha! And that mother of his none too pleased—nor the Scottish stallion either, eh? I hear they knew nothing about it until it was over. Is that true do you think, Waldegrave?’
‘I think so, Your Majesty.’
The King was in a sudden good humour at the thought.
‘Well, well,’ he went on, ‘it’s time we mated the puppy. That much is clear.’
‘Your Majesty has someone in mind?’
‘When I was last in Hanover I looked around. The Duchess of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel brought her two girls to see me.’
‘And Your Majesty liked what you saw?’
The King licked his lips significantly. ‘So much, Waldegrave, that if I’d been twenty years younger I’d have married the elder of the girls myself and that would still have left the younger for my grandson.’
He shaped the outline of a generously formed female shape with his hands.
‘Charming young girls, Waldegrave. Charming.’
‘Well then, Your Majesty, since you feel the time has come...’
‘How old is he? Sixteen, seventeen? In a year or so, I think, Waldegrave.’
‘Your Majesty will wish the Princess Dowager to be informed.’
‘H’m. Wait a bit. But I think we should give thought to these matters. It’s time the young puppy was mated. Quakers!’
• • •
When the Princess Augusta heard of the rumours she was infuriated.
She paced up and down her apartment and her lover had difficulty in pacifying her. ‘Do you think that old scoundrel would dare bring one of those Wolfenbüttel girls over here without consulting me?’
‘Surely not,’ soothed Bute; although he believed the old scoundrel capable of doing anything.
‘I will not have one of those girls for my daughter-in-law. I detest their old mother. She is the most unattractive woman I ever knew, and the girls will take after her. George is too young to marry. And I will not have one of those girls here.’
‘You might find that you liked the girl when you met her. She might not take after her mother; but of course I agree that George is too young to marry.’
‘He will come of age when he is eighteen and that is not far off. He will have to marry then; but it will not be one of those Wolfenbüttel girls. Their mother is the most meddling, intriguing woman you can imagine. The father was all right...but like as not the girls will take after their mother. When George marries I should like him to choose someone from the Saxe-Gotha family—my own.’
‘It would be ideal, of course.’
‘Well, since the old scoundrel has his eyes on Wolfenbüttel perhaps he could be looking towards Saxe-Gotha.’
‘Our best plan would be to make George understand that he must never accept one of those girls whose mother you so dislike. Shall I sound him? Perhaps you could follow on from there.’
She pressed his hand. ‘As always you provide the answer.’
• • •
Bute found George in the schoolroom, his brow furrowed as he tried to understand the different methods of taxation which had been applied through the various preceding reigns and the measure of their success. He was very pleased to be interrupted.
‘I thought you would wish to know that the King is thinking of marrying you off.’
George turned pale. ‘It cannot be!’
‘Certainly not to the woman of the King’s choice.’
‘So he has chosen?’
Bute nodded slowly. ‘He has decided on either Sophia Caroline or Anna Amelia of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel. You are to pick which you prefer.’
‘I cannot marry.’
‘So your mother thinks. She has the strongest objections to either of these young females.’
‘It would not matter who they were. I consider myself married already.’
Bute nodded sympathetically. So the boy was still held in the Quaker web. But give him a little time.
‘Do not be unduly alarmed. I am sure that if you firmly decide not to be forced into marriage by your grandfather will stay free.’
‘You will help?’
‘Have I not sworn always to do so?’
‘Oh, thank you...thank you. I don’t know what I should do without you.’
‘Why should you?’ Bute laughed breezily. When you are King all you will have to do is to make me your chief minister and I shall always be at your side.’
‘Of course, that is what I intend to do.’
Oh, triumph! thought Bute. If you could hear that Newcastle...Pitt...Fox...you would shiver with apprehension. The old man cannot last much longer surely. And then this boy will be King and that means that I and the Princess will in fact rule this land. What a dazzling prospect for an ambitious man!
‘I shall keep Your Majesty to that.’ Spoken playfully to hide the sealing of a promise beneath a jocular guise.
‘Oh hush! Remember the King still lives.’
‘God save the King!’ cried Bute, and whispered: ‘And in particular His Majesty King George III.’
George smiled faintly and was immediately anxious. ‘So you understand that I could not consider marriage...any marriage. I am morally bound to Hannah. I want no one else.’
‘I understand. But have no fear. The King may attempt to force this marriage on you, but we will stand firm. He needs the consent of Parliament, and members will be afraid to give that consent, if you are firm enough. They remember that his star is setting and yours is about to rise. You must remember it, too. Do not give way easily to anything. Stand firm. Remember that any day you could become King.’
‘I do not like my grandfather. He is a disagreeable man and since he struck me I fear I can never feel what I ought towards him. But I do not care to speak of him as a dead man when he is still alive. He has as much right to live as I have...that is how I see it.’
‘A right and noble sentiment worthy of Your Maj...Your Highness. But I am warning you. Stand firm. Declare your refusal to take one of these girls and your grandfather is powerless.’
‘How can I thank you!’
‘Oh,’ laughed Bute. ‘Don’t forget the promises you have made to me.’
‘I swear I never will.’
Bute was able to tell the Princess that he had persuaded the Prince to stand out against the Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel proposition.
‘We have nothing to fear from St. James’s Palace. The King will see that he cannot rule the Prince from there. We are his guardians—and we must see that it remains so.’
• • •
The King’s face was purple with rage.
‘So the puppy won’t be bewolfenbüttled, he says. I’ll teach him whether to defy me. I say he shall be bewolfenbüttled, and like it. I’ll have him yelping to me to hurry on the marriage, I promise you, Waldegrave. He doesn’t want to marry? Well, it is his duty to marry, and I am going to see he does his duty.’
‘Your Majesty, the Prince would have some support in Parliament.’
‘Support! What support?’
‘He is the Prince and he has his following. His mother’s friends would be ready to uphold him.’
‘Who is she? Fred’s widow. I am the King of this country and I’ll be obeyed.’
This was a difficult task, Waldegrave realized; and he secretly thought that the sooner he was released from his position of tutor to the Prince of Wales and chief King’s spy in the Princess’s household the better.
‘If a vote were taken on the matter of the Prince’s marriage the result might well be in his favour.’
‘But I say he shall marry the girl. He’s no longer a boy. He’s proved that, hasn’t he? Sniffing round Markets! If his grandmother were alive. Ah, there was a woman...’
Waldegrave allowed his mind to wander for five minutes. The King must be made to see that he could not force the Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel marriage just yet. The Prince was only seventeen. It was another year before he would officially come of age. The old King was well over seventy; everyone had expected him to die at least ten years ago. He could not last much longer; in fact, when he went into one of his frequent rages they expected him to have an apoplectic fit on the spot. With the purple colour in his cheeks, his prominent eyes bulging and veins knotting at his temples he really looked as though he were on the verge of a stroke. And there was young George, seventeen years old, with his fresh pink skin and his blue eyes almost as prominent as his grandfather’s but placid, and the same heavy jaw, though in his case, sometimes sullen, where the King’s was more likely to be bellicose.
How could Waldegrave explain to the King that ambitious ministers would be more likely to support the young man who must certainly ascend the throne in a few years’ time rather than an old one who must most certainly soon leave it.
But perhaps the King saw that, for when he had finished the five minute eulogy on the dead Queen, he said: ‘I heard a rumour that that woman has her eyes on Saxe-Gotha. I tell you this Waldegrave, there’ll be no Saxe-Gotha woman for my grandson. I’ll not have our family tainted by that lot. And I’ll tell you this too, Waldegrave: there’s madness there. I shall stand firmly against any of her plots in that direction. No Saxe-Gotha here. Do you understand?’
Waldegrave replied that he understood His Majesty perfectly.
No Saxe-Gotha! And no Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel either.
The marriage of the Prince of Wales was satisfactorily shelved for a while.
• • •
The King was alarmed. Foreign affairs were at a very low ebb. England’s place in the world was insignificant. There was one man who railed against this with a passionate fury so intense that it had impressed the King. He thought a great deal about William Pitt. There was a man who impressed him deeply. Pitt was a man of words—the finest orator of his day. He could turn a phrase and bring tears to the eyes; he could present an argument and convince.
When he had been young and lusty the King had preferred to live in Hanover rather than in England; but when had been a still younger man he had professed a great love for England but that was only because his father had hated it and he automatically loved all that his father hated. In the days when he had first come to England with Caroline he used to say: ‘If you vould vin my favour call me an Englishman.’ He had always spoken in English then–with a marked German accent, of course—but that was because his father George I had refused to learn a word of the language. But when he became King he felt it undignified to speak a language which his subjects spoke so much better, and everyone about him had to speak in French or German. Then, of course, he had made several attempts to sacrifice England to Hanover which Sir Robert Walpole had prevented.
But that was the past. He was an old man—he was a vain old man—and no King, particularly one who has always made a semblance of virtue, wanted to leave his country in a worse state than that in which he found it.
‘If Valpole vere here,’ he mused, lapsing into English. If my dear Caroline vere here...’
Those days were past and Newcastle was no Walpole. But there was Pitt.
He thought of Pitt. The orator, the man of war, who deplored the desultory state of Britain’s arms. Pitt had grandiose schemes. He talked of Empire—and by God, how he talked! No one could talk like Mr. Pitt. He could make people see a country astride the world, leading the world, in wealth, in commerce. That was Mr. Pitt’s dream of England, and he wanted a chance to make it become a reality.
He was called a war-monger. Such men always were. Did am man think that great rewards could be gained without effort. If so, that man was a fool.
The King decided to send for Mr. Pitt.
In the presence of such a man even a King must feel insignificant. George usually hated to feel insignificant; that was why he never liked tall men. But this was different. George was not thinking so much of the King of England as of England itself. Some instinct told him that Mr. Pitt was the man; and if he were tall of stature, imposing in personality, on this occasion, so much the better.
His manner was deferential—almost servile—another quality which pleased the King. There was nothing arrogant about this man in the presence of royalty, although he could be haughty enough with those whom he considered beneath him. He was vain in the extreme; he held himself erect; he had a little head, thin face and long aquiline nose, heavy lidded eyes...hawk’s eyes. He was like an actor on a stage, thought the King; he might have stepped right out of a play; and when he spoke it might have been Garrick or Quin speaking; the beautiful cadences of his magnificent voice filled the apartment and demanded respect.
