Текст книги "Queen in Waiting "
Автор книги: Jean Plaidy
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It was what she longed for—to be ^he Queen. Her first command would be that Fritzchen be brought to England. She would also send for Leibniz. What pleasure to have him here! How he would enjoy talking to the brilliant men with whom she was filling her court!
That was what she needed for complete happiness. In the meantime it was pleasant here at Hampton, sitting in the pleasant warmth of late summer. Late summer alas! She would always remember this summer as the happiest she had known since the death of Sophia Charlotte—and it was passing for the warm days were already growing sadly short; soon they would leave Hampton for St. James's ... and the King could not stay away for ever.
Townsend was saying: "I greatly fear that England will be drawn into war. The people of this country do not want war. They hate war. It means to them death and taxation ... and no gain. What gain would there be for us in war? Of course there might be some gain to Hanover. But the people of this country can hardly be expected to make sacrifices for Hanover."
"They should not be asked to," replied Caroline quickly.
Townsend drew a deep breath. Were those the Prince's views? he wondered.
Caroline seemed to sense his thoughts for she added: "The Prince and I vould be strongly against this country making the sacrifice for Hanover. Hanover cannot expect it."
"Hanover does expect. The King and his German ministers are of the opinion that England and Hanover should stand as one."
"That," said Caroline with a laugh, "is a Hanoverian view and not, I believe an English one."
"Your Highness is right. But.. /'
"A strong opposition in England vould mean that this could not be/'
"It is the wish of the King and many of his Hanoverian ministers. But... what of the Prince?"
"I believe the Prince, nay I am sure the Prince vould not agree to his father. My lord, you vill know that there is hardly von matter on vich they agree. And certainly it vould not be this von."
Townsend was alert. If he could get the Prince of Wales to support him, if here with the Prince and Princess he could build up a strong opposition to those who could put Hanover before England, he might get his way and remain in office.
"If I could speak to the Prince..."
"He vill be delighted to giv you von audience."
"And Your Highness will be present?"
Caroline smiled. This was what she had always wanted. She would prepare the Prince who would be only too eager to intrigue against his father. Nothing would delight him more; and it would not be difficult for her to guide him along the way she wanted him to go.
She noticed that the Count von Bothmer was talking to Lord Hervey. The German made a point of attending any gathering at which she or the Prince were present. The King should have chosen a less obvious spy. But they must be careful. If the King knew that the Prime Minister was conferring with her and the Prince, surely he would realize the need for returning to England at once.
She said: "I vould like to hear some singing. Mrs. Bellenden has the voice tres charmante, Mrs. Howard, I pray you tell Mrs. Bellenden I vould hear her sing. And perhaps aftervards Lord Hervey would recite to us some of his verses."
Townsend bowed and said he would acquaint Lord Hervey with Her Highness's wishes.
He understood perfectly why she had interrupted their conversation. Bothmer would undoubtedly report what he had seen to his master.
The Prime Minister was uneasy. The Prince of Wales could have little power while his father lived. But of course the King
was not a young man—and in the political field it was often necessary to take risks.
The Prince watching Mary Bellenden sing, thought: This is the most beautiful girl at court 1
She had spirit ... too much spirit. He would have preferred her docile, eager, very honoured to be noticed by the Prince of Wales.
Alas, she was not so. Sometimes her eyes flashed scornfully and he wondered why he pursued her. She was tall and slender —not plump and rounded. She was very English.
It is the English I love best in the world, thought George Augustus, as though repeating a lesson.
In the streets people sang verses about her. The beautiful Mary Bellenden and the fair Molly Lepel were rivals for beauty. But give him Mary; and it would be right and proper that either one of the reigning beauties should be his mistress. Could she not see that?
He hummed under his breath a song he had heard one of his gentlemen singing:
"What pranks are played behind the scenes, And who at Court the belle? Some swear it is the Bellenden. And others say Lepel."
I say the Bellenden! he thought.
He had betrayed his feelings for her and she was not the only one who was aware of them. It was undignified that the Prince of Wales's desires should go unsatisfied.
He had always believed though that in time she would be his mistress. She was no prude, so why delay? He could only think that like most of the people at Court she wanted something. And what could she want but money?
He knew she had her financial difficulties like most extravagant young ladies, for he had heard her complain of bills. He must therefore take an opportunity of letting her see that if she would become his mistress she would have so much money that
she need never be bothered by bills ... while she continued to please him.
Mary had finished signing and had gone to sit in an alcove in the pavilion with Margaret Meadows and Mrs. Clayton.
The Prince made his way by degrees to her corner, stopping to chat on the way, believing that by so doing he disguised his intention of singling out Mary.
When he reached the table at which she sat he beamed at the three of them.
"It vos von beautiful song," he said.
He sat down and took a purse from his pocket which he put on the table. The three stared at it in surprise. He emptied it of its guineas and began to count them.
"It seems I much money haf," he said with a smile, and gathering up the money put it back in the purse, jingling it while he smiled at Mary.
Mary however was looking beyond him as though she was quite unaware of what he was doing.
Molly Lepel had begun to sing at the Princess's request; there was silence at the table while the Prince continued to look expectantly at Mary; and Mary stared stonily ahead.
The Prince came to the Princess's apartments where she was resting on her bed. He waved away her women and going to the bed kissed her.
"It is goot that you rest," he said. "And how are you, my tear?"
"Veil, but shall be glad when the child comes. It is long waiting."
"You always have the difficult time. You are certain you have the right time? You were wrong before, remember."
"I'm sure of it. Cowper and Clayton have been bothering me. And Mrs. Howard too."
The Prince looked shocked at the mention of Henrietta.
"Oh, they serve me veil. They think I should have the doctor instead of the midvife."
"Instead of the midvife! A man! You could not, Caroline."
"No, I could not. They say that in France royal ladies have
accoucheurs instead of midvives. They say they have the skill ... and it is safer. But I shall have the midvife. I vould not vish for Sir David Hamilton to attend me."
"I should not vish either."
"I must scold these ladies."
"They do it for your good, but scold."
"I feel veil .. .very veil. And I vish to speak to you about the Prime Minister."
"Tell me."
"He vishes an audience. I believe he vould rather serve you than the King."
The Prince's eyes gleamed with pleasure.
"Of course you vill say ve must be careful," she said warn-ingly.
"Oh, ve must be careful."
"If the King hears that the Prime Minister talks business vith you he vill angry be. He vill come back from Hanover ... toutc dc suite.''
The Prince nodded; but there was triumph in his eyes.
"The weeks at Hampton have been so ivunderhar.'*
The Prince nodded.
"It has done me so much goot to see you. You have shown them what a King you vill be."
"And you a Queen."
She put her hands on her stomach. "Oh, I must bear the children.... That is for the vomen."
"But I vould always talk to you, Caroline. There is no von else I vould talk to as I do to you."
"You are so goot to me. Ve shall be careful with Townsend. Should ve send for him now? I vill dress and we can receive him in the Queen's gallery. Vould you give your consent to this?"
The Prince nodded eagerly.
"I believe the King is trying to make England declare war. Do you think that will be goot for England? Goot for Hanover yes, but vill it be goot for England? The people do not vant it. Do you think it would be goot for England to declare var vhile you are the guardian of the realm?"
"It would be bad. I vould not allow it."
*'I thought you vould not. I vill summon my women and join you in the Queen's gallery. I vill have vord sent to Towns-end that he is to come there."
Caroline, in a long robe which did its best to disguise her advanced state of pregnancy, walked up and down the gallery between the Prince and the Prime Minister.
Townsend was saying: "The English will never willingly go to war for the sake of Hanover."
"They must never do so," replied the Prince.
"I am glad of Your Highness's support," replied Townsend, "for the Cabinet are of your opinion. It was against my advice that we sent a squadron to the Baltic. This was said to protect our trade but our trade was in no real need of protection. It was meant to protect Bremen and Verden ... for the sake of Hanover."
"Hanover must fight her own battles," said the Prince.
"The King does not think so."
"The King is von fool," reorted the Prince.
Both Caroline and the Prime Minister lowered their eyes.
"I repeat... von fool," went on George Augustus. "He must be to prefer Hanover to England. But then he is not English ... as I am..."
"As ve both are," added the Princess.
The Prince smiled across at her. "Yes, all things English ve love."
"There are new propositions from Hanover," said Towns-end. "I do not agree with them and I should like to know that I have Your Highness's support in refusing them."
"You have my support if it is for England's goot. I vould never put Hanover before England."
"Veil spoken," murmured Caroline; and again he smiled at her.
"Denmark offers Bremen and Verden to Hanover on the condition that England declares war on Sweden and pays to Denmark £150,000."
"And vat goot vill this bring to Englandt?" asked the Prince excitedly.
"No good to England, but Hanover will get Bremen and Verden, of course."
"And Englandt would be at var with Sveden and Russia," added Caroline quietly.
"It shall not be!" cried the Prince clenching his fist, while the veins at his temples became swollen.
"I am delighted to have Your Highness's support in this as I intend to place Stanhope's proposals before the Cabinet. I can assure you they will be rejected ... particularly in view of the fact that we have Your Highness's support."
The Prince was delighted. When the Prime Minister consulted him he was truly playing the King.
The golden September days were passing. Each day Caroline wondered whether there would be news of the King's return. But he stayed on in Hanover and left them free to enjoy the blessing of his absence.
To the Prince's great joy, Townsend, with whom he was now on excellent terms, suggested that he make a tour of the countryside. He had seen little of England, except during his journey from the coast to London on his arrival and the English liked to see their sovereigns.
Townsend was already talking to him as though he were the King and he was thinking of himself as such.
The Prince immediately began making his preparations.
"There is but von thing that grieves me," he said. "You, my tear, vill not come vith me."
"You vill manage very veil on your own," Caroline told him.
"It vould have been happier for me if I could have had my tear vife beside me."
"I shall be thinking of you ... all the time. And you see I am in no condition to come vith you."
"Take care of yourself. I vill give Mrs. Howard very special instructions."
"You need not. She is the best of vomen."
The Prince smiled at her gratefully. It seemed there was nothing to spoil his pleasure.
And what joy it was to travel through the countryside of Hampshire, Sussex and Kent where the people lined the roads to cheer him as he rode by and he told himself and his attendants that he would never tire of smiling for the English people.
To signal his approach bonfires were lighted all along his route and girls with flowers and leaves came out to dance in his path. At Portsmouth he was entertained at military as well as naval reviews. He went aboard the finest of the ships and guns were fired in his honour.
His eyes shining with sentiment, he told those who welcomed him that he had never been so happy in his life. He loved England; he loved the English people; he was English; he would not have it otherwise. Every drop of blood in his veins was English; he had inherited it through his grandmother.
He would never willingly leave England; the best and lovingest people in the world were the English.
He loved the English and the English loved him.
He was different from his dour old father, said the people; let that old fellow stay in Germany with his Maypole and Elephant, let him stuff himself with sausages and sauerkraut. His son was quite different. He was English, although he spoke with an atrocious German accent. He was one of them because he was determined to be.
So the bonfires were lighted; and the people sang and danced; and the theme of the day was "God Bless the Prince of Wales".
October was well advanced by the time he returned in triumph to Hampton. He found Caroline delighted to see him, eager to hear of his triumphs; but although she was more heavily pregnant than ever, there was no sign that her confinement was imminent.
Bothmer sat in his apartments writing to the King, to Berns-torff and to Robethon.
"The Prince," he wrote, "has become the King. The Prime Minister confers with him. Townsend has in fact become his
man. His Highness has just returned to Hampton from a royal progress through Hampshire, Kent and Sussex. He is treated as the ruler of the realm."
Caroline was delighted and yet apprehensive. The more popular the Prince became the more determined the King would be to suppress him. Their only hope to go on living this delightful existence was for the King to discover that he loved Hanover so much he would stay there.
She believed there might be a faint possibility that he would. She prayed that it might come true. But while his father lived George Augustus could not be King. Still, to live as pleasantly as they had been living for this wonderful summer would be very delightful while they waited.
Yet as the days grew sb.orter her apprehension grew. There were no longer charming afternoons in the pavilion. The wind was too chilly. Walks had to be taken early in the afternoon if she was to be back in her apartments by dusk. It was not so exciting playing cards by candle-light as in the fresh air.
It cannot go on, of course, she thought sighing.
News came from Hanover which saddened her.
Leibniz had approached the King and begged leave to come to England and this had been curtly refused. Poor Leibniz! He had been unpopular enough in the past but he was more so now. Then he had merely been disliked as a man of intellect and a friend of the Princess's, when the King had considered her to be an unimportant woman whose only function was to bear children. Now he would know that she was not so stupid. Bothmer would have reported how Townsend had first approached her; and she would have her full share of the King's animosity.
Leibniz had not been wise to approach the King at such a time.
"The King has been so incensed by what was happening at home," she read, "that he could not endure to look on Leibniz who has always been a supporter of the Princess of Wales. He turned his back on him and in consequence
of this action Leibniz had no alternative but to leave court."
Poor lonely old Leibniz, whose only fault was that he was loyal to his old pupil and that he was a man of wit and understanding! So he had gone to his home in Hanover and lived there. He had left Court for ever and he despaired of ever coming to England.
Caroline pictured him, thinking of all those talks he had had with the Electress Sophia when she had embued him with her love of a country neither of them had ever seen.
He was heartbroken—deprived of his work, deprived of his friends, despised because he had a good brain and liked to use it.
Could a man die of a broken heart? Perhaps, thought Caroline, for Leibniz had died in Leibnizhaus, his house in Han-ver, and had been buried quietly, for the King had had no wish that he should be remembered.
"He was buried," ran the letter, "more like a robber than an ornament to his country."
Dear Leibniz who had tutored her, who had reproved her, and who had loved her!
It was another link with the old life broken; and at the same time it was an evil augury for the future.
George was harsh to those he believed did not serve him well. So poor Leibniz had suffered.
How much more harsh he would be to those who had deliberately flouted him—his own son and daughter-in-law I What would happen when he returned? That was what Caroline wondered as she sat awaiting the first signs of her child's arrival on those rapidly shortening days.
The crimson-decked barge made its way slowly up the river. On the banks the people cheered while the Prince, his hand on his heart, bowed and smiled, and the Princess, who looked as though she might give birth at any moment, sat back, with smiles as gracious as those of the Prince. The young Princesses, Anne, Amelia and Caroline, were with their mother and there was a special cheer for them; and on the elaborately decorated barge it was possible to catch a glimpse of those rival beauties.
Molly Lepel and Mary Bellenden, and of Sophie Howes of whom many verses had been written, of Henrietta Howard, the Prince's mistress, who was on the best of terms with the Princess, and of other personalities of the Court.
If the last month had been a foretaste of what the future reign would be like the people certainly would not mourn the passing of George I.
Caroline was a little sad. She had wanted to lie in at Hampton but Townsend had warned her that the child she was going to bear could be an heir to the throne, and heirs to the throne were not born at Hampton. The last thing Caroline wanted to do was ignore English custom, so regretfully she gave up the idea of staying at Hampton, and she could not throw off this feeling of sadness because she knew that when she left the Thames-side mansion, with its scarlet-bricked walls and its magnificent state apartments, and most delightful of all its gardens with its fountains and flowers, its greens and pavilions, its wilderness and maze, she was leaving more than a country house. This was the end of a phase—the most delightful phase of her life.
Moreover she felt ill, for a few weeks before she had almost miscarried. She wanted children—many more—but the months of discomfort while she awaited their arrival were very trying.
So to London and St. James's, and soon she hoped her child would be born.
I shall feel better then, she promised herself. More ready to face the storm which will inevitably come when the King returns.
A week after the royal party had returned to St. James's Palace, on a dark November Sunday Caroline's pains started.
All through the day officials were arriving at the Palace and the Prince summoned certain members of the Cabinet that they might be present when the child was born.
The German midwife, who could speak no English, but whom the Prince had commanded to attend to his wife, was growing anxious. As the labour was going on and on and there
was no sign of the child, Mrs. Clayton and Lady Cowper were apprehensive.
"This is no ordinary confinement," said Mrs. Clayton.
"The Princess's are always difficult," Lady Cowper reminded her, "and for that reason it is folly to leave her in the hands of this old German woman."
"An old country midwife!" agreed Mrs. Clayton. "We should call Sir David Hamilton."
"I will speak to the Princess," said the forthright Lady Cowper.
She went into the apartment where Caroline was walking up and down clearly in great pain. With her was the old German woman who was obviously very worried.
"Your Highness, would you allow me to send for Sir David Hamilton?" asked Lady Cowper.
Caroline stopped in her perambulations and stared at Lady Cowper.
"For vat reason?"
"Your Highness may have need of him. He is a trained accoucheur."
"I do not vish a man to be here at this time," said the Princess.
"Your Highness ..."
But Caroline had turned away, but as Lady Cowper went to the door she gripped the bedpost in a spasm of fresh agony. The midwife was shaking her head and letting out a stream of German.
"This is folly," said Lady Cowper; and went back to consult with Mrs. Clayton.
"But if the Princess will not have a man to attend her confinement, what can we do?"
All through Monday and Tuesday the Princess continued in labour. She lay on her bed exhausted and still the child could not be brought forth.
"This is madness!" said Lady Cowper. "She cannot go on like this. Her life is in danger."
The Princess's ladies waited in their apartment for news.
terrified and tearful. Lady Cowper raged that she had never heard such folly. The Princess's life was in danger and the only one she would have to attend her was that old fool of a midwife.
Selecting one of the Princess's German attendants, the Countess of Biickeburg, Lady Cowper commanded that she go to the Prince and tell him that the Princess needed the expert attention of Sir David Hamilton and that he must be sent for without delay.
The Countess went to the Prince where he was waiting with his Council.
As he listened to her his face grew red with anger—and with fear.
How dared they suggest that all was not well. Life had become so good. He was treated as a King; he was popular; he had sliown himself to be a virile man. His wife was fruitful; he had a mistress. Very soon he would liave another for Mary Bellendcn would not hold out much longer. Everything was well.
"Nonsense," he said. "The Princess's confinements are al-vays like this. Ve alvays think the child vill come earlier . . . it is alvays so. She is veil ... veil ... I tell you."
The Countess retreated in haste and when she reported back to Lady Cowper, the latter with Mrs. Clayton to support her, decided that something would have to be done.
They were certain that the Princess's life was in danger.
Lady Cowper went into the lying-in chamber and called to the midwife.
"What is happening?" she demanded in German.
The old woman raised her eyes to the ceiling. "It is a difficult confinement... very difficult."
"And you are not competent enough to deal with it ... you know it."
"I do my best."
"Admit you're afraid."
"It's a difficult confinement."
*Go to the Prince and tell him you can't manage ... tell him you need help. Ask that a trained accoucheur be sent."
"It is a difficult confinement. The Princess's confinements are always difficult."
"And you are incompetent. I tell you this ... if the Princess miscarries you will be hanged by the neck until you're dead."
The midwife screamed and ran into the ante-room which was thronged with many people who stared at the screaming woman, not understanding a word of what she was saying.
The Prince and Townsend came hurrying into the room followed by several of the ministers who had assembled for the birth.
"What is wrong?" demanded the Prince.
The midwife burst out that she wanted to go away. She could not proceed when the ladies had threatened to hang her.
"Vat is this! " cried the Prince, his face purple with rage.
The midwife cried that she would not go near the lying-in chamber, for if the Princess miscarried they were going to hang her. She had done no harm. Was it her fault that the Princess's labours were difficult?
"Who says they will hang you?" yelled the Prince.
"The ladies ... all the ladies of the Princess. They say they will blame me because I am here and it should be Sir David Hamilton. They say they will kill me..."
In the lying-in chamber the Princess was moaning in her agony.
"You must go to her," said the Prince.
"No ... no ... I dare not. They are going to hang me. I will not stay to be hanged."
"The Princess needs you," said the Prince. "Oh, we know her labours are always difficult. Go in now and attend her."
The midwife went on screaming that she dared not for they were going to hang her. They had said she should have Sir David ... and they were going to hang the poor midwife.
The Prince shouted at the top of his voice. "Of this meddling I am sick. If anyvon meddles more I throw him out of this vindow."
There was silence in the room; the Prince's wig was awry his face a choleric purple, his eyes blazing with hot anger.
Both he and the Princess had decided she should not have a
man to attend her—trained accoucheur that he was. She should have the midwife, as Germans always had.
But the midwife was terrified. "They will hang me," she said.
Townsend took her by the arm. He could not speak German but he smiled at her reassuringly and tried to draw her towards the Princess's chamber. But she kept screaming that they were going to hang her.
Everyone gathered round her and began talking at once. German and English mingled; an effort was made to push the woman forward but she would only whimper that they were going to hang her.
A woman's voice was heard shouting above the noise.
"Will you come at once. The Princess is lying very still." There was a deep silence. Then the midwife forgot her fears. She ran into the lying-in chamber followed by the Prince and Townsend.
After five days of labour the Princess had at last given birth.
Her child—a boy—was born dead and she herself was critically ill.
Considering how near death she had been Caroline recovered quickly. Deeply she regretted that she had lost her child but she consoled herself that there would be others.
There was news from Hanover. The king was pleased with his grandson Frederick and had created him Duke of Gloucester.
All very well, thought Caroline, but when is he coming to England? Perhaps the boy would return with his grandfather. If that were so she might almost look forward to the King's return.
But whenever she thought of that—which could not now be far distant—she shivered with apprehension. What had been happening during his absence was almost an open declaration of war between them.
While she lay recovering from her ordeal Townsend came to see her.
The Prince was with her and as soon as the minister entered the apartment George Augustus dismissed their attendants, for
both he and Caroline saw at once that something was wrong,
Townsend lost no time in telling them.
**I am dismissed from office," he said. "On the King's orders. Stanhope is now Prime Minister."
"Dismissed! " cried the Prince.
"Townsend nodded. "Bothmer has been reporting to Hanover. The King does not approve of our friendship. It was the last straw when I asked that you might have special powers to open Parliament since he was so long away."
The Prince was speechless.
Caroline lay back on her pillows and thought: The battle has begun.
The King was coming back to England, and the Christmas celebrations had been soured by this knowledge. It could not be long now. The days of glory were coming to an end.
The Prince, clinging to power as long as possible, strutted in the Park reviewing the troops. He made more public appearances than ever, bowing, smiling, showing the people how he loved them; and his popularity was at its height. One early morning when a fire broke out near the Palace he rose from his bed and helped to put it out. Not content with that he sent money to people who had lost their homes. Everyone was talking of his bravery and consideration for his father's subjects; when the news that the mad man who had tried to shoot him at Drury Lane had made an attack on his warders in Newgate, the story of his courage was recalled.
"This is truly the Guardian of the Realm," said one newspaper.
The Prince was pleased and more able to live in the present than Caroline, who now fully recovered in health awaited the return of the King with grov/ing apprehension.
And one day at the end of January George I returned to England.
The Prince met him at Blackheath. When his coach came to a halt the Prince alighted and went to that of the King.
As a crowd had gathered to see the meeting the King could do nothing but alight.
They faced each other and embraced while the people cheered.
Then they got into the King's coach together as though they were the best of friends. But the Prince had caught the cold dislike in the eyes of his father.
They continued the journey to St. James's in stony silence.
The Fateful Christening
It was once more summer at Hampton Court. But how different was this summer from the last! There was common talk now of the Prince's Party and the King's Party and it was well known, not only at Court, but throughout the country that the King and his son were enemies.
The only way in which peace was maintained was by seeing that the Prince and the King were kept out of each other's way, and as they had no wish to see each other this was not difficult. The King declared himself most dissatisfied with his son; the Prince made no secret of the fact that he hated his father.
Caroline alone kept up a pretence that all was well; and however vehemently she expressed her dislike of her father-in-law in private, she always behaved with the utmost respect in public.
They had moved to Hampton Court for the summer; the King was not as displeased to be back in England now as he had been in the winter, for he had promised himself another trip to Hanover in the not too distant future while he resigned
himself to the fact that as King of England he must spend some of his time in that country.
