Текст книги "Caroline the Queen"
Автор книги: Виктория Холт
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 24 страниц)
Walpole in Danger
THE King was happy because he was going to Hanover.
There had been opposition to the visit. It was, pointed out his ministers, an unpopular move. The people of England could not understand why their King should want to leave his country for the sake of some little German state. It was noticed that he was more affable, that he did not snub his wife so humiliatingly in public, that he was tolerant to his children and now and then even affable to the Prince of Wales. No one could doubt that the King was looking forward to going to Hanover.
Walpole’s feelings were mixed. It was easier to deal with business when the King was away; on the other hand the popularity of the Royal House was important and so cleverly had the Queen worked on the King that George was almost as devoted to his first minister as Caroline was.
Still George was determined to go.
When he was dressed after his afternoon sleep he came into the Queen’s apartments to take her for their walk and he was smiling pleasantly.
This time next week he would be on his way.
‘You are ready, my dear?’
Of course she was ready. She knew better than to keep him waiting.
He led her out to the gardens and he walked by her side to the Upper Paddock to look at the deer. Caroline was very proud of the gardens of Kensington because when her father-in-law had died she had taken an immense interest in them and had even had a hand in the planning. Often she thought that if there were not so many state duties, if she felt as well as she once did, she would be happy to devote a great deal of time to gardening.
She had had the parterres removed and it had been a great pleasure to plan the gardens. The Broad Walk was becoming one of her favourite sauntering grounds; and she was glad that she had had the Round Pond set in the middle of the lawns.
‘The gardens are beginning to look so beautiful now,’ she said.
The King replied. ‘We have nothing here to compare with the statues and linden avenues at Herrenhausen.’
She did not agree, but of course one did not question any statement of the King’s.
‘I hope all will be well there.’
‘You are concerned for me, my dear. All will be well, I tell you. You must not be sad because I leave you.’
‘You would not expect me to be happy?’
He smiled complacently. ‘Oh, no, no. But you shall be Regent while I am gone. That is good for you and I feel everything is safe in your hands. I said to Walpole, I leave everything safe in your hands and those of the Queen.’
‘I shall do my best,’ said the Queen.
‘Ah, it is good for you. You like to be the Regent. Confess it. You like it, my dear, and for me, I am a man you know ... and I must be a bachelor now and then. It is the way of the world. But rest assured, my dear, that no mistress will ever be to me as you are.’
She looked at the winding stream which they called the Serpentine and sighed.
‘No,’ he went on, ‘there are some very attractive women at the Court and I have honoured them ... but always I say: They are not the Queen. For me there is only one woman although I may have—as is natural to a man, my dear—many mistresses. So for me the bachelor existence and for you the Regency, eh?’
She smiled at him wanly. Her legs were beginning to ache. If only she could reduce the swelling.
‘I shall write to you,’ he said.
Oh, yes, he would write long letters telling her intimate details of his love affairs. She could well do without such letters.
And I shall expect you to write to me,’ he went on.
‘You may be sure that you will be informed of all that happens.’
‘I trust my Regent. So ... for you the Regency ... for me the bachelor’s life.’
* * *
When he was gone she found her health improving. When there was no longer the need to hide all signs of fatigue, that fatigue lessened considerably. She walked at a slower pace, stopping to examine the flowers or comment on the growth of the trees she had planted and which she hoped posterity would be grateful for. There was no need now to keep up with the King.
She now had time to learn more about the nation.
She told Walpole that Kings and Queens were often sheltered from the truth. When her carriage was driven through the city she had seen beggars and stallholders and had wondered how they lived.
Walpole smiled benignly. ‘Everyone knows what a good heart Your Majesty has.’
She knew of course that he wanted her to remember that their task was to rule the state; they were surrounded by enemies and they could not take their minds from the matter in hand.
‘Yet it seems to me the way the people live is our concern,’ said the Queen.
Walpole nodded gravely, waited a few seconds, and then began to explain that a need would soon arrive to take action about the land tax which needed revision. He was working out a scheme and as soon as it was ready he would put it to the Queen who could then acquaint the King of whatever decision they should come to.
The Queen nodded; but her thoughts were with the poor people whom she had seen on her drive.
* * *
She was in her apartments reading the documents which had been laid before her, and suddenly she paused. She held in her hand a death warrant.
She stared at it and wondered whose life she would be signing away. She put down her pen and went to the window. Away in the Upper Paddock she caught sight of the deer; it all seemed so beautiful, but she could not get out of her mind the picture of a cell in Newgate Jail where a man whose name was on that death warrant was waiting for her to sign away his life.
What had he done? she wondered. And why? That was the question. Why?
She thought of the child she had seen barefooted, wrapped in a tattered shawl through which the flesh showed blue and mottled. Those people stole. Why? Because they were hungry. They killed, because they had never been taught, because life was so hard that they had to fight and perhaps kill to live.
She decided that she would not sign the death warrant until she knew more of that man.
* * *
She felt curiously alive and almost exalted. There were several poor men whose lives she had saved. She had refused to put her signature blithely on those death warrants. She had declared that before she did she wanted to know the nature of the crimes of which they were accused.
When Walpole came to her and wanted to talk about the Land Tax she insisted on discussing the state of the prisons.
‘I want an enquiry set up,’ she said. ‘I want to know what goes on there. I want to discover if there is anything we can do to make the lot of these poor people more bearable.’
‘They are criminals, Madam,’ Walpole reminded her.
‘Yes, but why? That is what I want to know. I want to discover more about these people. Why do they go to prison in the first place? And I’ll begin by knowing what happens to them when they get there.’
She was horrified with what the enquiry disclosed. Poor prisoners were treated with the utmost cruelty whereas on those occasions when a rich man found himself in jail he could live in comfort by bribing his jailors and even escapes were connived at if the rewards were high enough.
She discovered that there were no beds for the sick prisoners, that there was often no food, that many of them died from cold and starvation, and she was deeply distressed and sought a means of reforming the system.
Walpole was impatient. Charitable works were all very well, but there were a great many more important matters on hand. He believed that the best way to reform was through prosperity and even his enemies would have to admit that, through his peaceful policy, he had brought that to England.
He sought to lure the Queen back to more practical matters.
The King was writing long letters to her which arrived almost daily. He was a better writer than speaker and he went into the most minute details of whatever he did. This included his love affairs which, the Queen noticed, with some alarm, were becoming more and more frequent. He would describe the charms of his mistresses down to the most intimate detail; and if he was unable to arouse the passions of any of them he would ask the Queen to give the matter her consideration. As a woman she should understand her own sex.
She would read them through with irritation and exasperation, and a little fear. Was he becoming more in– terested in other women than he had been before?
He had previously felt that he should have a mistress and it used to be said by some of the wits of the Court that he was a man who found pleasure with his wife and took his mistresses for the sake of duty. Would they say that of him now?
When he was with her he was an uxorious husband, one might say. He did not seem to tire of her physically; and even when he snubbed her so humiliatingly in public it was the snub of a husband who is interested in his wife; there had never been any question of his being indifferent to her.
Sometimes the thought of her internal disorder would catch her unaware and send the panic running through her. Was he aware of it? Would it turn him away from her? Would it send him more and more in search of other women?
No, she was a habit with him. More than that he was a sentimental man and she was enshrined in his heart. His wife, the woman he had chosen; the woman he declared he loved beyond all others. Hadn’t she fought all these years to retain that hold on him? Hadn’t she suppressed her superior knowledge, at least keeping it hidden from him; hadn’t she upheld him always in private as well as in public; had she not always outwardly bowed to his will; and it was only when she had brought him round to her opinion that she admitted that opinion was hers. Yes, she was a habit. But so had Henrietta Howard been; and he only visited her now to grumble at her and to show that he was heartily sick of her and that if she had not become involved with a certain time of his day he would have discarded her. In fact, in spite of time he would have discarded her if his wife would let her go.
Henrietta must stay, thought the Queen; for in her mind Henrietta was linked with the old days.
Let a new mistress take her place—someone young, someone gay, someone less discreet, some power-hungry female? No! Henrietta must remain even though she was restive and wanting to go, even though the King was tired of her.
She put aside his letter and picked up the document on her table.
‘Thomas Ricketts,’ she read. ‘Fourteen years transportation for stealing a silver-hilted sword....’
Fourteen years ... away from home and family ... fourteen years to a strange land.
‘John Pritchard ... fourteen years transportation for house-breaking...
What happened to a home when a man was away from it for fourteen years? And how did he return?
She wrote across the documents. ‘The Queen wishes to know more of these cases.’
* * *
During those summer months when the King was away in Hanover, Caroline instituted an inspection of prisons and dismissed several jailors who had been caught acting cruelly towards poor prisoners.
She would have liked to reform the prisons, but this, Walpole assured her, was impossible. It would mean raising taxes which would be an unpopular move at the moment.
She must be content with setting up a regular inspection. Then certain evils could be put right providing it was not too costly to do so.
So she had to be satisfied with pardoning several poor wretches who were condemned to the gallows and saving others from transportation. She raised money to pay the debts of certain people who had been languishing for years in the debtors’ prisons.
She would have liked to go on with this work for she was sure there was a great deal to do.
But in September after a four months’ sojourn in Hanover the King returned.
* * *
The King left Hanover reluctantly. On his journey to the Palace when the people came out to see him pass he was sullen and scarcely returned their greeting.
‘How hot it is here,’ he said. ‘In Hanover there is a cool breeze.’
Oh dear, thought the Queen, the people are noticing. ‘The dust from the ground makes you cough. In Hanover there is no dust. What a noisy crowd! They could learn manners from us Germans.’
It was incredible that this was the man who had when his father was alive declared himself enamoured of England and all things English. It was not the English he had loved, but his father whom he had hated.
As soon as they sat down to a meal which was taken ceremoniously in public he complained that the food was ill-cooked. It was tasteless. It was not like the food he had had in Hanover.
And when he and the Queen were alone for the night he declared that in Hanover a man was a King even though he was an Elector. But in England though he was called a King he was a slave of his Parliament.
She agreed with him docilely enough and wondered whether he would now tell her that the women of Hanover were far more attractive than the women of England; but this he refrained from doing; and appeared to be satisfied with her.
* * *
Walpole took an early opportunity of laying his new scheme before the King. Caroline had already heard of it, but neither she nor Walpole anticipated any obstacle from George.
‘It is necessary as Your Majesty has often pointed out,’ said Walpole, ‘to raise taxes, and certain ideas Your Majesty put into my mind before your visit to Hanover have enabled me to come forward with a plan.’
The King did not question the fact that the ideas were his. Whenever Walpole told him this he believed it.
So he nodded agreeably and waited.
‘The largest proportion of taxation comes from the Land Tax, as Your Majesty is well aware,’ went on Walpole. ‘The landowners are restive. They remind us that during the war they were paying four shillings in the pound. Since we have had peace and cut the army costs we have been able to reduce this to two shillings in the pound. But the landowners say this is too much. I agree with Your Majesty that this tax should be spread and perhaps by so doing we could increase the revenue. I suggest that we bring wine and tobacco duties under the law of excise. This does not make a great deal of difference to the tax imposed. It is rather a different way of collecting. But of course in the wine and tobacco business there is a great deal of smuggling and this I hope to prevent and so increase revenue considerably.’
‘His Majesty is going to say that he approves of this wholeheartedly,’ said the Queen with a smile, ‘for I see he is thinking that the Civil List depends partly on these duties and if they are increased so will the Civil List be.’
‘I was going to say that,’ said the King with an approving nod.
‘It is true, of course,’ said Walpole with a smile. ‘I should now like to lay before Your Majesty my plan of the scheme.’
This he began to do while the Queen listened,, taking her cue when to speak from the minister; and in any case they had already decided how they would set the matter before the King. Not that George needed any persuasion on this occasion.
The new excise laws would increase the Civil List and that was good enough for him.
* * *
Bolingbroke, Pulteney, and Wyndham called a meeting of their friends in the Opposition.
‘Walpole is going to bring in his excise scheme,’ announced Bolingbroke. ‘He can fall on this, and we must see that he does.’
Pulteney pointed out that he would have the landowners with him because of the reduction of the Land Tax.
‘We must see that he has no one with him,’ retorted Bolingbroke. ‘This is an opportunity for which we have all been waiting. This is going to see the end of Walpole.’
‘What!’ cried Wyndham. ‘For a tax on wine and tobacco.’
‘We’ll call it a beginning.’ Bolingbroke’s eyes were aflame. ‘We’ll tell the country what it means. He will start on wine and tobacco and then it will be food . . . everything the people want to buy will be taxed. That will be our cry: “Down with the excise! “ ‘ He turned to Pulteney. ‘We’ll start at once in The Craftsman. “What is Robin the trickster doing now? He is tricking you of your hard earned wages. He is telling you it is only wine and tobacco. Wine and tobacco today. Bread tomorrow. It is only a matter of collecting the tax we will change? Yes, collect it so that more goes out of your pocket and more into Robin’s! “ ‘
‘You think it will be a big issue?’ asked Wyndham. ‘My friend, we are going to see that it is a big issue.’
* * *
Everyone was discussing the new excise proposals. In the coffee and chocolate houses they talked of nothing else. The Craftsmanwas handed from one to another. ‘Read this. Read what The Craftsman says.’
This was the end of freedom in England, The Craftsman told its readers. This was what Robin had been trying to bring about for years. He wanted to make the King an absolute monarch. Did the people remember that certain monarchs had believed in their Divine Right? They had a King who was more German than English, who preferred the little electorate of Hanover to the mighty country which was England. Between them he, his fat queen, and their henchman Walpole would ruin England; they would destroy the liberties of the people; it would be as though Magna Carta had never been signed. Robin was going to introduce his Excise Bill and lead them back to the dark ages.
‘To hell with these Germans!’ cried the people. ‘What are they doing here anyway!’
It was not only the Opposition who saw opportunities in the excise scheme. Many of Walpole’s own ministry were dissatisfied. Why had they not been given this or that job? Why were they in a minor ministerial position when their talents were so much greater than the men who had the jobs? Jealousy always walked side by side with ambition, and this was an opportunity to destroy the most successful minister of his day, the man who had brought peace and prosperity to England, the most powerful of all politicians, the man who had courted the Queen and won her approval so successfully that between them they had the King in leading strings.
These men called a meeting and selected one of themselves to go to the Queen and point out to her that she was being misled in this excise scheme by Walpole, of whom she had too high opinion; they were to ask her to dissociate herself and the King from the scheme and to let Walpole stand alone in its defence if he wanted to.
For this they chose a Scottish peer, John Dalrymple, Lord Stair.
Lord Stair had a great deal to recommend him for the task. He was a forthright man; he had been slighted and, he believed, treated very badly by Walpole, and he was one of his greatest enemies. He was fearless, and since he felt strongly would put the case well. He was no young fool, being nearly sixty; he was no respecter of persons, and as a Scotsman he had even less love for the Germans than the English had.
Stair had had an adventurous life. When he was only eight years old he had accidentally shot his elder brother, and although he had been pardoned for this his parents could not endure to have him near them constantly to remind them of what he had done, so he was put in the care of a tutor for three years and after that sent to his grandfather in Holland. His youth had been overshadowed by this event and as he had been entirely innocent it had set up a certain resentment in him. He had, however, become the friend of another strange and withdrawn man, William of Orange, and distinguished himself in battle, serving very successfully under Marlborough. Queen Anne had respected him and made him her ambassador to France, but when Marlborough fell, Stair fell with him.
He then went back to Edinburgh and became the leader of the Scottish Whigs; and there he fell in love with Eleanor, Viscountess Primrose. She was a widow who had been unhappy in her first marriage and vowed she would never marry again. But Lord Stair also made a vow which was that she should be his wife. He achieved this by finding a way into her house where he hid himself and then at a certain moment appeared at her bedroom window. Such a scandal ensued, for the Viscountess was reckoned to be one of the most virtuous women of her time, that all she could do was to marry him.
He had always been in favour of the Hanoverian succession and with the coming of George I he was appointed a Lord of the Bedchamber, a Privy Councillor, Colonel of the Inniskilling Guards, and sent as Ambassador to Paris. Walpole had earned his dislike by recalling him from this appointment. Then realizing that Stair was a forceful man Walpole had tried to placate him by making him Vice-Admiral of Scotland. This Stair accepted, but the Paris affair rankled; and ever since he had been prepared to act against ‘Walpole.
Because he was a man of strong views and not afraid to voice them, because of his resentment against Walpole, he was chosen to present the case against the excise to the Queen, who, on his request, received him in her apartments at Kensington Palace.
He came straight to the point and began by attacking Walpole.
‘Your Majesty knows nothing of this man,’ he cried, ‘but what he tells you himself. But let me tell Your Majesty this: In no age was any minister so universally detested as this man whom you support. Nobody doubts that he absolutely governs Your Majesty. You may have the semblance of power but this man Walpole is the true ruler.’
The Queen was astonished and for the moment could find nothing to say.
‘Who are his closest friends? Who are those whom he keeps in the highest places—next his own? Argyle and Islay! Is this your choice, Madam? And if so, have you forgotten that these two men tried to set up the power of the King’s mistress so that it should be greater than yours?’
Caroline flinched. She hated any reference to Henrietta Howard. And the idea that there should have been any question of her having power was very repugnant to her.
‘Mrs Howard ...’ began Stair, but Caroline cut him short.
‘Pray remember that you are speaking of the King’s servant and to the King’s wife,’ she said coldly.
Stair then began on the matter which had brought him to her: the Excise Bill. ‘Madam, it will be impossible to force this obnoxious Bill through the Lords. It may be that your minister will get it through’ the Commons by corruption ...’
‘Lord Stair, I think you should retire until you arc a little calmer.’
‘I’m calm enough, Madam. This scheme is so wicked and dishonest that my conscience would no more permit me to vote for it than Walpole’s should have permitted him to promote it.’
‘Don’t talk to me of your conscience, my lord. You make me faint! ‘
Lord Stair who resented this remark went on to storm against Walpole and his nefarious methods.
‘You learn your politics, sir, from The Craftsman I do believe,’ said the Queen sarcastically. ‘And as Lord Bolingbroke is your teacher I am not surprised at your ideas and your manners. That man is one of the greatest liars and knaves in any country. This I have found, not from what I have read in scurrilous papers such as you glean your ideas from, but from my own observation and experiences. And now, my Lord Stair, I must ask you to take your leave as I have other matters to which I must attend.’
There was nothing Stair could do but return to his friends and tell them that it was no use talking to the Queen about the Excise Bill, for she stood firmly beside Walpole.
* * *
Rarely had there been such excitement throughout the country as there was over the proposed Excise Bill. Meetings were called in every town hall, at every village inn. In London crowds gathered at street corners; banners were held high bearing the words ‘No Excise. No Slavery.’ And as the weeks passed the tumult grew louder.
Even Walpole’s supporters wondered whether it was wise to continue.
The purpose of the scheme had been distorted out of all proportion. All Walpole had suggested was a revision of the wine and tobacco tax, but the whole country was convinced that every need of life would so rise in price that they would be unable to obtain it.
The people did not know that in opposing Walpole’s excise scheme his enemies planned to rid the country of Walpole. No matter how his writers sought to counteract the effect of papers like The Craftsman, they could not do it. The people wanted a grievance; they liked nothing better than to see the mighty fallen, and Walpole had enjoyed too much power too long. Even those who did not know him wanted his downfall.
As for men such as Bolingbroke, Pulteney, and Wyndham, they saw in this a chance such as rarely came their way and they were not going to miss it.
Walking through the streets of London, a cloak concealing him for he was a well-known figure, Walpole saw the humour of the people. He heard the shouts of ‘No Excise!’ He listened to oratory and felt a bitter despair because it was clear that they did not know what the excise was. What did this shouting mob know of government, of the need for taxation? Did they thank him for the years of peace they had enjoyed? Not they! They wanted excitement; they wanted to taunt a politician as they taunted a bull; they were setting him to fight with his enemies as they did their fighting cocks.
He could fall on this ... down to disgrace, to the end of power.
Maria wanted him to give up, to go to Houghton and forget politics. But how could a man who had once tasted power live without it?
There was Houghton with its treasures; there was riotous living in the country: drink, a heavy table, congenial companions ... and Maria.
But in London there was power and he had known great power.
‘Give up the Excise Scheme,’ said his few friends. But were they friends? They were those who if he fell, would fall with him. So perhaps he must call them his friends.
Give up the Excise Bill! Admit defeat! No. That would be the end. He would betray a weakness. That supreme confidence which had carried him through all his troubles would be lost.
‘I shall not give up the Excise Bill,’ said Walpole.
* * *
‘And this,’ said the Prime Minister addressing a hostile House, ‘is the scheme which has been represented in so terrible a light! This is the monster which was to devour the people and commit such ravages on the whole nation.’
The Opposition was waiting to pounce. The Prime Minister’s own men were looking on with anxiety. He had explained that he had never had any intention to impose a general excise. The only commodities in question had been wine and tobacco. This he wished to introduce because a great deal of taxes were being lost to the nation through smuggling. This he wished to curtail. The House must understand that he had been wickedly ... no ... criminally misrepresented.
Wyndham was on his feet. The Opposition were against any form of excise. The Opposition did not believe in the Prime Minister’s protestations. It denounced the entire measure. It regarded excise in any form as the badge of slavery. ‘At this moment,’ he went on, ‘the people of this City are at the gates of the House. They are waiting eagerly to hear the result of this session. They want to know whether we, the Opposition, have prevailed on the Prime Minister’s indifference to their poverty and want ... whether we have thrown out this wicked measure—which we intend to do.’
Cheers drowned this speech and the sounds of voices could be heard without.
The mob must be thousands strong, thought Walpole.
He did not show his alarm. ‘These sufferers from poverty and want,’ he cried, ‘would seem to be very sturdy beggars.’
Pulteney was on his feet. ‘It moves me to wrath,’ he cried, ‘that the Prime Minister should have such indifference to the plight of the poor as to refer to them as sturdy beggars.’
Sturdy beggars! The phrase was referred to again and again during the debate. It was an unfortunate phrase. Walpole knew that it would be seized, used in the wrong context; that he would never escape from it.
The debate continued; and after thirteen hours no conclusion was reached.
One or two of his supporters suggested that Walpole slip out of the House quietly and cautiously, so that he might not be recognized. The mob was in an ugly mood.
* * *
The last complaint that could be made about the King was that he was a coward. George had never been that. Caroline and he talked continuously of the Excise and what this measure was doing to Walpole. His friends were deserting him after imploring him to drop the unpopular measure. Walpole would have liked to do this, but he could only see that to drop it would so lower his prestige that he would lose his place forever. He would be playing straight into his enemies hands, which was of course exactly what they wanted.
It astonished him, he told Maria, that the two who should be his most faithful friends in this crisis were the King and the Queen.
George’s eyes would fill with tears when he spoke of his Prime Minister. ‘That man has more spirit than any other man I ever knew,’ he said. ‘He is a brave man.’
And bravery was something which George understood and respected.
‘We will stand by him,’ he told the Queen. ‘No matter what happens we will not desert him.’
The Queen was anxious, and when Lord Scarborough requested an interview and she had heard what he had to say she was very alarmed. Richard Lumley, Lord Scarborough, was Lieutenant General of the Army and because he had always been a good friend to her and the King, Caroline knew she could trust him.
His immediate request was to be allowed to resign from his post.
Caroline was horrified. ‘But I couldn’t allow it.’ ‘Madam,’ he told her, ‘there will soon be a revolt in the army.’
‘Oh, no, no,’ cried Caroline. ‘It cannot be as bad as this.’ ‘There will be mutiny, Madam, if the Bill is not dropped.’
‘But you will answer to the King for the army.’
‘I will answer for the army against the Pretender,’ said Scarborough, ‘but not against the excise.’
‘Then,’ said the Queen soberly, ‘in your opinion the only course open to us is to drop the Bill.’
‘It is the only way, Madam.’
‘Yes,’ replied Caroline. ‘It is the only way.’
She went to the King and told him what Scarborough had said. Like her, George trusted Scarborough. If Scarborough said the army was on the edge of mutiny, then that was so.
