Текст книги "Caroline the Queen"
Автор книги: Виктория Холт
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‘I am happy to be back,’ said the King, ‘because I have missed you so much.’
He spoke in French and Caroline answered unthinkingly in the same language. It was some time later before she realized the significance of this.
Then he kissed all the children in turn and the cheers of the watchers grew more ecstatic.
When the greeting was over, the King took the Queen by the hand and helped her into his coach; the rest of the family used the coaches immediately behind the King’s and so the royal party came to St James’s.
Statesmen Quarrel
THE King had changed since his visit to Hanover. He no longer attempted to speak English on all occasions. He slipped easily into French or German and everyone else had to follow him. This did not inconvenience Caroline, who had always been aware that she spoke English with a German accent, and because Frederick spoke the language so much better than his parents it gave him an advantage. Most of the courtiers spoke French if not German, so the former was the language chiefly used.
But the change was significant. The King, who had once never let an opportunity pass without declaring his love for England, now never let one pass without expressing his dislike.
‘This is the worst climate in the world,’ he would say whenever the wind blew or the rain fell. ‘How different it is in Hanover!’
Or: ‘These English do not know how to cook. The food in Hanover was delicious. We shall have to bring cooks over to teach them how to cook.’
The gardens of Hampton and Kensington could not compare with those of Herrenhausen; the people in the streets of London were unruly; those in Hanover were well disciplined; in Hanover he had been supreme ruler; here there was always that miserable Parliament.
‘Soon,’ he said, ‘I shall have to pay another visit to Hanover.’
The Queen said that although that would sadden everyone in England she was sure it would please everyone in Hanover.
‘You seem pleased that I should go?’
How careful one had to be I Had her voice carried a lilt because she was thinking of being Regent once more? ‘Your Majesty must surely be joking.’
He grunted, for he could not imagine that she was not delighted to have him back.
He was a good husband. He had spent every night with her since his return. She was a beautiful woman, his Caroline; there were times when he almost wished that a man need not have mistresses to prove his virility. In fact, Caroline pleased him as well as any woman. She always had; she always would, he assured himself. He liked a woman to be plump and Caroline was that. Her bosom was the best in the world—so soft, so ample. Oh, yes, he would be well content to retire to bed with her at precisely the same time every night if he had not felt that his courtiers expected something else of him.
He called on Henrietta Howard as usual—every evening on the stroke of the hour; but he did not go to bed with her. That was a habit he had changed since returning from Hanover. She was getting old and she was deaf, which he found irritating; in fact if she were not such a habit he would cast her off.
But Caroline was so much more to his taste.
As for Caroline, she dreaded the King’s regular habits, for that secret illness of which she believed none knew except Mrs Clayton was becoming more and more painful, and each night she feared that the King might discover it. That would drive him away from her, she knew. He could never tolerate illness—and such an illness would be an end to all desire on his part.
Strangely enough, for all his infidelities, he still desired her; and she believed that in this was her strength. All the mistresses he had had—and they had been numerous—had never given him the pleasure she had. He had told her this, for there was nothing he enjoyed so much as discussing with her his love passages with other women. She knew a great deal about the sexual habits of many women of the Court—solely because the King had taken her into his confidence. That he did this was meant as a compliment. They were his mistresses; she was his wife. He would have her know that he never forgot the difference.
Subconsciously Caroline knew that while she held this supremacy she could rule the King, and while she ruled the King, Walpole must take her into his confidence. But if she lost her physical hold on George, which she would do if he were embarrassed by her affliction, then she would also lose her power to lead him.
It was of the utmost importance that she keep her secret.
She wished that it were entirely her own secret and that Mrs Clayton had not discovered it. Sometimes, by an expression, Mrs Clayton betrayed the fact that she was thinking of it; since she had revealed her knowledge there had been an air of closer intimacy in her manner. She ruled the household under the Queen and even though Caroline did not always approve of her manners, she felt herself unable to protest. It was slight, it was subtle, but it was there. Another woman held the secret which Caroline must at all costs keep from the world.
Henrietta Howard was very much aware of the change in the King since he had come back from Hanover. It was time she left, she knew. She would not be sorry to go and when she looked back over the years since she had become the King’s mistress she realized that they had been singularly unprofitable. The fact was, George was a mean man where others were concerned. He liked to spend money, but on himself. Theirs had been unlike the usual relationship between a King and his mistress. She had no grand titles to show for her years of service, no rich lands which brought in good revenues. All she had had was a place at Court as a bedchamber woman—not even a Lady of the Bedchamber, but a bedchamber woman.
She had served the Queen well too, and in fact it was Caroline who wished her to stay at Court and hold her place in the King’s life. Why? Because she was reliable, because she was insignificant, because if she went the King would think it necessary to replace her by a woman who might lack her quality of amiable placidity.
A sad end to a life of service, thought Henrietta.
She would like to retire and live in peace. She never wanted to go back to her husband; and that of course he would not want either, for he had no interest in her apart from the £1,200 paid to him by the King for his permission to allow her to stay in the Queen’s household.
If she returned to him he would lose that and he much preferred it to her.
Well, he must do what he would about that; Henrietta was tired of servitude. Moreover, she believed that very soon the King would break the habit of visiting her and then her sole duty would be to act as bedchamber woman to the Queen.
She would miss Court life in a way. The little parties she gave in her apartments were always well attended by those people who mistakenly believed that the way to the King’s favour was through his mistress. Lord Townshend had been one of these, and still clung to the belief; Henrietta knew that this was one of the reasons why the Queen disliked him so.
She was in a melancholy mood. The King had been particularly unpleasant; he had snapped at her and called her a fool, and then been annoyed because she had not quite caught what he said, and had asked him to repeat it. It was true he had stayed the appointed time, but he had kept looking at his watch as though he found it hard to believe that time could pass so slowly.
Oh yes, it was certainly time she left Court and found solace elsewhere.
In such a mood she went to assist at the Queen’s dressing. The Queen had, since she came to the throne, been very eager to follow the old traditions of royal behaviour which her father-in-law had abandoned. For him it had been enough to have his two Turkish servants, Mahomet and Mustapha, to dress and undress him; this had caused a great deal of resentment throughout the Court, for it dispensed with so many remunerative posts in the bedchamber. Caroline, however, had reverted to the old customs and her rising and retiring were conducted with traditional ceremony.
As bedchamber woman it was Henrietta’s duty to bring the basin and ewer, kneeling to present them to the Queen. This Henrietta felt too much of an indignity for a woman who had for so many years been the King’s mistress. Who ever heard of a King’s mistress remaining a bedchamber woman all her life!
She brought the basin and ewer for the Queen but did not kneel, and the Queen immediately noticed the omission.
‘My dear Howard,’ said Caroline, ‘what does this mean? You know you should kneel when you present the basin and ewer.’
‘Madam,’ answered Henrietta, the colour leaping to her cheeks, ‘it is something I cannot do.’
Oh dear, thought Caroline, she is suddenly going to give herself airs because of her relationship with the King ... after all these years!
‘Have you pains in your knees?’ asked the Queen. ‘No, Madam. That is not the reason.’
‘So it is not pain but ... dignity.’
‘I will not do it, Madam.’
Caroline sighed. ‘But my dear Howard, I am sure you will. Fie for shame. But go now. Go away and we will talk of this another time.’
The Queen summoned another of the bedchamber women to perform the duty which Henrietta had refused, but she was thinking, the matter must not rest here. Henrietta must either be made to do her duty to the Queen irrespective of her relationship with the King or go. And if she went and another younger, more attractive woman replaced her ...
The Queen shuddered; and Henrietta, in her own apartment wondering what she had done, was less disturbed than the Queen.
* * *
Sir Robert Walpole came to the Queen’s closet and Caroline immediately informed him of the incident.
He looked grave, for like Caroline he realized the importance of keeping Henrietta in her position. ‘The King must not form a new and more attractive habit,’ he said.
‘It’s true,’ replied the Queen, ‘but I vill not have insolence from the King’s guenips.’
Walpole laughed. ‘I will speak to Mrs Howard,’ he said. ‘I will tell her that she should enquire of Lady Masham who served Queen Anne for so long and held a position with that Queen far more intimate and affectionate than Mrs Howard holds with the King, yet remained bedchamber woman and I believe observed every rule of etiquette. I am sure Lady Masham will tell Mrs Howard that the kneeling position is a necessary one. Then she will be satisfied and so will you.’
‘That is von goot idea,’ said the Queen.
‘There is another of your ladies who deserves a little attention,’ went on Walpole. ‘I am referring to Mrs Clayton. I think that good lady has too high an opinion of herself.’
The Queen was silent, but her lips tightened and a wary expression came into her eyes. Walpole was conscious of this and was immediately alert.
‘I fancied she was a little insolent to me,’ he went on, ‘as though she almost resented my visits to Your Majesty.’
‘Clayton is a good woman,’ said the Queen rapidly. ‘She has been vith me for a long time. I find her an excellent servant.’
‘Ah, these women, they work well for a while and then it occurs to them that they are indispensable. It seems to me that Mrs Clayton at times almost believes she is Your Majesty.’
The Queen laughed uneasily.
‘I certainly think that she believed herself to be of greater importance than Your Majesty’s ministers.’
‘I vill speak to her,’ the Queen promised.
Sir Robert turned the conversation to his brother-in-law Townshend. ‘It would seem, Madam, that we are surrounded by those who would flout us. Townshend is becoming intolerable.’
‘Then,’ replied the Queen almost blithely, ‘vile ye vork to keep Mrs Howard, ye must plan to rid ourselves of Lord Townshend.’
Walpole plunged into an animated account of his relative’s shortcomings, but all the time he was wondering what had happened between the Queen and Mrs Clayton to make the Queen so uneasy when she was criticized. Had the woman some hold over the Queen? That seemed impossible, but naturally Walpole must make it his business to find out.
* * *
Lady Masham from her retirement in the country was very ready to help Mrs Howard with her little problem. The bedchamber woman, it seemed, must always remember that she was in an inferior position to the Lady of the Bedchamber. When the Queen put on her shift, although the bedchamber woman brought it to the chamber, she must hand it to the lady to put on. As for the basin and ewer, this must be brought in by the bedchamber woman who should put it on to a table before the Queen. Then the woman must kneel beside the table while the lady looked on. When the Queen began to wash her hands the woman then rose and poured the water over Her Majesty’s hands. The bedchamber woman must not forget that she was not a Lady of the Bedchamber.
In view of such corroboration from one who had long served a Queen and was acquainted with every rule of Court etiquette Henrietta could only humbly admit her fault and when she next presented the basin and ewer remained on her knees in the required manner.
Caroline showed that she bore no resentment, and only felt relief that there were now no difficulties between her and her good Howard.
* * *
Now Caroline and Walpole could devote their attention to Townshend. He was a man Caroline had never liked. He was quick tempered, domineering and jealous; and at the same time puritanical. His dislike of his brother-in-law had been growing since his wife Dorothy—Walpole’s sister—had died, and was now more like hatred. There was nothing to keep the two men together; and there was a great deal to separate them.
Townshend deplored Walpole’s way of life which he considered highly immoral. He was irritated, too, because Walpole had built Houghton, a magnificent country mansion in Norfolk not far from Townshend’s own splendid house at Raynham. They were both proud of their estates and sought to rival each other; and whereas the Raynham house had at one time been the finest in the neighbourhood, Houghton under Walpole’s extravagant care began to rival it and then outshine it.
At Houghton Walpole had one of the finest collections of pictures in the country. He had made a fortune out of the South Seas Company and had stocked his house with treasures. Raynham was decidedly put into the shade.
Moreover, to Houghton came those who were seeking places at Court; it was an honour to be invited; Walpole kept an open house and spent vast sums on entertaining. The wine flowed liberally and there were many what Townshend called ‘drunken orgies’ taking place frequently at Houghton. These parties were the talk of the countryside. They were extremely costly but Walpole did not care. He was a man who liked to surround himself with drinking companions and he found plenty ready to enjoy his lavish hospitality. To Houghton he often brought Maria Skerrett who presided over the parties with him; and the sounds of singing and laughter so disturbed the peace of the countryside—so said Lord Townshend—that when Walpole was at Houghton he found it necessary to leave Raynham.
The brothers-in-law had quarrelled over the Treaty of Seville which Walpole had carried through in a manner which was not in accord with Townshend’s wishes. While Townshend was shocked by Walpole’s profligacy, Walpole sneered at what he called Townshend’s hypocrisy.
The antagonism was at its height when one day at the Queen’s levee Caroline asked Townshend where he had dined.
Townshend replied: ‘With Lord and Lady Trevor, Your Majesty.’
At this remark Walpole who was standing by the Queen’s chair became very alert. Lord Trevor had succeeded the Duke of Kingston as the Lord Privy Seal a few years previously, although Walpole had thought him scarcely the man for such an office; and as the rift between Walpole and Townshend widened so had Townshend drawn closer to Trevor. Lady Trevor, his second wife to whom he had been married for nearly thirty years, was an old and actually a very ugly woman and noted as much for her virtue as for her lack of beauty.
Walpole laughed and said in a voice which could be heard by all surrounding the Queen: ‘Madam, I think Lord Townshend is growing coquet. After all he has had a long widowhood. He has called so frequently at Lord Trevor’s house recently that I suspect he has designs on Lady Trevor’s virtue. That is the only reason I can think of to account for it.’
Townshend’s temper flared up and he regarded his brother-in-law with hatred. ‘I am not one of those fine gentlemen, sir,’ he cried, ‘who indulge in folly and immorality even though they are of an age when one would have hoped they might have been past such manners. Youth and idleness would not, in my opinion, excuse such conduct, but often this deplorable way of life is adopted by those who should know better. There are liberties, sir, which I am as far from taking as I am from approving. I have not the constitution that requires such practices, a purse that can support them nor a conscience that can digest them.’
Walpole smiled cynically and said quietly: ‘Why, my lord, all this for Lady Trevor! ‘
Caroline was annoyed with Townshend because he had so far forgotten his respect for her as to attack Walpole in her presence. He should have made some light response as Walpole had to him; and if he wished, take the matter up with his brother-in-law at some later date.
Townshend had turned to Walpole, his fists clenched, but Caroline said: ‘I think it is time for cards.’
And even Townshend knew that that was an order for him to say no more.
* * *
Townshend must go. That was what the Queen said to Walpole. She had no intention of upholding a man in a high position who had sought to curtail her powers when she was Regent. Townshend must go, said Walpole to the Queen. He was developing a hatred for his one-time friend and ally which could only bring disaster.
‘All went well enough,’ Walpole confided to the Queen, ‘when the firm was Townshend and Walpole. Now it is Walpole and Townshend, he does not like it.’
‘There is only one thing to be done, my good Sir Robert,’ replied Caroline. ‘It must be Walpole alone.’ ‘There is the King,’ Walpole warned her.
She knew that well enough. George had to be made to believe that Townshend should be asked to resign and that was not easy, for George liked Townshend, who had accompanied him on his journey to Hanover. Townshend was a good man, but not as important as Walpole certainly.
They would have to be very careful in condemning Townshend to the King.
* * *
Every time the brothers-in-law met there was trouble, and this came to a head at the house of a Colonel and Mrs Selwyn who had invited them to dine at their house opposite St James’s Palace.
Townshend arrived ready to take offence and expecting it. Walpole was nonchalant, seeming at ease, but determined not to let a chance of plaguing Townshend pass by.
Dinner began and Walpole drank with his usual abandon while Townshend was his abstemious self. They were soon engaged in a disagreement which threatened every minute to turn into an open quarrel. The host and hostess were uneasy; the rest of the guests expectant.
And when Walpole cried: ‘Sincerity? What is sincerity? There is no man’s sincerity I doubt so much as yours, my lord!’ Townshend lost his temper. He leaped from his seat spilling wine over the table and took his brother-in-law by the throat.
Walpole threw off Townshend and the two men stood for a few seconds glaring at each other malignantly; then Walpole clapped his hand on his sword and Townshend did the same. The hostess shrieked and there was clamour throughout the dining room.
‘I must stop this,’ cried Mrs Selwyn. ‘You shall not fight in my house.’
But Walpole had drawn his sword and Townshend had done the same.
‘No! ‘ screamed Mrs Selwyn and ran towards the door with the intention of calling the palace guard.
One of the guests stopped her.
‘There’ll be such a scandal. It will be all over the town if you call the guards. Sir Robert! My Lord Townshend ... for God’s sake put your swords away.’
Eeven Townshend’s temper had cooled a little and he was thinking how ridiculous it was for two middle-aged men—one the premier statesman of the land—to be facing each other, swords drawn at a dinner party.
Neither would be the first to put his sword away although neither had any wish to continue with the farce.
‘There will be such a scandal,’ wailed Mrs Selwyn. ‘Oh, Sir Robert, I beg of you ...’
Sir Robert turned to her and sighing replaced his sword in its scabbard. Townshend did the same.
‘It is impossible for us two to work together,’ said Walpole firmly.
‘That is one matter on which I am in complete agreement with you,’ replied Townshend. ‘I shall retire from any ministry in which you serve.’
Walpole bowed his head.
He excused himself to his hostess. After such a scene he believed it was for one of the offenders to retire, and he would do so with his apologies.
He went immediately to the Queen.
‘Townshend has resigned,’ he said.
She was delighted and he explained exactly what had happened at the Selwyns’.
‘Can you call this a resignation?’ she asked. ‘He vas not speaking officially.’
‘Madam, we must take it that he was speaking officially.’
Walpole then asked for an audience with the King; the Queen was present, but she said nothing while Walpole explained that Townshend had tendered his resignation.
Would His Majesty agree to Lord Harrington’s taking Townshend’s place?
The King had nothing against Harrington. He looked at the Queen who lowered her eyes. She did not want him to know that she and Walpole had long ago decided that as soon as they could rid themselves of Townshend they would set Harrington up in his place.
‘Harrington ...’ The King put his head on one side.
‘I am of the opinion that he would serve Your Majesty well,’ said Walpole.
Yes, Harrington would be a good man—a lazy, easygoing man; just the type who would suit Walpole for he would not attempt to frustrate him as Townshend had done.
‘Does the Queen think Harrington would be a good man?’ asked the King.
‘I know nothing of politics. Your Majesty knows all.’
Oh, dear, thought Walpole. Was that going a little too far? But no! The conceited little man was swallowing the flattery and savouring it. He really believed it was so. ‘Harrington, I think,’ said the King.
* * *
To his surprise Townshend realized that he had retired from the Ministry.
Well, he was weary of conflict in any case and that there would always be while Walpole was the chief minister. Chief minister! thought Townshend. He had made himself the sole minister. The Queen had helped him in this for he was the Queen’s man. If Townshend had had the foresight to seek his fortune through the Queen instead of through Mrs Howard he might not find himself outside politics now.
But it was over and done with. And he had a charming estate in Norfolk. It could be more rewarding perhaps developing that than fighting against an old ruffian like his brother-in-law, for any man who engaged in conflict with Walpole must fight a losing battle.
So to Norfolk went Townshend, and the field was clear for Walpole and the Queen.
Lord Hervey returned to England from a stay abroad where he had gone to recuperate from his almost perpetual ill health; and the Queen was delighted to welcome back her handsome Chamberlain, who sparkled with the wit she failed to find in the Prince of Wales.
Mrs Howard kept her place; Townshend was dismissed. And this was very comforting.
But while the Queen played cards and enjoyed the witticisms of her Chamberlain, while she knotted in the King’s company and led him the way she wanted him to go, Walpole continued to wonder what hold Mrs Clayton could possibly have over the Queen.
* * *
There was one whom both Walpole and the Queen seemed to have forgotten. This was the Prince of Wales. Since he had been denied the Regency he had been growing more and more dissatisfied. He himself would have been perfectly content to go on as he had been; he was lazy and good tempered generally, but there were many who resented Walpole’s power and who knew that such power could never be theirs while there was such a strong alliance between Walpole and the Queen. All astute observers of the scene knew that the Queen led the King and that only the King was unaware of this; so therefore if they wished to set up in rivalry against this powerful triumvirate, they must look beyond their Majesties.
And here was a Prince of Wales—not only neglected by his parents but disliked by them.
Bolingbroke, Pulteney, Wyndham, and such men were watching the Prince of Wales, and dropping casual hints now and then to remind him of his ill-treatment.
There was another who was deeply aware of the Prince, but his methods of using that young man would be different from the ambitious politicians. This was Lord Hervey, court beau and wit.
So while the Queen and Walpole concerned themselves with the waywardness of Mrs Howard, the secretiveness of Mrs Clayton, and the intolerable conduct of Lord Townshend, Lord Hervey was seeking to become the intimate friend of the Prince of Wales.
