The Third George: (Georgian Series) (17 page)

‘Let us say that I always believe in being prepared for it.’

The Princess shuddered. Since the resignation of Pitt, the temper of the public towards her and her lover had grown more hostile.

In the past the people had sung songs about them, had contented themselves with whispered scandal. They had merely been silent when they rode through the streets. Now they had changed. They shouted after her carriage and she knew they did after Lord Bute’s, too. When she had last driven through certain streets placards had been waved before the coach so that she could not fail to see them. On them had been crudely drawn a jackboot and petticoat. Some of the people even carried the boot and petticoat. They shouted obscenities after her carriage.

The petticoat was meant to represent her and the jackboot was a play on her lover’s name. He was John – therefore Jack – and Boot stood for Bute.

The country was governed by Jackboot and Petticoat, called these people, and they were by no means reticent about the relationship they believed to exist between these two; nor did they hesitate to discuss it in lewd and lurid terms.

The Princess shuddered.

‘I wish you were not riding in the procession,’ she said, but Bute only smiled at her. Of course he must be there. It was an occasion when all men of standing must be present. She need have no fear. He had arranged for protection from the mob should it be needed.

Had he not always been able to take care of himself?

*

Charlotte sat in the state coach with the King. The journey from St James’s Palace to Cheapside was just over two miles, but although they had left the Palace at noon they were still on the way after three o’clock on account of the roads being so jammed with the people who had come to see the show; and because of the carriages, carts and sedans of the spectators the procession
made slow progress. The people were able to come up to the coach and stare in at the King and Queen. George greeted them with warm, affectionate smiles; and Charlotte did her best to look pleasant.

‘God save the King … and the Queen!’ cried the people.

About the state coach were the Grenadier Guards, the Horse Guards and the Yeomen of the Guard, all in their brilliant uniforms, making a show to delight the people. But just ahead of them was the coach in which the Princess Dowager was riding with her daughters, the Princesses Augusta and Caroline Matilda, and Charlotte could hear the shouts of derision which were hurled at that particular vehicle.

‘Where’s the Scotch Stallion?’ called a voice in the crowd. George heard it and his lips tightened. He did not like to hear his mother thus insulted; but it occurred to him that the relationship between Lord Bute and his mother was so close as to give rise to speculation. He refused to believe that they were anything but good friends; in his great desire to bring morality back to the Court he could not face any other conclusion. These were the two people to whom he was closest; he could not allow himself to believe they were living in a manner of which he would heartily disapprove. Therefore he preferred to believe the people were wrong, and it distressed him deeply.

Moreover, he was thinking of Hannah. How could he help it when he was to be guest of Quakers? Perhaps he should have refused the Barclays’ offer of their home. But that would have aroused more comment than accepting it.

The shadow of Hannah Lightfoot hung over him. Sometimes he remembered the biblical admonition: The sins ye do by two and two ye pay for one by one.

He glanced sideways at Charlotte. She had no idea of his feelings. She must remain in ignorance. He was fond of her; he had forced himself to be fond of her because it was right and proper that he should be; he had forced himself to forget Sarah Lennox; but he could not shut Hannah Lightfoot out of his mind, and today he could not stop himself thinking of that ceremony of marriage through which he had gone when he and Hannah had stood before Dr Wilmot. It was a mock marriage. Hannah was already married to Isaac Axford. But Axford had no longer considered himself married to her because they had
not seen each other for years and in any case they had been married at Dr Keith’s Marriage Mill which had since been declared illegal.

At that time he and Hannah had believed their marriage to have been legal, and he could not get the thought of that marriage out of his head. It was going round and round, refusing to be dismissed; peeping out at him at odd moments like a mischievous sprite determined to ruin his peace of mind.

Sometimes his head ached with thinking of it.

Charlotte must not know. Charlotte would do as she was told. He was glad she could not speak English; that necessarily kept her apart. It was the wish of his mother and Lord Bute that she should not have any friends without their knowledge. They wanted to keep Charlotte in the background.

And so did he.

How slow was the journey! It was nearly four o’clock and they were only just turning into Cheapside.

Nearly four hours since they had left the Palace!

‘I’m hungry,’ Charlotte was saying.

The first of the coaches in which George’s uncle, the old Duke of Cumberland, was sitting must by now have reached the Barclays’ home; and after that was George’s Aunt Amelia and his brother the Duke of York, both with their separate coaches and servants. So many carriages and their retinues and after that there were George’s brothers William Henry and Frederick before the Princess Dowager and her daughters.

Charlotte said: ‘What a lot of food the Lord Mayor will need to provide for us all.’

‘It will do them good,’ replied the King. ‘They were eager enough to sit down at our expense at the coronation.’

*

One of the Barclays had spread a red carpet on the pavement before the house, so that the King and Queen need not step on the cobbles.

Charlotte, handed from the coach by the chamberlain, entered the house where one of the counting houses had been transformed into a parlour. On the stairs leading from this room the Barclay family were assembled to greet their Majesties. They looked very sombre in their grey Quaker costumes, for although palace servants had been sent to the house to show the family
how to conduct themselves in the presence of royalty, Mr Barclay had said that it would be against his principles to change his dress or manners. He respected the King but the only one he could bow down to was God.

Charlotte murmured in German that she could not reply in English to Mr Barclay’s loyal speech of welcome but the King was immediately behind her and he expressed their joint pleasure; he seemed very moved by the reception he received from these good people.

In the streets the crowd was calling for a glimpse of the King and the Queen and George said they should show themselves without delay, for the people had been waiting long enough.

Tumultuous cheers filled the street when their Majesties appeared on the balconies; and after some minutes they went back into the house to receive the members of the family.

The girls of the family looked charming in their austere garments and the King seemed deeply moved by the sight of them. There were seven daughters of the house and the King insisted on kissing them all as well as their mother. His emotion was noted by all who beheld him; and when one of the very young members of the household, a little girl of five, came forward, it was clear that the whole royal family was enchanted with her.

The child was grave but not shy, and she stood before the King regarding him solemnly.

‘Tell me what you think of me,’ said George, who loved children.

‘I am thinking that thou art the King,’ said the child.

‘I hope I meet with your approval.’

‘I love the King,’ she said; then she lowered her eyes and added: ‘Though I am not allowed to love fine things.’

‘I am sure you are a good girl and do as you are told.’

‘My grandpa forbids me to curtsey to thee.’

There were tears in the King’s eyes as he replied: ‘Then, my sweet child, I should not ask it of thee.’

Everyone was moved and the Princess Dowager picked up the child and kissed her.

‘What an enchanting little creature!’ said the Duke of York, and looked as though he were about to bestow his kisses on the child.

But her mother had taken her hand and was leading her
away, as she feared too much adulation might turn the little girl’s head.

There was a shout of applause as she left.

Mrs Barclay was whispering to some of the ladies that there was a buffet in one of the counting rooms which had been turned into a dining room; and if the company could be prevailed upon to follow her she would lead them to it, for she was sure they must be very hungry. The King said he would not eat but would talk with Mr Barclay as there were many points about his doctrines that he would like to discuss with him; so the Queen with the rest of the company went into the counting-house dining room and partook of the refreshment.

Meanwhile the King was deep in discussion with Mr Barclay and to the latter’s astonishment showed some considerable understanding of Mr Barclay’s faith.

‘I have always admired the Society of Friends,’ said the King, which delighted Mr Barclay, for there was always a certain danger in belonging to a minority; one could never be sure when those who did not share one’s views were going to make it an issue for complaint. So it was comforting to know that the King was in sympathy with them.

Mr Barclay begged the honour of presenting the King with a copy of
Apology,
a book which set out clearly all the tenets of the Quaker faith.

The King thanked him and accepted the book.

‘I assure you,’ he said, with emotion, ‘that I have always felt strong respect for your friendly society.’

It was time to watch the Lord Mayor’s procession from one of the balconies – the purpose for which the King and Queen had come to the house; and they were conducted out by Mr and Mrs Barclay to the pleasure of the people who were waiting in the streets to cheer them.

The Lord Mayor’s procession was long and colourful and considerably enlivened by the Lady Mayoress. When she put her head out of the mayoral coach to pay homage to their Majesties her enormous headdress was caught in the window sash and she remained, her head stuck out uncomfortably as the coach rattled on. There were shouts of delight from the crowd and protests from the lady; and the whole procession had to be stopped while the footman extricated the lady and made it possible
for her to put her head back in the carriage.

Everyone was laughing, except the Lady Mayoress; and Charlotte recalled the coronation and a similar series of accidents.

She was reminded how serious George had been on that occasion. It was indeed a solemn one. But he was even more serious today, which was strange.

It occurred to Charlotte then that there might be some strange connection between George and the Quakers. She must try to discover what it was, for as a good wife she must be interested in what concerned her husband.

*

Lord Bute sat well back in his coach. He had consoled the Princess, but he was not feeling very secure. He knew the mood of the people and that they blamed him for Pitt’s retirement from the cabinet.

He heard the shouts. ‘Pitt. God bless him. We want Pitt.’

It was coming. He sat back in his coach. He heard the hurrahs and the shouts of approval. It was some seconds before he realized that they had mistaken him for Pitt.

He kept well back. If only the coachman could whip up the horses. This slow, trundling along through a mob that could be murderous if it recognized the true occupant of the coach, was alarming.

The coach jerked forward and he with it. A face stared in at him; for a few seconds Bute stared back. Then the face became almost demoniacal in its delight.

‘He’s no Pitt. It’s the Scotch Stallion himself.’

The crowd was round his coach, preventing its moving backwards or forwards. Someone threw a stone through the window. Bute narrowly avoided it.

‘Go back to your heathen land beyond the Border,’ cried a voice.

They were trying to cut the traces of the horse.

‘We’ll hang him on a tree where he belongs.’

Oh, God, this is the end, thought Bute. On a day such as this the taverns would have been crowded while the people waited for the procession; they were inflamed by liquor and in such a mood they were capable of anything.

Where were the ‘bruisers’ whom he had hired to follow him, for he had suspected something like this might happen. They
were in fact battling their way through the mob to reach his coach. Suddenly he saw one on either side of the coach. The others would be doing their work.

‘Get back,’ shouted one of them. ‘You’re breaking the law.’

‘Whose law? Bute’s law? We take no account of that. We want the Scotch Boy. He won’t sleep in my lady’s bed again. We’re going to hang him high …’

The door of the coach was opened suddenly. Bute saw that another coach had drawn up close. In it was Lord Hardwicke. One of the bruisers held off the mob while Lord Bute leapt from his own coach to that of Lord Hardwicke.

Lord Hardwicke’s driver shouted to the mob to stand aside unless they wished to be run over and because of the urgency of the moment he drove through them. They scattered from right and left; and they satisfied their fury by destroying Lord Bute’s fine carriage while his lordship, beside his rescuer Lord Hardwicke, rode on to Guildhall.

He was safe, but it was a depressing indication of popular feeling.

*

Charlotte and George drove from the Barclays’ house to Guildhall where various ceremonies had to be endured; and it was nine o’clock before they sat down to the banquet.

Although they were received warmly by the Mayor and his Aldermen and the City merchants, when Pitt and Lord Temple entered the Guildhall the rafters shook with the cheers; and the hosts made no secret of who were the honoured guests.

The King was out of favour. He had allowed Mr Pitt to be dismissed and the City of London which stood for Trade stood for Mr Pitt. It would not be forgotten in a hurry what Mr Pitt had done for the prosperity of London in the years when he had been at the helm.