Виктория Холт - Queen in waiting

"I am sure they vill me serve veil," said Caroline. She nodded dismissal to the girls and they retired. George Augustus's eyes were on them until they disappeared and then he continued to gaze at the door in a bemused fashion.

"They are pretty filles/' said Caroline. "Not very serieuse, I am afraid. I must see they are told of the dangers that could come."

George Augustus looked at her a little sharply and she was immediately uneasy. Had she betrayed a criticism of his behaviour? That would be the quickest way to drive him to some indiscretion. Caroline had an uneasy vision of some pert young woman attempting to show insolence to the Princess of Wales because the Prince of Wales had made love to her.

Yes, she had betrayed that she had noticed his interest in the girls. They were both a little wary.

George Augustus looked at his wife, sitting there dressed for his father's coronation, a long curl hanging over her shoulders, at her dazzlingly white neck and the beginning of her magnificent bust.

His eyes rested there.

"You haf the finest bosom in the vorld, my love," he said.

At least, thought Caroline, he wishes to placate me.

She smiled. "I you vatch throughout the ceremony."

He bent forward and kissed the finest bosom in the world.

Those who supported the House of Hanover had decided that the coronation must be the most splendid of its kind. The people must be reminded that this was not only the crowning of a King, it was the heralding of a new dynasty. On street corners, in coffee and chocolate houses, in riverside taverns, the Jacobites gathered. Who could say what might not happen on Coronation day. They hoped the wind would howl and the rain pour down, because sunshine could have such an effect on the spirits that the people would be ready to believe life was good while it shone. It was October the 20th, so surely unsettled weather was not impossible.

But the sun shone brilliantly; and the crowd was more eager for a day's pleasure than for the uncertain excitement of rioting. When the fountains flowed with wine, when there was an opportunity to dance and cheer at the procession as it passed, to see the fireworks, to get drunk and make love after dark, who wanted to gamble with death? What did it matter what King was on the throne as long as there were feast days and holidays for the people?

As soon as the Jacobites saw the sun steady in the sky, they knew that the coronation of George I was going to be a day of rejoicing.

In the streets the flower and orange girls, the pie men and the ballad sellers were already gathering, while pickpockets and confidence tricksters made their plans for a day which should provide a record harvest. On the pavements seedy men and women sat with their dice boxes inviting passers by to throw the dice with them and indulge in a little gamble. Already there was evidence of drunkenness. In the October Club the Jacobites had gathered to make gloomy comments on the prospects for the future and drink a secret toast to the King over the Water. On the river there were crafts of all description and from many of these came the sound of music.

Ladies and gentlemen of fashion made their appearance in the streets—the ladies in brilliant gowns, their hair piled high under their enormous hats, their skirts flounced, their waists incredibly small, their bosoms liberally exposed. Patches to show off a fine pair of eyes a luscious mouth or a straight little nose were much in evidence. And the men were every bit as colourful as the women, with their splendidly embroidered waistcoats, their three cornered hats and buckled shoes, their quizzing glasses and their snuff boxes.

The sun, the mood of the people, the gaiety of music and the laughter all had a depressing effect on the Jacobites.

Still, they consoled themselves, it won't last. These people who are cheering the German today will be calling for his blood in a few weeks' time.

Driving to Westminster in his state coach the King was wishing the day over. He had no taste for this sort of thing! He looked grimly out at his cheering subjects and found it hard to raise a smile. He could not much like these English and he, who had never believed himself to be a sentimental man, often thought longingly of Hanover.

To Westminster Hall in accordance with English tradition, where under the canopy of state he received the peers and court officials. A dreary ceremony and he was weary of the whole affair already. He accepted the sword and spurs while the regalia with the crown, chalice, paten and Bible were given to the lords and bishops, to be transported by them in the procession to the Abbey.

I'm a plain man, thought George, though I am a King. They want to crown me. Why can't they put the crown on my head and have done with it?

But no, there must be this ceremony. And there was George Augustus, very much enjoying himself in the role of Prince of Wales. George felt a twinge of annoyance to see that his son looked almost handsome in his crimson velvet state robes, edged with ermine. There he was, not forgetting to smile at the people, trying to win their support. Support! For what reason? So that he could have them on his side in any quarrel with his father. A fine son I've got, thought George bitterly. And only one. There could have been more, if his wife ... But that was a subject he refused to think of. He had one son who was a constant irritation to him and that was his misfortune. He was glad in any case that the wife of his had no place in the procession. Put them there, side by side, playing the ideally happy married couple, with the children beside them and all sympathy would have been for the Prince of Wales.

If they turned me out, he ruminated, I should go back to Hanover and that would be no bad thing.

It might well be. The cheers died on their lips when they looked at their king. There he was in the ceremonial robes worn by his predecessors—crimson velvet, with ermine lining, bordered with gold lace, a cap of the same crimson velvet trimmed with ermine encircled by gold and glittering with diamonds. He was dressed like a King, but he had no smiles for his subjects and he looked as if he was not so very pleased to be crowned their King.

There were whispers in the crowd. If German George did not want England, England did not want him.

Caroline watching from her canopied chair in the Abbey placed near the sacrarium was amazed at the almost sullen demeanour of the King. Could it really be true that he had no wish to be King of England? How different was George Augustus, who was sycophantish in his attitude towards his new country and could not show the people often enough how he admired them. King George was a fool, thought Caroline, unless of course he really did want to return to Hanover. How could he want to leave this great and exciting country for a little German principality? He had no ambition. She felt an excitement grip her. She had enough ambition for them all.

The Archbishop of Canterbury was saying in a voice which reverberated throughout the Abbey: "Sirs, I here present to you King George, the undoubted King of these realms. Wherefore all of you who are come this day to do your homage, are you willing to do the same?"

Caroline held her breath. The silence seemed to go on a long time, but was that only her imagination? How could they want this dour unattractive man who could not even speak their language?

But the cry rang out: "God Save King George."

The trumpeters were filling the abbey with the sounds of triumph.

The people had accepted their new royal family. They were amused by the love of walking which the Prince and Princess of Wales displayed; Caroline with her husband and sometimes the little girls could often be seen promenading in the Mall; now and then they even strolled all the way from St. James's to Kensington, surrounded by friends, courtiers and ladies of the Princess's household and followed by a crowd of spectators. This habit endeared them to the people who wanted to see their rulers; and the affable Prince and Princess were very much to their taste. Germans, yes, but at least they spoke some sort of English and the Prince had already made his admiration of his new country obvious.

"I haf not a drop of bloot in my veins vich is not English," declared the Prince. "This I am proud of. The English is the best, handsomest, the best shaped, the best natured and loving-est people in the world. And if anybody vish to make his court to me, he must tell me I am like an Englishman."

Such blatant flattery was irresistible.

Caroline was not far behind her husband. "As for me," she contributed to this praise, "I vould as lief live on a dunghill as return to Hanover."

Such remarks were repeated in the crowd who cried: "Long live the Prince and Princess of Wales!" and were very intrigued to learn that the King and the Prince were not on good terms. Their royal family was going to provide some amusement with their family quarrels and it was a royal family's duty to amuse its subjects.

So they were pleased with the Prince of Wales if they did feel resentful towards the King.

On the Prince's birthday there was a ball and at this both Prince and Princess increased their popularity. The Princess with her magnificent bust decorously veiled but not enough to disguise its charms, a fair curl over her shoulder, danced very charmingly with the Prince in her low heeled shoes to make him look less short than he actually was. Her gown sparkled with gems and she was a gay and glittering figure.

The King was present, dour as usual, but even he brightened a little when in the company of women. He was making it clear that although he had brought Mesdames Schulemburg and Kielmansegge to England with him and they were secure in his affection and his habits—which he did not care to change—he could appreciate the charms of other ladies and he implied that although he was not exactly enamoured of the country' of which he had found himself king, he certainly was of the women of that country.

He had already shown interest in Lady Cowper even though that lady had made it clear that she had no intention of sullying her virtuous reputation and he was roused from his lethargy by the sparkling conversation of the Duchess of Shrewsbury who had no such reputation to protect, having been Shrewsbury's mistress before he married her. Being Italian she could speak French much better than most of the English women and as the King used that language, which he spoke fluently and which was understood in England better than German, she had an advantage and she did not let this slip. The King was constantly at her house where he went, he said, to play sixpenny ombre; but both Schulemburg and Kielmansegge were a little uneasy.

After one of these visits the King asked the Princess of Wales to come to his apartments and when Caroline arrived, he said: "I want you to offer the Duchess of Shrewsbury a place in your household."

Caroline taken aback replied that there was no vacant place in her household.

"That is not true," replied the King. "You have not yet filled all posts, have you?"

"They are not in fact filled but I have so many applicants for them that I cannot consider any more."

"This is one you will now consider and appoint."

Anger was in Caroline's heart. She wanted to cry out: It is my household. I shall decide.

But she knew the folly of that. The dislike they felt for each other was turning to hatred and she must not forget that he held the power.

She bowed her head.

"You will send for the Duchess," said the King.

In his longing for Hanover the King grew critical of everything English—except the women. The language he dismissed as gibberish; the food he could not stomach. These islanders turned up their noses at sausages and sauerkraut, while relishing oysters. He declared they were stale when they were served to him, although he had never tasted them in his life before. The climate was terrible, he said. "The climate is the most beautiful in the vorld!" said the Prince of Wales. In truth the climate was very little different from that of Hanover. "The people are noisy and undisciplined," said the King. "The people are full of a natural charm and gaiety," retorted the Prince of Wales.

It was small wonder that the people took the Prince and Princess to their hearts and disliked the King.

George was in no mood to admit he liked anything in his new country, but he could not disguise his love of music. This love was deep in his family and his fellow Hanoverians, and the musicians of his household were treated with greater respect than any other of his servants. Opera he had always delighted in and he often spoke lovingly of the opera house at Hanover, yet he would not admit that the entertainment London had to offer excelled that of his native town.