Виктория Холт - The Third George

With him Charlotte walked to the altar where the large Bible lay open. Charlotte had rehearsed this part of the ceremony and had learned off by heart the words she would have to say.

"Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the people of this Kingdom and the Dominions thereto belonging according to the statutes in Parliament agreed on and the laws and customs of the same?”

The King replied, laying his hand on the Bible: "I solemnly promise so to do.”

Then it was Charlotte's turn. She was relieved that she managed to speak the words required of her. More questions followed and finally: "Will you, to the utmost of your power, maintain the laws of God, the true profession of the gospel and the Protestant Reformed Religion established by the law?”

Again Charlotte made her reply faultlessly, and retiring from the altar she seated herself while the King went to St. Edward's Chair for the anointing.

The coronet was heavy and her head ached uncomfortably; and she was glad when they went once more to the altar to take Communion. George said to Dr. Seeker: "Should I not take off my crown when offering homage to the King of all Kings?”

Dr. Seeker replied that he was unaware of the correct mode of procedure, and turned to one of the Bishops to ask his opinion. As the Bishop did not know either, the King said that he was sure it would be more becoming in him to remove his crown and he believed the Queen should take her coronet off. This, whispered the Archbishop, would disarrange the Queen's hair and he was sure that it was not expected.

"Well," said George, 'for this time we will regard Her Majesty's coronet as part of her costume and not as her crown.”

He then took off his crown and explained in German to the Queen what had taken place. Charlotte was astonished, because it was only a short while before that she had been commanded to wear her jewels when taking Communion. She wondered whether the King remembered this; and if so why she had been forced to wear her jewels on that occasion and he dispense with his on this.

Communion over, the King and Queen prepared to leave the Abbey and as they did so one of the biggest jewels fell from the King's crown. There was a shocked silence. A bad omen, it was whispered, if ever there was one. After an undignified scrambling to recover the jewel it was soon found; but all eyes seemed to be on the gap where it should have been and this incident cast a certain gloom over the proceedings.

This was the first of a series of mishaps. When the company led by the King and Queen arrived at Westminster Hall where the banquet was to be held, they found it in darkness. Lord Talbot, who was Lord Steward and, with the Earl Marshal, was in charge of the coronation, had thought it would be an excellent idea to have all the candles lighted simultaneously as soon as the King and Queen were at the threshold, and had arranged it should take place by means of flax fuses.

There was a gasp of astonishment as the royal couple stumbled into the darkness; and then it seemed to Charlotte that the hall was on fire. The jabbing of her tooth was so painful that she had to smother an exclamation. The candles were suddenly alight but pieces of burning flax hung in the air for a few seconds before they floated down on the guests. So the desired admiration was replaced first by startled fear and then relief when it was discovered that no one was injured.

The candles made a brilliant show and the smell of spiced meats and delicacies filled the hall. No one could eat of course until the King and Queen were served, and Charlotte saw that on the dais on which their table had been set, although it was glittering with glass and cutlery, chairs were lacking.

Lord Talbot and Lord Effingham, who was acting as Deputy Earl Marshall, were rushing round in a panic demanding chairs for their Majesties; but in spite of all the great efforts to provide a banquet such as those present would never forget, it was difficult to find two chairs suitable for the King and the Queen. Lord Effingham, wig awry, eventually hurried on to the dais, a chair in his arms, followed by Lord Talbot with another. These were set at the table and a sigh of relief went up throughout the hall for everyone was very hungry and the ceremonious serving of the King and Queen had to take place before they could eat.

"It would seem, my lord," said George mildly, 'that the arrangements for our coronation can scarcely be called efficiently made.”

Effingham muttered: "It is so I fear, Sire. It seems some matters have been neglected." He added more brightly: "But I have taken care that the next coronation will be regulated in the exactest manner possible.”

George burst out laughing, and told Charlotte what the Earl had said. Effingham was overcome with confusion and far more embarrassed than he had been over the lack of chairs. But the more George considered his remark the more it amused him. He called Lord Bute and insisted that Effingham repeat what he had said. This Effingham did, mumbling and growing more and more scarlet.

Meanwhile the Lord Mayor of London and the Aldermen of the City had discovered that no places had been laid for them, and the Mayor was declaring in a loud voice that he considered this a disgrace. He was the Lord Mayor of London and did my Lord Effingham and my Lord Talbot know that London was the capital city and bowed to no one ... not even kings. The biggest omission that could have been made was to fail to provide places for the Mayor and Aldermen.

Lord Effingham, escaping from the amused King, was obliged to face the furious Lord Mayor.

"My Lord Mayor," whispered Effingham, "I pray you leave quietly with your Aldermen. Some recompense shall be made...”

"There's only one recompense," retorted the Mayor. "And that is table places.”

"My Lord Mayor...”

"The City of London is giving a banquet to the King which is costing 10,000. Have you the effrontery, my lord, to tell me then that there is no place for the Mayor and Aldermen at the King's coronation banquet? The city will not have it, sir.”

Talbot came to the aid of the harassed Effingham and whispered that the Lord Mayor and Aldermen should have the table which had been reserved for the Knights of the Bath. Effingham was relieved and the Lord Mayor and Aldermen were satisfied. But then there were the Knights of the Bath to be faced and a similar scene was enacted with them. At length Effingham fitted them into other tables which caused such crowding that there was a great murmur of complaint to which derisive comments were added when it was discovered that there was not enough food to go round and that the incompetent organizers had miscalculated once more.

The most farcical incident of all was yet to come. It was the custom of the Lord Steward, in this instance the unfortunate Lord Talbot, to ride a horse into the hall and up to the dais and there pay his respects to the King and Queen. Talbot had intended to ride to the dais, make his gracious speech and then back the horse out of the hall keeping his face and that of the horse towards their Majesties. He had practised this in the empty hall; but this was a day of mishaps, and Talbot had forgotten that the horse had gone through his paces perfectly when the hall was empty but now it was full of chattering laughing grumbling people; it was lighted by thousands of flickering candles and was not the same comfortable spot by any means.

The horse and rider appeared in the hall. The horse seemed to take one look at the royal couple and turn his back on them; in vain did Talbot attempt to ride him to the dais; the horse would only turn and present his hindquarters. There was wild laughter throughout the hall, while the discomfited Talbot endeavoured to guide his horse up to the dais. It was with the greatest difficulty that he did finally bring the prancing animal to the edge of the dais; but by then everyone, including the King and Queen, were too convulsed by laughter to hear his loyal speech.

It was a farce of a coronation. Yet it was a coronation all the same. And from that day those about the king noticed a new resolution in his manner. The first to be aware of this was Lord Bute, and although he was certain of his hold on the King's affections and therefore was certain of his own powers, from that time he did begin to be a trifle uneasy.

Now began the happiest weeks of Charlotte's life. George found her amicable, eager to learn; and the fact that she could speak only German and French, which cut her off from society considerably, made her turn to him for guidance and protection. Apart from her appearance she was all that he asked of a wife; and as he was a man who could only be at peace if he believed he was doing what was right, he began to enjoy his marriage. There were whole days when he did not give Sarah a thought; and even when he caught a glimpse of a Quaker's habit in the streets he would assure himself that together he and Charlotte would be such an example to all married people throughout the land that youthful indiscretions would count as nothing.

He had suppressed his own wishes; he had married Charlotte for the good of the country; and it was his duty to make that for her good and his own. He was physically contented; he was not a sensual man, although he had a fondness for women and could always be deeply affected by feminine charms. It gave him pleasure to contemplate these and to know that a less respectable man in his position would have nourished that emotion they aroused. Not so, George. He was going to be a faithful husband and introduce a new respectability into the Court and country.

So he devoted himself to Charlotte, who congratulated herself that the most fortunate aspect of her marriage was her husband's determination to cherish her. He quickly discovered her love of music and told her that they must have musical evenings during which she could display her skill at the harpsichord and hear some of the musicians of the Court. She would love the Opera he was sure, and within a few days of the coronation he had taken her to hear one. If was a state occasion; the people were still affectionate towards their King and Queen and when they entered the royal box they received a loyal ovation.

Later, he told her, when she had learned English he would take her to the play. She would enjoy the play, he was sure; but he saw no reason why she should not see the Beggar's Opera which had just been revived. He told her the story of the highwayman and London low life to which she listened avidly, not understanding it completely, for London low life was something quite different from anything she had ever imagined.

"In my grandfather's day it was considered treasonable," he told her.

She could not understand how the antics of criminals and gaol birds could affect the Crown.

"Oh, some of the characters were meant to be caricatures of the King's ministers. But that is all different now. The allusions have no point. And we are not afraid of a little ridicule.”

He spoke almost complacently; the cheers of the people were still ringing in his ears and he believed everything was going to be so different under his reign. He drove with her a little way out into the country. She was enchanted with her new land which was so beautiful at this time of year when the leaves were russet and gold and the grass still green.

"It would be pleasant," said George, 'if we had a house where we could live apart from the Court...

well, not entirely so, but a place where we could be free from continual ceremony. I think I will buy you a house.”

"A house for me," cried Charlotte, enchanted.

"Which," George reminded her, 'you will invite me to share with you.”

They talked of houses. "I never liked Hampton Court," he told her in a rush of confidence. "My grandfather once struck me there ... and I always remember it.”

"Struck you. He must have been a disagreeable old man.”

"He was. I don't think he meant me to take it so seriously. He had a very quick temper and I suppose he thought me particularly stupid. In any case he struck me, and I have never liked the place since.”

"Then I shall not like it either," declared Charlotte.

"But I never liked it even before that incident," went on the King.

"It's too flat. I asked Capability Brown to do something about the gardens and he refused me. He said there was nothing to do there and he declined out of respect for himself and his profession.”