Виктория Холт - The Third George

"Why," she laughed, "I have little time to see England. All the time I have been here I have either been going to have a baby or having one.”

"Which is very laudable," added the King.

Yes, thought Charlotte, but there should be a little breathing space between babies. When she next saw the Princess Dowager she did mention Elizabeth Chudleigh but the Princess Dowager looked confused and muttered that she thought the woman was a good servant.

"She is a little frivolous," suggested Charlotte.

"Most of these women are.”

"Doubtless you do not know that she is the Duke of Kingston's mistress.”

"There are always scandals." The Princess Dowager flushed a little. "I doubt not that few of us are spared.”

It was very strange, thought Charlotte, because the Princess Dowager was usually so strict. When she, Charlotte, with George had attended balls after the birth of little George, the Princess had expressed her disapproval of such frivolity even to celebrate the birth of a Prince of Wales. Now she was being very lenient to Miss Chudleigh. And when Charlotte recalled Miss Chudleigh's arrogant and altogether complacent manner it made one wonder whether she had not some hold over the Princess.

What a strange thought! Women get strange ideas during pregnancies, she told herself; but she remembered that later when she heard Elizabeth say something about the King's fondness for Quakers and to say it with a little derisive laugh which could mean almost anything. Then Charlotte remembered the Lord Mayor's Show which they had watched from the Barclay house in Cheapside. Yes, the King was undoubtedly fond of Quakers.

St. James's! That grim dark prison of a palace. How different from dear Richmond. What a pity she could not go there to await the arrival of her second child. But no, the child must be born in London; he might be king if anything happened to little George which God forbid. But Kings and Queens had to be prepared for these contingencies.

All through the hot August days she waited. George was frequently with her and often seemed worried; in fact he had never been completely well since that illness he had had before the birth of little George. Politics worried him. There was always some trouble and now it was that ugly Mr.

Wilkes. Charlotte did not know what the trouble was all about, only that it was trouble. She tried to learn something of it during her brief sessions with her ladies who often disagreed together about the rights and wrongs of the affair. And when she tried to broach it with George he indulgently told her that she must not bother her head with this unpleasantness; it would be bad for the child. As for the Princess Dowager she said that the King would doubtless tell her all he wished her to know.

Where was the determined girl who had written to King Frederick? She seemed to have become lost in the mother. When Charlotte had first come to England she had imagined herself ruling this country with her husband; she had promised herself that she would try to understand state affairs so that she could be of use to him. But she was shut out from these affairs. When my baby is born, she promised herself, it will be different.

On 16 August, one year and four days after the birth of his brother George, Prince of Wales, Charlotte gave birth to her second son. He was a perfect child, strong and lusty. Now everyone was saying that Charlotte was going to be a real breeder. Two healthy boys in two years of marriage. What better sign than that.

The King was delighted. His cares seemed to drop from him. Nothing seemed to matter as he held the boy in his arms. Wilkes could rant and rave all he liked; his government could plague him; his disappointment in Bute was bitter, but he could endure that too when he thought of his growing family. Two boys and a wife who would bear him many more, he was sure. He was a lucky man.

The little boy was named Frederick Augustus and very soon he and his mother, with little brother George, were all enjoying the Richmond air.

It was hardly to be expected that Wilkes would not cause more trouble, and that he was determined to do this became obvious during that autumn and winter. The storm arose when he published an obscene poem called An Essay on Woman which was a burlesque on Pope's Essay on Man. There seemed to be little doubt that Wilkes himself had had a hand in the writing of this and as there were only twelve copies printed, he had apparently meant them only for circulation among those of his friends who delighted in pornography.

One of the copies came into the possession of Lord Sandwich. When Sandwich and Wilkes were both members of the Medmenham Circle they had been friends until Sandwich had one day called to the Devil to appear before him. Wilkes knowing this was a habit of Sandwich's had previously acquired an ape which he had dressed up to look like the Devil and just as Sandwich called out to the Devil to appear, Wilkes arranged that the ape should be let in. Sandwich was so alarmed that he turned and fled in abject terror to the delight of Wilkes. Discovering the trick Wilkes had played on him Sandwich never forgave him, and when the Essay on Woman came into his hands he saw an opportunity of getting his revenge.

Only a few months earlier Sandwich had become one of the Secretaries of State and had changed his mode of life since the days when he had been one of the leading spirits of Medmenham. Now, expressing his horror that such a hideously obscene and blasphemous work should have been written and printed, he read parts of it to the House of Lords. Wilkes had written notes in the margin of the essay which he had signed with the Bishop of Warburton's name because Warburton had added notes in the margins of Pope's Essay on Man: and when Warburton heard that his name had been used on this foul document he rose in his wrath and castigated Wilkes whom he compared with the Devil. Then he apologized to the Devil for putting him in the same company as Wilkes. So fiercely did the Bishop rage that even those who had been inclined to support Wilkes turned against him. Wilkes had gone too far this time; and when Warburton suggested that proceedings should be taken against Wilkes, charging him with blasphemy, it was agreed that this should be done.

Meanwhile an attack was being made on Wilkes in the Commons, and during this the member for Camelford, Samuel Martin, referred to him as a coward and a scoundrel. Wilkes declared that he had no alternative but to challenge Martin to a duel.

Now the drama was at its height. Everyone waited for the outcome; and when Wilkes met Martin in Hyde Park and was wounded by him, popular excitement grew. The rumour spread that Wilkes's enemies had deliberately commanded Martin to wound Wilkes; and the mobs were out.

Always eager for excitement, they paraded the streets and when one of the City Sheriffs, on order from Parliament, proceeded to burn number 45 of The North Briton before the Royal Exchange, a crowd gathered to prevent him. The North Briton was captured and while one section of the crowd carried it through the streets in triumph, another remained by the fire to throw in jackboots and a petticoat or two to show who they thought were behind all the trouble.

Wilkes meanwhile, on pretext of being wounded in the duel with Martin, remained in his house and did not leave it although he was summoned to appear at the bar of the House of Commons to answer for his sins. This, Wilkes had no intention of doing, and when he saw that he could no longer avoid appearing before his judges he slipped over to the Continent where he fell in with a well-known courtesan named Corradini with whom he set up house. Friends of his, determined to support Wilkes and the cause of freedom, sent him money; and Wilkes settled down for a few months of pleasure, amused to think how he had outwitted them all on the other side of the Channel.

Wilkes's departure did not make matters easier. There was trouble over the tax which Dashwood as Chancellor of the Exchequer proposed should be levied on cider, and a clash in the Commons when George Grenville sought to defend the measure, pointing out the necessity of imposing new taxes.

"Since there was such objection to the cider tax," said Grenville plaintively, 'he wished gentlemen would tell him where to lay them.”

Pitt rose and imitating Grenville's voice repeated the words of an old song: "Gentle shepherd, tell me where.”

Grenville furiously demanded if it was to be permitted that gentlemen were to be treated with contempt. At which Pitt made a deep bow and hobbled out of the House. From then on the mob shouted after Grenville whenever he appeared; and he was known as the Gentle Shepherd. This was typical of the day. The people seized on anything that caused ridicule and raised a smile.

There was trouble and laughter side by side; and the mob was always ready to make a carnival of some poor politician's misfortune.

But their greatest target was Bute. No one could take the place of him. If his carriage appeared they would leave everything to follow it. Some were armed with cudgels; and the Princess Dowager lived in terror that something would happen to her lover. When he came to her she would embrace him warmly and tell him that she trembled to think of what could befall him.

"I cannot endure this," she said. "I am terrified.”

Bute passed his hand over his brow. How he had changed! In the old days he had believed everything was possible; now he accepted defeat.

"Nothing is what I thought it would be. It is due to Pitt. If we had been able to keep Pitt all would have been well." He grimaced.