The Third George

John Wilkes Wilkes and liberty

While Charlotte was occupied with one baby and awaiting the arrival of another, the King was finding himself more and more unpleasantly involved in state affairs. He had always believed that when Lord Bute achieved his ambition, which was to hold the highest post in the Government, all his troubles would be at an end. He had looked on Bute as a kind of god, omniscient, omnipotent; but it was not turning out that way. Pitt had resigned and they had needed Pitt. And it seemed that everyone in the country was against Bute.

The King had said: "Those who are against Lord Bute are against me." That had been his doctrine; and now it followed, therefore, that the attacks on Bute were in a way attacks on the King.

This worried George; he would dream of disasters; and always in these he, personally, was being persecuted. He began to look for slights in all those who came near him and to imagine that he heard them tittering behind his back.

When he was with Charlotte and the baby, when he saw her growing more and more obviously pregnant with the second, he could forget this. He could revel in the quiet country life of Richmond whither Charlotte had gone so that the baby could enjoy the air; and there he felt at peace; but as soon as he was obliged to return to St. James's, which in the present uncertain state of affairs was very often, the uneasiness, the feeling of persecution returned.

It was difficult to speak of it to anyone. In the old days he would have consulted Lord Bute. But Bute had troubles of his own and in his inability to master them had made George realize that his idol had feet of clay.

Lord Bute was indeed uneasy. His big bite of success had given him acute indigestion. He was beginning to wonder whether it was not more exciting to plan and to strive towards a goal than to reach it. He was haunted by an uneasy fear that he might not be enough of a politician to handle the intricate state craft.

His great plan had been to secure peace. He believed in peace. He had been for Pitt's war policy in the beginning; but the country had had enough of war. In secret he had been entering into negotiations with the Court of Versailles through the Sardinian ambassador and to act alone and secretly was a dangerous manoeuvre. Charles II had managed it expertly and amorally while bringing good to his country, but John Stuart, Earl of Bute, was no Charles Stuart, King of England. He lacked the power for one thing as well as that careless genius. He was a worried man.

He was at odds with George Grenville whose support he had relied on; and he was beginning to wonder whom he could trust to stand beside him.

His thoughts suddenly hit on Henry Fox; and this seemed a brilliant idea. Fox would have to be lured from the Opposition to their side, but Bute believed that Fox was ambitious enough to accept the offer. He sought an audience with the King and told him that he could not trust Grenville to support the new peace treaty and that he needed a strong man as leader of the House of Commons and it must be someone who was clever enough to carry it through.

"I see you have someone in mind," said George.

"Fox," answered Bute. The King's face grew pink. Fox! Sarah's brother-in-law! He had hated Fox ever since he had given up Sarah, for he was sure that the man was jeering at him for allowing himself to be persuaded by his mother.

"He is the only man wily enough to do it.”

"He never would. It would mean deserting his party, being disloyal to Pitt.”

"All Fox would care about was being loyal to himself.”

"But you really believe ...”

"I am convinced it is the only course left to us." Left to us thought the King. So Bute was including him in his failure. He was shocked to find that for the first time in his life he was critical of his dear friend.

"We cannot afford to be squeamish," said Bute.

The King recoiled. This was shocking. Nothing seemed as it had in the past. Everything was turning against him. He could have wept, "So Your Majesty gives your consent to my approaching Fox." The King nodded, turning away.

Mr. Fox returned to Holland House cynically amused after his interview with Lord Bute. He would, he had said, consider the noble lord's proposals, but they did not fill him with any great enthusiasm. Lord Bute was almost pathetic in his desire to include Mr. Fox in his confidence. So my Lord Bute was learning sense after all.

And His Majesty? Mr. Fox had asked. How did he feel about having Mr. Fox as the leader of the House of Commons? His Majesty was as eager as Lord Bute, so said the lord. Well, thought Mr.

Fox, they must be anxious. George had not been able to look him in the face after jilting Sarah.

Perhaps now that Sarah had married Bunbury he felt that little matter was settled. Bunbury in place of a king! Mr. Bunbury who would become Sir Charles one day. Not much of a match to set beside that with a king. But Sarah had chosen him and seemed happy although how long that would last Mr. Fox was not sure and his feelings were sceptical. However, the important matter of the moment was not Sara but the future of Henry Fox.

He found his wife in the drawing room and told her that he had just come from St. James's. Lady Caroline raised her eyebrows.

"Bute is asking me to take over the leadership of the House of Commons.”

"No!”

"Yes, my dear, yes. They are most eager to have me. Even His Majesty raises no objections.”

"They are in trouble," said Lady Caroline. "Best leave them to it.”

"H'm.”

"You can't be considering this proposal?”

Fox nodded slowly. "For a while ... perhaps it would not be such a bad thing.”

"You know you promised you were going to give up politics.”

"I haven't forgotten.”

"But you are considering taking up this offer?”

He slipped his arm through hers. "For a while," he said. "I promise to make a fortune from it and retire with a high sounding title in a blaze of glory.”

She laughed at him; they understood each other. He was a cynic; he loved money even more than power; he was only vulnerable where Lady Caroline was concerned. Ever since their romantic elopement they had been lovers.

So Caroline understood. It would be the finale; and when it was over they would live as she had planned they should, away from the anxieties of state ... enjoying life.

Mr. Fox was granted an audience in the King's chamber at St. James's. As he expected, Bute was with George. Mr. Fox's expression was a little sardonic. He was not the handsomest of men with his bulky figure and dark face; it was when he talked, not with Mr. Pitt's brilliant oratory, but with those sudden flashes of spontaneous wit, that he could even triumph over Mr. Pitt.

George looked at him with mild distaste. Never would trust that fellow, he thought; but it was no use; he would have to have him. Lord Bute had explained that they were lost without a strong man to lead the Commons and make sure that the signing of the Peace of Paris was brought to a successful conclusion.

"So Mr. Fox, sir," said George, "Lord Bute tells me that you are ready to take on the leadership of the House of Commons.”

"Reluctantly, Sire, but since it is the wish of Your Majesty ...”

Fox smiled ironically, as though, thought George, the sly creature so rightly named knew how he hated to be forced into this position and was reminding him of it.

"Lord Bute feels that your services could be invaluable.”

"And since Your Majesty is in agreement with him I offer them with all my heart.”

"His Majesty and I agree that it is necessary to get these essential matters passed through the Commons and the Lords. At the moment there is great opposition. This must be wiped out. We must have a majority vote in favour of the peace.”

"It is not an impossible achievement.”

"We have powerful enemies.”

Mr. Fox smiled what George thought of as the foxy smile. "We can secure their support in the time-honoured way.”

"And that?”

"Bribes, Your Majesty. Bribes.”

"Bribes! But this is something I cannot countenance.”

"Then the measures will be defeated, and I can be of no use to you. But if Your Majesty and you, my lord, ask me to bring these measures safely through, I tell you I can do it. And I give you the blunt remedy. Bribes.”

The King had turned away; Bute was watching him uneasily. Fox shrugged his shoulders.

"Your Majesty and you, my lord, cannot consider bribes? Then I can only say that I can be of no use to you. You will understand that in coming to your side I shall be in opposition to my old friends.”

"Unpopularity is the price we must all pay for parliamentary services," said Bute bitterly.

"Not all, my lord. Consider Mr. Pitt. He cannot move through the City without a crowd of worshippers following his coach. They are ready to kneel and kiss the hem of his garment.”

George frowned. He did not like blasphemy.

"As for myself," went on Fox, "I am ready to face unpopularity if I can do His Majesty essential service.”

Bute said quickly: "His Majesty and I are eager to see this peace treaty carried through, no matter at what cost.”

He waited with great apprehension for the King to speak, but George said nothing.

The King was depressed and disillusioned. His head ached; he wanted to get rid of Mr. Fox. He was certain that that odious man was laughing at him, jeering at him for having lost Sarah; he would go away and whisper about him to that wife of his, Sarah's sister, who was a little like Sarah.

Bute was watching him anxiously, thinking: He has such strange moods nowadays. One can never be sure what he is thinking. But Fox was preparing to take his leave and to throw himself into his new task as leader of the House of Commons who knew exactly how to administer those bribes which would get unpopular measures passed through Parliament.

Mr. Fox was true to his word. He set about his new duties with alacrity. Bribes were offered in cash and in the form of titles; and places in the Government were given in order to form one which would be solidly behind Fox and obey his commands to vote as performing dogs at the crack of the whip.

The Dukes of Devonshire, Newcastle and Grafton were expelled from their offices to make way for complacent men; and by December Fox was ready to go into the attack. Crowds surrounded the Houses of Parliament knowing what issues were at stake. Pitt was still the hero of the piece; Bute the black-hearted villain.

In the Lords, Bute had to defend Fox's policy; and in the Commons, Fox had to face Pitt, who had arrived, swathed in bandages, wrapped in flannel, suffering hideously from his old complaint of gout. Pitt harangued the Government for three hours; he pointed out that their enemies had not yet been beaten; that if peace were made now they would recover and get to their feet again. Peace was a danger to England. Pitt's eloquence was, as ever, spellbinding, but his gout got the better of him and before he had delivered the final summing up he was obliged to retire to his seat. Then Fox rose and with reasoning, cold against Pitt's heat, logical against emotionalism, he defended the Government's policy for peace. France and Spain had agreed to great concessions, and England was suffering from acute taxation.

Listening, Pitt seemed to sense defeat; in any case he was in agony. While Fox was speaking he got up and hobbled from the House, thus leaving his supporters without a leader.

The motion was carried for the Government 319 to 65. A triumph for the Government, for Fox's policy and for peace.

It was hardly to be expected that Pitt's supporters would quietly accept this state of affairs. It was known how the Government majority had been achieved. Bribery! was whispered throughout the streets; and the mob marched carrying a jackboot and petticoat which they ceremoniously hung on a gibbet. The feeling against Bute was rising. He was the arch enemy, the Scot who had dared to try to rule England, the lover of the Princess Dowager who with her ruled the King, and therefore ruled England. Even the King came in for his share of criticism and his popularity waned alarmingly.

When he went to call on his mother, crowds following his carriage shouted. "Going to have your napkins changed, George?" And: "When are you going to be weaned?”

George did not like it. It wounded him deeply; when he came back to his apartments he would weep and his headaches would begin; he felt that everyone was against him. When he could escape to Richmond, to the quiet life with Charlotte, he felt better. But he could not be a King and live the quiet life of a country gentleman.

Bute was feeling ill; he had lost his swagger. It was an uncomfortable feeling, every time he went out, wondering whether the mob were going to set on him and murder him. Power such as this had been his goal; now it was his it was very different from the dream.

And then John Wilkes went into the attack.

John Wilkes was the son of a malt distiller of Clerkenwell, who had started a paper, in conjunction with a friend named Charles Churchill, in which he determined to attack the anomalies of the day. He had a seat in Parliament and was an ardent supporter of Pitt. As a man who must be in the thick of any controversy, the conflict between Pitt and the Government, under Fox's leadership, was irresistible to him.

Wilkes was an extremely ugly man; his features were irregular and his squint diabolical; to counterbalance this he had developed a very keen wit and courtly manners, and with these he endeavoured to bring down what he called the unworthy mighty from their seats. The first of these was of course Lord Bute.

As a young man Wilkes had been sent on the Grand Tour; on his return his parents had wished him to marry Mary Mead, the daughter of a London grocer, a very rich one and he had obliged.

The marriage was a failure. Poor Mary could not keep pace with her husband's wit and brilliance.

Wilkes came well out of the affair for he acquired not only a large slice of his wife's fortune but the custody of his daughter, Mary, who was the one person in his life for whom he cared.

His great energy had had to find an outlet and he joined societies of ill repute such as the Hell Fire Club and Sir Francis Dashwood's club, the latter known as the Order of St. Francis. The motive of these clubs was profligacy and obscenity, all to be conducted in the most witty manner. The members of the Order of St. Francis met in a ruined Cistercian Abbey at Medmenham and there indulged in practices with which they tried to shock each other, by mocking the Church, and they were said on one occasion to have given the sacrament to a monkey.

Membership of this society had brought Wilkes influential friends, among whom were Pitt's supporters, Sir Francis Dashwood and Lord Sandwich, and through them Wilkes became the High Sheriff of Buckinghamshire; and after an unsuccessful attempt to enter Parliament for Berwick- on-Tweed he was elected for Aylesbury.

He was not a great success in Parliament, lacking the necessary eloquence; but his wit and humour secured him many friends; he was a most entertaining companion; he even made fun of his ugliness. He had never, he said, like Narcissus, hung over a stream and admired his countenance; one would not find him stealing sly glances at a mirror, a habit he had noticed among those to whom Nature had been a little more kind when dealing out good features. He made a cult of his ugliness. He was extremely virile; he had a deep need of sexual satisfaction; and in a short time he had gone through his fortune and his wife's and was looking for a means of making money.

He discovered a talent for journalism; it was an exciting profession. To express one's views in print, to hear them quoted, to be a power in the land that was exactly what Wilkes wanted. If there was one man in the country whom Wilkes wished to send toppling from his pedestal, that man was Lord Bute. Bute was all that he was not: handsome, pompous and a lover to whom the Dowager Princess of Wales had been faithful for years; Wilkes was envious; he was cleverer than Bute, but Bute was a rich man and he a poor one. Bute had become head of the Government and he, brilliant Wilkes, was a failure in Parliament. And now Bute was forcing his desires on the country and he had done it through bribes. Here was a subject for a journalist.

One of the papers, The Monitor, was criticizing the Government, but it was a scrappy little sheet, hardly worthy to be called a newspaper; and in retaliation Lord Bute had founded two papers, The Briton and The Auditor, and had set up the novelist Tobias Smollett as editor of the former. Under brilliant editorship The Briton was attracting some attention and was helping to put the case for Bute, who was becoming less unpopular as a result. This was something which Wilkes could not endure. He went to his crony Charles Churchill, a man who lived as disreputably as Wilkes himself, had separated from his wife as Wilkes had, and had made some reputation as a poet.

"We should found a rival paper to The Briton," he suggested. "In it we could keep the country informed on Mr. Bute.”

"What could we tell them that they don't already know?”

That made Wilkes laugh. "We'll find plenty, never fear. Bribes! And what a gallant gentleman! I'll swear the people would like to know how very well he performs in the Princess's bed.”

"Wilkes, you're a devil," cried Churchill.

"And doing you the honour of accepting you as the same, my friend. Now to business.”

In a very short time they were ready to bring out their paper.

"What shall we call it?" Churchill wanted to know.

Wilkes was thoughtful; then a lewd smile spread across his ugly face.

"Why not The North Briton? After all it is going to be dedicated to the destruction of a gentleman from across the Border. Yes, that is it. The North Briton.”

And so The North Briton came into existence. From its first number it was a success. There was nothing the people liked better than to see the great ridiculed, and when it was done with wit and humour it appealed more than ever.

Wilkes saw that it was presented, and people were buying it in their thousands. Fox was represented as Bute's faithful henchman. They had brought about their measures and how? Wilkes was hiding nothing. He had the information at his fingertips. He knew how the peace treaty had been brought safely through the Commons and Lords. Bribery! Bribery and Corruption was something which Wilkes and Churchill in The North Briton were going to expose to public view.

Wilkes and Churchill were for Liberty. Freedom of action; freedom of speech. That was what they stood for; and they were no respecters of persons either. No one was going to be considered if he offended against the laws of decency laid down by Wilkes and Churchill. And Bribery was an offence which made them cry out Shame.

But the chief butt was the Scotsman. Very, very handsome, he was. He had a wife and numerous children. But he still had time and energy to serve the Princess Dowager. Did the people realize they had a boudoir genius in their midst?

Another method of attack was a more serious one. George III was likened to Edward III, the Dowager Princess of Wales to Queen Isabella. And Bute had to have a part in this drama so he was of course Roger Mortimer.

Together Wilkes and Churchill concocted a parody of Mountfort's Fall of Mortimer which they published with a dedication to that brilliant bedchamber performer, Lord Bute. The sales of The North Briton shot up; and Wilkes realized that this was the most amusing, the most exciting and the quickest way to change his financial position. It had been a stroke of genius to start the paper.

All he had to remember was that they must stop at nothing; no one should be safe from their vitriolic pens. The simple fact was that the people loved scurrilous gossip; and the more shocking and the higher placed the people involved, the more the public liked it.

"They shall have what they want," sang out Wilkes; and proceeded to give it to them. Henry Fox, seeing the way trends were going and by allying himself with Bute, he was naturally catching some of the odium which was showered on that nobleman, saw no reason why he should continue in office.

Caroline was urging him to get out. He had promised, had he not, that as soon as he could do so, he would. He had told her that this last little fling was too important to be ignored. Well, he had done what was asked of him; he had shown them how to carry through the terms which Pitt had so violently rejected, so what further purpose could be served by remaining in office?

Walking in the grounds of Holland House, his arm through that of his wife, revelling in the signs of spring all around them, Henry Fox told her that she was right. He agreed with her. Now that that odious man Wilkes had come out with his scandal sheet, no one was spared certainly not those in high places. The Government was going to sway to the attack of ridicule. If he were going to get out in that blaze of glory, then he should do so now, and the price of past services would be a title.

"What do you think of Lord Holland, my dear?" he asked, smiling complacently about the park.

"I think it would be ideal," Caroline told him; 'but only if you leave the Government and come into retirement so that we can spend more time together which would give me great pleasure and enable you to escape from the mudslinging of that hideous Wilkes, the general scorn with which the Government is beginning to be regarded, and the growing unpopularity of my Lord Bute.”

"Wise woman," commented Fox. "Tomorrow I go to see my lord and with him to the King. I doubt not soon that your husband will be a noble lord.”

"The sooner the better since it means your escape from the Government.”

Mr. Fox presented himself to Lord Bute. Poor Bute! He was certainly losing his youthful looks.

Being head of a government most definitely did not suit him. Fox laughed inwardly with grim satisfaction. These ambitious men who saw themselves as they were not! Let Bute go back to cosseting the Princess Dowager; he was very good at that. But countries needed more than cosseting.

"My lord, I have come to tell you that my health is failing, and as I have done that which I gave my word to do, I can see no point in remaining longer in the Government.”

Bute was alarmed. While he had had Fox's support he had felt secure. Crafty as his name, this man was a brilliant politician, who could be called a worthy rival to Pitt. Bute had clung to high office fervently, knowing that this man was supporting him; but now the sly fellow was withdrawing that support. He had had enough.

"This is ill news," began Bute.

"Nay, nay," cried Fox. "A man who is not in the best of health is a poor henchman. You, my lord, with that cleverness which has placed you in your present position, have no need of a poor sick fox. I have made up my mind to retire.”

"This cannot be final.”

"Alas, yes. My health demands it. I have promised my wife that today I would come to you and tell you that I intend to offer my resignation. I can be of no further use to you. Therefore I shall go with the title you promised me, to show the people that I am considered worthy of my reward.”

"Title..." began Bute.

"Baron Holland of Foxley, Wiltshire," said Fox. "And I should hope to retain the post of Paymaster.”

Bute was astounded. How like Fox to ask for his title and a post which was almost a sinecure and brought in a considerable income.

"I think even my enemies would agree," said Fox smiling, 'that the country owes me this' The King was deeply disturbed. He had read Wilkes's sheet. Those terrible accusations against his mother and Lord Bute! Did everyone know of them except himself? What a simpleton he had been! All those years when they had been together he had thought they were just good friends.

And they had been living together as husband and wife; and the whole world knew ... except George, and was doubtless laughing at George for his simplicity.

The King buried his face in his hands. There were times when he felt that the whole world was against him. He could trust no one not even his mother; not even Bute those two on whom he had relied all his life. Oh, yes, he could rely on Charlotte; because Charlotte was only a young girl who knew nothing of state affairs. She should never know. She should remain shut away from the Court which was wicked, anyway. Charlotte should retain her innocence; she should go on bearing his children. In August they would have another. Two already and not married two years.

Yes, Charlotte was all he cared to think about these days. He was beginning to hate politics and mistrust politicians. But if he were going to be a good King he must understand these matters. The manner in which the peace had been passed through Parliament appalled him. Bribes! And that cynical Mr. Fox arranging it all!

What pleasure to escape to Richmond when he could; to walk with Charlotte in the gardens there; to sit beside the baby's cradle and marvel at the fact that he was such a lusty healthy little fellow.

And now Lord Bute was bringing Fox to him to tell him that the minister wished to offer his resignation, and as a reward for his services he would accept a barony and become Baron Holland; he wished to retain the post of Paymaster.

"So you are leaving the Government, Mr. Fox, sir," said the King disapprovingly.

"Your Majesty, my health has deteriorated and I am in no position to do honour to the high post which Your Majesty in your goodness bestowed on me.”

George felt sick with annoyance and disappointment. Mr. Fox was lucky. When he wanted to extricate himself from a difficult situation he only had to resign; and get a title for doing it. There was nothing to be done. They could only let him go.

On 19 April the King opened Parliament and four days later number 45 of The North Briton appeared. In this Wilkes commented on the Peace of Hubertsberg - which had followed the Peace of Paris as 'the most abandoned instance of ministerial effrontery ever attempted to be imposed on mankind'.

George read the paper, for everyone was now reading The North Briton, anxiously scrutinizing it to make sure that they were not being ridiculed in it; and he found that Wilkes had dealt with him personally. The King's speech," wrote Wilkes, 'has always been considered by the legislature and by the public at large as the speech of the Minister.”

This was an attempt to imply that he had no intention of attacking the King but was blaming the chief minister, George Grenville.

"Every friend of this country," he went on, 'must lament that a Prince of so many great and amiable qualities, whom England truly reveres, can be brought to give the sanction of his sacred name to the most odious measures and to the most unjustifiable public declarations from a throne ever renowned for truth, honour and unsullied virtue.”

When George read this he was not in the least taken in by the implication of loyalty. This was a sneer at himself, suggesting that he was at best a puppet. He was suffering from one of his headaches and he kept repeating the phrases of that article over and over again in his mind. He wanted to get right away. He was weary of his office. If only he could be like Mr. Fox and get away to the pleasure of his wife's company. But he was the King; he could not resign.

George Grenville was asking for an audience. He came in clutching The North Briton and it was easy to see that he was as angry as the King.

"We cannot allow this to pass, Your Majesty.”

"So I thought," agreed the King. "We are submitted to insult, but what can we do?”

"We can send a copy of The North Briton to the law officers of the Crown. This, in my opinion, is a seditious libel.”

"Let it be done," said George. "It is time we took some action against this man Wilkes.”

Lord Halifax and the Earl of Egremont as Secretaries of State were only too ready to issue the warrant which Grenville demanded. This gave permission for a strict and diligent search to be made in the offices of the seditious and treasonable paper, The North Briton, and for the authors of seditious libel to be arrested.

Halifax's secretary arrived at Wilkes's house one night and read the warrant to him, but Wilkes pointed out that his name was not mentioned on the warrant and therefore it was not legal. So forcefully did he argue that the secretary retired, but the next morning he had presented himself at the offices of The North Briton.

Wilkes was arguing with him when Charles Churchill came in and looking straight at Churchill, Wilkes said: "Good day, Mr. Thompson. How is Mrs. Thompson? Does she dine in the country?”

Churchill immediately guessed what was happening and that Wilkes was warning him, so he replied: "Mrs. Thompson is in good health, sir. I merely called to enquire after your health before joining her in the country.”

And accepting Wilkes's kindest regards for Mrs. Thompson, Churchill disappeared and without delay went to the country to avoid arrest. Wilkes's arguments were waved aside and he was taken away protesting that he would sue them all for breach of the law. London was in an uproar.

Wilkes was arrested. This was a threat against the freedom of the individual; freedom of speech was in jeopardy and Wilkes was the defender of liberty.

Bute engaged Hogarth to draw a derisive cartoon of Wilkes, making him look even uglier than he was, so that it could be circulated throughout the City. Churchill, from a few miles out of the town, was able to retaliate with lampoons and songs about Bute and his followers. He made it clear to the people that Hogarth was in the pay of Bute, that he was an artist who worked for those who would pay him most, and his views were therefore worthless.

When, in May, Wilkes was brought up for trial he claimed privilege as a Member of Parliament and when he was released by Chief Justice Pratt, this was one of the biggest defeats the Government had suffered. Arrogant and impudent Wilkes returned to his offices. Now he was going to fight them, and his first step was to issue writs against those who had caused his arrest.

The City waited in breathless amusement for what would happen next. The jeers at Lord Bute were more offensive than ever; the King was often received in a hostile silence. Wilkes was the defender of liberty and the people's hero. All through that trying summer George escaped to Richmond whenever possible, but by the beginning of August it was time for Charlotte to come back to St. James's to prepare for the birth of the child.

Charlotte had been taking her English lessons regularly and had progressed considerably. Her accent was decidedly German but she was no longer in the irritating position of being unable to understand what people around her were saying. Not that she was allowed to talk to many people.

There were her women who attended to her needs but Schwellenburg had installed herself at their head and in spite of that warning they could not shift her from the position she had chosen for herself. There were so often those occasions when Charlotte could only express herself in German; then either Schwellenburg or Haggerdorn was needed.

Charlotte was aware of the manner in which she was restricted, but reminded herself that she had been pregnant most of the time she had been in England. Occasionally she heard scraps of conversation. She knew that Elizabeth Chudleigh, that bold lady-in-waiting, was the mistress of the Duke of Kingston, which surprised her, for the Duke had given her the impression that he was a scholarly man and, being so much older than Elizabeth, hardly the sort of lover one would have expected her to take. But perhaps it was his title which attracted her, although that was not much help to her as he did not marry her.

She wondered why Elizabeth was allowed to remain at Court, for her conduct was a little disreputable. She mentioned this to George who said he agreed with her. His mother though had recommended her and might be offended if Elizabeth were dismissed without consulting her.

"When next we meet I shall mention the matter," said Charlotte.

And George, who was preoccupied, merely nodded. Poor George, he did seem to be weighed down by his cares now. But he was delighted with her pregnancy of course.

"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.